Tropical Tryst

All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

Nicole Morgan

Sharon Hamilton

Nicole Morgan

Victoria Pinder

Lena Bourne

Fiona Miers

Linda O’Connor

Mandy Rosko

Liz Gavin

Courtney Hunt

Caitlyn Lynch

Stacy-Deanne

CJ Matthew

Karen M. Bryson

Holly Cortelyou

Roxy Sinclaire

Emkay Connor

Susan Ann Wall

Krista Ames

JB Duvane

Jan O’Hara

Whitley Cox

Carma Haley Shoemaker

Elana Brooks

Alexis Alvarez

Romance Collections

Contents

Tropical Tryst

Sharon Hamilton

SEAL My Love

SEAL My Love

Author’s Note

Foreword

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Sharon Hamilton’s Book List

About the Author

Reviews

Navy Seal Prayer

Victoria Pinder

Tempting James

Tempting James

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Also by Victoria Pinder

About the Author

LENA BOURNE

Rider’s Fall

RIDER’S FALL

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

About the Author

Fiona Miers

A Miracle in Hawaii

A Miracle in Hawaii

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

About the Author

Linda O’Connor

Perfectly Skeptical

Perfectly Skeptical

A Note from Linda

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

About the Author

More about the Perfectly series

Mandy Rosko

Alpha Heat

Alpha Heat

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Liz Gavin

Tristan

Tristan

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Sneak Peek

About the Author

Also by Liz Gavin

Courtney Hunt

Desire a Bridesmaid

Desire a Bridesmaid

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About the Author

Caitlyn Lynch

Finding Cory

Finding Cory

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

A Note From The Author

About the Author

Other Works by Caitlyn Lynch

Stacy-Deanne

Murder with a Kiss

Murder with a Kiss

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

CJ Matthew

A Major Affair

A Major Affair

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

Karen M. Bryson

Brooklyn Winters

Brooklyn Winters

Introduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

About the Author

Holly Cortelyou

Two Reckless Hearts

Two Reckless Hearts

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Acknowledgments

Also Available

Books by Holly Cortelyou

From Holly

About the Author

Roxy Sinclaire and Zara Zenia

His Diamond in the Rough

His Diamond in the Rough

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

About The Authors

Also by Roxy Sinclaire

EmKay Connor

Worth the Risk

Worth the Risk

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Epilogue

About the Author

Susan Ann Wall

Off Balance

Off Balance

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Epilogue

About the Author

Also by Susan Ann Wall

Krista Ames

Making Waves

Making Waves

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Epilogue

About the Author

JB Duvane

Starry Nights

Starry Nights

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

About the Author

Jan O’Hara

Cold and Hottie

Cold And Hottie

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

About the Author

Praise For Jan O’Hara

Excerpt

Whitley Cox

Lust Abroad

Lust Abroad

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Epilogue

Afterword

Love, Passion and Power: Part 1

Other Available Books by Whitley Cox

Upcoming Releases

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Carma Haley Shoemaker

Sunset Seduction

Sunset Seduction

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

Elana Brooks

Homecoming

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

About the Author

Celeste Hall

Just Trust Me

Just Trust Me

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

About the Author

Alexis Alvarez

Hotter in Hawaii

Hotter in Hawaii

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Epilogue

Dear Readers,

Connect With Alexis

About the Author

Phoenix Locations & Cool Things

References

A Handful of Fire

Shai

Shai

Shai

Shai

Shai

Tropical Tryst

All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

Tropical Tryst © 2017 by Romance Collections

All rights reserved.

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SEAL My Love

Sharon Hamilton

Navy SEAL Trace Bennett has just transferred from his east coast team to join Kyle’s SEAL Team 3. Newly divorced, he’s hoping the change in locale will bring back his mojo for life. He needs his brothers more than ever before, but he struggles with physical effects of being a SEAL for nearly ten years. They call him the “old man” and invite him to a Team vacation in Hawaii with several others and their wives.

Gretchen Sanders, sister of Team Guy Tyler Gray’s wife Kate, is invited to the islands on her first vacation alone without her three girls. Formerly married to a professional basketball player who outed his affair with a dancer on national television, she has focused on her girls and never been tempted to date again—until she looks into the blue eyes of this older SEAL.

Will their Tropical Tryst bring more than thunder and lightning? Or is it something real that they can build on?

Prequel novella to full-length novel coming 2018.

Author’s Note

I always dedicate my SEAL Brotherhood books to the brave men and women who defend our shores and keep us safe. Without their sacrifice, and that of their families—because a warrior’s fight always includes his or her family—I wouldn’t have the freedom and opportunity to make a living writing these stories. They sometimes pay the ultimate price so we can debate, argue, go have coffee with friends, raise our children and see them have children of their own.

One of my favorite tributes to warriors resides on many memorials, including one I saw honoring the fallen of WWII on an island in the Pacific:

“When you go home

Tell them of us, and say

For your tomorrow,

We gave our today.”

These are my stories created out of my own imagination. Anything that is inaccurately portrayed is either my mistake, or done intentionally to disguise something I might have overheard over a beer or in the corner of one of the hangouts along the Coronado Strand.

I support two main charities: Navy SEAL/UDT Museum in Ft. Pierce, Florida. Please learn about this wonderful museum, all run by active and former SEALs and their friends and families, and who rely on public support, not that of the U.S. Government.

www.navysealmuseum.org

I also support Wounded Warriors, who tirelessly bring together the warrior as well as the family members who are just learning to deal with their soldier’s condition and have nowhere to turn. It is a long path to becoming well, but I’ve seen first-hand what this organization does for its warriors and the families who love them. Please give what your heart tells you is right. If you cannot give, volunteer at one of the many service centers all over the United States. Get involved. Do something meaningful for someone who gave so much of themselves, to families who have paid the price for your freedom. You’ll find a family there unlike any other on the planet.

www.woundedwarriorproject.org

Chapter 1

Navy SEAL Trace Bennett sat down on one of the benches at Gunny’s Gym and picked up a thirty pound barbell and started his reps, focusing on a straight back and neck, or he’d pay for it later tonight. He’d been told it was mandatory to do daily PT when they were between deployments. Unless he wanted to do a cool ten-mile run or a swim in the inlet, it was Gunny’s, and it was a great place to get to know some of the other guys. Since the Team had just come back from a short mission to Baja California, they weren’t likely to be sent out again for several months, unless something flared up. And that was happening a lot lately.

Being the newest member of Kyle Lansdowne’s squad on SEAL Team 3, his transfer from Team 8 had been hastened by a messy divorce and a bad write-up on his interim evaluation. He’d told his LPO that he just needed a change of scenery.

“Lansdowne runs a tight ship. They watch for cracks. You wanna stay in as a SEAL, you better not have one,” said Sr. Chief Masterson.

That had brought a smile to his lips.

“Fuckin’ pervert! I didn’t mean your butt crack. I mean your head’s gotta be right, but I’m with most my peers in this. If you can’t fuck you can’t fight. So I guess I should feel grateful at least you have a sense of humor and a dirty mind. That’s a good sign.”

“Yessir.” He stifled his snicker and gave him a sigh instead. “I just need a break with all the memories here.”

That had been part of the reason. The fact that Shayla took up with another Team Guy on Team 4 didn’t help things at all. It was a hell of a thing to come back from deployment and find someone else in your brand new king-sized bed that hit your credit card while you were sleeping in a sandy cave overseas.

So here he was, pumping iron and trying to fit in. Except that the guys on Kyle’s team looked like they were right out of high school. At thirty-four years of age, they’d already started calling him “Grandpa.”

Well, he was here to show them he could probably bench press more than anyone, and had taken probably a thousand more halo jumps in his career. He was going to make it to fifteen years, which would happen in two years, and then he’d see if he had the stones to stay in a full twenty, although sitting behind a desk never really appealed to him. Older guys who became too senior didn’t do the active deployments. Right about ten years, most of them started moving on to something else, if they didn’t do it at six years, which is where most of them left at.

But one thing Trace was, if he was anything, was stubborn. He’d leave on his own terms, as long as his body didn’t give out on him. Every jump had his LPOs holding their breath, even though he felt fine. They’d give a younger guy time to heal if something happened. Not a thirteen-year man.

The tall medic, Calvin Cooper, came in with a short ugly dude they called Fredo. They were about as opposite as friends could be, but word had it that they were tighter than the ass on a chipmunk. Fredo kind of looked like a small furry creature himself, with his unibrow and the wide, flat nose like an Ewok. These guys were seniors, he was told. He should show them the respect they deserved. They had a few years less service, but they were well thought of, and if they liked you, you were in with the rest of the squad.

“Hey, gramps. You take your Metamucil this morning?” the shorter one asked him.

“No time. I was doing the tat artist and she took her time with me, too.” He wiggled his eyebrows at Coop. He’d received intel Coop had been sweet on the little lady with tits the size of balloons. He’d let her do the frog prints up his right arm, like all the rest of the guys on Kyle’s team.

Coop didn’t react, but Trace could almost hear the cracking of granite inside the tall SEAL’s chest. So Trace had to rub it in and displayed his arm, still with the plastic wrap attached, showing off his new reddened frog print tattoo.

Fredo swore in Spanish. “He’s a clown this one. Coop, we’re gonna have to watch out for him.” Coop still said nothing. Fredo continued, “Besides which, you’re a fuckin’ liar. She wouldn’t want anything to do with the likes of you. She’s got herself a homicide detective who brings his own cuffs, right Coop?”

“That’s right. I still got the scars,” Coop said, fingering his wrist.

Trace stood up so they could see he was nearly as tall as Coop, who was the tallest man on the squad. “You’re right fellas, she only gave me a blowjob.”

Coop smirked and still didn’t rise to the bait. Fredo did it for him.

“You gotta dirty mouth, Bennett. You better hope you pack your own chute from now on.”

Trace worked alone and vowed to find a training buddy, or they’d assign him to someone who would be annoying.

“I’ll spot you if you trust me,” Coop said in his soft Midwest drawl.

Trace thought about it for a minute and nodded, rolled on his back and under the bar he’d set at one hundred pounds. He gripped the bar and extended.

“Hold it right there for ten seconds,” yelled Coop.

Trace was fine until the slow count of twelve, but he wouldn’t give up. Coop got to thirteen and then counted ten, and Trace lowered the bar. Coop took it from him and set it gently on the bar catcher.

“That was a nice one, Trace. You’re one strong motherfucker,” said Coop.

“Guess you won’t be calling me grandpa again, then?” Trace said as he lifted the bar a second time, holding it straight-armed to a genuine count of ten, and brought it back down, where Coop rested it.

“That’s a function of age, not strength. But hell, if you got it, you’ll earn your spot here fair and square,” added Fredo.

Amornpan, the gym owner, wafted back into the room. “Hello fellas. You got a new guy with you?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Trace said as he sat up. “I’m Trace Bennett. On Kyle’s squad.”

“Oh you don’t have to tell me that.” She slapped her forearm to show she’d noticed his tat. She put her glasses on and started working on the computer. “I’ll have some paperwork for you when you’re done, Mr. Bennett,” she said without looking at him.

They went though several routines, and the three of them worked in together nicely. Afterward, Fredo poured cold water on a towel and wore it like a hoodie. Coop’s face was bright red. Trace had worked a bit longer and harder than he’d intended, but he wanted to impress the stalwarts of the team.

“So we got a vacation coming up. You up for a little sun and fun?” Coop asked him.

“Not sure what you mean. I just got here. Nothing wrong with San Diego’s sun and fun.”

“Nah, man. I mean Hawaii.” Coop had his towel around his neck, sweat rolling down in rivulets all over his face and chest. “Bunch of us are going in on a big house on Kauai with like eight bedrooms. Got it for the week. We’re bringing wives and girlfriends, so you’re welcome to if you want. We’re asking everyone for a five hundred, and that will include everything but the bar tab and eating out, and the air fare of course.”

“Sounds good.”

“Put you down for one or two?” asked Fredo.

“Just one. I’m solo right now.”

“Okay, you’ll probably get the couch, then.” Coop continued, “Fair warning, there are a few babies coming, but no kids. Some have babies they can’t be separated from yet. You get the idea.”

“Yeah. Breast feeding.”

Fredo burst out laughing. “You’re all right, Trace! He comes already packaged for the program.”

“You gotta understand, this isn’t my first picnic, and I’ve been on Team vacations before. I know the drill.” Trace didn’t want to dwell too much on some of the trips he and Shayla had taken in the past. There was a lot of naughtiness, some that got couples in trouble, and of course a whole lot of drinking. This time he was single, and was kind of looking forward to it.

Chapter 2

Gretchen had all three girls in the kitchen for a quick bowl of soup before their pickup. Clover was displaying a long face and lack of enthusiasm for anything, wearing her backpack slipping off one shoulder. She finally dumped it on the ground and climbed the stool to have her soup.

“So Mom, you going to get a bikini? Asked Rebecca. She started to pick the chicken in the chicken noodle soup from her braces.

“What makes you think I don’t already have one?” Gretchen answered with a quick smile. “Or, maybe I’ll go to the nude beach. What do you think about that?”

“Dumb,” moaned Clover. Nobody looks good with all their clothes off. Who wants to see all the veins and flabby butts and boobs that hang to their waist?” She blew on her soup and slurped without looking up.

Rebecca and Angie giggled. “Oh. My. God. She said flabby butts,” repeated Angie and the two younger daughters snickered again.

“Well, these aren’t your grandparents you know,” Gretchen was going to continue, but Rebecca cut right across her.

“Gramma’s boobies are flat as pancakes and she has to scoop them up like biscuit dough to put them in her bra and nearly falls over doing it.”

The girls laughed again.

“Shut up you guys. That’s not nice. Gramma can’t help it. That’s why I’m not ever going to have any children. I want to be skinny and tall and have nothing that gives me a black eye when I run, like boobs.” Clover droned on. Her little sisters thought she was hilarious.

“Okay, now let me explain a couple of things first.” Gretchen was entertained, but knew she had to give them a primer or the week-long stay with their dad and his new fiancé would turn out to be a disaster, and perhaps ruin her trip. She didn’t want to get midnight calls from the girls in tears, and knew it was a distinct possibility.

“Give them their space,” said Rebecca.

“Tell Joanie her cooking is fabulous,” said Angela.

“Try not to listen when they start screwing and you hear dad grunting like a pig,” said Clover.

Gretchen had to smile at that one. She couldn’t help but add her dose of humor. “Are you sure that’s your dad you’re hearing?”

“Oh Mom! I’m gonna tell!” teased Rebecca.

“You’ll do nothing of the kind,” quipped Gretchen. Listening to the girls banter and tease each other, she was proud of the way they’d turned out. They had a healthy respect for relationships, and took the breakup of their father and mother in style, all of them knowing full well their father had been on TV and they’d even seen the video posted by one of those celebrity shows, their father doing Jell-O shots without his shirt on, lapping them up between the dancer’s enormous boobs. Gretchen explained that men went crazy for boobs, that they could be led around by the nose with the chance to just look at a woman’s enormous boobs, and that their father was no different.

The fact that he played for the Portland Trailblazers was just something he did. Unlike the effect he had on everyone else around him, to the girls, he was just dad who had a weakness for bad behavior and pretty blonde girls much younger than he. He was special only because he was their father and not due to anything he did on the court or in the bedroom.

Gretchen hadn’t accepted a penny of Tony Sanders’ money. She allowed him to set up college funds for the girls, but she wanted him to feel as useless to their upbringing as she did the night she watched the video of him in her living room. And that’s when she decided never to keep anything from the girls. They had a right to know.

The doorbell rang.

“Okay, it’s show time!” Gretchen spouted. Now is the time to go for a quick pee if you need to.”

“Mom, they have bathrooms at the arena,” said Clover. She opened the front door before Gretchen could answer.

Joanie was one of those girls who could have made toothpaste commercial. Her dazzling white perfectly straight teeth matched the whites of her enormous blue eyes. She had flawless tanned skin with an eternal rosy glow to her cheeks. Angela had asked Gretchen once why her cheeks sparkled and she had to explain it was in the blush Joanie wore. Her lips were extra full and plump and the rosy color matched her blush.

“Hi there girls!” Joanie said as she jumped up and down like a cheerleader. “We’re going to have such a wonderful time! I can hardly wait to have pool fights and pajama parties and ice cream Sundays with you guys, so we can do some real girl talk and get to know each other!”

The enthusiasm Joanie expended was not returned. It was as if all the basketballs on the court were half deflated. The two younger girls looked up to their tall sister, who was about four inches taller than Joanie. “Yeah. That sounds great, doesn’t it?” Clover said, looking back down on them.

The two little ones nodded obediently.

While Joanie was getting pumped up picking up backpacks and duffel bags of things, Clover rolled her eyes at Gretchen and then put her finger down her throat, careful not to let anyone else see the action.

Gretchen frowned, and then grabbed Clover and gave her a hug and kiss on the cheek. “You take good care of your two sisters, Clover. I’m putting all my faith in you,” she whispered in her ear.

“I’m only doing this for you, Mom, so you can take a vacation that you sorely need. I hope you wear that bikini, and you meet a nice Hawaiian boy who,” she wiggled her eyebrows and leaned in, “you know, treats you fine.”

Gretchen laughed and hugged her again.

“Joanie, they’ve been really looking forward to spending some time with you and Tony. Thank you for doing this. You sure it’s not too much?”

“Oh no!” Joanie wrinkled her perfect unlined brow. “Growing up I was always the one who took care of all the pets. We had chickens, too, and three dogs and a parakeet named Scooter. I love taking care of children and animals. I’m really good with them. You’ll see, huh, girls?” She kneeled down like a coach was encouraging her scrappy team, held up her palm and the little ones gave her the high five. Clover waited and fist-bumped.

Gretchen watched them all trudge down the stairs to Joanie’s SUV. She was prancing around the vehicle, opening up the hatch and the doors, helping to load the duffel bags in her pink running suit and matching pink shoes, her hair up in a pony tail held with a pink scruncci with a pink flower at the end of it. Her ponytail wagged from side to side as she bounced, her chest also in motion. Gretchen could only imagine the fantasies Tony must have watching her do anything.

Well, good for him. That was never me.

Joanie bounded up the steps and gave her a hug, which nearly threw her off balance. “Now. You go away and have yourself one heck of a time and don’t you worry about a thing.”

Gretchen hugged her back and nearly sneezed from the heavy perfume she wore. “Thanks, Joanie. I appreciate this. You call me if anything comes up. Don’t be afraid. You won’t spoil my vacation,” she lied.

“Nonsense. What could come up?”

Her eternal smile and peppy face bounced with the rest of her body back down the stairs, where she perched herself behind the wheel, waved and began to roll out the driveway.

Gretchen saw the three faces of her precious joys of her life framed by the SUV windows, and missed them already. As they waved, they looked sad, but Gretchen worked on herself to blow kisses and look like she didn’t have a care in the world.

But the truth was, she’d never known anything else but being their mother. Now, playing a single woman on her own, even if it was for one week, seemed so far from her comfort zone, she almost called the car back and changed her mind.

But a promise was a promise. She’d promised Kate she’d go and help her with their toddler, Grady. She also was looking forward to hanging out with Tyler’s sister, the famous romance novelist Linda Gray, who was also single and about Gretchen’s age. If she lived her life anything close to how she wrote her books, she sounded like she’d be a whole lot of fun.

And of course, there were to be some unattached SEALs floating through here and there, Tyler had told her. What could be wrong with that, even if they were all too young for her? Wasn’t like she’d be looking for a long-term relationship, especially with those boy scouts. But a little dancing, some stargazing and lying out on a white sandy beach was just what the doctor ordered.

Chapter 3

Trace picked up his nylon duty bag, except this time it was filled with flippers, snorkel, sunscreen, shorts, several pairs of flip flops and some tees, his TRX for workouts and his special protein shakes and meal replacement bottles. The thing was nearly as heavy as when it was filled with firepower.

The Lihue airport on Kauai was muggy. As he set down his bag, he scanned the crowd. He found Tyler Gray standing nearby. Kate was holding their new baby, about six months old, who was sleeping against her chest. He saw a couple other Team Guys and some SEAL froglettes, but his eye was drawn to a woman wearing a bright red flowered top, a red sun hat, unloading red suitcases with white hearts all over them. He turned to Tyler.

“Who’s the eccentric with the red shit?”

Tyler grinned and glanced first at his wife, then answered, “My sister.”

Trace took a step backward. “Next you’re gonna tell me she’s a drag queen. Didn’t know you had that in your family tree, my man.”

“Look, grandpa. I’ll bet my sister could teach even old crusty and arthritic you a thing or two about sex. She writes some of the hottest romance novels on the planet.”

“Ew. That’s a sort of tummy twister, Tyler. Reading sex scenes your sister writes.” Trace felt his face turn into a prune, until he saw an attractive slim blonde lady in pastel colors standing behind Kate, her hand over her mouth, snickering. He softened his reaction, stood straight and instinctively stuck out his chest.

She looked a lot like Kate, Tyler’s wife.

“I’ll have you know one of those books of hers is the reason Kate and I got together. I was reading it on the plane when we met. I read it to help her with technical stuff, and…” Tyler hesitated.

Kate pulled out the book and showed Trace. The model on the cover was nearly naked, the veins below his belly button disappearing dangerously into the waistband of a low-hung set of well-worn jeans. He couldn’t see anything of the model’s face, except the chin, but there was no mistaking the dimple there, identical to Tyler’s.

“You’re kiddin’.”

“That’s my man. One hunky cover model,” Quipped Kate. She wrapped her arm around Tyler’s waist, looked up and accepted his kiss.

Trace was going to swear, but stopped himself. The blonde was still giggling.

“And I suppose you like this sort of thing?” Trace said to her.

“I love it. I love her books. Here she comes. Let me introduce her,” she said.

Trace turned around, but he smelled the red woman before he got his eyes on her. She was giving instructions to an island-looking baggage handler, rummaging in her purse for some tip money. There were no less than four bags, all big ones, and the handler had them precariously perched on the tiny cart.

Trace checked back with Tyler, who nodded. “Hey, sis, I have a friend I want you to meet.”

The lady in red glanced up and took in Trace like she’d just been given an icy glass of water on a hot day.

“Well hello, there, gorgeous!” She gushed. She stepped back, nearly collapsing the pile of suitcases on the short Hawaiian helper.

Taking a long pull with her eyes, Trace felt physically undressed as she worked her way up from his ankles, weaving as her gaze traveled up his torso and back to his face. He blushed in spite of himself.

“Oh. My. Gawd. He’s shy!”

Tyler and Kate laughed out loud. The blonde woman to his left again covered her mouth with her hand and looked down.

He saw the novelist step toward him again. He raised his hands to give up, when she leaned in and whispered in her throaty voice, “But something tells me you’re not in the bedroom. You see sex as a full contact sport, am I right?”

A small crowd had gathered to watch their interchange, and Trace had to do something quick or he’d just need to leave. He grabbed her around her waist, drew her to his chest and put a lip lock on her worthy of an airtight space seal. He growled and then whispered back to the shaking woman, “How was that? Honey, best wear your gator repellent and a bullet proof vest when playing with me.”

As he released her, she began to wobble, bracing herself on her brother, repositioned her red sun hat, which had gotten dislodged, and sucked in air.

“So, Trace, this is my sister, Linda. I can see you’ve already gotten intimately acquainted with the insides of her mouth.”

Trace extended his hand, which dwarfed the tiny, white, red polished adorned hand of the writer in front of him, who placed her hand there before he wrapped his fingers around it and squeezed gently.

“Very nice to meet you, romance writer Linda. I’ve never met one before.”

Now it was her turn to blush. He could tell she wasn’t used to being upstaged when it came to the being outrageous part. He angled his head to check out the reaction on the blonde.

Her curly hair was unruly from the long plane flight from San Diego, and stuck out from behind her ears and where her clip failed. He wondered how he’d missed seeing her amongst the passengers, and then remembered Tyler and the family had flown First Class. She was a first class kind of lady.

“And you must be related to her,” Trace said as he pointed to Kate.

She gave him a full smile, and was quick to extend her arm. “I’m Gretchen, Kate’s older sister.”

Trace felt her warm fingers that weren’t afraid to show strength. As they shook, she added, “I love reading Linda’s novels, but rest assured, I’m no writer.”

She tried to pull her hand back, and Trace thought it might be a good idea to hold onto her for a bit, leaning slightly toward her.

“You want a kiss too?”

“No thanks. The handshake is fine,” she said as she stripped her hand from his grip, but then gave him another beautiful smile without blushing.

“I see you’ve met two of the single women already, Trace,” said Fredo after he slapped him on the back. You’re lucky. If I’d have done that to Mia when I first met her—she’s Armando’s sister—he would have kicked my ass.”

Tyler shrugged. “She needed it. Bad.” He smirked at his sister who now had her hands on her hips.

“Tyler Gray. That’s a terrible comment.”

“But I was just telling the truth,” Tyler responded.

“Don’t mind him. He was looking out for you, Linda. You said you wanted more hero material for your books, Linda. You just got one very close encounter with the wolfish kind,” said Kate between laughs. The baby began to stir and she bounced him and winked back at Trace.

Linda stood on her tiptoes, arched her back and asked him, “So, if I asked you real nice like, very sweet like, would you do it again?” She followed it up by batting her big brown eyes at him. He usually liked that sort of behavior on a woman. And the fact that she was up for round 2 definitely was in her favor. But he was distracted by the blonde.

“To be honest, I usually like my ladies in pairs. You get your friend here, Gretchen, and I’ll see you two down at the water’s edge this evening. How about that?”

Linda gave mock disappointment. He checked blondie’s face and saw a frown.

“Not me. I don’t like to share.”

Trace had the urge to go all commando on her, which would have been a completely ridiculous idea.

Reel it in, gramps. You’re new on the team. The entertainment is over. Time to get serious.

“Okay, now that we got that out of the way, who needs help with their bags?”

Both Gretchen and several other ladies standing nearby, not with the Team, raised their hands. Linda Gray stood next to her bag boy and shrugged, turning around in a huff.

There were ten of their party present, and others arriving on a later flight from LA. The Air BNB organizer had arranged to take them to the property, and leave her fifteen-passenger van behind with them. Trace sat in the back seat with Fredo, after helping to load the bags into the small compartment in the rear. They had a couple of red suitcases with the hearts stacked between them on the bench seat.

Linda and her new friend, Gretchen, sat with Kate and Tyler. Coop and Libby sat with a couple of other Team Guys who were also solo.

The operator was short, about as big around as she was tall, and sported a Mumu and a plastic orchid in her hair.

“A-Loo-Ha!” she said in the greeting of the islands. She waited and the response was lackluster, so she started the engine to begin the air, but turned to face her audience behind in the bench seats.

“Okay, first the ground rules. When you come to Hawaii you have to answer back when you are greeted with the island greeting. And you do it this way, with gusto!” She inhaled and belted out, “A-Loo-Ha!”

Everyone in the van repeated her greeting back to her.

“Good. Glad that’s settled. As you know my husband will be bringing up your other group. So you just sit back and relax. I’ll be using this little microphone,” she tapped the mouthpiece attached on top of a metal stem mounted on the dash, “to give you some details about our island on our way. It will take about forty-five minutes, unless we get traffic. Then it will be two hours.”

She giggled in glee worthy of any horror show. Trace noticed how easy it was for her to break the ice.

“Okay, so anyone want to back out? The airplanes back to California are right over there.” She pointed to the airport and got a ripple of laughter.

Trace put his right elbow on the pile of two suitcases covered in the white hearts, and rested his head in his palm, waiting to be entertained. The novelist scanned over her shoulder and gave him a flirt, ignoring Fredo. When she’d turned away, Fredo knocked his elbow loose, jarring his repose.

“Don’t fall asleep. The party’s just begun, my friend.”

“How come your wife isn’t here, Fredo?” he asked.

“We had twins three months ago. She didn’t want them to fly, so she sent me on my own, to babysit all you bachelors, since Kyle’s on that training in D.C.”

Trace knew how it worked. If the Team Leader couldn’t be there, even on a big recreational trip, then his two seconds, which would be Cooper and Fredo, would take over, be his eyes and ears. Sometimes Armando as well. But Fredo was responsible for making sure the bachelors behaved themselves and didn’t negatively reflect on the Navy or the SEALs.

“Congratulations! Hope to meet them soon,” Trace was pleased for the Latino SEAL. “Boys or girls?”

“One each.”

“You’re a fertile motherfucker.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Fredo said, his voice fading out to watch scenery.

Trace tapped his arm and Fredo gave him attention. “Can you believe this?” Trace mouthed, and then pointed to the red suitcases.

Fredo pointed to Tyler, “Sister,” he mouthed.

Trace nodded. “Four suitcases,” he motioned with his fingers and mouthed silently.

Fredo shrugged. He pointed to Kate’s sister. He kissed his fingers at his lips and then pointed again at Gretchen.

Trace wiggled his eyebrows. A Team Guy’s sister was one thing, but a SEAL wife’s sister could cause a whole lot of heartache in numerous families, so it was watched very carefully. Fredo was giving his thumb’s up. It was the go-ahead, not that Trace really needed it, to proceed.

“You know her?” Trace whispered.

Fredo nodded. He gave Trace the AOK. “Golden,” he mouthed. Then he added, swinging his arms as if holding a baby, “Three babies,” me indicated.

Trace frowned. And then he gave an exaggerated shudder.

Fredo shook his head in disagreement. He showed three levels with his hands, indicating three different heights, or ages of the Gretchen’s girls. He also winked and kissed his fingers again, indicating they were nice girls.”

Trace shrugged. He couldn’t see himself dating a mother of three. He hoped there’d be some variety once they got to their place. Dating the novelist was totally out of the question, but that’s what everyone was expecting, including the writer herself.

Way to step in it, Trace.

So far, things were not looking as uncomplicated as he’d hoped. But there were six days to go.

When the van turned left off the two-lane meandering highway, and headed into the hills sparsely dotted with multi-million dollar homes, Trace could see that the venue they’d chosen was prime. Each house they passed became more estate-like, the gates got fancier and the humidity and heat lessened the higher they climbed. Finally they drove onto a lava rock paver tile strip with room for parking outside a pale yellow painted iron gate with a pineapple pattern in squares like pieces of a metal quilt. Their driver punched in numbers on the keypad outside and the gate slid across the lava rock, which became part of a circular driveway in front of a plantation-style pale yellow home. Though the structure was square with second story gables, the size of it made the second story dwarf in comparison. An even more generous wraparound deck nearly twenty feet deep was decorated with wooden gingerbread railings also with the pineapple motif. Double glass doors were etched in a lacy pineapple design as well.

The air was cool, with a slight breeze, yet the sun was shining without a cloud in the bright azure sky. Below, green hills rolled amongst rows of plantings and farm animals, and occasional horses, which seemed out of place. Furthest away was the warm expanse of cream-colored beach and blue breakwater. The horizon was marred with several large hotel complexes and two spectacular golf courses. Trace knew that most tourists were housed below, near the golfing and shopping and beach, but the old Hawaiians with money would seek the privacy and beauty of their hillside estates. It nearly took his breath away.

“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Gretchen whispered as she appeared to his left.

“Nope. I don’t think I have. Isn’t what I was expecting to see here in Hawaii. Like how it must have looked a hundred years ago, if you could cut out the hotels,” he answered.

“Oh. My. God. This is the perfect setting for my next novel! The Hawaiian Princess and the Navy SEAL. Can’t you just feel the romance budding? I see sex in an awesome master bedroom, which this place surely has, sex on a grandmother’s Hawaiian quilt spread under a papaya tree and sex on the sun-kissed beach, can’t you, Gretchen?”

Trace was amused by her outspoken and overtly sexual expressions, but he could see she’d embarrassed Gretchen, whose cheeks had turned a blotchy hot pink.

“She’s a little ahead of herself, I’d say,” whispered Trace to ease Gretchen’s tension. “I mean, they’ve not met yet in her book, right? Has she even started it?”

Gretchen giggled and shook her head, no. “But I understand her method is to start with the sex scene and then work her way forward and back from that big event.” She gave him a dazed look and rolled her eyes, as well as her shoulders. “But I don’t write books and I’ve got zero imagination.”

Trace knew she was wrong just by the way she said it.

“What time of the day is the sex at the beach?” Trace asked. He held his breath and let her struggle, but finally she gave him a thoughtful answer.

“She’d say at sunset, a bright orange sunset. But for me, close to midnight with the black sky and all the stars on display. Maybe some ukulele music and an old Hawaiian woman singing in the background.”

Trace was taken aback. It was the same vision he’d had. Without the Ukulele music, of course.

“Mrs. Sanders, I’d say you have a very good imagination,” he whispered in her ear, squeezed her upper arm and pushed past her to retrieve luggage from the van where the others were.

Gretchen was going to say something back to him but had gotten snagged by Linda Gray. He heard them discussing something as he put distance between them—well, Linda discussing and Gretchen listening. He turned his head around just enough to see Gretchen watching him walk away.

Now that was a good sign, and way more to his liking.

Chapter 4

Gretchen avoided Trace’s eyes, but she could tell he was watching her every chance he had. She’d not had that much attention since the TV reporters who hounded her after her husband’s very public display of indecency. In that case, these heartless reporters even ramped it up when she was with her daughters. Clover even ran after one of them, and, thank goodness, didn’t catch up with the cameraman, or they’d have had a lawsuit for sure.

Even that landed on the tabloid TV show and her ex had the gall to call Gretchen up and ream her about not getting better control of their girls.

What an asshole.

But this kind of attention made her nipples knot, made her knees wobble a little, made her want to run her fingers through her hair and reposition her clip several times, always leaving a wisp or two of curls lapping down the back of her neck because it made her feel wanted and desired. She knew her cheeks were flushed and her panties were in a constant state of wet and cool, depending on if she was sitting or standing on the porch, hanging on to the pale yellow wooden pillar and marveling at the view below. She knew wood, especially painted wood, was not the way of the islands now. This house had obviously been built during the old plantation days, when the monarchy was in its glory. The old Queen was gone now for nearly a hundred years, but her legacy of grace, raising beautiful tropical flowers and her love of singing and watching the young dancers swing their hips and call to each other with their graceful arms and hands, was legendary. She herself had once been a beauty and had been an expert Polynesian dancer.

Maybe there was something to what Linda said, because the story of the Hawaiian princess and the Navy SEAL started fanning the flames of her heart, making the hairs on the back of her neck desire to be kissed.

She could tell he was staring at her, and that he knew she was aware of it, too. She gave him a smile and did not dare look for his reaction. All she could do was fan herself with the folder she was holding, and then take down and re-clip her hair again, for the tenth time in the past hour as they had been setting things up in the house.

They’d given her a room with Linda, one of the smaller ones, with twin beds. But she loved the privacy, and the little marble-topped writing desk in front of the gabled window. The flush of cool ocean breeze was something she was looking forward to inhaling all night long as she slept.

Trace was standing at the doorway, and of course, like a gentleman, would not come into the room without an invitation. She could imagine herself as the island princess and he, a pirate sea captain, not daring to touch her, for fear of losing his life. The tension was there, just the same in this century as it could have been way back over a hundred years ago.

“I think I’ve just found a prettier view. Too bad you can’t see it,” he said, casually, in a near-whisper. But she heard every word.

Turning, she snickered at his lack of uniform, no hat tucked under his arm, because he wore flip flops and shorts that came just to the tops of his knees. His well-developed calf muscles were covered with dark hair. His white V-neck tee shirt was so bright she nearly needed shades, and he had a pair of sunglasses tucked into the bottom of the V. His day plus old stubble was distracting, as was the drip of sweat that trickled from under his chin, down between his collarbone to parts unknown. Part of the tee shirt had stuck to his chest and abdomen below.

He uncrossed his arms and angled his head, waiting for a response. “You think I look funny?”

She gave him a graceful smile worthy of an island princess of great lineage. “No, Trace. I was thinking about—“

“How nice it would be to go down to the beach.” Linda interrupted, pushing the big hulking SEAL aside. “Are you game, or do my stories of sex on the white sand make you itch?” She wiggled her eyebrows, oblivious of the scene she’d just crashed. “I’m in the mood for an umbrella drink and some bare bodies to go gaze at.” She opened her red suitcase up and pulled out a red beach bag. “I’m changing into my bikini now,” she said as she removed her top and revealed a red bra with pink lipstick kisses on it.

Trace was out of there so fast Gretchen wasn’t sure he even got a glimpse of the bra.

“You like?” Linda fondled the satin cups of her bra.

Gretchen laughed. “You’re the only person I know who matches her luggage with her underwear. Very clever.”

“You have no idea, dear. I had to hunt and hunt. But thank God for Amazon. Now they show me everything pink and red with hearts and kisses.”

Gretchen watched through the window as another van pulled up to the front porch and several people piled out. Trace was greeting several of the guys and was introduced to a pair of very cute twenty-somethings and instantly she was disappointed seeing his wide smile and ready hug.

Linda peered over her shoulder.

“Oh, Gretchen. Here I was jealous of you, since you’ve obviously attracted Trace’s attention. And now we both have competition from those little sweet tarts.”

“Gretchen looked away from the window and walked to her bed. “No worries. I’m looking for a superrich investment mogul who owns his own island, and only likes women over thirty.”

“Good idea, Gretchen. SEAL’s don’t make that much, but I understand the sex is worth it.” She was examining her clothes, trying to pick out a combination. Most everything in her suitcase was red.

Gretchen was slightly irritated. “Is everything about sex with you?”

“Yup. Sex sells.” She held up a red and pink flowered sarong and examined herself in the mirror, holding the fabric under her chin. “You like this on me?”

“How do you feel wearing it?”

“Positively like a cougar waiting to pounce. But the answer to your question is, yes, maybe. It’s called the law of attraction.” Her beautiful brown eyes sparkled. Gretchen knew she was about to get a lesson she hadn’t asked for.

“So let’s have it,” Gretchen said as she sat on the bed, rummaging through her own clothes.

“Everything is sales. We are selling each other right now.”

“Come again?” She was seriously concerned for Linda’s state of mind.

“We don’t know each other very well, just met today, right?”

“Yes. On the plane.”

“Exactly. Tyler and Kate met on the plane. They fell in love on that plane that day, remember?”

Gretchen frowned. “Linda, I hope you haven’t gotten the wrong message here.”

“Oh, silly. I love women, but not in bed. But I love getting silly drunk with my women friends. Just the best thing in the world. The funny banter and gossip. I can tell you and I could do a serious drunk together and wind up feeling like we’ve been sisters our whole lives.”

“You are close to Kate that way now?”

“No, silly. She has the baby, she has Tyler, and she’s not the same as me, temperament wise. Now Tyler? If he wasn’t my brother, OMG, OMG, he would be so much fun. And we did have fun in high school. He helped fix me up big time.”

“Not the other way around?”

“He never liked any of my slutty friends.” She gave Gretchen a smirk. “His loss, if you ask me. Those girls would have treated him fine, and worshiped the ground he walked on, too. But he fixed me up with tamer guys and I got what I could out of them. I mean, drop dead gorgeous, gentlemen, you know. Wouldn’t touch me until they thought it was right. Nice guys. Oh man, I bolloxed them up something good.”

“Bolloxed?”

“Messed with their brains. You know, stroked their ego, and then I just stroked them and I loved blowing their minds.”

“And they never called you back.”

Linda dropped another piece of lingerie and stared back at Gretchen. “Sadly, no. How did you know that?”

“Because I don’t think men like to be chased. They like to do the hunting.”

“But so do I.”

“Then hunt for something else. Don’t hunt a man. At least, if I did it, it wouldn’t work. You have to just be there, and you hope that they get the message. Nice guys are worth it.”

“I have no patience. But you see, that’s why we’re going to be great friends. You can teach me a lot about men. Have you had a lot of them?”

Gretchen looked at her hands folded in her lap. She would have to tell Linda the truth.

“I only had sex with one man, and I married him.”

“Gretchen!” Linda ran over to the bed, pulled her up to standing position and gave her a big hug. “You poor thing! Starved, absolutely starved! That’s so unfair, sweetie.” She Gretchen’s chin and looked at her sorrowfully. “My heart is breaking for you, Gretchen.” She actually produced tears, which Gretchen thought was miraculous.

Grabbing Linda’s hands, which still held her and pushing her away slightly, Gretchen got her composure back. “I’ve been raising three beautiful daughters. I’ve had boyfriends, and we’ve done some things, you know, but no sex. I just don’t want to have sex with someone I couldn’t marry. I know it’s crazy, but that’s the way I was brought up. Or, at least, that’s the way I thought I was.”

Linda stepped back. “There’s a story there,” she said, pointing to Gretchen.

“Oh yes, there really is. Sometime when we’re having those umbrella drinks, I’ll tell you the tale my mother told me about the time Tyler and Kate had decided to get married.”

“Spill.”

“I’m not going to right now. But Kate and I have different fathers.”

“So your mother slept around.”

“Linda, I’ll tell you when I’m ready.” Gretchen was getting irritated with her again. “But no, it wasn’t anything like that. If you could get your mind out of the gutter, you might actually learn there are some really decent and cool love stories out there, and they’re way more about love than sex.”

Gretchen made a beeline for the hallway so she could hit the rest room before she was going to erupt into tears, and ran smack into Trace Bennett’s chest.

“Hold on there, darlin’” he said in that low growl while his deep blue eyes made her heart flutter. “I had no idea you wanted to dance so bad. You need to wait until I get my dancin’ shoes on. These don’t move.”

He looked down at his toes and they both watched him wiggle them. But while they were watching, he’d slipped his arms around her waist and her palms had spread out on his wet tee shirt. Her lips were close to his Adam’s apple and the dark scruffiness of his jawline. And they were so very close to his lips if she’d just raise her chin up, which she did. He was whispering something soft and she didn’t dare listen because her spine had gone all tingly and if she wasn’t imagining things, something was taking firm shape between them as he pressed her to him until their thighs touched through fabric.

“You smell like heaven, Gretchen. Like a starlit night on a beach.”

“I didn’t think stars smelled like anything,” she said as she waited, and let him angle down toward her mouth. She was hungry for him, but, just before he could cover her lips, the hallway was filled with chatty newcomers.

“Well, I can see some people are deep into their vacation already,” said Ollie. He was overflowing with suitcases and he dropped one, which was quickly picked up by one of the twenty-somethings accompanying him.

Gretchen immediately pulled away and she and Trace left a wide gap for the entourage to pass. The “twins” gave her a smile that hinted at warmth but was laced with something else. Ollie gave her a wink and sashayed between them all, one case above his head.

Trace had his hands in his shorts, checking out his wiggling toes. When their eyes finally connected, Gretchen saw the fire was still there and her pulse quickened. When he gave her a lopsided smile and rubbed his chin, she nearly fainted.

More people were coming up the stairs. Trace gracefully hopped across the hallway to stand next to Gretchen. He bent down and whispered, “To be continued, my dear.”

She watched him maneuver around suitcase-carrying well-built men and young women as he made his way down the stairs. Gretchen retreated to the bedroom, closed the door, leaned against it and closed her eyes.

“Well done.”

She’d forgotten Linda was still in the room. With her breathing ragged and her embarrassment stabbing her stomach lining with little pitchforks, she felt exposed, and without defenses.

“You’ve got it bad, sweetie.”

She knew Linda was right. But she had to attempt to show she was casual about the whole thing—if she could. “Just not used to the guy flirting with me before I’m ready. I’m way out of practice.” She saw Linda nodding in response. Gretchen was proud of herself. Her comment was nearly 100% truthful.

“He’s a babe magnet all right. I’ll grant you that. I’m going to honor your territory.”

“Linda, no need for that. I’m a big girl. Just rusty.” Then she stopped herself. “Actually, that was a fib. I never was any good at it.”

“Well, make sure you have a case of condoms because I have a feeling you’re going to get all the practice you need, plus a little extra for desert. You’ll do fine. He looks like he wants to lead, so let him. Holy hell I wish I was in your shoes.”

“Might make it into you book, then?”

“Could be. Most my friends are in my books—not that they’d recognize themselves. I take a kernel of the truth and explode it into something they’d never think of. My guilty pleasure. But, if you want to share any details, I’m your gal. You sure you two have never met before?” Linda quickly slipped on a red polka dot bikini, turning her back so Gretchen could tie the spaghetti straps together at her shoulder blades.

“Just like the song, Linda.”

“Who was that who sang it?” she asked.

“Beats me.”

“Bryan something. Except it was a Yellow Polka Dot Bikini.”

“You think they’ll notice? That’s the smallest thing I’ve seen. Mine’s a one-piece.”

“You’re kidding?”

“I like a little tummy help after three girls.”

“Yes, and my little tummy is all mine. No children to blame it on. A little lazy, I guess.”

“Well, I tried. But in the end, all I wanted to be was just a good mom. Not a movie star, or a celebrity like you.”

“Oh nonsense, Gretchen. You’re gorgeous. And you married a celebrity, so you know what that’s all about. What a total jerk, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.” She had tied and re-tied the strings together, and was finally satisfied the bow was straight. “There. I think that meets my high standards. And I double tied it, so in case you get the sudden need to flash your boobs on the beach, just understand your top may not fall to the sand gracefully when you pull the strings.” Gretchen fluttered her eyelashes for extra effect.

“You should be a romance writer,” said Linda. “You’re a natural. Flashing boobs and having things fall delicately to the sand. Oh my, what an imagination you have!”

“Don’t lie to me. I have none.”

“And you’re a very good liar too.”

Chapter 5

Trace noted Linda and Gretchen took one of the three vehicles left with the house, heading down to the Blue Water Bay Resort. He doubted they’d want to be on the beach at the hot part of the day, so figured he’d catch them in the bar later on after the rest of the crew was situated back at the house. Kate and Libby were organizing a shopping trip to load up on staples, which was in the same center as the resort, so he was planning on tagging along. Coop and Fredo were also going to come.

There was a Polynesian review every Sunday night at the resort, which was supposed to be quite spectacular, so he hoped he could get an informal date with Gretchen this evening, and he’d take Linda too if he had to. The whole house was commenting on Linda and her antics. But she was family and would be a source of entertainment in case any of them needed it, and therefore she was always welcome.

Kyle called in and got the report they’d all arrived safely. He spoke briefly with Fredo and Cooper. Armando had a longer conversation with him as there was a secret mission coming up that was going to involve only a handful of the guys.

Libby was anxious to get their shopping done, so she asked Trace if he was ready to go.

“Whenever you’re ready, ma’am.”

Libby grinned. Her tall lanky good looks were a perfect match to her husband’s six foot four frame. With Kyle not being present, it was left to Libby to keep the household organized and to serve as Mother Hen.

“You don’t have to go all ma’am and such with me, sailor. Just call me Libby, or Coop’s lady, or something like that. We’re not too formal in our household.”

“Yea, but don’t get her mad, Trace. She’s so darned pretty when she’s flustered, but wicked with the words,” Coop said, coming from behind Libby and taking her into his arms backwards. He planted a kiss on her neck.

“Duly noted, Coop.” Trace bowed to Libby. “Your chariot awaits madame when you are ready.”

Libby turned in Coop’s arms. “I like this new guy. He’s not going to stay single long, I can tell. He’s a charmer.”

“Permission granted to flirt, Libby, but just remember who you come home with.”

“Always,” she whispered and kissed Coop full on the lips, standing on her tiptoes.

Kate appeared, handed the baby to Tyler and the four of them jumped in one of the Jeeps. Trace honked the horn and soon Fredo, who had changed his shirt into a bright red Hawaiian print, jumped in the passenger seat up front with Trace.

The large modern grocery store was somewhat unexpected. It had a world-class deli, a fantastic selection of beers from around the world, even had a sushi bar and pizza oven, as well as a full bakery. Their basket was filled with items not normally on Trace’s bachelor grocery lists, but a huge variety of chips and ice cream balanced out the otherwise healthy fare. He knew he was in for some good home cooking, a luxury in his world.

“We have a signup list on the refrig,” Libby told him. “Kate, Gina and I will take turns doing the cooking, but you guys get to do prep and cleanup. We’re putting the twins in charge of housekeeping.” She rolled her eyes.

“Sounds like you have everything covered.”

“We’ve done these big trips several times. They are a lot of fun, but with the sheet, no one is stuck with all the work. Did your other Team go on trips together?” she asked.

Trace wasn’t happy about the memories. “I went on a couple before me and the ex parted ways. They were not run the same. Big booze parties with a lot of apologizing afterwards. I can tell you’ve got it dialed down.”

“That’s the way Christy Lansdowne runs it, like Kyle runs the team. I just watch and follow along what she does. I’m sure she learned it from another SEAL wife when Kyle was first starting out.”

“Good leadership all the way around. I can see why it was so hard to get attached to Kyle’s team. He and Christy are a great combination. We’re all lucky to be on Team 3.”

“I think so too.”

The bill came to over five hundred dollars, which Libby paid from an envelope of cash she carried in her purse. Fredo was in line behind them with his favorite Tequila and a bag of limes.

“I can add those on here, come on down, Fredo,” said Libby.

“No, I got this.” Fredo answered. Trace knew that meant the Tequila would be housed in his room, not in the kitchen with all the other food and drink.

Posters advertising the Sunday night buffet and show were plastered everywhere.

Coop and Trace wheeled out the two shopping carts and everyone loaded up the bags in the small storage in the back of the Jeep. Trace handed the keys to Coop.

“I’m going to try to find Gretchen and Linda. Going to see if I can interest them in the show tonight. You guys going to come?”

“I’d like to,” said Libby. “We can meet you there.” She examined his shorts and flip-flops. “Won’t you have to go home and change?”

“Honey, this is Hawaii,” Coop interrupted. “Even the bankers wear flip flops and shorts, and half of them are barefoot behind the counter. He’ll be fine.” He took the keys. “Best of luck. You get stood up and need a ride, give me a call, hear?”

“Roger that. Thanks, Coop.”

Trace searched the large open-beamed lobby and reception area at the resort, then headed to the bar area and patio, which had outstanding views of the Hanalei Valley. Just as Linda had said, the sunset was going to be a bright orange one, judging from the glow already forming in the late afternoon horizon. Large white clouds towered in the late afternoon sky, tinged in pink, which promised a light shower by morning if the trade winds blew them ashore. Kauai was the greenest of all the Hawaiian chain, with rainfall on some of its peaks nearly the highest in the world, peppering the green volcano-created hillsides with waterfalls.

The women weren’t there.

He followed a path of crush rock down to the beach area below the resort and had no trouble spotting Linda Gray’s floppy red hat. Next to her, Gretchen lay on her belly reading a book. They were shaded by a thatched palapa. Linda had been served a hollowed-out pineapple drink, while Gretchen was sipping on something pink with an umbrella and fresh fruit adorning the side of the tall glass.

Trace was surprised the beach was nearly deserted.

“Well look who I found?” he said.

Gretchen greeted him with a warm smile as she sat up. Her oiled body glistened in the diffuse light. Linda’s back and shoulders already looked like they were turning red.

“Oh Trace. You’re here just in time.” Linda rummaged through her large red beach bag. Holding up a tube of lotion, she asked, “Can you put this on my back, please?” She raised her glasses and winked at him for a special effect.

He grabbed the tube and noted she was only using a sunscreen of twenty. “You need something stronger, Linda. You’re red already.”

“See? I told you so,” added Gretchen. “Here, use this on her.” She handed him a blue spray bottle with sunscreen rated fifty.

He applied the spray and Linda arched back with a hiss crossing her teeth. “Ouch, that’s cold.”

“You’re a little burned. You should stay out of the sun for a day or two,” he said as he smoothed the oil over her skin gently. “The sun is hotter here than in California. Need to give your body time to adjust.” He turned to address Gretchen, “May I?”

“Go right ahead.”

Trace removed his shirt and gave himself a spray chest side and back side, and after smoothing the foam he used the remainder on his hands for his face and followed up with a little extra to his lower legs. When he was finished, both women were staring at him with their jaws dropping.

His immediate reaction was embarrassment, and he made a point to re-apply the sunscreen to his face to cover up a possible blush forming there.

“Anyone up for going in the water?” he asked.

Both girls stood up.

“I think you’d better wear a shirt, Linda, with your coloring,” Trace added.

“Can I wear yours?” She batted her brown eyes at him.

He acquiesced, handing it to her. She slipped it over her shoulders and winked at Gretchen. That’s when he noticed she had become quiet all of a sudden. “Well, ladies,” he said, as he extended his elbows. “Shall we dip our toes in the surf?” They locked arms and the threesome went down to the water’s edge.

“About time we saw some nice abs and biceps,” quipped Linda, holding her hat atop her head against a breeze that threatened to remove it.

“Glad I could oblige.”

Gretchen was still quiet, but her arm linked through his gave him a spark of excitement at the feel of flesh on flesh.

“There’s a big party tonight here,” he began. “They do a Sunday night buffet and a Polynesian review. Either of you interested in attending? I think Libby and Coop and some of the others are planning on coming down.”

“I saw that,” whispered Gretchen. “Looks like fun. Do they actually swallow fire?”

Trace shrugged. “Beats me, but it showcases the native dances and some customs of the islands—all the islands in the South Pacific, not just the Hawaiian chain. It was recommended by our guide.”

At the water, Linda insisted on getting Trace totally soaked as Gretchen hung back by herself. The novelist changed her mind and opted to return to their palapa and seek some shade, so she left Trace and Gretchen wandering down the beach.

“You having fun?”

Gretchen smiled to her toes. “I was just thinking about that.”

“That means you don’t take enough vacations.”

“You’re spot on with that one, Trace. I’ve just been concentrating on being a good mom, raising the girls and paying the bills.” After a brief silence, she corrected herself. “Not complaining or anything. I have a nice life. And it’s my job. I love being a mom, but honestly, everything else was put on hold when I became single.”

“I’ve been told your girls are first class, like their mother.”

“Well, you don’t want to come around on laundry or cleaning day. I look like the Wicked Witch of the West, and my demeanor is far from pleasant. The two older girls find every excuse in the book to be gone that day.”

Trace liked that she didn’t take herself seriously, and he also liked the way the sounds of their combined laughter mingled together.

“How about you?” she asked. She unclipped her hair and then folded it back into place again.

“It’s getting better. I wasn’t so sure earlier on.” He checked to make sure Linda wasn’t within earshot. “Your friend, here, cuts a wide swath. Kind of sucks up the oxygen in the room.”

“Even at the beach.” Gretchen chuckled again. “But she means well. I think she’s actually afraid of herself. More than she likes to let on.”

“And perhaps a touch too lonely,” said Trace.

Gretchen sighed at that one. “Being single for me is one thing. But for her, why she’s supposed to be the world’s expert on sex and all things romantic, but has no romantic life of her own.”

“Doesn’t seem fair, does it?” he asked her. The lowered sun had created a bright peach sky as the fluffy clouds morphed into what looked like big clumps of suspended cotton candy. Her honest eyes searched his and the urge to kiss her was rekindled.

“Maybe you should scratch that itch, Trace. I think she’s up for a little adventure.”

“Ah! Well, he said, I have another lass I’m sort of interested in, if she’ll give me the time of day—”

They stopped and he found it natural to take her right hand, lacing his fingers between hers.

“I’ve got six days to give you, Trace. And then, I go back to Portland and resume my motherly duties.”

She said it with her laughing eyes, but the comment was serious. He moved his hands to her face, tipped her head back and kissed her gently on her sweet lips. He loved the feeling of standing with her with the roar of the ocean at their side, her body shaking slightly.

“Don’t be afraid, Gretchen. Just let yourself enjoy what’s right in front of you.”

She wrapped her arms around him and buried the side of her face in his chest. But even though he stood firm, he could still feel her shaking. He could tell she needed time.

Well, the truth was, he did too.

Chapter 6

Gretchen and Linda sat with their crowd, after the huge dinner. Several of the men had left to go get drinks in the bar, including Trace. When the lights began to dim and it was obvious the program was started, she looked around to see if he was on his way back to her side, but as the long Hawaiian chant began and dancers took to the stage, it became clear the men had decided to view the program from the back. She still couldn’t find any of them.

No one else seemed to notice.

One by one, the performers demonstrated different costumes and themes from the various lands of the South Pacific. She watched the all-male fire dancers who did indeed swallow lit torches and did acrobatics between flames, carrying wooden implements. It was a spectacular display and soon she forgot about the vacant seat next to her.

The stage was darkened, and then a gorgeous Polynesian dancer dressed in all white came out covered in flowers. Others spread petals all over the dance floor and kept time with the gentle sway of the most sensual hula she had ever seen.

An older heavy-set woman sat to the side, picked up a ukulele and began singing the beautiful Hawaiian wedding song. The dancer turned her beautiful body to the side, and welcomed her male partner, also dressed in white. It didn’t take Gretchen long to recognize Trace’s physique. His sandy wind-blown hair and bright smile was a welcome sight. He wore white long pants and a white shirt, unbuttoned. He was barefoot.

The audience clapped, recognizing that he’d been picked from the guests to dance with this lovely maiden. She undulated in front of him, and then at his side. Try as he might, he couldn’t keep up with her, but made a good effort. She drifted to his front and pulled his shirt back over his shoulders and dropped it on the stage, revealing Trace’s huge shoulders, his long muscular arms and the way his hips swung from side to side, which delighted the female part of the audience.

The dancer smiled demurely, moved herself in front of him and wrapped his arms around her as they inched first to the right and then to the left together. She pulled away and took one of the flowers from her hair and placed it behind his ear, kissing his cheek.

She demonstrated how fast her hips could swivel, something Trace could not duplicate, or even come close to doing.

Soon, Coop, Armando and a couple other SEALs appeared at the rear of the stage, all shirtless, all attempting to follow the beautiful apparition in white as she moved from man to man, teasing them.

Gretchen knew the normal men they chose from the audiences were overweight sunburned senior citizens, or guys who wouldn’t take their dark socks off. Tonight they were lucky to have some actual men of steel front and center, demonstrating hours of PT and training, most of them better developed than the male dancers in the review. Young girls ran up to the stage and threw their leis at the men, who allowed themselves to be “captured” by the flower lassos.

The older woman drew her song to an end as the beautiful dancer cuddled in Trace’s arms again to close the program. But instead of taking her in his arms, Trace jumped from the stage and came running through the aisle. Within seconds he appeared, hoisted Gretchen from her seat and carried her off down the beach.

Her heart was thumping as she watched the excited crowd over his shoulder. Cheers and clapping erupted and then faded as Trace carried her away into the shadows. He set her down slowly and then let her slide down his front side. She didn’t back away from him as he wrapped his arms around her waist, as she crossed her wrists behind his neck, and then ran her fingers through his hair.

“Thought you wouldn’t mind a little adventure. Thanks for being a good sport,” he whispered, and then he kissed her.

Her body was in flames at the touch of his mouth on hers, as he kissed down her neck and under her ear. She didn’t shy away as his groin pressed against her. But she had to whimper as his hand slipped under her blouse, smoothed over the small of her back, and then slid to her front side, where he slowly drew one hand up to cover her breast.

She needed air, gasping at his squeeze. He was watching her intently, and then kissed her just as her involuntary moan pierced the sounds of the sea when his thumb and forefinger pinched her nipple.

He pressed against her again, and this time she raised her leg, feeling his hip and muscled thigh against her own.

His beautiful chiseled body shone perfectly in the moonlight like a Greek statue. Her fingers splayed to travel the hardness of his mid section, up over his pecs and then back down again. His hand guided hers to his length, busting against the fabric of the white stretchy pants.

He slipped his palm under her sarong, feeling the length of her upper leg and then traveling to her butt, pulling her into him deeper. Her fingers lingered on the zipper of his pants as her pubic bone rode his thigh, cresting waves of pleasure all over her body.

He lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She tasted the saltiness of his chest, listened to his heartbeat and flicked her tongue over his nipple, which returned a satisfying groan back to her.

She was oblivious to everything else. The ocean waves cresting and breaking along the wet sand mimicked the beat of her heart. His breathing was ragged, his kisses desperately deep and getting harder. Somewhere there were thoughts about privacy and decorum, but she’d shed them, just as she now shed her skirt. He kneeled in front of her and took her panties down with his teeth, which made her whole body shake with need. His tongue found her slit, and she gasped, clutching him tighter, pulling her shirt up to release her breasts.

She lowered herself to her knees, tasting the sour saltiness of her own arousal on his lips and tongue. Her fingers felt for his zipper, which he’d already undone. Her knees hugged his hips as he leaned back. Their fingers laced together, guiding his cock to her opening and squeezing his penetration with a sigh coming from both of them. He held her hips and pressed her down on him so that he was deep, and she nearly passed out.

It had been years since she’d been desired, since she’d felt these flames she was now basking in. It had been too long, and now, she was quickly losing control, begging him to take her hard and without any hesitation. His thrusts she met with her own pressure, her internal muscles welcoming him to her womanhood, her kisses to his ears, eyes, and the top of his head as his teeth and tongue devoured and suckled her breasts.

She had no idea she had felt such emptiness, now filled with his glorious length. Aware that she was totally wanton, Gretchen asked for more. He flipped her body, gently laying her back on the wild grasses under the palm. He thrust deep and hard and she held him there, squeezing and pressing his groin into her. His hips moved fluidly, pumping her wildly as if testing how much she could take. All she knew was that she wanted more, had always needed more, and would need more than this quick little tryst in the moonlight dangerously stolen on this magical evening under the stars.

Years of loneliness withered away as their lovemaking turned her bones to rubber and opened up the deep chasm of her soul. Whoever he was, no matter what was to follow next, Trace had brought her from the dead to the living, showing her that it had all been worth it. It mattered not how long it lasted. She’d been found, touched by a man in ways she never knew possible.

She’d be powerless to stop it now. She would forever remain awakened.

Chapter 7

He was squeezing her hand so hard on their walk back to the venue, she had to remind him to release her fingers. But she smiled as she said it, and he told her he was sorry if he’d hurt her.

“Don’t want to let you go.”

“I like that,” she said.

Her thigh brushed against his as they approached their group. Her clip had been lost, and her blonde hair was everywhere about her shoulders, framing her pretty face, her flushed cheeks and plump lips he’d not had nearly enough time to explore. His breath had barely returned to normal, but his heartbeat was still rapid, matching her pulse. Her scent had charmed him, making him feel wild with need all over again. If she’d let him, he’d not let her sleep a minute of their time together.

Linda of course picked up on the change in their demeanor. He stood before her not hiding his guilt. The writer’s eyes glistened as she was nearly brought to tears. Gretchen leaned against him and he put his hands possessively on her upper arms, rubbing up and down, wishing he could feel her smooth skin under the blouse. His member was pressing already against her rear.

“Hey, your bride to be was left without a groom on stage, my man,” shouted Fredo when he saw him. “Don’t you know you’re not supposed to leave a woman at the altar?”

He didn’t care. They could rib him from now until the flight home. He was the happiest he’d been in two years at least.

“Where’s your shirt, Romeo?” Armando asked him. He too winked at Gretchen. “That was quite a performance, Trace. Way to make a lasting impression on your brothers.”

Trace realized he had to return the white pants and get back his own clothes and flip-flops. Gretchen was working with her hair and tucking it in to make an attractive French twist without her clip. Her cheeks were still pink.

“I have to get my stuff behind stage. Wait for me here,” he whispered.

Trace received praise from the pretty dancers who flirted with him, begging him to return tomorrow night He politely declined. He was handed his clothes in a big plastic bag and shown to the dressing room to change.

When Trace returned to the group, everyone had decided to retire to the bar area. He wrapped his arm around Gretchen’s shoulders and sat for a bit, enjoying the relaxed banter and laughter. More than once he was called out for his dancing skills.

“You should see Amornpan dance, Trace. Gunny left her the gym when he passed,” informed Fredo.

“Really?”

“Sanouk is their son. She teaches some of her Thai dancing at the teen center to some of the neighborhood girls. We got computer classes for these kids too. Working to keep them out of trouble. You’ll have to stop by so you can get involved.”

Trace had heard wonderful things about the project the men on Kyle’s team had done with the old Catholic school.

“Count me in.”

The group decided to call it an early night, so he and Gretchen went with several others in the van. The overcrowded condition made it necessary for her to sit on his lap, which he didn’t mind at all. Linda found one of the single guys to drive the Jeep back.

It became apparent the sleeping arrangements would not allow Trace and Gretchen to have any privacy.

“Maybe we can sneak off tomorrow night,” she whispered to him as she kissed him good night. “Thanks so much for sweeping me off my feet.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Gretchen.” He was at a loss for words.

“What is it, Trace?”

“I feel like I should apologize.”

“For what?”

“Well, coming on too strong. This isn’t who I am. I don’t want you to get a wrong impression of me.”

“You?” She stood before him with her hands on her hips. “What about my reputation?”

“Except you know you don’t have to apologize.”

“Good because I’m not going to. I didn’t do anything I didn’t want to, Trace.”

She sighed and Trace sent her upstairs with a kiss.

He found a game of cards had started in the living room, so he watched it deteriorate until no one could remember anything and the drink caught up to them all. One by one the company left, which gave Trace the chance to bring out his blankets and an extra pillow Libby had retrieved from one of the linen closets. He changed into his red, white and blue pajama bottoms, left his shirt off, and tried to find a comfortable position to fall asleep in. But his feet still hung over the end of the couch, and the ceiling fan was blowing down cold air. He got up to turn the fan off when he saw Gretchen’s form coming down the stairs.

“I can’t sleep. How about you?” she asked.

“Same here.” He looked at her sheer nightgown, which revealed just enough of her body to make her look sexy as hell. But he’d decided to slow things down a bit, to underscore what he’d said earlier. “You cold?”

“A little.” She was rubbing her arms.

Trace pulled one of the blankets over them both and took them outside onto the veranda. There was no view except the stars and the moon trying to shift from behind the large clouds that threatened an early morning rain.

“I got your stars here,” he whispered. Gretchen had tucked herself under his chin.

She didn’t say anything for a bit so he asked her for her thoughts.

“It’s like I’ve stepped back in time.”

He felt the same way. “Those were carefree days. But man, I was a crazy dumb kid, with no clue. Next thing I knew, I was in the Navy, puking my guts out at BUD/S, and then graduating one day and getting married the next. I guess I don’t do anything slow.”

“Do you slow dance?”

“I do.”

They started to move together to sounds of a distant singer calling to them. Her head felt warm against his bare chest. He loved the feel of her back and buttocks under the thin white fabric of her nightgown as his hand lazily traveled over the hills and valleys of this spectacular woman.

“Tell me about your husband. He was a basketball player?”

“Tony Sanders, Center for the Trailblazers.”

“Oh, that basketball player. He’s a hell of an athlete. How come a smart guy like him let you get away? That just doesn’t make any sense.”

“He was my first love. Maybe without all the traveling, it might have worked. But he liked to fool around. I didn’t believe it at first, and then I saw proof. You know what they say, the last to know. That was me.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that. My ex was the same way. That sort of behavior doesn’t appeal to me, although you’d never know it, based on tonight.” He squeezed her waist and pressed her to him as she giggled into his chest.

“Did we really do that? Do you suppose anyone saw us?”

“I know they didn’t.”

“How do you know that?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Well, honestly, I don’t, but I thought it sounded good.” He drew her away from him and searched her face. “Does it really matter?”

“No.”

He lifted her chin and kissed her. “I think it was perfect. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

She matched his kiss, her taught nipples searing his flesh beneath her nightie. He lifted the fabric and his fingers rubbed over the satin skin of her buttocks as she pressed her mound into his lower belly.

“Wish I had a king sized bed.”

“Me too.”

“But will the couch do, if I promise to make it up to you?”

“Do you keep all your promises?”

“Always, Gretchen. You’ll learn that in time.”

He felt her stiffen at the suggestion of an ongoing relationship. When he brushed the backs of his fingers against her cheek she softened when he whispered, “Or, we could just stay out here all night and watch the stars.”

“And you’ll keep me warm?”

“Baby, I’m going to make you so hot you’ll explode.”

Chapter 8

Trace awoke to the sounds of someone grinding coffee. She was naked and sweaty, lying on her side with her back to him. His arm was draped possessively over her hip, his hand gently squeezing her breast.

“Morning,” he whispered in her ear.

She slowly turned to face him, their legs entangling again, as she hugged his thigh between hers. “Morning handsome. I’m so grateful you showed me all those wonderful dance moves. The hip action, and the—”

She gasped as his fingers pinched her nipple and he pressed her onto her back and into the couch.

“You want some coffee?” he asked after he’d taken several deep kisses.

“I’d love some.”

He smirked, adjusted his muscled thighs and his other more delicate parts. Bending over, he slipped his pajama bottoms up over his hips and stood.

“Morning ladies.” He gave them a wave. Kate and Libby nearly jumped out of their skins.

“Were you comfortable last night, Trace?” asked Kate.

“Didn’t have enough room, but there were compensating factors.” He walked over to the countertop and poured a cup of black coffee. “Does she like cream in her coffee?” he whispered in Kate’s ear.

“Who?”

“Your beautiful sister.”

She broke out into a wide smile. “She does.” She cleared her throat while Trace foraged in the refrigerator. “Morning sis,” Kate shouted to the living room.

Gretchen answered, “Morning Kate,” from the couch.

When Trace saw her sit up, holding the blanket to her still bare chest, her peach complexion and dazed expression nearly took his breath away.

“I took advantage of her, I’m afraid, Kate,” he whispered as they both studied Gretchen’s face.

“I certainly hope so,” she quipped in return. “Either that or she’s coming down with a fever.”

Trace brought the coffee over to Gretchen, and then helped her slip the nightie over her head. She warmed herself with the steaming mug, took a sip and closed her eyes.

“Coffee’s good, ladies,” Trace reported.

Libby approached. “We’re about to have a whole room full of people here in just a few minutes. Why don’t you two take a shower before all the hot water is gone? The twins are not up yet, so now’s your chance, trust me.”

Trace helped Gretchen fold the blanket and placed it with the other one and the pillow in the hallway closet. They climbed the stairs together and found the sole bathroom door locked.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Linda said behind the door.

“Trace, you go downstairs and find a shower. I’ll wait until Linda’s done. I’ll meet you back down there for breakfast, okay?”

He reluctantly agreed.

A call from Gretchen’s oldest daughter interrupted their breakfast. Trace watched her worried expression turn into downright fear as she listened to Clover’s sobbing plea for help.

“Clover, calm down. What’s wrong?” Her cool demeanor flared into near panic as she listened to her daughter’s tale. He could not make out all the words until he caught her say, “three men showed up at the school while I was waiting after practice and they took me in a van.”

Kate flew to Gretchen’s side, holding the sleeping baby. The two sisters stared at each other in shock.

“Do they have all three of you?”

“No. Angela and Becky are with Gramma.”

Although Gretchen let out a sigh of relief, she was still very pale and Trace thought she might faint. Then he heard a man’s voice come on the line. Trace grabbed the phone from her hands. Gretchen fell into Kate’s arms and the baby awoke, startled.

“—And we have your oldest daughter. She is safe at the moment,” the man said in heavily accented Spanish, and if you cooperate, all will end well.”

“Who the fuck is this?” Trace asked the stranger.

“Ah, Senor, not necessary to use profanity. This only makes the Indians restless and we’re trying to conduct business here with Mrs. Sanders. You are her spokesperson?”

“Trace Bennett.”

“You are a friend of the family, Trace Bennett? Please put Mrs. Sanders back on the phone. With all due respect, senor.”

Everyone sitting at the large dining table had stopped eating and was staring at the three of them. Tyler took the baby from Kate. Trace covered the mouthpiece and informed them, “They have Gretchen’s daughter.”

The room erupted in soft curses. Cooper stood and placed a call, probably to Kyle, who was still in Washington, D.C. Others called home to check on the safety of their own children. He knew the Team network would be mobilized so that everyone was informed what had occurred, because Gretchen was indeed family.

“Senor? I would like to speak to Mrs. Sanders, please,” the voice repeated.

Gretchen extricated herself from Kate’s embrace and reached for the phone, trying to grab it from Trace’s fingers. He held it just out of reach. Finally she scolded him. “I need to talk to her, Trace. Give me it to me right now!”

He handed it over. His blood was boiling. On his feet, he started pacing, thinking, clenching and unclenching his fists. He was waiting for the cloud of emotions to subside and the clarity of a plan to emerge, but didn’t find any comfort or path. There were too many details he needed to find out. Coop had just finished his call and appeared beside him.

“We get that number and I’ll give it to my NSA contact, Trace,” he whispered.

Trace nodded. “Thanks, man.”

“Where are they?”

“I’m thinking Portland, but not sure.”

Gretchen was still listening to instructions. “H-how much of a little compensation is little?” Gretchen said bitterly, waiting for a response. “But I’m in Hawaii.” She was flustered, stammering. “I have to call my ex-husband. Where have you taken her?”

Trace gently held her arm, adjusting her wrist and hand to expose the phone number on the phone screen, showing it to Coop, then pushed “Speaker” so the whole room could hear the conversation. He double-checked with her, gave her a peck on the cheek, and she nodded her approval. Coop jotted a note and got back on his own phone.

The speaker crackled and squawked, “Like I said, Mrs. Sanders, she is safe and being watched over. She is being fed and given water, so no need to be concerned.”

Gretchen sucked in a breath and boomed right back at the man, “You fuckin’ better take very good care of my daughter you animal!”

Trace was astounded.

The voice on the other end of the phone sighed. “Mrs. Sanders, like I told your friend, the use of profanity is not necessary. It is not our intention to hurt your daughter, Mrs. Sanders. We are looking for just our little transaction fee, and then we will be out of your hair. Your beautiful daughter will be returned to you unharmed and untouched. I give you my word.”

Gretchen’s body tensed as several Team members and their wives swore under their breath and whispered amongst themselves. Trace could see already a plan was being formulated. The distance was a factor, but they were used to four plus hour flights to an op.

Coop whispered to Trace, “Okay, I’m having the phone number traced. You want Libby to get you and Gretchen to Portland? She’s checked and there’s a direct flight at noon you might be able to catch.”

“Thanks, I think that would be a good idea. I’ll pay you back.”

“Not a problem. We can tag along, too, if you want us to.”

“You got the ladies here, Coop. Not fair to have you do this.”

“No, Trace. You don’t understand. Maybe it was different on Team 8, but on this team we stick together. If you think we’re in the way, we’ll not do it. But I don’t think it’s asking or expecting too much. You’d do the same for me, I know you would.”

Trace nodded, and nodded a brief smile to Libby, who got on her cell phone immediately.

Gretchen’s voice was getting shaky and Trace could tell her emotions were confusing her. “I asked you before, how much? How much for my daughter?”

The voice paused. “One million dollars.”

It might as well have been ten million. Trace suspected this would be an impossible figure to come up with. The room was once again filled with whispered profanity. Gretchen’s breathing was irregular, her chest shaking with each inhale and exhale. He helped her put the phone down on the table, and then folded her in his arms while they listened to the sole voice on the other end of the line.

“I will give you one more chance to speak with your daughter and then we will sign off for now. No tricks, please, Mrs. Sanders. You must keep the girl calm so I don’t have to sedate her.”

Gretchen leaned over the table and shouted into the phone’s speaker, “Don’t you fuckin’ touch a hair on her body! Let me speak to my daughter now!” She braced her body with her palms on the table, took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Just as she was about done with her exhale, she heard her daughter’s voice.

“Mom?” Clover’s weak voice broke Trace’s heart. “I’m scared.”

“Did they hurt you, sweetie?” she asked.

“No. But they’re creepy.” Clover sobbed and then sniffled. In a whisper, she said, “Mom, I’m in my spandex.” Her voice trailed off.

Trace didn’t understand at first what she was saying.

“Didn’t you bring your warm-up suit?”

“Just the jacket, and it’s cold in here.”

Gretchen was holding herself together now. “I know sweetie. Ask them for a blanket or something to wrap around your legs. You have to stay warm.”

“When are you coming to get me?”

It was the question that hung in the air that nobody had an answer for.

“As soon as I can. I have to get hold of your dad. Have they tried calling him?”

“Yes. He doesn’t pick up.”

Gretchen gritted her teeth. “How did this happen, Clover?”

“I was waiting for Joanie. She was late. Everyone just left me, Mom.” She wavered and soon began to sob again. “I’m scared Mom.”

The phone made muffled sounds and then the strange voice came on the line again. “So this is how it’s going to happen,” he began.

Gretchen interrupted him. “No, you don’t understand. I can’t do anything until I get in touch with Clover’s father. He’s the one in town, and he’s the only one who can arrange the money. So you’re going to have to wait. I’m just telling the truth of how it is. I wish it was different, but you’re going to have to give us some time to get this figured out.”

Trace noticed she got stronger the longer she spoke.

“I do understand, Mrs. Sanders. I’m willing to be flexible, within reason. But don’t take too long.”

“You need to keep calling him. And I think Clover has his girlfriend’s number with her somewhere too.”

“Okay. I am a very patient man, Mrs. Sanders. We will continue to try getting through to him, and we will call you back.”

“I’m going to take the first flight home.” She looked at Libby who nodded her head, yes. But I’ll have my friends keep trying Tony as well.”

“Very well. One other thing, you are not to involve the police. Trust me when I say that things will not go well for your lovely daughter, Clover. Such a special child. It would be a shame—”

Trace had the urge to grab the phone from Gretchen again to give the guy a piece of his mind, but Gretchen beat him to it.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with. Like I said before, you harm one hair on her body and if it’s the last thing I do, if it takes my whole life, I’ll find you and your little cadre of demons and I will personally excise you from this planet. That’s not a threat. That’s a fact!” Gretchen’s face was red with anger.

The gentleman on the phone laughed softly. But then they could hear Clover’s outburst in the background, echoing in a large space, like a warehouse or hangar, “Don’t touch me!”

The voice continued. “I can see where she gets her spirit. I hope, for her sake, it is not in vain. We’ll be in touch.”

The phone went dead.

Chapter 9

The women came over to help Gretchen take a place on the couch. Someone brought her a tall glass of ice water. Several hands lifted her legs and massaged her feet while Kate massaged her shoulders and neck. Although it felt heavenly, part of the closeness was beginning to feel oppressive. Gretchen wanted to scream, tear something up, get a sledgehammer and make holes in the wall, cut all her hair off and put on war paint. She was furious with Joanie, her ex, and even more furious with herself for even agreeing to leave the girls alone with such irresponsible people. She knew better. She feared this could happen, and she’d been right.

It was the last time she’d not trust her intuition. The sweet look Clover gave her as she stepped into Joanie’s car might be the last time she saw her lovely daughter. She leaned forward over her knees, covered her face with her hands and sobbed.

“Shhh. Shhh, Gretchen. Don’t despair yet, sweetie, but I sure know how you feel.” Kate was pulling her hair from her neck, rubbing the top of her spine and soothing her with reassurances.

“Just goes to show you big boobs and brains don’t go together!”

Most of the group laughed. Trace shared a cautious smile with Coop. Kate hugged her from behind. “That’s my big sister. You’ll have the chance to tell her so, and I’ll be right there to be your second in case you want to take a punch at her.”

“You’d think Tony would have more of a clue than to leave picking up our daughter to such an airhead. She was probably having her nails done.”

“Or getting a spray on tan. She lives in Portland, remember?” answered Kate.

Trace knelt at her side, kissing her palms and then placing his hands tenderly at the sides of her face. “Baby, Libby is making the arrangements now to get you home. I’m going to go with you to see if I can help out somehow.”

“Thank you, Trace, but that’s not necessary.”

Cooper piped up. “Gretchen, you’re not going to let your ex and his girlfriend orchestrate a payoff, and return of Clover. And we have to involve the police.”

“No!”

“Honey, you need them,” interrupted Trace. “They have training and experience with these things.”

“I don’t trust them with the life of my daughter.” She scanned the group of people assembled around her. “But thank you all. So grateful for your support.”

“Not enough, Gretchen,” said Kate sternly. You have to let these guys do what they do all the time. They want to come. Let us help you, Gretchen. Think about Clover.”

That turned her stomach and she melted again into a series of sobs. Trace pulled her over towards him, while he slipped onto the couch.

“Let it all out, Gretchen. Believe me, there’s no fuckin’ way we’re going to let anything happen to Clover. We’re going to need a little more information, so we’ll coach you for your next call with these guys. But let us help figure out where she is and see if we can get her safely returned. We’ve already started the process. I promise we’ll do everything in our power to bring her back to you.”

Gretchen took strength from his steel blue eyes, so steady and unwavering. He wore his conviction in his face. As she looked up at Coop, Fredo and several of the other SEALs they bore the same expression.

“Let us help you, Gretchen,” Coop asked again. “Libby’s found some tickets for a non-stop direct to Portland. Tyler and Ollie and the others will stay behind with the women. But we’re your army, little sister. The four of us.”

“I’m older than you are Coop.”

“Good. Then it’s settled. We’re going!” Coop grinned, patting the top of her head.

She barely had time to say anything further before she heard him bark some orders. “Okay gents, let’s get to packing.”

Gretchen suddenly realized she hadn’t called her parents. “I’ve got to call mom,” she said as she looked at Kate.

“Do it.”

Her dad picked the phone up. “Sweetie! Oh God, Gretchen, it’s all over the news. Have you heard from Clover?”

So much for keeping it private, Gretchen thought.

“How did the news get it?” she asked.

“Tony did an interview at the arena. He begged for them to return his daughter. You know Tony—”

“Well that’s just great because they asked that no one contact the police. Leave it to Tony to screw things up.” She squeezed Trace’s hand. “Dad, we’re coming to Portland, catching a flight out of Lihue at noon. Can I talk to the girls?”

“You Mom took them to the store for a little distraction. They’ll be back soon.”

“Tell them I’m coming home. And that I love them. Thank God you have them. And give mom a hug.”

“Will do, honey. Anything else you want us to do now? Are they asking for money? Have you been able to talk to Clover? She must be scared out of her mind.”

“She’s holding up. She’s a tough kid. And she knows I’m coming. I’m bringing some reinforcements. Some of Tyler’s buddies are flying home with me.”

“Thank God. That’s what we need is a bunch of Navy SEALs right now. Well, you let us know what the plan is, and we’ll do whatever. You need money, we’ll try to raise some cash.”

“No. Don’t do anything yet. But if the police contact you, I need a name, okay?”

“You got it, kid. Have a safe flight home. Your mother will be relieved we heard from you.”

Kate leaned over Gretchen’s shoulder and called out, “Hi Dad. Love you. We’ll see you in a few days.”

Gretchen disconnected the call and sat there staring at the empty dial while the beehive of activity was happening all around her.

Trace lay her back on the couch—the same one that she’d slept with him all night long, and, just like this morning’s early miracle hours, his tender kisses left her gasping for air. She wished she could wake up and find that this had all been a very bad dream.

“Stay here for a minute or two. Just close your eyes, and then we’ll get you sorted and we’ll be on our way, okay?” Trace said with a pat to her head and a tender kiss.

She nodded. But then the sounds of Clover’s terrified voice echoed in her ears and her eyes filled with tears. Before she could wipe them free, Trace was there, kissing her, rubbing her cheeks with his thumbs, whispering for her not to worry.

He stood. She took one long look at this tall hero with hands the size of basketballs—and she knew about those—but with a heart full of passion, showing no fear, only total devotion to the mission at hand. That was when she began to hope that perhaps, if anyone could help her, Trace and his friends could.

She finally reached Joanie at the Lihue airport while she was standing in line for security.

“Oh God, Gretchen I’m so sorry. Tony and I feel so awful,” the bombshell blathered. The more she talked and angrier Gretchen felt.

“Save it. Where the hell is Tony?”

“He’s at practice. You know he can’t miss practice.”

“His daughter has been kidnapped for Christ sakes!”

“Yes, yes, they called us. Tony made a plea on TV for her safe return. The police said it was best to get it out there to the general public.”

Gretchen wanted to reach through the phone and strangle her. “Didn’t they tell you not to involve the police?”

“I—I don’t know. He talked to them. But apparently some reporters were there at the gym when he got the call. Coach said to take it out on the court, so he made his statement and after he’s going down to the police station. Are you coming home or staying in Hawaii. Tony didn’t—”

“Geez, Joanie. What kind of a mother do you think I am? We’re at the airport.” She felt Trace’s firm hand on the back of her neck, massaging her, bringing her energy and letting her feel the closeness and warmth of his body standing like a rock behind her. She saw some of the other passengers look her way and knew from their reaction that Trace had stared them down. She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry. Just worried. How did this happen, Joanie?”

“I had a small accident on the way over to the school. I didn’t have Clover’s cell phone number. Stupid, I know.”

Gretchen realized that Clover probably still had her cell with her. She turned to face Trace and let him know, but was ushered to the Homeland Security Inspector. She put her phone to her shoulder and rummaged for her ticket and her license.

“Turn off your phone, ma’am,” the Inspector commanded.

“I’ve got to go, Joanie. Have Tony call me. I’ll be boarding in a little over an hour.”

“Yes, yes. No problem. I’ll get him to call as soon as I can.”

“Cell phone off!” barked another homeland agent just as she put the phone away. Trace showed his license and ticket and waited for Gretchen to find hers. They made their way through the scanning. Gretchen had to go back a second time because she had left her cell in her pocket.

Finally at the gate, she sat and let out a big sigh. Trace was quick to cover her shoulders with his long arm. His fingers laced along her scalp above her ear, pressing her face to his chest as he continued to rub. The feel of his strength, the steadiness of his hands and the sound of his deep breathing was all she could think about.

They boarded the plane and soon were off into the big blue skies above the Pacific Ocean, Hawaiian music playing in the background. On any other day, she would have welcomed it, but today, the music sounded mocking and dangerous. The vacation had turned into her greatest nightmare.

“Sleep, Gretchen. That’s all you can do right now. Save your strength for when we land, honey. I’m right here.” Trace’s soothing words helped. He adjusted her seat back to match his, and she fell asleep against his muscled arm, holding his left hand between hers.

Chapter 10

As soon as the plane landed, several of the Team’s cell phones rang. Gretchen’s did as well. Trace noted the number as being the kidnapper when she showed him the dial.

“Let it go to voicemail until we have some privacy.”

Gretchen agreed and turned off the ring. When she checked back, no voicemail had been left.

Gretchen’s SUV was parked in long-term parking and the four SEALs loaded the suitcases while Trace took charge of driving. Gretchen sat shotgun up front. Trace noticed Fredo hadn’t changed his blue Hawaiian shirt.

“What?” Fredo was giving Trace a dose of attitude.

“Well, you’re right about one thing,” inserted Coop. “We should still be on vacation. But hell if I don’t actually get excited now that we’ve got something to do.”

Trace considered Coop’s comments, and he also began to enjoy the pulse of a Brotherhood op coming up. The wrinkle and complication was that it involved someone he cared about very much. But then, he always cared about the people he was trying to rescue. It was not usually in the good old US of A.

Armando leaned over the seat as Trace exited the parking lot toward the freeway. “Your dad have any guns, Gretchen? Big guns?”

“My parents were hippies, Armando. Sorry, no guns, but I have a .38” she returned.

Trace nodded and gave her a wink. “You know how to use it?”

“I took a class, and had some practice. Dad insisted.”

“He sounds like a good man. Every woman should know how to shoot.”

“We’ll have to make do with what we’ve got, then,” Armando sighed.

“I’ve got the cell phone data. Registered to a Casa de Flores.” Coop said as he examined his notebook.

“Never heard of it,” said Gretchen.

“We can’t find an address with that business listing either.”

“Oh, one other thing, we have a locator on Clover’s cell phone. Didn’t think about it until we were boarding. And then I forgot. I’m so sorry.” Gretchen frowned.

“Not a problem. Write her number down,” Coop said as he handed her a small spiral notebook.

Trace decided to reveal he had packed a sidearm.

“We all do, Trace,” answered Fredo. I never go anywhere, even on vacation, without some protection.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to use them. But at least we have something,” mumbled Armando.

They arrived at Gretchen’s home, on a hillside overlooking the Willamette River, and the lower districts bordering the Columbia River beyond. Rain was threatening, and the late afternoon was quickly evaporating.

They parked around the rear of the two-story structure and Gretchen showed them in through the kitchen. With the suitcases brought into the living room, Gretchen got to work making some sandwiches and heating up some soup she had in the pantry.

“Should I attempt to call them back?” she asked as she brought over a plate of fruit.

“Trust me, for a million bucks, they’ll call,” said Armando.

“I’d try to call. Let them know you’re back in town,” offered Trace. “And try your ex again. See what the updates are, if any.”

“Good idea,” Coop agreed, with his phone to his ear.

“And I’m texting Kate now to let her know we’re here. She can let my folks know.”

Then Gretchen tried to redial the number the stranger had called from and it came up with a disconnect. “No luck there.”

“So, let’s discuss what we know,” said Trace. Gretchen sat next to him, texting her sister.

Coop was walking toward the hallway, talking to his contact.

“She’s in a warehouse type structure,” said Armando.

“It’s cold. Probably no heat in the building. We got a business like a wholesale florist I’m guessing from the name,” added Fredo.

“I’m wondering how they knew where she’d be,” added Gretchen.

“They’ve been following them? Following the girls?” asked Trace.

“You know, something must have given them the idea. I’m guessing this isn’t a big operation, more like the crime of opportunity,” Armando added.

“Maybe they thought they’d get Gretchen as well. Perhaps they got lucky when Clover was left all alone? That type of thing Armando?”

His Team brother shrugged. “Maybe. Just speculation. But I’m thinking something planted the idea this would be a good idea.”

“You check your messages for anything from the police, Gretchen?” Trace asked her.

She ran to the kitchen and pushed the replay on the answering machine and wrote down the detective’s name who left her a message some three hours ago. “I’m going to call him right now.”

Before she could do so, her cell rang. She held up the screen, showing the SEALs it was the same number.

“Mrs. Sanders. You are back in Oregon now?”

“Yes.” She pushed speakerphone so they could all hear.

“Good. So we have spoken to your husband.”

“Ex.”

“Ex-husband then. And he has indicated he will be working on raising the necessary cash. I suggest you coordinate with him. But he has violated one of my rules about the police and the press.”

“Yes, I just found out about that. We have not been able to talk.”

“This is what he says. I am not happy. So, I have raised the bar to one million five hundred thousand dollars. This is non-negotiable.”

Gretchen gasped, but Cooper moved his palms in a level single plane, motioning her to be calm. Trace saw her stuff down her anger and her growing fear.

“Y-yes. I’m listening.”

Good girl, Gretchen, Trace thought.

“He gave permission for you to bring the money to the designated drop off spot.”

Gretchen rolled her eyes and stared back at him. Trace shrugged and motioned for her to continue the dialog.

Cooper held up his notebook, on which he had written, ask to talk to Clover again.

“Okay, we’ll work that out. But I want to talk to Clover again to make sure she’s okay.”

“I will give you exactly one minute when I’m done. So, tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock, I will call you back and you will bring the money to the spot I’ll designate. You’ll only have a few minutes to get there. Are you less than thirty minutes to Clover’s school?”

“Yes.”

“The drop won’t be there, but I will leave further instructions for you at the school.”

“H-how will I know?” Gretchen asked.

“It will be explained tomorrow. Now, you would like to speak with Clover?”

“Yes, please.”

They all heard the teen’s fragile voice start in with the same refrain she’d had earlier, “Mom, when are you coming to get me?”

“Soon, baby.” She looked at Coop for further instructions since he was writing furiously in his notebook. Gretchen read it over quickly and then repeated the instructions he’d written. “Did it take more than a few minutes before they arrived at where they’re holding you?”

The sound of the phone dropping gave Trace the chills.

“Mrs. Sanders, you were told not to make tricks with me. I am going to be very angry if you don’t behave. It’s going to be a long evening. You don’t want me anywhere near your daughter when I get angry.”

“I’m sorry. I just—”

“Your full compliance is required, Mrs. Sanders.”

The last sentence was drowned out by the sounds of a locomotive blast in the background, and then what appeared to be a rumbling echo as the train was accelerating. All the SEALs stood straight and took notice.

“No more tricks. Tomorrow at eleven then.”

“Sir, please, may I—?”

But the phone had already gone dead.

“We need a Portland map of the rail lines. You have something like that here, Gretchen?” asked Coop.

“No, but I can get it online.” She pulled out her laptop from her carry-on bags and began the internet search. Finding the page she wanted, she turned the computer to face Coop and Trace, who studied it side-by-side.

“Wish we had Tyler today. He grew up here in Portland,” muttered Fredo.

“I think we have what we need,” said Trace. “Look. There’s a station house, and it’s a hub. We’ve got what appears to be about four sets of tracks all parallel there. The only other one I see is downtown Portland.” Trace stood up. “Wouldn’t we have heard cars and activity?”

“Good thinking. So, Gretchen, what is this area here called?” asked Coop.

“We just call it the warehouse waterfront district. Used to be the cheapest loft rentals in the city, but now it’s gotten trendy. Still, many of those buildings are abandoned,” she answered.

“Is it close to the school?” Trace asked.

“Very close. Yes.”

Coop’s phone rang, and, after a brief discussion, he ended his call with a, “Thanks buddy, I owe you one again.” He smiled to his audience. “Okay he gave me coordinates that said between the river and Brickyard. North is the Pallatine Bridge and south the entrance to the 305 freeway. He said that was about a ten block radius.”

“Brickyard is right here,” Gretchen pointed out the labeled street. “And the rails run right through the first third of that square you just gave me. All the new upscale lofts are along the river, so I’d guess they’d be somewhere around here.”

Trace was starting to feel hopeful. “Good job, sweetheart. You know that area at all.”

“Lots of homeless shelters. Some rescue missions and a couple brewery houses. The whole place is undergoing massive renovation so there are construction projects all over. Closed streets. It’s a mess getting through there.”

“But we didn’t hear any construction, either. Just the trains,” said Trace.

“That’s the part I don’t like to go. Sometimes the church youth group would help out serving Thanksgiving Dinner down there, but as a big group. Not a place to go to at night by yourself.”

“And that’s why you’re not going by yourself.” Trace could tell Coop was also feeling hopeful. “Good deal. I can live with that. How many buildings are in that area?”

Gretchen sat down again and put her palm to her forehead. “Tons.”

“Explain what you mean by tons,” said Fredo.

She stared at her hands neatly folded on the tabletop. “I’m going to guess and say more than a hundred. At least.”

Chapter 11

Tony Sanders called her about the same time as the police showed up at her door.

“Hey, Gretchen. I just want to tell you Joanie is real sorry about all this.”

“I’m beyond that, Tony. They say they want the money tomorrow. And they’ve upped their price to a million five,” she told him flatly. She was surprised at her control. But the last thing she wanted to do was show Tony how scared and helpless she felt, even with the SEALs helping her.

The police were questioning the men on Trace’s team, but looking in her direction.

“Tony, the police just arrived.”

“They’ll accompany you and give you a vest to wear.”

“A vest? You volunteered to send me out there with a vest?” She felt her blood pressure rise. “Did it ever occur to you I might be the next victim here?”

“Don’t get all crazy on me, Gretchen. What the hell was I supposed to do? Not like he gave me much choice.”

“Well, if Joanie had been on time, none of this would have happened!”

“Oh yeah? Well perhaps she would have been taken hostage as well. Did you for once ever think about anyone but yourself?”

Gretchen was livid. “You complete asshole. You are a worthless human being. A worthless husband and less than worthless father. You don’t even deserve to have the company of those three beautiful girls, and if I have my way, you’ll be not spending any time with them soon.”

She knew it was wrong, but the pressure of the events had set her off. His lazy attitude added fuel to the fire.

“Okay big shot. I’m going to bring you one million five hundred thousand dollars in cash tomorrow after the banks open. Let’s see how well you do suing me for custody. I think you’re a reckless mother to go off on an island vacation, screwing who knows how many guys, leaving your daughters behind. Angela is only four!”

“And she doesn’t like spending any time with you already. And I was with Kate and Tyler and their friends. ”

“At an orgy house, I hear.”

She was going to object, but she saw Trace and a detective walk toward her. She’d gone way over the top and now had dug herself a big hole.

“I’m not sure where you get your facts, Tony, but as usual, you’re completely wrong.”

“Check the morning paper, Gretchen. Mother of kidnapped daughter on romantic Tropical Tryst in Hawaii.”

Her face got bright red.

The detective extended his hand. “Let me talk to him.”

Gretchen agreed to comply. Trace kept his distance, which was a good thing. Right now she didn’t want anyone’s hug. She was looking for the sledgehammer in her fantasy life.

The detective introduced himself and then gave Tony a sage piece of advice. “Son, luckily I don’t have to do a lot of these types of things on a daily basis, but I’ll tell you what. It makes no sense to accuse and abuse those around you who are only trying to help. I think you need to keep your mouth shut, and that goes for any more television interviews.”

The detective listened to Tony give some explanation.

“Yeah, well, you let the coach do his job with the Trailblazers and their organization. We’re trying to save your daughter’s life and that’s a whole other thing. Now, if they contact you again, you let me know. You have my card.”

He listened to Tony again, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Gretchen liked the detective immediately.

“Well that’s fine son, but these leaks to the paper are not going to do your girls any good when they go back to school. Just think about it. For their sake, keep your fuckin’ mouth shut.”

Without allowing Tony to give more excuses, the detective hung up the phone and handed it back to Gretchen. He warily looked at the four SEALs standing in front of him.

“I’ve got a hunch none of you is going to get much sleep tonight. We’ll patrol the warehouse area there where you think they are holding her, but we don’t do anything until tomorrow morning, understood?”

Gretchen knew the SEALs were lying when they shook their heads yes. He addressed Gretchen. “You need to get some sleep mother. Tomorrow is going to be a very big day. I’ll post a guard to patrol your neighborhood. We’ll be in touch if we get any breaking developments, and I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. Focus on your daughter. Try to think about how she’s feeling tonight, all alone, stuck with a bunch of strangers. Let’s not do anything to jeopardize our success tomorrow.”

“Thank you, detective,” Gretchen whispered.

He started for the door and then stopped. “I have to say this one more thing, sweetheart. Everyone in town knows who your husband is. You can tell him after the fact that he’s the reason they went after her. He’s the goose that laid the golden egg. So, let him do his job and you don’t speak to him anymore unless you got one of your boyfriends here to chaperone. Am I getting through?”

“They’re not my boyfriends.” She saw Trace bite his lip. “Only one is. But that’s sage advice, detective. Thanks for your time. I’ll let you know if they make further contact.”

She accepted his card, and then shook his hand, and again he headed for the doorway. He gave the SEALs a long conspiratorial look.

Gretchen suspected he understood just what they were going to do tonight. Tomorrow was indeed going to be a very big day.

Chapter 12

Trace knew the lack of specialized equipment was a severe handicap. But their experience and training was far superior to anything else on the planet, and in that he had complete confidence. They hadn’t had the time to rehearse over and over again, sometimes re-creating their mission over a hundred times before they set out. But they had intuition. It wouldn’t be the first time they were in an unfamiliar town, going after people they’d never seen or met before. But without firepower, specialty explosive charges Fredo was legendary for creating, it was like doing an op blindfolded.

But their odds were still better than most.

Then there was the raw truth that all four of the SEALs were pumped up and ready to go, without having a moment’s hesitation to risk their lives to save Clover. And maybe it was a good thing all they had were their sidearms. They were not supposed to interfere with local law enforcement. They were officially supposed to defer to them. They weren’t even allowed to use their guns except in cases of self-defense, and then only on rare occasions.

But there was no doubt about it. This was a snatch and grab mission, without their gear. He hoped the bad guys were not very well trained or armed. Then the odds would be hugely in the SEALs’ favor.

The evening had come full upon them, and he noted the stars looks lackluster compared to the bright twinkling orbs in Hawaii. He vowed to take Gretchen and her daughters back there, if he were given the chance. He hoped he had that chance.

He also hoped he was given the chance to meet Gretchen’s ex, and give him a lecture to let him know what a douchbag he thought the man was. But all that could be accomplished after they had success. And if they didn’t, then all bets were off.

Coop directed him where to drive. Gretchen had insisted on coming with them and talked over his shoulder, pointing out places she knew.

Coop angled his face and cleared his throat. “I’m going to ask you to call your daughter’s cell phone. They might not have turned it off, since we got a good triangulation out of the signal. But, they could destroy the phone if they get wind of what we’re trying to do.”

“Wouldn’t my location finder help?” She’d brought her laptop. “Can’t I just look it up on here?”

“You can ask the phone company to ping it,” said Armando.

“We don’t have the equipment to pick it up. But sure, go ahead and try.”

Gretchen directed Trace to stop in front of one of the missions, thinking they might have internet.

“Nope. No signal. Any one of you have a hot spot?”

None of the SEALs did.

She directed him to drive in front of a coffee house down the street where she was able to log into their WIFI, which was strong enough to use while she was seated in the car. The red dot located an intersection, but then moved around and targeted another intersection. Then another. Trace tried to head in the general direction of the signal, but at last stopped.

“They put this on a dog or something?” Fredo asked.

“I think that’s exactly what they did. Or in someone’s backpack. Damn. This isn’t going to help,” Cooper muttered.

They watched as the red locator moved briefly outside the box that had been created with the triangulation. And then it strangely moved back inside.

“I think we should follow it. Check it out,” said Trace.

Coop shrugged. “Everyone keep an eye out for Casa de Flora. They may not know we have that name.”

The streets were in shadow. Half the lights had been broken. Pieces of broken glass littered the sidewalks and shone in the moonlight like diamonds. Flocks of ashen-colored people in baggy clothes were huddled over trash barrels set ablaze to keep them warm. They passed several rescue missions, most of them with lines going down the street.

Gretchen offered an explanation as Trace turned the corner, the headlights scanning the shabby crowd. “They take only a certain number each night. Most of them sleep in the meeting rooms, or the sanctuary, on cots or the church pews. And these are the lucky ones.”

“It’s a shame. Reminds me of our project in San Diego, right, Fredo? But this looks worse. No families,” said Armando.

“Oh they’re here, but they wouldn’t dare go outside now,” answered Gretchen. “This is a very dangerous area, constantly involved in turf wars. Clover might have even been here a time or two with her youth group. But not at night. Never at night.”

“She’s a good kid, Gretchen. You did well.” Armando smiled. Trace watched in the rear view mirror as Gretchen couldn’t help but blush at his good looks, even in the evening shadows.

He aimed toward the red dot again, which had temporarily stopped in one place. Coming into view were the bright lights of a liquor store, so they waited outside with the car running. Some teens were smoking cigarettes just outside the door, when a young lanky youth exited the store, and joined them.

“That’s Clover’s backpack!” exclaimed Gretchen.

Trace focused on the newcomer. As the group ambled down the street, under the light of a streetlamp he could see that the backpack was black and red, with the distinctive hurricane logo of the Portland Trail Blazers. Dangling from one of the zipper pockets was a small pink teddy bear.

“You stay here, Gretchen, and keep the doors locked,” Trace said as he shut the motor down and they moved away from the SUV in pairs.

Fredo and Armando came at the group from the right, to their rear and Trace and Cooper walked straight toward the boys. About ten feet before confrontation, Cooper spoke up.

“You guys know where I can score a little weed, man?”

As one of the taller boys delved into his own black backpack, Trace saw Armando and Fredo rip Clover’s backpack from the kid, sending him on his knees. The crowd turned and were greeted with a couple of SigSauers.

“We want no trouble. Just want the backpack and your friend, here,” Armando said. He walked up to the youth, yanked on his shirt collar and stood him up on his feet. The group was about to run when they were stopped by Cooper and Trace, also showing firearms. The kids disappeared into the streets, scattering all over the place.

They dragged their prey back to the SUV, and slammed him up against it. Armando checked his pockets carefully and spilled his contents of pills, bags of powder and some loose weed all over the street. The kid swore but was given a swift kick to his butt.

Trace examined the contents of the backpack and in addition to more drugs found a book, a binder and some loose papers, a zipper bag of pencils, some deodorant and chap stick as well as a change of girl’s underwear. He also found a half-eaten energy bar. Crusty with sticky flakes from the opened bar, Trace found Clover’s cell phone at the very bottom, and turned it back on.

“So where did you get this?” Fredo asked the kid, holding up the backpack.

“In a dumpster.”

“Show me.” Fredo pushed him toward the street.

The youth started to run, but Cooper easily caught up and tackled him, sending his face to the pavement.

“You wanna play hide and seek? I like playing that game, except you’re gonna get all messed up. And oh wow. Look at that. You’ve got a bloody nose.”

The boy cursed.

“So you gonna show us this time?” Fredo repeated.

Armando stood him up again by hoisting his collar, and the boy scanned the faces of the four SEALs. At last, he nodded.

They asked Gretchen to move to the third seat, while Armando and Fredo babysat the boy in the second seat. He turned around briefly, taking note of Gretchen. Then he pointed and Trace followed directions.

“So you meet the people who left this behind, son?” Coop asked him.

He shook his head.

“Did you see the people who dumped this backpack?”

Again he shook his head.

They stopped at a large green dumpster outside a brick two store warehouse building. Armando held the boy while Fredo jumped into the dumpster and then began to sneeze. “Dammit. Flowers in here. I’m fuckin’ going to be sneezing all night with my allergies,” grumbled Fredo. He sneezed several more times and swore in between.

Coop chuckled. “I think he can go,” he said to Armando.

The kid ran into the night.

Trace scrambled to the front of the building and saw the letters on a glass door, “Casa de Flora.” Inside, it looked like a clean little flower shop with refrigerators containing bunches of bouquets and flowers in white metal cones. He went back and reported to the others.

Armando returned from the other side, breathing heavily. “There’s a roll up door to the warehouse on the other side, and another side door about ten feet in front. No door on the rear. The rollup isn’t padlocked but the side door is locked.”

“Fredo, can you pick the front door lock first?” asked Coop.

“No tools, Coop. But wait a minute!” He hopped back into the dumpster and the sneezing began. He climbed out clutching a bundle of discarded florist’s wire. “I can use this, I think. Be right back.”

“Trace, you go let Gretchen know what’s happening. Tell her to stay inside the SUV again, but keep her head down.”

As Coop discussed several of their options, Trace tapped on the window and Gretchen leaned over the rear seat, opening the driver side rear door. “We’re about to breach the building. You stay put, and keep it locked. The keys are still in the ignition, okay?”

“Do we know it’s them?”

“I think so, sweetheart. The name of the flower shop matches the cell phone record Coop got from the NSA. So, we’re treating this as a go. We’ll split up. Anything goes wrong, you call 9-1-1 immediately, okay?”

“What about the detective?”

“Call him second. 9-1-1 gets the paramedics and a shitpile of others.”

She took in a deep breath. “Trace, thank you so much. I—”

His name was being whispered, so he had to cut her off with a swift kiss, pointed to the lock and joined Armando at the rollup. Coop headed up front to join Fredo, who had already entered the flower shop. Their watches had been set, and on the mark, Trace pulled back the latch as Armando threw his full weight into raising the metal accordion material. Trace immediately grabbed the other side and together they got the door fully raised in less than thirty seconds.

Prepared for firepower, they each rolled into the shadows, Armando on the right and Trace on the left. They heard the rattle of a semi-automatic of low caliber, sounding more like a child’s toy. Trace fell into some water and realized he’d encountered a shallow tray holding dozens of pot plants, each covered with large sacks of burlap. The distinctive skunky smell of growing marijuana made his nose itch.

Fredo and Coop joined him, but before could warn his buddy, Fredo erupted into a spasm of uncontrollable sneezes that nearly sent him to the ground. They could still hear voices on the other side of a partition built that spanned the two brick outer walls.

“Anyone have a match?” Armando whispered?

Between his convulsions, Fredo managed to find a set of waterproof matches in a pocket and handed them over.

“This fertilizer is highly flammable.” He’d removed the fist-sized rubber lid. “We gotta roll this closer.”

Trace helped him tip the barrel on its side, centering it on the door. Liquid fertilizer was leaking all over the room.

“Try not to get that on your clothes or you’ll catch fire, Trace. If you have to, dive into the trays.”

“Wait, what about Clover?” he asked, pointing to the doorway.

“She’d be against a wall, not a doorway. This gives us a way in.”

“Gotcha.”

“Take cover on the count of three. The explosion might take down part of the roof too, so watch your head.” Armando didn’t wait for Trace’s acknowledgement, struck the match and tossed it into the open mouth of the now leaking barrel and they both ran to opposite sides of the building as fast as they could.

The explosion did indeed take out the doorway. In fact, there was nothing left of it. The blast had extended to the ceiling and had ignited the cross bracing on the domed roof. They could hear screaming inside the space, as well as broken glass shattering all around them.

All four of the SEALs ran through the flames. Trace was glad his clothes had gotten soaked. They spread out. Several times Trace stepped over bodies, examining them carefully, hoping not to find Clover among them. He heard sounds of a struggle here and there as other members of his team immobilized several of the surprised and severely injured kidnappers. But the more seconds ticked by, the more worried he got. His eyes were stinging, and he recognized the signs he’d inhaled too much of the toxic smoke.

Finally he heard something that made his day.

“I said get your hands off me, you cretin!”

Clover had evidently delivered a blow to someone who had tried to handle her, and she’d managed to send him crashing to the ground with a groan.

“Mom? Mom are you there?”

Trace slammed into her. He wrapped his arms around her, though she struggled. She kneed his groin and tried to pick out his eyes with her fingers. He was so busy trying to drag her to safety, his throat so raw, that when he tried to tell her to stop, all that came out was a rasping squeak.

“Clover,” he finally managed to eek out.

But she continued to struggle. By the time he got her outside the roll up door and into fresh air, he was ready to pass out. Yet he held on as he fell to the ground, and wouldn’t let go.

Blackness crept into his vision. The sounds of the crackling fire subsided. Everything started looking like it was in slow motion. Echoes of his past, sounds of the waves on the beach, muffled screams of friends he’d lost in battle filled his ears.

So this is how it goes, then. You do see your past.

Someone’s hand was slapping the side of his face, but he still wouldn’t let go. The numbness was welcome. He was out of pain. The screaming continued but it sounded comical and he started to chuckle.

“I’m not letting you go, Clover. I promised. I promised.”

And then everything went to black.

Chapter 13

Gretchen waited in the emergency room lobby for word on Trace. Clover had been treated for minor cuts and bruises, and some smoke inhalation. She’d broken two bones in her hand trying to get away from Trace’s relentless grip on her body, when she thought he was one of the bad guys intending to do her harm. But when the results of her chest x-ray came in, she was deemed well enough to be discharged at the end of the day after what was left of a night’s sleep.

Clover’s fingers were immobilized and she finally got a shower and a change of clothes she’d desperately wanted. Clean and warm, near the ones she loved, Clover’s pink cheeks returned and she began to express worry about her mother. Gretchen shrugged it off and tried not to let her concern for Trace show. There was time enough to have the “talk” with Clover, if and when that time was right. Tonight was about getting rest, and healing.

Gretchen had spent nearly an hour with her before she finally retired, holding her, helping her to call her sisters and her grandparents.

So when Trace was moved to a room, they allowed her to accompany him. She was exhausted, but was much more comfortable waiting for news in a hospital bed next to him, than in the waiting room filled with too many voices and activity. There were not enough beds in the ICU, which is where he belonged, the doctor told her, but he’d be treated the same, just without some of the equipment.

Trace had been taken to the hospital unconscious and when they last checked he was still unconscious. The specialists were worried about his lungs, although a portable chest x-ray didn’t reveal anything serious, problems were likely to develop later on.

His brothers had also been treated, and although it was recommended they stay in the hospital overnight, they weren’t having any of it. They sat with Gretchen and continued the vigil right with her every step of the way.

As the early morning hours turned into dawn, Gretchen awoke to the sounds of heavy snoring. Fredo had tried to sleep in the lounge chair usually reserved for nursing moms or senior citizens. His knees were pulled to his chest as he curled up around a pillow at his side.

Coop’s ankles and nearly half of his lower legs hung off the couch, which had been moved from the vacant waiting room. He was on his back and Gretchen had asked for and received a blanket to cover his chest up. Both his hands had been burned and due to their size, after the treatment resembled white boxing gloves.

Armando slept with his chest and arms draped over Trace’s bed, his head buried in the blanket to ward off the oncoming sunrise. He was seated in a chair, his upper torso bent at the waist.

Gretchen had slept in the bed in Patient #2’s slot, which finally had been offered after all the evening shift nurses were unsuccessful peeling the SEALs off the floor in order to give her a seat. She was grateful for the courtesy.

Trace had ointment on his eyes and a breathing mask along with an IV in his right arm. He hadn’t moved since they’d brought him. His clothes had been cut off, the pieces of the sooty fabric in a large blue hospital bag, hanging from the chair Armando was sitting in.

As she studied him, his quiet repose belied how sick he really was. The vision of his chest gently rising and falling with each breath got blurry when tears welled up and spilled over her cheeks. It wasn’t lost on her the story that Clover revealed, how Trace hung on to her no matter how hard she hit him. Her teen felt awful about it, but at the same time Gretchen knew the fact that he wouldn’t abandon her no matter if it cost him his life, made a huge impression on her oldest. Even if Trace would not go on to become a permanent fixture in their lives, that life lesson he bestowed on her daughter was worth the entire world in gold.

She’d be eternally grateful.

So she’d come to this juncture in her life, along a rocky pathway filled with disappointments, but every day living her life for her girls. Now she found she had someone else so precious, it was unimaginable that he would not be there in the coming days and months. She knew it was selfish to expect much, so she found herself just asking for his healing, to be restored to his particular brand of perfection with that quirky smile and the dark stubble on his cheeks and chin contrasted with his deep blue eyes. Once he was healthy, he’d be in a position to make some decisions and she would not obligate him, nor beg. It had to be something of his own choosing. She just prayed he be given the chance to have that choice, whatever it was.

She wiped her eyes with the sheet again, and when she looked back over at him he’d turned, opened his eyes and was staring right back at her. She wondered if he’d suffered brain injury, since he had no expression and didn’t try to talk or move a muscle.

He tried to say something but creases formed at the top of his nose as his raspiness looked like it hurt him. But it didn’t stop him. He tried again, and again all he could get was a small squeak, which was enough to awaken Armando.

“Holy fuck, you didn’t die after all.”

She could see Trace was trying not to laugh, and wasn’t looking at Armando, but remained staring back at her. Cooper and Fredo were at the bedside too, asking him questions. Coop was even checking his pulse, raising his eyelids and listening to his chest with a stethoscope left over the bedrail. But Trace didn’t take his eyes off Gretchen.

“You did good, you big dufus. Now if you irritate me, I’ll just punch you and it will be like a marshmallow punch,” Coop said, air-punching close to his face.

Gretchen watched a tear streak down into his pillow. Once more he tried to say something, and this time, she understood him.

“Clover,” He was asking.

Gretchen leaned on her side and gave him a big smile. “She’s going to be fine. She’s sleeping right now, which is what you should be doing.”

“Yes ma’am.” He whispered.

Coop, Fredo and Armando got the full import of the fact that Trace wasn’t in the least bit interested in them. He didn’t look at Coop’s boxing gloves. Fredo showed him the burn on his right forearm, and another angry scrape to his side. Armando had a bandage over his forehead from a glass cut during the explosion and several other bandages on his arms. But Trace didn’t react.

Finally Fredo had had enough. He jumped up and landed on Trace’s bed, causing him to bounce to near sitting position. That got his attention.

“Amigo. Join the living.”

“I am. I’m right here with you all. It’s just that,” he turned his face again to stare back at her, “I’ve just found the most beautiful view in the whole world, and it’s a shame she can’t see it.”

Gretchen touched her chest with her palm and just allowed her tears to flow.

“Come here,” Trace said. He kneed Fredo off the bed, flipped open his sheets and covers and showed her his bear legs underneath, scooting to the side to make room for her. He did all this sporting a huge boner.

“You are a mean motherfucker, Trace Bennett,” Fredo announced in mock offense.

“Yea but I sound like a pussy cat,” Trace whispered in return. All four of the SEALs laughed together. As the silence returned, Trace added one other request.

“Help her get over here so I can feel her naked beside me. That’s the best kind of medicine I need right now. And then get the fuck out of my room for, oh, say about three days, okay?”

They took turns messing with him, and then dutifully brought her over to his bedside. “Take that stupid hospital gown off her and close your eyes, dammit,” he continued to whisper.

Gretchen was beginning to giggle uncontrollably as one of them untied the gown and someone else pulled it away from her body and she stood in front of Trace completely naked.

“Now that’s more like it,” he whispered. “Now, get your butt in here and give me your medicine.”

If you enjoyed this story, look for the full-length novel, SEAL My Love, which will be released next year. Trace will have some choice words to say to Gretchen’s ex. He’ll also continue to demonstrate what it means to be a true father, as he becomes the husband Gretchen has always dreamed of having. Hope you’ll follow along with Trace and Gretchen’s journey then!

Sharon Hamilton’s Book List

SEAL Brotherhood Series

SEAL Encounter (Prequel Novella)

Accidental SEAL (Book 1)

SEAL Endeavor (Novella)

Fallen SEAL Legacy (Book 2)

SEAL Under Covers (Book 3)

SEAL The Deal (Book 4)

Cruisin’ For A SEAL (Book 5)

SEAL My Destiny (Book 6)

SEAL Of My Heart (Book 7)

SEAL Brotherhood Box Set 1 (Accidental SEAL & Prequel)

SEAL Brotherhood Box Set 2 (Fallen SEAL & Prequel)

Ultimate SEAL Collection Vol. 1 (Books 1-4 + 2 Prequels)

Ultimate SEAL Collection Vol. 2 (Books 5-7)

Bad Boys of SEAL Team 3 Series

SEAL’s Promise (Book 1)

SEAL My Home (Book 2)

SEAL’s Code (Book 3)

Big Bad Boys Bundle (Books 1-3 of Bad Boys)

Band of Bachelors Series

Lucas (Book 1)

Alex (Book 2)

Jake (Book 3)

Jake 2 (Book 4)

True Blue SEALs Series

True Navy Blue (prequel to Zak)

Zak (Includes novella above)

Nashville SEAL Series

Nashville SEAL (Book 1)

Nashville SEAL: Jameson (Books 1 & 2 combined)

Fredo Series

Fredo’s Secret (novella) Book 1

Fredo’s Dream (Books 1 & 2 combined)

Standalone Novellas

SEAL You In My Dreams (Magnolias and Moonshine)

SEAL Of Time (Trident Legacy)

Kindle Worlds

SEAL’s Goal: The Beautiful Game

Love Me Tender, Love You Hard

Paradise Series

Paradise: In Search of Love

Sleeper SEALs: Bone Frog Brotherhood Series

Bachelor SEAL

Fall From Grace Series (Paranormal)

Gideon: Heavenly Fall

Golden Vampires of Tuscany Series (Paranormal)

Honeymoon Bite (Book 1)

Mortal Bite (Book 2)

The Guardians (Paranormal)

Heavenly Lover (Book 1)

Underworld Lover (Book 2)

Underworld Queen (Book 3)

About the Author

NYT and USA Today best-selling author Sharon Hamilton’s award-winning Navy SEAL Brotherhood series have been a fan favorite from the day the first one was released. They’ve earned her the coveted author ranking of #1 in Romantic Suspense, Military Romance and Contemporary Romance categories, as well as in Gothic Romance for her Vampires of Tuscany and Guardian Angels. Her characters follow a sometimes rocky road to redemption through passion and true love.

Her Golden Vampires of Tuscany are not like any vamps you’ve read about before, since they don’t go to ground and can walk around in the full light of the sun.

Her Guardian Angels struggle with the human charges they are sent to save, often escaping their vanilla world of Heaven for the brief human one. You won’t find any of these beings in any Sunday school class.

She lives in Sonoma County, California with her husband and two Dobermans. A lifelong organic gardener, when she’s not writing, she’s getting verra verra dirty in the mud, or wandering Farmers Markets looking for new Heirloom varieties of vegetables and flowers.

She loves hearing from her fans:

Sharonhamilton2001@gmail.com

Her website is:

sharonhamiltonauthor.com

Find out more about Sharon, her upcoming releases, appearances and news from her newsletter:

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Join Sharon’s Review Teams:

eBook Reviews:

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Life is one fool thing after another.

Love is two fool things after each other.

Audiobooks

All of Sharon Hamilton’s books are available as audiobooks narrated by J.D. Hart.

Reviews

Praise for the SEAL Brotherhood Series

“Fans of Navy SEAL romance, I found a new author to feed your addiction. Finely written and loaded delicious with moments, Sharon Hamilton’s storytelling satisfies like a thick bar of chocolate.” —Marliss Melton, bestselling author of the Team Twelve Navy SEALs series

“Sharon Hamilton does an EXCELLENT job of fitting all the characters into a brotherhood of SEALS that may not be real but sure makes you feel that you have entered the circle and security of their world. The stories intertwine with each book before…and each book after and THAT is what makes Sharon Hamilton’s SEAL Brotherhood Series so very interesting. You won’t want to put down ANY of her books and they will keep you reading into the night when you should be sleeping. Start with this book…and you will not want to stop until you’ve read the whole series and then…you will be waiting for Sharon to write the next one.” (5 Star Review)

“Kyle and Christy explode all over the pages in this first book, [Accidental SEAL], in a whole new series of SEALs. If the twist and turns don’t get your heart jumping, then maybe the suspense will. This is a must read for those that are looking for love and adventure with a little sloppy love thrown in for good measure.” (5 Star Review)

Praise For The Bad Boys Of Seal Team 3 Series

“I love reading this series! Once you start these books, you can hardly put them down. The mix of romance and suspense keeps you turning the pages one right after another! Can’t wait until the next book!” (5 Star Review)

“I love all of Sharon’s Seal books, but [SEAL’s Code] may just be her best to date. Danny and Luci’s journey is filled with a wonderful insight into the Native American life. It is a love story that will fill you with warmth and contentment. You will enjoy Danny’s journey to become a SEAL and his reasons for it. Good job Sharon!” (5 Star Review)

Praise For The Band of Bachelors Series

“[Lucas] was the first book in the Band of Bachelors series and it was a phenomenal start. I loved how we got to see the other SEALs we all love and we got a look at Lucas and Marcy. They had an instant attraction, and their love was very intense. This book had it all, suspense, steamy romance, humor, everything you want in a riveting, outstanding read. I can’t wait to read the next book in this series.” (5 Star Review)

Praise For The True Blue Seals Series

“Keep the tissues box nearby as you read True Blue SEALs: Zak by Sharon Hamilton. I imagine more than I wish to that the circumstances surrounding Zak and Amy are all too real for returning military personnel and their families. Ms. Hamilton has put us right in the middle of struggles and successes that these two high school sweethearts endure. I have read several of Sharon Hamilton’s military romances but will say this is the most emotionally intense of the ones that I have read. This is a well-written, realistic story with authentic characters that will have you rooting for them and proud of those who serve to keep us safe. This is an author who writes amazing stories that you love and cry with the characters. Fans of Jessica Scott and Marliss Melton will want to add Sharon Hamilton to their list of realistic military romance writers.” (5 Star Review)

Navy Seal Prayer

“Dear FATHER IN HEAVEN,

If I may respectfully say so sometimes you are a strange God. Though you love all mankind,

It seems you have special predilections too.

You seem to love those men who can stand up alone who face impossible odds, Who challenge every bully and every tyrant ~

Those men who know the heat and loneliness of Calvary. Possibly you cherish men of this stamp because you recognize the mark of your only son in them.

Since this unique group of men known as the SEALs know Calvary and suffering, teach them now the mystery of the resurrection ~ that they are indestructible, that they will live forever because of their deep faith in you.

And when they do come to heaven, may I respectfully warn you, Dear Father, they also know how to celebrate. So please be ready for them when they insert under your pearly gates.

Bless them, their devoted Families and their Country on this glorious occasion.

We ask this through the merits of your Son, Christ Jesus the Lord, Amen.”

By Reverend E.J. McMalhon S.J. LCDR, CHC, USN

Awards Ceremony SEAL Team One

1975 At NAB, Coronado

Tempting James

Victoria Pinder

She’s on the run. He’s a distraction. They’re begging for trouble.

James Clancy made a promise, and he intends to keep it. But protecting his former Marine buddy’s sister proves to be more than he bargained for. He’s already been burned once. He’s not about to let that happen again.

The last thing Scarlett Hawke needs is a babysitter. What she needs is a husband, and a way out. When she meets James, she knows he oh-so-wrong for her, but resisting him might be the hardest thing she’s ever had to do… until she discovers who he really is and just how dangerous that can be.

Will Scarlett let love happen or will it only make her complicated life worse?

This book is dedicated to my Nana in heaven. My Irish grandmother was the best. She cared about all her grandchildren, though she made each of us feel special. I cherished my Friday night sleepover at her house once a week. I loved watching all the game shows and eating her mac and cheese and our 3 o’clock tea time, complete with a variety of pastries or sandwiches.

Chapter 1

Scarlett needed a husband, now. She paced the boardroom of her company and tried not to think about how her parents had been almost mowed down by a gunman on the street. At least they had been wearing bulletproof vests and were fine. The pressure of ‘what if’ had kept her up all night. She hadn’t been able to focus on anything, and right now, for work, she needed to find a temporary husband for herself.

Outside, people walked in from swimming back to the beach in bright daylight while the palm trees swayed in the breeze. It was just another day in Miami for those people, but her mind swirled with the ‘what if’ questions that never stopped. If her father hadn’t taken precautions against an assassination attempt, she might not have seen them ever again. Her last stupid fight with her mother over her choice of a blue or red skirt seemed so stupid now.

Her secretary buzzed in and said, “He’s back.”

Right. James, the guy who’d showed up an hour ago without references, and told her secretary, Maria, that he was here to be her bodyguard. She’d instructed her secretary on the intercom send him away, but now, Maria assured her that he checked out.

Maria had even called her brother, Gabe, who confirmed he’d hired him.

And of course her brother thought she wasn’t capable on her own. Her hands went into fists, but then she unclenched them. Gabe wasn’t here to tell off. She crossed her arms, ready to meet this doughnut-eating, wannabe cop.

Then her gaze met the blue eyes of one of the most attractive, rough around the edges bad boys she’d seen in a long time. In her makeup company, Sundarata, she was surrounded by physically perfect male models, but they all lacked something tangible. This bodyguard, was all testosterone and sex on a stick. Her breath caught in her chest but then caught herself. Serious businesswomen didn’t flirt, and she was the CEO of a legitimate business. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“Princess…”

“It’s Scarlett or Ms. Hawke.” He was her brother’s friend, clearly. To avoid him, she flipped her hair and turned toward the window. She had no time for someone who talked down to her, in the same way that she had no time for one of her siblings who tried to annoy her. “Use my name or see yourself out right now.”

He stepped closer and her pulse ached for his touch. Bodyguards were not supposed to turn her on, especially not when she had all these fires to put out in her life. The contract with Max Shepard would help grow her company, and work was all she could handle at the moment.

“Scarlett, your brother hired me to protect you, and despite my better judgment, I agreed because someone tried to assassinate both your parents and there are threats against your entire family. Your brother trusts me, and only he tells me when to leave.”

Her head was full of pressure that was about to explode, but her anger would be directed toward Gabe when she saw him next. She swallowed her pride, straightened her skirt, and remembered that the island resort where her business conference was to be held would be full of makeup executives. Assassins tended to stay local, or at least she’d like to think so. She crossed her arms and tried to speak with as much determination as she could muster. “Gabe means well, but I’m going on a business trip where I’m not leaving the hotel for a week. By the time I get back, this will all be over.”

“Everyone I know can buy a plane ticket, and you’re not exactly low profile, Ms. Hawke.”

Right. She was known as the daughter of the Hawke fortune and an international shopper with expensive tastes, welcome in every exclusive shop. This time she was going to be more, though, and the contract would put her company on a world map without her daddy’s credit card.

James moved closer and something sent a lightening bolt of awareness through her. She saw the hint of a tattoo under that blue t-shirt of his. As a girl, she’d wished for a dreamy-looking guy like him to come and find her at her prestigious academy, to show her the world. No guy ever measured up to fantasy. She dropped her arms from her waist, but held her wrists together to ensure he had no clue how he affected her pulse. “Where on earth did my brother meet someone like you?”

“Marines.”

“Naturally.” She took a deep breath and wished it was a cold shower. She needed to stop imagining that Marine equaled strength or that he might protect her. No one could. Then she brushed her hair out of her eyes. “The way you stand should’ve given that away.”

“Excuse me?”

Right now she had to find a husband, not a bad-boy bodyguard who must love flag and country over protecting someone like her, a socialite originally from New York. His kind hated her. She needed to find the buttons to push to make him go away. It was for their own good. Rolling her eyes, Scarlett mustered up her acting chops. “However, the scruffy five o’clock shadow shows you gave that lifestyle up, and that tattoo on your arm tells me you no longer care about anyone or anything. Look, you were probably good at security while serving overseas, but I run a business.”

James didn’t even blink. “Gabe warned me that you were high maintenance.”

“My brother doesn’t know me anymore.” Her hands balled into fists. Everyone in the Hawke family took Olivia and Gabe seriously, but they still expected Scarlett to be the one out shopping. No one understood that her makeup business was important to her and the hundreds of people she now employed. That number could soon be in the thousands, if she scored the contract with Shepard. “And your services will get in my way.”

“Then explain to me why you’d rather continue your life as you know it, without anyone next to you, when you know an assassin shot at your parents from the top of a building. If you’re next on the list, why would you even take a chance, Scarlett?”

“Because…” He’d be a complicated husband and confuse her. He’d not be worth the trouble. She couldn’t say that, so she had nothing to say. Drat.

“I’m listening.”

The truth was the only thing in her mind. She’d have to tell him. Images of them in bed while he kissed her, hard and demanding, flooded her thoughts and a sigh escaped her lips. “I’m going to an island resort to settle a deal, and I need a husband, not a bodyguard.”

His eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

Nothing drove a bad boy away faster than the thought of marriage. She stepped away from him and felt cold, air-conditioned air hit her overheated body. She stared out at the swaying palm tress and the people walking by. “My makeup company is still in its infancy, but we use organic products and we have a cult-like clientele that buys everything we produce. I built my brand on the idea that a beautiful woman can have anything she wants, and that includes a man. My investors want to merge Sundarata with a larger conglomerate, but I have to be the face of my company.”

He crossed his arms and stood beside her. Quietly, they both gazed out the huge bay windows of her beachfront premise.

“I’m not following,” James said after a moment.

If she used him for this trip, he’d ask so many questions and fill her head with thoughts she had no time for. Being attracted to her brother’s friend meant her brother would try to influence her life again.

It was best for both of them if she pushed him away and never admitted how her body ached to be closer to him. She lifted her chin, mentally said a prayer to help her, and thought of the rudest way to phrase what she was going to say next. “I’ll use easier words, then. I don’t need a bodyguard. I need a husband, and you’re not even close to what might qualify as a good candidate. You look blue collar and smell like sin on a motorcycle.”

He blinked. “What? Sin on a motorcycle?”

That was what he chose to focus on? She was never going to explain the fantasy of sex on a motorcycle that had popped into her head the moment she saw him. Never.

Everyone assumed she was the privileged daughter who spent her days and nights in the finest of luxury, haughty and spoiled like a princess. Well, it was time to muster up the princess act. She peered down her nose. “Did I insult you, Mr…? I don’t know your last name, James.”

He bowed, mocking her. “James Clancy, your highness.”

“Scarlett Hawke.”

“I know. I know your brother.”

“Look. I don’t have the time to play semantics.” The name Clancy took her by surprise, but she merely held out her hand like the reigning monarch in this play. Clancy was a common name, and it was unlikely he would be any relation to her father’s friend. She’d know him if that was true, so she dismissed the thought and focused on getting rid of him. Once he left, she’d hire her own bodyguard and temporary husband, most likely a pretty model-type that she’d never be attracted to. “Now, Mr. Clancy, I have to continue my interviews for this husband I need.”

She could take care of herself, and she didn’t need Gabe’s interference in her life. Trying to pay as little attention as possible to James, she walked to the boardroom table that was set up for interviews and opened her folder. He followed her.

Taking a seat next to her, he blatantly stared at the names on her list. “How long do you need a husband for?”

James qualified for sex, and heartache when he left. He might be a good bodyguard, but husband material was out of the question. She picked up her pen. “Are you volunteering?”

“How long?”

Her mind raced to think of something clever to say, but she wasn’t capable of thinking on her feet like that. He’d never volunteer anyhow, so she settled on the truth. “A week at least, though I’d rather a month to ensure all the contracts are signed and no one takes anything away.”

He leaned backwards in his chair and rocked it. “I’d scare off any man who walks in for that job.”

True, but secretly that was fine with her. She fixed her necklace around her neck. She hadn’t counted on him making her want to run her hands through his hair and strip off all his clothes. Most attractive men left her cold and indifferent, and she had to remind herself that James was her brother’s friend. She pointed toward the door with the pen. “Which is why you should leave.”

He shook his head. When was the last time she’d even thought about a man like this? College, maybe, but she’d never actually dated anyone who made her body this hot from simply being next to him. His presence was so distracting she almost missed what he said.

“Scarlett, I promised your brother that I’d protect you.”

The words took a second to register. She dropped her pen and turned toward him. “Why?”

“Why what?”

He might look like her dream bad boy, one her parents would never approve of, but he was a boring boy scout at heart. She crossed her legs. “Why would that promise matter to you?”

“Ms. Hawke, you want your head in one piece. So I suggest we come to an agreement.”

That wasn’t an answer. Her head in one piece was her goal too, but more important was building her company with none of her parent’s money. Her company wasn’t tied to the Hawke name, and she wanted to keep it that way.

She gazed into those baby blues of his again. “James, you’re not bad looking, but we both know you being a Marine and boy scout means you hold honor in high regard, and my blasé attitude toward marriage right now probably offended your morality.”

“That sounds like Gabe.”

Her brother always was the moral one. She turned and picked up her pen again. “He hasn’t changed.”

James placed his hand on hers, making her jolt as he said, “I’m not your brother, Ms. Hawke. A month-long marriage and my job to protect you go together. I’ll marry you, and we’ll set the date and time for the divorce on our honeymoon.”

Business. That was all this was. She had to think those words to stay sane, because the way the words ‘marry you’ played in her heart like a stringed bow playing a love song on repeat wasn’t good. “You didn’t ask what the pay will be.”

“I owe Gabe. Protecting you might be payback.”

Owe Gabe? Her brother typically only associated with billionaires who thought money was the only way out of a situation, and James Clancy wore jeans that had seen better days and a threadbare t-shirt. She unbuttoned the top button of her blouse while she imagined his lips on her exposed neck. This wasn’t good. She played with her necklace again. “What did he do for you that you’re not asking for payment?”

“He didn’t let me go back to prison. Now if that’s all, Scarlett, it seems I need to shave before we say I do.”

“Don’t. I like scruffy-looking. Gives you an edge.” She watched him walk to the door and check it out. Then he held out his arm for her, like he wanted her to follow him. She stood up. “And I’m sorry I was rude earlier. I thought it would send you away.”

“Takes more than words to send me packing.”

Unsure what else to do, she picked up her folder and joined him. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

He winked at her. “This might be my only wedding, ever. So humor me: wear white.”

“Of course.”

Today they’d be married and tonight they’d fly to Grand Bohemia. That was the plan, but with James, she couldn’t imagine the plan staying on track. Desire shook her on the inside and knocked her right off course.

Chapter 2

“Wear this one.” Scarlett brushed against him as he buttoned up his shirt under the light tuxedo that made him look like a waiter. Her rounded backside wasn’t typical of the stick figures he seemed to surround himself with lately. Scarlett was slim, but James had a feeling her curves would feel perfect under his calloused hands. She was easily the most attractive woman he’d seen in years.

He stared at himself, remembering the form-fitting black tuxedo he’d tried on earlier, and for a moment had a vision of being a spy who gambled in Monte Carlo. Not that this mission was anything like what he saw in the movies. He glanced at Scarlett, who unwrapped the bowtie that went with the waiter outfit.

He made the face he always used to show his mother that he disapproved. “It’s gray. I prefer black.”

She stood beside him and crossed her arms, her blue eyes sparkling with energy and emotion. “Your blue eyes pop more with the grey.”

His pale blue eyes were nothing compared to her deep blue wells of hidden depths. He unbuttoned the vest. If today was going to be his wedding day, then he might as well enjoy it. This was the only wedding he’d ever have, after all. “I still prefer black, Scarlett.”

She shrugged and watched him undress down to his black boxer briefs. Despite her feigned indifference, every time he let her see his body, the raw hunger in her eyes gave her away. She turned her head to pretend she hadn’t noticed him. “Fine. Luckily the store owner is a friend of mine.”

“You mean a business acquaintance.” He doubted Scarlett had friends. She was rather high maintenance, just like her brother said, but she was also more vulnerable than she let people believe. Her white and blue suit must have been made just for her and probably cost more than most people made in a year. That was obvious from how it hugged every hot curve.

Whatever was causing her to get married in a hurry likely had nothing to do with the threat against her family, but he needed to know all the angles in order to protect her.

“Both.” She shrugged and walked out of the dressing room toward the cash register while he tugged on his pants. The last thing he needed was for her to pay.

He pulled his blue t-shirt over his head and slipped his shoes on while she handed over her credit card.

Clearly she thought she was paying for him.

The bombshell blonde returned just as he finished dressing. “Now that you have your wedding suit and a few business ones for our trip, it’s time to go. Here’s to our date with disaster.”

If he argued with her, she’d ask questions about his life that he’d refuse to answer. It was better to let her think he had no money. “Why are we getting married, exactly?”

“Does it matter?”

She picked up his bags from the cashier on the way out, giving him time to step out first and glance around the buildings. Any rooftop assassin wouldn’t get enough cover with the low buildings. As she exited the store, he took the bags from her and led her to the waiting town car before helping her inside. The next stop on their list of errands was the courthouse.

“Yes. I’m here to protect you.”

“Don’t use that tone.”

He hadn’t yelled. His eyes narrowed. “What tone?”

“The tone that makes me think about you and your sexy shoulders protecting me.” He could feel a smile growing on his face, and he was sure his dimples would show. Scarlett’s classic beauty had a fragility to it that made her seem more than the spoiled rich girl that she let the world see. The driver didn’t say a word while they were driving, but James kept his voice low anyhow. “It’s my job, Scarlett. Now, why do you need to get married?”

For a fraction of a second, she seemed petrified. Then she loosened her lips but kept her hands on her waist like she was hugging herself. “Everyone assumes I know nothing and that I’m daddy’s little girl with a credit card. I majored in chemistry, but it didn’t change anyone’s opinions, including investors. My makeup brand had over a million dollars in gross sales last year, but people still see the image of Scarlett Hawke and not me.”

He’d studied biomedical engineering, when he finally went to college, but if the girls in the chemistry department had been like Scarlett, he’d have changed his career plans. Either way that didn’t have anything to do with now. The driver turned onto Biscayne, which meant they were a few minutes away from this wedding. “How does getting married help that?”

“It shows that I’m willing to be stable, as well as a businesswoman. I’m in talks for a conglomerate to come in with a lot of money, and I need to show that I’m in their best interest.”

“Okay.” She’d grown up rich.

“I hope I can get premium placement at Nordstrom by the beginning of the next fiscal year.”

“Good luck.” She must not have known how an uncle he never met had died and left him in charge of Clancy Industries, an empire that included shipping to every major department store in the country. But he’d been focusing his attention on applied sciences, and he wasn’t advertising he was the heir to anything, to anyone, including his about-to-be wife.

“So why did you agree to protect me? Don’t give me that line about owing my brother again.”

She made a motion for them to stop at a store. The driver searched for a place to park while James gazed at the surrounding buildings. The police station was across the street, and there were a few palm trees, but nothing major where someone could shoot from a distance.

“I do owe him.”

They were stopping at the bridal boutique on Miracle Mile, so she must be picking up her wedding dress. This time she waited for his signal, and then they rushed inside. Within seconds, she went to the register and paid for what he assumed was a dress in a garment bag.

Once they were done, he escorted her back to the car, handed the dress to the driver and helped her inside. As he scooted in, she asked, “How did Gabe save you from prison?”

Gabe had known him before his entire world changed. For Scarlett, right now, it was better that they make this deal without her knowing who he was. “I spent most of my teenage years in a detention center, and then I joined the military. After training, I was placed in my first unit, and when the theft of military secrets put my entire unit in danger, the MP’s arrested me. They assumed it was me because I’d been in trouble my whole life.”

“And my brother bailed you out?”

The driver began to drive them to their final destination. He turned off Biscayne two minutes later, and onto a side street. “Your brother not only bailed me out, he figured out I was set up and asked for my help to find who stole the plans.”

“And then there was the explosion that left my brother burned?”

In the desert, his team—Colt, Belle, Gabe, Harrison and Conner—were the closest thing he’d had to a family in years. The day Gabe was burned, they’d been attacked by some ninja assassin straight out of a movie. He was young, but he had tried to kill all of us, and nearly succeeded in Gabe’s case. At the last second, the boy changed his mind and stopped, so James helped Gabe. But none of this was for Scarlett’s ears. “I was there, but he almost died because I wasn’t fast enough.”

“Did you leave him to die?”

“No.” If Scarlett knew he’d almost lost her brother, she might not trust him now.

The car stopped and his pulse quickened—they’d arrived at the courthouse. “We pulled him out, but we were there because I wanted revenge.”

“My brother is fine, and you’re working in security. I would say he owes you his life.”

“Gabe doesn’t owe me anything.”

He checked the surroundings and saw no signs of any place for a long distance shot on the way to the door. Security would be tight inside. He helped Scarlett out, and she dropped his arm, went to the back, met the driver who gave her the garment bag and headed inside. The driver shook his head and returned to the car.

A policewoman was stationed near the ladies room that Scarlett intended to go to.

“Go get dressed.” She pointed toward the men’s room for him.

“Right.” Time to change for his own wedding. He spoke to the guard about Scarlett, waited a minute, then finally headed into the men’s room to put on his tux.

Two minutes later, he was dressed and waiting.

The clock ticked and minutes rolled by. Anything might have happened, and he had no idea if there were windows inside the ladies room for an assassin to get to her. The men’s room didn’t have any, but that didn’t mean anything. He was about to knock on the door when she finally emerged.

She wore a form-fitting, silky-smooth dress that hugged her in all the right places, making his hands ache to touch and feel her. She handed the driver her bags and then took James’ arm. “Are you ready for this or should I find someone else?”

He led her toward the line to get a marriage certificate. “Getting married at a courthouse and going to a conference for a honeymoon is what I always wanted out of life.”

“I’m sure.” In front of them was a young couple, the girl in a simple knee-length dress and the boy in a suit that was too big for him. Neither seemed like assassins to him. Scarlett reached into her pocketbook. “Wait. I need you to sign this.”

“What is it?” He opened it and glanced at the document. It said they would both continue to keep whatever assets they possessed before this date, and that any profits their own assets earned were separate property, not subject to division in case of divorce.

“A prenup in case of—”

“Say no more.” He waved his hand, picked up a nearby pen from the cashier’s counter, and signed it. “Here you go.”

“Can we discuss payment?”

“Your brother paid me. To me this is the same job.” The last thing he needed was more money. He handed the marriage license application Scarlett had already filled out to the cashier. The lady motioned for them to go to window fourteen, so they followed the young couple and waited for their turn. James motioned toward the black plastic chairs.

Scarlett lifted her nose and refused to sit.

“Did you have a wife or girlfriend that might think different?” she asked.

“No, I’m free of commitments.” The young couple was called into the office. They were now next.

Scarlett suddenly took both his hands in hers, and the jolt he felt when their fingers touched overwhelmed him. No girl was this sweet, not to him. “James, if I don’t say this later: thank you.”

Thanks weren’t what he wanted. Her lips on his while he stripped her of clothes would be better, but he owed her brother respect. He let her hands go. “Let’s get this over with.”

The young couple emerged a few minutes later. Any second it would be his turn. He stared at the number fourteen, trying to will everything to go faster, until someone bumped into him. Looking up, he was surprised to see Sienna Stewart, in a black skirt suit and button-down shirt. He hadn’t seen her since she’d helped him straighten out his inheritance, though he technically paid her weekly to be Clancy Industries’ internal counsel. She took off her glasses. “James! Congratulations, I’m in shock you’re here. When we dated those few times, you said you weren’t ever getting married. Glad to see you found the one.”

“Hello, thanks. We’re both happy.”

“Well, if you need me for anything, let me know.” She then took off and continued talking to some other man, who must be a lawyer.

Scarlett tugged on his arm and he turned back toward a face that could launch those thousand ships in the Iliad. Her eyes were wide. “You run into ex’s all the time, wherever you go?”

“I don’t.”

“Who was she? She didn’t exactly say hi to me.”

When he’d found out he had an inheritance that required work, he’d needed a lawyer’s advice. After that, he hired her to stay on full time and watch out for the company’s interests. He unbuttoned his tux jacket as the clerk motioned she was ready for them. “Sienna is an attorney. We shared a few meals last year.”

“Let me guess, you didn’t call in the morning.”

He guided her toward the door. “Relationships aren’t my thing.”

“Well then, let’s get inside and change that for a month.”

“After a month, you’ll be happy to be rid of me.”

“If you say so.”

As he entered the room after her, James reminded himself that the beautiful and sexy woman in front of him was off limits. Scarlett was the sister of a friend, and he’d need to keep his distance while on a tropical resort with her. This job had to remain platonic, even if Scarlett set his temperature ablaze.

Chapter 3

The second Scarlett’s private plane landed, she turned toward her new husband, who had been working on his laptop since they took off, and gazed at him. They were legally married, though the distance between them felt like the Grand Canyon and the silence hadn’t helped. James was in his blue jeans and t-shirt again, while she’d changed into a white button-down shirt, black business suit, and matching sandals to show off her French pedicure. Even their clothing made the cultural differences between them obvious.

Either way, she’d pull this off and everyone would believe they were married. She’d get her contract, prove herself, and everything would be perfect. She stood up and brushed her hands down her dress to ensure she had no wrinkles. “James, let me introduce you, and don’t worry about anything.”

He closed his laptop and slipped it into a bag. “Scarlett, I’m here to protect you.”

“I know. I’m leaving you in charge of keeping me safe.” She’d married a man her brother clearly thought highly of, and while he wasn’t her first choice, it was the choice she’d made. James’ blue jeans and t-shirts were good for the short term, and perhaps one day her fantasies about a bad boy might come true. Most of the stuff she thought about James was mostly of her own making.

“Kind of you.”

She picked up her pocketbook and fluffed her hair, ready to dazzle whoever she might need to help her company succeed. Then she took a step toward the door. “Let’s go.”

“Wait.” He reached out and gently grabbed her shoulder. She turned toward him, and a moment later his hard lips were on hers.

In his arms, she melted like the ice caps on a warm summer day, and she never wanted the moment to end. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders with only one thought in her mind: this was what being his would be like. He kissed better than she ever dreamed any man might. As he pulled away, he rubbed her cheek with his finger. She was lost at sea for another second, but slowly her mind returned. “Why did you do that?”

He winked and let her go. “No one would buy we’re married if I hadn’t.”

“Oh. Okay.” She hugged her pocketbook to her waist, as her thoughts weren’t up to being witty with a comeback. She blinked once, fixed her skirt, took a moment, and turned to go.

He came beside her and held out his hand. “Just hold my hand.”

“Always.” Had she just said that? Really? She lowered her head as they walked into the sunny airport next to the blue waters of the island. He led her toward the hangar, where their car was waiting. A minute later, they were on their way to the hotel.

Her pulse seemed to center on his hand the entire ride.

Truthfully, even her boyfriends hadn’t made her feel this possessed. How James held her had made her feel special, and struck chords deep inside her. The car pulled into the nearby hotel and terror seized her entire body, making her stiff and unable to move.

For a second, she released her hand and clutched her pocketbook while James exited and checked the perimeter.

Once she’d remastered the art of breathing, she checked her makeup and scooted toward the door. Before exiting, she fluffed her hair again and offered her hand. James took it. As he held the door open for her, Scarlett could already see the president of Leviathan Inc. in the lobby. He would be a good potential investor if her first choice fell through. She smiled and directed them toward him. “Tom, lovely to see you. James, this is Tom Braddock.”

Braddock paid her no attention and shook James’ hand with a huge smile on his face. As the seconds wore on, she pressed her other hand on James’ shoulder to get his attention.

Braddock then turned toward her. “Mr. Clancy, I had no idea you knew Scarlett.”

Recognition between the two of them was a dark cloud she hadn’t expected. Scarlett smiled, but couldn’t understand how James would know someone as important as the president of Leviathan Inc. Had James protected Braddock in the past, as security? It was too late to check into James’ background; she had been too determined to get married and forgotten to check who she was getting married to, beyond her phone call to Gabe. Scarlett swallowed and said, “He’s my husband. How did you know James’ last name was Clancy?”

James then tapped his jacket. “Name tag?”

No. They weren’t wearing name tags yet. Braddock was, but Maria Sophies from Claremont Cosmetics joined the party before Scarlett could think too much about it. Braddock immediately introduced her.

“Maria, Mr. Clancy is Scarlett’s husband.”

Maria reached out and kissed James’ cheek. “James Clancy, I’ve been angling for an appointment with your secretary for a year.”

The bodyguard story made no sense now. Maria spent her days in a cosmetic company, the same as Scarlett. She never needed muscled backup normally. Scarlett glanced at James’ profile. The hint of that tribal tattoo on his upper arm peeked out of his shirt. She pursed her lips and took her hands off him. “Appointment?”

He instantly wrapped his arms around her waist. “Scarlett, sweetheart, don’t worry about it. You’re still my number one.”

He kissed her cheek, and that act alone made her insides feel like a pudding.

Maria said, “Scarlett, I wanted your husband to come in on a business that I believe will make us both money.”

“I see, Maria.” She stared at James. None of this made any sense. Her husband couldn’t help Maria in cosmetics.

James kept his hand on the small of her back. “Sweetheart, can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

“Sure.” She air-kissed Maria and James nodded goodbye to Braddock.

They made their way over to a nook overlooking a pool next to the ocean. James stayed close enough to kiss. Her lips tingled in anticipation, but she ignored the sensation in favor of focusing on the matter at hand. “What’s going on, Mr. Clancy? Why would Maria Davies want to work with you? Who are you exactly?”

“Your bodyguard.”

“No. Who did I just marry?”

He then leaned even closer. Her heart raced. “James Clancy, CEO of Clancy Industries.”

Clancy Industries was owned by a man old enough to be her grandfather, and Scarlett had taken the company off her list of investors because he’d been her father’s friend. She’d met him during one of her parents’ parties. “Bernard Clancy died. He had no children.”

“I was his nephew. Growing up, my mother certainly never mentioned Uncle Bernie.”

Her pulse raced. This meant James wasn’t a bad boy at all. He was privileged and wealthy, which was the opposite of what she needed. “You should have told me this before.”

“And what? Have you interview men that can’t protect you?”

Her heart hadn’t been on the line before now—it had just been just a business deal. She rearranged her pocketbook and ignored how close they were. “At least they wouldn’t have hurt my chance to prove myself.”

“What?” His hands settled on her hips, like she was already his. “Scarlett, we’re on a beautiful island in the tropics and you’re getting the chance to negotiate whatever deal you want for your company.”

Not how she intended, though. She met his gaze and tried to explain. “With you as my husband, I’ll get a yes simply through association. For once in my life, I wanted it to happen because of my work and not my family name.”

“It’s still your work, Scarlett. It’s your company and you built it.”

“You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be considered ‘the girl with daddy’s credit card’ and never taken seriously.”

“No, I wouldn’t. But I don’t think you’d understand what it’s like to go without that credit card and to worry about where your next meal comes from, so we’re even.”

“Don’t act like you’ve ever suffered as CEO of Clancy Industries.”

James came closer, and his lips were less than an inch from hers. Again, her tingles of anticipation for a kiss grew. “Everything I told you about myself was true, Scarlett. I had no idea about my Uncle Bernie until he died. I broke my mother’s heart at fourteen when they sent me to a juvenile detention center to get me off the streets. Without me, I hoped she’d have more food for herself, but then my mother died and I was alone in the world. The Marines were my best shot.”

“James, you should have told me.”

She closed her eyes as his lips met hers. His kiss made her knees weak, and she clung to him desperately. Everything else was forgotten for the moment they touched, and Scarlett thought if he kissed her like this one more time, she’d be addicted. As he ended the kiss, her lips already ached to be kissed again. “And you should have figured out a way to get these appointments without marrying yourself off,” he said.

“Don’t judge me.” She crossed her arms. There was no way out of this now. The ring on her finger showed her determination, and she’d do anything.

He stepped away, but held out his hand. “Scarlett, come here.”

“Why?” Even as she said it, she was taking his hand.

He led her toward the check-in counter. “You’re a complication for me too.”

“How?”

While they waited for someone to serve them and give them the keys to their room, he kissed her again. Fireworks exploded as she forgot where they were.

Then someone, somewhere, said, “Next.”

James ended the kiss. She sucked in her breath. “Wow.”

He squeezed her hand. “Now let’s check in and get settled while I think about what I owe your brother so I don’t do anything more than kiss you.”

No. She had to taste and be his fully. It wasn’t wise—she should go into the conference and mingle—but for right now, she needed all of James first. If she had to, she’d strip naked. “Go ahead and try to forget this is our honeymoon,” she said as they walked to the check-in counter. “I dare you.”

Chapter 4

At the door to the honeymoon suite, Scarlett refused to give James time to even think. She turned the handle, floated in, and dropped her bag on the nearby table. James followed her at a slower pace as she tugged off her cardigan and threw it on the floor. Her shoes came off next, as he closed the door behind him. She turned back toward him, and now they were alone.

Since she’d married him, she’d wanted to know what it felt to be his, entirely. Right now she’d forget everything logical, sane and cold. Nothing mattered except for how she felt about him. Perhaps tomorrow she’d be different, but right now she needed him. She needed to be with him. So she unbuttoned her shirt and let him see a flash of her pink bra.

“I shouldn’t.” He put his hands in his pockets.

Scarlett Hawke decided her life, including her sex life. Outside on the patio, she heard parrots playing in the palm trees. Here, she could do anything she wanted. No one would know. She untucked her shirt and dropped it on the ground. His eyes grew wider as she walked closer to stand in front of him. “I want you.”

“I’ll hurt you.” He stepped away from her.

For once, she wasn’t going to simply walk away and not do anything. Her heart beat faster as she unzipped her body-hugging skirt. If she was going to seduce him, then she had to be bold, despite her nerves practically making her shake. She lifted her chin and met his blue eyes. “I’ll like it.”

“Put your skirt on,” he said, but she could see he was interested.

All her life, she’d been the good girl. Now she wanted him, and nothing was going to stop her. She unhooked her bra and leaned forward, pressing herself to him as she whispered in his ear. “I’m getting naked. I hope you’ll join me.”

She could feel his erection growing against her, large and throbbing.

“Scarlett,” he said, voiced strained, “I still owe your brother.”

Gabe wasn’t here, and her brother never had a say in who she dated anyway. She wasn’t about to let him have even one ounce of a say now. She kissed James’ cheek and then stepped away to drop her bra. “You’re married to me. I think, for this month, my needs matter.”

He took his hands out of his pockets and stepped closer to her. The smell of his testosterone mixed with pine, making her think of a secluded, woodsy cabin. He wrapped his arms around her. “He’ll never forgive me.”

“And I’ll never forgive you if you don’t.”

Then his lips captured hers. Fireworks exploded inside her and she wanted to follow him to the bed. However, that wouldn’t make her point.

All her teasing had led to this moment. But the moment their lips ended the kiss, she swallowed. Her heart whispered that she was making a mistake right now, and was being impulsive. Drat. She couldn’t shake the idea. So she gently pushed his shoulder and said, “Mr. Clancy. I want a divorce.”

His phone rang, giving her a moment as he checked the screen. She’d have no answer if he asked why she went hot and cold, other than she knew she was wrong.

He stepped back and covered his erection, but as he put his phone back in his pocket, he said, “I figured we were going to have the shortest marriage. You didn’t even blink when I said ‘I do’ with my last name in the ceremony.”

She unzipped her bag and found a blue wrap dress, pulling it on even though the silk material felt rough to her oversensitive skin. “I didn’t make the connection. Clancy isn’t a unique name.”

“Because you have selective vision and me being rich didn’t fit in with your plan.”

She’d dismissed him wrongly because of his clothes and that tattoo of his. Now fully dressed again, she adjusted her necklace and glared at him. She was still hot for him, but he had no right to know that. “Your kiss doesn’t change how angry I am at you. Why did you marry me and let me believe your lie?”

“Because you asked. And if that was you angry, I can’t wait to see you begging for me.”

“Never going to happen.” She’d ignore what had just happened and focus on something else. She rolled her eyes and then picked up two shoes, gold and black, and pretended she had a tough decision to make. “You must get women wanting to marry you all the time.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does. With you at my side, no one takes me seriously.”

She put the gold shoes on the floor, but didn’t put them on. Perhaps now that she’d pushed and then let things relax between them, they might start over again.

“Let them laugh.”

“That’s not it, James. No one will laugh, but I was on a mission to prove my own business skills.”

She sat on the bed, alone.

James adjusted his pants and then sat beside her, patting her on the back like they were friends. “Scarlett, your last name comes with the same baggage as mine does. You are your father’s daughter.”

He had a point. If she’d thought that he was both everything her parents wanted for her and her brother’s friend, there was no way she would have been attracted to him. Her heart whispered that she was lying to herself, but she folded her hands on her lap and turned toward him. “I’ve been seen most of my life as a girl who only spent her father’s money on needless things.”

“And starting a makeup company proves you’re serious?”

Sighing, she stood up and walked toward their balcony. Without a thought, she threw open the doors and looked out at the ocean that surrounded them. James raced outside and stared around for any snipers. She should have waited. Once he was done and closed the door to not let the air-conditioning escape, she stood at the edge, and looked down at the white, sandy beach. “You make money at your passion. My passion is in makeup and fashion, but I can’t sew. I am good at mixing ingredients and chemistry, though, and I designed every product with my name on it myself. It’s not a celebrity endorsement where someone else does everything, I’m serious about my work.”

“I take you seriously.” James put his hand on her back, and his touch sent a jolt through her. If he kissed her here, it would be idyllic.

She stared at his lips. “Doubtful.”

He sighed and then turned toward the ocean. “No one in years has seemed more genuine or determined to me, and you had no idea what I inherited.”

“I’m losing my mind.” She shouldn’t be thinking about kissing him, not after the lesson she’d tried and failed to teach him in there. Now it felt like her actions had teased herself more than anything else. She leaned against the white awning of the balcony to peer down again. The view really was beautiful and she could not say she was disappointed.

He turned. “Nothing dinner and a few glasses of wine won’t help you with. Would you want to get to know me over dinner?”

Being friends with James would be good start, and she needed to drop all the assumptions she’d made about him. Besides, the investor she most wanted to meet was older and probably not going to mingle in the early evening. Spending the rest of the evening with James would be good. She nodded. “Sounds lovely. Tomorrow we’ll find my investors, as the conference officially begins then.”

“Good.” He opened the door to go in.

The last thing she’d do was let him control her entirely. She lifted her nose, smelled the scent of testosterone and home, and said, “Get changed. I’ll order us room service.”

He went to take a shower while she ordered the food. She also tidied the room, picking up the scattered aftermath of throwing her clothes everywhere. Once she was done, she heard the shower turn off and someone knock on the door at the same time. She called out to James. “There’s someone at the door.”

If someone wanted to kill her, knocking on her hotel room door and getting her to open it would be a rather easy way. She hugged her waist, sat near the desk, and felt cold until James opened the bathroom door. He strolled past her, wrapped in nothing but a towel.

The sight of him warmed her. She turned away so he wouldn’t see how she was affected by his presence. Being attracted to her temporary husband was never part of the plan.

James checked the door, then let in a hotel employee, who pushed in a cart with food dishes. She stood up from the desk and walked to the small patio table to direct the server outside.

They were in Grand Bohemia. For one night, she could let the breeze brush against them, and hope that it might quell her growing libido. The other thing that might stop her dreams of James was the real version of him and not the fantasy she’d constructed in her head. Maybe he ate with his mouth open or had some other disgusting habit.

She tipped the server and he left. Once the door closed, Scarlett watched as James inside the room riffle through his bag, pull out some clothes and stepped into a pair of sweat pants without any underwear and pulled on a light green shirt. She clutched her pendant and pretended not to watch.

Alone, for dinner. She hugged her waist and pretended another kiss wasn’t exactly what she wanted. Outside on the patio, as the sun set, they were about to eat a candlelight dinner. She swallowed and stared at the table when he returned. “James. I’m sorry. I thought you were just a cute but broke bodyguard and then I was so angry at my brother.”

“I should have told you who I was.”

“Yes, then I wouldn’t have teased you. It wasn’t my best laid-out plan.”

He massaged her arms and she lowered them.

“You confuse me,” he said.

“I have been hot and cold. I can be nicer.”

“I liked that you had no idea who I was.” He sat back. “It’s just that everyone knows me these days, so it was refreshing when you told me exactly what you thought I was.”

“If Bernie was your uncle, then you’re a billionaire ten times over, like my dad and my brother. I wanted to break free of them.”

He hugged her and she let him hold her.

Neither of them moved. In his arms, she felt like the world disappeared.

“At least your family loves you. I never knew my uncle or my father. They don’t matter.”

She looked up and stared at his chin and face. He was right, she always knew that her parents adored her. “Do you blame them for your mother being poor?”

He let her go. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“James, life is life.” She stepped away from him and toward the ocean in the distance, warm air kissing her skin. It only made her body more wanton, and her nipples would have shown through her dress if not for the bra she’d snuck on while picking up her clothes. Right now she needed to help him. “We can’t change the past. If I could, I know I’d be more like my sister Olivia and at least appear to be more of a problem-solver than a party girl.”

“Scarlett, you’re many things, but I’d bet money you solve your own problems. Who are you here to meet and why?”

This couldn’t be clearer. Their relationship was based on business, and she needed to remember that. He led her to the table and pulled out her chair for her.

“I’m here to meet Max Shepard,” she said as she sat down. “He’s the former CEO of FactorM cosmetics. Right now, though, let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

He slipped into the seat opposite her. “Me too, for more than food.”

Between those blue eyes of his, the candlelight, and the waves crashing onto the beach below, tonight was going to be a night anything might happen. Right now, she just wanted James to throw the food aside and kiss her.

Chapter 5

Scarlett gazed at James from across the table. He was everything she never wanted, with the body and soul of the man she always dreamed of. Her face blushed as she remembered his muscular frame, fresh out of the shower, strutting past to open the door.

She picked up her glass of wine and lowered her lashes. “I’m glad we’re starting over. I know you’re friends with Gabe. How did the two of you meet in the Marines?”

He wiped his lips with his napkin and dropped it on his knee. “We were assigned to the same unit. Between your brother, Colt Collins, Conner Udine, and Harrison Hughes, I thought I was stuck babysitting the children of billionaires at first. It made me bitter and angry and I wasn’t that nice to your brother.”

The image of someone not just blindly agreeing with the brilliant Gabe made her giggle, though she knew if she shared the memory she was thinking of, she’d sound ten years younger than she was. “Gabe deserved a little wrath for years of torturing me.”

He leaned closer and the reaction in his eyes made her heart beat faster. “What did he do to you?”

She mimicked his actions and drew closer. “As a boy, he cut the hair off all my dolls just to watch me cry.”

A smile broke out on his face. He winked at her and adjusted his chair to sit closer. “And what did you do in response?”

The nearness of him made her body feel ready for his every touch. “I broke my own things and then let my parents think he did it.”

He laughed. “So that’s why he called you princess.”

“Guilty.” The heat in her cheeks grew as she shared stories of exactly who she no longer wanted to be, but regressed into when near her family. “What about you? Tell me a story from your childhood.”

He reached out and took her hand. “Scarlett, I don’t have sibling stories that show I’m close to anyone. I’ve been alone for years now.”

The notes of a slow song she loved wafted up from below. Not wanting the mood to sour, she stood up and held her hand out. “Dance with me.”

“Why not?”

He stood up too, taking her hand and pulling her close. The moment he wrapped his arms around her for a waltz, she smelled the pine scent of home. She relaxed and followed his lead. “James, you’re not what I expected. I feel whole here, in your arms.”

“Scarlett, you’re softer and sweeter than I was led to believe.”

“You heard that from my brother.” Anyone would be softer and sweeter than expected if the description came from Gabe, she thought. James spun her on her heels, and as her hand met his once more in the dance, she spoke again. “He still thinks I’m fourteen and the brat I was.”

James shrugged as he showed off his waltzing skills. “Is that a sibling thing? I wouldn’t know. I grew up feeling like my military unit was my family, before Maddox reminded me that was an illusion.”

Maddox went after Gabe’s family because he had wanted to steal computer files and was jealous that Gabe was smart enough to figure out how to stop his own computer virus that Maddox had stolen in the desert years ago.

“Where did you learn to dance then?” His hand trailed lower, onto the small of her back, and fireworks exploded inside her. If only this was happening inside their room and on the bed, though she wouldn’t say that out loud.

“In the Miami clubs, before I was rich. Girls like men who can dance.”

“Got it. So you were a relentless one-night stand.”

“All that from dancing?”

“Isn’t that what happens in the club?”

James could have anyone he wanted, and must have on more than one occasion, but he held her close now. For tonight, they were all that mattered. She pressed her nose into his shoulder, letting the feeling of home wash through her for a second. “What happened with Maddox and my brother and you?”

He stopped swaying and let her go. He ran his hand through his hair, like he wanted to forget the memory. “Someone didn’t put a few assault weapons and a grenade launcher back, then they were found in my possession. Your brother went to the MPs when they were arresting me and stood up for me. Then, just like that, the MPs dropped the charges.”

MP meant military police, from what she overheard from her brother. She held her wrist and swallowed at the loss of his touch, goose bumps growing on her arms. For tonight, with no buildings around them, they were safe and she could relax. She leaned against the wall and stared at the night sky. “What did my brother say?”

“That he saw me put the weapons in the right place and someone was framing me. They took his word.” James stood next to her and also leaned on the wall, staring at the stars and the moon that seemed to beam brighter than usual tonight.

She turned and realized the blue of the faded sky now almost matched his eyes. She licked her lips and wished he’d kiss her. “But not yours?”

“I never said anything.” He lifted his chin.

“Everyone always believes Gabe. He’s the perfect one.”

“He’s also a stand-up guy who I trust and respect.”

“So I’m off limits forever then, because Gabe is my brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if I decide to divorce him?”

“You can’t divorce siblings. It’s not a marriage.”

“Well you should. How else will you kiss me again?”

“The last time…”

“Don’t deny this.” She pushed her hair behind her ears and whispered exactly how she felt. “James, do you feel anything between us?”

“Scarlett, I shouldn’t,” he said as he left the wall and leaned over her.

Her eyes closed and her lips parted. “I shouldn’t either. I don’t want to ever bring home someone my parents might like.”

“Why?” He stopped.

The reason made her sound like the child she was, and she shouldn’t think like that. She lowered her head.

“Guess I’m not as mature as I pretend.” She looked up again. “I just want to keep them at arm’s length until I prove that I can be successful without them, like Gabe.”

“Your brother is a computer genius.”

This wasn’t going to get her that kiss. She sighed. “No one would put genius and my name together, but I’m tenacious.”

He stroked her chin, leaning in closer. “And beautiful.”

“I am?” She closed her eyes.

“And tempting, and delicious, and my wife.”

His lips met hers again, and she felt like she was in heaven itself. Yes, they were married. And together.

“Don’t make me wait,” she said.

He picked her up like she weighed nothing and carried her off the balcony, into their hotel room. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He carried her all the way to their bed. This was it. She kept her arms around him and held him close until she stumbled onto the bed.

Right now she had to have him, and he was hers for the night. She climbed onto the mattress while he stripped off his t-shirt and dropped his sweat pants.

Quickly, she unwrapped her dress and tugged off her bra. He joined her in the bed just as she finished undressing, and her entire body grew warm with desire until he pressed himself on top of her. The weight of him made her feel wanted. He pushed her hair out of her face. “You’re beautiful, Scarlett.”

Another kiss rocked her entire body as she wrapped herself around him. The moment he broke the kiss, she needed him again. She needed far more of him. She wanted it all. She sighed. “You already said that.”

“I should say it every day.”

His lips trailed lower down her body to suck on her nipples. The way he flicked the nipple inside his lips made her ache with wanting as she lost her ability to think and reached out to hold him. She moaned, and he pushed her hands out of his thick coarse hair.

“Put your hands behind your head.”

No one ordered her around. She followed his directions, albeit reluctantly. “Why?”

“Gives me access to your chest,” he said.

At his words, she felt lost in a sea of desire. Every part of her was sensitive, needy, and ready for him. He went to her other breast, leaving the first one aching with need, as his hand checked her apex. She knew he could tell she was ready—not that she could say anything.

“Push your legs apart.”

“Yes, sir.” Somehow the words spilled from her lips. She had no idea how they could be this good together, this fast, but she welcomed the weight of him.

Then he pushed inside of her with a moan.

“Ahh, James!” No one had ever made her feel like this. With him she was whole.

“You took all of me,” he said as he set the rhythm.

“Mmmhmm.”

Nothing else could be said. This was perfect. She was owned, and she loved every moment.

“You’re mine,” he said as he quickened their pace, sending her eyes rolling backwards in her head. This must be why the French called an orgasm la petite mort, because every part of her felt present, but unconscious. James Clancy was the best she’d ever had.

Chapter 6

James woke up slowly and propped his head up and stared at Scarlett, the gorgeous blonde who laid beside him on the pillow next to his. She held his hand under the sheets even as she slept. Her soft skin on his calloused fingers made him feel like a brute. Last night she had taken all of him inside her.

Most women weren’t that capable.

She stirred, and his thoughts quieted. She opened her blue eyes and he felt at peace in a way he never usually did. Withdrawing her hand, she tugged the sheets higher before she stretched. “Good morning.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a morning person.” He narrowed his eyes and glared at her, as she sat up and stretched more.

A moment later she bent down and kissed his nose, and he couldn’t even pretend to be angry anymore. “Guilty as charged.”

“Don’t feel guilty around me, ever,” he said, as his heart sped up. There was a vulnerability in every move she made.

She reached for her bag while still holding the sheet to protect her modesty, which was funny considering he’d seen every inch of her delicious body last night. As she dug through her bag, she said, “Last night I was angry with you for lying to me about who you were.”

He reached out and pressed his hand to her shoulder. “I didn’t lie.”

“You weren’t forthcoming.” She brushed him off, then slipped a nightgown over her head.

“You made assumptions, and you know what they say about people who do that.” He got up, not caring that he was naked, and walked over to his own bag.

“What do they say?”

He looked over his shoulder at her and saw how she stared at his backside. Grabbing his boxer briefs, he put them on as he tried to think of how to word it delicately. “That those who make them are the first three letters of the word.”

Her lips parted. “That’s not nice to say.”

He shrugged, then came back to sit next to her on the bed.. “Either way, I was attracted to you far more than I usually am.” His eyebrows arched, and their shoulders touched. “And it had nothing to do with my money.”

“Impossible. I didn’t know you had money until yesterday.” She tucked her hair behind her ears and came closer.

Since he’d found out he had money, he never once believed the women who would have once turned their noses up at him were suddenly wanting to be in his bed. As a poor teenager, girls had been interested in fun and him. As a billionaire, he hadn’t met a single socialite interested first in fun or him. Everyone had an agenda. He stood. “And before that you were dismissive and bossy.”

She followed him, staying on his heels. “I was fighting my attraction to you.”

Her big blue eyes were a beacon of hope and understanding he’d never fall for, and many women had tried to get his attention. He crossed his arms. “Don’t go falling in love with me, Scarlett.”

“I won’t.” She rolled her eyes and opened her suitcase again. This time, she found a dress and held it up in the morning light. “I’ve been on that train before.”

Train? Love? She hadn’t even blinked at what he said. Perhaps she misunderstood. He lowered his arms. “What do you mean?”

“Wait.” She laid the dress on the bed and dug sandals out from her bag and jewelry from her pocketbook. Finished she ran to the bathroom to clean up.

James was reading the newspaper in bed, still half naked when she returned in her towel. She put diamond studs in her earlobes as she looked at him again. “When a guy says ‘don’t go falling in love with me,’ it’s usually because he’s half in love with me already.”

“Haughty doesn’t even begin to describe you.” He rubbed his chin and considered her while she fastened a necklace around her neck. A high opinion of herself made sense. She was beautiful, though her delicate movements made him see her as vulnerable too.

She looked away from him for a moment. Again he saw a flash of something more underneath, and not for the first time thought that she hid who she really was.

“We both know what I said is the truth and, for the record, I don’t need your money,” she said. “We’re here to help my career.”

Something was bothering her. Her slight trembles made her seem almost stricken. Was it what had happened between them? He opened his bag and grabbed a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt to wear. “True, but we shouldn’t have slept together. That was my mistake.”

“The marks you left tell me you enjoyed yourself.”

For a woman who often seemed bashful, her words were the opposite. He tugged the shirt over his shoulders. “Scarlett, it’s been a while for me, but I should have controlled myself.”

“I won’t tell anyone.” She lowered her head but he saw her face became red.

If she wasn’t upset about last night, then he had no clue what could be bothering her. He took his turn in the bathroom and cleaned himself up because honestly he was unsure of what to say. The moment he tugged his pants on, his phone rang, the sound echoing through the silence of their hotel room. He returned to his bag, found his phone, and checked the caller ID. “Your brother is calling.”

She waved her hand in the air. “Tell him I’m safe.”

His gaze stayed on her as she wiggled into her dress. It would seem she’d not only taken all of him inside her, but had suffered no ill effect.

“Hey,” Gabe said, calling James’ attention away from the sight in front of him. “We arrested Maddox Murdock last night. Until we confirm he was working alone, please watch my sister.”

Not watching Scarlett might be a bigger issue. But he thought about what had happened in the desert. Images of how he had fought for his life while an unknown man kicked him in the face practically blasted into the present moment, like a ghost. He blinked and they were gone. “Years ago, he had partners.”

“Did we ever find out who they were?”

“No.” The unknown assailant hadn’t been in the military that he and Harrison both fought and lost against, and had never been discovered. His own commander thought he’d made up the ninja fighting story.

“Then keep Scarlett safe until we know more.”

No harm would come to his wife under his watch, though he couldn’t quite say that to Gabe. “Not a problem.”

“Thanks.”

Gabe hung up. For a moment James kept the phone to his ear, then said to dead air, “Bye.”

He looked over at Scarlett, who had walked over to him at some point during the conversation with Gabe. She lightly bit her lower lip then let it go. “What did he say?”

The air smelled like roses near her, just like her pillow. No one was going to get to her. He’d made that promise, and meant it still. “That Maddox Murdock was arrested.”

A smile grew on her face. “So you’re free of your bodyguard duties.”

“No.” His gut churned as he imagined that anything might harm her. Another flash of the desert—how an assassin had knocked him down when he tried to reach for Gabe. Maddox had help then and he might have help now. A coldness enveloped him. He wouldn’t let someone attack from behind again. “He might have had partners.”

“But he might be working alone, so your job could be done.”

She had no memories of what had happened to him or her brother in the desert. “We don’t know that yet.”

She pointed to his pants, still lying on the bed where he’d left them. “Guess you have to get dressed then.”

“Why?”

He tugged the pants on as she adjusted her dress hem so it was straight. “I need to go mingle at this conference, and it sounds like you’re coming with me.”

“Scarlett, I haven’t been myself with you.” He slipped on his sneakers, wondering for a moment if he should just take her back to bed and keep her there, as a way to keep her safe.

She walked toward the door, and he came to his senses.

“Don’t pop my bubble, James. I’m feeling good, but I want to know why you married me. Don’t say it was to ‘protect me,’ because clearly it was more.”

With her hand on the door’s handle, he could see she wanted to leave. It was probably best to give her an answer she’d accept right now. “I won’t get married to anyone out of love, but if I get divorced, then people might leave me alone and stop trying to pimp their daughters out to me just because I have money.”

“Welcome to our world.” She swung open the door, but he stopped her from walking out. Stepping in front of her, he surveyed the surroundings. “That plan might work for a year or two, but then you’ll be seen as a possibility by all those searching for a billionaire.”

She might be right, but he didn’t say anything and walked outside to scope the area as the hall had an open area that gave them a clear view of the ceiling and the lobby. No one was above them. He looked down. Nobody there either. Satisfied, he motioned for her to walk next to him, near the wall. She closed the door behind her and they walked toward the elevator as light samba music played on the speakers. Once they made it to the elevator, she pressed the down button. James stood beside her to ensure no one joined them while he made small talk. “So, do you really want to go to work?”

“What are you suggesting?”

The elevator arrived with a ding, and the second the doors opened, his heart sped up. It would be better if they never left the honeymoon suite. Quickly, he put his hands on Scarlett’s sides, stopping her from getting inside. Then he leaned forward. “You. Me. The patio. I’ll let you look over the resort while I take you again.”

A smile spread across her face as her cheeks grew rosy. “That sounds naughty.”

“I never said I was a good boy.” He pressed his lips to hers.

If sunshine and goodness could be replicated in a human taste, it would be the closest way to describe how Scarlett made him feel.

The moment the kiss ended, she rubbed her stomach. She clearly hadn’t felt the earth move like he had. “I realize that. Either way, I’m hungry. If you take me to breakfast and we mingle a little bit, we can come back here and I promise to do whatever you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He used his shoulder to block her from sight so no one might see her.

She held out her hand as the doors closed. “Deal.”

“Then let’s get going.” The sooner he had her in the room, the sooner he’d know she was absolutely safe. Scarlett was his now, and he’d like to keep it that way. For this trip or, quite possibly, for the rest of his life.

Chapter 7

Scarlett fidgeted with the pendant around her neck as they walked to the ballroom. James was right behind her, and she could practically feel his stare as she swung her hips.

Last night had been the best sex she’d ever had, but she could never tell him that. He was already too bossy. So instead, she adjusted her pendant until she had to let it go.

At the door to the ballroom where the conference was gathered, she waited for him to open it for her. Once he did, she linked her arm with his and remembered that she was here for a reason. Her mission had nothing to do with the sex that she’d prioritized over her own sanity yesterday.

The smell of eggs and bacon hit her hard as they went toward a table. Clearly this hot breakfast offer had tempted all the convention-goers. People were sitting at round tables with white linen cloths, talking to each other.

At the last second before they took a seat, Scarlett noticed Max Shepard. She had been waiting on his final offer for two days. She guided James’ arm and they made their way between the tables.

On the way, Braddock stood up and shook James’ hand. James glanced at her, and they stopped moving to chat. “Max, it’s so nice to see you again,” she said.

He barely nodded at her. “Scarlett.”

Then he put his hand on the shoulder of a handsome, black-haired man about her age, with a smile like her father’s. “Mr. Clancy, allow me to introduce Navid Barampour. He’s with AMH.”

James’ arm became tight, but she refused to look at him. Instead she looked at the dark-haired man with light blue eyes, who seriously looked like her father in his pictures from forty years ago, though with more olive in his skin. Navid was clearly light skinned mideastern but with clear blue eyes, he was clearly mixed. She held out her hand to shake. “I’ve never heard of your company.”

Navid shook her hand but stared unabashedly at James. “We’re a very exclusive tech company.”

They knew each other. Her hair stood on end. James tugged her and tried to lead her to the exit. “Let’s go, Scarlett.”

Navid quickly walked away without saying goodbye. Braddock went to the buffet for a second plate.

“Why are you on edge?” She let go of his arm. Shepard was so close, and she had to remember her life goals were more important than sex. After this month, she’d have no claim on James, despite how that thought made her stomach churn.

“I’m not.”

James glared back at Navid, who had clearly got under his skin. She reached out and squeezed his arm to make a point.

“Your muscles are tight.” She’d never admit she was jealous, not even a little bit. She came closer. “Did you notice that James always calls me by my first name with that slur of his, while you’re ‘Mister’? The patriarchy drives me crazy sometimes.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Shepard refill his coffee. Her heart raced. Business came first. “His company might be double the size of mine, but I have a long-term growth plan and his is stagnant.”

“This way, Scarlett.” James tried to lead her to the door again. She saw him glance at Navid again with a steely expression in his gaze.

She pressed herself closer and could smell the testosterone that made her body crave him, even more than breakfast. She let out a sigh. “I don’t have time to leave because you clearly don’t like someone.”

“That’s not the problem.” The words made her body instantly feel lighter, but then she deflated as he finished, “Navid worked with Maddox years ago.”

Navid was like the male version of her father, and Maddox had tried to kill her parents and her brother. The two facts didn’t make sense together, but Maddox was why James had come into her life. She stilled, and fiddled with her necklace again. “How do you know?”

He pointed to his abdomen. “Navid broke this rib with one kick.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened as she remembered how she’d kissed every inch of James’ skin, but then she felt her face heat, and glanced away.

“Don’t look interested,” he warned, and placed his hand on her back to get her to leave. “He’s not the guy for you.”

Navid’s gaze was too familiar. There was no reason for James to be jealous. She stopped. They were so close to her goal, and it was unlikely she’d be shot down in the middle of a crowd. She swayed on her feet and hoped James stayed next to her in case she made a horrible call. “Navid didn’t look that dangerous.”

“His gaze has haunted me for years now.”

“His gaze or his kick?” She glanced over at Navid, who stared back at both of them. Again the feeling of peace hit her, and she couldn’t believe for a second he’d hurt her.

He led her toward the door. “Let’s go to our room.”

“I can’t.” She stepped away from him. If she could just conclude her business, then she could stay out of sight with James. She pointed to the older man at a table. “I’m here to meet with Max Shepard. We have a deal on the table.”

James slowed her down. “I can get your makeup into any store in the world.”

“I’m not using Clancy Industries, ever.” She shook her head like that might stop what he said.

“You’re the CEO’s wife.”

“For a month.” And only because she hadn’t done a simple online search, like she usually did for everything in her life. If she’d known, she probably wouldn’t have insisted on a wedding. She held her head higher. “All the more reason to strike out on my own.”

James stopped short. “Navid’s sitting over there,” she said, tugging his arm. “It’s doubtful he’ll kill us here where everyone is eating.”

“Two minutes,” he warned, and shook his head, though he must have realized they had already talked for more than two minutes. But she held that thought.

She tugged on his arm and they walked toward the older gentleman, who stood up as they approached. She smiled as they joined him. “Mr. Clancy. Ms. Hawke. It’s good to see you both.”

James pulled out a chair for Scarlett, and they both sat next to the gentleman. “Scarlett is my wife, Shepard.”

A huge smile grew on Max Shepard’s face, and he said, “That’s news. Congratulations.”

James wrapped his arms around her.

“Thank you,” she said. “We’re very happy.”

Shepard shook his head. “I’m sure I can’t match whatever Clancy offered you, Ms. Hawke.”

Clancy Industries had a powerful marketing arm that could get products everywhere, sure, but her relationship with James wasn’t going to last. It was better to build her own network. She let go of James and held out her hand to offer a handshake. “Sundarata wasn’t part of the wedding deals. I still want to make the best deal possible for my company, and I had been looking forward to seeing your final offer.”

Shepard reached out and shook her hand. “I’ll have my secretary finish it by the end of the week.”

“Thank you, Max.” At least her mission here was a success. Hopefully the contract from Max Shepard was good, but she probably needed to get a backup offer from Braddock, just in case.

James rubbed her spine so she turned toward him. Navid and James had been in a staring contest, but it seemed like Navid had ended the moment first when he spoke to a server about refilling his coffee. James leaned closer to her and whispered, “Let’s go, Scarlett.”

“What?” Her heart raced as she saw the final cold stare between the two. With a nod toward him, Navid walked out the door. It should have been easier to breathe, but it wasn’t.

James pulled on her arm, again. “Let’s go.”

“Why? I’m hungry?”

“We’ll get room service. I don’t like letting the enemy know where you are.”

“Okay, whatever.” This time, she gave in. She’d accomplished her most important reason for joining the conference, and she valued her head attached to her body. Her spine felt more rigid, but she tried to pretend otherwise. “Okay, it was good seeing you, Max.”

James led her out a different door than they’d entered, which took them outside. The sound of ocean waves splashing onto the shore echoed in her ears, while the sunlight warmed the darkness settling over her. He led her forward.

“Where are we going?”

“This way.” The brightness of the sun made her eyesight dim for a moment when they went onto the beachfront patio. He kept the pace and went down to the beach to walk. She wasn’t dressed for sand in these heels, but he led her forward, but stayed near the building.

She tried to pretend his pace didn’t matter to her and that she was safe. “The beach is pretty, but I’m not dressed, and you promised breakfast.”

“Something isn’t right and I don’t know what it is. From the lobby or any floor, anyone can see our door. There is a back elevator over here for the staff that is safer.”

The buzz in the air became automated and time seemed to slow down as something raced next to her head. She blinked and realized she’d been shot at.

James shoved her out of the way. “Go.”

Yes. Her fingers dug into his skin and he pulled her toward the docks. She ran as fast as she could and jumped onto the first yacht she saw. He jumped onto the same ship. She could hardly breathe. “Why is someone shooting? Is it Navid?”

“We have to leave.” He made his way toward the cabin.

Inside, she’d be less likely to be shot. “Untie the rope or we’re not going anywhere.”

While he went to untie them from the dock, she raced into the control cabin and turned on the engine. On the monitor she saw James complete his task and without waiting another second, she drove the yacht out of its berth. When he entered the control cabin, James seemed surprised. “You know how to operate this thing?”

“Clearly.” Her family never went without, and that included yacht trips to the Caribbean as weekend getaways.

“The conference is over.” He took the seat beside her.

She made a tsk sound, but didn’t say anything else. A backup offer wasn’t worth losing her head over when her gut told her Braddock wouldn’t be a good investor. She drove further out to sea, but then looked at the gauges. “Our passports are in the hotel room.”

“How much gas do we have?”

They couldn’t dock at any US port in a stolen boat, and they’d need more gas to get to the nearest island.

“In our stolen yacht? About half. It won’t get us to the next island.”

He nodded then pointed at the phone on the control panel. “Call Braddock, Shepard, and Sophie. Tell them we’ll see them at the conference beach party tonight I saw on your conference schedule. I find it best to blend into the crowd, but I’ll need you to do everything I say and run into the hotel. We’ll get our passports and escape before anyone realizes.”

“That party will be packed. Good idea.” They needed a plan of action. Business, and in this case running for her life, required it. She narrowed her gaze to just his strong shoulders and face. “Where do we go?”

“If I get WIFI, I can get my helicopter here and it will get us to the airport.”

“Of course. And it’s bulletproof?”

“Years? I’ve been waiting for Navid Barampour to come at me since I met him years ago.”

“You thought he’d come at you again and it wasn’t a one time encounter?”

“I’ve never been surprised attack, not even in juvie.”

“Okay then.” The sarcasm in her voice dripped, but she could breathe a little easier knowing there was a plan. The single bullet that had missed her echoed in her mind. She reached out, ignoring how her hand shook, and turned off the gas, seeing no ships near them. “Well, I don’t think his bullets were intended only for me back on the beach.”

At breakfast, Navid seemed kind. She glanced at him. “What if it wasn’t Navid who was shooting at us?”

His eyebrows arched. “Who else would it be?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.” She turned and stared at him as she clutched her seat to hold still.

“In the desert, my job was to protect your brother. Navid broke my arm, but didn’t shoot me. When Maddox appeared to have blown up and we thought he died, he almost took Gabe out. Navid turned and pulled Gabe out of the fire. I went over and helped, but then he disappeared. I don’t know his side. I don’t trust him. If he’s after you, then this is about more than just a USB with a computer program on it.”

Her brother had made his own company based on his skills, and she had nothing to do with his work. “Navid said he ran an exclusive tech company.”

“How did your father make his fortune?”

“Daddy’s company refines foreign oil and ships it to America, Canada, Great Britain, and whoever offers him the most money.”

“Did your father ever visit the Middle East?”

“Yes, all over.”

She’d never been allowed to go with him on business. He’d said it was dangerous, but he’d never said people to kill him. She thought all that was in the past and that her parents were fine, but then Maddox shot at her parents. Her throat grew cold. She let go of her chair, but reached for her pendant as she tried to process what James had said.

Besides, who else would shoot them? With luck he was right, but that might not be good. It’d be easier to defend both of them if they knew who was shooting.

James broke the silence. “We need to do research on AMH and Navid.”

“I just don’t get the sense that he’s evil. He seems nice, but I could be wrong.”

“Prince Conner Udine has access to the CIA and FBI mainframes from treaties he’s made with the US. He’ll be able to find out more information on just who Navid is now that we have his name.”

“You didn’t know his name?”

“It was a surprise attack and no in the middle of the fight, we didn’t stop and introduce ourselves.”

“Oh okay. Well how will you get it to him?”

“I have an app on my phone, courtesy of your brother, but there’s no Wi-Fi out here.”

She stood up and glanced at the controls. The ship might have a built-in system. She searched the panels and turned on what seemed most likely. Picking up a slip of paper with login info, she handed it to James. “I don’t know if I want to talk to my brother, but I want us to get home.”

“My primary objective is to get you to safety.” He patted her lower back as thanks. He quickly typed in the passwords and opened the app her brother had apparently made.

Goose bumps grew on her arms. She hugged herself, hoping they’d dissipate. Out here she was safe. She swallowed. “I trust you.”

It was the truth. James was here to protect her, and it was time she let him.

Chapter 8

The yacht docked as music blared in the evening sky. Neither of them said anything as Scarlett shut off the engine and James tied the ship in the same dock. This was the plan.

He scanned the area and gave her a thumbs up. It was time to move.

As they walked closer, she heard the screams of the crowd singing to the refrain of the song a DJ was playing on the beach. James returned to her side and offered her his hand. “Are you ready?”

She buried her face in the muscles of his shoulder. The heat from his body warmed her, though her heart raced in a different way. She stood on tiptoe and said, “No. Take me again.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What?”

A zap of energy rushed through her spine. “If I die today, I want to feel good.”

He placed his hand on the small of her back and her nerves dissipated. She took a deep breath and stared out at the evening sky. It was time. She let his fingers laced with hers remind her that she was safe.

“Scarlett,” he said, “if we make it to safety with my helicopter, I promise to rip all your clothes off and make you mine.”

A giggle escaped her lips. She held out her other hand and raised her pinkie finger. “Pinkie swear?”

“Are you twelve?” He made a tsk sound, shook her pinkie finger with his own, and a moment later reached out to open the door.

Her heart raced as she remembered the bullet from the last time. Her body refused to move and planted her feet into the ground. “Remember you pinkie swore. I’m scared, James.”

“You’ll be fine.” He opened the door and walked out first. “Okay. Let’s go.”

The spotlights of the party were on a crowd of dancing beachgoers. James held her hand and walked her into the crowd. They made a beeline toward the steps to the hotel lobby, but then someone grabbed her arm. She pulled James and they both stopped. She let go of his hand and wrapped herself around his frame as she said, “Braddock, it’s good to see you.”

He didn’t look at her again and instead spoke to James. “The party is perfect. Everyone is thankful for the open bar.”

James held her close and with his chin motioned for them to go. “I can see that. I’m just happy to celebrate our wedded bliss on the beach in an event like this.”

Her mind raced but she said, “Excuse us. We’ll be right back. I forgot my shawl for this evening.”

“See you soon,” Braddock called out. She felt her body grow cold—she was sure he only meant that for James.

Seconds later, her feet met the cold white marble stairs that led inside. She was completely exposed on her left, but then a dark shadow appeared. Within the space of a second, Navid was beside her.

James closed the door of the patio and glared at Navid.

Navid blocked her other side from anyone else coming close, and nodded his head. “James Clancy?”

James tugged her arm closer. “Navid. You need to back off. Now.”

“I’m not here to hurt either of you. I was a stupid eighteen year old boy when I last saw you, James, but that’s not for now.” Navid stayed on her other side but she walked faster toward the elevator. “I want to help you both.”

James refused to turn the corner away from the crowd in the lobby that spilled over from the bar. Scarlett swallowed and held James tight. “Why would you help?”

“Maddox is here.” Navid kept his voice low so only the two of them could hear him. “He’s deranged, and I won’t let him hurt you.”

Scarlett and James shared a look. “What?” she said. “He’s in jail.”

Navid walked forward and hit the elevator button. James held her hand, but they followed as Navid said, “He was released on bail and he’s seeking revenge against Scarlett. He said Gabe took his sister so he’s going to take on of his in revenge. I’m here to make sure he doesn’t get that chance.”

James stood in front of her looking at his phone. She assumed he was checking Navid’s background. She kept him talking. “Why would you help us?”

“He shot at your parents. I met him when I was an angry sixteen year old boy, and I believed his story then. He’s crossed too many lines and I’m not his friend or associate.” Navid crossed his arms and glared as the elevator doors opened. “I’ve not heard from him in years and now he’s here. I can’t let him hurt innocent women and not do anything.”

James pocketed his phone and nodded. Maddox must be free. Scarlett refused to lose focus on her discussion with Navid, as talking opened up possibilities. She narrowed her gaze. “You helped James before, to save my brother.”

Navid walked into the elevator and met James’ glare, again. A moment later, he focused his stare at her. She held her breath. Finally he said, “To take a file I never used, yes. I was young and angry. My father’s other children were always more important to him than me, so years ago I thought the theft was fair, but I don’t want my siblings to die because I stood aside and did nothing.”

Scarlett tugged James’ hand and they followed Navid into the elevator. “Let me understand. You’re saying that you’re my brother?”

The doors closed and James hit the button for the top floor.

“Yes, and you’re in danger.” Navid met James’ icy demeanor with ease. The light soft music of the elevator was almost the opposite of the beach party outside.

Scarlett smiled. Her heart whispered that he was her brother. He looked like her father, and memories clicked in her head of her mother crying and her father banging on the door. She let go of James and hugged Navid. He didn’t return the hug at first, but she slowly patted his back and she said, “Gabe and Olivia would love to talk to you.”

The doors opened. Navid pointed toward the open air of the hall. “I don’t have the time. James, her right side might be exposed.”

James moved slightly to block but scowled as he led her toward their room. Once they were inside, Scarlett rushed to her bag and grabbed all her things. James took three seconds to get his bag and passport off the ground, and Scarlett returned to them a second later with her wheeled bag. James took the handle without question.

She turned and bounced as she told Navid, “This is easier than I thought. I was so scared. Navid, I’m glad you’re family. If there is one thing I know about my family, it’s that love really bonds us.”

“I don’t know how you believe this.” James opened the door and she held her breath.

Navid ignored James’ comment. “Scarlett, I haven’t had the same experience, but you’re sweet. Get your pocketbook.”

Scarlett took her bag from the table and followed next to James. Navid even sounded like her father, which was more than her own brother Gabe did—he was like their mother. Another memory floated in her mind, of her father saying “I’m sorry. I swear I’ll never cheat on you again.”

In the hallway, they walked toward the elevator, but James went past and opened the stairwell doors. The loud sound of an engine and rotating blades echoed, and she knew that the helicopter was waiting for them. She walked up the steps with them, and as James led them out the door to the roof, she reached out and hugged Navid again. “This is so easy with you here. Don’t be a stranger. I want another brother.”

“Go.” The snap of a bullet pierced the air. James reached for her and tugged her away, but Navid’s body jerked. Scarlett screamed and reached out for her brother.

She screamed at the top of her lungs. “Navid, you’re shot.”

He pushed her off, pointing toward the helicopter. The turbulence made it hard to hear, but he patted her hand. “I’ll be fine. Get on the helicopter. Now.”

She reached for his hand again. She shouted against the wind. “Come with us.”

He followed, but stayed at the helicopter door. Once she was inside, he started to close it. “I’m sorry. Please tell our father I’ll pay him a visit soon.”

She reached for the handle, but James stopped her from pushing the door open. “You’re not thinking. You have to stay on this helicopter.”

Navid met James’ stare, nodded, and reached for the helicopter door again. “Don’t make me fight you again. Go and protect my sister.”

A man dressed in all black stormed onto the roof. Scarlett grabbed James’ shoulder. “Get Navid inside!”

“Go,” Navid said, and slammed the door closed. She jumped forward, but watched as Navid faded into the blackness and out of sight of the shooter as the helicopter began its ascent.

Bullets ricocheted off the metal of the helicopter. James had told her it was bulletproof, but she wasn’t quite sure bulletproof helicopters existed. At least nothing came close to them. Her skin felt cold and clammy, and her heart raced. She scanned the roof for her brother, but couldn’t see anything. She closed her eyes, sat back and prayed he was okay.

Soon they were surrounded by just ocean. She curled her legs to her body and hugged herself as she rocked in a ball.

James went to talk to the pilot.

The sound of the blades overhead didn’t comfort her. When James returned, he sat beside her and placed his hand on her knee. She inched closer and let her body relax against his. “I hate that we left him. I really believe he’s my brother.”

He put his hand on the small of her back again. Once again, his touch relaxed her. “Navid is trained. I have faith you’ll see him again.”

She let her legs go and sat straight, reaching out for him. “Hold my hand James.”

He kissed her hand. “Scarlett, I have a place in the Keys. No one will get to us there.”

Alone might be worse than a hotel. Her body trembled, but she scooted closer to him. “How can you be sure?”

“The only way on and off the island is by helicopter or ship. We’ll be safe until the police arrive.”

That hadn’t appeased her, but she hugged his neck. “And what if we do see someone?”

“My uncle installed a safe room years ago, and I’m not useless either.”

James, a safe room, and paradise. “Sounds dreamy.”

Once she was safe, she’d find out what had happened to Navid. She’d not lose her family now, but James was her rock. Another part of her was excited that they’d have a chance to be alone again.

Chapter 9

Being alone again with Scarlett was not the best idea James had ever had. The helicopter flew away as they stood on the landing pad next to his house. Technically speaking it was his uncle’s old getaway, but everything from his uncle’s estate was his now.

Scarlett would probably fit better with most of the things he’d inherited than he ever would. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turned toward her.

She clutched her pocketbook. “James?”

The pointed look at her luggage let him know what he needed to do. He untucked his hands, took her luggage, and offered his elbow in case she wanted to latch on. “Scarlett, this way.”

She wrapped her arms around his muscles, and the zap of electricity she set off in him still overwhelmed him. She made no mention of her brother or what had happened today as he opened the door for her. In the foyer, she glanced at the crystal chandelier as her heels tapped against the cappuccino marble floor. “This is absolutely gorgeous.”

“Not as pretty as you.” He placed her bags next to the table she’d set her Coach pocketbook on, and looked at his well-worn sneakers.

She wrapped her arm around his shoulder again, and her nearness made him feel invincible. “For a guy who doesn’t want a wife or a woman in his life, you really are sweet.”

“Scarlett,” he said, leading her further into his home, “no woman I ever met has been anything like you.”

Her eyes widened as they entered the formal dining area, but she didn’t even blink at the granite tables from Italy. She sucked in her breath. “What makes me so special?”

Again, her softness made him want to hold onto her and not let go, but at the same time strip her of all her clothes and claim her as his own in the most primal way possible. No girl he’d ever touched was as soft as Scarlett. He swallowed and tried to push his conflicting thoughts away. “Underneath the surface, you’re vulnerable and trying to be more than what you are.”

“I’m also a spoiled princess.” She let go of his hand and opened the veranda doors that led out to the patio. She glided toward the balcony walls and stared out to the swaying palm trees and splashing waters.

He stood beside her and folded his hands on the balcony’s railing before leaning closer. “All this time you’ve said that you’re more than that.”

She reached for her pendant and clutched it. “I want to be. The truth is I’m scared I’ll fail.”

“Shepard will send his offer.”

She looked at him, and her blue eyes shone with a brightness that betrayed her internal vulnerability. “What if it’s not good?”

Their shoulders brushed and his heart sped up. It was time to speak about his own fears too. “Scarlett, look. I inherited this huge company, and while I enjoy working with the science divisions, my shipping side needs better management. I know what it’s like to feel like you’re failing.”

She squeezed his hand and that single action made him feel everything would work out. Then she kissed his shoulder and made him feel wanted.

They watched the moonlight reflect on the ocean. Neither of them said anything as the sky became painted with silver full moon gave the waves a secret light. Everything was peaceful and beautiful for now.

Scarlett finally broke the silence.

“So, on this island, do we have to make our own food?”

He turned, admiring how her hair seemed more golden in the evening light. He could feel the instinct to claim her and ravage her rising again, so he held himself stiff and turned toward the house. “My staff should have left plenty of supplies.”

“So you’re cooking it?” She giggled, clearly with no idea of the effect she had on him. She bumped playfully into his shoulder. “I’ve always wanted a man who would make my dinner.”

“Funny.”

His fingers ached to rip the dress off her and suckle on her breasts until she begged him to stop. Then he’d push himself hard inside her until she lost all control.

“Show me around.” Unaware of his thoughts, she strolled into his house.

Once he put his growing erection on ice, he followed. She was inside the door already so he jogged and caught up. “Fair enough. This is the kitchen.”

Banality would help keep him in check. He led her into the kitchen and surveyed what was in the refrigerator. Neither of them had eaten much today. The chicken, lemons, capers and mushrooms would blend together for a fast meal.

She glanced in the refrigerator after him. “Lovely, we have enough supplies to last us for a while. Can’t wait to see what you come up with for me to eat.”

“You’ll have to wait and see. Come.” He walked away as she came too close. She needed to stay away, for her own protection. He waved for her to follow, and once she was near the bay windows with him he said, “This is the living area, which has a nice view of the Atlantic.”

She went down a step and then inched closer to the furniture. “I’d love to curl up with a book on that couch.”

Books. He never came here, so he’d never had a reason to stock up on anything like books. He shrugged. “You can look around for a book, but I doubt we have any paperbacks here. You can use my iPad.”

“My sister Olivia might have died from that statement. She loves reading more than talking.”

“Glad it’s just you and me here then.”

Some distance would be good for both of them. She was Gabe’s sister, and what happened last night could be thrown up as a one-night stand. Scarlett deserved someone better than him. She deserved someone who could protect her and be worthy of her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” she said. “Where are we sleeping?”

We implied she thought they were going to be sleeping together. His body hardened again, so he walked past her and led her down the hall. “The guest room is here.”

She didn’t blink, but also didn’t go inside. Glancing down the hall, she continued her leisurely stroll toward his room. “And where is the master bedroom?”

“Here.” He pointed though she had already opened the door.

They both peered at the king-size bed in the center of the room. She held her wrist in front of her and nodded. “Then we’ll sleep here.”

“You don’t have to.” If she touched him, he thought he’d drill her so hard that she’d lose the ability to focus. But he kept that thought to himself.

She walked to the bed and felt the mattress, then glanced up at him with a smile on her face. “It’s not about having to do anything. I want to.”

“Are you sure?”

He kissed her. Hard.

“Yum.” She said as he took a breath, but then he kissed her again.

Her sweet lips tasted like the nectar of the gods spoken of in stories, and he wanted nothing more than to lick every part of her. A soft sigh echoed in his ear, and he let her go.

That grin of hers had undone him. She wasn’t as independent as she pretended to be. How nervous she was came through in her gaze, and made him want to keep her safe.

He walked toward the door. He needed to figure out what he wanted from her. If he took her, he’d have to explain himself to Gabe. He let that thought simmer, but said nothing else.

She followed him to the door. “Tell you what, I’ve had a long day. I’ll get us something to eat. You get the wine, and after we eat, we’ll see what happens. I don’t want pressure for anything else today.”

“Scarlett, you deserve to be happy, and get a diamond ring from a man you adore and who is worthy of you.” He chose his words carefully, because he wouldn’t let his guest cook for him. He could handle dinner. Walking into the kitchen, he took out what he needed to make stir-fry. “You get the wine.”

“I already have a diamond ring, and it’s lovely.” Without another word, she took out green beans and a pot. Clearly she wanted to do something in the kitchen as well, and he wasn’t going to stop her.

He raised his eyebrow. “You bought that yourself.”

“I have the best taste, always have.” She batted her eyes and shrugged her shoulders like he should agree. “Even if you’d gone to the store for me, it would have been this one in the end, so I saved us both some time.”

“There’s that healthy ego of yours.” He shook his head, then put heated the frying pan and reached for a few ingredients in the refrigerator.

She stood next to him at the stove and looked at the pan. “What are you cooking?”

“Lemon and walnut chicken stir-fry.” He added a splash of olive oil to hear the crackle of oil and added in the vegetables. If there was one thing he knew how to do that impressed all his dates, it was cooking. It helped him figure out everything else in his life.

“I’m impressed.” She sniffed the air.

He stirred as she stared at him. Her nearness made him want her, but there was also a sweetness to her presence that made him want more than just sex. It was in her gaze, but there was no way she would love him. But he’d never say that. Then he heard the peas snap in the pan that she wasn’t watching. He pointed to it. “What’s your side dish?”

“Shoot.” She blinked and lifted the lid as she took the pot off the burner. Then she sucked on her bottom lip. “Slightly burnt canned peas?”

Most of the peas would be fine, just the ones near the pan were ruined. He took the pot from her and shook the peas into his pan. “We’ll just add that to the stir-fry. Don’t worry about it.”

Once he was done, she scrubbed the pot and put it on the dryer rack without being asked. A minute later, she bumped into him and said, “Then I’ll get the wine and plates prepared.”

“Sounds good.” He wanted to kiss her. Once she left, the air near him felt colder. He turned up the heat and finished cooking.

When the stir-fry was done, he put it on a serving tray and carried it out to meet her. She had already poured them both wine and was enjoying the full moon in the night sky. She turned and said, “Wow. Smells delicious.”

His face felt hot, even though stir-fry wasn’t that impressive. If they were on a date at his actual home and he cooked for them, he’d have prepared a feast. “It’s nothing. This was fast, and you said you were hungry.”

He scooped the stir-fry onto both of their plates and set the rest in the middle. She pointed toward the ocean. “Dinner with this view, and no one wants to shoot at me. This is amazing.”

She was fun, enticing and easy to talk to. They ate in silence for a bit and then, when he was no longer hungry, he asked, “How do you know Navid is your brother? You accepted it without question.”

She lowered her fork and her face blushed as she looked down. “If he is my brother, then my father never told me or my siblings, but I think he might have told my mom.”

Gabe had never responded to his text about Navid, but then again he wasn’t sure it sent from the helicopter. He ought to check, but that wasn’t important right now. He brushed some of Scarlett’s blonde hair out of her face. “What makes you think that?”

She put her fork down and reached for his hand. “I remember some small things, like when I was a little girl, my parents didn’t talk for a few years. I always felt if I did something, they might laugh or cry or say something to each other, and then like magic the tension would go away. Everything became better when my father stayed home more and stopped flying everywhere, though.”

If Scarlett’s father had a child, he’d ensure it was taken care of and not left alone—not like he was. He tried to understand. “So your father knew about Navid?”

“I don’t know,” she said, “but I do think my parents worked out some issues between them twenty years ago, and now that I’m an adult I am pretty sure it was an affair.”

If her mother was anything like Scarlett, cheating was foolish. He didn’t know her parents, but he could be there for Scarlett. If his uncle had reached out to his mother, even once, she might be alive, and he wouldn’t have so much bitterness built up inside his gut. The bitterness was what kept him from her joy and warmth. “When this is all over and you can go home, you should ask them.”

“Oh, I will.” She placed her napkin on the table and stood up, holding out her hand. “Take me to bed and make love to me all night long, James. I need you.”

He lost the ability to fight his attraction for her in the face of that request. He stood up and reached under her knees to pick her up. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He lifted her and she kissed him as he carried her toward their bed.

Chapter 10

Scarlett woke up to James shaking her. She moaned, but he shouted, “Get up.”

The air sparked and then it felt like something buzzed past her as the window shattered. James threw himself over her and rolled them off the bed. He put his shirt and boxers on and his clothes scratched her naked skin. She grabbed her bra and underwear from the floor near her bed. “What was that?”

He led her toward the door and shoved her into the hall as he closed the door behind him. “Someone landed. Follow me.”

“James, you’re bleeding!” She glanced backwards, but he pushed her forward. She walked but tugged her underwear on. A second later, he pressed a button and opened the wall across from the guest bedroom. She tightened her bra and ran.

Bullet holes laced the bedroom door and she threw herself onto the ground. He turned and grabbed her arm to drag her inside. “Scarlett, get in!”

It must be the promised safe room.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a man with brown eyes. The walls around her seemed to reverberate with coldness. She couldn’t even scream, but in a second she was in total darkness. Her entire body became petrified and she couldn’t think anything except James has to be here.

If she could open her lips, she’d call out for James. First she needed the ability to breathe. She tried to get up but wobbled. In a flash, she heard a bang. “James? Where are you?”

“Hold on,” James shouted, and she heard metal bolts locking together.

Safe room. Safe. They would be fine.

She repeated the words in her head, but stayed on the ground hugging her knees to her until the lights flickered on. Her hands shook, but she could breathe easier once she saw the blue hue of his gaze. “James, is this the safe room?”

“Yes. Maddox could drop a nuclear bomb on us and we’ll survive. My uncle was paranoid, thankfully.”

A bunker on a tropical island. She rubbed her arms to get rid of the goose bumps and to stop shaking. “What if we drown?”

His gaze narrowed and he stopped moving. “How?”

“A bunker on an island can’t be underground and islands are at low sea levels.”

Okay, that sounded more like science fiction now that she’d said that out loud, but her mind wasn’t clear right now. She clutched a table with a computer sitting on it, and somehow hoped the steadiness of the room would straighten her out too.

“We’re watertight. I told you my uncle was paranoid. We’ll be fine.”

“I know I should be calmer, but I’m scared.”

“Relax. We’ll be out of here long before we have time to flood.” He kissed her cheek.

Rational thinking would save them. She took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. What do we do?”

“Call your brother and the police.” He pointed with his left hand, and she peered at the blood that stained his shirt on the right.

She had to help him. She jumped to her feet and walked around him to assess how bad it was. On his right shoulder in the back, there was a clear bullet hole. “How? You’re hurt. We have to stop the bleeding.”

“I’ll be fine.” He waved her away and sat at his laptop.

“Let me see.” Years ago, she’d had emergency training. Though it seemed like it happened in a different life, she could remember and help. First, she had to see how bad this was. She tugged at his shirt.

He winced and handed her a satellite phone. “Get your brother on the phone. I’ll get my shirt off.”

He lifted his shirt, and her gaze focused on those sexy abs of his while he peeled away his ruined green t-shirt. Then her brother answered. “Gabe, it’s me,” she said.

“Scarlett, where is James?” Once again Gabe probably assumed she would never know anything.

She swallowed and let that childish thought go. Right now, they needed to get James to a hospital. She put the conversation on speaker and said, “He was shot. We’re in his safe room on his island in the Keys.”

“Is he there?”

“Yes, I’m here.” He dropped his shirt on the table beside them.

“What do you need?” Gabe asked.

She wasn’t needed on the phone so she stood and checked James’ shoulder. Behind him she had a better look at the wound, and it seemed fixable. It was possible that there weren’t any bullet fragments inside, but if there were, they would poison his body. She chewed on her lip and then went into the bathroom to look for medical supplies.

James answered her brother. “Maddox has a high-speed boat and access to military-grade semiautomatics. You should have the location.”

Gabe said, “I’ve sent people, and they’ll be there in ten minutes. Stay safe.”

Good. That sounded final. Her nursing skills would hopefully only be needed for the hour, and she’d not worry about dying from a flash flood or global warming anymore.

“I’ll ensure nothing happens to your sister.”

“Scarlett,” Gabe said, “you used to want to be a doctor.”

At least he remembered something good about her. She stopped chewing her lip, picked up the plastic bag of surgical bandages she’d found, and placed them on the table. “I’m already on it, but I’m glad you remember. James was shot in the shoulder. The wound looks clean, but I don’t have supplies to really check, and if help will be here soon, it’s better to keep the wound dry.”

Gabe warned. “Don’t be brave and try to leave, sis.”

There he went making her sound foolish. She opened the bag with a bit more of a rip than expected. “I like my head attached to my body.”

She studied James’ puncture wound as he finished the conversation with Gabe. A few minutes later, he hung up.

Neither of them said anything. She took her time and used some gauze to clear the area to see exactly how deep the wound was.

Suddenly the room pounded with deafening noise and she used her hands to cover her ears. “James!”

He stood and massaged her shoulders. “He’s shooting at the door. We’re fine.”

The noise lessened. Neither of them were hurt, but her hands trembled nervously anyway. “I don’t like the sound. You didn’t soundproof this bunker?” She uncurled her fingers and wished her heart wasn’t racing still.

“I didn’t build it, so I didn’t think to add more to it.”

“But you’re sure we’re safe?”

He massaged her shoulders and hugged her with his left arm. “Absolutely. I read the design schematics.”

“When we get out of this, make it soundproof.”

“Okay.”

For a second he didn’t say anything. She held her stomach, unable to believe she was here. He broke their silence first. “You wanted to be a doctor?”

“A long time ago.” She stepped out of his embrace and returned to her tools. “In high school. I like science.”

“That doesn’t fit in with the spoiled princess you think you are.”

She motioned for him to sit in the chair. “I never said I was stupid, just lost.”

He sat down and stared at her through the nearby mirror. “So, how’s my shoulder?”

If they were going to be in here for twenty-four hours, then he needed help now. Hopefully that wasn’t the case, so she held still. She hoped he wouldn’t fight her if she had to help.

She glanced at the clock and chewed on her lip. It was better for him if she helped now. She picked up the tools, choosing wisely. “Well, I’d like to get out the bullet, if that’s okay with you.”

“If you know how, please.” He lifted his shoulder but a second later winced.

With one more glance at the tools she’d removed from their plastic wraps, she nodded. At least she had everything she needed. She cleaned his wound then picked up the metal tool for extraction, but froze when she was about to touch him. “This might hurt, but I have no idea how long we’ll be in here.”

He nodded. “Just do your best.”

“It’s quiet now,” she said, and hoped he’d keep the conversation light. With a small prayer under her breath, she pushed in and locked on the bullet.

A monitor beeped. She refused to look, and continued to tug out the bullet.

“He’s circling the bunker to see how big it is.”

Okay. She’d not think about Maddox right now. Her hands stayed steady. She wouldn’t hurt James, despite how fast her pulse was.

“Well, that’s just lovely.” She slowly removed the bullet. Time and a real doctor would figure out if there were long term effects, but she hoped not as she dropped the bullet on the tray. He’d have a nasty scar, but he should be good for now. She cleaned the area again, then bandaged him up, satisfied.

The silence continued outside. James took her hand once she was done with the roll of gauze. “Your brother’s cavalry will be here soon.”

Conversation helped her stay in the here and now. She sat beside him and asked, “Did you know Gabe is now dating Maddox’s sister, Megan?”

“I guessed that. She seemed nice on the phone.” He shifted his weight to be closer to her.

“At least you talked to her. I’ve refused, but my parents already think she’s lovely and perfect despite the fact her brother shot them.” The tone of jealousy in what she said hit her hard, but the truth was she had no reason to think that. Her parents loved her. “And I get that she’s how we even know her brother was the one after my family and that’s how they met. I just have a hard time believing her story that Maddox wasn’t the same man her brother was as a child. If the situation reversed though, I don’t think I could fall for my enemy’s family.”

He brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Sounds like your parents have big hearts, like you.”

“I don’t have a big heart. I just said I haven’t talked to her.”

“You readily accepted Navid into your definition of family. No one ever did that for me when it came to my own blood.”

“That’s just stupid on their part.”

“You say that because you have a big heart and you’ll talk to her in person, which is probably what you’re waiting for.” Something flashed on the tablet and reflected in the mirror. James stood up and went to get the tablet. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” she said, but she hoped this was all over. She folded her arms in front of her and prayed. “I’m tired of being scared and it’s strange you know me already like that.”

“Your heart is your most attractive quality.”

She had no words.

He rejoined her on the seat and showed her the tablet with the video feed. “Maddox is running. The helicopters are here.”

She peeled her gaze from him. There was no reason she’d ever see him again once he no longer protected her and her business deal was done. She stroked her neckline, wishing she’d kept her silly necklace on in her sleep earlier. “Does this mean we’re no longer going to be alone?”

He put the tablet down and stood up. “Yes. Don’t worry. Our marriage will end just like you wanted it to. I won’t fight you on it.”

No. If she’d learned anything these past few days it was that he was perfect and that she wanted to be with him. She wanted him to say ‘I love you.’ The thought wouldn’t leave her alone, but she kept silent. Instead she asked, “James, what if Shepard’s offer doesn’t help me?”

He turned toward her, and this time it sounded like he was distant and far away already. “Then consider mine a backup. You know you can name your terms with me.”

No, not really. They were done. “Okay,” she murmured. “Thanks.”

There was no way she’d do anything but remain silent now. She couldn’t force him to love her. Any tears she shed over this would be alone and into her pillow, where he couldn’t see. Somewhere along the way, she’d fallen in love with a man who never wanted to be married.

Chapter 11

Sitting in Jackson Memorial, the closest hospital to Miami International Airport, James nodded along at the last thing the doctor said concerning his condition. The doctor closed his chart as the door opened. “Your wife did a good job patching you up.”

The woman who might never love him back stood in the doorway. The doctor moved aside as James stood up from the edge of the bed he was sitting on. He went over to Scarlett and took her hands. “Scarlett, what are you still doing here? I thought you were going to stay with Gabe while I was here.”

She looked at him and the vulnerability in her gaze caught him off guard again.

The blue in her eyes shone. “I didn’t want to just come home and for us not to talk and besides you know that’s not going to work.”

“Are we done, Doc?” James asked, turning around without letting her go. If this was his last chance to hold her, then he wanted to let the moment linger.

“Yes, you two both can go.”

James placed his hand on the small of Scarlett’s back and walked her out of the hospital room and into the hall. The sooner they left, the sooner he’d have to explain that he was her bodyguard again.

At least that meant he’d spend more time with her, but this was all too much. As the elevator opened, he said, “Thanks for checking up on me.”

Neither of them said much as they were crowded in with other patients, their family members, and nurses. When they reached the first floor people were everywhere, but luckily it was like there was a parting of the sea in the crowd. Without a word, he led her toward the front door.

She tugged on his arm. “James, I want to talk.”

Right now he couldn’t look her in the eye. If he let this conversation start, then their relationship might be over. She had always been clear about what she wanted. They stopped moving, and Scarlett placed her hand on his cheek.

“Scarlett,” he said, “I don’t want to say goodbye to you when everything is over.”

In the lobby, people brushed past them but no one stopped. Sometimes the safest place to have a conversation was with people everywhere.

“I don’t want that either,” she said.

“You don’t?” His heart stirred.

She puckered her pink lips. “I’m in love with you.”

His entire body felt warm and his pulse raced with excitement. Then his lips met hers.

Her kiss was better than any sugar-filled sweet. She made him feel whole.

When they parted, he put his hand on the small of her back and led her outside into the steamy heat. He raised his hand and his car came for them. The driver hopped out and came round to open the door.

James turned to Scarlett. “Get in the car.”

She got in without a struggle. At least she was protected here, and the glass was bulletproof. The driver closed the door and she massaged James’ cheek to get his attention. “I know you don’t love me, but I wanted to say this. I never wanted our adventure to end, mostly because I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Don’t love you?”

The driver rolled the window up between him and them so they were utterly alone in the backseat. James scooted closer to her and their knees brushed.

“Scarlett, are you sure?”

She lowered her lashes. “That I love you? Absolutely.”

Everything inside him screamed that this was it. He took a breath. “You’re the only woman who touches my heart and sees who I really am. Scarlett Hawke, I love you too.”

Her eyes widened and a moment later she jumped into his lap and kissed his chin on her way to his lips, so she saw his smile. Then she closed her eyes and kissed him fast. Everything was perfect. When she ended it, she said, “James! Why didn’t you say anything?”

His body grew hard from her touch, and he adjusted her so it would be less obvious. “I thought you wanted a divorce, and to prove to your parents that you can make it on your own without me, or them.”

She pushed her hair out of her face and then hugged him. “I was pretty stupid. What matters is love and being with the people we cherish.”

She smelled like home and flowers all mixed together. Before she came into his life, he’d been a shell of a person. The knowledge that he’d never repaid her brother left him cold. He helped her sit beside him again, and folded his hands between her legs. “I betrayed your brother’s trust.”

She made a tsk sound with her voice. “He won’t see it that way, and I don’t care about his opinion anyway, but we can visit my parents tonight for dinner. I’m sure Gabe and Megan are coming, though I think Olivia is still out of town.”

“Conner has a country to run and your sister to protect at the same time.” He had no more knowledge about her dark-haired sister, but he could assume Scarlett would speak to her parents about Navid. He’d be there for her. He traced her thigh.

Scarlett emanated goodness and beauty, and she lit up the car with her presence beside him. He looked at the curves of her body, but skipped her gaze. “Gabe still insists we all protect you,” he said. “If you hadn’t shown up at the hospital, I was going to find you and not tell you how I feel.”

“I would have cried.” He looked at her. She knew exactly how to get his attention. She winked. “So, since we’re already married, I was thinking I need to see where you live and get my things moved in. Take me home before we go see my parents?”

Star Island was home to movie stars, basketball players, and a few elites, like the Morgan estates and his own. The driver stopped in front of his twenty-bedroom mansion and a moment later opened the door for them. James held out his hand and helped her out. “We’re here.”

“So this is your estate in Miami.” She turned around and glanced at the quiet street. With a nod of approval, she turned on her heels and followed him inside. “My parents are in Coral Gables, near University of Miami.”

He was about to answer that she’d grown up in New York, and moved to the old-guard community with standards, but his butler called his attention and pointed toward the library. He curled his fingers with Scarlett’s. “Strange. Someone is waiting for us.”

The butler gave him a business card and he read it, then led Scarlett to the library.

His lawyer Sienna, who they’d met on the day they married, stood near the door. She held out her free hand and shook his. Then she nodded at Scarlett. She clutched a few folders in the other hand. He stayed with Scarlett, but asked, “Sienna, how are you?”

“James, it’s great to see that you’re happy and healthy,” she said, and winced at his arm that was half covered under his dark blue t-shirt.

A second later, he reached for his wife. “This is my wife, Scarlett.”

“I remember. You were beautiful at the courthouse.” She held out her hand and shook Scarlett’s as well. “Nice to formally met you. I’m James’ estate attorney.”

Scarlett nodded politely. “Nice to meet you officially.”

“Is there a problem?” James asked. The sooner they were alone again, the better. He had plans to help Scarlett out of her pink dress.

Sienna handed him one folder she held. “I received an offer from a Mr. Shepard that I found strange and wanted to bring it to your attention as it concerned your new bride.”

“Thanks,” he said, then opened the folder to read what was there.

Sienna quickly waved and showed herself out. “Nice seeing you both. Goodbye.”

Once the hall stopped clanking from high heels on his bamboo floors, and the butler closed the door, Scarlett wrapped her arms around his. “What does it say?”

He handed her the file with possible contracts, but pointed to the section Sienna had highlighted. “He wants to know if I’d oppose his takeover of your company, as buying you out would be a more long-term solution for his company.”

“What!” She crossed her arms and glanced toward the ceiling. “And here I thought I could trust him.”

He walked her out of the library and into the main house, where there was a huge ballroom with a view of the intercoastal waterways behind grand doors.

He’d prefer to strip her of her clothes and claim her body, but they should probably talk this over first. “Scarlett, I know you value your makeup brand. I’d rather we merge and let people like Shepard find other people to prey on.”

She went on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. “I trust you’ll put in writing an amazing contract where we both find an agreement.”

“I’ll get Serena to draw that up, tomorrow.” He walked her forward, nearer the staircase that led upstairs to his bedroom and the balcony that reminded him of Romeo and Juliet’s in the play his middle school teacher made them all see. “What do you think of my house?”

With a soft sigh, she brushed her hands against the stubble of his cheeks, and leaned forward for a kiss. Encouraged, he wrapped his arms around her and claimed her offer.

Her kiss was like a magic spell.

As it ended, she said, “I think you need to get me to the bedroom. Now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and led her up the stairs.

They had hours to be together, before dinner, and if she loved him then he’d have to find a way to keep her forever. Hopefully her brother would forgive him.

Chapter 12

So much had changed so fast.

Scarlett held her breath and took James’ hand as they stood outside the fiberglass and composite front door designed to look like cream wood. Her parents had paid top dollar for their fancy doors. James stood beside her in a pale blue button-down shirt that he had worn for her.

The maid finally answered the door and Scarlett led him to the living room, where her parents usually entertained. The moment they saw everyone, James’ hand stiffened. She squeezed it a little to offer encouragement and then let go as her mother came to hug her. The second her mother stopped hugging her, Scarlett pointed to her husband. “Mom, Dad, Gabe, Megan. This is James.”

Gabe refused to move from his seat on the couch, but said, “Yes, we know.”

He whispered something to Megan.

“No, you don’t.” Scarlett crossed her arms and glared at her annoying older brother.

Her mother, always the pacifist, said, “What don’t we know?”

Right. This was the time for truth. She swallowed, stood closer to James, who hadn’t moved a muscle, and said, “Mom, this is James Clancy, my husband.”

Gabe stood up, with his eyes wide open. “James, you were supposed to guard my sister.”

James’s face went white. She stood in front of him and shook her head. Gabe had no business in her life. “I insisted the only way he could come with me to guard me was if he married me.”

Her father covered his mouth with his hand.

“Scarlett, why would you do that?” Gabe asked.

James looked sick, but stayed still.

Her gaze flickered to her father, who lowered his hand. She needed to explain. “I wanted to impress Max Shepard and prove that I was smart in business without my parents or my brother I wanted to prove to myself and to you that I was savvy and could make my own way, without family money. My reputation is someone who shops all the time, and I needed to show the world that I was stable and trustable.”

Her father said, “Scarlett, you could have asked me or your brother to invest. You don’t need a snake like Shepard.”

“I understand that now.” She lowered her head. Her father had always said the only people she could ever depend on were her family, but she had been so determined to make it without them that she almost signed with someone out to steal from her. “And I also get that James and everyone in this room are the ones that truly matter.”

Gabe shook his head. “How did this transformation happen?”

Again, sometimes it seemed like Gabe cared, and other times it was like he always wanted to judge her, and this conversation was going down the wrong path. She clasped her wrist in front of her. “Max went behind my back and asked James’ permission to try to take over my company, which was always his plan.”

Her father said, “Honey, we would love to help you.”

Right. Love. She loved James and needed her parents back on that conversation. She licked her lips and glanced at James, who was holding his hands together like he was in the military. “That’s just it. I didn’t want help, and I forced James into marrying me.”

Her mother sat in her chair and fanned herself. “Oh, honey.”

“Wait.” James stepped forward and stared at Gabe. “Scarlett is the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. Gabe, I know I was just supposed to babysit her, but I fell in love with her, and I want to ask you if you can forgive me.”

“I love him too.” Scarlett squeezed his hand.

Her mother and father both had wide eyes, and huge smiles grew on their faces.

Her brother ignored her. “Forgive you for what?”

“I betrayed your trust,” James met Gabe’s eye contact but waited for a reaction..

Her mother stood up.

Finally, her annoying brother, Gabe walked toward them and circled them like they were prey. James held her hand a little firmer so she knew he was tense, but then her brother held out his hand. “You saved my life. James, there is no one I’d like better for Scarlett than you, now that I think about it. You even out each other’s edges.”

“So we’re good?” James shook his hand.

“I’m great, though marriage to my sister might end in disaster for you,” Gabe said. “So good luck!”

“Stop!” Scarlett said.

James put his hand on her back and she felt they were whole. Not even her brother could destroy the news.

Then Gabe called out for the dark-haired Megan. He held her shoulders and brought her forward. “Scarlett, this is Megan. She was shy to meet you after what her brother did.”

Scarlett froze.

Megan kept her head down and her face was red. “He’s in jail again and this time he won’t get bail.”

No judgment. Scarlett reached out and hugged her. Megan hugged her back, and she saw how her brother breathed a sigh of relief. When the hug ended, she saw the glance between her brother and Megan, and realized they were in love. Scarlett said, “That’s good. Megan, the way my brother looks at you makes me think we should be best friends. I know exactly how to annoy him and I’m willing to share the knowledge.”

Megan smiled. “Scarlett, I would love for us to be friends.”

“Yeah.” She did her little victory dance for when she won.

James whispered in her ear, “Navid.”

Right. They had something else to discuss. Something big. They all walked into the living room, and she waited for her parents to claim the love seat that they’d sat on together for years now. She and James chose the chairs opposite them, and Gabe poured wine. Then she pushed her hair out of her face and said, “Mom, Dad, when we were in Grand Bohemia and escaping with our lives, we met Navid Barampour. He said he was my brother and that’s why he wanted to help me.”

Her father’s face went white. “Navid Barampour?”

“The man in the desert years ago, who fought you and then helped you, Gabe, is the same Navid,” James added.

“You’re joking.” Gabe handed James his glass of wine.

Scarlett saw her mother’s face went red and her father grew pensive. She waited and hoped that what happened years ago shouldn’t matter anymore.

James continued, “Gabe, Navid said he helped Maddox steal from you but never used that information and refused to let anyone die. The day you met him in the desert, he helped ensure that you were safe after fighting with me.”

“Navid must have been young, and angry at our father,” Scarlett added.

Her mother glanced at her father and squeezed his knee, and then said, “Your father had an affair with Jasmine Barampour before Olivia was born.”

So she’d guessed correctly and put the pieces together. She lowered her lashes to not look directly at her father, and said, “Dad, is it possible that Navid is my half-brother? It wasn’t a lie?”

He answered in a soft voice. “Yes, but Jasmine never said anything.”

“True.” Her mother linked her arms with her father. “But we paid her two million dollars to disappear. It’s enough to raise a child.” Her mother met Scarlett’s stare. “If she told your father, he’d have never left a son. You know he cares about children.”

“I’d like to meet my son,” her father said.

The room went quiet. Her parents stayed close to each other in their chairs, and neither said a word. Everything remained calm.

Scarlett broke the silence. “Navid said he’d try to come by for Christmas.”

Gabe held Megan’s hand. “Dad, if what James said about Navid is true then he’s a fighter. I never saw anyone with that much skill. I want you both to be safe, in case his intentions are not a family reunion but revenge.”

Her brother still believed the Maddox threat would continue in the near future. She swallowed. “Gabe…”

“I want our parents to be safe,” her brother finished.

Scarlett shook her head. “You, James, and all of us will do everything, but Navid saved me. We always have each other and there’s room for one more. Gabe, trust me.”

“I do.” Megan stroked Gabe’s knee. He glanced at his girlfriend and nodded at her. Then he turned his attention back to Scarlett. “So, let’s celebrate your wedding. You do realize that Mom is going to insist on throwing a big wedding celebration.”

A huge wedding with all the trimmings played out like a fairy tale in her mind, including James in a nice suit—preferably the gray one he hated, but if he insisted then black was fine. She squeezed his arm and stared into his blue eyes.

The love she had for him wouldn’t change, with or without the fantasy, but the fantasy was fun. She returned her gaze to her parents. “For one-on-one time with Mom, I’d love it. And I’m so happy you all accept James, because I love him. Dad, James is going to help with my company but I’d love for you to back my makeup too. It’s organic and we’re really growing fast.”

“Between the two of us and your vision, there’ll be no stopping you, Scarlett,” he replied.

James then joked, “Is there a way to stop Scarlett from doing anything she wants?”

“No,” Gabe answered.

She stood up and James followed, then kissed her forehead. The world was right, and it felt like Christmas, even though it wasn’t. She had James and her life was complete. His lips on her skin made her ache for the lifetime of togetherness.

Gabe passed out champagne glasses and found a bottle of champagne in the cabinet. Once everyone had a glass, he said, “To James and Scarlett. May they live happily ever after.”

James kissed her and the world faded away. They were together and happy, and life was working out. With her family and the man she loved, Scarlett had everything.

Also by Victoria Pinder

Returning for Valentine’s (FREE if you go to my website)

The House of Morgan

Secret Crush

Secret Baby

Secret Bet

Secret Wish

Secret Dad

A Frosted Game of Hearts

Winter Peril

Stormy Peril

The Collins Brothers

Chaperoning Paris

Borrowing the Doctor

Electing Love

Keeping the Spy

Keeping the Captain

The Marshall Family Saga

Favorite Coffee, Favorite Crush

Favorite Coffee, Favorite Mistake

Favorite Coffee, Favorite Sin

Favorite Coffee, Favorite Scandal

The Hawke Fortune

Tempting Gabe

Tempting James

Tempting Conner

Tempting Harry

Tempting Navid

Royals of Avce

Forbidden Crown

Forbidden Royal

Forbidden Prince

Then if you also like Science Fiction/Fantasy Romance:

Hidden Dragon Series

Call of the Dragon

Dance of the Dragon (Coming Soon)

The Queen Gene

Whispers of a Throne

Storm of the Throne (coming soon)

Earthseekers Mission

Makeup May Change Your Life

The Zoastra Affair

Ancient Greek Heroes

Mything You

Mything the Throne

About the Author

USA Today Bestselling Author, Victoria Pinder grew up in Irish Catholic Boston then moved to Miami. Eventually, found that writing is her passion. She always wrote stories to entertain herself. Her parents are practical minded people demanding a job, but when she sat down to see what she enjoyed doing, writing became obvious.

Please contact her at :

http://www.victoriapinder.com

victoria@victoriapinder.com

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Rider’s Fall

A Viper’s Bite MC Novella

LENA BOURNE

Rider

I never had a home, and the one I found with my MC is gone now too. But I will go on, I always have. I’ll just ride like I’ve done since I got my bike. Ride as far as the road takes me. This time, it took me to the jungles of Brazil, and then it stopped dead. But not because it ran out.

I stopped for a girl named Chloe, a do-good volunteer at an orphanage who is clearly running from something, but she won’t tell me what. She’s not letting me get very close to her either, which won’t stop me trying. Her curves and her pretty face were enough to halt my ride, but that’s not why I’m staying. That’s because being with her is being home—the kind of home I never had nor even wanted until she crossed my path. Now she’s all I want, and I’m a guy who takes what he wants.

Chloe

I was forced from my home, my college, and the only life I’ve ever known by a vindictive ex-boyfriend and a sex tape that went viral. It ruined my reputation, stopped my career before it even began, and nearly ended my life. But I’ve rebuilt it all working at this orphanage in rural Brazil. The last thing I need is some testosterone filled bad boy messing with my mind and making me do something I’ll regret. He may be hot as sin and he definitely wants me, but he’ll just have to move on. Even though he also taught me how to let go of my past truly and completely, and given me a taste of the freedom I haven’t had since my life went to pieces. Maybe not even before that.

But he’s not here to stay, he doesn’t know how to. And I’ve worked too hard and for too long to have my heart shattered all over again when he leaves me behind.

Chapter 1

Chloe

The orphanage won't survive this year's rainy season without major repairs. That was one of the last things Dom Gustavo said to me before he fell asleep for the last time. I should say, "died", but given what I've been through, I can't even think that word without shivering. He also asked me to keep this orphanage running no matter what, but I made that promise to myself long before Gustavo asked it of me. Taking care of the orphans here is my life’s purpose and all I have.

"Come inside, Chloe!" Eduardo's shout reaches me over the hissing of the rain. He's sticking his head out the window of the house we use as the cafeteria. "No use standing in the rain and getting wet. If it goes, it goes."

I wave my hand at him dismissively and return to studying the soil erosion caused by a particularly large and aggressive stream the rain is filling with alarming speed. All the buildings that make up our little orphanage in the jungle are built on stilts, since the river that flows down the incline on top of which Dom Gustavo's home stands sometimes floods. But the flooding has never been this bad since I came here three years ago.

We've done many repairs ourselves, adding additional stilts and fixing the ones that were damaged, but the houses are very old. They've been here for close to one hundred years, and were built to house the laborers that used to work on Dom Gustavo's estate. I wish we had enough money to tear it all down and build more suitable houses, but we'll never have that kind of money and these structures are still a lot better than the orphanages in Rio de Janeiro, which is about fifty miles from here.

The stream I'm most worried about is a small river by now, and comes down hard right under the stilts that support the left side of our schoolhouse. I don't know a lot about construction and such, but I think the water might erode enough of the soil around the stilts to make it collapse very soon.

Eduardo appears beside me, holding a large and very broken umbrella over our heads. The rain is mostly coming in sideways today, so the umbrella is useless.

"These houses were built for the rainy season," he says. "The stilts will hold, trust me."

Eduardo and me are both volunteers here at this orphanage, but we both grew up in cities. Him in Rio de Janeiro, me in San Diego. Ed doesn't know much about the traditional way of life in Brazil, or what buildings such as this one can withstand.

"I don't know, Ed," I say. "Dom Gustavo didn't think the stilts would hold, and looking at this, I'd tend to agree."

"I think it might be time to move on," he says, looking off into the distance although there's only jungle there.

I hate hearing him say that, and he's been doing it more and more often lately, but I swallow my annoyance. Ed is the only male volunteer that stayed after Gustavo passed. The rest fled, because the ever-present threat of the cartel running us off is worse now that we no longer have Gustavo's protection. Me, Ed, and Olivia are the only three adults left here. And we have twenty orphans to take care of.

Even the villagers won't come help us out anymore now that Gustavo is gone, since the cartel has made it plain that they want this land. We need Eduardo here. I need him. I've invested the last three years of my life into this place. Being here, helping these poor orphans lead a peaceful, nurturing life and preparing them for the future is my only concern. The only thing that matters in my life. I'll stay here and run this place by myself, if I have to, because I will not force the kids to go to an orphanage in Rio. I spent two months as a volunteer at one there when I first moved to Brazil, and I still have nightmares about it. So I ignore Ed's suggestion.

"We'll make the school off limits for now, and I'll go into town and find a worker who actually knows, if this is a problem or not," I say.

He shakes his head. "No one will come, you know that."

"Someone will. I can ask really nicely." I offer him my best Southern Cali girl smile, complete with dimples and bright white teeth. I used to smile like that all the time before my whole life back home was destroyed. My smiles don't come easily anymore, especially big and bright ones require a conscious effort nowadays. But that's OK, the smiling, bubbly, carefree, surfer girl who smiled like this is who I was. Now I'm a woman who knows life isn't all sunshine, big waves and long, lazy afternoons. But I will do all I can to protect the children at this orphanage from that fact for as long as I can.

That's why I don't much like that Ed's reaction to my big smile is a wide one in return with just a hint of desire in his eyes. When Ed first came to work here about a year ago, I told him no way when he made his moves on me. I'm done with men. Choosing the wrong man here could destroy more than just my life, and I'm known for choosing completely wrong. Ed didn't persist at the time, but this smile tells me he did hold on to the hope that I’ll change my mind.

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, making my whole body stiffen. "Let's get out of this rain and have a beer. It's getting dark, and this rain is only going to get worse. Maybe we can even all sleep in Gustavo's house tonight."

There's no mistaking where his suggestion is actually leading. The idea that he'll get me in bed is written all over the smile that's still plastered on his face, and in the way his arm is resting heavily around my shoulders. Even if I were willing to let another man into my life—which I probably never will be—it won't be Ed with his bushy hipster beard, slight build, and slender, long-fingered hands, which are now caressing my upper arm.

I move out of his embrace and face him. "We're selling Gustavo’s house if we can, and you know very well we need to clear it out first."

"I'm sure we can find some room," Ed says, grinning at me.

The rain has changed direction. It's coming straight down now, and hard, drenching me like someone is emptying bucket after bucket of water over my head without pausing. "Ed, you're my friend. Let's keep it friendly."

The hardness in his brown eyes tells me he doesn't like hearing that. Even through the sheet of rain blurring my vision, I can see that. And I suddenly don't want to be around him anymore. The look in Ed's eyes reminds me of the one my ex gave me when I broke up with him. It happened only days before he uploaded the sex videos of us to all the major free porn sites, and pretty much ended my life. Almost quite literally ended it. I shiver at the memory, but I've decided ages ago not to think of that ever again. It's in the past, might as well have happened to someone else. Because my new life is all about keeping this orphanage running.

A stream has broken off from the one threatening the stilts of our school, and it's already deepening as it approaches the cafeteria. And those two are not the only buildings facing this problem. Several of the smaller bungalows are impacted, as is the large one where the girls sleep. The rainy season hasn't even officially started yet and the problem is already severe. And we have very little time to get it fixed before the real rains come in about a month.

"I'm going into town to find someone who can fix this," I say and walk away towards my bungalow. I also just want to get away from Ed.

"I'm probably leaving tomorrow," he calls after me.

I halt, but don't turn.

"Unless you want to convince me to stay," he adds.

It sounds horribly offensive on the face of it, but I'm sure he didn't mean to suggest he'll stay, if I sleep with him. Ed is a nice, slightly nerdy guy and his English is not the best.

"Do what you need to do," I say, turning to face him. "But please, think of the children while you decide."

There's no trace of a smile left on his face, just shock and maybe remorse. I know him well enough to know he's the kind of guy who does the right thing, and I hope he will in this too. But I won't beg him to stay, and I certainly won't let him fuck me to make it happen.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm driving towards the village in Gustavo's jeep, which is the only working vehicle we still have. My station wagon and the minivan cannot be fixed by any of the mechanics in the area. The cartel is behind that too, it's just one of the ways they're trying to run us off this land. But I don't scare so easily. This is our land, Gustavo left it to us, and we're staying.

I don't even know what I'm hoping to achieve in town tonight. I'm sure no one will come work on our schoolhouse right now. Probably not tomorrow either. But I couldn't stay there with Ed, and I won't abandon all hope until I absolutely have to.

Rider

This damn storm is the second one I couldn't just ride through. At least the first one hit me on the outskirts of a big city, not in a rural, fancy resort-infested stretch of coast like this one. But there's no riding this deluge out. If I tried, I'd have bigger things to worry about than spending a couple of nights in a fancy hotel. Like a flooded engine, for example. Not that I'm planning on spending the night in a fancy bed either. I don't have the money to waste on something like that. My stash is running low as it is, and I want to ride for awhile longer before I have to work again.

Maybe the bartender of this bar where I've been forced to drink insanely overpriced beer for the last three hours will let me crash on the covered porch after he closes for the night. There's a hammock out there just calling my name.

"So, you think this rain will stop anytime soon?" I ask, finishing my beer and indicating I'd like another.

He gets a bottle from the fridge at the end of the long bar, and wipes off the condensation, which erupts all over it in the minute, or so it takes him to open it before handing it to me.

"This one might," he says. "But more rain is coming."

"All this rain must be bad for business," I say, then take a swig of my fresh beer. My vague idea so far is to offer him some money, so he'll let me spend the night here, which is why I'm trying to steer the conversation in that direction.

He casts his eyes over the empty bar and shrugs. "People will come, they always do. I am not worried."

There were more people in here when I arrived, mostly soaked tourists, but they've all already left. He doesn't sound worried at all, so I guess he's telling the truth. I hope that doesn't mean he won't let me stay the night here.

"When do you usually close?" I ask, checking my watch. It's almost ten, and that's the hour I'm hoping he'll name.

"Soon," he says instead and starts wiping glasses again. The same ones he's wiped at least twice, since I got here.

He's not much for talking, this one. Though I've been here for a long time, so maybe we've just covered all available topics.

The sky outside illuminates with the color of fire in the same moment that a particularly vicious roll of thunder sounds outside.

A band of red is still burned into my vision when I look away from the window. The bartender is standing way on the other side of the long bar now, talking to a long-haired blonde. Her shorts and t-shirt are soaked through, leaving no doubt that she's built like a Victoria’s Secret Angel—one of the curvy ones—or just an angel in general. Not in the biblical sense, unless it's in the sense that she was sent down from heaven, so she can share that hammock with me tonight. But there won't be much sleeping, if that happens.

I should stop with the biblical metaphors before they get any worse. I blame Father O'Reilly for always being so quick to come up with those. He was drunk half the time while he took care of us at the orphanage, but he knew just about every line from the bible and how to apply it to real life.

The godsend is talking to the bartender in an animated way that suggests they know each other well. Which annoys me, since it might mean they're dating, and I want to be the one to peel off that hot pink bra that's clearly visible under her wet white t-shirt tonight. Even if he is her boyfriend, she doesn't look happy with him right now, so there's that.

"You're the only one left, Fernando!" she yells suddenly in a perfect southern California accent, which takes me totally by surprise. I haven't heard the sweet dialect of my home country, since I left the US almost six months ago. Not that I miss the valley girls. I never had much use for them. But this one could change all that. "If you don't help us, I don't know what I'll do."

Fernando the bartender looks angry now too, his face even darker than it was a couple of minutes ago.

"You know how it is," he says. "I cannot help you."

"Maybe I can help," I call out. "What do you need?"

I hope my dick is one of the things she needs, because it's raging hard for her now. Especially after she turns to face me, her long, wet hair whipping around, and her full breasts bouncing.

She gives me a once over, and she has the best view, since I'm sitting here in just my jeans while my shirt and cut dry on the stool next to me. Her eyes linger on my arms and my abs, but they're stern like a teacher's when they meet mine again.

"Thank you, Sir, but I'm all set," she says, equally sternly.

"Sir?" I say and laugh. "I don't think anyone's ever called me that before."

It's the truth, and she doesn't look much younger than me, five years tops, so I don't know why she's doing it.

"Thank you for your offer," she says and turns back to Fernando, who doesn't look too pleased with the prospect of getting badgered with any more requests for whatever she wants from him, and he doesn't want to give.

"I can’t help you," he says before she has a chance to speak.

"But we'll lose everything if you don’t," she says. "The whole place will be washed away, if someone who knows about construction doesn't help us fix it."

"I know a lot about construction," I say taking the opening without really thinking about what I'm saying. Hell, maybe I just wanted her to look at me again.

"You do?" she asks. Her golden brown eyes aren't as hard as before, but they're very skeptical. "Or are you just saying that?"

"As God is my witness," I say, channeling Father O'Reilly again it seems, and I should stop. "I've worked in construction since I was seventeen, and I built at least fifty houses, and a couple of skyscrapers. Even a stadium out in Iowa."

"Do you know anything about houses on stilts?" she asks.

I don't. "A house is a house," I say instead of telling her that, since I want to take on this project more and more with every minute that her gaze stays on me. Right now, I'm wondering what that voice of hers would sound like moaning my name. Or how good her full, soft thighs would feel wrapped around my back on the bike. So yeah, I will know all about houses on stilts for her.

"Why don't you join me for a beer and tell me all about this project of yours?" I say and tap the stool next to me.

Both her and the bartender are looking at me now. Her face contorts, and I can just see her struggling with whatever is actually preventing her from jumping on this offer I've made her.

I'm sure all the muscles and tattoos I'm displaying might be a little imposing, but nowadays every other college boy is more tatted up than me. Though my muscles are the result of genuine man's work, like carrying rocks at construction sites and getting into fights, and not carved out at some air-conditioned gym.

"Come on, I don't bite," I say, and want to add, “unless you want me to”, but stop myself just in time. This isn't that kind of a bar pick-up, and she's not the kind of girl who'd go for a line like that. But I will get her to go for me in other ways.

"OK, yeah, sure," she says and walks over. The bartender looks visibly relieved as he hands us each a fresh bottle of beer. As for me, I'm about ten thousand times more tense now that she's sitting close enough to smell.

So I focus on the leather bracelets covering almost a third of her left forearm, since it's the only bit of her that's safe for me to look at if we're to have a conversation. She covers them with her right hand like I’m not supposed to be looking at that part of her either. But she's letting me buy her a drink, and that's always a good step in the right direction. And sleeping in her bed tonight would sure beat that hammock out on the porch.

Chapter 2

Chloe

I wish he'd put on a shirt, and I don't at the same time. Before I moved here, I used to spend most of my time on the beaches of San Diego among surfers, so I'm pretty much immune to the sight of hot, muscular shirtless guys. But the sight of this one stirred pure desire in me of the kind I haven’t felt in years. Nor let myself feel. He's big and tall, his biceps wide, and his stomach sporting an eight pack, not just a regular six pack. He has a pretty conservative number of tattoos, but they still add to the allure. I've had zero inclination to bring a guy to my bed, since breaking up with my ex and all that happened afterwards, so the flash of desire to change that for this guy when I first looked at him was as surprising as it was momentarily enjoyable. And the pull he has on me is still persisting now that I'm sitting close enough to feel the heat he gives off.

Maybe all that's just from the way he was looking at me. He's still doing it now, eyeing me like I'm naked and not found wanting at all. Like he'd enjoy getting naked with me. But I'm thinking clearly again. He was very quick to say he's an experienced construction worker, and coupled with this sexually charged look he's giving me, I'm afraid it was just a lie.

"So you know about buildings and construction and stuff?" I ask, inwardly cringing at the airy, valley girl way I delivered the question. All that was missing from the picture was me flipping my hair back as I said it.

The left edge of his lips curls up in the sexiest grin I've seen this side of a magazine spread. His sparkling green eyes aren't helping either. They're the color of freaking emeralds and the more I look at them, the more I want to look at them. I take a long swallow of my beer in a vain effort to compose myself again.

"Yes, I know about construction and stuff," he says, still grinning. "But I thought we'd start this conversation on a different note. What's your name?"

"Oh, yeah," I mutter, nearly spilling my beer as I set it on the bar to extend my hand. I don't know what it is about this guy, but he's turning me into a bigger klutz than I was as a teenager. "I'm Chloe."

"Rider," he says, shaking my hand firmly. And the touch of his warm, rough skin sends a bona fide shock right through my stomach. I haven't felt that this strongly in a dog's age. Possibly never.

"What kind of name is that?" I ask before thinking.

He's not grinning anymore. "My real name's Michael, but no one calls me that. So, what kinda help do you need?"

I shouldn't have made fun of his name. The sparkle is gone from his eyes, and I want it back.

"The rain is making streams all over the mud at our settlement and they're seriously eroding the ground. Since all the buildings are on stilts, I'm afraid they'll just topple down."

He's squinting at me now, nodding his head slowly. "A settlement of houses on stilts? Where do you live? In a pilgrim community?"

I can tell he's trying not to laugh at his feeble little joke, but that doesn't make his question any less annoying.

"It's an orphanage," I say. "Practically completely volunteer based. We grow our own food and generally do the best we can to get by. This problem is beyond any one of us to solve, and I've just spent the last two hours going door to door in every village near here trying to get someone to help, but no one will," I glare at Fernando, as I say it, since he was my last hope, but he's wiping down a glass and pretending not to listen.

"An orphanage?" Rider asks and his tone alone makes me look at him. It's wistful and there's no trace left of the sexual bravado it was full of before.

"Yeah," I say, taking another sip of my beer.

"In that case, I'd love to help you even more," he says.

"How so?" I ask, since this change in him is totally perplexing.

He grins again, but it's softer than before. Even his eyes are like two tiny peaceful mountain lakes right now.

"Well, I won't just be helping out a pretty girl. I'll also be making orphans happy. But I need to see the place first, before I make promises I can't keep."

Something in his tone tells me he's not big on making promises, or keeping them, but I won't ask him about that.

Instead I ask Fernando for a pen and a piece of paper.

"I'll draw you a map and we can meet there tomorrow morning," I say to Rider.

His face lights up with a wide smile, which just transfers to my face without any conscious control on my part.

"What?" I ask, taking the pen and paper Fernando's offering me, but keeping my eyes locked on Rider's.

"We can just go there tonight."

And bam, there it is. He's not hiding what he's really saying at all. He wants to share my bed tonight. I know it as well as if he'd actually said it. And the carefree, happy-go-lucky surfer girl I used to be is saying go for it, take him home, it's been a long time, he's hot as hell, hotter than any guy you've ever been with.

But no. I'm nowhere near even close to trusting another man enough to get intimate, and when I am ready again it certainly won't be this bad boy. He's got "Hook-ups Only" written all over his rugged yet gorgeous face. Three years ago, that wouldn't bother me at all. But I'm not that go-with-the-flow girl anymore. And sex is something I associate with the apocalypse now, and not pleasure. Besides, if he really is a construction expert, I need him to stick around and fix the flooding problem at the orphanage.

"It's just a bunch of very basic bungalows with no running water," I say and start to sketch the map, so I can stop looking into his eyes and getting ideas. "I'm sure you'll be much more comfortable at your hotel."

"What hotel?" he says and laughs. "I was forced to stop here because of the rain. Else I'd still be riding, or bedding down on some beach."

"Interesting holiday you got planned there," I muse, but I actually mean it. Getting in my car, just me and my surfboard, and riding off into the unknown in search of the perfect waves was how I spent most of my weekends back in the day. I haven’t done that since I moved here, but right now, the desire to do it again very soon is filling my whole body. I haven't even gone surfing yet, let alone spent more than a day away from the orphanage. And even when I did, it was on some errand for it.

"My whole life's more or less a holiday," he says, laughing. "So I'd call this an adventure."

I stop sketching the map. "You're saying you need a place to sleep?"

He nods, grinning at me again in a way that makes me sure sleeping is not what he has in mind.

I drink the rest of my beer, hoping its coldness will cool me down some. Because his idea sounds very appealing. But nothing will happen between us. I'm not ready, and he's not the one to change that.

I slide off my stool. "Let's go."

Fernando gives me a warning sort of look while I wait for Rider to pay, which is taking a long time, since he's got Colombian and Mexican money mixed in with the Brazilian Reals. I shrug, mouth a "what?"

Fernando inclines his head towards Rider, who's still busy sifting through his cash. "Tem certeza? Esse cara cheira a encrenca."

Yeah, Fernando, I can see that this guy is trouble. I wasn't born yesterday. But I need someone to help fix our home and no one else is volunteering.

But I don't tell him that. I just nod.

Rider has paid, and he follows me outside, where the rain has miraculously stopped. The full moon is even shining through the clouds, bathing everything in a soft, dreamlike white sheen.

“I think there'll be enough light for you to check out the problem tonight,” I say.

He's put on his shirt and the leather, sleeveless jacket he was drying out at the bar. And while I'd prefer to still be looking at his muscles, this looks bad ass too.

"Yeah, maybe," he agrees. "I'll get my bike, then we can go."

A bike? But I have no time to ask any questions before he wheels out a shiny black and silver Harley from under the bar's overhang. The chrome parts are gleaming in the moonlight, and the only thing I'm thinking of saying is that I've never ridden on the back of a bike, and I really want to. But that's the old, wild surfer girl in me talking.

"Alright. My jeep's over there," I say and unnecessarily point to it, because it's the only car in the parking lot.

He makes a disappointed sort of sound. "Pity. I hoped I'd get to give you a ride."

"I bet you did," I hear myself say with all the flirtatious coyness of the girl I used to be back when I still trusted men.

"Another time then," he says, swinging his leg over the bike.

No, right now.

I ignore that annoying voice inside my head and just head to the jeep. By the time I reach it, I'm already back to normal. All this guy will be doing at the orphanage is fixing our problem. I don't need casual sex, because that will not fix my personal problem. It'll just make it worse. I've gone years without sex, and that's not about to change for Rider, despite all his muscles, his green eyes, and his magnetism. I'm actually surprised he didn't recognize me from the sex videos that were all over the Internet when I left the States, and might still be, for all I know, since I don’t check anymore. But he seems like a guy who doesn't watch a lot of porn, since he's too busy doing the real thing.

Rider

Man, if she won't let me share her bed tonight, I probably won't sleep. She's definitely the hottest chick I've met this side of the last decade. Wholesome, and hotter than most strippers, with an all-natural body. It's hard to find those kinds of curves free of silicone, and on a woman that doesn't fret over every sip of beer she takes. But I don't know if she's interested in me too. Her eyes say, “Yes”, but everything else is more like, “Hell, no”. She also reminds me of someone I was once close to, but I can't put my finger on who.

We've been driving down a pitch dark road for almost half an hour now. The moon's still high in the sky, but this road is bordered by thick jungle on both sides and so muddy I'm starting to worry about my bike. But I'd risk even my bike for a chance to peel those wet clothes off Chloe. I can fix my bike, but this hard on she gave me can only be fixed by her.

We turn a corner and suddenly the jungle opens up into a huge, terraced moonlit clearing. She stops and gets out of the car to unlock a huge metal gate in a wire fence. The gate's total overkill, since I'm sure a child could kick a hole in that fence. Even in moonlight, I can see the rust.

"It’s just a little further. Go straight down when you enter," she yells, and then gets back in the jeep.

Despite her instructions, I stop by the side of the road and wait for her to lock the gate again. Apart from the moonlight and our headlights it's very dark and we're in the middle of the jungle. Who knows what kind of beasts are lurking in the trees, and I want to keep her safe. It's a weird thing to feel for a girl I just met, or any girl I ever met, but I do. The fact that this is where she lives makes no difference.

She smiles faintly as she passes me, and then I'm following her down a muddy road that feels like I'm on a slide. So I go slow, because the last thing I need is to fall off my bike and make a fool of myself in front of her. The idea downright frightens me, since I want to impress her.

The settlement she was talking about finally comes into view. It's made up of about ten thatch covered, wooden houses on stilts, some larger some smaller, arranged in a circle around a wide open area. In the distance, atop an elevation behind the settlement, a huge, mansion-type house glows white in the moonlight.

She drives the jeep into the only building that's not on stilts.

"You can leave your bike in here," she says, coming out of the structure.

"I was just gonna do that," I say and grin at her since she seems to like it when I do that. Or at least her eyes say, “Yes” more clearly when I do.

She nods and goes over to the long table lining one side of the garage then comes join me with an armload of flashlights.

"I don't know which ones work," she says and smiles sheepishly at my questioning look. "Let's go look at the water now, OK?"

"Sure," I say and take some of the flashlights from her hands. "But let's not carry a bunch of non-working flashlights with us."

I try the first one and it works, revealing her blushing cheeks.

"Yeah, why didn't I think of that?" she says breathlessly.

She starts checking the flashlights too, still flustered and breathing a little fast. I'm the one having this effect on her, which is encouraging.

A few moments later, we're each holding a working flashlight, and she's leading a path through the mud towards one of the larger buildings. I should be using the flashlight to illuminate my way, but it looks better lighting up her heart shaped ass as it sways in front of me. I can't wait to watch that perfect ass bouncing on my cock. I'll take a look at this problem of hers, and then she's gonna solve the one she's causing in my jeans.

"Here," she says and turns abruptly, catching me staring at her ass.

She gasps, her flashlight illuminating one of the building's stilts and mine on her thighs, just below her pussy. I clear my throat, and focus the beam of my flashlight on the problem she's trying to show me. The water is coming down the incline in a frothing stream, running right past three of the rickety-looking stilts holding up the house on one side.

"You're worried this water will erode all the soil and make the whole building collapse?" I ask, shining the flashlight up the ravine to see where the water is coming from. This isn't the only stream rushing down the hill

"Yes," she says. "And it's happening with some of the other buildings too. But this one is the worst."

"Well," I say turning to her. "I'm afraid you're probably right."

She gasps again, her face falling like she just got the worst news of her life.

"But all you need is a good ditch to divert all this water," I hasten to explain, since, damn it, I don't want her looking that scared, ever.

"A ditch? So it can be fixed?" she asks.

"And pretty easily too. A couple days of digging should do it. I don't know much about houses on stilts, but when I lived in Alaska we had a similar problem. It was fine in the winter, but when the spring thaw came there was suddenly so much water it washed the tool shed clean away," I'm rambling, since I want her to know I can fix this for her. But I never meant to go into personal details. I never do. With anyone. My life and my story is my business.

"Alaska, wow," she says. "It must be beautiful there."

I shrug. "It's incredible. But also very cold. After one winter there, I realized I'm more of a warm climate kinda guy."

"Me too," she says, then sort of shakes like she said too much. "I'm glad this is an easy fix though."

"Well, I don't know about easy," I say and laugh. "I'm not exactly looking forward to a week or more of digging in this humidity. I assume you don't have any heavy machinery."

She grimaces, then smiles widely right after, moonlight making her teeth glow and my cock twitch from the radiance she's giving off. Her smile is like noonday sun. "I'm not even sure we have more than one shovel."

I'm grinning again, since I'd dig this ditch with my bare hands for her. I'm just about to tell her that when she says, "Better get some rest, so we can start bright and early."

"Right," I say, since she just ruined my chance to let her know I'm hers all the way if she wants me.

"Great, I'll show you to your bungalow, " she says and smiles again, not as brightly, but still plenty bright.

"Lead the way," I say, and if she doesn't soon, I'll just kiss her right here. Seems like the good news I was able to give her has chipped away most of her standoffishness and coldness, and now she's back to the perky southern Cali girl. But it's more than that. She's like a ray of sunshine when she's not trying to be distant, and it's warming me right now even though it's the middle of the night.

She stops at the foot of one of the smaller bungalows and illuminates the steps for me. "You can take this one. It's unoccupied right now."

"And which one's yours?" I ask, grinning at her. I'm one of her smiles away from picking her up and carrying her up these stairs. "I think I'd prefer that one."

I get no smile, just a sharp intake of breath, and the look on her face is chillier than all the ice in Alaska. I don't know if I scared her, offended her, or just killed someone she loved. Her face is that unreadable. And that sunshine she was offering just a minute or two ago is gone.

But then she finally grins at me and taps my bicep. "Easy there, Rider. You'll need your strength for tomorrow, and I'm spoken for. I'll see you in the morning. Good night."

Then she walks away, her heart shaped ass swaying off into the darkness. I left all my things on the bike, but I don't need anything. I just need her to come back and tell me she's free to be with me. That she's not really spoken for. Or at least that it won't stop her from spending the night with me.

Chapter 3

Rider

The next morning I'm woken by the sun shining directly onto my face and the racket of at least a hundred children all chattering and laughing at the same time. At first I couldn't get to sleep, kept tossing and turning, but I slept like a baby once I realized Chloe probably lied about having a boyfriend. No sane man would let her run around in a wet t-shirt looking for manual laborers. And if whoever she's with did, he doesn't deserve her.

The chatter of children finally fades, and I can hear a faint knock on the door.

"Rider? Are you up?" Chloe's voice comes through.

"Yeah, give me a sec," I say and bolt out of bed to find my jeans and shirt. I slept in my boxers and I'm not about to open the door wearing just those, however much I might like her to see just how hard I am for her. The problem last night was that I came on too strong. Chloe's the type of girl that needs low key coaxing. I'm pretty good at that too.

"Good morning," I say, opening the door wide.

She's wearing a different shirt and shorts today, her long, wild hair tied back with a pink bandana. She looks even better in full daylight than she did under the hazy lights in the bar, or by moonlight. That's not always the case with women I meet in bars.

"'Morning. Ready to get started?" she asks, giving me one of her glowing smiles.

"Aren't you quite the slave driver?" I say. "How about some breakfast and coffee first."

She smiles even wider, handing me a paper bag. "All taken care of. I made you a sandwich and there's some fruit in there too. As for coffee, we're out, unfortunately, but I'm going shopping later."

I take the bag from her and peer inside. "This is almost as good as breakfast in bed."

She knows exactly what I'm talking about, and I can see her struggle not to roll her eyes. But she's still smiling.

"Me and Ed found some shovels and such," she says, pointing at a dark-haired guy standing at the foot of the stairs. I only just noticed him, and there's no mistaking the pure, dark jealousy behind his thick rimmed glasses as he looks up at me. If this is her boyfriend then I have no competition at all. This guy doesn't deserve her, period.

"Were those the orphans I heard going past before?" I ask while we're descending the stairs.

"Yes. They have their morning classes now, but they'll come help us dig later," she says, then points to the guy. "And this is Eduardo."

"Rider," I say, shaking his hand too firmly, judging by his wince. I was right, he's actually a weakling.

They brought a bunch of shovels and whatnot with them, and I'm the one wincing, as I check the tools I'll be forced to work with. They're all old and rusty, the wooden handles chipped away. When dry, the mud around here is as hard as concrete, and the sun is very quickly taking care of that. These ancient tools will not make for a fun day of work. But I'm used to hard work, and besides, I'll do anything to make Chloe like me. Jesus, I sound like a twelve year old thinking that. But it's kinda true too.

"So it's just the three of us?" I ask, looking around. "Will your boyfriend be joining us too?"

They both gasp at the same time, Ed harder than Chloe. He's glaring at her now, and her cheeks are growing redder and redder.

As I thought, there is no boyfriend. But I think this Ed dude really wants to be. Since I got my answer, there's no need to embarrass her further, so I just pick up a bunch of the tools they brought and head to the building we examined yesterday, then up the ravine. They follow a few paces behind.

The ground here is still muddy, which is good, since it'll help me better judge where the ditch needs to go. But my feet are sinking into it up to the ankles in places, which is less good.

Once I reach the top, I dump the shovels onto a dry patch of ground, take out the sandwich she brought me, and start eating as I walk around trying to find the origin of all that damn water. It comes down hard somewhere, but since everything is drying so fast, it's hard to tell where.

Chloe and Eduardo are talking in fast, clipped voices, but they're whispering, so I can't understand what they're saying. But I already know. He's not happy I'm here.

And he won't be happy to hear I'm staying for at least a week or two. Because I just found the origin of all the water. And it will take more than a week of digging to divert it. Hell, with no machinery and no real man power apart from myself, it could take a month. That's about my upper limit for staying in the same spot. But Chloe's gonna make it all worth it.

Chloe

I have to stop smiling at him every chance I get. But he's here helping me, because he likes me, and even though nothing will happen between us I keep defaulting back to the friendly, smiling girl I used to be. I don't even have to force it when I smile at him, I'll give him that.

He also seems to know what he's doing, so all that about working in construction and living in Alaska where he solved a similar problem maybe wasn't a lie.

He’s been inspecting the streams for almost half an hour now. He's neither smiling nor grinning anymore.

"The way I see it, most of the water comes down past that big house over there," he says, pointing at Dom Gustavo’s residence. "The best thing to do would be to ask them to divert the water using tubes and pipes. Do you have any contact with them?"

"No one lives there now," I say. "Dom Gustavo funded the orphanage while he was alive the best he could. But he died just over a month ago. That house and this land was all he had and he left it to the orphanage."

"So sell the house, and then you can fund this project," Rider says. "Or just move the kids into that huge house, and let those rickety bungalows get washed away."

I share a look with Ed. Gustavo did leave everything to the orphanage, but no one will buy his house or the land. The cartel operating in this area is trying to just take it from us. But I don't want to tell Rider all that, because I don't want to frighten him off. I have a plan to offer the cartel the house and most of the land, if they let us keep the part where the orphanage is, but I haven't yet managed to find out who to talk to about that.

"You said a ditch would work," I say instead. "Where should we put it?"

He gives me an amused, questioning look. "You need a ditch going all around that settlement of yours down there. And the point where it starts needs to be a deep, wide pool right there." He points to a spot to the left and about twenty yards from Gustavo's home. "I'd hate to attempt that without a bulldozer, but you say you have no heavy machinery. Can we rent one from someone in the village?"

"No." I was willing to dip into my savings, or, rather, go even deeper into debt to hire someone by offering lots of money to the local workers for their help, but they're all too scared of the cartel.

Rider shakes his head. "Alright, well, let's do some planning. And then me and Ed here will get started. I'm sure he's dying to get some work out of those muscles of his."

Ed has muscles, sure, but he's half Rider's size, so that was a clear jibe, which I'm sure Ed understood as such.

"I'm gonna help too," I say to forestall any argument between them.

"This is man's work," Rider says, and even though he's grinning, I think he might actually be serious.

"Nonsense. You'll need all the help you can get, and I don't mind getting my hands dirty."

Somehow he took that in a sexual way, because his eyes just softened and fixed on my breasts for a second.

"Why don't you go make us some nice lemonade and bring back whatever other guys are working here. Your boyfriend for starters." He knows I lied about that, there's no doubt in my mind. But he's not asking directly, so I'm not admitting to the lie.

"The only other adult working here is Olivia, and she'll come and help once the morning lessons are done," I say instead. "Now tell me where to start digging."

"There's just the three of you taking care of all those kids?" he asks. "There must be fifty of them going by the noise they made this morning."

"There’s twenty of them," Eduardo says. "Ranging in ages from seven to fourteen."

"That's a lot of kids for just three people to take care of," Rider says, and he sounds genuinely concerned.

"There were more of us, but they left after Dom Gustavo died. It was because—"

"More will come," I interrupt Eduardo's explanation before he mentions the situation with the cartel. He sounds very confrontational, and the last thing we need is him driving Rider away.

"Unlikely," Ed huffs, but doesn't continue talking after I give him a sharp look. We already discussed and agreed that it's best we keep Rider in the dark about our problem with the cartel for as long as possible, so he doesn't bolt on us. But I think Ed wants exactly that to happen.

"Alright, if that's the case we better get digging," Rider says, shooting me another grin. "Hopefully the reinforcements will arrive to relieve us soon."

I don't smile at him this time, since that was a bold faced lie on my part. No one's coming, and I think Olivia is about to leave too.

Rider marks off the site for the pool and the beginnings of the two ditches, which will come out of it. After that he starts digging, and me and Ed do the same.

Within less than an hour, sweat is running down my face, which must be as red as Ed’s, while Rider is not even winded. I keep swinging away with the shovel, trying to ignore the fact that all of the work we've done so far is about one millionth of what's left to do.

Soon my arms feel like lead and my back is burning, but I won't admit defeat. The only indication that Rider is feeling the effects of the work is the fact that he took off his shirt. So now I'm forced to ignore the bulky muscles in his arms and wide back flexing and extending, which is proving very hard. I wouldn't mind sitting in the shade, sipping some lemonade and watching him work all day. I'd bring him some too, once in a while, so he could quench the thirst he's building up.

I shake my head to get that picture out of my head. I'm not that kind of woman. I don't need to be taken care of by a man.

My shovel hits a giant rock, and the jarring impact makes me lose my balance. My legs and arms were already shaking from tiredness before and now they won't support me as I try to stay upright, causing me to land ass first in the mud.

Rider stops digging, trying really hard not to laugh, as he strides over and offers his hand to help me up. "You alright there, Chloe? Maybe you should take a break."

I wave his arm away and stand up on my own, brushing the mud off my ass and legs, very aware my face must be tomato red right now.

"I'm serious, take a break," he says. "It's hot, and you're not used to this kind of hard work."

"I'm fine," I say, picking up my shovel although I'm not sure I can actually lift it again.

But I do. And I feel his gaze on my back as I start digging again, hotter than the sun beating down. He doesn’t like me giving him the cold shoulder all the time, that much is clear from his face. But I'm so tired, I just don't care.

So I just keep digging, and I'll do it until I pass out. He may be the hottest guy I've seen in practically forever, and he wants me, but that doesn't mean I have to take him to bed.

I hear the chatter of the children approaching right before the first of them appear on top of the hill. The sun is blasting right down onto us now, so I guess it must be noon and the end of their lessons.

Rider sees them too, and sticks his shovel into the ground, looking at them with a smile on his face. "Looks like the reinforcements have arrived. And not a moment too soon, right, Chloe?"

Oh, the kids were the reinforcements he was talking about before. I'm probably purple in the face from the exertion, and I'm also pretty much covered in mud. As far as I'm concerned he's totally right. So I just smile at him and shrug.

The first of the children reach us, and Rider is looking from on to the other, smiling even wider than he smiles at me.

"You guys look strong," he says to Diego and Pedro, the two oldest boys who are staring at him like he's from another planet.

"You speak English, don't you?" Rider asks.

"Yes," Pedro says. "Who are you?"

"I'm Rider," he says. "And I'm here to help you dig a ditch. And what is your name?"

"I'm Pedro and this is Diego. What is a ditch?"

Rider smiles even wider and then explains all about what we're doing, talking slowly and with perfect diction to make sure they understand. I would never have guessed he can speak such flawless English. "You two want to give me a hand here? I think Chloe needs a break, don't you?"

The rest of the children reached us while Rider was explaining what we're doing, and they all look at me now.

"She does look very tired. Her face is red." Diego says, giggling. The others giggle too, nodding their heads. And I'm pretty sure my face just turned even redder.

"Alright, alright.” I try to stick my shovel in the ground like Rider did, but it barely breaks the surface, and just falls. "Maybe I do need a break."

"So how about it?" Rider asks them, while grinning over his shoulder at me.

Diego rushes forward to pick up my shovel. Eduardo gets his shovel taken away by Pedro, and I think he's just as happy as me to go find some shade to rest in. Rider, on the other hand, looks as rested as he was this morning as he gives the children instructions.

"And the rest of you can go find some wood and rocks, so we can reinforce this hole we're digging," Rider is telling them. "The ground is hard now, but the mud it turns into when it rains is just like play doh. Do you know what play doh is?"

None of them do, so he explains that to them too with a lot of gesturing and demonstrating.

Rider is the last person in the world I'd expect to take this naturally to children, but he looks like he's right where he belongs, and even the shy ones are asking him questions before long.

"Where did you find this man?" Olivia asks, fixing her glasses as she looks at Rider, and only barely concealing the giggle in her voice.

"She picked him up in Fernando's bar last night," Ed answers instead of me, and he doesn't sound pleased about it at all.

"Well, I don't blame you," Olivia says, winking at me. “I better go see if he has a job for me too. You go take your break."

Olivia is a black haired, skinny and geeky girl, but she's a hundred times more confident than anyone I know. I love her dearly, but as she goes up to Rider and starts chatting to him I feel the strongest pang of jealousy. Stronger than any I've felt before. But it passes just as quickly. They should hook up, then maybe he'll stop looking at me with that stark desire in his eyes. I'm not ready to be with a guy, even if he's a hunky, muscled god of a man, who's also great with the orphaned children that mean everything to me.

Chapter 4

Chloe

I left the dig site with the younger children about four hours ago, expecting the rest to join us soon. Now the children I brought with me are washed, fed and asleep, and the stew I made for dinner is cold and congealed.

I'm just about to go in search of the others when I hear them coming down the ravine, Olivia and Ed in front, Pedro and Diego chattering excitedly with Rider a few steps behind them. They're all covered in dirt, and Olivia and Ed look positively dead tired. Rider, on the other hand, looks like he could still keep working if he had to.

I wave to them. "I made dinner."

Rider's the first one to look at me, and even at this distance I can tell he thinks I'm the only dinner he needs. I usher Pedro, Diego and the other older kids who stayed to help with the digging away to get them cleaned up before dinner. They're all big boys and girls, and they don't need me babying them like this, but I have to get away from the hunger in Rider's eyes. What he wants from me won't happen. It can't.

Once I get the kids cleaned up and into their pajamas, only Olivia is still at the cafeteria. The kids are still very excited about meeting Rider and doing actual, important work today, but I’m hoping they’ll settle down after they eat.

"How much did you get done?" I ask Olivia.

"I'd say not much at all, but your man Rider said we're making good progress," she says, smiling at me.

"He's not my man," I counter.

"Well, he only has eyes for you. And I think he was rather disappointed you didn't return to the dig site."

I don't know if hearing her say that makes me happy or scared. It’s bit of both.

"There's a couple of beers left," Olivia says. "Go take them to him. There's no sense in letting a guy like that go to waste."

She winks at me as she says it.

"You do it," I counter, mumbling the words. "I don't need any complications."

"I'd call him a lot of things, but complication isn't one of them. And I would go in a split second, but I’m sure he only wants you."

And that's a problem.

So I follow her advice, get the last two bottles of beer from the cooler and head to Rider's bungalow before I change my mind. It's time I made it clear where we stand.

And I was pretty clear on that, almost one hundred percent, until I reached the shower stalls. He's using the one with the ripped shower curtain.

Water is running down his back in snaking rivulets, pooling in the dimples on his lower back and catching the light of the setting sun. He's washing his hair and doesn’t see me, but in a minute he'll rinse off and turn. I want him to turn.

And that thought finally snaps me back to reality. I rush to his bungalow to wait for him on the steps. He comes a few minutes later, the tiniest towel wrapped around his hips. It just barely covers his cock, the flap gaping over his thigh. My whole face is burning, along with my neck and chest as I imagine it falling open.

He's grinning at me like he knows exactly what I'm thinking, which just makes it worse

"Here, I brought you a beer," I say, holding a bottle out to him.

He winks at me and takes it, then drinks the whole thing in one long gulp.

"That was great," he says and hands me the empty bottle. "Now go put on a dress. I'm taking you out to dinner."

I'm opening and closing my mouth, thoughts flashing through my mind so fast it's blank.

"But…but you already ate," I finally squeeze out.

"And your turnip stew was delicious," he says grinning at me. "But after all that digging, I need some meat."

This isn't how I pictured our conversation going, so I have no idea what to say.

"Come on, Chloe," he says, that insufferably inviting grin of his more of a smirk now. "Stop fighting it so hard. You know you want to come, it's all over your face. I'll meet you by the garage in fifteen minutes."

He runs up the stairs, taking two at a time and sending the whole bungalow shaking.

"And if I don't?" I yell after him.

He stops and turns, giving me a questioning look. "What?"

"Will you come back, if I don't go to dinner with you?" I elaborate. It's not an easy thing to ask, so my voice is all strangled and stern.

"I'll come back and dig this ditch for you like I promised," he says, not smirking anymore. "I don't need anything in return. But I'd like to take you to dinner."

He climbs the rest of the way and enters the bungalow without waiting for me to say anything else.

I only stop at my own bungalow long enough to comb my hair and change my shoes. But even as I wait for him in front of the garage I still don't know if this dinner is a good idea. But it's not a bad one either, and I know that.

Rider

No, it's not OK that she won't just fall into my arms like I can see she wants to. And no, it's not OK that she's not wearing a dress like I suggested she should. But it's absolutely perfect that she's waiting for me at the garage, so those two not-OK things don't matter very much at all. Well, the dress doesn't matter, she looks great in anything she puts on.

I take one look at my mud-caked bike, realize I should've cleaned that shit off this morning, and that it would take me at least two hours to do it now, and smile at her.

"Good thing you decided to accept my invitation," I say. "Because you're gonna have to drive."

"OK," she says, and I hear her relief loud and clear.

I lean back in my seat once we're driving, taking in the scenery and allowing her to start the conversation.

"I really appreciate all your help," she finally says, once the first thatched roofs of the village come into view. I can smell meat roasting over an open flame, and it has already more or less chased away all my annoyance at her insinuation that I'm only sticking around because I want to fuck her. I'm a simple guy like that, and very adaptable. Would I like to see those round breasts of hers bouncing, while I fuck her so hard she forgets whatever’s making her so uptight? Hell, yes. But I can live without it. I’d rather not, but I can. And since I'm clearly the only person who can prevent those orphans having a swimming pool instead of bedrooms and classrooms this rainy season, I'm gonna have to endure it. Won't be easy, but few things in this life are.

"Let's stop here and get some of this barbecue," I say, pointing at a group of villagers standing around the fire where a pig is roasting.

"No, there's a nice place near here," she says and actually speeds up.

"Why? I could talk some of those dudes into coming to help me dig tomorrow."

"They won't," she says very quietly.

"Let me talk to them, I’m good at talking people into doing things," I say and the sharp look she gives me actually wipes the grin right off my face. Clearly she assumed I'm talking about something other than what I said. Women will do that.

"I mean, you guys and the kids are great helpers, but if we actually want to finish this job fast, we're gonna need some real man power."

She casts me a glance like she's trying to see how serious I am then breaks hard and takes a sharp left into the trees. I'm just about to ask her where the fuck we're going when the jungle opens up into a clearing with a single hut-like structure surrounded by plastic tables and chairs. They have a pig roasting here too, there's music playing, people are dancing, and it seems like we're already late to the party.

"This is the place," she says and smiles at me for the first time since this morning. I wish she'd smile more often. And I want to tell her that, but she'll just take it the wrong way again and stop doing it.

Meat and beer is the only thing on the menu, and apart from a rather scared looking couple at one of the end tables, we're the only non-locals here.

"See, you should've worn a dress," I say, pointing at the two local, middle-aged women swaying their hips to the music like there's no tomorrow. I wouldn't mind watching Chloe do that.

"Yeah, after all that digging, I'm not really in the mood for dancing," she says, just as a waitress brings us each a large plastic glass of beer.

"To eat?" she asks.

Chloe rattles off something in Brazilian before I even open my mouth. I understand Spanish, but the language they speak here is not very much like it. I thought it might be, but I was wrong.

"So, what did you get us?" I ask once the waitress finally retreats again.

"Pork and bread," she says. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

I nod. "So, the digging wiped you out?"

"You're not tired?" she asks, her eyes lingering on my arms long enough to be obvious, and to once again remind me that whatever it is that’s keeping the two of us from having some nighttime fun, while I'm here has nothing to do with lack of attraction on her part.

"There's a lot of digging left to do," I say. "I'll be tired when it's done."

"Do you really not think we can do it by ourselves?" she asks, looking very sad at the prospect.

I take her hand, which she's conveniently laid out on the table. Just touching her skin is enough to make me reconsider all that about being OK with not fucking her. But the frozen look in her eyes makes me release her.

"I can dig the ditches by myself," I say. "It could take a couple of weeks though. You sure you want me around for that long?"

I'm not sure why I even asked her that. I added it as an afterthought, but it's a loud one. She needs me, sure, even came to dinner with me, but that ice in her eyes every time I try to get a little closer is telling me she just wants me gone as soon as possible. And I fucking hate seeing that. It brings up all sorts of shit from my past that I don't want to remember.

"Yes, I do. Why do you even ask that?" She grabs my hand and squeezes, but lets go immediately like it was an unconscious gesture. "I don’t know what I’d do without your help."

"You don't look it," I hear myself say, still not sure why I'm goading her. But she started this whole honesty thing as far as our relationship is concerned, and I do like to know where I stand.

Her face turns red, but the meat arrives just then, which automatically puts me in a better mood. We eat our meal in silence, and after I drink my second beer and clear up her leftovers, I'm perfectly content again. The only thing that would make me even happier would be her sitting on my lap.

"I can pay you for your time," she says after the waitress brings me a third beer and clears away the plates. "A hundred dollars a day, so fourteen hundred for the two weeks."

She sounds like she's been figuring this out all through dinner and getting up the nerve to actually say it. I could use some money, that's a cold, hard fact, but I won't be taking it from her.

"Just seeing the smile on those orphans' faces is payment enough for me," I say instead. Chloe would be a bonus, but I wasn't thinking of her giving herself to me as payment before, and I won't now.

She snorts. "That’s such a cliché, Rider."

I lean back in my seat. "It might sound like a cliché, but I mean it. I grew up in an orphanage a lot like this one. Well, OK, it was in Las Vegas, but we also didn't have much of anything." Though we could've had more if Father O'Reilly didn't drink so much. And here I go again telling her about my past. "So I am doing this for the kids, you can believe that."

The look on her face is something between sadness and wonder, but I think she doesn't really believe me.

"I'm sorry," she says and gives me the same smile I've seen her give the orphans when she talks to them. It makes her look as beautiful as any statue of the Virgin Mary, and makes me want her even more.

"For what?" I ask, since I want her to keep looking at me like that.

"For being an orphan," she says. "It's so sad not having a family."

"My mother's still around," I say. "She's married to some rich dentist and lives in the suburbs of Vegas. She just dumped me off at the orphanage, because I was getting in the way of her achieving all that."

Chloe’s eyes are actually misting over, and everything on her face is telling me she would never do a thing like that. Not to me, not to anyone.

"That's so horrible," she says in a whisper.

"I was seven years old when she left me at the bus stop in front of Father O'Reilly's church, saying she'll be back, and if she wasn't that I'm to go into the church and give them the letter she left with me. I sat on that bench from noon until eight PM when Father O'Reilly finally came out to see, if I was alright. I kept waiting for that bitch to come get me for the next eight years until Father O'Reilly died, and I went out on my own. She never did. She didn't even have the guts to abandon me properly. Just left me sitting on a bench in the middle of the city telling me she'll be back. They shut down the orphanage after Father O’Reilly died, but I didn’t want to go into the foster system, so I just set out on my own. And I've been riding ever since. Floating from place to place, never setting up home anywhere."

I told her the full story, since it's been floating around in my mind all day. I don't think I've ever told it to anyone before. But Chloe looked like she might understand. But after it's all out of my mouth, I realize I've just dumped a whole shitload of personal crap on her, and I've known her for less than a day. She struck me as someone who might understand and listen without judging. I’m good at getting the measure of people fast, had to learn how to read strangers, because I’ve been on my own since my teens, and I’ve never met anyone as naturally honest, giving and caring as Chloe.

"But that was more than fifteen years ago. I'm over it. Been over it for a long time," I add. "I just wanted you to understand that I really do want to help your orphans."

She nods, that saintly look still on her face. Our conversation flows better after that, and I get no more frozen looks as she explains about her work at the orphanage and where all the kids there come from. Sad stories, every last one of them, much sadder than my own.

"And why did you come here?" I ask, since I do want to hear her story too.

"I wanted to help. I’ve always wanted to do what I can for the orphans and the less fortunate of this world."

Like me. And I know just what she could do for me.

I'm tipsy enough to think it, but I won't say it. She sounds completely honest, and I believe she really does want to help. And in this world that's so full of fake, self-serving people, that's a very refreshing thing.

She waves the waitress over to pay. "We should go back and get some rest."

She lets me pick up the check, but not without arguing.

And the conversation keeps flowing easily right up until we're standing in moonlit silence in front of the garage back at the orphanage.

I want to kiss her. More than ever.

And since I'm no good at not doing exactly what I want to, when I want to, I lean in and pull her to me and do just that. She tastes about as good as the first girl that let me kiss her, only better, since that time it was mostly about the kiss, and this time it's all about the girl. And the best part is, she's returning my kiss, her hands resting on my waist, and her tongue very friendly with mine.

I'm just about to lift her up and carry her somewhere more comfortable, when she pushes me away.

"No, we can't do this," she whispers, shock plain on her face.

"Why the hell not?" I ask, grinning, since I'm still lightheaded from the touch of her lips.

"Just no, OK," she says. She sounds like she's pleading.

"Give me one good reason," I coax, then remember I might get the lie about the boyfriend, and add, "But make it a true one. I know you want this as much as I do."

"No, I don't," she says sternly. "Good night."

And then she just stalks off, leaving me with a raging hard on and no kind of fucking answer.

"I asked for the truth, Chloe," I call after her. "And that was a lie."

I follow her, could overtake her, but decide not to try when she starts walking even faster. I stop once she jogs up the stairs leading to her bungalow. And, yeah, the alpha male in me wants to go after her, kick down her door and show her exactly what she wants. But she's not ready for that kind of treatment yet.

So instead I spend the next several hours cleaning the mud off my bike until it's gleaming like new, and I'm calm enough to try and sleep. I'll respect her wishes, but it'll take a monstrous effort now that I've gotten a taste of her.

Chapter 5

Chloe

I didn't get much sleep after that kiss. The kiss that I very nearly let lead to something a lot more. My whole body was screaming for it, but my mind wasn't on board. I have so many fears when it comes to sex, stuff people don't understand when I try to explain, but I lost everything, because I forgot to be smart in a moment of passion, and that can happen again.

What if, despite his very sad story, which I think was all true, he just wants to fuck me and will ride on out of here as soon as I let that happen? Two weeks of hard labor is a lot to be doing for free. He seems to be a generous, kind man deep down, but he still doesn't strike me as a guy who does a lot just out of the kindness of his heart. He's a biker. A real-life motorcycle gang member. I don't know much about those, but I know they're bad news.

Thinking about all that kept me up half the night. Though that was mostly because of the kiss. The kiss that had me struggling not to go visit him in the middle of the night, so he could kiss me again.

When I went to wake him in the morning, he wasn't there. That scared me, and it wasn't just because me, Olivia and Ed would have to dig the ditches ourselves if he did leave. It was also because I'd never get that second kiss.

So I was relieved when I found his bike still in the garage. It was clean as a whistle, not a trace of the mud left. And my heart made a couple of somersaults in my stomach when I found him already digging, shirtless, the morning sun glistening off the beads of sweat on his back, and on his forehead, as he bid me a very curt "Good morning". He took the breakfast I'd brought him and ate it in silence. Then we spent the next few hours digging in silence. Ed joined us too, equally silent.

"It's going really well, don't you think?" I finally asked him, while he was taking his first break around noon.

"Sure," he replied and picked up his shovel to get back to work.

"We're gonna act like ten year olds over this?" I asked rather exasperatedly.

"I don't like being lied to, Chloe," he said, eyeing me over his shoulder, his emerald green eyes catching the sunlight and gleaming like real jewels.

I did lie, I couldn't argue with that. Because I do want him.

I just turned and left after that, because he sounded genuinely upset, and I didn't know what to tell him. Yes, I lied, yes, I mistrusted him, and no, I never want him to know that.

Ed came down while I was giving the kids their English lesson, tried to get me to tell him what that was all about, but I didn't want to get into it with him either.

I let Ed prepare dinner, while I went to my bungalow to try and figure out what the hell is going on. Ended up falling asleep, since I haven't gotten much of that these last few nights.

But my head is clear when I wake up. Rider told me his whole story, and he'd been honest with me from the start. I've pretty much only lied to him.

I need to fix that else he'll leave because of my lies, and I'll have caused my worst fear. I practically run to his bungalow and knock on the door without thinking twice. Because if I did, I'd change my mind again.

But it's very late, and I only realize that after he opens the door, his eyes slits.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

That simple question breaks a dam in my mind. So much is wrong. My world shattered when an ex-boyfriend uploaded the sex vids we made to porn sites after I broke up with him. The videos went viral, and I was kicked out of school, random strangers in the street would feel me up and want me to fuck them on tape, my dad was getting emails with the link to the videos. Everyone thought I was a porn star wannabe, even some of my closest friends, and most of them didn't approve. I'd been hanging out with guy surfers since my teens, we were friends, but after that they all wanted to get laid. Gangbangs were mentioned. Filming them was too. The only way out of it that I could see was to leave it all behind. And now this life I've built, helping these poor orphaned kids, is falling apart too. It's not just the flooding, the cartel is trying to run us off too, and then where will I go? How will I protect these kids? The orphanages in the cities are awful. They shoot kids that no one wants in this country. I need to save the ones I can. And I don't know, if I have it in me to start over again if I fail.

And while all that is rushing though my brain, I'm completely silent, just looking into Rider's eyes, which are now open all the way. I can't tell him all that.

"Lots is wrong," I whisper instead. He pulls me to him by my waist, getting the wrong idea, but only slightly.

"Let's fix some of it then," he says and kisses me.

And the panic I felt just a second ago looses its sting. His kiss is hard and hungry, yet gentle and considerate too, and I surrender to it. Let all my worries, fears and inhibitions just float away until nothing but the fluttering butterflies, and the liquid warmth his kiss is flooding my chest and belly with, remains. It's easy to just let it happen, I don't have to force it at all.

He pulls me into the room, slams the door shut behind us, and then we're just kissing in near perfect darkness, two strangers coming together for a night of pleasure. Only I see him clearly despite the darkness, see him with my mind, and he's a beautiful being of golden light just as I am.

His lips find my neck, his hands sneaking up under my shirt, grabbing my ass, and mine are just as adventurous on his body. I've wanted to feel those biceps of his since I saw him that first night in the bar, and they're as hard and coiled as I imagined they would be. And his washboard abs might as well be made of metal they're so hard and unyielding.

He takes a step back and lifts up my shirt. I raise my arms and let him undress me. Slivers of moonlight are coming through the cracks in the walls and the shutters on the windows, and his body is slashed with light, illuminating all the important parts. His eyes are glowing green like a cat’s, and his boxers, which are the only thing he's wearing are tenting up. He grabs my breasts, squeezing them together as he gives me another hungry wet kiss.

I undo the string holding my shorts up, let them fall to the ground. He wastes no time, his fingers sliding under my panties and connecting with my clit, sending sharp currents of electricity all through my body. He pushes a finger into my pussy, adds another before I’ve fully adjusted to the first. Yet he has me moaning and wriggling as he opens me up with his fingers, screeching as he starts pumping them in and out faster and faster. He’s kissing my neck, my breasts, nipping and sucking on my nipples, his thumb rubbing my clit in just the right way, bringing me closer and closer to that sheer earth-shattering bliss I've denied myself for so long. Right now, I have no idea why I swore off sex, because this is heaven.

I slide my hand down the hard ripples of his abs, but I don't stop once I reach the end. Instead, I continue down the front of his boxers, close my palm around his throbbing cock. Or try to, since my fingers don't reach all the way around, and I have long fingers. He groans as I grip his cock, his fingers buried deep in my pussy but no longer moving.

I stroke his shaft up to the head, realize it's long too, not just fat, and alarm bells are going off in the back of my mind. But they have no chance of stopping my body's need to have this monster inside me.

"I was right, you do want it," he says hoarsely, and removes his fingers from my pussy, pushing me down to my knees with his other hand. I go gladly, lick the head as soon as my mouth is level with his cock.

"Go on," he urges, and I open my mouth wide and take him in my mouth. He pushes in, letting out a very long breath, which sounds a lot like relief.

His cock barely fits, yet feels so good against my tongue, tastes so good, I could literally just suck him off for hours. And I start to do just that, bobbing up and down, licking, nipping, feeling his racing heartbeat with my tongue.

But he takes over before long, grabs the back of my head and starts forcing more and more of his cock down my throat, making me gag on each thrust. Tears soon start running down my face, but that's a physical reaction, because all of my mind is focused on accommodating his cock down my throat as best I can, because I want to. I've never been taken with this kind of animal passion, didn't know it was possible, but damn did I miss it, and I want more, want it harder. This is how sex should be. Hard and wild and passionate. My pussy is twitching and yearning for what my throat is getting.

As though he heard my thought, he pulls out and lifts me to my feet. And before I know it, I'm bent over the bed, my panties around my ankles, his cock demanding entrance into my pussy, which is much too tight for it.

I whimper as the head of his cock slides into me, come up on my toes as he forces more of it inside. I've never been this full, never stretched open so completely and more is coming. I want it and I fear it at the same time.

He pulls out a little then thrusts back in deeper, does it again and again, making me shriek each time. He's showing my pussy the same wild passion he used on my mouth, only there are less barriers now, and before I know it, I feel his cock somewhere near my throat again. I want it harder, want it all, because all my inhibitions and doubts, fears and regrets, are getting blown away by this hurricane of pleasure he's stirring up inside me. There’s so much pleasure there’s almost too much, but his strong hands are gripping my hips, not letting me escape the onslaught. I'm on my toes, my legs shaking, my hands gripping the sheets on his bed, my nails scratching against the wooden walls, searching for something, anything, to hold on to, to keep me grounded as his cock hits all the right spots inside me and then some.

He picks up the pace, his thrusts now wild and deep, fast and hard, vicious. Amid my screeches and screams, I forget how to breathe for a few moments. He doesn't slow his thrusts as my pussy clenches around his cock and I come so hard the darkness of my vision is filled with synapses firing in bright, burning colors. My whole being, every last fiber and nerve ending, is coming back to life. I'm coming back to life. The intense pleasure filling me is just short of outright agony, and it keeps building as his jabs get even wilder and faster. He's pulling my hair back now, one hand still gripping my hip, forcing my body into the perfect position to give himself release too.

I don't even try to resist anymore, just give my body to him, to his thrusting cock, his need—our need—to take me like the animals we both are, as he gives me orgasm after blinding, searing, mind-bending orgasm of the kind I didn't even know were possible.

My pussy is still throbbing, still feels full of his cock, when I wake up in his arms on the narrow bed with no idea how we got there.

"You like it rough, don't you?" he asks softly, his hand tracing a path from my nipples, down to my pulsing, well used pussy and back up.

"I've never had it like that," I admit, smiling at him as my hand slides down to his cock, which is still half hard.

I want it all the way hard, and I want him to fill me again. Although I'm not sure if I can take it.

"That was what you wanted, right?" he asks, and I'm not sure, if he wants me to tell him I lied last night, or whether he thinks he forced me tonight.

"Yes. I just wasn't sure until you showed me," I whisper since that sort of answers both his questions at the same time.

He kisses me, the gentleness so at odds with the wild, rough way he took me before it sends my mind spinning into a soft, impenetrable fog. But that's OK. I don't have to think. I just have to enjoy this. The way I would back before surrendering to passion and pleasure took absolutely everything from me. And I can let myself enjoy it, because Rider is here to help me rebuild it all.

Chapter 6

Chloe

By the next evening, the large hole we've been digging is pretty much done. The sky over the jungle is bright purple with the setting sun, and Rider and me are the only ones left at the dig site. Ed kept giving us dirty looks all day, since Rider couldn't keep his hands or his lips off me. He didn't say anything, but left as soon as Olivia brought the kids, and hasn't been back since. He's probably not happy that I hooked up with Rider right after rejecting him, but I don't owe him anything, not even an explanation. Though I might offer that, if he asks.

I'm leaning on my shovel, looking over what we've already done. "Tomorrow we start on the ditches, right? I want to get as much as we can done before the next rain."

Rider comes over and grabs hold of me from behind. "Yeah, the ditches tomorrow. And I'm not worried about the rain, there's no clouds anywhere."

I drop the shovel and lean back into him, hold onto his strong arms as I let him support most of my weight. It's so easy to let go with him. Let go of everything, even standing on my own. Somehow, I'm sure he'll always support me, which is crazy, but it's what I feel, and it's been a long time, since I’ve felt this light and carefree, or let myself surrender to my feelings. I missed it. "I hope so. Though I don't know how much more digging I got in me."

"You'll get stronger," he whispers into my ear, then kisses my neck, his hand sliding under my shirt, squeezing my breast before he pinches my nipple. His other hand slides into my shorts, is fingers finding my clit just as he bites my neck. I moan, lean my head back and offer him my lips.

I'm sticky and sweaty and covered in dirt, but I feel sexier and more desirable than I ever had. And I want him inside me so bad my legs are shaking. I've never wanted a man as much as I desire Rider. And it's not just because he's hunky and tall, and I've gone without sex for years. But that's not what I'm thinking about. I'm not thinking about anything much, just riding this wave of desire that makes me feel alive again in ways I haven't been in years. I actually don't remember ever feeling as alive as I do with Rider.

"Someone will see us," I moan as he starts rubbing my clit faster, his hard cock jabbing me in the lower back.

"You're right, let's go into the jungle," he says and releases me so fast and so completely I stumble. But he lifts me into his arms like a bride before there's any chance of me falling.

I can't believe he has enough strength left to carry me anywhere after a full day of digging, let alone all the way into the trees fifty yards from the dig site.

"You're not too tired from the digging, I see," I say as he sets me down under an ancient palm tree.

He shakes his head, his eyes glazed over with desire, and his lips curled up into a tiny, inviting smile. "Working hard makes me horny as hell. Seeing you work just as hard makes it even worse. Take off your clothes for me."

He's already undoing his belt, and the hard mass of his cock is unmistakable even under the thick fabric of his jeans. I want it so much my pussy is clenching on its own now in anticipation. But we're still so close to the field…

"Go on," he says. "Don't make me rip them off you."

I don't know if he's serious or not, but the threat is so tantalizing I consider making him carry it out. But then I'd have nothing to wear back to camp.

So I do as he says, removing my shirt first and then my shorts, my bra and my panties last, until I'm standing in front of him completely naked, my whole body shivering under his hungry, predatory stare.

He unzips his jeans, lets them fall along with is boxers and steps out of them. We're both naked now. Like two of the first people, back at the dawn of time, before things were as complicated as they are now.

"You're my little jungle princess, aren't you?" he says.

I nod and bite my lip, have a hard time not staring at his cock. It's so big, I can't believe it was inside me last night. Thank God it was dark, else I'd never have let him fuck me with it.

He charges forward, and lifts me up again, from the front this time, his hard kiss taking my breath. I don't realize what his full plan is until his strong hands are gripping the backs of my thighs almost painfully, and the fat head of his cock starts pressing into my pussy. My legs are spread wide around his waist, his arms on my thighs and mine around his neck the only things holding me up. He has me right where he wants me, and there's not a damn thing I can do to prevent him from impaling me on his massive cock. Not that I want to stop it.

I gasp as he lowers me onto his cock, going slowly a first, but it's still enough for me to see stars in broad daylight. I've just managed to regain my breath, when he drops me down onto his cock, thrusting up as he does so, and making me scream. At least half of his massive girth is now buried inside me, and I'm seeing whole galaxies not just stars.

He starts thrusting into me, gravity helping him impale me deeper and deeper. I'm moaning and shrieking, trying not to scream again, because I mustn’t, else someone will come looking what's wrong. So I grip his neck tighter, digging my nails into his muscles, and bite down on his shoulder, which only makes his thrusts harder and deeper, wilder. But it's exactly what I need and what I want, and my whole body convulses as the first wave of piercing hot pleasure rips through my pussy, splitting my whole body down the middle with bliss.

His cock is filling me so completely, I feel his thrusts in my chest, in my throat, in my mind, and the orgasms he's giving me are blending together, mending the tears in my soul, in my being, crating a blanket of pure pleasure that will cover me forever, and which no bad thing can ever rip again.

He buries his cock inside me one last time and stops, its pulses matching the beat of my own heart as he comes too. I kiss the spot where I bit him before, then his lips find mine again, weaving the blanket of warmth even tighter, making it a shield.

It's almost dark by the time we stumble out of the jungle. I'm walking a little gingerly, since I still feel all of his girth deep inside me. But I can't wait until we've eaten and showered, and I'm laying in his arms. Then we can do it all over again.

Chapter 7

Chloe

It's been just over a week since we started digging, and the ditches are pretty much done. They encircle the orphanage like a moat and feed into the stream that runs along the fence surrounding Dom Gustavo's property. All that's left is to reinforce it all with the wooden stakes Rider has spent most of the morning chopping up. I told him to go rest once he was done, telling him he earned it, and that we'd finish up.

I just took a shower and am trying to find a dress to wear for when I go wake him from his nap. All my nice dresses are still packed up in the suitcases I came here with, which are somewhere in Dom Gustavo's house and have been since I arrived. But I do have a few beach dresses in my bungalow, and they'll have to do. It still takes me awhile to find one that's not all bleached from the sun and the rough soap we use for washing clothes. Its stripes are still mostly red and white.

But Rider isn't at his bungalow, nor in the cafeteria where Ed is eating his dinner alone, looking very grim.

"Have you seen Rider?" I ask anyway.

Me and Ed haven't really spoken much this last week, since my days were taken up by the digging, trying to keep up with the children's lessons, and my nights belonged solely to Rider.

"I think he's working on his bike down at the garage," Ed says. "He's probably leaving soon, now that the ditches are completed."

My heart cramps up in my chest at the thought, then starts beating very fast. Rider leaving has been in the back of my mind for the last few days, but I wouldn't let myself think about it. Nor could I bring myself to ask him what his plans were. For the first time in more than four years, I feel happy, light, the way I used to before the viral sex tapes, which took all that away from me. Once again, I feel like everything is gonna be alright, and no problem or challenge is too big to overcome.

Rider has given that back to me. With the way he holds and kisses me, the way he looks at me, and the way he makes love to me like I truly was put on this earth just for him, to be his jungle princess, his ray of sunshine. I think I'm in love with him, but it's hard to be sure, because I've never felt such passion, desire and overwhelming urge to be with someone, as I do for him. I can't picture this place with him gone, or my life without him in it. I don't want to picture it.

"He's not going to stay, you do realize that, don't you?" Ed asks harshly. "I'm pretty sure he's on the run from something bad."

"Why would you even assume that?" I ask, equally harshly.

"Well, just look at him, for one thing. That's not an innocent man under all those tattoos and muscles."

"OK, Ed, thank you for that assessment," I say and leave the room.

"Just ask him, and you'll see I'm right," he calls after me, but I ignore him.

Rider is at the garage working on his bike, but Diego, Pedro, and even shy little Kaia are there helping him. I stop a few paces from them before they see me to watch him explain what he's doing with the bike. Even Kaia is asking him questions, then listening intently to his answers. She's had a hard life, been sexually abused for years before she got here and she's only twelve years old. Even after two years of being here, she still doesn’t want to be alone with Ed. But she's talking and laughing with Rider like she's known him all her life. Whatever bad things he may or may not have done in his past, he's a good man with a kind and generous heart, and nothing will ever convince me otherwise.

But he has been working on his bike a lot these last few days and the ditches are done. He's probably preparing to leave, and I have no idea how to even begin facing that. He's given me no promises, and we haven't spoken of any kind of future together, which is probably because he never planned what we had to be more than a little fun on his way to wherever he's heading.

"So, who wants a ride?" he asks loudly, tossing the screwdriver he was using into the toolbox at his feet.

All three children raise their hands, nodding their heads excitedly as each pleads to be his first passenger.

"I do!" I say louder than the rest.

Rider turns to look at me, his gaze swallowing me up as I approach. There's no hint of an imminent departure in his eyes, and even the lust isn't as pronounced as it was in the beginning. But the loving desire in them is just as cutting, hooks me somewhere just below my bellybutton, and won't let go until I'm in his arms and we're alone. There are promises in his look too. But maybe those are just a figment of my imagination, just something I want to see.

He pulls me into his arms when I reach him, gives me a deep, long and slow kiss, which holds promises too. But we're driven apart by the giggles and "ewws" from the kids.

"Alright, you rascals," he says. "You each get one ride up to the main road and back. After that, it's Chloe's turn for the rest of the night, and you're going to sleep."

He winks at me, as the kids start complaining about me getting the whole night.

Kaia comes over and holds my hand while Rider is busy explaining to Pedro how he should sit on the back of the bike.

"You will be back, won't you?" she asks me in Portuguese.

"Yes, of course," I answer.

"And you will stay with us?" I suppose she's asking this because so many of the volunteers left after Gustavo died.

"I will never leave you," I say and squeeze her hand reassuringly.

"And Rider, he will stay too?" she asks.

"I hope so," I say, since it's my policy never to lie to the children.

"Me too," Kaia says.

"Me too," Diego, who's been listening to our conversation very intently, echoes.

"Me too," I say softly.

I’ll ask Rider if he plans to stay soon. Even though I'm petrified that his answer will be no.

We rode up the hill all the way to the top to watch the sunset over the sea below. There is one large bay below us and five smaller ones, each untouched, the sea foaming and frothing from the waves.

"That last bay has the best surf," I say pointing at it. I'd meant to do some surfing when I first got here, but my surfboard is still in its case and stored away in the back of the garage somewhere.

"Surf? You mean waves?" Rider asks absentmindedly. I'm leaning against him as we sit in the grass, his arms wrapped around me. The sun has set almost completely and we'll leave soon, but I don't want to.

"Yes, waves. I used to surf a lot when I was younger," I tell him. "I'd drive around on weekends, looking for the perfect waves, then surf all day and sometimes sleep on the beach."

"Yeah?" he says, perking up and holding me tighter. "I like to just ride, you know, go where ever the road leads, and as far as it goes."

There's such whimsical longing in his voice as he says it, I feel all the pain of missing him already. Even though he's still here, he soon won't be. I can hear that clearly in his voice. This would be a great time to ask him about his plans now that the ditches are dug, but I don't want to know until I know.

"You belong to a motorcycle gang, don't you?" I ask. "I don't know much about any of that, but do they just let you ride around as much as you want? Don't you have duties and stuff?"

He laughs, the sound originating in his chest, but reverberating all through mine as well. "I'll bet you don't know much about biker clubs, and you won't learn it from me either. But yes, I was a member of an MC, and I did have duties, but they also let me just ride as much as I wanted to."

"You're not with them anymore?" I ask, hope blossoming way too hard in my chest. Him no longer being part of a biker gang makes him one step closer to staying here with me and the kids, and I want that more the longer he holds me.

"No, it's all gone now," he says, an edge to his voice. "The VP sold us out, but it was over long before then, as far as I'm concerned. I joined for the brotherhood and the unity and to have a place to call home, I guess, but that didn't last long." He's talking like he's waited a long time to tell someone, like I'm the first person he's telling all this to. But I don't know what questions to ask.

"I loved our old President Blade, he was a great guy, someone I could really stand behind, you know?” he adds. “But there was too much fighting within the club, too much scheming and going behind his back by his younger brother Shade. And Blade ignored it for too long, or maybe he just couldn't prevent it. At least he died before it all went to hell."

"What happened?" I ask, once his pause turns into just a regular silence.

"I shouldn't even be telling you any of this," he says. "Club business is secret. Not that it matters anymore, since the club is gone."

I don't ask any more questions after that, since I can hear it in his voice he'd rather not talk about it anymore. So I just let the silence win. Silences between us are not tense, because I'm never afraid that they won't end.

"So why are you out here instead of surfing on some sunny California beach?" he asks after awhile.

"Three years ago, I came to work at an orphanage in Rio. Packed everything I owned into my car and drove down here." I started telling him more than he asked for, and now I'm not sure how to continue.

"You drove all the way from California to Brazil by yourself?" he asks, sounding very impressed. "That must've been an adventure."

"I literally just drove, didn't stop much except to sleep," I admit. "I mostly slept in my car too. Basically I just did a lot of thinking. I needed it."

"We're not that different, you and I," he muses. "Did you find any answers?"

I know exactly what he means. It was answers I was searching for while I just drove. "Some, I guess, but not all. I did find a place I can call home, though. I love taking care of the orphans."

"So you're not going back home anytime soon?" he asks, and I think maybe we're on the same page, that we both really want to stay with each other, but we're both too scared of what the other's answer will be to ask directly. I know I am.

"I doubt I'm ever going back," I say.

"Whatever you were running from must've been bad," he says and chuckles softly.

Anger at the lot I was dealt, the reason why I had to leave my home and my whole life behind, blossoms in my chest black and corrosive despite his closeness, his arms around me, despite the orphans waiting for me back home.

"What are you running away from?" I ask.

"The same thing I always ran from: Not having anywhere to call home," he says, chuckling again. "But I’ve made my peace with that. Now I just ride, because the open road is the only place I'll ever call home."

I was going to ask him to stay, but he beat me to it with this admission, and now I don't know what to say.

"We should take the kids swimming at one of those bays tomorrow," he says, while my mind is still reeling from finding out that I truly am just a pit stop on his never-ending quest to belong nowhere, and to no one.

"I'd love to, but they won't all fit in the jeep," I say more bitingly than I intended.

"They'd all fit in the minivan and the station wagon, wouldn't they?" he asks.

"They would, but those two don't run. And no mechanic in a ten mile radius can fix them."

"Why didn't you say before?" he says. "Maybe I can do it. They look like they have some years left in them with proper care."

"You're a mechanic too?" I ask, my heart fluttering since this new job will keep him around for at least a couple more days.

"Yeah, I know a thing or two. I'd usually work on cars when I wasn't building houses," he says. "I'll take a look tomorrow."

And I really hope tomorrow turns into two months. Or two years. Or forever. And that's all I'm going to think about until it's time to say goodbye.

Chapter 8

Rider

I always wake up rested even after sharing Chloe's narrow bed, which I'm pretty sure has a mattress stuffed with straw. This morning is no different, even though we spent the last three days digging like crazy and reinforcing the ditches. It started raining soon after we returned from our bike ride to the top of the hill, and the ditches worked, but only just. So I spent the last three days deepening them, just to make sure they do hold when the real rains come.

But this morning the sun is shining again, and a slight breeze is coming in through the breaks in the walls. Chloe and me deserve a day off, and it's a perfect day for it. I still think some things are a man's work, but she was right there beside me working on those ditches every day, and I can't help but admire her dedication, her stamina, and her willingness to do what it takes to get the job done right.

I've never met a woman quite like her, not since leaving the nuns who helped Father O'Reilly run our orphanage. Most of the women I've met after that were more than happy to stay home painting their nails when they weren't out spending my money. I put up with it, since I only kept them around to warm my bed in the colder, slower months of the year, or when I needed a break from riding. I certainly never tried to make a home with any of them. Home is just a thing you lose, and I've decided long ago never to lay claim to anything I'm not willing to lose.

But Chloe is nothing like those other women that came before her, she even has short nails, though she somehow still managed to scratch up my back pretty bad with them. I don't mind, and I love hearing her scream as she comes on my cock. She's certainly no nun either, and I've been having vague notions of staying here with her for reasons other than just needing to weather out the rainy season.

The kids are great too, and they need a man around. Ed is just not cutting it in that department. I haven't gotten around to fixing the minivan for them, but I'll do it soon. Right after me and Chloe get some quality time together. She needs a man around too, because she's been doing it all on her own for too long.

I kiss her neck softly to wake her. She murmurs something and shifts in my arms a little, giving me better access to her breasts. Her nipples rise to hard little nubs of the sweetest candy I've ever tasted, but they're not doing it now, so I help them along by pinching them awake, then sucking and biting them until she's moaning and wriggling in my arms. My cock is fully hard, resting against her clit, her wetness already coating it, getting it ready.

"Yess," she murmurs her eyes still fully closed, and I decide she's awake enough.

Her eyes flutter open as I push my cock into her, her whole body rigid as her tight, soft pussy struggles to accept it.

"Yes?" I ask, barely able to form a coherent word in my animal need to fill her to the hilt, fuck her until she can't speak anymore either.

She nods, gripping my forearm like she's bracing herself. But I'm gonna give it to her slow today, long and deep.

I adjust her position, spread her legs wider and kiss her neck as I push my cock into her until she shudders. Then I pull out all the way, her tightness unwilling to let my cock go, but unable to stop it. She lets out a long moan as I push it back in, her grip on my arm softening.

I like opening her up slowly like this, coaxing her body to accept me, to mold to me. Soon, a single, never-ending moan is escaping her throat, her pussy clenching and pulsing around my throbbing cock as I enter her deeper and deeper.

She's completely soft in my arms now, only her nipples still hard as she surrenders her body to me. I keep fucking her slowly until all of me is buried inside her and she's coming so hard she's shaking in my arms, her pussy gripping my cock so hard I couldn't move it if I tried.

Once her grip on my cock releases, I start fucking her with short, hard thrusts. I clamp my hand over her mouth as soon as her moans start turning to shrieks. She can scream all she wants out in the jungle, but here the kids will hear her.

But as I come, that's a very distant thought, because as far as I'm concerned she can do whatever she wants to, as long as she's doing it with me.

Chloe

I wake up from a ray of sunshine burning my forehead. Rider's cock is still in me, softer, but not soft. When he takes me the way he did this morning, claims my whole pussy with his massive cock, I lose all touch with reality, know only the pleasure he's giving me, the safety of his embrace. And reality is slow to return now.

"Hey, you," he says as I open my eyes and look at him.

I smile, my eyes fluttering shut again. "Hey."

But then I realize it's probably already very late, and I haven't done a single thing around the orphanage.

"What time is it?" I ask, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, shifting in his arms and moaning as his cock slips out of my pussy. He wraps his arm around my waist tightly, so I have no hope of getting up without him releasing me. I don't even try.

"I have no idea," he says. "But I thought we could take a personal day today, maybe go check out that surf you liked."

"You surf?" I ask.

"No, but you do," he says and holds me even tighter. "And I think you should get a day where you do something just for yourself. You don't get a lot of those."

"I do exactly what I want everyday by working here and taking care of the kids," I say prying his arms apart, so I can sit up.

"Yeah, but that's your job," he says. "I was talking about leisure time."

He's smiling, but I'm angry at his insinuation that I'm not enjoying myself here, that I'd rather be doing something else, because I wouldn't. Though maybe I'm just angry, because he mentioned going surfing and that's something I did in my old life. When I was carefree and trusting, sure everything would be alright so long as I let everyone else live the same way. But I learned my lesson the hard way.

"You have to do things just for yourself from time to time, otherwise everything becomes a chore," he adds, since I'm just staring at him and not saying anything. "Worrying about what the rainy season will do to this place has already sucked most of the joy out of you."

"Yeah? How would you know?" I snap. This conversation just went from bad to worse.

I want Rider to fall in love with me like I've fallen in love with him, not see me as a joyless woman who doesn’t know how to have fun.

"I know because you're really a bright ray of sunshine, but it only shows when you let go, when you let yourself be completely free, and you're not doing much of that." He brushes a strand of hair off my face and cups my cheek. And he can probably feel me shaking, because I am, and I don't even know why. "But you're right, I don't know much about you. Because you won't tell me anything about yourself."

"You didn't ask," I finally manage to whisper after a few false starts. The last dregs of my anger and fear that he'll never love me are mixing now with a strange subconscious certainty that he already does, and that he knows me better than anyone ever has.

"I did try, but you always change the subject," he says. "And I don't make a habit of prying into other people's business."

"What do you want to know?" I ask in the same strangled whisper as before. And I still don't know if I'll tell him my whole story. No one here knows it. The whole reason why I moved to another country was so that I could start afresh, that none of my past could come after me. No one knows exactly where I am, and I only call my mother once a month to let her know I'm still alive.

"Why did you pack up your whole life to move to the middle of nowhere in the Brazilian rainforest?" he asks, going in for the kill with his first question, the way he always does. He really has a knack for that.

"I…I…" here I go again with the false starts, because I still don't know, if I want to tell him my story, I don't know if he'll understand, or if he'll just think of me as an even better catch after he learns I'm a pretty famous amateur porn star. I mean, there are websites and fan pages created for me still out there. No one cares that I wanted none of that. And they won't take them down no matter how many notices I send.

"I packed up everything to escape the fact that I'm actually a porn star," I say, going right for the heart of the matter, the way he does, since that's how I used to be too. I was a straight shooter, honest and trusting, told the truth always, spoke my mind whenever, believed in the principle of the golden rule, and to do no harm, always made sure no harm came to those around me.

"You did porn?" he asks, his eyes gleaming with even deeper desire than what is usually there. But it is a question.

"Not voluntarily. An ex and me made a couple of home videos of you know, sex, and then he uploaded them to porn sites in revenge after I broke up with him," I say. "They went viral, kept trending everywhere until just about everyone saw them."

"That happened because you're gorgeous, Chloe," he says and chuckles. And it's not an embarrassed chuckle, or a lewd one, it's just meant to make me feel better, I think.

"I don't think any of that is funny, Michael," I say and this is the first time I'm calling him by his real name. But this is a very personal thing I'm telling him, and I can't say that to a nickname. Especially not a nickname that reminds me of the fact that he's been travelling aimlessly for practically his whole life, and that I'm only getting him for a little while. And especially not when I'm telling him something I haven't told anyone in three years.

"I can see that," he says with a serious face.

"I was in college at the time, getting a degree in humanitarian work, but when the videos started circulating around the campus they asked me to leave. When I wouldn't, and complained that it wasn't my fault, that I had nothing to do with the videos getting online, they just kicked me out. And before that happened I was almost gang raped by a bunch of frat boys, and I couldn't even go to the mall without some guy recognizing me and wanting a selfie with me, preferably a naked one. Friends I thought would stand by me for life started disappearing. My dad, who lives on the East Coast was getting ridiculed at work, my mom lost friends over it, and there was nothing I could do. The sites wouldn't take the videos down, and suing them would cost more money than I will make in my whole lifetime."

"So you just got in your car and left it all behind," he says when I pause to catch my breath, because all that just spilled out. "Makes sense."

I yank up the leather bracelets that cover my left wrist, ripping a couple of them in the process. "First I tried this."

His eyes freeze on the jagged vertical scar on my wrist. Then he takes hold of my arm, traces his thumb over the scar and looks into my eyes so deeply I feel as lightheaded as I did from the blood loss when I cut up my wrist.

"You meant business," he says softly. "What did you use? A hunting knife?"

"A normal kitchen knife," I admit. "But I changed my mind as soon as the blood started flowing and drove myself to the hospital so they could stich me up. I left the country as soon as they released me from the hospital, and I haven’t been back since. I'm not in touch with anyone except my mom."

He's still caressing my wrist like he means to erase the scar for me. But I have many invisible ones too, and I don't think they can ever be erased. And it certainly won't be done by someone who's just using me and this place as a rest stop on his travels.

"I have one of the videos on my phone," I say, snatching my arm from his grasp and getting my phone from the nightstand. "Wanna see?"

He's looking at me like he doesn't think he heard me right.

"This was the most popular video," I say, turning my phone on. My hands are shaking by the time the chime comes on.

Rider snatches the phone from my hands roughly, and tosses it to the foot of the bed.

"The last thing I want to do is watch you get fucked by someone else," he says harshly. "And if I ever meet the guy who put you through that hell, I'll make him regret it. But why the fuck do you keep a reminder of it?"

My mind's reeling from all the hurt and pain telling the story brought up, and I don't understand his angry reaction. I thought he'd laugh again, say, "Yeah, sure, let me see it. And give me a copy, so I can boast that I fucked a porn star after I leave here”. But there's none of that in his face, or in his voice.

"I keep it to remind myself never to do anything stupid again," I mutter.

"Erase it, Chloe," he says a little more softly than before. "Just let yourself forget."

Tears are a hard ball in my throat, burning and painful.

"I don't know how," I manage to say before tears start spilling from my eyes and my throat closes completely.

He pulls me to him and wraps his arms around me tight, strokes my head and my back as I sob into his shoulder.

"You can forget, Chloe," he says. "I'll help you. And I won't let anyone hurt you ever again."

I don't know if I can believe him, or if I even heard him right. Or if what he's promising is even possible. But I want it to be, and I want to believe him.

Chapter 9

Chloe

I was all talked out after telling him my story and crying over it. But the awkward silence after I finally managed to stop sobbing and wiped my tears away, didn't last long before I let him convince me to go surfing.

I've been in the water for awhile now, but the waves aren’t ideal, as I figured they wouldn't be this late in the day. Still, I feel some of the old thrill I used to every time I went out on the water, and I feel lighter than I did this morning, more free than I've felt for the last three years. More like my old self, the carefree, wild girl who trusted the world was a good place. Rider gave that back to me, by listening, not judging, by seeing what I'd buried under layers and layers of denial, regret and shame, and coaxing it back out into the light. I love surfing, but I'd much rather be sitting on the beach in his arms.

I paddle to the shallows, closer to where he's sitting in the sand at the waterline, watching me.

"You wanna give it a try?" I call out.

"I'm not much of a swimmer," he says. "And I'd rather just watch you."

I smile and come all the way out, dump my board in the sand and join him. He's wearing his jeans and no shirt, and I'm all wet, but he'll have to hold me anyway, I'm not giving him a choice. He's not asking for one either, just wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer.

"I can teach you to swim," I say. "And to surf. If you want."

"Well, I do know how to swim, just not very well," he says. "Father O'Reilly took us swimming a couple of times. We even went to Lake Mead once. As for surfing, I fell into the deep end of the pool once, and the shock took all my air, then locked it right out. It was worse than getting punched."

I laugh, can't help it. "You just have to remember to hold your breath when that happens, and wait until you can draw it again."

"That's good advice in general too," he says, moving a strand of my hair, so it's not dripping all over his arm and leg.

"I feel like I've been holding my breath for a very long time," I muse. "But I'm ready to take that breath again."

"Good," he says. "You deserve it."

We share a silence after that, but it's so full of things unspoken it's actually very loud. The sun is starting to set, and we'll have to leave soon if we want to make it to our car without getting lost in the jungle. But I also want this moment to last for a very long time yet.

"Are you going to leave now that the ditches are done?" I ask, surprising myself at having said it, but it's time to find out.

He doesn't reply right away, and this silence is not as pleasant as the one I just broke. It makes my heart beat faster, makes the layers that kept me untouchable for all these years harden again.

"I was thinking of staying," he finally says, sending my heart racing even harder, but in a much different pitch. "I'm gonna be 32 years old in January, and, I don't know, the kids maybe need someone like me around. I mean, I would have needed me when I was their age."

He pauses, my heart beating very erratically as I wait for what comes next, for the mention of me, of us. But it's just not coming, and the silence is growing hard again.

I'm staring straight ahead, at the waves breaking, the purple and orange waters of sunset. I used to think I'd always be alright as long as I had the ocean. But now I'm not so sure anymore, and it's scary.

He shifts and releases me, takes hold of my chin and makes me look at him. His eyes are deep green like the jungle stretching out behind our backs.

"You're here too, of course," he says. "And I don't want to go very far away from you. I think I'm in love with you, Chloe."

"You think?" I say stupidly. What I should be saying is, "I love you too."

"Well, it's hard to tell," he says, grinning at me. "I've never felt this way about anyone. I want to hold you all the time, and fuck you, and help you, and never let anything bad happen to you, and just generally do anything you want to do. All the time."

"Me too," I say, being dumb again. So I clear my throat, stare very deep into his eyes and start over.

"I love you too, Michael," I say. "More than I ever loved anyone, and I want all those things you just said too. And I want to stay with you forever."

"Mickey," he says, smiling at me.

"What?"

"That's what Father O'Reilly used to call me. I don't like Michael, only my mother called me that, and she and I are not friends."

"OK, Mickey," I say and smile. "I can call you Rider too, if you want."

"You know what?" he says, wrapping his arms around me tighter. "You can call me anything you want."

We went out to dinner after we left the beach, so the orphanage is dark and deserted when we return.

He joins me in the shower, and we waste way too much water washing each other by the light of our flashlights. But the rain season is coming, so water will not be a problem. Especially now that he's dug us the ditches, and certainly never again, because he's staying. I still can't quite believe it's true. But he said he loves me, that he's staying. I didn't just imagine that, yet I'm still waiting to wake up from this dream.

We're both content to just let our hands and our fingers do the talking as we lather each other up, not missing a single spot. I love the shadows cast by the valleys and peaks of his abs, and my whole body is tingling, sparkling in anticipation of the night to come. His cock has been hard the whole time, since we undressed and turned on the water, and we're as clean now as we're ever gonna get.

He picks me up and carries me to my—our—bungalow. We're naked, but it's dark, so no one can see us. It's as though we're alone, but it's always like that when we're together. The rest of the world just fades away.

He lays me down on the bed, which I wish was wider, to better fit the both of us. But then there'd be too much space between us, and sometimes, when we're lying in my bed together, it feels like there already is.

He grins at me, as he kneels on the floor at my feet, gliding his hands up my legs as he spreads them apart. His touch is like a million tiny electrical shocks all coming together deep in my chest.

I sigh hoarsely as his lips touch my clit, moan loudly as his tongue goes to work. He keeps his eyes fixed on mine, as I slowly get lost in the bliss his tongue and his lips are waking inside me. He knows what he's doing, keeps me right at the edge of coming, until my need to, my yearning for release from this slow building pleasure, becomes all I know, all I can think about. With his tongue still caressing my clit, he pushes a finger into me, rubs that special spot inside me where all bliss originates. My whole body is crackling with the desire, the need to come, but he's still teasing me, still keeping me at the very edge.

He pulls his finger out, and I whimper in disappointment, right before I gasp, as it finds my other hole. He rubs a slow circle over it, my wetness aiding it's passage.

He's stopped licking my clit, is just rubbing it with his thumb now as his index finger massages my asshole, the new sensation of pleasure mixing with the old, and making me see double.

"You'll give me this hole too, right?" he asks hoarsely like it's not really a question.

I nod, and he chuckles at the naughty grin I'm giving him. I'll give him all my holes, they're all his. I'm all his.

I bite down on my lower lip as he pushes his finger into my ass, just the tip, but it feels like a lot more and reminds me of the fact that he has a lot more to give.

"You're so big though," I whisper amid a moan as he pushes his finger even deeper into me.

"Yeah," he says and grins, like I'm the first girl who's ever told him he has a big cock. "But we'll go slow, and you can take it."

I'm not so sure, but I'll try, and it's a decision that becomes even firmer as he starts kissing and licking my clit again, working his finger in and out of my asshole. I've done anal before, and it's in most of those videos my ex posted online, but he wasn't nearly as big as Rider is. But he's also never made me come as hard as Rider does. Not even close. And he's doing it again now, my vision completely blurry as the orgasm I've been craving finally washes over me with all the force of a tsunami, and just as breath-taking. He pushes his thumb deep into my pussy, and lets me ride the orgasm out, before removing his fingers.

When I regain my ability to breathe he's on the bed, kneeling between my spread legs, his cock pressing against my ass. He lifts my legs up and spreads them wider.

"Ready?" he asks with a very determined look in his eyes.

"I don't know," I answer truthfully.

"Well, I don't need a lot, and this ain't your first rodeo when it comes to anal, Chloe," he says, rubbing the head of his slick cock over my hole. "But if you don't want to, I won't force you."

"I want to," I whisper, still not completely sure until the words are out of my mouth. "But go slow."

He grins then spits in his hand, rubbing it on his cock. I don't know if a bit of spit will be enough, but I have no time to tell him that as he starts pushing his cock in. I gasp as my whole body wishes to tense against the intruder, but I won't let it.

He slows for a moment then pushes in deeper, retreats and repeats. It hurts, but the pleasure is greater, the pain bearable. After a few more of his shallow jabs, my body opens to accommodate him, because I was made for him, and he for me, and there can be no other way. He keeps pushing his cock in and out of me slowly, not going too deep at all.

The pain is gone now, fleeing from the blissful warmth suffusing me, as I start to feel his cock everywhere, my entire body one big, rippling zone of pleasure that keeps expanding and growing, until it's all there is. He keeps going, his thrust weaving the blanket of pleasure tighter and thicker, even my need to breathe secondary to accepting all this pleasure he's giving me.

The orgasm that washes over me now has no end and no beginning, bathes everything in a timelessness that even my moans and shrieks can no longer rent.

Chapter 10

Rider

Telling me her story chased away most of the clouds shading the ray of sunshine Chloe actually is. Hearing me say I loved her, in what must've been the most un-romantic way any man's ever said that to a woman, cleared the rest. I've never said that to a woman, never even came close to feeling what I feel for her. And as hurtful as her past is for her, the fact that she's desired by many just makes me want her more. Not that anyone else will ever have her. She's mine, and I mean to tell her that, and show her, for as long and as often, as she'll let me.

Right now, I'll do it by fixing her station wagon, so we can take it for a drive down the coast. I love my bike, but her surfboard won't fit on it, and I'm not married to it. As long as I'm moving, I'm happy, the actual means of transportation is of secondary importance. Not that I mean us to go far. She belongs here, and I won't try and take that away from her. I'll find my place here too. And maybe she'd even let me go for a ride, if I needed to. She's a free spirit like that, she understands the need to just go. Though right now I can't imagine going anywhere without her.

Both her station wagon and the minivan are older models, which is good, because there's virtually no fixing new cars without a computer, and I never mastered that. Nor wanted to.

Her car won't start, doesn't even make a noise, though that could just mean the battery's dead. But the breaks feel like they're pumping into nothing too. Might as well start by jumping the battery, see what part of the problem that solves.

But when I pop the hood it becomes very apparent that a dead battery is the least of the problems and starting it up won't solve a thing. Everything under the hood looks like someone went berserk on the poor thing. Wires and cables are ripped out everywhere, rusting in places from the spilt brake fluid that leaked out through the jagged holes in the container. The oil's also leaked out, and it's dried to a black, cracking mess. For a split second, I think Chloe did this to stop herself leaving, to anchor herself in this place forever. But this is the work of a deranged lunatic, and she's no psycho. She's the most honest, down-to-earth, and wholesome person I've ever known. Besides, I've been with some batshit crazy women in my day, and I know the signs of a psycho bitch well.

I check under the hood of the minivan, and the mess is even more extensive there. This might very well be beyond me to fix. Hell, I'm afraid it's beyond most fully equipped garages to fix. I'm pretty sure everything under the hood needs replacing.

Eduardo is heading for the showers, and I call him over. He comes, since I'm yelling so loudly he can't just ignore me, but he's got that disgusted look on his face he always gets lately when he's forced to talk to me. Which he does very rarely. He liked Chloe, and now I've taken her away from him and he hates me. I understand that very well too, but it's just tough shit for him, because she chose me, and I'm never letting her go.

"What the hell happened to the cars?" I ask once he's within earshot, smiling over his shoulder at Chloe who's also coming over, bringing me lunch it looks like.

The disgusted look on Ed's face is replaced by confusion.

"They are broken," he says.

I can't help, but laugh derisively. "You didn't check under the hood when they wouldn't start?"

Ed's good with the kids, but he's a total fucking failure at everything else a guy is supposed to be doing to keep a place like this running.

He hears Chloe coming and turns to look at her, and the expression on his face is so dark as their eyes meet, it takes real effort not to give him shit over it.

"You haven't told him yet, have you?" he asks her, and I like the contempt in his voice even less than that black look.

I'm almost out of reasons not to give him a hard lesson in how Chloe is supposed to be treated.

Chloe's face turns milky pale, and she looks very upset. Ed being an ass to her can't be the whole reason for that.

"Haven't told me what?" I ask her.

Her eyes meet mine, and she looks scared. That's the only way I can read her expression. But she's in no danger, so it makes no damn sense.

"Someone fucking tell me what this is all about?" I ask harshly, since they’re both staying silent.

"The cartel that runs this part of the country wants us off this property. While old man Gustavo was still alive, he could keep them at bay, but since his death, they've been giving us all sorts of problems. The people in the village won't do business with us anymore, or help us with repairs, which is why Chloe had to bring you here. They also messed up the cars, and it's probably only a matter of time before they come back for the jeep. Frankly, I'm surprised they haven't just come slit all our throats in the night, but I guess even hardened criminals like them can't stomach killing children. But for how long? They want this land, and if we don't go willingly they'll make us. That's why all the other volunteers already left. I'm halfway gone myself."

"Is this true, Chloe?" I ask.

She looks at me, her eyes still wide and afraid, but not completely. That pigheaded stubbornness of hers is in there too now.

"Yes, it's true," she says. "But they can't just run us off. This is our land now. Dom Gustavo left everything to the orphanage. It was his dying wish that we stay here. And I'm going to honor that."

"You're fucking kidding me, Chloe," I say, running my hand through my hair and pulling on it to stop myself from saying the wrong thing, like calling her stupid. She's not, but this game she's playing is very dumb.

"What do you mean?" she asks defiantly.

I just shake my head and walk away, since anything that comes out of my mouth right now won't be very nice. We're also about to have our first argument, and I'm not doing that in front of Eduardo.

She lets me walk away, and I hear their angry whispers, but can't understand what they're saying. She's probably pissed at Ed for telling me, but he's my best fucking friend for doing so.

I hear her jogging to catch up to me, and she calls my name, asks me to stop a couple of times, but I just keep going, right past the last row of bungalows and up the ravine towards the big house. I'm still not sure how to tell her that what she's doing is the most stupid thing in the fucking history of the world.

"Stop! Please talk to me, Mickey!" she shrieks suddenly, and I do it. I never want to walk away from her anyway, and this needs saying.

"Why are you acting like this?" she asks breathlessly once she reaches me at the top of the ravine.

"Because I don't know how to tell you that your plan is the dumbest and most dangerous thing I've ever heard. And I've heard some dumb plans in my time, believe me."

"This is our land, they can't just force us out," she says. "Dom Gustavo gave it to us."

"He's got nothing to worry about, he's dead," I spit out. "And that's exactly what you'll be soon, if you keep this shit up."

"Oh, come on," she says sarcastically. "You don't buy Ed's bullshit that they'll just kill us if we don't leave."

"It's not bullshit, Chloe, it's fact." I say even though she clearly had more to say. "This isn't some crooked land developer or banker you're dealing with, it's the cartel. A South American cartel. Jesus, Chloe, you can't seriously think they won't do whatever it takes to get you off this land. They will kill children. I'm surprised they haven’t already killed you all before I even got here."

"They haven't because they're not gonna," she says defiantly, but her eyes are growing scared again. I really fucking don't want her to be scared of anything ever again, but she should be of this.

"They're probably just dealing with something more important," I tell her in a softer voice then take her hand and pull her into my arms. She goes willingly like we weren't practically shouting at each other a second ago.

"What we need to do is pack up and go somewhere else," I say, holding her so I can look into her eyes in an effort to better convey just how serious I am without needing to raise my voice.

"We have no cars and no money to buy them. And there's nowhere for us to go," she says.

"There's a whole country of places to go," I tell her and smile. "And I'll build enough houses for everyone somewhere safe. But this place ain't it."

Her eyes soften, the fear gone as she wraps her arms around my waist tighter. "I know you mean well, but you're wrong. We are safe here. Gustavo was here before the cartel, and he had an understanding with them. They won't attack us. I mean to give them the house and most of the land if they let us keep the bungalows. I just need to find someone to make this proposal to. And I will have more time to devote to that problem now the ditches are done, and we're safe from flooding."

The rain that's been threatening all day comes down all at once, like the flood gates of heaven just opened up over our heads. We're soaked in moments, but we're not moving, not speaking. And I'm sure she thinks it's because I'm considering her proposal, probably hoping I'll tell her it's a great idea. But that's not it.

What I'm actually seeing is my mother waving to me one last time before she boarded the bus and abandoned me on the side of the road. I'm watching Father O'Reilly drink himself to an early grave, taking with him another home of mine. I'm seeing Blade's dead body, getting the hurried midday call to get the fuck out of Arbor because the cops are coming for all Viper's Bite MC members, and I've done more shit for the brotherhood than most, so I'm high on the list of future convicts. I'm watching a replay of every damn thing that ever went wrong in my life, live and in vivid color. And I won't let Chloe be one of those things too.

I release her and grab her hand, start pulling her after me back down the ravine.

"What's happening, Rider?" she asks. "Where are we going?"

"We're getting the fuck away from here," I shout over the hissing of the rain.

She stops and yanks her hand from my grasp. It slips out easily, because we're both so wet.

"I'm not going anywhere!" she yells. "I'm staying right here! And if you won't stay with me—"

"What are you doing?" I ask, interrupting her because I know the end of that sentence, and I don't want her to tell me to get lost. Ever. Can't hear those words from her. Because I love her more than I remember loving my mother, or Father O'Reilly. "Is this just some long, drawn out suicide attempt, Chloe? Because you failed the first time? You don't owe anyone your life. It's yours. You didn't do anything wrong."

"I owe it to these kids to take care of them. I promised them I would, and I'm going to," she says, anger flashing from her eyes. "And who are you to question me, or make jokes about the darkest moment of my life? You don't know me, not really, not yet, anyway. But clearly you had no intention of sticking around unless things were just peachy and we could spend our days fucking and not worrying about a damn thing. I should've known. I can't believe I believed you, or trusted you."

Those are some heavy words, but I provoked them by mentioning her suicide attempt and that part's on me. But I have no intention of standing here arguing with her, because with women and the way they do it, that could take days.

"Calm the fuck down and listen to some sense, Chloe," I say regretting it the second her eyes flash an even deeper angry gold, but there's no taking it back. "No small fish ever fucks with the cartel, or enters into deals with them. They get killed if they try. I can't protect you here, all I can do is die with you. But I don't want to do that, and I don't want to lose you. Please just believe me, Chloe. I've dealt with cartel assholes before, I know what I'm talking about."

"I'm staying, Rider," she says and walks past me, slipping and almost falling into the mud. "And if you don't want to stay here with me, then you can just leave. I don't need you. I'll be fine without you."

She went and fucking said it. Told me to get lost because I'm not needed, not wanted. And I'll be god damned if I'll ever stick around for anyone who's just fine without me. Or risk my life for someone like that. I loved my mother too, and that shit faded to nothing. Hell, I even mostly forgot about Father O'Reilly until being here brought all those memories back. I'll forget Chloe and my love for her too. Fast, most likely, since she's right, we don't know each other very well at all.

I wait in the rain until she disappears into her bungalow, then go down to get my stuff from mine. Most of my shit is in her bungalow, but it's all replaceable and I won't dignify this departure with a goodbye. She'll be just fine without me. And in a couple of days, it'll be like we never met. Just me and the open road. The only thing I could ever trust not to let me down.

Chapter 11

Rider

The rain stopped by the time I reached the top of the first hill on my way from the orphanage to where ever. So I just kept going, rode until the afternoon gave way to dusk and night gave way to morning again. Thought of nothing, felt nothing, was aware of nothing, but my headlight fighting the darkness. My tires and the pavement, the wind whizzing by, were making a symphony, which is different on every road I ride, yet always the same at it's core, and the only certainty in my life. The only safe haven.

I took the long way here, but now I'm on a hill overlooking the main harbor in Rio de Janeiro. Jesus Christ, Our Savior is spreading his arms wide over the city below me. He never saved me from shit, maybe because I didn't give my life to him the way I promised I would. I completely forgot about that until right now, but for years I wanted to be a priest just like Father O'Reilly. I'd probably make a bad one, as it turned out. But Jesus has given me the open road, the freedom and peace it brings me. And I'll never try to toss that gift away again like I almost did for Chloe.

When I left the States, I planned to ride all the way south until the road ended. Then I'd get myself aboard one of those huge cross-oceanic cargo ships, roll my bike into a container, and continue my journey wherever the ship dropped me off. Europe or Asia, it doesn't matter. This world is full of roads, and they're all mine to ride.

I'm not meant to have a home. The empty road is my only home. I will never again try to change that. This time I learned my lesson well. I've thought about that all the way here, yet I don’t want to begin my descent to the harbor.

It's not time to leave this road yet, a small voice is telling me inside my mind, has been since I left the orphanage and Chloe behind. But that's just the last echoes of my love for Chloe as it fades.

But they're loud enough to stop me from going down to the harbor. I passed a run-down roadside shack of a bar a few miles back. A couple of Harleys were parked out front, and I almost stopped right then and there, to have a drink with my brothers from another country. As much as MCs fight each other, there is a sense of brotherhood and loyalty that stretches beyond mere allegiance to our clubs. We all share the love of the open road, and it makes us all brothers. I learned that often on my rides, have no reason to believe the two bikers in that bar will refuse if I offer to buy them a beer. My MC brothers are all very far away right now, but I need a brother in spirit to talk to and reconnect with that unity we share, which is larger than my own petty existence here on this earth.

The two bikes are still parked in front of the bar, but they're joined by a black Merc with tinted windows. The bar is eerily quiet, with no one behind the counter and only one of the tables showing signs of recent occupation in the form of a nearly empty glass of scotch and a spilt bottle of beer that's still frothing as it drips down to the floor.

I smell blood and gunpowder, and that gut feeling I've honed over years of doing the wrong thing in dangerous places is telling me to get the fuck out of this place. Raised voices are coming from the back, and it doesn't sound like the conversation’s gonna end well for everyone involved. Just as it didn't for the wearer of that black biker boot, who is now lying behind the bar. A narrow trickle of dark red blood is snaking past his boot and towards the middle of the bar.

There's a code in the biker world. We help each other if we’re able, and if we're not at war. If I run away now, I'll forever have to live with being too much of a coward to honor that code. And I have little else but that code to live for anyway.

Chloe

I calmed down soon after I realized Rider wasn't right behind me, wasn't following me to my bungalow where we could finish our argument with a roof over our heads. And a bed near.

But when I went searching for him he was gone. His bike was gone, the stuff of his that he didn't leave in my bungalow were gone. He just left. The shock of that took my breath harder than getting plunged into deep icy water. Hours passed before it finally turned into anger. I stayed up all night waiting for him to return, couldn't sleep even when I tried, my anger wouldn't let me.

One disagreement and he's gone?

He just disappeared like I mean nothing to him. Like the things we shared, the words of love we exchanged didn't mean a thing.

They meant everything to me. But clearly not very much to him.

And it happened, because I wouldn't do as he wanted. Because I just want to protect the children from ending up in some state run orphanage where they might kill them even faster than the cartel would.

The cartel isn't killing anyone. They'd have done it by now, if that was their intention. He said as much himself.

All day, I held on to my anger at Rider as hard as I could, because it's easier than feeling that overwhelming anguish of despair that's skirting the edge of it. The kind of despair that makes all food taste like cardboard and chases away every last breath of hope. The kind of despair that made me pick up that knife to open my wrists, because I could see no other way out.

I'll never go down that road again, but I so wanted to travel the road Rider was starting to show me. The path to love and friendship, kindness and sharing the burdens of this world, to days of happiness that lead to nights of bliss and unburdened passion, all wrapped up in a life of belonging.

But maybe I just strayed so far from even hoping for something like that, it exploded in my mind with the first breath of its possibility.

Clearly it was all just an illusion, the figment of my brain in love. An over-exaggeration of what's actually happening, as so often happens to me when I fall for someone, but never leads to anything good.

Ed and Olivia didn't ask any questions, beyond that first one, wondering where Rider is.

"He left," I told them. "And I don't want to talk about it."

They handled it when the children started asking after him. They're my true family, my true friends, the only ones who stand with me against the cartel, against the sad fate these children will face once again, if no one stands up for them.

I thought Rider would understand that, since he's an abandoned child himself. He's such a strong guy. I thought he understood that sometimes the strong must put even their lives on the line to save the weak.

But I've clearly been just as wrong about him, as I was about my ex and all the guys that came before him.

It's better I stay alone. I knew that before he so expertly found a way into my heart, but I know it beyond a shadow of a doubt now.

It started raining again in the evening of the day after he left. This time it doesn't stop like it did on the day he left.

I only have to open the door of my bungalow to see that the ditches aren't holding the downpour back, because a wide river of black water is rushing down the ravine right past the two back stilts of the schoolhouse.

I rush out to see why the ditch isn't diverting the water as it should. It worked fine last night, but now the rushing water has completely obliterated one of its banks. I run to get the shovel and start digging. The mud is heavy and sticky, and I'm panting before long, hair and water stinging my eyes, or maybe that's the tears I won't shed for Rider.

Every sinew in my arms and back is burning before long, and all the digging I'm doing isn't making any visible difference. But I'll keep going, keep trying, because that is all I have. Saving this orphanage is the only purpose in my life.

The water is up to my ankles already, and I swear I can hear wood creaking, because the schoolhouse is about to collapse.

I start digging even faster, because the pain in my arms is now the only thing keeping away the overwhelming wish to have Rider by my side. I'll lose my mind, if I surrender to that desire. It's the only thing I know with absolute certainty. And it's not jus because I need him to help me save the orphanage. I want him, because I don't want to face a future without him. All else is alright as long as we're together, as long as he loves me, no challenge, no problem too big to solve.

He was worried about me, because he loves me. That's why he wanted us all to leave. And I went and told him I don't need him, that I’ll be fine without him. It's not true. I wanted to stay with him forever. Now he's gone, and I don't have any way to reach him, because he never even told me his last name or his phone number.

Chapter 12

Rider

The bar door opens behind me, and I duck behind the bar, crouching next to the dead man without thinking twice.

The man yells something in Brazilian, and I assume he wants me to come back out from behind the bar, which is not happening. The arguing voices outside are growing fainter.

The dead man is clutching a Glock, which he didn't have time to fully draw before he was gunned down by two shots to the chest.

I grab the gun, lift it and aim at the man as he rounds the corner of the bar. He's wearing a suit and tie, so he's not a biker, but the enemy, and he's got a gun aimed at me too. That's all the thinking I do before squeezing the trigger and putting a bullet right between his eyes.

I was seventeen the first time I held a gun, but I took to it like a fish to water. The day I fired off twelve rounds without missing my mark once was the day I finally completely let go of my promise to become a priest. By then, I liked doing the wrong thing too much.

I peer carefully through the door at the back of the bar. In the distance, two more suit-wearing guys are dragging a biker into the dense jungle just beyond the narrow strip of gravel behind the bar.

I run out into the blinding sunshine, but veer left as I head into the trees, with no clear plan in mind except doing what I can to prevent the biker they've overpowered from meeting the same fate as the one lying dead behind the bar.

Luckily they're talking a lot and loudly, as all Latinos always do, no matter what kind of situation they're in, so I have no trouble following them while staying out of sight.

The biker is on his knees under a palm tree when I finally reach them, one of the suited men holding a gun to the back of his head, while the other one stands in front of him still talking a mile a minute.

It's not usually the case, but right now I'm glad for the Latinos' inability to say whatever they have to say in a timely fashion. It gives me all the time I need to aim carefully and dispatch the one with the gun. The talking one goes down next, his mouth still open to say whatever he was gonna say before life left him.

The biker jumps to his feet, looking around wildly, searching for me. I emerge from behind the palm tree, my gun still half raised, because I'm a stranger to this guy who still has the fear of death etched into the features of his face.

He says something in Brazilian holding his hands up in the gesture of surrender.

I lower my gun. "I don't understand what you're saying, but you're welcome."

"Thank you," he says in heavily accented English. "I am Maluco, presidente of Dois Cobras."

He turns and shows me the logo on the back of his cut, the two snakes reminding me of the ones adorning the back of my own cut before I ripped that shit off when I crossed into Mexico. I left the cut in Chloe's room, after wearing it while I fucked her a few times like she wanted.

The man walks over, gives me a friendly tap on the arm. "Come on, I will buy you a drink and thank you as is fitting for the service you provided."

I shake my head, because the clarity and peace that eluded me all through my long ride last night are finally here. And they've never been stronger.

I just risked my life to save a stranger, yet I left Chloe, the woman I love, to face a fate that may be worse than death on her own. I have to go back to her as fast as I can and stay by her side through anything, forever. Because she is all I need, the only person who's ever given me true peace, true purpose, a true belonging that goes beyond any home I've ever lost. If dying by her side, or dying to save her, is what's required, I won't think twice. And it will take dying for me to ever leave her again.

"I have to go," I say. "We'll get a drink some other time."

I stride away back towards the bar, hear him do the same behind me.

"Wait," he calls out once we reach the open ground in front of the bar. "What is your name?"

"Rider," I say without breaking step.

"Wait," he says again. "Take my phone number and call me, if you ever need anything. I must repay the favor you have given me."

Even though every cell in my body is laser focused on getting back to Chloe as soon as physically possible, I do realize that having the phone number of a president of a local MC to call if things get bad is a good thing to have. So I follow him into the bar, where he first laments the loss of his brother for a good while in Brazilian before finally scribbling his number on a napkin.

He starts talking again before handing it to me, thanking me profusely some more, and again promising to come right away if I ever need him. I raise my hand to silence him, after learning yet again that Latinos will over talk even in languages they have only a basic grasp of.

"There is a woman who needs me," I say. "And I've kept her waiting for me long enough."

He nods knowingly and finally hands me the napkin.

I offer to help him move the dead guy, but he tells me his men are on their way.

It starts raining a few miles into my ride, and doesn't stop, only gets worse. My bike might not survive this downpour. But it just needs to survive long enough to get me to Chloe. Then it might as well never start again, as far as I'm concerned. A bike can be replaced, Chloe can never be.

Chloe

It's been raining for hours, so hard the skin on my fingers is puckered painfully. But I'll dig until my arms fall off. Ed and Olivia are digging further up, where the ditch has also now collapsed under the rush of the water. There's a lake where the open ground in the middle of our orphanage was and the water just keeps streaming down, harder and harder, filling it. The water where I'm digging is already halfway up to my knees.

The kids are safe for now. We moved them to the garage, which is the only building in the entire camp that's on an incline, so the water hasn't reached it yet.

But it will. At the rate it's coming down, it will cover the entire camp soon, probably wash it away by morning. I told them to run up the hill if the garage starts flooding.

I freeze in my digging, thinking I heard the roar of a Harley over the hissing of the rain and the rushing water. But there's no way. It's just my crazed mind playing its last trick on me, before I'm finally forced to admit defeat. I'm so close to doing that, I can already taste its bitter aftertaste. I remember the taste of defeat well from the first week or so after I left home for good, finally realizing that my world was ruined beyond repair, that the only thing left for me was to get lost somewhere where no one knows me.

But then I found my calling here, helping these poor kids lead a good life. And it will be hard to let go of that, to leave it behind, to admit that I failed at it.

I think I hear the kids talking now, jabbering excitedly, but that's just in my mind. I'm just imagining them begging me to stay when I tell them all is lost.

I start digging hard again, even though my arms are shaking because I'm so tired. But I won't stop. I'll never stop trying.

"Need some help?" Rider’s voice says.

Yes, I do, I answer him silently, because I know it's just in my head.

Only he's standing right in front of me, water dripping off the locks of his hair, his eyes glowing in the near darkness. He looks as real and alive as anyone I've ever seen. More so.

But it still takes me a few moments to realize he really is standing in front of me.

I drop my shovel and lunge at him, wrapping my arms around his neck with the last strength I have left. Holding him is better than speaking, because I will say the wrong thing if I try. He lifts me up, and I wrap my legs around him too for good measure. His lips find mine, and I taste the tangy rain, but underneath it I can also taste everything I ever wanted from this world. All the peace and love and good things I wished for everyone and for myself, but was denied until this very moment. I'm not tired anymore, in fact, I feel as light as I ever did when riding the waves, letting the water carry me where it will. I never fought the waves, and I will never again fight my love for Rider. I'll let it carry me where it will.

"You came back," I whisper when we finally stop kissing and he's just holding me.

"I should never have left," he says. "Do you forgive me?"

"Yes," I say and hug him even tighter. "I'm sorry I said I don't need you. I do. I need you more than breathing."

There's a void inside me, which only he can fill. And it's been growing deeper and wider since he left. But I'm only now daring to acknowledge its existence. Because he's here to fill it again, and it's already growing smaller.

He looks deep into my eyes. "I'll never leave you again, Chloe. I can't, because I love you too much. Someone'll have to carry my dead body away from you for it to happen."

There he goes with his straight shooting again, and hearing him talk of his death, picturing it because he described it so vividly, hurts like a bullet has actually pierced my heart. But he's here, alive and breathing, holding me in his strong arms.

"I love you, Rider, and I'll never let that happen. We'll go away from here, like you said, find somewhere safe to live."

He grins at me and sets me down. "No need, I have a plan. But first, what the hell happened to my ditches?"

"They didn't hold," I say sheepishly.

"It's only been raining for what, six hours?" he says. "No way all this water is just from that."

He grabs the flashlight that I've been using for light and charges up the ravine. I'm huffing by the time I finally catch up to him halfway up.

Ed and Olivia are staring at him, just as frozen as I must have been when he first appeared by my side.

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To see where all this water is coming from," he says, shining the flashlight up the incline, following the path of the raging, bubbling stream coming down the incline.

I follow him. Ed and Olivia drop their shovels and join us. The path of the rushing water leads us past Dom Gustavo's house, right to the edge of the estate, where a second stream usually runs along the fence. Only there is no more fence because the stream is pretty much a river now, rushing down towards the bungalows.

Rider stops, shining the light at it, but looking at the three of us. "Why didn't you tell me this swelled up so bad?"

"Because it never has before," I say. "At least not since I've been here."

"And Gustavo never mentioned it either," Ed adds.

Rider starts walking again, following the stream, which is a river now, further up. Eventually we come to the actual river.

When I reach him, his flashlight is illuminating a mound of light grey rocks that block the water, sending it all flowing into the stream that is now destroying our home.

"The cartel assholes diverted the river," Olivia is the first to point out. "They're trying to flood us out."

"Nothing for it, we have to move these rocks," Rider says and gets to work, groaning and cursing, but managing to move a rock, which is so large I would've sworn no man can even nudge it by himself. Ed, Olivia and me join forces on another one half as big, and succeed. But there's at least fifty more to move.

Dawn is breaking when we finally manage to clear the makeshift dam, and the river is finally flowing the way it was meant to, and no longer feeding the stream. I'm so exhausted, I'm seeing double. But that's OK, because now I have two Riders instead of one. And they both have to carry me back down to my bed, because I have no strength left.

Chapter 13

Chloe

The sky outside is grey when I wake up, the rain still coming down hard, tapping the roof and hissing outside the window.

The door opens, while I'm still trying to figure out if it's morning or evening. Rider walks in carrying a covered tin can in one hand, and plates and spoons in the other. He's wearing a pair of jeans and nothing else, droplets of water sliding down his torso, driving all other thoughts from my mind, save for the happiness that he's back, that he's mine.

"Did you bring me breakfast in bed?" I ask and grin at him as he struggles to close the door behind him with his leg.

"You could say that. Though this is actually dinner," he says, smiling widely.

"A girl could get used to that," I say coyly.

"Yeah, it's probably best that you don't," he says. "I'm not much for romance. If you weren't awake yet, I'd happily eat all this food by myself."

"I figured that too," I say and get up to clear the little table by the window so he can set the food down.

I'm naked, and I feel his gaze all along my back and ass like a warm summer breeze.

When I turn he's still standing by the door, his eyes swallowing me up, heating me like I'm standing next to an open fire.

"I suppose you're responsible for me not wearing any clothes," I say.

My voice breaks his trance, and he walks over and puts the food on the table.

"You were dead to the world," he says. "And you were soaked right through. I had no choice, but to undress you. I kinda wished you'd wake up, but you didn't."

"So you didn't take advantage of me while I was incapacitated?" I ask and take the tin can to open it.

I very nearly drop it, as he picks me up and sits down on one of the rickety chairs with me on his lap. I do manage to set it down, before his kiss takes the last of my control over my body from me. His kiss is better than riding the waves, better than floating on the water with nothing but the horizon stretching before me, better than lazy summer afternoons, better than smelling the ocean, the flowers of spring, better than being free.

"I wish you had woken me last night," I murmur.

"Me too," he agrees.

He wraps his arm around my waist to hold me steady in his lap. I arrange the plates then hold the can of food, so he can open it and pour the stew onto our plates. Once I start eating, all else flees my mind. I don't remember being this hungry in a long time, or enjoying my food quite this much. I can't find a thing to say except, "This is good".

"I made it," Rider says. "Someone had to. Ed and Olivia are up and about, but they're not much for doing anything other than resting. How do you feel?"

I'm very aware of my nakedness, of his mostly hard cock jabbing me in the butt cheek, of the fact that I want him naked too, and of all the things we could do together then. But in all seriousness…

"Muscles I didn't know I had are hurting," I tell him in between bites of the very good stew he made.

"Figured you'd say that," he says squeezing my thigh. "Pity."

"Give me a little time to digest this food, and then ask me again," I say and grin at him over my shoulder.

His lips are so close and look so tasty I can't resist. He tastes better than any food I've ever had, and his kisses are way more nourishing.

Soon, we're in bed, entwined together so intricately I can no longer distinguish between us clearly. He's naked now too, but we're still just kissing, because I think he's tired too, he must be, since he practically moved that whole pile of rocks by himself last night. And kept this place going all day today while me, Ed and Olivia rested.

"I guess we should start planning our departure from here tomorrow," I say once we're just lying there in each other's arms and staring into each other's eyes. His are the exact shade of green as the sea sometimes is right before a storm, when the last of the sunshine finds its way through the clouds.

"What do you mean?" he asks hoarsely. I think he's ready to fall asleep.

"You were right," I say. "It's too dangerous to try and go against the cartel. We should pack up and find another place to make our camp."

"I was right about the cartel," he says, brushing the hair off my forehead. "But I was wrong for leaving you, and not being willing to make a stand against them by your side. Although maybe that turned out for the best."

It's my turn to give him a confused look.

"I'll make a call tomorrow," he says. "And hopefully that will lead to a productive discussion with the cartel about letting us keep this place."

The way he says "productive" makes me think of violence for some reason.

"Who are you gonna call?" I ask, figuring he means his biker friends, but they're all very far away, so that makes no sense.

"I'll tell you when it's arranged," he says in a tone that suggests he's done talking. "If it fails, we'll leave. But if we stay, we should move the kids up to the big house. I'm sure there's enough room for twice as many in there."

Hearing him make these plans for us, for the kids, makes me love him more, in a way I've never loved another. With him by my side, I could do all those things I wanted to do—help these kids, make a difference—-so much better, so much easier. I just hope I give him back a fraction of what he's already given me.

"It'll take us months to clear out the house. Dom Gustavo was a great man, but he was also a life-long packrat. I don't think there's more than a single sofa to lay down on in that whole house. The rest of it is just packed with stuff."

"That's good," he says. "We'll need stuff to sell to keep this place going."

"If we can find anyone to sell all that junk to," I muse.

"People love junk. And I bet the old guy had some valuable shit up there," he says, caressing my back and yawning loudly. "But let's continue this conversation in the morning. I need some sleep now."

I stop talking even though my mind is exploding with all the plans his suggestion fired off. But before long, the rhythmic tapping of the rain on the roof, his even breaths, and the safety and belonging I feel in his arms gives me peace too.

Chapter 14

Rider

I rode into the village to make the call while Chloe was giving the kids lessons in the morning.

Maluco promised me the backing of Dois Cobras in protecting the orphanage, but the conversation still left a queasy feeling in my stomach. He told me more about the cartel that wants this land and it's a powerful one. So powerful I can't believe they didn't kill everyone here right after the old man died. Or even before then.

I'm lucky that Dois Cobras hate them very much, and that it was this same cartel I saved Maluco from. An all out war's been brewing between them for awhile, and the attempt on his life has now well and truly started it.

Maluco is already rallying his men. They will ride as soon as they have the numbers. He said they should be ready in a day or two, and promised to take the orphanage under his protection after he wins.

If he wins. He didn't add that, but it's all I kept thinking once he revealed the whole scope of his plan.

And even if he does win, I've been in wars between rival gangs and they ain't pretty. Not something you want to involve a whole bunch of children in and hope for the best. Or women, for that matter. Before I met Chloe, met the kids here, and decided to stay, I would've been more than willing to ride into this fight alongside Dois Cobras MC. A little hot-headed violence and bloodshed once in a while was always just what the doctor ordered for me.

But that was back when I was alone, with just my own life to risk. Now my life is worth more, and we're almost right smack in the middle of a full-on war. I don't run from fights, but maybe that's still our best option.

"Did you make the call?" Chloe asks as she meets me halfway between the garage and our bungalow.

"Yes, I did," I say, not sure how to continue. A huge part of me wants to tell her we should run, but I'm afraid what happened the first time I said that will happen again. Sure, she said she'd leave like I suggested, but that was before I got her hopes up.

I pull her into my arms and kiss her, feel my blood that's been frozen, since I heard Dois Cobras' plan, whoosh hot and fast through my veins, washing away all my pussy ass doubts and fears. I will protect Chloe, anywhere, anytime and from anything. And I will protect everything she holds dear too. She's my woman, and there can be no other way.

An almighty crash, like cars exploding wakes me what feels like seconds after I drifted off to sleep holding Chloe. It's followed by the creaking of wood, and another crash, which is not as loud as the first. There’s also a general hissing that I don't think is from the rain.

"The children!" Chloe shrieks, and lunges for the door, but I hold her back.

"I'll go see what's happening," I tell her and walk to the door.

I open it a crack, staying to the side as I check. The schoolhouse has collapsed on its side, and a bright orange fire is engulfing it.

"It's happened," Chloe says beside me, peering outside too. "The flood's eroded too much of the soil."

She reaches for the door to open it all the way, but I yank her back before she can do it, more roughly than I intended.

"That fire isn't just from the collapsed building," I tell her, since I can smell gasoline.

"The cartel?" she whispers, her eyes open wide in panic. "We have to protect the kids."

I stand between her and the door, so she can't open it, but I'm panicking too, because this might be the night we die.

"We will," I assure her. "But we need to know what we're dealing with first."

I can hear the children talking faintly, and I hope whoever is staying with them tonight won't let them run out into the open.

"I'll go see what's going on," I tell Chloe as I reach into my bag for the gun I used to kill those three guys. The rest of the bullets are still in it, but I'm afraid they won't be enough to save us. But I'll do what I can, and I won't worry until there's real cause to.

Chloe’s eyes are very wide, focused on the gun I'm holding.

"Please be careful," she whispers.

"I'll do my best," I say, since there's no point lying to her. "Stay in here and stay down. Don't come out until I call you."

"What if you get hurt?" she asks in a strangled voice.

We all might get hurt. Killed. But I don't tell her that since there's no need to add to her panic.

"I can take care of myself," I say. "But I can't worry about what you're doing too. Stay here until I come get you. Promise me."

She nods. I hope I can trust her, but there's no more time to make sure.

I crouch beside the door and open it all the way.

The fire has swallowed almost the entire collapsed building now. The wood was soaked through from the rain, which is still coming down pretty hard, so I must've been right about the gasoline because without it, this fire would be out by now.

A lamp is lit in one of the windows of the hut where the boys sleep. A stupid thing, because now whoever set the fire knows exactly which building to target next. The open ground between here and that building is completely deserted. I step over the fence and climb down one of the stilts instead of using the stairs. I keep my back to the fire, and by the time I'm standing on the muddy ground, my night vision has improved. I keep down as I run from cover to cover to get to the boys' dorm from the side.

The children have stopped talking, and at one point I see Ed's round face in the window, peering outside.

I hear Brazilians talking, and I'm almost at the boys' dorm when I see them. There's two of them, both short, like most Latinos are. One of them is holding a gas canister up and shaking it, and they're arguing. They seem to be the only ones around.

I raise my gun and aim at the one with the canister, squeeze the trigger just as their argument escalates into blows and the other one shoves him. The bullet still connects with flesh, just not with his chest where I aimed. His screams are louder than the bang echoing all through the camp.

I run over and grab the one still standing, shove the gun into his side. "How many more of you are there?"

The one on the ground is still screaming, clutching his left arm, as he writhes in the mud.

"How many?" I ask again, since the guy I'm holding is frozen stiff.

"Just us," he says in accented English.

He's just a kid, I realize, they both are. Eighteen at best.

"What happened?" Chloe yells, and I hear her sloshing through the mud behind me.

"Get that one inside and do what you can for him. Get Olivia to help you," I say and drag the one I'm holding towards the boys' dormitory, calling Ed as I do.

He comes down the steps just as I reach the drier ground under the building. My hostage is going willingly enough, probably still in shock from me shooting his friend.

"Ask him who sent them?" I instruct Ed, since I probably won't get very far in English.

Ed asks, and soon they start talking in rapid Brazilian. Olivia and Chloe are having a hard time getting the one I shot to keep still. But finally Olivia manages to quiet him with a few harsh, clipped words. He's able to stand on his own, and they lead him towards us.

Meanwhile Ed and the guy have stopped talking and the silence is very thick.

"What?" I ask Ed, who's staring at me like he's seeing a ghost.

"He claims he's the son of Duro, the cartel boss, and the one you shot is the guy's nephew," Ed says in a very shaky voice. "They came here on their own to take care of this problem for Duro, but people know where they are. They will be coming for them, if they don't return soon."

I don't doubt that, but maybe we still have a couple of hours. I hope we still have a couple of hours.

"Take the gun and shoot him, if he gives you a problem," I say. Ed doesn't react, just stares at me with his mouth open.

"Ed, do it," I say. "And I need a phone."

Ed finally snaps out of his shock and takes the gun. "My phone is up in my room, by my bed."

Upstairs, Olivia and Chloe have the injured guy on Ed's bed, and he's no longer struggling, looks about ready to pass out. His blood has already soaked through the thin mattress and is pooling on the floor beneath the bed.

"Try to keep him alive, if you can. Press down on the wound until it stops bleeding, and tie it off here, tight," I say, pointing at his bicep right below the shoulder."

My bullet went right through his upper arms and it looks like it severed some major vein. It'd be better for us if he lives, but he might not. And then the next best thing would be for me to kill the other one too, and bury their bodies deep in the jungle. But I'd rather not. They're just kids.

I run back to my bungalow to get Maluco's number. It just rings and rings. I've already decided to go back and kill the two kids when he finally picks up.

He's groggy when I start talking, but by the time I finally manage to convey the fact that we've caught the son of his enemy, he perks up.

"We will be there soon," he assures me.

But soon could be hours, if their HQ is closer to that bar I saved him at than to here.

And I'm not sure we have hours before the cartel comes to get their own back.

Chapter 15

Chloe

"He's not doing very well," I tell Rider as he returns to Ed's room. "He needs a hospital.

Rider's dragging the other boy into the room behind him, who freezes in the doorway when he sees his friend pale and lifeless on the bed.

"No hospital, not yet," Rider says and pulls the boy into the room roughly, causing him to fall to his knees.

I've never seen him like this. His face is a mask of violent determination, and he's handling this like he's done it all before. Like he's shot and killed men before. I'd be scared of him, if I wasn't absolutely certain he's doing it for me.

"Get everyone up to the big house and barricade yourselves in," he says. "I'll stay here with these two."

"I'll stay too," I say, walking to the door to tell Ed and Olivia what to do.

He pulls me closer, gently despite how hard he's gripping my arm. The green of his eyes is the only color I see.

"No, you go too," he says. "Bad shit will go down before morning. And if you need to, escape with the children into the jungle. I'll find you."

"Come with us," I plead, because something in his voice is telling me he'll do all he can to find us, but that it might not be enough. And I'm so scared right now, my legs are shaking.

"I started this shit, and I need to see it through," he says. "Else it'll never be done right. People are coming to help. Trust me, Chloe."

I nod and hug him tight, our lips finding each other for what I hope is not the last time.

"Hurry," he says, releasing me much too soon. "And don't come back down here, whatever you hear. Once you get to the house, find weapons to defend yourselves with. I'll come get you when it's safe."

I wouldn't know what to do, if he weren't telling me exactly what I should do. Because every ounce of my soul wants to stay here with him. But he's calm and the surety in his voice is calming me too.

He knows what he's doing and he wants only the best for me and the children. I clutch onto that knowledge to give me enough strength to leave him and get everyone up to the house.

Rider

Chloe went without arguing much, which is probably the result of the shock she's in from all that's happened. I didn't like the fear I saw in her eyes when she saw me like this, in my element as it were, because deadly violence always came naturally to me. I was an Enforcer for Viper's Bite MC for many years, and it's because of my ruthless efficiency that they let me do what I wanted, go where I wanted, whenever I wanted.

They made a lot of noise moving the kids up to the big house, some of the children crying and screaming. But now the hissing of the rain outside is all I can hear.

Getting them all to safety and far away from the main gate was my main goal in sending her up there. But I had another reason. If I have to kill these two boys, I want to do it as far away from Chloe and the rest as I can. I'm still not sure that tonight's events won't go in that direction, even though it makes me sick to even consider it.

"My father will kill you all for this," the boss' son says.

"Yeah, but I'll kill you first," I say.

"He'll torture you before he kills you," he says in a more shaky voice.

"Shut up."

I want to be alone with my thoughts right now. They're not very clear as it is, and the last thing I need is to argue with a kid. Death would be the kindest of all the things that might happen to me and the rest when the cartel gets here. But I don't think we can all hope for that. They'll probably sell Chloe and Olivia, and probably all the girls into sexual slavery. Maybe even the boys. And they'll probably torture me and Ed before they kill us, just like the kid threatened.

The one I shot takes a rattling breath.

"He's dying!" the live one shrieks, an he's probably right.

"Your father shouldn’t have sent you here alone," I say.

"He didn't," he says. "We came on our own, because we wanted to get rid of these orphans that have been bothering him so much lately. We thought he'd be proud."

"How old are you?" I ask.

"Seventeen," he answers.

I wish I hadn't asked. Seventeen is too young to die. But they did a man's thing here tonight, and they might have to pay a man's price for it.

The injured one's breathing has slowed again, and the other little piece of shit stays silent.

Before long, day is dawning outside, the rain still coming down hard. I'm listening hard for approaching bikes, but there is only the tapping of raindrops on the roof and the hissing of the rain.

Until suddenly that stops too, and then there's just silence, the sun shining down on the orphanage, which is already as empty as a ghost town.

The sound of approaching engines breaks the silence. But they're not the right kind. This is cars.

A few moments later I can hear men talking, guns getting cocked and shot guns loaded.

I get up, pull the un-injured kid to his feet too, and shove the gun in his side. "Not a fucking sound out of you, is that clear?"

"You're dead now. That's my father and his men."

He didn't have to tell me, I already knew it. Maluco and his cobras didn't get here in time. The cartel beat him to it.

I'd hoped to handle this hostage exchange discussion far away from here, but now all I've achieved is bringing the entire cartel down on us right on our doorstep.

I've gotten soft. I should've killed these two and escaped with Chloe and the kids in the night. We could be deep in the jungle by now. But now we're all most likely drawing our last breaths of freedom. At least Chloe and the others don't know it yet.

Chapter 16

Rider

The first of the men have reached the boys' dorm, I can hear them talking right under us.

"What's your name?" I ask the kid.

"Francisco Santos de—"

"That's all I need," I interrupt.

"I have Francisco!" I yell. "Drop your weapons and go back to your cars. Then I'll send him out to you!"

The walls of these houses are paper thin, and I know they can hear me clearly. The silence that follows my words confirms it. Maybe there's still a way to move this altercation to somewhere else.

"Send him out now, and you won't all die."

Francisco shouts something in Brazilian, but I punch him in the jaw so hard I might have broken it before he can finish his sentence.

He screams and the men outside all start shouting at once. I hear at least two of them running up the creaking stairs. I shoot a round through the roof. It's a waste of a bullet, but it's not like I'll do a lot with single, not even fully loaded Glock anyway.

The noise outside dies down to complete fucking silence again.

"Let's cool it!" I shout. "That was a warning shot. The next one goes through Francisco's head."

They're talking now, but in whispers, and I finally hear the sound I've been yearning to hear since this mess started. The roar of hogs approaching is unmistakable, fills this entire valley with noise that sounds better than all the angels in heaven singing at once.

Ed's phone is ringing in my pocket. I pick up, dragging Francisco to the back window from where I can just see the entrance to the camp. And hear gun fire.

"I have the boss' son and nephew in the big building by the showers," I tell Maluco on the phone. "Don't kill them all before we have a chance to negotiate."

"Negotiate?" he says and barks a harsh laugh. "We have your camp surrounded. I will send some men to get the hostages, and we will take it from here."

The gun fire is getting closer, so close I'm sure Chloe can hear it. I hope she doesn't come down here. I hope she understood that she needs to wait for me to come for her no matter what.

There's shouting too, and a bullet comes through the floor, mere inches from my foot, sending my adrenaline pumping worse than it already was. I'm itching to join the fight, it always works that way for me. I've never walked away from a fight, some I've even walked right into without needing to. Like saving Maluco the other day, which might have just saved us all. But the desire to join this shootout is a distant thing today, because you never know if you'll walk away from a fight you walked into, and I want to see Chloe again.

The gunfire stops suddenly, all that's left of it faint echoes of the bangs, interspersed by angry words and moans of the dying. I know those well.

Francisco is shaking, pisses himself once heavy boots thudding can be heard outside the room we're in.

Maluco enters, followed by two other bikers.

"Only ten cartel members came to get these two," he tells me. "I'll take the hostages now."

Francisco actually grabs my arm as I shove him towards Maluco. He's a scared little kid right now, but he came here to do murder last night, and I have no compassion for him. I figure Maluco won't harm him, he's too valuable a hostage.

"That one needs a doctor, if you want him to live," I say, pointing at the kid I shot.

"We'll take care of it," Maluco says, directing the two bikers with him to pick up the unconscious kid, while he grabs Francisco's arm.

"I will leave some of my men here, in case the cartel comes back," he says and chuckles. "But I do not think they will."

"Thank you," I say as he retreats out.

Francisco is resisting so hard he practically has to drag him. But after a few short words in Brazilian the kid relaxes.

"We will talk when all is done," Maluco says.

I know what that means. He plans to use me if he needs me after this, and I'm sure Chloe won't like that. She wouldn't like me handing over the two hostages to him either, but everything can be lived with, as long as you live. Which I'm finally beginning to hope we might.

And from now on, nothing will keep me away from Chloe again.

I spend the briefest time introducing myself to the bikers who are staying, before rushing up the ravine, trying to run up to the big house. But the mud is preventing that, since my legs sink in up to my knees in some places.

I'm breathless and covered in mud by the time I reach the house.

"Chloe! It's me!" I yell after my knocks on the front door go unanswered.

A French window to the side of the main door opens and Chloe peers outside. She doesn't say anything, just comes out on the porch and runs towards me. She jumps into my arms when I open them, not saying anything, just holding onto me very tightly like she did on the night I came back.

"Is it over?" she finally whispers, soft like she's afraid to ask.

I shift her in my arms so I can look into her face. "Yes, it's over, you're safe now."

"And we can stay?"

"Yes, we can stay."

The smile she gives me is more radiant than any sunshine I've ever seen, or felt, on my face. If she'll smile at me like that forever, I'll be the happiest man on earth and in heaven.

Chapter 17

Chloe

We've done some serious hard labor as a team these past couple of weeks, but we managed to clear out enough of Gustavo's house for all of us to live in it. It’ll take at least a couple more months to do so comfortably, because Gustavo really had a lot of stuff, but we'll get there. And then we can take in more orphans, get more volunteers.

I don't know the full details of what the bikers and the cartel worked out between them, since Rider is not very forthcoming with that information, but there was an exchange of hostages, and part of the deal was that they will leave the orphanage alone forever. All of Dom Gustavo's estate is now considered the territory of Dois Cobras biker club, and any attack against us is an attack against them. Rider explained to me that bikers take that kind of a promise seriously, and that it means we truly are safe.

He's also made a point of clearing out a small bedroom for us in the house. In fact, it was one of the first things he did. It's where we've been sleeping, and even though it's raining outside this morning, I felt as though the sun woke me. The bed we're in is three times as wide as the one in my bungalow was, but we're still sleeping very close together, spooning, his arm wrapped around my waist, the embrace growing tighter. He's awake too.

I realize that a split second before he kisses my neck, his soft lips and the stubble on his chin igniting sparks deep within me, sending them rushing all through my body, as his lips and his hands get bolder. He's caressing and squeezing the soft flesh of my breasts, my stomach, his hand dipping to my pussy and up to my neck, my jaw, and back down, until I'm moaning in anticipation of the even greater bliss his hard cock, pulsing against the back of my thigh, is promising.

His hand settles on my clit, rubbing it in slow circles as he kisses my neck some more, biting down just as he pushes the head of his cock into my opening. I moan and whimper at the same time, my breath stuck in my throat. He continues teasing my clit as he starts pumping his cock into me deeper and faster. My body's opening up to receive him, while his talented fingers bring the orgasmic explosion of the bliss building inside me ever closer.

"You're all mine, right?" he whispers just as an orgasm erupts inside me, the molten lava of pleasure filling me with unstoppable, sight and mind-taking force.

"Yes." I moan the word, coaxing it out with the last dregs of conscious control I still have over my mind.

He pulls out his cock from my still clenching pussy. A second later, I realize he meant the question quite literally, as I feel the head of his cock pressing against my other hole. The orgasm he just gave me has not quite faded yet, as he pushes his cock past the barrier, leaving me gasping for breath all over again, as I will my body to accommodate him where he wants to be. He's thick and long yet slides in easily, filling me yet again and even more completely this time.

His hand is still playing with my clit, as he starts pumping his cock into me faster and with purpose. Somehow, whatever pain there is, fades before it erupts. He's everywhere in my body now, it feels like, taking me for his own so completely we truly are blended into one. Another orgasm is a fast approaching train, one I wish would slow down so I can savor this blissful oneness just a little while longer.

But he's close, I can feel that too, and I want him to come, want to offer him the same pleasure he's giving me, that he keeps giving me. He picks up the pace, sending me shrieking, as his fingers start rubbing my clit faster. I yelp as he pushes two fingers into my pussy, scream for real as he starts pumping them over that special spot inside me. I'm coming so hard I see the blinding sun that isn't there, along with the moon and all the stars in this galaxy and the next.

My heart's still beating fast, my body shivering from the violent explosion of pleasure when I regain my awareness. He's once again just holding me, kissing my neck softly.

"We should probably get up and start this day," he whispers once I open my eyes.

I make a faint sound of agreement, since he's right.

"I wish we could just stay right here all day," I murmur. "And tomorrow, and the day after."

"Me too," he says and kisses my neck a little harder, making me moan, reawakening all those fiery sparks like we're just getting started all over again.

"But we can't, there's too much to do," I conclude.

He hugs me tight again then releases me. "I'll build you a house once we're all done fixing this one up. A home just for the two of us, overlooking the ocean. Would you like that?"

I sit up and smile at him exactly the way I used to smile back when the world was still a safe, fun, carefree place. Which it is again, I suddenly realize, even more so than it was before.

"I would love that," I say and keep smiling.

His eyes are soft like a field of lush green grass on a lazy summer afternoon, and if I don't look away right now I'll get lost on those endless slopes and never be found again.

So I look into his eyes even deeper, because I'm not getting lost. I am found.

Epilogue

Chloe

About a year and a half later

"Come, Chloe! It is finished!" Diego shouts, running down the incline at such speed I'm afraid he'll fall and break something.

But there's such glee in his face, such wild excitement, I stop myself from telling him to slow down.

"Your home, it's done!" he says breathlessly as he reaches me.

My chest is swelling with all the excitement and happiness that's bubbling from him, as I let him drag me back up the ravine to the spot right at the highest point of the estate, which Rider chose to build our house on.

The smell of fresh wood reaches me seconds before I see the home he's build for me, for us. It's shaped almost exactly like the thatched-roof bungalow where our love blossomed and our life together started. Only it's the grown up, permanent version of it, topped by a real roof that can withstand any storm.

Diego leads me up the wide wooden staircase to the large deck the juts out from the house. I can see past the jungle below, all the way to the ocean, to an entire bay stretching out all the way to the horizon, the water sparkling gold and white in the midday sun.

"Do you like it?" Rider asks, coming up behind me and wrapping his arms around my waist.

"Love is not a strong enough word to describe how much," I say, closing my fingers around his forearm, because I need to hold him too.

Diego and Pedro are bouncing beside us with excitement. They, and most of the older kids at the orphanage helped him build this home in the last few months after we got done fixing up Dom Gustavo's house to serve as the orphanage from now on. More children came once it was done, and most of the volunteers returned to help. Ed and Olivia both stayed too, and after the run-in with the cartel, even Ed and Rider became the best of friends. I think Ed and Olivia might be on the verge of declaring their love for each other, but they've been very secretive about it, and I don't want to pry.

My deepest dreams have been coming true one after another, since Rider came into my life, and this one—a home for me and the man I never want to live without—is the perfect topping to it all. Almost…

I lean my head against his shoulder and look up to see the glorious view reflected in his perfect eyes. "I was thinking we could go away for a couple of days. As in just the two of us, and the open road. What do you think?"

His eyes are drowning me in love, desire, blissful wild abandon, that I have no power to resist, nor will I ever try to. He hasn't mentioned wanting to go riding, but I know he must be yearning for it. He's even started to work on his bike more now that the orphanage is set up and our house was almost finished.

"We could take your bike," I add smiling at him. The old restlessness I used to feel, the one that drove me to just take off by myself practically every weekend back in my old life, has been creeping up on me too. And right now, as I see that same desire reflected back to me in his eyes, it's exploding inside me to the point that I don't know what we're still doing here.

"No, we'll take the jeep," he says. "So you can bring your surfboard."

The conviction in his voice brooks no argument, nor do I try to give any.

"Thanks," I whisper, and it's not nearly a strong enough word for the gratitude I feel that he came into my life, stayed, and continues to give me exactly what I always needed and wanted.

"I should be thanking you, Chloe," he says, hugging me even tighter. "For giving me the home I never had."

"You've given me so much more than that," I whisper. "You've given me my life back."

Then his lips find mine, because no words can ever express the bond we share. Our love is bigger than both of us, and still takes my breath away.

"Come on, Chloe, come see the inside," Kaia says impatiently. "It is beautiful."

The timid, frightened girl she was when she came here is completely gone. There's no denying her sparkling brown eyes, as she waves for me to follow her inside. I grab Rider's hand and pull him after me, since I want us to see our new home together.

Then later, once the kids leave to eat their lunch, we can christen it properly. I'll give myself to him in every room, and anywhere else he wants me, from now until our forever runs out. And tomorrow we'll go riding, sate our restlessness, which is just another thing we mirror so perfectly.

***

THE END

Thanks for reading! Rider’s Fall is a novella set in the world of Lena Bourne’s completed Viper’s Bite MC Romance series. To check out the other books in the series, visit:

http://www.lenabourne.com/

About the Author

Lena Bourne writes steamy, suspenseful romantic stories, which include bad boy romances, MC romances, dark romances, military romances, sports romances, and many more. Hot bedroom scenes and fast-paced, action packed plots are Lena’s specialty. Her heroines are strong, sassy and independent, and her heroes are usually rough-around-the-edges alpha bad boys.

Read More from Lena Bourne

http://www.lenabourne.com/

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A Miracle in Hawaii

Fiona Miers

Samara Jenkins is on a mission, a baby mission. She has taken a year off to get healthy and start IVF before severe endometriosis takes its toll on her fertility. But when her parents need her savings, and the opportunity arises, Samara agrees to take a design job for the King hotel in Hawaii. Her challenge is to get the old girl back on her feet in two weeks, then it’s back to her baby goal.

Julian King was looking the wrong way when his head manager and friend defrauded their company and caused the financial collapse of one of their hotels. Wracked with guilt and anger, he flies to Hawaii to put the hotel back on its feet, only to find that his mother has hired a perky little designer to help him.

Samara and Julian are like fire and ice, and yet they slide together into a hot, working holiday fling. But when Julian declares he doesn’t want anything long term, Samara leaves Hawaii, and takes something of Julian’s with her.

To Sarah, my beautiful woman.

Thanks for the inspiration for this heroine.

Your journey has been awesome to watch.

Chapter 1

The hot Hawaiian breeze ruffled Samara Jenkin’s hair, providing a small amount of relief from the sticky humidity at her neck. She waved her hands ineffectually over her face, trying to cool her heated cheeks.

Against all the promises she’d made to herself about taking this year off work, she’d accepted this job and was now paying for it.

“Argh. Just think of the money.”

She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the sidewalk as she waited for some assistance. The hotel’s owners wanted an honest appraisal of the state of their business and a strategy to improve sales.

She already had a list as long as her arm. Where was the concierge? Where was the bell boy? Where the hell was any staff member at this supposedly five-star resort?

Ridiculous! No wonder they called me.

She exhaled sharply, blowing the hair out of her eyes as she looked up at the thirty-story building. Aesthetically, it could use some work. Peeling paint littered the side of every surface, cracked windows made her grimace with the safety hazard they caused, and the eaves needed some attention, but the old girl displayed great architecture and presence. So much potential.

Obviously, she was going to wait all day in the sun unless she did something herself to change it, which disappointed her. The owner knew she planned to be here today. She arrived on time. There was no excuse for her not to be greeted at least by someone.

She took a measured breath, trying to push down the rising tide of frustration. When her parents called to say they were at risk of losing their house between health issues and pending foreclosure, she’d been happy to help. But that meant the money she’d saved for this year was half gone, and this one job would refill her coffers.

So, be grateful to this client, not pissy.

Her foot tapped harder and faster against the concrete, increasing the tempo as each notch of her temper stoked higher. Her pointed, strappy shoes made a slapping noise that started to irritate even her. Sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades and she shivered against the disgusting feeling.

“Yuck. Enough.”

She threw up her hands and grabbed her luggage. Her eyes narrowed on the entrance and she stalked toward the double glass doors at a determined pace. She skidded to a halt a mere inch from breaking her nose, her ankle twisting as she threw on the anchors too late. Pain seared around her foot as the cold glass kissed the very tip of her nose and she glared through the door, waiting for it to respond.

Nothing.

She stepped backward and forward again, looking up at the sensor above the door and waited.

They didn’t open.

You’re kidding me? Should I wave my hands in the air like a crazy person now?

She peered through the glass and saw a young man in uniform hurrying toward her. He appeared to press a button beside the door and whoosh, the doors opened and cool air brushed past her heated face, bringing with it a huge sigh of relief from her body.

“I am so sorry, ma’am. Can I help you with your bags?”

The youth, who had pimply skin and bright, happy eyes, did not deserve the extended list of complaints bubbling up on her tongue.

She took a deep breath and focused on what he could do for her. “Yes, you can. Please take my suit cases and I’d like to check in.”

The bell boy, or maitre’d—she wasn’t quite sure which role he filled since he appeared to be the only person working at the hotel—took her suitcases off her hands with a grabbing, fast motion. He then turned on his black shoes that squeaked as he walked, and dragged her matching bags half off their wheels as he hurried back to the main reception. She cringed as she watched them teeter and bang against the marble floor.

She looked away, anger rising inside her gut to see her luggage get abused like that. But the last thing she wanted to do was start grumbling at the only staff member she’d met. Instead, she glanced around the huge room.

Her shoulders dropped and her hands unclenched as she marveled at the room in which she stood. So grand, with a beautiful mystique that only period hotels and houses possessed. This hotel reminded her of an old lady—she had great bones, but they were tired. She would fix that.

“Please come over.”

Samara tried not to notice that he’d dropped her custom, monogrammed luggage near the elevator, and then had rushed over to the desk where a computer stood waiting.

“Your name, ma'am?”

She bit her lip for a moment. Seriously? You’ve actually got other people booked to check in today? She couldn’t say the thought aloud, so instead dragged her manners out of the over-cooked soup they were swimming in. “Samara Jenkins.”

He tapped away on the computer until he finally held out a plastic card to her with the hotels brown emblem on it.

“Room 2002, ma’am. Level twenty, room two. One of our best suites. May I accompany you up?”

She waved her hands at him. If he left the foyer, who was going to let any other possible customers into the hotel? That broken glass door certainly wasn’t going to just start working on its own. “No thanks, but can you bring up the larger suitcase in an hour or so?”

The stink of crowded planes and cars, and hours of waiting in the heat and humidity had all left a stain that needed to be washed away. Preferably somewhere quiet, where she could be alone and think for a minute.

Samara picked up her smaller suitcase, which contained a change of clothes and toiletries. A shower was definitely first priority on her list. With a determined clench of her jaw, she turned around and strode over to the lift, releasing a sigh when the doors dinged and opened. She wasn’t walking up twenty flights of stairs.

She’d go home and damn the massive commission before that ever happened.

You need it, don’t kid yourself.

A frown pulled down her lips. She’d had enough money for her plans, until her parents called with their life altering news. But not even a week after she’d handed over half her saving to her parents had fate delivered a favor in the form of a phone call from the matriarch of this hotel empire. Samara had been offered this job and it would replace all the money she’d lost with only a few weeks of work. As long as she delivered the results they wanted.

She could have tried to accomplish everything she wanted to do this year without the money, but their offer was far too good to turn down.

Stepping inside the elevator, she pressed the tip of her forefinger to the dusty button for the twentieth floor, gripping the rail. The moving box’s cables screeched and moaned as it hauled her up the shaft. This elevator didn’t look like it had been updated since the inception of the hotel. If the cables failed, or the electricity went out, she’d be stuck in the elevator without water for hours. Not a pleasant prospect in this heat. She grabbed for her bag to check if she had anything with her to survive such an event. The elevator ground to a clunking halt.

A squeak popped out of her throat, grabbing for the gold railing as the doors dinged open.

Oh, thank goodness for that. Something else to put on the list. Can’t have the guests fearing for their lives every time they go back to their rooms.

Large blue eyes, set in a very handsome face, stared at her from the center of the hallway. “Miss Jenkins, I presume?” His cool, familiar New York tones straightened her spine.

“Hold the door for me would you, please?” She looked away from his intense gaze, arousal curling in her belly like an old, absent friend. She locked her hand into the handle on her small suit case and took a shallow breath as he stepped close and did as she’d asked. Twisting his huge body to the side, he placed his arm out to stop the elevator door from closing on her.

His eyes followed her with an intensity that had her belly tightening and blood rushing through her nether regions. His face was cut like the smoothest stone, his strong and angular cheek bones reminding her of old roman warriors she’d once seen paintings of. Real men. Men that forced their enemies to their knees, and often, all the women around them too.

Her breath locked in her throat as she moved past him, the presence of his huge body in the door making heat warm her cheeks that had nothing to do with the summer air. She wasn’t short by anyone’s standard, but at five foot seven she was at least six inches shorter than he was. She felt like a dwarf facing a giant. Who was this? He knew her name, but how? It couldn’t be the owner who had hired her, although he had the air of someone with money. A lot of money.

“Excuse me.”

She stepped onto the landing and moved toward the door that had 2002 on the panel, trying very hard not to turn around and stare at the man behind her. Every cell in her body grew far too aware of him. The hairs stood up on her neck.

Professional, stay professional. Why did he have to be so gorgeous?

The man behind her had to be a manager of some sort. He was the only one she’d met so far who knew who she was, and he obviously had anticipated her arrival and had been waiting for her.

She placed her small suitcase and handbag against her room door, her skin tingling with the awareness of being watched. Then, when she was sure she had schooled her features into something resembling calm, she turned around, her heart leaping at the sight of the man behind her. He was so gorgeous. Tall, broad and with full lips that would curve beautifully when he eventually smiled. Her skin tingled from just looking at him.

She focused for a moment and dismissed the idea he was a manager. His suit was worth more than her wardrobe put together. And if that wasn’t enough, the man in front of her had an arrogance in his posture that she’d come to see only from people born into wealth.

“Yes, I’m Samara Jenkins, and you are?” She squared her shoulder and stood facing the large man on the landing. His eyes were a startling blue, like a bright summer sky. With his dark-brown hair and fair skin, the combination was rare and beautiful. The saliva gathered in her mouth, making her swallow awkwardly.

“Julian King. My mother was the one that hired you.”

Her eyes slid down his body, the breadth of his shoulders as impressive as any footballer’s. His black suit appeared tailor made, beautiful in design, and comprised of strong lines that made him look like a panther about to pounce. She shivered at the thought.

“I’m sorry I didn’t greet you downstairs, but I wanted you to experience the hotel as it currently is.”

That explained a lot, although a touch of forewarning may not have gone astray. “We have a lot to discuss. I have a list a mile long already of things that need to be altered and implemented, and I haven’t even stepped inside my room yet.”

He chuckled, a soft earthy sound that surprised her. “I assure you that I have everything under control. You are here as an advisor, nothing more.”

Ice slid on to her shoulders and she straightened her spine. That wasn’t what she’d been told, but she’d gotten around difficult men before. Minding their fragile egos while doing her job was a specialty of hers. “I didn’t realize that was what I had agreed to, Mr. King.”

His lips tilted up into a soft smile as though he agreed with her. “I was told you were the best, although I didn’t expect you to be quite so young.”

There was a tone of admiration and reluctant respect in his voice that pleased her. It tickled right along her spine. She’d heard that a lot over the past ten years, and she always enjoyed her clients surprise when she exceeded their expectations. She was good at her job, and her age had nothing to do with it. The original trouble she’d had starting her business only meant she’d increased her commission to prove she was worth it.

“I didn't expect you at all, Mr. King.” When she’d pictured who she was going to meet on arriving, she’d envisioned either the elderly woman who’d hired her over the phone, or perhaps the manager.

He inclined his head with a more natural smile flirting on his lips. “Touché. Let’s meet downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

Samara checked her watch. It may be dinner time here but in New York it was going on 2 am. No wonder her eyes were tired and her neck ached. She’d barely slept on the plane.

“Make it an hour, if possible. Where shall I meet you?”

His flaring nostrils was the only give away that she had displeased him, but she stood her ground, calmly waiting for his response while fanning her face with her hand. It was way too hot in this hotel for comfort.

“The hotel’s restaurant for dinner. It’s on the ground floor.”

Perfect place to start.

She could definitely eat something, although she didn’t have much of an appetite after traveling all day. She nodded at him to agree, although her head swam from fatigue and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“See you in one hour, Miss Jenkins.”

He turned and strode toward the lift. Samara couldn’t stop her eyes from dropping down to drift over his body as he moved away. Her hungry gaze devoured his angles as he put both hands in his pants pockets, pulling the jacket up and stretching it tight across his rounded butt.

She bit her lip as she looked her fill, desire fluttering low in her belly. He had the perfect arse, long legs, a tapered waist and huge, broad shoulders. The combination was heady indeed. He was definitely one of the most imposing men she’d ever seen in real life.

A tailored suit made most men look good, but this one actually seemed to hamper his beauty. She could sense the power leashed beneath that black cloth, and she could only imagine how amazing he’d look without the modern armor.

The old elevator dinged and groaned as it opened and Samara sighed as she pushed her way into her room, letting perhaps the most breath-taking man she’d ever seen slip from her mind. His hotel rooms needed to be at the forefront of her racing brain and that was how it would stay.

Unlike everything else she’d seen so far in the hotel, the card the clerk had given her was at least new. She had to concentrate with the man behind her causing an unusual breathlessness in her chest, but she managed to slide the plastic into the lock shaft.

She waited. She glanced up at the door. Nothing. Her eyes flicked up to the number on the door. Yes, it was the right room. So she jiggled it until the red light eventually turned green.

How can they charge people three hundred dollars a night if the keys don’t even work?

She pushed open the door with one hand and dragged her suitcase in with the other.

The bell boy had been right. Her suite was massive and would have been very grand once upon a time, but the room hadn’t been aired out in weeks. A musky, damp smell curled up her nostrils that would put off anyone who liked clean air.

Gross.

She placed her small luggage by the wardrobe and raced over to the window, pushing open the sliding glass and allowing some of the humid, but fresh air into the room. Inhaling a few good lungful’s, she grabbed the courage to turn back around and inspect the rest of the room.

The king-sized bed was in the right place. Small, cheap looking nightstands framed the bed, disappointing her. The bed covers didn’t suit the color of the walls, but overall, it wasn’t too bad decor. For a three-star hotel.

She snorted and marched over to the bathroom. This would be the test. Pulling open the door, she gagged for breath as the stale smell of urine, bleach, and hot, pungent air took flight inside her throat.

“Holy mother of....” She rushed back to the window, opening every glass pane that would open. She took several slow breaths, her mind whirling with the work before her. Grass roots job this was. Cleaning staff, decoration, the whole lot, and then she’d see if the gorgeous Mr. King had what it took to get his hotel back up to the standard that it deserved.

She was so much more beautiful than he’d expected. It was true, those that had raved of her characteristics often threw words around like gorgeous, stunning and lovely into their appraisals, but he’d taken it with the mountain of salt he’d thought it deserved.

He’d been wrong. And he wasn’t often wrong.

Surprising, for sure, that the woman his parents had lumbered him with for a fortnight, was so lovely to look at. He didn’t want help, hadn’t asked for it, nor did he think he needed it. He took full responsibility for the state the hotel presented currently. He’d hired an executive manager two years ago to oversee the hotels every day running, and he’d been very, very wrong in his estimation of Kostas Dean. A villain, pure and simple.

When Julian’s marriage ended and he’d needed time away from business, Kostas stepped up. But instead of looking after his company the way Julian expected, Kostas had siphoned money, hidden the complaints, and threatened senior management with job loss if they dared step out of line.

They were in a lot of trouble by the time Julian came back to his senses and picked up his role again.

Kostas was missing, with several million dollars of their money.

But he’d be found. Eventually.

Julian glanced down at his watch just as the second hand ticked toward the number twelve. An hour had passed since he’d seen Miss Samara Jenkins. The door to the restaurant opened and then clicked shut again. A smile tugged at Julian’s lips. On time to the second.

She walked toward him, her thin, plain blue cotton dress clinging to her lush curves. Where was the battle armor that he’d come to expect with business women? She wore natural makeup that accentuated her pretty face, and her entire ensemble had a relaxed holiday feel about it that he hadn’t expected. She wore flat shoes, her hair down, and no jewelry.

Samara Jenkins had a body that would look spectacular naked, and stretched across his bed. Long hair that would cover her full breasts like a silky curtain, and lips that would be perfect to kiss. He raised his eyes from the full curve of her mouth to make eye-contact and her fresh face hit him right in the gut.

They’d lied about her being beautiful.

Breath taking seemed far more apt.

Samara pulled out the chair and took the seat opposite him. “This hotel is in dire straits. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so bad before.”

The smile that had been playing at his lips as he’d imagined her naked converted into a tight frown. He cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, unable to simply just take her criticism. He opened his mouth to defend his hotel, then snapped it shut again.

She has a point.

Three months more of the current climate and he’d have to shut the hotel down to sit here and rot. He would never allow that to happen on his watch, and although he didn’t require her help, she was here. He would be stupid indeed not to take advantage of it. “What do you suggest, Miss Jenkins?”

She grinned at him with sunny warmth and picked up the menu. “That's the spirit. I like it. Can we order first?” She glanced down into her menu. Her mouth tweaked up at the corners as she read, her happy face at odds with the churning in Julian's guts. What was wrong with him?

Samara lifted her head and swiveled like a bird, eyes alert and neck straight. “Where are the staff? This is the hotel’s five-star restaurant, is it not?”

That twist in his belly rolled some more as his cheeks flared with heat. Each sentence she uttered reminded him of how badly he’d failed in his job of maintaining his family’s holdings. How much work this hotel actually needed to get it back to the standard it had once boasted. She was the salt in a very large wound, and to make matters worse, his own mother had been the one throwing the salt.

He lifted his hand and indicated to the man lolling around in the corner of the room. The youth sashayed over, his hips taking on a music of their own.

“Yeah?” the waiter asked him.

A little giggle burst from Samara's mouth. “Ooh, we are in some serious trouble.”

“I'll have the steak,” Julian ground out, glaring at the youth until he looked at the carpet. Samara’s relaxed attitude grated on his nerves. This was serious. They were losing tens of thousands by the day and she was giggling her way through dinner. Why the hell had his mother hired this woman?

Because she’s the best, they all said it. Just wait! You can’t afford for any of this to go wrong.

“And you, ma'am?” the waiter asked, inclining his head towards Samara.

Finally, some manners.

“I'll have the garlic shrimps for entree, the fillet steak for main and the chocolate soufflé for dessert.”

The waiter’s eyes bulged a little at her order but he pulled out his pen and pad from his pocket and wrote it all down, Julian hoped, correctly.

Samara’s keen eyes watched the waiter as he walked away and then gave Julian a pointed stare as though trying to communicate without words just how bad the service was. Anger rolled in his belly like a storm cloud, his hands fisting on the white table cloth as he maintained eye contact with her green gaze. He’d thought he’d be prepared for how badly the hotel would fare under the stare of a professional, but he had been grossly mistaken.

Pride warred with stubborn arrogance. Maybe, just maybe, he could use her to help. He was surprised by her order, but didn’t say anything. Either she was hungry after her journey, or she was testing out the skills of his cook. He was impressed either way. Bird-like salads were no way to eat, for anyone.

Her lips twisted up into a grimace. “No drinks order and he didn’t ask how I wanted my steak cooked… Interesting.”

Julian nodded once in acceptance of her complaint. Too true.

When the incompetent waiter finally left, Julian grabbed for his water, gulping down some of the cold liquid as his aching throat cried out for it. When he placed it down, some of his thirst quenched, Samara's cool green eyes continued to stare at him.

“Start from the beginning, Mr. King, and tell me how this happened.”

Julian took a moment, and a long breath, to consider how much he should tell her. He didn’t want her help. But she was here and he would consider what she had to say. His mother was paying her to consult for them, and before all of this, that would have been enough.

However, she didn’t need to know everything. “All right, Miss Jenkins. As my mother would have told you over the phone, my family owns a chain of hotels all over the world. Over the past year, their management had become increasingly questionable.” And his parents would never forgive him for screwing his way through Europe instead of being at home, running the company, while his legacy fell apart. The worst part was, that he’d bribed most of the executive managers to hide what he was doing. His treachery had reached far and wide. “All the other hotels had good enough staff to survive the storm and since we found who’d been syphoning money, the bleeding has stopped. We are re-building. New managers have been hired and the other hotels are thriving. This one however, is not. Despite us hiring the best local manager we could find. That is why I am here….” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “And the reason I believe my mother hired you. She was told that you have an exceptional brain for analyzing what any business needs, if you indeed have it.”

She didn’t respond to his back handed compliment except to bite on her lip in the most adorable way that made him want to lean in and take over with his own mouth.

“Is there any particular reason why the management of your hotel became questionable?”

He clenched his teeth together and inhaled through his nose. It hurt, like picking at a sore to be admitting this to her, but he was an adult, and responsible for his own actions. “I wasn’t paying attention as I should have been. Personal reasons.”

She gave him a soft smile that did nothing to maintain the ice around his heart.

“I won’t ask you what sort of personal reasons, Mr. King, it is none of my business, but I am going to assume such problems are behind you?”

Bloody hell, yes.

He nodded once and she continued. “From what I’ve seen, we’ll need months to get this hotel back to a standard that can be classed as five star, but I don't have that much time.”

“Yes, your personal reasons.”

“Just so.” She inclined her head again, a mutual respect for their private lives firmly in place. His mother had made it clear that she was only available for two weeks. It had been one of the only reasons he had allowed his parent going over his head and hiring a consultant to help him. He wouldn’t have to deal with her interference for very long.

Just think of her as an over qualified assistant, and fix up this mess, Julian. The last words his mother had said to him, over a week ago.

“However, I will give you these two weeks, Mr. King, and I promise to work my absolute hardest to put into place everything you will need. Once I am done, do you have strategies in place to get people back to the hotel?”

He nodded firmly, reluctantly impressed with her. She was right, two weeks was not long enough to get everything done that needed to be done, but if he decided that she’d be of use to him, he would change her mind. She’d stay. He’d make sure of it.

However, she’d made a valid point. Many people had been driven away by the declining standards of the hotel, and it was his main job to do everything in his power to get people back onto the grounds. But that meant he needed someone else manning the changes to the actual hotel.

Damn. Mom might actually be right about this one.

“Yes, Ms. Jenkins. I have a marketing expert on standby and several conferences already booked for next month. The one advantage we have is that we are one of the few hotels on the island with large facilities and the rooms to house several hundred people.”

“Fantastic.”

Her shrimp arrived and they looked and smelled great. His stomach grumbled in preparation for his own meal.

“Presentation is respectable, but I would expect less shrimp on the plate, and more color in an entree.” She took a forkful of rice and ate a single shrimp. Just one? “They are cooked… all right, although I believe you will need to hire a head chef to take over from the current one.”

“You can tell that already?”

She blinked once, her eyes wide as they stared at him. “Of course. I spent several years training with five star restaurants and all of their staff. Chefs in particular. This is not up to the standard in taste, texture, or design. If you want people to pay twenty odd dollars for an entree, you better make sure it’s up to par.”

She had his curiosity well and sincerely hooked. “Why a head chef specifically?”

“Because it’s obvious that you have a cook posing as the head chef in your kitchen that is probably trying their best, but they don’t have the training, nor the skills. A proper head chef will organize the staff, train them, and add the correct flair to each dish. You won’t need much more staff in the kitchen I don’t believe, although of course I will assess that when I go in.”

She called the waiter over. “Thank you. May I have the main meal now please?”

Julian sat in awe watching her, the cool confidence, the girl next door beauty. Her brain appeared to work faster than anyone he’d ever met, and her earthiness was as refreshing as her simple clothes. “What else do you suggest?”

She sat up straighter, a grin stretching across her pink glossed lips. “Firstly, we need to get in a decorator. Tomorrow preferably. The rooms aren’t terrible, but they all need better linens, painting, and a very thorough cleaning at the very least.”

He kept his tone calm and raised one eyebrow. Did she want him to pick the hotel up and move it closer to the beach too? “That's all?”

She laughed. “You joke, but the list I have is huge. I need to interview every staff member and probably double the cleaning crew. This whole hotel needs maintenance. We need to hire a concierge and a proper manager. I assume there is one at the moment, although I have yet to meet them, but if they are in the same boat as the rest of the staff, then they need some serious re-training too.”

He cleared his throat. “I found the executive manager siphoning money from the hotel like many of the others. I fired him a few weeks ago. The local manager is not up to speed, you are quite right about that, so I will be hiring a new one.”

Their main meals arrived and Samara did a similar analysis, sampling everything on her plate, making similar comments, and then asking for the meal to be taken away.

Julian ate his steak while she talked about the amenities, the website, everything. He rarely felt out of depth with a person, in fact, from all his years in private school, college, university and then the corporate world, he'd never had an experience like this one. A literal whirl wind of information, design and strategy. If she was half as efficient and effective as she seemed to be, he’d have his family’s hotel back on track in no time.

When dessert arrived, she sighed dramatically. “Now this is what I'm talking about.”

“Why? Because it has cream and a mint leaf?”

The meal appeared dressed better than all the other meals, but he was by no means a food critic.

“That is an answer that is hard to explain to anyone who doesn’t love chocolate as much as I do.”

She took a bite and moaned, her eyes sliding closed in bliss. That primitive sound shot straight to his groin, hot blood throbbing along his cock as he imagined Samara beneath him making those same sounds. He bit back his own groan and looked away, unable to hide the effect she was having on him.

He needed a woman, and fast. It had been too long for him, obviously. Embarrassment bloomed into anger in his gut. Time to cut this meeting short and go back to his own room for a long, hot shower.

“I want a report on my desk by tomorrow morning. Good night Miss Jenkins.” He stood up and Samara gaped up at him. A twang of guilt hit him in the chest, but he pushed it away just as fast.

“Did I say something wrong?”

He tugged at his cufflinks and straightened his jacket, a cool breeze filling his throat and not allowing any warmth into his tone. “No, of course not. But there’s lots to do and not much time to do it in.”

She put her spoon down, her eyes showing confusion in their green depths. “All right. I’ll put everything down for you.”

His shoulders tightened with unease as he fought the need to apologize, sit down, and drown in her eyes once again. But that’s not what he was here to do.

“Sleep well, Ms. Jenkins.”

“Good night, Mr. King.”

Chapter 2

According to Julian’s mother, Samara only gave them two weeks. A ridiculous time line, but she had been uncompromising. A trait, he himself admired. However, the clock was ticking and the stress was mounting to get the hotel back on its feet.

His office door opened and shut. Samara’s soft foot falls sounded in the small room.

“Your report?” he asked her as he continued to stare at the computer screen. He’d slept terribly and currently it felt like tiny elves had taken their picks to his eye balls.

Visions of Samara’s abundant curves tortured him all night, and as he lifted his head to face her, the flesh and blood version of his dreams assailed him. She wore a knee length cotton skirt that swished around her shapely calves and a white top that exposed the creamy slopes of her full breasts, haunting him once again.

Didn’t the woman own a poncho she could throw on?

“Here it is.” She slid the papers along the desk toward him.

There was more than he’d expected considering he’d only given her a night and she would be jetlagged. Graphs, estimates, color schemes, details upon details.

“Thank you. You can go now.”

“Go, where?”

“Anywhere you like. I need a minute to go over your suggestions.”

He picked up the report, focusing on the words as he waited for her and her floral perfume cloud to leave. He reached the end of the third page and she was still casting a shadow over him. “Did you need something else, Ms. Jenkins?”

She didn’t respond and he sighed, reluctantly glancing up at her again. She had her arms crossed over her chest which caused her small cleavage to deepen above her white top.

Arousal flourished in his belly, hot and sharp.

He pushed himself back in his chair and suppressed the deep groan that rose in his throat. Her appeal was so different to anything else he’d experienced before. She wore no push up bras or designer dresses. Comfortable and casual, the opposite of sexy. Yet, the image of pulling her across the desk and undressing her with his teeth danced across his mind.

“Your family hired me to do what I can to fix the hotel. Why am I being pushed out of the loop? Can I start training staff, hiring professional decorators, and generally kicking ass?”

He admired her spunk, but after everything he’d been through with his manager recently, he needed to get one thing clear first. There was a hierarchy in every business and he sat at the top of this pyramid, paying her salary. His parents had handed over the reins to the company two years ago, and although they’d lost faith in his ability to run things, he wouldn’t have any of his contractors feeling the same way.

“Number one, I look forward to seeing you get started, however, I need to have a look at your proposals first. And number two. I didn’t hire you, my parents did, without my permission.”

Her eyebrows rose comically high on her pretty face. “Your permission? Aren’t they the parents and you the child? Why would they need your say so to make decisions about their hotel?”

With deliberate slowness he stood, leaning on the desk with both palms flat to the mahogany. His heart pumped louder in his ears, his arms trembling where he pressed them hard into the wood. He clung to his control because he knew Samara had no idea of the turmoil he was in. How his pride had been pricked when his mother hired Samara to help him, rather than allowing him to prove his worth on his own. But that didn’t mean she could question him in such a way.

“I am the sole director of my family’s hotels, my parents mere stock holders. You appear to be a appropriate choice for consultant, however I’ll be calling the shots”

“That seems like a waste of my talents and considering the deadlines we’re under, a huge waste of time.”

Although he agreed with her in principal, he wasn’t being hurried into any decisions by her. “Pardon me?”

“If I have to go through you every time I need to make a decision, we will never get this hotel back to the state it deserves.”

“You will defer to me in all decisions. You have no power here, Samara.”

“Then what do you suggest, Julian?”

His fingers curled into tight fists on the desk, blood pounding through his veins. He liked the way his name sounded on her lips. “Give me an hour to look over what you’ve put together, and then we’ll meet and I’ll tell you what is to be done. My parents are paying you a very large fee to be here and assist me, and I suggest you remember that.”

He didn’t like the fact that she was here, but overnight he’d decided that he would use her as he did all contractors, all employees. To assist him to do his job. She was here to help, and he’d make sure she earned every penny. In the end, though, he’d reap the rewards.

She nodded and left.

The triumph he expected to feel was missing as she took what warmth there was in the room with her. He sat back down in his large, leather director’s chair and poured over the graphs and information she’d put together. By the end of his reading he was more than impressed with the plan.

However, he was the one his parents had solely blamed for the collapse of their string of hotels, it was on his shoulders to fix everything that was done. In her report, Samara had concentrated far too much on the appearance of the hotel and he was going to cut that back. Focus on the service. That’s why people came to expensive hotels in the first place.

A knock sounded on the door and she stepped into his office, clipboard and pen in hand. “Are you ready for our meeting?”

Very ready. Although I’d prefer if you wore a kaftan. “Yes. Sit.”

She strode in and sat in the chair opposite him, her knees together, her spine ram rod straight and her pen poised.

“A lot of your recommendations have merit.” He put the papers out on the desk, gratified by his red penned circles and many crossings out. “I want you to focus on re-training the staff, hiring more people, including three new assistant managers, and putting lots of check lists in place. When you leave in thirteen days, the staff need to have a detailed systems and operational manual.”

She looked down at the mess he’d made of her carefully laid out notes with a furrowed brow. “You want to ignore all the decorative changes I suggested?” Her tone was strained, and confused.

“Not all of them, but we need to focus on the running of the hotel before worrying about aesthetics.”

She bit her lip and shuffled in her chair, the debate going on in her head obvious by the flickering in her eyes and her lips going up and down. “I disagree.”

“Tell me why.”

She tapped the pen against the clipboard, reminding him of a school teacher he’d once had at boarding school. She’d been young and beautiful too. The object of his fantasies for many years.

“I’m sorry, but you’re wrong, Julian. I can understand if you want to pull back on the number of rooms to re-decorate, perhaps focusing on a dozen suites to start with would be better, but ignoring the room updates completely is like…eating organic fruit and vegetables while dressing like a homeless person. No one’s going to see the good that’s beneath.”

He struggled not to smile at her analogy. Her spark was back and he was relieved to see it. He liked a healthy debate every day of the week over blind submission. “We have a deadline of two weeks. I don’t think what you have planned is possible in such a short space of time.”

She slid to the edge of her chair. “I do. It wouldn’t take much to get a local stylist in, or hire some girls to run and buy everything I need. The rooms need a lift, paint, new sheets and some choice décor pieces. Nothing flash. It can be done cheaply and quickly.”

The light in her eyes was back and she was grabbing the clip board like she would squeeze the life out of it. He liked her drive and excitement, and he was starting to see what could be possible if they both worked theirs hearts out over the next two weeks.

“You seem very confident, Samara.”

“I am. I’ve built a business on my ability to multi task and see the big picture. I appreciate the time line that I have imposed, but I think we can accomplish it all in the time. Prettying up the hotel is the easy part, hiring and firing staff is always the hardest.”

“But you’re up for the job?”

“Absolutely.”

He regarded her as covertly as possible. She had guts, that was for sure. He was the one who had to fix this, but all directors needed an assistant and that was how he needed to see her. She wouldn’t thrive well under a tight leash. So he’d give her some rope. Hopefully she wouldn’t hang herself with it. “All right. I will give you a budget and a company credit card. Any large purchases or decisions you make must go through me, but for minor things, you may do as you feel is right. My parents have assured me you will help clean up this mess and I am very interested in seeing you try.”

She gave him a huge grin that hit him right in the chest, a long dead place where some happiness used to flutter. He stood up to stretch it out. He’d obviously overworked at the gym.

He pulled out his business card. “Here’s my personal cell number. I already have yours in my phone. I’ll be interviewing several contractors today to do some repair work to the hotel, and the local employment agency are sending over applicants for the chef, assistant manager, and bar staff positions. Can you handle the cleaners and younger clerical staff?”

He cocked an eyebrow at her and her mouth grew thin as she drew her clipboard to her chest. “Of course I can. I’ll get on the redecorating. Once the cleaners have thoroughly aired out the hotel, it’s time to give it a proper face lift.”

He didn’t want her enthusiasm to brighten him up. His long-standing depression was a comfort to cling to. But it was hard to completely extinguish the flames that licked at his heart. Samara had an aura, an energy to her, that he hadn’t experienced before. Not in all his years at school, business, or travel.

However, this hotel was still in deep trouble and they had to sink millions of dollars into it before it was anywhere near presentable again. The thought pulled him back down to where he should be.

“Better get to work then.”

He nodded in dismissal and she grabbed for his business card. “Thanks for this. It’ll make things much easier when I need you. See you later, Julian.”

He could have sworn there was a smirk on her lips as she twirled around and waltzed out the door. As soon as she was gone, he let the smile that had been cowering in a corner of his mind spread across his face. This woman was exactly what he needed. For his hotel and his bed.

She was bright and sparkly, full of energy, and intelligence too. After the work was done, he’d pull her into his bed and use that enthusiasm for something a bit more fun. Then he’d send her home and return to his parents with the hotel back on its feet. He’d show them that he’d been the right choice to run the company. He may have let his personal relationships dampen his focus once, but he wouldn’t let it happen again.

Julian stepped into the humid Hawaiian sun and headed for the back of the hotel where he’d been told Samara would be. He shook his head and let out a long sigh as he stepped up to the huge, industrial sized garbage area.

Where else would he expect to find his ludicrously expensive consultant, than up to her elbows in musty mattress’s, gag-able pillows, and soiled linen?

The cloud of stench wafted toward him even stronger than the heat that beat down on his head. He stood a few feet away from the staff and the bags of hotel accommodation they were entrenched in. Why wasn’t she inside organizing people?

“You haven’t answered your phone,” he yelled into the mattress pile.

Samara’s head popped up from behind a pile of stained pillows, her sun streaked hair plastered to her red, sweaty face. “Oh, sorry. I probably have it on silent.” She stood up properly and stretched her back, the sun accentuating the healthy glow of her skin. “We’ve cleaned out all twelve of the suites that are being renovated though.”

She gave him that characteristically happy smile that reminded him of the girls he knew when he’d been at university. Full of fun, before life grew too serious. It was un-nerving how she’d maintained that look despite her older years. What was she, twenty-nine, thirty?

He regarded the dozens of mattresses piled up near the industrial sized bins. “I can see that. But I needed you.”

“You needed me? Oh, I’m sorry. What for?”

“Staff have arrived to be interviewed and I’m busy with the contractors.” He probably could have handled the interviews, but after choosing a true vulture as his own replacement in his business two years ago, he found his confidence severely lacking.

“Oh great.” She turned to the three women and two men outside in the heat with her. “Keep bagging up the sheets and pillows. Someone from a local charity should be here within the hour to collect everything. Then go straight back to the suites and start vacuuming the floors. Again.”

They murmured their agreement, their breathing laboring from the hard work they were quite obviously not used to doing. “Thanks guys!” She gave them one of her sunny smiles and walked over to him, having changed from her casual skirt and tank into an outfit designed for cleaning.

Samara wiped her hands on her old T-shirt and sweat pants that had holes in them. If his mother could only see her expensive expert now.

“I’m ready, and cannot wait to get more cleaners assigned. Those rooms are absolutely filthy.” She swiped a strand of hair back from her face with her dirty hand and wiped a black mark into her forehead, running into her hairline.

“You’ve got a smudge on your face.”

“Oh, thanks. I can imagine I do.” She lifted her other hand and started wiping at her skin, making an even worse mess of herself.

“Here.” He pulled his white handkerchief out of his pocket and lifted one hand to tilt her face up. She stilled when he touched her chin, but didn’t move as he wiped at the mark near her hair line. She was hot beneath his finger-tips. Up close her skin seemed even more flawless than he’d first thought.

Awareness fluttered in his skin, tingling up his arms and curling inside his chest. Her breathing rate had increased and she wasn’t moving. Only the up and down fall of her plump breasts made him think that she was as affected by his presence as he was to hers.

Once he’d finished cleaning her beautiful face, he let their eyes meet. The heat flared. She could sense him too.

“Th…anks.”

This time, her smile was tiny, but the look in her eyes was what he wanted to see. That awareness of him as a man.

“Ok.” She blew out a breath, and took a step back from him. “Let’s go.”

She took another quick step away from him and he didn’t move.

“You’re going to speak to them like that?” he asked her.

She was dressed worse than a local cleaner, and she smelled a bit like one too. A strange combination of eucalyptus and antiseptic. It tickled his throat, and yet she still reminded him of an Amazon woman, about to take on the whole rainforest all by herself. Strong and confident.

“Of course. What do you think they’ll look like every day they work here?” She tilted her head and indicated they should go inside.

He followed behind, letting his eyes enjoy the pert bum and shake of her hips as she sashayed inside his hotel.

The air conditioning, which had blessedly been turned up since Samara complained to the bell boy last night, hit him in the face and he inhaled sharply. Samara didn’t miss a beat, bee lining for the front entrance where twenty people milled around, waiting for her. She clapped her hands and stood at the base of the long spiral stair case. Obviously, she intended to walk them through the floors she wanted cleaned.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this will be a group interview today. I’m going to show you the rooms we will be cleaning, renovating, and then maintaining their new standard in the years to come. I will also have five places for clerks and bell boys, so if anyone wants to apply for those positions, please hang around afterwards to speak to me about what that will entail. This hotel is about to undergo a massive face lift and you will be very proud to work here. So please, follow me and I’ll show you the first suite.”

She took off up the stairs and the group jumped to follow. Julian stood in the foyer and watched her go, marveling at the fact that despite the holey pants and ragged shirt, Samara had the power of presence to pull them all into the tour and interview. Not one person lagged behind. He turned away, hating the fact that his mother had been right. They had a long way to go, but if she continued at this pace for the whole two weeks, they’d have the hotel ready sooner than planned.

Samara fell face first onto her king-sized bed, the weight of a dozen bedframes piled on her spine. Right between her shoulder blades, prickling and cramping the muscles with painful spasms.

If she’d been smart, she would have waited a few days for extra help, but no, she’d wanted to prove to Julian that she could do everything she’d proposed in her time frame. Another, not so bright idea of hers. Two weeks only, to get this whole job done. She’d definitely let her ego talk her into that one.

She moaned into the mattress. A hot shower was needed before she went to sleep, but now that she had stopped—finally—she didn’t want to move.

Get up, or you won’t be able to do anything tomorrow.

Grunting and groaning, she managed to push both hands into the mattress and get herself vertical. Her back screamed and her feet pulsed, but she staggered to the shower, undressed, and stepped beneath the hot water.

“Ahhhh…” Heated pressure beat down onto her head and back, washing away the stink of the day. She liked to work hard, but she’d rarely needed to do so much physical lifting. Pride had pushed her to prove herself capable on every level, and she was paying for it now. And they were only two days in.

Hubris. Mum and dad always said it would be my downfall.

She took her own soap from her bag and washed away the black smudges from her skin. The decades old furniture that she’d carried and moved today had definitely left their mark.

I really need to source new shampoos and conditioners from the locals too. Something tasteful, but sweet smelling.

A shudder coursed down her spine as she scrubbed beneath her fingernails. Everything was so dirty. How could someone let this beautiful hotel fall to such a low standard?

Originally, she’d been quite disappointed that Julian decided to only update twelve of the suites. That was short lived. Thank goodness he hadn’t agreed with her plan. She’d wanted to update all ninety-six of the rooms which would have taken all of her time and the staff training wouldn’t have been done. Pride again.

She shivered dramatically this time. That would have required a power that she just didn’t possess. Not in the two weeks she had, anyway. The older woman that she’d hired, Marie, was a great cleaner, with a clear and logical mind. Before she left, Samara would train Marie up to be a head cleaner, or house keeper of sorts. The other rooms all needed to be cleaned as well, and someone had to do it after she left.

A wave of sadness washed over her as the thought hit her for the first time. She wouldn’t be here to see the job completed, which was most unusual for her. When she’d given Mrs. King her time line she’d only thought about her own life, her business needing a guiding hand, and her baby plans. She hadn’t thought about the fact that she wouldn’t see the hotel become the phoenix it had the potential to be. This old lady would rise from the ashes, more beautiful than before.

She’d definitely tell Marie tomorrow to take two of the younger cleaners and start on the rest of the rooms. If nothing else, they needed to be aired, dusted, cleaned, and changed for new linens. If all went well, this hotel would soon be crawling with people again.

A sense of calm filled her as her path and plan lay before her like a set of intricately drawn architectural designs. She needed to stay focused on what she could do, not what she couldn’t. And there was so much she could achieve still.

She’d handed over the reins of her business to her two assistants a month ago, readying herself for her year ahead. A year in which she was giving herself the best opportunity to fall in love with the man of her dreams. And no matter what happened, she was going to have her baby.

One goal was optional, the other, a lifelong dream that was going to be realized with the help of her obstetrician and modern medicine.

She turned off the shower, dried her tired body, and readied for bed. There were two messages from Julian on her phone. Both of them mentioned a meeting at 7 am for breakfast.

Lucky I’m a morning person.

She set her alarm for sunrise and climbed into her clean bed. Her room still smelled of eucalyptus to disguise the scent of hospital grade cleaning liquid, but the sheets were brand new and the room had been dusted and vacuumed to within an inch of its life.

Thanks to her team of hard working cleaners, her room was unrecognizable to what it had been yesterday.

Her eyes drifted shut as she curled up on her side in bed.

Julian… Damn. That man is stunning.

Her eyes popped open again as heat tendrils wiggled through her body.

Go to sleep. You neeeed to sleep!

She forced her eyes shut once again and her mind brightened with images of blue eyes and smoldering hot looks. Yesterday she’d been sure he was a classic rich guy who’d walk all over her to get what he needed. No heart. No soul. But she hadn’t cared. She was willing to work hard to get her commission and his regard of her didn’t mean anything.

Sure, he was super gorgeous and made her want to lie on the floor and beg him to take her, but she could work past that. Was sure she could.

But then today, he’d touched her. It had been hotter than she’d anticipated. No employer-regard in his gaze, no big brother aura when he took out his white handkerchief and cleaned her face.

She must have looked an utter mess, but for that moment when he’d stepped close enough to kiss her, the busy world faded away. Her belly had tightened and pulsed with an almost painful arousal.

She buried her head further into her pillow and tried to clear her mind. Sleeping with the boss was definitely not her style, especially when she was cleansing her body for the most important life step she’d ever made.

Enough. Go to sleep.

With clear visions of her beautiful baby inside her mind, she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 3

Julian tapped his pen against his desk, his eyes scanning the calendar of events for the hotel over the next few months.

Two more conferences booked and we’ll be back on our feet within the quarter.

“Julian, the painters are here. Do you have time to do a tour of the grounds and look at the other facilities while the painters work? I’ve got a spare minute or five.”

Samara’s bright voice presented a welcome interruption to his already long day. He dragged his gaze up from his computer screen and blinked his tired eyes. “Yes. Let’s go.” He could use some fresh air, and after a frosty phone call from his father, a dose of Samara’s particular rays of sunshine might be beneficial.

Why his dad chose to stick the boot in every chance he got, only God knew. Julian had been through the very worst year of his life, and yet he received nothing but disdain from both of his parents. It made him wonder sometimes why he tried so hard to please them.

Pushing himself to his feet, he followed Samara’s gorgeous bum out the sliding doors that led into the garden. His groin tightened just watching her sashay through his hotel. The allure she possessed confused him, yet excited him to his very core. She was so different to anyone he’d ever met.

The Hawaiian heat hit him like an oven door being opened up in his face.

Woah.

Samara fanned her cheeks with her dainty hands. “Wow… I’m still not quite used to that heat.”

He didn’t want to appear weak, but nodded in agreement as he took a careful breath of low oxygen air. He travelled a lot, but the humidity here was stifling, and so thick you could practically eat it. “Any areas you specifically want to look at?”

“The pool. The bar area there is a key feature at drawing people to the hotel, so, if you’re going to spend any money on the outside areas, that would be best, and…replacing the front door sensors of course.”

He chuckled, then smothered it. He’d almost broken his nose trying to walk through that door. “Yes, agreed.”

They walked toward the pebbled path, her hand brushing his as they moved together.

“Oh, sorry.” She jumped away and he grinned, his own hand tingling from the contact. His brain flashed up images of her naked beneath him in bed. Her mouth open in a gasp as he tantalized that perfect skin of hers.

They wove through the palm trees together, the fresh air lifting his spirits despite the heat, as he gave his back a break from the office chair.

Samara turned toward him with a professional smile in place on her lush lips. “I’ve got three gardeners coming tomorrow to work on the foliage. Trim the trees, get rid of the weeds. Just basic maintenance, no new planting.” She looked up at him through her thick dark eye-lashes.

This time he let the happy chuckle rumble from his throat. It was such a good feeling to be this calm. His shoulders were relaxed, his mind clear. Six months of bedding anyone he could find as he travelled throughout Greece, Italy, and Spain, hadn’t made him feel this free. He hadn’t known at the time that his family’s empire was on its knees. No one had, until it was almost too late.

“Good idea. And put them on a weekly maintenance schedule too, once the pruning has been done.”

She’d been trying to save money, which he appreciated. She was obviously good at her job, but he may have been too harsh in that regard. It had been an initial test that she had passed with flying colors. But now that he knew that she wouldn’t bankrupt his family in the days she was here, he’d give her more leeway.

There was also no point putting in all this effort if it was going to fall apart the moment she left.

Samara gave him a big smile and a quick salute. “Will do, boss.”

He liked the playful tone in her voice. As long as she toed the line and he was able to maintain face with his parents, he’d enjoy watching her have fun while she did her job. It was great to see. Someone who loved their work as much as he did.

They’d reached the tired old outside pool and he stopped to survey the damage. The water was at least clear, but the surrounds needed a lot of maintenance. A twist in his gut made him swallow hard. Another reminder of how bad things had become when he’d looked the wrong way. He still couldn’t believe it happened. That the one person he’d trusted to oversee his business had snaked into their accounts, diverted funds, and left the hotels high and dry for almost a year.

One of the few guests that were booked into the hotel caught his eye and he grimaced as his chest squeezed tight and hot anger poured through him like lava down the local volcanoes. The last thing he wanted to see was some loved up, deluded couple on their honeymoon.

He remembered it too well. His own quick marriage. His hot, sexy honeymoon, that had come to an end too quickly. The happiness he’d felt then now sat in his memory like a lump of coal at Christmas time. She’d turned on him so fast when she realized she wouldn’t get what she wanted. Her plan had always been to get pregnant, take half his money, then walk away.

He shuddered at the memory of her parting words to him. Putting up with you isn’t worth it unless I get a hotel at the end. Their subsequent divorce was swift and relatively pain free for him. But the scars still ran too deep to deal with a disgusting public display of affection.

There was a young couple ahead of them and Samara stopped to rest under the shade of a palm tree, watching them as they canoodled by the pool. Warmth filtered through her heart, making a happy sigh escape her lips. That would be her soon, hopefully. And even if it wasn’t in her immediate future, she’d soon have her own baby to love and adore. Happiness came in all forms.

Her boss turned to snap at her, as he often did. “Let’s move on.”

She suppressed the need to roll her eyes at his tone. She had to assume his bark was worse than his bite, because despite his earlier threats, he’d been quite easy to work with so far.

She lifted one eyebrow at Julian in question. His cheeks were flushed pink due to the heat. Why the man still wore his business suits on days like today, she had no idea. Didn’t he own a pair of shorts and a tank? Visions of his tight ass and broad shoulders made heat swim through her belly and she was suddenly thankful for his suits. She’d maintained a professional distance so far, but she suffered a weakness for bulging biceps that may just get in the way if she got to see him up close and personal.

“Move on? Why? Aren’t we going to talk about the pool’s maintenance? What’s wrong?”

He lifted his chin high in the air. “We’ll come back later. It’s occupied.”

He turned and she watched his shoulders stiffen, his mouth tugging down on one side.

Hmm…there’s a story there.

“Because of the couple? Don’t worry about them. The pool and bar area are a great asset and should be optimized.” And it was. A huge, opulent open space that was perfect for couples.

He began walking once again and she glanced back at the couple. They wouldn’t disturb them, surely. When she twisted back to Julian, he was half way around the pool already.

Shit.

Samara took off, her leg muscles stretching tight as she sprinted after him. She didn’t catch up to him until he stopped at the pool bar, staring up at the roof.

“The tiles need replacing.”

She laughed, sweeping a hand out in a broad gesture. “Everything needs replacing. The pool needs to be drained and re-tiled, the sun lounges need to be replaced, the concrete needs painting. The bar needs to be knocked down and completely re-built.”

He turned and glared at her, his nostrils flaring and his jaw tight.

She frowned. “What’s your problem? I’m just telling you the truth.”

He took a long, obviously measured breath. “Tell me what you’re going to do about it then.”

Her first response was to snark back at him, but she focused on the question instead. This was what they were paying her to do. Julian may think he knew the answer to everything and he could do this all on his own, but she knew he was better off with her help. Though, by the look on his face, this wasn’t the time to tell him that.

“We need this space to be where all the loved up couples and honeymooners will come to enjoy the sun and spend lots of money on alcohol.” He grunted and she rolled her eyes. “You have a problem with loved up couples on holidays? Because you know they are your main market.”

“Of course I know they are. That’s not the point.”

“Did those words taste terrible, Julian? Because you look like you need a mouth freshener after that.”

He waited a moment and continued to glare, those bright blue eyes throwing shards of ice at her. Something about those honeymooners had obviously hit a nerve on him.

She had to change the subject because she was getting nowhere. “When do the contractors start work on the outside of the hotel?”

“I have people coming tomorrow.”

“That’s great.”

He nodded his head, pivoted on his heel and strode away.

Far out. What was that?

Part of her, the nosey part that saw him like a brilliant puzzle waiting to be solved, was desperate to find out what was going on inside his head. The other half, the rational part that knew she was a contractor and he was her client, therefore off limits, said it was none of her business.

She heard him barking orders inside at the staff and flinched. That, unfortunately she couldn’t ignore. She’d spent every minute of her waking day on hiring and training the new staff. The last thing she needed was him pulling unstable threads that would cause the whole thing to unravel. Which meant she was going into his office once again to bait the bear.

Taking a deep breath of hot Hawaiian humidity, she strode back into the air-conditioned hotel. She lifted her hand to wipe her damp forehead. Lucky she wasn’t paying for the water bill here, she was up to three showers a day at the moment.

The new concierge, Trey, stood by the front desk, his jaw tight and his eyes down.

“Trey. You’re doing a wonderful job. I’m going to have a meeting with Mr. King so if any of the staff need me, I’ll be in his office.”

Trey nodded and lifted his head, his mouth relaxing with her praise. “Yes, Miss Jenkins. The painters said they’d be finished by three. Do you need anything else done today?”

“The restaurant staff have to move all the furniture out to make way for the cleaning and painting in there. If you’re not busy, you could help them later.”

Trey nodded once, the determined look on his face making her smile. He was perfect for the job. He had lots of experience in the industry, he was polite, hard-working, and team focused.

She swiveled on the newly polished marble floor and headed for Julian’s office, knocking once before sweeping inside again. “Can we make a few notes about the pool area and then I’ll get out of your hair, and onto the hotel’s external grounds upgrade.”

He grunted at her and shuffled papers around his busy desk. “Do whatever you want, Samara.”

If she’d been a cartoon character, her jaw would have dropped to the floor and he tongue would have rolled out three feet. “Why thank you. I wasn’t sure if you would trust me like that.”

Steely blue flashed as his eyes met hers. Liquid heat poured through her veins. God, he was breath taking when he was mad. Why did she want to walk around his desk and wrap her arms around his neck and kiss all of his troubles away?

“Samara, you’re great at your job, hard-working, personable, and can command a room while wearing cleaning rags. You’re welcome to do whatever you want to the gardens and the outdoor areas. I’ll keep focusing on getting people back into the hotel.”

She clapped her hands. Brilliant. “Great. I’ll get back to it. The new linens are arriving soon and I need to check them all…”

Her foot swiveled towards the door as her brain ran through the huge check list she had in her head. But something stayed her feet, stopped her from moving toward the outside world where a hundred jobs lay waiting for her. She twisted back so she could see him better. Julian now sat in front of his computer, jaw set and tight as he tapped away.

“What happened just then? Why did you respond so badly to that young couple by the pool?”

A muscle clenched and throbbed in his jaw. “That’s teetering into personal, Samara, and we said we wouldn’t do that.”

“As long as it doesn’t stop you from doing your job properly.”

“It won’t.”

She waited. She wanted to know. Had he loved a woman once? Had she broken his heart? It was hard to imagine a man as strong, arrogant, and gorgeous as Julian King had ever been hurt.

He didn’t speak and she finally took a deep breath, letting out a long sigh as she envisioned her future. She believed in the power of positive thinking and the laws of attraction. She’d built her life and business on it. On the wall of her bedroom she had her personal vision board. In her two bedroom, east end apartment that she’d paid for with profits from the company she’d built from nothing. Her focus had shifted and she was now calling on the Universe for her ideal man, her optimal health, and of course, a healthy baby.

She let her heart have its way when she spoke, irrespective of what would follow. “I wish I was in love like that couple were. I think it’s a beautiful thing.”

The disgusted noise that came from Julian surprised her, and he threw her one line she’d never forget. “Love’s a fantasy. Never wish for that.”

Julian wore his swimming trunks and a tank down to the pool level. It was time to work out some of the tension from another restless night, and the gym was first on his list. A swim after to cool down.

As he stepped out into the foyer he glanced around the room, expecting to see Samara buzzing around. When he didn’t see her he moved over to the front desk.

“Do you know where Miss Jenkins is?” he asked one of the new clerks with pimples on his chin and a modern hair cut that hung to his shoulders. The boy looked far too young to be working at the hotel, but Samara assured him that the kid was a genius at computers. Not only was he updating the software, he was redesigning the website too.

“Yes, sir, she’s in the gym.”

Perfect.

He nodded and walked toward the gym and internal pool—another area that needed addressing. He opened the door and froze with his hand still plastered to the glass. The room was unrecognizable from when he’d used it only yesterday.

The mirrored walls shone brightly, not a smudge in sight on their huge reflective surfaces. He’d barely been able to see himself in them yesterday. The weights were stacked, the equipment cleverly arranged for ease of use. It looked twice as big, and far more impressive.

Another job well done.

He twisted around and couldn’t see her anywhere in the gym. “Samara?”

“I’m in the pool.”

Images of white bikinis and her gorgeous round bum flashed through his mind and he shook his head, dispelling the pictures. It had been a month since his last woman which was obviously far too long. His need for Samara was growing with each day he worked alongside her.

He cleared his throat and moved into the heated pool area. It was like stepping into a warm, dark cave. The lights were dim, the walls a natural dark stone. He searched around the room and finally found her, standing on the first step in the pool, her hourglass figure clad in a simple black one piece that did nothing to hide the incredible curves she possessed.

His mouth ran dry and his blood pulsed south as his desire grew with each passing second. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d had such an immediate, intense attraction to a woman.

For the past year, he’d gone through women like an alcoholic goes through wine. He hadn’t been too picky, as long as they offered the affection and moment’s pleasure he’d needed since his wife’s betrayal and abandonment.

Samara was something different completely. His hands ached to hold the curves of her body, his lips parted in anticipation of finally tasting her mouth. Perhaps it was because he hadn’t had her yet? He called out to her, “What are you doing in here?”

She stepped out of the pool and wrapped the hotel’s white towel around her hips. When she walked over to him, her full breasts bounced softly with each step she took.

“I’m trying out the facilities. It’s important to see the hotel from a guest’s perspective, so I re-arranged the gym to make it easier to use, had the staff clean it from top to bottom, and I’m now assessing the pool. The water temperatures a bit hot from what I can tell, but I haven’t been in yet. The lighting could be better, but they’re easy fixes.” She cocked her head to the side and twirled her ponytail with her fingers. “What’s happening with you?”

His tank clung to the sweat on his chest and his heart began to pound a heavier rhythm in his chest. “I’m taking a break and thought a swim might be good. Mind if I join you in the assessment?”

He reached over his head and grabbed the white tank, pulling it off quickly. Samara’s eyes dropped to his chest, her mouth open. Julian puffed out his chest and threw his towel onto a nearby bench as he shuffled out of his trainers.

“Ah… I suppose not.”

“Great. I have a few questions about the painting too.”

“Ah…” Samara stammered, her eyes dropping down his body, and then away, her discomfort obvious in the glow of her cheeks. He knew she was as attracted to him as he was to her. All the awareness and signs so far indicated it, but she hadn’t made a move, and he wanted to know why.

He’d accepted her help and guidance in the rebuilding of his hotel and now that he knew they had to spend what was left of the two weeks together, why not make it more of a pleasurable working environment?

“Let’s go.” He reached out for her hand, enjoying the heat and sensations moving up his arm in reaction to her touch. The darkness of the room worked perfectly. Hot and intimate.

Samara was the perfect size for him, he realized as she moved close. She came up to his chin and he would be able to tuck her into his lap and keep her beneath him all night.

A growl rumbled from his throat at the thought and she pulled away, stepping down into the water again with hasty movements. “You ok?”

He nodded as most of her body disappeared beneath the water. He surveyed the pool, which looked like it had been rendered with sand. He gestured to the water as he took one step into the pool, which had five descending steps at the shallow end. Bath temperature heat swirled around his calves.

“What’s with the sand? And you’re right. It is too hot.” Something he would have surely missed if he hadn’t taken her advice and used the hotel as any normal guest would.

He continued to wade in, Samara’s eyes on him as they surfed through the water to the deep end, the steam from the water rising around them. Cloaking them, embracing them.

“This is an unusual place to hold a meeting.” Samara’s voice trembled a little as they continued to move in the hot water. Their bodies reminded him of two magnets of opposing forces. Untouching and yet, mirroring each other’s movements.

Samara bit her lip and her eyes skittered away. She was nervous and he liked that. He wanted her to be so aware of what was between them that she wanted to run. She’d conducted herself far too professionally so far, he needed her to act on the connection between them.

“It is. Give me an update on your side of things.”

He swam closer, waving his arms under the water and sending ripples her way. She shivered, despite the heat, and he crept closer, wanting those legs wrapped around him.

“Ah… I’m quite happy with the progress so far. I hired eleven new cleaners, full time. They’ve stripped and cleaned all the suites we’re renovating now and I’ve put them to work on the rest of the hotel. Even if we aren’t re-vamping everything, they all need thorough cleaning. Those bathrooms are disgusting.”

“Well done.” She’d followed his instructions and stayed within the guidelines of what they’d discussed.

“I’ve also hired five new bell boys, restaurant staff and a proper concierge. They need some more training, but I’ll make sure that’s all done before I leave. The welcome to this hotel when I arrived was well below par and I feel that with that small improvement, it will make a massive difference.”

She was swimming away from him now, backward, her voice getting stronger as she focused on her work.

“Have you organized an employee manual for them?”

She swallowed as she moved further away, her back finally hitting the edge of the pool and her eyes going wide. “Ah… No, I’ve done some basic training with them, but I will be doing an official launch of the new employee work book next week.”

Good. He hated those sorts of things. “Great.”

“The rooms have been freshly painted, as has the restaurant…and ah…”

He moved closer until they were inches apart and stared into her eyes, placing both hands either side of her shoulders, the sandy concrete beneath his palms.

“Julian…um, what are you doing?” Her voice trembled as she spoke and her pupils were so dilated he could barely see the green colored iris.

“I’m testing out a theory I have.” He moved the lower part of his body closer, pressing his pelvis against her belly while still maintaining some distance.

Samara licked her lips, her pink tongue darting out as her hands floated up to press against his chest. “What theory, Julian?”

Whether this was lunacy or not, he didn’t know. And in this moment, he didn’t care. As a contractor, Samara was free to fraternize with whomever she chose, as was he.

“Whether you want me as much as I want you.”

His heart was pounding in his chest like a drum. Her closeness affected him like an aphrodisiac, all by itself. He needed to know if she tasted as sweet as she looked. If her spirit in the bedroom matched the spirit she had for her work.

When the hands she had against his chest didn’t move to push him away, instead, they tightened in his chest hair, curling and holding tight, he lowered his mouth, pausing as their lips were a hair apart. Her breath blew hot and fast against his mouth.

“That’s a very interesting theory.”

Her eyes opened even wider and she lifted her chin, pressing her lips against his and uttering the softest of moans. As though, she too, had been waiting for this moment.

He groaned and grabbed her lush arse with his hands, the same curvy bottom he’d been fantasizing over for days. He lifted her in the warm water, her legs drifting up in the weight less pool and wrapping around his waist.

Samara’s arms went around his neck as she opened her mouth to him. He speared her lips apart with his tongue, a shudder passing through his body as her taste spread through his senses. Honey and sex. Perfect.

Her gasp sounded as he pushed back against her and she threw back her head. The long expanse on her neck was as tempting as anything he’d ever seen. He pressed his lips to her, tasting the sweetness of her skin and feeling the erratic bounce of her pulse against his lips.

“Julian…” Her moan was so sensual his whole body vibrated. So hot, so beautiful.

Her whole body moved against him and as he slid his fingers between them, his heart pounded harder. He pushed aside her bathing suit and found her swollen clit nestled in the hidden folds between her legs.

She groaned and dug her nails into his shoulders, pressing against him as though she were starving for his touch. How long had it been for her?

Too long, obviously.

He found her lips again, kissing her deeply as he slid his long middle finger into her core. Her body slick and warm, gripping him like a greedy mouth.

“Ah… Julian.” Samara panted against his mouth, her hips thrusting against his hand.

His cock throbbed inside his shorts, his belly tight and his breath coming in pants as sweat beaded his forehead. He wanted to be inside her now. He withdrew his fingers and lifted her with one hand as he pushed down his shorts with the other. His length bounced up against her open thighs and she lifted herself to gaze into his eyes. Her look pleading, desperate.

This wasn’t how he’d wanted it to happen. He’d planned hours of foreplay, chocolate mousse, and music loud enough to mask her orgasms.

“Please hurry.” Samara’s voice broke through the feelings of inadequacy and guilt.

“You want this?” he asked, grabbing a hold of her tiny waist and pulling down on his body until the head of his shaft pressed against her soft, hot entrance.

She bit her lip again and he waited, his balls pulsing with need.

“I want you to say it.”

He wasn’t budging until she begged for it. He needed them both to know later that this was totally consensual.

“Yes. Please.”

He groaned and took her lips in a deep kiss, pulling her down, hard. An explosion of sensation ricocheted through his gut, rippling out into the very far reaches of his soul.

She felt like home.

He shook his head and tried to throw away such a ridiculous notion, instead focusing on the physical sensations wrapping around him.

Samara was a writhing mass of femininity, need, and desire. Every noise she made sounded like bliss to his ears and echoed in the room around them. She bit into his shoulder, her hands holding him as tight as possible as she gasped and moaned in his ear.

He gripped her hips, wishing she was totally naked and swearing to himself that he’d take his time next time. He thrust against her, and used his hands to push her up and then pulled her down to impale her again. Then again and again until her channel squeezed him as tightly as a glove and he could barely hold on to his own control.

The heat built in his body, tingles of his impending orgasms rippling along his spine.

“Julian! I’m…going to…” Samara’s body gripped him as her spine arched and he cried out as she called on his orgasm. It ripped through his core with an intensity that made lights explode inside his head.

Samara screamed as he poured himself into her pulsating body.

Too late, he realized his mistake and pulled out, holding tight to him the woman who’d blown apart his brain and body.

Samara clung to him like she’d never let him go, her lips finding his in a kiss so sweet it made parts of his heart he’d believed dead, ache with wanting.

He righted their swimming suits and carried her in his arms to the edge of the pool. The world shifting on its axis like it never had before.

Chapter 4

Her belly was still convulsing with unending orgasmic shudders. When she’d first come, it had been mind-blowingly intense. And then Julian had come inside her and her body shattered into singing raptures. Her first simultaneous orgasm, and it had been utterly incredible. The tingles still vibrating along every nerve fiber in her body.

“That was just incredible.”

Julian nodded at her and deposited her onto the concrete steps. He stepped back and a cold wave washed over her. “Is there something wrong?”

He frowned, the lines between his eyes becoming marked. “I didn’t use any protection.”

She shrugged the worry away. “I’ve been on the pill since I was sixteen. I have severe endometriosis and it’s the only thing that keeps the pain manageable.”

His shoulders seemed to drop about a foot. “Oh, good. But either way, we should be more careful next time.”

“Next time?” Her heart lifted, as did his lips.

“I don’t see why we can’t enjoy the time we have together. Working during the day, and…”

“Working out our stress through the night?”

He grinned now, the expression taking years off his somber face. “Sounds like a plan to me.”

She wrapped her arms around her body, chilled despite the heat of the water. “I think I need to get out and get dry.” A warm bed and a nap was actually what she wanted. That orgasm had totally wiped her energy.

“Let’s get out then.”

He led her from the water, directing her towards the showers she’d been in when he’d arrived.

He turned the hot water on, then pulled her under the spray with him. The touch of his skin on hers was heaven, and she shivered.

“You’re cold. Stay here while I get dry.”

He stripped off his underwear quickly and grabbed a nearby towel. Samara gaped at his naked body. He wasn’t just muscled and well proportioned. His arse was so rounded and strong it could have been carved out of marble.

Her eyes strayed to his privates, a blush flooding her face as she realized that part of him had just been deep inside of her. Once a strong pillar to penetrate her, it now lay relaxed and harmless.

Julian was soon dressed again in his suit pants and shirt. A civilized outfit for a not so civilized man.

Wow. What incredible passion they’d shared. She’d never experienced anything like it. Even with men she’d dated for years and shared intimacy with over and over again, had never reached the level of connection she’d felt with Julian. And it had only been their first time. She couldn’t imagine how she’d feel in another week or two.

“Here you go.” Julian brought over a fluffy, dry towel for her and she struggled to pull herself back into work mode.

“I don’t want to go back to work now. You’ve made me all blissy and sleepy.” She smiled up at him as she dried her body and pulled her dress back on over her swim suit. She’d have to go get changed.

Julian glanced at his watch. “Well, it is five o’clock. You could probably fit in a sleep before dinner with me at seven.”

She’d worked her butt off all day, and if the night held what she thought it would, she needed a rest. “Don’t go giving me an easy go now, Julian.” She wobbled sideways, giggling at her own silliness.

He gripped her elbow and helped her move toward the door. “Honestly Samara, you’ve worked like a Trojan since you got here. Have a break, and if it makes you feel any better, dinner can be a work meeting and you can redecorate the restaurant while we’re there if you like.”

She stared up into his blue eyes, the strange vulnerability she saw there making her heart skip a beat. She opened her mouth to ask him if he was ok, then shut it again. If he was feeling half the euphoria she was, he could be as odd as he liked.

“All right. I’ll go have a quick rest and get changed for dinner. Meet you back in the restaurant at seven, okay?”

He nodded and stepped away from her as they moved back into the foyer. Her legs wobbled as she walked away from him. She reached out, blindly pressing the elevator button and humming to herself.

She’d never been stupid enough to do this before. Sleep with her boss, a colleague, no-one close to her professional life. She’d worked alone for so long, and had been so strict with who she’d dated. Never before had she stepped over such a big line.

The elevator dinged open and she noted with relief that the carriage arrived with no grinding or squeaking. The mechanic they’d brought out yesterday did a great job servicing the old girl.

Her wobbly legs managed to get her onto the elevator and she twisted around, clinging to the gold hand rail for help. Her eyes clashed with sky blue moments before the doors dinged shut.

A smile sung in her heart. A giggle of laughter caught in her throat. She should feel guilty, stupid, something. But there was nothing she could conjure up that would compete with the feelings of satisfaction humming through her veins.

She was a contractor. He was on the board of directors who had hired her to complete a job. Their relationship wouldn’t affect how hard she worked. Quite the opposite. Julian was right. There was absolutely no reason they couldn’t enjoy each other for the time they had together.

Two hours later she was rushing to get dressed after over sleeping. She had passed out the moment her head hit her pillow, and she’d barely surface to the alarm she’d luckily remembered to put on.

She brushed out her mane of thick hair and tied it up in a quick bun. Lateness was a pet hate of hers. Some perfume and moisturizer barely managed to dry before she threw on the only semi-formal dress she’d brought with her. A red, clingy, knee length outfit that dipped low in the front to reveal her abundant cleavage.

Perfect for the start to, hopefully, a great night.

Five minutes later she was walking back into the same restaurant that sat empty only days before. Tonight there were five new staff members, and a maitre’d to take her to her table.

She gave Fabrizio a huge smile as she drew closer. He was one of several staff members she’d hired and trained in the past few days.

“Good evening, Miss Jenkins. This way.” He lifted his chin in a posh way that made her laugh and showed her to a table at the back of the restaurant where Julian sat with a glass of red wine, waiting for her.

Fabrizio pulled out her chair for her and she sat. “Well done, Fabrizio.”

He bowed for her. “Can I get you a drink, madam?”

“Water please.”

He walked away and she turned to her date. “I’m so sorry I’m late. I overslept.”

“Great orgasms will do that to you.”

“Shhh!” She looked around to make sure no one had heard him while flames licked at her neck and face. “Does that mean that yours wasn’t any good? Because you don’t look like you’ve had a nap.”

When he didn’t answer straight away, her belly dropped. Was that the problem? The sex that had been so amazing for her, had not been so for him.

He leaned in closer, placing his glass down onto the table. “If I’d lay down after that, I would have slept for a week. I didn’t trust myself.”

Relief flowed over her like a cooling rain. “Oh, good.” She picked up the menus and gave them a good look over. “What do you think of the new design? They’re only mock ups. I wanted your opinion before I went and launched an updated look. But the old one needed a desperate upgrade.” She’d had a local designer put together a new logo for the restaurant and menus. “The new head chef is starting tonight and I’ve asked him to make us all the specials if that’s all right?”

She looked up at him, but his eyes were far from interested in what she said. They were downright lust full.

“It looks great.”

She wanted to stamp her foot, but instead playfully glared at him. “You didn’t even look at it.”

He arched an eyebrow at her. “Au contrare. I’ve been here for over half an hour, meeting the chef who is by far the most enthusiastic person I have met since arriving here, and studying your new menus. I like the logo, although a slightly less confusing font might be better.”

“I agree.”

She grinned and swallowed the hysterical noise rising up from her throat. He liked what she’d done!

Stop over reacting. Since when is a client’s approval so important to you?

“I like the way the tables have been positioned too. Less cluttered.”

She glanced around at the new table cloths, cleaned walls, and freshly steam cleaned carpets. “Yes, it’s all come together beautifully. But I did have a great building to work with.”

Their entrées had arrived….

“I’ve given the chef some leeway and have asked him to prepare some meals that he thinks will work. I’ll give him three days and then I’ll readjust everything to suit.”

“Sounds like a good idea. Give him a little rope and hope he doesn’t hang himself.”

She knew that old saying from her father and it was a strange comfort hearing it so far away from home. A smile spread across her face as the warmth around her heart turned her into a puddle.

“Is that what you did with me, Julian? Because I must admit you’ve been a lot easier to work with than I first thought.”

He took a drink of his red wine and picked up his fork. “I wasn’t impressed that my parents hired you without consulting me, but you’ve been a real asset to the company and it was stupid of me to let my pride get in the way of getting my hotel back on its feet.”

Her hand trembled as she reached for her water. Wow. She’d never expected him to be so honest about his own misgivings. “I don’t know what to say.”

He chuckled, a real laugh that made a grin stretch across her own lips. His face truly transformed when he was happy, and it made her want to please him all the more. Which was silly, and strange for her. Those butterflies that made her feel like a teenager on her first date.

“Well, that’s a first for you. I don’t know who you hired but this is delicious.”

Samara picked up her own fork and sampled the prawn risotto. The perfect balance of cream, salt, and parmesan spread across her tongue. The texture, also divine. “Hmmm… I agree. I poached him from a restaurant on the other side of the island. One of the cleaners had said that the chef wanted work closer to home, so I made a few phone calls, and we have a head chef worthy of the title.”

They finished their entrees and the mains were served. Another beautiful combination of flavors and textures.

“Well, I can’t find fault with his skill or his choice of meals yet.”

Julian was eating his steak so fast he looked like he barely had time to breathe. But after a final forkful of greens and scalloped potatoes, he moaned and dropped his knife and fork.

“I think I worked up a bit of an appetite today.”

Despite her best efforts to put some mental distance between them, his words made her whole body squirm in her chair. Their afternoon had her achy, hungry for more of the passion she’d found in Julian’s arms.

“You must have.”

The plates were taken away and Samara poured some more water for her suddenly dry mouth.

“I have a proposition for you,” Julian said, his words laced with a honeyed tone that made her belly twist and tighten. She pressed her thighs together and crossed her legs to dull the ache that throbbed at her center.

She took another sip of her water, savoring the anticipation building in her body. “It sounds like it’s going to be an improper proposition.”

He chuckled again, but this time his eyes grew darker. “It may be. We have nine days left until you fly back to New York. I propose that during the days we work alongside each other just as we have been, and at night we dine together and go to bed, enjoying each other however we see fit.”

Their desserts arrived and Samara picked up her fork, slicing a thick forkful of baked cheesecake, and scooping it through the blue berry sauce at the side. “A work holiday fling, so to speak?” Her traitorous body jumped at the idea but her chest tightened. Flings were not her style, and Julian was far too exceptional a man for her fragile heart to get close to.

“Yes. Precisely. I don’t do long term relationships, Samara. I should warn you now.”

She swallowed hard and tried not to show how his words chilled her. When had she ever entered a relationship with the end firmly in sight?

Never.

“Tell me why…and don’t cite our original agreement not to get personal. I think the pool today crossed us over into the forbidden zone.”

Julian leaned back in his chair and picked up the shortbread on his plate, biting into the crumbly cookie and chewing slowly.

Samara took another taste of her cheesecake, the smooth subtlety of the lemon zest utter perfection. This chef was worth every cent they would be paying him.

“Okay, I’ll answer a few of your questions, if you answer mine.”

“That’s a fair deal.” And not one she would have expected from him.

Julian looked toward where the staff were talking, shining glasses and silver cutlery. Just as they should be. When he glanced back, the teasing in his gaze was gone, replaced by a bleakness that rippled out on to his handsome face.

“I don’t enter into long term relationships anymore, because I have just survived a short marriage and divorce.”

Her breath exhaled in a painful gush. That was not what she’d been expecting. A player that didn’t want to be tied down? Sure. But not someone who’d loved and lost. Her eyes shifted as though seeing him differently. “Oh, that must have been painful.”

He nodded tightly, once. “The whole bloody thing was painful. My wife…”—he practically spat the word out—“played the dutiful role right up until the day we said I do, then she turned into an absolute hell cat. I couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

Every fiber in Samara’s body wanted to tell him that not all women were like that, that those few bitches were the extreme minority. She couldn’t deny that they did exist; she’d worked for several. But she kept her mouth shut. There was only one way to prove to a man who’d been bitten that not all women were the same, and that was lots of time and love. Two things she didn’t have to give him.

“Okay, thanks for being honest. Now you ask your question, Julian.”

His face calmed. “Tell me why you only allowed my company to hire you for a fortnight. We would have paid for you to stay for three months. More.”

She shrugged. “The answer is simple really. I’d planned to have this whole year off and had saved the money to do so. But my parents rang up a few weeks ago to say the bank was foreclosing on their house and they needed money. I gave them what they needed, but it left me short for my goals for this year. So, I’m here, filling up the bank balance again.”

He blinked. “I’m sorry to hear that, but it doesn’t answer the real question. Why only two weeks? If you need money, why not work more? Stay longer.”

She shook her head hard. She hadn’t worked herself to death for the past decade to worry about money now. “I have money. I own my two-bedroom apartment and still have my business. I just didn’t want to struggle if things didn’t go to plan, and your mother’s phone call felt like the hand of fate handing me a boon. But when it comes down to it, I need to take this year off for my health.”

He swallowed strangely, a downward edge pulling at his lips. “Are you unwell?”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing serious. Look, I don’t want to give you too many details, but I’ve worked hard for a long time. I’ve sacrificed family time, friendships, and my health to a certain degree to get ahead. But my priorities have shifted and my endometriosis has given me a time line I’m finally listening to.”

“You’re still being very vague.”

She huffed out a laugh, her vision board swimming into view in her mind. Time to be completely honest, and although she knew that he was about to freak out and possibly run away, she owed him the truth. He’d given it to her.

“Julian, do you really want to know about my plans for babies, marriage, and my very unhealthy uterus?”

He shuddered, literally shuddered, like a leaf in a strong breeze. She laughed at him.

Curiosity killed the cat.

“See. Told you.”

His spine had straightened until he was sitting up like a soldier. “You’re right. I don’t want to know.”

She licked the metal prongs of the dessert fork. “Good. So, let’s just enjoy the next nine days and then we can go our own separate ways.”

And before she’d consciously made up her mind she was hearing herself agree to his proposal. She may not be the type to sleep around, but if this was the last chance she had to feel a man’s arms around her before she began the long and painful process of IVF, then she would enjoy it.

“Sounds good to me.” He grinned at her and her belly flipped, tugging at her in that special way.

They finished their three-course meal and stood up. “I think that chef is hired for good now, don’t you?”

Julian nodded, “Yes. Definitely. You did well there. Shall we…” He tilted his head and she assumed he meant to go back to their room. She’d love to, of course, but a bit of waiting never hurt anyone.

“Yes. But can we go for a little walk first? I am so full from dinner.”

She watched him carefully and if he was disappointed by her request, he didn’t reveal it.

“Of course, that’s a great idea. Around the pool again? Or…”

She had a better idea. “I’d love to walk over to the beach. I haven’t set a toe on Waikiki since I arrived.”

He smiled, one of his genuine, relaxed smiles, and they headed into the quiet foyer and through the glass doors that now opened on approach.

She giggled a little as they walked out into the humid night air and he asked, “What’s funny?”

She waved her hand at the entrance. “Oh, those doors. I’m always so pleased by small improvements that make a massive difference to a business’ appeal.”

He chuckled. “Yes. That was a good thing to fix.”

“It was my very first phone call. How are the numbers for the hotel going?”

“We’re still very much in the red, but we didn’t expect a turnaround from the first day. Three months is the goal. But let’s not talk about work. Tell me about your fantasies.”

A surprised laugh filled up her belly as she ran across the road, finally landing with her sandaled feet on the cool sand of Waikiki beach.

“Now this is a fantasy.” She tugged at the buckles and shuffled out of her shoes, before picking both of them up. She held them by the back straps and let the small grains of sand nestle between her feet. It was dark, so all she could see was what the street lights illuminated, and the moon light that sparkled off the water. “Standing on a beach in Hawaii. I’ve wanted to come here for so long.”

She began to walk, loving the sound of the waves, the quiet around her. She put her arms out wide and spun in a circle, her dress twirling around her legs. “Isn’t this magnificent?”

He chuckled softly, the sound rolling around her. She was getting used to that laugh.

“Are you laughing at me, Mr. King?”

She turned to look at him and began walking backwards, her eyes now adjusted to the dark so she could see the unusual play of emotions on his face.

What was he thinking?

Julian stuffed his hands into his pockets and began walking along the firm sand, his Italian leather shoes sinking with each step he took.

“I am. But it’s a good thing.”

She twirled again like a five-year-old with a new party dress, a sight he would never have assumed he would find attractive on a woman. But Samara was utterly enchanting.

“How is it a good thing?”

How much should he tell her? They were beginning an affair of sorts, so some nice words were appropriate, but this woman was an Alice. There was a large rabbit hole in front of him and the last thing he wanted to do was go tumbling down it.

“It’s good because I’ve never met a woman like you. You’re fun.”

She laughed again, the sound so clean and smooth it sent a shiver down his spine. There was no pretense or artifice to her, and he wasn’t used to it. In his world, he was always looking behind people’s words, investigating their intent, and second guessing how they were trying to manipulate him.

With Samara, he didn’t need to do that. She was different, and it was as obvious as the moon in the sky. And all of a sudden, he was intrigued.

“Tell me why you’re so different, Samara. Where did you grow up? What were your parents like?” He was a big believer in making your own destiny, but science was proving just how important genetics were in making you who you were.

“I’m not that different. I suppose I’m a little happier, or more positive than most the people I know, but that’s just me. And my mum. She’s a beautiful person.”

“But not very thrifty with money it seems?”

He regretted his words the moment he saw her face drop. “Well, they are actually. My dad got sick a while ago and they had to re-mortgage their house to pay for it and I think they fell behind on payments with him not working. They live on a big block with lots of development potential and I think someone saw the chance to grab their house. I don’t blame my parents.”

He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

What did he know about a single home and needing to re-mortgage to pay for medical bills? It was so far away from how he’d been brought up.

“So you grew up….” He didn’t want to say poor, but what other word was there?

“I grew up very happy and had everything I needed,” she finished for him, dancing a little in the sand.

He frowned as he watched her delight. Was it possible that this was all an act? He doubted it.

“Come on, Julian. Take your shoes off. And your jacket too. You look ridiculous.”

“Why? You wanna go skinny dipping?”

That would be the only reason that he’d be stripping off his suit.

She giggled in the night air. “Nope…but you’ve got a point. Home time?”

She bounced back to him, dropping her shoes and grabbing both of his hands in hers. A hand squeezed his heart from the inside, taking his breath with it. Samara stared up at him with the trust of a child and he was undone.

He pulled her closer and his lips touched hers, breathing in her scent, her warmth, her smell. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

She nodded and bent down to pick up her shoes, taking his hand once again so that they could walk back together. It was a foreign feeling, the casual squeeze of her hand in his. They weren’t on display, no one could see them. She wasn’t like his ex-wife. Samara wasn’t holding his hand to mark him as her property, nor playing a role. She wanted to hold his hand, and considering what they were about to share, it all made sense.

He pulled away as they stepped back onto the pavement, his hotel a huge presence across the road. “Shall we?”

She nodded and together they ventured inside, walking up the stairs to her room on the second floor.

His heart pounded as they entered her room, an anomaly in these situations. She undressed for him slowly, her eyes shining with happiness as she stripped to her lacy knickers, her tight, full breasts already erect and begging for his touch.

Julian stripped to nothing, his cock eager and lengthening by the moment.

He took her hand and lay her down, licking every inch of smooth, hot skin and exploring her body. She gasped and moaned, arching her back and reaching for him as she climbed up the rungs to orgasm.

When he stood up to get himself ready, she slid to the edge of the bed and took him into her mouth. Pleasure crashed into him as he allowed himself a moment of pure indulgence, enjoying the way her hair cascaded over his hands and her soft mouth sucked him with perfect tightness.

When he finally lay her down to take her, she didn’t allow him an inch of space.

She clung to his back, kissed his lips, and pressed into him so hard when she came he was scared she’d squeeze the very soul out of him.

When they were done, he wanted to stay with her. A horrible, uncomfortable feeling that had been absent for so long. He managed to extricate himself once she’d fallen asleep and when he stepped into the hallway outside her room, he could finally breathe.

It was too soon for him, but he knew that if he was in a position to love someone again, then Samara, despite how different she was, would be the perfect candidate.

It was a sad thought as he lay in bed. Right person. Wrong timing.

His dreams tortured him all through the night.

Chapter 5

“No, it’s your turn to answer one!” Samara pushed Julian’s naked chest back hard until she could jump on top of him, clinging to the sheets to cover herself while his hot, naked flesh pressed into the spot between her thighs.

“Fine. Ask away.”

They’d continued their one question a night game after that first dinner, and she was beginning to crave that special time with him. Those few short hours she got to see Julian unguarded, smiling. They weren’t enough.

“Tell me what you’re most afraid of in the world.”

Blue eyes grew stormy for a moment, before clearing like a summer’s day. “Snakes. I can’t stand them.”

“Oh, you’re cheating again!” She reached under his arms and tickled the flesh over his ribs.

He flipped them both over and she landed flat on her back, her hands pinned above her head.

He smirked down at her helpless form and she glared back. He was too strong for her, and even though she hated it because it made her feel weak, she loved home dominant he was. She pouted up at him. “That is not fair. I answered you honestly.”

It was a battle, every night. To glimpse a true part of him, a rawness that she desperately wanted to see. He’d fought her those first few nights and she hadn’t minded too much, but they were getting to their last days together and she’d grown more desperate to know him.

“I’m not afraid of much, Samara. Death, maybe. My parents growing old and sick. Maybe.”

He shrugged a little and she relaxed the fight in her arms, so he rolled onto his side behind her, pulling her body in to his until his heart beat against her back.

Her eyes closed all by themselves. Like curtain call at the end of an amazing play.

“I can agree with you there. I’m really close to my parents. I couldn’t imagine not having them.”

The silence stretched and she let her body relax against his, willing him to stay a little longer. Why he had to go back to his own room each night she’d never know.

Work he said. Yeah right. More like a deliberate wall he kept up between them.

“I better get going. You’re tired.”

She groaned and twisted in his arms, pressing him down so that she could curl up on him, her head on his chest. “Why do you always leave? We’ve only got two more nights together and then it’s all over.”

A lump lodged itself in her throat and she swallowed hard against the hot ache in her chest. They worked their arses off each and every day, and they celebrated their successes together each night. They were a great team. She hadn’t wanted to care about the man in her bed, but she did. A lot. She couldn’t stand the idea of not seeing him again.

“Good night, beautiful.” He kissed the top of her head and maneuvered out from underneath her arms.

Samara pulled up the coverlet and arranged her pillows for sleep. How did he made love to her with such passion and skill, and then leave her straight after? Her body was still buzzing from the orgasm he’d bestowed on her.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” She patted the bed next to her. “I’ll make room, I promise. I’m not too much of a bed hog.” She was lying there. Her girlfriends that she’d shared beds with over time, after big nights out, or conferences, had always complained that she was like an octopus.

“No. I can’t.”

“But why, Julian?”

He groaned as he pulled on his shirt, his jacket, his pants. It was such a shame to watch his incredibly strong and beautiful body be covered up like that.

“Because, Samara…”

She held her breath. Was he going to answer her? “Because?”

He sighed and shook his head.

Damn it. “Come on! Please. Just be honest with me. This one time.”

He spun back around and she knew she had him. His eyes had darkened.

“Because there is an intimacy to sleeping together that I don’t want. We’re already too close, and with you leaving…it just doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m too close?” Huh?

“Yes.” He nodded his head once, dropped down onto the bed for one more kiss, then waved himself out the door.

She was too close, what did that mean? Why was she so bad at understanding men?

Did he like her too much?

Was she already too close because she was so clingy, too affectionate? What?

She lay back in her snuggly pillows and felt the burn of tears in her eyes.

No! Don’t you dare!

She could not afford to feel too much for this man. He’d made it clear at the beginning of this relationship that he wanted nothing more than a fling, and she’d agreed to that, so she couldn’t complain now.

She blew out a long breath and visualized her dream board. This year was for her and her baby.

Despite how lovely Julian could be, how smart and funny and certainly sexy as hell, he was not relationship material. His ex-wife had obviously done a good job of damaging his heart, and that was one thing she wanted from him.

She didn’t need his money, his status, or even his good looks, although that helped. If she was to invest in the long term with him, she wanted his heart, and unfortunately, that wasn’t on offer.

Two days later, they were having dinner when Julian hit her with one out of left field.

“I’d love to see you again when we’re both back in New York.”

Samara choked on the water she was drinking, then placed the glass quickly down, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin.

“Um, okay. That’s a little unexpected.” Especially since he’d cancelled on her last night, both dinner and their nightly love making session. She’d assumed they were done early, so this was certainly news to her.

A tugging worry wove around her chest and she fought the need to ask him a thousand questions all at once. Didn’t he understand that their lives would never work once they were back in the big apple?

When she didn’t respond, he asked, “What’s wrong?”

Julian’s furrowed brow and worried words surprised her. Did he read her so well already?

“Nothing.”

“No, seriously, tell me, Samara. I’ve seen that look far too many times this week. I know you’re not thinking pleasant thoughts.”

She glanced away, a smile tugging at her mouth. So, he did know her a little bit better than she’d realized. “I’m just wondering how life will be when we get back. This has been such an incredible week out of time, but…”

“But what?”

She took a shallow breath and bit her lip. How to tell him that she didn’t have time this year for what he wanted? Also, should she admit the fear she could feel peeking out from her heart that she would never survive longer with him? She was already besotted, how would she continue to fight her feelings for him if they kept seeing each other?

His eye brows narrowed and his blue eyes hardened like flint. “Am I to assume from your body language that our liaison is done?”

There was a hardness in his voice that she hadn’t heard before, and didn’t understand. “Hey, what are you getting upset for?”

He sat up like a tin soldier. “I am not upset.”

Bull shit.

He’d outright told her that nothing else was on offer and she’d hardened herself to that reality. Changing her plans on a promise of another sex-only affair would be devastating to everything she needed in life.

“You are upset. I thought we’d agreed that this was a holiday, work, fling thing?”

She let the question hang in the air between them and he took his time responding.

Julian forced a smile to his lips and then took a long swallow of his red wine. He’d been thinking about this and he had an answer for her.

“It’s up to you really, Samara. We can leave it as a holiday fling. Or…we can continue to see each other when we get back to New York. We don’t live far from one another and we get along well.” That was an understatement of course, he’d never met a woman whose company he enjoyed so much, but he was keeping that to himself.

She drew a deep breath, looking away for a moment and unease shifted in his chest. Had he read her enthusiasm over the past few weeks incorrectly? He’d thought she would jump at the chance to spend more time with him. Enjoy his lifestyle. His money. Even just the sex, that was good enough to sacrifice time for.

Her eyes shifted back, a pinch between her eyebrows raising red flags for him.

“What sort of relationship would you want back in New York, Julian?”

This was the slippery slope question. Women slid these in to the conversations too often and he had to be careful here.

“Same as we had here. Dinners, sex, conversations. I find that I enjoy spending time with you, sharing ideas.” He swallowed, amazed at the strength of emotion tightening his chest. “I don’t enjoy peoples’ company often and I’m going to miss these easy exchanges once I’m home again.”

All of that was true and he was surprised how easily it spilled from his lips. He didn’t like to give women he dated a tool to use against him, but as Samara was so different, he was willing to afford her more compliments. An insight into how he felt about her.

She relaxed in her chair, her shoulders dropping down and a beautiful smile lighting up her face. “Thank you for saying that. I find you easy to talk to also and I’m going to miss you once I leave.”

And yet she was saying no. It was obvious. What had he missed?

“Does that mean you want to leave this in Hawaii?”

His gut burned with a heavy disappointment. In himself mostly. He wasn’t generally wrong about women.

“No, I’d love to keep seeing you when we get back, but…” She bit her lip and his mind whirled with possibilities. A boyfriend, a husband, kids? What was stopping her? And why hadn’t he researched her more thoroughly before taking this step? Foolish mistake. A first.

“I have to tell you something, and I’m not sure our stars are going to line up on this one.”

“Tell me.” He ignored the line about the stars or whatever she believed. Fate was not real. He, and only he controlled his life.

“I want to get married and have a baby this year.”

What? Where had that come from?

“Pardon me?”

His hands landed palm down on the table, the force causing the knife and fork to clatter against the plate. She’d said something about marriage and babies in that first conversation they’d had, but he’d been too petrified by the topic to quiz her any further.

And he hadn’t thought it applied to him, but now, obviously it did!

Had this been her plan all along? To seduce him into marriage? Not a chance! He was never getting married again. Never!

She rolled her eyes at him. “Don’t freak out on me, I’m just being honest.”

His heart raced in his chest. Not a good sign.

He nodded at her to continue. He didn’t’ trust himself to speak as expletives whirled around his head.

She sighed. “I should start from the start.”

He nodded again and forced the words out. “Probably best.”

Had he been fooled by a woman, again? Impossible. Damn it! Hadn’t he learnt his lesson from Marguerite?

Samara took a deep breath and began intertwining her fingers like she did sometimes when she was thinking, or nervous. “I set myself several goals when I was twenty-one, all revolving around money, business, property, etc. And thanks to a lot of hard work and some help from lady luck, I’ve achieved them all. But on a personal level, I’m way behind where I wanted to be. I have endometriosis, quite badly actually. It’s a condition that makes conceiving quite difficult and my specialist told me years ago not to wait until after I was thirty to have a baby, or it may not happen. And at my last appointment he told me that a hysterectomy is on the cards if I don’t act fast.”

His hands stopped their aching as he released the pressure on his shoulders and arms. His heart calmed down and he took a breath.

“And you’re thirty now?”

He understood goals and time constraints, his whole life had been about them. He was grateful that a biological clock was one thing he would never have.

“I turn thirty this year, that’s why I initially refused this job. I’m in the process of taking a major step back from my business. I’m not taking on any new jobs and I’m training people to replace me so I can take the year off. I start IVF as soon as I get back.”

He stilled, amazed at the narrow view she had of the world and her life in the future. She wanted to be pregnant that soon? He’d dodged a bullet then. IVF. He’d heard it was an incredibly expensive, stressful, and damaging process.

Just thinking about the artificial hormones she’d be pumping into her body made him cringe, let alone the natural pregnancy related ones.

“IVF? With who?”

“A donor, unless I meet someone very soon who wants the same things I do.”

As if any guy would be able to get up to speed that fast. She had no hope of achieving that goal. “And if you meet someone but he doesn’t want kids?”

She shrugged, a soft smile tugging at her full lips. “I believe very much in the Universe sending you what you need.”

Well that certainly isn’t me.

He cleared his throat, waiting for the cloud of disbelief to un-fog his brain so he could speak. This woman, who’s dreams were literally his worst nightmare, sat before him. He should run, screaming from the building.

However, the fact that he may never see her again was tugging at his heart with un-natural pain. “Well, at least you’ve been honest, I’ll give you that.”

She laughed, but it sounded hollow. “Look, I appreciate the fact that you aren’t on the same page as me, so let’s just enjoy the last night we have together and then say our good byes tomorrow. It has been an amazing journey, and I thank you for that, Julian, very much.”

Love poured out through her eyes and he looked away, tightness squeezing his chest again. He didn’t want to focus on any of the feelings Samara invoked in him. There was only one thing left to do and she was right. Enjoy their last night together. He had so many things left he wanted to do to her.

He turned his gaze back on her and injected the lust that was now trickling through his veins, into his tone.

“Now that, my beautiful, sounds like a plan.”

Samara let Julian lead her upstairs, her throat aching from unshed tears. She’d been completely honest with him and he had acted how she’d most feared he would. With utter fear and certain rejection.

But she was doing the right thing by stopping their relationship tonight. It was the best thing, for both of them. Julian would never handle her IVF journey and she couldn’t continue to have sex with him and keep her heart in one piece. Tonight would be pushing her resistance as it was.

She squeezed his hand. “Can we go to your room? I haven’t seen it yet.”

He hesitated, then smiled, pulling her toward the old, grand elevator that she’d become very attached to. She’d miss this hotel so much once she was gone. She’d grown attached to everything, and everyone. Her pride at seeing the transformations that took place every day filled her to the brim.

“Sure. Why not?” He pushed a penthouse button, swiped a card she hadn’t seen before, and they glided up the old shaft.

“I was scared to death the first time I rode this elevator,” Samara confided.

He smiled. “But you got that fixed up pretty fast, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “Safety first.”

That statement quietened them both down.

They had been safe. Very safe. They’d gone through a box of condoms this week. Except for that first time in the pool of course.

The elevator ground to a halt and the doors dinged open, straight into the apartment.

Very impressive. Who did this renovation?

It was huge. Large modern kitchen, a living space that was bigger than her entire apartment at home, and she assumed it had several bedrooms.

“Wow. This is incredible. Why didn’t we spend more time in this room?” She walked over to the large windows that gave her a bird’s eye view of the city. “Waikiki is very pretty, isn’t it?”

“Yes. It is,” he answered, ignoring her question about why they didn’t spend more time in his room. He walked up behind her and slid his arms around her waist in a comforting gesture she would miss. “What shall we do tonight? Make love in the spa, perhaps?”

“Oh, a spa!” She twisted around and noticed a strange disappointment on his face. What was that? Perhaps he’d brought other women here and they’d responded to all the wealth in a similar way. “Actually…we’ve already done the water thing. Do you have anything you’d like to do?”

He smiled this time, the light reaching his eyes for once. “Yes, I do.” He picked her up and carried her over to the kitchen, where he set her down on the marble bench top. She tried not to squeal as the cold bench top bit into her thighs and instead focused on him. Julian ran his hands up the outside of her thighs, her insides clenching with need. Finally, he tugged at her panties. Obviously, they were going to make love right here. “Lie back.”

Throwing caution, and insecurities to the wind, Samara lay back on the cool marble and let Julian pull her panties down. Nervous bubbles wiggled in her belly, but she did as he asked. Her knickers disappeared down her legs and Julian knelt on the floor, his hands opening her thighs. She lifted her knees, placing her feet on his shoulders as he began to kiss up the inside of her thighs with his soft, beautiful mouth.

She covered her face with her hands, a strange embarrassment sweeping over her as tingles of pleasure curled in her belly. They were beneath bright lights, in his kitchen, and he was about to lick her…

“Oh... wow…” She moaned as his tongue pulsed over her swollen clit, the sensations coursing down the backs of her legs.

He continued to pleasure her as she thrashed on the table. His tongue swiped over her flesh, suckling her clit before delving down deeper down into her body.

“Julian...please... I…”

He stood up and looked down on her, wiping his glistening chin with his hand. “What is it?”

“I want you.”

Satisfaction showed in his gaze as he grinned, lifted his hand, and slid his fingers into place. Opening her, filling her up, and causing a new pleasure to pulse through her belly. He moved his fingers in and out, in the perfect rhythm that made her eye lids begin to drop and her legs to tighten.

He withdrew his hand from her aching cleft and began to unbutton his pants.

She pulled herself up to sitting and attacked his buttons herself, opening his shirt so that she was free to touch him properly. Her hands ran over his hot skin, and pushed his shirt down his arms.

Julian opened his pants and stroked his cock with his wettened hands, then slipped protection on. She would have much preferred there to be no barrier between them, but he’d argued this point already with her.

She held tight to his shoulders and stared into his eyes as he stepped closer.

Julian said, “I want to remember this.”

She nodded and breathed out slowly, opening her legs to accommodate him now that he was fully naked.

He set his thick, arrow-shaped cock head to her swollen lips and slid in slowly.

She bit her lip as hot tears gathered in her eyes. She concentrated on her breathing, his blue gaze connecting with hers as he dove into her body, bringing them together for the very last time. That thought caused more tears as hot, tight pleasure squeezed her belly, and she closed her eyes, dropping her head as the feelings over whelmed her.

His hand shot up and lifted her chin. “No hiding. I want to see you.”

He pulled back and she cried out, shifting forwards to receive him again.

He slammed back in and she screamed, digging her nails into his shoulders.

He moved back again and the emptiness inside her became too much to bear.

He thrust back towards her and she stared straight into Julian’s eyes, his mouth open and his breathing rate increasing as he began to move harder and faster.

They were now both part of the ancient dance, a race to the end.

They moved as one, each receiving and taking as the storm began to lift them up and throw them around.

“Julian. I…”

A hot, huge wave crashed into her and she cried out, squeezing him tightly as pleasure slammed through her. Julian kept moving, prolonging her orgasm until he was grunting, panting, fighting his own release.

She shifted her pelvis forward again, taking him deeper, and then she heard it. That hitch in his breath, that groan. He threw back his head as he thrust, balls deep into her body and let go of that beautiful control he had.

He shuddered in her arms and she kissed the line of his strong throat; then his cheek when he finally dropped down close enough.

The heat settled over them like a cloud and she didn’t want to break the spell. But when he finally did, she let go of any hurt feelings. This was one last night to remember.

“To bed?” he asked as he pulled away.

She nodded as he cleaned himself up, grabbed his bedraggled clothes, and led her into the huge main bedroom.

They made love again and when the sun rose she was still in his arms.

They didn’t have breakfast together, nor really said goodbye.

“I better go, Julian. I’ve got a lot of things to check off before my flight tonight.”

“Of course. Thank you for all your great work over the past two weeks. You really have got this hotel back on the road to recovery.”

Straightening her collar, she ran her fingers quickly through her hair. She’d have to stop off at her room to shower and change, then she’d attend to the staff.

Turning to him, she pasted on her sunniest smile. She’d done a great job, even if she did say so herself, and had a better time than she’d ever imagined.

“It has been an honor, Julian. This job has been an incredible experience. The new managers are all very qualified for their positions, my handbooks are all being printed and should be here this weekend, and I’m only a skype call away if you need anything else.” Something she’d made sure everyone in the hotel knew. Just because she’d be home doing her health retreat thing, didn’t mean she couldn’t fit in a call or two.

“I know. And I have your email. I wish you luck with your future plans, Samara.”

She smiled at him, her heart squeezing tight. “You too, Julian. It really has been an honor to work with you.”

He smiled at her, then headed off into the shower, shutting the door behind him.

Samara managed to get through the day very well. Surprisingly well.

She tied up all her loose ends, managed to speak to the staff, and even have a beautiful, albeit fast dinner, as she was running out the door.

Leaving the hotel was so far away from her first experience when she’d arrived two weeks ago, she could barely believe it. This time, the maitre’d called her a taxi, the doors whooshed open on their own, and there was a tour bus arriving on the doorstep to check in.

She left Hawaii with a smile on her face and knowledge that she’d done a great job.

However, the ache left in her chest as she watched Waikiki disappear beneath a cover of cloud as her plane took off, told her that Julian would not be as easy to forget as she’d originally hoped.

Chapter 6

“The baby looks perfect. Measuring a little big for twenty weeks, but that’s still within normal limits. You are one very lucky woman, Samara.”

Samara couldn’t tear her eyes away from the ultra sound screen where her baby moved vigorously around, almost as though it were trying to run away from the probe pressed into her belly.

“I am. So, lucky.”

Her obstetrician took the metal paddle away and the screen froze on the last image of her little one.

It was four months since she’d left Hawaii, and three months since she’d realized she was pregnant. The most incredible and terrifying moment of her life so far. The fear had been immediate, followed swiftly by disbelief and then a warmth of love that she’d never expected.

Against all odds, she’d conceived the baby her specialists had sworn was almost impossible, in a body she’d been told may not be able to carry a child at all.

She’d held her breath until that first ultrasound at twelve weeks, when despite the fear gnawing at her insides, she’d hoped and prayed for a good outcome.

The Universe had delivered for her. Her life was now even better than she’d ever imagined. Seeing the baby’s little heart racing away on that first screening caused tears. They hadn’t stopped since. Tears of joy, tears of relief, tears of hormones that she couldn’t quite control.

Thank goodness the nausea had finally stopped. She’d lost ten pounds in the first trimester. She hadn’t been able to keep anything down.

“All done here. You can get dressed and I’ll see you at your next appointment.”

Her obstetrician handed her a print out of her baby’s profile and she gripped it tight. Her parents would love having this picture. She’d have to scan it and email them when she arrived home. “Thanks, Alex.”

He left her alone and she got to her feet, checking her phone and seeing another missed call from Julian. Her stomach tightened with unease.

What did he want now? That was the third time he’d called in three days.

She’d managed to avoid seeing him since Hawaii. There had been a few phone calls, emails to staff, and even a few video conference calls with decorators for the hotel. Despite her original reservations on working through this year, she enjoyed it. She’d been happy to help him follow up with the work she’d started, and had billed the King hotel empire for her time.

They’d paid for all her nursery furniture and stroller already, just in the overtime she’d done since leaving.

Everything was going so well in her life, she found herself holding her breath some days, waiting for something bad to happen.

Her business was ticking along, her two protégés were doing very well in her absence. She was seeing a chiropractor, a naturopath, and doing pregnancy yoga regularly. Her parents were happy and debt free, and she had a healthy baby growing inside her. Everything was perfect.

Her phone tinkled and she glanced down to see Julian’s ID once again. She groaned and switched it off, throwing it into her handbag. She paid the doctors bill with a swipe of her credit card and made her way out of the clinic.

Julian couldn’t find out about her pregnancy. He’d made it very clear that this was never on the cards for him. And yet, no matter how often she told herself that she was doing the right thing, the guilt she felt every day at keeping it from him ate at her heart.

She wanted to tell him, so much. But she was terrified to. Would he be angry with her? More than likely. Would he demand DNA tests? She shuddered at the thought. Would he never want to see her again, or worse, would he demand his parental rights?

No. She wouldn’t lose her baby. It was not an option.

She walked the few blocks home, stopping for a soy latte—her one for the week. She’d cut back on most unhealthy foods, but she just couldn’t give up her little bit of chocolate and caffeine.

Her reflection beamed back at her as she passed by the many sky rise buildings. She wore a coat today to stave off the fall chill, but her figure-hugging navy dress beneath showed her basketball bump nicely.

She smoothed her hand along her baby and kept walking, a list of emails that she needed to send off running through her head. As she approached her building her eye caught a flash of something silver as an expensive foreign car pulled up at the curb.

Rummaging through her large Hermes bag for her keys, she turned away toward her building. It was such a luxury to have a car in New York. The street was littered with yellow cabs and not much else.

“Samara.”

She froze, her fingers still clinging to the keys in her hand. She knew that deep, cool voice too well. Panic ensued with her heart stumbling to the starting blocks, and then racing off. Ants crawled all over her skin with feverish pace. Her belly!

She wrapped her coat around herself and tied the belt as tight as she could. When she turned around she’d managed to plaster a smile onto her face, but her knees were trembling where she stood.

Julian King. The man of her dreams. Literally. His blue eyes, hot words, and incredible love making skills still haunted her nightly hours.

He stepped in front of her, his eyes wide, his hands out stretched.

“You are one hard woman to find.”

Hardly. I didn’t even think of moving apartments.

She laughed and leaned forward as he drew her close. His lips touched hers with a soft kiss that lingered, a shiver caressing her spine as her eyes dropped to half-mast.

Don’t let him know!

She pulled back and held her bag in front of her belly, trying not to look as obvious and awkward as she felt.

“Not really. I’ve answered all your emails and most of your calls. But I’ve been busy too and the hotel seemed to be ticking along just fine. Anyway, Julian, how are you? Long time, no see.”

She was forcing it, and when his mouth dropped into a displeased frown, she knew she was blowing it. Big time.

“What’s wrong, Samara? Have I interrupted something? Are you meeting your boyfriend, or someone?” He looked behind him as though expecting a man to materialize.

She laughed, forcing out the sound. “Of course not. I was just sorting out lists in my head. A bit distracted today. How are you? How’s the hotel going? Trey has sent me photos and I’ve seen lots of good reviews on trip advisor.”

It had made her proud to see so many people flocking back to the hotel she’d helped re-build.

“And you’ve got your money, of course.” His tone was flat and it made her gut twist. Yes, she’d received the bonus she’d been promised if the hotel performed as they’d wanted within the first quarter. Mrs. King had been very impressed with the changes.

“Yes, I did. Thank you.”

Julian glanced up at her building. “Can I come up?”

He took her elbow and turned her. Her feet moving despite her brain telling her to stop.

“Ah, no. It’s not a good time.”

Julian stopped, his hand falling away from her elbow. “You have met someone.”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that. I just want to keep things as they were left. Clean cut.”

“Well, I don’t. Let’s go. I hate talking on the street where everyone can see us.”

He kept walking and somehow she followed along with his plan, opening the front door to her apartment building and got into the lift before she could think of a better way of putting him off.

He pushed the button for her floor and she rolled her eyes. He knew where she lived. She wouldn’t have been able to avoid him even if she’d convinced him to go away today, it was pretty obvious he would have come back and knocked on her door.

Damn. I should have said I had a new boyfriend. He would have left then.

When the elevator opened, she walked out into the hall and fumbled with her keys.

“Julian. What do you want? I really do have lots to do today.”

“I have another proposal for you. A better one. So if you don’t mind, I’d like a coffee and to sit down with you and talk about it.”

His tone brooked no argument and her brain went to mush. She twisted and held the key out, managing to get it into the hole and turning the knob to let her back into the apartment.

She held her breath as she did a quick scan of the furniture. No. Nothing baby orientated that she could see. It was all tucked away in the nursery.

“Coffee you said?”

She walked over to the kitchen and turned on her coffee machine. She hadn’t used it in months. The aromatic smell that had once made her practically moan with delight now made her belly churn.

One of the many things she’d gone off during her pregnancy.

“Cappuccino?”

She put the pod into the machine and heated up the milk, her heart fluttering away like a caged bird. How was she going to get him out of here?

She made his drink and turned around, pushing it across her crowded bench top. Her back was sweating and she was dying to take her coat off but the last thing she wanted to do was expose her pregnancy.

“What can I do for you, Julian?”

His eyes brows did that odd dance when he was surprised by her and wasn’t sure what he should say. “I wanted to see you, what’s wrong with that? You’ve been avoiding my calls and I wanted to check on you, make sure everything was okay.”

She gestured to herself in general. “Well, as you can see, I’m fine. Travelling along my journey.”

The corner of his mouth kicked up in a cute smile she remembered so well and her tummy fluttered at the sight. “You’re such a hippy.”

She shrugged and crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah, well. I’m me. And you know that.”

“I do. And that’s why I’m here…. You look different.”

You have no idea.

“Well, I feel different. I’m finally looking after myself as I should. So please, I have a shower calling to me and a conference call later on. Our business is done, Julian.”

He was still staring at her, his eyes surveying her body, skimming over her breasts and lower.

She looked down and realized crossing her arms beneath her breasts had caused her coat to tug against her belly, exposing her curve.

Oh, no….

Was that the reason she was still in her jacket? Her cheeks flushed pink with the warmth of the room. She was hiding her belly from him. But why?

Julian swallowed the acid in his throat, his eyes lingering around the soft swell of her lower abdomen. Her jacket gaped open, revealing…

“You’re pregnant.”

The words came out like gun shot in the room.

His hands began to shake as he picked up his coffee cup and took a sip, ice running through his veins, vanishing all remnants of heat. Had she gotten herself knocked up after she returned to New York? With IVF as she had planned? Or was it his?

“Whose baby is it, Samara?”

His brain calculated the dates, four months, one week since she’d returned to New York.

He had no idea how pregnant she looked, but he was going to find out the truth, so help him!

“Ah, um...”

Why was she stammering? The question wasn’t that difficult and definitely indicated a hole in her usual immediate honesty.

“Julian, this is my baby, there is no father.”

Anger boiled in his gut like a turbulent sea. He pressed both palms into the cold marble of the bench top, glaring hard at the woman he thought he could trust, who wouldn’t lie to him about something so important.

“It's mine. Isn't it?”

She didn't move, but every instinct in his primitive hunter sensed the fear, knew the truth.

No! He spun away from her, his hands clenching into fists. “For fuck’s sake, Samara! How the hell did this happen?”

She was a liar! A god damn liar. Like every other woman he’d ever met. He’d thought she was different. How could he have been so wrong about a person?

Once again. Classic fool.

“Calm down, Julian. I told you. This baby is my choice. There is no father, no obligation. You need not do anything.”

Need not do anything? The words reverberated around his head like the echoes in a cave.

A coldness washed over him, straightening his spine to an iron rod. Had she just admitted that the baby she carried was his? What happened to the IVF she’d wanted to begin? Not to mention her supposed infertility. He’d actually felt sorry for her about that. For months after they’d split.

“How on Earth did this even happen, Samara? You said you were on the pill. That you were beginning IVF soon because getting pregnant naturally wasn’t possible for you. What other lies have you told me?”

She blinked a few times before flicking her hair over her shoulders and placing both hands on her hips. The move made her coat spread wide and his gaze dropped to her swollen little belly.

“I’ve been on the pill for ten years for my endo. I went off it a couple of weeks before I met you, on doctor’s orders, so I could start the IVF process. And I was told I might never conceive naturally.”

So, when he didn’t pull out in time in the pool and she told him she was on the pill…

“So you out right lied.”

He turned away. Every woman he’d ever met had deceived him, but this was the worst ever.

Holy mother in heaven.

A baby.

She touched his shoulder and he flinched, but he couldn’t stop himself from turning around and looking at her flushed face.

“I didn’t mean to mislead you that time in the pool. I was all blissful and post orgasm when you asked and I just answered without thinking.”

He glared down at her, his jaw aching from the tight clench he had on his teeth. “That’s your excuse? The orgasm made you do it? Why would you even keep it when you found out?’

When her eyes widened in horror he looked away, unable to watch her outrage spread across her beautiful, traitorous face. He knew why she’d kept the baby when she found out she was pregnant without an expensive IVF process. This baby had been her yearly goal, her plan, and he’d fallen for it, hook line and sinker.

She finally removed her jacket, revealing her gorgeous body and the protruding belly that his genetics had contributed to. She stared at him as she stroked her stomach with both hands, her fingers running up and down in a rhythmic, loving pattern. “Because I believe in the Universe and the laws of attraction, Julian. I wanted a baby this year and was willing to go through IVF alone to achieve it. This was meant to happen. I just know it. This is the baby I’m meant to have.”

The heavy, angry pain that ripped through his gut rippled up and out, filling his arms with a tension that mimicked the need to fight against the stress attacking him.

“You’re meant to have? Didn’t you even consider whether I should be asked how I feel? How selfish could you be, Samara?”

She dropped her arms and turned her hands up. “I’m telling you now when I could have lied to you. Told you it was a donor sperm baby. You made it very clear that night we had dinner that you had no interest in marriage, a family, or even a proper relationship. Why would I burden you with this information when it’s the furthest thing from your life plan?”

What a ridiculous reason to with-hold life altering information.

“So now it’s my fault? You stole my sperm, gave me no choice in this, and now you’re having my baby without my permission.”

Anger flickered across her face, her lush mouth twisting up and her eyebrows drawing together. “I did not steal your sperm. If I remember correctly, you gave it to me without a second thought.”

Heat washed up his neck, a spreading sense of shame finding its target near his gut. He’d cum inside her without a thought for the consequences, something that had never happened before. Not even with his ex-wife.

“But if I’d known you weren’t protected we could have sought out the morning-after pill. You’ve taken away any chance I had in making this decision with you!”

Her hands went to her small belly, cradling it protectively as she slowly took a few steps back toward the door. “I need you to leave, Julian. Just pretend this conversation never happened.”

She held open the door to her apartment and he stared at her.

“Are you serious?”

She nodded once. “Absolutely. I didn’t want you to feel trapped or hurt, or anything. We had a good time in Hawaii, but we’re home now and you can go back to your own life.”

As if he could, or would do that.

But she obviously didn’t know him well enough to know that. He marched straight out into the corridor, his back ram rod straight, his nails digging into his palms and rolling waves of nausea.

A baby. His baby.

Not his baby. Hers.

Chapter 7

Oh shit, oh damn, oh crap, oh... no!

In her hand, Samara held several white pieces of paper. All of which was going to cause a disaster in her life.

Julian wanted a DNA test. He wanted his parental rights, and worst of all, he wanted her to marry him!

Marry him? What sort of man put a proposal in a lawyer’s letter, coupled with a very insulting DNA test suggestion? If he didn’t think the baby was his, why was he bothering to even offer her marriage?

“Oh, you bloody… bastard!”

Hot, angry tears blurred her vision as she paced her newly carpeted lounge room. He couldn’t do this, surely he couldn’t? A short phone call to her lawyer later and she realized he could. Ask for his parental rights, absolutely. Make her marry him? No.

Samara lay on her bed and cried and cried, gut wrenching, painful sobs. The baby she’d longed for, wished for, and prayed for would soon be taken from her.

No.

She fell asleep somewhere through the night, only to be woken by a door bell, well after sunrise.

Blinking her eyes awake, her clock read 9:10 am. Who on Earth would be banging on her door this early? She pulled herself out of bed, nausea swimming in her gut and rising in her throat. She grabbed for the crackers on her bed side table, chomping on one of them as she slowly climbed to her feet.

She tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. Yuck.

The banging continued and she called out. “I’m coming!” After what felt like forever, she finally made it to the front door.

Samara squinted through the key lock to see the devil himself standing on her stoop, red horns and a swishy tail present. Pressing her lips into a thin line, she grabbed for the door. She unlocked it with banging precision and pulled it open to glare at him before she’d even thought about the intelligence of that decision. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He had the grace to look bashful, his eyes averting to the ground. “Can I come in?”

She bit her tongue, the litany of curses she wanted to hurl at him ready to jump at a moment’s notice. But there was a bashfulness to his submissive stance that made her hold her tongue, and instead, she just stepped back and waved him in.

Only then did she notice the bouquet in his hand.

“These are for you.”

Again, her first reaction was one of violence, but she’d never been one to take her anger out on poor defenseless flowers. She snatched them from his hand and marched over to her kitchen bench. “Thanks. Shut the door behind you.”

The crystal vase her mother had bought her as a house warming present sat on the top shelf and was the perfect size for her flowers, of course. She pulled it down, filled it with water, and began arranging them.

They weren’t just red and white roses, there was a combination of greenery, tulips and even orchids. As she stared into center of the vase, water twisting around the stems reminding her of how swamped she felt herself, she asked her tormentor, “What do you want, Julian?”

He pulled out a bar stool and sat down at her kitchen bench. “I want us to talk.”

Her head snapped up and she narrowed her eyes at him. “Talk? Don’t you think your lawyer’s letter said enough?”

He shook his head and held up his hands. “No it didn’t, and I apologize for that. I think I acted too rashly.”

Her temper exploded like Mt. Vesuvius. “You think? You think! I am pregnant, by the good graces of whatever deity deemed it possible, but this is still a very high risk pregnancy. I do not need this stress or this shit, Julian! I spend every day meditating, going to yoga, and eating the most organic food I can find to keep my baby alive, and you decide to threaten me with a lawyer! What are you trying to do? Make me miscarry?”

She was screaming by now as her true fears poured out. She’d put everything on hold for this baby’s health, and its own father had put its life in jeopardy. The stress from yesterday would surely leave its mark.

He stared at her, his eyes wide and his lips thin. “Are you all right?”

“Of course I’m not all right! And you can forget about me marrying you. You can wait until the baby’s born and then do your DNA test. Don’t you be thinking you’ll be putting a needle anywhere near my baby! The risk of miscarriage with an amniocentesis is 0.5%! You can go jam it up your arse.”

Breathing was becoming a problem. She panted, taking long, quick breaths. How could he do this to her?

Julian pushed himself to his feet. “I didn’t mean to distress you so much. I wasn’t thinking properly. I’m sorry.”

“You should be!”

She moved around the kitchen bench, and staggered to the couch, falling into the soft cushions and grabbing a pillow to cuddle for comfort. She gulped at the lump in her throat. “And I can’t believe you honestly even want a DNA test! As if this baby could be anyone else’s!”

That had really pissed her off! She hadn’t slept with anyone in months before she’d met Julian, longer if she was truthful. Accusing her of being a slut was hitting way below the belt.

Julian sat down in the couch opposite her, his mouth tight. “That wasn’t my idea.”

“Good, because you’re not getting the results for another twenty weeks.”

She held tight to her pillow and turned her face away, staring out the window where there was a clear, cloudless fall sky. Bloody stupid weather. Where was a hurricane when you needed one? Maybe it could blow Julian right over a rainbow.

“I believe you, Samara.”

She snapped her head back around. “And do you still believe that I did this on purpose?”

He didn’t blink, but there was a hardness in his gaze that answered it for him.

Of course you do.

She fell back against the pillows and let her hands fall down to the side. How was she ever going to make him understand? She would never have deliberately done this to him. Never.

Julian regarded Samara as covertly as possible. Her keen eyes were too perceptive for him. He wouldn’t be able to hide anything from her, so no point lying to her. Yes, his suspicions were still there that she had tried to get pregnant on purpose. But there was one thing that was bugging him. She hadn’t told him. Had no plans to do so from her reactions so far.

So, what had he been? A means to an end? A cheap sperm donor for her baby? Because, despite his lawyer’s obvious fears, she wasn’t after his money. He’d had her investigated yesterday while he stewed in his juices, and although she was nowhere near the league of his parents or himself, she was very comfortable financially. She would provide a nice life for her child, but there was no way he was going to let her do it on her own.

“It’s not that I believe you did this on purpose. I know the sex in the pool was more my idea than yours.” His mouth twisted as the piece of logic popped into his head. She hadn’t hunted him down, tied him up, and stolen his sperm. She’d engaged in very passionate, hot sex, and he’d been the one with no control.

The pill lie still bugged him though.

“But you lying about the pill afterwards…”

Her groan was immediate as she pulled herself back up to glare at him. “I don’t know how to make this any clearer. I was on the pill for over ten years. Non-stop. I couldn’t go off it because of the bleeding and the pain. I went to my gynecologist in February and told him this year was the year I was going to try to get pregnant. I had an operation to cut out all the endo in my belly and then he said I had to go off the pill if I had any chance of getting my ovary’s working again. I had plans to wait a few months, get my body super healthy, and then start IVF. I never thought I would be able to conceive naturally. Since I turned eighteen I’d been told it would be practically impossible for me to ever have a baby.”

She was panting now, her chest heaving with her impassioned story telling.

He nodded and let her words sink in. It would be easy enough to check with her doctor the facts she spouted. He’d once been a man who could tell if someone was lying with a look, but since his massive failure with his ex-wife, and ex manager, he didn’t trust his own instincts.

Because they were telling him that she was being honest.

“All right. I will believe you.” He didn’t have his fingers literally crossed, but mentally he had both hands making the motion. “But we still have the issue of the pregnancy. I want to be able to see the child every day. Living together and marriage is the best solution.”

Originally, he had balked at the idea, massively. But then it had been pointed out to him what would happen if they didn’t marry. Samara was a young, beautiful woman. She would date, perhaps not right away, but eventually she would meet someone. Fall in love and get married. And his child would call that man daddy. He couldn’t have that.

He didn’t want that. Because although he’d never wanted children, now that there was one, he found he had very specific feelings on the topic.

Marriage gave him more than full rights to his child, it gave him her. They’d been good together in Hawaii, why wouldn’t they be able to come to an agreement that would suit them both?

“You are out of your mind if you think that I would ever marry you, Julian.”

Her hand went to her belly, cradling and stroking in a protective, frantic sort of motion.

He tried not to focus too much on the bulge of his child, but it distracted him no end. His parents had always demanded he continue the line, the name. But he’d refused up until this point.

He didn’t want to screw up his kid as his parents had practically tried to do with him. Boarding schools, nannies, no affection or love. What sort of father would he be after the example he’d been set?

But that had all been before Samara’s body made his baby. Everything was different now. He would be different.

His mother would be thrilled once she found out.

“Samara. Think of all the advantages marriage to me entails. Unlimited money to expand your business, take on more people, not to mention what it would mean for our child. The best schools, the best of everything.”

She pouted a little, her gaze not meeting his. “It’s my child.”

He clenched his jaw tight. In the eyes of the law, she was dead wrong, but he had to be gentle. Obviously, his lawyers letter had sent her into an absolute melt down which could not have been good for the baby. “Samara, please don’t push me. I am the father. Fifty percent of that baby’s parents.”

He left the rest unspoken, but even that seemed to agitate her as she stood up and moved to the kitchen.

“Do you want a drink or something?”

“Water would be great. Thank you.”

Perhaps they needed a better compromise, or more time. They had twenty weeks after all. He was sure he could convince her by then.

Samara served him up a big glass of water and he swallowed it down, his throat unusually parched. He’d headed over here feeling determined, but it was only now that he was realizing that this was probably the most important conversation of his life.

“Look, Samara. We can do this, I’m sure. I want this to work and I’m sure we can hash out a solution that works for both of us. After all, we worked really well in Hawaii together.”

That drew a tiny smile from her and his heart fluttered in a strange way. He’d forgotten how much her happiness affected him.

“I suppose so.”

Her shoulders were slumped and he tried not to be affected by her defeated posture. The main reason he’d hunted her down after so long was because he wanted her in his life. She was normally such a unique person. So vivacious and lively, happy. This sadness didn’t suit her at all.

“All right…” He thought fast, what were his options? “Well…. I will look into buying an apartment closer to here, maybe even in the same building. That would give us more time together.”

She raised her head, her clear eyes watching him. “Sorry. Do you mean you want to spend time with me, now? Or us, when the baby’s born?”

“Probably better to start looking now. The market around here is tightly held.”

She had bought in a nice area, and he admired her for that.

“Yes. There’s great schools too.”

She reached over to her bag and began riffling through it. His stomach dropped with worry. Was she going to throw his lawyer’s letter literally in his face?

That had been a dumb idea. He’d realized it pretty much as soon as the letter was sent. Aggression and lawyer letters were not the way to deal with a situation like this.

“Here’s some of the pictures the doctor took on Tuesday.”

She passed him two small black and white photos and for a moment he didn’t know what he was looking at. Just blotches of white and out of focus shapes.

“There’s the head, and nose…” Samara explained, running her fingernail over the picture.

The photo transformed and suddenly, Julian could see a baby.

“Oh my God.” He couldn’t believe it. There was a whole person in the photo and he hadn’t even seen it.

“The doctor asked me if I wanted to know the sex, but I didn’t. I like the surprise.”

He just nodded, not caring about that. Up until two days ago he wasn’t having a child at all, so its sex wasn’t important to him.

She pressed on. “Do you care what it is?”

“Uh…no. Not at all.” He tore his eyes away from the picture and slowly placed it down on the table.

A baby. He really was going to have a baby. His throat tightened and his chest began to squeeze tight, the air in the room thinning out so he couldn’t breathe.

“Um, I think I need to go. But, can we organize a lunch, or dinner… Some time when we can talk.”

So many things to sort out. He needed to change. Everything. His life did not suit a child.

“I have a hospital appointment next week if you want to come?” she asked, her voice a little anxious.

Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound. It would probably help him understand how this had all happened in the first place. “Yes. I would love that. Email me all the details, yeah?”

He was not coping suddenly and he needed to get away. Guilt or pure panic, he wasn’t sure which, but they were chasing him and he couldn’t get away fast enough. He turned toward the door, when he saw the flowers and he realized why he’d come here in the first place.

A calm washed over him. He would change. He was sure he could.

He swiveled back around and injected as much sincerity into his tone as possible. “Please ignore everything in that lawyer’s letter. We can work things out ourselves, and we have time. There’s no rush.”

She nodded, her eyes a little shiny. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

He nodded once more and left, his thoughts and feelings whirling around in a big mess that was quite cathartic. He had to let go of his pre-conceived ideas and get on board with this new plan.

For the first time since he’d found out about the baby he was beginning to think that things might actually be okay. She was a sensible woman, and he’d forgotten that in the stress and hassle of the past few days.

Perhaps his luck with women, and people, had finally changed.

He was late. She’d told him not to be late.

“Samara Jenkins?”

Her name was called by the nurse and with anger gripping her stomach, she pushed herself to her feet from the hospital waiting room. The doors of the lift opened with a melodic ding and Julian rushed out.

“I’m sorry I’m late.”

He looked properly contrite and she was surprised about how quickly her anger dissipated and happiness filled her. She was actually very relieved to see him and that surprised her.

She’d spent the week trying to come to terms with the fact that she would now be sharing her precious miracle with another person, and although it initially stung, she was warming to the idea that her child would have both a mother and a father who loved them.

“It’s okay.”

He smiled at her and they both walked over to where the nurse was directing them into one of the suites. They sat on the leather chairs and her obstetrician walked in.

“How are you today, Samara?”

“Good, Alex.” She indicated to the powerful man in a suit next to her. “This is Julian King. The father.”

She gave her obstetrician credit, he didn’t blink an eye, simply turned to Julian and shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Alex Lilliac. You must be excited about your little miracle here.”

Julian’s smile was forced. “I was surprised, to be honest. Samara told me that she believed she couldn’t conceive naturally.”

She resisted the need to roll her eyes. Let him ask his questions and check if she was being completely honest. She’d never lied to him, not on purpose anyway.

Alex sat down and stared straight at Julian. “By all accounts, she shouldn’t be able to. I’d estimated at least three rounds of IVF, and then perhaps a surrogate if she couldn’t carry to term. Samara is amazingly healthy and so is the baby, considering the limitations of her body.”

Julian nodded and swallowed. If he had any more questions, he kept them to himself.

“Would you like to take a quick look at your child?”

Julian nodded and Samara stood up and lay down on the doctor’s table.

Alex grabbed his small ultrasound machine, applied the clear lubricant to the head, and ran it over the swell of her belly with gentle proficiency.

The baby’s image popped onto the screen and her heart thumped in happy bliss.

“There you go, Samara. Beautiful, clear image. Nice strong heart beat.”

Julian was hovering around, and his eyes were transfixed on the screen. “Is everything okay?” he asked, his voice a little strained.

“Yes. So far, so good,” Dr. Alex said, his fingers tapping on the buttons as he measured the length of the baby’s spine.

“But there could be problems?” Julian asked, twisting around and looking at the doctor with concern written into the mini wrinkles on his forehead.

“Yes, there can always be problems, and with Samara’s past surgeries and history, there are risks. But we monitor her every week and we’re hoping for a good outcome.”

“Yes. I can’t wait,” she agreed, focusing on the beautiful natural birth she wanted in her mind. Visualization was key and the doctor had said that he would support her in her attempt.

Dr. Alex checked her blood pressure, weighed her, asked a few more questions, then they were out the door.

Samara tugged her scarf tighter around her neck. Winter was on its way.

“Thanks for coming, Julian.” She turned to see that strange look on his face again. She laughed, enjoying the glazed expression that clearly indicated that he was speechless.

He shook himself. “Ah… I. Would you join me for dinner?”

Hmmm… Where would this go if she agreed to dinner? No where she wanted at the moment.

“I’m not sure, Julian. If we are going to co-parent, that is one thing, but if you are trying to make a relationship between us work, I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen.”

His jaw tightened visibly and she knew that she had her answer. He wanted a proper relationship, or at least an attempt at one, and she wasn’t sure they’d ever get past the scars that had already been sliced and badly healed.

“Julian, I’m not sure you will ever trust me how I need to be trusted, and I don’t think I’ll ever quite believe you’re here for any other reason than an unwanted baby. It’s a mess.”

He shook his head, reaching out for her hands, and she let him take them. “What do I need to do to convince you to at least give us a chance?”

She glanced to the side. What would it take for her to trust him again? She had no idea. “There’s lots of things and yet nothing specific. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know how we’re going to work out custody arrangements.”

“Stop talking like that. I don’t want to discuss custody. Forget about the baby, if you can, for one minute. I came back for you, Samara. I waited and waited, hoping you’d call, come visit, anything. Finally, I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I found you. Don’t you understand? I want you!” His eyes were so sincere and his words were every bit as beautiful as she’d imagined in her most secret of fantasies. But how to believe him?

“Julian, I don’t want you to be so closed up and secretive all the time. If there’s even a chance that we could make this work, I need you to open up. Let me know you, how you feel about everything. It’s the only way I’ll allow a relationship to develop.”

He leant forward slowly and pressed his lips to her forehead, sending ripples of soft pleasure out through her body. When he leaned back, his eyes were shadowed but unguarded.

“I’m the man I am, and I know I can be hard to understand. So, I’ll try to give you what you want. I will. That’s all I can promise.”

She sighed and pulled away a little. That was something she supposed.

He lifted a hand and stroked it down her face. “Are you sure there isn’t a short cut to this, Samara? We got along so well in Hawaii.”

Trust the international businessman to want to close the deal early.

“I don’t know, Julian.” She let her gaze meet his again. “Let’s just give it some time… I suppose.”

That’s what they needed… And lots of luck, love, and laughter.

He smiled, not moving to get closer, though a small part of her wished he would. No one had kissed her since their last night together in Hawaii, and her body missed him, craved his touch.

“We have lots of that.”

Julian bought an apartment in Samara’s building a month later and moved in straight away. Leaving his multi-million-dollar apartment in central Manhattan was easier than he’d thought. Cathartic even, to get away from a living space that held nothing but bad memories for him.

He invited Samara to help him decorate the new apartment. The poor thing had been neglected for far too long from people who’d last renovated in the 80’s. He didn’t care how she changed things or what she did. He wouldn’t be living there long. He was on a mission. A life mission. He was building a family, and he didn’t care where he had to live, or what he had to do, to convince Samara that they would be perfect for each other’s futures.

He went along with all of her plans for a second home for their baby, a second nursery, a second bed for him. He had no intentions of living in his apartment building long term. He would buy her a big house opposite central park, or out of town. He didn’t care. As long as that vivacious, fun, sexy woman he knew in Hawaii came back into his life.

Because he missed her, the Samara who had so enchanted him for the two short weeks he’d enjoyed her presence. And he only realized it as she began to re-emerge. When she began to smile, and flirt, and arrange their lives with her concise brain, he fell more in like and lust with her.

He couldn’t admit to himself that it could be more than that, just yet.

Despite Samara’s reticence, he would never give up on them being together and as the days ticked over and they spent more time together, he knew he was doing the right thing. Pursuing the right woman.

“Would you come and meet my parents on the weekend?” he asked her over breakfast one Sunday morning. One of their many rituals.

He was still giving her lots of space to do everything she needed to do, and with his work commitments, he was still flying all over the world. But if he was in New York, he saw her every day. For a meal, a meeting, a chat. He found any excuse to see her, watch his child grow.

They hadn’t even kissed since Hawaii, yet the attraction between them grew by the day. Every smile, every flirt of her eyes sent a shiver of desire through him.

“Ah… I suppose I can. Why? Do they want a run down on the Waikiki project?”

He laughed. Hardly. “Ah, no. My parents want to meet the woman who’s having my baby.”

Samara, who was drinking fresh orange juice, choked and spluttered, orange specks of fruit splattering over the shiny bench top.

Yeah, I felt the same way initially. “What’s wrong?”

Samara picked up a white napkin and wiped at her mouth before cleaning up the juice that surrounded her plate. “I… uh, I hadn’t really thought about your family and how they’d react at the news. What did they say?”

His mother had been interesting indeed. “Well, to start with she was shocked. I have always declared that I would not have children.”

Samara’s eyebrows shot up and her head shook as she took the croissant from the plate in front of her, tearing at the end. “You didn’t tell me you never wanted children.”

He shrugged, belatedly realizing that he may have chosen the wrong thing to tell her out of that conversation with his mother, but he pushed on nonetheless. “Well, to be honest, I think I told them that just to annoy them, on one level. They were so adamant that I produce an heir for them, I just…”

She smiled at him, her eyes lighting up with mischief. “Didn’t want to give them the satisfaction huh?”

“No.”

“Well, what else did they say?” she asked, her posture relaxed now as she ate more of her breakfast.

“They were very happy, actually. Especially when I told them it was you. My mother holds you in high regard. She loves women who are ambitious, and hard working. As I said, they want to meet you.”

“How do they feel about the fact that we aren’t, you know…a couple?”

He grinned and didn’t answer, taking a bite of his own croissant, the melted cheese and ham making his mouth water and a moan escape.

“Julian! Come on! I’m not going if you’re not honest with me.”

He chuckled and prepared to spill his guts, a new and quite strange part of their relationship. “No secrets” was their main rule and so far, they seemed to be doing well with it.

“Honestly? My mother told me to marry you immediately. I told her I’d asked when I first found out and you’d turned me down, and rightly so.”

This caused Samara to sit back and smile at him. “Really?”

“Yes, really. I told her that it was the right thing to do, considering we didn’t know each other very well, but that I was still hoping to convince you to take me on.”

She giggled at that, her cheeks flushing with a beautiful happiness he hadn’t seen in a long time. “Take you on. Please!”

She rubbed her big belly in that gorgeous way she had and lust kicked inside him with a sudden-ness he wasn’t expecting. “Ah… Samara, can I feel it?”

“Oh. Sure.” She swiveled around off her chair and walked around the table to him.

He twisted on his stool and opened his legs, grabbing her and bringing her in.

She came into his arms and the cloud of her subtle lilac perfume teased his nose. He ran his hands up her side and cradled the swollen flesh that held his growing child.

The babe kicked out against his hands, the shifting of the flesh beneath his palms a minor miracle. “I wish I could sleep next to you and feel him through the night.”

“Him, huh?” she asked, her hands stretching up and running her fingers through Julian’s hair.

His breath caught in an odd way and his heart began to pound. God he’d missed her touch. He moved his hands around behind her waist and tugged her tighter.

She stared down at him, and although she didn’t move closer, she didn’t move away. He needed to kiss her, his heart screamed at him to do so. He cupped her jaw in his palm and pulled her closer, the soft skin of her face calling to him to caress and enjoy her.

Her lips touched his with the softness of butter and he groaned as flames licked at his soul. He needed to touch her, if only like this.

He licked at her lips and she opened up for him, a moan rolling through her throat as he delved deeper. Tasting her sweetness.

She pulled back, her breathing rapid. “I’m not ready for this.”

He knew she wasn’t, but he needed more. “I need you, Samara. I know you aren’t ready for sex. But I need to feel you against me. Feel close to you. Would you lie with me? Let me hold you?”

“With clothes on?”

He’d prefer not. “Underwear? I need to feel your skin. Please?”

He hated the tone of begging he could hear in his own words, but as Samara’s face transformed, he no longer regretted the words.

“I’d love that.”

She took his hand and pulled him to her bedroom, the duvet still rumpled from her sleep. “I just got out of here,” she joked while she unwrapped her top and awkwardly undressed.

Julian tugged at his own clothes, shedding everything except his cotton boxers, which were already tenting. He gestured down to his errant body part. “I have no control over him, so I apologize in advance. It’s been a long time for him.”

Samara was covering her belly as though she was self-conscious. “How long’s too long?” She gulped suddenly then shook her head. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I probably don’t want to know.”

He laughed loudly at that one and pulled back the covers, lying down amongst the sweet smell of her skin. “By too long, I mean, since Hawaii.”

It was by far the longest he’d ever gone in his adult life, but something hadn’t been right. He’d dated a few women, tried to convince himself he could go back to his old life, but he hadn’t made it past a single dinner.

She continued to stand and stare so he threw back the covers. “Come on. I need to hold you.” She stood in her tiny pink lacy knickers and a bra that barely contained her swollen breasts. His cock jerked in his shorts just looking at her.

A brilliant smile lit up her face as she sat on the bed, swiveled around, lay down, and shuffled back until she had her gorgeous round arse pressed against his aching cock.

He settled his arm around her belly and kissed the back of her neck. She smelled like flowery soap and home. He closed his eyes and sighed as she nestled into his body.

She pulled his arms tighter around her and placed his hand on her belly, his child shifting and kicking out at him. “He’s so active today.”

She nodded and wiggled her bum into his groin.

Julian’s cock responded with its own wiggle and he groaned. “Hey. You need to stop that. You know how much I desire you.”

“Do you?” she asked, her voice catching in a way that told him how vulnerable she was feeling being with him like this. “I mean…even with this huge belly?”

He could tell her in words how much she meant to him, how beautiful her belly was, but actions spoke much louder. “Samara, seriously? Can’t you feel me?”

He ground his pelvis against her, sliding his rigid staff up and down the crease between her buttocks, the tension against his flesh causing a moan to pass through his lips.

She gasped and pressed back against him and her initial complaints that she wasn’t ready for more, floated right out the window.

Inside his head, Julian was losing the battle. The fight to maintain the distance he’d agreed to. “Samara. If you don’t want me to make love to you, I’m afraid you’re going to have to get up, or kick me out of bed, because I’m about to seduce you.”

He ran the tip of his tongue around her ear for emphasis.

She grabbed his hand that lay on her belly and his chest squeezed tight. Was she really going to kick him out of bed?

Instead, she wriggled even closer, turning around slowly so that she was soon staring up at him, her bright green eyes open and vulnerable. “I want you too. So much, I can’t even explain.”

He dove down on her lips, a groan rolling through him as her unique taste blew apart his senses. “Fuck, I’ve missed you...” he said against her skin.

Her lips parted and he took advantage, letting his tongue dive between her open mouth. Their tongues danced and played and she rolled closer. Julian reached behind her and flicked open her bra with a quick twist of his wrist. He pulled at the lacy confection and pushed it aside, greedily fondling the abundant flesh that had become available to him.

He broke their kiss and pulled away, staring down at the beautiful woman in his arms. Her face flushed with passion, her skin as soft as the skin of a peach.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

“Even with…” She trailed off as she ran a hand over the changes in her body.

“More so. Our baby makes you even more beautiful to me.”

Her eyes glistened. “I’ve never heard you say that before.”

“I know, and I’m sorry I was so against this at the start. I was wrong. You, and this baby, are the best things in my life. I wouldn’t change anything, except I wish I’d known earlier, and I could have shared more of this with you.”

Her gaze dropped away and fear rippled through him. Had he said the wrong thing?

“I’m sorry. I was trying to be honest, if that wasn’t right…”

She shook her head and her hand cupped his jaw as she met his gaze once more. “No, it’s me that is sorry. I should never have kept my pregnancy a secret from you. That was wrong.”

Her lip quivered and he wished all the words away, but he knew it was probably the time that it all came out, finally. “What is done, is done. I don’t care about any of that anymore. I just want us to move forward, as a family. I’m so excited for that, Samara.”

As he said the words that he’d been afraid to say to anyone, even the shrink his mother had forced him to go see, he knew they were true. Samara represented a new chapter, hell, a new book for his life. He’d start everything anew. And he’d do it better.

“Make love to me, Julian. Please.”

The words were his undoing, and he pressed his lips to hers once again. This time they met with tenderness, and understanding, and Julian’s once broken heart sung with joy. This woman was worth loving, worth taking the risk on.

A part of him screamed with the fear of it. He could be wrong. Again.

Samara’s hands clung to his arms and her sweet moan made all thoughts fly from his head.

He broke their kiss and moved down her body. Kissing the rapid pulse at the base of her throat, the line of her sternum between her breasts. Then he lay back and admired her larger breasts, the darkened nipples.

“I can’t wait to see our child suckling from here.” He plumped both breasts with his hands and moved his lips to one taut nipple.

Samara gasped and grabbed the back of his head, holding him tight to her.

He took his time, enjoying the taste of her soft skin in his mouth, the warmth and pleasure radiating off the woman in his arms. He pushed her onto her back, to kiss the darkened line down her belly, loving the idea that his child rippled beneath his lips.

“Turn over for me.”

She stared down at him as he grabbed a hold of her panties and dragged them down her long legs. She was thicker everywhere and he loved how healthy and strong she looked. Perfect for carrying his son. Or daughter.

He stood up, and pushed his own boxers down his hips, his cock bouncing eagerly out in front of him. She slowly began to roll, then get onto all fours.

Staring down her back, he admired the line of her spine, the roundness of her arse. “Damn, you’re sexy from this angle.”

He put his hands on her inner thighs and tapped until she opened wider. He knelt on the floor and used his hands to open her up, until the glistening cleft of her waiting body came into view. “I can’t wait to taste you.”

She gasped and pressed back as he extended his tongue and ran it along the line of wetness.

A moan erupted from Samara’s throat and he responded by moving lower, flicking her clit with his tongue and using his lips to stimulate her. Her moans became a constant, muffled sound as he teased her, kissed her and finally thrust his tongue deep inside of her.

“Ah… oh, God! Julian!”

Julian put his hand on his cock, the tip wet with precum and his balls aching for relief. He stroked himself a few times, the tingles of orgasm already teasing him. Impatience gripped him. He didn’t want to wait a moment longer. Pushing himself to his feet, he grabbed her hips with his hands, pulling her back so that the tip of his cock nudged her swollen folds.

His chest ached with the strength it took to take this slowly. He needed her to know how he felt, but he also desired her so damn much.

“I adore you, Samara, you know that?”

She reached one of her hands back, and linked their fingers at her hip, her breaths coming in pants as her skin glowed with heat. He thrust slowly forward, forcing himself to remember how long it had been for her. For both of them.

Slow down.

Samara’s tight body gripped him like nothing he’d ever felt. He slid home and a tremor of bliss ricocheted all over his body.

Yes. He was home.

He began to move, his body driving him towards the completion it had been starved of for so long. Samara moaned and gasped, squeezing him tight, and he knew she was as tightly wound as he was.

He thrust harder, and faster, tendrils of heat curling inside his belly as his impending orgasm began to tighten his balls.

“Ah... I… Oh, Julian!” Samara began to convulse, her pussy squeezing him tight then rippling around him.

He let go of all control, grabbing her hips hard. He sunk his cock her harder and faster until his orgasm ricocheted through him. White light exploded inside his head and he cried out as his seed pulsed from his cock.

Samara screamed out as she began to come again.

He held on tight as she milked him over and over, her cries pure rapture in his ears.

When Samara finally stopped shuddering and slumped into the bed, he withdrew, and fell forward, landing next to her and pulling her over into his body.

“Wow.” She panted, her eyes closed, her face flushed and glowing.

He kissed the back of her neck and let all the feelings she’d invoked in him rush through him. This was right. She was right. Everything in his world now, was right.

“Thank you.”

He closed his eyes and let the drug like effects of their lovemaking overwhelm his brain and he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face.

Chapter 8

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Samara bounced on her feet in an awkward, heavy dance as they stood outside his parent’s home in New York.

They had a brown stone, three story house that they barely visited, but with their grand-child’s impending arrival, they were currently residing in the same state as he was for once.

The door opened and Charles smiled at him. “Master Julian. So, pleased to see you, sir.”

Julian smiled at the man who his parents dragged all over the world to wait on them, and who never complained. “Hey, Charles. This is Samara. Samara, my parents most trusted man, Charles Werthing.”

They stepped into the house with Samara and Charles exchanging pleasantries.

He took Samara’s coat and she shook off the snow that had fallen on them in the short walk from the car to the house. “Goodness it’s cold.”

“This way.” He took Samara’s hand and led her into his parent’s main living room where they sat in front of the fire. The opulence of the room made him inwardly laugh. Compared to his half-renovated apartment, and Samara’s gorgeous little home, this mansion was outdated and stodgy.

“Julian.” His father greeted him with a nod and extended his hand.

“Father.” He shook his dad’s hand, feeling Samara’s keen eyes watching him. His heart stumbled a little and yet he was determined to be open with her. About what sort of family she was entering, and to give her some background on why he was who he was.

His mother finally stood up from her comfortable chair and approached them, her too tiny body making her look like one of those bobble-headed dolls.

You can never be too rich, or too thin… Yeah right.

“Julian, I’m glad you’ve finally brought Samara to meet us.” Her displeasure couldn’t be hidden in her tone, nor her words, and Samara the people pleaser jumped to fill the sudden void in the conversation.

“It’s lovely to be here, Mrs. King.”

“Well, let’s sit down.”

He took her hand again and pulled her on to the couch with him, his parents sitting in their usual chairs. There was more silence and Julian struggled to find a topic that wouldn’t set off one of his parents.

Samara shifted forward on her chair. “How is the Hawaii Hotel faring? Have either of you visited it since the summer?”

His parent’s faces scowled in unison.

“No, the humidity in Hawaii is terrible. We never visit that hotel,” his mother said.

His father’s gaze flicked to Julian. “That hotel was Julian’s responsibility.”

The weight of the words hung heavy in the room and Julian struggled to bite back the anger. He’d worked very hard over the past six months to right all the wrongs. Set the hotels, and their company, back on its feet.

And he’d heard from a private investigator that they’d found the embezzling, arse hole of a manager and were working on getting him deported. That would be a great day indeed.

“Yes, it was my responsibility and still is. The hotel is doing very well now.”

“Yes, thanks to Samara’s help. I was right to hire her,” his mother said to him as she lifted her nose several inches in the air.

“You were, Mother. She was a great help.” He stared back at her, strange ripples of bad feelings pulling at his nerves.

He’d become very good at schooling his features so that he didn’t give his parent’s the satisfaction of knowing he’d been hurt by their callous words. He’d tried so hard to win back their trust, if he’d ever had it in the first place. Perhaps their respect would never be possible.

Samara’s hand slid onto his knee and warmth infiltrated the coldness spreading through him like a cancer, the sunlight pushing back the darkness threatening to over whelm him.

“Well, I for one am extremely grateful for the fact that you called me, Mrs. King. I would never have met this wonderful son of yours, and I wouldn’t have this incredible baby growing inside of me.”

The happiness and dancing cadence of her voice made all three of them turn to look at her. Julian stared in wonder, the love that he’d sensed growing inside of him blossoming into a full bloom. She was incredible.

“When are you due, Samara?” His mother asked.

“The fifth of September, but I’ve been told any time after next week, really.”

Samara rubbed her belly and sat smiling at his parents, who struggled to look at her and make polite conversation.

Would they bring up a lack of marriage, or would his parents be able to restrain themselves?

“Our son tells us that you have no interest in marriage,” his father said, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Right on cue.

“Father!” Julian growled in warning, but Samara squeezed his thigh.

“It’s alright. To answer your question, no I’m not interested in marriage, at the moment. I think I would look ridiculous in a wedding dress.”

She grinned and Julian’s heart tugged hard in his chest.

“Does that mean that marriage is not out of the question? Because for our part, I would like to see our son settled with a wife and child as soon as possible.”

Samara grinned at his parents, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “But he was married, and that ended horribly. Why would you want to do that to him again?”

His mother scoffed with disfavor. “That was not a woman you marry. How he ever thought she was respectable, I will never know. You on the other hand are as different from her as summer is from winter.”

Julian stared at his mother, a lump forming in his throat. “Why didn’t you say anything back then?”

His mother sighed. “Because… How will I put this? She had you by the balls, and wasn’t letting go. I knew that the harder I pushed her away, the tighter you’d cling to her. So, I sat back and hoped she’d show her true colors before she got herself pregnant, and she did.”

There was a satisfied smirk to his mother’s lips that he’d rarely seen and he found himself smiling.

“Well, thank you for the insight, Mother. I believe I’ve chosen correctly this time.”

Samara scoffed beside him. “Chose me, huh? I think the Universe had everything to do with this, not you and your, ‘I am the master of my own destiny’, attitude.”

He turned on the couch and stared at her. “Samara, you know I don’t believe in that stuff.”

She twisted to look at him also, her fingers intertwining with his and gripping hard, the connection between them flowing like electricity. “Really? Well, what do you call it when I’d sworn off work for the year, but got pulled into your mother’s offer because of my parent’s debts? I got pregnant in a situation which should have been practically impossible.” She stared at him and he remembered the hasty pull out in a pool. Yes, definitely low odds, even taking out the fact that she was practically infertile. “Then we have a love affair, break it off, then you hunt me down, which I bet you’ve never done in your life. Gone after a woman who rejected you.”

He heard his parent’s strange gasps, but he kept focusing on the woman in front of him.

“You…may have a point there.”

“I do. So, don’t sit there and believe this isn’t meant to be. It is.” She nodded once at him, her face strangely serious, then turned back to his parents.

The rest of the visit passed quickly and Julian couldn’t stop thinking about everything she’d said. Did Samara really believe they were meant to be?

They finished their drinks with his parents, rugged up against the New York winter, and ran back to his waiting town car.

“Seriously. I can’t wait to get home.” Samara shivered against him and slid into his side, pressing as close as she could. “Your parents are so cold! Worse than this snow practically.”

He wrapped his arm around her and squeezed. “I told you they weren’t exactly your type of people.”

“Now I know why you don’t have a good relationship with them. They’d be impossible to keep happy.”

“They are.”

He held her tight and finally pulled away, his brain whirling around in a massive tornado of words as it struggled to comprehend everything she’d said. “Hey, Samara, did you mean what you said in there?”

She turned to look at him. “I usually mean what I say, but I was being a bit forceful at times, because of how odd your parents were being. Which bit do you mean?”

The words tangled on his tongue and he struggled to get them out. She waited and he was grateful for that. “The bit about us being meant for each other.”

She glanced down and away, toying with her coat with her slender fingers. “Well…sort of. Why?”

He reached over and cupped her jaw, drawing her face back to look at him. “Why? Because I want to marry you. If you love me, and I love you, why shouldn’t we share everything that is possible for us to share?”

Her beautiful blue eyes went wide as she stared at him. She wasn’t saying anything and his belly sunk with the realization that she may not have meant that much.

“What’s wrong, Samara?”

“Did you just say that you love me?”

If he’d been a cartoon, someone may as well have come along and banged him on the head with a frying pan. Had he said that? Why, yes he had. “Yes.”

He waited, unsure on where this would go or how she felt about him. On uncertain ground for one of the first times in his life, he waited, as the driver took them through the crowded streets of Manhattan.

Tears leaked from Samara’s eyes and she grabbed for a tissue, wiping them away. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She sobbed, her face going as red as her coat.

He grabbed her hands and stared into her eyes. He’d never proposed with anything other than the baby on his mind. Perhaps it was time to tell her that things had change, he’d changed. And there was no going back.

“Samara Jenkins. You are the most courageous, fun, crazy, beautiful woman I have ever met. I am so proud to have you by my side, the mother of my child.” He paused to run a hand over his growing babe. “Please, not because you’re having my baby, but because I love you. Marry me.”

More tears streaked down her face as her lips turned up into a brilliant smile.

“Yes. Of course yes. I love you too!” She launched herself at him in true Samara style and kissed him, her lips tasting of salty tears.

He licked them all away and said a silent prayer to the Universe that Samara so believed in. When he could breathe he pressed the button to communicate with his driver.

“To Tiffany’s, Drake. We have a ring to buy.”

Samara snuggled into. “You don’t have to do that. I have everything I could ever want, right here.”

She put one hand to her bump and the other to his cheek, and he grinned. And because she didn’t care, he knew, it was even more important to spoil her.

“I know that. But you deserve the best of everything. Starting with the most beautiful engagement ring we can find.”

“And ending with?” she teased, pulling him down on top of her.

“As many babies as you want.”

The tears welled up and she blinked, making them flow down the side of her face.

He knew her now.

“I love you, Samara. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life making you happy.

Epilogue

18 months later.

Samara caressed the small swell of her new baby beneath the satin of her fitted, white wedding dress. When she’d planned her ceremony and picked out her slim line gown, she hadn’t thought she’d be pregnant for the second time.

“Are you ready, my girl?” her father asked, stepping up next to her and holding out his arm. His face beamed with pride and her heart swelled with the knowledge that her beloved parents adored Julian.

“Yes. Most definitely.”

She took her father’s arm in the lobby of the hotel she’d help rise from the ashes.

The marble floor shone and there was a general happy buzz all around her from the many staff and all the people currently visiting the old dame of a hotel.

Her father marched forward and they began to walk outside, the automatic doors opening smoothly making her smile. Such a small thing, but it really did make such a difference.

The bright sunshine shone on their faces, the once dreaded humidity wrapping around her and making her grin. They walked across the main road and as she approached the large group of people gathered for them, she slipped out of her shoes as she stepped onto the sand, her wedding party set up before her.

A hundred people stood on the golden dune, staring at her and as she looked back, her heart began to gallop in her chest. She’d waited for this moment for so long, and it was finally here.

Separating the wedding guests was a long red carpet, leading up to the man she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

“Last time to turn back, my girl,” her dad whispered at her as she took a deep breath, her heart continuing to flip flop in her chest.

She whispered back at him, “Hurry up, Dad, or he might change his mind!”

Her dad chuckled in good humor, because they both knew that wasn’t happening any time soon, and together they began the slow walk down the aisle.

Soft music played as her bare feet touched the carpet and she stared at the place her husband should be. He stepped out of the crowd and suddenly, there he was. Julian. Holding their son in his arms, their proud little ring bearer.

Julian had been a better partner and father than she’d ever imagined. He had turned around everything in their lives. And now, after waiting longer than they’d both wanted to, they would be husband and wife.

Her dad stopped, lifted up her veil, his eyes suspiciously shiny as he kissed her cheek and handed her over to Julian.

She turned to look at the man in the expensive suit. A man who’d taken her breath away the moment she saw him, and hadn’t stopped doing so ever since.

“You look so beautiful,” he said, smiling at her in that way where she could see the love that shone from his eyes. Yet there was a kink to his mouth that made her think that he was imagining taking this dress off her later.

They turned toward the ocean, the celebrant standing beneath a canopy.

“Dear friends and family, we are gathered here today…”

The celebrant’s word faded into the back ground as Thomas, her son, walked around to her side, clinging to her left hand as Julian held on to her right. Her family.

She had everything she’d ever wanted and it had all begun here. Her miracle in Hawaii.

About the Author

Fiona Miers has a super busy life, like most modern women, but always finds time for reading and writing romance. Her love affair with the romance genre started when she was only 11 years old, when her mother, and nana, handed her, her first mills and boon.

Since then she's built her own business, become a mother to two beautiful little girls, and fallen in love with the most spectacular man on the planet. (JMHO)

Fiona writes MF contemporary and historical romance, writing more erotic stories under the pen name Tamsin Baker.

Thank you for reading this, and hopefully you'll love reading about her characters as much as she loved creating them.

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/fiona.miersauthor

Email: fiona.miers@gmail.com

Perfectly Skeptical

A Perfectly Series Novella

Linda O’Connor

Dr. Brianna Scott looked forward to sleeping away her staycation, until a lucky windfall meant an upgrade to palm trees, an ocean view . . . and the sexy Dr. Matt Gaelen. She’ll play and have fun, but can a holiday fling really turn into a soul mate for life? Doubtful.

Matt has no radar for sniffing out gold-diggers and protecting his heart. Until now. Brianna is more turned off than turned on by his wealth. What are his chances of getting her to overlook it? Dubious at best.

Improbable and uncertain, iffy and unlikely – the typical path to love.

Perfectly Skeptical . . . love when you least expect it.

A Note from Linda

Welcome to the Perfectly Series!

I’m delighted to share this Perfectly novella with you! I wrote the Perfectly Series because I love escaping into romantic comedies. The setting of the Perfectly stories spans from a mid-sized city to two smaller towns nearby, and the characters range from doctors to painters (and a doctor who paints :D). There are twists and turns to keep it fun, and there’s a bit of medical know-how thrown in, too. Laugh, love, and learn!

The six stories in the Perfectly Series are full-length, stand-alone stories. Reading them in order isn’t necessary, but if you do, it’ll keep you in the loop. And for more Perfectly fun – character interviews, recipes, medical myth busters – visit my website www.lindaoconnor.net.

I hope you enjoy a taste of the Perfectly Series with this novella!

Laugh every day. Love every minute.

Linda

OTHER BOOKS IN THE PERFECTLY SERIES

Perfectly Honest

Perfectly Reasonable

Perfectly Planned

Perfectly Unpredictable

Perfectly Christmas

Perfectly Together

Perfectly Skeptical (Perfectly Series novella)

Perfectly Crazy in Love (Perfectly Series novella)

Chapter 1

Dr. Brianna Scott snipped the last suture and set the needle driver and forceps on the tray. “All done,” she said to the elderly gentleman lying on the stretcher. “We’ll need to see you back in a week to take those stitches out, but it was a nice clean cut, so it should heal well.” She took off her gloves and threw them in the trash. “I’ll send the nurse in with a tetanus shot.”

“Ah, doc, is that really necessary? Surely at my age …”

“If you’re young enough to play in the dirt, you still have to be concerned about tetanus.”

He smiled wryly. “I do love my garden.”

She squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll see you in a week.”

She spoke to the nurse and then went to a quiet spot in the busy emergency department to make a note in his chart. She signed it and looked at the stack of charts for patients still waiting to be seen. It was going to be a long night.

Before she headed to the next in line, she checked her phone. Her new countdown app was great. Six days, twenty-one hours, and forty-two minutes until she was off on vacation. Three weeks of sleeping in, napping, and going to bed early. She couldn’t wait.

“Miss Brie, come on over here and buy yourself one of these lottery tickets. The draw’s tomorrow.”

Brianna looked at Maisy James, the charge nurse, thirty years her senior, and her favorite person at Rivermede General Hospital. “Sweet Maisy, I can’t afford to gamble my money away. A hundred dollars a pop is completely out of my price range.” She wished she were kidding. But she wasn’t. Four years of undergrad, four years of medical school, and another two for the family medicine residency left her drowning under a hundred thousand dollar debt. Her credit line was maxed out, and she still needed to scrape up a thousand dollars for the last set of qualifying exams coming up in May.

“Oh, but I got a good feeling about this one, Miss Brie. And all the money raised goes back to the hospital. If you think of it, it’s goin’ right back to payin’ you.”

Brianna smiled. “Good sales pitch, young Maisy, but I dunno …” She was already skimping on meals and was down to two a day. She couldn’t get any leaner.

“How about we split it? You pay fifty, I’ll pay fifty, and if we win, we’ll split the prize.”

“Saw the car in half?”

“Hah, you can drive it in the winter, and I’ll take it in the summer,” Maisy said with a grin. “I’ve got my eye on the five chances to win big money. I could do a thing or two with that. The first on the list would be a kitchen upgrade. Think about what you could do with two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.”

Brianna snorted. “Pay off my student loan.”

“Yup, and then some. You could take a trip to a hot island and meet up with a sexy beach bum.”

Brianna laughed. “Is that your fantasy or mine?”

“If it ain’t yours, it should be.”

“Sleeping in a hammock under palm trees sounds idyllic, but I could do without the male companion. I’ve got exams coming up in three months. The last time I tried to study and balance a relationship, I almost failed. I don’t need that again.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? I’m thinking more of a … tropical tryst to get you through the home stretch. Nothin’ like a little spring fling to get the blood flowing and the hormones surging,” Maisy said with a wink.

Brianna stared at her. “Yeah, thanks. I think I’ll just slog through it with caffeine.”

“You’re just worried he’ll leave sandy footprints on your floors.”

That and a bruised heart, making it impossible to concentrate and study. “You know me too well.”

“Here’s my advice. Life’s short, so fill it to the brim. Don’t just live a little. Live a lot. If a hot hunk comes your way, and he ain’t married and he don’t have nail fungus, you just jump his bones and have some fun.”

“Oh my god, saucy Maisy. I wish you were forty years younger so you could lead the way.”

“Get behind me, brave Brie.” Maisy grabbed the next chart and nudged her in the shoulder. “Better yet, step ahead of me. I’ll buy the ticket.”

Brianna watched Maisy walk away with a sway to her hips. Oh, to have that swagger. She’d have to work on it.

The rest of the night went by in a blur. She checked urines, listened to chests, zapped an atrial arrhythmia, and ran two cardiac arrests under the supervision of the emergency staff doctor. By the time her shift finished at eight a.m., she was too tired to make one more decision. The only good thing was that she was now six days, seven hours, and twelve minutes away from three weeks of staycation bliss.

She bundled up in a hat, mitts, and scarf and trudged along the snowy sidewalks to her apartment. She changed into pajamas and brushed her teeth without eating breakfast. A few more pennies saved. The skies were gray, but she pulled the blinds to darken her room and crawled into bed. If she could get seven hours of uninterrupted sleep, she could recharge before her next shift that night. And she’d be only five days, twenty-three hours, and thirty-three minutes away from no responsibility for three heavenly weeks.

Six hours later, Brianna surfaced from a deep sleep with the incessant buzz of her phone. She groaned. She had forgotten to turn it off. Grumbling, she padded into the front hall where she’d left it.

“Pack your bags, Miss Brie. You are off to the sunny south.”

“Hey, chirpy Maisy. I hope that’s not your way of luring me to work early. If it’s not an emergency, I’m going back to bed.”

“Oh, you’ll want to be up for this. We won! We won the five-hundred-thousand-dollar prize. Little ol’ you and me.” Maisy laughed gaily.

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I am most certainly not. I will be shopping for new kitchen cabinets this afternoon, and you, Miss Brie, need to pick a tropical destination. Sun, sand, and surf await you.”

And sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. “I can’t believe it. Thank you, lucky Maisy, for insisting I buy a ticket. I wouldn’t have, on my own.” She paused, remembering. “Are you sure you want to share?”

Maisy didn’t hesitate. “No question. It multiplies the joy. You could’ve said no, but you didn’t. It’s rightfully yours.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “It couldn’t have come at a better time.” Student loans, the cost of the exam, setting up a practice … the win would ease the burden of the big-ticket items looming in the near future. But spending it on a holiday? Seemed frivolous and self-indulgent. She bit her lip. “I don’t know if I can blow it on a vacation, as wonderful as that sounds. I should probably put the money in the bank.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Maisy said firmly. “Brie, you need to get away.” Her voice softened. “I’ve been worried about you. You’re getting too thin, you look worn out, and you’ve lost that sparkle in your eye. You need a real vacation, and now you can afford it. It doesn’t have to be expensive, but there’s to be no doctoring, no studying, no Wi-Fi, no worrying. Just surf and sleep. Promise me.”

Brianna sniffled. “I promise, kind Maisy,” she whispered. “I’ll book it today.”

Chapter 2

Brianna rolled over and pulled the light blanket up to her chin. The sound of the ocean waves outside her window lulled her back to sleep. She woke much later to the sweet scent of oleander and the late afternoon sun peeking into her room.

She should get up, but wasn’t it bliss that she didn’t have to? She had arrived on Little Cayman Island two days ago and had slept for most of it.

She yawned and stretched, feeling more rested than she’d been since her last vacation a hazy two years ago. A spark of excitement had her sitting up, and she jumped out of bed to look out the window. Stunning. Pink sand, turquoise water, a gentle breeze stirring the leaves of half a dozen palm trees, and a very inviting-looking hammock steps from her door. And she had another sixteen days to soak it all in.

In the end, she’d chosen to go to Little Cayman. It wasn’t the cheapest island getaway out there, but after she’d paid off her student debt, she’d still had a tidy little sum of money from the lottery winnings. She’d decided to take Maisy’s advice and splurge. Little Cayman was exactly what she wanted – seclusion and quiet. She had her own private villa right on the beach. For the next sixteen days, her biggest decision would be whether to go snorkeling, bike riding, or bird watching. Her stomach grumbled, but she ignored it. The ocean water shimmered in the fading sunlight, and it looked too inviting to resist. She’d go for a quick dip first and then see about dinner.

She changed into her bikini and tied a sarong around her waist. Beach towels, in a variety of colors, were stacked neatly on a shelf. She chose a happy yellow, slipped her feet into a pair of sandals, and headed out the front door.

She stopped in her tracks and squealed, almost bumping into a man standing on her porch. He put out his hand to steady her.

“Oh my god, you scared me,” she said, taking a deep breath.

Laughing blue eyes looked back at her. “Sorry about that. I was about to knock, but you beat me to it.” His eyes swept the length of her. “I was sent to see how you’re doing.”

Brianna stiffened. “I’m fine. Why?” She hadn’t advertised she was going away. Her parents and Maisy were the only ones who knew where she was.

“You haven’t been out and about.”

Who’s keeping tabs? And who would send this dark-haired, all muscle, all-male hunk with the relaxed island smile and disarming blue eyes? Not her parents, that’s for sure. Maisy? It was entirely possible. Maisy’s reach was surprisingly long.

Don’t live a little. Live a lot. Maisy, you’re a cheeky devil, sending a male escort. He looked at her with a patient smile, waiting for her to catch up. Something about a tropical paradise and his sexy bod made her consider. Brianna narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you married?”

“Nope.”

“Do you have nail fungus?”

He blinked and his smile faltered. “No. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m feeling great.” She stepped closer to him. His eyes darkened. He didn’t step away. What the hell – she could play this game. Be cool. Fake nonchalance. Cultivate some of that swagger that came so easily to Maisy. Her heart pounded, but he didn’t need to know.

She went on her toes and brushed her lips against his. When he responded and took control, Brianna felt a tingle from her head to her toes. She pressed closer and felt the hard muscle of his chest through the thin shirt he wore. He caressed the bare skin of her back and skimmed her waist. She opened her mouth to take him deeper and their tongues danced. This wasn’t the kiss of a boy. This was the kiss of experience. Maybe Maisy had it right – if you were going to play, you might as well play with top-of-the-line equipment.

He brushed his thumb across the exposed skin of her breast, and she sighed. It’d been a while, but she was primed and ready. She felt herself go moist.

He ran his hands down her arms and then gripped them gently and pushed her away, breaking off the kiss. Brianna raised startled eyes to his and made a noise in protest.

“I’m sorry.” He stepped back, putting more distance between them, and cleared his throat. “I think you have the wrong idea. I’m Matt Gaelen. Dr. Matt Gaelen.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Jerome and Maria were worried because you hadn’t shown up at the restaurant, so they asked me to come and check on you.”

“Jerome and Maria. Owners of the villas?”

“Yes.”

Uh-oh. “You weren’t sent by Maisy?”

“No, I don’t know a Maisy.” He grinned. “Though I wish I did.”

She felt a flush rise on her cheeks. So much for living it up. “I’m very sorry,” she said stiffly. “That was a misunderstanding.” She grimaced. “It won’t happen again.” She’d stay well and truly hidden under a rock of mortification.

He raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m happy to see you’re fine. Better than fine.” He smiled. “I’ll let them know.” He turned and jogged down the steps. And then he stopped and looked back. “But it does seem a shame that it won’t happen again.”

Brianna blew out a breath and watched him go. He had a very fine ass. And she felt like a very fine ass. What had she done? That wasn’t embarrassing. She cringed. This was precisely why she wanted solitude and privacy. Luckily, there hadn’t been anyone around to witness her making a fool of herself. That was one for the vault. She shook her head at herself and picked up her towel. The light was fading, but she still had time for a quick dip to cool off.

Let that be a lesson learned – well two, really: don’t jump to conclusions, and Dr. Matt Gaelen is an excellent kisser.

Chapter 3

Brianna waded out through the surf to her waist and then dove into a wave, loving the feel of the warm water against her skin. She swam out until her arms complained and then stopped and treaded water. Floating in the rise and fall of the waves, she watched as lights came on in the other villas along the shore. The light was fading and she knew she shouldn’t dawdle, but the view was breathtaking.

She swam back and stopped on the beach to pick up a shell. Pink and delicate, it would remind her of how lucky she was to be there. She wrapped herself in the towel and carried her sandals in her hand. Back at her villa, she brushed the sand off her feet as best she could, but the combination of sticky sand and damp skin made it hard.

She wasn’t a neat freak, exactly, but from the teasing she’d endured in the emergency department, apparently she was a little more particular than most. She winced. Maisy might’ve been kidding about her aversion to sand on the floor, but it was not unreasonable. Really, who wanted little bits of rock ground into the carpets, harboring who knew what? Sand was, in fact, crushed shells of living animals. Hardly sanitary. She contemplated walking into the villa with sand on her feet … for about three seconds. Couldn’t do it.

She shook out the towel, laid it on the floor, and shimmied to a storage closet beside the kitchen just inside the front door. A shallow plastic pail would work. She filled it at the sink and took it back outside to scrub the sand off her feet. How easy was that? Maria and Jerome would appreciate her thoughtfulness. She’d leave the pail on her porch for next time.

She showered, changed into a sundress, and brushed her hair outside, letting it dry in the warm breeze. Now she was famished and ready to eat.

The walkway in front of her villa wound around the back, through a well-manicured garden with low shrubs and brilliant pink bougainvillea. The path meandered past mature coconut trees and forked at a thatch palm tree, its huge leaves spread out in a fan. She followed her nose to the right, a spicy aroma leading her to an open-air restaurant.

Jerome and Maria stood at the entrance, and they beamed welcoming smiles as she walked closer.

“Miss Scott, we’re so happy to see you,” Jerome said as he reached for her hand and pumped it.

“Please call me Brianna.” The husband and wife could be twins. With round faces, sun-kissed skin, and lines of laughter around their eyes, they were short and sweet.

“We were so worried about you,” Maria said, walking around the counter and wrapping Brianna in a hug. She stepped back and eyed Brianna with a tilt to her head. “But I hear we didn’t need to be concerned.” She sang the last few words.

Brianna shook her head and gave an embarrassed laugh. “No, I’m fine. I was sleeping off a few weeks’ worth of fatigue.”

“So much time in bed. Guess you get tired of being there alone,” Jerome said with a chuckle.

Maria poked him in the ribs. “Never you mind,” she said to Brianna. “You’re here to relax.” She leaned closer. “Though I will say, Dr. Matt’s a cagey one. Fine dining if you can get it, though. If I were twenty years younger …”

“Hey, I heard that,” Jerome said, putting his hands on his hips.

Maria laughed. “Ah, I’m just kidding.” She turned her back on Jerome and mouthed, “Not really.”

Brianna laughed, and Maria linked their arms. “I like you. Come on, you must be hungry. Let me show you to a table.”

Maria led her through the packed restaurant. A big ceiling fan overhead stirred the air. Low candles in glass jars flickered on the light wooden tables. The chairs were a mismatch of bright orange, green, and yellow, making the atmosphere festive and casual. Glasses clinked above the din of conversation that was punctuated with bursts of laughter. Maria stopped in front of a table with five young people enjoying drinks, and Brianna tugged her arm. “Maria, I can’t just join another table,” she whispered frantically.

“Sure you can. You don’t want to eat alone, do you?” She turned to the table. “Hey everyone, meet Brianna.” As the group chorused hello, Maria reached for a nearby chair and dragged it over. The men at the head of the table stood up and shifted their chairs to make space.

Brianna’s heart sank when she recognized Matt. “Hi,” she said weakly.

Maria gave her a big smile. “Your server will be over shortly. Bon appetit.”

“Sorry to crash your party,” Brianna said as she slowly took her seat.

“Not at all,” said the man to her right. “Welcome. We haven’t ordered yet, so it’s perfect timing.” He held out his hand. “I’m Jim, by the way.” He sat down and put his arm around the woman beside him. “This is Emma, my wife.” He kissed her quickly on the lips. “I love saying that. It’s still new.” He pointed to the others in turn. “Ava, Kirk, and Matt.”

Brianna murmured hello to each person as she was introduced and then reluctantly looked at Matt. “Hi, again.”

Matt smiled. “Good to see you up and about. You look rested.”

“Yeah. Even managed to go for a dip in the ocean. It was wonderful.”

“Just watch the undertow. It got me once or twice,” Emma added.

They had a lively discussion, and Brianna’s embarrassment with Matt subsided as the topic focused on where to go for the best swimming, hiking, and snorkeling. Jim and Emma had just spent a week on their honeymoon and were heading home the following day. Ava and Kirk were siblings. Kirk managed the grocery/pharmacy/hardware store, and Ava taught at the only elementary school on the island. She had eighteen students ranging from grades one to eight. “And half of them were delivered by Matt’s uncle,” Ava said with a laugh.

“We do what we can to keep the population growing,” Matt said.

“Me too,” added Kirk with a wink.

Ava shook her head at him. “With your track record with women, I think you mean you do what you can to keep the population from growing.”

They shared a laugh, and over fish tacos Brianna learned that two years ago Matt had taken over the medical practice when his uncle retired and that he was the only doctor on Little Cayman. Between the locals and the tourists, he was kept busy enough. When the others raved about the state-of-the-art facility, she almost asked to have a tour, but in the end she kept quiet. Her job hadn’t come up yet, and the idea was to take a break from medicine.

They finished their meal with coffee and liqueurs. A band set up, and when the music became lively, the women headed to the small makeshift dance floor in the center of the restaurant.

Jim excused himself to go to the men’s room, and Kirk turned to Matt. “So, mystery solved.”

Matt glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve only been here a handful of times in the last year. I was a bit surprised when you showed up tonight.” He nodded toward Brianna. “Now I see why.”

Matt watched Brianna move to the music, her hair flying, her face flushed. “I met her earlier today. Jerome and Maria mentioned that they hadn’t seen her for a couple of days and asked me to check on her.”

Kirk rocked back in his chair. “Oh, this is going to be good.” He rubbed his hands together. “So you showed up tonight on the off chance she’d be here. You’ve got it bad.”

“I just met her.”

“Even worse.” Kirk hooted. “Matt Gaelen has met his match.”

Matt shook his head at him and smiled. “Maybe I was worried about her.”

“Huh. Right. The caveman is out of his cave. There’s got to be a damn good reason for it.” He dropped down on his chair and leaned forward. “So what’s your plan? You just going to drop that you’re worth millions and reel her in?”

The smile disappeared from Matt’s face.

“Sorry, man. That was out of line.”

He wasn’t usually so transparent. “No, no. I get it. It’s a big draw.”

“Hey, I was kidding. You’ve got a lot more going for you than your money. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Matt downed the last of his liqueur. No, he didn’t know. What was he doing? His wealth would always overshadow everything else. It had in the past, it would in the future. And he was tired of getting burned.

“Not everyone is like Hannah.” Kirk gave him a sidelong glance.

“Really? Because it seems like I attract the Hannah’s of this world.” Not that he’d many relationships, but Hannah’s stung. He hadn’t seen it coming. He’d trusted her.

“It’s been close to two years. Time to move on,” Kirk said quietly. “They’re not all gold diggers.” He nodded toward the dance floor. Brianna and Ava laughed their way through a choreographed dance move. “Some of them have a heart of gold.”

“The question is how can you tell which is which?” He asked it lightly, trying to mask the hurt. So far his track record of sorting out the two had been dismal.

“You should do an experiment,” Kirk said. “Hide it from her. Sidestep any conversations about money and downplay your role in the company. Better yet, tell her you’re not that Matt Gaelen.”

Matt snorted. “Great plan. Lying is a great way to get a relationship off the ground. And since my picture and net worth are plastered all over the latest Forbes magazine, I don’t think that’d work.”

Kirk nodded reluctantly. “Okay, okay.” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it. Come up with three questions that would sort out whether she’s after your money. Like an interview, but more subtle. Ask the questions. If she gets them right, you’ll know she sees the real you. She gets them wrong, you dump her.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Now I know why you’re still single.”

“No really, it’s a great plan. You’re reading people all the time, and I’ve seen you tear someone to shreds at a business meeting. You, of all people, could do this. Do some research. Could be the questions are already out there, with evidence-based science behind it. Your forté” he said, raising his hand for emphasis.

“Sounds crazy.”

Kirk shrugged. “It’s simple – separate the wheat from the chaff. It’s worth a try, unless you have a better idea, hot shot.” He sipped his drink. “Of course, if you’re not interested, I’d be happy to keep her entertained.”

Matt growled.

Kirk raised his glass. “Three questions.”

Chapter 4

The music slowed and couples filled the dance floor. A guy Matt didn’t recognize asked Brianna to dance. Matt tolerated it for about forty seconds and then walked over and cut in. Brianna looked at him in surprise. Matt ignored it. It was bad enough that Kirk saw through him, and this raw attraction, this pull he found hard to resist, wasn’t something he could explain. He had a red light blinking danger in his head, but he couldn’t heed the warning. There was something about her – stunning good looks and a mixture of intelligence and laughter in those green eyes. He couldn’t walk away if he tried.

“Great band,” Matt said as he held her. Her hair, a sun-kissed blonde, smelled like sweet raspberries. “They’ve played a lot on Grand Cayman, but this is their first gig here.” Her hand in his was small and soft.

“I love their music. They play the perfect mix of covers and original songs. And they look like they’re having so much fun up there.”

He’d been watching her for the last hour and already knew she had a great sense of rhythm. But holding her close, her hips swaying to the beat, took sexy to the next level. She fit against him, almost at eye level.

The song ended and they drew apart. The band took a bow, and the restaurant started closing for the night.

“I can walk you back to your villa if you like,” Matt offered.

Brianna hesitated. She scanned his face, and then her shoulders relaxed. “Thanks. That’d be nice.”

They said their good-byes to Jim and Emma and wished them a safe journey home. Outside, Ava and Kirk peeled off in the opposite direction with a wave.

“Do you have any plans for tomorrow?” Matt asked as they strolled along the pathway.

“Not at all. Sleep in, maybe read a book in the hammock. And swim in the ocean.” She smiled. “Pretty mundane.”

“Exactly what a holiday is all about. You should definitely fit in some snorkeling or diving while you’re here. It’s the best in the world.”

“Maybe. Isn’t scuba diving pretty risky?”

“It can be. If you’ve never done it, you’d have to take a lesson or two and go with an experienced crew.”

“Do you dive?”

“I do, but when I’m working there’s always the odd chance I might have to air-lift a patient to the mainland. Generally the helicopters stay fairly low, but it’s always a risk to fly after a dive. So unless I’m off for a couple of days, I stick to snorkeling. Floating on the surface is a lot safer,” he said with a smile.

“Sounds more like my speed.”

They rounded the corner to Brianna’s villa. Matt debated his next move. The warning bell in his head cautioned him to slow down, walk away. It was too quick. He didn’t really know who she was. She didn’t seem to recognize him, and he was headed for the inevitable heartache when she did.

But he couldn’t leave it. How would he ever find out? He had to – wanted to – spend more time with her. “Would you like to try it tomorrow afternoon? There’s a spot off a pier not too far from here with excellent snorkeling. I could take you.”

She grinned and nodded. “I’d like that.” They stopped in front of her villa. “Would I be able to rent equipment?”

“Yes, easily. You don’t need much. Talk to Jerome and Maria. They might even have some they could lend you.”

“Okay, great.” She hesitated and then turned to face him. “Look, I just want to make sure you don’t have the wrong idea about me. I know I came on a little strong earlier.” She grimaced. “That’s not really who I am. So if you’re expecting more of that, we should say good-bye now.”

“That wasn’t you I kissed?”

She grinned wryly. “It was me,” she said with a sigh. “Can’t say I’m proud of it, though.”

He tried not to laugh at her embarrassment. “You should be. You definitely should be.”

She shook her head and chuckled. “Thank you. Right back at you.” She cleared her throat. “But kissing and,” – she waved her hand – “shenanigans are not part of the deal. Just to be clear.”

“Got it. No shenanigans.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“No. Well, maybe a little.” He laughed out loud. “But I promise I hear you. I can come by tomorrow at three, if that works.”

“Sounds per–” Brianna glanced behind him at her porch and jumped back with a scream. “What is that?”

Matt turned quickly and moved his body to screen her. He relaxed when he saw what she pointed at. “That would be an iguana, a Lesser Caymans iguana, to be exact.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “He’s harmless.”

“It’s enormous.” She shuddered. “How do I get rid of it?”

“You just have to shoo it away.” He climbed up the steps, and at a sweep of his hand, the iguana darted away.

Brianna gave a strangled sound and scooted closer to Matt. “Oh my god.” She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Do they always come so close?”

Matt pointed to the pail on the porch. “If you leave a water bowl out, it will.”

Brianna huffed out a breath. “It’s a foot bath to wash the sand off my feet.”

Matt tilted his head. “And an open invitation for iguanas. You might want to rethink that.” He picked up the container and dumped the contents in the sand. “If it’s any consolation, it’s probably more afraid of you than you are of it.”

“I doubt it.”

Matt chuckled. “I don’t think it’ll be back. They like to be left alone.”

“Okay, good. We have that in common.” She turned to him. “Thank you. You don’t know how happy I am that you were here.”

Yeah, me too. “Anytime.” He handed her the empty pail. “Have a good night. I’ll wait until you’re inside.”

She nodded, took the pail, and kissed him on the cheek. “That’s an exception to our deal.” With a wave, she shut the door.

Matt smiled slowly, already looking forward to seeing her again and, he hoped, to more exceptions to their deal. He had just enough time to do some research and come up with three spot-the-gold-digger questions. And, fingers-crossed, she’d get them right.

Chapter 5

Brianna slept well despite having iguanas feature prominently in her dreams. Probably because the very sexy Matt Gaelen had shown up with equal frequency.

What would it be like to have a hot one-night stand with Matt? One side of her brain told her to go for it. Take it and leave it. The more practical side shouted, “Don’t even think about it.” Would she regret getting involved with him or regret playing it safe? The compromise would be to enjoy his company and island expertise and leave as friends at the end of the two weeks. It wasn’t as sexy or hot as plan A, but it was a heck of a lot safer.

And this whole discussion in her head may be a moot point, she told herself as she flung back the covers. He may not even be interested in her. She opened the shutter on the window, looked out at the calm water, and remembered their first kiss.

Possibly. But not likely.

She grinned and changed into shorts and a T-shirt. A breakfast buffet was included with her stay, but so far she’d slept through it. Today she was up in time.

She walked to the restaurant and picked up a coffee and a pastry. A family of four filled one of the tables and a couple with their heads close together sat at another, so she decided to take her breakfast back to her villa. She’d sit outside to eat, hopefully without attracting any critters. She added yogurt and fruit to the tray and walked back.

Sitting on the porch, sipping her coffee, she enjoyed the view of the ocean and the people passing by on the beach. A suntanned power walker and a man and his dog looked like locals. Off-leash, the dog trotted faithfully by the man’s side, never looking left or right. A group of three women with a young girl, who all looked strikingly similar, and an alabaster-white teenager with pink, sunburned shoulders had the aura of tourists.

A walk in the quiet surf was appealing but, for her, the hammock beckoned. She finished her coffee and then picked one of the romance novels from the bookcase in the sitting room and wandered outside.

The hammock looked sturdy enough. Made of woven rope and strung between two trees, it was in the perfect shady spot. Being low to the ground was good because her first attempt to get in ended with a quick flip, her on her hands and knees and the hammock swinging above. She scooted out and stared at it. Maybe the trick was to approach it like a canoe. Keep to the center. She tried again, holding the edge, aiming her butt toward the midline, and quickly swinging her legs up to the middle. Success. Until she realized that her book was on the ground beside her, and the slight lean to the right had the hammock swinging wildly and dumping her.

She brushed sand off her hands and knees, tucked the book in the front of her shorts, and tried again. By the time she was swaying, ready to read, she was ready for a nap.

When the sun shifted later in the morning, she decided to go for a dip in the ocean. Getting out of the hammock wasn’t any easier. In the end, she tilted herself to the left. No points for grace and beauty, she thought with chagrin, wiping sand off her clothes. She hoped it would get easier as the week wore on.

The swim was refreshing. She was in no rush to leave the gentle bobbing of the waves. She lingered in the shallow water, standing on ripples of firm sand, as the warm surf lapped against her skin. The deep azure and turquoise shimmer was mesmerizing. She stayed until the noonday sun became too hot and then toweled off.

After eating a salad for lunch, she went to visit Jerome and Maria to ask about snorkeling equipment.

Maria was behind the front desk at the reception. “Brianna, how was your dinner last night?”

“Wonderful. Thank you for introducing me to the group. I had a lot of fun.”

“You’re welcome. We have our signature curried plantain for dinner tonight. Come early so you don’t miss out.”

Brianna smiled. “Sounds delicious, but you might have to save some for me. I wanted to try snorkeling this afternoon. Do you, by any chance, rent equipment?”

“We used to, but it was easier to let Wild and Wet take care of it. They organize excursions and provide the gear.”

“Oh, actually, Matt said he would take me later this afternoon,” Brianna said reluctantly.

Maria’s eyes lit up. “Oooh, ain’t that a bit of news.” She chuckled when Brianna squirmed. “Wild and Wet will still fix you up. They’re a quick walk down the beach.”

“Thanks, Maria.”

“Have fun.”

The Wild and Wet shop was a small shack with very sandy floors. Brianna waited her turn. The shirtless young man who served her wore his dreadlocks in a ponytail and had an infectious grin. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for snorkeling equipment.”

He nodded. “Rent used or buy new?”

“It’s just for the week, so I’d prefer to rent.”

“Gotcha.” He handed her a worn pair of fins and a faded scratched snorkel. The mask was in decent shape, but part of the rubber seal was dried and cracked.

Brianna brushed sand from the foot pocket of the fins and had visions of plantar warts and open sores harboring staphylococcus aureus. The mouthpiece of the snorkel was partly chewed. That was not going in her mouth. Big, disgusting ew.

“How much for a new set?”

He named a sum that put her teeth on edge. She’d have to use them every day for the next three months to justify the expense. She took a deep breath and handed over cash before she talked herself out of it.

She walked back to her villa with the new equipment in a handy tote bag, which was pleasantly economical, and focused on the scenery instead of the money she’d just spent. Huge palm trees were everywhere. She passed a garden filled with vibrant orange and purple bird-of-paradise flowers and snapped a few pictures for Maisy. They’d be a little bit of the tropics to break up the winter chill.

The rest of the afternoon went by quickly, and close to three o’clock she changed into her bikini and covered up with a sunscreen shirt. It’d keep her warmer in the water and protect her torso, but it was a little tighter than she remembered. She smeared a moisturizing, shimmering sunscreen over the rest of her body, added lip gloss, and waited for Matt to arrive.

Between patients, Matt researched how to spot a gold digger and came up with some useful, if dubious, information.

First of all, gold diggers tended to spend a lot of time on their personal appearance. Beauty in exchange for money. Great. So how odd would it be to ask about that? What portion of your day was spent getting ready to go out with me? He shook his head. She hadn’t been wearing a lot of make-up the day before. And she certainly didn’t need it. Her skin was smooth and flawless, and she’d had him hooked with one look into her sea-green eyes. He grunted. Maybe he shouldn’t scoff at the allure of appearances.

Next, apparently opportunists liked fine clothes, cars, and furniture, lived beyond their means, and often “forgot” their wallet. They liked to call the shots, and asked questions about investments, goals, and ambitions, but deflected the conversation away from themselves…and were often good in bed. Hard to count that last one as a flaw. The rest, however, seemed straightforward.

All he had to do was arrive on a bicycle and see how she reacted. If she was looking for the fancy car, she’d be disappointed. With charm and nonchalance, he’d ask about how she’d financed the trip and then get her talking about stuff she owned. After snorkeling, he’d invite her out to dinner, something low-key and casual, as a test. If she was coy and turned him down or insisted on a fancier place, the arrow would point to gold digger. If she accepted his invitation, it would be okay, but – and this was a big but – he’d be spending more money on her, which was her whole goal. Hmm, double-edged sword. So how would he know?

If she offered to pay for dinner, she’d be in the clear.

So, in order to make sure she wasn’t after his money, he had to make himself look ungentlemanly and cheap and hope that she’d turn down his invitation to spend more time with him. Great. Sounded like a fun time.

It was a little late to cancel now, but he could. Better yet, he could forget about this ridiculous scheme and have a little faith. Not all relationships were fake and forced, and he was past due for something sincere and solid.

With more resolve, he went to see the last patient of the day. A young woman, in short shorts and a low-cut top smiled at him when he walked into the examining room and introduced himself.

“Well, hello, Doctor Delicious. I’m Lawny. So very pleased to meet you.” Her breasts seemed to get a little closer to him.

Matt, ultra-politely, picked the chair that was farthest away from her and sat down. “How can I help you today?”

“I need a little favor,” she said primly. “If you could have a little look-see and make sure that,” – her face scrunched in distaste – “the clap is gone, I’ll be out of your hair lickety split.”

“You had gonorrhea? How was it diagnosed?”

“I went to my doctor.” She held her hand to the side of her mouth. “He’s not nearly as good-lookin’ as you, sugar. Any-hoo, he took swabs, jabbed me with a needle, and called me two days later to tell me the test was positive. No sex for seven days, he says. Seven days, can you imagine? She’s gonna shrivel from lack of attention.” She shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “But here I am. Day seven and ready for the re-check.”

“Have you noticed any more symptoms?”

“All’s good down there now. Clear and wet like a rainy day,” she said proudly.

Matt worked to keep his expression neutral. He stood up and set a drape on the examining table. “If you’d like to get undressed below the waist, I’ll step out and ask the nurse to join us.”

“Don’t go making it a party on my account.”

“It’s our normal procedure.”

“I usually dread this exam, but,” – she eyed him – “I don’t think it’ll be so bad today.”

Matt smiled weakly and left the room.

He returned shortly with Becky Jerman, his nurse. He examined Lawny and took the appropriate swab. He adjusted the drape, stood, and removed his gloves. “We have an excellent lab on Grand Cayman and should have the result back in twenty-four hours.”

Lawny sat up. “Peachy. My little love bun doesn’t know anything about it, and I’d like to keep it that way. Twenty-four hours is doable.” She waved her hands. “The last thing I need to hear on our little vacay in paradise is how his wife would freak out.” She made a face. “The man is so paranoid, you would not believe it.”

“Really,” Matt said dryly. Leave it be. “If you’d like to drop by early Friday morning, the result should be back.”

“A rendezvous with Doctor Delicious,” she said with a coy look. “I’ll look forward to it.”

Matt struggled to keep his tone even. “We’re all done here. I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

He left the room with his nurse. “Don’t say a word.”

Becky suppressed a laugh. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Doctor Delicious.”

Matt rolled his eyes and went to write up the note. Lawny’s little “love bun” should’ve been contacted by public health and offered screening and treatment. So either she’d lied about her sexual partners or they were both keeping it secret from each other. Either way, it didn’t say much about their relationship.

Matt sighed as he filled out the paperwork for the laboratory. Was that the norm? Was it wishful thinking to hope that he wouldn’t get caught up in something like that? He was already halfway lost with Brianna. Before he fell the whole way, he needed to be sure his money wasn’t the biggest draw. He had to do something to safeguard his heart.

He called Bayshore Bicycles and had them deliver two hybrid bicycles to the Sunshine Villas. Let the fun begin.

Chapter 6

Matt had time to go home, change into board shorts, and grab his gear. Close to three o’clock, he walked over to the Sunshine Villas. He saw the bikes leaning against the reception building and continued to Brianna’s villa. She was sitting on the porch waiting for him.

Her eyes lit up when she spotted him. He was just as happy to see her.

“Hi, how was your morning?” Brianna asked.

“Productive and busy. How about yours?”

“Neither of those,” she said with a laugh. “But wonderful nonetheless.”

He nodded. Was she wearing lipstick? Her lips were moist and shiny. Eminently kissable. He pushed the thought away. Her skin looked different, too. What had she done? Red flag number one.

“Would you like a drink? Did you have a chance to grab a bite to eat?” Brianna asked.

Thoughtful. Considerate. Check. “Thanks, but I’m fine. Are you ready to go?”

She popped up, picked up a bag at her feet, and slung it over her shoulder. “All set. Can we walk there?”

“We could, but it’s a bit far. I rented some bikes and helmets for us.”

She grinned. “Awesome. I love cycling.”

He grinned back at her. Red flag crushed. Excellent. “They’re around the side of the building.”

He adjusted the height of the seat for her and then hooked his backpack over his shoulders. They cycled along a path adjacent to the main road. It was quiet and wide enough to cycle side by side.

“I love the smooth ride of this bike. It’s a lot like the one I have at home.”

Matt frowned. “Really?” They were high-end bicycles, probably worth more than the average monthly salary.

“Yeah, except mine is pink and black. I like the hybrids. The wider tires are great for off-road riding.”

He nodded absently. So she liked fine things and had expensive tastes. Red flag number two.

They cycled for fifteen minutes and then turned off a side road and followed it to the water. A long pier jutted out from a sandy beach. “Let’s cycle onto the pier,” he suggested. “If we leave the bikes halfway, we can walk to the end and snorkel back to shore.”

They locked the bikes and helmets together and left their shoes in the backpack tucked away behind the bikes. Matt unpacked two inflatable life jackets. “Even if you’re a strong swimmer, it helps to have a flotation device. Plus, it’s safer.”

They walked to the end of the pier and stopped to don their gear.

Brianna pulled out flashy new fins, mask, and snorkel. Matt raised his eyebrows at the quality. “Nice.” No expense spared there.

Big spender. Disappointing.

Brianna looked away, a blush rising on her cheeks, and fiddled with the strap of the mask. “I ended up having to buy it. Jerome and Maria didn’t have any to borrow.”

He lifted his own high-end mask out of the backpack and chided himself. There’s the pot calling the kettle black. He showed her how to adjust the strap and thread the snorkel through. When she licked her lips and asked him to repeat what he’d said, the urge to touch her skin and hold her close became overwhelming. Instead, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and moved imperceptibly closer, drawn by the sweet scent of her skin. Her rash guard clung to her curves, and he imagined the smooth skin underneath. When his body stirred, he cleared his throat and stepped back to gain control.

“If you spit in the mask, it helps prevent it from fogging up.”

She made a face. “That doesn’t seem very hygienic.”

He smiled. “No, it’s not. But it works.” He spit in his and smeared it around, and then bent down and scooped water in it to wash it away. He fit it over his nose and mouth and adjusted the snorkel. Brianna shrugged and followed his lead.

Stairs descended into the water. Matt walked sideways in his fins and stopped after the third step. Brianna looked at him with wide eyes, and he held out his hand. “You’ll enjoy it. Trust me.”

She walked in tentatively until the water reached her thighs. “Oh, the water’s warm.”

“It’s only about twenty feet deep. And no waves today, so we’re lucky.”

They jumped off the last step and treaded water while Brianna tested her mask and practiced breathing through the snorkel. “No leaks. Wow, look at that coral.”

Matt smiled. It was hard to stay anxious when there was so much to see. He stayed by Brianna’s side, pointing out colorful fish and stopping to show her a camouflaged flounder. When a stingray glided close to them, Brianna grasped his hand and brushed up against him. He put his arm around her and signaled with a thumbs-up to reassure her, and they floated together until it moved out of sight.

They swam with a school of snappers and watched a blue tang playing in the coral. The water was a crystal-clear aquamarine, and the colors looked brilliant in the sunshine. As the current gently pulled them back to shore, they meandered back and forth and saw starfish, trigger fish, and a spotted drum.

Back on the beach, Brianna pulled off her snorkel and mask. “That was amazing. Like swimming through a tropical fish tank at the store.” Matt smiled. “Only better. Did you see that stingray?” Her eyes shone. “I could’ve reached out and touched it.”

“They get used to us swimming among them. They’re pretty tame.”

“Absolutely stunning close up. I hadn’t realized how big they are.”

They rinsed off at one of the outdoor showers and then headed to the pier to collect their bikes. Matt listened to Brianna with half an ear. Her eyes were sparkling, and she had a huge grin on her face. She gestured with her hands, almost dancing as she walked beside him, asking the names of the fish, recalling everything they’d seen, and quizzing him about the coral reef. Her pleasure was infectious. She was so natural, so genuine. It seemed so unlikely that she was after his money – unless, of course, she didn’t know about it.

“…do that again. I’m so glad you suggested it,” Brianna said.

Matt tuned in again. “I’m glad you had fun. I never get tired of it.” He unlocked the bicycles, pulled her shoes out of his backpack, and handed them to her. They packed away their gear and started pedaling home. Along the quiet road, when they could ride side by side, he asked, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

She glanced over with a smile. “Love to.”

He tried not to frown. That acceptance had been a little too quick. Red flag. He needed to lower her expectations. “I was thinking something simple like grilled fish and salad.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“At my place?”

“That sounds lovely, but do you live far?

He shook his head. “I’m close to the clinic. It’s only about a five-minute walk from your villa.”

He could see her weighing the pros and cons and appreciated her caution. He could use more of it.

“Are you sure it’s not too much trouble? Maria said they were serving their special curried plantains for dinner. That might be easier.”

Was she trying to call the shots? Or being careful? “If you’d be more comfortable, that works too. It’ll be a packed house. Kirk and Ava will be there for sure. No one makes curried plantain like Maria. She says it’s just the right balance of Caribbean red and chocolate habaneros.”

Her face fell. “Sounds hot. Does the chocolate make it sweet?”

“No,” he said with a laugh. “It’ll clear your sinuses and melt your fillings, but if you love spicy, you should try it. Maria will insist.”

Brianna sighed. “I really don’t like spicy food.”

“No? This is about an eight-hundred-Scoville-heat-unit dinner.” He shrugged. “But there’s a whole menu to choose from.”

“How insulted would Maria be if I picked something else?”

“The price you pay…” Matt smiled. “The offer of grilled fish and salad is still on the table. And I promise, no shenanigans.”

She smiled and looked him in the eye. “Thank you. I would love that.”

“The no-shenanigans part? Or the meal part?”

“I appreciate both,” she said with a laugh. “As long as I can help cook.”

“I will never turn down help peeling carrots.”

“Awesome. That’s a job I can do. Can we stop at the villa so I can change?”

“Yes, of course. It’s on the way.” And he could see how long it took her to get ready.

The light was starting to fade when they pulled up to Brianna’s villa. Matt sat on the porch and started the timer on his watch when Brianna ran inside to change. Forty-seven seconds later, Brianna came out to join him dressed in a flowery sleeveless sundress, her hair piled up in a messy bun, and smelling of roses and fresh air.

“Ready,” she said with a nod.

He blinked. Maybe she was, but was he?

Chapter 7

Brianna and Matt debated whether to cycle or walk to Matt’s house, but since the light was fading, they decided to leave the bikes at the villa.

The air was warm, with a slight breeze, as they made their way along the main street. Matt reached for her hand as they strolled, and her heart fluttered at the contact.

This was turning out to be the best holiday ever. Paradise island, beautiful weather, peaceful days, new adventures, and the sexy, smart, fun Dr. Matt Gaelen asking her to dinner. She owed Maisy another huge hug.

They passed a liquor store, and Brianna tugged his hand. “Can we pop in here? I’d like to buy a bottle of wine for dinner. My treat.”

Matt smiled and held the door open for her.

Brianna perused the selection. She didn’t drink much, and they all looked the same, but it seemed so … unsophisticated to admit that. She should have paid more attention to her dad when he’d tried to share some of his expertise. She recognized one of her dad’s favorites and, suppressing a grimace at the price, took it to the cash to pay.

As they stood in line, a raven-haired beauty, in high heels and a curve-hugging outfit, walked in on the arm of an older gentleman.

Brianna tried not to gawk. Was the dress painted on that woman?

As the couple passed, the woman leaned back, wiggled her fingers in a wave, and winked at Matt. Matt nodded stiffly in return.

Brianna raised her eyebrows at the exchange.

“Patient of mine,” Matt explained briefly, as Brianna handed the wine to the clerk.

“Good choice,” the man said with a smile. “That’ll be thirty-two dollars and forty cents.”

Brianna reached in her purse for her credit card and … realized it was still hidden in the bottom of her suitcase. The small amount of cash she had wouldn’t cover the cost.

“I am so sorry.” She felt a flush rise on her cheeks. “I thought I had my credit card with me, but I’ve forgotten it. I can return that to the shelf.”

“That’s okay, ma’am, we’ll put it back.”

She turned to Matt, who stood watching. “I can’t believe I did that. We’re not far from the villa. I could run back and get my wallet.” This wasn’t embarrassing. And she’d worried about appearing unsophisticated. Jeez.

Matt looked at her with his brows drawn together. “I can get it.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it.” Would suggesting they get a cheaper bottle seem tacky?

He pulled out his credit card and handed it to the clerk.

Brianna cringed. “I can pay you back.”

Matt didn’t say anything. They completed the transaction, and the clerk handed Matt the bottle. “Thanks.”

As soon as they went outside, Brianna turned to him. “I’m really sorry. I hid my credit cards in my suitcase for safekeeping, and I forgot to put them back in my purse. I really will pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” His smile looked forced.

Brianna nodded glumly.

Matt pointed out the clinic when they passed, but otherwise was quiet. He didn’t take her hand again. She couldn’t help but think she’d done something to strain their relationship.

Matt’s home was set back from the road, separated by a beautiful garden lush with succulents and two large palm trees. Matt unlocked the front door and stepped back to let her go in first.

The foyer opened into a large space with a sitting room off to the left and a kitchen to the right. More garden, a sandy beach, and ocean waves were visible through floor-to-ceiling windows across the back of the bungalow.

Matt flicked on a light. “Why don’t we sit outside with a glass of wine and enjoy the sunset?” He led her through the kitchen. Plain white glossy cabinets created a stunning backdrop for an aqua-blue glass backsplash and elegant stone countertops. Soft blue drapes and matching chairs, with an added pop of orange, gave the room an airy, tropical feel.

“I love these colors,” Brianna said, looking around while Matt opened the bottle.

“Thanks. The house was completely renovated shortly before I bought it two years ago.” He poured the wine into two goblets and handed her one. “Considering the island didn’t have electricity before 1990, I’m sure it was a big job. I’m very happy it was done before I had to worry about it.”

They went out a French door, and under the shade of a palm tree, Matt pulled two patio chairs closer together. Brianna sank down into the soft cushion and sipped her wine. “What a view.”

The sun was a fiery glow low in the sky. Bands of orange, pink, and yellow reflected off the water. The rich sweet scent of lilies filled the air and a bird flitted around clusters of yellow bells.

“I never tire of it.”

“I bet. It’s mesmerizing.” Brianna smiled. “I can see a sliver of Lake Ontario from my apartment. The view isn’t bad, but it’s nothing like this. Actually I took a picture the other day.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through the photos to find the one she wanted. Over the back of her sofa, she had snapped a raging snowstorm. “Here.”

He took her phone and studied the photo. “Something you won’t ever see here,” he said with a laugh. “Or at least I hope not.” He pointed to the sofa in the foreground. “That looks like a Boca do Lobo. I have a similar one in my living room.”

“No kidding?” She took her phone back and studied it. “It’s a hand-me-down from my parents. One day my mom decided she needed a change. I don’t think my dad could bear to let it go.”

“It’s an expensive piece. Limited edition, I believe.” He studied her over the rim of his wine glass.

Brianna shrugged. “And super comfortable.” She grinned. “Great for napping.”

He looked at her with speculation in his eyes, but she dismissed it. She was being too sensitive.

When the sun went down, they went inside to make dinner. Brianna peeled and chopped the carrots. Matt seasoned the fish, drizzled the vegetables with a marinade, and grilled them together.

Brianna cut up a crusty loaf of bread into thick slices, and then sat watching Matt while he finished. He’s done this before. His movements were efficient and sure. She’d tried not to ogle him when he’d swum beside her that afternoon, but it was hard to resist staring now. Strong arms, broad chest, sculpted quads, really cute butt. He brushed his hair back in an absent gesture. Brianna sighed and wished she could run her hands through it, too.

When the meal was ready, they filled their plates and sat outside to eat. Matt lit a candle, and they listened to the sound of waves breaking on the shore.

They chatted easily and when they were done, Matt collected the plates. “I don’t have much for dessert unless you like chocolate chip cookies.”

“You had me at chocolate.” She started to get up to help him with the dishes.

He laughed. “Just relax. I’ll get it.”

Brianna sat back and enjoyed the warm breeze lifting her hair and brushing against her skin.

The quiet was broken by a loud clattering in the kitchen and Matt swearing.

Brianna jumped up and went to look. “Are you okay?”

He stood behind the counter, blood dripping from his hand. He reached for a roll of paper towels and awkwardly tried to rip off a piece.

Brianna took the roll, tore off a section, and folded it into a square. “Let me see.”

Matt held out his left hand. Blood flowed from a clean slash across the side of his palm. Brianna pressed the dressing against it.

“I didn’t realize there was a knife under the tea towel. I went to move it out of the way, and the blade nicked my hand,” he said with an impatient sigh.

Brianna raised her eyebrows. “I think it’s more than a nick. It looks deep.” Blood soaked through the dressing. She ripped off more paper towel and added it to the dressing, holding it firmly to stop the bleeding. “Come and sit down. Keep pressure on that.” Brianna held his elbow and led him to the kitchen table.

He sat down heavily. “I’m okay.”

“Really? ’Cause you look a little pale. I don’t want you passing out.”

“I won’t.” He shook his head irritably. “What a nuisance.”

“Let’s see it.”

He removed the paper towel and held it out to her. “It’s not too bad.”

“The bleeding has slowed, but it needs to be explored. Likely needs stitches, too.”

Matt looked at it. “No, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. It won’t heal well and then you’ll be at risk for infection.”

Matt rolled his eyes and gave a crooked grin. “And where did you get your medical degree?” he asked with a short laugh.

“Cantech University,” Brianna said wryly.

“Seriously, I don’t want to fly to Grand Cayman for this. There’s no one on the island who can do it.”

Brianna put her hands on her hips. “I can suture it.”

Matt blinked. “What?”

“I can do it. I just came off a four-week rotation in the emergency department.”

“You’re serious? You’re a doctor? I thought you were joking.”

Brianna laughed, wondering if she should be insulted. “I’m serious. I’ve got three months left in my family medicine residency, a slew of exams to sit, and then I’ll be out there saving the world.” She frowned. “Someone asked me about it the very first night at the restaurant. Weren’t you there?”

“No, I don’t recall that at all.”

She shrugged. “Ava and Emma must have asked me on the dance floor. At any rate, I am highly qualified, or at least qualified enough to suture that for you. If you want.”

“You’re qualified in Canada, not here,” he pointed out.

“True, but there are extenuating circumstances in an emergency.” She smiled at him. “For you, I’m willing to risk it.”

“Living on the edge.” He sighed. “I’d appreciate it.”

“It needs to be cleaned, too.”

“Yeah, I know. I think I cut the fish with that knife.” He dabbed at the cut. “It’s probably easiest to head over to the clinic. We have everything you’ll need.” He looked at her. “Do you want me to call Becky in to help? She’s the nurse.”

“No, I should be fine. Unless you need someone to hold your hand.”

“No. Might need you to kiss it better, though.”

She laughed and kissed his cheek. “Of course. Another exception to the deal.”

He grinned weakly. “Huh. Almost worth it. Something you usually offer your patients?”

She put her arm around his waist when he stood and gave him a side hug. “I reserve it for the cute ones who take me snorkeling and make me dinner.”

“Oh, lucky me.”

“Yes, lucky you.” She smiled at him. “Just remember that when I’m injecting the freezing.”

Chapter 8

Matt unlocked the side door to the clinic and went in first to disarm the alarm. Brianna followed him inside, curious to see where he worked.

“My office is down that way,” Matt said, pointing to the right, “but we can use the procedure room for this.” He flicked on lights as they walked down the hallway and into one of the examining rooms. The white walls were broken up by a colorful painting of tropical fish. “Most of what you need should be in here.” He opened a cabinet.

Brianna walked over and picked out the bottle of lidocaine, a syringe, a package of sutures, and the instruments she needed. “Do you want me to irrigate it with normal saline or tap water?”

“Tap water should be fine.”

He ran warm water and let it cascade over the cut. Brianna opened the edges until she was satisfied that it was clean.

“Why don’t you lie down on the stretcher?”

She drew up the lidocaine and injected it slowly, wanting to apologize when Matt winced. “Sorry, that stings.”

Before she sutured it, she explored it to ensure that the tendons and nerves were intact. “You’re lucky. It’s fairly superficial.”

Matt grunted. “Not superficial enough.” He sighed and looked at the ceiling. “So you’re a Cantech grad?”

“Yup. Two years ago, with a lot of pomp and ceremony. Actually, the best part was getting a bicycle from my parents as a graduation gift. The one I told you about.”

Matt nodded. “Nice. They must have been proud.”

Brianna tied off the second stitch. “I guess. I think my dad hoped I’d follow in his footsteps and do obstetrics and gynecology.”

He turned his head quickly to look at her. “Is Dr. Gerald Scott your dad?”

Brianna nodded. “Chief of OB-GYN at Rivermede General.”

“Oh, wow. I have a lot of respect for him. I consulted him briefly on a project about a year ago.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, we needed an expert opinion on an issue with pre-eclampsia, and his name came up. He was really helpful. Changed the direction of the design concept, actually.”

She laughed. “Small world. My father would’ve loved that. He enjoys his patients, but he lives for research and teaching.”

“And he’s good at it. He has a worldwide reputation of excellence. Do you have any desire to jump into the world of academia?”

She inserted the needle driver in the skin at ninety degrees for the last suture. “I prefer clinical medicine.” She shrugged. “Ideally, I’d like to set up a family practice in a smaller community. I’ve done a few electives in small towns, and I really like the responsibility and wide scope of practice outside of a teaching center.” She sighed. “But we’ll see. Crunch time is coming in three months,” she said with a grimace. “I’ll be done my exams, and I’ll have to decide. It seemed so far away when I started the residency.”

“It goes by fast. Nice that you have a bit of a break now before the home stretch. Was it hard to get a block of time like that?”

“No, it’s just how the schedule worked out. Most of the residents wanted their holidays in the fall or spring. This time of year, I could take them all at once.”

“It’s the perfect time of year here.”

“I’m loving it. Actually, I probably would’ve stayed home and studied, except the week before my holiday I won two hundred and fifty grand in the Rivermede Hospital lottery.”

He whistled. “Congrats. That’s sick. Can’t say I’ve ever won a lottery.”

She laughed. “Me either, before this one. Most of the money went to pay off my student debt, some I invested, but I decided to splurge on a holiday.” She set the instruments down on a tray and pushed it aside. “All done.”

Matt examined her work. “Awesome. That looks great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Are you up to date on your tetanus?”

“I am.” He sat up and smiled. “You said you’d kiss it better.”

She removed her gloves and threw them in the trash. Then she walked over and stood between his legs. She gently reached for his hand and kissed the fingertips, and then she pressed a kiss to his lips. “All better?” she asked softly.

“Not quite.” He brushed his lips against hers and teased her lips open. Her heart tattooed when his tongue swept inside. She wrapped her arms around him to steady herself.

When her legs turned to jelly at his touch, she pulled back reluctantly. One-handed, he could turn her to mush. “I believe you promised me dessert. Something about chocolate.”

He smiled slowly. “I did. Are you in the mood for something sweet?”

I’m in the mood for you. But not here. “I am.” She kissed him quickly and stepped back. “Let me get this cleaned up first, though.” He made to stand and she put a hand on his shoulder. “Sit for a minute. I’ll get it.”

She discarded the needles in a sharps container and returned the lidocaine to the cabinet.

“Just leave the instruments on that tray. Becky will sterilize them when she comes in tomorrow.”

When the room was tidy, they headed out. Brianna passed a jar of condoms sitting on the reception desk and, on impulse, grabbed a handful. Matt looked at her with his eyebrows raised, and she felt a blush creep up her neck. “Just in case,” she said with a smile.

Matt locked the door to the clinic behind them and walked briskly toward his home, tugging her along. Brianna had to lengthen her stride to keep up. “Getting your power-walk in for the day?” she asked with a laugh. What was he doing? He should have been taking it easy.

He looked at her with a gleam in his eye.

Oh. She felt a tingle from her head to her toes.

They stepped in the front door. “How’s the hand?” Brianna asked. He really should have an early night if he wasn’t feeling well, she thought.

“Great. Still frozen. I don’t feel a thing.” He strode into the kitchen, rummaged through the pantry, and pulled out a jar. He returned to her, his eyes smoldering and questioning, his body close, his chest barely touching her breasts. He ran his tongue along her jawline to her earlobe. Shivers ran down her spine and need pooled in her belly. She wanted him.

“I’ve got chocolate sauce, and my bedroom’s down the hall,” he whispered in her ear.

Chapter 9

Brianna held up the condoms in one hand and ran the other down his chest. “You had me at chocolate.” She pressed a kiss to his lips.

Matt chuckled and led her into the bedroom. Warm night air fluttered the curtains of an open window, and moonlight streamed in across a king-sized bed. Matt turned on a lamp sitting on the nightstand, set the jar down, tossed the condoms down with it, and gathered her in his arms. “You said no shenanigans,” – he leaned back to look her in the eyes – “which is what I have in mind.” He lowered the zipper of her dress. “So I want you to be sure.”

She slipped the dress from her shoulders and unhooked her bra. “I haven’t had shenanigans with very many people.” Her bra fell to the floor. “But I’m sure I want it with you.”

She reached to undo the buttons of his shirt, pushed it open, and stroked the smooth skin and firm muscle of his chest. Her breasts brushed against him, her nipples pebbling, and she wound her hands up his neck to run her fingers through his hair. Soft and full. Like the sensation of his lips on hers.

His hands roamed everywhere, brushing the tip of one breast, circling the sensitive curve, cupping the weight. He traced a line down her side and slipped under the lace she wore, smoothing a trail down her thigh, taking the fabric off. Brianna stepped out of her panties and helped him with the button of his shorts, no longer patient. He was hard and ready, and she shivered at the sight of his body. He was gorgeous, and those smoldering eyes focused on her, drinking in the sight of her naked body and so wantonly hungry, was heady. Emotion swirled in her chest.

He lifted her up and set her on the bed, covering her with his weight. He held her arms over her head and plundered her mouth. Brianna hooked her legs around his and pumped her hips, going moist at the contact with his body.

He released her hands and swept his tongue down her neck. She arched her back, offering him her breasts. He laved and sucked, nipped and tugged. Brianna squirmed and closed her eyes, letting sensation wash over her. He reached between her thighs. One stroke of his finger had her bucking and groaning.

“Condom.” She leaned over, grabbed one off the nightstand, and ripped it open. Matt sat up on his haunches and took it from her. The sight of him rolling the condom on, over his whole sexy hard length, had her mouth watering. “Next time, I get to do that,” she murmured.

He chuckled, looking adorably embarrassed. “Deal.” Then he leaned down and kissed her. “The pleasure would be all mine.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she said with a smile against his lips.

She raised her hips and rubbed against him. When he slipped inside, she sighed with pleasure, and when he started moving, she grabbed the sheets and held on. Gentle gliding changed to deep thrusts as she matched his rhythm. A sheen of sweat covered their bodies. She nipped at his shoulder, licking the salt, and ran her hands down his back, the skin soft and slick. Pressure built, and she tightened around him in waves. He groaned and shuddered in release.

Brianna wrapped her arms around Matt and held him close, waiting for the emotional surge that came with her orgasm to pass. Sometimes it overwhelmed her, with a trace of sadness that brought tears to her eyes. But not this time. This time she was content and relaxed, with happiness in her heart.

When she loosened her hold, Matt rolled to one side and pulled off the condom. He kissed her cheek and wrapped his arm around her, tucking her close.

She snuggled closer. “Wow, if that’s what you can do with one good hand, I can’t wait to see what you do with two.”

Matt chuckled. “You’re awesome.”

Brianna smiled. “So are you.” She eyed the jar on the night table. “We still have chocolate sauce.” He hardened against her. “And a willing participant.”

He chuckled, reached for the jar, and opened it. “Absolutely.” He gently nudged her onto her back and slowly drizzled the chocolate across her chest. Her nipples tightened and she shivered.

“Oh, sorry, I’ll have to clean that up,” he whispered. He set the jar aside and knelt beside her. With light strokes of his tongue and meticulous attention to detail, he took control.

Brianna’s heart fluttered, and she closed her eyes. You can never go wrong with chocolate.

Chapter 10

Brianna woke to the sound of an alarm clock. Matt, lying beside her, reached to shut it off. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I have to go to work, but stay as long as you want,” he whispered. He brushed her hair back from her face.

She smiled without opening her eyes.

She surfaced briefly at the sound of the shower and again when she heard Matt walk into the bedroom. She opened her eyes and watched him remove the towel from his waist. Hello and good morning. She’d had her turn with the chocolate sauce the night before. The memory of the dark, rich sweetness mixed with his salty skin had her wanting more.

“When does your clinic start?” she asked sleepily.

He glanced over with a smile. “In about fifteen minutes. Why?”

“The condom on the nightstand wants to make a wake-up call.” Brianna grew moist watching Matt go hard.

“Is that so?” Matt crawled across the bed toward her.

“Yup.” After a sizzling kiss, Brianna reached for the condom and tore open the package.

She nudged Matt onto his back and knelt between his legs. She took him in her mouth, teased the length of him with her tongue, and stroked him with her lips. When he moaned and tensed, Brianna smiled against him.

“Any more awake and it’s going to be over,” Matt ground out.

Brianna pulled back, rolled the condom on, and straddled his waist, guiding him inside. With a satisfied sigh, she arched her back and moved. Matt touched her breasts, lightly at first, then reared up to take a taut nipple in his mouth.

Their hips pumped in a rapid tattoo, short frenzied pulses feeding a deep craving need. The pressure circled and swirled, clawed and gripped her, leaving her desperate for more. She linked her hands with Matt to hold on, loving the feel of his lips on her skin, his body inside her. Pressure swirled deep inside her, built in a wave, and spun out of control. She held her breath and tensed when it peaked, savoring the shiver that swept down her spine. Matt thrust his hips one last time and shuddered.

Brianna collapsed on top of him and curled against him, listening to the pounding of his heart.

When their breathing slowed, she smiled at him. “I’d like to say I’m sorry that you’re going to be late, but I’m really not.”

“I’m sure if they knew how great that felt, the patients would understand.”

“Ha ha. I hope they don’t find out.”

“Speaking of which, I should get going.” He kissed her forehead. “I should be finished by three today. There’s a salt pond at the center of the island with landlocked tarpon. If you’re interested, we’d have time to cycle to see it.”

“Oh, cool. I’d love that.”

“Perfect. It’s a date.” He removed the condom and headed to the ensuite.

“How’s your hand?”

He stopped and flexed his fingers and then opened his palm. “A little stiff, but it feels good. I think kissing it better made all the difference.”

Brianna smiled and blew him a kiss. “I think so, too. Six years of training is overrated.”

He chuckled and went to get dressed.

Brianna watched him go. She could spend every morning waking up to him. Every morning for the next fifteen days. And then what? She’d be back home thinking this was a dream.

She shook her head and pushed the thought away, not wanting a shadow of sadness overhanging everything they did. Live a lot, enjoy the moment, and worry about tomorrow tomorrow. Lots of mantras to keep her mind busy.

A few minutes later, Matt returned with a mug of coffee and handed it to her. “For you.”

Brianna’s heart melted. “Thank you. That’s sweet.” She sat up and wrapped her hands around the cup.

“Help yourself to muffins in the freezer, and hang out for as long as you want. If you go out, don’t worry about locking the door. I can do it remotely with my phone.”

“I’ll probably head back to the villa after I get dressed. And spend the day lounging there. I might even go snorkeling again.”

“Take a life jacket,” he said with a smile. “Have fun. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

Brianna heard the front door close. She took another sip of coffee and then set the mug on the nightstand. She could hear the waves crashing and the birds singing outside. She picked up one of Matt’s T-shirts and pulled it over her head. His scent lingered on it, and she hugged it closer.

Smiling at herself, she picked up her coffee and padded to the kitchen. She took a muffin from the freezer and went outside to sit. The air was fresh and the day already warm. A light wind kept it comfortable. She sighed in contentment. Another gorgeous day.

As soon as she finished breakfast, she rinsed her dishes and went to change into her dress. Before she left, she jotted a note for Matt.

Thanks for breakfast. Can’t wait to see you again. She drew a heart and put her name beside it.

And then frowned. Love, Brianna. That’s what the heart represented. Is that what she meant?

Did she love him?

Wasn’t it too soon?

Something deep inside tugged at her.

No. She couldn’t be. Didn’t want to be. How would that ever work?

She would not, could not, love Matt. He would be a wonderful holiday distraction. For two weeks she would enjoy him. And then as easily as the surf washed away footprints in the sand, she would walk away and let it go. A brief sexy interlude to tide her over until her more practical soul mate came along, when she was ready. And preferably on the same continent.

Did you hear that, heart? That is the plan.

She took the note and crumpled it into a ball. Another one for the vault.

Chapter 11

Matt hurried into the examining room and apologized as he shut the door behind him. “Sorry I’m late. I’m Dr. Gaelen.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Hayley.” The young woman, dressed in white shorts and a pink T-shirt, her black hair pulled back in a ponytail, smiled easily. “No worries. Actually, I was a bit late myself.” She shrugged. “Island time, right?”

Matt smiled, sat across from her, and read her chart. “You’re concerned about a urinary tract infection?”

“Yes. It started last night, but it’s worse this morning. Burning when I pee, pressure here.” She pointed to her lower abdomen. “I feel like I have to go all the time, but then I can only pee small amounts. It’s really uncomfortable.”

“Any back pain or fever?”

“Not that I’ve noticed. I’m usually pretty healthy, so it’s a bit of a surprise.”

Matt dipped the urine sample, and the results were consistent with a bladder infection. He examined Hayley and ruled out kidney involvement. “I think you’re right, it looks like a bladder infection. I can prescribe an antibiotic, and you should be feeling better within forty-eight hours.”

“Oh, that’s good news. I don’t want to spend my whole holiday feeling like this. What could’ve caused it? I’ve never had one before.”

“It’s usually caused by bacteria that are carried forward on the skin from the bowel. Intercourse can sometimes push the bacteria up the urethra. And then urine in the bladder acts as the perfect culture medium.” He handed her the prescription. “Peeing after sex flushes the bacteria out, and wiping from front to back helps prevent the bacteria from ending up on the skin near the urethra.”

“Okay, that fits. My boyfriend and I have been a little ‘busier’ than usual in the past couple of days,” she said with a grin.

“Anecdotally, patients also blame bubble baths, hot tubs, or tight clothing, but I don’t think there are any good studies to support that.”

“Not an issue with me, but good to know.” She waved the prescription. “Hopefully, this will be the end of it.”

“If not, come and see me again.”

Hayley nodded. “Will do. Thanks.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you. And no offense, but I hope I won’t be back.”

Matt laughed. “None taken. Have a good one.”

The rest of the morning was hectic but straightforward. His mind only strayed a dozen times to images of Brianna. Just as he finished the booked appointments, a wave of walk-in patients kept him working through lunch. He grabbed a quick bite and ate it while he caught up on his charts. It started to die down mid-afternoon, and he began to plan what to make Brianna for dinner as he finished the last of the paperwork.

His phone rang, and he saw that it was Kirk. “Buddy, what’s up?”

“Not much,” Kirk replied. “Ava passed along a fascinating tidbit that might interest you. Are you still chasing Brianna’s skirt?”

“You have such a way with words.” He shook his head. “Why do you ask?”

“Trying to help you out. I don’t think you need to worry that she’s after your money.”

“Why’s that?”

“She’s a doctor.”

The disbelief in his voice made Matt laugh. “Yeah, I know.”

“What? How’d you find out?”

“She told me. Right before she sutured my hand last night.”

“She sutured your hand?”

Matt laughed. “Do you feel like you’re a little behind the times?”

“What happened?”

“I grabbed a towel off the counter with a knife underneath it. Long story short, it slipped, and I needed six stitches near the palm of my hand.”

“Ouch.” Kirk tsked. “And the very lovely Brianna Scott fixed that up for you, did she?”

“She did.” He looked at her handiwork. “Did a good job, too.”

“So, if she’s a doctor, she’s got to be loaded.”

“Or have a pile of student debt. She told me she won a lottery to pay it off and fund her vacation.”

“Seems unlikely. Do you believe her?”

“I do.”

“Sounds like you’ve crossed her off the gold-digger list.”

“Pretty much. If she is, she’s fooling me.”

“Which wouldn’t be hard to do.”

“Hah. Well, I can’t see it. She’d have to be very good. I doubt she’s even made the connection.”

“Her eyes don’t light up with dollar signs at the mention of your last name?”

“No.” Matt stared in the distance. How much had she heard his last name? How much did he care? He’d fallen for her, hard and fast. But she wasn’t like the others. At least, he hoped not.

“Or you no longer care because the sex was that good.”

Matt was silent. It was more than the sex. He sat back with a sigh.

Kirk hooted.

“What makes you think I slept with her?”

“Good question. She seems smart. Why would she? Unless she fell for your dinner-and-dessert trick.”

Matt frowned. “What dinner-and-dessert trick?”

“Your cooking skills are infamous. Hell, I’d jump into bed with you if you’d make that homemade pizza again.”

Matt shook his head. “There’s a picture I don’t ever want in my head.”

Kirk laughed. “Well, if you were gay… and I was gay… just sayin’.”

“I think it’s time to finish this call and pretend this conversation never happened.”

“Alrighty. You have fun. Seriously, if you’re having trouble getting laid, try the pizza.”

Matt pulled the phone from his ear and disconnected. With friends like that …

He shuddered thinking of all the times he’d used Kirk as a sounding board for relationship advice. No wonder they were both still single.

Chapter 12

Brianna snapped open a beach chair and tugged on the frame to make sure it was secure. Last thing she needed was to have it fold up on her when she sat down. Seems sturdy. She dragged it under a palm tree, stretched out, and buried her feet in the sand.

At three o’clock in the afternoon, the temperature was comfortable in the shade and the top layer of sand still hot from the earlier sun. She wiggled her toes, burrowing deeper to the cool.

This was the perfect spot – in plain view of her villa so she’d see Matt when he arrived, and a handy place to people-watch. The waves were bigger this afternoon, and a group of teenagers were jumping in the surf.

She’d been in for a swim earlier when it had been calmer and had taken the bicycle to go snorkeling. It wasn’t quite the same without Matt, but until his hand healed, he probably wouldn’t want to risk an infection. She didn’t mind going on her own. The world under the water was silent and peaceful. The vibrant colors, the huge schools and variety of fish, the different coral, and the fact that she could get so close to it all was breathtaking. It was an easy way to fill her day.

She saw Matt stride toward her and jumped up to greet him with a hug and a kiss. “Hi.”

“Hi to you. Nice set-up here.”

Brianna smiled. “It was too nice to be indoors waiting for you.”

“Sorry I’m late.”

“Oh, no problem. I totally understand. Were you busy?”

“It wasn’t too bad. A big group at noon, but it tapered off. How was your day?”

“Awesome. Went swimming and snorkeling and had lots of time to read and master the hammock.”

Matt laughed. “The hammock’s not as easy as it looks. Are you still interested in going to see Tarpon Lake?”

“Yes.” She folded up her beach chair. Matt offered to carry it, and they walked back to her villa.

She brushed the sand off her feet and slipped on running shoes. They donned their helmets and headed east along the coastal road. After fifteen minutes of leisurely cycling, they were at the edge of the lake. They parked the bicycles and followed a boardwalk. A fisherman on a pier reeled in a huge silver fish and they stopped to watch.

“How did a fish that big ever end up in a small lake like this?” Brianna asked.

“They believe the fish got caught up in a storm surge. We’re not too far inland. The surprising thing is that they thrived here. Became food for herons and a catch for sports fishermen.”

“Is it good to eat?”

“Nah, it’s caught and released, generally. Too many small bones.”

“It has a beautiful silver shimmer to it.”

“It does. When you’re out on the water, the light reflects off of it when it swims by.”

They walked hand in hand until the sun started to go down, and then cycled back to Matt’s house. “You’ll stay for dinner?”

“I’d like to, but would you rather go out? You cooked last night, too.”

“No, I enjoy cooking.” He held up his left hand. “Not that this is any indication, but I’m usually pretty handy with a knife.”

Brianna took his hand and kissed it. “Well, I appreciate you cooking for me.”

They spent the evening together. Brianna loved watching Matt cook – the muscles of his arms rippling as he moved, his pleasure in creating a new recipe, and the sultry look in his eyes when he offered her a taste. He asked about her favorite foods and promised to introduce her to new ones. He was charming, sweet, thoughtful, and fun. And Brianna knew she had lost her heart to him.

Two weeks later, Brianna sat on a barstool at Matt’s counter watching him fillet a tilapia. They had spent every day together, exploring the island in the late afternoon, cooking dinner together in the evening, and making love each night. Matt’s hand had healed beautifully, and Brianna had removed the sutures. That was the only medical thing she’d done on her holiday. She felt refreshed and excited to begin the climb to her exams, except that it meant the end of her island paradise, and leaving Matt.

“Tomorrow’s my last day. My flight is at ten in the morning,” she murmured, twirling the wine in her glass. She was almost afraid to talk about it. They hadn’t really discussed it, and she wasn’t even sure Matt was aware. “I don’t want to leave.”

Matt looked her in the eye. “So don’t.” He shrugged. “Stay.”

Brianna snorted a laugh. “Right.”

He set the knife down and washed his hands. “I’m serious.” He dried his hands on a towel. “We have something special together, Brianna. Something that’s hard to find.” He ran his hand through his hair and she stared.

He’s nervous. He’s never nervous. Her own stomach twisted in knots.

“Just a minute.” He turned on his heel and disappeared down the hallway.

She set down her wine and pushed it away. It wasn’t sitting well in her belly.

Matt returned and held out his hand. “Come outside with me.” Brianna’s hand shook when she placed it in his. He led her into the garden and sat with her on a bench. The moon was low in the sky, and the reflection shimmered on the water. The waves quietly lapped onto the shore. The smell of jasmine filled the air, and a warm breeze tugged at her hair.

Matt took her hands in his and kissed her softly. “Brianna, the last three weeks I’ve spent with you have been the happiest of my life.”

Brianna’s heart pounded.

“I love your laugh, your joy in life. You’re down to earth and always look for the good in everyone and everything. I can relax with you, and yet I’m excited to be with you. You’re always in my thoughts, and you’ve found your way into my heart.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a box. “You know, I never really understood what it meant or how it felt when someone said they’d found the person they wanted to spend the rest of their life with. Until I met you.” He opened the lid and held it out to her. “I love you, Brianna, with all of my heart. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Brianna felt lightheaded and had an urge to drop her head between her knees. “Matt.”

The ring was stunning. She was no expert on diamonds, but that little baby was a doozy. Oh my god. He looked so hopeful, so in love. She blinked away tears.

“Matt, I love you, too.” Of that, she was sure. He blew out a breath, and a grin spread across his face.

“But …” She didn’t even know where to begin. She set the box on the bench between them and linked her fingers with his. “The last three weeks have been amazing.” She bit her lip. Her chest tightened and she focused on breathing. “It’s been like a fantasy, how I dreamed I’d get swept off my feet and fall in love.” She squeezed his hands as tears gathered in her eyes. “But that’s the problem. It doesn’t seem real.”

Matt shook his head. “It feels real to me. I’ve never felt this way with anyone before.” He smiled sadly. “It may seem too fast to you, but I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my life.”

Brianna looked down. “But what about my life back in Rivermede? I’m three months away from finishing my residency. I’ve worked ten years toward earning a medical degree. How does that all factor in?”

“You could go back and finish it.” He shrugged. “Or not.”

“How could I not? I have to earn a living.”

“I could support you. Money isn’t an issue, Brie. If you didn’t want to work, you wouldn’t need to.”

She blinked. “Give it all up when I’m so close to the end? I’ve worked hard to be a doctor, and I can’t wait to get out there and use my degree.”

“Then finish it and come back here. Could you live on the island?”

She looked out at the ocean and thought about the past three weeks. “It seems surreal to think about it. Could the island support two physicians?”

He shrugged. “I think so.”

“Oh Matt, this is all so complicated. It’s like a dream, except tomorrow I’m going to wake up on a plane back to Rivermede, and on Monday I’ll be back in the clinic, working and studying and wondering if it really happened.” She picked up the ring and handed it back to him. “I can’t accept this, Matt.” She brushed a tear away from her cheek impatiently. “I love you. But it would never work.”

“Brianna, don’t.”

“I’m sorry, Matt, I truly am.” She swallowed and then stood. “I should go.”

She made it to the kitchen door.

“Brianna. Don’t go.”

“Matt, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m really sorry.”

“I know.” He put his arms around her. “I’m sorry too, but don’t leave.” He turned her to face him and hugged her. “Stay for dinner. If you don’t want to stay the night, I’ll walk you home later. But stay for dinner.” He kissed her softly. “Please.”

She rested her head against his chest. “Are you sure? The good-bye won’t be any easier later.”

“I know, but it can’t get any harder either.” His chest rose and fell as he sighed.

She brushed a tear from her cheek. “You just want me to peel the carrots, right?”

He smiled sadly and rubbed her back. “Yeah. You know it’s my least favorite job.”

Brianna’s heart twisted. “Okay, put me to work.”

Chapter 13

When they made love that night, it was tender and slow. Matt was reverent, touching her like he wanted to memorize her features and the curves of her body. Brianna kissed him hungrily and pushed away the image of her saying good-bye.

Matt slid the ring on a gold chain and clasped it around her neck. “If you won’t wear it on your finger, wear it next to your heart. And think of me.”

After they made love, she snuggled next to him and listened to his deep, even breathing. Was she doing the right thing? She fingered the ring. What if he was her one true love, the one sent just for her? Cupid had had to work hard to get them together. Should she be walking away?

She sighed. All that training, all that work, all those sleepless nights. She couldn’t just blow that off. Being a doctor and helping others was part of who she was, a gift she’d been given that she had to use.

She’d meant what she’d said. This was a fantasy, a dream. Her real life was hectic and unpredictable and she wasn’t always relaxed and carefree. At times she was cranky and selfish. Would he love her then? If he saw the real her, would he still be offering her the ring? She sighed. Probably not. Who wanted to live with irritable and chaotic when they could have paradise and sunshine?

Pain gripped her chest. It was too hard. She pressed her cheek against Matt’s warm skin.

Altruism one. Love zero.

Her parents would be proud.

But it really sucked.

“Brianna?” Matt whispered.

She opened one eye. The room was dark.

“I have to head out. There’s a diver in trouble.” He kissed her forehead. “I shouldn’t be too long. I’ll be back to take you to airport in the morning.”

“’Kay, love you.”

“Love you, too.” He kissed her lips. “Sweet dreams.”

She smiled sleepily and closed her eyes.

The alarm woke her at seven. The space beside her on the bed was cold, and the house was quiet.

She made a coffee and grabbed a shower. She used Matt’s shampoo so his scent would be close to her all day. After she dressed, she went to the kitchen to leave a note. There wasn’t much time left if she wanted to make her flight. It was the first time in three weeks she regretted not having her cell phone with her. They hadn’t even exchanged numbers. Where are you, Matt? She sighed and found a pen and paper.

Miss you already. She drew a heart and wrote her name beside it.

A knock on the door had her skipping over. He made it back.

When she pulled open the door, Kirk winced at her sigh. “Sorry, you were probably hoping for Matt. He sent me to drive you to the airport. He had to take a patient over to Cayman Brac to use the hyperbaric chamber. A young diver developed decompression sickness during the night and was in rough shape. Matt thought he’d be able to get away, but there’s no one else to run the show.”

“Oh, sounds serious.” She tried to keep the disappointment from her voice.

“Yeah. I know I’m second best, but I’m at your disposal.”

Brianna gave a crooked smile. “Thanks. I appreciate it. My luggage is over at the villa. I’d like to say good-bye to Jerome and Maria, and then I’ll be ready to go.”

He held the door open. “Lead the way.”

“Oh, just a sec.” She dashed back into the kitchen and added her cell phone number to the note. She sighed and looked at what she’d written.

What was she doing? She’d said no to his proposal and couldn’t see living in this fantasy life. It was time to get back to the real world … and let him go. She tore her number off the bottom. A wave of regret washed over her.

“We should get going, Brianna,” Kirk called from the front door.

She turned on her heel and headed out. At the villa, she made one quick look around to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind and then stopped at the reception.

Brianna hugged Maria and Jerome, her heart squeezing at their good-bye.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Maria said. “Now that you know where we are, you come visit us often.”

Brianna sniffled. “I will.” Unlikely. Tears blurred her vision. “Thank you for a wonderful holiday.”

“It’s not us you should be thanking,” Jerome said.

Maria nudged him with a shake of her head. “Of course. Our pleasure. You have a safe trip home.”

“Thanks, Maria. Bye, Jerome.” With a wave, she joined Kirk in the car. Traffic was light as they made their way to the airport. “Thanks for driving me. I really do appreciate it.”

“No problem. I’m happy to be Matt’s wingman.” He pulled up to the entrance and helped Brianna with her suitcase.

Brianna gave him a quick hug. “Thanks. Say good-bye to Matt for me.”

“Will do. Would you like me to pass along a kiss for him, too?” He puckered his lips.

“Ah, tempting, but no.”

Kirk laughed, held out his hand, and grasped hers between his. “Matt’s a lucky guy. Safe journey.”

Was Matt lucky? Brianna smiled weakly, blinking back tears. She picked up her luggage and walked into the terminal. What was harder – having to say good-bye to Matt or not being able to?

Chapter 14

What would Matt be doing now? The elderly woman sitting across from Brianna stopped speaking and looked at her expectantly. Brianna looked at the blank chart in front of her and winced.

The woman clucked. “You’re obviously not interested in my problem.”

Brianna sighed. She really needed to pull it together, or she wouldn’t pass this rotation. “I’m really sorry, Mrs. Irving. I’m distracted, and that’s not fair to you. I do want to get to the bottom of this. How long does the stiffness in your joints last in the morning?”

Mrs. Irving was happy to spend another twenty minutes describing her aches and pains. Brianna did a thorough physical examination and then suggested a management plan that had Mrs. Irving nodding in approval.

When the patient left, Brianna sat back in her chair and stared out the window. It was a beautiful spring day – a little warm for mid-April, but no one was complaining. The sunshine put everyone in a good mood … except her. She fingered the necklace around her neck and tried to shake the melancholy.

She’d been home for six weeks and had another six to go before her exam. It was time to start making some decisions about her future.

Scary to think she’d be done in June. She’d been wading through molasses for the last eighteen months, and now, when she could have used an extra five hours each day, she was racing down a waterslide.

Sooner or later, preferably sooner, she had to nail down where she wanted to work. She’d had an offer to join a family practice here in Rivermede and received a letter from Mitchell Alexander inviting her to Strathaven, a smaller town farther north. That opportunity sounded interesting.

She sighed. It should have sounded interesting, but it really didn’t. That was the problem. She was having trouble drumming up enthusiasm for any of it.

Even more pressing, she needed to make arrangements for her last rotation coming up in two weeks. Her rotation with the Riverview Family Health Team was finishing, and her plan to work with a dermatologist had fallen through at the last minute. He’d decided to take holidays. Probably going some place exotic and hot … to fall in love and get his heart broken.

A chickadee flew to a branch on a tree outside the window and chirped. Not a care in the world. And no regrets.

Brianna shifted restlessly. She hadn’t heard from Matt. Not surprising, really, but she’d hoped. His ring hung around her neck. That was probably wrong too, but she couldn’t help it. She should’ve left it behind, had actually intended to, but on the plane halfway home, she’d realized she still had it on. Every time she tried to take it off, she couldn’t do it. It left her feeling … bereft. Like his love had been taken away.

She breathed deeply and blinked away tears. Not the time or place for this. Her next patient was waiting. She counted to ten and exhaled.

Tonight she’d sit down with a bottle of wine, one that her father recommended, and sort out her future. She’d pick a rotation, accept a job offer, and mail the ring back to Matt. It was time to take control and make concrete plans. She stood up, resolved.

And then caught the reflection of the ring in the mirror over the sink. Who was she kidding? She’d dig into the tub of chocolate caramel ice cream in her freezer and procrastinate for another day.

At five p.m., Brianna knew she’d had enough for the day when she couldn’t care less about the patient’s problem. She hoped her facial expression didn’t reflect the “You think that’s bad, you should hear what I’m dealing with” thought that ran through her head.

She suppressed her inner grouch and found some patience. “How long have you had the lower back pain?”

“Off and on for two years now.” Liam, an older looking thirty-three-year-old, rubbed his back.

“What made you decide to come today about it?”

“I was next door buying some soda and decided to stop by to see if there was an appointment available. I guess there was a cancellation. Lucky for me.”

And unlucky for me. Stop. Be nice. “Has the pain changed?”

“It comes and goes. Started when I moved a whopping son-of-a … gun television set for a friend. Never should’ve done it. Sometimes I don’t feel the pain at all, and other times it’s nagging all day.”

“Any radiation down your legs or numbness and tingling?”

Liam shook his head. “No.”

“Does the pain ever wake you at night?”

He made a face. “Can’t say so.”

“Any problems with your bladder or bowel control?”

“No.”

“Any other symptoms, like fever or weight loss?”

He laughed and rubbed the gut hanging over his belt. “I’d have to say no. I work at the hardware store, and it aches after an eight-hour shift when I’m standing all day, or if I spend too much in my workshop. I just wondered if you had anything stronger than the over-the-counter painkillers.”

Brianna suppressed a sigh. Drug seeker. Now now, she chided herself. Show some empathy. “Let me examine you, and then we can discuss that.”

When she was satisfied it was a muscular problem with no neurologic involvement, she sat down and explained the diagnosis.

“It’s like any pulled muscle – the best treatment is ice and exercise. Ice helps to settle the inflammation but wrap it in a small towel so it’s not directly against the skin. Fifteen minutes on and at least half an hour off. Exercise is key. You want to strengthen your core muscles and stretch the muscles of your back.”

“Oh, I’ve been lying in bed when it gets bad.”

“No, don’t do that. There’s a lot of good evidence to show that it’s better to keep moving.” She demonstrated a series of exercises that he could do and gave him written instructions.

“What about painkillers or heat? I found a hot shower feels good.”

“Applying heat is fine, especially as it heals. Muscle relaxants may help, but if the pain isn’t interfering with your daily activities or sleep, you’re better off not using anything. The pain is a guide. You shouldn’t mask it and then overdo it.”

He patted his belly. “Guess the beer gut has got to go.”

She smiled sympathetically. “You’ll feel better. And the excess weight can put you at risk for diabetes and high blood pressure.”

“Don’t want that.”

“No. So less soda.” She eyed him with a look. “And beer.”

“My two vices.” Liam smiled wryly. “I kinda knew you’d say something like that, which is why I waited two years.”

She laughed. “Maybe we should check your blood pressure while you’re here.”

“Ah, that’s all right. I won’t wait so long until my next visit.”

She nodded. “If you’d like help with weight loss or want to talk to a dietician, come back and we’ll set something up for you.”

“Will do. Thanks, doc.”

“You’re welcome.”

Brianna reviewed the patient with her supervisor and made a note in the chart. She checked the schedule. Done. Thank goodness.

Now on to part two of her wildly exciting day – a fun evening reviewing the management of stress incontinence with Ben and Jerry for company.

Chapter 15

Brianna leaned against the counter in her kitchen and peered at the ice cream container in her hand. She had burrowed a hole down the center chasing the bits of caramel. Her work was done. And she had the nausea to prove it. It was really too bad that ice cream didn’t help that empty feeling in her chest where her heart used to be.

The sugar rush gave her a temporary boost, but she really needed to eat something somewhat nutritious. She put the carton in the freezer and set the spoon in the sink to wash later.

She picked up the backpack that she’d dumped on the floor when she’d walked in the door and set it beside her desk. Flipping through the mail, she sorted out the bills. It was a lot less stressful getting bills in the mail with a healthy balance in her checking account. As long as she didn’t blow it all on ice cream, she’d be fine.

In her bedroom she changed into leggings and a T-shirt and pulled her hair into a ponytail. A quick bite to eat, and then it was time to hit the books. And dream of the first of June, when she wouldn’t have to study every night.

A knock on her door made her jump. She looked through the peephole and then jerked back to turn the bolt with unsteady hands.

“Hi.” Matt smiled crookedly and held up a bag of food. “Wondering if you’d like to share dinner with me.”

Brianna’s heart pounded, and she jumped into his arms. Matt dropped the bag and wrapped his arms around her.

“Oh Matt, I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered.

“Me too, Brie, me too.”

She ran her hands through his hair as they kissed. The ache in her heart eased, and she held on tightly. In that moment, she could stop pretending she didn’t care. She could stop trying to convince herself that leaving had been the right decision, and instead, let the love she felt, the absolute joy that came with it, spill out. She let out a shaky breath when it started to overwhelm her.

Matt nudged the bag of food into the apartment with his foot and carried her inside. Brianna reached out and closed the door behind them.

“Bedroom’s on the left.” She showered kisses on his face. “My left. My left.”

Matt chuckled and went the other way.

He smelled of fresh soap and his woodsy shampoo. She’d really missed that. “In here.”

He carried her into the room and set her on the bed. She pulled the band from her hair and lifted her shirt over her head. Matt unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it out of his jeans, and lay down beside her. As their lips met, she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, ran her hands over the smooth skin of his back, and hugged him close. It felt good to have his weight on her, his skin against hers. The strong muscles of his arms, the contour of his chest, were familiar. And she wanted more. She pulled down his zipper and pushed away his clothes as he tasted the sensitive skin of her neck.

“You’re still wearing it,” he murmured, following the chain in a trail with his tongue.

“I’ve kept you close to my heart,” she whispered. He looked her in the eye, and Brianna’s heart ached. “It was hard leaving.”

“It was hard staying, without you.” He teased her lips apart and deepened the kiss. She was breathless when he shifted, taking her breast in his mouth, teasing and laving the taut nipple. He removed her leggings, stroking the skin with his hands, sending shivers down her spine. He made his way back up to her thighs, with feather light kisses, and parted her legs. A sweep of his tongue across the sensitive folds had her bucking and catching her breath. Soft and moist, pressure and release had her spiraling out of control.

“Matt.” She pulled him up and clung to him tightly until the tremors left her languid and spent. “Did you bring a condom? I don’t have any.”

“In my pocket.” He found his pants on the floor and threw the packet on the nightstand. She curled up against him when he joined her again. “You’re beautiful, Brianna. I’ll never get tired of watching you, being with you.”

“I feel the same way about you, Matt. I knew it would be hard to be apart, but it was awful.” She stroked his cheek. “I’m so glad you came.”

He kissed her. “I couldn’t stay away.” His hands roamed. She arched closer, rubbing against him, wanting him inside.

He tore open the condom and rolled it on. Brianna opened for him and groaned softly as her body tightened around him. She matched each thrust, craved the closeness. She was his and he was hers. Her heart filled to overflowing.

She tried to hold on, but the pressure built and slipped out of reach as they climaxed. Slick with sweat, they held each other and let their breathing and their heart rates slow. A tear slipped down the side of Brianna’s cheek, and she brushed it away before Matt could see. How could something that felt so right be so bittersweetly hard to hold onto?

Brianna set a candle on the kitchen table and lit it.

“That T-shirt looks better on you than me,” Matt said from behind her, running a hand up underneath the edge from her thigh to her bare breast.

Brianna pressed into his touch and closed her eyes. “I love that it smells like you.” She set the lighter down and turned to face him. She ran her hands up the back of his neck and through his hair. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in jeans.” She hummed in the back of her throat. “Very sexy.” The top button was undone, and dark hair in a vee on his abdomen dipped below the waistline. She pressed a kiss to his collarbone.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t get back in time to say good-bye before you left the island. When I got home, I realized that I didn’t have any way to contact you.”

“How did you find me?”

“I contacted your parents. They say hi, by the way.”

Brianna blinked. “What?”

Matt smiled. “Let’s get some food, and I’ll explain. I hope you like Indian.” He retrieved the bag from the front door and arranged the cartons on the table. Brianna grabbed plates and cutlery, and they sat down together.

“My parents? Really?” Brianna asked as they filled their plates.

Matt nodded. “I didn’t have your address or cell phone number. Luckily, your dad remembered me. Although he checked with the higher authority before releasing any info.”

“He asked my mom.”

He waved a fork. “Exactly.”

“And since my mom knew I was moping around, she was probably all gung-ho.”

“Very enthusiastic.” He tore a piece of naan and handed it to her. “I really like your mom.”

Brianna smiled and then sobered, asking the question but not really wanting to hear the answer. “How long can you stay?”

“That depends on you. I arranged a three-week locum. I’m hoping you’ll come with me when I go back.”

Her heart raced and her eyes filled with tears. She picked at her food, shifting it around on her plate, and then looked up at Matt. “I want to say yes. I’ve missed you so much. But nothing’s really changed. My life is here.”

Matt reached for her hand and linked his fingers with hers. “We’re together; that’s a start. I can be patient and wait for you to finish and write your exams.”

“I love you, Matt. I’m happier when I’m with you. But I want to make sure you’ve fallen in love with the real me.” She took a bite of the lamb korma and rice. “I can be cranky and irritable at the end of the day.”

“I don’t believe that,” he said, tongue-in-cheek, and smiled wryly. “You can put your feet up and relax while I make dinner.”

“My hours won’t always be nine to five. And for the next two months, I’ll be studying every evening.”

He leaned over and kissed her. “I know. I’ve been there.”

“I don’t wear make-up. And my hair gets frizzy.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Did you wear make-up on the island? I don’t think so.”

“And the sun doesn’t always shine. Sometimes it rains.”

He laughed. “I don’t need sunshine, I just need you in my life.” He sipped his wine. “I’m in it for the long haul, and we were meant to be together. Island, mainland, Mars,” he said with a shrug. “Doesn’t matter to me.” He swirled the wine in his glass. “My feelings for you are real, Brianna. Good, bad, and everything in between. You can’t discourage me.” Brianna’s heart skipped a beat at the look of love in his eyes. “The university asked me to give a talk on hyperbaric medicine, and there’s some business I could do here in Rivermede. I could stick around, take it slow, and … be patient.”

“You’ll stay here? In my apartment?”

He smiled. “Might be hard to take it slow that way. I’ve got a place at Bennett Suites on the Water.”

She sighed. “Probably best, but don’t be a stranger.”

“Never.” He stood up and pulled her into his arms. “Do you have studying to do tonight?” He trailed kisses along her jawline.

She shivered with pleasure. “I think there’s room to adjust the schedule.”

Chapter 16

Matt slipped out in the wee hours of the morning, and Brianna slept soundly until her alarm went off at six. She yawned and stretched, thinking it was the best sleep she’d had since she’d returned home from her vacation. She showered and dressed and went into the kitchen for coffee, where she saw Matt’s note on the counter.

Have a great day. I’ll bring dinner tonight. Text me when you’re done for the day. Love you. He’d included his number.

Brianna sent off a text. Miss you already. See you tonight. xxoo

She walked to work thinking about how love was so tricky. How could this feeling last and stay strong? It was so intense.

She put aside her misgivings and focused on work. The clinic was steady all day. She had a quick break for lunch but wanted to finish on time, so she kept going. Late afternoon, she escorted a patient back to the waiting room and was stopped by a nurse.

“Dr. Scott, could you sign this form for a patient? It’s an application for a handicap permit.”

“Sure.” She looked over the paperwork.

“Look at this, Tash – Forbes’ list of billionaires under thirty.” Two young women, one in a pink jacket, one dressed in black from head to toe, sat in the waiting room with their heads close together looking at a magazine.

“One point two, one point six billion.” Tasha shook her head. “How do they make that kind of money by thirty?”

Her friend snorted. “How do they make that kind of money ever. It’s a good month when I can cover my share of the rent. Look at them.” She pointed at a photograph. “They’re all gorgeous to boot.” She flipped to the next page.

Tasha stopped her. “Okay, there’s mine. Dr. Matt Gaelen. The man of my dreams.”

Brianna’s ears perked up. Did she say Matt Gaelen?

“Worth a cool two billion.” Tasha’s friend grinned at her. “Nice round figure. Plus, he’s a doctor. Can’t go wrong there.”

“Now, if I only knew where to find him,” Tasha said wistfully.

He’ll be at my apartment at six o’clock making me dinner, Brianna thought in shock. She must have misheard the name. That was crazy.

Tasha’s friend nudged her with a grin. “Yeah, that’s your biggest obstacle.”

The nurse walked into the waiting and called Tasha’s name. Tasha grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her along. “Celine, you have to come with me.” Celine dropped the magazine on the side table and followed.

Brianna signed the forms and left them on the desk to be faxed, and then she slipped into the waiting room and picked up the magazine. She took it back to the doctor’s office and flipped through it.

She stopped with a double-take at Matt’s smiling face. There he was. Page fourteen, front and center.

Dr. Matt Gaelen, age twenty-eight. Net worth: two billion dollars.

It was her Matt. Her Matt was worth two billion dollars?

She couldn’t even comprehend how much money that was. He didn’t act like he had two billion dollars. She grimaced. Not that she knew any billionaires to compare him with, but he was so down-to-earth, so friendly. He rode a bicycle, cooked his own dinners, and did his own grocery shopping. Jeez. No wonder he could afford fresh produce on the island, and that would explain the room at Bennett Suites on the Water. He could probably buy the building.

Two billion dollars. She never would’ve guessed.

And he hadn’t mentioned it. Why not? She frowned. Not the easiest thing to slip into a conversation, she supposed. Hey, I’m worth a cool two bil. How about you? Not classy. I happen to be one of the wealthiest bachelors in the world. She’d have run for the hills. He was completely out of her league.

In fact, she should still run for the hills. She couldn’t date a billionaire. It had fantasy written all over it, and that’s exactly what she feared. None of it was real. She was right all along.

The nurse poked her head in the room. “The next patient is waiting for you.”

“Thanks, Margaret. I’ll be right there.”

She tore the page out of the magazine and stuffed it in her backpack.

Dinner tonight should be interesting.

Chapter 17

Brianna finished work at six o’clock and texted Matt. Just heading home.

The reply was quick. Great. See you in twenty.

She was home in ten minutes and changed into jeans and a thin sweater. And then quickly stripped, found her lacy bra and matching thong, and dressed again.

Just in case.

She shook her head. No just in case, she told herself sternly. She had three chapters of internal medicine to review that night. No excuses. If she didn’t have any self-control with Matt, there’d be no more dinners. She could not afford to fail these exams. It might not seem so important when Matt was there, but what would happen when reality set in and he left? There’d be no billionaire boyfriend (if that was even true) making her dinner. She’d have no degree, no license, no job, and no income. And the chances of that happening were greater than the odds of Matt sticking around, no matter what he said. She sighed. And of all of those, she’d miss Matt the most. She wished it could work.

She went into the kitchen to make a cup of tea. The knock on the door made her heart skip a beat. She blew out a breath and went to answer it.

Matt, carrying two paper bags in his arms, smiled and leaned in to kiss her. “Hi.”

She could write the exams again next year.

No.

She stepped back to let him in. “Hi. Let me help you.” She reached for one of the bags.

He followed her into the kitchen. “How was your day?”

One hundred per cent better since you stepped through the door. “Busy. Learned a lot. Is that scary? That I’m still learning?”

He shrugged. “Par for the course. That’s the way medicine is. You should be learning something every day.”

“I’m on the right track, then.” She gave a crooked smile and set the bag on the counter. “What’s in here?”

He pulled out two plastic containers and a foil package. “I thought we’d have chicken and black olive tapenade quesadillas, with a spicy tomato salad, and pie for dessert.”

“You spoil me,” she said with an uneasy laugh.

“You’re easy to spoil. My suite has a kitchen and I had some free time, so I puttered around and put some of it together.” He set a baker’s box on the counter. “And Waver’s Bakery is conveniently beside the hotel.”

She moved beside him, slid her finger along the edge of the baker’s box to remove the tape, and lifted the lid. “Yum. Blueberry’s my favorite.” She glanced at him in surprise.

His smile widened. “I know.” He pressed his lips gently to hers, and her heart stirred. “Show me where the frying pan is, and I’ll get these made.”

To hell with studying. “Or we could skip dinner and get right to dessert,” she said, wrapping her arms around him.

He hugged her back and stroked her hair. “Very tempting, but I won’t be the reason you don’t ace those exams. You’re supposed to be the strong one,” he said, giving her a look. “Maybe we need to have a moratorium on sex until this exam is done.”

“What? I don’t think that’s a good idea. Sex enhances your performance. I’m sure that’s been proven in numerous studies.” She opened a cabinet, pulled out the frying pan, and set it on the stove.

He laughed. “I think that’s for athletes.” He unwrapped the package of tortillas. “Plate?”

“I’m an athlete, sort of. Does being a mathlete count?” She reached behind him, stroked his arm as she moved, and rubbed her breasts against his chest. “I calculate dosages of drugs every day.” She handed him a plate.

“And that’s a large part of the exam coming up?”

She pressed her lips together and then smiled slowly. “I’m wearing my lace bra and matching thong.” She smiled in satisfaction when the front of his pants tightened.

He pointed a finger at her. “That’s low.” He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Glaciers, avalanches, skating ponds, cold drinks,” he muttered, trying to regain control. He opened his eyes and squinted at her. “This is for your own good. Apparently, I’m going to have to be the strong one.” He took her by the shoulders, turned her around, and gently shoved her toward the island. “Go sit down. A safe distance from me.” He moved her tea within reach. “Drink your tea and tell me three things you learned today.” He turned on the heat and layered the cooked chicken and black olive tapenade on a tortilla. He sprinkled cheese on top, covered it all with another tortilla, and set it in the frying pan.

Brianna sipped her tea. “Let’s see. I learned that when patients tell me they drink six beers a week, they probably really drink closer to twelve.”

He flipped the first quesadilla. “A healthy amount of skepticism is important.”

She nodded. “Yes. I also learned that patients would rather take pills than make changes to their diet and lifestyle. My job is to convince them otherwise.”

He removed the first tortilla, assembled the next one, and set it gently in the frying pan. “True, especially when it comes to exercise, alcohol, and, surprisingly, sleep habits. That’s the less glamorous side of medicine. What’s number three?”

Brianna swirled the tea, now cold, in the cup. “I learned,” she paused, “that your net worth is two billion dollars.”

Matt tensed. Brianna’s heart pounded.

Chapter 18

Matt reached for the handle of the frying pan and accidentally bumped a spoon. It bounced, knocked over the carton of cherry tomatoes, and scattered them all over the counter and floor.

He swore, and Brianna jumped up and came around the island to help pick them up.

It was inevitable, he supposed. He couldn’t put off the conversation any longer. She’d probably be eager to say yes to his proposal now.

He bent down to scoop up the tomatoes. “Where’s the garbage?”

Brianna grabbed a bowl and knelt beside him. “They’re still good. We’ll just wash them again.”

A faint odor of burnt food filled the air. He lifted the frying pan off the heat and transferred the quesadilla to the plate.

Brianna collected the last of the cherry tomatoes and ran them under the water at the sink. She drained the water and handed the bowl to him. “Good as new.”

He took the bowl. “It’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

Brianna raised her eyebrows. “They may be a bit bruised, but I’m sure they’ll taste the same.”

He nodded with a wry smile. She didn’t want to talk about it? It needed to be out in the open. “The two billion.”

“Ah.” She went to sit down. “Unless they’re off by four or five zeros, it’s still impressive.”

“How did that come up today?”

“A couple of young women in the waiting room were drooling over your picture in Forbes magazine. Nice picture, by the way.”

He snorted. “Yeah, thanks. It was better than last year, when they put it on the cover.” He handed her a knife and cutting board and put the cherry tomatoes in front of her. “They need to be chopped in half.” He covered the quesadillas with foil to keep them warm and wiped out the frying pan. “Olive oil and vinegar?”

She pointed to a cupboard above his head. “How did you do it? How did you get that much money?” She paused and looked at him. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

He smiled slightly. “No, I don’t mind. My grandfather founded Poplin Pharmaceuticals.”

“Insulin and vaccines.”

“Yup. And more recently, I’ve run with a product development branch.” He poured olive oil in the frying pan and turned on the heat.

“You have?”

He nodded. “Part of the reason I work part-time on the island. I hold the patents for the Diabetic Foot Pad and the Renal Filtration Meter.”

“You’re kidding? Those are your ideas? They’re both excellent products. I’m always recommending them to patients. The foot pad is so easy to use – affordable and lightweight. I’m sure it’s saved a few patients from amputation.”

He glanced over and grinned. “Thanks. I had the idea during medical school when I saw an elderly diabetic with classic neuropathy who didn’t have the flexibility to check the bottom of his feet.” He added curry powder and garlic to the oil, and the spicy aroma filled the air.

“It’s brilliant. Just stand on the pad and get a scan. The coolest part is the photo it sends directly to their doctor if there’s tissue breakdown.” She cut the last tomato in half and pushed the bowl closer to him.

He nodded and took the pan off the heat. “It’s only been around for three years, but already we’re looking to upgrade the camera and expand into other markets. Same with the filtration meter. Right now it’s marketed for chronic renal disease, but the next step is to combine it with the glucometer so that with one pinprick, diabetics can get sugar levels and a reading for their kidney function.”

“Two for the price of one.”

“Exactly.” He stirred in white vinegar and added the cherry tomatoes to the oil and spices. “I’ve been collaborating on a new product with a classmate of mine who’s an endocrinologist. Let me show you.” He wiped his hands on a towel and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through the photos and showed her. “It’s a ring.”

She took his phone. “Gorgeous.” The simple gold band had subtle beading around the edge.

“There are a few styles to choose from.” He swiped and showed her a plain band and one with a more intricate floral design. “It’s actually a glucometer. It checks blood sugar and sends a message to an insulin pump or a cell phone so insulin dosages can be adjusted.” He couldn’t keep the excitement from his voice. “It uses tiny painless lancets around the base of the finger. The natural movement of the ring means that the site will be rotated. It should be out by the end of the year.”

“That is amazing. How do you come up with this stuff?”

He shrugged and smiled. “The best part is that when I have an idea, I have a whole division to bring it to fruition. I don’t have to be hands-on. I can design and develop from Little Cayman. The best of both worlds. I’m pretty lucky.”

“And hard-working. Smart, creative, thoughtful.”

He smiled. “Once you get your first billion and invest it wisely, the second billion is a lot easier.”

She snorted. “Something I’ll never experience.” A shadow crossed her expression.

“What’s wrong?” He poured the tomato salad in a bowl and carried it to the table.

“Nothing’s wrong. Exactly.” She sighed and went to get plates and cutlery. “Our worlds are so different. I thought the biggest obstacle was the difference between an island paradise and this.” She waved her hand around her apartment. “A mundane mainland. But that’s not even the worst part. This side of you, the designer, the inventor, is something else completely. You are completely out of my league.”

He set the quesadillas beside the salad. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not in any league.” They sat down across from each other at the table.

“You’re a billionaire.” She looked at him with wide eyes and a sad smile.

He frowned. She was pushing him away? Over his money? No. “That’s just part of who I am.” He searched her face. “And not even the most important part.” Surely she understood that.

Her eyes filled. “It’s a big part, though. It has to influence how you live, who you hang out with.”

Who you marry? She hadn’t said it, but he’d heard the uncertainty in her voice. He leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. He wanted to take her in his arms, but he needed her to understand first. “Brianna, you lived with me for three weeks. Was it evident? Be honest.”

She sighed. “No.”

He nodded and sat back. “It doesn’t change anything.”

“It does, Matt. It changes everything,” she whispered. “How would I fit in to your world?”

Matt’s heart pounded. She was slipping away. “I want you to be my wife,” he said firmly. “I love you. You, Brianna. Your smile, your spirit, your patience, your ambition. Your bank account doesn’t even factor into it.” Fear masked as anger colored his tone. “It hasn’t. And it shouldn’t.”

“I wish I could believe that.” She brushed a tear from her cheek.

Matt sighed, stood up, and held out his hand to her. She stood, and he folded her into his arms and held her close. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest.

“I’m scared,” she whispered.

He kissed her hair. “Me too. I want forever with you, Brie, and I’m scared you’ll walk away.”

“I don’t think I’m good enough. I’m afraid your money will come between us. I love you so much.”

Matt pulled back and looked her in the eye. “It’ll only be between us if we put it there. It’s a number, Brianna. The company is responsible for the welfare of a lot of people. It’s their livelihood, and because of that I have a responsibility to keep it viable and profitable.” He smiled. “Plus, I love that side of what I do. But money isn’t what drives me. It never has and it never will.” He rubbed her arms. “The media makes a big thing of it, which is why I love living on Little Cayman. I’m out of the spotlight. I can go where I want, do what I want. And who comes and goes on the island is carefully monitored. It’s the best of both worlds – the security and the freedom.” He hugged her close. “I was pretty content there until you came along and made me see how much more there was to life. I’ve really missed you the last six weeks.”

“I missed you too, Matt. My favorite moments were sitting quietly sharing our days. And, of course, the fact that you cook for me.”

“And I haven’t even made my famous pizza for you.”

She sighed. “Do you really think we can make this work?”

“If we love each other.”

She took his face between her hands. “My heart is bursting with love for you, Matt. I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to.”

He grinned. “Then you’ll say yes?” His heart raced.

She undid her necklace, slid the ring off the chain, and handed it to him.

His hand shook as he held it. “Brianna Scott, I promise to love you and cherish you every day for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, yes please.”

Emotion washed over him – a mixture of relief and a staggering love for the woman standing in front of him, with shining eyes. He felt his own eyes water. He slid the ring on her finger and kissed her deeply. She jumped in his arms, and he staggered back and then held firm.

“This calls for a naked celebration,” she said, between kisses.

He laughed. “I love that idea, but how’s the studying coming along?”

“Magnificently.”

“You’re behind, aren’t you?”

“Perhaps, but a wise woman once told me that a hot bout of sex was good energy for studying.”

“Doesn’t sound like the advice a mom would give her daughter.”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Nope. It was Maisy James.”

“Maisy. The matchmaker behind us meeting?”

“Yes. Maybe she didn’t send you, but if it wasn’t for her, I never would’ve met you. Turns out, you are the one for me.” She grinned and pressed her lips to his. “Just goes to show, we should heed her advice.”

Matt laughed and carried her down the hall. “I’ll be forever grateful to her. I love you, Brianna.”

Epilogue

Brianna checked her email for the umpteenth time, but this time the bold lettering of new mail set her heart racing. She opened the email, skimmed the contents, and whooped with joy. She’d done it! She’d passed her exams.

“Matt,” she called out. She unfolded her legs from her sitting position on the wicker chair and dashed outside.

Matt, wearing a wide-brimmed hat, looked up from the gardening he was doing under the coconut tree. His smile broadened when he saw her expression, and he stood.

“I passed.” She jumped into his arms and he twirled her around.

“Congratulations!” He set her down and kissed her. “That’s awesome. I’m so proud of you.”

Matt had stayed with her in Rivermede for three weeks and then had left to spend a few days with his parents. He’d returned to Little Cayman, and she’d buckled down and studied every waking moment of the three weeks they were apart. They’d kept in touch with video chats and email, but as soon as her exams were finished, she’d packed up her apartment and joined him on the island. She’d completed all the paperwork to practice medicine in Little Cayman. The final step was the confirmation that she’d passed her exams.

“Thanks,” she said breathlessly. “I’m so excited. I can finally work at the clinic. This break has been wonderful, but I’m really looking forward to putting my stethoscope to use.”

“There are patients booked and waiting. They’ll be happy to fill your days for you.”

She smiled and sighed. “Can’t wait.” She leaned back and looked him in the eye. “It’s almost as exciting as planning our wedding.”

He grinned. “Have you decided what you want?”

“I like your idea of a casual wedding on the beach with a gourmet dinner under the stars. Romantic and simple.”

“We can charter a flight and book a block of rooms at the hotel. You can invite whoever you want.”

Brianna nodded. “Guests would love that. Not sure I want to wait until February,” she said, making a face, “but if we do, it’ll be a nice break from winter for everyone.”

“Including Maisy James. I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet her.”

“She was sorry she didn’t meet you, too. Wanted to check you out,” Brianna said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Hah. Tell her you’ll check me out for her.” He brushed her hair from her face and kissed her. “Where would you like to go for our honeymoon?”

“I’d like to stay right here. You and me and our island paradise. It’s all I want, all I need.”

He hugged her tight. “Me too. I love you, Brianna.”

“I love you, too.” She pulled back, took his hand, and tugged him inside. “And there’s no more studying to worry about.”

He laughed and scooped her up. “That calls for a naked celebration.”

About the Author

Linda O'Connor started writing a few years ago when she needed a creative outlet other than subtly rearranging the displays at the local home décor store. It turns out she loves writing romantic comedies and has a few more stories to tell. When not writing, she’s a physician at an Urgent Care Clinic (well, even when she is writing she’s a physician, and it shows up in her stories :D). She hangs out at www.lindaoconnor.net

Laugh every day. Love every minute.

More about the Perfectly series

Perfectly Honest

You never know where your words will take you . . .

When Mikaela Finn agreed to be Sam’s ‘fiancée’ for a weekend, she probably should have told him that she’s a doctor.

Sam O’Brien, aka ‘Dr. Eye Candy’, is trying to shed his playboy reputation and convince a small town hospital that he’s ready to settle down. But when his ‘fiancée’ helps deliver a baby in the middle of the meet and greet, it’s a bit of a shock. If he’d known the whole truth, he might have done things a little differently because somehow his ‘fiancée’ ends up stealing his job and his heart. Not exactly the change he wanted.

Lies and deceit – it’s a match made in heaven!

Perfectly Reasonable

Margo MacMillan finished medical school, but in the process, her self-confidence and self-esteem took a beating. So for the sake of self-preservation, she’s stepped away from medicine to re-group. In the meantime, painting soothes her soul and pays the bills.

Trace Bennett set his sights on a medical degree and has to prepare the perfect medical school application. His big plan is to paint his condo for a little feng shui divine luck. When Margo shows up to paint, he realizes he’s found exactly what he’s looking for. He just has to convince Margo to share more than the art of medicine.

She’s got it. He wants it. It’s Perfectly Reasonable.

Perfectly Planned

Chloe Keay is on the hunt for the perfect sperm donor, but who knew it would be this hard? So many things to consider in a father – sure height and hair color are important, but what about the real issues. How does he feel about bagpipe music? Does he buy the extended warranty? Skittles or M&Ms? She doesn’t want an average Joe. She’s narrowed it down to two candidates and has the perfect plan to pick the heir and the spare.

Staff Sergeant Rip Logan, head of the elite Tactics and Rescue Unit, has a gut feeling that Chloe Keay is trouble. She’s a sexy little spark plug who radiates innocence, but it doesn’t jibe with her suspicious behavior and probing questions. The fact that he’s attracted irritates him. What exactly is she after? And should he go with his gut or follow his heart? Planning for love – what could possibly go wrong?

Perfectly Christmas

On the first day of Christmas, his true love said to him, “Sorry, I have to work.”

That’s the life of a surgeon, and Dr. Madison Hayes wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dr. Quinn Malone has another priority. In the countdown to Christmas, he needs to convince his old flame that there’s more to life – and love – than the job itself.

This time, his heart is in it for the long haul. Really.

Romantic and . . . complicated – it’s Perfectly Christmas!

Perfectly Together

Newly graduated naturopathic doctor Jayden Locke has a dream – start a practice in small-town Emerson and never move again. She’s found the perfect office building to buy. It passes an inspection, design plans are drawn up, and the bank okays the loan. Only one problem.

Dr. Cole Cameron scoops it before she has a chance to submit an offer. What?

It’s a good investment. Cole isn’t interested in settling down. He works three jobs in three different towns and would just as soon keep moving. But something about Jayden’s defiant eyes and sexy smile makes him pause and reconsider.

What are the chances that a heart filled with wanderlust and a soul longing for a home fit Perfectly Together?

Find the Perfectly Series at www.lindaoconnor.net

Alpha Heat

Mandy Rosko

Andrea desperately needed a story. Her ex boyfriend, former movie star Xander Grey was the right guy to give it to her. She just has to go and meet him. Which shouldn’t be too awkward, since the last time she saw him was a hospital bed.

Xander’s family, a clan of dragon shifters, never appreciated his work. Dragons liked living in secrecy, and acting on a stage, or in front of a camera, was the most dishonourable and humiliating thing he could have done to them. Which was why they scarred his face.

Better him than his woman.

He let her go after that. He didn’t want her to see the man he’d become, but to see her again on the tropical resort he’d fled to is more than a shock, and stirring up old feelings.

Andrea, however, isn’t just after a story, and the secret she’s keeping could put them both in danger again.

Chapter 1

Was it at all possible for any city woman anywhere to have her sandaled feet on hot white sand, the ocean surf crashing just to her left, and listening to the sounds of surfers laughing with each other as they rode the waves with their Go-Pros attached to their helmets, and feel sick to her stomach?

Andrea had just learned that, yes, that was very possible.

It was January, and instead of making the shivering commute through the subways and sidewalks of New York, she was standing under the blazing sun, the scent and sounds of the ocean all around her, wearing a loose sun dress that was barely a dress, with a bikini top, and her camera bag around her shoulder.

She wanted to go home. She hated it here. This place was the fifth ring of hell.

Andrea sucked back a heavy breath, let it out, and then went on her walk.

She'd heard that Xander Grey may or may not be down here, soaking up the sun, or possibly surfing, and she needed to speak to him.

The interview needed to be done, and now that he was out of rehab, she could be one of the first to get a quote from him. Possibly a picture.

It wasn't every day a reporter got a story like that, about his fight with addiction and fall from grace, especially when that reporter happened to be an old flame.

God, she sounded so stupid even inside her own head.

Andrea walked along the beach. Of course she got sand between her toes, she hated that, so she wound up walking just close enough to the surf that the water rushing forward and back would wash off her feet every time.

She kept her eyes on the gorgeous, gleaming bodies on the beach, and off. She kept her eyes peeled on the men, not so much the women. This was a resort, but there were no children here, no families. Everyone was rich, but not everyone was famous, and the vast majority all looked as if they spent the better half of their days in a gym.

Or working on their tans out here.

The chests and shoulders were all bronzed and oiled as far as the eye could see. The women were lying on their stomachs, heads resting on their arms, with the backs of their bikini tops wide open for proper tanning. They hardly looked as if they needed it. The ones who kept their mermaid tails out were especially confusing to her.

What was the point of tanning when they were going to leave their legs out of the equation? Wouldn't that make the worst tan lines? Not that Andrea cared, but it seemed like something a hot, busty mermaid might care about. At the very least, it might dry out her scales.

Meanwhile, Andrea was the palest, and probably most normal, person here. She even kept an enormous straw hat over her head to keep the sun at bay. The sunglasses made her feel even more as if she was trying to hide something.

Had the sun not been so bright, people might've have mistaken her for a vampire. She used to get that joke all the time as a kid, and sometimes still did as an adult. Not a true redhead, but cherry blonde hair and freckles meant she still kept a healthy distance from the sun.

No sign of Xander.

Would these people know it if they'd seen him? He'd kept a relatively low profile, and he wasn't exactly that famous. She hadn't thought so, not that she was insulting him, but he'd always seemed more normal than a celebrity.

Except for that one time when it was proven how not normal he was.

Asking around wouldn't be the best idea. That would just get people interested. It would get them looking for Xander themselves, and that was known for scaring off a celebrity when they wanted to be alone.

Xander definitely wanted to be alone. She didn't need to be a psychic to know that much.

No sign of him anywhere.

She walked as far as she could go, inspecting every gorgeous body that might come even close to resembling Xander.

Except she hadn't seen him in three years. He would look similar, but he might not be quite as massively built as she remembered him to be. He'd been doing drugs. He could have gotten smaller. He was supposed to start filming for his first movie as part of his comeback next month. He might still be building up his muscle mass.

It didn't matter. Even if she thought someone at a distance looked somewhat like him, it always turned out to be someone else.

Andrea sighed. She pulled out her camera, taking some photos of the beach and the resort anyway. Those sorts of throwaways could always have a use.

Andrea didn't want to find him. Her guts were still constricting at the thought of seeing him, but she couldn't turn away from this either.

"They said you were here. Where are you?"

He might be back at the resort, sitting in his own private Jacuzzi, and socializing with no one else except for his personal trainer and the people in charge of his diet and nutrition.

Andrea looked back to the resort. She could see it from here, even though the building wasn’t that tall.

Which room was his? If he was actually hiding away from other people, she was going to have to do a little investigative journalism, or stalking, to find out where exactly he was so she could knock on his door.

Or she'd have to get lucky.

Maybe she could get lucky tomorrow?

Her plane had only just landed today. No one could expect her to find him so soon, right? It wasn't as if anyone actually thought she would make contact on day one with a former superstar who was purposely hiding away from the public eye.

Right?

Maybe she should keep looking. Andrea put her camera back into her bag. She started walking again, all the while white-knuckling the strap around her shoulder. Too much was riding on the pictures she needed to take and the things she needed to do.

Andrea continued to walk along the beach. She would need to search every inch of it available to the public.

A few of the guys coming in and out of the water took one look at her and asked if she wanted to join them later, one couple asked her to snap a photo of them using their phone—Andrea did that—but she otherwise kept to herself.

She walked until the crowds thinned and there were fewer towels and lawn chairs and umbrellas, and then kept going until there were none of these things at all.

The water looked almost rougher out here. There were some larger dark rocks and weeds poking out of the sand. This was clearly outside of the resort. There wasn't any trash that she could see, but the tall grass and rougher sand definitely let her know she was on unkempt land.

She would have turned around had it not been for the one other person who caught her eye in the distance.

At first she didn't know it was a person. She thought it was a boulder, or perhaps a child, but then, no, that was a man. He was just sitting there, in the sand with his knees up and spread out as he looked out across the water.

Andrea's heart slammed against her ribs in a violent tempo.

There was a pretty good chance that was not him. He could be another tourist, or possibly even a local. But she had to check it out. She would get just close enough that she would know for sure if that was Xander or not. The long khaki shorts and floral shirt weren't exactly his style, but he was wearing a hat and sunglasses.

Just the way a celebrity might when he didn't want to be noticed.

Andrea didn't know why they bothered. It wasn't as if that sort of thing ever worked.

She pulled her camera out. The lense would let her zoom in enough as she got closer. Step by step, it was as if she was making progress in inches, but she closed in on her target, lifted her camera, and...

She wasn't shocked, though her stupid heart wouldn't take the time to slow down in the least. It picked up speed, and now her feet were itching to turn around and walk as quickly and quietly as she could back to the resort before he could see her.

As if he sensed her eyes on him, even through the lense of the camera, Xander Grey, recovering addict and A-list actor, turned his gaze in her direction, revealing the other half of his face, his face marred with enough scars that even the wide sunglasses couldn't hide them.

When he spotted her and abruptly shot to his feet, Andrea quickly lowered her camera, turned around, and got out of there.

Chapter 2

Xander blinked. Then he got to his feet and started running after the woman who just turned her back on him and started to swiftly walk away.

His heart raced like it hadn’t in years, his breath catching in his throat when he needed it the most.

That was her. That was Andrea. She was here. What was she doing here?

With a camera.

Whatever. He didn’t care and it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting to her before she could vanish on him.

He’d forgotten her. He’d thought he’d forgotten her, but that was impossible now that she was here. He had to at least have a proper look at her.

As he chased, leaving the barren part of the beach for the area that had more tourists, cleaner sand, and the laughter of children, it occurred to him that he might be chasing down the wrong woman.

Andrea Cantrell wasn’t the only woman in the world with that cherry blonde hair, or those heart-shaped hips.

As he closed in on her, he knew he wasn’t wrong. That was definitely her. She even glanced back at him, as if to make sure he wasn’t following, but then turned around again quickly when she noted he was.

Xander stopped suddenly, his heart beating a hard drum against the inside of his ribs. He was actually out of breath. That was how much the sight of her had made him come undone.

“Andy?”

She stopped. Ten feet away, her shoulders tensed, and God, his hands ached to reach out and touch her smooth skin.

Just like he used to.

Andrea didn’t turn right away. She must have been weighing the pros and cons of doing so before she abruptly spun around, a smile on her face that was faker than anything his agent could have given him.

She never used to smile at him like that, but she likely wasn’t too thrilled by the idea of having him follow her around like a lost puppy in a public space either.

“Xander, hi,” she said in a light, airy voice, as if they hadn’t seen each other in three days and were simply passing by one another. Total coincidence, nothing to do with anything.

As if they hadn’t once meant something to each other.

Xander’s throat was inexplicably dry. He didn’t understand it, and he didn’t like it. “What…what are you doing here?”

A stupid question to ask. He shouldn’t have bothered. He could see the camera bag on her shoulder. He’d watched her fumble to get the camera in it as she power walked away from him.

Of course there was only one reason for her to be here. She was getting photos. Of him.

“I…” Andrea clearly realized where his gaze had fallen to, and why. She stumbled over her words for a minute, her hands clenching around the strap of her camera. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I was sent to get some pictures. That’s it, I promise.”

She was still a bad liar, but he didn’t think it would be fair to throw that in her face right now. He didn’t want to embarrass her. He never wanted to do something like that.

“You sure you don’t need an interview, too?”

She was smart enough to recognize the olive branch for what it was. He always liked that about her, her intelligence.

Except the rising color spreading across her cheeks, and the way she bit those plump lips together, spoke of her embarrassment. He didn’t understand. Before, she would have laughed off a situation like this with him.

Well, he supposed things had changed. The way she bit her lower lip, however, didn’t.

He had to look away before he started thinking too deeply about how he wanted to bite that lip for her.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I don’t mind.”

He knew she was sent here for more than a picture, so he might as well be as gentle as possible about this. If he wasn’t, then there was the very real chance she could end up running from him. It would be out of character for her, but so much could have changed in the time they’d spent apart.

He didn’t want that. He wanted her right here. Where he could see her.

He didn’t want her to leave him again.

“I…” The flushed look to her cheeks and ears had nothing to do with the sun, not with that wide straw had on her head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” She broke off again, one hand on her hip while she brought the other hand up to bite down on her knuckle.

“It’s fine, really. I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t mind.” Was he coming off as desperate? He didn’t want that. “If you want, I’m perfectly happy to sit down with you and have a talk.”

“No, don’t do that.”

“It’s honestly okay. I know this is your job. If it’ll help you get ahead, then I want to do it.”

Her eyes widened just a touch, allowing Xander to drink in that blue-gray color he used to admire so much. And from a much closer distance than this. They would be in bed together, because they’d either just woken up, or had ripped each other out of their clothes and finished rocking each other’s worlds.

Her eyes always danced when they’d finished making love.

That was over. Those days were long gone. He had only now to think about, and the possibility of having a coffee with the woman in front of him, and maybe a chance to explain himself.

“You would do that for me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. Whenever you’re ready for it.”

Andrea still looked so uncomfortable. She glanced away from him, and Xander wasn’t much of a dragon, he never had the instinct for that warrior life style, but he could see a frightened animal about to bolt when it was in front o him.

He didn’t ask if he was afraid of him. The answer was obvious.

She was clearly here because her boss, or editor or whatever, had forced her to come to get some sort of story. She didn’t want to be around him. He could feel it. She was having a hard time looking at his face, and he knew the scars had a lot to do with that.

He reached into his pocket. Despite having a phone on him, and knowing she likely had hers, it had become a habit for him to carry around his business cards. His agent had harassed him about that until it became habit, and he figured this would be safer for her. “Do you have a pen?”

She blinked, as though caught off guard by the question, but then quickly reached into her camera bag and produced one. Andy never went anywhere without a pen. She was almost obsessive compulsive like that.

On the back of the card, he wrote down the personal number to his cell phone.

“This is my private number. Only my agent has it.” He looked up at her, smiling softly. “Please don’t put it up on the Internet.”

Andy’s shoulders straightened. She shook her head. “I wouldn’t do that.”

He nodded, sensing the truth in that. “I know, but I have to be careful about these sorts of things.”

He handed her the card and the pen. She took them, looking at the number on the back of the card before sliding it into the tiny pocket in her camera bag.

Xander swallowed. “If you wanted to have a coffee at any time, I can make it happen. We can meet up and talk somewhere private, or in public. It’s up to you. Just call me when you’re ready.”

“You’re all right with being in public?” she asked softly. “You looked like you wanted to be left alone there. Sorry for that, by the way,” she added sheepishly.

If only she knew that he didn’t care. He didn’t care even when, out of the corner of his eye, he could see a few people looking and pointing at him right now. Some people clearly recognized him, or thought they did.

It wasn’t hard to do that with his scars. Usually, time out of the spotlight made it easier for celebrities to go incognito to certain locations.

It had been a while, but the scars on his face were bound to draw attention, even to someone who hadn’t been in the latest multimillion dollar movies over the last couple of years.

“Totally good with being in public. I’m here for the rest of the week, so just let me know when you want to set up a time and place and I’ll make sure to meet you there.”

“You’ve got nothing scheduled?” Her pink lips pulled up at the question. Because of course they did. She knew full well what his schedule used to be like.

He was happy to answer her. “No, nothing at all.”

He saw the brief flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, but it didn’t feel like she looked at him like that because she feared him.

It was something else. Something that felt a little too much like pity.

“What if we met tonight?” she asked.

Xander blinked. “Sure. I have nothing against tonight.”

“But just as…old friends,” she said. “We can get some drinks and talk, but that’s it.”

Xander grinned. “Totally. I can definitely do that.”

He’d thought she would, at the very least, need a few hours to think over his proposal. The fact that she wanted to grab drinks, tonight, in a place where they would either be getting their drinks from their hotel rooms, or in the fun bar settings that were around the resort…

Okay, he needed to calm down. One thing at a time here.

“All right,” Andy nodded. “Just give me an hour or two. I’ll look around at what’s here and call you to meet up with a time by then.”

He would be clutching his phone, waiting for the minute she called, and then going crazy waiting for when it was time to meet her.

“I’ll see you then.”

They both stood there, as if neither was sure who should break eye contact and walk away first.

Xander had to be the one to do that when a young boy, probably no older than ten, walked up to the pair of them. The pen and paper in his hand made it obvious what he wanted.

“Are you Xander Grey?”

Xander smiled down at the kid, wishing his timing had been better, but he did still love his fans. “Yeah, that’s me.”

It was good that his scars weren’t scaring the kid off. In fact, he smiled brightly back up at Xander, lifting his paper and pen.

“Can you sign this?”

“Sure thing. Anyone you want it made out to?”

“I’ll let you get to it,” Andy said. “Watch for my call tonight.”

He didn’t want her to go, but he couldn’t ignore the kid as he babbled off a list of friends. From a short distance, his parents watched, the father a little more starstruck than the mother.

“Okay, I’ll see you tonight,” he said as she smiled, turned, and walked away.

Xander made his living as an actor, but even he couldn’t seem to act out what he wanted to say well enough to not sound terrified.

It was going to be a long wait for her call to come in.

Chapter 3

Andrea stared at her reflection in the mirror, fluffing her hair just a little more, then examined her work.

Was she really doing this? Honestly? Meeting with Xander Grey.

For drinks.

He might have noticed the slip, but she hadn’t, and now that it was in her head, Andrea wasn’t so sure having alcohol with him would be the best of ideas. Not because she was worried about what he might do, but because she was worried about what she might do.

And yeah, maybe she was a little worried about him, too.

Andrea growled at her reflection in the mirror. She scratched her hands through her hair, undoing the fluff work she’d just finished with. Maybe if she went for the whole not caring what she looked like look, that might give the impression she wasn’t as nervous as she really was.

Why did she have to get her nails done before coming here? Andrea looked down at her cuticles, wishing they were a bit sloppier.

He’d called her Andy.

He was the only one who ever called her Andy and, when he’d said it, her stomach did a little flip. Just thinking about it was enough to make her heart quiver, and it was kind of pathetic.

She looked at the clock. Okay, she was already five minutes late. She’d called earlier and they’d set up a time at one of the bars in the resort, and now she was stalling.

Andy triple checked her bag just in case she was missing something. She wasn’t. She was just wasting time at this point because she was too nervous to get her ass moving.

Her phone was fully charged with enough memory on it to record the interview in case her camera was dead, which it wasn’t, and she had two small notepads with five black pens, two red pens, two pencils, and a white eraser.

Andrea sucked back a deep breath and then she left her room.

Her phone buzzed on the elevator ride down to the bar. She didn’t need to check to know it was Xander, wondering where she was.

When she got out of the elevator, there seemed to be a huge sea of tourists all around her, getting ready to head out to dinner. She probably should have left earlier. On time would have been sufficient.

She made it to the bar without tripping over her heels, that was good news at least, but then it was just a matter of searching over the many heads of people who were standing around, sitting, dancing, drinking, and eating.

Shit. Andrea moved to pull out her phone, but stopped at the sound of Xander’s voice.

“Andy!”

She looked up and around, trying to determine the source.

“Over here!”

She spotted him just then, waving his hand to catch her attention.

Andrea sighed, moving through the crowd of people. She smiled as she made it to him. He stood by the bar, and was guarding an extra stool for her. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said above the noise, reaching out for him without thinking, out of sheer habit, but it was too late to pull back!

She settled for an awkward hug. Better that than to nearly kiss him.

Like she’d almost done.

Xander held her, and it felt so much better than she would have thought to be touched by him, to smell the scent of his aftershave. He used the same brand.

She could have held on forever, but he was the first to pull back, clearing his throat. “Have a seat.”

“Thank you.” Andrea pushed herself up into her stool. “We always did get the bar seats.”

“Yeah,” Xander said, a small laugh in his voice as he took his seat then briefly glanced away before he called the bartender to them.

Andrea watched him, letting him order, and not in the least shocked that he still knew her favorite drink. She hadn’t had it in a long time, but it was definitely still a favorite.

Andrea cleared her throat as the bartender handed her the glass. He left them when she and Xander had their drinks, and Andrea almost wished he wouldn’t, because now she had to pretend as if this wasn’t completely awkward and strange.

Especially considering why she was here.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting. I got your text,” she said, reaching for her phone again.

“I didn’t send a text.”

Andrea stopped abruptly, looking up at him, and then down at her phone. She brushed her thumb over the screen. The number made her put her phone away.

“Is it all right?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Just my editor.”

“Ah,” Xander smiled. “Probably eager to get the interview, right?”

He didn’t ask it unkindly. She almost wished he wouldn’t go to the trouble of being so polite to her at all. She didn’t feel as if she deserved it.

“Something like that.” Andrea stroked her arm, then decided to suck it up and get this over with. The amazing smell of him be damned, she could do this. “So, you’re getting back into acting.”

Xander apparently took note of the tone in her voice. The business sound of it. “Yeah, well, I figured I’d been out of the spotlight long enough. I was still getting parts offered to me, and I missed the work.”

“That says a lot,” Andrea said. “Usually when an actor stops making movies, it’s hard for the public to keep an interest.”

He shrugged, but at least he was smiling again. “Yeah, well, not everyone comes out as a dragon shifter.”

Andrea swallowed hard. There was so much more to the story than that, but she was too much of a coward to come out and say it. She’d been there. She didn’t need the reminder of what had happened.

Even with the noise in the bar, she heard the buzz of her phone. The same number? She didn’t check.

“Well, a dragon shifter seems extra heroic, especially after what happened. It fit right in with all the parts you were getting.”

“Right,” Xander said, glancing away briefly before bringing his drink to his lips. “Sorry about what happened, by the way.”

“Oh no, it wasn’t your fault.” Andrea quickly shook her head. “I always knew that.”

“I was talking about what happened after.”

That was a severe punch to the gut. “Oh, right,” she said.

The part where, after their breakup, Andrea basically had to quit all of her social media accounts and go offline for a solid year. People didn’t look too kindly on the woman who broke the heart of America’s dragon action hero. Especially after he saved her from a mugging in the dark of night in the alley between the hottest clubs.

“Don’t worry about that, that wasn’t you.”

Xander’s smile said he didn’t really believe her.

And somehow they ended up looking each other in the eyes for what had to be too long of a time.

Even with the scars on his face, he was still the most handsome man she’d ever seen in her life.

Andrea broke their eye contact. She had to. Looking at him stirred up too many feelings she hadn’t dealt with. She left him after what happened, sure, but not because she’d fallen out of love with him.

After so long apart, only to be right in front of him now…she was still in love with him, and he must just think the worst of her…

“You’re not taking notes.”

“Hmm?” Andrea looked back at him, then realized what he’d said. She tensed. “Fuck, right.” She scrambled for her purse, reaching inside for the recorder on her phone, but no, the noise in the bar was too loud. She’d never get a good recording like that.

The paper and pen it was.

Her phone vibrated next to her hand. Frustrated, Andrea grabbed it and looked at the number again.

There was a text with it this time.

Are you getting it done?

Her insides turned to ice.

She stuck the phone back into her purse. She glanced around the bar, searching.

Were they here? Were they watching her right now? She couldn’t tell. There were too many people and none of them looked as if they were watching her.

“Everything all right?”

Andrea swallowed hard. “Uh, yeah, everything’s great. Can we finish this talk back at your room?”

Both of Xander’s brows rose up high. “Yes.”

“Not for that,” Andrea corrected. “Just to talk. Really.”

Xander already got to his feet. “That’s totally fine with me.”

She almost couldn’t believe it. “You’re fine with that? Just with talking?”

“Well, no, obviously,” he said with a grin. “But I’ll take what I can get. It’s too loud here anyway.”

Xander dropped a heavy tip onto the bar, took his jacket, and waited.

Andrea grabbed her purse. She could almost imagine they would be going back to the hotel room they shared, not one that was separate. Thoughts like that were dangerous to have. For one thing, it might lead to something she didn’t know if she could give. For another, she wasn’t here just to get a story, and it was more than clear to her at this point that she could no longer keep it from him.

Not if they were actually watching her.

The men who’d made Xander’s face look like that.

Chapter 4

They made it to the private elevator that led to Xander’s floor. Andy seemed shocked that he would have one at first, but then she smiled, shaking her head, as if she should have known better.

He swiped his card and punched in the floor number.

No one would bother them on the way up.

“Xander, I need to tell you something.”

“Me, too,” he growled, and with a ferocity that had slept inside him since the day she’d left, he grabbed her by the shoulders, pressing her against the wall of the elevator, and crushed their mouths together.

Her eyes fell shut instantly, proving she had been thinking the same thing he had as he took her wrists and pulled them above her head.

Her teeth against his bottom lip was a force to be reckoned with, and something he’d desperately missed. God, he never thought he would feel that biting sting against his bottom lip ever again.

He switched her wrists over to just his one hand, allowing him to use his other to cup her breast through that sexy as hell top she wore.

She had no bra beneath it, and under the silky material he could feel her nipple hardening against his palm as he squeezed.

Andy moaned against his mouth, her body shivering, the heat in the elevator increasing to something he could hardly stand.

And it was fucking amazing. Especially when she lifted her leg and curled it around his thigh...

The elevator was quick, and it came to a stop far too soon on Xander's floor.

He pulled his mouth away from Andy's with a gasp as the doors parted for them.

The fire in her eyes was familiar, and it made his loins tight to see that look once more.

This time, Andy took him by his wrists, and as she pulled him out of the elevator, it was clear they were doing this. Didn't need much talk to understand what the body wanted in a situation like this.

"Where's your room?" she asked, her voice hoarse and breathy.

Just the way he liked it.

"It's right there."

There was only one door on this floor, and it was his.

Andy blinked at it, and then smiled, laughing a little under her breath. "Of course you would have your own private floor."

"Would you want it any other way?" he asked, opening the door with his key card, allowing Andy to enter first.

She did, still smiling. "I guess it's been a while. Not used to getting the royal treatment anymore."

"Well, not totally royal," he said, kicking the door shut behind them and sliding the lock into place. "It's not like I got the presidential suite here. This is a downgrade."

As Andy stepped into his room, noted the grand piano and fireplace, she glanced back at him with a brow lifted. "This was a downgrade?"

He shrugged. "There was a leak in the other room. They moved me here."

Andy shook her head, chuckling. "Right, of course."

Andy had never been one to be overly impressed with the wealth he brought in from his job. She also hadn't liked to be spoiled too much, but she did handle those times when Xander couldn't resist treating her with grace.

"Does this room of yours happen to have a big bed in it?"

"Through those doors over there," he said, nodding in the direction of his bedroom. "The bar is just right there, and the jacuzzi is on the balcony."

"Right," Andy said. "I'm thinking nice and simple."

"Bed?"

She nodded. "Bed first, and then possibly jacuzzi."

Xander pulled himself out of his shirt, dropping it to the floor. "Sounds good to me."

He walked up to her, to his woman, wondering why in the hell he ever thought it would be a good idea to let her go. He pushed some of her hair off her shoulder, unable to resist letting his hand cup her behind her neck. Her warm skin called to him. The heat shot through his hand, travelling up his arm and settling into his chest where his heart raced.

"God, I thought I was over you," he rasped, leaning down and pulling her up so he could take her sweet lips once more.

Though she was already on heels, Xander could tell when a woman pushed herself up onto her toes to meet him. Not that it made much of a difference in shoes like that, but he enjoyed the effort. Went right to his ego, and increased the rush of pleasure through his heated veins.

Her tongue came out in a teasing lick against his lips, calling to him, making him moan as he opened his mouth, letting her explore inside in a way she hadn't done in years.

Too long. It had been way too damned long.

He fisted his fingers through her hair, gripping tight and never wanting to let her go. Andy released a soft mewling noise. It vibrated against Xander's lips, and the animal inside him, the dragon, which only ever felt like a separate entity when it came to this woman, roared to life inside of him.

As if it had been sleeping since that horrible day of the attack.

He'd almost thought it was dead, but clearly not. Not when it was alive and stronger than ever.

For the first time in years, his dragon scales began to form over his skin, spiking out at his shoulders and elbows, but smoother along his forearms and back.

Andy pulled back with a gasp, and he could hear the rushing of her heart as she observed what was happening to him.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

He nodded. "Better than ever."

It wasn't as if this was the first time his scales had come out when he was trying to make love to her, so he was curious about the question until her hands touched some of the deeper scars sliced into his chest. Even the scales couldn't hide those marks, and they marred an otherwise smooth diamond pattern in his red scales.

Her hand came up to his cheek, also touching the scars there.

She opened her mouth, but he took her hand quickly. "Whatever you're about to say, don't say it."

Andy blinked wide, and she nodded.

"I don't want your pity or apologies. Just your body."

And a few minutes to pretend this was something other than what it really was.

A fuck. Moments of pleasure that could not lead into anything else.

Andy's throat worked in a hard swallow, and in that moment, he could swear he saw a dragon fire in her eyes as she curled her arms around his neck and jumped up.

Xander caught her with his hands under her ass as she curled her legs around his waist.

Moving quickly, desperate to feel the grip of her silky heat around his cock, he blindly brought them into his room. He left the lights off. There were only the neon lights from the outside, other hotels and resorts in the distance along the beach.

Xander fell down onto the bed with her hard. The mattress was large enough to fit five couples on it, but somehow their bodies still bounced slightly. And the laugh that Andy let out when that happened before she kissed him again, eagerly, as if she didn't see the scars on his face of feel them on his lips, was Goddamned magical.

He didn't have to do much with that flimsy top she wore other than push it above her breasts. Her nipples peaked, tightening even more at the touch of cool air on her skin, and Xander couldn't resist. His mouth was called to them, and he leaned down.

Andy gasped when he pressed his mouth to her right nipple, teasing it with his tongue, but working it with his lips. Her manicured fingernails scratched beautifully through his hair and scalp. Her sigh was a siren song in the darkness of his room. He had to touch her some more. His fingers reached out for her other nipple, tweaking it while he flicked his tongue over the first.

Her spine arched beneath him, almost enough that he was nearly forced to pull his mouth away. Luckily it didn't come to that, and he was able to hold contact as Andy flopped back down onto the bed.

He pulled back reluctantly from her breast, his fingers still working as he looked up at her. "You must have known it would come to this. I did." He pinched that rosy bud just enough to make her mouth fall open. They'd kissed and bitten all the gloss from her lips, and now any rosiness that was on her plump lips was just from their kissing, from her biting.

"I knew from the second I saw you on the beach that I had to have you again. Even if it was just this one time."

Andy shook her head, clenching her eyes shut before snapping them back open, as if she was trying to force her body to cooperate with her. "No, no," she said. "Don't talk. No talking right now. D-don't want to think about it."

Xander nodded, his hands moving down to her tight, hip-hugging jeans and the belt, button, and zipper.

"Fair enough."

He didn't know how she managed to get her jeans on sometimes. They were so damned tight they could have been painted on, but she did have a wonderful pair of legs, worthy of being shown off.

The fact that she'd dressed this way, for him, meant something.

Maybe she wanted more than just one night, something for old time’s sake.

If only he could give that to her.

Because of how tight her jeans were, he needed her help just to get them off. Xander laughed at the ridiculousness of it as Andy was forced to sit up and shove the denim down her legs. The material actually rolled down her calves as she pushed them off her ankles one leg at a time.

Panties, shoes, and all came off.

"You should have left the panties for me. I would have bitten them off."

Her answering smile was a lazy one, and he fucking adored it. "You always were good at that."

"I was," he agreed, climbing over her body.

His jeans were easier to get off his legs and kick away, leaving them completely naked, his cock pointing up at him, desperate to get a move on.

His fingers found the wet curls of her sex. She was always well groomed, but she did leave a little hair down there. Xander moaned as he hooked two fingers into her wet heat. A wave of goosebumps rushed across his skin at how warm she was, wet, and tight.

"I fucking missed you," he said.

She smiled at him, the pink blooming across her cheeks in the darkness making her so much more beautiful than she already was.

"Do the Hollywood girls still bug you?"

He growled, knowing what she meant.

"Can't have sex with any of them without grossing myself out."

Andy laughed. "They still get the Brazilian waxes out there, right?"

It had been a complaint he'd made, and a joke shared between them. Before Xander had met and started to date Andy, one thing that had consistently bothered him was how the women in his industry seemed to wax or shave themselves until their bodies were completely bald.

He didn't like that. A woman had to have at least a little hair on her pussy, otherwise he felt too weird about it. As if he was fucking someone who hadn't gone through puberty yet.

Which was just another reason in a long list as to why Andy had been his island in the middle of an ocean of starstruck fans, actresses, and sometimes even agents who threw themselves at him, hoping that any connection to Xander Grey would either jumpstart their careers or just plain start it.

Meanwhile, the first time they'd had sex, before they'd gotten naked, Andy had warned him that she kept a small tuft of hair down there, and had told him in no uncertain terms would she ever wax it off. Because, "That shit hurts like hell."

Her exact words, if he recalled correctly.

"I'm glad you haven't changed," he said, and then leaned down, replacing his fingers with his mouth and tongue.

Andy gasped at the touch, her fingers returning to his hair, gripping it tight as her knees lifted, and her spine arched once more as she gave him just the angle he needed.

He held tightly to her waist, his eyes closing as he let himself bask in the pleasure of sliding his tongue deep inside her pussy, tasting her, flicking his tongue and feeling every quiver of pleasure on his mouth.

"Oh God," Andy sighed. Then her hands fisted into her own hair, her back flopping down onto the bed before arching again as he flicked his tongue over her clit. He could barely contain his smile. He knew her weak points. He knew how much she loved it when he did this to her, when he made her body tremble, when he took command of her and gave her this sort of pleasure.

His tongue inside her, the soft, kittenish moans, and the heavy scent of her lust felt exactly like coming home.

He felt the swelling of her sex on his tongue, and her hard gasp, the tension in Andy’s legs and thighs as she cried out, reaching out and grabbing his hair one more time as she came onto his tongue. It happened so much faster than he would have thought.

The pain as she gripped his hair was almost too much to handle, but he worked through it, the taste of her overshadowing any discomfort he would have felt.

And his inner dragon growled with approval when that tight build up of pleasure suddenly released and she collapsed onto the bed, a gasping mess, helpless, and his.

He couldn’t stop himself. The animal side of his brain had taken over and it was entirely instinct at work now as he spread her legs and pushed his cock between her wet thighs.

He was halfway inside her when those blue-gray eyes suddenly flew wide. “Wait, do you have a condom on you?"

Xander stopped short, blinking down at her. He needed a few seconds to come out of the trance he’d fallen into, and when he understood what she wanted, some terrified piece of himself cried out. “No, I don’t.”

Andy’s breasts heaved as she continued to catch her breath, staring up at him, clearing thinking. “Fuck it,” she gasped, reaching out, grabbing him by the back of the neck ,and pulling him down, kissing him desperately as he pushed deep inside her.

Chapter 5

Having him inside her...it was like coming home.

Being filled with him, the scent of him all around her, his weight on her body a comfort, Andrea thought she'd gotten over him, that she'd moved on.

She hadn't.

The others she'd been with since him hadn't compared. She'd assumed it was just because she hadn't found the right person to settle down with. Now she knew better. This was something she couldn't live without.

She needed him. Not just his body, but everything about him.

"I missed you," he said again, gritting his teeth and grunting between thrusts. "So fucking much."

Andrea nodded, then brought his mouth down to kiss him again. She wasn't finished biting on his lower lip. Even with the scars on his body, he was still the same person. He still felt the same inside and out. She thought he would be jaded, that he would grow to hate her after she left.

She felt no hatred from him now, no resentment.

Just the love she'd missed so much.

"Come inside me," she gasped. "I want to feel it."

He nodded, more scales appearing on his face. His hands became rougher as she felt his claws coming in.

It excited her all the more.

"Show him to me. Let him come."

His dragon side. Xander had always said they were one and the same, that it was just another form he took, but Andrea could always see something wild and primal in his eyes whenever he let that side of himself come forward.

She especially didn't mind it when she saw hints of his inner dragon while he made love to her. It made her feel wanted.

There was just something about knowing she could have that effect on him, on his body, that made a small possessive side of her come out swinging.

Xander was her man, and it didn't matter what happened, the threats, the attack in the alley when he'd been too drunk to defend himself properly, she never should have left him behind.

She would never leave him alone again.

There was tension in his shoulders, in the rest of his body, as he pumped his hips faster. She felt the change in his body as she held on tight. The way his hips jerked harder, she knew he was close.

"Do it, come on," she begged. "I need it."

Like she needed nothing else in her entire life.

His eyes changed. The black irises turned into diamond-shaped slits as he groaned, pumping hard and fast inside her, their flesh making lewd slapping noises as they struck again and again.

And then he was there. Xander groaned, his body becoming taught and tight, as though an invisible hand gripped him and squeezed hard.

The warmth that filled her, spurting inside, pulled a sigh from Andrea's lips. Her sensitive sex took it all in, and the rush of warmth from Xander's orgasm had the wonderful side effect of bringing about a second orgasm from her.

It was a softer orgasm than the first, but she sighed, letting the buzz whisk her away as she held onto him, feeling him finish inside her.

Xander gasped hard, as if all the air in his lungs chose that moment to leave his body in one hard whoosh. He collapsed on top of her chest, barely managing to keep his weight somewhat off her body so she could keep breathing.

Andrea didn't mind. She laughed. She thought it was kind of funny. "I always liked you as a human blanket."

"Sorry," he mumbled, not sounding sorry in the least.

He pretty much just sounded as if he wasn't making any plans on moving.

She was fine with that.

"No, I'm serious. I missed the way you used to just plop on top of me when you finished. Big, bad superstar Xander Grey who loves to snuggle and loses all strength after sex."

"Don't let my secret out," he groaned, managing to push himself up onto his hands, looking down at her.

As if she was the best thing he'd ever laid eyes on.

And that feeling was back. The feeling of being where she belonged, as if she'd gone away from home for a very long time and had only just now returned.

She put her hand to his scarred cheek. "I'm so sorry I left."

He leaned into her hand, and it was peaceful, perfect, until something in his eyes changed and he pulled away from her.

From her hand, her body, all of it.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the two of them still alone in the dark, but now the silence between them seemed almost like a third person in the room, and it was awkward.

"You remember what happened, right?" He looked back at her. "I can't protect you."

Andrea scrambled to her knees. She came up behind him, looping her arms around Xander's shoulders and holding on tight. "It wasn't your fault. They cheated."

"It doesn't matter."

"They ganged up on you when you and I were both drunk and coming out of a club. It was amazing you managed to hold them off at all."

Xander rubbed his hands over his face. Was he trying to ward off a headache? Or was he forcing himself to feel the scars those men had put on him?

Scars she would have, too, if he hadn't managed to stop them.

His supposed family.

"I never cared...I mean, if they ever tried to do something to me, it was one thing, but they came after you, and I almost let it happen."

"No you didn't," Andrea said. Her voice choked. It hurt to speak. A rock started to settle in her throat and every word she said hurt more and more. "You saved me, and I left you."

"You were right to." He looked back at her. "I'm not ashamed of my face, and I never cared what the world thought when they looked at me, just what you thought."

Andrea shook her head quickly, horrified that he could have been thinking such a thing for all this time. "I didn't leave because of your face, Xander."

He smiled and looked away. "That wasn't what I meant, and I know you didn't. Besides, it's not like it stopped anything anyway. I still got offered roles in movies even after my looks were gone. People like the idea of a heroic dragon."

"Your looks aren't gone." Andrea stroked his cheek. "Anyone with a pair of working eyes can see you in there."

He put his hand over the top of hers, just to feel the added touch of warmth against his skin. Something he desperately needed, something he’d been struggling to live without.

“I need to tell you something,” Andy said, briefly biting down on her lower lip. “And it’s important, and I don’t know how you’re going to take it.”

The sudden change in her voice, the way her eyes started to swim, it was enough to make all the suspicious instincts rise to the surface within him.

His protective instincts, too.

“What’s going on?”

“It’s your family, Xander. I was sent here for a story, but I had to use my old connections to you to get my editor to let me do this. They wanted me to come to you.”

There was no doubt in his mind who they were.

His scales started to form over his skin once more, and this time it had absolutely nothing to do with lust.

“Where were they when they spoke with you? What did they say? When did it happen?” He had to know absolutely everything. Nothing could be left out. Not if they were threatening her. Worse, threatening her when he wasn’t there to protect her. When those motherfuckers knew he wouldn’t be there to do anything about it.

“It was a couple of weeks ago. I’m so sorry. I should have said something.”

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me everything. Are they on the island right now?”

“I haven’t seen them, but they’ve been sending me texts that make me think they’re here.”

“Where’s your phone?” He didn’t wait for her to give him permission to look through her things. He spotted her clutch purse on the floor and he went for it.

She didn’t demand he stop when he yanked out her phone, though he needed her to unlock it.

He handed her the phone, unapologetic. “Open it.”

She took it, slid her fingers across the screen to unlock it, and then handed it back to him so he could read the texts.

“I assume the numbers with no names are the ones you’re suspicious of?” he asked, glancing down at her.

She nodded. “Yeah.” Then she bit her lips tightly together, shaking her head. “I should have called the police, but they just showed up in my apartment one night. The lights were out. I swear they unscrewed all the lightbulbs before I got home so I wouldn’t see them.”

“That’s the way they do things,” Xander growled. There weren’t many texts from the number given. The ones that were there were simply asking if she had made contact or not. It didn’t matter. They were threatening enough, considering these were the men who had snuck into Andy’s apartment in the night and had already threatened her.

The threat didn’t need to be repeated for Xander to know it was there.

“What did they want?”

Andy still wouldn’t look at him, as if she was ashamed of this entire thing.

“Andy, look at me. What did they want?”

She opened her mouth, seemingly having trouble getting the words out that she wanted. “I don’t really know. They just wanted to know if the rumors were true and you were really getting back to work. I guess the answer is yes.”

Xander nodded. “Makes sense.”

She finally looked at him. Maybe she’d already known deep down where this was going and was only just now putting it together, but a light flicked off in her eyes. Understanding.

“They’re not going to let this go if I go back and say you’re going back to work.”

Xander shook his head. “No, and they’ll probably try to use you to get to me.” His skin itched as his scales came out full force, as if a body of armor was growing in just so he could rush in to a fight.

After what happened outside that club, the night everything went to shit, he made sure to not just work out for the sake of staying in shape for his roles. He’d learned how to fight, hired professional trainers, nutritionists, the whole nine yards.

It would have been funny if he wasn’t so furious. Dragon clans were private. They didn’t want attention and were by and large slow to come out and join the rest of human kind. The dragons who did leave their clans often faced violent backlash.

Xander thought his was somewhat personal to the clan he’d left behind. Not only did he refuse the lifestyle that so many dragons felt an honor in living, but he went the extra step by purposely putting himself in the spotlight.

They might have left him alone if he hadn’t gotten those movie parts. A few magazine ads and commercials had likely bothered them, but it was when he started to get big that bothered them the most. They hadn’t given him an exact reason or anything like that, but he could just tell that’s what the problem had been for them. In fact, he was one hundred percent certain that was the reason.

He’d thought the fact that Andy was out of his life would mean he could let himself go back to work, that he could enjoy his career again.

He shook his head. “I’ll call my agent. I’ll put the projects on hold, indefinitely if I have to.”

Andy hooked her feet over the side of the bed quickly, standing and rushing to him. Her small hands gripped his shoulders. “No, Xander, don’t do that!”

“I’m not letting anyone get near you. This time I might not be able to stop them.”

Defense training or not, he wasn’t about to take the risk that something could happen to her.

“I’ll get some bodyguards for you. I know a guy who can get some skilled men here quickly.”

“Will humans be able to do anything against dragons?”

He couldn’t help but grin at the question. “We’re not bullet proof.”

She didn’t smile back at him. She lowered her head briefly, clearly still bothered by this. “Look, I don’t know what I was planning on doing when I got the interview. This right here, what we just did, I didn’t do that to get close to you, it just happened—”

“Hey, hey, it’s all right. I know you weren’t using me or anything.”

“But I feel like I was, and now you’re talking about giving up the career you love again, and you can’t just do that when you have so many people counting on you to get it done.”

“Andy, they can get another actor to fill the role. Money will still go to the charity and everything will be fine.”

“You signed a contract.”

“And I’ve got good lawyers. If it gets out that the same people who did this to my face,”—he pointed at the mess just to make sure she understood him—“are threatening the woman I love and the parent companies aren’t letting me back out, that would make way too much of a shit show. No one would want that kind of bad publicity. It’ll be fine.”

She still looked as though she wanted to fight him on this. Andy shook her head. “It’s what you love doing. I can’t let them take that from you again.”

Xander sighed. “Why is it so hard for you to accept that I want to do this for you? That I would put your life and safety above my career? You don’t have to worry about me. I’m not a starving artist. I won’t go out on the street if I can’t do these next roles. I want you safe.”

“And I want you happy,” she said quickly.

In that moment, it almost felt as if they’d hit a stalemate of some sort, as though they both realized something at the same time. Xander couldn’t contain himself. He grabbed her by the back of her head just as she pushed herself up onto her toes, meeting his mouth as he leaned down and kissed her as if he would never be able to taste those lips ever again.

Then the door to their room exploded inwardly.

Chapter 6

It didn’t exactly explode, though that’s where Andrea’s mind immediately went at the heavy sound. The lock definitely broke off as several men rushed in through the open doorway.

Xander pulled himself away from Andrea quickly, standing in front of her, which Andrea definitely didn’t like because then he was the one those men had their full focus on.

And she recognized them. Andrea knew their sizes, their shapes, the styles and cuts of their hair even before she got a proper look at them.

She leaned to the side a little, glancing around Xander’s shoulder just to confirm what she already knew.

It was them. They were here. They’d finally come for her.

And for Xander.

No.

Xander glared at the four people who walked into his room. One of them, a woman, shut the door behind them and leaned against it to keep it shut.

She was so well built, her shoulders so broad, her chest so well defined with what looked to be no trace at all of any soft breasts, no matter how small, that it was easy to mistake her for a man.

That woman hadn’t been there when Andrea had been threatened. This was someone she’d never before seen, though she had to be a dragon, being built like that.

Which meant she was here for Xander, and for her.

The woman looked up at Andrea. Andrea quickly glanced away. She couldn’t hold eye contact with her. Andrea didn’t want to draw on her wrath.

“You here for another Shadow Call?” Xander asked, sounding very much as if he was just having a mildly annoying interruption instead of being barged in on by some of the people who had done that to his face.

Andrea’s heart slammed hard and fast against her ribs. She swallowed hard, desperate to get a hold of herself.

A Shadow Call was what happened when the dragons put out a hit of sorts on other people. Mafia style.

Only the goal wasn’t to kill. The goal instead was to cause as much pain as possible, giving scars like the ones Xander had on his face, or doing other sorts of permanent damage, giving a reminder as to why it was a bad idea to dishonor the dragon people.

These calls could happen at any time and without warning. The only way a dragon would know there was a Shadow Call on his head was because he’d already been attacked at least once.

Andrea only knew that because she’d been with Xander when it happened.

She realized just then that the dragons in their room weren’t talking. Why weren’t they talking? It was creepy. It made everything feel so much worse because she wanted them to say something instead of just looking at her and Xander like that. As if they were sizing them up for the best way to fight.

Xander growled deep in his throat. “Were these the people who came to see you?”

It took Andrea a couple of seconds before she realized Xander was talking to her. “Y-yes. Except for the woman. I’ve never seen her before.

Xander’s growl became a touch louder. “You threatened her.”

One dragon had hair the same shade of chestnut as Xander’s, only his was long and tied back into a low ponytail against his neck.

“We were hoping to get through to you. Especially when word got around that you’d signed some contracts for a couple of your upcoming…films.” He said the word as if it was something despicable, something gross and undesirable. As if there weren’t millions of people out there right now who would give their right arms to be where Xander was.

People loved Xander. They cheered for him, begged him for autographs whenever he was recognized out in the street, and these men talked about that as if it was something to be ashamed of.

Andrea reached down quickly, grabbing whatever clothes she could grab that were on the floor that didn’t require her to get out from behind the safety Xander offered her.

She thought of something as she reached down for her clutch. Her phone had fallen on top of it, and from behind Xander, the dragons didn’t seem to notice it.

Fumbling, she pretended to struggle with one of the straps of her shirt, praying to God no one noticed the brief tapping she did or took her clutch from her as she tucked the phone silently back inside.

She regretted her decision the instant the phone was out of her hands. Of all the things she could have done with it, that had been her choice?

God, she hoped they got out of this alive. She also wished she wasn’t so damned terrified. It felt selfish when he had been the one they’d gone after the last time.

Xander didn’t seem to care that he was naked and vulnerable. He gave off an aura that hadn’t been there the last time something like this happened.

He felt like a warrior, a soldier, someone who had faced the darkness before and was willing to do it again if needed. He let his scales form over his body again, but this time it happened until his scales were almost his clothes. They covered most of his body, and Andrea gasped at how thick and hard they looked.

Andrea couldn’t help herself. She gently touched one of them while still crouched down. She couldn’t feel his thigh beneath the scale. As if it was made out of stone.

Had his body been covered in scales like this when they’d been making love, there was no doubt in her mind that her entire body would be scratched to hell and back.

She cringed at the thought of what his penis inside her would have done had it been covered in scales like that? Was his penis covered in these kinds of scales? Or had they grown over his cock as a sort of protective measure?

She couldn’t believe she was thinking about this when there were people standing in front of her who wanted to hurt both of them.

“I thought we made ourselves clear the last time,” said the dragon Xander had spoken to first, Ponytail.

Xander wouldn’t stop growling. Everything about him, his energy, the way his muscles tightened, suggested he was looking for a fight as much as they were. “Yeah, you did.”

Andrea barely got her clothes back on when she reached out and grabbed Xander by his wrist. “Please, no more fighting.” She looked at the dragons in front of her. As much as she wanted to keep the situation calm, she couldn’t help but glare at them, too. “I was doing what you told me to do. Why are you here?”

“You weren’t answering our messages,” Ponytail replied, his lip curling at her. “We decided to check in on things.”

“How about you check in on them with me, dragon to dragon, no more of this sneaking around bullshit.”

“Xander, no.” Andrea’s heart leapt as he took a menacing step forward. She tightened her grip on Xander’s wrist, feeling the heavy pulse beneath tense and powerful flesh.

She’d thought he was strong back then, too. He had been strong, just not powerful enough to take on multiple people at the same time when they snuck up on the pair of them and caught them unaware.

Andrea and Xander weren’t caught unaware this time, but she didn’t care. She had to do everything she could to keep Xander from fighting again. If he got hurt again because of her, she would never forgive herself.

Ponytail chuckled. “Do you really think you can handle me in a proper battle? You fled like the childish coward you are because you couldn’t stomach a fight.”

“I hear all his fancy action scenes are done by stunt doubles,” said the woman.

Unbearable heat rose up in Andrea’s chest and cheeks. She couldn’t contain it and let it out as she snapped at the woman. “He does do his own stunts! And his own action scenes, and he’s good at them! So fuck you!”

The dragon woman glared at Andrea. Andrea’s whole body immediately seized up, and she quickly hid herself behind Xander again before the bitch could lunge at her.

Maybe it was a mistake to goad these people on when they were itching to do something to Xander. She already knew they were dangerous. She didn’t need that dragon chick puffing her huge, muscular chest out at her to prove anything.

“Cute, your girlfriend is defending you,” Ponytail said.

Andrea could hardly allow herself to look up at Xander. When she did, she noted the way his scarred lips were pulled up in a smile. One that looked dangerous.

“Yeah, it’s real cute to have a gorgeous lover on my arm and a shit ton of cash in my bank account. What a loser I must be, right?”

Uh, what the hell was he doing? Andrea wasn’t sure she wanted him to pick a fight with these guys.

Especially when they growled at him. “You dishonor your family,” Ponytail snarled. “Prancing around like you do, drawing attention to the clan.” He spat on the carpet. “Filth.”

The other dragons in the room rumbled, as if in agreement.

There was such a cultural difference between Xander and these people. She could hardly believe that at one point in his life he’d rubbed shoulders with them. He might have even called a few of them his friends.

Clearly that ship had sailed. These men were more like the Spartans. They wanted nothing to do with the art world, wanted nothing to do with the world in general, especially if that world remained outside of the constant training and battles these dragons put themselves through.

Even a rich and powerful actor must have seemed like a court jester to them, but Andrea didn’t care about that. Knowing where they were coming from didn’t endear them to her. In fact, it just made her all the more angry with them for not being able to see outside of themselves, to want to attack Xander when he was vulnerable, to want to disown him and at the same time refuse to let him go. To refuse to allow him to live his life the way he wanted to live it, regardless of their own perspectives on the way the world needed to work, seemed grossly stupid and horrifying.

“You’re not going to catch me off guard like you did the last time, and you’re not going to use Andrea against me. You want to talk about dishonor? You fucks are the most dishonorable people I’ve ever seen. It makes me sick looking at you.”

“You know nothing of honor!” Ponytail snapped.

But Xander wasn’t done. “You have about as much honor as a criminal molester—”

Ponytail punched him. Then the yelling started. The other dragons closed in as Xander fought back, pushing Ponytail away hard before charging in with his fists, his face becoming something that looked less than human, his eyes glowing and his teeth longer, and sharper as he opened his mouth in a hard roar.

He looked as if he wanted to bite Ponytail’s face off.

Andrea was pushed back. She wasn’t sure who did it because everyone’s hands seemed to be everywhere, but the strength of it shocked her.

And reminded her of how powerful these people were, that they could toss her aside as if she was made of loose cotton.

Something crashed behind her body when she hit it. Andrea only realized after the fact that it was the lamp. Luckily it hadn’t been turned on. Would it have electrocuted her if it had? She didn’t know anything about that sort of thing, but at least it didn’t hurt. She was quick to pop back up to her feet before any broken glass or porcelain could cut her, and she hopped onto the other side of the bed before the fighting could reach her.

Except now it was Xander who was being pushed back against the broken glass by Ponytail, who snarled at him with much the same fury that Xander had been snarling at him.

They bared their fangs, and both looked as if they wanted to bite each other’s faces off.

Andrea’s first instinct was to rush forward and grab the two men, yanking them apart. A steel shackle wrapped around her upper arm with a bruising strength and yanked her back.

Andrea looked back, her heart damn well stopping in her chest when she saw the female dragon gripping her by the arm.

“You don’t want to get between that, cupcake. You might get hurt.”

Andrea had no idea why she would bother stopping Andrea to begin with since she was fairly sure this bitch wanted to hurt her.

Especially when she smiled down at Andrea like that. As if she was daring Andrea to retaliate against her.

Andrea knew better. She still remembered what happened the last time there had been a fight between these people. She wasn’t all that interested in repeating it.

She didn’t want Xander to repeat it either.

Which was probably why she couldn’t keep her mouth shut, right when she needed to the most. “Okay, look, we get it. We’re not going to cause any trouble.”

Ponytail briefly looked away from Xander, his eyes meeting hers.

There was no understanding there. No hint that he might be interested in calling this whole thing off, but she had to keep trying.

“You don’t want your people in the spotlight, fair enough. We won’t do anything anymore. I won’t run a story on him if that’ll help.”

Just go away. Let us go. Don’t do this anymore. She was so tired of this.

Ponytail growled, his head shaking just enough to show Andrea how finished he was with this.

He launched his fist forward again hard. Andrea cried out, shocked, but the hit didn’t land.

Xander caught the man’s fist in his bare hand, and the smirk on his mouth…

Andrea knew Ponytail was in trouble before it happened.

Chapter 7

Xander could see the split second of shock on the face of his former comrade, his brother, but he gave Bartley no chance to respond before he let his free fist fly.

The first punch clearly stunned the man, but when he pulled himself together, Xander already had his thick throat in hand. He lifted him off the ground and pushed through his sister, Awnyay, and the other warriors they had brought with them to teach Xander his lesson.

When he threw Bartley against the door, Xander wasn’t all that shocked when it finally smashed through the hinges, both door and dragon flying out and crashing together into the hall.

After all the abuse it had taken, it wasn’t much of a surprise that it would get destroyed.

Xander followed after the man, the rage that had continued to feed into his strength still pulsing, still hot in his veins. He stomped over the door, knowing his brother was beneath it. He took pleasure in crushing it down hard before hopping off, grabbing the edge of the splintered wood, and tossing it off.

His brother roared at him, flying back up to his feet to attack.

Xander deftly dodged out of the way.

Bartley shoved him back, but Xander stalked him like an animal until his brother was forced to back up. There wasn't much fighting space here, which was probably why Bartley made a move for the emergency stairs.

"Come back here!"

Xander flew after him, not about to let him get away, to get to a window where he could jump out into the open.

Bartley was fast, too fast. Xander chased him down the stairs, naked, enraged, claws at the ready as he reached out and grabbed onto Bartley's shoulder.

The man roared, grabbed hard onto Xander's legs and threw him through the door on the very next floor.

He burst through it. Xander hardly felt a thing

His heart slammed. He focused his strength and attention on remaining calm as he pushed himself to his feet. "I'll kill you."

Bartley growled at him, still backing up. "You wish you could kill me."

"Xander!"

Xander paused. His heart actually stopped in his chest. Andrea's voice. Fuck, he'd left her upstairs, with his enemy.

He was going to have to trust that Awnyay wouldn't do anything to her. Awnyay wasn't the sort of woman to do anything to someone outside the clan.

"You want to run back to your girlfriend?"

"Least I can get one. Are you still a virgin, you ugly motherfucker?"

Bartley shrieked and flew his fists out again. The claws at the end of his fingers let Xander know his brother didn’t simply want to knock him out, but not a single one of Bartley’s hits landed.

Xander could not help but smile. “Are you getting angry? You can’t seem to hit me.”

Making an enemy enraged to the point of distraction was one of the first lessons he’d learned when he began taking his studies seriously, when he began to train not simply to do his own stunts, but to actually fight and defend himself and his loved ones if it ever came down to it again.

It seemed to work. Bartley, who was the most intense of his family, who was known for his abilities in hand-to-hand battle, shrieked as though he had been lit on fire before he thrust into the thick of things. He sung wildly, madly. It was impossible to avoid all his blows when there was no reason or rhythm to them, but Bartley had become so focused on simply landing any strike at all that he hardly put any effort behind them. He swung his fists with the intent to simply land a hit, not to throw as much damage as he could at his opponent.

For that, Xander could handle the blows that did hit. They alone would have been enough to break any of the bones in Andrea’s smaller body, but for himself, he could take them and keep on his feet; he could continue to enrage his brother.

Funny. He had never wanted to be a warrior, but after being attacked that time in a dark alley, after being unable to defend the woman he loved, or himself, it had been the fire lit under his ass that his family had been waiting for, for as long as Xander had been alive.

It only took them mutilating his face in front of Andrea before it happened, and now that Xander had the control in this situation, he understood why his family, why dragons in general, enjoyed the fight so much.

When they were on the winning side, the feeling was similar to being on the red carpet, cameras flashing, people wanting his attention, desperate to give him their love.

Exhilarating. Adrenaline pumping. Possibly even orgasm inducing. The hard, painful smack of flesh against his knuckles sent all kinds of signals to his brain that shut everything off except for the desire to do more of that. To hear that crunching of another man’s nose against his fist. Or maybe that was the bones in his hand making that sound. He didn’t know and he couldn’t care less as the animal inside him took over.

He could get used to this.

Bartley fought back. The first time they’d fought, Xander had felt each blow from the man. He hadn’t known how to separate his mind from the pain that had been striking him so forcefully. He hadn’t known how to take the hits. He knew now. He’d prepared for this. He’d worked for this, and every time Bartley’s fist struck his cheek, Xander absorbed the pain, taking it into himself and letting it spread and vanish throughout the rest of his body.

It let him keep going. It allowed him to fight, to attack, and to take all the hits being given.

Bartley roared. He came at Xander with as much or even more than what he’d used to give Xander his scars, and Xander didn’t stop. He was alive. He was powerful. And he was going to rip Bartley’s face off and eat it in font of the other man when he had the first chance.

But that wouldn’t be today. He had other things to do, namely to defend his woman and his honor, and he was damn well going to do it. To do that, he needed to come back to his senses. He couldn’t simply let himself fall into the role of attacker. He had to bring back some of his rational thought.

Difficult. So difficult. The next blow hurt, spreading white pain through his face because he was allowing himself to focus more on it, to pull his inner dragon back just enough so he could better think about something other than the fight.

He could now hear the shouting. Not just from his sister and the other dragons she and Bartley had brought with her, but occasionally from other patrons of the hotel as they came out of their doors, caught sight of what was going on outside, and then promptly slammed their doors shut again, locking them as they spotted the bloodshed.

Xander could only imagine the mess he would be leaving behind for the staff to clean up. He was going to have to leave behind one hell of a tip for the trouble he was leaving them with.

Andrea shouted and screamed for the fighting to stop. Xander couldn’t stop. Even through the pain, as Bartley began to hit him more and more, Xander couldn’t stop.

“This is what you respect, isn’t it?” Xander asked. He panted for breath. He hadn’t noticed that before but Bartley was tiring him out. Xander launched his fist again to prove he wasn’t tired enough to stop going, hitting his brother square in the nose, hearing the bones crunch, and watching as blood spilled freely from his nostrils. “You respect warriors. Dragons who fight.”

“You’re not one of them.” Bartley’s low voice sounded more demonic than human. Even with the scales forming on his face and his nose in a place where it really shouldn’t have been, he was beginning to resemble a melted wax sculpture rather than a dragon or a human.

Bartley shoved his flat palms hard against Xander’s chest, pushing him back. He didn’t come at Xander the way Xander expected him to. Instead, he brought his hands up and righted his nose with a hard crunch and a deep flinch. He pressed his index finger hard against the side of his nose, keeping his eyes on Xander as he half turned and snorted something thick and red down onto the floor.

Xander’s face twisted. Even though he was beginning to feel the pain from how Bartley had been attacking him, and even though he had Andrea to worry about, the sight of something so vile still had its effects on him.

The way Bartley glared at him, even as he did that, as if he thought Xander was no better than the red wad of goop he launched from deep inside his nose, wasn’t as insulting as the fact that Bartley had still done it.

“Xander?” Andrea’s voice wobbled slightly. “Are you okay?”

He nearly made the mistake of turning back to the sound of her voice. He couldn’t. He remembered the words of his teacher. Turning his back on a standing enemy was as good as forfeiting the fight.

“I’m all right.”

Bartley’s smile was ugly, what with the way his face was twisted and messed up. “You think so, do you? We’ve got you outnumbered. We’ve got your woman.”

Xander’s hackles rose up high. “And you’re not going to lay a single finger on her, you piece of shit. This is about me. Not her.”

“I agree.”

Awnyay’s voice startled him so much that it yanked him out of the staring match of death with his brother. He still could not bring himself to face away from Bartley. “You agree?” He would trust that like he would trust a scorpion trying to cross a river.

She might not physically harm Andrea, but Awnyay could be ruthless when she wanted to be.

Awnyay nodded. “I do.”

He wanted to look at her. He couldn’t not look back. Bartley wasn’t his only enemy here, and since Xander did technically have his back to the others who would easily see him dead, he needed to be able to see all of them.

He settled for a half turn. It allowed him to keep both Bartley, as well as his sister and the other dragons in sight.

He growled at the way Andrea’s arms were held on either side of her by two young dragons. Kids who had recently come of age and were probably only here to prove themselves.

He narrowed his eyes at them, letting the growl he felt come through his throat rumble with real heat for the two men. They glared back at him, defiance in their eyes, but also a touch of nervous tension.

There was nothing quite like staring at a bloody man after a fight, someone who wanted to hurt you, that let the uncertainty and fear build within. Xander knew this through experience.

“If she has nothing to do with it then you’ll have no trouble letting her go.”

The two dragons tensed, as if they honestly didn’t know what they were supposed to do. Their stance remained in fight mode, which Xander didn’t like or appreciate.

He growled lower. “I said let go of her.”

They did. Immediately and at the same time.

Awnyay smiled. Bartley growled, his horns popping out through his forehead and at the edges of his jaw. He hardly seemed pleased when the two dragons did as they were told.

Andrea kept standing there. She didn’t move. Her eyes stayed locked on Xander’s. “Andrea, get out of here.”

She shook her head. “No.”

He pressed his lips together. He couldn’t argue right now. He couldn’t afford to. Behind Andrea, and down the other end of the hall, Xander became aware of the people who had started poking their heads out of their doors. Those who weren’t feeling quite so brave eased their phones out. They were definitely recording this whole thing.

“You all need to get out of here. Too many people are watching this.”

“And why do we care what humans think?” Bartley snapped. “That’s on you, not us.”

“Uh huh, and if the cops get called down here to deal with you all? I know you can fly, but there’s not exactly much room to spread your wings in this hall if a slew of alphas wearing badges show up and tackle you to the floor.”

Bartley bared his teeth. Xander knew he had him, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“You fucking stupid idiots.” He laughed a little. “You all want to give me shit for being out in public, and you attacked us in one of the most public…you do realize there are cameras all over us right now, don’t you?”

Awnyay crossed her arms. If she was shocked, she didn’t show it. The two other dragons behind her glanced around, glowering nervously. They snapped their teeth at the nearest open door, but the kid standing there, a teenager with a man bun, didn’t back off. He just shut the door a little more and kept his phone in position.

It was the same for the other doors up and down the hall. Xander knew well enough to know that at least one of them had called the police.

If Andrea refused to leave, it was probably because she was also recording this somehow. Maybe getting the audio. She had always insisted that records needed to be kept of important events back when they’d been dating.

“You did this,” Bartley said. “You want to talk like a warrior, but you’re a little bitch. You do well on one fight and you think that makes you equal to us! You betrayed us.”

“And now you’re doing the same,” Xander said. “You’re out in the open. You’re on camera. You’re making a disgrace of the dragon name, and if any of those people are live streaming this then you’re doing it in front of the whole world.”

Bartley’s eyes changed to a bright blood ruby red. “You little piece of—”

“Bartley, stop.”

Awnyay’s voice cut through the thick atmosphere. Bartley did stop, but it appeared almost against his will. Another two steps and Xander would have been throwing him around the hallway again.

“Why stop the fight, Awnyay?” Xander asked. “I’m all rested up. I can keep going.”

Bartley growled at him. “You think so, do you?”

“Oh, I know so.” That same adrenaline Xander had felt when he’d been slamming his knuckles into Bartley’s face and teeth returned. His body buzzed with the urge to do that again, to go at his enemy with everything he had and force the man to submit.

After Xander made him eat a fair amount of shit, of course. “I’ve been working for this day ever since you jumped me in that back alley. You want to talk about honor and discipline? Well it’s different to come at me when I’m ready for you, isn’t it, you fucking pussy.”

“Bartley,” Awnyay said, her tone one of warning when Bartley stepped forward again. “Leave it.”

“He hasn’t learned,” Bartley insisted. “He hasn’t learned a fucking thing! He makes a mockery of us and our people. He needs to learn!”

“He will learn,” Awnyay replied.

Xander looked right at her. He growled, letting his claws out. “You think I haven’t learned? Want me to prove it to you, too?”

Awnyay smiled at him. When did she become so confident? It almost appeared as if she was leading this team. That wouldn’t have been the case back when Xander had still been in the clan. Before he’d left, she hadn’t been so confident, and yet now he could sense the strength in her.

She’d apparently grown more than he thought she had in the time he’d been away.

Her eyes were cold as she looked him up and down, her lips pursing together before she turned back to Andrea.

Andrea tensed.

“Don’t go near her.”

“I won’t,” Awnyay said calmly, returning her attention back where it belonged. On him. “You can show me your strength properly at another time.”

Bartley sputtered. “Another time?”

Awnyay ignored him. She didn’t take her eyes away from Xander.

He narrowed his gaze at her. He didn’t understand, but he also knew better than to flat out admit to not understanding. “What are you doing? Fight me now.”

“No. You’re winded. I want a proper fight. Besides, as correct as Bartley is, you are a disappointment to the way of dragons, what’s done is done. You’re a public figure. You make a joke of your kind by prancing around in front of a camera, but at the same time…”

Awnyay glanced back at Andrea one last time. Andrea held her ground this time by glaring at her.

“I find it interesting that it took you finding a human woman before you were willing to study the ways of war. The battle you just had with Bartley was a great deal more impressive than the one you had, or didn’t have, I should say, when he bested you the last time.”

Xander grumbled. He didn’t like the reminder of that night, and though he could point out that part of the reason why he’d lost was because they had ganged up on him when he’d been drunk and not ready, he decided, for now, to let that go.

“You’re impressed with the skills I’ve gained, are you? Even though I only wanted them so I could keep, as you put it, prancing in front of a camera?”

“You and I both know that’s not the reason you learned to fight. Don’t disappoint your ancestors more than you already have by pretending it is.”

Xander clenched his fists. He didn’t get the chance to say anything more when the elevator doors suddenly parted, and a harsh voice called out to them.

“Police! Hands in the air!”

Chapter 8

Andrea immediately threw her hands in the air. She supposed she was something of a coward like that, but it couldn’t be helped when she really didn’t like guns and really didn’t want to get shot, despite the fact that, as far as she could tell, no guns had yet been drawn.

“They were kidnapping us!” She yelled the words without thinking.

Probably not the best idea since the hallway was packed with dragon shifters and there was no way for the officers down the hall to really know who she was talking about when she shouted out to them.

In fact, her outburst was enough to make the guns come out. Andrea tensed.

Xander stepped in front of her. It was a slow move, but one that still risked his life.

“Don’t move!” shouted one of the officers, the weapon pointing straight at Xander now.

Xander’s family didn’t obey the command, which was either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid on their part. They spread out like flies in the wind, each one of them finding a door and slamming their bodies through it.

“I said don’t move!”

Please don’t shoot anyone.

They didn’t. Andrea heard no sounds of gunfire, but she still held her breath as she heard the noises of their stomping feet as they chased down the dragons who started running.

A flurry of men in blue, screaming, shouting. Andrea didn’t like it, which was probably why she clutched so tightly to Xander’s shoulders as the cops chased down the dragons, and the guests whose rooms had been broken into screamed in a panic.

Then there was the sound of shattering glass.

“Don’t worry, it’s almost over,” Xander said softly.

Andrea nodded, but it didn’t seem like enough. She needed more than his words if she was going to calm down. She needed his arms around her. She needed him to tell her everything was going to be all right and she had nothing to fear.

She wasn’t going to get that, not right now, because just as he turned to face her, one of the officers came back.

“You all right, miss?”

Andrea looked up at the man. “I…”

An ongoing ringing noise sounded in her ears. She knew that sound well. It was the same noise that had drowned out her thoughts after she and Xander had been attacked that first time outside of the club, when they’d both been too drunk on fun and each other to know the attack was coming.

She’d never wanted to feel like this again. She’d never wanted anyone to ever make her feel so small and helpless, and this wasn’t even the second time. This was the third time.

“I…”

Andrea noticed then that her lack of anything concrete and audible was apparently giving the officer in front of her bad vibes. The man brought his hand down to his weapon, as though getting ready to pop it out of its holster.

It didn’t help that Xander stared at the man with dead eyes. He wasn’t glaring, but there was something about the neutral expression on his face that wasn’t so neutral with all of his scars.

“I’m fine,” Andrea said quickly, lifting her hands back to Xander’s shoulders. “This is my boyfriend. We came here together and those dragons attacked us.”

The cop’s hand left the handle of his gun, though Andrea wasn’t about to relax just yet. He seemed to still be suspicious.

Of Xander? Andrea didn’t need protecting from Xander. She needed it from those other dragons.

“Are you sure they were dragons?”

“We’re sure,” Xander said. “They’re from my former clan.”

“You’re a dragon?”

Andrea was stunned. She never appreciated celebrities who threw it in the faces of everyone how big and mighty they were, but in that moment Andrea had the solid urge to look at the guy and ask him how could he not know who Xander Grey was.

She managed to keep herself from doing that, which was good.

Xander always liked flying under the radar whenever he was able.

“I am a dragon,” he said, nodding. “I left my clan. They didn’t appreciate that.”

“We’re clear over here!” one of the officers shouted. The people whose rooms had been busted into came out into the hallways, some wearing their bathrobes and slippers. One guy had his phone to his ear and shouted at someone at the front desk about how pissed off he was this could have happened at the resort he’d paid good money to attend.

Another guest, a woman with cat ears and a tail, trembled as her lover held her in his arms. He pet her ears comfortingly, but it didn’t appear as if she felt it.

The cop looked away from both Andrea and Xander at the call of his fellow officer. He clenched his jaw, looking up towards the sound of his partner, and then turned back to Xander and Andrea. “Okay, neither of you move. I’ll come right back and there needs to be questions answered, got it?”

Andrea wanted to tell the officer that she wanted to take Xander back to his room in case someone recognized him, but he answered before she could get to that. “Got it.”

Andrea looked up at him, stunned as the officer rushed off to see for himself what had been going on in those rooms that had been broken into. “What if someone starts filming you?”

He curled his arm around her waist, pulling her close to his body in a way that she liked, and not just because it was comforting. “They’re already filming,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

“What?” Andrea glanced up and around them. Sure enough, a couple more hotel guests had stepped out of their rooms, despite being told not to do just that by the police. They had their phones up and pointed in a very obvious way.

Andrea couldn’t believe it. Normally she had a sixth sense for whenever the phones and cameras came out. She was a human, but if there was one paranormal thing about her, it was being able to tell when a GoPro was filming her or anyone else around her. No one could secretly catch her on camera.

Until now, it seemed.

She groaned. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. You need to get some clothes on!”

"It's a little late for that," he said, sounding way too mellow about this entire thing.

Even if that cop hadn’t recognized who Xander was, there was the better than even chance that many of the people pointing their phones already did.

“Your contract. Your movie…”

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh my God, how can I not?”

Bad publicity wasn’t necessarily good publicity anymore, and there were certain limits movie studios were willing to make for their actors.

Especially ones who were trying to make a comeback. If one of these idiots posted their video on YouTube talking about how Xander Grey was getting caught up in gang fighting, then that could absolutely ruin everything he had going for him.

Then she remembered. “I was recording it, too!”

She looked up at him, bright and bursting energy rushing through her. She yanked her phone out of her pocket, then had a mild heart attack when she didn’t see the app working.

“Oh shit, fuck my life, no.”

“It’s all right, Andrea. Really.”

It wasn’t all right. Did the stupid app crash? Did she run out of memory?

She hit the record button again, ready to jump out of her skin and bones if the thing didn’t start up fast enough. It did start up, and after two seconds of recording, a message popped up claiming she had indeed run out of internal memory.

The immediate and unpleasant icy cold feeling that frosted her skin, blood, and bones was enough to make her want to throw the damned phone at one of the assholes still recording them.

“Maybe it got a few minutes, or a few seconds, before it stopped.”

Andrea clicked out of the app and went to search through her files, but Xander’s hands on hers, pulling the phone down and out of sight, stopped her.

“Look at me.”

She did, still hating herself, hating that she hadn’t even been able to do this one clever thing that could have absolved him of everything.

“It’s all right,” he said again, his voice a little firmer than before, but still comforting, soft.

As if he was trying to talk down a terrified animal.

“I just wanted to help you.” Andrea looked down at their joined hands. She barely felt the warmth of his fingers. That part of her mind that got obsessive over a story was getting antsy over this.

Whenever she had a deadline, she got it done. Whenever she wanted to write a particular story, she went after it, and now, when she desperately wanted to go back in time and make sure there was enough damned memory on her phone so she could record the conversation, the threats, and how Xander had defended her…she couldn’t.

It wasn’t accidentally deleted and still somewhere on her phone so that she could pay a tech guy to retrieve it. It hadn’t been recorded in the first place.

“Hey, look at me.”

Andrea did. Xander smiled at her, that soft, winning smile that had gotten him nominated for an Oscar the same year he’d also been nominated for the Golden Raspberry. The smile that melted a million hearts, and was only for her.

“If the cancel my contract, then I’ll be fine. I’m glad you’re safe.”

“But it’s your career, you love doing it. If I had to give up what I do, I’d go insane.” Her job annoyed her sometimes, especially when she was given stupid stories to do, forcing her to chase after the good ones on her own time, but being cut off from it forever would devastate her.

She knew it was the same for him.

“I’ll get over it,” he said. “I’ll take smaller parts acting on stage. I’ll do anything else that won’t put you in danger because that’s not what I want for you.” His hand came up behind her neck. His fingers threaded through her hair. “I love you. I love you so much and I couldn’t stand it when I thought they were going to do something to you.” His smile broke a little as he shakily took in a breath. “It got me so fucking scared.”

Now Andrea’s heart was pounding. Worse than even when he’d been making love to her. She almost couldn’t breathe because of it and that was all right.

“You love me?” She could die a happy woman hearing those words. She really could.

“God, yes,” Xander accented his words by leaning in and kissing her.

The applause from the people watching and recording them barely registered to Andrea’s ears as she curled her arms around Xander’s neck, pushing herself up to her toes, and kissed him back with absolutely everything she had.

Chapter 9

It took the police a while before they figured out who Xander was. He actually had to go down to the station with Andrea before someone behind the desk took one look at him, and it was clear from the look in their eyes that they knew.

At least they’d let him get dressed before he had to go down to the station. He didn’t think the cops would have wanted to drag him in naked, but considering how pissed off they were over the situation, he wouldn’t have been surprised.

After that, Xander knew there was no real point in keeping it to himself. The cat was out of the bag.

It didn’t afford him any special treatment. The police here weren’t the sort to give a shit about that sort of thing, and the fact that some of them were alpha wolves meant they got a little extra growly around him.

The warm-blooded shifters didn’t usually take so kindly to the cold-blooded ones, and the fact that Xander got paid big money to stand in front of a camera and pretend to do what they did was something that was also a bit of a piss off for them.

Luckily, despite a little growling on their parts, everything stayed professional. Xander had already gone through something like this once before, after he’d gotten out of the hospital with his face still healing from the shredding he’d been given. It took Xander a couple of hours before he was able to explain everything—his family, why they felt this need to come after him, Andrea, and then for the police to check on everything he said through their records.

It was all there. They had to let him go, but they did so with a warning that he hire more security, and they even offered him and Andrea a police escort until he could get some of his own people.

He would have turned them away had it not been for Andrea.

Xander could handle himself now. He’d proven that when he’d gone up against Bartley, and when he’d seen the appreciation for his new fighting spirit in Awnyay’s eyes.

Andrea.

Xander’s stomach sank when he finally got to see her at the front of the station, waiting for him by the front desk. She’d apparently filled out all her information and had received her phone back, and then she looked at him.

Xander was struck dumb, paralyzed with the terrifying thought that she could turn away from him. She could pretend to not even see him and get her own ride back to the resort. Hell, she could catch a cab directly back to the airport and he might never see her again after this.

Their relationship hadn’t survived the first attack. They didn’t really have a relationship now that could be broken. One round of lovemaking, and a few emotional confessions in the heat of the moment didn’t mean they had something there.

Something that could be spared.

Andrea smiled softly at him, an expression that made his heart pound for all the different meanings a look like that could hold, but then she reached her hand out to him, and there was only one thing that could mean.

He went to her, took her hand, and threaded their fingers together. The ache in his chest was as painful as though he was being rejected. He didn’t understand that. Sometimes a great happiness was enough to make a man hurt just as much as a great sadness, it seemed.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked, pretending as if she wasn’t holding his heart in her hands and she could crush it at any moment.

“The second you are,” she said.

Xander sighed. He filled out the paperwork, grabbed his phone, and then he got out of there with his woman.

“They’re eventually going to come back.”

Andrea looked up at Xander. He leaned against the wall of her room, his arms folded as she packed her bags.

Because she was moving into his rooms. For her own safety, as well as because she wanted to. Wanted to be closer to him.

He’d looked happy enough when she’d asked to do that, but now, his mouth pursed, his gaze was firmly on the floor, as if he didn’t want to look at her, and it was clear he wasn’t so happy about this.

Andrea stood straight, stepping away from her bed where her two suitcases were wide open. “Will you be able to fight them off?”

He shrugged. “Hard to say. I’ll have some people with me to protect you if they come back for that, but there’s also…” He trailed off, seemed to struggle with something, and then plowed ahead. “I don’t want to give you any false hope of anything, just in case they come back for a fight, but there is also the chance they won’t want to fight me at all. Or at least, not seriously.”

Andrea went to him. She touched his shoulders, bending her knees just a little so she could get into his line of sight. She smiled at him when he was finally looking at her, and she was able to stand straight.

“So, you mean they won’t try to hurt us anymore?”

Xander scratched the back of his neck. “It’s possible. Dragons respect strength, warriors. I saw it in Awnyay, and even a little on Bartley. They were shocked I was holding my own. They might want to come back to test me a little more, and they’re never going to be happy with my chosen profession, but this might be enough to convince them to back off.”

“You learned how to fight and defend yourself for real and it’s going to be what drives them off, huh?”

“Basically, yes,” he said. He didn’t sound happy to admit that. He sounded upset, upset that he had to go through the trouble of learning how to fight to begin with just so he could defend her.

That didn’t sit well with her. Andrea didn’t want him to be bothered, upset, or angry about anything that was out of his control, and the need to do something about it, to comfort him, refused to be ignored.

She pushed herself up onto her toes. She kissed Xander’s scarred lips. They felt rougher than they looked, and they made her love him all the more. Those scars were a reminder of how much he’d fought to defend her the first time those people had come for him, and this time when they’d come, because of her, he’d been able to keep himself, and her, safe.

She pulled back from his mouth, looking up at him, sorry it had to even come to this to begin with. “I’m sorry I brought them back to you.”

Xander’s gaze was understanding, his hands sliding up and down her arms. “I’m sorry they came to you to begin with.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry.”

“Well, I don’t want you to be sorry either.” He smiled at her. “I think we might be stuck with it.”

She didn’t like the sound of that. Her guilt was still there, but also the relief of knowing he didn’t blame her for her part in the attack.

It had been especially hard to explain that to the police.

“I was supposed to meet you here at a romantic, tropical resort, and I kind of ruined it.”

“Well, we’re still here,” Xander said. “The resort upgraded my room, too, so it’s not too bad. We can still enjoy ourselves.”

“I’m still having trouble believing there was a room better than the one you already had,” she said. “You had a fireplace and a dining room.”

He grinned at her. “Lifestyles of the rich and the famous.”

“And I think your brother smashed an actual piano.”

She shouldn’t have said that; the reminder brought back the scowl that had been on his face. The reminder that they had come so close to losing absolutely everything.

She touched his face, her palm sliding over his cheek, as though she could soothe the frown away with that alone. “Don’t be mad.”

He grabbed her by her wrists, and she could see the fire in his eyes as his inner dragon struggled to come out. It was both nerve wracking and erotic as all hell to see.

“How can I not be mad? Jesus Christ, this was the second time this happened and I still couldn’t keep them away from you.”

“You actually did a better job than you’re giving yourself credit for,” Andrea said, smiling, trying to make light of the situation. “See me? Right here? Completely safe.”

Xander growled. “I should have worked harder. I should have been better. My teacher would have been disappointed if he could have seen me.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d referenced a mentor of some kind since they’d left the police station, and she had to admit, she was curious.

“Who did you train with? Was it one person? Or a lot of people?”

“One, in the end.” Xander briefly looked away from her, his eyes casting downwards, his thumbs sliding across the flesh of her wrists. “I went to plenty of different people, some shifters, some humans, but all were alphas in their own right.” He finally looked at her, and the vulnerability Andrea could see in his eyes was something she wished she could take away from him, but if he needed to let this out, then she was going to listen. “In the end, I settled on one person. An old fox shifter, if you could believe it.”

That got Andrea’s brows lifting. “A fox?”

Xander smirked. “I know, you would think it would have been a wolf, or a hawk, but there is something to be said about training under a cunning animal. He made it so that I didn’t see too much of this anymore when I looked in the mirror.” He pointed at the scars on his face. “When I got work done on my face, I almost didn’t want to do it. Somehow, having the scars be deep and red and angry seemed better. But now that you’re here…”

He trailed off. He didn’t need to finish.

Andrea moved her hands to his face, needing to touch him. The scars were still bad, but she supposed she could see the logic he was using here.

“They were your battle scars.”

He’d had to survive in order to get them.

“Yeah. Pretty dumb that I wish I hadn’t gotten any work done on my face, huh?”

“No, I think it’s normal, and if you didn’t want to do anymore work, then that’s fine. I’m going to stay here with you no matter what.”

“What if I did want to get more work done? Say I landed a part and I couldn’t refuse it.” He was smiling now. At least that was something. That was a good sign she could get behind.

“Then you could do that, too. Your body. Your choice.”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “I think I might keep them like this. I honestly don’t mind them so much anymore.”

“You’re going to have to introduce me to that teacher of yours,” Andrea said. “I’ll need to thank him for all the work he’s done with you.”

Xander’s grin became brighter, something she recognized from back when they were both carefree and stupidly in love.

It made her a little stupidly in love with him right now.

“I told him about you a couple of times. He’ll want to meet you.”

“Good things, I hope? Maybe?”

Xander’s hands slid down and around her waist. “Definitely good things. Nothing but.”

She sighed. He could be lying to her about that part and she wouldn’t care. What was in the past was in the past. The only thing she cared about in that moment was looking ahead.

With him.

“What will you do about your job? Your story?” Xander asked.

Andrea clenched her teeth. She’d been hoping she wouldn’t have to think about that for a little while, but she supposed that may have been a bit too much to have hoped for.

She looked up at Xander, a wry smile on her face. “What would you say to giving me an exclusive?”

He raised his brows. “An exclusive story? Sure. Is that allowed with your contract?”

“I can leave whenever I want. I’d have to be on my own or with another company before publishing it. It’s a gossip rag. No one takes them seriously anyway, and I’m tired of working there.”

“So if I give you an exclusive interview about what happened here, it will make it easier to grab another job?”

“Or I could work on my own,” she said. “Start a website, get my stories up on there, pull together some funding. I could be a real journalist.”

“You can’t be a real journalist with a bigger news organization?”

She gave him a look. “You of all people should know better than to ask that question.”

He laughed. It was a happy sound, and it made Andrea feel happy to hear it.

“I want to hear you laugh like that for the rest of your life.”

“Is that a proposal?” Xander asked. “You were supposed to wait for me to do that.”

Heat climbed her neck. She had to look away from him in that moment because it was way too embarrassing to think about how fast their conversation had gone down this road.

“Well, what if I wanted to ask first?”

Xander pressed his lips together. They stood there, quietly looking at each other in a silence that was louder than anything Andrea had ever before experienced.

“I can’t tell if we’re being serious, or just talking about this.”

Andrea pushed herself back up to her toes, kissing him one more time. She’d wanted to kiss him to comfort him as much as she needed to comfort herself, but when she pulled back, it was the glaze in his eyes that made her stop.

Somehow, the way he looked at her, as if he wouldn’t mind being married to her, made all the right places inside her body melt.

“You want to?” he asked.

Andrea pressed her lips together. “Sure.”

“Sure?” he asked, his mouth quirking. “Just sure? You’re okay with hitching your saddle to a dragon, and whenever your in-laws come knocking it’ll be because they want to burn down our house with the both of us in it?”

“Hmm,” Xander might have said that as if he was joking, but she could still sense the hint of seriousness in his voice.

He wanted her to be sure. To be fair, she wanted to be sure, too.

“Maybe you can introduce me to the old fox who taught you, and he can show me a couple of moves.” She smiled up at Xander, noting the way he blinked, absorbing her words, and then put his hands behind her head, kissing her hard.

Her body warmed. Okay, this kiss was definitely better than the ones she’d been giving him.

She’d wanted to comfort him because of what his family had been doing, but little did she know, having her mouth claimed and taken like this was about the best possible thing she could have done for him.

Xander held her close, inching her towards the bed. She knew where he was going with this, and she was entirely on board.

They fell on her bed together, Xander rising up onto his hands, looking down at her with a glimmer in his eyes that made him look younger. As if his scars weren’t even there.

“I love you.”

Andrea ran her fingers through his hair. “I love you, too. Do we have enough time before I have to get out of this room?”

“They’d make an exception, and then I’m going to take you to dinner, and we’re going to do this all over again.”

“In your room?”

He nodded, the both of them pulling themselves higher up the bed. Xander stayed on his knees, his large fingers slowly pulling open the buttons of her blouse.

“In our room,” he said, smiling at her as her bra was revealed.

He swiftly unclasped it, revealing her breasts before he leaned down, pressing his lips to one of her budding nipples.

Andrea sighed, pushing her chest against his mouth, her fingers threading through his hair. “Then we can do all the honeymooning things. Swim with the mermaids, tan on the beach.”

Xander looked up at her. “We are at a resort, after all.”

“And the resort is scared enough to give us pretty much whatever we want, aren’t they?”

That playful gleam returned to his eyes, and the smile he gave her showed off one of his corner fangs. “Baby, while I’m not opposed to letting the resort spoil you rotten on their dime, I think you forgot how much I got paid for doing those movies. I can spoil you rotten just fine when we get out of here.”

“Oh yeah.” Andrea nodded, then grinned at him. “I guess that’s the reason why you love me? Because I can actually forget that you’re made of money?”

“That’s exactly it,” he said, leaning in and kissing her again.

It was going to be a good night.

Tristan

Knight’s Edge Series

Liz Gavin

Izzie Anderson had a remarkable singing voice, an angelic face and a hot body. Too young for rock stardom, she partied too hard, stooped too low and hurt the only man who loved her for who she really was. She betrayed Tristan Knight’s trust and ripped out his heart, but she lied to protect him. Now she needs Tristan to save her son. Will he believe her when she confesses the truth? Or are there wrongs that can never be righted?

Fifteen years ago, Tristan Knight found a haven in a secluded beach in the Southern coast of Brazil, where he mended his tattered heart and healed his invisible scars. Away from the deceit of the music industry, he started fresh as the owner of a high-end restaurant. He never thought he would meet Izzie again, so when she walks into Chez Nous Bistro one evening, he expects to get outraged. When he doesn’t, he realizes her betrayal left him heartless. So why is it that his soul feels less hollow every time he sees her?

Can two damaged souls heal each other? Or are some lies impossible to forgive?

Acknowledgments

A big part of my writing process consists of interacting with Alpha Readers. If you are not familiar with the term, they are the brave people who read rough drafts, before editors or beta readers set eyes on a story. I have found the best group of such brave souls in Chantal, Colleen, Jaime, Linda, Monique and Ola, who worked with me while I wrote this short-story. You, ladies, are the best! You stuck with Tristan until the very end and showed me things I would not have noticed otherwise. Thank YOU!

At this point in my writing career, Kover to Kover has become indispensable. Kim Birdsell, its founder and editor extraordinaire, polishes my manuscripts with such precision and care I would rarely find elsewhere. Thanks, my friend, for another outstanding job. I am glad I can count on your commitment, professionalism and high-quality work.

Edited by Kover to Kover

Cover by Dokeshi’s Book Services

Chapter 1

Tristan stroked Bruna’s smooth back before anchoring her with one hand on her shoulder and angling himself to go deeper. His grunts matched her groans as his length slid past her G-spot. As his speed increased moving in and out of her, Tristan smacked her round butt cheeks and leaned on her back, reaching around for her wet folds.

Bruna threw her head back. “God!” she screamed when he found her clit and tweaked it.

“That’s right, beautiful. Give it to me,” he whispered in her ear, when her flesh began to tremble around his erection.

A few more thrusts and she came on his cock. It didn’t take long for Tristan to unload, triggering a new series of orgasms in the brunette’s body. Her round thighs shook while her arms gave out from under her. Bruna collapsed on the mattress, rolling onto her back. Gleaming brown eyes stared at Tristan from under heavy lids and a grin brightened her face. “Every. Damn. Time. You’re like a sex machine or something.”

“You sound surprised,” Tristan chuckled as he knotted the used condom and hopped off the bed to dispose of it in the bathroom.

“Honestly, I thought after a couple of dates the novelty would wear off and you’d move on.”

“Ouch! I sound shallow when you say it like that,” Tristan sat on the bed beside Bruna, splaying his hand on her midriff. “What the hell do you mean by novelty?”

She dropped her eyes to his hand as it drew circles on her skin. Her cheeks flushed and she didn’t return her gaze to his face as she whispered, “Well, I’m not the kind of girl who lands guys like you. I mean, look at me! I’m fat as a cow. You’re way out of my league.”

Tristan stopped outlining the suntan lines on her lower body with the tip of his fingers to frame her face in his hands. “Hey, look at me,” he waited for Bruna to drag her eyes back to his. “I like your body the way it is. There’s nothing wrong with a pair of luscious thighs.” He released her face to squeeze her thighs and plant a naughty kiss below her belly button, then moved his hands under her body to find his favorite feature. “Or a round swattable butt.”

Bruna sighed when his fingers teased her crack as Tristan leaned down to plant a soft kiss on her turned-up nose. She moved her head up a fraction and their lips locked in a quick, but intense kiss. Tristan broke it before he changed his mind.

“You really gotta go? It’s not even five yet.”

“Sorry, beautiful. I’ve got tons of things to do before heading to the restaurant and you’re a distraction,” he apologized as he went around her tidy room collecting the articles of clothing he scattered around last night.

He pulled up the zipper on his jeans without bothering to button them. The tight black tank top covered the dangling ends of the belt. He would finish dressing as he went out. Shoving wallet and phone in his back pockets, he snatched his keys from her nightstand.

“See you later?” Bruna’s hopeful tone sounded out of character. She was the one who made the booty call and spelled it out that it was just a booty call.

It betrayed her insecurity though. His arguments didn’t seem to be convincing enough. At the same time, he didn’t want to be a jerk by misleading her. True, he never considered her physique to be an issue. True, they had scorching hot chemistry in the sack. True, she knew he wasn’t into long-term anything. Looking at her sparkling eyes, he couldn’t find the courage to remind her of that. Not at that moment.

He went for the next best thing. “I’ll do my best. I’ve got a long night ahead of me. I’ll call you, if I’m not dead beat when I come home.”

She nodded and he left. Ignoring the elevator, Tristan climbed the ten flights of stairs to his floor without breaking a sweat. Exercising regularly at the oceanfront promenade that ran along Beira-Mar Norte Avenue was paying off. He grinned as he opened the door to his apartment, grabbed his car keys and left again. Even though he barely slept a wink last night and his body begged for some respite, he couldn’t do anything about it. He was running late. He should have left for the Farmer’s Market half an hour ago.

As he waited for the elevator, he sent a little prayer to the universe that he’d still find decent produce at the market. Chef Durand would be pissed if the delivery truck brought him subpar ingredients later today. Tristan couldn’t blame him for that. When the shining metal doors chimed open, he climbed in the elevator and pressed the garage button on the high-tech panel. He watched the bright blue numbers decreasing as he traveled from the penthouse to the underground garage.

“Today’s going to be a fucking long one,” Tristan muttered to himself as he rubbed the back of his neck.

He was an expert in compartmentalizing, so although he cared for Bruna and felt crappy for not having the balls to make their no-strings-attached situation clearer, Tristan had already moved those issues to the back of his mind when the elevator opened its doors and he sprinted to his car.

Tristan rushed out of the shower toweling himself. Splotching as many thick water drops on the floor as the ones he effectively dried off his body, he mumbled a string of colorful words about never hitting the snooze button again.

“Motherfucker!” he yelled when his bare toes slammed against the bed post. It was going to smart throughout the evening, reminding him of how much the expression ‘just five more minutes’ shouldn’t be used when one needed to get up.

Just what I needed. Standing up those three additional hours behind the bar counter today will be a blast. Damn it!

He hopped around the cluttered bedroom pulling on a pair of fresh gray underwear and the charcoal gray dress pants he wore the night before. He searched for a clean shirt, ignoring the dazzling sight of a blood orange sun hovering low over turquoise waters behind the iconic Hercilio Luz Bridge. The stunning ocean views, framed by double floor-to-ceiling balcony doors, were the features that convinced Tristan to rent that oceanfront apartment in downtown Florianópolis instead of a house closer to the restaurant. Now was not the time for contemplation though.

Having put on socks and shoes in record time, Tristan buttoned up the crispy-white shirt with one hand, while the other shoved wallet and keys in the back pockets of his pants. He crossed the spacious living room towards the front door with a few steps.

In the elevator, he thumbed his cell phone, scrolling down the screen to call the restaurant bar. “Hey, Moira. What’s up?”

“Tell me you’re parking,” her low growl sounded nothing like Moira’s usual sunny disposition.

“I will be in about fifteen,” he flinched at the torrent of high-pitched graphic words that pricked his ear as Moira cussed in her native Portuguese. He learned enough of the language to gauge just how pissed she was at him. He apologized, “My bad. Sorry.”

“Puta que pariu! Shit, man! You’re already fifteen minutes late, dude. I’ve gotta take Dani to the doctor.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He screwed his face at his ineptitude to come up with a more eloquent reply to Moira’s concern. She deserved better, so he tried again. “Listen, you’ll make it in time. I promise. I’m on my way. Just wanted to let you know I was running late. Gotta go.”

As the elevator doors opened, Tristan jogged to the convertible parked two spaces to the right and hopped into the driver’s seat without bothering to open the door. When he exited the garage, the sun glinted off the polished red hood, blinding Tristan for a moment. He hastily grabbed the sunglasses from a small compartment in the dashboard to the left of the steering wheel. As he merged into traffic on Beira-Mar Norte Avenue, he revved the engine of the M4 GTS and sped up towards the freeway. Luckily, all the lights remained green and he got on the southbound freeway without hassle. Late afternoon traffic was surprisingly light, which allowed Tristan to make it to the parking lot behind the restaurant in lightspeed time. Not meeting any cops on the way certainly helped.

Moira was probably stalking the parking lot through the restaurant windows because she stormed out of the backdoor as he pulled up to his reserved spot. When she stomped by him on the way to her car, long blond curls bouncing off her back, she slowed down just enough to gift Tristan with a farewell scowl. She turned on the engine of her battered green Jetta and started backing out of her spot before he was out of his car.

“’Bout time, man,” she shouted through the half-open window before peeling off. Tires screeched while pedestrians jumped backwards to avoid her maniac maneuver worthy of a bank robbery getaway car driver.

After watching his employee’s red tail lights disappear around the corner, Tristan hung his head and shook it, as he walked to the door, grumbling, “Today can’t get any worse.”

While evening shifts were the busiest at the restaurant, happy hour shifts were the busiest time at the bar. So, when he agreed to cover for Moira, Tristan knew he was in for a long, stressful double shift. Yet he couldn’t deny her request. Busting her ass off to raise her kids since the ex-husband moved to another state, Moira rarely asked for anyone to cover for her. Certainly, she needed money to keep up with the bills and happy hour tips were the most generous. As adorable as her small children were, providing for Danielle and Felipe kept Moira’s finances constantly on the brink of collapse. Not comfortable. Tristan knew all too well what it took for a single mom to raise a kid. His was loaded, money not booze, yet it didn’t mean he had an easy childhood, so he did what he could to help Moira. Another reason for beating himself up for being late.

I shouldn’t have taken that afternoon nap. What was I thinking?

Problem was Tristan wasn’t sleeping well. Aside from the distraction Bruna turned out to be, he wasn’t getting much sleep, even when he didn’t respond to her booty calls. Or didn’t make some of his own. Insomnia had been a thing of the past until a couple of months ago. Family issues mixed with bad investment decisions triggered old demons. He convinced himself the sleepless nights had nothing to do with recent tabloid headlines. He made a point of ignoring those anyway. He steered clear of gossip as much as humanly possible.

No. I’m worried about money. That’s all.

Pulling himself out of the bleak thoughts, Tristan grabbed a cloth to clean a spotless bar counter. Moira ran a tight ship and was borderline OCD with cleanliness.

“Two Caipirinhas, table five,” Ana handed Tristan a slip of paper that he stuck to the counter as he pulled the ingredients and started mixing the drinks. “Hey, too bad Moira’s kid is sick, but I’m glad you’re covering for her. I never get to see you, boss.”

Tristan ignored the wink the cheeky waitress threw his way. She was a flirt, who would get bold if he gave her half a chance, but he didn’t mix business with pleasure. Not anymore. He learned his lesson the hardest way.

That didn’t mean he was a bore. Winking back, he quipped, “You avoid the night shifts like the plague.”

“Boyfriend’s too jealous,” Ana replied, flipping her long red hair over her shoulder and laughing out loud.

“How’s college treating you?” She didn’t have a steady boyfriend, but the night classes she was taking kept her away from Chez Nous Bistro.

“Getting there, boss.”

“Good for you. High schools need more awesome teachers like you.”

“It’s elementary, but that’s okay.” Her long, tanned fingers thrummed the counter as she waited for the drinks. Then she smoothed the front of her white button-down shirt and tucked it into her black mini-skirt. The elegant restaurant logo was embroidered in golden thread in the black apron she wore over the skirt. “I guess old Mrs. Oliveira couldn’t take Dani to the doctor, huh? It sucks. Depending on others,” Ana clarified.

Moira paid a neighbor to babysit the kids and the generous elderly woman would even take them to doctor appointments whenever she could.

“Tell me about it. The poor woman had something scheduled today and couldn’t change it, so Moira needed to take Dani to the doctor.”

“And you just waltzed in to save the day.”

He shrugged. “Not a big deal. Glad to help.” He put the two glasses filled with a greenish mix of lime juice and cachaça, the Brazilian sugar cane liquor, and lots of ice cubes on Ana’s tray. “There you go.”

“Thanks, boss.” With a million-dollar smile and another wink, she swirled and flounced towards table five, attracting many approving stares as she went.

Tristan was a night owl, which made the late shift perfect for him. His partners gladly let him take charge of closing time. Although today was an exception, he was glad to cover for Moira since bartending would keep his mind busy. It was something he loved doing, but rarely had a chance to. Focusing on preparing the drinks kept the problems at bay. Maybe the ghosts from his past wouldn’t haunt him and he would sleep better tonight.

Answering his cell phone, Tristan tucked it on the crook of his neck holding it in place with his shoulder, while he mixed drinks for another order. “What’s up, loser?”

“That’s how you greet your business partner and lifelong friend?” Noah Cartwright’s amused retort was buried under loud guitar riffs.

“Where the hell are you?”

“Home, rehearsing. Where the hell are you? I’ve banged on your door so hard it stung my hand.”

Tristan smacked his forehead. “Shit! Totally forgot, dude.”

“I kind of figured that one out, man,” Noah chortled. “Clicking and swashing sounds, muffled voices. Bet you’re at the bistro. A bit early, isn’t it?

“Covering for Moira. Listen, I’m sorry I forgot about rehearsal, but it’s not like we’re going to perform any time soon.”

“One day I’ll drag you to the dark side, kicking and screaming if I have to.”

“Been there, done that, didn’t do much for me.”

“What the hell are you babbling about, Big T? You made a shitload of money with your lyrics and I’m not talking only Izzie Anderson.” That name still stung Tristan and Noah should have known better. He must have heard Tristan’s sharp intake of breath because he kept talking. “Anyway, that’s all in the past. She moved on. You moved away to another country.”

“Not that simple,” Tristan replied, tight-lipped.

“Hey, it’s me you’re talking to, dude. I was there. I know how bad it was. I’m just saying you shouldn’t dwell. It’s been fifteen fucking years.”

“I haven’t been living like a monk.”

“Nothing wrong with serial dating, man, but I wasn’t talking about your sex life. I meant getting back in the music biz.”

Tristan rolled his eyes. Noah was persistent, if anything else. “Give up, Baby Face. Not interested.”

Tristan couldn’t suppress a lopsided smile at his friend’s fake sounding sigh. Noah insisted, “You can’t stifle your natural talent forever. The band needs you. I need you.”

Tristan chuckled, “What band? It’s just a handful of guys goofing around for the sake of it. Get over yourself. I’ve got work to do here. You know, at our restaurant, while you play rock star.” Noah’s laughter was contagious and Tristan joined him. “Talk later, bro.”

Ignoring Noah’s protests, Tristan hung up and returned the cell to his back pocket. Whatever good effects bartending brought earlier, Noah’s call put a serious dent on them. Tristan didn’t sulk in past grief. He didn’t dwell in past wounds. It had taken him a painful, long time to get over the damage caused by one Izzie Anderson. He preferred to keep her away from his mind. Those stupid recent tabloid headlines weren’t helping him achieve that.

Shaking his head, he reminded himself he was better off away from the spotlight. It changes people. It destroys them, if they let it.

Still, memories kept resurfacing as he refilled bowls on the counter with peanuts. He glanced out of the panoramic windows overlooking the beach and his heart felt less heavy. Fifteen years ago, when he hit rock bottom, Tristan was so eager to get away from Los Angeles, he thought a foreign country would make for a good choice. Thanks to Noah, who had traveled to Brazil pursuing an ex-girlfriend, Tristan decided to take a break in a quiet tropical setting. Best decision ever. Hidden away in the southernmost tip of Florianópolis island in Santa Catarina, Tristan found a small stretch of white sand framed by tropical forest. Matadeiro Beach, accessed only by water or a narrow trail through the wilderness from the neighboring Armação Beach, was worth the effort. His wounded soul found healing in contact with the generous locals, mostly fishermen and their families, and the breathtaking views of emerald sea, blue sky and white sand.

Halfway through the extra shift, Tristan forgot all about self-doubt, increasing debt and past or present nightmares. In fact, he was having a blast when Ricardo, the night shift’s bartender, arrived. The tall man had an imposing figure with his wide shoulders and powerful arms, but his smiling countenance, framed by sun bleached hair that curled softly over his forehead and ears, gave off a good vibe. Surfer vibe. Well, Ricardo was a local surf champion, so the impression was accurate.

“Did I miss the tweet where you fired me, boss?”

“Nah. Just having fun and messing up your stuff. Maybe having fun because I’m messing up your stuff?” Tristan finished washing the glasses and folded the dishcloth neatly on the counter behind him, after wiping his hands on it. “Bar is all yours. I’ll be in the office, if anyone needs me.”

Weaving this way through the tables in the main room, Tristan had to stop at every other one to greet the early birds that gradually filled the restaurant.

“Lovely place you have here. Congratulations,” praised an elderly man Tristan had never seen before at Chez Nous. Judging by his accent, Tristan figured he was from Louisiana.

“Thank you, sir. Is everything okay?” Tristan glanced at the elegant lady sitting across from the man as he inquired so that she felt included.

“Just perfect, son,” she drawled.

“Escaping from the cold winter back home?”

The silver-haired gentleman stroked the lady’s hand and she squeezed his in return. The glance they exchanged spoke volumes before the man had a chance to speak. He dragged his ocean blue eyes from the lovely woman’s face to Tristan’s, then explained, “Celebrating fifty glorious years. Never a dull moment.”

“Impressive.” Tristan fought the nagging sting in his chest and kept smiling. “I don’t know many couples who’ve been married that long.”

“Oh, no, son. We met fifty years ago, been married thirty,” the woman corrected.

The man chuckled. “I wasted about ten years, but have been making up for it ever since. Right, dear?”

“Yes, hon,” she agreed, her dark green eyes reflecting the light of the small floating candles in the centerpiece.

“Congratulations again. Enjoy your meal.”

Another couple of feet towards the office and he heard a familiar voice to his left. It was Mario, a regular client, calling out in his thick Brazilian accent, “Tristan, my man. Good to see you.” The bespectacled, middle-aged man raised a glass of red wine in greeting.

Tristan nodded in response, still fighting to keep a smile on his face. The interaction with the tourist couple annoyed him, yet he wasn’t willing to analyze the reasons why. Stopping beside the hostess, he peeked over her shoulder and checked the reservations for that night.

“Looking good, huh?”

“Booked solid until the end of the month. Good job with that TV commercial. Most of the ladies calling in asked, and I quote, if the ‘drop-dead-gorgeous guy’ from TV was the owner and if the six-pack was real or photoshopped.”

Karen Razzini moonlighted at Chez Nous’s greeting podium at night, but her day job was as the restaurant’s bookkeeper. Nelson Razzini, her brother, was Tristan and Noah’s Brazilian partner and old friend. Although the restaurant working environment was informal, as it was typical of the Brazilian culture, Karen’s status as longtime friend warranted her getting away with that kind of comment.

Still, Tristan’s cheeks burned and Karen taunted, “Aww, how cute is that? You’re blushing. Get out of here and let me do my job.” Karen nodded towards the door as it creaked open before adding in a low voice so that only he could hear, “You’re too much of a distraction.”

His delighted chuckle died out and the twinkle in his eyes vanished, when he lifted his head to welcome the newcomers.

“You!” He didn’t try to disguise the accusatory tone as he growled, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Of all the trendy restaurants, in all the south of Brazil, Izzie Anderson walks into mine.

It’s been almost fifteen years, but her betrayal cut through Tristan just as much as the day she told him she was pregnant. And that the baby wasn’t his.

Chapter 2

Get a grip, girl. Focus on the task at hand. Izzie Anderson reprimanded herself when she realized she was gawking. She forgot how hot Tristan was.

Time stopped as her eyes glued on his athletic physique, covered in an elegant white dress shirt and black pants. Tristan was about to turn forty, yet he looked barely thirty. That tropical tan gave him a healthy aspect to boost.

His dark blue eyes squinted when his square jaw locked and his nostrils flared. When the silence stretched because her mouth was dry, his full lips inched up in a sardonic smile. His pain was turning to scorn. Izzie couldn’t bear it. Her voice deserted her as she drew a blank and forgot the speech she rehearsed in her head countless times. Her mind was filled up by Tristan’s anguish and her remorse.

His hurt. Her sorrow. No atonement.

I can’t do this.

Izzie expected a cold reception, but the pain darkening Tristan’s eyes did funny things to her insides. It was such a raw emotion, it left her feeling gutted and exposed. Her sins came back in a rush to haunt her, as if she didn’t already deal with them on a regular basis.

A sudden ringing in her ear stole her balance and Izzie grasped the golden lectern on her right to steady herself, shaking it and sending the hostess’s papers gliding to the floor.

“I’ve got this.” The soft-spoken brunette crouched to pick up her notes and Izzie felt her cheeks burn.

Returning her focus to the 6-feet worth of rage looming in front of her, rational thoughts went out the door and Izzie felt again like the naïve fifteen-year-old she once was. Right about the time her life turned an unexpected spin for the better. Or so she thought.

Now’s not the time to go there.

Izzie squared her shoulders, recalling why she decided to reach out to Tristan after all these years. She had a mission she couldn’t fail. She’d better bite the bullet. She knew it would be hard facing him, but she didn’t expect to find his wounds still open and festering.

The prolonged, uncomfortable silence was made worse by the way he crossed his strong arms over his broad chest and set his long legs wide apart, as if ready to pounce.

“Well?” His deep voice stirred parts of her she forgot existed.

Izzie opened her mouth to reply. No sounds came out, which annoyed her because it was so out of character.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day. Little Miss Izzie Anderson at a loss for words. I’ll be damned.” His irony wasn’t lost on her. When they were kids growing up in North Ranch, they used to argue endlessly about any and all insignificant details. It got worse when they started dating while they were going to Westlake High. Except, then, arguments would end up in hot make-out sessions, when in public, or sweaty mind-blowing sex, if behind doors.

Don’t go there!

Shaking her head to dismiss images of Tristan’s muscled legs tangled with hers or his strong fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he drove her wild, Izzie took a deep breath. The memories weakened her knees and made her see things that weren’t there. Like his eyes turning a darker shade of indigo blue, making her think she picked up a flicker of heat in them. The kind of heat they used to generate in the past instead of today’s anger. It was gone before she could be sure. His gaze went back to the cold rejection that chilled her blood.

Eager to break the silence, she blurted the first thing that came to mind, “How’s Lilly?”

Really Izzie?!

A nerve ticked in his jaw, indicating he agreed that was a stupid thing to say. “Peachy. Thanks for asking.”

He slouched his shoulders when she asked about his mother just as another pained glint flashed in his eyes before the scowl returned to defy her.

Liar, she thought, surprised she could still tell he was hiding something. She lost the right to that.

She turned her chin up to hide her pain and sighed. “You’re not making this any easier.”

“I didn’t know I was supposed to.”

When she lied to him, she also lost the right to expect him to be compassionate. It didn’t matter that she lied to protect him. He never knew that and she didn’t regret that part, the protecting Tristan part. It was the right thing to do. The only thing to do.

She landed her dream deal with a record company at thirteen, too inexperienced to realize she was about to start on a path to fame and misfortune. Head over heels in love with her best friend, Izzie thought she could conquer the world if Tristan was by her side. And conquer the rock world she did, with him as her partner. Tristan wrote the words that her fans screamed out in packed full stadiums on sold out tours around the world. He gave her the confidence she lacked to pour her heart out in every recording session.

He was her rock.

When Izzie broke him, she lost so much more than his love. She lost her ground.

She needed to convince Tristan she changed, but how would she ask him to forgive her when she never forgave herself?

Tristan’s head pounded with a vengeance. He was aware it would be painful to meet Izzie again, but that devastating emptiness in his chest was an unpleasant surprise. He thought he would be furious, outraged even. When he daydreamed about that moment, he pictured himself dismissing Izzie with a few well-deserved arctic remarks.

He thought he was over her betrayal. He thought he was over her. Period.

Instead, his blood turned to lava at the sight of her perfect round face framed by pitch black hair cut way too short. Large green eyes sparkled in the dim light of the restaurant, accentuating a turned-up nose and heart-shaped lips that wore a pale shade of rose. Such a subdued color, lightyears away from the dark mauve hues that used to stain his tank tops and various parts of his anatomy.

Don’t go there!

He made a superhuman effort to ignore his body’s reactions to her petite form. She had that power over him, turning him into a mess of quivering muscles that hungered for her soothing touch. For the longest time, Izzie was the only one who appeased that hunger. He was annoyed to learn she still sent his libido into overdrive. He wasn’t a hormone-driven teen anymore. He should be able to control that.

Tristan banned memories of their good times to focus on the pain and humiliation she brought him. He needed to send her back so he could return to his new life. He didn’t want to know why she was there. He didn’t care. He didn’t want to find out if the rumors were true. He didn’t need her lying shit right now. He surely didn’t need to make her feel comfortable, when his guts felt turned inside out. Throughout the years, Tristan realized he had a hollow space where his heart once was. Now, it felt like that gaping hole swallowed his soul. She had made him heartless and soulless.

So why does my chest hurt so goddamn much?

A not-so-discreet cough sounded to his right and Tristan snapped out of his trance. He and Izzie were silently dueling right at his restaurant’s entrance hall, so Karen had to remind him she had a job to do. Looking past Izzie’s head, he became conscious that at least five customers were standing, waiting to be taken to their reserved tables. None looked pleased.

Tristan acknowledged the group with a nod and an apologetic grin, “I’m so sorry. Welcome to Chez Nous Bistro.” He nodded towards the hostess, who didn’t smile back at him. She would give him lip next chance she had. He deserved it. “Karen’s going to take good care of you. Enjoy your meal.”

He motioned for Izzie to follow him since she didn’t know the way, as he marched through linen covered tables where celeb-struck people gaped. He tried without success not to stomp, deaf to the lively rendition of Mozart’s Serenade No. 13 that streamed from invisible loudspeakers. Noah, Nelson and Tristan busted their asses to put together the restaurant and it turned out a damn classy joint. He was proud of Chez Nous. He was comfortable there. It was an Izzie-free zone, his safe haven. He didn’t want Izzie in his workplace. He didn’t want to make new memories that would torment him later.

Not anymore.

On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare clients away, so he couldn’t take Izzie to the parking lot, nor could they stay in the lobby or in the main room. The office was the only place left where they could have some privacy. He jerked the door open and waited for Izzie to enter, followed her in, then slammed the door shut.

She looked impressed. “You’ve got a nice thing going here,” she praised and he didn’t know if she meant the upscale restaurant or the elegant office furniture.

Either way, he didn’t care. “Cut the crap. Why are you here?”

He ignored the twinkle in her green eyes that resembled ache. He reminded his heart that he was heartless. No feelings allowed. He couldn’t budge. If he hesitated for a moment, he would give Izzie the upper hand. In the past, her suffering was his undoing. Every. Fucking. Time. Not anymore.

So why is my heart thudding against my ribcage? Telling his traitorous ticker to be still, Tristan glowered at the woman standing next to him. Ignoring the perilous curves that the green silk of her calf-length dress hugged, he crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

“Mind if I sit down?”

“Suit yourself.”

He chose to stand beside his mahogany desk while Izzie sat on the edge of one of the overstuffed leather chairs facing it.

“What happened to Lilly?”

“What do you care?” Tristan muttered through clenched teeth.

Again, with the sad puppy eyes? He wouldn’t fall for that.

Izzie shrugged. “Your mom was always nice to me. Besides my parents, I didn’t have much of a family in Thousand Oaks. Lilly was kind of an aunt to me.”

“I remember how your parents spoiled you rotten.” Disdain framed his speech now. It wasn’t always like that. Growing up, he envied Izzie’s relationship with her loving parents. Lilly was an amazing mother, more than compensating for the worthless excuse of a father who took off before Tristan was born. It sucked not having a dad. Then, it sucked more dealing with the long string of his mom’s boyfriends.

Izzie pointed her chin up and let his remark slide. “You sounded like there’s something going on with Lilly just now when I asked.”

“No. I said she was doing great.”

“You lied.”

Damn it! She can still see through my bullshit. He reminded himself she lost the right to that a long time ago.

His turn to shrug. “If you say so.”

“Not buying it.”

“Not selling anything.” They locked gazes and Tristan would be damned if he backed down first. Time stood still. Unable to stare into Izzie’s forest green eyes any longer, he caved in. “She’s sick, alright?”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“It is what it is, some sort of congenital kidney disease. She’s been on dialysis for a couple of years.”

This time there was no mistaking the pain that shadowed Izzie’s face. A blue vein beat wildly on her neck as she combed her black pixie hair with her long fingers. He noticed she didn’t wear a ring on each finger as she used to, but she wore the Claddagh he gave her on prom night. Not so subtle, Ms. Anderson.

That solid wall he built around his heart just got chipped. Damage control was in order, so he reminded himself Izzie’s married name was Mrs. King and resumed scowling.

“Cut the small talk. Why are you here?” Tristan repeated, before Izzie had a chance to say how sad she was for his mom. That she felt bad was clear. He didn’t doubt she was sincere, but Lilly Knight was a major soft spot in his armor and Izzie knew it. “After fifteen years, why now?”

The office furniture had been hand-picked to put visitors at ease, which wasn’t working for Izzie. Watching her fidget with her hands got to his oversensitive nerves. Yet he waited for her next words. When her tight lips remained sealed, he blew out an impatient sigh and draped one leg over the edge of the desk, resting his ass on its top and dangling the foot. He hoped she bought into his unruffled act because the tight leash he kept his self-control under was about to give.

Izzie doubted Tristan’s cool demeanor reflected his real mindset. As a kid, he hid vulnerabilities behind a stoic pretense. Back then, she would call his bluff. Then again, she was his confidant, the one person, besides his mom, Tristan would turn to in times of need. She lost her safe haven status with him that night at Mark King’s house, when she trampled on Tristan’s heart, shattering his trust. She wasn’t sure she could read him all that well anymore.

I hope not because what I see scares the shit out of me. How can I mend this man if I’m the one who broke him?

Now she needed him whole and yet the moment she told him the truth about that night, it would wreck him all over again. Guilt and shame warred inside her, making her feel like she was standing on the edge of the highest cliff looking down. Izzie steeled herself and took the dreaded leap.

She had to start somewhere, so she decided to go with the end. “I’m sorry.”

Tristan’s gaze bored into hers yet she didn’t cower. She prayed he didn’t notice the slight twitch on her upper lip or the vein throbbing in her neck. One perfect eyebrow lifted and his eyes abandoned hers to focus on those exact spots.

Shit!

“That’s it?” He was toying with her. His words sounded flat, but his lips curved in a mocking smirk, his blue eyes gleamed glacial sparks that burned her face and scorched her soul. “After all these years, after the hell you put me through, that’s all you’ve got? You’re sorry?” He gasped and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the pain that filled them ripped her heart out. “You didn’t cheat on a test or cut the checkout line at a grocery store. You fucked my best friend at my sign-up party. Mark was more than a father figure to me. He was my mentor. I got that record deal because of him. He threw that party to celebrate it and because I told him I was going to propose to you.” Izzie felt blood drain from her face. She never knew that. “I had a real shot with my own band. I wasn’t going to be ‘Mr. Izzie Anderson’ anymore. I wouldn’t be in your shadow as you kept me,” he whispered, tight-lipped. Izzie felt the ground vanish from under her feet. Tristan raised his voice when angry, but lowered it when disgusted.

She shook her head, but couldn’t articulate a response. She was overwhelmed. She never knew he felt that way about her success. She found her voice. “That’s not true and you know it. I wouldn’t be anything without your support and your talent. I told you a million times we were partners. I loved you, goddamn it.”

“If you truly loved me, you would’ve been faithful.” His voice dropped as his stare turned colder. He hopped off the table and braced his hands on the armrests of her chair, looming over her, “If you truly loved me, I wouldn’t have sauntered into Mark’s room in the middle of that party to find your lips wrapped around his cock, now, would I?”

Izzie racked her brain for an appropriate comeback and came up empty-handed. Stunned by the emotions his raw words revived, she shrugged. That snapped something inside Tristan. He held her upper arms, squeezing them against her body and pulled her from the chair. Normally, her head reached his chest, but she tiptoed as he pulled her up until his hot breath brushed against her cheeks. Her eyelids dropped to hide herself from the burning rage she recognized in his eyes. Tristan was never violent towards her, but people change. The damage she had caused him ran deeper that she imagined. She braced herself for an assault. It never came.

As fast as he had seized her, Tristan shoved her free. Disoriented, Izzie reopened her eyes to find his back turned to her, hands splayed on the polished table top. He was panting, tension etching the large expanse of his back. In the past, snuggling against Tristan felt like heaven. Every time Izzie needed to hide from the evils of the world, Tristan’s warm chest welcomed her, soothing her pain away. His heartbeats used to be her favorite lullaby. Time and distance played a cruel trick on her, shrinking the true value of those precious moments. Stinging tears pricked the back of her eyes as she grasped the enormity of her loss. She swallowed hard, she wasn’t a wimp. She needed Tristan’s help and failure wasn’t an option.

Izzie squared her shoulders, but his next words killed her newfound courage. “I swear to God, I’ve never laid a finger on a woman. I abhor men who do,” he muttered without turning around to face her. “I refuse to let you steal that away from me as well. Leave.”

She choked at the vivid memories of Lilly Knight’s screams during sleepovers at Tristan’s house. Izzie was four and Tristan was about six. She would sneak into his bedroom when the banging and shouting started at his mom’s, crawling under the covers with him. He would hold her tight without saying a word. That silent reassurance comforted her into sleep. It wasn’t until much later in life that Izzie realized he was quiet because he was as terrified as she was.

The tears Izzie fought before now rolled down her cheeks. Humiliation and shame made them burn. She hesitated, trying to find a way to reason with him. She owed him the truth, at least part of it. She came to Brazil to set things straight.

“Now.” His icy tone spurred her into action.

Dropping the hand she had raised to touch his tense shoulder, Izzie scuttled out of his office, leaving the door ajar. She darted through the crowded restaurant paying no heed to the heads that turned or the curious whispers that followed her. She didn’t care if people recognized her, took pictures or posted them online. She didn’t give a damn about any of that.

I’ve damaged him beyond repair.

She broke her heart when she broke his. Neither would ever be whole again.

She didn’t stop until she reached the town car parked in front of the bistro. Hopping in, she shut the door and rested her head against the tinted window. As the driver pulled away and headed towards her hotel, she looked out of the window, but her eyes glazed over.

She had no tears. She felt empty, defeated.

Tristan waited until the clicking of Izzie’s high heels beating the tiled floor died out before he counted to ten and turned around. The empty room felt like a reflection of his soul. Barren, that was the word to describe it. As if on cue, the phone rang and he grabbed it. “Chez Nous Bistro,” he informed the caller without inflection. Recognizing a longtime supplier’s voice, he switched to a chirpy tone to mask his dreary mood. “What can I do for you?”

He kept the devil-may-care act until closing time. All the while, Tristan felt like he was operating in two distinct dimensions, as if his true bleak self was watching his false lively reflection in a mirror. Eerie. He waited for the last employee to leave, then closed the restaurant and sank into his office chair. He felt drained and in dire need of an outlet for the negative mojo he accumulated in the last couple of hours. He never got into drugs; the closest thing he had to an addiction was music.

He unlocked his cell to call Noah. Even though they were roommates, it’d be wise to give the guy a heads-up about a midnight jam session, in case Noah went to bed earlier than usual. Or he had female company. His finger hovered over a number, then tapped on it.

Izzie appreciated the silent ride through the rain-washed streets, but it did nothing to calm her down. Disconnected scenes and fragmented memories clashed in her head. She shut her eyes and rubbed her forehead as if the gesture could erase years of suffering.

She was clean for about a decade, but she recognized the emotions that could trigger a relapse. She fumbled inside her designer bag to find her phone. Her sponsor’s number was the first one on the call log.

“What’s up, gorgeous?”

“I screwed it up big time. I told you this wouldn’t work.”

Jim Evans was old enough to be her grandfather, which put Izzie at ease around him and was essential for his positive influence. He also didn’t give a rat’s ass about her celebrity status. Having grown up as the troubled son of an unhinged, dysfunctional movie-star couple, Jim had seen Hollywood at its worst. No one surprised him. Nothing shocked him.

He was genuinely fond of Izzie though and became her sponsor when she started in the NA program. He stuck by her side through struggles, small victories and inevitable setbacks. His encouragement helped Izzie move through the twelve steps.

“The ninth kicks your butt every time, kiddo. You’ll manage though. You always do.”

“Making amends is just the starting point with Tristan. I didn’t even get to that.”

“You knew it wasn’t going to be easy.”

“I hoped it wasn’t going to be this hard.”

“Chin up, Izzie. You can do this. Now backtrack and tell me what happened from the beginning.”

She relayed to Jim the details of her meeting with Tristan. Every single embarrassing one. She wouldn’t lie to her sponsor, which would defeat the purpose of having one in the first place. He hung on her words and coached whenever necessary. By the time she opened the door of the presidential suite she was in, Izzie was wrapping up the phone call.

“We might be thousands of miles apart, but I’m just a phone call away.”

“I know and I appreciate it. It means a lot. Good night.”

When Izzie opened the minibar to get water, her eyes glued to the miniature bottles of vodka, coveting the quick fix they could offer. She grabbed a large bottle of Pellegrino and quickly shut the door. Although her downfall had been cocaine and resisting alcohol wasn’t normally a big deal for her, she was feeling way too crappy. Izzie knew better. Being clean meant abstaining from any kind of drugs, booze included. She poured the bubbly water into a tall glass and gulped down most of it. As the cool liquid soothed her dry throat, she gazed out the floor-to-ceiling balcony doors overlooking a dark bay. This was her first time in Florianópolis. When she toured Brazil, she never played here. She was surprised to find a vibrant city sprawled across an island blessed by luxuriant nature, but one of the biggest revelations the city offered her was a Golden Gate-like bridge that connected Florianópolis to the main land. As she finished up the water, she contemplated the structure’s silhouette illuminated by fairy lights as the full moon shed a magical light down the bridge and the ocean.

Breathtaking.

“Hey, still up?” Tristan didn’t bother with a proper greeting before demanding, “Be ready to rock-and-roll all night. I’ll be there in twenty.”

The drive back to his apartment building was faster than Tristan anticipated. Still, he pressed the floor number on the electronic panel of the elevator and leaned on the mirrored back wall watching the numbers increase to fifteen. When the doors opened, he strolled out of the elevator, dragged his feet to the apartment and inhaled deeply before pressing the bell as he exhaled.

He whistled and gave Bruna a once-over when she opened the door wide. “Babe, you know how to greet a man.”

Clad in sheer lacy lingerie, the voluptuous dark-haired beauty was precisely what he needed to erase the day from hell he had. That’s what Tristan told himself as he crowded her, plastering Bruna against the wall. He swung the door shut with his foot and pinned her generous curves with his lower body as he descended to claim her purple painted lips. Faint memories of other heart-shaped lips covered in plum color lipstick threatened to sneak up on him, but he shoved them to the back of his mind as he deepened his assault on Bruna’s mouth and wrapped her legs around his waist.

Chapter 3

Tristan eased up the pressure on Bruna’s soft lips when her whimpers reached his mind and he realized he was pushing her too hard against the wall as well. To his surprise, she pulled his head down and whispered, “Don’t stop.”

He slanted his mouth as his teeth pulled her full lower lip and he moved the party to the couch. Bruna opened his shirt as she straddled him. She knitted her eyebrows, but before she could say a word, Tristan latched on her nipple, moistening the fabric as he sucked. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to forget. Bruna’s long fingers traced a path from his chin to the waist of his pants and toyed with the buckle of his belt. He thrust up to give her access and she deftly unzipped him and reached in for his cock. As their lips locked again, she pumped his shaft trying to bring it to life. No such luck.

He fought a bitter taste in his mouth that burned his throat as remorse clawed its way up from the pit of his stomach. He held Bruna’s hand and shook his head when her downcast eyes flew up to stare into his. “Sorry, not gonna happen.”

“That’s okay, T. It happens, particularly in my personal experience. It’s not your fault.”

He gave himself a mental slap on the forehead. “No, this is not on you. Don’t go there. This is all me.”

Climbing off his lap and plopping down on the couch beside him, Bruna closed the burgundy satin kimono and crossed her arms under her breasts. “Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Rubbing the back of his neck, Tristan wrestled his inner demons to come up with a truthful enough reply that wouldn’t come across as snarky or needy. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he didn’t want Bruna’s pity. “Believe me, I’ve had the worst day today. My selfish mistake was to think a couple of sweaty rounds with you would make things better.” He raised a hand when her eyes shone with something akin to sympathy and she opened her mouth. “No, don’t feel sorry for me. I’m an ass for coming here in the state I’m in.” He buttoned the rumpled shirt and zipped up the pants, then shot his head up when he heard Bruna’s chuckle.

She wasn’t amused. “Women love when men tell us what we think or feel, you know.”

Second mental slap landed on Tristan’s large head. “See? I shouldn’t have come. I’m just digging myself a bigger hole here.” He held her gaze for a moment before adding. “I am a jerk, but I shouldn’t be a jerk with you. I’m sorry. You don’t deserve me dumping my shit on you.”

Bruna reached out and clasped his wrist when he stood to leave. “Not denying the jerk comment, but you’ve been going through a lot of shit lately with the restaurant and the bad investments and all,” she offered him an out. “However, you’re not you tonight. What’s going on?”

Although tempted to disencumber the load on his chest, Tristan smiled and shook his head. “Not fair. Too much shit, way too damn old. I don’t have the right to drag you down this rabbit hole.”

“I’m here for you, for more than just a quick fuck, you know.”

Tristan did. Bruna helped him through some serious shit last year, when Lilly’s dialysis got more frequent and her health deteriorated. Dr. Bruna Cordeiro’s fame as a brilliant neurosurgeon opened more doors than Tristan’s bank account could when he decided to transfer Lilly from the hospital to a top-notch nursing home under the supervision of the best kidney specialist in the country.

“I do. All the more reason not to throw you into this mess.”

“I won’t twist your arm, man. I respect your privacy. It’s just that I figured you don’t have a friend to talk to, so I offered.”

He shrugged. “Noah is a good friend, the best, actually.”

“So why aren’t you in your apartment?”

“I called. He’s got company,” Tristan admitted the truth to himself as much as to Bruna and collapsed on the couch. “It’s just that this is so fucked up, I don’t even know where to start.”

“Beginnings tend to be a safe bet.”

“Well, that would be back when I was a kid. Mom made up for me not having a father around with both love and material things, but I was a difficult kid, always picking fights, except when Izzie was around. She made me want to be a better person.”

“You never mentioned Izzie. Is she your sister?”

Tristan checked Bruna’s expression for signs of jealousy, but found only interest, so he stated, “Izzie Anderson,” and waited for the usual hysterical reaction. It never came.

“She’s a singer.”

He was amazed. “That sounds more like a question.”

“Because I’m not sure, okay?”

He reached out and ran a thumb over her cheek, a reluctant smile touching his lips. “I love the fact you aren’t.” He smoothed the crease that formed between her eyebrows. “Because your opinion won’t be biased by what you read in the media.”

“Between going to med school, completing residency and starting my practice, I didn’t get a life ten years ago.”

“Long story short, Izzie and I were best friends growing up, she became a worldwide rock star at fifteen, we started dating in Westlake High, I fell head over heels in love with her at nineteen and she got pregnant with my friend and mentor’s child at twenty-three when I was about to propose to her. I moved to Brazil and never saw her again.”

“Until today. Did she go to Chez Nous by chance?”

Tristan wasn’t surprised at Bruna’s insightful conclusion. “Apparently, she came to apologize, fifteen fucking years too late.”

“Why now?”

“That I don’t know, she didn’t say when I asked.”

Bruna seemed to assess the situation as she chewed her lower lip and stared at him. “I’m sure your docked version left out vital pieces of information, so I might not be able to fully understand what’s going on, but I’d say something major happened. I mean, one doesn’t take a twelve-hour flight to another country just to apologize for something that happened over a decade ago.”

Tristan flirted with disclosing the whole story. Maybe Bruna would help him see something he missed. She was sensitive and smart, but he decided to discard the concept with a shrug. “Whatever it is, I don’t care. There’s been some speculation going around that she’ll announce her retirement soon.”

“Is she forty like you? So young.”

“Thirty-eight.”

“You sure that’s why?”

“Not really. I don’t follow her career, you know, but people talk and newspaper headlines get posted everywhere. I didn’t verify the rumors though.”

“Considering she’s retiring, why would she come all the way here to talk to you? I don’t see the connection.”

“Me neither, not a direct one anyway. Maybe she’s planning a farewell album and wants to convince me to contribute to it.”

“I’ve heard you playing with Noah and the boys. You’re good, but I’m pretty sure she can pick another guitar player that she hasn’t screwed over.”

“Good point, but I meant write a song,” he replied. When she raised an eyebrow at the comment, he added. “I wrote most of the lyrics for Izzie’s songs up until we broke up. She collected hits and awards for those. She’s recorded a couple of number one songs after that, but they were few and far between.”

“And you think she’d be so brazen as to come after you for that?”

“I don’t know what to think,” he admitted, burying his face in his hands after digging his elbows on his knees. “Nothing adds up.”

He felt Bruna’s fingers through his hair and twisted his neck to look up at her, still resting his face on his hands. Her smile beamed and she declared, “You still love her.” She conceded when he grunted in response. “I’ll rephrase it. You still feel something for her. Don’t try to convince me otherwise, the evidence speaks for itself. You’re heartbroken. You still sound hurt talking about her, after all this time. It wouldn’t cut so deep if you didn’t still have feelings.”

He opened his mouth to refute the idea, then shut it. Bruna was a mystery wrapped in an enigma. A successful neurosurgeon, a woman insecure about her appearance and an insightful fuck buddy. Her reasoning was sound, except she was wrong. “You’re right, you don’t fully understand what’s going on because you don’t have all details. It’s too late and I’m too tired to go there now though.” He grazed her lips as he stood to leave. “Thanks for listening and trying to help. You’re a good friend.”

“Any time.”

Nodding, Tristan walked out the door and closed it behind him, then climbed the stairs to his floor. The apartment was quiet, Noah’s bedroom door was closed, for which Tristan said a silent prayer because his roommate tended to forget to do that even when he had company. Oh, the scenes Tristan had witnessed without intending to. Not pretty.

Even less appealing was the scenario Bruna’s words painted in his mind as he mulled them over and threw his clothes in the hamper. A quick shower to get rid of the day, then he went to bed.

Sleep eluded Tristan and the past rushed back, flooding his head with memories he spent years trying to erase. He tossed and turned, checking the alarm clock on the nightstand every five minutes, until he drifted into sleep sometime around five in the morning.

Different from other friends-to-lovers couples he knew, Tristan never doubted Izzie was the one, so he didn’t lie to himself trying to deny his feelings. He wanted her and waited for her to be ready. That made for an awkward and unsatisfying first time. Prom night’s expectations and zero experience on both parts resulted in a memorable experience for all the wrong reasons. He did book a romantic bed and breakfast in Santa Barbara and asked them to decorate the suite with scented candles and red rose petals. He did give Izzie a Claddagh ring and promised to be by her side forever. Still, the sexual part of the evening was over way too soon, in his opinion. Later, both confessed to being self-conscious and disappointed.

Practice makes perfect, so they practiced. A lot. Until they became experts in making love. And music. Tristan would wake up in the middle of the night and watch Izzie sleep on the pillow beside him. He would tuck her hair behind her ear, so he could have an unobstructed view of her sweet face. When only watching wasn’t enough, he would graze her lips with his fingertips. Just a feathery touch so he wouldn’t wake her up. Leaving her lips, his fingers would draw a slow path downward, faintly caressing Izzie and stoking his fire as her skin came alive with goosebumps. Somewhere in her dreams, she still reacted to him and that idea was inebriating. He would stop his fingers short of her sex and replace them with his lips, only he would trace the downward trail again beginning with her heart-shaped mouth. Tristan would shower open-mouthed kisses on her, lingering on the hollow of her throat, the underside of her breasts, then her belly button and her sex. By then, his desire would have taken over and he would latch onto her clit and suck it until Izzie’s round thighs trembled and her fingers clawed through his hair. Izzie would moan, so he would suck harder and add a finger or two to take her over the edge. When her sighs escalated to sobs as her flesh quivered around his tongue and digits and the first orgasm hit her, Tristan would sit up, gathering her into his arms and onto his lap, thrusting his cock deep inside her body and Izzie’s sex would grip him as if it would never let him go. After her second or third big O, Tristan would explode inside her warmth and Izzie would whisper in his ear that his mouth on her was the best wake-up call a woman could dream of.

The alarm clock went off and Tristan snoozed it. After a moment, he opened one eye to find out he had turned off the alarm and slept for another hour, but the real embarrassment came when he realized he was sporting a morning wood like he hadn’t in years.

Snagging the last spot in the covered structure, Tristan killed the engine of his M4 GTS and climbed out of it. As much as he loved Lilly, visiting his mom at the nursing home depressed him every time. As he emerged from the parking building, he took in the peaceful gardens with the extensive grassed area, trickling fountains and colorful flowers dotting the beautiful landscape design. In the distance he spotted the orchard, a favorite with seniors and visitors alike, because it offered an inviting shade to escape the scorching tropical sun. Surprised not to locate Lilly there, Tristan steered towards the main building, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. He let out a sigh of relief when he found his mom sitting in the common area.

“Hey, hon,” Lilly grinned as he kissed her cheek. “Lose the frown, Tristan Knight. A hundred fifteen is way too hot, even for a California girl, with the humidity we’ve got here.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“Don’t need to. I’m your mother.” She winked, then coughed.

“That cough doesn’t sound good.” Tristan searched around for a staff member, when the whooping got Lilly out of breath.

She gripped his wrist at the same time as she clutched her flattened hand to her chest as if to stop the wheeze. “It’s okay. There’s nothing they can do about it.”

Tristan was aware dialysis increased the risk of infections, so a simple cold could turn into something nasty, but he didn’t want to alarm Lilly. “If you say so,” he grumbled. Not wanting to alarm her didn’t mean he agreed with the situation.

“It’s just a cough, silly. Stop worrying and sit down so we can talk.” She patted the cushion beside her on the couch. “You’re giving me a neck cramp.”

It was like Lilly was using her Super Mom powers to turn him into an eight-year-old again and he wondered how moms did that. Surveying her one last time to make sure she didn’t need medical attention, he disregarded the comfortable-looking armchair facing the couch and sat beside Lilly. The subdued yellow upholstery harmonized with the elegant old-Europe décor of the spacious room, where half a dozen similar couches, set up in cozy semi-circles with matching chairs, offered privacy and comfort. He slung an arm around her shoulders and tucked Lilly against his chest. They didn’t talk and he savored the warm sensation of hugging his mom. He was a hugger and wasn’t ashamed of that. At least, not around Lilly.

“It’s beautiful in here. I like it,” he observed and she simply nodded. Apparently, his mom was enjoying the quiet moment with her only son.

The large windows provided healthy natural light and he admired the kaleidoscopic patterns that a beam painted on the floor and walls as it bounced off a Tiffany lamp on one of the side tables. He was trying his damnedest to accept Lilly’s deteriorating health, which wasn’t the Brazilian doctors’ fault. At all. When she was diagnosed, Tristan went back to the United States where she lived. The doctors told him it was unlikely she would survive more than five years. He convinced her to come live in Brazil, where it would be easier to keep an eye on her. That was ten years ago.

For most of her life, Lilly partied hard, drinking anything with an alcohol content of fifteen percent or higher and experimenting with different drugs, both legal and not so legal. He had a pretty tame life compared to his mom’s. Now, her sixty-two-year-old abused system was threatening to shut down. He was terrified.

“What’s eating you, boy?” She leaned her head on his shoulder, but didn’t look up. Not necessary. She knew him too well.

Bullshitting her wouldn’t do, so he went for a minor reason for his worries. “I lost a boatload of money on those stocks I bought a couple of years ago and haven’t recouped the investment I put in when we opened Chez Nous.”

“That’s a steaming pile of crap if I’ve ever seen one. I’m sick, but I haven’t lost my marbles.” Although her words were harsh, he knew where she was coming from. Lilly had a unique way of showing affection. “You know damn well the stock market stabilized and is climbing. As for the restaurant, Nelson hired a fucking Michelin starred chef and breathes down poor Herve’s neck to make sure he keeps those stars intact. Noah is the best PR person I’ve ever met. Gosh, his dates alone would guarantee a steady income to the restaurant.”

He chuckled. “True.”

“You bust your ass to make sure all works smoothly. Last time I checked, Chez Nous was quite a smash. What gives?”

Not ready to admit his most recent concerns, Tristan stayed on a safer topic. “Yes, the bistro is doing well, but it’s a long way from repaying my initial investment, which means no profits. We spent more than we planned on that dirt road linking Armação beach to Matadeiro. Otherwise, people wouldn’t have easy access to our waterfront restaurant.”

He took a deep breath as he mulled his finances over. The mounting medical bills drained his bank account faster than the dwindling royalty paychecks coming in to replenish it. When he wrote lyrics for Izzie, other artists would also record his songs. After he left America, some continued to seek him out, but that died out eventually.

“Okay, I’m not exactly bankrupt, but I’m not twenty anymore either. I’ve got responsibilities.”

“Which weigh on your mind. I get that.” She framed his face and forced him to stare into her eyes, same exact color as his. “Still, you’re hiding something. Don’t roll your eyes on me, mister.”

“What am I going to do with you? You’re worse than a dog with a bone,” he snorted.

“Spill it.”

“Izzie is in town.”

“She is? I want to see her. Bring her here.”

“That’s it? You sure you didn’t lose your marbles?” He had a hard time keeping his tone light as his insides began to boil. He never quarreled with his mother and he wouldn’t start today over Izzie Anderson. Still, he couldn’t believe Lilly was so nonchalant.

She shrugged. “I miss her. She’s a good person. She was good for you.”

That almost did it, but Tristan bit his tongue. “Mom, you’re not senile, so don’t bullshit me. You remember quite well what happened. She screwed me over six ways to Sunday. She used to be a great person, I’ll give you that. I fell in love with her, didn’t I? You don’t understand it, though. Showbiz changed Izzie. She’s not the same person we used to know.”

“T, you won’t enjoy hearing this, but I’ll say it anyway. You. Are. Wrong. In my opinion, you should’ve gone after Izzie when she dumped that lowlife husband of hers.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

“Not in the least. I get that you both didn’t know better fifteen years ago. I mean, you were hurt and she was using. Besides, you were too young. That combination made for dreadful decisions on either part. When I read somewhere that she got her act together, I hoped she would come after you. Or that you would get your head out of your ass and go after her.” She sighed. “It took her longer than I expected, but she came to your door. Now, the ball is in your court. Don’t let me down.”

He gawked at his mother, unable to decide where he should start pointing out the mistakes in her judgment. “Mom, I love you, but you don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about,” he admonished her, kissing her hands as he folded them inside his own. “That Izzie we knew and loved doesn’t exist anymore.” That thought saddened Tristan.

“I beg to differ.” Izzie’s soft rebuttal floated from somewhere behind the couch. Her even tone did nothing to appease his heartbeats as the vital organ thudded against his ribcage.

He swirled around to face Izzie. “How the hell did you find my mom?”

“I looked her up. Elizabeth Knight isn’t a popular name in Brazil and I found only one in the Florianópolis metropolitan area.” she shrugged.

Words escaped him, partially because he was caught off-guard, in part because of the ideas his mom and Bruna sowed in his head, but mainly because the X-rated scenes that populated his dreams throughout the previous night now came back to haunt him. He battled the images, but it was an epic failure since all it took to set his blood on fire was a sweep of his eyes over Izzie’s curvy figure. Wearing a floral knee-length sundress whose waist was accented by a thin brown leather belt, she looked stunning. Almost as irreproachable as she once was.

Dragging his stare away, he set aside the many ways he would love to bunch the ample skirt up and fill his hands with what’s hidden beneath it or how the silken material would feel against his naked skin as Izzie rode his cock.

He gave himself a mental shake and turned to Lilly. “I guess your wish just came true. She’s come to see you.” He kissed his mother’s hollowed cheek before he stood to leave. “Gotta go.”

He scuttled away and, if he were to be honest, rushed to escape Bruna’s and his mom’s words as they sounded again inside his head. His efforts were useless as the words haunted him. He refused to believe he still had feelings for Izzie or that Izzie could go back to being the free-spirited and kind woman she used to be. The one he fell in love with.

“No way!” He muttered as he backed out of the parking space, maneuvering towards the exit.

“I missed you, munchkin.” Lilly reached out her hands and Izzie squeezed them before enveloping the older woman in a tight embrace.

“It’s been too long, Auntie Lil.”

“I know you’ve been to hell and back. Tell me how you are now though.”

Izzie smiled, but couldn’t keep a weary sigh in as she sagged on the spot Tristan vacated. “Like I’ve been to hell and back. I’m trying to do the right thing, but he won’t give me the time of day.”

Lilly’s expression was kind when she reminded Izzie. “Ever thought you might’ve waited too long?”

Izzie cast her eyes on the hands she wriggled on her lap. Through the years, she got in touch with Lilly on a couple of occasions. Ten years ago, when her mom got killed in a home invasion. Then again, five years later, when her dad passed after a short battle with lung cancer. As much as he loved Izzie and Arthur, his only grandson, her dad never recovered from her mom’s brutal death. Equally painful was her only personal visit with Lilly, not long before she moved to Brazil.

“When I first started in the NA program, you were the first person I contacted for the ninth step. I wasn’t ready to make amends with Tristan. You were the next best thing.”

“Are you ready now?”

“I thought I was. He made me doubt it yesterday, but I won’t give up.”

“I never told him we talked, you know. He wasn’t ready to hear about it, anyway. Then again, it’s not like you confided any secrets to me.”

Izzie studied Lilly’s gaze and saw compassion, no judgment. “You’ve always trusted me, even though I caused Tristan so much heartache and never explained myself to you. I’m not sure I’d do the same if a girlfriend did that to Arthur.”

Lilly stroked the back of Izzie’s hand. “I don’t know how much you heard, but I told Tristan the two of you were too young and immature to make sound decisions.”

“You remember Mark King?”

“Sleazy excuse of a man. Yeah, I remember him. Never trusted the guy, but Tristan put him on a pedestal. The man couldn’t do any wrong. Tristan thought Mark had the rocker attitude he wanted to emulate. I tried to warn him, but he didn’t listen to me.”

Izzie nodded. “All that, but he also had a violent temper and hung out with a vicious crowd.”

“The Crips’ drug dealers? I thanked my stars that was the one thing Tristan did not try to copy.”

“That didn’t work that well for me, although I really just dived into the drugs after Tristan left me. I had a serious case of death wish even after I learned I was pregnant with Arthur.”

“Wait a second. You’re telling me you regretted choosing Mark over Tristan, so you started on drugs? Is that it?”

“I’m saying I did not choose Mark. At all. Period.”

Lilly’s slack-jawed expression gave Izzie pause. She waited for the older woman to process the information she just dumped on her. “What the fuck, girl?”

Her grin spreading across her face, Izzie replied, “There’s so much I need to say to you. Let me backtrack to that night Tristan walked in on me and Mark and thought we were having an affair.”

Chapter 4

Blowing out air a couple of times, Izzie rang the doorbell. She swallowed hard to make sure her heart wouldn’t climb out of her chest when the faint thud of barefoot steps on a wooden floor got closer. She stopped breathing when Tristan yanked the door open and glared at her. “I wasn’t going to open it, but figured if you went to the trouble of convincing my mom to give you the access code to the penthouse elevator, you might even camp outside the door or something.” He blocked the way, which forced Izzie to remain in the hall.

Craning her neck to make up for their considerable difference in height and accepting the challenge in his defiant stare, she countered, “I didn’t twist her arm to get it. Truth is, Lil volunteered the info when I mentioned her blockhead of a son wasn’t picking up my calls or returning my messages. It’s been over two weeks, dude. Can we please act like the adults that we are?”

An angry flare lit up his blue eyes, then was gone. His animosity deflated, it left Izzie with an odd taste in her mouth. Not a bad one, though. She came prepared to wrestle the proverbial bull by its horns and the sudden change in Tristan’s mood was as unexpected as it was welcomed. Half the butterflies in her stomach dropped dead. The others were alive and well and making her queasy each time her eyes swept over his broad bare chest, which Izzie tried her best to ignore. Not an easy task, as his taut nipples were right in her line of sight.

Tristan twisted his towering frame to the left and gestured for her to step in. As she found her way to the seating area, his deep voice followed close behind her. “Honestly, I’m just tired of running around in circles or trying to convince myself you’ll drop the bone.” His tone, drab. Izzie would take dull over surly anytime.

Glancing around the spacious room, she rapidly identified which objects belonged to Tristan and which were Noah’s, since the former tended to become a neat freak when stressed. As if proving her point, Tristan rearranged a pair of brocade cushions three times before sitting on a chair facing the couch, where Izzie perched. Too tense to enjoy a magnificent view of the shimmering waters of the North Bay, or Baía Norte as the locals called it, Izzie blurted. “Okay, I’ll cut to the chase. You’re right, I’m not going anywhere until you hear me out. I came down here because I need your help, but first I owe you the truth. I lied to you.”

That piqued his interest. “You mean other than before I caught you and Mark?” His eyes searched her face, but he didn’t offer anything other than an arched eyebrow.

“After that.”

He blew out a heavy breath. “Izzie, I mean it. I’m tired. I don’t want to play your little guessing games. They were annoying when we were young, they’re pointless now. What are you saying?”

He was right. Again. Every time she was insecure, she tended to stall and that drove people crazy. They thought she did it on purpose, the telling stories in installments thing she did. Truth of the matter was that, most of the time, she was too nervous. Like right now. The moment she dreaded and anticipated in equal parts facing her, Izzie eyed Tristan as she smoothed nonexistent wrinkles on her khakis. “I let you believe I was having an affair with Mark. I was not.”

He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. When he stared into her eyes again, she read the struggle he was going through to keep his feelings in check. “That night at the party, when I caught you both having sex, that wasn’t the first clue I got. It was just the undeniable one. The last straw that broke me. For months before that, I would walk into a room and see Mark’s arm slung around your neck or his hands touching your face, your waist or whatever. And every time I asked, you said nothing was going on, but you’d get antsy. Still I didn’t suspect anything because I thought you loved me.”

“I did.” She noticed his subtle flinching movement, but didn’t dwell on it or she’d lose focus. “And that’s why I didn’t tell you about Mark’s inappropriate behavior, at first. You worshiped the man and I was naïve to believe I could handle him, until it was too late. I didn’t sleep with him before that party.”

Tristan rubbed his neck then his face. “Yeah, you said so then and I believed you. Even though I caught you gagging on his dick, I believed you and forgave you. I stayed and tried to make it work, didn’t I? And how did you repay my trust?” His words were harsh, but his tone remained flat. Izzie felt wretched remembering what he went through because of her. “A couple of months later, you ripped my heart out again saying you were pregnant with his baby and you were leaving me. What am I missing? Which part was a lie?”

“Most of it. All of it. I didn’t sleep with Mark before or at that party.” She raised her hands to cut off Tristan’s rebuttal, then joined them in a steeple in front of her face and pleaded with him. “Hear me out. In the beginning, I thought Mark was just being Mark, you know. I mean, the man chased anything in a skirt, but I believed he cared for you, respected you too much to mean anything with his stupid comments and wandering hands. I took it all as a lame joke. Often, he’d say something to me or hug me in front of other women and I thought he was trying to impress them. Remember how wasted he was all the time back then?”

“He hung out with those guys from the Crips in Los Angeles.”

“Exactly. They were a vicious crowd, into heavy drugs and guns and stuff.”

“Mark would pick fights in between concerts. We had to bail him out a couple of times or he wouldn’t make it to the next gig.”

Izzie didn’t miss those days. She nodded and resumed her story. “When we arrived at the party, Mark pulled me aside and apologized. He said he had been an ass, that you were like a little brother to him and that he’d never jeopardize your friendship. He said that night was yours and that we should celebrate your future success.”

Tristan expression seemed haunted. “Except for the apologies, that was pretty much what he said to me too. I thought he was happy for me.”

“Did he offer you champagne to toast your bright future?” Unable to leave out the sarcasm, although directed at herself, not Tristan, she was relieved he didn’t pick up on it.

“Nope.”

“He handed me a flute of bubblies and I emptied it with one swig. I was all for celebrating your contract. I was thrilled for you. After I bottomed up the drink he gave me, I went looking for you and found you in a heated discussion about race cars with Noah.”

Tristan looked nostalgic and a reluctant smile turned the corner of his lips up. “You hated racing with a passion.”

“Still do. Anyway, I mingled, talked to friends and lost track of time. At some point, I felt lightheaded and Mark just turned up out of nowhere. He snaked his arm around my waist before I passed out.”

“Now, wait a second. Izzie Anderson passes out in a crowded room and nobody says anything? I was there and I’m sure I would’ve noticed the commotion.”

Without thinking, Izzie reached out and clasped his wrist for emphasis. Tristan didn’t snatch it back, so she held on to it. He had always been her anchor and she needed to feel grounded now, if she had ever needed support. “It felt like fainting to me because the next thing I remember I was sitting on the edge of a bed while Mark opened my top. He made me kneel in front of him. I swear I tried to stop him, but my arms and hands didn’t obey me.”

The mix of anger and anguish in Tristan’s eyes threatened to undo Izzie’s resolve. He muttered through clenched teeth, “Mark slipped roofies in your drink?” His hand gripped hers, knuckles turned white, but Izzie paid no heed.

She nodded, waiting for his outburst. It never came.

Tristan whispered, “Mark King drugged and raped you. He threw a party for me, saying he wanted to celebrate my signing with Tarmac Records, then spiked your drink and dragged you up to his bedroom. His buddy Reg came up to me and said Mark wanted to give me some pointers before my meeting with the execs, so I went looking for him.”

He didn’t need to shut his eyes to revisit what came next that night. The image of a lingerie-clad Izzie blowing Mark would forever be branded in his mind. He couldn’t unsee it. Except now, the scene played out in his head under a different light. What he once believed to be exhilaration on her part just turned out to be stupor.

The one thing that had triggered his reaction that night had been Izzie’s eyes. Instead of pouncing on Mark for suspecting him of harassing Izzie, Tristan had frozen at the door when he noticed her eyes glazed over. That happened when he aroused her, so he connected that flimsy piece of evidence with the countless incidents of Mark touching Izzie that he witnessed before. He misread the situation.

He was wrong.

Dead wrong.

Unforgivably wrong.

“Instead of doing something, like punching him or wrestling you away from him, I turned and fled the house.”

She nodded, but didn’t say anything, as if she understood he was thinking out loud.

He went on. “I thought you wanted to be with him. All these years, I thought you chose Mark over me, but you had no choice that night.”

Tristan thought his head would explode, just as his heart would burst out of his chest. Too many conflicting emotions jumbled up inside. He attempted to sort them out, but his brain stalled.

“I feel like I should yell or cuss or both. I’m numb, though.” That wasn’t entirely true. Through the haze that fogged his mind, one idea stood out like a beacon. Would he dare hope? His next words bypassed his brain and came out of his mouth, unfettered. “You didn’t betray me.”

“I did not.”

“Why did you let me believe you did?”

Izzie knelt between his knees and framed his face in her warm hands. In his addled state, Tristan just stared into her forest green eyes. “What would you have done if I had told you all this back then?”

“Killed the motherfucker.”

“Exactly. Then, you’d either be in prison or you would have been killed by Mark’s buddies from the Crips. Plus, I was ashamed. I felt dirty. I blamed myself for what happened at that party.”

He covered her hands, pressing them against his face. He closed his eyes to better enjoy the warmth that radiated from her as it penetrated his numbness, nudging it away. He pulled her hands from his cheeks, laced their fingers together and rested the back of her hands on his thighs. Then, he pinned her with his gaze and asserted, “I wish I knew this then, so I could’ve told you there was no reason to feel dirty or ashamed. You did nothing wrong. I don’t believe what-ifs will get us anywhere, but I’ve got to say this. Had I had a chance to make the bastard die a slow, excruciating death, I would’ve happily taken it.”

Her upper lip quivered as if she was fighting a smile. “You’re saying I was right?”

“I guess I’m saying we’ll never know.” He shrugged. “We can’t change the past, but I still haven’t wrapped my head around what happened after the party. I get that he forced you, but that doesn’t change the fact you left me. For Mark. Months after that night. How could you do that after he treated you that way?”

Her cheeks beamed red and she framed Tristan’s face again, prodding his stare as if she was trying to reach his soul. With a slight sigh, she blurted, “He blackmailed me. Mark picked up on the fact I never told you what he did that night. One day he cornered me at the studio. We stayed late, alone, mixing a track. He said he knew I was terrified at the possibility you’d kill him, if I told you the truth.” He knew her too well to recognize she burst out the story before she got cold feet.

“You’re saying he forced you to sleep with him, so he wouldn’t tell me that he was fucking you? That doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t tell me and risk getting his face smashed in.”

“That was my response to him, then I told him to fuck off.”

Tristan threw his hands up. “You’ve totally lost me here. How did he blackmail you, if that didn’t work?”

“That last tour, you didn’t come with us in the beginning because you were putting together the band, remember?”

“Yeah, Noah and I were selecting.”

“Exactly. Every morning, I’d be too late to come down for breakfast or I wouldn’t eat at all. Most of the time, I looked ashen. Mark noticed I was pregnant before I did and he knew he’d never break us up if you learned we were having a baby, so he played his last hand. He said he’d have his Crips buddies kill you if I didn’t dump you for him.”

A loud buzz rang inside Tristan’s head and muffled Izzie’s voice. Stuck in that one piece of information that threw his life certainties upside down, his brain didn’t process her final words. Feeling like he should yell at the top of his lungs, he was surprised as he whispered, “What the fuck, Izzie? You’re saying Arthur is mine?”

She nodded and his world crumpled.

It killed her inside to see the pain in Tristan’s face. He had all the right to hate her, to kick her out of the apartment, to make a scene. Yet he looked stunned, broken. She needed him whole and she was breaking him all over again. It shattered her heart as well. She waited too long and now she could only pray he’d understand her reasons.

“Fuck, Izzie. I need time to process this shit. You can’t dump this on me like that. I mean, I’ve got a son and you never told me. You knew how bad I wanted a family, how much I suffered growing up without a dad. I promised I’d never do that to a kid, but you didn’t give me a chance or a say in the matter.”

“I can’t undo what I did or erase the pain I caused. I would if I could, but I hope you see why I did what I did. Yes, I was young and stupid, but I was protecting you. I didn’t care what happened to me, as long as you were alive. I couldn’t live if they killed you.”

He shook his head and his face was blank as if he was in a daze. “Does Arthur know about me?”

“Not until recently.”

“What changed?” She could almost hear the gears in his head as he clued in. “Whatever happened to make you change your mind and tell him about me, that’s also the reason you came down here, isn’t it?”

She nodded and waited for the rest she knew was coming. She knew that face, the one Tristan wore when he was in deep concentration.

He rambled, “You married Mark, so I guess his blackmailing worked. You stayed together for what, five years? It’s a long time to stay in a marriage based on lack of trust. Then again, you were into heavy drugs, so I guess it didn’t really matter. Suddenly, you decided to get your act together. You got clean and dumped Mark. You could’ve come clean with me back then. Why didn’t you?”

“I was a wreck back then. Arthur’s diagnosis was my wake-up call. He needed me sober, so I checked myself into a rehab facility.”

“What diagnosis?”

“He was born with mild kidney dysplasia, which is a genetic or acquired condition. In his case it’s the latter, due to my drug abuse during pregnancy.” She stopped his words with her raised hand. “There’s nothing you can say that’d make me feel worse than I already do. I’m to blame for his disease.”

“I wasn’t about to say anything like that. I was merely going to point out that my mom has kidney failure.”

“Oh, it’s just that all these years, I’ve been beating myself up because Arthur is paying for my sins, so I thought you’d blame me.” When Tristan shook his head, she added, “In those first years, the doctors monitored Arthur’s condition, which was fine, but the guilt made me get deeper into drugs, spiraling into heavier ones. Mark was glad to provide them and enjoy them with me until Arthur’s health worsened. That’s when I went into rehab and worked hard to vanquish the demons to become the mother he needed. When I got clean, I realized I didn’t need Mark or anyone else in my life who would bring me down, so I kicked him out.”

“Still, you didn’t come clean with me.”

She fumbled with her hands, but didn’t cast her eyes down. “In the beginning, I concentrated on Arthur. When I started going to NA meetings, my sponsor advised me to strengthen myself before facing you because your reaction could trigger a serious relapse. In the meantime, Mark’s drug problems got worse and he ran out of money. He went back to blackmailing me, only then he wanted money in exchange for not telling the press about Arthur’s real father. I was focused on my son’s health and getting myself back on track. I didn’t want to deal with Mark, I guess. I don’t know. It just seemed easier paying his hush money and getting on with life.”

Silence filled the space between them as Tristan stared at her. He opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before asking, “What did the doctors say about Arthur back then?”

“His kidneys began to shut down and the doctors put him on dialysis.”

“That’s what happened to mom. It worked for a while until it didn’t. Now, they say there’s little else they can do for her. Her body is slowly shutting down.”

Izzie squeezed Tristan’s hand. “Arthur’s been on dialysis for about ten years, but recently the prognosis got grim. The doctors say he might need a transplant soon. They haven’t been able to find a compatible donor due to his rare blood type. The same as yours, Tristan.”

“He’s type O negative? Oh, God. That means he can only get blood from another typo O negative.”

“Same goes for a kidney.”

Chapter 5

A week passed since Izzie obliterated his known world. All he believed true turned out false and Tristan’s head was still reeling from the implications. He didn’t hate her as he used to, but he couldn’t say he trusted her either. That part would take a long time, and a lot of reassuring evidence, to be mended. His heart, on the other hand, seemed more resilient.

After agreeing to donate a kidney to Arthur, a marathon of laboratory tests and doctor’s appointments followed, turning the remaining of Tristan’s normal life on its head. Noah and Nelson agreed he should take time off from the restaurant to concentrate on what needed to be done. The tests began in Brazil and would continue in the United States, where Arthur waited for the results. For now, the doctors focused on assessing if Tristan would be a compatible donor. Although blood type was a key element, other things must be considered, such as ECG, urine, glucose tolerance and blood tests, to name a few. The idea was to make sure Tristan’s physical and psychological health were up to par for a transplant procedure, which is taxing enough under normal circumstances. In his case, it would be strenuous to say the least.

He met with Izzie every day as they went to appointments or clinics to run his tests, but none of those took a stronger toll on Tristan than their visits with the shrink. Years of stuffing his demons in a closet began to come back to bite his ass. He was an expert in avoidance, not confrontation. Apparently, he couldn’t move on with his life without some spring cleaning, or so Dr. Tucci said. If it weren’t for the mosaic of certificates on the guy’s wall, Tristan would call him a charlatan. He did no such thing. Instead, he started revisiting choices and rethinking grudges.

He stopped by Bruna’s apartment one day to apologize for vanishing without an explanation. She said she was glad he was doing that for his son and she wasn’t surprised he disappeared like he did. She reminded him they never were a couple in the real sense of the word and said she expected him to try to patch things up with Izzie. He didn’t bother to state that he wasn’t getting back with Izzie, he was only getting ready for the surgery.

Could it be that Bruna, his mom and Dr. Tucci were right? Was he holding on to old grudges for fear of what the future might bring? He always thought he was living in hell for the past fifteen years, but they made it look like he was snug inside his little comfort zone, refusing to venture out of it. Was he?

Truth was, every time he met Izzie in the last days, Tristan noticed his numbness got lighter as the fortress of ice he had built around his heart melted an inch or so. He even had the chance to talk to Arthur a few times when Izzie Skyped with him. He appeared to be taking the ordeal quite well for somebody so young. Tristan had to admit to himself that Izzie did a very good job on her own. Each day, it seemed like he felt he was getting closer to her. Like today, for instance. They got out at around six in the morning, spent the day in a clinic running multiple tests and got back to her hotel at six in the evening.

When he parked in the underground garage, Izzie turned to him and said, “We’ve had an intense day and I know you’re exhausted, but you should eat something before heading home. I mean, you live on the next block, so you’d still be home quickly. Plus, I didn’t see much food in your fridge yesterday and I doubt Noah went grocery shopping today. Would you like to grab something quick before you go?”

Tristan hesitated. Izzie was becoming a fixture in his new life and he wasn’t sure he enjoyed that. He’d better nip it in the bud. “Sounds good. Then, we can discuss traveling arrangements.”

What?! Where the hell did this come from? He mentally kicked himself in the shin when his mouth ran away like a fucking freight train.

“Awesome.”

He wondered if it was his imagination or did Izzie agree to his plan too fast? Either way, they walked to the elevator and once in, he reached out to press the button and realized he didn’t know which one. “What floor to the restaurant?”

She swiped a keycard and pressed the penthouse button. “Know what? We should order room service. We’re tired and I don’t feel like meeting people. I love fans, don’t get me wrong. I just don’t want to put on a happy face tonight.”

For a moment, Tristan felt like he was walking into a trap, but then shook off his suspicions. She made sense. It was his mistrust of Izzie that was getting to him. Plus, the exhaustion, not to mention hunger. His stomach growled as she opened the door to an elegant sitting room, decorated in contemporary style. Dark brown and cream were the dominant colors on the walls and furniture, complemented by strokes and splashes of vibrant yellows, reds and blues in the form of paintings, cushions and lamps.

“Sounds like you’re ready to order.” Laughing, Izzie handed him the phone that was nestled in its cradle on a side table. “Would you call room service while I jump in the shower? There’s a guest room with a bathroom through that door on the left. Feel free to use it. I’ll be right back.”

Most places in the city didn’t have climate control systems, which meant temperatures were similar inside and outside the buildings. In the summer, that made people sweaty and uncomfortable and even the locals complained about it. Tristan ordered the food and took Izzie up on her offer to use the shower since the meal wouldn’t arrive for another half hour.

Once in the bathroom, he realized he’d have to put his damp shirt and jeans back on after a cooling shower. That didn’t sound right, so he sauntered back to the bedroom and went through the drawers and closet searching for a solution. A dark blue plush robe would do it, while they ate and made the flight reservations. He undressed and draped his clothes on the back of the two chairs that sat by the side of the bed. They’d dry and he’d feel more comfortable wearing them when he was ready to go home.

Coming out of the shower, Tristan grabbed his white boxer briefs, but couldn’t talk himself into stepping into them. Deciding to go commando, he tied the belt tightly around his waist and laid the underwear on the seat of the chair.

A rap on the door announcing dinner had arrived came as he crossed the bedroom threshold, but Izzie was pacing the living room as she talked on her cell phone, so she swung it open before Tristan got to it. Either she had outgrown the constant self-consciousness of her youth or she didn’t realize she was wearing a see-through cami and short set. The blue lavender flowers printed on the fabric drew one’s eyes to her best assets. Tristan let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding when he saw a woman was carrying the room service tray. He didn’t want to think what he would have done, if a man came in through the door.

“Thanks, Rosa. Just put it on the usual spot, please,” Izzie directed the apparent regular server as she held the phone between her ear and shoulder and fished money from her wallet.

“Sure, Ms. Anderson.”

Izzie signed the slip of paper Rosa handed out to her and returned it, folded inside a ten-dollar tip. “Here you go. Good night.”

“Thank you. Good night.”

As he set the plates, silverware and the food on the table, Izzie wrapped up her phone call. “The contract is clear. I don’t need to do anything. I’m not going on tour anytime soon. I don’t care. You deal with the studio heads, Steve, that’s your job. Mine is taking care of my son. Don’t call me again before you straighten out the mess you’ve made.”

“Sorry to overhear your conversation.”

“That’s fine. I wasn’t discussing state secrets or anything like that,” she observed as she took a seat beside him. “This smells delicious.”

“Wait until you try chef Durand’s lobster bisque.”

Izzie had a spoonful of the creamy soup before replying, “Hmm, his bisque has got be something else to beat this one.”

“It is.”

“Funny you mention Chez Nous. I never returned to your restaurant. Are you keeping me away from there?”

“Don’t be silly. We’ve been too busy, that’s all.”

“So, when are you taking me there for dinner?” Her eyes sparkled in the bright room with something so close to flirtation, Tristan doubted he saw it right.

He shrugged and attacked the focaccia to keep from putting his foot in his mouth. They ate in silence for a while and Tristan admitted to himself he enjoyed the food as much as he did the company. If he were to be honest, he looked forward to those outings with Izzie. Earlier, he didn’t put up much of a fight when she mentioned dinner. The cozy hotel suite surrounding them, together with the comfy clothes they were wearing, contributed to a sense of familiarity and closeness that he hadn’t felt in a long time. So long, in fact, he had forgotten how good Izzie used to make him feel.

Don’t go there, dude. You’ll be so screwed.

He decided to steer back to safe topics of conversation. “How are you enjoying Florianópolis so far?”

Izzie knitted her eyebrows. “Fine, I guess. I haven’t seen much of it.”

They kept the trivial tone until the meal was over, when Tristan suggested, “Should we book the flights tonight? There’s another couple of weeks-worth of testing before the doctors give me a clean bill of health, but I guess it’s looking good, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.” Izzie stood up and moved towards the main bedroom. Tristan’s stomach flipped as he imagined she’d invite him in with the excuse of checking the airline companies on her computer. He feared he would give in to the increasing sexual tension he was battling since he got out of the guest room. “I guess the couch is more comfortable than the table now that we cluttered it with dishes, right? I’ll grab my laptop and be back in a jiffy.”

Trying to understand why he felt disappointed instead of relieved, Tristan fluffed the cushions, then sat on one end of the long brown leather couch. Plenty of room for Izzie. Before she reappeared, the living room lights’ brightness dropped to a candlelit dim mood and soothing jazz floated from built-in loudspeakers. What the hell?

“I think we’re entitled to some relaxation after these last intense days. Hope you don’t mind it.”

She sounded almost detached, which was in stark contrast to her intense stare. They locked eyes and the room felt warmer. As Izzie sat beside Tristan, so close their thighs touched, it took him a moment to realize she wasn’t carrying her laptop. He was too busy making sure his eyes stayed on hers instead of wandering down her body as they wanted to do. When he glanced at her lap and didn’t see the computer, she smiled.

Tristan nodded towards the bedroom door. “Forget something?”

“Changed my mind,” she whispered and the pink tip of her tongue riding her lower lip did funny things to his cock.

His brain threatened to shut down when she wrapped the end of the belt of his robe around her fingers. He forced his mouth to say something, anything, to keep him from doing something stupid, like pouncing on Izzie. “Woman’s prerogative?”

She chuckled. “You can say that.”

He followed her movements when she reached under the plush material and glided her hand on his chest. He should stop her. He should stand and leave. He closed his eyes and dropped his head on the couch when her nails scratched his hard nipple. Hissing, he covered her hands with his and pressed them to his chest. “I missed this.”

She splayed one hand over his heart and he sat upright, gazing into her passionate stare, when he felt the cool metal of the Claddagh ring against his skin. She closed her eyes as she leaned down and touched her ear to his chest. “I missed this. Your heartbeat has always been my favorite lullaby.”

“Shit, Izzie.”

Half laughing, half crying, she welcomed him as Tristan pulled her face up and angled it to cover her mouth in a tentative kiss. Unsure of what to expect, he grazed her soft lips as his fingers caressed her short hair. She took matters into her own hands, pulling his head down and forcing her tongue between his teeth, invading his mouth and decimating whatever feeble resistance he still had.

Coming up for air, she muttered as she rained kisses on his lips and cheeks. “What took you so long? I thought I would have to striptease to get your attention?”

“You kidding? You had my full attention since you came out of the shower. I wasn’t sure what to do with it though.”

“Well, now you know.” She swung a leg over his and sat on his lap, framing his face and kissing him again.

Tristan felt his cock coming to life under the loose robe when her warmth teased it as she rubbed herself against him. Grabbing her hips, he stopped her movements and made her look up into his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to do anything foolish that we’ll regret later, but if we’re going to stop, we must stop now. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop later.”

“It’s not a big deal. We’re consenting adults. We’ve had a couple of rough days and we’re looking for a pleasant way to relax.”

“It’s not that simple between us and you know it, Izzie. Nothing has really changed. I mean, having sex won’t erase the past. We’ll have to work hard on our issues before we can say the last fifteen years are dead in the past, right?”

She sighed and sat on his knees. “I know it, but let’s pretend it’s simple for just this night, okay? Can you do that? I want you and you want me. That much is simple.”

Tristan nodded. “I can live with that.”

He could live with much less than that. He had been living on scraps of faded memories and unconfessed wishes for the last fifteen years. He’d be damned if he didn’t take what Izzie was freely offering. He covered her mouth, kissing her with pent-up hunger, and thrusted his hips up when she slid up his thighs until their bodies collided and the intensity of his reactions to her stole his breath and ability to think.

As she slammed her upper body against Tristan’s, she pulled at his hair and tore at the robe. She needed to feel his bare skin, his warmth under her. He rolled them so that her back laid on the couch and he braced himself on one arm, caressing her with the free hand. His hot palm cupped her cheek, smoothed her shoulder, teased her breast and abdomen, then traveled down to her pelvis and thighs. He hooked it behind her knee and brought it up to his waist.

Eyeballing her, he dipped his head and whispered inside her ear as he nibbled on her earlobe, “You’re perfect.”

She knew she was not in any sense, but hearing him say those words warmed her from deep inside. She groaned as his fingers hooked on the waistband of her silk shorts, pulling them down her legs and throwing them over his shoulder.

His eyebrows shot up when he noticed she wasn’t wearing panties. “I like the way you think.”

Tristan cupped her sex, then teased her hard nub with his thumb as his index finger dove inside her. She expected him to kiss her, but he seemed interested in studying her reactions, so she locked eyes with him. Two could play that game. She hitched her knee and moved her thigh to give him easier access. He inserted a second finger while his thumb kept pressing down on her clit. He crooked his index finger to reach for her sweet spot and she moaned when the pad of his finger found it. Intensifying his stroking movements, Tristan brought her to the brink of an orgasm and slowed his fingers down when her flesh trembled under them.

She was about to complain when he leaned down to whisper against her lips, “I don’t want to take you on a couch, not after all these years. We deserve better.”

Standing, he reached out his hand and she grabbed it. He pulled her up and into his arms, then scooped her up. Once in the main bedroom, he laid her in the middle of the bed and shrugged out of the robe while she pulled the cami over her head and dropped it on the floor. Kneeling on the mattress beside her, he hovered over Izzie and she admired his body. Still as athletic and powerful as she remembered.

She sat upright and caressed his erection. “My turn. Lie down.”

She settled between his thighs when he did and licked his large head before sliding it over her tongue. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked and licked Tristan, bobbing her head up and down like he taught her to do. She gave head to other men, but none compared to Tristan. She truly enjoyed his scent and the texture as his cock poked the back of her throat. His loud moans and the tightening in his balls told her she’d better stop.

As if reading her mind, Tristan ran his fingers through her hair and pleaded, “That’s enough, sweetheart. I don’t want to come in your mouth. Not now.”

She didn’t want that either, so she let go of his erection and moved to straddle him. He knelt on the bed in front of her and cupped her cheeks. Capturing her mouth, he moved his lips slowly over hers and traced them with his tongue, but didn’t try to deepen the kiss. Pulling away, he smiled into her eyes. “I know being on top is your favorite position, but I’d rather try something different. Are you game?”

Intrigued, she conceded, “As long as it doesn’t involve pain.”

“No! None of that. Are you into it now?”

“Nope.”

“Good. I feel like neither of us should be on top for this first time. It’s a power thing, a sex position. So, I want us to be equals. If we’re to work on trust issues and stuff, we’d better begin in the bedroom, don’t you think?”

She couldn’t agree more. She smooched his cheek and giggled. “You’re amazing, Tristan Knight. How did I get so lucky?”

“Did you just giggle?” His expression was priceless.

“What can I say? You make me feel young again.”

He shook his head and the corner of his lips hitched up in his famous lopsided smile. She missed that too. “I want to make you feel so much more than that. Come here.”

He gathered her in his arms, sitting on his heels and guiding her to sit on his thighs. She swung a leg over his, bracing herself on her knees, as she positioned each one on either side of Tristan’s legs.

She forgot all about logistics when he kissed her again, this time with passion and hunger. His expert lips devoured hers and his tongue invaded her mouth, stroking its velvety length against hers. She crossed her arms around his neck and gasped when he seized her tiny waist and pulled her down his erection. He filled her up and her tight walls gripped his cock when they moved against each other, up and down, in and out.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against her when her flesh began trembling around his cock. She bent her head up, straining her neck and closed her eyes to savor the feeling of Tristan’s dick twitching inside her again. She didn’t try to hide a satisfied smile. He pinched her clit and her eyes flew open. “Stay with me,” he asked.

She couldn’t deny him that, so she gazed into his blue eyes, turned almost black by passion, and groaned when the first orgasm hit her like an eighteen-wheeler. She gasped and gritted her teeth, but didn’t let go of his stare. Spearing her fingers through his hair, she moved faster up and down his lap when his cock stabbed her womb. Tristan grunted and scratched her back, when he reached his climax. Unloading his cock deep inside her, he fused their lips in a passionate kiss as she crossed her ankles on the mattress behind him and reached her second wave of bliss.

Throughout the night, they rediscovered each other’s bodies and what made them tick and curl their toes. Although Izzie was aware they had a long way to go before Tristan would trust her again, she was optimistic he would eventually forget past mistakes.

The following morning, as they sat down in the hotel main restaurant for breakfast, their future looked promising. “I’m glad you stayed last night.”

“I’m glad you twisted my arm to stay.”

She punched Tristan’s upper arm and he flinched as if she had hurt him. “Don’t be a wuss. I cannot possibly hurt you with a fake slap like that.”

“You hurt my feelings,” he replied in mock indignation. He laughed out loud and she joined him.

Covering his hand with hers, she sobered up. “Seriously, Big T. Thanks for letting me in, for giving us another chance. We’ll make it work this time. I promise.”

He squeezed her hand and smiled. “Dig into your omelet, young lady. You’ll need energy to keep up with me today.”

She let the naughty come out to play. “Oh, really? I remember I wasn’t the one begging for mercy last night.”

“You think I’m made of rubber or something?” He countered and the double meaning wasn’t lost on her. “I just needed a second to recoup, that was all.”

“Yeah, let’s go with that.”

Izzie didn’t have time to continue tormenting him because a fan came up to their table. “I’m sorry to inconvenience you, but would you mind if we took a picture?”

“Not at all.”

Tristan stretched out his hand for the young guy’s phone. “I’ll take it for you.”

“Oh, I kinda thought you’d be in it as well Mr. Knight, if that’s okay with you.”

“Sure.” Tristan shrugged and signaled for a waiter to approach. “Would you mind taking a picture?”

“Absolutely, sir.” The man accepted the phone, snapped the picture and returned it to the fan.

“Thanks! My friends will go berserk when they see this,” the guy muttered to himself as he turned towards the restaurant exit.

Still smiling, Izzie turned to Tristan and kissed his lips. “The next couple of weeks will be crazy busy with the final tests and preparing to leave.”

“I’ve set up a meeting with Noah and Nelson to discuss specifics since I’ll be gone for at least three months, but my biggest concern is my mom.”

“She’s happy we’re doing this. She told us so when we visited her.” Izzie tried to make light of it, so he wouldn’t feel bad, but she knew why he worried.

“That’s not it. It’s her health.”

“She’s going to be fine. You’ll be back soon.”

“What if I don’t want to come back?”

Izzie’s heart thudded against her chest. “I don’t believe I’m saying this, but let’s cross that bridge when we get to it. First, let’s give our son a future.”

“I like the sound of that.”

If you intend to continue reading this series, you’ll find an additional scene from the next book after this page. However, if you don’t like cliffhangers or don’t plan to read the next installment, I suggest you stop reading here and skip to my author page.

Thanks for reading Tristan and remember to leave a review in the online store.

Sneak Peek

As he dragged his feet along the terminal’s endless corridor, Tristan looked sideways to find Izzie’s expression as drained as his probably was. “I didn’t remember the flight being so long.”

“Because you haven’t taken it in so many years. Not even the first-class service made it less exhausting this time.”

“The old seats didn’t help either. I mean, where are those pods that morph into beds I saw on their website?”

“Apparently not in this route, they aren’t,” she snapped in her best midwestern rendition.

Despite the fatigue, he laughed and was reminded, not for the first time, of her delightful sense of humor. Gone were the worries and self-doubts of a couple of months ago. Over health tests and doctors’ appointments, they bonded again. He found happiness in her presence and was eager to meet their son for the first time, even though the excitement was almost shadowed by the anxiety of the first encounter.

“You think he’s going to like me? What if he hates my guts? I mean, he must think I abandoned you and him.”

Izzie rolled her eyes at him. “Again with this shit? I’ve told you a million times and I’ll repeat it another million times until you get it through your thick skull. Arthur is an awesome boy. He’s incapable of hating anybody and he’s not going to start with you. You’re saving his life, for fuck’s sake.”

They reached Customs and Border Control and stopped moving to look for their passports. Neither of them noticed the couple in dark suits standing a few feet away until the woman spoke. “Ms. Anderson? Mr. Knight? I’m Special Agent Cooper, this is Special Agent Morales. We’re with the FBI and we need you to come with us.”

Snapping his head up, Tristan frowned at them. “What do you mean? What happened?”

Although the United States counted with a myriad of distinct police enforcement agencies, the FBI didn’t patrol borders. That much he knew.

“We need to debrief you about the situation, so we’ll take you to a meeting room Border Police made available. Also, you’ll want to avoid the barricade of press members and fans that’s waiting for your arrival, so we’ve arranged for a car to pick us up at the back once we’re done here.”

Tristan’s head was reeling, none of it made any sense, but before he could express his feelings, Izzie spat out, “What the hell are you driving at? What situation?” Panic made her naturally soothing voice turn squeaky.

“My apologies, ma’am. I thought you knew about it.” The tall red-headed federal agent exchanged a look with her sturdy partner. “Mark King kidnapped your son last night.”

If Special Agent Cooper had kicked him in the nuts, it wouldn’t have been as painful. He looked into Izzie’s eyes and blurted out, “This time I will kill the motherfucker.”

About the Author

International best-selling author Liz Gavin, has accomplished much in her short career. Her books have made to #1 and Top Five best-selling ranks in her home country Brazil and others as diverse as Japan, the UK and the US; both in English and Portuguese, collecting 5 and 4-star reviews. Nominated for a Summer Indie Book Award in 2016, and again in 2017, this RWA member constantly seeks new opportunities to improve her craft.

This thirst for knowledge propelled Liz to leave the comforts of family and friends in Brazil and move to California to pursue a Master’s degree in late 2015. She lives in sunny SoCal, where she’s researching the writing process, for her thesis, in hopes to figure out why she creates in English instead of her native Portuguese.

Liz Gavin writes in contemporary, paranormal, and historical genres. In her sexy stories, one finds smart, independent women, who don’t need rescuing by knights in shining armor, but indulge in steamy action with swoony Alpha males with big hearts. She also writes about women discovering their sexuality and finding happiness in unconventional setups.

Where to Find More of Liz Gavin:

Website – lizgavin.com

Twitter - https://twitter.com/LizGavin_author

Sign up for newsletter here - https://emailoctopus.com/lists/44583e73-26c6-11e7-b170-0244cade5e89/forms/subscribe

Facebook Page - https://www.facebook.com/lizgavinauthor

Also by Liz Gavin

Knight’s Edge Series

Tristan – Book # 1 – full length novel

Noah – Book # 2

Luck Series

Luck of the Irish – Book #1

Beginner’s Luck – Book # 2

Highland Celts Series

Celtic Fire – Book #1

Irish Fire – Book # 2

Wicca Fire – Book #3

Powerless Series

Boss - Prequel

Upside Down – Book #1

Club Desire Stories

Between the Ghost and the Dom

Her Favorite Ghost

Take me to the Domme

In the Lounge

Halloween at Club Desire

At the Club

Steamy Short-stories

Flying High

Her Discipline

Indecent Proposal

Find these and other titles at lizgavin.com

Desire a Bridesmaid

Fourth in the Always a Bridesmaid series

Courtney Hunt

Five years ago, aimless drifter Carter Prescott and recent divorcee Anna Westbrook shared one wild, wicked night on Eden Isle. Now, after a hurricane flattened the island, Carter transformed his ruined resort into the most beautiful in the Caribbean. When professional bridesmaid Anna arrives in Eden Isle, Carter needs her help to publicize his new destination wedding package. Will Anna and Carter discover that one perfect night in paradise will never be enough?

Chapter 1

“I’m done being a bridesmaid.” Anna Worthington Westbrook announced as she claimed the visitor’s chair in her boss, Erin Delaney’s office. Outside, a gray, dreary mid-winter sky hung over Savannah as the afternoon sun dropped toward the west. Long shadows slanted over the winter-nude trees, their branches clacking together outside the window. Anna shivered as she sipped her cup of hibiscus tea, longing for white sand, beach breezes, and bright sunshine. “Everything seems so hopeless in mid-winter, doesn’t it?”

“Bad day?” Erin offered her a crimson foil wrapped chocolate heart from the crumpled bag of bargain Valentine’s candy on her desk. Anna scowled at the reminder that she’d been single and alone—again—for the romantic holiday just a week before.

“I’m hanging up the dresses and the matching shoes.” Anna declined the offer of candy with a wave, though the delectable aroma wafted over to tempt her as Erin unwrapped a treat for herself. “It’s past time anyway. I’m getting a bit old to be a bridesmaid.”

“You’re 34.” Erin popped the candy into her mouth before rubbing at the center of her forehead as though she had a tension headache.

“33. My birthday isn’t until summer.” Anna corrected. “All my friends are knee-deep in onesies and pacifiers. It’s past time to hang up the bridesmaid’s gig. Not that I don’t appreciate you giving me the job.”

Erin waved her thanks away. “So, you’re finally going to take the leap, huh?”

“I’ve got enough money saved up. I think. I hope.” Anna’s heart thrummed in her chest as her stomach churned. Her cherished dreams were finally in reach. “I can finally get started. I think. I hope.”

“That’s great.”

“Without you, it would have taken years to save the money for my own firm. You did me a huge favor when you gave me this job.”

“Since you owe me a favor and everything, can’t you just do one more wedding?”

To give herself time to think, Anna picked at the pink foil on a heart shaped chocolate before answering. She tore off first one corner and then another, keeping her gaze focused on the task. She rarely gave into temptation but, once the foil slid off, she popped the sugary chocolate into her mouth. Sinful. Didn’t everyone deserve a treat now and then?

“I promise this one will be fun.”

“Where have I heard that before?” Anna let the rich chocolate dissolve on her tongue, luxuriating in the sweetness.

“It’s a destination wedding. In the Caribbean. Think of all that gorgeous white sand and waves lapping the beach.”

“None of which I’ll get to see because I’ll be working the wedding.”

“Come on, it’ll practically be a vacation.”

“I’m done being a bridesmaid.” Anna repeated but with less determination in her voice. She really did owe Erin for hiring her. Plus, she was her friend. But starting a new business was an amazing amount of work. Anna really didn’t have time to go to the Caribbean.

“If you don’t do this wedding for me, I’ll have to cancel my honeymoon.”

It should have been both awkward and weird, sitting here discussing Erin’s upcoming and long-delayed honeymoon with Anna’s ex-husband. But, since she’d been working part-time for Always a Bridesmaid, Anna forged a solid friendship with her ex-husband’s new wife. Now, Erin was probably her closest friend. Funny how life twists and turns.

“Can’t do it.” Anna said. “You have only yourself to blame. I’m all inspired to run my own business now, after watching your example the past two years.”

“And you can totally do it and will have the best interior design firm in Savannah—maybe even in Georgia. Just as soon as you’re done with this one last wedding.”

“Why can’t Dylan do it?”

“He wouldn’t look good in the dress. Blue’s not his color.” Erin answered as Abby chuckled. “The contract is for a bridesmaid.”

“Send Abby.”

“I need someone more seasoned.”

“By seasoned you mean old?”

“I mean experienced and confident.” Erin said. “This bride writes for Happily Ever After.”

“The wedding blog?” Anna raised her eyebrows and Erin nodded. “I’m surprised you’re not doing it. You’re the most seasoned bridesmaid of all.”

“If I wasn’t going to be in Tahiti on my honeymoon, I would. But, as it is, I’ll have to send you instead.”

“Change the dates for your trip.”

“I can’t. Non-refundable.”

“Send Lauren.”

“She and Kyle are doing a joint art show of her paintings and his photographs. It’s the same weekend as the wedding.” Erin sighed. “There’s no one else.”

“When is this wedding?” Anna softened. She really did owe Erin for giving her a part-time job. If it hadn’t been for Erin and her professional bridesmaid business, Anna would still be slaving away in a cubicle farm, with no hope of freedom until retirement.

“Next weekend.” Erin grinned. “You’re always saying you can do design work anywhere. Pack your laptop and go.”

Anna sighed. She already knew she was fighting a losing battle. Erin’s determination and persuasive skills were legendary. Still, she’d make her best friend work for it before she gave in. “Where is it?”

“Eden Isle. It’s a resort near St. Lucia.”

“I know where it is.” Anna started, her heart slamming jackrabbit fast in her chest. She closed her eyes, the echo of the chocolate still on her tongue reminding her of that one sinful night with Carter. She’d never forgotten what his big hands felt like, caressing her, loving her, treasuring her. Anna swallowed hard. She didn’t want to think about that one passionate night right now. “I’ve been, actually.”

“You’ve been?”

“Years ago.” Anna pressed on. “Right after my divorce was final. But it’s a singles resort. Why are they holding a wedding there?”

“Apparently they’ve just built a new wedding chapel that they want to show off.”

“And the bride just happens to write for Happily Ever After.”

“Free publicity is the best kind. And hopefully, she’ll just happen to write about what an amazing job Always a Bridesmaid did too.” Erin said. “It’s just a few days. Not even a week.”

“Okay.” Anna gave in. “I’ll do it.”

“Thank you!” Erin squealed. “You’re off to Eden Isle.”

Chapter 2

At ten minutes to midnight, just about 12 hours after she’d departed Savannah, Anna crossed the threshold into the lobby of the Eden Isle resort, travel weary and bone tired. The cool indoor air raised gooseflesh on her bare arms but was still a relief from the warm, sticky night outside. She balanced her wobbly suitcase behind her as she paused to survey the changes to the lobby.

When she’d last visited, oversized palm leaf wall paper and kitschy decor overwhelmed the space. Now, it’d been transformed into a welcoming oasis of soaring teak pillars holding up a glass ceiling, decorated only with the glowing constellations visible in the unlit sky. Moonlight streamed over the intricate mosaics of patterned wood on the polished floor. Bamboo sofas covered with pale green cushions beckoned invitingly. The kinks in her back loosened as she drew a deep breath, the air scented with frangipani and the fresh scent of the waterfall splashing over a rock garden along the back wall. She’d discovered a tropical oasis.

A man dressed in white linen trousers and a loose gray t-shirt lay on the farthest sofa, a white straw fedora covering his face, his arms crossed abdomen. The steady rise and fall of his chest indicated he slept soundly. Anna picked up her suitcase and tip-toed to the front desk, trying not to disturb him.

“Hello?” She whispered when she realized there was no one there to check her in. She might have to curl up on one of the comfy looking sofas herself. She hid a yawn behind her hand and stretched discreetly. She’d like nothing more than to sleep for a week.

“Well, if it isn’t Anna from Savannah.” A male voice drawled from behind her.

It couldn’t be. She dreamt of that voice, with the hint of honeyed vowels and Tennessee hills, just edging toward raspy. Her shoulders—sore and achy from her twisted pretzel nap on the plane—drew tight before she whirled around.

The man from the sofa stood behind her, a flirty smile on his lips. He stood tall, with tousled dark blonde hair, cowlicks sticking up all over his head and those incredible eyes, the color of the Caribbean sea just before a storm, blue-green with flecks of gold. His gray t-shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, highlighting his muscled chest and strong arms, his skin golden from the sun.

Anna realized she’d been staring open-mouthed at him for several stunned seconds. She licked her dry lips and stammered, “Carter?”

“In the flesh.”

Five years ago, he’d been a guest, like her, out for a no-strings-attached good time. She’d never imagined seeing him again, after that one wild night. She shifted, wondering how it was possible he was here. What set of circumstances or providence would bring them both back to Eden Isle at the same time.?

“What brings you here?” He asked, flashing a smile, his teeth pearly white against his tanned face.

“I’m in a wedding.”

He opened his mouth to say more when a soft voice behind them asked, “May I help you?”

Anna turned to see a heavily pregnant woman—no more than a girl really—standing behind the front desk. She couldn’t be more than twenty but she wore a wedding ring on a chain around her neck, her rounded belly echoing the roundness of her cheeks.

“Naomi, I got this. You stay off your feet.” Carter strode around the counter to pat the girl on the shoulder. She rubbed sleep from her eyes and yawned before shooting Carter a grateful smile.

“Thanks, Mr. Prescott.” She waddled away, disappearing into the back room as Carter turned back to Anna.

“Let’s get you checked in.”

“You work here?”

“Not usually at the front desk but since Naomi is about to welcome that baby any day, I’ve been helping out overnight,” Carter answered. “Now, what’s your last name?”

“Westbrook.” Anna answered absently, lost in thoughts of the night she met Carter.

She’d been with a group of her girlfriends, dancing in the tiny salsa bar on the beach. Carter’d been nursing a long-necked beer in an amber bottle because, when she decided to dance with him, she’d taken it from him and drained it before pulling him on to the dance floor, the taste of hops still bitter on her tongue. Later, they left precious little time for talking, allowing their bodies to communicate for them. She’d always assumed he’d been a guest like her, single and looking for a good time. She’d never imagined that Carter—her fantasy man—worked at Eden Isle.

Carter tapped some keys on the computer and kept his eyes locked on the screen. She’s never expected to see him again, never expected to run into him after their uninhibited night together. Now, here she was, face to face with the man she’d spent the last five years remembering. He handed her a slim plastic key, their fingers brushing. Their gazes met and, in an instant, Anna knew he remembered their night together too.

“How come you’re arriving so late?”

“My plane was delayed due to fog. We sat on the tarmac at Atlanta for ages before I finally got to St. Thomas.”

“I’m surprised you got out of St. Thomas this late.”

“We left St. Thomas hours ago, in a tiny seaplane the size of a soda can,” Anna said. “I just made it to the last ferry.”

“But the ferry docks at ten.” Carter’s forehead crumpled.

“I couldn’t find a taxi so I walked.”

“You walked from the ferry dock?”

“How else was I supposed to get here?” Anna snapped. “It wouldn’t have been so bad if the wheel on my suitcase hadn’t snapped halfway up the hill.”

“You have had a time of it, haven’t you?” Carter grinned at her. “You must be hungry.”

“I’m fine.” Anna demurred but her stomach betrayed her by letting out a loud, echoing rumble.

“Come on around here to the staff kitchen. I’ll whip something up for you.” He strode over to a cunningly hidden door beside the desk and swung it open. Anna hesitated for a moment, feeling wary, but, in the end, she followed him. She expected to find a dull, depressing break room, with a wonky vending machine and dirty microwave. Instead, he led her into a fully functional kitchen. Moonlight streamed through a wide row of windows along the back wall, making the stainless steel sink gleam like a mirror. Bamboo barstools ranged along an kitchen island inset with leaf green subway titles. Strands of glass in jewel tones dangled from the lighting fixture in the center, dappling the counter with color.

She sank gratefully into a chair at the counter as Carter opened the fridge. Anna propped her head on her hand, fighting to stay awake, as he rattled around the kitchen.

“There you go.” Carter’s words jolted Anna out of the doze she’d surrendered to. He placed a grilled cheese sandwich, the crust perfectly golden as gooey cheese oozed out the side, in front of her, before presenting her with a steaming mug of tomato soup, dusted with parmesan cheese. He turned back to the kitchen counter before grabbing another plate, with another sandwich, and a mug. “Going to take this to Naomi. You eat up.”

Anna blinked down at the sandwich. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone made a simple meal for her. No one ever took care of her. For all that she was a strong independent woman, it was nice to be cared for. She picked up a sandwich triangle and bit into it, the sweet and savory combo of fig jam and brie cheese melting in her mouth. By the time Carter arrived back in the kitchen, only crumbs remained of the delicious sandwich as she sipped the warm, soothing soup.

“Thank you,” Anna said but Carter waved off her thanks as he set to scrubbing the frying pan he’d used. “I didn’t realize that you worked here…um…you know, before.”

“I didn’t. Not back then.” Carter wiped his hands on a dishtowel before tossing it over his shoulder and turning back to her. “But, things change.”

“Didn’t want to leave paradise?”

“Something like that.” Carter shrugged, ducking his head so his shaggy bangs fell across his eyes.

Anna wanted to know more. She’d often wondered about Carter who she knew so intimately and also not at all. But, sensing he didn’t want her to pry, swallowed the rest of her soup before standing. “Thanks for the meal. It was delicious.”

“You’re welcome. And welcome to Eden Isle.”

“You ready to show off Carter’s folly?” Oliver Prescott, the owner of Eden Isle, who also happened to be his grandfather, strolled up to Carter in the sunny lobby the next morning, a white porcelain cup of rich black coffee in his hand.

Together, they watched sleepy-eyed guests meander into the beachside breakfast buffet. His grandfather stood tall, tanned, and trim, with just a dusting of silver hair at his temples to make him look distinguished. This morning, he’d already played a round of golf, just after sunrise, and still wore a dark polo shirt over perfectly pressed khakis. Next to him, Carter became acutely aware that he’d slept in his own rumpled clothes.

“If the bride would ever show up,” Carter muttered.

“You wouldn’t be the first guy waiting at the altar for a bride that doesn’t show. Course, normally, it’s the groom that’s waiting, not the guy who sunk nearly a million dollars into a fancy wedding chapel,” Oliver nudged Carter’s shoulder with his own to soften the sting of his teasing before taking a sip of his coffee.

Carter rubbed his forehead, trying to stave off the headache already brewing behind his eyes. Today promised to be a long day and the wedding was still three days away.

Five years ago, after a hurricane flattened Eden Isle, Carter and his grandfather teamed up to rebuild the once kitschy resort into the gorgeous, eco-friendly place it was today. Over time, with a lot of money, hard work, and determination, Eden Isle become one of the Caribbean’s premier eco-tourism destinations.

But Carter felt it could be more. The wedding chapel had been his idea from the start. Couples looking for a wedding destination couldn’t do better than the raw natural beauty of Eden Isle to celebrate in and eco-friendly bridal locations were rare. After over a year of arguing his case with his mule of a grandfather, it took two years to construct Carter’s masterpiece. He’d insisted on using only local materials, such as wood from the island and recycled glass. And now, finally, the chapel was ready. They just needed one amazing wedding.

“Why is this wedding so important again?” Oliver asked.

“The bride works for Happily Ever After. It’s the top bridal blog in the US. If she’s happy with her experience—“

“She should be. She’s getting a free wedding out of it.”

“Then she’ll give us a good recommendation. If we get a five diamond ring review, than—“

“All the other sheep—I mean blushing brides—will be lining up to get hitched there, dragging their reluctant grooms behind.” Oliver nodded. “It’s a good plan for publicity, even if I don’t know what a blog is.”

“A blog is like an online magazine, Gramps.”

“Still don’t know what it is.”

Though Oliver was a spry seventy, he liked to pretend he was far older—and more ornery—than he actually was. Sometimes, Carter wasn’t sure if he was pretending or, by pretending so long, he’d actually become ornery. Probably a bit of both. Oliver Prescott remained one of the sharpest businessmen in the world. He just liked giving Carter a hard time.

A dark-haired woman, her hair in an elegant twist, stepped off the elevator. She wore a strapless sundress the color of a hibiscus flower. Even before she turned her face toward them, Carter recognized her from the set of her shoulders. Anna.

He still couldn’t believe his Anna from Savannah had come back into his life at just this moment. He’d never imagined he’d see her again and yet, here she was, a bridesmaid in his had-to-be perfect wedding. She gifted him with a rare smile and a quick wave before strolling over to join them.

“Anna, this is Oliver Prescott. He owns Eden Isle.” The sultry-sweet scent of her perfume—gardenias and honey mixed with a spice he couldn’t quite identify—teased him with a torrent of vivid memories. Closing his mind to the past, Carter turned to his grandfather, praying the old rascal would behave. “Anna is from Savannah.”

“Enchante.” He murmured, as though he hailed from Paris rather than the backwoods of Kentucky. His grandfather excused a courtly bow and brushed his lips over the back of her hand. Carter just managed not to roll his eyes.

The corners of Anna’s mouth tipped up in amusement. “You’re also Carter’s grandfather, right?”

“You’re perceptive enough to see the resemblance between this handsome young man and this elderly decrepit one?”

“A bit,” Anna agreed easily. “But actually I did my senior project on Prescott Properties too.”

“Brains and beauty.” Oliver still hadn’t let go of Anna’s hand and now he gave her a charming smile. Carter recognized when Oliver decided to flirt and stepped forward, forcing them to break apart. He placed a hand on Anna’s shoulder, her bare skin warm and silky under his fingers. “The breakfast buffet is just through there.”

“I was supposed to meet the bride in the lobby at ten,” she murmured.

“Her flight from New York is delayed due to storms,” Carter said. “Why don’t you eat and we’ll go check out the wedding chapel after that.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Anna gave them a cheery wave and departed, her full skirt swaying as she walked gracefully away.

“You know her?”

“We’ve met.” Carter tore his gaze away from Anna.

Oliver raised his eyebrows before attempting to hide his grin behind his coffee mug, “I see.”

“You don’t see. Look, it was once, a long time ago, a lifetime ago, before.” Carter trailed off, not wanting to think about the mess he’d been back then.

“And now, after?”

“And now nothing,” Carter shrugged, sticking his hands in his pockets. He’d fought hard to become the man he was today, instead of the aimless drifter Anna had known. “Other than having the same goal—a perfect wedding. She’s a professional bridesmaid so she should be some help.”

“She’s a what now?”

“A professional bridesmaid.” At Oliver’s confused expression, Carter continued, “It’s like a wedding planner in a bridesmaid’s dress.”

“Every time I got married, the bride wanted to rope all her friends and relations into dressing up. Why on God’s green earth would someone hire a bridesmaid?”

“And how smoothly did that friends and relations bridal party go? Each and every time?” Carter had been to several of his grandfather’s weddings over the years, each more memorable than the last. “Remember at that luau you threw when you married Cecilia and her bridesmaid threw the bouquet back at her? Or what about your third—or was it second—?”

“You may have a point but no need to stroll down Memory Lane today, thank you kindly.” Oliver patted Carter’s shoulder. “You’ve done well. I must say that I never expected all this when I dragged your rum soaked butt off the floor.”

Carter didn’t have time for distractions, no matter how pretty they looked in a red sundress. Now wasn’t the moment to re-live his past. This wedding was about the future. The future he’d created, out of sheer will and grit and determination here on the island. He had other big dreams, other plans for the resort and for Prescott Properties, but this wedding held the key to all of them. If he could pull it off, he would finally prove to his grandfather that he could run Prescott Properties. It couldn’t derail now or it would all go back to ash and rubble.

No matter how tempting Anna might look in her pretty red sundress.

Chapter 3

Anna bypassed the sumptuous breakfast buffet and, after grabbing a quick cup of coffee, headed to the balcony overlooking the undulating turquoise waves below. She found an alcove away from the breezy morning and speed dialed Erin.

“Send Abby.” Anna said, without so much as a greeting, as soon as Erin picked up.

“Hello to you too.” Erin answered, sounding distracted and breathless. “I can’t find my phone charger.”

“You’ve got six spare ones. Grab one of those.” Anna answered, “And send Abby. I can’t be a bridesmaid in this wedding.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t.” Anna closed her eyes as the memories of her night with Carter crashed over her. “Send Abby.”

“I can’t,” Erin answered. “She’s got the Fraser wedding this weekend.”

“Send Lauren then.”

“What’s up, Anna?” Erin paused. When Anna didn’t respond, she said, more gently, “Anna, what’s going on?”

“It’s difficult to explain.”

“Can you try? And quickly. I’ve gotta get to the airport.”

“So, remember I told you that I’d been to Eden Isle before?”

“Yes.”

“Well, last time I was here, I met someone.”

“And?”

“And, it was just after my divorce became final. So, um—”

“You went a little wild?”

“I guess.” She’d met Carter in the beachside bar, after a day of drinking rum punch on the beach. She’d been dancing with a group of girlfriends, feeling loose limbed and free. Carter sat at the end of the bar, nursing a long-necked beer bottle. She’d gone over to get him to dance, feeling bold after her third rum punch. He’d told her the price for a dance was a kiss. And somehow she’d ended up having the most uninhibited night of her life with him. “We hooked up.”

That simple phrase didn’t encompass the torrent of sensual memories. The passion between them burned white-hot, undeniable, primal lust. Anna squeezed her eyes shut and drew in a deep breath of the delicately scented island air.

“Okay, so you hooked up with someone there five years ago. So what?”

“He’s here. He’s in charge of the wedding chapel.”

“Oh wow,” Erin chuckled. “Well, we do have a non-fraternization policy in place.”

“What are you going to do? Fire me?” Anna chewed her fingernail and then clenched her hand into a fist. She’d quit that habit years ago. “Actually that’s a great idea. Fire me.”

“I am not going to fire you,” Erin said. “You’re great at being a bridesmaid. You can handle this.”

“It’s got nothing to do with being a bridesmaid. I can do that part. It’s the resisting Carter part that might be an issue.”

“Carter, huh? This just gets more and more interesting. Tell me more.”

“I never thought I’d see him again. It was just a quick, anonymous—or nearly so—after my—after—“

“After you and Matthew split up?” Erin asked, her voice calm.

“Right.” Anna drew in a deep breath again. She could do this. She’d just ignore the attraction between them. After all, she spent her life surrounded by hot guys at weddings every weekend. “Never mind. It’ll be fine.”

“What are you going to do, other than him, I mean?”

“Erin!”

“What happens in the islands and all that. When in Rome.”

“Weren’t you just reminding me of the non-frat policy.”

“More like a guideline, really.” Erin teased. “Look, you’re going to be there for three more days—and nights. So long as the two of you pull off this wedding—which I have no doubt you will—well, have fun with it, I say.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend Erin?”

“I think you deserve a bit of fun. Now, I’m off to the airport to have a bit of fun of my own. You okay?”

“Yeah, have a great time. Don’t worry. I’ve got this.”

Anna hung up and stared out at the water, watching the sun sparkle on the waves. She’d changed from the hurt, bewildered girl who’d arrived on Eden Isle five years ago, heartbroken and battered from her divorce. Somehow, over the past five years, she’d wrested a new person from the ashes and rubble of her divorce.

She build herself a new life and decided to build her own business. She didn’t want just a one-night stand to leave her empty and cold. She’d just stay strong and stay focused on the job.

Anna strolled back into the lobby. Carter chatted easily with a couple of new arrivals near the front desk, recommending nearby restaurants and local hotspots. He smiled, charming and warm, and her pulse fluttered. Carter really was ridiculously handsome, with his sun-streaked hair and sea-colored eyes. His having dimples was really just unfair, like gilding the lily.

Maybe if she’d met him in Savannah, they could have dated, gone out to dinner, found out if more than passion lay between them. But that just wasn’t possible. He lived on a tiny island in the Caribbean and she’d carefully built her own life in Savannah. Nothing could come of this attraction, no matter how strong it was.

Strong and focused, she repeated her mantra to herself, strong and focused.

No matter how cute his dimples were.

Chapter 4

“Did you enjoy your breakfast?” Carter asked Anna as soon as he finished checking in the latest guests. He’d caught the enticing scent of her perfume as soon as she strolled up behind him but steadfastly ignored the distraction. After a poor night’s rest on the sofa and with the stress of the wedding—not to mention Anna’s tempting presence—Carter’s head pounded.

“The coffee was excellent. I think I’m still full from my late night sandwich,” Anna smiled warmly. “Thank you again.”

“Late night sandwich?” His grandfather raised a single eyebrow at Carter.

“Due to some travel mishaps, Anna arrived after the kitchen closed last night.” Carter explained, trying not see the twinkle in his grandfather’s eye as foreboding. His grandfather’s reputation for mischief was exceeded only by his reputation for matchmaking. Carter didn’t need either trait making an inconvenient appearance this weekend. “As Ms. Waters hasn’t arrived yet—“

A tall woman, dressed in white pants and a turquoise patterned blouse, her hair piled high in blonde ringlets, strode into the lobby, pulling two large rolling suitcases behind her. Two bellmen followed, each pushing carts precariously piled high with a mishmash of luggage. The woman, her bangle bracelets jangling and her spiked heels clicking, strode over to the front desk and slammed her hand on the bell.

“May I help you?” Carter asked, his voice cool and polite, even as his temples throbbed. “Do you have a reservation?”

“I hope so. I’m having my wedding here in three days, assuming my useless groom can get here on time. I’m Kim Waters.”

“Ms. Waters, so lovely to have you with us.” Carter moved smoothly around the front desk and grabbed her VIP registration packet. “I’m Carter Prescott. Welcome to Eden Isle.”

“Thanks.” Kim turned an appraising eye on the lobby. “I like this. It’s elegant. I’ll have to get some shots in here.”

“Delighted,” Carter assured her, wondering when he could squeeze a photo shoot into an already overflowing schedule. “Allow me introduce you to Anna Westbrook from Always a Bridesmaid.”

“You’re the hired bridesmaid, right?” Kim glanced at Anna, her gaze raking Anna from head to heel. “You’ll do. Can you head up to my room and get things unpacked and organized?”

“We have staff that can assist with your unpacking, Ms. Waters,” Carter said, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. He should be accustomed to dealing with demanding guests by now. He wished he’d had time for breakfast or at least a cup of coffee. “Anna’s more specialized assistance will be better served helping with last minute wedding issues. In fact, we were just getting ready to visit the chapel, if you’d like to accompany us?”

“That’s okay, sweetie. Just point me toward the spa. I’m dying for a massage after that flight. Sat on the tarmac for ages, contorted like a pretzel into those tiny seats,” Kim smiled widely at Carter, putting him in mind of one of the toothy, grinning sharks stenciled around the pool area. He struggled to return her smile as he summoned one of the bellman to escort Kim to the spa. He rubbed his temples as she clicked out of sight. “Just us to visit the chapel then.”

“Don’t you find it odd that the bride wasn’t hightailing it over to see the wedding spot?” Oliver commented.

“She saw pictures online. Maybe she’s really laid back.”

“I’ve yet to meet a laid-back bride,” Anna laughed. “Maybe she’s just tired from traveling.”

“Perhaps,” Oliver shrugged. “I’ll man the shop while you take Anna over to see the folly.”

“The folly?” Anna glanced between Oliver and Carter, a smile flirting with her full mouth.

“He means the chapel.” Carter sighed, raking a hand through his hair before rubbing at his tired eyes. “Let me get a cart and I’ll meet you out front.”

Five minutes later, Carter swung a golf cart around to the front door to pick Anna up. Gracefully, Anna climbed into the passenger seat and handed him a paper travel cup, fragrant steam curling from the top. He took a quick sip of the rich, heavenly coffee, grateful as the caffeine flowed through his system.

“Brought you a bagel too.” Anna carefully unwrapped the paper before handing over the perfectly warmed bagel with melted cream cheese. Their fingers brushed as she gave him the breakfast treat but sunglasses shielded her expression. She twined her fingers on her lap as he eased the cart onto the wide driveway in front of the resort

“You’re a lifesaver,” Carter said between bites of bagel.

“I figured you didn’t get much rest last night, sleeping in the lobby.”

“I won’t until this wedding is over.”

“Me neither,” Anna agreed. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine.”

“Bet you say that to all your jittery brides.”

“Yep.” She shot him a smile that he returned as the tension in his shoulders eased by infinitesimal degrees. “But it’s always true. My boss, Erin, always says that it’s the things that go wrong that are the most memorable.”

“I just don’t want the readers of the Happily Ever After blog to remember how wrong the wedding went at Eden Isle.”

“It’ll be fine,” Anna repeated.

Carter drove the golf cart along a hidden path shaded by dense lush greenery. The turquoise sea peeped through breaks in the foliage, the sun sparkling like a mirror on the waves beyond. Anna seemed content to just enjoy the view so Carter wolfed down his bagel and polished off his coffee. Just the small meal made him feel so much better and more optimistic even through his jangling nerves.

They swung around a curve and the foliage fell away to reveal the curved, thatched walls of the wedding pavilion with a wide driveway of crushed white seashells in front. The non-denominational chapel stood on the tip of the island, with the expanse of the gorgeous turquoise Caribbean sea in full panoramic view beyond. The nearest islands were two verdant green mounds, just visible in the distance. Blooming hibiscus plants and birds of paradise lined the walkway, with cleverly designed photo spots tucked in along the gently winding path. Colorful wind-chimes dangled from the front porch, tinkling softly in the breeze, over the ceaseless waves cresting on the beach below.

“What a stunning spot,” Anna climbed from the golf cart and turned in a circle, taking in the panoramic view. Behind them, high up on the central mountain of the island, a silver ribbon of waterfall splashed amid the lush green foliage--yet another beautiful photo backdrop. “I bet it’s unbelievably gorgeous at sunrise and sunset.”

“Yeah, it is,” Carter grinned at her, happy to share the site with someone who appreciated it for once. “Come on in, let me show you the inside.”

Inside, the stained glass panels set in the walls splashed the glossy floor and simple benches with a bright patchwork of color. Beyond the carved teak alter, paneled windows revealed a soaring view of the sea, the horizon endless and full of promise. Sailboats scudded along the harbor below, some with colorful parasails trailing behind. Behind them, matching windows framed the view of the waterfall amid the lush mountain greenery.

“It’s even more beautiful and impressive in here, Carter,” Anna commented in a hushed, awed tone as she pushed her sunglasses atop her head. She touched one of the stained glass panels, this one of a dolphin in mid-jump before tracing her fingers over a sea turtle image captured in the panel next to it.

“I’ve never seen stained glass like this before.”

“Local artisans make it from glass recycled from the hotel. The wind chimes are their creations too.” Carter stuck his hands in his pockets, enjoying watching Anna discover the space. “The benches and altar were created here on the island from reclaimed wood. Eco-friendly and all that.”

“I saw the wind chimes in the lobby gift shop.”

“I figured that wedding guests might want to take them home as a memento.”

“Clever. It’s gorgeous. You’ve highlighted the beauty of the island perfectly. The weddings here will be amazing.”

“I hope so. If we can get people to come here, instead of the big resorts.”

“The Happily Ever After feature will help with that, right?”

“I hope so. Ms. Waters opted for a candlelight ceremony, just after sunset.”

“I can picture it,” Anna nodded, pausing to examine each stained glass window as she strolled up the side aisle. “These are just amazing.”

He met her at the top of the aisle, where they stood facing each other, the hush of the quiet chapel surrounding them, only the tinkling wind chimes outside breaking the silence.

“I didn’t expect to see you again.” Anna blurted suddenly.

“When you came back to the island?”

“Ever, really.” Anna laughed, her cheeks turning just a shade lighter than her dress. “But here we are. I hope the past won’t--that is, I hope that we’ll be able to work together.”

“If my memory serves, we worked together very well before.” Carter winked at her, noticing the pulse fluttering in her long neck.

“I hope we can do so again,” Anna tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. Carter raised a single eyebrow at her and watched her flush deepen. “I meant--that is--”

“It’s a few days work in each other’s company, Anna Banana.” Carter stuck his hands in his pockets instead of reaching for her. “I think we can do it.”

“Absolutely,” Anna agreed. “I’ve got a job to do here and you do too.”

“So no sex?” Carter joked.

“Of course not.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

She stuck out her hand to shake on their deal and he took it. Instantly, Carter realized that he’d made a terrible miscalculation. Just the press of her palm against his brought an onslaught of sensual memories, of their mad, intense passion, the scent of her warm silky skin as she wrapped around him. He realized suddenly how close they stood in the darkened chapel, their gazes locked on each other. He just had to tilt his head and he’d get to taste those berry red lips again. Instead, drawing on willpower he hadn’t known he had, Carter stepped back. “Let me show you the rest of the chapel.”

Chapter 5

When they arrived back at the main hotel, Anna found the bride enjoying a massage in a private cabana on the beach, in spite of the dark storm clouds gathering along the horizon. The white chiffon decorating the sides flapped in the stiff breeze, tangling around Anna’s arms and waist.

“Fill me in on the chapel,” Kim greeted her as Anna freed herself from the trailing tendrils of fabric and stepped inside.

“The candlelight ceremony should be lovely.” Anna spent the next fifteen minutes discussing the wedding details with Kim. They’d just concluded a spirited discussion about flowers when Carter arrived.

“Ladies, I’m afraid we need to move you inside while this storm blows over.”

“I was just about to get my pedicure started.” Kim complained.

“I’m sure we can accommodate that inside, Ms. Waters,” Carter answered smoothly and with a big smile. He reminded Anna of nothing so much as Erin, all sweet politeness and steely determination. With a huff, Kim slipped into a robe and strode toward the back of the hotel without a backwards glance.

“You go on, Bella, I’ll store your table.” Carter waved off the masseuse just as the first raindrops studded the sand. Anna helped Carter fold the table and gathered up the discarded towels. He headed around the back of the massage pavilion to a cunningly concealed bamboo storage shack, Anna trailing behind.

Just as they reached the door, the heavens opened and the downpour began. Raindrops crashed against their skin like tiny, stinging pebbles as sheets of rain came down, obscuring even the back of the hotel. Carter secured the folded table against the back wall of the hut and grabbed Anna’s hand, pulling her inside, slamming the door shut against the force of nature outside.

They squeezed into the shed, next to piles of folded beach chairs and lounges. Carter grabbed a stack of clean beach towels off a shelf, handing several to Anna. She wrapped her drenched hair in one before pressing a second towel to her face. In less than a minute outside, she’d been soaked to the skin. She wrapped another towel around her shoulders before sitting next to Carter on the small floor space. They pressed against each other, hip to thigh as the rain battered the roof of the hut, darkening the interior to shadows.

“It’s just a squall. It should blow over soon.” Carter reassured her. “You get used to these living here but it always freaks out guests.”

“It’s okay.” Anna reassured him, squeezing the water out of her hair into a towel. “I always loved rain, especially when it’s all thunder and lightning like this. When I was here before, I freaked out my girlfriends by watching a storm from our balcony. I loved watching the way the lightning struck the water and lit up the sky.”

“It can be really beautiful,” Carter agreed, trailing his fingers through the sand gathered on the floor of the hut. “Sometimes we get really bad ones though. We had a hurricane flatten the place and had to totally rebuild.”

“That’s why everything looks so different then.” Anna said. “When I was here before, it seemed much more—umm—“

“Kitschy? Outdated? Singles bar gone haywire?” Carter suggested and Anna chuckled. “I convinced my grandfather to use natural materials and local artisans. I wanted to work with the environment, not against it.”

“You and your grandfather did an amazing job,” Anna said. “Were you always interested in eco-tourism?”

“No, I was never much interested in tourism of any sort,” Carter huffed out a laugh. “I wanted to be a soldier. I came here right after I got out of the military.”

“The military?”

“After I got out, I came here and drank a lot of rum. I was living the life of a beach bum,” Carter said, his voice grim. “But then my grandfather arrived on the island and dragged me off the floor of my hut. He told me I had to sober up or get out. He offered me a job. I told him that I didn’t want to be the manager of a second rate Caribbean resort. So he said I could be the janitor.”

Anna laughed. Though she’d only met Oliver for a few moments this morning, she could picture the old scoundrel saying exactly that. In the darkened hut, Anna couldn’t quite make out Carter’s facial expression. He was mostly just a shadow next to her. His warm thigh pressed against hers as they sat shoulder to shoulder on the floor of the narrow storage shed. Underneath the fresh scent of the rainwater, she caught the spicy scent of him but resolutely pushed away the torrent of memories that unleashed.

“So did you become the janitor?”

“I did. I worked my way up. Along the way, I took a few online courses and that’s when my interest in eco-tourism started. In a way, the storm gave me a clean slate to start from, rising from the ashes of disaster.”

“I understand that,” Anna nodded. After a few heartbeats of silence, she added, “I feel the same way actually.”

“What disaster befell you?”

“My divorce.” Anna blurted. Carter shifted next to her, his head inclined, still just a shadow. When he remained quiet, listening, she added, “I had my whole life carefully planned out. Marriage, career, babies. I thought I’d have teenagers by now. Instead…”

“Instead what?” Carter nudged her with his shoulder when she trailed off.

“Instead, I’m about to start my own interior design firm.” Anna confided. She’d never told anyone but Erin that but something about the pattering rain, the darkened hut, and this man beside her made her want to whisper confidences to him.

“Not going to be a bridesmaid anymore?”

“I’m getting a bit too old for it,” Anna shook her head. “So, much like you with your resort, I thought my divorce was the end of the world but it turned out to just be a new beginning.”

“Do you wish you’d stayed married instead?”

“God no. We were so young and stupid. We started dating our first week of college. After he got into graduate school, we got married and headed to Boston. We had nothing in common as adults, other than the shared memories of our past. It wasn’t enough. And he’s happy married to Erin.”

“Erin? Your boss Erin?”

“The very same,” Anna nodded. “She owns the professional bridesmaid business. She got started in Boston but after she met Matthew, she moved the business to Savannah. We kept running into each other at weddings in Savannah, often in the same wedding party, both as bridesmaids. I had a lot of sorority sisters. Eventually, she offered me a job. I took it so I could save up for my own firm.”

“That must have been weird, working so closely with your ex-husband’s new wife.”

“Maybe a bit, at first,” Anna agreed. “But now she’s one of my closest friends. Funny how life works.”

“Like you coming back to the island.”

He turned toward her, his eyes gleaming in the low light, the shimmering memories of all that had passed between them cascading through her mind. Years ago, they’d had a mad, passionate, primal connection. She’d spent many a lonely night indulging in memories of how blazing hot they’d been together.

But back then, she hadn’t known Carter. Now, as she got to know him, Anna found that she quite liked Carter, far more than the sum of his parts.

He leaned toward her and brushed his lips over hers, a slow, gentle kiss. They hadn’t taken the time for such niceties as kissing before. They hadn’t had time for sweetness. Then, it’d been all heat and wild, desperate oblivion.

But now, this gentle kiss undid her. Churning beneath lay the wild, the abandon, all the wicked things he could to her. But for now, the kiss was sweet, edging toward chaste.

And somehow, this sweetness was so much more lethal, so much more dangerous.

Before she could pull him against her, allow this wanton arousal to take over, Anna shifted away, biting her lip, unsure of what she wanted.

“The rain’s stopped,” Carter stood and extended a hand to help her up. “Better get back to it.”

Chapter 6

An hour before sunset, Carter helped his crew stack wood in the beach fire pit as the rest of his crew worked to set up the bonfire beach party Kim wanted to welcome her guests. Tonight was just the casual beach barbecue, instead of the elegant beach reception still to come. Still, Carter wanted every detail to be perfection. He carefully arranged oversized throw pillows a safe distance away from the campfire, resolutely ignoring the fact that the pillows were the exact color of Anna’s hibiscus dress.

He didn’t have time to think about Anna. He hadn’t seen her since his lapse of judgment in the bamboo shack. Despite his determination to ignore his attraction to her and to keep his focus on the wedding, he’d kissed her.

And the hell of it was, he wanted to do it again.

He wanted more than that. He wanted to get to know her better and to learn more about her as a person. He wanted to spend time with her and not just the way they had once before.

But, Carter didn’t indulge himself in wanton, reckless pleasure like that any longer. He simply worked too hard to have time to play or relax. His time with Anna was from another lifetime, full of endless sunsets and hedonism.

His grandfather’d given him a second chance. Now, it was up to Carter to make it work. And he vowed he would, no matter how tempting Anna was.

He’d just ignore it, he resolved for approximately the ten thousandth time as he pummeled the pillows, trying to fluff them into appealing shapes.

“What’d that pillow ever do to you?” His grandfather’s voice came from behind Carter.

“I thought you were minding the front desk,” Carter shook another set of pillows.

“Check-ins have slowed to a trickle now. Still no sign of the groom,” Oliver slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels, “I hope he hasn’t done a runner.”

“I’m sure he hasn’t,” Carter answered, still plumping pillows on his knees.

“If he’s met the bride, he may have,” His grandfather chuckled.

“She’s no more demanding than most guests.”

“She’s run your girl ragged today.”

“My girl?” Carter glanced over his shoulder at his grandfather.

“The hired gun bridesmaid lady.”

“Anna? She’s not my girl,” Carter protested.

“Sure, whatever you say,” Oliver chuckled and Carter ignored him as he stood and surveyed the scene.

Glowing lanterns dangled from the branches of the mango trees clustered around the cove they used for private dining events. Twinkling fairy lights wrapped around the palm trees. A long buffet table stretched along the back of the cove. Servers appeared from the hidden path in the trees, carrying heaping silver serving dishes to place on the table. A cluster of round tables, draped in snowy linen glowing blue in the dusk, sat to one side. Candles, sheltered by hurricane globes, burned in the center of the table, surrounded by flowers the color of the sunset that streaked across the sky, all oranges, pinks, and purples. Place settings decorated with seashells and starfish completed the look.

“Looks like a great party,” His grandfather patted his shoulder as the guests arrived, chattering and laughing together.

Anna stood in the center of the pack, helping a tiny woman with bright white curls make her way over the sand. Anna wore a flowing dress, pattered with blue and orange flowers. Though the dress was modest, covering her from neck to ankle, the breeze contoured it against her lush figure, revealing the curves beneath. A matching orange pashmina wrapped around her shoulders and her strappy shoes dangled from her free hand. As she bent to listen to her elderly companion, the last rays of the sunset caught the copper highlights in her hair. Anna really was lovely.

“You’re staring, son,” Oliver nudged him.

“Just going over final details,” Carter wrenched his gaze from Anna as he moved forward to welcome the guests.

The next hour or so passed in a busy blur as Carter worked to ensure that everything went off without a hitch. Every so often, he would catch a glimpse of an orange and blue flowered dress or hear Anna’s laugh over the chatter of the crowd but each time, he resolutely ignored it.

“Your girl hasn’t had a chance to eat yet,” Oliver handed Carter two plates piled high with food. “Why don’t you two grab a bite while I visit with her friend?”

“No flirting, old man.”

“Watch and learn,” Oliver teased as they approached Anna and her companion, seated in blue Adirondack chairs just to the side of the fire pit. Oliver introduced himself to the woman, who turned out to be Kim’s grandmother, Maxine. Though she had to have at least two decades on Oliver, when the old devil gallantly bowed and bussed the back of her hand with a kiss, she flushed a lovely rose color. Carter turned to Anna and held out a plate with a grin.

“Hungry?”

Anna took the plate as Oliver escorted Maxine toward the campfire, with the enticing promise of helping her find the best spot. They tottered away. Carter claimed Maxine’s chair and handed napkin wrapped silverware to Anna, carefully avoiding touching her fingers. He didn’t need to make things any harder on himself.

“Thanks for bringing this over. Looks great.”

“I’m starving,” Carter realized as he speared a chunk of grilled pineapple.

“Didn’t you eat before the event?”

“No, too busy setting up.”

“Rookie mistake. Always eat beforehand. You’ll rarely have time to eat at one of these events,” Anna waved her fork. “Erin always makes us tuck Larabars in our evening bags.”

“I’ll have to remember to stick one in my favorite beaded clutch,” Carter laughed before scooping up more coconut flavored rice.

“I’ve eaten many a Larabar in the best ladies rooms in Savannah as the bride refreshes her makeup,” Anna laughed. “Sometimes, when we all have events, we’ll meet up at our friend Shortie’s restaurant afterwards and he’ll make us omelets.”

“That’s pretty nice of him.”

“Abby, his fiancée, works at Always a Bridesmaid and he makes wedding cakes too.”

“I thought running the resort would prepare me for this but weddings are a whole separate level of stress.”

“You could hire a wedding planner to help,” Anna suggested. “Most of the big wedding places in Savannah have one. Makes our life easier.”

“You want a job?” Carter asked, just as Anna sampled the jerk chicken. She flushed, her eyes watering, and waved a hand in front of her mouth. “Too spicy for you?”

Carter dashed over to the drink table and returned with a glass of coconut milk. Anna swallowed the drink, tears still streaming from her eyes.

“My mouth is on fire,” Anna waved a hand in front of her flushed face, mopping at her eyes and nose. “This is not Savannah barbecue.”

“What’s Savannah barbecue taste like?”

“Sweet and smokey,” Anna answered. “Not like swallowing lava.”

Carter barked out a laugh. Her shawl slipped off her shoulder and he gently tugged it back into place, his fingers brushing against her shoulder, tracing the constellation of freckles blossoming there. Their gazes met and held in the flickering firelight, as shadows shifted on her face, the memory of their earlier kiss blossoming unbiddened between them. Carter wanted nothing more than to lean over and kiss her again.

“We’ve got a problem with going to see the turtles,” Oliver interrupted, shooting Carter a grin as they jumped apart.

“What turtles?” Anna asked, her voice still husky.

“It’s an excursion we do to the southern point of the island,” Oliver answered. “There not enough room in the boat for everyone. Bride’s cousin brought an unexpected plus-one. And her sister brought her kid.”

“I was going to go along, make sure it all ran smoothly,” Carter raked a hand through his hair.

“So you need two seats, right?” Anna asked Oliver who nodded. “Carter and I can stay here, everyone else goes. Problem solved.”

“Didn’t you want to see the turtles?” Carter asked.

Anna shrugged, “I did but it’s more important for the rest of the guests to have a fun time.”

“I’ll go talk to Captain Dave,” Carter started to rise but Oliver waved him back down.

“I’ll go find him. He’s probably holding down his end of the bar.”

He headed off with a wave as the bride approached, “Anna, I’ve decided I’d like to have favors.”

“Favors?” Anna blinked and then, tucking a loose tendril of dark hair behind her ear continued, “What were you thinking?”

“You know those little iced cookies you suggested? What if we did turtle ones? And maybe some hibiscus?”

“Well, the thing is, Kim, the cookie vendor is in Savannah,” Anna soothed gently. “I’m not sure we could get them here in time.”

“Can’t you make it happen?” Kim glanced between Carter and Anna.

“I know just the thing,” Carter smiled, even as he ground his teeth together. Kim headed back toward the campfire, just as the other guests gathered to construct s’mores.

“Do you really know just the thing?” Anna offered. “I might be able to get them expressed here.”

“While they’re off searching for turtles tomorrow, I’ll head over to the big island and see what I can do.” Before he could think the better of it, he turned to her, “Wanna come along?”

Chapter 7

At mid-morning the next day, Anna and Carter waved off the catamaran heading to Turtle Point before boarding the water taxi to the big island of St. Stephen. As soon as the wedding party eased out of sight, the tension along Anna’s shoulders loosened. For now, there was no demanding bride to tend to, no endless wedding details to contend with, and no pressing nuptial emergency. She could simply enjoy the warmth of the sun on her skin and the fresh, salt air. Anna claimed a seat on one of the benches along the side of the small skiff that skimmed the turquoise sea and surveyed the glorious horizon.

“It’s so unbelievably gorgeous here,” Anna said to Carter. “You must feel like you’re living in a postcard.”

“You get used to it,” he shrugged and sat next to her, his strong warm thigh pressed against hers. Underneath the sea air, she caught the scent of him, spicy and enticing. The sun flirted with the platinum highlights in his hair and made his tanned skin glow. Carter was quite simply one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen.

She remembered seeing him across the bar on the night they’d once spent together. She’d been in the middle of the dance floor, in the midst of a crush of her sorority sisters—women who she’d since played bridesmaid for and attended their baby showers while huddling in her carriage house apartment with only her electric blanket for company. She’d spotted Carter sitting at the bar. He’d sipped his long necked beer bottle, the lights of the club flashing over his face, creating mysterious hollows in his carved cheekbones. His hair had been much shorter then, his face more lean. But she distinctly remembered the shuddery lust that slammed through her as she watched him swallow his drink. He’d been sexy and dangerously compelling back then. But now that she’d gotten to know him a bit, he was even more alluring.

Carefully, Anna looked away, her heart hammering in her chest. When she was busy rushing about seeing to Kim’s endless demands, Anna could ignore her desire for Carter. Now, alone, with nothing to do but stare at the sea, her inconvenient lust surged through her. She shifted carefully away on the bench, gaining a few precious inches, pretending to peer at the harbor, and took a deep breath. Anna wasn’t brokenhearted any longer and she didn’t want just another empty sexual encounter. Since she’d be leaving Eden Isle in less than 48 hours, nothing could come of her attraction to Cater. It was best to simply ignore it, no matter how much the thought of leaving made her heart ache.

Eden Isle sat just a few hundred yards off the much larger island of St. Stephen. After a less than ten minute ride, they docked and made their way through the touristy marketplace area at the waterfront, not that crowded yet at mid-morning. At one stall, Anna trailed her fingers over a braided pearl necklace, imagining it on her friend Erin.

“I should get souvenirs for Erin and Abby,” Anna said.

Carter wrapped his hand around hers, twining their fingers together and tugged her away. “I’ll show you where to get the best deals after lunch, okay?”

Anna nodded and allowed him to tug her along. They strolled up the hilly streets, passed townhouses in pastel colors that reminded Anna of rows of Easter eggs, Carter never letting go of her hand, even after the crowds centered around the waterfront marketplace thinned out. They made their way past progressively larger houses until they came to a white picket fence surrounding a tiny pale pink house with black shutters. A profusion of flowers filled the front garden, from blossoming hibiscus in orange, red, pink and white, tall thin birds of paradise, bougainvillea, lilies, and fragrant frangipani.

“It’s like a doll’s house.” Anna exclaimed.

Carter nudged open the gate and led Anna along a brick path to the side of the house, tiny lizards skittering out of their path as they walked along. He knocked once on the door before simply opening it and walking in. Anna tried to tug her hand out of his but he pulled her inside to reveal a large sleek modern kitchen that ran the length of the house, full of stainless steel appliances and smelling like ginger and cinnamon.

“Wendy?” Carter called just as a slim woman with tawny skin bustled out of a side door, her arms overflowing with canisters of baking supplies.

“Thought you’d be here ages ago.” The woman, her movements quick and efficient, shifted to the tall counter running the length of the kitchen and began measuring ingredients into a large, stainless steel bowl. She turned and, after carefully donning large bright red oven mitts, pulled two racks of cookies from the double oven in the wall. She then resumed mixing, a blur of efficient motion. “I’m behind on my baking just for you.”

“I’m sure my grandpa appreciates it,” Carter soothed. “Wendy, this is my friend, Anna. She’s from Savannah. Wendy and my grandfather are close friends.”

“Welcome to the islands,” the woman smiled warmly at Anna, her deep dimples showing, as she waved toward a box on the counter. “I got your cookies all ready to go. Now shoo so I can get started on this batch.”

“Knew I could count on you,” Carter beamed. He peeked into the box and blinked. Anna raised on to her toes to peek into the box at the vaguely turtle shaped green cookies, each individually wonky. Carter bit his lip, “Well, they look sort of like turtles, if you squint.”

“We didn’t have many sea turtles in New York,” Wendy answered, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

“Wendy used to run a bakery in Park Slope.” Carter explained to Anna. “She retired here about a year ago.”

“A dog bakery,” Wendy clarified. Anna glanced at the racks of cooling cookies. This close, the shapes of dog bones and paw prints became apparent. “I’m not used to fussy icing cookies. Turtle cookies, what next?”

“They’ll be perfect,” Anna said, in her best soothing nervous brides tone. “She’ll love them.”

“You have any of those dog bones baked already?”

Wendy pointed at a shelf near the door and Carter plucked a small brown paper sack, tied with twine from a basket. He dug through his pockets and tossed a five dollar bill on the counter.

“Your money’s no good here, boy,” Wendy shook her head. “I’ll send the bill for the turtle cookies to your grandpa though. Can’t wait to hear what Oliver Prescott has to say about turtle cookies for the first wedding in Carter’s folly.”

“Send it to me, Wendy.” Carter ordered before leading Anna out of the house, Wendy’s laughter trailing behind.

Anna followed Carter through the maze of streets. He had his hands full with the bakery box full of treats. She missed the simple pleasure of holding hands as they strolled along together. They stopped outside a yellow shop, painted with green shutters. After handing her the bakery box, Carter tapped the gate and a pack of dogs came dashing over, tails wagging. Anna counted five as Carter distributed the dog treats among them. When the dogs were occupied, Carter took the bakery box back before heading for the front door.

“Hey, Karl!” Carter called as they entered a flower shop, the showroom bordered on three sides with refrigerated glass-front cases, humming loudly in the tiny shop. A young man slouched out of the back room and broke into a wide grin when he caught sight of Carter. They exchanged the same fist grab and shoulder slapping handshake she’d observed guy friends exchange in Savannah.

“Anna, my friend, Karl. Naomi is his sister,” Carter explained. “Anna’s from Savannah. She’s helping with the big wedding.”

“Naomi told me that the chapel is beautiful. She’s hoping to wrestle that no-account Jimmy up to the altar there before the baby arrives.”

“I told her she can use it any time.”

“Just gotta get him there.” Karl’s expression darkened.

“Got a few last minute changes for the flowers tomorrow,” Carter deftly changed the subject. Anna drifted around the tiny, charming shop, peering at the beautiful arrangements and trying to guess the different plants. Her grandmother used to love to garden but Anna didn’t inherit her ability. Still, she liked looking.

As Carter concluded his business she met him at the counter. Karl held out a blossoming hibiscus flower to her and Anna took it. She tucked it behind her ear as they left the shop. As they strolled down the street, Anna caught a glimpse of her reflection. Who was that smiling, happy girl with the flower in her hair? She felt much more relaxed and free than she did in Savannah, scurrying and hurrying from errand to appointment back home.

“So what were you thinking for souvenirs? Jewelry? T-shirts? Alcohol?” Carter asked.

“I think necklaces for Erin and Abby.”

“Who’s Abby?”

“She’s one of the other bridesmaids,” Anna answered. “T-shirts for the guys, I think. I saw some nice ones back at the hotel gift shop but I wanted something more personal for my friends.”

“Okay, I know just where to go.”

Carter led her back down toward the harbor, with a brief detour into an open air market. He wound his way through the tables to a small stall at the very back, laden with necklaces and piled with brightly colored fabrics. Colored glass wind chimes tinkled in the slight breeze, similar to the ones hanging in on the wedding chapel porch.

“Good morning, Linda!” He called to a young girl minding the shop. “Where’s Mama Rosemary this morning?”

“Home with her aching hips.” Linda answered.

“Tell her I hope she feels better,” Carter said. “This is Anna from Savannah and she needs some gifts to take home.” After a few moments thought, Anna found a braided freshwater pearl necklaces in shimmery peach for Erin and pale pink for Abby.

“Don’t you want anything for yourself?” Carter asked as Linda wrapped her purchases. “Linda helps her grandma design our wind chimes.”

“They’re gorgeous,” Anna complimented the girl. “Each one is unique.”

“You should get one to take home, Anna,” Carter bent close to suggest, his warm breath caressing her skin. “Pick one and I’ll buy it for you so you’ll have something to remember your time in Eden Isle.”

“I’ll remember.” Anna assured him. After all, she’d never forgotten her first trip to Eden Isle. “Besides, I’ve got nowhere to put it. I live in the carriage house behind my mom’s place.”

“I thought you were starting a design firm. You could hang it in your new office.”

“Which would just be my current living room.” Anna chuckled. “That’s okay.”

“If you’re sure?”

Anna nodded and they headed back towards the dock. Carter checked the time on his phone before saying, “The next ferry is in about fifteen minutes. We could grab some lunch from my favorite place and eat it onboard.”

“Sounds good.”

Carter led them to the waterfront, to a small hut the color of a Tiffany’s box. He ordered the food and chatted with the locals. Carter was comfortable as part of this island world, a lush paradise. He clearly loved it and belonged here.

Anna didn’t belong here. Though she wished she did, instead she’d go home to Savannah. But she didn’t think she’d ever feel as comfortable, as at home as Carter did here.

She’d made the mistake of marrying too young and when her starter marriage collapsed, she’d let her life freeze there. Her friends, all knee-deep in toddlers and onesies, had passed her by. She didn’t have much in common with them anymore. Life alone as a 34 year old divorcee was not what she’d had in mind.

But, she’d enjoyed today, this relaxing errand run with a handsome man. There was no use hoping for a future in it, if Carter would even want that with her. Anna pushed away the thought and focused on enjoying the moment.

They boarded the ferry back to Eden Isle, Anna carrying their lunch since Carter still carried the cookie favors. They found seats on the ferry and eagerly tucked into conch fritters, pastries stuffed with a spicy meat that Carter called patties, and johnnycakes. After they ate, Anna twisted her hair up in a loose bun to let the breeze cool her skin as the day had become warm.

“Thank for taking me with you, Carter,” Anna finally said. “I had a good time. It was nice to escape the bridal craziness for a bit.”

“They won’t be back until 4 and the rehearsal’s not until 6,” Carter said. “Wanna go for a swim? I know just the place.”

“Sounds great,” Anna agreed, not looking too closely at her desire to spend even more time in Carter’s company. “Let me go change and I’ll meet you at the pool.”

“I’ve got an even better idea.”

Chapter 8

After they disembarked onto Eden Isle, Carter commandeered one of the hotel golf carts parked near the dock. He secured their purchases in the cargo area and climbed in. Anna swung in next to him. Instead of turning toward the resort complex, he turned onto the narrow gravel road that wended through the interior of the island. They drove past a small cluster of villas, bougainvillea and other flowers trailing down the sides. Carter waved at several of the on-islanders but drove on.

Anna’s dress, a sky blue sundress printed with magnolia blossoms, flapped in the breeze, revealing several inches of her luscious tanned thighs before she hastily tugged it down. Carter pushed away the pure lust that slammed through him. He parked in front of his treetop cabin, in the shade of a gently swaying palm tree, and hopped out.

“What’s this?”

“My house.”

“You live in a tree house?” Anna followed him up the steps.

“Not exactly. It’s built into the side of the mountain.” Carter followed her onto the deck and waved at the horizon. “But I liked the view.”

“It’s amazing.” As Anna took in the view of the harbor far below, the sailboats bobbing in the mid-day sunshine and the endless horizon, Carter looked at her. He’d enjoyed spending the day with Anna and getting to know her, though he refused to look too deeply at what that meant. She was a mainlander, just here for a few days. Though he’d grown up in the rolling hills of Tennessee, Eden Isle had become first his refuge and now his home. He felt at home on the island, in a way he never had anywhere else. She would go. He would stay. Nothing could come of this simmering attraction between them.

Once upon a time, Carter enjoyed the constant influx of gorgeous women, arriving on Eden Isle and looking for nothing more a good time. Over time, he’d realized that those quick, often nameless encounters left him as empty and hollowed out as the booze did. After his grandfather’s intervention and the hurricane, Carter stopped indulging himself. He hadn’t even felt tempted in ages, as he’d been busy and preoccupied with his work.

But now, with Anna here, he wanted to indulge in a little fun. He took her hand. “Come on, I haven’t even shown you the best part yet.”

He led her through the house and up the indoor staircase. They walked past his bedroom and out another door, facing the back of his house. Outdoor stairs led to another landing and then a wide natural stone lip. He led her down stone stairs cut into the rock to a small grotto, where what he thought of as his own private pool lay hidden behind a waterfall.

“This is amazing.”

“Wanna swim?”

Anna plucked at her skirt, twining her fingers in it uncertainly, and then folded her arms over her midsection, shaking her head. He pulled his shirt off.

“Do you always swim naked here?”

“Usually. It’s pretty private,” Carter teased, waving a hand to encompass the stone walls around the shallow pool. The waterfall splashed into the lip, going over into a second shallow pool in the sunlight. “You can keep your undies on though.”

Her cheeks pinked and she glanced away as his trousers hit the ground. He tossed them on top of his discarded shirt. Usually, he swam without even his briefs but, since Anna was still chewing her lip uncertainly, he stepped into the pool and sank under the water to his shoulders.

Anna took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before grabbing the hem of her dress and yanking it over her head. She hesitated a moment before unclasping her bra and tossing it on top of the clothes pile, before covering her small breasts with her hands.

“Coming in?” Carter held out a hand to her but she stepped into the pool on her own, sinking to shoulder level to match him before removing her hands from her chest.

“The water is warmer than I thought it would be,” Anna commented. “It feels great.”

They bobbed together in the pool for a bit until Anna shivered a bit. “Want to go through the waterfall? The sun should have warmed the water out there more.”

She twined her fingers with his and he tugged them both through the waterfall. She laughed as the tumbling water drenched her hair and, losing some of her self-consciousness, tilted her shoulders back and dipped her head to drench her hair. She straightened again, the water beading on her skin and dripping down her chest. She looked like a goddess or a water nymph, all enticing sensual pleasure. Carter’s mouth ran dry and he wrenched his gaze away.

“What a view from here too,” Anna said and Carter wondered if he imagined the slight huskiness in her voice. “You should have built the resort up here.”

“No room for a resort,” Carter answered. “But, if I get my way, this is the future of Eden Isle. We own all this land and the natural pools. If we could just build villas here, I think we could attract tourists looking for something a bit different.”

“I can see that,” Anna nodded. “The wedding pavilion is just the beginning of your plans then?”

“My grandfather doesn’t see the potential,” Carter said. “He wants it to be a luxurious escape.”

“Feels pretty luxurious to me,” Anna smiled.

They shifted constantly to keep from bumping into each other as the current in the pool eddied around them. He realized how close they were, crouched together in the pool. Anna’s foot slipped on a rock and he steadied her with a hand on her hip. His simple touch sparked the banked desire they’d danced around all day to flame. Her dark gaze met his, her hands sliding up his biceps as she stepped closer to him.

He waited, allowing Anna to take the lead. She tilted her head, her lips brushing over his, a gentle, soft kiss, once and then again. She wrapped her legs around his waist as they pressed against each other, the kiss turning heated but still slow exploration.

When they bumped against the wall, Anna lifted her head, fighting to catch her breath, as Carter’s hand skimmed up her sides. They pressed together from shoulder to waist, his skin warm in the cool water, as they rocked together, all but naked.

“Wanna go upstairs?” He whispered, his eyes dark with lust and his lips swollen from her kisses. Anna nodded, surrendering to her body’s urgent, insistent demand for this man.

They swam back through the waterfall together, stopping to kiss again on the other side but the much colder water chased them both out. Carter popped open a plastic storage container near the stairs and retrieved two over large beach towels, printed with the Eden Isle logo. He handed her one before wrapping one around his waist. She wrapped herself in it and slid off her sodden underwear. They gathered their clothing and dashed back up the stairs. On their way through the house, Anna saw a wide, king sized bed that she couldn’t wait to explore with Carter.

When they reached the deck though, Anna paused at the railing overlooking the gorgeous panorama below.

“I can picture it, villas peeking from the treetops, enjoying the view, but still compatible with nature,” Anna said, wishing she could see it in real life. “It will be beautiful, Carter.”

“Right now, it’s just me that sees the potential though.”

“And me.”

Anna huddled in a towel as the breeze dried her skin. With courage she didn’t know she had, she dropped the towel and let the breeze caress every inch of her. Carter stepped up behind her, his hard warmth along her bare back and his hands at her waist, for a heartbeat, than another.

Despite their heated kiss at the pool, he waited for her to make the next move. Slowly, Anna leaned back, until her bare shoulders pressed against the silky skin of his muscled chest. He nuzzled her neck, dropping kisses along her shoulders, as his warm hands slid up her sides to cup her breasts. He caressed the sensitive undersides until her nipples stiffened to hard, aching points before slowly circling the tips with his thumbs.

Her breathing ragged, Anna started to turn toward him but he dropped one hand to her hip to hold her in place. His evident arousal pressed against her bottom, but he tended to her first.

She dropped her head onto his shoulder, a low moan escaping as his fingers brushed the curls at the apex of her thighs. She shifted her feet, opening for him, and he skimmed his clever fingers over her heat. Anna tilted her face toward him, her eyes falling shut as he traced clever patterns over her most sensitive spot, slick with desire for him. When her knees weakened with desire, she grabbed the smooth wooden railing in front of her to hold herself up.

He expertly stoked her desire for him, each gently circle of his fingers bringing her closer, as his other hand teased her sensitive breasts. Carter dipped his fingers into her, his thumb still teasing her, as tension coiled in Anna. Finally, he captured her mouth with his just as she released in long spasms around his fingers.

He supported her weight as her breathing slowed. Anna opened her eyes, wrapping her fingers around his and tugging him toward that inviting bed. Just as they stepped through the door, his phone trilled. Carter ignored it at first, kissing her deeply but the phone beeped again.

“Yeah?” Carter answered, his breathing ragged as he raked a hand through his still wet hair. “Fine, I’ll be right there.”

“They’re heading back in a bit early. Kim wants to relax before the rehearsal.” Carter’s face was a picture in frustration. “Can we resume this later?”

“Weddings can be inconvenient like that,” Anna nodded.

He pulled her close and gave her a quick, smacking kiss. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Chapter 9

Later turned into the next day because by the time they got back to the hotel, the groom had finally arrived with three extra guests. After spending the rest of the afternoon and evening coping with last minute crisis after crisis, by the time Anna fell into bed that night, she was far too exhausted to do more than fall instantly into a dreamless sleep. The following day, Anna spent waiting on Kim hand and foot while Carter rushed around, ensuring that every last detail was perfection.

About a half-hour before sunset the next day, Anna took her place in front of the bride, clutching a stunning bouquet of tropical flowers in her hands. As the music swelled and guests found their seats, she waited at the back of the church, standing next to Carter who manned the doors.

“Finally, a wedding in your beautiful chapel,” Anna whispered to him. Inside the chapel, the sunset bathed the chapel in a rosy glow and streamed through the stained glass windows, splashing everything with jewel tones, augmented by the soft candlelight. “It’s beautiful, Carter. You should be really proud.”

“You look gorgeous,” Carter whispered back, his heated gaze on her. She smiled at him, the memory of yesterday coloring her cheeks. “Save me a dance later?”

Anna nodded and, as she’d done countless times before, strode down the aisle at the start of the processional. Just as she stepped forward, her heel snapped. Carter caught her as she wobbled. Under her dress, Anna kicked her ruined heels off and stepped forward as Carter scooped them up to hide behind his back. Anna grinned inwardly at what a good team they made.

The wedding, pictures, and reception passed in a happy blur. Anna saw Carter several times but could exchange no more than pleasantries as they worked to give the bride a gorgeous wedding.

Finally, an hour after midnight, the bride tottered toward her bed. As she started up the path, Kim turned back to Carter with a wide smile. “Thanks for making it amazing. There’ll be a 5 bouquet review in Happily Ever After next month but, even better than that, I’ll put it in my Kim recommends column. You’ll be booked solid by this time next year.”

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it,” Carter answered. He waited until Kim was out of sight to pick Anna up in a jubilant bear hug.

“We did it. Anna, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Anna smiled down at him and cupped his face as she gave him a quick, congratulatory kiss, tasting of bubbly champagne and sweet wedding cake.

“Not so fast,” Carter whispered as he lowered her so her feet brushed the sand.

“I’ve been waiting over a day for you to kiss me again,” Anna complained.

“Impatient, are we?” Carter brushed her mouth again. “We haven’t had our dance yet.”

“There’s no music,” Anna laughed.

Dance after they wave the wedding couple off, the only music the slap of the waves against the sand and the pounding of her heart.

“Come see the sunrise with me?” Carter whispered against her mouth.

Yesterday, she’d been swept away with the romance of it all. Totally in the moment. Heady with the indulgence of a day to herself. Now, she had to make a conscious choice.

Slowly, Anna twined her fingers with his. “Come on, my room is closer.”

They slipped into the hotel and into the elevator without any one seeming to notice. In the elevator, he kissed her, cupping her face with trembling fingers. Carter made her feel treasured, wanted, desired and the knowledge of that made Anna bold and a little wild. She nipped at his lower lip, wresting a deep groan from him.

Their clothing became an irritant between them, as they stumbled down the endless corridor to her room, unwilling to part from each other for even a second, their desire too long denied.

They tumbled into her room. He tugged his shirt off as she opened the French doors leading to her wide patio, letting in the sound of the surf pounding on the beach. Carter traced his fingers over her bare shoulders before locating the hidden zipper in her blue bridesmaids dress. It tumbled to the ground in a froth of chiffon and she stepped out of it.

He fumbled with his belt as she grabbed a strip of condoms out of her travel bag, tossing them on the bed. She pushed away the thought of what that packed travel bag meant. She’d leave in just a handful of hours. He’d stay.

They had only this moment.

Clad in only a scrap of lacy panties, Anna pulled Carter against her, tugging his head down for another of those deep, drugging kisses. Together, they tumbled onto the bed, desperate and needy for each other, too crazed to make their pleasure last. Carter trailed his fingers over her skin as Anna curved her leg around his hip, arching into him.

Carter rocked against her, ready and eager, as he stroked her, his big hands warm and gentle. He nipped her lower lip, before sliding his tongue over the sting and exploring her mouth. Dizzy, overwhelmed, Anna licked her way down his neck as she slid her palms down his flat stomach to cup him and stroke him to readiness. When she wrapped her hand around him, Carter’s head fell back, his breathing ragged and his eyes slipping closed as he made a small sound that might have been her name.

Too eager to wait any longer, Anna straddled him and reached out, to grab one of the foil packets on the bedside table. He kissed his way down her neck, over the tops of her breasts, as he caressed her thighs; slowly moving toward her center. She rocked against his fingers as he circled her, teasing her, as she struggled to cover him with the condom. Desperate to feel him inside her, she guided him to her entrance and sank down on him. Her eyes fluttered shut as he filled her. Their hands laced together as they found their rhythm, hot, fast, hard, and a little wild. He sat up, so they pressed together from shoulder to waist, as he trailed kisses along her neck, his breath hot and his hands demanding. He nipped her earlobe, making her groan. She rode him hard and fast as they thrust together, each chasing their own climax.

Anna groaned his name as she fell apart in his arms, her release spiraling through her in little bursts of light. In just a few more thrusts, Carter followed her over the edge into bliss. Breathing hard, they clutched each other, their sweat-slicked skin sticking together but neither wanting to let go first. Anna dropped her head to his broad shoulder and struggled just to breathe.

“Worth the wait,” Carter groaned as he shifted to the side. He rid himself of the condom and climbed back into bed, gathering her close. They stared out the window at the moonlight dancing on the water as their breathing slowed.

“I’m exhausted but I don’t want to sleep,” Anna whispered. “I have to leave in a few hours.”

Carter brushed his lips over her bare shoulder and whispered, so softly that she could barely hear him over the waves. “You could stay.”

“Stay?” Anna’s heartbeat picked up again, pulsing widely in her throat.

“I need a wedding planner. You’ve more than proven that you’re up to the task.”

“I’m done with weddings,” Anna swallowed hard against the disappointment. She’d wanted him to ask her to stay because of her but that was silly. She didn’t know this man, not really. She couldn’t possibly be in love with him so fast. Anna shut her eyes, very worried that her foolish heart might have gone right ahead and fallen. “I’m going to start my own design firm.”

“Fine. I’ll hire you to design the treetop villas,” Carter stroked her side, his hand warm on the curve of her hip. “I need an eco-tourism conscious designer. I happen to know one.”

“The villas your grandfather won’t give you the money to build?”

“He will though, eventually,” Carter argued, even as he cupped her breasts, his hardness pressing against the back of her thigh.

“And you’d waste your money on an unknown, new firm?”

“You’re not unknown to me,” Carter answered, his hand now stroking her belly, slow circles that teased and comforted at the same time. He nuzzled her neck.

Anna rolled onto her back to look up at him. “You’re serious?”

“Of course I am,” Carter dropped a kiss on her nose. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

He dipped his head to kiss her then but she pushed back on his shoulders, her heart thrumming in her chest. Stay here? With Carter? “I can’t just run off to the islands.”

“Why not?” Carter asked. “Just stay.”

“But—“ He covered his mouth with hers, rolling on top of her and effectively delaying their argument. After he loved her again, slowly and thoroughly this time, he fell asleep, his arm tossed over her while she lay, staring at the endlessly undulating waves until dawn pinked the horizon.

She crept from the bed and slipped into the bathroom to shower and dress, his single word request drumming through her mind with every heartbeat. Stay. Stay. Stay.

Anna wanted to stay. What did she really have holding her to Savannah? She could start her business from here, in this gorgeous place, with the gorgeous man asleep in her bed.

She couldn’t just up and move, could she? Anna had never been spontaneous, all her life she’d planned carefully and meticulously, taking each challenge step-by-step. After her marriage crumbled, she carefully rebuilt her life from the rubble and moved on.

But had she, really? She’d run home to Savannah and taken refuge in the carriage house. She hadn’t really taken any risks. Starting her own firm would be risk enough. She couldn’t run off to the islands too.

Of course, a little voice in the back of her head that sounded an awful lot like Erin counseled her, she could move here temporarily. Just to see. Just to take the chance.

Just weeks after Erin met Matthew, she’d uprooted herself and her business to move to Savannah. Now, Always a Bridesmaid was thriving and flourishing.

Anna needed to think, to consider, to plan. She could always come back.

Could she though? Would a man as wonderful as Carter just wait for her? Should she take her second chance while she could?

No closer to a decision, Anna dressed and exited the bathroom. Carter lay, facedown on the bed, the rumpled sheets tossed over him. She would like nothing more than to just climb into that bed, curl up next to him, and stay. But Anna just couldn’t take that big of a risk. She grabbed her suitcase and carefully opened the door to the hall.

“Sneaking out without saying goodbye?” Carter rasped. He sat up, the sheet pooling around his waist, and raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll drive you to the ferry.”

“That’s okay. You sleep in,” Anna pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and stepped back. “Goodbye, Carter.”

Chapter 10

“What has you so grumpy?” Oliver Prescott asked that afternoon. “Figured you’d be happy finally pulling off a wedding in that chapel of yours.”

“Yep, it went great.” Carter answered, keeping his head down as he concentrated on reviewing the check-ins for the afternoon rush. His buddies in the military always assured him that working was the anecdote to heartbreak. Carter wasn’t so sure. It didn’t seem to be helping so far.

“So, if it went so great, how come you’re like a bear with a sore paw?”

“Just tired,” Carter answered.

“Just missing your bridesmaid more like,” Oliver chuckled.

“She’s not my bridesmaid,” Carter answered tonelessly.

“Could’ve fooled me. You could barely take your eyes off her last night.”

Carter tapped keys on the computer. “You gonna tell me what happened or do I have to guess?”

“Nothing happened,” Carter snapped. Oliver’s eyebrows went up. “She went home to Savannah, I stayed here.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Look, I asked her to stay and she said no. End of story.”

“And you’re just going to let that be the end of the story?” Oliver demanded. “Seems to me you already let her walk out of your life once. You gonna do it again?”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“We’ve got this newfangled invention called the phone. They even have them in Savannah,” Oliver said. “You could do whatever the kids are doing and send a twit or fax or what have you.”

“Really up on the technology, huh, Gramps?” Carter grinned at him.

“I’m just saying that that girl made you happy. Content. You fit together. Work well together. But you’re going to let all that go because you’re too chicken to call or write.”

“She left,” Carter pointed out, his voice sounding sulky even to his own ears.

“So she did. And you might write or call and she might not be interested.”

“You should have a lonely hearts advice column,” Carter rolled his eyes like a surly teenager.

“So, she might not want to hear from you and, if that’s the case, you’d respect that. I raised you to have manners,” Oliver said. “But then again, having seen the way you two mooned over each other, I think she might be mighty glad to hear from you.”

“Maybe,” Carter focused on the computer screen, fighting not to get his hopes up, when a jangle of tinkling glass against metal made him look up.

Anna stood across from the front desk, holding up a wind chime. “Thought of a place to hang it.”

“Where?”

“On that back deck at your house,” She tilted her chin up as Carter rushed around the desk to sweep her into his arms. “I got over to the main island and was just walking around, waiting for my cab to the airport. I walked into the marketplace and saw these and…well…I decided to stay.”

Carter dropped a kiss on her smiling mouth, “Welcome back to Eden Isle.”

And one year later, they celebrated another wedding at the chapel, having to squeeze it in between bookings. Anna, wearing a batik sundress the color of the Caribbean sea outside, strolled down the aisle to him, her hair a nimbus of wild curls around her head, barefoot, to be his bride.

About the Author

Courtney Hunt writes smart, funny contemporary romances featuring strong heroines and the sexy heroes who steal their hearts.

In addition to her award-winning novel, The Lost Art of Second Chances, her work includes the light-hearted Always a Bridesmaid series and the heartwarming Cupid’s Coffeeshop series.

An attorney by day, Courtney lives outside Washington, DC with her own Prince Charming and their son.

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Finding Cory

A Sunfish Island Resort story

Caitlyn Lynch

Olivia Stratten wasn’t thinking about romance when she accepted a job as marketing director for a resort island on Australia’s Great Barrier Reef. She just wanted to get far, far away from New York and her ruined career. Activities director Cory Gillette is the kind of man who is hard to resist, though, and Olivia finds that maybe she doesn’t want to resist anyway…

Chapter 1

The incredible heat surprised Olivia as she stepped off the plane and walked down the steps to the tarmac. It was just like being slapped in the face with a hot, wet towel. She broke out in a sweat almost instantly and considered pausing to take off the jacket to her pantsuit, but the terminal was just a few steps away and the promise of air conditioning beckoned. Shouldering her laptop bag, she made rapidly for the doors.

Since she'd come in on a domestic flight from Sydney, she didn’t have to clear international customs. After collecting her suitcase, she made her way to the greeting area and looked hopefully around.

Almost everyone who'd been on the flight with her were tourists, and they were making their way to several tour group and resort signs being held up around the area. Olivia bit her lip, wondering if she should head for the brightly colored sign proclaiming the legend SUNFISH ISLAND RESORT with the tourists going in that direction, or if there was a different protocol for newly arrived staff.

Not seeing anyone holding up a sign with her name, she shrugged mentally and headed on over. A pretty Chinese girl holding the sign and a clipboard smiled at her, though the smile turned quizzical as she took in Olivia's designer pantsuit and high-heeled pumps, a far cry from the comfortable holiday wear the tourists sported.

"Hi, I'm Jill! Your name, please?"

"Olivia Stratten."

Jill glanced down automatically at her clipboard before her head snapped back up. "Wait, you're the new marketing manager!"

"I am." Olivia smiled.

"Welcome, it's lovely to meet you!" Jill shoved her clipboard under her arm to pump Olivia's hand enthusiastically. "Sorry we didn't have a specific sign for you—well, we did, actually. Rosie was gonna hold it but it turns out that her boyfriend was the co-pilot on your flight and it's turning around and going back to Sydney in an hour so she went to try and see him for a few minutes."

Olivia blinked at the sudden gush of information delivered in a broad Australian accent. She'd only been in the country for a week and still struggled to pick up all the words when the locals talked quickly. She was pretty sure she'd gotten the gist, though, and nodded.

"That's alright. I hope she got some time with him."

Jill rolled her eyes. "Guy's a prick with a girl in every town. I keep trying to tell Rosie, but she's blinded by the whole airline-pilot-glamor thing."

"That's still a thing?"

"Considering how much pilots get paid, yeah," Jill said with a wry twist of her lips. "Here she is now."

Olivia turned to see another young woman hurrying toward them. She was a little taller than Jill and about Olivia's height, brown-haired, and very tanned. Her white teeth flashed in her brown face as she smiled.

"Hi, you must be Olivia! I'm Rosie, the staff manager at the resort. It's lovely to meet you!"

Charmed by the friendly, unaffected greetings from two women Olivia guessed were both around her own age of twenty-nine, Olivia smiled back at them. "It's lovely to be here. So different from New York." She'd left home in chilly, dark October, when the city seemed shrouded in gloom as winter approached. Sydney had been quite a shock to the system, warm and bright, green with spring growth. North Queensland was hot and far more humid. When she’d looked out of the plane window as it came into land, the view had been all turquoise water and sand-rimmed tropical islands.

"I reckon," Jill said with a laugh in her voice, giving Rosie a glance Olivia couldn't interpret before she turned away to see to the tourists awaiting her attention.

"Jill's our guest relations manager," Rosie said, gesturing for Olivia to follow her. Grasping her suitcase handle, Olivia obeyed, and Rosie led her out of the terminal to a golf cart parked outside and helped her hoist her case into the back.

"We'd go on the bus with the others, but it's full. We've got a lot coming in off this flight." Rosie hopped into the driver's seat. "So I borrowed this off a friend at the marina."

"Is that far from here?" Olivia hung onto the side of the golf cart as Rosie mashed the accelerator pedal flat to the floor and they took off at a surprisingly high speed.

"Not at all! Only a couple of minutes!" Rosie zoomed past another golf cart, narrowly missing an oncoming minibus. Olivia gave up and shut her eyes.

"Oh come on, you're used to New York traffic. My driving can't terrify you that much!" Rosie snickered.

"You'd make a very good cab driver," Olivia agreed, cracking an eye open as they slowed. Seeing boat masts in front of them, she relaxed, realizing they must be at the marina. "Which is all I ever took in New York. Generally, the subway is much faster anyway, so I mostly rode that."

"I think I'll take that as a backhanded compliment," Rosie snickered. "Well, you can drive next time, if I'm scaring you that much. Jill never lets me drive…."

"I can see why, but I don't have a lot of choice. I've never learned to drive."

"Really?" Rosie looked startled at that before casting her a cheeky grin. "Well. Technically you don't need a license to drive one of the resort golf carts. I won't tell if you don't."

Olivia had to laugh at that, getting out of the cart. "Is this the boat?" She looked at the catamaran yacht they'd parked behind.

"No, no. This belongs to my friend. Thanks, Matt!" Rosie yelled at the boat before heading around to the back of the cart to heft Olivia's suitcase out again. "We're just going along there."

"Oh." Olivia felt quite foolish. Lovely though the catamaran was, and obviously valuable, it looked minuscule compared to the magnificent motor-yacht at which Rosie had just pointed. "Wow."

"The resort has three of those; we use them for airport transfer, inter-island transfer, and our own dive-and-snorkeling tours," Rosie informed her. "They're brand-new. The new owners bought them after they finished the refurbishment last year."

"Impressive," Olivia said, taking in the boat as they walked closer. "Several million dollars, I'd say."

"No expense spared," Rosie agreed with a nod. "Everything on Sunfish Island is like that. You'll see. But the island was run-down for quite a few years before the new owners bought it and spent a fortune to do it up."

"Which is why you need me." Olivia nodded. She specialized in relaunching refurbished hotels. She'd originally applied for the job assuming she'd be based in New York, but the resort owners insisted she needed to be on-site. They'd hired her on a full-year contract and paid all travel expenses, and accommodation was included. It was the job of a lifetime.

"That's right." Rosie nodded. "Hey! Cory! Get down here and help carry Olivia's suitcase!"

"God, you're so bossy," a deep voice rumbled with a laugh, and Olivia looked up to see a tall figure silhouetted against the sun, standing on the boat's upper deck. She blinked, dazzled by the glare behind him.

"This is Cory Gillette, our activities manager," Rosie said as the man vaulted over the rail. He landed on the lower deck in front of them before walking down the short ramp separating the boat from the dock. "Cory, Olivia Stratten, our new marketing guru."

"Nice ta meetcha," he rumbled before bending and picking up her suitcase as though it weighed nothing.

Olivia could only stare speechlessly as Cory turned and walked back onto the boat. He looked as though he'd just stepped off an advertising billboard; tall, blond, and blue-eyed, he had a deep bronze tan and shoulders so broad they strained the seams of his polo shirt. Her gaze slid down his back involuntarily as he walked back up the ramp with her suitcase.

Cory's ass in tight khaki shorts was so spectacular she barely heard Rosie's "Come on, let's get aboard before the guests arrive."

"Ngh," Olivia said somewhat incoherently, still staring, but Rosie promptly cut off her view as she headed up the ramp in front of Olivia. Still thoroughly distracted and trying to peer around Rosie to get another look at that incredible back view, she followed Rosie up the ramp without watching her footing.

Which turned out to be an epically huge mistake.

The ramp was made of a pierced steel grating, and with Olivia's first full step onto it, her spiked high heel went straight through and jammed. Thrown completely off balance, she teetered, clutched for a nonexistent handrail, lost her balance completely, and toppled head-first into the murky waters of the harbor. The last thing she heard before the surprisingly warm waters of the harbor closed over her head was Rosie's shriek of horror.

She might never have learned to drive, but she had certainly learned to swim. After a brief panicky flail, she righted herself and kicked back up to the surface, clamping her lips tight and holding her breath. Her head broke the surface and she heard....

Not more shrieks of horror, but a deep guffaw of laughter.

Cory was leaning off the boat, extending a tanned hand in her direction, and absolutely laughing his ass off.

Cheeks flaming, utterly humiliated, Olivia accepted the offered hand. It wasn't as though she had much choice, after all. As far as she could see, she had no other way to get up to the boat.

Despite his chortles, Cory pulled her up as easily as he'd carried her suitcase, his other hand hooking around her waist when he’d raised her high enough to lift her aboard and set her on her feet. Her bare feet.

"I think this is yours," he said through his laughter, bending down to pull her shoe out of the ramp and offer it to her.

"Those were Jimmy Choos," Olivia said pathetically, accepting the shoe from his hand even as she mourned the loss of the other one, now no doubt sinking in the silt at the bottom of the harbor.

Cody laughed so hard he had to sit down on the deck.

"You're such an asshole," Rosie was at least trying to suppress her giggles, and making a fair job of it, as she dealt a slap to the back of Cody's head. "Are you alright, Olivia?"

She blew out her cheeks, looking down at her ruined five-hundred-dollar pantsuit, the single shoe nestled in her hand. And then she blinked. "Oh my God. My bag!"

"You had a bag... your laptop bag!" Rosie stared at her in horror.

They both peered down into the murky water.

"How deep is it?" Olivia asked.

"About eight feet." Cory finally managed to suppress his laughter. "And no, I am not diving down to look for it."

Olivia shot him a fulminating glare. "Don't put yourself out. I'll get it myself." Handing Rosie her shoe, stripping off her soaked suit jacket and tossing it aside, she dived neatly off the edge of the boat.

Chapter 2

"Now that I didn't expect," Cory admitted, peering down after her. "D'you think I should go in?"

"I think she wouldn't have dived in if she wasn't quite confident she could do it," Rosie said thoughtfully. "And frankly I think you'd be better served here to pull her out again when she comes back up."

Cory started counting under his breath, though, deciding that if Olivia hadn't surfaced after sixty seconds, he was going in after her. He'd reached fifty-four when her head broke the surface again.

"Did you get it?" Rosie called. Gasping for breath, Olivia nodded, holding the strap up in triumph. Rosie grabbed the bag while Cory hauled Olivia out again.

"There was no need for that," he chided. "Seriously, all your electronics will be wrecked already."

"I know that." She cast him a scornful look. "All my data is backed up to the cloud anyway. I just didn't want to lose my passport. It'd be an absolute pain to get a new one." Taking the bag from Rosie, she opened the front flap and pulled out a small, flat purse that contained her passport, credit cards, and some Australian cash. The money was plastic and would be perfectly usable once it dried out; the passport she was a little more concerned about, but it was worth trying to dry it out. The stamps and work visa were still readable, at least.

"Well, at least it'll be easier to get a replacement for a wrecked one than replace a lost one," Rosie said positively, and Olivia cast her a grateful look. "Plus, you've got about a thousand dollars there! I'd have dived into the harbor for that alone."

"Tell me you didn't drop your bag into the harbor and dive in after it," a laughing voice said behind them, and Olivia turned to see that Jill and her busload of guests had arrived.

"Nah, she got one of her snazzy heels caught in the ramp and took a header," Cory said, and it was more than evident that Jill wanted to fall about laughing as she pressed her lips together, eyes glinting with mirth. Instead, she shook her head and turned back to escorting the guests aboard. They all got a guiding hand from Jill or the man who'd arrived with her, Olivia noticed a bit jealously. Letting a paying guest fall in the harbor would be bad for business, after all.

A light tug at her wrist made her turn back to Rosie. "It's a half-hour trip to the island. You'll be way more comfortable in dry clothes." Rosie pointed at her suitcase. "There's only a tiny bathroom, but at least you can change."

Grateful for the suggestion, Olivia nodded. She and Rosie retreated to the rear corner of the boat's main cabin while Cory and the other man pulled in the ramp and cast off the lines. Someone else must be upstairs driving the boat, Olivia surmised as huge engines started up and they slid away from the dock.

Another reason to be glad she'd decided to retrieve her bag, Olivia thought as she dug out the key for her luggage lock and opened her suitcase. She had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach that absolutely everything she’d brought with her was far too glamorous. Though this was a five-star, premium resort, even the guests were more casually dressed than the most casual outfit she owned.

"Wow," Rosie breathed in astonishment, staring into the case as Olivia took a couple of things off the top layer and set them aside. "You have really nice clothes."

"Nobody in New York takes you seriously if you're not wearing a designer label," Olivia said with perfect honesty. "I feel like I'm going to be very overdressed, though." She looked at Rosie's cotton shorts, tank top, and rubber flip-flops. "I don't even own a pair of shoes without high heels."

That made Rosie laugh. "You'll be better off barefoot! Almost all the paths on the island are sand; you'd sink in." Lightly fingering the hem of a silk Mossimo dress, she said tentatively, "I have several spare pairs of thongs, and lots of casual gear. We're about the same size. You're welcome to borrow anything you like... if I could maybe borrow one of these gorgeous dresses to wear to the staff Christmas party?"

The Mossimo dress probably cost more than Rosie's entire wardrobe, Olivia knew, but the friendly overture was too kind to ignore. "You're on. But what are thongs? Because I don't think you mean what I understand by thongs...."

Rosie laughed and explained that thongs was Australian for flip-flops, as Olivia picked out the least dressy thing she could find, a Roberto Cavalli printed jersey dress. At least she had one pair of heels that weren't stilettos, she thought with relief as she dug out her favorite cream linen wedges. Thank you, Kate Middleton, for making these a fashion statement.

There was nothing really to be done for her hair; she looked like a drowned rat and there were only paper towels to be found in the tiny bathroom. She washed her face and twisted her hair up into a wet knot atop her head; that would have to do. The light was too poor—and she had too little time—to do a lot about her makeup, but at least she could get rid of the raccoon-like circles under her eyes from her running eyeliner.

"Wow," Rosie breathed as Olivia returned a few minutes later. "How did you do that? You look like a million bucks again!"

Olivia smiled, warmed by the other girl's open friendliness and kind words. "Thanks, Rosie. I was feeling a bit like the Swamp Thing."

"Maybe the Creature from The Black Lagoon?" Cody sniped as he walked past. Rosie whacked at his legs, and he evaded her hand with a laugh. Olivia glared at his retreating back. The guy might be gorgeous, but what an asshole!

"Don't mind Cody, he's a total troll," Rosie said, rolling her eyes.

"I think you're being insulting to trolls," Olivia quipped back, and they laughed. Despite the disaster of her unplanned dip in the harbor, Olivia relaxed. At least she'd have one friend at Sunfish Island Resort, she thought as Rosie leaned across her to point out the window and tell her that they were just about to round the southern tip of the island.

Rosie held Olivia back until the guests had all disembarked. The other man took her suitcase with a friendly grin.

"Tell the porter to take it to 6B, please, Jack," Rosie told him.

"Sure thing." He gave Rosie a casual salute. "And welcome to Sunfish, Olivia."

At least everyone was very friendly, Olivia mused as she followed Rosie, who trailed after the last of the guests. Cory stood by the ramp, offering his hand to her in an exaggerated gesture, his blue eyes glinting with mirth.

She debated giving him a shove into the water. It was a very, very tempting thought... and it was also petty and beneath her. She swallowed the impulse and took his hand, letting him steady her as she crossed the ramp.

"Thanks," she muttered grudgingly.

"You're welcome. And... I'm sorry I wasn't there to help you before."

Startled, her gaze flew up to meet his. He looked quite sincere, and his hand was warm and strong as he held on to her for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Olivia Stratten," a voice said, thankfully obviating her need to think of something to say to Cory's unexpected remark. She let go of his hand and turned to see a handsome man in what she guessed was his early forties and actually wearing a business suit, albeit with an open-necked shirt and no tie. "It's good to meet you. I'm Luke Collyer, the resort general manager." He took in her dripping hair with a curious glance but said nothing about it as he offered his hand for a friendly shake.

"It's very nice to meet you, Mr. Collyer." They'd communicated by email after the resort owners had hired her, and his ideas and incisive manner had impressed Olivia.

"Luke, please. We're not formal here at Sunfish."

She smiled in acknowledgment, following him along the shaded dock and into the hotel's main lobby.

"Wow." Olivia's head tipped up. The atrium was amazing, five stories high with a domed glass roof, and live palm trees growing in gigantic stone pots. Water trickled from stunning fountains and ran underneath shining plate-glass panels in the floor. There were fish in there, she realized, as one swam directly under her foot. It was hard to know where to put her eyes at any given moment.

"Pretty swish, huh?" Luke gave her a knowing smile. "It's very different to how it looked ten years ago, I can tell you. I was working here as assistant hotel manager at the time."

Most of the photographs available online had been of the old resort, so Olivia knew what he meant. She shook her head in wonderment.

"The owners really did spare no expense."

"This whole building is new." Luke gestured upward at the glass dome. "That even has cyclone shutters that can be closed over it. While we're required to evacuate all guests in the event of an oncoming cyclone because the island may be inundated during a storm surge, the upper floors of this building would actually be quite safe even under the most severe conditions."

"Impressive," Olivia said with a nod, wincing as a trickle of cool water ran down her neck from her soaked hair. Luke tilted his head at her curiously.

"Excuse me for asking, but why is your hair wet?"

She sighed and gave him a rueful smile. "I may as well ‘fess up; I'm sure it'll be all over the resort within the hour. I fell off the ramp when boarding the boat."

"You what?" Luke looked startled.

"Entirely my own fault, I'm afraid. I was wearing spike heels and not looking where I was going." Luke was clearly making an effort to hold back his laughter. Olivia smiled at him cheekily. "Go on, you might as well laugh. I've seen the funny side now, anyway."

He permitted himself a few chortles before shaking his head. "I wish I'd seen it, though I'm sure you're glad I didn't. Well. I was going to ask if you wanted the full tour, but all things considered, I think maybe we'll postpone it to tomorrow morning and let you get settled in today instead. I've got meetings this afternoon, I'm afraid."

She smiled at him gratefully. "I admit I'm eager to get to work... but I'm even more eager to have a proper shower and wash the ocean out of my hair."

"Then let's make that happen." Luke turned to the left and swiped an access card through a slot beside a door marked STAFF ONLY. A short passageway led them outside and down a narrow path between high hedges. "This leads to the senior staff accommodation," he told her. "The cabins were actually part of the old resort; the owners decided to leave them for staff use when they built the new ones. You're in number six, which is a two-bedroom. You're sharing it with Suzannah, our executive chef; she's very nice but you probably won't see a lot of her. She's a workaholic."

Olivia nodded, looking with pleasure at the rustic timber cabins, set on low stumps, as they came upon then. Each had a small covered veranda at the front with a couple of comfortable-looking sun loungers; a brass number was screwed to the front railing on every cabin. It wasn't long before they arrived at number six, and Luke fished in a pocket to pull out a key and an access card, both of which he handed to her.

"The card gets you into all the staff areas of the resort. These cabins don't have electronic access like the newer ones, so you'll need to hang on to the key. It fits both doors to your room: the one that exits onto the veranda and the one into the living area of the cabin. Don't forget to lock both, and don't leave valuables lying around in the common area, because it's not secured; anyone can walk in."

Olivia nodded in understanding as Luke turned the door handle and opened the main cabin door. "This is lovely," she said in pleased surprise, looking around the simply furnished room. It had a tiny kitchenette at the other end, a large squashy couch facing a decent-sized flat-screen TV, and a small dining table with four chairs. The floor was tiled, and everything was immaculately clean.

"Maid service will go over the room once a week, on whatever is Housekeeping's quietest day that week. They can do your room and bathroom if you wish, but you need to let them in." Luke gestured to the door on the right-hand wall. "That's your room."

Her suitcase was already sitting by the door, Olivia noted. "Thanks," she said gratefully.

"I'll leave you to it. Suze will be in the middle of lunch prep, so you won't meet her until this afternoon. I'll get someone to come by and show you around a little bit, take you to the staff dining area—all your meals are included, of course."

"Of course," she echoed with a small smile. She'd never had an all-inclusive job before, but then you couldn’t actually pay for much on Sunfish apart from drinks, she recalled from reading the existing marketing literature. Feeding the staff was pretty much required when they couldn't easily source their own supplies.

"I'll see you later. Get settled in," Luke left her with a friendly nod. Olivia sighed a little in relief as she was finally left alone, and the tension dropped from her shoulders.

The day had been a mess right from the moment her cab driver in Sydney got a flat tire on the way to the airport and she'd nearly missed her flight. Rising tension and nerves about making a good impression had twisted a tight knot in her stomach, making her unable to eat or drink anything. Feeling an intense thirst, she crossed to the kitchenette to take a look in the fridge. She found several cans of soda, some of brands she didn't recognize. They had to belong to the unknown roommate. Biting her lip, Olivia eventually shrugged and grabbed a cola. She could always replace it later.

Sipping on her purloined cola, she let herself into her room and dragged her suitcase in after her. The bedroom was just as pleasantly furnished as the shared living area, with a double bed, dressing table with large mirror, and to her surprised pleasure, a high-quality desk and office chair with a new-looking computer on the desk. It also had a generous-sized walk-in closet and a beautifully appointed ensuite bathroom.

Delighted by her new living quarters, Olivia decided everything else could wait until she'd showered. The drapes over the sliding door to the veranda were already closed, so she closed her door, stripped, and headed for the ensuite.

Chapter 3

Half an hour later, Olivia felt a good deal more human. She'd showered and washed her hair, put on the fluffy bathrobe she'd found hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and was now sorting through her suitcase rather despairingly, wondering what on earth she could wear. Everything she'd brought now looked far too formal, even though she'd selected the most "casual" items from her wardrobe before putting everything into storage back in New York.

A light tap on the door leading out to the veranda made her look up. She could only make out a vague shape through the sheer curtain. "Who is it?" she called.

"Rosie!"

Smiling, Olivia went to let her new friend in, her smile widening even further as she saw the armload of clothes Rosie was carrying. "Oh, you star. I was just wondering what to wear in order not to look completely overdressed."

Rosie smiled shyly back at her, piling the clothes on the bed. "I think you look great. Your clothes are just gorgeous."

"They are," Olivia agreed, "and they're perfect for New York City life, or even Sydney, but here on Sunfish I'll just look... I don't know. Like I think I'm better than everyone else. I want to fit in here, be part of this lovely staff-family vibe you all seem to have going on."

"You will! Everyone's really nice and welcoming. And... well, to be honest, probably falling in the harbor really helped, because now they all know a funny story about you and it'll be a good icebreaker for you to get to know everyone."

Olivia smiled wryly, choosing a pair of shorts and a flowered blouse from the pile Rosie had put down and taking them to the bathroom to dress. "And here I was thinking I'd made a disastrous first impression," she called back.

"Well"—Rosie looked at the laptop and tablet lying on a soggy towel on the desk—"I mean, it was a disaster in some ways, but in others it could be a blessing in disguise?" She looked up at Olivia as she returned from the bathroom.

"I've seen the funny side now, anyway." Olivia grinned back at her. "When Luke said he wished he'd seen it, I got a mind's-eye picture of how I must have looked and almost cracked up laughing on the spot."

"That's the spirit," Rosie said warmly. She took a pair of pink rubber flip-flops—thongs, Olivia remembered, sternly telling herself not to snicker—from the pile of clothes and held them out. "These ones are fairly new. Should last you awhile."

"I'm only borrowing these until I have a chance to go back over to Hamilton Island and go shopping," Olivia told her, accepting the shoes.

"Oh, don't. Everything there is really expensive because it's all brought in for tourists. Take the other boat over to Airlie Beach on the mainland—that one goes every day too. The supermarket is only a five-minute walk from the marina, and there are plenty of other shops too."

"That's good to know, thanks!" Olivia made a mental note to ask Luke which day she could do that. "And how about doing laundry?"

"I'll show you where the staff laundry is on the way to lunch. You ready?"

Olivia scooped her keys and access card off the desk. "I am now."

As they left the cabin, Rosie pointed to their right, away from the main resort building. "I'm in the next cabin, by the way, number 7. Jill and I share it. Suze, your roomie, is a close friend; she often comes over and hangs out with us. You're welcome too, anytime."

Olivia nodded. "Thank you," she said genuinely.

They girls turned to walk back toward the main resort, and a deep voice stopped them in their tracks.

"Well, well, it's the Little Mermaid! How's tricks, Ariel?"

Cory leaned on the veranda rail of the cabin next to her own, a broad grin on his face. Remembering the way he'd apologized to her as she left the boat, and thinking of Rosie's advice to look at the whole incident as a blessing in disguise, Olivia flipped him the bird with an answering grin. Cory laughed, vaulted easily over the rail, and fell into step beside them.

"Good to see you can laugh about it." He smiled down at Olivia. She had to fight not to be knocked sideways from the impact of his good looks again; that combined with an intoxicating, spicily masculine scent as he stood close to her made her head reel.

"I can laugh about it, but call me Ariel again and you won't be laughing," she said in a mock-menacing tone, narrowing her eyes at him.

Cory laughed again and nodded amiably.

Stop being nice, you're making it very hard for me to keep my mind out of your pants, Olivia thought with an internal sigh, and resolutely turned her eyes away from his chiseled, handsome features. She caught Rosie giving her a speculative look and did her best to smooth her face to neutrality.

"Cory's single, y'know," Rosie murmured as they stood in line for the lunch buffet in the staff dining room. Cory had peeled off to go speak to someone else and was thankfully out of earshot.

"Oh?" Olivia tried to keep her tone light and disinterested. "Why?" she had to ask. "I mean..."

"I know, and trust me, it's not like he doesn't get offers." Rosie gave her a conspiratorial grin. "Every week there's a few tourists trying to throw themselves at him, but Cory's not the sort to have flings." She handed Olivia a plate. "I've known him forever. We were in school together in Cairns as kids."

That explained how comfortable the pair of them seemed; they really were childhood friends. Olivia did her best to divert the subject, though. "You grew up in Cairns, so you're a North Queenslander?"

"Spent my whole life on or near the Reef," Rosie confirmed. "I'd never want to be anywhere else."

"Hear, hear," Cory affirmed, rejoining them and collecting his own plate. "It's 'beautiful one day, perfect the next,' don't y'know." He quoted the Queensland advertising slogan at Olivia.

"I haven't been here long enough to confirm the truth of that," she pointed out, "but I'm looking forward to finding out."

"You'll see." Cory sounded utterly confident. Looking at both him and Rosie, incredibly healthy-looking, tanned, and practically glowing compared to her pasty-pale self, Olivia could quite believe it. "Although you'll need to use some pretty heavy-duty sunblock," Cory continued, "or that lovely creamy skin will be lobster-red."

"I bought a bottle in Sydney," Olivia agreed, "and I'll get more when I go into Airlie Beach to shop Rosie's been kind enough to lend me a few things, but I'll need to make a trip."

"Thought I recognized that blouse." Cory grinned at Rosie as the three of them left the buffet and headed over to a table. "Looks better on Olivia, I'm afraid."

Rosie made a face at him, but she also gave Olivia a sideways glance and a surreptitious nudge in the ribs. Olivia rolled her eyes in return.

"We are not thirteen," she hissed in Rosie's ear as another man paused by their table, distracting Cory briefly. "Stop trying to matchmake!"

Rosie laughed but turned her attention to her food, which was well worth paying attention to, Olivia conceded. The buffet had a huge variety, everything beautifully presented and perfectly fresh. She scooped up a forkful of pasta salad and hummed with pleasure at the taste.

The other man who'd stopped to speak to Cory took the fourth seat at their table then, and Olivia swallowed hastily as Cory introduced him.

"Olivia, this is Bryce, the resort's dive master. Bryce, meet Olivia."

Bryce was younger than the other two; Olivia estimated him to be about twenty-three or twenty-four. His dark hair was buzzed close to his scalp, and his deep bronze tan set off grass-green eyes.

Involuntarily, Olivia wondered whether all Australian men were this attractive. Cory, Luke, and Bryce, the three she'd met on Sunfish Island so far, were all good-looking enough to be models... though if she were completely honest, Cory was the only one who'd sparked more in her than a mere aesthetic appreciation. She smiled at Bryce's cheerful greeting.

"Nice to meet you too."

"So when are you coming out for your first dive with me?" Bryce asked. Olivia blinked, another forkful of food on her way to her mouth.

"Uh, what?"

"No way can you effectively market this place without seeing its primary attraction. The Reef. And you can't really see the Reef without diving on it."

"Technically she already made her first dive," Cory said, grinning, and Olivia had absolutely no compunctions about kicking him in the shin under the table.

Bryce frowned with confusion, and Olivia realized that news of her plunge hadn't reached him yet. Prudently moving his shins out of her reach, Cory promptly filled Bryce in. Olivia settled for glaring at him, though the way Cory described her had her inwardly glowing. Or maybe not so inwardly, considering the way Rosie was smirking at her.

"You should have seen her. She dived off the boat like an Olympic champion," Cory concluded. "I half expected her to turn a double somersault on the way in. I'd give her a 9.9 for execution. She sure was a sight for sore eyes coming out too."

A little puzzled at that remark, Olivia frowned at him; at least until Rosie murmured in her ear, "Your blouse went transparent. Cory got quite the eyeful."

Olivia hoped the two men interpreted her flaming cheeks as being caused by Bryce's laughter. Picking up her water glass, she took a deep gulp. "I daresay people will be telling stories of my arrival for years," she said, "getting more exaggerated with each telling."

"It's a good enough story that we don't need to exaggerate." Cory grinned at her. She considered the position of his shins with a tilt of her head, making him chuckle. She picked a cherry tomato off her plate and flung it with deadly accuracy at his forehead instead.

"Now, now, children." Bryce caught the tomato as it bounced off Cory's skull, "settle down. You've got to work together."

"Quite," Olivia said. "You've had your fun at my expense," she told Cory directly. "Now can you just let it go—at least when I'm in earshot?"

"Fair enough." He shrugged amiably. "God knows I make an idiot of myself regularly enough that you'll soon have plenty of ammunition for return fire, anyway."

"I can certainly attest to that," Rosie agreed. "I have a million embarrassing stories about him from our schooldays I can share if he keeps being obnoxious, anyway."

Cory's blue eyes widened comically. "I'll behave," he said hurriedly.

Olivia had to laugh at his schoolboyish dismay. "You better." She pointed her fork at him.

"Yes, ma'am." He saluted her smartly. She didn’t miss the warmth in his eyes as he looked back at her; a matching heat bloomed low in her belly. Pressing her knees together, Olivia looked away from those mesmerizing blue eyes and prodded at her lunch with her fork. Strangely enough, she no longer felt hungry.

Bryce and Rosie mercifully started talking, filling in the silence, and Olivia was content to just listen to their chatter. She glanced up at Cory through her lashes and found him pushing his food around his plate as well. He seemed to sense her eyes on him and looked up at her.

Their gazes caught and held.

She half expected him to make a quip or some sarcastic remark, but he just stared back at her, holding the fork still in his hand. For an endless moment they stared at each other, oblivious to the chatter and noise around them.

This is a terrible idea, Olivia thought. I have to work with him.

Cory smiled, the expression almost shy.

Oh, fuck it. Terrible idea or not, I'm not going to live like a nun for the next twelve months.

She smiled back.

Shortly afterwards, Rosie said apologetically that she had work to do, and Bryce left to take a new-divers class in one of the resort pools. They headed off leaving Olivia and Cory still staring at each other over the remains of their lunch.

"Do you have somewhere you need to be?" Olivia asked finally.

"Not until four thirty. Um. Luke actually asked me if I'd show you around a bit, but... if you'd rather someone else, I'm sure I can rustle someone up."

Time to make the call, Olivia.

"I wouldn't rather anyone else."

Cory's smile was slow and sure, warming through her. "Good," he said softly. "That's good. C'mon, then."

He offered a hand as she stood. Olivia debated taking it and decided she'd given the resort staff enough gossip for her first day. Besides, if she stepped a little closer, she could thread her hand through his arm instead and rest it on the pleasing bulge of his biceps. She got a few interested looks as she made her way out of the dining room on Cory's arm.

A row of golf buggies was parked behind the resort. Cory handed her into the passenger seat of one before going around to the driver's side.

"Please tell me that you don't drive like Rosie," Olivia thought to say suddenly, grabbing the dash as Cory started the engine.

He burst out laughing. "I promise I don't drive like Rosie. She's a maniac. Never has passed her driver's test; she can't drive anywhere except here or on Hamilton, with the golf buggies... and she's banned from driving one here too."

"That's a relief." Olivia took her hands off the dash before saying tentatively, "I've never learned to drive. It wasn't really necessary living in New York. The subway goes everywhere. Maybe you could teach me?"

"Sure," he said cheerfully, "want to start now?"

She laughed. "No, let me figure out my way around from the passenger seat first. I don't think I can concentrate on trying to drive while gaping like the tourist I am."

"Gotcha. Well, if you're the tourist, let me play tour guide." Cory slowed the golf cart as the path they were on intersected with another; he looked left and right before turning left. "First thing to note for when you do start driving: all our paths here are two-way and we drive on the left here in Oz."

"Noted," she agreed. "What's that?" She pointed off to the left at a small white building standing alone on a small rise.

"One of the wedding chapels. We have three, and an average of just under two weddings a day here. We have facilities for a lot more, and that's part of what Luke wants you to push in the marketing, I know... that this is one of the best wedding destinations in Australia."

"I can see why," Olivia agreed as Cory pulled the buggy off the path into a small parking area near the chapel. They got out and walked up to the small building. On closer inspection, she could see it was open on three sides, facing out over a small palm-fringed cove. The white sand and blue water were a stunning backdrop.

"Wow," she breathed, taking in the surroundings. "Just wow."

"Yeah." Cory placed his hands on the low railing at the side of the chapel, looking out over the water. "I see this view every day and I never get tired of it."

"I can imagine." Leaning into the railing as she stood beside him, Olivia gazed out at the ocean in wonder, taking in the colors in the water as the depth changed. "I've never seen anything like it. So many colors!"

"Beautiful," Cory agreed, but he was looking down at her now, not out at the water. Lifting one hand from the railing, he gently brushed a strand of curly, brown hair back behind her ear. "I was knocked sideways when I saw you walking down the dock today, Olivia," he said quietly, "and I feel like maybe you feel the same way, a bit."

She turned big dark brown eyes up to his but said nothing. He plowed on stubbornly. "Physical attraction is one thing, and I could put it to one side easily enough, but... everything about you has hit me for six. The way you dived back in to find your passport; the way you put me in my place for laughing at you. This might be crazy because we have to work together, but I'm seriously attracted to you. And I'd like to make that clear now, before we even get started. I don't want there to be any misunderstandings. If you're not interested, or if you want me to keep my distance because we're work colleagues, I can respect that, but I need you to set a boundary here. Because I don't want there to be any boundaries. I feel like you've been giving me some signals, but I need to make sure I'm not misinterpreting you."

He was being incredibly honest and direct, laying his soul bare to her with the heartfelt words. Olivia took a deep breath. "I think I might feel the same way. Except... what does 'hit for six' mean?"

Cory's serious expression dissolved and he let out a hearty chuckle. "It's a cricket term. Like... hitting a home run in baseball."

"You do know that hitting a home run has another meaning altogether, right?"

"I know." Slowly, giving her plenty of time to pull away, he put one arm around her, settling it lightly on her waist. "We can take this as slow or as fast as you like, Olivia."

She looked up at him and smiled coquettishly, turning to face him fully and lifting her hands to set them on his shoulders. "Slow's never been my style."

"I'm really glad you said that," Cory murmured, arm tightening around her to draw her close. He sank his free hand into her curly hair to hold her head still as he bent to kiss her.

Cory's mouth was hot and sweet-tasting as it moved over hers; gentle at first, at least until Olivia nipped his bottom lip. He let out a little growl at that and deepened the kiss, tongue sliding into her mouth possessively. She slid her fingers into his blond hair and gripped, nails scraping at his scalp, going up on tiptoe to push her body firmly against his, crush her breasts against the hardness of his chest.

They were both breathing raggedly when the kiss finally ended. Cory's hand shook as he brushed his knuckles over Olivia's cheek and traced a fingertip over her kiss-swollen lips.

Neither of them spoke; words would have ruined the moment, and they knew each other too little as yet to really know what to say. Instead Cory dropped his hand from Olivia's face reluctantly as she took a step back. He smiled as she slipped her hand into his.

"Why don't you give me the rest of the tour?"

Chapter 4

Sunfish Island was bigger than Olivia had realized. She'd studied the official literature, of course, and looked at photos and maps on the internet, but so much of it had to be seen in person to be appreciated. Every turn in the path seemed to bring a new stunning view, another delightful residence or grouping of cabins.

"This place is just incredible," she said as Cory drove them into another part of the resort, where he pulled up within sight of a sparkling lagoon pool fringed with palm trees. "Just... I mean, I knew it was beautiful from the photos, but photos just don't do it justice."

"That's where you come in." Cory hopped out of the golf cart and gestured her to follow as he headed over to the thatched-roof bar beside the pool. "I personally think we need TV advertising. Sunfish Island had a reputation here in Australia as a cheap family place to go, back in the nineties and early two thousands. There's almost nothing now that was even here back then—a cyclone eight years ago put paid to most of the old buildings. The cabins we live in are among the few survivors."

"I see." Olivia slipped onto a stool beside Cory at the bar and waited as the bartender made drinks for a couple of guests. "So the existing reputation has it marketed to the wrong kind of clientele, because although Sunfish is family-friendly, it's five-star and certainly not cheap these days."

"Exactly. Plus, we need to get known outside of Australia. The Chinese, Japanese, Indian, and Russian tourist market is huge these days, and they're prepared to pay for top quality."

"Hey, Cory." The conversation was interrupted by the bartender, a petite, beautiful young woman with dark brown skin and long braids.

"This is Olivia, Nessa. She's our new marketing manager. Nessa is the best bartender on the island," Cory confided.

"Ahem!"

"Beg your pardon, in Queensland. In Australia! Probably the world!" Cory grinned and Nessa laughed.

"Better. Nice to meet you, Olivia." She leaned across the bar to shake hands.

"You're English," Olivia realized after hearing her accent.

"I certainly am. Been out here ten years and you'd have to drag me away kicking and screaming." She slid a coaster in front of each of them on the polished timber bar. "What can I get you?"

"I'm on duty later, so just a soda water for me, thanks," Cory said cheerfully. "Like a beer, Olivia? Or a cocktail?"

She'd dearly love a cold beer, and said so. Nessa set a bottle beaded with condensation on the counter beside a clean glass.

"One of our local lagers, give it a try."

One sip told Olivia that Nessa had made the right call; she took a long draught to soak the parched feeling in her throat and sighed with pleasure. "Lovely. Thank you."

"Welcome." Nessa gave her a bright smile and darted away to serve another customer who approached the bar, her long braids swinging.

"What's the policy regarding staff using the resort facilities?" Olivia asked as Cory take a long drink of his soda water, his throat working as he swallowed.

"Perfectly fine as long as you don't drink alcohol while you're working, are never inebriated on resort premises, and don't prevent a customer from using the facility. So if it's busy, find somewhere else to go, basically." Cory shrugged. "The resort is overstaffed and underoccupied at the moment, so it shouldn't be an issue." He lowered his voice. "We don't pay for soft drinks 'on tap' and you pay only cost price on other drinks, so it's a really good deal. We're very well looked after here." He nodded towards Nessa, who was expertly making a cocktail. "I prefer this bar because Nessa runs tabs for all of us on sight—she's much more relaxed about it than the other bartenders. Plus, it's only a five-minute walk from the staff accommodation."

"It is?" Olivia blinked, looking around. She'd gotten completely turned around on the tour, then. She could have sworn they were a long way from the main resort, but looking around now, she could just see the dome of the main building above the palm trees. "Oh, I see."

"I'll show you the path later. This is the closest swimming pool to the cabins too, and you can also swim at the beach down there." Cory pointed.

"It's safe?"

"Beach swimming? Yes, it's really shallow up to about a hundred meters out, and this isn't stinger season. No sharks, either. You should wear reef shoes, though, because there can be sharp coral and stonefish, which you do not want to step on."

"Venomous?"

"Yes. Spines on their backs. The pain is hideous, I'm told." Cory shuddered. "We've never had anyone stung here, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be careful."

"I shall consider myself properly cautioned." Olivia smiled at him. "I did read up on Australia's wildlife before I accepted the job."

"And you weren't put off? Brave girl."

They both chuckled.

"Tell me about you, Olivia. I know enough about Hunter Enterprises to know the bosses would have hired the best. So why was the best willing to give up what was clearly a very lucrative and respected position in New York and fly halfway around the world to spend a year here? Because love this place though I do, it has to feel like the back of beyond to a sophisticated city girl like you."

His blue eyes were clear and calm as he watched her. Olivia took a deep breath, puffed her cheeks on the way out, and took another long sip of her beer.

"You're not starting with the easy questions, are you?" She smiled to take the sting from her words. "I guess we should start this off being honest with each other, though." Another long sip of beer, and she looked away from his clear blue eyes, which seemed to see right into her soul. "I had to get out."

He only listened, doing his best to be quiet and really pay attention to not just her words, but the emotions behind them, as she continued.

"I'd been in the rat race since my teens, since my parents enrolled me in an exclusive Manhattan prep school. There was this intense pressure to be the best, the smartest, the most popular. Some girls couldn't handle it; they cracked, took drugs, slept around. I thrived on it." Twirling her beer bottle in her fingers, she said, "I was always top of the pile. I was the one who got the internships, the scholarships, won the awards. Everything came so easily. Got picked up straight out of Stanford Business School to work at the top marketing firm in New York, made associate in two years, became the youngest partner in the firm's history on my twenty-sixth birthday."

Cory said nothing, just watched as Olivia talked. Her voice had no real pride in it as she talked about her achievements; she might have been reciting a grocery list for all the emotion she showed. Her eyes flicked back to his. "And with all the success came money, more of it than I really knew what to do with... and the perfect partner to share it all with."

He'd wondered if that would come up. There was no way a woman as beautiful and successful as Olivia hadn't had men falling at her feet.

"Brad Cochrane. Or as my friends dubbed him after the breakup, The Cockroach." She gave him a little half smile. "One of Wall Street's finest."

"Wait a minute," Cory suddenly put two and two together. "I know that name. Isn't he that guy who was recently convicted in the biggest money-laundering case in history? For the Mexican drug cartels?"

"Bingo." Olivia made finger guns and pointed them at him. "As his fiancée, I was suspect number two. Took me months to clear my name. Most of my assets are still sequestered, and almost all of my legitimate clients suddenly really wanted to work with other partners at the firm. I was asked to take a leave of absence... and then the contents of my desk got delivered to my apartment in a UPS box."

"Jeez, Olivia, that must have been absolute hell," Cory said quietly. He couldn't even imagine what she'd gone through, her professional reputation ruined by something that had absolutely nothing to do with her at the same time as her relationship collapsed under a tissue of lies. "I'm so sorry."

She drained the last of her beer and set the glass down on the bar. "I sued for wrongful dismissal... and lost. There was a clause in my contract about not bringing my good name into disrepute, and my name had been smeared all over the news in connection with Brad's. Even though I had nothing to do with his shit, I still lost everything. My job, my reputation... and after the lawsuit, there was no way any firm in New York would ever hire me again. All because I had the shitty taste to fall for a con artist."

There was really nothing Cory could say. What had happened to Olivia was deeply unfair. She gave him a wan little smile.

"So you see, I really didn't have all that many options when John Hunter called me. I'd just pitched a marketing campaign for his California winery when all the shit went down. He liked it, called to take me up on it, and was seriously unhappy when he found out I wouldn't be able to handle the campaign after all. He asked me to handle it privately, which I did... I had no idea when or if I'd ever get another job at all, and the lawsuit had eaten most of my savings. The launch went off really well despite everything, and he offered me this job. The rest, as they say, is history."

She shrugged, looking away at the ocean again. "You know, I don't regret it. It was killing me slowly, the constant pressure to dress the part, be seen in all the right places, be friends with all the right people. This"—she swept a hand around, indicating their peaceful surroundings—"maybe here I can find out who Olivia Stratten actually is when she's not under pressure to be perfect."

Cory bit his lip on the remark that almost spilled from him. Olivia turned to him, her eyes dancing with mirth.

"Maybe that's why I feel so comfortable with you already. You definitely don't know Perfect Olivia."

"I wasn't gonna say it." His grin broke out, though. "You did look like perfection walking down the dock. I was very intimidated."

"Until my clumsy ass fell in the harbor." She snickered, eyes alight.

On impulse he took her hand. "Olivia Stratten is someone who can laugh at herself, and that's the first trait I look for in a woman: a good sense of humor."

Laughing freely at that, Olivia squeezed his hand back. "Well. A couple of months ago, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have seen the funny side, but I definitely do now."

Cory looked at his watch then and said with regret that he needed to get back. They waved to Nessa, who was just getting busy with the early evening cocktail hour, and hopped back in the golf cart. He pointed out the walking path, which was a shortcut to the cabins as they passed it.

"I have to go call the early evening bingo game," Cory said regretfully. "It's our regular bingo caller's day off."

Olivia laughed at the thought of Cory calling bingo numbers to a crowd of retirees. Because he was the activities director, she supposed he had to be able to cover for any of his team when required, though. Thinking that she needed to know more about the activities and events the resort offered, she questioned him about his job. Cory answered all her questions good-naturedly, clearly happy to talk about the job he obviously adored.

"Bryce was right when he said you really need to see the Reef, though," he said as he pulled the golf buggy back into the parking slot they'd taken it from. "Have you ever dived before?"

She shook her head. "Not proper diving with oxygen tanks, no. I'm a strong swimmer, though."

"That I already knew." He cast her a grin. "Well, you'd have to take a couple of Bryce's starter lessons in the pool to begin with, but I'm taking a group out snorkeling tomorrow, if you'd be interested?"

"I'd love to," Olivia said enthusiastically, before she thought to say, "I don't know if Luke will want me to start work here, though..."

"It's an early afternoon tour. You can catch up with him in the morning and see," Cory suggested. "I'm pretty sure he'll tell you to take a few days and familiarize yourself with everything the resort has to offer before you consider implementing anything, though."

That sounded like a sensible strategy. "Well, provided he's okay with it, yes, I'd love to come snorkeling."

"Excellent. Boat leaves the dock at one; we've got plenty of snorkeling gear, but make sure you bring your own sunscreen." He grinned down at her, and as they approached the door leading back into the main building, he drew her gently to a stop with his hand on her elbow. "There's nothing I'd like more than to spend the whole evening getting to know you, Olivia. I'm sorry I can't."

Cory's eyes were serious as he looked down at her. She smiled back at him, charmed again by his honesty and his straightforward, open approach.

"I'd like that too."

"I'm honored by your trust in telling me about your ex and why you're here, and I promise you that nobody will hear a word of it from me."

She was already quite sure of that, but she nodded anyway, accepting his pledge. Cory bent his head slowly, allowing her time to move away if she wanted to, but she was more than happy to step in closer and accept the kiss he pressed against her lips.

"Tomorrow," he said, a low-voiced promise, before he swiped his access card and let them back into the building.

Olivia was sure the color flags were flying high on her cheeks as she watched Cory bound up the spiral stairs in the atrium to the main lounge on the second floor where he had to call the bingo game. She caught herself admiring at the muscles bunching in his strong thighs as he took the steps three at a time, and laughed at herself. Cory was a whole lot more than just a handsome face and an attractive body.

"He's good-looking for sure, but Cory's a player," a voice said behind her, and Olivia turned to see Jill, the guest relations manager she'd met at the airport. "Don't get your heart broken."

Olivia wasn't entirely sure what made her ask, "Is that personal experience talking?" but the way Jill's face flushed told her that her shot in the dark was right on target. Jill didn't say another word, just turned and stalked away, outrage radiating from her in waves.

"I think I might have made an enemy," Olivia muttered regretfully. She couldn’t do a lot about it, though; she guessed that the moment Jill so much as suspected chemistry between Olivia and Cory, her nose would have been out of joint. Thank God nobody had witnessed their kiss at the wedding chapel, or the quick embrace outside the door. Olivia's name would have been mud all over Sunfish Island before nightfall; no doubt she'd have been smeared as a slut who threw herself at Cory literally as soon as she arrived.

Wandering over to look at the tour-booking desk—currently unoccupied—and the large display of brochures for available trips, Olivia wondered if she had been slutty. She'd always had a policy of never getting involved with anyone she worked with. What was it about Cory that had made her forget that resolution within a couple of hours of meeting him? It wasn't just the way he looked. She'd worked with attractive men many times before and never felt remotely tempted. No, she felt a genuine connection with Cory, one that had been there from their first meeting, and every moment spent in his company since had only reinforced the impression that he was a man she could like and respect as well as lust after.

I'm not going to feel guilty for going after what I want, Olivia decided, squaring her shoulders and turning to look around the lobby. Whatever had happened between Jill and Cory was obviously in the past, and Jill's little display of jealousy only put Olivia on her guard. She couldn't trust anything Jill said about Cory now. Every instinct told her that Cory wasn't a "player" as Jill had described him—and wouldn't Rosie, who'd known Cory all her life, have dropped a gentle hint or two if he were, instead of eagerly matchmaking?

Chapter 5

Just as Olivia thought of Rosie, she came through a door on the other side of the lobby with Luke, the pair of them talking earnestly. They both spotted her and smiled at the same moment, coming over to join her.

"Hey, how are you settling in?" Luke asked cheerfully. "Better after the dunking?" His eyes twinkled.

"Much, thank you," Olivia said. "Rosie was kind enough to lend me some of her things, I'm afraid I vastly overestimated the dress code here at Sunfish. I think I'll need to go into Airlie Beach to shop one day, if that can be arranged?"

"Of course, the boat goes every day," Luke said with a shrug. "You can go anytime you like. As far as I'm concerned, you make your own schedule here, Olivia. The only instruction I have from Mr. Hunter is that I'm to see to it you have anything you need. Rosie mentioned your laptop and tablet took a dunking too."

"And my phone," she admitted. "Yes, I'll need to purchase replacements for those in Airlie as well."

"The resort has an account at the computer-and-electrical store. Put them on our tab." Luke's tone brooked no argument.

"Well... thank you," she accepted gracefully, secretly grateful. Replacing her electronics would have put a serious dent in her much-depleted savings. "That's very good of you."

He waved away her thanks. "There's a computer in your room, too, but that's mainly because I don't really have office space for you. You're welcome to work anywhere you like in the resort. Although you're on staff, you're not part of the guest relations side, and as such I don't mind if you want to act more as a guest here, to get the real guest experience, than as a staff member."

Startled, Olivia blinked at him. "Thank you! But I want to pull my weight around here too. If you need an extra pair of hands at any time, please just say so."

"Rosie will let you know." Luke gestured at Rosie, who hadn't said a word as she nodded along in agreement with what he was saying. "She's our staff manager."

"Well, there may be times when we do need extra pairs of hands, of course," Rosie said, "but I'll try not to shove you into anything you wouldn't be prepared for. I mean, I'm guessing you're going to spend a fair bit of time talking to guests anyway, asking them what they think are the best things about Sunfish for marketing purposes, so guest relations would probably be a handy spot for you. Which is Jill's department, of course."

"Of course," Olivia echoed, doing her level best not to let her feelings at the idea of having to work for Jill, even temporarily, show on her face.

She must have failed, though, because after dinner—eaten with Luke and Rosie, who both talked enthusiastically about how much they loved working at Sunfish—she was walking back to her cabin with Rosie when the other girl asked, "Um, Olivia, I hope you don't mind me asking this, but have you had a run-in with Jill?"

She missed a step, recovered. "I thought I wasn't that obvious."

"Jill has a way of rubbing people up the wrong way, sometimes."

"One would think that guest relations wouldn't be the best career for her, then," Olivia said dryly.

"You'd be surprised the shit she has to deal with," Rosie replied. "Guest relations manager is just a fancy title for 'troubleshooter.'"

"Hm." They'd reached her cabin, and Olivia stopped and turned to Rosie with a sigh. "I don't want to get off on the wrong foot, and I don't want to make any enemies, but I'm pretty sure Jill was predisposed to dislike me from the moment Cory started flirting with me."

"She was predisposed to dislike you from the moment she saw you in the airport and realized how pretty you are," Rosie said bluntly. "Because yes, as you've already figured out, Cory is a sore spot with Jill."

"Will you tell me about it?" Olivia pleaded. "I know Jill is your friend and I don't want to ask you to go behind her back, but I'm pretty sure I can't trust anything she says about Cory... and I'm pretty sure I can trust what you tell me about him, since you've known each other so long."

Rosie sighed and glanced at the lit window in her cabin next door. "Invite me in?"

"Sure."

They went into the lounge area and sat down. Rosie rubbed her hands together, looking as though she was thinking about what to say. Olivia waited in silence, not wanting to push. Jill and Rosie were obviously close, and she didn't want to force Rosie to betray her friend.

"Cory and Jill dated for a while when Jill got the job here in the middle of last year," Rosie said finally. "It lasted, maybe three or four months? I don't remember exactly."

"Why did they break up? I don't need all the gory details," Olivia said hurriedly, "but who dumped who would be good to know."

"Cory ended it, but Jill drove him to it. She was incredibly clingy and possessive. I'm sure you can imagine that with the way Cory looks, he literally can't help girls throwing themselves at him sometimes. There was this guest at the resort. She was here with her parents; she wouldn't leave him alone. She was all of seventeen, so Cory just treated her like a kid with a crush... which was exactly the right thing to do. He was polite but didn't encourage her, and he made damn sure she couldn't catch him alone anywhere. Which didn't stop Jill from getting wildly jealous every time Cory even glanced in her direction." Rosie sighed and leaned back in her chair. "Jill was being stupid, I told her so myself; told her Cory would never touch the girl."

"But she wouldn't listen," Olivia surmised.

"Yup, and in the end there was a really ugly scene where Jill confronted the girl and called her all sorts of demeaning names, told her to stay away from Cory. Honestly I think the only reason Jill didn't get fired for it was that the parents thought their daughter had been making a fool of herself and took Jill's side when the matter went up before Luke."

Olivia shook her head. "That... must have been pretty hard on the girl."

"Which was what Cory thought. The whole scene was just so unnecessary, and he told Jill that when he broke it off. She'd been jealous over nothing and he could see it inevitably happening again, every time he even so much as spoke to a pretty girl. He didn't want the drama."

And here I come with a history of nothing but drama, Olivia thought. "Thanks for telling me this, Rosie."

"You're welcome. I'd like to see Cory happy. I'd like to see Jill happy too, but the two of them just aren't suited for each other." Rosie shrugged, her irrepressible grin breaking out again. "I'm a natural matchmaker."

"What about you, anyone special in your life?" Olivia asked curiously.

A wistful look crossed Rosie's face briefly before she shook her head. "I'm afraid not."

"That look tells me that there's someone, though? Didn't Jill say you were seeing a pilot?" Olivia remembered the earlier conversation in the airport.

"Past tense, I'm afraid."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Olivia said genuinely.

"He was seeing multiple other girls"—Rosie's smile was wry—"and nice though he was—and honest about it, which was a big point in his favor—I'd like to be somebody's one and only."

Don't we all, Olivia thought. "Jill told me Cory was a player."

"Not in the least." Rosie shook her head vehemently. "Couldn't be further from the truth. Cory isn't one to start something unless he thinks it's going somewhere. He was genuinely broken up about ending things with Jill, but her jealousy was just too much for the relationship to bear."

"So me even hinting that I might be jealous would be a big red flag," Olivia surmised. "I'll keep that in mind."

"You should. Because there are silly young girls who try to throw themselves at him every other week here, and Cory will be watching to see your reaction," Rosie warned. She covered a huge yawn and laughed at herself. "God, sorry. Been a long day. I'm gonna go crash."

"Thank you for telling me the truth."

"You're welcome." Rosie surprised Olivia with a hug, which Olivia returned tentatively. "Don't let Jill get to you. If I see or hear her starting any crap, I'll try and pull her up; she listens to me."

Olivia thanked her again, and Rosie took her leave with a cheerful wave, leaving Olivia alone with her thoughts.

Lost in thought, Olivia sat for a while in silence. She was startled when the cabin door opened and looked up to see a tall redheaded woman who was probably a couple of years her senior entering.

"Hi," she said uncertainly.

"'Allo, you must be Olivia! I have heard so much about you already! I'm Suzannah, your roommate."

"Oh." Getting to her feet, Olivia smiled in welcome. "Hi—nobody mentioned you were French!"

Suzannah laughed throatily, stepping forward and kissing Olivia enthusiastically on both cheeks. "Eh, we are a multinational crew here; nobody thinks much of it. As long as they can understand your accent, that is."

That made Olivia smile. She liked Suzannah immediately, admiring her poise and confident air. "I swiped one of your sodas from the fridge earlier," she confessed, figuring she'd best get that out of the way first. "I'll replace it, I promise."

Suzannah waved it off with another laugh, heading to the fridge herself. "Want another? I'm thirsty, been a busy night in the kitchen."

Olivia accepted the offer and they sat to introduce themselves to each other properly. Suzannah was more than happy to answer questions, talking about her training at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris and her past work in major hotels and famous restaurants. Olivia almost died of shock when Suzannah admitted to once having worked for Gordon Ramsey and having a glowing recommendation from the infamously critical chef on her résumé.

"Well, nothing I've ever done compares to that; you definitely win," Olivia said, very impressed, making Suzannah's throaty laugh ring out again. The French girl smothered a yawn then, admitting that she'd had a long day.

"Go sleep, we can talk more tomorrow. We've got plenty of time to get to know each other," Olivia insisted when Suzannah demurred, offering to keep her company. Left alone, she thought she should probably go on into her own room, in case she made noise in the lounge area and kept the weary chef awake.

At least the nightwear she'd brought was perfectly fine; she liked to be comfortable when she slept, so she just changed into a tank top and a pair of boyleg cotton shorts before slipping into bed and turning out the bedside light.

Sleep was nowhere to be found, though, and after a couple of hours tossing and turning, Olivia gave up. Getting out of bed, she went out onto her little veranda, sitting down on the chair and putting her feet up on the railing. It was blissfully cool outside now, whereas her room had been too warm; she sighed as the sea breeze washed over her and let her head tip back.

"Can't sleep either?" a low voice said, and she startled upright, yelping with shock as her feet fell to the floor.

"Sorry!"

"Who the hell is that?" Olivia pressed her hand to her pounding heart.

"Cory. Remember, I live next door?" There was a laugh in his voice.

"God damn it." She shut her eyes before opening them, laughing at herself and peering across the dark space between the two cabins. She could just about make him out in the dim moonlight, lying in... "Is that a hammock?"

"Sure is, and it's big enough to share. Wanna come join me?"

She hesitated only briefly before scrambling to her feet and heading over. "I've never been in a hammock before," she admitted, looking at Cory sprawled negligently in the net, one long leg hanging over the side. "How do you get into it gracefully?"

"Easier said than done," he chuckled, "but actually fairly easy when you have help..." He pushed at the floor with his foot, swung towards her, and scooped her easily off her feet to lie with her back against his chest.

Olivia flailed for a second before realizing she was actually making it more likely they'd both fall out, and relaxed back against Cory. "You could have warned me," she grumped.

"I could, but it wouldn't have been nearly as much fun." He nuzzled at her ear, making her shiver.

"Practical joker," she accused, but she couldn't repress the laughter in her voice and he knew it.

"It's a bad habit." He fell silent, and she did too, feeling oddly relaxed despite their intimately close position, despite having known him for barely twelve hours. Lying in the cradle of his thighs, head pillowed on his broad chest, Olivia felt more comfortable, more secure, than she had in a very long time. Than she could ever remember feeling, if she were completely honest with herself.

Cory's toe brushing the floor pushed off, set them swinging gently. The slow side-to-side motion soothed Olivia, and her eyes drifted closed.

"Are you asleep?" Cory asked quietly a few blissful minutes later.

"No." But she didn't bother to open her eyes.

"That's good." He hesitated before saying softly, "Because I'm actually a lot less sleepy than I was before you lay down on me."

She realized that the firm muscle pressed against her left ass cheek wasn't actually his thigh. It couldn't be, not unless he had three legs.

"Oh." Her eyes popped wide and her cheeks flushed with color.

"You can get up, if you like." There was a definite or in Cory's tone, though he didn't say the word aloud.

"I think I'm perfectly fine here, thanks."

"Mm-hm." He moved slowly, though, his hand gliding gently across her stomach and up toward her breasts, making it obvious that she could grab it and push it off at any time. Far from doing so, Olivia closed her eyes and relaxed with a soft sigh as his hand cupped her breast through her top.

Cory's warm lips nibbled at her ear as his thumb rubbed small circles over her nipple, raising it quickly to a hard little point. It was Olivia who pulled up the hem of her top, though, taking his free hand in hers and bringing it under the thin fabric to cover her other breast.

Cory made a low, hungry sound deep in his chest, fingers tightening on her nipple. "So damn tempting," he rasped against Olivia's ear, hips grinding against hers, the hardness of his arousal pressing against her ass. "Come inside with me, Olivia..."

"I think I'd probably better not," she gasped reluctantly, arching up into his tugging fingers. "It's very soon..."

He growled wordlessly. "Okay, but I want you to know I'm gonna go jack off while thinking about you."

She smiled at that, turning her head to press kisses against his stubbled jaw. "Sounds hot. I'd like to watch you do that sometime."

"Mm. I'd like to watch you pleasure yourself too." He released her breasts and moved one hand slowly across her stomach and over her shorts before curving over her mound. "How do you like to do it... fingers, or toys?"

"Battery-operated boyfriend," Olivia moaned as his fingers crooked, pressing the thin fabric against her sensitive flesh. "I... I was nervous coming through Customs with it in my suitcase, actually. I had visions of the official pulling it out and waving it around in the middle of the terminal."

Cory laughed, the rumble in his chest shaking her whole body. "I'd have liked to have seen your face."

"That's because you have a low sense of humor and find amusement in watching me make a fool of myself," Olivia tried to say the words in a sniffy, offended tone, but Cory's long fingers had just insinuated themselves inside the crotch of her boyleg shorts, grazing gently over her folds. Her voice came out breathy and high instead.

"You look beautiful whether you're fully in control or taking an unexpected header into the water," Cory murmured hotly against her ear. "But I bet you're absolutely stunning when you come." One fingertip pressed firmly against her clit, rubbing a rapid circle. Olivia bit her lip to keep from screaming with ecstasy, acutely aware that they were outside. Yes, it was dark, but anyone walking on the path past the cabins would be able to see them if she made enough noise to attract attention.

"This okay?" Cory whispered, stroking faster. She nodded jerkily against his chest, as heat spiraled through her core, every nerve starting to tingle. His other hand had never left her breast as his fingertips carried on their teasing play with her nipple. He pinched lightly as his other hand slipped lower, fingers crooking up inside her as the heel of his hand rubbed firmly over her bud.

"Oh God, Cory, yes," Olivia gasped, her grasping his wrist with both hands and holding on to it so that she could grind herself against his hand to get just the pressure she needed. "Fuck, yes, there!"

"That's it, angel," he crooned in her ear. The hammock swayed and creaked below them as Olivia shuddered with completion, biting her tongue to keep from letting out loud cries of fulfillment.

Cory hummed with contentment, leaving his fingers right where they were until Olivia finally relaxed against him, her grip on his wrist falling lax. Gently he withdrew his hand and wrapped his arms around her to hold her close in a firm embrace.

"Thank you," Olivia murmured finally.

"Think you're relaxed enough to sleep now?" he asked with a soft chuckle.

Olivia laughed. "Mm. Yes, I rather think I am. How about you?" Deliberately she wiggled her ass, pushing it against the solid bar of his erection and grinning to herself at his heartfelt groan.

"I'm not relaxed at all, but I'll be fine. I can go cool off in the shower and take care of the problem."

"I could take care of it for you," she offered. His cock twitched against her ass, straining harder against her.

"Sounds good," Cory admitted, "but this isn't exactly the best position, or location, for that."

"True. Let's go inside, then."

"Thought you weren't ready for that?"

Olivia hesitated only a second before saying, "Not quite ready to hit a home run, no, but I'd like to get you off. Only fair."

"Oh, never let it be said I denied you the chance to even the score," Cory chuckled quietly before shifting under her, bracing them with his foot on the floor, and lifting quickly. Olivia found herself on her feet almost before she knew it, Cory standing up alongside her, taking her hand in his and leading her inside.

His room was a mirror image of hers, but a lot homelier, with just a small lamp beside the bed casting everything in a softly welcoming glow. Olivia smiled on spotting the vintage Point Break poster framed above the bed. Of course Cory would love that movie.

"No, here." She tugged back on his hand as he led her towards the bed. She pointed at the desk instead. "Take off your shorts and sit there." She grabbed the office chair and sat down, watching as he dropped his shorts quite unselfconsciously and stood nude and magnificently male before her before backing up to the desk and seating himself on the edge of it, knees spread apart.

Olivia stared her fill for a good minute before sighing. "Damn, you're gorgeous." He truly was, all golden skin over chiseled muscle, a scattering of dark blond hair on his broad chest narrowing down to the thin happy trail bisecting those perfect abs. His cock rose, thickly engorged from a nest of dark golden curls, swollen and flushed, a pearly drop of precum just beading at the tip.

Cory smiled at her. "That's my line."

"Hush and let me admire." Olivia scooted the chair closer, laying her hands on his strong thighs and pressing them a little farther apart so she could sit in between them. Leaning in, she breathed warm air over his cock and smiled as it twitched in response.

"Christ, Olivia." Cory's hands tightened where they curled around the edge of the desk, his knuckles whitening.

She smiled up at him, holding his gaze as her lips parted, tongue slipping out to moisten them before she licked a long, slow line up the length of his cock, swiping off the bead of precum and humming with pleasure at the salty-sweet taste on her tongue.

Cory's groan was heartfelt. Olivia laughed softly before licking her lips again and opening them wide, taking the flushed, swollen head of his cock into her mouth.

"Fuck, Olivia, I'm not gonna last."

Her mouth was too full to reply, but she let her actions speak for her, taking her hands off his thighs and wrapping one of them firmly around the base of his cock, the other rolling and caressing his balls between her fingers.

Cory cried out wordlessly, his cock jerking in her fingers an instant before the first spurt hit the back of her throat. Olivia took her time, slowly sucking up every last drop before licking him clean. His hand came up to slowly caress her hair, stroking through her thick curls.

"So good," Cory said quietly, looking down at Olivia as she finally moved back and smiled up at him. "Thank you."

She smiled slow and satisfied, like a cat licking cream from its whiskers. "You're welcome. I think maybe we'll both get a good night's sleep now, hmm?" Standing, she pressed a kiss on his lips before slipping away into the night.

Chapter 6

The previous day seemed dreamlike and unreal to Olivia when she woke to a bright, hot morning and Rosie knocking on her door. The other girl waited while she dressed, then accompanied her to breakfast, chattering about all the things Olivia should do on her first day.

"I'm going snorkeling later," Olivia cut Rosie off, "but I'd really like to just take a walk around the resort this morning. Find my way around properly, really get familiar with the place."

"Absolutely." Rosie nodded her approval. "Reception has a good map of the island; stop there and grab one before you go. And don't forget a hat, and sunscreen!"

Olivia thanked Rosie for her advice, refraining from snapping that she already knew that. She hadn’t seen Cory this morning, at his cabin or in the staff dining room, and butterflies were beginning to flutter in her stomach. What did she really know about Cory, anyway? She'd met him less than a day ago, yet the previous night they'd got extremely hot and heavy together.

Determined to forget about Cory for the time being and get to work, she grabbed one of the maps from Reception and headed back to her cabin to put on sunscreen and find her hat and sunglasses. Ten minutes later she set off, a bag slung over her shoulder containing a bottle of water, a notebook, and a pen. In the absence of being able to take photos and make notes on her phone as she normally did, the notebook would have to do.

She kept a close eye on the time during her walk, mindful that she needed to get back to her cabin in time to change and then meet the boat at the dock at one. Lunch wasn't in her plan, since she had no desire to humiliate herself yet again in front of Cory by getting seasick on the boat. The transfer from Hamilton Island had been short enough yesterday that she hadn't worried about it, but bobbing about on a smaller boat for a couple of hours could well be a different story.

Returning to her cabin with a stack of notes to consider, she swiped another of Suzannah's sodas, thinking guiltily that she must find out where to buy more, before finding her bikini. She'd brought three, sure there would be plenty of opportunity for swimming, but no swimming shirt. Chewing on her lip, she shrugged and grabbed one of Rosie's T-shirts, an elderly-looking one. Floating facedown in the water for an hour or two, she was likely to end up with a burned back if she didn't cover up. She made sure to thickly cover every exposed inch of skin with the waterproof, high-factor sunscreen she'd bought in Sydney before putting her hat and flip-flops back on and heading for the dock.

The boat was bigger than she'd expected; not one of the big handsome cruisers that transferred tourists to and from the island, but a generously sized motor-yacht. Cory stood on the deck, talking to a couple of tourists who'd just boarded. Both were attractive young women, who stood close and gazed at him with undisguised admiration.

Cory's eyes slid towards Olivia and he smiled but made no effort to break off his conversation. She nodded at him in greeting and boarded the boat, walking past him and finding a seat on which to put her bag containing her towel and water bottle. She absolutely refused to show jealousy; quite apart from the fact that it would put Cory off her completely, she was pretty sure she didn't have anything to worry about.

Her decision was vindicated a couple of minutes later as Cory came over to greet her properly, an arm sliding around her waist as he bent to kiss her cheek and nuzzle lightly against her neck.

"Hello, beautiful."

"Hello yourself." Olivia wiggled as his fingers slid against her ribs and he found a ticklish spot. Laughing as she squeaked and danced away, Cory pulled her back closer and ducked beneath the brim of her hat to claim a proper kiss.

His lips were warm and sweet; Olivia lost herself in the kiss briefly, in the slide of the heat of his body through the thin layers of their clothing as he pulled her close.

A wolf-whistle made them pull apart. Color tinged Cory's cheeks as he made a face at the boat's driver. "Put a sock in it, Jodie."

The driver was an older woman with darkly tanned skin and white teeth flashing in her laughing face. Cory introduced Olivia, telling her, "Jodie's spent her whole life in the Whitsunday Islands. She knows all the best snorkel and dive spots, and nobody's better at finding the whales in whale-watching season."

"Which is when?" Olivia asked curiously.

"June to August is the best time. The whales give birth to their calves in the warm waters here; it's a natural nursery for them. We're not allowed to get too close, but sometimes they come close to us." Jodie smiled at her. "I've got some amazing photos and video we've taken off the boat; you can have whatever you like for marketing material."

"That's terrific!" Olivia said. Cory had remained at her side, his warm hand resting lightly on the small of her back. He moved away then with a murmured apology to go and greet some more tourists boarding the boat. Olivia barely noticed his departure, focused on her conversation with Jodie.

"That everyone, Cory?" Jodie called back after a couple of minutes. "Cast off, then!" she said when she got a reply in the affirmative.

"Do you need me to sit down?" Olivia asked uncertainly.

"No, you're fine there." Jodie expertly brought the boat's big engines up to a low rev, guiding the boat away from the dock with a deft touch. "You two look good together," she said unexpectedly.

"We only met yesterday," Olivia admitted, "but I feel like I'm falling head over heels."

"I've known that boy all his life." Jodie was wearing reflective sunglasses, so Olivia couldn't see her eyes, but her tone was friendly. "He's one of the few people I've ever met who's just as beautiful on the inside as the outside. Don't you break his heart, now."

"I'll try," Olivia promised, touched by Jodie's obvious fondness for Cory. Nobody seemed to have a bad word to say about him, except Jill who obviously had an ax to grind. "It'd be like kicking a puppy—how could you? I've got baggage, though. Maybe too much."

"Eh." Jodie shrugged, gunning the engines as they cleared the small harbor. "That's life for you. You'll do fine. You didn't look funny at him when those girls were all over him; that's the one thing Cory wouldn't be able to stand."

"Rosie warned me about that," Olivia admitted. They were having to speak more loudly to be heard over the engine noise, and she looked towards the back of the boat, hoping Cory wouldn't overhear. He was talking cheerfully to a young couple, though, helping them select snorkeling gear from a cabinet. "She told me about Jill."

"Did she now!" Jodie said nothing more, though, just concentrated on piloting the boat, and Olivia relaxed and turned her attention to the crystal blue waters they skimmed rapidly across.

"Hey." Cory came to join her a few minutes later, slipping into the empty seat beside her and putting his arm around her shoulders. "Want to come pick out some snorkeling gear? Everyone else has theirs."

"Sure." She followed him to the back of the boat, ignoring the two girls who'd been flirting with Cory and who were now staring at her and whispering to each other. They are no threat to me, she told herself and believed it. Even knowing Cory as little as she did, she was quite certain the chance of him getting involved with one of the resorts guests was pretty much zero.

"How long does the boat trip take?" she called to Cory over the engine noise, which was even louder at the back of the boat.

"About twenty minutes," he called back, picking up a set of flippers and holding them close to her feet, nodding that he thought they were about the right size. She chose a mask and snorkel.

"This'll do."

"Got sunscreen on?"

"All over. I don't need a burn on my first full day."

"Damn."

She looked a query at him; he laughed, hooked an arm around her waist, and pulled her close. "I was hoping to be able to offer to help you apply it."

"Lecher," Olivia accused, laughing back up at him.

"You're mad if you think I'd pass up a chance to put my hands all over this gorgeous body of yours." He bent his head to bring his lips to hers, but Olivia let him claim only a brief kiss before pulling back.

"You're working, Cory. And so am I. I want to talk to some of the guests about what they like best about Sunfish Island. Get some idea of what draws people here in the first place." She gave him an apologetic smile, and he let her go with no sign of reluctance.

"Damn, I love smart women who are right all the time."

She gave him a pert smile for that remark before whirling away, snorkeling gear in hand, to go and get started on her job. It would be easy to get carried away in her romance with Cory, but that wasn't why she was here. She was being given a chance to repair her ruined professional reputation, a chance she'd never get anywhere else, and she had no intention of throwing that away.

Olivia was sitting and chatting with a friendly middle-aged couple when the engines slowed to a gentle throb. Looking out the window beside her, she saw they had drawn up to a small pontoon, which was obviously moored in place. Cory was standing on it and tied off a rope before he gave Jodie a thumbs-up and the engines died altogether.

The sudden silence was almost overwhelming. Cory and Jodie leaped into action, urging everyone off the boat and onto the pontoon, where Cory gave a quick talk about safety, warning everyone not to touch the coral and to stay within sight of the pontoon.

"We're in a bay with very little current, but if you get into any difficulty, turn over onto your back and raise your hand in the air, and I'll come get you," he concluded.

"Aren't you coming in, Cory?" one of his admirers asked.

"Afraid not. Jodie and I are your lifeguards. We're responsible for every one of you, so we'll be staying right here, watching over you. Now has everyone got their sunscreen on? Don't want any red lobsters coming back out of this water!"

There was a general chorus of agreement, then Cory gave them the go-ahead to enter the water. Olivia went in eagerly, keen to see the world-famous reef, although of course she was only seeing a tiny, tiny corner of the World Heritage Site here.

Almost instantly she found herself swimming through a school of tiny, brightly colored fish darting in and out of the coral. A manta ray lifted up from a patch of sand not far away and flew majestically through the turquoise water, wings sweeping slowly up and down.

She saw a new wonder everywhere she looked. She was a strong swimmer, so she had no problem staying under for a good amount of time, blowing bubbles and swimming with long, smooth kicks of her fins to propel herself through the water. It would be easy to lose track of time down here, she thought with a start when she surfaced to get a few deep breaths, checked the time, and found that almost an hour had passed already. She'd swum quite some distance from the pontoon; looking back at it, she found Cory peering towards her. He gave her a wave and she waved back before popping her mouthpiece back in and going facedown in the water again, heading back towards the pontoon this time.

"Enjoying yourself?" Cory said with a grin down at her as she surfaced near his feet.

"This is incredible," Olivia gave him a glowing, happy smile, pulling her mask off. "I mean, I've seen pictures, but I always assumed they were the exception—selected highlights, you know. Not the norm. But it's just as perfect down there as in every picture I've ever seen."

"You really have to go diving with Bryce. The outer reefs have even more variety." Cory reached for a large cooler he'd brought from the boat. "Want to hop out and have a drink of water? We've got about another half hour."

She accepted his offer of a hand out and sat on the edge of the pontoon, dangling her feet in the water as she drained the bottle of water he gave her.

"Hand me the bottle," Cory requested as she finished. "Gotta make sure we take all our rubbish back with us."

"Of course."

"Going back in?" He'd stayed standing beside her, but he wasn’t looking at her, his eyes constantly scanning over the water checking on the other snorkelers instead. He took his job seriously, which Olivia genuinely appreciated. She wouldn't have wanted a man who flirted while he was supposed to be looking out for the safety of others.

She went back into the water for another swim and mainly floated along the surface this time, watching the schools of brightly colored fish darting among the coral and thinking that when she went into town to buy a new laptop, she'd have to have a look at waterproof cameras. An Instagram was just one of the ideas she planned to implement for Sunfish, and posting new photos from the Reef every day would be a big draw.

Chapter 7

On the way back to the resort, everyone was quiet, tired from their exertions. Olivia sat staring vaguely out over the blue water, her mind whirling with plans. She barely noticed when Cory sat down alongside her, but when he casually put his arm around her shoulders, she flinched with sudden pain.

"Ouch!"

Startled, he pulled back. "Olivia? Are you okay?"

His arm had really hurt when it pressed against her, and now that she was thinking on it, the skin all over her shoulders and back felt sore and tight.

"Oh my God. I'm such an idiot."

He leaned back and looked at her, at the T-shirt she was wearing over her bikini. The white T-shirt, which was drying out now and was no longer quite as alluringly transparent as it had been earlier.

"You forgot to put sunscreen on under the T-shirt, didn't you? Forgot that you'd burn through it once it got wet."

"I'm such an idiot," she said again, tears starting in her eyes.

"Shush, it's okay. It happens. Look, when we get back, go straight to your cabin and take a cool shower, okay? I'll help Jodie clear the boat and I'll come straight over with a bottle of aloe. We'll get you through it." He pressed a light kiss to her brow.

"Olivia?" Cory tapped gently on her screen door. The glass door to the inside of the cabin was open, but the drapes were drawn behind it. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," came the soft reply, and he opened the screen to enter, pushing aside the drapes.

She lay facedown on the bed, wearing only a pair of cotton bikini panties. Cory sucked in a breath at the state of her back, broken by the white lines where her bikini had covered her. The sunscreen had done its job on the backs of her thighs, and she'd obviously worked it up onto her shoulders as well, but her lower and upper back were an angry red.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna be really sore for a few days."

"Don't rub it in." She turned her head to the side, resting her cheek on the pillow, and stared at him. "Or rather, if that's aloe you've got in that bottle, do rub it in. Lots of it."

"Certainly is." She was in the middle of the bed, so Cory had plenty of room to sit down on the edge, crack open the bottle, and pour a generous amount of aloe into the middle of her back. "This isn't exactly the way I'd hoped to get my hands all over your beautiful body," he teased as he gently smoothed the thick gel over her burned skin.

"Wasn't what I had in mind either," Olivia griped, "but since it feels really good, I'm not complaining." She smiled crookedly up at him, and he couldn't resist leaning down to kiss her. "You'll need to do it at least a couple of times a day until I'm all better too," she added cheekily when he straightened back up, and Cory couldn't help but laugh. God, she was a delight; he'd been attracted to her from the moment he saw her, but in getting to know her, he realized she was so much more than just an admittedly very pretty face.

"I am your willing slave," he jested, pouring on some more aloe when he saw that her skin had already soaked in the first application. "You should really stay here under the air conditioner for tonight at least; can I get you something to eat? More water?" He saw an almost empty water bottle on the night stand; at least she was drinking. She'd need to.

"Both, please. I skipped lunch because I was worried about getting seasick and I'm starving," Olivia confessed.

"No headache?" A headache could indicate sunstroke as well as the burn, but she shook her head.

"Honestly, I feel fine apart from an extremely sore back."

He finished smoothing the thick gel into her back, then went into her bathroom to wash his hands. "I'll be back in a bit with some food. Anything in particular?" He recalled that she had a good appetite, having seen her eat lunch yesterday. He wouldn't skimp on the portion.

"Anything, I'm not fussy." Olivia shrugged and winced as the movement tugged at her sore skin. "Could you get me some more water? There's a jug in the fridge in there." She waved a hand vaguely at the door that led into the lounge.

"Gotcha." Cory picked up the near-empty bottle, headed into the next room, and came face-to-face with Suzannah. She raised her eyebrows, looking past him at Olivia lying facedown on her bed in only a pair of panties.

"Well, you certainly move fast, surfer boy," she drawled, looking amused and highly entertained.

"It's not like that. She's got a sunburn."

Suzannah's smirk vanished at once. "Merde, on her first day? How did you manage that, Olivia?" She pushed past Cory and bent over Olivia with a concerned frown. "Oh, that is going to hurt."

"Already does, but Cory's been generous with the aloe." Olivia gave her roommate a wry smile. "My fault. I forgot I'd burn through my T-shirt once it got wet, and didn't put sunscreen on my back before I went snorkeling."

Cory came back in with the water bottle and set it down on the nightstand. "I'm gonna go get her some dinner," he said. "Are you working tonight, Suze?" He suspected he knew the answer; the restaurants were just about to open and the chef would have already been in action for quite a while if she were on duty.

"No." Suze shook her head. "My night off. Which is good, I can keep Olivia company and we can get to know each other, yes? In fact, if you are going to be room service waiter, Cory, you could bring me some as well." She grinned at him, and he threw his hands up in surrender, laughing.

"I shall return!"

"You comfortable?" Suzannah asked as soon as Cory was gone. "Need more aloe?"

"Has it soaked in already?" Olivia groaned when Suzannah confirmed it had. "Yes, please. But just to clarify, I had no problem with Cory being here and rubbing it in for me."

Suzannah laughed throatily as she picked up the aloe bottle Cory had left behind. "Trust me, sugar, I wouldn't have a problem with that hunk of delicious man rubbing his hands all over my naked body either!"

Olivia couldn't help but giggle at Suzannah's remark, delivered in her thick French accent that could have made reciting the telephone directory sound unbearably sensual. Suzannah had brought in her laptop, and the two girls lay side by side on the bed, swapping favorite websites, when Cory returned bearing a covered tray.

"It's amazing what results I get when casually mentioning that this was for you, Suzannah," he said, hooking an ankle around a chair and pulling it up to the end of the bed. "Why do I have the feeling all your kitchen staff are terrified of you?"

"Because they are," she replied, perfectly unruffled. "If a chef's staff are not calling her a tyrant when her back is turned, she is not doing her job properly."

Olivia and Cory just looked at each other.

"You'll never understand, so don't try," Olivia warned. "I did some marketing campaigns for restaurants in New York. The chefs are a law unto themselves, and it's pretty much expected. I don't think they live in the same world as the rest of us."

"We live in the world of good food," Suzannah said regally, claiming the bags Cory had brought with him and opening them, sniffing inside each and wrinkling her nose. "Let us see what offerings my followers believe are fit for consumption tonight."

Cory tactfully headed into the lounge while Olivia sat up and pulled on a loose shirt. He returned with plates and cutlery, dragging the table over to the end of the bed so Suzannah could lay the food out on it. She sent him back to collect soda from the fridge, and he grinned at her.

"I can do better than that. I've got beer at my place."

"Fetch." Suzannah flipped her hand at him.

Olivia giggled as Cory trotted off to do Suzannah's bidding. "You are so bossy. Does everyone just ask how high when you say jump?"

"Why would they not?" Suzannah arched her brows curiously.

"Wow, I admire your confidence. Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Non. I intimidate a lot of men." Suzannah gave a very Gallic shrug. "But if a man is intimidated by me, then he is not man enough for me anyway. I'd prefer no man at all than a weak one." She slid a plate over to Olivia. "Here. Tell me what you think of these."

Cory returned with a six-pack of cold beers, setting one down in front of each of the two girls and twisting the tops off. "Would you like a glass?" he checked with Olivia, suddenly wondering if she would think they were uncultured for drinking directly from the bottle.

"No, it's fine." She smiled up at him, picked up the bottle, and took a long sip.

Olivia couldn't remember the last time she’d such an enjoyable evening. The food Suzannah's staff had sent her was absolutely amazing, the beer ice-cold, and the company excellent. They must have been making enough noise to sound like quite a party, because Rosie soon tapped on the screen door and came in to join them. Bryce, the dive instructor, followed not long after, though Cory promptly sent him back out for more beers.

"I think she's asleep."

Olivia roused enough to mutter, "No 'm not," and heard Cory's quiet laugh.

"Yes, you are, angel. Shh. I've kicked everyone out. Let's get that shirt off and I'll put some more aloe on your back before you sleep."

"I can do that," Suzannah's accented voice said, but Olivia waved her off, sitting up to fumble at her shirt buttons.

"No offense, but I like Cory's hands on me better."

Suzannah laughed, nudging Cory. "All right, but you, keep those hands on the burned parts only, hmm?"

"Scout's honor," he promised.

"Do you even have Boy Scouts here in Australia?" She was maybe a little bit drunk, Olivia realized, as her words slightly slurred. She'd only had three beers but that was a lot more than she usually drank these days. In her time at the center of the social whirl of New York, she'd probably had a much higher alcohol tolerance.

"Yes, we do. Need the bathroom? Come on, those teeth want scrubbing." Cory helped her up and into the bathroom, going back out to give her privacy but not quite closing the door, insisting she keep talking to him. When she came back out and gave him a grumpy look, he even managed to keep his eyes on her face and not her exposed breasts as he led her back to bed and helped her get comfortable on her stomach.

"You're such a sweet guy," Olivia mumbled as he poured more aloe on her back and smoothed it in gently.

"I'll be honest and say that my thoughts are not at all sweet at the moment." He lightly stroked the two dimples on either side of the base of her spine. "And that if you weren't so badly burned, me giving you a back massage would be a prelude to something other than sleep."

Olivia smiled into her pillow. "Can I get a rain check on that?"

"Anytime." She felt a gentle kiss on her nape, then Cory drew the sheet gently up over her. "Get some sleep, Olivia. And stay out of the sun tomorrow!"

"Stay," she said impulsively as his weight lifted off the bed.

"Hmm?"

"Would you stay? And just sleep here?"

"You sure?"

"Yes, please."

"Give me five minutes." He left her alone but was back in less than the time he'd promised, breath smelling freshly of toothpaste. Wearing a T-shirt and boxers, he slid into bed beside her. "This okay?"

Cheek turned towards him on the pillow, Olivia gave him a sleepy smile. "Perfect."

"Sleep well then, angel." He leaned over to kiss her lips gently before turning out the light.

Chapter 8

Olivia woke with a sore, stinging back, and an exceptionally comfortable front. At some point during the night, she'd apparently migrated completely atop Cory and now lay with her cheek on his chest, head tucked under his chin, breasts pressed against his rock-hard abs, their legs tangled together. It could scarcely be a more intimate position.

Cory was still asleep, his broad chest rising and falling slowly. It was a comforting rhythm, and if Olivia hadn't been so sore, she'd probably have been soothed straight back to sleep. As it was, one of his broad hands was splayed across the small of her back and she felt hot and sweaty. Edging carefully off him, she headed for the bathroom.

"What time is it?" Cory mumbled sleepily as she returned.

"Almost six," she replied quietly, checking her watch.

"Ugh, I gotta get up. I'm taking a group on a rainforest hike." He sat up, eying her appreciatively in the early morning light filtering past the blinds. Olivia smirked at him as she sat on the bed, making no effort to cover her bare breasts.

"Getting a good view there?"

"Magnificent," he breathed, eyes riveted as she deliberately took a few deep breaths. Giving himself a shake, he reached to the nightstand. "But I know the back view won't be pretty. Down on your face, angel."

She lay down without a word, extremely keen to get another soothing layer of aloe on her back. The skin felt hot and tight; she hadn't gotten much of a glimpse in the dimly lit bathroom when she peered over her shoulder at herself in the mirror, but enough to know that her back was practically glowing.

"You should really stay here and rest today," Cory said, generously slathering the aloe over her back. "I'll get someone to bring you some breakfast and check in on you through the day. I've got a really busy one scheduled, unfortunately. I'll get some more aloe for you too."

"I don't want to be a bother, and really, I should get up..."

"You should absolutely not. I saw Luke last night when I was fetching dinner and told him you'd got a nasty burn; if he sees you around the resort today, he'll be ordering your ass back to bed, so you may as well stay here."

"I'll go mad with boredom!" Olivia protested mutinously.

"No, you won't, because Suze left you her laptop." Cory gestured to where it sat on the desk. "She'll have it connected to the resort's staff Wi-Fi too, so you can binge on Netflix all you like."

"Netflix and chill?" Olivia gave him a wicked grin as he moved away, heading for the bathroom to wash his hands.

"In the most literal use of the term, yeah." He grinned over his shoulder at her, so she knew he was aware of the colloquial meaning. "But when you're better, I would love to Netflix and chill with you."

Cory dropped a kiss on her cheek and smoothed her hair before departing. "Try and get some more sleep," he said before closing the screen door quietly behind him.

Feeling wide awake, Olivia thought she wouldn't go back to sleep, but she must have dozed off, because the next thing she knew, there was a quiet tapping on the screen door.

"Olivia, you awake?"

"Uh-huh," she managed vaguely. It was a woman's voice, so she didn't worry about pulling a sheet over her, though she wished she had when the door slid open and Jill came in.

"Hey." Jill set a tray down on the desk. "How are you doing... oh wow, that is some burn. Cory wasn't exaggerating."

Her back felt sore again; too much so to hold on to her pride. "Would you put some more aloe on for me?" Olivia begged pathetically.

"Of course. Cory told me to bring more." Jill held up a fresh bottle. Her expression looked genuinely sympathetic, Olivia thought. "I'm sorry."

Did her words have more than one meaning? She sounded contrite rather than just sympathetic. "What for?" Olivia asked as Jill squirted a fresh glob of aloe onto her back.

"I've been a bitch, and you didn't deserve it."

Olivia lay silent for a moment before saying, "I feel like someone's read you the riot act. Was it Cory?"

"Rosie, actually. She said you were really nice and it's none of my business who Cory wants to date. Which is absolutely true." Jill's hands stilled on her back. "He's not really a player, if you hadn't figured it out yet."

"I was pretty sure."

"Yeah, it's pretty obvious." Jill sighed and got up, going to wash her hands. "I'm not really still in love with him," she said, returning and sitting at the desk, reaching to put the tray beside Olivia on the bed. "I was just... jealous that he's finally moving on. He hadn't so much as looked at anyone in ages."

Olivia said nothing, just picked up the sealed cup of orange juice on the tray and opened it. The tray held a covered plate that contained a still-warm croissant and a flaky Danish, a little pat of butter on one side. "I don't suppose your olive branch extends to making me a coffee, does it?" she asked hopefully.

Jill's worried expression eased and she laughed. "Of course it does," she said warmly. "I think I owe you a few, to be frank. How do you like it?"

"Well, my regular barista back on the corner of Madison Avenue and East 32nd Street used to make me an amazing cinnamon-vanilla macchiato," Olivia said and couldn't hold in her laughter at Jill's horrified expression. "Milk and no sugar will be perfect."

Jill giggled too as she went to put the kettle on. "For a moment there I thought I was getting belted in the face with that olive branch!"

Olivia quickly discovered that she liked Jill a lot. The other girl was sharply witty and great fun to be around when her jealousy wasn't eating her alive. Jill shyly asked if Olivia would like some company as she didn't have anywhere to be that morning. Later she mentioned she was working late that day, as she was taking the boat into Airlie Beach to collect a large group that was arriving at the mainland airport in the early evening.

"I want to go." Olivia desperately needed to go clothes shopping, and to replace the electronics that had been drowned in her fall off the boat.

"Cory said you should stay here..."

"Are you serious? Cory is definitely not the boss of me. I'll be fine. I'll cover every inch of skin, I promise... and I'll stick to you like glue so I don't get lost."

Jill snickered. "I suppose I could show you the good shops. Some of them are a bit too touristy and expensive. The boat goes in earlier to deliver the departing tourists to the airport, so we could have a good couple hours before we need to collect the new arrivals."

"Sounds like a plan. What time do we have to leave?"

Jill still took a bit of persuading, but Olivia eventually convinced her that she would go mad if she had to stay in bed all day. She found a button-down denim shirt in the things Rosie had loaned her and put it on without a bra—the straps would have been too painful on her sore skin. Fortunately she wasn't so well-endowed that she'd bounce. A pair of long linen trousers from her own wardrobe, a large sunhat and sunglasses, and Jill pronounced her safe to go outside.

Several hours later, tired but content, Olivia was half drowsing when Jill nudged her.

"Think you might have a small problem."

"Hm?" She jolted out of her doze, looked where Jill was pointing as the boat came in to dock. "Oh dear." Cory's height and blond hair were unmistakable, as was the way he paced up and down the dock. "Do you think he's gonna be a grump because I didn't obey his orders to stay in bed?"

"Not once he sees that you're perfectly fine, no." Jill grinned at her. "I highly recommend grabbing him and sticking your tongue down his throat to cut off any tirade before he gets started, though."

"Good idea, because I'll probably smack his face if he tries to boss me around!" The two girls were fast friends after spending the afternoon together. Jill had kept her word to show Olivia the shops, and helped to carry the bags full of her purchases back to the boat before they headed for the airport, and in turn Olivia had helped Jill corral the arriving guests and get them all organized.

Cory seemed to be struggling with himself as he watched Olivia disembark laden with shopping bags. She walked towards him a little hesitantly, offered up a small smile.

"Shopping? Really?" he said resignedly.

"You did witness all my electronics getting drowned." She waved the bag containing her new laptop, tablet, and mobile phone at him. "Plus, I really need some Sunfish-appropriate clothing. Can't be wearing Rosie's stuff all the time."

He sighed, and to his credit said not one word about her promise to stay in her room. Which technically, she hadn't actually given, Olivia thought virtuously. Instead, he just held out his hands. "Can I carry those for you?"

Olivia beamed at him and unloaded the heavier bags from her haul. "You earn lots of brownie points for that, you realize."

"I was hoping. Is there a reward?" Cory smiled at last.

"There could be." She gave him a coquettish look. "But it'll have to be delivered in private."

Cory walked very quickly, long legs eating up the ground as he headed purposefully back to the staff accommodation area. Laughing her ass off, Olivia followed. By the time she caught up, he was unpacking her electronics purchases on her desk.

"Figured I'd save you some time. Now, about that reward?"

"Well"—she deposited her own bags on the chair—"you get to put your hands all over me again."

"How's that back?" He came over to gently ease her shirt off her shoulders as she unfastened the buttons, hissing softly between his teeth as he saw her back. "Still red as hell, but it does look a bit better, I think."

"I want a shower. Want to come in and wash my back?" She cast him a coquettish look over her shoulder. Catching her waist in his hands, Cory pressed a kiss to her shoulder before seeking her lips.

"Definitely," he said, voice dropping to a low husk. "I'll wash any body part you like. All of them."

"Sounds good to me." Dropping her shorts and panties, she darted ahead of him into the bathroom. Cory didn’t hesitate in giving chase, though he drew the line at hopping under the shower as she stepped straight under it, hissing with pleasure as the cool water rained down on her back.

"You are one hardcore ballsy babe," he said admiringly, stopping to shuck his own clothes.

Olivia peered at him from underneath the spray. "What does that even mean?"

"It means I'm crazy about you, you beautiful, crazy, impulsive woman." His eyes moved to her breasts, where her nipples had peaked hard in the cold water. It was starting to warm up, though, so he stepped in with her and closed the shower screen, sliding his arms around her and bending his head to kiss her as she tilted her face up to smile at him.

Olivia moved into Cory's arms confidently as the water warmed. She'd set the mixer tap only to lukewarm, but it was a hot day and any warmer than that would feel unpleasant on her burned back anyway. His lips were soft on hers at first, then more demanding as she parted them and flicked her tongue against his. Her hands landed on his arms and gripped the thick muscles of his biceps, fingertips exploring the way his skin felt beneath her touch.

His hands avoided the tender skin of her back by going straight down to grasp her ass and pull her flush against his body. His cock was hard, pressing against her belly, and the hair on his chest rubbed against her breasts, stimulating her nipples. She closed her eyes, melting against him; her whole body felt sensitive, every touch magnified. Heat gathered between her thighs, but there was no rush, no hurry. She reached for her shower gel and squirted some into her hand, reaching up to rub it into Cory's chest.

"Let's get you all clean," Olivia said, her voice coming out low and husky.

"Before we get really, really dirty?" Cory said hopefully, taking the bottle from her.

"Works for me." She turned as he tugged on her hip, letting him soap her back gently and remove the residue of sticky aloe there. He nuzzled his cheek against her hair and nibbled lightly on the tip of her ear. Olivia's mouth opened in a soft gasp as she leaned back against him.

Cory's hands moved slow but sure as they glided from her hips over her stomach, slick with soap suds, and curved under her breasts to cup them gently before his thumbs flicked over her nipples.

Olivia hummed with pleasure, rocking her head sideways against Cory's shoulder so she could reach up to kiss him. He had to lean down for their lips to meet, not that she minded in the slightest. They kissed slow and sensual, tongues dancing with each other as Cory caressed her breasts, squeezing and rolling her nipples between fingers and thumbs until she moaned and ground her ass back against the heavy erection he pressed against her.

He lifted his head to look down at her, his blue eyes dark with passion. "Olivia." His voice was deeper, a husky note in it.

"Yes." He hadn't asked a question, but the answer was still inevitable. There was no soap on them now, and she turned the shower off, took his hand, and led him back to the bedroom, both of them still dripping water. She paused only to grab one of her bags from her shopping haul and fish out the large box of condoms.

Cory grinned at the sight. "Good plan."

"Yup, and here's another. Lie down."

"Want to be on top, huh? I can live with that." He eased onto the bed and reclined comfortably, gazing up at her with appreciation as she tore into the plastic wrapper on the condom box. "Probably easier on your back too."

"That had entered into my thinking," she admitted, extracting a single foil packet and tossing the box onto the nightstand.

Cory's cock stood stiff and proud from a nest of dark golden curls. Olivia stroked it a few times, enjoying the way he gasped and shifted at her touch and how his blue eyes darkened before he caught her wrist and pulled her towards him. "Come here," he requested, reaching down and stroking lightly up her thigh. "Come sit on my face."

"Oh... it's okay, I..."

"I want to taste you," Cory admitted, looking up at her. "Come here, Olivia."

A flush rose to her cheeks, but she nodded, climbing onto the bed and moving to straddle his face. He curled his arms around her thighs, shifting down slightly on the pillows, humming with appreciation as he positioned himself just right.

"So pretty," he murmured before his tongue flicked out, lapping gently over her folds, forming into a point to nudge back the hood of her clit.

"Oh my God." The bed had no headboard, so Olivia had to place her hands on the wall to try to steady herself. Cory knew exactly what he was doing with his tongue, and he lost no time in driving her absolutely crazy, to the point where she ended up shoving one of her own hands in her mouth to try to muffle her shrieks of pleasure.

"You're delightfully noisy," Cory murmured, easily shifting her down his body until she straddled his hips, though he was careful to make sure his cock went between them, pressing against her stomach. Olivia could only gasp and shudder before collapsing to lie on his broad chest.

"Okay there?" Cory kept his hands away from her sore back, stroking his fingertips in slow, rhythmic circles on the outsides of her thighs instead as her breathing gradually slowed.

"No," Olivia said.

"No?" There was laughter in his voice as he kissed her hair.

"Too good," she sighed, shifting languorously against him. "That mouth of yours is absolutely wicked."

Pleased with himself, Cory was quite happy to just hold her for a while, though his cock ached to plunge deep into her. At length she stilled her small movements and lifted her head to look at him. Her smile was absolutely glorious, and he gazed at her, spellbound by her beauty. At least until she wriggled back, reaching for the condoms, and tore one of the packets open.

"Aahh, so good." Cords stood out in Cory's neck as he flung his head back, gritting his teeth. Olivia laughed softly as she rolled the condom on, stroking both hands down firmly, pausing to caress over his tightly swollen balls.

"Something you need?"

"Damn right there is!" His hands closed on her hips and he lifted her, shifting to push up against her. She kept one hand wrapped around the base of his cock until she'd guided the head right where she wanted it.

Cory groaned as Olivia sank slowly down onto him, his cock sliding deep into her tight, wet channel. She hummed with pleasure, pushing down hard to take him fully inside and rocking her hips, setting up a rhythm that was going to get him off pretty damn quickly.

"Jeez, Olivia, slow down," he gasped, sliding a hand between them to find her clit and slide a finger over it. She moaned but didn't obey his request, her curls bouncing as she rode him rapidly to a mutual climax as satisfying as either of them could possibly have wanted.

Afterwards, Olivia lay on Cory's chest, listening to the thump of his heartbeat below her ear as it steadied back to a normal rhythm. His hands lay loosely on her upper thighs; even in the throes of orgasm, he hadn't touched her sore back, and her heart swelled with affection for him, for his consideration and his gentleness.

When she'd fled New York with her tail metaphorically between her legs, she'd hoped for merely somewhere safe and quiet to lick her wounds, far from the glare of the spotlight and the tattered remains of her career. She'd never thought for a moment that she might be lucky enough to find friends like Rosie, Suzannah, and Jill; never dared to dream she might find a man like Cory, who was willing to take a chance on a relationship with her even knowing everything about her past.

Lying there listening to Cory's breathing slow as he drifted towards sleep, Olivia knew a contentment she'd never before experienced. Here on the far side of the world, on a tropical island far removed from where she'd ever expected she might end up, she'd finally found home.

Letting her eyes close, Olivia let herself drift off to sleep, held securely in Cory's arms. Whatever the future might hold for the two of them—and she hoped that it held a great deal—she knew that no matter what, she would always have a place with her friends on Sunfish Island.

A Note From The Author

I hope you enjoyed reading Finding Cory. The first story set on Sunfish Island Resort, it introduces many of the characters you’ll meet in future stories – the next story, The Reluctant Billionaire, features Nessa the bartender and one of the mysterious owners of the island! If you enjoyed this story, please do take a moment to leave us a review!

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About the Author

Caitlyn Lynch is an Australian mother of two who has always enjoyed reading and writing romantic fiction. Happily married to her very own tall, dark and handsome for 14 years and counting, she draws on a rich imagination to create new scenarios for her steamy contemporary romances.

A bestselling author, she has twice been selected as a finalist for Romance Writers Australia short story anthologies in 2017.

You can find her at caitlynlynch.com or on her social media accounts.

Website: http://www.caitlynlynch.com

Email: cait@caitlynlynch.com

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Caitlyn also writes historical, Jane Austen inspired novels as Catherine Bilson.

Other Works by Caitlyn Lynch

Dana’s Duo

Hot for Heather

Elevator Encounters Series

Ellie’s Encounter

Juliet’s Romeo

The Best Man for Leah (Included in the Just You & Me box set)

Ranger Heat Series

First Submission

Second Surrender

Third Thrills

Sunfish Island Resort Series

Finding Cory (Included in the Tropical Tryst box set)

The Reluctant Billionaire (Included in the Billionaire Ever After box set)

The Shenanigans Press Anthologies

Stocking Stuffers

Red Hots

Summer Heat

Halloween Anthology (upcoming)

Murder with a Kiss

Stacy-Deanne

When her twin brother Kirby is murdered, Kayla heads to Kingston, Jamaica to find out who would want her brother dead. Because they were estranged, Kayla feels guilty for not having a relationship with Kirby and vows to bring his killer to justice.

Kayla teams up with Kirby’s best friend, Tate, who seems just as anxious for answers as she does. Kayla struggles with an attraction to the sexy tour guide, but loses the battle while Tate introduces her to the sensuous allure of Jamaica. Before Kayla can catch her breath, she and Tate begin an intoxicating romance that has her dying for more.

As they become closer, Kayla believes her new lover is the only one she can trust to find the truth. However, a shocking development in the case suggests Tate might know more about Kirby’s murder than he lets on.

Chapter 1

Thirty-seven-year-old Kayla Atkins grabbed the scissors off her brother’s bedroom dresser as footsteps approached.

She clutched her pounding chest, hid in the corner behind the door and held her breath.

The door opened and the tip of a white sneaker came into view.

Kayla leapt from the corner, aiming the scissors at the man.

“Ah!” An average-built white man with a medium tan fell against the dresser.

Kayla lunged at him again, stabbing the scissors through the air.

“Stop!” The man ran to the other side of the bed, royal-blue eyes big as golf balls. “Kayla, wait!”

“Kayla?” She stopped in place, dropping her arm. “Who the hell are you?”

“I’m the man in the picture.” He pointed to the photo on the chest of the stranger standing with his arm around her brother Kirby.

“What the hell?” She snatched the photo and looked back at the man.

“I’m Tate.” He stood straight, huffing and puffing. “Tate O’Keefe. I was your brother’s best friend.”

“Jesus.” Kayla set the photo on the dresser, her stomach swirling with butterflies. “Are you crazy?”

His fluffy, flaxen curls hung over his forehead. “I’m not the one trying to kill people with scissors.”

“You have no business being here.” She slammed the scissors on the dresser. “Who just walks into someone’s house? How did you get in here?”

“The landlord let me in. I assume that’s how you got in?”

“You gave me a heart attack.” She flung her long, loose waves off her shoulder. “I almost killed you.”

He chuckled, pulling at his white T-shirt. “You don’t have to remind me.” His gaze settled on her face, forcing shyness she didn’t realize she had. “So.” He tugged on his baggy, indigo jeans, giving her a once over. “You’re Kayla. Wow.”

“My brother told you about me?”

He caught his bottom lip between his teeth. “He said you were twins but you’re a lot prettier than he was.”

Her temperature rose.

“I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t believe he’s gone.”

Kayla stared at the photo of Kirby and Tate, fixated on her brother’s beige-brown skin and shoulder-length dreadlocks. “He looks so happy in this picture. I’ve missed his smile. I’d forgotten he could.”

“Are you all right?” Tate moved closer, his Pina Colada scent filling the room. “You missed the funeral.”

She closed her eyes as tears escaped her thick lashes. “I missed everything it seems.” She sat on the bed, rubbing the naked mattress.

“The police took the sheets to check for DNA.” Tate sat beside her, close as if he’d known her for years. “It’s been a month and I still can’t believe what happened in this room.”

“Losing any sibling is hard but a twin? I can’t explain how lost I feel. And, the way he died. Stabbed fourteen times?” Her voice cracked. “How? Who? Why would someone wanna do that to my brother?”

“That’s what I’d like to know.”

“I never wanted him to move to Jamaica.” She rubbed the thighs of her white slacks. “He moved here because our dad’s family is from Kingston and he wanted to be closer to the culture.”

Tate leaned forward, clasping his long fingers. “Why didn’t you come to the funeral?”

“Denial.” She stretched out her long legs. “It was easier to stay in Florida and pretend that this wasn’t real. But, I owe it to Kirby to find out what happened. That’s why I’m here.”

“The police have no leads.” He shrugged. “I doubt you’ll be able to do better than them.”

“Are they really doing anything? Everyone seems so laid back in Jamaica.”

“It’s a place of fun and relaxation but people get serious when they need to be.”

She looked at him, wondering how a white man with a Jersey accent ended up in Kingston. “I was looking around to find clues or something the police might have missed. God.” She sobbed into her hands. “If only I’d taken the time to make things right with him. I’m the worst sister in the world.”

“Sh.” Tate wrapped his arm around her shoulder, and she felt an instant bond she couldn’t explain. “You can’t blame yourself.”

“I wasn’t here when he needed me. We let a silly argument from years ago tear us apart and it makes no sense.”

“Kirby loved you and he wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.”

“He was all I had.”

“It’s almost two-thirty.” He let her go. “Have you eaten anything?”

“I just got into town a few hours ago and headed right over here after checking into the hotel.”

“I was about to get lunch.” He stood. “Why don’t you join me? Maybe we can figure out some things together.”

“I don’t think I can eat.” She stood, rubbing her stomach. “My stomach’s tied in knots.”

“Let me buy you lunch. Are you familiar with Jamaican cuisine?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll take you to one of my favorite restaurants. I guarantee you’ll wanna eat once you smell the food.”

She got her purse and followed him into the hall. “Wait.”

He turned, facing her.

“What were you doing here?”

“The same as you.” He lowered his gaze. “Hope to find a reason someone would kill Kirby.”

She passed him. “There’s never a reason to stab someone fourteen times.”

Kayla relaxed in the passenger’s seat of Tate’s jeep as he drove through the dusty streets past outside food markets.

Men and women with skin tones ranging from cinnamon-brown to coal-black, sold everything from alcohol to jewelry.

“This is your one-stop shop down here.” Tate slowed as people crossed the street from various directions. “Anything and everything you want, you can find down here.”

“Purses!” A bone-thin, yellow-skinned Jamaican with a short afro waved purses as Tate drove.

“My god.” Kayla twisted in her seat, taking in the scrambling people. “It’s like this every day?”

“This is downtown Kingston right here.” Tate pushed his shades up and made a right. “It’s a great place to find a bargain but beware.” He peeked at her with his eyes over his lenses. “Every hustler in Jamaica hangs out here.” He made a left onto another street where men, wearing dreads of different lengths, hollered and laughed.

“When I was researching Jamaica online…” Kayla’s head rocked with the jeep’s movements. “The first thing it said was be careful of scammers and watch your belongings.”

“Ain’t that the truth? Things sprout legs and run off in Jamaica.” Tate laughed. “It’s a beautiful place, but it has a dark side too.”

Kayla nodded, her nose stuffed with the scent of smoked meats, vegetables and yams.

“Here we go.” Tate pulled into a lot of potholes and parked in front of an ivory, shack-like building with the doors wide open and flies traveling in and out.

“This is the Lotus Bar and Grill.” Smiling, Tate took his keys out the ignition. “It doesn’t look like much but it’s some of the best food in Kingston.” He got out the car, headed to her side and opened the door. “After you, Ma’am.”

Jittery, Kayla slipped her purse onto her arm and entered the restaurant, hit but a melody of sweet and spicy aromas. “God, it smells great in here.”

Tate touched the curve of her back. “Doesn’t it?”

She didn’t understand why he felt so comfortable to touch her but she didn’t mind.

Two heavyset, medium-brown women wearing lime green and black halter dresses with braids, waved at the couple.

“Wah gwaan,” the one with the corn rolls shouted.

“Hey!” Tate waved back, smiling from ear-to-ear.

He rattled off something in Pawta, which impressed Kayla with how well he’d picked up the language.

“This is Kayla.” He pointed to her while introducing the women.

“Hello.” The shorter woman smiled so big that her eyes sunk in her face.

“Hello.” Kayla waved. “Nice to meet you.”

“This is Kirby’s sister,” Tate said.

The women’s smiles disappeared, and they threw Kayla condolences through their thick accents.

“I appreciate that, thanks.” She sighed. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”

“Sorry about that,” Tate said. “You’ll get a lot of that while you’re here. Kirby was quite popular.” He urged her to the square table underneath the ceiling fan and helped her into her seat.

“A gentleman, huh?” Kayla hooked her purse on the back of the wooden chair.

“Well, it’s not every day I’m in the company of such a fascinating creature.” Tate sat across from her and laid his shades on the table. “You certainly give a strong first impression.”

“Sorry again for almost killing you.”

“I forgive you.” He sat back, grinning. “What do you think of the place?”

“Nice.” She examined the black scuff marks on the beige and white tile. “A lot of wood.” She tapped her fingers on the orange and white place mat. “It’s got charm.”

“This is Jamaica all the way.” Tate spread his arms out. “It’s the culture in one place.” He sniffed. “The aroma. You can smell every ingredient they use.”

“It’s intoxicating.” Kayla took in a strong whiff of cinnamon.

“What would you like?”

“I’m new here, remember?” She smirked, crossing her legs. “What would you recommend?”

“You can’t come to Jamaica and not have jerk chicken.”

“My grandmother made jerk chicken every once in a while when I was a kid.”

“No disrespect but I doubt hers was half as good as what you’d get in this place. So does that sound good? And some dessert?”

“Good as this place smells I’d eat a horse right now.”

Tate laughed and then shouted the order at the women who scurried to get the meals.

“It’s the middle of the day on a Tuesday,” Kayla said. “We’re the only ones here. You’d think there would be more people during lunch time.”

“It fills up in the evenings.” Tate moved the saltshaker out his way. “Most people are at work.”

“Do you work?”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “I work for myself.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a tour guide.”

“What?” She laughed. “Get outta here.”

He wiggled his shoulders, snickering. “Why is that funny?”

“You never meet someone who is a tour guide.” She stroked her hair. “At least I haven’t.”

“It’s the best job in the world.” His bushy, golden eyebrows rose. “I get paid to show people around my city.”

“Hm.” She poked her lips out, nodding. “Your own tour company, huh?”

“Just me, myself, and I. I make good money doing what I love. How many people can say that?”

“You’re interesting for sure.”

“I promise to never bore you.” He stood, winking. “You got to be thirsty in this heat.” He went to the soda machine. “You like soda?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Bet you never had Ting.” He got two cans out the machine and reclaimed his spot at the table. “Here you go.” He slid the green and yellow can toward her.

“What’s Ting?”

He popped open his can. “The soda of Jamaica. It’s delicious.” He slurped. “Made with grapefruit juice.”

“Smells kinda like Mountain Dew.” She sipped and a burst of sweet tartness invaded her mouth. “Whoa.”

“You like it?”

“It’s strong and sweet.” She licked the tangy drink from her lips. “Yeah, I like it. Kinda tastes like a cocktail.” She drank more, noticing his gaze on her. “What?”

“You want to ask me something don’t you?” Dimples sprouted from his high cheeks.

“I was just wondering something.” She crossed her arms on the table, situating her large breasts.

“I know what it is.” He turned the can around in his hand. “You’re wondering what a white guy with a Jersey accent is doing in Kingston in the first place, right?”

She swatted a fly off the table. “Why are you?”

He ran his hand through his curls. “I got bored in Jersey. It was the same old thing day in and day out. I needed adventure and I find plenty of those in Jamaica.”

She jerked, unprepared for the rush of desire flooding her body.

“You all right?”

“Yeah.” She straightened, clearing her throat. “Um, what types of adventures have you found here?”

“Stick around long enough and maybe I can show you.” His mouth rose in the corner, his stare intense yet controlled. “You’re a beautiful woman.”

“Jesus.” She dropped her head, desperate to rub anything against her pelvis. “It’s hot, huh?”

“Yeah.” Sweat drizzled down his muscular neck. “I have a feeling it’ll get hotter.”

Chapter 2

“T…thank you,” Kayla said.

Tate licked his lips. “For what?”

“For saying I’m beautiful.”

“Thank you for being beautiful.” He tilted his head. “This might sound like a line but when Kirby first showed me your picture I froze.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious.”

Three tall, lanky black men in flip-flops and lime green and black beanie caps, strolled in, taking notice of Kayla right away.

They snickered at her as they sat at the corner table by the soda machine.

She scoffed. “I see there are pigs everywhere in the world, huh?”

“You can’t blame them.” Tate sucked the soda can, making Kayla imagine how he’d suck something on her. “It’s not every day we see such beauty walking around.”

A high-pitched male voice called out from behind them.

Kayla sighed, facing the men.

One asked her something in Pawta and the other laughed.

“Hey,” Tate responded in their language.

The guys continued snickering.

“What?” Kayla asked. “What did he say?”

“Nothing a lady needs to hear.”

“What did he say?”

He rolled his eyes. “He says they wanna sleep with you.”

“You mean they want to fuck me.”

“You’re American?” the other man asked. “I hear about black American women.”

“Oh yeah?” Kayla hooked her arm on the back of her chair. “What do you hear?”

“You have big pussy.” The other guffawed. “Bet my friend and I can fill it. Give us a chance.”

“That’s enough,” Tate warned. “You want her thinking all Jamaicans are assholes like you?”

“We meant no harm.” One laughed, licking his tongue out at Kayla. “She’s pretty. We’re having fun with the pretty lady.”

“She’s not interested.”

Kayla turned back around. “How do you know?”

Tate puckered his lips to sip more soda. “Excuse me?”

“You just met me. I might be down for something like that.”

“By all means.” Tate gestured to the men. “If a threesome with some horny toads floats your boat…”

She laughed.

“You’re something else. Kirby always said that.”

“I’m used to men hitting on me all the time.” Kayla flicked her hand. “An occupational hazard.”

“Ah, yeah. Kirby said you’re a bartender, right?”

“Yep. I get hit on a thousand times a day.”

“You don’t look like a bartender.”

She pondered his statement. “What does a bartender look like?”

“With the way you fix yourself up, I’d think you would do something more glamorous.”

“I love my job.” She tugged on the diamond stud in her ear. “I get to meet different people and hear their stories. Guess it’s my way of having adventures.”

He dipped his head. “I can appreciate that.”

“Did Kirby talk about me a lot?”

“All the time.”

“I’m shocked.”

“Even though you had a falling out, he still loved you. He went out every April on your birthday to celebrate it.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No. He never missed it in the ten years he’d been living here. The thing is, he liked to do it alone. I guess it made him feel closer to you that way.”

“Why the hell didn’t he pick up the phone then?” She straightened the place mat. “We could’ve gotten past all the bullshit.”

“That’s the same thing he wondered about you. How come you never called him?”

“I wasn’t the one who ran off to Jamaica and never came back. That’s how Kirby always was, ran from his problems. I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what got him killed.”

“Here you go.” A woman from the front counter brought their food. “Jerk chicken and vegetables.” She set the large plates in front of them. “And gizzada for dessert.” She lay a bowl of two small, round pastries in front of them. “Enjoy.” She vanished behind the curtain that separated the kitchen from the front of the restaurant.

“Oh, god.” Kayla’s loins exploded when she inhaled the chicken enriched in curry. “What’s a gizzada?” She picked up the flakey pastry.

“It’s like a doughnut.” Tate pulled the drumstick from his chicken. “It’s filled with a coconut mixture.”

“I love coconut.”

“I know.”

“Kirby told you?” She sniffed the pastry and bit into the little pocket of heaven. “Wow. I’ll gain a hundred pounds while I’m here if all the food is this good.”

“Try the chicken.”

She took a tiny bite of the drumstick, the curry, cinnamon, and peppers had a party in her mouth. “My god. I…” She moaned. “I think I’m having an orgasm.”

Tate covered his mouth as he laughed. “Glad you like it.”

“Is all the food in Jamaica this good or is it just this place?”

“You didn’t answer my question.” Tate ate green beans. “Why didn’t you reach out to Kirby? Someone had to make the first move.”

She sliced into the plantain, eager to taste one. “This tastes like a potato.” She munched. “I thought it would taste like a banana.”

“You avoiding my question?”

“Kirby wasn’t the easiest person to talk to, and he held a grudge like nobody’s business. I didn’t know how to approach him. He said awful things the last time we spoke.”

“I don’t have siblings, but I have family back in Jersey. I speak to them all the time and I can’t imagine going ten years without communication. It must’ve been lonely not having your brother.”

“I have my girl Malissa.” She chewed the soft carrots. “She’s like a sister.”

“I bet there wasn’t a day that went by where you didn’t miss Kirby.”

“I take responsibility for not resolving things.” She sipped soda. “I almost died when I got that call about what happened. Who would want to murder Kirby and in such a vicious way?”

“He was a loan officer.” Tate chewed with his chin in the air. “So he had enemies because he always turned people down for loans and stuff like that.”

“I spoke to Inspector Wright before I got here but he was clueless and I doubt he’s doing a damn thing to solve this case.”

“He’s doing his best, but it takes time if there are no leads.”

“That’s why I’m here. I’m not waiting in Jacksonville, Florida, playing guessing games about who killed my brother. I’m not the type to sit back. When I want something to happen, I do it.”

He smiled, poking his veggies with his fork. “Another thing Kirby said about you.”

“I owe it to Kirby to do my best to find out the truth.” She chewed the moist, succulent chicken. “We wasted so much time apart.”

He moved his tongue around in his mouth. “I hear you.”

“I need your help with this.” She touched his large, soft hand. “Who should I talk to? I wanna know everyone who is involved with Kirby.”

“Guess you can start with Kirby’s girlfriend Sakina Henry. He was with her for about five years. She might know something.” He wrapped his fingers around her hand. “I’ll take you to meet her tonight after she gets off work.”

“Thanks.” She pulled her hand away. “I’m glad Kirby had a friend like you.”

“Yes, yes, ladies.” Tate stood aside as the group of elderly female tourists loaded his small bus. “We’re gonna have one heck of an adventure!”

The women giggled and snapped pictures as they tottered up the bus steps.

“Be careful there.” Tate helped the one who favored her hip. “We don’t want anyone getting hurt before we have fun do we?”

“No,” the tourists shouted.

“Are you ready?” Tate jumped on the bus. “Now, I’ll go over the guidelines you have in the brochure so—”

“Tate?” Jewel Ryder stood at the doorway of the bus.

“I don’t believe this.” He exhaled. “What do you want, Jewel?” He laid his backpack by the driver’s seat. “We’re getting ready to leave.”

“I need to talk to you,” she said with an Australian accent that used to make his dick hard but now just disgusted him. “It won’t wait.” She glared at him with those passionate, olive-green eyes.

“Ladies?” He turned to the tourists whose mouths were wide open as if they were watching porn. “I’ll be right back.”

“But we paid for a four o’clock tour,” said the frail, blue-haired woman with the crooked fingers. “That’s what we expect to get.”

“Ma’am.” He faked a smile. “This won’t take long and we’ll have a lovely adventure. Excuse me.” He hopped off the bus, grabbing Jewel’s skinny arm.

“Hey.” She twisted in his grip as he dragged her into his tiny office located in the temporary building. “What the fuck do you want?” He pushed her into his desk littered with papers and fast food wrappers. “These church ladies from Chicago paid for an evening tour and they’re not the kind to wait.”

“Neither am I.” She sashayed toward him, her small cleavage jutting from the sleeveless, plaid blouse. “Look how you look at my breasts, Tate. Even now you wanna suck them don’t you?”

“Get out of my face.” He passed her petite curves, inhaling her apricot perfume. “Everything you do is manipulation, Jewel.”

“What are you talking about?” Her long, stringy, blonde ponytail swung when she shook her head. “I’m not running a game on you.”

“I don’t give a shit what you’re doing or what you want. There’s nothing between us anymore and I told you that. I want you to leave me alone. How many times do I have to say it?”

“A hundred million fuckin’ times because I don’t believe it.”

“Oh, god.” He stood by the water dispenser, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “I’m living a nightmare.”

“How do you think I feel?” She touched her chest. “We were together three years, and you act like it was nothing. I wanted to spend my life with you.”

“You should’ve thought about that before you had an affair.”

“I was wrong.” Her narrow nostrils flared. “It was a mistake and I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it.”

“Fucking a guy one time is a mistake. Not an affair of six months.” He stormed toward the desk. “Besides, I’m over this and I’m over you.”

“I’m dying without you.” She approached the desk, tapping her long fingernails on top of it. “It’s like I don’t have a purpose anymore. Please.” She moved behind the desk.

He waltzed to the door. “Don’t come near me.”

“Why not?” Her bangs rose when she flexed her forehead. “Because you still want me?”

“We’re not doing this anymore.” He slapped his palms together. “Leave me the fuck alone or I’ll go to the police.”

She laughed. “For what?”

“For you harassing me. I’m not playing with you.”

“You need me now.” She held a close-lipped smile. “Especially after losing Kirby. You have no one else.”

“I’d rather be alone than to be around you again.”

“You don’t mean that.” She walked to him, clutching his T-shirt. “I love you, Tate. No man has ever made me feel the way you do.”

“You should’ve thought of that when you were riding another guy’s cock.” He pried her hands from his shirt. “I never want to see you again.”

“No.” She stood back, crossing her arms. “I won’t let you treat me like I never existed. You loved me as much as I loved you and I’m gonna remind your ass of it every chance I get.”

She stomped out the doorway, skirt swinging.

Chapter 3

“I wish I knew what to tell you.” Sakina Henry reclined on her suede, living room couch, her corn rolls resembling a maze across her head. “I’ve been wracking my brains trying to figure things out.”

Kayla and Tate sat in the wicker chairs on the other side of the coffee table with Kayla struggling to make out Sakina’s words. The twenty-nine-year-old’s accent was so thick it sounded as if she were speaking straight Pawta.

“It’s been a month, but each day is excruciating to not wake up with Kirby by my side.” Sakina’s white teeth glowed against her dark-chocolate skin.

“What’s so strange is that you were closer to him than I was,” Kayla said. “I hadn’t spoken to him in a decade so it’s like I have to learn who he was all over again.”

“He spoke about you.” Sakina stuck her sharp chin out, raising an unkempt eyebrow. “All the time. He missed you and wished things had gotten better between you.”

“It’s too late for that.” Kayla settled her purse in her lap. “But, I can make it right now by finding out who killed him.”

“What?” Sakina batted her almond-shaped eyes. “Is that why you’re here? To find out who killed Kirby?”

“Can you think of a better reason for me to be here?”

“What she talking about, Tate?” Sakina pointed her long finger at him. “What makes her think she can find out who it is when the police can’t?”

“I have to try.” Kayla touched her slacks. “Do you know anything at all that might help me?”

“I’d be shouting it from the rooftops, girl.” Sakina grimaced. “All I want is to find out who took my Kirby away. But it is impossible. The police have no leads or suspects.”

“Nothing’s impossible and even if it is I’ve gotta try.”

“Jamaica is dangerous.” Sakina wiggled her wide nose. “You can’t go around sniffing.”

“Kayla’s not the type to back away from anything.” Tate smirked. “I kinda like that about her.”

“There were a lot of things I loved about Kirby,” Sakina said. “But he didn’t know when to keep his mouth closed. He’d say anything and everything to anyone. Offend at will.”

Kayla nodded. “That was Kirby all right.”

“I used to tell him that his mouth would get him in trouble one day.” Sakina shook her head, huffing. “But I was just the little woman. He didn’t listen.”

“Did my brother offend the wrong person?”

“One time when we were having dinner out, these guys pulled him from the table. They looked like Rastas, but I can’t be sure.”

“Rastafarians?” Kayla asked.

“I’ve seen them around but don’t know them.” Sakina shrugged, holding her palms outward. “They just dragged him from the table and out the restaurant. He came back bothered but wouldn’t say why. Now I wonder if they had something to do with this.”

“Why would Rastafarians want my brother dead?” Kayla asked Tate. “Was he in the religion?”

“This is the first time I’ve heard of Kirby and any Rastafarians.” He rubbed the faint blond hairs on his chin. “Did you tell the police this?”

Sakina nodded. “I told Inspector Wright, and he said he’d look into it but without knowing who they were and how to find them, it’s hard.”

Kayla exhaled. “Is there anything else?”

“I wish there were.” Sakina hugged the lime green pillow. “Do you have a picture of your brother?”

“Not a recent one.”

Sakina went to the pictures on the wall and took the one of Kirby with a surfboard. “Take it.”

Kayla ogled the picture of Kirby smiling as if he owned the world. “He surfed?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tate said. “Loved it. I suck at it though.”

Kayla sighed. “I can’t take this.”

“He would want you to have it.” Sakina rubbed Kayla’s hand. “He loved you more than anything.”

Kayla sped toward the liquor cabinet as soon as she got to her hotel room. “I need a drink.”

“I enjoyed hanging with you today.” Tate peeked through the hall of brown and beige tones then closed the door. “You’re a breath of fresh air.”

“I’m a wreck.” Kayla poured red wine into a champagne glass and pushed the rim to her fat, valentine lips. “I don’t know if I can hold it together much longer.” She stood barefoot on the magenta rug. “Thank you again for taking me to see Sakina. She put a lot in perspective.”

“Did she?” Tate shook away the fantasy of having her lips wrapped around his rod, sucking the breath from his body.

“Yeah.” Kayla sat on the full-sized bed, twisting her finger into the end of her hair. “The Rastafarians might be the ones who killed him.”

“But, why would Rastafarians kill Kirby?” Tate stooped in front of her, admiring how her milk chocolate skin glowed in the overhead light. “He had nothing to do with religion.”

“Seems like every time someone is killed on a movie or something they have secrets.” She folded her legs Indian-style. “Isn’t it possible he could’ve been hiding something?”

“Not from me.” Tate turned his watch around his wrist. “We shared everything.”

“Everything?” Her long nose drooped.

“Okay not everything.” He bounced on his heels, still stooping. “But, he was my boy and if it were something serious, I can’t see him not telling me.”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have told you if he was into something bad or if he felt you’d be in danger if he told.”

He reveled in her minty perfume. “No.”

“I’m grasping at straws?” She touched the side of her angular face.

He sat beside her on the bed, butt sinking into the soft mattress.

“This Rastafarian thing might be something, right?”

“I guess so.”

She squinted, watching him from the corner of her eyes. “Are you afraid that you might not have known Kirby as well as you assumed?”

He fought reaching up and caressing her gorgeous face just to see if her skin felt as smooth as it looked.

“Maybe. Are you?”

She wiggled her toes. “Everyone I’ve met so far seems to know him a hell of a lot better than me. Oh.” She jiggled the smidge of wine in the glass. “Did you say you wanted a drink?”

“I’m not a wine guy.”

“They have Scotch and stuff.” She scooted to the edge of the bed, looking toward the liquor cabinet.

It gave Tate the chance to check out her pronounced ass again.

“You want something else?” She batted her eyes.

Your lips.

“No.” He cleared his throat. “I gotta be getting home.”

“One drink won’t hurt.”

“Ah, but one could lead to two and then three.” He tapped her shoulder. “Getting drunk won’t help anything.”

“It’ll numb the senses.” She lay on the bed, her size D bra cups pressing against her blouse.

Tate closed his eyes and exhaled. “Jesus.”

She moved her arm under her head. “You think Kirby had other lovers?”

He picked lint off his shirt.

“One thing I remember about my brother is that he was always the player. I can’t see that changing once he moved here.”

“He used to play around before he got with Sakina but they’ve been solid since.” He snapped his fingers. “Kirby loved her and seemed like he’d have married her.”

Kayla rose, frowning. “Are you sure? He used to cheat on everyone he was with.”

“He’d changed.” Tate rubbed his hands. “That’s what love does.”

“Are you speaking from experience?” She pressed the glass to her lips. “Did love change you?”

He scratched through his curls. “I did my dirt back in the day, but I fell in love and gave her every part of me.”

“You sound resentful.”

“I’d met a wonderful woman who I wanted to be with forever but it didn’t work out that way. She cheated on me and broke my heart.” He tapped his foot. “Sometimes I wonder if it was payback for how I treated women I were with back in the day.”

“I believe in Karma.” She held a sneaky smile. “We all make mistakes and if you changed that’s commendable.”

“God, I loved her.” Jewel’s lovely face popped into his mind. “I would’ve given her the world if she’d wanted it.”

“She sounds like a fool.”

“Yeah, well.” He stared at the Welcome to Jamaica sign. “That’s life. What about you? Any great romances in your past?”

“Hm.” She looked up, grinning. “I wouldn’t say great. The closest I’ve gotten was ‘good and getting to great’ but he had to fuck it up so—”

“He cheated on you?”

“Cheated and had a baby with the woman.”

“What?” He leaned back, grimacing. “And you had no idea?”

“Not until the woman showed up at our house with the baby.”

“Whoa so you lived with this dude?” He pointed downward. “I lived with my girl too. We were together three years.”

She whistled. “I was with my guy for two. I still can’t believe he thought he could juggle a woman on the side with a baby and not get caught.” She rolled her eyes. “Then when he did, he kept swearing he loved me and would do better. Yeah, right.”

“This guy…” He dug the toe of his sneaker into the carpet. “Was he black?”

She watched him as if she wondered why he’d asked. “No, he was Mexican.”

“So, what race of guys do you usually date?”

She stroked her thigh. “Um…”

He waved his hands. “If I’m being too personal than let me know.”

“I date people because we click and because they’re special. That has nothing to do with race.”

“I agree.” He did a quick nod. “That means you’ve dated white guys?”

She grinned. “Are you asking me if I’m into white guys, Tate?”

“No.” He fidgeted. “I mean…I was just wondering.”

“Yes, I’ve dated white guys. I meet most of my men in the bar scene since that’s where I spend all my time. That I meet them in bars might explain why I keep getting my heart broken. Not sure you can find the love of your life in a bar.”

“I met my ex in a bar.” He frowned. “Oh, bad example.”

She laughed.

“You’re different.” He nudged her. “You throw me off.”

She flicked her hair. “How?”

“Well, we’ll be going along talking and you’ll just say something that surprises me, and I like that.”

“And, you’re funny.” Hints of red sprouted within her brown cheeks. “I’ve laughed the most today than I have since Kirby died. Thank you for that.”

“Laughter is the best medicine.”

“How was your tour?”

“I spent the evening with a bunch of horny, grouchy old church ladies from Chicago.”

She guffawed.

“It was interesting.”

“A tour sounds fun. I don’t get out much. The last trip I’ve been too was Disney World. This is my first time out of Florida.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No.” She held up her finger. “I don’t travel.”

“That’s a shame. I’ve traveled all over.” He swiped his hand through the air. “I’ve been to Asia, Africa, all over Europe.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, I left my boring ass office job in Jersey and never looked back. Just got my shit and hopped on a plane and that was it. I wanted to go everywhere I could. Like with women back then, I couldn’t be faithful to just one place because they were all so magnificent.”

She smiled.

“Traveling is living and seeing life. You meet other cultures, you try new things, you pick up knowledge you can’t get out a book or off the Internet. It changes you to the core. I speak nine different languages.” He said a few sentences in Portuguese, Russian, and Swahili. “You have to travel.” He patted her knee.

“What made you be faithful to Jamaica?”

“Oh, that’s my queen there.” He smirked. “She got my heart. The minute I got here, I knew Jamaica was my home. Kirby said the same thing.”

“Bartending is like that for me. It’s more than serving drinks but it’s putting a smile on someone’s face and listening to their problems while entertaining them. At that moment when that person sits at my bar I’m in control. I’m the most important person in the room.”

“Is that what you long for? To be in control?”

A strand of hair caught between her lips. “Don’t we all?”

He brushed her hair from her face.

She looked at him and it brought the pleasure he used to get when he first met Jewel times one thousand.

“Whatever you need…” He stared at her puckered lips. “I’ll do it.”

“Thanks.” Her breath caught in her throat.

“Have any idea how long you’ll be in Kingston?”

“I’m not going back until I find out something or at least until I’m confident that cop will get off his ass and do his job.”

“It broke my heart to hear you’ve never been out of Florida.” He slapped his thighs as he stood. “You’re here in one of the most seductive islands in the world and you’re gonna make the most of it.”

“Am I?

“I won’t take no for an answer. You can’t spend every moment on Kirby’s murder. It’s not healthy.”

“That’s what I came here for, Tate.”

“That’s what you thought you came here for.” He chewed his lip. “You didn’t expect to meet me.”

“No.” She parted her lips. “I didn’t.”

“Glad you did?” He chuckled. “I can’t let you be here and not see the sights. How about you come on my tour tomorrow? It’s a group of ten, well eleven if you come. Kirby would want you to have fun.”

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“You’ll be with me, woman.” He threw up his arms. “Aren’t you having fun now? Don’t I take your mind off things?”

She locked her stare on him. “You do.”

He lowered his arms. “Can I kiss you?”

Fuck.

He slammed his eyes shut then opened them, surprised at her calm expression. “What’s wrong with me?”

“It’s okay.”

“I hope you don’t think I’m a jerk, but I’m attracted to you.” He moved his hand back and forth between them. “I’m sure you feel it.”

“I have to stay on course, Tate.” She stood, leaning to the side. “Kirby’s what’s important.”

He pushed his face into his palms. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It was sweet.” She touched his shoulder, pressing the tips of her fingers into his skin. “You’ve done nothing wrong, but I’m not looking for anything other than answers. I hope that doesn’t change anything.”

“Oh, no.” He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of his pants. “Still doesn’t stop me from feeling like a moron.”

“Does the offer still stand to go on the tour tomorrow?”

“Definitely.” He tilted his head back. “We’ll leave at ten. I’ll come get you.” He went to the door. “Good night.”

“Where are we going, anyway?”

He turned from the door, winking. “On your first adventure.”

Chapter 4

Tate’s phone rang as he got off the hotel elevator. He checked the ID and Jewel’s name appeared on the screen. “You gotta be kidding me.” He stuffed the phone back into his pocket and exited the hotel. By the time he spotted his black jeep in the lot, his phone rang again so he answered, “Stop calling me!”

“I wanna see you.”

“You got to stop this shit, Jewel.” He climbed into the jeep. “I’m serious. You need help.”

“I might know something about Kirby’s murder.”

Tate twisted the key into the ignition. “You’re lying.”

“How can you say I’m lying?” Her accent clung to the end of her words.

Tate put the phone on speaker and backed out the parking space. “You’d do anything and everything to get back into my bed. It ain’t happening.” He sped out the lot and turned onto the street. “If you know something go to the police.”

“Why are you being this way?”

“Because you’re a lying bitch.” He hit the steering wheel. “I’m sick of your shit, and I want you out my life.”

“That woman you’ve been with all day…” She exhaled. “Is that Kirby’s sister?”

“What?” He glanced at the phone. “None of your damn business. Stop following me.”

“You sure moved on fast for someone so hurt.”

“Hey, you have no fuckin’ right to lecture me after what you did.” He made a swift right through a street full of food trucks and stands. “I’m helping her find out what happened to him. That’s all.”

“I watched you.” She sucked her teeth. “Saw how you were looking at her. It’s the same way you used to look at me.”

“What the fuck you been doing, hiding behind shrubs and shit?” He grabbed the phone. “I’m giving no more warnings, Jewel. If you come near me or call me again, I’m getting a restraining order. Fuck off.”

“Tate…”

He hung up and threw the phone in the passenger’s seat. “Crazy bitch.”

The Next Day

Tate showed the tour group the 80-seat theater of the Bob Marley Museum on the property of the late musician’s home.

Kayla and the tourists walked around, mesmerized by the enchanting space.

Afterwards, they checked out the huge photo gallery, and Tate and Kayla separated from the group and stopped inside the gift shop.

“My goodness.” Kayla stood amongst racks and shelves full of Bob Marley memorabilia.

“Welcome.” A dark-skinned man in a Bob Marley T-shirt stood behind the counter flashing a bright smile. “How are you today?”

“This place is incredible,” Kayla gushed. “I read about it on the Internet but it didn’t do it justice.”

“It’s Bob Marley’s legacy in one place,” the Jamaican boasted. “Got T-shirts, hats, CD’s, mugs, anything you want.”

The other tourists mingled into the shop as Kayla looked through a calendar with pics of Marley live on stage.

“Can you imagine being this loved by so many people?” she asked.

“Hm.” Tate stood beside her.

“What a wonderful person he must’ve been,” Kayla said. “There’s a difference between a singer and a legend and Bob is a legend.”

“There’ll never be another like him.” Tate tried on a cap with Marley’s picture on the front.

“Thank you.” She tingled when she caught the glint in his eyes. “It’s been a lot of fun, and I’m glad I came.”

“Beats siting in a hotel room pondering what happened to Kirby, right?” He took the cap off and fluffed out his flattened curls. “He wouldn’t want you to be depressed.”

They passed tourists from another group and checked out CD’s.

“You ever going to tell me why you and Kirby fell out?” Tate leaned against the shelf with his arms crossed. “He never wanted to talk about it either.”

“Did Kirby ever tell you about his past?” She hooked her fingers together. “About right before he came to Jamaica?”

“You mean him going to prison for four years for check fraud? Yeah.”

“I turned him in.”

He shook his head, batting his eyes. “Excuse me?”

She waited for two women with arms full of items to pass before continuing, “I turned him into the police.”

“Whoa.”

“So, now you see why he hated me.” She clasped her hands behind her back. “I ratted my brother out and he got prison time for it.”

“I can see why he’d be mad, but it wasn’t your fault. He did the crime and he couldn’t expect you to hide that.”

She shrugged. “He confided in me, and I betrayed his trust and went right to the police.”

“Kirby was a grown man who made his own decisions.” He moved aside for people to walk by. “What he did was wrong and he had to pay for that. He told me that prison changed him for the better so he had you to thank for that.”

She wiggled her toes in her sandals. “He didn’t see it that way.”

“Well, you did what any law abiding citizen would do.”

“I could’ve turned the other cheek.”

“Not you.” He tapped her nose. “You’re an honest person with morals and values. You wouldn’t have lived with yourself if you had said nothing. I don’t blame you. I’d have done the same thing.”

She exhaled, the guilt she’d felt for years escaping her body. “You would?”

“I believe people should pay for their mistakes. When you do something wrong, you need to own up to it. It’s the only way we become better people. You can’t live your life according to someone else’s rulebook, Kayla.”

“I appreciate that but it’s easier said than done.”

Her cell rang.

“Excuse me.” She dug it from her purse and answered, “Hello?”

“Miss Kayla Atkins?” a laid back, Jamaican accent cruised through the line. “It’s Inspector Gerain Wright.”

“Oh, Inspector Wright.” She looked at Tate. “Do you have any news?”

“Can you come down to the station?”

“Sure.” She checked her watch. “I’m on a tour with Mr. O’Keefe, but I can get a taxi.”

“That will be fine. See you soon.”

She hung up the phone. “I got to get a taxi.” She activated the taxi locator app on her phone. “Inspector Wright needs to see me right away.”

“Hold on, I’ll go with you.”

“What about the tour?”

“I’ll wrap it up and we can go to the station together.”

“You sure? I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

He gripped her shoulders as he walked around her. “If Wright has information about the murder I wanna be the first to know about it.”

Chapter 5

Inspector Wright shook Kayla and Tate’s hands when they entered the stuffy office, which smelled of dust and old papers.

“How are you?” Wright’s voice held a rhythmic flow due to his sharp accent. “Please sit down.” He sat behind the lopsided desk beside a stack of phone books piled on the floor.

Tate held Kayla’s chair as she sat. “Thank you,” she told him then focused on Wright.

Wright resembled an imperial statue in his uniform, a khaki jacket and shirt with epaulets on the shoulders. “How are you finding Jamaica so far?” He straightened the black peaked cap, giving Kayla a peek at his trimmed flat top.

“It’s beautiful.” Kayla crossed her legs in the green and white striped maxi dress. “Wish I were here under better circumstances though.”

“I’m surprised to see you here, Mr. O’Keefe.” Wright’s hazel eyes fought for attention against his coal-black skin.

“I’m helping Kayla. We both wanna find out who killed Kirby.”

“This news…” Wright steadied his gaze on Kayla. “You might find it uncomfortable to take, Miss Atkins.”

“I don’t care what it is as long as it gets us to the killer.”

“We’re done looking at your brother’s computer.” Wright rubbed his mouth, his gold wedding band sparkling. “Kirby frequented a dating sight and had been chatting with people and hooking up.”

“I told you.” Kayla clutched Tate’s wrist. “He wasn’t faithful to Sakina.”

“This can’t be true.” Tate touched the desk. “If Kirby was meeting people off the Internet, he would’ve told me.”

“You keep thinking he told you everything.” Kayla huffed. “No one tells anybody everything. It wasn’t in Kirby’s blood to be faithful. He was just like our father. So, who are these women? Do you think one of them killed him?”

Wright leaned back in the leather chair, tapping his pencil. “He wasn’t meeting women.”

Tate’s mouth fell open. “What?”

“Kirby was chatting with men.” Wright twirled the pencil between his fingers. “He was on a gay website talking to gay men.”

“Wait, a minute.” A chuckle caught in Kayla’s throat. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Tate gaped. “Are you saying Kirby was gay?”

“No damn way,” Kayla said. “My brother wasn’t gay. You gotta be mistaken.”

“I can’t speak to his sexual orientation,” Wright said. “But, he was meeting men, and it wasn’t to play chess. We read many messages between him and several guys and they were explicit.”

“I was closer to Kirby than anyone.” Tate gripped the arms of the chair. “There’s no way he could’ve been gay and hid it from me.”

“According to the computer he met with a least four men to have sex.”

“God.” Kayla covered her mouth. “It’s like he was a damn stranger, Tate.”

He rubbed his forehead, lip dragging on the floor.

“I didn’t know him at all.” Kayla’s heart dropped to her gut. “Not at all.”

“I’m sorry to relay this news but the investigation is what’s important.” Wright rocked. “It’s a possibility that a man he met online killed him. He might’ve started a relationship, and it turned bad. No one is stabbed fourteen times by just anyone. It has to be someone emotionally involved with your brother. Someone who snapped.”

“Can you give me names of these men?” Kayla asked.

“It’s police business and you need to let us handle it.”

“I’m not going away.” She raised her head. “I came here for answers and I’ll get them.”

“We don’t have real names yet. They used user names, so it’ll take us time to find identities.”

“Were the men local?” Tate asked.

“They all seem to be from the area, yes.” Wright reached across the desk toward Kayla. “I promise you we’ll do all we can to get this person. We don’t want this to happen to anyone else.”

Kayla became woozy when she stood.

“Whoa.” Tate put his arms around her and the feeling subsided.

Wright stood, holding onto his chair. “Are you all right, Miss Atkins?”

Tears filled her eyes. “I won’t be all right until you get the bastard who killed my brother.”

“Malissa?” Kayla tore through the hotel lobby and grabbed the five-foot-seven Malissa DaSilva into a bear hug. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, girl.” The copper-blonde beauty reciprocated the affection. “Did I surprise you?”

“Did you?” Kayla squealed, tugging on Malissa’s hands. “You shocked the hell out of me.”

Tate sauntered into the lounge, smiling. “Hello.”

“Mm.” Malissa tightened her lips, watching Tate as if he’d popped out of a cake naked. “Well, hello.” She held her hand out to him, putting on airs. “I’m Malissa DaSilva.”

“I’m Tate O’Keefe.” He kissed her hand and winked.

“My, my.” She scanned his fine frame. “And, who is this, Kayla?”

“This is Kirby’s best friend.” She pulled up the strap of her maxi dress. “He’s been helping me try to find out what happened.”

“It’s so nice to meet you, Tate.” Malissa held her skinny hip. “Leave it to Kayla to find a man anywhere she goes. Men love her.”

Tate smirked at Kayla.

“Stop.” Kayla nudged Malissa. “What are you doing here?”

“I felt horrible for not coming with you. I couldn’t let my bestie struggle in the horrid trap of Jamaica and me not be here for support.”

Tate scoffed. “Horrid trap?”

“She’s being funny.” Kayla smiled. “What she means is she couldn’t wait to get down here and partake in all this tropical seduction.”

“It’s not just that.” Malissa put her arm around Kayla’s shoulders. “My conscience was killing me, and I want to help you find out what happened to Kirby.” She let Kayla go, holding out her arms. “So, I got an extended vacation from work and here I am.”

“Girl.” Kayla hugged her, beaming. “I’m so glad to see you. It means the world you came.”

“I love this hotel.” Malissa glanced around the elegant room of deep brown hues, bobbing her head. “At least you’re traveling in style.” Her focus made its way back to Tate. “Here I was thinking you were alone when you have this hunk at your disposal.”

Tate lowered his head, blushing. “I’m gonna take off, Kayla.”

“Okay.” She smiled, wiggling.

“It was nice to meet you again, Malissa. Kayla, call me if you need to.”

“I will.”

Tate left the lounge with both women’s stares glued to his tight, muscular ass.

“Ooh, wee.” Malissa leaned back, fanning her face. “It’s just like he stepped out of a romance novel or something.”

Kayla laughed.

“He is fine.” The freckles danced on Malissa’s pink cheeks. “You two getting it on?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Kayla sat in the suede armchair and put her legs on the rest. “I just met the man yesterday.”

“You two seem chummy for just meeting yesterday.” Malissa sat in the chair beside Kayla, her luggage by her feet. “There were sparks all over this lounge.”

“Girl, please.” Kayla laid her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m not here for a man.”

“That man likes you, Kay. You see how he was blushing?”

“He was blushing because you embarrassed the hell out of him.”

“Did I?” Malissa poked her lips out, wobbling her head.

“Get any idea out your head about trying to hook me up with Tate. I’m here for one thing.”

“It’s Jamaica though. Doesn’t mean you can’t have fun while you’re here.”

“Malissa.” Kayla ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m serious. I’m scared.”

“Of what?” Malissa sipped from her yellow cocktail. “It’s pineapple. You want me to order you one?”

“I found out my brother might’ve been gay and meeting local men online.”

The straw slid from Malissa’s mouth. “Wow.”

“I can’t believe this. Kirby gay? This entire thing is a mess. Do I even want to find out what happened? What if I stumble onto some secret I can’t accept?” Kayla rubbed her forehead. “If it weren’t for Tate, I’d had a breakdown.”

“You got me now too and I’m going to do my best to help. I want you to get the answers you need.”

“Thanks so much.” Kayla hugged her, sniffing the lemon scent of Malissa’s shampoo. “You’ve always been there when I needed you.”

“And, I always will be.” Malissa stroked Kayla’s hair. “Does the police think a man from the Internet killed Kirby?”

“It’s possible. They have to find out who the men are and who he met, etcetera.”

“You should take a break from this for at least a day because I’m worried you’re getting too stressed out.”

“This is what I came here for.”

“Yeah, but you’re on information overload and you need time to process things so you can think straight. You won’t do any good if you get burned out. Kayla, we’re in Jamaica!” she howled.

People in the lounge gawked at them.

“One of the most beautiful islands in the world.” Malissa bounced in the chair. “You’ve never been out of Florida and this might be your last chance to come here. You owe it to yourself to let your hair down.”

“I’d feel guilty. How can I celebrate when I’m supposed to find out who killed Kirby?”

“You’re doing more than most people would for a brother who wasn’t talking to her.” Malissa rolled her eyes. “It’s ridiculous Kirby held a grudge for so long. Family is more important than anything. There’s a festival downtown tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, Tate mentioned it but I told him I wasn’t sure if I’d go.”

“Oh, you’re going now.” Malissa danced in her seat. “There will be dancing, drinking, music, and men. The perfect chance for you to unwind and clear your thoughts. You can focus on Kirby the day after.”

“Leave it to you.” Kayla shook her head, grinning. “You haven’t been here a day yet and already found a party.”

Malissa stood, wiggling her hips.

“Tate said the festival will be huge.” Kayla lifted her chin. “Nine times out of ten someone who knows what happened will be there.” She stood, fixing her dress. “Good idea, Malissa.”

She sighed. “You’re supposed to go for fun, Kay.”

Kayla got her purse off the chair. “You go for your reasons and I’ll go for mine.”

Chapter 6

“Woo, wee!” Malissa pulled Kayla through the crowded downtown street the next night.

Kayla couldn’t see two feet in front of her and everywhere she stepped, she bumped into someone. People of various ages and nationalities danced to up-tempo reggae courtesy of a live band.

Malissa swung in circles, dragging Kayla passed adults with liquor and kids with sodas and lollipops.

“What are all these kids doing out here?” Kayla asked. “It’s almost midnight.”

“This is Jamaica, girl.” Malissa pulled Kayla in line at a rusty food truck. “They party all night long no matter the age.” She ordered two Jamaican patties and handed one to Kayla. “These things are to die for.”

“This is the hundredth one you’ve had today.” Kayla bit into the savory pastry, her palate greeted with spicy pork and Jamaican seasonings.

“Enjoying yourself?” Malissa chomped. “Finally getting a real taste of Jamaica.”

Kayla wiped crumbs from her mouth. “It’s overwhelming.”

Gorgeous, curvaceous black women strutted in skimpy bikinis that left nothing to the imagination.

“Look at her.” Kayla pointed to a woman with a giant headdress on who gyrated her hips at one hundred miles per hour; the sparkles on her outfit caught the streetlights. “How does she move like that?”

“How did she get into that bikini?” Malissa gaped. “I could be naked and I’d have on more clothes than some of these women.”

A group of American tourists flirted with Malissa and Kayla on their way to the food stands.

“The whole city’s probably here,” Kayla said. “Someone has to know about Kirby’s murder.”

Men ran through the crowd, waving green and yellow streamers.

“Knowing about it and telling you are two different things.” Malissa finished her patty. “Few people wanna get involved in a murder investigation.”

“I have to try.”

They inched their way across the street and to the seating space under the lit tents.

“Hey, ladies.” Tate strolled their way in thin white slacks, sneakers with no socks and a white and red island shirt.

Kayla smiled, glad she’d chosen her strapless white dress.

“Kayla.” Tate’s eyebrows reached his forehead. “That dress.”

“Thank you.”

He smiled, rubbing his hands. “You have a great eye for what you look good in.”

Malissa chuckled under her breath.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” Tate sat on the bench beside Kayla.

“Malissa changed my mind.”

“She needs to have fun.” Malissa propped her elbows on the table.

“Glad you came out.” Tate smiled. “You can’t tell me Jamaica isn’t wooing you.”

“I love it here.” A warm breeze swept across her face. “I can see why you fell in love with it.”

The band began another fast song as people twisted to the African drum beat.

“Ooh.” Tate wiggled, snapping his fingers. “Feel that beat, Kayla?”

Malissa snickered.

“You like to dance?” Tate swiveled, surprising Kayla by how he moved. “What you looking at me like that for? Thought I couldn’t dance to these beats?”

“No.” Kayla giggled. “It’s not that.”

“You’ve been misjudging me since we met.” He stood, grabbing her hand. “Don’t let the ‘white guy from Jersey’ fool you. I’m just as Jamaican as the natives are now. It’s in my blood. Let’s dance.”

Kayla took her hand from his. “I—”

“Go on.” Malissa picked her teeth. “Kay’s a great dancer.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” Tate helped her off the bench and led her to the crowd.

“I don’t know about this.” Kayla tensed up. “I’m getting shy suddenly.”

“Let that go.” Tate grabbed her hands, swinging his small hips from left to right.

Kayla mimicked the action, adding a twirl to it.

“There you go.” Tate did a slick step-and-slide and then turned in a circle.

“You got moves, huh?” Kayla laughed. “Where did you learn to dance like this?”

“It’s natural.” He rotated his body as if he were a snake. “When I was a kid, I just started dancing. No one had to teach me.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.”

“Why would I be offended?” He pulled her close, did a fancy step and let her go. “Because you assumed this white boy couldn’t get down to island music?”

“It’s not that.”

He kissed the tip of her nose, grinning. “Yes, it is.”

“I apologize.”

He held her to him, the muscles in his stomach pressing against her skin.

She floated within the warmth of his eyes, her body pulsating as he stroked her ass.

He watched her as if cautious she might reject his advances. “I love how you dance.” His chest heaved against hers, teasing her nipples. “You don’t know how hard it is for me to contain myself seeing you in that dress.”

“Are you containing yourself?” Her nipples throbbed, begging for his tongue. “I’m not so sure.”

“I’m fighting to behave.” His eyes turned to half-slits. “If we weren’t in a crowd of people, you’d be afraid of what I want to do to you.” He gripped her waist and shimmied, her pelvis burning for his dick. “I don’t mean to be forward.” He swung her around, holding her back to his chest. “But, I like you, Kayla. I felt something the minute we met.”

“Fear because I almost killed you?”

He snickered, licking her earlobe. “Because I wanted you. I’ve wanted you ever since Kirby showed me your picture.”

A tingle started at her neck and worked its way through her belly button, her loins exploding the more he touched her.

“I had to have you.” He bit her ear. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

“How can I believe that?” She pushed her ass against his middle and his dick hardened at the slightest touch.

“You feel that?” A bead of sweat dripped from his face onto her shoulder.

“Yes.” She balled a fist to keep from ripping off her dress.

“Then don’t ask me again if I mean it when I say I’m attracted to you.” He turned her to where she faced him and kissed her.

The world went black with only the beat of the music to remind Kayla she were still on earth. She moaned as he maneuvered his salty tongue into her mouth, his breath smelling of tropical fruit and jerk seasoning.

“Mm.” She pulled away, but he kept her in place, and soon his tongue took a backseat to hers.

He whimpered, smacking in between breaths. “You’re a good kisser.”

She snickered with her lips against his. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“What else are you good at?” He took her mouth again, bumping her forehead. “Huh?”

“I’m good at a lot of things.”

“Woo!” A woman danced by, pointing at the couple.

“You are, huh?” Tate kept that dazed expression. “I’d love to know what else you’re good at.”

Kayla stroked his cheek. “I kinda want to show you.”

He slipped his finger under her chin and lifted her head. “Kinda?” His ripe mouth stole her lips again; her stomach flipping as if someone tossed her from a plane.

She released his puckered lips. “We can’t, Tate. I feel so guilty.”

He took her hands in his sweaty palms. “You don’t owe Kirby anything.”

“You don’t know how much this hurts.” She snatched her hands away. “How many years I’ve lost. My brother is dead and all you can think about is getting into my pants?”

“Wait, a minute.” He frowned, lifting his finger. “Don’t make this a one-sided thing. You’re attracted too.”

“I can’t lose sight of why I’m here by getting involved with you.” The muscles in her face constricted. “I won’t.”

“Maybe what’s happening between us doesn’t make sense.” He exhaled, eyes shifting left and right. “But do you care when I’m this close to you?”

“I can’t do this, Tate.”

He snatched her waist. “Kayla?”

“I can’t.”

She turned and ran through the crowd, fumbling and bumping into people.

Chapter 7

Kayla ended up at a food truck that sold Escoviche, (fish marinated in vinegar) and other spices. She got in line, not sure the reason since the last thing on her mind was food. Just as she got to the window, someone tapped her shoulder.

A tall, slender woman with curves and long, stringy blonde hair spread her thin lips into a smile. “Hello,” she said with an in-your-face Australian accent. “You’re Kayla Atkins, right?”

“Yes.” Kayla stood aside, allowing the man behind her to go to the window. “May I help you?”

“I’m Jewel Ryder.” She held her hand out, green eyes flickering. “I knew your brother.”

“Oh.” Kayla shook Jewel’s hand.

“I’d heard you were in town.” She pulled at her cutoff shorts. “I couldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t give my condolences. It’s a shame what happened. Kirby was a great guy.”

“How did you know Kirby?”

Jewel stuck her neck out, squinting. “I hung with friends of your brother’s.”

“Can you give me their names? I’d like to speak to them.”

“About the murder?” Jewel poked out her lips. “I’m sure they don’t know anything or they’d be talking to the police.”

Kayla touched Jewel’s arm. “Did you hear something about my brother being with guys?”

“No.” Jewel batted her eyes. “Why would you ask that?”

Before Kayla resumed the conversation, a big-boned, brown-skinned woman with cornrows and knock-knees, trotted toward her and Jewel. “Are you Kayla Atkins?” she asked in a fluid Jamaican accent, gesturing to Kayla with her drink.

Kayla looked back and forth at the women. “I must be the most famous tourist in town.”

“Can I speak to you for a moment?” the woman asked.

“I have to go, anyway.” Jewel patted Kayla’s arm. “It was nice meeting you.”

“Wait,” Kayla urged.

“If I find out anything about Kirby, I’ll go to the police.” Jewel waved back as she disappeared in the crowd.

“I have something to tell you,” the other woman said.

“Like what?” Kayla’s pitch increased. “What in the world is going on?”

“I’m Mia.” Mia beckoned Kayla to bend over, and she whispered in her ear, “I might know something about Kirby’s murder. I can’t tell you with people around.” She glanced at the boogying crowd. “Please meet me tomorrow morning at ten at the Eastborn Motel room fifteen.”

“Eastborn?” Kayla whispered. “Do you know who killed my brother?”

“Meet me tomorrow and don’t tell anyone.”

Kayla swallowed. “This has something to do with the Rastafarians doesn’t it?”

Mia’s brows furrowed. “See you tomorrow unless you don’t want the tip.”

“Here you are, Ma’am.” The driver parked the musty cab in front of Tate’s one-story, brick house later that night.

“Thank you.” Kayla pulled ten dollars from her purse and handed it to the smoking Jamaican whose dreads hid his face.

“Nice doing business with you, pretty lady.”

She got out the cab.

The red, white and yellow beanie cap rocked on the driver’s head. “You want me to wait until he answers the door?”

“No.” Kayla’s stomach swirled from apprehension as she stepped onto the cracked sidewalk. “I’m fine.”

He propped his wrist on the steering wheel. “Have a nice night now.”

“You too.” She flashed a nervous smile and scampered to Tate’s front door as the cab left. “What am I doing here?” She took her place beside the bushy plant at Tate’s door and no matter how many times she asked herself why she’d come, she found no answer.

At least not an answer that made sense.

She lifted her hand to ring the doorbell when the slow, sensual sound of a saxophone flowed from the back of the house.

She entered the black, metal gate, her sandals clacking on the sidewalk as she made it to Tate’s backyard patio.

There, in the rich Caribbean moonlight, he sat on the arm of the deep-gray armchair, French-kissing the mouthpiece of the sax as a sultry, deep melody caressed Kayla’s ears and wrapped its arms around her body.

The way his head moved as he strangled the instrument reminded Kayla of how he’d hold her hips, and would his lips do her body the same justice?

She cleared her throat but either he didn’t hear her or ignored her because he kept his mouth on that saxophone as if it were a woman’s breast.

Kayla sucked her lip as she swept her hand underneath the flimsy fabric of her dress and rubbed her clit through her white, linen panties.

Tate squeezed the saxophone; his movements aggressive yet steady as the instrument let out a high-pitch squeal resembling the shriek of a woman at the peak of orgasm.

Kayla slipped her fingers inside her panties, tickling the folds of her moist labia. “Oh.”

The saxophone stopped and Kayla opened her eyes to find Tate staring at her with a look of seduction and surprise.

She froze with her fingers in her pussy, still sneaking strokes despite the awkward moment.

Tate set the saxophone beside the blue and white ceramic vase and stood, allowing her to bask in how his outfit showed off his masterful frame.

When they danced at the festival, she couldn’t keep her mind off how his muscles clenched beneath her fingertips and how her pussy sang when he fondled her ass.

He rushed toward her, grabbing her hand without a word.

Oh god.

He pulled her to the black, wicker table, shoved chairs aside and set her on top of it. His gaze still on Kayla, he maneuvered his hands underneath her dress.

She lifted off the table, making it easier for him to remove her panties.

Tate examined the wrinkled underwear then pushed it to his nose and moaned as his crotch extended.

He knelt in front of her, widened her legs, and kissing her inner thighs.

Damn, she needed to say something.

Fuck it.

“Mm.” She arched her back, rubbing her breast, ready to hump any and everything on his body.

He stopped kissing her leg and lifted it, staring as if asking silent permission.

She didn’t smile, shrug, or bat an eye. Since he’d taken control, she’d follow him on this journey.

Tate stuck his index finger in her face, and she locked her lips over it and sucked.

He then curled his arm around her trembling waist, pushed his body between her thighs and rubbed his pelvis against hers.

“Ooh.” She pressed against him, his muscles smashing her breasts.

He moaned while sucking her neck, smelling of the fireworks from the festival.

He slipped his tongue into her mouth, turning her head left and right at his disposal.

Her tongue trembled as he abandoned the kiss, held her close and stuck his finger under her dress.

O…M…G.

She’d never been finger fucked by a man ever.

He tickled the thin, wet skin of her snatch, sending electric jolts through her body.

Kayla clutched his wrist, maneuvered her ass, and shoved his finger into her pussy. “Ah.” She held his hand in place, rocking as his raw finger stroked her constricted walls. “Yes. My god, it’s incredible.” The more he poked, the wetter she got. “God, don’t stop.” She bounced, throat dry and toes curling. “Faster.”

He increased his speed, moving his finger in and out as Kayla’s legs grew numb from the knees.

“Please don’t stop.” She widened her legs. “Fuck me, Tate.” Her tits jumped, the bra struggling to hold them in place. “Oh!” Her toes shot out her sandals as the fiery orgasm echoed throughout her body.

“Mm.” Tate gave her pussy one last finger thrust before taking her pulsating mouth in his.

Chapter 8

“Hey,” Malissa grumbled the next morning as she joined Kayla for breakfast at the hotel pool in denim cutoff shorts. “Ooh.” She plopped into the plastic chair, shades covering her eyes. “I feel like shit on top of shit on top of shit.”

“That’s what you get when you drink enough liquor to get the United States Army drunk.” Kayla bit into a chilled orange slice. “I had to carry you to your room last night.”

“Ugh.” Malissa raised her head, a green hue bursting from her pale cheeks.

Kayla lifted her plate of fruit and toast. “You gonna throw up?”

“You kidding?” Malissa propped her bare feet up in her chair. “I have nothing left to throw up.” She rubbed her eye. “Why did you let me drink that much?”

“I let you drink?” Kayla sipped mocha cappuccino. “You’re a bartender. You of all people should be responsible.”

Malissa flinched as people played in the pool. “Do they have to be so loud?”

Kayla’s cell rang.

She didn’t have to check the screen to see who it was.

It rang again, and she rejected the call.

“Who was that?” Malissa took her shades off, eyes beady and red.

“No one.” Kayla spread strawberry jam on her toast.

“Your face doesn’t look like it’s no one. You avoiding someone?”

“Nope. Mind your business.”

“Something’s up.” Malissa waved her finger. “You left last night, didn’t you? After you took me to my room.”

“Who said I left?” Kayla spoke between chews.

“Where did you go?”

Kayla wiped toast crumbs from her mouth. “It was a mistake.”

“What was a mistake?”

Her phone rang again, and she rejected the call.

“Is that Tate?” Malissa slapped the table. “Holy shit. You slept with him didn’t you?”

“No.”

“But that’s who’s calling, right?” Malissa pointed to the phone. “Did you go to his place last night?”

Kayla straightened the napkin in her lap.

“Kay.” Malissa hit the table harder. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have taken my black ass over there.”

“Oh my god.” Malissa covered her mouth, giggling. “You fucked him?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does that even mean? Either you did, or you didn’t.”

Kayla rolled her eyes. “There are other things.”

“He ate you out?” Malissa laughed and then gaped. “Wait, you blew him then?”

“Hell no.” Kayla crossed her arms, sighing.

“Okay if you didn’t fuck, and you didn’t eat each other than what the hell did you do?”

“He finger-fucked me.”

“Whoa, ho, ho!” Malissa scooted lower in the chair and threw her legs up, gaining everyone’s attention. “He finger-fucked you?”

“Sh.” Kayla hit her arm. “Tell the entire world why you don’t?” She avoided curious stares.

“I can’t believe it. You’re always so put together and predictable.”

She scoffed. “You saying I’m boring?”

“Not but you’re not wild.” Malissa folded her arms on the table, smiling as if she’d won the lottery. “I can’t believe you let a guy you just met finger-fuck you. Have we slipped into another dimension?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Kayla folded the napkin. “How could I be so irresponsible?”

“You deserve to have fun. Nothing wrong with you and Tate getting it on.” Malissa stole a piece of toast and bit into it. “You believe in fate? Maybe your real reason for coming here is to meet Tate.”

“He said something like that but it sounded like bullshit.”

“When Kirby was alive you let the fallout hold you back. Now he’s dead and you’re guilty because of it. I wonder if you use Kirby as an excuse so you don’t have to deal with your own life.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Kayla scratched her toe.

Malissa chewed, wincing. “Did you like being with Tate last night?”

“It was great.” She got goose bumps again. “It was so romantic. A romance you can’t plan for.”

“I guess so with the way your eyes are glazing over.” Malissa waved her hand in front of Kayla’s face. “Earth to Kayla.”

“He was in the backyard playing the saxophone under the moonlight, Malissa. Can you fuckin’ believe that?”

“He plays the damn saxophone?” She scrunched her face. “I hate you.”

“I’d never been finger-fucked before.”

“Welcome to the club.” Malissa threw up her arms. “I live here.”

Kayla laughed. “You’re so silly.”

“A saxophone?” Malissa pinched Kayla’s arm. “There are no words invented for the amount of jealousy I’m feeling right now. Tate might be just the medicine you need. Think about it.”

“But, I don’t know him.”

“Excuse me?” Malissa sipped out of Kayla’s cappuccino. “I’m betting you know him better than many people now. Are you avoiding him because you’re embarrassed or scared?”

“I need to keep my mind on Kirby’s murder. I don’t need this distraction.”

“Might not need it…” Malissa popped green grapes into her mouth. “But, you got it anyway, sister.”

“Can we put the Tate stuff aside? There’s something important I need to say.”

“What?”

“I met this girl at the festival named Mia.” Kayla checked her watch. “I’m supposed to meet her at the Eastborn Motel at ten this morning. She claims she has information about Kirby’s murder.”

“She could’ve killed him. Tell the Inspector and let him talk to her.”

“I can’t tell anyone and I don’t think she wants to go to the police.” Kayla pushed her plate away. “I’m going.”

“This is too weird. Some chick shows up out of nowhere? How did she even know who you were?”

“I gotta see Mia.” Kayla rubbed her neck. “She might have the answers I need.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“Come with me?” Kayla touched Malissa’s hand. “I don’t wanna go alone.”

“Kay.” She sighed, stroking her dry lips. “We need to go to the police. What if she’s the killer?”

“I got to know something okay?” She held Malissa’s hand to her heart. “Please do this. You’re my best friend. I need you.”

“God.” She snatched her hand away. “Of course I won’t let you go by yourself. I just hope we don’t end up like Kirby.”

Kayla and Malissa jumped out the cab in front of the dingy, orange Eastborn Motel.

Men, with short afros and long dreads, sat in front of the building smoking joints while women in tank tops and miniskirts danced to reggae playing from the boombox on the steps.

“Let me guess,” Malissa said as women walked out the building, straightening their clothes. “Is this Mia a prostitute?”

Kayla took a deep breath, hoping she could keep her nerves in check. “Why?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Malissa put her hands in her pockets. “Maybe the hookers all over the place gave it away.”

The men howled and ogled when Malissa and Kayla rushed up the paint-chipped stairs.

“What room did she say again?” Malissa followed Kayla to the second floor.

“Fifteen.”

They turned the corner and found room fifteen.

“Oh,” a woman howled from room fourteen followed by the shriek of dancing bedsprings.

“Still wondering if Mia is a prostitute?” Malissa asked. “I doubt any woman would stay in this place if she weren’t.”

Kayla knocked on room fifteen. “I don’t care what she is if she can help me with Kirby’s murder.”

Mia opened the door and yanked the cigarette out her mouth. “Come in.” She gestured for them to enter.

Kayla and Malissa exchanged worried glances and hurried inside.

“Who is this?” Mia smashed her cigarette into the small tray of ashes.

“This is my best friend Malissa. You said come alone but I’m not familiar with Jamaica and need someone by my side.”

“Why?” Mia asked. “You think I’m the killer?”

“How am I to be sure you didn’t have anything to do with it?”

“If you don’t trust me, then you can leave.” Mia pointed to the door. “I’m risking my life here to help you.”

“Why?” Malissa asked, tilting her head. “What’s in it for you?”

“Peace.” Mia moved her cell phone and sweatpants out the way and sat on the bed. “Something I haven’t had because of guilt. You have no idea how it consumes.”

“I think I do.” Kayla pushed her hair behind her ears. “And, I trust you. I sort of don’t have a choice, do I?”

“I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my life, but I’m not a killer and I don’t agree with hurting others.”

“It’s okay.” Kayla sat beside Mia whose cigarette stench made her wanna gag but she fought to keep her composure. “I don’t care what you’ve done in your life. Just tell me about Kirby.”

“I’m a whore, and I move weed. I was with my supplier a few weeks before Kirby was killed.”

Malissa sat in the chair beside the air conditioner on the floor.

Mia continued, “My supplier’s name is Big D. He’s the biggest weed pusher in Jamaica.”

“Well.” Kayla swallowed, registering the admission. “You have my attention.”

“Same here,” Malissa said.

“That night I was at Big D.’s and Kirby came over.”

“Kirby?” Kayla swallowed. “So he was involved with the biggest dealer on the island?” She chuckled. “Can I even be surprised at what I learn about him now, Malissa?”

She shrugged. “You wanted answers so let her give them.”

“Big D. and Kirby got into an argument,” Mia said. “Kirby owed him a lot of money and Big D. was sick of asking for it.”

Kayla pushed her palms into her knees. “How much money?”

“Twenty thousand dollars.”

Malissa whistled. “Holy shit.”

Kayla’s shoulders dropped. “God, was my brother dealing drugs?”

“I doubt it,” Mia said. “I’m guessing he got a loan from Big D. for some kind of debt. Many on the island are indebted to him. That’s how he makes the bulk of his money.”

“So, this Big D. might be the killer?” Malissa asked.

“I can’t go to the police.” Mia sniffled. “He’ll kill me if he found out I put his name in this, but I wanted to do the right thing. Kirby died in a horrific manner. No one deserved that.”

Kayla shook her head, eyes wide. “I’m trying to process all this.”

“Big D.’s not the kind to let someone walk away if he owes him something,” Mia said. “It wouldn’t be the first time he put a hit out on someone.”

“Where does Big D. live?”

Malissa held her hand out to Kayla. “Kay.”

“Where does he live, Mia? I gotta talk to him.”

“Are you crazy?” Malissa jumped up. “You heard what she said. This is the biggest gangster in Jamaica. You can’t just walk up to him and take a meeting. We need the police.”

“The same police that’s dragging their feet?” Kayla stood, pushing off the bed. “I don’t care about the danger. I’m in this all the way.”

“Stop it.” Malissa grabbed her. “You’re scaring me. It’s like you’re obsessed.”

“I’m not obsessed.” Kayla pushed Malissa’s hands away. “I’m on a mission and I thought you understood how important this is.”

“I don’t want to lose you, idiot. You confront this guy about this and you’ll end up in a body bag, Kay.”

“She’s right.” Mia stood, pulling her blouse. “There’s no way you can just walk up to Big D. You need someone to take you inside.”

“Can you do it?”

“No.” Mia shook her head, gaping. “I can’t get involved any more than I am. If he knew I told you this, I’m dead.” She held up her hands. “I’m out at this point.”

“Mia, please.” Kayla sighed. “How do I meet him?”

“You let one of his men bring you in. That’s the only way Big D. will trust you enough to even see you.”

“Okay.” Kayla rubbed her jeans. “Anyone you can recommend?”

“No,” Malissa said. “We need to cut this shit out now and go to the police.”

Kayla got closer to Mia. “Who could help me see Big D.?”

“Out of all his men I’d say Zero is your best bet.”

“Zero?” Malissa repeated.

“Yeah, he’s a sucker for a pretty face.” Mia raised her chin, focusing on Kayla. “He’ll fall all over you. Be eating out of your hands.”

Kayla rubbed her hands, fidgeting. “Where can I find this Zero?”

“The Busy Bee Pool Hall.” Mia paced, holding her waist. “It’s like his second home.”

“Would he be there now?” Kayla asked with Malissa pulling on her arm.

Mia nodded and gave the address.

“Let’s go before that cab takes off.”

Malissa jumped in front of Kayla. “You can’t do this.”

“I’m going. Either you’re in or you’re out.”

Malissa pressed her palm to her forehead. “I guess I’m in.”

Kayla hugged her. “Thank you.”

Chapter 9

No one occupied the Busy Bee Pool Hall except for three slender Jamaicans sitting at a table watching a Caribbean soap opera.

The funk of sweat and cigarettes grew stronger thanks to the circulating ceiling fan in the middle of the room.

“Well.” Malissa stared at the men who locked their sights on her and Kayla. “Think one of them is Zero?”

“Mia said he was short, dark-skinned and had dreads,” Kayla answered out the corner of her mouth.

“And, that narrows it down to the entire island.” Malissa gripped her waist. “You were so tough back at the motel so…” She shoved Kayla forward.

The men looked at each other and snickered.

“May we help you?” The tallest one with the dirty Scooby Doo T-shirt yanked the toothpick out his mouth.

“Yes,” Kayla said. “I’m looking for a guy who hangs out here.”

“Ah, you’re American?” The chunky guy with the short, reddish dreads smiled wide. “You visiting?”

Kayla tipped her head. “Yes.”

“Welcome to Jamaica!” Chunky Guy clapped. “What is your name?”

“Kayla.” She pointed to Malissa. “And this is Malissa.”

Scooby Doo T-shirt winked, chewing the toothpick. “Beautiful names for beautiful women.”

“So?” The third man with the red shades perched on his head, turned his chair to face Kayla and Malissa. “What can we do for two American beauties? Need a tour?”

The men laughed.

“Trust me, love.” Shades winked at Kayla. “I can take you places you’ve never been.”

“We’re looking for Zero,” Malissa blurted. “Is he here?”

Shades grinned, his stare trailing Kayla’s body. “What do you need him for?”

“Is he here?” Malissa asked again. “We have something private to discuss with him.”

“Private?” Chunky Guy cackled. “We’re interested in anything private with you two.”

The men approached, circling them.

“Eh-oh.” Malissa stepped on Kayla’s foot as she backed up.

“Look, we don’t want trouble,” Kayla said. “We need to talk to Zero. Can you tell us where he is?”

Scooby Doo T-shirt blew his tobacco breath in Kayla’s face. “Is the information important to you?”

“It is.” She swallowed. “Please.”

“How important?” Shades raised an eyebrow. “Important enough to give us something if we told you where Zero was?”

“You want money?” Kayla dug in her pocket and pulled out three twenty dollar bills. “I left my purse in my hotel room and this is all I have on me.”

Shades took it. “Sixty dollars?”

“Twenty for each of you if you want it. Just tell me where Zero is.”

“This isn’t enough.” Shades dispersed the other twenties to the men. “What else you got?” He moved closer to Kayla.

“N…nothing.” Kayla took Malissa’s hand. “That’s all I got.”

“All you got?” Scooby Doo T-shirt touched Malissa’s hair. “That’s not all you got.”

“Stop it.” She slapped his hand away.

“Oh, ho, ho!” Chunky Guy laughed. “This one’s feisty.”

“How about you?” Shades asked Kayla with half-moon eyes. “Are you feisty too?” He touched her cheek.

“Don’t touch me.” She slapped him.

“Whoa.” Chunky Guy laughed with his hand over his mouth.

“Let’s go, Malissa.”

“I don’t think so.” Shades pulled Kayla back and locked his arms around her waist.

“Let me go.” She struggled.

“Leave her alone.” Malissa reached for her but Scooby Doo T-shirt blocked her.

“Show me how much you wanna find Zero.” Shades yanked Kayla’s head back and puckered his lips.

“No.” She pushed at his hard chest. “Stop!”

“Leave her alone!” Malissa fought as the others grabbed her. “Help!”

“Hey!” Tate stood in the doorway. “Let them go right now.”

Shades snickered, still holding Kayla by the hair. “Or what?”

Chunky Guy smacked his lips. “What you going to do, White Boy?”

“This.” Tate took a gun from his shorts.

“Holy shit,” Kayla whispered.

“Fuck, man.” Shades and the others backed away. “We were just joking around.”

“Didn’t look that way.” Tate stepped inside, shades placed on top of his head. “You all right?” he asked the women.

They nodded.

“Then let’s go.” He backed up to the door, gun steady on the men. “Let this be a lesson to you, fellas. When a woman says no, you should listen.”

“You got a death wish, Kayla?” Tate glanced at her while navigating his jeep. “What the hell were you doing?”

“Finding answers to what happened to my brother in case you’ve forgotten.” She huffed and puffed in the passenger’s seat, sweat drenching her cleavage. “How did you know where we were?”

“Malissa texted me.”

“What?” Kayla turned toward the backseat.

Malissa avoided eye contact.

“It doesn’t matter how I found you be glad I did. No telling what would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up. How could you be so stupid?”

“It wasn’t stupid.” Kayla moved the seatbelt off her breast. “You carry a gun?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “Kirby’s turning around in his grave right now. You have any idea the danger you were in?”

“I don’t need you coming to my rescue.”

“Apparently, you do.”

Malissa touched Kayla’s seat. “Kay?”

“You be quiet. You had no business telling him where we were. How did you know his number anyway?”

“I gave it to her at the festival. I figured you’d get yourself in trouble.” Tate made a fast right. “I wanted Malissa to keep me informed in case something happens.”

“I’m a grown woman.” The wind whipped Kayla’s hair. “I can take care of myself.”

Tate glanced at Malissa and scooted closer to Kayla, whispering, “Why have you been avoiding me?”

Kayla smacked her lips. “What?”

“I’ve been calling you all day.” He cut his gaze to Malissa. “We gonna pretend like last night didn’t happen?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

The jeep swerved.

“Watch the road.” Kayla pointed.

He settled back into his seat. “Did I do something wrong?”

Malissa held her blowing hair out her face, snickering.

“Huh?” Tate whispered. “We can’t act like it didn’t happen.”

“No need to whisper.” Kayla laid her head back on the rest. “Malissa already knows.”

“You told her?” He scowled.

“She’s my best friend.”

“That was our personal business, Kayla.” He stopped at the red light. “Jesus.”

“It doesn’t matter because it was a mistake and it’s never going to happen again.”

“Who says?”

“I say.”

He continued through the green light. “But, you loved it.”

“Did I say that?”

Tate glanced at Malissa again. “Your body said it.”

“Just stop it. I won’t let you distract me. I came here for Kirby and not to get involved with you.”

“We like each other.” He steered with one hand. “You can’t deny it. How do you think last night happened? We couldn’t fight it.”

“I can’t do this, Tate.”

“Because of Kirby?”

“No, because of me,” she shouted. “I don’t know you.”

He huffed. “You know my finger.”

“Ooh, hoo, hoo.” Malissa slapped her hands over her mouth, laughing.

Kayla mumbled, concentrating on the street ahead.

Chapter 10

After two days of staying away from Tate, Kayla took him up on his offer to spend time together. Excuse or not to have a date with her, Kayla jumped at the chance to see him again.

Tate was a walking brochure for the sights and sounds of Kingston. He told her about the hottest spots, the places to stay away from, and the unique quirks Jamaicans shared that made them so interesting.

They began the day at eleven that morning where Tate took her to Emancipation Park, a tribute to Jamaican slaves in 1838.

The moment she set foot on the vibrant, shamrock-green grass, emotion overtook her as Tate recounted how slaves won their freedom.

After that, he took her on a cultural tour of three hours showing her the everyday life of the locals. During the scenic ride, Kayla’s mind welcomed many thoughts including the possibility of not letting Kirby’s murder rule the purpose of her visit, which became more confusing the longer she stayed.

Every time Tate smiled at her, looked at her, or got too close she forgot the reason she’d arrived.

A man’s presence never set her on fire as Tate’s did. Her heart burst through her chest at the sound of his voice. Her knees knocked and her stomach flipped whenever she stared into those blue eyes, which told their own story just by looking at them.

They visited the Institute of Jamaica and the National Gallery of Jamaica.

They escaped to one of Kingston’s most popular eateries, where Kayla’s palate danced in the exotic, sweet, and spicy seasonings of signature, Caribbean dishes.

When night fell, Tate took her to his place and to the backyard. “You had fun, right?” He smirked, leading her to the table on the patio. “Didn’t you?”

“How can you ask that?” Her ass relaxed on the chair cushion. “You took me on a journey.”

He smiled with delight shooting from his eyes.

“You’re an amazing man, Tate. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“Why am I amazing?” He leaned over her, placing his hand on the table. “Because of my stories? I hope you find the man as amazing as his adventures.”

“Definitely.” Kayla closed her eyes, enjoying the aroma of rum from the strawberry daiquiris on his breath. “You’re like boos.”

He laughed. “Excuse me?”

She blinked slow, eyelids weighing a thousand pounds. “I’m drunk off you.”

He stood straight, more laughter escaping. “I’ve never been described that way before.”

“Come on.” She jiggled in the chair. “Don’t tell me you don’t have this effect on all the women.”

“I don’t care about all the women, Kayla.” He dragged his fingertip up her naked arm and gripped the strap of her peach summer dress. “Just the one in front of me.”

“Why do you like me?” She tangled her fingers in his and his smirk disappeared. “Tell me.”

“Why wouldn’t I like you?” He pushed his hand up her dress, tickling the inside of her thighs. “You’re a walking fantasy.” He planted a wild kiss on her lips and then set them free with a smack. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re in love.” He swept his arm around her waist, the softness of his palm landing on the curve of her back. “Are you in love, Kayla?”

“Before today, I would’ve said you were insane for asking me that.”

He bent lower, face so close her eyes crossed when she looked at him. “Now?”

“And now I don’t care about labeling things or explanations. I want you to take me on an adventure every time we’re together.”

“I can’t promise that every day will be like this.”

“See you don’t get it.” She smiled, stroking his warm cheek. “No matter what we do or say, with you it’s always an adventure.”

“That’s what you want?” He knelt between her legs on one knee. “Adventure?”

“Right now…” She held his shoulders, his muscles flexing underneath her touch. “I want you.” She grabbed his neck, capturing his mouth in hers. “Mm.” She moved away, bumping his nose. “You can have me right here if you want me.”

He chuckled, breathless. “Wow.” He touched his mouth and looked at the stain of her lipstick on his finger. “Sounds like something out of a movie.”

She shrugged. “It just came out.”

“You want me to take you, you mean?” His mouth quivered as he stuck his hand back up her dress, fondling her cunt through her beige, cotton panties. “Take you where? Where you wanna go, Kayla?”

“Anywhere as long as it’s with you.” She kissed him again; his eyes remained open. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” He panted, looking at the cement patio. “It’s just—”

“Just what?” She got woozy as if she’d taken too much medicine. “Don’t you want me?” She touched the buttons of his short-sleeve shirt. “Did I do something wrong?”

“We had our moment the other night and afterwards you ignored me for two days.” He batted his eyes. “If we make love tonight, you’ll ignore me for a week?”

“No.”

“How do I know that?” He curled his fingers into a relaxed fist. “What are we doing, Kayla?”

“You tell me.” She grinned from his sudden shift in mood. “You invited me here, remember?”

“I did.” He chewed his bottom lip. “But, I’m not sure if I should’ve.”

“Excuse me?” Her voice cracked from embarrassment. “Are you rejecting me, Tate?”

“I’m rejecting being rejected.”

“That makes little sense.”

He rubbed his hair, messing his curls. “God knows I want you, but I don’t want to be your escape, Kayla. I don’t want you to enjoy me while you’re in town and then go back to Florida like I never existed.”

“Where is this coming from?” She tilted her head. “You had no problem finger-fucking me the last time.”

“I don’t want you to forget me.” He grabbed her wrist, staring her dead in the face. “I want this to be more than a temporary adventure.”

She tried to free her hand. “Are you saying you want us to be a couple?”

“What’s wrong with that?” He swept his hand under her hair.

“It’s too soon.”

“I see.” He squinted. “Not too soon to fuck but too soon for a commitment.”

She laughed. “Are you insane? Tate, we don’t know enough about each other.”

He clutched her thighs. “I want to be with you.”

“Oh, God.” She shook her head. “There is a difference between an attraction and becoming a couple. That’s a huge step and we’re strangers.”

“We’re not strangers. I fell for you through Kirby. I’ve wanted you all this time.”

“Tate—”

“This is real, Kayla.” He tapped his chest. “It might sound weird to you but it’s what I’ve dealt with for a long time. That’s why it’s fate that brought you here. You didn’t come down here just for Kirby. You came down here for me. To be with me.”

“You only know what Kirby told you about me, and I hadn’t seen him in ten years.”

He let her go, frowning.

“Wait.” She touched his face. “Don’t get the wrong idea.”

“I feel like I’m not worthy to be more. Like I’m only good enough for you to have fun with.”

Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m scared you’re gonna hurt me.”

“What?” He kissed her, caressing her shin. “Baby, I don’t intend on hurting you.”

“Reginald did.” She wiped a tear. “That’s the guy who cheated on me. I gave him everything, Tate. I’d never given a man that much of me before and he hurt me in a way I can’t explain. I like being with you, but right now I’m comfortable like this.” She massaged his strong shoulders. “Scratching the physical itch is easier.”

“What about the emotional itch? How long, can you fight that?”

“I hope long enough to make it off this island. I don’t wanna fall in love with you.”

“I think you already have.” He grabbed the back of her neck and pushed her lips on his.

“Tate…”

He pulled her to the pavement.

“Tate.”

“Shut up.” He lifted her dress, placed lazy kisses on her stomach and then lowered his head between her legs.

“Tate.” She pushed at his shoulders as he shoved his head between her thighs. “Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” he mumbled between kissing her thighs. “Isn’t this what you want?” He pulled at her panties. “Sex with no strings?”

“No, this isn’t what I want.” She pushed him away and fixed her panties. “What’s wrong with you?”

He glared at her, huffing and puffing. “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

She sighed, laying her head to the pavement. “You can’t promise that.”

“Give me a chance.” He swept her into a passionate kiss and slipped off her panties. “Trust me.” He kissed her knee; a continuous tingle erupted in the pit of her stomach.

Before she took her next breath, Tate’s thick tongue penetrated her tender folds. “Oh.” Kayla gyrated with her arms out, gripping air. “Yes.”

Tate tickled her throbbing clit while tonguing her twat.

“Ooh.” Kayla jerked, wrapping her legs over his shoulders. “Don’t stop.” She sunk her fingers into his silk curls. “Ah.”

Tate clamped his lip on her labia, flicking her walls with his tongue.

Kayla closed her eyes, elbows burning from the friction of the cement. “Yes, yes, yes.” She leaned back, grinding her wet snatch against his head.

He pried her thighs further apart and latched his mouth onto the bud of her clit.

“Right there,” Kayla squealed. “Like that. God, yes!” She exploded, the tingle shooting to the base of her feet. “Fuck.” She grabbed her head, shivering until the orgasm passed. “Oh.”

Tate climbed on top of her and kissed her, wetting her mouth with her own juices.

“Mm.” Kayla licked his lips between kisses, another tingle brewing in her pelvis as she tasted herself on his lips.

“You taste so good.” He sucked her bottom lip. “Think of how good this could be if emotions were involved.” He kissed her breasts through her dress. “You’re so beautiful.” He spread her legs wider, fumbling with his pants. “I wanna be inside you.”

She moaned, hungry for his dick.

As Tate pulled his pants down, a faint doorbell rang.

He snatched his lips from Kayla’s mouth. “Was that my doorbell?”

It rang again.

“Yeah.” Kayla took a deep breath.

“Fuck it.” He French-kissed her, lowering his pants to his ankles. “They’ll go away—”

“Tate?” a female voice called out from the front of the house.

Kayla recognized the Australian accent.

Jewel sashayed through the fence in a tight, spandex dress, carrying a bottle of wine.

“What the fuck?” Tate got off Kayla, wiping his mouth.

Jewel smiled, her hair swept into an elegant French roll. “My.” She lowered the bottle with a sneaky grin. “Isn’t this interesting?” She waved. “Nice to see you again, Kayla.”

Tate stood, doing a double take. “You two have met?”

“Oh yes.” Jewel rocked from side to side. “At the festival.”

Kayla stood, straightening her dress. “Am I missing something here?”

“You mean between Tate and I?” Jewel shrugged. “Tate, is she missing something?”

He exhaled through his nostrils. “Kayla, Jewel is my ex-girlfriend. The one I mentioned.”

“I see.” Kayla scoffed, glaring at Jewel. “That’s interesting.”

“He mentioned me?” Jewel grinned. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be.” Kayla faked a smile, giving Jewel a thorough once over. “What he said wasn’t anything you should get happy about.”

“What the fuck are you doing, Jewel?” Tate asked.

She pushed the wine in Tate’s face. “Did you forget our romantic evening?”

“Are you nuts?” He pushed the bottle out his face and turned to Kayla. “Don’t listen to any of this shit. She’s crazy.”

“Really?” Kayla squinted.

“She won’t leave me alone.” Tate snatched the wine and threw it onto the pavement, breaking the bottle. “That’s it, Jewel. I’m not taking this shit anymore.” He yanked out his phone. “You won’t listen then let’s see if you listen to the police.”

“Don’t bother putting on a show for your new girlfriend, Tate.”

“Don’t listen to her, Kayla.” He dialed. “She’s trying to twist things. That’s what she does.”

Jewel held her waist, chin in the air. “He invited me over here or else why would I come dressed like this and with wine?”

“She’s lying.” Tate swatted the phone in Jewel’s direction. “I didn’t invite her over. You have to believe me, Kayla.”

“Either she’s telling the truth, or she’s sick in the head.”

“She’s sick in the head.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, darling.” Jewel batted her long lashes. “Kayla, you’re a smart woman. What does this look like to you?”

“She followed us, Kayla. She concocted this thing to make you think I’m with her, but I’m not.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Jewel said. “Like I have time to do that.”

“Kayla, please.” Tate reached for her hand. “She’s lying.”

“Don’t touch me.” She moved away from him.

“Kayla.”

“I’m going back to the hotel.”

He grabbed her. “No, listen.”

“Let go of me, Tate.”

He did. “Kayla, please. She’s lying. She’s stalking me.”

“In your dreams.” Jewel patted her hair. “Do I look like I need to stalk someone, Kayla?”

“I think you’re both playing games, and I can’t believe anything that comes out your mouth.” She got her panties off the ground.

“Where are you going?” Tate pulled her back. “I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

She broke free and stomped toward the fence. “I’ll call a cab and wait in the front for it.”

“Kayla, don’t do this.”

She exited through the gate and made her way to the front porch.

Chapter 11

“Fucking bitch.” Tate shoved Jewel after Kayla left the backyard. “It’s over!” Spit flew out his mouth. “These games, the harassment, all of it.”

“What are you gonna do?” She pushed on her breasts, the slyest grin covering her lips. “Kill me like you did Kirby?”

He wobbled. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You heard me.” She wiggled her hips. “You killed Kirby, didn’t you? At least that’s what it looks like.”

“You ever tire of playing these games?”

“Three days before Kirby was killed you two had one hell of a fight at his place. In all the years I’ve known both of you I’d never seen you get so mad at Kirby.”

“Jesus.” He leaned over, gripping his knees.

“Yeah, I saw the entire thing, Tate.” She tapped her foot. “I remember how mad you were and the rage in your voice.”

He straightened himself and it took every fiber of his being not to smack her in the face.

“In fact, you’re looking at me the same way you did Kirby that night. Like you want to kill me.”

“Get out.” His fists shook at his sides. “Get the fuck out while you can, Jewel.”

“I’m in control.” She patted his cheeks and he flinched. “If the police found out about that fight it wouldn’t be good for you.”

He clenched his teeth. “I did not kill Kirby.”

“I wonder how Kayla would feel…” She crossed her arms, glancing toward the fence. “If she knew about that horrible fight?”

The large vein in his neck pulsated. “What did I ever see in you?”

She swallowed and her smugness faded as if hurt by his comment.

“We loved each other at one point,” he said.

“I still love you, Tate. That’s why I can’t let you go.”

“If you loved me, then you wouldn’t do this.” He exhaled through his nose. “You would leave me alone and let me live my life.”

“I’m not letting you push me out your life like I don’t matter. Here’s the deal. If you don’t want me to go to the police, then you’d better stay away from Kayla.” Her nostrils flared. “You understand me?”

“You won’t tell me what to do and who I can see. Go to the police if you want. You got shit.”

She smirked. “We’ll see.”

Tate followed Jewel out the gate, waited for her to leave, and then joined Kayla on the porch.

She crossed her legs and crooked her body in the opposite direction, avoiding eye contact.

He sat beside her on the two-seater. “Kayla.”

“Save it, please.”

His shoulders shrank. “You’re the only woman I’m interested in right now.”

She bobbed her foot. “Until your next victim comes along?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m glad this happened because it knocked sense into me. It’ll make me stay on track and forget whatever it is we’ve been doing.”

“Can’t we finish what we started?” He chuckled. “This time in my bedroom?”

“The only place I’m going is back to the hotel.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I have enough to deal with.”

“Don’t turn your back on what this could be.” He stroked her shoulder. “I want you and you feel the same—”

“Shove it, Tate.”

He let her go, mumbling.

A cab cruised toward them and stopped in front of the house.

Kayla stood, waving at the driver. “I got to go.”

“Wait.” Tate took her hand. “Can I still help you with Kirby’s murder?”

“You got all this other shit going on.” She pulled his hand from hers. “Focus on that.”

“Nothing is more important than you and what happened to Kirby.”

“Fine.” She dipped her head. “But, we should just be friends.”

He sighed. “Not sure I can.”

“If you wanna continue helping me, then you’d better try.”

She walked off the porch.

Kayla’s phone rang when she got into the cab. She instructed the driver to take her to her hotel, checked the caller ID and then answered, “Inspector Wright?”

“Hello, Miss Atkins,” his laidback voice always made him sound drunk. “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Is this about Kirby?”

“Yes, but this might surprise you.”

“Believe me…” She watched the moonlight zapping through the palm trees as the cab continued. “Nothing you say will surprise me about my brother anymore.”

“We found out that your brother had an affair with a man named Liron Francis.”

“Never heard of him.” She scoffed. “Not that I would I guess.”

“Kirby met Liron through Kirby’s job. Liron came in for a loan and they hit it off and dated.”

“So, this guy is a suspect then?”

“He could be but we can’t even question him. He lawyered up right after he heard we wanted to speak to him.”

“Shit. We can’t just let that be the end. This guy might’ve killed my brother. We gotta find out what went on between them.”

“Sorry to dangle a carrot in front of you, but I wanted to keep you up on everything.”

“I appreciate it.” She propped her elbow against the window. “Please, please see if there is anything you can do to talk to this man.”

“All we can do is keep digging for a possible motive. It is suspicious that he got a lawyer so quick, but he has rights and his lawyer will protect them.”

“What does this Liron do?”

“He manages the food store on Angas Drive. Miss Atkins, do not engage with him.”

She grinned. “Whatever you say.”

“I’m serious. If you contact Liron, you could mess up the investigation. Is that what you want?”

“No.”

“Let us handle everything. We’ll keep working on the Liron angle.”

“What about Big D and the Rastafarians?”

“Nothing on either front so far.”

She exhaled. “Okay, thanks for telling me about Liron.”

“You’re welcome. Good night, Miss Atkins.”

“Good night, Inspector.”

She hung up and called Malissa to fill her in on the news.

“Don’t worry about it, okay?” Malissa and Kayla entered the hotel lounge the following afternoon after visiting Liron. “We’ll just concentrate on other leads.”

They ordered orange cocktails and sat on the suede sectional by the window.

Kayla sipped the tangy drink, watching the people outside at the pool. “Maybe I should give up and go back home.”

“You can’t give up.” Malissa sipped from her straw. “Besides, I can’t take another ten years of you feeling guilty about Kirby.”

“Why would Liron refuse to see the police and then act a fool with us when we tried to talk to him? It makes no sense.”

Malissa wiggled her toes in her sandals. “Just because he doesn’t wanna be involved doesn’t make him guilty.”

“The man threw a fit in the middle of the store when I asked him a simple question.”

“That’s not how it went, Kay. You got loud and accused the guy of being involved in front of all his employees and customers.” Malissa yanked the rubber band off her hair, releasing her ponytail. “I’d have thrown you out too. It’s one thing to talk to someone but you can’t go around accusing people.”

“Whatever.” Kayla let out an exasperated sigh. “I doubt you’d be taking up for Liron if your bother had been hacked to pieces like a fish.”

“I’m not taking…” Malissa huffed. “Could you please cool the attitude for once today? You on your period or something?”

“No.” Kayla slammed her eyes shut, wiggling her neck. “You’re just getting on my damn nerves. I don’t need your two cents.”

“Fine.” Malissa stood. “I took time out of my life to come here and help you because I care.” Her voice cracked. “But, you’ve turned into such a bitch so why even bother.” She turned to leave.

“Malissa.” Kayla jumped up, grabbing her. “I’m sorry.”

She sighed.

“I’m so sorry, honey.” Kayla kissed her cheek. “I appreciate everything you’re doing for me. I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Then why have you been so bitchy today?”

“Come on and sit down.” Kayla pulled her back onto the sectional. “I’m wound up about Tate. So much confusing shit going on in my head.”

“Because of that Jewel woman?” Malissa looked in her drink. “You believe him when he says it’s over?”

“I want to.” Kayla nibbled on her thumbnail. “But, is it because I want an excuse to be around him? I keep getting this nagging feeling I should be careful around him.”

Tate sauntered into the lounge in white shorts with a sharp crease in the front and sneakers without socks.

“Shit.” Kayla dropped her head.

“What?” Malissa saw Tate and gaped. “Damn, does he have radar or something?”

“I’m not ready to talk to him.”

Tate caught sight of the women and approached.

Malissa gnawed on her straw. “Doesn’t look like you have a choice.”

“Hey.” Tate stood in front of them, wide-legged.

“Hi, Tate.” Malissa smiled.

“How are you?” He returned a smile. “Can I talk to you, Kayla?”

“If it’s about Jewel, I don’t want to hear it.”

“Please, let me explain.”

“I’m not your girlfriend or anything.” She got her drink and lowered it to her lap. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to explain.” The turquoise T-shirt brought out the green specks within the blue of his eyes. “What Jewel said was a lie.”

“I’ll be by the pool.” Malissa stood. “I’ll see you, Tate.”

“Bye.” He sat in her spot.

Malissa winked at Kayla as she left.

“I was hoping you’d calmed down once you slept on it.”

Kayla sat against the pillows. “You confuse the hell out of me.”

“I swear Jewel is lying. I’m not seeing her. If I’d made plans to see her would I’ve invited you back to my place?”

She sipped her drink. “You have a point.”

“I can’t get those things you said about me out of my head. I want to be more than sex, but I don’t want to pressure you.”

She pursed her lips. “I appreciate that.”

“Did you mean what you said about how I make you feel?”

“Yes. I love being with you. You rescue me from everything I’ve been feeling.”

“I want to see how far this can go.” He touched her leg. “Please, don’t be afraid of me, Kayla.”

“I’m not afraid.” She rubbed the top of his hand. “Despite how upset I was last night, I regretted leaving.”

“We were about to make love.” His eyes twinkled. “I’m glad we didn’t though.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t wanna rush you. I want to make sure this is what you want.”

“It is. That’s why it’s so scary.”

“You don’t have to be scared.” He scooped her into his arms and kissed her, relieving her of any doubt she had concerning Jewel. “You want to go out tonight?”

She tingled. “Where?”

He kissed her, winking. “On another adventure.”

She smiled.

Chapter 12

“Goodness gracious.” Kayla’s sandals caught twigs and branches as she crept through the forest that night. “Is this the surprise?” She waved away tiny flies. “Because a simple dinner would’ve sufficed.”

Tate glanced back with a smirk, his curls combed into flat waves. “We’re almost there.”

“Almost where?” Kayla tripped on a tree root. “Shoot.” She held the skirt of her white dress to keep it from getting dirty. “I wouldn’t have worn this dress if I’d known we were going on a Safari.”

He guffawed. “Stop whining will you?” He pulled on her hand, his touch reminding her of what she’d endure to be with him. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Why?” She touched a tree as they continued through the forest. “What adventure do you have in store for me now?”

“This is it.” Tate stood in the middle of the clearing, specks of dirt on the tip of his sneakers. “Ta da. You like it?”

Kayla checked out the spot encased by trees. “There’s nothing here.”

“What are you talking about nothing?” Tate pointed to the radiant, ebony sky. “See those stars, woman?” He inhaled and exhaled. “Smell that? It’s earth. Mother Nature at her finest.”

Kayla sniffed, her nose catching the smell of his musky cologne and the tree moss that surrounded them.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Tate pinched her cheek. “You said anything with me was an adventure.”

“It’s nice.”

The soaring trees stretched their branches out as if trying to grab Kayla and Tate.

“Come here.” Tate kissed her. “Are you disappointed?”

“No,” she lied. “I love looking at the stars.”

He laughed.

“What?”

“Okay, this isn’t the real surprise.” He headed into the trees and brought back a blanket. He lay the blanket on the ground and got a picnic basket and a bottle of wine from the same hiding spot.

“Wow.” Kayla grinned, slapping her hands over her mouth. “A moonlight picnic? Tate?”

“This is the real surprise.” He set the basket and wine on the blanket.

“This is so romantic.” Kayla fell to her knees on the blanket, grabbing him into a smothering hug. “I love picnics.”

“I guess I got lucky with the perfect idea, huh?” He opened the bottle of Chardonnay.

“Your hands are shaking.” She sat Indian-style, straightening her dress. “You nervous?”

“It’s difficult keeping my cool seeing you in that dress.”

Kayla’s cleavage hung from the fabric. “Too much for you?”

He passed her a glass of wine and then poured his own.

“You love surprising people, don’t you?” She giggled, the oak, buttery flavor of the wine seducing her senses.

“You hungry?”

“I’m starving.” Kayla lifted her head, squinting. “Not so much for food though.”

“Down, girl.” Tate laid out a small tray of tropical fruit, cheese, green olives and pita bread.

“Olives!” Kayla snatched a handful of olives.

“You said you loved them though I don’t know why.” He set a plate of plastic-wrapped sandwiches on the blanket. “They’re nothing but disgusting balls of salt.”

“Stick me in a house full of olives and let me eat my way out.” Kayla chewed the potent pellets. “Try some. They’ll awaken your palate.”

“I can’t stand those nasty things.”

Kayla stuck her lips out, devouring another olive. “You’re the most romantic man I’ve met.”

He stopped tending to the food and stared at her. “Romantic enough for you to take the chance and become more?” He stretched his legs and sat on his butt.

“Course I’ve been thinking about our conversation from last night.” She ate a chilled watermelon ball. “Even if I wanted to date you, how would it work? I live in Florida and you live here.”

“Long distance relationships can work.” He fidgeted as if unsure himself. “If you put in effort.”

“Long distance won’t work for me. I want a man I can be around, touch, and see.” She drank. “Why make something more difficult than it has to be?”

“So you want to stop whatever it is we’ve been doing?”

“No.” She touched his leg. “I wanna keep seeing you.”

“You can’t have it both ways, Kayla.” He licked pita breadcrumbs off his mouth. “Either we are together or we’re not.”

She stared at him, hoping he’d read the meaning without her expressing it.

“Oh, I see.” He nodded, tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth. “You want us to stay in touch here and there and then get together when you feel like coming to Jamaica? And then I can fuck your brains out once in a while and we go off to our lives until we see each other again?”

“Tate—”

“If that’s what you want then you can leave right now.”

“You’re putting a lot of pressure on me and it isn’t fair.”

“What’s not fair is you tearing my heart out.” The muggy breeze awoke the curls within his waves. “Why should it be on your terms?”

She huffed, avoiding eye contact. “You have no right to put me in this position.”

“Do you have someone in Florida?”

“No.” She set down her glass. “I swore I wouldn’t allow another man to hurt me like Reginald did. I considered you and I becoming more but then the Jewel stuff happened.”

“That’s over. What can I do for you to believe it?”

She scratched her naked shoulder.

“If you have doubts, why are you here, huh?” He leaned forward on his knees.

“Because no matter what my mind says, my heart is telling me something different. It’s saying to take a chance.”

“Which part are you gonna listen to?” He sucked her neck, arousal flushing through her. “Which part makes you happier?”

“I want it all, Tate.” She kissed him. “I want the adventure and the control.”

“I want you to be my lady.” He grabbed her neck, holding her still for his kiss. “We can’t keep going like this.”

“Take chances, huh?”

“Yeah.” He moved the trays out the way and laid her flat. “Wouldn’t you rather experience adventures with me than not?” He pushed his hands under her dress, tugging on her panties.

“No.” She moved, getting on her knees. “It’s my turn.” She planted delicate baby kisses on his neck, teasing his erogenous zones. “What makes you hot?” She bit his neck.

“Oh.” He moaned. “That right there is a start.”

Kayla gripped his semi-erect middle. “You like this?” She massaged him, his dick extending in her hand.

“Yes.” He breathed harder, holding her shoulders. “Rub me. Slow.”

She followed his command and continued kissing from his neck to his belt.

“Hm.” Tate dragged his tongue across his lips. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“You kidding?” She pulled down his pants, sniffing his skin as she did. “I wanted to go down on you the first day we met.”

He laughed. “When you came after me with those scissors? Boy, we had a range of emotions that day didn’t we?”

She kissed the furry mound above his long, veiny cock. She pushed him onto the blanket, kissing his member while stroking his nipples.

“Ooh.” He rocked, illustrating he needed more. “I’ve never had a blow job underneath the stars before.”

“How do I know?” She delivered sharp licks to the sides of his dick. “You might bring all your women out here.”

“No.” He moaned. “It’s only been you and this has never happened.”

“Well, I’d never been finger-fucked in a man’s backyard before either.” She licked from the base to tip and then locked her lips on his shaft.

He gave a light moan as if surprised at how good it felt.

Kayla rubbed his thigh for absolute pleasure.

He spread his legs wider, proving she was on the right track.

She wrapped her fingers around his cock, caressing it while sucking.

“Yes.” He touched her head. “That’s good, Kayla. Oh fuck that’s so good.”

Her nipples throbbed, so she gave them hand attention, her mouth keeping its stride.

“Your lips feel so good.” Tate gyrated. “You’re making me come.”

“That’s the point.” She alternated, sucking, licking, and caressing his hottest spots.

“Yeah.” Tate jerked, thighs trembling against her head. “Kayla,” he screamed so loud the entire island could hear. “Ah.” His dick turned red, its muscles deflating.

She fingered his balls and continued sucking.

“I’m coming.” He bounced, holding her head in place. “Let me come in your mouth.”

Kayla moaned.

“Yes…” Tate lifted his ass off the ground and burst between Kayla’s lips. “Ooh. Yes.” He let her head go, his legs shivering. “Fuck.”

Kayla spit the pleasurable glob and crawled on top of him.

“Come here.” He twisted her head left and right, shoving his tongue into her mouth. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Yes.” She rode him through her clothes. “All night long.”

“I can do that.”

She moaned as his hardness returned.

“Get these off.” He pulled her dress up and moved her panties to one side, tearing the elastic. “Want me to use a rubber or—”

“I’m on the pill.” She licked around his tongue. “I wanna feel your dick inside me, nothing else.”

He wrapped his arms around her, directing his dick toward her sweet spot.

Kayla held her breath, bracing herself for the upcoming taste of heaven when something buzzed from Tate’s pants.

“Shit.” He exhaled between kisses. “Is that my phone?”

“I hope so.” Kayla played tongue-tag with him. “Or something else is buzzing in your pocket.”

“Ignore it, fuck.” He forced her legs wider, positioning his dick again as the phone buzzed a second time.

“You need to get it.” She got the phone out his pocket and checked the ID. “It’s the police.”

“What?” Tate took the phone, panting as if he’d given birth. “Hello? Yeah.”

Kayla listened, holding her breath.

“You want me to come now?” Tate asked into the phone, tugging his ear. “Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He got off the phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“Inspector Wright wants me to come down to the station.” He raised an eyebrow. “He wants to ask me something about Kirby.”

“He probably wants to brush up on details and you’re the closest person to Kirby.”

“Yeah.” He stroked his mouth.

“You okay?” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine.” He kissed her. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 13

“Well, Mr. O’Keefe?” Inspector Wright clasped the desk, shoulders back. “Is it true that you and Kirby fought three days before his death?”

“Um…” He rubbed his thighs.

“What?” Kayla whispered next to him. “You fought my brother?”

“It’s not what you think.” Tate looked back and forth at Wright and Kayla. “I didn’t hide it.”

“You didn’t disclose it either,” Wright said.

“Tate.” Kayla touched his shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Friends have arguments all the time.” He dropped his head. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“Kirby was stabbed fourteen times in an apparent fit of rage and you didn’t think it was important to tell us you’d argued?” Wright’s eyebrows collapsed. “This presents motive.”

“No, no, no wait.” Tate grabbed the edge of the desk. “You’re reading too much into it. You checked out my alibi which proves I wasn’t there when he was killed.”

“Okay, hold on,” Kayla interjected. “How do you go from an argument to saying Tate killed my brother?”

“He hid this on purpose,” Wright said.

Tate clenched his chest, jerking in the chair. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

“What about Kirby denying you a loan?” Wright asked. “Is that a big deal?”

Kayla gawked at Tate. “My brother denied you a loan?”

He stood, hitting the desk.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Wright asked. “Do you see how suspicious this looks?”

“You checked out my alibi.” Tate paced. “I didn’t kill Kirby. I wasn’t anywhere near his home that night. Kayla?” He rushed to her. “You gotta believe me. Please.”

“I do.” She took his hand.

“I’m the one you need to convince,” Wright said. “Tell me about this fight.”

“I went over to Kirby’s a few days before he was killed.” Tate sat, scratching his head. “Yes, he denied me for a loan. I have bad credit. Sue me.”

Kayla sighed.

“Kirby couldn’t get my loan approved. He promised me he would do all he could to help it go through.”

“And, when he didn’t you got upset?” Wright asked.

“Yeah, I was heated.” Tate wriggled his shoulders. “I was counting on that money to bail me out credit card debt.”

Wright nodded, rubbing his chin. “Did the fight turn violent?”

“A little.”

“What do you mean, ‘a little’?” Kayla asked.

“We exchanged a few blows, he threw me out and I left. It was just a fight. I didn’t hurt Kirby. He was my brother in every way.”

Wright tucked in his lips. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Tate stuck out his neck, gawking at Wright. “You believe me?”

“I have no proof of anything different and as you said your alibi checked out.”

Tate gripped the arms of the chair. “I can go?”

“You can go.”

“Thank you.” Tate stood, pulling Kayla from her chair.

“Wait,” she said. “Still nothing on Big D and the Rastafarians?”

“We spoke to Big D but got nothing concrete from him. He didn’t even admit to knowing your brother.”

“He’s lying.”

“Based off what?” Wright said. “Some little birdy who is too afraid to come to us and speak for themselves? As for the so-called Rastafarians, we can’t find any proof of that. I’ve spoken to the community.”

“Talk to Sakina again.” Kayla followed Tate to the door. “She might have something else to share about it.”

“Don’t tell me how to do my job, Miss Atkins.”

She turned to the door. “Looks like someone needs to.”

“Excuse me?” Wright stood. “You’re on thin ice, Miss Atkins. I could arrest you for interfering in a murder investigation concerning Liron. You had no business talking to him when I told you not to.”

“I’m not gonna just sit back.” She charged toward the desk.

Tate held her back. “Kayla.”

“To you, Kirby might be just another case, but he was my twin. I’ll never be as close to anyone as I was to him.”

“Your snooping could ruin the investigation.” He walked from behind the desk. “That’s what I’m trying to get you to see. Not to mention that it’s dangerous for you to keep poking your nose into this. If you want the police to do our jobs, then get out of our way.”

“Who was in your way before I got here because you weren’t doing shit then?” She flew out the office.

Tate rushed after her. “You okay?”

“Why didn’t you tell me about that fight? How could you keep something like that?” She pulled her purse strap on her arm. “I’m on your side, Tate, but don’t hide anything else from me.”

He nodded, stroking her arms. “I won’t.”

“I know you’re not a killer. If I thought for one second you were, I’d be the first telling Wright to lock you up.”

He kissed her, his expression shifting from pleasure to confusion. “Jewel.”

“What about her?”

“She must’ve been the one who told Wright about the fight. She threw it in my face last night.” He punched his palm. “I’m gonna kill her.”

Officers turned from desks and file cabinets.

“Eh, Tate.” Kayla winced as the cops glared at them. “It’s not a good idea to threaten murder in a police station.”

“I told you.” He waved his finger in her face. “Jewel’s sick.”

Kayla curled her lips. “How could you fall for someone like that?”

He put his arm around her as they walked toward the door. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Tate snatched Jewel by the neck as soon as she opened her front door.

She struggled, hitting him in the face as he pushed her against the wall, knocking over pictures of her and Tate. “Stop!” She clawed at his face.

“You can’t get the point, huh?” He tightened his fingers around her neck, redness filling her cheeks. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Let me go.” She kicked him in the groan and jumped back. “Get out of my house!”

“Get out of my life.” Tate huffed and puffed, holding his aching middle. “If you have any decency left in you, then you’ll stop this.”

Her cover up opened, revealing the silky lace of her gown. “You’re the one with the problem.” She touched her neck. “Not me.”

“You told police about the fight with Kirby.”

“What?”

“What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?” He stuck his chest out, gritting his teeth. “Get rid of you once and for all?”

“Is that a threat?”

“You don’t understand it when I ask you to go to hell so what choice do I have?”

“You holier-than-thou son of a bitch.” She pointed at him. “I’d never tell the police anything about you. That’s how much I love you. My love is unconditional unlike yours.”

“I don’t wanna hear this shit.” He reached for the door. “Come near me again and see what happens.”

“I love you.” She grabbed his arm, face wrecked with despair. “Tate, come on. Remember how you wanted me?” She kissed his hand, making him flinch. “Remember how much we meant to each other.”

“Ancient history.”

“It’s not history.” She touched his face, forcing his eyes on her. “We belong together.” She pressed her body against his. “I live for you.”

“Jewel.”

“I love you so much.” She put her arms around his waist. “Look at how hard I’m fighting. That proves my love, doesn’t it?”

He glanced at the ceiling, sighing.

“If someone loves you, then they would fight and never give up.” She wobbled her head, eyes narrow. “Would Kayla fight for you? She doesn’t love you the way I do.”

He pushed her away. “I could spend a lifetime with you and it wouldn’t equal one moment with her.”

She scowled, lips trembling.

“I wanna be with her in every sense of the word, and I will not let you spoil it. Pull another trick and see who’ll have the upper hand next time.”

“I didn’t go to the police.”

“I’m warning you.” He clenched her wrist. “I’ll do whatever I have to, to get you out of my life.”

She ripped her wrist from his grip, standing back. “My god.” She froze with her mouth open. “You wouldn’t be this worked up if you were innocent.”

He squinted. “What?”

“And how you came in here.” She rubbed her neck. “You never grabbed me like that before.”

“Remember it the next time you get into my business.”

“Tate?” She struggled to swallow. “Did you do it? Did you kill Kirby?”

“I—”

“Did you?”

“No.” The veins in his neck throbbed.

“All I know is how angry you were at him the night you fought. I watched you, remember?” She pointed a shaky finger at him. “Such anger just like right now.”

“I don’t care what you think.” He gripped the doorknob. “Stay the hell out of my life. It’s your last warning.”

Chapter 14

“Well, hello.” Tate answered his door the following night, shirtless in sweatpants and socks.

“Hey.” Kayla smiled, pushing away her perverted thoughts. “How are you?”

With workout gloves on, Tate leaned forward with his hands on the doorframe. “It’s good to see you.” His gaze fell to her midsection, and her pussy zapped into attention.

Kayla stroked the back of her blue and white summer dress, hoping to throw off how much she wanted him.

“I was working out.” He wiped sweat off his brow. “Something about exercising that gets my whole body jumping.”

“Yeah.” Kayla exhaled, her erect nipples pushing against her cotton bra. “I like to work out too. What uh, type of exercises were you doing?”

“Jumping rope and lifting weights.” He pointed back without taking his eyes off her. “I converted my guest bedroom into a little gym.” He smiled.

“Sounds nice.” Kayla closed her eyes, imagining his pecs bouncing as he jumped rope. She broke into laughter. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” His cheeks spread into a sly smile. “Something wrong?”

“No.” She dipped her head, hand over her eye. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” He rubbed his hands the way she wish he’d rub her breasts. “When you called you said you had something important to talk about.”

“I do, but I don’t wanna disturb you.”

He had that “I want you now” expression as he widened the door with his foot. “You’re not disturbing me.”

Kayla held her breath as she entered the narrow hallway which appeared wider than it was due to the overhead light and floor runner. “I’m finally in your place.” When she turned around, Tate stared at her with incontestable desire.

“Yeah.” He shut the door with his foot. “You’re in my place.” He stood wide-legged, eyes downward with a smirk.

“Uh.” She turned, rubbing the glossy, white wall. “Nice house.” She glanced above at the clerestory windows. “Beautiful architecture.” She smiled at him, mouth trembling.

“It’s just a house.” He took off the gloves and threw them on the floor.

“Give me a tour?” She dropped her stare and pushed her hair behind her ears.

“Sure.” He stood so close his chest bumped hers. “What would you like to see?”

“Anything.”

“Okay, why don’t we start with the living room?” He pointed to the hall. “Right this way.”

“Okay.”

As Kayla turned to leave, Tate picked her up and slammed her against the wall. The entire weight of his body pinning her, he gave a painful kiss on her lips.

She pushed him off, not due to lack of pleasure but to breathe. “Tate?”

“What?” He grind his middle against hers.

“Oh god, you’re hard.”

“Yes, I am.” He gave another forceful kiss, this time softer but just as earth shattering as the first. “You want this right?” he said between kisses. “Tell me.”

She sucked his chin and then traced her lips across his sweaty neck. “What do you think?”

He grabbed her neck, jerking her head back. “You want me to fuck you?”

She shivered, wondering what she’d gotten herself into but would risk death for it not to stop. “Yes.”

“When I was lifting weights…” He bounced her as if he were bench-pressing. “I got so worked up imagining you riding me.”

“Funny.” She plunged her fingers into his arm muscles. “My heart’s racing like I’m the one who’s been exercising.”

“Get ready to break a sweat, Kayla.” He pushed up her dress, knocking her off balance.

“Oh.” She giggled.

“What?” He tugged her underwear down.

“Sex against the wall is another thing I’ve never done.”

Tate grabbed her wrists with one hand and held them above her, deterring her body from moving. He undid the small buttons of her dress with his teeth.

Kayla’s hole seeped as if she’d peed on herself.

Still holding her arms in place, Tate wrestled with his sweatpants and underwear, pulling them to his knees.

Kayla glanced at his reddish cock, a sensitive tickle overtaking her clit.

Tate moaned as he pushed his nose into her chest, kissing her breast.

“Yes.” Eyes closed, Kayla moved with his body, pleasure erupting within her.

Tate suckled her brown nipple, the sensitive pellet dancing on his tongue.

“You got me so wet,” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

He switched to the other breast and sucked while massaging the opposite one with his free hand.

Kayla gyrated, pressing against him for the desperation to relieve the burn of arousal.

“I love it.” She giggled as the tingle in her belly button flowed to her crotch.

They exchanged ravenous kisses, and Kayla wondered if standing up made her extra horny.

She rubbed her c-spot against him, clenching her thighs.

“Oh,” he growled as if he’d come.

She straddled him, forcing him to bend his knees and then lowered her body on his.

“You up for this adventure?” He grinned.

She wrapped her arms tighter around his shoulders. “Are you?”

He gripped her ass as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

She tried to straighten herself to get more comfortable, but it wasn’t a choice, making the moment more exciting.

He entered her, moaning as they rocked back and forth.

She held onto him, bouncing.

Tate grunted, the muscles of his chests expanding with each thrust.

“Yes,” Kayla shouted, toes pointing downward in her sandals.

He closed his eyes and groaned louder, sweat trickling from his face and onto her breasts.

She felt guilty at having him do all the work.

He pumped. “You like it?”

“You have to ask?” She gave him a voracious kiss. “Turn me around. I wanna try it that way.”

He smiled and flung her around. “Like this?”

“Yes.” She pressed her hands on the wall. “Fuck me. Hard.”

He widened her ass cheeks and inched inside her, this position making Kayla’s nerves do somersaults.

She pushed on the wall as he pumped, using her tiptoes to balance herself.

He yanked the strap of her dress down, nibbling on her shoulder.

“Yes.” Her head tapped the wall as his dick sunk deeper inside her fluid canal.

He exhaled, breath smelling of cinnamon and sugar. “You’re so wet.” He bit her ear.

“Don’t stop.” She rubbed her clit, the thunderstorm in her pelvis brewing into a category five hurricane. “Oh!”

He rammed his pelvic muscles against her ass, her pussy swelling into a blooming orgasm.

“Yes!” She reached back as his body urged her to climax.

“Ooh.” Tate fell against her, holding her shoulder.

“Ah!” Kayla clenched as the dam broke, forcing a throaty scream that shook the walls. “Oh.” She lay her limp body against the wall, wheezing. “Now, you gonna show me the living room?”

He laughed as he kissed her shoulder. “Sure.”

Chapter 15

“I’ve never seen a guy with a house so neat.” Kayla followed Tate into his living room after the tour. “You should see my place. Clutter everywhere.”

“Really?” He took her hand as they sat on the sky-blue couch that added vibrancy to the off-white walls and gray carpeting. “You seem so neat and put together so I assumed your home was the same.”

She crossed her legs. “I’m not a slob, but I have pack rat tendencies.”

He laughed. “I’d love to help you out that habit.” He pinched her nose. “Are we going to talk about it or pretend it didn’t happen?”

“You mean the hallway?” She dropped her head, grinning. “What is there to say?”

A wary smile graced his lips. “Can we be more than fuck buddies?”

She stroked his hair. “I hate you feel that’s all we are.”

“I’ve told you what I want.” He pulled her into his lap. “What are you so afraid of?”

“I’m not afraid.” She pinched his shoulder. “I don’t want to get hooked on you and then we can’t have a relationship.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The long distance thing.” She straightened herself on his lap, him hardening beneath her. “We can say it will work, but you’ll be here and I’ll be in Florida. At first we’ll contact each other a million times a day and then it’ll slow down until life or work takes over and we have no time for each other.” She touched his chin. “We deserve more than that, Tate. If we’re gonna do this, I want it to work.”

“Distance has nothing to do with the relationship working. No matter what we have to put the work in and I’m willing to do that.” He kissed her cheek.

“I wish I could stay here with you forever.” She laid her forehead against his. “But, I’ll have to go home.”

“Your body will be in Florida but your heart will be with me.” He grasped her face, his tongue teasing her until she accepted his moist kiss. “I’m in love with you, Kayla.”

She rewound his words in her head. “I’m in love with you too.”

“We can make this work.” He pressed his soft lips to her hand. “If we try.”

She squeezed his muscular breast. “I’d like to try.”

He gave her another remarkable kiss when the doorbell rang followed by thunderous knocking.

“What the hell?” He moved Kayla off his lap and stood. “Why is someone banging on the door like that?”

Kayla wiped Tate’s saliva from her mouth.

“Better not be Jewel.” He hurried to the hallway, checked the peephole and answered the door.

“Are you Mr. Tate O’Keefe?” a man with a stern Jamaican accent said.

Kayla couldn’t see the man but his voice hinted to a powerful presence.

“I’m Tate.”

A tall, stiff-faced Jamaican wearing a white shirt and black peaked cap with a red band around it stepped through the door.

“Mr. O’Keefe,” the officer said. “You are needed at the police station.”

He fidgeted, glancing at Kayla. “What is this about?”

“Inspector Wright wishes to discuss a matter with you.” The officer kept his thumbs in the waist of his pants. “There have been some new developments in the Kirby Atkins case.”

“Kirby?” Kayla jumped from the couch, getting both men’s attention. “What about him?”

“Ma’am.” The officer tipped his head when Kayla approached. “This does not involve you.”

“Kirby was my brother.” She stepped between the men. “You bet your ass it involves me.” She turned to Tate, grabbing him. “What is this about?”

He shrugged with wide eyes. “Maybe he needs more information about Kirby. I’ll do anything to help him.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Kayla asked.

Tate shifted his eyes left and right. “I hope so.”

“This is bullshit!” Tate jumped out the chair in Wright’s office. “You’re insane.”

Kayla covered her mouth, trying to make sense of the Inspector’s claims.

“You need to explain yourself,” Wright said. “We got an anonymous tip claiming you were at Kirby’s the night he was killed.”

“It’s not true.” Tate leaned on the desk. “I hadn’t spoken to Kirby since that morning and it was on the phone. I didn’t see him that night.” He held his arms out. “I already told you that.”

“The tip came from a witness who—”

“What witness?” Tate shouted. “You take the word of someone who just calls you out the blue? I already know it was Jewel Rider. She’s my ex-girlfriend. Did the caller have an Australian accent?”

Wright’s unyielding expression remained rigid. “The caller wanted to be anonymous for a reason.”

“Yeah, it was Jewel.” Tate nodded, sucking his lip. “She’s a fuckin’ lunatic trying to make my life hell because I don’t want anything to do with her.”

“Tate, calm down.” Kayla reached for him.

“Calm down nothing.” He plopped into the chair next to her. “Do I need a lawyer?”

“You’re not under arrest yet.”

“Yet? Go talk to Jewel and you’ll see. What about my alibi? I was on a tour the night Kirby was killed.”

“But, you can’t account for where you were that evening. We suspect Kirby was killed at night but when checking with the coroner again she says it could’ve been that evening.”

“No.” Tate flung his arms. “What the fuck does that got to do with me? Are you saying I killed Kirby? Based on some tip?”

“I told you you’re not under arrest but these are definite concerns.”

“Tate?”

“Kayla, I didn’t do this.” He shook her hand, forcing her eyes on him. “Jewel’s manipulating everything.”

Kayla hugged him.

“If you got nothing to hold me, then I’m leaving.”

“We’re just doing our jobs,” Wright said.

“Then stop chasing worthless tips from psychotic bitches.” Tate’s jaws flexed. “What do I have to do for you to leave me alone?”

“May we search your home for the weapon?” Wright asked Tate, glancing at Kayla. “We’ll get a warrant if we have to but since you claim to be innocent—”

“I am innocent,” Tate snarled.

“May we search your place then?” Wright stuck his chin in the air.

“Fine.” Tate held his palms out. “You won’t find a damn thing.”

“You mind waiting here while I dispatch officers to your place?” Wright picked up the phone. “You and Miss Atkins can sit in the lounge if you like.”

“Fine.” Tate grabbed Kayla by the arm and ushered her from the office. “Fuckin’ moron. He can’t find out who did this because he’s too busy harassing me.”

“You gotta prove Jewel was the tipper.” Kayla lowered her purse. “Her ass should be in jail for messing with an investigation.”

“It’s fine.” He scoffed, cheeks turning red. “If Wright wants to waste his time searching my place, let him.”

Chapter 16

An hour later, Tate and Kayla jumped from the couch in the lounge when Wright walked in with another officer.

Before Wright could speak, Tate interjected, “I would appreciate an apology and we can move on from this.”

“I won’t be apologizing for anything today.” Wright held his usual, deadpan expression. “You’re under arrest, Mr. O’Keefe. For murder.”

“What?” Kayla shrieked.

“Wait.” Tate blinked, quivering as if someone hit him. “That’s a good one, Inspector.” He laughed but Kayla could tell it wasn’t genuine. “I’m leaving now.”

The other officer blocked him.

“I’m serious,” Wright said. “We found a knife that fits the medical examiner’s evidence of the murder weapon. The medical examiner believes Kirby was stabbed by a knife close to the same length and width of the knife found in your bedroom closet.”

“You’re lying!” Tate lunged at Wright and the other officer held him. “You didn’t find shit.” He twisted and turned in the officer’s hold. “You’re trying to pin this on me so you can have an out.”

Wright called in another officer and directed her to bring the knife.

The female officer walked in holding a sack with a knife with a blade around 8 inches long and one and a half inch wide.

Kayla fell back on the couch. “Tate?”

Tate turned to her, pointing at the knife. “That’s not mine.”

“Then how did it get in your closet?” Wright asked.

“That’s not my knife,” Tate shouted. “Besides, you don’t even know if it’s the murder weapon.”

“We’ll test it of course, but anyone can see the blood on it.” Wright pointed to faint specks of blood on the blade. “Looks like someone tried to clean it but the funny thing about blood is it’s hard to get rid of.”

“I didn’t do this.” Tate grabbed Kayla’s arm. “Listen—”

“Let go of me.” She yanked free and stood. “What the fuck is going on, Tate?”

He exhaled, tears forming. “I can’t explain this.”

“Murder weapon or not why was there a knife in your bedroom?” she screamed. “A knife that matches the same knife my brother was killed with?”

“I didn’t do anything.” He shook her. “Look into my eyes. You know me, Kayla.”

“Do I?” She pushed him away. “You expect me to ignore this?” She pointed to the knife. “Give me once sensible explanation for why that knife was in your bedroom.”

He held a fist to his mouth while tears escaped.

“Oh god.” Kayla rocked, chuckling. “Did you kill my brother?”

“No.” He sobbed. “Kayla, I swear to God I didn’t do this.”

She shook her head, the emergence of tears tickling her eyes. “How can I be sure?”

“I care about you, Kayla.” He sniffled. “Please don’t buy into this.”

“All this was a game, wasn’t it? Were you seducing me to stick close so I wouldn’t find out the truth?”

“Come here.” He grabbed her, the male officer holding him back. “Think about your feelings for me. The times we’ve shared.”

She wiped tears. “I can’t look at you.”

“I didn’t do this.” He shook his hands out at her. “Kayla—”

“Get away.” She shoved his chest. “I made a big mistake trusting you.”

“Kayla, wait.” Tate begged. “Please. Kayla!”

She got her purse and ran out the room.

“How could I be such a fool?” Kayla sat on her hotel bed, scooting toward the headboard. “Something kept telling me things were too good to be true with Tate but I didn’t listen.” She cried into the tissue. “I saw what I wanted to see.”

Malissa rubbed Kayla’s leg. “You really think he did it?”

“They found the knife in his bedroom.” Kayla dabbed her nose. “And, he had no explanation.”

“They found a knife.” Malissa’s eyebrows wiggled. “They have to test it first to see if it was the murder weapon.”

“It’s too much of a coincidence that a knife matching the murder weapon, one that has blood on it mind you, was in his bedroom closet.”

“Tate doesn’t strike me as someone who’d let the police search his place if he had the weapon at his place.”

“How else can you explain it? What? Jewel is setting him up?” Kayla rolled her eyes. “Come on. It’s too far-fetched and how do I know he told me the truth about her in the first place? And, how would she get the murder weapon?”

Malissa shrugged. “Maybe she killed Kirby and is framing Tate.”

“That wouldn’t make any sense. He hid that my brother denied him for a loan and that they had a big fight.” She counted on her fingers. “His alibi is wonky and if this knife isn’t the murder weapon than what the fuck is it, Malissa?”

“If Tate did it, then he is a damn good actor. Anyone can tell he loved your brother.”

“People kill people they love all the time.” Kayla tossed the tissue on the bed. “Kirby’s death was a crime of passion. Just another thing that says Tate could’ve done it.”

“But did he?” Malissa winced. “What happens with him now?”

“He’s held in jail until he makes bail I guess.”

“You seem concerned.”

“Course I’m concerned, but I don’t wanna be.”

“What about the embassy? Do they get involved?”

“No. Tate became a Jamaican citizen over a year ago.” Kayla lay flat on the bed. “You know what’s fucked up?”

“What?” Malissa stood from the bed.

“That even now I want nothing more than to be in his arms.” She put her arms behind her head. “I’m pathetic, aren’t I?”

“No.” Malissa kissed Kayla’s forehead. “You’re human.”

Chapter 17

Kayla awoke the following morning to Tate knocking on her hotel door. She attempted to slam the door on him when he stuck his foot against it.

“I don’t wanna talk to you.” She pushed the door against his strength. “Leave or I’ll call hotel security.”

“Let me explain.” He forced the door wider. “You owe me that.”

She let go of the door. “I don’t owe you shit. How did you get out?”

“I made bail.” He stood over the threshold.

She sat on the bed with her back to him. “Just leave, Tate.”

He closed the door, holding onto the doorknob. “You know I’m innocent.”

“How?” She stood, turning around. “You hid you had a fight with Kirby and what might be the murder weapon was in your home.” She slapped the side of her thighs. “Would any sane person think you were innocent after that?”

“Yes.” He folded his arms. “If she cared she would.”

Her shoulders dropped. “Tate—”

“Think, Kayla.” He slapped his palms together. “Would I have let the police search my place if I knew I had the murder weapon? I was set up, and I gotta prove it before I end up in prison.”

She backed away from him, avoiding eye contact. “How?”

“I think Jewel killed Kirby.”

She exhaled, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Tate—”

“I mean it, Kayla.”

“Why in the world would Jewel kill my brother?”

“To get back at me.” He swung his hand. “She’s fucked up in the head.”

“That’s too unbelievable.” She walked to the round, oak table next to the window. “No one can be that nuts.”

“She knows she can’t have me so she’s become obsessed with getting revenge. Don’t you see?” He approached her, gawking. “She got into my place and stashed the knife and tipped off the cops.”

“This is crazy.”

“Jewel’s crazy.” He huffed and puffed.

“This is too much.” She sat at the table, sliding her hands across the smooth finish.

“My lawyer told me the police spoke to her and she denied it. I need proof she was at Kirby’s that night.”

“There wasn’t forced entry when Kirby was killed.” Kayla tapped the table. “Would he have let Jewel in?”

“Sure. He was still cool with her despite what happened between her and me.”

“I still can’t believe someone would be so twisted.”

“I hope I’m right.” He sweated. “Because if not I’m going down for this and I can’t let that happen. I’m going to Kirby’s to see if I can find something that proves Jewel’s the killer. Will you help me?”

“Tate—”

“When you first came, I offered you help.” He leaned over, laying his hand over hers. “Now I’m asking you to do the same. Do you want Jewel to get away with this if she did it?”

She stood, pulling her blouse. “No.”

“I promise if you want nothing to do with me after this, fine.” He touched her cheek. “But, help me prove I’m innocent.”

“How can we find something if the police didn’t?”

“We have to look until we do.” He pulled her into an embrace that made her want to sell her soul to help him. “I can’t afford to be wrong.”

A Jamaican woman with the most radiant dark skin stood outside Kayla’s hotel room when Malissa returned from swimming.

“May I help you?” Malissa dabbed her damp neck.

“Hello.” The woman smiled. “I’m looking for Miss Atkins.”

“She’s out. I can tell her you stopped by when she comes back.”

“I’m Sakina Henry.” She offered her hand in greeting. “I was her brother’s girlfriend.”

“Sakina?” Malissa shook her hand. “That’s a beautiful name. I’m Malissa DaSilva, Kayla’s friend from Florida.”

“Ah.” Sakina nodded, holding her purse strap to her shoulder.

“I came to help Kayla find out what happened to Kirby.”

“You came all the way from Florida just to help her?” Sakina’s eyebrows raised. “You must be a wonderful friend.”

Malissa waved the towel, shrugging. “I try to be. She’s always been there for me.”

“Please tell Kayla I stopped by.” Sakina passed Malissa on her way to the elevator. “She has my number.”

“Okay, but it could be hours before she gets back. She’s with Tate helping him clear his name.”

“Excuse me?” Sakina walked back. “What would Tate have to clear his name for?”

“He was arrested last night for Kirby’s murder. They found a knife they think was the weapon in his place.”

“What?” Sakina covered her mouth.

“He got a lawyer and made bail.” Malissa looked at her fingernails. “He and Kayla are trying to find evidence that someone is setting Tate up.”

“I’m confused.” Sakina tapped her cheek. “Why would someone set Tate up?”

“Apparently he has this crazy ex who won’t let go. He and Kayla went to Kirby’s to find something that might lead to the killer.”

Sakina pointed downward. “They’re at Kirby’s now?”

“Yep.”

Tate yanked another drawer full of papers from Kirby’s bedroom dresser and searched it. “You find anything?”

“No.” Kayla slapped sweat off her face as she stepped over clothes they’d hauled out the closet. “Please stop asking every five minutes.”

“Sorry.” He tossed papers out the drawer. “I doubt you’d be so patient if the shoe were on the other foot.”

She grabbed shoeboxes from the top shelf of the closest. “We’ve looked through tons of receipts, papers, bank statements, you name it.” She stepped away from the closet. “I don’t think there’s anything to find.”

“There’s gotta be.” Tate threw the drawer he’d been searching on the floor and grabbed the last one out the dresser. “Don’t you understand that my future is on the line if we find nothing?”

“I can’t imagine how scared you must be right now.” Kayla sat on the bed, looking through papers and notes she’d found in the end table. “You’d think with all this shit my brother kept we’d find something.”

Tate glanced at her out the corner of his eyes. “So, you believe I didn’t do it?”

“Would I be here if I didn’t?” She read an old grocery list. “My goodness. He kept grocery lists?” She shook her head. “I don’t remember my brother being this pack ratty.”

He grinned. “Guess it runs in the family.”

She smiled though she wanted the mood to stay serious.

He lay items from the drawer on the bed. “It’s funny how I’m in deep shit but you’re on my mind.”

“Why?” She looked at him.

“You’ll leave once this is over. I can’t lose you, Kayla.”

“Shouldn’t you be concentrating more on the possibility of going to prison than on me?”

“If you leave I might as well be in prison.” He shuffled papers on the bed. “Because that’s what being without you will feel like.”

“This is hard for me too. I don’t wanna leave you but what choice do I have?”

“You can move here.” He watched her, straight-faced.

“To Jamaica? And, just forget that I have a life in Florida?”

“You can have a life down here with me.”

“Tate, Jacksonville is my home. I love it the way you love Kingston.”

“But, isn’t us being together more important?” He laid more papers on the bed. “Wouldn’t you rather be happy with me here than in Jacksonville alone?”

“That’s so selfish.”

“What?”

“So, my home and my life is second to yours?”

“No.” He frowned. “Not at all.”

“You’re acting like it.” She stuffed papers back into the end table. “Why should I be the one to move and give up my life?”

“I’m not moving back to America, Kayla.” He scratched his hand. “It’ll be your final decision.”

“There’s no decision to make. I can’t just leave my home. What about my job?”

“You’re a freakin’ bartender.” He leaned over on his elbows, toward her. “Do you realize the money and tips you could make here? You could retire on what you’d make from tourists alone.”

“I like my home.” She closed the drawer. “I shouldn’t have to give that up. What about Malissa?”

“Fuck, Malissa.” He slid the drawer off the bed, papers flying. “I’m in love with you, woman. You say you love being around me and having adventures but you aren’t strong enough to take a chance.”

“On you?” She scoffed. “Yeah, maybe I’m not because there’s some tiny thing inside me that wonders if I can trust you.”

He rushed to her, and she stood. “You wouldn’t be here helping me if you didn’t.” He grabbed her. “Move to Kingston.”

“Tate.”

“I’m not letting you go.” He hugged her, stroking her hair. “I love you, Kayla.”

She closed her eyes, pressing her nose into his shoulder. “You’re making this so hard—”

“Good.” He pulled away from her. “I want to make it as unbearable as possible for you not to leave me.”

“Be careful what you wish for.” She rubbed the sides of her jeans. “You might not want me once you have me.”

“I’ll always want you.” He kissed her, hands roaming her backside. “At least think about it would you? Don’t close the door on what we could be.”

Sakina walked in.

Tate let Kayla go, forehead wrinkling. “What are you doing here?”

A sinister smile captured Sakina’s lips.

Chapter 18

“Sakina?” Tate repeated. “Why are you here?”

“How’s the search going?” She walked further into the room and stopped by the bed. “Did you find anything to clear your name, Tate?”

He swallowed. “Better question, how did you know we were here?”

“I stopped by Kayla’s hotel.” Sakina smiled at her. “Spoke to your lovely friend Malissa and she filled me in. Guess it was luck, huh?”

“What was luck?” Kayla held her breath, tugging on Tate’s shirt. “I don’t understand.”

“You’re not the only one,” Tate said.

“What can I say about you two?” Sakina grabbed papers off the bed. “Why couldn’t you leave things alone? This wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t come, Kayla.” She dropped the papers and ripped a gun from her pocket.

“Oh my god.” Kayla grabbed Tate’s arm.

“What the hell?” He panted. “Sakina?”

“Everything would’ve been fine if she’d stayed in Florida and if you’d minded your own business.”

“No.” Tate shook his head, exhaling. “God, don’t tell me you—”

“Sakina.” Kayla shivered. “Did you kill my brother?”

She squeezed the gun, darkness filling her eyes. “Yes, I did.”

Kayla dropped her head, consumed with mind-blowing shock.

“This can’t be true,” Tate said. “I’ve known you a long time. You loved Kirby, Sakina. You couldn’t have done this.”

“He was leaving me. The person who’d been there for him all this time.”

“No,” Kayla shouted through tears.

“You’re wrong, Sakina,” Tate said. “He loved you—”

“Bullshit.” She raised the gun. “He loved Liron and you knew it.”

He held up his hands. “I swear to god I didn’t know he was even gay.”

“Liar.” Sakina’s face twisted as Kayla lunged at her.

“Who do you think you are?” Kayla screamed.

“Whoa.” Tate held her back. “She has a gun, Kayla.”

“Fuck her gun!” Kayla swung a fist at Sakina but hit air. “She killed my brother!”

“Don’t act like you cared about Kirby,” Sakina spat. “You didn’t once call him or visit him in ten years. You didn’t even come to the funeral.”

“Go to hell.” Kayla grabbed at her but Tate kept her in place.

“Don’t you get it?” Sakina screamed. “I loved Kirby more than both of you. I was the one he could always depend on.”

“You framed me?” Tate squinted. “You put the knife in my bedroom closet?”

“I took the spare key you gave Kirby.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I made the anonymous call, everything. I knew you’d think it was Jewel with the way she’d been bothering you.”

“Why, Sakina?” He held his hands out to her, gaping. “What did I ever do but be nice to you?”

“It’s not personal.” She lifted her head. “You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kirby told me about the fight you had and how mad you were he didn’t get the loan. After I killed him, it seemed like the perfect motive for sending the police in your direction.”

“You sick bitch,” Kayla said.

Sakina sat on the bed. “I didn’t intend to kill him, but I snapped. Didn’t even realize what I was doing until it was over.”

“You gutted my brother like a fish.” Kayla grabbed Tate’s shoulder as he held her behind him. “How can you do that to someone you loved?”

“Because at that moment…” A tear settled on Sakina’s top lip. “I hated him more than I’d ever hated anyone. All I saw was everyone in my past who’d always hurt me.” She stood, slow. “I wanted Kirby to pay. I wanted them all to pay.” She aimed the gun past Tate and to Kayla. “You should’ve stayed in Jacksonville.”

“No!” Tate rushed toward Sakina, head butting her in the stomach.

She dropped the gun as Tate tackled her onto the bed.

Kayla grabbed the gun and held it on the two as they tussled. “Stop, Sakina!”

“No!” She rolled underneath Tate, scratching and clawing. “It can’t end like this. It can’t.” She wailed. “It can’t.”

“Call the police, Kayla.” Tate held Sakina’s arms to the bed.

Kayla got her cell phone out her pocket.

“Shoot me, Kayla.” Sakina kicked. “Shoot me!”

Kayla wheezed as she dialed the police.

“Shoot me!”

“No.” Tate forced Sakina still. “It’s over, Sakina.” He looked at Kayla. “It’s all over.”

Three Nights Later

“I can’t believe this is the last night we’ll spend together.” Tate slid from underneath Kayla after an hour and a half of the best lovemaking she’d ever had.

“It’s not the last night.” She relaxed beside him, tracing her finger along his sweaty chest. “We’ll have more nights together than you can ask for.”

“It’s not the same.” He played with her fingers, eyes watery.

“Don’t be sad.” She kissed him, inhaling his exotic scent one last time. “I’ll be back before you can miss me.”

He tucked his arm underneath his head. “How will I make it one day without you?”

“It’s killing me too.” She caressed his hair. “But, I can’t just walk away from my life.”

“Why not if it means starting a new life with me?” He sat up, facing her. “Come on, Kayla. Is Florida that great of a place to walk away from me?”

“I can’t stay.” She laid her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. “It’s not the right time, and we need to take it slow and do things right.” She moved away from him as a tear fell. “Then we’ll see.”

“See what?” He shook his leg under the cover.

“If moving here is a step I should take.”

“You mean it?” He threw his head back, howling.

“Jamaica is a wonderful place. It’s like a dream, and I’d love to live here.”

He sighed, taking her hand. “I’ll make you regret not staying.”

She laughed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “I already do.”

He kissed her nose. “I promise we’ll make it work, and you’ll be ready to move here in less than a month.”

She guffawed, climbing on top of him. “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“I am.” He pushed her hair behind her ears.

“When I came here all on my mind was finding out who killed Kirby.” She rubbed his breast. “I never expected I’d fall in love.”

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You admit it?”

“I fell in love with you the first day we met.”

“Since I fell for you before we met, that’s easy to understand.” He clasped her naked buttocks. “Do you have closure now that Kirby’s murder is solved?”

“I thought I would.” She propped her elbows on his chest. “I wanted so much to relieve the guilt I had for not being in his life. Finding out who killed him seemed to be the best way to do that. But, I still feel guilty.”

“I have an idea. Before you leave tomorrow why don’t we go by his grave? Maybe talking to him would bring closure.”

She grimaced. “What in the world would I say?”

“Anything you want. He’ll listen, Kayla. Trust me, he will.”

“Okay.” She smiled, tapping his chest.

He smiled.

“Man, I’ll miss being in these arms. And, the sex...” She waved, pretending she’d lost her breath. “Lord, if only I could bottle it up and take it with me.”

They laughed, rolling around on the bed.

“I told you, you’ll be back in these arms before you know it.” Tate ended up on top of her, his weight pushing her into the thick pillows. “Are you ready for new adventures?” He sucked her neck. “I have more in store.”

“Bring them on.” She hooked her legs around his waist, dissolving in his kisses. “I love you, Tate.”

He stopped kissing her and looked into her eyes. “I love you too.”

She caressed his damp face. “Promise me you’ll never stop showing me how much.”

“I promise.” He kissed her palm. “You’re mine now, Kayla. Whether you’re in Jamaica or Florida…you’re all mine.”

She lay back, smiling.

About the Author

Stacy-Deanne (Dee-Anne) is an award-winning author of sensual romantic suspense, contemporary romance, and women's fiction books. She's written Top 100 bestsellers, and her work has been praised and reviewed in USA Today numerously. She loves writing stories that focus on main characters who rarely get the spotlight such as characters with physical disabilities, mental illness, and terminal diseases.

Stacy is known for bringing versatile stories to her readers. With her you never know what you're gonna get, which separates Stacy's work from the pack. Stacy's books are full of passion, thrills, intriguing characters and so much emotion you can't get enough! If you want something different and unpredictable then definitely check out her work.

With Stacy every book is an adventure.

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A Major Affair

The Colonel’s Daughters quintet Novella 1.5

CJ Matthew

Major Edmund Quinn, WSO F-15E Strike Eagle

The dream mission: spend a week of leave snooping around a luxury Kauai resort, enjoying all the amenities, then report back to a skeptical investor.

DeAnna Drake, middle manager of a Waikiki resort

The nightmare mission: spend a week snooping around a luxury Kauai resort, enjoying all the amenities, then hijack their secrets for her employer.

Two novice corporate snoops who never expected to fall in love, or to discover that love changes everything.

A Major Affair is lovingly dedicated to two very dear friends:

DeAnna and Edmund Janowicz

Chapter 1

DeAnna Drake struggled to quell her jittery excitement and ease the tension gripping her neck, as she carefully observed the man across the desk. Mr. Martin, the hotel chain’s executive vice president, was a hospitality industry legend in Hawaii. Reputed to be an ace interviewer and negotiator, he dangled a bright key to her future. She flexed her fingers to relax her hands and softened her mouth into her brightest smile. The one normally reserved for VIP hotel guests.

After a quick check of his laptop, he studied her. “You have an outstanding work record, Ms. Drake. Haven’t seen such rapid advancement since I came up through the ranks.”

She swallowed a laugh. While she was a firm believer in destiny, in this case her rapid-fire promotions had been less about fate and more to do with her workaholic tendencies. Eight months ago, she’d been recruited for a middle management job at this Hawaiian hotel chain’s flagship facility on Waikiki. Since stepping off the plane, she’d worked torturous hours, clawed her way up the steep learning curve, and earned several small promotions.

Thank you, sir,” she said. “Your career is the model for staff orientation and management training.”

Talk about a once-in-a-life-time interview. A chance to fill the newly created management position at the hotel chain’s sister resort on Maui. Her months of grueling work here in Honolulu were about to pay off.

Without a trace of modesty, Mr. Martin dipped his head in acknowledgement. Confirming the stories were true, his unbridled ego and self-confidence were intact. She bit her bottom lip. Were the rumors of his ruthless business practices also fact?

Mr. Martin clicked his laptop closed. “I’ve created a new corporate position, executive operations manager, as part of a pilot program. Every component has been designed and developed by myself. Rubber stamped by the corporate president.” He jutted out his chin. She responded with a firm nod. Hoped she looked duly appreciative.

“Ms. Drake, you’re doing very well right here. Why transfer?”

Narrowing her eyes, she leaned forward, and met the vice president’s gaze. “I’ve learned a great deal working here at our flagship property. With no personal ties in Oahu, I see the promotion to Maui as a tremendous opportunity and the relocation as a plus. Most importantly, the chance to participate in a pilot program of yours, to be instrumental in its success, is the best kind of career challenge.”

Her instincts applauded. She’d be a bigger fish in a slightly smaller pond. And the topper? She’d be working with the best: Mr. Martin.

Those same instincts had served her well in her personal life. Eight months ago, she’d suspected her boyfriend was cheating. During a painful confrontation, her fears had proven to be correct. Her long-term relationship imploded, and she’d escaped to the job in Hawaii.

“Good answer,” Mr. Martin said, pulling her back to the moment. His smile vanished so fast, she blinked. “I’m definitely impressed,” he continued. “You appear to have the makings of a great upper-level manager.”

“Thank you, Mr.—”

“Before I make you an offer, there is a second requirement. Think of it as a working interview. The new job description will involve doing whatever it takes to assure your hotel is out-booking, out-performing every other comparable resort. The pilot program is located on Maui for a reason. Our property there posted a decline in census and revenue last quarter. This quarter appears to be following that trend.” His forehead creased and his mouth curled into a sneer.

“Unacceptable,” he announced. She opened her mouth to agree. He kept talking. “The new executive manager’s primary role will be to analyze each department, sort through all the data. Pinpoint the issues and implement necessary changes. Stop the trend. Turn it around.”

She saw something in his face and went with her intuition. “You’re questioning the accuracy of the data?”

“Perhaps.”

“Bad data would make it impossible to correctly evaluate which departments are performing at peak efficiency.”

“Excellent. My thoughts exactly. In fact, I’m confident some areas of the Maui resort are on target and others need attention. We require more accurate, more specific data.”

“Sir, I’m not a bean counter. We—”

“Don’t get ahead of me. I’m sending a team of experts to secretly and thoroughly reevaluate our Maui resort. However, I want different data from the selected property on Kauai.”

Wait. “You want me to snoop around our hotel in Kauai?”

“You’ll go to Kauai, but not to our property. I want you to spend a week or so at our biggest competitor, Fragrant Garden, booked in as a guest under a false name. You’ll pick up ideas, secure the names of their important vendors. Figure the profit margins. Especially on peripherals, like tours, rentals, surf and scuba lessons, weddings, and so on.”

Uh oh. Her palms started to sweat, inner alarms clanged. “You want me to be a corporate spy?”

“Corporate espionage is illegal.”

He hadn’t answered her question. “So, not espionage. I’ll be a secret shopper?”

“Precisely.” He gave her a white-toothed shark smile. “Are you ready to begin part two of the interview?”

Absolutely. Secret shopper she could do. Still, she had more questions. “I’ll be at the Fragrant Garden for a week?”

He nodded slowly. “Or longer. I’ll read your reports on Fragrant Garden. After one week, we’ll be in touch. If I have further questions, you’ll stay on for a full ten days. Or if I’m satisfied, you can relax. Take the remaining time as paid vacation. Or go directly to Maui. Start as the new executive manager. And we’ll begin implementing your improvement ideas at once.”

“To clarify, the data gathering on Kauai is a one-time assignment? It’s not in the executive manager’s job description, is it?”

“One time assignment.” Mr. Martin rose. “If you don’t have any more questions for me, I’ll need your decision within twenty-four hours—”

“One final question.” The week on Kauai would be a huge challenge. With the juicy reward at the end: promotion, new job, and new location. One last detail remained. She sat straighter in her seat. “Salary?”

His laugh sounded genuine. Pulling a business card from an inner pocket, he placed it on the desk, slid it across to her with the tip of his index finger.

She waited a beat, flipped the embossed card over. An amount had already been hand-written on the back. If she hadn’t braced herself, she’d have gasped aloud. The scrawled number, $100,000, stunned her. Visions of a car danced in her head. An apartment bigger than a closet. Face carefully blank, she casually dropped the card in her bag and stood.

“I don’t need additional time to consider.” Extending her hand, surprisingly steady, across the desk, she said, “I accept. I’m ready to begin the Kauai fact-gathering assignment immediately.”

“Terrific.” He gripped her hand and shook. “Congratulations, Ms. Drake. My people will need several days to set up your fake identity. Reservations, credit card, ID. Take the weekend off. You can fly to Kauai Sunday afternoon.” His hard eyes raked her hair and face. “You should consider starting your snooping-shopping with a day in the Fragrant Garden spa.”

He turned her hand in his, glanced down to her clear polish manicure. “Your expense account will cover a makeover, and a visit to the clothing boutiques. You need to look like you can afford to stay there. My assistant will email all the details along with your flight information.”

A spa day plus a new mini wardrobe? Goose bumps rose along her arms. “I won’t let you down, Mr. Martin.”

Major Edmund Quinn sat perched on a barstool in his favorite Goldsboro, North Carolina pub, nursing a lukewarm beer. Damn it. No need to rush home to an empty apartment. The minute he and pilot Steve Shorner, former drinking buddy, former boon companion, and now absentee roommate, had finished for the day, the smitten flyer took off like he’d hit the afterburner.

Quinn sipped the beer. His mouth twisted into a grimace. Frowning down into the glass, he gave a reluctant shrug. Awww, what the hell. His pal Steve was in love. Not simply lust, although he was that, too. No, the pilot had fallen hard. Poor bastard was down for the count.

Studying the faces around the pub, Quinn narrowed his eyes. If he wanted company, why not call one of the women he’d met last weekend?

Quinn’s phone buzzed. Or, maybe one of them was calling him. He tapped the screen. “Hello?”

“Eddie?”

Nobody called him Ed, Eddie or Edmund except his family. Sounded like his younger sister. He checked Caller ID: Olivia.

“Hey, peanut.” His evening perked up. “How are you?”

“I’m fine.” Uh oh. Clearly someone in his baby sister’s wide circle of family and friends wasn’t fine. “Did you get my email?” she persisted.

“Haven’t been home yet.” He braced himself. “What’s up?”

“I’m worried sick about DeAnna.”

“Who?” Quinn knew he’d made a mistake the instant the word left his mouth. There was a loud, exasperated huff through the phone.

“You know very well who. DeAnna. My sorority big sister at UNC? My bestie ever since. I told you. Eight months ago, she announced she had a job opportunity out of state. Then she disappeared off the face of the earth. Remember?”

“Sorry, Ollie. Yes, I recall her name and history.” He also recalled his baby sister’s tendency to exaggerate. “Is there a new development?”

“Her phone goes straight to voice mail. I used to get long chatty emails. Now I’m lucky to get a pitiful paragraph. I need to know exactly where she is. That she’s really and truly okay. You gave me your solemn promise you’d help.”

I did? “And I always keep my promises to you, don’t I?”

“Well, so far.”

Shit, was that a sniffle? “Ollie honey, tell me what you want me to do.”

“I’m pretty sure she’s in Hawaii. You need to help me find her.”

“Olivia. I will keep my promise. However, you need to remember I have a day job. It’s not as a private investigator.”

She giggled. “I know. You work in the back seat of an F-15. The best Weapons System Officer, WSO in the entire—”

His phone chimed with an incoming call. “Ollie. I’ve got to take this. Call you right back. Pinky swear.”

“Okay.”

He heaved a sigh of relief. What did Olivia think he could possibly do? Reading the new ID, his mouth spread into a grin. Frank Whitney, a fellow WSO stationed at Mountain Home AFB.

“Hey, Whitney, what’s up?”

“Quinn, my man. How much leave you got left? I need your help.”

“Where?”

“White sand beaches, beautiful women in string bikinis, and all the single malt scotch you can drink.”

“Damn. How many bodies are we burying?”

“Would you believe, it’s a favor for my old man?”

“That helps.”

“I need you to spend ten days in Hawaii with me. On a secret spy mission for Dad.”

“Are you punking me?”

“No joke. Piles of dollars at stake. Dear ole Pop has zero sense of humor when his money’s involved.”

“Got the leave. Listening.”

“The old man’s considering a huge investment. Needs to choose between two Hawaiian hotel chains. The one he doesn’t choose to rescue could be forced to close one of their island hotels. I’m rooting for Dad to resuscitate the one called Fragrant Gardens of Kauai Resort and Spa. So that’s where you and I are going.”

“The name’s a mouthful.”

“The other contender has a resort in deep trouble on Maui.”

“Doesn’t your dad employ minions for this shit, like pro spies?”

“Sure he does. They’ve already started looking at both locations. Haven’t been able to get much in the way of on-the-ground due diligence. While the books on both the hotel chains look straight, each has one location in financial trouble. To get the straight scoop, Dad decided to embed non-employees. Us. We’ll look around, help him determine which location to invest in.”

“Why put more money in either company? Especially since he knows each one has a resort going downhill?”

“Makes the shares cheaper. Which means more profit for the resort that does the recovering. Some changes and boom. Revenue soars.”

“It’s not the best time for me. Shorner just got back—”

“We heard. Seems Stevie-boy nailed the TDY, and I hear the Tokyo wedding reception rocked.”

So, the grapevine knew the details of his roommate’s temporary duty to Japan and the wedding that followed? Quinn signaled the barkeep for another beer. “When does your father want us there?”

“This weekend.”

Quinn groaned.

“Don’t forget,” Frank said, “beautiful women in bikinis. All expenses paid.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure, those beaches are crawling with—”

“Space-A to Hawaii is a nightmare. Expenses paid? You’re serious?”

“As a heart attack. Repeat: the old man doesn’t screw around. He’ll spring for airline tickets, room, food, drinks, and expenses. His staff even made up a stupid-man’s questionnaire. Fill in the fucking blanks.”

“I’m in. Thank him for me?”

“Will do. Just remember, for him, it’s all a tax deduction.”

Quinn was composing his mental to-do list when Olivia’s cell sent his call-back straight to voice mail. Damn it.

Chapter 2

By the time DeAnna reached the Hawaiian Air departure gate in Honolulu International she gave herself a mental high-five for checking her suitcase. One less distraction in the crowded terminal. Adjusting the strap to the laptop bag on her shoulder, she eyed the public waiting area.

For the last three nights, sleep had been elusive while she replayed the interview in her mind and planned how to maximize her time on Kauai. Punching her pillow and kicking the sheets to the floor, her excited anticipation cut into sleep time.

At dawn today, she’d finally called a halt to the speculative mental process. She knew what information to gather. It could all be obtained by asking the right questions. And by soaking up details and forming impressions. Until she had a firm itinerary, she couldn’t plan any further.

Right now, she desperately needed a quiet corner and a serious shot of 3 pm caffeine. In the travel documents, Mr. Martin’s assistant had included a pass to the airline’s VIP lounge. The spacious Plumeria Club was just upstairs from the departure gate.

Stepping inside the lounge, she took a long, slow breath. The tasteful décor and quiet were certainly conducive to relaxation. She ordered a large iced coffee, claimed a seat in the back of the main room, and opened her laptop.

DeAnna considered the past months. Her original decision to take the hospitality job in Honolulu had been spur of the moment. Just like agreeing to Mr. Martin’s working interview on Kauai. And both snap-judgements ran contrary to her previous, well-thought-out, life choices.

It was high-time she returned to her normal decision-making pattern. To adulting. She’d go to Kauai. Gather as much data as she could. After all, one of her managerial strong points was convincing hotel staff to confide in her. Then she’d take the promotion and begin banking a chunk of the big salary. Forget the larger apartment, forget the car.

Better to sock away money, give herself a security cushion. She was finished with rash decisions. Light-headed with relief, and possibly caffeine overload, she opened her email.

She’d restore the authentic DeAnna, and reconnect with her family and friends. Particularly the group she knew were genuinely worried about her. Since the move, she’d avoided explanations. Dodged the question: why had she suddenly put a big stretch of the Pacific Ocean and most of the continental United States between herself and them?

Family first. In the email to her brother, she confided, “Since running away from home, I’ve been living and working in Hawaii. This past week I had a great interview for a promotion with a re-location. Today I’m flying to another island for a week to ten days on a temp assignment. I’ll email again as soon as I know the outcome. I promise to let you know where I am once I settle. Give my love to everyone. Take care. I love you, DeAnna.”

She clicked Send. Then sent similar messages to the rest of her family.

Finishing off the coffee, she started an email to her bestie, Olivia. Fingers hovering over the keyboard, DeAnna’s memories of her senior year at UNC and the sorority washed over her. Newly elected as the chapter’s pledge chairwoman, she’d been on the lookout for the single legacy expected to rush that fall. She’d heaved a sigh of relief when lovely freshman, Olivia Quinn appeared at the Fall Pledge Tea. The entire chapter had been charmed by the vivacious young girl. DeAnna volunteered to be Olivia’s sorority big sister.

Refilling her tall coffee container, DeAnna grabbed a chocolate chip cookie and returned to her corner table. Then had to swallow a laugh as she recalled the rash of pledge class antics that semester. Olivia, her unique hazel-green eyes twinkling with mischief, quickly became the prime suspect. When DeAnna confronted her, the guilt written across the young face instantly gave her away. Most of the pledge pranks had been instigated by Olivia Quinn.

Finally, a desperate alum committee voted to hold DeAnna responsible. She could either rein-in the wild-child or suffer their wrath. Good times.

After DeAnna’s graduation, while Olivia finished college and started her career, letters and emails flew between them, fat and frequent. But all that dried up the day DeAnna moved to Hawaii. Since arriving here, the emails she’d sent to Olivia could best be described as skimpy.

In a way, the tables had turned. Now Olivia had her back. She was the one person who didn’t seem to blame DeAnna for her rash decision to move. She never gave up sending emails. Olivia turned out to be the one friend who never judged.

DeAnna wiped her chocolate tipped fingers on the napkin.

“Dear Ollie,” she typed, “Here comes the email you deserve, my super patient friend.” With a slight smile on her lips, she quickly tapped the flat keyboard, sharing a myriad of details. She wrote paragraphs about the hotel where she worked, describing the grounds, pools, and the beach. She shared the physical appearances and personality quirks of most of the hotel staff and a couple of the more interesting managers. Without revealing any names.

Then went on to confess the details of a date or two. Ended the epic email with several funny stories about resort guest mishaps.

At a good stopping point, DeAnna flexed her fingers. She’d save the whole interview, secret shopper assignment, possible island relocation until it was all settled.

“Here’s my new phone number.” Hesitating, she frowned at the blinking cursor. “Olivia, please don’t share the number with anyone else. Starting with you first, Bestie, I’ll be contacting old friends at my own pace. Just as soon as I get settled again, I swear, I’ll call you. I promise to spend half a paycheck on the phone bill so we can catch up.” She ended the email, sent it, and closed the laptop.

Before she moved to Hawaii, social media and email exchanges used to take up large parts of her day. Recalling Ollie’s bubbly personality, she reached another decision. As soon as she got moved, she’d invite Ollie for a visit.

Pressing the heel of her hand to her chest, she realized her heart ached.

The minute Quinn deplaned in Honolulu, his phone rang. He fished it out and read the Caller ID: Frank Whitney.

“Hey Frank? Where are you?”

“Aloha, buddy. I’m in the airport. Proceed to the Interisland Concourse. Hawaiian Air’s VIP club is on the third floor. Meet me there.”

“On my way.”

Quinn stepped inside the Plumeria Club, scanned the room. He spotted Frank sitting dead center at a small table with a full view of the door. He beckoned Quinn to join him.

Sliding his computer bag under the chair, Quinn shook hands and noticed the frown line between his friend’s brows. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s annoying, a screw-up. Dad messaged me. The Maui guys won’t be able to get on-site until mid-week. So, I need to go on to the Maui resort while you get started in Kauai.”

“It’s sounding less and less like a wingman mission.” He shrugged. “Better brief me. What else do I need to know?”

“The hotel business in Hawaii is cutthroat. Primary goal is to fill rooms and then persuade the guests, especially those on a package deal, to spend buckets of extra money. Apparently, it’s also essential to convince departing guests to leave rave reviews to fill more rooms.”

“People read those things?”

“Somebody does. I called Dad back. The man sounded like he was about to have a stroke. The Island Trip Advice Kauai website showed the closest competing resort to The Fragrant Garden has over 2600 reviews at 4.5 to 5 stars. To top it off, the Garden also lost out on some award, a Certificate of Excellence.”

“Horrors.”

“No joke. O’Luina Villa also beat us out in the review race. And the Garden dropped one slot in the latest 10 Best in Kauai when Marriott’s Waiohai Beach Club pulled ahead.”

“Okay buddy,” Quinn said, “Calm down. I’m on it. I realize now I was out of line reading up on Kauai’s tourist attractions. Clearly, I should have spent my time memorizing resorts and comparing amenities.”

Quinn forced his lips into a grim line, raised one hand. “WSO word of honor, I’m on target now. A couple hours on the Internet and I’ll be ready to fill out your Dad’s questionnaire, critique the staff, recommend the best way to ask for reviews. I already printed an island map so I can scout more of the competition.”

After sending Frank off to catch the next flight to Maui, Quinn gathered his computer bag and moved to a remote table to call Olivia. He glanced at the shapely, dark-haired woman sitting alone in the corner, and felt a twinge of déjà vu. Where had he seen that face?

Checking his watch, he confirmed the time difference in Greenville, South Carolina, before calling his younger sister.

“Hey, peanut. I’m in Hawaii. Before you pitch a fit, I’m here on business.”

“O my god, Eddie. Really? You and Steve got deployed to Hawaii?”

He couldn’t hold back a laugh. The gorgeous woman at the corner table looked up, startled. Trying to appear contrite, he shrugged and shot her an apologetic grin. Then lowered his voice. “No sweetie. I agreed to help out a friend. You remember Frank Whitney from Idaho?”

“No, how could I? You never introduce me to your friends.”

“Sure I do,” he insisted. Then hesitated. She had a point. By now, his and Ollie’s seven-year age difference didn’t mean much. But still, lots of his WSO and maintainer buddies and all pilots were off-limits…er, inappropriate for a little sister.

“Anyway,” he said, gesturing with his free hand. “Frank and I are…look, I’m in Honolulu, on the way to Kauai. My mission is to check out a hotel Frank’s dad wants to invest in.”

“Why do seriously undeserving people have all the luck?”

“What can I bring you?” It was his go-to peace offering.

“Something sparkly and disgustingly expensive.” His baby sister’s default response.

“Uhh...”

“Eddie, I just heard from DeAnna. This evening, literally minutes ago. Finally, she sent me a long, chatty email…along with her phone number. From Hawaii. She’s there, too.”

“That’s great. Now you don’t have to worry about her any more. If she’s communicating again it must mean whatever was wrong is fixed. It’s all over and your friend’s fine.”

“Not so fast. I’m still worried. Why’d she bolt in the first place? Don’t try to wiggle out of your promise, big brother. I’m holding you to your word. Either you call her today, or I’ll fly there myself. Track her down. I have just enough in my savings account to buy a last-minute airline ticket to Hawaii.”

“Damn it. Listen, Olivia Marie Quinn. Don’t you dare touch your savings. I’ll call her, I promise. But—”

“Great. She’s working at a fancy hotel and I’m sure it’s on Waikiki. You can go see her for yourself. Make sure she’s alright.”

“Peanut, I don’t have time to leave the airport. I’m not staying on Oahu.”

“Well, all right. Just call her from the airport. Eddie, she was my best friend at college and ever since. I haven’t had more than three-line emails from her in months.”

“What good will a call from me do?”

“It’ll let me know for sure she’s really all right.”

The silence was deafening. Olivia brought out the big guns.

“Hey big brother, guess where I am this very minute?” his sister purred. “At home.” She paused for the news to sink in. “Mom is downstairs. Shall I tell her you called me? That you’re on the phone right now?” Olivia threatened.

“Please, no.” Quinn repressed a shiver. He loved his mother, but in the past year her casual interest in his girlfriend status had morphed into an obsession. Did mothers with grown children, potential grandmothers, have their own biological clocks? The woman was insistent, had made it abundantly clear. As her firstborn, it was Quinn’s duty to marry ASAP. And produce grandchildren for her.

In theory, he had no objection to the plan. But so far, he hadn’t met the right woman. An air force wife was special. The service offered lots of shit to endure. Long deployments were only the tip of the iceberg.

Take his pilot buddy Steve, for example. He’d married the wrong woman his first time around. Quinn wanted to get it right. He needed to be sure.

“Give me the girl’s number,” he growled in defeat.

After Olivia hung up, he finished entering DeAnna’s contact info into his phone. Checked his watch. The departure gate was right downstairs. There was plenty of time to contact his sister’s young friend.

The shapely woman in the corner moved and caught his eye. Gathering her belongings, she rose, and crossed in front of him.

As she got close, a faint whiff of vanilla drifted through the air.

“Hi,” he said with a nod of greeting.

She slowed, glanced at him and smiled. “Hello.”

Getting a better look at her face, his breathing hitched. Close up, she was spectacular. Her lips were full, her eyes a smoky shade of blue. With her hair tucked into a loose knot at the back of her neck, there was no telling how long it was. As she moved, he noticed the shiny hair had several different shades of brown mixed in.

Dressed in a pantsuit, she filled out the bright blue sleeveless blouse and light-colored slacks with plenty of curves. A matching jacket draped over one arm, her laptop case slung over a shoulder, she was beautiful.

Wanting to fully appreciate the back-view, he waited to call DeAnna. As the woman strode across the floor, Quinn tapped the phone number. Bending forward so he wouldn’t miss anything, he heard the call connect.

Somewhere in the lounge, a phone rang. The business woman disappeared into the restroom. He listened to more ringing, no answer. Before he was dumped into voice mail, Quinn hung up. He’d try again when he reached Kauai.

Half an hour later, Quinn moved cautiously up the aisle of the commuter jet. On the lookout for stray arms and feet, he was almost to his bulkhead seat when a child darted across the aisle in front of him.

Stopping abruptly, he clipped the elbow of the passenger sitting on the right. Turning to apologize, he recognized the striking woman from the lounge. On the floor, scattered at her feet, were a handful of dropped brochures.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Let me get these for you.”

She rubbed her elbow while he retrieved an assortment of colorful tri-folds for Kauai resorts.

He handed them over. “Haven’t decided yet where you’re going to stay?”

“I have a reservation,” she said. “Just doing some comparing.”

Good idea. He’d get his own supply of brochures at the airport. “Are you going to Kauai on business?”

“Not really. I’m more of a tourist. You?”

“I’m here on leave.”

“Ah, you’re in the military.”

“That’s right. Why don’t we—”

“Sir, you need to take your seat.” The flight attendant standing in front of him sounded like she meant business. “We can’t take off until everyone is seated with their seatbelts fastened.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I’m going.” And tried his charming grin on her.

Unimpressed, the flight attendant formed her mouth into a cool smile. One that told Quinn, in no uncertain terms, obey-me-now-or-else.

Chapter 3

DeAnna only had to lean out a tiny bit to admire the handsome military guy’s excellent butt. Too soon her view was blocked by the flight attendant.

So far, no one claimed the window seat next to her, but she wouldn’t spread out until after take-off. Quickly reorganizing the brochures, she tucked them away.

Moments after the captain announced it was okay to use electronics, and turned off the seatbelt sign, she opened her laptop. A minute later, the military hunk appeared in the aisle beside her seat.

Bending toward her, his words tumbled out. “Rushing this. Before the flight attendant banishes me, again.”

She stared up. Into very familiar hazel-green eyes. The identical shade as Olivia’s, they twinkled with the same deviltry.

In the tight space, he extended his hand. “I’m Edmund Quinn. Everybody calls me Quinn. Could I buy you a cup of coffee?”

Oh my god. She managed not to gasp, barely, when he said his name. Olivia’s last name. Could this be Eddie, her best friend’s adored but elusive older brother? He too, was in the military, something to do with fighter planes. Was it the same man?

She vaguely remembered seeing a photo of a younger version on Ollie’s dresser in the sorority house. But during all the months of her senior year, she’d never crossed paths with the man.

Seriously, was Olivia Quinn’s big brother crouched expectantly beside her armrest, blocking the aisle, and urging her to “call me Quinn”?

She smiled back. “Sure. Coffee sounds nice.” She had to know for sure. “Let’s exchange phone numbers in baggage claim.” Glancing up she said, “You’d better go now, there’s a line forming behind you.”

Quinn shot a glance over one broad shoulder. “Hey, those guys are too late. I saw you first. Quick, tell me your name.”

“De…Dee,” she stuttered, searching for her alias. “As in Delores. Smith.”

“Excuse me,” a large man said from behind Quinn.

Chuckling, Quinn said, “Hello, De Dee Smith.” He grasped her hand, shook it. “See you at the airport.” In a quick move, his thumb caressed the back of her hand before he released it. Then he stood, and made his way toward the rear of the plane.

She touched the warm spot left by his finger. What were the odds that he was the same Edmund Quinn? A gentle smile curved up the corners of her lips. Whoever he was, he’d need to come back this way again to return to his seat.

Quinn passed her several more times during the three plus hour flight. He never fully stopped, didn’t speak. But each time he slipped a little gift onto her tray or into her lap. By the time the plane landed she had two fresh, fragrant Plumeria flowers, a dolphin keychain, three bags of pretzels, and a packet of cookies.

She spotted the top of his head above the crowd on the walk to baggage claim, but he didn’t approach her. Until they reached the luggage carousel.

“Hi Dee Smith. I’m at the Fragrant Garden Kauai Resort and Spa,” he said in a low voice. “Somebody needs to shorten these resort names. Any chance you’re staying someplace nearby?”

She smiled over her shoulder. “Most tourists shorten the name to Fragrant Garden. I’m staying there, too.”

“Outstanding. Let’s get our coffees, or a tropical cocktail at the hotel?”

“The bar will be noisy this time of night. Why don’t we meet on the sunrise lanai?”

The carousel started and pieces of luggage and golf bags began to appear. There. She spotted a large, soft sided blue suitcase that looked like a dozen others. But DeAnna could identify hers. When a group from the sorority drove to Myrtle Beach for spring break, Olivia tied red, white and blue ribbons on the handles of both their suitcases.

Quinn stepped up beside her and grabbed her bag.

“Thanks.” She closed her hand over his. “I’ve got it.”

“This one’s mine,” he said.

“Lots of suitcases look alike. This time I’m positive.”

“Me, too. I recognize the ribbon. My little sister tagged every piece of luggage I own. For just this reason.”

She bit the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing. Another clue. Olivia would love this. “I did the same thing to my luggage.”

He stared at her.

“Look.” An identical bag chugged past, festooned with identical ribbon. “I’ll be damned,” Quinn said under his breath and lunged for the suitcase. “This is like destiny or something.”

Now it was her turn to stare. Destiny, huh? She gave herself a little shake. How was she going to handle this chance meeting? Mr. Martin expected her to remain incognito during her entire time at the resort. All her reservations were in the Smith name.

“That one’s mine.” DeAnna indicated the first suitcase. “With the little lock.”

“I’ve got a rental car reserved.” He deftly removed their luggage from the crowd clustered around the carousel. “Can I give you a lift?”

“No thanks, I need to take the shuttle.”

One of his brows arched in a silent question, his sexy green-ish eyes twinkling.

“I’ll explain when we meet for the drink.”

“See you soon.”

She began a hotel critique the minute she climbed into the shuttle. The interior needed a once-over and the driver sat while she lugged her bags aboard. Sitting in the first seat, directly behind the driver, she spoke in a confiding whisper. “It’s my first trip here. Can you recommend a good place to shop?”

He smiled and pulled a card from the pocket of his flowered shirt, handing it to her. “This place. A short cab ride from hotel. Show my card, big discount.” Undoubtedly, he’d get a percentage of whatever she spent.

“My goodness,” she gushed. She kept her voice soft as the shuttle filled. “You’ve got the most exciting job. Meeting all these new people.” She leaned closer. “And you get a discount at a famous resort?”

In the fifteen-minute ride, she learned the shuttle service was contracted. The driver didn’t get any discounts. He was underpaid and indicated he’d love to become a direct employee of the resort corporation. She compressed her lips. No doubt the additional expense would be offset by his improved customer service.

At the front desk, extra registration staff, timed to match the airline arrivals, kept the lines short and moving. She checked in, and received a Fragrant Garden welcome packet along with her keycard.

“Your suite is on the top floor,” the clerk explained. “Swipe the keycard in any of the elevators to access your floor.”

Stepping away from the desk, she saw a bell-person waiting with her suitcase.

“Aloha,” he said. “I’ll meet you upstairs.”

“You use service elevators for the luggage carts?”

“Yes. May I take your laptop bag?”

“No, I’m fine.”

By the time she’d grilled and tipped the talkative bellhop, her throat was parched. In the spacious bedroom, she stripped down to her panties. Considered a shower but decided she didn’t want to deal with her hair. What she wanted was a long drink of cold water.

The kitchen was tucked between the living room and dining area. She reached into the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water when she heard the main door click and unlock.

With a squeak of surprise, she dropped the water, and ducked behind the living room drapes. Footsteps clumped on the tile entry.

DeAnna clutched the material to cover her body and shouted, “You’re in the wrong room. This is my room. Get out.”

Shoes scuffled. She peered around the edge of the fabric. A tall figure was backing out the door, sputtering: “Sorry. I’m going. Sorry.”

The minute the door clicked closed, DeAnna darted into the bedroom, slipped on a thick terry robe. Covered chin to ankles, she hurried across the living room to slide the chain lock in place.

A knock on the door’s wooden panel made her jump back.

After a deep breath, she opened the door, as far as the chain would allow.

Quinn stood in the hallway, his bag and a carry-on at his feet. “Ms. Smith? I apologize if I frightened you.”

“Oh, it’s you. How on Earth did you get in? This is my room.”

He ducked his head, saying, “Front desk seems to think this suite is mine. They gave me a key.” The corners of his expressive mouth twitched as he held up the keycard.

Chapter 4

Quinn angled his head to get a better look at Dee’s face. “Wonder if stuff like this happens often around here?” he mused.

She tightened the terrycloth tie around her waist. “No clue.” Frowning, she stuck her open palm through the narrow door opening. “Let’s see your key.”

He placed it in her hand. “There’s no room number on these. But it worked the door lock.” He bent to his suitcase, and opened the welcome packet balanced on it. “They wrote the number on the cardboard jacket.” He produced that, handed it to her.

Fingering both, she murmured, “This goes to the top of my list.”

Mine, too. “What list?”

“I’ll explain later. You should go now.” She handed the card and envelope back. “Find your real room.”

“I’m in no hurry.”

She frowned.

Maybe he’d better change tactics. “Could I use your phone? Call down to the registration desk. Get this settled.”

The faint frown lines crossing her forehead melted away and her kissable lips curved into an engaging smile. “There’s a butler on this floor. You’ll find her desk at the end of the hallway.” She pointed a finger.

He raised an eyebrow.

“We’ll talk later.” She waved her hand in a shoo motion. “Now go away so I can change.”

“You’re still meeting me in the sunset lanai? Half an hour?”

“Forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll be there.”

Quinn arrived early. The lanai turned out to be a huge covered deck overlooking a torch lit garden. By the sound of the surf, it was just steps away from the Pacific Ocean.

A server approached as he sat down. “I’ll wait to order until the lady gets here,” he said. “Could you come back in ten minutes?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“Wait. Can I order hors d’oeuvres now? Have them delivered when she arrives?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s a pu pu platter?”

“A sampler of cooked meat and seafood.”

“Sounds great. One of those. And drinks with umbrellas and fruit?”

“Here’s the illustrated drink card. When your lady arrives, I’ll serve the pu pu and take your drink orders.”

“Excellent. Thanks.”

Quinn surveyed the area and changed seats so he could watch the door. He couldn’t remember the last time he was this attracted to a woman. He wanted to know everything about her.

Dee arrived right on time. Pausing in the doorway, she spotted him, smiled and moved forward. He stood, heart thudding in his chest. As she got close, he had to fight the urge to take her in his arms. Too soon. Instead he grasped both her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. Lord, she was beautiful. Her hair shimmered in the candlelight. Her skin glow—

“Quinn? Are you okay?”

What? Damn it. Squelching his inner poet, one he had no clue even existed, he focused on Dee’s mouth and the words she was saying. “Maybe we should sit?”

“Wait,” he said. “Let me shift the chairs. There. Now we can both enjoy the view.”

She settled into the rattan seat and scanned the garden. Sinking into his chair, he still couldn’t take his eyes off her. His view was close to perfect.

With smooth efficiency, the server moved the candle to one side, placed the sizzling tray between them. Smiling at Dee, she asked, “Do you need a minute to decide on a drink?”

“I’m ready.” Dee returned a friendly smile. “Will you make me a coconut mojito?”

He reached for the drink card. “What does that have in it?”

The server shook her head. “You won’t find it on the menu. Our bartender loves making them. Like a Cuban mojito, ours has rum, lime juice, and mint. Then we use coconut cream for sweetness, and Kai Coconut Shochu.”

“Make it two,” he said. “And load us up with flowers, umbrellas, and fruit.”

Dee and the server laughed together. “My pleasure. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“This is so thoughtful, Quinn,” Dee said, indicating the food. “I love pu pu.”

“Softening you up so you’ll talk. Tell me all about you. Where do you live?”

“In Hawaii, on Oahu.”

“You’re taking a tourist vacation to Kauai?”

“Not exactly. May I please start this part over?”

“Sure.” He leaned closer.

“I moved to Hawaii last fall to take a position at a Waikiki resort hotel. Currently, I’m up for a promotion that’ll involve an island transfer.”

“Congratulations.”

Pink flushed her cheeks. “Thanks. Meanwhile, I’m here to look around.” She lowered her voice. “Registered under a different name.”

“Smith?”

“Yes. For the week, I’m Dee Smith. Sorry I can’t tell you more.”

“No sweat, Dee.” He sipped his drink. Their assignments could easily overlap. “What kind of stuff will you be looking at?”

“I’m spending the coming week checking out stuff from a guest’s point of view. Like how well the resort staff interacts, evaluating the sports activities, and the tours.”

“I hear the hotel business in Hawaii is brutally competitive.”

“It is.” She stroked the tiny orchid petals from her drink. When Dee looked up at him again, his heart stuttered in his chest. “You’re here on military leave?”

Heat worked its way up his neck and spread across his cheeks. “I sort of told a lie of omission. I am here on leave, but also I’m doing a favor for…um—”

“Quinn.” She placed her hand over his. “Only tell me what you can. Just please, let’s both make a promise? From now on, while it may not the whole truth, still, we tell each other nothing but the truth.”

“Good. Right. Let me start over. I’m Edmund Quinn, air force major. F-15 Strike Eagle Weapons System Officer. Stationed at Seymour Johnson AFB, North Carolina. A few days ago, Frank, a WSO friend asked me to check-out the Fragrant Garden resort. To look around, critique stuff from a tourist’s viewpoint. At the last minute, Frank had to go to Maui and I came here alone.”

“Is there more? Details you need to keep confidential?”

“Not from my point of view. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open, take a few notes, turn them in. Where my opinions go from there is out of my hands, none of my business.”

“Good.”

“Last year, what made you decide to move to Hawaii?”

“Umm…the job offer I received was very tempting, then a bad break up sealed the deal.” She fiddled with her little paper umbrella.

Warm empathy filled his chest. Opening up to a relative stranger was tough. Especially on a first date.

Dee returned his gaze. “Everything happened so fast, on the same day. The ex and I broke it off, I skipped the pint of Haagen-Dazs rocky road and packed for Hawaii instead. My friends and family still think I’m crazy. And maybe a coward.”

She gave him a penetrating look. “Heard enough? Can we do without the messy details for now?”

He rubbed his fingertips along his jaw. “Maybe they simply didn’t understand. Is it possible a sudden move to Hawaii, such a spur of the moment decision, was out of character for you?”

Her eyes grew round and she sucked in a breath. “Are you a part-time mind reader?”

“Not at all. You seem steady and organized. My guess is, after breaking up with the idiot ex, for once, you made a snap decision. Fresh start. Take the new job in paradise.”

She gave a faint nod.

On a roll, he crossed his fingers under the table. “Is there a current guy?”

“No,” she whispered.

The knot in his chest loosened.

“My turn,” she said in a firmer voice and lifted her chin. “Is there a girlfriend…or anything, waiting at home?”

Keeping his face serious, he met her gaze. Held it. “No one. No wife, no fiancé, no girlfriend.”

She nodded.

Giddy relief bubbled through him. This was incredible. They’d just exchanged critical information. Gotten past several possible roadblocks. And so early in their relationship.

Whoa. Slow down. Since when was a first date a relationship? They’d only known each other a matter of hours.

He watched her pick up a small piece of fruit. When she placed it in her mouth, he had to stifle a groan. One thing for sure, he didn’t want the night to end.

When the pu pu platter was picked clean, their drink glasses empty, he plucked the largest orchid from his stash, and wiped the stem. Leaning close to Dee, he whispered, “Aloha.” He slid the delicate flower behind her ear. Kissed her on both cheeks

“Mahalo,” she whispered back. “Thank you.”

He sucked in a deep breath. “I’d like to see you again.”

She seemed to consider the question. “Like a second date?”

“Exactly. A southern gentleman never presumes a good-night kiss on the first date.”

“Ah, but at the end of the second date?”

He extended his hand and she automatically shook it. “Good night, Dee Smith. Thank you for the date. I had a great time. Hope we can do this again, real soon.”

“Good night, Major.” She burst out laughing. “Quinn, aren’t you going to walk me to my door?”

“Not yet. I’m asking you to take a walk with me on the beach. I’ve been on my ass since early this morning. I’m seriously tired of sitting.”

“A romantic stroll in the sand. Would that be like a second date?”

“Absolutely. It certainly qualifies as number two. Shall we go?”

“You get us each a Mai Tai in to-go containers, while I check my phone. Then let’s see if our server will stow these killer shoes and my bag.”

“I wouldn’t mind carrying the shoes and purse.”

“Ah, a true gentleman.”

“You bet

Chapter 5

DeAnna ducked into the restroom to check for any neglected messages in private. Before the door closed behind her, her phone chimed with a missed call from her newest contact: Quinn. She stared. He must have accidently pocket-dialed her from right outside.

She deleted the notice and moved on to email. She opened a long one from Mr. Martin’s assistant, with a confirmation for the Garden Resort’s Luau later in the week. The accompanying paragraphs noted that hundreds of resort reviewers mentioned the themed dinner show as the highlight of their stay at Fragrant Garden. In particular, honeymooners. She couldn’t wait to find out why.

When she returned, Quinn stood beside their table, studying his phone.

“It occurred to me,” he said, looking up with a smile, “if you want to bring your phone or wallet, I could carry those for you.”

“Thanks, Sir Raleigh, I’ve decided to leave it all at the front desk.” The man was thoughtful. Just one of his many sterling qualities, if you believed Olivia, who bragged about him constantly. Her best friend had a big-brother-crush.

Why hadn’t she met Quinn during her senior year? She started remembering details. He and his roommate pilot had attended a war games deal for two weeks in Las Vegas. Not long after that, they’d deployed.

She had to give Major Quinn kudos for his service and the tough, dangerous job he continued to do. How much would he share? Particularly if she asked him about the deployments? Maybe when they knew each other better.

Outside, the surf was louder, the breeze stronger. Stepping off the path onto the sandy beach, she tucked her arm through Quinn’s. Just before they reached the water line she stopped, breathed in a lung-full of salty air. The tangy aroma of the ocean in front of them mixed with the sweet scents of the garden behind.

“Which way?” Quinn asked.

“If I get us lost, can you find the way back?”

“Sure can.”

She pointed and they headed away from the lights of the resort. After a few steps, they’d adjusted their strides and walked smoothly side by side.

“Tell me about the Strike Eagles,” she asked. “Are there lots of them at your base?”

“Yep, four squadrons.”

She listened as he described the flight-line, the maintainers, and his part in the sorties. Excitement slid into Quinn’s words. He obviously loved what he did. While she listened, another part of her soaked up the deep timbre of his voice. Everything about the man was sexy. He was temptation on two feet.

When he asked about her job on Waikiki, she gave him the bare bones. As she spoke, she realized that like Quinn, she was willing to work her butt off because she loved the work. In the companionable silence that followed, she considered. There were two aspects of the hotel industry she especially loved. Managing the staff and helping unhappy guests resolve their issues.

To hear him laugh, she told him several anecdotes that featured the crazed actions of tourists. Then they were quiet again.

Without breaking stride, Quinn linked his fingers with hers. “Your decision to come to Oahu may have been sudden, but when you talk about your work there, it sounds like you made a good decision, a good move.”

“I agree. But the decision was made on impulse.” She tightened her grip on his hand. “Tell the truth. Have you ever been tempted to chuck it all and run away?”

“Not really.” He appeared deep in thought. “I’ve had bad days. In the last deployment, I had a couple of bad weeks.”

She remained silent. Waited.

“I love to fly. The airmen in our squadron are closer than most families. I’m working for my country. Imagine, they trust me and a pilot with an extremely expensive toy. And the team, maintainers, pilot, the Strike Eagle and me, we make a difference. We can shoot the bad guys out of the sky, or take ‘em out on the ground. Call in an airstrike and we’ll do our damned-est to clear the way for the troops on the ground.”

Olivia’s words whispered in her head. “My brother Eddie is up there with Steve protecting all our nineteen-year-olds on the ground with guns.”

She took in a deep breath. “May I say how proud I am of you?”

“It’s my job.”

Quinn didn’t have a dishonorable bone in his body. He seemed to be a man who cherished the truth. She was here undercover, using a fake identity. While nothing she planned to do was illegal, or unethical, she was misleading him. Better start keeping her distance. Before things got any more complicated. She kicked at a seashell. That resolution would get easier tomorrow, when her busy schedule kicked in.

They made the turn and retraced their steps back to the Garden Resort. As the lights of the hotel’s torch-lit garden got closer, her footsteps slowed. Her second and last date with Quinn was almost at an end. At the hotel, they’d part for the night. Possibly forever.

Quinn seemed to read her mood. Stopping, he gently grasped her arms, turned her to face him. As he looked deep into her eyes, her breath caught in her lungs.

“We should have our first kiss,” he whispered, “out here in the moonlight, instead of in a hotel hallway.”

Her chest ached. “What a nice idea.”

Moving in slow motion, he leaned closer. His warm hands slid up her arms, across her shoulders until he cupped each side of her face. Angling her head to the position he wanted, Quinn slowly, carefully, pressed his lips to hers. Her heart stopped.

As warmth flooded her, DeAnna swayed forward. Moving into Quinn. Her thighs, her breasts, her lips all pressed into him. He was rock-solid strength, with soft firm lips. She moaned. Lord, the man was a great kisser.

Quinn sent one hand to the nape of her neck. His other arm circled her waist and tugged her closer. They were plastered against each other.

His tongue stroked along her bottom lip. She opened to him and their tongues met and danced. The onslaught of sensations was overwhelming, every inch of her responded.

A burst of raucous laughter sounded close by. Quinn pulled away and partially turned. Shielding her with his body.

As the noise drifted away, he turned back, pressed his forehead to hers. “Guess we’d better get moving,” he murmured.

When she shivered, he asked, “Are you cold?”

Taking his hand, she smiled. “The opposite.”

“Good. Me, too.” He squeezed her hand and started them moving forward. “Let’s talk about tomorrow morning. I’m scheduled for an early tee time. Do you play golf?”

“Not at all.” Tell him you can’t see him again.

“Since I never practice,” he said, “my game sucks. Here on the resort course, carts are required. If we go together, we could pretend to play. Maybe get lost in the rough?”

She laughed. Then bit her lip to squelch the humor. “I’m sorry, Quinn. I can’t. Please remember, I have work obligations, a schedule to keep. Tomorrow, I’ve got an early appointment followed by a full morning at the spa. You need to go ahead and play your round of golf.”

“Since you don’t play golf and I have no intention of stepping foot in the spa, it’s a damn shame we can’t exchange notes.”

“You know we can’t do that.”

“I know, but it’s also a terrific excuse to meet for lunch.”

“And if I did agree to eat with you?” She poked a finger at him. “You’d share your evaluation of the golf course?”

“Tempting, but no. You were right the first time. Unethical. I’ll email my comments to Frank, and burn the originals.” He captured her hand, brought it to his mouth. Kissed her fingers. “Have lunch with me?”

She gently but firmly pulled her hand away. “Don’t push me on a personal level, Quinn. I can’t start something…I can’t afford to play around this week.” She tried to read his expression in the dim light.

“Message received loud and clear. Hey, I respect that, Dee, and I respect you. Let me walk you to your door. Starting tomorrow, we’ll leave everything up to fate.”

Despite a night of sensual dreams, ones featuring a shadowy man in a flight suit and then the same man in only his birthday suit, DeAnna woke well before dawn. She braided her hair and pulled on her running clothes and shoes.

The resort advertised a variety of lighted jogging paths threaded through different gardens. A solitary run, just the thing to clear her mind. She completed her stretches in the suite, then grabbed the reusable water bottle and a towel. When she reached the closest starting point on her route, she was startled to find Quinn there, down on one knee, tying a shoelace.

He looked up, a cocky smile lighting up his handsome face. “Hey, are you following me?”

She sighed. How had he arranged this? “Would it do me any good to deny it?” she teased. He looked delicious and her stomach knotted.

“No. Let me cling to my fantasy.”

“Yeah, like your ego needs an assist.”

“Good morning to you, too.” He turned all business. “The plan is to jog four miles through the garden routes then onto the beach. About a mile into the beach path, there’s a place to stop.” He checked his fancy wrist watch. “If we time it right, we can enjoy the sunrise from there. Care to join me?”

“You’re calling this fate? Or are you ready to admit you planned this?”

Silent, Quinn met her gaze and raised one eyebrow.

The beach portion of the run ended on a spacious deck facing the sunrise where they joined other joggers stopped to enjoy the spectacle.

Quinn stood behind her, one arm wrapped loosely around her waist as the sky turned pink, then streaks of orange appeared, until finally the rising sun dissolved all the colors and became a brilliant yellow ball surrounded by blue sky.

He pressed his long body to her back, his mouth next to her ear. A shiver of desire shot through her.

“Shall we try the resort’s breakfast buffet?” he asked in a hushed voice.

“Quinn…” He was making this much more difficult than it had to be.

“You must be hungry,” he said. “I know I’m famished.”

Stepping off the low plank platform onto the sand, he threaded his fingers through hers. “You’re going to need your strength to face the rigors of the spa.”

With a gentle tug, he separated them from the other departing joggers. In a wedge of shade, his movements careful and slow, Quinn folded her into his arms.

She remained tense for a moment, then relaxed against him. One kiss.

The two of them fit together just right. After another long moment of anticipation, he lowered his lips slowly to hers. The long, thorough kiss left her body humming, her lungs unable to breathe.

Nuzzling her neck, he murmured, “I’ve been thinking about kissing you like that since last night. This fate deal is sure working great.”

She grabbed his head. Tugged him away from nibbling her earlobe. Forced him to look straight into her narrowed eyes. “So, fate is throwing us together?”

“Seems that way.” He dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“You’re sticking to that story?”

“What can I say? I’m a believer.” He dipped his head and kissed her chin. “Any chance we can change plans today?” He waggled his brows, softening the naked lust in his eyes with a layer of humor. “Give fate a rest and spend the morning together?”

“Not a chance.” Lord, she was tempted. Dee frowned up at him. She, at least, needed to stick to business. “Today’s the perfect opportunity to check-out two of the resort’s biggest offerings. In one morning, I’ll experience firsthand several of the spa offerings and afterward, take a tour of the golf club. I suggest you do the same, in reverse order.” She dodged his mouth and wiggled out of his embrace.

On the final leg of the run back to the resort, heat rose in her cheeks as her mind flashed to last night’s dreams. Only this time, the lover was no longer shadowy or faceless. The dream lover in her flashbacks was Major Edmund Quinn.

Chapter 6

In the dining room, Quinn returned from his second trip to the breakfast buffet. He balanced two plates, one piled high with fresh fruit, the other stacked with golden waffles swimming in butter and maple syrup.

His plan to finagle a seat at the same table with Dee couldn’t have gone better. When they arrived for breakfast, the room was full, crowded with hungry guests. Dee approached the beleaguered hostess, inquired about a table for one, and the poor young woman paled.

Seated across from him at their small table for two, Dee’s eyes grew big as he positioned the two plates of food and eased into his chair.

“I’d kill for that metabolism,” she muttered under her breath.

He glanced up and smiled. When the waffles were gone, he switched to the fruit. “Okay, I really like your idea. I’ll check out the spa after golf. Then what time shall we meet for lunch?”

“I can’t have lunch with you.” Her meager bowl of oatmeal long gone, Dee nabbed a pineapple slice from his hoard.

“Hey,” he grumbled. But, giving her a good-natured shrug, he slid his fruit plate to the middle of the table. “Would it break your ethics code to at least share with me how you plan to format your information?” He doubted she had fill-in-the-blank questionnaires.

“I don’t understand the question.”

“Besides general observations, you’re keeping track of problems you notice.”

“Right.” Dee swallowed the fruit and sucked pineapple juice from her fingertips. A bolt of stark need blindsided him and he choked on a slice of mango.

“You okay?” she asked.

He nodded.

“Mmm,” she said, “I’d recommend including suggestions to address or solve any issues you find. Also, if you can come up with value-added extras that’s good.”

He drained his water glass. “Could you give me an example?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “Sorry.” Maintaining silence while a server refilled both their water glasses, when they were alone again, she whispered, “That’s all I can share.”

Quinn raised one eyebrow.

“You have to appreciate my position,” she murmured. “Yours is basically the same.”

She sat back and sipped her Kona coffee.

“I bet you really know a lot about this hospitality thing.” Quinn gave her a direct look. “How to make people feel special.”

“Thank you. That’ll be why our bosses expect different things from us. I’ll be expected to go into more detail in my reports while yours will be from a tourist’s point of view.”

“If I happen to come up with an idea or two for extras, I’m adding them in.”

He sounded like a man challenged. She’d bent the line to help him. Offered one suggestion to perk up his reports. Had she gone too far? Had she sparked his competitive streak?

After playing eighteen holes of golf, followed by a thorough inspection of the driving range, the putting green, and pro shop, Quinn showered and dressed in the luxurious club house facilities, and walked through the 19th Hole Lounge.

He’d formulated a mental list of pros and cons as he went along. Plus a few ideas he’d poached from several past Goldsboro charity golf tournaments he’d participated in.

Now for the spa. Returning to the hotel, he made his way to the ornate front entrance of the Fragrant Garden’s Resort Spa. There, outside the double doors of lightly frosted glass, his determination waivered. Craning his neck, he squinted to see inside. All he needed was an idea for little something extra.

No doubt one of the employees standing at the reception desk would happily provide him with a printed price list of spa stuff. Like the weird sounding massages, and other mystery treatments.

Lame. Information like that was available on the damn website. He had to do better. Bet Ms. Dee Smith came out of here overflowing with—

Two women pushed through the doors, chattering a mile a minute. Quinn side-stepped, grabbed for the open door. Head held high, he stepped inside and toward the black marble reception desk.

“May I help you?” It was the younger of two women dressed in sarongs made from the resort’s uniform print material. She gave him a warm smile with a hint of empathy. Like she knew damn well he didn’t want to be here.

“Two things,” he said. “I’m looking for my lady, staying in the Hyacinth suite, Dee Smith. Is she still here?”

When she darted a look at her counterpart, who was apologizing to someone on the phone, Quinn guessed the girl was about to bend the rules.

She lowered her voice. “No, I’m sorry. You missed her. She’s already gone.”

“That’s okay. Look, I want to surprise Dee. Could you help me? Recommend a treatment or something. One she hasn’t already had?”

The young woman beamed. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Smiling, he nodded.

“Let’s move to a consultation room. I can give you a list of suggestions.”

“And could you explain exactly what’s involved?”

“It will be my pleasure.”

The young woman turned out to be a gold mine. He left the spa knowing the names and basics of every treatment. After only three-quarters of an hour, he had tons of recommendations for improvements and extras.

His stomach rumbled. To keep his fate-plan going, he’d end up spending a lot of time searching for Dee. The resort was huge. Either he needed to convince her they should work together. Or bribe one of the young people working here to act as his Dee-spotter.

It was well past lunch time when he finally tracked her down for their next fateful, coincidental meeting. He pushed up his sunglasses and casually circled the lagoon pool.

She sat under an umbrella at a table next to the water’s edge, engrossed in an animated discussion with a woman dressed in navy shorts and a blouse in the resort’s bright flowered print.

As he got closer, the hotel employee ducked her head and hurried away. Standing under the umbrella, he said, “Hey, Dee. Looks like fate’s thrown us together again. Hope I didn’t interrupt.”

“No, we were finished,” Dee said. “You do keep turning up.” She shot him a questioning look.

“I had a sudden urge to see the famous lagoon. The breeze is nice out here and now I’m tempted to have a late lunch. Care to join me?”

She laughed. “Since I’m the one with the table, I should extend the invitation.”

“Thank you, I accept.” He bent to kiss her. As he rounded the table to sit opposite, a server arrived.

After she left with their order, Dee leaned toward him. “Tell me about golf.”

“I’d love to.” He gave her his hungry wolf smile. “Then I’d have to kill you.”

“Very amusing.”

“I presume you toured the golf facilities? Compared them to your resort on Oahu.”

“I did manage a brief tour. My current hotel doesn’t have a golf course. We’re right on Waikiki Beach. Our guests can play at other locations, but truthfully, I never paid much attention. The idea of having a golf course included in the budget is all new to me.”

He winked. “Your turn. Tell me about the spa. Did you get a pedicure? Better yet, show me.” He ducked his head under the table to check out her feet.

“Yes.” She wiggled blue-tipped toes exposed at the end of her sandals. Damn she was cute. He sat upright and tried to slow his breathing.

“How about you?” She arched her eyebrows at him. “What was your favorite spa treatment? The sea salt scrub?”

He tried to look like a forlorn hound dog. “Never got past the reception area. Too fru-fru in there for me. My report on that area may be a tad lean.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

When they finished eating, Dee swallowed the last of her iced tea and folded her hands on the table.

“I have a strong feeling,” she said, “these fateful meetings are going to continue.” She eyed him. He kept his smile non-committal. “Also, I’m beginning to see there might be an advantage to us going together on some projects. Like on certain tours or hotel sports facilities.”

He opened his mouth to respond, and she held up her index finger. “If, and only if, we’re extra careful not to exchange any information that belongs in our reports.”

“It is phenomenal how we keep bumping into each other.” He let that sit out there for a moment. “If you want us to physically combine forces, participate in activities and tours together, I concur.”

He signaled the server. “Could you bring us two champagne cocktails? For a toast.”

She studied his face. “What the heck are you up to?”

“You’ll see. Meanwhile, I suggest we pass along of our pre-booked activity lists to the butler. Put her to work comparing them. She can tell us where we already overlap. Otherwise, she has the pull to merge the two itineraries. Get us in places that are booked or the tickets are sold out.”

“That could put us together every day.”

“And every night.” His voice grew husky.

“Quinn. I not only need to my survey done, I have to do an outstanding job on it.”

“I understand. I swear I’ll help you and stay within ethical bounds.”

Quinn could almost see the wheels turning. Finally, she said, “Let’s see how many overlaps the butler comes up with. Then perhaps we can pick and choose the rest.”

As he did a mental victory lap, the champagne arrived.

He raised his glass. “A toast to exploring our new partnership.”

She seemed hesitant but she drank the wine.

He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. Swallowed a gulp of champagne. They’d overcome another big hurdle. Which made spending time with her much easier. “What’s on your agenda for this afternoon?”

“Boat tour of the Fern Grotto.”

Keeping a straight face, he pretended to consult an app in his phone.

“Do you believe it?” he said. “What are the chances? I’m booked on the Fern Grotto tour leaving at 3:30 p.m.”

She stared at him. He stared back. Then dipped his head to look at his watch. “Hey, we’d better get a move on. Think we should take my car?”

“That won’t be necessary. The resort shuttle doesn’t leave for thirty minutes.”

“Oh, right. Better not drive. We need to experience the same tour that the guests do. Wonder how much this outing sets them back?” He swiped the screen to access the brochure downloaded to his phone. “Ah, says here, $25 per person for an hour and twenty minutes. How long can it take to look at a grotto? The boat trip must be most of that.”

By the time they’d handed over their two schedules to the butler and hurried back to the lobby, the hotel shuttle waiting under the front portico was packed. When they stepped off the vehicle at the dock, he touched Dee’s elbow, leaned to whisper in her ear. “Overcrowding the bus is strictly a hotel issue, right?”

“Absolutely.”

By contrast the privately-owned boat was clean, spacious, open-sided, and not crowded. During the ride, entertainers put on an enthusiastic performance, singing and storytelling until they reached the dock beside a paved path up to the grotto. He enjoyed watching Dee’s reaction almost as much as the actual show.

“Fun so far?” he asked.

“I’d say yes.”

The path was bordered by plants and at the end, the group stood on a wooden platform facing the grotto. The large indent in the hillside was surrounded by lush foliage and ferns hung from the ceiling and walls.

The guide explained the owner’s family history and noted the grotto was a popular wedding locale. The guide was joined by singers and a hula dancer who performed the Hawaiian Wedding song.

“Romantic, huh?” Quinn said.

“Don’t push it, Major.”

The dancer joined them on the return boat trip. He watched as Dee chatted with her and with all the staff. The woman was a marvel at making instant friends. She could convince anybody to talk.

Halfway into the trip, the entertainers proposed hula lessons for the passengers. Quinn volunteered both Dee and himself.

“I’d be happy to film the two of you,” the grandmotherly woman beside him offered.

“No way, you’re going to join us.” Quinn extended his hand and she looked startled. “Come on,” he insisted, “be my partner.”

A man with a sleeping baby strapped to his chest motioned for the older woman to go for it.

“Maybe we can ask this dad to film us.” Quinn raised an eyebrow. The dad smiled, gestured a silent OK, and holding Quinn’s Smartphone, tapped the video feature on.

Dee stood beside him, continuing to look reluctant until the grandmother started rotating her hips. Then she quickly forgot her embarrassment and Quinn was bookended by two hot women telling a story with sensuous hips and graceful arms.

On the shuttle bus ride, Quinn draped an arm over her shoulder while Dee replayed the video. “I would have bet money,” he teased, “that you could dance the hula better than that.”

She pouted at him and he fought the strong urge to crush her to him.

“Never forget, Major. I know where you work. I’ll bet money your squadron has a Facebook page. How about I sent this video to them?”

“Empty threat.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want anyone to get hold of a—”

He executed a huge yawn. “What’s next on your agenda?”

With an exasperated sigh, she handed over his phone. “You’re trying to pretend you don’t already know?”

“I never said that.”

Dee pursed her lips.

Yea. The coincidence thing was wearing thin. “You know what sounds fun? Sunset kayaking.”

“Bingo,” she said. “You must be psychic. That’s next on my list.”

Chapter 7

“Shoot.” DeAnna frowned at the sign tacked over the closed kayak rental window that read: “Tonight’s Sunset Kayak Tour cancelled.” A good-looking surfer type with a clipboard stepped toward them.

“Really sorry about your tour. If you’ll give me your name, I can transfer you to another tour or refund your money.”

Quinn shot her a glance. To the clipboard man he said, “Smith and Quinn. Can you tell us why you had to cancel?”

“The wind’s picked up. A squall appears to be moving in. No kayaking or any other water activities for the rest the day.”

“Does this happen often?”

“The weather’s always a factor when you go on the water.”

“Just like in the air.”

Surfer beamed his approval. “Right. Our helicopters are also grounded. To answer your question, this doesn’t happen often. But the Fragrant Garden doesn’t take chances when it comes to the safety of our guests.”

“I’m reassured,” Quinn muttered.

“I’m disappointed,” DeAnna said at the same time.

“Me, too,” the surfer answered her. “A pod of dolphins was spotted on our route. With any luck, they’ll stick around through tomorrow. Can I rebook you two?”

“My schedule’s full already,” she said.

“Too bad. I’ll process the refund now. And make a note to check back with you later in the week.” He offered her a business card. “Or please call me if any time frees up for you.”

As they moved away, she watched dark clouds skitter across the grey sky. Quinn said, “I was hoping for a late run on the beach. Guess that’s out. I vote we clean up, check out one of the theme gardens before the storm hits, then have dinner.”

She chose her words carefully. “We’ve already spent a lot of today together. Maybe it’s not a good idea to eat every meal with each other, too.”

He stopped in his tracks. Grabbing her hand, he moved them to the side of the path and wedged behind a cluster of palm trees. Squeezing both her hands, his hazel-green eyes looked intense. “If you need a break, just say so. For me, I want to spend as much time as I’ve got here with you. Okay?”

She nodded as warmth spread through her. He leaned closer, his breath teasing her face.

“Seriously, if you need time alone, you’ll tell me, won’t you?”

“Ah, right.” She swallowed hard. “Here’s the truth. I’m having a fantastic time with you, barring the occasional concern you might get bored with me. I don’t need any more alone time than I’m getting.”

He pulled her hands up to rest on his shoulders, slid his hands around to her back. She felt his open palms urge her body against his. With a moan, he crushed his mouth to hers. This was a different kind of kiss. A little rough, a lot demanding.

In a blink, she responded. Her body taut, her mouth instantly mirrored the hunger of his. Her arms lifted, circling his neck and she clung to him for dear life.

Nearby, a child giggled. When the sound worked its way into DeAnna’s fuzzy brain, she broke the kiss, ducking away from Quinn’s mouth. Hearing footsteps coming closer, she pushed against his wide shoulders. “People coming,” she murmured between gasps.

“More honeymooners,” a disgruntled masculine voice muttered from the path.

“I told you we should’ve taken the kids to Disneyland,” a female counterpart hissed.

Quinn took a step back, whispered, “Sorry.” She blinked. He didn’t look sorry. His eyes twinkled with mischief. Exactly like his sister Olivia’s. Seeing the same expression on him, her reaction was completely different. The devilish look in Quinn’s eyes made her blood run hot. Again.

Once the family group was out of sight, Quinn clasped her hand and they went upstairs. Outside the door to her room, he asked, “Where would you like to have dinner?”

“Let’s try the seafood grill.”

“I’ll pick you up here in forty-five minutes. Wear comfortable shoes and we’ll check out the Lava garden before we eat.”

“And before it storms.” The persistent twinkle in Quinn’s eyes set off all her alarm bells. “Why do I get the feeling you’re up to something?

“Because you’re chock full of intuition?” He left the question dangling.

“Uh oh, are we back to date-counting?”

“The total number of our dates is mind-boggling. We’re up to five and tonight—”

“Five?” She tried to do the math. “How’d you come up with—?”

“Let’s have this discussion walking through the garden. Because I believe the more tantalizing question is: what happens after we’ve been dating for such a long time?”

She opened her mouth. Quinn pressed his index finger to her lips and winked. “Shower now, argue later.” He turned and strolled down the hall to his suite.

Exactly forty-five minutes later, she opened the door to him. Quinn carried a colorful flower lei draped over one hand and had a gigantic golf umbrella tucked under the other arm.

“Hi.” There was the high-voltage grin, and the twinkling eyes. “The flowers are sort of an apology. In case you think I’m pushing too hard. The umbrella is for our garden walk. Better hustle, ‘cause it’s gonna’ pour rain any minute.”

“You showered”—she stroked his smooth cheek—“shaved, and did all this in forty-five minutes?”

He slipped the lei over her head, kissed her on both cheeks. “Aloha.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “With no help from our butler?” Craning her neck, she could see the empty desk at the end of the hall.

“I did it all…for you. The butler made our dinner reservations at the grill.”

“Thank you. The lei smells wonderful.” Stepping out, she pulled the door closed and they took the elevator to the lobby.

A crowd was gathered at the main doors, peering out into the gloom. Several raised voices marveled at the sheets of rain punctuated by bolts of lightning and cracks of thunder.

“Not the best night for kayaking.” Quinn handed the umbrella to a bell-person. Slipping his arm around Dee’s waist, he eased her close to his side.

“Or strolling in a garden,” she added and flinched when the thunder boomed. “Did you get the combined itinerary from the butler?”

“Shi—shoot, no. Let’s grab a table in the lounge and I’ll go back after it.”

DeAnna waited for him at a table for two, a prudent distance from the expanse of windows. Remembering highlights of Olivia’s late-night monologues about big brother Eddie, she couldn’t help comparing her personal reaction to the man. Was it possible some of her intense fascination for Quinn was based on Olivia’s opinion?

She gave her head a little shake. Meeting Quinn in person she’d felt an immediate connection. A connection that she might expect after knowing a man for months—not hours. However, the attraction had nothing to do with Ollie. DeAnna’s feelings were present before she knew his relation to Olivia.

Quinn returned in record time, a manila envelope in hand. After a solid kiss, he sat and scanned the room. “Not taking any chances, eh? Nervous about getting struck by lightning?”

No, no. They weren’t discussing her fears. “Has your plane ever been hit?”

“Not with me in it.”

She opened her mouth to ask the obvious follow-up question when the server arrived, delivering the tray of cheese and crackers, along with the drinks she’d ordered.

Quinn took one look at his tall glass of beer and let out a bark of laughter. His pilsner glass was adorned with a paper umbrella, tiny orchids around the edge, and a stick impaling bits of fruit.

As Quinn laughed, the server visibly relaxed. “Sir, I can remove all the—”

“No, the lady here’s got my number,” Quinn said. “I want it all.”

The words warmed DeAnna even more than his laughter. “I ordered cheese for us to save room for seafood.”

“I figured. What’s in your coconut?”

She handed it across the table. Chuckled at the grimace on his face after he took a swallow. “Too sweet.”

“I’d like to take a peek at the resort stores. After we eat, let’s go shopping.”

“Eww…”

“Come on, there must be someone in your life who’s expecting a gift. After you’ve been vacationing in Hawaii for a week?”

His forehead creased with furrows. “You’re right. Could we, maybe, set some sort of a time limit?”

“What’s your rush? Got a hot date?” The minute the joking words left her mouth, she knew she’d stepped off the ledge.

Complete with the twinkle, and wicked grin, the alpha male was back in spades. His hand shot across the table. Capturing hers, he cradled it, caressed her fingers. “I will have, if destiny’s still working with me.”

She swallowed a gasp as a hot surge of desire curled through her. Pressing her lips together, tight, to hold back a groan, she pretended to ignore his remark. No, no way. She wasn’t touching that with a—

“Will you go dancing with me?”

Her scrambled brain realigned. “You’re asking me to dance?”

“After shopping. Let me impress you with one of my top talents.” Eyebrows up, he watched her face. “Say yes.”

“I’d love to dance with you.”

Dinner over, they made a circuit through the lobby reception area, checking out the high-end shops and many kiosks targeting impulse buying tourists.

A short, well-lit hallway led to a mini-mall. She kept a mental note of the brand names of unfamiliar merchandise and clothing lines. Most of the manufacturers, she already knew. Overall, she recognized much of the stock.

Half an hour later, Quinn asked, “Are we done yet?” He had his game face on.

She went on tiptoe, kissed his chin. “Why don’t you take a look at the sale table in the back corner? Maybe your mom would like the set of Kauai coasters, or the sampler of resort spa products. Plus, there’s a bunch of golf stuff on half price. I’ll only be ten more minutes. Pick out your gifts and I’ll meet you at the register.” DeAnna hurried to finish.

She spotted Quinn already at the counter, his mound of loot piled in front of him. “Good work,” she said, wondering which gifts were for Olivia.

“Are you guests of the Fragrant Gardens?” the clerk asked. Quinn nodded, and she said, “We’ll be happy to deliver your purchases to your room.”

“Cool,” Quinn whispered in DeAnna’s ear, “just like at Walt Disney World.”

Bag-free, she led the way into the lounge. With only her big smile and a medium-sized gratuity, she scored them a booth.

“What are we drinking?’ he asked over the music. “Would you like one of your Mojitos? Or how about another champagne?”

“I’d love a beer. Make mine without the frills.”

The band wore tropical shirts and paper leis. A ukulele made even the Bob Segar and Journey songs sound faintly Hawaiian. The minute the beers arrived, Quinn was on his feet, leading her to the dance floor.

She quickly discovered he hadn’t exaggerated his dancing skills. The whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Standing still, the Major was one chiseled, sexy specimen. Then when he put all those muscles in motion?

After a few numbers, the band slowed the tempo. Quinn swept her into his arms. Their first slow dance. He was confident, graceful. An irresistible temptation.

Chapter 8

Quinn took a surreptitious peek at his watch. Almost 2 a.m. The lounge would close soon. Did they have an early start scheduled for the morning? Honestly, he couldn’t remember. Dee had distracted him all through dinner without him even realizing it.

Like when they’d put their heads together to review the butler’s version of a meshed itinerary? He’d been engulfed in her scent. Every ounce of blood fueling his brain punched out and headed south. He got hard, his pants got tight, and his brain turned to mush.

Experiencing the same reaction on the dance floor, he knew this was one place he didn’t need the gray cells.

“What time is it?” Dee’s face had been buried in his neck as they swayed to a slow ballad. Now she peered up at him.

“Time for bed,” he whispered. Her face flushed pink. He loved it when she assumed his intentions, and her faced colored. Was that embarrassment? Or desire?

“Come on. I’ll walk you to your door.”

He wanted her. Just thinking about it was painful. He knew it would happen. Soon. But Delores Smith, or whatever her real name, was special. And here they were, at one of the most romantic places on earth. He’d keep trying. But if necessary, he could be patient a little while longer. Especially if it meant making their first time together a memory to cherish.

Maybe he could seduce her with breakfast in bed?

In the elevator, he nuzzled her earlobe. “What time’s our first tour in the morning?”

“In the butler’s agenda, she moved your 7 a.m. hiking jaunt to the weekend, substituted my 11 o’clock helicopter tour.”

“Hot damn, we can sleep in.”

“Definitely. And then you’re up for a plane ride?”

“Whoa, wait. You just raced past what’s left of tonight. What I’m up for is to spend those hours in your bed. Memorizing every inch of your gorgeous body.”

She made a choking sound. “Not yet.” She said the words so softly, he could barely hear them. “I mean, I really want to—”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “I know. I love teasing you but I’d never push you to do something you’re not ready for. How about a compromise? If we each sleep in our own beds tonight, what do you say to sharing breakfast from room service in your suite?”

“Sounds nice.”

“Great. Now, about tomorrow’s flight. A helicopter’s not a plane. It’s a helicopter.”

“Wow, technical much? Let me rephrase. Are you willing to go on a sightseeing flight in a chopper?”

“I don’t know.” He sounded hesitant, tried to look scared. “I might get airsick.”

“Oh, please. You don’t want to miss Waimea Canyon, the Grand Canyon of Hawaii. And I think they’re flying us along Na Pali Coast State Park.”

“I didn’t pack my helmet.”

She smacked him on the shoulder. Quinn spun her around, trapped her against the elevator wall, and proceeded to ravage her mouth with aggressive kisses.

Dee kissed him right back, reinforcing his belief that she wanted him, too. Damn. When they did get together, it was going to be spectacular.

At the door to her suite, he gave Dee a prim peck on the cheek. “Sweet dreams,” he breathed. “Breakfast at 9 o’clock sharp.”

At 8:55 the next morning, Quinn opened the door to his suite and met the young woman pushing the room service cart. “I’ll take it from here.” He signed for the food, tipped the employee, and waved away the hovering butler.

“Got this,” he said with a bright smile.

Dressed in board shorts and a t-shirt for a day of tropical sightseeing, he’d also slipped condoms into his pocket. Just in case his breakfast plan worked and this morning took a seriously sexy turn.

Dee answered the door, obviously ready to eat and run. She was dressed in knee-length shorts and a sleeveless blouse. His fantasy had Dee greeting him dressed in only a transparent nightgown. That hopeful day-dream burst like an over-inflated balloon.

“Good morning. Shall we eat outside?” She indicated the table on her balcony overlooking the beach in the distance.

He wheeled the cart through the living room. “Does this mean breakfast in bed is out of the question?”

“Let’s save it for tomorrow morning.”

He skidded to a stop. Heart thundering, he abandoned the covered plates. “That calls for a kiss.” Taking a side-step, he grabbed her and enfolded Dee in his arms.

“You are amazing,” he sighed against her lips. The kiss was deep but surprisingly restrained considering how turned on he was. Tonight. She wanted him and they were having sex tonight.

Better confirm, said the skeptical voice in his head.

He left a trail of feathery kisses across her cheek. Then tipped his head up, watched her expression carefully. “Honey, did you just make a date with me for breakfast in bed…following a night of sex?”

Eyes darkening, her smile looked a little ragged around the edges. “Does our truth policy mean we have to be so blunt? The plan sounded much more romantic in my head.”

“Oh, crap.” His stomach dropped. “Um, sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Yes, Quinn, I want to have sex with you tonight. Now, can we eat before our food gets cold?”

“To hell with the food.” His arms tightened around her. “The last thing I want is to screw this up. And not just because of the sex. Dee, I can’t remember ever wanting a woman so much.” Like never. “Swear to god, I’ve never felt so off-balance. I keep questioning myself, and you…” Forgetting his train of thought, he got lost in a pair of blue eyes.

Dee pressed her hands on either side of his face, tugged his head down until their mouths met. Opening, she slid her tongue across his bottom lip. God, she continued to surprise him.

Before the kiss got out of control—who was he kidding, simple proximity to the woman played havoc with his control—he gently released her, and stepped back to set up their meal. Pulling out her chair, he shook open the linen napkin and draped it in her lap.

He poured her coffee. Added one teaspoon of sugar, one little container of Vanilla creamer and one of half and half.

“Exactly right,” she murmured. “You don’t miss a thing.”

With a flourish, he uncovered the plates. Dee’s appreciative laughter sent his heart skittering. In a nod to her usual healthy breakfast, he’d ordered a condiment-sized bowl of oatmeal and one of fresh fruit. But for the main course? A plate of golden waffles with butter and syrup on the side. His tall stack of waffles also boasted two side orders of bacon.

He sat across from her. She beamed at him. “Major, you’ve certainly got the gentleman thing nailed.” Her eyes widened and she raised her hand. “Wait. No suggestive comments about nailed. Don’t spoil it.”

Seeing the gleam in her eyes, he only hoped he could make it through the day without ravishing her. Her warning in mind, he found a different topic. “I’m sorry we missed seeing the pod of dolphins yesterday. A guy I know, another WSO from a different squadron, went swimming with trained dolphins during his Florida vacation.”

“Is that something you’d like to do?”

“Not after seeing those films, The Cove and Blackfish. Watching how dolphins are captured, torn from their families? It was brutal. Made me realize captive dolphins suffer living in tanks, their food withheld unless they perform.”

Dee nodded, so he continued. “My kid sister Olivia and I used to love going to SeaWorld. I’m ashamed to say, it never occurred to me to consider the dolphin and Orca point of view. They deserve to live free.”

“I totally agree.”

“Are there captive dolphin places here in Hawaii?”

“Not on Kauai. This island and the resorts here abide by Dolphin SMART.”

“Are there captive dolphin shows or swims on other islands?”

“Sadly, yes. DolphinQuests at Hilton Waikoloa Village on the big island and Kahala Hotel and Resort on Oahu. Also, SeaLife Park on Oahu has performing dolphin shows.”

“I’ll bet you’ve thought about what the resorts could offer in place of swimming with captive dolphins.” His hand shot up. “Wait. Don’t answer if that’s off-limits.”

“It’s okay. Without going into details, I’d promote swimming with or near wild dolphins. Almost every resort has snorkeling, SCUBA, dolphin and whale watching boat tours. They need to push any activities that could include wild dolphin encounters or sightings.”

“I’m sold. Snorkeling appeals to me. Maybe we could try that later this afternoon? After our death-defying helicopter ride?”

“No time. Tonight’s the luau. Besides we’ll need a reservation.” Dee folded her napkin and stood.

“Leave the dishes, honey,” he teased and reached over to pull her down onto his lap. “How about a preview of tonight?”

Giggling, she licked his ear. His phone buzzed with an incoming call. He stood them both up. “Save my place.”

His Caller ID said: Whitney. Quinn hesitated. “Let me take this in the other room.” Closing the bathroom door, he accepted the call. “Hey Frank.”

“Where are you? According to the schedule, you should be hiking.”

“Naww, sounded way too much like healthy exercise. Got a copter tour at 11 o’clock instead. Something wrong?”

“You bet your ass there’s something wrong. You’re making me look like a damn slacker.”

“And?”

“Seriously, Dad got your first report. The old man says you went way above and beyond the questionnaire. Did you honestly send him a detailed rundown on treatments at the fucking spa?”

“You seem to forget how awesome I am.”

“Are you telling me you actually got treatments at the damn spa?”

Quinn bit his lip to keep the smile out of his voice. “I asked about them.”

“Then you included suggestions about fancy golf tournaments and wrote shit like enhancing the experience. Quinn, that’s the kind of information Dad can use at all his other properties. Man, he’s fucking loving you.”

“Well, I love him, too. This has been a terrific week so far. This resort rocks. How’s Maui?”

“Cut the bullshit. What’s going on?”

Oh hell. Quinn made a split-second decision. “Here’s the deal. I met someone.”

“You’re such a slut. That’s what I get for sending you to Kauai alone. Turn my back for one fucking minute and you’re all over somebody else.”

“Very funny. Seriously, Dee’s a big part of the reason I’m burning up your dad’s lists. We going together to check out stuff. Then when it’s time to write my report, I imagine what she’d say and ideas she’d recommend. It’s incredible.”

“Who is she? What’s she doing there?”

Quinn cringed. Dee undoubtedly worked for a competitor.

Frank persisted. “Don’t tell me she’s simply a tourist.”

Quinn flash-sorted the details in his head. “No, she’s more than a tourist.” Better share the bare minimum about Dee. “The lady lives and works in Honolulu. I like her. Without crossing any line, she’s been a big help and I’m grateful.”

“Grateful you’re met a convenient—”

“Stop right there. Don’t say anything insulting about her.”

“God, Quinn. You never learn. Have you fallen for this woman?”

“Why did you call, Frank?”

“I’m booked on a flight to Kauai this afternoon. See you when I get there.” Frank disconnected.

Quinn sat on the closed toilet seat, his head between his hands. “Shit.” Things were about to get real complicated.

Chapter 9

DeAnna stood near the bathroom, trying to hear what Quinn was saying. Finally, she spoke through the closed door. “Quinn?”

“Still here.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Dandy.”

“If you’re alright, we need to leave. The stretch limo golf cart waits for no man.”

“Be right out.”

She pressed her lips in a thin line. Had Quinn been talking to Olivia? With a shrug, she stuffed her camera and note pad in her shoulder tote, and moved into the living room to wait.

“I’m ready,” Quinn announced, bursting out of the bathroom. He dashed across the room, grabbed her elbow and steered her out the door and toward the elevator. “It was a business call.”

In the back seat of the six-passenger electric cart, he draped his arm over her shoulder and spoke quietly. “Frank called. Said he’s flying here this afternoon.” Mouth turned down, Quinn’s face was a thundercloud.

“And that’s bad news because?”

“I realize that was the original plan. Frank and I coming to Kauai to check this resort. But now I’ve met you and…” his voice drifted off.

“Maybe you should finish out the week with Frank.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I didn’t say that. Still, it isn’t a matter of what I want. Frank made the arrangements and paid for your trip. Is still paying for everything, including your room. The huge suite you barely use.”

“Is that an invitation to move in with you?”

She stared at him. “Be serious for a minute. I’m just saying, if you feel you’re under obligation to Frank—”

“Frank’s father is paying. He wanted two pairs of eyes checking things out.”

“Okay, then, you owe his father. Maybe you should go back to the original plan.”

“That’s not what I want to do. My conscience is clear. I’m seeing more stuff and from a different prospective with you than I ever would’ve with Frank. Meeting you, teaming up for part of this, is turning out to be best all around. Especially for me. Without even a hint of info-sharing.”

He gave her a thorough kiss. In her sandals, her toes curled. “So far, my reports back to Frank’s dad are exceeding expectations.”

“If that’s what you’ve decided, you need to settle things, make peace with Frank.” Her hesitation, her reservations about his decision, must have come across in her voice.

Quinn’s brow furrowed. “Dee, by teaming up with me, do you feel you are in any way short-changing or betraying your boss, or the company you work for?”

“Not for a minute. True, I’m a permanent employee, you’re on temporary assignment. Yet my obligation this week seems about equal to yours. My employer is paying for everything, including my suite. As long as I get the job done, am meticulous about not betraying him or the resort corporation, I don’t feel a bit guilty.” She looked in his eyes, searching for Quinn’s true state of mind.

He withdrew his arm, pulled out his phone, and tapped a speed dial number. Quinn mouthed, “Frank’s voice mail.”

After a few seconds, he said into the phone, “Hey, buddy, I’m looking forward to you getting here. But you need to know, I plan to continue seeing Dee. Can’t wait for you to meet her. We’ll come back to the hotel as soon as the copter tour ends.”

She watched him close the phone. “You made up your mind awfully fast.”

“Military training.” He slid his arm back over her shoulder and tugged her close. “No matter what,” he whispered in her ear, “you and I are going to be together tonight.”

Her blood warmed with desire. She desperately wanted to have sex with Quinn. Tonight. Her nerves took a sickening dive. But at what cost? She pictured Frank cooling his heels in one of the bars downstairs. Or worse, in his and Quinn’s suite just down the hall. Would she be responsible for driving a wedge between Quinn and his close friend?

The interior of the helicopter was surprisingly noisy. Even wearing the expensive looking ear-phone head-sets. DeAnna forgot the racket the minute they were airborne. The first time the pilot dipped and then banked the craft, her stomach lurched. She gave Quinn’s hand a painful squeeze.

But once she got used to the sensation, she uncurled her hand to release him. Quinn shook his head, smiled, and re-laced their fingers.

Nose pressed to the window, she marveled at the bird’s eye view of the island. “Breathtaking.” When Hawaii’s Grand Canyon appeared below, the colorful Waimea Canyon, she pointed and craned her neck to see it all.

The other passengers, a young couple, seemed more interested in the rugged cliffs along the Na Pali coast. They asked the pilot lots of questions about accessing the small crescent shaped beaches.

They had to be honeymooners. The pilot happily made another, lower pass.

As soon as they landed, Quinn checked his messages. To give him privacy, and fearing he might try to call DeAnna, she waited for him beside the extra-long golf cart.

Striding toward her, his handsome face was carved in a deep frown. Her hands curled into fists at her side. Uh oh. What could she do to help?

Claiming the cart’s back seat again, he whispered, “Don’t you start worrying too! There’s no word yet from Frank.”

“Maybe you should wait for him in your room?”

Quinn checked his watch. “He should be here by now. I’ll check at the desk, see if he left a message. Then go to the room. I might as well change now for the luau.”

“Why don’t you see if our butler can get another ticket for Frank?”

His frown deepened. “Not until I know he’s on-island.”

The resort’s limo-golf-cart pulled beneath the tall latticed portico covering the entrance to Fragrant Garden. Quinn jumped out and offered his hand to her. When she stepped on the pavement, he pulled her close.

“How’s your lei holding up?’ he asked. “Could you wear it tonight?”

She gave him a warm kiss, then tilting her head, she considered. Flower leis had notoriously short shelf-lives, but she’d carefully placed the one he’d given her in the suite’s mini fridge. To her, it didn’t matter how brown the edges were, she’d wear it tonight. For Quinn.

“It’s holding up like a champ,” she said. “I’ve planned my ensemble for tonight around your flowers.”

He kissed her again and sliding an arm around her waist, they walked together to the front desk.

“Aloha. One message for you, Mr. Quinn,” the clerk said. “And two for Ms. Smith.”

They moved away from the counter to open the discreet envelopes and read the notes.

Holding her breath, Dee unfolded her first message. It was from Mr. Martin’s assistant.

“Ms. Drake, Mr. Martin directed you to purchase several articles of clothing from the resort shops. To help you fit in. As of today, we have confirmed the spa bill but no clothing charges.”

A wave of guilt swept through her. Then, scolding herself, DeAnna cleared her mind, and was tempted to laugh. An assistant was admonishing her for not spending corporate money on personal clothing? She could—

“Yes!” Quinn blurted out. Several guests stared at him, and he muttered, “Sorry. Good news.”

He moved to her side, peered over her shoulder. “Did you get a good message, too?”

“Pretty good.” She slid the note back into its envelope. Tore open the second one. From Mr. Martin, it read:

“Ms. Smith, Great information, terrific suggestions, you’re doing a marvelous job. Keep up the good work. M.”

She read it out aloud and turned to hug Quinn. “Now. Tell me your news.”

“Frank missed his flight. He won’t be here ‘til morning. Tonight’s going to be all about us.”

“I need to make a slight detour before I go upstairs to get ready for the luau.” When Quinn started to speak, she added, “You go on up. Let’s meet in my room at 6:30.”

No need to say anything about the contents of the assistant’s note. In just a few minutes, she’d charge a spectacular, expensive dress. She knew exactly which one she wanted. Who could miss it? It was prominently featured on the center manikin of the Hawaiian Couture Boutique’s lobby display. Bonus? The purchase would show up almost immediately on the hotel bill.

As soon as Quinn stepped into the elevator, she hurried to the Boutique. Stopping just inside the door, she stood near the front display.

The approaching saleswoman was carefully dressed, without a hint of the flowered fabric used throughout the rest of the resort, and was perfectly groomed. The only clue she was part of the staff was her discreet nametag that read: Lalani. “May I help you?”

DeAnna smiled in return. “I’m Dee Smith, in the Hyacinth suite. Does the white silk dress in the window run true to size?”

“Yes, Ms. Smith, it certainly does. It’s an original from a Honolulu designer. May I bring a size ten to you in the dressing room?”

“No need. I’ll take the ten in a hanging bag. Oh, and please remove the tags. I’m wearing it to the luau tonight.”

“Excellent choice, Ms. Smith. May I suggest adding the Plisse stole?” She indicated the designer silk wrap with lace border draped over the dress manikin’s arms. It was exquisite. A Valentino that was more expensive than the dress itself.

DeAnna fingered the lace. “Lovely. However, to my eye, the stole is a bit too formal for this dress.” She shot the clerk a confiding look. “Plus the fact, there’s no way can I afford to get both the dress and this wrap. Could you show me something along the lines of a Pashmina with a coordinating blue in it?” The blue hand-painted design on her new white dress shouldn’t be hard to match or coordinate.

Despite the drastic drop in her potential commission, Lalani beamed and said, “Certainly.” She hurried across the store, and returned with a perfect match.

“Great choice, Lalani,” DeAnna said. “I already have the shoes and bag.”

“Would you like to look at a necklace or a decorative comb to wear in your hair?”

“More terrific suggestions. However, I’ll be wearing my flower lei so that’s all I need.” She followed the woman to a small desk at one side of the boutique.

“You’ve been very helpful.” DeAnna leaned forward slightly and asked, “Did you decorated the front window?”

The woman’s voice dropped to nearly a whisper. “Yes. Well, sort of. Our corporate buyer decides which fashions and accessories to feature. Then I do my best to—er, arrange them.”

DeAnna matched the confidential tone. “I understand completely. I fell in love with this dress thanks in part to your stunning window decoration.” Corporate should consider allowing this jewel of an employee to make her own decorating decisions.

“Thank you for saying so, Ms. Smith. Should I ring for a—“

“No, I’ll take both bags with me.”

“Mahalo and enjoy your evening.”

In the suite, she finished her preparations by pinning the front of her hair up, away from her face, curling the back, and applying a little extra make-up.

In the living room, she decided to splurge on a bottle of wine—to pay for it separately, on her personal card—and made her selection from the honor bar.

Hearing a tap on the door, she slipped the lei over her head, and hurried to let Quinn in.

He took one step inside and froze. Stared at her. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

She did some staring herself. He was gorgeous in dark tailored pants and a silk vintage Hawaiian shirt. The man looked like he’d stepped off a GQ cover, Tropical Edition. Her knees wobbled and her mouth watered.

Kicking the door closed, Quinn spun her around and used his rock-hard body to pin her to the wall.

God, he even smelled great—bay rum and coconuts. The last thing she saw was his eyes darken with need, then he crushed his mouth to hers, the kiss fierce, demanding. Responding instantly, her blood pressure spiked. She curled her arms around his neck, and hung on. Quinn’s tongue plunged into her mouth and made demands of its own.

His hands roamed up from her waist to pause just at the outside curve of her breasts.

A firm knock on the door reverberated through her. The kiss broke. Still clinging to him, she struggled to bring the world back into focus. Their foreheads touched while they both gasped for air.

“Ms. Smith?” A female voice said from the hallway. “It’s your butler.”

DeAnna pushed against Quinn and he stepped back. When she had enough room, she opened the door.

“Pardon the interruption,” the butler said, balancing a large silver tray. “I have a delivery for Major Quinn but he’s not—”

“Excuse me?” Quinn moved to stand beside her. He seemed startled. Because the woman used his rank?

“Major. I missed you at your suite. Hoped to catch you here. I know you’re scheduled for the luau tonight.”

The butler dipped her head to indicate the tray with its large wine bottle nestled in an ice bucket, two crystal flutes, and a generous scattering of flowers.

“The Fragrant Garden’s VIP Champagne service compliments of Major F. Whitney, Jr.”

Frank? DeAnna darted a look at Quinn, who was helping the butler steady the heavy tray.

“From Frank,” he whispered confirmation. Addressing the smiling butler, he gave her one of his charming grins and a quick shrug. “Ms. Smith and I are about to leave for the luau. Could you keep the wine on ice for us?”

“My pleasure.” She retook possession of the tray. “You both enjoy the celebration.”

The stroll to the luau led them through yet another garden. This one joined the resort property to a different section of sandy beach reserved for the traditional luau. They were greeted by the sound a man blowing a huge conch shell. Several willowy women dressed in sarongs and with flowers in their long dark hair, presented each arrival with a shell lei.

“Aloha malihinis, welcome newcomers. Are you two honeymooners?”

“No,” DeAnna answered quickly. She was well aware of the State’s popularity as a honeymoon destination. It translated into profitable business. Why this event was such a favorite those tourists in particular?

After inspecting the Imu, the underground oven where the pig and other meats were roasted, they sat at a long communal table near the stage.

Whispering to Quinn, she said, “I’m getting a tropical drink in one of those tall commemorative glasses. If you’d rather order a beer, I‘ll be happy to share my umbrella and all the garnish.”

His laugh sent shivers of delight down her spine. “It’s a deal,” he said. “Mahalo.” He kissed her soundly. Under the table, Quinn’s hand rested on her leg. Until the food service began. Course after course arrived and much of it could be eaten by hand.

Finishing off his serving of Imu-cooked Kalua Pig, Quinn cleaned his hands. “I have to say, this whole deal is pretty romantic. Remember the name of the place Meg Ryan talked about, in the movie, IQ? Something about pools and bubbles kissing your skin.”

A question lots of resort guests asked her. “That is in Hawaii,” she said, “the Seven Sacred Pools. Not on Kauai. The sacred pools are on the road to Hana on Maui.”

“So… not this trip?”

“Fraid not. Want to try a bite of my Huli Huli Chicken?”

“Sure, you can distract me with food.” She tore off a bite-sized hunk and fed it to him. Holding on to her wrist, he licked her fingers. “You’re delicious, too.”

“I’d love to take credit, but I’m sure it’s the tropical guava sauce.”

He drew her finger in his mouth and sucked.

A hot shaft of desire pierced her.

When Quinn released her finger, his hazel-green eyes gleamed with heat. “I’m sure it’s you.”

Chapter 10

Quinn had to admit, he wasn’t giving the entertainment portion of the luau much of a chance. He’d enjoyed the food, drank two cold beers—they were no help cooling him down—and now, all he could think about was getting Dee back to the suite. And naked.

He was just about to suggest they make a break for it, when Dee’s hand squeezed his. Quinn gave himself a mental shake. Reconsidered. Everything here tonight: the balmy breezes, the sound of the nearby surf, the dark, star-studded sky, provided a classic formula for romance.

He’d told himself, and Dee, he was willing to wait. Do whatever it took to make their first time together memorable. Why let his impatience guide him now?

Glancing at Dee, he read the rapt expression on her face. Tracking her line of sight, he refocused on the stage. Dee seemed to enjoy the couples having a good time, and at the same time, she was working.

When the MC had called for all the newlyweds in the audience to join him in the spotlight, twelve couples responded. Now he was asking each bride and groom where they hailed from, how they’d met, and when they’d tied the knot.

Quinn gave Dee another sidelong glance. Even in the flickering lantern and tiki-torch-light, he could almost see the wheels turning. He checked out the other couples at their table. Everyone appeared engrossed, and or amused.

Finally, the MC summoned the colorfully dressed dancers to give the couples hula lessons. Under the table, Quinn stroked Dee’s knee. Her hand covered his, squeezed again.

“I knew it had to be something like this,” she whispered under her breath.

“Getting lots of good ideas?” He mouthed into her ear.

She whipped her head around, gave his mouth a quick, hard kiss. “I knew you’d understand.” And returned to watching the stage.

After the newlyweds had thoroughly massacred the traditionally graceful dance, the entire cast crowded the stage for a rendition of the Hawaiian Wedding Song. That brought down the house. All around him applause filled the air along with shouts of “Aloha” and “Congratulations” from a wildly enthusiastic audience.

“Right,” Dee murmured. “I’ve seen enough.”

“Sure? I don’t mind if there’s something else you—”

“No, the rest is the same as our luau. Ready?”

“Yes.”

Half-rising from her seat, she signaled good-bye to their table-neighbors. In a half-crouch, she hurried toward the exit. He followed hot on her heels. When they reached the quiet of the garden outside, Quinn straightened and stretched his back.

With a touch to her elbow, he asked, “You’re certain you got everything you needed?”

“Absolutely. Thanks. I especially wanted to see why this luau gets such rave reviews, especially from honeymooners. Now I know. Plus, I’ve come up with a few ideas to expand the whole concept.”

“That’s great news.”

She stopped, turned, and with one fluid step toward him, she was in his arms. Her tantalizing kiss succeeded in emptying his brain and stealing his breath.

Dee whispered, “Edmund Quinn, I’m excited about spending the night with you. Thank you for not rushing me. For giving me a chance to evaluate the luau. Let’s go drink Frank’s expensive champagne and celebrate.”

“Don’t you want to write your report while it’s fresh in your mind?” He sucked in a deep breath.

“I sure I can remember the details. How about you?”

“I’ll admit, I might be a little keyed up.” He laughed. “And a lot turned on. I’d much rather ravish you.”

This time the kiss was slow and sensual, an experience that left him wanting more. Abruptly, Dee moved her mouth to the side and shoved against his chest. Grabbing his hand, she treated him to a devilish grin. “Race you back to the room?”

Laughing, Quinn gripped her hand and started them toward the main building at a brisk pace.

For most of the ride upstairs, the elevator was crowded with happy, chattering people. When the lift slid open on the VIP level, the butler was nowhere in sight.

“Your place,” he announced as they started down the hall. Crowding her from behind, he nibbled on her neck as she swiped the key card and opened the door.

Inserting the Do Not Disturb card on the outside lock, he remembered to slide the chain, and firmly shut the world out.

Would you like a drink of our champagne?”

“Not now. Not for me, unless you…?” Shaking her head, she looked young and vulnerable. Ignoring his own inclination to rip her dress off, instead, he took her hand and sat her beside him on the sofa.

“Dee, you’re so beautiful it hurts. I want you—more than I can put into words. But, you need to know, nothing’s going to happen unless you want it to.”

Damn, what was he saying? It sounded honorable and he meant every word, but hell, was he trying to sabotage himself? Dee affected him, his dick, his brain, maybe even his heart, like no other woman. He’d better say it all. “I’m surprised how quickly you’ve become important to me. We can take it slower. It’ll kill me but we can wait a while longer.”

“I agree, Quinn. Whatever this is between us, it did happen fast. But I don’t want to wait any longer. The way I feel about you? Those feelings override any qualms I might have about how many days we’ve known each other.” A pink blush bloomed across her cheeks. She lowered her voice. “I want us to have sex—tonight.”

“Thank god.” His shoulders slumped as the tension left them. “Promise you’ll keep talking to me. If at any point, you want anything, even if you want to stop, say so and we stop.”

“Really? Any point?”

He groaned. “Almost any point.”

Her blue eyes darkened in response to his promise. “Now that we’ve talked this to death,” she whispered, “Could we move along?”

A sudden fear that he might never see Dee again after this week stabbed his heart. With one arm under her knees, he swept her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom.

At the edge of the bed, he set her back on her feet. Tossing his wallet on the side table, he closed his mouth over hers in a gentle kiss. And successfully banished his fearful thoughts.

Dee opened, inviting him in. The kiss escalated as their tongues met and explored. The slick wet of her mouth, the scent of the lei on her heated skin drove him crazy. When she reached for the zipper on her dress, he touched her wrist. “Let me.”

“Good,” she sighed against his lips. Once more sweeping her tongue through his mouth, her hands went to work unbuckling his belt.

Still kissing her, he lowered the dress zipper. Removed the flower lei, and tossed it on the pillow before easing the top of her dress down. And revealing a strapless bra. Hands on her shoulders, he gently eased her back. He had to look. “Let me see.”

Lace cupped the plump mounds and barely covered her nipples. “You’re perfect.”

Unhooking the front clasp, he released her breasts. His hands moved to stroke the undersides, and she made a humming sound of approval. His thumb brushed over one taut peak and Dee moaned. With a slight movement, she bowed her back, arching her breasts toward him, offering them.

Quinn registered the fact that his pants slid down his legs to his ankles. But when Dee stroked the straining bulge trapped in his boxer briefs, he stopped her hand. “Let me finish getting your clothes off.”

He slid the rest of the dress over her hips and let it pool at her feet. His mouth captured one breast, and he sucked on the nipple.

“Don’t ever stop,” she moaned, gripped his arms to steady herself. “Oh, your shirt.” Dee fisted clumps of his sleeve. “I want to feel your skin.” She tugged, pulling the shirt over his head.

When they were both naked, their shoes and the combined piles of clothing kicked aside, he jerked the bedspread out of the way. Scooping her up again, he settled her on the sheets.

Damn, she was beautiful. His chest pounded at the glorious sight of Dee open to him. With curves in all the right places, her skin smooth and tanned. Lying beside her, inhaled her unique fragrance. The potent combination of her warm skin, the flower lei, and lotion made him dizzy.

Like some wanton goddess, she opened her arms and curled them around his neck. Enthralling him. Dee threaded her fingers through his short hair, caressed his scalp. Finally, increasing the pressure, she pulled him slowly down to her.

For a split second, the meeting of their lips was gentle. Sweet, almost poignant. Until a raging inferno burst inside him and he crushed his mouth to hers. Devouring, demanding. Dee responded with fiery demands of her own.

His hands were frantic, needing to touch her everywhere at once. Her fingers stroked his body, tantalized, enflamed.

Returning to her breasts, he licked and suckled, while she writhed and moaned. And held him to her with an iron grip. When one nipple was wet and hard, he moved to the other one.

My god. Dee was unbelievably responsive. Her passion worked on him like gasoline on a flame. Much more this and he’d explode.

Leaving a trail of kisses down her torso, he explored the backs of her knees with fingers and tongue. When he kissed the inside of her thigh, Dee protested. “I need you inside me—now.”

He raised his head, looked carefully into her eyes. “Come for me once, before I chance it.”

“Eddie. Don’t make me beg.”

He nudged her legs farther apart and ran his fingers along her intimate folds. When he lowered his head, and his tongue began to stroke and tease her nub, a quiver ran through her body. He eased one finger into her and then a second one. Wet and tight.

His fingers thrusting faster, and deeper, her body went rigid. Dee’s hips came off the bed. Her inner muscled tightened, pulsed against his fingers. As the orgasm gripped her, she screamed his name.

He stroked and kissed everywhere on her body he could reach. Until she heaved a sigh and relaxed against the pillow.

“Lord,” she gasped, “That was amazing.”

Tearing open the condom packet, he rolled on protection. Crawling over her on hands and knees, when he got close enough, she grasped his straining erection and guided it home. They groaned in unison.

Dee wrapped her legs around his hips and nipped at his bottom lip. “Major?”

“Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “This time, we come together.”

Chapter 11

The orgasm sent hot waves of shuddering release through every molecule of DeAnna’s body. “Ed,” she screamed, “Oh god, Eddie.” Spots danced in front of her eyes while her heart tried to pound its way up her throat.

Bent forward on her knees, hands braced for dear life against the headboard, she fought to catch her breath. As the tremors began to quiet, she collapsed flat on her stomach. Behind her, Quinn caved in on top of her.

“Ooof.” What little air she’d regained whooshed out of her lungs.

“Sorry.” Quinn rolled his long, heavy body partially off to one side. Terrific. Now only half of his body weight was squashing her. Then again, what a way to go.

Sucking in a deep breath, DeAnna sighed. The man had mad skills. After back-to-back multiple orgasms, she’d lost track. Talk about endurance. He could recover faster than—

Quinn’s warm lips moved over her shoulder. Again?

She shook her head, attempting to bat him away. “Break time,” she announced. “Let’s have a glass of champagne and I need a snack before round four.”

Eddie—or Quinn—she’d better figure out which to call him, shoved up to sit beside her sprawled body, and kissed the middle of her spine.

“Don’t move,” he said, his breath tickling her skin. “Be right back with the bubbly. What do you want to eat?”

“Surprise me,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“That’s my girl.” After dropping a butterfly kiss on the back of her neck and a noisy smacking one on her bare butt cheek, he trotted off to the bathroom.

She uttered a contented hum and snuggled deeper into the pillow.

Soon, from the living room, the wine bottle made a distinct popping sound, and a few moments later Quinn stood beside the bed.

“Honey,” he said, “if we’re eating in bed, you need to sit up.”

Starting to roll over, Dee remembered she was naked. One eye open, she noticed he was, too. He was holding a tray, but she’d ask him anyway. “Could you hand me my robe?”

“And pass up the view? Hell, no. Besides, my hands are full.”

She tried to shoot him the stink eye but failed. In a series of awkward gyrations, she turned over while stretching her arm to grab the sheet and yanking a pillow around to cover herself.

Ed laughed so hard he shook. So did the champagne bottle. In the interest of safety, Dee abandoned modesty, and reached for the tray.

His hands now free, Ed snapped the sheet up, covering most of her. Tugging the hem of the top sheet under the tray, he commandeered the pillows. “Let me fluff these, tuck one behind you.”

Moments later, they sat up against the headboard and pillows, the wine bottle on the bedside table, food plate on the mattress between them. Ed lifted his champagne flute. “To us.”

Tapping her glass to his, she repeated the toast and drank. The wine fizzed on her tongue. For the next few moments, Quinn was unusually quiet while she struggled to read the expression on his face.

Taking another swallow, she asked, “Where did you go?”

“I’m here. The champagne reminded me. I know a couple honeymooning in Hawaii right now,” he said, glancing over to her.

“On Kauai?”

“Not sure. My roommate Steve went to their wedding in Tokyo. Came home in love with the maid of honor.”

DeAnna squirmed. “A woman he knew before?”

“Met her on the flight over,” Quinn said. “Steve claims love at first sight.”

“Sounds shaky, doesn’t it?”

“You think so?” His voice low, Quinn’s tone was dead serious.

Sitting straight, she speared a large pineapple slice with a toothpick and chewed slowly. In the few days she’d known Quinn, she hadn’t fallen in love, but she couldn’t deny being deeply in lust.

She twirled the toothpick between two fingers. What female wouldn’t be crazy about a gorgeous, intelligent man like Ed Quinn? An honorable, athletic guy with a sense of humor who’d spent the last several hours proving he was a generous and extremely talented lover?

Nice description, her inner voice turned snarky. If he’s so damn perfect and you’re so crazy about him, why haven’t you been honest? She should at least tell the sex god her real name. Or come completely clean. Admit to him she’d been his baby sister Olivia’s close friend since their sorority days.

Unable to meet his eyes, she changed the subject. “Does everyone call you Quinn?”

“Not everybody.” He gave her a sly wink. “I like the sound of Ed or Eddie. Especially the way you say them.”

“Be serious for a minute.”

“Okay, here’s the deal. My mom, dad, and little sister Olivia all call me Eddie. Since junior high, everybody else uses Quinn.” She could feel his stare. A blush crept up her neck and across her cheeks.

“In middle school,” he said, “the guys made fun of Edmund so I switched to Quinn and made it stick.” He ran a fingertip down her bare arm. “Honey, you can call me any damn thing you want.” Goose bumps sprouted in the wake of Quinn’s finger and his words.

“Seriously,” he continued. “Coming from you, I like Ed, Eddie, or Edmund. You make them all sound special.” He leaned across the plate of food and kissed her.

After another pause, Quinn offered to top off her wine glass. She shook her head. Finally, he twisted to face her. “I’m becoming expert at hearing the wheels turn in your agile brain. I suspect this is about more than my name. What’s bothering you? Is there something else you want to ask me? Or tell me?”

“I can’t help thinking about your friend Steve…” Her voice trailed off. Damn. What was she doing? She’d just re-introduced the topic of Steve?

“Dee, telling you about Steve falling in love with Kari at first sight, I didn’t mean for it to sound like a comparison. It’s not. Whatever we have going, whatever this is, between you and me? I know it’s happened fast, but it has nothing to do with them. This is strictly about you and me.”

“Alright.”

“I suggest we take each day, and night, one at a time. See what happens. Tonight’s been, I’d say amazing except that word isn’t nearly strong enough.”

She kissed him. “Tonight’s been beyond amazing for me too. With lots of other adjectives.”

Without another word, Quinn set both their glasses and the empty food plate on his side table. Sliding her down the bed until she was flat on her back, he put his talented hands and magic mouth to work on her body.

In minutes, he managed to drive all rational thought from her brain.

The sound of an incoming message pulled DeAnna from a deep sleep. She grabbed her phone, muted the sound, and glanced at Quinn. The man was sound asleep.

Slipping carefully out of bed, she tiptoed to the bathroom and closed the door behind her. The glowing screen indicated a text message from Olivia. A list of questions that ended with a demand for immediate answers. Olivia had never been a model of patience.

As much as she’d love to hear Ollie’s voice, better not take a chance calling her back right now. Not with big brother in the next room. DeAnna sat on the edge of the whirlpool tub, hit reply and typed a text.

“Can’t answer all your questions now. On assignment in Kauai, probably through the weekend. Please be patient!! Promise to call, tell you everything the minute I get back to Honolulu. Many hugs!”

She sent the text, then sat staring at the phone. Shit. Once again, she’d forgotten to leave the phone on vibrate. What if Quinn decided to call DeAnna Drake again? She wanted to tell him herself. Not have him find out who she was by a fluke.

The walls seemed to close in. It was past the point when she should have told Quinn her real name. An event that should happen before she revealed to Ollie that she’d met big brother. But she also needed to keep her promise to Mr. Martin.

When her sleepy eyes blurred, she blinked them back into focus. She’d deal with all this tomorrow. DeAnna snorted. My god, now she sounded like Scarlet O’Hara. But there was a grain of truth in that old saying about a situation looking better in the light of day.

Flipping off the light, she cracked open the door and tiptoed to the bed.

“Hi,” Quinn whispered. “Everything okay?”

“Fine.” She crawled into bed, snuggled against him.

“I missed you.” Quinn pressed her onto her back, rolled on top of her. He supported most of his weight on his knees and forearms. She felt the hard, thick proof of his words between her thighs.

“Show me,” she groaned. “Show me how much.”

Chapter 12

Quinn’s mouth curved into a proud grin the next morning when he and Dee arrived at the elevator within seconds of each other. God, he loved a punctual woman.

“Perfect timing,” he murmured in the middle of a kiss. She looked terrific and smelled even better.

“Frank decided to meet us elsewhere?”

“Yep.” Early this morning, after enjoying a long, hot shower with Dee, Quinn had returned to his suite to shave and dress. “When I got to the room, he was already gone. The note said to meet him at the buffet.”

In the dining room Quinn spotted Frank standing in line for a custom omelet. After they shared a back-slapping man-hug, he introduced Dee. The two of them exchanged a handshake, and Frank pointed to the table he’d staked-out. “Let’s meet-up there.”

Quinn gave Dee a grin. “May I escort you to the fresh-fruit and healthy food section?”

“Don’t be silly.” Dee grinned back and shooed him away. “Go get something you want to eat. I can make it to our table.”

After they were all seated, Frank broke out his most charming smile and flirted with Dee. “It’s great to finally meet you. The beautiful mystery woman who knows so much about the hospitality industry.”

“Hey.” Quinn showed teeth but didn’t bother to growl at his friend. Once he’d been waved-off, Frank could and would still flirt with a lovely woman who wasn’t his. But only up to a point. Their friendship ensured Frank could be trusted to never cross the line.

She added half and half to her coffee. “Nice to meet you, too, Major Whitney.”

“Please, call me Frank.”

“Frank, you’re stationed in Idaho?”

“That’s right. Mountain Home Air Force Base.” He glanced out of the floor to ceiling windows to the azure sky and sundrenched view. Then took a long swallow of his Mimosa. “A week in Hawaii is one hell of a great break.”

“How’d you like Maui?” Quinn asked.

“What’s not to like? The golf courses are primo.” Frank turned to Dee. “Had to high-tail it here to Kauai to check up on my buddy, Quinn. He and his fancy reports to Dad were making me look like a slacker. Until I discovered you’re both the beauty and the brains behind this operation.”

“Wait—” Dee’s eyes grew round.

“That’s enough, Whitney,” Quinn kept his voice low, “Stop teasing.”

“Quinn and I are working separately,” she insisted. “There was never—”

“He knows that.” Quinn patted her hand. “Just ignore him.”

“Are you sure?” Dee shot back a warning look, while under the table, the toe of her sneaker kicked Quinn’s ankle.

“Sorry.” Frank lifted both hands in surrender. “Just enjoying a little joke. I understand it’s a sensitive area. Associating with employees of rival companies. Learned those rules of confidentiality at my father’s knee.”

The timely arrival of the server to top off the coffee mugs silenced all three of them. Distracted, Quinn lifted his steaming mug. Before he could scald his tongue, Dee touched his wrist. He plunked the coffee back down, took her hand instead. For good measure, he sent Frank a meaningful glare. And spoke directly to Dee.

“To be clear. What I said to Frank was, my reports on the Fragrant Garden also include ideas and suggestions because, thanks to you, I’m looking at my assignment differently. You’ve inspired me. Instead of simply listing problems, I’m also thinking about solutions and enhancements.”

“Glad I could be of help.” Dee smiled at them both, then she faced Quinn. “What’s on our agenda for today? Were you able to get Frank included in all the remaining tours and reservations?”

“Yep.” Quinn had suffered mixed feelings when he tasked the butler with including Frank in the already combined itineraries. Especially for today. He’d put thought and effort in planning today’s surprise. A special tour, just for Dee and himself.

“First, Frank, let me give you some background.” He explained the Dolphin SMART program. Including the details Dee had shared with him, and added the research he’d done.

“Besides the corporation doing the right thing,” Quinn said, “any hotel or chain of resorts that comes down on the side of the wild dolphins, can cash in big. After checking around, I created my own mini questionnaire. It should help us get the most out of today. On the way, we can grill the driver for details. Ask about similar tours or appropriate alternate destinations.”

Frank stopped eating long enough to look intrigued. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” Quinn brought Dee’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “For the authentic experience, you two try to relax, immerse yourselves in the experience.”

“Are we’re going SCUBA diving?” Dee guessed.

“Stop being so literal.” He smiled, shaking his head. “Just wait for it. What I’m saying is, after we get details from the driver, our work is finished. All the rest is fun. This evening we’ll need to split up briefly to write up our reports. Include potential improvements to my tour, jot down marketing strategies.”

“My man’s a real stickler for the rules, isn’t he?” Frank noted, darting a gaze between Quinn and Dee.

“Yes, thank goodness.” Dee beamed.

“You two make quite the team,” Frank murmured.

“On today’s tour,” Quinn said, “it was relatively easy to add one more passenger.”

The cab dropped them off at a small dock where a large white catamaran waited. Quinn smiled down at her when Dee linked fingers with his. “I was close,” she whispered. “Snorkeling, right?”

“Welcome aboard the Aloha Tryst,” the captain announced with a flourish, introducing himself and two crew members who handed them aboard. “We’re about to embark on an exciting snorkel adventure.”

“I was waiting for him to say,” Dee whispered to Quinn, “a three-hour tour.”

“Shhh,” Quinn hissed. “Pay attention. There’ll be a quiz later.”

The crew untied the boat from the dock while the three passengers settled themselves on a padded bench with Dee in the middle.

The captain eased his boat away from the dock, then picked up speed as they moved farther from the shore. Donning a headset, he spoke into a microphone so they could hear him over the roar of the motor.

“Aloha and welcome to, what we hope will be, the ultimate dolphin experience.”

Dee gasped and grabbed Quinn’s arm.

“We’re always excited to welcome Dolphin-aware tourists to Kauai,” he continued. “Let me tell you a little about our local pods, we’ll review the rules, then we’ll get wet and hopefully you’ll meet some Hawaiian dolphins.”

The captain explained that dolphin research was ongoing in Hawaii. The scientists believed the Spinner Dolphin pods hunted at night, away from shore.

“Since we could be disturbing their rest period, we’ll switch to sail as we get closer. Then only spend a limited amount of time in the cove and in the water. If we’re lucky enough to see a pod, I’ll drop anchor. You three go quietly into the water from the back platform.”

Dee raised her hand. “Any chance we’ll see Bottlenose dolphins?”

“A very good chance. They seem to like swimming in bays and nearer to the shore. They’re very curious, playful, and will approach swimmers. The rules say to maintain a 50-yard distance, wait for the dolphin to approach you. If that happens, you can tread water or continue swimming in the same direction.”

Quinn loved seeing the excitement on Dee’s face. Whatever her expression, the woman was sexy as hell. Today could be the experience of a lifetime.

As the catamaran followed the perimeter of the island, they played with the flippers and snorkels. The captain pointed out landmarks, repeated Hawaiian legends, and entertained them. As they approached a large inlet, one of the crew, positioned on the bow with powerful binoculars, shot his arm in the air. The captain pulled off his headset and cut the engine. The three sailors scrambled to switch to sail. Soon, the wind tugged at the catamaran, and it slid silently through the water toward the center of the cove. The anchor made a splash, followed by quiet.

In the silence, the captain joined them near the diving platform. “Spinners,” he said in a whisper. “Keep your voices low; splashing to a minimum. Do not swim under them. We’ll be filming so you’ll have digital memories to take home. Have fun.”

Frank went in the water first and turned to help Dee. When they were all together, the captain leaned over and pointed, “Swim, slow and steady, toward that rock formation. Stop before you reach it, at a point about 60 yards out.”

As they swam, Quinn kept Dee in his peripheral vision. Before they reached the designated stopping point, a gray shadow streaked past him. Startled, he stopped. Bringing his head up, he found Dee treading water. Frank had stopped several feet ahead.

Moments later, multiple fins broke the surface around them. “Hold still,” Dee commanded in a low voice. “Frank, stay where you are.”

The captain had explained that the Spinners were shy. Quinn watched Dee adjust her mask and put her face in the water. Following her example, he could make out the slender shapes circling and crisscrossing below them. It seemed the dolphins were checking them out. Deciding if they wanted to leave or come closer.

Two smaller dolphins approached from his side. They rose closer to the surface, on a trajectory to cross right in front of Dee.

He tried to catch her attention with a hand signal. When she noticed him and them, they were within her reach. Breaking the surface practically in her face, they took in air and dove.

A deep rumbly laugh escaped him when he saw the look of pure joy on her face.

The pod seemed fascinated with Dee. They swam close enough to Frank and he that Quinn was happy with his experience. But they concentrated on Dee. By the time the captain whistled, signaling them to swim back to the boat, she was talking softly to them and had given names to a few of her most persistent admirers.

Helping Dee onto the boat, Quinn realized she was shaking. One of the crew wrapped her in big towels, topped with a blanket. “Capt’n says to keep Miss Dee bundled up. She’s reacting to the excitement combined with too long in the water. We’re getting her hot tea.”

Quinn sat on the padded bench, Dee curled in his lap. “Oh, my god, Eddie,” she said between chattering teeth, “That was awesome…the most exciting… did you see…how close they got?”

“You bet I did.” He rubbed her arms and legs with a brisk motion. “Are you getting warmer, honey?”

“It was a struggle not to touch them. They’re so beautiful.” Tears rolled down her face. Ducking into the crook of his neck, she cried softly.

The captain put his crew in charge of weighing anchor, and setting sail while he made his way to the stern. “Are you okay, Miss Dee?”

She raised her head. “I’m fine, wonderful. Happy tears. I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

“Let you stay in the water too long. I couldn’t believe it. We need to bring you along on every cruise. You, beautiful lady, are a dolphin magnet. They love you. We’ll leave slowly, see if the pod wants to say good-bye.”

Over the captain’s shoulder, Quinn saw a large Spinner Dolphin leap from the water, twist his slender body three or four times, and dive back beneath the surface.

“Like that?” he asked, pointing.

“That’s it.”

“Is your camera still recording?” Quinn mentally crossed his fingers.

“Yes, sir.” More dolphins twisted above the water. “We’ll get it all, including this last part.”

After they were underway, with everyone dried off, they reapplied sunscreen, guzzled water, and munched on fresh fruit and salty snacks. The captain spoke through his headset.

“Next stop is the secluded beach. It’ll take us a while to get there but you’ll find the trip is worth it. Kipu Kai Beach is a totally isolated. A shoreline located at the foot of the mountains on our island’s southeast side. There’s a road leading to the beach, but it’s privately owned. The beach itself is a soft sand crescent with lush cliffs on three sides.”

“That sounds romantic.” Frank finished his soda.

“We can arrange to drop off a couple for a few hours or a full day,” the captain said.

Squinting in the tropical sun, Dee put on her sunglasses. “How does that work?”

“We provide a small camping toilet because there are no restroom facilities. On calm days, Kipu Kai is a wonderful spot for swimming and we bring snorkeling equipment and a big picnic basket. Today, we’re just looking.”

When Dee pressed herself to Quinn’s side, he tightened his arm around her. Her lips to his ear, she whispered, “I like the sound of that.”

His entire body stiffened.

“Eddie,” she breathed, “Imagine us spending the entire day, naked on a secluded beach.”

He was instantly hard as a rock.

Chapter 13

In the early evening, after she’d cleaned up and finished her report, DeAnna called Quinn to invite him and Frank to join her for a pre-dinner drink on the balcony of her suite.

Frank arrived at her door toting two bottles of wine. Quinn was right behind him with a pu pu tray.

“Thank you, guys,” she said, “very thoughtful.”

Frank poured the wine and sat in a rattan chair across from where she sat with Quinn on the matching loveseat. He gave the two of them a half-smile. “Have to tell you, buddy, it was driving me nuts listening to the old man rave about how much he loves you. He and his staff are eating up these reports.” He took a mouthful of wine. Glanced from Quinn to her, then back to Quinn.

“Now,” Frank said, “I realize it’s a reflection of Dee he really loves.”

“Whatever makes you feel better,” she retorted, curling up the corner of her mouth.

Frank zeroed in on her. “Tell me again, who do you work for?”

“Back off,” Quinn snapped.

“Thank you,” she said to Quinn. “I’ve got this.” With a penetrating look at Frank, she said, “There is no again. I never told you who I work for. Now, let’s change the subject.”

“One more question.”

She scowled at Frank, about ready to tear her hair out. Or his. “What?”

“Would you consider an offer to work for Whitney Group Investments? Dad says he’s willing to pay top dollar for talent like yours.”

Quinn had one eyebrow arched.

She took a deep, calming breath. Looking at this from a certain angle, it could be considered a compliment. “Please thank your father for me. But we all know he’s been reading Quinn’s reports, not mine. Therefore, he should be offering Quinn a position, not me. Hiring me wouldn’t be fair to your dad or the Whitney Company.”

“I’ll pass the word along,” Frank said with a brief nod. “But let me warn you, I know you’re talented. Also, we Whitney’s don’t take no for an answer. The old man won’t give up easily.”

Quinn raised his wine glass. “Where are we going for dinner?”

Frank downed the remainder of his wine. “Got a hot date with a flight attendant I met on the plane coming here.” He rose, gave them a roguish smile. “You two have fun tonight.”

Walking across the suite, he was already on a call, his phone pressed to his ear. From the middle of the room, he paused and said over his shoulder, “Don’t wait up, you two. See you at breakfast.”

The minute the main door clicked closed, Quinn took her wine and set both their glasses on the table. “I thought he’d never leave.” Sliding his arm around her shoulder, he leaned close.

Dodging his mouth, she said, “Wait one minute. Did you two decide on your itinerary for the remainder of the week?”

Quinn’s lips danced across her jaw and nibbled at the sensitive skin below her ear. “Mmm, I tried. Frank kept skirting around it. I don’t know what his plans are.”

“You know, if you need to—”

“Stop.” His head came up, his face stern. “I want you and I to continue going on tours, checking out places together. After I instructed the butler to include Frank, she left a new schedule. Which he didn’t share.” Quinn kissed the tip of her nose.

“You think we should continue to go along day to day?”

“Exactly.” He rose to his feet, lifting her with him until she stood in front of him. “Time to relocate.”

Before they could go anywhere, his lips settled on hers. For a few brief moments, the kiss was gentle. With only a subtle hint of the seduction to follow.

Quinn groaned and pulled her tighter into his arms. DeAnna’s body responded. Need, demanding and ruthless, consumed her. Pressing her body to his, she plunged her tongue into his mouth. Tightening her arms around his neck, she tried to climb him.

He matched her demand for demand. The kiss turned hot, deep, and wet. His tongue ravaged hers. Teeth nipped, playful and borderline painful. Yes.

“More,” she groaned.

His hands jerked at the hem of her blouse. She pulled her mouth away long enough for the garment to go up and over her head. Followed by his shirt.

“Inside,” she gasped, stumbling backward, and she fumbled to unfasten the waistband of his board shorts. The fabric sagged open on his hips. He pulled out his wallet before both the shorts and his boxers dropped to the floor. Tossing aside her bra, he stepped them both over the pile of clothing.

“Hurry.” She wiggled out of her shorts and panties. When they were gone, she rose up on tiptoe. With little jump, she wrapped her legs around his waist. “The bed.”

“Too far. Couch.”

They half fell, half collapsed onto the living room sofa. Quinn raised his head, pierced her with a look. “Don’t move.”

He slapped his wallet onto the table, slid out a condom packet. “Been dreaming all day about getting you alone.” Grabbing her wrists, he pushed her arms above her head. Kneeling between her spread legs, he rolled on protection. “My turn first.”

Leaning forward, Quinn kissed her until her toes curled. She could barely breathe when his open mouth moved across her cheek, and paused to lick and tease the sensitive skin under her ear. His fingers slid down her neck and circled one tight, aching nipple.

“Yes,” she moaned, arching her back. He tugged and massaged her breast while her lower body throbbed with each tug, desire pulsing deep inside her.

His mouth moved lower, leaving a wet trail to her other breast. Quinn’s tongue circled her neglected nipple, and made her squirm. Moving the hard peak of flesh into his mouth, he sucked hard.

“Oh yes.”

His fingers trailed across her abdomen and her thigh muscles quivered. Dipping one hand between her legs, he stroked her. When his mouth started to follow, she grabbed for his head. “Not this time.”

“Eddie, inside me. Now.” She tugged on his shoulders until he eased up and over her. Arching her hips, she offered herself. “Deep.”

He thrust deeply. “Perfect,” she groaned.

“You are,” he whispered. “Crazy about you.”

When he began to move, she locked her ankles at his back and moved with him. And loved his weight pressing on her.

“Eddie. Oh my god.” Every muscle in her body tensed as the orgasm gained strength. Heat rocked through her.

“Yes, now,” he gasped. “Right now.”

They moved together, until pleasure consumed them. And together, they shuttered with the release.

It left her boneless, mindless. Stroking his head, she tried to regain her breath.

When they finally moved to the bedroom, DeAnna cuddled against Quinn and sighed with contentment. He was sprawled flat on his back, one arm behind his head while the other stayed tightly wrapped around her.

“I think we missed dinner,” he murmured to the ceiling.

“There’s always room service.”

“About what I said…you know…during—”

“Don’t worry.” Her voice was upbeat, while her heart took a nose-dive. He was back-tracking already. “Nobody listens to pillow talk.”

“Well, you’d better listen. I said I’m crazy about you and I mean it. I’m not sure exactly what that means for the future. But we need to talk about how we can stay in touch…you know…after.”

He seemed to run down, run out of words. Maybe it was just as well. She shouldn’t listen to any more from Olivia’s big brother until she told him everything

The time had come to set the record straight with Major Quinn.

“I have a confession to make.” Tipping her chin up, she watched his face. Next to her, his muscles tightened and Quinn braced himself.

“I promised my boss, Mr. Martin. Gave my word I wouldn’t tell anyone my real name or the name of my employer—”

“I remember.”

“My real first name is Dee. DeAnna Drake. I’m one of your sister Olivia’s best friends and I know your fam—”

“Holy shit.” He shot up in bed, almost clocked her in the chin. “You’re DeAnna?”

“That’s me.”

“The missing college roommate. My baby sister’s best friend. The one who disappeared last year.” His voice grew deeper with each word.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Some friend. My little sister has been worried sick about you. She begged me to contact you, make sure you’re okay. Damn it. I’ve been calling—”

“I know. Your missed calls are on my phone. When I first arrived in Hawaii, I was embarrassed about the break-up with my ex. And how fast I left town. I avoided email for a week or so. I dreaded having to explain over and over. Then my job got so busy, I barely had time for anything. So—”

“There’s no excuse for dropping off the planet. Ollie’s been frantic and—”

“Quinn, please. Slow down for a minute. I’ve been e-mailing Ollie and several others all along. Short messages instead of long ones. No social media. You know your sister loves to dramatize things.”

He sank back onto the pillow. “I can’t believe you’re Ollie’s little college friend.”

Biting her lip, she welcomed the new topic. Here was something she could rag him about. And she led with attitude. “Little college friend? I’m far from little.”

“That’s how I’ve always thought of you. In the sorority with my baby sister.”

“Baby? You’re insane. I was a senior the year your sister started as a freshman. I’m twenty-seven, and you, old man?”

“Thirty-two.” Quinn said.

“Oh my god,” she squealed. “Geriatric.” He rolled on top of her and stopped her insults with his mouth.

After a late dinner and more sex, just to prove he wasn’t decrepit, they dozed on the wide expanse of bed. Quinn’s breathing evened and deepened. The man had the ability to fall asleep fast.

She watched him sleep. She could easily fall in love with Major Edmund Quinn. Damn. How long had she known him? Did the time she knew of him through Ollie count?

How important was time together? Time getting to know a person? Shared experiences? Take her gradual affection for her ex—Brent. She’d been slow and cautious about deepening their relationship. So much so, Brent had grown impatient and then angry. Yet, despite all the time involved, the time spent going at a snail’s pace, she’d been wrong about her feelings for him.

Maybe moving along at Mach speed with Quinn was the better way to go.

Chapter 14

DeAnna stretched, blinked open sleepy eyes and discovered she was alone in the big bed. It was early. Checking her phone, she read the note from Quinn: ‘Hey beautiful. Early workout-main gym. If you get this before 8, join me. Or I’ll pick you up at 8:30 for chow.’

Beside the bed, the house phone message light blinked. She accessed the voice message. Hey, good morning, this is Frank. My ETD is o-nine- hundred hours. Before I go, could you join me for coffee at the Lava Garden Terrace? I have some last-minute business to discuss.”

ETD was short for estimated time of departure. Was Frank leaving? And why did he want to meet without Quinn? Something you’ll never know if you don’t hustle.

Grateful it would be a sightseeing and beach day ahead, she hurried into shorts and a top, slid on sandals. Wrestling her hair into a low ponytail, she skipped make-up and headed downstairs.

At a corner table, Frank stood, and pulled out her chair. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Good morning. I was surprised to get your message.”

Before sitting back down, he signaled the waiter. Then asked her, “Breakfast?”

“Just coffee,” she said to both Frank and the eager young server.

Frank sat hunched over his silverware. “I enjoyed our day yesterday. You’re a beautiful, talented woman and obviously interested in one of my best friends, so personally off-limits.”

Frank waited while the server poured coffee, then said, “Time is limited so I’ll get to business. My father is determined to recruit you. For that reason, he’s given me permission to share several very confidential pieces of information with you.”

“You know I’m not at liberty to reciprocate.”

“I do. Not necessary. I already know the name of the corporation you work for. I can guess it was wonder-boy Martin who sent you here. I’m not certain if your chain is considering acquiring this resort.”

She maintained her poker face.

“This hotel,” Frank said, “the Fragrant Gardens of Kauai, is on shaky financial ground but having a manger like you would go a long way toward balancing their budget, to bringing them back.”

She raised one shoulder in a minuscule shrug. Where did the Whitney Group get their information?

“Dad’s associates, with myself included, are familiar with Martin’s tactics. Therefore, we’re assuming you’re on a fast-track to a promotion.”

Frank leaned forward. “The Whitney Group was approached to bail-out your employer’s Maui resort. Dad has made the decision to decline. Even with a huge infusion of cash plus drastic changes in management, that hotel will very likely go belly-up in six months.”

She uncurled her fists, stretched her fingers. She didn’t know Mr. Martin very well, but wow.

“This highly confidential information comes from Whitney Group Investments with our best wishes for your future success. We want you on our team. But even if you decide not to join us, we have your best interests at heart.” He took out a business card, handed it across the table. “If you change your mind, call any time and we’ll set up an interview.”

She stared at the card. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Dee Smith.”

As Frank left the terrace, she checked her watch. It was too late to join Quinn. She had a sudden urge to fly back to Oahu, now.

No, she’d learned her lesson about running away. From here on out, she was back to being the woman who faced big problems, head on. She’d finish this assignment, ace this one, and then return to Oahu on Sunday. Find out the truth about what was going on with Mr. Martin and with the Maui resort on Monday morning.

To save time, Quinn showered and shaved in the gym. His hair was still damp when he knocked on DeAnna’s door.

“Good workout?” she asked, right before he grabbed her and smothered her face with kisses. He ended the barrage at her lips, with a slow kiss that was all about tongue and arousal.

“Yep,” he breathed, coming up for air. “I’m ready.” His hands slid down to cup her butt. “Let’s go back to bed.” He tickled her earlobe. “Frank’s gone, we can stay in bed all day.”

“Not today. For this morning’s custom VIP tour, we need to arrive at the first stop early, the parking lot is full by 10:30.”

“Too many people. Let’s skip that one.”

Pointing to a beach bag on the coffee table, she laughed. “Grab your swim shorts and we’ll share the bag. You can drive. First stop is a beach.”

They found a parking space and she led him to a photo spot over- looking the long crescent of sand. “Would you take a picture with your camera?”

“Sure. What’s so special about Lumahai Beach?”

“The movie South Pacific was filmed here.”

He nodded and clicked a couple of shots. Then glanced over to her. Why did she have a frown line across her forehead?

“You have no idea what I’m talking about,” she said.

“I recognize the name. A Broadway show, right? From before we were born—after World War II. Then a big movie, again before our time. And finally, a TV movie.”

“Good answer. Also, several of the songs are classics, the story references Kauai, and the anti-racism is blunt and unapologetic.”

“Then I’m really happy we’re sharing it. Let’s go to Bali Ha’i.”

He dodged as she punched for his shoulder. “Faker,” she said, “You do know South Pacific.”

Bravely snaking an arm around her waist, he said, “Ollie forced me to listen to a few of the songs. I really liked There’s Nothing Like a Dame.”

They swam in the ocean and baked for an hour in the Hawaiian sun. Feeling like a lobster, he sat up on his beach towel. “Stick a fork in me. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes. I’m starved. Next stop, authentic Hawaiian lunch.”

He jumped up, shook out his towel. “What a woman.”

The restaurant was a dive. Or maybe he was spoiled by the resort. It was dark, smelled like old beer. DeAnna chose a padded booth deep in one corner.

“The primary reason we’re here is for the food,” she said. He raised one eyebrow and she snorted. “Don’t be such a snob. The kitchen is immaculate and the food melts in your mouth. And let’s order an adult beverage. I just realized by trying out this “tour” on you I might have stepped over a line.”

“If you think I’ll steal your ideas for this tour, I can swear to you I’m off duty today. Confirmed by my patron, Mr. Whitney, Sr. For today, and today only, I won’t repeat a single thing I see or hear. This entire deal, the beach and eating at this dicey hole in the wall? It’s all yours. Okay?”

“Great. Tomorrow we’ll go back to being competitors.”

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Sure, I guess. At least as far as your scruples are concerned. I’ve never thought of us as being in competition.” He traced a fingertip across her bottom lip.

When she didn’t return his smile, he changed tactics. Narrowing his eyes, leering, he said, in a deep, menacing tone. “Be warned, Missy. Tonight, when the clock strikes midnight, Quinn the evil spy returns. I’ll plunder your thoughts and pillage your tempting body.”

That had her laughing. “Just confirming, so I know the rules. That way, I can enjoy what’s left of my Kauai adventure.”

He smiled. But her words sat like a cannonball in the pit of his stomach. Her what’s left emphasized the fact of their time limit. Well, they did have one. They both faced an end date to their assignments. But after Kauai, he was determined they’d see each other. Be together. Soon.

How could he bear parting from Dee?

Maybe Ollie could help him think of an idea. He should try to call her today, anyway. Reassure baby sister that big brother knew the exact location of her bestie, DeAnna.

She took a long drink of her Mai Tai. Then signaled the bartender. “Let’s each order a different meal and share?”

Quinn eyed the beer stains on the floor. Damn good thing he loved—er—trusted this woman. He was about to place his intestinal well-being in her hands.

Dinner that night at a one of the resort restaurants might be safer, but Quinn judged it wasn’t as delicious as lunch. That afternoon they’d stopped at several more beaches and a waterfall. When they returned to the suite, DeAnna whipped through her report, then created a template and Go Native marketing plan for a VIP tour which included most of the beaches they’d seen, and the grubby bar/restaurant.

“You sure about that?” he teased.

“Tourists love local color.”

They had one more Fragrant Garden lounge to check out. The hostess greeted them and sat them at a tiny round table on the edge of the dance floor. As soon as Quinn ordered their drinks, the piano player in the small band tipped his hat. Quinn got to his feet. “May I have this dance?”

Looking bewildered, DeAnna stood and put her hand in his.

“They’re playing our song,” he explained.

“They aren’t playing any song.”

A male vocalist stepped to the microphone and sang the first line to Some Enchanted Evening.

He eased Dee into his embrace. While they moved, he held her close and whispered what lyrics he knew in her ear. After the song’s big finish, he escorted her back to the table.

She kept her hand in his. “Wonderfully romantic. You didn’t know this movie?”

“I learned a lot from Siri. He even helped me downloaded the sound track. We figured this for your favorite song.”

“I’m seriously impressed. And turned on. Shall we go?” she murmured. “Maybe tonight we should give the bed in your suite a test flight?”

His heart pounding, his mouth stretched in a doofus grin, he signaled for the check. It was official. He had it bad for his baby sister’s best friend. He loved being with her. On a beach, on a dance floor and anywhere naked. However, the overwhelming need to help Dee, to protect and take care of her? That part was all new to him.

“I’m ready,” he declared. “However, I feel I should point out, we haven’t looked at the menu, haven’t tasted the drinks.”

She fisted his shirt front, pulled his mouth to hers. After a mind-blowing kiss, she said, “Get the drinks to go, I’ll steal a menu. We’ll meet by the potted palm.”

Chapter 15

DeAnna awoke early the next morning, squinting in the dim light of Quinn’s bedroom. Judging by the slow, even breathing coming from the body next to her, he was still sound asleep. Starting to roll over, she winced. Last night’s sexual Olympics had challenged several new muscle groups. She needed a soak in a hot tub.

And these bathrooms were ideal.

Easing out of bed, she padded into the ensuite, and quietly closed the door behind her. Quinn’s bathroom, an exact copy of hers, was spacious. A room designed for serious pampering. Lavishly tiled and seductively mirrored, it offered a temptation to linger, to relax.

Sitting on the marble ledge surrounding the jetted tub, she started the water flowing, then adjusted the temperature.

Today was her turn at ‘surprise tour day’ and she’d planned a sex-filled whopper for Quinn. A customized, full-day tour that included—not counting the time spent in his Strike Eagle—several of the Major’s favorite activities. Her lips lifted in a smug smile. Anticipation sent zings of excitement dancing through her body.

With the butler’s help, she’d located the helicopter pilot and tour company she’d been hearing about. This morning, she and Quinn would be treated to a private air tour of Kauai’s famous shore line. Then the pilot would deliver them to a secret, secluded beach for a day of nude swimming and sex on the sand.

They were strapped in the helicopter, nearing the end of the air portion of the tour. When the pilot mentioned landing, DeAnna bit back a grin.

Quinn’s brows drew together. “Where are you setting us down?”

“On the sand.”

“Seriously? What about brown out?”

“Got more than my share of sandbox experience. Iraq, Afghanistan. And Babe’s engine is equipped with a top of the line sand filter. Since the spot where I’m taking you two gets used on a daily basis, we’ve created an unofficial landing pad.”

“Good news.” Quinn nodded approval.

“You fly?”

“Back seat. I’m a Strike Eagle WSO.”

“Damn.” The pilot grinned. “The Babe and I are honored to have you and your lady onboard, sir.”

As they approached the inlet, the pilot pointed. “Your supplies have already been delivered. Help yourself to everything. It’ll all be cleaned and flown out after you leave.”

Quinn’s jaw dropped. “You’re leaving us here. Nobody else around?”

“Surprise,” she said, gripping Quinn’s arm.

“Enjoy.” The pilot softly cleared his throat. “We’ve included two critical items. Camp toilet and SAT phone. The toilet is set up behind the tall palms.”

“Luxury,” Quinn muttered.

“And the phone?” she asked.

“Plastic container at your feet,” the pilot said. “Pick up is scheduled for sixteen-hundred, 4 o’clock. Any emergency, call dispatch. Call if you see visitors, a boat or aircraft gets too close. We’re local and have privacy agreements with all the tour companies.”

“How can you enforce that?” she asked.

“This inlet is private property. We guarantee your privacy.”

“All that stuff for two people?” Quinn pointed to the colorful pile of goodies below—ice chests, bins, boxes, beach chairs, umbrellas, and what looked like the makings of a sunshade, neatly stacked near the wood planked landing pad.

“Hey,” she huffed. “I chose the luxury deserted island experience.”

The pilot laughed. Quinn adjusted his headset mic and kissed her. “That’s my girl. Why rough it when you can go for conspicuous consumption?”

On the ground and standing at a ‘safe-distance’, DeAnna shaded her eyes and waved good-bye to the pilot as the chopper lifted off.

Quinn slung an arm around her shoulder. “Decisions, decisions. Do we unpack first? Or get naked and go for a dirty swim?”

“Tough choice.” She kissed him but wiggled free before it got too intense. “Compromise. Let’s make one trip to create shade. Bring the chairs and set up the umbrella. Then we’ll strip and swim.”

“Where do you want the shade?”

She pointed to a central spot on the white sand. Quinn grabbed two folding chairs, the giant umbrella, a bin marked towels, and marched double-time through the sand.

After a look at the packing list, she was hefting the blue ice chest—assorted cold drinks—when Quinn hurried back to her. “Let me get that.”

She frowned at him. “I’m certainly more than capabl—”

“I know you can handle it. But, honey,” he said, leering at her, “you’d better conserve your strength.”

She shoved the plastic bin at his chest.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Can you track down the sun block? A few of my body parts have never seen sun like this. You’ll need to slather goop all over me.”

“I’ll find it.”

Standing in the oasis of shade they’d created under the wide umbrella, she turned and faced Quinn. Slowly, provocatively she lifted her top up and over her head. Unhooking her bra, she tossed it to her chair.

“Oh baby,” he groaned.

Sliding off her shorts and panties together, she glanced at him. “Major, you are way overdressed.” The man went to Mach-speed, and was naked in a flash. After rolling on a condom, he reached for her, but she dodged his hands. “Hurry up,” she shouted over her shoulder, and raced for the ocean.

The cool water didn’t bring down the heat throbbing through her body. She was almost chest deep when Quinn’s arm curled over her waist. Spinning her around to face him, their lips crashed together. The kisses were hungry, devouring. His hands were everywhere, teasing, kneading, stroking. She locked her legs around his hips and hung on.

“I need you,” he groaned. A wave broke over her shoulders and smacked Quinn’s face with salty seawater. Coughing, he laughed and blinked like crazy.

“Stand sideways.” It was all she could think to do. “So we can both see the waves coming.”

They experimented with positions until she shivered with need and desire. After surviving several smaller waves, Quinn decided they could balance better on their own feet. “Keep one foot in the sand.”

He gripped her butt, tipped her hips, and slid home. Finally. The fullness, the pressure made her toes curl. Moments later a powerful orgasm gripped her, consumed her. She drove her fingertips into his shoulders, threw back her head, and screamed his name.

Quinn maintained his rhythm, filling her again and again. Another mind-numbing orgasm, hot on the first one, turned every bone in her body liquid. She sagged against his solid chest, his muscled arms straining to hold her. He stiffened, groaned and emptied into her. They toppled over and sank together.

“Get to dry land,” Quinn choked. “Before we both drown.” Arms around each other’s waist they staggered to the shade.

Quinn collapsed in his sand chair. “Water?”

“In the blue ice-chest. I’ll break out the towels and sunblock.”

Head bent over the ice chest, he surveyed the drinks. “How about I open a bottle of champagne?”

“Sounds lovely. After I get some water in me.”

Returning the champagne to the ice, he opened two water bottles and handed one to her. He squirted sunscreen on his hand, started spreading it up his legs. “We’ll save the fun parts for each other?”

“Absolutely.” Watching Quinn smooth lotion on his sculpted body, her mouth went dry.

“If we get all this stuff out, they clean it up and take it away?” He handed her the tube of sunscreen.

“Yes,” she said, polishing off her water. “What are you thinking?”

“We should use the pop-up.” He swiveled to glance back. “Behind the umbrella. Like a storage area. Organize everything we might use over here.”

“Good idea.” Rising to her feet, she felt the heat of his gaze. “We’ll need to keep remembering the sunblock.”

He stood, kissed her with only their lips touching. “My thinking exactly.” Quinn squirted more lotion in both their hands.

Foreplay got slick and smelled like coconuts.

They ended up spread eagled on their towels, gasping for air. Finally, he rolled his head toward her. Extending a finger, Quinn stoked lazy circles around her nipple. “I love knowing we have all day to make love on the beach, swim naked in the ocean.”

“While I admire a man with ambition,” she teased. “Any more like that last time and we’ll kill each other.”

He dropped a kiss on her ear and sat up.

“Let’s see what toys they left for us.”

They opened the pop-up sunshade and placed the bins beneath it. Quinn whooped when he uncovered a miniature volleyball net and ball.

“Great,” she cheered. “I’ll kick your butt.”

“Damn, not counting the women at Seymour Johnson, you could be the most competitive female I’ve ever met.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily. But since I’m damned motivated already, it could be exhausting on a vacation.”

“I don’t challenge you in bed.”

“Sure you do. But in the best possible way. I keep thinking up new ways to please you. Which turns me on, like I’ve never experienced before.”

The nude volleyball game ended in a sweaty, sandy tie. They swam, perfected their sex-in-the-surf technique, and retreated to lay facing each other under the umbrella. “The ocean breeze is wonderful,” she sighed.

“What made you choose Hawaii?” Quinn asked. “The chance to follow a dream of living in paradise?”

She smiled. “No, it was the timing of the job offer. My idea of paradise is North Carolina. I lived in Chapel Hill for four years and loved the trees, the mountains, proximity to the Outer Banks, the people, change of seasons, everything.”

“All good points.”

“Don’t get me wrong.” She lifted one shoulder. “These islands are breathtaking. Each one is spectacular, with a unique beauty all its own. The job in Oahu came up at the perfect point in my life when I felt like escaping reality. So, I did.”

“Okay, we know North Carolina is your dream location, what’s your dream job?”

“I’ve always known that hospitality is a specialized, tough career and I love it. Working in Hawaii, I’ve expanded my horizons to include large resort management. Someday, I’d like to find an up-scale resort stateside, manage it, and get my MBA.”

“Ambitious and competitive. Weren’t you living in Greenville, South Carolina?”

“Before Hawaii? Yes. Near my parents.” She bit her lip, gathered her courage. “I love my parents dearly. However, the time I’ve spent here, so far from them and the rest of my family, has reinforced my need for more independence. When I go back, I need to find a resort far enough from my tribe that they can’t simply drop-in. Visits are fine, but they were in my business.”

“How far away is far enough? California? New England?”

“No, I’d stay in the south. And thanks to your offer of help, I think I can learn to run a resort with a golf course. The south is full of those.”

“Especially the Carolinas.”

She grinned. “Thanks for pointing that out.”

“My pleasure.”

“What about you and Uncle Sam. Will you be bouncing around the US? From base to base?”

“Nope. Except for deployments and training exercises, I’ve put down roots in Goldsboro.”

“That’s good to know. And I like the sound of permanency.”

If she hoped to enjoy roots sooner rather than later, then she’d better reconsider the promotion to Maui. It sounded wonderful coming from Mr. Martin. Except she wasn’t certain she was ready to call Maui her permanent home.

If not, then her next job change needed to be well planned. First, she’d do her research. Compile a short list of ideal resorts, located in the south, but not too close to the family. Then she’d orchestrate the interview process, and slowly narrow down the list.

Still, the Maui resort was the ideal spot to learn about managing a resort with a golf course.

Chapter 16

Quinn rolled onto his stomach. Glanced at Dee. She’d gone awfully quiet. Propping himself on his forearms, he grasped one of her hands, played with her slender fingers. God, he loved touching her.

“I have a question,” she said, piercing him with those intense blue eyes. Tempted to tease, her expression checked the impulse. Better keep it serious.

“Shoot.”

“Before Frank left, he extended a job offer from his dad. Frank Senior wants me to work at Whitney Investments.”

“Doing what?”

“I’m not exactly sure. We didn’t get that far. I imagine it could be evaluating properties, snooping around resorts for him to invest in.” She licked her lips and his brain blipped.

“Uh, would you like doing that?”

“Not if it involves as much travel as I think it will. After you mentioned roots, I’ve been thinking how much that appeals to me. Getting back to the south. Finding a big resort and setting down career roots.”

He got to his knees, crawled to the blue chest, and opened the bottle of champagne. He handed DeAnna a flute of bubbly, cold wine.

“Is there a question in there?”

“I guess not. Just wanted your reaction.”

“I think you’d get real tired of travel.” His gaze swept her body head to toe.

Under the light tan, a blush spread across her face. “Ed?”

“Simply enjoying the view.”

“As I recall, Ollie said you always preferred blondes.”

“Only in my callow youth,” he said with a solemn nod. “These days, I find the long-haired brunette, sexy-snoopy-type irresistibly attractive.”

She choked.

He lifted his champagne glass. “Let’s drink to you. Irresistible.”

After a huge picnic lunch, they waited to go back in the ocean. Quinn, his eyes closed, was stretched out in the sand chair. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this relaxed. Or content. “Is it time for more sunscreen?”

“Since you and I both know how that ends, not yet.”

“We’ve already set up the net and there’s badminton stuff. Up for a game?”

“Too strenuous. Later.”

“I’ll add it to our agenda.” He swallowed a big yawn. “They packed snorkeling equipment. We could hunt up more dolphins.”

“Wasn’t that an amazing adventure? I’ll remember it ‘til the day I die. A bucket-lister for me.”

“Me, too.” His mind drifted. “Even better,” he mumbled, “when shared with the woman you love.”

The silence was deafening. Even the surf quieted. He cracked open one eye, just a slit. Had she heard him?

Slowly, Dee sat up. “Could you repeat that last part?”

Both eyes open wide, he sat up, too. “The way I let it sort of slip out, that was cowardly. Let me say it again. I love you, DeAnna Drake. I’m crazy in love with you.” He watched her eyes. “Don’t even think about running.”

“Where would I go?”

“Not funny.”

“You’re right, sorry.” She sat straighter. “Word of honor, I’m never running again. And after hearing you say you love me, I’m not about to go anywhere. We need to talk about this. Please explain to me how you know it’s love.”

His temper flared. “You mean instead of a hot vacation romance? Simple lust? An extended one night stand?”

“Please, Quinn, don’t get huffy. It’s a legitimate question. How can you love someone you’ve only known for a week?”

“While the timing is technically true, don’t you dare forget about the Olivia connection. I’m remembering all kinds of stuff about you.”

Like what?”

“Is your favorite color still blue?” She nodded. “And your favorite ice cream is rocky road? You like your rib eye steak medium rare, yet would rather eat seafood. You’re not ashamed to tell people you read romance novels, love chick flicks, cry at Hallmark commercials. How am I doing so far?”

“Your memory is excellent. I still have serious doubts about love at first sight. I do know I’m crazy about you. I want to continue seeing you. But, in love?”

“DeAnna, I was attracted to you in the Plumeria VIP lounge. Then, on the plane, I knew I was falling. Remember? I was down on one knee, picking up the brochures I knocked out of your hand. It hit me the minute I knelt beside your seat and looked into those awesome blue eyes of yours.”

“No. How could you—?”

“You asked, sweetheart. Now I need you to listen, at least hear me out. Please. I’ve been where you are. I scoffed, I laughed. Hell, I flat-out ridiculed any guy who claimed they’d fallen in love at first sight. Impossible. Would never happen. I didn’t believe it could happen. No, wait. Stronger than that: I positively knew there was no such thing.”

She watched him carefully. Appeared to weigh each word. While he was compelled to speak straight from the heart. Without hesitation, without censoring.

He took a breath. “Let’s put this a different way. How do you feel about destiny? Fate?”

She shrugged. Yet, there was a gleam in her eyes.

“There I was, moping, just hanging out off base, when Frank called. This trip was spur of the moment, all a last-minute deal. Fate.”

He tapped a finger on her shoulder. “You know as well as I do, I have no business being here. This assignment doesn’t fit any of my skill sets. Hotels, tours, reviews, the entire hospitality industry? I have zero professional experience. How did all this happen to bring the two of us together? Blind chance? Or destiny.”

She stared at him. “What are you saying? Both of us here at the same time is part of some cosmic plan?”

“Fate. Destiny. Whatever you want to call it. But no matter how it all came together, pre-arranged or random, you’ve got to admire and respect the plan. Otherwise the string of coincidences between the two of us will drive you crazy.”

DeAnna compressed her lips, remained silent. Her body moved slightly closer. She was listening.

“I can’t come this far,” he said, “feeling what I feel, and then simply walk away. I’m not leaving you until we both agree to see where this could take us. Find out what these feelings could mean for us.”

Brows raised, she asked, “How does that work in the real world? You’re going to run out of leave. After the weekend, I’m returning to Oahu. Once I file my last report, I’ll make the move to Maui.”

“Maybe what I should have said is, we need to get you settled. Then we’ll promise to stay in contact. I can extend my leave until you decide whether to accept the promotion in Maui.”

“And that’s how we figure out what’s happening?”

“I know already. I love you. It’s you we need to get onboard.”

“Onboard—what?”

“DeAnna, I love you to distraction. We were made for each other. We just need you to realize you feel the same about me.”

“Sometimes you scare me.”

“The whole deal scares the hell out of me.”

DeAnna applied lip gloss, rubbed her lips together. She’d showered, tried to rest, then began dressing for dinner with Quinn. The phone in the suite rang as she walked through a spritz of perfume. Who would call her on the landline? Hurrying to the living room, she picked up the cordless handset.

“Hello.”

“Ms. Drake?”

She hesitated. Her name here was Smith.

“Ms. Drake, this is Mr. Martin.”

Oh lord. She hadn’t recognized his voice. “Yes, Mr. Martin. Sorry, I hesitated. I’m used to the name Smith.”

“I’ve reviewed each of the reports you sent.”

She waited for more but he was silent. “Yes, sir. I received your message commending me on my paperwork.”

“While they are comprehensive and detailed as far as they go, they lack two critical components I specifically sent you to Kauai to get.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t play stupid or ignorant with me. I told you to get us the complete list of vendor names and contacts. As well as the pricing structure between each of the vendors and Fragrant Gardens.”

Sir, I never agreed—”

“I don’t want to hear your lies or excuses. To date, you’ve failed to obtain any of the data you were sent to Kauai to collect. Data you assured me you would get. Do you have that information to send to me?”

“No sir, I do not.”

“Then you’re fired. Your termination is effective immediately. A final paycheck will be mailed to you. After all the expenses of this past week are deducted. Expenses that include the hotel, flights, spa, tours, meals, clothing, any miscellaneous.”

“Wait, how am I supposed—?”

“My assistant has changed your return airline flight reservation to tonight.”

“She what?”

“Your ticket to Honolulu will remain valid until the airline’s last flight tonight. After that, the ticket expires. Miss that flight and you can swim back to Waikiki for all I care.” He disconnected.

DeAnna stood for a moment, stunned, the phone still pressed to her ear. After a moment, Martin’s final threat sank in. DeAnna didn’t have the extra money to spend on a new ticket back to Honolulu.

Besides, Mr. Martin owed her that much. She’d fight about the money for the rest of the week when she got to Oahu.

Could she make it to make to the airport in time? She had to. It was imperative she catch the last flight.

Chapter 17

Quinn pressed his hand to the glass-fronted door of the florist’s display cooler. He’d ducked into the lobby shop to buy a new lei for DeAnna. And couldn’t decide between the aromatic plumerias or one strung with classy orchids.

In his pocket, his phone vibrated. Caller ID read: Olivia.

“Hey baby sis. How are you?” He glanced at his watch, did the mental calculation. “It’s after midnight in Greenville. What’s up?”

“I’m dying for a DeAnna update. Have you got anything?”

“As a matter of fact, drama queen, I’ve got amazing news for you.”

“Awesome. Tell me everything. I’m so sick and tired of DeAnna putting me off. Right about now, I’m considering hopping a plane.”

“No, don’t do that.” Quinn’s phone chimed with another call. He checked Caller ID again. Dee.

“Sorry, Ollie,” he said, “I need to get—”

“Stop.” Olivia’s voice rose to a shrill demand. “Don’t you dare hang up on me. I mean it.”

Damn it. “Calm down, peanut. I’ll let the other call go to voice mail. Listen baby sis, it’s DeAnna calling me. I met her, she’s here, at the same resort.”

“What?” That word came out as a full-fledged shriek. He jerked the phone away from his ringing ear.

“Damn, Ollie. You’ll ruin my hearing.”

“Tell me everything. Instantly. When did you two meet? Why hasn’t she called me?”

“One question at a time. Let me pay for this.” He handed over his credit card, accepted the receipt, and put the phone back to his ear.

“Sweetie, it’s dinner time here. Let me give you the abbreviated version for now and I promise, big bro word of honor, I’ll call back soon with all the details.”

How much could he share and not get into X-rated territory?

He told Ollie about the first meeting on the plane. Detailed their assignments, DeAnna’s need to keep her last name a secret. “So, I’ve known her for a week. We’ve been sightseeing and taking tours together all along. I didn’t know who she was.”

“Talk about unbelievably spooky. How could you not recognize my best friend?”

“Ollie, I had no reason to memorize DeAnna’s face in your crowd photos. I always knew that someday you’d introduce me to her.”

“Tell the truth. You never looked at my pictures.”

“I did so. Are you going to tell me you recognized Steve the first time you met him in the flesh?”

“Absolutely. I’d have known him anywhere. From the millions of pics of the two of you. Duh. Not to mention on Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, Instagram, flickr—”

“Enough. This is different.”

“Yeah, right. Any chance DeAnna’s coming home?”

“You need to talk to her about that. I can’t—”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.” His sister’s volume was back to full blast.

He flinched. “Ollie, I know you’re upset. You need to crank it down. I’m sure DeAnna has good reasons.”

“You’d know better than me. I’m only her bestie. Screw it. I’m calling her right now.”

“Ollie, wait. Give me ten minutes. DeAnna just called. Let me find out what she wants. Then you call her.”

“Ten minutes. Not a millisecond more.”

“Love you.”

“Prove it.”

He swiped the screen on his phone. Two missed calls, one voice mail. Shit. Starting across the lobby, he listened to the edge of panic in DeAnna’s recorded voice.

“Mr. Martin called. He demanded I get confidential vendor names, contacts and pricing from Fragrant Garden. When I refused, he fired me. For my airline ticket to Oahu to be valid, I need to catch the last flight this evening. I couldn’t reach you, so I instructed the desk to let you into the suite to get your things. Ed, I have to leave right now.” Her voice hitched. His heart broke in two. “I’ll try calling you from the airport.”

Blood thundering in his head, he kicked into high gear. And discovered the first thing to go was his civility. He cut to the front of the line at the front desk. Ignoring the grumbling, he demanded Dee’s keycard.

He raced to the VIP floor, grabbed his rental car paperwork, and the valet claim-check. Outside the main entrance, he cut the line again. The young valet must have recognized Quinn’s desperate look. Flinging open the driver’s side door, the valet scrambled out before Quinn could yank him out.

Dodging the slamming car door, the valet shouted, “Be careful.”

When he nearly sideswiping two cars, Quinn was forced to settle. At least enough to access the GPS.

Trying to connect a hands-free phone call, he came close to losing it.

DeAnna’s phone went straight to voice mail.

Shit, shit. If she got through airport security, before he caught up to her? He wouldn’t be allowed to go any further. Resort desks and valets were one thing. TSA turned nasty when people tried to-passed security.

Finally, fate tossed him a break. A parking spot opened in the first row. As close to the terminal as he could hope to get. He pulled in, leapt from the car and ran flat out for the building. Once inside, he maintained the same pace toward Security. With the ATF check-point in sight, his phone rang.

“DeAnna. Honey, where are you?” Stepping aside, he smiled at the frowning agent, and scanned the area.

“I’m through security, on my way to the gate. The phone app says my flight’s already boarding.”

“Dee, I’m sorry about Mr. Martin, about your job. But we need to talk. Work this out. Do you have to leave right this minute?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Tell me you’re not running from me.”

“I’m running for the last flight to Honolulu. My last chance for a free flight.”

“Come back. Let me pay for another ticket. Or Mr. Whitney will be happy—”

“Quinn, I won’t take money from you or Frank’s dad. This flight is part of my employment. I’m using this ticket. And there’s no way jerk Martin can make me repay it.”

“Screw him. You should be grateful he terminated you.”

“I am. Except I wanted to be the one to quit, not get fired. And not before I made a decision to move someplace else.”

“DeAnna, I love you. I care about you.”

“Edmund Quinn, listen. Try to think of this as moving up our schedule. I’m entitled to take the free flight back to Oahu.” He heard a flight attendant in the background. “Oh, Eddie, the real world intruded on us today.”

Adrenaline made his ears buzz. More like the world crash-landed right on top of them. He held his breath, terrified the next words out of DeAnna’s mouth would shatter his heart.

She sighed. “I’m only going as far as Oahu. Will you come after me?”

“Hell, yes.” His heart heard her words while his brain tried to catch up.

Dee talked fast, “I’ll text you my address in Honolulu. Finish up your assignment for Mr. Whitney, then come get me.”

“As fast as I can. Honey?”

“Yes?”

“For heaven’s sake, please be there.” Refusing to disconnect, he listened to background noises until the call cut off.

Quinn found a relatively quiet corner and made his calls from the public terminal. The time difference wasn’t as bad to the west coast.

“Mr. Whitney, I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I have urgent business in Honolulu and need to leave Kauai in the morning. I—”

“From what Frank tells me, I’m guessing your business involves the brilliant woman I’m desperate to hire. Maybe you could put in a good word for me?”

“You don’t need my endorsement, sir. I’m certain DeAnna will be in touch either way.”

“That’s all I ask. And thank you, Major, for your valuable contributions. Thanks to you, and the inspiration of the lovely lady, I have outstanding reports, tour ideas and marketing plans. I got a lot more than my money’s worth. Don’t worry about leaving in the morning, the VIP butler will change your ticket. Good luck to you both, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Ollie’s phone was busy so he left a voice message. “I’m at the airport. Going to change my departure. Ollie, I’m in love with your best friend, DeAnna. And first thing tomorrow morning, I’m going after her. If all goes well, we’ll call you together from her apartment. If not, I’ll call from the nearest bar. Until then, fingers crossed little sis.”

He called the butler, turned in the rental car, and took the shuttle back to the resort. After packing and double checking both suites for forgotten items, he returned to the florist shop for a container to transport DeAnna’s lei.

Finally, he scoured the stores for one last personal souvenir. Just in case DeAnna was—no, he gave his head a rough shake. She’d be waiting for him.

Signaling to the clerk, he hefted a table-top sculpture with glass Spinner dolphins in different stages of leaping, twisting, and diving back into the ocean-blue base.

“I’ll bet you recommend shipping this one?” He raised one eyebrow.

“Yes, sir. We’ll guarantee it, if we pack it.”

“Sold.” His mission tonight was choosing mementos the two of them would share. Until they could return to Kauai again, together.

It was past noon the following day when the cab dropped Quinn at DeAnna’s apartment building. Apartment 301. Gripping his suitcase and shopping bags, he eyed the stairs and thanked heaven the dolphins had been shipped.

He took the stairs two at a time. Rounding the corner to the third floor, he spotted her in the open doorway.

“DeAnna Drake?” Dropping his suitcase and bags, he scooped her into his arms. Smothering her answer, he kissed her. Kept kissing her until he made himself dizzy. Finally, he backed off just enough to focus on her face.

“I love you, DeAnna.” Her lips were moist and puffy from his kisses, her blue eyes glistened with tears. “Thank you for being here.”

DeAnna stuck out her bottom lip in a sexy, defiant pout. “I told you I would be.” Her lips curved into a smile. “I love you, Edmund Quinn.”

“Good. Wait, you love me?”

“I do.” She laughed. “Come in, bring your luggage.”

Inside, he kicked the door closed and dropped everything. Again. He held her in a tight embrace. “Honey, you gave me a real scare. Will you think I’m an animal if we go straight to your bedroom, make love?”

“Yes. But I’ll still love you.”

“Seriously, we’re okay?”

“Not if you don’t get naked in the next two minutes. Then make me lose my mind. We’ll talk after.”

“What a woman. No wonder I adore you.”

Chapter 18

Her toes pointed, feet sticking out over the end of the mattress, DeAnna stretched and yawned. Indulging in a soft groan of satisfaction, she rolled, curling closer to Quinn, ready for some serious snuggling. And resisted the urge to finger-comb her hopelessly tangled hair.

After their first frantic love-making, hurried, and border-line desperate, they’d stumbled to the shower together. Her lips curved at the memory.

It had been a soapy adventure that quickly got hotter, and steamier. Back in bed, Quinn insisted on licking any excess water from her body. Any drops the towel might have missed. She’d forgotten all about dealing with her unruly hair. Now, drying, it was hopeless.

Quinn wrapped one of her wild brown spirals around his finger. “Awesome curls. They frame your face.”

Her eyes grew wide. He had to be kidding. “Humidity and moisture are not my friends. It gets tangled.”

“Could I brush it sometime?” His fingers followed a different corkscrew from scalp to tip.

“Sure. If you want to.”

“Gorgeous.” He moved a clump aside and kissed the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

“Thank you for coming after me,” she whispered.

“My pleasure.” His breath tickled. “Thank you for being here.”

“Stop saying that.”

“I’m eternally grateful.” He sounded sincere but she knew he was teasing. The twinkle was back in his hazel-green eyes. “I would’ve followed you, tracked you down, wherever you went. But honestly, I’m not sure how much leave I have left.”

She smacked his arm.

“Now that I’m here,” he said, “could I stay with you?”

“Absolutely.” She kissed him but drew back before the kiss got out of hand. “Which leads me to our talk. I’m thinking, since I’m currently unemployed—”

“Wait. Is that resolved? Do you need to face-down Mr. Martin?”

“We’re done. For starters, my final paycheck including paid sick and vacation days, the check he threatened to hold, was direct deposited into my account this morning.”

“Sounds like Martin either changed his mind or cooler heads at Human Resources prevailed.”

“Just to make sure, I phoned him. To inform him my final report had been emailed. To ask if I’d have an exit interview.”

“Smart cookie.” Quinn smirked. “Martin has to know what whistles you could blow during an HR interview.”

“I told him I’d pass on talking to HR for a copy of the detailed, paid-in-full expense report for the Kauai trip.”

“I’m so proud.”

“I took another shower after I hung up.”

“Sorry. Back to your plans. Since you’re unemployed…?”

“Right. Maybe it’s the ideal time to head home. Get a new job. Or maybe go back to school for my MBA. Or both.”

“Ambition is so sexy.”

“And?”

“Home sounds good. When are you planning to return stateside?”

“Tomorrow. I expect my paperwork to arrive by messenger. I don’t have much to pack.”

“I’m on the same time-frame. I like the idea of us going home together.”

“Great.”

He dropped his gaze. “Where are you thinking about sending your resume? You mentioned not wanting to live near your folks in Greenville.”

She bit the inside of her mouth to hold back her smile. If he could tease, so could she. “The rest of South Carolina is loaded with golf-course resorts and it’s all lovely.”

“And not too far from me.” He sounded hopeful. Except the mischievous gleam was missing from his eyes. Still, she wasn’t going to fall at his feet. He needed to speak up.

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Too far to commute.” When he opened his mouth, she held up a hand. “Don’t dare mention you moving. That’s not an option.”

“Good. Okay then. I stay in Goldsboro, North Carolina while you move to Hilton Head, South Carolina. I don’t know—”

“Don’t know what?” Damn. She was losing ground. Gritting her teeth, she cupped his face between her hands. Stared him down. “You don’t know if you want me?”

“What? Hell yes, I want you. I need you so much it hurts.”

“Then why are you hemming and hawing about where I should live?”

“I don’t want to push you. It’s your decision.”

She shot straight up in the bed. “You’re right. My choice. But so far, I haven’t heard any options from you. Ideas? Suggestions?”

“Wait.” He sat up, grasped both her hands. “What are you asking?”

“I give up. So much for subtlety. Remember our truth pact?”

He nodded.

“Good,” she said. “Then here it goes. How about I find a map, draw a big circle around Goldsboro. Start my job search and find a place to live, inside the circle. Meanwhile, I can apply to UNC for my MBA.”

“No.”

Pulling her hands free, her heart plummeted.

Beside her, he dragged his fingers through his short hair. “It’s not because I don’t want you. I do. Haven’t asked you because everything between us all happened so fast. Figured you’d think I’m crazy.”

A thread of hope circled her bruised heart. “Try me.”

For a slit second, Quinn sat with his mouth open. Then he grabbed her and kissed her. Her heart pounding, she clung to him.

When they finally came up for air, he was still gripping her arms. Quinn narrowed his gaze. “DeAnna, I love you with all my heart. I desperately want you to come home to Goldsboro with me. Stay with me. I love you, and I don’t ever want us to be apart.”

He lifted his head, waved a hand. “Well, except for deployments. Otherwise, we’ll always be together. Oh, and Red Flags. Other flags. We won’t ever be apart. Never.”

Hurriedly biting her bottom lip, she struggled to suppress her laughter. The man was adorable. Joy and relief formed a bubble in her chest which demanded release. Instead, she faked a cough.

“Thankfully,” she said, “I’m able to translate most of that. Because I have a best friend, Olivia who sounds just as discombobulated when she’s feeling real intense, and a little flustered. So, I get what you said.”

She paused for air. “And since I love you right back, with all my heart, I’ll go home with you, live in Goldsboro with you. We’ll figure out the nearest resort and then an MBA program, when we get there.”

Quinn beamed and his eyes glistened.

Then a look of horror spread across his face. “Shit. Shit, shit. Forgot to call Ollie. I’m a dead man. Where’s my phone?”

Three weeks later, DeAnna unlocked the door to the ‘old’ apartment using the key Quinn had attached to her dolphin keychain and presented to her. She weaved her way around a stack of moving boxes. This rental had originally been Steve and Quinn’s place.

Steve had moved in with Kari. She and Quinn were scheduled to move to their new house next weekend.

Her feet ached, protesting her choice to wear heels, but otherwise, it had been a great day. As she approached the doorway to the living area, all discomfort vanished. The aroma of ham and pineapple pizza greeted her. Quinn was home.

She toed off the offending shoes and hung her purse on an empty hook. Adjusting the laptop bag hanging from her shoulder, she got a good look at the living room. And laughed out loud.

“Quinn? What have you done?” The main space, a combo living/dining room had the last box-free floorspace in the apartment. It and the postage stamp-sized kitchen were separated by a breakfast bar.

The room was festooned with tropical paper decorations. Colorful garlands crossed the ceiling. Little palm trees, parrots, and pineapples covered every surface.

On the bar sat a new blender alongside bottles of rum and tropical drink mixes. When she spotted the tray of cut fruit, plastic orchids, and little umbrellas, DeAnna laughed harder.

“Surprise.” Quinn hurried from the bedroom, buttoning his classic Hawaiian shirt, his hair damp from the shower. He maneuvered around another tall stack of boxes without breaking stride. With one hand, he slid the bag off her shoulder and eased it to the carpet.

His other arm circled her, lifting. She hiked her skirt up. Leaped into his arms and into a heart-stopping kiss.

“God, I missed you today,” he murmured.

“Me too.” She rubbed her cheek across his. He smelled like soap and aftershave. “Thanks for shaving. Why bother to dress?”

“Don’t know.” He turned, wedged her back to the wall.

She yanked his shirt over his head, pulled her blouse over hers. Released her bra. Hot need raced through her. “Faster.”

“Hang on.” He eased back to drop his shorts and boxers, and roll on protection. Shifting her thong aside, he slid home.

They ended up on the carpet, naked, and half under the coffee table, panting for air. “How come we so seldom use our brand new, very expensive bed?”

“We do,” he said, nuzzling her neck. “Remember, the night it was delivered, we christened it several times. Any night we’re both here, we sleep on it.”

“Sleep?”

“Don’t give me flack, woman. I went to a lot of trouble out here.” He gestured to the room. “Anniversary surprises.”

She dodged his lips. “What anniversary?”

“One month since our first kiss.”

“Aww, happy anniversary to you. The gift for one month is Hawaiian paper decorations?”

“Nope.” He pinched her bare butt. “It’s sex against the wall, then again under the coffee table.”

She laughed until her sides ached.

Over re-heated pizza and a fully-loaded Mai Tai, she said, “Tell me about your day. Any news?”

“Got picked to go to Red Flag in the fall with Steve and the new guys. Nellis Air Force Base, near Las Vegas. I want you to come, if you can manage it.”

“I’d love to. Get me the dates and I’ll check.”

She took in a deep breath. “No other travels?”

He kissed her nose. “Nothing scheduled.”

She willed her muscles to relax. Nothing scheduled. It was Quinn-code for no deployments on the horizon, so far. It was the best she could hope for.

He recounted a funny incident involving one of the new WSOs. Then he asked, “How was your day?”

“On the job, the new landscaping around the front seems to be taking hold. The adjusted schedule is a big hit with the staff. The caddies still laugh their asses off whenever I pick up a golf club.”

“Maybe we could go hit a bucket of balls.”

“Not there.”

“No. Any news on the school front?”

“Heard today. I got accepted into the MBA program at UNC.”

“Outstanding.” He offered a fist-bump. “Will you be able to commute?”

“No need. I was accepted into the UNC Extension program. The majority of my classes will be online. I’ll need to meet with my advisor on a regular basis but otherwise, I’m sticking close to home. Close to you.”

Quinn leaned in and kissed her. “Thank you, honey.”

“My pleasure.”

They ate in silence for a few minutes. Then, out of the blue, Quinn asked, “Do you miss Hawaii? Living and working in a tropical paradise?”

She gave him her warmest smile. “The work? I don’t miss that. On the personal side, Kauai was very beautiful. Moonlight on the waves, palm trees swaying in the warm breezes. But I don’t miss it since I brought my romantic hero home with me.”

She kissed him. “What made you ask?”

“Hauling out the decorations got me thinking.” He shrugged. “I love you, DeAnna. Whenever you and I are together, wherever we are, that’s where my heart is. We make the place romantic.”

About the Author

CJ Matthew grew up in an Air Force family living all over the US and around the world, which provided terrific ideas for future books, and the chance to meet real-life heroes/heroines in uniforms and flight-suits.

When she isn’t writing, or reading romances, CJ enjoys spending time with her two grown children, their spouses, her brilliant grandson, and a feisty cat, Max. Schedule permitting, she loves to travel. Max flatly refuses to leave home.

A Major Affair is story 1.5 in the quintet, The Colonel’s Daughters, which features five sisters, air force brats born in different countries. As each sister travels to her birth place, she meets the man of her dreams and confronts her destiny. Book 1, A Major Seduction takes place at a Tokyo wedding and is now available. Book 2, Compromising the Captain features London during Fashion Week and will release late in 2017.

Blood Tide introduces CJ’s paranormal romance series, Dolphin Shore Shifters. The Santa Barbara pod, dolphins capable of shifting into human form, work through their corporation to protect the oceans at any cost.

Deadly Reboot launched CJ’s romantic suspense series The Paladin Group. Set in a small southern town, these wounded air force veterans, men and women warriors turned civilian lawyers and investigators, are determined to continue their rescue work with an assist from the older generation of veterans.

Stay in touch with CJ:

Website: www.cjmatthew.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/CJMatthew

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/CJMatthewauthor

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/cjmatthew88/

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/cj_matthew/

Brooklyn Winters

Seven Brothers Security Team

Karen M. Bryson

A college student convinces her overprotective father, who is a personal security specialist, to allow her to go on Spring Break, only to have her roommate go missing on the first day of their tropical island vacation.

Introduction

Welcome to the SEVEN BROTHERS SECURITY TEAM. Seven hot brothers. Seven spicy romantic crime novels.

All books in the series can be read as standalone novels or as part of the series.

Want to learn more about Karen M. Bryson's SEVEN BROTHERS SECURITY TEAM romantic crime series?

(Go #SecurityTeamSeven!)

Hang out with Karen and get the latest news on upcoming releases, sales, and giveaways.

Connect with other fans of #SecurityTeamSeven.

https://www.facebook.com/groups/KarenMBrysonRomanticSuspense/

Chapter 1

“Who is Addie Vance?”

I roll my eyes at my dad because I know how much he hates it. “My roommate. Duh. We’ve only been living together for seven months.”

He rubs his temples for several seconds. I must have hit a nerve. The temple rub always proceeds the deep breath, which is his way of tempering an explosion. My father would be the first to admit that he has anger control issues, but he really does try to keep them in check.

“I thought your roommate was a weirdo, your word not mine, and that she reminded you of a crazy old cat lady in the body of an eighteen-year-old.”

“That was like two month ago, Dad. She’s my best friend.”

He raises a dark eyebrow. “Was she your best friend before she offered to pay for your Spring Break trip?”

“Do you really think I’m that shallow?” I glare at him.

He hesitates a few seconds too long.

“Seriously?” I huff.

He kisses my forehead. “I don’t think you’re shallow. I just think you’re a typical eighteen-year-old. I know you find it hard to believe, but I was eighteen once too.”

It is difficult for me to imagine my dad as a young man. He’s so stubborn and set in his ways. He’s the type of guy you’d image came out of the womb as a 40-year-old.

“You know how important Spring Break is. I really want to go.” I try not to whine. My dad hates it when I whine.

“I thought we agreed that you’d work at the office over Spring Break. Tilly already put together a list of tasks for you.”

Tilly has been the office manager for Seven Brothers Security Services for as long as I can remember. And my dad has been in love with her just as long.

Of course he’d never admit it.

Guys like my father, men who risk their lives every day to protect the lives of others, aren’t supposed to have personal relationships. That’s what my dad proclaims anyway. And it seems to be the philosophy held by his brothers as well. Not one of the seven brothers, who make up the Seven Brothers Security Team, has had much luck at sustaining a long-term relationship.

“I promise I’ll make it up to Tilly this summer.”

“I don’t like the idea of two teenage girls going to Florida on your own.”

“Sanibel Island is safe, Dad. I did some research. The crime rate there is lower than it is here in Annadale. You don’t have any issues with me walking around this town on my own.”

“Arizona is a long way from Florida. If you’re in trouble I can’t just hop into my car and be there right away. I would take several days for me to get to you.”

“I’ve been living on my own on campus all year. You’re fine with that.”

He shakes his head. “Not fine with it. I tolerate it. You’re still my little girl. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m an adult now. I can take care of myself. You and your brothers have taught me well. I’ve been doing self-defense training since I learned to walk.”

My dad eyes me skeptically. “I’m still not clear about the financial arrangements for this trip of a lifetime. Why exactly are Addie’s parents willing to pay for all of your expenses?”

“Addie isn’t the most popular girl on campus. She doesn’t have anyone else to go with. I’m her only friend.”

My dad reaches into his pocket and removes his wallet. He counts out a hundred dollars and hands me the cash. “I’m sure you’ll need a little pocket money for the trip.”

I place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Dad. This means a lot to me.”

He pulls me in for a hug. “Stay safe, kiddo.”

“My parents will be here any minute. Do you have everything you need?” Addie is a hairsbreadth away from a total meltdown. Not that much of her life isn’t spent in crisis mode. Today her craziness is in overdrive.

“I’m packed and ready to go,” I assure her.

“Sunscreen,” she exclaims. “I don’t have any sunscreen.”

“We can buy some there. You can’t take stuff like that on the plane anyway.”

She nods. “I’m sorry if I’m freaking out a little.”

“A little?” I laugh.

“Okay, I’m freaking out a lot. This will be my first major trip without my parents.”

I place my hands on her shoulders and look into her bright green eyes. “Everything will be fine.”

She takes in a deep breath then exhales. “Thank you. For everything.”

“I’m the one who should be thanking you. I’ve never been outside of Arizona before. And here I am going on a dream vacation to Sanibel Island.”

She grabs an oversized sunhat from the edge of her bed and plops it on her head. “Hat or no hat? What do you think?”

Addie is tall and thin. The floppy hat makes her look like the Scarecrow from The Wonderful Wizard of Oz. It does cover her thick mop of curly auburn hair though. “It’s your call.”

“Are you bringing a hat?”

I shake my head. “They make me look younger than I already do. I realize I’m petite, but the last time I wore a baseball cap with my hair pulled back, someone mistook me for a twelve-year-old boy.”

“Okay, no hats.” She sends her sunhat sailing Frisbee-style across the room.

A loud pounding on the door startles both of us. Addie answers it.

I’ve only met her parents once before, the day they moved Addie into our dorm room. They struck me as two peas in a nerdy pod, who reproduced an even more awkward pea sprout.

Mrs. Vance removes two plastic document holders from her oversized handbag and hands one to me and one two Addie. “Here are your plane tickets. There will be a car waiting at the airport to take you to the island.”

Addie does an embarrassing dance that makes her look like she’s having a seizure. “Spring Break here we come!”

I just hope she doesn’t break out those mortifying dance moves in public.

Chapter 2

The Sandhill Resort is a beachfront paradise with acres of sparkling white sand along the Gulf of Mexico. Our suite has a private balcony with a view of the sea and sky that seems to be endless. For someone who grew up in the desert I never realized a place could feel so fresh and alive. The air is damp when I inhale, and I can taste a bit of salt on my lips when I lick them.

“Isn’t this fantastic?” Addie says as she joins me on the balcony.

“Amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

“It’s still early afternoon. We should change into our swimsuits and make our way to the beach.”

“Brilliant plan,” I agree.

We both purchased brand new bikinis for the trip, although Addie’s is a bit more revealing than mine. That’s because my overprotective dad’s voice is always playing in the back of my head like a recording. If he had his way I’d be wearing a burqa on the beach instead of a bathing suit.

“Sunscreen,” Addie reminds me. “Don’t forget to use lots of sunscreen.”

As we’re exiting our suite, the door right next to ours opens. Addie and I stop to check out our neighbor.

The guy looks like he’s in his early 20s, but he’s not wearing board shorts like most guys his age wear to the beach. He’s wearing the type of swimsuit my 60-something grandfather wears. To make matters worse he’s got on dark socks and dress shoes rather than flipflops, and a dorky straw hat on his head.

I’m embarrassed for the guy and I don’t even know him.

He gives us a polite wave when he notices us. “Going to the beach?”

We’re wearing bathing suits and carrying beach towels. “Is it that obvious?”

He responds with an uncomfortable laugh. “Mind if I join you?”

Addie and I exchange a quick glance. I don’t want anyone to think he’s with us, especially any hot guys who happen to look in our direction. My days of being a high school geek are behind me. I promised myself things would be different in college.

“I don’t want to cramp your style.” This time when he laughs he snorts. That makes him laugh even harder.

“Let’s go.” I pull Addie’s elbow as I walk away.

The nerdy guy doesn’t take the hint. He follows beside us as we head down the hallway.

“Where are you ladies from?” he asks.

“Annadale, Arizona,” I reply. “It’s close to Phoenix.”

“The Beverly Hills of the Southwest,” he says. “Desert getaway for the rich and famous.”

“So they say. Whoever they are.”

“I’m from Arizona. I’m a grad student at the university.”

“We’re freshman,” Addie tells him.

“Don’t encourage him,” I whisper to her.

“I can actually hear you,” the nerdy guy says.

I give him a polite smile. “Sorry.”

“First Spring Break trip?” he asks.

I nod. “It’s the first time I’ve even been outside of Arizona.”

“Me too,” Addie says.

“Be sure you check out the wildlife refuge. The nature preserve is over six thousand acres and home to over 200 species of birds. It’s fascinating if you’re interested in Ornithology.”

Right now the only thing I’m interested in is talking to a hot guy not some nerd who looks like he raided his grandfather’s closet.

As we exit the building I take my flipflops off and slip them into my tote bag. I want to feel the sand between my toes as we walk along the shoreline.

“I’m Theo, by the way.” He extends a hand for me to shake.

“Brooklyn.” When I reluctantly take his hand, the strangest thing happens. I feel an exchange of energy between us. And there’s a flicker of interest in his smoky dark eyes.

I quickly remove my hand from his. This shop is closed to dorks and nerds of every variety. Been there. Done that. Own the t-shirt. My high school boyfriend was a geek who ended up cheating on me with nearly every female in our school’s Math Club.

I plan on going down an entirely different road in college. Dating guys with more brawn than brains.

“I’m Addie.” She gives Theo a quick wave even though his attention is firmly planted on me.

Ugh. Am I a nerd magnet?

“We’re headed towards the cabanas,” I tell him. Theo seems to be headed in the opposite direction. Maybe he’ll finally get the hint. We don’t want to be anywhere near him.

“I’ll come with you.” He gives me an eager smile.

“You’re not invited.” The words pop out of my mouth before I can stop them. When his face falls I immediately regret my harsh tone.

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “I guess I just thought…” His voice trails off and he doesn’t finish his sentence.

I grab Addie’s elbow and pull her with me as I head away from Theo.

“See you around,” she shouts back to him.

“Don’t encourage him,” I spit.

“Why not? He’s cute.”

“He’s a dork.”

“He’s a cute dork. And he’s totally into you.”

“He’s not exactly what I had in mind for a Spring Break fling.” I point to a shirtless hunk retrieving a volley ball that has be thrown way out of bounds. “He’s more of what I was envisioning.”

“Guys like that are a dime a dozen. You need someone with substance.”

“The only substance I want right now is six-pack abs.”

She furrows her brow. “I know you, Brooklyn. You’re not that shallow.”

“Can’t I be shallow for just one week of my life?”

She sneaks a peek behind us. “Theo is following us. Or at the very least he’s headed in the same direction as we are. He’s trying to be nonchalant about it, but failing miserably. I think he really likes you.”

I wave off her suggestion. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“Maybe you should let him get to know you better.”

“He’s wearing dark dress socks on the beach. That’s a huge red flag. And a straw hat. What twenty-year-old does that? He may as well have a blinking sign over his head that says: Entering the Nerd Zone.”

“I think you should give him a chance.”

There aren’t very many people on the beach so we have our choice of spots. I stop in front of one of the beach umbrellas that the resort supplies to its guests. “This seems like the perfect spot. Great view of the water and of the volleyball game.”

We spread out our towels under the umbrella and lie down on the beach. The gulf water is calm. I close my eyes and listen to the soothing waves. It’s like a little piece of heaven on Earth.

“I could get used to this,” I say.

“Hmm,” Addie purrs. “Me too.”

Just as I’m about to doze off there’s a loud thump right next to me and I’m sprayed with sand.

When I open my eyes I see one of the volleyball players hurrying over to retrieve his ball, which has landed right next to me.

I grab the ball before he does.

“Sorry about that.” The gorgeous hunk flashes me an irresistible smile.

My eyes wander to his six-pack, which is glistening in the sunlight. Now I know how women feel when they say men talk to their breasts. It’s hard for me to take my eyes from his chest.

“Can I have the ball back?”

When I finally look into his bright blue eyes my heart skips a few beats. The guy is just as handsome as he is well-built.

I rise from my towel and hand the ball to him.

His eyes scan the length of my body. “Do you play volleyball?”

I laugh. “You don’t want me anywhere near a ball.”

“I’m Matteo.” He extends a sandy hand for me to shake. When I hesitate to touch him, he wipes the sand off on his board shorts. “Sorry about that.”

When I finally shake his hand it feels sweaty. “I’m Brooklyn.”

“Cool name.”

“My mom was from New York.”

“How about you and your friend meet us for drinks later?”

“Pool bar?” I raise an eyebrow and try my best to look seductive.

“Eight o’clock?”

“We’ll see you then.”

He turns and hurries back over to the game. I rejoin Addie under the umbrella.

“What are you doing?” She doesn’t sound as pleased as I thought she would be.

“We’re having drinks with the gorgeous volleyball players. I thought you’d be happy.”

She wrinkles her nose. “There’s only one problem with your plan. We’re not old enough to drink.”

I wave away her concern. “We can order soda, or cranberry juice. Where is your sense of adventure?”

“I’ve never had one.”

“Please…I know somewhere deep inside you there’s a rebel trying to get out. That’s what Spring Break is for. To let loose and live a little.”

She heaves a resigned sigh. “Fine. I’ll go. But only because you’re my best friend.”

“I’m your only friend.”

She shrugs. “You have a point.”

Chapter 3

“Are you sure I look okay?” Addie asks me for the hundredth time.

“You look great,” I assure her.

Addie looks better than I’ve ever seen her look. Her curly hair is pulled back into a short ponytail and she’s wearing lipstick and eyeliner. Instead of her usual attire of an oversized t-shirt and jeans, she’s wearing a flowered sundress and sandals.

It’s like someone cast a magic spell and replaced my nerdy roommate with a cute co-ed.

“I still feel like your less attractive best friend. You know, the girl who is cast to make the star of the show look even more attractive.”

“You need to have more confidence in yourself,” I tell her.

She gives me an eye roll. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re the pretty one.”

“It’s almost eight. We’d better head down to the pool bar.”

The outdoor bar that borders the pool looks a lot different at night. It’s covered with twinkling lights that give it a magical glow, and the flickering candles that line the length of the bar give it an aura of romance.

“Do you see them?” I whisper to Addie as I scan the bar area.

“Over there.” She points to a secluded table in the far corner of the patio where Matteo and two of his friends are seated.

As we head over to the table I do a quick fluff of my hair.

Matteo’s face lights up when he sees us. “Let me grab another seat.” He takes a chair from the empty table next to them and moves it to their table. “Here you go.”

I sit down next to Matteo and Addie takes a seat next to his brawny friend. Matteo is muscular, but this guy is like a brick wall.

“That’s my buddy, Isa.” He points to Mr. Brick Wall. “And that’s Riker.” The third guy is much smaller than his friends, but he looks meaner. He doesn’t bother with a smile. The only acknowledgement he gives us is a slight nod of his head.

“This is Addie.” I point to my roommate.

She gives the guys a wave.

“What do you want to drink?” Matteo asks. “I’ll go up to the bar and get it.”

I glance over at Addie. She must be reading my mind: he’s over twenty-one and can buy us booze. She frowns and shakes her head.

“Ginger ale is fine,” I tell him.

“And for you, lovely lady?” He gestures towards Addie.

“The same,” she says.

Matteo rises from the table and heads towards the bar leaving us with Riker and Isa. Neither of them looks too thrilled with us being there.

“Where do you go to school?” I ask the guys.

Riker laughs. “I haven’t set foot in a school since I was sixteen.”

“Oh…” My voice trails off. “Usually people come to Florida for Spring Break.”

“We’re here on business,” Riker clarifies.

“What business are you in?” I ask.

He rubs his chin. “Asset apprehension.”

“Are you saying you’re a repo man?”

“Something like that.”

When I glance over at Addie her eyes are wide and her mouth is agape.

Matteo comes back to the table and places our drinks in front of us before he sits back down.

“Thank you,” I say.

He gives me a charming grin. “My pleasure.”

Out of the corner of my eye I notice Theo nervously scanning the bar area until his eyes land on me.

He takes a seat at the end of the bar closest to our table. Is that so he can watch me? I’m officially freaked out.

“Is everything okay?” Matteo asks.

“I’m not sure.”

He furrows his brow. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a guy at the bar. I think he might be following me.”

Matteo glances in Theo’s direction. “Are you talking about the guy who looks like he raided his grandfather’s closet?”

“That’s the one.”

“Do you want me to go over there and talk to him?” Matteo offers.

“He might just have a crush on me.” Or he might be serial killer who wants to make a suit out of my skin.

“He looks harmless.” Matteo takes a swig of his beer.

So did Ted Bundy.

When I notice Addie has already downed half of her drink I take a sip of my ginger ale.

“Where are you ladies from?” Matteo asks.

“Arizona,” I reply. “Annadale. Outside of Phoenix.”

“We had a job in Phoenix a few years back. The place is as hot as an oven.”

“Florida’s not cool either,” I say. “But it’s much more humid than Arizona. It’s more like a sauna.”

The guys take sips of their beers. The conversation seems to have come to a halt. When I said I wanted brawn instead of brains I guess I didn’t think it through all that well. There’s not a lot to talk about.

I’m not sure why, but I glance over at Theo. He’s still watching as intently as a guy with huge bet on a football games watches the final minutes of the last quarter.

For a moment I wonder what it would be like talking with him instead of staring awkwardly at Matteo trying to think of something to say. Theo is a graduate student, so he’s probably smart. I’m sure he’d have a lot to say. And he seemed eager to have a conversation with me.

Before I blew him off anyway.

When I hear Addie moan I turn my attention back towards her.

“Are you okay?” He normally pale face looks even whiter. All of the color has drained from her cheeks.

“I’m not feeling very well.” Her speech is slurred. “I think I should go back to our room.”

“You just got here,” Riker grabs her arm. “Don’t go.”

“My head is spinning and I feel like I’m going to barf. Maybe I got too much sun this afternoon.”

“I’ll go with you.” As I rise from the table Matteo also rises and blocks my view of Addie.

“Stay and finish your drink,” Matteo says. “Riker can walk her back. I promise she’ll be in good hands.”

I’m conflicted. I don’t feel completely comfortable with the idea of having a guy we just met and hardly know walking Addie back to our room. But I also don’t want to stand Matteo up. Especially when he just bought us drinks.

He raises a hand like a Boy Scout giving a pledge. “You have my word. Addie will be fine.”

“It’s okay, Brooklyn. You stay and have fun.”

“Are you sure?” I’m worried about her. She can barely keep her head up straight.

She rubs her temple. “My head is killing me. I really have to go.”

“Okay. Text me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Riker helps Addie out of her chair then puts his arm around her so that she won’t fall as he guides her through the bar area.

“It’s pretty common for people to get sun poisoning their first day on the island.”

I tilt my head and narrow my gaze at Matteo. “How did you know it was our first day on the island?”

He slowly runs a finger down the length of my arm. “You barely have any tan.”

I get shivery in response to his touch.

“That’s my cue,” Isa says as he rises from his chair. “I’ll let the two of you have some alone time. See you back at the room.”

Isa disappears into the dark night before Matteo has a chance to respond.

He moves in closer to me and whispers in my ear. “Guess that leaves just the two of us.”

Things are moving a lot faster than I thought they would. I’m not sure I’m ready for what Matteo seems to have on his mind. As much as I may have wanted a Spring Break fling I’m having serious doubts that I want it to be with Matteo.

“Are you sharing a room with your friends?” I ask.

“Isa is going to take a long walk on the beach.”

I gulp. I’m definitely not ready to go back to Matteo’s room with him. I take another sip of my drink.

“So, you’re a college girl.” It’s a statement not a question.

“A freshman.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend?”

“Not at the moment.”

“Lucky me.” This time when he whispers in my ear he places a kiss on my neck.

That’s a huge step too far. I need to get out of this situation and fast.

I try to discreetly inch away from him, but I’m obviously not subtle enough. He grabs my upper arm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

I’m startled by his sudden angry gesture. He’s clamped down on my arm like a vice. “You’re hurting me.”

He releases me from his grasp. “Finish your drink.”

As I gulp down the remainder of the ginger ale I start to feel woozy. The world begins to spin around me.

“Gotta go,” I hear Matteo whisper as my forehead hits the table. “I have some business to attend to.”

Chapter 4

I bolt up in a panic. It takes me a moment to remember that I’m in Florida on vacation. But as I look around I realize I’m not in my room. I’m on someone else’s couch.

I immediately check to make sure I’m fully clothed. Everything appears to be intact.

Then I wipe at the drool on the side of my face.

My temples are throbbing. It feels like there’s a heavy metal drummer doing a solo in my head.

“You’re awake,” a male voice says.

It’s Theo. What am I doing in his room? How did I get here?

“I think that guy you met for drinks drugged you.”

I rub my forehead in an attempt to get the pounding to stop. “What time is it?”

“Four in the morning.”

“My roommate.” Panic rises in my voice. “I have to find her.”

“You need to take it slow. Let me get you a drink of water.”

“No.” When I try to rise from the couch I feel faint, and my legs feel like gelatin.

Luckily Theo grabs ahold of me before I land on my butt. He helps me back down onto the couch. “You’re probably dehydrated.”

He hurries over to the small resort fridge and removes a sports drink. He twists the cap off then hands me the plastic bottle. “Drink this.”

I down the bright red electrolyte-filled beverage in a few big gulps. I guess I was thirstier than I thought.

“How did I get in your room?” I ask.

“I saw the guy who bought you the drinks take off. You were planted face down on the table. So I hurried over to help you. You were completely out of it. I carried you back here because I didn’t want to go rummaging through your pockets to find your room key. And I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m fine,” I assure him. Or I should be in a few hours anyway. “Do you have some Advil?”

“I don’t think you should take anything like that on an empty stomach. I have half of a turkey sandwich in the fridge.”

“I’m worried about my roommate.”

“Eat first. You can’t go anywhere if you’re still faint and dizzy.”

When I nod in agreement he hurries back over to the fridge and grabs the leftover half of his sandwich. He removes it from the plastic container, places it on a napkin then hands it to me.

I’m not sure why, but I sniff it before I take a bite.

“It’s still good,” Theo says. “I bought it last night.”

“I know…” The expiration date isn’t the issue. I just found out I was drugged by a guy I thought I could trust.

I take a few nibbles of the sandwich and place the remainder on the coffee table.

Theo furrows his brow. “You’re going to leave behind two bites?”

“I guess not.” I pick up what’s left of the sandwich and force it down. “Better?”

“Much.”

“Now will you help me up so I can find my roommate?”

“Maybe she’s safe and sound in her bed,” he offers.

I’m unconvinced. “I need to check for myself.”

Theo extends an elbow. I grab on to it as I lift myself up from the couch.

Between the sports drink and the turkey sandwich I’m not nearly as wobbly on my feet as I was before.

“Thanks again for your help,” I tell him. “I really didn’t deserve it after I was so mean to you.”

“You weren’t that mean. Maybe I was coming on a bit too strong. You might find this hard to believe, but I don’t have a lot of experience with women.”

I put my hand to my chest and feign surprise. “No! Really?”

He cracks the slightest smile. “Shocking. I know.”

I place my hand on his upper arm. “You’re a really sweet guy.”

He shakes his head. “The kiss of death. With just one offhand remark you’ve relegated me to the friend zone.”

“I didn’t mean to come across that way. I meant it as a compliment.”

Even though he shakes his head I’m not sure he understands what I’m saying. But now is not the time to discuss the psychology of male-female relationships. “I need to make sure my roommate is okay.”

“I’m coming with you.” I’m surprised by the authority in his voice.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine…”

“What if those three thugs are in your room? Will you be able to defend yourself?”

Against one, maybe. Against all three at once, probably not. “Fine. You can come with me.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

When our eyes meet I see something in Theo that I didn’t see before. There’s a little bit of an alpha male inside that nerdy exterior.

As the two of us exit his room, I reach into my pocket, remove my room key, and unlock the front door of my suite.

The room is quiet. Too quiet. In my heart I know Addie isn’t here but I do a quick search of the place anyway. There are no signs of her anywhere. Both of our beds are made. I know I haven’t slept in mine, and hers doesn’t look slept in either.

“We need to find Matteo’s room,” I say.

“Do you know what room he’s staying in?” Theo asks.

I shake my head. “I never asked.”

“Are you sure he and his friends are really staying at the resort?”

My stomach knots. I’m not sure at all. Who knows if anything he and his friends said is true?

I rub my temples. “I really need an Advil.” I rummage around in my tote bag until I find a small travel size bottle of painkillers. I pop two in my mouth and swallow them dry.

“How did you do that?” Theo winces.

“Do what?”

“Swallow those pills without any water.”

“Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“Don’t you have any bottled water in your fridge?” he asks.

I shake my head. “We haven’t picked up anything at the store yet.”

“I would have gone over to my room to get you something to drink. All you would have had to do was ask.”

“As much as I appreciate the chivalrous gesture, we don’t have time for that right now. We have to find Addie. First stop, the front desk. Let’s see if Matteo and his buddies are actually guests here.”

Chapter 5

“What do you mean you can’t release that information?” I glare at the young guy standing at the front desk.

He glowers right back at me. “I cannot release any information about our guests.”

“So you’re confirming that he’s a guest?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well if he’s not a guest, you have no obligation to keep that confidential, do you?” I place my hands on my hips in a defiant gesture.

He puckers his lips like a fish. “I guess not.”

“Good. Tell me if Matteo is not registered as a guest.”

He heaves a sigh. “Is that his first name or his last name?”

“First name.”

He looks up at me from his computer screen. “Do you have a last name?”

“How many people do you know with the name Matteo?”

He types for a few moments on his keyboard. “There are no guests registered with the first name Matteo. Happy?”

“Not quite. Would you also look up the names Isa and Riker?”

He shakes his head. “You’re a real piece of work.”

I smile. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t meant that way.” He types for several more seconds. “Nope. We have no guests name Isa or Riker. Now will you leave me alone?”

“I appreciate your help.”

He grunts in response.

As Theo follows me out of the lobby he asks, “What next?”

I shake my head. “I have no idea. Maybe I should phone the police.”

“Does Addie have her cellphone with her?”

I shrug. “I guess so. I didn’t see it in our room. She had it with her when we went down to the pool bar for drinks.”

“We could try to track her phone.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do you know how to do that?”

He nods. “I’m a graduate student in computer science. I know how to do a lot of things.”

“Is it legal?” I ask.

He gives me the hint of a smile. “Why don’t you let me worry about that?”

We head back to our rooms.

As I’m unlocking my door, Theo says, “Let me grab my laptop and I’ll meet you in your room.”

“Okay.”

Once I’m inside I lock the door with the bolt just to be safe. But I still don’t feel comfortable. My father and his brother are all personal security specialists. Their job is to keep their clients safe. My whole life I’ve felt protected. This is the first time that I’ve felt so vulnerable.

A knock on the door startles me. When I glance into the peephole and see that it’s Theo I unlock the door and let him in.

“Should we phone the police first?” I suggest.

He holds up his laptop. “Let’s give this a try and see if we come up with anything.”

“Okay,” I agree.

Theo sets his laptop on the small round table between the kitchenette and the living area. He takes a seat and I stand next to him looking at the laptop screen over his shoulder.

With a few clicks he logs into a shady-looking website. “What’s her phone number?”

As I recite the digits he types the information into the website. After a few moments an address pops up with a small map.

Theo gives me a quick look. “That’s right in the middle of the wildlife refuge I was telling you about.”

“Why would kidnappers take Addie to a wildlife refuge?”

“Maybe they dumped her phone there…or…” His voice trails off. He doesn’t have to finish the sentence. I know what he was going to say. Or that’s where they dumped her body.

A shiver runs through my entire body as I think about the seriousness of the situation. What if something really bad has happened to Addie?

“I don’t like this.” I rub my forehead. The painkiller doesn’t seem to be working. My head is still pounding. “I think we should phone the police.”

Just as I’m about to pick up the resort phone in the room, it rings.

Theo and I exchange a glance.

“I guess I’d better answer it.” For some reason I’m immobilized.

“I’ll get it,” Theo offers.

He presses a button on the bottom of the cradle and it turns on a speaker phone.

“Hello,” he says a bit too loudly.

There’s a sob on the other end of the line. Then a female voice says, “We think Addie has been kidnapped.”

“Mrs. Vance?” I say.

She sniffles. “Oh, Brooklyn. It’s so good to hear your voice. Is Addie really gone?”

“I haven’t seen her since last night.”

“We got an email, a ransom note. They said they have Addie and want a million dollars. You didn’t phone the police, did you?”

“No,” I reply. “Not yet.”

“Don’t,” she practically screams. “They said they would kill her if we got the police involved.”

My head is spinning with so many questions I’m not sure where to start. “Isn’t that what kidnappers always say?” That’s what they say in the movies anyway.

“I’m not willing to take any chances with my baby’s life,” Mrs. Vance snaps.

“We’re taking the first flight down to Florida that we can get,” Mr. Vance chimes in. “We should be down there sometime this afternoon.”

“Call me as soon as you get here,” I tell them. “Do you have my cellphone number?”

“Give it to me again just in case,” Mr. Vance says.

I recite the number.

“We’ll see you soon,” Mrs. Vance says before she hangs up.

“Kidnapped?” The word sounds foreign coming out of my mouth. It’s so hard to believe that it’s true.

Theo shakes his head in disbelief. “This is bizarre. I feel like I woke up in a bad suspense thriller.”

“One of those cheesy movie-of-the-week deals?”

He nods. “Exactly.”

“Do you really think they’ll kill Addie if we phone the police?”

“If she’s not dead already.”

I’m overcome with a feeling of dread. What if he’s right? What if they’ve already killed her?

And what am I still doing alive? Why did they take Addie and leave me at the pool bar passed out?

“Maybe I should call my dad,” I mutter mostly to myself.

“Your dad?” Theo’s voice rises.

I heave a long, slow sigh. “He’ll just say I told you so. He never wanted me to go on this trip in the first place. I assured him that nothing bad was going to happen and that I could take care of myself. I’m doing a great job so far.” I can’t help the sarcasm in my voice.

Theo rises from the table and places a hand on my shoulder. “This isn’t your fault.”

When our eyes meet there’s a spark between us that takes me by surprise. I quickly turn my attention to the picture window where the darkness seems to be giving way to the dawn.

“Things will be better in the daylight, won’t they?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” Theo rubs at worry lines on his forehead.

“I want to try to find Addie’s cellphone. Do you think you can get me there?” I turn and point to the target on the map on his laptop.

“The wildlife refuge doesn’t open until seven.”

“Just enough time for us to get showered and dressed.”

“Do you drink coffee?” Theo raises an eyebrow.

“Sometimes. It might take the edge off my headache.”

“Muffins?”

I give him sly smile. “Are you trying to get to my heart through my stomach?”

“Am I that transparent?”

“I’m a blueberry muffin gal.”

“My favorite too. I’ll see you in an hour.”

Chapter 6

“Hot coffee and warm buttered muffins. What more could a girl ask for?”

Theo sets the coffee holder and tray of muffins on the small table. Then he turns to me. “You look nice.”

I slipped on the closest thing I could find to a bird watching outfit: Bermuda shorts, a matching polo shirt and a visor.

“You don’t look so shabby yourself.” Theo doesn’t look quit as nerdy as he did yesterday. At least his shorts and shirt look like they were made in the 21st century. And he’s wearing athletic socks with his sneakers instead of black dress socks.

When he gives me a broad smile I actually wonder what it might be like to kiss him. Then I wonder where that ridiculous thought came from. I promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with any guys who could be classified as geeks. And now is the absolute worst time to be thinking about anything other than making sure Addie is safe.

“Eat your muffin before it gets cold,” Theo says.

I grab one of the treats from the tray and take a bite. The blueberries melt in my mouth. “Delicious.”

“The woman at the coffee shop insisted they were homemade. Right out of the oven.”

“Eat one,” I urge.

He shakes his head. “I got them for you.”

“I’m not going to be able to eat four huge muffins myself. Three is my limit.”

He laughs as he looks me up and down. “I’ll be shocked if you finish the one in your hand.”

“I may look small, but I have a hearty appetite. My dad likes to tease me and say that I have a hollow leg.”

“You talk about your dad a lot. You must have a close relationship.”

I roll my eyes. “We have a complicated relationship.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

I glance over at the clock on the television stand. “How much time do you have?”

“It’ll only take us a few minutes to get over to the wildlife refuge.”

“If you eat a muffin, I’ll tell you about life with my dad.”

He grabs a muffin from the tray and takes a bite. “Mmm. These are good.”

“My mom and dad met when they were in college. My mom was originally from New York. That’s how I got my first name. When my mom got pregnant they both dropped out of school so they could take care of me. My dad joined his father in the personal security business and my mom did substitute teaching. Their relationship didn’t work out. I think they both blamed each other for not being able to finish college and have the careers they wanted. My mom married a high-end real estate developer a few years after I was born. He’s twenty years older than my mom, so they never had any children together. My dad never got married. He devoted his whole life to two things: building the personal security business and raising me. To say he’s been overprotective would be an understatement. Honestly it was a miracle he let me go on this trip. And now everything is a complete disaster.”

“It sounds like your dad cares a lot about you. Consider yourself very lucky.” There’s a hint of sadness in his voice.

“What about your family?” I ask. “I told you my tale of woe.”

He glances at his watch. “That’s a story for another time. We’d better get going if we want to make it to the wildlife preserve when it opens.”

I grab my coffee from the holder. “Do you mind if I drink this in the car?”

He laughs. “Fine by me. It’s a rental.”

Chapter 7

The wildlife refuge is exactly what I imagined it would look like. Lots of tropical birds. Natural habitat. The only thing I wasn’t anticipating was the alligators. It’s Florida. They literally have sports teams named after the creatures. I’m not sure why it didn’t dawn on me that they’d be lurking in the wild.

I’m holding Theo’s cellphone in my lap as we drive though the sanctuary. We’re using the tracking device to find Addie’s phone. “A few hundred yards on the left,” I tell him.

Theo parks on the shoulder of the road behind several other cars. The birdwatchers are out early this morning. We’ve already passed dozens of their parked cars lining the roadway.

As we exit Theo’s cheap rental I’m taken aback by how eerily quiet it is. Maybe I’m used to the rowdiness of a college campus, but the only noise I hear is the squawk of a bird as it flies overhead.

“Over there.” I point to a small body of water. A mangrove swamp. “That’s where it says the phone is.”

We both move closer to the water’s edge.

“Dial her number,” Theo says.

I turn off the tracker and call Addie’s cell. We wait for several seconds until there’s a faint sound in the distance. Her ringtone is twangy country music song.

“That’s it.” I point in the direction the sound is coming from. Deep in the mangroves.

“If we’re going to retrieve it,” Theo says. “One of us is going to have to get wet.”

My first thought is alligators. My second thought is snakes. “You’d better do it.”

He takes in a deep breath and exhales before he makes his way into the water.

As I glance around the immediate area for something he might be able to use as a tool to retrieve the phone, I realize we didn’t come very well prepared. Even bringing a kid’s sand pail and shovel would have been an improvement over what we’ve got, which is nothing.

My eyes land on a decent size stick in the distance. But as I move closer I realize there are two small alligators right next to it. If there are small ones this close to use, there are probably larger ones nearby as well.

“Be careful,” I yell over to Theo.

I don’t think either of us anticipated how deep the water in the mangrove swamp would be. By his third step Theo is chest deep in the brackish water.

My stomach knots thinking about the creatures that could be lurking around him. When I see Theo’s head go under the water I feel like I’m going to throw up.

I’m just about ready to dive into the water after him when I see his head pop back up. “Dial her number again,” he gasps.

I call her cell and a few moments later there’s the faint sound of her ringtone in the mangroves.

“It’s lodged in the branches.” Theo says as he swims towards a cluster of trees.

My stomach is twisted in such a tight knot I nearly double over. I don’t want anything bad to happen to Theo. I realize I’m starting to care about him.

“Got it!” When he holds up Addie’s purple cellphone I breathe a small sigh of relief. But he still has to make it back to the shore without encountering a deadly reptile.

I hold my breath as he swims back, holding the cellphone in the air so it doesn’t get wet.

When he finally emerges from the swamp his clothes are drenched and every inch of his body is caked with mud.

“We should have brought some towels with us,” I say.

“You think?” He glances down at his filthy clothes and shoes.

“Maybe I should drive us back to the resort.”

“What are the odds that someone would try to get rid of her cellphone in a swamp and it would get lodged in the mangrove branches and not get wet?” I ask as we enter Theo’s suite.

“If I was a gambler I wouldn’t take that bet.”

“She has it passcode protected,” I say as I click the phone on.

“I need to get a shower,” Theo says. “I have a cellphone charger on the desk it you want to charge it. Don’t try to guess her passcode until I get back. We’ll only get a few shots at it before we get locked out.”

As he heads into the bathroom I plug Addie’s phone into the charger.

I know I shouldn’t be nosey, but I can’t help myself. I poke around his room looking for clues about what makes Theo tick. I don’t find much. A copy of the latest Michael Connelly novel and some Tic Tacs.

I guess I’ll have to get to know him better the old-fashioned way—by having a conversation with him.

When he emerges from the bathroom he’s wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. I choke. He’s more muscular than I thought he would be. A computer geek who works out. That’s a first for me. The computer geeks I’ve known have only exercised their thumbs playing video games.

“My suitcase with all of my clothes is in that closet.” He points to the other side of the room.

I quickly cover my eyes with my hand, but then peek through a small slit between my middle finger and ring finger so I can continue to check out his fine body.

A ripple of excitement moves through me as I think about what it would feel like to be wrapped in his strong arms.

“Maybe I should go back to my room,” I stutter. I think I need to cool off.

“Just give me a few minutes.”

I nod. What can I do that will take my mind off Theo’s body?

I pull out my own cellphone to check my messages. There are three irate texts from my dad scolding me for not contacting him.

I’m not okay. Things here in Florida are not okay. But I don’t want my dad to know that. He’ll be on the next flight down here if he even senses anything is wrong.

I send him a quick text: Everything is fine. Having fun. Love you.

I get an immediate reply: Love you 2.

This time when Theo emerges from the bathroom he’s fully clothed, but his hair is still a bit damp. It actually looks better when it’s a bit more relaxed and not so wavy.

“Have you ever thought of using hair gel?” I ask.

He laughs. “I’m a shampoo-and-go kind of guy.”

“Let me style it for you,” I suggest.

He frowns. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” I grab his hand. “Come to my room.”

He glances down at our joined hands and gulps. “Okay…” he mutters.

I pull him out of his room and over to my suite. I unlock the door and drag him inside. Then I lead him into the bathroom.

“Sit down.” I point to the toilet seat.

He does as instructed and sits on the closed lid. I grab my hair gel from the counter and squirt a dab on my palm. I rub it into his damp hair. Then I pull the blow dryer from the mount on the wall and dry his hair.

As I run my fingers through his thick dark hair I feel tingly all over. I wonder what it would feel like to touch other parts of his body.

Why does my mind keep doing that? Why do I keep thinking about getting intimate with Theo?

I quickly push those thoughts aside. What kind of person would I be having a fling with Theo while my roommate is in danger?

“Your hair looks great,” I tell him as I turn off the dryer.

He rises from the toilet and turns to glance in the mirror. “Wow, you’re right. That does make a difference.”

“I don’t know much about a lot of things, but I do know about styling wavy hair.” I point to my own mass of thick locks.

“Yours doesn’t look wavy at all.”

I point to the gel. “I told you the stuff works.”

“Let’s see if we can crack into Addie’s phone.”

I snap my fingers. “I left it charging in your room.”

Chapter 8

“Have you thought about what her passcode might be?” Theo asks as he picks up Addie’s phone from the table where I left it.

“I wouldn’t call her the most creative person in the world. And she freaks out easily. I doubt she set it to something very difficult for her to remember. Don’t you have some ninja passcode breaking skills?”

“There is a hacking program we could use, but it takes quite a bit of time. If you think you could guess what it is, that would be a lot easier.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say her cat’s birthday.”

He bites back a grin. “And do you happen to know when her cat’s birthday is?”

I roll my eyes. “Her parents had a birthday party for Tiger. I had to buy a present. It’s 1016.”

He types the number onto the keypad and it unlocks the phone. “Good guess.”

“Just showing off my ninja detective skills.”

Now I’m the one who earns an eye roll from Theo. “Let’s look at her texts first.”

I glance over Theo’s shoulder as he scrolls through the texts. There are quite a few, but they’re all from her parents. Nothing out of the ordinary. Addie asking about the resort. What the weather is like in Florida. What airline they were getting the tickets from. There is one text that catches my eye though. It must catch Theo’s attention too because he stops scrolling.

It’s a photo of Matteo, Riker and Isa.

“The text was sent yesterday morning,” Theo says.

“That was long before we met them.”

“Long before you met them,” Theo corrects.

I take a closer look at the phone number of the person who sent to text. I don’t recognize it. I don’t even recognize the area code.

“The phone number is from the Tampa area,” Theo says as if he’s reading my mind.

I glance up at him. “Do you have all of the area codes in the country memorized?”

He laughs. “I do store a lot of useless information in my head, but I only have a few area codes memorized. That just happens to be one of them.”

I wonder why?

“Why did Addie receive a text with a photo of the guys who drugged us and who we think kidnapped her hours before the crime took place,” I wonder aloud.

“Maybe it wasn’t a crime?”

I raise an eyebrow. “Do you think the kidnapping was a set-up?”

“At this point, I’m not sure what to think.”

“Let’s check her emails.” I suggest.

He switches from the texting screen to her email app. Theo scrolls through her emails, but there’s nothing out of the ordinary. Most of it is junk like ads for trendy clothing and the latest vitamin supplements.

“What does her dad do for a living?” Theo asks.

“Addie said he’s an engineer. She never told me what company he works for. Her mom works in human resources. You don’t think they’re mixed up with some illegal activity? Like maybe they owe money to the mob?”

He laughs. “Now you really are making it sound like we’re in some cheesy movie-of-the-week.”

“Matteo did look like he could be of Italian heritage.”

“Maybe we should call the police,” Theo suggests. “I want to make sure you’re protected.”

I furrow my brow. “Mrs. Vance asked me not to.”

He turns the phone so that I can see the photo of Matteo and his friends again. “Are you sure you can trust her?”

I heave a sigh. “I’m not sure who I trust anymore.”

“Why don’t we grab a bite to eat? It’s never a good idea to make important decisions on an empty stomach.”

I glance at the clock on the television. It’s eleven thirty. As if on cue my stomach starts to growl.

Theo smiles. “That settles it then. I’m taking you for lunch.”

Chapter 9

Theo takes me to a trendy café in one of the upscale shopping plazas. Most of the stores are expensive boutiques way out of my price range, but it doesn’t stop me from glancing at the beautiful clothing in the windows as we pass by.

We’re seated at a small table in the back of the restaurant. It’s still early so the place isn’t crowded yet. We should have some privacy.

“Why would Addie have a photo of those guys on her phone?” I say. It’s not really a question. More like I’m thinking aloud.

Theo answers anyway. “Was she having money problems?”

“Not that I’m aware of. I don’t think she’s capable of planning something like this by herself.”

“Did she ever talk about knowing anyone in Florida? Was she communicating with any guys online?”

I shake my head. “She didn’t talk about guys. Not that she didn’t want a boyfriend, but it was more of an abstract concept. You have to understand. Addie is…not like other college students.”

He furrows his brow. “What do you mean?”

“She’s like a sixty-year-old cat lady trapped in an eighteen-year-old’s body.”

“That’s not an image I really want in my head.” He scrunches up his nose.

When a server comes to take our orders we realize we haven’t even looked at our menus yet.

“Do you have any specials?” Theo asks.

“Shrimp bisque,” the server says. “In a sourdough bread bowl.”

“Yes, please,” I tell the server.

“Me too.” Theo takes the menu from my hand and hands it with his to the server.

“Anything to drink?” he asks.

“I’m fine with just water,” I say.

Theo nods. “Me too.”

Once the server leaves I turn my attention to Theo. “Why do you know the area code for Tampa off the top of your head?”

There’s a flash of sadness in his eyes. “I dated someone all through college. She was my first serious girlfriend. I thought we’d get married once we graduated. She got accepted to a graduate program at the university in Tampa. I got accepted to a grad program in Arizona. We tried to make a long-distance relationship work, but it didn’t. We broke up over winter break.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“She’s already engaged to someone else.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Wow…” That was fast.

He lets out a sigh. “I thought she was the one. Guess not.”

“Whatever I say will just end up sounding like a bad cliché.”

“You mean like there are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Just like the bus, another will come along soon.”

He grins. “There are plenty more stars in the sky. I’m just waiting for the brightest.”

When our eyes meet sparks fly between us. My entire body heats in response.

“Maybe you’re the star I’ve been waiting for.” It’s hard to tell if he’s serious or still making a joke. Either way it’s corny.

“Cheesy pick-up lines don’t work on me,” I tell him.

“It’s not a pick-up line.” His eyes twinkle and I realize he’s serious.

I swallow. I’m starting to like Theo a lot more than I ever imagined I could. It’s exciting and scary at the same time.

When the server comes with our food the heat that’s been building between the two of us cools a bit.

I eat a spoonful of the soup. It’s tasty. “You should try the bisque.”

He’s still messing around with Addie’s phone. “I found something in her deleted items. It’s an email from the university. Her tuition is past due. They’re threatening to drop her from her classes.”

“I thought she had a scholarship.”

“She did. It was rescinded when she didn’t meet the grade requirement last term.”

I shake my head. “She never told me anything about that. When I asked her about her grades she said she did well last term.”

“She was supposed to maintain a 3.0 grade point average. She earned a 2.75.”

“Why did she lie?”

He glances up at me from the phone. “What was your grade point average?”

“It was a 4.0. I got all A’s.”

“Did you tell Addie that?”

“I didn’t brag about it,” I say a little too defensively. “But she did see that I made the Dean’s List. That requires a perfect GPA.”

“Maybe she was embarrassed. That’s why she didn’t say anything.”

“I feel bad that she didn’t trust me enough to tell me.”

Theo takes my hand in his and gives it a squeeze. “I think smart girls are sexy.”

“I’m not that smart. I work really hard to get good grades.”

“Hard working girls are hot too.” He winks at me.

“You’re the smart one. A graduate student in computer science is pretty impressive.”

“I get by.”

“I think you’re selling yourself short.”

“So are you.”

When our eyes meet there’s another exchange of energy between us.

I quickly remove my hand from his. “Do you think that she set the kidnapping up to get money for tuition?”

“Anything is possible. We know she needed money. And we know she knew the suspected kidnappers before the alleged kidnapping.”

I laugh. “You sound like a lawyer with your suspected kidnappers and alleged kidnapping.”

“Both of my parents are lawyers. It made for a very messy divorce.”

“How old were you when they split up?”

He takes a small taste of his soup before he answers. “This is good.” Then he looks up at me. “I was twelve when they split up. Fourteen when the divorce was finalized.”

“It must have been difficult.”

“It is what it is. The hardest part was being shuttled back and forth between them because they got shared custody. Three days with my mom, four days with my dad one week. Then four days with my mom, three days with my dad the next. I wasn’t able to participate in any afterschool activities, or even make any friends because of it. That’s how I got interested in computers. I spent most of my time alone in my bedroom.”

“Do you have any siblings?” I ask.

“My dad got remarried to a much younger woman and they have three kids. I’m not close to them because there’s such a big age difference. And my stepmother doesn’t like me very much.”

I raise an eyebrow. “I find it hard to believe that someone doesn’t like you.”

“It’s not really me she doesn’t like. It’s the fact that my dad gives me money for school. She thinks all his money should be spent on her and her kids. I think she’d prefer it if I didn’t exist.”

“That’s awful.”

“That’s life.”

“Even though I don’t have any siblings I rarely spent any time alone,” I say. “My dad has six brothers and they are all in business together. The Seven Brothers Security Team. It often felt like I was being raised by all seven of them. And don’t even get me started on my grandparents. Being a part of the Winters family is like living in a small town. Everyone always has their nose in your business.”

“Consider yourself lucky that you have such a close family.”

“It is what is it.” I throw his line back at him.

“You obviously have a lot of people who care about you,” he says.

I never thought about it that way, but maybe he’s right. People often don’t appreciate what they have until they can see it from someone else’s perspective.

When my cellphone buzzes I remove it from my pocket. “It’s Addie’s parents.” I tell Theo. Then I answer the call. “Hello?”

“Our plane just landed,” Mrs. Vance says. “We should be at the resort within the hour.”

“I’ll see you soon.”

She ends the call without saying anything else.

“We’d better head back to my room. The Vances are on their way.”

We finish what’s left of our soup and Theo tosses a twenty-dollar bill on the table.

“You don’t have to pay for my lunch,” I tell him.

“I insist,” he says and gives me a big smile.

The sky is so perfectly blue I feel like I’ve stepped into a postcard. “We should be on the beach.”

“I agree,” Theo says.

We both stare at the flawless tropical scenery in front of us for several moments before we head back into our building.

Once we’re back in my suite I open the slider to the balcony to let the fresh sea air inside the stuffy room.

“This is the perfect temperature,” I comment. “Back home it’s already in the 90s. And we don’t have the Gulf breeze.”

When he stands next to me to enjoy the beach view our hands are so close our skin is touching. My skin prickles with excitement.

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” he asks.

My body tenses. I’m not sure what I want. The more I get to know Theo, the more I like him. Even though he’s a bit of a geek, he’s nothing like my ex. I feel like I can trust him.

Theo inches his hand closer to mine. Before I have a chance to resist he laces our fingers together.

I consider pulling away, but I like the way our hands fit together. And I like the way it feels when we’re touching each other.

Just as I’m ready to relax into the moment and enjoy the ocean view there’s a pounding on the front door.

I hurry to answer it.

Mr. and Mrs. Vance charge into the room like stockcars on the starting line at Daytona. They’re both carrying small overnight bags with them.

“Where’s Addie’s stuff?” Mrs. Vance demands. She a woman on a mission.

I point to the bedroom. “In there.”

Mr. and Mrs. Vance march into the bedroom. Theo and I follow. They riffle through her things then close her suitcase and lock it.

“Is this everything?” Mrs. Vance stares at me intently.

I shake my head. “There are a few personal items in the bathroom. Shampoo, toothbrush and toothpaste, deodorant.”

That doesn’t seem to interest them. When they exit the bedroom, Theo and I trail behind.

We watch as the Vances poke around the living area.

“Is there something specific you’re looking for?” I ask.

Mrs. Vance turns to me. “Addie’s cellphone.”

Theo and I exchange a glance. Then Theo removes her phone from his pocket and hands it to her.

Mrs. Vance frowns. “What are you doing with this?”

He gulps. “We retrieved it from the wildlife refuge.”

“I don’t understand.” The creases in her forehead deepen.

“Someone threw her cellphone in a mangrove swamp. That’s where we found it.”

Mrs. Vance clicks the phone on. She doesn’t type in the passcode. She probably doesn’t know it. She clicks the phone off and places it in her handbag. Then as if she’s just realizing she doesn’t know who Theo is she furrows her brow and asks, “Who are you?”

He clears his throat. “I’m a graduate student. I’m on Spring Break. I’m staying in the room next door.”

That seems to satisfy her. She nods.

“We’re supposed to be getting further instructions from the kidnappers later this afternoon,” Mr. Vance tells us.

There’s a moment of awkwardness, the four of us standing there all staring at each other. Addie’s parents look like they’ve aged a decade in just a few days.

I decide to confront the elephant in the room head-on. “Where are you planning on staying?”

Mr. and Mrs. Vance glance at each other. Then Mr. Vance says, “We were hoping to be able to stay here. Use Addie’s bed.”

They did pay for the room.

“I guess I could sleep on the couch,” I mutter. Sharing a room with Addie is one thing. Sharing a room with her parents is another thing entirely.

“Stay with me,” Theo offers. “You could use my bed and I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I shake my head. “I can’t let you do that.”

“I insist,” he says.

It would be slightly less awkward than staying with Addie’s parents. “Okay.”

“Let’s get your stuff packed.” As Theo heads towards the bedroom I follow him.

“You don’t have to sleep on your couch,” I tell him as I grab my stuff from the dresser drawers and place it all back in my suitcase.

“I really don’t mind,” he assures me. “My suite doesn’t have two double beds. I have one king size bed.”

“Oh…” my voice trails off.

“Is there anything you want me to get from the bathroom?” he offers.

“It’ll only take a minute for me to grab everything. I don’t want you to accidently take something of Addie’s.”

As soon as I say my roommate’s name my voice cracks. As much as I hate to think about her planning her own kidnapping, in some ways it’s better than the alternative. If she really was kidnapped, who knows what they may have done to her.

I dart into the bathroom and toss all my personal hygiene products into a large plastic zip lock bag.

“That took less than a minute,” Theo says.

“What can I say. I’m not just a detective ninja. I’m a packing ninja too.”

Once I’ve got all my stuff back into my suitcase and I close it up Theo grabs it from the bed.

“You don’t have to carry that for me,” I tell him.

“I know. But I want to.”

When we reenter the living area Mr. and Mrs. Vance are standing at the slider staring out at the beach.

“I’m taking my stuff over to Theo’s room,” I tell them.

There’s no reply, not even a grunt.

Theo and I exit the suite and enter his room. It’s not quite as fancy as the suite I was in, and doesn’t have the same gorgeous ocean view. At least it’s a place to stay. I briefly consider flying back to Arizona, but I don’t have the money to change my ticket. And I’m still not sure exactly what’s going on. Addie may still need my help.

“Let me put your bag in the bedroom,” Theo suggests.

“I can sleep on the couch.” I did it before, I can do it again.

He shakes his head. “I want you to take the bedroom. I won’t take no for an answer.”

I give him a sly grin. “If you insist.”

“I do.” He carries my suitcase into the bedroom and I follow.

He places my bag on the bed. “Do you think Mr. and Mrs. Vance are involved in the kidnapping?”

“I don’t know what to think anymore. They are acting a little strange.”

He raises an eyebrow. “A little strange?”

“Stranger than normal.”

“I’ll let you get unpacked.” Theo turns to exit but hesitates. Then he turns back to face me. “I wanted to do this when we were looking out at the ocean but I didn’t get the chance.”

He places a soft kiss on my lips. “Was that okay?”

“Yes.” The word comes out of my mouth like a whisper, and a plea for more.

The follow-up kiss is hungry and filled with desire. It leaves me breathless and tingly all over.

When he pulls me closer, so that our bodies are touching, I feel how hard he is. Normally I don’t like things to move so quickly. I like to get to know a guy well before we start running the bases. But there’s something about Theo that I trust.

“Maybe we should both sleep in your bed tonight,” I suggest.

His eyes grow wide. “Are you sure?”

I laugh. “I’m not sure about anything anymore.”

“I don’t want you to think that’s the reason I invited you to stay with me.”

“It’s Spring Break. We’re supposed to be having fun.”

Theo looks a lot less enthusiastic about the idea of sleeping together than I thought he would be. “Maybe we should go back to the other room and see if the Vances have heard anything from the kidnappers.”

“Okay…” I’m confused by his sudden change of direction. Was I being too forward when I suggested that we sleep together?

I follow Theo out of his suite. We stand in front of the door to the room now being occupied by the Vances. Even though I still have my key to the room it feels awkward just to let myself back in. So I knock.

Mrs. Vance opens the door. She seems surprised to see us. “Brooklyn…Theo…come in.” She opens the door wider so that we can step inside.

“I should probably give you my room key.” I pull it from my pocket and hand it to her.

She snatches it from my hand more quickly than I expect her to. Then slips it into the pocket of her slacks.

I gasp when I notice Mr. Vance talking with two people dressed in business attire. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be in the room.

The man and woman march over to me and Theo as soon as they notice us. They both look like they’re in their early 30s. The woman is significantly shorter than the man, but no less intimidating. Neither one of them smile when they approach us.

“Who are you?” The woman glares at me.

I resist the urge to say, “Who are you?” right back to her. “I’m Brooklyn Winters,” I say instead.

She nods. “Addie’s roommate.”

“And you?” She points to Theo.

He clears his throat. “I’m Theo Hunter.”

The woman frowns. “And what’s your relationship to the family.”

“No relationship…I’m a friend of Brooklyn’s.”

“This is the crises response team,” Mr. Vance says as he joins us. “They were sent by the insurance company.”

Theo and I exchange a glance. “Insurance company?” I ask.

“The company I work for has kidnap ransom insurance for all employees and their family members. Engineers are asked to go into some dangerous areas in the Middle East, Africa and South America. It’s a precaution.”

“Who would have thought we’d need to use it for a Spring Break trip in Florida?” Mrs. Vance laughs nervously.

“I’m Emma Garcia, the lead negotiator.” Her tone is clipped. She’s all business. “And this is my associate, Ben Walker.”

I’m not sure what to say or do. Emma removes a notepad and pen from her suit jacket pocket. “Why don’t you tell me what happened when Addie was taken?”

My face heats. “I…um…don’t remember a lot. I believe I was drugged. We met some guys on the beach. They were playing volleyball. They invited us to have drinks with them. We met them at the pool bar. Addie said she wasn’t feeling well. One of the guys offered to take her back to the room. The next thing I know I passed out.”

“Would you describe the men for me?” Emma says.

“Matteo has dark hair and bright blue eyes. He’s well-built and attractive. He’s the one who bought us drinks. Isa has dark hair and eyes. Very muscular. Riker is the one who offered to take Addie back to the room. He’s the shortest of the three, but stocky. Brown hair and eyes.”

I leave out the part about Addie having a photo of the men on her phone. When I glance over at Mr. and Mrs. Vance they’re listening to my statements much less intently than I expect them to be. If it was my child who had been kidnapped I think I’d be much more interested in every detail.

Unless I was the one who set the whole thing up and already knew the details.

“Is there anything else you can tell me?” Emma looks deep into my eyes as if she’s trying to decide if I’m telling her the truth or lying.

“I don’t think Addie ever came back to the room. Her bed didn’t look slept in.”

Emma eyebrows raise. “Were you in your room that night?”

I cough nervously. “Theo took my back to his room.” Then I quickly add. “I slept on the couch.”

“I was worried about Brooklyn,” Theo pipes in. “I didn’t want her to be alone.”

“We found Addie’s phone dumped in a mangrove swamp,” I add.

Emma closes her notebook and extends her hand. “I’ll need that.”

I shake my head. “I don’t have it. I gave it to Mrs. Vance.”

“I don’t have it,” Mrs. Vance says quickly. “You’re mistaken, Brooklyn. You didn’t give me her phone.”

“Yes, I did. I handed it to you earlier.”

Mrs. Vance turns her attention to Emma. “The entire situation has obviously been stressful on Brooklyn. She’s confused. She never gave me the phone.”

I’m so stunned by her outright lies that when I open my mouth no words come out.

Emma looks me up and down. Then she says, “I’ll need that phone.”

“Get it from her.” I point to Mrs. Vance.

Mrs. Vance gives a nervous laugh. “I don’t have it.”

As Emma looks back and forth between the two of us, Theo steps up to Emma. “I saw Brooklyn give the phone to Mrs. Vance.”

Mr. Vance steps up next to Theo. “No, she didn’t. He’s lying.”

It’s a standoff. Two against two. Emma’s face scrunches and her mouth turns into an angry line. “I need that phone.”

Mrs. Vance crosses her arms in front of her. “I don’t have it.”

I place my hands on my hips and glare at Mrs. Vance. “Neither do I.”

There’s no doubt in my mind now that the Vances are someone involved with the kidnapping. There’s no other reason to lie about the phone.

Emma takes in a deep breath. “One way or another I’m going to get that phone.”

The room is so filled with heated tension it feels like a sauna. A buzz from Mr. Vance’s pants finally relieves some of the pressure.

He removes his phone from pocket and glances at the message. “It’s an email from the kidnappers. They want us to bring the money to the beach right next to the lighthouse at dawn tomorrow.”

Emma and Ben exchange a glance. Then Emma says, “Are there any other instructions?”

Mr. Vance clears his throat. “Don’t call the police or Addie is dead.”

“Email them back,” Emma says. “Ask for some kind of proof that she’s still alive.”

Mr. Vance types on his phone for a few moments. “Done.”

Almost immediately there’s a buzz on his phone. He frowns. “My email bounced back as undeliverable.”

“We normally don’t pay the ransom without some kind of proof of life,” Emma says.

Mrs. Vance sniffles. “We need to get our baby back.”

Two days ago I would have thought she was genuinely upset. Now I wonder if she’s just a good actor.

“We’ll go to the exchange tomorrow with the money,” Emma says. “But no payment will be made unless Addie is there and she’s alive and healthy.”

Mrs. Vance snuffles again then wipes at an imaginary tear on her cheek.

She’s a really good actor.

Emma removes two business cards from her jacket pocket. She hands one to me. “If you think of anything else, don’t hesitate to call.” Then she hands a card to Mrs. Vance. “Please let me know right away if you hear anything else from the kidnappers. My associate and I need to make arrangements to secure the funds. We’ll be back first thing tomorrow morning. Sunrise is at seven, so we’ll be here at six to pick you up.”

After Emma and Ben leave I turn to Mrs. Vance. “Why did you tell her that I didn’t give you Addie’s phone?”

She has a completely blank expression on her face. “I don’t remember you giving it to me.”

“I handed it to you right after we told you we retrieved it from the mangrove swamp.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t recall that.”

She’s either lying or she’s crazy. Maybe both. Either way I feel the desire to escape.

As if Theo is reading my mind, he says, “Maybe we’d better go back to my room.”

“Great idea.”

Chapter 10

“What now?” I ask Theo as I pace the living area of his suite.

“Maybe we should tell Emma Garcia what we know,” he suggests.

I stop and face him. “I don’t want Addie to get in trouble.”

“If she’s involved in a fake kidnapping she’s already in trouble. I don’t want you to get in trouble for withholding evidence.”

“Withholding evidence?” My stomach knots. “Emma and Ben aren’t cops. They work for the insurance company.”

“If the Vances are engaging in insurance fraud we should tell the insurance company everything we know.”

“Maybe you’re right.” I rub my brow. My head is still killing me. “But I can’t help feeling like I’m betraying Addie.”

Theo places his hands on my shoulders and looks into my eyes. “Addie’s the one who dragged you into this. Did you even stop to wonder why she paid for your trip to the island?”

I frown. “How did you know she paid for my trip?”

His eyes fill with panic. “You told me.”

I don’t remember telling him that. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “Let’s phone Emma and tell her what we know.” He seems eager to change the subject.

“Fine.” I pull her card from my pocket and dial her number.

She answers on the first ring. “Garcia.”

That seems like an odd way for someone from an insurance company to answer her phone. “This is Brooklyn Winters…”

“What can I do for you?” she says quickly.

“I…um…I wanted to let you know what I saw on Addie’s phone. Before I gave it to Mrs. Vance.”

“I’m listening.”

The woman really is all business. She doesn’t waste any words. Everything she says is sharp and to the point. “There was a photo of the kidnappers in her text messages. She received it before we met them on the beach. And in her deleted items folder we found an email from the university. They were threatening to kick her out of school because she hadn’t paid her tuition.”

“How were you able to read her messages?” Emma asks.

“I guessed her passcode. It was her cat’s birthday.”

“How did you retrieve her phone from a mangrove swamp?”

“Very carefully,” I quip.

There’s silence at the other end of the line.

“Because of the snakes and alligators.” Jokes are much less funny when you have to explain them.

“How did you know that the phone was in the swamp?” she clarifies.

I clear my throat. I don’t want Theo to get into trouble. “We tracked her phone.”

“Is that everything?” Emma’s tone is brisk.

“I guess so…” Her reaction is much less enthusiastic than I anticipated.

“If you think of anything else, you have my number.” She ends the call without even thanking me.

“That was rude,” I say under my breath.

“What did she say?” Theo asks.

“Not much.”

When he tries to pull me into his arms I push him away. “I’m sure I never told you that Addie paid for my trip. How did you know?”

My head is spinning I’m so confused. If Theo was somehow involved in the kidnapping, why would he insist that I call Emma Garcia to give her information? Something just doesn’t add up.

Theo heaves a long slow sigh. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”

“Find out what?”

“Please don’t be mad…”

My eyes narrow. “When someone prefaces what they’re going to say with don’t be mad, it’s usually a surefire sign that the other person is going to be furious.”

“I work for your dad and your uncles. They recently hired me to update the computer system at the security services office. Your dad said he’d pay me extra to fly to Florida for a week to keep my eye on you.”

My body slowly fills with anger. I become so enraged my arms start to shake. “You lied to me.”

He shakes his head. “I never lied to you about anything. Everything I’ve said about myself is true. I just didn’t tell you the whole truth. Please don’t be mad.”

“Too late,” I spit.

He tries to take my hand but I pull it away too quickly. “I can’t believe my dad paid you to babysit me behind my back.”

“It sounds a lot worse when you say it that way. He was just worried about you.”

“Was he going to pay you extra to sleep with me?” I shoot daggers at him.

He swallows hard before he speaks. “I think your dad would kill me if he knew that I touched you. I just couldn’t help it. I really like you. A lot.”

I place my hands over my face in an effort to stop myself from screaming in frustration. I take in a few deep breaths to calm down before I say something I’ll regret.

“This vacation sucks,” I say finally. What was supposed to be a week in paradise has turned into a trip from hell.

Theo laughs. Hard. When I remove my hands from my face and glance over at him he’s cracking up.

“You think it’s funny that my Spring Break is a disaster?” I spit.

“At least we’ll have a funny story to tell our kids when they ask how we met.”

My eyes go wide. “What are you talking about?”

He’s already got us married with kids and we haven’t even had a proper date yet. And right now I’m so angry at Theo I could spit bullets at him. Doesn’t he see that?

“You can’t tell me that you don’t like me. A lot. You practically begged me to sleep with you.”

I scowl at him. “I didn’t beg.” Did I? “Anyway, that was before I knew you were a traitor working for my father.”

“If I’m so bad why haven’t you packed up your stuff and left already?” When he looks into my eyes I get shivery again. Ugh, why do I have to find him so attractive? I’m supposed to be furious at him.

“That’s just what I was getting ready to do.” As I march into the bedroom he follows right on my heels.

“Where are you going to go?” He crosses his arms in front of him and gives me a self-satisfied grin.

He’s right. I have the hundred dollars my father gave me. That’s barely enough money for food. I don’t have the funds to spring for a three-hundred-dollar-a-night hotel room. Sanibel Island isn’t cheap.

I plop down on the bed and weep. All the tension must have finally come to a head. And now I’m releasing it in a major sobfest.

Theo kneels down on the floor in front of me. “I’m truly sorry. I had no idea I was going to fall for you.”

“What do you mean?” I sniffle. “Fall for me?”

“I wouldn’t have agreed to take the babysitting job, as you call it, if I had any idea that I was going to have these feelings for you.”

“What feelings?” I press.

“You know what feelings.” He gently moves his thumb across my cheeks and wipes away the tears that have dampened them. “I can tell you feel them too.”

He’s right. As angry as I want to be at Theo I’m still hopelessly attracted to him. There’s no way I can stay mad at him for very long.

“I’m going to give the money back to your dad.”

“I think you should keep it.”

He shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel right anymore.”

“I’m actually really surprised that you kissed me now that I know that you’ve met my dad. And you know how protective he is of me. And you know how big and tough he is.”

“He is quite intimidating. There’s no doubt about that. And I know how much he cares about you. But I care about you too. And I want to be with you. I’m not going to let anything stop me. Not even your overprotective father.”

I rub my temples. “I’m so confused right now. I need some time to think.”

“Okay…”

“Alone.” I rise from the bed and slip my flip-flops on. “I’m going to get some fresh air.”

Theo rises. “Maybe I should come with you.”

“I know you’re a smart guy. I’m sure you know the definition of alone.”

“I want to make sure you’re safe.”

I roll my eyes. “Now you’re starting to sound like my father.”

“Is that really such a bad thing?” Theo ask.

I heave a frustrated sigh. “I’ll be on the beach.”

Chapter 11

Theo is following me as I roam down the white sand shore. He is giving me my space, staying a few hundred yards behind me, but it’s not quite the same thing as actually being alone. If I’m being honest, I’m glad to know he’s there. That he’s concerned about me. That he wants to make sure I’m safe.

Maybe it’s not so bad that he’s a little like my father after all.

As much as I complain about my dad being overprotective I know it’s his way of showing me that he loves and cares about me. Maybe there’s merit to the psychologists’ claims that we’re attracted to people who resemble our parents. Theo doesn’t look like my dad, but he definitely has his overprotective qualities.

“Are you still mad at me?” I hear Theo call from behind me.

“It’s only been five minutes,” I shout back.

He lets out a loud sigh. He’s just as dramatic as my father is.

“Fine,” I concede. “You can walk with me.”

Theo is by my side within seconds. He hands me a sand dollar. “For you.”

It’s a flawless specimen. “Thank you.”

“It’s a flower from the sea.” He points to the lily-shaped design on the curved side of the sea creature. “As unique and lovely as you are.”

I laugh. “You really do come up with some cheesy lines.”

“I didn’t think it was bad for an IT guy. I’m a computer geek, not a poet.”

“I told myself that I wasn’t going to fall for another nerd.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Does that mean you’re falling for me?”

“I never said that…”

He grins. “It was implied.”

“Don’t get too cocky. I’m still mad at you.”

“What did you mean by another nerd?” he asks.

I let out a sigh. “The guy I dated in high school was President of the Math Club. He scored with every girl in the club behind my back.”

“I would never do that.”

Theo sounds sincere and I want to believe him. “You did lie to me already.”

“I also told you the truth.” He stops in front of me and looks into my eyes. “I would never cheat on you. I would never do anything to hurt you. That I can promise.”

I glance over the Gulf of Mexico. The water today is calm and serene. Living in the Sonoran Desert my entire life, I never realized how much I would enjoy the ocean. I didn’t know what I was missing.

A seagull flies by and squawks at us.

“It’s a sign,” Theo says.

I turn back to face him. “A sign of what?”

“When a seagull caws, it means true love is in the air.”

I narrow my gaze at him. “Did you just make that up?”

He shakes his head. “I’m sure I read it somewhere.”

“I think you’re just trying to get lucky.”

He grins. “Is it working?”

“Maybe…should we go back to the room and find out?”

I place a soft kiss on Theo’s lips. “Feeling lucky yet?”

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

The air between us is heating up. I slowly remove my shirt. Then toss it on a chair in the corner of the bedroom.

Theo’s eyes are wide and his mouth is agape.

“What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Please proceed.”

I unbutton my shorts and step out of them. I toss them onto the chair with my shirt.

Theo doesn’t take his eyes from mine as he closes the distance between us. “Are you sure about this?”

“I’m very sure.”

I remove my bra and toss it with the rest of my clothing. My panties come off next and they join the pile.

Theo’s mouth pops back open as he gawks at my naked body. He seems to be in shock.

“You’re still fully clothed,” I remind him.

My comment seems to knock him out of his stupor. “I can fix that. No worries.”

I grin at him. “I’m not worried.”

He kicks off his shoes and removes his socks. Then he quickly undresses. He tosses his clothing next to mine on the chair.

I take my time checking out the full package. I’ve only had one serious boyfriend, the high school nerd who cheated in me, so I don’t have a lot of basis for comparison.

But I do like what I see standing in front of me.

Theo is muscular, but not too big. He’s kind of like Goldilocks’s third bowl of porridge—just right.

“I don’t have any condoms,” he says nervously.

I grin. “I’ve got some.”

“Were you planning on having sex?”

“I was hoping to,” I admit. “Isn’t that what Spring Break is for?”

He shrugs. “I never actually got to go on a real Spring Break trip.”

“It’s never too late to have a Spring Break fling,” I tease.

Before I realize what’s happening he lifts me into his arms and carries me over to the bed. He gently sets me down so my head is on the pillow.

Then he stares at me for several moments. His eyes roaming the length of my body.

“What’s wrong?”

“Absolutely nothing. You’re perfect. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re funny. Maybe I should pinch myself just to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

I laugh. “Compliments will get you everywhere. Now get into bed.”

“Are you sure that wasn’t too cheesy?”

“Maybe a little.” I slide over a few feet and tap the bed with my palm. “Join me?”

When he climbs into bed with me I can feel the heat radiating from his body.

He’s already deliciously hard and ready for action. Time to get my engine revved too. “Kiss me,” I urge.

Theo’s entire body tenses and the color drains from his face. He looks like he might be sick.

“Are you okay?”

He slowly moves his head up and down, but it’s not a very convincing gesture.

I place my hand on his chest. His heart is pounding like a bass drum. “Are you nervous?”

His response is more nodding.

“Why?”

He swallows. Then he clears his throat. “What if it’s not perfect?”

I don’t mean to laugh, but I do. “It’s our first time together. I doubt it will be perfect. It will probably be awkward and clumsy. Wasn’t it that way the first time you were with your ex-girlfriend?”

“And she left for me another guy. One she’s now engaged to.”

“It wasn’t awkward and clumsy every time the two of you were together, was it?”

He shrugs uncomfortably.

“Maybe the two of you weren’t a good fit. Maybe you weren’t supposed to be together.”

He lightly strokes the side of my face. “It’s important to me that I satisfy you.”

“We’ll never know until we try,” I hint.

He places a tentative hint of a kiss on my mouth. It’s so soft, it tickles my lips.

When he pulls away there’s so much uncertainty in his eyes it’s heart-wrenching. Did his ex-girlfriend drain all his confidence when she broke his heart?

I place my hands on his face and kiss him. This time I don’t let him pull away. “I want to be with you,” I whisper. “I want you, Theo.”

My words seem to do the trick. The tension releases from his body.

His next kiss is deep and filled with desire. My body tingles in response. As he moves down my neck with light butterfly kisses I get shivery all over.

“You really want me?” he asks.

“I really do,” I reply.

“No part of your body should be left unkissed,” he whispers in my ear.

“Is that a promise?”

“Absolutely.”

Theo keeps his word. He works his way down my body like a man on a mission placing sensuous kisses on every inch of my bare skin that he can reach.

He’s definitely got my motor running. Now let’s see what he can do when he shifts into gear.

The pure desire in Theo’s eyes takes my breath away. It’s difficult for me to image him not performing well. There’s nothing awkward or clumsy about the way our bodies respond to each other.

“Are you ready?” There’s still a bit of hesitancy in his voice.

“Very,” I moan. I’ve never felt so overcome with desire.

He reaches for the condom that has fallen between the pillows. He fumbles with the wrapper for a few seconds then finally tears it open with his teeth. Once he has it in place he seems a bit more self-assured.

As he moves between my legs I prepare myself for the initial stab of pain. It’s been nearly a year since I broke up with my high school boyfriend. That’s a long time to go without sex.

I do my best to relax as he pushes inside of me.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you,” he says.

“It’s fine,” I assure him.

Once I’m over the initial shock it really is fine. More than fine. Our bodies seem to be in synch with each other. There’s a mutual tempo as he pushes in and out of me and my body responds to his rhythm.

Waves of ecstasy move through me and for a moment I’m transported to a place of pure pleasure.

But then he stops and I wonder what’s wrong. “Why did you stop?”

“I want to make this last.”

I smile at him. “You know we can do it again. This can be the warm-up round.”

“Maybe that was the problem with my ex. We never got past the warm-ups.”

As I cover his mouth with mine and give him a kiss, he slowly thrusts in and out of me again.

“Pick up the pace,” I urge.

“Okay.”

Theo is very good at following instructions. He drives into me hard and faster. It’s just what I need to get my motor running again.

“More,” I mutter. “Don’t stop.”

He thrusts into me over and over until I finally cry out, a floodtide of bliss overtaking me.

After several more strokes he finally moans and shudders, finding his release. Then he wraps me in his arms and pulls me close.

“How was that for the warm-up?” he teases.

I open my mouth, but no words come out. He’s shagged me speechless.

“Was it okay? he asks a bit more tentatively.

“More than okay,” I managed to squeak.

“So you are in favor of another round?” He raises an eyebrow.

I give him a satisfied smile. “Most definitely.”

Chapter 12

I’m awakened by pounding on the front door. Theo and I must have fallen asleep after the marathon sex session.

When I touch his shoulder to wake him he practically jumps out of bed. “What is it?”

“There’s someone at the front door.”

He wipes the sleep from his eyes as he rises. I follow him out of the bed. The pounding hasn’t stopped. If anything, it seems to be getting louder.

I pull a t-shirt and a pair of old shorts from my suitcase. Theo does the same. I quickly run my hands through my hair and try to tame my thick mane. Theo’s hair isn’t as easy to manage. There’s no hiding the fact that he was sleeping. It doesn’t help that he has a pillow line imprinted on his cheek.

We hurry to the front door. Theo looks through the peephole. “Oh, no…”

“Who is it?” My heart is pounding in my chest.

“Your dad.”

My entire body stiffens. I’m immobilized with fear. “Should I hide?”

“There’s nowhere to hide,” he says. “The closet isn’t wide enough.”

“I could probably fit in the cabinet under the bathroom sink.”

He frowns. “I don’t want you to do that.”

“It’s better than my dad murdering us.”

The pounding gets louder. It sounds like he’s kicking the door.

“I know you’re in there,” my dad shouts. “I can hear your voices.”

My heart is beating so rapidly I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack. Is that possible? I’m not even in my 20s yet.

When Theo unlocks the door I feel like I’m going to pass out. As soon as the door opens my dad storms into the suite.

He’s so angry his face is flush. The veins on his neck are bulging and pulsating. Maybe I should be worried about my dad having a heart attack rather than me.

He takes in a deep breath before he speaks. Then he fires his words like bullets. “What are you doing here?”

I gulp. “I’m on Spring Break, remember?” My voice sounds so timid I barely recognize it.

My dad’s eyes narrow to angry slits. I can’t say I’ve ever seen him this furious before. “What are you doing in Theo’s room?”

“I…um…” I wonder how obvious it is that we recently had sex.

Theo steps between us. “This is all my fault.”

My dad points a finger at him. He’s still so mad the digit is shaking. “I’ll deal with you in a minute.”

Theo visibly withers like a flower in the hot sun.

“I can explain,” I tell my father even though I have no idea how I’m going to do that.

He crosses his thick arms in front of his massive chest. Is it possible my dad has gotten even more muscular in the days since I’ve seen him? “I’m listening.”

“Addie’s parents needed to use the room that they booked for us. So Theo offered to let me stay with him.”

My dad shoots daggers at Theo. “How generous.” His words are oozing with sarcasm.

“I told Brooklyn I would sleep on the couch,” Theo adds.

“And is that where you were sleeping? On the couch?”

Theo’s forehead creases with deep worry lines. “Not exactly.”

“I hired you to watch my daughter. Not have sex with her.”

If there was a very large rock anywhere in sight I’d already be crawling underneath it. It’s bad enough being an only child. I’ve also always been daddy’s little girl.

“I’m sorry.” Those are the only words Theo can muster.

“You’re the one who should be sorry,” I say to my dad. He and Theo both look at me like I’ve gone nuts.

“What was that?” My dad’s voice seems to have raised an octave.

“You’re the one who should be sorry,” I repeat with a little more confidence. “I’m an adult. You should have never hired someone to follow me. You should have trusted that I could take care of myself.”

“It doesn’t look like you’re doing a very good job of that.”

“I’ll admit that my Spring Break hasn’t exactly gone as I’ve planned.”

“What are Mr. and Mrs. Vance doing on the island?” he asks pointedly.

I rub my temples. My head is already starting throb again. “Addie may have been kidnapped.”

My dad’s eyes grow so wide that his eyebrows nearly disappear under his hairline. “Why didn’t you tell me that?” Then he turns to face Theo. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“I didn’t want to upset you,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “This is unbelievable.”

“If you’re not here because of Addie’s kidnapping, why are you here?”

He heaves a sigh. “I’ve been tracking your phone. I noticed that you were spending a lot of time in this room, and I knew it was the room that Theo was staying in. I wanted to see what was going on.” He makes a point of looking back and forth between me and Theo. “Exactly what I suspected.”

“I can’t believe you were tracking my phone. Let me guess. Theo taught you to do that.”

Theo’s cheeks turn red with embarrassment. “I didn’t realize it would come back to bite me in the butt.”

“You should have told me about Addie.” My dad’s tone is serious.

“I was afraid that a scene like this would happen. I was right.”

“I have connections in the FBI,” my dad reminds me.

“Addie’s parents said no police. They were adamant about it.”

“I don’t report to Addie’s parents.” My dad pulls his cellphone from his pocket.

I grab his arm. “Wait…don’t.”

He turns to face me. “What is it?”

“I think Addie or her parents, maybe all three of them, set up the kidnapping. To get the insurance money.”

“Why do you say that?”

I tell my dad about the photo we found on Addie’s phone and the overdue tuition notice.

He shakes his head. “If it is a setup, they’re terrible criminals. If you and Theo could figure it out that quickly, so will the insurance company, and the FBI.”

“I don’t want Addie to get in trouble.”

My dad places his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t want you to get in trouble. If Addie is involved, she’ll have to face the consequences of her actions.”

“I’ve already told the insurance company everything I know.”

“That’s good. But we also need to go the authorities.”

“I’ve told you everything I know.” I feel like I’ve repeated the story to my father’s FBI buddy, Agent Orlando Torres, a million times.

“Let me talk to your dad again.”

I hand the cellphone to my father and breathe a small sigh of relief. All I wanted to do was lie on the beach and watch hot guys play volleyball. Was that too much to ask for a Spring Break trip?

Theo takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I try to muster a smile in return. I’m emotionally drained and physically exhausted. I’m beginning to think that doing filing for Tilly, my dad’s office manager, would have been a much more restful way to spend my vacation.

Once my dad ends the call with Agent Torres he turns his attention to Theo. “We need to discuss the sleeping arrangements.”

“Dad,” I interrupt. “I’m eighteen…”

He holds up a hand and stops me midsentence. “I’m paying for this room, so I set the rules.”

“Why don’t you just take me home with you?” I sigh.

My dad embraces me in a hug. “I really do want you to have fun on your trip.”

“You’re not acting like it.”

“Maybe you could pretend not to be sleeping together. Just to give me a little piece of mind.”

“Are you worried that I’ll get pregnant like Mom did when she was in college?”

He frowns. “Maybe…”

I place a hand on his arm. “You don’t have worry. I’m on birth control. And we used condoms.”

He winces. “As much as I appreciate knowing that, it might be a little too much information.”

I place a kiss on his cheek. “I just don’t want you to worry.”

Our moment of father-daughter bonding is interrupted by screaming in the hallway.

My dad rushes out the front door and Theo and I follow.

I gasp when I see Addie stumbling towards us. Her clothes are filthy and torn and her face is swollen and bloody.

“Help me!” She gasps for breath between blood-curdling shouts. “Please!”

She falls into my dad’s arms and he pulls her into Theo’s room.

“Lock the door,” my dad orders as he places Addie on the couch.

I quickly bolt the door, but it still doesn’t feel like enough protection. My stomach knots as I hurry to Addie’s side and realize how badly she’s been beaten.

“They want to kill me,” she mutters.

“Why?” I ask.

“The money…” When she coughs blood spews out all over her hand. “The guys want all the money. They said they were going to kill my parents tomorrow.”

“We need to get you to a hospital,” I tell her.

She grabs ahold of my arm. “They’ll find me. They’ll kill me.”

“I’ll make sure you’re safe,” my dad assures her.

“Where were you?” I ask her. “How did you escape?”

“They brought me to a campground on the island where they had a tent set up. They were drinking and they decided it was time to get rid of me. They started hitting me, but I fought back. They were so drunk they got tangled up in the tent and I managed to run away.”

“The closest hospital is on the mainland in Ft. Myers,” Theo says. “It’s about ten miles away.”

“I’ll carry her down to the car,” my dad says. “Are you okay to drive?” he asks Theo.

“Yes, sir.”

“I should let Mr. and Mrs. Vance know,” I say.

My dad shakes his head. “We don’t know how deeply they’re involved in this.”

“You don’t think they’d want their own daughter…”

“No,” Addie whispers. “They wouldn’t…”

“We’ll phone them from the hospital,” my dad says.

Fortunately the hospital isn’t very crowded and they take Addie into a room right away. My dad tells me he’s going to phone Agent Torres and that I should contact Addie’s parents.

“Just tell them that she escaped from the kidnappers and that she’s beat up pretty badly. Don’t say anything else.”

“I’ve got it,” I assure him.

“I’ll check on Addie,” Theo says. “It’ll make me feel useful.”

“I’ll meet you over there in a few minutes.”

I quickly dial Mrs. Vance’s cellphone number.

“Brooklyn?” She sounds surprised by my call.

I tell her that I’m at the hospital with Addie and that she’s injured pretty badly.

“I don’t understand,” she sputters.

I repeat a shortened version of what I just said.

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” she cries.

“What was supposed to happen?” I say sharply.

She hangs up on me.

I join Theo at the nurses’ station. “Your friend has internal bleeding,” a nurse says. “We’re prepping her for surgery.”

“Will she be okay?” I ask.

“It’s good that you got her here when you did.”

My dad joins us a few seconds later. “How is Addie?”

“She’s going into surgery,” I tell him.

“Two local FBI agents will be meeting us here is a few minutes,” my dad says. “In the waiting area.”

Theo and I follow my dad into the waiting room. We’re the only three people in the stuffy area. I’m too anxious and my body is too hyped up with adrenaline to take a seat. So I pace instead. I’d use the tired cliché that I feel like a lion in a cage, except that there’s nothing lionlike about me, and I don’t think comparing myself to a kitten in a cage carries the same punch.

Imagine my surprise when Emma Garcia and Ben Walker enter the room. Only this time the two of them are sporting badges and guns on their belts.

“You’re police officers?” I mutter, mostly to myself.

Emma apparently hears me because she replies, “FBI.”

“Addie is going into surgery,” I tell her.

She nods. “As soon as she’s stabilized we’re placing her under arrest.”

“She’s a victim. Those men beat her up. They wanted to kill her.”

“She’s also a criminal,” Emma says matter-of-factly.

It’s a tough pill to swallow. I’ve been living with someone involved in criminal activity. I trusted her and now it looks like she was using me as a cover for the crime.

“The kidnappers. They’re still out there. Addie said they wanted to kill her parents.”

Emma shakes her head. “They were arrested by local police who were called to the campground where they were staying. It was initially a noise complaint. They got them for public intoxication. Drunk and disorderly. Assaulting a police officer. By the time we add our charges they won’t see the light of day for a while.”

“What about Addie?” I ask. “Will she go to prison?”

Emma nods. “Most likely. If she’s willing to testify against the kidnappers and her co-conspirators, there’s a possibility she could get a lighter sentence.”

“Her co-conspirators are her parents. Do you really think she’ll testify against them?”

“They used her to try to score a payday. They used you too.”

I rub my forehead. My headache has returned with a vengeance. “I really need to lie down.”

My attention is drawn to the entryway when Mr. and Mrs. Vance come rushing into the waiting area. They’re both completely disheveled, as if they threw on wrinkled clothes from the dirty laundry and didn’t bother to look in the mirror.

Mrs. Vance’s eyes immediately land on Agent Emma Garcia. “What are you doing here?” Then after a moment she adds, “Why do you have a gun?”

“We’re with the FBI,” Agent Garcia says.

Mrs. Vance’s jaw drops. Then her mouth opens and closes like a puppet several times but no words come out.

“You and your husband are under arrest,” Agent Garcia says.

Agent Garcia and her partner, Agent Ben Walker, place Mr. and Mrs. Vance in handcuffs and lead them out of the hospital.

My dad, Theo and I are quiet for several moments as the events of the last few days sink in.

My head is pounding. “I’d really like to go back to the resort and get a few hours of sleep while Addie is in surgery.”

“We could all use some rest,” my dad says.

“Where do you plan on staying?” I ask my dad.

“Maybe I should get a room for you and me to stay in,” he offers.

I place a hand on his arm. “I’m staying with Theo.”

He nods. It’s a reluctant gesture, but it’s a small step in the right direction.

“No one is staying in the room the Vances rented for me and Addie,” I tell him. “I have a connection at the front desk. I’m registered as a guest in that room. I think I can convince him to give me another room key.”

Chapter 13

“The surgery went well,” the head nurse tells me and Theo. “Addie is resting in a private room. We thought it would be best considering the circumstances.”

“What circumstances?” I ask.

The nurse flinches. “Maybe you’d better see for yourself. She’s in 226.”

My dad told us he had some work to do when we checked on him. I was taken aback when he told us to go ahead and visit Addie without him. Then added that Theo should make sure that I’m okay. I don’t want to read too much into it, but it almost sounded like he’s warming up to the idea of Theo and I being together.

When Theo and I approach Addie’s room it becomes clear what the nurse meant by considering the circumstances. There’s a police officer stationed outside of her room.

The officer looks us up and down when we approach.

I clear my throat. “We’re here to visit Addie Vance.”

“And you are?” He eyes me suspiciously.

“I’m her roommate.”

The officer turns his attention to Theo. “And you are?”

He points to me. “I’m with her. Theo Hunter. I’m her—um—boyfriend.”

“Can I see some ID?” The officer asks.

I pull my wallet from my handbag and remove my driver’s license. I show it to the officer. He nods. Theo shows the officer his ID as well.

“Five minutes,” the officer says.

I enter Addie’s room and Theo follows. She’s hooked up to an IV and several monitors. She looks frail and weak. “Brooklyn.” Her voice is raspy.

“We wanted to check in to make sure you’re okay.”

I notice that she’s handcuffed to the bed. “I’ve been better.”

“The nurse said the surgery was successful.” It’s the most optimistic thing I can think of to say.

“I’m alive, but my life is over.”

I shake my head. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m getting kicked out of school. I’ll be going to prison. I’m going to be a convicted felon. Not the bright future I was hoping for.”

There’s not much I can say that will make her feel better. She’s going to have to face the consequences of her actions. “Why did you do it?” I ask.

She glances towards the window and blinks back tears. “It was my mom’s idea. My dad and I went along with it. She found out that my dad’s company has kidnapping insurance. It’s not something that they make known to employees exactly for this reason. They don’t want them to set up fake kidnappings for the insurance money.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier just to get a student loan?” I ask.

She gives me a single cold laugh in return. “It wasn’t just about the tuition money. My parents lost everything in an investment scam. Every bit of their savings, even their house. I guess they felt like they had nothing more to lose and everything to gain.”

“Officer Garcia said that if you testify…”

She shakes her head. “I can’t do that. They’re my parents.”

I take her hand and give it a squeeze. “Please think about it. You’re only eighteen. You have your whole life ahead of you.”

“I know what I did was wrong. It was my decision to get involved.”

“Please let me know if you need anything,” I tell her.

She glances over at Theo. “So you decided to go for the nerdy guy after all?”

“You were right. He’s the right guy for me.”

Theo grins.

“You can have all of my stuff,” Addie says. “I won’t be needing it where I’m going.”

“I’ll box it up and save it for you,” I tell her. “Do you need me to take care of Tiger?”

She shakes her head. “He’s with a cat sitter. She loves him. She’ll be able to take care of him.”

“We’re only allowed to stay for five minutes.”

She nods. “Thank you for not hating me. I’m really sorry I dragged you into all of this.”

“It’s not exactly the Spring Break trip I imagined. But one positive thing did come out of it.” I grab ahold of Theo’s hand.

“Promise you’ll call me if you need anything,” my dad says.

“I promise,” I tell him.

Theo and I are standing in the parking lot with him. As nice as it is to know how much my dad cares about me, it’s also nice to see him going back home.

“Let me know as soon as you get back to Arizona,” he adds.

“I will.”

He gives me a hug. Then he shakes Theo’s hand. “Are you sure I can’t buy you breakfast?”

“We’ll be fine,” I assure him. “Have a safe flight back to Arizona.”

He gives me a quick nod before he climbs into his rental car. Theo and I watch as he drives away from the resort.

“We’ve got three more days on Sanibel Island,” Theo says. “What do you feel like doing?”

“What I’ve wanted to do since I got here. Lie on the beach and listen to the waves beating against the shore while I watch a sexy shirtless guy playing volleyball.”

“I can definitely play volleyball, but do you think I’m sexy enough to fulfill your Spring Break fantasy?”

I place a soft kiss on his lips. Then I whisper in his ear. “You’re sexy enough to fulfill all of my fantasies.”

He grins. “Then we’d better get started on your list.”

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Two Reckless Hearts

A Barrett Ridge Novella

Holly Cortelyou

One beach resort. Two ambitious rivals. Will steamy island nights tempt these enemies to become lovers? Escape into the Barrett Ridge romances and lose yourself in captivating, heart-melting happy-ever-afters!

Weddings mess up everything.

Jami Barrett is fed up. First, she’s jilted by her fiancé, then she’s expected to endure her sister’s crazy Caribbean wedding. Now, her arch rival has crashed the party! But Beck Kavanagh is more than just the black-hearted foe set to ruin the family’s business and her chance to win her father’s trust; he’s the groom’s brother. To make matters worse, she can’t stop daydreaming about Beck’s laughing gray eyes and his surprisingly soft heart. With a make-or-break deal and her loyalty in the balance, Jami’s feeling the pressure…and the heat of her hidden desire.

Beck Kavanagh has no time for sarcastic, competitive women, especially one who’s his real estate adversary and newest in-law. Jami’s out for his blood, and all he wants is to keep the peace. Yet, her sharp wit and delicious curves make him yearn for a midnight tropical tryst. When a wacky treasure hunt goes haywire, and Jami tumbles into his arms, Beck knows he’s met his match and found his one true love.

Five sultry nights. Two reckless hearts. One family wedding. What could go wrong?

To My Favorite Truck Driver who took me on my first trip to the Caribbean.

I love you to the moon and back.

Chapter 1

The last thing Jami Barrett expected was a wedding crasher. Seriously, who infiltrated a private party on an exclusive island resort? But there he was, Beck Kavanagh, sucking up to the bartender.

Jami glared at the back of the dark-haired, broad-shouldered man. She knew that stupid, swirling cowlick in the middle of his lush, brown curls like the back of her hand. She’d stared at it for seventy minutes straight at the county commissioner’s hearing last month. It was definitely Beck Kavanagh, the CEO of BK Industries. Fabulous. What was he doing in the middle of the Caribbean at her sister’s wedding?

He was the one thing standing between her and a successful real estate purchase for her family’s business expansion plans. During the land use committee meeting, he and his lawyer had matched her every argument and outflanked the strategies employed by her and the family attorney.

Jami glanced around to see if her father had noticed what was going on. Nope. Teddy Barrett was nowhere in sight yet. Thank goodness. The last thing he needed was more stress, not after finally healing from open heart surgery.

Jami narrowed her gaze, and without conscious volition, marched across the pool deck toward her enemy malingering by the bar. Okay. It was an all-inclusive resort, so he had every right to drink, but really!

“Mr. Kavanagh?” Beck turned toward her with a friendly expression in his gray eyes, but it faded as he seemed to recognize her. “I’m sorry, you’re going to have to leave.” Jami pointed toward the stairs leading down to the main public pool area. “This is a private gathering. No outsiders allowed.”

“Aren’t you a long way from home?” Beck Kavanagh stared coldly at Jami. He straightened his back, and his broad shoulders, encased in a sleek white shirt, suddenly seemed even more imposing. “What are you doing here?” Beck flicked a dismissive glance at her.

Jami bridled at his condescending tone. “Once again, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

“You seem to have me confused with someone else.” He looked away with disinterest as he picked up his drink. “I’m right where I’m supposed to be.”

“Are you spying on us, Mr. Kavanagh?” Jami couldn’t believe his insistence on remaining. What was his game?

“Get over yourself.” Beck scowled. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Jami! Beck!” A woman with shoulder-length blond hair patted Jami on the arm.

It was Anna, the bride-to-be, and she appeared to be chummy with public enemy number one, Beck Kavanagh. Jami swallowed against the knot forming in the pit of her belly. Something wasn’t right here. Beck’s eyebrow shot up as he gave Jami a flinty, hard look.

“Oh, Jami, it looks like you’ve already met Beck.” Anna touched Beck’s arm. “He’s one of my new in-laws.

“Half-brother-in-law.”

“That’s way too complicated.” Anna laughed. “Either you’re family, or you’re not. Rob says nothing but wonderful things about you.” Anna tilted her head and smiled at Jami. “We’re siblings now. One nice, big family.”

Beck shot Jami a so-there look. She bit her lip and wondered why she was always rushing into things headlong without first considering the consequences. But then she thought about her father’s stress levels at seeing the main competitor to their business expansion plans, and Jami knew she’d go to battle any day for her father. She lifted her chin and stared back at Beck.

Beck broke eye contact and smiled graciously at Anna. “What would you like to drink?”

“That’s a lovely idea.” Anna turned to the bartender and discussed the merits of a chardonnay versus a mango rum slushy. Beck looked over Jami’s head with a bland expression. Jami smiled serenely although she was steaming on the inside.

“Where’s your handsome groom?” Jami accepted the fruity adult smoothie and clicked Anna’s identical glass with a grin.

“Rob’s checking on his mother.” Anna glanced at Beck. “She seemed to have some kind of problem with her luggage at the airport.”

Beck’s eyebrows drew together in a crease, and Jami filed away his pained expression for future reference.

“There’s Rob now.” Anna waved and made a beeline to her beloved.

As if the Red Sea had parted, a steady file of chattering adults and kids strolled through the leafy-framed opening to the private pool patio. Jami sighed with relief. At least she would have reinforcements in her battle. All of her family, and now the delight of meeting Anna’s future in-laws, and unfortunately, one Beckham Kavanagh.

With laughter and teasing, the introductions proceeded. Jami exchanged greetings with Anna’s fiancé, Rob and then met Rob’s preteen sons, Carl and Ryan. Her oldest brother, Austin, gave her a big hug, and she exchanged squeezes with Jo and Sam, her two sisters. As Anna continued the introductions, Jami noted that Rob and Beck looked little alike, and only seemed to share a similar hairline and square jaw. She shrugged. They were only half-brothers according to Beck.

A few minutes later, Teddy Barrett and his wife, Caitlynne, appeared at the top of the stairs with Daphne and Mae, their twin six-year-old daughters, in tow. Jami was relieved to see her father was in good spirits and didn’t seem too fatigued by the long flight from Oregon.

Her stepmother, Caitlynne, looked as if she’d stepped out of a fashion magazine with her blue and white striped maxi dress, delicately bejeweled sandals, and artfully tousled hair. Her eyes were perfectly lined in black, and her fake eyelashes surely must be extensions. She was high-maintenance and looked like a candidate from The Bachelor. Although she and Jami were the same age, Jami had little in common with her stepmother.

Within a short time, the twins were splashing in the pool with Rob’s boys, and then Jami’s youngest brother, Kyle, strolled in with a beer in hand and an easy greeting for all.

Jami stood out of Caitlynne’s line of sight and waited for the onslaught to start. She wondered idly who would be victim number one? Because, of course, no gathering was complete without Caitlynne proving to her husband that his daughters were deficient and clearly not as perfect as their own two progeny.

“Of course, we thought this would be your wedding, didn’t we?” Jami’s stepmother looked all innocent. Oh goody. She was first on Caitlynne’s hotlist tonight. “What is your old fiancé doing now? Didn’t Eric get that promotion?”

“I didn’t hear anything about a new job,” Teddy Barrett said, “but Evelyn Greenwood told me his new wife is having a baby in the fall.” Jami’s dad looked supremely unaware of the spear he’d casually harpooned into Jami’s heart.

Lovely. Caitlynne was a fluffy Labradoodle on the outside, but a bitchy barracuda on the inside. There was nothing she liked better than to lob bunker-buster bombs at her stepchildren. How charming of her to bring up her ass-hat of an ex who’d jilted her during his bachelor party the month before their wedding. The wound was six months old, but Caitlynne just had to pour some pickle juice on this papercut.

Jami swizzled the straw around the pale golden party drink and wished her glass wasn’t half-empty. Ha! Her glass was always full. No self-pity allowed. She peeked up at Beck, and his expression was speculative but sympathetic. Dammit. The last thing she wanted was sympathy from the black-hearted Beck. It was best to appear above the fray and supremely indifferent.

“I heard that his wife is expecting twins. Boys, I believe.” Jami schooled her features into impassivity as if she was merely sharing details of the of a half-inch of rainfall in the middle of winter instead of the hurricane of destruction that had leveled her personal life last fall.

“Eric’s wife looks like she’s having quadruplets,” Sam chimed in as she took Jami’s old drink and exchanged it for a fresh one. “And she’s only four months along.” She winked at Jami and took her place in their circle.

“She has cankles already.” Jo smiled serenely at Caitlynne and the rest of the goggle-eyed Edwards-Kavanagh clan. Jami loved her loyal sisters.

Caitlynne sniffed and tucked her arm through her husband’s. “It was a front page article that Eric is the newest partner at his firm.”

“How did you let him get away?” Teddy clucked his tongue and shook his head. “Poor Jami, such a disappointment.” Jami’s stomach muscles clenched as if she’d been sucker punched in the gut. Did he mean that it was sad that Eric had run off from her, or was he implying she was a disappointment of a daughter?

Jami hoped her cheeks weren’t flaming pink because it sure felt like her face was on fire. Beck sent her a fleeting, piteous glance before he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. Her fingers itched to squeeze into a fist, but she held still, as Austin slipped into the growing circle.

“Jami’s lucky she escaped.” Austin threw a nod her direction. “Eric was a total tool. Who runs off with a lap dancer at his own bachelor party?”

Anna pressed her lips together and exchanged a look with Sam, while Jo choked on her drink. Jami decided she might need to murder her entire family. She loved her siblings, but seriously, enough with the airing of her dirty laundry in front of a stranger. A stupidly gorgeous stranger who happened to be her arch nemesis.

Jami stared at her red polished toes and wondered if her dignity was lying in shreds around her feet. Jami checked Beck’s reaction. Yup, she definitely detected a decided smirk on Beck’s lips and merriment lurking in his gray eyes. Jerk.

Rob circled his arm around Anna but shot Jami a sympathetic look. Jami immediately warmed to Anna’s groom. At least one of Anna’s new family might be kind and decent.

“Beck, aren’t you in the process of moving your company to Oregon?” Rob smiled easily at his brother. “Is it anywhere near Barrett Ridge?” Jami blessed his heart for mercifully changing the subject, but seriously, this topic was no better.

Austin and Teddy turned toward Beck.

Beck nodded. “Not just close, but in Barrett Ridge.”

“No kidding.” Austin cocked his head as if searching his memory banks. “What kind of business do you operate?”

“I’ve founded an electric motorcycle business.” Beck smiled. “We’ve been growing lately and need a new place to call home. We’re bidding on a piece of property and hope to hear soon.” Beck’s voice was bland, and Jami’s nostrils flared.

“The little thing that Beck is glossing over is that he is BK Industries.” Jami met Beck’s gaze. There was a flash of irritation, and then his neutral expression fell back into place. “He was the surprise, last-minute bid for the Anderton property.” Jami couldn’t help but let irritation filter into her voice. She and the family attorney had only found out about BK Industries rival bid a few minutes before the commissioners’ hearing.

Jami turned her head and waited for her father’s reaction. With the old man, she could never guess if he’d fly off the handle, go stone cold silent, or just blame her for the misfortune. Jami inhaled and planted the hint of a tiny smile at the corner of her mouth. Never let anyone see her sweat. Not her father. Not Beck Kavanagh.

Jami side-eyed Beck. And certainly she wouldn’t give Beck even the remotest hint that she needed this deal. Her father’s health was on the line and his trust in her.

“That’s interesting.” Teddy sucked air through his teeth. “Such a coincidence.” Teddy’s tone was jovial, but there was no laughter in his expression.

“Well, doesn’t this make our little soiree a tad more interesting.” Kyle gave a carefree laugh that even a repressive stare from Austin couldn’t silence. Caitlynne put her hand on Teddy’s arm and squeezed.

A vein on his temple pulsed. Jami held her breath and prayed that a fit of temper didn’t hit her father. The doctor had told him he needed to reduce stress or he’d risk another heart attack.

“Weddings are dull.” Teddy pulled away from his wife but inclined his head toward Beck. “I like having a sparring match. You up for it, Beck?”

“I’m game, sir.”

“Don’t drag business into this.” Caitlynne scowled at Jami as if this was all her fault.

“Relax, Caitlynne.” Austin’s tone was soothing. “Business is almost four thousand miles away. This is family first.” Austin tilted back his icy blue cocktail and drained the last ounce. Jami wished she could handle their stepmother as smoothly as Austin did.

Beck smiled at Caitlynne with a roguish smile that made Jami want to roll her eyes.

“Rob and Anna are the main event.” Beck nodded to Caitlynne, whose ruffled feathers seemed to smooth down. With his glass raised in the air, Beck saluted Anna. “To the lovely bride. Welcome to the family.”

Anna beamed back at him. “The merger of two big families. This should be lively.”

Jami toasted the bridal couple but kept her eyes on Beck. She didn’t trust him. Not with those silky, long eyelashes just waiting to charm the ladies. Not with those flashing gray eyes that promised he was a master competitor.

Oh yes, the game was on.

Chapter 2

As everyone clinked glasses in Rob and Anna’s honor, two more groups arrived from opposite staircases from the main pool area. Jami spotted Anna’s two teenage daughters, Emma and Clara, hovering close to their favorite uncle, Jami’s other brother, Dillon.

Jami did a quick count in her head. Yup. All seven of the adult Barrett children were accounted for as well as the adorable twins, Daphne and Mae. And with Anna’s daughters added in, they were quite the pack.

Jami noted the new faces and guessed the others were Rob’s family, which seemed to consist of an older, but well-preserved woman who was clearly Rob’s mother based on the similar eye colors and skin tones, and two women in their mid-thirties who looked like female versions of Rob.

Jami stole a glance at Beck and decided there was only a slight resemblance between Beck and his siblings. She wondered if he looked more like his father because he only seemed to share a strong, straight nose with the older woman Jami supposed was his mother.

As introductions proceeded, Jami remembered Anna had mentioned that Rob’s mother, Fiona, was recently divorced from husband number six, but definitely on the prowl for number seven. Or was it eight?

Fiona LaPierre was stylishly dressed, her hair dyed and highlighted to perfection. She was likely north of sixty, but she had the vibrant appearance of someone in her mid-forties. Jami wanted to like her, but the woman’s eyes were aloof and frosty.

Kyle nudged Jami’s elbow and sloshed her drink from side to side. Jami moved the glass away from her dress and rebalanced it with a sly eyebrow quirk to her youngest brother. Kyle was twenty-five and towered over her at six feet five inches, but still delighted in harassing her like a twelve-year-old. It was her job to outmaneuver him. It was a mission, a calling. Jami waggled a finger at him.

“Not this time.”

“Jimmy-Jaymz, are you behaving yourself?”

“Of course. I’m a model citizen, you know that.”

“Is there anything lively to do here?”

“Anna has plans for us. You won’t have time for much extracurricular activity.”

“Wow. That sounds underwhelming.”

“Shush.” Jami laughed quietly.

Fiona’s dominant voice pierced even Kyle’s bored veneer as she launched into a round of stories of the accomplishments of her children. Beck edged away and entered into a deep conversation with one of his nephews who’d brought a set of small model race cars and was showing them off at the side of the pool.

Beck’s rich laugh carried to the far side of the patio, and Jami’s pulse fluttered. She turned, but all she could see was the dark whorl of that blasted cowlick and his shirt straining across his muscled biceps.

Caitlynne let out a tiny huff, and her eyes narrowed as attention had veered away from her, and she was poised to launch a new attack. Jami took a steadying breath. This was going to be some kind of wedding.

“Hey, the waiters have arrived,” Teddy Barrett interrupted. “Looks like the buffet is open. It smells fabulous. What can I serve you, my dear?” He waved jauntily to his adult children and tugged his missus toward the food.

By some misfortune, Beck sauntered behind her and slipped next to her in the dinner line. An instant buzz fluttered up her spine, and curiously, her cheeks burned hot.

“Enjoying yourself?” Beck’s tone was bland and conversational. “The food looks delicious.”

Jami glared at him and his pathetic small talk, but with an army of witnesses, she silenced her snarky retort.

“It does, doesn’t it,” she replied, mimicking his overly charming tone of voice. “I’m so ready for the succulent tropical fruits.” Were they seriously discussing produce? “We just can’t seem to get them fresh enough in our little rural hometown. You must be used to them in Los Angeles.” Jami had done her research after the nerve-racking hearing. BK Industries was based in L. A., and she wished he’d stay down there.

“Nothing like a fresh mango or pineapple. They’re a luxury anywhere on the mainland.” Beck’s hand brushed hers, and she dropped the tongs as if she’d received a shock from a fork stuck in a toaster.

Jami ignored him and focused on plucking up choice chunks of golden and peachy fruit. So much for trying to convince him Barrett Ridge was too rural for his cosmopolitan tastes.

She fought back irritation. He was standing too close, and every inch of her skin tingled with awareness. She shot him a sideways glance, and her fingers itched to comb back the curl that threatened to fall to his forehead as he leaned down to snag what looked like a small mango cheesecake.

He was definitely the better looking of the two brothers. She pressed her lips together. Not that she cared, of course. She tromped to the opposite side of the pool deck and settled at the kids’ table, and lost herself in joking and teasing with the flock of children, and with Kyle, who joined in the merriment.

After dinner, all the kids begged their parents to let them splash in the pool. Kyle doffed his loose, tropical flowered shirt, and hopped into the water and started chasing the kids around with many squeals and screams.

With a frosty piña colada in her hand, Jami decided the alcoholic content must be rather light since she wasn’t even feeling a buzz and this was her third cocktail of the night. Buzz or no buzz, it was no doubt loaded with calories. She’d better work it off tomorrow. She wondered if there was some kind of spin class.

As she bounced her foot in rhythm with the island music streaming from the strategically placed speakers, Jami’s gaze wandered around the various tables scattered in intervals around the stamped concrete patio. Jo and Sam were deep in conversation with two of the Edwards sisters, Elaine and Mandy. Austin, Dillon, and Beck were tipping back beers and seemed comfortable while Anna gazed adoringly at Rob as he told a story to the rest of the family, new and old.

Dillon’s laughter roared out as Austin and Beck clinked their bottles in some kind of congratulations.

Jami fumed. How could Beck Kavanagh possibly be her future brother-in-law, or at least the sibling of an in-law, and be the lowlife scumbutt who was trying to take over her town? Oh sure, Beck’s company looked all environmentally friendly with their electric motorcycles and wave of the future, but she knew the company was bad news. She’d seen the filings. They’d filed for bankruptcy two years ago and had only been saved by some white knight investment group with a Wall Street connection.

Perhaps, she shouldn’t be so judgy. Lots of companies had troubles. Even Barrett Logistics had been on the rocks any number of times, but Dad had always pulled through. Jami watched as her eldest brother, Austin, cracked a joke with their father.

Austin had been the lifesaver this last time. She shuddered and tried not to remember the scary days after her father’s massive heart attack and then multiple bypass surgery. The recovery had been fraught with setbacks, and Austin had taken an extended leave from his career in Denver to run the family’s trucking company while Teddy had been slowly recuperating in the hospital and at home.

Jami scowled and polished off the rest of her slushy. She was not going to let Beck off the hook. His company was horning in on their business deal to buy the property next door so Barrett Logistics could finally expand their yard and truck repair facilities. Besides, she did not like to lose.

She’d missed an opportunity to scoop up an alternative property for the family business. Her father had been furious that she hadn’t been able to close that deal. He hadn’t spoken to her for two months after that. A knot formed in her throat. She was not going to let this chance slip through her fingers.

No. She shouldn’t worry. They’d presented a generous offer to the current landowners, and the business plan presented to the county commissioners was perfect. Every t was crossed and every i was dotted. It didn’t matter that electric motorcycles were exotic and interesting. That wouldn’t matter, would it?

With a clink, she set the glass on the stone mosaic tabletop and eyeballed a narrow opening in the lush growth surrounding the patio. That looked like an escape route. She needed to get away and calm down.

She cast a quick glance over her shoulder. No one was watching, so she pushed past a thick fern, and tramped along the pea gravel pathway. A puff of ocean breeze whiffed past her nose and lured her onward.

The gravel pathway turned to flat paver stones that finally ended in a fine, light sand. The ocean beckoned, and she tugged off her sandals and plunged her toes into the cooling sand. She groaned and wiggled her toes as she sank deeper into the sandy beach.

She swept up the long hem of her skirt and was poised to make a dash for the surf when she froze.

There was Beck, reclining in an Adirondack chair with his cell phone glowing in the darkening sky. He thumbed through emails or messages, Jami wasn’t sure which.

She considered backing away. The last thing she wanted was Beck spoiling her first splash into the Caribbean, but it was too late. Beck looked up.

“A word with you?” Beck’s tone was polite, distant.

“I’m busy.”

Beck studied her, and his flint gray eyes were chilly.

Chapter 3

“Nevertheless. We need to talk.” Beck studied Jami. Her long brown hair was glossy, and the golden flecks in her hazel eyes drew attention to the sprinkling of freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. She was lean but somehow curvy in all the right places, and the expression on her face was mulish.

Here he’d been thinking this was going to be a boring, and possibly uncomfortable torture session with relatives. Now, he was thinking there might be some sport involved. Jami Barrett looked mutinous and ready for battle, but then an angelic smile sprouted on her lips, and Beck braced himself.

“You’re right. What can I help you with?” Jami smiled and fluttered her eyelashes as if she was enchanted by him, but the tightness around her mouth told a different story.

“Look. I don’t know what you’re so bent out of shape about, but we’re both here for a wedding, so let’s not cause any more scenes.”

“We are in complete agreement...about that. Anna and Rob and their kids are the top priority this week.”

“So we can keep our business dealings separate?”

“I’m happy to ignore you this week. Will that suit you?”

“To a tee.”

Jami turned away, but then she spun back. “But don’t think I’m fooled by your veneer of niceness right now.”

What was wrong with this chick? Did she hate everybody? “You don’t even know me, so I don’t think you’re in any position to say I’m nice or I’m faking nice.”

“I know enough. You are a coldhearted player.”

“Okay. Based on what evidence?”

“You have to be a calculating, self-centered ass to bid against your future sister-in-law’s family’s business.”

“That’s a big assumption.”

“I find it hard to believe you had no idea that you were horning in on our family business.” Jami jammed her hand on her hip.

“Whatever you might believe, it’s the truth.” Beck contemplated mentioning his distant and barely existent relationship with his mother and family but decided this was not the moment for full disclosure. Attack seemed more profitable. “Unlike you Barretts, I don’t spend all my days gossiping with my family members. I run a business, and I have much better things to do than keep track of all my in-laws and outlaws, and whatever stray family members I might have.”

Jami made a face as if the gossip comment stung. “Seriously, who doesn’t know the name of his brother’s next wife?”

“You might have noticed that Anna’s last name is not Barrett, nor have I met her before.”

“It would be rude to call you a liar, so I won’t.” Jami scowled, and her foot tapped. “I will take you at your word.”

Beck shrugged and studied the five freckles sprinkled on the tip of her nose. They were really quite adorable, despite the fact that Jami’s eyes were shooting daggers in his general direction.

“I appreciate your generosity.” Beck’s tone was clearly sarcastic. “Despite your unfounded accusation that I’m here to ruin your family business, Barrett Ridge has a lot going for it. Two universities within a seventy-mile radius. Great weather. Affordable land. Great wineries. A sweet ski resort. Ring any bells?”

“I’m glad you noticed. Now, why don’t you just go back to California like a good boy? Or how about Nevada? I’ve heard their tax structure is far more beneficial than Oregon’s.”

“We took a vote. The trees and wineries beat out casinos and desert.” Beck tried not to laugh as Jami chewed that over. It wasn’t every CEO who allowed his employees a vote on relocation. He tried not to look smug. He was really quite proud of it.

“How democratic of you. You might as well start looking at other properties because the Barretts have a long tradition of helping our community and being one of its best employers. I’m confident our bid on the Anderton property will be the successful one.”

“That’s too bad for you.” Good Lord, she was smug and arrogant. He was so ready to take her down a notch.

“What do you mean?”

“Your self-delusion will make the news of my victory all the more painful and embarrassing.”

“I’m not worried.”

“That’s your problem.”

“Whatever.” Jami scowled. “Let’s just pretend everything is peachy and dandy.”

“Isn’t it?”

“We have five days to ignore each other.”

“That should be easy. I’m completely bored with you already.” Beck examined his fingernails and followed up with a bland smile.

“Wow. You are such a charmer. Your personality is so repellent that it will be a cakewalk for me.”

“Perfect. Conversation over.”

“Exactly.”

Beck rolled his eyes. She was one of those women. She had to have the last word. Ha. Not on his dime. “I’ll make sure to avoid eye contact, too. Will that help you out?” He smirked and waited for her response.

“That won’t be necessary. I won’t even notice you so no such effort will be required on your part.” Jami pivoted with a dismissive hand wave.

“Peace, sister Jami.” Beck waited for an eruption.

“Don’t sister me, buddy.” Her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. “I know all about your callous business ways. You don’t care about Barrett Ridge or bringing jobs to our town. You’re looking for the best tax breaks, and the first time something goes wrong, well, I don’t doubt you’ll declare bankruptcy again and clear out of town.”

Beck’s nostrils flared, and a fire crept up the back of his neck, but he said icily, “I’d advise you to check your facts. I’d hate to slap you with a libel lawsuit.” This wasn’t the moment to quibble over details; he’d filed for bankruptcy but had never acted on it. BK Industries had survived by the merest of threads before he’d wooed new investors and cleaned up the messes left by his old partner.

“Truth hurts.” Jami flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Anna’s wedding is hardly the place to start a feud.”

“As far as I’m concerned, there’s no war going on. You’re just a momentary inconvenience.”

Jami grimaced and flounced back the way she’d come, back down the sandy path, toward the resort.

At least he’d gotten the last word in. Beck tried to smile but failed.

He’d been dreading coming to Rob’s wedding and spending an extended time in captivity with his family. This island was too small. Apparently smaller than even he’d thought.

Beck rubbed the back of his neck and wondered how the heck he had not known Rob was marrying into the Barrett family? It was his mother’s fault. Beck huffed under his breath. It was always her fault. He always found a way to blame her. Her constant stream of ever-changing husbands drove him crazy, and he’d never been close to his older siblings.

At the end of the day, he never really counted them as full brothers and sisters. Maybe it’d been because they were older and never bothered with their little brother by another father. Besides, it was hard to be close when they’d grown up in different households eleven months out of twelve. He’d always figured they’d gotten the better deal living with their father and not their shared mother. He, on the other hand, had had to struggle with his mother’s boyfriend or husband of the week.

Not that he felt sorry for himself. He thought of it rather matter-of-factly. The death of his father when he was only seven had been a stroke of bad luck on so many levels. No father, and stuck living with Fiona. His reality while growing up hadn’t been Ozzie and Harriet but had been more like an episode of The Real Housewives of Orange County.

A tall Barrett brother with a shock of tangled, dirty blond hair waved at Beck from the edge of the sand near the forest pathway. “Is it safe out here?”

“Coast is clear. I’ve only seen one of your sisters. You’re Kyle, right.”

The two shook hands.

“This is going to be one of the longest weeks of my life,” Kyle said with a cheerful tone. “Anna’s got a ton of activities planned for us. I’m thinking about booking an all-day fishing trip instead.”

“Sign me up if you do.” Beck laughed. “What does Anna have up her sleeve? You’ve got me worried.”

“It starts with a group photo in about ten minutes at the Plumeria Pool.”

“That’s not so bad.”

“There’s a treasure hunt, and I think she might have a round of Survivor, family reunion style up her sleeve.”

“I’m speechless.”

“And that’s only what I could pull out of her.”

“Yet, you flew all the way from Oregon for this?”

“It’s family. What are you going to do?” Kyle shrugged fatalistically, but he didn’t sound too concerned. “I’ll still manage to have some fun. At least this isn’t some couples resort. I’ve got my eye on some interesting targets.”

Beck chuckled at Kyle’s easygoing tone. He definitely seemed like he made the best of any situation. Unlike his sister. Jami was a different kettle of fish altogether. Her attitude was about as smelly as day-old fish guts.

“Let’s go get this photo over with. I noticed a bar down by the beach. Maybe we can hit that later.”

Fifteen minutes later, the whole family was mashed up against one another on the far side of the Plumeria Pool deck as the resort’s photographer fussed, fidgeted, and implored people to hold still.

Beck exchanged a grin with his brother, Rob, who was fiddling with the crooked collar on his youngest son, Ryan.

“No, no, no.” The photographer pouted. “We have too many boys on this side. We need balance.” He paced four steps and then stalked back. “You two. Move to the other side of the groom.”

His sister, Elaine, and Jami nodded obediently while the photographer studied Beck up and down. Beck smothered a laugh and waited patiently.

“You, with the braid. You stand to the groom’s left.” Elaine smiled and squeezed in next to Rob. “And you, pretty lady, with the glossy chestnut hair.” The photographer pointed at Jami. “You stand next to this gentleman.”

Beck’s smile faded as Jami’s gaze narrowed. Jami was going to have to stand next to him, one from the end.

“We’ll make room for you, Jami,” one of the six-year-old twin girls said.

“Thank you, sweet pea.” Jami’s voice was honey sweet, but her expression was stony as she stared straight at Beck.

He stepped to the side and made a generous space for her.

Jami stepped next to him but pulled her shoulder away as if even being that close to him was distasteful. “Excuse me.”

A whiff of jasmine drifted past his nose, and Beck smiled until he realized the intoxicating scent was coming from Jami.

“Everyone scooch in closer!” The photographer shouted and fanned his hands to encourage snug proximity. “Snuggle everyone! You on the end. Closer still.”

Beck shuffled closer to Jami as her face froze into a polite smile, but waves of irritation emanated from her. The photographer kept positioning everyone until at last he reached Beck and Jami on the far left end. “You two are so handsome and pretty. Come now. Smile like you mean it.” With that, he pushed Beck right into Jami’s back.

The jasmine tickled his senses, but the heat from her body woke him up. It was entrancing. Her dark tresses were glossy in the setting, tropical sun, and he itched to twine a finger through the long, fat curls on the ends.

“You’re close enough,” Jami hissed through her forced smile.

“Don’t worry, you’re not tempting me at all.” Beck kept his voice cool, but his heat was rising. He shifted his hip slightly to create a space between him and Jami. Damn. His body had other ideas.

Jami was a shrill cat, but she had all the best curves in all the right places. He snuck a glance at the red fabric of her skirt that pulled tight across her bubble butt. He inhaled sharply, and Jami trembled.

The camera clicked, and the photographer cooed and coaxed his clients into a never-ending smile until Beck thought his smile would break off.

“Okay, now everyone wave at me and say mango!”

Jami snorted, and for an instant, Beck was in agreement with his brown-haired, flashing-eyed enemy.

Chapter 4

The sun peeped above the row of palm trees and cast a glint of sunshine on the reddish-brown clay tennis court. Beck lobbed the fuzzy yellow ball crosscourt, and Rob slid easily along the clay and effortlessly returned it.

“You all warmed up?”

“Let’s hit a few more.” Beck hit a clean forehand straight back. “I’ve still got cobwebs.”

“Too many nightcaps at the piano bar?” Rob stretched and smacked it back.

“Yeah, after you left, Teddy showed up and bought a round of drinks for everyone in the bar. We drank until they closed us down.”

“Glad I skipped out before midnight.”

“You’ve got a lovely lady to cuddle up to.”

“She’s a keeper.” Rob mishit the ball, and it snubbed into the net.

“I like her.” Beck pulled a fresh tennis ball from his short’s pocket and knocked it back over the net. “Her family’s as crazy as ours.”

“That’s why we get along so well. She can match any sad divorce or crazy stepparent story with mine.”

“We’ve got some stories with Mom’s six marriages.”

“I thought it was seven.” Rob grunted as he stretched out for a backhand. “Did I miss something poolside last night? Was there tension between you, Teddy, and one of Anna’s sisters? Jami, I think.”

“Long story.”

“Try me. I’m marrying a Barrett. I need to know.”

“I’m moving the BK Industries from Los Angeles, and I had the interesting luck to choose Barrett Ridge.”

“How is that a problem?”

“I’m competing with the Barretts for a neighboring piece of property. Jami is their real estate agent, and she’s looking for my head on a platter.”

“Did you outbid them?”

“It’s up in front of the planning commission for land use permits. I made a great pitch, and I’m expecting to hear today or tomorrow if I can slide in a little something extra to sweeten the deal for the county.”

“You’ve always got the edge, don’t you?”

“I do try. It’s a—”

“Hey, Jami! Hey guys!” Sam Barrett called from the far side of the pair of tennis courts.

Beck lowered his racket as Jami rose up from a bench partially concealed by a thicket of ferns and pink flowering shrubs. Jami waved and tucked her arm through Sam’s as the pair sauntered to the spare court.

Beck spun the racket in his hand. Had Jami been listening? She smiled easily at Rob but ignored Beck. Well, that wasn’t unusual, not after last night’s confrontation. He’d rather Jami nor the Barretts find out about his potential advantage, but since there was really nothing they could do about it, he supposed it didn’t matter if she had overheard.

“You’re up early.” Rob waved and motioned them closer.

Beck smiled easily at Sam but merely lifted his chin toward Jami. A half-smile teased her mouth, and she arched her eyebrow as if to say she was unimpressed.

As they gathered at one end of the net, Beck decided that Rob’s new sisters were gorgeous. Sam had honey-blonde hair and a soft, curvy body, while Jami, with her dark brown locks, was all toned muscles, long legs, and a nipped-in narrow waist. Sam might be easy on the eyes, but Jami was all spark and fire and sexy as hell.

She definitely had an attitude, and she wasn’t likely to give an inch. Family and weddings might not be his favorite things, but he was going to spice things up by messing with Miss High and Mighty.

“How about some doubles?” Beck waited.

“What a fab idea.” Sam glanced at Jami whose thin smile looked less than enthusiastic.

“That way no one has to work too hard. It’s already heating up now that the sun is up.” Rob smiled at Jami. “What do you say?”

“Perfect.” Jami returned a friendly grin to Rob. “We can get the blood pumping and burn off all those piña coladas from last night.” Jami turned her back to Beck. “I’ll be your partner, Rob. Are you game?”

“Absolutely.”

“I haven’t played for months, so let’s warm up.” Sam waved her tennis racket as if already waving the white flag of defeat.

Casual banter and chitchat filled the air as they batted the ball between them, but Beck detected a gleam in Jami’s gaze as she gracefully swatted the tennis ball across the court. Each shot she took was placed to perfection as if she’d never flubbed a hit in her life.

“Sam? Are you ready?” Jami bounced the tennis ball on her racket in a steady rhythm.

“I’m ready for some fun.” Sam turned to Beck. “Do we need a strategy? Do you like charging to the net? I’m kind of a baseline betty.”

“I’ll try not to be a ball hog.”

“Oh, I’m used to it. I’m the odd one out in our family since I never competed on athletic teams. I’m the mellow sister.”

Beck smiled at Sam and prepped for an easy serve. This was all fun and games, so there was no point in winding up a cannon. Jami dashed up to meet the ball and returned it to her sister with only the slightest spin. It was an easy rally with lots of laughter until Rob hit it into the net.

Small talk about the resort and Anna’s plans for their day floated between them, and Beck started noticing a pattern from Jami. She’d lob a shot to her sister, and then the next would come flying straight at Beck. Each time, there was a smidge more intensity and even some backspin on the fuzzy yellow ball.

Sam hit a lucky shot, and Jami lunged for it. Beck got a full flash under her short, floaty skirt and the bright pink boy shorts she sported under them. Her butt was perfect. It was all curviliscious booty. The tennis ball whizzed toward him. He swung late, and the ball hit the racket frame and ricocheted straight up into the air.

Jami smirked.

“Our point, little brother.” Rob chased down the rogue tennis ball.

Beck contained his scowl. Since when had he let a good-looking woman outfox him with sex? Um. Never. That was not going to happen again.

Beck focused on the tennis ball and ignored the woman serving it. He hit it back cleanly. Jami sprinted to her left, and the bounce of her breasts stole his brain. The deep V-neck of her top showed off charming jigglage, and he kept hoping a little more would pop free of the tight confines of her bra.

The ball flew over the net. Beck scrambled and slammed into Sam. She squeaked and stumbled backward. The ball hit the back fence of the court.

“Whoa. Sorry there. I forgot we were playing doubles there for a moment.”

“No damage.” Sam scanned her arm and flexed it once. “Nope. I’m fine.”

“Game to us.” Jami tossed the extra two balls toward Sam since it was her serve.

Beck schooled his features into bland friendliness, despite the tingling of heat that rose on the back of his neck, and in the crotch of his shorts. He inhaled and let his breath out in a thin, silent stream. It was time to get his head back in the game and his pecker under control. He was his own master, and he wasn’t going to let his opponent get the better of him. No matter how sexy she looked with her silky brown hair gleaming in the morning sunshine or the tight knit top that hugged her slim waist and generous breasts.

He kept his attention centered on the next game, and Sam won her serve, and Beck hit a few winning line drives toward Rob’s weak backhand. But by Rob’s serve, Beck’s mind was drifting. It was much more fun to watch Jami’s long, lean thighs and catch a glimpse of those hot pink boy shorts than it was to concentrate on hitting a killer shot.

He lobbed it back in a high, looping arc and smiled as she bounced to get it. She returned it low and fast over the net, but Beck puffed it back to her. Jami hit it harder, but couldn’t change the ball’s direction, so it hit crosscourt right back to him. He returned a lazy lob, and a fleeting look of irritation passed over Jami’s expression.

She mishit the ball. Sam charged the net like a stampeding elephant and smacked the ball which flew straight into Rob’s chest. He shielded himself with his racket, and the ball zoomed off it and landed back into the net.

“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry.” Sam rushed toward the net. “I don’t know where that crazy shot came from. I didn’t mean to send a bullet to your heart.”

“I wasn’t paying enough attention.” Rob looked back at Jami and shrugged. “I was mesmerized by that crosscourt action. I didn’t think it would ever go toward Sam.”

Jami laughed, but it sounded forced to Beck’s ears.

“Hey, I’m dying of thirst, and I forgot to bring any water.” Sam fanned herself with her racket and gazed up at the sun. “It’s getting humid now that the sun is above the palms.”

“Let’s call it a match.” Rob glanced at Jami.

“Absolutely.” Jami cocked her head to one side and tossed a defiant look to Beck.

“I think we’re evenly matched.” Sam picked up the scattered tennis balls and put them back in the can.

“Five games to five.” Rob mopped his forehead with a towel.

“We should try to play again.” Jami’s voice was cheerful, and she blinked twice at Beck. She didn’t quite bat her eyelashes at him, but there was a glimmering challenge in it.

“All in the name of family closeness.” Beck laughed but wondered what was going on in that brain of hers.

Rob stiffened for a moment, but let the moment go, and Beck wished the words unsaid. Rob didn’t deserve any sarcasm. This was his and Anna’s moment, and Beck didn’t have any business making a challenging event any rougher.

Sam and Jami strolled off with airy waves and promises to see them shortly at the breakfast buffet.

“Which way are you headed?” Beck threw an arm around Rob’s shoulders. “I’m ready for some chow.”

“I should probably shower first, but I’m actually starved now.”

“Let’s go.” Beck stepped away and tucked his racket under his arm and walked on pace with Rob. They were silent, but it was a comfortable quiet. “This was a great idea to gather everyone down here.”

“Anna and I thought it would be fun, and rather like a neutral territory.”

“There are some strong personalities. On both sides.”

“I don’t think there’s a shrinking violet on either side of our two families.”

Beck’s thoughts immediately flew to Jami. She was a competitive spitfire, but there was no reason to mention it. “I don’t think Mom and Caitlynne are going to get along.”

Rob laughed. “You never know.”

“As long as we all play nicely and keep our thoughts to ourselves, this should all go off without a hitch.”

“I wish I’d known you were bidding against the Barretts.” Rob’s brow furrowed.

“That was awkward with Teddy and Jami for a moment last night.”

Rob murmured noncommittally, and Beck held his peace. There was no way he was going to back out of this deal just to smooth things over with the Barretts. His company was his top priority.

An image of Jami’s bouncing buns danced in his mind, and he smiled. She definitely turned his crank. He was going to have to watch himself, or she might get the upper hand. Indeed, Jami was going to keep him on his toes.

This might be an interesting family adventure after all.

Chapter 5

Beck rinsed off in his outdoor shower and slid into the pool. He floated and stared up at the glorious clear sky as one tall palm swayed in the breeze.

He sure couldn’t complain about his accommodations. A beachfront cottage was a luxury, but it made hanging out with relatives a shade more palatable. The sand was at his front door, and his bedroom patio gave him his own little pool, chaise lounge, and patio.

Beck smiled as the laughter of kids drifted past him. No doubt they were splashing in the surf. The sounds of singing approached and then faded, and Beck assumed it was one of the ever-cheerful resort staff. Hell, he might sing too if he lived in this island paradise.

“Austin!”

Beck opened his eyes. It sounded like Teddy Barrett was on the path to the beach that lay just beyond the privacy wall of his bungalow.

“I want a word with you,” Teddy continued in a firm voice.

“That never sounds encouraging.” Austin’s tone was patient.

Beck waited and fully expected the pair to keep walking. Should he say something to let them know he could hear everything?

“We never finished our conversation from yesterday.”

“You know I’m not your legal counsel.”

“Dammit. You’re a lawyer, and you’re my son. Just tell me how it is.”

“Pending lawsuits will hurt the company’s reputation. Barrett Ridge is a small community, and you know as well as I do that rumors get around quick. If you don’t settle or get a dismissal, the word will get out.”

“Money grubbing bastards.”

“I don’t even want to know any of the details.”

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a wrongful termination suit, and now there are two.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Teddy Barrett continued. “Don’t look at me that way. There’s nothing wrong with my temper. I expect a driver to work his ass off. Log books be damned. They deserved to get fired.”

“Old school doesn’t work anymore.” Austin almost sounded bored, as if he’d had the same conversation a million other times. “Electronic logs and driver hours are the rule. You have to enforce the rules.”

“They’re idiotic, and they cost me money.”

Austin replied, but his voice was distant as if they had finally moved out of hearing range. Beck chewed his lip and kicked his foot idly in the warm aqua waters. Sounded like all was not peaches and cream at Barrett Logistics.

Beck stepped out of plunge pool, dried off, and with the towel wrapped around his waist, slid into the chair at the neat desk in his suite and flipped his laptop open. His fingers flew across the keyboard as he outlined a plan of attack to his attorney.

All was fair in real estate development.

With a last admiring glance at the glorious view of shimmering blue waters and the misty, verdant mountaintops of the distant isle of St. Lucia, Jami shut the sliding balcony door to Jo’s room. There was no point in letting the air conditioning escape, nor in allowing anyone close by to listen in. She didn’t know where Beck was staying, and even though Jo’s room was on the fifth floor of the main building, Beck could be directly above for all she knew.

She’d overheard enough from Beck and Rob as she’d waited silently on the bench near their court that she didn’t want to repeat his mistake. Initially, she’d ducked down on the bench so she could avoid any small talk with Beck, and she hadn’t intended to eavesdrop. And now, like more eavesdroppers, she hadn’t heard anything good.

If Beck had some sort of secret edge, she was going to have to find out what it was and neutralize it. Or perhaps, she could dig up some dirt.

Jami spun around to face Jo. “What was that you mentioned last night about knowing someone who’d worked at BK Industries?”

“It’s kind of gossip.” Jo looked up from the island activities brochure as she sat cross-legged on her bed. “But one of my friend’s sisters worked there a few years ago.”

“Is there some story there?”

“I checked with her last night after I heard about BK Industries.” Jo waved her phone at Jami. “She said her sister was sexually harassed by the boss. Not just her direct supervisor, but the head of the company.”

Jami gave her sister a long look. “Huh. I wouldn’t have figured Beck for that type. What happened? Are you sure?”

“They settled it out of court, and it was all hush-hush.”

“There’s nothing unusual about that. No company wants its dirty laundry splashed about the media. Do you know how much she received?”

“She bought a new house. With cash. And takes killer vacations every year now. I’ve seen the photos.”

Jami studied her sister. Should she run with this information? It might make a difference to the county board. No one wanted an abusive employer in town. But then again, they might not care if the new tax revenue was large enough.

“Thanks for telling me, Jo-Jo. I think I’ll run it by Dad’s legal counsel and see if he thinks we should drop a word to the board.”

“I didn’t tell Dad anything since you know how he would have reacted.”

They both shook their heads in unison, and Jami could imagine her father’s head exploding like a volcano and causing a major scene in front of Anna and everyone.

“We’d better get going. The first round of The Wedding Survivor game Anna-style gets started in a half hour.”

“Let me send an email to the attorney and see if he wants to pursue this. It might give us an edge.” Jami pursed her lips. They probably needed a little something extra based on Beck’s bragging to Rob.

“I’ll change into my one-piece bathing suit and put shorts over it. I have a feeling we’ll be running races in the sand or playing beach volleyball or something.”

Jami nodded, but her brain was immersed in her message to the stateside lawyer. What did Beck have up his sleeve? It had better not be too late to find a fresh advantage over him.

She pushed the send button on her email but frowned. A quaver of guilt hit her belly. She was reacting to a piece of hearsay. That was no way to run her business. Jami chewed on her lip. In reality, she was passing on a lead to the attorney. He would then do the research and pass it along to the county board if there was evidence to back it up.

Besides, if she didn’t do something with the information, and her father found out, he would have her ass on a grill. Hell, he’d fire her in a heartbeat. He was all about results, and he had no use for anyone who failed him.

Jami pushed out of the chair and stood at the sliding glass door. The deep blue waters seemed to dance in the sunlight as a pair of alabaster sailboats skimmed the waters and frolicked in the wind.

She sighed. What had happened to a simple family wedding? Now it was family business versus the newcomer.

At the thought of Beck, a tingle danced up her spine. That had been a fun battle on the tennis court this morning. She’d gotten a charge out of knowing he’d almost fallen over when she’d flashed her little pink shorties at him. That had been all she’d needed to know. She loved detecting an opponent’s weakness.

She might despise him as the enemy, but she wasn’t above playing up a few of her feminine advantages. He’d checked out about every inch of her body. She fidgeted with the curtain as she waited for Jo to finish changing in the bathroom as an answering heat flowered between her thighs.

Jami snapped her fingers twice and dispelled the crazy sensations. There was no way this side of the Equator that she was attracted to the dastardly Beckham Kavanagh. It was a fact. He was too good looking for his own good, and according to Jo’s friend’s sister, Beck was an abusive employer.

She shoved aside the vision of Beck’s gray eyes flashing at her when she’d scored the last crosscourt winner off him.

Yet, her heart muttered that his heat might be dangerous.

With a last glance down the beach, Jami spread out her white and tan striped hotel beach towel, arranged her bag and drink, slipped out of her sandals, and settled down into the warmth of the sand. The thick, cottony goodness of the hotel towel caressed her skin. She was in heaven.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family, but it was already feeling like an interminable episode of Survivor: Family Wedding edition. Perhaps if she got lucky, Beck would get voted off the island. Jami wrinkled her nose. Why couldn’t Anna have settled on a round of bunko and called it good?

No, that had never been Anna’s method. If one family bonding game was good, why then of course, a never-ending game of meet your new family members and hey, by the way, you get to team up with your business enemy and jerky new brother-in-law.

The first game had been a coconut tossing relay that had pitted her directly against Beck, and he’d beaten her. Jami frowned. And it had gone downhill from there. How had Anna dreamed up the idea of a hula hoop relay? And she’d been right next to Beck and had to pass the hula hoop to him with only her hips. Jami fidgeted with the edge of her towel and couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position in the sand.

Thank goodness, she’d probably rarely see Beck after the wedding. Once she won the Anderton property deal, Beck would hightail it out of Barrett Ridge. Nope, he’d likely pick something around Portland, or maybe Nevada. Wasn’t that where all sorts of businesses were congregating these days?

It wasn’t like Beck was going to be a regular at Christmas or Thanksgiving dinners. She’d only been out to Anna’s once for the holidays. A niggling thought teased at Jami as she sipped on her cold drink. What if Beck did win?

An ice cube broke free in her cup and clinked on her front tooth. She sputtered and sat up. Would they have to start inviting him to Sunday dinners? Delightful.

The sun dimmed, and a shadow loomed over her.

“Jaymz.” Kyle winked. “Can I hide out with you?”

“Who’s hiding? I’m working on my tan.” Jami pointed to her bottle of sunscreen as evidence.

“At the far end of the beach, not a Barrett or Edwards in sight?”

“I may need a wig to go full incognito.”

“Do you have a spare in your bag?” Kyle groaned. “I’m so over Anna and her hyper-enthusiasm.”

“It’s only the first full day. Isn’t she with the kids playing Marco Polo in the pool?”

“There’s a can’t miss event.”

“I have to give her credit. She is a lot more fun than we are.”

“For the ten-year-old set.”

“When did you get so old?”

“I don’t see you volunteering to entertain the troops.”

“Point taken.” Jami tossed the sunscreen at Kyle. “Spray some on my back, please.”

Kyle grabbed the bottle without a word and did his duty.

“We’ve been spotted.”

“What?” Jami twisted around. There was Beck where the palm trees met the white sands. Dark blue board shorts, no shirt, glistening, cut abdominal muscles. Damn. That wasn’t a six pack, but an eight pack of hard, rippling studliness.

Kyle stuck his hand up to catch Beck’s attention, but Beck’s gaze was already raking her body over. Brilliant.

“I thought we were ditching family?” Jami hissed under her breath.

“Beck’s cool.”

Jami grunted, slapped her sunglasses on, and burrowed back down into the soft, warm sand.

“Mind if I join you?” Beck nodded to Jami, but that was it. It was like she didn’t exist. Fine. It was better if they simply ignored each other.

“It’s a safe space.” Kyle grinned, and Beck snorted.

“Too much family time?” Beck kneeled in the sand, and Jami was mesmerized by his bulging thigh muscles and dark tan. His skin was almost olive like he was of Mediterranean descent. A Latin lover. Jami quivered and shut her eyes. She was thankful for her dark glasses.

“Worse than Thanksgiving weekend.”

“At least there’s football and turkey leftovers.”

“Word up.”

“When’s the next official gathering?” Beck sounded neutral, but his expression was pained.

“I think we need another round of drinks.” Kyle looked around, but the nearest server was out of calling distance.

“I think the piano bar is the place to hang out. Your dad made sure the drinks were flowing.”

“That’s his way of making friends.” Kyle shook his head but abruptly smiled widely. “What are we doing lazing on the beach?” Kyle poked Jami, and she slapped his hand away. “It’s almost glassy out there, but there’s no surf. Let’s go snorkeling.”

“I’m in.” Beck popped to his feet in one fluid motion as Kyle rose and scooped up his towel.

“What about you, Jaymz? Lady of leisure.”

Jami raised up on her elbows with her lips pursed. What was the point in sunbathing when she could be exploring the ocean, but, then there was Beck. He was damn irritating, even if those glistening pecs of his were distracting her. Sleep or go play? She wrinkled her nose. “I’m a gamer. You know that.”

“This is the lazy one of the family.” Kyle jabbed his thumb in Jami’s direction. “She only runs marathons and triathlons.”

Jami flushed and wished Kyle would shut up. It was none of Beck’s business what she did with her free time. As she tossed her belongings into her oversized straw bag, her skin prickled with awareness. Beck’s gaze was glued to her.

Crap. She was pointing her butt straight at him. She turned to the side and prayed her bikini top was secure and she wasn’t showing too much underboob. She straightened up. Whatever. It was a free country, and Beck could look all he liked. He wasn’t getting any. And that was her final answer.

Jami pushed her glasses up into her hair, and then flexed her bicep and hummed a few notes to a song. “I work out.” She winked.

“I can still out-sprint you,” Kyle bragged.

“Your legs are almost twice as long as mine. You’re a freaking giraffe.” Jami matched her stride to her brother’s and made sure Kyle was between her and Beck.

“See? She’s a sore loser, too.”

“Is everything a competition for you Barretts?” Beck shook his head as they made their way toward the surf shack at the opposite end of the beach. He caught Jami’s eye with an easy smile, but she ignored him.

“It’s all in good fun, right, Jami?”

“Tackling you in a game of flag football is just how I say ‘I love you,’ little brother.” Jami laid on the sugar in her voice.

“You took me out at the knees,” Kyle protested.

“Those moose pegs are your soft underbelly.” Jami laughed. That had been an epic scrimmage.

“She’s got the killer eye, Beck. You’d better watch out. She’ll pull a fast one on you, and you’ll never know what hit you.”

“Forewarned is forearmed.”

“She and Austin are the pair that got the nice-guy-assassin gene from dad.”

Seriously. Would Kyle ever learn to keep that mouth zipped? Beck was the last person who needed to hear details of their family life or any of their secrets. Jami stared stonily ahead.

“She doesn’t look like an assassin.”

“Judging a book by its cover?” Jami fluttered her eyelashes and affected a twangy drawl.

Kyle wore a puzzled expression as he stared at Jami and Beck in turn. Jami lifted her chin. Kyle could think whatever he wanted. She didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let Beck Kavanagh have the last word. Or get under her skin.

Chapter 6

They loaded up into the boat with about a dozen other vacationers, and Beck listened to the safety instructions with half an ear. He’d been snorkeling and diving countless times, but it never hurt to pay attention, and no doubt there were some unique features to the reef they were about to visit.

As the guide chattered and joked, Jami kept her attention squarely on the guide and poked Kyle in the ribs when he seemed to nod off. Beck tried not to laugh at the siblings’ antics. Beck studied her profile and her high forehead, straight if slightly button nose, and her full lips that seemed to smile easily for everyone except him.

Her thin, white polka dot cover-up flapped in the wind and gave him an ever-shifting glimpse of her lean waist with the hint of her strong abdominal muscles and generous swell of her breasts. He imagined them fitting nicely into the palms of his hands. He glanced away, but couldn’t help but sneak a few more peeks at Jami. She was fit, strong, and curvy in all the right places. As she smiled at Kyle, a dimple appeared in her cheek. For a lean, mean, fighting machine, she was absolutely adorable.

Beck pressed his lips together into a tight line and shifted the snorkel gear in his hands. Jami was the last person he should be thinking about sexually. She was a barracuda with a vicious bite, and she most distinctly thought of him as public enemy number one. Besides, who chased after a sister-in-law? Not that she was really related to him. She’d actually be Rob’s in-law, and he was only Rob’s half sibling at that.

The boat jounced along the rolling waves, and Beck took bets with himself on the sturdiness of Jami’s bikini top. Would it actually hold her girls in place or would there be a strategic failure if they hit a rogue wave?

The chugging engine slowed to a rumbly putt-putt-putt, and the guide launched into his safety spiel. Within a few minutes, everyone was splashing around in the sea and fiddling with their masks and fins.

“Don’t wander off, little brother,” Jami began. “Anna will kill me if you don’t show up to her wedding.” She laughed, but Beck detected a soft note of concern in her voice.

“No worries, Jim-Jam. I know you’ve got that big sister vibe pounding in your brain. I’m not five anymore.” Kyle waggled a hang-ten hand sign at her and then swam off.

“Once a bossy sister, always a bossy sister?” Beck smirked at Jami.

“Whatever. I fished him out of the pool when he was a kindergartner, and I kind of can’t shake the image of him blue and not breathing. So sue me for being overly protective.”

“Peace.” Beck waved a hand in front of Jami. Well, he’d certainly stepped in the mouth of the shark on that one. Smooth moment number three thousand and seven. “I’ll shut up now.”

“Fine.” Jami adjusted her snorkel and turned away from him.

As she dove through the water, Beck smiled wryly at his awkwardness, and he was pretty sure Jami had wanted to flip him off but had restrained herself. The good part was he was absolutely not interested in the prickly, sharp-tongued Barrett sister, so his little episode of foot-in-mouth was actually for the best. His secret strategy was clearly to keep her in a constant state of irritation and disgust with him.

Ha. Mission successful. Yes, he was a smooth operator.

With a last check for leaks around the edges of his mask, Beck swam off with the snorkel in his mouth and his fins gently propelling him through the smooth waters. The underwater world exploded in front of him.

The coral reef was at least fifty feet away, but silvery schools of tiny fish darted and dove in front of him. Ahead, Jami and Kyle kicked down to the reef for a closer inspection of the anemones swaying in the gentle current.

Beck floated and idly waved his arms to maintain his viewpoint. Jami was a work of art in that blue and white batik bikini. As she stretched an arm out at a passing fish, Beck glimpsed the paler white skin under her breast, and an answering tightness in his board shorts told him he was far from immune to her.

The pair held their breath until at last, a slow trickle of bubbles emerged from their snorkels. First Kyle, pushed toward the surface and then after another twenty seconds, Jami gave a tiny thrust of her legs and rose through the water.

She spun a five-eighty spiral and burst into the fresh air above. Beck swam a few strokes and then plunged under the water and dove deeper to the sprawling white and yellow reef. An aqua and neon pink-trimmed fish swished by, and a swarm of pinky-peach round fish surrounded him and then streaked away. A long, skinny barracuda idled past him and countless tiny silvery needlefish skimmed by. A shadow loomed in the corner of his vision, and Kyle waved, and then Jami drifted past, but she refused to make eye contact with him.

Golden and blue-barred fish zipped by, and Jami floated with a mesmerized expression that was clear, even through her mask. As one, all three of them pushed back to the surface.

As a trio, they repeated their dives until they were almost dizzy, and they treaded water until they caught their breath. As Kyle and Jami debated whether they had seen a spotted eagle ray or just a blotchy stingray, Beck studied Jami. She was muscled and lean and had no problem keeping up with two guys who easily outweighed her by fifty pounds or more and were more than five inches taller.

She wasn’t even breathing hard after so many multiple dives. In fact, she was in better aerobic shape than him as far as Beck could tell. She bobbed in the water with the swell with ease until she froze, her eyes fixed at a distant point.

“You guys, look!” Jami must have kicked hard because she popped up high out of the water and pointed. “Dolphins.”

Beck turned and spotted an array of perky fins cutting through the waves. Beck double-checked to be sure that they were the curvier trailing edge fins of the friendly mammals and not the straighter edge of a shark. He glanced back at the snorkel boat, and the skipper waved and pointed to the approaching pod.

“There must be at least ten of them.” Kyle stretched high to get a better view.

“They are coming in our direction. I think we’re in luck.”

“I wonder if they’re spinners or bottlenose.” Jami pushed up higher for a better view.

“Didn’t the guide mention Spotted and Fraser, too.”

“I have no idea how to tell the difference.” Jami laughed. “Now the big decision is whether to dive down and join them or hang out on the surface.”

More fins emerged, and Beck guessed there were over thirty dolphins cruising past them. More of the other snorkelers popped up to watch the show. One sleek, gray creature sprang high into the air and then executed a rapid spin before it dove back into the shining waters. Another cavorted into the air, and then another, with splashes, huffs, clicks, and whistles.

There were cheers and shouts, but Beck let the energy of the moment spill over him and through him. He half shut his eyes, and the sun glinted starry streaks off their glossy backs and long snouts. The edge of the pod was no more than twenty feet away, and a riot of splashes churned the waters.

Something bumped into him. It was Jami, and she had a serene smile on her face as if she was in a zone of pure bliss. Their shoulders brushed in the choppy waves, but Jami simply smiled at Beck.

A strand of longing sliced through him. For an instant, he was part of Jami’s joy and her love. It was simple. It was pure. It was perfect.

With a few last flips and spins, the dolphins sped away until only the tips of their fins were visible above the ocean waves.

Jami broke into laughter, and Kyle joined and then finally, Beck gave into the zest of the moment.

“Ten more minutes!” It was the voice of the boat guide booming through his microphone.

“Come on, let’s have another go.” Jami secured her mask and snorkel and disappeared under the waves.

Kyle shrugged. “Gotta go where the sister leads us.”

“Does she ever slow down? She must have the lung capacity of a pearl diver.”

“I’d say a whale, but she’d kick my butt.” Kyle winked and then dove.

Beck laughed but shook his head. Jami Barrett was a worthy opponent. On and off the battlefield. If he didn’t watch himself, he was going to find himself at a disadvantage with her.

Beck took a deep, lung-filling breath, slipped under the water, and arrowed down toward the reef. He focused on the blue and white batik fabric barely covering Jami’s backside. It beckoned him closer and closer. Ah, yes. The material had crept up, and Beck had an enticing view of a whole lotta cheek. That was one delectable booty.

And at that instant, Beck forgot about land deals and business expansion, but he had a vague sense he might be in deep trouble.

Chapter 7

Jami rose early the next morning, went for a run, and then slid into a beach yoga session right as the first pose was struck. After that, she ambled over to the Plumeria Pool, nibbled on fruit and yogurt from the buffet, and made a date with Kyle to meet at the waterfalls at the south end of the island.

Somehow she kept expecting to see Beck, but he was conspicuously absent, and perversely, she was disappointed. She almost missed sparring with him.

They had the morning free before the festivities resumed with an afternoon treasure hunt. Jami muttered a few choice words under her breath, but at the same time, it was kind of fun.

An hour later, Jami loitered near the sign for the waterfalls. The sound of the water tumbling over the edge of the cliff wasn’t quite the roar of a race car engine, but it drowned out the chirps and chitters of the birds and critters rustling around in the thick, tropical woods. She looked around for a sight of Kyle, but she was all alone.

Jami peered down toward the bottom of the falls at the sparkling, clear pool below. According to the trail sign, it had been a favorite jumping spot for hundreds of years. A knot of anxiety clutched in her belly. It was a long way down. She shook her head. It wasn’t that she was afraid of heights, but she did respect them.

Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea to do on her own. She backed up a step.

“Changing your mind?” a voice asked next to her ear.

Jami jumped with a squeak. “You scared the crap out of me.”

With his bare, tan chest and close-fitting, dark green and white striped board shorts, Beck looked divine. He flashed a toothy grin her direction and then ran his fingers through his mop of loose, dark curls. “Nervous?”

“No. I didn’t think anyone else was around.” Jami shifted back and propped a hand on her hip.

“Everybody is still poolside. Trying to decide what to do with an afternoon off.” Beck rolled his eyes.

“Anna makes the rules. She always has, and probably always will.”

“It is her show after all.” Beck shrugged, and Jami appreciated his relaxed attitude. “So are you going to jump?”

“That’s the plan.” Jami assumed a peppy tone she wasn’t quite feeling.

Beck strode to the edge and examined the flashing blue water below and then turned his attention to the cascade of water tumbling down. “I’m kind of surprised they let people jump here. I guess nobody’s broken their neck.” He continued his perusal of their grassy perch and the straight drop down to the water far below.

That was her thought exactly, but she wasn’t going to let Beck know that. “Are you chicken?” Jami blinked with an innocent flutter of eyelashes, but her voice dripped sarcasm.

“I’m judging the distance and arc of the jump.”

“How technical of you.”

“I am an engineer.”

“Do you estimate thirty feet?”

“More like forty.”

“Maybe even fifty?” Jami pursed her lips and shot him an I-dare-you look. “Is that too scary for you?”

“A teeny thing like you might get hurt. I’d hate to see you twist an ankle.”

Jami glared. Since when had anyone called her tiny? She was five feet eight in her bare feet. Without meaning to, she ran her eyes up and down his body and was impressed. Not just with his ridiculously cut muscles, but the sheer mass and height of him. Beck was a good half foot taller than she was, and he clearly outweighed her. She was practically delicate in comparison to him.

A bead of moisture dripped onto his shoulder from a lolling palm frond and trickled down his bunched bicep. Dear heavens. Beck was delicious. Jami blinked and called herself to order. Dammit. She did not have the hots for her almost in-law.

“Oh my gosh, that’s so sensitive of you.” Jami scrunched her nose. “You’re stalling. I’m beginning to think you might be afraid of heights.”

“Hardly. Daredevils die. I take calculated risks.”

A derisive bark of laughter echoed behind her. It was Austin. She glared at her brother, but he only laughed harder.

“Shut up, you two, and fucking jump already.” Austin rolled his eyes and then launched off the edge of the cliff. He turned one summersault and then pointed his toes and plunged like a spear into the sun-kissed water. Jami counted under her breath as the water rippled. She hit ten before Austin popped up with a roaring whoop, then he swam to the shore.

Jami shrugged, took two steps back, and then leaped. As the tropical air whistled across her skin, Beck jumped, one step behind her, and snatched her hand into his. What was he doing? Did he think she couldn’t do this on her own? She tried to wriggle free, but his grip was like steel.

As they soared, exhilaration rose through Jami’s core, and a joyous shout slipped between her lips. Beck grinned and pumped his fist. At the last moment, Beck released her hand, and she folded her arms by her breasts and torpedoed through the shimmering blue waters. The water whooshed past her like a swirling vortex as she arrowed deeper and deeper, down into the indigo depths of the pool.

Her momentum slowed, and she floated, hovering weightless. Beck was a dark shadow a distance below her. A stream of bubbles drifted past and then the pressure of the water pushed against her ears and her chest. She looked toward the beacon of sunlight glinting above and beat her legs in a thrusting scissor kick. Beck zoomed up to her, grinned, and grabbed her hand. Together they whipped their legs and careened through the crystal clear water.

They broke through the surface, and clean, tangy air whistled into her lungs. Her hand was still tangled with Beck’s, and a curious link seemed to tether between them. They turned to each other, and both began to laugh with the sheer joy and energy of the moment.

Beck’s gray eyes took on the blue of the sky and the cerulean of the water and glistened in the sunlight. Jami’s laughter faded to a curving grin and widened eyes. With the water streaming off Beck in rivulets, he looked like a water god bursting from the depths of another world. A pulse of need clenched between her thighs.

Beck drifted closer to her, and his laughing gaze turned smokier, naughtier. Beck licked his lips, and a wicked glee danced across his expression as he snatched an object out of the water.

“Missing something?” Beck dangled a dripping scrap of scarlet fabric inches above the water.

Jami narrowed her gaze. It was her bikini top. Shit. Yup. Her boobs were floating free and easy right at the waterline. She refused to look down to determine if the tips of her nipples were exposed, but she let herself sink a smidge lower, so only the tops of her breasts were visible.

Austin’s laughter made an echoing bark around the waterfall. “This is a family outing, little sister. Keep it PG, you two.”

Jami raised her eyebrow and shot Beck an I-dare-you look, and then turned to the shore where Austin stood with his wet hair all spiky as he turned away with a waggle of a wave and then disappeared back into the forest. Fabulous. Now she was bare breasted and all alone with Beck. In the distance, Jami heard laughter and voices approaching closer. She’d better get that top on before she had a full-on audience. “Do you have plans of trying on that bikini top? I’m not sure red goes with your skin tone.”

“Hey, I’m just being a gentleman and making sure you knew you’d had a wardrobe malfunction.” Beck tossed the cloth the short distance to her, and Jami clamped down on her urge to snatch it close and conceal her nakedness.

As if she had all the time in the world, she let it float the last few inches into her grasp. From beneath her lowered lashes, she realized Beck was still and had flicked his tongue along his lips, like a man dying of thirst in the desert. A sensuous ripple of feminine satisfaction skated across her water-cooled skin. With a slight arch of her back, she slipped the already tied strings around her neck and then shimmied into the cups with a distracting swish and splash.

“Need help tying that?” Beck lazily kicked through the blue water with a purely innocent expression, but he circled closer.

“I’m good. Thanks.” Her hands trembled, and she prayed Beck wouldn’t notice. Was he getting nearer? She swore the temperature of the water was building to a boil. Why was he so stinking sexy when he was her sworn enemy, right?

“Are you cold?” In an instant, Beck was inches away, and he grabbed the floating string ties of her top. Fabric grazed her skin, and Beck’s hands burned into her flesh. Her breath caught, and her back stiffened.

“You don’t need to—”

Beck’s hands slithered down to her waist as Jami pressed into his chest, and the curves of her backside nestled into his hips and his hard arousal.

“I’m happy to help,” Beck hummed in her ear. He held her close, and Jami reveled in the cool wash of water and the fire flaring where their bodies met. She was almost surprised the pool wasn’t boiling with the heat of their sudden need.

The chatter of voices penetrated Jami’s foggy brain, and a pair of familiar faces broke through the dense greenery surrounding the grotto.

“Jami, did you and Beck jump?” Mae looked all the way up the embankment.

Beck released her and silently drifted a few feet away from her, and she felt small and isolated in the middle of the grotto.

“Austin said he did, but that it was too high for us.” Daphne sounded disappointed.

The sour face of Caitlynne surfaced out of the bushes, and she shot Jami a nasty, speculative glance. “We’re not interrupting anything, are we?”

“We did jump, from the very top, Miss Mae.” Beck launched into a breast stroke and aimed toward the girls. “There’s a low rock over there where you two might be able to jump. If your mother doesn’t think it’s too daring?” Beck’s face was impassive, but there was a hint of something in his tone. He almost sounded like he was defending Jami.

“I suppose that will be fine.” Caitlynne waved her hand airily as if dismissing the two girls and Beck to go play. She dropped her bag, laid out a towel on the short length of smooth sand, and promptly stretched out with her sunglasses firmly shielding her from the bright glare of the sun.

Beck swam to the edge of the splashing waterfall, next to the tall rock where the girls were clambering to its top. She wondered if his body was still as tingly and electric as hers? She smiled to herself. No, Beck didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get out of the water.

After the girls had made a few jumps, with lots of squeals and giggles, Beck challenged the girls to a race across the pool.

“I’ll be the judge,” said Jami. “Beck, you need a handicap.”

“He does. He’s loads taller and stronger than we are.”

“How about they get a five-second start on me?”

“Maybe?”

“I think you should spot the twins about half the distance.”

Beck eyed the midpoint and shrugged. “That looks fair.”

“On your marks, get set...go!”

Daphne and Mae screeched at the top of their lungs and began a full-on thrashing and splashing and general mayhem of flailing limbs as they tore through the lagoon. Beck caught Jami’s eye, and he winked at her with a huge grin as if he was having the best time in the world.

Jami’s knees wobbled. With a quick glance over at Caitlynne, she was relieved to see her stepmother had rolled onto her belly and her head was turned away from the water. The last thing she needed was for Caitlynne to have anything to harass her about. And Jami was starting to wonder if Beck might just be a problem.

The twins reached the middle of the lagoon, and Beck lunged through the water like a dolphin slipping through the waves. His strokes were neat and clean, and there was no excess splashage. She caught glimpses of his powerful shoulders and broad back, and her breathing was ragged and erratic; the sunshine was suddenly quite hot on her skin.

He closed the distance on the little girls and was brushing past their ankles. Mae glanced up and squealed and kicked harder, but Daphne put her head down and swam for all she was worth.

Jami extended her arm and squinted down its straight line to see who crossed the imaginary finish line first. Daphne’s little paw zipped past right as Beck zoomed forward.

“Daphne is our winner!”

Beck cheered as Daphne clambered onto dry land and cavorted around like a peacocky athlete with silly dabbing gestures, and Mae cheered for her sister without any ill will.

“You two are impressive swimmers.”

“Jami taught us. She’s a professional.”

Beck threw her an inquisitive look. “I thought she was a real estate agent?”

“She swims in races.”

“What kind of races?”

“A tri-something or other. She’s like Wonder Woman.” Mae looked at Jami adoringly, and Jami decided she might need to keep the kid on speed dial for motivational moments.

“Triathlon?” Beck ran his gaze over Jami’s body and an answering electricity sparked along her flesh. She inhaled sharply, but irritation elbowed in. It was like he was checking out a horse at a sale. Should she show him her teeth?

“Is that it, Jami?”

“That’s the one.” Jami nodded and contemplated wading back into the water. Now, why did she feel like hiding from Beck’s roving eyes?

“She’s very strong,” Mae said as if she were confiding a great secret.

Jami flexed a lean bicep for the twins who broke into giggles, and she almost laughed out loud at Beck’s pole-axed expression.

Chapter 8

With her arm flexed like a bodybuilder and the goofy, tough expression she sported for her two youngest sisters, Jami looked like a cross between an Olympic athlete and a Disney princess. Beck couldn’t move. She took his breath away.

As Mae and Daphne broke into peals of laughter, the pair of imps pranced around imitating Jami. Beck caught Jami’s eye. For a moment, he saw an answering heat in her gaze, but with a loud whoop from Daphne, Jami’s expression hardened and her back stiffened. She turned away.

Beck dove back into the water to let the cool liquid damp down his lust. What the hell was with him? Since when did he get the hots for women who hated him and tried to trip him up every free chance they got?

“Okay, girls. Time’s up. I think I’m starting to get a burn.” Caitlynne stood and called out to Daphne and Mae. “Besides, you girls need your lunches before we start the treasure hunt.”

The girls cast longing glances at Jami and then Beck.

“I bet we can have some fun in the pool after dinner.” Jami winked at her young sisters. “Didn’t Kyle teach you Marco Polo yesterday?”

Daphne clapped, and Mae whooped.

“Girls, let’s go.” Caitlynne tapped her foot as she studied her phone.

The twins splashed and ran toward their mother and in a matter of minutes, the trio headed back to their room.

“Um...thanks for being so nice to the girls.”

“We’re all family.” Beck rubbed the back of his neck and averted his eyes. Where the hell had that come from? Since when had he considered family important or interesting?

“I guess you’re right, but you didn’t have to make time to play with a pair of six-year-olds.”

“I’m not a complete selfish beast.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Is it so hard to imagine that I’m a decent guy?”

“Yes.”

“That hurts.”

“Shut up. It doesn’t hurt your feelings one little iota.” Jami snatched her towel and wound it around her body. “You work hard to carry off the aloof and unfeeling engineer persona.”

Beck raised his eyebrows. “Are you saying I’m arrogant?”

“If the shoe fits.”

“Then I guess we’re quite a pair.”

“I don’t think we have a thing in common.”

“We’re certainly both competitive, and I think you hate to lose about as much as I do.”

Jami’s nostrils flared, and she started to flick her fingers to shoo him away, but then she chuckled. “I have to give you that one.”

“See? We can agree on one thing.”

“I’ve only got winning on my mind right now.”

“Do you think it has to be a zero-sum game?”

“Like there is a way we can both win?” Jami finger tousled her hair and then twisted it up into a loose bunlike pile that she secured with a hair band from her wrist. “With only that one piece of property next to Dad’s truck yard? It’s not big enough for the two companies to split.”

“That’s true enough.”

“I guess that leaves it as a battle to the death.” Jami laughed, and it took the sting out of her words.

“Hail, Caesar, those who are about to die salute you.” Beck gave a mock bow.

Jami lifted her chin, but her grin betrayed her. “I’m glad you recognize my superior status.”

Beck threw back his head and laughed. A buzz of electricity sparked around Beck’s body. Jami’s lips parted, and she reached toward him. Beck stepped closer, but she let her arm fall to her side and dropped her eyes as she focused on retying the knot to secure her towel around her breasts.

Beck checked his watch and cleared his throat. “It’s already three. I’d better go clean up. Rob’s got a round of golf set up for us.”

Jami blinked and grabbed her sunglasses. “I’d better fly. I’ve got a three-fifteen spa treatment with Mandy and Jo.” With a floaty wave, Jami dashed away and left Beck standing by the edge of the lagoon, the sounds of the waterfall splashing cheerfully in the background.

Beck cocked his head and squinted at her retreating form. What the hell had just happened?

Beck ducked back to his beachside bungalow without encountering any stray family members. The ceiling fan whirred faintly, and sweet hibiscus filled his suite with a welcoming scent. Beck kicked off his sandals, and the cool tile floor cut the sense of humidity in half.

With one eye on his laptop and the other on the clock, Beck hustled to check his emails. He scrolled through his emails until the exact one drew his attention, and without an extra breath, Beck clicked it open. He skimmed the blah-blah-blah at the top and jumped to the meat. Oh yeah. BK Industries had scooped up the grant. He jumped up and pumped his fist in the air, but stifled the shout that threatened to erupt. No need in shocking the resort goers.

Hot damn. His company was set. This was exactly the kind of thing that country commissioners ate up. It was good for the local community, and it was fabulous for his company. Beck reread the message slowly this time and savored all the details.

This would allow him to double his workforce and likely increase production fourfold. He was going from small time to the big show, and it would likely open up the doors to new applications that the military was developing. Stealthy, silent motorcycles. Beck released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding, and he flung himself down on his bed in one fluid motion. He landed with his hands clasped behind his head and his ankles crossed.

Hard work and determination did pay off. And an innovative idea was no small help. His imagination started forging the new plant designs, and he could see the press lined up to talk to him at the next Detroit auto show or Daytona Bike Week.

Barrett Ridge was the perfect place to expand BK Industries. Oregon was environmentally progressive, and it had a nice little reputation as being different and off the beaten path. It was the exact image he was cultivating. His bikes were green and mean.

Beck frowned. What about the Barretts? He could handle Teddy he supposed. Teddy was old school and had a temper, and might try to make things challenging for BKI in the small town. It could develop into a rift. He’d have to consider a strategy for that and find a way to bring Teddy over to his way of seeing things. Maybe a fundraiser, or perhaps there was some kind of synergy between their two businesses.

A vision of Jami’s lovely, cushy derriere flitted past his eyes. This one was going to be trickier. She was all fire and competition, and he had the sneaking suspicion there was more on the line for her than simply the closing of a property deal.

He could cope with never getting an invite to family dinners. He wasn’t in the habit of hanging out with relatives, so it was no skin off his nose to miss out on any other Barrett festivities.

Beck cursed under his breath. He didn’t want Jami as his enemy. Suddenly, there was no doubt in his mind. He wanted her in his arms, twisted in the sheets and under his body. A taste of jasmine tickled his senses. It was her scent, and it was lingering in his brain and on his skin.

Jami was irritating and sarcastic, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of that fiery spark in her eye when she’d attack.

Beck wondered what his end game was. He always had a plan and a contingency plan. He shrugged and shut his eyes for a moment. Maybe he didn’t have to have a grand strategy for everything. Wasn’t that what his last girlfriend had suggested?

Beck bristled. A man with a plan could accomplish anything. Yet, it was his gut, or maybe something a little lower, that was urging him to just go with the flow and his attraction to Jami.

She was nothing like the string of part-time girlfriends he’d been mostly ignoring for the last two years. No. Jami was not artsy or homey. She was action and energy, and a lot like him, but different. Beck smiled. He always had his next five steps mapped out, and Jami, well, she was impulsive, reckless.

They were much alike, except for that. He closed his eyes and let the tiny thrum of the ceiling fan drown out his idle thoughts.

Beck leaped up. Time was a-wasting. He fired off a message to his legal counsel so she could inform the county of the new grant. The commissioners would be making up their minds anytime now, and he’d better get busy winning the Barretts over to his side, or it was going to get even hotter here on Santa Tarita.

But what about Jami? A ripple of guilt rolled over him. She wasn’t just another competitor. Beck slipped on a pair of running shorts and headed for the beach. It was time to wear out his sorry ass and clear his brain.

He needed to shake off the memory of those enchanting freckles on the end of her nose and the curvy goodness of that red bikini top.

Chapter 9

Jami reached into the basket and plucked out a folded piece of white paper. She had a sinking feeling she wasn’t going to be happy with what was written inside it. How under the stars had she gotten roped into a treasure hunt?

“Has everyone picked now?” Anna called out to the group. “I think it should work out that we’re all in groups of three or four. That will make the hunt all the more fun.”

Jami wasn’t sure why trios would be beneficial, but since she’d rather be drinking a mai tai and floating in the pool, well, she probably better keep her mouth shut.

Jami peeked inside her note. She’d gotten a blue dot. She glanced over at Sam and Jo who sported a red dot and a green dot respectively. She spotted twelve-year-old Carl waving a blue dot, and she motioned him toward her. As he approached, Beck put his arm around the boy and showed off his matching paper.

Fabulous. There was no escaping Beck. She folded and refolded the paper into a tiny square and glanced at Anna, who was happily handing out the treasure hunt lists. Her sister was on top of the world. Who was she to rain on her parade? She could suck it up for an hour and cooperate with Beck on this family bonding experience. At least Carl was a good little guy.

“Hey, Jami. Looks like you’re on my team.” Carl grinned, but then grabbed his stomach.

“You okay, buddy?” Beck leaned closer to the boy.

“I dunno. I feel funny.”

“Why don’t you sit down.” Jami dragged a chair closer to him, but he stopped and paled.

Jami knew that look. “Uh-oh. Can you grab that garbage can by the—”

It was too late. Carl hurled his breakfast all over the ground. He whimpered and retched a second time. Anna and Rob rushed over as Carl crumpled onto the chair.

“How many pancakes did you eat this morning?”

“I lost count after twenty.”

Anna choked, and Beck laughed outright. Jami snagged a few napkins and spread them over the mess and waved to an attendant hovering on the far side of the pool.

“I’ll take him back to your room,” Jami said.

“No, I’ll do it. I want you to have fun.” Anna rubbed Carl’s back as the boy leaned back and closed his eyes.

“Anna, this is your wedding and your party. You stay. Besides, you’re the master of ceremonies. No one else knows the treasure hunt rules,” Jami said.

“Dad? I think I’m going to get sick again.”

“Come on.” Rob helped Carl to his feet. “I’ll take him back to the suite and catch up when I can.”

As Rob and Carl eased down the stairs to the main level and then off to their rooms, the staff tidied up the breakfast disaster.

“Since there are only two of you on the blue team, would you prefer to join other teams?” Anna shrugged her shoulders.

Beck studied Jami for a quick moment. “Jami and I are team blue all the way. Besides, we’re the power team to beat. No one’s got a chance against us. With just two of us, we’ll run circles around you slow-moving packs.”

Had Beck lost his marbles? They were going to be stuck with only each other for an hour or more. Kyle and Austin laughed while Clara and Emma rolled their eyes, and Jami looked everywhere but at Beck, but her body knew that he was watching her. A spark of flame danced along her skin as if he was touching her. Her nipples hardened, and she darted a glance at Beck.

She held his dark gray gaze for a long moment, and she let out a tiny gasp. She turned away and straightened her loose cover-up. Please, let no one have seen that.

“So be it.” Anna looked up from her clipboard. “Don’t come complaining to me when you two come in last place. This is one tough hunt I’ve concocted. It isn’t for sissies.”

“Challenge accepted.” Beck thumped his chest and took the treasure map and list with a flourish.

Jami shook her head. What was she getting into now? Beck’s expression was now mild-mannered, if not meek. She tapped her foot. Whatever his intentions, she was game. She wouldn’t give him an inch.

“You ready to whip the competition?”

“I knew you were the right partner.” Beck flipped the map right-side up and scanned it.

“How so?”

“You hate to lose, and you hate me. So you’ll figure out the down low on this treasure hunt, and we’ll be the first ones done. And then I can get back to drinking on the beach.”

Jami narrowed her eyes. Was it really that simple? She shrugged. Probably not, but he had a point. “At least we’re in agreement about getting this over with as quickly as possible.”

As Anna shared the rules of the game, Beck handed everything over to Jami and let her be in charge. Jami focused on Anna’s instructions, but Beck distracted her with the steady stream of faces he was making for little Daphne as she kicked her feet in the pool and twirled her pigtail.

Fifteen minutes later, Jami stood at a crossroads of two gravel pathways on the far side of the island. She propped her hand on her hip and wiggled her shoulders as a drip of sweat trickled down the center of her back.

“I had no idea it was so muggy here.”

“We’re only a little ways from the equator. Fourteen degrees north. It is the tropics.” Beck sounded like he was reading from a Wikipedia entry.

“I’m melting. We need a breeze or one good gust of wind.”

Beck handed her a metal flask, and Jami opened it and sniffed gingerly. It was water.

“What? Did you think I was packing whiskey?”

“It would make this adventure more bearable.”

Beck laughed. “I’m all for family bonding, as far as that goes, but isn’t this taking it too far?”

“Anna is the terminally perky type, but somehow you can’t help but love her.”

“Is this an affliction that all the Barretts suffer from? Competitiveness and perkiness?”

“Hardly. I think she and Sam have the only perky genes. Anna volunteers for everything, and Sam’s a teacher. Although I think those high school students will beat the sunshine right out of her.”

Beck laughed like she’d intended. If she was going to be stuck with him all afternoon, she’d just as soon not be at constant daggers with him, and she might be able to wiggle some information out of him that could be to her advantage. Didn’t her momma always say you caught more flies with honey than vinegar?

Within a few minutes, they discovered their first treasure. It was a plastic wedding cake topper of a bridal couple on the back of a motorcycle.

“Does Rob ride?”

“He does. I heard him tell your dad that their first date was a ride on his bike.”

“Holy moly. Anna is finally letting loose.” Jami double clutched the cake topper and popped it into her cloth backpack. “She was always so prim and proper when I was growing up. I guess she’s finally relaxed. Kudos to your brother.”

“He’s not exactly a badass biker. No tattoos or criminal record.”

“Ha! That you know of. For all we know, they may have matching tattoos now.”

“Ew. The last thing I want to imagine is my brother’s love life.”

“Wuss.”

“What’s next on the list?”

“If I read this map right, we should be close to treasure number seven. This green and yellow froglike thing.”

“Let me see.”

“What? Do you think I’m incapable of reading a map?”

“I have no idea if you are geographically challenged or not. You were rather vague about our tropical location so you can understand my fears.”

“Nice. Thanks.”

“My pleasure. Now get off your high horse and let me see the map, too.”

“Fine.” Jami handed it to him, and his fingers brushed hers as he took it. A flash of fire shot through her arm and quivered between her breasts. Dammit. She could not be attracted to him. She licked her lips and imagined his mouth pressed against hers. It would be warm, teasing. Jami coughed and jumped back.

Beck looked up and cocked his head in curiosity.

“A bug crawled over my foot.”

Beck hesitated for a moment, but then he bent his head to study the map and the list, trying to compare the cryptic descriptions of the hidden items with the cartoonish drawings on the map.

Jami wondered if he’d felt the zing of electric attraction, too? Beck leaned away.

“There’s a lot of you,” Beck said without taking his eyes from the paperwork.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Barretts. There are a boatload of you Barretts. There’s thirteen of you compared to only seven of us.”

“My parents were fertile. So sue us.”

“You’re a pretty tight-knit crew.”

“Family is everything.”

“That’s one-eighty different than how I grew up.”

“You’ll have to get used to our overwhelming numbers. That’s a risk you take by trying to move into Barrett Ridge. We’ve got cousins and blood everywhere.” Jami shot him a defiant look. “We’re a challenge if you don’t stay on our good side.”

“I’m up for a good challenge. Keeps things interesting.”

Jami sighed. Suddenly she was tired of throwing barbs at Beck. “Come on. Let’s be friends.” She frowned. That was not what she’d meant at all. “At least, let’s be professionals and get this done.”

“Shall we plot a strategy? Divide and conquer?”

Jami surveyed the list, and Beck peered over her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat and a dart of tension shot between her thighs. He smelled of cedar and something tropical. It was divine. No, she was not going to let her knees buckle under her.

“What is a red ginger lily? And how are we supposed to know if we find one?” Beck’s bicep brushed hers as he leaned over and pointed at the second item on the list.

She was not going to break into a sweat. She steeled herself. She needed to remember she hated Beck Kavanagh. He was her competition, and she never lost her focus during a fight. Calm. She needed to find her Zen spot. Hell. Why did that make her think of a G-spot?

Jami pivoted and stepped away from Beck as she handed the hunt instructions to him, but Beck grabbed her wrist.

“Let go.”

“Hang on. Hold still.”

“No.”

“There’s something small, brown and very crawly, right in the middle of your back.”

Jami stiffened like a flag pole. “Get it off me.”

Beck rolled up the map and brushed at her back. “It’s stuck.”

Panic welled in Jami’s belly, but she dragged in a deep breath and exhaled in a low whistle. “You’ve got one job, mister. Now remove.”

“Maybe you should drop, roll, and squish it?”

“Is that a joke?”

“Yes, but you don’t seem amused.” Beck studied a spot right between her shoulder blades. “Hmm. It seems to have quite a few sticky-looking legs. Very wriggly.”

“If you don’t get it off in the next five seconds, I’m going to rip this shirt right off my body and set it on fire.”

Beck grinned. “Do you want me to flick it off or not? I like your idea better.”

“Do it. Now.” Jami ground her teeth together as a whisper of wind tickled a wisp of hair against her neck. Her knees wobbled.

Beck wound up as if ready to smack the crap out of the bug, but at the last second, he slid the map under the crawler and flicked it away, deep into the ferny undergrowth next to the pathway. “You’re good to go.”

Jami jumped three feet to the side and shivered. “What the hell was it?”

“It was a BDB.”

“What?”

“A big damn bug.”

“Aren’t you the comedian?”

“I’m an engineer, not an entomologist.”

Jami scowled, but Beck grinned. She scrunched her eyebrows as if to convince him she was not amused, but he pointed at her and laughed. A burble of laughter escaped from between her lips.

“Fine. You win. I won’t take this so seriously.”

Beck threw back his head and laughed with ease. “I find that hard to believe.”

As one, they bent over the map and the list and plotted their next move together. Beck’s shoulder brushed hers, and Jami’s pulse jumped. She threw him a side-eye. His nose was straight, and that chin of his was square, determined, and utterly sexy. His thick black eyelashes swept low, and her heart lurched.

Jami leaned in, and her breasts brushed his arm as she delivered a fleeting kiss on the hard angle of his cheekbone. She sprang back before he could react.

“Thanks for rescuing me.”

Beck idly touched his face where her lips had left a tiny smudge of peachy lip gloss.

“Anytime.”

They walked side by side, looking for clues in the shrubbery and in the mango, bamboo, and the oval-leafed lansan trees.

Jami kept her eyes glued for treasures, but all her senses were laser focused on Beck. The sweat glistening on his skin. The ripple of his triceps and the flex of his pecs were as lickable as a lollipop.

Jami was ready to do a little fraternization with the enemy. Even if it was stupid and off-limits.

Chapter 10

“What is that?” Jami pointed at Anna’s cryptic map as she angled closer for a better view.

Beck grunted. “A box with colored spots. Who drew this? A five-year-old?”

“It’s possible, but it was probably Anna or one of the girls. I think it’s a jewelry box.”

“Those red and blue spots are rubies and sapphires?”

“Maybe.”

“We passed a thick planting of red and blue flowers about two minutes ago.”

“I remember those blue orchids. They were gorgeous.”

“Let’s double back. It’s our only lead. There might be a box hiding in the leaves.”

In unison, they turned and tramped back the way they’d come. Beck adjusted the backpack with a grimace. “It’s too damn muggy to wear this thing.”

“I wish we were swimming instead of this stupid death march to find all this junk.” Jami glanced at the map. “I think we must be close.”

“I’ll check this patch of red flowers.” Beck pointed to a patch of blossoms about five feet away. “And you inspect those.” Beck indicated a clump at the edge of a “y” in the pathway.

Beck pushed back the foliage and poked around with his foot, but he couldn’t detect anything out of the ordinary. He kneeled down to get a better look.

Jami shrieked, and Beck leaped to his feet. Jami was sprawled on her butt and inching backward from a black and green striped, four-foot long lizard. The beast had orange spikes along its head, and all down its spine and its thick tail lashed from side to side. The large black pouch under its horny chin puffed up.

“Oh dear god. I don’t think I can move.”

“It’s not going to eat you. You’re much too big.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one at mouth level. He’s a monster.”

“Quit screwing around. We’ve got treasure to find.”

“I—I...”

Beck wanted to laugh, but the terror on her face was almost endearing. For the first time, she actually looked vulnerable. Beck waited with his hands on his hips.

“Come on. A big brave fighter like you?”

Jami glared at Beck, but then the creature took a scrabbly step toward Jami who clapped a hand over her mouth and muffled her squeal. Beck laughed out loud, and the lizard turned its glossy black eye at Beck and winked. The laughter died on his lips. Crap. That was one big stinking lizard. Did they eat people or were they just leaf eaters?

The lizard whipped his tail from side to side and lunged toward Jami. Gravel spit up into the air, and the creature grunted. Jami popped to her feet, and in a leg-stretching leap, sprang over the sprinting reptile. Jami hit the ground on one foot and bounded toward Beck.

In the next instant, Jami threw herself against Beck’s chest. Her arms and legs entwined around his torso and her head buried in his neck. Beck staggered back on impact but gripped Jami tightly to him. He eased back a few steps, hoping to avoid drawing the beast’s attention.

“Is it gone?” Jami whispered in his ear. Her voice was ragged.

“No.” The green lizard stopped and turned a baleful eye on Beck. Was this the moment where he should turn all alpha and charge it and scare it off? Or would that agitate it more? Was there a Jungle 101 guidebook topic on this?

The lizard huffed, and the orange tines along its back quivered.

“Get down, and we can run for it.”

“No way.”

“I’ll drop you, and it will eat you.”

Jami gripped him tighter. “Get moving, mister.”

Beck stood his ground and stared at the lizard. It huffed and swung its head and then snapped at a passing butterfly. The winged bug was gone with one swipe of the beast’s tongue.

“What was that?” Jami burrowed further into his neck.

A warm, delicious sensation spiraled through his chest and downward. He adjusted his grip under her bottom and squeezed it. Just a little. This wasn’t such a bad gig after all.

“Don’t ask. A butterfly just met a gruesome end.” The overgrown iguana shifted from foot to foot and then slipped through the leaves and shrubs. “It’s leaving.”

Jami trembled in his arms. “I can’t look.”

“It’s safe. You can’t even see it anymore.”

“Is it gone?” Jami’s arms loosened, and she raised her head.

“No sight of it.”

Beck eased his grip on her and Jami slithered to the ground, but Beck kept a protective arm encircling her.

“I can’t believe the resort hasn’t deported that horrible creature.”

Beck laughed, and Jami turned her face to his. She was oh-so close. Her mouth hovered inches from his. All he needed to do was bend his head, and he would taste her lips.

Jami blinked, and she seemed confused, but she didn’t move. Her body was soft, pliant. He waited another instant. Surely she would bolt or slap him or something.

He needed to know how her mouth would feel on his. It was the most important thing. Jami ran a hand up his chest and twisted a patch of his shirt into a knot in her hand. He slipped one hand behind her head and lowered his mouth.

The first touch was delicate, tender, tentative, but Jami leaned in. Their need collided. Heat flamed. It was slow and growing. Her lips were full and soft, but demanding. He caressed and sampled. Their tongues danced. The air in his lungs tumbled and froze in place.

Her mouth was so tempting and forbidden. Jami folded in closer still, and the firm tips of her breasts grazed his chest. He pressed a line of kisses down the column of her neck. Beck lifted his head, and Jami let out a slow breath.

He studied her brown eyes and the answering passion in them. She was all silk and luxury in his arms until she wasn’t.

With one blink, irritation flared in her gaze, and she pushed against Beck’s ribs and jumped back. With a flurry of fingers, Jami straightened her clothes and tightened her now floppy ponytail.

“Um. Thanks for the rescue.”

“No worries. I’m inclined to think leaping over that iguana in a single bound was more like Wonder Woman taking charge of the situation.”

“Yeah. Right. I was holding on to you like there was a mouse scurrying around.”

“That was a huge freaking lizard.”

“Seriously. How is that thing running loose on the island? It could eat one of the twins. Or at least a toddler.”

“They’re harmless according to the staff.”

“They probably keep them on the island simply to amuse themselves at the expense of the stupid tourists who lose their shit seeing them.” Jami shivered and tugged on her cover-up.

“We still have a treasure hunt to complete.”

“I hate to lose.”

“I know. That’s your defining feature.”

“Virtue.”

“Whatever.” Beck spotted a crumpled map near the edge of the path. As he picked it up, he willed the heat between his legs to dissipate. One kiss with Jami meant nothing. It had only been the adrenaline rush of a charging iguana.

“Nothing in those shrubs?” Jami sounded doubtful.

“Why don’t you take a peek?”

“Not going to happen.”

“Actually, I think I spotted some treasure back there.”

“Let’s get this over with.”

Beck handed the map to Jami and bent down to search for the small jewelry box he’d thought he’d spotted. There it was. A few inches behind the clump of red flowers and nestled next to a small striped plant with tiny white flowers.

“Got it!” Beck waved the toy jewelry box in the air, and Jami grabbed it.

As she opened it, tinkling, tinny music erupted, and a ballerina in a white tutu pirouetted in her never-ending circle. She picked out a pair of objects stored in the small chest “Here we go. Two stone hearts.”

“That doesn’t sound romantic or wedding-ish.”

“They are pink.” Jami held the pale pink stones up for Beck’s inspection.

“That’s rose quartz. It symbolizes love.”

“And a pair of them indicates Rob and Anna. I like it.” Jami stared at the stones, and a distant, unfocused look glazed over her eyes. Beck cleared his throat, and Jami jumped. She flushed.

“We only have one more treasure to find.”

“What’s the clue?” Jami hung back and didn’t try to take the map from his hand like she usually did. Was she afraid to get too close?

“Go to where the island ends, find the resting place of love.” Beck read the line in a singsong voice.

“Nice clue.” Jami pulled the resort map out of her bag. “We have a south and a north end of the island.”

“We’ve got a fifty-fifty shot at guessing right the first time around. Do you feel lucky?”

Jami’s lashes fluttered, and she stared down at her toes before she glanced back up at Beck. She flipped her ponytail with a saucy toss. “I braved a dragon, so this should be a snap. Let’s go north.”

“North it is.”

Jami led the way via the right arm of the pathway, and Beck tucked in behind her. It was truly a superior view. Her ponytail swished, and she charged ahead like a tiger was chasing her.

And he was the predator about to pounce.

That was a helluva kiss they’d shared. The adrenaline rush had given it an energy and a yearning he’d never had before. He needed to taste her lips once more, and he wanted the curves of her flesh pressed up next to his.

Beck licked his lips and tasted her salt on his tongue, and his erection bounded to life again. She was a tantalizing bundle of complications and curves.

He was not done with her yet.

Chapter 11

A breeze riffled past, a shower of plumeria petals showered down on Jami and Beck as they walked along the pathway to her cottage. Jami laughed and caught a fragrant pink petal in her hand and sniffed at it. She stopped at the stairwell leading up to her room and glanced at Beck. A smile played at the corners of his mouth.

She was tempted to lean in and steal another kiss, but she resisted.

“Do you want the trophy?” Beck waved the treasure hunt’s grand prize and laughed.

“I think I can live without it. It’s all yours.”

“I should keep it as a memento of your wild iguana run.”

Jami blushed and remembered the feel of him holding her tight and the hot crush of his lips against hers.

Another couple strolled by, arm in arm, and Jami shifted from foot to foot. She didn’t want Beck to leave, but she couldn’t invite him up. She didn’t know what she wanted.

“You were really good with Daphne and Mae yesterday,” Jami blurted out.

“Was that a compliment?” Beck blinked, but smiled at her. “I didn’t know you knew how to give those.”

“Just shut up and say thank you.”

“I’m honored that the mighty Miss Barrett of Barrett Ridge noticed I’m a human being.”

“Don’t push your luck, mister. I still think you’re the devil trying to destroy my family’s business.”

“Seriously? Do you take every business deal so epically out of proportion? I’d never even heard of your family’s business until I found out there was competition on the bid. I have no vile intentions. Your family seems perfectly nice.”

“I hate to say it, but you might be right.”

Beck’s mouth fell open.

Jami held up her hand to keep him from speaking. “I don’t want to like you or trust you. We’re after the same piece of property, and I genuinely believe expanding Barrett Logistics will be better for the county.”

“We’ll be doubling the number of jobs Teddy can offer.”

“But we’re a trusted employer. We’re not going anywhere. And we have a sterling reputation. Much better than yours.”

“We’re an award-winning company.”

“I’ve heard stories that all is not right with BK Industries.”

“Like what?”

“A sister of one of my old college friends worked for you, and she left because of sexual harassment. She said you had been the asshole who violated her rights.”

“Stop right there.”

“Don’t bother trying to deny it. I totally believe her. You guys settled out of court with her.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“No. I mean I was not the one making her life unbearable. It was the old president.”

“Come again?”

“You are so quick to judge, but you don’t have all the facts. When I started BKI, I went into partnership with Oliver. He was the business and marketing expert, and I was the designer and engineer.”

Jami folded her arms and waited.

“Long story short, Oliver was way too old school and had no respect for women. Three different women filed complaints. We fired Oliver and settled all the lawsuits.”

“Is that when you filed for bankruptcy?”

“Filed, but never proceeded. I lost more than half my investors, but somehow, I managed to find two angel investors and one loan, and that tided us over until we launched our first product and finally generated revenue.”

“It wasn’t you?” Jami’s voice sounded small, even to her own ears.

Beck’s shoulders slumped. “No wonder you think I’m such a bad guy. It was a nightmare. I still can’t believe I trusted such a scumbag to run my company.”

“What happened to him?”

“During the whole deposition phase, he actually ran off with his old secretary and his wife sued for divorce. The last time I checked, he was living in Panama and managing a cement factory.”

Jami’s jaw dropped and then she barked with laughter before she covered her mouth. “That’s hilarious. I mean, that’s horrible.” Jami shook her head. “Is that true? Crap like that only happens on TV.”

“Matter of fact, this little story was featured on some cable news show right after it happened.”

“That’s out of control. I see why your investors abandoned your company.”

“It was a nightmare.”

“Dad’s business has been sued several times over the years. There was one case that took over three years to settle. It was a pretty dark time in our household. My dad was all alone. Austin was still in high school, and Mom had only recently died.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’s life I suppose. We survived.”

“How old were you?”

Jami pressed her lips together. She almost hated the sympathy in his voice. As if she were defenseless and needed help. “I was nine.”

“My dad died when I was thirteen. It was horrible, wasn’t it?” Beck seemed lost in his own memories and his eyes focused on a moment long gone. “I’d lived with my father most of the time, and then I was shipped off to Fiona’s full time.”

“Why do you call her Fiona instead of Mother?”

“That’s her rules. I think it’s her way of denying that she has responsibilities and maintaining her own selfish identity.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. It was even better living through it.”

“I’ve got a Caitlynne now so I can feel some of your pain, but once upon a time, I was really lucky. My mom was practically perfect. Until breast cancer stole her from us.”

“A perfect mother. I’m jealous.”

“I know, right? She was a no-nonsense kind of woman. She didn’t let us cry too much or whine, but she knew right when to give you a hug or slip you a cookie to help mend hurt feelings or a wounded spirit.”

“My father was Irish and wasn’t too demonstrative with his emotions, but somehow I always knew he was proud of me. He went to all of my baseball games, and he even led my Scout troop for several years, despite knowing little about nature. He was a planetary scientist for NASA.”

“I guess that explains where you got your smarts.”

“Is that a dig at my mother?”

“Oh my gosh. I didn’t mean it that way.”

“Got ya!”

“You’re a jerk.”

“You’re a sore loser.”

Jami stuck out her tongue, but she laughed. “Don’t think that you’re off the hook yet. You may be a normal human being after all, but in my opinion, you are still public enemy number one. I don’t fraternize with the enemy.”

“That’s a strong word. How about opponent?”

“Foe?”

“This isn’t war. I prefer adversary.”

“It is a battle. Maybe not to the death, but this is the life of my father’s business. It means the world to him.”

“And he means the world to you, doesn’t he?”

“He’s the only parent I have left.”

“Teddy makes it hard on you. All his attention is on his new wife and the twins.”

“It’s not that. I’m an adult, and I don’t live in his back pocket or anything, but Barrett Logistics means everything to him. He and my mom built it from scratch, and it’s been his anchor when everything else has been messed up or miserable.”

“If you don’t clinch this deal, then in your mind you’ve failed both your father and your mother.”

“That sounds really screwed up when you put it that way.”

“I’m no psychologist, but you need to ease up on yourself. Don’t frown at me. I’m right. I don’t often think about it, but I’m messed up about my parents, too. I’ve shut the door on most of it, and I rarely see any of my family. That’s my way of coping.”

“I see my family most days of the week. Either at dinners or around town. Barrett Ridge is small, and there are a lot of us. Anna and Austin are the only ones who moved away.”

“There are a lot of you.”

“I love it. There’s normally someone around to share a laugh with, or listen to you whine about a bad day.”

“You’ve conveniently skipped over the nosy part. Isn’t Caitlynne up in your business nine days out of ten? I can tell she delights in cutting you down.”

“I’m not special. She picks on all of us. Except Austin. She’s afraid of him, so she gives him a wide berth.”

“I’m not one to judge family dynamics.”

Elaine strolled along the pathway in front of the bungalows and called out to them both. “Have you seen Sam? We’re heading over to the spa for a seaweed wrap.”

“No, I haven’t, but she might be in her room.” Awkwardness settled over Jami. What if Sam had been able to hear everything she and Beck had shared? She supposed none of it would be a big surprise to her sister, but she didn’t like the idea that Sam would think she’d been friendly with Beck.

Sam’s door popped open, and Sam poked her head out. “There’s a lot of commotion going on. Have I missed anything?”

“We’ve got ten minutes to make it to the spa.” Elaine sipped on the icy, pink concoction in the glass in her hand. “Do you know how to get there? I’m hopelessly lost with the maze of walkways around here.” She laughed and sucked on her straw again.

“I know the way.” Sam threw a saucy look at Jami. Jami caught her breath. Did that mean Sam had overheard them?

“Join us, Beck?” Elaine asked archly. “I’m sure there’s room for one more in their appointment book.”

“I’m good. Golf trumps the spa any old day.” He checked his watch. “In fact, I’ve got twenty minutes to get my butt over to the first green. Teddy is hosting us to a round.” Beck nodded to Sam and Elaine and then winked at Jami. As he strolled off, she fixated on his curling cowlick. Her heart executed a tiny dip-dive. It was kind of charming.

“You sure you don’t want to join us?”

“I’m good. You two go have fun.” Jami waved the women off and stood for a moment at the foot of the stairs leading up to her room. Elaine and Sam’s voices drifted through the greenery and bougainvillea, and a cheery whistle carried to her ears but was fading quickly. Was that Beck?

She touched her lips as if his mouth was still on hers. He wasn’t quite the monster she’d made him out to be. He was stupidly good with her little twin sisters, and he’d been surprisingly understanding about her motives for clinching the property deal. He was so much more than Fiona’s arrogant son.

And she had a sinking feeling he was completely right about one thing. He had a better than outside chance of beating her. Then what? She’d have to face her father.

And Beck would be living in Barrett Ridge.

Chapter 12

Beck lolled on the deck of the charter boat as it rocked to the easy pitch of the waves. The sun baked the top of his head and his back. He vaguely worried about a sunburn since the sun was so intense this close to the equator, but his eyes just couldn’t seem to stay open. A seagull swooped past, and Beck cracked his eyelids at the passing shadow.

This island living was paradise in his humble opinion. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so relaxed. He never napped, and certainly not when he could be diving or windsurfing with the others, but with his belly full of lunch, it had sounded much more tempting to just watch the horizon and the endless blue waves.

He refused to feel lazy. He’d taken a spin parasailing and snorkeling with Ryan and Carl, who was completely recovered from his bout of sick stomach. Yes, he’d earned a snooze.

Jo and Mandy were stretched out on recliners at the ship’s stern, soaking in the sunshine. A burst of noise alerted him to the location of Teddy and Caitlynne. They were up on the second story sundeck. As usual, they were bickering over some kind of nonsensical, trumped-up need of hers. He was growing to dislike Jami’s stepmother about as much as Jami did.

Teddy growled something Beck couldn’t quite make out, but then Teddy clomped his way down the ladder to the enclosed bridge. The captain greeted the older man, who then settled into the spare reclining seat and promptly stuck his nose into his all-absorbing phone.

Beck shrugged and turned away. Who played on their cell phone in the middle of the Caribbean? With glorious sunshine and salty waves, what more could a man want? He supposed the yacht must have Wi-Fi since he guessed cell signals would be nonexistent out here, miles from the island.

Beck rolled his neck in a circle and stretched out his back with a pop. The distant shoreline and towering, green mountains of St. Lucia beckoned on one side, and the golden sand beaches of Santa Tarita glimmered to the south. In the distance near St. Lucia, a speed boat bounded along with a parasail high in the air behind it, and Beck wondered if Jami had taken her turn yet.

She had looked luscious in her coral-colored bathing suit, the mesh cut-out sides providing tempting peeks at her midriff. Beck shook off the memory.

To the port of the yacht, a sprinkling of dive and snorkel boats and ships were anchored, and he imagined he could make out the tiny wakes left by the snorkels as the paddlers drifted in the shifting current.

The whirring noises of approaching watercraft filled the air and drowned out the strident squawking of a new pair of seagulls.

Austin, Emma, and Carl bounded through the aqua waters with a wild, snaking wake as Carl drove the personal watercraft in giant S-curves. Anna, Daphne, and Clara plunged along behind them. A third Jet Ski swooped close, threatening to launch a massive wave over him.

The watercraft abruptly swiveled, and the wave rushed away from the boat. Jami laughed, while Mae and Ryan, who rode behind her waggled their hands in greeting.

“Did you get wet?” Mae called out to Beck.

“You missed me by a mile.”

The trio put-putted in a circle around the boat. Jami’s grin was infectious.

“Why don’t you come with us, Uncle Beck?” Ryan tugged on Jami’s life vest. “Is there room for four people?’

“Only three, I’m afraid.”

Beck tried to gauge Jami’s tone. Did he hear regret in her voice, or was she simply being kind to Ryan?

“Jami? I have to pee,” Mae said.

“I guess we timed it just right then, didn’t we? Here we are at the boat.”

Jami goosed the engine and brought the watercraft to the side of the yacht while Beck waited to toss her a rope. Ryan gathered the rear rope and tossed it to Beck. With the craft secured, Mae held out her arms to Beck, and he pulled her up to the deck.

“Now you can join us.” Ryan smiled. “Is that okay, Mae?”

The little girl cocked her head. “I’m hungry. I want some cookies. It’s only fair that Beck gets a turn, too.”

Jami and Beck laughed in unison, and their gazes met in an instant of frisson. Beck’s mouth went dry, and all he could see was the breeze teasing a lock of Jami’s hair along her full, lush lips.

“Jami, I don’t remember where the bathroom is,” Mae complained.

Austin emerged from the below deck cabin.

“Can you make sure Mae gets her potty break and then a cookie?” Jami asked.

“Absolutely.” Austin smiled down at his smallest sister and pointed her toward the stairwell in the belly of the boat. “I’ll wait for you here.”

“Thanks—”

Teddy leaned out of the bridge and motioned Austin toward him. “Where have you been? I need you.”

Austin’s eyebrow shot up. “I’ll be there in a minute. I’m waiting for Mae.”

Teddy growled in irritation. “Fine. But I need your opinion. I’ve got another crisis going on.”

“You’ve got your own legal counsel. You don’t need me.” Austin’s shoulders stiffened.

“Dammit, another truck crashed last night, and we’ve got a surprise inspection happening right now.” Teddy flicked an angry glance at Beck, and he snapped his mouth shut into a thin line.

“Once Mae comes back up, I’ll join you.” Austin barely disguised the weariness in his voice, but Teddy must have been satisfied because he disappeared back into the bridge room.

Jami and Austin exchanged glances, and Jami shook her head. Beck turned and studied a cluster of boats in the distance. There was no point in making the situation any more awkward, but Jami and Austin had their hands full with Teddy. He kept trying to reel Austin back into his orbit, and there was Jami, yearning for his approval.

“Can I drive?” Ryan asked. Clearly the kid was oblivious to the tension weighing in the air. Austin leaned against the railing with a determinedly cheerful expression.

“Of course you can, it’s your turn.” Jami smiled as she stepped onto the yacht to make room for Ryan. “Beck, do you want the middle or the back?”

Ryan scooched forward across the vinyl seats, and Beck decided on the back seat since his extra weight would slow the craft down and help keep Ryan out of trouble. And, he’d likely be the first one bounced off the water bike.

Jami positioned herself and looked up expectantly at Beck. He grinned back as he stepped onto the watercraft. He tried to leave as much space as possible between them, but it was snug. “Close quarters, isn’t it?”

“Hold on tight, or Ryan might bounce you right off.”

Beck secured his grip on both sides of his seat by his hips. “You’re not going to throw me off, are you, kiddo?”

“Only if you want me to.” Ryan started the engine and checked that Jami and Beck were secure. Then he idled away from the yacht.

Beck tugged lightly on Jami’s long, brown braid. “Do you mind if I tuck this in the back of your lifejacket.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Jami’s tone was sunny. “That will smack you in the face when we get moving.”

Jami reached back, and Beck’s fingers covered hers. He squeezed, and Jami held still.

“I’ve got it.” Beck folded a few inches of her braid between her back and the life jacket. Her skin was warm and soft, and he almost chuckled when a blush crept up the back of her neck. Yes, he was getting under her skin, too.

Ten minutes later after countless crazy eights and wave jumps, Beck’s hard-on was driving him to the edge. Every bounce, Beck inched forward with his groin pushed right up on Jami’s cheeks. He’d edge backward, and Ryan would jump a wave, and boom, Beck was nestled into Jami again.

It was divine torture. Jami fit perfectly against him, and he was tempted to place his hands on her hips to hold her closer.

Long tendrils of her hair whipped near his face while her braid had worked its way loose and was bobbing along near his nose.

Ryan turned sharply to chase a wave. Jami clutched her seat, and Beck wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. She stiffened and sat straight. Within a few more bounces, Jami leaned back and melted into him. He snuck his other hand down the line of her thigh.

“Hold on, you guys,” Ryan shouted into the wind. He swung the craft into a tight spin and then whipped it the other direction, and repeated the move, counter-clockwise.

“Slow down, I think—” Jami’s arm flailed as she attempted to snag a handhold.

The next thing Beck knew, there was air under his backside. And then there was a lot of blue sky and wide sea. He flew high and had a brief moment to notice Jami soaring next to him. He splashed down first, and Jami cartwheeled into the waves. The Jet Ski zoomed off.

Beck sank under the waves and popped up side by side with Jami who was picking sodden stragglers of her hair out of her eyes.

“That was a ride.” Jami’s eyes blazed with exhilaration.

“Did you just do a round-off?”

“I think I did. Somehow I managed to land feet first instead of face plant.”

“You get an eight for sticking the landing, but your take-off was lacking.”

Jami stuck out her tongue. “It was the crazy arm flailing, right?”

“Not smooth.”

“You should have seen your face.” Jami chortled. “I don’t know if you looked more surprised or indignant.”

“Oh, like your face when you were cowering from that tiny lizard yesterday?”

Jami shuddered. “Totally different. That dinosaur was about to eat me. We’re a whole lot safer here.”

“Barring a shark.”

“I’m not worried. They always go for the guy first. It’s a known fact.”

“That’s reassuring.” Beck reached over, curled his hand under the buckle across her chest, and hauled Jami close. Their life jackets touched and their legs tangled.

“I’ve needed to do this all day.” Beck lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were cool and salty, but her tongue was warm and eager. Heat spiraled through his veins. A wave shot them up in the air, but their mouths clung and kept them close. The world closed tight around him, and all he could hear was Jami’s small moan, and the brush of their life jackets rubbing.

A pair of waves surged between them, and they separated. Jami touched her mouth, but softness around her eyes betrayed her. She hadn’t minded. Beck pushed forward and snagged one more touch of her lips before he paddled backward.

He squinted at the distant Jet Ski. “When do you think he’ll notice we’ve gone for a swim?”

“Any minute now.” Jami gave an easy laugh and splashed water at Beck.

Sure enough, the watercraft slowed and then drifted in a slow circle as Ryan spied the horizon. After two rounds, he finally seemed to spot them and motored slowly toward them.

As they waited, Jami played footsie with him under the sapphire sea. If a swell pushed him close and he threatened to kiss her, she batted him away. She laughed and tossed him a flirtatious smile, but kept him at arm’s length.

Ryan stopped and switched off the ignition. “Are you guys okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t even know you’d jumped off.”

“Jump. Fall.” Beck shrugged and held on to the edge of the watercraft. “It’s all the same.”

“Can I drive some more?” Ryan swung his gaze from Beck to Jami and back as Jami choked on a laugh.

“How about we let Beck pilot our ship?” Jami said. “I think he deserves a turn.”

“Nah. Ryan needs more practice.” Beck winked. “I’ll sit in the back. I kind of like it there.”

Jami bit her lower lip and seemed to blush, but she gripped the rear handle on the back of the watercraft and hoisted herself out of the water in one fluid motion. She settled herself in the middle, and Beck boosted himself onto the footwell and then straddled the seat behind Jami.

With a quick wiggle, Jami shifted and leaned forward, but her derriere pressed into his thighs. Beck hooked his thumbs through the strapping on the sides of Jami’s life vest and held her close. She glanced over her shoulder and shot him a saucy look with a raised eyebrow.

Beck inhaled. This was going to be a fun ride back to the yacht.

Beck stretched his legs out and knit his fingers behind his head. The water of his plunge pool glowed with the ever-changing lights beneath the rippling surface. The sky was darkening, and cheerful sounds of guitars and singing voices danced above the gentle rush of the surf. A tang of salt lingered in the heavy air.

Beck exhaled and rolled his neck from side to side. It was too gorgeous for him to be this on edge. He’d endured an hour-long hard-on with Jami bouncing against his crotch while Ryan went in endless loops and wave jumps. As soon as they’d reboarded the yacht, Jami had been pulled into a conference with her father in the sky lounge behind the bridge. After that, she’d been distant and avoided him.

A crew of two had served them a bountiful, early supper and they’d returned to the resort’s docks just as the sun sank near the horizon. Jami had escorted her nieces, Clara and Emma, off the boat with promises to see their bridesmaid dresses.

He’d headed off with Kyle and Dillon to share a drink, but he’d called it a night early, and now here he sat. Beck drummed his fingers on the tabletop. The Barretts were driving him crazy. He was sick of real estate deals. He was wound up with sexual frustration, and Jami was the source of both problems.

He sat straight in his chair and studied his laptop. Maybe he should freeze out his fiery thoughts of Jami with some cold, hard business facts. Beck blinked. Hard. That was a bad choice of words. Beck rolled his neck again. Focus, my man. Focus.

The troubles at Barrett Logistics could be the exact ammunition he needed to torpedo their bid for the Anderton property. He’d typed out half of an email to his attorney explaining the potential massive loss of business for the Barretts, but a knot of tension wound tight in his gut.

If he sent this off to his counsel, she’d jump on the information like a pack of hungry wolves. There’d be no telling where it all ended. He had no interest in bringing down Teddy Barrett’s business. And Teddy might be an overbearing pain in the ass, but that didn’t necessarily mean he was a bad businessman, or that he was at risk of going belly-up.

Beck closed his laptop and paced the length of the room twice before he opened the French doors to his patio. It was a bower of vines and flowers thriving on the warm, sandy-colored brick walls, and a riot of corals, pinks, and violet glistened in the pale light of the almost full moon. The scents were delicate and soothing, and the gentle rush of waves hitting the shore streamed over him. His breath settled and matched the rhythm of the ocean.

He’d been through too much with the nightmare of Oliver’s revolting behavior and the epic disaster of losing all the company’s investors. It still sickened him to think of the terrible details of Oliver’s sexual harassment case. That poor woman. No one should ever be subjected to those disgusting advances. He shuddered. How much worse would it have all been if the media had gotten hold of it? His company would have never survived. Hell, they would have deserved it. Oliver had been the CEO.

That was all behind him now. He had a good company. He’d routed out the bad, and he was ready to spring into the future.

He wanted to win the property deal, but he was going to win on his own merits, and not play some dirty, backhanded game that endangered Barrett Logistics. Hell, he didn’t even really know what a logbook violation was, so who knew if it was all that serious. Besides, it sounded like they were monitored by some regulatory body. It was so not his place to spread any gossip about them.

Beck inhaled the island air and sank onto the chaise lounge as he stared up at the luminous night sky. He had a code of ethics he lived by, and this was assuredly not the time to violate it.

Jami goaded him to new levels of competitiveness, but he wasn’t going to cross the line. He wanted to win the deal, but not at any cost. He’d have to rely on the presentation they’d made to the county and hope that the grant was enough to sway it all in his company’s favor. With a quick clap of his hands that emphasized his decision, Beck sprang from the lounge, found his laptop, and deleted the partial message. He powered down the computer and clicked it shut.

He needed to see Jami. A tickle at the base of his skull told him time was ticking down on the commission’s decision. If he was going to have a relationship with Jami, he’d better get moving. He had a sinking feeling that if he didn’t seek her out now, nothing could ever be right between them.

They were equals. Neither had won or lost.

Beck leaned on the doorjamb as the moon’s rays rippled in a dainty light show on the pool water. It was like fairies dancing a simple, joyous romp.

Had he fallen for Jami? Beck smiled. She was irritating and adorable all at once. She provoked him and turned him on like no one ever had. Need and hunger flushed through his veins.

Jami was like an itch he couldn’t quite reach or satisfy, but he kept on trying. He grunted, and the sound echoed in his tiny courtyard. Damn. That didn’t sound romantic. But it fit. He had a sinking suspicion one time with her wasn’t going to be enough.

A bird twittered from somewhere deep in the vines. A second bird squawked, and the twittering ceased. Beck raised his eyebrows. Indeed. The moment for talk was over.

He had a plan, and it was go time.

Chapter 13

Jami closed her eyes and let the sound of the ocean roll through her senses. The surf crested up the beach and then sucked back out with the tide. A tranquil breeze cooled the humid air, and the ruffled edge of her skirt fluttered against her thigh.

She lolled in the swaying hammock as distant sounds of laughter and steel drums drifted across the small bay. The lights of the resort danced on the water and stars twinkled in the inky, velvet sky.

She hummed under her breath and reveled in the moment. It was a pure slice of paradise. The world and all it concerns had ebbed away. The only thing real was the splash of the sea, and the soft shurra-shurra emanating from the dark foliage as a mystery bug serenaded her. Her leg dangled over the edge of the hammock, and she gave a fresh push to keep the rocking motion going.

She was in the only hammock on this side of the crescent-shaped bay, and she reveled in the luxury of peace and quiet. No more family for a few minutes, or maybe the rest of the evening. She needed a break from her father’s incessant worries about the company and the real estate deal. Even Kyle’s brotherly teasing had worn thin. She loved them all, but too much of a good thing had gone a long way.

A pair of voices and a soft shuffle of sandals on gravel buzzed by her ears. She closed her eyes and hoped the couple would stroll by and leave her in peace. She held her breath until their chatter faded away. Since when was she so unsociable?

An image of Beck shimmered in her mind, and a smile tickled her lips. That droopy curl that teased his forehead. Those broad shoulders flexing as he picked up her twin little sisters and tossed them across the pool. And yes, his gray eyes turning smoky and dark as he’d held her close in his arms as they’d run away from the attacking iguana. She chuckled, and her laugh echoed above the waves.

“Jami?”

Without even opening her eyes, she knew it was Beck. His voice was low, rich, and almost as sultry as the night air. Had her very thoughts summoned him? He stood a few feet from her, right at the water line, softly illuminated by the solar lights nestled in the shrubs around her nook.

A jolt of electricity zipped through her body, and a silky desire teased her core, and she wriggled against the nubby canvas of the hammock. “Are you on the lamb from the family, too?”

“I needed a break from another round of gruesome family story hour.”

“My dad has been good so far, so I’m sure he’s spoiling to bring up politics or religion, or some other forbidden subject.” Jami nudged the soft, sandy earth with her toe, and the hammock swayed faster.

“I caught my mother biting her tongue over a morsel of snark from your stepmother.” Beck’s voice was filled with amusement.

“Caitlynne specializes in cat fights. I hope your mother shreds her.”

“Enough. Let’s not talk about them.”

“Exactly. We’re trying to escape.” Jami fluttered her fingers through the fringe on the edge of the hammock. A pulse of expectation flashed through her body like a streak of moonlight glimmering on a forest pool.

“Have you put your toes in the water tonight?” Beck stepped closer, but his face was still cloaked with shadows. “It’s almost like bathwater.”

“Mmm...it’s too much trouble to move.”

“Come on, lazy girl.” Beck took her by the hand and pulled her to a sitting position as she moaned in protest. “Take a walk with me, or else I’ll crash that hammock with you.”

“It is wide enough for two.” The words slipped from between her lips before she could censor them, but she found herself casting an inviting smile at Beck and patting the empty space next to her. She held her breath.

“Cozying up with the enemy. I wonder if that’s safe?” Beck didn’t sound at all worried.

“You’ll learn no secrets from me. My lips are sealed.”

Beck eased down next to her in one fluid movement, and the hammock creaked, but it swayed rhythmically without missing a beat. Beck’s arm curved around her shoulders and before she realized it, she was nestled against his chest.

“Maybe those aren’t the types of mysteries I’m after.” He whispered the words in her ear, and her heart skipped a beat.

“I’m a tough nut to crack.” Jami rolled to her side a fraction and traced her fingers along his bare torso, finding every ripple and sinewy muscle of his chest. He sucked in his breath.

“I like challenges.” Beck smoothed a wayward strand of hair back from her forehead.

“Is that what I am?” Jami tilted her head and was lost in the promise of the fullness of his lips.

“We can’t have that, now, can we?” Beck’s mouth hovered next to hers as he slowly ran his tongue along his bottom lip. She held still as a statue and the night air hovered close, sultry. She arched her back, and her breasts rubbed his bare chest. Beck murmured her name, and they kissed.

It was divine. She barely breathed as his lips pressed into hers. Warm. Inviting. Playful.

“I’ve needed the feel of your mouth on mine. It’s been an eternity since this afternoon.”

“Was it worth the wait?” Her voice was teasing.

Beck brushed his fingertips along her bare arm, and she tingled with the fire dancing along her skin. She shivered.

“It was, and it is.” Beck chuckled. “I think I’ve got your attention now.”

Jami touched a finger to his mouth and traced its outline. Beck’s lips curved into a smile, and a tug of need built in her core. He was too damn kissable, so she licked her lips and claimed his mouth.

Silky heat exploded between them. Beck’s mouth tempted and teased as Jami’s sensations swirled in a spiral of longing desire. His demanding lips. His caressing touch. He was all she wanted, all she needed.

Beck whispered her name and nuzzled the tender spot behind her ear. Jami sighed as she clutched his hard, flexed bicep.

Beck fiddled with the top button of her dress, but as it was poised to slip free, he paused and grinned wickedly at her. “Do you mind?”

Her breath caught in her throat, and her breasts strained at the silky fabric of her bra. Dear god. There were way too many layers of clothing between them. “Please.”

One by one, Beck freed each button. He placed a long, sultry kiss where each had been. As night air kissed her skin, Beck’s touch blazed a fiery trail down to the gentle dent of her navel.

He curved his hand around a breast, and her nipple peaked instantly. Beck’s arousal pushed against her, and she arched her back.

“You’ll have to hold very still.” Beck’s voice was low, with a hint of laughter. “Or we’ll flip right into the sand.”

“I think you’re enjoying torturing me.” Jami stroked his cheekbone and jawline and delighted in the rough stubble rasping under her fingertips.

“With my kisses?” He suckled the tips of her breasts through her bra, and sensation roared through her. Beck slid a hand down her back and squeezed a handful of her cheek.

“And your hands.” Jami let out a muffled moan, and Beck kissed her lips into silence. She held her breath as his hands drifted along her heated flesh. Electricity crackled between them, but she held ever so still.

With his hand caressing her thigh, and his lips working their way from her collarbone down to the valley between her breasts, Jami’s eyes fluttered closed, and a tremor of wanting arrowed down her spine. Beck’s tongue teased her nipple to a taut peak, and he cupped her mound as he rubbed small, light circles.

With a mind of their own, Jami’s hands stroked Beck’s erection through the thin fabric of his shorts. He nipped at her pebbled tip and spanked her hand away.

“Bad girl. This is my show. No wiggling or moving or talking.” Beck hummed with satisfaction. “We can’t let anyone hear us.”

There was a hint of laughter in Beck’s voice, but mostly, his passion and longing seeped into her consciousness. As Jami opened her mouth to protest, Beck moved the damp fabric of her panties and slid his fingers along her folds.

She was all sensation and craving. She held ultrastill as if the merest sway would violate Beck’s terms of engagement. A breeze riffled past and cooled the exposed skin on her stomach and contrasted with the heat coiling at the apex of her thighs.

Beck was slow and deliberate, and then heated and hard, and then back to achingly tender. He explored her curves and planes as if he had all the time in the world to discover every secret center of pleasure. His hands roamed her body like a wonderland of sensual delights.

Beck brought her close to the edge but backed down. For Jami, the world dissolved and all that remained was the moment. His heat. His touch. Her battle to remain still despite his plundering of her body.

“I want you, beautiful Jami.” Beck’s words were like luscious velvet caressing her soul. She whimpered with a faint mew as Beck rubbed his thumb across the bow of her lower lip. She pulled his thumb into her mouth and sucked.

The surf rushed up on the sands, and through her half-slitted eyelids, the lights on the water danced and flickered. Crimson need blazed, and her sheath clenched. He licked a pointed nipple and stroked her satin folds and taut arousal. Jami cried out as intense waves pulsed through her core. Beck crushed his mouth into hers. His breathing was uneven, ragged.

The hammock swayed, and the rope groaned on each arc until only the shurra-shurra chorus lingered in the night. Jami clung to Beck. His arms enveloped and held her tight to his chest. His heart pounded in rhythm with hers.

The sound of voices approached. Jami froze, and Beck curled a hand protectively behind her head, cradling her close. The nighttime walkers laughed and walked past, oblivious to the lovers.

Beck loosened his hold and brushed a curling tendril of hair from Jami’s cheek. She studied the outline of his cheekbones, but shadows concealed his expression. She sensed he smiled.

A delirious lassitude sank into her bones. She could barely move. Wrapped in Beck’s embrace, she was protected and cherished.

Jami wound an arm around the back of his neck and pulled his head to hers. She grazed her mouth along his and nestled into him. His erection strained against her. With a tender smile, Beck raised his head and eased his arm free.

Jami started to speak, but Beck silenced her with a slow, deliberate kiss.

“You’re so lovely.” He bent and nuzzled and sucked each of her breasts, and then carefully rebuttoned her shirt.

Jami’s voice caught in her throat as her passion flared to life.

In one fluid motion, he pivoted and stepped away from the hammock with one hand steadying her. A gust of wind rustled through the trees, and she was chill, bereft without Beck’s warm presence. He gave her a small salute and then he disappeared back into the night.

Jami raised up and almost toppled down into the sand. She searched for Beck’s dark form strolling down the beach, but he was gone. She flopped back onto the canvas, and the hammock rocked wildly.

What had just happened? She laid her hand flat on her belly as desire coursed through her veins. One moment, she’d been deliciously complete, and with one kiss from Beck, she’d been flushed with passion in a mere heartbeat. Jami stretched like a sinuous cat and heat burned her flesh wherever Beck had touched her.

Beck had ravished her. Like a pirate claiming his treasure. Only he’d demanded her pleasure as his prize. It hadn’t been a race to orgasm like with so many of her other experiences. Beck had been totally absorbed with her sensations.

Jami ran her hands along her hips and arched with contentment. She almost checked her head for a tiara, she felt like such a pampered princess.

But why hadn’t Beck stayed? Had he just played her? He’d worked her into a frenzy and controlled her passions. Was this somehow part of his game to win the business deal?

Her mind spun. Was he hoping she’d be so weak in the knees at the sight of him that she’d gladly withdraw the offer on the property?

She rolled her eyes. That was about the stupidest thing she could imagine. Jami touched her mouth and knew that her lips were full and tender from the thorough kissing they’d received.

Damn Beck Kavanagh. She’d let him get under her skin. Hell, under her skirt, too. She wriggled at the thought.

Could it be as simple as lust? That must be what it was. She let out the breath she hadn’t even known she was holding. Well, passion she could control. She was a grown woman with needs, so there was no problem with that.

Jami leaned over and snatched her sandals from the sand and slipped them on before she slithered to her feet, the hammock bouncing against the back of her knees.

Lust was simple. But Beck had worshiped her like a goddess.

A girl could get used to that.

Chapter 14

With a little shake, Jami spread out her towel on the lounge chair and settled down with a view of the Plumeria pool. She adjusted her sunglasses, grabbed a glossy magazine from her bag, and plunked it in her lap.

The under sixteen set were playing games in the pool while Sam snoozed in the shade of a coconut palm, and Rob was typing away on his laptop. The kids called to her to join them, but she shook her head, pulled up her knees and turned the first page of the magazine.

Jami had to admit it. Anna had outdone herself. The day had been a blast with conch races on the beach, and then a guess-the-scary-food contest that the teenagers had won. Unlikely as it seemed, the two families were coming together and having a blast.

A blur of movement near the stairwell caught her eye. She turned and half-expected to see Beck, but it was only a dark-haired server bringing a fruit tray to Rob.

Jami rubbed the back of her neck. She was obsessed.

All day long, throughout all the games, she caught herself stealing glances at Beck. He’d smiled at her and even winked once, but he’d maintained his distance. They hadn’t been picked for any of the same teams, so she hadn’t been able to find a good reason to stand next to him, and somehow there was always tons of family chatting with him.

She studied how he interacted with his nephews and their easy laughter. He seemed determined to avoid solo conversations with his mother, but he laughed comfortably with his own siblings. But, what really surprised her was the ease of his relationships with her brothers.

Austin, Dillon, Kyle, and Beck had a constant stream of ready jokes and mild jibes to throw around. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear they’d been friends for years. Her brothers had fun with Rob, but they seemed to take Beck into their fold as one of their own.

Jami didn’t know what to make of it. Had she been totally absorbed in winning over her father’s approval, and perhaps not really as engaged in actually winning the Anderton deal? Kyle was the only other one of the family working for her father, and he had such a laid-back attitude, that nothing seemed to faze him.

Yet, here she was on an island paradise and stressing about a business deal. Austin had been the smart one to run. He’d changed lines of work and moved to another state to avoid their father. Maybe she needed a change, too.

Jami shook her head. No. She loved her real estate career, and she adored living in Barrett Ridge. The problem was her father. Or her need for his approval. What did she think was going to happen if she beat out Beck for the property? That her father was suddenly going to do a one-eighty and accept her for who she truly was.

Jami choked on her drink. Where had that come from? Had she seriously been pining for acceptance?

A fresh shout of laughter erupted from the swimming pool as Mae and Daphne took turns jumping from the pool’s edge into the middle of Emma and Clara doing underwater handstands in competition with Ryan and Carl.

Mandy and Elaine strolled up the stairs from the lower pool level up to the Plumeria Pool with their ever-present half-full piña coladas. The pair exchanged greetings with Caitlynne and Fiona as they sauntered down the stairs. The two matriarchs looked thick as thieves. There must be some new devilment in the making. Jami looked down at her magazine. One minute those two looked ready for a death match and the next they were intimate chums. It was best to ignore them, if possible.

The two Edwards sisters made a beeline for Jami and her empty table next to her.

“What’s on the agenda for the rest of the day?” Mandy asked.

“Anna’s given us the rest of the day off.” Jami tucked the magazine back in her bag.

“She told me she’s got a massage and a mani-pedi this afternoon.” Elaine took off her straw hat and hung it on the corner of the chair back.

“A little quiet time sounds ideal.” Jami wasn’t so sure she meant it. She’d much rather romp with Beck.

“We’ve been on the go since arriving,” added Mandy.

“I think Anna’s plan has worked.” Elaine played with the straw in her empty glass. “We all know each other a whole lot better than we did.”

Jami stifled a cough. Oh, man. She’d certainly gotten to know a lot more about Beck than she had a few days ago. Well, he knew her body a lot better now. As if on cue, Beck appeared at the top of the stairs. He stood for a moment and surveyed the patio. He stopped on Jami, and he smiled slowly as if he had a secret.

Jami returned his smile and hoped no one noticed that her nipples had tightened into nubby peaks. Beck made his way across the pool deck.

“Beck, sweetie, will you get me a fresh drink?” Elaine waved her now drained glass at Beck.

“Your wish is my command, oh lady of leisure. What else are little brothers for?” Beck smiled wryly at all three women but winked at Jami. A dart of tension clenched between her thighs. She exhaled slowly. One look from Beck and she was panting.

“We’ve finally got him trained.” Mandy chortled.

Jami smiled to herself. Oh, yes. Beck was well-trained. He knew his way around a woman’s body. A shiver shimmied down her spine.

Beck returned with a full round of drinks for all three women, and as he handed them out, his fingers lingered on hers and sparks of desire erupted all along her flesh. Beck’s eyes were dark and smoldering for a brief moment before he turned and stepped away.

Mandy snagged the tail of his untucked shirt and tugged on it. “Sit with us. We need entertaining.”

“We do,” Elaine said.

Beck smacked Mandy’s hand away, but he pulled out a chair, facing Jami, and joined them. Jami inspected her drink before looking up at Beck through her eyelashes. A flock of butterflies seemed to have taken up residence in her belly.

“Did you two notice Mom and Caitlynne in deep conversation?” Mandy asked.

“It cannot bode well for any of us.” Beck raised his eyebrow.

“The snark sisters have found each other after being separated at birth.” Elaine’s eyes got big, and she mouthed, ‘I’m sorry’ to Jami.

“Don’t be shy around me. I’m not exactly a fan of my stepmother.”

“She’s horrible to you.”

“Caitlynne is an equal opportunity dispenser of sarcasm.”

“She isn’t sweet or cuddly, is she?”

“Not exactly.” Jami shrugged but smiled. She sure didn’t need to defend Caitlynne. Let the woman’s actions be judged on their own.

“At least you’re not related to her.” Elaine sighed. “I live in fear of turning into our mother.”

“You’re not going to.” Mandy flicked her hand dismissively. “You’re like Dad. I think I’m in more danger of turning into the Queen of Interference.”

“You’d better watch out, Beck.”

“You know I avoid Fiona whenever I can.”

“I think she’s decided she needs some more grandkids.”

“I doubt that.” Beck shot a hard look at Elaine. “It would only remind her that she’s getting older. If she could, she’d probably tell everyone we were still teenagers.”

Jami snickered. It was reassuring to know their family was almost as messed up as hers.

“Nevertheless, Fiona has been busy thinking about your lack of a wife.”

Beck choked. “My what?”

“I think she has someone in mind for you.”

“I’m going to rebook my flight and leave in an hour.”

“She keeps harping on about the daughter of this movie director.”

A fist of jealousy hit Jami in the solar plexus.

“Is she dating this guy?” Beck sounded wary.

“I think she’s targeting him for her next spouse. Through his daughter.”

“Poor man.”

“You’d better get yourself a new girlfriend, or you’ll find yourself saddled with this woman.”

“You know Fiona has the powers of Satan at her beck and call.”

“Be nice,” Beck scolded his sister, but she ignored him.

“Are you dating?”

Beck shifted in his chair and studied his glass of water. “I might be.”

Jami’s eyes narrowed. Did he mean he had someone back home or that she was a maybe? She wasn’t sure she like the direction of this conversation.

“I think you should let it happen. Fiona might pick better than you.”

“Meaning?” Beck’s tone was crisp.

“You need a new type.”

“And just what do you think my type is?” Beck said with irritation.

Okay. Now this was getting interesting. Jami kept her gaze on her cocktail.

“You’ve never even been engaged, so you must be picking the wrong women.” Mandy sounded exactly like a bossy older sister. “From what I’ve seen, you only date artistic, touchy-feely women.”

“Wasn’t there a yoga instructor?” Elaine chimed in helpfully.

“I also met the Feng Shui consultant with a part-time witch gig.” Mandy fluttered her eyelashes and smiled angelically.

“I liked the dog trainer. She was hot.”

Jami laughed, and Mandy shot her a triumphant look.

“Are you guys finished?” Beck grunted.

“We haven’t even begun.” Elaine leaned over and toasted her glass toward Jami as if encouraging her to laugh at their little brother harassment.

Jami’s gazed bounced from one sibling to the next in amusement and almost horror for poor Beck.

“What about you, Mandy?” Beck’s tone was deceptively mellow. “Isn’t your biological clock ticking or something?”

“Mom gave up on me last year, so now you’re it.” Mandy didn’t miss a beat.

“Wonderful.”

“Isn’t it?”

“We’ve been talking, and we think you’re dating the wrong type of women.”

“And?” Beck scowled.

“You’re big time logical and analytical, so you must be going for the soft, cuddly, creative types.”

“You need a woman who competes with you. Challenges you.”

“You know, there was Alicia. She was competitive,” Elaine ruminated.

“That was a thousand years ago.” Mandy turned to Jami. “Beck broke up with her within a year of college graduation.”

“You’re not still carrying the torch for her, are you?” Elaine shot an accusing glance at Beck. Jami held her breath.

“You two are killing me.”

“She was exactly like you. Tough. In-charge. Needs to be first.”

“You guys are painting a flattering picture of me, but I’m not a sad sack who’s still in pining for an old college flame from ten plus years ago. I’m happy to report she’s on her second husband in the last five years and has twin sons who are three.”

“You know a lot about her.”

“Her husband is one of my investors. I like him a lot, much better than Alicia.”

“Fine. But that doesn’t answer the question.”

“Which is?”

“You’re thirty-five, and you haven’t had a serious girlfriend in ages. Why?”

“It’s not some ginormous secret, Miss Nosy Pants.” Beck ran his hand against the grain of his close-cropped hair at the back of his head. “I’ve been two thousand percent wrapped up in BKI for the last five years. It doesn’t leave much spare time for dating.” Beck’s gaze flicked to Jami, but it was unreadable.

“That does seem legit.”

“I won’t accept it as an answer.” Mandy folded her arms across her chest. “We need to turn his no into yes, or Fiona will turn her attention back to me.”

“Let it go, you two.” Beck scowled at both his sisters and then gave Jami a resigned look.

Jami gulped her drink and couldn’t meet Beck’s gaze. Was Beck telling her they were having a fling or that she was number one on his dating list. She fidgeted with the pink party umbrella stuck in the pineapple wedge on the side of her glass. One false move and Elaine and Mandy’s attention would be riveted on her, and she was confident her eyes would betray her secret.

Chapter 15

Mandy and Elaine cackled like a pair of matchmaking aunties on the porch, and Beck groaned.

His two sisters were too much like Fiona, not that he’d ever say it to their faces.

“All right, you two, I’m done with your little brother abuse.” Beck laughed and winked to take any sting out of his words, and he threw an extra smile to Jami. She had a quizzical look in her eyes, and Beck wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she was thinking.

Elaine popped to her feet. “Which way are you headed?”

Beck knew it didn’t matter what he responded. It was clear Elaine was going with him. He extended his arm out, and she locked her arm through the crook of his elbow.

Beck glanced back at Jami as Mandy launched into some story about her divorce. Jami’s expression was neutral, but Beck saw her shoulder twitch as if she was itching to get up. Beck wished it was to join him, but after the exposé of his previous dating life, he wasn’t so sure Jami would give him the time of day.

Elaine matched his stride, and Beck took a calming breath. This was likely going to test his patience.

“Are you having a good time?” Elaine’s tone was oddly smooth.

“I’m having a perfectly lovely time. Thank you for asking. Now, out with it. What do you want?”

“Nothing. How can you say that? I’m genuinely interested in helping you avoid the wrath of Fiona. Besides, you’ve been acting funny lately. Are you currently seeing someone?”

“There is no one waiting for me at home. I’m in the middle of relocating my business if you hadn’t noticed. I haven’t been on a date in months.”

“What about one of the Barrett sisters? They’re all pretty, and there’s a lot of them to choose from.”

Oh-ho. Elaine was on a fishing expedition. Something had beeped on her radar. She wasn’t going to get shit out of him. “Isn’t that incestuous?”

“Puh-lease. We’re so not related to the Barretts.” Elaine laughed and continued as if she hadn’t heard Beck’s groan. “I would think Sam is more your type. I’m trying to imagine you with Jo. I think you two would be pistols at dawn in the space of a week.”

Beck visualized Jami’s wet hair streaming down her back and her thin, damp cover-up clinging to her breasts. Yes, one of the Barrett sisters gave him a serious hard-on, and it wasn’t Jo or Sam.

“Enough, dear sister.” Beck disentangled his arm, spun her around and pushed off in the opposite direction.

“I’m only trying to help.” Elaine propped her hand on her hip, and her eyebrow shot up.

“Thank you. I’m a grown-up now. I can find a date on my own.”

Elaine laughed again and blew him a kiss before she started humming a tropical song and swaying her hips as she moseyed along the path back to the pool.

Beck shook his head but laughed. Elaine was incorrigible, but lovable all the same. He was being treated exactly like a brother. And for the first time, he didn’t feel like a half-relation. He was fully Fiona’s child, and he shared that burden with all his siblings.

Maybe this wedding and the enforced fraternization wasn’t such a bad thing after all. In an odd sort of way, he felt loved by all of the teasing and harassment from Mandy and Elaine.

As he entered his beachside cottage, Beck checked his watch. He had enough time to head out for a run and clean up for dinner. After a quick change of clothes, he loped down the path toward the golf course that ultimately made a wide loop around the greens and ended up on the beaches in front of the resort’s main high rise building.

As he ran, his legs moved automatically, and the soft shush-shush of his feet hitting the ground filled his ears.

A jumble of images of Jami flashed through his mind. Jami’s wild joy as she jumped over the waterfall. Her easy smile as she came up for air after flying off the Jet Ski and cartwheeling over the ocean. And the shadowy outline of her full mouth as he’d pleasured her on the hammock.

The late day heat and the heavy moisture in the air was a challenge to plow through, but Beck pushed until his breath came hard between his lips. His blood pulsed in his ears, and his adrenaline seemed to roar within him.

He churned through the dry sandy beach. When he looked up, he huffed an extra breath. He’d overshot the pathway back to his bungalow.

Beck darted up the next pathway and circled back. He eased to a trot and then a walk. He checked his watch for time and mileage, and when he glanced up, there she was.

Jami’s hair was wet and slicked back from her forehead. She had a towel wrapped around her waist, and only a skimpy, black ruffled bikini top. Water dripped from her hair down her shoulders, and one lone rivulet careened down between her breasts.

Beck’s lower lip dropped.

Jami said his name. It was only a simple word, but it held a universe of meaning. As if he alone knew the answers. As if he was the only person on the island. As if she couldn’t breathe without him. Beck melted.

Neither moved. A breeze burrowed down the path from the beach, and Jami’s towel flapped around her lithe thighs.

Beck extended his hand and waited. A tentative smile slowly curved on Jami’s lips, and her eyes crinkled in the corners. She slipped her fingers into his palm. Her touch was soft, assured.

With a glance in each direction, Beck keyed open the gate and pulled Jami through it to his bungalow. No one had seen them. He wasn’t ashamed. He just wasn’t ready for their secret to be front page family news.

The gate clicked shut behind them, and the world disappeared. Only the coral orange last streaks of sunlight penetrated the thick palm fronds shielding the bungalow. One lingering ray glinted on the blue and green glass tiles on the walls, and a shattering rainbow of colors danced in the air.

Jami was illuminated like a mystical sea nymph rising from the ocean’s depths. Another droplet fell from Jami’s hair, traced a path along the black edge of her bikini top and the generous swell beneath it.

With a gentle finger, Beck traversed the same trail the droplet had traveled. Jami quivered and leaned her head back with her eyes only half-open.

“That feels oh-so good. Don’t stop.”

“Are you sure? I am the enemy.” Beck nibbled on her earlobe and teased a kiss behind her ear.

“Don’t worry. This is my secret plan to destroy the competition and win the deal.” Jami’s hands slid down his back and gripped his ass. His cock was hard and tight against his shorts.

“I think you’d have to seduce one of the commissioners for that.” Beck traced hot kisses along her collarbone.

“They’re all over seventy, I think.” Jami’s voice was breathy, faint, but still laughing.

“You’d really make their day.” Beck moaned as Jami grazed one hip into his groin.

Jami laughed as Beck ran his tongue along the line of her top while his thumbs rubbed small circles over the firm tips of her nipples. “I think I like this game better.”

“We might have a win-win scenario here.” He squeezed and stroked the nubs until they were tight little knots. He pushed the fabric aside and gazed at the soft white skin and darker areolas. He bent and flicked his tongue across the tip.

Jami inhaled and slipped her hands beneath the waist of his shorts and cradled a handful of his ass cheek.

“I like the way you negotiate.” Jami ran her tongue along her lips. “I think you might need to up the ante.”

“How about this?” With his mouth, he suckled her breasts while one hand untied the bow behind her neck and then the one at the small of her back. The fabric drifted to the tile in a small black puddle, unheeded. He showered kisses down the center of her belly and licked tiny swirls around her navel, dipping in for a teasing taste.

Jami arched her hips near his face, and Beck’s erection ached. He stood and then scooped her into his arms. Her skin was heated, and she seemed to melt into him.

They tumbled through the French doors and sprawled onto the bed in a tangle of arms, legs, and lips. Jami shoved Beck’s shorts down his hips and encircled his engorged cock with a soft palm. Beck closed his eyes as fire and electricity shot through him. She stroked and rubbed the silky skin of his shaft until she bent and licked a lazy circle around the head of his cock.

Beck’s eyes fluttered open. Her brown hair formed a curtain on one side. She glanced up at him with a wicked, questioning gaze as she slid his length into her mouth. He moaned and wove his fingers through her hair. She sucked as she slowly pulled back and then let her tongue weave whorls of pleasure as she played with his arousal.

His need grew, and his muscles tightened. Jami was perfection. He wanted to slide inside her and pound out his desire. But not yet.

“Now it’s your turn.” Beck pulled back.

Jami looked up, and her eyes were darkened as she blinked slowly. Beck rolled Jami onto her back as he kissed and massaged her breasts. He moved and claimed her mouth. They tasted, teased, and bit and played. With a last tug on her lower lip, Beck eased down her lush body in a string of kisses.

Jami dug her fingers into his hair as Beck slid between her legs and moaned as he cupped her mound. He pressed the heel of his hand against her fullness and let his thumb graze the tight center of her need. He bent his head, suckled her outer lips, and flicked his tongue along her clit. Jami’s hips thrust up as his tongue slid down. Beck licked and sucked until Jami cried out with need as she twisted the sheet into her fist. Beck raised up, and Jami protested until his mouth silenced hers.

With one last, long caress, Beck shifted away from Jami and whispered, “Wait right here.”

She protested, but understanding filled her eyes when he returned with a small, square packet. A sensual smile played at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes were heavy-lidded with her desire. She reached her hand to him.

He explored and teased. He flicked his tongue wickedly across the pebbled tips of her nipples, and then closed his mouth and suckled and nipped. Jami ground her hips into his.

He kissed her until the world spun around them and the air disappeared from the universe, then he plunged into her. Jami bucked against his thrust, and sensation splintered through his flesh.

She cried out his name as they matched their rhythm. They moved as one. Jami’s need tightened around him and then pulsed in an endless ripple. Jami trembled and her muscles clenched in a melting release.

Beck arched and for an infinite second, his heart stilled, and his need gathered. He called out Jami’s name, thrust hard, and his orgasm blazed through him.

He closed his eyes, and molten fire poured through his veins, penetrating his deepest cells. Every inch of his skin blazed with the heat, and his senses spun. Jami had matched him thrust for thrust and flaming desire and need. It was magnificent.

Jami’s breath came in fitful gasps, and Beck cracked his eyes open. Jami touched his cheek and then pulled his mouth close to hers. They kissed until their passion stirred once more and then brought them to the brink.

The moon crept over the tips of the treetops as Jami and Beck floated in the sweet, warm waters of the plunge pool. With their hands entwined and silky strands of Jami’s hair tickling his shoulder, Beck reveled in the pure contentment and relaxation that wove through his every muscle and nerve ending.

Jami hummed under her breath, and Beck lazily studied her luscious breasts as they dipped in and out of the water. He almost turned to caress and suck on a succulent nipple, but as he turned, his stomach growled. Jami gurgled with laughter until her own belly responded with a grumpy rumble.

“I think we missed dinner.”

“I wonder if anyone noticed?” Jami kicked her feet, and a cascade of bubbles erupted.

“Or assumed that we were together?”

“I hope not.”

“Not having second thoughts?” Beck studied Jami and marveled at her smooth, moon-glowing skin glistening in the silver light.

Jami stood, and with water cascading down her naked body, she ran a hand along his chest, down his abdomen, and then caressed his cock. “Hardly.” She chuckled when his unit sprang to life at the instant of her touch. “I like having this as our secret getaway. It’s sexier.”

“Is it too late for room service?”

Beck leered down at her. “What did you have in mind? I’m a full menu kind of guy.”

Jami leaned down to claim a kiss, but Beck cupped a hand on one breast and locked his lips on the other. Jami laughed, but it turned to a low moan. “You are an island enchantress.”

“Are you my sex god from the sea?” Jami splashed water at Beck and swirled through the water until she backed into the wall of the pool.

“Try me.” Beck cradled her hips in his hands, kneeled, and lowered his mouth to the dark triangle nestled between her lush thighs. He cupped a handful of water and drizzled it across her hot feminine need, and ran his tongue along the same path. Jami shivered, and she dug her hands into his hair.

As he played with the cool water and his hot mouth against her flesh, Beck marveled at her body. She was strong but lush. Giving, but demanding. They were equal in every way. His heart lurched, and he looked up at the moon.

Jami opened her eyes and followed his gaze up to the glowing orb high in the velvety night sky. She whispered his name, and it seemed to float along the water. With silvery water glistening on her skin, she rose and wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

Beck cradled her close. He was never going to let her go.

Chapter 16

The gate clicked behind the server as Beck held back the curtain for Jami. She emerged from the bungalow in a white towel snugged around her body, and her eyes lit up at the feast of seafood, fruit, and fresh vegetables.

Beck held a chair for Jami as she slid into it with an appreciative sigh. Jami’s hair was piled carelessly on the top of her head, and the column of her neck seemed like it needed kissing, at least in Beck’s opinion. She was strong and confident, and soft and delectable. Beck extended his leg under the marble-topped table and rubbed up against Jami’s smooth calf. She paused with an almond poised at her lips and threw him a suggestive smile.

With their voices low to keep from carrying through the night air, they talked of everything and nothing as they feasted, and the moon soared higher into the tropical night sky.

“So why does Caitlynne keep throwing that Eric douchebag at you?” Beck speared a coral and cream-colored shrimp and popped it in his mouth. He waited to see if he’d get a reaction.

“Why do you ask?” Jami didn’t look up from her examination of the fruit platter. “And, thank you for noticing that he’s an ass.”

“You’re welcome.” Beck scooped up another shrimp. “But what about your stepmother? What’s her game?”

Jami nibbled on a strawberry and then wrinkled her nose. “Perhaps she feels better about herself whenever she’s tearing down others.”

“I’m guessing it’s a power game.”

“She does want all the attention on her and the twins. She hates it that Dad has adult children he still cares about. She nitpicks constantly. Sometimes I think my dad believes some of the garbage she spews.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I still feel like I have to prove myself every day to him.”

“So if you don’t close the Anderton property, you’re feeling like you failed him?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s messed up. You don’t seriously think your father will despise you over this one business deal, do you?”

“No.” Jami’s voice wavered, unconvincing.

“Now it makes sense.” It clicked in Beck’s mind.

“What does?”

“Caitlynne has sniffed out your tender underbelly. She’s figured out that she can use your need for your father’s approval against you. No wonder she’s always trotting out snarky comments about your former fiancé.”

“Doesn’t everyone seek out the respect of their parents?” Jami cleared her throat. “He is a tough customer to please.”

“Somehow, your father has you convinced that his approval equals your self-worth.”

“You make me sound pathetic and insecure.”

“I think you’re amazing.” Beck pointed his fork at Jami. “You are strong, you’re kind, and you rock at your job.”

Jami grinned. “I’ll take the compliment.”

“We all have strengths and weaknesses. It’s not a crime to be less than perfect.”

“What’s your weakness?”

“Well, not me.” Beck made a face. “I’m practically perfect.”

Jami chuckled. “I think I’ll go with what your sisters said. You’re afraid of commitment.”

“What guy isn’t?”

“Lots of normal guys get married every day, and it isn’t a big deal. You’re thirty-five, and it doesn’t sound like you’ve even come close.”

“I’ve had lots of girlfriends.” His voice sounded defensive even to his own ears.

“Have you ever lived with anyone?”

“No.”

“Dated for longer than six months?”

“Once. For seven.”

“You’re not conflicted about your sexuality?”

“No. Thank you for asking.”

“It’s a fair question.”

“I know exactly what I like and how I like it.” Beck ran his gaze over Jami, and he was pleased to see her blush slowly. “What about you? What exactly happened with Eric the Amazing Jilting Lawyer?”

Jami laughed as he’d intended. “I hate to admit it, but I think I was in love with the idea of getting married.”

“You didn’t love old Eric?”

“I had a crush at first. There was something titillating about the high school quarterback falling for me years after school. We had sports in common, and we used to run after work every day. He had a great job and plenty of money-making potential. He took me on fun dates and romantic weekends.”

“Then what?”

“I started to gloss over the problems. At first it was dumb things like he’d stiff servers at restaurants when he was mad. But then we started arguing about big things like having children, and how to manage our money once we got married.”

“That’s not a good sign.”

“Especially when nothing gets resolved, and one person starts to sulk. Then work late. A lot. And then starts banging half the dancers in Vegas while he’s doing the bachelor party thing.”

“At least you found out before you got married.”

“I’m everlastingly glad that he hit me over the head with what a creep he was.” Jami stared at her hands for a moment. “But the worst part is that he made the decision. I was such an idiot that I was going to go through with the wedding despite all of my doubts.”

“Ouch.”

“All the invitations had gone out. Presents were arriving. I was in deep.”

“Was it a big wedding?”

“Three hundred and fifty guests.”

“Do you really think you’d have gone through with it if he hadn’t eloped?”

“I wish I could say I was prepared to call it off, but I wasn’t.” Jami stared up at the sky for a moment, her forehead furrowed. “I’d committed to my course, and I was going to finish that race. Come hell or high water.”

“You didn’t want to lose face in Barrett Ridge.” Beck made it more of a statement, instead of a question, and Jami bobbed her head in agreement.

“My dad was pleased to see another child get married, and Eric is a distant cousin of Caitlynne’s, so I think she sort of felt like she’d set up the marriage, and it was up to me to take advantage of such a good match.”

“That sucks. I’ve spent the last few days envying the closeness of your family, and that you grew up in a small town and had tons of connections.”

“It’s not as glamorous as it’s cracked up to be.”

“Ha! Cozy and loving is what came to mind.”

“Nosy. Gossipy. Laden with peer pressure. That’s what comes to my mind. Are you ready for that if you move to Barrett Ridge?”

“Are you telling me you think you’ll lose?” Beck leaned across the table and brushed his lips on hers, to lessen any sting from his words.

“Don’t try to distract me.” Jami pushed him away, but under the table, she was busy running her foot along his inner thigh. “I’m just making sure you’re prepared for all outcomes.”

“Change will be good for me. Besides, it will be like I have a built-in family already. We’re practically siblings.”

“Is that how you see me?”

“Anna, Sam, and Jo. Yes. Austin, Dillon, and Kyle, also a yes. But you?”

“Well?”

“I think you’re irritating, competitive, and bossy.”

“You sure know how to charm the ladies.” She popped the last strawberry into her mouth with a smile.

“I do. Thank you.” Beck pulled her hand close to his mouth, turned it palm up, and placed a long kiss on her inner wrist. “And you’re funny, charming, and sexy as hell.” Beck moved to her side of the table and pulled her to her feet, then ran a string of kisses along the soft flesh of her inner arm and stopped with his mouth on the delicate skin at the crease of her elbow.

“That’s better.” Jami leaned her hip into his and cocked her head back.

“Shush. I’ve got more moves to convince you.”

“You’ll get no complaints from me.”

Beck cradled her head in his hands and stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs before he touched his lips to hers. He started with the softest of pressures, but as she trembled, he deepened the kiss until her lips parted and their tongues danced.

Jami raised her head, breathless, and ruffled her fingers through his hair. Electricity and heat followed the course of her hands, and Beck pressed his hand into the small of her back until her hips pressed into his and her towel fell away, unnoticed.

Beck pulled Jami close and she settled into the crook of his shoulder and arm with a delicate sigh, and within minutes, she’d fallen deep into sleep. Through the French doors, the ocean whispered, and moonlight danced along the palm fronds rustling in the breeze.

Jami rubbed her head against his chest, and her hand curled close to her cheek. It was all oddly perfect. She equaled him in every way. Her passion was as strong.

She didn’t shrink from teasing him or trying to best him in an argument or in a physical competition. Beck smiled. Whether it was tennis, snorkeling, or a treasure hunt, Jami was a gamer and would give it her all.

Yet, despite her bold exterior, she tried to protect her feelings. Like her crunchy shell on the outside was a show to shield her tender heart. That jerk of an ex-fiancé must have really done a number on her self-confidence. Not that surprising, he supposed. Beck tried to imagine one of his old girlfriends eloping with a stripper while they’d still been dating. Um, yeah. That would shake the foundations of his self-worth.

In the pale light, Jami’s dark eyelashes fanned across her cheek, and she seemed fragile, breakable. He stroked her hair with a tender touch, closed his eyes, and drifted into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter 17

Jami smoothed the filmy layers of her skirt and did a final check on the curling tendrils of hair on her neck. Yep. She looked good. Matter of fact, she looked rather fetching and probably enough to catch Beck’s attention.

A shiver of memory rippled over her skin. She was ready for the touch of his hands again. It had been three long hours since she’d been wrapped in his arms. It was much too long. Jami stifled a sigh as she glanced at her sister, Sam, who was shimmying into a body shaper in preparation for the bridesmaid’s dress. The wedding ceremony was less than an hour away.

“You look wonderful in that deep lavender.” Sam looked over her shoulder as she twitched at the fabric of her own dress.

“It does show off my tan, doesn’t it?”

“You do have the best figure of all of us.”

“I’ll keep you around for the moral support.” Jami hugged Sam but was careful not to crush the delicate, lacy fabric.

“You ready for Anna’s big moment?”

“Funny, she’s getting married twice before any of the rest of us have even tried it once.”

“The right man makes all the difference.” Jami almost purred the words. Now, why did Beck’s face pop into her mind when imagining Mr. Right? She smiled, and it must have been a naughty look because Sam narrowed her eyes.

“What trouble are you getting into?” Sam whisked a blush brush along the sides of her nose and a dab on her chin.

“Come on, we need to hurry up and get over to Anna’s suite.” Jami turned away to keep her sister from reading her expression. “I bet Jo will be knocking on the door any minute to round us up.”

Jami’s phone buzzed noisily on the nightstand, and she turned to it in relief. She did not want to divulge any of her midnight adventures to Sam. At least not yet.

“You go on ahead. I want to check my emails one more time.”

Sam made a face. “Fine. But leave that stupid phone in your room or locked up in your purse. This is Anna’s wedding. Be present.”

Jami waved her out the door. “I hear you.”

Jami snatched up her phone and eagerly combed through her messages. The county’s decision had been made. The email was nestled between a one-day discount deal on bedding and a real estate investment seminar offer. Her breath caught in her throat, and she pressed the phone against the filmy fabric of her bodice.

At the moment of truth, she hesitated. She liked this oasis of ignorance. She and Beck were on an even playing field. They each had strengths and weaknesses. She smiled softly. She hated bugs, and he ran from lizards. And they both weren’t too certain about those heights at the waterfalls.

She quivered. Beck filled her senses. She imagined his tongue dancing circles around her nipples, then down the center crease of her torso until he dipped to taste her honeyed core.

Yes, they both gave as much pleasure to one another as they took. At least for her, she’d never experienced such intense ecstasy. She wanted more of him, and she had a sinking feeling she might never quite have her fill of him. Ultimate satisfaction made her want more. She flushed. She was greedy.

A cool breeze shot through the room. The sheers at the window billowed. A note paper lifted up and fluttered to the floor. Jami bit her lip and gazed at the blinking light on her phone.

She tapped the email message and allowed the awkward legalese to sink in. She read it a second time. Unbelievable. Her knees locked and a knife twisted in her gut. BK Industries had won the zoning change and could proceed with the purchase of the land.

She’d lost. Austin would shake his head and give her his pity. Caitlynne would declare Jami was depriving her youngest siblings of their inheritance. And Dad. What would he think? He’d know for sure that she was a fake and useless. That she was unworthy of his love or his trust.

Jami gulped at the knot clogging her throat. It was only real estate, but her life was in ruins. She’d failed her family.

She scanned the email a third time. What was this about a federal grant for BK Industries? Her shoulders slumped. No wonder the county decided in favor of Beck’s firm. Barrett Logistics couldn’t compete with that. A tight anger swelled in her chest.

Beck had snuck it past her. No. He definitely failed to mention it at the hearing. He must have amended the paperwork after the fact. Beck had outsmarted her. Jami curved her fingers into fists, and the nails slowly gouged into her palms.

There was a series of quick raps, and Kyle peered through the cracked door opening. “You decent? Jo sent me to find you.”

Jami tossed the phone on the bed and lifted her chin. “I’m so ready. Let’s go.”

With minutes to spare, Jami lined up amidst her sisters and nieces. Everyone was all smiles while Daphne and Mae giggled and spun in circles to watch their skirts swirl. Anna’s daughters’ heads were close as they whispered to each other, and Rob’s boys stood at rigid attention with the bug eyes of nerves. Jami took it all in as if she were a reporter, all of her emotions walled off inside a solid brick bunker.

Sam and Jo fluffed Anna’s veil while Mandy and Elaine lined up on each side of Anna and planted kisses on each cheek, and then sashayed down the wooden pier to join the rest of the family.

Jami’s father and brothers were gathered at the entrance to the gazebo. She caught her father’s eye, and he raised an eyebrow and shook his head. Heat rose in Jami’s cheeks. He knew. She mouthed the words, I’m sorry. Her father pursed his lips and flicked his gaze away from her. Caitlynne briefly smirked before turning to straighten the boutonniere in her husband’s pocket.

Bile rose in Jami’s throat, and then she spotted Beck. He stood next to the groom under the curling, white wrought iron gazebo roof. He was dressed in snug black slacks with a crisp, deep golden shirt. Sunlight sparked off the crystal of his silver cuff links. She’d last seen him in the luminous glow of moonlight with a rumpled white sheet half sprawled across his nakedness. Her pulse skipped. He was too damn sexy.

Beck’s expression was questioning. Jami stood taller and inclined her head ever so slightly toward him. There was no point in revealing her devastation. Besides, this was Anna and Rob’s moment, and no one needed to see she was a sore loser. Pathetic wreck was more like it.

Jami blinked once and pulled her emotions close, like a strangling noose around her neck. The wedding processional music started, and with a little prodding from Sam, the twins marched the length of the pier while artfully pausing every two steps to chuck a handful of flower petals from the straw baskets on their arms.

Emma and Carl went next, arm in arm. Carl was all seriousness as Emma smiled like a beauty queen, and Jami almost expected her to start the parade float wave. Ryan poked his elbow out at Clara who daintily rested her fingertips on his arm, and they marched along the wooden boardwalk at full speed with pink spots flaring on their cheeks.

One by one, Jami and her sisters strolled to the gazebo and turned to wait for the bride. The music picked up tempo, and a calypso version of the wedding march danced through the air.

Anna burst into a joyous smile, shimmied her shoulders, and shook her hips and danced toward the gazebo. Rob let out a whoop and joined her in their dance. As they reached the gazebo steps, Anna performed one last twirl and fell into Rob’s arms. They kissed and stepped up to the altar.

As the couple exchanged vows, the strong morning sun burned on the back of her bare neck, and a bead of sweat hovered on her upper lip. A seagull squawked, and Jami glared at the miscreant avian. Of course, Beck was cool as a cucumber. His weight was shifted to one hip, and one hand rested on Ryan’s shoulder as the boy fidgeted.

Beck smiled at her, but Jami blinked once and turned her attention to Anna and Rob as they lit the unity candle. Not a single gust of wind marred the moment, as two flames joined into one. Lucky Anna. Rob was a wonderful guy, and they were beginning their happily ever after.

A tiny puff of a breeze cooled Jami’s damp skin. She peeked at Beck, and he was standing straight, and his hands had fallen to his sides. The back of his neck was red, but it might have only been from the sun, and not anger. His mouth was pressed into a thin line.

As Rob and Anna shared their first kiss as husband and wife, Daphne let out a cheer, and both families broke out in applause and laughter. The crystal clear aqua waters glistened in the sunshine, and the sheer white tulle bunting lining the pier and encircling the gazebo bounced with each freshening, warm breeze.

Jami smiled and clapped with everyone. As the happy couple kissed again, Jami scanned the faces of her family until she caught her father’s eye. His grin faded and his expression hardened. He deliberately looked away.

A lead weight lodged on her chest, and an ache burned at the back of Jami’s throat.

Amidst the toasting and feasting during the plated luncheon, Anna glowed, and Rob smiled from ear to ear as if he was the luckiest man on the planet. Jami made sure she squeezed in her toast to the blessed couple and made double sure she avoided any contact with Beck.

The first time Beck had approached, Jami had lowered her gaze and darted off to check on the twins at the kid’s table. But the second time had been harder.

She stood chatting with Dillon, Jo, Elaine and sturdy, young Carl who seemed very grown up with his starched shirt and tie. Her constant Beck-radar spotted him on a low angle approach from the south. His expression was careful, guarded, but his smile was genuine. Beck offered her a glass of champagne.

“No, thank you.” Jami made sure her tone was distant but polite. “I’ve had enough.”

“My mistake.” Beck’s gaze narrowed and his nostrils flared for the briefest of moments before he offered the unwanted bubbly to Jo.

She accepted it and sipped it with a merry sigh. Beck moved to the other side of the circle where Dillon was helping Carl loosen the sporty tie from around his neck. Carl made a face as he dangled the offending tie from one hand before he stuffed it in his pocket. Dillon and Beck roared with laughter. The knot in her belly tightened.

After the cake cutting, the bridal couple slow danced, and Jami spotted her father and Beck shaking hands. Their heads were bent close, and then her father patted Beck on the back and joined Caitlynne who was sitting by herself. Her father glanced in her direction but skimmed right past her. Perhaps he was looking for something else. Or he was deliberately ignoring her. Jami’s stomach roiled, and a sour taste stuck in her throat.

The afternoon wore on, and a breeze mercifully kicked up to relieve the midday heat and blow away the threatening storm clouds on the horizon. Jami’s lavender dress clung to her damp, bare legs.

With a constant eye on Beck’s brown cowlick at the back of his head, she dodged him as if he was carrying the black plague, which was no small feat with only eighteen other people to hide behind. She knew she was being childish, but she couldn’t face him. She was exposed and wounded. Her father couldn’t bear to look at her, and Beck had beaten her.

She finally sidled up to Fiona on the bet that Beck would rather avoid his mother. Beck stood by the bar with a beer bottle poised at his lips. He shot an inquisitive glance at Jami, but she tossed back a prim smile and turned her attention back to Fiona.

As the woman droned on about her fourth wedding that had also been at a tropical resort, but in the much superior Maldives, Beck pushed off the railing and made his way to the bar. Jami chewed on her lip as Beck approached Austin and Dillon with three bottles of brew in his hand. He set them on the table, and the three guys shook hands and slapped each other on the back. Beck leaned close to Austin. Jami strained to catch what was being said, but the live band drowned it out.

Jami wrinkled her nose and tried to pick up the thread as Fiona discussed the merits of prenuptial agreements. Every few seconds, her gaze wandered back to Beck and her brothers. Austin shook his head, shrugged his shoulders, and then clinked bottles with Beck. The men spread around the table with legs stretched out as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The fist in her stomach eased a fraction. At least the whole family didn’t hate her for losing the deal.

She glanced toward her father, and he met her gaze. He scowled and his mouth screwed up into a tight pucker. He blinked once and then turned his back on her.

Jami stiffened and fought the urge to look behind her. Surely, her father’s anger was directed at someone other than her. She inhaled a stuttering breath, and in one ear she listened to Fiona lament the lack of red roses at her fifth wedding because her groom of the day had been allergic to roses.

Jami nodded and murmured sympathetically, but the air closed in around her. The breeze had shriveled to nothing. A seagull screeched, and Jami twitched.

With a quick excuse, Jami weaseled her way out of her tête-a-tête with Fiona, set her glass on a table, and eased toward the edge of the gathering. She gave a quick wave to Anna and hoped the bride assumed she was making a run for the little girl’s room. Then, Jami marched down the boardwalk back toward the beach and the hotel.

As she passed the piano bar, she considered stopping to powder her nose and gather her wits. No. She needed the peace of her own room.

The air was still, and all she could hear was the crunching of the gravel under her feet and the cooing of a lone dove from somewhere high above her.

She rounded the final curve in the path to her cottage.

Beck leaned against the stairwell railing. His golden shirt was still immaculately pressed despite the heat. He pushed off the railing and his muscles tensed under his shirt. Need ripped through her core. Dammit.

Perhaps she could sprint past him and dart up the stairs?

A grim laugh rumbled out of Beck. “Don’t even try it. You’ll never make it past me.”

Chapter 18

Jami closed her eyes and crossed her arms. Boy, it was just downhill all the way today, wasn’t it? Lost the deal. Her father was furious. And now Beck. She was overflowing with her bad decisions. Her shoulders threatened to sag, but she stood taller and held her head high.

“Go away, Beck.” She looked him straight in those dark gray eyes. Her pulse pounded in her ears. “I don’t have time for you.”

“I’m here, so you have to deal with me.”

Damn. This island was much too small.

“Fine. Congratulations on winning the Anderton deal. Welcome to the family. Welcome to Barrett Ridge. We’re delighted to have you.”

“Was that so difficult?” His tone was cajoling. “I thought you were a better sport than that?”

That stung. Of course there was always tomorrow, but right now, that seemed about a million miles away. “I’m disappointed, but unfortunately, this wasn’t destined to be my deal. I hope the best for BK Industries.”

“Come on, Jami. This is Beck you’re talking to. Losing sucks, but it was only business.”

Tell that to her father. She was probably disinherited, and definitely off the Christmas card list.

Jami’s nostrils flared. “You cheated.”

“I played fair and square.”

“Liar. The commission says you have a federal grant that will bring extra benefits to Barrett Ridge. This is the first I’ve heard of it.”

“We didn’t have it when we presented to the commission.”

“How could I defend our application if I didn’t know all the pertinent facts?”

“If I’d told the board that a grant was pending, you would have blown me out of the water.”

“You’ve got that right.”

“We found out last week and amended our offer.”

All of Jami’s anger drained out. She leaned into the wall. Her legs didn’t want to support her anymore. “You outfoxed me. You win. Good for you.”

She pivoted and flew down the path, toward who only knew what. She wanted distance between her and Beck. Why couldn’t she be smooth and accept this like any other negotiation? Why had she needed to win this one?

Within a few steps, Beck caught her and matched her stride for stride. He let the silence reign. They emerged onto the upper private pool area. It was deserted, although the sounds of children laughing echoed up from the lower pool area that was available to all the resort goers. Jami focused on the path at the far end of the pool deck. If she could just make it past the hot tub, she might be able to ditch Beck.

She stretched her legs and her stride, but Beck met her measure for measure. She stopped and propped her hand on her hip.

“I know this is a small island, and there aren’t too many folks to talk to, but seriously, I’m done with our small talk.”

“We’re not finished yet.”

“What is it that you want from me?”

“Last night was spectacular. I don’t want business to come between us.” His voice was coaxing, and his smile was gentle.

“I’m sorry. I’m not good at segmenting my life into little compartments. So forgive me if I’m not thinking about our little fling in the sheets. I’m pretty sure that’s over with.” Jami dusted her hands together with a dismissive smacking noise.

Beck took her hand, and despite the fury rolling around in her belly, she let him. She stared at her shiny, lavender-painted toenails peeping out of her sandals.

“Stop it.” Beck squeezed her hand. “I think I understand some of your family dynamic. I saw how your father looked at you. He’s playing head games with you.”

Jami looked up at him through her lashes. “That’s how it rolls with the head Barrett. Get used to it. I’ve had to.”

“You deserve better than that.”

“Do I?”

“That’s pretty messed up if he only loves his daughter if she wins deals for his business.”

“It’s his rules.” Jami held her breath.

“You don’t have to play by them.”

“You don’t, but I do. I don’t know any other way.” Jami glanced down. Her father was cruel, but what could she do? He was family.

“Why does he treat you like that?”

“I suppose he’s a zero-sum kind of guy. If someone else wins, that means there’s less for him. He doesn’t tolerate losers or those who screw things up for him.”

“That’s a messed-up way to see things.”

Jami shrugged.

“Your deal was solid, but mine was better.” Beck’s voice was quiet. “Teddy can’t blame you for that. No one wins every time.”

“I shouldn’t have lost.” Jami dropped her gaze as it blurred with unbidden tears. Dammit. She didn’t cry. It was only real estate. Her family would still be able to put dinner on the table. They weren’t getting evicted or anything.

“It happens.” Beck’s expression was gentle. “Someone had to win. This time it was BK Industries.”

Was he being condescending? She swallowed hard. Dammit, he was looking at her just like Eric had. Like she was a child who needed things explained to her with words of one syllable. She pinched her lips together.

She’d lost face with her father, and she’d bungled a multimillion-dollar deal. She’d been overconfident. She must not have done her homework thoroughly. She should have played hardball and brought up the sexual harassment lawsuit.

Jami shied away from that. She didn’t play low ball. It hadn’t been Beck’s fault. In fact, he’d cleaned up the mess and settled generously. Jami looked away. Eric would have swept that kind of issue under the rug and ignored the whole thing. No. Beck was nothing like Eric.

Bile rose in her throat. Perfect. Beck was better than she was at negotiating. He was nicer than she was. Even her brothers liked him better than her. She was an outcast in her own family.

“You are angry right now. I get it.” Beck sounded sympathetic, but he gave a small laugh. “Come on. Your dad’s an idiot. Don’t let him get to you.”

How dare he tell her how to feel! Jami yanked her hand away and narrowly missed his chin with her flying fist. “You self-righteous jackass!”

Beck lurched back, and his understanding expression dissolved.

“Temper temper.” Beck’s eyebrows shot up, and his mouth twisted into a sarcastic half-smile. “Let’s not spoil the wedding.” His tone was like arctic ice cracking.

“You’re right.” Jami’s nails dug into the flesh of her palms and pressure built in her chest. “I need to behave like a demure lady, don’t I?”

Jami took a full breath as she studied the bubbling, frothing water of the hot tub. Her brain churned. She needed to wipe that smug look right off Beck’s face.

She stepped back and then plunged forward with her shoulder, and sideswiped him. Those dark gray eyes of his flashed surprise and dismay.

Beck grunted, swung one arm out for balance, and then he shrugged and plunged into the steaming pool. A plume of water shot into the air and then sloshed onto the deck. Beck surfaced with water streaming down his face, his hair in devilish disarray, and his golden shirt, sodden and dark, and clinging to his corded muscles.

“Have a lovely evening.” Jami saluted him and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you at Sunday supper next week.” Beck smirked as he lifted that square chin of his and ran his fingers through his hair and wiped the excess water from his eyes.

“I won’t—” Jami stopped. What would she do? Skip family dinners for the rest of her life? Dammit. She’d think of something.

“A girl can always hope your plane crashes.” Jami turned on her heel and flew across the patio and darted down the first path she encountered.

Her tears shriveled at the corner of her eyes, and the delicate frangipani blossoms in front of her became a blur of orangey-red.

It was like déjà vu. She’d thrown herself at a complete jerk of a man, and now she had to deal with the fallout. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she marveled that it wasn’t strewn on the ground in tattered shreds.

Jami slipped her high heeled sandals off, clutched them in one hand, and in one fluid movement, pelted at full speed down to the far side of the bay, with the tiny pea gravel cutting into the tender flesh of her feet.

As she passed the snug hammock of her tryst with Beck, she stared straight ahead. She refused to think of him.

Beck’s tender mouth and his gentle, sure touch that had lifted her to dizzying heights. No. She’d lost the race. She’d singled out another dud of a guy.

Jami reached a small spit of land at the tip of the island with barely enough sand for two chairs. She sank into one and let the high tide slip and roll over her bare feet. The hem of her dress drooped into the surf, but she didn’t care.

It was simple. She’d failed at everything. Family. Business. And now, once again, at men.

Chapter 19

Beck folded the newspaper and tucked it into the seatback in front of him. It was two-day-old news, and it failed to distract him. As passengers tromped past him in the aisleway, Beck kept his fingers crossed that he’d have his row all to himself, at least for the short hop from St. Lucia to Bridgetown. It was a long flight back to Los Angeles, and he’d take any extra elbow room that he could.

He stared out the window as the bags loaded into the cargo bay, but all he could see was the stricken look on Jami’s face last night. Why had he pushed her? Jami’s expression had gone from sorrow to fury in about a picosecond. At her first sharp word, he’d been stung, and just had to go and rub it in. She’d been beaten, and he’d been an ass and made her swim in the muck.

It was clear that the deal had meant securing Teddy’s approval, but Beck doubted that would ever happen. Teddy was a cold customer. He’d dangle the carrot of his affection in front of Jami and then hit her over the head whenever he didn’t get what he wanted.

He wished he could take back his harsh words. She’d been hurt and furious. Hell, she’d tackled him and dumped him into the hot tub. A grin split across his face, and a passing traveler shot him a half-smile with a confused look.

Beck pulled his phone out of the front pocket of his shirt, regarded it, and shoved it back in his pocket. He shifted restlessly. He was going to have to apologize, but then what?

They’d had an island fling, and now it was a thing of the past. She’d been vulnerable and wounded, and he’d been a douche-canoe.

It was just more proof that he wasn’t good at relationships. Somehow he’d gotten both of his parents’ bad marital genes. His dad had plain given up on marriage after Fiona had epically cheated on him. And Fiona might be a serial marriage junkie, but she sure didn’t have a clue how to maintain a long and healthy relationship. Hell, her children barely tolerated her.

The deck was stacked against him. He’d be better off forgetting about Jami. He sure didn’t need a wife to make him feel complete. He was fine solo. It was substantially less complicated.

Beck closed his eyes and laid his head on the seatback. He was ready to be home, and get moving forward on relocating his business. Damn. That meant more of Jami.

“Is this seat taken?” a laughing voice asked.

Beck turned from the window. Kyle Barrett stowed a backpack in the luggage compartment and slipped into the seat next to Beck.

“I didn’t know you were on this early flight, too.” Beck pulled his earbuds out with a grin.

“First chance possible.” Kyle rolled his eyes. “I snagged the earliest water taxi from Santa Tarita to St. Lucia and wandered the town for an hour. I needed a change of scenery.”

“Weddings aren’t my thing either.”

“That’s funny since I’m guessing you’ve been to a fair number of them.”

Beck groaned. “You can only mean Fiona.”

“Did I hear right that she’s had seven husbands?”

“I lost track.”

“You’re the smart one to stay out of it.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t think either one of us thinks marriage is worth a damn. Just look at our parents.”

“We’ve had a week of them, haven’t we?”

“I’ve been avoiding my dad the whole time. I’ve got news he’s not going to like, especially since he’s grumpier than shit about losing the Anderton property to you.”

“What’s your news?”

“I got accepted as a late entry engineer student at Berkeley. I’m the number one mechanic at the moment, and Dad is going to flip his lid that I’m leaving at the end of the summer.”

“Why would he be angry? You’re building a whole new career with lots of potential.”

“You’ve got a lot to learn about Teddy Barrett. He only thinks in terms of what’s good for the business. He won’t want to lose a mechanic and one that he thinks he can manipulate. He seems to think I want to run the company one day, so he tries to play me and Austin off each other.”

“Austin is a corporate attorney for a tech firm, right?”

“Exactly. But Dad can’t see that Austin is happy.”

Beck chewed over Teddy’s behaviors. He tried to control people, but they kept running from his selfishness. Poor Jami. She was entangled in his web, too. “Is there anything wrong with Barrett Logistics?”

“Trucking is fine, if challenging, but we all have other interests. Besides, I don’t think any of us want to work too closely with Dad for fear of losing our heads and our dignity. You probably didn’t notice it, but he was ruthless with Jami last night.”

“I thought he’d ignored her.”

“You must have missed the fireworks.” Kyle whistled under his breath and mimicked an explosion with his fingers. “It was pretty late, and he ran into her outside of the piano bar. He laid into her, and practically disowned her. Man, the bartender even came out to see if she was getting physically threatened.”

Beck’s blood boiled. “It wasn’t her fault that BKI won the deal. With a special federal grant on our side and the promise of bringing four times as many jobs into the area, of course the commissioners ruled in our favor.”

“It makes total sense to me, but Jami and Dad were so blinded by winning for the company. Jami looked really shaken by Dad’s fury. He’d better watch out, or none of his kids will be talking to him.”

Beck kept his mouth shut. It was not his place to interfere or comment. The plane accelerated down the runway, the wheels left the ground, and Beck left the islands behind him.

It was complicated, no matter how he tried to spin it. There wouldn’t be any chummy family dinners with the Barretts. He’d be lucky if Teddy didn’t have him blackballed in the tight-knit community. Barrett Ridge was a far cry from a booming metropolis like Los Angeles. There’d be no avoiding the Barretts.

A sinking sensation of a shot dropping into a beer stein hit his gut. He was going to have to smooth things over with Jami. But what was his end game? Jami wasn’t a woman to trifle with. He was either all in or nothing.

Beck glanced at Kyle who had plugged in his headphones and was watching a movie on his phone now that the plane had reached cruising altitude. Beck stared out the small, oval window at the turquoise seas below.

Teddy Barrett might not see his own daughter’s worth, but Beck sure did. Jami was worth twenty of Teddy. She was a prize. Someone would be lucky to have her in his life. Beck’s pulse accelerated. Maybe he knew exactly who.

Beck fiddled with the shade and pulled it low so that no glare hit Kyle’s screen, and then he closed his eyes. It was a long ride back to LAX, and he had a lot of plans to formulate...between relocation, and perhaps laying the foundation for a fresh start with a sexy real estate agent.

Chapter 20

Jami snagged a pint-sized bag of chips and an iced tea and ducked up the back stairs to her second-floor patio. With a floppy hat and a pair of sunglasses to hide behind, she nestled into the cushioned rattan chair and ottoman. She nibbled a chip and eyed the thick romance novel on the side table.

She wrinkled her nose. Romance was the problem, not the solution.

“Is that you up there?” Sam called up to her from her lanai below.

“Come join me.”

“Let’s go swim.”

“No. I’m noshing on junk food.”

“Are you still smarting from last night?” Sam paused.

Jami stuffed a chip in her mouth. “I’m fine.” Yeah, she was still licking her wounds. Between Beck and her dad, she was surprised she hadn’t bled out last night.

Sam grunted. “Dad’s a complete bastard.”

That was true enough. Jami tossed the chips on the table. “If you come up, I’ll share with you.”

“Deal.”

Within minutes, Sam bustled into Jami’s suite with a tray stacked high in succulent fruits, savory cheeses, salty olives, crunchy crackers, and a pitcher filled with a bubbly, fruity berry beverage.

Jami waved the lone bag of chips, and Sam laughed. “I knew I’d better bring some reinforcements.”

“I think I only have five chips left to share. Where did you get all that?”

“I’ve been sweet-talking one of the staff, and I got a cool tray of stuff delivered last night, and I ordered up this white wine sangria thingie on my way here.”

Jami wondered if Sam had been the smarter one. While she’d been making out with her rotten rival, Sam had at least been scoring scrumptious food.

“I’ll set us up outside, and you can find some glasses. You look like you need a drink.” Sam smiled widely, and Jami’s gloomy attitude lifted a notch.

Jami hunted and found two clean tumblers in the cabinet next to the mini-refrigerator and strolled out to the balcony while waving them in the air. “I’ve saved the day.”

Sam poured a generous portion of the wine and ginger ale spiked with blueberries, strawberries, and some melon chunks. “I’m dying of thirst, and this is amazing. It’s barely alcoholic. I think the staff knows we’ve all just about pickled our livers at this point.”

Jami laughed and knocked back a healthy swig.

“Do you want to talk?” Sam squinted at Jami’s half-empty glass. “The last time I saw that expression on your face was right after Eric’s mother called to break up with you. It’s more than just Dad, isn’t it? You’re in the middle of man troubles again.”

“There’s absolutely nothing going on.” Jami studied her glass. “I’m tired and didn’t sleep well after Dad’s butt chewing.”

“Whatever. Deny it ‘til the steel drum band quits playing, but I know you and that expression.” Sam popped a pair of olives in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I’ve done the math, and I’m guessing you’re flirting with Beck.”

“Um. No.”

“Liar. I saw you come out of his bungalow at dawn yesterday. I don’t think you two were playing cards.”

Jami flushed. “I’m totally busted.” The tension knot in her belly loosened, and she could almost breathe.

“You lucky thing.” Sam sighed. “You were smiling and looked completely relaxed. You were in la-la land. You’d so been laid. I’m jealous.”

“Is it totally gross that I slept with our brother-in-law?” Jami studied Sam and was relieved to see that her sister wasn’t judging her.

“No. He’s hot. Besides, he’s totally unrelated. Can you even call your sibling’s spouse’s family your in-laws?” Sam plucked a handful of grapes and popped one in her mouth. “It’s way too complicated. He’s just a dude.”

“He’s the guy who’s ruining our family’s business.” Jami frowned and the knot squeezed tight.

“Don’t be so dramatic. Dad can live without expanding the business. No one’s going belly-up.”

“Easy for you to say since it’s not your deal that fell apart. I look like a loser.”

“How can you say that?” Sam was indignant. “You win at everything. You turn setbacks into victories. You know what your problem is?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“First off, you let Dad manipulate you.” Sam wagged a finger at Jami. “Second, you’re a big chicken.”

“I’m not a coward.” Jami glared and swatted Sam’s hand away. “Since when have I run away from a challenge? I seek them out.”

“I’m not talking about your real estate deals, or all your races, or your status as the tennis champion of Barrett Ridge.”

“What else is there?”

“You’ve only once taken a chance on love.” Sam lowered her voice and looked intently at Jami. “I’ve had a never-ending stream of boyfriends, and I think I’m in love each and every time.”

“That’s so not appealing.” Jami grimaced. “Don’t take this wrong, but the idea nauseates me.”

“See? That’s way too risky for you.” Sam nodded knowingly.

“So what’s your point?”

“Eric.”

“He’s ancient history.”

“That’s true, but I think you’ve given up.”

“One strike and I’m out?”

“Did he ever apologize to you?”

“He hemmed and hawed, but never said he was sorry for being such an arrogant ass. He mostly tried to put the blame on me.”

“That’s pathetic. Exactly how was it your fault that he couldn’t keep his pecker in his pants?”

“It doesn’t matter. He was not the one for me. I don’t love him, and I really don’t much think about him anymore.”

“Thank goodness you didn’t end up marrying him.”

“I’m relieved, too. But I’m wondering if marriage is even my thing. I did such a bad job picking Eric.”

“You win some. You lose some.”

“I don’t think I want to play the game. It’s too painful to lose.”

“We all pick losers from time to time, but that’s no reason to quit trying.”

“Did I ever tell you that Eric and I had started talking about having kids?”

“That’s a normal conversation to have with your fiancé.”

“I was the one doing all the talking, and he wanted nothing to do with it.”

“Do you want kids?”

“I thought I did, but Eric sure didn’t. At least not with me.”

“Omigod. He’s totally having twins now. That’s hilarious.”

“I’m not jealous or anything, but it does make me feel like crap. What’s wrong with me that he didn’t want to make babies with me, but some bimbo he picked up at a strip club is good enough to be the mother of his children?” Jami’s anger melted into a trickle of tears, but she scrubbed them off her cheeks.

“Oh, Jami. I didn’t know you felt that way. Eric is a total tool. None of us liked him. Would you believe that he made a pass at me during that school fundraiser three weeks ago? Isn’t that gross? His wife is pregnant, and he’s hitting on anything in a skirt.”

“I know I don’t need a turd like him.”

“Are you still in love with him?”

“No, but it still hurts that I failed.”

“How can you call it a failure if you avoid the colossal mistake of marrying a two-timing ass-hat?”

“When you put it that way, it does sound like I drew the winning hand.”

“Exactly.”

“But, I was going to go through with the wedding, even though we were fighting.”

“You were too scared to dump him.” Sam poured a fresh splash into Jami’s empty glass. “You couldn’t admit he was a loser because that would mean you’d made a bad decision.”

“I suck at love.”

“Tough. I stink at sports. Get over it.”

“How?”

“Just like in sports. You get ready for the next race or competition. I’ve never seen you give up just because you pulled a muscle and couldn’t finish a 10k.”

“That’s true.” Jami didn’t sound convinced, even to herself.

“Love is the same.” Sam laughed. “Break out a dating app or get me to set you up on a blind date. Whether it’s Beck or some other guy, get back in the game. Of course, I think Beck’s a good choice.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“It is.”

“But what if I get hurt again?”

“It’s not if, it’s when. You can’t guard your emotions or wall them off forever.”

“I don’t know. It’s so risky.”

“You’ve always been that way, but Mom was always great at bringing you out of your shell.”

“I still miss her.”

“Every day.” Sam stared out at the palm trees. Her smile faded. “I wonder if that’s part of why you’re so closed off?”

“You make me sound like some special needs case.”

“We all need some sort of therapy, but you’ve never been a big one for wearing your emotions on your sleeve or opening yourself up to get hurt. You have a big social network, but only a handful of close friends.”

“It’s not a crime.”

“No, but I think I’m onto something. You threw caution to the wind and dated stupid old Eric, but that went sour. Now, you’re gun shy.”

“I’ve been on a date or two since the Eric disaster.”

“Really?”

“I had coffee with Jay Dunning.”

Sam choked. “He’s over fifty years old and has grandchildren in my class.”

“Got ya!”

“All I’m saying is that you try too hard to protect yourself, but at least you’ve ventured out and had a fling with Beck.”

“He’s probably another Eric.”

“Give him a chance.”

“I’m sick to my stomach.” Jami shifted to one hip and pulled her knees up to her chest. “I have a crush on the man who’s wrecking our family business.”

“Even Austin said there will be other opportunities.” Sam scrunched her nose and shook her head. “It’s not the end of the world. You need to let Dad run his business and not get drawn into his web. He’ll twist you up in knots. Every. Single. Time.”

“I hate losing.” Jami’s voice was soft.

“Pride goeth before the fall.”

“I think it already has.” Jami folded her hands across her knees and rested her chin on them. “I may have to chalk this up to experience and move on.”

“Don’t sell yourself short with Beck. Besides, he’s going to be around town a lot. Don’t give up without at least competing in the game.”

“I lost the match. Love zip.”

“Will Thanksgiving be awkward?” Sam laughed heartlessly.

“Shut up.”

Sam patted Jami’s arm and stood. “Let’s go swim. Today’s our last day, and we need to snag a few more rays of sunshine before we head home.”

Jami gave Sam a lopsided smile. “I’ll join you in ten minutes.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting at the stairs.” Before she closed the door behind her, Sam turned and squinted at Jami as if daring her to be late.

“Don’t worry. See? I’m up and getting my swimsuit.”

The door closed, and Jami stared into the mirror over the dresser. Sam was right. She needed to let go. She was worried that one defeat would prove to everyone that she was a failure. She had a reputation of a tough competitor, but deep down, she was afraid she was a fraud.

It was easy to compete in a triathlon. She knew the rules. But when it came to love, she didn’t know the first thing. Her father played games and kept her second guessing her worth.

With a last glance in the mirror, Jami bent and rummaged through the dresser drawer for a bikini. She held up a scarlet string bikini top, and she quivered. She closed her eyes, and she was back at the waterfall pool. Beck’s hands caressed her neck as he tied her top for her. Heat flowered between her legs, and she hugged the fabric to her breast.

Could she have some kind of relationship with Beck? Hell, like it or not, he was part of the family now, and living in Barrett Ridge in the not too far future. She should offer to show him houses to buy. She huffed. Ridiculous.

Well, what was she going to do? She could skulk in the corner and lick her wounds. She could pretend that none of it happened. That sounded promising, but she had a sneaking suspicion that as soon as Beck was within about ten feet of her, her libido would spring to life and she’d be at risk of jumping him and mauling him like a tiger on a hunk of meat.

She’d been the one to chase him off. A dreary depression settled over her. She supposed Sam was right. She hadn’t wanted to risk getting hurt, so she’d told him off. Of course, her ego was bruised that she’d lost a real estate deal, but that was a temporary reversal of fortune. A deal gone sour never scuttled her ship. No, she’d find something else for Dad. Hell, it’d be better, and she’d do it for her own pride, not give a damn what her father thought.

Was Beck worth taking a risk on? He was funny. He was adorable with her young siblings. Jami tossed the crimson fabric onto the bed and paced the length of the room.

Beck was ridiculously charming and sexy with those smoky gray eyes and those endless abs. Not to mention his tender, but smoldering touch. He’d put her needs first, and made her feel like the most precious thing on earth.

She stared out the window. Dang it. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she’d fallen head over heels with Beck. Jami groaned.

Sam was right; she was too wary to take a risk on love again.

Chapter 21

Jami clicked her headset off and stared out her office window with her mouth drooping open. She blushed with the praise still buzzing in her ears. Her leg jiggled, and her hands fluttered in her lap. She laughed at her faint reflection in the window and scooped up her loose hair and twisted it into a knot at the nape of her neck.

What a difference one month made. Well, her dad was going to be pleased. She’d just finished talking with Bert Peterson, and he’d wanted no one other than her to handle selling his farm. His three-hundred-acre parcel was already zoned appropriately, and it conveniently shared a property line with the Barretts’.

She’d listened to Bert praising her to the skies for all the help she extended to his family over the years. From baking casseroles when his wife was sick from chemo treatments to assisting each of his children in finding a perfect starter home and the right financing.

Jami slumped back in her chair. After all of the horrible things her father had thrown at her, here was a family friend who thought the world of her. And that her kindness and her ability to do a good job had brought about the exact type of deal that would please her father.

She toyed with never telling him about it but dismissed the idea. That wouldn’t be in Bert’s best interests, and besides, it would be bad karma. There was no use in being petty.

With a push of her foot, Jami twirled a half-circle and stopped facing the front door. It looked like she had a customer. A slick, sapphire blue motorcycle careened into the parking lot, and a tall man in black riding leathers swung his leg over the seat and dismounted. His broad shoulders and narrow hips were eye-catching and familiar.

As he took off his helmet and rubbed a hand through his hair, Jami choked on her iced tea. It was Beck. She slapped the cup on her desk and jumped to her feet. She smoothed out a wrinkle in her black pencil skirt and tugged on her blouse.

She closed her eyes and inhaled. Dammit. She was flustered for no reason. Of course Beck was going to show up. He’d bought property, and he wasn’t likely to be an absentee owner. But it had been over a month since Anna’s wedding...and their fight.

He strolled through the door and paused at the empty reception desk. He unzipped his jacket and shrugged out of it in one fluid motion. Jami swallowed and dropped the pen on the floor. She fought the urge to pretend it hadn’t happened, but as Beck’s gaze flicked down to her feet, she relented and snatched it into her clenched fist.

She cleared her throat. “How may I help you?” She rose but maintained the desk as a barrier between them.

A slow, wicked smile creased Beck’s mouth as if he was ready for her game. “I’m in the market for a new home.” He moved in front of her desk and draped his jacket over a chair. “I heard that you were the best real estate agent in town.”

“I’m not taking on new clients.” She crossed her arms. “Perhaps you should try Garrett LaRue. He’s on Third Street downtown.”

“I need you.” Beck rested his palms on her desk and leaned forward.

“Go away.” Jami’s breath caught, but she held her ground.

“Let’s start all over.” Beck took one step back. “I’m Beckham Kavanagh. Your sister is my brother’s wife, and I’m the newest business in town.” He moved around the spare chair to the side of her desk. “I think your family’s business and mine share a property line.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jami’s pulse ticked at an impossible rate as she stepped backward and bumped into the windowsill.

“I’m serious.” Beck was right next to her. “Now this is the part where you shake my hand and introduce yourself.”

“I’m Jami—Jami Barrett.” She dutifully slid her hand into his for a quick shake, but Beck held tight. She quivered.

“See? We can be friendly.”

“Don’t tease me.” Jami’s cheeks colored up, and she pulled away. Beck released her hand but maintained his stance.

“I owe you an apology.”

“Don’t start being nice.” Jami tried to scowl, but only managed to nibble on her lip.

“I am a nice guy. Mostly.”

“Fine. Now go back to your side of the desk. You’re much too close.”

Beck grinned, but retreated around the table and sat. Jami backed into her chair and slid down gratefully. She didn’t think her knees would support her much longer.

“I’m sorry for what happened after the wedding.” Beck’s voice was gentle.

“Sorry that I lost my temper and shoved you in the hot tub?”

Beck laughed. “I deserved it.”

Her breath quickened. “You kind of did.” Why was he being so understanding? He should hate her for dumping him into the hot tub.

“You were hurting, and I made it worse.”

“True, but I wasn’t very nice either.” She fidgeted with the pen, but then set it down, and folded her hands carefully on the desktop.

“You were sulking.”

Jami glared. “I thought you were apologizing? Don’t make it worse.” It was true, but he didn’t have to say it.

“I met this wonderful, funny, competitive, sexy-as-hell woman at a family wedding.” He leaned forward, and his hands were inches from hers. “Do you happen to know where she went? I miss her.”

Jami flushed. Was he mocking her?

He raised her hand and turned her wrist to his mouth. With the softest of touches, Beck pressed his lips to her skin. Sensation zinged up her arm and pierced her heart.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Dammit, I’m sick of you being angry with me. I haven’t ruined your family’s business. You lost a real estate deal. Move on.”

“Thank you for that advice.” She tried to wriggle out of his grip, but Beck held firm. The heat of touch scorched her flesh. “As a matter of fact, I’ve already secured a neighboring property that will be even better for Barrett Trucking.”

Once the words slipped past her lips, a fist of tension in her chest dissolved. She was capable and resilient. She had been down, but she’d dusted herself off and jumped back in the game. With her own skills and good timing, she’d secured a parcel of land for her father and turned a disappointment into a triumph.

Sam was right after all. She wasn’t a quitter. She could take a risk on love, and she might even win it all.

Beck studied her face and relief played across his face. “Good. I was beginning to think your hostility was going to ruin Christmas.”

“Please. You are so not invited.” Jami tried to scowl but scrunched her nose as laughter built in her belly.

“But we’re all one big happy family.” Beck smirked, but his eyes were merry. “Even Austin thinks I’m a good addition to the family.”

“You bribed him. With a beer. I saw you.” Jami tried to sound indignant, but a burble of laughter escaped between her lips.

“Guilty as charged.” Beck planted a second kiss on her other wrist, and longing burned its way through her core.

“You could go to jail for such deceitful behavior.”

“Cuff me.”

“You’d like that way too much.”

“The rough stuff with you, now that has me thinking.” Beck released her and in a quick movement was next to her and drew her up.

“Be serious.” Jami stood, inches from Beck. She twitched to run her fingers through his hair. She wanted so desperately to stay mad at him, but if he didn’t kiss her soon, she was going to explode.

Beck stroked her cheek. “I think I can’t live without you. I need you.”

“Is this the start of a negotiation?” Jami trembled as emotion surged through her veins.

“It is.” Beck wrapped his arms around her waist and hiked her up into his lap. “What do you think of my opening bid?”

Jami wiggled her hips and shivered as his arousal rubbed against her suddenly damp panties. She slid her tongue along her lower lip and resisted arching her back in response. “It’s promising. You seem to be a man of action. What else do you have to offer?”

Beck traced a line of slow, hot kisses down the column of Jami’s neck with his tongue tickling and teasing, finally pulling a reluctant, low moan from her.

“Will that be a point in my favor?”

“I will concede that you drive a hard bargain.”

Beck chuckled and rained kisses down the other side of her neck, along the delicate skin of her collarbone, and then to the top of the valley between her breasts. “I will claim you as mine.”

Jami ground into him and thrust her breasts close to his mouth. “Who is claiming whom?” She ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed a thumb across his lower lip. She let him suck her finger into his mouth for a moment before she languorously pulled it out and then slipped it between her smiling lips. “How do you like my negotiating techniques?”

“I’ve met my match.”

“I like the sounds of that. Equals.”

“That’s the best deal I’ve ever made, and to think it’s just dumb luck.”

“Who are you calling stupid?”

“No one, my beautiful, sexy, brilliant woman. You are my equal in every way.” Beck took her hands into his, kissed the back of each hand, then her palms, and then a lingering touch of the lips on each wrist. “You know it was a mere coin toss that led me to pick Barrett Ridge?”

“A fifty-fifty bet, huh? What other poor schmuck of a town almost bore the wrath of Beck Kavanagh?”

“I’m not telling. You’ll have to tease it out of me.”

“With kisses?”

“That won’t do it. You’ll have to try more advanced methods.”

Jami smirked and tugged on his belt and buckle. “We’d better lock the door.”

“And pull the blinds?”

“No need. There’s a couch upstairs for naps.”

“That’s convenient, but I’m afraid you won’t be sleeping.”

Jami grabbed Beck by the hand and led him up the staircase. “I’m feeling a little reckless. Maybe I’ll skip my afternoon nap.”

“Is that a dare?”

“I like the sound of that. A new competition. What are the stakes?”

Beck laughed, and his low, rumbly chuckled filled the small attic space. “You hold my heart in the balance.”

Jami turned, and Beck crushed her into his arms. The world spun, and sound roared in Jami’s ears. He kissed her until her lips throbbed and she ached with need.

“We’re two of a kind. I need you, and I’ve fallen head over heels in love with you.”

Jami froze and stared at Beck.

“Don’t look so surprised. I think you are perfection, and I’m not letting you get away from me again.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

“That sounds divine.” Jami rained a shower of kisses on his lips.

“Not to be pushy, but I think this is where you add the part about your feelings?” Beck cradled her in his arms.

Jami snuggled close and hoped she wasn’t actually purring.

“You are too competitive. You are too bossy. You are too sexy. And I’m deliciously addicted to you.”

“Right back at ya.” Beck pushed her back onto the sofa and tore his shirt off over his head. Jami wriggled the buttons loose on her blouse as Beck lowered himself onto her. She twined a leg through his as he propped himself up on one arm.

“I think it’s my turn to straddle you.”

“You won’t get any complaints from me.”

With much wriggling and giggles, Jami twisted on top of Beck and managed to lose her bra in the battle.

“Come here, you sweet thing.”

“I think I could love a man who calls me that.”

“Done. The deal is sealed.”

Beck held her close, their lips met, and Jami whispered, “I love you.”

Acknowledgments

Thank you so much to Kerry Genova for her crack proofreading skills, to Ansley Blackstock, for her wonderful editorial input, and to Valerie Tibbs of Tibbs Design for a sexy and sassy cover. You guys are awesome!

As a quick aside, I want to let my readers know that I have only a smidgeon of knowledge about zoning laws and county commissions. Therefore, any errors or oddities that I’ve created in Beck and Jami’s battle over property and zoning are solely my mistakes.

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LAST RESORT LOVE

One daring whim leads to a whole lotta smokin’ hot temptation…

Bad luck be gone…Krissa Courtland whispers her vow and stabs a pin in the map. No more cheating exes or downsized jobs. With fingers crossed, she lands in Colorado, but right off, a storm flattens her dream cabin. But disaster turns delicious when smoking-hot Nick Olin saves the day. And now Vail’s sexiest resort developer is her landlord and next-door neighbor.

Nick’s silky brown curls and teasing smile are tempting, but Krissa can’t shake the ache in her soul and won’t trust in love. Too bad for Krissa, Nick has other ideas. With her luscious curves and vulnerable amber eyes, Nick is oh-so distracted from his empire building. Every time Nick makes a move, Krissa bolts. Can Nick prove he’s trustworthy and just the man to heal her heart? Or will Krissa run out on her chance at love?

Books by Holly Cortelyou

Wescott Springs series

Last Resort Love

Last Sweet Surrender

Kiss Me at Last

Kiss Me, Trouble

(in the Second Time’s the Charm boxed set)

Timber Falls series

One Magic Kiss

Barret Ridge series

Two Reckless Hearts

(in the Tropical Tryst boxed set)

From Holly

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Thank You!

Holly Cortelyou

…Always Dare to Love!

About the Author

Holly Cortelyou is a romance author who pens sweet and spicy small town, contemporary romances as well as supernatural and paranormal historical romances.

On any given day, Holly can be found sipping coffee and surfing Facebook for gossip on royals, college football (Go Ducks!), knitting, and ghosts!

After trying on many hats as a meeting planner, political scientist, long-haul trucker, and financial services specialist, she’s finally found the perfect fit as a romance writer!

Holly’s living her own Happily Ever After with an uber-handy and sexily broad-shouldered husband, and a fluffball kitty in sun-kissed Southern Oregon…and an exuberant lab puppy who rules our hearts!

She has hazel eyes and a goofy sense of humor…all the rest is subject to change without notice.

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Happy Reading!

His Diamond in the Rough

A Billionaire Tropical Romance

Roxy Sinclaire and Zara Zenia

Samantha was on the verge of being kicked out of her apartment near her college not having enough for rent. But she just won a prize that she can’t sell—a non-transferable vacation to the exclusive resort of Diamond Cove in one of the Caribbean islands.

She decides to go but she can’t relax during the first few days since she’s constantly worrying about her life. But then she finds a platinum and diamond studded money club filled with more cash than she’s ever seen in her life.

Lord Eric Godfrey, a British billionaire, playboy, and of royalty, came to unwind after a brutal breakup with his fiancé. He decides to forget about women and just relax, only to find his money clip go missing. He is intrigued by the woman who turns it in, Samantha, but he wonders how she got it. Or why she didn’t turn it in right away.

Both are attracted to each other but suspicious as well. Eric doesn’t trust the poor, especially if he thinks someone is a gold digger. Samantha doesn’t trust the rich and powerful.

But will they be able to put that all behind them and accept one another? Or will more accusations and hate come out of it?

His Diamond In The Rough is a standalone romance novella. There is NO cheating, NO cliffhanger, and a guaranteed happy ending!

Cover by EmCat Designs

Edited by Teresa Banschbach

Chapter 1

Samantha

The sleek, white catamaran sliced through the azure water as the sun sparkled off the waves folding away from in front of the boat. I leaned against the railing, and small droplets of sea water splashed across my face, cooling my warming cheeks.

I was just off the coast of Bridgetown, Barbados, on a ferry boat with only ten other passengers, headed towards Diamond Cove, one of the most exclusive private island resorts in the entire world. But it wasn’t not where I should have been. I should have been back home in Chicago, looking for a second job, selling my eggs, or looking for escort services to work for. I was so broke I couldn’t even afford ramen noodles.

Yet here I was, off to spend two luxurious weeks on the playground of the world’s richest and most famous. I must have been crazy to accept this trip. It had been a joke, really, entering the contest for a two-week, all expenses paid vacation to Diamond Cove. I just figured t the company who sponsored the contest used all those entry forms to collect addresses and phone numbers for sales pitches, but it had been fun to imagine winning. I’d been in downtown Chicago with friends at a deep-dish pizza joint, and the big fishbowl with the white slips of paper inside propped next to the cash register, a printed beach scene taped to the front. We’d giggled, fuzzy with cheap wine, and dropped our entry slips into the bowl, then promptly forgot about the contest. Three days later a bored intern with a local luxury car dealer called me and informed me I was their grand prize winner.

My immediate thought was to sell the trip. It was worth almost twenty-thousand dollars. I’d read over the paperwork and was giddy with the thought of selling the trip for about ten grand. I knew I’d be able to get at least that much, maybe more. It was December in Chicago and the weather was frigid. Everyone with the means to was ditching Illinois for a more southerly climate as soon as they could. And this was a luxury vacation at one of the most sought after resorts in the world. Exclusive didn’t even begin to describe it. I figured I was going to be able to pay my tuition and cover my books for the next year with what I could get for the trip.

But there, crammed onto the bottom of the paperwork in the smallest print I’d ever seen, was the word that dashed all my paid tuition hopes. Non-transferable.

Here I was, with my discount store sandals and thrift-store designer purse, on a ferry boat with the kind of people I’d only ever served drinks and appetizers to. I leaned further over the ferry’s rails and spotted a school of silver dolphins keeping pace with the boat. It was almost too perfect to be real. The warmth of the sun was tempered by the cool breezes off the ocean, a dolphin family frolicked nearby, and waitresses with exotic eyes and soft, lilting voices offered glasses of freshly squeezed fruit juices and local rums. This was not real life. Well, this was not my real life.

I turned, taking in my fellow ferry riders. Everyone looked…expensive. There was a young family with two small children, all with matching blonde hair, brightly embroidered shorts, and a nanny, who was also wearing embroidered shorts to match her charges. Two middle-aged couples, obviously, acquaintances, were catching up with each over their cocktail glasses. The husbands haw-hawed and back-slapped each other while the wives sucked in their Pilates-toned stomachs and gave each other thin-lipped smiles while their designer sunglasses hid what their eyes really thought about the other. The final passenger was a girl who looked close to my age. Her hair was that perfect platinum blonde that required salon visits every three weeks to maintain and I’m sure the tags inside her artfully draped sundress sported the name of a designer I’d only ever seen on the cover Vogue. She had one slim, bronzed leg propped on the bottom rail of the onboard bar as she cooed at the bartender and ran a manicured finger down the front of his shirt.

I sighed and turned back to the ocean view, losing myself in my own thoughts. These were exactly the kind of people I tried to avoid. The wealthy, the well-to-do, the one percent. I don’t care what you called them, I didn’t want anything to do with them. I considered myself to be an intelligent girl, I was supposed to graduate from the University of Chicago with a degree in business administration, but I couldn’t figure out what good wealthy people actually did for anyone other than themselves. I read the news and all I saw was my nation’s most well-off citizens taking advantage of tax laws that leave them paying little and shifting the country’s financial burdens onto the least of its citizens. Pay-to-play politics, tax breaks, federal bailouts, people famous for being famous, never mind the thousands, tens of thousands, who went without food, medicine, and proper homes in the most prosperous country in the world; it was enough to make my blood boil. I had no use for the elite. But I’d agreed to sequester myself on an island with the most elite in the world for two weeks. Chicago winters must have frozen my brain cells. I snorted my disgust and went back to watching the capering dolphins.

It wasn’t much longer before a lush, green strip of land rose out of the sapphire blue waters. It was ringed with the whitest sand I’d ever seen, so purely white it glittered. The boat slipped through the waves, the colors changing from sapphire to azure to lightest cyan as we headed towards a small a cove with a dock that extended out into the waters. I looked over the edge and realized I could see all the way to the bottom of the ocean where colorful fish darted away from the ferry. A trio of smiling dockhands was waiting for the ferry to pull alongside. They helped guide the boat in, swiftly mooring the ferry and setting the bow. Like everything else on the trip, it happened quickly, smoothly, and without any inconvenience to the guests.

We disembarked, leaving the bags to the dockhands, and headed down the dock towards a row of Jeeps, each with a driver, waiting for us on the white-shelled road. The young family bundled their kids into a jeep with the nanny and took another for themselves, giggling and nuzzling at one another in the backseat. The two middle-aged couples each settled into their vehicles, the wives still sipping at the cocktail glasses they’d brought from the ferry. I took the last Jeep in line, the driver jumping out to help me up into the seat. I looked around for the blonde-haired girl and saw her struggling down the dock with a heavy designer suitcase bumping along behind her. Before I could offer to share the jeep with her, we took off down the road, the tires crunched over the shell and the salt-tinged wind tangled in my ponytail.

In less than five minutes, we were pulling up to the front of the resort. The entire island seemed to be made of shades of blue, green, and white with bright splashes of pink and red flowers sprinkled in. The resort was only two stories but it had wide balconies and arched doors that welcomed the sea breezes. We drove up under a large porte-cochere that shielded us from the midday sun to find another set of smiling, welcoming faces with large trays of drinks waiting on us. Drinking, it seemed, was something of a competitive sport among the wealthy.

In no time, I was swept through an open-air marble lobby, down a cool, shaded hallway with glimpses of blue ocean and sky from each window and into my suite for the next two weeks. I expected a standard hotel room with two beds, a bathroom, and a coffee maker. Maybe a balcony. Instead, I found myself in a one-bedroom suite with a full kitchen area, exotic fruit basket included, a balcony overlooking the white sand beach and swaying palm trees, and a king-size bed made up with the softest pale blue duvet and a pile of luxurious pillows thick enough to sink a ship in. When the porter showed me the bathroom and the pool sized soaking tub, I was tempted to ask him if he was joking.

When we returned to the main room, my one lonely, shabby suitcase was sitting in the entryway. The porter rolled it into the bedroom and asked if I want someone to unpack for me. Say what? People really do that?

I politely declined, and he left me with information brochures and a spinning head.

I wandered through the rooms, trailing my fingers across everything I passed. The furniture was heavy and well-made, not an Ikea shelf in sight. The linens were silky and smooth, the towels fluffy as kittens, and everything smelled fresh and clean in a light, natural way. I’d never seen or smelled, anything like it before. I decided I had to get out of the room.

I followed the hallway down the opposite way of when I was led in and found a set of stairs spiraling down into a verdant garden, lush with greenery. I could hear splashes and laughter coming from the other side, so I followed a path through flowers heavy with scent and found a pool. The pool seemed to meet the ocean, the waters blending perfectly with each other. A fountain sprayed up from the center and a bar with a thatched roof sat at the far end. Individual cabanas lined two sides, keeping the guests safely cocooned in their own space. And for the people for whom walking was a chore on vacation, there were cocktail waiters wandering with their trays, fetching drinks and appetizers from the bar.

No sooner had I dropped onto a nearby lounge chair than one of the waiters was at my side, asking me what he could get for me.

“Just a water, please,” I said. I looked after him when he walked toward the bar, noting that there were very few guests around. Maybe fifteen people at the most. There seemed to be an employee for every guest. Across the pool, I saw the two couples from earlier, getting massages in their cabanas, tropical cocktails at their fingertips. A woman in a bikini so small it appeared to be made of nothing but strings of thread tottered past me in stiletto platforms, her throat draped in ropes of pearls, gold bangles stacked up her arms and a thin gold rope looped around her toned waist with a thumb-sized diamond charm that nestled against her belly button. I could pay my rent for two years with the jewelry this woman was casually wearing poolside.

The waiter returned and handed me a bottle of water. I cracked the top open and stopped before I took a sip, reading the label. Water infused with crystals. I couldn’t roll my eyes hard enough. I set the bottle down and stood, looking for a path away from the pool. I spotted an opening heading into a jungle-like area at the other end and made my way past the cabanas as I looked for a path. I tried to keep my eyes averted but I couldn’t help but see what I knew was a twenty-five-thousand-dollar handbag being used as a beach bag, and the thick gold watch a barrel-chested man dropped indifferently onto his chair before diving into the pool. The purely hedonistic decadence was too much for me. I burst out of the pool area and ran down the jungle path, into the cool shade of the trees before I stopped.

What was I doing here? This wasn’t the place for me. I was firmly against the type of material excess this place was rampant with and the kind of people who thought it was okay to live this way while other people starve. That handbag by the pool alone could have sustained me for a couple of years.

I wandered further down the jungle path, the air still, scented with the ocean. I thought I should go back to my suite, see if I could arrange for a ferry back to Barbados, exchange my first-class plane ticket for one in coach, and go back to Chicago. I needed to figure out a way to pay my tuition or when classes started back after winter break, I wouldn’t be in them. Coming here was a mistake.

As I turned to head back towards the pool, a glint along the edge of the path caught my attention. At first, I thought it was some sort of exotic Caribbean insect, it wouldn’t have surprised me to find out that the bugs at this resort glittered, but when I bent to inspect it, I saw the bills.

It was a money clip, platinum inlaid with a design of diamonds around the edge, and fat with bills. When I picked it up, they crinkled the way new bills do and when I flicked at the edges, they all appeared to be hundreds. My heart thudded into my throat. I looked around, trying to see if I could spot anyone who may have dropped it. I was the only person on the path.

Without thinking, I shoved the clip into the pocket of my shorts and ran back down the path, past the pool, and up the stairs to my room. I shoved through the door, making sure to lock it behind me, stumbling through to the bedroom. I dropped onto the bed and pulled the clip out of my pocket. A quick shuffle through the bills left me stunned. Fifteen thousand dollars. I found fifteen thousand dollars laying on the edge of a path in the Caribbean. Surely it was a sign.

I ruffled my fingers through the bills until the sun started to set. That money could have paid up my tuition for the year, covered my books and almost half my rent with a few dollars left over for a decent meal. It could have taken away the stress that ate at my belly every single day for the past six months. And I bet it wouldn’t even have been missed by whoever dropped. I was on an island with people who wouldn’t blink at dropping that fifteen thousand on a pair of shoes or a new purse.

But I wasn’t that kind of person. I was poor, but I was honest. I sighed heavily as I stacked the bills together neatly and slid then back into the clip. The clip alone was probably worth more than I made in a year. Maybe I could just return the money…

No. I didn’t have much, but I had my integrity. Damned, broke ass integrity. I crammed the money into my bag and headed down to the lobby to find security before I changed my mind.

Chapter 2

Eric

A tightbodied cocktail waitress in tiny white shorts sashayed toward me with another drink. The cocktail was a bright, unnatural shade of blue, the rim of the sweating glass bedecked with tropical fruits and candied cherries. It balanced in the middle of her tray like a beacon. It was almost as gorgeous as the mocha-skinned lovely carrying it.

She stopped at the entrance to my beach cabana, her shadow falling over me as I reclined on a beach chair, polishing off the last of the drink in my hand. The waitress deposited my fresh drink on a small table with a smile and gathered up the four other glasses before sashaying off again. I watched her hips sway out of sight before turning back to my drink.

I’d been in the beach cabana since sometime this morning, drinking one tropical drink after another, watching the waves lap at the glittering sand and the gulls dip into the turquoise water for their lunch. I, myself, had decided on a liquid lunch. And breakfast. And quite possibly supper as well.

There was a reason for me being half-pissed on the beach by early afternoon: the Lady Portia Thistlewaite, London socialite, heiress to Thistlewaite Manor, philanthropist, world traveler, school chum of the Princesses of York, and all-around heinous, cheating bitch. Sipping on my drink, I suddenly realized it’s the same color as Portia’s eyes. When the waitress came back I’d make sure to ask for something in a different color.

Portia, that beautiful whore. She was my fiancée. Until I walked in on her banging her gay best friend. So, yes, that actually happened. I’d known her my entire life. We grew up together, spent weekends in the country with our families, attended the same nursery school, and our fathers were best friends. It was pretty much a given that we’d marry. I don’t ever remember questioning that fact. Until I saw her with her blue-blooded ass in the air getting drilled by the guy she said was helping her pick out her wedding dress.

Now, she’s run off back to London and I was considering changing my mobile numbers. She called and called, leaving message after message, begging me to take her back. After I had my solicitor do a bit of digging, I knew why. After years of mismanagement, practically all her family had left was their name. My former precious bride-to-be was nothing but a gold-digging whore. All she wanted was the Godfrey money.

So, now I was here, at Diamond Cove. And had been for over a fortnight now. I spent my days drowning my sorrows in sickeningly sweet concoctions and my nights tossing in the king-sized bed in my king-sized luxury villa. It was a lovely little island, isolated, private, and the staff was discreet when they found you passed out face down on the beach.

I sucked my drink down to the ice and waved for the waitress again just as my phone dinged. I fished it out of my pocket and looked at the screen. Portia. I tapped the reject button, sending her call to voicemail. And, making a quick decision before I could change my mind, I blocked her number. There, done. Now I didn’t have to worry about seeing her name on my mobile screen any more. The waitress sauntered up again, white shorts hugging the curve of her hips. She gave me a sultry smile and asked if I need anything. As I ordered another drink, I couldn’t help but feel like the waitress was nothing but another version of Portia. A beautiful package hiding a black, money-grubbing heart. All women wanted was a husband to fund their shopping trips and lunches. From now on, if I wanted a woman I’d just knock out all the nonsense and go straight for a prostitute. At least it would be more honest that way.

I stumbled back toward my villa and found the door ajar. When I walked in, a cute blonde in a maid’s uniform was sitting on the sofa.

“Excuse me, aren’t you supposed to be…cleaning something?” I raised an eyebrow at her.

She huffed an exasperated sigh as she stood. “Yeah, okay. Um, like, do you need some towels or something…” her voice trailed off as she recognized me. Of course, she did, I was a regular fixture in the society pages and tabloids with Portia. When I called off our wedding, it made the front pages of all the papers.

Her attitude changed from sulky to sultry in an instant. She glided over, her blonde hair in a high, bouncy ponytail, and flicked an imaginary piece of lint from my shirt before smoothing the collar down, her fingers lingering on my neck. “Let me know if I can do anything for you,” she purred.

“Get out,” I spat at her.

“What?” She stepped back, confused. No doubt she’d never had a man reject her advances before. Neither had Portia.

“Get out and tell your supervisor to find another maid to service my rooms.”

She scrambled out the door and I slammed it behind her. I was right though, all women are the same. I decided that I’d rather eat alone than face the money-hungry females who might be stalking around the resort's restaurants, so I made a call to room service and placed my order.

When the room service attendant knocked, I opened the door to let him in. The smell of grilled steak and lobster wafted through the room and made my stomach rumble. It had been awhile since I’d had anything but alcohol. I waved the attendant towards the dining table and searched my pockets for my wallet so I could give him a tip. It wasn’t there. I checked my bedside table and the pants I’d worn the day before. Nothing.

I apologized to the attendant, promising him a double tip as soon as I located my wallet and sent him back to the kitchens. I spent the next half-hour searching the villa for my wallet. My steak and lobster were cold now and I was spitting mad. Someone had stolen my wallet. In a resort full of billionaires someone walked off with a wallet containing a mere fifteen thousand dollars.

I finally give up and placed a call to security, leaving a message on their answering service. When I finally sat down to eat, the butter had congealed and the grilled vegetables were cold. I settled for a crystal tumbler of bourbon instead.

When I woke up the next morning, I still hadn’t heard from security. Ridiculous for a place like Diamond Cove. How much crime could they possibly have on this island? I threw on some clothes and headed off to the security office to report my missing wallet and money.

Jacob Porter, head of security, ushered me into his office. He was a big man and with his shaved head he was a little more than intimidating. I’d known Jacob for several years though and he was one of the nicest men you could ever meet.

“Lord Godfrey, great to see you again,” he boomed and folded my hand into his large fist.

“Thank you, Jacob, how are those beautiful children of yours?”

“Growing like weeds. What can I do for you?” he asked.

“Well, it appears my wallet is missing. And with it, fifteen-thousand dollars.”

Jacob’s face clouded over. I knew he took pride in keeping Diamond Cove a crime-free paradise. All the employees were carefully vetted and the guests were some of the richest in the world. Theft was simply something that didn’t happen here.

“Are you sure? Perhaps I can send someone to help you search your villa again? And I can have housekeeping check the bins and laundry.” He was searching for an answer that didn’t end with a thief on the island.

“I’ve checked my rooms from top to bottom and I haven’t sent out laundry in three days. I know I had it yesterday morning.”

Jacob nodded, his face thoughtful.

“I have to ask,” I said to him, “is there anyone on the island who wouldn’t, ah, normally be here?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Just, is there anyone who…isn’t like your average Diamond Cove guest?”

“Ah,” he said as it dawned on him what I was asking. I thought I saw a faint flicker of disgust in his eyes but if there was, it was gone instantly as he slipped quickly back into his professional mode. “We have a new housekeeper, Tessa Jordan. She’s got a job here as a favor to her father. Believe me, she could definitely afford to be a guest. We also have a couple of contest winners on property at the moment.”

“Well, there you go. It must be one of them.” I was ready to locate and start questioning them immediately.

“Now, hang on, Lord Godfrey, just because a couple of the guests aren’t billionaires doesn’t mean they stole your wallet!” Jacob was bristling and I realized I must have insulted him. After all, he wasn’t a billionaire.

“Who else would?” I couldn’t stop myself from saying it. None of the regular guests would have had a reason to steal my wallet.

Before Jacob could answer me, a light knocking on the door interrupted us. I turned around and found the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen standing in the door to the security office. She was tall and curvy and her long, toned legs were lightly tanned. Her hair was thick and wavy, chocolate colored with gold streaks glinting through the waves. She had pulled it up to try and fight the island humidity, but small tendrils were curling around her cheeks, drawing attention to her amazing amber eyes, thickly lashed and with the same gold glints that decorated her hair. I was so taken with this golden creature that it took me a moment to realize what was in her hand. My wallet.

I jumped up and snatched it from her hand. “Where did you get my wallet?”

Confusion crossed her face. “I found it, on one of the paths near the pool.”

“What took you so long to return it?” I demanded. My eyes swept over her and I realized that despite her obvious attractiveness, she must have been one of the contest winners. Her clothes looked cheap and her shoes appeared to be made of plastic.

“I…” her voice trailed off as she saw me taking in her clothing.

Jacob jumped in to help her. “I’m sure she didn’t mean any harm. She’s returned the wallet.” He turned to her, “Miss Tate, isn’t it? I hope you’re enjoying your stay here. Thank you for returning Lord Godfrey’s wallet.” He gave me a pointed look.

I shoved the wallet into my pocket. “Yes, thank you.” Maybe I was a bit hasty but I still thought she took a long time to return it. It had been missing since yesterday. Still, I was nothing if not polite.

“Miss Tate, was it? Again, thank you for finding my wallet. Would you care to join me for a drink so I might express my gratitude?” I gave her my mega-watt charity event smile.

It got them every time.

Chapter 3

Samantha

I was fighting the desire to throw myself off my chair to see if I was awake. I was sitting at an ocean-side bar, the breeze warm and salty, with one Lord Eric Godfrey. Lord. Was that even real? Were there really people with that title just strolling the earth anymore?

I couldn’t imagine anyone more suited to the title of Lord than the man sitting next to me. Attractive was an understatement. He was taller than me, which was always a plus since I’m tall for a girl, and leanly muscular. He had the kind of body that came from playing sports like soccer and rowing rather than hours spent grunting in a gym. His hair was lushly black and waved away from his high forehead. Eyes of palest grey, almost silver, were framed with those thick lashes most women couldn’t achieve even with copious amounts of mascara. The icing on the cake was that voice. Just low enough and butter smooth with a posh British accent. He sounded like Prince Harry.

He was a gentleman, too. When we got to the bar he pulled out my chair and helped me onto it with a light hand on my back before settling into his own seat. He turned to me with the same dazzling smile he’d given me earlier. There was something not quite sincere about it.

“So, what can I get for you?” he asked politely.

“I’ll have an iced coffee, please,” I replied.

He raised his eyebrow at me. “Iced coffee? You’re a young woman on a tropical vacation and you want iced coffee.”

I bristled. Why did he care what I drank? “Yes. I don’t drink alcohol. And it’s not even lunchtime.”

“Very well, one iced coffee.” He waved at the bartender and placed the order, getting a beer for himself.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, sipping on our drinks and watching a flock of seagulls dip in and out of the emerald waves.

“So, Miss Tate,” he relaxed back into his chair, amber bottle dangling from his fingertips, “where are you from?”

“Please, call me Samantha,” I replied and wondered what I should call him. Sir? Lord?

“Samantha, then.” He gave me another smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Well, I’m from Chicago…” I started.

“Yes, I’ve been there. Very nice town. Dreadful this time of year, I hear. And your parents? Do they live there?”

“Um…” I took a sip of my drink. I should just lie and tell him, yes but wasn’t the kind of person I was, “I don’t know. I grew up as a foster child. I don’t know my parents.”

“Ah. I see.” His eyes drifted thoughtfully back to the waves before he looked at me again. “And what do you do in Chicago, Samantha?”

The way my name rolled off his tongue, like honey and silk, sent a shiver up my spine. I almost forgot what he’d asked. “I’m, uh, a college student.”

“Studying what?” His grey eyes flicked up and down my cheap cotton sundress and dollar store shoes. I felt like a lab specimen being studied.

“Business,” I managed to choke out.

“At least it’s not something completely useless like French Literature or Sanskrit.” He smiled tightly at me. “But I’m sure a girl like you carefully weighed your options before applying to University.”

“A…girl like me?” I sputtered at him.

He completely ignored my question. “What do you do when you aren’t studying or attending class?”

“I work as a waitress and sometimes as a tutor and even occasionally as a dog walker or babysitter.”

“Why so many jobs?” He seemed genuinely confused as to why a young college student would need to work so much.

“Because I’m broke and getting broker by the day,” I said flatly. I set my cup on the bar. I didn’t want to talk with Sir Lord Eric blah blah Mr. I’m-better-than-you anymore.

Just as I was about to get up, he pulled his wallet from his pocket and took out the wad of cash I’d shoved back inside. Was he…? Was he going to give me reward for returning his wallet? I hadn’t meant to come across as needy and I certainly didn’t want his pity but I wouldn’t turn down an award if that’s what he was up to.

He quickly began to shuffle through the bills.

“What? You don’t trust me?” I joked and grinned at him.

“No. I don’t.” The smile he gave me in return was cold and heartless. “And furthermore, if it’s not all here, I shall have you arrested.” He started to flick through the bills again.

That arrogant asshole just accused me of being a thief. I jumped out of my chair so fast it clattered to the ground behind me. Before Lord Arrogant could move I was in his face, my cheeks burning with fury.

“You arrogant, elitist, pompous, snob!” I ground from between my clenched teeth.

He cocked one eyebrow at me. “Well, you certainly have a university vocabulary.”

I grabbed his chair by the arms and leaned forward until I was inches from his face. “You, sir, are a grade-A asshole. You think because I’m a poor foster kid from Chicago, that I’m a thief?”

“You certainly made it sound like you needed money,” he drawled.

“Smug bastard,” I spat at him.

“Yes. I’ve been called that one before.”

Fury started making my vision go red. I was a little afraid I might hit the guy.

“You’re a bigoted bastard. You think anyone who’s poorer than you is less than you. You sit around on your private island and in your gated country home, protected from us poor plebs. You and your kind sit around talking about how poor people should just ‘pull themselves up by their bootstraps’ or that we’re lazy and looking for handouts. You’ve had everything handed to you on a silver platter and so did your father and his father. You don’t know anything about how the real world works.”

“I think I know plenty about how the world works, darling.” His smile was smug and self-assured.

I smacked at the arms of his chair, rocking it backward and enjoyed the startled look on his face. “The hell you do. There are less than two thousand people like you in the entire world. That makes you very much in the minority. You don’t know what it means to wonder where your next meal is coming from, or if you have a safe place to sleep at night, or if junkies are going to rob you of what little you have, or if you’re going to have to move for the fourteenth time. Or whether you’re going to live through the night because the house you’re in is below freezing because your foster parents haven’t paid their electric bill. There are almost half a million kids in the United States alone who live just like that every day. So, don’t tell me you know what real life is like. You don’t, you arrogant prick.”

His face was truly shocked this time. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open.

“One more thing. Yeah, I considered keeping that money. It would have meant a lot to me. When I go home I’m going to lose my place at school and maybe my apartment because I can’t make enough money to pay for everything. So, while that money is just pocket change to someone like you, it could have saved my entire world. Losing your wallet was just a minor inconvenience for you. It was a huge sacrifice for me to give it back.”

I was panting, I was so angry. I knew my cheeks were flushed bright red and I was inches away from his face.

And then his mouth was on mine. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to move. His lips slanted over mine and I tasted the salt air on his lips. Right before I slapped him. I shoved at him, rocking his chair again and pushed away.

“Stay away from me, Sir, Lord…whoever you are.” And I spun on my heel and stalked away from the little oceanside bar.

“Eric,” I heard him call to me. “You can call me Eric.”

I sped up and once again found myself on one of the many jungle paths that crossed the resort. I stopped. And the tears started, flowing hot and fast down my cheeks. I shouldn’t have come here. I didn’t belong with these kind of people. The kind who thought just because I was a poor kid from Chicago that I was going to rip them off. I’d never understood why people thought money made someone a good person. I’ve watched the poorest people I know give other people the last of their food while I’ve watched people I know can afford it walk past a starving kid on the street. Money doesn’t buy morals or compassion.

I dashed the burning tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand, rubbing my sniffling nose. I’m done here, I decided. I was going to the office to see if I could cut my trip short. And if not, I’d stay locked in my room until it was time for me get off Elitist Island.

Chapter 4

Eric

My face was stinging from Samantha’s smack. I rubbed ruefully over the burning mark on my cheek. Surprisingly, I didn’t think I’d ever been slapped by a woman before. I grinned as I tossed back the last of my drink and headed off in the direction I saw her walking.

I’d just made it to the entrance of the path when a sound stopped me. It sounded like…sobbing. Quietly, I moved forward a few feet and saw Samantha. Her hands were over her face, and her shoulders were shaking slightly. I couldn’t believe she was crying. I couldn’t believe I made her cry. And that she ran off to hide before she started. Portia didn’t mind letting loose the tears if she thought it would get what she wanted. Samantha was no Portia.

I moved back, stepping into the shadow of swaying palm just far enough that Samantha wouldn’t see me if she turned around. I’d respect her right to cry privately, but I didn’t want to leave her completely alone. After all, if it weren’t for me and my completely ass-like behavior, she wouldn’t have been sobbing on a jungle path alone.

Why did I count the money in front of her? Why did I threaten to have her arrested? Especially when she was right. Losing that money wouldn’t have meant anything to me. I’ve lost more than that in a single poker hand before. I never thought about money. It was just there. It always had been. I’ve never had to work a day in my life. My family had companies and investments that ran themselves with the help of savvy and trusted business managers. The money had and would continue to flow into my family’s coffers for generations without any of us ever lifting a finger if that’s what we wished.

But for Samantha, having that small bit of money that Portia would have spent on a handbag would have helped her stay at university and pay rent on her flat. I thought she was right about something else; I didn’t know anything about the real world. Peripherally, I was aware that most people in the world weren’t as wealthy as me or the people I knew. I’d seen poverty. Like most people of my station, I had taken charity trips to Africa and India to see the schools and orphanages our fancy fundraising dinners had funded. I’d seen people in the governmental housing in my country, barely scraping by each month. But, aside from philanthropic trips, I never thought about what it meant to have less, to be poor. Because I had never been, nor would I be.

I was an utter ass.

I watched Samantha from behind my palm tree. She straightened up and rubbed roughly at her face. Now her shoulders, instead of shaking, looked firm and resolute like she’d made up her mind about something. I hoped not about me.

I spent my night tossing and turning in my bed. I couldn’t stop thinking about Samantha. She was not like any of the girls I’d ever known. And not just because she was a broke, American university student. She had a passion inside of her that she wasn’t afraid to show. No stiff upper lip for her. She was no stranger to hard work. The most work Portia ever did was dialing for reservations. And she was gorgeous.

Damn, was she gorgeous. She was so tall I felt like we’d line up perfectly in bed. And those long legs, muscular and bronze. I’d love to feel them wrapped around my waist.

Bloody hell. I threw off my blankets and crossed over to the doors leading to the veranda, pushed open the curtains and watched the sun rising bright and bronze over the dark blue ocean.

By the time my breakfast was delivered to my room I’d made up my mind. I was going to find the lovely Samantha today and try to get to know her better. I was highly attracted to her but, even if nothing but friendship came from our meeting, I simply wanted to know her. I wanted her to know I wasn’t the elitist asshole she thought I was.

After breakfast, I threw on swim trunks and a t-shirt. I was trying to look casual and non-threatening. More down to earth. Then, I headed out of my villa to find Samantha.

It’s still early, so I checked the restaurant and dining area first, thinking she might be at breakfast. When I didn’t catch any sight of her I headed off to the pool. There was no one there except some botoxed woman draped in jewels. No wonder Samantha thought wealthy people were ridiculous. Because we kind of were.

I’d circled the resort twice with no sign of her. I even stopped by the excursions desk to see if she booked a dolphin snorkel trip or boat for the day. Nothing. And I didn’t know what room she was in. I was about to give up when I saw Jacob crossing the lobby and heading to his office. I’d just have to pump Jacob for information.

I hurried across the lobby and caught him just before he slipped into the security office.

“Jacob, how are you this morning?” I gave him a friendly smack on the shoulder and shook his hand.

“Good morning, Lord Godfrey. I’m well. Please come in.” He gestured me into his office. “Have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

“Thank you, no.” I slid into the seat in front of his desk, and waited for him to settle into his chair.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company this morning?” he asked me. “Nothing missing again, I hope.”

“No, no, nothing like that. Listen, Jacob, we’re friends, aren’t we?”

He ran a hand over his shiny head, his face thoughtful before he carefully said “In a manner of speaking. You and your family have been coming to Diamond Cove for over twenty years. I’ve known you since you were a teenager.”

“So, you trust me then?” I said.

“What do you want, Lord Godfrey?” His gaze was shrewd as he took in my casual clothes.

“Samantha. The girl who found my wallet.”

“You want the girl?” His eyebrows shot up to his bare head.

“Yes. No. I mean, I just want to know where she is. I was a bit of an ass yesterday and I’d like the chance to apologize properly to her.”

“I see.” He was staring at me from across the desk and the silence was the most uncomfortable I’d ever experienced. I could feel the judgment in his gaze. “She came to see me yesterday evening,” he finally said.

“What? Why?” Bloody hell, had she lodged some sort of complaint against me for kissing her?

“She wanted to know how quickly she could leave the island. Seemed very upset,” he answered.

I twisted in the chair, nervous. These weren’t the types of feelings I was accustomed to having.

“Mind telling me what went on?” Jacob asked.

“Er, I didn’t come across very well.” I could feel my face getting hot. “I may have insinuated that she was a thief and threatened to have her arrested. Then I kissed her without her permission.”

“Well, no wonder she was so charmed by our lovely resort.” Jacob guffawed.

“So, I’d just like the chance to apologize to her. Can you tell me where she is?”

Jacob was still chuckling. “You are a right bastard.”

“Blithering ass, more like. Come on, Jacob. You going to help me out or not?”

“Technically, I’m not supposed to give out guest information. And I think you should leave the girl alone. You really upset her last night.”

“Do you want me to beg, Jacob?”

He chuckled again and tapped at his computer. “No. Just keep this strictly between us. She’s in room 310, South Wing.”

“Thank you so much, Jacob.” I jumped up from my chair and hastily pushed it backward. “Isn’t your daughter going to be sixteen soon? I’ll buy her a car.”

Jacob’s face was stunned into disbelief before he stuttered, “No, she’ll be six.”

“A pony, then. Thank you again.” I left his office at a jog and was at a full sprint by the time I was crossing the resort lobby.

I wove through the lobby and around pots of tropical plants. Too impatient to wait for the elevator, I took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. I slowed to a walk as I headed down the hall, trying to catch my breath as I read the numbers off the doors. I found Samantha’s door almost at the end.

Standing in front of door 310, I took a few deep breaths and pushed my fingers through my hair to straighten it. Finally, I knocked.

“No service, please,” echoed from inside.

She thought I was housekeeping. I knocked again.

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” came back again, sharper this time.

I knocked harder and the door snatched open before my knuckles landed the final strike.

“Hi.” Oh yes, that was a smooth opener. It was no wonder this girl thought I was a complete and utter twit.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she stared at me like I was something on the bottom of her shoe.

“Er…” I continued with the smoothness.

“What do you want?” she finally asked me. And a little rudely, quite frankly.

“Well, I wanted to apologize for yesterday.”

“Fine. Thank you. Apology accepted. Have a nice day.” She started to push the door closed. I stuck my foot in the crack. She pushed harder. It hurt, actually.

“Wait. I wanted to know if we could start things over. I’ll forget you just tried to break my foot and you can forget I’m a…”

“Pompous asshole? Smug elitist? Arrogant shit?”

“All of those, yes.”

The corner of her lip twitched slightly.

“Please? Have another drink with me?” I gave her my dazzler smile.

“I know that smile is fake,” she replied.

“You are very observant. Yes, it’s my charity event newspaper article smile. I apologize. Only the sincerest of smiles for you from now own.” I lay my hands over my heart and tried to look as sincere as possible.

“I appreciate your attempt at sincerity. But I don’t think we should have another drink.”

“A walk then. Just a harmless stroll down the beach? What have you got to lose?”

A shadow passed across her face and I wondered what I’d said. It was gone as quickly as it came and she opened the door with defeated sigh. “Come in, I’ve got to change.”

I stepped in and pushed the door closed behind me. Her room was a suite, quite a bit smaller than my villa but still luxurious. She moved into the bedroom and pushed the door halfway closed.

I shoved my hands into my pockets as I wandered around the living area, looking at the paintings on the wall.

“So, are you in this building?” she asked from the bedroom.

“Er, no. I’m on the other side.” I moved toward the bedroom, stopping just outside the door.

“Like, the north wing?” I heard the soft shift and slide of fabric. I couldn’t help myself as I glanced toward the cracked door. Her back was long and flawless, just as bronzed as her legs and fuck me, she was wearing a pair of white, cotton panties. It was so innocent and sexy. Just like the two dimples on her lower back. I felt my cock shift. She slipped a coral-colored sundress over her head and I moved silently back across the room.

“No, I’m in a beachside villa,” I said quickly.

“Oh, a villa. Well, la di da,” she appeared around the corner of the door, her cheap shoes in her hand. She slipped them on and quickly caught her hair up, wrapping it around her hand in that twisty way that girls did, and slipped a band over it.

I didn’t think she knew how breathtaking she was. In her mass-market clothes and wild hair, she would outshine every single debutante and titled girl I had ever been introduced to. Including the perfectly coiffed and arrayed Portia.

I offered my elbow. “Shall we, Miss Tate?”

She giggled as she tucked her hand in the curve of my arm. “Let’s shall, Lord Godfrey.”

“Eric,” I reminded her.

“Eric,” she replied with a grin.

Chapter 5

Samantha

I could not believe he just showed up at my door. Lord Godfrey. Eric. I wanted to be angry at him, I wanted to hate him. I couldn’t. He was charming as all hell and the accent didn’t hurt. I didn’t know what he really wanted from me but I felt safe with him. It wouldn’t hurt to take a walk, have a chat, and spend some time studying his grey eyes and nicely muscled arms. One of which my hand was now gripping. It was firm and warm. Thoughts of other firm and warm body parts danced quickly through my mind.

I cleared my throat. “So, a walk on the beach you said?”

Eric smiled at me and I saw that this time his smile is real. “Absolutely. This is a beautiful little island and you’ve hardly seen any of it. I’d love to show you around.”

We headed down the spiral stairs and crossed the fragrant garden before heading around the pool. I let Eric lead me down another path I hadn’t seen before. It was narrow and lined with lush green bushes and trees with large, waxy leaves. I had to drop his arm and walk behind him as the path narrowed even more. The sound of the waves was clearer and then suddenly we were off the path and standing at the edge of the beach.

And it was the most beautiful beach.

It was a crescent shaped cove with sand that glimmered like it was made of diamonds. Everywhere the sunlight touched threw showers of glittering sparks. The ocean was every color of blue and green I’d ever seen, all woven into one flowing, glimmering blanket of water that lapped softly against the shore. The palms were the deepest and lushest of greens and the flowers the brightest of yellows and pinks. The air was heaven-scented, sweet and soft as an angel’s touch.

“Eric,” I breathed “this is…gorgeous isn’t even the right word.”

“I know.” He smiled at me, dazzling and true. “Come on.” He tugged on my arm and lead me down the sand. I slipped off my shoes and let my toes sink into the warm sand. It was as soft as feathers against my skin.

“This way.” Eric wove his fingers through mine and pulled me down the beach. I saw a double hammock strung between two palm trees at the far end. We headed toward it.

“Have a seat,” Eric said to me.

“Are we done with our walk already?” I teased.

“I don’t see any reason to continue. We’re on the most beautiful, and private, beach in the world. Might as well enjoy it.”

I shrugged and dropped into the hammock. It dipped and swayed beneath me as I wiggled into place. When Eric grabbed the ropes and pulled the hammock, it swung wildly and I squealed before dissolving into giggles.

“Right then, shove over,” he said.

“No way. You sit over there.” I pointed a few feet away at an exposed tree root.

“Absolutely not,” he responded and flipped into the hammock with me.

We shifted and laughed as the hammock careened and rocked before finally settling into a gentle swaying rhythm. Eric’s leg was pressed against mine. My skin tingled where it met his. He didn’t seem to be affected though. He crossed his arms beneath his head and took a deep breath of the heady ocean air.

“Lovely, yes?” he asked.

“Uh…” Was he talking about me?

“The beach,” he finally said, “isn’t it lovely.”

“Oh! Yes, it is. Gorgeous. It really is. I’ve never seen anywhere as beautiful.”

“So, what about in Chicago? Nothing lovely there?” His eyes were studying the light dappling through the palm fronds above us.

“Chicago has its charms, some great architecture, friendly mid-western people, and fabulous pizza if I do say so myself. But no, nothing that compares to this.”

“Ah yes, that deep dish pizza. It is delicious.”

“Oh, you’ve had it?” was a little surprised.

“Of course. A friend had some flown in for a little soiree once.”

“Flown. In. That must have been an insane delivery charge,” I joked weakly. Because of course. Everyone had pizza flown four thousand for a little get-together.

Eric sighed deeply. “I’m well aware of how that sounds but it’s not like a private plane was chartered just to deliver pizza to a bunch of privileged tossers.”

“I didn’t say anything.” But I did think it.

“You didn’t have to. I could hear it in your voice. I know I don’t live in the “real world” but this world is real to me. I can’t help the circumstances I was born into any more than you. You took incredible exception when you thought I was judging you by your background. Why is it any different just because I happen to be wealthy?”

Ouch. Eric had a point. I’d struggled to overcome the stigma attached to being a poor foster kid and here I was pointing fingers at him for something that was beyond his control.

“But you did. Judge me by background,” I told him.

“Yes. I did. And I’m sorry.” His voice was low and the words were simple but they touched me nonetheless.

I hadn’t expected him to admit it.

He put his foot down and pushed to make the hammock sway again. We rocked gently for a few moments, the sun warming our faces.

“So, you’re a university student,” he said.

“Mmhmm,” I mumbled.

“And you work. A lot.”

“Mmhmm,” I mumbled again.

“What do you do for fun, then? After the school and the work?”

“I don’t usually have time for much else,” I said.

“Surely you must do something for recreation.”

“Recreation. That’s very funny,” I laughed.

“Are you laughing at me?” It was so hard to tell when he was joking or not.

“I am.”

“Well, all right then. Glad I can amuse.” I heard the smile in his voice.

I watched as a small bird flitted through the trees.

“What do you do with your time?” I finally asked him.

“Honestly?”

“Of course, honestly.”

“Not much, really.” His voice sounded pained like he was making a confession he was ashamed of.

“Come on. You do something.” I elbowed him gently.

“Well, I was engaged. That’s off now. And sometimes I go into the office of my family’s business for some briefings by our board. But I’m not needed there, really. The business side of my family’s holdings is well-oiled and cranks along. I travel. Quite a bit. I guess I do more traveling than anything else.” He didn’t sound very proud of that admission.

“A professional jet-setter,” I said.

“If you must use that term, I suppose that’s what I am.” He sounded disgruntled. “But what about you, what are your plans?”

“Are you changing the subject?”

“Maybe,” he said out of the side of his mouth. “Are you going to answer?”

“Well, I’m getting a bachelor’s degree in business and I planned on pursuing my MBA as well. After that, I want to work in the non-profit sector, securing funds for programs that help disadvantaged children. But, I might have to put those plans on the backburner. Tuition and living expenses aren’t cheap.”

When he didn’t reply, I started to worry he found my answer to be classless. Or trite.

“Samantha, why did you return my wallet if you needed the money so badly?” he finally asked me.

“Why did you think I’d steal your money just because I was poor?” I countered.

“That’s not…” he sputtered and sat up.

“That’s not what? What you thought? Because you admitted it earlier.” I pushed up out of the hammock.

“I just meant…people who have less…tend to be…” he was struggling not to offend me, I could tell. But I didn’t care.

“Tend to be hardworking? Industrious? Economical? I hope to God that’s what you were planning on saying,” I fumed at him.

“No, no. Just maybe…less…respectable?” He gave me a sheepish grin.

I looked up at the sky and pulled in a deep breath between my tight lips. “Do you realize that studies prove the more money a person has, the less ethical they become?

“Not bloody likely,” he scoffed.

“Nope. It’s true. More wealth equals less compassion. The wealthy are more likely to lie, cheat, and steal than people with fewer means. And the rich are more likely to see greed as a good thing. More them, less for the “less deserving”. They feel their socioeconomic class gives them a privilege that sets them above the average person.”

“Is that true?” he asked weakly.

“You’re an educated man. I’m sure you attended the finest schools’ money could buy. Examine the studies for yourself.” I turned and started to stalk off across the sand.

“Samantha, wait.” Eric’s hand landed on my arm and he urged me to face him.

“What is it? I have robberies to plan.” I snatched my arm from his grip.

“You are the fiercest person I’ve ever met.” His eyes shone down at me as his cheeks dimpled into a grin. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as sharp or witty as you. You hold your own, don’t you?”

“I’ve always had to,” I responded.

He stepped closer to me and I remembered the feel of his lips on mine. It had been the briefest of kisses, but the push of his mouth against mine was burned into my mind.

“You don’t have to be on guard with me,” he said.

“I think I do.”

His fingers drifted up and skimmed across my cheek as he tucked a windblown strand of hair back behind my ear.

“I do believe you’re correct,” he said.

“I have to be on guard with you?” The admission startled me.

“No,” he chuckled, “but perhaps you should maintain an…alert state. I meant about the wealthy. The expectation that their money confers privileges they consider exclusively theirs. They do. We do. I can’t count myself out of the equation. It’s something we should strive to change, I know. But don’t count us all out. We’re not all that bad.”

“I’ll give that some thought,” I said.

“There’s something else I’d like you to give some thought.”

“What’s that?”

“Have dinner with me.”

His request made me take a step a back and lose my voice. “Like, a date?” I finally managed to squeak out.

“Exactly like a date,” he smiled.

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” I responded.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” I laughed, “I don’t have time for a boyfriend.”

“Are you fasting for some spiritual reason I’m unaware of?”

“No. You’re a funny guy.”

“You have to eat dinner, then. Might as well be with me,” he said.

I knew I should have said no. But he was charming and very good looking and I hadn’t been on a date in…well, it was so long ago I couldn’t even remember. Yes, he’d accused me of stealing, but I was pretty sure we’d moved past that now. He seemed much more open-minded than I anticipated. And his body was warm and close to mine and I could feel small electric charges between us. Maybe it was the hot air or the cool breeze or the hypnotic lap of the waves on the sand but I wanted to spend more time with him. Be even closer to him. I wanted him to kiss me again. For real this time and not because he was trying to shut me up.

“Okay,” I said simply.

“Okay?” he grinned.

“Yes, I’ll have dinner with you,” I laughed. “Sheesh, get turned down a lot?”

“No, I’m just hungry. Come on, I need to attend to a few things.” He grabbed my hand again, lacing his fingers between mine.

“Okay. I’d like to stop by and see Jacob.”

“I promise, you don’t need security to have dinner with me.” I laughed as he tugged me up the beach towards the path. If the fluttering in my stomach was any indication, he might be the one who needed protecting from me.

Chapter 6

Eric

I was giddy at the thought of having a date with Samantha but I couldn’t figure out why. Yes, she was beautiful, but my world was full of beautiful women. Any of whom would be happy to date me if I so much as snapped my fingers. Maybe that’s what it was; I didn’t think Samantha would respond to me at all if I snapped my fingers at her. She was brash and outspoken and not about to take my shit. Every other woman I’d ever known had been happy to tell me what I wanted to hear or bend over backward, or into any other position, if I wanted them to. It was all about money and influence with those women. Samantha didn’t care about any of that. It was refreshing.

I stood in front of the mirror, fresh from my shower, with a towel draped around my hips. I finger combed my hair as I considered my reflection. Samantha hadn’t said anything but I thought she found me attractive. She hadn’t objected when I held her hand, or moved away when I shared the hammock with her. I still didn’t want to intimidate her or make her uncomfortable with me. Instead of the tailored suit I normally would have worn to dinner, I chose a pair of linen pants and a plain t-shirt. I slipped on my clothes, left my hair to fall free and headed down to check out the dinner set-up.

I’d had the staff set up a table in a small clearing circled with trees just beyond the veranda of my villa. The table was covered with a pristine white tablecloth and set with bone china and sparkling crystal. Twinkling lights were strung through the trees and a couple of glowing torches spread a warm light over the clearing. As the sun sank lower, the lights and flickering flames turned the clearing into a magical fairyland. I thought Samantha would love it.

I left the staff with a few more instructions and headed over to her room. It only took a few minutes to walk across the grounds to her building but I couldn’t get there fast enough. I bounded up the spiral stairs and knocked on her door, my heart thudding with anticipation.

When she opened the door, I was left speechless.

While I’d chosen to dress down, she’d obviously chosen to dress up. She was in a diaphanous pale apricot gown that clung softly to her curves. She spun on one foot so I could see the back was completely open, dipping so low I could see the dimples at the small of her back. The flowing fabric swept around her ankles and a long slit up the side let her bronzed leg play peek-a-boo through the dress. It was all held up with one thin, gold chain fastened around her graceful neck. Her hair was upswept and dotted with small white flowers. A pair of heels with thin nude straps around the ankles finished her outfit. She looked amazing. And expensive.

“Well?” she asked when I didn’t say anything.

“You look incredible,” I breathed. “But, where did you get the dress?”

“Jacob,” she said airily.

“Jacob had that dress? It’s his color.” I deadpanned.

“No,” she laughed, “Jacob helped me find it. I bet there’s something you didn’t know about the resort. Designers send clothes here for guests to borrow or purchase. There’s an entire closet the size of a small house. I found this.” She spun again.

“It suits you,” I managed.

“Thank you,” she beamed at me. “Are you ready?”

“What? Yes, ready.” I was staring at the dip of her shoulder and the utterly edible-looking curve of her breast. Shaking myself, I stepped forward and offered her my arm. She tucked her hand into the crook of my elbow, and I led her down the stairs and across the grounds toward my villa.

When we rounded the corner to the clearing, she stopped and gasped, her hand fluttering up to land on her throat.

“Eric, my God,” she breathed. Oh, I hoped to hear her say those words again later just like that, while she was naked and pressed against me.

“It’s beautiful.” Her eyes darted around the clearing, taking in the lights and candles and the flowers strewn around the grass. I took her elbow and guided her toward the table, pulling out her chair and helping her arrange her dress around her legs. I took the other seat and smiled at her as she beamed at me.

Our places were already set, our plates resting under silver domes. Other covered dishes sat on a small cart near the table. I hadn’t wanted the staff nearby. I wanted Samantha all to myself. I pulled a bottle of champagne from an ice bucket and held it up. “I know you said you don’t drink, but I hoped you’d like to try some champagne. There’s also sparkling water if you’d prefer.” I didn’t want her to think I was trying to get her sloshed.

She considered for a moment. “Okay, I’ll try some champagne. But just one glass.” Her eyes shined at me as I poured for us. She took a sip and giggled as the bubbles hit her nose. The sound delighted me. She was such a blend of brash worldliness and surprising innocence. The things I could show this woman.

“How do you like it?” I asked, sipping on my own glass.

“It’s good. Bubbly.” She smiled and took another sip.

“Slow down,” I laughed at her, “I don’t want you champagne tipsy. And you’re a rank amateur when it comes to drinking. Here, let’s get some food in you.”

I lifted the dome to her plate. Nestled on a bed of thinly sliced and dressed scallions were three large prawns, plump and pink, with a drizzle of citrusy dressing and a carefully placed dollop of caviar.

“Oh, I can’t eat that,” Samantha exclaimed.

“Are you allergic? I’m sorry, I didn’t think to ask. I can arrange for something else.” I reached over, ready to take the plate.

“No, no,” she laughed and stopped my hand. “It’s just that it’s more like art than food.” She spun the plate around, examining the dish from several angles. “This is definitely the kind of meal you post on Instagram and annoy your friends with.”

Incredible. There she went again, showing that sweet naiveté and unconsciousness of self. “Try it,” I urged her, biting into my own prawn.

She speared the prawn and lifted it to her mouth, biting into the pink flesh. A grin spread slowly across her face as she chewed.

“This is…the best thing I’ve ever eaten!” She took another large bite.

“Try it with a bit of the scallion and caviar,” I urged her.

“Is that what that is?” She pointed with her fork and wrinkled her nose.

“Just give it a try, you can always wash the flavor away with champagne if you don’t like it.”

She tried another, and her face lit up. “All these tastes…it’s like…sweet and orangy and salty, all mixed together…and it should be gross, but it’s so good.” She groaned in pleasure around another forkful.

We moved through dinner and I served every course, a tropical fruit soup, seared scallops with risotto, and little raspberry pistachio mousse cakes. I’d carefully picked every dish myself hoping to treat her to a dinner like she’d never had before.

“Eric, this is incredible,” she said after each dish. Listening to her small moans of pleasure as she savored each bite had me shifting in my chair. I just wanted to sit and watch her eat, watch her sweet lips wrap around her fork, and her eyes slip shut as she let her food linger on her tongue. She’d tilt her head back, baring the elegant length of her neck, making me want to sink my teeth into the tender spot where the neck meets the shoulder.

When we finished eating, and I’d adjusted my trousers for the hundredth time, she reached across the table and grabbed my hand, sliding her fingers through mine. “Thank you, Eric. That was the most amazing meal I’ve ever had.”

I ran my fingers across the tips of hers, stroking her seashell pink nails. “You know, I can give you a lot of amazing meals.”

“I don’t expect you to feed me the entire time I’m here,” she laughed, “besides, I believe meals are included.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant,” I said drolly.

“Then what…oh.” Her amber eyes opened wide when she caught my meaning. “Eric, I don’t think…I mean, you just got out of an engagement. We’re nothing alike. We don’t have anything in common.”

I tugged at her hand, bringing her around the table towards me. I grasped her waist and pulled her down, settling her onto my lap. Her silky dress slid over her legs, the slit opening and leaving her thighs bare.

“You’re right,” I murmured, “I don’t really know you.” My hand trailed up her knee. “It’s best if we don’t get too serious.” My fingers skimmed up her arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps.

“You’re right, we barely know each other.” Her arms shifted and draped around my neck.

I could see her pulse flutter rapidly in her throat, hear the catch in her voice. I nuzzled into her smooth neck. She smelled like honey and sunlight, perfect for someone as golden and sweet as her.

My lips pressed into her skin, and I hear her draw in a breath. I moved my lips up the side of her neck and down her jaw. She’d stopped moving, her fingers laced behind my neck. I pulled her into me, molding her into my body. My hand drifted up and into her caramel-colored hair. I tangled my fingers in and tugged gently. The gold-tinged waves pulled free and tumbled down, spilling small, white flowers around us. I eased her forward, giving her the time to back away if she wanted. Finally, my lips met hers. Waves of her scent washed over me. I moved my mouth softly across hers and eased her lips open. She tasted like raspberries. My tongue slipped in, and I tasted her more fully. She was complex and sweet, and her tongue was raspy velvet against mine.

Without warning, she grasped at my hair, pulling my head back. She wasn’t timid as she pushed her tongue further into my mouth, nipping at my lips and exploring me. It was a battle as we fought to taste each other, our lips warring against each other.

My chair tipped, spilling us onto the ground. I rolled, keeping her above me, her lips still locked with mine. We twisted onto the soft grass, and she lay with her body pressed into every inch of mine. I locked one hand in her hair and slid the other beneath her floaty dress, trailing up her silken thigh and grasping her hip. We rolled, and I trapped her beneath me, her legs drifting open as I settled between them.

My cock was swollen and hot, pressing against the front of my pants. I ground into her and she gasped against my mouth. I pulled my lips from hers and looked down. Samantha’s eyes were dark and full of longing, her skin flushed pink and her lips swollen from my kisses. I pressed a kiss into her shoulder.

“Samantha,” I breathed, “spend the night with me. I want you. Say yes.”

She nodded yes and stretched her arms up, her movements long and luxurious beneath me. I was nipping at the supple skin of her elbow when she stopped moving.

I pulled back and looked at her, “Is something wrong, sweetheart?”

“What…is in…my hair?” she strangled out.

“What?” That was the last thing I had expected to hear her say. I pulled her up and saw her hand clamped over the side of her head. Two tentacles with bulgy little eyes were poking from between her fingers. “Oh, no worries, it’s just a giant land snail. I’ll get the little guy.”

She screamed.

Chapter 7

Samantha

A giant land snail! Who even knew there was such a thing! Well, Eric obviously had. He helped me up and, after some tugging, managed to get the gross thing detached from my hair. He chuckled the entire time and held it up for me to see. Ew. It was a snail all right, slimy and gross and easily as big as Eric’s hand with squirmy little tentacle things waving all over the place. I was a city girl; I didn’t want anything to do with the native wildlife.

Eric eased the snail back into the bushes and turned back to me. Grabbing my hand, he tugged me forward again. “Now, I believe we were in the middle of something.”

“Uh uh, no way. That ship has sailed.” I brushed at the grass sticking to my borrowed dress. When I tried to wrangle my hair, my hand found a spot that was cold and clammy.

“Our little buddy put you off?” Eric pouted at me.

I lifted a lock of my hair. “I have snail slime. In. My. HAIR. And on my hand! This is disgusting, I feel disgusting.” I shuddered.

Eric choked back a laugh. “Okay, snailus interruptus. I should catch the little bugger and have him cooked as escargot. Well, the least we can do is get you cleaned up. Would you like to shower in my villa?”

I gave him a level look. “Are you just trying to get me naked in your room, Lord Godfrey?”

“I most certainly am, Miss Tate.” He grinned at me.

He led me down the curving path and in moments, we were on his veranda. I looked up. “Oh, well, this isn’t shabby.” The two-story house could have easily fit six of my apartment inside. The veranda and balcony above ran the length of the house and both looked out over the ocean. All the windows were lit, soft lights glowing through the gauzy curtains. He opened the veranda doors and led me inside. It was even more beautiful than the outside. I’d never truly known what the term “understated elegance” meant until now. It was this house, all decorated in soft corals and warm sand colors, with plush surfaces and that incredibly fresh smell the entire island seemed to have.

We went up the stairs and turned down a wide hall. The master bedroom was at the end, and it was twice the size of my entire suite. The bed appeared big enough for eight people to sleep in comfortably. “You’re here alone?” I asked.

“Mmhmm, why?” He was rummaging through a drawer.

“This is just…a lot of space for one person.”

He stopped and peered around, a considering look on his face. “I guess you’re right. I never thought about it. We always stayed in a villa when I came with my family and I never really considered…I mean, it’s just habit I think. Anyway, here.” He held out a soft, light blue t-shirt. “You can change into this after you shower.”

I took the shirt and headed for the bathroom. “Whoa.”

Eric stuck his head through the door. “Everything okay?”

I just shook my head. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

The shower was as big as my bedroom back home. It was walk-in and tiled in shiny, sand-colored marble with accents of aquamarine glass. A built-in bench ran the length of one end. There were a total of eight shower heads on the ceiling and walls, each designed to spray and pamper a different part of the body. I stared at the row of knobs.

“Uh, Eric, can I get a little help?”

He was in the room instantly. I gestured at the handles. “I don’t know what controls what.”

He stepped around me and flicked on a few of the knobs. Steam instantly flooded the room, fogging the mirrors and glass. After a few more adjustments he waved me forward. “There you go.” He turned to leave.

“Wait. Stay. Talk to me.” I smiled softly at him.

“Okay,” he said simply.

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry?”

“Turn around.”

“Turn around?” He sounded confused.

“So I can get undressed,” I said.

“So you can…” he bit off the rest of his words and turned.

I slipped out of my designer dress and into the shower. Through the steam and fogged glass, I could just make out Eric’s figure, leaning on the counter near the sink.

I lathered up my hair with shampoo that smelled like freshly squeezed limes. Tilting my head back, I let the stream from one of the showerheads pound over my hair and rinse the snail away. Then I kept my eyes closed and let it ease the tension in my shoulders.

“What are your plans when you leave here?” I called out to him.

I saw him get up and move closer to the shower. “I hadn’t thought about it. What’s Chicago like this time of year?”

“Stop teasing,” I laughed at him.

And then he was in the shower with me, fully dressed, the water soaking his clothes as he pushed me against the wall and slanted his mouth over mine. His tongue pushed into me like he owned me, and my mind reeled with the soft and harsh onslaught of his lips.

He pulled back and looked at me. “I don’t tease.” His mouth crushed mine again.

The wall was slick against my back, and Eric was hard against my front, flattening my breasts against his chest. His hands slid down my water-slicked body and tightened around my hips, pulling me into him so I could feel his cock throbbing against my thigh.

I tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head and dropping it into a sopping heap on the floor. My fingers ran over his chest, exploring the lean muscles of his shoulders.

“Why, Lord Godfrey, is that a tattoo?” There, high on his chest, was a coat of arms in bright colors.

“Yes, it is, Miss Tate.”

“My, aren’t you just full of surprises.”

“You have no idea,” he said in a husky voice.

My fingers traced lightly over the lines before I leaned forward and placed a kiss over the ink. Then, I sank my teeth into the flesh of his chest and was rewarded with a sharp intake of his breath. His hands slid down to the globes of my ass and clutched tightly, fingers biting into the skin as he jerked me forward and ground into me.

I trailed my fingers down his chest, trailing my nails over his stomach. He sucked in his breath and his muscles fluttered when my fingers slipped into the waistband of his pants. I pulled at the button and tugged the zipper, pushing the now soaked pants over his hips and to the floor. He kicked them off.

Then, we were skin to skin, pressed into one another, electricity sparking where our flesh met. I could feel his length, hard and throbbing. He caught my lips in another kiss, and his hands explored me. He tugged at my nipples, pulling them into high, tight peaks as his tongue brushed over my lips. His mouth moved down, tracing fiery trails over my neck and down to my breasts. He palmed each one, weighed them in his hands, flicking his thumbs over my aching nipples before pulling his rasping tongue over first one, then the other. Back and forth he moved, sucking and nipping until my breasts were heavy with desire, a line of fire connecting his tongue, my aching nipples, and my burning core.

He slid down my body, dipping into my navel, dragging his teeth over the sensitive skin of my lower belly. I could feel his breath panting against my hip, his hands circling my thighs. He leaned forward and nuzzled his tongue into my slit, parting my slick crevice with his mouth. My head fell back against the marble wall, and a low moan slipped from between my lips.

He worked his tongue, pushing deeper into me until the tip found my throbbing clit. My legs began to tremble and threatened to give way beneath me. Eric caught me up in his arms and walked me the bench at the end, sitting me on the edge and dropping to his knees in front of me.

His gray eyes bored into mine as he pushed my knees apart. He left me open, raw and exposed to his gaze and his searching fingers and his exploring tongue.

“Samantha, you’re incredibly beautiful. I want you to come for me.”

A shiver traveled down my body at his words. I hadn’t been with many men, and it was never anything special. I’d only had a couple of boyfriends over the years; I was too busy trying to survive to worry too much about sex. And none of them had ever made me feel anything like Eric did.

Eric plunged his tongue back into me, making a long, lazy swipe up my slit before sucking at my swollen bud. His tongue and mouth worked over me, turning my center to molten liquid. My hips moved against his mouth, pressing against him as he pulled at me with his lips. He groaned when I rocked into him. I felt his fingers pressing, and a long, mewling moan slipped from my throat as he pushed a finger inside. He moved in and out, adding another finger, licking at my clit. I could tell his hand was slick with my wetness.

The pressure built, low in my stomach. A tightening and tingle spread from my center. Everything went gray at the edges and my eyes lost focus. The pounding sound of the shower receded the steamy air disappeared; there was only Eric, focused on me, his fingers sliding into my body, mouth latched on to my throbbing clit, and eyes locked on my face.

My eyes slipped shut and my body bowed upward. Eric snatched at my hips, holding me to his mouth as I convulsed around his tongue. My legs trembled against his shoulders and my world exploded into silvered pieces around me.

Eric caught me before I slipped off the bench and pressed his mouth against mine. I tasted myself, tart on his tongue. He sat on the bench, his cock stiff, the crown purpled and throbbing between us. I wrapped a hand around his length, testing the weight in my hand. It was heavy and thick, a bead pearled on the tip. He groaned and pulled me back for another lingering kiss.

“I need you, Samantha,” he rasped against my mouth, “I need to be inside you.”

I slid my leg over his lap, his eyes burning my flesh as he watched me. I steadied myself over him and moved, grasping the base of his cock, placing the tip against my burning channel. His fingers dug into my hips, holding me.

I eased down, gasping as his thickness pushed me apart. He held still, letting me lower myself. His teeth gritted, and his chest heaved with his panting breaths. I pushed down further, moaning low and long as I sank further and further down his engorged length. He filled me, completely. I felt him in every fiber of my body. My heat wrapped around his cock, my nose full of his smell, my mouth covered in our combined tastes.

He moved then, pushing into me and easing back out, pulling my hips to him, to ride against him. I slid up and down his cock, slick with my juice. He panted, his eyes glazed over and skin goose pimpled. I threw back my head and let myself go, riding him, taking him deep inside me, letting him split me with his cock. I felt the tension building again, the mewling cries crawling up my throat once more.

“Samantha, Samantha,” he panted over and over, like a prayer chant.

And then we came undone, exploding over one another, our bodies one trembling mass of sensation. Sparks ran between us, firing our skin. He jerked into me, spilling himself deep inside, snatching at my head, roughly taking my lips and moaning into my mouth. He made me his.

Chapter 8

Eric

When I rolled over, she was there. Warm and soft against my side, with early morning sunlight picking out the golden glints in her glorious hair. My eyes ran down the curves of her body, the sheet draped over her hips, her long, slim leg tucked between mine. I ran a finger up her arm and over her shoulder, gently, careful not to wake her. I let a lock of her hair curl around my finger.

When my eyes moved back to her face, hers were open, deep, burning amber, lit from within. My God, this woman. My body had never responded to a woman the way it had to her. After the shower last night, we’d stumbled into the bed, wet and slick against one another. I’d plunged into her, over and over, the fire between us only dimming each time but never fully stoked.

I rolled onto her and she stretched underneath me, molding her sweet curves into my angles.

“Good morning,” she murmured against my neck.

“Good morning,” I said and slid between her legs once more, pressing my cock into her wet and welcoming body.

We ordered room service and sat across from each other, slipping fruit into each other’s mouths with our fingers, sucking on the tips of each other’s hands. She was in one of my t-shirts. It swept and fluttered around her thighs, and I knew she wasn’t wearing anything else underneath.

“So,” I asked her, “what are you going to do for the rest of your stay here?”

“I don’t know. Lay on the beach? Hunt for shells?” She popped a piece of pineapple into her mouth.

“You know, staying here means you can take advantage of any excursion or travel option they offer. Snorkeling, sailing, ATV riding, horseback riding. They have plenty you can do.”

“Oh.” I saw her face fall and I knew then that she was hoping to spend the rest of her time with me.

“Perhaps we can do a few things together,” I offered.

“Yeah, maybe. I mean, just whenever you’re not busy if you want. Maybe lunch?”

I reached across the table and tugged at her fingers. “Lunch sounds wonderful. I do have a few things to take care of though. Shall I meet you in the dining room later?”

She thought this was a dismissal. And it was. In a manner of speaking. I just needed some time to think, and I couldn’t do it with her long legs, firm ass and wild fuck-me hair swanning around my villa.

I stood up from the table. “I need to jump in the shower.”

“Oh. Okay.” She dropped her napkin and stood up, her eyes shining with hurt.

I walked around the table and pulled her to me, pressing my lips into hers. “I’ll see you at lunch.” Then I headed up the stairs to my shower.

I soaped up and tried not to dwell on the memory of Samantha spread open on the bench, writhing on my tongue. I couldn’t. Even though I’d been inside of her this morning, my cock still thickened and throbbed until I fisted it quickly in my hand and tried to give myself some relief.

I decided exercise would be the only thing to tame my body. After I had toweled off, I threw on a t-shirt, running pants and pair of trainers and headed off down the beach. I jogged down the sand until I found the path I was looking for. I rolled my shoulders, stretched out my legs and then set off down the path.

I was headed toward the interior of the island. The jungle was thicker in that area, the trees grew closer together, and the ocean breezes didn’t penetrate the thickets, making the air heavy and warm. I trudged upward, heading up an incline to the ridge at the center of the island.

Insects ticked and chattered around me, birds sang in the trees high above my head and once I had to sidestep a red-tipped snake that slithered across my path.

And all the while Samantha filled my head.

I knew it was dangerous to think of the things I was thinking. We’d only just met. I didn’t really know her. Maybe she was after my money. Maybe it was too soon after Portia and her betrayal to think about another relationship. Maybe I’d just wind up hurting her or she would hurt me.

I wasn’t sure if I could let another woman get close to me. I didn’t know if I’d lost my trust and that was not something I wanted to try out on Samantha.

The path steepened and I bent over, hands on my knees to catch my breath. Images of Samantha flashed through my mind. Returning my wallet to Jacob, slapping my face, lounging in the hammock, that glorious floaty dress. Sprawled naked across my bed. On her knees in front of me, my cock sliding between her lips.

Damn.

I sprinted the last few yards up the ridge, bursting above the tree line to the top. The sun burned overhead, the sky impossibly blue, the island spread out below me. I could see the bright, white sands and the green that ringed them. Sails scuttled across the green- and blue patched seas in the distance and a pod of dolphins frolicked in the waters to the west. Despite the beauty around me, all I could think of was how I wished I’d brought Samantha to see it. She was smart and kind and sexy and brash and bold and hardworking and deserved everything I could give her and more. And I could give her more than she’d ever imagined.

I couldn’t make my way back down the path fast enough. I was going to do it. No woman, not Portia or any other girl I’d ever met made me feel the way Samantha did. I wanted her, and she wanted me. Just me. Not my money. She never asked me about how much I had, and she hadn’t asked me to buy her anything or give her gifts. She’d returned the money she needed badly. I decided I would give Samantha the world if she’d let me. At the very least, I’d help her through school.

I ran down the ridge, stumbled over the trail, and flew out of the jungle and across the beach. I could feel the grin on my face. And I could feel the sweat coating my back.

The humid jungle air was stuck to my skin, covering it in a sticky, sweaty film. I grimaced and pulled my t-shirt away from my body. I’d run back to my villa, jump back into the shower quickly and go to Samantha’s room before lunch. Then, I’d help her pack her bags and move them over to my villa. Or, if she preferred, I’d stay in her suite. Either way, she was spending the rest of her vacation with me.

I jogged down the path, shells crunching under my feet and swerved around the housekeeper. I let myself in the door and took the stairs two at a time, stripping off my sweat-soaked t-shirt as I made my way down the hall. I kicked off my shoes at the door to my room and walked across to drop my key on the dresser.

Wait.

I turned and looked at the bedside stand. I know I left my wallet up here. Maybe.

I ran back down the stairs and glanced around the living and dining area, even checked the veranda. Nothing. I dashed back upstairs and ran my hands through the pockets of the pants I’d worn the day before. Suspicion began to nudge at me.

I went over to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer. A Patek Philippe watch and a Christophe Claret watch, gone. Platinum and diamond solitaire cufflinks, gone. My wallet and money, gone. Easily close to two million dollars in items and money. That would pay a helluva lot of tuition.

I slammed the dresser drawer shut and clenched my fists. Son of a bitch! That bitch!

Pain stabbed at my heart as I thought of her innocent eyes and sweet smile. Lies.

She’d smiled at me and moaned my name and fucked me and lied to me with her honeyed mouth.

I let out a roar and swept a lamp from the dresser, flinging it across the room. It shattered against the wall, the bulb popping when it broke.

I wondered when I went to Jacob and he pulled up her information, if we’d find a string of wealthy men robbed of their goods in hotel rooms and resorts across the world. I doubted she was even a college student.

She got me good, with one of the oldest tricks around. I never thought I’d be the kind of man who’d get led around by his cock but I was wrong. About so many things.

I quickly stripped off the rest of my clothes and cleaned up, pulling on a suit. I wanted Samantha to be intimidated now. I wanted her to see the kind of wealth and power she was dealing with when I confronted her.

I strode down the stairs and out the front door of the villa. I started for the lobby before changing my mind. I wanted to have this confrontation in private before I reported her to Jacob. It’s not like she could go anywhere, this was a private island.

I switched directions, stomping across the grounds toward her building. I tore up the spiral stairs and stalked down the hallway, stopping in front of her door. My heart was suddenly in my throat, and I swallowed around the lump. I stood, my forehead pressed against her door.

This was worse than Portia. I didn’t love Portia, I knew that now. Portia hurt my ego, my pride. I was more upset by the fact that she’d pulled one over on me than I was by the fact that she was fucking her “gay best friend”.

Samantha had come into my world and destroyed it. Even Diamond Cove was destroyed for me. I wouldn’t ever return to the island that had been another home for my family and I over the past twenty years.

Samantha had wounded me. The pain was deep, spearing through my heart and twisting through my brain. If she’d only let me, I would have given her more than she’d stolen from me. She could have had anything from me. Even if it was only an act from her, I loved her.

I took a step back and rubbed my hands roughly over my face before pulling my fingers through my hair. I straightened my jacket, smoothed my tie, and brushed any wrinkles off my lapel.

I faced the door, heart fluttering in my throat.

Then, I knocked.

Chapter 9

Samantha

I’d left Eric’s villa in a daze. I’d been a little upset that he hadn’t wanted to spend the morning in bed, wrapped around each other. However, I was enough of an adult to realize he didn’t owe me anything. And that he had a life that needed attending.

So, I’d wrapped my dress from the night before around my waist in a makeshift skirt, twisted my hair up on the top of my head, slid on my shoes, and did the walk of shame across the resort back to my suite.

Except, I wasn’t ashamed. Not even a little.

I passed a young housekeeper on the path and gave a giggly wave. She gave me smirking look.

Back in my room, I stripped out of Eric’s t-shirt and hung the borrowed designer dress back on its padded hanger. Then I ran a steamy bath, pouring in a healthy splash of the fragrant oil provided by the resort. The air scented with the smell of plumeria and lilies as I slipped into the water. It was soft against my skin, though there was slight sting between my legs at first that turned into a pleasant ache as I soaked.

I thought back to the night before, and my body responded quickly, flesh shivering in the warm bath. Eric wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met. And not because he was a Lord and gazillionaire. Because he was a man. Thorough with his tongue and cock. Attentive. Giving. Gorgeous. Kind. And kind of a pain in the ass.

I knew we had vastly different backgrounds and I knew we’d never see eye to eye on some matters, but that didn’t matter to me. I was pretty sure I was falling in love with Lord Eric Godfrey. I jumped out, toweled off and found a light sundress to slip into. Then I wandered around my room with stars in my eyes and Eric in my head.

I wasn’t sure how this would work with us, I didn’t know if he wanted this to work, what with him living in England, me in Chicago. Me, a broke student, him a billionaire Lord and heir. No big deal. I giggled and slipped out onto the balcony and dropped on the settee pushed up against the end.

The air was soft, and a breeze shushed through the palm fronds lulling me into a relaxed drowse.

The pounding on my door pulled me out of my dreamy daze and I jerked up. What in the world? I knew housekeeping wouldn’t beat the door down like that. Maybe something had happened. Something had happened to Eric. My heart started to beat faster. That was definitely the sound of a “something is wrong” knock. I stumbled off the settee and lurched toward the door, snatching it open hastily.

Eric was standing there.

“Eric,” I said brightly, “I thought we were meeting in the dining room. Am I late?” I turned around, searching for the clock.

“No,” he said sharply and pushed his way inside.

I shut the door and followed him in. “Well, we can hang out here for a bit before we go to lunch. Unless you’d like to order room service?” I picked up the menu from the nearby table and flipped it open.

When I looked up, expecting to see a smile on his face, he was standing perfectly still in the middle of the room, staring at me. His face was granite. His eyes were cold, and his head tilted back just slightly enough that he was looking down his nose at me. His nostrils flared like something disgusted him. Like I disgusted him. I dropped the menu and walked across the room. I stopped in front of him and laid my hand on his chest.

“Eric, what’s happened?” Concern and fear made my voice crack.

He stared down at my hand for a moment before flicking it off his jacket like you’d flick a dead fly off a window screen. Oh, my God.

“Eric…” my voice trailed off as I tried to swallow my fear.

“Where is it, Miss Tate?” he asked coldly.

“Where is what?”

“You know damned well what,” he ground out between his clenched teeth. I took a step back. I was afraid of the rage on his face and the ice in his eyes. I was afraid he was going to hurt me.

I took off for the bedroom.

I wasn’t fast enough, and he was right behind me. I stumbled and fell across the bed, and he loomed over me.

“Where is the stuff you stole from my room,” he demanded.

“I…what?” I couldn’t help it, I dissolved into giggles. Were we here again?

“Did you lose your wallet again? I’ll help you search the paths for it.”

He got in my face, inches from my nose. “Return my belongings, you opportunistic little thief. Fifteen thousand dollars is one thing, almost two million in watches and jewelry is quite another. You should have kept the money the first time. You won’t get out of this one as easily.”

I was stunned into silence, my laughter dying in my throat and replaced with a burning fear.

“I didn’t…I didn’t take anything, Eric,” I gasped out.

“Liar,” he spat at me.

The tears burned, molten and fast down my cheeks.

“Please, with the fake tears,” he scoffed, “I hope you don’t think that will work with me. I know your type.”

“I’m not a type,” I gasped through my tears.

“You are a type, my dear. The criminal type. And you’re headed to jail unless you return my things.”

“I don’t have them,” I said between clenched teeth.

“Well, let’s have a look then.” He turned and looked around the room, heading for the dresser.

Fury spiked through me. Who the hell did he think he was? I jumped up and ran over, knocking his hand away before he opened a drawer.

“Get out,” I snarled at him.

“Return my belongings,” he demanded, “before I call security and have them search your room and arrest you. I don’t know what this resort is thinking, letting this place be used a contest prize. I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen again. Look what kind of people show up when let just anyone in.” His voice was harsh and contemptuous, and it pissed me off.

“You want to search my room,” I screamed at him, “fine, let’s search my goddamned room!”

His eyes widened at the high and furious pitch of my voice, but I wasn’t done.

I snatched the entire drawer out of the dresser and threw it onto the bed. It was empty, and so were the other nine I pulled from their spots and tossed randomly, some of them barely missing Eric. I stomped to the closet and flung it open. Four sundresses hung in the huge space and my single suitcase sat by the door. I pulled the dresses off the rack and pitched them toward the bed with the drawers. Then, I dragged out my suitcase, rolled it to the bed, unzipped it, and upended over the pile of growing items. A few pairs of underwear, a swimsuit, and a pair of shoes tumbled out.

I stomped into the other room and came back with my purse. I opened it too, and dumped the contents on the bed. A brush, some gum, my passport, and two dollars fluttered out. I lobbed the purse at the pile and stood there, my hands fisted onto my hips, my breath heaving out of my lungs.

“Happy?” I snapped.

“Is that…is that all you have? All your things?” His voice was quiet as his eyes studied the small pile of belongings on the bed.

“Yes,” I said shortly.

When I looked at him again, the anger had drained from his face and something else was left behind. Something I wanted to see even less than anger. Pity.

“Well, you can see, I don’t have your stuff. I don’t know what happened to it. You don’t have the best track record of keeping hold of your belongings. I guess that’s what comes from not appreciating what you have. Where I come from, we call that privilege.” I speared him with a fierce look.

He took a step toward me and I backed away. I saw his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed thickly.

“I’m…I mean, maybe I made a mistake,” he mumbled.

“You think?” I scoffed at him. “I’m sure you can pay someone to correct it for you.”

“But if you didn’t…and I’m not saying you did anymore…if you didn’t take my things, then who did? You were the only person there. I left you standing in the foyer when I went up to shower.” His voice is confused.

“I don’t know,” I sighed wearily, “but maybe we should go to security and let them look into it.”

“Yes, I think, yes, that’s what we should do.” He looked relieved to have something to do.

I slipped on a pair of shoes, and we headed down to security. I kept my distance from Eric, standing on the far side of the elevator and walking a few steps behind him down the hallway and across the lobby.

I kept glancing at him, my heart aching in my chest. I couldn’t believe he accused me again. I couldn’t believe he’d said the things he had said to me. He called me a thief, and worse, a liar. I blinked quickly to keep fresh tears from falling. I couldn’t believe just thirty minutes ago I was trying to figure out how we’d have a long-distance relationship and now he’d accused me of being a criminal, not once, but twice in the past few days. My heart hurt with the knowledge of what he thought of me.

We reached the security head’s office. The door was closed and Eric knocked briskly. We heard a shuffling around inside and then the door opened.

“Jacob, can we have a minute of your time?” Eric asked politely.

Great, he was on a first-name basis with the head of security. This was going to go well. My stomach sank.

Jacob glanced over his shoulder and nodded before stepping into the hallway. Before the door shut, I saw a girl sitting in the chair in front the desk. She was hunched over, and her shoulders were shaking. When she turned her face to the door I saw it was tear-streaked, mascara blurring into a muddy mask around her blue eyes. It was the flirty blonde from the ferry. Who apparently was also the housekeeper I passed on the path this morning. Then the door shut, blocking out her streaked face.

“Lord Godfrey, I’m glad you’re here, I was just about to call you,” Jacob said. “Please, let’s have a seat.” He waved us toward a pair of chairs on the other side of his door.

We eased down onto the seats, careful not to bump into one another as Jacob looked at us with a heavy sigh.

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, Lord Godfrey, but young Tessa Jordan, the girl in my office, well, I caught her an hour ago with your wallet and what I’m assuming are your watches and cufflinks in her possession.”

My jaw tightened as Eric’s eyes slid quickly over me and back to Jacob.

“How did that happen? That’s why I’m here, to report the theft,” he said.

And conveniently left out the part about how he blamed me. Again.

“Tessa is the daughter of one of our most loyal and valued patrons. When her father found out she’d been shoplifting for kicks, he sent her here to work, to try and keep her out of trouble.” Jacob explained.

“I’m stunned,” Eric said quietly.

“So am I. It’s not like she needs the money, her father is a billionaire. She just does it for the thrill.” Jacob shook his head. “Anyhow, I’m going to have some paperwork for you to fill out and then I can return your things. And we’re having Tessa charged and sent away.” He shook Eric’s hand and stepped back into his office, closing the door firmly behind him. We heard Tessa begin to wail inside.

“Samantha…I…” Eric was looking at me, his face fallen and full of regret.

I didn’t bother to say anything. I stood up, turned around, and walked down the hallway.

“Samantha…wait…” I heard him call to me.

I turned into the lobby and headed toward the desk.

“What can I help you with?” the smiling concierge asked.

“I need to leave, as quickly as possible,” I said, “There’s been…a mistake.”

Chapter 10

Eric

“Are we finished here yet?”

I was twitching and anxious. I didn’t care about my watches or cufflinks anymore. I just wanted to get to Samantha. I had to try and salvage whatever it was we had together.

Jacob pushed another paper across the desk at me. “Last one, Lord Godfrey.”

I dashed my signature across the bottom and took the small paper evidence bag Jacob handed me. It was small and light. I was amazed that something so inconsequential had damaged the one real thing I’d ever had in my life.

I shoved the packet into my inner jacket pocket and hurried out of Jacob’s office before sprinting across the lobby and bypassing the elevator for the stairs. When I burst out of the stairwell door, I bee lined for Samantha’s suite. I was surprised to find it standing wide open. I stuck my head into the room.

“Hello? Samantha?” I called.

A maid stepped out of the bedroom, a bundle of towels in her arms.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Where is Miss Tate,” I demanded.

The maid shrugged, “She checked out.” She turned back to the bedroom.

“What do you mean she checked out?” I shoved past the maid into the bedroom and flung open the closet door. Her single bag was gone. “Where did she go?”

“I don’t know, mister. I’m just trying to work here. I was supposed to get off work an hour ago. But you people are always changing your minds about checking in and out. At least this lady left me a tip.” The maid gave me an exasperated look that said she’d had enough of putting up with the wealthy people who stayed at the resort.

“I’m sorry,” I said to her, “but it’s important I find Miss Tate.”

She sighed, “I don’t know, I was just sent to clean up after an early check-out, you’ll have to ask the desk.”

“Thank you…” I paused and looked at her.

“Julia,” she supplied.

“Thank you, Julia.” I pulled out my wallet and peeled a couple of bills from the money clip inside. I handed them to her. “Here, for your trouble.”

“Thanks,” I heard her call as I jogged back down the corridor.

I sprinted back down the stairs and across the tiled lobby to the reception desk at the front. An older couple stood in front me, talking with the desk clerk. I looked around to see if I could find someone else to help me. It appeared the lady behind the desk was the only person on duty. I tapped my foot impatiently. The older woman flipped through a brochure, “Now, does the spa use only all-natural oils in their massage? I can only use naturally sourced oils, nothing with a petroleum base. You don’t know? Can you be a doll and call up and ask them? I’ll wait.”

I couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Sorry, excuse me,” I put on my poshest voice and pushed past the couple, ignoring the woman’s exclamation of outrage. I read the clerk’s nametag, “Mia, I’m desperate for your help.” I gave her my dazzler smile. “I need to locate Miss Tate, room 310? It’s an emergency and most imperative that I contact her.”

“Oh, Lord Godfrey, certainly sir, give me a moment.” She smiled apologetically at the older couple and tapped at her computer.

“Seems Miss Tate made a request to check out early, which she just did. She’s on her way to the ferry as we speak, the Jeep left for the dock five minutes ago. I’m sorry, sir.”

“Thanks, Mia.” I dashed toward the large lobby doors and skidded to a halt under the portico. A concerned looking porter rushed over.

“Can I help with something, sir?”

“No. Wait, yes. I need to get to the dock, now.” I was panting.

“I’m sorry, sir the Jeep’s already left.”

“Can you radio for them to come back?” I gestured to the portable radio on the porter’s stand behind him.

“I’m afraid not sir, the driver doesn’t have a radio with him.”

I made a groan of frustration and pulled at my hair. “I need to get to the ferry!”

A loud humming noise caught my attention, and I glanced behind me to see one of the grounds staff pulling onto the far side of the portico in a golf cart. He jumped down and walked into the lobby, leaving the cart at the curb. Without a second thought, I ran across the road, jumped into the golf cart and threw it into drive. Then I was zipping down the road, shells crunching under the tires as I urged the golf cart to go faster. I pressed the pedal the floor and prayed the ferry was late coming in from Bridgetown.

I pushed the cart as fast as it would go, rakes and shovels clattering loudly in the bins behind the driver seat. I followed the trail through the jungle and finally spotted the cove as I came over a rise. The ferry, long and sleek, was moored at the end of the dock. I could see deckhands loading the last of the luggage from the dock and pulling loose the lines anchoring the boat to the dock.

By the time I reached the end of the pier, the ferry was starting to back away. I jumped out of the golf cart and barreled down the dock, the wooden planks clattering under my feet.

“Samantha, Samantha!” I screamed, only to have my voice drowned out by the loud baritone blast of the ship’s horn.

The bow of the ship had just glided past the edge of the dock when I skidded to a halt at the end. Then I saw Samantha’s wavy hair appear over the edge of the rail. I saw my name form on her lips and watched as her hand brushed at the corner of her eye.

I dove into the water.

I didn’t have any thought except to reach Samantha as the green-blue waters closed over my head. I sputtered to the surface and saw the ship pulling even further away. A small group of people had gathered at the rail, pointing and shouting at me. Samantha stood with her hands wrapped tightly around the rail, watching.

I took off my shoes, not caring that a thousand dollars of custom made leather was sinking to the bottom of the Caribbean. Then I started swimming towards the ship.

My arms sliced through the water and I kept my gaze on the ferry. Light chops of water from the boat’s wake smacked at me, but I powered through them, Samantha my destination.

The people at the rail were cheering me on, urging me to swim faster. Finally, my fingers touched the sleek fiberglass hull.

A life preserver was dropped over the side and I wound my hands through the rope as it was hauled up. Hands grasped at me and pulled me over the railing, where I doubled over and dragged long, cleansing breaths into my lungs. And then I stood up.

Samantha was watching me.

I took a step towards her. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes wary.

“Samantha…” I could hear the pleading fear in my voice. I was afraid to lose her. “Please…”

“Are you insane, Eric?” Her eyes were wide and her voice disbelieving.

“Only for you.”

Our small audience aww’ed.

Her lip twitched. “That’s so corny.”

“I don’t care. It’s true.”

“Eric,” she sighed, “I…like you. God, more than I want to admit, actually. But we’re not right for each other. As evidenced by the fact that you keep accusing me of stealing from you.”

I thought the small crowd hissed at me.

I took another step toward her and held my hands out, palms up. “I’m an utter moron. I don’t know how to reiterate that enough. You’re the…the…most amazing person I’ve met, ever, anywhere, in my entire life. And I’ve been around the world. You blow the other seven billion some odd people out of the water.”

“Eric…” my name trailed off her lips, sad and disappointed. I was afraid I was losing her.

I stepped forward again and reached out, catching the tips of her fingers. I tugged at them, and she moved forward. When I slipped my arms around her shoulders, she let me.

I nuzzled into her wind-scented hair. “Just listen. I’m sorry. I’d rip out my heart and give it to you if I could. Since I can’t, I’ll give you anything else you want. Cars? A house? Done. Money? It’s yours. Trips, jewels, clothes, anything. Just, please, please, for the sake of all that’s holy, please forgive me, Samantha. Please, give me another chance. One that I promise I won’t waste. Please?” My voice broke and my throat tightened around the last word.

“You can’t buy me, Eric,” she said quietly.

I pulled back and stared down into her liquid amber eyes. “I’m not trying to. Money is all I have to give.”

“I don’t want your money.”

My heart broke then, a billion sharp, shattering pieces shooting through my chest. The pain ripped through my body and dug deep into my soul. She didn’t want me.

“I just want you, Eric. Just you. None of the Lord stuff, none of the money, none of the bullshit.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do. You’re so much more than your money.” Her voice was warmer than the ocean breeze and sweeter than the scent of island flowers.

“Samantha, I love you.” I breathed and pressed my lips to hers. Her mouth yielded beneath mine, opening to let me ease my tongue over hers, to taste her deep and slow. I threaded my fingers through the waves of her hair and pulled her into me.

She broke our kiss and pulled back. “You’re soaking wet.”

“I know,” I murmured, moving over her lips again.

“Now so am I.”

I glanced down at her. Her white sundress was molded across her, plastered by the ocean water from my suit. Her gorgeous nipples pressed against the now sheer material in peachy peaks. I fought against the urge to nip at them with my teeth.

“I can’t believe you jumped off the dock. You really are insane,” she said wonderingly.

“You make me that way. I couldn’t let you go without trying.”

“How are we going to make this work?”

“Looks like I’ll be searching for a flat in Chicago. Unless you’d like to study in the UK. I’m an Oxford alum. The entire family is, actually.”

“Wait, wait,” she pushed away from me, “I don’t want you to get me into university or buy me a house or anything like that.”

“Samantha, please let me help you. I have so much. I’m not trying to buy your affection or place you under any obligations towards me. I just want to make your life easier. It’s the least I can do for the way I’ve treated you. Here.” I pulled the packet from Jacob out of my sodden jacket pocket and emptied the watches and cufflinks onto my hand. I held them out to Samantha. “You can have these.”

“I don’t want them. Sell them and give the money towards feeding foster children.”

“You are remarkable. Can I at least help with your tuition? I can do that much, can’t I? Will that help?”

She chewed on her lip and I saw her considering my offer. “Okay,” she finally said, “but just with my tuition. If that’s covered I can manage my rent on my own.”

“Consider it done,” I grinned at her, happy to be able to help her and knowing I’d help her even more as time went by.

We moved to the rail and I put my arms around and pulled her close, resting my chin on the top of her head as she snuggled into my chest.

The waves churned around the back of the boat, lacy foam and cerulean waters. Diamond Cove moved further and further away from us, its sparkling white sand beaches and jungle tip ridges receding as the ferry carried us away to our future. Together.

About The Authors

Roxy Sinclaire writes steamy, suspenseful romantic stories as the main genre, and this includes a variety of different topics. Some of these include dark romances, action packed romances, mafia romances, and many more. She currently works in customer relations in New York City, but is trying to fulfill her passion in writing and eventually have her dream job become a reality.

Zara Zenia is the pen name of Roxy Sinclaire, and writes mainly science fiction romance!

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Also by Roxy Sinclaire

Pass To Win Series:

Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 1)

Line of Scrimmage: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Book 2)

Between The Tackles: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 3)

Fourth and Goal: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Book 4)

Game Winning Catch: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (Book 5)

Omerta Series:

Dirty Indiscretions: A Dark Mafia Romance (Book 1)

Her Protection: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 2)

Deadly Ink: A Dark Mafia Romance (Book 3)

His Revenge: A Mafia Revenge Romance (Book 4)

His Betrayal: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Book 5)

Secret Agent Romance Series:

Lethal Seduction: A CIA Romantic Suspense (Book 1)

Deadly Seduction: A Secret Agent Romance (Book 2)

Toxic Seduction (Book 3)

Standalone Novels:

Dirty Money: A Dark Mafia Romance

Object Me: A Bad Boy Lawyer Romance

Dirty Fighter: A Bad Boy MMA Romance

Fast and Loaded: A Bad Boy Sports Romance

Tempting Me: A Bad Boy Romance

The Devil’s Dream: A Dark Romance

Trapped In His World: A Dark Romance

Deceived By The Hitman: A Bad Boy Hitman Romance

Worth the Risk

A Solace of Secrets Novella

EmKay Connor

Falling in love could jeopardize her sanity, her sanctuary and her secrets.

Dara Lockwood doesn’t do commitment. She used to be the queen of commitment, but that was before she was implicated in a sex scandal involving her fiancé, an ambitious senator with presidential aspirations. After losing any chance of tenure and a faculty position at one of Washington DC’s most prestigious universities, and exhausted by the constant glare of the media spotlight, Dara traded notoriety for anonymity.

Five years living on a tiny Caribbean island managing the Soggy Dollar tiki bar has dulled Dara’s anger but not her distrust of men. The occasional one night stand—“first names only”— with a tourist just passing through is working just fine until the arrival of Jack Wyatt.

Tall, dark and seriously sexy, the man is a lethal combination of raw masculinity and shadowy vulnerability. When one night of explosive passion turns into one week, Dara is tempted to reveal all. Something about Jack makes her want to trust him, not only with the truth, but with her heart. Will it be worth the risk when Dara discovers she isn’t the only one with secrets?

Chapter 1

“Good morning, Cedella.”

Dara Lockwood greeted a wizened woman who was shaking out handfuls of feed to a dozen or so chickens clustered around her ankles. Their feathers shone glossy—ebony and scarlet. Something about a Caribbean sunrise made colors richer and more vibrant than anything she’d ever seen back in Virginia. Even the faded pastels of the old woman’s home glowed rose-pink and banana-yellow against the vivid green wall of foliage a few yards beyond the bare yard.

Wiping her hands together before planting them on narrow hips, Cedella Redfoo watched the herky-jerky motion of the chickens as they pecked at the corn and seed before acknowledging her visitor. “Heya, wh’appening?”

It had taken some time for Dara to become attuned to the lilting accent of the native islanders. Now it was a familiar cadence that echoed the sleepy pace of life on Pequeña Esquina.

“I’m out of eggs,” Dara said. “Please tell me you haven’t promised this morning’s lot to Miss Francy.”

“Nah, I don’t hold with such a thing as promising eggs that haven’t been laid yet.” A wide smile with more empty spaces than teeth creased Cedella’s sepia-toned skin. She gestured toward a basket heaped with brown-shelled eggs on the edge of her rickety front porch. “You’re the early bird. Help yourself.”

Dara pulled a net sack from the back pocket of her cargo shorts and counted out a week’s worth of eggs, then tucked a few bills under the basket. “I’m surprised Francy didn’t send Bastian down already. The guesthouse is full up. Again.”

Bastian and Francy Luna owned and operated the Blue Moon Beach House. Part inn, part boardinghouse, it was the most popular choice for visitors to the island because of its modern amenities—air conditioning and spotty Wi-Fi—and Miss Francy’s cooking. Once or twice a month Dara stopped by for a bowl of Francy’s legendary arroz con leche and an espresso.

“Again.” Cedella’s black button eyes glinted knowingly. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, chil’.”

Tourism was a double-edged sword, in Dara’s opinion. Yes, the income was a benefit. Many of the islanders, like Cedella, managed to scrape by but the extra dollars helped. Yet too many tourists felt like an invasion. Most wanted the commercialized version of paradise—fruity drinks with paper parasols delivered by smiling servers in tidy uniforms as they lounged under blue and white striped cabanas on the beach. And most were inordinately curious, wanting to know who she was, why she’d come to Pequeña Esquina and what kept her there.

She knew Cedella and the Lunas and others on the island wondered the same thing, but there was an understanding, especially amongst the expats, that you didn’t ask about folks’ pasts. If they wanted to share, they would.

Some did. She didn’t.

“I like things the way they are.” Dara stared down the hard-packed dirt road that led back into town, and beyond that, the endless expanse of turquoise ocean. She resented anything that reminded her of the life she’d left behind.

“Every day has a sunrise and a sunset,” Cedella said sagely.

“Which means…?” Dara arched a brow.

“Nothing stays the same.” There was a touch of sadness to her smile. “Not the bad. Not the good.”

“This conversation is getting way too philosophical,” Dara said. “Especially since I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“Get on with ya, then.” Cedella waved and trundled toward the house, shuffling past the chickens.

“Do you need anything from town?” Dara shifted the bag of eggs to her other hand, careful not to jostle them. “I’m stopping by the market this afternoon. Pinky should be back by then with his catch of the day.”

“Thanks, chil’, but no need. I’m taking the rest of the eggs and a batch of salted codfish down to Sam later on.”

Samuel Tanno, an islander about the same age as Cedella and her unofficial beau, sold fruits and vegetables he raised on his small farm at the open-air marketplace.

“Stop by the Soggy Dollar if you get a chance. Quint ordered a bottle of that port you like. We can toast the sunset.” Dara wondered if her old friend heard the sarcasm in her voice. She frowned, unhappy with the negative shift her mood had taken.

“Sunrise, sunset,” Cedella scoffed. “We’ll toast the moment. That’s what matters.”

The moment.

“That’s what matters,” Dara muttered as she approached her beach-front bungalow. The modest wooden structure was her haven, and just the sight of it was enough to soothe the agitation stirred up by her conversation with Cedella.

Built on stilts and covered by a metal roof to reflect the heat, it nestled among palm trees and fragrant flowering shrubs where the sand met the jungle. She slowly mounted the wooden stairs that led to the wraparound verandah, pushing away painful thoughts of the scandal and betrayal that had driven her to flee Virginia and hide out on a remote Caribbean island. This wasn’t the life she’d imagined for herself, but it was…enough.

She opened the French doors and cool morning air rushed in behind her. The house was only four rooms—a combination kitchen/dining room, living room, bedroom and bath. All but the bathroom faced the ocean. With the doors flung wide, the living space flowed out onto the verandah, making the house seem larger than it actually was. Flicking on the portable radio that sat on her kitchen counter, Dara tuned into a station that broadcast from the Nicaraguan mainland, forty miles west of Pequeña Esquina. She hummed along to a Jimmy Buffet song while putting away most of the eggs, leaving out a couple for her breakfast. She set a pot of water to boil and measured out coffee into a French press. Fifteen minutes later she sat down to a plate of scrambled eggs, rice, fresh papaya and steaming black coffee.

A sharp bark interrupted her first bite.

“Sorry, Dude,” she yelled. “You’ll have to wait to get yours.”

She heard another loud yip, and then a male voice she didn’t recognize.

“Wait for what?”

Startled, Dara rose from the table and peered outside. A muscular guy wearing red board shorts and dark sunglasses stared in her direction from the beach. Sweat gleamed on his heaving chest and abs. One of the tourists out for a morning jog.

She padded out onto the verandah and said loudly, “Sorry. I wasn’t talking to you.”

He glanced left, then right. “I don’t see anyone else out here.”

“Dude!” Dara whistled, the shrill sound renting the gentle rasp of palm fronds shifting in the breeze.

A scruffy mutt crept out from under the house and planted itself below Dara, a short bristly tail sweeping an arc in the sand.

The guy sauntered in her direction. “Ah, now I get it.” He crouched a few feet from the dog. “He’s a cutie. Reminds me of Toto from The Wizard of Oz. Hey, little Dude.”

The dog’s tail sped up, but he ignored the guy.

“Talk about dedication. That little fellow only has eyes for you.” Standing, the stranger shoved his sunglasses back on his head and crossed his arms. “By the way, I’m Jack. I was just on my way back to the—”

“Blue Moon Beach House.” Dara couldn’t help but appreciate the flex and release of his biceps. She quickly inventoried the rest of him: spiky dark hair that gleamed auburn in the sun, brown eyes that seemed simultaneously guileless and hooded, and a fit build. His stance was relaxed and confident without giving off any kind of vibe that he was posturing to impress her. A second, closer glance revealed lines at the corner of his eyes, putting her assessment of his age closer to mid-thirties than late twenties.

He laughed, a sexy rumble that made Dara feel like they’d just exchanged a private joke. She shivered. All of her senses went on high alert.

“I guess there aren’t too many places for visitors to stay, huh?”

“Accommodations aren’t usually in high demand. We don’t get a lot of tourists on Pequeña Esquina. There’s not much to do here so most of the visitors only stay for a day or two. Mostly it’s folks who like to scuba dive or snorkel.”

“There must be something appealing about the island,” Jack said. “I’ve met several people who obviously aren’t natives. Would I be wrong to put you in that category?”

Although the question was intrusive, her attraction outweighed her usual reticence. It had been several months since she’d enjoyed the company of a sexy guy. If Jack was traveling alone, he might be fun for a night or two.

“I came for two weeks and never left,” she admitted.

His gaze swept across the white sand and blue-green water. “It’s gorgeous. But aside from the scenery, what’s the draw for a single”—he raised an eyebrow in question and she nodded—“woman? Most of your contemporaries are busy building careers and starting families. This is a world away from Starbucks, carpools and kiddie playdates.”

It was also a world away from the man who’d broken her heart, derailed her career and ruined her life with a political scandal that obsessed the American public for months.

She remembered how relentlessly the media had hounded her—lying in wait outside her Alexandria apartment, pestering her students for interviews, publishing nothing but speculation and conjecture when she refused to go on camera. When Tony Esposito, her ex-fiancé and a disgraced ex-senator, implied she’d not only known about but participated in his affairs with prostitutes, the backlash was devastating. The president of Edgemont University, who’d all but promised her a tenured position and had boasted about having one of the youngest and brightest English professors on staff, notified her she was being terminated with a terse text message. Her neighbors signed a petition asking that she be evicted on grounds of “illegal and immoral” activity, regardless of the fact that charges had not been brought against her and the only evidence of wrongdoing was Tony’s slanderous lies.

Tony’s betrayal robbed Dara of everything she’d worked years to accomplish—a successful career, a family, a home—but the worst loss was her ability, her willingness, to trust. For an orphan who’d bounced between foster homes, a young girl who never had parents to love and protect her, a lonely teenager who never fit in and never belonged, opening her heart and soul to Tony had been harrowing and joyful. To have her trust shattered in such a despicable manner…

She would never, ever put herself at risk like that again.

Dara looked down at Jack who seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer. God, he was sexy. Desire, hot and potent, pooled low in her belly as she imagined ocean water beading on his skin as he emerged, naked, from the waves. His conversation might have been casual, but she recognized the interest in his eyes. Yeah, he was smoking hot, but she knew a girl could get burned playing with fire.

“I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay,” she said coolly. “If I don’t see you again, safe travels.” Turning on her heel, she walked back into the house, far enough back into the kitchen that she could no longer see Jack standing on the sand.

He mumbled something she couldn’t make out, punctuated by a friendly bark from Dude. Allowing enough time to pass so that he’d be well on his way back to town, Dara eased out onto the verandah. At first she thought the pang in her stomach was hunger since she hadn’t finished eating, but then she realized it was disappointment. God knew she didn’t believe in love—at first, second or third sight—but she did believe in lust and she’d been drawn to Jack. She suspected sex with him would be satisfying. No awkward fumbling around in the dark. Something about the way he moved and spoke, confident but not arrogant, indicated a strong sense of self. She’d not caught much of his reaction to her brusque dismissal, but he’d seemed almost amused.

Leaning against the wooden railing, she bent forward, trying to catch a glimpse of him. “Come back,” she whispered, shaking her head at her fickle mood.

The scrabble of claws on wood snagged her attention, and she saw Dude headed up the steps to the verandah.

“Down,” she ordered. Ignoring the mutt’s pitiful expression, she repeated the command. Dude reluctantly returned to his spot on the sand.

It was better not to get attached, she reminded herself. It didn’t matter if it was a man or a dog or an old woman. Love was a risk she wasn’t willing to take.

She really hoped she didn’t see Jack again. Sometimes sticking to decisions was tough, even when it was the right thing to do.

Chapter 2

Oh, you’ll definitely be seeing me again, Jack thought as he headed away from Dara Lockwood’s bungalow. In no hurry to return to the guesthouse where he’d checked in yesterday after arriving on the afternoon flight that ferried tourists to and from the island, he paced over the damp sand and considered the woman he’d just met.

At first he wasn’t sure it was her. In the photo he’d been given, she had long hair. Her face was rounder, her eyes sparkled and her smile seemed almost shy. She’d been leaning into the man who stood next to her, one hand resting on his chest, the other curved around his waist. She looked young and dreamy and hopeful.

What a difference five years made. None of the softness remained, not physically or emotionally, from what he’d seen. She’d thinned out. Her tank top revealed toned arms and shoulders while lean calves were visible beneath the baggy cargo shorts. She’d cut off her hair, too. The short, wavy style flattered the shape of her face, highlighting angular cheekbones and wide hazel eyes.

Her initial greeting had been friendly enough, but her body language sent conflicting messages.

Don’t come too close.

Come closer.

Go far, far away.

According to her bio, Dara Lockwood was thirty-two, held a Ph.D. in English and had been a faculty member at one of Washington D.C.s most prestigious universities before the shit hit the fan. No father was listed on her birth certificate and after her mother was killed by a drunk driver, nine-year-old Dara had been dumped into the foster care system.

It was easy to see how a kid like that, an impressionable young woman desperate to believe in fairy tales and happy ever afters, would fall for someone like Senator Tony Esposito. Handsome, influential, ambitious. Also ruthless, selfish and deceitful.

Jack wondered if any of that starry-eyed idealism remained behind Dara’s guarded exterior. Launching into a run, he chastised himself. It didn’t matter if Dara Lockwood was romantic or jaded or none of the above. What mattered was that it was his job to convince her to return to D.C. and failure wasn’t an option.

“Who else wants to read their haiku out loud?” Dara smiled when several hands popped up amid the group of students in front of her. Ranging in age from five to twelve, the youngsters attended the island’s small school where she volunteered two days a week. “Tuesday, let’s hear yours.”

Seven-year-old Tuesday Belmonte was the niece of March Belmonte, the other bartender who worked at the Soggy Dollar. Unlike her uncle who was built like a tank, Tuesday was tall for her age and slender. Both had striking green eyes, sun-streaked russet hair and strong features, as did March’s younger sister, Tuesday’s mother, December.

The girl stood and slowly read each line. “Oval like an egg / Green mountain in the middle / Island where I live.”

“Very good,” Dara said, joining the other students in a brief smattering of applause. “That’s a great description of Pequeña Esquina. Jose, what about you?”

By the time Jose and four other students recited their poems, the class was over. Dara collected their worksheets. “I can’t wait to read the rest of these. I’ll bring them back next week when we work on acrostic poems.”

“’Crostic sorta rhymes with hockey stick,” Jose observed.

“Close.” Dara laughed. “It’s ‘acrostic’. You pick a word and use each letter in that word to start a sentence in the poem.”

The students’ regular teacher, Ellen Landerly, was watching from the doorway. As the kids called out “thanks” and “goodbye,” Dara quickly slid past the older woman to avoid becoming ensnared in one of her hugs. In her mid-fifties with short gray hair and warm blue eyes, Ellen’s picture was in the dictionary under “motherly.” Her husband, Robert Landerly, owned and managed a small mercantile that sold all manner of goods. On weekends the inventory included Ellen’s baked goods. Originally from a small town in Kansas, the couple relocated to the island after Robert won a chunk of money from a scratch-off lottery ticket about ten years ago.

“You’re wonderful with them,” Ellen murmured, capturing one of Dara’s hands in hers. “I really wish you’d reconsider our offer. We could use you on a full-time basis.”

She hadn’t been offered a job because of her credentials—no one on the island knew about her past—but because the school needed another teacher. Any adult with enough patience to deal with kids and enough smarts to provide basic instruction was qualified. Five days a week with bright, curious, affectionate kids?

Dara wasn’t interested.

“I’ll see you next week.” Dara gently withdrew her hand and hitched the strap of her satchel higher on one shoulder.

She left the whitewashed clapboard building and the sound of children’s voices behind. The walk through town only took about ten minutes unless she had stops to make. She passed the post office, waving at Sarge Simpkins, the postmaster.

In all her time on the island, she’d not sent or received a single piece of mail. No one knew where she was, which was the reason she’d chosen to live here. She’d transferred her funds from an American bank to an anonymous account in the Caymans and used most of her savings to build her bungalow. She had no family, no friends, no job and no ties to her old life. It might have seemed a high price to pay for peace of mind except that Tony had already stolen what mattered most.

A quick in and out at the bakery to pick up a spicy meat pie for dinner later, followed by a stop at the market to purchase fresh produce for the bar and then she was on to the Soggy Dollar.

The bar was a ramshackle hut on the beach. It had been wiped out twice by hurricanes since she’d come to the island and several more before that. Each time it was reassembled and painted a pastel hue. Streaks of flamingo-pink, canary-yellow and lime-green peeked through the topmost layer, a weathered turquoise-blue. White shutters along three sides could be lifted and lowered to secure the rectangular interior where the bartenders—her, March and Quint, the owner— mixed drinks and prepped basic menu items. An assortment of bar stools ringed the perimeter of the open-air structure, while a wooden deck extending along one side held tables and chairs. A thatched roof kept the place dry and shady.

She and March worked alternate days, opening up mid-afternoon and closing down when the place emptied out. She groped in her satchel for the key and let herself into the hot, dim space. The first order of business was opening the shutters and brushing sand off the bar stools. The next was cutting up lemons and limes, oranges and pineapples for the fruity cocktails the tourists preferred, but first she poured herself a tall, cold glass of water. Perched on one of the stools, Dara sipped her drink and scanned the beach.

The group near the water looked like a bunch of college kids. Too young to include Jack, she supposed. A few were playing volleyball, while a pair of guys threw a Frisbee back and forth. College kids liked to drink, which meant they were in for a busy night. Pequeña Esquina and other rustic islands were becoming more and more popular with young travelers. There’d been some talk about building a lodge on the mountain that sat in the center of the island, but so far it was just talk. She hoped it stayed that way.

“I don’t pay you to sit on your ass, young lady.” Quint’s sandpaper voice announced his arrival.

“And you’re late, old man.” Dara gulped down the rest of her water and rounded the wooden bar to join her boss behind the counter.

“I’m on island time.” One corner of his mouth quirked upwards.

They exchanged the same lines almost every time they worked together, the old joke underscored by mutually fond feelings.

Quint, a gruff cabbie from New York City who’d lived on the island longer than any of the other expats, took it upon himself to look out for her when she showed up five years ago. He’d helped Dara arrange for construction of her house and offered her a job. He was probably the closest thing she had to a best friend, mostly because he never asked questions.

Six foot plus with a barrel chest and broad shoulders, Quint looked closer to sixty than eighty. His ruddy complexion, blue, blue eyes and thick shock of white hair reflected his Irish heritage, as did his penchant for whiskey and dirty limericks. He had the mouth of a sailor and the heart of a saint.

He pulled out a scarred white acrylic cutting board and passed it to her. “I finished my homework assignment.”

“I don’t remember giving you one,” she said, grabbing a lime from the basket on the counter.

“The Japanese poem thingy. Isn’t that what you’re working on with the kids?”

The clink of bottles combined with the thud of her knife on the cutting board as Quint assessed the levels in each to see what needed restocking.

“Haiku,” she said.

“Gesundheit.”

“Very funny.”

“Well, I got a haiku for you.”

“I’m afraid to hear it except I can’t wait to see how many bad words you managed to use.” She scooped the lime wedges into a plastic container, the tangy scent of citrus tickling her nose.

“There are no bad words in poetry,” he said archly.

“Okay, give it to me.”

He straightened the faded Grateful Dead t-shirt he wore beneath a tattered Hawaiian shirt and cleared his throat. “Plush plump creamy mounds / Divided by a valley / Damn I love those tits.”

She burst out laughing, then ticked off the syllables on her fingertips. “Technically it qualifies, but don’t quit your day job.”

“You wound my creative genius,” Quint grumbled. “I had aspirations of becoming the next poet laureate.”

Dara paused, her knife halfway through an orange. “You never cease to amaze me. What else are you hiding behind that dirty old drunk persona?”

“We all have secrets, m’dear.” Quint waggled his bushy brows, but didn’t elaborate.

That was one of the things Dara appreciated most about him: unconditional acceptance. They respected each other’s boundaries and didn’t get bent out of shape when a line was accidently crossed. He’d made it clear he was good with how much, or how little, she wanted to share. She’d been tempted to confide in him a few times but then remembered what happened when she’d trusted Tony.

They worked in companionable silence for several minutes until the prep work was finished. Quint handed Dara a wet soapy rag, and she wiped up the counter. After rinsing the rag and wringing out the extra water, she gave a quick swipe to the scuffed surface on the customer side of the bar.

She wandered over to join Quint who leaned against a palm tree, smoking his daily cigar. He observed the college kids who’d started to gather up their things, then checked his watch.

“Half past the hour,” he grunted.

“No, the girls will take at least an hour.” Dara dropped to the sand, legs crossed at the ankles, and leaned back on her arms.

“The usual?”

She heard, rather than saw, Quint exhale a cloud of smoke.

“Of course.”

“Who’s ahead?”

“I am. The last time you accurately predicted what time the first customer would arrive was more than two weeks ago.”

“Shit. No wonder I have dishpan hands.”

The bet was another of their traditions. Whoever lost had dish duty for the rest of the shift.

“Don’t be a sore loser, old man.”

“Just stating a fact, young lady.”

Eyes closed, head tilted back so the breeze caressed her neck and shoulders, Dara remembered Cedella’s words: The moment. That’s what matters.

Moments like this reassured Dara she’d made the right decision. It wasn’t the life she’d envisioned, but it wasn’t bad.

“Did you hear Bastian and Francy got an offer for their guesthouse?”

Her eyes flew open. “What? When?”

“It was on the agenda at the council meeting last night. A six-figure offer from a property development firm based in Miami. They want to raze the Blue Moon and put up a hotel.”

“Can they do that?”

“With approval from the council, sure.”

“They can’t sell.” She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around her knees. “That place has been here forever. Just like the Soggy Dollar.”

“They can and they did. Bas and Francy want to move to the mainland to be closer to their kids and grands.” Quint inhaled deeply. “The developers also submitted a proposal to buy acreage on the mountain.”

That announcement pretty much ruined the moment. In fact, Dara wasn’t too optimistic about the rest of the day. Her Caribbean sanctuary was being commercialized. Developers meant regulations and documentation. Sooner or later she’d be caught in the paper trail. Maybe she should change her name or ask Quint if he knew where she could buy a new identity. The odds of a reporter tracking her down after all this time were slim, but she wasn’t taking any chances.

She stared blindly out towards the horizon, dark thoughts circling like hungry buzzards.

“Here they come,” Quint said finally. “Your winning streak is over. You got dishes.”

Chapter 3

Jack didn’t see Dara for the rest of the day, but that was intentional. Their earlier encounter rocked him, more than he wanted to admit. He’d arrived on the island with a preconceived notion of who Dara Lockwood was and he’d been way off-base. He’d been told she was brilliant, very intellectual, very book smart, but impressionable and naïve, easily manipulated. He expected that to make his job easier, a quick in and out so he could move on to the next assignment.

The woman he’d met was complex. Contradictory. He had a knack for reading people. It was one of the things that made him good at his job. From their brief exchange, he’d revised his opinion of what kind of person she was. Personable and easily engaged, but wary in how she kept distance between them. Compassionate in that she fed a stray dog, but detached in that she hadn’t straight out adopted the mutt. He’d tuned into her sexual awareness of him, as well as the exact moment she yanked it back. Her brush-off hit him like a bucket of water pulled from the Arctic Ocean, but he was well schooled in hiding his emotions.

She had serious trust issues. That could make it tough to get close to her.

He couldn’t afford to sit around and psychoanalyze his target. He had a job to do so the first order of business had been reconnaissance. After a late breakfast at the guesthouse, he’d headed out on one of their loaner bicycles to scope out the island and see what he could pick up from the locals.

From studying a map, he knew the island covered an area of roughly three and a half miles. It claimed a population just under five hundred, with most of the residents living at the island’s southern-most tip. Pequeña Esquina was mostly jungle, except for the town, the sandy shoreline, a narrow runway and a stunning plateau that jutted out halfway up the southern slope of the mountain at its center.

It took him two hours to circle the island along a narrow perimeter road. He passed a few other travelers, most on bikes, a few in rust-pocked golf carts and a single 1956 Ford pickup. He came across several farms that had been hacked out of the jungle, one of which had a fruit stand set up near the road where he purchased a container of fresh coconut water. Most of the island was unsettled, although it might not remain so. He’d overhead conversation at breakfast indicating the Blue Moon Beach House was being sold.

Back at the guesthouse, he parked the bike and set off on foot to explore. This was where he hoped to pick up intel on Dara. The most current information in the file he’d been given was five years old. What had she been doing since then? One of the questions at the top of his list was who, if anyone, she was currently involved with.

The town surprised him. Many of the two-story buildings were shabby, but he sensed it was due more to lack of resources than disinterest. Most of them were white, but here and there were splashes of the tropical palette he’d come to associate with the Caribbean. Flower boxes overflowed with brightly colored flowers and the window panes sparkled. Several had their doors and windows flung open invitingly. Music, a mix of reggae, mariachi and classic jazz, blended with the melodic patois of the islanders.

He noted signs for a school, a church, a barrister, a medical office including a dentist and pharmacy, a seamstress, even an accountant. The busiest shops were a bakery, a general store-type place called Landerly’s Mercantile and an art gallery. A dive shop adjacent to a wooden pier that extended out over the ocean and an open-air market at the opposite end of town were also bustling. A bar on the beach called the Soggy Dollar was shuttered; a hand-painted wooden plank announced it opened at “five o’clock somewhere”.

Pequeña Esquina—which meant “small corner,” he’d learned, because pirates had used it as a hideout and place to stash their treasure—boasted an eclectic population. A friendly market vendor told him the English-speaking islanders were Creole. When he asked about expats, the old man said about a third of the population came from somewhere else. The man’s friendly candor vanished when Jack asked about single American women on the island. He ran into the same reaction from others until he wandered into Landerly’s Mercantile.

“Welcome,” Robert said, a broad smile creasing his tanned face as they traded introductions. “Taking in the sights?”

“I am.” Jack looked around the store. “You offer a little bit of everything here.”

“This is as close as you’ll get to a big box store in the Caribbean,” Robert joked.

As he was deftly pumping the shopkeeper, Jack saw Dara exit the school building across the street. Through the window, he watched her walk out of sight. Robert noticed and gave a knowing chuckle.

“If you’re traveling alone and looking for company, visit the Soggy Dollar later this afternoon. That’s Dara, one of the bartenders. If she’s not interested, she can introduce you around.”

“Does she have kids?” Jack nodded toward the school.

“No, but she should.” Robert frowned. “My wife teaches at the school and said Dara’s a natural with them. She helps out a couple days a week. They offered her a full-time position, but so far no one’s been able to convince her to take it.”

“So she’s a resident here,” Jack said casually.

“Oh, yeah. Moved here about five years ago. She has a place on the beach, maybe a mile or so from town.” Robert’s eyes took on an unfocused look as he thought back. “Poor kid. Ellen—that’s my missus—has tried to get close to her, but Dara’s one of those ‘still waters run deep’ sorts. She really kept to herself at first, acted all skittish and panicky anytime someone said as much as howdy. Now she’s friendly enough. Heck, the kids love her and she knows just about everyone on the island, but I always get the feeling it’s a front. Like she’s only sharing a teeny-tiny part of herself with folks and the rest is off-limits. D’ya know what I mean?”

Jack muttered something that passed for agreement. A customer came in just then, giving him an excuse to say goodbye.

“Maybe I’ll see you around town again before you leave,” Robert said. “And don’t forget—check out the Soggy Dollar. Things really get going about sundown.”

Jack waved and slipped out of the store, looking both ways but not catching sight of Dara.

No worries, he thought. Thanks to Robert, he knew exactly where to find her.

The Soggy Dollar glowed like a nuclear testing site against the dark sky. As Jack got closer, he realized the fireball affect was the result of multiple overlapping strands of tiny lights, some white and some multicolored. The noise blaring from the bar was a cacophony of laughter, Latino pop music, and a sports broadcast.

The place was packed, but he found an empty stool between a young man with curly blond hair who was throwing back shots with a group of friends and a brown-skinned old woman who couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. She was laying out tarot cards from a deck clutched in her gnarled fist.

The bartender, a tall, grizzled old guy with messy snow-white hair stopped in front of Jack and bellowed, “We got us a virgin.”

A cheer that sounded like “Pop his cherry!” went up around him, followed by applause. Behind the large man, Dara turned, her eyes widening when she recognized Jack.

“What was that all about?” Jack asked the bartender.

“Aw, we do that to all the first-timers. It sort of breaks the ice and makes ’em feel like part of the gang.” He reached out a beefy hand and they shook. “Name’s Quint Madigan. I’m the proprietor of this grand establishment. What can I get you? The first one’s on the house.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jack said.

Quint’s chuckle sounded like gravel rumbling in a cement mixer. “It’s our way of making up for the virgin thing.”

Jack ordered a beer and the icy bottle appeared as if by magic. He raised it in a salute to Quint who moved on to take another order.

Unlike most bars where the patrons kept to themselves, this one seemed more like a party where everyone knew each other. On a nearby patch of sand, he recognized his hosts, Bastian and Francy Luna, who were demonstrating dance moves to several women who looked to be in their early twenties. When the young women caught on, patrons watching clapped loudly. Another mixed group—islanders and visitors—played darts, aiming at a dartboard hung on a palm tree. At a table in the corner, a poker game was in play.

Night had tempered the day’s heat and humidity, but it was still warm. There was just the hint of a breeze, but wide-paddled ceiling fans beneath the bar’s thatched roof kept the air moving. The good mood and balmy ambiance left Jack feeling mellow and relaxed. He lowered the beer bottle to the bar and pushed it away. He was here on a job, not a vacation, and needed to keep his focus sharp.

“Would you like me to read your cards?”

Jack realized the old woman to his left had asked him a question. She smiled, a gap-toothed grin, and said, “I tell you what you need to know. Now. Very important.”

“You mean tell my fortune if I cross your palm with silver?” Jack wondered if this was how she fleeced the tourists.

Her smile faded, but she held his gaze. “No silver. No fortune-telling. You are here on a search, but you are looking for the wrong thing. I tell you what to look for so you find the treasure.”

Treasure hunting was one of Pequeña Esquina’s tourist draws. Over breakfast, Francy Luna told him there were several wrecks popular with divers, and, according to one island legend, a pirate named Longjohn le Duc hid a chest full of gold coins in a cave on the island but was killed in a battle with the British Navy before reclaiming it.

The old con artist was good, Jack admitted. Not asking for payment up front was probably meant to disarm him so he wouldn’t say no but once she’d told his fortune, he’d feel obligated to pay.

“The treasure that awaits you is not gold and gemstones,” she said, the lilt in her voice beguiling. “It is richer than that, but you will not find it if you do not know what to look for.”

At that moment Jack looked up and locked eyes with Dara. An electric current ran through him, starting at the top of his head, coiling around his spine, turning his legs to jelly and making his flesh prickle. Dara flinched, as if she’d been hit by the same powerful jolt. She swayed and grabbed the countertop to steady herself. Her eyes darkened, fear and amazement swirling in the tawny depths.

Disconcerted, Jack pulled his gaze away and tightened his grip on the edge of the bar. He turned toward the old woman. “Sure, okay. Go ahead.”

She handed him the deck of cards. “Shuffle them, as much or as little as you like. When you are ready to cut the deck, clear your mind and think about the question you wish to ask.”

Jack didn’t need to think of a question. He already had one.

What the hell just happened?

She instructed him to randomly select five cards and pointed out where to lay them, facedown, in an upright arc. “First is the Present Position, followed by Present Desires, the Unexpected, the Immediate Future and the Outcome.”

From the corner of his eye, Jack saw Dara watching. The moment intensified, the noise of the crowd seeming to fade away until it was just the three of them in some kind of vortex.

The old woman flipped the first card. “This is The Sun. It means you are happy with your life and may also hint at an upcoming trip.” Her black eyes glittered. “You do not need to agree or affirm what I say. Just listen and hear. You may not understand right now, but you will. Soon you will.”

She revealed the next card. “This represents factors influencing your present desires.”

“It’s The Pope,” Dara said, her voice almost a whisper. “Reversed like that it may indicate you’re in a rut and have closed your mind to new ideas or opinions, right, Cedella?”

“Yes,” the old woman, Cedella, said. “Now, let’s see what you’ve drawn for the Unexpected.”

Jack reached up and flipped the card. It was The Lovers.

Again, his eyes locked with Dara. Cedella cackled and rocked on her stool.

“Two more.” She held the fourth card in place with one brown index finger then flicked it over. “The Immediate Future.”

“That doesn’t look good.” Jack frowned. The card was labeled “The Hanged Man.”

“It’s not what you think.” Dara’s brow wrinkled in concentration. “This card means you must sacrifice something to achieve a goal. It can also mean you need to re-evaluate a situation, you’re hanging in limbo or waiting to see what you need to do.”

“That’s pretty general,” he said. “Most goals require sacrifice, don’t they?”

“Remember,” Cedella warned, “this is information you may not need today, but perhaps tomorrow.”

She tipped her head, directing Jack to reveal the final card, but a sudden gust of wind sent the card scudding across the wooden surface. Jack caught it and pulled it back in front of them. He flipped it over.

“Justice,” Dara announced.

“What does it mean?” he asked, a heavy nervousness settling in the pit of his stomach.

“I cannot say.” Cedella’s face gave away nothing. “I don’t know if the card was upright or reversed. This card represents balance, karma. What you put into the world is what you will receive. Reversed, it may signal legal problems or unfairness.”

Jack examined the cards again. The Sun meant everything was groovy. The Pope, reversed, indicated he was in a rut or closed-minded. The Lovers. Dara. The Hanged Man, signifying he needed to give up something to get something or rethink a situation. And Justice, a reminder that karma was a bitch.

Chapter 4

“I hope you aren’t upset by that tarot reading Cedella did.” Dara avoided Jack’s eyes by pretending to count how many lime wedges remained in the plastic container. When she did risk a glance, he wore a bemused expression.

“Why would I be upset?” he asked. “Tarot cards are for people who need something to believe in, something to cling to. The same sort who read their horoscopes and carry good luck charms.”

“You’re not superstitious, I take it.”

“No. One hundred percent grounded in reality.”

She wondered how he would explain that bolt of sizzling awareness that had zapped both of them. She saw him react as if he’d gotten a love tap from a taser at the exact moment she felt the carnal shock electrify her body. She had never experienced a phenomenon like that before, but she could still feel the aftereffects of it. Her senses seemed heightened, as if she was experiencing sound, touch, sight, scents and sensations on an intuitive level…but only when it came to Jack.

She knew when he was going to say something before the words came out of his mouth. She smelled his sweat, blending with the salty ocean air, beneath the layers of perfume, food and alcohol. The mahogany sheen of his hair, the velvet brown of his eyes, the copper gleam of his tanned skin made everyone else look like they’d been shaded in with watercolors.

He was coming home with her.

She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise over the Caribbean Sea at dawn.

The certainty, the knowing, edged out every objection, every fear, every doubt. Thoughts of Tony and the losses she’d suffered because of his betrayal fluttered around the edge of her mind like moths futilely striking a windowpane. She knew they were there, but they were inconsequential.

It was after midnight. The strands of lights still glowed, but the TV and music had been turned off. The shops in town were dark, as was the Blue Moon Beach House except for the soft glow of a lamp Francy left on for guests who stumbled in late. She, Quint and Jack were the only three still at the Soggy Dollar.

“Would you mind closing up, young lady?” Quint gave a huge fake yawn, causing his jaw to crack. “It’s past my bedtime.”

She knew Quint didn’t go to bed until after four a.m. and slept until noon. This was his way of respecting her privacy—pretending he was clueless to the sexual tension vibrating between her and Jack. Leaving first meant no awkward audience when she invited Jack back to her place.

“Sure. I just need to stack up the chairs and update the inventory list for March.”

Quint tucked the bag with the night’s receipts under one arm and slung the other around her shoulder for a quick hug. He spoke to Dara but stared at Jack. “You have any problems, you let me know.”

When Quint had disappeared down Main Street, Jack stood and began stacking the chairs. “Is he always that overprotective?”

No, he wasn’t, Dara realized. Why had he glared a warning at Jack? And when was the last time he’d hugged her?

Never.

She didn’t know what to make of Quint’s uncharacteristic behavior. Jack thought he was being protective, but Dara sensed something different. It seemed almost like her old grizzled friend was afraid of…losing her.

To Jack?

That was laughable. She wanted Jack. Heck, maybe she even needed Jack. But only to satisfy the insatiable craving she had to screw him.

She gave up on updating the inventory list after losing count, for the fifth or sixth time, of how many mangos they needed. March would have to tally the totals himself. She flicked off the lights, grabbed her satchel and locked the back door. Jack helped her with the shutters and then the moment arrived.

A full moon rode high in the sky, its silvery light making it easy to see Jack’s face. He reached for her hand…and twined their fingers together when she took it.

He’d hung out at the Soggy Dollar on the pretense of getting closer to Dara for the job. So he could finish his assignment and move on.

It was time to admit the truth and stop bullshitting himself.

He stayed because he wanted her. And because she needed him. Needed him to make love to her selflessly and passionately. To heal the scars Esposito had inflicted.

Sleeping with Dara created a host of other problems, but he would deal with those tomorrow. Yeah, it was a breach of professionalism. Private investigators didn’t sleep with their targets, especially when they were being paid big bucks by an anonymous political benefactor. She likely wouldn’t be too happy to find out he’d already known who she was or why he’d come looking for her, but the deal he had to offer was too good for her to pass up. Besides, it wasn’t like he wanted to marry her.

It was just one night.

And he planned to make it the best night of Dara’s life.

They didn’t speak during the walk back to her bungalow. They waded through the surf, each swell a silky caress. The cool water on her feet and ankles contrasted with the warm air sweeping over her skin, becoming a delicious form of tropical foreplay. By the time they crossed the beach and approached the wooden staircase, Dara burned with arousal.

She led the way up the stairs and through the French doors, leaving them open to catch the night breeze. She reached to turn on a lamp, then paused to look over her shoulder at Jack. Even in the shadowy interior of the bungalow, she could see the steady gleam of his eyes. She left the light off and walked into the bedroom.

She liked that they didn’t need words. That they seemed to share an understanding of what each wanted and expected. That Jack hadn’t tried to seduce her with vapid compliments or empty promises. It was easier without words because Dara didn’t have any to explain her instantaneous attraction or the electric moment between them at the bar.

Hanging the satchel on a hook inside her closet, she toed off her sneakers. Turning around, she found Jack leaning against the doorframe, watching her. Her hands went to the button at the waist of her cargo shorts, but he shook his head. Two quick strides and then he was standing in front of her. He slid his fingers through her hair, cradling her head loosely. He bent and brushed his lips back and forth across hers; not quite a kiss, more of a caress. She closed her eyes, tasting a hint of salt and malty beer.

Jack began massaging her scalp, fingertips flexing and circling, gradually moving down to her shoulders. His touch was sensuous, but not erotic. As he methodically kneaded the tension and fatigue from her muscles, there seemed to be an element of tenderness, as if Jack intended to soothe and relax her before taking things to the next level. His thoughtfulness loosened something inside her, some emotion she’d buttoned down after Tony’s betrayal. Panic flared…then was gone.

His fingertips pressed up and down along her spine, nudging her closer until the tips of her breasts rubbed against his chest. She moaned, frustrated they were still clothed yet delighted by the tantalizing friction of fabric against her nipples.

Tugging the tank top from the waistband of her shorts, Jack curved his palms around her ribcage and up her back. His hands were wide and warm against her skin. Her lids fluttered open and they made—held—eye contact. The moment lengthened, became timeless. Inside her head, she heard the ping of another button go flying, freeing yet another emotion.

She didn’t keep track of the one-night stands she’d had on the island—there weren’t that many—but she knew she’d never looked into casual lovers’ eyes like this. They got naked, they fucked, and they went their separate ways. She still had her clothes on and she’d already gone further with Jack than with any other lover, including Tony.

Why wasn’t she screaming for him to go, slamming and locking the door behind him? She’d invited him into her bedroom, but he’d crossed another threshold, one she’d cordoned off five years ago. How far would he go? How far did she want him to go?

The tumultuous confusion caused by the questions careening through her consciousness spurred the physical need increasing with each breath. Dara slipped her hands beneath Jack’s cotton shirt, stroking the muscled planes of his back, urging him closer. His erection pressed into her belly and became the sole focus of her need.

Pulling back so she could unfasten his shorts, Dara whimpered when Jack blocked her. Instead he reached for the button and zipper on hers.

Let me.

She heard the command as if he’d spoken it aloud and nodded. Inhaling deeply, she attempted to slow the erotic need pulsing through her veins.

Leisurely, Jack undid her shorts, letting them drop to the floor. He shimmied the hem of her tank up a few inches, baring her navel.

Come on, come on, she thought, quivering with impatience.

Jack smiled and let the edge of her tank fall. He left her standing there and walked around the edge of the bed. Their eyes met across the yellow linen duvet, which he carefully folded back. He undid his shirt and let it hang open, his gaze fixed on her. She couldn’t resist peeking at his smooth chest, admiring the masculine curve of his pecs. She quashed the urge to leap across the bed and pull him down on top of her. Clearly he wanted to take the lead and she was willing to let him.

He shrugged out of his shirt and unbuttoned his shorts but kept them on. Somewhere between the front door and the bedroom he’d ditched his shoes. On bare feet, he returned to her side and finished undressing her. He stepped back to admire her, running a hand through his hair, leaving it in spiky disarray. He circled her, his gaze burning a fiery trail of awareness up and down her body.

She should feel exposed, vulnerable, as this stranger examined every inch of her bare flesh. Standing naked in front of Jack, granting tacit permission for him to do anything he wanted, was beyond intimate. Yet there was no fear, no reservation.

She gulped back an ecstatic sob.

It had been years since Dara was free of those emotions. The lightness in her spirit made her want to soar, and Jack was the man who’d given her wings.

Chapter 5

Dara made a choking sound that alarmed Jack until he caught sight of the smile tilting her lips. He didn’t miss the glimmer of the tear that coursed down her cheek, but he ignored it. She didn’t need to be reminded of the betrayal that made it painful for her to trust. It was enough that she did trust.

Him.

It was an honor he’d never forget, and, if he could, insure she never regretted.

He wanted Dara so bad his cock ached. Swollen and engorged, it was painful to move. Fluid leaked from the tip, creating a wet spot that was cool against his skin. The urge to drop his shorts, bend her over and slip into her heat was almost irresistible, especially since she’d bared herself to him so trustingly. He tried, and failed, to regulate his panting exhalations.

She was incredible.

Lean thighs. Curvy hips. Narrow waist. And breasts straight off a sculpture of Aphrodite.

Hell, yeah, she was sexy. But what made his pulse pound in his ears was the way she looked at him. Chin up, mouth tremulous, eyes wide, hiding nothing. He recalled how she had pulled back from him that morning, remembered the distance she kept between herself and others, including a helpless little dog. He’d bet a million dollars no one had been this close to Dara’s heart since Esposito crushed it.

A sliver of guilt wedged its way into his head. It wasn’t his intent to mislead her or turn tonight into something it wasn’t. Dara had been hurt too badly to fall for him after just one night, he assured himself. Tonight was about proving to Dara that she didn’t need to protect herself from the world. It was about showing her she could reach out and connect…without being betrayed.

Reminding himself of that allowed Jack to regain control. His cock still throbbed and his breath still came in ragged gasps, but he could wait. He would wait.

Until he’d knocked down every last brick in Dara’s walls.

Jack took Dara’s hand and guided her back out to the living room. Halting in front of an old chair she’d had reupholstered in town, he waited for her to sit. He then hooked one of her knees over each arm of the chair and knelt before her.

The tension had been doubling every minute since they arrived at the bungalow. Dara didn’t think she could get any more turned on, but, dear God, she was so wrong. It felt like her guts had liquefied and were running out through her center. If she’d still been wearing panties, they’d be soaked.

Jack had her laid out like a feast, arranged in another position that bared everything to him. Instead of thrusting her knees together to hide herself, she scooted to the edge of the seat so her legs were splayed even wider. His breathing seemed to stop and then his chest expanded. He curved a hand under each thigh and dipped his head, pausing just long enough to share another look with her and then…

And then she forgot everything and everyone, unable to focus past the extraordinary pleasure Jack administered with his tongue. Hot. Wet. Slick. His mouth seemed to be everywhere at once, but the sensations swirled to center at her clit. In seconds her muscles trembled and she arched in the chair, desperate to climax except he wouldn’t let her. Every time her body clenched, just on the precipice of exploding, he stopped. When she relaxed, he started again.

She wanted to come so bad—so, so bad—but she allowed Jack to dictate the pace. Once she quit fighting for release, the onslaught became even more exquisite. She closed her eyes and concentrated, amazed to discover a new kind of orgasm building. Instead of tightening her body like a bow string about to snap, she went limp, each corkscrew of pleasure spreading through her body like liquid heat. Jack stoked the fire slowly, licking and sucking and nibbling her sensitive flesh. It flared first at her center, spiraling out in all directions like a shockwave. But instead of losing intensity at the core, the orgasm strengthened until it felt like every cell in her body was climaxing. It rippled through her again and again, as if she’d jumped from a cliff only to have time stop, freezing her in mid-freefall.

Dear God, it was unending. The shriek building in her chest came out as a long, keening groan that finally culminated in a guttural cry. She collapsed against the chair as aftershocks shook her body.

Jack rose on his knees, wiping his chin with the back of one hand. “Good?”

Dara nodded, unable to speak.

“Ready for more?”

She nodded harder.

“Be right back.”

When Jack stood, she saw the thick ridge of his cock thrusting against his shorts. He winced, adjusted himself and grinned. It was an effort to smile back; every ounce of energy had gone into that amazing climax. It felt strange but oddly liberating not to care that she was still spread wide. There wasn’t any need to cover up or shield herself.

That felt almost as good as Jack’s mouth on her clit.

She listened to him moving around in the kitchen. The refrigerator opened and closed, the interior light illuminating a small wedge of darkness. He walked past, carrying two bottles of water, and disappeared into the bedroom.

She was trying to sit up in the chair when he came out.

“Let me help.” He scooped her up in his arms, making her cry out in surprise. She looped her arms around his neck, savoring their first real skin-to-skin contact.

He’d draped a large towel across her bed and laid her in the center of it. He unzipped his shorts and pushed them down his legs, bending to pick them up and lay them across the bench at the foot of the bed.

“You’re quite a neatnik,” she said.

“Not really.” On hands and knees, he crawled between her legs. “It’s a distraction technique. I desperately want to bury my cock in you, but I’m not ready to be done yet.”

“You don’t need to wait. We have all night.” Dara reached for him, but Jack moved out of her reach.

“Yes, we have all night, but we only have one first time.” He stretched out above her, his body just skimming hers, supporting his weight on his arms. Nuzzling her ear, he gave a pleased murmur when she found his lips for a languid kiss. She teased his mouth with her tongue, circling it around his, tasting herself on him, sucking his lower lip.

Dara sensed his control slipping. Trailing her fingertips along his spine, she clutched his ass, pressing him against her.

“Now,” she whispered. “I want you inside me as much as you want to be there.”

“Dara.” He ground out her name with a note of complaint. “I’m not ready.”

“But I am.”

“No.” His voice trembled with a small laugh. “Condom. Bedside table.”

She reached for the foil packet and handed it to him. “I’ll do it next time.”

“Good idea. I’m ready to explode.” He sat back on his heels and rolled on the condom.

Before he could cover her body with his, she scrambled out of the way. “I want to be on top.”

“Whatever you say.” His voice deepened.

Dara straddled him, poised over his rigid cock. She sank down, inch by inch, savoring the sensation as it filled and stretched her. Jack held her hips in a death grip.

“Don’t move,” he said, his voice tight. “Not yet.”

She watched him, saw him fighting to restrain himself from thrusting into her and coming too quickly. She lost track of how long they remained still, eyes locked, bodies tense. His lids fluttered and he gave a shuddering sigh, then his grip on her eased and his body relaxed into the mattress.

“You feel so good.”

“It gets even better,” she said, slowly beginning to grind her hips.

Jack moved his hands to her breasts, gently pinching the tips until they were tight rosy knots. Settling into a sensual rhythm, they rocked together, content—for the moment—to enjoy the feel of being joined together. Dara grew wetter and it became effortless to slide along his length. She tilted her pelvis and felt her clit hit hard cock, blurting out a surprised, “Oh!”

“Right there. Keep riding me like that.” Jack guided her back and forth, rising up to go deeper within her, encouraging her with words and moans.

A second climax hit Dara as Jack’s hips thrust upwards and he gave a muffled shout. Collapsing against his heaving chest, she wondered how long before he would be ready for another round.

They had all night…but only this night.

Chapter 6

“Does it rain like this all the time?” Jack leaned a forearm against the door jamb, seemingly entranced by the water coming down so hard it looked like a solid gray wall.

“It depends on the season. This is unusual. Usually we get an afternoon shower that clears out pretty quickly.” Dara came up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing a cheek to his back.

“Don’t you ever go stir crazy?” He gently pried her hands away and paced out to the verandah.

She followed him. A sense of foreboding made her frown, but she quickly erased the worry from her face. “How can I go stir crazy when I have a sexy guy to keep me busy?”

He must have heard something in her voice because he turned away from the storm and pulled her into his arms. “Aren’t you tired of me yet? It’s been a whole week,” he teased, kissing the tip of her nose.

The uneasy feeling abated but didn’t disappear entirely. The last day or so Jack had begun acting…different. She felt him pulling away although his lovemaking was just as ardent as it had been the first night. If anything, the sex kept getting better and better. Every time was the best, but how long could that go on?

Until he left, she supposed.

Tears stung her eyes.. She wiggled out of his embrace and hurried to the kitchen.

“Are you hungry? I can make a salad with some of that leftover fish we grilled last night.”

“Sure. Sounds good.”

Usually they prepared meals together. Not today. Jack remained on the verandah, and she hid in the kitchen.

Pull it together, she thought. You had six more nights than you counted on. Be glad you had that. You knew he wouldn’t be staying forever.

She did know that. In fact, she’d counted on it. Jack was supposed to be a one-night stand like the others. But instead of sending him on his way, she’d invited him to stay. He moved his stuff from the Blue Moon Beach House to her bungalow. He settled in to island life like he was meant for it. While she was at work or volunteering at the school, he kept himself busy. He went out diving or hiking, or had lunch in town with Robert Landerly or Bas Luna. He helped Samuel Tanno put a new roof on Cedella’s house and went fishing with Pinky, bringing home a snapper he’d caught himself.

The days they’d spent together were crazy fun. They rented a small sailboat one day and had a picnic on a bump of land rising out of the sea about ten miles from Pequeña Esquina. Another day they rode bicycles around the island, and she introduced him to Jugg Henderson, a retired four-star general who now raised goats and was a good friend of Quint. Every other evening, Jack came with her to the Soggy Dollar, sometimes pitching in, sometimes just hanging out until her shift was over. Twice, he’d broken up potential fights. Quint, impressed with Jack’s subtle but undeniable air of authority, joked about offering him a job as a bouncer.

They laughed. They played. They talked. But both were careful to avoid any kind of personal conversation, a surprisingly easy feat, thanks to their compatibility. Even Quint had commented on how attuned to each other they were. Each day her curiosity about Jack increased, but she bit her tongue to keep from asking questions she had no right to ask. Sometimes she wished he would ask her a question or share something personal about himself. Anything to make it okay for her to step out of her self-imposed isolation.

But he didn’t ask. She didn’t know if Jack was respecting her boundaries or enforcing his own. Although they shared an unusual degree of consonance, the unasked, unanswered questions were starting to wash away the happiness she’d awoken to the morning after their first night together like high tide slowly washing away a sand castle left on the beach by children.

By the end of each day, Dara felt as if she and Jack were standing on separate edges of an ever-widening gap. But then night came, thrusting them together again in a magical place where they didn’t need words. Where Dara forgot why it mattered that she knew nothing about Jack and that he seemed not to need to know anything about her.

She put the half-assembled salad back into the refrigerator, hungry for something more than food. Any day now Jack would leave and Dara had to be okay with that. She would miss him. In their few short days together, he’d come to mean something to her. She might not be able to tell him in so many words, but there was one language they spoke fluently.

Jack felt the atmosphere in the bungalow shift, as if the barometric pressure had dropped or the eerily calm eye of a hurricane had settled over the structure. His skin prickled, signaling Dara’s touch a second before her hands cupped his ass, the bold caress an erotic gesture of domination. A few more seconds and his cock went rock hard.

He fought the impulse to turn and respond to her touch, his body instantly primed and ready. Things were spinning out of control and every day he failed to tell Dara the real reason for his visit to Pequeña Esquina, the worse it was going to be when he finally did come clean. The sex—the amazing, incredible, mind-blowing sex—was just another excuse to avoid revealing the truth. Just as he’d used helping Samuel replace Cedella’s roof and fishing with Pinky as excuses.

He never should have slept with Dara. At least not until after he’d told her who he was and why he’d come to her island. Except that Jack knew once she discovered he was there on behalf of Tony Esposito, the chances of her even speaking to him again, let alone making love with him, were a million in one. Maybe not even that good.

“Babe.”

Dara ignored the objection in his voice and pressed close against him, trapping him between her body and the railing of the verandah. Reaching beneath the loose waistband of his shorts, she curled her fingers around his cock and pumped slowly, her palm slick with some kind of oil. The silky strokes from the base to the head drew a sharp hiss from him, and he pushed back so she had more space to fist the rigid length.

His hips jerked, drawing a husky murmur of approval. She tightened her grip, pausing at the crown to rub her thumb across an especially sensitive area, spreading the moisture leaking from the tip over the smooth flesh.

Only Dara could give him a hand job that brought him to the edge in under a minute. Closing his eyes and admitting defeat, Jack allowed her to tease him, squeezing and stroking until his balls tightened and ejaculate boiled in his testicles, spewing into her palm, flooding the crotch of his shorts.

“That’s quite a mess in your pants,” she said, swiping the sticky fluid across his stomach. She sauntered away from him, each step a tempting sway of her hips as she made her way down the stairs and into the heavy rain.

“Come on. You won’t melt.” She crooked a finger at him, the rain plastering her hair and clothing to her body.

He loved this side of her. Playful, spirited, daring. It was such a contrast to the guarded woman who minimized her risks hiding behind secrets and keeping everyone at a distance. Seeing the change in her was part of his reluctance to reveal the truth about himself. She didn’t deserve what had happened to her. Instead of hiding away on a tiny Caribbean island, Dara should have been seeing her hard work pay off with a successful career, good friends and maybe even a family. She should be living every day in the spotlight instead of keeping to the shadows to avoid the fallout of Esposito’s underhanded dealings.

He didn’t know how many more days and nights, or even hours and minutes, he had with Dara. This was his first assignment for a high-profile agency and he should have checked in days ago to report he’d made contact, conveyed the offer and persuaded the subject to return to D.C. He needed the career change after what had happened with him and his partner six months ago when a routine traffic stop turned into a shootout with three teenagers.

Dara stripped off her wet clothing, leaving the tank top and running shorts in a heap on the dark, wet sand. Naked, looking like some kind of jungle nymph with rivulets of rain trailing down her skin, she ran across the beach and crashed into the surf. Dropping his shorts to the wooden floor of the verandah, Jack hopped over the railing, landing on the ground a few feet below. He followed Dara through the torrential downpour into the ocean, capturing her in his arms. They stumbled, falling to the sand together. The tiny grains clung to their skin and hair, as waves rolled over their legs.

Blinking water out of his eyes, Jack gazed down at the woman beneath him. She raised a hand and pushed his hair back, her touch lingering on his jaw. The mood shifted from playful teasing to urgent need in the blink of an eye. Jack felt as if he’d become a part of the storm—elemental sexual desire battered him from the inside out, adrenaline surged. His mouth claimed Dara’s in a rough, raw kiss he knew would leave her lips red and swollen. He tasted her salty sweetness, savored her unique flavor, tried to consume and inhale as much of her as he could. She clawed and clutched at him, her frenzied movements mirroring his own desperation. He dragged his stubble-covered chin down the side of her neck and between her breasts. The friction of his whiskers abrading her skin caused her to wriggle under him until he clamped down on a nipple, trapping it between the edges of his teeth while he laved the tip.

After a week together, Jack knew some of Dara’s secrets, including where and how she most liked to be touched. Sucking on her nipples made her squirm; biting them made her melt.

Pinching a bit of sand between his fingers, he rubbed the gritty substance over the peak of her other breast as he continued nipping, then soothing the firm bud in his mouth. She arched upwards, twining her arms around his neck to hold him in place.

Jack wedged a knee between hers, spreading them wide enough to slip his cock between her slick folds, wishing he could plunge into her depths. Without a condom, it was the best he could do for now. As aroused as he was, rubbing the sensitive underside of his cock along her feminine channel would be enough.

The heat of their bodies was an inferno compared to the lukewarm ocean and cool sand. Jack curved an arm under Dara, holding fast as their hips rocked together, each seeking the perfect combination of pace and pressure to trigger their release. Taking Dara at the edge of the ocean as the storm raged on generated a primal excitement he’d never experienced before, and Jack ground against her relentlessly, feverishly close to coming.

Dara stiffened then began to move faster with longer, more drawn out rolls of her pelvis. It was another of her secrets he’d discovered. An indicator her orgasm was rising fast. He latched onto her breast again, sucking the tip hard against his front teeth. That little bit of extra stimulation triggered Dara’s orgasm.

“Oh, God. Please don’t stop,” she cried out, the words muffled against his shoulder.

Her nails dug into his back, urging him on to his own climax. His shout was lost in the wind and rain as tremors wracked his body. Laying in the surf as they caught their breath, Jack made a decision.

He’d tell Dara everything. Tonight. When she finished her shift at the Soggy Dollar.

Chapter 7

Sex on the Beach.

Every time a college sorority girl ordered the cranberry juice, vodka, OJ and peach schnapps cocktail, Dara knew she’d think of Jack. Despite the melancholy that accompanied thoughts of his eventual departure, she smiled at the sight of him sprawled across her bed. Dude was curled into a scruffy dirt-colored ball at his side.

“You aren’t supposed to be in this house, let alone in my bed,” she chided softly.

The dog looked up at her with adoring eyes and thumped his tail a couple of times. She reached down and scratched behind his ears, admitting he was a sweetheart. She’d come home from a shift at the Soggy Dollar to find Jack had lured the mutt into her kitchen and was teaching Dude how to shake, bribing him with tidbits from a leftover meat pie.

“Look how smart he is.” Jack sat cross-legged on the floor and pulled Dude into his lap. “He already knows how to sit. Tomorrow we’re going to work on fetching a stick.”

It was nice having someone to come home to. When Jack left, at least she’d still have Dude.

Dara pressed her fingers to her lips then pressed her fingers to Jack’s cheek. She was due at the Soggy Dollar, but there was no reason to wake him up. She decided to let him sleep, knowing he’d make his way to the bar later on.

“Be good,” she whispered to Dude.

Pulling the French doors closed, she headed toward town. The sky was still overcast, but the rain had moved out to sea. The breeze remained steady, which kept the humidity at bay. Storms like the one that had just passed through left the island with a fresh-scrubbed feeling that reminded her of springtime in Virginia. Bad weather rarely kept the islanders indoors, but tourists didn’t come to Pequeña Esquina for wind and rain. She hoped the evening remained clear or it would be a slow night.

Quint was already there when she arrived.

“You’re late, young lady.”

“I’m on island time,” she retorted, stashing her satchel under the counter.

“Where’s Jack?”

“Getting his beauty sleep.” She stacked lemons, limes and oranges in a bowl and began cutting the fruit into wedges. “He’ll be by later.”

“We’ve got incoming,” Quint said. “Francy thought this afternoon’s flight would have to be cancelled, but they just confirmed the weather has improved sufficiently. I’ll be glad to see those Aussies go.”

Dara laughed. “They were a rowdy bunch, weren’t they?”

A rugby team from Sydney had arrived three days ago and depleted the bar’s entire stock of beer. Quint had called in a special order, but delivery had already been delayed a day because of the storm. He got grouchy when his inventory ran short.

The sun eventually broke through the clouds, heating up the afternoon and drawing out the tourists. Eager to enjoy the sultry tropical air, they clamored for drinks and music, keeping Quint and Dara busier than usual. Just before sunset, the low drone of a prop plane announced the delayed arrival of Quint’s overdue beer delivery and daily tourists drop-odd/pick-up.

“G’day, mates.” Quint waved at the rugby players as they boarded the beat-up Volkswagen van that shuttled tourists to and from the landing strip. Under his breath, he muttered, “Damn lot of fish. Drank me dry.”

“Why don’t you take a break?” Dara suggested. “Go smoke a stogie or something.”

He cast a dubious glance around the bar. “It’s still pretty crazy.”

“I can handle it,” she said. “If I get backed up, I’ll holler for you.”

Grumbling, he reached under the counter for his special stash of Glenfiddich and poured a splash into a coffee mug. Patting the breast pocket of his garish Hawaiian shirt to check for his cigar, he wandered off and sat down with Jugg Henderson at a corner table on the deck.

Dara worked her way through the line of people ordering drinks, sweat dampening her hairline as she mixed cocktails, made change and kept up a lively conversation. She had a break in customers and turned to the sink to wash the glasses and dishes piling up.

“Hello, Dara.”

The soapy glass she held slipped from her fingers, shattering when it hit the floor. A shudder ran through her when she recognized the deep male voice. A smooth, persuasive voice. The voice of the man who’d lied to her, and his constituents and the American public, time and time again.

Shock paralyzed her thought process, except for a handful of random questions that ricocheted inside her head like stray bullets.

How had he found her?

Why was he here?

What did he want?

Who else knew about her?

Mindful of the glass shards at her feet, Dara pivoted slowly. Tony Esposito stood on the other side of the bar. At first glance, five years appeared not to have changed him. Tall and athletic and good-looking, with a gregarious, charismatic demeanor, he’d been a natural as a politician. Now gray flecked his thick black hair and lines creased the corners of his crystalline blue eyes.

“You look incredible,” he said, a hint of genuine admiration in his casual tone. “I was looking forward to our reunion in DC, but coming here seems to have worked out better.” He lifted his chin, acknowledging the exotic setting. “You can fill me in on what you’ve been doing since we last saw each other.”

“You mean since your arrest and subsequent ethics investigation?” The burn of anger was slowly consuming her initial panicked reaction. “What I’ve been doing is trying to build some semblance of a life since you wrecked the one I had.”

“That was a tough time for both of us,” he said.

Fury she’d been denying for five years exploded in the center of her chest. Red tinted the edges of her vision, which had tunneled to focus on Tony. “

“A ‘tough time’? For ‘both of us’? Is that what you really think?” Her voice got louder with each word. “Damn it, Tony! You ruined my life because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants.”

“Calm down, Dara.” Tony glanced around surreptitiously, as if checking who was listening in.

“Calm down?” She was full-on screaming. “You have some nerve, showing up here and then telling me to calm down.” She reached behind her, fumbling for something to throw at him, tears blurring the image of the man she’d loved, the man she’d trusted. The man who’d betrayed her. She grabbed the first thing that fit into her palm and whipped it at him.

“The hell,” he shouted, raising a hand to his forehead where the orange struck him.

“You could pitch for the Yankees if bartending doesn’t work out as a career, young lady.” Despite the humorous statement, Quint’s gravelly voice was humorless. “I’d say you aren’t welcome here, Senator. Oh, that’s right. Ex-senator.”

The solid presence of her friend calmed some of Dara’s anger. She wiped away her tears, body tight with rage.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, struggling to lower her voice. “How did you even find me?”

Glancing between her and Quint, Tony looked genuinely puzzled. “It’s about the proposal.”

“What proposal?” Quint asked, a protective arm curved over Dara’s shoulders.

“You mean you haven’t seen it?” Tony’s brows furrowed, then his jaw clenched. “The proposal Jack Wyatt was sent here over a week ago to present.”

Jack? Proposal? Sent by Esposito?

Tony’s expression shifted, became calculating. He settled onto a stool and folded his arms. “When we didn’t hear from Jack, I figured maybe he needed some help convincing you to accept my offer.”

The ground seemed to shift under her feet. Dara felt like she was standing on quicksand in the middle of an earthquake.

“Wh-what…of-offer?” she stuttered.

Tony smiled, teeth snow-white against the twilight-blue sky. “Come back to D.C. with me and everything can be like it was before.”

Chapter 8

“Dara, please listen to me.” Jack tried the doorknob, but the French doors were locked. He peered inside, finding the kitchen and living room empty. The door to the bedroom was closed so she might be home and just not answering. He knocked again. “Let me explain.”

He’d already been to the Soggy Dollar, the school and Quint’s place trying to find her. No one in town had been willing to speak with him, and after last night’s debacle, he didn’t blame them. Not that it mattered though. The only person he needed to talk to was Dara, but she was nowhere to be found.

“Come on, Dara.” He rapped his knuckles against the glass. “I know you’re in there.”

What a mess. What a fucking mess he’d made of things. He rested his head against the windowpane, the cool surface a relief against the headache pounding behind his eyes.

He’d arrived at the bar just in time to hear Esposito invite her back to D.C. with the promise of righting all his wrongs. Between the shocked look on her face and the thunderous look on Quint’s face, Jack realized he was too late. Dara had walked up to him, eyes shimmering with tears, and said, “You knew. All this time you knew who I was and what he did to me. That makes what you did even worse.” The accusation struck him like a lance through his gut. The truth of her words hit fast and sharp, stealing his breath.

She was gone before he’d been able to react.

Quint had made it clear neither he nor Esposito were welcome at the Soggy Dollar. The reception was equally frigid at the Blue Moon Beach House. In a formal tone at odds with his lilting island accent, Bastian notified Jack that he’d made arrangements for him on tomorrow’s flight back to the mainland. After a restless night, Jack had risen at dawn and begun his search for Dara.

He had less than four hours to find her and convince her to hear his side of the story. Not “his side of the story” as in justification of why he hadn’t been forthright with her, but the truth.

The truth was he loved her.

As soon as he’d met her, he recognized the lonely, vulnerable woman behind her carefully erected defenses. He’d read her file and knew what kind of person she had been—warm, outgoing, generous, enthusiastic, affectionate, trusting. Five years after Esposito’s betrayal, the wounds were still raw and Dara had become a woman who was skeptical, withdrawn and afraid. Afraid to commit. Afraid to connect. Afraid to care.

Jack had known as soon as Dara learned who he really was and why he was there, she would revert to the guarded individual he’d first met. The woman who was unwilling to take a teaching position because it might mean caring about her students, who refused to let a stray dog into her home because she might get attached, who insisted on a series of one-night stands to avoid emotional entanglements.

Somehow Jack had been lucky enough that, for the first time in years, Dara had risked trusting him. She’d trusted him and he betrayed her, just like Esposito.

Worse than Esposito.

He was gone.

Dara tried to ignore the sound of the commuter plane as it took off, the sound slowly receding as it headed west toward the mainland. She should be relieved Jack was gone. She should be angry and hurt. Instead, she was just…empty.

After leaving the Soggy Dollar last night, she’d collected Dude and a change of clothes, and taken refuge with Cedella. She wasn’t sure if Jack would come looking for her, but she wasn’t taking any chances. She’d been through this before—betrayed by the man she loved. Except…except this was different. Tony’s betrayal had robbed her of her dreams. She’d been humiliated and resentful. Jack’s betrayal had stolen her heart. She’d trusted him. More than that, she’d believed in him. In them.

“Ya know, chil’, just because it’s dark don’t necessarily mean it’s night.” Cedella refilled Dara’s coffee mug, returning the enameled pot to the stove. She lowered herself into the wooden chair on the opposite side of the kitchen table and reached for the sugar bowl.

Dara sighed. “I know what you’re trying to say, but it doesn’t matter. Jack and Tony are both out of my life. Permanently.”

Cedella just raised her brows and eyed Dara over the rim of her mug.

“I’m going to get my stuff and head home.” Dara rose. “Thanks for letting me stay here last night.”

Dude scrabbled to his feet and trotted over to the door, his stubby tail wagging.

“Remember what I tol’ ya before? Every day has a sunrise and a sunset.”

“Right. Nothing lasts forever.”

Cedella nodded, satisfied. “Keep remembering that. Things will turn out for ya.”

Dara grabbed her satchel and hugged her friend. “Come on, Dude. Let’s go home.”

She took the long way, circling around town to avoid curious stares. Word spread fast on the island, and last night she’d given people plenty to talk about.

She found Quint sitting on her verandah. She walked into his arms and buried her face against his shoulder. He’d been her champion last night, and she was immeasurably grateful for his friendship.

“Come inside?”

“Sure.” Quint waited while she unlocked the French doors then followed her into the bungalow. He pulled a flask and sheaf of papers from his back pocket. “Got a couple of glasses?”

Dara pointed to a cupboard. “In there.”

She sat down and waited. This was new territory for them, dealing with a personal crisis, and she didn’t know what to expect.

“Jack came to see me right before he left.” Quint handed her a glass filled with a couple of inches of amber liquid. “I almost threw a punch when I saw him standing there, and the guy didn’t even flinch. Like he knew he deserved it and was willing to take it.”

She caught a note of reluctant approval in Quint’s voice. She wanted to know more but was afraid to ask.

“I don’t know if you caught it last night, but maybe you did and are wondering about how I recognized former Senator Esposito so quickly. After all, he’s been out of politics for a while.”

“Five years,” she said.

“Yep. Just about the same amount of time you’ve lived on Pequeña Esquina.”

“So you figured it out. I was Tony’s fiancée when a huge scandal broke out. He was accused of financing a prostitution ring with government funds. He implied I was also involved even though the police never filed charges against me.”

“I know.” Quint’s gaze remained steady. “I’ve known who you are and what happened with Esposito since you decided to stay on the island. I have an old friend who’s a detective with the NYPD. I asked him to run a background check on you.”

Dara stared, not sure how to respond to his admission. On the surface, it seemed yet another betrayal except Quint had been a good friend to her. More than a good friend. Almost a father.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked softly.

“Because it didn’t matter,” he replied. “And because it was pretty damn clear you were running away from something. I figured it was your secret so I kept it to myself.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” She knew Quint well enough to tell when he was building up to something.

“Jack came to see me before he left.”

“I know. You already said that.” Dara felt the numbness fading, frustration and confusion filling the empty space inside her.

“Jack Wyatt was a police officer. He resigned six months ago after a fatal shootout with three teenagers. His partner and one of the teens were killed. He left the police force and accepted a job as a private investigator with a high-profile agency in Washington D.C. You were his first case.”

She let the knowledge soak in. It answered many of the questions she’d had about Jack but never asked. Maybe he would have told her the truth about why he’d come to the island if she’d asked those questions.

“Tony Esposito wants his Senate position back, and he’s got support from some folks with deep pockets. After Jack tracked you down through the deed to your property, he was supposed to convince you to return to D.C. to help clear Esposito’s name.”

“And why would I do that?” she asked angrily. “After what he did to me? There’s no way in hell—”

“Would a check in the amount of $500,00 have swayed you?” Quint raised his brows.

“No.” She shook her head. “Not for a million dollars.”

“Even if it meant getting your old job back?” Quint’s smile was grim. “Jack said Esposito has influential backers. Big money and big influence can work wonders.”

“Why didn’t Jack just tell me all this himself?” The lump in her throat made it hard to speak.

“Because I knew it would hurt you all over again.”

Dara whipped her head around at the sound of Jack’s voice. He stood in the open doorway, as if awaiting permission to enter. An electric surge of emotion set her pulse to pounding.

“Thanks, Quint. I’ll take it from here.” Jack stepped into the kitchen, gripping the older man’s hand for a brief handshake.

The urge to rush forward morphed into the impulse to back away. Facing Jack wasn’t one of the scenarios she’d imagined when trying to figure out what her next move was. The week she’d spent with him had changed her. Jack had slowly dismantled the brick wall she’d put up after Tony’s betrayal. She had nowhere to run and hide.

Maybe it was time to stop hiding and start living.

Start loving.

“I’m not here to make excuses,” he said, keeping a bit of distance between them. “You have every right to hate me for what I did. I should have told you who I was before anything happened between us. But I saw what Esposito did to you. How much you lost and how much you changed because of him. Offering you his deal seemed like a slap in the face, but I told myself it might give you a chance to get back some of what he’d stolen from you. Except, every day we were together you seemed happier, more open, less afraid. I didn’t want to lose that.” Jack swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

Dara cringed, waiting for the painful burn of scorching anger, the same anger that had consumed her following Tony’s betrayal. Hearing Jack admit he’d deceived her when she’d trusted him hurt. A lot. But there was something else, another emotion tempering the anguish.

“Don’t be mad at Quint for setting you up like this.” Jack closed his eyes and wearily rubbed his forehead. “I just wanted a chance to finally tell you the whole truth. And to apologize. You’ll never know how sorry I am.”

He gave her a final heartbreaking look and pivoted toward the door.

“How sorry?” Her voice cracked.

“What?” Jack stopped but didn’t turn to face her.

“How sorry are you?” She slid out of the chair and walked around him until they were face to face. “Making up for something like this could take a long, long time.”

“I’m afraid to guess what you’re trying to tell me, Dara. Half-truths, lies of omission and less than candid conversations have only caused us problems.”

Dara closed the space between them and wound her arms around Jack’s waist. Rising on tiptoe, she pressed her mouth to his, moaning when he threaded his fingers through her hair and deepened the kiss.

The embrace, her tears and their kiss said everything that needed saying.

Epilogue

Dara ran a hand over Jack’s ridged abdomen, smiling to herself in the dark when his breath hitched. She’d discovered he was especially ticklish along his sides and she couldn’t resist teasing him. They had a lot to learn about each other, but she relished the prospect. Now that there were no secrets between them, she was impatient to learn everything about him.

“I really thought I’d never see you again,” Jack said.

She snuggled closer to him, drawing the sheet up over them. The movement dislodged Dude who resettled himself at their feet.

“I thought the same thing,” she admitted. “It seemed like the situation with Tony all over again, except I wasn’t angry. I finally realized I was hurt and disappointed, but what you’d done didn’t change how I felt about you.”

“And how do you feel about me?”

“I already told you,” she said, another smile curving her lips.

“Tell me again. And then again.” A huge sigh expanded his chest. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, Dara. But I’ll do everything I can to earn back your trust.”

“I love you, Jack. You already have my trust.” She blinked away happy tears.

“Do you remember that tarot card reading Cedella did for me?” Jack began stroking Dara’s breast, distracting her.

“I can’t remember anything when you’re touching me like that,” she murmured, twisting to slide her leg between his.

“She said I would have to give up something to find the treasure. She meant you. Just in case it matters, I’d be willing to give up my PI job to stay here on the island with you. Maybe Quint can use another bartender at the Soggy Dollar.”

“Maybe.” She nuzzled his jaw.

“I also remember the final card I drew was Justice. Something about balance and karma and what you put out into the universe will come back to you.” Pulling Dara on top of him so they could look into each other’s eyes, Jack whispered, “I ended up with the most incredible woman in the world and Tony didn’t. That is the best justice of all.”

More Solace of Secrets stories coming soon!

Worth the Trouble

Worth the Wait

About the Author

EmKay Connor is the author of sexy, sassy contemporary romantic fiction infused with quirky humor and engaging characters. Her bright and breezy romances are set in tropical locations and glamorous destinations where her heroes and heroines discover passion and fall in love.

An exuberant and outgoing type who doesn't do well with just a desk and a computer for company, EmKay is a participant of several critique groups. She is a founder and alumni of Pro-SAC (PRO-Seeking Authors Commit), a page-producing work group headquartered at the Mira Mesa Panera in San Diego, CA.

She is a member of Romance Writers of America and numerous RWA chapters, including RWA-San Diego, Passionate Ink and RWA Kiss of Death. A firm believer in paying it forward (and backward and sideways), she has served as president, vice president, secretary, newsletter editor, workshop presenter and committee chair at the local and national level.

Her manuscripts have finaled and won numerous contests, including Spring Into Romance, The Unpublished Beacon and RWA's prestigious Golden Heart.

She lives and writes in northeastern Florida.

Website: www.sexysassyromance.com

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Facebook: www.facebook.com/EmKayConnor

Twitter: twitter.com/EmKayConnor

Off Balance

Superstitious Brides Humorous Romance #8

Susan Ann Wall

Sometimes, to find your center, you must collide with the one who throws you off balance.

Heather Wolfe started practicing yoga as a way to find some balance in her life and maybe decide on a new career. After the world of software engineering sucked the life out of her, she’s bounced from job to job to job, never finding any satisfaction. The same is true of her love life. She’s never been afraid to go after what -- or who -- she wants, but so far, the direct approach has produced zero results. She hasn’t ignored the crush she has on her yoga instructor, Haven Masters, but she’s kept it on a short leash while she devises the perfect plan to get him to make the first move. When Haven asks her to book a tropical cruise retreat for his Mindful Masters of Self class, of which Heather is a student, she puts her new skills as a travel agent to work, manipulating the accommodations to propel her plan forward.

Along his journey to enlightenment, Haven has come across many bumps and roadblocks, but never once has anything or anyone thrown him off balance the way Heather does. Normally confident, he’s confused by his hesitation to ask her out, but when they are thrown in a small cabin together for seven nights aboard the cruise ship, he believes it is the Greater Spirit providing an opportunity that he must seize. Heather doesn’t seem comfortable with the arrangements at first, but after their first night aboard ship, things start moving so quickly, Haven’s head spins as fast as his heart races. Heather seems to have everything he’s been looking for in a woman, so much so that she seems too good to be true. All Haven can do is look for his center again and hope he finds it with Heather.

Chapter 1

“Namaste.”

The word shouldn’t turn her on, but every time her yoga instructor breathed the three syllables, every inch of Heather Wolfe’s body quivered with a need like no other she’d ever experienced. She remained on the yoga mat, eyes closed, the bottoms of her feet turned in and touching, her hands falling to rest on her knees. Sounds of the others standing and rolling their mats whispered across her ear, but Heather’s focus was on one voice, the calming baritone of the man who had just brought her Zen.

She just wished he would bring her to the other side of Zen.

It wasn’t her usual practice to meditate at the end of yoga class. Usually she was eager to strike up a conversation with Haven Masters, yoga god, but today she had to harness a little more courage to tell him something he was likely to be upset about. Since she had never seen him upset, dread filled the pool where the courage needed to be.

With no time like the present, Heather took one last deep breath, pushed to her feet, and took her sweet time rolling the mat. Before she finished, Haven’s deep voice made her quiver once again. “Heather, got a minute?”

“For you, I have two,” she responded, making no effort to hide her shameless, flirtatious smile as she turned to him. Haven responded with his own smile, the kind that made panties disintegrate in a flash. Unable to fight the shiver, Heather pretended it was the morning breeze caressing her sweat-dampened skin and not Haven’s smile that caused her body to misbehave.

Haven finished his conversation with another mystic, as he liked to call those who attended his yoga classes, turning to Heather and flashing that smile once more. “I know we are meeting tonight to go over all the travel arrangements, but I just wanted to check in and make sure everything is set.”

Taking a deep breath, Heather braced herself for the conversation she’d rehearsed in her head a hundred times. “Everything is set, there’s just one small glitch.”

A deep breath expanded Haven’s muscular chest, but his smile didn’t falter. “Do tell,” he encouraged.

Heather sucked in a long breath of courage, trying to push the dread aside. “Well, it only impacts you and I. As I told you, this is the first cruise I’ve ever booked, so it was a learning process for me.”

Offering a comforting stroke of her shoulder and upper arm, Haven continued to smile, his chiseled face reflecting a warmth and calm that Heather mentally reached out and stroked with her fingertips. The morning sun shining through the glass ceiling of the Mindful Master Studio was bright enough to force Haven’s hypnotic blue eyes to squint, the left one pinching closed as if he was trapped in a permanent wink just for her. “I’m sure everything is fine, Heather,” he said, her name crossing his lips throwing her further off kilter. She squeezed her thighs and silently uttered her mantra. You got this. You own this. You are unstoppable.

Maybe someday she’d actually believe it.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Haven said, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

With another deep breath, she knew it was now or never. Never meant running for the hills and spending the rest of her life in a cave to avoid facing what she’d done. You got this. You own this. You are unstoppable. “The cabin situation, well, instead of each of us having a single room, we were booked together, in one room.”

She had chosen her words carefully to avoid getting caught up in a lie. When Haven had asked if she could book a tropical cruise ship retreat for his Mindful Master of Self class, in which Heather was enrolled, she said she’d be more than happy. She’d only been working as a travel agent for a few months and welcomed the challenge. Some of the mystics had doubled up in rooms and others had opted to bring their significant others. Heather hadn’t hesitated when she booked herself and Haven in the same room. She didn’t want to be single forever, but her direct approach with men had gotten her nowhere. Sharing a room would save them both money and it would give Heather an opportunity to be in close quarters with the man who owned every waking thought.

“I’ve been assured that there are two beds in the room,” she continued, but felt a lie was needed to seal her innocence in all this. “I inquired about changing it to two singles, but it doubles what both of us will have to pay, so…”

His hand remained on her arm as his head tilted slightly. “Is sharing a room with me a problem for you?” he asked.

Heather shook her head a little too vigorously, then shrugged to play off the enthusiasm. “Oh, of course not. I mean, I don’t mind at all. In fact, I prefer that, you know, to save money and all.” And to get her needy little hands on his solid, cut to perfection body.

The studio windows were open since it was a warm morning for early April. A breeze danced through but did little to calm her racing nerves or cool her burning desire. She breathed in the cool air, concentrating on grounding herself in the moment. After another silent prayer of her mantra, Heather reminded herself that she neither rambled nor bumbled around men. She was an intelligent, independent, confident woman. Just because Haven Masters came equipped with a god-like body and sucked all the air from her lungs with just a glance didn’t mean she had to play the part of a foolish girl.

“You inspire me, Heather. I believe this is an opportunity, the Greater Spirit bringing us together for some mindful purpose. I’m intrigued to discover that destiny.”

Her knees buckled a little. Yes, she agreed that the Greater Spirit, or what she liked to refer to as God, had a purpose for them, though she thought of it as more heartfelt than mindful.

It required a long sip from her tea leaf infused water bottle for Heather to find words, and then, she still only managed one. “Great.”

Maybe Haven would think her flushed cheeks were a result of the yoga, after all, she had broken a sweat despite the consistent breeze wafting through the studio. Being Monday, today’s yoga was Yo-Fit, a little more demanding and intense than the Wednesday and Friday classes. Haven liked to start the week with a more vigorous workout so everyone felt ready to conquer their week. Heather liked to start her week with Haven, and had come to enjoy the workout. In fact, she looked forward to Mondays since she had no viable reason to see him during the weekend.

Realizing they were just standing there staring at each other, she offered a quick smile and dug deep for some intermediate vocabulary. “I have excursions booked at each port that will accommodate the themes you listed for meditations and yoga practices.”

Haven nodded, still smiling. “I can’t wait to hear all about it. If I didn’t have a group meditation scheduled, I’d invite you to stay for tea to go over everything. I guess we’ll just have to wait until class tomorrow night.”

The Mindful Master of Self class met twice a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays. The first three-month session would conclude after the cruise retreat, but Haven had offered to hold monthly sessions as check-ins, to ensure everyone was still practicing the methods learned. Heather wasn’t sure how she would fill those evenings. She hated the thought of not seeing Haven every day, but she couldn’t justify enrolling in the next session since it would offer all the same lessons she had already completed. The other option was a class on crystal healing, something she found intriguing, but one she knew would be demanding on her wallet.

“I have to get to work, anyway,” she offered with another shrug. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before Heather could step back, Haven moved closer, his other hand gripping her other shoulder, holding her steady as her knees again buckled under his touch. If ever she thought a man might kiss her, it was now, and she imagined the explosion that would ignite the moment their lips touched. Instead, Haven hovered just inches from her face, his eyes locked on hers instead of zeroing in on her lips. She held is gaze and did not lick her lips despite the compulsion. She would have to meditate later to reaffirm her strength in avoiding impulsive behavior, but for now, she focused on the breath, the coolness passing in through her nostrils, the warmth passing on the exhale.

“I have every faith that this retreat will be what all of the Mindful Mystics need to continue on their path to enlightenment, Heather. Even you.”

She wasn’t sure what to make of that last statement. She had signed up for his mindfulness class as a way to facilitate her crush and maybe score a date with him. Heather never had any intention of achieving enlightenment.

Haven’s nostrils flared with the long intake of breath as he lay flat on his back on the mandala blanket his mother had crocheted for him when he graduated high school. His chest rose, lungs filling with air, and he held it for a count of four before releasing it long and slow, his chest falling, his nose tingling as the air passed. The breathing exercises helped about as much as his meditation had.

Haven had never subscribed to the fake it til you make it philosophy because he had faith, was a believer in positive, mindful energy and the power it had when harnessed. He lived his life not only to harness that power, but to share it, to teach others, to love life and live it to the fullest. He prided himself on being genuine, always, and his code was built on honesty and kindness.

So while he had been kind to Heather when she told him about the cabin situation, he hadn’t been completely honest. An hour of meditation did nothing to alleviate the guilt associated with that. How would she feel if she knew he wanted to share a room with her for personal reasons, intimately personal reasons? She was a fascinating woman, happy and beautiful. The yoga studio lit up with an abundance of energy every time she walked in. He wasn’t the only one who felt it. He could see the energy extend to the other mystics as well, particularly Jeremy Andrews. Haven was sure Jeremy had only joined yoga as a way to meet women; the proof was in how he shamelessly flirted with all the attractive ladies. Haven had also spent hours meditating to alleviate the jealousy that flared each time Heather flirted back. The temptation was always there to tell Jeremy to back off, that Heather was already spoken for, but the truth in that was in the lie, and Haven couldn’t afford to taint his business relationship with Jeremy, who owned a goat farm and provided the goat’s milk for the organic soaps Haven made and sold in his studio.

Jealousy and guilt, two things Haven was ashamed to carry. He needed to release that negative energy so he could focus on the priority tasks at hand, his studies and his business plan. Using his core strength, he sat upright with a quick lift of his torso, folded his legs in and stood in a swift and graceful motion. His mind may not be at ease, but at least he could rely on his physical strength to propel him forward.

Using the brass snuffer, he extinguished the tea light candles illuminating the dark meditation room. Perhaps he should have done his meditation in the sun room, but he thought he’d find better focus in the space that offered no distractions from the outside world. Unfortunately, the distractions were in his mind and heart, not in the environment.

Haven grabbed the mandala blanket because unlike most of the items in the studio, this was for his personal use. It had seen better days, but given his mother’s arthritis, he didn’t have the heart to ask her to make a new one and didn’t have the strength to let this one go. It had seen him through all of his training, from earning a bachelor’s degree in psychology, to becoming a yoga instructor, and through his self-study in the mystic arts of meditation, the chakras, crystals, and now Reiki.

He left the door open to signal to mystics that the room was available, and headed upstairs to his office. First order of business, make a note to record a couple meditations about releasing guilt and jealousy. One thing he had learned along his journey to enlightenment was that if he was experiencing a challenge, countless others were too. Even though he hadn’t figured out how to pay for the meditation mobile application he dreamed of providing to the world, he never missed an opportunity to record a meditation of spiritual need. Once he had the means to pay for the app development, having a library of meditations would cut down on time and stress.

Knowing the studio store inventory was low, he focused on the next essential task, ordering supplies. Jeremy would be by later with the goat’s milk. Haven tracked the order of soy wax to confirm it would also be delivered today so he could make the candles used in the studio, sold in the store, and provided to the practitioners as a benefit of their monthly membership to the studio.

The two-way radio in the docking station on his desk buzzed with a burst of static before his part-time store clerk and marketing consultant Cathlynn Merriweather said his name. Someday he hoped to have a decent office phone system, but that was an expense that would have to wait. For now, the walkie-talkies provided an inexpensive option to their communication needs.

“I’m here, Cat,” he said into the radio.

“I could use your assistance in the store,” she said slowly. He knew Cat well enough to know she was speaking through gritted teeth, clearly dealing with a difficult customer.

“I’ll be right there.” Wanting to ensure Cat was fine and provide the best customer service, Haven wasted no time in getting downstairs to the store. The large Victorian house he’d bought through a short sale had previously housed three separate apartments. With his dad’s help, he had gutted the entire house since it was in disrepair, and renovated it to become the mindful practice studio he had dreamed about when he started on the path to enlightenment. The first floor included the store, the large sun room, a self-service cafe, and the violet meditation room. The second floor had two more meditation rooms, his office, the classroom, and a large kitchen where Haven made soap, candles, sugar scrubs, and massage oils. The third floor, yet unfinished, was currently being used as storage space, but someday would also include a large studio apartment.

The store opened to the cafe and had an outdoor entrance so his mystics weren’t disturbed by the retail customers. When he came in through the archway at the back of the store, he found a woman with long, dark hair and a strange familiarity standing at the clerk’s counter with her arms crossed and impatience, maybe disdain, pinching her expression. Haven didn’t normally see auras unless he concentrated deeply, but her aura radiated dark green, nearly black. Haven breathed in a long, deep breath and asked the Greater Spirit to grace him with kindness, understanding, and patience.

After crossing the small space, he pressed his hands together in namaskar. “Namaste, welcome. I’m Haven,” he greeted, giving a subtle bow of his head before extending a hand to offer a handshake. To his surprise, the woman extended her hand. He wrapped both his around hers, hoping to warm the coldness emanating from her skin. Her aura darkened, no longer holding a green hue, and a harsh smile replaced the impatient expression. Haven sent another prayer to the Greater Spirit, this time asking for the power to accept this woman as she was and for protection from her negative energy.

“Sam,” she said, drawing out the m. “I need a birthday present for my sister. She’s into all this woo-woo stuff.”

Haven was curious why Cat hadn’t been able to assist, but that wasn’t a topic for him to pursue now. Instead, he projected positive energy. “I’d be happy to help you find something for your sister among our mystical gifts. What is your sister’s name?”

“Heather,” Sam responded, rolling her eyes. “She takes your classes. Now I can see why.”

Simply offering a smile, Haven didn’t succumb to the woman’s flirting. “Heather Wolfe is your sister?”

Another eye roll. “That’s her. So, what do you recommend? I’m between jobs, so I’m on a pretty tight budget.”

Heather had been considering enrolling in the crystal healing class that would start in a few weeks, but had admitted to being on her own tight budget because of the cruise. One of the retail items he carried in the store was a crystal healing deck. The cards could be carried to channel the healing power of the crystals and could also be used as an oracle deck. He had seen Heather looking at the package on more than one occasion. “Heather has an interest in crystals,” Haven said, signaling toward the crystal healing display. When they reached the shelves, he grabbed the deck. “This should be within your budget.”

Sam took the box and looked it over, once again rolling her eyes. “Twenty-two dollars?” She put the cards back on the shelf and stepped back as if they were carrying the plague. “I was thinking something in the ten dollar range.”

Heather bought the sugar scrubs on a regular basis. Haven thought something consumable might be a better gift coming from someone who carried so much negative energy. While he didn’t doubt Heather had enough positive energy to push aside any lingering negativity that might transfer from her sister with the birthday gift, it would still be safer to suggest something that wouldn’t be held for a long period of time. Leading her to the corner, he motioned at the sugar scrub display. “I have a variety of sugar scrubs, and in different sizes. The six ounce tubs are $14.95 and the four ounce tubs are $10.95. Heather enjoys the lavender scrub.”

With a sister who vibrated with so much negativity, Haven imagined Heather needed the lavender to calm her own energy.

“Perfect,” Sam proclaimed, snatching a four ounce tub of lavender sugar scrub from the display. “What about you? What flavor do you prefer?” he asked.

Haven ignored the flirting and answered the question honestly. “It depends on my mood and energy.”

Her eyes widened with delight and Haven realized his mistake. “And what would you use to say, get you in the mood to take a girl to dinner.”

“I’m not dating right now, so I couldn’t say.” He continued to offer a friendly smile despite being ready to retreat to the violet room for some more meditation and maybe a little aura cleansing.

“Shame. Here’s my number if you change your mind.”

Haven took the card she offered because his parents had taught him manners and kindness. “Thank you,” he said, stuffing the card in his pocket. Eager to expedite her departure, Haven led her to the clerk’s counter. Cat rang up the sugar scrub as Haven extracted a crystal from the collection next to the counter. “A free gift for you.” He offered the topaz to Sam, hoping its ability to transmute negative energies into positive would work for her. “Topaz is a good luck talisman. It can bring abundance and prosperity,” appealing to what he intuited as her life motivations. He opted to leave out the fact that the stone was also used to attract love by opening the heart chakra.

“A good luck charm, for me? Sexy and sweet,” she said, blowing him a kiss before snatching the stone from his hand. She gave it a quick look and shrugged before dropping it in her purse. When the transaction was complete, her harsh smile once again thinned her dark red lips. “Toodles, handsome Haven. Call me.”

With no motivation to find out what problems Cat had experienced with the customer, Haven retreated through the archway and headed to the sun room, opting to ignore his task list for a while longer. The forecast called for rain, but for now, the skies remained clear, a sign that he should take advantage of the powerful energy of the sun to cleanse his own aura after that negative encounter.

Chapter 2

Normally, the Mindful Masters of Self class provided a therapeutic cleanse at the end of a day filled with mindful and sometimes stressful pursuits. Today, however, Haven found himself off balance. In fact, his spirit had been teetering all too often as of late. He knew the cause — his attraction to and desire for Heather — but had yet to grasp the path to resolution.

In his younger years, Haven had been an arrogant go-getter, unafraid to ask girls, and then women, out. Somewhere along his journey to enlightenment, he had left the arrogance behind, but had retained the confidence. For reasons he had yet to understand, he held no confidence when it came to Heather. In fact, his feelings for her inspired self-doubt, something he had little experience with.

Haven had always prided himself on being decisive. It was a quality of nature, born from the biological connection to his mother. Aurora True-Masters possessed a mindful spirit, but that didn’t prevent her from being decisive. There were times when Haven had watched her reel in her decisive nature and make the conscious effort to pause and meditate before making what she called life-altering decisions. It been a long journey before Haven could exercise the same thoughtful restraint, but he’d never expected to reach a place on his journey where his ability to make a decision was blocked.

His father would say non-decision is its own decision, but Haven didn’t subscribe to Jonah’s perspective. He enjoyed thoughtful introspection as a part of the journey. He just wished now it served him in the same fulfilling way it always had.

“You ready to get this party started?” Heather asked as Haven approached with a tray of jasmine tea.

Her smile was contagious, as was her enthusiasm. “I prefer to think of it as a journey.”

“Well, every journey needs a few parties scattered along the way.”

“Very true,” he agreed. “Tell me what you have planned.”

Heather grabbed the portfolio from the floor next to her as Haven put the tray down and sat next to her on the mandala blanket. Even though the blanket was for his own personal meditations, on occasion he would use it in class for circle meditations. He had been searching for one for a long time to use in group practice, but had yet to find one that offered the same thoughtful peace this one did.

Retrieving a folder from the portfolio, Heather held it out to him. “I made copies of everything since I know you like to review things at your own pace. I’ve made little notes on each one with the day and port and any other relevant information.”

With a second folder placed in her lap, she pulled the first paper out. “We arrive in San Juan quite late, but there is a restaurant across the street from the hotel that will be open. I’ve already reserved space for us. The hotel also has an open patio that will accommodate a circle meditation for all twelve of us.”

She explained the schedule for each port, as well the plans for their one day at sea. The schedule was simple, with a morning meditation before breakfast on the upper deck that held the water park. Since the water park would not be open in the early morning, she claimed it would be the perfect spot for the meditations. She had found a lounge on the ship that would provide a quiet retreat for an evening meditation. At each destination, the group would visit a nearby beach for yoga before they were free to scatter and explore the island on their own. Heather had arranged excursions for those who had asked her to, some requiring an afternoon yoga session before returning to the ship instead of the morning yoga.

“This is fantastic,” Haven said, excited and a bit overwhelmed. “You are very good at your job.”

Heather shrugged, the pink that colored her cheeks sending a warmth through Haven as well. He was happy for the tight boxer briefs and loose linen slacks, but folded his hands in a peaceful pose to provide further cover of her effect on him.

“I’ve enjoyed this job more than any other I’ve held, but it’s not as fulfilling as I thought it would be.”

“What do you mean?” Haven asked.

She shrugged again and looked at her fiddling fingers. “Planning this trip for us, it’s exactly how I expected to feel working as a travel agent. For other clients, though, it can be very stressful. People can be, well, to be honest, they can be ass-holes. I understand that it is their money and their vacation and they want the most bang for their buck, but some people ask for the impossible and get angry and mean when I can’t deliver.”

Haven understood. He had grown up with the heart to help people, which is why he’d studied psychology in college. Through job shadow and internships, he had realized psychotherapy wasn’t his path. Then he’d fallen into ego and selfish gratification, a path that had nearly destroyed him. Meditation and encouragement from his parents had guided him on the path to holistic healing through self-discovery and mindfulness. While he knew he could offer the same practices as a psychotherapist, the education and licensing requirements required a path that didn’t align with his personal goals for enlightenment, so when he was finally able to put ego aside, he had chosen a less traditional path. It had taken a long time, but he had finally found success with the Mindful Master studio where he offered yoga and meditation instruction, and the home for the guided classes that had proven very popular. Now he was pursuing Reiki, more to help provide a way to offer relief to his mother as she struggled with arthritis, but also to expand his practice and generate additional income. Maybe someday he would also be able to put his mindfulness app out into the world as well.

“I have found that meditation helps me exercise patience when people project negative energy from whatever source it originates from. Is that helping with your job?”

“I meditate before bed, so it helps to release the negativity that seeps in throughout the day,” she said.

Haven reached for her fidgeting hands and held them still in his. “I encourage you to try a morning meditation. I have a couple I’ve recorded on patience that might be of help.”

“You record meditations?” she asked.

Nodding, he continued to hold her hands since she had yet to withdraw them. “I do. I’ve built quite a library of digital meditations.”

“That is great. You should sell them, or, oh my God, even better, you should put them in an app so people could meditate anytime, anywhere. I could meditate during lunch if I had guidance.”

“There are plenty of apps out there,” he admitted, a simple fact that provided more intimidation than motivation to pursue his dream.

“I’m sure there are, but they don’t have your voice or your thoughts. I always feel so relaxed, yet ready to face anything after your guided meditations. You really should think about it.”

Her enthusiasm prompted Haven to share the dream that he hadn’t even shared with his parents, mostly because it seemed so out of reach.

“I’ve been recording the meditations to do just that, but app development is expensive and I don’t have the funds to invest in that kind of project.”

Heather leapt off the mandala blanket, knocking over the two tea cups still half full of jasmine tea. The flat tray couldn’t contain the liquid.

“Oh, God! I’m so sorry. I’ll get some towels!” she ran out of the sun room and into the cafe where a few tables were occupied. Ignoring the inquisitive looks, Heather went to the cabinet with the towels and grabbed the entire stack.

When she reached the doorway, she ran into Haven’s solid body and stumbled back. Before falling flat on her butt, Haven caught her, pulling her up against his body. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Hmmm?” she hummed, taking mental inventory of every spot where their bodies touched. It might have been quicker, and possibly healthier, to tally the places where they weren’t maintaining contact.

“Heather, are you hurt?” he asked, his voice still quiet and patient.

“Fine, yeah, I’m fine. Not hurt. I have towels.” She lifted her hands to find them empty. “Crap.”

Haven released his firm grasp around her waist, allowing Heather to step back. She now took inventory of the towels scattered on the floor around them. “I’ll just, uh, pick these up.”

“I can do that,” he said, gripping her elbow.

“No, I insist,” she said, squatting despite his hold. That’s when she came face to…face? With a certain part of his anatomy. One of the parts she fantasized about. Often.

Look away, she told her self silently, but it was like a car wreck, she couldn’t look away no matter how much she knew she should.

Haven coughed and dropped to the floor in front of her. “Let me help,” he growled.

Heather’s face burned with embarrassment. Not only had she ruined his sacred mandala blanket, but she’d almost barreled through him before nearly falling on her butt and then like the sex-deprived, desperate woman she was, stared at his impressive man-package.

“Sorry,” she whispered, hoping the people scattered around the cafe hadn’t taken the whole scene in.

“No apologies. All an accident. Nothing is damaged.”

“What about your blanket? I spilled tea all over it. I know how special that is to you.” In an early lesson, he had explained the importance of connecting with your meditation tools, to use Mala bracelets or crystals that held meaning, either through the healing properties of the stones and crystals or some sentimental connection, using the same philosophy to choose a cushion or blanket, incense, candles, aromatherapy oils, whatever.

“It’s not the first tea stain and won’t be the last. It’s fine. I brought it in here to give it a quick rinse with cold water. Very little actually got on the blanket.”

The genuine tone in his voice assured her that he held no contempt for her clumsiness, but it didn’t alleviate the guilt.

Haven took the towels from her, handing one back. “I’m going to rinse this and put it in my office. Can you spot check the floor and take care of the tea tray?”

Taking the towel, she smiled despite the guilt and embarrassment. “I’ll try not to break anything,” she said.

Haven’s smile sent her heartbeat into overdrive. “I have every faith in you.”

Ignoring the glances from the others in the room, Heather returned to the sun room, wiping the floor and collecting the tray. When she returned to the cafe, Haven was there, talking with a group at one of the tables. She took that as her cue, cleaning up the tea set before heading back to the sun room and collecting her portfolio.

“You haven’t told me what made you jump off the mandala,” Haven said, making her leap out of her skin.

She turned to find him only inches away, looking strong, and curious, and delicious.

“I, uh,” oh, God, there she went again, searching for words but unable to grasp a syllable that might sound thoughtful or intelligent. Putting mindfulness into practice, Heather took a deep breath, trying to focus on where it touched her body and how it felt, but unable to distract her attention from Haven’s smile.

“Heather,” he said, the two syllables a beautiful symphony in her ear. “Do you want to tell me?”

Heather nodded and took another deep breath. “In my previous life, before I was a travel agent, and a cell phone salesperson, and a dinner hostess, and a sandwich artisan, I was a software engineer.”

“Software engineer?” he asked, looking perplexed.

She nodded again. “Yeah, I wrote code. Complex software programs for corporate America. Woohoo!” She did a single fist pump, letting all the sarcasm spring free.

“It was that horrible?” he asked, his hand resting on her arm and making her forget for a few moments they were talking about her first love.

“I love writing code. I didn’t love how the corporate world sucked the life out of me at a slow yet steady pace. We don’t yet live in a society where women can succeed as software engineers.” She had struggled for years, starting out as a government contractor in national defense before making the move to banking, then retail. The one constant in all of those environments was that women weren’t welcome to climb the ladder. It was a bit disheartening.

“We live in a world that would implode if women didn’t succeed in every single field,” he insisted and Heather’s heart didn't just skip a beat, but hopped, skipped, jumped before it did a happy dance and begged for him to say more.

“It’s too bad the rest of the world doesn’t believe that.”

Haven shook his head. “Doesn’t matter what the rest of the world believes. What do you believe?”

What did she believe? No one had ever asked her that before. Heather had rocked her job. The stats proved that. Her code passed quality testing more than anyone else on any team she’d been on. “I believe I’m the best programmer in the world.”

The words had never before crossed her lips, at least not in front of other people. She’d uttered the self-affirmation in the mirror countless times, praying each time that someone else would believe it to be true, praying that she didn’t have to sell her soul to leave her mark in this world.

“Heather Wolfe, best programmer in the world. Why tell me this now?” he asked, confusion once again pinching his brow.

Heather smiled and shook her head, knowing it was crazy, but for the first time since she’d made the decision to leave the corporate world, control of her destiny seemed within reach. “I could write a meditation app in my sleep, Haven. If this is something you want, I can do it for you, at a fraction of what you’d pay anyone else.”

Now Heaven shook his head, disbelief pinching his brow even more. “You can’t be serious.”

Heather nodded, never more sure of anything in her life. “I don’t even need to meditate on this. You said it yourself, the opportunity, about your Greater Spirit bringing us together. I was meant to be your programmer, to write code for your meditation app. God, Haven, I’ve never been so sure of anything in my life.”

Of course, them coming together had been a manipulation, Heather’s way of steering Haven’s romantic interest in her direction. But maybe their relationship was meant to be more. Maybe he wasn’t her soul mate after all, but a business partner, someone to lead her down a path of career fulfillment.

Because without a career, Heather had been lost. Yes, she enjoyed being a travel agent, just like she’d enjoyed selling cell phones. Regardless of that enjoyment, something had been missing. She thought it was love, but now she realized it was personal satisfaction, the knowledge that her personal skill and expertise had made an impact not on a single person, but on the world. Heather had always been determined to make the world a better place. That’s why national defense had appealed to her when she graduated college. When that path had proved too stressful and offered no professional growth, she was convinced the corporate sector would provide the fulfillment she longed for, only to come up short once again. After she’d failed in retail, Heather had convinced herself she was the problem, not her chosen career path. Fortunately, she’d been frugal, saving more than spending, so she could afford to take a low-key job until she figured out the rest of her life. And unlike her sister, Heather had always lived within her means, putting twenty percent of ever paycheck into her savings account and giving up the luxuries in order to make ends meet.

She had, however, reached a point in her life where she wanted more…more from her career, more from her life, more for her heart. She wanted a man to love, someone to share her future with, and a career she could be proud of, one that provided for the family she dreamed of.

Expecting him to say he needed to meditate on it, something he encouraged all of his students to do, Heather breathed in a deep breath and prepared herself to accept that delay in his decision. The breath lodged in her throat when he nodded. “You’re right. This is our destiny. Together, we’re going to fulfill both of our dreams.”

Chapter 3

Surviving the longest three days of her life, Heather thought maybe the plane ride would give her and Haven an opportunity to discuss the meditation app and devise a plan of action. Instead, the plane ride proved to be as chaotic as every moment since they had agreed to embark on this journey.

Between wrapping things up at work before her vacation, and packing for the vacation itself, and dealing with her sister who insisted they celebrate Heather’s birthday – two weeks late – by hanging out at a bar in Sunset Valley all night, she’d had little time to do anything except fantasize about this project. Okay, not entirely true. She’d had plenty of time to fantasize about Haven, talking to him about code until his eyes glazed over and he eased her down on a yoga mat and had his wicked, spiritual way with her.

None of that had panned out. Haven was attentive, she had to give him that, just not to her. There were ten other travelers on this tropical retreat, and every single one of them demanded a chunk of Haven’s time during the journey from New Hampshire to San Juan, Puerto Rico. By the time they’d arrived in San Juan, checked into the hotel, and eaten dinner, Heather was ready to collapse. Anywhere would do, the hotel bed, the sandy beach just yards from the hotel, even the restaurant chair.

“Let me get you tucked in,” Haven had offered. Twelve hours earlier, those words would have made her panties go up in smoke, but when he’d uttered them last night, her eyes were already closed, panties securely in place.

Now they were boarding the ship, but it wasn’t exhaustion that prickled Heather’s nerves. For the next seven days, she would be in close quarters with Haven. While this was what she had manipulated, doubts sparked every cell in her body. She had never been on a cruise ship, but knew the cabins would be smaller than any hotel room she’d ever stayed in, the bathroom smaller too. The quarters weren’t just tight, but intimate in ways that shattered her comfort zone into a million tiny pieces. Yes, she had created this scenario knowing it was a bad idea, but doing it anyhow because she’d been existing in a zone of safety far too long.

Their group of twelve all had rooms in the same area of the ship, port side, midship, just a couple floors down from the first main floor. They all made their way together, everyone seeming pleased with the accommodations as they opened their cabin doors. Now it was time for Heather to do the honors with the cabin she and Haven would be sharing for the next seven nights. Swiping the key card across the panel, she got the green light and turned the handle, only to stop short when she spotted the bed.

The one giant bed.

“Ooomph,” Haven grunted as he plowed into Heather, making her stumble forward. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to stop. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, but the room…” she stepped in, Haven following, until she got far enough in that she could step aside. “I don’t…they said the room would have two beds.”

While the thought of sharing this giant bed with Haven turned Heather’s insides to a warm, gooey mess, she knew Haven would have a problem with it. She turned to him, ready to apologize, but when she was greeted with his warm smile, the words slipped from her mind.

“It’ll be fine. We can make this work,” he assured her.

Did that mean he wanted…no, Heather couldn’t allow that thought to settle. The fantasies were fine because she knew they were just that, but if she allowed herself to think deeper than the fantasies, she’d just be setting herself up for disappointment. She had a solid plan to spark his interest, she just needed to exercise a little patience.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you two are together. I just thought you were doubling up to save money,” Cat said from the doorway.

Heather pushed by Haven to face Cat. “There’s a mix-up. We were supposed to have separate beds.”

“Well, reowwwww,” Cat responded, making a cat-like motion with her hands. “You two have fun.”

Cat closed the door with her quick retreat, leaving Heather all alone with Haven in their tiny cabin and the giant bed. “I’ll go to guest services, see if they can change our cabin. The reservation shows we are supposed to have two twin beds.”

Haven took a couple steps toward her to close the distance and gripped her arm in that gentle and comforting way that always grounded her in the moment. Heather had always been confident around men, to her own detriment, usually, but that was better than acting like a bumbling fool. She didn’t understand why Haven brought that side of her out. “If that will put your mind at ease, then go ahead, but the one bed doesn’t bother me.”

Heather nodded, desperate to leave but unable to step out of his firm yet gentle hold. “I just don’t want you to think…” To think what? That she’d manipulated the reservation so they would have to share a bed? It wasn’t a stretch considering she’d done just that so they could share a room.

“I don’t think anything,” he assured her. “Take a deep breath, Heather. Everything is going to be fine.”

She did as instructed, using the four-seven-eight count — four on the inhale, hold for seven, and exhale for eight — for three breaths.

“Good,” Haven said, his mouth agape as if he was about to say something else when a knock at the door interrupted him.

Haven released his hold and went to the door. “Good afternoon, sir. I’m Alessandro, your room steward. You are Haven Masters, no?”

Haven nodded and extended his hand to shake the steward’s. “I’m Haven, and this is Heather.”

Alessandro then extended his hand to Heather. His grip was warm and firm, welcoming and friendly, as was his handsome smile and sparkling eyes. “Lady Heather, so nice to make your acquaintance. If there is any way I may be of service to you, day or night, please, just call on me.”

“Oh, well, yes, there is the matter of the bed,” Heather blurted. She wished the single bed didn’t make her so nervous. It’s not that she didn’t want to share a bed with Haven, because God knew she wanted that more than anything. She just worried that she’d end up wrapped around him on their first night and completely scare him off. “We were supposed to have two twin beds, but there is only one bed in here.”

“Oh, my lovely lady, my apologies. That is my mistake and no problem at all to fix. We can separate the beds for you before this evening.”

“Oh,” she breathed, a bit embarrassed she didn’t know the bed was actually two beds pushed together.

Alessandro, with his dark hair and mocha skin, looked perplexed. “Does this not make you happy?”

“Oh, yes, it’s great. I just, well, this is my first cruise. I didn’t know that was two beds.”

“Nothing at all to worry about,” Alessandro insisted. “Is there another way I may be of service? I am here for you for the entire cruise and wish to make it as comfortable as possible.”

Haven shook his head. “Thank you, but I think we are all set. We’re eager to get out on deck and take in the view before an afternoon meditation.”

Alessandro smiled. “You won’t be disappointed, sir. San Juan is a beautiful city and there is much to see from our luxurious ship. Please, enjoy, and don’t hesitate to call on me if you need anything.”

Heather and Haven extended their thanks as Alessandro departed their room and made his way down the hall. “Friendly chap,” Haven said. “I think he likes you.”

Unable to stop the snort that echoed in the room, Heather shook her head. Men who looked like Alessandro, or Haven, didn’t just like her. Average to the core, Heather had to work for that kind of affection.

With the bed situation under control, they left the room and headed back to the elevators to make their way to the Sky Deck where they planned to meet for the first group meditation.

Halfway to the elevators, Heather realized she had forgotten her water bottle. Since better hydration was a personal goal, she told Haven to go on ahead, that she’d meet him on deck after she grabbed the bottle and filled it up.

Once Heather grabbed the bottle, she took quick steps, hoping she might catch up with Haven, but nearly plowed into Cat as she stepped out of her cabin three doors down from Heather’s.

“I really need to slow down,” Heather admitted. “These narrow passageways are dangerous.”

“Speaking of dangerous, when did you and Haven hook up? I’m usually pretty perceptive about these things, but I didn’t have an inkling.” Cat’s cabin mate, Zoe Stephens smiled with keen interest.

“Oh, no,” Heather said, shaking her head. “Haven and I aren’t…the bed was a mix-up…Alessandro is going to fix it so there are two beds.”

“Oh, really? Well, that’s too bad. Haven needs a woman in his life and you’re a hot ticket. I was rooting for you.”

“She was,” Zoe added. “She was already talking wedding video with me.”

Zoe was half-owner of A to Z Eventography. Together with her business partner, Griffin Andrews, they recorded videos for all the local events, weddings, graduations, bar mitvahs, even births. According to Zoe, they did much more than just record, but Heather couldn’t wrap her head around all the steps that went into making a finished video.

“Well, thanks, but…”

“But you should totally go for it,” Cat interjected. “I mean, you’re single, right? You and Haven would make beautiful blond-hair and blue-eyed babies.”

Yes, yes they would. That was another of Heather’s fantasies, two beautiful babies that looked just like Haven. She even dreamed of fraternal twins, one girl, one boy, because she wanted a daughter, but only one because having a younger sister was exhausting on a good day. “Haven doesn’t seem interested in dating,” Heather pointed out. She knew this because she’d been paying attention, looking for the perfect moment to make her move. It had been months and the moment had yet to present itself, but she had hope this cruise would pay off. It was an expensive investment just to get the beautiful man to take an interest in her, but the direct approach had failed her for too long. Gaining Haven’s affection required subtlety.

Heather didn’t know Cat or Zoe well enough to admit her nefarious plans, so she was glad when they reached the elevator and a couple of already-tanned and very buff men stole their attention.

Still needing water, Heather got off the elevator at the Aloha deck that housed the all-day cafeteria. She filled her water and strolled out to the pool area, finding the stairs that would take her up to the Sky deck.

All of the other mystics were already there, leaning on the rails and taking in the fabulous view. She took position next to Haven because there was space there and his mysterious scent always drew her to him. She knew he used aromatherapy oils, but had no idea what the blend was that made him smell so enticing. It was like vanilla cake on an ocean breeze.

“This view is amazing,” she said, focusing on the historic fort on the hill and trying to forget the sight of Haven’s very fine tushy as he leaned on the rail.

Haven reached over and gripped her hand. “Thank you for this. I had a vision, but no clarity on how to make it happen. We are here because of you.”

Every inch of skin tingled, strongest where Haven held her hand, but increasing in intensity as they stood there, Haven’s smile, the sincerity in his deep blue eyes, all of it creating a hypnotic spell she couldn’t step away, or even look away from.

“It’s time for our meditation,” he whispered, still holding her gaze.

Heather nodded, but it wasn’t until the mystics dispersed that he altered his gaze and released her hand, leaving her off balance and in desperate need of a meditation to ground herself again.

Knowing it would be impossible for their group of twelve to enjoy dinner together every evening, Haven had taken Heather’s suggestion that he offer a sign-up for the mystics to have dinner with him. Each mystic picked three nights to occupy a five-person table. Some nights the table was full, others only a few spots were taken. In hindsight, he wished they had left a couple nights off the list, not because he didn’t enjoy his time with the mystics, or because he felt he needed to dine alone, but because he wanted to enjoy the intimacy of a meal with Heather.

Sounded a lot like a date, and maybe that wasn’t appropriate during the cruise since they were sharing a cabin, but Haven decided he would figure out how to make that happen when they returned home to Lilac Ridge.

There was no formal dinner planned for the group during their first night aboard ship since the ship had yet to set sail and everyone was scattered, getting acclimated to their temporary home, exploring, or resting after the long journey the day before. Haven was ready to unwind with a glass of chardonnay and light music, and he found the perfect place near the casino, a jazz musician named Vinnie strumming his guitar as Haven sat in the window seat watching dusk fade into the peaceful darkness of night. The ship would set sail at 10 p.m., so he had over an hour before he’d make his way to one of the outside decks to bid farewell to San Juan.

The familiar giggles of two women drew his attention from the window. He spotted Heather, Zoe, and Cat walking from the casino area, Zoe and Cat waving flirtatiously as they moseyed along. Heather gave just a subtle wave, her cheeks an endearing shade of pink. “Ladies, care to join me?” he asked, waving his hand in welcome at the empty seats surrounding the table. “We would love to,” Cat said, giving Heather a subtle nudge.

Heather took the seat perpendicular to Haven, but before the other two sat, Zoe grabbed Cat’s arm. “Oh, hey, we’re supposed to meet Brandon and Tamarra on the Serenity deck. We need to go change into our swimsuits.”

“Oh, right, yeah,” Cat said to Zoe before turning to Haven and Heather. “We’ll catch up with you guys later. Ta-ta for now.”

They both gave another flirtatious wave and locked arms as they skipped away. “Those two are trouble,” Haven laughed, turning his attention to Heather, her cheeks even brighter than before but the shade no less endearing. Her gray eyes always seemed to lighten when she blushed, the mystery of what she held behind them intriguing him.

“With a capital T,” she agreed, smiling and shaking her head as her focus remained on the two women.

“Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked. Haven didn’t indulge in alcohol, but he enjoyed a glass or two of wine on occasion, particularly on nights when the Greater Spirit encouraged him to ease on his focus and simply relax and enjoy the moment.

“Wine would be lovely,” she said, her posture rigid.

“You are entirely too tense right now,” he said. “Here, let me help you relax. Do you mind if I put my hands on your shoulders.”

She seemed to stiffen even more, but shook her head.

Haven closed his eyes and connected with the Reiki energy before setting his intention to reduce Heather’s stress.

“I’m just going to adjust your energy, encourage a shift so you can release the tension and enjoy the here and now,” he explained, grateful for the pause between songs so he could use his soft, meditation voice. “Just breathe in, following the path of the breath and let your mind go to a calming place, where you feel light and free and can breathe easy.”

He gave her a few moments, his own breaths aligning with hers, deep and long. “Did you find your calming place?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered on her next exhale.

“Tell me where,” he encouraged, because it was important that she communicate that place to secure it in her mind. He had often found during individual guided meditations that most people could not be grounded in the moment if they did not communicate their place of peace. He had discovered in his early days of guided meditation that people would simply tell him they had a place, but would admit later to only saying that so he would start with the session. That’s how he learned the importance of verbalizing it, along with their intention for the meditation.

It had only been a few months since Haven had started studying Reiki, but he found it wasn’t so different from meditation when it came to intention. With the practice itself, he had already benefited immeasurably. He found it easier, more natural, to see and interact with people’s chakras than it was to read their auras. While he had no trouble seeing the darker auras when they dominated a person, he still struggled to see the more subtle or less dominant auras, and the amount of concentration it took drained his own energy. The chakras, though, was a more natural connection, one he wanted to pursue in his practice.

“I’m sitting next to the small waterfall along the meditation path behind your studio. The moss is soft and cool, and I like the sound of the waterfall.”

“Good. Feel the mist of the water, cooling your body, easing your spirit. Imagine your breath as the mist, and picture where it touches your body as you first breathe it in and then release it back to nature.”

Haven would love to do a body scan on Heather, to see where her energy vibrated, ebbed, and flowed, but it almost seemed an intimate invasion since she hadn’t invited him. Instead, he simply used position six, placing his hands on her shoulders, cupping them in a gentle connection that applied no pressure but allowed the energy to flow between them.

What he found, which did not surprise him, was tension out of alignment with the relaxing environment they had entered hours ago.

Letting the energy guide him, he moved his hands along her jaw bone and allowed his fingertips to form a V over her throat chakra. This position allowed the energy to strengthen her self-expression and communication, something he knew she struggled with.

Wanting also to encourage balance, he straightened his fingers and shifted his hands so his palms were over her temples.

When he felt that the energy was more balance, he brought his hands into a namaskar and closed the energy connection, taking a moment to balance his own energy through breathing and mindfulness.

“Wow, that was intense,” Heather said as he sat down, stretching her neck to one side, then the other. “What was that?”

“That was Reiki. Are you familiar with the practice?” he asked.

“I’ve heard of it, but I’m not sure exactly what it does.”

“It is a Japanese practice of channeling energy. Well, it’s a little more complex than that, but as you can feel, it is powerful. The therapy treats your whole person, body, emotions, spirit, and is a great method for achieving relaxation.”

“How come you don’t offer this at your studio?” she asked.

The music started once again, Haven now realizing the musician had taken a break. He waved the server over and ordered another chardonnay, Heather ordering the same. “I’ve only just begun studying it. Honestly, you are the first person I have done this with. I’ve been learning by doing the practice on myself.”

“I feel so different, relaxed,” she said, in awe by the quick transformation.

“I focused only on a couple areas. In practice, I would do a body scan, become familiar with how energy flowed within all your chakras, and then let the energy guide me to where you needed balance and healing. This mini session was just a quick fix, so to speak.”

“I really needed that. Any time you need someone to practice on, I’m your girl.”

Haven liked the idea of having someone other than himself to practice and learn from, but practicing therapy on Heather intrigued him. While Reiki wasn’t intimate in the romantic sense, it was in a different way, and because his interest in her held equal measures of spiritual knowledge and intimate desires, his heart kicked up a few beats at just the thought of exploring her body’s energy.

The server delivered their drinks and Haven held his up, both of them saying, “Cheers,” as their glasses dinged in perfect harmony.

“Do you want to talk about why you were so tense?” he asked. Heather possessed an intense inner strength. He felt that energy whenever she was near, but she wasn’t one to open up. She always smiled, put on a brave face, so to speak, even when her energy communicated something other than happiness.

“I’m not sure,” she said, but the words contradicted the energy passing between them. She practically vibrated with it, as if her truth was fighting its way out and a part of her was fighting just as hard to keep it locked up.

“I don’t believe that. Are you worried about the retreat? I know how much work you put into this, how important it is for everything to be perfect. You need to stop worrying and enjoy it, be in the moment Heather, not trapped in a future that doesn’t need you to control its outcome. Everything will be just as it was meant to be.”

“It’s not the retreat, its…” her words dropped off and she took a long drink of the chardonnay. Haven wondered how it tasted on her lips, on her tongue, and had to take a deep breath to ground himself in the moment rather than the fantasy of kissing her beautiful mouth.

“You can tell me, Heather. Anything. I don’t judge, I hope you know that. Speaking your truth will help you enjoy this retreat. If you keep it locked away, stress will rule your experience and you will have missed an opportunity to free yourself from whatever is holding you back.”

“I,” she hesitated, taking a deep breath before looking him straight in the eye. Her eyes were dark again, holding onto her secret. Haven smiled in encouragement, hoping she trusted him enough to share. “I have a huge crush on you, and Zoe and Cat are trying to play matchmaker, and I know it’s inappropriate because you’re my master — oh, that sounds bad — teacher, right, you’re my teacher and I don’t ever ramble around men, but you make me nervous and why are you smiling like that?”

He was already sitting close enough to touch her, so instead of pausing and making a mindful decision about what to do next, he trusted his instincts, his hand cupping her jaw, thumb stroking her cheek. Not wanting to let the moment pass, he leaned in, brushing his lips against hers, the caress a question, and her sweet little sigh the answer he sought.

Angling his lips away before the kiss turned to something that should be shared in privacy and not a public area of the ship, he rested his forehead against hers, his eyes opening first, watching as hers fluttered open. “Did you do that to shut me up?” she asked.

Haven shook his head. He should tell her that he had wanted to kiss her for months, confess that he’d channeled energy into her throat chakra to open up communication, but now it seemed like a self-serving manipulation, something that went against his beliefs and practice.

Instead of admitting how he felt, he decided self-preservation was best for both of them. He was sharing a room with her, a very small room, and that situation was intimate enough without him crossing the line as her spiritual guide. “I need to meditate,” he offered, licking his lips to get one last taste of her before he turned and rushed away.

Chapter 4

Heather’s head was still spinning from the kiss, but watching Haven run away threw her completely off balance.

She sat before falling, taking another long sip of the wine and realizing there wasn’t going to be enough of it to get her through this first night at sea…and they hadn’t even left port yet. She tried to quiet her mind, but the noise from the casino and the musician, and all the people, it compounded the crazy thoughts. The moment required mindful reflection, but that was a concept Heather had never mastered. Her mind liked to wander. Back in the days when she was programming, she’d write code even in her dreams. Since leaving the tech world, she still struggled to quiet her mind, always filling her thoughts with events of the day or worries for the future, sometimes thinking of what job she should try next, but usually fantasizing about being back in tech, only living the dream instead of the nightmare she’d left behind.

Now, her mind was consumed with how stupid she’d been. This is why she’d stopped using the direct approach with men, it never worked. She wasn’t sure if it intimidated them to have a woman be so direct and assertive or if they just preferred to take the lead, run the show, control the game. Heather had grown tired of playing the game, but it seemed she was right back in the midst of it with Haven.

He ran off to meditate. That was probably a better idea than indulging in more wine, something Heather rarely did. She could blame the wine for her head spinning — not Haven’s kiss — but that would be a lie.

Meditation was a good idea. She hadn’t mastered mindful reflection, but that didn’t mean she shouldn’t try it now. She couldn’t go back to the room, Haven might be there, so she headed toward the stairs to hit one of the upper decks. Maybe she’d just take in the view.

Making her way up and out, Heather recited her mantra over and over. You got this. You own this. You are unstoppable. The words helped ground her. At the back of the ship, she perched along the rail and realized the ship was getting ready to leave port. She hadn’t wanted to miss this, so took a moment to be grateful for the timing of everything that transpired instead of fretting over it. Heather had imagined sharing this moment with Haven, but that option sank into the depths of the dark water with her foolish proclamation.

“Heather, hey, why are you alone?” Heather recognized Cat’s voice and turned to find her standing with Zoe.

“Haven went to meditate,” she explained. Trying to ignore the puzzling looks, Heather turned back to the water. The two women squeezed in on either side of her, their inquisitive glances throwing Heather over the edge. “Long story short, I basically told him I like him, he kissed me, then he ran off.”

The two women gasped and giggled. “He kissed you?” Zoe asked, the excitement reflecting what Heather had felt when Haven’s lips first pressed to hers. Then reality checked back in.

“Clearly it was horrifying since he ran off to meditate,” Heather corrected.

“You don’t know that,” Zoe said. “Maybe he had a, you know, reaction…”

“A below the waist reaction,” Cat said, nudging Heather with her elbow.

“Someone like Haven, who has his Zen thing going on all the time, wouldn’t know what to do if he lost control of his body like that,” Zoe added.

“You probably threw him off center. You know how he’s always preaching to find your center,” Cat explained, making Heather dizzy with the tag team.

Off center would be fine except for one thing. “He’s also always encouraging us to ground ourselves in the moment,” Heather responded.

“Like Zoe said, you rocked his Zen, threw him off balance. I’ve been working for Haven for two years and never once have I seen him with a girlfriend or heard of him dating. There’s lots of speculation, but it’s all just rumors, nothing solid. He might just be out of practice.”

Haven didn’t kiss like he was out of practice. Like everything else he did, he had kissing mastered. Heather’s lips still tingled from their brief connection.

“What rumors?” Heather asked.

“Well, I’ve heard rumors that he’s gay, but I straight up asked him once and he said no. I’ve also heard that he was married and butchered his wife into little pieces and now he’s trying to find peace with what he did, but I don’t buy that. I’ve dated plenty of guys who were serial killer material, and Haven doesn’t fall into that category.”

“Have you dated Haven?” Heather asked, because even though she hadn’t heard rumors about the man, she’d heard plenty about Cat.

“Oh, no, I never pee where I sleep. I like working for Haven, and he’s adorable, but no, I would never date him.”

Brandon and Tamarra stumbled over to them, the two of them wrapped around each other as if they’d been tied in a knot. “Oh hey, we just ran into Haven by the poolside bar. He’s looking for you,” Tamarra said to Heather while Brandon nuzzled her neck.

“So much for meditating,” Zoe mumbled with a chuckle.

“He probably figured out how to ground himself in the moment and wants to finish what he started,” Cat said, waggling her brow.

“We should go meditate, baby,” Brandon said against Tamarra’s ear, a big smile illuminating her face. Jealousy gave Heather a not so subtle jab in the gut as she imagined herself wrapped up with Haven like them, him whispering all kinds of suggestive things in her ear.

Before she could push it aside, a shiver raced through her. “You need to go find him,” Cat encouraged, but Heather was thinking now would be the perfect time to return to her room and fall asleep, or at least fake it, so she didn’t have to face Haven again tonight.

With the ship pushing back from the dock, conversation lulled, but not Brandon and Tamarra’s flirting. Heather wanted what they had, the easy affection, the shared look of love as they couldn’t pull their gazes from each other. With a sigh, Heather turned and looked out over the water, bidding farewell to San Juan and any hope she had of a tropical tryst with Haven.

Chapter 5

Heather began to stretch in an effort to push the sleep out of her weary body, only to stop short when she felt the weight of something down her leg, and the press of something else against her butt.

She’d been horrified last night when she returned to the cabin and found the giant bed hadn’t been separated. The room steward was nowhere to be found, and Heather didn’t want to risk having to face Haven, so she opted just go with it, get in her pajamas, and try to sleep. Still awake when Haven came in some time later, she ignored him whispering her name, asking if she was awake, and hoped her fake sleep breathing was enough to convince him.

Now, with his body pressed against hers, his arm stretching down her leg, and a very obvious erection sending a thrill and an unhealthy dose of need through her, she had no idea how to discreetly ease out of bed without waking him and making this all the more awkward.

Haven took a deep breath, as if he too was coming awake, his body stretching against hers and increasing the contact. He let out a little moan, his fingers caressing her thigh. “You smell so good,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck through her hair.

Was he still sleeping? How had he gone from kissing her to running away, to nuzzling her neck and other parts? “Haven?” she whispered, hoping that would prompt him to wake up and check back in with reality.

She knew the moment he realized just where he was because his long, deep breaths stopped. For several long beats, there was silence and stillness, his fingers no longer tracing enticing patterns across her skin.

“Heather?” he finally breathed, his fingers pressing into her flesh, firm but gentle and just as erotic as the caress.

“I’m awake,” she admitted.

“I—” but his words got hung up. She knew he must be embarrassed, at least hoped she wasn’t the only one warring with how to handle the situation.

“It’s fine. I get it. I know men often wake up this way. It has nothing to do with me, it’s just something that happens.”

“If you’re referring to my current state of arousal, it’s got everything to do with you.”

Those words sent a shiver of ecstasy up her spine and down her legs, causing her body to clench with desire. Haven groaned again when her butt pressed more firmly against him as a reaction to the shiver. “Sorry,” she whispered, unsure if she should slide away from him or remain still so she didn’t have to face him.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing. Running off last night, then accosting your body like this, it’s not who I am, Heather, at least not anymore.”

She really didn’t mind him accosting her body, after all, she’d manipulated the travel arrangements in hopes something like this would happen, but the running away after he’d kissed her still nagged at her ego. “I put you on the spot last night. I’ve learned how to keep my impulses under lock and key, thanks to your class, but I guess the sea air and sun got to me yesterday.”

“Acting on your impulses isn’t always a bad thing. In fact, sometimes it can be good, but I don’t want to take advantage of you or our situation.”

How could he think he was taking advantage of her? She was the one trying to take advantage of him. “You’re not taking advantage,” she assured him, not ready to confess her own manipulation.

“I used to be impulsive, before I started on my journey to enlightenment. I hurt a lot of people, women. I don’t want to hurt you. I needed to meditate last night because I didn’t want to act on my impulses.”

But she wanted him to act on his impulses. If that kiss was an indication of anything, then he liked her as much as she liked him. It seemed ridiculous to keep dancing around the subject and treat it like the big elephant in the room. Turning, she made sure to grind her butt against him just a little, hoping to tease the self-control right out of him. “What about now?” she asked, her fingers tracing down his strong arm. “Do you want to act on your impulses now?”

Not waiting for an answer, she kissed him this time, hoping she wouldn’t regret letting her assertive side off its leash. Without hesitation, Haven’s arm went around her, pulling her right up against his body beneath the sheet and comforter. He wore only shorts, her fingers finding his bare chest, her palms loving the scrape of the thin layer of hair across his firm muscles.

Heather threw her leg over his, desperate to increase the connection and to encourage his hand to wander and explore. Obeying the silent command, his hand moved down her back and over her butt before sliding down her thigh and gripping her knee. He pulled her leg further over his, and she moaned a little when he ground his erection against her very core.

A quiet jingle invaded the moment and Haven sighed, his tongue withdrawing from its hot exploration of her mouth as his forehead came to rest against hers. Heather opened her eyes to find his still closed. The jingle grew progressively louder and she realized it must be an alarm on his phone.

“We have yoga,” she sighed, remembering the schedule she had so meticulously planned for this retreat.

“I have an obligation to my mystics,” he said, as if she needed an explanation. His eyes opened, the irises bright blue despite the dim light of the room. “And we have a busy day, but please say you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”

The schedule was clear in her mind and tonight the dinner reservations were fully booked. “You already have dinner plans,” she reminded him.

“A walk on deck under the moonlight after dinner then?”

It sounded so romantic and exactly what she’d hoped for.

“Yes,” she said, earning a beautiful smile from the man holding her.

Haven would have preferred to stay in bed with Heather all day and not just finish what they started, but spend the day getting to know each other in the most intimate way possible. They still had the night to look forward to. The feel of Heather’s body against his, the way her hair smelled like an ocean breeze, the softness of her skin under his fingers, the way she tasted.

He wanted to taste more of her, every inch of skin, the sweet juices between her legs.

Breathing in a deep breath, Haven curled his toes in the sand and grounded himself in the moment. He needed to concentrate on his current task, learning how to use an air tank, as they prepared to go scuba diving to a reef on St. Thomas. Half the group had signed up for this excursion. Haven had been excited that Heather found it because he’d always been told you had to be certified to go scuba diving. This company provided a lesson and training, then guided the divers out to the reef. It was only about forty feet under water, and there was a guide for every three divers in the group. With the classroom portion complete, they were now getting the gear on and heading into the water for that part of the training before they headed to the reef.

Heather’s excitement had been contagious since the moment they left the ship. Haven hoped part of that excitement was memories from waking up together and anticipation of the evening ahead. He had been distracted the moment she stripped out of her beach dress, revealing a bikini that didn’t qualify as skimpy, but revealed enough of her soft, creamy skin to leave little to the imagination. Four strings stretched across her hips, at the front connecting to turquoise spandex that formed a V as it dove down to hide her mysteries. The back was full, covering her sweet curves, but clinging to them in a way that inspired his imagination. The top comprised of two triangles of fabric held together by strings knotted at her neck and back. Haven could picture himself tugging on the ends to release the knots and letting the pieces fall to the floor.

One of the most enticing parts of her body was the navel piercing. The blue crystal butterfly covered her belly button, with jewels dangling even lower, inviting his mouth to come and explore.

“You ready to take the dive?” she asked as he waddled up next to her. The diving equipment now covered her torso, but Haven still took in her long legs and pretty toes, her nails painted the same color as the swimsuit. A gold toe ring graced the second toe on each foot, and a turquoise ankle bracelet decorated her right ankle. It wasn’t warm enough in New Hampshire for sandals, so it wasn’t until they reached San Juan that Haven got the first glimpse of her foot jewelry. He’d never had a foot fetish, but everything about Heather fascinated him, from her sandy blonde hair, to her gray eyes, to her warm smile…all the way to her turquoise toes.

He was ready to take the dive, not just into the Caribbean, but with the woman smiling next to him. Yes, she threw him off balance, but he’d been comfortable for too long and needed someone who challenged him to be a better man, to strive for more than the easy life he’d settled into.

The clear water kissed their feet, the cool waves inviting them in. Chris, one of the four scuba instructors leading their group, came up on the other side of Heather. Jealousy surged through Haven as Chris smiled at Heather and talked about the next steps. The instructor had flirted with her from the moment they arrived. Haven hadn’t felt the pang of jealousy in years, not since his last relationship. That time with Carrie had been the most tumultuous of his life, the most self-destructive, but it had set him on this journey, so Haven reflected on it with grace rather than resentment.

Not wanting to fall under the talons of jealousy, he chalked Chris’ friendly behavior up to customer service rather than romantic interest. Haven also reasoned that they were only there for the day and would be back on the ship by five, so the opportunity for this guy to take the flirting further didn’t exist.

Under Chris’s direction, they headed into the water. Once they were comfortable breathing with the mouthpiece, they had to practice taking it out, then clearing it and breathing again. Haven had always been comfortable in the water. He’d learned on his journey that water was his element, so it made sense that it had such a strong grounding effect on him.

The water was so clear, he could see fish as they skittered by, as well as the other divers. Heather was just feet away, shaking her head and signaling that she was going to go up. He followed, as did Chris. When he broke the surface, Heather had her mask off, struggling to catch her breath.

Haven tore his mask off and waded over to her as fast as the water and equipment would allow. “Are you okay? What happened?”

She just shook her head, tears streaming down her face.

“Deep breath in, Heather, four counts,” he encouraged. “Hold it. Count with me. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, and out through your mouth, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven eight.”

He repeated this two more times until the tears stopped and she nodded that she was ok.

“What happened?” he asked again, Chris standing next to Heather in the waist deep water, his hand on her shoulder. Haven breathed through the jealousy again, focusing on Heather and what she needed to get through whatever had caused the panic.

“I can’t do this, it’s not good, I don’t like it.”

“There’s no rush. We can go back under and try again, take as much time as you need to get settled.”

Heather shook her head with vigor. “No. I’m done.”

“Then I’ll stay with you,” Haven insisted, stepping toward her.

Heather held up her hand in protest. “No. You paid for this, you love the water, go. I’ll be fine.”

Fine was Haven’s most despised word. No one who said they were fine were ever actually fine. When he did coaching sessions with clients, he explained that fine stood for fucked-up, insecure, neurotic, and emotional.

“I’m not leaving you alone,” Haven insisted, cupping her face and forcing her to look at him. “Diving is nothing. You are important.”

“I won’t be alone. Brandon and Tamarra, and Clark and Tony, and Marie are all on the beach. Please, Haven, go. I know how much you wanted to do this. Go and take pictures and tell me all about it.”

He pressed his lips to hers to try and stop the tears that were once again spilling down her cheeks. With anyone else, he always knew just what to say or do to help them find their ground, but somehow he seemed to be falling short with Heather.

She sighed as she pulled back from the kiss, far too soon, but probably a smart move given the effect she had on him. “It’ll make me happy if you go. I want to know how great it is and you are the only one with an underwater camera.”

Haven was reluctant, but it was clear she didn’t want him near. While he wanted to understand, because he didn’t like anyone in his space when he was dealing with erratic emotions, he wished he could be the rock she needed to work through it.

“I’m going to return the gear and catch some sun. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Chris flagged another of the guys over to help Heather with the equipment. They got the air tank off her before she got out of the water and carried it off. Haven watched her disappear up the steps, probably retrieving her things from the registration shack.

“You looked like you had everything under control,” Chris said as they headed deeper into the water.

Haven had nothing under control. He didn’t consider himself to be an A-type personality, but he didn’t like being in a situation he couldn’t contribute to in a positive way. He’d done nothing to help Heather, and she’d retreated as fast as she could.

He supposed that was karma coming back to balance things out after he’d run off on her last night.

“You ready to head out to the reef?” Chris prompted.

Haven gave one last glance over his shoulder, but when he didn’t spot Heather, he decided it was best to just follow through with the plan, finish the dive, and hope that she was grounded by the time he was back. He didn’t want to throw her off balance further.

Chapter 6

Heather didn’t tend to drink when she was under duress, but when Brandon offered her a Caribbean beer, she thought it was just the thing to bring her back from the storm. She wasn’t claustrophobic, was a strong swimmer, and had been excited about the dive, but there was something about being under water and not being in control of anything that terrified her and stirred up the panic attack. She had tried to breathe through it while under water, but somehow counting the four-seven-eight breaths only made the panic worse.

Now she was four beers in and not feeling any stress, but dancing with a little bit of guilt about getting drunk during a mindfulness retreat. What would Haven think?

If she could head back sooner, before he came out of the water, she would just to avoid the disappointed look on his face. Heather was sure he expected more from her, to be able to work through panic using the mindfulness techniques he had taught in class. That was the whole purpose of this trip, to embrace and celebrate what they’d learned over the last three months. Heather had failed in the water.

After returning the equipment, she had taken a seat on the beach with the others who had opted out of the scuba diving adventure. Brandon and Tamarra had already bought a bucket of beer and had offered one to Heather. Now they were on their second bucket.

Heather relaxed in the chair, petting the stray pup who had joined her and not left her side since coming back to the beach.

Haven was the first of the divers to emerge from the water. He removed the mask immediately, then took off the vest and tank as he came closer to shore. The diving instructors who stayed on shore helped with the equipment and whisked it away, leaving Haven standing alone, ankle deep in the water, scanning the beach. Heather’s heart kicked up a few beats with hope that he was seeking her out. He looked like a god, his fair skin still untouched by the sun, his blond hair shining under the bright day, his body not chiseled, but toned in a way that invited appreciative glances and made Heather tingle from head to toe. His shorts sat low on his hips, his natural Adonis belt diving down below the shorts to his impressive goodies. Remembering their encounter that morning, Heather groaned a little, the memory of his large erection pressed against her butt causing her to clench her own goodies.

When his gaze found her, he smiled and stepped out from the water, walking with all his grace across the sand. He appeared to move in slow motion and Heather held her breath, continuing to pet the dog beside her. When Haven reached them, he crouched by her legs, his gaze moving to the dog. “Who is this little guy?”

“A stray, according to our server. She said there are lots of strays on the island, most of them friendly. I’ve been calling him Vishnu.”

“Vishnu?” Haven asked, his smile showing approval of the name.

“He found me as soon as I hit the beach and hasn’t left my side. After my little episode in the water, I think he’s trying to protect me.”

“Vishnu is a great name, and a great protector.” Haven’s hand slid from the dog to Heather’s leg. She allowed the shiver to travel through her and once again squeezed her thighs together to try and keep her desire grounded. “How are you? Enjoying the beach?”

Heather nodded and curled her lips in to keep her tongue from darting out and wetting them. “Tell me about the reef,” she encouraged, hoping to gain some balance before her desire for this beautiful and thoughtful man threw her off center more than she already was.

“It was beautiful. I snapped lots of pictures with the GoPro. I can’t wait to show them to you. How much time before we have to head back?”

Heather glanced at her watch, surprised how quickly the day had passed. “An hour and a half. You’ve got time to grab lunch. You must be starving.”

“I am. Have you eaten?”

Shaking her head, Heather just now realized she hadn’t eaten anything. She’d been too worried about how Haven was going to look at her when he returned from dive. Heather should have known he would handle it with grace, just as he did with everything.

Haven gave her leg a squeeze before moving his hand back to Vishnu. “You protect our lady, Vishnu. I’ll grab us some lunch.”

He disappeared, heading to the hut behind them to get some food. “Are you two…um, you know?” Marie asked, waggling her brow.

Heather shook her head, embarrassed the other mystics had witnessed the exchange with Haven. It was innocent enough, but now knowing they’d had an audience, Heather felt like they had invaded an intimate moment. “Just friends,” Heather insisted, though after their kiss last night and their morning make-out session in bed, she was sure they’d crossed the line to something else. She just didn’t know how to define what that something else was.

When Haven returned some time later, he dragged a lounge chair over, leaving enough space not to crowd Vishnu. “Darlene told me there is a program through the Humane Society for visitors to adopt stray dogs,” he said, settling in and petting Vishnu. The dog seemed to sigh, which Heather could appreciate since Haven’s touch had the same effect on her.

“That has to be expensive,” Heather said, trying to squash the hope bubbling up. She’d been wanting a dog for a while, but she was on such a limited budget because of this trip and her low-paying job, adopting a dog hadn’t been feasible.

“I’m going to look into it,” he said. “Seems such a shame for such a nice protector like Vishnu not to have a home.”

Heather agreed and would love to make this little guy hers, or to even see him at Haven’s studio. He was thin, but not sickly, and his tan coat was surprisingly soft. She loved how his tail curled and how he just seemed so happy despite his circumstances.

Darlene, their server, delivered lunch, which comprised of seasoned chicken wraps, fries, and two large cups of lemonade. “Thank you for this,” Heather said, feeling a little awkward that Haven had bought her lunch.

“My pleasure. Bon appetit.”

When she finished eating, she left Vishnu in Haven’s very therapeutic hands and went for a swim. The water was so incredibly clear, turning a brilliant color of turquoise as it got deeper. Since turquoise was Heather’s favorite color, she’d been enjoying her time on the beach, just taking in the vibrant color and sound of the waves coming to rest on the shore before receding back into the quiet bay.

If she’d stayed in software engineering, she could have saved money and moved to an island like St. Thomas, taken a second career as a tour guide to make a living. Or maybe even continued to work as a software engineer as a virtual employee. She couldn’t do that in defense, but there were plenty of companies now that didn’t require you to be on site to do your work.

Of course, if she’d stayed in software, she’d have had the life sucked right out of her and no island getaway, no matter how long, could have saved her.

The water was cool as it ebbed and flowed. She swam out, not too far, and treaded leisurely, taking in the sights and sounds, watching the fish swim by her feet. Heather avoided looking at Haven because she wanted him to be watching her, and didn’t want to face disappointment if he wasn’t. Knowing the man, he was engaged in a thoughtful conversation with Marie and anyone else who had joined them after the scuba adventure.

When her arms tired, Heather headed back, making eye contact with Haven as she came out of the water. It felt like a scene from a movie and she couldn’t help the thrill rushing through her as he smiled and kept his gaze fixed on her. He still rubbed Vishnu’s head and neck and the dog looked so content lying there in the sand next to Haven’s chair.

Grabbing her watch, she realized they needed to get packed up. The van that would take them to the ship was probably already waiting in the parking lot.

“I hate to drag you all from the beach,” Heather said to her travel partners, “but we have to get back to the ship.”

There were some playful groans, a few people saying they’d like to stay on the beach forever, before Haven’s mindful words cut in. “Friends, remember we are on a journey that must continue, but you can come back here in your mind during your meditations. Let’s take a moment to do a mindful body scan, remembering the sun kissing our skin, the warm, soft sand soothing our toes, the cool, clear water, caressing our souls.”

Heather kept her eyes closed, envisioning each element on her body with Haven’s words and knowing that she would visit this place in her mind any time she needed to ground herself in the moment.

After a few minutes of peaceful meditation, Haven brought them back, everyone calm and smiling as they gathered their things and headed to the parking lot.

Taking a few moments to say good-bye to Vishnu, Heather wished she could bring him back to the ship. “You keep protecting those who need it, Vishnu. Be a good boy. I love you.”

Haven also bid the dog a fond farewell, whispering something against his head that Heather couldn’t hear.

She kissed Vishnu’s head and stepped off, but the dog didn’t stay on the beach. He followed Heather and Haven to the parking lot and jumped in the van.

“No dogs!” The driver yelled, trying to wrangle Vishnu in the back seat.

Vishnu whined, soaking up the attention that Heather and Haven showered upon him. It broke Heather’s heart to say good-bye and leave him behind, but adopting a dog wasn’t part of this journey.

Thankfully, Chris came out from the equipment shack and wrapped his arms around the dog. “I’ll take good care of him, don’t you worry,” he said, giving Heather a wink while crouching with the dog.

Heather watched them as the van left the parking lot, and did the four-seven-eight breathing exercise as they rounded the corner and the dog disappeared from sight. Heather sent up a prayer that he’d find a good home sooner rather than later.

Chapter 7

In his mindful practice, Haven had learned to calm anxious thoughts rather than drown in them, but none of his techniques worked once they got back on the ship. With Darlene’s help, he’d already put the pieces in motion to try and rescue Vishnu. It was crazy and impulsive, but it felt good and right in a positive way, so Haven chose to embrace the impulse rather than fight it. He was eager to spend the evening with Heather, and now that dinner with his other mystics was wrapping up, he could focus on her rather than fight the distracting thoughts.

He had planned to meet Heather in the same lounge where he had so recklessly kissed her their first night on the ship. She was already waiting, two glasses of wine sitting on the table in front of her. Haven was grateful they could take the wine with them anywhere on the ship, because he wanted to find a quiet place under the stars where they could breathe in the sea air and talk without competing with music and passers-by.

Heather smiled when she spotted him, the sweet curve of her lips sending a jolt of awareness straight to his groin. Haven had always loved her smile, so kind and genuine, but now it held a shyness that intrigued him. The woman was bold, confident, but he’d had the pleasure of seeing her vulnerability earlier in the day. He hadn’t wanted to take advantage of that and hoped that whatever had sent her into a panic under the water was well behind her now.

Leaning down, he kissed her cheek, desperate for more but not under the passing glances of the people wandering through the lounge. Later, they’d be alone in their room, the two of them snuggled together in the king-size bed. He wasn’t so presumptuous that he thought they might make love tonight or anytime during this cruise, but he hoped they would become close enough that their evolving relationship would lead to that soon. While Haven had made the conscious decision to stay celibate for the last six years, his heart told him that it was time to bring love into his journey. Having sex without his heart being in it would only provide physical pleasure, not the emotional connection he had promised himself to wait for. He’d indulged in his share of physical gratification in his younger years, but ever since turning to the path of enlightenment, he hadn’t needed to indulge those physical impulses, at least not with random women. Yes, he succumbed to his need for release on occasion, but only by his own hand and not the meaningless encounters he had known all too well.

He still reflected on that time on occasion. It wasn’t a dominant part of his mindful practice to dwell on the past, but sometimes a mindful reflection of the path behind him was required to stay the course, to remind him how close he’d been to toppling over the edge of self-destruction. With his parents’ help, Haven had pulled himself from the proverbial cliff, realizing before it was too late that he couldn’t continue to use people and abuse his relationships. It was at that point that he had cut ties with everyone and moved to Lilac Ridge to start new. He’d grown up a bit of a gypsy, his parents moving whenever they got antsy, but they’d settled in Lilac Ridge at the same time Haven had hit rock bottom. It had been the right move for him as it had given him time to recover from his break-up with Carrie and time to figure out what he was going to do with his life.

It wasn’t until he met Heather four months ago that he started opening his heart to the prospect of love again. So far it looked promising, as long as he could keep his self-destructive tendencies — jealousy, possessiveness, ego, all of it — under control.

“I missed you,” he told Heather when he sidled up next to her on the bench.

“You are very sweet. I missed you too. I hope you don’t mind that I ordered us wine.”

Her nervousness melted his heart. Haven wrapped one arm around her, picking up the glass of wine with his other hand. Heather picked hers up too and he tapped her glass. “Here’s to the journey,” he said. “May we always be mindful in our purpose and open in our practice.”

They each took a short sip. Haven returned his glass to the table, but Heather continued to grip hers as if it was a lifeline. “Do I make you nervous?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she finally put the glass down. “A little, yes,” she said.

“Good nervous or bad nervous?” he prodded.

Heather released a nervous laugh. “Is there a good nervous?”

“Of course. I prefer to call it anticipation. Tell me, Heather, what are you anticipating tonight?”

Her eyes widened, surprised by the question. “I don’t know,” she breathed.

Haven didn’t buy that. She was confident and bold, always speaking her mind. “You do know. Tell me. Communication is important if we are going to continue on this path together. Do you trust me?”

This time she nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Then tell me, what are you anticipating?”

She blushed, a charming trait Haven like more each time her cheeks changed color. “I’m hoping to pick up where we left off this morning,” she admitted.

Haven wanted that too, but it was important to take things slow. He’d learned things came together better when you took the winding path rather than the speedway.

“I want that too, but how about we talk for a while, get to know each other?”

“I’d like that,” she said, reaching for her glass again. “We should talk about your meditation app, too. I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Our destiny,” he muttered, remembering when Heather told him that she was a software engineer. “I have to be honest, I haven’t thought about it much. Between getting ready for this retreat and being so busy since we landed, it hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind.”

“Well, I’m sure you had a vision for it before this trip. Tell me about that.”

Haven didn’t want to talk about this out in the open lounge, competing with all the noise and distractions. “Let’s move this to our balcony,” he said. The space outside their room was small, but it would give them privacy and open air.

“Don’t want to risk anyone stealing your ideas?” she chuckled.

It had happened before, a long time ago, before he’d started the journey into mindfulness. It wasn’t anything like this, more of a get rich quick scam, but Carrie had taken the idea and run with it, betraying Haven and claiming the idea as her own.

Heather was nothing like Carrie, so Haven wasn’t worried about sharing his dream with her. He really wasn’t even worried about people overhearing it. It’s not like he was the pioneer when it came to meditation apps. There were lots out there and all of them had great features, but none of them delivered all the things he thought an app should include.

“I’m still surprised that you write software. I know I’m stereotyping here, but you don’t look like a computer nerd,” he said as they approached the elevator.

“I think that’s a compliment,” she laughed.

Haven pulled her to him and held her firmly in his hands. “It is. You’re beautiful, Heather. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

The blush returned and Haven realized going to their cabin, even if on the balcony, may not be a good idea. It would be a test of his willpower, to stay the course, not stray from his mindful path.

“You’re very sweet,” she said, licking her lips as her gaze dropped to his mouth. The temptation to toss aside his discipline and push her against the wall between the elevators took a firm hold on him. Instead of acting on the impulse, he brushed a stray hair from her face, using the softness of her skin under his fingers to ground himself.

“Elevator,” he said, when the door behind her dinged. Luckily a crowd of people joined them inside the small space, so Haven had no other choice but to keep a safe distance between his body and Heather’s.

Exiting at the fifth floor, Haven took her hand and led her down the narrow hallway to their room. He pulled up short when he opened the door.

“What’s wrong?” Heather asked.

“Heather, Haven, so good to see you my friends,” Alessandro boomed from behind them.

Haven turned to find Heather already face to face with the handsome steward. “Hello, Alessandro,” Heather said in a voice that held a little too much flirtation for Haven’s comfort.

“My apologies for the beds. I was called away on an emergency last night and one of my partners assured me they would be separated. I was shocked when I came by this morning to tidy up.”

Haven had been grateful for the joined beds, but now, he was ready to strangle the steward.

“Is something wrong? You no want the beds separated?” Alessandro asked.

Heather shot a quick glance at Haven before turning back to the steward. “Uh, no, it’s fine, really. Thanks, thank you so much for taking care of it.”

Pushing down his disappointment with a couple deep breaths, Haven reasoned in his mind that separate beds was safer. He’d enjoyed waking up with Heather in his arms, but he was only a man, not a saint, so how many nights could he handle that before giving in to his desires. He was determined to take the slow path with her, to be mindful of his feelings and respectful of hers. They couldn’t just fall into bed with each other and expect their relationship to grow into something true.

“Enjoy your evening,” Alessandro said before stepping away from the door. Heather turned, the smile dropping from her face when she locked eyes with Haven.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, this time the question filled with so much more concern.

“Nothing. I just thought we had enjoyed the sleeping arrangements last night.”

Chapter 8

Once again, Heather had turned into a bumbling idiot and put a kink in her plans. “I’m, I, ugh, I’m not like this around anyone but you.”

“Like what?” Haven asked through a smile.

“Indecisive, hesitant.”

“No? How are you usually?” He seemed amused, a complete contrast to her frustration, but it made her chuckle.

“I’m the type of person who goes after what I want,” she admitted.

His beautiful smile stretched, lifting his cheeks and narrowing his eyes. “What do you want, Heather?” There was no amusement in his voice now. It was almost raw, a gravelly sound that sent a rush straight to her core.

Now was not the time to hesitate. She’d been doing that with Haven all along and it just wasn’t working. She’d wasted months hoping he would make a move, but now she knew he was interested and she couldn’t continue to pretend to be someone she wasn’t. “I want you.”

She closed the distance between them as she spoke the words, her palms landing on his firm chest, her eyes focused on his.

“I want you, too,” he said, however, she could tell he had more to say.

“But?” she prodded.

“I wanted to take things slow.”

“Wanted?”

His hand brushed her cheek, the caress so tender it melted her heart. “You tempt me, make me feel things I haven’t felt in years.”

“What things?” she asked, sticking with the boldness she’d always known.

His other hand now covered hers, the one that rested over his heart. “I dare not say love, not yet, but it’s stirring. Other things are stirring too. I wasn’t always a good man. I’ve had to work at it, for a very long time, and with you, I can see I don’t have control of the negative vibes.”

“What negative vibes?” Haven had been caring, affectionate, and yes, he’d run that first night after kissing her, but then he’d found her and he hadn’t backed away, not even when she had a panic attack on the island.

“Jealousy, possessiveness, you’re not mine, but on the island today, when you were flirting with Chris, and just now with Alessandro, I get this swirl of emotions in my chest that I can’t…I wanted to tell Alessandro to put the beds together, that you are mine, but I had to keep my distance because that man I used to be, he’s not someone who deserves you.”

Heather couldn’t believe that Haven had ever had to battle negative feelings. He was so grounded, so balanced in every way. His level-headedness inspired Heather, gave her hope that someday she could find that same balance and be happy in the life she’d chosen. “I don’t see it,” she said, squeezing his chest. “You are kind and mindful and sweet and sexy…so sexy,” she chuckled at the end. “Whatever kind of man you used to be, I don’t see it in you now.”

“The kind of man I used to be would take you to bed right now, make love to you all night long without considering the consequences.”

Smiling, she kissed him lightly, a simple press of her lips to his. “That sounds divine.”

“Heather,” he growled, the warning clear that his control was about to snap, and that intrigued Heather more than anything ever had. Haven always had such great control. What would he be like when he lost control, in bed, with her?

“We’re on this cruise, and your Greater Spirit seems to be pushing us together. Why fight it? If we both want this, why wait?”

Haven swallowed hard, as if he was trying to keep the words from passing his lips. Heather pressed herself against his body to further entice him to cross the line he kept himself behind.

“Haven,” she whispered, her hand sliding out from his before she slid both hands around his back and held him tight. “I am yours. There is no one else I want.”

“Heather,” he whispered back, no gravel this time, but resignation, the good kind, the kind that told her the fantasy she’d been clinging to for months was about to come true. When his hands moved to her back, firmly holding her at the curve just above her butt and he started stepping backward, Heather realized it wasn’t resignation at all, but surrender. She breathed a sigh of relief that danced with a dose of anticipation.

She wanted him to kiss her, but worried if she waited, he’d find some sort of resolve in his hesitation, so she once again pressed her lips to his. Haven’s tongue pushed passed her lips, a little moan as his tongue found hers and the vibration exploded throughout her body. He dropped onto the bed, pulling her down so she straddled his legs.

“I want this, you, but I don’t have a condom, so we can only take it so far.”

“I have condoms,” she said. After all, she’d manipulated this situation; it would have been foolish to come aboard unprepared.

“Well, okay, then I need to be honest with you,” he said, his hands moving to her butt and pulling her center against his erection.

He’d always been honest and she could tell from the abundant bulge that he wasn’t going to admit to having erectile dysfunction or being small, or anything in that arena. “I love your honesty.”

He nodded, pursing his lips before breathing in a long breath.

“You can tell me,” she encouraged.

Haven shook his head. “It’s not important. Later.”

Before she could encourage him further, he had her flipped over on the bed, on her back with him on top of her, pushing between her legs.

She would have laughed at the impressive move, but his mouth covered hers and all Heather could think about was how good he felt…everywhere. She moved her hips, trying to increase the connection and wishing their clothes would just go up in a poof of smoke.

“You have to slow down, I’m not going to last if you keep doing that,” he said against her neck.

“I can’t. I want you.” Her hands slid under his shirt, finding his smooth, taut skin. The thought of him losing control so quickly only made her burn hotter. At this point, her own pleasure didn’t matter, because she was going to enjoy being with him no matter whether she had an orgasm or not. What she wanted was to see Haven lose control, to hear him moan with pleasure at her hands, or mouth, or from him being deep inside her.

Yeah, that’s what she wanted, the full connection. “Haven, please, hurry,” she said as he kissed her neck and cupped her breasts.

Haven sat up and tugged her shirt over her head, pausing to look at her breasts tucked inside the red demi bra. She hoped he wouldn’t be disappointed by her size. She wore bras that pushed everything up and in, giving the illusion she had more than she’d been blessed with.

Sliding the straps off her shoulders, his hands moved in, fingers caressing the curve along the top of the bra. Her nipples begged for attention from behind the fabric and as if he’d heard the plea, Haven tugged the fabric down and gave both nipples a gentle pinch that sent shock waves south.

Her next silent plea was answered when he lowered his mouth, his tongue doing a little dance around the tight bud, making her arch of the bed. He moved to the other side, the wet, cool sensation of the breast he’d abandoned making her writhe for more.

Haven kissed his way down, lavishing attention around her navel piercing, the erotic contact almost making her come apart. She had a flash of him gracing her with the same attention lower, and once again, as if they had a psychic connection, his kissed his way to the top of her shorts, his hands moving to release the button and lower the button before he raised up again to tug them off. The panties matched the bra, a deliberate attempt to be sexy.

“I’d love to watch you do yoga in this ensemble. We’ll have to plan for that when we get home.”

Heather loved that idea, especially the thought that this would continue when they returned.

“For now, the panties have to go. I’m desperate to taste you.”

Her entire body awakened with a shiver of anticipation at his words. Just as desperate, she lifted her butt off the bed to help move things along. He took his time pulling the panties down and Heather let her desire push aside the insecurity of this beautiful man seeing her naked.

Bending her knees, she helped him get the panties all the way down. He tossed them aside with a lot less care than he’d used to remove them, and cupped both ankles to keep her legs bent. He kissed a toe, the left side with the ring on it, and did the same to the toe on the right. “I love the details in your accessories…pretty painted toes, the toe rings, the butterfly on your navel. Simple and beautiful.”

Heather wasn’t one for traditional jewelry. She had her ears pierced, but in recent years had only ever worn simple studs with her birthstone. Her favorite color was turquoise and while aquamarine didn’t quite color match, it was close. She did, however, enjoy eclectic jewelry on her toes, ankle, and of course, the navel piercing. Haven was the first man she’d been with since getting the piercing, and so far, she was loving the erotic pleasure of his attention there.

With kisses lavished all the way up her leg, Heather was hanging on by a thread when his mouth reached her center. She cried out, the sensation overwhelming yet welcome, making her desperate for more. The vibration of his groan against her sensitive sent her over the edge at hyperspeed, but Heather didn’t hold back. She didn’t care if the entire ship heard her cry out, it was the sweetest joy she’d ever experienced. The quick orgasm didn’t deter Haven, he slowed his pace and pressure, but continued to kiss and lick her, blowing cool air across the sensitive area to tease before working more of his amazing magic on her body.

Before Heather knew it, another release stirred at her center. “Haven,” she gasped, maybe a warning, maybe a plea for him to keep going, and it earned her another groan against her flesh, pushing her right over the edge again in record time.

For all he knew, Haven might have died and gone to that place of highest enlightenment. Making Heather orgasm twice with nothing but his tongue was something he had thought about on too many occasions when he should have been focusing on his meditations or yoga practice. The fantasy couldn’t compete with the reality and he’d stay between her long legs all night if his own release wasn’t threatening.

He kissed her hips and belly, spending a little more time around her navel before exploring down the other leg. When he reached her pretty toes, he rose from the bed, taking a moment to gaze at her beautiful form. The bra was still wrapped around her, pushing her breasts up into pretty little mounds that Haven could spend all night loving. For now, though, he needed his own release because it was coming whether he was inside her or not and he couldn’t live another moment not knowing how it felt to have that complete connection with this amazing woman.

“Condom?” he asked, standing at the end of the bed, ready to burst from every chakra.

“Suitcase, inside zippered pocket,” she said a little breathless.

Haven found the box without trouble and tore a condom from the package, tossing it on the bed so he could strip out of his clothes. Heather watched, her gaze zeroed in on his hands, the attention ratcheting up his anticipation and need. She bit down on her bottom lip when he got rid of the button-down shirt he’d worn for dinner, but it was when she licked her lips after he pushed the khakis and boxer briefs down that he came undone. He’d love for her to roll the condom on, but he’d probably lose it as soon as she touched him.

“You have a beautiful body,” she said as he rolled the condom on.

Her appreciative gaze humbled him. Haven didn’t go to the gym. He was mindful of what he put into his body, practiced yoga and tai chi daily, and ran a few miles every other day for cardio endurance. He also stayed fit by mountain biking, hiking, kayaking, swimming — anything outdoors that helped him connect with the universal energies.

Heather, though, she was the true beauty. Her feminine curves perfectly formed to bring a man to his knees no matter how committed he was to his spiritual journey.

Easing over her body, Haven took a moment to lavish her navel and breasts once more before settling on top of her, his erection resting at her center. “You’re beautiful, Heather, inside and out.”

“Speaking of inside,” she said raising her hips.

Haven couldn’t prevent the growl of sexual approval and Heather smiled her own approval at his clear desire. He reached between them, positioning himself first before giving a gentle push at her core. She was wet and hot and he had to take a few deep breaths before pushing all the way in.

Her tight center gripped him, her moan pulling him further into the web they’d spun together. Impulsive, yes, reckless, maybe, but Haven couldn’t think about that as her heat and softness pushed aside any mindful thoughts.

Desperate to feel her mouth again, he covered hers, pushing his tongue past her lips. Her tongue met his, a gentle caress, but Haven was beyond control and pushed again, diving and exploring, tasting and relishing. All the while, he pushed in and pulled out of her wet heat.

Her pace increased along with her breathing and Haven used every method he knew to ground himself so he could make this last as long as possible. He wanted to make her come again, to feel her release grip him, to find that pleasure with her. He’d never experienced anything more beautiful or enlightening than her release against his mouth, but this connection, their two bodies joined, their energies mingling and sharing and expanding, it was more than he ever imagined, with anyone.

Even early in his practice, when he still longed for Carrie, the fantasies were never as soul deep as this. Haven still didn’t want to label it as love, but his heart beat faster at the fleeting thought.

“Come with me, Heather. I want to feel you let go again.”

“God, yes, Haven,” she cried before her inner muscles clamped down on him and she let out a cry that sent him over the precipice.

Chapter 9

Haven put everything he had into keeping his focus during the rest of the cruise. His days were filled from sun up until sun down with the needs of his mystics. Morning meditations and yoga, excursions to explore the various islands, dinners, coaching.

When his duties were fulfilled, his nights became filled with the pleasure he’d denied himself for so long. Heather had been worth the wait and every moment he spent with her filled his heart with light and love.

“What was it you wanted to say to me the other night?” Heather asked, her hand in his as they walked the beach in St. Maarten.

“Say to you?” he replied.

“Yeah, before we…you know.”

Her hesitation was charming, especially considering how honest and direct she could be. That beautiful blush covered her cheeks, her smile letting him know she was thinking about their first night together.

“You know?” he teased. “You mean before I made you come three times and forget everything except my name? That you know?”

She laughed, nudging his shoulder with hers as their feet dug into the warm, wet sand. The water was as clear here as every beach they’d been to in the past six days. Haven wasn’t ready for the retreat to end and was already trying to figure out how they could get back to the Caribbean, either on another cruise or by visiting just one island. He hadn’t run any new ideas by Heather, was hoping to surprise her with a getaway for just the two of them, where his attention wasn’t divided amongst a dozen people.

“For someone so enlightened, your ego is in good shape.”

“Oh, but I’m not enlightened. Enlightenment isn’t a destination. You are either on the path or you are off it, but it isn’t something you can reach, something you can achieve.”

“Does that mean you strayed off it for a few moments there?” Her humor was light, but even the playful words set his mind in motion. “I never stray,” he said, focused on keeping his own tone light. “The path may have detours, hills, winding paths, untraveled and well-worn paths, but you can’t leave it. Mindfulness is the journey and the reward.”

“I was just joking with you,” she defended, kicking sand across his feet.

Haven released her hand and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her against his side as they strolled down the beach. “I know, but I never miss an opportunity for a lesson. Think about it, what would be left if we achieved enlightenment? There would be no need for us to grow as soulful, mindful beings. We would no longer have purpose and without purpose, what is life? It is nothing.”

“I guess I’ve never thought about it that way. It makes sense. Is that why you are always saying it is important to ground yourself in the moment?”

“We spend far too much time lost in the past and worrying about the future. If we spent more time in the moment, life would be better.”

“Is that your way of saying that you don’t want to tell me whatever it was that you didn’t want to tell me the other night?” she asked.

Laughing, he planted a kiss to her forehead. “I wanted to be honest with you the other night, but in the moment, it had more to do with my ego than a necessary truth. Now, my ego isn’t involved, so this is a better time.”

In that moment, Haven worried about his sexual performance. He hadn’t been with a woman since starting on his journey to enlightenment and given how long it had been since he’d last had sex, he was sure he would last only seconds. As it turned out, he’d been able to hold off his own climax. Now, though, after all their time together, he was no longer worried about his performance, at least not in bed. He did, however, want to be honest about his past.

“So tell me,” she insisted, giving him another nudge.

“I started this journey six years ago, first meditating and aromatherapy, then yoga, eventually the emotional wellness coaching, and now crystal healing and Reiki. Before that, I was a jerk, not a good man at all. I had no honor, no respect for myself or anyone else. I left him behind and I’m proud of where I am.”

She turned to look up at him, her fingers tight at his waist as she flashed that beautiful smile. “You should be. Your practice is amazing. You’ve helped so many people, me included.”

“Thank you. Every person I’ve helped has helped me too, including you.” He kissed her forehead again, breathing in her fresh, sweet scent, loving the softness of her skin.

“Mmmm, sweet talk will get you everywhere.”

His body was spent after hours exploring her body, and her exploring his, but her words inspired his desire to come fully out of its slumber. “Good to know, but it isn’t just sweet talk. You’re the first woman I’ve been with since I started my journey.”

She stepped in front of him and turned, both her hands now resting at his waist as she faced him. Haven couldn’t have any regrets, even if his words sent her running. This relationship needed to be built on honesty and trust, not manipulation and lies as it had with Carrie. “Six years? You haven’t been with anyone in six years?”

Her surprise was no surprise to him. Six years was a long time, but since he’d started on the journey, time didn’t matter to him. He’d found balance, and granted, Heather had thrown him off a bit, but she’d also opened his heart. He nodded at her imploring look, causing her to shake her head. “But why so long?”

Standing there, he felt raw, as if sharing his past was baring the innermost part of his soul. A lesser man would walk, say the words without facing her, but Haven had come too far on his journey to run away. “My last relationship was destructive. She was a crutch, someone I thought I needed, to the point of self-destruction. She betrayed me, stole an idea I had, albeit a bad one, and made it her own. Then she left me. It took some time for me to get over it and realize I was better off without her. Once I did, I decided to focus on me, being a good man, a good person, helping others.”

“You’re doing that,” she said, her smile proud.

“I am, and now, I’m doing it with you.” A group of kids ran by on either side of them, ready to find their own adventure in the water, but retreated back to the beach when the waves came crashing in. Haven grabbed Heathers hands and kissed them, then let one go and stopped off again to avoid the frenzy of kids doing battle with the waves. “We’re going to work on my app together, bring mindfulness and healing to so many more people, together.”

She swung their joined hands in a happy rhythm. “I like that idea. I’ve already started writing the program. It’s early and it’s going to take time, but this is the first time since I left software engineering that I feel like I know who I am. Except, this time, it’s not going to suck the life from me.”

Haven was glad to hear that. He’d come to understand her, know her, love her, in just a short amount of time. “The great Wayne Dyer said that enlightenment is the quiet acceptance of what is. That doesn’t mean we can’t change our future, it just means we have to accept our present and keep moving. It seems that you have done that.”

“You always have such great wisdom. That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

His feet stopped, the water crashing over them as he pulled Heather to him. She looked a little surprised that she’d said it, and that blush crept back up, a darker shade this time. “You love me?” he asked, just to be sure he’d heard her correctly and to be sure she knew what she’d said.

She smiled, her confidence not faltering. “You don’t have to say it back. I know it seems fast, but it’s how I feel and you were honest with me about your past.”

Haven shook his head. “I don’t have to say it, but I will because I love you too, Heather. Her smile stretched and while Haven could stand there and look at her smile forever, he had to kiss her, to seal their proclamations the only way they could on a public beach. She clung to him, her lips soft and warm and a little salty from their time on the beach. She pulled back with a sigh, her body still pressed to his. “We should head back to the ship.”

Loving that suggestion, he nodded and she stepped off, leading the way to the dock where the water taxi would bring them back to the port. It was close enough to walk, but the water taxi would get them there sooner, and then Haven could show her just how much he loved her.

“Haven! Heather! Wait!” a voice called as they approached the dock a few minutes later.

They turned to find Tamarra running from the passageway that led to Front Street, the main thoroughfare of Philipsburg. Haven and Heather had explored the shops earlier in the day, after the beach yoga session and before they’d returned to Great Bay beach to enjoy the water and sand and collect shells.

“Tam, what’s wrong?” Heather asked as Tamarra came to a stop in front of them.

“Have you seen Brandon? We had a fight and he took off and I can’t find him anywhere.”

Spinning around, Haven took in the dock and the boat, but didn’t spot Brandon anywhere.

“We haven’t seen him,” Heather said. “Where did you see him last? What direction did he go?”

“We were on Front Street. He bought one of those stupid pirate coin necklaces that he kept raving about.”

“Why is that a problem? You two talked about that,” Haven said. Brandon had been excited about the coins, which had been discovered on a sunken ship many years ago and were sold exclusively on St. Maarten.

“Yeah, but he didn’t tell me it cost seven hundred dollars. And you know he didn’t even try to negotiate the price down. He cleaned out our checking account. He’s such an idiot.”

“Take a few deep breaths,” Heather encouraged before Haven could do the same.

“I know this is a perfect opportunity to put everything you learned into practice,” Tamarra said to Haven, “but I’m just so furious right now.”

Sometimes even Haven found it difficult to be mindful in the heat of the moment, like the first night aboard ship when he’d abandoned Heather after she admitted her feelings, but part of the journey was using those tools during the most difficult times.

“Don’t focus on what made you angry. Instead, breathe through the anger and focus on this moment, on what you need to do to get to the next moment.”

“I’m going to kill him in the next moment,” Tamarra snarled.

Clearly, she wasn’t going to cool off, so Haven took a different approach. “Why don’t you two get on the water taxi. I’ll walk back in case he is along the route somewhere. We’ll meet back at the ship.”

“He has my ship card. I can’t get back on the ship without it,” Tamarra said.

“We’ll figure it out when we get back there,” Heather assured her and turned to Haven. “We’ll see you there.”

He wanted to kiss her, but given the circumstances, it seemed inappropriate. He didn’t want to feed any of Tamarra’s negative emotions and public display of affection could have a tendency to do that, especially when one was angered with one’s spouse.

“See you there,” he said and watched them get on the boat. Haven decided to take a quick stroll down the beach, just in case, and walked back on Front Street. Not finding Brandon, he sent out a quick prayer to the Greater Spirit, asking for Brandon’s safe return to the ship and for a peaceful resolution to their marital rift.

Chapter 10

By the time they located Brandon, who had gone back to the ship and was drinking in his cabin, it was time for dinner. Heather opted for the buffet instead of the dining room because Haven was scheduled to have dinner with Frank, Esther, Marie, and Joanne.

Cat and Zoe had found a spot at the bar outside the casino where Vinnie was playing the blues again, Brandon and Tam were locked away in their room, hopefully having make-up sex, and Clark and Tony were in the theatre playing bingo, a nightly event for the two of them. Heather had played the day they were at sea, and got some free jewelry out of it, but the event was a big time commitment and she didn’t want to risk missing any time with Haven, so she returned to the cabin and sat on the balcony with her laptop where she worked on coding the meditation app. She and Haven had talked about categories of meditations in addition to the daily meditations he planned to offer, so she’d taken the liberty of contacting one of her graphic design friends who owed her a solid and not only agreed to throw together some icons to visually represent each category, but had a few drafted as samples of the style. Heather couldn’t wait to surprise Haven with them and hoped he liked the idea. So far, he’d been receptive to all her ideas.

It seemed like hours when she heard the door click closed. She went inside, finding a ragged man drop onto the bed.

“You look exhausted,” she said, putting the laptop on the chair and crawling across the bed to him.

“I’m usually good at keeping the stress under control, but between Tamarra’s anger management and Frank and Esther’s political debates, I’m spent.”

“I have a surprise for you, something that should lift your spirits.”

“I love surprises. What is it?” he said, resting his chin on his hands as he propped his elbows on the bed.

Heather turned the laptop to show him the email she’d been looking at when he came in. “Remember the icons we talked about for the categories. Well, I have a graphic artist friend who agreed to do them for you for design credit only. He sent some samples.”

Only giving them a quick glance, he dropped his head back onto the bed. “Can we talk about this when we get home. I can’t wrap my head around the meditation app right now.”

Swallowing her disappointment, she did a quick inner self-talk that he was tired and even though this was a retreat, it was still somewhat of a vacation and it was their last night before going back to reality. “Of course it can wait,” she said, adding a little pep to her voice more for her own benefit than his. She closed the laptop and stretched across the bed to set it on the desk before settling next to him, one hand on his back.

“How about a massage?” Heather offered.

“I’ll never say no to that,” Haven smiled, rolling onto his back and pulling her on top of him before his incredible mouth claimed hers. His fatigue seemed to dissipate as the passion between them exploded. Heather was wearing a little dress, one she usually only wore over her swimsuit but sometimes used to lounge in. She’d opted to lose the bra, but threw on a thong when she’d gotten out of the shower a couple hours ago. That proved to be a good choice when Haven’s slid under the dress and gripped her butt, an approving groan vibrating against her tongue.

When a finger slid beneath the thin sheathe of fabric, Heather broke the kiss. “I was offering you the massage, not asking for one,” she told him.

“I’m only a man, my love, and I can’t keep my hands off you.”

Heather rolled away. It’s not that she didn’t want whatever Haven had to offer, but he always made sure her pleasure came first and tonight, their last night on the ship, after a very trying evening for him, she wanted to make sure his pleasure came first. “I picked up some massage oil at the port today,” she said. The planning started long before she knew how much he would need a massage because she wanted to show him just how much he meant to her by giving instead of taking. While Haven didn’t seem to mind her taking, Heather thought they were past due for a change of the tides. “Take off your clothes while I dig it out of the bag.”

“You know I could have mixed some up. I brought the oils,” he said, releasing the top two buttons on his shirt before tugging it over his head with one hand. God, the man was sexy and graceful, even doing something as simple as removing his shirt.

“Yes, but I wanted to surprise you. I hope you like it. It says it is sensual.”

“Well, if it has patchouli, which it should if it is sensual, then yes, I like.”

“It does have patchouli, and bergamot. When I smelled it in the store, I instantly thought of you.”

“Great blend, but it might just put me in a coma.”

“With my hands all over you? I think not.”

“Good point.” He stripped out of the shorts and she opened the bottle. He sprawled on the bed, arms over his head, legs slightly spread, erection resting on his lower stomach.

“I planned to start with your back,” she said.

Haven waggled his brow. “Promise me you’ll finish on my front.”

“Promise. I have plans for your front,” she teased.

To that he laughed. “You do struggle to stay in the moment, but sometimes your plans pay off.”

He rolled over and his back was just as fine as his front. Heather took a moment to take in his strong body from shoulders to feet, pausing to admire the curve of his butt. She wanted to nibble it, one cheek then the other, and she planned to do just that, but not yet.

“Speaking of plans, I should probably confess something,” she said, pouring a healthy dollop of oil on his back before capping the bottle and straddling his thighs.

“Last time you confessed, I ended up kissing you.”

“And look where we are now,” she chuckled.

He moaned into the pillow as she spread the oil over his back, feathering it from his spine outward without yet applying much pressure.

“Anyway, about the cabin. It wasn’t a screw up with the reservation. I was hoping to gain your interest in a romantic way, so I booked us together on purpose.”

His breathing stopped, but Heather figured that was just his response to the increased pressure as she used her fingers to work his muscles. Haven turned his head. “You manipulated me?” he asked, the sternness in his voice giving her pause.

“It sounds harsh when you put it that way. I prefer to think I manipulated the situation and it worked in our favor.”

He rolled onto his side, throwing her off balance. Heather lifted onto her knees and Haven finished the turn, sitting up once he was on his back and putting the pillow over his naked form. “You manipulated me,” he said again, this time not a question.

“Haven,” she said, a plea for his understanding, but he raised a hand to stop her words.

“You manipulated me. You took advantage of your position, the role I gave you in orchestrating this retreat, and you orchestrated something to your own selfish benefit.”

“Haven,” she pleaded again. “Why are you so mad? You said yourself before we left that it was an opportunity, that you were intrigued.”

Shaking his head, his anger was palpable, rolling off him like steam rises off boiling water. “I thought the Greater Spirit was bringing us together. I thought it was fortuitous. Now you’re telling me you manipulated this, you lied to me.”

“I—” she started, but he put up his hand again.

“I’m not okay with this, Heather. I don’t do well with being manipulated. I walked away from a woman who did that to me, who hurt and betrayed me for her own personal gain.”

Now Heather shook her head as she knelt at the end of the bed. “That’s not what I did.”

He turned so his legs were off the bed, grabbed his shorts and tugged them on as he stood.

“Haven,” she demanded, standing too. “I liked you, I just wanted to see if we had a chance before I made a fool of myself.”

“So you made a fool of me instead,” he growled.

“How? You said you love me.” It was only hours ago when those sweet words crossed his lips and kissed her ears. She hadn’t meant to say it to him, but once the words were out, she couldn’t take them back, so she owned it because moving forward, she wanted him to know her. She’d always been confident, sure, and decisive. She’d lost that somewhere, or maybe let it go, but she couldn’t abandon that part of herself again.

“Like I said, a fool.” He grabbed his shirt off the floor and the messenger bag leaning against the closet that she had learned was filled with his journal, favorite crystals, and a couple oracle card decks, and walked out with both items gripped in his fists.

“Haven!” she yelled, moving to the door and flinging it back open before it clicked shut. “Don’t run again.”

“I can’t do manipulation,” he said over his shoulder. This wasn’t the Haven she loved. He faced everything, no matter what it was. How could he just walk away?

“I love you,” she professed. “That’s not a manipulation. That’s my heart. If you love me like you said, you won’t walk away.”

He lifted his gaze to her eyes. “It doesn’t matter how I feel about you. I’ve come too far to fall back down the rabbit path. I’ve been slipping ever since that night when I kissed you. That was a line I shouldn’t have crossed.” He dropped his head and shook it, breathing in a long breath and releasing it in a whoosh. “I should have known this is where we’d end up when you offered to help with the app. I can’t mix business and pleasure. I got burned once and I won’t walk through that fire again.”

“What? You think I’m stealing your idea? I would never—”

“I’ll find somewhere else to sleep tonight,” he said, cutting off her defense.

Stunned, Heather could do nothing but stand there and watch him walk away. She had too much pride to chase after him. It was such a small thing she’d done, and yet for all his mindful practices, he’d taken it and blown it a thousand times out of proportion.

Walking away, he had proved that he wasn’t the fool, she was for thinking she might have actually found a man who wasn’t intimidated by her brains and boldness.

“Stupid,” she said, smacking her palm to her forehead as she walked back into the room. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” but before the last syllables finished, the tears started pouring. Heather let the door slam behind her, shutting out any hope she had of a future with Haven.

Chapter 11

Haven had meditated, journaled, meditated some more, done a single card reading and a three-card spread with his energy oracle cards, and a three-card spread with his soul coaching oracle deck. The only thing that had become clear was the Greater Spirit thought he should be with Heather.

Haven’s heart thought the same thing as it ached despite the meditations and journaling.

He was such a fool to think he’d journeyed along the path far enough to be able to handle a romantic relationship with grace and mindfulness. His impulses still fought to come to the surface and that’s how he’d ended up in the ship’s jewelry store last night, buying a Larimar crystal set in a sterling silver ring setting. He’d first seen the stone at a port shop in St. Thomas and immediately thought of Heather. Knowing turquoise was her favorite color, he’d researched the crystal and discovered the cardinal water stone that was born of volcanic fire was a powerful healing stone. Among its powers, Haven discovered it aided in releasing emotional bonds and clear communication, providing the strength and courage to speak openly from the heart.

That was why he had bought himself a pendant of the crystal as well. Heather didn’t need help with releasing emotional bonds or the courage to speak from her heart. She had mastered that and Haven needed to take a lesson from her instead of letting old betrayals tether him to the past.

He had returned to the cabin before midnight to confess what a fool he’d been and beg her forgiveness, not because of her, but in spite of himself, only to find she was gone, along with all her belongings. It had been too late to knock on the doors of the other mystics, but his reasoning told him those cabins weren’t big enough to accommodate a third person, so she must be about the ship somewhere. He had searched for hours, coming up short before returning to the cabin in hopes she would too.

Waking up alone early this morning filled him with disappointment, but grateful neither a morning yoga nor a morning meditation session was scheduled with his mystics. Heather had left this final morning open so everyone had time to pack and disembark before getting on the shuttle to the hotel for a final day in San Juan. By nightfall tomorrow, they’d be back in Lilac Ridge. The following day, the class would meet for its final session. They would meet monthly, but Haven had decided to schedule an advanced class as well. He hoped Heather would enroll, and also enroll in the crystal healing class she had shown an interest in, but Haven didn’t want her in the studio only for her own journey. He wanted her to be a part of his journey too.

With everything packed, he rolled his suitcase into the hall. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see Heather there, clipboard in hand, going through her checklist with each of the mystics to ensure nothing was missed or left behind.

He expected her to ignore him as she moved from Cat and Zoe’s room to the right of the room they had shared for the past seven nights, over to Brandon and Tamarra’s room, but she stopped and offered a weary smile. “Everyone is ready to disembark. Do you need me to go over the checklist with you or are you sure you’re all set?”

Shaking his head, he rested a hand at her waist. She wore a layered turquoise tunic and matching skirt, with strappy sandals that showed off her eclectic jewelry. Beautiful as ever, he wanted to pull her back into the room and beg her forgiveness, but doubted she’d allow him to do that, so he spoke his mind right there in the narrow hall.

“I love you,” he declared, figuring the truth of his heart was the best place to start. “I’m not perfect. Being here with you, on this unexpected tropical tryst, it has thrown me off balance so much so that I forgot who I am, the path that I follow, the energies I live by. I haven’t had love in my life for so long that when I discovered it with you, I fell into old patterns. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I beg it of you nonetheless.”

“I forgive you,” she said without hesitation, her tone steady and aloof.

“Please don’t say it unless you mean it, Heather, please.”

Heather shook her head. “You are the one who has trouble letting go. I don’t hold a grudge. I don’t have the energy for that. My path is always forward because living in the past gets me nowhere. I know you would tell me that it is more important to live in the moment, and I have learned to ground myself there, but that doesn’t change my forward momentum.”

His heart grew with her mindful words. Every one of his mystics was unique, on a path all their own, and it seemed Heather finally embraced hers. Haven couldn’t have been more proud.

In that moment, he knew he couldn’t continue to fight his impulses. Being impulsive didn’t make him a bad person or mean he was off the path. It was simply another way to journey, another way to learn, and another way to embrace his purpose. He pulled the ring from his pocket and held it out to Heather. “I bought this for you. It’s a Larimar crystal, found only in the Caribbean. It balances the polarities of the fire and water energies, and has so many other healing powers. But from me, to you, it’s a promise, a promise that we will find balance together, that I won’t let my past cloud our future.

“It’s beautiful, Haven, but I can’t accept it.”

“Heather,” he pleaded.

She shot a glance in both directions where the rest of the mystics watched with clear interest. Haven wasn’t one for creating drama, but he was desperate to prove to Heather that he was a man of his word, a man worthy of her love.

Pushing him into the room, she kicked the door closed. “Every time things stray from your comfort zone, you go running, but last night, with your accusations, that was a line you never should have crossed. I chose to forgive you, but that doesn’t mean I can just forget how much you hurt me. I didn’t deserve that.”

Haven nodded. “You’re right, you didn’t deserve that and I was wrong. I’ve never been more wrong in my life, but I will spend every second of my life seeking ways to be better. I will never be perfect, all I can do is work at it and more than anything, I want to do that with you by my side.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks, breaking his heart. He’d done this to her. He’d been cruel instead of mindful and he had to find the strength to forgive himself for that and move forward, just like Heather. “I love you,” he said, brushing the tears from her cheeks.

“I love you too, but maybe you were right about taking things slow. Maybe this has been too fast for both of us.”

Now Haven shook his head. “I’ve been fighting against my impulses for a long time, and I believe you have too. I think one thing we can learn from this and each other is to embrace our impulses and see what path they can take us down.”

She smiled now, igniting Haven’s hope. “Having any impulses now?” she asked, glancing down at the ring.

He held it up and dropped to his knee. “Is this impulsive enough for you?”

“Are you meditating or do you have other intentions while you’re down there?”

“Marry me, Heather. Be impulsive and stay with me on this journey we started.”

Holding out her finger, she nodded and laughed. “Oh my God, yes, Haven, yes, I’ll stay with you on the journey. Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Epilogue

The past six months had been a good balance of smooth and rocky as Heather learned all of Haven’s flaws. The man she’d once thought was perfect proved to be far from it, but that made her love him all the more.

Another thing that made her love him all the more was his kind and thoughtful heart. Six weeks ago he surprised her with an adoption certificate he’d crafted himself, showing them as the proud parents of one furry, four-legged baby named Vishnu. She had no idea he’d been so resourceful about starting the adoption while they visited St. Thomas. While she hadn’t put the pup out of her mind completely, she tried only to focus on positive thoughts of her little protective friend, hoping he had found a good life after they left him in Chris’ arms by the beach. Now they were returning to the island to officially claim him as theirs and bring him home.

But that wasn’t their only adventure on this journey. When Heather suggested they get married there, Haven dropped to his knees he was so happy. It was another impulse they both embraced.

“Do you think he’ll remember us?” Heather asked as the van wove around the narrow streets to the secluded beach on St. Thomas.

“He’ll remember you for sure,” Haven replied.

“Sweet talker,” she laughed.

Haven squeezed her hand. “I prefer to be called truth sayer, if you please. I’m sure all the video calls helped too.” Chris thought they were crazy when Heather suggested they do video calls, but Vishnu seemed to enjoy them, barking and licking the screen whenever Heather talked to him.

When the van pulled into the parking lot, Heather spotted Chris standing near the diving hut, Vishnu sitting next to him, connected to a turquoise leash. Heather jumped out as soon as the driver opened the door and ran to the dark who barked and wagged. Chris released the leash and Vishnu met her halfway, not jumping on her, but standing on his back legs and dancing around as she kissed and petted him.

They’d been sending money for food and veterinary care while Chris provided a foster home for the dog, whose fur was so much softer than the last time they’d seen him. His weight had increased as well, and he seemed so happy. “How’s my baby boy? Did you miss me? Are you ready to go home?”

“I think you have some other business before you go, don’t you?” Chris asked, eying Heather’s dress. She had chosen a strapless, short satin dress, cut above the knees, but with a fluffy train that stopped at her ankles. Haven wore light khakis and a light blue shirt that brightened his beautiful sky blue eyes. They had opted for a private ceremony on the beach, another tryst since they hadn’t told anyone back home they were getting married. The purpose of the trip was to bring Vishnu home and their time here was limited, so they wanted to enjoy it without any pressures or drama. Heather knew she couldn’t invite her parents without inviting her sister and wherever Sam went, drama followed.

“Forget about me already?” Haven asked. “Good thing we’ve been working on those jealousy meditations together.”

Jealousy was one of his less endearing traits, but he was mindful of that impulse and through open communication and honesty, they had learned ways for both of them to work through it when the emotions arose.

“I could never forget about you, but this little guy rivals you on charm.”

“I can live with that as long as you are my wife before we leave this island,” he said, scooping her into his arms.

Vishnu barked his approval and did another happy dance while Haven nuzzled her neck.

“The minister is waiting on the beach,” Chris said, signaling to the path that would lead them to the place where they’d first met Vishnu after Heather’s panic attack.

Hand in hand, they walked through the sand to the water where they found the minister. They had met him yesterday before going to the courthouse to pick up the marriage license, and talked through how they wanted the ceremony. They’d written their own vows, brief and mindful, and the ceremony was to be spiritual rather than religious. Chris and Darlene, their server from the day on the beach, stood as witnesses.

“Are we ready to get started?” John, the minister asked.

“Yes, please,” Heather and Haven said in perfect synchronization. Vishnu gave a little whine too, as if giving his approval.

With their toes in the water and the sun shining down on them, their hands joined, the minister began. “Namaste. We come together today within the energies of the tranquil sea and sky for the purpose of balance, to commit two joined hearts to the higher purpose of harmonizing the body and soul. Haven True, do you take Heather Ann to be your wife on this journey, to love and honor, to listen to with mindful affection, to respect without judgment, forgive without condition, and guide back to center when her soul falls off balance?”

Haven smiled and squeezed her hand, his eyes the color of the sky. “I do.”

“Heather Ann, do you take Haven True to be your husband on this journey, to love and honor, to listen to with mindful affection, to respect without judgment, forgive without condition, and guide back to center when his soul falls off balance?”

“I do,” she responded as Haven squeezed her hands again.

“You have rings?”

Heather had been wearing Haven’s ring on her thumb, so she pulled it off as Haven reached into his pocket.

They had found silver bands embodied with Larimar and white topaz, which was a crystal for aiding with spiritual development. They agreed the combination was perfect as they continued on this journey together. Heather held out her hand and Haven positioned the ring just over the tip. “Heather, with this ring, I join my heart to yours so they will beat together in harmony as our souls bind together on our journey to love and enlightenment. My promise is my vow, today and for eternity.”

He slid the ring on, leaving a tingle in its wake that shot straight to her heart and exploded throughout her body just as Haven’s touch always did.

Heather repeated the vow, sliding the ring onto Haven’s finger.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. May the Greater Spirit and God bless and guide you on this journey. You may now complete the joining of your hearts and souls by sharing your first marital kiss.”

Haven’s smile spread, brightening his eyes as he pulled her to him. “My soulmate, my wife,” he said before his mouth covered hers, once again throwing her completely off balance.

About the Author

Big dreamer and certifiable overachiever Susan Ann Wall embraces life at full speed and volume. She’s a beer and tea snob, can be bribed with dark chocolate, and the #1 thing on her bucket list is to be the center of a Bon Jovi flash mob.

Susan is a USA Today Bestselling author of racy, rule-breaking romance, women’s fiction, and erotic fiction (her erotic titles are published as Ann Victor). Her bragging rights include 20 books in six different series, three perfect children, two amazing rescue dogs, and a happily ever after that started while serving in the U.S. Army and has spanned two decades (which is crazy since she’s not a day over 29).

In her next life, Susan plans to be a 5 foot 10, size 8 rock star married to a chiropractor and will not be terrified of large bridges, spiders, or quiet people (shiver).

You can find Susan online at:

www.authorsusanannwall.com

Facebook: Author Susan Ann Wall

Twitter: @susanannwall

Also by Susan Ann Wall

Puget Sound ~ Alive with Love series

The Sound of Consequence (April 2013)

The Sound of Betrayal (August 2013)

The Sound of Suspicion (January 2014)

The Sound of Deception (June 2014)

The Sound of Circumstance (December 2015)

The Sound of Reluctance (Coming Soon)

Fighting Back for Love series

Relay for Love (May 2011)

A Flame Burns Inside (January 2012)

Worth the Fight (Coming in Soon)

Superstitious Brides series

Marrying for Love (January 2015)

For the Love of Chocolate (February 2015)

3rd Trip to the Altar (August 2016)

The Perfect Pairing (September 2016)

Taking Back Good-bye (November 2016)

Mistletoe Marathon (November 2016)

Insert Wife Here (May 2017)

Off Balance (August 2017)

Devon Taggart Suspense

Broken Strings (April 2016)

Sunset Valley Women’s Fiction series

Whisper to a Scream (May 2016)

Behind Office Doors Series by Ann Victor

Whatever the Boss Wants (April 2013)

When the Boss Gets Jealous (August 2013)

Quitting the Boss (October 2014)

Making Waves

an On the Beach novella

Krista Ames

Bree Watkins was excited to spend a week in the Caribbean with her best friend. Until Stacy had to cancel sending Bree to the Caymans alone. Forced to step outside of her box, she gets herself into more than she bargained for.

Hunter DuVall had been hoodwinked into an online dating matchmaker trip by his best friend. Fun in the sun and sex on the beach with a gaggle of women he didn’t really want to know. Didn’t sound like his cup of tea.

When an accident brings Bree and Hunter together unexpectedly, will it be an unlikely match made in the Caymans or wishful thinking?

To the one that has my heart, I’ll love you always.

Chapter 1

“What do you mean you can’t make it? Stacy, I’m already half way to the Caribbean.”

Shit. When Bree had landed, and found a comfortable place to sit for the duration, she powered on her cell to see if she’d missed anything. She didn’t really expect to get a horrifying phone call from her best friend saying she wouldn’t be able to make the flight.

I can’t cancel this trip now, my return flight isn’t for another six days and the tickets are non-refundable.

“I’m really sorry Bree, it can’t be helped. The girl that was covering my vacation was in a car accident and there’s no one else.”

Her best friend Stacy was a hospice nurse and she was right, it’s not the kind of field where you can just call in anyone to replace her. It takes a special kind of person, medically and personally to do that job.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’ll still go anyway. Later I can pay you back for your share of the hotel room at least.”

“No that is not necessary Bree, you already paid your half, that was our deal. Besides, you need this vacation so go and enjoy yourself.

“Why do I feel like you set me up?”

“I would do no such thing, well maybe but I didn’t this time. We’re really understaffed right now but trust me, if there were any way I could get out of work, I’d be on my way.”

“Thanks Stacy, love you but I gotta go, they’re calling my flight already. I’ll call you when I get there.”

Bree disconnected their call and grabbed her carry-on off the floor. As she walked closer to the numbered gate, she heard another announcement about there being an extended delay. Sounds like she would be sitting in the Atlanta airport for another three hours but everyone would get a voucher to cover their lunch meal.

“I really don’t want to sit here for that long but I am hungry so at least free food helps.”

As she perused the multiple restaurant options, she had a terrible thought about her luggage. Nothing would be worse than arriving in the Cayman Islands without her clothes. She would have to buy everything. It was an all-inclusive trip thank goodness, and she had set aside plenty of money for incidentals but she didn’t want to have to use it for this kind of incidental. She hated to shop in the first place and buying a whole new wardrobe would be a nightmare. Took her long enough just to pick out a bathing suit. Next time she saw the check in girl, she might inquire about the luggage.

After Bree ordered and paid for her chicken breast sub, she found a small table in the corner of the food court, overlooking the tarmac. It was her dumb luck that her cell would ring right when she took a bit of the sandwich. Seeing that it was Stacy, she chewed quickly before she hung up.

“Miss me already?”

“You know I do, I was really looking forward to seeing you. It’s been a long time since our last visit.”

“I know, I’m really bummed you aren’t able to get away.”

Even though both women live on opposite sides of the country from each other, they’ve been friends since they were little. A very long time ago, their moms had been best friends and lived next door to each other. Both sets of parents still lived in the same houses, the girls just grew up and moved away, following their careers. They didn’t get to see each other as much as they wanted. The medical field wasn’t very forgiving for personal free time.

“I promise we’ll set up another vacation for us and I won’t back out.”

“You can’t promise you won’t back out, but I understand, your job is just too unpredictable. It could have been me too, I just have enough staff in the Emergency Room right now so I’m covered. Plus, I threatened my boss that I’d quit if he didn’t let me take a vacation. I get four weeks a year and never get to use them. I’m glad they roll over but I’d have to take the entire summer off to use them all.”

“Nice Bree. So, what happened, I jumped online to track your flight and it says delayed.”

“Yeah, we’re stuck here for a few hours, looks like we’ll be getting in late though. Not sure what happened, but they gave us free food so I just sat down to eat dinner.”

“At least they’re feeding you, that’s a plus.”

“Yeah, you know me, I don’t turn down food, ever.”

“You know, maybe since you’ll be alone now in the Caymans, you’ll meet a hot pool boy to occupy your time.”

“Very funny, you know I don’t have time for men or relationships.”

“Yes, I know. You have a very strict regimen, work and sleep, and repeat daily. No time for play of any kind. Heaven forbid you step out of your comfort zone once a year.”

“Hey, I don’t’ see you dating anybody either. I just don’t have time for stupidity and guys, ugh just don’t get me started. They’re dumb, smelly and they have bad habits. I see enough stupid shit in the ER to last me a lifetime. Fighting couples, guys that had way too much to drink and do dumb things they know they shouldn’t do and I have to fix them. I don’t want that in my personal life too.”

“You know what my wish for you is my dear Bree Watkins?”

“No but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.” Her friend laughed, probably because that was one of Bree’s classic lines.

“I will seriously laugh my ass off if you actually meet someone on that island because eventually it’s going to happen to you when you least expect it and you won’t know what hit you. And all those values and rules you think you have now will fly right out the window while you aren’t looking.”

“You bite your tongue and take that back right now. And you’re wrong because I won’t let it happen.”

“Don’t you think it’s about time you settled down, found a wife?”

Hunters eyebrows squinted together causing his forehead to wrinkle.

A wife? As in marriage?

“Seriously? It’s not like women are falling at my feet professing their undying devotion.”

He doubled over to the bottom drawer in the fridge, grabbing a beer for himself and his seriously delusional buddy Luke.

“Oh, but they are, you just aren’t being at all receptive.”

“Are you kidding me? You mean when we go out? No one has been worth the time so why should I be receptive? I don’t want a bar fly that will hump anything that crosses her path then move on to the next guy down the bar an hour later. I’ve had plenty of one-night stands and I’m not looking for any more of that. Anyway, why the sudden concern over my love life? Why don’t you find a wife, for yourself that is?”

“Because I’m younger than you, I have time but you?” He shook his head. “Your biological clock is ticking.”

“You’re full of shit, I don’t have a biological clock. As far as I can remember, I’m not a woman so get your facts straight. Men don’t worry about that bullshit.”

“No wait, listen, I’m completely serious.”

“Yeah I bet you are.”

“Just listen, I read it in a magazine when I was sitting in the lobby at the dentist office last week waiting to have my tooth pulled. It was Vogue or Men’s Health or some shit like that, I don’t remember the magazine name but it’s not important.”

“Whatever, there are no girls out there anymore looking for a sincere relationship, and especially marriage.”

“Well I have the perfect thing for you. I overheard a couple guys talking in the john and…”

“Stop right there. I don’t wanna hear this. Can’t you get your information from somewhere reputable, just once?”

“Hey, I don’t go around believing just any joe blow off the street.”

“Did you know the guys in the bathroom then?”

“No but…”

“No buts, I’m not making personal life decisions based off of some personal conversation that you overheard from two random guys in the john. We need to change the subject.”

Hunter rose from the couch and went to look out the patio door of his fifth-floor apartment.

“You’re a jerk, you know that? I’m trying to be serious here so could you just listen?”

Hunter didn’t turn around but just rolled his finger in the air signaling for Luke to keep talking. However, he was losing his patience on this whole subject. Women weren’t worth his time. He was too busy anyway. Hell, his partners’ secretary made a pass at him just about every day. She was even fine looking but he knew she wasn’t in it for anything but sex. The New York City streets were full of the same kind of women. Maybe he should move to a small town and work from home. He could consult online with video chatting. His thoughts jarred when Luke started talking again.

“Okay, the guys were actually talking about the one guy getting married the next week and that he had met his fiancé through an online dating service. I thought it sounded pretty interesting so I asked them some questions and then looked up the business online when I got back in my car.”

“Online? No way! I’m not falling for that, ever. My luck it’d be some eighty-year-old person pretending to be twenty-five with fake pictures and some bogus modeling career. Just leave my love life the way it is please?”

“Non-existent?”

“Yes, exactly. Just how I like it.”

Luke downed the warm beer he’d been holding and headed for Hunter’s frig again, his voice trailing off with him. “Well too late now.”

“What did you just say?”

Hunter jumped up and met him half way, grabbing one of the beers from Luke’s hand.

“What the hell did you do?”

Hunter stilled, only his glare following Luke back to the couch. Luke took an extra-long swig, aggravating Hunter more with every second Luke avoided the question.

“Nothing much, I just registered you with the service.”

“You did what?”

Hunter had never been one to raise his voice to his friends. There’d never been a need to before but he couldn’t think of a better thing to yell about. Hunter dropped onto the couch, sinking low into the over-stuffed cushions. He held his beer between his knees while his head rested heavy in his hands. He can’t believe he was surprised his buddy would hatch a hair-brained scheme. It was typical of the lengths Luke would go to, of course with only the best of intentions but that didn’t mean Hunter was any less mad about it. He just didn’t want someone else finding him the person he was supposed to be spending the rest of his life with. It was hard enough for him to do.

“I guess you’re right, I’m not really getting any younger but an online service? Really?”

“I know, I get it, it does sound pretty hokie but they have recommendations out the ying yang and their qualification process is top notch. They even include a criminal background check.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t really make me feel any better. Maybe I’m not meant to be a family man. Did you ever think of that?”

After a heavy throaty sigh, Hunter propelled himself off the couch once again, placed his mostly full bottle on the table and conceded the inevitable.

“Okay Luke, you win. I’ll do it but I’ll tell you I’m not at all happy about it. I would like to take a few weeks before we have to start though.”

His friend turned a sheepish shade of red, looking like a dear in the headlights.

“Damn it Luke, what aren’t you telling me now?”

“The dating service already has you set up. You fly out tomorrow.”

“Fly? As in an airplane? What the hell did you get me into? I can’t fly anywhere tomorrow, I have work to do.”

“I already talked to your secretary and told her you got called out of town for a few days. Easy peasy, you can check back in with her when you get to your location.

“Luke, you’ve done some pretty low things in the years we’ve known each other but this is downright despicable and shitty, from one friend to another.

Hunter locked his apartment door and turned off the kitchen light.

“You’re welcome to the spare room but I’m going to bed, my head hurts.”

He took a few steps into the hallway before Luke called out to him.

“Your flight leaves at one. Better pack tonight.

“Asshole.”

Hunter mumbled a few more obscenities toward his friend then the apartment went dark.

Chapter 2

Bree stood outside the front of the resort, taking in her surroundings. There weren’t enough words to describe how enormous and amazing the whole place was. Three different towers graced the property which the cab driver had explained to her as they drove toward the complex. She had no clue which she would be staying in but the way they looked from the outside, she couldn’t imagine it would make a difference. Stacy had made all the arrangements so she’d just briefly seen a picture via text message. Her best friend wouldn’t steer her wrong anyway so she wasn’t worried.

After collecting her luggage onto a rolling cart, Bree followed the bellhop from the resort lobby and up the elevator to the eighth floor. Even the hallways were immaculate. He unlocked the door for her and walked in first, placing her luggage on the bed. After he opened the curtains covering the patio door, he handed her the key and asked if there was anything else she might need.

“Thank you but I’m not even sure at this point. There’s so much to take in.”

“No worries Miss Watkins, my name is Anton. If you need anything at all during your stay please just call concierge and I’ll be at your beck and call.”

Bree dug in her purse and gave Anton a small wad of bills, thanking him. With a wink he left the room, closing the door softly.

“Holy shit, this is amazing.” She couldn’t help but smile. If this is what heaven felt like then she’d died and gone there for sure.

There was a fruit tray covered in transparent plastic wrap, laying on the desk with a bottle of Champaign in an ice bucket. She wasn’t quite ready to drink yet but the fruit looked fresh and amazing. She clipped the room key on a lanyard from her purse then laid everything on the desk and nabbed a large slice of pineapple before she walked out onto her balcony.

If she thought the front of the resort was amazing, the back was the Taj mahal and the sun setting over the ocean was a site she’d never forget. There were three very large pools, all connected with long narrow channels.

“I bet those are lazy rivers. I can’t wait to try that.”

There were palm trees everywhere and throughout the grassy areas she could see small pools of water that looked very much like lagoons and each looked like they had different animals in them. Next to each was a small covered pavilion she assumed might be beverages and food for the guests or maybe even to feed what was in the lagoons. Looking out past the pools was a never-ending white sandy beach littered with people watching the sun drop. Bree hadn’t ever been the type of person to plop herself on a beach where there were loads of other people but it was time to get over that fear. Besides there was no way she would know anyone in the Caymans.

Bree unzipped her suitcase and packed away all her clothes into the dresser, leaving her bathing suit and beach towel on the desk for morning. She changed in the bathroom because the modesty in her wouldn’t do it out in the open, even though there was no one else in the room and there was no way to be seen through the patio door. When she came out, she had a missed call from Stacy. She needed a good night’s sleep and it was late in the states anyway.

“She’s going to wait til I’m on the beach in the morning, then I’ll call her back.” She wanted to rub it in just a little. Bree did feel bad for her though. They started planning this trip at least nine months ago and were so excited to see each other again. She also probably needs to call her wireless carrier.

“I never thought about international calling. I bet that’s not part of my unlimited plan. I don’t want to have any surprised when I get my next bill.”

Bree was very anal about finances and the type to pay her bills in their entirety by the due date but cell phones were expensive enough, she didn’t need international roaming jacking it up. Her next thought was if it would charge Stacy overseas charges as well just for calling her phone. She could always reimburse her the costs if they got bad enough.

“I’m so dumb when it comes to being tech savvy.” Her dad was a computer programmer so she usually went to him when she needed help with something. Then her dad would remind her that what the very reason she needed a husband, but she wasn’t ready for that. She liked living alone and having her own things. It would be too weird to have someone else sleeping in her bed. Her dog did, but that was different. He jumped down whenever he got too hot and laid on the floor. A man probably wouldn’t voluntarily sleep on the hardwood, or even the couch for that matter.

“Yep, better off alone. I already know how to cook for one and I clean up after myself. I don’t leave my dirty underwear on the bathroom floor or my leftover hair after shaving in the tub.”

Bree messed with the do not disturb tab that hung on the door, made sure she had her room locked and crawled in bed.

Hunter was hard pressed to wake up. He’d laid awake too long last night worrying about the dumb shit his buddy was getting him into. A Caribbean island wasn’t the worst thing he could be stuck with but would he have to talk to people?

“A dating service to boot, that is so not cool.”

He’d dug out his duffle bag from the top of the closet in his bedroom and started to throw a few things in it, socks and underwear mostly. He wasn’t even sure he owned a pair of swim trunks anymore. He couldn’t even remember the last time he went swimming.

“Hey buddy, what’s up?”

Hunter ignored Luke and went to digging through his drawers for clothes to wear in a hot climate. He’d probably have to buy a pair of flip flops when he got there because dress shoes probably wouldn’t be the best thing to wear in the sand. Those and tennis shoes were all he owned.

“Getting all packed?”

“I’m really not in the mood to talk to you right now, at least while I feel the urge to punch you.”

“Such hostility.” His friend laughed but backed away from the door a little. Apparently, Luke knew when he meant business.

“I am a little surprised you didn’t expect it. Do you realize what you did to me without even asking? It’s my personal life, not yours. Did you ever stop to consider I might be happy with the way things are in my life?”

“No, you’re not. I see you every day and every one of those days you walk around the office like a zombie. Even when Mr. Stevens hottie secretary hits on you, you don’t react. How can you turn down her luscious ass?”

“Because I’m not a man whore like you.”

Hunter walked out of his bedroom, smacking Luke in the shoulder as he passed him.

“You used to be one.

“Well I’m not anymore, get over it. I’m tired of one night stands and maybe copping a feel from a girl was great when I was fifteen but I grew out of that a long time ago. You should too. And don’t forget, our birthdays are only nine months apart. It’s not like I’ve got ten years on you.”

Hunter stuffed his deodorant and tooth brushing stuff in the side compartment. He briefly wondered if it was too big for security at the airport. He hadn’t flown since they started cracking down on the rules and what you were or weren’t allowed to take.

“No way, I’ll never grow out of that and I really thought you were a few years older than me at least.”

“No, we’re not, unless you’re talking about maturity, then I’ve got you beat by about fifteen. Wait, what age did you put on that online dating thing?”

“Actually, I don’t remember.”

“Great, I’m going to get paired with some fifty-year-old, I know it.”

“I don’t really think it’s a pre-arranged thing. I think they just do a few mixers and everybody gets to mingle and hook up from there.”

“Yeah cause that’s any better. I really don’t want to do this.”

Hunter zipped his suitcase closed and set it by the door. He stuffed his wallet in his back pocket along with his plane ticket and then his miscellaneous change and knife in his front pocket and reached for his car keys.

“Hey, you can’t take that knife.”

“Damn it, really?”

“No way, they’ll confiscate it.”

“Great. Makes me feel not so good about the other stuff I’m taking. I don’t really want to have to buy everything when I get there. You’re also damn lucky I have a passport.”

“Yeah, I knew you did, I asked your secretary.”

She would know, she bugged me for almost two weeks to go pick it up.

“Do I need to drop you off at the terminal?

“No thanks, I’m taking my car. I’ll just park in long term and pay the fee. I want to be able to drive myself home just in case I decide to bail out early.”

“I guess you could but you already paid for it so that’d be a waste of money.”

“I paid for it?”

Luke only shook his head.

“Damn you, how’d you get my credit card? No wait, my secretary, again right?”

“Yep she was all too happy to help. She agreed you needed to get away and she even booked your flight for me.”

Think it’s about time to crack down at work. I can’t have my secretary plotting against me whenever she feels like I need a vacation. She was normally a good one though so I won’t be too hard on her.

“Well you two have planned your last scheme together. First thing when I get back, I’m cracking down on her and requesting a new credit card number. Then I’m going to start making all my own arrangements for anything I need.”

Hunter shooed his best friend out of his bedroom, grabbed his sweatshirt and suitcase and headed toward the living room.

“I’m locking the doors and telling the front desk down stairs that no one is allowed upstairs so don’t even try to befriend them. They won’t let you in. Don’t force me have to install an alarm on my apartment door just to keep you out because I will.”

Luke looked hurt but Hunter could see an underlying smirk there as well.

Once they were out in the parking garage, Luke wished him safe travels.

“Make sure you let me know when you land so that I know the plane didn’t crash.”

“Nice. Where is it that I’m going again?”

“I didn’t tell you? You’re going to a 5-star resort in the Cayman Islands. I was told once you check in, they will have a packet for you.”

“What’s the name of the place? And how the hell am I supposed to get there?

“Oh yeah, when you get out of the airport, there will be a driver waiting for you. He’ll know where to take you.”

“Christ Luke, is there anything else you haven’t told me? Nothing like waiting til the last minute.”

“If I think of anything, I’ll call you. You better get going so you don’t miss your flight. Have a wonderful time.”

Luke waved and ran through the garage to the elevator to get to his own car.

“I swear that guy is going to be the death of me.”

Chapter 3

“Oh Stacy, this place is amazing. You did a fantastic job picking it. I only wish you were here with me.”

She owed her friend so much for talking her into the trip in the first place. She had a super crazy job at the ER in the suburb of New York where she lived and it was hard to get away or coordinate with another doctor to take her shifts. She couldn’t discount what Stacy did either, because hospice was demanding as well. No way would Bree ever want to do her friends job. Her grandparents passing when she was younger after a prolonged stay in nursing homes and it broke her heart to visit them every weekend.

Bree was sad that Stacy couldn’t experience this place with her in person. They’d been looking forward to this vacation for a long time.

“Just make sure you have fun for the both of us.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Well I’ll be checking in on you often because I know how much fun you have in your life. If I had that much excitement, I’d die of boredom.”

“Thank you so very much for that exaggeration.”

“Bree, we both know you never go out, you don’t have people over and your takeout is always for one. I bet this very moment you are sitting on a lounge chair you pulled away from all the others to an area with there was no one.”

“How do you do that?”

“You’re drinking a water right now too, instead of an adult beverage, am I right?”

“You can stop any time. Can you just be proud of me for not backing out when I found out you couldn’t come?”

“Awe hon, you know I’m so proud of you. I know this is a big step for you. Just consider it practice for the next time when I will be joining you.”

“I’m holding you to that. I promise I’ll order a drink as soon as I see one of those beach waiters come close.”

“So, was I right about the chair?”

“Shut up.”

Bree’s friend laughed out loud over the phone. The frustrating part for Bree was that Stacy was right about everything. The moment her friend said she had to back out, Bree fought the urge to run right to the check-in counter and change her ticket to a return flight home.

“Don’t you have a sponge bath to give or a bed pan to clean out?”

“Hey now, that’s not nice. Remember I’m living vicariously through you. Please tell me everything, all the gory details. What are you doing right now?”

“Oh, you mean you want the particulars about the cabana boy I just blew in the hammock before I pulled my chaise lounge over to a secure location?”

“Ahh now that’s what I’m talking about, oh shit I gotta go, can I call you right back?”

“Yes, you go, I’ll be ordering my sex on the beach momentarily.”

Her friend was giggling as she disconnected the call. They teased about that stuff a lot but Bree’s friend knew her way better than that. She wasn’t a forward person when it came to guys, especially sex. It was hard enough for her to talk to them. During work was different but she avoided social settings like the plague.

Bree adjusted the backrest on the lounge, draping her beach towel over the lower slats. She then dug out sunscreen from her bag. She’d meant to buy a tanning package last month so she wouldn’t have to intentionally burn herself in the Caribbean sun but getting away from work during tanning hours was next to impossible. As she finished coating her legs, a member of the resort wait staff stopped and asked if she’d like a cocktail. She didn’t usually drink so had no clue what she was supposed to order.

“Sorry to play dumb but could you maybe tell me what’s good?”

The young man rattled off several different fruity drinks and Bree picked the one that sounded the friendliest. Then her phone rang again.

“I tell ya, things are sure getting hot here.”

“You really don’t need to rub it in.”

“Hey, you’re the one that wanted details.”

“Fine, what’s going on now?”

“So, since we know I’m not really a people person, I did relocate my chair to the far side of the beach where the boat docks are. You know, so I didn’t have to deal with any little kids throwing sand or building sand castles and blocking my view.”

“You’re watching boats dock? Really?”

“Well not boats plural but there is one very large speed boat coming toward the pier right now. Looks like it has a couple three guys on it.”

“Sweet, can they see you? And you have your bikini on, right?”

“Yes, to both but trust me, I’ll not be looking at them.”

“But you need to. The chances of you running in to someone there that you know is nil so it’s perfect. You can have a tropical tryst and go home to your regular life afterward. What happens there, stays there kind of thing right?”

“No way, that’s you no me.”

“I know, I’m trying to break you out of your shell.”

“Don’t bother. So, the boat docked and I do have to admit that one of the guys is kind of cute.”

“Ooh yay, is he wearing a ring?”

“I can’t see that far. They all just got out of the boat and they’re walking down the dock. Looks like just one tourist, the other two guys have the same shirts on advertising a charger company. Oh my god the cute guy just took a step and his leg fell through the pier. That’s not good, looks like his leg is stuck. The other two guys are trying to help him. They shouldn’t pull him out like that though.”

“Does he need help Bree? You are a doctor.”

“I’m not licensed here Stacy, legally I shouldn’t help.”

“But you’re a doctor regardless, you’re not performing heart surgery. Just go.”

“Damn it, okay, I’ll call you later.” She ended the call, threw her phone onto the lounge and ran down to the dock.”

“Mr. DuVall, go on ahead up the dock, we’ll grab your catch of the day.”

For not wanting to have gone on this trip at all, at least the weather was beautiful and the people so far had been pleasant. He hadn’t had to lift a finger since he got off the plane in Grand Cayman. He’d arrived late the night before so made quick work of arranging a fishing trip before he got railroaded into something the dating service had planned. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Luke had signed him up for every event they were having.

“Thanks guys, but please call me Hunter. Mr. DuVall is my dad.”

Besides, everyone called him by his proper name all day every day at work. He was tired of hearing it. The people he met here he’d never see again anyway. What were the chances of running into someone from home?

“We will get these fish cleaned and packaged up for you and the resort dining room will cook them any night you want, you just need to let the concierge know.”

Hunter turned to respond when the pier under his feet gave way and his legs dropped through. He fell hard against the slats, his arms slapped the wood and stopped him from going all the way through to the water. He was unable to stop the gut-wrenching moan starting to erupt from deep within. His legs burned like they had been ripped to shreds. He heard the two men yelling his name and felt them grasp at his arms but he was light headed, most likely from shock. The men continued to talk to him but he was having trouble understanding what they were saying. He tried to explain not to move him because it only hurt worse.

He then heard another voice join in the conversation but this one was female. She’d asked the gentlemen what his name was and then started talking to him.

“Hunter, my name is Bree, I’m a doctor from the states. Can you hear me?”

She used her fingers to open his eyes wider which helped him focus more on her. She probably needed to check his pupils or something. She told one of the men to get down into the water under the pier to see if there was any way to support his legs. They also needed to watch the amount of blood he was losing in the water. They didn’t want to attract any unwanted predators.

There was a lot of commotion and movement on the wooden dock and then he felt something wrap around each of his legs.

“Hunter, are you still with me? We put a wrap around your legs and they are going to stay down underneath to help steady you while we try to pull a few boards off of the dock. Hopefully that will let us get you out of that hole. Then we’ll lay you onto a back board we have waiting here and get you up on the beach so I can take a better look at your injuries okay?”

When she asked if he’d rather them find a doctor from the island to look at him he shook his head furiously.

“I want you, please stay.”

“You got it, I’ll be right here with you all the way.”

She grasped his fingers and he squeezed hers. That gesture gave him more comfort than she could imagine. As the men carefully worked on the dock boards, she kept up the conversation. They’d already established she was from the states but he didn’t know if she was just visiting the island or lived there full time.

“Where are you from Hunter, can you tell me?”

Of course, he knew where he was from but he felt so groggy that it was hard to talk. He tried to mouth New York but it wasn’t sounding the way it should.

“Maybe we should just keep the conversation light for now. We don’t want you to waste any extra energy. I know it’s got to be difficult holding yourself up with your arms. How about I ask you a few questions and just nod for yes or shake side to side for no.”

Head movement was much less strenuous, he could probably handle that.

“Water.” It was just a whisper but she’d heard his plea.

“Oh gosh, I’m sure you’re thirsty. I have a bottle up on the beach. I’ll be just a few seconds, let me go grab it for you.”

When she rushed away, he caught a whiff of coconut and the ocean. She smelled like the islands. The thought of her living here on the islands was a bit of a letdown.

“Here we are Hunter, a full bottle of water but I only want you to take small sips okay? No need to rush.”

Not that he was in a bed, but she had a very good bedside manner. She could take care of him any day.

Hunter could tell when they’d successfully removed the boards around him and he wasn’t able to hold himself up anymore. The men below had a firm grip on his legs and waist and carefully lowered him down until he was laying on something hard, then they floated him the rest of the way to the beach. They positioned him on top of a picnic table and he heard Bree tell someone that she needed first aid supplies and a stitch kit if possible. He would need to be sewn closed after she had a closer look at the wounds and cleaned them.

“I’m sorry to say this process might hurt a little.”

“Eh, no pain, no gain.”

“Oh, that’s very sportsmanlike of you.” She laughed and placed a hand on his chest. “I don’t have anything to numb you with so when I stitch those wounds, you’re going to feel that.

“Unfortunately, this isn’t my first rodeo with stitches. On occasion, I tend to be accident prone.”

“Wow, glad you’re talking better. I think getting you out of that up and down position helped a little. We’re still going to need to get you to the medical center on the island. I don’t have any meds to give you and I’m guessing in a few hours, your legs will be throbbing a bit.”

“I’m not going to turn down meds so if I have to go then so be it. As long as they don’t keep me there. I’d like to sleep in that comfy bed.”

“I doubt they’ll need to do that but we’ll just wait and see.”

A man from the wait staff brought a crate full of supplies and Bree looked in her element.

“Ok Hunter, let’s get you fixed up, shall we?”

Hunter closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, hoping beyond hell this beautiful American doctor knew what she was doing.

Chapter 4

Bree’s afternoon had been eventful to put it mildly. She looked on as the island doctor checked Hunter over thoroughly while the nurse hooked him up on a saline drip. He’d been stuck in that precarious position for longer than he should have in that kind of heat. It wouldn’t be a good thing to have him get dehydrated, that’d mean he’d have to stay in their medical center overnight at least and from his remark earlier, he wasn’t too keen on that idea. He may have lost a little blood as well. The cuts on his legs looked a bit deep.

“Excuse me ma’am, who are you? We don’t allow anyone in the operating room except immediate family so you’ll have to leave.”

“Oh, I’m the doctor from…”

“She’s my girlfriend, I want her to stay.”

Hunter cut off her answer and spoke for her at the same time. She looked inquisitively at him and mouthed girlfriend with a confused expression. He motioned for her to keep quiet.

“Is that correct ma’am? Are you his girlfriend?”

“Uh yes I am, sorry.” She was afraid to say any more. If she didn’t agree that she was with him, they’d kick her out and she wanted to make sure he was going to be okay.

“Then you can stay. And did you say you’re a doctor?”

“I am.”

“You did the clean up on his leg wounds then?”

“I did but there wasn’t much to work with, we were on the beach at the resort. They only had a first aid kit so I did what I could.”

“You did a superb job, without your help he could have bled too much, they are very deep cuts.”

She looked at Hunter who had a horrifically pale expression. She didn’t think he had any idea how much damage had been done. Between the loss of blood and the blistering heat, he had gotten weak and a little delusional. Maybe that could be the reason for telling them she was his girlfriend.

“We’d like for him to remain her for the next little while on the IV and pain medication, then we’ll check him again. More than likely he’ll be able to leave after that.”

“Thanks so much, is it okay if I stay with him?”

The doctor agreed to let Bree stay with Hunter while he waited to be rehydrated and hopefully released. She moved to his side when everyone had left.

“Thanks for staying.”

“It’s no problem. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“I don’t want to keep you from your husband, he can’t be happy to have you here with me.”

Everything happened so fast, she didn’t even think about them not knowing each other. They were in a strange place too and her guess was that by him telling the hospital staff she was his girlfriend, that he didn’t have anybody in the islands with him.

“I don’t have a husband. And before you ask, no boyfriend either, besides you of course.”

She giggled but when he did too, he emitted a moan and a pained expression. Hard telling how bruised his ribs were from being stuck in between the slats of the pier up to his abdomen.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you laugh.” She felt horrible. She’d never had that pain personally but had seen plenty of it in the Emergency Room.

“It’s okay.” He had to breath between words. “I won’t hold it against you.”

“So, what about you, a wife or girlfriend in your life?”

“You mean besides you?” He started to laugh but thought better of it, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “No, no one special.” He shrugged, suggesting it wasn’t a big deal.

“What brings you to the islands?”

“That’s a long story unfortunately.”

“Well we have the time, they aren’t letting you out of here anytime soon.”

“True. This wasn’t what I had planned for my day for sure. I actually didn’t plan to take this trip in the first place.”

“Then why are you here?” Bree grabbed a chair from behind the curtain and pulled it beside the bed.

“I’m here because my best buddy had a stupid hair-brained idea. Apparently, I wasn’t happy in my personal life so he signed me up for a dating service.”

“Oh boy. Why didn’t you just say no?”

“He was very convincing. He called and conspired with my secretary and miraculously I had a week off work. Both thought they knew better and that I needed to find a wife because my biological clock was ticking.”

“Are you kidding? That’s ridiculous. Men don’t have biological clocks.”

“Ha, that’s exactly what I said. But, she gave him my credit card and booked the trip, which was non-refundable so I just bit the bullet. I’d be out the money either way and I did need a vacation but it’s the dating game part of the trip I’m not looking forward to.”

“Dating game, what does that mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. They have a whole group of people here that also signed up with the matchmaker service. There is supposed to be some mixer party tonight where we all socialize and basically find someone to hook up with. Not my idea of finding a spouse.”

“That’s horrible. I didn’t realize they still did stuff like that. Are you going to go?”

“I was trying to forget about it while I went on a fishing excursion but now I may not have to worry about it. Even if they do let me out of here, I don’t really think I’m in any shape for a party.”

“I agree, you will definitely need to be in your room relaxing.”

“I was thinking though, I might really need a personal nurse to keep an eye on me through the night. Know anyone that might fit the bill?”

Oh, my lord.

Probably not the smartest thing he could have suggested after this woman he doesn’t really know helped save his life. He should just be thankful she was there, but if they were single and both on vacation why not stick together. Of course, he had an ulterior motive too, it would keep him from having to go to that stupid matchmaker mixer.

“So, you never said, what brings you to the islands?”

“A girl’s vacation actually.”

“Oh, so you have a friend here?”

I should have known she wouldn’t be alone. Damn it.

“No, I don’t. She couldn’t make it but I was already half way here and it would have cost me more to change my ticket to take me home so I just decided, with her encouragement, to continue with the plan.”

“Well my legs are glad you decided to keep going.”

“I’m sure someone else would have been able to help you had I not been there.”

“Yeah maybe, but you were there and I owe you. How about when I do get out of here, we get some dinner?”

“Shouldn’t you go to that mixer though? If you’re good enough to go out to dinner then you could manage that event.”

“The way I see it, I agreed to go on this trip but I never said I’d follow through with all the matchmaking stuff. That was all my buddy’s idea but I’m not in favor of someone else picking women for me. It’s just not natural.”

“I agree, I’d never willingly agree to one of those sites. I have heard many people have success with finding their perfect match but I’d rather not. I’m too busy with my job, I don’t have time to date.”

“Same. My client load has tripled this year. I do have a good secretary though, so I felt a little more comfortable leaving, knowing she was in on the planning. She would have called any appointments I had and rescheduled. Plus, I’m only a phone call away.”

“An expensive phone call. I don’t’ even want to see my phone bill after this trip. My best friend has called me multiple times.”

“Why wasn’t she able to come with you? Do you both do the same kind of job?”

“We’re both in the medical field but we have different jobs. She is a hospice nurse. Takes a special kind of person to do that job. I don’t have the heart for it. I’m a doctor, which you know already, but I work in the ER.”

“Wow, kudos to her. My family had a hospice nurse in when my grandmother passed away. So where is it that you do this work?”

“I work out of Phelps Memorial Hospital in Sleepy Hollow but I have a condo in Briarcliff Manor. That’s a suburb of New York City.”

“Oh sure, I now right where that’s at. I have a couple clients that live in Briarcliff.”

“You’re from New York?”

“I am actually. My office is on the northern side and I have a small apartment about fifteen minutes from my office.”

“What exactly do you do?”

Before Hunter as able to answer, a nurse came into his room to check his vitals.

“Does this mean I get to leave?”

“I’m sorry I can’t authorize that, you’ll have to talk to the doctor. He’ll be in soon.”

She didn’t sound at all reassuring. From the look on Bree’s face, she didn’t think so either. When the nurse was done marking in the chart, she hung it at the end of the bed and left the room.

“Please tell me she means he’ll be back in five minutes?”

“Afraid I can’t tell you that. In our hospital, soon means from five minutes to five hours. We aren’t ever able to predict when we’ll get from one room to the next.”

“That’s what I was afraid of when I saw the look on your face. Is there anything you can do to get me out of here quicker? Look at my chart maybe?”

“Technically I’m not allowed to do that Hunter. I’m not a member of the staff for this hospital, heck I’m not licensed to do anything in this country.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

Please, please have a little sympathy for me…

“Ugh, I could really get in trouble for this but, I’m kind of tired of sitting here too so maybe I’ll just take a peak. However, that doesn’t mean I can get you out any faster.”

Yes! I knew I liked this woman.

Chapter 5

After scanning the notes on Hunter’s chart, Bree was convinced they didn’t have much else to keep him for. The nurse had noted he’d been hydrating well and didn’t have another bag of saline ordered. The wounds on his legs were all stitched and seemed to be holding well. When the doctor reappeared, Bree suggested they release him if she promised to keep him immobile once they were back at the resort and that she would watch him overnight. They hesitantly agreed and after signing all the papers, Hunter paid the small fee. Technically the resort should have taken care of it because the boards were faulty on their pier and who knows, they may still.

When the cab pulled into the circle in front of the resort, Hunter handed the driver cash. Bree got out first and went to the concierge office to see if there was a wheel chair available so Hunter didn’t have to put any more pressure on his legs than he should. The medical center didn’t have any crutches to spare and ordering them wouldn’t get them there til they had already left the island after their vacation was over.

“Okay sunshine, let’s wheel you inside.”

She locked the wheels and helped Hunter out of the back seat and into the wheel chair. The medical center had completely gauze-wrapped both of his legs to keep them clean and gave Bree a stock-pile to change the bandages two or three more times. She handed the supplies to him.

“Hold these for me while I push you.”

They made their way to the elevator where the manager of the resort joined them for the ride up to Hunter’s room. He’d apologized profusely, more than once and reassured both that their room fees would be taken care of by the resort and that Hunter would be reimbursed for the hospital visit as well. The man accompanied them to Hunter’s room where inside they found a three-course meal being laid out for them. He offered any other services they might need at any time and gave them his card and private cell phone number before he left.

“Wow, I guess you rate huh.”

Bree helped Hunter stand so that he could maneuver into one of the dining chairs and left the wheel chair by the room door for now.

“Looks like we both rate. A private dinner with no matchmaking. Sounds perfect to me.”

“Guess you got your wish at least this time. Are there other things planned for the rest of the week?

“Honestly I’m not sure. When I checked in this morning, there was a note waiting for me to go to a specific room and check in with the service so they must have a representative here on the premises to keep track of everything.”

Bree pulled the metal cover from her plate to see what they were being served.

“Oh geez, prime rib is my favorite.”

“Mine too, and look at this lobster bisque. I think we’re eating like kings tonight.”

“Well kings and queens maybe.”

She smirked at him but then dug in to her steak before she posed a little game.

“Are you up for a round of twenty questions while we eat?”

“Sure, is this anything like strip poker where we take off a piece of clothing for each question we answer?”

Bree noticed he was hiding his face, probably afraid to see her reaction. She wasn’t surprised he asked though. One other time he’d put himself out there with a risky statement. If she was being truthful with herself, he was a nice guy. She’d noticed him when he first pulled up in the boat that he was good looking. Wouldn’t hurt to leave herself open for the possibility. Wouldn’t that give her friend something to chirp about.

“That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind since I don’t know you all that well but we’ll have to see what the week brings.”

“I can deal with that. I’ll ask the first question.”

Before they knew it twenty questions turned into a two-hour extended conversation and they’d lost track of the number. She talked about her parents in Chicago and that she’d met her best friend there because they were next door neighbors growing up. That brought them to the planning of the girls’ vacation and how Stacy lived out in California and they didn’t see each other hardly ever.

After dinner, they had moved to the sofa in the sitting area of Hunter’s room. He took his turn telling Bree how he’d met Luke in high school and they went to the same college and got an apartment off campus. That he was also the same friend that had just recently betrayed him, signing him up for the matchmaker service.

“I am still just dumbfounded at the fact your best friend took the initiative, without your permission to sign you up for something so drastic. It’d be one thing to have a few dinners at a local restaurant in New York but for him to arrange for you to fly all the way to the Cayman Islands because he thought you needed a wife. Just blows me away he had the balls to go through with that.”

“Yeah, it was quite a shock to me as well. And he literally gave me no warning either. He told me the night before the flight.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t kill this guy, friend or not. However, I can’t say I’d put it past Stacy to do something like that to me given the opportunity. I still think she set me up and didn’t come on purpose. Heck for all I know, she only booked my arrangements and never made any for herself.”

“Would she do that?”

“I’m just not sure. She’s always trying to get me to step outside of my sheltered social life and live a little but I’m just not the type. I’d rather work and come home.”

“Agreed, I’m the same.”

Bree glanced at her watch, surprised it had gotten so late.

“We probably need to change those bandages before it gets much later and I’m too tired to function.”

“Ooh does that mean sponge bath too?”

Why was he always putting his damn foot in his mouth? They hadn’t even known each other twenty-four hours but he felt like they’d been friends for years. She was so easy to talk to. They’d definitely met under unusual circumstances and he was grateful to her for being there when he needed the help.

“I have to warn you, I’m kind of known in the hospital for my unforgiving bedside manner.”

“Do I dare ask why?”

“Well, I’ve been at my job for a few years now and the people that come into the Emergency Room aren’t always the best behaved. Sometimes they are in a lot of pain and that tends to make them say things they might not normally say. Sometimes the guys get a little fresh and there’s always a handful of drunks that come in too. I think those are the worst.”

“Why do you keep doing it?”

“Because I always wanted to help people.”

She’d said it without a second thought but she probably had one of the hardest jobs out there. Saving lives was bound to be rewarding but not everyone that went in to the ER came out again and he didn’t know how she could deal with that. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of emotional pressure.

Bree grabbed the ice bucket and mixed hot water and the antibacterial soap the medical center had given them. She came back and crouched down in front of him and proceeded to peel off the tape put in place to keep the gauze covering his wounds.

“I’m sorry to say you’re going to have some scars after this is all heeled.”

“Yeah, I suppose so. I never had the prettiest legs anyway.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that, they look good from where I’m sitting.”

Was that a compliment?

Once Bree had all the wraps removed, she wet the small sponge and ran it all over from Hunter’s foot to the crease of his thigh near his groin. He tried to help by gathering the bottom of his swimming trunks up as far as he could but she was getting close to some pretty sensitive areas. No way could he lie about it, he was getting turned on. The bad thing was, she’d only washed one leg so far. If she touched his other leg in the same areas, he couldn’t guarantee the reaction she’d get and there was no way she wouldn’t see it.

“Is everything okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“No, not really.”

“What does that mean?”

How could he explain it without sounding like a sex-addicted pig?

“It’s not a bad pain, if you know what I mean?” When she rolled her eyes, he knew she’d gotten his point. “I’m sorry, I’m a guy. We have no tact.”

“No, it’s my fault. It’s that bedside manner I told you about. I’ve dealt with so much crap at work that I had to disconnect myself otherwise I wouldn’t be able to deal with it. I mean, one time a guy came into the ER complaining about a burning at the tip of his penis and I was the doctor on call that night so the guy was all too happy to strip off his pants and even tried helping my hands to touch him. I ended up getting one of the guy nurses on shift to take over.”

“Yikes I can see where that’d be tough for you.”

“It is what it is. I just usually charge right through it without getting emotionally involved. Even the old guys take shots. I got a marriage proposal after a rectal exam once.”

She scrunched the sponge into the water again and started on Hunter’s other leg. He tried to think of anything other than how close she was getting to his sack, even the dreaded thought of his parents having sex didn’t work. He simply couldn’t control is libido. It had a mind of its own and had no qualms about rising to attention as she reached the top of his thigh.

When she stopped her progression, and looked up into his face, he only had one thought. He needed to kiss her. His fingers dug into the dirty blond hair pooled around her neck, pulling her closer to him as his lips connected with hers. She didn’t pull away like he feared. Quite the opposite, she wrapped her arms around his neck, matching his enthusiasm. Desire surged through his veins. She’d rested her stomach between his legs, rubbing against the bulge in his swim trunks and her breasts brushed provocatively against his chest. His cock swelled against her. Hunter pulled his lips from hers and buried his nose in her sweet tropical-smelling hair.

“I want you.”

As she moved against him, getting impossibly closer, her shirt rode up from her hips to show a subtle line of skin. His hands moved to caress her tight hips, grinding her against him. He wanted to be gentle with her, she didn’t deserve rough but he could barely control himself. In an attempt at calm, he kissed her gently, feather soft, across her lips. She melted against him like she belonged there. As he moved closer to her, he realized they were still on the couch.

“I’m in no hurry to end what we have started here but do you mind if we move over to the bed?”

“I don’t mind at all. But do you want me to re-wrap your wounds first?”

She raised off her knees and back away from the couch so Hunter could stand. He came close and enveloped her in his embrace, walking her backward as his lips grazed over her jawline and down her neck until her legs bumped the bedframe. She pushed him away and crawled up into the center of the four-poster bed, pulled her tank up over her head, revealing the navy-blue bikini triangles that barely covered her luscious breasts. Then out of one of his wettest dreams she untied the strings and threw the tiny top on the floor. As she watched him, she raised up onto her knees and unbuttoned her shorts, edging them ever so slowly over her hips teasing him with every wiggle. He’d never been so hard in his life and wanted so badly to get his hands on her.

When Bree had her shorts and bathing suit bottoms riding snug over her mid thighs, she laid on her back shifting her legs into the air so she could squeeze the scraps of materials over her ass and off, sending them flying to join the rest of her clothes on the floor. He didn’t wait for her to sit back up, he crawled onto the bed and dug his teeth into the luscious cheeks of her ass. Then he spread her legs apart to reveal her damp and swollen pink pussy. He couldn’t stop himself from tasting her with one lick and then another while she writhed atop the bed, clenching her teeth in anticipation. He didn’t want her to come this way, not until he was a part of her, inside her. He backed away from her before he drove her to the peak.

“No, don’t go.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going far.”

He made quick but careful work of his swim trunks. Didn’t want to damage the stitched areas on his legs but he needed free of his tightened pants. When he glanced back to Bree, she’d propped herself up on her elbows and watched him strip.

“You sure are a yummy site sitting there all pretty.” She smiled, her cheeks flushed.

“We aren’t going to hurt your legs, are we?”

“At this point, I don’t care, a hurricane couldn’t keep me away from you.”

Hunter crawled onto the bed and settled into the cradle of her pelvis. As she fell onto her back, his hands moved to palm her ass, bringing him snug into her wet heat. Her pussy pulsed in response. His eyes were fixed on her baby blues as they shuttered, on the verge of closing. When he pushed himself into her in one thrust, her eyes flew open.

“Oh!”

“Did I hurt you?” Hunter stilled, afraid he’d done something wrong.

“God no Hunter, don’t stop,” she pleaded.

Her pleas gave him all the encouragement he needed to plow into her, his fingers digging into her hips. The more powerful and deep his thrusts became, the more she squirmed, begging him to take her over the edge. She was so close and he wanted to be there with her. He moved his hands to palm her breasts, his fingers pinching at her nipples until he felt her tighten around his cock. He knew she was ready so he drove into her hard and fast until she screamed, sending them both over the edge together.

Chapter 6

Bree stood in the doorway of the bathroom after her shower, watching Hunter sleep. Over the last couple days, they’d barely left his room. She did venture to hers just to collect her things. The manager had checked on them a few times, letting them know that both of their credit cards would be refunded the amount of their rooms, in lieu of Mr. DuVall’s accident. He’d continued to apologize for the mishap and made sure that every meal they’d ordered from room service had been paid for by the resort.

She’d been ignoring her cell phone for a couple days, knowing Stacy would be angry with her by the time she got around to calling her back. It had been really nice just hiding from the rest of the world and they’d had hours of the best sex she’d ever had.

Truthfully, she was also avoiding Stacy just a little bit. The last time they talked, Stacy said that when she least expected it, Bree would find someone and she wasn’t ready to admit to her friend she’d been right. Someone had come into Bree’s life completely by surprise and he was wonderful. She was already attached and that was potentially a problem. They were both going home in a couple days and they hadn’t talked about it. He would go back to his apartment and his job and she back to her own life. Who knows if they would see each other again and it worried her.

“Hey beautiful, what’s up?”

“Oh gosh, you scared me.” Bree went over and crawled in bed beside Hunter. “Nothing, I’m okay. Just got out of the shower and you were sleeping so peacefully I just wanted to watch you for a little bit.”

“Are you sure? You looked far away.”

“Yeah I was. Just dreading that we’re going home in a couple days.”

“I know honey, I was trying not to think about it. We’ve been in our own little world and I’m not ready to leave.”

“I need to call Stacy back today too. She’s left some pretty frantic messages on my phone.”

“Luke called me once or twice too but what we were doing was much more important.”

“It’s so funny, we haven’t done anything outside of this room but I’m totally okay with that. Oh, my gosh I totally forgot, what about the matchmaker service?”

“They have called a few times too. Whoever is leading the festivities here left a message at the front desk and the woman from the home office back in New York has left two voicemails. I don’t even care. They already have my money and as far as I’m concerned, they can keep it. I found my match, it just wasn’t by them.”

Bree wrapped her arms around Hunter and kissed him.

“You are so sweet, and I feel the same way. How’d we get so lucky?”

“Guess we can credit the Grand Cayman resort because if it weren’t for their crappy pier, you wouldn’t have had to save me from bleeding to death and we probably wouldn’t have met.

“I think you’re wrong.”

“What? Why am I wrong?”

“Because I noticed you when you pulled up to the island in that boat, before you ever got onto that crappy pier.”

“No way, really?”

She couldn’t tell whether he was surprised or not and she assumed he never saw her. But then why would he notice her when there were so many other people on the beach.

“Hey where’d you go again, I saw your features change before my eyes. I was only joking with you.”

“Dang it, I can never tell when you’re being serious.” She smacked his arm and he curled up, acting like it hurt.

“Okay, I promise I’ll stop joking around, at least for now. Hey how do you feel about going downstairs to the buffet for lunch today?”

“I’m game but I do need to call Stacy before we go anywhere.”

“You do that and I’m going to get in the shower. It’s a shame you got dressed already, you could join me if you want. A shower with me would be much cheaper than that international call.” He climbed out of bed but kissed her very thoroughly first. She watched him walk to the bathroom completely naked. He was a seriously fine specimen.

When she heard the shower turn on she grabbed her cell to call Stacy. If she got in the shower with him, they’d spend another entire day in his room. She could too easily get used to that kind of sex every day. It wasn’t just about the sex for her though. She liked his company. He was comfortable to be around and she felt like she could talk to him about anything. She hadn’t ever had that kind of a connection with the other guys she’d dated. She really hadn’t even dated anybody officially, it was more like a booty call or a one night stand and boy if she hadn’t known then what she was missing out on. Those guys didn’t even compare to what she’d experienced the last few days.

Her cell phone rang, scaring her half to death.

“Stacy, hi.”

“What in the hell happened to you? I have been calling you for two days. I even called the hotel and talked to the manager because I was worried about you.”

“I’m so sorry, things just got a little crazy the last few days. I promise everything is okay and I’m fine.”

“You’re fine. You’re fine? Really, just fine? Two days Bree, what the hell. What happened with that guy you went to help, you never called me after that either.”

“I know, I’m sorry okay, I never meant to make you worry.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I kind of met someone.”

“Are you frickin’ serious right now? Tell me.”

“Well, it was the guy from the boat.”

“The one that fell? Oh my god Bree, really? That’s awesome. I need the details please. You have kept me in the dark for way too long. I can’t go that long without talking to you, especially under these circumstances.”

“I know and I really am sorry. After I hung up with you and went to help him things kind of snowballed. We were at the hospital til later that evening and everything progressed from there.”

“Progressed like how?”

“Well you know, progressed intimately.”

“Bree, did you sleep with him?”

“Yes, and holy crap it was amazing.”

“Yay, woohoo and holy shit I’m so happy for you. See I knew you’d meet someone. I told you, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and you don’t have to rub it in. It wasn’t planned but Stacy I have really fallen for this guy. I’m just worried about what happens when we leave this island.”

“Where is he from?”

“New York but he’s as crazy busy with work as I am. I’m afraid that once we leave our little, oh what did you call it, tropical tryst, that we won’t see each other again. But that’s not what I want.”

“Hey now, if it’s meant to be, then it’ll happen. You need to try being positive for once okay? Trust me. Just like I knew you’d meet someone, I know that the two of you will find a way to make it work once you’re both back in New York.”

“Thanks for your optimism, I needed to hear that.”

“I’m glad I could help but right now I have to run, it’s time for my med run. Please take care of yourself and call me tomorrow if you think about it. I promise I won’t but you again today. Go enjoy your man.”

“Thanks Stacy, love you.”

“Love you too girl.” And the phone went dead. Where that girl got her energy, one would never know.

Stacy had given Bree a lot to think about and being positive was a challenging thing for her to do but she’d try because she didn’t want any of it to end badly. She ducked back under the covers and buried her face in Hunters pillow. It smelled like him and it made her happy.

Hunter turned on the shower so Bree would feel comfortable in calling her best friend. He knew they had a lot to talk about. After all, this was a trip they’d planned on taking together. He shouldn’t have done it but he stayed by the door trying to listen to what Bree was saying, just because he was curious how she really felt about him. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her when she said she had feelings for him and hated to see the week end but he wanted to hear the girl talk. Unfortunately, he couldn’t hear much with the shower running. He tried turning the shower head toward the wall to make it sound like the water was hitting me but it also made it a bit less noisy. If she knew what he was doing, she’d be so mad.

He also didn’t want to let on that he was just as worried as her about what was going to happen when their week ended. He never imagined he’d find someone like her and by accident too, literal accident. He wanted to see her again after this week, and keep seeing her. She was everything he didn’t realize he was looking for in a woman. He’d been so busy with his career, he never stopped to think about anything else. She was easy to talk to, they liked a lot of the same things and he felt like himself when he was around her which was an important thing. A few girls in his past had changed who he was when he was with them and he didn’t like that side of himself. Neither of them stopped to think about it but they were extremely lucky that they both lived in New York, and not that far away from each other. Geographical distance would have made things much too complicated. Long distance relationships rarely worked.

So, did he want to see her once they were home? “Absolutely. As much as humanly possible.” He would have no problem even moving closer to her. She already drove in the opposite direction to work so asking her to move closer to him wouldn’t be fair. He lived just around the corner from his office so he could give a little for sure. Plus, he hated his place. It was small and noisy. It was probably one of those things they would deal with the time comes but he would make sure to put the idea out there.

Hunter adjusted the water temperature and climbed in. He’d look like an idiot if she did decide to join him like he’d invited her to do and he not be in there. As he moved the shower head back to the correct position he heard his cell vibrate on the sink.

“Shit.” He grabbed for it and answered quickly.

“Hey buddy, what’s going on. Having that much fun matchmaking?”

“Ha, very funny. I haven’t been to one event or even talked to any of them.”

“Why not, that’s why you’re there? You are there, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I’m here. I’m not that stupid, I did have to pay for it all so why not enjoy the vacation.”

“Then why haven’t you been in touch with the service?”

“Because I found my own girl.”

“What? Seriously? Dude, give me details, who is she?”

“Nope. Not giving any details, you can meet her, maybe, once we’re back in New York.”

“She’s coming here with you?”

“Luke I gotta go, I’m in the shower. I’ll let you know when I’m back in town. Bye now.”

He hung up before his buddy could ask any more questions. Luke had already done enough damage, Hunter wasn’t letting him have this moment, it was his.

“Boy I bet he’s boiling mad right about now though.”

“Are you talking to yourself?”

“Oh, hey did you decide to join me? Come on in.” Hunter threw the curtain back to see Bree sitting Indian style on the toilet seat shaking her head.

“As much as I want to, If I get in that shower, we’ll end up never leaving this room.”

“You right about that, I’d keep you in my bed all day every day if I could. But we did agree to get out today and hit the buffet downstairs. Maybe we can walk around the resort too but I’d prefer if we could avoid the pier?”

Her laugh was rejuvenating, he could listen to it every waking moment.

“We probably should stay away from there. The resort manager is already worried we might sue for damages. I’m sure they’ve fixed the broken boards by now. Can’t have any more mishaps, I’m sure it’s bad for business. I know the doctor said you could shower after a couple days but I’m not sure the ocean is wise. Too much bacteria could get into your healing wounds, plus the salt water might hurt.”

“Yeah even the soap stings a little but it looks like the stitches are already starting to recess a little.”

“That’s a good thing, that means you’re starting to heal.”

Hunter continued his shower, washing his hair first then running the wash cloth over his entire body, care not to catch any stitches. When he glanced at Bree, she was observing him with interest. He’d never been a voyeur of sorts but also didn’t have a problem changing in front of other people, but the way she was looking him up and down, scrutinizing his every move, made him proud. They hadn’t really talked specifics but for all tense and purposes, she was his girlfriend.

“You know, I’ve been thinking, I really think we could make this work.”

“Yeah, what work, me watching you shower? I don’t mind it either.”

Bree giggled at him but he could see the nervous edge she was carrying. She knew he was talking about them making it work together as a couple and it scared her because they had separate lives. The way he saw it though, everyone had separate lives and becoming a couple is about merging those two lives into one. He just had to convince her it could work. Lots of people live on one side of the city and work on the other so it’s do-able for sure.

He finished washing then shut the water off. When he opened the curtain all the way, she handed him a towel.

“I know you’re worried about what happens when we leave here but you know what, I really do think we can make this work.” He stepped out of the shower, wrapped the towel around his waist and kneeled in front of her.

“I need you to do me a favor okay?” Damn it she was so beautiful, even when sadness and fear etched her features. A single tear rimmed her eye and he moved his finger to brush it away as it fell. “Honey don’t cry, it’s really going to be okay. I promise.”

She smiled but he could tell she was having a tough time believing him.

“Listen, I had no pre-conceived notions about meeting anybody when I came here. You already heard the whole sorted story of why I was here. Then I met you, and I can’t begin to tell you how happy I am that I did, and not just because you helped me. When we pulled into the dock, I noticed you right away sitting in your chaise lounge on the beach and was heading right for you when I fell through the pier. Maybe it was divine intervention, who knows, but now that you’re in my life, I’m not letting you out that easy. A little drive isn’t going to deter me.”

“Are you a lawyer, because that was a pretty convincing argument.”

“No, a financial advisor. I just know how I feel and I hope you feel the same.”

“I do feel the same.”

“Ok then let’s give us the benefit of the doubt okay?”

“I promise I’ll try.”

“That’s all I can ask.” He kissed her once, twice and a very long third time. “Now let’s go eat.”

“Uh Hunter, I think maybe you should put some clothes on first or I might have some competition once we are out in public.”

“Oh shit, yeah you’re right.”

Chapter 7

“I cannot believe there is so much food on that bar. I want to try it all.”

“Then, why don’t you?”

“I would be full before I even got through a quarter of it. I didn’t even really know where to start. A few things looked familiar so I went with them.”

“Do you like seafood?”

“Well, I’ve never really stepped outside of the box when it came to food. I like fish, as in the cardboard box in the freezer of the grocery store kind.”

“Do you trust me?”

“In theory…”

“Try this.” Hunter put the fork right up to Bree’s mouth and didn’t give her much choice but to take it.

“Oh, that’s really good, what is it?”

“It’s called crawfish. It looks like a lobster but about two or three inches long.”

“Really? And they had those up there? I didn’t see anything like that.”

“They aren’t in the shell anymore. They mixed them in a sauce and served it with pasta.”

“I need to get some of that. What else do you have that I can try?”

“So now you want to step out of your box?”

“That’s not a terrible thing, is it? What’s the thing with the mushrooms in it?”

“Oh, that is…”

“Excuse me folks, please accept my apologies for interrupting your lunch. We have a situation that we are needing to deal with immediately.”

“Okay, what’s happening?”

The resort manager took a seat with Hunter and Bree and proceeded to explain that there has been a growing hurricane spotted and heading in their direction. Because they were on an Island, they couldn’t take any chances so they have taken it upon themselves to contact the airlines and change everyone’s return tickets to fly out between that evening and tomorrow. Theirs was processed together and will leave that evening. Because parts of their stay had been less than positive, in addition to giving them both a full refund, he was given authority to provide them with an all-expenses paid vacation for any future date of their choosing. He let them know their tickets would be waiting at the front desk when they checked out of their room and let them know the time. He bid them farewell, thanked them for being so understanding and disappeared.

“I can’t believe it. We’re going home now.” Bree slumped in her chair, shocked at the news they’d just received.

“We should probably be thankful. I for one am not keen on being here in the middle of a hurricane. I’ve already had enough mishaps on my own.”

“I guess you’re right. We should probably get up to the room and pack.”

A waiter stopped at their table and gave them take out containers and told them they were welcome to take lunch to go so they packed them full and headed for their room.

“At least they got us on the same flight, right?”

He couldn’t hardly believe a storm was forcing them to go home early. They had both counted on having a couple more days together but mother nature was working against them.

“Did you park your car at the airport?”

“Heck yeah, I didn’t want Luke taking me anywhere. I was pissed off at him when I left for getting me into this mess. I guess I owe him an apology and a thank you now, damn it. How are you getting home, is our car waiting for you too?”

“No, I left from the hospital so a co-worker dropped me off on her way home. It was easier and saved on long term parking.”

“Smart thinking. Does that mean I get to take you home?”

“That would be great. I was just going to call a cab at the end of the week but I’d much rather you.”

“Guess you’re stuck with me for a little bit longer.”

She walked up to him and placed her hands on his cheeks, looked at him for a moment then kissed him. He felt the emotion seeping from her fingers as she held him. Then all too soon she’d released him and went into the bathroom, closing the door.

“He went to the door and placed a hand against it. “Are you okay?”

Her voice was muffled but she said she was fine. He didn’t think so but let her be and went to finish packing his bag. The bellhop appeared at their door at the same time they were preparing to open it.

“Anton, thank you so much, you have perfect timing.”

“Yes ma’am, we are sorry to see you go so soon but wish you pleasant travels home.” He collected their bags onto the cart and led the way to the elevators. “There is a transport waiting outside in the circle and I believe you are the last two scheduled to be on there.”

The bellhop was correct. When they reached the front doors, there was a large transport bus waiting. He loaded their luggage in the underneath compartment and said a few words to the driver. Hunter gave him a sizable tip and they climbed on the bus. Hunter put his arm around Bree as they watched out the window while the resort got further and further away.

As if the world were bowing at their feet, as soon as they stopped in front of the terminal, they were ushered to the curbside check in and directed right to their gate to board the plane to New York.

Hunter held out his hand to Bree after they were situated in their seats. “We’re on the home stretch now.”

The plane started to roll, taxiing out to the appropriate runway. The captain announced they had clearance for takeoff and the plane started moving faster. When Bree squeezed Hunter’s hand, he looked over at her. She was breathing heavy and had her eyes closed.

“Honey, take off is the worst part. Just hold my hand, it’ll be okay.”

Chapter 8

Several hours and a plane change later, an exhausted Hunter and Bree arrived at the long-term parking lot at LaGuardia Airport. As luck would have it, the mini-bus dropped them off at the exact row he’d parked his car in. Giving the keys to Bree, he trudged ahead pulling both suitcases and he threw them in the back end before they jumped in his SUV.

“How about you type your address into my GPS and we can head that way.”

“This is a pretty fancy vehicle you have here. Makes mine look like the pinto in Cujo.”

“Oh, man I loved that movie.”

“I was thinking…” but her thoughts trailed off quietly.

“’Bout what?”

She so wanted to ask him to come to her house for the rest of the week but she was afraid and he probably needed to get back to work anyway.

“Maybe next week we can get together for lunch. I’m supposed to have a light schedule at work with a few days off midweek.”

“That would be great. Any chance you’ll be near the north side of the city then?”

“I definitely can be. I’ll pick you up for lunch.”

“It’s a date.”

The rest of the drive was done in eerie silence, both lost in their own thoughts. All too soon the female GPS voice announced they had reached their destination. Hunter pulled into the circle in front of the hospital.

“That didn’t take as long as I thought it would. I can take you to your car if you want.”

“No this is okay. My car is in the gated employee parking lot. I’ll have to walk anyway.”

Hunter nodded and pulled up a little further so they weren’t in front of the double set of doors, popped the trunk and climbed out of the car. After he set her suitcase on the sidewalk and shut the trunk, he went to the passenger door where she still sat inside the car. He tapped on the window and she looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. He opened the door and pulled her out of the car, right into his arms.

“Honey please don’t cry, we are going to work this out, I promise you. Let me know when you make it home and we can talk more then.”

She had an odd feeling that he was trying to hurry her off. She didn’t understand why, after the last few wonderful days they’d spent together. She knew the cold shoulder when it was being thrown her way.

Surprisingly enough, he kissed her several times before he hurried back to his car and waved as he drove off.

“Men are such liars.”

Bree took the longest route home via Sleepy Hollow Road and pulled up to a dark townhouse.

“Home sweet home. Seems like I just left.”

Bree dropped her bags inside the front door, slid her keys into the crystal bowl on the entry table and flopped down on the couch. She should call Hunter and let him know she made it home. Not that it was a long drive but he didn’t know that. It wouldn’t have been much more out of his way to come here with her but he was acting weird and she got scared. Maybe she would call Stacy instead.

When she’d found her phone in the bottom of her purse and powered it on, she had 4 unread voice messages and about a dozen missed calls.

“Geez, at least someone wants to talk to me.”

As she scrolled through the call history, she noticed a strange New York number and several California ones. She hit redial on the most recent Los Angeles area code.

“Oh my god Bree, what in the world? I have called you so many times, what is going on?”

“Hi to you too.”

“I’m sorry sweetie, hi! How are you?”

Stacy’s question was met with silence. Bree was shaking and couldn’t get herself composed as the tears yet again ran down her face.

“Bree, are you there? Are you crying, oh my gosh what happened?”

After a few sniffles, she cleared her throat. “I’m here, sorry. And by here, I mean I’m sitting in my living room.”

“What? Why?”

“The resort on the island sent us home early because there was a hurricane heading their way.”

“No, they didn’t? Are you okay? Where’s Hunter?”

“Not here.” As sad as it sounded, Bree couldn’t help it and started crying full-fledged crocodile tears. “Stacy, I really don’t think I’ll ever see him again.”

“Awe now I don’t believe that. It sounded like he was crazy about you.”

“Yeah that’s what I though too but once we were back here and he drove me to the hospital to get my car, he couldn’t get me out of his SUV fast enough. He kissed me a few times then got back in his car and waved as he pulled away.”

“That’s it? No I love you and I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“He told me to let him know when I made it home tonight. He also didn’t know I lived like three miles from the hospital so he’s probably not expecting to hear from me just yet. I did ask him if we could meet for lunch next week and he said yes but I’m not feeling too confident about that.”

“Bree, just give it the benefit of the doubt at least until next week. If you guys meet for lunch, talk to him about it and tell him your concerns.”

“I was just going to text him.”

“No, promise me you won’t do that, it’s so impersonal and things can be taken in the wrong context that way. Just wait til your lunch, promise me.”

“Okay fine. I think I’m just going to bed now though. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Will you call me tomorrow and check in? If you don’t you know I’ll hound you.”

“Yes, I’ll call you, promise.”

The line was disconnected and Bree threw her phone on the coffee table. She rolled off the couch and crawled to her luggage, grabbed the handle and pulled it to her bedroom where she threw it in the corner on her reading chair. She closed the blinds on the windows, pulled the covers back and crawled in. Covering her head, she shut out the world until she woke again tomorrow.

Hunter had no idea driving away after leaving Bree on the sidewalk at the hospital would be so hard. He’d wanted to ask her if he could come back to her house and spend a little more time with her but she’d been acting skittish since they arrived in New York and he was afraid to push her.

He had an ache in his chest that got worse the longer he was away from her. He loved her, he knew he did.

“Dumbass, why didn’t you just tell her? What did you have to lose?”

If she didn’t love him back, he’d have to live with it. They were far enough apart and hadn’t seen each other up to this point in their lives so they probably wouldn’t have to see each other again. He wouldn’t be able to look at her the same way again knowing she didn’t love him back. That would be the lowest blow possible.

“I should call her. She needs to know how I feel. She’ll think I’m an idiot, it’s only been a few days. No one falls in love that fast.”

At least no one he ever knew. Lucas was a bad example because he didn’t know what the word meant and none of his other friends even had girlfriends so he had no reference point to work from. If it was earlier, he could call his dad. He’d been in love with Hunter’s mom since high school, he probably didn’t even remember how it happened in the first place.

Hunter dug out his iPhone and talked to Siri, asking him to call Bree. The phone rang one time and went straight to voicemail. He picked up the cell and talked into the speaker, telling her that he wished he’d been able to spend more time with her and that he missed her already. He also told her she would think him nuts because it’d only been a few days but he loved her. Before he could say more, the voicemail beeped and cut him off.

“Shit. Hope she gets all that.”

An hour and a few minutes later Hunter pulled up to his old broken apartment building, parking in the numbered slot that belonged to him. He shut the car off and sat staring into space for a while until he got the gumption to go inside alone. It wasn’t the same without her. Even when they weren’t talking, just knowing she was there was comforting. Once inside his apartment, he locked the door and flipped on the small dining room light and sat his bag down.

“Hey buddy.”

“Holy shit, what the hell are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“This is my apartment, not yours so you do the explaining. How did you get in?”

“You gave me a key.”

“No, I didn’t.” He did not give Luke a key, not at any point so how did he get in.

“It was the doorman wasn’t it. Damn it, I need to report that guy.”

“Wait, why are you home? You aren’t supposed to fly back until Saturday.”

“Yeah about that. Hurricane. They shipped everyone home. Why do you care? Were you going to have a party in my apartment? This is why I did not give you a key.”

“So, where’s this new woman you met?”

“Not here, that’s for sure.”

“What does that mean?”

“Luke, I’m not really in the mood tonight. If you’re staying, shut the lights off but I’m going to bed.”

Hunter barely understood everything himself and he sure didn’t want to pour his heart out to his untrustworthy best friend. He just wanted to crawl in bed and sleep. Then in the morning he would get up like it was a usual day and go to work. If he got there before his secretary he might not have to explain anything to her either.

In his bedroom with the door shut, he unpacked his clothes, one by one putting them in the laundry basket in the corner of his room, when he ran across a t-shirt that wasn’t his.

“Oh man.” He buried his nose in the coral colored shirt that smelled like her. Made him feel like she was right there beside him. He took several deep breaths then folded the shirt and laid it on the pillow next to his. After he took a quick shower, he crawled in bed naked and with her scent right there beside him, drifted off easily, dreaming of her.

Chapter 9

Days went by without a call or text on Bree’s phone from Hunter. She’d not been able to stay in her house alone any longer so she went to work to get her mind off things. After a few more days, things just went along as usual but she wasn’t the same by any means. She felt broken inside. Angry. She’d let her guard down and let him in. Exactly what she thought would happen, happened. She hated herself for expecting things to be different than usual.

She ended up working the days she was supposed to have off in the middle of the week. There was no reason not to work. She didn’t like sitting at home anymore. Things were too quiet. Her bed was too big. She’d fallen in love with a man that didn’t want her around.

“Dr. Watkins, we need you in here stat.”

Bree had been hearing that specific statement the entire day. What was it with people tonight? Was there a big sign outside telling everyone there was a party in the ER? After eleven hours on shift, she was wishing she’d kept the day off instead. Thank god, she could sleep in tomorrow.

“Hey Bree, radiology is holding for you on line one.” Oh, she needed to take that. Poor Mrs. Baker has been waiting quite a while for the results of her MRI. They must be busy upstairs too. After making some noes on Mrs. Bakers chart, she headed to her room.

“Bree, Dr. Watkins, you have someone here to see you.”

“Not like that’s anything new. I’ll be there as soon as I can, I have a few stops first.”

“It’s really important though, can you come here first?”

“Rhonda, Mrs. Baker has been in that cubicle for two and a half hours waiting on the results of her MRI, I think she comes first.”

She turned to walk away and heard Rhonda running up behind her. She stopped outside of the cubicle and waited a second.

“Are you kidding me right now? What is so important that I can’t even give this poor old woman her x-ray results?”

“I’m sorry Bree, but this guy won’t give up. He insists he needs to speak with you right away and it’s important.”

“Do you know who he is? Did he give a name?”

“No, he won’t but he is cute.”

“Well too bad, if he can’t even give you his name, he can just wait until I’m ready to see him. He’s not hurt, is he?”

“I don’t think so, he never mentioned it. I’d be glad to give him a once over just to be sure though. He only said that he desperately needed to speak with you.”

“Keep him busy, I’ll be back down that way when I can. Everyone wants me everywhere tonight. I’m losing my mind I tell ya. Is Dr. Campbell due in anytime soon? I could use a few more ands.”

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. I don’t know if Dr. Campbell is on schedule but I can check for you.”

“Just page me when you know.”

Finally, Bree had finished with the east end of the hall. Mrs. Baker was satisfied with her results and her husband took her home. She’d taken care of the guy in cubicle one with a set of stitches to cover the hole in his thumb created by a fish hook. She even changed a bed pan for the elderly gentleman in cubicle five with the pneumonia diagnosis. Poor man was waiting patiently to be moved upstairs to his own room.

Quitting time couldn’t come quick enough.

Hunter waited all night for Bree to answer his voicemail but he never heard back from her. He was afraid to take that as a sign that things had gone sour. He wouldn’t let himself believe it. He felt the same things she did on that island and it was real. Now he had to make her see it too.

Just one problem. He’d dropped his phone the day after he got back and shattered it. The one time he didn’t have his life proof case on and he had to be clumsy. Apparently, the backup failed so he lost all his contacts and he couldn’t remember her number. He didn’t even know her address but the good thing was he did know where she worked.

She’d asked him to have lunch in the middle of the week and who knows, she may have tried to touch base but he wouldn’t recognize the number and she never left a message. He knew she was supposed to have a few days off so he called each morning until he found her there. He didn’t want to show up when she wasn’t around because they wouldn’t give him her address, it was against hospital policy. He’d already tried that once.

Now he was standing in a small nurse’s office of a packed Emergency Room with people running in every direction. He’d seen more blood in ten minutes than he cared to see the rest of his life. How she worked here was a mystery to him.

Nurse Rhonda wasn’t very happy that he’d been adamant about seeing her as soon as possible. He’d begged her not to tell Bree any details because it would probably give him away and he didn’t want her to run.

His heart began to race when he heard her voice come near. Rhonda peeked around the corner to him and gave him thumbs up which meant it was time to make his appearance. He picked up the crystal vase full of roses from the desk and carefully made his way through the doorway. When she saw him, her face went pale.

“Hi Bree.”

He waited for her to respond but she could only stare. She made some hand gestures including running her fingers through the pony tail on the back of her head. It was cute, he liked that look.

“I know you’re probably surprised to see me here but I needed to talk to you. When you never called me back, I decided to take matters into my own hands.” He moved the flowers to sit on top of the counter at the nurse’s station. She glanced toward them, her features softening but then changing right back when she turned to him again.

“What do you mean call you back. I never got a phone call from you.”

“I called you not even five minutes after I dropped you off at the hospital that night. I even left a voice mail.”

He saw her features change when recognition it. She walked closer to him, her hands stuffed in the lab coat pockets.

“I think I may have erased it. Stacy left me about five messages and I didn’t want to go through them all so I just hit delete. I didn’t know you left me one, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you try calling me back?”

“It was late when I got home and the next day I couldn’t. I shattered my phone, had to get a new one.” He lifted an iPhone like his other, only a different color. “They told me the backup to my iCloud didn’t work so I lost all my contacts. I’ve been scrambling ever since to get things reprogrammed but other than coming here, I didn’t know how to reach you.”

“The flowers are beautiful.” She leaned in and smelled the red petals.

“They don’t come close to your beauty. I missed you Bree.”

She lowered her head, a sure sign she was trying not to cry. That’s the reaction he’d been looking for. He moved closer to her and lifted her chin with his finger. Then he wiped her tears away.

“I never meant to make you cry. Bree, I’m in love with you and I want you in my life. I know, it’s only been like a week but I knew it when I saw you sitting in that chaise lounge, I knew that I needed you.”

“Are you sure we can do this?”

“I have no doubt, I never did.”

“I love you too, and I fought it tooth and nail. But, when I went home alone, nothing was the same. You weren’t there and I missed you. You give me peace of mind and comfort that I’ve never experienced before.”

Hunter placed his hands on her cheeks and brought her to him. When he kissed her, everyone in the ER started cheering.

Epilogue

One Year Later

Hunter and Bree stood on the beach looking out over the boat dock at the Grand Cayman Resort. They had taken their free all-inclusive return trip and turned it into a destination wedding.

“You aren’t walking on that pier so don’t even think about it. I don’t have a first aid kit and I’d rather not have any blood on my dress.”

“Very funny Mrs. DuVall. I had no intention of going out there. Me and those boards don’t really see eye to eye.”

“Well you did once.” Bree laughed out loud and ran a few feet away from Hunter.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Yeah it was, it was really funny.”

“Hey, you two, the photographer wants to get pictures then it’s time to cut your cake.”

“Thanks Stacy, we’ll be there in a minute.”

Hunter put his arms around his bride and they walked a little way down the beach.

“Thank you for not giving up on me.”

“I just knew what I wanted.” Hunter shrugged his shoulders, winked at his wife and kissed her on the cheek.

“You need to give yourself some credit too, I saw how much you struggled with us having go separate ways. We just deal with things a little bit differently is all.”

“You’re always so confident and sure of yourself. I admire you so much because I really struggle with that.”

“Well trust me, I wasn’t always like that. That night I had to leave you standing on the sidewalk was the hardest thing I ever had to do and from that moment, I knew I needed to do whatever it took to get you back with me.”

She squeezed his arms around his waist.

“Enough with the mushy stuff. What do you say Mrs. DuVall, are you ready to start the next chapter of our lives?”

“Mr. DuVall, I would follow you anywhere.”

“Alright then woman, let’s go make some waves.”

About the Author

Krista Ames was born and raised in Indiana. She now resides in

Northern Michigan with the love of her life and their 4 children. She is a full time stay-at-home mom and pursues her writing career

when she's not chasing kids, cooking or doing laundry. Krista can be found at www.apassionforromance.blogspot.com and would love to hear from you any time via krista@kristaames.com

She frequents:

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kristaamesauthor and

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Starry Nights

JB Duvane

Sometimes even being a movie star can't buy you a second chance with the girl you still hunger for.

But true love can...

Shane

My life as a movie star has been great, don't get me wrong. But after a while it started to feel so empty.

I don't know who I can trust. I don't know if people want the movie star persona or if they're interested in the real me.

I'm tired of the meaningless sex and the fake women. I'm ready for someone who's real.

Someone like Maggie... my Maggie.

It's been ten years, but when I looked into her eyes, I swear could still feel her in my arms like it was yesterday.

When I saw her, I panicked. I retreated into 'movie star Shane.'

It's become this habit I can't shake after so many years.

Now we're on opposite sides of this land deal, and it's like she actually thinks I don't love the island as much as she does.

And she thinks I don't care about her.

But she's wrong.

Maggie

So, the big movie star's come back to his home town. No doubt to impress everyone with his good looks and money.

He actually has the nerve to try and buy up protected land on our island for his own use...and for profit.

Typical, selfish movie star behavior. Somehow I expected more though.

And then, he acted like he didn't even remember what happened between us.

I guess I really was just one in a long line of faceless girls to him.

But I'll never forget the way his lips tasted or the way his body felt when it was pressed against mine.

And now I have to pretend that I don't remember either, otherwise it's hurts too much.

Shouldn't be too hard, because on all accounts, he's turned into just another cocky bastard.

And if he thinks he's going to buy up our island, he's going to see how little all of his movie star charm gets him.

At least that's what my head is saying…

I'm trying really hard to listen to my head right now, because that million-watt smile of his is tearing me up inside.

Chapter 1

Maggie

"I don't know what I'm gonna do. I don't feel like I'm going anywhere in this job and the bottom line is it's not any fun. At all. I mean, how much fun can HR be."

"Well, at least you have your own office," Janine said as she stabbed a chunk of chicken out of her Cobb salad. I'd known Janine for about five years. She was my best friend, one of my only friends on the island, really. So many people that came here only stayed for a month at the longest, then were gone before I could really get to know them. I loved living on Kauai, but it could get kinda lonely at times.

"Yeah, but I want my life to be fun, Janine. Do you have fun at your job?"

"I wouldn't exactly call real estate and trust law fun, but I do enjoy it. But what does it matter if your job isn't the height of excitement? You have the rest of your days to make up for any lack of fun, don't you?"

"That's what I've always thought, but I want more. Living on this island is amazing, I'd never give it up for a more exciting job, but I'm really feeling like I need some kind of change."

"What you need is to find a man."

"Yeah, that's another thing there's a shortage of here on Kauai."

"When was the last time you went out on a date, Maggie? It seems like it's been years."

I sat there for a second and stared down at my plate.

"Sorry," Janine said. "I didn't mean to make it sound so bad, I just meant—"

"Shhh." I held my hand up so Janine would stop talking, then after a few moments looked up at her. "The people at the next table were just talking about that whole thing where the government is allowing some of the public land to be sold off. They were talking about something right around here and I was trying to hear them." I listened for a minute longer. "Sounds like they're talking about Game of Thrones now."

"Well, I can tell you about some public land that's in the process of being sold right around here, and I can tell you exactly who's buying it."

Janine paused for a moment, acting like it was some big secret.

"Well? Are you going to tell me?" I said with my head lowered. "I feel like we're swapping government secrets!"

"We kind of are, Maggie. I'm really not supposed to be talking about this. For a variety of reasons. Okay, I'll tell you, but you have to promise not to say anything to anyone. I could lose my job."

"Well, who would I tell?"

"Okay, so you know that big forested area up north on the west side of the island—the part with all the sandy beaches and inlets and hiking trails that go through the forest? You know, with that cove you took me to."

"Yeah, I grew up on this island, remember? I know pretty much every mile of that area. Don't tell me part of that forest is being sold off for development."

"Yeah, including the part with that cove. They're planning on building right on that beach, I guess because it's got a lot of level beachfront access. It's some pretty prime real estate."

I was in shock. That was one of the most beautiful places on Kauai. It was a place my family would go to for almost every weekend and holiday. For us, spending Sundays there was like going to church.

"But that's protected land. They can't do that!"

"Yes, they can. A lot of national forest and monument land is up for grabs to the highest bidder now. My law firm is handling the whole thing. I'm not supposed to talk about the deal at all. It's completely closed. No one is even supposed to know about it. I imagine partly because of all the public outrage revolving around the land being sold, but also because this buyer swooped in even before it officially went up for sale—"

"Damn right the public would be outraged! They should be. I don't understand how they can do that! How they can sell land that has belonged to everyone for … well … forever. It shouldn't be up to one president to ruin all that for millions of people."

"It's the current administration, Maggie. They don't care about the land or the people. They just care about getting more money to big business—the ones who actually need it least. It's nauseating."

I sat there in stunned silence. I couldn't believe they were going to take my family's special place away. The place where we scattered my grandmother's ashes and buried my cat.

"But that land doesn't belong to anyone, Janine. It's not fair. I have so many memories there, my grandma and Scruffs are there …"

"I know, sweetie. I remember going with you to bury Scruffs after she died."

My eyes filled with tears as Janine reached across the table and put her hand over mine. I glanced sheepishly around the room and was suddenly incredibly self conscious about having this conversation in a room full of strangers. "I just can't believe they're going to sell that land," I said to my empty plate.

"Just wait until you hear who is buying it, Mags. You won't believe it."

"Who?" I asked, finally stopping the tears from falling down my cheeks so I could make an attempt at holding myself together, at least until I got to my car.

"Shane Holloway. You know, the actor. He was in all those action movies—"

"I know who he is, Janine," I said, cutting her off. "He grew up on this island too. We went to school together, for like, our whole lives. Or until we were eighteen, anyway."

"Oh my God, I had no idea, Maggie! You're so lucky. He is just about the most gorgeous man on the planet. So you were friends with him or something?"

I paused for a moment, not really wanting to talk about him, especially if he was the one who was buying the land. "Sort of. Everyone knew everyone at school. Our class was really small. He was in the same group of friends as I was, and we spent some time together right before he left."

"Left where?"

"He moved to LA after high school graduation. He had been offered a role in a movie. Not a starring role, but one that would get him noticed. It was an incredible opportunity for him, so he took it."

"Was he scouted here on the island or something?"

"No, he was visiting an uncle in LA the summer between junior and senior year and some talent agent spotted him at an outdoor restaurant and gave him his card. Things just snowballed from there."

"That's not surprising at all. He is one fine man. Those eyes, and that smile. He practically lights up the screen no matter what movie he's in."

I was kind of surprised to hear Janine talk like that. I'd never heard her fawn over anyone before. "Yeah, a lot of agencies were interested in him the minute he was discovered. He wound up flying back and forth to LA a lot his senior year—missed a lot of school. They almost didn't let him graduate."

"Wow, so you seem to know a lot about him."

"Like I said, Janine, everyone knew everyone back then—and everyone's business. This is a small island."

"Well, I guess he sure knows someone who knows someone now, because he's in on a deal that was absolutely not offered to the public. Not when he got in on it, anyway. He must have gotten in through a back door somehow."

"What do you mean? Is it an illegal deal or something?"

"No, nothing like that. But whoever set the deal up had to have known people in the right places, that's for sure. Plus has the money to back the whole thing. That land is worth millions and a lot of people are very interested in it. I bet there are a lot of vultures waiting around on the sidelines, hoping that this deal falls through. If it does they'll have a bidding war over it, that's for sure. He might even be buying it so he can start the bidding on it himself."

"I can't believe it's Shane Holloway you're talking about. He used to be a really sweet, shy guy. I can't believe he would be trying to turn a profit like that, and on that particular piece of land."

"He must have an awful lot of money socked away in order to buy it. I guess people pay a lot to watch a handsome man blow a bunch of bad guys away. And you know what they say about fame going to people's heads."

"Yeah, but it can't be like that for every person who becomes famous. Isn't it possible that some don't change? Especially to the point where they become practically unrecognizable."

"Are you sure there's something you're not telling me, Maggie?"

"What? No." I shook my head like I was trying to shake off a bad dream. I was having a hard time picturing the Shane Holloway I knew as a big wheeler dealer. It made my skin crawl to think of him that way. Plus, it made me sad to think that he didn't remember how important that land was. To me and everyone who was native to this island. "Seriously, Janine, I'm just surprised, is all. I haven't paid much attention to the entertainment world in a long time and hearing about him being involved in all of this just caught me off guard."

"Okay, well, don't let it get you too down. You never know what's going to happen. I have to get back to the office. I have back to back meetings all afternoon." I tried to grab the metal tray with the receipt from the center of the table, but Janine beat me to it. "I'm getting lunch today, sweetie."

"Okay, but I've got the next one."

"Sounds good," she said as the waitress came and took the card up to the register.

After the bill was taken care of, I got up and took a few steps toward the entrance, then stopped dead in my tracks. There he was. Shane Holloway, standing there with some tall, blonde woman who looked like she'd just stepped out of a vogue shoot. I felt someone jerk my arm to the side and when I turned Janine's voice filled my ear. "Oh my God, Maggie. That's him! Shane Holloway is up at the hostess station!"

"I can see him, Janine! Will you please calm down!" I whispered with as much emphasis as I could. "And let go of my arm!" I tugged my arm away from her grasp so that we didn't look like a couple of giddy schoolgirls huddled together, all starry-eyed in front of the big celebrity. But I pulled away harder than I realized and somehow lost my balance. In order to catch myself from falling flat on my face, I reached out to the counter where one of the waitresses was entering in a ticket. My hand came down hard on the front counter and hit a stack of metal credit card trays, and of course they all came crashing down onto the tile floor in front of me. The sound was almost deafening. I just stood there and stared at about twenty metal trays as they bounced and scattered across the floor for what felt like forever.

When I finally looked up the entire restaurant, including Shane and his blonde friend, were staring right at me.

"I'm so sorry," I said to the waitress behind the register. I put my hands on my face, but I was pretty sure that did absolutely nothing to disguise how red it was. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, ma'am. Not a problem at all," the waitress said as she came around the counter, bending down to scoop up the trays as quickly as possible.

"Please, let me help you," I crouched down to help her, but also so that I didn't have to look Shane Holloway in the eyes again. I hoped by the time I stood back up he and his blonde girlfriend would be gone.

"That's not necessary. You can go ahead and leave. I'll clean the trays up."

"But, I'm so embarrassed."

"Really, it's okay," she said with a smile. It was a kind and genuine smile and I really wanted it to make me feel better, but I knew—I could literally feel—that Shane Holloway was still staring at me. I wished the girl would let me help her pick up the rest of those damned trays because otherwise I had absolutely no reason to continue staring at the floor the way I was. And I wanted—more than anything in the world—to continue staring at the floor for as long as humanly possible. But I knew if I didn't stand up within a few seconds I would look like an even bigger idiot.

I stood slowly, my eyes inching their way up to knee level. I could see the shapely legs of the blonde woman and the expensive trousers that Shane had on. Once I was standing up straight next to Janine again, I tried to keep moving my eyes up, but I couldn't get them to go any higher than Shane's chest.

I focused on the pearly buttons that trailed up the white fabric, took a deep breath and let it out, then forced myself to look him in the eyes.

There they were, those incredibly dark eyes that I remembered so well. I couldn't breathe for a moment. I felt like I had been transported back in time to the day those eyes melted my insides and were burned into my brain forever. In my dreams and fantasies that I'd had pretty much every day since he moved away ten years ago, his eyes seemed to go on forever, making me feel like I could disappear into them. Disappear into him. In all these years I hadn't forgotten how incredible they were, and while I stood there and looked at him, I felt like I was falling again. Falling into those incredible eyes.

Looking at them now, though, there was something different in them. They weren't as open and filled with light like they had been when we were both eighteen. The excitement about his acting career lit his whole face up back then, but now that light seemed to be a bit faded. Shane was smiling at me, but the smile on his lips didn't quite seem to reach his eyes.

"Maggie," he said with a pleasant but not particularly warm tone. Shane's deep voice resonated inside me, though, pulling me even closer to him. I moved forward, not sure if it would be appropriate to give him a hug, but my question was answered when his hand moved in between us. When I extended mine he at least grabbed it with both of his, which felt infinitely more intimate than if he had given me a business handshake. But still, it made my heart ache that Shane shook my hand after all this time.

"It's nice to see you."

Nice to see me? I thought, trying not to show my disappointment. He seemed so formal, so controlled. Not like the Shane I remembered at all.

"It's … nice to see you back here too, Shane. Are you shooting a movie on the island?" Ugh. I hated the way that came out of my mouth. This whole conversation felt so uncomfortable and … fake. I just wanted to get the hell out of that restaurant.

"No, I've moved back to the island. I'm in the middle of a real estate deal on some property here. It should be closing soon."

"Hi," Janine said, extending her hand to Shane. "I'm Janine Granger. I'm a friend of Maggie's."

"Oh God, I don't know where my head is today. Shane, this is Janine. Janine … Shane. I think I told you, Janine, that Shane and I went to school together?" I flashed my eyes at Janine hoping she'd just play along with my lame attempt at acting cool.

"Yes, I think you mentioned it." Janine had somehow managed to get her thirteen-year-old girl under control during this short but torturous meeting.

"Nice to meet you, Janine." Shane turned to the blonde and introduced her to both of us. "This is Brittany, my girlfriend."

The blonde model with the pop star name slipped her slender, limp hand into mine for a split second, then into Janine's. "Nice to meet you," She said without any sincerity whatsoever. I disliked her immediately.

"It's nice to meet you, Brittany. Welcome to Kauai," I said with all the gumption I could muster.

"I think they're ready to seat us," the model said as she put her hand on Shane's lower back, then gave me an impatient glance.

"Oh, yeah, go ahead and sit down, have your lunch. Janine and I need to get back to work. We should catch up sometime, Shane." I just about cringed visibly when those words tumbled out of my mouth. I didn't want to sound like some groupie so I made the moment even more painful by sounding like an insecure teenager. "But I'm sure you're really busy with your land deal and everything."

"No, I mean, yes. That would be great. I'd like that, Maggie." There was that controlled tone again, the one that said That's probably not going to happen so don't get your hopes up. I didn't even bother with the charade of giving him my number. I just turned and went out the door.

Chapter 2

Shane

"Sir?"

I looked across the table at Brittany and then up at the waiter who was standing next to my chair, both of whom were staring right at me. "Oh, sorry. I'll have the eight ounce tenderloin."

"How would you like that done, sir?"

"Rare, please."

"Very good, I'll be back with your drinks."

"Thanks … thank you very much," I stammered as I handed the waiter my menu. I felt like a rug had been pulled out from underneath me. Seeing Maggie after all this time had left me completely flustered. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't wondered if she was still living on the island. This was her home and had been her family's home for generations. I knew exactly how important this island was to her. I just hadn't planned on seeing her so soon.

I'd thought I'd look her up after the deal went through and I got settled in. I'd pictured it more than once, actually. Taking her out to lunch, then maybe down to the cove where we could watch the sunset and see the night sky fill with stars. But all of that was ridiculous. Especially since Brittany was here with me now.

"Are you okay?" Brittany asked after taking a sip of her lemon water. "You seem strange."

"I'm fine. I think I'm just really hungry. It's getting kind of late."

"Yeah, I wasn't expecting all those people to keep stopping you. I guess they don't just gawk here, like in LA. They actually want you to stop and talk to them," she said as she glanced around the restaurant.

"Well, I know some of these people. They haven't seen me for years and they're curious."

"Just be careful, Shane. You're too trusting. I know people, and they all want something. Especially from the movie star who's come back home. From what I've seen so far, you're the most exciting thing that has happened on this island in a decade."

"They're nice people, Brittany."

"They can't all be nice."

"Well, maybe not, but …" I was going to say something else, but I let myself drift off. I couldn't get my mind off Maggie, and how amazing it was to see her. She looked spectacular. Her dazzling blue eyes set off by beautiful olive skin just about shut my brain down completely. I was surprised I got a single intelligible word out from the moment I saw her. And I didn't know if I was imagining it, but when she looked up at me I could have sworn that she was blushing.

I wanted to say so much more to her, but my stupid Shane Holloway public persona took over and I practically became a used car salesman. At least that's what I always sound like to myself. My manager says it's fine, that it helps with the public's perception of me. It keeps me at a distance and doesn't reveal anything too personal. But it isn't me at all, that act I put on. It's just something that I've learned to do ever since I got to Hollywood—a trick that helps me get through it all.

I played that moment over in my head, when Maggie's eyes slowly moved up my chest. Those thick lashes slowly rising up until her eyes finally met mine. Then that sweet look that flashed across them when she smiled.

"Is it? Shane? Hello?"

I was jolted out of my daydream with Brittany snapping her red nailed fingers in front of my face. "Sorry, babe. What did you say?"

"I asked how your steak is. I think I'm going to send mine back. It tastes like they ran down the street and bought it at the supermarket."

"Sure, do whatever you want."

"Jeeze, Shane, where are you? You've been on another planet ever since we landed."

"I don't know. Maybe it was the flight. I'm pretty beat."

"So, are you saying that this is it for tonight?"

"What do you mean? Did you want to do something else?"

"Well, I thought you were going to show me around. Take me out on the town. There is more to the town than this, isn't there?"

"Yeah … yeah, I mean, I'm sure there's a lot more since the last time I lived here. But maybe we can do that tomorrow. Explore a little … find a nice quiet coffee shop."

"Coffee shop? I was thinking something a little more … adult. Like a club?"

I looked at Brittany like she was speaking another language. Standing around in a club and trying to have a conversation over blaring music was just about the last thing I wanted in my life. I'd left LA to get away from all of that. I thought she understood. I thought she wanted the same thing.

"Why don't we talk about this later. After we get back to the house. I'm really beat."

"Okay." Brittany smiled, but it didn't seem very genuine. She had actually been pretty unhappy with just about everything since we landed. I was starting to get the feeling I shouldn't have agreed to have her move here with me. I didn't want to think that way so soon after arriving, especially since I was really wiped out from all the excitement, but she really seemed like a different person ever since we landed.

Back in LA, the very first time I mentioned the possibility of buying some property and moving back here, she was convinced that it would be the best thing for our relationship. We would both be able to settle down and relax, as she put it. I explained that it would all take a while—the real estate deal and building a house—but none of that seemed to concern her a bit.

Just before we left LA I was lucky enough to rent a gorgeous house that sat on the edge of a cliff and overlooked the land I was in the process of purchasing. From the images I saw online, it had full glass walls with a gorgeous view of the ocean as well as the thick forest and beaches on all three sides.

I told Brittany that we would probably be living there for a while. I still wasn't one-hundred-percent sure what I was going to do with the land. My dream was to build a house for myself and my family. I wanted to bring them back to the island where I grew up. I knew they loved it here and I wanted to provide my parents with a paradise where they could both retire and live out the rest of their lives.

I planned on hiring the right people for the job, though. I didn't want to disturb the land too much. I wanted every part of the process and everything that was done to the land to blend in with the surrounding area. I wanted it to stay as perfect as I remembered it—back in high school when I went there with Maggie.

It was such a strange coincidence, seeing her almost first thing when I got back to the island.

"I can't believe they haven't come back here to check if we need anything. I'm not even going to bother sending the steak back now. It's been almost fifteen minutes. Don't they know who you are?"

"What? What's that supposed to mean? I don't expect special treatment because of who I am. That's silly, Brittany."

"I don't think the waiter checking to see if we need anything, like another drink, is considered special treatment, but maybe it is on this special island."

"Come on, Brittany, just let it go. It's busy here, and I want to get back to the house and relax."

I motioned to the waiter for the check and he brought it right away.

"I hope everything was to your liking."

"Well, the steak wasn't exactly what I was expecting and we could have used more drinks, but—"

"Everything was fine, thank you."

I dropped my credit card on the tray and the waiter glanced at Brittany. "Is there anything else I can get for you, ma'am?"

"Not now. Thanks." I watched that smug, glued-on smile on Brittany's face fade as the waiter walked off. Her eyes met mine and she gave me a "what the fuck" look. "It's his job, Shane. He's supposed to take care of us. That's what he gets paid to do. Besides, I can't believe he called me ma'am."

"You don't have to be so nasty about it."

"You think that was nasty?"

"Never mind. Let's just go."

I signed the slip and put my card in my wallet, then stood and waited for Brittany to walk in front of me before leaving. I suddenly didn't want to look at her face anymore. If this was what she was like when she was tired or stressed out, all I could do was hope that being on this island would relax her like she said it would.

Chapter 3

Maggie

"What was that? You didn't even give him your number, Maggie."

I was walking ahead of Janine, who was having a hard time keeping up with me in her heels. I just wanted to get as far away from that restaurant as possible. I felt humiliated and sad and when I thought about my stupid fantasies I'd had of running into Shane again, and how different the reality was when it actually happened, I felt an overwhelming, full-bodied sense of embarrassment.

"He doesn't want my number, Janine. He just said that to be polite."

"How do you know that? He seemed happy to see you. He does seem like a nice guy. And holy shit is he hot in person. That giant screen doesn't do those eyes of his justice."

I was becoming even more embarrassed by the second as Janine went on about how I should have given him my number and how nice he was. Partly because she didn't know him like I did. But mostly because it was clear to me that the Shane Holloway I'd been in love with all these years was in my head. Shane was nice, but he didn't look at me and talk to me like I remembered. He didn't look at me the way he does every night when I lay in bed thinking about him. I was embarrassed because I realized that I'd wasted ten years of my life thinking I was in love with someone who doesn't even exist.

"I don't want to talk right now, Janine. I just …" I stopped talking because I felt like if I continued I'd start crying and that made me feel sillier than anything I'd done in the last fifteen minutes. "I gotta get back to work."

"Okay, well, what are you doing tonight? It's Friday night. Do you want to go out for dinner and maybe a drink after work? It might help you get your mind off of—"

"I don't need to get my mind off anything," I snapped. "Sorry, Janine. I didn't mean that the way it came out. I think I just want to be alone tonight. Maybe tomorrow."

"You don't have to apologize. You're way too hard on yourself sometimes, Mags. Why don't we head over to the farmer's market in the morning, around ten-ish?"

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'll call you in the morning."

"Okay, sweetie. I'll see you tomorrow."

After I got off work that night, I drove down the long, unpaved road that led to what I always called my secret cove. It was my favorite place on the island—had been all my life—and especially since that night with Shane. It was right before he was set to leave. We'd hung out before, and enjoyed each other's company, but that was always with a few other friends around. But this particular night he asked me to come down to the cove alone—just me and him. I'd had a crush on him since we were in grade school, but even back then I always figured he was way out of my league.

There was something about him. He was good looking for sure—with his big brown eyes and amazing smile—but he also had a certain something that drew people to him. He was bright and charming and incredibly kind, even as a teenager. It was easy to see why the agencies in Hollywood practically fought over him, offering all kinds of perks if he would go with them. As soon as anyone met Shane they immediately fell in love with him.

I couldn't help but wonder how much he'd changed—how much of an effect having his life on display for the public had on him. I wondered if that incredibly sweet guy with the sparkling eyes I knew even existed anymore.

That was ten years ago, when he brought me down here, and ten years is a long time. Probably way too long to remember a kiss you gave some random school girl. But that kiss … it was … perfect. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever experienced, before or since then, and I never forgot a single moment of it. The way he looked into my eyes and held my face. It seemed like it went on forever—that feeling of excitement that built up like a geyser inside me—until his lips finally lowered, touching and dissolving into mine and making me feel like we were attached somehow. That we were part of each other. How could he forget that?

I'd played that moment over in my head so many times now, it seemed like the memory itself was alive in every fiber of my being. That it actually existed in the air that surrounded me and the stars that filled the sky. The way his lips felt when they first touched mine, so soft and warm, but then pressed into mine with a fierce passion that took my breath away. When I closed my eyes I could actually feel it. The way his hands gripped my body, hard and with just enough force to make me feel like he knew what he wanted. And what he wanted was me.

All these years I had believed that the memory of that kiss was not only a part of me, but also a part of this whole universe, including the shiny leaves on the tropical trees in the forest and the ripple of the waves that lapped up on the beach. Like my grandmother used to say to me, when you think about something enough, it takes on a life of its own. That's what the memory of that kiss felt like to me. When I closed my eyes, I could still feel everything—every single sound and taste and tickle of energy coursing through my body—like I was back there on that beach with Shane.

I could still feel it, why couldn't he? Why had he been so formal with me? What was the point of seeing him again when all it did was make me realize how delusional I'd been? That night was so long ago and it was stupid for me to imagine that he'd thought about that kiss as much as I had.

I followed the path through the tropical forest that I'd traveled thousands of times. This place, my secret cove, was where I came for any and every reason. Sad or happy, to celebrate or to cheer myself up, coming here was always my first impulse. Whereas some people went out for dinner or drinks to celebrate an achievement or to drown their sorrows, I came to my secret cove. This place held so much that was dear to me; my grandmother's ashes, my beloved kitty, and my most favorite memories. It comforted me when I was sad and lifted me up even more when I was happy.

I kicked my shoes off at the edge of the beach and walked out onto the sand. There was a slight breeze that evening and it felt incredible as it brushed across my skin. I hadn't planned on coming out here when I left the house this morning, so I was wearing a long sleeved red dress that I'd put on for work. Not really very appropriate for the beach, but after seeing Shane during lunch, I knew I needed to come down here and spend some time alone at my cove.

I went down to the edge of the water and let the waves wash over my feet. Sometimes when I walked along the shore like this, I imagined myself staying here forever, just camping out on the beach and waking each morning to the feel of the sun and sand and waves. It wasn't a very practical fantasy, but they usually weren't. That wasn't the point. Just being able to live in the world exactly the way I wanted it—even if it was only for a few minutes—that was the magic of daydreaming. And down here, with the breeze on my skin and the water tickling my feet, it was so much easier to make my life exactly the way I wanted it.

I was finally starting to feel a little better, but when that image of me spazzing out in the restaurant and Shane's lukewarm greeting flashed in my head again, I came crashing down to earth. I realized that it was probably going to take more than one walk on the beach to help me get over Shane. I'd dreamt about him for so long now, that a part of me really believed that we were meant to be together. A belief that I would never tell another living soul.

I never even told another person about our kiss. Not even Janine. I didn't want anyone to think I was bragging. That the Shane Holloway kissed me. Our kiss was private and special and only meant for us.

But he didn't even remember it, that was obvious to me now. I was just a familiar face from his past, from before his exciting life of traveling and make movies and partying with other famous people, and having more money than I could ever dream of. Because now he had enough money to buy the most beautiful place in the world, and take it away from me.

Chapter 4

Shane

After we left the restaurant Brittany seemed to cheer up a little. She even commented on the view of the ocean as we drove up the coast, something she hadn't mentioned once since we landed. But the minute we turned off the main road onto the gravel drive that led to the house, Brittany started up again. "Where are we going? We're not going to be living way out here, are we? This is practically the middle of the jungle, Shane."

"I think you'll really like it. You'll see, it's not really as remote as it seems."

"You're kidding, right? What if I need to run to the store for something or I want to grab a quick cup of coffee? I don't even have a car!"

"Brittany, we will get you a car."

"I find it hard to believe they sell anything but golf carts on this stupid island."

"We can go down and rent you one in the morning. And please don't call it a stupid island. It's where I grew up. I love it here." I had pretty much had it with her attitude. All I could think about was getting to the house, taking a shower, and spending the rest of the evening alone. I'd hoped she would be going to bed as soon as we got to the house, but when I looked at the digital display on the dash I realized it was barely four o'clock. After the day I'd had, it felt much later than that.

When I parked the car in front of the sprawling, modern house I was sure she would change her tune about where the house was located. It was spectacular. The view from the car alone was incredible, and I was sure it was going to be even more amazing from the back balcony of the house that overlooked the ocean.

I got the luggage out of the trunk and carried it to the front door, then slipped the key in next to a huge rectangle of glass that took up half the door. From there I could see the living room, furniture in dark shades of wood and leather, that sat on a thick white carpet.

I opened the door and let Brittany in, then carried the luggage inside. We toured the immediate rooms, a large entryway that led to the living room, and an enormous kitchen, which was only separated from the living room by a large island.

"This is awesome!" I exclaimed. "It's way bigger than it looked online."

Brittany flopped down on the huge, sectional couch. "Well, it doesn't look to me like it's been updated or even repainted in a few years. But if that doesn't bother you …"

I picked up the suitcases and carried them down the hall to the master bedroom. It was a corner room with two full walls that looked out onto the ocean and the jagged cliffs that lined the coast to the east of the house. I opened a sliding glass door and stepped out onto a massive patio that was bordered with a glass railing. In the far corner sat a huge hot tub that was surrounded by a marble tile platform.

I went back into the living room to find Brittany. "You have to come check this bedroom out, babe. The view is spectacular."

Brittany just sat there on the couch staring up at me. "What's so great about this place, Shane? We've been in way nicer hotels in Europe and the Caribbean. This place is just so … average."

"How can you say that? Have you even looked at the view?"

"I've seen plenty of views before. It's just a bunch of water and rocks and trees. Who cares?"

I stared at her in stunned silence for a moment. I didn't understand how she could possibly mean what she'd just said. "You can't be serious. This is one of the most beautiful islands on the planet. The water is brilliant blue!"

"The water was bluer on Tortola." She just sat there on the couch pouting.

"What the hell is the problem, Brittany? You've had a bad attitude about everything since we landed."

"I don't like it here, Shane! It's not anything like I imagined it was going to be. We're out in the middle of nowhere!"

"Well, when we go into town we'll be around people. There's restaurants and bars—"

"Like the one we went to today? That crappy little steakhouse? I was picturing us eating at outdoor tables at the Azure and lounging around on those padded recliners under big umbrellas while waiters brought us a never-ending stream of drinks. Not a restaurant full of nobodies and a waiter that we had to flag down to get a refill of overbrewed iced tea!"

"What the … the Azure is in Honolulu, Brittany. That's on a completely different island."

"That's exactly what I'm saying. I thought we would be living in Honolulu, with big buildings all around, not out here surrounded with forests filled with giant centipedes and mosquitoes. I'm not that kind of girl, Shane. I don't even own a pair of flat sandals."

"But I told you where we were going," I said as I slid down onto the couch next to her. "I told you all about this island, how different it is from any place I've ever been. I told you about the secluded beaches and the forest and how special they were to me. Didn't you listen to anything I said?"

"I don't know. I guess not."

I sat there in silence, completely stunned. Now I understood why Brittany had been such a bitch since we got here. From the very beginning she'd tuned out everything I'd told her about where we were going to the sound of her own voice in her own head. Every time I talked to her about my plans she would smile and nod, but in her head she was picturing herself at five star resorts in the largest city on the Hawaiian islands. She might as well have not have even left LA.

As I stared at her I couldn't even believe she was the same person I'd thought I'd fallen in love with eight months ago. Maybe I hadn't been paying attention all this time either.

I got up off the couch and walked over to the sliding glass door that led out onto the balcony. When I opened it up the smell of the ocean and forest overpowered my senses. The scent in the air and the feel of the cool breeze on my skin was almost intoxicating. I stepped out and crossed the patio, closing my eyes as I wrapped my hands around the edge of the glass railing. I wasn't going to let Brittany ruin this for me. I wanted her to be happy, but if she wasn't even capable of listening to me when I talked about the place we were moving to, her apparent misery was her own fault. There wasn't much I could do about it now.

I walked over to a telescope on the far west corner of the balcony and removed the cover, then lowered my eye down to the viewfinder and scanned the nearby forest, trying to get the hang of focusing the thing. I had no idea where I was going to build my house or the one I had planned for my parents, but I had an idea. I wanted it to be close enough to the water that there was easy to access the beaches, but then I worried that it might be too far from the main road for my parents. They were getting older and I wanted them to be comfortable. I didn't want them to have to trek around too much to get anywhere.

But I also didn't want to have too much of an impact on the area by adding more access roads than necessary. I thought about having them out for a visit soon. They could give me their input and moral support. This was one of the most exciting times of my life, but I still needed someone around who would be supportive. I sure as hell wasn't getting that from Brittany.

I moved the viewfinder toward the ocean and scanned the coastline. Even from this distance I could see a few green turtles floating along the shore. I kept moving the telescope until I came to the curved sandy beach of the cove. I was surprised that there was such a clear view from up here. But I could see just about the whole cove through an open section in the trees.

I smiled at the idea of that place actually belonging to me after all this time. A warm feeling filled my chest when I thought about walking on that beach with Maggie again. After all these years I could still picture the way the fading light in the sky reflected off her eyes, and the sexy part in her lips just before mine touched them.

Something caught my eye near the surf and I refocused the telescope on a woman in a red dress. At first I was surprised to see someone on such a secluded beach. It was public land, but it was pretty remote. There were no roads that led up to the beach itself. The only way to access the cove, or any of the beaches along this entire corner of the island, was to park along the gravel service road, then hike in on one of the many miles of trails.

But as I watched the woman walk along with the waves lapping at her feet, I remembered that Maggie had been wearing a similar dress when I'd seen her a few hours ago. I watched the woman for a long time, her long dark hair blowing gently in the breeze along with the skirt of her dress. It had to be her. The way she moved and the gentle stillness that had always drawn my curiosity. It felt a little weird to be watching her without her knowledge, but I couldn't stop myself. The longer I looked at her through the viewfinder, the more I wanted to know her again.

"Anything interesting?"

I jumped a little when I heard Brittney's voice, then turned and looked at her.

"I'm sorry, Shane. I didn't mean to start a fight. I know how much you were looking forward to coming back here, and if it means that much to you I'm willing to give it a try."

I put my arm out so that she could stand next to me, then I closed it around her. "That's okay. I know this was a difficult move for you. I'm sure you'll get used to it here, maybe even grow to love it as much as I do." I wanted to believe the words that I heard coming out of my mouth, but a voice in my head told me not to hold my breath.

"What were you looking at?"

"Oh, just a part of the land that I'm purchasing." I looked back through the eyepiece and the woman in the red dress had disappeared. I wondered if it really was Maggie that I watched as she wandered along that same spot where we kissed ten years ago, or if it was just wishful thinking.

"Look through here. You can see a little cove that's completely circled by the forest. It's a really beautiful spot." I moved Brittany in front of me so that she could look through the telescope.

"Neat," she said without much enthusiasm. "How do you get down there?"

"There's a trail. It's not a rough hike at all. Maybe fifteen minutes," I said with a hopeful enthusiasm that I suspected was not going to be returned.

"No flats, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. Well, we'll figure something out."

Later that night, around midnight after the sky was black and the stars were out, I went out onto the balcony and took in the amazing sight of the star-filled sky and the reflection of the moon on the rippling waves. I really loved it here. I knew there were plenty of other places in the world that were just as beautiful and where I would be very happy, but there was just something about this island. I wasn't completely sure but I had a feeling it had to do with Maggie.

I felt Brittany move up behind me. She didn't touch me but I could just feel that she was there.

"Isn't the sky amazing?" I asked. "The stars are so much more visible since there's not as many city lights on this side of the island."

"More like no city lights at all."

"Yeah, you're right," I said as I turned and pulled her closer to me. It didn't sound like she was too impressed with the stars, but I chose to ignore the implications in her tone. "And no lights down here means brighter lights up there."

"Shane …"

"Yeah," I said, kissing the top of her head.

"I don't think this is going to work."

I pulled back a little and looked down at her, but her eyes didn't meet mine. "What, this house? Is it really that bad?"

"It's not just the house. It's everything. I guess I really had different ideas about what it would be like when we got here—how we would be living. I mean, we can both afford a lot better than this, Shane. Between us we could probably buy one of the skyscrapers in downtown Honolulu and live on the penthouse floor, but instead we're here."

"You make that sound like a bad thing. To me this is the kind of place that, usually, money can't buy. It just so happens that my money can buy it this time, though. I'm in the right place at the right time with more money than I ever dreamed I'd have, thanks to some really good investments. Do you have any idea how lucky I am to have this opportunity?"

"Opportunity for what? There's nothing here, Shane." I could see in her eyes how serious she was, but I just couldn't believe it.

"How can you look around and say there's nothing here? That incredibly blue ocean, the forest, the beaches and this amazing sky all in one place. It's perfect."

"It may be perfect to you, but it's not to me. I don't want to live here in this house, or down there in that jungle. I just don't. I'm sorry, but we want different things."

I stood there and stared at the moon reflecting in the ocean for a moment while Brittany slipped out of my arms. "I guess you're right. I'm sorry I brought you here."

"Don't apologize. It was my fault too."

"I'll fly you back in the morning."

"That's okay, I already booked my flight. I just need a ride to the airport, since I'm assuming there's no cabs on this island."

"Well … there are cabs here, but I'll take you myself. It's the least I can do."

"No, Shane, the least you could do was be the totally understanding person that you are. Thank you for not making this hard for me. I haven't been particularly pleasant since we got here and you've been really sweet, as usual."

"Of course." I wanted to wrap my arms around her, mostly because endings always made me sad and I knew it would make me feel better. But I also knew it was best to let her go. Best for both of us.

Chapter 5

Maggie

"Hey, what do you think of this mortar and pestle for my kitchen? It matches the tiki theme I've got going on in there."

I heard the words coming out of Janine's mouth, but for some reason they weren't registering. Well, I knew the reason. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about Shane—not for one second—since I ran into him yesterday. "Sorry, what?"

"Are you okay, Maggie? You seem kinda down today. Is it about that land? Where your cat is buried?"

"Yeah, but … it's more than that, Janine."

"What, sweetie?"

I felt like I had to talk to Janine about how I was feeling. Maybe not tell her all the gory details about how in love with Shane I'd been these last ten years, but I wanted to at least tell her about what happened. I needed feedback and support. I couldn't just wallow forever. "I didn't tell you everything yesterday. I just … I've never really told anyone and it's not really … I mean, I don't want to make a big deal out of it."

"What's going on?"

"Promise me you won't make a big deal out of it."

"I promise! Will you tell me already?"

"Okay, well, you know Shane Holloway …"

"Uh, yeah—the guy you turned beet red in front of yesterday? Yeah, I think I know who you're talking about."

"You're kidding! I did? Oh god, now I'm even more embarrassed that I was yesterday, and I didn't even think that was possible. Do you think he noticed?"

"Well, from the little I know about him, I'm pretty sure he's not blind."

"Great."

"So, come on! Out with it!"

"Okay, you asked me how well I knew him back in high school, before he left for Hollywood, and I told you not that well. That was true, we hung out throughout high school, but mostly in larger groups with other friends, until …"

"Until?"

"Well, just before he moved away he asked me to go down to the cove with him."

"The cove? Your cove?"

"Yeah. And he kissed me."

"Oh my god, Maggie! What was it like?"

"It was the most amazing kiss I've ever had in my life, Janine. I've never been able to stop thinking about it, and now that he's back here and I've seen him in person again, it's like my memory of that night has gone into overdrive. I keep picturing that night on the beach. His gorgeous eyes looking down at me … and his perfect lips moving toward me … until they touched mine. Oh God!" I covered my face like a star-struck teenager.

"Oh my God, Maggie, you're hilarious! You've got a crush on Shane Holloway!"

"Shut up!"

I heard Janine laugh and I knew she was laughing with me, because I knew just how hilarious this whole thing was. I was a grown woman for christ's sake. "But that's not a bad thing, is it? Having a crush on him? I mean, he's just a dude. He may be famous, but underneath all that he's a pretty regular guy."

"Well, considering everything, his model girlfriend and the real estate deal, and not to mention me spazzing out like a total idiot when I saw him—including but not limited to the blushing—I'd say it's pretty bad."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about all that."

"Thanks."

"I'm kidding! Okay, let's think about this. The model girlfriend is not a definite thing. Relationships end all the time, so that problem is not a total dream killer. And you spazzing out is absolutely not an issue, I can guarantee you that."

"How? I knocked over all those trays. I made a complete idiot out of myself right in front of him and the entire restaurant, Janine!"

"Yeah, but like I said, you're way too hard on yourself. Everything you do, even when you're knocking over a stack of trays, is pretty damned cute. You've got a total hot, cute thing going on that a lot of guys are into."

"I don't know about that," I said. I could feel my face growing hot again.

"Believe me, you do. I'm sure, if he has any interest in you at all, he didn't care about what happened at the restaurant. In fact, he might have even been nervous to see you too."

"Yeah, right. He acted like he barely remembered me. So what about the third thing?"

"The land deal? Yeah that's a tough one. I'll look into it at work, see if there are any permits being taken out yet. You never know, he might not be planning anything too major there."

"Just the fact that that whole area is turning into private land is major enough. I can't fathom not being able to go there whenever I need to—which is pretty much all the time."

Janine turned to the stall owner and handed her some cash. "Well, all you can do at this point is wait and see what happens. I'll look into it, don't worry. So, do you wanna get something to eat?"

"Yeah, sure, I think that amazing hand pie place just opened up a stall around here somewhere. I put their card in my purse," I said fishing around inside the big shoulder bag I carried with me everywhere. I spotted it way down at the bottom, and tried to get it out from amongst all the other crap, but dropped the whole bag, contents and all, onto the ground when I felt someone slam into me.

I looked down at my turned over bag, and everything in it, as it lay scattered on the ground. When I looked back up at who I'd run into I wanted to die. It was Shane. He was standing right in front of me, his body practically pressed against mine, and before I could move or say a word, he grabbed both of my arms.

"Maggie, are you okay! I'm so sorry, I was looking at all the stuff on the tables and I wasn't paying any attention to where I was going." I looked up into those big, dark eyes of his and I saw that he was smiling—with his eyes and everything this time. There he was, standing incredibly close to me. Our bodies were almost touching, just like that night on the beach. He stood there with his hands on my arms—looking into my eyes and smiling down at me—and neither of us saying a word for a long moment.

"That's okay," I managed to get out. "I wasn't looking where I was going either."

"Birds of a feather," he said, both of his hands squeezing my arms and then letting go. "Here, let me get this for you," he said as he knelt down and started to pick everything up. I dropped down and shoveled makeup and tissue packets into my bag—wondering why I needed to carry all this crap around with me everywhere—while Shane picked up the loose change that had scattered for three feet in every direction.

"Funny running into you again," Shane said. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my eyes still on the ground.

"I wasn't very friendly at the restaurant. I mean, I hadn't seen you in so long and I don't know … I feel like I should have—."

"I think that's everything," I said as I stood up. Then when I looked at the genuine concern in his eyes I touched his arm. "Don't be silly. You were perfectly friendly."

"Well, if you say so," he said with that dazzling smile. "But, still, I'd like to make it up to you. Are you free for lunch?"

"Well, I …" I looked around for Janine but didn't see her anywhere. "My friend was here just a minute ago, but I don't see her now." I felt my phone vibrate and pulled it out to see a text from Janine.

Go for it!

ttyl

"Well, it looks like my friend had to leave unexpectedly, so yeah, it looks like I'm free for lunch." I smiled up at Shane. "You're sure you don't have anywhere to be?"

"Nope. I'm all yours."

We wound up back at the same restaurant where we ran into each other the day before and took our time eating and talking. At first I didn't ask too many things about his life. I didn't want to pry into his personal life or launch into an attack about the land, so I let him ask questions for a while. But the conversation eventually turned to his life after he left Kauai. It was nice hearing him talk about how nervous he was at first to be making movies with other well-known actors, and how scared he was when he walked down the red carpet for the first time. He talked about all the parties and what it was like to travel all over the world, but, after a while, he stopped. "I don't want to keep talking about myself, Maggie. I can't imagine that it's all that interesting for you."

"No, it is. I really am interested, Shane. I've wondered many times about how you were doing since you moved away and … well … became famous. God, that sounds so terrible. Like you turned into a different person or something."

"Well, it's true in a way. That's the way it feels sometimes, like I'm a different person now—at least the way other people see me. I get treated differently now, that's for sure. I can't say that I love it, but it is what it is. I'm glad you said it that way instead of calling me a …"

"What? A movie star?"

"Yeah," he said with a laugh. "I mean, I know they're just words, but that name has always made me feel a little funny. It makes me feel even more separated from people when they call me a movie star. Like I'm from another planet or something."

"No, I know what you mean. I've never thought of people who do things in the public eye as any different than the rest of us," I smiled. "Or compared them to a ball of gas in the sky."

Shane laughed out loud at what I said. "Well, when you put it that way…" He laughed a little longer, then a serious look came over his face. "It's really great to talk to you again, Maggie. I haven't felt this comfortable talking to anyone in a long time."

"Really? How come?"

"Well, it's the classic problem that some people with a lot of money or fame have to deal with. It's probably kind of hard to understand if you've never experienced it before, though. I never know if someone wants to talk to me because they're genuinely interested in me as a person, or if they only want to be seen with me … or want something from me. Sometimes I'm talking to someone and I look into their eyes and I can tell they couldn't care less what I'm saying. They're just fixated on the fact that they're talking to a celebrity."

"I can't believe people are like that with you. That seems so shallow."

"It happens all the time, and it makes me really uncomfortable. I've gotten to where I'd rather be alone than talk to someone who just wants to be around me because of who I am."

"That's terrible. It must make you feel pretty lonely. But what about your girlfriend, Brittany?"

"Well, I could talk to her, but she's always seemed way more acclimated to the life of a celebrity than I've ever been. I got the feeling she didn't really understand where I was coming from when I mentioned the way I felt to her. I guess not everyone feels this way. Anyway, I just want to thank you for having lunch with me and listening to me."

"You're kidding, right?" I couldn't believe he was serious but when I saw the look in his eyes I knew that he was. "You don't need to thank me, Shane. I've always loved talking to you. I … I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Maggie." He looked down at his hands for a second, then back up at me. "You wouldn't want to come back to my place for a while, would you? If you don't already have any other plans."

I looked at my watch, not because I had anywhere to be, but because I suddenly realized we'd been sitting there talking for a long time. "Oh my god, we've been here for four hours!"

"Oh god, I can't believe I sat here talking your ear off for so long."

"No," I said. "I've loved every minute of it. But won't Brittany be waiting for you?" I was surprised he hadn't mentioned her more during our conversation.

"No. She flew back to LA this morning. We broke up."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Shane."

"Yeah, she didn't seem to like it here as much as I do." It almost seemed like he wanted to say something more about her but changed his mind. "Why don't we head back to my place? I'd love for you to see it. It's a house up on the cliffs right on the edge of the property I'm in the process of purchasing—you know it, where the cove is, where I … where we went just before I moved away. I don't know if you remember that night? When we hung out there together under that incredibly starry sky?"

"Yes, I do remember it." I wanted to ask him about purchasing the property, but I couldn't after he brought up that night. Every fiber of my being was screaming that he did remember and that maybe, just maybe, it was a special night for him too. I figured I could ask him why he was purchasing the land after we got back to his place. But for now I wanted to bask in this incredible feeling. "Okay, lets go to your place. I'd love to see it."

Once we walked in the door of the amazing house Shane was living in, I suddenly had a sneaking suspicion that I didn't know how to read men very well. I mean, I don't consider myself particularly naive, but—based on what Janine has said about me and how unsure I was about how Shane felt about me—I was way off base with what I thought was going to happen. In my mind, once we got to Shane's place, we would have a drink, sit on the couch, and talk. Not that I didn't want more, I absolutely did. But the part of my mind that doesn't believe that I'm a seductive sexpot didn't have a clue what was about to happen.

As soon as we walked in his front door, I could feel the sexual tension between us. It was almost as if we were being pulled together by a force that was stronger than we were. We kept bumping into each other on the way to the house and then, once we were inside, Shane turned to me.

"I want you, Maggie. I've always wanted you." He wasn't touching me, but his body was so close to mine I could practically feel every inch of him. He hovered over me, his eyes burning into mine and his hot breath tickling my lips. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since that night on the beach."

I held my breath as his hand moved up and touched my cheek, his eyes still intent and focused on mine. His thumb brushed across my lips and I felt my head tilt back while my body pressed up against his. I could feel his desire for me, hard and firm against my stomach. It felt like a delicious eternity before his lips finally touched mine, soft at first, but then with an urgency that completely took my breath away.

Suddenly, Shane pushed me up against the wall in the entryway, his body pressed firmly into mine and his hands lifting my face up to his. His tongue slid in between my lips to meet mine, then gently moved in and out each time his lips parted. My body melted in between him and the wall as my hands moved up his rock hard chest.

I felt like a rag doll in his strong hands, the way they gently but firmly gripped my face and moved me exactly where he wanted me to be. I couldn't help the moans and whimpers that escaped from my throat, each one seeming to fuel Shane's passion even more.

One of his hands moved behind my head and he pulled it to the side so that he had full access to my neck. His hot lips devoured me while his other hand slid down to my breast. "You feel so incredible, Maggie." When I felt his breath on my ear I reached up, moving my hands across his neck and face, then burying my fingers in his thick hair. Our eyes were fixed on each other and I felt like I was eighteen again, looking deep into his eyes for the very first time.

"Where's the bedroom?" I asked with a shy smile curling up at the corners of my mouth. With those three words hanging in the air, Shane wrapped his arms around my waist and picked me up, carrying me through a living room with giant glass walls and down a hallway. I giggled most of the way down the hall, then squealed when he threw me backward onto the bed.

Chapter 6

Shane

I couldn't believe Maggie was really here, sprawled out on my bed in front of me and looking up at me. Her long dark hair was splayed out around her and the smile on her face melted my heart. It was so genuine, not like the fake sexy look so many girls have given me in the past. It had gotten to where I didn't even feel like I could trust Brittany when we were in bed together. I knew she wasn't star struck or anything, like some of the others, but I always got the feeling that she was putting on an act for me in bed. That she didn't actually know how to just be herself.

But there wasn't a fake bone in Maggie's body. Everything she said and did was one-hundred-percent her.

She looked incredible laying there, exactly how I pictured her all these years. So sexy, with plenty of curves in all the right places.

I kicked off my shoes and unbuttoned my shirt, then felt a surge in my cock as I watched her eyes move down my chest. It was nice to be admired when I could actually trust the source and didn't feel like I was in a cheap porno.

Next came my pants and boxers, kicked to the floor with everything else. Maggie still had all her clothes on and I was going to enjoy taking every last piece off. But for now, I was loving the way her eyes took me in.

I crawled onto the bed, my eyes never leaving hers for one second. I straddled her hips, resting my weight on my heels. My hands moved up Maggie's stomach, under her shirt. As I unfastened each button I glanced down at what was revealed to me, my excitement growing as her breasts were slowly uncovered.

Sheer black fabric and lace covered her, but large, erect nipple still showed through. While I bent down and kissed the soft flesh of the tops of one of her breasts, Maggie arched her back and reached behind herself, unhooking her bra and letting the flimsy piece of clothing fall away.

Maggie's breasts were magnificent. They spilled to each side of her chest in a natural way, something I rarely saw anymore. So many of the girls I'd been with seemed to believe that the only thing men were interested in nowadays were a larger, perkier set of tits, when what I'd been craving all these years was something different. Something real. Maggie was everything I'd dreamed about.

I moved my hands up and cupped the soft flesh, gripping both breasts at the same time. The weight, coupled with the silky texture, took my breath away. I massaged both of them, kneading and squeezing them while my thumbs moved back and forth over the hard nipples. Maggie's breath grew quick and shallow when I moved my lips down and sucked one of the sensitive nubs into my mouth. My tongue swirled around while I sucked her flesh inside my mouth and gently teased her with my teeth.

While I continued to focus all of my attention on her breasts, cupping them and licking every inch, Maggie wriggled out of her shirt. Without moving my attention away from her breasts, I caught Maggie's hands in mine as she reached down to take off her pants, bringing them back up so that they were on either side of her head. I could hear her breath suck in as I pressed down on them, letting her know that I was in charge—I would be taking her clothes off.

With my hands back on her pillowy breasts, my mouth made its way between them, kissing and licking down the center of her chest. My hands moved down to Maggie's pants and I made quick work of unbuttoning, unzipping, and lowering them as I inched my way down her body. I could hear the sexy moans coming out of her each time my mouth found a new sensitive spot, but when I pulled her pants off and spread her legs apart the moans took on an even sexier, deeper tone.

I could see her pussy lips and the dark space in between them through her sheer black panties. I pushed her legs even further apart and touched her through the silky fabric. She squirmed underneath me and when I looked up she was smiling, her eyes still closed. I hooked my fingers into the top edge of Maggie's panties and as I pulled them down, her legs closed to allow them to slide off. When they were off, she tossed them to the floor with a kick of her foot. Her eyes opened and she watched me as I moved on top of her, spreading her legs wide and wrapping them around me as I rested my cock in the open space between them.

I lowered my lips to hers and thrust my hips into her, slowly sliding my cock into the warm, slick space in between her pussy lips. She was already wet and it took every ounce of strength I had not to swiftly plunge my cock into her right there and then. I had waited so long to feel her soft, warm pussy wrap around me. I wanted to invade her and finally make her mine, but I also wanted to go slow. I wanted to make this first time last. I knew the sex would be amazing, but the build-up—the anticipation—it was like unwrapping the best gift ever.

I brought her arms above her head again and forced them into the mattress even harder this time. She was so sweet and gentle, but I could see in her eyes that she loved it when I took control. She looked up at me like I was her master and, because it was her, I knew how honest those eyes were. The look she gave me hit me at my core. It was everything I'd ever wanted and had never gotten from any other woman I'd been with. When I looked down into Maggie's eyes, I simultaneously wanted to take everything and give her everything at the same time.

The head of my cock strained against Maggie's opening, but I wasn't going to let this night be over with so quickly. I wanted to draw it out, to hear Maggie moan and squeal as she came, her legs wrapped around my head while my mouth was still buried deep between her pussy lips. Then, with my cock about to explode inside her, I wanted to hear her scream my name.

I kissed her one more time and headed south. Kissing, sucking and licking my way down her breasts to her stomach, I finally reached her neatly trimmed mound. I brought her legs up in the air, then pushed them forward so that they rested at the sides of her chest, her luscious breasts lying there between them. She looked at me with wide eyes, like a deer caught in headlights, as her pussy was spread open in front of me.

I pushed on her legs one more time and Maggie's glistening pussy rose up in the air to meet me. My hands moved down and gripped her ass cheeks then I buried my face in her musky folds. The sounds that came out of her mouth were amazing. The breathy, high-pitched moans were my favorite. She sounded like she was having a hard time controlling herself and when my lips and teeth wrapped around her clit—and my finger slid inside her, massaging her g-spot—she lost it.

She wrapped her arms around her legs, pulling them back and spreading herself wider for me, and her moans became more like yells. Her hips gyrated underneath me so that it felt like I was riding a horse bareback with my face. With each thrust of my finger inside her, Maggie's hips came up to meet me. She was so wet by this point that rivers of her musky desire were flowing down her ass cheeks and my chin.

I could tell she was about to come because everything became still. Maggie's breathing stopped and her body went rigid. I continued to suck on her clit while massaging her g-spot and when her dam broke, I thought I might come right then just from the sound of her deep, throaty groan.

Just as I had hoped, her legs clamped down around my head and her hips bucked while I continued to eat her. Then, when the intensity became too much for her, she pushed my head down and I moved back. But I was far from done. Moving forward like a panther, I found her wet hole with the head of my cock and rammed it into her with one hard thrust.

The scream that escaped from her mouth and the look of ecstasy on her face were almost more than I could take. My entire body was shaking at this point, from excitement and from the desperate need to come inside this woman. I held out as long as I could and, when I felt myself cross over to the point of no return, I fell onto her, burying my face in her neck while the intensity of my orgasm coursed throughout my body.

I continued to thrust into her, gripping her ass and holding it in place so that I could sink my cock into her as deeply as possible. The sound of her voice and the way her body felt against mine—and the knowledge that it was Maggie—made me come harder and longer than I ever had in my life.

When I finally opened my eyes and saw her lying there so peacefully, I wrapped my arms around her tightly and slowly kissed every inch of her face. She opened her eyes and a smile spread across her face, an incredible sparkle lighting everything up.

"This is exactly what I've been wanting for the last ten years."

"What?" she asked so sweetly, while she pushed her hand up my chest and wrapped it around the back of my neck.

"You."

I could see a hint of pink on her cheeks and what looked like a glaze of tears in her eyes, but she didn't say anything. She just kissed me so softly and gently that it felt like we were floating together on a cloud. I'd never felt anything like that with another woman.

I fell asleep with Maggie in my arms.

When I woke the next morning, she was still there, her soft, warm body pressed against mine. We made love again, with a little less intensity than the night before, but it was perfect. The way her body moved with mine, it was as if we were made for each other.

"Stay here," I said, kissing her neck and shoulders while I held her from behind. "I'm going to make some breakfast."

"I'm ready to get up. Let me help you."

"If you really want to help, you can sit out on the balcony and relax. I want to take care of you."

"Okay, but you have to let me do something. Cut up some fruit, maybe?"

"I mean I want to take care of you, Maggie. From now on."

"Shane …"

"I know it probably seems sudden, but you have no idea how much I've thought about you, how much I've missed you. I was young and stupid when I left here and I have to admit, in the beginning, dating models and famous actresses … well, it made me feel good. It made me feel important, I guess. But, then, after years of being in the spotlight and seeing how fake so many women were with me, I wound up only dating women who had the same experiences as I did. It just felt safer. But safer isn't always better. In fact, it rarely is. And it took me way too long to realize that."

"I completely understand, Shane, you don't have to explain—"

"But I want to. It's something that has weighed on my mind for a long time. I feel like I just ran away after that kiss on the beach. I didn't say anything to anyone about it."

"I didn't either. I never told another person about that kiss. It was really special to me, Shane."

"It was to me too, and that's why I feel like such an asshole for never having told you. It's been ten years. And, for some reason, it took me running into you again to remember how much you meant to me. When I saw you there in the restaurant, I remembered that you were the reason I loved this island so much—and the cove. And I remembered how much I've always felt that I could trust you. I haven't felt like I could completely trust anyone for a long time. After I saw you, I realized that you are the reason I jumped at the chance to buy that property, Maggie."

Chapter 7

Maggie

"You did?" I was in shock. I was so glad this conversation was happening, but I couldn't believe the words that were coming out of Shane's mouth. I'd been kicking myself throughout the night for not bringing it up earlier, right when we sat down at the restaurant yesterday. Then, when I woke up this morning, I was worried that I'd waited too long.

But the more I got to know Shane again, the more I had the feeling that he couldn't possibly be doing this to make money or capitalize on the land. He didn't seem like the type at all.

"I wasn't even sure if you were still living here. I'd planned on looking you up once I got settled. But I was with Brittany and, even though I wasn't one-hundred-percent sure how I felt about her, I wouldn't have cheated on her. I could never lie to someone like that. It's just not in me."

"I'm glad." I heard the words after I'd said them and realized how callous it sounded. "I mean, I'm glad you're not that kind of person, not that you two broke up. I guess I'm glad that you figured out how you felt, though. But what makes you think it was me?"

"I don't know, it was almost like an idea at the back of my head that I couldn't shake, or a feeling. When the offer came up, I just knew I had to take it."

"How did you find out about it?"

"My manager. He's been with me for a long time. He'd been my agent up until a few years ago and, because he seemed to know what he was doing, I had him start managing my money for me. I've had a hard time getting to a place where I felt I could trust anyone, especially on that level, but I trust him. He's made some really good investments for me, and that's mostly why I'm able to afford the land. Even the money I make on all my movies wouldn't have put me in the same league as the other guys who wheel and deal in that kind of market."

"Is he taking care of the whole thing for you?"

"Yeah, pretty much. He's got a real estate lawyer all lined up and the only thing I really have to do is sign the papers when the deal is finalized. I wouldn't know what to say during any of those meetings anyway."

"Wow, that's really exciting. I hope it all works out for you." I paused for a moment before asking my next question. The question that had been on my mind ever since Janine told me about the sale. "So what are you going to do with the land?" I think my nervousness came through in my voice because I could hear it shaking ever so slightly. I really wanted to trust Shane, and when I looked in his eyes and saw the sincerity there, I knew that I could.

"Why don't we talk about that out on the balcony? I'll bring breakfast out there and I can show you what I've been thinking. Maybe you can help me decide," he said with a warm smile.

"I'd like that."

When we were out on the outdoor patio that wrapped around the entire back of the house, Shane brought out a huge tray of fruit and toast and tea.

"I hope you like tea. I forgot to get coffee and this is all there was in the cupboard. Earl Grey," he read off the tag as he sat the tray down in the center of the table and started to pour some for himself.

"Earl Grey sounds perfect." Everything sounded and felt perfect. The incredible view from this gorgeous balcony … and last night with Shane. Being with him was better than I could have ever imagined—and I had imagined it pretty well.

After I ate a huge pile of cubed mango and pineapple, Shane took me over to a telescope and showed me the area of land he was purchasing, which included my secret cove.

Our secret cove, I thought as I looked through the eyepiece and felt Shane's warm body up against mine.

"So, the property I'm purchasing covers the area from the line of short palm trees about forty feet from this house to that second outcropping of rocks and extends about twenty miles south."

"Wow, that's really far."

"Yeah, it's a lot of land, and I really want to do right by it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I don't want to ruin any of the natural setting. When I build on it—I'm planning a house for myself and one for my parents—I'm going to have someone come in who will be diligent about making sure the building of the houses and the maintaining of them doesn't have any impact on the surrounding forest. I want to keep everything as close to the way it is right now as possible."

"Wow, that's really incredible, Shane. I'm impressed that you care enough to consider that. You know, this whole area is pretty sacred to the native people on this island. My father's side of the family has ancestors buried here. Plus my grandmother's ashes were scattered at the cove."

"Yeah, I've heard a little about that, but I'd love for you to tell me more. I'd love for you to be a part of this, Maggie."

When Shane spoke those words, I felt like I was falling into a pool of warm water that enveloped my body. His voice and the words he said, it was all so incredible. I felt like this all had to be a dream. It just didn't seem like I could be this lucky.

I turned around and looked up into his eyes. "I want to be a part of it too, Shane." I wasn't sure if I should say what was on my mind, but I knew I had to. "I knew you were buying that property, and to tell you the truth, I was really upset at first. I thought maybe you were going to tear it all up and build some horrible condos or a resort."

"There are a lot of people who want to do that exact thing. I was lucky to get in on it when I did. I don't know how my manager swung it, but I was the first one offered this deal. But now … well … if I didn't buy this property … I know for a fact that there's a list as long as my arm of other people who would snap it up in a second. For twice what I'm paying. And there would be resorts popping up along this shore within months."

"I can imagine." I smiled up at Shane. "I'm glad you're buying it. It feels right."

"Thank you. That means a lot to me, Maggie."

When I got home I was practically floating on air. Shane and I had finished breakfast on the terrace, then he brought me back to my house around noon. Even though I felt like I had to tear myself away from him, I had lots of things to do before the work week started.

After I walked in the door, I felt my phone vibrate. When I fished it out of my bag I was surprised when I saw multiple calls and texts from Janine. I hadn't even looked at my phone once while I was with Shane.

"What's up?" I asked Janine.

"Where have you been? I've been trying to get ahold of you since last night."

"I'll tell you all about it. But first tell me whatever it is that had you calling and texting me fifteen times. It must be pretty damned important," I laughed.

"You're not going to like this, Maggie."

"What?"

"I talked to one of the lawyers at the firm on the team that is putting together that land deal."

"Yeah?"

"He is totally planning on building condos, right down there on the beach."

"Who?"

"Shane Holloway!"

"No, Janine, that's not possible. I just talked to him and he told me what he's planning on doing. It has nothing to do with condos. He's building a house for himself and one for his parents. He said he doesn't want any of the guys who are thinking about condos to even get their hands on that property."

"They've applied for permits, Maggie. For multi-dwelling structures."

"I'm sure it's just a misunderstanding. I told you, he's planning on building two homes. That's probably why there's permits for multiple buildings."

"No, not multiple buildings, multiple dwelling structures. Condos."

I was stunned. I still couldn't believe what she was telling me. If what she was saying was true, that meant that everything Shane told me was a lie.

"Are you sure they couldn't be mistaken? Just because there are permit applications, that doesn't mean that's what he is intending to do."

"One of the reasons people apply for permits at this stage is to make sure their plans will be able to go forward once the deal is finalized. If they're applying for them, that means they intend to use them. I hate to say it, Maggie, but it sounds like he was feeding you a story."

"But why would he do that?" A sinking feeling hit my stomach even before the words came out of my mouth.

"Did you sleep with him last night?"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't believe it was true. There was no way my instincts about him could have been that far off.

"Maggie? You did, didn't you?"

"But he didn't tell me about his plans until after … Oh God. Do you really think he told me that to get me into bed?"

"What do you think?"

"I have no idea what to think now! I mean, I obviously can't trust my instincts because I never in a million years would have thought everything he said was a lie."

"What else did he tell you?"

I didn't want to repeat any of it. I was too humiliated to even think about all the wonderful things he'd told me last night and this morning. I couldn't believe how stupid I was.

"I don't want to talk about it right now, Janine. I'm gonna go."

"Maggie, please don't take this too hard. He's just a guy—"

"I gotta go." I hung up on Janine, but I couldn't stand to hear her say another word. I couldn't believe any of this. It just didn't seem possible. But the truth was staring me right in the face. Shane had lied to me … about everything.

Chapter 8

Shane

"I have an interview for you if you're ready for that kind of thing. Someone local. They want to do a piece on the big celebrity coming back to the little island—something like that."

"Already? I've only been back here a couple days."

"Well, you know how it is. The last thing you want is for them to forget about you. You gotta keep moving, like a shark, or … you know … you'll sink faster than the Titanic."

"Thanks for all the analogies, Frank. I think I got it."

I had just returned from taking Maggie back to her place and was settled down on the couch for some mindless channel surfing when my manager's name popped up on my phone. I wasn't really ready to get back into all that yet, but he was always looking out for me, especially since I had a tendency to keep to myself. If it were up to me I'd never speak to a single fan or reporter, but not because I didn't appreciate them. I did. I just preferred it if we could all appreciate each other from afar, without all that up close and personal, face-to-face crap.

"So how are you settling in up there at your new place?"

"Fine, it's nice and quiet here—"

"Just the way you like it, eh?"

"Yep, just the way I like it. So how's the deal coming along?"

"Well, we're waiting on some signatures, but everything seems to be going as expected. We haven't hit any snags with permits or anything, so things are pretty much on schedule."

"Awesome. Let me know if you need anything from me."

"Oh, I will, don't worry."

"Thanks, man."

"All right, I'll have the reporter call your PR phone, you got that one handy?"

"Yeah, it's around here somewhere. Give me a few minutes to find it."

"Alrighty, oh, and do me a favor. Don't mention anything about the land deal. We don't want any inside info getting out about it before the sale goes through. We're in a pretty coveted spot and there are plenty of bloodhounds that would love to find any loophole they can to take us out of the game."

"Yeah, no problem."

"Okee dokee, talk to you later. Holler if you need anything."

"I will. Later, Frank."

I rummaged around in my suitcase and found the phone I had for interviews and other public relations type stuff. Frank and I shared the line, so if someone called or texted and I didn't want to deal with it, he would take over. I usually didn't even look at it unless Frank set something up for me.

A few minutes later, as I was killing time by jumping my robot unicorn over a chasm, my work phone flashed an unlisted, local number.

"This is Shane Holloway."

"Hello, Mr. Holloway. This is Darlene Simms from The Garden Island. I spoke with your manager, Mr. Frank Jennings, and he told me he'd set up a short interview."

"Yes, I talked to him earlier. I'm happy to answer a few questions."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Holloway—"

"You can call me Shane."

"Thank you, Shane. I'm thrilled to be getting this opportunity. The whole island is thrilled to have you back."

"Well, I'm really happy to be back. I've missed this place."

"So rumor has it that you're revisiting a lot of your past now that you're back. Including the property you're in the process of purchasing."

"Yeah, that's true. I grew up here, so there's a lot of history for me. I have to tell you up front, I can't address any rumors you may have heard about a land purchase. But everything else about my career is on the table."

"Okay, I'll stay away from that topic. Let's see, do you have any upcoming projects you'd like to tell us about?"

"I just wrapped up filming The Impossible Deal, in Mongolia. It's an action flick with an awesome cast. It was a really incredible experience. You can get all the info about it from Frank—the release date and the synopsis."

"So do you like traveling to far-off locales when you're making movies?"

"Yeah, that's one of the best parts of the job as far as I'm concerned. I've gotten to see places that most tourists never get to."

"Can you give me some examples?"

"Well, in this last shoot, we stayed in some yurts with a tribe in northern Mongolia. There were a few down days and some of the members of the tribe took us on a wolf hunt. It was insanely beautiful. We rode these massive reindeer out into snowy fields that looked like they went on forever."

"So did you bag a wolf yourself?"

"Oh, no, we weren't allowed to do any actual killing since we were all residents of other countries. They just let us come along for the ride. I honestly don't think I could bring myself to kill an animal for any reason."

"I hear you on that. So when you're off shooting a movie, how long are you usually away from home?"

"Oh, it depends, sometimes a month, sometimes two."

"And do you miss your special someone while you're out there? Are you allowed to have them on the set with you?"

I laughed at the question. I figured that's what she really wanted to know all along—about my love life. There were always interviewers hounding me for stories about the women I was dating, or photographers following me down the street to get a shot of me holding hands with one of them. It bothered me a lot at first, but I just answer questions as simply as possible now and don't let it get to me. "I've had girlfriends stay with me in hotels during some shoots, but I honestly don't know a woman who would be willing to stay in a yurt with me for a month, no matter how many animal skins lined the sleeping area."

"Yeah, I can imagine," the reporter said with a laugh. "My sources tell me that your last relationship was with Brittany Lake, but that she's returned to the States. Is that correct?"

I wondered how these people got their information so fast. It was entirely possible that Brittany had already talked to some entertainment site, maybe even right when she landed, letting the world know that she was on the market again. "That's correct." I had no interest in giving out any more information than that, though.

"And my sources tell me that you were seen wining and dining an old flame, Maggie Alana, here on Kauai just last night."

I was startled by that last comment. I didn't understand how this reporter could possibly know anything about my and Maggie's past. She specifically told me that she had never mentioned that night we spent together to another person.

"Shane, are you still there?"

"Yeah, I … uh … where did you get your information?"

"Are you saying you didn't have dinner with Maggie Alana last night?"

"No, I'm … well, I'm just curious about your sources."

"I don't have anything listed here, it may have been someone who didn't want their name revealed. Is there a problem with this information?"

"No, I mean, yeah, I think I'd prefer to end this interview."

"Did you move back here to reunite with Maggie Alana?"

"I'm sorry, I have to go." I hit end, then just sat there and stared at the phone in my hand for a long time.

What the hell? I thought to myself. It wasn't a huge deal, but knowing that Maggie had lied to me suddenly didn't make me feel very good. There was no reason for her to have said anything at all, really, let alone lie about it. I hadn't even asked her. I was hoping that maybe it was a misunderstanding and I decided to give her a call. I switched to my real phone and hit her number. It rang a few times but went to voice mail. I didn't feel like leaving a message, and didn't really know what I'd say anyway, so I ended the call.

Chapter 9

Maggie

I saw the call from Shane but I just couldn't talk to him right then. I still couldn't believe he'd lied to me just to get me into bed. I mean, hadn't he slept with enough women? Did he really have to stoop so low to get a nobody like me to have sex with him?

I poured over the whole evening and morning I'd spent with him and tried to remember anything that would have given me a clue that he was being insincere. But everything he'd said to me came out so naturally and sounded so real and heartfelt that I was starting to feel like I was crazy, or incredibly stupid.

When my phone rang for the second time I froze. It was Shane again. I didn't know what to do, but I figured it would be silly for me to try to hide from him. I took a deep breath and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Maggie, it's Shane."

"Hi." I knew my tone was cold and I was being really short with him, but I honestly didn't know what to say.

"Hey."

There was a long pause where neither one of us said anything and I thought that was kind of weird. As I sat there, waiting for him to say something, my stomach felt like it was free-falling out of my body. I didn't know why he was suddenly so quiet, but I figured it had to be because of what he'd told me.

Everything was starting to make sense. He had said all those things just to get me into bed, and now he was probably going to back pedal like crazy so that he could get out of everything. Maybe even arrange it so that he could keep sleeping with me.

"Maggie, something happened a little while ago that I'm having a hard time understanding. I talked to a reporter, someone my manager had set me up with, and they asked me about you. They referred to you as an old flame. Do you know why they would be asking me about that?"

"What?" My mind was still reeling from the acceptance that Shane was just like every other asshole on the planet when what he said knocked me for another loop. "Old flame? I have no idea—"

"I thought you told me that you never said a word to anyone about us, about our night on the beach."

"I didn't, Shane—" but suddenly I remembered what I'd told Janine just the other day. "I … Shane, I—"

"Did you just use me, Maggie? I didn't think you were like that."

"I'm not, Shane, you know I'm not. I didn't mean to … Shane I honestly didn't—"

"If you didn't tell anyone then how did the reporter know? Can you explain that to me? Can you explain why she would have referred to you as my old flame? Is that what you told people?"

"No, of course not! I can't believe you're accusing me of—"

"Did you lie to me, Maggie?"

"No, I didn't. Not really. But … just wait a minute, Shane. I can't even believe that you're calling me a liar after what I found out."

"I didn't call you anything. I'm asking you if you lied—"

"—because if there is a liar here, it is most certainly you, with your song and dance about wanting to preserve that sacred land. I can't believe I fell for all that crap about you moving back to the island for me. And telling me that you had a hard time trusting people. That's a good one."

"Whoa, what are you talking about? What the hell happened?"

"I have a friend at the law firm that's handling your deal, Shane. I know you pulled permits to build condos on that land, on that very spot where we walked on the beach together. Don't bother trying to cover your tracks now, I know you lied to me. But did you really think you needed to lie to me just to get me to … ugh, never mind. If you wanted to make me feel like an idiot you've more than succeeded," I said, my voice shaking as tears started streaming down my face. "Congratulations."

"Maggie, I don't have any idea what you're talking about."

I didn't say anything for a moment. I was straddling a fine line of still wanting so desperately to believe that Shane was a good guy—that it was all a misunderstanding—and forcing myself to pay attention to the feeling in my stomach. The feeling that told me that I wasn't someone he would have ever considered being in a serious relationship with anyway. "Are you sure about that? I have to go." I hung up before he had a chance to give me any more lines. I couldn't bear hearing him lie to me again.

I immediately called Janine. She had to have said something to someone. She's the only person on this planet that I'd told, the only one that knew about our kiss.

"Hey, Mags, how are you feeling?"

"Okay. I just talked to Shane."

"Yeah? What did he say?"

"He said he doesn't know anything about permits for a condo."

"Yeah, he would say that. Look, Maggie, he's a dude. And he's a freaking actor. It's his job to make people believe stuff that isn't even real. He probably doesn't know difference between the truth and a lie anymore."

"Yeah, you're probably right. But he said something else, Janine."

"Don't let him pull anything over on you, Maggie. I know you have feelings for him, but—"

"No, it's not about the land. It's about something else."

"What?"

"He told me that a reporter asked him about me today … that they referred to me as an old flame."

"Yeah, so?"

"You're the only person I told about that kiss, Janine. I never told another person."

"Oh, wow, Maggie. I'm so sorry."

"What? Who did you tell?"

"Oh God, I feel like such an asshole now. There was this woman at work, one of the paralegals. I didn't actually say anything, but … well, she was going on and on about Shane Holloway and how incredibly hot he is and how she couldn't believe that he was living on the island again and blah blah blah. So, I told her that I had a friend who knew him really well and she asked 'how well' and … well, I didn't say anything specific, but I didn't not say anything either."

"What? What do you mean?"

"God, I feel like such a shit. I don't know … I guess I sort of raised my eyebrows a couple times. I honestly didn't expect her to tell anyone else. Jesus, I'm gonna call her in here. That is so freaking unprofessional. Of both of us."

"No, no, whatever. It's all done now."

"No way, Maggie. I'm gonna make sure she doesn't tell anyone else."

"Well, if one reporter knows, then I'm guessing it's not up to her any more who else finds out."

"God, you're right. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I don't know, being anywhere near someone who's a celebrity does weird things to you. I'm not that kind of person, Maggie. You know me."

"Yeah, I do. And I'm not mad. I mean, Shane thinks I lied to him, but whatever because he actually did lie to me."

"Yeah, and I'd say his lie is way bigger."

"Well, I'm not interested in ranking lies or anything. To me a lie is a lie and even a little one can wipe out all of the trust you have in a person."

"Yeah, I hear you. Don't take it so hard, Mags. Just try and forget about him. There are plenty of other guys out there."

"Yeah, but the problem is they don't live on this island."

"That's true. Listen, why don't we go out and get a drink tonight. It might do you some good to have a little fun, maybe do some dancing. Forget about Shane for a while."

"I don't think so, Janine. I think I just want to stay in, probably for about a month straight."

"Come on, don't let this one experience shut you down. You're an awesome woman and you're going to find a guy that doesn't lie, I promise."

"Yeah, sure. I'm gonna go. I'll talk to you later."

"Okay. Call me if you need anything, all right?"

"I will."

I hung up the phone and fell backward onto the couch. Janine was right. I needed to forget about Shane. I should never have agreed to go out with him to begin with. I should have known there was no way, after ten years of spending all his time around supermodels and beautiful actresses, that he could fall for someone like me.

I didn't understand how I was supposed to forget about him, though. After all these years of playing our kiss over and over in my head—actually feeling it in every inch of my body—and then what happened last night and this morning, I just couldn't forget. When I thought about all of it I felt like my heart was being ripped out of my body.

Chapter 10

Shane

She hung up on me. I couldn't believe she actually hung up on me. And she didn't even deny that she lied to me. She was actually trying to give me some freaking excuse and was treating me like I was the bad guy. I didn't want to jump to conclusions about Maggie, but I couldn't believe the way she was acting. What the hell?

I replayed the conversation we'd just had over and over in my head, and what she said about the land didn't make any sense at all. I didn't know where she'd gotten her information, but it felt like we were talking about two completely different deals.

"Hey, Frank, it's me again."

"What's up? Did that reporter get ahold of you?"

"Yeah, she did. It was a quick interview. That's not what I'm calling about, though. I just talked to someone … someone who knows one of the lawyers who's working on the land deal …"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, and they told me something that sounded really weird."

"Well, this is supposed to be a completely private deal. If there are people talking then they probably don't even know what they're talking about."

"That's why I'm asking you, Frank. You've been to the meetings and I've stayed away because it's not really my thing. But what I heard … it just can't be right."

"What's that?"

"That the permit applications that have been submitted are for condos. Is that true?"

"Well, I'll have to check on that. You know how they are down at those county offices. Maybe they got the permits mixed up."

"Can you send me everything that's gone through so far—all the paperwork?"

"Oh, come on, you don't need to worry yourself with all that. I've got your back, Shane."

"I know. You've always taken care of the business end for me, but I'd really like to take a look at everything. I want to be able to actually answer questions about this whole deal if someone asks me."

"Well, I'm gonna have to get everything together. That'll take a few days. Then I can have it all messengered over to you."

"Messengered? No, I'll just come over there. I've got a scanning app on my phone, it'll take no time at all."

"Well, now's not a real good time for me, Shane. I've got some other stuff going on."

"Okay, well let me know when you're going to be free."

Frank didn't say anything for a moment and I almost asked if he was still there, but when he started talking again he sounded strange. Almost irritated.

"What's this all about? Don't you trust me anymore, man? All I've ever done is look out for your best interest."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that, I had a conversation with someone a little while ago and it's gotten me really upset. I want to believe that everything is what you say it is, but I really just need to see for myself. You understand, don't you?"

"Look, Shane …"

"What?"

"This whole deal, it's about more than finding a nice place for you and your family to live. You're at a point in your life where you need to be thinking about making investments for your future. You're not gonna be an A-lister forever."

"I know that."

"I'm trying to look out for you for the long term here, Shane. That's what this whole deal is about."

"Yeah, I get that. I agree. I need to start thinking about all that stuff. And I appreciate everything you're doing for me. But why are you telling me this after I asked to see the paperwork? That's all I'm asking right now."

"I just want you to know that, while it might not seem like it initially, everything I've done with this deal is to ensure that you have plenty of money coming in twenty or thirty years down the road."

"Why do I have a feeling that you're about to tell me something I'm not going to like?"

"All right, I did put in for a multi-dwelling unit permit."

"What for?"

"Look, this land … it's worth a freaking hell of a lot of money, Shane. More than I even dreamed before we made the initial offer. You're going to be spending a lot of money for a place to put a couple of houses with tons of room left over."

"It's my money, Frank. I can do whatever the hell I want with it."

"And I'm not arguing with you about that. I'm just saying that, if you sold off a small part of it, you could make a whole lot of money. I mean a lot."

"That's not what I wanted Frank. Not at all."

"I know, buddy, that's why I didn't say anything to you about it. I wanted to check it out first, and see how feasible it would be."

"What do you mean check it out first? There's nothing to check out. No part of that property is for sale."

"Just wait a minute. Listen to me, this is an opportunity for you to make all of your money back—"

"I want to see all the documents that have been submitted to the lawyers, Frank. I'm coming over right now."

"Shane, come on! What do you want all that land for anyway?"

"What do I want it for? I want the land so that assholes that want to build a freaking condo or resort on it can't get their goddamned hands on it! That's what I want it for! I want to see everything that I've signed off on, Frank. Now!"

"Look, it's already done, man."

"What?"

"I took an offer."

"What offer."

"An offer from some group in Europe. They only want a small plot, just enough for one building and some access rights."

"And you did this? Behind my back?"

"I told you, Shane. I'm looking out for you. This is for your future!"

"The only person you're looking out for is yourself, Frank. I didn't ask for this. If you really had my best interest in mind, you would have talked to me about it first."

"You would have said no, we both know that."

"Yeah, but that's still my decision, not yours. And what are you getting out of all this? Huh? How much are you making off this deal?"

"Not anywhere near what you are! Seriously, this is a multi-million dollar deal!"

"You're fired, Frank."

"What? You gotta be kidding me! What the hell are you gonna do without me, Shane? Do you know how much I take care of for you? Do you know how many people want to get their grubby mitts all over you and your money? I'm the one that takes care of it all! Me! And this is the thanks I get?"

"Don't give me that shit. You knew you could talk to me about anything. The fact that you didn't doesn't sit very well with me at all. I really thought I could trust you. You were the only one left."

"You can trust me. I'm the same person who's taken care of you all these years. You're like a brother to me."

"If this is the way you'd treat your brother, I don't need one. I'm serious, Frank. You're gone. Get all of my paperwork together for the deal and send it over to my house now. I'm freezing all my accounts so don't even try to make any withdrawals."

"Aw, man, you know I wouldn't do that!"

"Do I? I can't even think right now. Just send me what I asked for and we can iron out the rest next week."

"Look, Shane, I set up this deal! You need me to finish it! I was the one that found the goddamned land in the first place. What the hell?"

"You shouldn't have tried to mess with me, Frank. You know how I feel about this sort of thing. Did you really think I'd just gloss over the fact that you lied?"

"First of all, I didn't lie. And second of all, yes! As a matter of fact I did! I was pretty fucking sure that when you saw how much money I made you, you'd be kissing my goddamed feet!"

"Goodbye, Frank."

I hung up the phone and immediately called my accountant. Frank gave the orders on what to do with the money, but my accountant actually did the work, so all I had to do was tell him what to do and Frank was taken off everything.

When I got off the phone with the accountant I was shaking. I sat there in my perfect house in the perfect spot I'd been dreaming about for years, and I was falling apart. I couldn't believe I'd let this happen again. I couldn't believe that there was no one left—not a single person in the world other than my parents—that I could trust. I didn't understand how people did it. How they found honest people to work for them that weren't trying to take them for every dime.

But it wasn't just having someone to trust to take care of my business for me. It was having someone I could trust and fall in love with. I didn't know how that was ever going to happen. How I was ever going to be able to find a woman that wasn't after me for surface bullshit. I wanted someone who wanted the real Shane Holloway—not the actor. I had been dying to be the person that was locked up inside me, the one that I hadn't shown to anyone for years.

I really thought I could be that person with Maggie. When I looked into her eyes this morning I really thought I'd finally found someone I could believe in. I felt like the walls inside me were melting with every kiss and every smile. I'd fooled myself into thinking that fate had brought me back to this island and to that restaurant where we ran into each other. But really this had all been some sick joke that the universe was playing on me.

All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and hide for a week, but I had to straighten out this land deal. There was no way I was going to let anyone get their hands on a shred of that land, especially if they were going to build a tourist destination. I could see it now. A building that was a minimum of ten stories—probably more like twenty or thirty—sticking up out of that gorgeous forest, which would probably be privatized, so that the public couldn't even use those beaches anymore. A freaking nightmare.

Since it was Sunday, and there wasn't much I could do until the following day, I did wind up crawling into bed. I got under the covers and stared out the massive windows at the amazing view of the ocean, wishing more than anything that my life was simple again. Like it had been before I became the Shane Holloway.

I thought about calling Maggie. She was the only person I could even fathom talking to, but I couldn't stomach making the call. Everything seemed so pointless now.

I don't know how many times I picked up the phone to call her over the next few weeks. It made me incredibly sad that she hadn't responded to the messages I'd left, but I could understand why. If she really thought I'd lied to her about the land … well, I knew exactly how important it was to her. But I wasn't going to give up. As soon as everything was finalized I was going to track her down and show her exactly how honest my intentions had been from the start.

I watched the cove every chance I could. Sometimes I would sit out there for hours, staring out at the trees and the ocean—every once in a while looking through the telescope to see if she was there. I wasn't even sure if I'd try to go down there and talk to her. But she never came back.

I knew this wasn't the end, though. I could feel it. I knew that there was a reason we'd run into each other twice, and so soon after I'd returned to the island. I had to believe there was a future for Maggie and me, because if there wasn't, the universe had played a pretty sick joke on both of us.

Chapter 11

Maggie

"Hey, Maggie!"

I heard my name and turned to see Janine waving at me from across the park. I waved back from where I sat on one of my regular benches where I usually ate lunch.

"Hey, Janine. How's it going?"

"Good. So did you hear?"

"Hear what?"

"About the land, that whole deal with Shane Holloway."

"No, is it done? Did he buy the land?"

I was really curious about what had happened. I hadn't talked to Shane since that last conversation. I saw that he'd called me a few times, but I just couldn't bring myself to call him back. I really needed to get over this in my own way.

I spent my days getting through the hours at work until I could duck out and hide myself away in my apartment. Once there, I would while away my nights watching movies and cooking for myself. I didn't even go out with Janine even though she begged me almost every Friday. I needed time to figure things out for myself. I didn't even go anywhere near the land that Shane was buying, or the cove. It all reminded me of him now, and thinking about Shane and the night we spent together was still too painful.

I didn't understand how I could have misread everything. There were times during these last few weeks, when I was alone in my dark bedroom, that I wanted so badly to call him. I thought about the sweetness and sincerity in his eyes and tears would roll down my cheeks into my ears. I couldn't fathom someone being that good at lying, even an actor.

I'd always thought of myself as very perceptive. It wasn't something I'd ever tried to do—see through a person's facade, practically into their soul—but it happened sometimes. There were times when I felt that I knew a person just by looking in their eyes. And in that moment in Shane's bed, I really thought I knew him. I thought he was truly the one for me. Goddamnit, I felt it, and I thought he did too. But now, not only did I not trust him, but I didn't trust myself anymore either. And that was the hardest thing to accept.

I wasn't even sure if I wanted to hear anything Janine had to say about him, but I listened anyway.

"Well, remember how I told you that suddenly no one in the office was talking about the deal at all? Like no one. It was so weird."

"Yeah, that was about a month ago. What happened?"

"Well, from what I found out today, whoever leaked that info about the permits was fired, and ever since then everyone's lips have been sealed up tighter than Fort Knox."

"Wow, that's interesting. So everything was finalized today?"

"Yeah, yesterday or today," Janine said, picking at her sandwich. "It's all over with, so my friend who was in on the case was free to talk about it. Apparently, the deal started out with Shane's manager, Frank Jennings. He's the one that put the deal together in the first place and was present at all the meetings. But about a month ago, Shane Holloway started attending the meetings and Frank Jennings's name was taken off all of the documents. So my friend is pretty sure that there was something fishy going on with his manager."

"Going on? Like what?"

"Whatever the original deal was that Frank Jennings had put together, was apparently not okay with Shane Holloway. The documents were all redrawn and different permit applications were submitted. I think Frank was the one trying to put the condo thing through on some kind of side deal."

"You're kidding. Without Shane knowing about it?"

"That's the way it looks."

"That's crazy! How did he think he was going to be able to get away with it?"

"I have no idea. Once Shane stepped in, they didn't discuss the previous deal at all. But from what my friend said, it definitely changed."

"Wow, I feel bad for Shane. He told me that his manager was one of the only people in the world he felt like he could trust."

"Yeah, well, I guess money does weird things to people."

"Yeah, unfortunately."

"I saw him, you know."

"Shane?"

"Yeah. He asked me about you."

"Really? What did you say?"

"That you were doing really well. I told him about the misunderstanding."

"Janine, you didn't! I don't need you running around cleaning things up for me!"

"Well, it didn't look like you were going to be doing any of that yourself. Besides, I really felt terrible. I told him it wasn't your fault at all."

"What did he say?"

"That he'd like to see you. I think he meant it, Maggie. I could see it in those drop dead, gorgeous eyes of his."

I didn't say anything. I just sat there and watched the birds in the park pick tiny bits of bread up off the ground. "When was that?"

"Today. Just now. He's sitting over there," Janine said as she pointed across the park. "He seems like a really good guy, Maggie. You should go talk to him. You've been moping around for entirely too long."

My heart started pounding in my chest when I looked where Janine was pointing and I saw him. I didn't exactly see him. He was too far away, but I saw a man sitting on a bench and I knew it had to be him. There was a small crowd of people standing around, shaking his hand.

"Go over there and talk to him."

I looked at Janine and smiled. "Okay. How do I look?" I said as I stood up and straightened my dress.

"You look gorgeous, Maggie. You always do."

"Okay, okay, that's enough. All right, I guess I'll talk to you later,"

"Have fun."

I turned and held up my hand, waving goodbye to Janine, then made my way across the grassy field. With every step I took closer to Shane, I could feel my heart pounding harder and harder in my chest. I'd been so silly to think that I could just make my mind up to get over him and that it would happen. I hadn't stopped thinking about him since that night we spent together. Hell, I hadn't stopped thinking about him for over ten years. Longer than that.

As I approached the bench, Shane looked up and smiled. "I was hoping I'd see that beautiful face of yours."

I felt my cheeks get hot and looked down at my feet while I sat down on the bench next to him.

"Hi, Shane. How's everything going?"

"Good. Everything's going great, actually. I was hoping I'd get a chance to talk to you because I really wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For that conversation we had on the phone. If you hadn't called me a liar, I don't know if I would have ever found out that my manager was taking advantage of me. You did me a huge favor, Maggie."

"Oh, Shane, I'm so sorry about that. I really wish I could take everything I said back now. I was horrible to you."

"No, you weren't. You were being honest with me, and I appreciate that. A lot."

"Janine just told me what happened with your manager. I feel terrible for you."

"Don't. It's all fine now. Really."

"But you told me you had such a hard time trusting people."

"I did. But this whole experience was a really good lesson for me. I realized that I could handle the real estate deal on my own and that the world didn't crumble down around me because someone lied to me. It was really good for me, Maggie. It actually made me a lot stronger."

"Wow, that's an incredible way to look at it."

"Well, it's a hell of a lot better than looking at it like I'm a victim and have no control over my life."

"Yeah, I'll bet. So, there are no condos, right?"

"No, no condos. That was all Frank. Apparently he had a side deal going with some group who wanted a small piece of land to build on. He really thought that, once the deal was done, I'd be okay with the fact that he lied because he made me some money. The thing is, he really did see it as an opportunity for me—for both of us. But it was the fact that he went behind my back, that he tried to make a deal that I would have never even considered."

"Building the condos?"

"Yeah, I mean, one of the reasons I wanted to buy this land in the first place is to make sure that something like that couldn't happen."

"Well, I'm really glad it worked out for you."

"Me too." He paused for a moment, then continued on. "I meant what I said, Maggie."

"About what?"

"About wanting you involved in the whole process."

"Really? You still do? After everything that happened?"

"Yeah, of course. Why not?"

"Well, I wasn't exactly one-hundred-percent honest with you. I mean, I really hadn't told anyone about us in all those years, but—"

"Yeah, Janine told me. I really don't care about that anymore, Maggie. It's taken me a little while, but I know that you're an honest person. It didn't take me too long to figure out that, in the grand scheme of things, me being upset about you telling someone that we kissed was incredibly silly."

"I'm glad you feel that way. I felt terrible about how it all came out."

"I looked for you, you know."

"Where?"

"On the beach, in the cove. Every night I would look out there with that telescope to see if you were walking on the beach. I never saw you."

"I couldn't go back there."

"Why?"

I looked up at Shane and I could feel my eyes welling up, but I didn't care. I was tired of trying to hide how I felt. "Because that place … it reminds me of you. It's special to me for a lot of reasons, but mostly because of you."

Shane took my face in his hands and brought his lips to mine, softly at first, but then crushing them with a passion that took my breath away. "Let's go out there now."

"Where? The cove?"

"Yeah, I want to be out there with you. It's ours now, Maggie. Really ours."

I didn't have any meetings in the afternoon, so I called in and told them I'd be out for the rest of the day. I'd never done that before, but I didn't care. I could barely think straight after that kiss and I knew I wouldn't have been able to get any work done for the rest of the day anyway.

"I've missed this place so much," I said as we walked along the edge of the water, the waves softly washing over our feet. "I don't think I've spent this much time away in my entire life."

"What do you think about putting our house right over there, just past the tree line?"

"Really? Do you think we can?"

"We can do anything we want. This is our land now."

"So this cove will be ours? It won't have public access anymore?" I had to admit the idea made me a little sad. I couldn't imagine if I were one of the people who wouldn't be able to access this cove ever again.

"Well, that was my plan. I figured I'd leave the rest of the beach all along the coast as public land. Maybe even create a park or sanctuary out of the land that borders the coast. There are hiking trails that lead down there, so there will be plenty of space for anyone to explore. What do you think?"

"I have to admit, the thought of having the cove just to ourselves would be amazing, but I don't want to take it away from anyone. I want to share the beauty with the people who come here. Maybe we could keep the property around the houses separate, maybe back a little so that we have all the privacy we need, but keep the cove open."

"I think that's a great idea. You're so amazing, Maggie. I don't know what I'd do if I didn't have you here to help me with this."

Shane held my face in his hands and stared into my eyes and I felt like we were both eighteen again. It was like no time had passed at all, except that now I knew how he felt about me. When his lips touched mine I couldn't control myself any longer. I wanted him right here on this beach. I wanted to feel the ocean breeze and smell the tropical forest and hear the waves crashing while we made love in this very spot.

Shane threw down a blanket I had in my car and we fell down on top of it. He got on top of me and pulled my skirt up while he kissed his way up my legs. I couldn't believe we were actually going to make love in a public place like this, but the cove was completely deserted, as usual. It felt so naughty, but so incredibly perfect.

When Shane had made his way up to my panties he pulled them down, leaving my skin exposed to the air. As he pushed my thighs apart, I unbuttoned my blouse, then I unhooked my bra and pulled both it and the shirt off. I loved the feeling of the cool breeze rushing around my naked skin, as well as the warmth of Shane's mouth as it closed in around my clit.

I squirmed with delight, gyrating my hips into Shane while he gripped my ass, pulling me into him as if he wanted to devour me. When I glanced down, I watched him pull his shirt up, then off over his head. When his eyes met mine, they were filled with an animal intensity that made me gasp.

Chapter 12

Shane

When I stopped to rip off my shirt, I saw Maggie looking down at me and a wave of desire pulsated through me. Not that I wasn't already almost mad with lust for her body while my face was buried between her gorgeous thighs, but seeing her eyes—the deep beauty of them while they were on me—flooded me with a passion for her entire being that I'd never experienced before.

I wanted everything about her to be mine, and for every inch of her to be as close to me as physically possible. If if were possible for me to completely surround her, I would have done just that at that moment. But more than that intense desire of possessing her completely, I wanted to make her come. I wanted to watch her face as she reached the moment of her climax, knowing that I was the one who had brought that pleasure to her.

I went back to that glistening pussy of hers, dipping my face down so that my mouth covered as much as possible, while I slipped two fingers inside her. I heard that deep, throaty groan escape from her lips as my fingers rubbed up against her sensitive g-spot. As I thrust my fingers against that spongy mound inside her, I could feel the pressure build up.

I continued to suck furiously as my mouth enveloped every inch of Maggie's warm and wet cavern. Her body felt like it was opening up to me a little more with each thrust of my fingers, and when her back arched and her legs went rigid I knew I had her. I didn't stop—didn't change a thing I was doing—and after a moment of silence all hell broke loose.

A low moan came from deep inside her, but quickly grew in volume and intensity as if she was being completely overcome with the sensations she was experiencing. Suddenly she pressed herself into me firmly and a gush of sweet and salty liquid flooded out of her. It caught me by surprise at first, but when the realization of what was happening hit me full force, I almost couldn't contain my excitement.

I could tell by the continued deepening of her moans that I had brought her to a place of incredible pleasure, but she still wasn't pushing me away. That was the cue I'd always taken in the past to know when a woman was ready for me to stop, but Maggie kept gyrating her pussy into me, so I didn't stop.

It wasn't long at all, though, before I felt another wave of intensity course through her body. She tensed again, then went silent, and finally wrapped her legs around my head. It was the most amazing moment of my life, knowing that I'd just made her come twice. I felt like I'd cracked the secret of the universe as I waited for her to push me away.

When she did, I unzipped my pants as quickly as possible and positioned myself on top of her. Maggie's eyes were still closed and she had the most peaceful look on her face, a smile curling up on the sides of her mouth. I watched that smile turn into an open-mouthed look of sheer ecstasy as I slid my cock inside her throbbing pussy.

She felt unbelievable. Her incredibly tight walls hugged my cock as it drove into her, squeezing me tight with each contraction that lingered in her quaking body. I couldn't take my eyes off of her. I kept myself balanced on top of her, so that I could hover over her and observe each change in her face. I also didn't want to miss a second of those amazing eyes of hers once she opened them.

As I continued to thrust myself into her—each stroke bringing me closer to losing complete control—I couldn't help but allow myself to disappear in the sensation of her entire body as it touched mine. The soft skin of her stomach and legs, and the way her thighs squeezed my sides while they encircled me. The incredible feel of her full breasts as they jiggled underneath me with each of my thrusts. Everything about the moment was hypnotic and mesmerizing—the sounds of the ocean and the feel of the breeze and Maggie's body against mine.

Finally, what I'd been waiting for happened. Maggie opened her eyes and those gorgeous blue pools lay before me. They seemed so deep that I felt like I could fall into them and lose myself in them forever. As I felt wave after wave of her energy build in me, the entire world around us dropped away and all I could see was Maggie.

"Oh, God, Shane!" Maggie yelled. It was something I'd wanted to hear for so long. Knowing that I was inside of her and was bringing her so much pleasure. "Shane, you feel so amazing!"

I felt her arms and legs wrap tight around me as I came. I shook uncontrollably, burying my face in Maggie's hair, and feeling as if everything inside me was emptying out, on display for the world to see. But it was just me and her, and for the first time in my life I felt like I had found the person I could be completely vulnerable with. I wanted to stay with her like that forever.

When I opened my eyes she was smiling up at me, her entire face glowing. "God, you're so beautiful, Maggie."

Then her face turned that incredible shade of pink and she looked away, but still smiled. If I could make her blush like that for the rest of my life, I'd be the luckiest man in the world.

"We should probably get dressed," she said in that sexy, deep voice of hers.

I rolled off of her and watched her fix her clothes while I pulled mine on. Then I grabbed her and held her close to me. I didn't even know if I had the words to express to her how amazing that moment was between the two of us. It was as if she had unlocked something inside me that had been closed off for a long time.

"Maggie …" She looked up at me so sweetly, with smiling eyes that waited to hear the words I was wanting to say to her. "Maggie, I love you."

She turned to me and put her hands on my face, then touched her perfect lips to mine so softly that I could have sworn that they were made of silk. "I love you, Shane. I always have. Ever since that first kiss. I've never stopped hoping that, somehow, we would come back here together."

I lay there for a long time, just holding her and feeling her lips on my skin and her fingers as they pushed through my hair. "I feel so incredibly lucky. For such a long time I felt cursed somehow. Like I would never be able to trust another person—that my need to be an actor had ruined my chances at being happy in any other area of my life. But now, I just can't believe that all this is mine—this land, and you. And I know that everything in my life has led me here, to this moment. That I'm going to be a big part of keeping this amazing place available to anyone who wants to experience it. If it hadn't been for my acting career—and even my manager—it wouldn't have been possible. And you too, Maggie."

I turned my head and looked up at the sky and noticed the first stars just appearing. It all looked so vast and amazing and made me feel even more lucky that I'd found my place here.

"The sky looks so amazing right now," Maggie said as she squeezed her arms around me. "There's still color from the sun going down, but the moon and stars are visible too."

"I've never seen a sky that looked exactly like this, not since that night we were here together."

"It's so amazing, Shane. I'm so glad we're here together."

"When we live here we can come out and look at the stars like this every night."

"I'd really love that."

We picked up the blanket and made the trip back to the car while there was still a bit of light in the sky. Then we headed back to the house on the edge of the property.

Maggie stayed there with me until our house was built. She quit her job, on my insistence. She didn't seem to like it very much anyway. She helped me find another manager, someone who worked with her friend Janine and who they both seemed to trust. It felt good putting some of that work back into someone else's hands, and it allowed me to spend more time on things that were more important to me. On Maggie and the house we would be living in together.

She helped me design it, our house. I smiled every time I thought those words. We had my parents out to discuss what they wanted, made all the arrangement, then watched the construction from the telescope on the patio.

Every morning we would get up and see what progress had been made through the telescope on the balcony. And after that we would make love, sometimes right out there.

"I'm going to miss this a little," she said one time as the morning sun warmed our naked bodies. "Making love on this balcony."

"Don't worry," I said as I kissed her head. "We'll find a spot down there that's just as amazing."

We were married in the cove a few weeks after we moved into our new home. It was a very small gathering in the cove at sunset—that perfect time when the sky changed color and the stars were just starting to come out. That night the sky turned brilliant red and stayed that way until the ceremony was over. I'd never seen such a beautiful sight in my life. Maggie, with her beautiful, blue eyes and the intense red sky behind her. She said the same thing, and she's lived here her whole life.

Now we go out to the beach every night to watch the sun set. It's always incredible, but I'll never forget the way she looked on our wedding night under the starry sky.

The End

About the Author

JB Duvane writes about tortured billionaires, bad boys with secret desires, and men with a dark past. She loves them all - ranging from hired killers to serial killers to the non-lethal variety of bad boy. After all, she wants to make sure everyone has their HEA.

If you are interested in receiving news about new releases please visit her website:

http://jbduvane.com/

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Cold and Hottie

Jan O’Hara

What fresh hell is this, mon?

A decade ago, in a messy breakup with the only man she has ever loved, Olivia Prosser behaved badly. She has lived with the consequences since in a decent-if-uninspiring life.

Then bad news comes in rapid succession. The company she works for has been purchased; her ex, Finn Wakefield, is her new boss; and she must attend a retreat in Jamaica, supervised by Finn and a half-crazy psychologist. One week filled with forced intimacy and corporate-speak, not to mention memories better left in the past.

A white knight’s armor will rust in salt water.

For years and with ample justification, Finn Wakefield has placed the blame for his breakup with Liv squarely on her shoulders. Then new information comes to light. Not only might Liv be innocent, the party who framed her might be continuing their sabotage from within Wakefield’s newest acquisition.

But Liv shows no interest in righting the wrongs of the past. Is that because she is over Finn? Or because she has reason to protect the saboteur? Either way, he can’t let it go. For the sake of his company and his heart, in the guise of team solidarity, Finn will push for the truth.

For Cathy and Jerry

Chapter 1

Liv

At 4:37 p.m. on Friday, after weeks of dread and just when I’ve convinced myself I’ve been spared, a dossier bearing the title Jamaica lands on my desk. Tucker had probably been aiming for my in-basket, but since he’s standing in my doorway and the basket is overflowing, the folder tips over the edge and continues its horizontal motion. It comes to rest on the refinery drawings I’ve been marking up, the right lower edge touching a pump that needs modernization.

When I find my voice I say, “You’re kidding me.”

Tucker’s smile is his signature blend of cynicism and amusement. “If you pull yourself together and need to talk, I’ll be in my office for another five minutes.” He pivots on a well-shod foot and vanishes from sight.

I turn the pencil in my hand and use the eraser to tease out the top sheaf of paper, willing this to be one of his practical jokes. Easy enough to put a label on a folder and pack it with documents destined for the shredder. Then to stand in the hall just out of sight, ready to pop in with a, Haha, Liv, got you good this time.

Alas, this evening brings no such luck. For there in black and white, issued in the name of one Olivia Prosser, is an e-ticket for this coming Monday morning. I’m flying from Columbus to Kingston, via Atlanta.

I use the pencil to extract the next sheaf. Apparently the resort and I have corresponded, most recently when I confirmed an ocean-facing, non-smoking room with a king-sized bed.

At least I was smart enough to avoid having a roommate.

I close my eyes and bend forward to clunk my head repeatedly on my desk. Having seen fellow staffers open their envelopes, I don’t need to examine the rest of the paperwork to know what it contains. There will be a shiny brochure on the all-inclusive resort’s amenities. (Seven pools! Six restaurants featuring international cuisine! Unlimited soft drinks and booze in your room’s mini-fridge!) There will be a listing of optional paid activities, both inside the resort and on the island. Finally, there will be the handout delineating the source of my dry mouth and blossoming headache.

I don’t need to look at the handout but…I stop banging my head and do it anyway, because some masochistic impulses can’t be resisted.

Three months ago, the company I work for, HMZ Consulting, was purchased by Wakefield Enterprises. When I say “purchased,” I really mean “swallowed whole.” We were the krill to Wakefield’s blue whale. Now the time has come for us to “harmonize our corporate cultures.” Accordingly, for the past several months, select employees within my office have been receiving invitations to the upcoming retreat in Jamaica. Once trained in the ways of the mothership, they—and I guess that includes me now—will return as ambassadors to the home office, where we will spread the ways of enlightenment.

Most of the five-day retreat will be run by Wakefield’s second-in-command, Yolanda Perez. The brochure photo shows a woman in her early forties with tight black braids and a confident smile. She’s a psychologist, reportedly half-crazy in her own right, and the rumors about her outdoor group exercises are downright intimidating.

Then there’s the CEO, Finnegan Wakefield. I don’t know if his photo has been retouched, but thirty-four looks good on him. Even better than twenty-four did, if that’s possible.

Finn is giving the Tuesday noon keynote—one hour is his full commitment for the entire program. Depending upon how he receives me, that one hour could be all it takes to upend my life.

I seize the dossier and jam all the papers back inside, then locate my shoes under the desk.

Tucker looks up when I enter his office. He has already put away all his paperwork and is shrugging on his suit jacket.

“How long have you had this?” I ask, brandishing the file.

“It came the same day as mine.”

So six weeks then. You bastard is the phrase that springs to mind, but since Tucker is sensitive to that particular wording, I restrain myself to a growl. “How did you get it?”

I’m at work a good hour before he arrives in the morning, and easily another hour after he leaves for the day. Since he darn well didn’t take the dossier from my desk, that means he’ll have co-opted one of the clerical staff in his scheme—perky, blonde Katrina in the mailroom, if I had to guess.

Before he can reply, I throw up a hand. “Never mind. I don’t want to hear it.” Where Tucker’s concerned, it’s often better not to be too inquisitive. “Anyway, you waited too long to tell me. I can’t go. There’s the Fairchild meeting next week.”

“Amy’ll cancel and reschedule.” He opens his corner wardrobe to extract his overcoat. “It’s not like they were flying in.”

“Hello?” I tap my wristwatch. “She’s gone for the weekend. Everybody’s gone.”

He smirks as he shrugs on the coat. “Guess you’ll cancel it then. His assistant should be reachable if you hustle.”

“What about the Barker project? No way I can make the deadline if I’m away for a business week.”

“The resort has WiFi.”

Meaning that I’ll spend all day in the rah-rah false intimacy of team-building exercises, and my nights on office work. Super.

I turn my back on him with a huff and fold my arms over my chest. Two stories below, my fellow Buckeyes shiver and shuffle through the falling snow, getting an early start to the weekend. I wish I were among them.

Tucker comes up behind me. When he settles his hands on my shoulders, I shrug them off. “Look, Liv, if I could have spared you, I would’ve. You know that, right? And it’s not like we haven’t worked out a strategy to deal with this all.”

This is true. Tucker has his own reasons to be worried about his job. In the summer we three spent together, he and Finn got along like proverbial oil and water. We had decided the best plan was for Tucker to attend the retreat, but become the Jamaican equivalent of beige wallpaper.

“Besides, let’s be honest, you’d have been a mess if you’d known this was coming.”

I set my jaw and feed him a look over my shoulder.

“You wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on the Handel account—”

“What a horror,” I say dryly.

“—and the fractionator would have fallen through the cracks.”

I raise a finger and make a small twirling motion.

“Plus you’d have been starving yourself to try to lose the fifteen pounds.”

I swing around and glare at him. “Sometimes I really hate you.”

“Only sometimes?” he says mildly. “I’m getting lax.” He winds a powder-blue scarf around his neck. Rebecca in HR once said she liked how it brought out the color of his eyes, and it has been a perennial favorite since. “Besides, you know you’re going to see him eventually—Mr. Bigshot Corporate Raider in his custom-made suit—though I’ll always remember he looked and smelled just like me after shoveling cow shit.”

Tucker’s bitterness has such a fresh edge I wonder if I’ve missed something. “Have you seen him, then?” As an engineer, Tucker attends all manner of high-level meetings that a technologist wouldn’t be invited to.

He chucks me under the chin. “I’d have told you if I had. I was referring to the pictures on the company’s website. It’s obvious Finn drops a bundle on his clothes.”

By biting my tongue I refrain from pointing out that Tucker has been known to indulge in sartorial elegance himself, his coat being the latest example.

As for the larger argument, a corner of me knows he’s right. If I’m to continue to work for Wakefield—and with my situation I simply have to—it’s only a matter of time until I run into Finn. Better to rip off the Band-aid in a time and place of my choosing rather than wait on tenterhooks for months, or possibly years.

“Okay. I’ll make it work.”

Tucker nods approvingly. “That’s the spirit, Kibble.”

But as I let myself back into my office and start packing up the drawings I’ll need to take, the enormity of the task seems overwhelming. I’m going to have to pull off the balancing act of a lifetime.

I’m going to have to come across as smart and competent, but not to the point Finn looks too closely at my employment record, or my position within the company. I’ll need to be cool and collected, but not to the point he’ll take my reserve as a challenge. Again.

I’ll have to figure out how not to become the pawn in a power struggle between Finn and Tucker. Like that’s going to happen.

But carry it off… Oh, carry it off, and the potential rewards are huge. Maybe I can repair some of the damage I did the last time we saw one another. Imagine that—Finn able to look at me without revulsion.

The very thought has my throat tightening and my eyes prickling.

And if I’m exceedingly fortunate, not only can we be civil to one another in passing, but I’ll work in an opportunity to show him a photo of my apartment. I think Finn would approve of it. I think he’d be impressed with all its white, pet-free serenity.

Chapter 2

Finn

As the cruiser’s prow sweeps through the water toward the pinks and golds of the Jamaican sunrise, I pump my fist in the air and let out a whoop. My exhilaration earns me understanding smiles from the Larsons, a middle-aged Canadian couple seated to my left, and an eye roll from their prepubescent son. Their daughter, who I’d peg at fourteen, flicks a quick glance at me before returning to play on her phone. But the edges of her mouth creep reluctantly upward.

On the starboard side, I get a dignified nod from the elderly Asian man, and from the rear, a thumbs-up from the grinning captain.

Only the first mate chooses to ignore me. He’s an odd one, that guy—new to the resort, unless I’m mistaken, and one of the few employees who doesn’t function on perma-cheerful. In fact earlier, when he was preparing the rods and bait prior to departure, there was a moment when he eyed me with something approaching hostility.

No matter. Not everyone is cut out for a life pandering to tourists, and what’s one grump on a fantastic morning like this?

An hour later, I have taken up a position as far away from the Larsons as possible, given their amateurish casting. My lure is in the water, the sun a warm presence at my back, and I’m considering cracking open a cold beer to celebrate my wisdom.

It was the right decision to clear my schedule and get out of the resort for a few hours. No matter how beautiful and carefully tended, it was starting to feel like an extension of the office.

Of course, where have I been lately that hasn’t?

Yesterday was consumed by the Board meeting—and yes, it took work, but I managed to conquer the members’ nervousness about the pace of Wakefield’s expansion. At noon, in my keynote, Yolanda expects me to pump up the enthusiasm of our new, nervous employees. Then this afternoon I fly to Milwaukee, to massage the egos of some deep-pocketed investors.

Between the non-stop conquering and pumping and massaging, I’ve been feeling like a corporate gigolo.

My float lies undisturbed on the water, and having decided on a soda instead of the beer, I secure my rod in the holder and decide to show a little community spirit.

“Want a drink, Mr. Lee?” I say to the Asian man to my left. During introductions, he told me to call him Vince, and I’ve addressed plenty of men his age by their first name, but something about him encourages formality.

“Not for me, thanks.”

The surly first mate is to my right, mucking with his fishing rig. It feels odd not to make the same offer to him, so I do. But he shakes his head at me and goes back to muttering at his equipment.

I grab a soda from the bottom of the cooler and return to my spot. When I tip my head back for a long, cold pull on the bottle, both gravity and a gentle breeze send my fishing hat tumbling to the deck. I’m looking at it, deciding whether I’m concerned enough about safety to retrieve it, when there’s a high-pitched whistling sound to my right and a sudden, sharp tug at my ear.

Three things abruptly register: the first mate’s wide, disbelieving eyes, the fishing line which runs from his rod to the vicinity of my head, and that the tension hasn’t let up.

I put my hand up to confirm, but the evidence doesn’t lie. I’ve been hooked.

Liv, I think automatically, before pushing the name away.

I haven’t made a sound. Nonetheless, all over the boat, fishing rods are abandoned and people converge as I become the center of attention.

The captain is nearly overcome with dismay. He shakes his head like he’s palsied, a rim of white showing around his dark irises. “Mr. Wakefield, no. That is not good, sir. Not good at all.”

The first mate’s eyes, while not hostile, are downright cool. “I’m very sorry, mon. But this is why we ask you to wear hats.”

The teenage girl gives a faint scream and claps her hands to her mouth. “Oh my god, that’s disgusting.”

“Says the chick who was talking about a cheek button the other day,” her brother says.

Mrs. Larson’s head swivels in her daughter’s direction. “You were doing what?”

“I told you that in confidence,” the girl says, as her brother smirks.

Mr. Larson—Gary, I think it was—slaps me gently on the shoulder. “I’ll get my family out of your hair while the staff sort you out.” He snags each kid by a sleeve and hauls them down the deck, trailed by his wife. Then they form an animated huddle, casting frequent sympathetic glances in my direction.

The first mate raises a pocket knife near my face. “To cut the line and release the pressure,” he says, making me feel like a dolt for flinching.

When he’s done, the staff retreat to a position near the engine, where they confer in rapid Patois. I can only make out every third or fourth word, but they seem to be debating whether to return to the hotel for medical help, thus ruining the trip for everyone else, or removing the hook themselves.

I’m considering my own preference when Mr. Lee, who has been a quiet observer until now, nods at my ear. “It’s in the cartilaginous part, which has comparatively poor circulation. If it were me, I wouldn’t leave that in a second longer than necessary. Remember, that hook was bathed in raw chum, and who knows what else, given the first mate’s dubious hygiene.”

I nod, then wish I hadn’t when the hook shifts against my skin. As far as I’m concerned, the sooner this humiliation is over with, the better. Then maybe we can get back to our peaceful morning.

“Can you take it out?” I ask him.

He looks at me like I’ve questioned his sanity. “Of course. It’s a matter of simple physics. Look.” He curves one finger like a hook and uses the palm of his other hand to demonstrate. “If you drag it backward toward the entrance wound, it’ll catch and you’ll tear all manner of flesh. But push it through to the other side, like so, and you can cut the barb off with pliers. From there, the extraction is easy.”

“If you’re game, let’s just do it,” I say. Mr. Lee might be in his late seventies, but he radiates competence and calm. There’s no one on the boat I’d trust more.

The creases around his eyes deepen as he subjects me to a shrewd inspection. “Can you handle a little pain?”

“Of course.” It’s on the tip of my tongue to confess what I can’t handle, but I want this over. If I keep my eyes closed and focus on my breathing, I’ll be fine.

My companion nods and springs into action.

Within a few minutes, he has secured the requisite pliers, which have been cleaned in bottled water and now lie soaking in a pan full of rum. My ear has been similarly bathed in the stuff until it stings, and my eyes water from the fumes. I smell like a soused pirate.

Mr. Lee has declared his disdain for the crew’s first aid kit. From the plundered depths of his own messenger bag, he produced a clean field dressing and a tube of antibiotic cream. Somehow he has even located a pair of sterile gloves. He holds his hands upright before me, like a surgeon prepared to operate. “Ready?”

I nod. “Proceed.” I take a deep breath and close my eyes as the gloves advance.

My ear is seized in a firm grasp. There’s a sharp bite of pain, a loud metallic snap behind my right ear, then the dragging pressure is abruptly released. A few seconds later, the fingers return to smooth on cool ointment, I feel the dressing applied, and Mr. Lee pronounces the drama over.

I exhale and open my eyes, being careful to keep my gaze averted from the medical supplies. When I’m sure I’ll be steady on my feet and have heard the shushing sound of Mr. Lee shedding his gloves, I stand and offer my hand. “You are a prince among men. Can I buy you a drink when we’re back on shore?”

“Never touch the stuff.” Vince’s grip is firm and unhurried. “But the offer is much appreciated.”

“Cool party trick, man.” The Larsons have broken their huddle, and the kid has come forward to indulge his curiosity. I see him bend down to the impromptu tray and realize what he’s about to do a second too late.

“No,” I say hastily. “Don’t show me my bl—”

That’s as far as I get before my eyes zero in on the now-dysfunctional lure dangling from his fingers, and the single drop of scarlet anointing its surface.

I try to focus on my breathing but it’s too late. My heart is already slowing of its own accord. Then darkness swoops in from the edges of my vision, like a flock of malevolent bats, and the deck rises for a wooden kiss.

When I claw my way back to consciousness, the warm sun is turning my eyelids pink. There is a mechanical thrumming below me and I am stretched out on my back, on a firm surface. My right ear stings and there’s a new throbbing pain in my forehead. Someone’s fingers probe my wrist.

After a time, I open my eyes and catch the not-unsympathetic gaze of Mr. Lee.

His eyebrows climb. “Hematophobia?”

I sigh. “Unfortunately.” It’s been an unwelcome feature of my life for a good sixteen years.

Since a frustrating experience at the dentist, I’ve been working with a psychologist friend of Yolanda’s to get over it. For the most part I’m better, the notable exception being how I respond to the sight of my own blood. It clearly still has the power to unman me.

“No need for embarrassment,” Mr. Lee says briskly, apparently having added the ability to read my thoughts to his formidable skillset. “It’s a common enough reaction.”

“Maybe, but I interfered with the trip.”

“We were about due to return, anyway. Here—” Mr. Lee holds out his hand. “I stowed the equipment, so you’re safe. Let’s get you up.”

I feel like a total wimp but I accept his help.

“Any dizziness, nausea?” he asks when I am seated. “I caught you in time to avoid the worst, and you weren’t out long, but you’ve got a nasty bump.”

I shake my head and wish I hadn’t when the throbbing increases.

Mrs. Larson comes out of nowhere with a bag of ice, which she presses into my hand. It feels like heaven on my forehead and I give her a grateful smile.

“Thanks for your help again,” I say to Mr. Lee. “I never asked, but are you a medical professional?”

“Former soldier. Listen—” He steps closer and drops his voice until it’s barely audible above the sound of the engine. “I’m not much of a believer in the concept of luck, but did you do something to piss off the gods?”

Not the gods. Liv, I think, before once more pushing away her name. “Not that I know of. Why would you ask?”

“I was by the pool last night. Caught your involuntary dive. Now this, less than a minute after you take off your hat?” He shakes his head. “I heard you’re some kind of bigshot businessman. If I were you, I’d delay any risky investments.”

With that enigmatic statement he wanders to the prow, where he takes up a cross-legged position on a cushion, rests his hands on his knees, and gazes calmly upon the advancing shoreline.

Meanwhile, I sit in the hot sun as gooseflesh erupts on my skin.

There was a time in my life when bad things would happen and I could justifiably think, Liv, in the way a sailor can eye the sunrise and predict a storm, or a rheumatic can anticipate rain by the state of their knees.

But it has been years since that was true. So long, that I’ve forgotten to be suspicious. Even suppressed the inclination rather than live in a state of paranoia—all of which makes it weird that Liv has been on my mind since yesterday.

Besides, even if there is an odd pattern of occurrences, it doesn’t fit her MO. She was never one for going after me directly.

And this is Jamaica, for Pete’s sake. What are the chances she would be here, much less bent on finding new, inventive ways to make my life miserable?

No, I’m absolutely crazy for resurrecting her name in this context. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

On the other hand, Mr. Lee strikes me as an exceptionally rational man who considers me the victim of a conspiring universe. Yet he doesn’t know the half of it…

Yesterday afternoon, in front of the Board, I had to practically dive into a pitcher of water—eyes streaming, lungs threatening to explode—after one sip of my Bloody Mary. Turned out the bartender had been distracted during its preparation and accidentally double-dosed me with Tabasco sauce. Though he apologized profusely, my voice hasn’t recovered from the violence of my coughing.

Then my brand new pair of expensive athletic shorts went missing from the villa’s secure and private patio.

And last night by the pool, I leaned down to talk to Yolanda, consequently putting myself a little off-balance, when a server came by with a tray of drinks. She accidentally hip-checked me, sending me into the water and ruining my Hugo Boss.

Now this—an unwanted ear-piercing at the hand of a theoretically skilled fisherman?

You’re being a dumb-ass to think of her, I tell myself. Bad stuff happens to everyone, and with enough time, this will prove to be a statistically irrelevant cluster.

But now that the idea has entered my mind, I can’t rid myself of it, so though we’re only a few minutes from docking, I decide, Screw it. I’ll prove myself wrong and get on with my day.

I pull my cell from my duffel and the signal’s good enough to connect to the resort manager’s private line. A few minutes later, thanks to the heft of the Wakefield account, which has easily sidelined concerns about guest privacy, I hear the clatter of nails on a keyboard. Marissa is combing the records for one Olivia Prosser.

“Ah-ha,” she says after a minute. “I knew the name sounded familiar. Yes, Mr. Wakefield. She checked in yesterday.”

Despite having been the one to initiate the records search, the last thing I expected was to hear this news. I am totally flummoxed.

Liv is here. Liv is in Jamaica. In this resort. Of all the rum joints in all the world…

“Mr. Wakefield, are you still there?” Marissa asks.

I finally locate my tongue. “Yes.” I clear my throat. “What time did she check in?”

Another pause while her fingers type. “Her keycard was coded for her room at 1:02 p.m. yesterday.”

So the timeline would be tight, but if Liv knew I was here, and if she were so inclined, it would be possible for her to have arranged a string of “coincidences.”

“Is there a problem?” Marissa asks. “I can send out an associate to see if she’s okay.”

I blink. “She’s sick?” Liv’s here and she’s sick?

There’s a lengthy pause and when she speaks, Marissa’s voice has cooled. “I’m confused now, Mr. Wakefield. I assumed you were calling out of concern because she didn’t show.”

“Show where?” I say cautiously.

“At the retreat,” she says.

It takes me a minute to connect the dots. Marissa has been cooperating because she thinks I have some authority over Liv, and Marissa thinks I’m calling to check on Liv’s non-attendance. Which means…as bizarre as it sounds, that Liv is both here in the resort and among our new batch of employees. The HMZ acquisition in Columbus?

I suck in a breath. Of course. Assuming her mom hasn’t moved, that puts Liv within easy driving distance of Stonybrook.

Yolanda would know if Liv is a new Wakefielder. Yolanda probably even sent me an alphabetized list of names, which I saw and promptly ignored because personnel decisions don’t fall under my purview. I’m the money guy. She does people. Other than my pep-rally speech at lunchtime, I won’t have much to do with our staff.

But as Yolanda isn’t here right now, and Marissa awaits further instruction, I decide to go for broke.

“You know what it’s like when you’re training new people,” I say, adding a conspiratorial chuckle for good measure. “Some of them can’t seem to find the ballroom. But we’ll follow up with her. I just need her room number.”

“Of course, Mr. Wakefield.”

There’s a smile in her voice again. She’s relieved she hasn’t inadvertently broken the rules. Good manager, this Marissa. I’ll have to mention her to Yolanda.

“She’s in 304.”

“Excellent. And I’ll need Tucker Acheson’s number, too,” I say, obeying an instinct that comes out of nowhere. But there’s a method to my madness; though it has been ten years, certain things won’t have changed. Whither Liv goest, Tucker won’t be far behind.

“Mr. Acheson is in 210.”

Unreal. Tucker is a Wakefield employee, too. And they are using separate rooms, not that that means anything.

After I thank Marissa and hang up, I check my watch. I have an hour before I’m expected in the ballroom. This morning, when thinking of delivering my keynote, I thought the biggest obstacle I’d need to overcome was an enthusiasm gap on my part. But matters have become considerably more complex. In my audience will be a former nemesis and an ex-lover who once functioned as a stalker. Worse, Liv might be starting up again from within my company.

What the hell am I going to do about her?

Chapter 3

Liv

I race toward the resort’s conference center, ignoring the stares of the curious as I weave between a cluster of bikinied and sandaled women. I can’t blame them for gawking. At 12:30 p.m. on the cobblestone path which runs along the beach, dressed in business attire, I might as well be wearing an astronaut suit—that’s how much I fit in.

But I’m late, and if I don’t hustle, I’m going to miss Finn altogether. Then the sleepless nights, all the worrying and rehearsal for our first meeting, they will be for naught. All because I fell asleep while working on the Barker project.

Stupid Barker project.

My path is blocked by three shirtless men who are headed in the same direction. I detour around them on the lawn only to have to pause and retrace my steps when a heel catches in the grass.

The trio draws abreast of me and stops in order to observe my antics. “What’s your hurry, sister?” says the closest man.

“Someone could use a Jamaican chill pill,” says the guy in the middle. His eyes are a bright blue against a sunburn that’s medical-grade.

“And an eye exam,” says the first. He points to my shoes.

Only then do I notice my pumps don’t match. I brought two pairs of heels to the island—both identical in style, purchased in a buy-one-get-one-off sale at the discount store. And somehow, in my haste to get out the door, I managed to put a brown pump on my left foot and a nude on the right.

For an instant I let my head hang in discouragement and blow out a puff of breath that lifts my bangs.

“Here.” The blonde with the shaggy haircut offers me a plastic cup of amber liquid. “Have my beer. You look like you could use it.”

“If only.” With a wry smile and a wave of thanks, I take off again.

Inside the conference center lobby, it doesn’t look good. There are too many people milling about for a high-powered speech to be underway. Has Finn’s keynote ended already?

I locate the ballroom where they gave us our orientation session yesterday and step cautiously inside. The raised stage is empty, the house lights are up, and a couple of staff members are busy removing AV equipment. There is no sign of Finn.

Maybe fifty or so people remain clustered around banquet tables as servers bustle about, removing soiled dishes and cutlery. Great. I missed lunch, too. Could this be more of a disaster?

I see Tucker at the same time he spots me. He raises his hand and points to the vacant chair beside him.

“Where have you been?” he says in an undertone as I slip into my seat.

Take a wild guess, I want to say. Since Friday, I’ve been so nervous about seeing Finn that I’ve barely slept, and last night was so bad I got up at two to work. My sleep deficit must have caught up with me. I didn’t even hear my phone’s alarm. But rather than risk anyone overhearing, I simply say, “Ugh. Long story. Why didn’t you call me?”

He points to the center of the table, where a wicker basket holds a collection of cell phones.

“Right, I forgot the rules.” I add my phone to the mix and sling my handbag under my chair before nodding to the table’s other inhabitants. I know Jim from Accounting and Marie from Purchasing. The other four faces must belong to Wakefield’s parent company, headquartered in Jacksonville.

I’m about to introduce myself when Tucker says, “You missed Finn. He came here looking for you.”

My stomach does an abrupt flip.

I’d like to know more, but the middle-aged African-American woman to Tucker’s left perks up. “Do you know Mr. Wakefield, honey?” Her name tag says Georgia, and her Southern accent is thicker than Tupelo honey.

During the summer I turned twenty, I thought I did. “We have a mutual acquaintance,” I say, thinking of my mama. “I’m supposed to say hello on her behalf.”

They accept that without comment, which is a relief. If Tucker and I are to remain unremarkable, it won’t help to advertise our prior relationship with Finn.

The group moves on to introductions before apprising me of what I’d missed. Finn had been funny, wise, and encouraging. Also—this comes from an earnest-looking woman named Barb, and earns her eye rolls from Jim and Tucker—he had been hot. Very, very hot.

“Amen, hallelujah,” Georgia says.

I’m spared from having to make a response by Tucker. “You have something on your face.”

It certainly can’t be food, since I haven’t eaten today. Nor makeup, because I haven’t had time to apply any. That leaves a pen mark, or a transfer from the drawing I’d been working on before I woke up in a puddle of drool. From the intensity of Tucker’s expression, I’m betting it’s the latter.

I clap a hand to the offending cheek and scoot my chair back. It’s a breach of company rules to take drawings offsite. Better take care of this now.

“Excuse me,” I say, but when I turn to make my exit, there’s a gentleman blocking my path.

“Ms. Prosser?” He speaks in such a resonant baritone, I would bet he’s a fantastic singer.

“Yes?”

Though most of the resort staff exhibit the permissive and relaxed Yeah, mon philosophy of life, this man is clearly an exception. I’d put him in his late fifties, and something about his carriage and manner—even the crease in his linen pants—suggests I’m in the presence of an old-world butler.

He inclines his head a fraction. “I’m Reginald, with the hotel’s concierge services. I’ve been sent on behalf of Mr. Wakefield, my lady. He requests the honor of your presence.”

“Ooh, honey,” says Georgia, fanning herself. “What did you do to get so lucky?”

The others at the table send each other significant glances.

So much for flying under the radar. I swallow and point to the restroom with the hand not covering my cheek. “Certainly. I’ll just slip into the facilities first.”

“Mr. Wakefield has a restroom.” Reginald’s smile is polite but firm. “And a tight schedule.”

“Okay, then. Guess I’ll follow you.” While I retrieve my purse, I quirk my eyebrows once at Tucker, who widens his eyes in response.

As Reginald leads me out into the sunshine, I pull a makeup wipe from my bag and dab at my cheek. He gallantly pretends not to notice.

This isn’t what I planned for my first meeting with Finn. Not at all. But it’s not like I have a choice. He’s going to have to take me as I am, all mismatched shoes, red-cheeked, and fifteen-pounds-too-much of me.

Maybe it will even work to my advantage down the road, should certain information come to light. Maybe Finn will take one look at me and think, This woman is too dumb and too clueless to have deceived every person in my company.

Chapter 4

Liv

My defiantly cheerful attitude dwindles, then disappears, as Reginald bypasses the resort’s office buildings and leaves the public restaurants behind. I don’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t to be led down a twisty cobblestone path, surrounded by lush vegetation, into an area marked Private.

Privacy means intimacy, and intimacy means the threatened resurrection of old feelings, which is the last thing I can afford right now. I need to be clearheaded.

We come to a filigreed gate set inside an imposing hedge. Reginald swipes a keycard to gain access and ushers me toward a glassed-in, two-story house surrounded by a large lawn and mango trees. As we advance, the sound of the ocean grows louder. Does Finn have his own private sliver of beach?

As settings or circumstances go, this couldn’t be more different than my first encounter with Finn ten years ago, except, I suppose, that I had been exhausted then, too.

I’d come home from a babysitting job where two of my three charges had spent the night puking. I had four hours to crash before I was due at the diner, and all I wanted was to change into a clean T-shirt and crawl into bed.

Out of habit, as I walked up the gravel driveway to our sloping bungalow, I counted the dogs in the kennel. There was a new face in the wan light of that Ohio dawn. It belonged to a collarless mutt that whined and pawed at the fence upon seeing me.

Mama had been out prowling again.

But there had been more afoot than the acquisition of stray number six. When I eased into the house, I narrowly avoided stepping on my mama. Ada was lying under her quilt in the tunnel which led from the front door to my room.

“Why aren’t you in your bed?” I asked.

Her smile was beatific as she held a grimy finger to her lips in an exaggerated shushing motion. “I brought you something,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“I saw.” And how are we going to feed him? I wanted to add. But from long experience I knew how pointless that would be. Worse than pointless—self-defeating.

Recriminations only made Mama feel guilty, which led to more prowling when I wasn’t around to calm her. Since I was working three part-time jobs for the summer, that was practically always. So while indulging in sharp words might make me feel temporarily better, they would only hasten the appearance of stray number seven.

“Not the Pekingese mix, silly.” My mother pointed. “Go. Look. He’s in my bed.”

As tired as I was, it was rare for her to display this much urgency. So I had stepped up onto a pile of bound calendars, used that to climb onto a pile of yellowing Tribunes, then crawled my way over to the far side of the living room, where a depression in the chaos housed my mother’s mattress and afforded her a measure of privacy. I pulled myself to the lip and looked down.

I’d been expecting to find a creature of the canine variety. Something exotic and inbred that would need surgery so it could breathe, or actually operate its eyeballs. Instead, I found a boy.

He looked a few years older than me—twenty-two, maybe twenty-three.

He wasn’t from around here, that was obvious. The local men favored flannels and work boots, whereas he wore an expensive-looking sweater and runners. His haircut was fancy, too. He looked like a rich city boy who’d been jumped and rolled. Or a bruised, fallen angel with a clean-cut aesthetic.

Then the angel woke up and looked down my blouse.

Eventually his gaze made it up to my eyes and he swallowed. “Hello.” His voice was rusty and emerged from a mouth that wanted to smile, and that would have drawn my interest even without the split lower lip.

A runaway, then. Someone desperate for a meal and a place to sleep.

As armament against him, I batted a quick question his way. “Do you smoke?”

His smile dimmed at my hostility, but I couldn’t apologize. One spark and the crammed bungalow would turn into a deathtrap.

“No.”

“Well, don’t start.” We stared at one another before I thought to ask, “What’s your name?”

“Finn. And you are…?”

“Finn who?”

He was lying in a cave composed of Mama’s magazine collection, circa 1987 onward. There was an imperceptible hesitation as his eyes darted and found inspiration. “Finn Goodhouse.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” I said. “I would have gone with Finn Geographic, myself.”

But he wasn’t giving off serial-killer vibes, and I now had three hours and fifty minutes to sleep, so I turned my back on him. I slid across the piles, ignored my mama’s hopeful smile, and reached the sanctuary of my bedroom. Though tiny, it was the one place in the house that wasn’t overrun with Ada’s possessions.

“Finn” must be pretty desperate to stay overnight—even Tucker couldn’t manage it after he’d hit his teens. Given the state of our pantry, hopefully his desperation didn’t extend to hunger.

But I wouldn’t have to worry about him long. Best case scenario, he’d be gone in the morning, hopefully without having helped himself to the few useful items we possessed. Though, ha, good luck to you, Finn, in finding them, I’d thought. Then I tried to fall asleep. I tried but my mind kept jerking back to the runaway. To his mouth…

I came up with a few rules for myself, then, a few platitudes to shove in his face if he decided to follow his interested eyes with his interested hands. A man with no last name doesn’t get to first base with me.

But the next day, when I came home from the diner to change into my Ready Mart uniform, he was there, making my mama laugh while he hosed down the kennel. And he was still there when I arrived home for dinner with a loaf of expired bread and a sack of dented canned goods.

He stayed, he treated Mama with a dignity and kindness few had before, and my promise to myself hadn’t lasted any longer than one of Ada’s tidying spells.

I drag myself out of the past, though, because we’ve passed the villa now, and are rounding a curve, clearly coming to the end of our journey.

And there at last, seated on a wicker chair with a roller bag and briefcase stacked beside him, is Finn. He has one foot propped on the other knee and a phone pressed to his ear. He makes quite a picture—a striking man with dark hair and dark eyes on a patio surrounded by palm trees and bougainvillea—all this set against the backdrop of a private beach.

When he sees us, he puts the caller on hold with a few words. I manage a brief smile but he doesn’t return it as his eyes skim over me.

He addresses Reginald as I stand there, feeling awkward. “My luggage can go to the car.”

Reginald inclines his head. “Very good, sir. I’ll take them myself rather than have your meeting interrupted by a bellman. Will you be wanting a pickup in the golf cart?”

“No, I’ll walk.”

Reginald nods at me. “My lady.” Then he seizes the luggage and disappears around the corner, leaving us alone.

“Olivia, good to see you,” Finn says, his eyes distinctly cool. “Have a seat. I’ll be a minute.” He returns the phone to his ear.

When picturing our reunion, I hadn’t anticipated that we would coo over one another or he’d exclaim over how well I had aged. That hadn’t been our way when we were together, and in any case, I certainly don’t deserve that kind of treatment. Not after the way we parted.

But this—this distance, the deliberate use of my full name and his icy detachment—they hurt. I’ve been lying to myself. Since Friday, I’ve been telling myself to hope for professional treatment while my heart, apparently, has been yearning for more.

At least his departure looks imminent. No matter how painful or humiliating this gets, I won’t have to endure it long.

I choose a chair that will allow me to hide my shoes behind the glass-topped patio table and smooth my skirt. Then I fold my hands in my lap and pretend interest in the antics of a windsurfer who has come into view. But out of the corner of my eye, I take Finn’s inventory.

In person, he is handsomer than his photo and looks remarkably fit. His teeth are an even white against his tan. In Stonybrook, after he ditched the sweater as impractical, I’d never seen him in anything other than jeans and T-shirts, or jeans and work shirts. He managed to look amazing then. But if possible, business wear suits him even better.

And his voice has grown deeper, more assured, though his laugh still contains an edge of dirtiness, darn it. That combination of a clean-cut vibe and sex has always stirred my blood.

Right about the time the windsurfer takes a dunk in the sea, Finn hangs up.

I turn what I hope is a bland, professional face toward him, then have to work to maintain it. He has a small bandage on his ear and the breeze has lifted his hair to expose a nasty bruise on his forehead.

What happened there? I want to ask, not that it’s any of my business.

“Olivia,” he says, jerking me back to matters at hand. “Thanks for coming. I thought this might be better than meeting for the first time in public.”

And I hoped for the opposite, I think. Especially now that my summons is bound to stimulate office gossip. I smile politely. “My pleasure. I’m surprised you knew to look for me. I expected you’d be here, obviously, and planned to come say hello. But I didn’t think you’d have noticed my name on the roster.”

“Yolanda handles most of the day-to-day operations, but I try to stay on top of things.”

“Of course.”

“I looked for you in the audience this morning. Did I miss you somehow?”

“No—I—I had a problem with my alarm.” I force myself to relax my posture, to slow my speech. This is a business meeting, Liv. Act accordingly. “Normally I’m a stickler for punctuality, but I set my alarm volume too low and the time-zone change got me. It won’t happen again.”

He nods and stretches one arm over the back of his chair, the picture of a wealthy executive at ease. “How’s your mother?”

“She’s…” I can feel my cheeks heating and shrug. “You know.”

His eyes say that he does.

“She’s still in Stonybrook, in her house. But she’s in therapy now. And you’d be impressed—she’s down to two dogs.”

“Only two? That’s quite an improvement.”

I search his face, long accustomed to seeing sarcasm when it comes to my mama. But I can’t see a trace of anything other than compassion. That was one of the best things about the old Finn. He didn’t have a cruel bone in his body.

Not that I should be thinking about anything to do with Finn and bones…

“She says hi, actually,” I say brightly.

“Please give her my best.”

“I will.” I gesture to our surroundings. “This is utterly gorgeous—not that it’s a hardship to stay in any part of the resort—but you’ve done well for yourself. I’m glad.”

And I’m even gladder to find that I mean it.

When the suits showed up at our door with the news his father was ill, Finn left without a moment’s hesitation or any perceptible regret. Over time, when he didn’t return as promised, I’d grown bitter at what I perceived as his desertion. In many ways, that bitterness had been more painful to endure than my loneliness. After all, I’d already had years of managing the latter.

But I am happy for him if he’s happy, and discovering that I have it in me to be this generous comes as a huge relief. I really don’t like being an asshole.

“Thanks,” Finn says. “It’s been a lot of hard work.”

“I’m sure.”

“Let me give you a quick tour.”

It seems an odd suggestion, especially when he’s leaving. I have the feeling he’s building to something in this visit and would rather get to the point of my summons.

But our foray into the personal has left me feeling emotional, and I notice Finn swallowing, too, which used to be his tell. Maybe a timeout is wise for us both.

So I follow him inside and make appropriate noises over the villa’s high-end kitchen, and the master bath with the clawfoot tub. Especially the rooftop pool which is surrounded by palm tree foliage on three sides and a killer view of the Caribbean on the fourth.

All along I’m wondering if he’s trying to send me a message. This is what you almost had. Or, Our worlds were never meant to meet.

It’s exhausting to think this way. I hate head games. I hate living in regret, and by the time we have returned to the patio, I’m ready for some plain-speaking.

I remain standing when he offers me a seat. “Before we get to why you brought me here—because I assume you had a plan—can I say something?”

I’ve surprised him, but he nods. “Go on.”

I knit my hands but keep my gaze steady. “I want to apologize for how I behaved the last time we saw each other. I had some justification for feeling hurt, but I should have had the courage—” I take a deep breath “—and the maturity to confront you directly.”

“You sound sincere.”

I am caught by the funny note in his voice, and his emphasis on the word sound. “That’s because I am.”

“And yet you didn’t stop.”

What is he saying? His eyes have an intensity that is almost frightening, so I duck my head to regain my composure and try to process the words. But he is already talking again. I blink and try to catch up.

“—not one to dig up the past, but I can’t have a saboteur in my company,” Finn says.

“Saboteur”? And now this meeting, this choice of venue, that he’s summoned me with such formality and made a point of establishing our different statuses—it all makes perfect sense. I’ve been worried about reclaiming pride when I should have been fearing for my job.

“Are you firing me?” I ready all the reasons he can’t: that I need my job to pay for Mama’s therapy; that without a reference I’ll be unlikely to secure another position; that he would be virtually guaranteeing my return to the circumstances in which he found me; that he’s condemning me for actions taken a decade ago.

“No,” he says. “Merely making my expectations clear. I won’t tolerate any trouble. Are we on the same page?”

I swallow and fight an annoying pressure behind my eyes. This is not the time to indulge in waterworks. I lift my chin. “From the day HMZ hired me, I have endeavored to do my best by the company. That won’t change now that you are my employer. You have my word.”

He nods. “Good. Then we understand one another.”

“We do.” On the strength of my past misdeeds, I’ve effectively been put on notice.

“I’ll walk you out.”

I retrace my steps to the gate, acutely conscious of his footsteps behind me. Only a few more minutes until I have the option of breaking down…

We reach for the gate latch at the same time, my fingers landing first, Finn’s settling over top of them. I stare at our clasped hands, effectively trapped until he moves.

“Liv… I’m sorry to have to be such a hard-ass. Will you be okay?”

I nod, not trusting my voice.

“I have no right to ask you this, but I’m going to anyway…”

“Yes?” I say numbly.

“You… Tucker… Are you together?”

There are any number of responses I can make to put us firmly back on the path of employee and employer—the route he has so painstakingly carved. I turn my head, though, and the lips that once tasted mine are but a breath away. His scent envelops me. And for a second, the vulnerable, lost boy I loved looks back from the grown man’s eyes.

I speak to the boy, knowing I had some part in hardening the man. “Never.”

Then I shake off his hand and escape down the path, past the mangoes.

Chapter 5

Finn

“Yo. Mr. Fidgety Mon.” The van driver turns and looks at me over his glasses. “Don’t be worryin’ yourself. I’ll have you to the airport in no time a’tall.”

This is patently false as we are in the midst of a traffic jam in Kingston, but the man has an irrepressible grin, so I try to return it. Also, to stop jiggling my leg, which has a mind of its own when I’m stressed.

He faces forward and the van advances a few feet before the horns blare once again. “If you don’t mind me sayin’, you don’t seem very relaxed for having visited our beautiful country.” His eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. “Lady troubles?”

“You have no idea,” I say. Guilt troubles, too.

I can’t stop thinking about how I screwed up my meeting with Liv, and that’s without including the bone-headed move at the end, when I asked whether she and Tucker were together.

Really, Finn, really? You exposed your stupid, ancient jealousy to an employee you just put on notice?

Yolanda would kill me for that. I want to kill me for that.

I don’t even want to imagine what Liv must be thinking about her weak-kneed boss with the contradictory messages. Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Liv?

Gah! What the hell was I thinking?

I shift in my seat and realize I’m jiggling my leg again as the driver smiles.

Might as well admit I was primed to mess up long before the grand finale at the gate. I’d been steaming when I got off the cruiser, thinking of how much Liv put me through before—how I’d let it go on too long because I couldn’t bring myself to press charges, even with proof of her perfidy.

So when Liv had been a no-show at my keynote, I’d seen it as a declaration of intent—another passive-aggressive way to strike out at me, on my dime, from within my own company. In that context, it seemed like I was being beyond reasonable to remind her of our employer-employee relationship and put her on notice.

But then…then she arrived. And she had circles under her eyes, and mismatched shoes, and was so damn beautiful despite it all that it reminded me of when we met, when she peeped over the edge of Ada’s crap and rocked my world.

Then that full-throated apology, delivered in classic Liv-style with the humility and disarming sincerity I once so admired. And her openness about her mom…

And where was her crazy this afternoon? Where was the evidence of a nefarious agenda? And what was all that blushing and head-ducking when I told her I wouldn’t put up with any of her old BS?

Taken all together, I was completely thrown. Is it any wonder that by the time we were at the gate, my brain had been hijacked by a rush of sentiment and confusion?

But I can’t afford to let my brain stay shut down. This isn’t just about me anymore. I have responsibilities to my other employees and the company’s shareholders. If Liv is acting up again, she is a scary-good actress who could do real damage from inside Wakefield.

Bottom line: I need an objective assessment about how much risk Liv poses. When I know that, I’ll confess and turn everything over to Yolanda, preferably from the safe distance of several thousand miles.

Not that my eardrums will be spared her wrath.

The traffic is finally moving but I estimate we have another fifteen minutes before we reach the airport. Time enough to get things underway.

I have the driver turn down his music. A short while later, I’ve been put through to Darcy Whitier, whose firm handles background checks for Wakefield employees, among other things.

“I need you to dig up a file that your predecessor opened for me,” I say, when we’ve dispensed with the niceties.

“Bert? Aye-aye, cap’n,” he says with his perennial cheerfulness. “Under what name?”

“Olivia Prosser.”

“Hang on.” There’s a clattering of keys and Darcy grunts. “I just double-checked to be sure, but we changed computer systems after he retired. I don’t have anything going back that far. Mind telling me what this is about?”

I close my eyes. “Please tell me you didn’t toss the paperwork.” Because I have. When I moved houses a couple of years ago, in a symbolic effort to finally break with the past, I forced myself to shred my copy.

“Bert probably kept it. I can’t speak to whether he stored it properly, but I’ll try to dig it up if it’s important.”

“It’s important,” I say. Right now I could use a tangible reminder of Liv’s capabilities, not only for Wakefield, but for my own peace of mind.

“Okay. Can you tell me what this is about?”

I suppress a sigh and begin. “A decade ago, I ended up in a hamlet near Cleveland, living with a woman named Ada Prosser.”

I’d been disoriented and tired when we met, fresh from a dispute with my father about my future, and his assumption that I’d finish my business degree and move seamlessly into his company. The argument was a regular occurrence; the blow to my face during it hadn’t been. As far as I was concerned, violence wasn’t about to become my new normal.

I had taken off, nursing a heart full of self-righteous anger, determined to give myself the summer, at least, to figure out what I wanted to do. I’d “go dark,” get off-grid. I’d get my head on straight and, in the process, have the great pleasure of alarming the old man.

Then I discovered how little time it took to run through cash on the road, and how hard it was to make good decisions on an empty belly, with little sleep.

After a bout of hitchhiking, I had been stumbling along a country road, looking for cheap lodgings for the night, when up pulled a battered Chevette. The middle-aged driver had wild hair and kind eyes and she asked for help corralling a stray Pekingese. By the time we had the dog sequestered in Ada’s kennel, I was stupid with fatigue, to the point that the state of her home hadn’t fazed me. I gratefully accepted her offer of shelter.

“I fell in love with Ada’s daughter,” I say. “Olivia.”

After a few hours sleep, I awoke to the scrutiny of a weary brunette with skeptical eyes. Somehow, my stupid, self-pitying brain took one look at her and knew: This is the one. She wasn’t like the girls of my acquaintance, who could be won over by glib comments, nice clothes, the flash of money. She would be careful with her emotions, cautious, slow to trust. But once you earned that trust, she’d reward you with a lifetime of acceptance and love.

After the house I grew up in, it was the sexiest thing I had ever seen.

I clear my throat. “We spent the summer together, living in Ada’s house.”

I had three weeks to woo Liv on my own before Tucker came back from college. Then another three months with Tucker on the scene, functioning as a skeevy older competitor who delighted in pointing out my many deficiencies. He wasn’t wrong, either. I started off soft, entitled, hopelessly impractical. But I learned, I worked hard at the jobs I could get, and by the end of the summer, I was a better man. And Liv and I were in love and beginning to dream of a future.

“Then my father’s people came with the news he had cancer, and that the company was in trouble,” I say.

I had to leave, but I remember how torn I felt at the time. Ada couldn’t be left alone—I understood that—and while Liv wasn’t a complainer, she was filled with dread, convinced I would forget her once I was back in my old life. So I had promised—vowed—to return as soon as I could.

“I went back to Jacksonville, took care of business, buried my dad. All that stuff.”

If I told this story to Yolanda, this is where she would tell me that the mistakes I made going forward weren’t all my fault. That the environment shaped my default behaviors. That I was pummeled by complicated grief, overwhelmed with the responsibility of managing thousands of employees in a company unexpectedly in decline. And this would all be true.

But I also let myself believe my own press. I fell for the idea that I’d become an important man, and that if Liv and I were to be together, she should come to me.

I blamed her for how hard it was for us to communicate. She didn’t have a landline at home, and cell coverage didn’t reach the bungalow. The brief conversations we managed during her shifts at the diner were wholly unsatisfactory. And when I tried to send her money for airfare, or just to make her life simpler, the messenger had treated Ada poorly and Liv sent them away.

Meanwhile, I was lonely, and hurting.

“A few months after I left,” I say, “Liv showed up in Jacksonville without any warning. There was…an unpleasant scene at a jewelers. After that, she kind of lost it.”

“What do you mean?” Darcy says.

“It’s in the report, but basically, she committed a lot of vandalism.”

He grunts.

“I hired Bert to document it all. I planned to press charges, but I never got that far. And then she stopped.” It had taken her almost a year. And the sick thing was, when I realized it was finally over—that three months had gone by without a Liv-induced mess of some sort—I had been more upset than when my father died. How bent is that?

“Anyway,” I say, “she just recently became an employee.”

He whistles and I hear the sound of rustling paper. “You think she’s stalking you?”

“No.” That was some comfort at least. “Not in that sense. She was working for a firm we scooped up. She was probably as shocked as me to discover our reconnection. But now that we are, it’s possible she’s starting up again.”

I briefly explain what’s been happening in Jamaica, and that I’m not convinced events were planned, never mind connected to Liv.

“Any cameras on the villa?”

“No. There are locked gates and the villa is alarmed. No one came inside except the staff, so it’s possible my shorts blew over the railing and into the sea.” Possible, but not probable.

On the other hand, there is a certain kind of person who gets off on accessing the villa’s private beach. I once returned from a meeting and discovered nude kayakers sunning their junk on my chairs. Could be one of them used an oar to hook my shorts and pull them down from the railing.

Darcy grunts. “If she’s working through the staff, good luck trying to prove it.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured. It’s all circumstantial, anyway.”

“What about Stateside?” he says. “Any monkey business there?”

I can’t believe I hadn’t thought of that. My house and car had borne the brunt of Liv’s attention before. “Not as far as I know. But I haven’t been home in—” I check my watch and calculate “—nearly two weeks.”

“I can take a run by your house, have a look-see.”

“I’d appreciate it.” The security service would have called with anything major, but better to be careful.

“Okay, other than that, what do you need me to do?”

I ask him to conduct general background checks on both Liv and Tucker, because why not? “And dig out those old records. I want us prepared if things go south.” Nobody would use ten-year-old material to press charges, but if Liv steps out of line, Yolanda can establish a pattern and bolster a case for dismissal.

“Hmmm,” he says. “You said this was ten years ago?”

“Ten this coming September.”

“What kind of evidence did you have on her?”

“What do you mean?”

“Fingerprints, surveillance reports, CCTV footage, stills?”

“Security footage for sure.” Plus the evidence of my own eyes… I have to shake off an image of Liv at the jewelry store to concentrate on what Darcy is saying.

“—poke around, but stuff that old tends to decay in quality, especially if it isn’t stored properly. It’s possible I’ll find the tapes but we’ll be looking at static.”

“Well, do what you can. And, Darcy, I need it like yesterday.”

When I hang up, the van is pulling up to the airport loading zone. I jump out and am paying the driver when I acknowledge what I’ve known since seeing Liv out. I’m staying until I’ve got a satisfactory handle on this Liv business.

The Milwaukee investors wouldn’t have the best of me, anyway. Liv shook me back there. Rattled me to my bones.

Once Darcy reconfirms everything I know to be true, I’ll turn it over to Yolanda and put this behind me. This time, maybe it won’t even take me a decade.

Chapter 6

Liv

I am unsettled by my conversation with Finn and have a few burning questions to put to Tucker—chief among them, did Tucker antagonize Finn during their brief conversation about me?

But events conspire to keep us apart. We are in different small groups for the rest of the day. Then tonight, Tucker is going out for dinner with the rest of the engineers while I have a hot date with some plant drawings.

I go looking for Tucker during the afternoon break and finally find him at the end of a promontory. He stands in the shade of a gazebo, leaning over the balustrade as he watches a scuttling crab. He has his suit jacket off and his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. There’s a beer in one hand and a lit cigar in the other.

I jerk my chin in the direction of the beer and can’t keep the tartness from my voice. “This is a work function.”

“No kidding. At an all-inclusive resort.”

“Yeah, well, you might want to reconsider your choices. I need you sharp-minded.”

He drains his beer and puffs on the cigar before leisurely turning. He leans his back on the railing. He tips his head and while squinting at me, blows smoke at a bee in one of the hanging flower pots. The bee wobbles and flies away.

“You’re all hot under the collar,” he says. “What’s the matter? Didn’t go well with our Finn?”

The sea breeze keeps blowing a strand of hair into my mouth so I pull out my sunglasses and use them as a headband. “It went fine. He mostly wanted to make sure I know my place.”

Though I yearn to take Tucker into my confidence and get another perspective on Finn’s contradictory messages, the bigger risk is Tucker overreacting and pushing back. Tucker once took offense to how Finn buttered a muffin. If it came to protecting me, he would be even more aggressive.

“How did he look? Notice anything amiss?” A secretive smile dances briefly across Tucker’s face.

I knew it. I frigging knew it. No wonder Finn had been so intense. “Are you responsible for his bruise?”

He makes a sound of disgust. “Of course not.”

I hold his gaze for a while, but I see no sign of deception there, so I relax. “What did you do?”

He grins and turns to stub out his cigar on the railing. “A little harmless frat boy stuff. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”

“Here?” I demand. “In Jamaica?”

He shrugs. “Where else?”

“Oh, I dunno,” I say, putting a hand to my forehead. “Here’s a bizarre thought—maybe the office.”

He looks insulted. “Please. That would be downright stupid. I wouldn’t foul the nest.”

I glare at him.

“More than I have.”

“What happened to being Jamaican wallpaper?” I say.

“It got boring.”

“We’ve barely been here a day.”

He grins and lifts a shoulder.

“What if you were caught? What about Marnie and Daniel, then?” I say, because like my mama, Tucker’s mother and stepbrother rely on the money he sends them. And what about me, since my fate is yoked so intimately to his?

“I wasn’t stupid enough to do it myself,” he says patiently. “There’s no way Finn’ll trace it back to me.”

I fold my arms over my chest and say nothing.

“I slipped a few dollars to the staff, okay? There are always a few disgruntled ones who are happy to stick it to The Man and make it look like an accident.”

Sometimes I can’t believe his selfishness. “What if you got them fired?”

“Babe,” he says, exasperated at my naiveté. “It’s not like I twist their arms. You’ve got to stop trying to save everyone. Besides—” he says as I feed him a glare “—I’ll admit it might have been a mistake to rouse the beast. But I’ve had my fun, and Finn’s leaving.”

“You sure about that?” Because I’m not. Not after those moments at the gate.

Now it’s Tucker’s turn to swing and scrutinize my expression. “Finn is staying? He said as much?”

“Not exactly, but call it a hunch. I think he smelled a rat.”

“Huh. Maybe our boy has managed to acquire some street smarts over the years. Who would’ve thunk it? Well—” He slaps the railing and straightens. “If he gets too suspicious, you’ll just have to distract him. You were always good at that when we were younger.”

“That wasn’t distraction. That was love.”

“Uh-huh. That’s why it took next to nothing for him to get cold feet and walk.”

Tucker isn’t saying anything I haven’t thought a thousand times before. But for a second, with every fiber of my being, I want to take a running leap at him, push him over the railing, and while he lies there dazed, watch the tiny crab dance on his head.

I settle for saying, “You’re a cold-hearted bastard, Tucker.”

“Yes, but I’m the bastard who always looks out for you. And in return, I expect—”

“A little loyalty, ergo protect the fruit of the poison tree, blah blah blah.” I turn on my heel and start back for the conference center.

“Remember what’s at stake, Liv,” he calls after me.

As if I don’t every day of my life. Besides, I’m not the one baiting our boss, or diving into a beer bottle during the break.

I take off my shoes and carefully step up onto the sea wall. On the pretext of putting my arms out for balance, I flip Tucker the bird in stereo. But the person I really wish I could flip off is my younger self—the foolish girl who didn’t take a stand on the day it counted.

Ten years on, it’s probably time to give up on the hope she’ll ever have a do-over.

Chapter 7

Finn

Darcy calls at noon the next day when I’m heading to the beach to watch Yolanda whip the newbies into shape.

“So this chick was going pretty hardcore before she stopped,” he says as his opening gambit.

I’m perversely relieved. Overnight, I continued to second-guess myself on everything Liv-related, including whether I had been unreasonably hurt by her actions during that challenging year. To hear Darcy describe it in such terms makes me think I’m not a total wuss.

“Does that mean you talked to Bert?” I ask.

“Unfortunately, no. Did you know he had a stroke?”

“Too bad.” Bert had been a straight-shooter and as dependable as the sunrise. He’d only had a couple years of retirement, too.

“Yup. I guess Bev managed as long as she could before she had to ship him to a nursing home. I’ll spare ya the details or you’re gonna need another shave before I’m done, but I was able to get my hands on his records. Daughter had them stored in a shed.”

“And?”

“And the plot thickens.”

There’s a bench ahead on the path. I sink down onto it.

“So like I expected, we’ve got an issue with evidence preservation. The tapes were in a cardboard box, which got wet. Were so bad I couldn’t put them in my machine unless I wanted to gum it up permanently. But here’s the good news: his notes were in a plastic banker’s box. And inside that there was a Ziploc with all the stills.”

“Photos,” I say. “Scan them and send them to me.” That’s what I need—some hard evidence to snap me out of my sentimental mood.

“Sure. So I’m not sure how much you recall, but as a brief recap, Bert looked at eleven incidents for you.”

“Eleven!” I remember it feeling like a lot at the time, but I’m not sure I’d heard the tally.

“Yup. So first step: I eliminated all the events that were suspicious, but that Bert didn’t feel he could definitively connect to Ms. Prosser. Just took ’em right out.”

“Like what?”

“Like when your car got keyed outside the dry-cleaner’s but they had no security footage. That kind of thing.”

“Makes sense.”

“Also, when you originally opened the file, you mentioned a few suspicious incidents that were too far gone in the past to pursue. Say, what’s that sound?”

I blink, confused by the change of subject. “Excuse me?”

“There was a weird cawing sound on your end.”

“Oh.” I look around and spot a multi-colored bird strutting on the lawn. “There are peacocks roaming the resort. They also have a few pet parrots, though you won’t hear them. I’m too far away from their cage.”

“Neat. Back to Ms. Prosser.” There’s the sound of shuffling paper. “So dating from December tenth until July fourteenth of the next year, we’re left with seven incidents that Bert tied conclusively to Ms. Prosser.”

“Why am I hearing a but coming?”

“But—” he says “—I think he overstated the case against her.”

“Come again?” I say.

“Looking with the mind of a skeptic, with the evidence I have in front of me, I’m not convinced he had it right. At least not to the standard of reasonable doubt, which is what you’re wanting, right?”

“Correct.” I realize I’m massaging the lump on my forehead and drop my hand. “Okay. How many of the seven events are questionable? Two? Three?” Bert was getting on in years by then. Maybe he missed a detail or two. Or maybe he stopped paying as much attention when it became obvious to us both that I was never going to press charges. He used to razz me about spending the money when I wasn’t going to act.

“Six,” he says, as the breath whooshes out of me. “I count six hinky events. To be blunt, it’s possible that everything after the jewelry store was the work of another woman.”

“You’re going to have to walk me through this,” I say when I can talk. “This is a pretty big change of heart.” And speaking of body parts, I’m starting to sweat and my heart is engaged in a canter.

“So let’s start with the one event that’s true. We know without question that Ms. Prosser was behind the jewelry store, correct?”

“Right.”

“Because you saw her in person. Direct witness confirmation.”

“Right. Where are you going with this?”

“Bear with me. After the jewelry store, we never had that level of evidence again. In fact, Bert identified a lot of the photos on your behalf because you got sick of it at one point and wanted the pros to handle it.”

“The later ones, maybe, but not at first. No way. I even looked at a few tapes, and I think I can damn well pick out my own ex.”

“Maybe,” he says levelly, as if he isn’t destroying an orthodoxy I’ve held for years. “Remember, you were hurt, and in the context of vandalism you were primed to see Ms. Prosser. Also, the photos are grainy. And superficially, the two women look very similar. Brunette with hair to their shoulder blades, ’bout five-seven and weighing one-forty. Also, the mystery woman is often wearing the pink hooded sweatshirt you identified as being Ms. Prosser’s.”

“Well, sounds like a lock to me,” I say. “What am I missing?”

“For starters, the mystery woman has a little more material in her, uh, upper story. I didn’t trust my own opinion, so I consulted with an officemate who is—uh—a Victoria’s Secret expert. He concurs.”

I’m not sure how I feel about two men pouring over Liv’s figure, but I guess it goes with the territory. “Or Liv could have used a padded bra.”

“True. True. But what’s with her always wearing the ball cap?”

“Um…she’s intelligent,” I say, exasperated. “Trying to avoid being identified.”

“Then why was she so careful about her face but careless about her vehicle? I mean, we’ve got photos of her ’83 Chevette parked across the street from your house. No attempt to obscure the license plate whatsoever.”

“Right,” I say, seizing on what he just said. “That’s what I remember. Bert had her car on the scene several times.” Toll booth records, too, as I recall. Even a parking ticket.

“The car, yes. But not necessarily Ms. Prosser.”

There’s a long silence as I put it all together. I suppose, theoretically, that he’s right, but the scenario he’s suggesting is frankly ridiculous. Absurd. “So you’re saying that a woman who knows Liv’s taste in clothing, who had access to her car—and her dogs—” I say, recalling the particular incident which really sticks in my craw “—that woman deliberately came onto my property and committed acts of vandalism.”

“I’m saying it’s possible. But one quick way you could put a wrinkle in my theory is by telling me Ms. Prosser’s handedness. Like, whether she’s left- or right-handed,” he clarifies when I don’t speak immediately.

“Right,” I say.

“Are you positive?”

I close my eyes and expel a breath, conjuring images. I picture Liv yesterday, pulling a strand of hair from her mouth. Ten years ago, doing a striptease in the shed with soft, vulnerable eyes. Liv pulling down my zipper before riding me into oblivion. Liv on her knees, gazing up at me as her mouth and hands work me over.

With those pictures to fall back on, I’m damn well sure I would have noticed if she were left-handed.

I think.

Who knows what details I might have altered or put into soft focus during my many review sessions over the years?

I open my eyes. “Ninety-nine percent sure,” I say. “I’ll get to a hundred if you give me an hour. But why is this relevant?”

“Takes a fair bit of force to slash tires. The woman who did your Beemer is almost certainly a southpaw.”

“Why?” I ask. “Why would someone go to the trouble of impersonating Liv?” But I know the answer, of course, and I know who could be behind it, if this bizarre theory holds water.

I was hurt by the jewelry store, but I would have eventually forgiven Liv because I knew I wasn’t blameless. I can’t count how many times I got close to dumping my responsibilities—just shoving them all away—and driving down to see her to apologize. But inevitably, before I could act, along would come another attack on my property.

If there is another woman, I’d bet my left nut that Tucker was the one motivating her.

But when I say as much, Darcy tells me to hold my horses. “First of all, I said I think the woman was left-handed. It’s not conclusive. And second of all, even if there is another woman, that doesn’t necessarily exonerate Ms. Prosser.”

“Come again?”

“It’s possible Ms. Prosser couldn’t be there herself, so she used a proxy.”

I can barely restrain my skeptical laughter. “Hired it out?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Oh, come on,” I say. “That’s a little unrealistic, isn’t it?”

“I’ve seen stranger things in my day. Trust me. People pull all kinds of shit when they feel spurned. And that would explain how the mystery woman gained access to Ms. Prosser’s car and clothing, plus the animals.”

“Well, then why did she—or they—finally quit?” It’s a question that haunted me for years, and that I sure wouldn’t mind having answered now.

“Could be a lot of things. Ms. Prosser grew up. She got help. She started dating someone else and transferred her obsession to them—though I’ll note she has no criminal record of any kind. Or maybe she just got bored of it. After all, if her goal was to get your attention, there wasn’t any payoff after the jewelry store.”

“Because I didn’t press charges, you mean.”

“Exactly. You didn’t rise to the bait.”

I think back to Liv’s face yesterday. “Nah. I don't buy it. I don't think she's that crazy.”

“Pardon me for saying so, but for a decade you were willing to believe she was behind all eleven incidents. How is it a stretch to believe that she’d bring on a helper?”

He’s got me there.

I sigh and wash my face with my hand. “How do we sort this all out?”

“Can I come there to grill her?”

“No,” I say, and then realizing I’ve spoken curtly, add, “If I’ve been blaming the wrong person, I’m not adding to the injustice.” Plus, Yolanda would kill me if I started interrogating employees during the retreat, especially over kooky theories about ancient history.

“Then you’re going to do two things,” he says. “You’ll find out about her handedness and call me back.”

“Done.”

“And you’ll send me to Ohio and let me poke around. I’ll see if I can get a candidate for the other woman. If we can find her, and if she talks, then we can find out who put her up to it.”

“Do it,” I say. Now that I’ve opened this Pandora’s Box, I damn well want to get some answers.

On the beach, Yolanda is in the thick of her last-minute organizing. She’s dressed in the brightly colored shirt she reserves for the first day of outdoor exercises and is busy sorting kitchen sponges into net bags.

“Good afternoon,” I say. “How are the lab rats?”

She lifts her eyebrows at me and grins unrepentantly. “Nervous.”

Smart lab rats. “We’ve got to do something about your hormones,” I say. “You need a mustache to twirl.”

Before I poached Yolanda from a Fortune 500 company, we wound up in a conversation about employee retention and how I was doing it all wrong, especially with Wakefield in an expansion phase.

“You want a lean, cohesive company?” she said to me. “Then stop being so goddamn cheap.”

I had been willing to listen, thank goodness, and willing to fork out the money for a weekend-long experiment at the Super 8 in Boise. Then I watched as what promised to be a chaotic acquisition went through without a hitch, and employee satisfaction soared.

Since then, we’ve worked our way up to five-day retreats in Jamaica, and we both think that’s the perfect arrangement.

On the surface, especially in the indoor sessions, this time is about establishing a common language, mutual respect, and creating a harmonious culture. All the things that sound woo-woo on the surface, but actually contribute to the dividends that give our shareholders hard-ons and lady-boners.

To the astute, this week is also understood to be a long-running job interview. Because no matter how guarded people are when they begin, under the influence of time, alcohol, and most especially fun, everyone lets go of caution. They drop their masks. They cut loose a little. And when they do, it’s amazing what can be learned.

From a casual touch here, you discover who’s having an affair with whom. From a whispered argument there, whose marriage is on the ropes.

The “outdoor games” part of the retreat is especially helpful. It shows who is willing to cut corners or cheat, which employees are natural leaders, and who, paradoxically, can be reliably counted on for original thinking.

Somehow Yolanda will take what she learns here and use it to reshape the Wakefield team back home, so that vulnerabilities are bulwarked and latent strengths harnessed.

And very occasionally, though it’s not what we seek, she will uncover something that warrants a firing.

Speaking of which… I turn to the beach and scan the restless crowd. “On the white team, see the woman with the red runners and the guy in the Bengals cap?”

Yolanda has her head under a table skirt as she digs in a plastic bin. “You mean Olivia Prosser and Tucker Acheson?”

It’s a challenge to keep my mouth from falling open. “How’d they get on your radar already?”

“Other than their odd place in the office flow chart?”

I’d noticed that, too. Within HMZ’s structure, while most staff technologists are assigned to projects rather than engineers, Tucker and Liv exist off to the side, in their own little organizational bubble. I haven’t gone through the entirety of their personnel files, but it looks like neither functioned particularly well until this special arrangement was struck.

“Yeah, aside from that,” I say.

“You gonna tell me why you had her to your villa yesterday, then changed your mind about Milwaukee?”

“When I know more.” There’s no way I want to prejudice Yolanda against Liv before Darcy has finished his investigation. For that matter, much as I might loathe Tucker, he deserves a fair shake.

Her mouth compresses as she pulls down her sunglasses to look over the rim at me.

“I’ve got Darcy working on something,” I say. “And I’ll value your independent opinion.”

She nods. “Guess we’ll swap stories when his report is in.”

“Guess we will.”

“Good enough,” she says.

“Good enough.”

We’re grinning at each other when she thrusts something into my abdomen, shocking an Oof out of me. A white T-shirt.

“Since you’re inserting yourself into my day, I’m putting you on her team.”

“Why?”

“One of their party is out sick. I was going to play sub, but it’s obviously better when I’m a detached observer. Besides—” A huge grin blossoms over her face and takes over her eyes. “It’ll be fun. I get to watch the romantic triangle in action.”

I frown at her. “There is no triangle.” There was a romantic line, and one party who wanted it to be otherwise, but that’s all ancient history.

“Uh-huh,” she says, in that infuriating way she has of telling me she’s seen more than I want.

But I have no real objection to her plan. After that conversation with Darcy, I’m as restless as hell and could use the activity. It’ll provide me an opportunity to establish Liv’s handedness. Plus, much as I hate to admit it, a small part of me wants to spend time with her. After what she’s put me through, how sick is that?

Chapter 8

Liv

As I stand on the beach, from my position within the white team, it’s hard to remember what I was so worried about yesterday.

Finn hasn’t shown, proving that my paranoid instincts about him were screwy and daft.

After doing paperwork all evening and spending the morning in the ballroom, I am finally outdoors, with a chance to actually notice I am in Jamaica.

Now all I have to do is come across as a steady, unremarkable contributor during the afternoon games, and I’m going to get through this retreat just fine.

Then Tucker and I can return home with secure jobs, and after a decade of loose ends, I’ll finally have closure because of my apology to Finn.

It’ll almost be worth wearing a bathing suit in front of my coworkers.

“Phew.” I pull off my hat and use the back of my hand to mop my brow. “It’s going to be a scorcher.”

“I’ll say.” Georgia inclines her head in the direction of the hotel. “Have a look.”

I turn and see a very present Finn on the promenade with Yolanda. He’s pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a sculpted chest and abs. A sprinkling of dark hair leads in a trail down his belly and disappears into a pair of black board shorts.

As my heart starts to hammer, I turn my back and pretend fascination with the water.

Dang. Among other things, it’s deflating to think he might have so much distrust in me that he chose not to leave.

“Don’t know any other CEO who looks like that.” Georgia hums a quick, sparkly melody. “He can take over my company any day.”

“I’m sure he’s attached,” Kimberly says.

“Nope,” Georgia says as I listen with far too much interest. “My cousin is his PA. I get regular updates.”

“Who cares?” Tucker thumps his chest. “If you’re looking for action, you’ve got all the man you can handle right here.”

“Aw, Tucker, honey,” Georgia says, patting his shoulder, “we didn’t mean to make you feel left out.” She breaks off as something behind me catches her attention, and her smile dawns like the tropical sun. “Why, good afternoon, Mr. Wakefield.”

“Good afternoon, folks,” Finn says. His smile is easy, his hands rest lightly on his hips over a T-shirt he must have put on as soon as I turned my back. A white T-shirt. “Nice day for some water games. Yolanda said you were down a team member. Mind if I join you?”

“You’re going to be on our team?” Tucker’s challenging tone earns him startled glances from the others.

“He’s the boss,” I say quietly. “Ergo he gets to be wherever he wants.” I widen my eyes at Tucker, hoping he will read their flashing message of, Behave. This will be a disaster if Finn and Tucker resurrect their old pattern of rivalry.

“‘And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds,’” Princess says. “Hebrews 10:24.” When Finn blinks at her she holds out a hand. “I’m Princess, and you are welcome here.”

“Er, thank you,” Finn says, and I have to bite my lips to avoid smiling.

People are always shocked the first time they encounter Princess. She’s blonde, wears her hair in a ponytail, and always has something pink and sparkly on her person. But her mind is a steel trap when it comes to finding relevant Bible verses, which she does with startling frequency.

We perform quick introductions. Besides Tucker, Finn, Princess and me, there are four others on the white team.

Kimberly, of the vampiric complexion, works in Purchasing at HMZ, where she comes across as stressed and humorless. It’ll be interesting to see what she’s like in this setting.

Tad works in Drafting. He’s shaped like a plank with an Adam’s apple. The latter bobs as he shakes Finn’s hand. Nervous or attracted? I wonder. Probably both.

Roger is in the mothership’s Accounting department. He has a receding hairline but is built like a retired linebacker. Obviously his past athleticism will be good for the team.

Last is irrepressible Georgia, who works in PR at Wakefield proper. I feel for her. Quite a few of us are coping with desk jockey physiques, including me, but as she is a much larger woman, I have a feeling she’s going to suffer this afternoon.

Somehow Finn ends up standing next to me. While the others watch Yolanda and speculate about what we’ll be doing with the props she’s setting up, it feels like Finn and I are back in sixth grade, consumed by awareness of one another while pretending disinterest. Any time now, I’ll break down and kick him in the shin.

Finn makes the first move by speaking to me in an undertone. “You okay, Liv? You look tired today.”

So I am back to being “Liv” instead of “Olivia.” And if there are shadows under my eyes, they’re thanks to him and that moment by the gate.

“I’m fine thank you, Mr. Wakefield.” If he’s going to be around, I need professional boundaries to make this work. Anything more ambivalent, and I’m going to have trouble with my wayward heart.

“No need for such formality,” Finn says easily, and at a volume the others can hear. “Call me Finn, everybody.”

As they nod, I drop to a crouch on the pretext of getting a water bottle from my duffel. He follows on the pretext of tying a shoe, then stares openly as I take a drink.

“Look,” I say when I recap the bottle, “I don’t mean to be rude, but half the office thinks I sleep with Tucker, and after yesterday, the other half wonders if I sleep with you. Either fire me or treat me like everyone else.”

I rise to a standing position as his face blanks, but am spared further conversation by Yolanda calling for attention.

“Okay, listen up, people. We’re about to begin the first challenge.” Yolanda points to five picnic tables lined up parallel to the shore about twenty feet from the water. Each end contains a colored bin and a string bag filled with household sponges. “Gather around the bin which matches the color of your T-shirt. Then listen carefully to the instructions.”

When we have shuffled to the appropriate locations, she removes a recipe card from her clipboard and reads it aloud.

“Begin by filling your container in the sea. Take turns using your sponges, and only your sponges, to transfer water to your second container.” She points fifty feet in the direction of the hotel, where a second matching bin awaits us on another picnic table. “You will win the exercise if you are the first team to fill the second receptacle to its brim.”

“White team,” she says upon turning to us. “In case you think you’ve got an advantage with Finn on your team, I have to disillusion you. He’s just a warm body—”

“I’ll say,” Georgia whispers to me.

“—and is expressly forbidden from providing any leadership.”

Finn grins and salutes us. “Peon reporting for duty.”

“You have two minutes to prepare,” Yolanda continues. “At the one-minute mark, I will issue a verbal warning.” She holds a whistle aloft. “You may begin when you hear my signal. Any questions?”

When nobody raises their hand, she turns us loose.

Tucker grabs the bag of sponges and we form a circle to pass it around, taking one sponge each. When we are done, three remain in the bag.

“Must have planned for larger teams,” Roger says with a shrug. He copies the other teams by tossing the leftovers onto the table.

“Okay… Anyone have a strategy?” Princess asks.

In the silence that ensues, everyone looks expectantly at Finn, who merely smiles back.

Tucker has been squinting down the beach while repeatedly tossing and catching his sponge. “FYI, I figure on thirty to thirty-five runs each.”

Georgia gasps. “Thirty-five?”

Tucker shrugs. “Less, maybe, if we don’t lose much water in the transition.”

“Hear that, ladies?” Roger says. “Use a firm, steady grip. No crushing.”

“Screw off,” Kimberly says, with no real heat.

“Ladies and gentleman,” corrects Tad, with a wink.

“Sorry,” Roger says. “Didn’t want to make any assumptions.” The two men grin at one another.

Okay, I think. Maybe there is a point to these exercises after all. In a boardroom setting, how long would it have taken for that particular conversation to arise?

“Strategy?” Princess prompts.

For some reason when Finn mimes a zipper mouth, they turn to look at me.

“Okay,” I say slowly, thinking aloud. “Let’s start with how to fill the first container. It would be best if someone strong—or several someones—could handle that. And since they’ll be in and out of the water, they’ll need the right kind of footwear.”

Tucker and Finn look at one another and toe off their runners.

“Might be good to have backup in case Finn and Tucker are running relay when we get low,” Princess says.

Roger and Tad follow suit.

“One-minute warning,” Yolanda calls.

“What about running order?” I ask.

Tad shrugs. “Random’s good by me.”

Georgia has been looking very nervous since Tucker’s prediction about the number of laps. She clears her throat. “I’m no good at racing but I’m a damn good squeezer. I’ll go last. You folks best build me up a good margin.”

“Finn should go first, then,” Tucker says. “He’s excellent at running.”

“Whereas you excel at leading from behind,” Finn says.

Into the heavy silence that falls, Princess says, “‘An arrogant man stirs up strife, but he who trusts in the Lord will prosper.’ Proverbs 28:25.”

It’s not clear who she’s addressing, but Finn is the one to speak. “I apologize. I know Tucker from another lifetime and we can get too competitive. I’ll rein it in.”

I doubt it escapes anybody’s notice that Tucker doesn’t issue a similar pledge.

With the deadline approaching, we hastily arrange ourselves. I end up in front of Georgia, who looks extremely stressed.

“It’ll be okay,” I say, giving her arm a squeeze. “It’s just a game.”

“A game that’s going to do in my heart with the running. That is, if my lungs don’t explode first.” She waves a hand when I stiffen. “Oh, don’t fret. I’m not being serious. I’m just mouthing off for sympathy.”

“Besides,” I say, “who cares if we win a bookmark or an off-brand calculator? The whole purpose of this exercise is that we ‘bond.’” I can’t resist using ironic quotation marks.

Her eyes go wide. “Honey, you insane? I don’t give a damn about no bonding. Last year’s winners got a free trip to Cancun with their one-plus. Year before that it was Fiji.”

“Okay, I care too,” I say, just as the whistle goes.

Finn and Tucker seize the white bin and dive for the water, wading in only far enough to submerge the container. For now, at least, they seem to have buried the hatchet.

I shout encouragement while keeping an eye on the other teams, hoping to spot hidden efficiencies so we can exploit them ourselves.

The red and green teams start by sending four people into the water—one person for each corner. Initially it means less slopping, but the red team has trouble coordinating all those bodies in such close proximity. By the time they’ve set their half-empty container on the table, Finn is almost at the far bin with his first loaded sponge.

When my turn comes, I have my sponge deep in the water, ready to go as soon as Kimberly returns. But when I raise the sponge, half its contents drip on me. And there’s a trick to carrying it while running. Move too slowly, you lose water into the sand. Hold the sponge against you, it leaks into your shirt. Hold it cupped in your hands, and it’s a challenge to achieve any real speed.

“Dang, this is going to take forever,” I say, when I’ve returned from my fourth run and Georgia is off, safely out of hearing.

I pluck at my shirt, which is now plastered to my body. “Just what I needed,” I say to Princess with an eye roll. “A corporate wet T-shirt contest.”

Princess’s smile is strained as a voice floats over my shoulder.

“Have an observation you’d care to share, Olivia?”

I know who it is before I turn. Yolanda. “Um, yes, ma’am.” So much for staying in the background. “I’m already a bit uncomfortable having to wear a swimsuit in front of coworkers, but this fabric is nearly transparent when it’s wet.”

“So no white T-shirts in the future. Got it,” she says quite seriously, and jots something down on her clipboard. “Anything else?”

I blink. “Not at the moment.”

Yolanda nods and strides off.

I expel a breath when she’s safely out of range. “Is she always like this?”

“Hell, yeah,” Georgia says between panted breaths. “At least Finn’s close to normal. Yolanda? We’re all scared to death of her.”

Until this point, as best I can tell, we’ve been keeping up with the other teams. On her sixth trip back, though, Kimberly trips and loses a fair bit of time.

“Sorry, guys,” she says sheepishly when she arrives.

“See?” I say to Georgia. “We’re all going to have our struggles today.”

She doesn’t look mollified. Her curls are already damp. Rivulets of sweat pour down her face before disappearing into the collar of her shirt.

“Promise you’ll say if you’re not up to this,” I tell her, and she nods as she tries to catch her breath.

“We need to do something to help her,” I say to the others during Georgia’s next turn. It’s torture watching her struggle.

“So devise a solution, dummy,” Finn says.

I look at him, suddenly alert, and decide to ignore his overly familiar tone. “Meaning that there’s a hack?”

He puts his hands up. “Warm body here. Remember?”

How can I not? My nostrils are registering the scent of clean, healthy Finn and it’s lighting up everything within me. Stupid pheromones.

With an effort, I return to the problem at hand. There has to be a hack. That’s the whole point of these things. Beyond the team-building crap, they want us to gain competence in problem-solving skills.

What were Yolanda’s instructions again? I repeat them to myself under my breath, twice, before it comes to me.

“Guys!” I say excitedly, drawing my team’s attention. “She didn’t specify we had to form a relay. She just said we had to take turns using our sponges to transfer water to the second container. We can start running before the other person is back.”

“Good job, Kibble.” Tucker gives me a gentle punch to the shoulder.

“Kibble?” Finn says with quiet lethality. “As in dog kibble?”

“It’s fine,” I say hastily. “It’s just a childhood nickname. And with all due respect, sir—”

“Finn,” he says, his eyes still lingering on Tucker, and still narrowed.

“Okay, Finn, maybe you should stick to being the warm body.”

“When called for, my body includes my mouth.”

It certainly does. I feel my face burn and drop my gaze.

“Is that cheating?” Kimberly says tentatively.

It takes me a second to realize she’s talking about game strategy.

“Who cares?” Tucker says.

“Come to think of it,” Georgia says slowly, “she didn’t say we had to leave the basin on the picnic table, either. We all assumed that was the rule because of the initial setup.”

“You’re right,” Tad says. “Why can’t we carry the first bin all the way to the end and set it up right beside the other one?”

“More work for us if we’re to carry it that far,” Tucker says to Finn. “You up for it?”

Finn looks insulted. “Please. You’ll be done in before me.”

Tucker’s eyes flare, but for once he channels his anger into action. Five minutes later, while the other teams are still working on half-full bins, we are done and euphoric.

“Oh-ho,” Yolanda says when she comes by. “After you stopped wasting energy on complaints, looks like you found yourselves a solution.” Her face splits into a grin. “Well done, white team. Help yourselves to a cold beverage while the others catch up.”

A few minutes later, she gathers us for a debriefing.

“So what have we learned with this exercise?” Yolanda says, after pronouncing us the winners.

“The white team is full of rule-breakers,” someone shouts.

Yolanda laughs and arches an eyebrow. “Tempting to believe that, but let’s see if it’s true. Does anyone recall the exact wording of the challenge?” When there’s silence, she turns to me. “Olivia?”

“No, sorry,” I say, managing to catch myself in time. But I feel my face flame when Finn looks at me and shakes his head. So he remembers I have a near-photographic memory. I have the uneasy feeling I haven’t fooled Yolanda, either.

“Anyone?” Yolanda asks. When no one volunteers, Yolanda rereads her recipe card aloud. “Right. You’ll notice I said nothing about needing to form a relay and nothing about keeping the bins stationary. Nor did I say you had to restrict yourself to using one sponge per person per run.”

She turns her head to the right. “Red team, if you’d figured that out sooner, you would have given the white team a run for their money.”

Tucker nudges me with his knee. Winning has gone a long way toward banishing his bad mood. “Missed an angle, slacker.”

“Notice how your brain filled those procedural gaps with rules that didn’t exist,” Yolanda says. “So why would that be the case? Where did those rules come from?”

People are noticeably more engaged now, raising their hands, and I have to admire Yolanda’s skill as a facilitator. Within a few minutes she has us concluding that we drew upon behaviors of the other teams, what we’d seen on reality TV, even what we’d done on high school sports teams—in some cases, more than thirty years ago.

“So here are the lessons we want you to take from this afternoon,” Yolanda says. “Number one: your environment will shape your default behaviors. Watch for them and choose them consciously. And number two: always challenge assumptions. For those of you who are wondering about the relevance of these exercises—” her gaze lands briefly on me before moving on “—this is a message we want used in your everyday work-life.” Yolanda produces a different card. “Now, keeping all that in mind, here is your next set of instructions…”

Georgia turns to me when we stand. “What did you do to be teacher’s pet,” she says in an undertone. “I want whatever you have.”

“Trust me, you don’t,” I say, because the only assumption I can draw is that Finn told her about our past. For the rest of the afternoon, though our team continues to win, I work extra hard at projecting boring competence.

Chapter 9

Finn

By the end of the afternoon, when Yolanda dismisses the crew, the white team is leading by a considerable margin. In good part that’s due to Liv. She’s smart, capable, and a natural leader, not to mention compassionate. It hasn’t escaped me how often she’s spurred to creativity out of a desire to take care of her team.

As the others disperse, I linger behind to help with the equipment. I’ve promised myself I won’t influence Yolanda’s opinion, but that doesn’t mean I can’t solicit hers.

“Preliminary thoughts?” I say, as I place a stack of bins on a banquet table.

Yolanda looks up from the traffic cones she is sorting into net bags. “On anyone in particular?”

I close my eyes briefly. “Really? You’re gonna make me say it?”

“What do you think?” She laughs openly at me and then takes pity. “She’s a pistol. A pistol with a suppressor.”

“You noticed that, too.”

“Of course,” she says. “Any idea why she’s self-censoring?”

I shake my head. Everything about Liv feels like a mystery right now, from why she’s comparatively quiet, to why she lets Tucker call her by that horrible name, to whether I’ve been wrong for a decade about—

“Oh, hell,” I say. “You have a blank consent form lying around?”

“In the blue tote under that table. Why?”

“Because I’m an idiot.”

I’d started off watching Liv to resolve the southpaw issue but it had been surprisingly difficult to establish her preference. She’d push her hair back with her left hand, then pull her T-shirt down with the right. She’d carry a sponge in her left hand, then squeeze it with both. Then her T-shirt got wet, and I’d been so busy watching the warm, round shape of her bouncing down the beach, that I forgot all about establishing her innocence.

But I shouldn’t have. Darcy is expecting a phone call, and I need answers. Wakefield deserves answers.

I find Liv by the closest pool, rinsing her feet off with the low tap. As I approach and my shadow looms over her, she looks up.

There’s a moment when she recognizes me and her expression betrays her—one instant of longing and lust before she shutters her gaze. I’m not the only one, then, feeling this burst of nostalgia and attraction. A hearkening back to better times.

All the more reason, then, to settle the issue of her handedness.

“Some of your paperwork went missing,” I say. “Mind signing this for me again?”

“Sure.” She dries her hands on her towel and takes the clipboard and pen. “Shouldn’t I have done this before?”

“Pardon?” I’ve been too busy watching her sign with her right hand to be listening attentively.

“Shouldn’t I have signed this before you had me running in the hot sun?”

“Right. Yolanda asked me to do it earlier but I forgot.”

“You seem to be having a problem with that,” she says.

I blink. “Problem with what?”

“Forgetting.” When I look at her blankly she holds up the clipboard and pen meaningfully.

“Right.” I take them from her, feeling like three kinds of idiot, willing my feet to move and take me away from her and back to the land of dignity.

I have everything I need for now, Darcy’s expecting a call, but…I’m actually considering doing the very thing I told Darcy he couldn’t. Except whereas he’d potentially offend or frighten Liv, I could invite her out for coffee and slip in some gentle questioning.

Ten years ago, on or about the fifth of March, did you spray paint the words “Fin Wakefield” in fluorescent orange on my driveway? (“Fin,” as in the French word for “end,” when you damn well know how to spell my name.) Or if it wasn’t you, did you employ a body-double to commit the dirty deed on your behalf?

Right. The addition of Jamaican caffeine would make that go over exceptionally well.

It’s a stupid idea. Incredibly dumb. Plus, if she’s a stalker after attention, I’d only be setting myself up for trouble.

On the other hand, I’m having a hard time believing that the woman in front of me means me harm.

I take a deep breath. “Liv—” I say, at the exact time she says, “Finn, I’d like you to stop needling Tucker.”

Aw, hell.

“I know he’s being antagonistic—”

“I’m glad you can see that much,” I say.

“—but you know what my mama says—”

“Not really, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

“—it’s harder to be held under a thumb when the thumbnail is carefully manicured.”

I stick the clipboard between my knees and show her my hands, which, while clean and neat, have yet to see a professional.

“So to speak,” she says.

“I don’t hold Tucker down,” I say. “I pay him at a level commensurate with his duties. See the difference?”

And god, this is crazy, but this tug of war over Tucker, it’s bringing back memories, too. Her cheeks are flushed from the sun and from the heat of combat, and her eyes are that warm hazel I remember so well. Now that she’s agitated, compelled to defend the underdog as she always will, her breathing is deeper, making the round swells of her breasts just that much more inviting.

I have to retrieve the clipboard from between my knees and anchor it casually over my lap to hide a growing hard-on, because I remember how arguments over Tucker used to end. Does she?

“You’ve always been determined to see his bad side,” she says. “But as his boss you need to drop your animosity.”

Do I? I think. And then, lecherously, What’s it worth to you?

“Look at what happened this afternoon. We wouldn’t have won most of those challenges without him. He was a steady contributor, and kind to Georgia.”

“You set the tone for that,” I say. “The others followed your lead, including Tucker.”

“Not true.”

“Oh, come on, Liv. Be honest. Tucker’s the kind of guy who’d hug her while skimming her credit card.”

She shrugs and her mouth flattens as she tries to hide a grin. I notice she doesn’t dispute the analysis.

“Talking about me?” says a voice, and of course it’s Tucker. He is languishing in the shade not five feet from us, leaning a tanned shoulder against the frame of an empty lifeguard chair.

This is being like hit with a déjà-vu stick—me and Liv, attempting to have fun or dig into a serious conversation, and Tucker inserting himself into the proceedings, no matter how unwelcome.

“As a matter of fact,” I say, “we’re debating your essential nature.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows climb out from under his sunglasses. “Want to have one about yours?”

“Tucker,” Liv warns.

“About how you make promises and abandon people—”

“Right,” I say. “A dire family illness isn’t—”

“Stop,” Liv says with surprising authority, her hands on her hips. “Both of you. We’re attracting attention. May I remind you that we are teammates?” To Tucker she says, “I’ll fight my own battles, thank you very much. And get a grip. He’s your boss.”

“He wouldn’t fire me for an honest assessment,” Tucker says. “Truth to power, right, Finnegan? Or does Wakefield abandon that principle once we’re off the beach?”

“Please,” Liv says, in real distress. “This is not the time or place to be swinging dicks.”

“She’s right,” Tucker says.

“Yes, she is,” I say. And maybe this is part of the old pattern, too, but I hear myself add, “Which is why we should take this elsewhere. Marley’s. 8:30 tonight.”

“For what?” Tucker sniggers. “Karaoke?”

“I was thinking we’d torture our guts instead of our ears,” I say.

“Drinking?”

I nod.

“You sure you want to go that route, Finnegan? I used to be able to drink you under the table.”

“Let’s find out if it’s still true.” I turn to Liv. “You going to come and supervise us? Make sure we don’t murder each other?”

She makes a sound of disgust and gathers her belongings. “I’d sooner sit on a thousand cocktail forks.” Off she stomps, at least as much as a person can stomp while wearing flip-flops.

“Well, that’s unexpected,” I say to Tucker. We’ve both swung to watch Liv’s disappearing, swaying bottom. “What’ll we fight about if not her?”

Tucker seems equally mystified.

Chapter 10

Finn

Macho impulse was behind my challenge to Tucker, but as the time to meet him approaches, I become convinced it was the right move. Tucker has always pushed my buttons because he’s got Liv hoodwinked. I push his buttons because he sees me as a lily-livered interloper unworthy of Liv’s heart.

But Liv and I aren’t together anymore and I’m his boss now. It’s time we reestablish the power dynamics in a way he’ll respect, and that won’t get either of us thrown into jail. Otherwise, he’ll continue to undermine my authority, just because, and I’ll have no choice but to fire him.

I don’t like to fire anybody.

I especially don’t want to fire someone who reportedly has a mother and little brother depending upon his paycheck.

But drinking? Drinking is one language Tucker understands. And when I show up at the bar ten minutes early, from the glass on the table and the glint in his eye, it’s a language he’s already been speaking. Good news for me. I go to the gym now and have a few pounds of muscle on him, but in the booze department I’m a comparative non-practitioner.

In anticipation of the resort’s talent night, Marley’s is humming. Tucker has chosen an outside table with a prime view of the stage and dance floor.

He raises his glass to me and tosses back the amber liquid, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Have a seat, Finnegan.” When I don’t move, he says, “What’s the matter? Need the staff to dust your chair?”

“We have reservations.” I point to the one empty table on the patio, which I had set aside earlier.

“What’s wrong with this spot?”

I let my gaze rest meaningfully on the planter behind him, with the ocean just beyond that. Two easy places for him to ditch a drink, whereas my chair, notably, is surrounded by plain cobblestone. “Fool me twice…” I say.

He throws back his head in a laugh before scraping back his chair. “Wondered if you’d remember that night.” He follows me amiably to the other table, rubbernecking as two stacked blondes claim the seats we vacated.

“Now, isn’t this romantic?” I say, when we are seated with a candle flickering between us. “Whatever shall we talk about?”

“Let’s start with what we’ll drink after this round,” he says. Just then, one of the servers arrives with a tray and two shot glasses filled to the brim with clear liquid. Tucker gives her a wink. “I took the liberty of ordering us a starter. Vodka, Finnegan?”

“Nah.” I’m thinking of the bartender who dosed me with Tabasco sauce the other night. What are the chances one glass is filled with water and the other with booze? I’m not about to get into a Princess-Bride-type standoff with drinks. “If we’re doing this, might as well have a top-shelf headache tomorrow.”

I lift my hand and Reginald, who’s been awaiting my signal, glides out of the shadows. He shoos the other server away before setting down two empty glasses and a sealed bottle.

Appleton Estate 21. It’s a crime to drink rum of this quality in a booze-off, especially from a shot glass rather than a brandy snifter. But I’m trying to make a not-so-subtle point to Tucker. I think it works, because he looks impressed.

“Need anything else, Mr. Wakefield?” Reginald asks as I peel off the seal.

“Got an iron stomach you can loan me?”

“Afraid not.”

“Then I think we’re good.”

As Reginald nods and glides away, and I uncork the bottle, Tucker seems to find this hilarious. “So it’s true. You have learned a few things over the years.”

As I pour the drinks I try to assess him dispassionately. He’s smart, I’ve always known that, and he has matured into a good-looking guy. Dark hair, tall, and broad-shouldered, with that brooding disposition favored by certain women.

“Salud,” I say, and we toss one back. The copper-colored rum is rich and citrusy, with spicy undernotes. I hope tonight won’t turn me off the taste of nutmeg forever.

“Yeah,” I say. “I was pretty fresh-faced when we met.” Fresh-faced and idealistic. Ripe pickings for a guy who was willing to fight dirty to expose my naiveté to Liv. But then, from what Liv said, Tucker learned that at home, from a stepfather who made my old man look like a saint.

“I’ll say,” he replies. “I’ll never forget the time when…”

As he launches into a tale of my ineptness, I tune him out. Basically, the guy could talk for an hour without running out of Tucker-humiliates-Finn stories.

During my summer with Liv, in my quest to contribute financially while remaining invisible to my father, I worked as a day laborer. It was hard work with minimal pay and often worse safety conditions. Especially when I ended up working alongside Tucker.

Is he telling the one about how he tricked me into reversing the pump on the vacuum truck, so that I got sprayed by septic tank waste? Or the one where I was so busy moving hay bales, trying to show him I could keep up, that I didn’t notice he’d let the bull into the pasture? The way he tells that last anecdote, I nearly had my short-and-curlies parted by two tons of living beef.

The way he tells it isn’t that wrong.

“Yeah, pretty sad,” I say when he winds down. “But to give credit where credit is due, I owe a lot of my present success to you.”

His head rockets back and the smile falls from his face. “Oh?”

It gives me a thrill to see his smugness dimmed, however momentarily. “Yup.” I pour us another round. “You taught me a lot. Thanks to you, when I took over the company, I knew I needed to be more hands-on than I would have been otherwise. I made a point of hiring people who came from a practical background—life-smart, not just school-smart.” I lift my glass. “Here’s to you, with my thanks for making me the man I’ve become.”

For once he doesn’t have a quick comeback.

We sit in silence for a while, drinking another couple of rounds as the talent show gets under way. First up is a geriatric juggler. Then a cute kid on a mouth organ. Then a redhead in a sparkly dress. I cringe as her background music begins. I’m not plastered enough for the theme from The Bodyguard.

Tucker has other things on his mind. “Look at the tits on that thing. Course, they aren’t as spectacular as Liv’s.”

In the past, I wouldn’t have been sure how much of Tucker’s talk was designed to provoke, versus him being a truthful, kiss-and-tell bastard. Tonight I’m certain he’s talking BS because of what Liv said by the gate. Not only that, seeing her this afternoon on the beach, she treats him like a brother.

I decide to see how far he’ll carry his boast. “You and Liv an item?”

“What do you think, asshole. After you dumped her, she got lonely.”

Yeah, whereas Liv always amazed me with her lack of bitterness, he fails the test. He knows damn well I didn’t leave her. I felt torn in two when those suits showed at Ada’s door. Torn between duty and a promising destiny with Liv.

Duty only won because it had been given a month to live.

Not for the first time, I wonder if Tucker is the reason Liv turned on me, and if turning on me wasn’t exactly rational, it could be understandable. How strong would I have stayed if I’d been hearing this kind of garbage day in and day out?

The redhead is switched out for a tap-dancing family dressed like flamingos. I shake my head and pour another round. Imagine packing tap shoes and pink fluff for Jamaica.

“So tell me something,” I say. “Why isn’t Liv here with us? Nerm—” My lips are growing numb, so I have to begin again. “Nermally she’d be here making sure we don’t kill each other.”

“Not sure. Stuff to do. Call her mom.” He waves expansively. “Stuff?”

A snort escapes me. “Is this a technical term?”

“Very technical,” he assures me.

I ponder that for a while. “And another thing—why is she so quiet now?”

“She talks,” he says indignantly, as if I’ve accused Liv of bestiality, or crimes warranting similar revulsion.

“I know that. I mean…people in the company don’t seem to know her very well.”

“Aloof,” he says, pronouncing it with a little kick at the end, like a mini wolf howl. “You were looking for the word ‘aloof.’ So much for that fancy educumation.”

I shrug.

“She’s the same as she’s always been,” he says.

I shake my head, blinking when Tucker briefly morphs into two.

“’S true,” Tucker assures me. “Know what they call her behind her back?”

I ease back in my chair. “Do I wanna know?”

“Only if you like to laugh.” He waves me closer. Closer still. “They call her Miss Priss, or Miss Prisser. Also, the Livsicle.” When he chuckles, I get a whiff of his breath. It has to be thirty-proof, at least. “And Vinny in Drafting? He says if she was another four rungs higher, we’d call her Madam Ice President.” He goes off into hysterics that earn him knowing glances from the blondes.

“Stop,” I say, and hold up a flat hand, like a traffic cop. I am affronted on Liv’s behalf. “You’re supposed to be on her side. You should be defendering her.”

“I can be a friend,” he assures me, “and still know there’s an icicle up her tw—”

“Careful.” I’m on my feet now—swaying, but on my feet. I can feel the weight of curious stares, meaning I’ve probably crossed into the talking-too-loud stage of drunkenness. I drop my voice to a harsh whisper. “Don’t talk that way about her or—”

“Or what?” He widens his eyes in an expression of exaggerated fear.

“I’m gonna forget you’re an employee.” I rap the table with my knuckles. “Call you outside.”

Tucker snorts and points to the stars wheeling overhead, the ocean glimmering in the moonlight.

“The other outside.”

He leans back in his chair, his arms linked around his glass, his expression suddenly avid. “You want to take me on?”

I had been joking. Mostly. But suddenly I can’t see a reason not to. At my sides, my fists clench involuntarily. I’ll look like a coward if I back down. And in a way, this moment feels inevitable, like we’ve been working up to a physical confrontation for an entire decade. “Let’s do it.”

But the bastard has dropped his head, so that he’s not even looking at me. For some unfathomable reason, his watch is consuming all his attention.

“Am I boring you with my offer of violence?” I say.

“Not at all. But I think you’ve forgotten something.”

A sense of unease penetrates the liquor fog enveloping my brain. I’m three-quarters of the way to loaded. By Tucker’s increasingly slurred speech, I thought he’d been similarly affected. But that last sentence came out clear as a car alarm on a cold winter’s night. Has Tucker been gaslighting me?

I’ve just reached this conclusion when he slides his watch-bearing arm forward, so that it’s illuminated by the candle.

I blink.

There’s a mosquito on his forearm, riding the crest of flesh created when he pinched his skin. Her proboscis is deeply buried, her belly already a rich crimson.

Tucker smirks. “Better sit down, Finnegan. You’re looking a little wobbly.”

What I am is hot, which is always the first harbinger of a fainting spell. Even now I can feel my heartbeat slowing.

I don’t move, other than to reach out blindly and seize the neck of the bottle of Appleton. I hold the container to my forehead, taking comfort in its comparative cool. I try to remember the breathing exercises the psychologist taught me. Inwardly I’m chanting, That’s not my blood. That’s not my blood.

“Cool trick, huh?” Tucker says conversationally. “This guy I knew back in Springfield told me about it. See, this mosquito comes along and she thinks she’s pretty damn slick. She’s got thousands of years of breeding behind her, all designed to keep you from noticing what she’s doing, that she’s sucking your life’s blood out—the best of you—while you’re drinking in a bar in Jamaica, say, or off at school, trying to be the first in three generations to graduate college. But what she doesn’t know is this: when you grab here, just like this, she can’t pull out her sucker.”

Not my blood. Not my blood. “Proboscis.” My voice comes out faintly. “It’s called a proboscis.”

“You say ‘proboscis,’ I say ‘pretentious.’” He stares steadily at me, his eyes simultaneously threatening and mesmerizing. “The point is, the mosquito only thinks it’s getting away with something.”

I feel a wave of advancing nausea. My skin prickles, and my eyelids won’t obey the command to close.

“But soon her belly will be full and she’ll start to panic. A few seconds from now, she’s going to pop. Just think, Finnegan. Blood on my shirt, blood on my arm, blood on the tablecloth—”

“Yeah, I heard that story, too,” I say. “Only, turns out it was a lie.”

And somehow I find the will to move. While he’s got his one arm splayed on the table for demonstration purposes, and the other immobilized in the pinch, I tilt the bottle in my hand while shifting my weight to my back foot.

My aim is true, thank god. A small stream of liquor hits the candle and, because I paid for the high-test stuff, it readily ignites.

In the resulting flambé, several people at a nearby table scream. A server comes running and hastily takes the bottle from my hand. She upends salt upon the small scrap of tablecloth that was set alight, while another staff member advances with a fire extinguisher.

My nostrils register singed fabric. Maybe singed flesh?

Most importantly, Tucker scrambles backward, nearly overturning his chair in the process. There’s so much activity I don’t even track the mosquito as she wings her way to freedom.

“Bravo,” a familiar voice says to my right. “You saved me from having to slap him.”

“Liv!” I say happily.

She’s got her arms folded over her chest and Reginald behind her, his face as impassive as ever.

She addresses Tucker. “So in this scenario, am I the mosquito, the arm, or the blood? Never mind,” she says before he can open his mouth. “You two are drunk and you’ve outworn your welcome. Ergo, this evening is at an end.”

Chapter 11

Liv

In a development that shocks precisely no one, Finn and Tucker can’t agree on who I am to accompany back to their room. This is just one of the reasons I didn’t want to come here tonight; the role of wishbone became tiresome a decade ago. But the matter is settled when Finn, flushed with triumph, asserts his authority as our boss.

“Fine,” I say, as Tucker drifts away. I had hoped to be present when he discovers his missing half eyebrow, but tomorrow will provide ample opportunity to mock him. He’ll deserve it, too, for exploiting Finn’s phobia like that.

I address Reginald, who was quick to respond when I called earlier for help. “Pour some coffee into Tucker, will you? And don’t leave until he’s sober. I don’t want him deciding on a midnight swim and accidentally drowning himself.”

Reginald nods agreement and moves away with his eerily smooth gait.

“Hey, Tucker,” Finn calls after them. He waits until Tucker has turned. “The water’s really nice this time of night. You should go for a splash.”

When he cracks himself up, I bite my lips rather than smile. “You’re awful.”

“Awfully glad to see you,” he says, grinning.

No doubt it’s the liquor talking, but his easy affection gives my heart a pang. It’s been panging a lot today.

Since he’s been ignoring my cues to leave, I grab his hand and tug him gently toward his villa. The path takes us across a corner of the dance floor, which is starting to fill up now that the talent show has finished and the house band has taken over. They’re playing a slow, sultry song.

“C’mon, Liv. Let’s dance,” Finn says.

I hope Reginald isn’t the only one with an unreadable face. In the dim lighting, Finn looks dangerously close to the boy I fell in love with and my throat tightens with unwelcome emotion. Dang. I stayed away from the men earlier because I can’t afford to indulge in pointless hopes and dreams. And as it is, by being here, I’m already running the risk of becoming a subject of the Wakefield rumor mill. I need to get Finn back to the villa and bring this evening to a close.

“You’re drunk,” I say, trying to keep it light.

“And you’re observant.”

Somehow, I get him to move on without him taking me in his arms.

But we don’t get far before encountering yet another distraction. This time Finn tugs me to a stop at a vendor’s in the resort’s square. While he’s inspecting wind chimes and cups carved from coconut husks, I slip away to the nearby cafe. I bring him back a Blue Mountain coffee—black, laced liberally with sugar. He sips it appreciatively and moves on to a clothing booth.

Is it my imagination, or is he already looking clearer-eyed? If I’m lucky, he won’t need me much longer.

My optimism vanishes when he sets down his coffee. He picks up a bright Rastafarian cap with fake dreadlocks protruding from under the brim. Normally he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing such a thing, but tonight he smoothes it over his dark hair as the saleswoman smiles indulgently.

“What do you think?” he says, turning to me. “Should I buy it?”

“Definitely not,” I say, with an apologetic smile to the store proprietor.

“Cultural appropriation?” he says, slurring his Rs.

“I don’t know about that, but it doesn’t suit you.” There’s a clear mismatch between his clean-cut features and the vibe of the hat.

He smoothes the dreads. “I look like party guy. Chill.”

“I like uptight Finn just fine.”

His response is to seize another cap—a vibrant pink twin to his multi-colored one—and try to place it on my head. I laugh and dance backward, stepping quickly out of reach.

“Liv.” He clucks his tongue and shakes his head in exaggerated disapproval until I roll my eyes and submit. “There,” he says with satisfaction. He rearranges the fake hair to suit him and one clump falls over the swell of my breast. His gaze rests there for an indecently long time as I struggle to keep my breathing even. He lifts his eyes and for an instant, our gazes catch and hold. “Lucky dread,” he says thickly.

Then behind me, something catches his attention and he’s off.

Wincing, I pull the hat from my head and thrust some cash at the saleswoman for the cap Finn is still wearing. I hurry after him. He has arrived at the resort’s parrot cage and is trying to wake the sleeping birds with a series of squawks and calls.

“Shhh,” I say, through my laughter. “You’re going to regret this tomorrow when you have to look your employees in the face.” I catch his hand again, intending to tug him toward the villa.

“Protecting me from myself, Liv?”

That halts me in my tracks. Tucker says something similar to me all the time, and I dismiss it because it’s…well, Tucker, and he’s not exactly known for his empathy. But this is Finn, and though he might not be in full charge of his faculties, there was a note of long-harbored resentment there. But do we really want to open up this conversation? Isn’t it better to leave well enough alone?

Then I notice we have attracted the attention of a few people from the Wakefield retreat, and that I am holding Finn’s hand.

I casually let go of him. By the time I’ve coaxed him into the private part of the resort, it feels like the moment for frank discussion has passed.

But we’ve just navigated the gate when Finn pulls his hat off and blocks the path. “You should have come with me when I left,” he announces.

I swallow. I guess we are doing this now. “I couldn’t, Finn. You know that. My mama—

“Needed you. I know.”

I’m surprised at his tone. He knows how tough things were back then. That Mama already had a warning from the county and was one misstep away from having her house condemned and her beloved dogs seized. If I’d obeyed my heart, she would have lost everything that keeps her tethered to this world.

“I needed you too, ” Finn says.

“It sure didn’t seem like it,” I say with feeling, then hear the emotion in my voice. Okay. Apparently Finn isn’t the only one with dirty laundry to air.

“My fault. I was trying not to be a drain on you. But it didn’t help that we could never talk.”

Another mistake on my part.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take your money,” I say. At one point, Finn sent a messenger with a check, so I could buy a cell phone and we could connect more reliably. But when I was signing for it, the man oozed contempt as he gazed at our house, and my pride kicked in. “I just felt so ashamed.”

“Know what I used to wonder?” he says, without any indication he heard me.

I shake my head.

“Whether you’d have come if I pretended I was desperate. I know how much you like to take care of people. Maybe you wanted a project instead of a husband.”

“That’s what you think?” I am stung.

“No. That’s what I thought. But I was a dumb kid back then. Stupid and looking for reasons to be hurt. Nowadays I would say you’re a good person with a compassionate heart. You never give up on anybody, Liv.” He seizes my hand and pulls it to his mouth for a quick kiss. “That’s probably why the jewelry store hit me so hard.”

Ah, yes. The jewelry store. A day that started with such good intentions on my part and ended with me making the second stupidest mistake of my life.

After four months of our schedules not meshing, and Finn reporting himself to be too busy to leave Jacksonville, I had taken matters into my own hands. I needed to see him. I needed his arms around me to drive out the voices in my head—the ones growing ever louder that insisted he would never return.

My car hadn’t been working and Tucker needed his, so I spent precious cash to rent a vehicle. I’d blown off work in the diner—yet another decision I couldn’t afford—and left for Jacksonville before midnight on the Friday.

When I arrived, Finn’s house had been so imposing I’d been taken aback. This wasn’t the kind of place you went charging up to the door, hair awry because the rental’s AC wasn’t working, with huge bags under your eyes, in unpressed jeans that hadn’t been in style when purchased six years earlier.

But I had regrouped. For Pete’s sake, Finn had lived in my mama’s house to be with me. He was no shirker when it came to love. In return, I wouldn’t be a simpering coward.

So I sat in the rental, pulled out my hairbrush, and got to work.

I still wonder what would have happened if I’d been done fixing my hair before he emerged. But as it was, I resembled a half-tamed Ewok when he came out with a woman. A gorgeous blonde in her early twenties. Far from resembling the overburdened, overworked man I’d understood him to be, he’d been all smiles, all Finn-gentility as he helped her into the passenger seat of a white convertible.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I told myself. “Finn is as true and honest as the day is long.”

But with my present state of dishevelment, I couldn’t make myself get out of the car to greet him, and as he drove away, I made the decision to follow him and ply my hairbrush at red lights.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I said twenty minutes later, when he pulled up in front of a jewelery store. I said it again when he went inside, his arm around the woman’s shoulders as she chattered away excitedly. And when she leaned into his chest.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I said from my vantage point at the front window, where I watched them proceed to the ring section. But by the time it became clear that the woman already had a sizable rock on her left hand, and that it was Finn trying on wedding bands, I’d run out of affirmative talk.

Tucker often rails against the system, and for the most part, I dismiss his rantings as paranoid and defeatist. How does it help to believe the world is rigged against you, or that you’ll never have a better life than the one your parents occupy? But every once in a while, when I’m at a personal low and someone revels in making me feel small, I feel my veins flood with incandescent rage. And it’s like my brain peels back to everything except my vital functions and the need to get revenge in a way that won’t cost me. So I’ll smile at the woman who’s been a bitch to me at the grocery checkout and squeeze her pears as I bag them. The passive-aggressive payback of a woman who feels powerless.

I can only conclude I was in a pear-squeezing mood that morning.

Most of what happened after that is vague in my mind. I recall returning to the rental and looking around for a weapon. I recall finding two and deploying them. I recall standing beside the convertible to await Finn’s reaction, and how his welcoming face quickly turned to shock, then anger, when he saw what I’d done. I remember the shouted words “friend’s fiancée,” “overseas,” and “proxy.” I remember knowing—being absolutely clear—that a good deal of his storm and fury came from embarrassment. Because the blonde looked on as he gave me a tongue-lashing, and she looked at me like I was a homeless person who intended to do her harm.

But this was all ten years ago, and I’ve worked hard to forgive myself. I’ve paid the personal price for my rage and stupidity.

I have also apologized.

When I say as much to Finn, he says, “But I haven’t?”

“Haven’t what?”

“Apologized. For what I said to you in the heat of the moment. It was unforgivable of me to use the c-word.”

Crazy. That’s what he called me at the end. He knew how much that label hurt when people applied it to Mama, and how much I hated knowing they were watching me, waiting to see if I’d be afflicted, too. Yet he’d still used it during the height of our argument. Of course, I’d just decorated his car’s white upholstery with two gallons of grape soda, but he’d gone there in front of his pretty friend.

He touches my cheek. “I still remember your face. I knew it was a low blow then. I’m truly sorry, Liv.”

I search his expression for a long time. He seems sincere. I don’t think it’s the booze talking, either. He doesn’t seem that inebriated. And all afternoon, on the beach, I’ve felt his attitude toward me softening.

I nod. I take a deep breath, and it’s like my lungs haven’t felt this open in a decade. “You’re forgiven.”

He releases me and falls back a step. “Just like that? After ten years?”

I have to smile. “Should we make it eleven?”

He laughs softly. “Guess not.” He shakes his head. “You’re amazing.”

We’re at the front of the villa and finally moving again, and I cast around for a change of subject. The mangoes glow a soft yellow in the moonlight. I duck my head and gently palm one. “These are going to be ripe in a few days. Do you get dibs on them?”

“I probably would, except I won’t be here.”

Another reminder not to fall under the spell of moonlight and regret. In forty-eight hours or so, I’ll be catching a red-eye home to Columbus. I’ll go back to my former life and probably see Finn, at most, once or twice a year, when he blazes through our office for high-level meetings. Now there’s a depressing thought.

“Right,” I make myself say briskly. “Does your kitchen have coffee? I can make you another one. Or I can call room service for you.”

“I’m good. My buzz is nearly gone.”

I nod. He’s been noticeably better in the last few minutes with his speech and his movements. Must be that male metabolism and all that male muscle.

“If you need to head out, I promise I won’t wander into the ocean,” he says.

I believe him. Finn doesn’t have Tucker’s impulsivity, or his self-destructive streak. “Okay,” I say, jerking my thumb in the direction of my room. “I’ll just—”

“Come up to the roof with me.”

I blink and let my arm fall. Maybe I was wrong about the self-destructiveness.

He has his hands in his pockets. “It’s past sunset but we can sit outside together, watch the ocean. It’ll be like old times.”

I should say no. This trip has given me more closure than I ever dreamed of and I should quit while I’m ahead. Not to mention that this isn’t the way to stay hidden in plain sight.

“I’m offering as a former friend, of course, and not your employer,” he says.

He’s infinitely more dangerous as a friend.

Our family doesn’t handle regret well. My mama’s psychologist likens her mind to a spawning salmon—one that has failed to appreciate the stream she was born into dried up long ago. When caught in regret, mostly to do with thoughts around losing my dad, or more current failures, she’ll spend endless hours flinging herself against reality. Eventually she’ll stop, battered and winded, resigned to making her home in the inferior river downstream. Then comes the fun part: dealing with the consequences of her prowling or hoarding.

But for me? Going down the regret route is more like enduring an alcoholic binge. I won’t sleep. I’ll get tangled up in thoughts around what ifs and if I only hads. For days after, I’ll fight a headache, feel dispirited and wrung dry. If I go with Finn, I’ll be asking for a humdinger of a regret hangover, I know this.

But I can’t make myself take a step away. I can’t make my mouth form the word No. And after a time, as Finn waits as patiently as his younger self would have done, I give him my hand and lead him inside.

Chapter 12

Liv

In the kitchen, Finn grabs himself a bottled water and pours me a glass of crisp Riesling. Then we climb the stairs in the darkened house to the roof, where Finn wrestles a rattan love seat to the western railing.

It’s peaceful up here. There’s enough moonlight to make out the calm ocean and the palm fronds dancing in the gentle breeze. I can hear doves cooing, and behind us, the gentle hum of the pool pump.

I’m also hyper-aware of the man sitting next to me.

After a time, Finn breaks the silence. “The sun goes down a lot faster here than in Stonybrook.”

“A lot of things are different.” I use my chin to indicate the pool behind us, and the lavish grounds below.

“Not the important things,” he says, with a meaningful glance at me.

I decide to ask the question that’s been on my mind since noon. “So what changed from yesterday, when you were threatening my job?”

He hesitates, shrugs. “Spending time with you. Seeing you in action on the beach. You’re impressive, Liv. You always were.”

Our glances catch and hold.

In the bungalow in Ohio, there had been no TV in the house—no room for storing one, sometimes not even the money for electricity. And with the kitchen under siege from my mama’s possessions, plus my ongoing fear of fire, it was our habit to cook outside as much as possible. In the winter we used the barbecue, in summer, the backyard fire pit. We ate simple fare. Grits in the frying pan, potatoes from the coals, bean chili. Or soup from the wilted vegetables that Mr. White from the Ready Mart would let me take home.

These things had become such a way of life for us that even when Finn joined us and the money was easier, we continued in the same vein. In our evenings together, while my mama let the dogs gambol about, we’d cook and eat while talking over the day’s events—the antics of the kids I was babysitting, the fresh challenges of whatever job Finn had taken on, my mama’s progress on the current pile she was “organizing,” or an exciting lead she had on a prospective dog adopter.

Then, as the sun prepared to set, Mama would claim fatigue. She’d put the dogs in their kennels and disappear inside. And Finn and I would linger in the gathering dark, seated on a patchwork quilt on a lawn that smelled of dog. We’d kiss—quick pecks and long, open-mouthed explorations. We’d let our hands roam and become as carefree and as frolicsome as tumbling puppies. When the need for privacy grew too acute, we’d move to the shed in the back, where we’d come together in urgent and delirious couplings.

I’m smiling at the memory when Finn speaks. “For the longest time I couldn’t smell bug repellent without being aroused.”

Apparently our minds have been meandering down similar paths. “Yeah?” I say on a laugh. “Eau de lust?” I take the last sip of my wine. “For me it was roasted marshmallows.”

His teeth flash in a smile. “I can check the pantry downstairs if you like. They keep it well-stocked.”

I shake my head. “That won’t be necessary.”

“No?”

I can tell he is disappointed, but Finn was always a gentleman. “His heart is whole,” my mama used to say of him, leaving the unlike Tucker part unspoken.

The wine has made me mellow, and I’ve been half-slumped in the love seat. Now I straighten. I’m going to regret this in the morning, and possibly for many days to come, but I knew what I was going to do when I accepted Finn’s invitation.

I set my glass down on the patio.

At some point in the last hour, Finn pulled off the ridiculous hat and let it puddle to the left of his feet. I bend to retrieve it now, reaching over him, resting one hand on his knee for balance. I feel his abrupt intake of breath when my fingers make contact, and his absolute stillness when my breast brushes his leg.

His eyes glitter with heat and remain unswervingly on mine as I straighten. I smooth the cap over his hair and wind my hands in the faux dreads. Then I slowly recline, pulling him down to me.

“Oh, Liv,” he says on a groan as his pelvis meets the cradle of mine. “God.”

I couldn’t speak if I tried, too overcome with the welcome weight of him, the warmth of him. It has been too long. A decade. A lifetime.

When he bends to me, an errant strand of fake hair lands between our mouths, and while I laugh, he is all impatience now. One arm comes up and the hat is just gone, whizzing off into the starlight to join the bats and the darting insects. Our lips finally meet.

His mouth is firm and warm. He tastes of rum and Finn and a time when I had so very little but felt so very hopeful. He tastes of home.

What are you doing, Liv? a little voice says. He’s your boss, which poses a whole set of problems. And you’re lying to him. He doesn’t even know who he’s kissing.

But Finn shifts the angle of his mouth and our tongues touch. Something breaks loose in us both. I spear my fingers through his real hair, marveling at how he can be soft in some places, yet necessarily hard in others.

After a time, he ducks his head and nuzzles my neck, behind my ear. My breath is coming in quick pants as he follows a tendon down to my shoulder. He nips me, then uses his teeth to untie the strap of my sundress.

“That silly shoestring has been driving me crazy,” he says, and I laugh, extraordinarily glad I was wearing something pretty when I hopped into rescue mode.

While he’s working on the other strap, I run a finger around the shell of his ear and find the rough spot I noticed earlier. “What happened here? And here?” I gently stroke the bruise on his forehead.

He stiffens momentarily then shakes his head. “Later.” Then his mouth is on me, his tongue laving my nipple, and the stars reconfigure themselves as I go cross-eyed.

As he moves to the other breast, I glide my hands down his back, to where his shirt meets his pants. I tunnel under the fabric, lower still, feeling the smooth skin of his buttocks. His muscles flex as we both seek more friction.

Finn pulls back his head. Most of his face is in shadow, but his mouth is wet and swollen. “Come to bed with me,” he says, in a voice grown hoarse.

“A bed? Imagine that.”

He stands and adjusts an impressive erection before holding out a hand to me. I run a playful finger up his bulge, then place my fingers in his, gasping as I’m abruptly pulled to my feet and upended over his shoulder. The top of a palm tree goes bobbing past, followed by another. In my last glimpse of the rooftop patio, I see the hat lying splayed in the pool like a stationary, Rastafarian octopus.

He is sure-footed on the stairs and then we are in the master bedroom, facing one another in dappled moonlight.

“I want that dress off. Now,” he says.

I raise an eyebrow. “So impatient.” Since my bodice is already around my waist, it’s but the work of a moment to comply. And then I am naked except for a scrap of lace.

Finn’s eyes say there’s nothing about my fifteen extra pounds that he doesn’t appreciate.

“Your turn,” I say, and go to provide assistance. He starts on his shirt buttons while I grab his belt. I’ve worked the hasp free when a sound permeates the room, making me jump. It’s coming from behind Finn, from his rear pocket.

A ringtone. Big Ben, if I’m not mistaken.

He swears and runs a hand through his already disheveled hair. His expression is anguished. “It’s London. I have to take it.” I nod and he puts the phone to his ear. “Wakefield,” he says briskly.

I sit on the bedspread, but by the short burst of questions on Finn’s end, it’s soon obvious the problem is significant and complex.

I see London, I see France. Liv won’t be shedding her underpants.

“I’m sorry,” he mouths as I slip on my dress and kiss his cheek. It’s some comfort that he looks as miserable as I feel.

I tiptoe down the stairs and am almost out of the house before I turn back to the fridge, for the rest of the Riesling. I can feel the onslaught of a regret hangover already. Might as well commit and make it a physical one, too.

Chapter 13

Liv

The following morning, a headache is the least of my concerns.

In the ballroom, we continue in our indoor groups until noon, working on “harmonizing workflow structures, philosophies, and corporate methodologies,” which sounds like total chi-chi BS, but is actually going to have practical benefits. When we go home, I’ll know my counterparts in Head Office, the personnel to call for certain decisions, and the tools and nomenclature they’ll use.

But Tucker is pale and irritable throughout. He wears a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes, presumably to cover the absent hemi-brow. It’s a violation of the business-casual dress code and earns him a number of glances from Yolanda. When I whisper as much to him, he snaps at me.

Of course, Yolanda notices that, too.

Tucker has obviously cast my actions last night as a betrayal. At the break, rather than deal with his ongoing hostility, I move seats.

There is no sign of Finn, which theoretically should make things easier. But I spend half my time watching the door. I’m nervous about whether Tucker will openly challenge Finn when they next meet, not to mention how Finn and I will navigate last night’s unconsummated, half-naked interlude.

I’ve already decided last night was a mistake that can’t be repeated. I have no idea how Finn will respond, or even if he’ll care.

Then at lunch, just before I go to change for the afternoon’s outdoor activities, I walk into the ladies’ room and find Georgia hunched over a sink. She has both palms on the marble counter and is staring into the mirror with a hopeless expression. Fat, lazy teardrops roll down her cheeks and splash in the basin.

She jerks upright when she sees me and reaches for a hand towel. “Hoo-boy. It’s so hot out there I have to splash off to cool down.”

Eventually I persuade her to tell me what’s wrong.

“I heard rumors about the challenge this afternoon.” Her eyes glisten anew.

“And?”

“If they’re true, I can’t do it. This one’ll be too much for me.”

“There’s been a hack for every other session,” I say. “We’ll find one here, too.”

But a half hour later I want to eat my words.

On the south-facing lawn, we are greeted by two giant cushions. They are of the variety and size typically used on movie sets for films requiring aerial stunts. Above them, from the hotel’s third floor, a knotted rope dangles from each of two open windows.

As the white team gathers, the only good thing about the upcoming challenge is that the Finn-Tucker rivalry appears to be on ice. And after Finn and I exchange an awkward first smile, there’s no time to be self-conscious.

“Are they asking us to do what I think they’re asking us to do?” Roger asks.

We all look to Finn, who shrugs. “Even if I could give advice, I’ve never seen this exercise before.”

“Please tell me we’re not going up there,” Kimberly says.

Even Princess sounds discouraged as she says, “‘If I ascend to heaven, You are there.’ Psalm 139, verse 8.”

“You’re just psyched out because we’re outside,” Tucker says. “Think of it like gym class.”

“Exactly my point,” Kimberly says. “I hated gym.”

Georgia is holding both hands to her mouth and shaking her head non-stop. Over her fingers, her eyes are wide and dismayed. “I can’t do it, everyone,” she says in a muffled voice. “I’m sorry. I’m dog-daggone afraid of heights.”

Princess and I put our arms around her shoulders while Finn gives her forearm a squeeze.

“I’m not so fond of them myself,” Kimberly says, craning her neck upwards. “And I have lousy upper body strength.”

“If we can figure out how to reach the rope, we’ll tie a loop at the bottom and haul you up,” Tad says. He addresses Georgia. “Then all you have to do is hang on.”

“Doesn’t matter. I can’t do it,” Georgia says. “I’m telling you right now that if I have to go up, this gig ain’t goin’ down.”

“Looks like you’re not the only one having trouble.” Roger points to the blue team, which is clumped around a stout man in his mid-forties. He is red-faced and bent at the waist, hyperventilating while the others pat his back.

“That’s Sam from Marketing,” Princess says. “I didn’t know he was afraid of heights. In fact—” She frowns and shakes her head. “I thought he went skydiving a few years back. But I’m probably misremembering.”

“Phobias can hit when you’re older,” Finn says. “I was eighteen.”

“Let’s not panic.” I shoot Finn an appreciative smile and try to project more confidence than I’m feeling. “If we stay loose and creative, we’ll come through this.”

A whistle blast comes as if on cue. The crowd falls silent as we turn to face Yolanda, who stands on a raised platform.

Whereas yesterday she had been dressed as if she were one of us, in shorts and a brightly colored T-shirt, today’s outfit sets a different tone. She wears a navy-colored short-sleeved shirt and white puddle jumpers, each pressed to within an inch of its life. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun and topped by a white captain’s hat. Her eyes are obscured by mirrored sunglasses, the overall effect being vaguely military.

“Good afternoon, people,” she says with a broad smile. “Welcome to the final round of the Wakefield team-building competition. If you are not on the navy-blue or white teams, I’ll ask you to take a seat on the lawn to either side of me. You will not be competing today.”

Georgia groans. “Wish that was me.”

She’s not alone in her sentiment. There are plenty of relieved faces among the people sitting down.

“White and blue teams,” Yolanda says, when order has been reestablished, “congratulations. As the two top-scoring teams, you have won the right to vie for the grand prize. The runner-up team will receive—” she draws out the pause “—a spa certificate worth five hundred dollars. You can redeem that here, before the wrap-up party tomorrow, or back in the States at a spa of your choosing.”

Roger and Tad exchange eye rolls. I have to admit I’m disappointed, too.

“The winning-team’s members will receive…a week-long, all-expense-paid trip for two to…Paris.”

There’s a collective gasp, and Princess, beside me, gives a little scream and quick hop into the air.

Georgia looks like she’s going to faint.

I turn and look at the rope. All along, though I’ve gotten into the spirit of competition, I’ve been treating this contest like a joke. Truthfully, I never thought we’d even get this far.

But I’ve always wanted to go to Paris. Always. And with my budget, this could be my one chance. It is possible we can pull this off?

“Now your marching orders.” Yolanda pulls out her now-infamous recipe card instructions, which I have grown to appreciate as being carefully worded so as to provide creative wiggle room.

“Your goal is to be the first team to get all team members inside the overhead room via the open window. Members may climb the rope themselves, or be pulled up by others on the team, or some combination thereof. I repeat, the winning team is the first team to get all members inside the overhead room via the window.” She drops the hand holding the card to her side. “That’s it. Do you have any questions?”

Into the stunned silence, she gives us our two-minute warning.

The white team turns to look at me, hope in their eyes, but I shake my head. I don’t see any loophole. The one thought I’d had before Yolanda read the instructions was to send someone agile up the rope and into the room, to unlock the room door, if necessary. Meanwhile, the rest of us would dash up the stairs. But with her specificity about the window, Yolanda removed that option.

All of which means, assuming we can conquer the athletic challenges—and that’s a big if—winning will come down to which group is first able to get their nervous teammate to climb.

Talk about pressure for poor Georgia and Sam. Could Yolanda really be that sadistic?

I look at her, strutting back and forth on her platform with her clipboard, and decide, Yes. Yes she could.

Nor can it be an accident that our teams are “balanced” by the number of vulnerable teammates. She is fully expecting us to wrestle with this.

Roger claps his hands and reminds us the clock is ticking. “Okay, strategy… Anyone got anything?”

“Our first problem is reaching the rope,” Tucker says. “We can form a human pyramid, but the mat is going to make footing a challenge. And then what will we do for the last couple of people? There’ll be no one to help them up.”

“Maybe we have to get in the room to figure out the next step,” Princess says tentatively. “Like those tests you do in school. You know the ones where you have to read all the instructions first, and on page three you learn you only have to sign your name to get a perfect score.”

We all look at her in astonishment. I think this is the first practical suggestion she has contributed.

“That’s brilliant,” Kimberly says, just as Yolanda gives the one-minute warning.

“Let’s get someone up there quickly,” Finn says thoughtfully. “Maybe there’s a way to lengthen the rope. Curtains or bed sheets, or something.” Then he realizes he’s spoken, against Yolanda’s explicit instructions, and says, “Oops,” while the rest of us grin at him.

Finn’s eyes meet mine for a second, and there’s a moment when they turn from amused to remembered heat. I look away, feeling my cheeks warm, hoping no one else noticed.

Tucker cuts in, as if Finn’s contribution can’t be allowed to stand more than a second. “I’ll go. Maybe I can rig up a makeshift pulley system.”

“See if you can construct a harness,” Tad says. “Or at the very least a loop at the bottom.”

“Whatever you do, make sure it’s safe,” Kimberly says, with a nervous glance at the mat. “I don’t want to fall.”

Georgia moans just as the starting whistle blows.

Chapter 14

Liv

We haven’t had time to establish who will help Tucker reach the rope, but Finn, Tad and Roger climb onto the mat with him while Kimberly and Princess gather nearby, on the ground. There’s a period where the men jockey to gain their balance, but soon they’re standing like a level pyramid, arms braced around each other’s shoulders as Tucker climbs.

Maybe it’s my angle, but Tucker seems to be putting undue stress on Finn, whose face shows strain. Then I’m certain Tucker’s doing it deliberately, because as he leaps for the rope, it’s Finn’s head that supports Tucker’s sneakered foot.

I could kill Tucker for that.

But for now, Finn can take of himself. Not only is he capable, there is someone whose battle is personal, and occurring on a far grander scale.

“Listen, my mom has super bad anxiety,” I say to Georgia. “When she has to do something unpleasant, she uses these breathing exercises her psychologist taught her. I can explain them to you.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Tucker pulling himself over the window ledge above. Then the rope disappears inside with him. He must have found something useful.

Meanwhile the blue team is on the mat, struggling to catch their balance, never mind reach the rope.

“You gonna cure me in sixty seconds?” Georgia asks.

I shrug. “I can try.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Georgia says with heavy skepticism.

Tucker’s shoulders and head reappear in the window. He feeds out the rope, which now has a loop tied at the very bottom. It’s just big enough to permit entry of a foot or a hand. I can’t see how that will help, considering the loop’s formation has to have made the rope shorter—ergo harder to reach. Then the rope descends, and descends, and actually touches the mat as the men on our team grin and high-five one another. Tucker has lengthened it by tying two knotted bed sheets together.

Now Roger is climbing up, hand over hand, presumably to test the compound rope’s performance. He disappears into the window in no time. Who knew a pencil-pusher would have so much strength?

The blue team is still struggling to get their first person up.

“So…breathing exercises,” I say, turning back to Georgia. “Not exciting, but do you have a better idea?”

“As a matter of fact I do. How about if I just sit myself down right here—” she points at the ground “—and work on not vomiting? That be okay with you?”

“It’s that bad?”“Yes, girl. I’ve been telling you.” Georgia’s voice is climbing in pitch. “What part of I’m terrified don’t you understand?”

“Sorry,” I say. She’s too agitated to hear anything right now, so I turn and watch as Tad inserts one foot into the loop. Overhead, Roger and Tucker start hauling on the bed sheets. As Tad is pulled upward, he keeps his lanky body close to the rope. Meanwhile, he uses his free leg to push off the hotel’s stucco facade, like a reverse form of rappelling. It’s surprisingly effective. Suddenly we have three people up in the room while the blue team continues to work on their first.

Princess comes running over as Kimberly starts up the rope, using the technique Tad just demonstrated. “I’m up next,” she says breathlessly. “Finn wants you closer.”

We all shuffle until we’re as close as we can get without actually being on the mat. Finn raises inquiring eyebrows at me and I compress my mouth and shrug. He nods, and I take a second to appreciate how solid, how helpful he has been throughout this.

“Okay,” I say to Georgia. “Don’t get mad, but I’m trying to figure out if there are edges to your fear.”

“Edges.” Georgia wipes away a tear and folds her arms back over her chest. “This I gotta hear.”

“Limits, I mean. Like, my mom is a hoarder,” I say, hoping my mama would understand me oversharing in this instance. “And she gets panic attacks if anyone but her throws something out. But if she does it herself and has enough time, she can handle it.”

“Right,” Princess says to Georgia. “Are there any situations where you’re able to be up high? Any at all? Like, if you can’t see that you’re up high, do you still freak?”

Georgia’s mouth falls open.

“Like if you’re blindfolded,” I say gently, as the rope is lowered and Finn beckons to Princess. We have five of our eight up now, and the blue team is still working on their second person.

Princess clambers onto the cushion and within seconds is whizzing upward. Our upstairs team has developed a seriously efficient routine.

“With a blindfold, if you can’t see where you are, maybe you won’t be frightened,” I say.

“And you don’t think my dangling foot will be enough information?” Georgia says.

“But when it dangles, you can’t tell if you’re up one inch or one hundred,” I say. At Georgia’s glare, I say hastily, “Okay. Forget about the blindfold. Dumb idea.”

At this point, I have nothing else to offer and we are running out of time. Somehow, the blue team made major strides when I wasn’t looking. They now have three members up to our five, though Sam is obviously struggling as much as Georgia.

“Liv!” I hear. The rope is back now and Finn is signaling that it’s my turn.

“Go,” I tell him. At his anguished expression I say, “Warm body, remember? Go.”

As the rest of the white team calls to him from above, he grabs the rope and begins his ascent. But he’s not a happy man.

“Listen, honey,” Georgia says. She turns to me and grabs my arms at the elbows, gives me a quick shake. “I appreciate everything you’re trying to do for me, but it isn’t going to work. It’s hopeless. I’m hopeless. When that rope comes down, you go. You hear me?”

I bite my lip. I can’t make myself agree.

“You listen to me now.” She tilts her head forward to tell me she’s serious. “If we get seven up there out of eight, we’ll at least get the second-place prize.”

I shake my head. “I’m not leaving you,” I say. “It doesn’t feel right.”

“But I’ll feel worse if you stay. Go,” she says when I continue to hesitate. “I mean it. Shoo.” She flaps her hands like I’m a troublesome cat. “Honey, these contests are about more than a prize. At least show them you tried.”

At that moment, the empty rope lands on the mat, and six members of the white team begin calling my name.

“Go,” Georgia says, holding my gaze with determination, which she then undoes by bursting into tears.

I feel like I’m doing the wrong thing as I climb onto the mat. I’m nauseous and shaky as I insert my foot into the rope and grab the knot.

I’m not crazy about heights myself, so I put all my focus on what my free foot needs to do to ascend. The first and second stories go whizzing by, and all too soon the top of my head is level with the bottom frame of the window. Five beaming faces look out at me. Only Finn looks like he has mixed feelings about this whole enterprise.

I look down at Georgia’s upturned face, and all I can see is her sadness and regret. She is feeling ashamed. This so-called team-building exercise has left her feeling ashamed.

“You know,” I say to Tucker, whose outstretched hand is about to grasp mine, “this is some whacked-out bullshit.”

“It’s okay, Liv,” he says. “You’re almost here. Reach out your hand.”

“You don’t understand,” I say. “I’m not scared. I’m furious. This is total bullshit.”

“What do you mean?” Kimberly says, her smile fading as I fail to move.

“Why don’t you come in the room to discuss it?” Tucker says.

When he and Tad lunge for my hand, I shuffle it one knot lower and glare at them. “Touch me before I’m ready and I let go.”

Tad puts up his hands in a gesture of surrender and backs away, his eyes widened. “Okay, then.”

“Look at her.” I gesture to Georgia on the ground, her acute misery visible from two stories below. “The only reason we’re here is because she worked harder yesterday than all of us put together. And now she can’t do this one task and we’re all going to abandon her? I don’t call that team-building.”

“She’s not your mom,” Tucker says, clearly annoyed. “You’re not required to make her feel wonderful.”

I glare at Tucker. “Screw you and your Cracker Jack box psych diploma.”

Now a chorus of protests erupts from the other white-team members.

“But the instructions were clear. We’re supposed to get into the room.”

“Think of it like serving a client. You might not hit the deadline, but you get as close as you can.”

“And it’s Paris. I’ve wanted to go to Paris my entire life.”

“Me, too.”

Into the medley of angry and imploring voices, I hear Princess insert her calm tones. “Liv has a point. I mean, how do you know this isn’t a test to see if we’ll abandon a team member? If we all go down together and stay with Georgia, I bet we’ll win.”

“I don’t care about the stupid contest,” I say in exasperation. “It’s the right thing to do.”

“Well, that’s great to hear,” Tad says, “because the blue team has figured out their process. Things are about to get real.”

I try to articulate why I’m so troubled. “What if I was older or pregnant? What if one of us was in a wheelchair? What would you do then?”

“So lodge a complaint or start a petition,” Tucker says. “After we win. Just get your crusader butt in here.”

“Finn, say something,” I plead. “I don’t get why you’d let Yolanda create a situation like this. This isn’t like you.”

His eyes are unhappy but he shakes his head. “You know I can’t comment, Liv.”

Another wrong thing about this setup. Our team has been handicapped from the first by a player who’d be brilliant at strategy, but who can’t fully participate.

“This shouldn’t be your decision,” Tad says. “You don’t get to choose for us all.”

“I agree,” Tucker says. “Get in here before your arms give out. We’ll take a vote together.”

As if I’d fall for that. Since the blue team doesn’t appear to be any more successful in getting Sam up the rope than we have been with Georgia, if Yolanda picks a winner, the outcome is going to be decided by what the other seven members do. If I go into the room, we might “win” by being the quickest to abandon our teammate.

The bottom line is, I don’t think I have it in me to do that to Georgia. Not for something she honestly can’t help.

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I really am.”

“So that’s it, then?” Kimberly says. “You’re going to forfeit for all of us?”

Over on the blue team, the sixth person has drawn level with me.

I think back to the biggest regret in my life—the one time I went with the flow because I thought it would be too hard and too lonely to buck the current. I knew then what I was doing was wrong, just like I know that going into that room now would be wrong—maybe not for anyone else, but definitely wrong for me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, knowing what I have to do, knowing it’s going to cost me. “My conscience isn’t a democracy.”

I lean back and release the rope.

Princess follows immediately. She stands, poised within the window frame before jumping, and lands and rolls in one efficient step, coming neatly to her feet on the lawn. When she sits beside me, she pats my knee and squeezes Georgia’s shoulder.

The other white-team members follow in rapid succession. Their expressions range from the carefully neutral, like Finn’s, to the downright hostile, like Tad’s.

It’s close, and the watching audience is agitated and loud as they debate my decision. But simple physics is on our side. Because descent can be accomplished more quickly than ascent, the white team is united on the ground—with Georgia—seconds before the blue team—minus Sam—is united two stories above.

“Well, that was an interesting round,” Yolanda says ten minutes later, when the blue team has taken the stairs to reunite with Sam, and we have all taken seats on the lawn, facing the platform. “We have two teams and two very different choices. Before I declare the winner, let’s get a representative up from each side to explain their thinking process.”

I jump when a firm finger is planted between my shoulder blades in a not particularly gentle fashion.

“Go,” Tucker says. “You made the call, you defend it.”

I look around at my team. Finn would almost certainly be sympathetic, but I heard his cell ring a moment ago. And now he is heading in the direction of his villa with ground-eating strides. Except for Princess, who is of the opinion my strategy will prove to be the winning one, the others won’t look at me. Not even Georgia.

I climb to my feet and walk to the platform, acutely aware of the larger crowd’s silence, too. So much for team spirit, I think. So much for flying under the radar. I’ve really done it this time.

I shiver in the breeze, wishing I had a sweater or pockets in my shorts. I need a place to bury my hands.

“All right,” Yolanda says brightly, and turns to me. “Why don’t you go first, Olivia.”

It seemed so simple up on the rope—in a team-building exercise, don’t leave a teammate behind. But everyone else obviously sees it differently; they believe I abandoned six.

I open my mouth, unsure what I’m going to say, when Yolanda’s cell phone rings. Whatever she sees on the call display has her expression abruptly shifting to one of concern.

“Excuse me,” she says, and steps away to take the call, just as several other phones ring in the crowd.

After a few terse questions, Yolanda pulls the phone from her ear but cradles it against her chest without hanging up. “I’m very sorry, everyone. We have an ongoing incident at a Wakefield worksite. This debriefing is adjourned until tomorrow morning, when we’ll meet first thing in the ballroom.” And she’s off, speaking rapidly into the phone as she moves.

When I descend the stairs, it is to find the white-team members are going out for drinks. They don’t say as much, but it’s clear I haven’t been invited.

Princess remains behind long enough to pat my back and whisper a message. “‘The righteous and upright man is a laughingstock.’Job 12:4.”

I imagine she thinks that’s a comfort.

Chapter 15

Finn

By dinnertime, the refinery fire in Corpus Christi is out. No one was injured, thank goodness. An investigation has been launched to determine the cause and extent of the damage, and to determine if anything Wakefield did as major onsite contractor contributed to the incident.

As there’s nothing more I need to do tonight, my first thought is to go to Liv. She took a brave and unpopular stand this afternoon. I’m not sure she’ll be rewarded for her personal integrity with a trip to Paris—Yolanda makes all those determinations—but I want to make sure she’s okay.

Also, we probably need to have a conversation about last night. Though I have no regrets, I’m not sure she feels the same.

But Darcy has been trying to reach me for hours, and there is that little matter of the past stalking to resolve, so I take the stairs to the villa rooftop and call him.

“Am I buying you a steak dinner?” I ask when he picks up. When Darcy solves a thorny case for Wakefield, our tradition is that I buy him a porterhouse.

“Better hear the full story before you decide.”

I sink onto the rattan love seat. “Okay, shoot.”

“So, I’m in Stonybrook. I drove down right after we hung up yesterday, which is why you haven’t got any photos. There’s too much glare when I try to make a copy with my phone and I haven’t had time to locate a scanner. Can probably rectify that tonight.”

“Okay.” Truthfully, it’s been so busy since we talked, I’d forgotten about my request.

“Took me almost thirteen hours to get here. Boy, whoever was vandalizing your property, they were sure committed. That’s some major premeditation.”

One of the reasons it felt so personal. “You said ‘whoever.’ Does that mean you still don’t know who did it?” I hope not, because I really need this wrapped up.

“I’m getting there, I promise. So I had a two-pronged plan: see if I could establish an alibi for Ms. Prosser on any of those dates, and identify the mystery woman. The logical person to help with both angles was Ada Prosser. Unfortunately, you said I’m on a tight timeline and I couldn’t come up with a believable cover story. I made the executive decision to take her into my confidence. Just to warn ya, Ada knows Ms. Prosser is in Jamaica right now. Think you can expect Ms. Prosser will get a phone call as soon as she lands.”

I close my eyes. I can’t see what else Darcy could have done, but the cat’s out of the bag now. I just hope we have this all resolved before Liv hears about it. “How did Ada take it?”

“Once she got over her shock, she was helpful.”

I straighten. “How so?”

“For starters, she confirmed that Ms. Prosser kept using the backyard shed for her clothing after you left.”

Making it easy for someone with a devious mind to borrow from Liv’s wardrobe.

“Do you remember March twenty-fourth?” Darcy asks. “I’ve taken to calling it The Day of the Lawn Chair.”

“Sure do,” I say dryly. That was the day Liv—or Liv’s impersonator—showed up with a pack of dogs and a pair of yellow kitchen gloves. She had the dogs take a dump on my lawn, then used their shit to finger-paint all my outdoor furniture, plus my patio doors.

“Well, the still from that day is the best one we have of our mystery woman, so I showed it to Ada. Right away, she recognized the dogs. Started telling me their names, their adopted owners. Even what they liked to eat. Course, she could have been fibbing—”

“She isn’t.” Liv got her memory from her mother.

“Okay. Point is, she was willing to claim the dogs, but unwilling to say the woman was her daughter.”

I feel obliged to play devil’s advocate. “That won’t mean much. She’d protect Liv.”

“Sure. But here’s where things got interesting. The photo had a date and time stamp from the CCTV footage.”

“And?”

“Ada noticed it and this look comes over her face. Boy,” he says, his tone shifting subtly, “that’s quite the place she has there, isn’t it?”

“Meaning?” I put an edge in my voice. Ada had her issues, but she worked hard to contain them, and she was there for me at a time when I needed refuge. On top of that, though I doubt Darcy can understand, there were times when the chaos of her place felt more welcoming than the sterility of the Old Man’s home.

Darcy clears his throat. “Meaning, uh, she’s real big on keeping paperwork, which in our case turned out to be a help. Took a couple of hours, and I’m expensing you for my suit and tie, but it was worth it.” His voice is thick with satisfaction. “Got your girl an alibi for the dog-shit attack.”

I stand abruptly. “You what?”

“Ms. Prosser couldn’t be behind the March twenty-fourth incident.”

“How—”

“Both women were at a funeral in Portland. Went by plane, which I guess is a big deal for Ada. But some special aunt of Olivia’s passed.”

I wrack my brain for a name. “Maisey? Maisey Prosser?”

“That’s the one. Saw the obituary leaflet with my own eyes. Plus the receipt for their plane tickets. Also, I talked to a cousin on the phone and confirmed their attendance.”

“Give me a minute,” I say, because I’m hardly hearing him at this point. I sink onto the love seat and set my phone down with shaking hands before doubling over at the waist.

On the day Liv was burying her only aunt—her last living connection to her father, who had died of pneumonia when Liv was a baby—someone was doing everything they could to harden my heart against her. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.

All along I’ve been feeling like I was the victim of the attacks, when the truth is, Liv was the bigger target. It was her reputation being destroyed in my eyes. It was her being deprived of someone who swore to love her and who promised to return. Because without the vandalism, I would have eventually gone to her. I can’t count how many times I had been about to beg her forgiveness when I’d come home to a new disaster and my pride and hurt would flare all over again.

Whoever did this, they are responsible for us being apart. They are fucking responsible.

I stay in that position for a while, until I’m calm, and when I’m sure I’ve got myself in hand, I sit up and I pick up the phone.

“Okay, I’m back,” I say in a frayed voice. “Keep going. I need to hear it all.”

“So…I asked Ada who was taking care of their property while they were gone. She said it was—”

“Tucker Acheson,” I say, because who else could it be?

“Uh-huh. There’s more. The night your headlights were taken out—”

“I remember.” I had gone for a run by the river and returned to find the Beemer surrounded by broken glass. Bert had retrieved CCTV footage from the surgeon who owned the mansion across the road. It had shown Liv’s rust-heap of a car driving past. Then a woman dressed like Liv returning to the scene with a crowbar.

“Ms. Prosser has an alibi for that, too. Guess Ada was in Columbus overnight, getting some kind of governor’s award for her work on the county’s stray dog population. There’s even a picture of her and Ms. Prosser in the local paper.”

“What about Liv’s car?”

“It was supposed to be in the shop all weekend. Ada remembers because they had to borrow a neighbor’s vehicle.” Darcy inhales noisily. “Wanna take a guess about which garage Ms. Prosser used?”

“Gardiner’s,” I say. The auto mechanic shop where Tucker worked during the summer.

“Bingo. So at this point I’m thinking I don’t need to dig any further on the alibi front. I mean, I could, but we have the gist.”

“I agree,” I say.

“And remember the option I raised—the one where I said Ms. Prosser could be using a proxy to attack you?”

“Yup.”

“That’s highly unlikely, since it looks like Ms. Prosser’s vehicle was being taken when her back was turned. So…now I decide to move onto finding the other woman. I ask Ada for a list of females who might have had it in for her daughter, or who might have wanted to keep you two split.” He clears his throat. “Don’t know how to tell you this…”

I close my eyes. “Just say it.”

“Seems Ms. Prosser was always a bit on the reserved side, but after you left, she really pulled into herself.”

“Go on,” I say, when he halts.

“Apparently a lot of people mistook her quietness for snobbery before you arrived. But after… Well, they thought she got even more uppity because she dated you. Thought she got too big for her britches, was how her mom put it. So Ms. Prosser became a bigger target of ridicule. I guess what I’m saying is that there was no shortage of female candidates who wanted to take her down a peg. And if you allow for the possibility of a wig, that makes for a shit-ton of female suspects.”

This is beginning to feel like a mystery with no solution. “Is there any way to narrow it down?”

“Course,” he says cheerfully. “Because we know the mystery woman had to be connected to Tucker. To drive the vehicle, she had to be somewhat local at the time. We know her physical build. From how she moved, we know she was probably fairly young at the time. So…with help from Ada and one of her friends, I constructed a list of candidates and crossed ’em out one by one. And when all was said and done, I was left with one woman.”

“You’re kidding? Who?” I am shocked. I thought Darcy was gearing up to tell me he’d need another couple of weeks to get to the bottom of things.

“Cynthia Fisher. Know her?”

I take a minute, but I’m drawing a total blank. When I say as much to Darcy, he says, “She was a year ahead of Olivia in high school. Also—drum roll please—a known southpaw.”

“How in the world did you find that out?” My respect for Darcy’s investigative skills is growing astronomically.

“That would be why I’ve expensed you for high tea today, and why I’m blaming you if my pinkie won’t return to its normal position. The friend of Ada’s I mentioned? She’s a former high school principal with a thing for Earl Grey and cucumber sandwiches. She knew both girls. Also, she confirmed the photo looked like Ms. Fisher.”

“Did you talk to this…Cynthia?”

“Nope.”

“Well, don’t stop now,” I say. “Do you need travel expenses? Because I’m good for them.” When I go to Liv to explain everything, I want this nailed down.

“Thanks but that’s not going to help.” Darcy clears his throat. “She passed.”

“Damn,” I say. “After all that build-up I’m disappointed.” Crushed, more like.

“Indeed. But I think we can assume she was involved—not to the level of reasonable doubt—but enough to be confident. Remember how the pranks were escalating, then suddenly stopped? And then there’s nothing for years, until this possible rash of events in Jamaica?”

“Where Tucker is staying.”

“Exactly. Well, the last known event in the States happened July fourteenth. A week later, Ms. Fisher was dead from an overdose. And not long after that, Acheson was working as co-op student in Boise, making it awfully hard for him to drop by Jacksonville for a little misdemeanor mischief.”

After that, things go kind of blank for a while.

I think I hung up from Darcy after promising to pay for a side of beef instead of a measly porterhouse.

The rattan love seat from the villa roof somehow ends up bobbing in the ocean. Since I’m the only one who could have tossed it there, I fish it out and call Reginald with an apology and offer to pay for its replacement.

I am seized with a variety of violent and contradictory impulses.

I want to beat up Tucker.

I want to go to Stonybrook and make trouble for everyone who seized upon an excuse to pull Liv down into the mud.

I want to talk to Liv.

Most of all, I know I have to make this right for her. The one person I can count on for rational help in that department, at least professionally, is Yolanda. I take off for her room at a run.

Chapter 16

Finn

My face must be thunderous, because when she answers the door, Yolanda takes one look before turning and leading me inside. She walks to the dresser where a tall, slender man in shirtsleeves is fiddling with cufflinks.

“I’m sorry, baby,” she says, and rises on her toes to give him a peck on the lips. “Looks like you’re eating alone tonight.”

Only then do I notice she’s in full dress regalia, with a smart updo, a long white gown, and high heels that look like they’ve been tied to her feet with spider webs.

DeShawn, a corporate lawyer who does legal work for Wakefield from time to time, is similarly gussied up.

“I didn’t realize you were here,” I say to him.

“Caught the first plane after court let out yesterday,” he says. “Needed a little quality time with my girl.” He quirks his eyebrows meaningfully at me. “Got me some, too.” He hums a few bars of Afternoon Delight and executes a few dance steps as Yolanda laughs.

“That was just a deposit,” she says, and they kiss again. “You want the goods, you gotta stick around.”

I would be nauseated if it wasn’t so nice to see what a solid marriage looks like. Besides, Yolanda works hard for Wakefield. She deserves every bit of happiness she gets.

“I’m sorry to take her away from you, man,” I say. “You guys don’t get much time together.”

“Make up for it in her compensation package,” he says with a wink. He slaps me on the shoulder on his way to the door. “If you’re done early, come find me. I’ll be enjoying the seafood.”

Yolanda watches him leave with a smile on her lips. I’ve often wondered what our employees would think if they could glimpse her like this. Her soft expression makes her almost unrecognizable from the woman who leads the retreats.

When the door closes behind DeShawn, she turns her attention to me and the dreaminess fades from her eyes. “This is going to take a few minutes, yes?”

I nod.

“Then plant your butt in that chair and talk loud. I’m going to change.” She grabs a few items of clothing and slips behind the opaque curtain, which is all that separates the washroom area from the bedroom.

While she changes, I tell her everything that seems relevant, beginning with how I met Liv, to our separation when my dad got sick. I tell her about the odd streak of bad luck in Jamaica, to my engagement of Darcy, to this evening’s revelations.

I’m finishing as she emerges from the bathroom. She’s now wearing a pinstripe skirt suit and has swapped her heels for more businesslike shoes. Even her makeup is subdued. She looks like she’s prepared for a board meeting.

“Something wrong?” she asks as she sinks into the armchair opposite.

“I thought you were changing into athletic wear.” Her uniform of choice when she isn’t at work.

“Say what?” She gives me a major dose of stink-eye. “Since when do I dress down for a meeting with an employee?”

So she’s going to talk to Liv tonight. I feel an instant rush of relief and take my first deep breath since Darcy’s call.

I decide to cut to the chase. “I want him out.”

She stretches out her legs and crosses them at the ankle while admiring her shoes. “For what? A decade-old scheme that he may or may not have been involved in?”

“Oh, he was involved in it, all right.”

Her eyes shift back to me. “Got any proof I’m not aware of? I could make the case that this Cynthia was the real culprit, and you’re tarring Tucker with the same brush you used on poor Olivia. Besides—” she shakes her head “—that’s not how you run the company. It’s unfair to Tucker and beneath you. You can’t violate your standards and expect Olivia to respect you.”

This is exactly why I came to Yolanda for help. But I hate that she’s right. “He’s a snake.”

“I don’t disagree. A coiled cobra in a basket. But she’s not a stupid woman. Why is she playing the flute for him?”

The very question I have asked myself a thousand times.

I sink down and bury my head in my hands. “I love her, Yolanda.”

“I know.”

“I loved her from the first time I saw her.” And the next. She’d come strolling up the driveway and all I’d done was help her mom with the dogs, but the way she looked at me? I felt like the most powerful man alive. “You know, she didn’t want to take a chance on me but I worked on her until she took a leap of faith. And at the first real test of how we’d handle it all, I was the one who caved. Me. With the education and the fancy home and all the money.”

“And the abusive, dead father, and the grasping stepmother, and the struggling company you inherited at twenty-three…”

“Twenty-four,” I say.

One eyebrow goes up. “Oh, so much better.”

I shake my head at her. “I knew you’d say that, but you’re letting me off too easy.”

“Am I?”

“The worst of it is, I yelled at her and called her crazy because I felt embarrassed in front of my friend.”

“I know,” she says.

“I don’t know if Liv can ever forgive me. I promised to love her forever, but she suffered extra because of me. I need to make it right.”

“Which is exactly why you’re going to back off and let me handle this. The professional part of this, anyway.”

“That feels like a cop-out,” I say.

She leans forward and stabs the table with a manicured nail. “You go in there, we’ll end up with a couple of lawsuits and you’ll lose her.” She holds my gaze. “I mean it, Finn. If there’s ever a time to honor our agreement, this is it. You handle the money—”

“And you handle the people. I know.” I heave a sigh. “Just…please tell me you have something on him. A way to get her away from him.”

“I’ve done my homework. I haven’t liked their dynamic from the first.” She sinks back in her chair and watches, hands folded calmly in her lap, while I wear a groove in the tiled floor.

When I’m finally ready to capitulate, I say, “All right. But before you go, there’s one more piece of information you need.”

“Which is…?”

“I need your laptop,” I say.

She pulls her computer from the room safe and keys in the password. Then she swivels it to me, watching as I log onto the Wakefield site. “If this is about their personnel files, I’ve already been through them with a fine-toothed comb. And then some. Especially for Olivia.”

While she details her preparation, which is designed to reassure me that she knows what she’s doing, I find the document I’m seeking. I click and highlight the relevant parts.

“I know you saw this before,” I say, “but you probably didn’t appreciate the significance.” I hadn’t, though I should have.

Yolanda adjusts the angle of the screen and puts one palm on the table. After a few moments of scrolling, she makes a humming sound, which in Yolanda terms is equivalent to a Tarzan yell. “Nice work, Sherlock. I missed that, but it explains so much.” She straightens and fixes me with a gimlet gaze. “Now, while I try to rescue your girlfriend from a mess of her own making, go for a run or something. You’re making me nervous with all that damn flop sweat.”

Chapter 17

Liv

Near dinnertime, when Yolanda knocks on my hotel door, I consider not answering. I can see through the peephole that she is carrying a laptop and dressed like she’s heading to a power lunch. Hasn’t Wakefield consumed enough of my day?

Plus, she’s not my favorite person at the moment, and I’m in a foul mood, feeling raw, exposed and lonely after this afternoon’s events.

But she doesn’t leave after a decent interval and through the peephole, I see her waylay one of the staff. By her gestures, she’s grilling them about my present location. How long before she concocts a pretext to have them check my room?

“Good evening, Olivia,” she says when I crack the door. “Do you have a few minutes to talk?”

“I’m not feeling chatty right now,” I say, as the staff person fades away.

Yolanda nods. “You’re upset about this afternoon. Normally we’d have gotten to your concerns in debriefing, but the work emergency interfered. I’m deeply sorry for that. I don’t like leaving people to twist in the wind.”

She seems sincere. There’s none of her brashness or larger-than-life COO personality on display tonight. Am I getting the psychologist persona, then?

As if that’s likely to be better.

When I don’t move, she adds, “If you’d prefer a professional setting, I can get the resort to loan me an office.” Her eyes skim over my tank top and pajama bottoms. “Or you could change. We could move to a restaurant and hope for privacy.”

I heave a sigh. “Let’s get this over with.” It’s clear she isn’t going to leave until we talk, and as I had been about to order room service, anything that could get me in trouble has already been tidied away.

She follows me into the room, past the washroom and bed, into the alcove. She notices the extra table I had brought in—a twin of the room’s standard-issue table. When pushed together as they are now, both tables form a sufficiently large surface for me to spread out my drawings. She also notices the pile of colored markers I use in my work, and the giant pile of eraser shavings.

Let her notice, I decide. If she asks, I’ll just say I’m an amateur artist who values her privacy.

When we’re each seated in a chair and she has declined the offer of a drink, she folds her hands in her lap.

“Okay,” she says calmly. “Hit me with your concerns.”

So I recap everything I said to my team up on the rope, and then some. I conclude with my concerns about Georgia. “Bottom line, you set her up to feel humiliated and isolated.”

Throughout my recitation she has listened without interrupting, her face shifting only to demonstrate her careful attendance. Now she nods once. Twice. Then as calmly as if she’s asking me to pass the salt, she says, “Georgia was a plant.”

After a pause, I manage, “Pardon?”

“You heard me correctly. I assure you, her psyche is completely intact. In fact, though she might not look like it now, at one time Georgia was a topnotch climber. I’m told she could rappel and spelunk with the best of them.”

I’m still reeling. “Sam?” I manage.

“He doesn’t have her skills, but he’s not afraid of heights, either.”

“Then w—”

“Why have them pretend?” Yolanda shrugs. “Come to the debriefing tomorrow, where I’ll explain the official reason. But unofficially, I like to have a good understanding of how employees will react under stress. I want to know their vulnerabilities. Ah,” she says, noting my growing stiffness. “I see you don’t like that answer, either.”

I say nothing, chewing my lip.

“Come on, now. Don’t stop when you’ve caught a good tailwind. Be honest about why that bothers you so much.”

She wants honesty? Then she’ll get it. “Because you’re weaponizing psychology. You’re using your position to coerce people into running down a maze, then seeing which cheese they prefer.”

“Hmmm.” She permits herself a small smile. “It’s obvious you and Finn have a shared history. He’s been known to use the lab rat analogy himself, though he hasn’t come up with the cheese line.” Her smile broadens to a mischievous grin. “Yet.”

The smile vanishes and she recrosses her legs. “But obviously I don’t agree. You see, ultimately I take what I learn and use it for protective purposes. For instance, there are times when Wakefield has an opportunity to accomplish something extraordinary. Something that will really benefit the company if we pursue it and pull it off.” Her fingers begin to play with the edge of the laptop she had deposited on the table. “When I understand how an employee functions, especially within a team, I can decline the opportunity if it’s going to be too much—just take it right off the table. Or I can tailor my request to accommodate what they can manage. Or get them into counseling if they cope in a less than healthful manner.” She pauses. “Drink too much, for example.”

My heart begins to pound. That was a veiled comment about Tucker, I know it.

“Why are you here?” I ask. “You didn’t come to talk about ethics and philosophy.”

Her eyebrows rise. “No. You’re quite right. I’ve come to offer you a job.”

I inhale as a sharp jolt runs through my body. “I have a job,” I say carefully.

“No, you have a position. One which, I’m sure you’re aware, because you’re a bright woman, doesn’t really fit within the department.”

“But it suits my unique psychology,” I say. “My predisposing weaknesses.”

She laughs with genuine delight. “Touché. I can definitely see why you’d think that would be the case, and why my predecessor fell for it. Let me tell you why I disagree.”

She leans forward and pins me with her gaze. “I see before me a woman with great promise. I know you came from a place of economic hardship. That you made it through college on academic scholarships. You graduated with good marks, had a killer reference, and wowed them in the interview.”

While my stomach plunges I work very hard to keep my expression from flickering. “But…” I prompt, because I can see where this is headed, and it can’t be anywhere good.

“But for some reason that early promise has never quite manifested.”

I close my eyes briefly. “Ouch.”

When I open them again, Yolanda is still looking at me with a cool, dispassionate gaze. “My theory going into this week was that you were bored.”

I’m torn between feeling flattered and frightened. “And now?”

“Now, having seen what you’re capable of, I’m convinced you’re being held back in your position.” She smiles. “Which is why I’d like to offer you the chance to go back to school part-time. It would be on Wakefield’s tab, of course. And you would pick the program of study, though from what I’ve seen, you’d do well as a full-fledged engineer.”

I delay my response by going to the mini-fridge for a drink. I really want a beer or a vodka straight from the tiny bottle, but I select a soda after offering one to Yolanda. She shakes her head.

When I’m seated again and have taken a sip of the cola I don’t want, I say, “I’m stunned and flattered, believe me—”

“But you’re going to decline.”

I set the soda down carefully. “I have to.”

“Why?” she says flatly.

Because my credentials won’t hold up to scrutiny. I retreat to the explanation that has always worked in the past. “Because of my mother.”

“You mean her hoarding.”

I exhale. “This is really like a psychological cavity search. You’ve been talking to Finn.”

She inclines her head. “I have. In fact, you should know that I’m here with his permission. He knows this is a big decision for you and he doesn’t want to unduly influence your choice.” Her face softens. “He’s still in love with you, Olivia.” She pauses, presumably to let me digest this, while a rush of emotion forces me to swallow repeatedly. “But that’s between the two of you,” she says gently. “Let’s get back to your mom and the reasons you feel you can’t accept what amounts to a promotion.”

I lean back in my chair. “For one thing, she still depends on me. I’m out there every couple of weekends. If I don’t go, there’s a good likelihood she’ll relapse and lose her home.”

“A worthy goal. But this isn’t exactly news, is it? Where’s the woman who juggled her mom, part-time work, and college, all while getting great marks?”

“Not in front of you, that’s for darn sure,” I say bluntly. “She got burned to a crisp pushing up against those limits you’re so fond of talking about.”

“Fair enough. What if I said we would figure it out?”

I shake my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Wakefield maintains good relationships with a number of colleges. You decide the course load you can manage on top of your mother, we find the institution to accommodate you, and we adjust your workload accordingly.”

“I can’t afford to make less money.”

“We’ll figure out the financial aspect, too. A mutually agreeable arrangement.”

It’s impossible, of course, but I can’t resist asking the question. “You’d really do that for me?”

“Yes.”

“Because Finn cares for me?”

Yolanda pulls her mouth to the side. “What do you think, Olivia?”

I think this woman has never let anyone push her into anything she doesn’t want to do, which is both inspiring and terrifying.

“Let me articulate this clearly,” she says, “so you understand my position. It’s to Wakefield’s benefit to have happy, confident employees who are engaged at the highest possible level of work.”

She’s killing me. To offer me everything I long for from a work perspective, plus the chance to have ongoing contact with Finn, plus the news that he loves me? It’s unbearable—it’s unbearable that I’ve forfeited the right to accept. But this is what happens when you make Faustian bargains. You can never anticipate where the ripples of damage will spread, or when they’ll arise and threaten your happiness.

“You can’t know how much I appreciate it,” I say. “Basically I love everything you just said. But I’ll have to decline.”

An expression of defeat crosses her face and she looks away briefly. “Even if it means I have no place in the company for you?”

I shrug. “Even then. I’ll have my resignation letter to you in an hour.”

She holds my gaze for an uncomfortably long time. “You can’t protect him by quitting, you know.”

“Who?”

“Please. Even my predecessor had figured it out, though as long as your arrangement was semi-functional, he wasn’t the type to rock the catamaran.” She takes a deep breath, like she’s girding for something. “I know Tucker drags you to meetings and can’t provide the right technical details without you there to back him up. Then there’s this.” Yolanda powers up her laptop, clicks a few keys, and turns it to face me.

I’m looking at the incident report on the cat reversal that I had prepared for Tucker, and that he signed almost without reviewing. Within the text, the word “ergo” is highlighted seven times.

“Is it any wonder you look like you’re not performing, Liv?” she says. “You’re handling two full-time jobs at once.”

“So my vocabulary has rubbed off on him,” I say, pushing the computer away. “Big deal.”

“And you don’t care that he’s out there, partying in the lounge, while you’re in here doing his work?”

This is one scary woman. I may not agree with everything she does, but I can see why Finn relies on her. She’s driven, and smart, and freakishly observant. She has worked so hard to get me to Yes, I actually feel like I owe her an explanation. How does she do that?

“You have to understand,” I eventually say in a voice I’m working to keep level. “Besides Finn, Tucker was the only person who ever stuck around when they saw where I lived. And there were a lot of nights he was the difference between me eating Hamburger Helper or going hungry.” Or eating dog food, though I won’t tell her that. I won’t tell her that when it came to a choice of feeding people or animals, my mama often picked wrong. “And I haven’t even gotten into how he protected me from predatory men.” The gropers he kept at bay with a few well-placed threats, and so on.

Her eyes have grown understanding. “Honey, I might not look like it now, but I grew up LA ’hood poor. I understand the survivor mindset. But did you not learn anything from the exercises this week? Loyalty is fantastic, but blind loyalty will get your ass fried.”

I shrug.

“What are the chances he’ll manage without you?” she says.

Not great, in my opinion, but that’ll be up to Tucker. Because if there’s one thing I do believe after this conversation, it’s that Yolanda will give him a fair shake, even if that means protecting him against Finn.

That comes as a huge relief.

What is also a relief, and bizarrely amusing—and I can’t believe I can find anything to laugh at tonight—is Yolanda’s face when I offer to clear out my onsite desk, so to speak. I pull out my giant spare suitcase and wheel it to her. It is filled to the brim with Wakefield paperwork and the borrowed laptop. Apparently she had the concept right, but drastically underestimated the quantity of work I brought with me.

“What a waste that you’re quitting,” she says, shaking her head at me as she zips the suitcase back up. “What a criminal waste of potential.” Her shoulders slump. “At least promise me you’ll come to the debriefing tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I’m coming,” I say. “I want to hear the official explanation for this afternoon. And I’m hanging around for the closing festivities. I figure I’ve earned that much.”

“Fair enough,” she says.

“I need a promise of my own. Keep tonight between the two of us.” I’ll have to figure out the time and place to break the news to Tucker, and I don’t want to deal with the inevitable questions from my coworkers.

She cocks her head. “Finn needs to know.”

“That’s why I’m going to see him.” I look down at my pajama bottoms. “Right after I change. But Tucker, the other coworkers? I tell them in my own time.”

She shakes her head, shakes it some more. “Yes to the coworkers. But goddammit, you’re going to break Finn’s heart.”

“He’ll be fine.”

“Goes to show how much you know about men. They might be lousy at expressing it, but the good ones are every bit as invested as we women.” Somehow I end up in her arms, held fast in a hug. “Remember that, Liv,” she whispers. “I don’t know what’s holding you back, but he wants to do right by you. Give him a chance.” Then she lets me go.

I hold the door as she wheels out the suitcase, effectively ending one era of my life.

I’m not sure what to think of her anymore. She’s imperious and over-confident and demanding, and I seriously question her ethics. But she is also kind, and loyal and fair-minded. In the end, I think I would have liked working for such a fearsome woman.

Now to go appease a fearsome man.

Chapter 18

Finn

“No joy,” Yolanda says when I snatch the phone up from the table in the villa’s kitchen. “She resigned rather than take another arrangement. I’m sorry,” she says after a pause. “I did try.”

“I know you did.” Yolanda isn’t capable of giving less than a hundred percent, and her voice is weary. She thinks she failed me. “Any idea why?”

“Well, after the way I presented it, we know she doesn’t see this as a choice between Tucker and you—though FYI, she is immediately defensive when I bring up his name. Pounding on him won’t help your cause.”

“Might help me.”

She laughs. “That’s an entirely different matter.”

I hesitate before asking the next question, because despite her effectiveness—or because of it—I try to keep a boundary between the work Yolanda does for the company and my personal life. I don’t want to put myself on Yolanda’s couch—or Liv, for that matter. But at this point, it’s not like I have a lot to lose. “So if it’s not Tucker, what is it then?”

“Not the job, either. She definitely wanted that. Definitely.” Yolanda sighs. “No…if I had to guess, it’s something bound up in a sense of honor. When she was packing her work stuff up, she used the word ‘fraud.’ I can’t remember the context, but it just struck me as strange at the time. Does that make any sense to you?”

“God, no.” I wash my face with my hand. I have no idea what to do with that information. Do I need to be worrying about things like embezzlement now? With Tucker on the scene, maybe, but at the moment my mind doesn’t even want to go down that route.

“So how do I get her back, Y?”

“How’d you win her the first time?”

“Patience. Lots and lots of patience while I deliberately kept things light.” And I’d cared for Ada, despite her obvious oddities, and just been generally supportive.

“Then I’d go that route again. Stick with what works.”

It’s sound advice except for the obvious problem of logistics. It’s one thing to court Liv while living in the same residence day in and day out. But in roughly twenty-four hours, the retreat will be over and Liv will be winging her way back to Columbus, while I’m expected in Milwaukee. And if she goes home to Stonybrook, to her mom, my access to her will be even more restricted.

How can I compress a slow courtship into less than one day?

At this point, I’m drawing a blank.

Chapter 19

Liv

On the way to see Finn, I keep waiting for the panic to strike. I’m without a job, with a mother whose fragile mental health depends upon access to her therapist and expensive medication. If I am to continue helping her, my meager savings won’t last long.

Logic says my top priority must be finding employment in the engineering sector. And with Tucker’s job on the ropes and him being my only supervisor for years, I need to do it urgently, before I lose my one shot at a positive reference.

But I’m not sure I’m going to go the tech route.

While I’ve spent the better part of a decade doing whatever I could to avoid this moment, now that it’s here, I feel strangely…light. Unburdened. Either I’m in a benumbed state of denial or this is what it feels like to be free of guilt.

Imagine that, Liv, I think. Imagine a life where you wake up in the morning and know that your every professional move, every work consideration, won’t be about atoning for the past.

I pause on the path and close my eyes, trying to absorb the immensity of the mental shift that such a change would require. But it’s too big. Like looking at a wrinkly baby and trying to envision the woman she’ll become: politician, hostage negotiator, grocer, rap queen.

Speaking of unfathomable mysteries, how am I to explain my decision to Finn?

When I round the corner, he is waiting for me at the gate. There’s something about his posture which is both resigned and sad. Yolanda called him, then. Or maybe he just understands my heart without the reason for my choices.

I’m expecting a grilling, but the first words out of his mouth seem designed to reassure.

“I hear I’m not your boss anymore.”

“That’s how it looks,” I say, trying to match his even tone. And that’s easier, too, now that there are no Wakefield policies to prevent me from consorting with the boss.

“You want to talk about it?” He latches the gate behind me.

“No!”

He searches my face and nods as if he’s expected this answer, then shocks me by grinning a real grin. “Now I know what I look like when I’ve been through the Yolanda Grinder.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“Oh, yeah.” He reaches out and cups my cheek. His eyes are so tender and understanding I want to cry. “What do you need from me, Liv? Food? Drink?”

You. “Yes and yes,” I say. I’m suddenly starving. I had been about to order room service before Yolanda came, and then after that, my feet only wanted to bring me here.

“Finally a problem that can be easily solved.” He holds my hand until we reach the patio, then he presses me down into a chair. “What can I get you?”

“Surprise me.”

He nods. “Done.”

“Hey.” I catch his hand as he goes behind me and I squint up at him. “This is too easy. What are you up to?”

He leans down and brushes a soft kiss over my lips. “Anything you want.”

How about nine inches and the chance to finish what we started last night?

He throws back his head in a laugh. “Whatever you’re thinking, keep it up. I like the glint in your eyes.”

I sit for a moment, watching as he enters the kitchen and takes two glasses down from the cupboard. When he dips into the fridge, I find myself wandering down to the shoreline.

It’s wrong, isn’t it, that I’ve been in Jamaica nearly a week and haven’t been in the ocean once, except to wet a sponge as part of Yolanda’s contest? But there are twenty-four hours before my flight back home and I have no instrument loops to mark up, no emails to go through, no safety reports to write. I can do almost anything I want.

Maybe I’ll begin with a swim…

I return to the patio and begin issuing a silent invitation to Finn. One shoe goes at the end of the pavement, the next halfway across the lawn, and ha! Aren’t I clever tonight? Both shoes are actually from the same pair.

I discard my pretty buttercup-yellow sundress where the grass meets the sand. Near the edge of the lapping water, I leave two tiny scraps of lace.

The water is like velvet, and I have enough time to dive under and slick my hair back before Finn emerges from the house. He carries two glasses filled with pink liquid, which he practically dumps on the patio table when he spots the clothing trail.

“There’s a siren in my lagoon,” he says as he arrives on the beach. He sounds breathless. His eyes catalog my bare shoulders before spotting the lace at his feet. “A siren without any underwear.”

“Do you mind?”

“Are you insane, woman?” He is already out of his shoes and starting on his belt. “But I warn you. Unless you’ve developed an exhibitionist streak, we have to be out of the water in just over an hour.” His shirt goes flying and his pants and briefs are down in one efficient move. “The hotel’s sending a chef to cook us a special dinner. Jerk chicken.”

“Mmmm,” I say, and I’m not referring to the food, though it sounds delicious. His legs are as thickly muscled as the rest of him. He is all man, and absolutely beautiful. And for tonight, he is mine. “But what makes you think we’ll be doing anything risqué.?”

He wades into the water toward me, preceded by the beginnings of an impressive erection. “History. Ancient and very recent.”

“Well, maybe I’m not in that kind of mood.” I tilt my head and back away from him, parallel to the shore so I don’t drown. “Maybe I’d rather play regular water games tonight.”

He shifts direction to follow me as his eyes grow hotter and darker. “Like what?”

“How about Marco Polo?”

“I’ve got a pole-o you can grab-o.”

My laugh converts to a squeal as he dives abruptly. And then we’re playing in earnest, in the kind of urgent foreplay that in the past always lead to torrid sex. He grabs my ankle here, and I tickle him there, and we chase one another around in the water, moving in ever-tighter circles as the sun dips below the horizon. And we’re laughing harder as Finn’s eyes grow darker until suddenly, unmistakably, something in the water brushes up against my leg. It startles me enough that I let out a squeak and dart backward.

“What’s wrong?” Finn, quick to drop the playmate role for that of protector, comes up close behind me as I peer down into the water. It’s too dark to see anything, including my feet.

“Something touched me.”

“Probably a piece of seaweed.”

“That wasn’t a weed,” I say, though I hope it was. “It was long and smooth and cold. Maybe an eel.” Finn is close enough that I can feel a hint of warmth against my back. And when I let my hand drift downward, it closes over the long smooth length of him. “Now that’s not cold,” I say.

“Because that’s not an eel.” He pulls me back against him, his hands firm and warm on my waist. One descends to brush between my legs, to where I’m already aching for him.

I gasp. “And that’s not a clam.”

Finn is laughing as he turns me to face him. “God I love you, Liv. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I love you, too.” Our lips and tongues meet in a tangle of salt.

I’m not fooling myself. Finn plays the long game. At some point he’s going to press me for an explanation about why I refused Wakefield’s generous offer. I wouldn’t even be surprised if he wants me to move in with him while I figure out my next steps. But I’m entitled to a few hours of carefree fun. I need this. I deserve this. Maybe Finn needs it, too.

Then he’s tugging me out of the water, and I spare a thought for the staff who are going to come across our clothing and the sand we are tracking into the house.

We leave the lights off and make it as far as the darkened kitchen before Finn pulls me to him for a hot, liquid kiss. Then up the stairs, trying not to slip on the hardwood as he cups my breasts and makes me gasp.

I think Finn meant to take me to the shower—maybe even take me in the shower—I know that’s where I was headed—but once we’re across the threshold of the bedroom, we don’t get that far. He leans against the closed bedroom door and pulls me to him, kissing me until I forget to breathe.

It’s heaven to be held tightly like this, my breasts pressed against his chest. Heaven to be able to nip his earlobe, his shoulder. Then to hear his gasp when I take the firm nub of his nipple into my mouth.

I let my tongue follow his happy trail down his belly and I drop to my knees.

“Uh, n-no, Liv,” he says, when I take him into my mouth. “I’m not going to last if you d-do that.” But I notice he doesn’t move, both vocal cords and muscles seemingly paralyzed when I cup him with my hand.

Can there be a more powerful feeling in the world than this? Finn’s fingers are splayed on the wood of the door. His eyes glitter down at me from within a handsome face flushed with desire.

For years I would awaken, hot and aroused, from dreams in which he looked at me like this. Said my name hoarsely, just as he did now. He tastes like I remember, too. Of Finn, and musk, and the promise of forever.

Then I am on my back on the carpet, with Finn braced on his arms over me. His smile is full of sin. “Your turn, my Liv.”

And god, he’s so good at this, laving my nipples until they are hard and aching. He cups my breasts with both hands as he kisses his way down my body. His shoulders push my legs apart and he gives me a mischievous smile as he drapes my knees over his shoulders, opening me to him. His hair brushes my leg as he starts at my left knee and nibbles his way up my inner thigh. He dips for a quick taste that has me moaning. Then begins the same process on the right. By the time he fastens his warm mouth on my core, I am shaking and ready to beg.

And the desire swirling in me begins to take shape, until everything within me focuses on his clever tongue, on the finger which is filling my emptiness, until an orgasm slams into me, pulling me into fragments. It begins low in my abdomen and migrates outward, like a wave pulling at my skin, until it envelops my toes, even causes a warm tingling around my mouth.

I lie there panting, boneless, dimly aware of Finn setting my feet down on the floor. Just as I’m expecting the welcome weight of him to cover me, there’s a sudden coolness on my front, and a few seconds later, from somewhere to my left comes a banging, and a, “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

I manage to prop myself up on my elbows. “What’s the matter?” I don’t recognize my voice. Maybe I shredded it when I screamed?

Finn is over at the bedside table, his hands gripping his hair.

“Condoms,” he says, dropping his hands and visibly reining in his frustration. “I had them in my pocket.”

Down at the beach, then, at the edge of the sand.

He forces a smile as he reaches for the bedspread and jerks it off the bed. He wraps it around his hips before pointing a finger at me. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”

“No,” I say, shaking my head.

“No?” He looks like he’s been poleaxed.

“No. Come here. I’m safe. I’m on the pill and I haven’t been with anyone since I’ve been checked.” Which has been years, though I’m not about to mention that right now.

“Me, too,” he says. “I mean, I’m safe.” And because it’s Finn, and I can trust him implicitly in this, I nod and pull him down to me. And then he’s finally where he belongs, his hips between mine, his lips fused to mine. His tongue a slick warmth in my mouth. And then his hand comes between us and he guides himself to my center, and he enters me in a thrust that has us both groaning.

“So good, Liv,” he says.

I wrap my legs around his waist, allowing him to get deeper with the next thrust. He hits something wonderful, making me arch. Hits it again. His back grows slick with sweat and I move my hands lower, feeling his muscles flex as he pumps into me, and another orgasm draws near. And then I’m falling, crying out as I splinter again, and he crushes me to him, his hips moving frantically until he’s groaning into my mouth with one final thrust.

After a long time, when our skin has cooled and I can smell something delicious wafting up the stairs, Finn lifts his head and kisses me softly on the mouth.

“Thank you.” One corner of his mouth crooks upward. “I mean, thank you for everything, but especially for saving me there at the end with the condoms. I thought I was going to die.”

I laugh and turn my head to nip his arm. “You’re welcome. Now show me your gratitude by taking me to the shower and feeding me.”

He climbs to his feet and helps me up, flicking a light switch at the door. In the dim light that comes on near the headboard, I can see the discarded bedspread, the sand from our feet, and the large wet spot where we were just entangled.

Finn catches me smiling. “What are you thinking?”

“About sexual anthropology.”

I have to laugh as his brows climb. “Don’t you wonder if the hotel staff get good at sex scene reconstruction?” I point to the wet spot by the door, which is shaped like a subtle figure eight. “Here’s where she gave him oral, there’s where he returned the favor.”

“You have a strange brain, Prosser,” he says, then drops a kiss on my forehead before pulling me to him for another embrace. “A strange brain that I happen to love.”

Though I know it’s only a matter of time until it causes us trouble, I love his brain, too, plus the body that houses it. The truth is I never stopped. At this point, I doubt I ever can.

Chapter 20

Liv

After an amazing dinner, we share a bath in the tub and then we make love again, this time on the king-sized bed with its thread count of roughly two thousand. When we are done, Finn lies on his back and his shoulder pillows my head as I rest one hand on his chest, my fingers idly stroking the crisp hair. Without any warning, my eyes begin to leak tears.

I try to be discreet, but Finn notices right away, of course. How can he not?

“What’s this?” he says as he brushes the moisture from my face. “Did I hurt you?”

“Not at all. I—” It’s hard to explain how I’m feeling, it’s such a tangle of emotions. Pleasure, exhaustion, nostalgia, joy. The best I can manage is, “We finally made it to a bed. A real bed.”

He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “So move in with me,” he says casually—too casually. “I have a California king. We can have bed-sex any time you want.”

By way of answering, I press a kiss to his shoulder and then his lips. I roll over and slip out from under the covers. “I need a drink. Want one?”

He shakes his head.

In the bathroom, I blow my nose and avoid looking at myself in the mirror. I know what I’ll see: a well-loved woman with whisker-burn on her neck and cheeks, a swollen, bee-stung mouth, and love bites everywhere. But my eyes will also telegraph my dread. I don’t want to have this conversation—not ever, and especially not tonight—but I guess it is inevitable.

I grab a bottled water and drain it, bring another back into the bedroom. When I offer it to Finn, he shakes his head, so I leave it on the side table.

He has plumped the pillows against the headboard. When he lifts the covers and I slide in beside him, we both remain sitting in a subtle acknowledgment that playtime is over.

“Tell me,” he says. He’s trying so hard to remain optimistic, it pinches something in my chest.

I take his hand and play with his fingers. “Before you told me about your fight with your dad, and where you lived and your background and everything, know what I used to think?”

He shakes his head.

“I had a bunch of stories in my head.” A snort escapes from me. “Some of them are pretty laughable.”

“Like what?”

“Well, this one isn’t funny.” From what Finn told me, it’s actually too close to the truth. “I told myself you were running away from an abusive foster home. But as for the funny ones, I pictured you as a runaway heir to a crime syndicate family. Or an escaped convict.”

He sits up and looks indignant, pulling his hand from mine.

“Don’t worry,” I say. “Your crimes were strictly white-collar.”

“Oh, that’s vastly reassuring.”

I can’t help but laugh. He’s miffed because I don’t think he has the heart to be a major prick. “But because I didn’t know who you were, do you remember what I used to say to you to keep you at arm’s length?”

“How could I forget.” He rolls his eyes. “‘A man without a past has no future with me.’ Or my personal favorite: ‘A man without a last name doesn’t deserve to get to first base.’ Course, I got you to forget them in no time flat…” He waggles his eyebrows before angling his body toward me. He dips his head to nuzzle my breast and takes my nipple into his mouth. “But what does this have to do with anything?” he asks a moment later, when I’ve almost forgotten what we were talking about.

“Because now…” I take a deep breath. “Now I’m the woman with no last name.”

He shakes his head. “You lost me.”

“You know how my mom’s hoarding always gets worse when she’s feeling ashamed?”

He nods.

“After we broke up, and I knew I blew it forever with you, that’s how I felt. Ashamed. I got really low, Finn.” I have to clear my throat. “I doubled down and did something I’m not proud of.”

“Okay,” he says cautiously. “Everyone makes mistakes.”

I purse my mouth. “Not like this.”

“So tell me what you did. Just…blurt it out.” He rolls to straddle me. He does a quick pantomime of the old-fashioned rescue breathing by seizing my wrists and moving my arms. “Out with the bad air, in with the good.”

“I…can’t.” I shake my head. “I just can’t.”

He releases me and sits back on his haunches. “Why?”

“You see? This is one reason I didn’t want to discuss it. You’re going to keep coming at me with questions and solutions until I want to scr—”

“Why, Liv?”

I sigh. “Because, for one thing I’m not the only one caught up in it.”

He squeezes his eyes closed while his hands curl into fists. “Fucking Tucker. I knew it—”

When I put a finger to his lips, his eyes pop open. “Shhh. I won’t deny he’s tangentially involved, but only tangentially. And I won’t talk about this with you if we’re going to fight about him, okay? Just take that topic right off the table.” I stare him down until I think he’s heard this point, because he finally nods. “I did this thing. Me. I’m responsible. And it’s been eating at me ever since.”

I climb out of bed and locate a bathrobe, knotting its belt about my waist. “In a way, Yolanda and her ultimatum did me a favor. This secret—” I say, swinging back to him “—it’s like it tainted all my time at my job. It’s to the point I’m not even sure I like what I do.”

“I’m not seeing a problem here,” Finn says. “Move in with me. Take all the time you need to figure out the career stuff.”

I climb up onto the foot of the bed. “I can’t.”

“Because you don’t trust me,” he says flatly. “You think if you tell me the truth I’m going to turn on you again and call you crazy.”

“No. Not at all.” Then an image swims before me of how he looked that day outside the jewelry store. “Well…maybe a little.”

He nods and clears his throat. Shakes his head. “Okay. I can work with this. Don’t tell me, then. Just be with me. Keep your secret until the day you trust me, or the day it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“That’s no way to begin a relationship.”

“A marriage, Liv. If I have my way, we’re going to be married.”

I swallow. “Be honest. Do you want a partner who’s hiding something? Is that good enough for you? Because it wouldn’t be for me.”

He looks away. And I think he’s feeling rejected when the truth is I love him so much it hurts. There’s nothing wrong with him.

“Finn…” I crawl into his lap and pull his face to mine, willing him to understand. “You know how you needed time and space away from your dad to figure out what you wanted to do? I—I need the same.”

“But I took my time away with you, Liv.” He looks so hurt, so bewildered, it’s making it hard for me to breathe.

“I know. I just—I can’t be with you and figure this out.” Maybe it’s dumb, and maybe it’s just stupid pride, but when I tell him the truth, before I see the disappointment on his face, I want to be part of the way toward having my mistake fixed.

“How long, Liv?”

“I-I wish I knew. But I can tell you this: when I’m done, if you still want me, I’ll come to you.”

He pulls me close, then. We end up making love again. But I notice he hasn’t committed to waiting. And I don’t know if his quiet is because he agrees with my plan or because I’m asking too much. And I don’t press him. I’m not sure I can bear to hear the answer.

Chapter 21

Finn

From the bedroom window, I watch Liv slip out the villa’s front door. She winds past the mango trees and stops to wave, looking like a sad but determined flower in her yellow dress.

I wave back, aiming to project love, composure and total acceptance. Bye, honey. See you later at the send-off party, where I’ll kiss you goodbye and hope you’ll remember me during our unspecified number of months apart.

Yeah, not freaking likely. Not when that would be replicating exactly the mistake I made a decade ago.

I smile and wave, and the minute she’s out of sight I place the first of two calls.

“Got any idea why Olivia Prosser would be regretful over something involving the word ‘fraud’?” I demand of Darcy.

“Uh, no,” he says. “Do you have any idea what time it is here? I’m not even done digesting my dinner.”

I’ll probably feel guilty later, but right now I decide I pay him enough not to care. “Did you do a background check on her?”

“Of course.” He sounds more awake now. “She’s squeaky clean.”

“You’re sure?”

“At this point I practically know her freckle distribution,” he says irritably. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

“What about Acheson?”

“Him? He had a few speeding tickets over the years but nothing else. Why?”

“Nothing. Go back to sleep,” I say, and hang up.

My next call is to Reginald, whose smooth baritone sounds no different at 6:30 a.m. than at midnight. When I tell him what I have in mind, he raises no objection other than the need to find another discreet party.

“I don’t really trust any of the younger staff,” he says.

I think back to the spiked drink, the pool dive, and the involuntary piercing that set off my whole conversation with Darcy. “I agree,” I say. “No younger staff. But I know someone who might be willing to help.”

Fortunately, Reginald has access to the guest registry.

Chapter 22

Liv

Despite my promise to attend I nearly skip the morning debriefing. I don’t care to be publicly shunned by the white team again, or be put on the defensive about the prior day’s decisions. And why should I go through that when the alternative is extra time on the beach?

But Finn must be caught in a work situation because he doesn’t answer my text, the beach alone holds less appeal, and ultimately, I’m dying of curiosity.

Inside the ballroom, the atmosphere is electric—a mixture of anticipation, exhilaration, and pending farewells. All around me, formerly stiff colleagues embrace, exchange personal phone numbers and dirty jokes. Yolanda has planted some good seeds here, and a significant part of me wishes I could be around to watch them bear fruit.

I have just decided to grab a chair at one of the emptier tables toward the back when Princess approaches. I brace myself. What now? A rebuke? A Biblical quote about betrayal?

Instead she greets me with a soft, “Good morning. I’ve been sent as team ambassador. Will you come sit with us?”

I blink. “I don’t think so.”

“Please,” she says. “We want you to join us. Look.”

She points to a banquet table near the front, where the rest of the white team is seated, minus Finn. They beckon with expressions of real friendliness, so when Princess seizes my hand, I allow her to pull me forward.

Roger stands and is the first to speak. “Olivia, I owe you an apology for yesterday. I got caught up in the moment and didn’t handle it well.”

“Me, too.” Tad’s Adam’s apple bobs. “I don’t think you made the right call but I respect your effort. Sorry for being curt.”

There is a chorus of agreement and Tucker pushes a plate with a cookie toward me. “Macadamia nut. Your favorite, Kibble.”

I smile at Tucker and address the group. “Thank you, everyone. I wish there had been more time for us to talk the decision through.” Not that I would have been likely to change anything—not with what I knew in that moment—but I hope I would have at least listened to them.

And as I look around at their warm faces, I’m suddenly overwhelmed with the knowledge that I won’t be seeing this group after today. “It’s been a pleasure to work with you all,” I manage.

“Well, heck, honey,” Georgia says, “we might not be in the same office, but there’s no call to be sad. This isn’t goodbye.” She enfolds me in a giant hug.

I’m spared from having to answer by the sight of Yolanda striding onto the stage. This morning she is dressed in a wine-colored pantsuit, with lips and nails painted a matching color. As she fastens a lapel microphone to her jacket, we take our seats. A hush falls over the audience. Their faces are rapt.

“Good morning, everyone.” Yolanda begins by apologizing again for the delay on account of the fire. “As a matter of fact, I’m leaving in a few minutes to join our team in Corpus Christi. Rather than do an extensive debriefing, we’ll cut to the heart of the matter.”

As she explains to everyone about Georgia and Sam being part of the setup, and the audience reacts with comical disbelief, I scan the ballroom for Finn. I can’t see him anywhere. Is he leaving with Yolanda? Before I have a chance to say a proper goodbye? My stomach does an uncomfortable flip at the prospect.

You’re a dummy, I tell myself. What difference will a few hours make when you’ve already decided you can’t be with him?

“If you were made uneasy by yesterday’s exercise,” Yolanda says, leaning forward, “excellent.” She grins broadly as the audience laughs. “That discomfort is because we deliberately put the participants in a no-win situation. They could take care of their teammate, or they could pursue their goal. But the way the exercise was designed, they could not achieve both.”

She stretches an arm overhead. “Hands up if you agree with the white team that your teammate should come first.”

Besides me, a paltry three or four people raise their hand.

Yolanda nods. “The rest of you, take note. These are the few people in the crowd who’d have your back, no matter what.”

There’s a smattering of uneasy laughter.

“Hands up if you agree with the blue team that it’s more important to make your goal.”

No surprise, the majority of the room has an arm in the air.

“Excellent,” Yolanda says. “I bet you’re all fantastic at making deadlines, which means your managers probably appreciate you. But now—” She pauses with her hands on her hips and her eyes flash with excitement. “Now let’s make the situation a little more complicated. What if…” She walks a few steps. “What if…instead of giving you a teammate, I saddle you with a dead weight? Let’s say one of your members can’t help you out because they just shot up in the bathroom with a little somethin’-somethin’. Besides which, they don’t really feel like exerting themselves. Hands up if you want to stick with your teammate then?”

No one raises their hand this time, though Tucker gives me a look that makes me smile. He knows I’m actually thinking about it.

Yolanda nods as if she is unsurprised. “And what happens if I alter the reward? Let’s say yesterday, instead of making the prize a trip to Paris, I made it a trip to the local recycling center. How many of you goal-oriented folk would still fight to climb that rope?”

No one raises their hand.

Yolanda walks the length of the stage, her heels loud in the silence. “So what we have established,” she says, “is that yesterday, in the face of competing values, y’all made a subconscious calculation about where to draw the line between teammate or task. Agreed?”

She pauses for us to nod.

“And for most of you, I could shift that line with a teensy, tiny bit of conversation. So, if you had a disagreement within your group about where that line lay, it’s only because you plugged your equation with slightly different numbers.”

She pauses for effect. In the resulting silence, I can hear the hum of the AC.

“Well,” Yolanda says, “to my way of thinking, the problem isn’t the numbers; it’s that you need a whole different equation.”

From a wing of the stage, a woman attired in the resort’s uniform now wheels out a whiteboard.

“You all got yourselves pulled into a sideshow,” Yolanda says. “And that’s because I hijacked your brain.” She seizes a marker. “I know it’s been two days but does anyone recall the lessons from our very first exercise on the beach? The one with the sponges?”

A woman calls out an answer and Yolanda writes it down. “Right,” she says. “Number one: watch for default behaviors that are shaped by your environment.” Someone else adds a response and she nods. “Number two: always question your assumptions.”

She tosses the marker down and strides to the lip of the stage. “I used a number of environmental factors to shape your default behaviors and—this is very important—convince you that you were in a no-win situation. Who can tell me what those factors were?”

Within a few minutes, she has another list: that we were in a competition, faced with an intimidating task, fighting a ticking clock. And that the other team saw the same set of limitations so they couldn’t inspire us.

“What else?” Yolanda asks as the suggestions die down. She turns to look at me directly. “Liv? I think you know. Care to share with the group?”

I climb to my feet. “You were using symbols of authority, so it would be intimidating to confront you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Normally this is where I’d be feeling self-conscious, but that sense of freedom I was flirting with yesterday on the way to Finn’s? It is suddenly with me again. “You used a shrill whistle and had a clipboard. Sunglasses. You stood on a platform while we were seated below you. I remember thinking you were dressed like a drill sergeant.”

Yolanda beams. “Exactly the effect I was going for. Excellent.” She writes that all down on the board. I am about to sit when she says, “Okay, Liv. Let’s pull this all together, so everyone can see the default assumptions that were made. What else about how I was dressed?”

Silence drags while I shake my head. “I don’t—”

“Anything about the colors in particular, and how they differed from day to day?”

I close my eyes to gather the relevant images. On the beach, Yolanda had been a riot of color, making it comparatively easy to keep an eye on her location, whereas yesterday, she had been wearing only— “Oh, god,” I say as my eyes pop open.

Yolanda’s laughter is filled with delight. “I think Liv figured it out.”

“Well, explain it to me because I haven’t,” someone calls out.

I stand straighter. “On the beach, she was dressed like a rainbow—”

“Yup,” Yolanda says cheerfully. “Ten colors, as a matter of fact.”

“Ten colors for ten teams,” I say. “And yesterday, she wore only two: blue and white.”

“Yeah, so?”

“She wore the colors of the competing teams,” I say. “She was signaling that she was part of our team.”

Now the audience is collectively babbling and heads turn and dip in side conversations. I sit down and rub the goosebumps erupting on my arms.

“I love it when people catch on,” Yolanda says. “Olivia’s got it. The assumption made by both teams yesterday—the erroneous assumption—was that I was closer to being an enemy than a teammate. Ergo—” she winks at me “—that I wouldn’t be willing to change the rules.” She holds up a finger and waits for silence. “To win, all it would have taken was a single, rational objection to the rules and I would have changed them on the spot. Suddenly—” she snaps her fingers “—no more values conflict.”

“You’re saying nobody won,” Tucker calls out.

“Correct,” Yolanda says. “And before you get up in arms, teams have in the past, so it’s perfectly doable. But the good news is that both the white and blue teams qualify for the runner-up prize.”

She pauses for another few seconds to let us absorb it all.

“So let me break this down in plain terms,” she says, “because if there’s one message we want you to take from this retreat, it is this: Despite our best efforts, there will be times when Finn, or me, or your immediate supervisor, asks too much of you. Or times when we accidentally create an environment that ties your hands.” Yolanda places her hands over her heart and drops her voice. Her face takes on an expression of earnestness. “Though we will do our best to avoid that, we are human. We are fallible. And we rely on you to speak for yourselves and your vulnerable teammates.” She allows her arms to drop. “And now, with my sincere thanks for your effort, I declare the official part of this retreat to be over. Go forth and play, Wakefielders. You’ve earned the right.”

She bows as the crowd surges to its feet in applause. Then she is gone and I realize I lost my chance to say goodbye. Meanwhile, Finn still hasn’t texted me.

Chapter 23

Liv

For their final blowout party, Wakefield hired a yacht. For the past several hours, we have been cruising around the island, pausing at strategic locations to take care of the sports-minded in the crowd. We are on the third such hiatus now, and from my position on the upper deck, I lean on the railing and watch the hum of activity below.

Surrounded by snorkeling gear and waterproof cameras, three dive masters prepare to lead eight budding oceanographers into the water. Meanwhile, one of two motorboats stands by, waiting to take on the adventurous souls who want to parasail.

Behind me, a reggae band plays while people dance in the sun or splash in the kidney-shaped pool. There’s a seafood buffet set up under a canopy and the booze flows freely. I don’t think the blenders have stopped roaring once. A few people are pretty deep in the sauce, and as long as they don’t drown themselves or start brawling, why not? There are no corporate types to take note, no one to judge since Yolanda is off on her flight and Finn never made the boat.

At least, I don’t think he made the boat. I can’t find him despite having walked the vessel a number of times.

In spite of the frivolity erupting around me, I’m having a hard time faking happiness on account of this last fact. We’re due to dock at seven, and from there, Tucker and I will proceed almost immediately to the airport. I haven’t changed my mind about anything Finn and I discussed. I don’t know why it matters to me that we won’t have time for a formal goodbye. All I know is that it does.

Tucker sidles up and hands me a Jamaican punch. He puts his back to the rail and turns his face to the sun as he takes a slug of his own beer. “You’re moody today. What’s going on?”

I take a sip of my drink. Earlier, when I thought I’d have this time with Finn and didn’t want to waste a moment in dealing with Tucker’s reaction—because there’s no doubt about it, he won’t take my jobless status with good grace—I had decided to tell Tucker everything on the way home from the airport. Maybe I should ease him into the news.

But to my left, someone states my name in a mellifluous voice I’d know anywhere.

“Reginald.” I straighten and my heart leaps at the prospect he’s come with news from Finn.

He inclines his head. “I’ve come to fetch you for your parasailing ride.”

“Oh.” I try not to look too deflated. “I didn’t put my name on the list.”

“Mr. Wakefield took the liberty earlier. For you both.”

At the mention of Finn’s name, Tucker’s eyes abruptly gleam with the light of competition. “Do something to earn special treatment, Liv?”

I decide to ignore him. “Will Mr. Wakefield be joining me?” I ask Reginald.

“Unfortunately, no. Work duties have claimed his attention. But he sends his regrets and hopes you will take this opportunity to have fun in his absence.”

I turn back to the railing. “Thank you, but I’m not in the mood.”

“Well, I am,” Tucker says to Reginald. “You’re set up for two passengers, right?”

Reginald doesn’t so much as blink but I sense he is taken aback. “Yes. Mr. Wakefield planned to go with Ms. Prosser.”

Tucker seizes my hand. “C’mon, Liv. I’ll keep you company. It’ll be great.”

Reginald’s nose elevates slightly. “I’m not sure Mr. Wakefield would approve. His instructions—”

“Well, he’s not here to object, is he?” Tucker says, and with that, he sets his beer on a nearby table and heads for the stairs. A few seconds later, he reemerges on the deck below and approaches the stationary boat, where he says a few words to the captain before hopping aboard. Tucker stretches out on a seat and looks up. When he finds me, he beckons impatiently.

“I’m sorry,” I say to Reginald. “I apologize for my friend’s bad manners.”

His eyes are kindly. “I’m not sure why you would. His behavior reflects only on him. Now please, my lady.” His hand sweeps toward the stairs. “Allow me to take care of you. Mr. Wakefield wanted you to end the trip with a memorable experience.”

I sigh and surrender to the inevitable. “Why not?”

I nod a greeting to the captain of the boat when I climb aboard. He’s an older Asian man—mid-seventies, maybe, with a build that implies wiry strength.

Maybe it’s my glum mood, but the setup strikes me as odd. For one thing, both men are decades older than the crew on the other boat. For another, they seem mismatched to each other. Mr. Lee carries out his duties with an economy of movement, while Reginald has a dancer-like grace. And while Reginald’s ethos is one of refinement, Mr. Lee has a directness that reminds me of a friend’s father, a former detective for the Springfield PD. What would make a butler and retired cop work together to give parasailing rides in Jamaica?

Also, there is an odd moment when Tucker bends to remove his shoes and the two of them exchange a glance over his back. It seems conspiratorial and …self-congratulatory.

But Finn would never send someone he didn’t trust, and when the two of them go over safety procedures, they seem accomplished and knowledgeable, so I relax.

They explain that it’s unlikely we’ll go near the water other than to get sprayed incidentally when we’re first fed out on the cable, or upon our return to the boat. Nonetheless, Tucker and I strip to the essentials. I tuck my shoes, my purse and my beach wrap into a compartment in the gunwale. Under my life jacket, I’ll wear my tank top and boy shorts. They have me reapply sunscreen and braid my hair so it won’t get tangled, then take immaculate care while fastening the harness.

We pull away from the yacht. It isn’t long until Tucker and I stand on a platform at the rear of the boat as the sail billows behind us. Then the harness tightens and we are airborne, reeled out smoothly to ever greater heights above an ocean that’s reassuringly calm. The sensation pulls a gasping laugh out of me.

For a brief while, Jamaica is a green, picturesque land mass to my left. We pass by boats with colorful sails and houses with private beaches. Despite myself, my mood lifts and I grin at Tucker, who smiles back. He grabs my hand and kisses it briefly before letting go and pointing out a particularly gorgeous mansion.

If I can’t be with Finn, this makes for a pleasant diversion. I’ve missed this side of Tucker. He looks all of sixteen, and there isn’t a scrap of cynicism or shrewdness on his handsome face. This is the man I wish Finn could see so he could understand why I can’t cut Tucker loose, despite his many faults. This is the man who has been mistreated by his stepfather, yet still sends a check every month to his mom and younger brother. An ember of gentleness still burns within.

Below, Mr. Lee cuts a gentle curve out to the wide-open expanse of the sea.

I touch Tucker’s elbow. “I wish we were sticking closer to the land.”

He shrugs. “Less boat traffic.”

We float on, the hum of the engine far below, and while it’s beautiful, it’s also monotonous. Just when I’ve decided I’m done, that I’m going to signal I want to be pulled in and Tucker can continue on in solo flight, a land mass appears ahead and the boat alters its trajectory.

“Those are cays,” Tucker shouts at me when I point them out.

They’re like baby islands in a chain of diminishing size, habitation, and foliage. The last cay is little more than a sandbar with a few trees, a hut, and a bunch of seabirds who aren’t any too impressed with the motorboat. It’s picturesque, and I doubt many tourists have been treated to such a sight, but I’m relieved when the boat rounds the last cay and swings northward, all indications being that we’re retracing our path. Finally.

Only…Mr. Lee cuts the angle too tightly, and we’re suddenly losing altitude.

Tucker and I look at one another and simultaneously begin shouting at the boat. “Speed up, speed up!”

Reginald acknowledges us with a wave. He turns to speak to Mr. Lee in an alarmingly casual fashion.

The descent continues. If anything, the boat slows.

“What the hell? Old fools.” Tucker turns to me, his expression urgent. “Listen, Liv. I think we’re going down. Bend your knees when we land.”

I nod and grab his hand, holding on tightly. I can see what he sees—that we’re headed either for the small strip of beach or the shallows off the south end of the cay. I have time to think, God, I hope this won’t hurt. And then my feet strike the water.

Tucker and I stand in the shallows, staring at one another. His eyes look as round as mine feel. We are both panting. I must have bit my tongue at the last, because my mouth tastes of copper.

“You okay?” I finally manage.

He swallows. “Yup. You?”

I nod. In the end we’d landed as lightly as thistledown. My feet rest upon sand that is as gold and fine-grained as that of the resort. My hair isn’t even wet. For a moment, it feels like we’ve pulled off the best possible outcome under the circumstances.

But something’s not right. The motorboat idles in front of us, making no move to draw nearer. Its two occupants watch us with expressionless faces.

I shake my head at Tucker. “I don’t think that was an accident.”

I’m definitely positive it wasn’t when the cord tethering us to the boat is abruptly released. We stagger back and nearly go under. Now that there’s nothing anchoring us in front, I can feel the parasail providing slight backward traction.

“Harness off,” Tucker shouts, and the next few minutes are spent in fumbling urgency lest we are dragged out to sea or, worse, into the ocean’s depths.

Then we are free. We wade to shore.

Tucker insists we pull the sail with us and gather it up onto the beach. My arms ache as we fight the lapping waves, but his reasoning is sound. Until we know what’s going on, we can’t afford to give up a single resource. It’s hitting me how vulnerable we are. We have nothing but our life jackets and the clothes on our bodies—no ID, no means of communication, no food, no drink. No idea about the purpose behind the two men’s actions.

Have we been tricked by a pair of mismatched pirates? Are we being held for ransom?

The one thing I am sure of is how grateful I am to have Tucker here. My god. If he hadn’t insisted on coming along, if I was facing this alone…

When all the equipment is in, I collapse on the beach. I reach a trembling hand to work my life jacket’s zipper when a movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.

I turn my head. I blink.

Five hundred feet away, a shape has detached itself from the rudimentary hut that occupies a small stand of palms. The shape is a man. A man in a T-shirt and board shorts. I reach out, groping for Tucker’s arm to shake it in warning, and watch disbelievingly as the man turns into a known and formerly beloved figure. Finn.

I climb to my feet.

Finn has one hand to his brow—a visor shading his eyes as he looks across the water to the boat. He lifts the other hand in a signal and Reginald waves in reply. The boat roars to life and heads north, toward Jamaica.

“What the hell?” Tucker says from beside me. “What is he doing here?”

While Tucker might yet be baffled, things are sliding into place for me: Finn’s earlier, uncharacteristic acceptance of my refusal. His absence at the party, giving him time to set this up. The unusual choice of helpmates. Even Reginald’s subtle implication that Tucker wouldn’t be welcome on the ride, thus guaranteeing Tucker’s absolute interest.

“You might want to groom your whiskers,” I say to Tucker, and start toward Finn. Because while I might be slow to catch on, I sure as hell know when I’ve been transformed into a lab rat.

Chapter 24

Finn

Yolanda is real big on challenging assumptions. Turns out in planning this gig, I made several that have already been proven false. I hope that doesn’t speak to the potential success of this mission.

Assumption number one: That it would be a piece of cake to get Liv and Tucker to the cay.

Reality: I’ve been a nervous wreck from the minute I heard the whine of the motorboat, and when I saw Liv and Tucker headed for the water, and the expression of fear on her face… It’s taking everything I have to project an aura of confidence as I walk toward them.

Assumption number two: That I would be facing two very pissed-off people.

Reality: Once she spots me, Liv gets what this is about almost instantly, and she’s not pleased. But Tucker seems baffled. That has to mean Liv hasn’t told him anything about last night, which is an encouraging sign. Since Darcy couldn’t come up with any helpful insights about Liv’s deep dark secret, my best hope of this coming out the way I want—to get everything on the table—is by dividing and conquering. All to the better, then, if they begin with less than perfect unity.

Assumption number three: Tucker will fall into the asshole role and further alienate Liv.

Reality: Gone is the petulant challenger of the last few days. If I had to guess, it’s the adrenaline of the landing that banished him. Unfortunately, he’s been replaced with a Tucker at his most dangerous best.

“What’s going on?” Tucker says, when they draw level with me. He stands just behind Liv’s shoulder, his hands in his pockets, alert but at ease. Liv’s self-appointed protector.

“We’ve been kidnapped,” Liv says.

“I prefer to think of it as strategically relocated,” I say. “The boat will be back in a few hours.”

Liv looks away with a snort devoid of amusement.

“Wonder what the authorities will call it,” Tucker says.

“A small-group exercise,” I say. “I have a lot of latitude with the waiver you signed for the week, and we’re definitely working on communication.” I’m bluffing, of course. I’m on such shaky legal ground I didn’t run this escapade past DeShawn or Yolanda. I knew they’d string me up by my nuts.

“Even if true, that would only apply to employees,” Liv says pointedly.

Tucker’s head swivels casually enough toward her, but his eyes have taken on a shrewd cast and he pulls his hands from his pockets. “Which you are,” he says to her carefully, testingly.

She shakes her head. “I resigned last night. They offered me a new job and it didn’t suit me.”

“Your letter’s in the bottom of the shredder, where it belongs,” I say. But neither pays me any attention. There’s some kind of silent communication going on between them—the kind that pushed my jealousy buttons in the old days, and that frankly doesn’t feel so great to witness right now.

Play along with me and I’ll fill you in later, I imagine Liv saying to him with her eyes. Whatever she sees in response must be reassuring, because her shoulders visibly relax.

Tucker turns to me. “What a shame,” he drawls. “A great loss for the company. So what’s your plan, then? We stay here and what?”

“We talk. We probably argue.” I look directly at Liv, willing her to see the depth of my love for her. “And if Liv agrees to honor me with another chance, maybe we even celebrate.”

“An odd way to win a lady’s heart. But I guess if you can’t manage a normal courtship…” Tucker gives an elaborate shrug. “And I’m here why, exactly?”

“Because you pushed your way in,” I say.

Liv snorts and shakes her head at me. She knows I’m full of it—that with Reginald’s help, I set an irresistible trap for Tucker’s ego.

“I told Finn I can’t be with him because I have a shameful secret,” Liv says. “He knows you’re in on it.” Again comes a moment where I’m positive she’s warning him into silence. She turns to me. “What I want to know is, are you going to threaten Tucker’s job if I don’t cooperate?”

A few hours from now, if I hadn’t been getting anywhere, that was one point of leverage I was prepared to exploit. But Liv’s too damn smart. She’s ahead of me, boxing me in. Her narrowed eyes and the angle of her chin warn me the wrong answer will derail everything I hope to accomplish here. And right now, compared to the unusually composed Tucker, if I say yes, that I’m prepared to fire him to get to her, I look downright unhinged.

“When you have time,” Tucker says, “I’d like to hear the answer to this one, too.”

I have to work to unclench my jaw. “Of course not. You’ll be judged by normal performance standards.”

“Huh,” Tucker says. “Good to know.” He stares meditatively at the sand for a moment then spins on his heel. “Well, c’mon, Kibble.” He takes a few steps toward their discarded life jackets before realizing she isn’t keeping pace. “Coming?”

She looks uncertainly at me, then back to him. “To do what?”

“Scavenger hunt. Finn knows you could have snapped a leg when we landed. He doesn’t have a phone on him—pockets are too small—but he wouldn’t bring you here without having a way to communicate.”

“You were never in danger,” I tell Liv. “I had them practice five times before I let them fetch you.”

“So considerate,” she says. “A kidnapper with a commitment to safety.” Liv’s eyes flicker assessingly over me. “You want my trust? Start by emptying your pockets, buster.”

“Since you’re the one asking…” I oblige by pulling them inside out and cock an eyebrow at her. “Want to do a pat-down, too?”

“Pass.” And she’s off after Tucker without sparing me a backward glance.

I exhale and take a minute to compose myself before following. I lost that round decisively. But Liv hesitated to join him. She grimaced when Tucker called her by that ridiculous nickname. We’ve got plenty of time for his gentlemanly facade to slip.

Also, I’ve brought props.

Chapter 25

Finn

I chose the cay because of its remoteness, but also its diminutive size. When trying to engineer a showdown with someone, it helps if they can’t simply hole up in a separate location.

At high tide, which we are at now, there’s an acre-sized scrap of sandy beach to the south. A few coconut palms lie to the east. Their fronds wave lazily in the offshore breeze, providing shade and modest shelter to a three-sided hut made of weathered wood. The north shore faces the nearest land mass—a larger cay that’s about two miles away. But the rocks make the north shore virtually inaccessible. Some are sharp-edged, most covered in guano, and they host a variety of nesting seabirds. For people without footwear it’s not an inviting landscape.

So yes, Tucker can search and try to undermine my plans, and Liv can avoid conversation by helping him, but after fifteen minutes or so, they’re going to run out of distractions. Then maybe the real work can begin.

When Liv wants to head straight for the hut, Tucker shakes his head. “Too obvious.” Instead he leads her on a grid search of the beach, kicking at any sandy areas that appear disturbed, in a few places even dropping to his knees to excavate with his hands. The whole time he’s watching my face for a tell.

When he nears the hut, he ignores it in favor of scanning the palm trees. The fucker even takes off his belt and, looping it around the closest trunk, uses it to climb twenty feet up. He cranes his neck to examine the foliage and spends a good while peering out over the water.

“Where’s a shotgun when you need one?” I’ve spoken under my breath, but Liv hears me and our eyes meet as she fights a smile.

“Don’t tell me you forgot about his skills,” she says, no doubt thinking of how Tucker helped feed Ada’s dogs.

“I don’t forget anything,” I say, holding her gaze and thinking of the sounds she made last night and this morning.

Heat flares in her eyes and her cheeks turn a gratifying pink. “I was talking about hunting.”

“Funny, so was I.” I smile at her as she huffs out a breath. In a way, this feels just like old times. “We can leave any time you want, Liv,” I say softly. “Please, just talk to me.”

Her eyes widen. “So there is a phone.”

Of course there’s a phone. And a default plan. If Reginald and Vince haven’t heard from me by six, they’re to come back and collect the bodies.

When I shrug without comment, she only shakes her head and looks away.

Tucker finally drops to the sand, clearly annoyed, and I try to hide my relief. It had been unlikely he’d find anyone to come to his rescue, but there was always the faint chance of a fishing boat or recreational sailboat happening by. Knowing Tucker, he’d figure out the means to flag them down, if only to thwart me.

He heads for the rocky shore while Liv opts to look in the hut.

I trail after her. For one thing, I want to be on hand for her upcoming discovery. For another, I’ve stashed a sat phone, cash, and ID in a waterproof bag under a pile of particularly filthy rocks. I’ve done my best to avoid leaving a detectable trail, and hopefully Tucker’s formidable tracking skills won’t be up to the unfamiliar terrain, but I don’t trust my poker face. Why make things easier for him?

As we enter the hut, I hear the noise of protesting seabirds, and sweeping shadows darken the doorway. Tucker is venturing into the rocks, then.

Nothing I can do about that, though, so I fold my arms over my chest and lean a shoulder against the wall as Liv takes inventory. She runs a hand over the insect repellent, the sunscreen, a first aid kit. There are towels, a soft cover-up I caught her admiring on the beach, one of those broad-brimmed hats women like to wear, and an extra pair of sunglasses. I even brought three beach chairs in case we get to a Kumbaya moment. She flips the lid of the cooler open and inspects the offerings—sandwiches, cut fruit, soda, chilled water. Even a bottle of champagne, should I be so lucky as to need one. Everything your sophisticated hostage might need to thrive during a couple hours of captivity.

She holds up the bubbly and arches a brow. “Cocky of you, isn’t it?”

“Hopeful,” I say. “The hope of a man in love.”

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Since the minute you left my bed this morning.”

She levels a gaze at me. “Don’t get me wrong. At some point, after my heart rate returns to normal and I can breathe without wanting to vomit, I’ll be moderately flattered you went to this trouble. But this is the wrong way to go about building trust.”

“How am I supposed to do it from a thousand miles away, Liv? I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

A sad expression sweeps over her face, and for a moment, before she bends to put the bubbly back in the cooler, her eyes glisten.

I run my fingers through my hair, wanting to comfort her, knowing she’ll rebuff me at this point. That expression is why I’m being such a manipulative asshole. Some part of her wants to be pushed to the truth.

She lifts the cooler to check under it and finally spots the paperwork. She pounces. “What’s this?” She brandishes the Ziploc bag.

“Information you deserve to know before you leave Jamaica. I only found out about it yesterday.”

She flicks an unreadable glance at me and pulls out the top sheaf of paper, grasping it with two fingers like she’s afraid it’s going to bite her. It’s a black and white photo of Tucker’s old girlfriend right before she slashed all four of my tires. Dressed as she is, with the hat and all, the woman is a pretty close ringer to Liv. If I had seen this picture before, I would like to think I would have spotted what Darcy did and know something was fishy. But given how predisposed I was to believe it was Liv doing the dirty work, I’m not sure I would have been that smart.

“We think that’s Cynthia Fisher,” I say.

Her head shoots up. “We?”

“Me and Wakefield’s PI. The second page is an itemized list of petty crimes she committed while impersonating you.”

Now I have her full attention so I explain everything I know. At some point she sinks onto the lid of the cooler. Rather than hover over her, I unfurl one of the beach chairs and sit. When I’m finished, there’s a long silence.

“I—I can’t say I’m all that surprised,” she finally says. “I was a mess when I got back from Jacksonville. I cried on Tucker’s shoulder for a week, which is probably how he got the idea. Even before that, he was very angry at you on my behalf. I always thought it was weird he didn’t drive down to Jacksonville and call you out, or something.” She frowns. “Guess he did after all, in his typical backhanded way.” She shoves the documents back in the Ziploc and, standing, places them in my hand. Then she pulls a diet cola from the cooler, pops the tab, and takes a long swig.

I stand, waiting expectantly. When she offers nothing further I say, “That’s it? I tell you he deliberately sabotaged us, and that’s your reaction?”

“No,” she says, in the kind of tone you’d use to speak to a fractious child. “When I’ve calmed down and I’ve had a drink, I’ll speak to him.”

“If you got any calmer, you’d be comatose.”

Her eyes widen and she makes a noise of disgust. “Look, guy, don’t mistake a lack of hysteria for a lack of concern. And let me tell you, you’ve got a lot of nerve. I’ve had roughly six hours in Jamaica where I haven’t been marking up drawings, or climbing up stupid ropes, or losing my job. Six hours. I had hoped to spend the last couple with you, in idle frolic and revelry—”

“I can frolic.”

“—instead, I get this: a kidnapping, a dusty hut, and an interrogation.”

“I see the wooing is going well,” Tucker says from the doorway, his timing impeccable, as usual. My one comfort is that he remains empty-handed. His lip curls as he scans the contents of the hut. When he spots the soda in Liv’s hand, he perks up. “Got an extra?”

“I’ll do you one better.” With an overly sweet smile directed at me, Liv pulls the champagne from the cooler, along with two paper cups. She passes the lot to Tucker.

“Cool,” Tucker says. He squints to inspect the label. “This is good stuff, Finnegan. What did it set you back? Two hundred bucks?”

“Five,” I say glumly, as he peels off the foil and starts untwisting the wire cage.

“Open it on the beach,” Liv directs Tucker. “Pour me a tall one while you’re at it. We have to talk.”

“Okay,” Tucker says, obviously sensing trouble. He shifts things until he’s holding the bottle and cups in one hand, and scoops up the two folded beach chairs in another. He ambles out of the hut.

“You—” Liv points her finger at me. “You will stay here.”

“But—”

“I mean it. I want to talk to him alone.”

I nod, because what else can I do? But I shift my position so I have a full view of the beach and can watch their body language.

At first they’re busy pouring the champagne. Then they turn and toast me ironically before tossing the bubbly back, like it’s a shot. During their second glass, though, the drinking slows as the conversation intensifies. Tucker has set up the chairs, but neither bothers to sit. There’s a heated back and forth as I hold my breath—the heat mostly on Liv’s side. Then Tucker slumps into a chair, looking sullen, as Liv makes her way back to the hut.

“Yup,” she says when she arrives. “He put Cynthia up to it. He admitted it all.” Liv bends to set her cup inside a cloth bag. “Boy, I needed that drink. I think my nerves have finally stopped jangling.” She stands and adjusts the hem on her shorts, the straps on her tank top.

“And?” I say, when she can no longer avoid looking at me.

“And…” She takes a deep breath. “I told him he’s done interfering in my life.” A dimple appears in her cheek. “I told him I hope he gets Zika.”

I blink. I gape. I blink and gape simultaneously.

“Zika’s pretty bad,” she says defensively. “You can end up in a wheelchair.”

When I fold my arms over my chest she throws her hands up in exasperation. “Well, what did you want me to say, Finn? Want me to cut him out of my life for something that’s ancient history? Would that satisfy you?”

I raise my eyebrows at her.

“Do you have any idea how much I owe that man?”

“What do you owe yourself, Liv?” When had she become someone who settled for so little? I remember her in her mom’s house, overwhelmed with the dogs, overwhelmed with work, overwhelmed with “stuff.” There was still part of her that hoped—that knew—she’d have a better life one day. I don’t understand her willingness to go backward. “We’d be together now if it weren’t for him.”

“Would we?”

I’m about to argue—to explain once again how Tucker’s interference always came when I was about to beg her forgiveness—when the bleakness in her challenge finally registers. I force myself to take a deep breath. “Wait. You’re saying you wouldn’t have forgiven me if I showed up, hat in hand?”

She shakes her head at me. “Did you not listen to anything I told you last night? For the last time, Tucker is not the problem. This is about what I did.” She thumps her chest for emphasis. “Me.” Thump. “My loss of integrity.” Thump. “My actions.” Thump. “But while we’re on the subject of Tucker, I’m getting effing tired of you both making everything into a contest about me. It needs to stop. I effing picked you a decade ago and I effing repicked you last night. Either you stop acting so insecure about him or you can just—” she flaps her arms “—go to hell.”

I fall back a step. Her ferocity is shocking. As a rule, Liv doesn’t swear. Liv doesn’t raise her voice. In fact, the only time I’ve ever seen her let go, despite ample provocation, is the day she thought I was cheating on her.

She’s not backing down, either. Her chin is set at a mutinous angle and she huffs out a breath as she flops into the chair.

I stagger out of the hut, needing some space to think.

The sun is at an angle over the water that forces me to shield my eyes against the brightness. Down the beach, Tucker is slumped in a chair, one arm thrown over his eyes. While Liv and I have been dueling over our relationship, he fell asleep. The champagne bottle lies on its side in the sand. Beside it, his discarded paper cup rolls in a listless semicircle, teased by the breeze.

I don’t listen. Liv thinks I don’t listen. My biggest complaint about my father—the barrier that kept us apart all my life, and that nearly took down his company—was his inability to hear anyone’s opinion but his own. Now she’s telling me I’m acting like my old man.

I could dismiss her words, but she did try to get her message across last night. And Yolanda warned me I’d be going down the wrong route if I made this about Tucker. Why have I been so determined to make him the fallguy? Because it’s familiar? Because it’s easy? Because I thought it was a hack and would get me where I wanted to go fast?

I turn to look at the man I have been treating like a nemesis.

I won Liv the first time simply by being with her and loving the people she loves—or if I couldn’t do that, by at least treating them well. So that’s my answer. Being with her means accepting that sulky lump of humanity not only now, but from this moment forward. Can I really do that for her?

Can I?

I take a few minutes, and when I think I have myself back in hand, I reenter the hut.

Liv has turned in the chair, so that her head is on one arm rest and both legs are slung over the other. Her expression is one of acute misery. When she sees me, her face blanks and she swings herself upright. Her eyes widen as I sink to my knees and seize her hand.

I clear my throat and take a moment before I begin. “You’re the best person I know, Liv, and I want you to be happy, with or without me. You need time? Okay. I don’t like it, but I’ll respect it. However long it takes. But when you’re ready to deal with whatever this mistake was, if I can help, let me be a part of it. You need a lawyer? Consider it done. If Tucker needs one, I’ll pay for that, too. Whatever it is, we’ll face it together, all three of us.”

Her face is softening, and I’m starting to feel my chest loosen, because damn it, it actually feels good to let go of my resentment. I decide to keep going. “Speaking of Tucker, if it means that much to you, I’ll make nice with him. I’ll drive to Ohio and barbecue ribs with him Friday nights—at least the Friday nights that’s possible. I’ll guarantee him lifelong employment at Wakefield’s.” Even if I have to put him in the mail room. I take a deep breath. “I’ll—”

“You hate ribs,” she says.

I laugh without humor. “Yeah, I do. I really really do.” As far as I’m concerned, they’re the equivalent of greasy dental floss. “But I’ll choke ’em down for you, babe. Just—” I swallow and my voice wants to catch. “You’re a person who doesn’t quit on anyone. Please—” I feel my eyes prickling and have to look down to where my knees meet the sand, so I don’t start bawling. It’s a good while before I can look up again. “Please don’t start quitting with me.”

Miracle of miracles, an answering moisture rises in her eyes. She swallows and squeezes my hand. Her tongue comes out to wet her lips. Her mouth opens.

And then a shadow falls over us as Tucker looms in the doorway. “Nice pitch, Finnegan. Too bad you’re so lousy at the follow-through.” To Liv, he says, “Don’t listen to him. He’s an Olympic gold medalist in unreliability.”

I feel like saying, What’s it to you? You’ll be taken care of no matter what happens. But I finally know why I came here today and I won’t be side-tracked. I bite my tongue and look at Liv, letting what I feel for her shine through my eyes, hoping it’s enough.

Liv stares right back. The edges of her mouth slowly creep upward.

“Kibble?” Tucker says, and his voice is the most uncertain I’ve ever heard it.

Maybe that’s what catches Liv’s attention, because this time her head rotates in his direction and she drops my hand.

“Come outside with me.” Tucker’s voice grows more authoritative. He smiles coaxingly. “I figured out where he hid his stash. I would have spotted it earlier but I was tired. Needed my afternoon nap.”

A line forms between her brows. “Don’t do that,” she says flatly.

“Don’t do what?” He blinks and for probably the first time in my life, I feel sorry for Tucker. I’m not sure he’s ever met the Liv I met a few moments ago, but I think he’s about to.

“Don’t call me Kibble,” Liv says. “I hate that.”

Tucker blinks. “It’s a term of affection. You know that. Jeez, why—”

“You always use it when you’re trying to make me feel small and I hate it.”

“Okay, okay.” Tucker puts up his hands. “Just don’t fall for Finn’s line. He said he loved you before and—”

“I’m not qualified for my job,” Liv blurts out.

It takes a minute for her words to register, because for one thing she’s looking at Tucker, not me, and for another, she said it so quickly, it sounded like a foreign word. Like something you’d say in Lithuanian when somebody sneezed. I’mnotqualifiedformyjob.

Then she jerks her head back to me. “My diploma is fake and so was my reference letter when I got hired. Everything’s fake. All fake. I’m a faking faker.”

And now a verbal torrent is unleashed, at times incoherent, at other times scrambled, but always drifting in the same direction.

At the lowest point in her life, at a time she will forever regret, Liv cheated. It’s true she was under stress, she tells me, but that’s no excuse. Ada was close to hospitalization, they were nearly out of money, and Liv had no time to study during her last year of college because of the pressing need to work. She’d spectacularly blown a final exam in one class, she was sure of it, and her non-attendance had alienated a professor who had previously volunteered a reference letter. Where once she had been a class favorite, he now couldn’t bear to look at her.

And oh, by the way, all this time later, Liv says, she continued to miss me.

Then lo and behold, what should arrive in the mail but the absolute best news. Suspiciously good news, but still. She’d passed—with honors in the difficult course—and the prof was willing to praise her in print.

She was reeling, dazed at the unexpected run of good luck, when yet more arrived. Tucker, already working for HMZ, had learned of a job opening. He had applied on her behalf and must have done a decent job of it, because she had an interview.

She had gone. She had killed it. The company offered. Then on the day she received her employment contract via registered mail—and boy, after years of receiving past-due bills, how weird it was to finally appreciate the magic of the post office—Tucker confessed.

The honors mark in the critical class? The work of a computer-savvy girlfriend in the departmental office. Good thing Tucker knew her, because Liv had definitely failed that exam. Definitely. And the prof’s unstinting recommendation? A sleight of hand, courtesy of the same girlfriend. It was amazing what one could accomplish with bootlegged stationery and the prose and signature copied from another student’s authentic letter.

But Liv shouldn’t worry about being exposed. Tucker had something on the now-ex-girlfriend, so she’d probably never blab. The prof had been diagnosed with stage four cancer, so he wasn’t currently available to contradict the paperwork. And if she were “lucky,” the prof would be cold in the ground before Liv ever required another reference.

All she had to do was say nothing, take the job, work her socks off, and earn her credentials in an unofficial apprenticeship.

Liv had almost done the right thing then by ripping up the contract and going to the university to confess. But she hadn’t.

She hadn’t, and the prof lived, and because she had given in to a craven impulse for self-preservation, she had never known a day’s peace while at work.

“Say something,” Liv says when she comes to the end of her speech.

Chapter 26

Finn

Throughout this recitation, Tucker has remained mute. He hasn’t moved, other than to pass Liv a towel since I hadn’t thought to bring Kleenex.

Truthfully, I’m feeling dazed and am having trouble summoning the appropriate words.

Ever since Liv mentioned the word “secret,” in anticipation of this moment, I imagined her confessing to a wide range of troubling scenarios. In most of them, I envisioned Tucker embarking on a criminal enterprise, with Liv getting caught in it incidentally—like, she thought she was driving him on an errand, only to discover she was the getaway driver in a bank heist.

In a few instances, I imagined Liv with a higher degree of culpability. Embezzlement, for instance, which is why a forensic accountant started poring over Tucker’s projects this morning.

I even imagined situations where Liv was the criminal mastermind, and Tucker the reluctant accomplice. Liv committing a hit and run, for instance, with Tucker confined to body dismemberment and disposal.

In all the scenarios I imagined, we’d basically be required to step off the plane and hire her a criminal lawyer and crisis management specialist.

But this, this is simultaneously both more mundane and consequential.

From what Yolanda and I have gathered, in the Tucker-Liv partnership, Liv performed most of the work while Tucker provided little in the way of engineering oversight. That’s scary enough. But if Liv’s not a technician, that means HMZ clients have been paying for the work of a professional engineer, yet acting on the opinion of a layperson.

A decade-worth of industrial clients who have built refineries and pipelines and gas plants.

And now that I’ve been made aware of the problem, it’s my responsibility to see their faulty work corrected. If I don’t, and there’s an injury or accident involving one of their projects, like the one which just occurred in Corpus Christi, Wakefield will be liable. We are talking potential legal exposure of company-destroying magnitude.

But as none of that is relevant or fixable right now, and I’m just grateful to finally be in Liv’s confidence, I squish her to me and hope I’m making the right noises of support.

They seem to be working. I can feel the tension ebbing from her body and she’s definitely hugging me back, when I hear myself say, “But that doesn’t make sense.”

“I know, I know.” She pats my chest and steps out of my arms. Her face is red and tear-streaked. She pushes her hair behind her ears and raises the towel again to blot her tears. “This isn’t an excuse, but I was irrational at the time and—”

“No. I mean—” I scratch my head “—it doesn’t make sense.”

She shakes her head in incomprehension.

I put my hands on my hips and search my memory for the scrap of conversation I’d had with Yolanda the other night, before I sent her to Liv’s room. I hadn’t been focusing very well, but a name finally floats into consciousness. “By any chance, was your reference from a Dr. Yakish?”

“Yes,” she says, fresh misery breaking over her face. “That was him.” She blows her nose and shakes her head in confusion. “Why?”

Why, indeed? It’s coming back to me now—what Yolanda casually dropped when I was distraught over Tucker’s interference.

“I don’t think you understand how much research Yolanda does to prepare for a retreat. Before you came on this trip, she had already read through your file and reviewed your transcripts.”

One of Liv’s shoulders comes up apologetically. “But I told you—you won’t see anything wrong. The paperwork looks normal.”

“No, I get it. But I don’t think you understand how thorough Yolanda is. Or how connected. Did I tell you she guest lectures for a few colleges?”

Liv shakes her head, clearly growing impatient. “And?”

“She knows your prof, Liv. As a matter of fact, she had dinner with him a few weeks ago and your name came up.”

Liv blinks.

“This…Dr. Yakish was very fond of you and wanted to know what became of you, especially since he’d been happy to write you a glowing reference. He’s one of the reasons we were confident about sending you back to school.”

Liv is frozen with the towel partway to her nose. Her eyes cut to Tucker, who has done little more in the last few minutes than shift his weight from side to side. Whatever she sees there causes them to widen.

“Think, Liv.” I keep my voice gentle because she’s so still she has to be in shock. “Did you ever talk to your prof about your marks? Did you ever challenge them in any way?” Do you have any verification you failed other than the word of a proven deceiver?

“No,” she says quietly, still watching Tucker’s face. She sniffs once. In the suddenly charged atmosphere of the hut, the sound seems incredibly loud. “Because if I had, that would have jeopardized—he would have picked up—”

She blinks and the towel slips from her grasp. She cocks her head and takes a step toward Tucker, her bare foot trampling the towel into the sand. “Did you lie to me?”

He takes a step back. “Liv, I—”

She closes the short gap by lunging at him with arms raised, so that her palms smack him at chest level. She’s a comparative lightweight, so she barely rocks him, but he takes another step back. All the cockiness has vanished from his face.

“Did you lie to me about my marks?” Another push, so they’re out of the hut now. “About my reference letter?”

I follow doggedly. Under normal circumstances, Tucker would never do anything to physically harm her, but I’ve never seen him like this. He looks like a cornered animal.

He twists his body to avoid a tree and now he’s backing up toward the rocks, sending the seabirds aloft again.

“Did you lie to me, Tucker?”

“Liv, I…”

She stops abruptly and puts a hand to her forehead. She paces a tight clockwise circle, muttering to herself, then pivots and traces the same route in reverse before halting a few steps from Tucker. She looks at him accusingly.

“Y-you let me work overtime to protect your job. You let me think I was a nobody. That I wasn’t capable. You let me think I wasn’t worthy of Finn.” She bends over, audibly panting, making sounds like she’s retching.

I want to go to her but my every instinct says she won’t want to be touched.

Tucker doesn’t heed the same impulse. When he strokes Liv’s back in a gesture designed to comfort, she raises her head and feeds him a look that could ignite diamonds.

“Get away from me.” Her voice is low, thick and tortured, like she’s been crying a thousand hours.

His face crumples. “Liv, I—”

“I said get away from me.”

I have always thought Tucker fought my relationship with Liv, partly out of reverse snobbery, and partly out of a dog-in-the-manger sentiment. But for a second our eyes meet over her hunched figure and I glimpse a misery so acute, so unfathomably boundless, that I suddenly get it; he loves her, the stupid sap. He loves her, and this was the only way he thought he could keep her.

Tucker tries to touch Liv again and is rewarded with a growl.

“Hey, buddy,” I say to him, raising my hands in a placating gesture as I step between them. “She said to give her some space, okay? Give her time. She’ll come around.”

“Get your hands off me.”

I haven’t touched him, but he’s red-faced and sweating—so overwrought I’m not sure he knows that. He tries to dodge around me to get to Liv.

I’m trying to be the bigger guy here. He’s suffering, and not ten minutes ago I promised to treat him with filial consideration, pretty much forever. But he isn’t making it easy. “Why don’t we go back to the hut and get a cold drink.”

“I don’t want anything from you, you condescending prick. Get out of my way.”

I stand my ground.

His eyes blaze. “Get out of my way or I’m going to knock you into infinity.”

I’m suddenly out of patience. “Yeah? Try it and I’ll hit you back.”

“Do it, Finn. Do it!” Liv says from behind me.

I’m so startled I whip my head around to see if she means it, which is why I don’t see the giant fist coming until it’s too late. It lands on my ear—the one recently pierced by the fishhook—and pain blossoms abruptly, to the point I wonder if Tucker managed to split something open. I don’t dare check though, because of—hello—blood.

Liv is yelling something behind me but I tune her out. All I can feel are the dozens of hammers setting up a throbbing rhythm in my ear. All I can see is Tucker’s sneering face as he concludes I pose no threat. His lip curls and his hands drop. And as if my fist has turned into an autonomously powered vehicle now encountering a clear path, it launches itself forward.

I feel a satisfying crunch under my knuckles. When I pull my arm back, Tucker’s nose is askew. It has to hurt like hell, but his face is frozen in comical surprise, his mouth gaping enough to count the fillings in his lower teeth.

Tucker blinks and touches his fingers to his nose. The teeth reform into a scheming smile as he examines his hand, then twists his wrist to show me a few drops of scarlet.

Not my blood, I think. Not my blood.

A trickle of red emerges from his nostril.

Not my blood, not my blood.

“What the hell?” he says, as I remain on my feet.

I grin and lift my shoulders, taking care to remain in boxing stance. “I got a little therapy over the years. You should try it sometime.”

“Good,” Tucker says. “We can finally do this right.”

Then everything goes to pot.

Liv is screaming something while we go at each other. Our fists fly and connect. Occasionally we manage to block one another’s blows, but for the most part they land. He gets my ribs. I get his jaw. I get in a kidney punch, he gets my spleen. Then suddenly we’re grappling. Then down on the ground, rolling.

We work our way across the sand, closer to the rocks. I can see bad things ahead if we get there, even if we only end up sprawled in the guano. Easy to break a limb there. Or a head.

And then suddenly we’re springing apart and recoiling from an assault neither saw coming.

It takes me a moment to discover the source of the interruption. I am dripping. My hair and the left side of my body are cold. Ice cubes litter the ground around us, rapidly disappearing into the heated sand. In front of me stands a Liv who is both livid and firmly back in control of herself.

“Enough,” she says, tossing the empty cooler to the ground. “The first round was fun but it went rapidly downhill from there. Now I’m just bored.”

Tucker is the first to catch his breath. He reaches an imploring hand to her. “Liv—”

“No.” She shakes her head at him. “It’s time for you to go now. There’s nothing here for you anymore. Just go.”

“Go?” I say, scanning a horizon empty of all vessels. “Go where?”

But they’re caught in another moment of silent communion—she with her hands on her hips, her posture erect and resolute, he bowed and panting, with his once-proud nose gone awry.

After a time, Tucker nods. He straightens and limps in the direction of the beach, toward the discarded life jackets and parasail.

“Liv,” I say, “what’s going on?”

“Don’t worry about him,” Liv says, turning to face me.

“But I do worry,” I say. “I do. He’s not going to try to swim somewhere, is he? Because that would be a disaster.”

She shrugs her unconcern. “There aren’t many shark attacks in Jamaica. Maybe one a decade.”

“I know,” I say. “It’s one of the reasons we do our retreats here. But I’d still feel better if—”

“That was a pretty violent ending there,” she says, catching my face between her hands as Tucker picks up a life jacket. “Hey, are you all right?” She’s peering at me with such a look of loving concern, I let myself be distracted.

One kiss, I promise myself as I look into her hazel eyes. One kiss for our future, and to know the taste of victory, and then I’ll check on Tucker and make sure the bastard isn’t about to do something stupid.

Her lips are pink and moist. They part for me as I pull her forward. “Finn?” she says, as I nestle her lush, round breasts against my chest, where they belong. As I pull her hips snug against mine and wrap my arms around her back. “Are you okay?”

“That depends,” I say. “Are you going to marry me?”

“Of course,” she says. “After you rehire me.”

“Of course,” I say. “Now kiss me, Liv.”

And she does. And I pour everything I’ve got into it—my gratitude, my love, my promise to refrain from future kidnappings unless they are absolutely necessary. After a long moment, when I pull back, her arms are wound firmly around my neck and she looks gratifyingly dazed.

“The marine world is stirring,” she finally manages, and follows it with a crooked grin. “But seriously, are you okay?”

I sigh and release her, because it looks like we’re not going to have any fun until I do a quick inventory and answer her question. Plus, I need to check on that damn Tucker.

You’d think with all the pounding I’ve taken I’d be a mess, but I’m surprisingly fine. “It’s just my knuckles,” I say, shaking out my right hand. “His face is a lot harder than it looks. I think I might have broken my f—”

“Don’t!” Liv says. I register her widening eyes at the same time I realize what I’m about to do. What I’m doing.

What I’ve done.

Once more my autonomous arm has asserted itself, levitating muscle and flesh to shoulder height, bringing knuckles into view, along with their abraded skin.

Then the swooping bats join the circling seabirds, and I’m headed for a sand nap.

Chapter 27

Liv

In the limo from the Columbus International Airport, at the very moment I’m considering hyperventilating, Finn squeezes my hand. “You don’t have to be nervous. I’ll love you no matter what.”

“I know,” I say, squeezing back, because objectively he’s right. In the three weeks since our afternoon at the cay we’ve conquered so much together that I shouldn’t have doubts. But there’s something about bringing him to my apartment that makes everything real, especially since I left my place in a mess from last-minute packing.

If only I hadn’t left it in a mess.

In years past, in a situation like this, I could have called Tucker and bribed him into tidying up for me. But even if I were talking to him, I have no idea where he is right now. Nobody does.

What we do know is that while I was attending to Finn after he passed out, Tucker grabbed Finn’s hidden cache and managed to hang onto it as he swam to the nearest cay. There, he walked barefoot to the northern shore and flagged down some passing fishermen, who were happy to drop him in Port-au-Prince for the price of Finn’s watch. With a little creative use of Finn’s ID and credit cards, he made it as far as Aruba, where he purchased clothing, a pricey computer, and a phone before simply vanishing.

I would be worried, but his family has already heard from him. He is “traveling indefinitely” but will continue to send them money on a regular basis. So whatever he’s up to, it sounds like he’s landed on his feet.

I hope so. I’m still coming to terms with what Tucker did and what his deceit cost me over the years. I’m not sure I’ll ever find it in me to forgive him, though Finn is convinced I will soften eventually. For now, though, it’s enough to know Tucker is out there somewhere in the world, continuing to breathe oxygen.

As for Finn and me, we’ve been in Jamaica the past weeks. At first our departure was delayed because of Finn’s ID issues, then because I wanted my honeymoon to be in the villa where we reconnected.

We were married on the resort beach under a flower-laden arch with Mr. Lee acting as officiant. Everything came together so quickly I thought we’d have a limited number of guests: the crabs, Reginald, Yolanda and DeShawn. I would have been fine with that. But it turned out that Mr. Lee was at the resort with a number of friends, so our wedding ceremony and reception were enlivened by a bunch of feisty seniors.

My one regret is that my mama wasn’t able to join us, so in the coming weeks, we’ll be having a second ceremony with her in Stonybrook.

In the meantime, provided Finn can tolerate my place, he’s moving in with me. We aren’t willing to be parted again and I’m going to be busy at my old office, helping create the plan to set things right with my former clients.

As for Finn, he will fly out for business when absolutely required, but Yolanda has agreed to take on much of his workload until the fall. That’s when we’ll both move back to his Jacksonville house where, if all goes well, I’ll start university—ethics, as it turns out. Because while I’ve grown to appreciate Yolanda, let’s face it, the woman could use a little oversight.

But now, now we’re rounding the last corner before my apartment and pulling up to the curb.

My stomach lifts into my throat as Finn helps me out. I make him keep the luggage in the limo in case he doesn’t want to stay and direct him to take the stairs, rather than the elevator. His smile says he knows I’m delaying, that I shouldn’t worry. Soon enough my key is in the latch and he’s swinging me up into his arms to cross the threshold.

On the other side, we kiss until I’m breathless.

“This is it,” I say when he sets me down, “be it ever so humble.” But I hope he doesn’t find it too humble.

He tosses his overcoat on the sofa and goes on the prowl while I extract my keys from the door, and set my purse on the kitchen counter.

He says nothing as he walks around my all-white living room, which after the vibrancy of the villa seems both tiny and decorated on the cooler side.

But this is the big mess I was worried about? On the micro-suede sofa a few bras and a pile of items purged from my purse? Big deal. Piece of cake. We’ve got this.

I am similarly heartened as I trail Finn through the three-piece bathroom, and then into my bedroom, where he ignores the piled clothing on the bedside chair. He is immediately drawn to the print over the headboard—a black and white photo of the fire pit in the Stonybrook backyard. He speaks of that fire pit with great fondness.

“Liv…” Finn runs his hands through his hair until it is rumpled. “I’m sorry to say this, but we might have a problem.”

At first I think he’s teasing me, then he turns and I see his face. In the past three weeks it has been rare to catch him without a smile, but presently his mouth is a flat line.

There is a moment when my breath wants to leave my chest and my mouth floods with an acidic taste. Then I rein myself in. Challenge your assumptions, Liv, I remind myself. This is Finn, the man who cleaned septic tanks to be with you. You can fix this.

I clear my throat. “You wanted a king-sized bed?”

“Nope, though I wouldn’t object.”

“It’s the decor, isn’t it?” Because while I find it soothing, I know some people find it sterile. “You don’t like white.”

“I like it fine.” He takes a deep breath. “But…it’s not going to suit Bonnie and Clyde, and I was hoping to have them here with me. Plus, the rooms are on the small side.”

He’s truly lost me now. We’ve talked about everything under the sun when it’s been relevant, including past lovers. There’s no way he told me he had two children and it accidentally slipped my mind. Plus, why is his expression…sheepish?

“Finnegan,” I say, folding my arms under my breasts. “Who are Bonnie and Clyde?”

He winces. He pulls his phone from his pocket and after a few seconds of scrolling, hesitates before passing it to me. “Please tell me this isn’t a deal-breaker.”

I look at the screen. I catch my breath. “Wait, what?” I search his face and he nods miserably while running a finger under his collar.

In a kitchen with stainless steel appliances, their bellies on an expensive porcelain tile floor, lie two Bernese Mountain Dogs. They are in a down-stay position, tongues lolling, while their eyes are raised lovingly and attentively to gaze upon the camera’s owner.

“These are yours,” I say stupidly.

He nods.

“You have dogs.”

He shrugs.

“You have not one, but two, giant, long-haired, famous-for-shedding dogs.”

He’s actually blushing. “After that summer with you and your mom, the house never felt like a home without one.”

There’s more though, I can tell. “What else?”

He winces and closes his eyes briefly. “I’m actually…kind of a breeder.”

I blink. I press my lips together, not sure if I’m suppressing a smile or a scream.

My whole adult life has been about escaping anything to do with dogs, and now Finn wants to reintroduce them to me, with a vengeance. Am I really going down that road again? Down the route of dog kibble and dog brushes and dog breath? Dog collars, vet visits and—oh, god—the imperative to never leave the house without having those tiny plastic bags on your person. With the size of Finn’s dogs, those plastic bags could easily double for groceries. Or a corpse.

“Liv?” Finn says anxiously.

A snort escapes my mouth, followed by another. Then a gurgle of laughter that forces me to hold my belly, followed by a torrent. I collapse on the bed and flop to my back, consumed with the supreme irony of it all. Every time I think I am done, I get another look at Finn’s face and it begins anew. By the time I am finished, my face is wet with tears and I feel as limp and weightless as if I just had three sequential orgasms.

Finn looms over me on his elbows, a smile lurking in his beautiful dark eyes. “It’s good that you’re laughing, right? Does this mean you’re not going to divorce me?”

“Oh, god,” I say, as I dash my tears away. “I should. I really should. But I won’t.”

Finn brushes back my hair. “You’re the best, Liv. The absolute best.” He kisses me softly. “I’m so glad that’s over with, you have no idea.”

“Oh, I think I do,” I say dryly, as something prods my hip. “Your eel is coming out to play.” Which only sets me off again, because honestly, since when is it not?

He snort-laughs. “How is your clam?”

“Maybe you should check.” I was kidding—sort of—but Finn takes me at my word. And I’m still laughing as he peels off my jeans and underwear. As he rolls over me and into me. As our lips meet and we surge together on my apparently doomed, snow-white bedspread.

Now that we’re back in the States, in a landlocked city, we definitely need a new sexual metaphor. Preferably one with a touch of poetry or class. Or both. But we will find one, I have faith. After a decade of being apart, we have found our way back to one another. We have made our past flow into the present. We share the same last name.

What are silly metaphors when I am married to a smart, generous man who makes me laugh every day?

Best of all, I deserve him. I’m halfway to brilliant myself.

About the Author

Although she knew she wanted to write fiction in grade school, Jan O’Hara left her dreams behind for a time to become a family physician. She provided birth-to-death healthcare to her patients and served as an assistant professor at the University of Alberta, teaching medical students and residents about patient-centered care and human sexuality.

Jan lives in Alberta, Canada with her two children and husband (aka the ToolMaster). She writes a regular column for the popular blog Writer Unboxed. Once obsessed with helping people professionally, she has retired from medicine and now spends her days torturing them on paper. See? Win-win scenarios really do exist.

If you enjoyed this novel, please consider posting a review where you purchased it. And if you’d like to stay in touch, check out the links below.

Website: www.janohara.net

Sign up for her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/cfOQFX

Facebook: http://facebook.com/janoharabooks

Twitter: http://twitter.com/jan_ohara

Email: jan@janohara.net

Praise For Jan O’Hara

“If O’Hara’s next books are anything like this one [Opposite of Frozen], she’s got a long career ahead of her. A sweet, heartfelt series love story.” —Kirkus Reviews

“Smart, funny, and with a cast of quirky characters you’re bound to fall in love with, Jan O’Hara’s debut novel [Opposite of Frozen] is a lively read reminiscent of a classic screwball comedy. You’ll pick it up for the reluctant romance… You’ll keep reading for the intergenerational shenanigans…” —Liz Michalski, author of Evenfall

“What an entertaining, funny, sad, adorable romp Opposite of Frozen turned out to be. Since this is Jan O'Hara's debut book, just sign me up for whatever comes next from her talented mind."  —RomanceIsAgeless.com

Excerpt

From Opposite of Frozen, which also features Mr. Vince Lee:

Oliver had been fighting a sense of looming chaos, and winning, until they pulled the half-frozen girl from the cargo hold.

He’d left the hospital with enough time to load all fifty-one passengers from the retirement village, plus luggage, onto the tour bus in Edmonton. He’d refereed a dispute over the merits of the two Elvises by declaring the King the winner, naturally. When mechanical troubles stranded them on the side of the road for hours, and far from the prebooked luncheon restaurant, he’d sprung for pizzas from the nearest town. He led the retirees in a rousing version of 99 Bottles of Bran on the Wall, reasoning that camp songs were as likely to work for the gray-haired as the young. He hadn’t even broken a sweat when one of the elderly ladies informed him, quite seriously, that he might be young and handsome, but his humor was perverted and condescending.

Then came the moment at the hotel in Harmony, when he was coaxing Mrs. Williams down the first of the bus’s steps.

Ninety-five-year-old Mrs. Horton, one of the more mobile passengers, and therefore among the first to disembark, tapped him on the shoulder with her cane.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” Oliver said, and dug deep for patience.

Mrs. Horton had come at him from his blind side, which always rattled him. And her cane, with its icepick end, came close to scraping his glasses. Besides, why was she here, troubling Oliver, instead of taking full advantage of the rest stop? They had a long drive ahead to reach the hotel in Golden.

“Better hustle your fanny,” Mrs. Horton said. “Bus driver’s got a half-froze gal back there.”

“It’s February,” Mrs. Williams said, and if anything, slowed her descent. “I’m cold. You’re cold. Everybody’s cold.”

Mrs. Horton had begun to hobble away, but at this pronouncement, she paused and rested both hands on the handle of her cane. She fixed Oliver with a baleful eye. The pink, knit flower at the front of her cap quivered with what had to be indignation, since Parkinson’s wouldn’t have the gall to inflict itself upon her.

“Now I’ve done my job on account of I’ve delivered the message. If you want her all the way dead, guess that’s up to you.” She turned away.

It took a moment for the words to compute. When they did, Oliver fastened Mrs. Williams’s hand to the railing, abandoning her on the lowest step of the bus. “Wait here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Unacceptable.” Mrs. Williams sputtered. “I’m in urgent need of the biffy.”

“Young man,” called one of the Hofstadter twins from behind Mrs. Williams.

Was that Mavis or Avis? Oliver hadn’t sorted them out yet.

“Young man, where are you going? We’ve been stuck in this contraption for hours. Now we’re just supposed to stand here?”

A small crowd had gathered near the back end of the bus, where they had stored items requiring rapid access. Oliver pushed through, being careful not to bowl anyone over. All they needed was for someone to break a bone.

He climbed over a sea of discarded walkers and canes to get to the bus driver. Buck lay on his belly, his head and torso inside the cargo hold, giving Oliver an eyeful of uniformed legs and backside.

Oliver dropped to his knees and performed a lousy version of the Marine crawl, so as not to bang his head on the bus’s innards.

In the diesel-scented gloom, a large child—no, woman?—lay curled on her side in a nest of clothing. She wore a child’s unicorn hat. Buck’s meaty hand shook her shoulder in an attempt to rouse her, but only had the effect of stirring her hair as it lay in a curtain across her face.

“Miss? Wake up, miss.” Buck turned towards Oliver. “I don’t know what she’s doing here, Mr. P. I can’t think how she would have gotten in.”

“That’s a conversation for later.” Oliver shucked his gloves. The first priority was to determine whether he should call for the ambulance or coroner.

He pushed her hair back off her face. In the gloom he could see her eyes were closed and she was so pale she almost glowed. In contrast, her lips were a dark blue.

Something tickled at the back of his memory. Could carbon monoxide be responsible? He slid two shaking fingers under the collar of her puffy jacket to skin that was scarily cold. She had a pulse, thank goodness. Weak and slow, but a pulse nonetheless.

“She’s alive,” Oliver said. “Let’s keep her that way.”

It took a few minutes, and before it was over, Oliver banged his head hard enough to feel nauseous, but between the two of them they worked her out of the hold.

As he stood, bracing her in his arms, first her unicorn hat fell off and then a stocking cap, revealing dark hair striped with cobalt blue.

In the fading sunshine, she looked older than he’d thought. Mid-twenties, maybe. Old enough to know better than to sneak aboard an unheated space during a Canadian winter. In his arms, she felt as light as her down-filled jacket.

“Oh, my,” one of the tour group said, pressing in closer. “A stowaway. How exciting.”

“Someone likes stripes.”

“And horns.”

“That’s my unicorn hat,” came from another. “That was in my suitcase for my granddaughter.”

Which explained the nest of clothing. At some point, the stowaway must have rifled through the accessible luggage, looking for ways to stay warm. Why in hell hadn’t she called for help? Oliver closed his eyes. Perhaps she had, at that. Had she lain there, freezing to death in pizza-scented air, while they sang cheeky drinking songs?

The orange-haired Hofstadter twin had found her way off the bus and now muscled her way toward him.

“Let me through, people. I’m a nurse.” Her voice had a volume and pitch calculated to convey authority, and the seniors obediently parted. Upon arrival, she repeated Oliver’s actions searching for a pulse, looking a thousand times more competent than he probably had. She nodded briskly.

They were joined by the blond twin. “Why, it’s the girl from the pharmacy in Edmonton,” she exclaimed. “She helped carry my bags to the bus. I thought she left. She even said goodbye.”

Making it a good five hours she’d spent in the hold. Oliver wanted to groan. He nodded toward the girl’s mouth. “Please tell me that’s lipstick,” he said to the nurse.

She swiped a gloved finger over the stowaway’s face and flashed a grin of triumph. “Yup. Our girl has a Goth sense of fashion.”

As if the nurse’s pronouncement had flipped a switch, the figure in his arms stirred. Her lashes opened, revealing a pair of unfocused eyes the color of wet spring leaves. She began to shudder, as if she’d swallowed an unbalanced washing machine.

Oliver had to shift her to avoid dropping her.

“That’s a good sign, lovey,” the nurse cooed to the stowaway. “You just keep that up. Shivering raises the body temperature.” She trained a laser-like gaze upon the waiting hotel, its sandstone exterior a glowing rose color in the setting sun. “Right. Time to get her warm.” Her voice whipped forth once again. “Make way, people. We have to get her inside.”

“Draft a few stronger men to get the others off the bus,” Oliver said, to an anxious-looking Buck. Then Oliver followed the nurse, conscious of the blond twin trailing behind like a pale shadow.

The nurse cut a brisk path towards the entrance, and activated the assisted doorway. Oliver had an impression of a well-appointed lobby with an old-world feel before the nurse halted at a bank of chairs.

“You.” She addressed a woman who vaguely resembled Betty White, and who wore a dark fur coat with a queen-like air. “Are you familiar with the hotel? I need immediate access to a room with a bed.”

The woman took one look at Oliver and his burden before rising smoothly. “We’ll use my suite.”

A large-eared man wearing a bellhop uniform had been advancing upon them.

“Gill, the elevator,” she called to him.

He headed for the call button.

“Wait,” Oliver said. “Can we use that?”

The bellhop’s gaze followed the direction of Oliver’s, to an empty luggage rack, and then bounced back to Oliver. Oliver saw him take in the group’s absence of luggage, Oliver’s burdened arms, and Oliver’s intent. Gill’s face instantly assumed the bland expression of the professionally polite. “Of course, sir.”

His expression didn’t alter while he helped Oliver sit and pivot, so Oliver could place his back to the rack’s cross bar. They maneuvered the shivering woman until she lay in Oliver’s lap, his arms and legs wrapped around her to keep her extremities safe.

But as they were wheeled onto the elevator, Oliver could see what Gill was thinking—what they were all thinking—and knew the familiar sting of shame.

Look at the biceps on that guy. Look at his tan. Why doesn’t he just carry her instead of acting like a wimp?

The thing was, especially when you had years of baseline fitness behind you, health challenges didn’t necessarily result in a fragile appearance. And in Phoenix, you only had to be breathing to acquire skin color.

The others piled into the elevator.

Only then did Oliver realize the enormity of what they were doing. “Shouldn’t we call 911, or whatever you people have up here?” Oliver said.

The nurse looked over her shoulder, the one visible eyebrow raised. “Shouldn’t you know how to summon help before taking elderly tourists to the Rockies?”

Oliver opened his mouth, but what could he say that was defensible? This isn’t my usual job. I was gang-pressed into helping at the last minute. That was true, but while waiting on Shawn in the hospital, Oliver should have asked the important questions. If he’d gone into a game with such lackadaisical prep, Smithy would have benched him for half the season.

The girl in his arms stirred. “No…” She appeared to be having trouble making her mouth form words. “No, nnnnnno hospital. Nnno doctors.”

With a ding, the elevator announced they had arrived at the top floor. The fur-coated lady led the way, then the twins while the bellman pushed Oliver forward.

He still wasn’t convinced he was doing the right thing.

But the stowaway was getting better, wasn’t she? Oliver could call 911 from the room as easily as the lobby. Besides, she might sound like a drunken monkey, but she’d gone from unconscious to conscious to opinionated in minutes—in no time at all, she’d be acting like a normal female.

The Betty White lookalike stopped in front of a door and swiped a keycard in the lock, standing back to let the nurse in first.

The suite was large and clearly occupied on a long-term basis, with homey touches you wouldn’t otherwise see in a hotel room. One of them—a small white Shih Tzu—yawned from her cushion in a wicker basket. She padded over to greet her owner with a woof.

To the left, a bathroom with a tub was visible past the bedroom area. Oliver struggled to his feet, the woman still in his arms, and headed in that direction.

The nurse’s military-grade voice lashed out. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“To put her in the bath,” Oliver said.

“So you want to kill her then?” She tossed a capacious handbag into an armchair. Both hands set to removing her scarf and bulky coat, which were likewise discarded. At a wordless gesture from her, the blond twin began to follow the nurse’s example.

Oliver froze. “That wasn’t the plan, no.”

“Just checking. Because if you warm up her extremities too quickly, you’ll send all that cold blood straight to her heart and blam!” She clapped her hands with grim satisfaction. “Cardiac arrest.”

Right. Though Oliver never had cause to worry about treating hypothermia in his life, it was starting to come back to him. Along with the usual remedy…

“You’re going to use body heat to revive her?” he asked, in case he was mistaken.

The nurse nodded brusquely.

“Don’t worry.” The blond twin was seated at the edge of the bed, working off a boot. “Mavis might have a ghoulish sense of humor, but she worked up north for years and handled oodles of hypothermia.” She paused thoughtfully. “Why, one time she was the only nurse on duty—not even a doctor around, can you imagine?—when two snowmobiles of teenagers went through the ice on Lesser Slave Lake—”

“He doesn’t care about that,” Mavis said. “He’s too upset about our blue beauty to want to hear my war stories. You,” she said to the fur-coated lady. “Strip back the covers so Oliver can set our girl down. He’s getting tired.”

The woman, who had been murmuring something to the bellman, handed Gill a pink leash and moved to obey. “My name is Mrs. Arbuckle, not You,” she said indignantly.

“Pleased to meet you.” To get out of Mrs. Arbuckle’s way, the blond twin shifted to the armchair and attacked her second boot.

Mrs. Arbuckle pulled back the covers on the king-sized bed to reveal snowy white sheets.

To the stowaway, Mavis cooed, “Poor dear. So cold. At least you’re shivering. If not, we’d have no choice but to send you to the hospital.”

Oliver was dimly aware of the bellman leaving, the dog preceding him at the end of her leash like a small, shaggy mop.

He set the stowaway down and resisted the urge to check his vision. That could wait for another few minutes.

Meanwhile, there was all this surplus clothing to remove. At least the layering proved she wasn’t a total ninny. He removed three pairs of mittens and counted four layers of clothing under her puffy jacket, three of which he doubted belonged to her. Between the colors and styles, they looked like relics of the eighties.

He reached what was likely the bottom level—a long tunic made of sweater fabric in gunmetal gray, with leggings to match.

The blond twin had come closer to watch and now stood in her blouse and panties. She spoke to the stowaway. “I’m not one to criticize another person’s color choices, but do you realize, dear, that you look like a bruise?”

Until now, the stowaway had lain passively as Oliver removed her clothing. But as he reached under the tunic to find her waistband, she stirred and swatted his hands.

“I’ve got this, Oliver,” Mavis said. To Mrs. Arbuckle she said, “If you aren’t getting naked, it’s time to leave.” As if that wasn’t sufficiently presumptuous, she added, “We’ll let you know when we’re done with your room.”

Mavis crossed her arms and seized the lower front edge of her sweater. “Now, unless you want to get an eyeful of something that needs ironing, I suggest you run for the hallway.” She threw back her head and laughed.

Oliver was chased out of the room by the blond’s answering cackle.

Lust Abroad

Whitley Cox

Piper Valentine knows all too well that life is short. Off to Peru to heal after a grievous loss, she finds more than solace in the hot, charismatic travel journalist sitting across from her on the airplane. Derrick King’s had a brush with death, too, but he has no idea that he’ll face it again — and again — after giving in to his instant attraction to Piper. Their journey to the top of the world, filled with parties, humor, and fun, is turned topsy-turvy as they’re pursued by mysterious gunmen.

Determined to reach Machu Picchu and fulfill her promise to her dead husband, Piper finds that having Derrick along makes her feel safer, even as his lust for her endangers her heart. She’s never found another man so sensual, and with danger on their trail, they keep ending up in each other’s arms. Derrick’s a man with needs — and secrets. Will Piper find strength in surrender? And can Derrick find a way to believe in a future — for both of them?

For Elissa and Matt.

Who actually did rescue me from a police station in Miraflores, after we’d been robbed.

Sometimes the best people and truest friends can be discovered in the most trying of times.

I *heart* my Canadian Heroes. Thank you!

Oh, and for Smokey, Beatrice, Jellybean and Molly-

Never on our plates, but always in our hearts.

Prologue

Derrick

As far as airports go, and I’ve been in a lot, this one’s not half bad. I made my way down the advertisement-riddled hallway toward my gate. With time to kill before boarding, I’d be able to sit with my laptop and get some work done. Lord knows I’m not back to one hundred percent yet and really need the extra time that Leon gave me to get this piece to him for the next issue.

Finally finding my gate number, I took up residence next to a column with a plug-in, capitalizing on the last free outlet slot. Despite the fact it was still a couple hours to boarding, the gate was already filling up with passengers, all of us bound for Lima, Peru, and probably at least seventy percent of us heading on to Machu Picchu.

Engrossed in editing the lighting on a photo of a spider monkey I took while in Boquete, I didn’t see the person next to me vacate their seat. But when the intoxicating scent of fresh oranges and hyacinth wafted toward me, and a flurry of bags, a flowy skirt, and blonde locks whirled past my downcast eyes, I couldn’t help but look up. Holy crap!

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, her voice breathy and sweet, while a healthy pink flush ran up her neck and bloomed across her cheeks. She had a camera bag slung over one shoulder, a smallish backpack hung around the other one, and a Boho shoulder bag draped around her neck like a feedbag for a pack mule. Was she running away from home?

She continued to stare at me, but then I guess it was because I was staring at her and had yet to answer. I licked my lips and shook the fuzzies from my brain. “Uh…no…go ahead.”

She nodded and smiled and with a dull thud flung her backpack down to the floor with a sigh. “Thanks.” She pulled the other two bags off and stored them at her feet.

I smiled at her and then let my eyes slowly drift back to my screen, where the spider monkey was glaring at me.

Two hours, I sat there smelling that woman. Two bloody hours. Unable to think of one damned thing to say to her that wouldn’t come across as corny, desperate or mind-numbingly boring. Mariah had said I bored her.

My mind raced while my pulse struggled to keep calm. Her scent was driving me crazy, so sweet yet so subtle, like summer and innocence on sun-kissed skin. Does she taste as good as she smells? And for those two torturous hours, she sat there, quietly, hardly moving, except to tuck her feet under her or nibble on her lip, completely engaged and focused on the book she was reading. I tried my damnedest to catch a glimpse of the title, but she’d folded the cover, a librarian’s worst nightmare. Not a peep. But the way her face reacted as she continued to read, it had me entranced. A coy smile, a snagged lip, a furrowed brow — whatever she was reading was packed full of feelings, and her emotions were running all over the place.

Meanwhile my feelings, my emotions were becoming more linear by the second. I could no longer focus on the baby sloth I was attempting to de-blur for my Manuel Antonio Park article. I couldn’t concentrate on anything. This goddess beside me consumed every thought inside my recently operated-on head. What was her name? Where was she from? What were her plans in Lima? Was she going to Machu Picchu, too? Was she single?

I closed my laptop and pulled out the plug, having finally decided to give my pounding head a break before the flight. She was watching me out of the corner of her eye, and then once I sat back down, she sprung up from her seat and quickly plugged in the charger for her phone. She set up camp on the floor. Her sweet little body on her knees, right at my feet. Holy hell, was she trying to kill me? She brought her book back up in front of her face and began reading again, sensuously drawing that plump bottom lip between her teeth as her eyes drifted across the pages. Her finger slipped on the cover, and I finally managed to catch a glimpse of the title page, Accepting Loss: A step by step guide to dealing with the loss of loved ones. Oh fuuuuck!

Chapter 1

Piper

Sweet, a seat! The gate was already packed, and we still had a few hours to kill before boarding. It was going to be a full flight. Loaded up with practically everything I owned, minus that which I’d already checked with my big backpack at the airline desk, I made my way through the mountain of bags and feet to sit down.

There was a man with a laptop sitting in the next seat. “Is this seat taken?” I asked, not wanting to steal his wife’s or traveling companion’s spot, in case he or she was in the bathroom. He turned to face me. Well, holy hell! The man was hot. Like crazy hot. I’m such a sucker for stubble and dimples. I felt my face get warm and quickly averted my eyes. But then realizing he hadn’t answered me yet, I had to look back and wait for a response. Why was he taking so long to answer me? Oh shit, did he not speak English? I just assumed everyone speaks English, but they don’t. Especially not in this part of the world, anyway.

He smiled, and I nearly swallowed my tongue. “Uh…no…go ahead.”

“Thanks,” I sighed, dropping my backpack and then my camera bag and purse, letting out a big and breathy huff as I flopped my butt into the seat.

I thought for sure he was going to try and chat with me, hoped he would actually. But instead, he let his eyes slowly slide back to the screen and what appeared to be a very lovely photo of a rather angry monkey.

Two frickin’ hours I sat there smelling that man and his intoxicating scent. Two hours! My mind raced as I pretended, for the most part, to read the book in my hand. While my pulse pounded like a monastery gong through my veins, I continuously shifted in my seat, inconspicuously watching him edit photos. Beautiful images of scenery and animals, volcanoes, and beaches. Each one more breathtaking than the last, and while I didn’t think they needed an ounce of editing or touch-up, he was meticulous in his craft, tweaking lighting here and a shadow there. He spent nearly an hour alone on a photo of a stunning spectacled owl.

I hated the book in my hand. My mother had bought it for me after Ray had died. Apparently, a friend of hers had recommended it after her husband had passed, so my mum thought that I would benefit from it as well. You know, because every widow is the same.

It was a piece of damned garbage. Telling me that I would be angry. And that I would blame Ray for his own death. Maybe other women, other people, followed the seven or however many stages of grief, but I didn’t believe I did. I never once felt angry toward him. We both knew the risk of his job and the assignment he was on. If I’m upset about anything, it was that my last words to him had not been, “I love you.” But I could never be angry at my husband for dying out there on that boat. If anything, it’s Mother Nature who I’d like to take to the mat. She’s the one who took him from me too soon, she’s the one who ended my marriage before it’d even really began. I swallowed hard and put my head back down and read the title of the next chapter: Going Forward Without Looking Back.

For the most part, the book was about acceptance and moving on. Giving me a time frame for how long each stage should last, and that by now I should be well on my way to moving on altogether. No longer thinking of him every day. Missing his very smell, his smile, the way his hair felt between my fingers as we sat on the couch in the evenings and I twirled the soft golden strands at the nape of his neck around my finger. The way he used to lightly cup my butt when he’d walk behind me, or pick me up and gently carry me to bed, after I’d fallen asleep at my desk, having studied myself to pure exhaustion in those final months of school. I wasn’t supposed to think about those things every day. Maybe once a week, once a month. But not every day. So, apparently, I was doing it all wrong. I was a crappy widow, a crappy griever because I was taking far longer to get over my dead husband than the book suggested I should.

But I was hardly able to focus on the piece of shit in front of me anyway. I’d catch the odd passage like, “Remove all memories of your loved one from plain sight. Photos, knick -knacks, their favorite items, to reduce the sudden rush of emotions. Purge your space of reminders, and you’ll purge your mind.” Several times I’d wanted to burst out laughing, but I’d catch myself, my lips twisting into a weird grin instead, or a small and unladylike snort would silently rumble through my nose. I still carried a photo of Ray in my wallet. Our wedding photo. And I wore my wedding and engagement rings on a chain that I kept tucked into my shirt. Only I’d left those back home in Victoria because all the guidebooks said if I had anything of value on my person in this part of the world, chances were I’d be robbed in the streets.

So, instead, I watched Mr. Handsome Photographer Man edit adorable baby sloths and cheeky monkeys, while I pretended to read about how awful a grieving widow I was being. I checked my phone briefly and noticed that the battery was getting low, but all the outlets around me were occupied, so instead I turned it off and picked up my book.

What cologne was he wearing? What was that scent? It smelled exotic, like…warm sand and fresh linen, beachy and clean and incredibly inviting…but also manly, very manly. What was his name? Where was he from? What were his plans in Lima? Was he single? Was I ready to start dating? The book said I needed to move on, meet people, find happiness again…which was why I was currently in the Panama airport and on my way to Lima. To do what Ray and I had always planned to do, and that was visit Machu Picchu. This would be our two-year anniversary, a belated honeymoon, seeing as we never got to go on one after we were married. This had been our dream, this had been the plan, and I wasn’t anything if not a planner and a promise-keeper.

He closed his laptop, leaned forward and pulled out the plug, stowing his computer in a canvas shoulder bag. I took the opportunity of the free outlet and leaped up from my seat, falling to my knees at his feet, plugging in my phone. And then realizing that my position on the floor, directly in front of him, gave me a much better view of his face, and after I’d been staring at his profile for two hours, I made myself comfortable. Now I got to see all of him. I pulled my book back up and continued to eye-fuck the bejesus out of Mr. Handsome Photographer Man until we were called to board.

We managed to make it forty-five minutes; we’d taxied, heard the safety spiel and leveled out. Hooded glances and coy smiles passed back and forth between the two of us at the gate as we boarded and then, as we conveniently sat across the aisle from one another. What are the chances? My book was poised in front of me like a perfect pretend distraction, while he fiddled with the television on the headrest of the seat in front of him. Come on, dude, talk to me. Say something…please. He pulled out a book of his own, a ragged and ripped old copy of The Ultimate Traveler: South America, so I buried my own nose back in my book, re-reading the same paragraph about how I shouldn’t be going to places that reminded me of my passed loved one, because it only evoked memories, and memories didn’t allow one to move forward. Bullshit!

“Excuse me.” Yes!

I took my time and turned to face him. “Yes?”

“What are you reading?”

I tried to stow a smile and then showed him the cover

“And that’s funny?” he asked, skepticism in his voice. Oh crap, does he think I’m some nut-job off her meds?

Maybe I am a nut-job who SHOULD be medicated, who knows? According to the book I was doing everything wrong, so maybe I was off my rocker. I could hardly hide my smile this time and nodded blandly. “To me it is.”

“Why?”

I shrugged. Best, to be honest, I guess. “My mother gave me this book. Thinks it’ll help me. It’s a joke. It’s telling me how I should feel. And how I can stop feeling that way.”

He was quiet. He looked lost. Oh crap, was I scaring him?

But I’d jumped down the rabbit hole, and there was no sense stopping halfway through the burrow. I had to come out the other side. I shrugged again. “I’ve got a bit of a fucked-up sense of humor. And according to this piece of shit, I’m grieving all wrong. And I happen to think that’s funny. I should probably toss the book out altogether. But to be honest, I’m getting a laugh out of it, and well…” A sudden thought of Ray had tears stinging the backs of my eyes. “I could use some laughs.”

He swallowed. “Oh, well…as long as it’s helping in some way, I guess.”

My head snapped up, and I smiled at him. This piece of garbage was helping me laugh, helping me smile. Was that was it was supposed to do? Was the advice garbage on purpose? “I hadn’t thought of it that way. Thanks.”

He stretched his arm across the aisle. “I’m Derrick.”

Nice hands! Big and tanned, with a dusting of dark hair on the wrist and knuckles, trimmed short nails and thick calluses. I swallowed at the idea of finally getting to touch him. Holy Jesus, woman, calm yourself! Giddily, I took his hand. “Piper.”

“Nice to meet you, Piper.”

“Nice to meet you, Derrick.”

“So…uh, what are your plans in Lima?”

I closed my book and stowed it in the pocket of the seat in front of me. “I don’t want to spend too much time in Lima. Just use it as a hub to get up to Cusco, Iquitos, Puno, maybe Mancora, if I have the time. What about you?”

He nodded. “Machu Picchu is pretty much the only reason I’m here. It’s on the bucket list. And then I’m going to head to Santiago and fly from there to Easter Island.”

“Ooh, Easter Island, that sounds awesome.”

He nodded again. “Another bucket list item.”

“Cool.” The rattling of the drink cart coming toward us made both of our eyes flash up. I could totally go for some wine.

“So… where uh…where in Lima are you staying?”

I took a sip of my water. “The uh…The Inca Treasure Hostel, in Miraflores. What about you?”

The cart wheeled between us, and I had to wait. I ordered and accepted my wine, pleased and surprised that the Argentinian Malbec they had was actually pretty decent.

“So…” I asked, noticing the beer in front of him.

He popped the tab on his can and looked at me; my whole body was vibrating from the intensity of his stare. He’d stripped me down to nothing but my earrings and my travel wallet with those dark gray eyes of his. He’d slowly relieved me of each scrap of fabric, dragging his knuckles along my skin, feeling it warm and tingle from his touch. And then when I was down to nothing but my panties, which at this point were already sopping wet, he’d shredded those between his big capable hands. Dear lord, the man was handsome. “The Inca Treasure Hostel…in Miraflores,” he said with a wicked grin, as he tipped back his beer.

I took another sip of my wine; suddenly my mouth had become incredibly dry.

“So, did you opt for their free airport shuttle?” I asked, still trying my damnedest to check to see if his left hand had a wedding ring on it or not.

His head bobbed in a nod. “Yeah, may as well, right?”

I smiled. “Exactly.”

He took another sip of his beer, this time with his left hand, and from the looks of things he didn’t have a ring. But then, I chastised myself, that meant very little these days. And he could have just taken it off.

“I guess we’re going to be neighbors, then.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“You uh…you meeting anybody in Lima?”

I shook my head. “No. I’m traveling alone. I’ve got a bit of a bucket list myself that I’m trying to tick off. Just saw the Canal in Panama and went to the San Blas Islands for a week, and now I’m off to Machu Picchu.”

Another sip. Damn how I wished I was that beer can right now. His plump lips sucking and tasting, savoring the flavor. But instead I just continued to drink my wine, rolling it around on my tongue to distract my brain from it’s current dirty thoughts.

“So…um…would you like to grab dinner, maybe?”

My eyes flew to the book in the pocket of the seat in front of me, sudden feelings of betrayal and unease pierced my heart like a javelin. It’d been nearly two years. He’d want me to be happy. It wasn’t a betrayal; it was finding happiness again, right? I swallowed, suddenly wishing that my drink was something far stronger than wine — I really needed tequila.

I chewed on my lip. “Uh…sure…why not?”

Well, damn, if his smile didn’t make me want to drag his ass back to the bathroom so we could join the mile-high club.

We spent the remainder of the flight chatting. Innocuous chit-chat that would generally take place on a first date. Was this our first date? But whether a first date or a Tinder “interview” before a hookup, we talked about all the usual stuff, where we’d traveled in Central America. Our plans for Peru and where we were from.

It turns out, like myself, he was Canadian. Calgary-born and -raised. A farm boy, but also the black sheep of the family, because instead of raising cattle like his daddy had wanted him to, and his brothers had stuck around to do, he went and became a journalist and photographer. Traveling all over the world and documenting his adventures.

Gorgeous, almost too gorgeous, but not quite…maybe just gorgeous enough, yeah, just gorgeous enough. But he was also not my usual type. Sure, most of the guys I’ve dated have been handsome, but all my previous boyfriends, Ray included, had been blond and buff. I think the blond was more by pure coincidence than anything, but that seemed to be my type. Blond, buff and blue-eyed.

But Derrick, he was dark and tapered, not skinny. His build was slighter, muscles honed from hard work, labor — not hours spent at the gym. Silky hair the color of charcoal and eyes as gray as the stormy skies of Tofino in November.

“So…I guess we’ll be taking the same shuttle,” he chuckled as we shuffled our way down through the aisles after the plane had landed. And like docile little lambs, we followed the ram in front of us and unloaded off into the Lima airport and toward customs and immigration.

“I guess so.” I smiled, unable to deny the stirring of something; interest, anticipation, fear…desire? Coming to life in my belly like a kaleidoscope of butterflies, all taking wing at the same time. Would we go out to dinner, and would one of us end up spending the night in the other’s room? Was this how it went? It’d been ages since I’d done the dating thing. I had no idea how it worked anymore. Let alone, the international dating scene. Did you date while you were backpacking, or was it simply an endless stream of orgasm-filled hook ups? Stamp your passport with as many international delights as you possibly could, before returning home to the boring local cuisine? But this guy was local cuisine, so what the heck was going on? I spent the next several minutes in quiet contemplation, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into. I’d agreed to go to dinner with him, nothing more, right? But did I want more? Was I ready for more? Classic overthink.

“You’re up next.” His throaty chuckle and velvet-smooth voice snapped me out of my lust abroad protocol reverie.

I walked up to the immigration desk and answered all the questions like a robot. No, I didn’t have any drugs. Yes, I was here for pleasure. No, I didn’t have any plant-based materials or animal products. No, I didn’t have over ten thousand dollars U.S. on me. The officer stamped my passport, ignored my smile and gracias and told me to move along. I did the same thing through customs, and then before I knew it Derrick was back at my side, and we were marching along at a brisk pace toward the baggage claim.

“What’s your bag look like?” The Ultimate Traveler was back out, his eyes scanning across the page. Meanwhile, an enormous red backpack sat at his feet. How the hell’d he manage to get that so quickly?

I blinked a couple of times. “Uh…it’s blue.”

He looked up at me and snorted. “Anything else distinctive about it? At the moment, I can count eight blue backpacks on that belt.”

I felt my cheeks grow warm as I looked up into his beautiful eyes, while lashes a camel would be jealous of fluttered back at me. That gorgeous smile was back too and causing me to struggle with my words. Suddenly I spotted my bag and, without saying anything, lunged for it. But, of course, because life, in general, has a twisted sense of humor, no one moved over enough for me to get in and grab it, so I only managed to grab a dangling strap. But when I got hold of the strap and pulled, the stupid bag wouldn’t budge. It was stuck!

I don’t know why I didn’t just let go and wait for the bag to come back around. That would have been the wise decision, the smart decision. But I didn’t let go and was instead hauled through the row of people standing with their knees knocking the carousel, and up on to the belt, landing with a painful oof on top of an oddly-shaped cardboard parcel.

“What the heck are you doing?” Derrick called, having swung his monstrous bag up onto his back and even now elbowing his way through the endless sea of mindless, bag-waiting drones, following me as I went around on the belt.

“What the hell does it look like?” I snapped, clambering up off the parcel, a flurry of skirts and hair, getting right down next to my bag to try to uncover where it was stuck. I felt around underneath, and sure enough, the thicker end of the strap was caught on a snagged piece of exposed metal on the belt.

“Senora!” The thick Spanish accent of what I could only assume to be airport security interrupted my frustrated grunts. And then a slew of too-fast-to-comprehend Spanish came flying at me. I didn’t bother to look up but just continued to try and free my bag. I could see their military-type uniforms out of the corner of my eye. Their voices were getting stronger and their tone less forgiving and more “we’re going to throw your white ass in jail unless you get the fuck off the belt NOW!”

“Ah ha!” I cheered, falling back on my butt from the force of having finally freed my bag strap. Big tanned hands came up and under my arms, and suddenly I and my bag were being hoisted into the air and then tossed onto the floor. When I finally looked up, two very unhappy Peruvian men, who looked like they’d just stepped out of the rainforest after setting up landmines and fighting guerrilla forces, glared back at me, more Spanish vitriol flying from their lips.

Suddenly Derrick was at my side, and in poor, butchered Spanish that I’m sure made both camo-clad men cringe, he managed to subdue them. Within a minute, they were both nodding, eyeing me up with vague interest and, if I wasn’t mistaken (because at this point in my life, I knew the look well), pity. And then they finally smiled at me, nodded, and were on their way.

I gaped at my hero. The hero who, not five minutes ago, I was mentally calling a “stamp” on my orgasmic passport. “What the hell did you just say to them?”

He helped me put my backpack on, and with a warm, firm hand on my elbow, he led me toward the front door. “I told them that you’re a psych patient who was just released from the mental hospital after a nervous breakdown. Your one and only wish was to see Machu Picchu, and you thought your dead grandmother was inside your backpack. I told them I’m your caregiver and I needed to get you to the hotel quickly so you could take your anti-psychotic meds.”

The humidity and heat of the city hit me like a grimy slap to the face when we burst through the airport doors. But that didn’t stop me from tossing on the brakes, jerking my elbow from his grasp and rounding on him. “You said what?” Not entirely sure what emotion I was feeling at the moment.

God, that smile. “Nothing. But I had you going for a second.” His chuckle was diabolical, while that devious grin sent a zing of need straight to my lady parts. “I told them you’re bringing your deceased grandmother’s ashes, which are in your backpack, to Machu Picchu. Because it was her life’s dream to climb it, but she was never able to make it before she passed. Not quite as entertaining as you being a psych patient. I kind of wish I’d gone with that one now. I said you started to panic about the ashes and you got pulled onto the carousel. Which was true. Your book gave me the idea.”

Holy shit, that was more accurate than he knew…only they weren’t my grandmother’s ashes.

As hard as I tried to fight it, I couldn’t help but smile. Quick thinker, and funny. He just kept ticking all kinds of boxes. “Well…” I punched him in the shoulder. “Thanks…I guess.”

He pointed to a man with a sign that had both of our names scrawled on it, and we started to walk toward him. “You can buy me dinner as thanks.” And then, as if we hadn’t just met three and a half hours ago, on the airplane, he grabbed my hand and pulled me toward our driver.

Chapter 2

It was about a thirty-five-minute drive from the airport to our hostel, and Derrick spent the entire time reading out facts and pointing out random landmarks, as dictated and described by The Ultimate Traveler. I was quickly realizing, aside from being drop-dead gorgeous, funny and clever, he was also kind of nerdy — another ticked box; I seriously loved me some nerds.

Ray had been my first real nerd, buff on the outside but brilliant on the inside. I always felt challenged by him. Our conversations were stimulating and interesting. Not a day went by where I didn’t learn something from him, and I loved that. Being the first person in my family to graduate from university, I valued education, whether it be formal or simply sitting on the couch and hearing about the amazing discoveries and things he did in the lab each day. I always felt like I’d bettered myself and enhanced my intelligence somehow just talking to my husband. And I got that same vibe from Derrick, that this man could teach me things. I knew I’d never be bored or left feeling unchallenged or unstimulated. Tick, tick, tick in the boxes.

“Did you know,” Derrick started…again, “that Miraflores is a district of the Lima Province in Peru? It’s known for being safer than other districts, and for its exclusive residential houses and upscale shopping district. Apparently, as a city in itself, Lima isn’t overly special, but Miraflores is where most tourists come and stay.” He looked up from his book and grinned at me. “So, we’re headed in the right direction.”

I smiled back, my eyes drifting back out the window of the van, watching an entirely new world zoom by. A short while later, and after several interesting facts about Lima and Miraflores from my sexy new travel buddy, hostel neighbor and walking, talking Wikipedia article, we pulled up to a wrought-iron gate with spikes on top and barbed wire hugging the spikes. Looming above was a five-story banana-yellow building made of stucco and brick with barred windows and more spikes and barbed wire around the balconies. Was this a hostel or a prison?

Our shuttle driver helped us unload and then buzzed the front door. It clicked open a second later, and we were ushered inside. The lobby and entranceway weren’t overly memorable or inviting — a small desk, a couple of old couches, some stands and racks of pamphlets for tours. Nothing out of the ordinary, but also nothing exciting. At least the last place I’d stayed, in Panama, had a pinball machine in the front entrance, and the place before that had a bird cage with a talking parrot that said “Welcome” in fifteen different languages.

I handed over my passport. The woman behind the desk scanned it, then she brought out a big reservation book and started trailing her finger down the pages to find my booking. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Really? This was the twenty-first century; I booked it online. Surely, they had some online record. And her computer was right in front of her…something was starting to smell a little fishy.

Suddenly her head popped up, and she bit her lip, her eyes flying back and forth between me and the reservation book. “I…I’m very sorry, Ms. Valentine.” Her lip trembled. “We…we no longer have your room.”

I gaped at her. “Then how did you know to pick me up from the airport?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. B-but, your room is now occupied. We are full.”

I blinked at her, not quite sure what to do next. “I booked this three days ago. I have my confirmation receipt… See?” I opened up my travel file folder, went to the tab marked “accommodation” and thrust it into her hands. My OCD for organization and my law-student meticulous attention to detail were coming out in droves. She took it from me and studied it, her eyes flying too quickly across the page to truly be paying attention to anything.

She shook her head. “I—I’m sorry. We can give you your deposit back if you’d like to store your bag here while you go and find somewhere else to stay.” That was a weird thing to offer; why wouldn’t I take my bag with me? Maybe it was a cultural thing, or something was getting lost in translation.

I blew my bangs off my forehead and rolled my eyes. “Yeah…sure…I guess.”

“What about my room? Could we share?” Derrick asked, tucking his Ultimate Traveler under his arm and stepping forward, flashing a dashing grin at the shaking little Peruvian woman. He’d been quietly watching the entire exchange while standing just a couple of steps behind me. She’d already checked him in and confirmed his reservation. Lucky duck.

I shot him a dubious look. “Share?”

“Well, do I have twin beds? Could we share?”

The little Peruvian woman, whose name tag said “Gladys,” perked up. “Si, si…yes…yes, you can share. You can share.” And then she grabbed a key from the panel of hooks and keys behind her and practically threw it at him.

My mouth just hung open. “Uh…”

“This way.” And before I even knew what was going on, we were following her up four flights of stairs, sweat trickling between my breasts and misting my brow by the time we made it to a door marked “4.”

Oh crap!

I’m not superstitious or anything, but my best friend, Emily, is Chinese, and her family is very superstitious, and according to them, the number four is bad. Very, very bad. I don’t know why it’s bad, but it is. Hotels and apartments in some parts of Asia don’t even have a fourth floor; it’s that bad. An ominous shiver ran through me despite the heat in the building and in my body from just hiking half the Andes up to the room. But I pushed the bad thoughts about the number four out of my head and waited for Derrick to open his door with the key. That was a bad number in Asia; we were in South America, so it didn’t count, right?

“Yes, you share.” The front desk woman grinned, believing that the problem had been solved. That it was no biggie for two total strangers to share a room.

The door swung open, and there it was. A giant king-size bed. Staring at us, taunting us.

“You uh…you can take the bed if you’d like,” Derrick murmured, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Ever since Gladys, from the front desk, had taken her leave of us, we hadn’t made eye contact. We’d just stood there, at the foot of the bed, taking in the lush red duvet with gold embroidery and matching pillow cases. The whole thing screamed: “Come have sex on me.”

“I can sleep on the floor.” He was unable to meet my eyes.

I didn’t say anything. I just swallowed. And my eyes fell to the bathroom door, and I suddenly longed for a shower. The water at my last hostel had stopped running two days ago, so I’d been bathing with baby wipes. I needed to wash my hair and shave my pits.

“I, um…do you mind if I have a shower?” I asked, the red from the bed drawing my gaze like a waving flag before a bull.

His head snapped up, gray eyes dancing. “No, no of course not. Go right ahead.”

Nodding, but not saying anything, because the enormous bed in the middle of the room was saying enough for the both of us, I yarded my bag over to a corner and started rooting around inside looking for clothes and toiletries.

Naked as a jay bird and ready to get clean, I stepped into the shower and turned on the water, loving the feeling of the warm spray as it cleansed my body of the hot tropical grime. I was rinsing my hair when squeaks and groans from the faucet and pipes made me squint through the soapy bubbles, and all of a sudden, like a bullet from a gun, the on/off handle burst from the wall and smacked me in the leg. Then the spray nozzle squealed and shot from the wall as well. Before I knew it, water was everywhere, all over the bathroom — because of course, the bathroom had to be open concept with just a shower, no doors or curtains — nothing. The room was soaked in seconds, the toilet, the sink, the floors, the mirror. It was as if the skies had opened up and the roof had flown off.

I hadn’t even realized it, but I’d been screaming. Fumbling around and stupidly trying to put the handle back on, or force the water down the drain with my hands… for a lawyer, logic in the face of chaos had escaped me.

Incessant knocking at the door had me slipping in the tub, grappling at nothing because there wasn’t anything, no handles, nothing to grab onto, and winding up on my ass, legs spread.

“Everything okay?” Panic and curiosity battling it out for top dog in his tone.

“Don’t come in here!” I called, blinded by the spray while my hands slipped and slid on the tiles as I tried to gain enough momentum to push myself up.

“What’s wrong?”

I grunted, my eyes flying to the door and its jiggling knob. “Don’t come in here!”

The door started to open. “I’m not looking. I swear,” he said, coming around the corner his hand over his eye. “Are you okay? I heard pipes bursting and lots of spraying water.” He tilted his head down. “And I uh… I see LOTS of water”.

I was stuck. I whimpered. “The handle and nozzle exploded, and I fell.”

“D-do you need help?”

I let out a sigh. “Yes. But you’re going to have to look to see what you’re doing.”

“I can try to cover my eyes.”

“Move your hand, Derrick!”

His hand slid down over his face, and his eyes took in my compromised and incredibly embarrassing state. Naked, wet and spread eagle on the tiled bathroom floor, while the water poured down on me like a rainforest afternoon monsoon. The whole room had become enveloped in a thick and steamy fog, while the floor began to resemble a public pool.

A quick flash to my breasts and crotch, because he’s a man and, well, of course, and then he sloshed his way through the water, and his hands were under my arms, hoisting me up.

“Here.” He righted me on my feet, his shirt and jeans getting soaked in the process, while droplets beaded on his lashes like dew on a leaf. I stumbled against him as I tripped over the ledge of the shower, falling into his arms, against his hard chest. “Whoa.”

“Sorry,” I murmured, finding my arms up around his neck, holding on for dear life.

Our eyes locked. “It’s okay. You, uh…you need a towel.”

I bit my lip. “I…I think they’re all wet.”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, realizing that my breasts were mashed against his chest, my leg wedged between his. “Wet.”

I shook my head and blinked, breaking the spell. “We need to stop the water.”

His eyes refocused. “Right!” And he gently let me go and stepped over the ledge and into the shower. Squeaks and groans from the pipes and some manly grunts, and suddenly the clouds parted, and the thunderstorm was over.

He looked back over his shoulder at me, drenched from head to toe, glistening wet like a golden Adonis. His white linen shirt clung to his body while his jeans hugged him like a second skin. “We might have to move hostels,” he sighed.

I nodded and bit my lip. “Yeah.”

He looked down at his body and slowly started to peel away the wet layers. I swallowed as he unbuttoned his shirt, and his abs, chiseled and glowing, revealed themselves. Pecs and arms, a sexy as hell back. Holy mother of God. And then the jeans. What on earth was his angle here?

He kicked out of them, and then there he stood, in nothing but black boxer briefs, looking like something Michelangelo had manifested in an attempt to improve on The David. And there I was, still naked. He looked at me, his pupils dilating as he raked my body with his gaze, lingering on my breasts. My nipples pearled in arousal from the intensity of his stare. I couldn’t help myself, and I continued to study him with open fascination, watching as a telltale bulge began to grow in the front of his shorts.

“I, uh…” I licked my lips, while my eyes refused to travel back to his face.

“Piper?"

“Derrick?” I swallowed again. Finally, my eyes fell back on his face. His nostrils flared like a lion that had just caught the scent of an impala, while the look he gave me was pure, unadulterated need, craving.

And then, we were on each other. Mouths crashing, while hands flew into hair, and my breasts mashed even harder against his tight chest. I leaped up onto his hips, and he ploughed us over to the counter, resting my butt on the cold, wet tile, while his teeth nipped my lips and his hands came down to caress and knead my breasts. I was breathless, struck dumb with how badly I wanted this, how badly I needed this. I needed to feel alive, and, holy hell, did Derrick make me feel alive.

I clung to him, scratching at his back, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck, and pulled him against me. His tongue wedged its way into my mouth, challenging mine to a duel, twirling and swirling around one another in a velvety acrobatic dance while our lips and teeth got in the way but also made it so much better. I mewled as his teeth found my neck, licking up the sensitive tendon, while one of his hands traveled down between us and into my folds, finding me wet, hot and needy.

He pulled away for just a second, his eyes glassy and lips swollen. He looked adorable. “Piper…”

I fluttered my eyelashes, having already started shamelessly bucking into his fingers. “What?”

“I…I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

I shook my head. “You’re not. Trust me.” Please don’t ask me about my dead husband. I want an orgasm more than I want to breathe right now, and dead husbands are a serious mood killer.

But that seemed to be enough for him, and he nodded. “Condom…in my bag.”

I sighed. Thank God, because I didn’t have any with me. I certainly hadn’t ruled sex out on this trip, but it hadn’t been paramount on my agenda either.

And removing his hand from my clit, where he had been rubbing little erotic circles, he scooped me back up by the butt and carried me through the bathroom and into our room, tossing me on the bed.

Within twelve seconds he had located the condoms in his bag and was on top of me.

“You’re sure?” he asked again, a lock of his sexy dark hair falling carelessly across his forehead. Oh, my God, he was gorgeous.

I nodded and wrapped my legs around his pelvis, pushing up into him. “Very sure.”

His grin stole my breath. “Well, in that case.” He quickly sat up on his knees, pulled off his boxer briefs, oh mama! And rolled on the rubber.

I licked my bottom lip again and swallowed. The sight of a man touching himself, right before he touched me, was a weakness of mine. So primal, so hedonistic. He covered me again, his biceps and delts flexing next to my shoulders as he hovered above me, carrying all of his weight. I ached to have him inside me, ached to feel the touch of a man again, to be consumed and filled again. It’d been too long.

Our eyes locked, and I thought for sure he was going to rear up and slam home, but instead he dipped his head and brushed his lips against mine. Sweet and light and not at all what I wanted. I needed hard and fast. It’d been too long for my dry spell to be quelled with gentle and kind. I needed nasty. I needed dirty.

I jerked my head up and nipped his chin, laughing low in my chest at his startled gasp. But then he picked up on my vibe and nipped back. His teeth began grazing down my jaw and neck and shoulder, moving over to my nipple. He took the hard, crimson bud greedily into his mouth and sucked, pulling with his teeth and flicking with his tongue. I arched into him.

“More,” I hummed, letting my head tilt back into the pillows and my eyes close. “More.”

He smiled against my chest, and then moved over to the other nipple, delivering the same exquisite torture as before, pulling just enough to garner a feline mewl from my parted lips.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he said with a snarl, lifting his head to look me in the eye again, our hips churning against one another, both of us desperate for the same thing. For the connection.

“Fuck me! Fuck me hard and fast…please.”

Gray eyes flared back at me, and he lifted his hips, set his face into a determined scowl and finally, finally, drove home, sheathing himself to the hilt in one solid thrust. I let out an involuntary grunt from the impact. He was big. Not monster big, but it’d been a while since I’d been with any man at all, and this man was well-endowed to boot.

“You okay?” His pelvis paused mid-thrust. Meanwhile, all I wanted was for him to pick up the speed and hammer me into the mattress until I was putty.

I nodded and bucked up into him. “Yeah…it’s just…it’s been a while. Don’t stop…please don’t stop.”

That smile. And then he did as he was told and went to task. I ground myself against him, frantic for more friction, to feel that sweet little brush of his pelvic bone against my clit, the intermittent rubbing and teasing, lulling my whole body and every nerve ending into eager submission until all I felt was good. With each dirty thrust, he split me open wider, his body claiming mine, dominating mine, possessing mine.

Within moments I was already close, my pussy trembling with every pull and gripping him with every push. I let my hands travel down his back and ribs, exploring his body, his smooth skin, toned muscles, faint scars. I couldn’t help myself, and I let my fingers fall to his clenching butt. The taut muscle flexed and tightened with every measured thrust. I dug my nails in, and he hissed and then chuckled low and menacing against my shoulder.

“Naughty girl… you’ll pay for that.”

My eyes flashed wide. Would I really? Yes, please.

He chomped down hard on my nipple in revenge, so I dug my fingers in more. He bit down again, this time nearly piercing the skin, all the while the thrusting, the hammering, the plundering never stopped. The man was a machine. Gone was the nerd spewing out facts like an encyclopedia. All that was left was a beast, a savage sex beast ravishing my body until I could no longer think about anything but how good he felt inside me.

He chuckled low and then picked up speed, while his hand came around behind me and reached for mine, lacing our fingers together. He brought them above my head, and then did the same with the other hand, pinning me beneath him, holding onto me for dear life.

I writhed against him, arched my back and then let go. That sweet and rhythmic brush of his pelvic bone against my clit was what did it, what pushed me over the edge into decadent oblivion.

Bright lights flashed behind my closed lids, while his teeth found my shoulder, stifling the groans of his own release. I clenched around him, tight and hot and eager for more of him, for all of him as he pulsed inside of me.

We lay there for a few moments, sweaty and panting, letting our brains find some semblance of equanimity again before we separated and faced reality.

Despite the weight of him on me, pressing my pliant and satiated body into the bed, I felt lighter and more at ease than I had in nearly two years. My head was clear, and finally, my heart felt open again.

Chapter 3

“What do you think?” I asked as we stood in line at the bank ATM. Neither of us had very many Peruvian Sols, so we both had to pull out some cash. “Do you think they’re going to get the bathroom fixed tonight? Or should we just cut our losses and go try to find somewhere else to stay?”

He lifted one shoulder, having not bothered to do up all the buttons on his baby blue linen shirt. His chest was exposed, and I found it sexy as hell. “We’ll see what they say when we get back in an hour or so, and if they’re not overly confident, or make us go and use one of the communal bathrooms, then we’ll leave. But I’m starving, so let’s find a grocery store and grab some food.”

I grinned up at him, and then took another leap, one of my many leaps for the day, and linked my fingers with his. He smiled down at me, pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. I untangled our hands and wrapped my arm around his waist. What the heck was going on? I’d just met this man, yet I’d already had sex with him, and we were already acting like boyfriend and girlfriend. It was so weird, and yet it felt good.

He let me go first, and I went and pulled out three hundred dollars’ worth of Sols, preferring to take out larger sums of money and just split it up between my bags and on my person, rather than do multiple small transactions. The international banking fees and currency exchange were atrocious, so the less often I had to pay the charges, the better. I still had four hundred U.S. stashed back in my backpack inside the locked valuables cabinet in our room, but that was emergency money in case I lost my debit or credit card, and I wouldn’t touch it unless I absolutely had to.

I waited for Derrick to do the same, and then he grabbed my hand again, and the two of us took off back outside, wandering around beautiful, modern, clean Miraflores.

“Stop here.” His voice was commanding as he let go of my hand and took a step back, reaching into his shoulder bag and bringing out his camera.

“Why?”

He quirked an eyebrow at me. Was the man not accustomed to being questioned? A wry smile tugged at his lips. “Because this view is beautiful, and it’s even more beautiful with you in front of it. Smile.”

We’d managed to find ourselves down along the water. Throngs of locals and tourists alike lined the path that ran along the edge of a giant cliff. Surfers and paragliders dotted the glittering water against the pale blue sky and children ran around half-naked on the sand down below. It was a stunning setting, welcoming and relaxing, and for the first time in my trip, I was happy I had someone to share the moment with. I had been content traveling alone this far, knowing that the only person I should have been experiencing it all with was no longer here and feeling that if I couldn’t share it with him, I shouldn’t share it with anyone.

I wasn’t paying attention to Derrick, but he was busy snapping photos, some of me, some of the brick-colored statues in the giant circular courtyard where we’d stopped, some of children and families playing and chatting. The sun was hot; the breeze was mighty, and when a sudden gust picked up the end of my dress and my hair, sending it into a maelstrom around me, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

I turned back to face him, and his nose was back in the book.

“It says here, the Miraflores central plaza has flea markets and art exhibitions. Those could be cool.”

I nodded, stopping next to a small bronze plaque and reading it. We were on the Costa Verde (green coast), and it was positively breathtaking. I inhaled the freshness of the sea air and let my shoulders relax. Even if this was just a one-time, or maybe two-times (hopefully) fling, it was freeing, and I felt the heavy weight that had been stacked on my shoulders since Ray’s death finally start to slide off. I’d always love him, always mourn him and think of him, and even though the book my mother had given me was loaded with complete bullshit, it was right about one thing, I needed to heal and move on. Ray would want me to be happy.

“Piper?”

I shook my head, joining reality once again.

Derrick stared at me. He cocked his head like a curious but menacingly sexy puppy. “You okay?”

I nodded and brushed my hair from my eyes. “Just peachy. You got all the photos you wanted to take?”

“Come on.” There it was again, that authoritative tone. But just like before, there was a hint of a smile in his voice and a sparkle of amusement in his eyes. He stowed his camera and reached for my hand again, pulling me close and planting another affectionate kiss on my forehead. “Let’s go buy some food, head back and see how our bathroom is doing and whether it’s still a pool or not.”

I beamed up at him. “Okay.”

“I’m going to run up and check on our room; you want to put the food in the communal fridge?” he asked as we made our way back through the hostel doors, saying a quick hello to Gladys at the front and accepting our key back from her.

They had a weird policy where we relinquished our room key to the front desk before we left, and then they’d give it back to us when we returned. I understood why, so that we didn’t lose it out in the city, but it’d still sent a giant ice pick down my spine when I’d had to turn the key over. I felt like I was handing over my privacy. But then again, the maintenance guy was going to be going in and out of there, so I had to suck it up and secure all my valuables in the small lockable chest inside the room.

Derrick took off upstairs, making the four-story climb, while I wiped my wrist across my brow, nodded shyly at the two guys playing pool in the lounge room and opened the fridge. We hadn’t bought much — some apples and oranges, a small block of cheese and some bread, and a container of yogurt.

The hostel advertised a free breakfast, but after having traveled through Central America, staying only in hostels, the term “complimentary breakfast” was really open to interpretation by each hostel. Some places put out big spreads with toast and eggs, sausages and pancakes, whereas others gave each person a child-size box of Frosted Flakes, a cafeteria-size carton of milk, and a couple of slices of pineapple. I wasn’t nearly as big as Derrick, but even I needed a bigger meal than that to get me through to lunch.

“Piper!” He came back down the stairs in a red-faced panic. “It’s gone!”

I shut the fridge. “What’s gone?”

“Everything! It’s all gone. We’ve been robbed. Everything, your camera, my laptop, all my money, your money, my passport. Everything that we’d put in the cabinet. They busted off the lock.”

If I hadn’t already experienced extreme devastation in my short adult life, I would have thought I was having a heart attack. The whole world became very fuzzy, color dulled, all the sound in the place quickly morphed into a harsh and unidentifiable buzzing sound, and my entire body began to shake.

I took the stairs two—sometimes three—at a time and was in our room in seconds. The place looked like it had been ransacked. Clothes everywhere. The entire contents of our backpacks strewn about, my toiletries bag opened and dumped all over the bed, while my bras and underwear, clean and dirty, lay in a heap on the floor. The combination lock I’d used on the cabinet had been cut with a bolt cutter and hung off the loop like a defeated soldier.

With a small shred of hope, I fell to my knees and peered beneath the bed. Maybe something of value had fallen and rolled underneath. Derrick was behind me in the doorway, along with Gladys, who just stood there with a stupid and surprised look on her face.

I rounded on her. “You did this!”

She shook her head vehemently. “No, Senora, no not me.”

“You had our key. You let maintenance into our room. It had to have been them. Where are they now?”

She shook her head again, pure fear on her face. I probably looked like I was going to kill her. “Gone, Miss. They gone.”

Derrick had started packing. “We need to leave.”

“No fuck!” I snapped, but instead of packing I took off back downstairs. Gladys followed me. “You need to call the police.”

“N-no…no policia,” she stammered.

“Why?”

“N-no policia.” All of a sudden, the woman had lost her grasp of the English language. How convenient.

I grabbed her by the lapel of her peach blouse. “Fucking call the police.” And then without looking back, I took off out of the hostel and started running. Within two minutes I was bursting through the doors of the police station. I doubled over and put my hands on my thighs, my chest heaving from having sprinted the entire way, while warm tears stung the corner of my eyes. A hand fell on my back, and shiny black dress shoes came into view.

“Senora?”

“Help!” Was all I could say. Tasting vomit at the back of my throat and doing everything I could to push it back down. “Help.”

Somehow, I’m not quite sure how, given that I knew all of twenty words in Spanish, and ten of those were numbers, but I managed to get the gist of my point across to the seven police officers whose attention I managed to attract. In another five minutes three of them, all dressed in tan pants and navy shirts, were accompanying me back down the road to the hostel.

We burst through the door, and Gladys’ face fell the moment she saw them. Her eyes went wide while I just gave her a smug smile. Fuck you, bitch. If you’re not going to call the cops, I’ll get them myself.

She started prattling to them in Spanish, wringing her hands together in worry, while the older and more authoritative-looking officer whipped out a pencil and a pad of paper and began furiously scribbling notes. I just stood there glaring at her.

“No, no.” Gladys kept saying, shaking her head while her eyes flew to mine, pleading with me. For what? Compassion? Help? Ha! Fat chance of that, sister.

She led them upstairs, and I followed, where we ran into Derrick. He was just finishing up packing both of our bags and was getting ready to sling both his bag and mine on to his body to head downstairs. But the man was going to trip and fall to his death if he did. I took my backpack from him, waiting for him to pass me my camera bag, but a sob caught in my throat at the realization that I no longer had a camera bag. I no longer had a camera. What else did I no longer have?

“Piper, we’re leaving. Let’s go.”

“No!” I threw my hands on my hips. “I went and got the police. They can help.”

He shook his head and reached for my elbow to turn me around. “No, they can’t. The police here are corrupt. They won’t help. They came because you’re white and a woman. They followed you, not your problem. They don’t care. Let’s go.”

I dug in my heels. “No. They might be able to find the maintenance guys.”

He rolled his eyes in impatience. “Even if they do, we’re not going to get our stuff back. We’re white. To them, we are millionaires, even if we’re not. They think that what they took is just a drop in the bucket to us. The maintenance guys don’t care. Gladys doesn’t care, and the police don’t care. We need to get out of here before they decide to hold us and demand a bribe for us to leave.”

I gawked at him. What the hell was he talking about?

He swallowed and pulled me to a corner, his eyes quickly flying to the two police officers who were “investigating” the crime scene. The more I watched them, the more I realized they were just acting. Boredom paraded across both their faces while their eyes kept drifting back to me and my chest.

When I’d given a quick account at the police station of what had been taken, all the cops had gone walleyed, practically licking their lips at the sound of such wealth. But I wasn’t rich. The camera had been a graduation present from my parents, and all the other things they’d taken — my underwater camera, my phone, my makeup, my credit cards, my money — they only really added up to a little over a thousand dollars. And I’d cancel my credit cards immediately. But Derrick, they’d taken his laptop, his money, his passport. How was he not more furious?

“We need to be very careful here. We’ll go to the embassy tomorrow. But we can’t make a scene. Any opportunity to demand a bribe, and they’ll take it. We need to get out of here before the police get any ideas and don’t let us leave.” He grabbed me by the bicep and began to usher me down the stairs.

We walked aimlessly down the road, loaded down with backpacks and bags, no idea where we were headed but desperate to get away as fast as we could. Derrick’s grip on my arm was still tight, as though he was worried I might run back there and start kicking ass and taking names. Because, Lord knows, I wanted to.

We came to a building marked “Tourist Police,” and he ushered me inside.

“We’d like to report a robbery, please,” he said to the military attire-clad man behind the desk. The guy looked no older than eighteen, while a patchy scruff speckled his jaw and upper lip, making him look like he’d washed his face with coffee grounds and hadn’t quite wiped it all off.

We sat there for nearly two hours waiting to give our statement, and even then, all we’d done was sit at a computer and report the incident. The tourist police officer we’d been issued spoke about as much English as I knew Spanish. What kind of tourist officer doesn’t speak English?

“So…now what?” I asked, passing the keyboard to Derrick so he could type up a list of everything he’d lost.

The officer just shrugged, her bun so tight on the back of her head that it pulled at the corner of her eyes and made her whole face look stretched. “Nothing,” she said blandly. Once again, I was met with boredom.

“Nothing?”

“She’s useless,” came a voice from behind us. A guy and girl around our age or perhaps a tad younger were sitting in chairs next to the door. “She doesn’t care about you or your problem.”

His friend, a pretty blonde with a lace crop top and high-waisted shorts, nodded. “We’ve been here three hours, and it’s just to report a lost passport. They literally don’t care.”

I shook my head, a nauseating wave of fatigue swamping me like a sudden tsunami. “Then what’s the point of all of this? Why do they even exist?”

They both shrugged. “No clue,” he said. “But the embassy told us to come here before we went back to them to get issued a new passport. Where are you guys from?”

“Victoria in British Columbia…Canada.” I smiled, suddenly wishing I was back home and away from this godforsaken place.

“Calgary,” Derrick muttered. He’d been rather surly since we’d left the hostel, mostly quiet, but grunting orders at me when he had to talk. For the most part, I’d just kept my mouth shut and did as he said.

“Hey, cool! We’re from Vancouver.” The girl grinned. “Though I grew up in Victoria. Matt’s kind of lived all over.”

“I was born just outside of Calgary though,” he said with a nod.

She rolled her eyes and got up and extended her hand. “I’m Elissa, and this is Matt.”

I took her hand, the immediate relief of finding more of Canada, more of home, my people, my kin, filling my heart and easing the pain of the day just a little.

“Piper.” I smiled. “And this is Derrick.”

“So,” Elissa started with a grin, encouraging me to come and sit next to her, while Matt was finally called up to the counter and Derrick continued to fuss around on the computer. “What happened?”

After I spilled my guts and caught Elissa up to speed, she just sat there, eyes wide and mouth open. And then, in true Canadian fashion, she hugged me. It didn’t matter that I’d met this woman less than ten minutes ago; we were friends. Just like that. Such was the life of a backpacker.

“Well, we’re staying in a dorm room at our hostel, but there is an empty bunk bed. You guys are welcome to follow us back and stay there.”

I swallowed, suddenly loving the idea of being surrounded by more people from home. I’d traveled abroad to experience other cultures and meet people from all over the world, but all I wanted to do right now was go home. But because I couldn’t just hop on the next plane bound for Vancouver International, being in a room chock-full of fellow Canadians was probably the next best thing.

A scowl-faced Derrick came and joined me on the chairs. “Let’s go. We need to find a new hostel.”

I nodded. “Yeah…uh. Elissa invited us to join them back at their hostel. They have a spare bunk bed in their room.”

He nodded. “Sure, whatever.” Matt joined us, and then the four of us hailed a cab.

We loaded our backpacks into the trunk, and then everybody piled in. My eyes went wide at the sight of the bulletproof Plexiglass bubble the cab driver had encased himself in. What fresh hell had I just flown into? A country where their cabbies didn’t feel safe unless they drove around town like a beta-fish.

“I know, eh? Freaky. Doesn’t exactly make you feel safe.” Matt snorted, turning around from the front passenger seat and taking in my shocked eyes. “They’re all like this. Armed robbery is huge here. And because cabbies deal so much in cash and carry it all on them, they’re big targets.”

I shook my head. “That’s insane.”

“We’re here!” Elissa cheered, bailing out and knocking on the trunk so that the cab driver could open it from the inside. He popped it, and she and Matt helped us with our backpacks.

“It’s a party hostel,” she warned as we made our way up to the front door, a camera tucked discreetly at the corner blinking red. They flashed wristbands, and then the door clicked open, and we followed through a series of doors the same as the front. Each door opened only once their wristbands had been made visible.

Finally, after about the fourth door, we emerged into what I can only describe as an international 4 p.m. rave. People from every corner of the world danced to some techno-pop song in a room down the hall, while strobe lights flashed and black lights illuminated everything and anything into a Day-Glo hue.

We walked up to the front desk, heavy-hearted and unsure of what we’d just gotten ourselves into (once again), and to the heavy bass of David Guetta, whoops and hollers, and the chanting of “chug, chug, chug” followed by “yeahhhh.” We got our wristbands and then entered the world of Hostel Travesura International.

“This is it!” Elissa announced, unlocking the door and letting Derrick and I walk in first. “It’s not much. But it’s home for now.” Her mouth drew down in disappointment. “We’d planned to go to Mancora, but Matt lost his passport, so we have to stick around.”

The room was L-shaped, with three sets of bunk beds. Two sets were tucked around a corner, while the third bed, the empty one, was the first thing you saw when you walked in.

“Is there a safe or a cabinet we can lock?” Derrick asked. His cantankerous demeanor still not having seemed to dissolve.

Matt nodded and then walked over to the far wall. “Everyone gets a locker. You can put your own lock on it, or rent one from the front desk.”

Derrick nodded and then went to work unloading his bag.

“We’ll leave you two to unpack,” Elissa said softly, coming up behind me and resting a hand on my back. “But come meet us downstairs in a bit. It’s Music Bingo night in the bar, and the food at this place is actually pretty good.”

We didn’t talk much as we unpacked. In fact, we hardly said two words to one another the entire night. We unpacked in silence, we ate dinner in silence and then we got drunk off our faces and won prizes in music bingo, all without conversing at all. He just sat there with a pissed-off scowl on his face, his eyes like two gray thunderclouds of rage.

It was nearly two thirty in the morning when we finally staggered up the stairs to our room. Elissa, Matt, and their friends Rita and Karina were all still downstairs dancing on tables and doing shots with a group of Argentinian soccer players.

I stumbled into the bathroom and started to brush my teeth, hating going to bed without minty fresh breath and hating even more when I woke up with the taste of my last drink in my mouth the next morning. The door to the bathroom opened up, and Derrick stalked in. His brows pinched while he opened up his toiletries bag and squeezed toothpaste out onto his brush. We stood there, eyes locked in the mirror, both of us foaming at the mouth like rabid mongoose, rhythmically brushing our teeth.

I spit and rinsed and then wiped my mouth. “You’re being an asshole,” I said, with a slightly drunken slur to my speech.

He spat and rinsed. “Excuse me?”

“This isn’t my fault, you know?” My hands on my hips, I snagged his eyes in the mirror.

“Are you saying it’s mine?”

I shook my head. “No.”

“Then why am I an asshole?”

“Because you’re treating everyone like garbage. You’re angry.”

He shot me a look and then went to the task of removing his contacts. I turned away. I just couldn’t handle watching someone jam their finger into their eye. Ray had worn glasses and contacts as well, and it freaked me out to watch him put them in and take them out. I was equally disturbed by the site of blood. Med school, no matter how well I had scored on the MCAT, had never been in my future. And I had deliberately avoided any form of criminal law as well, just in case I had to look at images of gruesome murder scenes, instead sticking to corporate law. And look how well that had turned out!

“And you’re not angry?” That chip was still there on his shoulder, and his tone was proof of it.

I snorted. “Of course, I am. I’d like to find the fuckers and castrate them and their first-born sons myself. But I don’t shut people out when I’m angry.”

He flicked the contacts into the garbage and then turned to face me. His hard, shirtless body was big and menacing in front of me. I swallowed and took a step back. “Well, I do. Give me some time, okay?”

I couldn’t handle how intense his stare was, and I let my eyes fly to his big, sexy bare feet. “Okay…you’re not mad at me, though?” I don’t know why I felt the need to ask. I’d done absolutely nothing wrong.

A knuckle came up under my chin, and he tilted my head up until I was forced to look back into his eyes. “No. I’m not mad at you.” He dropped his hand and then turned around to leave the bathroom, I followed him.

“Okay.”

“You take the top bunk.” He ordered. “They look sturdy enough, but if for whatever reason they collapse, you’ll be less hurt, because having me fall on you could be really dangerous.”

I shrugged again and started to climb the ladder. “Okay.”

He flicked the light out and climbed into bed. “Goodnight, Piper.”

I pulled the sheet up to my chin, the need to cry suddenly grabbing hold of my chest and throat so fiercely I could hardly breathe. I squeezed my eyes shut. Hot tears trickled down onto my pillow, and the vice around my ribs began to squeeze.

I felt him shift in the bed below and then heard the strained squeak of the metal frame. “Piper.”

I opened my eyes. He stood in front of me, but all I could see was his head. The moon was peeking out from behind the drawn blind and was casting beautiful shadows across his stubbly face.

I fought to control my breath as it came out in staggered gasps.

“Piper.”

“It’s nothing.” My voice caught in my throat. “Goodnight.”

“Piper.”

“Go to sleep, Derrick.”

“Piper.” Then he reached for me. I was drawn to him, drawn to his kindness, his charisma, the quiet power and confidence that seemed to percolate around him like an invisible ball of energy. I scrambled over the small bed rail, and he caught me, cradling my body against his. He tucked us both into his tiny twin bed, spooning me, protecting me with his warmth. I was asleep in seconds.

Chapter 4

I didn’t even hear our roommates come in. The wild partiers were as quiet in the room as they were loud down in the bar. But I knew they’d come home. Daylight poured in through the sheer blinds, and I slowly let my eyes adjust to the light, while images of bodies, still dressed and drunkenly heaved onto beds, came into view. It looked as though they’d all collapsed into bed. Shoes were still on feet, glow-sticks were still around necks, and I think Matt still had a beer bottle in his hands by the looks of it. But I took inventory of rising chests and snores, and everyone still seemed to be alive.

I wiggled and was immediately greeted with a masculine grunt behind me, followed by warm, hairy arms pulling me tighter against a hard chest. It only took a couple of seconds for me to remember where I was, and who I was with, and despite the circumstances of the last twenty-four hours, I smiled. I squirmed in his arms more and closed my eyes. And that’s when I felt it. That all too familiar prod, in the backside.

I swallowed, but then pushed into it and rotated my hips. He growled behind me. “Morning.”

“Morning,” I whispered.

“Sucks that we can’t take advantage of such a great hard-on, eh?”

I chuckled low in my throat and brought his hands down to my breasts. “Yeah…is it really that great?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, thrusting it between my legs. “Super hard.” He nipped my earlobe.

I reached behind myself and fished him out of his boxers. It was great, big and firm and silky smooth. I wanted it. I needed it. We’d been through hell; we were shredded, we deserved to feel good.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” I started to awkwardly stroke him while encouraging his curious hand to travel down and beneath my pajama shorts.

“You’re dirty.” His teeth grazed my shoulder. “I love it.”

“We need this.” Suddenly breathless, I let out a contented sigh when his fingers started rubbing circles around my clit.

“We do.” He bucked into my hand as I ran my fist up his length, from root to tip and back.

“Fuck me, Derrick…please.”

His was voice husky and rough behind me. “God, I love it when you beg.” He quickly pulled his hands from my body and shed his boxers, I shimmied out of my shorts and underwear but then resumed the spoon position. If any of the roommates did wake up, the spoon position would be the most inconspicuous, and we could probably get away with just closing our eyes and feigning sleep.

“Shit!” His breath was warm on my ear and neck, sending a frisson of need straight to my core. I squeezed my legs together, desperate for some friction. “Condoms are across the room in my bag.”

Fuck! “I, um…I have an IUD.” His fingers had found my clit again, and my eyes were threatening to roll out of the back of my head. “And…and I’m clean.”

“I’m clean, too,” he whispered, pushing himself further between my legs, demanding I let him in. And dear God, did I ever want to. “Just got tested.”

I swallowed. “O-okay.”

“You’re sure?”

I grinned and craned my neck around to look at him. “Fuck me, Derrick …please.”

His smile was pure masculine triumph, and he captured my pleas, fucking my mouth with his tongue. Deep and commanding plunges while his lips grabbed and pulled, claiming all of me. It was a messy kiss, not comfortable and incredibly awkward, but somehow it just added to the moment, to the forbidden exhibitionism of it all. I spread my legs for him; he found my cleft and thrust inside.

A room full of sleeping people, people we’d just met, and we were humping like dirty cavemen. Each finding solace and comfort in the body of the other. We’d lost so much. I’d lost so much, and not just yesterday. I felt like the last few years of my life had been filled with nothing but loss. First my aunt, then my grandmother, and then Ray. I needed to feel something besides grief. I needed to feel good. I needed to feel alive. And God, if Derrick didn’t make me both.

I pushed myself onto him, taking all of him, feeling him slide in and out of me, my body gripping him tightly. “Fuck, you’re so snug.” His teeth grazed my earlobe then traveled down my neck. The man was a vampire, and I loved it.

“Oh God,” I whimpered, moving my hand down so I could rub my clit, but he figured out what I was doing and batted my hand away.

“Let me do the work. You just enjoy.” He started to tease. Pinching and pulling, only to mix it up again and massage lovely little circles around my swollen nub, until I was seconds from combustion.

“Derrick, I’m close.”

“Oh God…” he groaned. “You’re fucking perfect. You know that?” His fingers picked up speed, while the rhythm of his thrusts began to falter, he was close. He pinched my clit. “Come for me, Piper, come hard, baby.”

Waves of pure, unadulterated ecstasy rippled through me as I tumbled off the cliff. He’d kept me riding that sweet paper-thin edge for so long that my body was positively screaming for release, and threatening to revolt it I didn’t get it soon. When he finally let me go, I was swept up in a vortex of sensations. All good. All amazing. My entire body, even my brain was on fire. It was all so hot. So forbidden. We hardly knew each other, we weren’t protected, we were in a room with other people, and yet for some reason, all those wrong and naughty things felt so incredibly right.

The orgasm continued to unfurl in my belly as I pulsed around him, drawing him deeper into my body, willing him to find his own release. And he did. Teeth found my shoulder again, and he bit down hard, muffling his snarls of satisfaction against my skin. I was excited to check the mirror later for bite marks. The sick and twisted part of me kind of hoped there’d be some.

He grunted a few more times behind me, his body trembling in the aftermath of his climax, while his hand came up and he cupped my breast. “You’re amazing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re pretty amazing yourself.”

“Oh shit!” He had started to slip out.

I squeezed my legs together and cupped my mound, wondering how the hell we were going to get ourselves out of this situation. We were both naked from the waist down, and it was a twelve step walk to the bathroom, past the beds of dead to the world roommates. If I tried to get dressed under the covers, I’d make a giant mess. Crap! We’d been so caught up in the moment we hadn’t thought about what we’d do afterward.

“Wait a sec,” he said, sitting up in bed behind me and rummaging around under the blanket for his underwear. He pulled them on and slid out of bed, a still fairly impressive tent pitched in his front of his shorts. But he didn’t seem to care and walked right past the passed- out foursome and ducked into the bathroom, bringing back a wad of toilet paper. He handed it to me and I shoved it between my legs. I slipped on my underwear and shorts and quickly scurried off to pee.

I joined him back in bed a moment later, then suddenly I found myself beneath him. “I’m sorry I was such an asshole yesterday,” he whispered, biting my lip, which forced my eyes to roll into the back of my head.

I fluttered my eyelashes at him and let my arms float up to rest on his shoulders, my fingers playing with the silky soft hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s okay. Yesterday was rough.”

“It just takes me some time to process things. Study all the angles before I react. But I was a jerk, and I’m sorry.”

I rubbed my nose against his. “And I’m a hothead who acts first then thinks about it later.”

“Quite the pair, eh?”

I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Mhmm.”

“Hey, you two,” came a groggy voice from the bottom bunk of the bed across the room. Big black raccoon eyes with mascaraed lashes slowly blinked open, while blonde hair that looked like she’d stuck a fork in an electrical socket started to move as Elissa attempted to sit up. “Don’t be having sex while we’re in here, okay?”

Derrick’s body started to shake with laughter on top of mine. And soon I was trembling too. “Okay,” I squeaked.

“Let’s just fly up,” he said as we made our way to breakfast, choosing to eat at a restaurant outside of the hostel. We’d walked past a cute little kitschy bistro-type place when we were out for our wander the day before. The menu had been interesting, and we wanted to go back and try it.

“Up to Cusco?”

“Yeah. I know we’d both planned on busing up, but after everything that has happened,” he shook his head and clutched his camera bag to his chest like it was an infant he was deathly afraid of dropping. “I’d rather just get my ass to Cusco than sit on a cramped and stinky bus for a day and a night.”

I had to admit it, the idea of simply flying up there sounded awfully appealing. I wasn’t looking forward to an endless bus ride either. I’d done one from Boquete to Panama City, and it’d been bloody awful, cramped and bumpy, with terrible Spanish films playing on the televisions overhead.

I nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m going to go duck in and check out some new computers,” he said, switching gears and pointing to a shady looking computer store. “Maybe I’ll find mine. The robbers may have pawned the stuff to ditch it quickly.”

My face fell, but he just chuckled and pulled me close, planting an affectionate kiss on my temple. “Come in with me?”

My eyes flew down the road; I knew exactly where we were. I shook my head. “Uh, no…I’m…I’m going to go look for a…for a souvenir shop. Meet you back in here in fifteen?”

His eyes flashed fire for a quick second at my refusal. But then he tossed on a giant, panty-soaking smile and pecked another quick kiss on my temple (this appeared to be his thing).

“Okay,” he said, untangling our fingers and pushing open the door. I grinned at him and turned to go. A woman on a mission. And then I headed off.

I hit the buzzer for the door, and within two seconds it clicked open. Unlike the new hostel we were staying in, where the level of security rivaled Fort Knox, this place would let anyone waltz in, including shady maintenance guys.

There she was, again. Sitting like an idiot behind the desk. I walked up to her. “Do you remember me?” She squinted at me, and then it dawned on her. Her eyes going wide, while her hand jerked and she fumbled with the pen in her hand.

“Uh…Senora…Miss…”

I glared at her. “Have you found out who did it?”

She shook her head and started to stammer. “N-no.”

“Did you have something to do with it? Did you get a cut?” I started wandering around the little lobby, an old worn couch next to a stand of pamphlets, a potted plant sitting on top of her desk, next to a small clay cup of pens and scissors.

She swallowed, then her eyes darted to the boisterous group of young twenty-somethings who came bounding down the stairs. “P-please…” she murmured.

I cocked my head. “Please what?”

She shook her head. “Y-you have money. J-just go.”

What the hell did that mean? I have money? So, because I happen to have more than the average Peruvian, that gives them a right to steal from me? What the fuck?

I turned to the boys who were laughing. “You know this place is dangerous, right?” Four happy smiles vanished. I nodded. “Yeah, we were robbed here yesterday. First, they gave my room away. So, then I agreed to share with someone else. Then the pipes burst in our room. So, when we went out for a bit to let maintenance fix the bathroom, they, or someone else, used bolt cutters on our lock on the valuables cabinet and robbed us. Took my…” I hesitated. “Took my boyfriend’s laptop, his passport. Credit cards, money. My cameras.”

Their eyes went wide.

Gladys shook her head. “No…no…no robado.” What was this woman’s deal? Why was she so reluctant to admit that we’d been robbed? Why was she against having the authorities in the hostel? Something was seriously fishy.

“Yes!” I said with a hiss, spinning back around to face the woman. “Si, robado.” And then something came over me. Like I was suddenly possessed, my inner beast, my inner bitch came raging forward. All the loss I’d suffered and bared throughout the last couple of years came to a head, my arm came out, and I ran it across her desk, sending everything to the floor in a flutter. The clay cup crashing and smashing, sending pens everywhere. Damn, that felt good. I moved on. I flipped over the pamphlet rack, and then grabbed the potted plant and smashed it to the ground. I was on a rampage, determined to destroy, to ruin. To ruin her. Even if she was completely innocent in all of it (which I highly doubted, given her behavior so far), I needed someone to blame.

I continued on my path of destruction. The four backpacking boys just stood there with their mouths hanging open, watching as the crazy blonde chick trashed the hostel lobby.

But then I felt a hand on my shoulder. “Lady,” came a strong accent, maybe German. “I get that you’re mad, and you have every right to be. But she’s calling the cops. You need to go.”

The lightbulb flashed on, and I stopped. My heart was pounding while my chest heaved as if I’d just run a marathon. I was practically foaming at the mouth. I saw that her cell phone was glued to her ear, while her eyes darted around the room.

“Lady…you need to go.”

“Fuck!” And I sprinted.

“Whoa, whoa! Where’s the fire?” Derrick chuckled, after I smacked right into his chest, having bolted from the hostel and directly back to the computer place. He grabbed me by the shoulders, the humor in his eyes disappearing the moment he took in the panic on my face.

I swallowed. “We…we have to go.”

“Why?”

I looked behind me. “I kind of went back to the hostel and trashed the place. She called the cops on me.”

“You did what?”

“J-just the front room. Knocked some stuff over, broke a planter.”

Just then a big thick hand came up under my arm and began ushering the both of us down the sidewalk. I tried to dig in my heels, but the force of the man behind us was just too strong.

“You guys need to change your appearance and keep a low profile,” the gravelly voice whispered.

He turned a corner and then ducked us all into an alley. Only then did he let go of my arm. Derrick wrenched his body away and spun around to confront the man. “Dude…what the…”

“Shhh,” the mountain of muscles warned. We heard footsteps running down the sidewalk. The mountain turned his back to the street and pushed the two of us in front of him. The footsteps drew nearer, and then three police officers ran past.

“Are they looking for us?” Derrick asked.

“Yes,” Mr. Mountain murmured. He peeled off his hat to reveal a completely bald head. “Here, put this on. Can you tuck your hair up?”

I shook my head; my hair was too long. But I put the hat on anyway, pulling my ponytail through the hole in the back. “Why am I doing this?”

“You guys need to keep a low profile,” he said again.

“Why? Because I trashed a hostel lobby?”

“Yes.” His voice sounded like a Harley Davidson coming to life, while eyes as dark as midnight, blue and deep, stared back at me with unwavering focus and sincerity. His head was shiny and bald, but he owned it, and it looked good. Muscles rippled out of his tight black T-shirt, while two-day-old scruff clung to his chin, hiding a faint but long white scar that traveled up the left side of his jaw to his ear.

“What the fuck is going on?” Derrick asked impatiently, his wary eyes and “ready to bolt” stance saying he wasn’t yet entirely convinced this guy was here to help us.

Baldy rolled his eyes. “My name is Chase. I’m…” he paused. “I’m one of the good guys, and we’re here on a” — his eyes darted around the alley quickly — “sensitive mission. The hostel is a front for something. We’ve been bugging them for some time, trying to figure it all out.”

Holy shit. “A front for what?” I asked, suddenly happy as a pig in shit that I’d gotten out of there when I had.

He shook his head, big blond caterpillars practically kissing, he furrowed his brows so tight. “I can’t say.” And then it dawned on me. Had they been bugging the place yesterday when we were in the shower?

My cheeks must have gone fifty different shades of pink. “I didn’t listen to that,” he said matter-of-factly, reading my mind. “Besides, you’re not the first two people to get it on in a hostel bedroom.”

My face was on fire.

Derrick shook his head. “I still don’t understand what the hell is going on. Are you a SEAL? Joint Task Force 2? Who are you with?”

“You two need to go back to your hostel and stay there,” Chase said, evading his question. What was Joint Task Force 2?

I shook my head. “Derrick has to go to the embassy today to get a new passport. We were just going to grab breakfast and then head to the embassy.”

Chase’s eyes flew to each of our faces, and then he nodded once. “All right, but let’s get a move on. I’ll come with you.”

We started to move, Derrick managing to keep pace with our new bodyguard, but I was forced to trot at a steady lope to keep up. “So why are we in danger?” I asked, a tad out of breath from how quickly we were traveling through the streets.

“What was on that laptop?” He turned to Derrick but didn’t stop moving.

“Photos and articles,” he said dubiously. “I’m a travel journalist and photographer. I’ve been in Costa Rica and Panama for the last six weeks taking pictures of monkeys and sloths and writing about the nature sanctuaries they live in.”

Chase shot him a side-eye. “That’s it?”

Now it was Derrick’s turn to side-eye. “Yes. Why? You think they thought I had sensitive information on my laptop and that’s why they stole it?”

He rubbed the stubble on his chin, and it made a raspy sound. “Perhaps. I’m not sure yet.”

“What is the hostel a cover for?” I asked again, a painful stitch forming on my side. Luckily, I spotted the white and red symbol of the true North, strong and free, waving just up ahead. I could have cried, it was so beautiful. My flag. My home.

Chase made a low rumbling sound in his throat. “We don’t know yet. But we’re leaning toward money laundering and possibly smuggling of illegal goods. Maybe even human trafficking, or drugs; again, we’re not entirely sure. They’re good at what they’re doing and hiding their operation well.”

We came up to the guard gate in front of the embassy. He walked straight up and started speaking to the woman behind the Plexiglass. We were then asked to present all our identification, only Derrick didn’t have anything besides his international driver’s license, his last emergency credit card, and his travel medical insurance card. Apparently, that was enough, and we were eventually permitted access.

“You weren’t stopped by anyone in Panama and asked to bring anything in your suitcases, were you?” Chase asked after we’d all taken a seat in the unfriendly and very un-Canadian embassy waiting room. Seriously, had the decorator even bothered to Google Canada? Where were the images of lakes and rivers and the ocean? Leaping orcas, sassy beavers, and stoic elk? Instead, there was just an ugly-ass mosaic of random-colored tiles glued to the wall; it looked like something a six-year-old had reluctantly done at summer camp.

Both Derrick and I shook our heads.

“Did you leave your bag unattended for any prolonged period of time? Meet anyone suspicious? Tell them which hostel you were staying at?”

Derrick shook his head again. But my mind was back at my hostel in Panama City. Eduardo was Panamanian, and he’d suggested I go to The Inca Treasure because his brother-in-law owned or ran or managed the place. I couldn’t entirely remember the connection. But I’m not a seasoned traveler, and I took his friendliness as good ol’ hospitality, ignoring every instinct I had that the guy could be shady. I wanted to see the good in people. My job had groomed me to always look for the worst, to find flaws, and now that I’d left that world, I was trying to see the best. But when I thought more about it, I remembered that when I had been waiting for my cab to the airport, I’d needed to run to the washroom, and I’d left my bag in the front lobby under his watchful eye. Had he put something in my bag?

I reiterated all this to Chase, while Derrick’s eyes grew wider and Chase’s brows pinched tighter.

“You have no idea what he could have put in your bag?”

I shook my head, hoping to God it hadn’t been drugs.

“Well, it didn’t trigger the security scanners at the airport, so…”

I swallowed, fear and dread tasting metallic on my tongue. This was not at ALL how this holiday was supposed to go down.

“Or,” Derrick started, giving Chase a sidelong glance before focusing all his attention back on me, “we were robbed simply because we’re white and appeared to have money. No foul play, nothing smuggled.” He rested a hand on Chase’s shoulder, which appeared to make the bald, blue-eyed mountain very uncomfortable. “I know you’re trained in all this subterfuge and spy stuff, but in this case, when we hear hooves we need to think horses and not unicorns.”

Chase made a rude noise in his throat and inconspicuously shrugged off Derrick’s hand. Derrick wrapped the other arm around my waist and pulled me close. I didn’t hesitate, and I slouched into him.

“Well, either way,” Chase said with a surly scowl, his demeanor clearly rattled. I was going to guess he wasn’t used to people challenging him or touching him. “Keep a low profile in Lima, okay? Gladys called the cops, and she scanned your passport when you arrived, remember? They have all your information. And even if you are innocent, guilty of nothing more than breaking a potted plant, the authorities would love nothing more than throwing your white ass in prison to earn some bail money.”

At that moment, I cursed myself for not having gone into international law. So instead I just nodded. Derrick nodded, too, though his was far less emphatic than mine.

That seemed to be enough for Chase at the moment. “Where’s your new hostel?”

“Not far,” Derrick said. “About six blocks.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Derrick rolled his eyes and was about to say something snarky, I’m sure, but just then he was called to order and had to go and plead his case for a new passport.

“Are you two married?” Chase asked, startling me out of my fog. I’d been rehashing what I’d just done at The Inca Treasure, the adrenaline still pumping through my body. It had felt really good to trash the lobby. Cathartic.

“No.” I shook my head. “We, uh…we actually just met in the airport in Panama.”

I thought for sure the caterpillars were going to jump on his forehead and he’d spin around and give me a wide mouth and face painted with judgment. But the man didn’t even flinch.

“In this case, Derrick might be right. It may just be horses. But just be careful, okay? Do you have a phone?”

I shook my head. No, the bastards had stolen that too. Maybe I should go and buy a cheapy phone. At least while we had our bald bodyguard present we could wander around the city with a bit more ease.

He grunted. “’K, we’ll go get you a phone. And then I’ll put my number in it. If you find anything in your backpack, or someone suspicious contacts you, you’re followed or whatnot, you let me know, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

I was busy studying the tile on the floor while Chase seemed completely content just sitting there looking straight ahead. I’m not even sure he was blinking. Was this part of training for whatever organization he was with? No blinking? I watched him out of the corner of my eye.

“Yes?” he asked slowly.

“Who are you with? Or if you tell me, will you have to kill me?”

He let out an exasperated sigh; his shoulders slumped just a fraction. “Have you heard of SEAL Team 6?”

I nodded.

“I’m not with SEAL Team 6.” He swallowed. “Let’s leave it at that, okay?”

Well, shit! That just prompted about one hundred other questions.

A few minutes later, Derrick re-emerged. “Well, they believe I am who I say I am. But it’ll be a couple of days before I can get a new passport, so I’ve got to stick around Lima for a bit.”

I fell into line with the two men after we’d reclaimed Derrick’s new laptop and Chase’s phone from security, and we made our way back out to the street. Derrick’s fingers linked with mine on instinct. How could it be instinct when we’d only known each other for twenty-four hours? But instinct or not, it felt good, and I held on to him, happy that I didn’t have to travel alone anymore, happy that I had someone to share this with.

Chase flanked me on the other side, and I felt tiny, like a child between two big sexy men. But as handsome as Chase was, as much as he radiated alpha-male waves out to everything with two X chromosomes, making them swoon and cream their jeans, I was more attracted to Derrick. The ball of energy around him wasn’t red like Chase’s, and it didn’t scream alpha to the rooftops. Yet, he was no less dominating, no less confident; it was just a quieter confidence, a more inherent and reserved dominance. People seemed to flock to him, but he didn’t demand their attention they way some alphas do. It just happened organically.

And besides, I was done being with a man whose job was dangerous and could get him killed. I’d lost Ray because his job had been dangerous, going out onto a boat in the middle of the ocean to collect samples. Who would have thought a biologist’s job would be life-threatening? And I’m sure if this Chase guy had a woman, she was saying a prayer or two every night because the man’s job was not safely pushing a pencil behind a desk, it was out in the field running intel on slimy drug dealers and human traffickers. No, Derrick was safe, his job was safe, and he made me feel safe, and that’s exactly what I needed.

We took our leave of the bossy bald bodyguard a little while later after both Derrick and I had gotten new phones and exchanged numbers with Chase. He even let us stop and grab breakfast, though we had to get it to go. By the time we had made our way back to the hostel, it was nearly lunch. We took our food up to our room, where thankfully all the other roommates were out. They’d mentioned going and doing a tunnel and cave tour, so we quickly ate our breakfast and then took advantage of the empty room (not that that stopped us) and humped like adrenaline-fueled bunnies. I’d hardly had a chance to finish my ceviche and undercooked French fries before Derrick was on top of me, peeling away my clothes and biting my neck, ordering me up onto all fours.

But as we laid there in post-coital comas, atrophy in our limbs and sweat on our brows, I felt something in him change. He didn’t move, he didn’t say anything, but the aura around him shifted, and he pulled away from me. He was mad. It was the same vibe I’d gotten after we’d checked into this place when we’d followed Elissa and Matt back, right after we’d been robbed. He was withdrawn and contemplating something.

“Derrick?” I whispered.

He made a noise in his throat but didn’t say anything.

“Y-you okay?”

I looked up into his face; he was staring straight up at the slats of the top bunk, a muscle twitching along his strong jaw.

“A-are you mad?”

More silence.

“Are you mad at me?”

A long, deep exhale. “What you did today was incredibly reckless, Piper.”

I turned to face him, angling myself up on my elbow so I was looking down on his face so that he couldn’t help but look up into my eyes. Those deep and stormy grays were fixing me with a steely stare. “What I did?”

“Going back to the hostel and antagonizing Gladys the way you did. You could have gotten seriously hurt; you could have gotten killed.”

My lips parted, and I went to say something, but the conviction, the fear, the anger in his eyes stopped me.

He swallowed. “Seeing the panic in your eyes like that, when you ran into me on the sidewalk after you left the hostel, and then finding out the cops were after you — you scared me half to death.”

We’d just met. He hardly knew me. Why was he getting so emotional?

He must have sensed my skepticism, because his face softened just a fraction, and his hand came up and cupped my cheek. “I know we haven’t known one another very long, but it’d seriously suck if you got hauled off to prison or stabbed in the street…” His lip lifted into a barely discernible smile. “Just saying.”

I rolled my eyes, but then his face grew hard again. He was seriously pissed, but seeing as we weren’t really together, and he wasn’t my boyfriend, the line where he could get legitimately upset was very fuzzy.

“Don’t do anything like that again, okay?” The edge to his voice was starting to dissolve. “I like you…and I’d hate for something to happen to you.”

My hand landed on top of his, and I closed my eyes and leaned my face into his palm, nodding. “Okay.”

His eyes took on a wicked gleam. “Save your inner beast, the one with the temper and the fire and the rage, for the bedroom, okay? Let your beast out on me.”

I lifted one eyebrow skeptically. Finally, he smiled. I was not a sex beast. I was not a dominant in any way, shape or form. I might be a hothead and have my bossy moments in my everyday life, but in bed, I was begging to be dominated.

“Go savage on me, woman. I can take it.” Big, straight, pearly white teeth glowed back at me, while his eyes twinkled with all kinds of mischief, the frustration from earlier having seemed to evaporate and join the smell of sex in the air.

I turned my head and took one of his fingers into my mouth, biting it just hard enough to hear him inhale.

“Yeah, like that…but really let those claws come out, let those fangs drop and go mental. Give it to me.” I lunged forward and nipped his chin, so far out of my comfort zone. But he was telling me to be a beast, so in a way, I was still obeying orders.

“More.” His free hand drifted down beneath the blankets to where I was once again growing wet and hot for him.

I grappled for his back and brought him on top of me, letting my nails rake him from shoulder blades to buttocks and back, all the while my teeth continued to drag along his skin, tasting him, claiming him. I clamped down hard on his deltoid when his fingers brushed my clit, and his mouth captured my nipple. The man was a multitasker, and I couldn’t have been more grateful. Playing my body like an instrument he’d known since birth, a prodigy, and we’d only just met.

I felt his cock prod the apex of my thighs, and I spread my legs wider for him, welcoming him home. He slid in with ease, my pussy clenching around him, reveling in the feeling of being full once again.

He started to hammer into me, splitting me open, while his pelvic bone rocked against my clit in an oh so wonderful way.

“Don’t fucking do that again!” He said with a snarl, rearing up and pulling out, only to slam back in, hitting my cervix and making me hiss in pain in the process. Wait. Wasn’t I the one who was supposed to release the beast? And yet here he was, as feral as they come and fixing to fuck or fight. I’m not saying I didn’t like it; this just hadn’t been the plan. I opened my mouth to say something, but he changed the angle, and all I could do was gasp from the sudden rush of pleasure.

He glared down at me. “Don’t be reckless!”

More hammering, more pleasure. He hit my cervix again, more pain. Yes. Oh God. Yes. Pain, pleasure, it all felt so good. It all made me feel so alive, so craved. He was punishing me for my behavior in the best way possible, making my body hum, making me scream for him and plead for forgiveness, for release.

He growled. “Say it! Say you’ll never put your life in danger like that again. Say it!”

I nodded and swallowed, our eyes suddenly locking, blue to gray. So much emotion poured out of him that I found myself verklempt and unable to speak. So, I just nodded again and again and again, until I felt like my head was going to fall off.

“I need to hear you say it, Piper!” His tone was thick with longing and need, only it wasn’t just the need to hear me come; there was a deeper need, a darker need.

“Yes,” I finally squeaked. “I promise never to do anything reckless like that again.”

“Good!” And then he picked up speed and vigor and fucked me until tears streamed down my cheeks and I’m pretty sure I met God.

Chapter 5

After our multiple afternoon delights, which had wound up being more intense and revealing than I ever could have predicted, we found ourselves restless and agitated with the fact that we couldn’t go out and explore. Mind you, after the way the city had treated us, a part of me didn’t really want anything to do with Miraflores anyway. But I at least wanted to have the option to boycott it.

I felt bad that my behavior had put a proverbial target on Derrick’s back, and I urged him to go out and explore on his own if he wanted to. Perhaps without me, he wouldn’t draw so much attention, but he didn’t seem interested. Instead, we spent the afternoon lounging up on the top floor of the hostel, enjoying the hazy sky and blistering sun, while drinking pisco sours and swimming in the pool when the mood struck us. We’d also booked our flight to Cusco and our hostel. No sense wasting time being disorganized and without a plan of action.

I was in no mood to read my depressing book, so instead, I downloaded an e-book onto my new phone while Derrick flipped through the pages of his Ultimate Traveler as if it were an action-packed thriller and not a fact- based, outdated list of hostels and restaurants.

Elissa had been right; it was a party hostel. No matter what time of day it was, bass, loud and heavy, beat around the building, and it was no different up on the pool deck.

“Did you know that Lima is home to one of the oldest higher-learning institutions in the New World? The National University of San Marcos, which was founded in 1551 during the Spanish colonial regime, is the oldest continuously functioning university in the Americas.” He tipped back his beer and lifted his aviator-clad eyes up to meet mine. All I saw was my own reflection, and I was giving him an amused half-smirk. “What?” he asked.

I giggled. “I can’t figure you out. Beast in the sack. Bossy as fuck, but then you’re also this adorable, fact-spewing nerd.”

Even though I couldn’t see his eyes I didn’t need to to read his body language, and suddenly I found myself beneath him, in front of everyone on the pool deck.

He stretched himself on top of me. “I’ll show you who’s a nerd, woman.” He went to grab my hand, and I can only assume, whisk me back to the bedroom, when our plan of more naughtiness was suddenly interrupted.

“There you are,” Elissa sang, coming up beside us, looking incredible in her hot-pink bikini. Matt was in her wake, board shorts hanging low and a towel draped around his neck.

“How were the caves? Or were they tunnels?” I asked. Derrick moved back over to his own lounger and took a swig of his beer. I followed suit and took a sip of my pisco sour, this drink that Elissa had introduced to me the night before and had quickly become an addictive favorite. Pisco was a clear brandy local to Peru and Chile, and bartenders added fresh-squeezed lemon or lime, simple syrup, and a frothed egg white. It was cool, tart and refreshing, like summer in a boozy glass, and I was already on my fourth for the afternoon.

“Tunnels.” She grinned, pulling up a lounge chair next to me. “They were cool. Is that a pisco?”

I nodded and took another sip, frowning when I realized it was empty, my straw making that slurpy sound at the bottom.

Derrick chuckled. “Empty?”

I pouted and nodded again.

He stood up and nodded at Elissa; she grinned with a wink.

“Fear not m’ladies, for I shall replenish your beverages.” And he sauntered toward the bar, looking sexy as hell in his black board shorts, while Matt loped after him.

Somehow, I’m not entirely sure how it happened, we spent the entire day up on the pool deck. Before I knew it, it was dark out, my stomach was rumbling, and I was drunk. We ordered burgers from the hostel kitchen, because in addition to being a nightclub, a hostel and a rec center, apparently, the place also cooked up some righteous dishes, local and Western alike. I practically had an aneurysm from how good my burger tasted. My inner sex goddess busted out some serious moans and groans with each messy bite, while my eyes rolled into the back of my head and I’m pretty sure I heard angels singing behind me. Greasy and gooey, with so much cheese and what, at first, I thought was going to be weird but ended up being wonderful, an over-easy fried egg, it was the perfect meal to chase away the hunger pangs and balance out all the alcohol that was currently coursing through my bloodstream.

“Let’s play a game!” Elissa announced, staggering where she stood, the two of us having donned beachy summer dresses over our bathing suits, as we all continued to sit up on the pool deck, the entire rooftop having been converted into a nightclub. There were strobe lights and disco balls, smoke machines and even louder music than before. I’d thought it had been loud during the day, but now I found myself having to yell just to hear my own thoughts.

I nodded and sipped my drink. I’d lost track of how many pisco sours I’d had. I was beginning to think my blood was slowly being replaced with pisco, but at the moment things were feeling so good, so I didn’t really care.

“Let’s play ‘would you rather,’ and if you’re the odd man out, you have to drink.” And then over walked Matt with a tray of shots.

My eyes went wide, oh mama.

Elissa grabbed a shot. “Okay, I’ll start…I would much rather…have sex with a guy after he’s just been for a run, then a guy who hasn’t showered in a week.”

I nodded, we all nodded, nobody drank.

It was Matt’s turn. “Okay, I would rather…”

We went this way for some time, back and forth, drinking and laughing. All of us coming up with ridiculous scenarios to try and get the others to drink. And it seemed the more we drank, the racier and more outlandish the scenarios became. At one point, I found myself nodding that I’d rather have a threesome in a room full of my family, then go down on an octogenarian priest (that had been Matt’s contribution to the game).

The tray had originally been loaded with sixteen shots of a potent liquid I couldn’t actually put my finger on, and when I looked back over at it a few minutes later, only three full ounces remained. Where had they all gone? How many had I had?

“Okay, Piper, you’re up.” Elissa giggled, her body swaying to the beat of the music as she closed her eyes and sucked her drink through her straw.

I bit my lip. All right, I guessed it was deal-breaker time. “I…I would rather be with someone who has a criminal record, and potentially done time, than someone who has ever had to pay for sex.”

There! I said it. It was out. I averted Derrick’s eyes and looked down into my half-full glass, swirling the straw around like I was cooking some temperamental mole that needed to be watched in case it boiled over. But this was a big deal for me. The boyfriend I’d had right before I got married had been cheating on me with prostitutes.

It wasn’t until he gave me chlamydia that I found out his little Thursday night “hobby” was that he went out, got a hotel room and handed over cash for a good time. He’d called them “call-girls,” women who were willing to do things that he was too afraid to ask me to do (even though, had he asked me, I probably wouldn’t have said “no”; I’m not afraid of rough play or a little kink). He’d said he always went through an agency, and the women were all supposed to be clean. But none of that made a difference. The fact of the matter was, he’d been cheating on me, and he’d been paying to do it. It didn’t matter that we’d only been seeing each other for around six months by the time I found out (even though he’d been doing it for the entire six months). I found the whole idea of paying for sex, even before Nolan had gone and done it, absolutely disgusting.

So even though I hardly knew Derrick, I think we were going on thirty-six hours or so, had sex with him only a handful of times, the drunk in me felt it was the right time to lay some cards on the table. If the man has ever paid for sex, I was hitting the bricks.

I saw some bobble heads in my peripheral vision. “Me too!” Elissa cheered. “Paying for sex is gross. That’s what blow-up dolls are for!”

I heard Derrick snort, but I’m pretty sure he was nodding.

“Me too,” he finally said. “I’ve never had to pay for it…does that sound like bragging? That I’ve always managed to get laid without it being a transaction of sorts? I mean I made out with my R.A. in college a few times, I think I might have gone down on her, but that was so that she wouldn’t break up our dorm parties. Was I whoring myself out?”

I couldn’t help but laugh, and then I finally met his eyes. They were soft but inquisitive, and he gave me a sexily quirked eyebrow. But I just shook my head in dismissal. I’d tell him where that drunken bit of nonsense came from later.

“I’m bored with this game,” Elissa slurred. “Piper, what do you do for work?”

“I am…or I guess I should say I was a lawyer.”

Derrick’s eyes flashed wide, and he turned to face me.

“Was?” Elissa asked.

I nodded. “Yeah. Went to law school, wrote the bar exam, the whole shebang, but I only lasted a year in the industry.” Eyebrows around our little group all rose up in surprise. My parents’ brows had done the same thing when I’d finally told them I was quitting law. Seven years of schooling down the drain. But that didn’t matter to me.

Ray had told me from the very beginning he thought I would do better in a more nurturing job, like a teacher or something else with children, a speech path or child therapist. But I’d always thought law or medicine. Given my grades in school, those had been where the teachers had pushed me. But medicine was off the table; I hated the sight of blood. So, law it was. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“It just wasn’t for me,” I continued, shaking my head. “Too high-stress. I wasn’t sleeping, wasn’t eating, was having panic attacks and nervous breakdowns. I need a low-stress job…I need a low-stress life. I’m not even thirty, and I often feel like I should be getting ready to retire and move to Florida, my body and brain are so tired.”

Everyone nodded, seeming to accept my answer. And then the focus quickly switched to Elissa’s schooling and that she still had one more year to go in her bachelor of history degree and was just totally done with academia. She’d also been considering law but wasn’t sure she could endure another three years of school to get there.

Somehow, though I’m not entirely sure how, our conversations of school and work eventually morphed into discussions of sex. Because when you’re drunk, sex is almost always at the forefront of your mind, and it’s also a hilarious topic of conversation, especially when you’re drunk. People who are otherwise rather prudish in their normal day-to-day life can come out with some crazy one-liners that could make a sailor blush (this was my mother after her fourth Chardonnay). Thankfully, though, I managed to keep a tight lip about our little morning dorm room escapade. It would do no good to let our generous roomies know we kind of, sort of had sex right in front of them.

It seemed the longer we talked about sex, the hotter I got, the more I wanted to go and have sex. The five or so times Derrick and I made love had been fantastic, but it’d only been sex. But at that moment, as he stood up to go and grab another beer, the heavy sway of his cock inside his shorts, just a hint of what lay beneath, I found my mouth dry and my panties wet.

Elissa and Matt had shared with us earlier, that despite what we thought, they were not actually a couple, just friends on a backpacking trip together. I desperately hoped that they wouldn’t be jonesing for bed anytime soon, and Derrick and I could take advantage of a free room again. He caught me looking at him like a starved man might stare at a loaf of bread, and instead of hiding my desire I screamed it from the rooftop with my body language. A lick of the lips here, a fluttering of the eyelashes there, a well-timed bob of the eyebrows, and before I knew it, we were eye-fucking one another like crazy.

“You guys game?” Elissa asked. She’s been prattling on for a while, but I’d rudely been ignoring her and instead making googly fucky eyes at my bunkmate.

My head snapped up, and I smiled at her, hoping she didn’t know I hadn’t heard a word out of her mouth. “Game for what?”

“Apparently, there is a great gay bar not too far from here. We’re going to go. You game?”

Does that mean they wouldn’t be back for several hours? My mouth hung open, and then my eyes flitted to Derrick. The look he gave me was smoldering. I must have shaken my head a little too emphatically because the table erupted into laughter.

“All right. Well, enjoy your privacy.” Her eyes flashed back and forth between Derrick and I. “Rita and Karina have hooked up with a couple of Brits, so they won’t even be back in the room tonight.”

I swallowed. God, I could practically taste his skin beneath my tongue. I needed to taste more of him; I needed to taste all of him.

I let out a sigh. “Thanks.” Though I didn’t bother to take my eyes from the sizzling man across from me. The way he was still looking at me, I could almost feel his mouth trailing wet, hot kisses down my thighs. More, deeper… please.

We said a hasty and giggly goodbye to our roommates, stumbling down the stairs with our arms looped around one another. He fished for the keys in his pants and unlocked the door, and then before the door had even clicked shut, I was being stripped bare and forced backward toward the shower.

“Shower.” Need dark and driven in his gruff tone. And then he reached behind me and turned on the tap. I watched him as he peeled off his shorts, a beautiful erection springing to life and slapping against his taut stomach. I lunged for it.

His hands fell to my shoulders. “Uh-uh, greedy girl. Me first.” He helped me over the ledge and molded my body the way he wanted it. I was plastered up against the side of the shower wall, with one leg propped up on the ledge, my core spread open for him, wanton and begging. Water thrummed down all around us, beading on his lashes and in his thick and luscious hair. Was it wrong that all I wanted to do at that moment was thread my hands through it and pull his face into my pussy? I resisted the urge but wasn’t ruling it out for next time.

“Ah,” he sighed, hunkering down onto his knees. “Me first.” But then his eyes flicked up to mine. “I’m going to eat the fuck out of you.” Holy mother of God. He dove into my pussy face-first, with the passion and vigor of an insatiable beast, tongue laving at my folds, sucking and nipping, swirling and twisting, plunging and plundering my craving cleft until I was frantically bucking into his face. Wild for an orgasm and ready and willing to do anything to get it. A curious finger probed my folds and slipped in, and then another. In and out they slid, beckoning my release, while his tongue continued to torture.

Harsh sucks and evocative little licks were followed by a decadent sweep up from perineum to clit using the entire surface area. The man knew what he was doing, and what he was doing was driving me insane.

“Oh God,” I mewled. “More.”

A hum of approval buzzed through his lips, and I nearly lost my footing on the ledge. He slipped in a third finger and then let his tongue slide up one more time, ending with a tight, hard little suck on my swollen clit. I went off like a rocket, thrusting and panting as the climax ripped through me, the warmth and steam from the shower mixed with my fuzzy pisco and booze brain, making my soul lift up and out of my body. I hovered just above in the hazy fog, watching as this incredible man ate his fill of me, lapping up my juices, never seeming to be sated.

When I finally found my head, he helped me find my feet. But I didn’t even have time to blink the water from my eyes or brush my hair off my face before his lips took mine. Passionate and demanding, he fucked my mouth with his tongue. He tasted like beer and me and damned if it wasn’t the biggest frickin’ turn on, déjà vu of the most erotic kind as his tongue plundered my mouth, mimicking the way he’d just fucked my pussy, making it long for his touch again. I ground my leg against his thigh, already desperate for more friction, for more attention.

He chuckled low in his throat and pushed his leg against me, rubbing just the right spot until I groaned and bit his lip. His hand came up on to the top of my head and gave it a forceful push, smiling against his mouth I sunk to my knees. I liked to be bossed around and roughed up during sex. It was something I’d realized very early on in my life, after the first time my first college boyfriend and I had tried tying each other up and spanking. He preferred to do the tying and the spanking, while I asked to be shackled and punished on a regular basis. We’d worked well together for a while.

“So greedy.” He used his free hand to stroke himself in front of me. I licked my lips and flicked my tongue against the purple crown. He was a nice size, and he kept himself neatly trimmed. “Open up, pretty girl.” Fuck, I loved dirty talk. I did as I was told, taking him into my mouth and letting him bottom out immediately. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew how to suppress my gag reflex, and I also knew what drove men wild, and deep throating was one of those things.

I pumped him root to tip with one hand, while the other one gently trailed up his thigh and between his legs, cupping his balls, and rolling them around in my palm. They were hairless, which was a plus, and so soft. I squeezed and pulled until he inhaled and then groaned in approval. All the while, my mouth never stopped. In and out I sucked him, letting him fill my mouth and ram my tonsils, only to pull him back out to the crown and give it a gentle little nip or kiss.

His fingers wove their way into my hair. He growled. “You’re such a dirty little thing.” He pulled my face harder and faster onto his cock. Deeper, until my eyes flashed open and tears pricked my eyes. And fuck if I didn’t love it. “I want to fuck your face so goddamned hard.”

I moaned with him in my mouth and nodded. There was no other way to let him know I agreed; I wanted him to fuck my face hard too. I wanted him to make me cry, make me gag, blow his load in my mouth until I choked.

But then he stopped, and using my hair, albeit with a sudden gentleness that made my heart go pitter-patter, pulled me off of his cock. I blinked up at him through the spray of the water.

His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glassy, but he also held a hint of worry on his face. “Piper…are you okay with this?”

I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth and nodded, eager to have him back in my mouth. “Yeah.” My heart swelled with how caring he was being, but my body and my libido wanted him to stop talking and put his cock back in my mouth.

He shook his head. “No, seriously. Things are getting a little… intense. I’m not being too big of an asshole, am I? You’re okay with the dirty talk and the rough stuff? You know I’ll never actually hurt you, right? It’s all just for fun?”

I nodded again and reached for his cock. “If I weren't okay with it, I’d have stopped you. You were rough this afternoon, too, and I loved it. Trust me, I like it rough, and I like it dirty.” I flicked the tip of his shaft with my tongue again and then pulled down just a tad too hard on his balls. “I want you to choke me with your big cock, okay?”

His mouth dropped open for just a second before a beast like no other emerged. His eyes grew dark and hooded while the corded muscle on his neck bulged and his nostrils flared. There was no man left. He was all animal now. His grip in my hair tightened as he pulled it from my scalp just hard enough to make me gasp. He grabbed my head and slammed my face back down onto his shaft. I coughed a little from the impact, but then quickly let him set the pace he wanted, let him use my face, all the while I twirled my tongue around from bottom to top and back, fluttering at the tip and grazing my teeth up the base, reveling in his moans and snarls.

“You’re so fucking sexy.” His pumping was growing more erratic the closer to orgasm he got. “So fucking hot.” His fingers tightened in my hair; he stilled and then let go. Warm, salty semen spurted across my tongue and down my throat, and I took it all, bringing him to the back and milking him, swallowing as he came, knowing that the contractions of my throat heightened his pleasure. I tugged down ever so slightly on his scrotum and then, of course, just to finish off the scene, I blinked up at him and smiled, my mouth full of him. He was gaping down at me in awe, his eyes bright and full of fascination.

He helped me to my feet. “Holy fucking God!” He ran his hands through his hair before they settled on my waist. I rested my wrists on his shoulders and finally let myself play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It was so soft.

I couldn’t help but grin. “Good?”

But he shook his head. “No. A blowjob is good. That wasn’t a blowjob, that was a complete and total mind-fuck with a blowjob thrown in. That was incredible. Holy fuck, woman, where’d you learn to do that?”

I lifted one shoulder and then reached for the shampoo. I had to turn my back to him to keep from laughing as he just continued to marvel at my oral sex skills. Tilting my head back under the spray to rinse out the soap, I didn’t see him drop back down to his knees. But hands on my thighs and a warm, velvety tongue on my clit had me spreading my legs and leaning back against the wall again. Time for round two…

“You’re seriously okay with the rough stuff?” he asked again after we’d decided to forgo sleeping in separate bunks at all, and just cuddled up together on his bottom bunk.

I pushed my backside into him and closed my eyes. “Yep.”

I heard him inhale in my hair before he kissed the back of my head. “You’re like the perfect woman.”

I yawned a laugh. “Well, I try.”

“No seriously, you were okay with all of that?” He motioned for me to spin around in his arms, so we were face-to-face. I groggily did. My whole body was tired and boneless from another crazy day, not to mention all the alcohol and all the orgasms. It was a wonder my brain wasn’t complete and total mush.

I brought my hand up and cupped his cheek as he had earlier with me. He’d shaved after we’d showered, and his skin was buttery soft. How he’d managed to not nick himself, given his blood-alcohol level, was a feat that left me rather impressed.

“I’m seriously okay with it. I like it rough. I’m even into experimenting with some BDSM. I have for a while.”

His face grew pensive. “You’re not just—”

But I cut him off with a finger against his lips. “I’m not just anything. If I didn’t want you to ram your cock to the back of my throat until I choked, I wouldn’t have asked you to, okay? If I didn’t like the head push or your hands in my hair, I would have told you to stop. And you would have listened, right?”

He nodded, his eyes beseeching, but that look of awe from earlier was still right there. I couldn’t deny the high I got from wowing him the way I did.

“I’m a big girl,” I went on. “And I know what I like.” His cock leaped to life against my thigh, and I rolled my eyes. Men were so easy. I slipped my hand beneath the covers and started to stroke him. “And what I like… from time to time, is to be fucked rough and dirty. I like to be bossed around in bed, given orders and made to please. We haven’t known each other long, but…” I nipped his freshly shaved chin, letting my teeth travel the length of his jaw.

He groaned.

“I trust that if I ask you to stop, you will.”

“I will,” he said with a swallow. His eyes held a new intensity to them, heated and driven, but there was also a sudden wariness I hadn’t noticed before. A secret hidden somewhere behind the passion. He wasn’t letting go completely with me, not just yet; there was still more to Derrick King than met the eye.

Well, no time like the present to learn. Perhaps I could fuck the secrets out of him. I grinned at him and then grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him on top of me. “Good. But I’m not telling you to stop now. I’m not even asking you to do anything.”

“No.” He growled low in his throat and nestled himself between my legs. “You’re right, you’re not. I’ll be the one giving the orders.”

Chapter 6

We were sitting at breakfast the following morning; thankfully it was fairly quiet in the hostel dining room. Most of the guests had been at the party and were still sleeping off their hangovers. The DJ also appeared to have hung up his hat for the night/morning, and for once, there was no music thumping around the enormous compound. My teeth were enjoying the rest as well, as it felt as though they’d been rattling in my head for the last two days.

“Can we talk about the whole, ‘I’d rather be with someone who’s been to prison, then someone who has ever paid for sex’?’” Derrick asked, taking a sip of his coffee. “Where did that come from? One minute we were talking about whether we’d rather get spunk blown into our eye or our mouth by a dirty hobo, and then the next you go all serious.”

I speared a piece of papaya with my fork and put it to my lips. “I was with a guy, once, who cheated on me with call-girls.” I lifted one shoulder cavalierly, even though inside I was anything but calm. Was he going to bust out with some revelation that he too had actually paid for sex, but he’d just been too drunk and too horny to tell the truth last night?

He nodded slowly while cutting a big chunk out of his eggs benny and shoveling it into his mouth. “Ah, makes sense. Well, as I said last night, I’ve only ever gotten laid for free, so…”

My lips twisted wryly as I chewed my fruit salad. “Well, that’s good to know.”

His eyebrows bobbed. “It certainly is. So…” He continued to chew, and then shoved his bite into his cheek like a chipmunk so he could talk. “What should we do today?” And just like that the conversation and awkwardness was over. Thank goodness.

“We could disguise ourselves and go out,” I offered. “I honestly think it’s horses and not unicorns. I think we’re probably fine.”

I could tell that he was mulling it over, quietly chewing while nodding. It was a cute look.

He swallowed. “Yeah, we could do that. You’re probably right. If we hide your hair and dress down, don’t draw any attention to ourselves and stay away from that part of town, I’m sure we’ll be fine. Besides…” He swallowed and then started cutting another piece. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going a little stir crazy, being cooped up in party central all day long. It’s fine for a day or two, but I’m really feeling my thirty-plus years being around all these nineteen- and twenty-year-old backpackers.”

I snorted and nodded before getting up to grab more coffee for both of us from the urn. “I hear ya! And does the music have to be so loud?”

“And what about what kids today are wearing? Did you see those ridiculous pants that that young Finnish girl was wearing? Do you remember South Park?”

Nodding, I joined him back at the table. “But, of course. Spent most of my undergrad sitting in a dorm room playing weird South Park drinking games.”

He grinned. “Me too!”

“What about it?”

“Okay, well, do you remember the episode where Stan’s dad, Randy, microwaves his testicles and then they’re like enormous? To the point where he can no longer walk and just bounces around town on his big hairy balls?”

“I’m still eating,” I said dryly, lifting up one eyebrow in curiosity. But he just smiled and nodded, waiting for me to answer. I rolled my eyes. “Yes, yes, I remember. What about it?”

“Well, that Finnish girl’s heinous pants reminded me of that episode. Because the crotch of her pants hits the ground, but yet she still has leg holes. So, it’s like she’s wearing pants, but a skirt, but not either really. Her outfit can’t make up its mind, so instead, it just looks ugly as fuck.”

I smiled, loving the weird way his mind worked and the random tangent he was on. “Okaaaay? So, you think that the only reason anyone should wear disgusting pants like that is when their testicles are so enormous they hit the ground?”

“Yes! See, this is why we work so well together, you get me. Randy Marsh Ball Pants I’m calling them, or in case we need to be discreet, RMBP’s.”

I shook my head, unable to hide my amusement. “Okaaaay, so how do these RMBP’s fit into our earlier discussion about the fact that we feel way older than the rest of the guests here?”

“Oh, right! Because I wouldn’t be caught dead in those things. I don’t think you would, either.” He waited for me to nod and agree. “I don’t know a sane person our age who would be either. It’s clearly a generational thing. I know I’m a millennial, but I really don’t feel like one. These super millennials are annoying.”

Just then three super millennials walked into the dining hall, two of them wearing RMBP pants, while each of them had their hair tossed up into the messiest messy buns I’d ever seen, and mascara caked the skin beneath their eyes. Derrick and I took one look at each other and then burst out laughing. It’d been a while since anyone had made me laugh like that. It’d been a while since I’d laughed, period.

We decided that if I wore the big Panama hat I’d, coincidentally, bought while in Panama, hid my hair up inside it, and put big black sunglasses on my eyes, while making sure I wore boring old jean cut-offs and a white t-shirt, then I’d be hard to identify and would easily blend in. Derrick put Chase’s hat on and his own face-covering shades and figured that since he’d been sporting chin scruff the last time we’d been out around town, people wouldn’t recognize him clean-shaven.

We also didn’t leave right from the hostel. We called a cab and had it take us to another part of town, well away from The Inca Treasure and the cops that could recognize me. And so off we wandered, hand-in-hand, around the town. We ducked into little shops and weird-looking grocery stores, indulging in so much fresh ceviche at a little stand down on the dock that I wouldn’t have been at all surprised if I suddenly sprouted gills and could breathe underwater. All in all, it was a wonderful afternoon.

“What do you think of this?” I asked, grabbing a small alpaca figurine off of a shelf. “They really like their alpacas here, eh?”

“Like us and beavers,” he chuckled, admiring a brightly-colored toque, which I think the guidebook had called a Chullo hat.

I snorted. “I suppose.” I put down the plastic alpaca and joined him next to a big rack of hats. I grabbed one and pulled off my big Panama hat, instead donning the rainbow- colored toque, my hair falling down around my shoulders.

“Hey!” we heard from outside the store. Both Derrick and I spun around at the loud noise, and suddenly a man wearing jeans and a black T-shirt sprinted into the store and tried to snatch my bag. His friend, another jeans/black T-shirt guy (what was that the Peruvian thug uniform?), pointed at me while looking up and down the street.

“What the hell?” I screamed, trying to keep my bag while pushing the man off of me. Derrick was busy hitting the man as well and trying to pry his fingers from my bag.

“Bolso! Bolso! Bolso!” The man kept saying, not giving up and continuing to pull harder. When he realized I wasn’t going to give it up without a fight, he decided to switch gears and instead grabbed my arm and started pulling me out into the street.

“No fucking way, bud!” Derrick’s fist made contact with the guy’s face. And then all of a sudden, we were inundated with people, locals and shopkeepers and tourists alike, all intervening and, to our surprise, helping the guy to his feet. What the hell? But then I started to get dragged out. Someone else had a hold of my arm and my bag, and I was being roughly escorted out into the street. When I spun around to look, it was the other guy in jeans and black; he was using the kerfuffle Derrick was having with his accomplice as a distraction.

“Get off of me!” I tried to wrench myself away from him and out of his grasp, but for his slight build, the man was surprisingly strong. I flung my free hand up and started swatting at his head and face. “Derrick!”

Derrick’s head whipped around. Meanwhile, he was being held under his arms by two waify-looking Peruvian men. I’m sure he could have taken both of them with no more than a flick to the sides of their heads, but at the moment he was struggling or trying not to hurt anyone.

“Derrick!” I was still trying to bash my kidnapper over the head with my fist and scratch his arms and face with the other. But he snatched my flailing hand with his free hand and flipped it behind my back until I shrieked out in pain.

A black SUV screeched up to the curb, and another guy in jeans and this time a gray t-shirt jumped out of the back seat. “Bolso!” he hollered, pointing at my bag while waving a gun in my face. I froze. And then it was no longer a man only trying to steal my money; he was threatening to take my life if I didn’t hand my bag over. I stopped fighting his partner and unclipped my backpack from my chest and gave it to him, throwing my hand up in the air in surrender. Nothing was worth losing my life over, not even the two hundred sols I had in the bag, because money and lip gloss were all I had in there.

Derrick finally came up behind me, and he started speaking broken Spanish to the two guys. I didn’t have to understand the language to understand the tone; he was pleading with them to let me go.

The guy from the van took the bag with a smile, and then he stowed the gun in the holster on his hip. His two co-conspirators, one with a bloody nose from Derrick’s fist, and one with a bloody arm and face from my scratches, shot us both dirty looks and then climbed into the back of the vehicle. Seconds later, they peeled away, leaving the two of us standing there terrified.

Derrick grabbed my arm. “We have to go. NOW!”

I didn’t question him. The way the shopkeeper and the locals had come to the aid of the man who was trying to rob us, instead of the two innocent backpackers, was disturbing. And who was to say they weren’t going to try and pull something, take the shirts off our backs or hold us for ransom until our family or country put up the funds to get us back? No, we had to get the hell out of that neighborhood. Hell, we had to get the hell out of Lima!

We started running. I wasn’t even sure which direction we were going. But I was glad we were getting out of Dodge and running somewhere. I’d always been terrible at directions and getting my bearings; to me everything was North. And now that we were in the Southern hemisphere and the sun was to the North and not the South, things were really confusing. It didn’t help that there wasn’t really a sun in the sky to speak of anyway; even if I had known how to navigate, the smog that covered the city sky was enough to hide the sun, stars and anything else a ship captain or pioneer may have used to find their way. The smog trapped the heat, too, making it muggy and warm and difficult to breathe.

We weren’t running for long, through back alleys and down side streets, before I felt it in my chest, a painful burning and the need to stop, while sweat ran in rivulets down my face and throat.

“W-where…where are we?” I threw on the brakes when we ducked into our umpteenth alley. This one seemed to be behind a restaurant that served fresh empanadas. I felt my stomach gurgle.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“W-why...did they want my bag so badly? There was nothing in it.”

He shook his head again. “I don’t know. But something tells me it’s unicorns and not horses. And that because there was nothing but lip gloss and cash in your bag, they’ll be back. They’re not going to be satisfied. I don’t think cash is all they want.”

“I…I don’t understand.”

His eyes darted up and down the alley. “Me either, but we need to keep going.” His gaze flew to my head. “Where’s your big hat?”

Oh crap, I must have dropped it in the big fight with the mugger-guy. My hair was free-flying behind me now, like a blonde beacon of innocence and ignorance. Letting every Peruvian know, the good and the bad, that I was not from these parts. It’d be only a matter of time until the guys in the SUV and or the cops found me again. Not too many big-boobed, blonde gringos running around with a look of pure terror on their face.

He grabbed my hand and started pulling me farther down the alley, and then all of a sudden, we heard a car pull down the narrow street behind us. It was the same SUV, the guy with the black eye and bloody face from Derrick’s offense, riding shotgun.

“Oh, fuck!” Derrick muttered, pulling my arm nearly out of its socket. “How the hell did they find us?”

“What do they want?” I followed him down the alley, fear and adrenaline taking over my body and making me feel as though I were invincible. Suddenly nothing hurt. I could run forever. It was fight or flight now, and right now I was not willing to stand and fight. They had guns. I had nothing. No, it was flight time.

We took a hard right out of the alley and started running. Suddenly we saw a movie theater up ahead, and Derrick pulled me inside. Thankfully there was no line, so he reached into his pocket, tossed more than enough money at the girl behind the register, and then pulled me down the long, ugly carpeted hallway. It’s amazing how some places, no matter where you are in the world, look the same. It would appear movie theaters were one of those places. I could have been in Victoria for all I knew — the same posters (only in Spanish), the same doors, the same everything. It was a weird kind of comfort, but a comfort I couldn’t really appreciate at the moment.

Derrick put his hand on a door to enter a theater when we heard heavy footsteps. “Senor!”

I glanced back; it was a man in cinema uniform, not one of the bad guys (I hoped).

I was glad that we were able to stop, I needed to catch my breath. The theater guy caught up and started speaking very quickly, slightly angry Spanish at Derrick.

“Ah, perdon.” Derrick smiled, throwing charisma at the guy. “Canadian.” He shrugged.

The man’s mood faltered, and then he plastered on a big smile and nodded. “Canadian? I…I love Canada. You…you know Nickelback?”

Despite the mood of the moment I couldn’t help but snort. That’s the band he associates with Canada? Come on dude, what about Brian Adams? Rush? Shania Twain? Michael Bublé? We take responsibility for a lot of gems, but Nickelback, really?

Derrick just laughed and nodded. “Never met any of them personally, I’m afraid. But we know the band, yeah, though I prefer their older stuff.”

The theater attendant was all smiles now and then started speaking slower Spanish, mixed with a few English words to Derrick. It turns out the place wasn’t entirely identical to Canadian movie theaters, at least not the ones I’d grown up with, and we had to not only pay at the front register but also pick our seats. It wasn’t first-come-first-serve; it was like an airplane. We were assigned a seat.

With eyes flying around for anything suspicious, we hastily followed Roberto, as his name tag suggested, back up to the front, where we picked our seats, all the while being quizzed about how many Nickelback concerts we’d both been to and whether we were upset when Chad and Avril got divorced. Can’t say I really lost sleep over it, but it was sad nonetheless.

“All right,” Derrick said after we’d taken our leave of Roberto and were sitting way down low near the front, blindness by the end of the show pretty much inevitable. Roberto had gone so far as to usher us to our seats, using a flashlight and everything, as the movie had already started and the theater was dark and massive. “Let’s just sit tight for a bit, okay? Come up with a game plan and figure out how we’re going to tackle this. I doubt they’ll come looking for us here. And I told Roberto that we’re on our honeymoon and don’t want to be disturbed by anyone. And then I slipped him some more cash and emphasized the anyone.”

I gawked at him. Now we were bribing people? A sudden pang of regret and sadness hit me. I was on my honeymoon…kind of, our belated honeymoon. The honeymoon we were never able to have.

“Hey.” Derrick’s finger came up under my chin. “You okay? Where’d you go?”

I swallowed the sudden lump that had formed in my throat and shook my head, slapping on a giant fake smile while blinking away the tears that stung the back of my eyes. “Nothing, it’s uh…it’s just been a crazy hour. I’m still riding on adrenaline and trying to sort my thoughts.”

He nodded, accepting my answer. “It’ll be okay, Piper, I promise.” He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, not sure that he could make such a promise, but taking comfort in his declaration anyway.

I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I knew Derrick was rousing me with a soft brush of his fingers against my cheek, and the whole theater was flooded with bright light. People all around us gathered bags and coats and leftover snacks, while the credits rolled and a familiar rock song, but one I couldn’t quite place, played on the screen at the front.

“Wake up, babe,” he said quietly. “We should probably make our way back to the hostel. Call Chase and figure out what the hell to do.”

I yawned and stretched. Chase was going to be pissed that we’d defied “orders” and gone out into the city. Oh, well, we’d deal with him later. And then, as if on cue, the chaos started again.

People were being pushed out of the way, and men were hollering as the same man from earlier, the one who’d had the gun, fought his way down the aisle toward us, waving his firearm and cursing at Derrick and me.

My eyes flew around the theater. We were trapped. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. People were everywhere, and now with the presence of a gun, they were screaming and scrambling, ducking behind seats and shielding children.

And then something weird happened, something wonderfully weird. Roberto emerged from the front of the theater, down below where you’d have to crane your neck up so far to see anything you’d be left with a permanent crick. And he had a gun. He also appeared to have a bulletproof vest on. Was that a normal thing for theater managers to wear? But he held his weapon on the other man and started yelling at him in Spanish.

Everyone in the theater seemed to freeze. It was eerily quiet as we all just watched the showdown transpire. The bad guy seemed to be a little taken aback that there was someone else with a gun now. He wasn’t nearly as confident as before. His eyes took on a beady and nervous twitch while flitting back and forth between Roberto and me. He gestured to me with his gun and said something to Roberto. But Roberto just shook his head and said “no.”

“Bolso!” the man shouted.

Roberto lifted his shoulder and then turned to me. “You have a bag?”

I shook my head. “N-no, they already took my bag. They’ve robbed us once already today.”

Roberto just smiled and turned back to the bad guy (what else was I supposed to call him? He was a guy, and he was bad), he lifted his shoulder again and then shook his head. The bad guy became more adamant and kept repeating Bolso over and over again. There was more noise behind us, and when I dared to look behind the hundreds of terrified people who seemed to be paralyzed with fear and just standing there watching the lone gunman and Roberto, there were men in uniforms making their way through the crowd with POLICIA emblazoned across their chests.

Roberto tucked his gun in the back of his pants and nodded at one of the police officers. That police officer brought out his own gun (God, so many guns, my stomach was in absolute knots), and pointed it at the bad guy. He barked out an order, and the bad guy spun around, his eyes going wide with surprise. Roberto took this opportunity to sneak his way up through the aisles to us.

“Follow me,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving the police officer who was still negotiating with the gunman to put his gun down.

We didn’t hesitate and took off after him. He led us down through the aisles to a side door, which he nudged open and made sure we were safely through before following us.

“Thanks, man!” Derrick breathed, his chest heaving just as much as my own. I said a silent prayer for the people still trapped in the theater with the madman and that the police would be able to diffuse the situation before anyone was hurt.

Roberto nodded. “You’re in some real trouble. Care to explain?” My head snapped up. Where the hell did his accent go? He was speaking perfect English now, and if anything, it had a bit of a Southern twang to it.

Derrick’s bottom lip dropped, mirroring my own. “Dude, what the fuck?”

Roberto smiled. “Robert Cahill. I’m…undercover. We’re running an…operation. Care to explain what is going on?” Undercover with whom? Did he know Chase? Were they on the same side? Damn! First Chase and now this guy? Apparently, there was some serious shit going down in Lima.

We filled Robert in, including Chase, Eduardo, and the robberies, in our detailed story. He just stood there and listened. The man had a very friendly face, a big smile with straight white teeth, and even though we’d just been in a movie theater with a gunman, his smile made me feel at ease. He was a handsome man as well and definitely had some Latin roots somewhere, which made him convincingly Peruvian, and his Spanish was perfect. His dark hair was cropped close to his head, and his big, dark brown eyes seemed to see everything. His lashes were like raven feathers, and I caught myself momentarily hypnotized by their flutteriness, as he batted them with each blink.

“Well, sounds like you guys are in a heap of trouble. Let’s get you back to your hotel, shall we?” He motioned for us to follow him down a corridor.

“Do you know Chase?” I asked, not sure what else to say. “Do you, um, special ops guys know each other?”

He made an unidentifiable noise in his throat but didn’t stop walking, his strides long and quick, and like the day before with Chase, I struggled to keep up. “We know of each other. And we’re working toward the same outcome, I’m sure. But I don’t know this Chase you speak of personally. We might be working for different organizations, but all with the same goal in mind.” A smirked tugged at the corner of his mouth as he stopped on the edge of a street. “But even if I did, if I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

Derrick snorted. “It’s like that, eh?”

Robert’s smile just grew wider. “Yeah, it is, eh. Man, you Canadians really do use that word a lot. My ex-girlfriend was Canadian, and she used it all the time. At first, I thought it was just her, but nope, you all use it.”

“It’s better than huh,” I quipped. “You Americans use huh all the time.”

He snuck a peek around the corner and then waved us to follow. “Huh? What’d you say?”

I just rolled my eyes.

We came to another door, and he opened it just a crack, bringing his gun back out from the back of his pants and pointing it out the door before he stuck his head out for some quick recon.

“Coast is clear,” he said, ducking back inside. We jogged after him down yet another alley. It was dark out now, and flashing lights from all of the police cars in front of the theater lit up the night sky like Christmas lights.

But we took off in the opposite direction of the flashing lights and the wailing sirens. We weren’t running, but we were making good time, and eventually the alley spat us out onto a busy road, illuminated with street lights and commercial signs. People were everywhere, all over the sidewalks, all over the roads, while vehicles careened around daredevil pedestrians as if it were no big deal. I couldn’t get over the pure bedlam that was the streets of Lima, crazy drivers, crazy pedestrians and seemingly no fixed rules of the road. Red, green and yellow just seemed to be formalities and suggestions, but no one really adhered to their authority, while stop signs were more for decoration and a yield appeared to mean something different here than it did back home. Here it meant, “give ’er shit and pray.”

Derrick’s hand found mine, and we hustled off into the throngs of pedestrians, falling in half a step behind Robert, practically stepping on his heels in fear of losing him. Had he been blond or a redhead we would have been able to spot him a mile away, but he was dark-haired and tanned, and he blended in like a needle in a haystack.

Suddenly, a shiny black Hummer pulled up in front of us. I thought for sure it’d hit a person or two, given the way it’d abruptly stopped and how close the cars and pedestrians were, but there was no screaming or bloodshed. I prepared myself to bolt in the other direction, but then Robert opened the back door and urged us to jump in.

I clambered in after Derrick, falling belly first onto the supple leather, my face in his crotch, while Robert climbed into the front seat.

“Where’s your hotel?” he asked. I quickly righted myself and buckled up.

“We’re at Hostel Travesura,” Derrick said, buckling up his belt. “It’s near the Canadian Embassy.”

Robert nodded, as did the driver. I couldn’t see our chauffeur, besides the back of his head, which was dark red. He was enormous. Muscles upon muscles fought to get out of his tight navy blue T-shirt, while a tattoo of what appeared to be names in a stylized script peeked out from beneath his sleeves.

“This is Aaron,” Robert said, slapping his friend on the shoulder.

Aaron gave a curt but friendly wave, not bothering to turn around, though his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and the corners crinkled in a smile. “Hello.”

“What the hell is going on?” I finally managed to ask, after I’d regained my composure and wasn’t shaking like a leaf in a windstorm.

Robert took a deep breath. “There’s a new drug movement here in Lima, and we’re monitoring it. I’m assuming you know what fentanyl is?”

Derrick and I both nodded.

“Well, there’s a new drug hitting the streets, and it’s laced with fentanyl and cocaine. They’re getting it from China and using Panama and Lima as their major distributing points in Central and South America. It comes from China. They dock down here in the harbor and then send it out into the rest of the continent. They do the same with Panama, because of the big shipping industry and the canal, and distribute it through the rest of Central America and up into Mexico. Though Mexico has its own problems at its own ports.”

I shook my head. “What does that have to do with me, though?”

“Did anyone in Panama ask you to bring anything or smuggle anything in your bag for them?”

I shook my head again. “No. Chase asked me the same thing. No one asked me anything. I mean, this one guy at my hostel in Panama suggested I stay at The Inca Treasure, but that was it. I left him with my bag for all of two minutes when I used the washroom. You don’t think…?”

Both Robert’s and Aaron’s shoulders stiffened, and then they locked eyes for a brief moment.

“What?” I asked, my own eyes shifting back and forth between them. “You think I smuggled something and didn’t even know it? But Chase figures my bag is clean because it didn’t trigger anything in the airport scanner.”

Robert turned around in his seat and gave me a soft but wary look. “Smugglers are getting smarter and more creative. Plus, it doesn’t really concern them if you get caught. Have you been through your bag?”

Both Derrick and nodded emphatically. “We’ve torn it apart a few times, and there’s nothing in there.”

I wondered how I was ever going to get these lunatics off my back if I couldn’t find out what the hell it was they wanted. Had I smuggled fentanyl or some new super drug into Peru and not even known about it?

We pulled up in front of the hostel, and I felt my chest constrict. I didn’t want to leave the safety of the Hummer. I felt safe with all these men, in this giant bulldozer of a gas-guzzler. The bad guys couldn’t get me in here.

“Check your bag again. Really check it. You may need to cut it open and just get a new bag. These smugglers are crafty bastards and have perfected the art of concealment. So be thorough. And then” — he handed me a card — “if you find something, call me. Or call your Canadian friend. We’re all working on the same side toward the same goal. So, if you can’t get me, call him. Okay?”

I took the card and gave him a reluctant smile. Nothing about this was smile-worthy, but he’d saved our hides and was being incredibly patient with us. He could be flying off the handle that we’d defied Chase’s orders and brought extreme peril to ourselves and others. But he wasn’t, so for that he deserved, at the very least, a smile.

“It’ll be okay.” He smiled back. “Call us if you need anything.”

I shook my head, emotion thick in my throat. “Why don’t you just come in and check the bag yourself? End all of this speculation and find out once and for all if I’m a drug trafficker.”

Derrick’s hand fell to my back. I was getting upset again, and my voice was cracking, the words struggling to come out. “It’s okay. That’s not such a bad idea, though, eh? Come and have a look yourself. If you find anything, you can just take it.”

“Not that that will stop the bad guys from thinking I still have it,” I said with a snort. “The only way they’ll leave me alone is if they have it.”

Robert’s face was stoic in thought for a second. “Okay.” He nodded, his lips pinched in a thin line. “I’m undercover, and I’ve already blown it with you guys, so we need to come up with a believable story why I’m escorting you into your hostel.”

I rolled my eyes again. “No, we don’t. It’s a party hostel; no one is going to care why you’re there, not when you look like sex on a stick.”

His face lit up, while Aaron in the driver’s seat guffawed loudly.

“All right, fair enough. Let’s go.”

Chapter 7

“Looks clean,” Robert said after having pulled apart my entire backpack, rifling through my things, including my tampons and underwear. “No stone or thong unturned.” He laughed awkwardly as he gently, with gloved hands, handed me my hot pink G-string.

“Then what are they after?” I asked again, wanting to cancel our trip to Machu Picchu the next day entirely and just head home. Give up on the dream, give up on the plan, on the promise and just get back to reality...not that there was really much waiting back there in reality for me either.

Robert shook his head. “No idea. But for now, keep a low profile. Spend the extra money and hire a driver, not a cab, to take you to the airport tomorrow. Until then, don’t leave the hostel again, okay?”

I nodded. I wasn’t even going to leave my room.

“You should be safe in Cusco. Where are you going, once you return from Cusco?”

“I’m heading to Santiago,” Derrick put in, as we followed Robert back down the stairs, preparing to see him out.

“And I’d been planning to head to either Iquitos or Mancora.”

Robert’s head bobbed, and he tossed his latex gloves in a nearby trashcan. “All right, that should all be fine. But if you can help it, maybe stay out of Lima. Cusco, Mancora, Iquitos, I don’t think anyone will follow you. And certainly not to Santiago. Maybe just getting out of Peru altogether isn’t a terrible idea.”

I let out a weighty sigh. “Thanks.”

His smile was small and genuine, laden with my own fears. For a big burly SEAL (because let’s be honest here, he hadn’t said it, but we knew what he was, and after telling Derrick what Chase had said, Derrick had pretty much confirmed that Chase was with the Joint Task Force 2 or a special Black Ops unit) he was quite empathetic. He seemed to absorb my emotions and wear them right out on his face, in his eyes.

He let a hand rest on my shoulder. “It’ll all work out, Piper, it will. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

I swallowed hard and met his eyes. “Okay, thanks.”

“Hey,” Derrick piped up. He’d been rather quiet, contemplative and austere again. “What are you guys doing down here anyway? Peru has its own armed forces against the guerrilla group and all the drug trafficking. Besides, isn’t it mostly coke that this part of the world deals in?” Mr. Ultimate Traveler Smarty Pants was at it again with his random facts.

Robert’s eyebrows flew up in surprise.

I rolled my eyes. “He’s a journalist, so he knows stuff. But he’s also a big nerd who knows random facts about random things.”

That seemed to suffice as a reason, and the big SEAL just nodded. “Normally we don’t get involved, you’re right. I mean on occasion we might, but not usually. We have bigger fish to fry on foreign soil.”

We both nodded, knowing exactly what he was talking about. Drug trafficking was small potatoes in comparison.

“But there’s been a steady increase in fentanyl overdoses back in the U.S. and Canada in the last six months, and now this new drug that’s laced with fentanyl is even worse. They’re mixing cocaine, fentanyl, and other things to create a super drug. People are dying left, right, and center. And as we believe Peru plays a major role, we’re just trying to put our fingers on how. And now, apparently, Panama has a bigger hand in it than we thought as well.”

“Didn’t a Canadian girl die from an overdose here, recently?” I asked. I’d been momentarily scared out of my skin, reading that exact headline at the newsstand as I stood in line at the grocery store just days before I left for my trip, my entire shopping basket loaded with travel-size shampoos and toothpaste, ready to see the world and finally fulfill the promise I’d made to Ray.

Robert nodded. “Yeah, one Canadian girl and four Americans. And that’s just what you read in the news. Before that, it was six Americans who overdosed in a hostel; before that it was four Americans and two Germans. About three months ago, twelve Americans died, as well as several others from various countries. Although they’re claiming it was a building collapse, they were at an underground club. The M.E.’s report, when they arrived back onto U.S. soil, confirmed that the bodies had all been deceased before the collapse and that they’d all overdosed on this new drug.”

“Holy shit,” Derrick whispered.

Robert nodded again. “Anyway, I’ve already said way too much.” With his hand on the doorknob he turned to go, but then he stopped, a small smile on his face, though his eyes held a weighted and strained fatigue, unlike anything I’d ever seen. “And for the record, I actually do like Nickelback.”

I was putting all my personal hygiene paraphernalia back into my bag when Elissa and Matt walked in. “What happened?” she asked. “You haven't been robbed again, have you?” Her eyes quickly flew around the rest of the room to check her own bag.

I shook my head as I gathered up all the little white torpedoes and stuffed them back into my toiletries bag. “No, no more robberies...here. We were robbed in the streets today, though. Took my bag.”

She rushed over and hugged me. “Oh no, honey, not again. What did they take?” She smelled like sunshine and chlorine; she must have been up on the pool deck all day.

The tears came before I could stop them. “Nothing really, this time. Just my small day pack. Had some cash and lip gloss in it. But I really liked that lip gloss. It was Burt’s Bees.”

She laughed into my hair. “Oh, I like those too.”

I pulled away and wiped the back of my wrist beneath my nose. Robert had instructed us not to tell anyone the truth. People talked, and even though I trusted Elissa and Matt, they could let something slip, especially if they got too many pisco sours down the hatch, and then word could get out, and our safety inside the hostel would be compromised.

I shook my head. “It’s nothing. Just a little shaken is all.”

That answer seemed to suffice, and she nodded in understanding. “We’re all going to go out for dinner tonight, seeing as it’s our last night before we head back home. You guys want to come?”

I opened my mouth to say something, but Derrick answered for me, “We’re actually pretty beat. It’s been a long and a trying afternoon. And we need to make sure we have everything we need before we head up to Cusco tomorrow. Might do some laundry and stuff…you know, boring adult crap. Plus, I’m still waiting to hear from the embassy about my passport.”

Elissa’s mouth stretched up into a wry and knowing smile. She probably thought we were feigning exhaustion and instead going to spend the night humping like convicts on a conjugal. “All right, then. Well, enjoy your evening. There’s a party upstairs on the pool deck again tonight; the theme is Birfday Smurfday. Everybody is supposed to paint themselves blue.”

I lifted one eyebrow while shaking my head; I was so over all the partying. I’d partied in high school, I’d partied in college, and we’d done two nights of partying here. I was done. “Why blue?”

She started to dab on lip gloss in front of the mirror. “Why not?”

Elissa, Matt and their growing group of fellow backpacker friends left a little while later, all of them already slightly drunk from the beer they’d snuck into our room and had started drinking while playing some card game Einar from Norway had taught everyone.

But I wasn’t in the mood for fun. I was in a foul mood, a self-pitying mood, and I skulked in the corner and watched them all, unable to extract myself from my funk and join in their joy.

“You okay?” Derrick asked. He had a beer in his hand and crouched down next to me. I was laying on his bunk reading my stupid book, though not a word of the last chapter had been absorbed. I hadn’t a clue what I’d just read, what grief step was I on. Bargaining? Denial? No, I’d done both of those things. Purging? Was that a step?

I gave him a sidelong glance. “What do you think?”

“I believe you’re pissed off at yourself because you disobeyed Chase’s orders and then took your hat off when you weren’t supposed to. Now you’re punishing yourself by not having fun. You believe you deserve to be in a time out because you put all those people in the movie theater in jeopardy.”

I propped myself up on my elbow and stared at him. Get the hell out of my head. He just grinned that panty-dropping cocky grin. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

I threw on a scowl for good measure. “Maybe.”

“Move over,” he said as he nudged me to the side, laying next to me on his back. “You want some?” He offered me the big beer bottle. I shrugged and took it from him. It wasn’t great, but it wasn’t sewage either. Drinkable, but certainly no Phillip’s Blue Buck or Lighthouse I.P.A.

“Feel better?” he asked, after I took a couple of sips and handed him back a much lighter bottle.

“A little,” I grumbled.

“I’m right, though, aren’t I? You’re beating yourself up.”

I exhaled and put the bookmark back in my book. “You and I should probably go our separate ways. I’m bad luck. You’re either going to get killed, wind up in the hospital or lose a limb at the very least if you stick with me. I’m a jinx.”

He leaned over and pecked me on the nose. “Are you done yet?”

“Done with what?”

“Your pity party?”

“I'm serious. You’re probably going to wind up in the emergency room with a gunshot wound or a knife in your gut if you keep traveling with me. They’re after me, not you.”

He rolled me over onto my back, and then proceeded to cover me with his body, not giving two hoots that there were half a dozen people in the room, all playing some card game on the other bunk beds. “I’m not going to abandon you. I’m not going anywhere, got it?”

“Why aren’t you frustrated with me for nearly getting us killed?”

He pecked my nose. “Who says I’m not a little pissed?”

My eyes flashed open.

“But not at you.” He grinned. “I’m just as much to blame. Even though it was your idea to go out, I agreed to it. How they found us? I have no idea. But I’m just as responsible.”

I shook my head. “No, you’re not. You’re innocent in all of this; it’s me they’re after.”

“Yeah, but I promised you I’d protect you. I should have known better. We should have just laid low here at the hostel until we headed to Cusco.”

“But you’re not mad?”

He shook his head. “I’m not mad. And I’m not going anywhere. You’re stuck with me, got it?”

I swallowed the hard lump in my throat. “Got it.”

“Good.”

“Hey, you two, what did I say about having sex in here when we’re still around?”

It was closing in on eleven, and even though I was dog-tired and craving sleep, I was having a hard time letting it claim me, due to the pumping bass up on the pool deck and the never-ending parade of worries marching through my brain. Derrick and I had taken advantage of the empty dorm room once again, exploring one another’s bodies with unhurried ease and the growing familiarity of seasoned lovers. But we’d finished, showered and turned out the light, not interested at all in the whoops and hollers and inviting music from the ruckus going on upstairs.

We were snuggled up under the blanket, neither of us actually asleep, just dozing, when the door burst open and light sliced through the darkness like a broadsword.

“Come on, Papa Smurf and Smurfette, let’s go party!” And without being given time to protest, or even put on more than the skimpy PJ’s we had on, we were whisked away by a group of unidentifiable blue people all laughing and chanting and smelling strongly of beer and body paint.

They ushered us up the stairs, following the bass just like the Pied Piper’s rats, until we emerged on the pool deck, the floor thumping, the lights flashing and a sea of blue people undulating and rocking to the sick beat.

Both Derrick and I were tossed down onto two lounge chairs, while someone, I’m thinking possibly the Finnish girl with the atrocious pants, brought over a small bucket and a paint brush and began painting my limbs, chest, and face.

Another girl painted Derrick while he laughed and smiled and accepted the beer and the shot someone offered him. “Come on, Piper, smile! We only live once. Let’s make the most of it. Let’s live, let’s have fun.”

Where was this sudden zest for the nightlife coming from? Earlier that morning he’d been complaining about the millennials and practically yelling at the kids to get off his lawn. What had changed?

“Come on!” Elissa said with a giggle as she handed me a pisco sour. “It’s like Derrick said, you only live once. What more do you have to lose? Everything’s been taken from you anyway!”

Well, she had me there! So, after the Finnish girl, whose name was Irma, finished painting my entire body blue, I stood up in my shorty-short PJ’s and a skimpy black tank top. Derrick stood up too. He was bluer than me, and the way the paint defined each ab and his pecs made my jaw drop and my sex soften.

He came up and rested his hands on my hips. “Hello, Smurfette.”

I giggled. “Hello, Papa Smurf.”

His blue brows pinched. “Why am I Papa Smurf?”

“Because you’re the oldest fucker here!” Matt said with a laugh, coming up and handing Derrick another beer. I felt something wet on my back, and when I turned around, I realized that Irma was painting my shoulder blades. Her accomplice was behind Derrick and painting him as well.

“Well then…” Derrick said, chuckling and taking a big sip of his beer before he continued. “…In that case, come to Papa.” He pulled me close, not caring at all that our body paint was still wet, dipped me low and captured my mouth with his. He tasted like beer and toothpaste and, within seconds, I felt my muscles relax, and I wilted into his arms, returning the kiss, in turn, our tongues dancing to the beat of the techno pop.

“Get a room!” Elissa hollered, which was followed by a slew of yelps and whistles from her posse.

Derrick’s lips left mine, and I forced myself not to whimper, but I couldn’t help the pout. “We had one until you asshats decided to kidnap us. Now, as Papa Smurf, I say we have a karaoke competition. Who’s with me?”

The entire crowd at the bar cheered, and soon the rave music died down, only to be replaced with more sing-along familiar tunes, like “Summer of ’69” and “Brown-Eyed Girl.”

Much as we had the past two nights, we found ourselves drunk off our faces and having a terrific time getting there. Derrick was the life of the party, a blue-bodied Adonis who everyone wanted to be around. He was like honey, and the entire hostel were his bees, trying to get close enough, trying to get a taste. But not once did he ever forget about me, just when I thought he was going to take off into the sea of people to go and dance or do more shots, a hand would shoot out toward me, and he’d pull me into the mix. We were never far from each other; in fact, I’m not sure we ever stopped touching.

But eventually the yawns crept up on us, and if I squinted hard enough, I saw the sky changing and dawn threatening. So, even though our roommates were all still having a good old time, singing off-key and incoherently to some Lady Gaga song, we bid our farewells and made our way back downstairs to our room.

“That was fun,” Derrick said, stumbling on the last step. I grabbed his arm to help stabilize him, but he took that as an invitation and instead spun me around and drove me up against the wall, crashing his lips down onto mine, his hands making their way up and beneath my tank top.

His teeth grazed my neck while his fingers found a hard and achy nipple. He pinched, and I squeaked, followed by a sigh, my body going limp against him.

“You’re a machine.” My heart rate picked up inside my chest as his hands roamed my body, one still playing with my breasts as the other one made its way down into my shorts.

“You love it.”

I nodded fervently. “I do. I really, really do.”

Ray had been an incredible lover, generous and patient and appreciative and always willing to try new things. But he wasn’t dominating the way Derrick was. He’d never pinned me up against the wall and made me feel like the sexiest woman alive, like if he wasn’t inside me in the next thirty seconds, the entire world was going to end.

Ray had been gentle and worshipping, but he’d never excited me the way Derrick did. Even the first time we’d made love had been romantic and sensual. There was never any clawing or growling, never any raw, wild-for-one-another passion. We’d play now and then because he knew I liked it, and I think he did, too, but it was always me initiating it. It was always me saying, “Hey, how about you tie me up tonight and use the riding crop?” And he would, and we’d have fun, but the drive, the inherent basic animal need to fuck was never in his eyes the way it was in Derrick’s.

Derrick had the sex drive of a fourteen-year-old who’d just touched his first boob, whereas Ray could go once, maybe twice a day if I were lucky. So even though I missed my husband every day, I couldn’t deny the way my body, and often my heart, felt when I was with Derrick. I felt as if I’d finally met my match, someone whose needs mirrored my own, whose urges and cravings were my urges and cravings, someone who was always up for it and would never turn me down.

“Will you let me try something?” His breath warm on my neck.

“Yes.” Not even caring what it was. I just wanted him to touch me, to get me to the point where I no longer cared about anything but his body making my body hum.

“Do you even want to know what it is?” His voice like a zephyr in my ear.

“No…I trust you.”

He groaned. “Oh, baby.” He scooped me up and carried me down the hallway to our room.

We didn’t even bother to shower first before falling into bed. The sheets were covered in blue paint within seconds, and our faces and bodies were smeared as well, as we humped and rocked against one another. Peeling away clothes and attacking one another with our mouths. And then he slowly sunk onto his belly and poised his face at the juncture of my legs. I looked down at him, swallowing in anticipation, but also missing the weight of him. I loved it when he covered me. I felt safe. A curious finger slipped inside, and I clenched my muscles around it, shamelessly lifting and bucking my hips, begging him for more.

His laugh was rough and husky as he continued to explore. “You’re so wet.”

“Mhmm.” I pushed up again, searching for friction.

“You’re wet for me.”

“Mhmm.” I was frantic, desperate for more, but he wasn’t giving it to me. He was teasing me, torturing me, and damned if I didn’t love it. My body was already on the cusp, and I’m not sure it’d even been sixty seconds.

“I want to make you scream, Piper.” The man and his dirty talk. Just his words alone sent a stab of need straight to my clit.

I bit my lip; he was just gently swirling his finger around my entrance. “Yes…please.”

“Let me know when you feel it,” he murmured, biting my inner thigh.

“Feel wha —oh!”

He grinned. “That.”

“What…what are you doing?”

“You’ve never had anyone press on your G-spot before?” he asked, before flicking his tongue out like a serpent and letting it hit the tip of my clit. My leg spasmed, and he snickered low and deep against the top of my mound.

“I-I guess not. I mean guys have tried…b-but I’ve never felt…whoa…I’ve never felt anything like this before. Does that mean they weren’t able to find it?”

“Maybe. Does it feel good?”

I nodded. It felt bloody incredible. A pressure unlike I’d ever felt before. There was no rubbing, no circles, he was merely pushing against my anterior wall as hard as he could, and my body was slowly getting ready to implode.

“It’s like a come button. I…I feel the orgasm brewing inside me; I feel it building. But…but it’s not like any orgasm I’ve had before. I feel like I need to pee. Stop. I don’t want to pee.”

But he didn’t stop; he just kept pressing. Wedging in a second finger and pressing even harder, all the while that sneaky tongue would randomly dart out and just graze my clit. Nothing for too long, just enough to wake up every nerve ending in my body and put it on high alert.

“Do you want me to stop, Piper? Or do you want to have the most intense orgasm of your fucking life?”

Well, when he put it that way. “I don’t want to pee, though. I feel like I’m going to pee.”

“You won’t pee. That’s how you’re supposed to feel. That means I’m hitting the right spot. I promise, you won’t pee, and even if you do, I don’t care.”

My head thrashed against the pillow. The orgasm was right around the corner, I could feel it, hell I could practically see it, it was going to be huge.

“Piper?”

“Yes!” Knowing that he wanted me to beg him, and desperately wanting to give him what he wanted. “Make me come, Derrick, please make me come!”

He growled against my clit. “Fuck, I love it when you beg.” He pressed even harder inside me, let his tongue dart out and brush my clit, one, twice, three times, and I then, I lost my mind.

An endless of parade of divine sensations swirled around inside me as the orgasm took hold, unfurling until my entire body felt like one giant maelstrom of pleasure, from the tips to my toes to the ends of my hair. I arched my back and pressed up into his face and fingers, while my legs cramped and my toes curled. I gripped the sheets until my knuckles ached, but the orgasm just kept on going. I heard the blood pumping in my ears, while my ragged breath and strident cries threatened to wake the neighbors. But none of that mattered, what mattered was Derrick, and how incredible, how alive he made me feel.

It was several moments before I was me again, before I was Piper and not just a shell of my former self, while my soul floated up overhead, watching my body writhe in pure unadulterated ecstasy.

His head popped up like a pleased-as-punch prairie dog, and he scooted up to join me at the top of the bed. “Good?”

I swallowed. “I believe a wise man once said to me… and I’m paraphrasing here, no, a blowjob is good. That wasn’t a blowjob, that was a complete and total mindfuck with a blowjob thrown in. That was insane. Holy fuck, man, where the hell’d you learn to do that?”

He started to laugh. “Well, that wasn’t a blowjob, first of all. That was a finger—”

But I cut him off. “Oh God, please don’t call it a finger-blast or a finger-bang. We’re not in high school, and I freaking hate those terms. They’re so…”

“Dirty?”

I nodded. “Yeah, dirty.”

He smiled wolfishly. “Oh, but baby, I thought you liked dirty.”

I made a face. “Some dirt I like. But I hate the terms finger-blast and finger-bang.”

“Then stop saying them.” He chuckled. “How about we just call it straight up fingering?”

I made another face similar to the one before. “Hand-job?”

He frowned in thought. “But it wasn’t really a hand-job. A hand-job for you would be fisting. Do you want me to try fisting?”

“Hell no!” I pushed him playfully in the chest.

“But you want me to continue to call it a hand-job?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that sounds classier than finger-bang.”

“Classier?” He leaped up onto his knees, a cute little what the fuck? expression on his Face. “You think the term hand-job is classier than finger-bang?”

“Stop saying finger-bang!”

“Finger-bang! Finger-bang! Finger-bang!”

“Oh, my God!” I couldn’t hide my smile; the man was absolutely adorable. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-one, going on fourteen. How old are you?”

I rolled my eyes. “Just the other day you were thirty-one going on seventy-five, by the way. You were talking about millennials and their disgusting Randy Marsh Ball Pants. What changed?”

His face sobered, and he paused for a moment. He finally shrugged and plastered on a big, perhaps a tad too big to be genuine, smile. “Call it a brush with mortality. You, me, we had a gun pointed at us recently… twice! Makes you stop and think about life a little differently, no? That none of us is here forever, and we never know when our last day on earth is going to be, or how or when we’re going to go. Might as well embrace the fun and adventures when they present themselves.”

“Is that why you were all of a sudden the Smurfiest Smurf at the party? Dancing and singing, doing tequila shots and crazy back-flips into the pool? Because you think tomorrow we might get shot by some deranged gunman?”

“Well that was a tad morbid and rather graphic, but yeah. We only live once; why not make it the best life possible?”

I had a feeling there was more to it than our recent brush with death, but I didn’t want to press. Even though we knew each other in the most intimate way possible and had been spending every waking moment together, I still didn’t know very much about Derrick and didn’t quite feel comfortable enough to ask him more; I certainly wasn’t quite ready to reveal all of my secrets.

But his face softened, and his eyes grew dark. “Ready for round two? I feel most alive when I’m inside you, hammering your body into a screaming, back-clawing mess. Until the only name you know is mine.” The man certainly had a way with words. I needed to find one of his articles and see if he was equally passionate and articulate about monkeys in the Cloud Forest of Monteverde as he was about making me come. He spread himself on top of me and pressed me into the mattress.

“You’re insatiable!” I sighed, my body betraying me and rocking up into his grinding pelvis.

His nostrils flared as he poised himself at my entrance. “I also want to hear you beg. Now tell me how badly you want my cock inside you.”

Chapter 8

We’d bid farewell to our new friends and Canadian heroes the next morning, with tears in our eyes and promises of keeping in touch. If it hadn’t been for Elissa and Matt and their constant positivity and zest for adventure, had they not rescued us from that police station, I’m not sure what would have become of Derrick and me. We certainly wouldn’t have had nearly the amount of fun we did partying every night at the hostel. And they’d managed to keep our minds mostly off the bad things; they helped us keep our heads in the clouds and focus on the good parts of the trip, the benefits of backpacking, like making new friends and exploring new countries. So, after many tears and endless hugs, we said our goodbyes, thanking them again for their kindness and wishing them safe travels home.

As the jet started to taxi down the runway, the flight attendants took their positions at the front and went through the motions.

“It says here the Cusco airport can be dangerous to fly into due to intense cloud coverage and bad weather. And that planes only take off from the east, so if winds are bad, flights can be delayed or canceled altogether.” The Ultimate Traveler was back up, and Derrick was nose deep, his eyes flying across the pages.

I reached up and took the book from him, closing it and stowing it in the front pocket of the seat in front of us. “Yeah…” I started, cuddling in closer to him. “That is not something I want to hear right now.”

He gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth and then tilted my head so I could whisper in his ear. “I’d much rather hear about what kind of filthy things you’d like to do to my body if given the chance. We’ve already established that we both like it rough, and I’m not against a little play and some toys. What kind of things are you into?” I needed to get my mind off the flight and apparently now the possibility of a treacherous landing, and sex and dirty talk were a great start.

His eyes grew dark as he turned away from the man beside us, practically pinning me against the window with his hard body. “Oh, Piper…” His hand rested on the top of my thigh. “…All kinds of wicked things.”

I licked my lips. “Yeah? Like what?”

“Have you ever been flogged?”

I swallowed and nodded. And I’d loved every goddamned minute of it.

He made a satisfying rumble in his throat and nodded. “Hmm, well I’d love to flog your pretty little ass. Get it nice and pink for me. Then maybe I’d slip some beads in there, would you like that?”

I looked right up into his eyes and nodded again.

His throat bobbed. “You’re killing me right now. You know that? All this talk, you feigning innocence and purity over there, it’s enough to make my fucking balls explode.” His voice was barely a whisper, but his amused irritation still came across in his tone.

I grinned at him. “Keep talking there, stud.”

His eyes flashed fire. “Bossy little thing. You’ll pay for that.”

Oh, I hoped so.

“Then maybe I’d take you from behind, fuck you hard and fast, and then just as you’re about to come, pull out the beads so that you practically lose your mind.”

I nodded and pressed my breasts against his arm. “I’d like that.”

“I know you would.”

I swallowed. “And then, what?”

“And then I’d flip you onto your back, slide a vibrator into your hot, tight, wet little pussy, one that hits your G-spot, because now we know you know how to come when I’m bearing down on it. And then I’d suck that sweet little clit of yours until you were screaming my name and bucking into my face. I want you to forget your own name. I want the only name you can remember, the only name you know how to say, to be mine.” Holy mother of God, all the moisture just left my mouth. I wanted that too, so badly.

I crossed my legs and squeezed, desperate for some friction. My pussy lips were wet and my cheeks warm. I was going to lose it here and now pretty quick if we didn’t switch gears. What had I been thinking? The man was a closet sex beast. The nerdy nice guy with his nose in a book and everybody’s best friend, the life of the party during the day, and then at night…watch out, the ravenous alpha sex beast with a taste for flesh came out, and there was no stopping his passion. But it would seem the beast was willing to get a head start today and didn’t feel like waiting for nightfall. Would he whisk me to the lavatory for a quickie? A part of me wanted to find out.

His mouth was right next to my ear, and he chuckled, his breath warm and inviting against my skin. “Hot and bothered, are we?”

I swallowed. “Maybe a little…”

He laughed again and brazenly reached up and pinched my nipple. I practically came on the spot. “Well, that will teach you for wanting to talk dirty. You’d never win that game against me, sweetheart, not in a million years.”

I was panting. How on earth was I panting? I hadn’t moved a muscle. I blinked up at him but let my hand slide over the bulge in his jeans, the bulge his jacket was doing a half-assed job of hiding.

“Who says I was playing? This could just be the foreplay, and when we get to the hotel…”

A growl rumbled through him as he shook his head, his eyes sparkling in awe. “You seriously are the perfect woman.”

I pecked him on the cheek and huddled in close, resting my head on his shoulder and linking our hands again. “Well, I certainly try.”

Less than an hour later, we touched down in the ancient and picturesque little city of Cusco, a sprawling old town of brick houses with orange clay-tiled rooftops, nestled in the heart of the Andes. With hills on either side and instant Old World charm, it made you feel as though you’d flown not only up into the mountains, but also back in time. But unlike Lima, which had been hot and muggy, when we stepped off the jet and walked out through arrivals, it felt more like being at home in the fall.

A sudden dizzying fatigue swept through me, and I stumbled where I stood, seeing spots and hearing a faint buzzing sound in my ears. Was I having a stroke? But I hardly had any time to process the feeling before a sharp and bitter cold flew right through our layers and embedded itself in our bones, making my whole body convulse into shivers. What the hell had we gotten ourselves into now? I hadn’t been this cold since last winter. The winters on the West Coast of Canada are mild in comparison to the rest of the country, but they are wet and often feel endless. And with that wetness comes a bone-chilling cold that seems to make its way past all the layers of down and wool and long underwear and cling to your very marrow until the first day of spring.

I threw my backpack on my back and followed Derrick out to where cab drivers were all parked and waiting for business.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the back seat, swallowing. “Is this the altitude I’m feeling?” I asked, having to catch my throat as I suddenly felt the bile in my stomach threaten to rise up. I closed my eyes and continued to swallow, my chest suddenly feeling incredibly tight.

“Yeah…” Derrick licked his lips, his own pallor on the greenish side. “We need to take some of those pills when we get to the hostel.”

I suppressed vomit and nodded. “Yeah.”

It was roughly a thirty-minute drive from the airport to our hostel, and thankfully the cab driver drove right through town and spoke a tiny bit of English. So he pointed out a few tourist attractions like the Plaza de Armas in the center of the city, with its beautiful old fountain, in front of the Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of the Virgin.

I was impressed, but I’m afraid poor Pablo got the reactions from neither Derrick nor I that he’d been hoping for. We both just sat in the back seat with glazed-over eyes and pinched faces, trying our damnedest not to barf.

“Hostel Travesura,” Pablo announced a short while later, pulling up next to a nondescript building amongst a series of other nondescript buildings. The only thing even remotely indicating that it was the right place was the small bronze plaque on the front wall that said “Hostel Travesura International Cusco Est. 2010.” Otherwise, for all we knew, it could have been a barbershop or a laundromat.

We unloaded and paid the driver, and then, because we didn’t have any wristbands, besides the ones from Hostel Travesura in Lima, we were actually greeted at the door by a relatively big guy (Peruvians are not very big, especially those who descend from the Incas). He wasn’t quite as big as Derrick, but big for a Peruvian, in a leather jacket and toque. He checked our passports with the reservation list on a clipboard he had tucked under his arm, and once he verified we were who we claimed to be, he plastered on a giant smile and welcomed us inside. I grinned at him, despite how crappy I felt inside. The Pentagon-level security of the place made me feel safe, and I liked safe.

It’d only been three nights, but we’d gotten used to sharing a room with four other people, snuggling up tight in the cramped bottom bunk while the top bunk remained empty. So, when we opened the door to our private room, and a queen-size bed stared back at us, I couldn’t stop the giddiness that bubbled up through me. A big bed, all to ourselves! Oh goody!

We let our bags slide to the floor, then turned to face each other. He looked as haggard and ill as I felt.

“Sleep?” he asked.

I nodded. “Sleep.”

And then we started to shed our clothes and pull back the covers. And just as I was about to unclasp my bra and set the girls free, there was a knock at the door. Derrick was far more decent than I was —he still had pants on —so I ducked into the bathroom, and he went to open the door.

“Hola,” came a timid female voice. “Coca tea, for you and Miss Valentine, to help with the altitude sickness.”

“Ah,” Derrick said, with a smile in his voice. “Gracias.” I heard the clatter of dishes and then, the door close.

“Coca tea?” I asked, unhooking my bra and flinging it on top of my bag. “As in cocaine?”

He nodded and started to pour out two mugs from the cute little teapot. “Yeah. It’s supposed to help with altitude sickness; I read that in the guidebook.” Of course, he had.

“B-but it’s cocaine.”

He rolled his eyes and handed me the mug, setting his mug down and going on the hunt for something in his bag. He came up a couple of seconds later with some pills. Ah, right, the altitude sickness pills, excellent. He handed me mine. “Bottoms up.” And then he popped his pills in his mouth and took a healthy sip of the tea.

“But…”

He swallowed the tea. “It’s not cocaine, Piper. And this is legal… kind of. We can’t bring it back to Canada, but brewing the coca leaves in tea is okay.”

I gave him a skeptical eyebrow raise. Which prompted him to grab his phone. His fingers flew across the screen, and then he thrust it into my hands.

“See, Wikipedia even says it.”

I scanned the article he’d brought up. Ingesting coca leaves is a rather inefficient means of administering cocaine… coca tea is often recommended for backpackers and tourists when visiting the Andes in an attempt to prevent or help with altitude sickness.

My eyes flitted up to his. He held his mug out in cheers and tipped the rest of the contents into his mouth. I looked down into my cup. “You’re sure I’m not going to go all crazy on a cocaine-infused bender?”

He snorted and took his phone back. “I’m sure, you little worry-wart. Now drink it so we can have a nap. I don’t know about you, but I feel like complete and total shit.” He had me there; my whole body ached, while my gut churned and my head pounded. He was digging around in his backpack again and handed me two more pills. “Advil. If you’ve got even a fraction of the headache I have, you’re going to need it.” And then he poured himself some more tea to wash it all down.

I stared at the four pills in my one palm, and the tea in the other, my head pounding like a dubstep beat in my skull. I was starting to feel that if I didn’t lay down quick, I was going to black out. Oh, what the hell? I tossed the pills into my mouth, chugged the tea, and wiped my wrist across my mouth.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled, shucking his pants to the ground and drawing back the covers. He reached for me, and I slid in next to him. It already felt so natural for the two of us to huddle together and spoon. We’d had to do it in the bunk bed for the last three nights, so now that’s just how we slept. I melted into his big frame as he wrapped his arms around me, his breath warm on my neck. “Sleep, Piper. And then I’ll fuck you senseless.”

I let out a contented sigh. “Okay.”

Chapter 9

We woke a few hours later. Footsteps, laughter and multiple languages roused me from a very deep and dream-filled sleep. I’d been dreaming of Derrick, and his chin scruff and the way it felt on my inner thighs as his head bobbed up and down between my legs. He stirred next to me, and I rolled over to face him, momentarily winded from how absolutely drop-dead freaking gorgeous he was, and he was all mine…kind of. At least for the next few days.

His lids fluttered open, and he smiled at me, his hand coming up and wrapping around the back of my head. “How do you feel?” he asked groggily.

I swallowed. It had to be illegal to be that gorgeous. I’d have to look that up in one of my textbooks when I got home. How handsome was too handsome?

One sexy eyebrow drifted up on his forehead. “You okay, beautiful?”

Nodding, I blinked a few times. “Y-yeah, I’m okay. My head feels a lot better. How ’bout you?”

He nodded and yawned. “A lot better, actually. My gut is still a little discontented, but that might just be hunger. But my head is clear, and I’m not feeling nearly as dizzy. It looks like the cocaine did the trick.” I went to swat him, but he laughed and rolled me over and flattened himself against my front, pinning me in place. “One quick one and then we’ll go explore this place and grab a bite, sound good?”

My body softened beneath him and I spread my legs, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Sounds like a hell of a plan.”

When we finally got ourselves showered and dressed it was nearly dinner time (so much for exploring downtown Cusco. Oh well, tomorrow), so we quickly went to the tour package desk, booked our trip to Machu Picchu and then wandered into the dining hall to rustle up some grub.

Even though the two places were part of a franchise, and there were some definite similarities between the hostel in Lima and this one in Cusco, this one was ten times better. Even if there wasn’t a pool at this one, an outdoor courtyard with a volleyball net, bistro tables with umbrellas, grass to laze around on (if the weather was ever warm enough to do so), a gym, and coin-operated laundry machines took the cake and the crown.

The dining hall was already bustling and busy. I had to catch myself from laughing when I realized that the real reason I liked this place so much more than the Lima location was because there wasn’t the constant heavy bass from a DJ booth raging through the building, dooming us all to early kidney failure. There was music playing, but it was from a regular stereo system, and it seemed just to be top forty, controlled by the bartender, who at the moment was also playing what looked to be tiddlywinks with a guy at the end of the bar.

He noticed us wander in and gave us a friendly wave and hello. “Welcome, strangers, where are you from?” He had a slight accent, but from his few words I couldn’t quite place it. Mind you, I’ve never been terribly good at pinning down an accent.

We sidled up to the bar. Derrick pulled out a seat for me and one for himself. “Canada.” My roommate grinned. “And yourself?”

The bartender poured two shots and set them in front of us. “Scotland. Name’s Ian. Here, every new guest gets a free shot on the house.” He winked at me. “Dinna worry, love, it’s not got cocaine in it, we’re not trying to get ya hooked or anything.” My eyes must have gone wide because he started to laugh. “Just plain whiskey.” He was handsome, with a ruddy beard that matched his hair, soulful brown eyes and two full sleeves of what appeared to be black tribal tattoos over very muscular arms.

Derrick offered up his thanks and downed the shot. He didn’t seem fazed in the least, so I took up my own glass, thanked Ian and down the hatch it went. I blanched and immediately started coughing, my throat burning from the foul liquid.

Both men laughed, while Derrick pounded me on the back and Ian plunked a big glass of water in front of me.

“You guys hungry?” Ian asked after I’d managed to compose myself and chug nearly the entire glass of water. Derrick and I nodded, accepting the menus he brought out from under the bar. I liked the dining hall. It was big and spacious, painted in an easy-on-the-eyes muted teal, with several picnic tables and high bistro tables, a foosball table in one corner and a pool table in the other. A karaoke machine and small dance floor took up the final corner next to some couches and overstuffed chairs. It was like a college common room/bar/coffee shop/restaurant, the best of everything all in one place. I just hoped the food was as good as the atmosphere, because then I might just move here and never leave.

“It’s Battle of the Homelands tonight,” Ian said a little while later, dropping two steaming bowls of rich and hearty quinoa soup and some grilled cheese sandwiches in front of us. My stomach growled at the sight of it as I picked up a wedge of the sandwich, the cheese stretching all stringy and melty. I took a bite and let my eyes roll into the back of my head. Yeah, I was totally going to live here for the rest of my life

“What’s the Battle of the Homelands?” Derrick asked, spooning some soup into his mouth, but then letting it gracelessly fall back into his bowl after it burnt his tongue. Ian and I laughed at him.

“Kind of like ‘American Gladiators,’ only we’re not all just Americans here, so you fight for your country. We’ll have trivia, arm wrestling, sparring like they do on ‘American Gladiators,’ with those big sticks on beams. I think they call it jousting or something. I think Mikey wanted to do a beer shotgun competition… loads of fun.”

I chewed quietly, the flavors melding and bursting across my tongue, a celebration of sweet and savory all in one incredible bite. Another thing this place had in common with the Lima hostel — great food, and they were both party central!

“Sounds like fun.” Derrick smiled, accepting a beer. I’d ordered another pisco sour. I had to get my fill, replace all my blood with pisco, because I wasn’t sure where else I’d be able to get such a tangy and refreshing drink once I got back to Canada. Could you get pisco in Canada?

“We’ve got a party almost every night.” Ian grinned, pointing at our Lima hostel wristbands. “But I guess you guys already knew that. Ah, mate… you have some… uh… blue on your neck. Birfday Smurfday Party last night by chance?”

Mouths full of awesomeness, we both just nodded.

“We usually do Birfday Smurfday on the new moon. Don’t know why, it’s just become a tradition. But tonight’s going to be fun, too. I think there might be a few more Canucks kicking around for you two to team up with, represent the Great White North and all that. Call yourselves the Beavers or the…” He scratched his head. “The Polar Bears? I dunno what your animal is.”

“It’s the beaver.” I nodded, swallowing the last bite of my sandwich and pouting because there wasn’t any left.

“Well, then you guys can be The Hairy Beavers…” He winked. “That is of course unless you like your beavers hairless… because I certainly do!”

We really should have taken the evening to go into Cusco and explore. Go and grab a drink with the locals, or duck into a souvenir shop and try on goofy hats, laughing until our sides hurt and the shop owner told us to buy something or leave, but we didn’t. We stuck around the hostel dining room, drinking pisco sours and beer and chatting with the hilarious Ian. Slowly, as the evening progressed, the place filled up, and soon the dining hall was a cacophony of various languages, music, laughter and lovely international cheer.

Just as Ian had said, a few other Canadians were kicking around, and we found ourselves sitting with them and plotting strategy for the upcoming Battle.

Ava, Leila, and Paul were all from Ottawa and had been in Cusco for almost two weeks already. They hadn’t even been to Machu Picchu yet but had plans to do the Inca Trail at some point. They just loved the hostel so much that they’d spend their afternoons wandering around the city, visiting schools and hanging out with kids (all three had just graduated university with teaching degrees), and then in the evening they’d come back to the hostel and partied the night away. I didn’t know how they did it, to be honest. I’d only been doing this non-stop partying thing for a few days, and already my liver and guts were sending up copious memos telling me to cease and desist, otherwise they were going to revolt.

It was no Birfday Smurfday, but the night was a lot of fun, with a trivia challenge, done in the same style as “Jeopardy,” where you had to answer in the form of a question. We narrowly missed the victory, but the Swedes were just too quick and a little less drunk than us and claimed the win. Paul, a big beefy guy with shaggy brown hair and a beard, won the arm-wrestling contest, beating out the Argentinian with the neck tattoo (who had not been happy at all with his defeat). And I’d somehow (I’m still not entirely sure how I did it, as I was pretty drunk) beat the Lithuanian girl (poor thing was the only Lithuanian in the house, so she had to represent an entire nation on her own) when we faced off on the beam and jousted, trying to knock the other person off while remaining on the beam ourselves.

Derrick tied with the Australian guy (of course, because Aussies can drink) during the beer shot-gunning competition, and Ava and Leila put in a solid effort but yielded little success when forced to go up against the two French guys in a grueling game of tiddlywinks. When the scores were finally tallied, we were tied for first with the Swedes, each country sitting with an impressive seventy-two points, while the French guys sat there with bitter scowls on their faces, as the disappointment of their bronze metal slowly sunk in.

“All right, the tie-breaker!” Ian announced, climbing onto the bar. “You have your choice. Will it be brains or brawn?”

“What does he mean…hic…” Oh shit, I had the hiccups. “What does he mean by that?” I asked, turning to Ava.

“I think he’s giving us the choice of a task that involves using our brain, like another trivia question or something, or an activity that involves strength or stamina or something, like another arm wrestle.”

I nodded, another hiccup bubbling up in my chest. Holy crap, I was drunk.

“The first to do fifty push-ups wins, or…” Oh thank God, there was an or. If I did fifty push-ups, even the girlie kind, I was going to barf everywhere. “You and your team have to come up with a list of five questions for the other team about your country. The team that answers the most questions correctly wins!” Ian said, looking to Derrick, who was the leader of our little group, and then to Anton, the leader of the Swedes.

Anton and Derrick grinned at each other and then turned to Ian. “We’ll do the questions,” they both said.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked as we huddled in the corner with Ava, Leila and Paul, a piece of paper and a pen between us.

“Positive.” Derrick beamed. “I’ve been to Sweden; I read their The Ultimate Traveler cover to cover. I’ve got this.”

I gave him a skeptical look but nodded. “Okaaaay.”

It took us a good twenty minutes to compile our questions. Making sure that they were fair, but not too easy. We certainly weren’t going to ask them what our national animal was, but the official sport of Canada (most people think it’s hockey, but it’s actually lacrosse) was not off the table.

We handed the papers to Ian, who gave them a quick look, and then, he swapped them out and handed us our questions.

“No phones, no laptops, no cheating. You have five minutes. Annnnd go!” And he drained his beer before jumping down off the bar to go and make googly eyes at the Lithuanian girl who appeared to be licking her wounds from getting her ass kicked by moi over in the corner. She held a pisco sour in her hands and wore an inviting smile on her face as Ian stalked toward her. She made room for him on the couch, and within a second or two they were sucking face. Ah, hostel life!

“All right, let’s see what we have here,” Derrick said, rubbing his hands together in delight as he unfolded the paper. “What is the name of the bridge between Sweden and Denmark?”

Paul, Leila, Ava and I all looked at one another with blank faces.

“Öresundsbron.” Derrick grinned, writing it down, and even making sure he put the little dots above the O.

“How…hic…did you know that?” I asked in amazement.

He shrugged. “The Ultimate Traveler, I told you. Okay, next one, what is the name of the gulf that separates Sweden and Finland? Anyone?” We all shook our heads. “The Gulf of Bothnia.”

I gaped at him; the man was a walking-talking encyclopedia. And as he read through the questions, answering them with total ease, exuding confidence but not cockiness, I couldn’t get over how turned on I was becoming — like wanting to abandon the game altogether and whisk him to our room, tear his clothes off and ride him like a stallion turned-on. He was brilliant.

I was breathless, while a sudden warmth crept up my chest and neck and a slickness ran down between my thighs. I rested my hand on his shoulder, but that did very little to quell my need. Instead, it just ramped it up and made me want him even more.

“Okay, the last question, everybody knows what the Nobel Prize is, but does anyone know what Mr. Nobel’s first name was?”

I perked up. I knew this one! I don’t know how I knew it, but I knew it. “Al…hic…Alfred! His name was Alfred Nobel…hic.” Covering my mouth as I hiccupped again.

Derrick’s face turned from curious to smoldering as he wrote down the last answer. Was he as turned on by my brains as I was by his? Were we two nerds who were going to go hump like geeky bunnies as soon as we claimed our victory? God, I hoped so. I really, really hoped so.

He folded up the paper and handed it to Ian who had managed to extract himself from the lips of the Lithuanian girl and was back standing on the bar. Anton handed Ian his slip of paper as well. It was a minute or two as Ian toiled over the questions and the answer sheets we’d also provided, making sure that all I’s were dotted, T’s were crossed, and the O’s had those funky dots on the top.

“We have a winner!” Ian announced, lifting his beer and turning to face us. “The Hairy Beavers from Canada take the gold in the Battle of the Homelands! Five out of five questions right!”

Everyone erupted into cheers while Derrick grabbed me roughly by the arm and spun me into his chest, dipping me low, his mouth crashing down on mine. It was as if Canada had just won gold in the Olympics in both men and women’s hockey (this was something we go mental over), and it wasn’t just some silly hostel game. In a celebration of immense proportion, I half expected to be showered with champagne soon.

I wrapped my hands around his neck and pulled him into me, our tongues dueling and dancing as teeth nipped and lips caressed. I was wild for him, desperate to get his skin beneath my fingers, beneath my lips. I wanted to taste every inch of him. We’d made love just that afternoon, but already I was going through severe withdrawal. The man was my drug, and I was starting to worry how I’d ever be able to give him up cold turkey when we finally parted ways after Machu Picchu.

Ian walked over with a tray of shots, our prize for our landslide victory. Apparently, the Swedes had only managed to answer three of our five questions correctly. Who doesn’t know that the bridge between Prince Edward Island and New Brunswick is called The Confederation Bridge? Or that poutine is an ooey-gooey dish of carbohydrate loaded deliciousness made of French fries, gravy, and cheese curds?

Derrick grabbed a shot, but then, instead of slamming it back, he put it back on the tray, scooped me up and carried me over to the bar, laying me down on top. I gave him a quizzical look, but the eyes that stared back at me were pure fire, like embers flickering in hot coals. He took the shot from Ian again, and then lifting up my shirt he proceeded to pour it into my bellybutton, and he took a lime from the tray and popped it into my mouth.

His licked my chest and neck, sipped the tequila from my navel and then came at me for a kiss, squeezing the lime between our lips, the citrusy tang mixing with the tequila on his tongue, making me lightheaded and craving more. Whoops and cheers and laughter filled the air as he did a couple more shots off of me, mixing it up between my belly button and cleavage, but always ending with a searing kiss that left me wanton and eager to whisk him back to our room.

We were kissing again, the lime still between our lips when he went to pull away, but I grabbed him by the collar. “Enough of…hic…this…” Fuck, I still had my hiccups. “Enough of this. Take me to our room and fuck me…NOW!” I didn’t even care if people heard me. I didn’t care if people knew what we were up to, I was ready to tear his clothes off right there and have my way with him, voyeurs and health codes be damned. My engine was revving, and we needed to hit the accelerator.

A wide grin spread across his face as he lifted me up An Officer and a Gentleman style and carried me toward the door. I kind of wished he’d been wearing a hat, so I could take it off and put it on my head. More laughter and more whoops and hollers erupted from the peanut gallery, but neither of us cared. I was only looking at Derrick. He walked us through the throngs of partiers, down the steps and to our room. It would have been so hot if he’d just kicked the door open and then tossed me on the bed, but, alas, real life is not always like that, and he was forced to put me down so he could fish his keys from his pocket.

“I tried to be all alpha and romantic,” he said with a discouraged grumble, jamming the key into the door and giving it a hard nudge with his shoulder. “But it’s just not practical leaving the door unlocked, especially not after Lima.”

I snorted. Lust and the animalistic need to fuck would never trump logic, at least not where we were concerned. We were quite the pair, pragmatic to the core. He turned the doorknob then looked down at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing thick and sexy in his throat. I wanted to lick it; I wanted to feel it move beneath my tongue. Wait a second, why couldn’t I? We were preparing to do far more despicable things to one another, why couldn’t I lick his throat?

I turned into his arms and rose up on my tiptoes, my hands on his shoulders for balance while I brought my lips to his skin, dragging my tongue up the front of his neck, tasting him, smelling him, feeling his pulse race and his throat undulate.

“Piper.” God, I would never grow tired of hearing my name from his lips. Never. And then he lifted me up by my hips and carried me inside, kicking the door closed for dramatic effect.

I leaped up and wrapped my legs around his waist, tearing at his shirt while peppering kisses along his face and neck. He slammed my back against the wall, his pelvis pinning me in place as his hands made quick work of my T-shirt.

He groaned. “Fuck, you are so fucking sexy.” I tossed his shirt to the floor. My jeans were next, he put me down for a second so I could shimmy out of them. He did the same, boxers too, so I figured, what the hey? And stripped off my skivvies as well. His eyes fell to my breasts, and I felt my nipples tighten. Just his look alone sent a burst of need coursing through my body, and I leaped back up onto his hips, my arms tangling around his neck as I planted wet, hot kisses all over his face and neck.

“Fuck me, Derrick, fuck me so hard… please.”

I could only describe the sound like a roar, a low rumble, with the teeth and nostril flare of a snarl, that burst from his chest and past his parted lips. He loved it when I begged. And even though we were now both naked, the way I clawed at him, the way he ground himself against me, his hands roaming my skin, it was as if we couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t get deep enough. We both needed past the skin, past the muscle. I needed to feel him in my bones, in my soul.

He pushed into me, the length of his shaft rubbing between my legs just right, hitting that sweet spot and nearly making me come. I was so ready, so primed and willing, desperate to have him inside me.

“Please…” My head fell back against the cool brick. “Inside me…now.”

His teeth raked my jaw, and he snarled as his fingers dug painfully into my butt cheeks, and he hoisted me up. Slowly, ever so slowly I sunk down, sheathing him to the hilt. I let out a satisfying moan and just stilled for a moment, relishing the intensity of being full, of how well we fit together, how right it felt. Then we started to move, hard and fast, my head smacking the brick as he pumped up into me, thrusting harder and harder. The sound of flesh on flesh ricocheted around the room, interrupted only by our ragged breaths and feral groans.

I was drunk, really drunk, and usually, when I had sex while intoxicated, I was a tough nut to crack if I cracked at all. But not with Derrick. Within minutes I was crying, sweet tears of joy running down my cheeks as I came apart at the seams, his name on my lips as I let go and allowed the climax to claim me. It all just felt so good, the rubbing, the friction, the fucking. Oh God, the fucking. The way he fit inside me, so damned perfect, I felt every part of him, relished every buck, every ram. I felt it all, and I loved it all. Bright lights and swirling colors flashed behind my closed lids as I clenched and squeezed my body around him, quivering as he continued to plunge himself inside, seeking his own release.

He stilled, pressing me harder against the wall as his teeth found my shoulder and he bit down.

“Yes…fuck!”

His cock began to pulse, and I clenched around him again. Even though I’d found my release, I wanted to help him with his and increase his pleasure, make him feel as incredible as he made me feel. His teeth pierced my flesh until I gasped from the pain, but I loved it. I truly loved the pain and the pleasure dichotomy, and just as soon as the pain came on, it quickly bloomed and spread along my shoulder and chest into a pleasant warmth.

I felt him shudder against me as he ground out the last of his orgasm, his skin rising to gooseflesh beneath my fingertips as I traced them along his hard and sexy back, tickling and teasing, scratching him with my nails until he groaned in delight.

He kissed his bite mark and then lifted his head, his eyes glassy and sleepy and so full of appreciation and desire. His lips found mine. But this time, unlike the passionate tongue twirling make out sessions from earlier, it was a sweet little closed mouth peck.

“Wow!” His fingers kneaded my butt.

“Mhmm.”

“Have I told you how freaking sexy you are?”

“Mhmm.”

“Have I told you that you’re like the perfect woman?”

“Mhmm.” He helped me down to my feet, and I headed off to the bathroom.

“Well then, what else is there left to say? Besides maybe that you’re also hella smart and that’s a big turn-on, too.”

I giggled as I shut the door. “You’re a wizard with words. I’m sure there’s no end to your compliments.”

“As long as you keep fucking me like that, there won’t be,” he said through the door.

I sat down to pee, a ridiculous smile on my face. “Deal!”

Chapter 10

I couldn’t tell at first if the tapping against my arm was part of the weird dream I was having about the squirrel monkey trying to get my attention at the animal sanctuary in Puerto Viejo, or if it was in real life. But when the strength and frequency of it increased, only to be then accompanied by a “Piper! Piper!” I struggled to open my eyes and was met with darkness and a moaning from the floor.

Crap, I was still kind of drunk. I pushed myself up to sit and flicked on the lamp on the side table. Derrick was lying on the floor.

“What the hell happened?” I asked, scrambling out of bed to kneel next to him. He was curled up in the fetal position and clutching his stomach and chest, a thick bead of sweat across his forehead. I put my hand on his cheeks; he was on fire.

“I…I can’t breathe.” He made a face like he’d just been stuck through with a rusty pitchfork.

“Is it the booze? Alcohol poisoning?” He shook his head. “The altitude? Do you have altitude sickness? Do you want me to make you some tea?”

He nodded. “Yeah…maybe.”

“Okay.” I stood up and put on the kettle and rummaged around in his backpack for the pills and some Advil. “Here.” I placed them in his hands and then passed him a bottle of water. He popped them in his mouth but struggled to swallow any water.

“My chest feels like it’s in a vice,” he wheezed. “And my…my stomach.”

“Do… do you want me to go and have the front desk call a doctor?” I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t lose him, too. I couldn’t do this alone. I couldn’t start over again.

“Maybe.”

But I couldn’t handle maybe. I needed confirmation that he wasn’t going to die on me.

I tossed on some yoga pants and a hoodie, slipped my feet into my shower flip flops and then headed out to the front desk.

It was about twenty minutes later before a soft rap at the door had me getting up and tucking a pillow under Derrick’s head, where my lap had been. I opened the door and a small but friendly-appearing woman, in green scrubs and a no-nonsense bun, smiled and nodded.

“Hello, I am Dr. Garcia.”

“Hello. He’s over here.” I led her to the man who, in just four short days, suddenly meant more to me than I was prepared to admit.

She knelt down next to him and opened up her black medical bag, putting the stethoscope into her ears. She started listening to his chest. He was shirtless, and his chest heaved and rattled with each strangled breath.

“Deep breath for me,” she said softly, her English impeccable, though not without that hypnotic Spanish lilt.

He did as he was told, but winced and then coughed. She moved it down to his stomach and then told him to breathe in and out again. He winced and coughed again, but did as the good doctor instructed.

She turned to me. “I believe we need to take your husband to the hospital for tests. I believe it is his stomach.”

I didn’t bother correcting her, that Derrick wasn’t my husband. Now was not the time. “His stomach? But he’s complaining of chest pain.”

She nodded. “We will check that, too. But we must go.”

I bobbed my head and then started scurrying around the room, changing my clothes to something a little more suitable and helping Derrick get dressed as well. He grimaced and moaned with every move. Even just putting on socks appeared to be painful.

Within ten minutes we were in the back of an unmarked, unassuming SUV and driving through the quiet, early-morning streets of ancient Cusco, Derrick’s head in my lap. I was mindlessly stroking his hair while murmuring incoherent reassurances, though I wasn’t sure who they were for, him or me.

It didn’t take long before we pulled up to a building with a giant red cross on it and some Spanish words that I couldn’t quite understand. The only one I was able to decipher was médico, but that was good enough for me. We were at the hospital; Derrick was going to be okay.

Another tiny woman, this time in peach scrubs, met us at the door with a wheelchair. Dr. Garcia and I helped Derrick into it, and then we were whisked forward to an elevator, where we rode three stories up to the top. More peach-scrubbed cuties stared at us, wide-eyed and eager, when the double doors parted, each one appearing to have an important job, because they flocked forward and fawned and fussed over Derrick as if he were a crown prince or Channing Tatum without any clothes on.

They rolled him into a brightly lit hospital room and helped him into bed. All the while, the patient did as he was told. A manly moan or wince was the only sign that he was in any discomfort, besides the grayish pallor of his skin and the deep purple bags under his eyes.

I felt unnecessary and in the way, as half a dozen tiny Peruvian honeybees in peach scrubs scurried around. Each with a purpose. I had no purpose. Except to panic and pray that he didn’t die.

His gaze snagged mine as he writhed in pain on the bed. “Piper?”

“Yeah?” I tried to maneuver around the nurses so I could be by his side, but there were so many of them, and they wouldn’t let me get close enough.

“Piper… you have to tell them that I’m… that I’m recovering from brain surgery. I just had radiation and a craniotomy a few months ago. You have to tell them.”

What the hell? Brain surgery? Radiation? Why was I just hearing about this now?

“And Piper?” He grimaced when one of the nurses pressed fairly hard on his abdomen. “I’m allergic to penicillin. You have to tell them that, too, okay?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake! When it rains, it goddamned pours!

I nodded but realized he probably couldn’t see me. “O-okay. Brain surgery, radiation, and penicillin. Got it.”

A round-faced nurse, who only came up to my chin, pushed me out of the way. “Out, Miss. Out!”

I took a couple of steps back, my hamstrings hitting the edge of the other bed, but I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t leave him. He couldn’t leave me. I started to climb up onto the spare bed behind me, thinking that would put me out of the way, but I’d be able to stay. But then the little nurses started poking him. Two were on one side, trying to collect blood. I couldn’t really see what they were doing except grabbing vials from a tray and then replacing them full of blood. Another two were using a sharp needle on the other arm, attempting to insert an IV, but from what I could tell, by the way his arm resembled a pin cushion, they couldn’t find a vein. They made another attempt, and he hissed in pain. So seeing that the other two had finished taking blood samples, I ran around to his other side, hoping to hold his hand and be some small presence of comfort.

Only when I made my way around to the far side of the bed, my feet came out from under me and I slipped, grappling on to the bed sheet and his arm, his covered-in-blood arm, for support. I looked down to see what I’d slipped in, and the floor, along with his arm, that side of the bed, and all his bed clothes and the sheets were drenched in blood. Derrick’s blood! What the fuck had they done?

One look at the bloodshed, and I ran back around to the other side, leaped up onto the free bed, hugged my knees, buried my eyes and started rocking back and forth, humming. If whatever bug or virus that was slowly attacking his system didn’t kill him, the five-foot-nothing vampires in scrubs, who’d apparently just tapped the vein on his wrist bone as if he was a freaking maple tree, certainly would. What kind of barbarian hospital had we just we just walked into?

He was breathing heavy and groaning, his whole body trying to curl up into a ball as the agony ripped through him, but more little nurses — it seemed as though they just kept multiplying — appeared from the door and held him down. Eventually one of the twitchy-palmed harpies managed to get the IV line in, and then another one helped me down off the bed and ushered me out, prattling away in Spanish. I fought to stay. I didn’t want to leave him. But she thrust a telephone into my hand and started saying “insurance” with a thick accent.

Finally, the doctor, who spoke English, came and sat beside me on the bench just outside of Derrick’s room. “We need you to call your insurance company and verify your husband’s coverage. We cannot do anymore without knowing you are covered.” So much for the Hippocratic oath.

I’d managed to grab Derrick’s insurance information from his backpack just as we were leaving, having asked him where it was and deciphering his mumbled directions. I may have been in full-on freak-out panic mode, but I wasn’t without with my legal eagle wits. I’d grabbed his personal information envelope out of the top pouch of his bag and tossed it in with everything else I’d brought with us, like a change of clothes for him, toothbrush, razor, contacts, glasses, etc.

I nodded at the doctor but asked to be alone for a moment. I needed to tell the person at the insurance company the situation but also confess that I wasn’t Derrick’s wife. I didn’t want that revelation to come out at the hospital, though. Hospitals have weird policies about only letting family in the room. And right now, even though we’d only known one another for four days, we were the closest thing to family the other person had, and I wasn’t about to leave him.

She gave me a small smile and then rested her hand on mine with a nod before getting up and heading back to go and tend to Derrick. It made me feel better to know she was overseeing his care and he wasn’t left in the clutches of the bloodsuckers masquerading as nurses.

“Hello, Pacifica Medical Insurance.” I skipped all the “press one for blah, blah, press two for blah, blah” and just hit zero so I could speak to a living, breathing human. “This is Felix, how can I help you?”

“Hi, Felix. Listen.” And I explained. I can’t tell you how good it felt to talk to someone from home. Even though I didn’t know Felix, didn’t even know what part of the country he was currently in, he was in Canada and helping me, and at the moment I found that very comforting.

“All right, Ms. Valentine. I can help you. Do you have Mr. King’s insurance information with you?”

“I do.” I rattled it all off. The doctor returned, and I encouraged her to sit down. Felix would soon be asking to speak with her, to verify a few things.

Once Felix and Dr. Garcia confirmed that Pacifica Medical Insurance would indeed cover anything that Derrick required, she handed the phone back to me.

“So how are you doing?” Felix asked. I felt my throat tighten; tears threatened and burned the back of my eyes. “You okay?”

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. I couldn’t break down, not right now. Not until I knew that he was going to be okay. I nodded but then realized he couldn’t see me. “I’ll be okay.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yep.”

“It’s okay to be scared, you know.”

I wiped away the tear that had suddenly started to sprint down the crease of my nose. “I know. But right now, I can’t be. I have to be strong for him.”

“How long have you known one another?”

I snorted. Here I was, having a therapy session in a Peruvian hospital with a Canadian insurance broker over the phone, at, God, what time was it? I looked at the clock on my phone and nearly had a heart attack. It was four o’clock in the morning.

Another tear threatened, and I hastily wiped it away, sniffing before I answered. “Four days. But we’ve already been through a lot together, so it feels like longer.”

“Hmm.”

Oh, come on now, Felix, do you want me to find a couch to lie down on, too?

Dr. Garcia poked her head around the corner and nodded at me. “Thank you for your help, Felix, but the doctor has said I could go and see Derrick again. It was nice to hear a friendly voice, thank you.”

“My pleasure, Ms. Valentine. And I hope the rest of your trip goes more smoothly. My best to Mr. King. And please don’t hesitate to get in touch with Pacifica Medical Insurance again if you should have any questions.”

I said goodbye and followed Dr. Garcia into Derrick’s room. The lights had been brought down low, and he was no longer in his pajamas (probably because they were covered in blood). He was in a brown hospital gown, had an IV in his right arm and what appeared to be a giant bandage on his left hand. No shit, they’d hacked him open to get at the O-negative. Of course, he’d be bandaged up.

“He has a gastrointestinal bug,” the doctor started. “We will keep him overnight, and then issue him a prescription tomorrow.”

I nodded. I didn’t want to leave him. What if they wanted more blood? Did he have any left? It’d looked like all twelve pints had been spilled on the floor.

“You can stay here tonight if you’d like, Mrs. King. In the other bed. It is okay.”

I hadn’t even realized it, but I’d been stroking Derrick’s forehead. He already felt cooler, and there was no longer an unhealthy gray tint to his face. I thanked Dr. Garcia and slid into the adjacent bed, watching as his chest rose and fell, his breathing deep and even. He wasn’t in pain anymore, and that was a good thing.

I hardly slept at all. The smell of the hospital room alone was enough to keep me up, but thoughts of the past week and the pure and utter chaos of it all kept my eyes wide and my breathing ragged. How had this happened? What were they after? We’d gutted my bags twice now and found nothing. Why was I a target? I had all these plans to head to Mancora or Iquitos, see more of the country, but at this point, now all I wanted to do was fulfill my promise to Ray and then go home.

I heard him moan next to me and shot straight up in my bed. “Derrick?”

“Piper?”

I slipped out from between the sheets and went to him. “I’m here, I’m here. What do you need? What can I do?”

“Are you okay?” Oh, my God. Here he was lying in a foreign hospital, bloodless and with a South American bug eating him from the inside out, and he was worried about me?

I brushed his hair off his forehead. “I’m okay. How do you feel?”

His eyes opened slowly. They were bloodshot. “Like I was hit by a bus full of alpacas.”

I snorted. “You have a gastrointestinal bug.”

He nodded, but then winced. “Yeah?”

“Do you need anything?”

“You.”

“Me?”

He shifted on the bed until there was enough room for me to lie next to him, and he patted the empty space. “I need you.”

My chest tightened, but I clambered on and tucked in tight next to him, rearranging his IV line up and over our heads. He pulled me close with his other hand. I took in the giant bandage and a surge of rage coursed through me; they’d stuck a spigot in his vein and had collected his blood like he was some goddamned tree. Where on God’s green earth were we? What time were we in? Because they certainly didn’t do this in the twenty-first century I lived in.

“It’s going to be okay.” His voice already sounded like he was halfway back in dreamland. “It’s going to be okay. We’re together. We have to stay together.”

He linked his fingers through mine.

“I can’t lose you,” I whispered. “I can’t lose you, too.”

He hummed behind me and tugged me harder against him, but he didn’t say anything. A few moments later I heard him snoring behind me, while his breath was warm on my neck. I closed my eyes and eventually found sleep.

“You’ve got to get me out of here,” Derrick said later that morning after the nurses had come in and woke us up at the crack of dawn, for no real reason. We’d had a hard night of partying, followed by an even harder night of Derrick practically dying in the hostel and then being blood-let within an inch of his life, like we were in some eighteenth-century witch doctor's shanty. Only to be roused by a bright light and brutishly opened door at seven in the morning.

All the nurses were in pale blue today, as if the days of the week were color-coded, and the way they pushed me out of his bed and told me to go had both of us wondering what the heck was up. We asked for Dr. Garcia again, as she seemed to be the only person who spoke any English, but apparently, she was out for the morning and wouldn’t be back until later in the afternoon.

I shook my head. “They won’t tell me anything.”

I’d been given the third degree by the nurses when I requested to see him after he’d been moved to another room. They’d sent me back to the hostel, telling me that Derrick needed proper sleep and more blood tests and that I was no longer welcome to sleep in the free bed. They’d been so persistent and eager to get rid of me that the head nurse, who I learned was named Sylvia, had called me a cab and accompanied me in the elevator to the street.

But I didn’t spend much time at the hostel. I showered, changed, ate, and was hailing a cab back outside within a couple of hours. I no longer felt safe without Derrick. I didn’t want to travel Peru without him, and even though it seemed we had left our problems back in Lima and were by all accounts safe in Cusco, I still didn’t want to wander around the city by myself.

I’d arrived back at the hospital just before lunch, and at first, the nurses just shook their heads at me and told me that a man by the name of Derrick King wasn’t there, telling me they didn’t understand and that I had to go. But, finally, Sylvia came back from lunch, eyeing me up like some piece of street garbage, and with palpable reluctance escorted me to Derrick’s room.

“They’re keeping me here longer than I need to be,” Derrick went on, diving into the chicken sandwich they’d brought him for lunch. I was happy to see that he had an appetite at least, and his color seemed to be better as well. “I heard them chatting about how much my insurance was going to pay for this stay. I don’t need to be here. Dr. Garcia needs to come and give me my prescription and discharge me. This is ridiculous.”

I nodded. “I know. But I don’t know what to do.”

He gave me a small smile, his cheek puffy with sandwich. “You’ve already done so much, don’t sweat it.”

“I know, but we leave for Machu Picchu tomorrow. What if they want to keep you for another night?”

He shook his head. “I can legally leave whenever I want. They can’t handcuff me to the bed and make me stay. I’m a patient, not a prisoner.”

I heard a cackle from outside. Derrick was two doors down from the nurse’s station, and they all made it a habit of coming in every ten minutes to “check” on him, all of them shooting me daggers from their eyes as they fluffed his pillow or refilled his water.

“Okay, why do they all hate me?” I asked, pulling up a chair so I could sit right next to his bed. But he tugged on my hand and shook his head, scooting over in his bed like he had the night before and encouraging me to slide in next to him. I did.

He chuckled and took the final bite of his sandwich. “They found out you’re not my wife. And they’re pissed because you lied, but also mad because…” His mouth turned up into a mischievous smirk. “Now my Spanish isn’t great, but I think they’re upset because you’re with me.”

My head jerked, and I looked at up at him. “They all have a crush on you and are jealous that I’m…”

He lifted one shoulder, the smile still there. “My girlfriend? Yeah, I think so.”

Girlfriend. Hmm. But I just rolled my eyes. “They need to behave more professionally.”

His mouth twitched. “I agree.”

And then I had an idea, and I sprang up from the bed and headed out into the hallway and down to the nurse’s station. “Excuse me?”

Three of them stood there talking, and not one of them looked up, they didn’t even flinch. It was as though I didn’t even exist.

“Excuse me?” I said again. “Perdon?”

Nothing.

I made a rude noise in my throat. The nurse facing me lifted one eyebrow half a millimeter but didn’t look my way.

“HEY!”

Finally, three sets of dark brunette ponytailed heads spun to face me, cacao brown eyes glaring at me.

I smiled sweetly. “Great! Hi. I’m Mr. King’s girlfriend.” And then, I cupped my belly with both hands. “And we’re uh…” I watched as all six eyes followed my hands. “And we’re…bebé…you know? We have to go home. Por favor… Please? Our…” Crap. What was the word for airplane? Aeroplano? Sure, let’s go with that. “Our aeroplano leaves mañana, por…mi casa.” I cringed at how I must have sounded with my garbled Spanglish. They were probably struggling not to laugh in my face.

But they didn’t. Instead, their eyes lit up, and they were suddenly all smiles. All three of them rushed over and put their hands on my stomach. And one rushed off into another room, only to return with a bottle of water and a package of crackers.

“The doctor will be here within the hour,” I said, walking back into Derrick’s room, munching on my crackers.

He gave me a puzzled look, but his eyes flitted back up to the television that was precariously perched on a platform sticking out of the wall. He’d turned the television on and was watching some soap opera or something, with retro-looking actors in bellbottoms and floral shirts, and the men all had big bushy Tom Selleck mustaches.

“How’d you get them to talk to you?” he asked, making space for me on the bed again.

I took a sip of my water and grinned at him, thoroughly pleased with myself and my successful deception. “If they ask, we’re engaged, and I’m having your baby.”

His mouth hung open, so I did what any good pretend “girlfriend,” “fiancé,” “baby-mama” would do. I leaned over, and I kissed him.

Chapter 11

“Perdon, Mr. King, but there are no taxi cabs available right now,” one of the nurses said, after Derrick had finally been discharged by Dr. Garcia and given a seven-day prescription to help kill off the bug that threatened to ruin our trip. “The taxi company says it is an hour or more wait. We have a festival right now.”

I grumbled under my breath. The entire city of Cusco was built on a hill, and of course, our hostel had to be at the top of that hill, while the hospital was way down at the bottom.

Derrick whipped out his phone and brought up a map of the city, pinpointing our location and how far we were from the hostel. “Ah, it’s only about a thirty-minute walk. We can do it.”

I spun around and gaped at him. “We most certainly cannot. You most certainly cannot. You’re sick. You just got released from the hospital, and you want to go hike a small mountain?”

He slung my backpack over his shoulder and started walking down the cobblestone sidewalk, the ancient city before us looking like something out of a fairytale. “We’re about to hike an even bigger mountain in two days; we need to practice. Besides…” He checked behind him and then crossed the road. “You and the baby could use some fresh air.” And then he grabbed my hand and pulled me along.

“Let’s stop in here for a second.” He grinned after we’d been walking for no more than ten minutes, having passed a couple of grocery stores and souvenir shops set into the old stone buildings. “I want an alpaca blanket. They’re really nice.”

We ducked into the store and started to peruse the wares. A tiny old lady with a round face and friendly smile blinked back at us. She was wearing a wide-brimmed men’s hat and colorful woven skirts, while her hair was in two thick braids down over her shoulders. I’d noticed a lot of women around town with the exact same look; it seemed to be a Cusco thing. Derrick had been reading the guidebook in the hospital and had said they were Quechua women, decedents of the Incas.

“Hola.” She grinned, her cheeks so round that when she smiled her eyes became hidden.

“Hola.” I nodded, picking up and admiring a beautiful black and gray alpaca sweater. It was so soft, and I imagined really warm. Just then I heard a kerfuffle and yelling, followed by grunts, scuffling of shoes, and what sounded like something ripping, a few rows over. Suddenly a Peruvian man ran past me, the front of his shirt torn. His eyes went wide when he saw me, but he didn’t stop, tripping on the threshold but catching himself and taking off down the street.

Derrick came hustling out from where the man had emerged. “That guy tried to steal my bag…well, your bag.”

“What?”

He nodded, out of breath. “Yeah. Was saying the same thing as the guy that chased us through the streets of Lima. Asking for the bag. Bolso.”

My heat started to pound inside my chest. “Holy shit, how’d they find us up here?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, but whatever they think you have, it’s seriously important.”

The sweet little Quechua lady pulled on the sleeve of my sweater. “Senorita? Miss?”

I turned to look at her, giving Derrick a pleading look, hoping that he’d be able to translate for us. I nodded at her, encouraging her to continue.

She started speaking, and even if I spoke Spanish I probably wouldn’t have been able to understand her. The woman spoke faster than an auctioneer.

“What’d she say?” I asked, after watching Derrick nod.

“She says we’ll be attacked again if we leave. That the guy is waiting for us. She’s offered up her son to drive us to the hostel.”

I gaped at him. “How the heck did you manage to decipher that? She’s speaking a million miles a minute.”

He grinned. “I only caught about every fifth word, but I think I got the gist.” The woman pointed at the doorway, and a few seconds later an SUV pulled up, and a young Peruvian man, perhaps eighteen or so, jumped out.

“Hola.” He smiled, walking inside the little store, clutching his phone. “I am Diego. Would you like a ride?” I hadn’t noticed before, but the Quechua woman had her phone in her hand. Had she texted her son? Otherwise, how had he arrived so fast?

But she just smiled and nodded, shooing us toward her son with her hand.

Derrick and I exchanged looks. Could we trust them? What if they were in cahoots with the people who were after us? Oh God, now I was paranoid, thinking every Peruvian we met was after us.

“Should we?” I asked, not wanting to be rude, but also not sure if getting into a random SUV with a random person was such a good idea.

He let out a heavy sigh, his eyes shifting back and forth between the little Quechua lady and her son Diego. And he nodded. “I’m not sure we have a choice. We have to trust someone.”

“But he was waiting for us in here.”

While we were trying to figure out whether to trust these people or not, Diego was speaking to his mother.

“Excuse me,” Diego interrupted. “My mother wants me to tell you that the man who attacked your husband, he came in the back. We do not know him. And I was just outside in my car. I dropped my nephew back off at his mother’s house and am just returning to the store now.”

I nodded. “Thank you.” Okay, so their story checks out…kind of. Did we have any other choice at this point? There were no cabs available. If we walked Derrick would either keel over, and we’d be rushed back to the hospital, or we’d be mugged and possibly shanked in the streets, left for dead in some back alley. Oh God, now my mind was getting away from me.

Diego just gave me a patient smile. Could he read my mind?

I turned to Derrick. “It’s probably safer to catch a ride with Diego than walk. We don’t really have any other choice.”

His hand rested on my shoulder, and I noticed that his face was drawn down into a frown of discomfort. He was in pain. We had to leave; he should not be walking up such a hill having just been released from the hospital.

Derrick looked at Diego. “Okay, let’s go. We’re staying at Travesura.”

Diego nodded.

But I threw on the brakes. “Just a second.” And then I picked up the sweater I’d been admiring and turned to the Quechua lady. “Cuánto cuesta?” Two of the twenty Spanish words I knew.

She smiled. “Treinta y ocho.”

Crap, ocho was eight, what was treinta? Thirteen? Thirteen eight, what kind of amount was that?”

“Thirty-eight sols,” Derrick said quietly.

“Thirty-eight?”

“That’s about fifteen Canadian.” He took the sweater from me and studied it. “Seems fair if you ask me. It’s pretty decent quality. Looks like it will keep you warm.”

Hastily I fished my wallet out of my small purse and counted out the correct amount. I’d never been one for haggling, mostly because I was terrible at it. I was pleased that the woman didn’t ask an exorbitant price in an attempt to fleece me. So far, she seemed to be playing by the rules. So far, she seemed trustworthy.

I handed over the money, and she took it with another rosy-cheeked smile, asking for the sweater from me, only to fold it up and put it in a plastic bag. And then she turned around behind her to where a stack of hand-woven scarves lay folded in neat rows. She turned back to look at me and then back to the scarves, finally selecting a bright blue one, almost turquoise in color, with flecks of gold scattered throughout. And with another smile and a wink, she stuffed it into the bag, too.

“Regalo.” She nodded, handing me back the bag.

“It means gift,” Diego said.

I took the bag from her. “Gracias.” Meanwhile, sudden tears pricked the corner of my eyes, and I hastened to wipe them away.

“All right, we must go,” Diego said with a rush to his voice. “The man who attacked your husband, he could come back, and he could bring more people. We need to get you to the safety of your hostel now.” He quickly ushered us into the back of his waiting SUV.

We made our way up the steep incline toward the hostel. Derrick didn’t look very good, and I struggled with the idea of asking Diego to turn around and take us back to the hospital. But when he pulled up alongside the familiar red-painted door, with the brass plaque out front that said “Travesura Hostel International,” all I wanted to do was jump out, slam the front door and go hide under my bed.

“Here,” Diego said, handing me a card. “If you need help, or a ride again, you call me, okay?”

We thanked him and tried to offer him money, but he shook his head. “First ride is free. Next ride I charge you, okay?”

We laughed, and then thanked him again before quickly opening the door and flashing our wristbands at the camera. We were back inside the fortress in a matter of moments, breathing a small sigh of relief and a big thank you to Diego and his mother. Who knows what would have happened to us if they hadn’t helped?

When we finally got back to our room, I was at a bit of a loss as to what to do next. The last twenty-four hours had been an adrenaline-filled, rickety old wooden roller coaster in the dark. It was all the worst rides at all the major theme parks rolled into one. And now, after a series of unexpected and terrifying loop-de-loops and plummets, we found ourselves back at the starting gate, but with wilder hair than when we left and our lunch threatening to revolt back up and onto the floor.

I sat down on the bed, my bag from Diego’s mother between my legs sitting on the floor. I didn’t know what to do next. Should we even be going to Machu Picchu? Was it worth the risk? Someone was clearly after me for something. Was I safe anywhere anymore? It was only a matter of time before they sent someone into the hostel to steal my bag or tear it apart. Perhaps I’d just be better off handing it over when they asked, being rid of it, then I’d finally be rid of whomever it was that was following me.

Derrick came over and sat beside me. “You okay?”

I couldn’t say anything. Compared with him, I was right as rain. He’d just been in the hospital, poked and prodded as if he were some prize steer at the county fair. Not to mention, apparently he had some parasite trying to turn his insides to mush, so even though I couldn’t have been further from okay, I wasn’t about to let him know that.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat and nodded. “Yeah…I’m fine.”

He wasn’t buying it. A finger came up under my chin. “Piper…”

It was the eyes, those soul-piercing, heart-melting eyes. Like the sky right before a harsh and beautiful storm. I couldn’t lie to him any more than I could lie to myself, and then I crumpled against him, and the tears came. They came on like a monsoon until I was a snotty, blubbering mess in his lap, my whole body convulsing in wracking sobs as the emotions from the last several days all came to a head.

“It’s okay.” He hummed softly as he pet my head, while I continued to weep in his lap. “Everything is going to be okay. We’ll figure it out. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with me, okay?”

I lifted my head and wiped my wrist beneath my nose. I must have looked awful, and I said as much.

He chuckled. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that. I’m an absolute mess.”

His finger was back under my chin. “Listen to me. It’s going to be okay. We’ll get this thing sorted. Getting away to Machu Picchu tomorrow might be a good thing. Give us some time to figure things out. I highly doubt whoever is after you is going to send a lackey all the way to Aguas Calientes to track you down. They’ll just wait until you come back here, if anything.”

I rolled my eyes. “Oh great, a welcome-back party.”

He laughed. “It’s going to be okay.”

I nodded and let out a big exhale. “I hope you’re right.”

Then something happened. The air in the room changed, and I was no longer tired, no longer scared or nervous or drained from the loss of adrenaline. I was aroused. And I could see that Derrick was, too. As if someone had pumped pheromones in through the vents, the room was thick with the need for sex. We eyed each other as if the other were a choice cut of meat, ready to be devoured.

His hand came up, and he brushed a strand of hair off my face. It was the simplest of gestures and the lightest of touches, but it was enough to send a surge of electricity jolting through my body.

“Y-you just got out of the hospital.” Needing him so badly I could practically taste him, but not wanting to compromise his recovery.

His mouth turned up into a sinister smirk. “Doctor never said there was anything wrong with my cock, just my gut.”

I laughed. Touché.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.” That same hand started to slowly travel down my arm, dragging the strap of my tank top along with it. “If you’re too tired or too… upset.”

I rolled my bottom lip between my teeth. “I want to… I want to so badly.” I reached for him. He covered me, pinning me to the mattress beneath him. “You make me feel safe,” I breathed, as his hands began to peel away my clothes slowly.

A masculine growl rumbled through his chest as his teeth found my nipple. “I want to make you feel other things too.” He gave the needy bud a nice hard tug. I hissed in appreciation. “I want to make you feel good. I want to make you feel worshiped and satiated. I want your whole body to ache from having been fucked to within an inch of your sanity.”

Oh God, yes, please.

“I want to make you forget your name because you’ve come so many times screaming mine.”

Yes.

“I want to make you mine.”

Wait, what? But I didn’t have any time to think about that last statement, because the man whose proclamations left me lightheaded and tingling was kneeling up before me, naked and hard and poised to fuck.

I licked my lips at the sight of him. God, he was fucking perfect and perfect at fucking. I thought for sure he was going to order me up onto my knees, taking me from behind like the animal that he was. But instead, he assumed my position on the bed between the pillows.

“You’re on top.” He grinned, reaching for me. “I’m not sure if you’ve been on top yet, and I’d like for you to try. Most of the time I’ve been too consumed with fucking you senseless, and I just hammer you into mattresses or up and against the wall until you come. But now I want you to set the pace. I want to watch your tits jiggle as you ride me.”

I swung one leg over his body, straddling him, his cock pressing on my core, demanding sanctuary. I lifted up onto my knees and used my hand to help guide him home, moaning as he filled me, split me open and made room for himself inside me.

He bared his teeth and grinned, his hands coming down to my hips and urging me to begin rocking. “You’re so beautiful. So fucking beautiful.”

I bent down over his body, so we were kind of in reverse missionary. His pelvic bone ground against my clit while my nipples rubbed his chest. Everything felt really good, and I wasn’t going to last long. And then he did something very unexpected, at least unexpected for the moment.

His hand left my hip, and he cupped my face, our eyes locking as I rode him. “You’re safe, Piper. I won’t let anything bad happen to you… I promise. Okay?” A runaway tear sprinted its way down my cheek, but he quickly wiped it with his thumb and brought my mouth down to his, murmuring again against my lips. “You’re safe with me.”

Chapter 12

The next morning, we were picked up and packed away into a big van, with probably fifteen or so other Machu Picchu-destined tourists of varying age and ethnicity. We chose to leave our big backpacks at the hostel and just stuff enough necessities in our day bags (I’d had to buy a new one, seeing as my other bag had been stolen in Lima). Derrick, of course, had his camera bag as well, and I my purse, but otherwise we packed very lightly compared to the other passengers. I noticed a fair few rolling suitcases and even trunks stuffed into the back of the big bus.

It was a treacherous trip if I’d ever been on one, around mountains and cliffs, where there was nothing between us and the life-ending hundred-foot drops over the side into a ravine or a river. We passed snow-capped peaks and rolling hills, with random plots of inhabited farmland, or a tiny town made up of a few shacks and a corner store or a restaurant out in the middle of what seemed like nowhere. We stopped once for lunch, and then once again on the side of the road so everyone could pee. At first, I hadn’t understood why we were stopping. But then when the bus driver pointed at the dilapidated old shack just six feet off the highway, with a gaping hole in the ground inside, and a roll of soggy toilet paper sitting on the floor beside it, I realized I was supposed to pee inside that building. What the actual fuck?

And that wasn’t the weirdest part of it, oh, no. I watched as all the men on the bus wandered off in random directions, facing the bushes or a random tree. To the untrained or ignorant eye, it might look as though they were simply admiring nature, or pondering the wonders of the universe, but we all knew what was really going on. But the women, we were not nearly as lucky, forced to line up for this solitary three-walled shack, with a hole in the ground to do our business; all the while a little Quechua lady with a colorful hat, braids, and a floor-length skirt was collecting money. We had to PAY her to use her hole in the ground!

I shook my head when I realized what was going on, fury tasting acrid on my tongue. Like hell was I paying to use a hole on the ground, walls or no walls. I didn’t have to pee that bad, I’d hold it!

And hold it I did. Boy, did I hold it. It was another hour or so, maybe two — time seemed irrelevant and thus no longer really existed when our bus narrowly missed falling off the cliff and down into an icy river — to our dropping-off point. It was a place known (though I don’t think that was the actual name of the town) as Hydroelectrica. And when the bus finally stopped and everyone bailed off, I ran like a cheetah to the nearest bush where I copped a squat and peed, FOR FREE!

From Hydroelectrica we were told to follow the train tracks but stay off of them, as the train did still run, and that would take us to Aguas Calientes, also known as Machu Picchu Town. Fortunately, it wasn’t raining, and it was a flat walk through the bushes, with nothing but chatter and excitement for the following day’s adventures fueling us forward.

When we finally got to Aguas Calientes, my mouth dropped open. It was something you would expect to find in a whimsical fantasy movie, or where the trolls or elves in a fairy tale lived. It was set deep in a valley with a river rushing right through the middle and high, looming, rocky mountains threatening to close in all around, while the train tracks ran right through the center along the river. I found it positively magical. I actually did a little hop and skip as we made our way up through the narrow streets, with open concept restaurants and shops inviting you in, cobblestone paths and stairs, hanging awnings and big flower pots lining the paths to keep you from falling onto the train tracks.

We checked into our hotel and dumped our stuff in the room, deciding to take advantage of the last few hours of daylight and explore the city. Aguas Calientes might not be very big, but we quickly learned that it was confusing as hell. A series of bridges connected both sides of the town over the narrow river with its fast current and white water, while small side streets suddenly led to local markets and, if you kept walking, morphed into promenades with even more stores and restaurants, convenience stores and massage parlors. We wandered through one of the many markets, with rows and rows of stalls, shopkeepers selling everything you could imagine and more. Scarves and toques, blankets and bags, magnets and carved figures of alpacas, it was the tourist and souvenir enthusiast’s dream.

We made our way back up from the market toward our hotel, stopping in at a restaurant whose menu out front boasted lots of local dishes at reasonable prices, which according to the walking, talking tour guide I also let share my bed, was rare. Most restaurants in Aguas Calientes charged roughly double what they would in Cusco, because everything had to be brought in by train.

“Oh, my God,” Derrick said, turning his nose up while making a face as though he might suddenly gag. We were sipping wine and watching the world go by from our seats. The small street was filled with tourists and locals wandering around; it was so much fun to people-watch, even if the majority of the people were tourists just like us.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He shook his head. “I grew up on a cattle ranch, I’m a carnivore, but that’s just not right. I guess we know why this place was so reasonably priced.”

I spun around to see where he was looking. “What?” I asked more emphatically.

“That guy over there ordered the guinea pig, and look how they brought it out. Completely intact, belly up on the plate, hairless and roasted and still with its teeth.”

I gaped at him and craned my head around, trying to catch a glimpse. And then, sure enough, I did. I turned back to face him immediately, in complete disgust and not shy about showing it.

“I had guinea pigs as pets as a kid,” he said with a childish pout.

I looked down at my plate; I’d suddenly lost my appetite. “So did I.”

His face was drawn down into a contemplative frown for a moment or two, and then he lifted up his beer. “To Smokey and Beatrice… what was the name of your pig or pigs?”

I smiled and lifted my wine glass. “I had Jellybean and Molly.”

He gave one curt nod. “To Smokey, Beatrice, Jellybean and Molly. Who never ended up on anyone’s plate, but will remain forever in our hearts.” We clinked glasses and then each took a sip, smiling at one another over the rims. Smiles that said more than just sadness about our long-dead pets, or about our aversion to seeing rodents on a plate served alongside undercooked French fries, which seemed to be the norm here in Peru. They were smiles of understanding, of companionship and what we intended to do to one another later on back at the hotel.

Chapter 13

Machu Picchu promptly opened each day at six o’clock in the morning and closed each and every day at five in the afternoon, and although we had no intention of spending eleven hours on the mountaintop, we did want to get our money’s worth and make the most of this big, expensive adventure. Besides, I’d made a promise to Ray. I had to get to the top. If it hadn’t been for the promise, the plan, the fact that this was supposed to be my honeymoon, after everything that had taken place so far, and that maniacal drug-lords or gangsters were after me, I’d have packed up and headed for home long ago. But no, I had a promise to keep, I had a plan, and I intended to see it through. So we set our alarm for 4 a.m., ate a quick breakfast of instant oatmeal and banana — we’d purchased a few rations before retiring for the evening the night before — washed it all down with coffee, and set out for the mountain by four thirty, wanting to beat the rush.

Apparently, the majority of Machu Picchu visitors either hike the Inca Trail or catch the bus in Aguas Calientes, which takes you right up to the very top. But we were trying to be frugal, we’d already lost a lot on the trip, and we needed to count every penny, so we decided to hike up. But as it turned out, the term hike was a bit of an understatement, because what it really was, was 1,500 stairs straight up. Now add fifty minutes of torrential rain, and my green plastic poncho quickly morphed into a steaming sweat box of death while Derrick looked more like a hot mess of gorgeous, with his spiky eyelashes and his shirt sticking to his abs.

I had a mini, no, let’s call it, microscopic hissy fit around step 1,000 when we discovered the first covered resting spot, and it informed us with belittling glee that we only had 500 steps to go. We encountered no other tourists hiking up, only locals heading to work, and maybe all of ten people passed us coming down, which prompted us to start wondering if we were doing something wrong — if maybe we weren’t supposed to hike up.

Upon entering the monument, I felt slightly deflated. There was no majestic, iconic view. That first look is reserved for the mud-caked trekkers who spent the last five days on the Incan trail, with their backpacks, wet clothes, dehydrated food, and pricey Sherpas. But we made our way inside, and as I had hoped, the clouds did part, the sun came out, and I was finally granted my tiny little moment of bliss. Complete with a sudden warm gust of wind lifting the hair off my neck and into a whirl of yellow fire around my head.

We walked forward, and Derrick stopped, digging into his backpack and bringing out yet another book. I lifted one eyebrow, and he grinned. “Machu Picchu Guidebook. The Ultimate Traveler isn’t nearly in-depth enough.” I rolled my eyes; I bet he was going to be more informative than many of the guides. He wandered off toward the edge of a small ledge to get a better view, and I took the opportunity of sudden solace to observe my surroundings in peace.

A harsh sob caught in my throat as I slowly took it all in, took in the magic of the ancient ruins, the history, the immense feeling of getting to witness something so much greater than myself. The Incas had built a city on the top of the mountain, long before the days of cranes and wrecking balls and dump trucks. It was incredibly humbling, and I couldn’t believe I’d made it to the top. I was finally here. Finally, where I was supposed to be on this specific day. I’d fulfilled my promise. Carried out the plan. I was here for my honeymoon… it just wasn’t with Ray.

“Well, Ray,” I said under my breath, making sure that no one, not even Derrick, could hear me. “We made it. I made it. I’m here, as planned, as promised.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a vial the length of my pinky finger; it contained a small amount his ashes. They’d managed to recover his body, along with a few of the other crew members a short while after their boat had capsized, their bodies having washed up on a nearby island after the storm. I had been grateful in a way that they’d found him, but also horrified that he’d laid on a rocky arctic beach for so long, denied his final rest. But I knew he’d want to see it all, too, to spend time here, even if just in the afterlife.

After all, Machu Picchu and Peru for our anniversary had been his idea; he’d wanted to see it his entire life. He’d taken the course on the Incan culture while in university; he’d been the one who had done all the research and planned the trip nearly two years in advance. We were to hike the great Inca Trail all the way, five days sleeping in a tent and carrying our food on our back, with a guide and Sherpa. So, I guess I hadn’t done everything exactly as planned. But it was for this reason I’d wanted to hike up rather than take the bus. I wasn’t a camper. I would have done it for Ray, but I much prefer the comfort of a nice cozy bed that isn’t on the cold, hard ground. But I would have sucked it up and enjoyed it because I would have been with Ray, and that was what had mattered.

I opened the vial and waited until no one was around. Derrick was a busy bee snapping shots with his camera, and for the moment, no one was in my space. I poured the ashes out into my hand, whispered a final goodbye, and let them go on the breeze, tears burning my eyes as I watched my husband float away, up high into the sky. As I finally let him go.

“Ready to go?” Derrick asked, coming up behind me a few seconds later, wrapping an arm around me and planting a quick peck on my temple.

I hastily wiped my eyes with the back of my wrist and nodded. Ray was already gone, his ashes caught up in the gust of wind and seeing the ruins from the clouds. I said one last goodbye in my mind and then turned to go, nodding and plastering on a big grin as I followed Derrick down the path toward the first ancient doorway.

The place was incredible, to say the least. Inspiring and jaw-dropping at every turn. And my tour guide, with his nose buried in the book, rattling off information like Siri, was incredibly informative. Our first view was of the agricultural plaza, which was run by a posse of territorial alpacas. They didn’t appear to be afraid of humans, but I steered clear, standing at a safe distance and tossing on a giant fake smile when Derrick asked me to pose for a picture.

Machu Picchu is huge, and what we were expecting to take an hour or two to explore took closer to four. We would stop and read the guidebook, chat with other tourists, or if the guidebook seemed to be lagging, inconspicuously hang out and listen to a paid-for tour guide give his or her spiel about a certain room or funky-looking rock.

And then, just for good measure, and because we’d paid for it, we decided to put our quads and hammies through the wringer one more time and made our way up the foreboding big brother mountain Huayna Picchu. Another 1000-plus steps, steeper than the first fifteen hundred, and with a slew more people coming down and passing us slowpokes on their way up. But it was so worth it.

I had a mild touch of vertigo when we finally reached the top. It was a loooong way down. Machu Picchu looked like a tiny, elaborate ant farm, and there wasn’t any fencing or barricades between the throngs of tourists, bumping into one another for that “perfect shot” and a long fall and bone-shattering crash at the bottom. We spent roughly an hour up on Huayna Picchu, taking pictures and relaxing in the sun, but eventually, we knew we had to go back down.

It was on that last and final step, coming off the mountain, that Derrick stumbled and nearly fell head-first into a rock wall that I’m sure had at one point served as part of a house or church or something.

I grabbed him by the arm and helped him stand up. “Are you okay?”

He looked green; no, he looked gray, and his pallor was frightening, and I immediately ushered him over to a couple of big square rocks, instructing him to sit down. I took the backpack from him and brought out a water bottle, taking the cap off and handing it to him. He chugged it greedily, a few droplets making their way down his neck and onto his shirt.

“You okay?” I asked again. Panic threatened to unleash itself in my body if his answer was anything besides “absolutely.” We were on the top of a mountain, we’d just hiked two mountains, and he was still recovering from an infection. What had we been thinking doing those hikes?

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. “I’ll be okay. I’m…I’m just going to lie here for a bit, but I’ll be fine.” He slowly fell back against the rock and curled up into the fetal position, hugging himself, a wince of pain drawing his mouth and eyes tight.

“Where does it hurt?” I asked quietly, sitting down next to him and brushing his hair from his forehead. He didn’t have a fever, and his skin wasn’t clammy; these were both good signs.

“My stomach,” he groaned, curling up even tighter. “I think I may have overdone it.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “Uh, yeah, you think?” But then I immediately felt awful, realizing that both the first hike and Huayna Picchu had been my idea. They'd been Ray’s idea, but I’d needed to do them. Derrick was in pain because of me. “I’m sorry. I should never have made you climb up here, or do Huayna Picchu. This is my fault. I’m so sorry.”

He opened his eyes; his hand came up to cup my face. “This isn’t your fault. I did those things because I wanted to. I’m glad we’re sharing this experience together. But maybe just give me thirty minutes and then we’ll go, okay?”

I turned my face into his palm and nodded, and his lids fluttered shut. Checking his pulse one more time to make sure he was just resting, I let out a relieved sigh, hunkered down next to him, pulled out the guidebook and started to read.

It was roughly an hour or so later when Derrick finally roused and attempted to sit up. He’d fallen asleep, and even though he’d asked for thirty minutes, I was loath to wake him. And it was probably a good thing I hadn’t. His color was better, and the life was back in his eyes. He also no longer had that pinched face, the face he made when everything hurt.

“Ready to go?” he asked, having stood up and stretched, offering me his hand to help me to my feet.

“Should we see about taking the bus down? Might be best, seeing as you’re not feeling well.”

He shook his head. “It’s like ten dollars. We can go buy some wine and a decent meal each for the price of our tickets. Besides, it’s all downhill now. It won’t take nearly as long. I’ll be fine.” He reached for my hand and pulled me toward the exit. Meanwhile, all I could think about was the possibility of him keeling over halfway down the trail and me having to sling him over my back and Sherpa him down the mountain.

We were quiet for the first thirty minutes of the hike down. He’d given me another terrible fright, and I wasn’t quite sure how to handle it. I couldn’t lose him, not here, not now, not ever. I stuck close to him, offering to help him down any steep or slick rock, but he would just shake his head and say he was okay. So I’d clam up again, put my head down and power forward.

It was starting to spit rain again, and I asked him if he wanted my poncho, worried that he might catch a chill and suddenly face-plant in the mud, and I’d be left trying to perform CPR in a monsoon.

He spun around on the rock to look at me. “I’m okay, Piper, believe me. I don’t need a poncho. I don’t need help down. I’m okay.”

I swallowed and nodded, still not entirely convinced. He hits me with the news while he’s lying on a gurney that he was recovering from brain surgery. Fucking brain surgery. And then twenty minutes ago he’d been curled up in the fetal position on an ancient Incan rock, complaining of stomach pain. And not forty-eight hours ago, he’d been “donating” blood involuntarily to a pack of hungry Peruvian vampires in peach scrubs. I had every right and reason to doubt his reassurance and deflections. I’d thought more than once on this trip that he was going to die; my fears were not unfounded.

Suddenly, as they had on our way up the mountain, the skies opened up, and it started to rain. Heavy, unrelenting rain. We were drenched in seconds, and it was still almost forty minutes to the bottom of the mountain.

Derrick’s eyes caught mine as I blinked the water off my lashes, licking my lips while brushing my hair from my face. His shirt clung to him, defining each pec and ab, while the skin on his arms and neck glistened like polished bronze.

“Okay?” he asked. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not going to die.”

My lip trembled, while tears stung the back of my eyes. I couldn’t lose him. He reached for me, pulling me hard against his chest. Absorbing my fear. His hands drove into my hair, holding my face inches from him. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? You believe me?”

I nodded again, a sudden shiver racing down my spine.

His eyes shifted across my face, studying me as the rain continued to hammer down and around us. And then his mouth smashed against mine, obliterating any thought besides yes from my mind. Devouring me, savoring me, possessing me. He wasn’t going anywhere, because I wouldn’t let him.

I returned the kiss in kind and grappled at him, leaping up onto his hips as he ploughed us off the path and through the woods a few yards. He tossed my pack to the ground and then my back was slammed up against a tree, his hands roaming my body and caressing my breasts, pushing into me, showing me with his body how he felt.

I was hot for him. This needed to happen. I needed him now like I needed to breathe. I started to work his belt, and then the zipper on his shorts. His bags fell to the ground as he let his hands slide up my tank top, like he was desperate to have skin to skin. Everything was wet and slippery, and the way his hands skimmed across my body and up under my bra made me quiver with longing.

His teeth grazed my jaw. “Yes,” I panted, letting my head fall back against the tree, my eyes and mouth opening up and welcoming the falling sky.

My shorts were next, and within seconds they were off and dangled by an ankle, his cock poised at my entrance and ready to thrust. Moving my thong to the side, he drew his hand up between my folds, making sure I was good and wet for him, ready. And I was, I was so ready.

“Please...” I begged. Knowing he loved it when I begged, but also truly feeling the need to plead with him for my life. “Please.”

Pure masculine triumph smiled back at me, and then he bit my lip, lifted my hips and drove home.

I grunted from the impact. “Oh, God.” My back slammed into the tree, rough bark damp against my skin. “More… harder.”

He bared his teeth and started to pick up speed, slamming into me. Dominating me, taking me, captivating me. My whole body was trembling from the savagery of his passion, the brutality of his need. I wanted bruises, I wanted bite marks, and I wanted them to be from Derrick. I raked my teeth down his neck, followed by my tongue. Feeling the pulsing vein that ran beneath his salty skin.

I felt alive. On fire and so damned good. Every draw of his cock left me greedy for more, while my whole body sighed and submitted each time he filled me, welcoming him home, pulling him in. Derrick brought his hand between us again and started rubbing rough and erratic circles around my clit. His digits slipped easily through my slick folds, feeling them swell as my need for release grew. I felt the warmth of the orgasm begin to bloom deep in my belly, threatening to unleash and overthrow my entire being.

“Derrick,” I mewled, not sure I’d be able to hold on much longer, and not sure if I wanted to. It was all becoming too much to handle. I needed to let go.

“Piper…” he said. “Come for me.” And then once again, maybe because he loved it, or perhaps because he knew I did, either way the vampire re-emerged, and he clamped down on my shoulder, snarling as he came.

I broke with a sharp cry as the climax blossomed and unfurled inside of me, spearing through me and rocking my very soul. I panted and sighed as the sensation washed over me, feeling him pulse as I contracted around him, milking him, claiming him, taking everything he had to give me.

A slippery wet forehead fell to mine while his body started to shake. I opened my eyes, rain blurring my vision. He was laughing.

I wasn’t even sure what was funny, but I started to laugh, too. “What’s so funny?” Our bodies were still connected.

He continued to chuckle, rubbing his nose against mine while our lips softly slid across one another. “Just how maniacal you make me. Since first seeing you in the airport, a flurry of gypsy skirts and mermaid hair, I’ve been consumed with this need to take you, hard and often. And hell, if I’m not trying my damnedest to do that.” He shook his head. “You’re driving me crazy.”

I blinked up at him. I’d felt the same way. I’d wanted him the moment I saw him, too. Thought about his body covering mine. His tongue between my legs, his hands on my breasts. And since that first day in Miraflores, I hadn’t been able to get enough. The man was a drug.

I flicked my tongue out and grazed it against his bottom lip. “Crazy’s just fine when the sex is as hot as this.”

He growled low and feral in his throat. “You’re going to ruin me, Piper.”

“Ruin you, or reinvent you?” I snagged his lip between my teeth and pulled.

Another growl rumbled, this time deep in his chest, and I felt him begin to grow again inside of me. The man was absolutely insatiable.

“Oh, little Piper…” He bucked up into me while a wily grin caught on his mouth as he took in my sudden wide eyes from how hard he already was again. “I think the word we’re looking for here is resurrect.” He started to slam into me again. “Because, baby, before I met you… I was damn near dead.”

Chapter 14

By the time we got back down to Aguas Calientes, it was dark and still raining. Most of the tourists were heading to the hot springs, as it was the thing to do. After all, Aguas Calientes directly translated to “Hot Water,” so they had to have hot water somewhere. I’d asked Derrick if he wanted to join the throngs, but the look he’d given me was pure animal, and instead he said, and I quote, “I’m going to spend the rest of the night with my head between your legs. Fuck the hot springs.” He grabbed me by the soggy arm and whisked me upstairs to our hotel room.

We shared a long and sexy shower reminiscent of our steamy shower back at Travesura in Lima, where he’d sunk to his knees and plastered me against the wall, eating me out with constant and helpless fascination, unable to get his fill. I thought for sure we’d get dressed and head out to find some food, that his promise of a night of endless orgasms had been a slight exaggeration, and that we’d have sex later on again that night. But no. The man had not been lying. He said he wasn’t hungry…for food, and that we were not leaving our hotel room again until checkout the next day. And he tossed me onto the bed and practically dove face first into my pussy.

I lost track of how many orgasms I had.

I think I may have dozed off, or he’d tongue-fucked me to the point of blacking out, but either way, a slight dip in the mattress had me groggily blinking my eyes open, only to see a sexy blur angling up on to his elbow, smiling at me.

“Is it morning?” I yawned, shifting slightly to face him. Wincing as my inner thighs brushed against one another. He hadn’t shaved since Lima, and I was a little chafed. At the time it’d felt incredible, but now it was a tad raw.

He chuckled. “No. Just shy of midnight.”

“Oh.”

His hand came up and started drawing little erotic circles on my bare hip, I moaned and scooted closer to him. “Can I ask you something?” I pressed my body against his.

“Mhmm.”

“What was…” I swallowed, unsure how to finish my question without offending him. “Um… what was all that up on the mountain about? Up against the tree… twice.” His mouth turned up into a wolfish grin, while a thick and eager erection prodded my hip. But I needed to ask my question; I couldn’t be distracted. “And then tonight… I don’t remember the last time I’ve had this many orgasms. A-and… and I’m not complaining… it just seems—” I lifted one shoulder, then averted my gaze. “It just seems like you’re thanking me. Are you thanking me?”

“Yes.”

My eyes flashed open, and I pulled away. But he tugged me close; a deep and manly chuckle shaking his bare chest. “Just listen, okay?”

I nodded. “Okay…”

“I told you in the hospital that I’m recovering from recent brain surgery.”

“Yeah…”

“Well, I’m also recently divorced. Like the ink is barely dry, recently divorced.”

My wide eyes much have betrayed me, because a knowing smirk twisted at the corner of his mouth. “She was sleeping with her boss.”

I gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, well, in the end, it was a blessing in disguise. Apparently, she’d already been sleeping with him before I was diagnosed, and then all throughout my treatment and recovery.”

“H-how did you find out?”

He rolled his eyes. “She finally told me.”

“And… did she want to get back together?”

He shook his head. “No, she asked for a divorce.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“When you told me you were a lawyer, I nearly hit the bricks,” he said, managing a hangdog expression.

My mouth opened, but nothing besides air came out.

“Mariah was a lawyer, too,” he continued. “But unlike you, she was cold and reserved. Life was about facts and statistics. The woman left very little room for fun… or, so I thought. When I’d been diagnosed with a brain tumor, she hadn’t even shed a tear. She’d immediately started pumping the doctor for information on treatment and procedures and what my chances were. She read up on similar cases, did research and sought out second opinions. And even though I knew that it was her way of showing she cared, because I don’t doubt that she did...” He made a rueful face. “Or maybe it was the guilt of shtupping her boss, who knows? But she was an emotionless robot about it all, and that’s not what I wanted, what I needed.”

I cupped his cheek. “You wanted to process it with the person you loved. Talk things through. Talk about the two of you and your relationship, not the tumor.”

He nodded. “See, you get it. Sure, I needed a day or so to just think on it myself, kind of like I did after the robbery, going quiet and introspective. But then, I wanted to talk things through with my wife and discuss how it would affect us. But she’d just jumped right into fixing things and hadn’t even given me a moment to come to terms with the fact that a tennis ball was currently growing in my head.”

“I still don’t understand what that has to do with me, though,” I said, shaking my head.

He smiled and leaned into my touch. I loved the feeling of his stubbly cheeks, and I couldn’t help but stroke his scruff with my thumb. “Even in our five years together, Mariah never looked at me the way you looked at me the night in the hospital or today up on the mountain. There was never the fear of losing me in her eyes, never the concern, never the worry. Probably because she already had someone else, so the thought of losing me wasn’t that big of a deal to her.” I made a horrified face, but he just shrugged. “Who knows? But I never really knew where I stood with my wife, whether she loved me as much as I loved her, or… whether she loved me at all.”

I inched my face forward and brushed my lips against his, not sure what else to say. This was just a weeklong fling, right?

“You’re so sweet and kind and full of emotion, Piper, and having lived with a robot for so many years, I find your raw feelings and enthusiasm about the smallest things so refreshing.”

I chuckled softly. “I’m just finally starting to feel normal again and be happy about things again… it’s been a tough eighteen months.”

His hand fell on top of mine. “Who?”

I swallowed. “My husband.”

“I’m sorry.”

I swallowed again and nodded. “He was a biologist and on a field assignment up in the Arctic Circle. A storm hit, and their boat capsized. We’d been married for just over six months. This trip to Machu Picchu was supposed to be for our second anniversary, seeing as we never went on a honeymoon. He was too busy finishing up his master’s.”

“That’s why you kept saying, ‘I can’t lose you, too’?”

I nodded as a sob caught in my throat. A warm, stray tear wended its way down my cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb.

“Thank you for sharing with me. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

I managed a small smile. “Thank you for telling me about your wife. And I’m sorry she cheated on you. Some women are serious bitches.”

He sighed. “Some women can be. Just like some men can be assholes. We’re all human.”

“Well, if it helps at all, I kind of lied back at the hostel anyway. I worked at a very prestigious law firm back home, it’s where I did my articling, and then I was called to the bar, wrote it, passed and then immediately quit. I’ve never really worked a day in my life as a lawyer. Ray died the day before I was set to start my articling job. They gave me six months of leave to sort out my life. I worked for them for a year, wrote my exam and quit. I realized even before I took the job that it wasn’t for me. Ray knew before I even started law school that it wasn’t for me. He thought I should have been a teacher.” I snorted. “So, I never really was a lawyer. I mean I am one. But not really.”

He gave me a poignant smile. “Lawyer or not, you’re still one of the kindest, warmest, sweetest people I’ve ever met. I didn’t know they still made people like you, so genuine and down-to-earth.”

“I had no idea about your wife or your tumor…” I whispered, not sure what else to say.

He shrugged. “It’s not exactly something I go around advertising. It’s not how I define myself.”

I nodded shyly, still unsure what else to say.

“I mean you don’t want to be defined as a widow. And I don’t want to be defined as brain tumor-divorced guy. These are parts of who we are, and they’ve helped shape the kind of people we are today, but they don’t define us. They’re simply one small part of who we are as a whole.”

I swallowed and nodded again, overcome with another wave of emotion from how deep and methodical he was being. And he was completely right. I didn’t want people labeling me as a widow. I was a widow, but there’s still so much more to me than that. But some people are unable to see past such things. Just like I’m sure some people have a hard time seeing past the fact that Derrick is barely thirty-one and already divorced, or that he had a brain tumor.

“I see more of you than just those small parts,” I said softly.

“And I see more of you as well.”

I took a deep breath and pushed the threatening tears away. “Your ex-wife, she doesn’t deserve you anyway. You’re too good for her.”

His laugh was thick and husky in his throat as he rolled me onto my back. “And what about you? Are you too good for me?”

A sigh escaped me as I lifted my hips up to meet his, wrapping my legs around his waist and letting my heel fall into the crevice of his butt cheeks. “I think we’re good for each other. We’re licking each other’s wounds.”

A wicked laugh in his chest had my core quivering. “Well, I’d much rather lick something else… but first…” He reached beneath his pillow and pulled out the two silk scarves I’d bought at the market last night. Oh goody!

I gave him a mock look of surprise. “And what exactly do you have planned for those?”

He lifted my wrists while kneeling up over me, straddling my torso. “I think you know exactly what I have planned, Ms. Valentine. I think you bought these scarves with this exact little scene in mind.” He’d caught me; I totally had. We didn’t have any toys or trinkets to play with, not even a decent paddle, but a little bit of inventive bondage certainly wasn’t out of the question, was it?

His hands slid up and down my arm, bringing with them the slippery silk. He wrapped one around both my wrists, binding them together, and then securing them both to the headboard. And with one swift, but dirty little kiss, he slipped the second scarf over my eyes.

“Can you see?”

“No.”

“Good. I want to thank you, Piper. Thank you for helping me realize that there are still good, decent, kind women out there. Women with hearts and passions, women who feel. Before you, I’d honestly thought I’d just go through the rest of my life fucking for the sake of an orgasm, but that I’d never be able to trust or let myself open up to anyone again, allow myself to be vulnerable.”

My chest tightened from his words, while I felt more tears prick behind my eyes. All I could do was swallow, and even that was a challenge.

His hands started roaming my body, kneading and massaging, warming my skin, though it was already an inferno.

“I thought Mariah had ruined me. But apparently, she hadn’t. It just took the right kind of woman to show me what real compassion is.”

“Derrick.” I licked my lips. He couldn’t be about to say what I think he was about to say, could he? We’d only known each other for six days. I mean sure, it’d been a tumultuous six days, with more excitement and adventure than I’d had in my entire twenty-eight years, but…it’d only been a week.

But he shushed me. “I can’t imagine the kind of pain you’re in right now, Piper. Losing your husband, to be a widow so young. But I’m glad that you’re letting me make you feel good. If that’s all you need, all you want from me, I’m okay with that. Because you make me feel good, too, and I think right now, we both just want to feel good. We both just need to feel good.”

I’d been so caught up in his words, in the sentiment and emotions that poured from his heart, that I hadn’t even realized he’d slithered down my body and was no longer straddling me. A warm, velvety tongue swept up my folds, and I melted deeper into the mattress. It didn’t matter how many times I’d already come that night, each one was as good, if not better than the last, and I was ready and willing for every one.

Fingers scissored and swirled inside of me, pumping and coaxing out my release. While his tongue, oh God, that tongue, that exquisite, that diabolical, that magnificent muscle brought me over and over to the brink, only to leave me teetering there, begging (because the man loved it when I begged) for sweet release. But instead, he’d just pull me back from the edge with a little pinch to my butt cheek or a bite to my inner thigh, earning the squeak or girlie whimper from me he craved.

It was all too much, all too incredible, and then I had a thought, a wonderful thought. It’d only been a week, but I already felt like the man was more than just a fling, more than just a stamp on the passport. He’d opened up to me, laid himself bare, and in turn, I’d done the same. And he knew I liked it rough and a little kinky; it wouldn’t hurt to ask, would it? Worst case scenario, he’d say “no,” and we’d drop it and resume, no harm, no foul.

It was trippy not being able to see anything. All my other senses slowly started becoming more astute. The sound of the bed squeaking beneath my bucking hips, or the random kerfuffle of other tourists in the hallway, a variable smorgasbord of languages and accents. While the smell in the room, thick with sex and the dampness of our clothes as they dried against the radiator, hit me like a runaway train. But despite all those other smells, along with the peanut butter and apples we’d been eating in between my orgasms, was the smell of Derrick. It was always there, fresh and clean and…inviting.

“Um.” I sighed when his tireless tongue snaked its way between my pussy lips to get at my core.

“Mhmm?” The hum nearly made me knee him in the skull.

“H-have you… um… have you ever had anal sex?”

He stopped. Completely. Oh shit, did I hit a nerve? Was he going to think I was one sick chick, and leave me shackled to the bed, blindfolded and naked, while he packed up and headed home?

“Yes,” he said, his voice just a breath above a whisper. “Have you?”

I nodded and licked my lips. “Yeah.”

“And did you like it?”

I nodded again, my heart feeling like it was going to leap right out of my chest. I wiggled my butt on the bed; the sheets damp beneath my cheeks, dear God I was a sopping wet mess. “Yeah.” I finally managed to say. “I did… I do.”

“Hmm. And is that something you want to do tonight?”

Swallowing, I squared my shoulders and took a deep breath. “If you’re interested.”

I wish I could have seen his face, but I’m pretty sure I could tell what kind of diabolical smile was on those glistening lips. “Then your wish is my command.” He leaped up from his spot on the bed and released my hands from the headboard. They remained tied together, and the blindfold was still over my eyes, so he helped me scramble onto all fours.

“You’re so beautiful.” His voice a distant purr, he must have been across the room. “Your pretty little ass in the air. Asking to be taken, to be punished.”

Oh, my God…yes, yes, please!

“Does it need to be punished, Piper?”

I mewled. “Yes. Please, oh please punish me.” Giving him what he wanted, because he was giving me what I wanted.

Well holy hell. Thick and warm and nasty, he slipped his tongue in my cleft, licking me from behind. Through my folds until he found my clit, and then back again. Torturing me, teasing me, tormenting me. And I just kept asking for more. And then just to take it a step further, his mouth continued to travel up and up, until he reached my soft rosette. He sucked, and he kissed, and he lapped at my sensitive flesh, my forbidden flesh. Until I was convulsing mess on the bed, having spasms from the ecstasy, from the new sensation, because nobody, not even Ray, had put his mouth on me there before. And it was wicked.

Just as quick as the tsunami of bliss had come upon me, it vanished, and he pulled his mouth from me, only to replace it with a finger. I pushed out with my muscles to grant him access, and he slipped in easily. Forgotten feelings came flooding back as he filled me, my body’s memory and synapses firing at warp speed as I began bucking into his hand, eager for another finger. He didn’t even have his mouth on me anymore, it was just two fingers in my ass, and damn if I wasn’t close again.

A hand snaked around in front of me and started working on my clit, while the two fingers in my ass were removed and soon the great push of something longer, something bigger, something more commanding and consuming demanded refuge.

But then, he stopped and pulled away. I whimpered and tried to crane my neck around to look at him, hoping he wasn’t having second thoughts. I was blindfolded and couldn’t see anything. But I could imagine. I heard a rummaging sound. He was probably looking for something in his bag, a condom maybe? And I bet his sexy ass was up in the air wiggling just slightly while his thick cock lay heavy against his belly and a shiny, delicious looking bead of pre-cum threatened to drip off the crown and onto the floor. I licked my lips, wanting to lap up that liquid, not waste a drop. The rustling noise stopped, and I heard his big man feet pad back across the floor toward me.

“Lube,” he said matter-of-factly. I heard the lid of the bottle open, and then, the cool and silky liquid fell against my searing flesh. He rubbed it around with his fingers, working it into my tight hole, priming me, getting me ready. But I’d had sex without lube before, and been fine; the man had already primed me so well with his tongue, I knew we wouldn’t have had any problems. But nonetheless, I appreciated the concern and attention and showed him as much by pushing back into his fingers and letting out a groan of need as he slipped in a second digit.

“Patience, greedy girl. Otherwise, I might have to punish that lovely ass of yours.”

Yes! Yes, please!

He removed his fingers, and I heard the bottle of lube fall haphazardly to the bed beside me. And then, that familiar pressure, a slippery, hard rod, poked my delicate hole, ordering me to let him in. I pushed my muscles out again and took a deep breath, slowly exhaling while my body relaxed. I was no timid little virgin when it came to ass-play, but it’d been a while, and even before, with Ray, there was sometimes that initial snap of pain. I braced myself as he made his way in and through the first ring of muscles. I was tight, and it hurt.

He growled. “Oh, God. You’re so fucking tight. So… so fucking tight.”

“M-more.”

Another groan and he continued to push. He breached the second ring of muscles, and then things were easier, things were good. I let out a contented sigh and pushed back into him, loving the feeling of his pubic hair against my butt.

But he didn’t move. Why wasn’t he moving?

It came out of nowhere. A slight whistle through the air, followed by a harsh and wet slap to my left cheek. I yelped.

“W-what the fuck was that?”

“A switch. I found it in the bush this afternoon on our walk back. You were busy ogling a flower. What do you think?”

What did I think? I think I wanted another one. Holy hell, did I ever feel alive!

“I-I think I want another one.”

“Are you begging for me to spank you?”

I smiled. “Yes…please Derrick, please fuck me in the ass and spank me.”

“Fuck, you dirty little thing, you’re going to make me blow my load just from that sexy little voice of yours, saying such filthy things.”

I smiled again and then wiggled my butt. “More, please.”

“Your wish is my command.”

Three more hard and fast blows came down, two to the right and one more to the left. The sting quickly bloomed into a warm tingle that seeped through my body and pooled between my legs. I felt a drip of arousal make its way down my inner thigh. I was so freaking close.

The clatter of wood hitting the tile floor told me he’d tossed it to the ground, was he going to use his hand now? But before I could blink, think or breathe Derrick started fucking me in the ass. Hammering into me with hard and measured thrusts. Filling me, while his hand continued to rub my clit, giving me that little bit of extra attention, that little bit of extra stimulation that I needed to get me up and over the edge of bliss.

“Oh God, Derrick!” I couldn’t see a damn thing, and my hands were sweaty and bound up in the silk, but somehow that all added to the moment, added to the intensity of what we were doing, to the debauchery of it all. I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t hold, couldn’t delay it any longer. I bowed my back, bit my lip and let go.

Sounds, smells, feelings, everything was heightened as my body fell over the cliff and into the abyss, into the swirling vortex of pleasure. The orgasm was like a black hole, sucking me forward until I was all but lost to the sensation, to all the sensations. My clit pulsed, my pussy clenched, and my nipples ached, and even in the throes of ecstasy, I wanted more. I wanted it all. I begged for it all.

“Fuck!” He let out a feral roar as he pumped hard and fast into me, his rhythm faltering as he approached his own pinnacle.

“Oh...” was all that came out of my mouth. One long, breathy oh. My mind was blank. I’d forgotten what words sounded like, forgot colors and shapes; I probably wouldn’t be able to tell you my name if you’d have asked me mid-orgasm, I would have said “his” if I’d been able to say anything. Because at that moment I was Derrick’s. Completely. Nothing else mattered besides him, and way he made me feel. The pleasure was all-consuming. My body shuddered around him as the orgasm continued to unravel, working its way outward until even my eyelids and the tips of my ears seemed to be in rapture.

I heard him grunt and snarl behind me, and teeth, once again, came down hard, only this time it was more around my ribcage, and it hurt like hell. I squeezed myself around him as he found his release, pulling him in deeper.

A few seconds later he slumped against my back, the hand between my legs having ceased, while the bite mark on my ribs stung like a bitch.

He slipped out and then padded to the bathroom, coming back a second later with a warm washcloth. He cleaned me up and went to work removing the scarves.

I blinked a couple of times, letting my eyes readjust to the light before I found his face. He looked almost wary. “You okay?” he finally asked, climbing into bed beside me and pulling the covers up to his waist.

I stood up from the bed, a little wobbly on my legs, boneless from all my orgasms. “Yeah, why?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Just wanted to make sure you don’t regret what we just did.”

I gave him the sassiest smile I could before turning my back to him, wriggling my butt just as I was about to head into the bathroom. I stopped and craned my neck around the corner to look at him. “There hasn’t been one thing, since I met you, that I have regretted. Tonight was no different.” And then, with a wink and smile, I shut the door so I could pee.

I climbed back into bed a few moments later and snuggled up close. He was warm and smelled incredible, and I quickly felt the need for sleep eclipsing me. It’d been another roller-coaster day, but thankfully we’d managed to climb off the ride unscathed.

Derrick’s fingers slowly ran up the length of my spine while his chest rose and fell in even breaths beneath my head. Two people, cuddled up like familiar lovers, but who really knew very little about one another. And I wanted to change that. I wasn’t sure what the next few days would bring, and whether we’d stay in contact, or part ways and never speak again. My chest tightened with that thought so I quickly pushed it out of my head. We still had a couple of days; there was no sense getting depressed about it now.

I drew evocative little figure eights around his nipples. “Can I ask you something?” I knew he wasn’t asleep because the way he was tickling my back was too precise, too laden with naughty intent to be done while sleeping. Every time he swept his hand down my spine he’d dip it a little lower, caressing the crevice of my butt. No, this man was wide awake and knew exactly what he was up to.

“Sure.” He yawned, not bothering to stop what he was doing.

“How are you so…” I had to pick my words carefully; I didn’t want to offend him. “Where’d you learn… Are you a trained Dom?”

A sexy chuckle thundered in his chest, and it bobbed slightly beneath my ear. “No…well, not really.” I lifted my head and looked at him, He just winked and, using his free hand, guided my head back down to his chest. “My ex was a closet submissive. Bossy as fuck and with an ice -cold heart during the day, ruling the corporate world with an iron fist. And then at night she wanted to kiss your feet and do your bidding… but she wanted an actual Dom/sub relationship, and that just wasn’t for me. In hindsight, I probably did see the signs years ago and just ignored them, but now, looking back, we’re just too different to have ever worked out. Whether she cheated on me and then filed for divorce or not, we were doomed to fail.”

“I’m sorry your wife cheated on you,” I murmured, twirling my finger through the hair that ran from his navel down beneath the sheets.

“She wanted to be led around naked on a leash with a ball-gag in her mouth and paraded around at fetish and BDSM parties. And that is not my thing. We played… a lot. And I became very good at it, but I never formally trained as a Dom, even though Mariah begged me to. I’m all for some play and control, but at the end of the day, you’re your own boss. I’m going to ask you if you’re okay with something, I’m not going to just to flog your ass without your consent first.”

I gave him a quizzical look. There was more to this story.

He exhaled loudly. “Mariah is also into rape roleplay, which I wasn’t down for. My cousin, who I am very close with, was raped as a teenager, at the Calgary Stampede. We were both working there, and she’d been accosted by a couple of drunken cowboys. She came and found me right after it happened, and I’ll never be able to get the image of her torn clothes, tear-stained face and beaten body out of my mind. So, I always ask for consent first. Always ask if you’re cool with what I plan to do. And that had pissed my ex off. She said I was a shitty Dom.”

“Well I don’t think you’re a shitty Dom,” I said, running my hand up the length of his chest. “I think you’re a very respectful one. A gentlemanly Dom.”

He snorted. “Thanks. And Mariah’s big into erotic asphyxiation, kept asking me to choke her. And that’s another hard limit for me. I nearly died as a kid from choking. I was horsing around with my brothers in the barn, got tangled up in some ropes and fell over the mezzanine. I don’t do choking.”

My eyes bugged out of my head from the sudden information overload; this Mariah woman sounded like a piece of work. I shook my head but didn’t look at him; I remained focused on his bellybutton hair. Something told me he found it easier to open up when we weren’t looking at each other.

“I don’t do choking either,” I whispered.

His hand came up, and he pet my head. “Good. Turns out her boss, the guy she was cheating on me with, is a highly-revered Dom in the BDSM community, and now they’re together. He chokes her, pretends to rape her, leads her ass around on a leash with a ball-gag in her mouth. Flogs her until she practically passes out on a St. Andrews cross, in front of dozens of people, and the two are apparently very happy. And I’m happy for them. He gives her what I was unwilling to, and now I’m free to do as I please. It sucks, but in the end, I’m grateful it happened now, before we had kids. A divorce is messy enough as it is, and to throw kids into the middle of it would have been heartbreaking.

“They certainly can be.” I thought about my own parents’ divorce and how ugly it had gotten. My brother and I had been teenagers when it’d happened, but it was still devastating to watch, possibly even more so because of our age, because we understood more of what was going on and why my mother spent hours crying in her room. “Wh-why didn’t you mention the fact that your ex-wife cheated on you when I brought up my ex cheating on me? The guy who saw the call girls?”

He lifted one shoulder, and then resumed tickling my back. “I wasn’t ready to share. Just because you were, didn’t mean I was.”

Why did that sting?

I clenched my jaw. “Oh, okay.”

“Piper, look at me.”

I did as he ordered.

He didn’t scream alpha like Chase or Robert; you didn’t see his commanding presence from a mile away like the other guys. No, Derrick’s power was deeper. He had this unwavering confidence and magnetism, and you just couldn’t help but be drawn to him and do as he said. But as I got to know him more, I started to see that he didn’t really reveal the true dominant to just anyone. The man was fun and jovial and the life of the party when we were with the friends we made along the way, but when we were together, especially behind closed doors, that’s when the true dominant, the lion, came out, in full mane-shaking glory.

“I’m a private person, okay?”

I swallowed and nodded. “Okay.” I suddenly felt like I’d overstepped and asked him too many questions. Was he upset I was being so nosy?

“I’ve shared a lot with you, A LOT. But we were in a crowd of people, or in the hostel cafeteria, and I’m not someone who likes to talk about my personal life out in public. In here, with you, I’ll open up. But… I prefer to keep my dirty laundry away from curious eyes.”

I nodded again. “Okay.”

He looked down at me and cupped my face. “I’m not mad, though, I promise. I’m willing to open up to the right person in the right place. That’s all. But you have that look in your eye. I’m enjoying opening up to you, getting to know you. Okay?”

I swallowed. “Okay.”

His mouth slid up into a salacious and sexy grin. “Do I need to stick my tongue in your ass again to get you to believe me?”

My eyes flew open wide. “Uh…”

Suddenly I found myself on my back, his big frame hovering above me, my arms pinned over my head, but with just one of his hands, while the other one slid down between my breasts, past my navel, and rested on my mound. He dipped one finger inside and then brought it up to his lips. “Mmmm,” he hummed. “Wet and ready, just how I like it.” His eyes, stormy gray and penetrating, found mine. He held my gaze for a second; his nostrils flared as he reared up and slammed home.

Chapter 15

We woke up the next day to more driving rain. And it didn’t let up or stop for our entire daylong trip back to Cusco. The sky was dark, almost black. Even during midday, the clouds hung low and ominous, big droplets falling hard and heavy and drenching everything in seconds. I secretly hoped that I’d get to ride on a train. The track that ran through the center of town had been so quaint and old world, I couldn’t wait to hop aboard and hear the whistle and feel the side-to-side jostle as we made our way through the Andes.

And we were on the train, and it did whistle and jostle, and when I looked out the window and saw looming peaks, jagged and foreboding, I was happy that we’d opted NOT to hike the Inca trail and instead embrace our twenty-first-century selves and the glory of technology and rapid transit. But when the smell of damp coat and exhausted backpacker settled in the air, the stuffy, musty, recycled air around the cramped train car, I began to re-think things.

Derrick’s hand found mine. “Not long now, I think.”

I rested my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, positively exhausted, even though I’d done nothing but sit all day. “What happens after we get off the train?” I yawned, a sudden chill catching me and making me shiver. He reached for the alpaca blanket he’d bought and draped it over the both of us.

“I think we catch a bus back to Cusco.”

I nodded and snuggled in tight to him. “Good.”

I wasn’t asleep, because how on earth could I sleep on the train? It was noisy, stinky and shook like a paint mixer, but I was in some kind of half-unconscious purgatory when a curious hand made its way between my legs. My eyes flashed open, and I looked up at Derrick. Not wanting to cause too much of a scene, I didn’t bother removing my head from his shoulder.

His eyes smoldered, and with his free hand he brought one finger to his lips and shushed me. His big blanket covered us, and my small day backpack lay nestled on my lap and against my chest, so even though I was very much aware of his exploratory fingers, no one else on the train car could possibly be.

I wore loose fitting cargo pants; they earned zero points in the fashion department but were a solid ten when it came to function and comfort. Derrick’s finger slid beneath the waistband and, thanks to the looseness of the pants, he had ample room to work. Slowly, very slowly, he began rubbing devious little circles around my clit, so gentle, so slight but with more than enough enthusiasm to make my whole body spark to wanton life.

I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. His head rested against mine, and his eyes were closed; the man was pretending to sleep! Meanwhile, beneath the covers, he was tormenting my body until I was just about ready to explode. Was I supposed to come? Would he be upset if I didn’t? Would he punish me later if I wasn’t able to come? Oh, maybe I wanted to be punished. Hmm.

“What’s uh…what’s the plan?” I whispered, pretending to kiss his cheek, and deciding I didn’t need to pretend at all, and I pecked him on the side of the face.

He tilted his head down, his lips next to my ear. To anyone watching we would just appear to be a young couple in love, innocently chatting, and we were chatting, only there wasn’t a damned thing innocent about it.

“You’re going to come for me, and you’re going to come hard. In a train, full of people, you’re going to get your rocks off, and only you and I will know. And if you don’t, I’m going to tan your ass with my belt when we get back to Cusco, is that clear?”

Oh, my God, yes, please! I swallowed and nodded.

“I need to hear it, Piper, say it.” The dominant, the sexy authoritarian, demanding and not requesting. I wanted to please him so badly.

“Yes , I understand.”

“Good.” His fingers continued their exquisite torture. Around and around and around they went, brushing my clit and then delving deeper into my cleft, back and forth, around and around, up and down, fucking me senseless until I could barely stand it. I was slick with need and wanted desperately to buck my hips up into his hand, but I knew I couldn’t; it would draw far too much attention.

“You’re close,” he said, his voice a breath above a whisper. “Get ready to come for me, baby.” He pinched my clit, and I shattered into a million tiny pieces. All I could do was close my eyes and pray nobody noticed my ragged breathing. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and let the waves of pleasure ripple through me as I rode out the orgasm.

“Good girl.” He pecked me on the forehead. “Good girl.”

I whimpered softly as the climax dissolved, leaving my body limp and boneless, and then I slumped against him and closed my eyes with a sigh.

“You are the sexiest thing I’ve ever met,” he said into my hair, planting another kiss to my temple this time and pulling me closer. “But you weren’t quiet enough. I saw the man across the aisle look up, so I’m still going to punish you when we get back to Cusco.”

My head snapped up, and my eyes widened, while my heartbeat, which had returned to rest, picked up the pace again. He just grinned at me, pulled me close again and winked. “And you’re going to love it.”

It was pouring rain when we arrived in the tiny town of Ollantaytambo, only to stand there, for over an hour, in the dark and the cold, waiting for our bus. It had apparently gotten stuck in the mud on some mountaintop dirt road and was being rescued by another bus. I was shivering uncontrollably and soaked from head to toe, with nary a cover or a building to crawl and hide under. It was nighttime, and the town, if you could even call it that, was closed up and quiet.

“It says here...” Derrick started, his nose once again buried in his ratty copy of The Ultimate Traveler, as we stood there huddled up under my tiny one-person travel umbrella. He started prattling on about more facts, but I was too cold, too soaked to my skin to listen.

I rolled my eyes but was unable to hide my smile. Despite how bloody cold it was, the man was so mercurial. One minute he was this sultry Dom, using his fingers to get me off in the middle of a crowded train and threatening to spank me if I made a sound, and then the next minute he’s all sexy nerd. He was seriously the whole damn package, smart, funny, kind and an absolute beast in the sack.

He caught me chuckling at him, and his head popped up, his eyes turning dark, or at least I think they did. It was hard to tell; the only light we had outside came from the one lonely streetlamp, and even that was flickering.

“Are you laughing at me, Miss Valentine?”

I shook my head, though my whole body was shaking, both from the cold and from suppressed laughter. “No, not me, not me at all.”

He stuffed his book in his backpack and then grabbed me by the arm, whisking me through the crowd, our hiking boots sloshing in the mud. We made our way around a small building, and although I wasn’t entirely confident of what it was, based on the way it peaked at the back I would guess it was a small church. It was almost pitch black now, we couldn’t see the lonely streetlamp flickering, and because of the rain, there was no moon and no stars. My face was drenched, as were my clothes, but that didn’t seem to stop Derrick from ripping off my bag and throwing me up against the wall, his mouth, wet and hot coming down hard against mine.

“I want you, here and now,” he said with a deep growl as he began making quick work of the drawstring on my pants. I heard the zip and fumble of fabric as he struggled to free himself, but wet clothes and wet hands combined with the cold made for a challenge. And what was supposed to be quick and dirty, and fucking in seconds, awkwardly turned into the two of us shivering and struggling to pull our very wet pants down our legs.

Eventually, we managed. Determination trumped frustration, and within a minute or two we were both standing there with only one pant leg on, the other leg bare and quickly becoming numb. Derrick’s eyes found mine again, his face nothing more than shadows, but I didn’t have to see his face to feel his savage need, to feel his craving for me, because I felt it too.

I leaped up onto his hips, and he ploughed me into the wall, sheathing himself to the hilt. My back slammed against the rough damp wood, scratching my butt with each hard thrust, while my hair clung to my neck and face.

“Oh God!” His teeth found my chin and his hands cupped my ass, his fingers kneading my frozen flesh.

“Yes…” I panted. “Oh God, yes, please.”

“Can’t…get enough. I can’t get enough of you. Never…never enough.”

I squeezed my muscles around him, drawing him in, wanting more of him, all of him. My hands clawed up his back, searching for skin. I lifted up the back of his shirt and sweater, letting my hands delve beneath the fabric, finally finding flesh, the toned muscles contracting as he bucked into me with all his might. The man was insatiable —and I loved it!

We heard the crunch of gravel off in the distance and the noise and voices of what could only be people getting ready to board a recently arrived bus. We were far enough away that no one would be able to hear us, and we couldn’t make out any specifics, but the new light off in the distance, what I could only assume were headlights, had us picking up vigor, eager to finish but knowing we also needed to run.

A wave of panic rushed over me. “We…we have to go.” But everything felt so good, too good to stop. His pelvic bone rubbed against my clit just right, while his cock hit me deep, deep inside. I bit my lip to contain my screams.

“Just…a second.” His breath was ragged and his voice strained as he wedged one hand between us, his fingers, like they had on the train, rubbing roughly across my clit, only this time they were ice cold, and the sudden temperature change made me gasp. “I’m going to come, babe.” His thrusts began to wane while his fingers picked up speed. “Can you come?”

I nodded. “I-I think so.”

“Okay…”

Three more pumps, my head hitting the wood behind me, he brought my clit between his finger and thumb and pinched, and I went off like a rocket. Sharp teeth came down on my neck as he found his own release, his body stilling as he poured himself into me, groaning low and masculine and so freaking sexy. He licked his bite mark, not that he drew blood, and then pulled away, righting himself and tucking himself

back into his pants. I quickly ducked off into the shadows to pee, having to squat and shake, just like I’d been forced to do up on Machu Picchu, shaking my head with a smile at this man and his unconventional location choices for making whoopee.

I pulled my pants back up and found my backpack, joining him next to the building. He reached for my hand, and without a word, we took off running toward the bus.

Only it wasn’t a bus at all, it was a minivan, one suitable for a small summer camp, and it was just beginning to pull away as we ran up. Derrick started waving his arms emphatically and then practically hurled himself in front of the vehicle, only I pulled him back by the strap of his bag and started rapping on the window with my frozen knuckles.

The van stopped, and the man in the passenger seat opened the door.

“Sorry, dude,” Derrick said, flashing him a bright but drenched grin. “We went off to find shelter.”

The man opened the sliding door of the van, and the whole cab lit up. Roughly twelve wet, cold and exhausted faces stared back at us. Was there room for two more? Apparently, there was, because everybody shuffled and squeezed, and eventually I found myself wedged in tight next to Derrick and a girl with dreadlocks. We all had our bags on our laps, the smell from the train nothing compared to the smell in the van. It was as though the train had been the eau de toilette of backpackers and the van was the essential oil, highly concentrated and potent. Wet coats, dirty bodies, and B.O. mixed and mingled to create a scent all its own. I dug one of my scarves out of my bag and wrapped it around my neck, sinking my neck down until my mouth and nose were covered, creating kind of a filter.

A hand found mine amongst the layers of saturated fabric and bags, cold fingers linking with mine. I squeezed back and then let my head fall to his shoulder. We were due to fly back to Lima tomorrow afternoon. This was our last night together. His flight to Santiago was the following night, and when we got back to Cusco, I was going to book a flight home. I was done with Peru. Though I couldn’t say, I was eager to get back to reality and the boring, unfulfilling jobless life that awaited me.

I was thankful all of a sudden for the dark and quiet van, everyone inside feeling the same way —bone tired. And although I was tired of a lot of things, tired from the day, tired of running, tired of looking over my shoulder and wondering why the hell I was a target, I wasn’t tired of Derrick. And the lone tear that made its way down my cheek as we bumped along the dark and muddy road was evidence that I wasn’t just not tired of him. I was falling for him as well. I was falling hard.

Chapter 16

“Hostel Travesura!” the van driver announced a couple of hours later. I’d been in and out of sleep, dozing and dreaming, rousing just barely each time we stopped to drop off other weary backpackers. I hadn’t even been paying attention to where we were, or that we’d made it back to Cusco, so when I heard the name of our hostel, I nearly jumped out of my skin.

“Dude, this isn’t our hostel,” Derrick said, leaning forward and resting his hand on the driver’s arm. “We’re at the top of the hill.”

The driver just shook his head and pointed to the door. Derrick looked at the other transportation coordinator sitting in the front seat. “We’re not getting out here. You can take us to our hostel, just like you’ve taken everyone else to their hostel.”

“No, no, you walk. Only twenty minutes. We are running out of gas and do not have enough to go all the way back up to the top.”

Derrick’s eyes turned saucer size. “Then why the hell didn’t you drop us off sooner, when we were already at the top? We’ll wait for you to get gas, we’re not walking in the rain and dark.” He was trying to remain as calm and as pleasant as possible, but there was a minor edge and mild, almost indiscernible threat to his tone.

Both men in the front shook their heads. “No,” the driver said. “You get out now.”

“Come on, mate,” an Aussie from the back yawned. “Just get out. We’re all tired. We all just want to shower and get to bed. Just do as he says.”

I spun around and gave a venomous stare to the man who decided to provide us with his two cents. I recognized him from Machu Picchu and Aguas Calientes. He was a Class-A douche, patronizing the locals and acting like a horse’s ass any chance he got.

He bobbed his eyebrows at me in challenge. “Turn that pretty head back around, sweetheart, and lose the scowl. I’m only saying what the rest of us are thinking.”

“No, you’re being a selfish prick,” I snapped back. “We paid the same amount as you for this tour package, and we’re not going to be bullied into getting out before the agreement has been reached. We’re to be dropped off at our hostel.”

I didn’t want to say anything, but after the week we’d had, being accosted in stores and in the street, I would fight kicking and screaming to stay in the van and not have to walk up the hill in the freezing rain in the middle of the night to the hostel. The men after us had already proven that they’d be willing to either follow me or hire out in Cusco to get what they wanted. Who’s to say they weren’t waiting for us or following us now? Who’s to say they weren’t in cahoots with our driver? I’d become suspicious of everyone, and until proven otherwise I considered every person we met guilty of trying to rob me.

A hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped at first, but when I realized it was Derrick, I settled down. “It’s okay, Piper. I’ve got this.” And then he leaned over and tucked his head between the two men in the front seat, the three of them whispering back and forth.

I strained to listen, but then realized that I wouldn’t understand what they were saying anyway, so instead I just spun back around and glared at the Aussie douche-nugget. He returned my vitriolic stare, while the rest of the passengers seemed either bored with the confrontation or scared straight.

The van’s engine roared to life, and the driver pulled out into the street. Derrick leaned back and wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close and kissing my temple. It was such a simple gesture, but it’d become our thing, and I loved it.

“What’d you say to them?” I whispered, slouching against him while putting my bag on the empty seat beside me. The van was only about half-full now, and we no longer had to hug our belongings to our chest.

He turned his mouth to my ear. “I bribed them. Plus, I pulled a page out of your playbook and told them you were pregnant.” I gaped at him, but he was all smiles, shrugging and pulling my head back down to his shoulder. “They were very apologetic, but I looked at the gas tank, and it’s pretty much on “Empty,” so it might be a little while before we get back to the hostel, as they have to stop and get gas.”

I snuggled in tight to him and sighed. “I don’t care. We’re dry in here; we’d be wet out there. As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter where we are.” And then, my eyes went wide, and I stilled; had I just said that out loud? I’d been thinking that, dear God, it’d been all I’d been thinking about for the last several hours as we quietly sat side-by-side, groggy and huddled up under his big alpaca blanket. Even though the van reeked and I was tired and cold, none of it mattered because I was with Derrick, and when I was with him, I was happy.

I was petrified stiff and so embarrassed of my proclamation that I didn’t dare sneak a peek at him. I just focused straight ahead on the clock on the front dash, it said seven-thirty. Was it only seven-thirty? It felt so much later; it felt closer to midnight. An embarrassed heat wormed its way up my chest and into my face. He still hadn’t said anything. Was he going to ignore it? Was that better or worse? I couldn’t decide.

“Me, too,” he finally said, kissing the top of my head. “I’m happy wherever you are, too.”

It was nearly another hour before we arrived at Hostel Travesura, having dropped off every other van occupant, including the whiny Aussie in the back, gone into town to get gas, and then ventured back up to the top of the hill to our hostel.

We thanked the drivers, even though we didn’t have to, not after the way they’d treated us. We gave them an extra twenty dollars or whatever the equivalent was in sols, grabbed our bags and left. But not before they both offered me their heartfelt congratulations on our “bebé.” I thanked them again, and just for good measure, gave my belly an affectionate rub before we lifted our wrists to the security camera and were welcomed back inside the fortress.

We checked back in and were given the key to our new room. A different one than before, but thankfully it was also farther away from the main hall where all the parties were, and by the sounds of it, a rip-roaring one was taking place that night.

I bent down to grab my big backpack from the storage room when a bunch of stuff started to spill out as I lifted it onto my shoulder. I put it down, and that’s when I noticed a giant slash through the side, as if someone had taken a knife or a machete to it. I looked around, and a couple of other backpacks, all the same color and style as mine, perhaps slightly varying in size or brand, had their sides also slashed open. What the hell?

I marched out into the lobby, where Derrick started talking with the man at the front desk. The two had somehow developed a friendly relationship, chatting and laughing whenever we’d come and go.

“Um… what happened here?” I asked, not wanting to experience a repeat of The Inca Treasure where they called the cops on me because I’d lost my cool.

The man’s face went beet red. “Uh…”

Derrick followed me into the storage room, and the terrified Peruvian man followed him. “What happened?”

“My bag and a bunch of other blue ones like it have all been slashed open. Look, there is stuff everywhere.” I turned back to the front desk guy, finally catching a glimpse of his name tag, it said Joe. “What happened here, Joe?”

He swallowed and licked his lips. “Last night, two men came here. They said they were here to fix a broken toilet, as one of the toilets in the dorm stopped working. But they were not maintenance men, and one held Luisa at gunpoint while the other went through the bags. We have an emergency button, and Luisa pressed it, and the police were called. But the men ran away when they heard the sirens.” His eyes darted back and forth between Derrick and I. “I am very sorry. But I do not think they took something…I mean, anything. They were looking for something very…particular I think. Do you know?”

Derrick’s eyes found mine, and we spoke without speaking. He turned back to Joe and rested a hand on his shoulder. “It’s no biggie, dude. As long as no one was hurt. Is Luisa okay?”

Joe nodded, the tension in his shoulders dissolving as he realized we weren’t upset. “She is okay, very…shaken up, but not hurt.”

Derrick asked Joe if they had any duct tape or something to secure my bag, because otherwise it was going to be useless, and I’d have to board the plane tomorrow with garbage bags. Joe nodded, and the two took off back to the front desk while I busied myself collecting all my things that were strewn about, muttering and cursing in frustration under my breath.

“What are they looking for?” I shrieked and threw things like a maniacal banshee once we were safely away in our own room. My fingers trembled as I ripped everything out of my backpack for the umpteenth time. “I’ve shredded this bag and can’t find anything out of the ordinary. And now they’ve literally shredded my bag and didn’t find anything. What the fuck?”

Derrick just stared at me and shook his head. “Do you want to cut it up? I can go and ask for a knife or scissors. We can get you a new backpack tomorrow. Our flight doesn’t leave until the late afternoon.”

Now it was my turn to shake my head. “No. How could someone have cut and then sewn up a hole in my bag in the three minutes I was gone to the bathroom? If that was even when it happened. Stupid Eduardo.” I clenched my jaw until it ached. “And if Robert wasn’t able to find anything, with his super spy ninja training, then there’s not anything in here.”

He grabbed his backpack, which was actually a similar make as mine, but red, and started checking it for hidden compartments or flaps. The floor of our room was no longer visible. It was just clothes and towels, books and random backpacker paraphernalia. And then he jammed his hand down, and his eyes flew up to me.

“What?” I was doing the smell test on a sweater I’d forgotten I’d packed and wrinkled my nose… I needed to do laundry.

“Does your backpack have this gap at the back between the hard panel and the canvas? There’s some barely visible, pretty much perfectly hidden Velcro keeping them intact, but you can definitely shove stuff down there. It’d be easy to miss, even for a super spy ninja.” His mouth twisted up into an amused grin, but then he quickly sobered when I gave him a scowl. This was not the time to be funny or cute.

I picked my poor mangled backpack up off the floor and opened it up at the top, pulling at the hard back panel, and suddenly the space was as clear as day. How had we not noticed it before? I rammed my hand down between the panel and the canvas, fishing around. If something was hidden, this had to be where it was; there was nowhere else. My fingers grazed something. A bag. A canvas bag. I heaved it up and out into the light. Holy crap! I flung the package onto the bed, fear tasting bitter on my tongue. I had not packed this, whatever it was. Someone had stashed it in my bag, and now someone else was trying to retrieve it.

“What is it?” Derrick asked.

I picked the package up off the bed, holding it out at arm’s length in case it decided to grow legs and bite me. I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

Slowly, I started to unwrap the small black bag, and out tumbled a well-wrapped paper and taped package. Using my teeth and then a plastic knife we found among all the stuff on the floor, we cut away the tape. I unfurled the paper and tape. Then, it was a thick and heavy piece of something, like what the dental hygienist drapes over you before they x-ray your mouth. That’s the closest thing I could come to for a comparison. Was it a giant piece of lead? They’d wrapped lead around the package? What on earth had I just smuggled?

I pulled the lead away and tossed it onto the bed. Next, it was foil. I tore at the foil. Whoever it was had gone to rather extreme measures to conceal whatever was in this bag. Once I finally got through the layers of foil, out tumbled a manila envelope. I opened the envelope and came face to face with a giant wad of cash. I pulled the money out. It was in neat rolls. All hundreds and fifty-dollar U.S. bills. Derrick’s eyes went wide as I dumped the contents of the envelope out onto the bed. And last but not least, after around twenty or thirty rolls of bills scattered out, came a small plastic bag. A plastic bag FULL of pills. There had to have been several hundred inside. Drugs had been in my backpack. I’d smuggled drugs, and money, probably drug money or laundered money, across international borders. I could have wound up in a Peruvian prison. I began to shake uncontrollably, and then, the dry heaving started. I could no longer breathe.

Strong, warm hands fell to my back as I hunched over, my hands on my knees, gasping for air, choking on nothing. “We need to call Chase,” he said softly, his hand rubbing rhythmic circles and drawing my hair up and out of my face in case I ended up puking, because at the moment it was not out of the question.

“What are the pills? What the hell did I just smuggle?” I stood up and faced him. “Oh, my God, I’m a drug trafficker!”

His hands moved to my shoulders, the pressure was grounding, and I couldn’t help but feel just a little bit better. “You’re not a drug trafficker.”

“Yes, I am. I just trafficked drugs from one country to another! Does Peru observe capital punishment? Oh, God, could I go to jail? Do they hang people or do firing squad? I think Indonesia still does the firing squad. I read that somewhere recently. So, it does still exist in the twenty-first century.”

He started to shush me. “You were a mule. An innocent mule. One who had no idea she was in possession of an illegal substance or money when she crossed borders.” He rubbed the back of his neck while shaking his head. “Boy, are we lucky they didn’t see those pills on the scanner. I guess that’s what the lead was for.”

I mewled. “Oh, God… I’m a mule. How is that any better? I should have known he was too nice to be trusted. You can’t trust anyone anymore!”

He unrolled one of the wads of cash and did a quick count. “There’s a thousand dollars here in this roll.” He lined up all the rolls and counted them. “Twenty-five. There’s twenty-five thousand dollars here.” Wasn’t the limit ten thousand dollars? Unless declared? Holy shit, I’d committed another crime.

He grabbed my phone off the bed and pushed it into my hands. “Call Chase. He’ll know what to do.”

I nodded, and with quivering digits, I found his contact information and hit dial.

“Hart,” came a grisly bark into the receiver.

“Uh…Chase…it’s Piper. Piper Valentine…from Lima…well…uh, Miraflores. You um—”

“Piper! Everything okay?”

I shook my head but then realized he couldn’t see me. “No,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. “No, nothing is all right. Everything is not all right. Everything is wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” His tone was softer, almost big-brother-like. “Deep breaths. Slow down. It’s going to be okay. Tell me what happened.”

I inhaled and exhaled a few times, letting the air fill my lungs and clear my head. I nodded again. “We, um…we were attacked again, this time here in Cusco, that was a few days ago. When we got back from Aguas Calientes just a few hours ago, we found out that someone had gotten into the hostel and held the front desk girl up at gunpoint, while their accomplice cut open a bunch of backpacks. We think they were looking for my bag.” I swallowed and used a stray sock, I’m not even sure whose it was, to wipe up my eyes. I hoped it was at least a semi-clean sock. “So Derrick and I tore my bag apart again, and we found a compartment I hadn’t known about before…and…and we found a package of money…lots of money. Twenty-five thousand dollars and…and pills.”

“Fentanyl.”

“I think so. Robert…he said that they’re having issues with that here in Peru right now. Coc—”

Derrick stopped me. The walls in such an antiquated place were paper-thin, and we didn’t want to risk being overheard, so we went into the bathroom and shut the door.

“Who’s Robert?” Chase asked gruffly.

Oh, right, he didn’t know about our other incident. I filled him in on our movie theater escape and on Navy SEALs Robert and Aaron. Chase didn’t say much; he just grunted and said he’d look into it. I heard the quiet and rhythmic tap-tapping of fingers on a keyboard and wondered if he was trying to find something on them that moment. I highly doubted he’d find anything; men like the three of them weren’t found unless they wanted to be.

“We’ve discovered that The Inca Treasure is a hub or a front for distributing this new drug. But they’re using the dark web now for all their communication. Someone must have tipped them off to our bugs and taps, so we’ve had a harder time keeping track of their comings and goings. You’re not the first mule we’ve intercepted, just the first one we can tie to the hostel in Panama and The Inca Treasure.”

I tasted bile when he called me a mule. Derrick pulled me against him and took the phone; my hands had started to shake again.

“H-how’d they find me here, though?”

I heard him exhale. “I don’t know...is there a tracker in with the pills?”

We held up the bag and checked. “No.”

“Okay…how many pills are there?” Chase asked.

“A lot, man,” Derrick said. “Hundreds.”

“When do you leave Cusco?”

“W-we’re set to fly out tomorrow afternoon,” I whispered, not wanting to spend another minute in the same room as the pills. But we couldn’t very well flush them or get rid of them. Could we call the police?

“Stay where you are. Don’t leave the hotel for anything, okay?”

I nodded.

“Okay.” Derrick smiled.

“I’m procuring a charter. I’ll be there tomorrow morning, okay? You’re at Hostel Travesura, Cusco?”

I nodded again.

Derrick gave me a pitying look, while his hand resumed its comforting massage on my back. “Yep.”

“Okay. For now, just hide the pills and the cash. The toilet tank, or under the bed. Don’t act suspicious or weird. Go about your business, but don’t leave the safety of the hostel. And don’t let housekeeping in, either.”

My head just continued to bob. I’d lost the ability to speak.

“Can do, man,” Derrick said.

Chase made a noise in his throat before speaking again. “Okay. And hey, Piper?”

My head snapped up. “Yeah?”

“It’ll be okay, I promise.”

I swallowed, fresh tears stinging my eyes. “Okay.”

Chapter 17

I showered. But the water, despite how unbearably hot I made it, and the white scalding rage that flowed through my veins, neither of them did much to quell the chill that ran rampant through my bones. And the debacle that was this entire trip was so deeply embedded in my skin that even the harshest of loofas wouldn’t be able to scrub me clean.

I was violated, so completely and utterly violated. I could be in prison right now, facing God only knows what kind of sentence, for trafficking illegal drugs across international borders. And all because of Eduardo. I had half a mind to jump on the next plane back to Panama and go and tear a strip off of him, but what good would it do? What good would any of it do, besides have him possibly call the cops on me, and then, I’d wind up in Panamanian prison instead of a Peruvian one. But no, I’d promised Derrick I wouldn’t do anything reckless again, and I intended to honor that promise.

So, despite every instinct I had to go full steam ahead into the raging inferno and start throwing daggers, pitchforks and whatever other pointy object I could get my hands one, I had to be level-headed about this. I needed to follow Derrick and Chase’s lead, do as I was told and get the ever-loving fuck out of Peru.

I was towel-drying my hair when there as a light knock on the door. Even though this man knew my body more intimately than most, we still weren’t quite there, where he could just barge in unannounced. A woman needed a few secrets.

I wrapped the towel around my body and opened the door for him. “It’s all yours,” I sighed, brushing past him, staring at the small pile of clothes in the middle of the bed that I’d deemed “clean enough to wear again” and hoping that some pajamas were in the mix.

He grabbed my arm and stopped me. “Piper.” I lifted my eyes to meet his gaze. “On the bed.”

But I shrugged him off; I wasn’t in the mood. “No, not tonight, I’m not into it. Okay? I just want this all to be over. I just want to get the hell out of here. I just want to go home.”

“On the bed now.” His voice low and commanding. “I’m not asking.”

I shot him a steely glare, but he didn’t back down. The man was a Dominant to his core, especially when it came to things behind closed doors, and even though he claimed he’d never trained as one, I could tell he was a quick learner and could probably out Dom some of the most dommiest Doms. “I’m not going to tell you again.” I clenched my jaw but moved toward the bed. “Lose the towel.” My back snapped ramrod straight, and I looked at him. He met me with a hard stare, daring me to defy him again.

I clenched my teeth but did as I was told. I let the towel drop to the floor and then climbed onto the bed with the grace of a pissed off feline, glaring at him the entire time.

“Now…” The edge gone from his voice, only to be replaced with a deep and husky warmth that quickly spread from my ears into my chest and belly and down between my legs. “Seeing as this is our last night together, I figured we ought to make it memorable. I’d like for you to remember me every time you go to sit down for the next several days. Remember my hand, my mouth, my touch, my cock… remember all of it.”

Fuck, he was right, this was our last night together. I’d been feeling melancholy about it on the train and in the van, excited to take our sexual exploration to the next level, one last time. But the robbery, my slashed bag, and finding out I was a drug mule had pushed all thoughts of sexy, dirty fun out of my mind completely, and I was simply ready for the day to be over. But it couldn’t be over. If it was over, then it meant I was one minute closer to saying goodbye to Derrick for good.

I swallowed the hard lump that formed in my throat. All the fury I’d felt a moment ago was disappearing, leaving nothing but sadness. I’d only known this man a week, but in that week, he’d managed to save me in so many ways and help me open my heart up to new possibilities again, open my heart up to second chances.

A warm hand started to trail along my ribs and back, down toward my buttocks and the backs of my thighs, and then his lips followed. Searing hot kisses replaced his hands, and then a tongue, warm and velvety, wedged its way between my legs. I pushed into his face and spread my knees, tilting my hips down so he could get better access.

“So sweet.” A lone finger began probing my needy core. “I want to taste every inch of your skin tonight, imprint your moans on my brain so that I never forget the way my name sounds coming from your lips.”

My breathing was ragged as I knelt there on all fours, his tongue massaging my clit while his finger pumped. If any other man spoke like that to me, I’d burst out laughing, I loved dirty talk, but this was something else. This wasn’t dirty talk; this was dirty poetry. And it was hot as hell but at the same time incredibly heart-rending, because I knew it all to be true.

I was already close, so close, just about to tip over the edge when a whistle through the air drew my attention away and a hard and solid smack came down on my left butt cheek. I yelped and flipped my head around to look at him. It was his belt!

He gave my clit one more flick with his tongue before standing up next to the bed. “Turn around face the headboard, Piper. I’m going to spank you now with my belt. Is that okay?”

“Considering that you’ve already done it once…” I sassed, wiggling my butt in front of him.

I heard him groan behind me, and his hand came out, and he ran a finger beneath my cheek, right where it meets the thigh. “Are you sassing me?”

“No.” Yes, yes, I was.

“Good.” I could tell he was trying hard to be serious; there was a glimmer of humor in his tone. “Now, are you okay if I spank you again with the belt? I should have asked before I did it the first time, but I was going for the element of surprise.”

I wiggled my butt again. “Yes, I’m okay with it.” I knew he wanted me to beg him, and seeing as it was our last night together and he was going to give me everything I wanted and more, orgasms upon orgasms upon more orgasms, I’d give him something, too. “Please spank me, Derrick, please. I’m begging you.” Pressing my butt higher into the air toward him.

Another growl. Men were so easy.

His exhale was ragged and strained. “Holy fuck! You are seriously the perfect woman.” He hit me with the belt again, this time across the other cheek. I yipped, but not nearly as loud, the pain quickly dissipating and building into a lovely warmth, spreading across my skin and through my body.

“More, please.”

Three more came in rapid fire, one on each cheek again, in a slightly different spot than the last, and then one across both cheeks, across the meatiest part of my butt. I hissed and moaned and pressed my ass into the air again, while my pussy clenched with need and I felt the tell-tale trickle of arousal begin to drip its way down my inner thigh.

“You are so fucking perfect,” he groaned, his lips coming down on top of where he’d just spanked me, kissing away any lasting bite of pain. “So perfect.” His hand kneaded and massaged my smarting flesh while his mouth continued to explore. And then his tongue was back on me. Inside and out, plundering my core with a new and driving need. Until my clit throbbed with each lick, swelling and screaming out for more. The man was everywhere, his hands, his mouth. He couldn’t get enough, and neither could I.

He fell into a bit of a delicious, but tormenting, pattern for a while. Fucking me with his mouth until I was but a breath away from release, only to rear back and spank me with the belt. Each time giving to me harder and giving me more, only to then massage and caress my tingling skin until it was warm and happy. But good as it felt, I wanted more, I wanted more of him. I wanted to feel his body on top of mine, his lips on my lips, his cock in my pussy. This was our last night together, and I wanted to be connected in every way possible.

I was panting, struggling for breath, while sweat misted my chest and forehead. “Fuck me, please. I need you inside me.”

He made an unidentifiable animal noise in his throat. The belt was tossed to the ground while the sound of a zipper and jeans being slipped off made me lick my lips in anticipation. I thought, hoped, craved that he was going to take me from behind. But instead, he flipped me onto my back and hoisted me up to the top of the bed, leaving me spread eagle in between the pillows. His gaze raked me, dark gray and soul-piercing. Even though I was naked, I felt even more stripped, even more laid bare than that. The man was seeing all of me.

His Adam’s apple bobbed slowly in his throat as he continued to stare at me, sudden emotion taking hold of his voice. “I’m uh…I’m going to go have a shower. Be right back.” And then, without a word, he ducked into the bathroom and shut the door, leaving me wet and wondering what the hell just happened.

Chapter 18

I wasn’t entirely sure what was going on. One minute we were playing and Derrick was tanning my ass with a leather belt, eating me out until I was a panting, sloppy mess, shrieking for release, and then, all of a sudden, he announced he needed a shower and sprinted off to the bathroom, shutting the door. Was he mad at me? Had I done something wrong? I was so confused, so completely and utterly confused about what had just happened, and hoping to God that when he came out of the shower he could explain things to me and our night together wasn’t going to be entirely ruined.

I was beginning to catch a chill, he’d been in there for a while, so I drew the blankets up over my body and snuggled into the pillows, my eyes closing and the dreams coming before I even knew what was happening.

I felt the covers pull across me, and the light on the nightstand flicked off. My eyes fluttered open to a dark room, a shadowy lump lying next to me in bed. I reached for him. He was warm and smelled incredible. Thankfully he moved into my arms, and the gap between us closed.

“Did I do something wrong?” How had we gone from wild, hot and passionate to him leaving me hanging, seconds from orgasm?

His breath was minty-fresh as he exhaled. “No.”

I looked up into his face, but I couldn’t really get a read on his expression. “Th-then what just happened?”

He exhaled again. “What’s going on with us, Piper?”

“I…I don’t know what you mean.”

“What are we?”

He wanted to have that talk NOW? I blinked into the darkness. “I don’t know…two people who met on an airplane, have had a ridiculous week of crazy sex, Incan architecture and dangerous encounters with homicidal drug dealers?”

“That’s it?”

I pushed out of his arms and sat up, turning on the lamp on my nightstand. “Of course, that’s not it. I have feelings for you, feelings I didn’t think I’d ever have again, and certainly not after only knowing someone for seven days. But you’re going to Santiago tomorrow, and I’m going home. I just need to book my flight before we go to sleep, I keep forgetting. This is our last night together, right? This is a fling, that’s all.” It was a struggle to get that last sentence out, and my throat choked and squeaked while my heart felt like it was being ripped from my chest and brutally manhandled.

His eyes were pure fire, gray dancing fire in the soft lamplight, as he stared me down, taking in my words and the feelings I was holding back.

He nodded. “All right then, well, as long as we know what we are.” He rolled on top of me, his cock already hard and thick, laying demandingly at the juncture of my thighs. I went to say something, to ask him what the hell was going on and what had changed, but he captured my unspoken words with his mouth; devouring me and my questions, my concerns and my true feelings, the deep and scary feelings that sat right next to my heart, begging to be let in.

Unlike earlier when he’d used the belt, alternating between pain and pleasure, playing my body, toying with my need and making me beg for release, now he made it his mission to make me come. And I did, over and over again. The orgasms rippled through me as he worshiped my body with his, his tongue, his hands, his cock plundering my body, pleasuring it, pleasing it.

I took him in my mouth several times, licking him from root to tip, reveling in his deep moans and profanity-riddled releases, a canticle of male exultation as I took him to the back of my throat and milked him. And then he’d feast on my sensitive flesh, bringing me to climax more times than I could count, fucking me with his skilled tongue and tireless lips.

Once he was ready to roll again, he’d climb back on top, pinning me to the mattress and sheathing himself to the base. It was at this moment when his forehead would fall to my shoulder, as he sank inside me balls-deep, that I would just for a second let the emotion of it all swamp me. The finality of it, the fact that it might be the last time I ever felt whole again, felt complete, that it might be the last time Derrick King was ever inside me.

I wanted to make the most of it. I wanted to imprint each and every moment on my brain so I’d never forget how good my second chance at happiness had felt, how he’d resurrected the old Piper, even if just for a week. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted my hips up, meeting him thrust for thrust. His teeth snagged my nipple, and I hissed in delight.

Another orgasm slammed through me as he rotated his hips just so, hitting my clit until I was a thrashing mess beneath him, my hair flying wildly across the pillows while my toes curled and my hips ached. But I couldn’t get enough. If this was our last night, I wanted to savor every moment.

I raked my teeth along his jaw, loving that the stubble had grown back and how rough it felt beneath my lips, like bristly sandpaper or a short-haired scrub brush. His hand coiled around under my butt, and he lifted my hips up, snaking an inquisitive finger between my cheeks and probing my tight hole. I tilted up to allow him access, moaning low in my throat as he claimed me in that forbidden way.

I’d lost track of the orgasms, of the time, of where we were, but soon daylight started to peek in through the windows, and the stir and ruckus of a new day could be heard just beyond the door. Had we made love all night long? It hadn’t felt like all night; it’d seemed like but a blip in time. A rogue tear drifted down my cheek as he continued to hammer into me, coaxing out another orgasm.

“One more, Piper. Come for me one last time. Come on, baby.” He dipped his head to latch on to a nipple again, biting down just hard enough to make me moan, and then flicking the tip with his tongue, while he added another finger into my ass and did that decadent little hip swirl, so his pelvic bone hit my clit just right. The man was a multi-tasker, completely and utterly devoted to my pleasure. “One more time, baby.”

I shook my head and whimpered. “No…I’m too tired. I can’t.” I wanted to come again for him, but I wasn’t sure if I could.

“Oh, but you can.” Then suddenly he pulled out, and I found myself on my belly, face first into the pillows. He molded my body, bringing my knees together and my arms up next to my head. Lowering his body back down he wedged himself inside of me. Only this time the angle was different; this time my legs were closed, my body was tight, and my clit was grazing the sheet. I felt the blood rush between my legs, the heat in my belly spreading while the orgasm bloomed. He started to buck into me, one hand coming beneath my chest to cup my breasts. He tugged on a nipple again, and his teeth ran along my shoulder blades. “I can feel it, Piper. It’s in there. Come for me, baby, come.”

I was breathless, humping the bed for more friction while beckoning him deeper, my greedy flesh grabbing hold of him and pulling him into me. I went off like a warehouse full of dynamite, turning my face into the pillow to muffle my cries, while my entire body convulsed around him, squeezing tight and encouraging him to lose himself, just one last time.

He snarled in my ear, his teeth nipping the shell as he stilled above me, deep breaths and strangled groans as he finally let go.

I joined him back in bed, having quickly peed and brushed my teeth. And then purchased a cheap, last-minute flight home (sometimes it paid to not plan too far in advance) leaving just after midnight the next day. I was bone-tired and desperate to close my eyes, even if just for an hour or two. We’d paid for a later checkout, and our flight back to Lima wasn’t until the late afternoon, so we had nothing to do but wait for Chase and spend some time together. I’d hoped that we could have spent a bit of that time talking. I knew we needed to sleep, but things felt off, and I didn’t want to leave them this way. I wanted to talk about what was going to happen next, maybe make plans to meet up once we were both back in Canada, even if just for coffee or dinner. But Derrick had other plans. When I slipped back into bed, he was already sound asleep, his back to me while his chest rose in a steady rhythm.

I swallowed the thick lump in my throat and climbed under the covers, turning my back to him as well, gluing my eyes shut and willing sleep to claim me. It did in seconds.

Chapter 19

Several hours later we were rudely woken up by a harsh rapping at the door. I groggily checked my phone, feeling like I’d been up all night drinking, my brain fuzzy and my eyes sore. I had been up all night, but for once in the past week, it hadn’t involved any alcohol. Derrick stirred next to me and fumbled on the nightstand for his glasses. He slid them on and stood up, his taut butt flexing as he strode toward the door.

“Uh…boxers?” My voice sounded like a chain-smoking frog.

He nodded and grabbed them off the floor, pulling them on before heading to open the door. And there stood Chase, big and tall and handsome as hell, with a grisly scowl on his face but also three steaming cups of coffee.

His eyes snagged mine and then drifted a little lower before quickly flying off to the corner of the room. Oh shit, I was naked, and the sheet was not covering my chest. I hastily wrapped it around myself and then hightailed it to the washroom, emerging a few minutes later in some sweats and a hoodie.

“Here,” he said gruffly, thrusting the frothy mug into my hand. “Show me the stuff.”

I took the coffee willingly and cupped it in both hands, while Derrick wandered into the bathroom and retrieved the bag and envelope from the toilet tank. I glared at the Ziploc full of contraband. I could be in prison right now because of that bag; I wanted to destroy it and anyone associated with it.

Chase set his mug down and took the bag, examining it and its contents. He nodded once. “It’s Fentanyl.”

“Fuck!” I took a sip of my coffee to steady my nerves and quell my building rage. “What about the cash?”

“Most likely drug money. Haven’t figured it all out yet, but we’re getting close.” He nodded again. “I’ll go back to the airport with you guys, just to be on the safe side, okay?”

He set the bag down on the bed. “Is there anything that you’ve had on you the entire time? During every encounter and attempted theft?”

I scrunched up my nose and bit my lip, trying to think. “My passport? I’ve kept it on me this entire time. I have one of those small discrete money belts. But I didn’t want people watching me go in and out of it for money, so I just put my passport in it, tuck it under my shirt, but I don’t take it off until I go to bed.”

His lips twisted in thought. “And was it ever not on you?”

I went to shake my head but then stopped. Shit! I nodded. “Yeah. I spent nearly a week in Panama City, and they had pretty decent security at the hostel I was staying at, even offered to hold your passport in their safe, so I left it with them.”

“Let me see your passport.” He held out a big hand the size of a Christmas ham.

I went into my backpack and retrieved the small money belt, unzipping it and pulling out the blue- covered Canadian passport. He took it from me and started flipping through the pages, and then suddenly he stopped, reached into his back pocket and pulled out a Swiss Army knife. Then he proceeded to dig with expert precision, using the tip, along the spine, and a little chip, about a quarter the size of my pinky fingernail, popped off.

“That is how they’ve been finding you. These fuckers are dangerous if they went to the length of putting a tracker on your passport.”

“Fucking Eduardo!”

Chase nodded. “Fucking Eduardo, indeed.”

I had hoped that finding out how they’d been able to locate me, even up in Cusco, would be some kind of closure, but instead, it just stoked the burning rage inside me. And now more than ever I wanted to go bust a cap in some Panamanian hostel worker’s ass.

He tossed it to the ground and stomped on it until it crumbled beneath his boot. I tried to sigh in relief, but couldn’t. We all grabbed breakfast in the hostel dining room, and then after Derrick and I packed up and checked out, we loaded into the car that Chase had hired and set off for the airport.

“Shit!” Chase spat as we turned a corner around one of the many, identical stone buildings. Cusco was an old-world Labyrinth. Everything looked vaguely similar; there were dozens of tiny side streets and alleyways. I’d guess even the locals got lost from time to time.

My head whipped around to look out the back window. “What? What’s wrong?”

“We’re being followed,” he said blandly, his face blank, though his eyes held a murderous gleam, as if he were preparing for battle.

“You’re sure?” Derrick asked, spinning around to look behind us.

Chase nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been deliberately driving around aimlessly for the last ten minutes, and that car behind us has always been no more than two car lengths away. We’re being followed.”

My eyes darted between Chase and the driver, and then back to Derrick and then to the car behind us. Its windshield was tinted, so I couldn’t see the driver.

“What are we going to do?” I asked, panic in my voice, not only for my life, for Derrick’s life, and Chase’s and our driver’s life, but also because, well, we had to catch a plane in a few hours. I wanted to get the hell out of this place, and the only way I could do that was by getting our asses to the airport on time.

Chase murmured something to the driver, and then we took a hard right around a corner, my body whipping across the bench seat only to get slammed in the chest by the seatbelt. Derrick’s hand came out, and he caught me, even though I didn’t need to be caught. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Our vehicle came to a sudden stop, and both Chase and the driver got out. The driver, whom I hadn’t caught a glimpse of until now, was just as big as Chase, maybe bigger, and had the most luscious head of shaggy blond surfer-bum hair. He caught my eye as he walked past my window and flashed me a panty-dropping grin before he and Chase continued walking behind the SUV. “What the hell are they doing?” I asked, unbuckling my belt so I could pivot around in my seat completely.

“Get back in your seatbelt!” Derrick ordered. “If they all of a sudden come rushing back in and gun it, I don’t want you getting hurt.” My head snapped up to his face at his harsh tone, and even though his voice was rough, his eyes held sadness, a plea almost, if I wasn’t mistaken. He wasn’t really telling me to do something; for once, he was asking me, practically begging. I did as he asked and buckled my belt.

“What do you think they are doing?” I asked again, more cautiously this time. Something was going on in his head. He’d shut down last night after we’d talked about what was going on between us. Right after I’d told him I was heading home today, he had a chip on his shoulder again, the walls were back up, and he wasn’t letting me in, so I needed to tread lightly.

He ground his molars together. “I don’t know, but you need to duck down.” He did the head push, only there was nothing sexy about it, forcing my body to double over, my head in his lap. He draped his coat over my body until all I could see were his big booted feet on the ground and darkness. Damn, even his coat smelled amazing. I grabbed the edges of it and pulled it tighter around me, so it felt like Derrick was protecting me, and not just his coat.

Suddenly there was a loud and jarring noise outside, and on instinct I threw the coat off of me and sat up, coming face to face with Chase and the blond guy duking it out, punching and kicking street-fighter style, with two men in leather jackets and ripped jeans. Chase and his companion had at least a hundred or more pounds on their opponents, but where the bad guys lacked strength, they made up for it in dirty fighting. Both had knives and were wielding them around like swordsmen.

“We have to help them!” I turned to Derrick, whose eyes were as wide as dinner plates. “They could die!”

He grabbed my head and pushed it back down into his lap, snatching his coat off the floor and throwing it back over my head. “They’ll be fine; they’re SEALs or Joint Task Force or something…though I’m going to guess Chase and that blond guy are Black Ops. They seem too funded to be Joint Task Force.” He shook his head and turned back to look out the window again. “Those guys out there are after you, Piper. If they see you, you’re in trouble. So stay hidden and keep quiet.”

I did as I was told, the grunts and snarls of the fight outside making me jump and wince. The sounds of fists hitting faces making me cringe and pray that it wasn’t Chase or his friend’s face. There were sirens off in the distance, but they were growing closer; someone had called the police. But if the police in Cusco were anything like the police in Lima, we were better off getting out of Dodge and taking off. We heard some more grunts, a cry of pain, and then suddenly two car doors opened and slammed shut, followed by the engine revving. And then we were moving again. I motioned to pop my head up, but Derrick’s hand was pressed firmly down on my neck, keeping me in place.

“They’re going to follow us, aren’t they?” Derrick asked.

“There were four of them,” the driver said, his voice was a lot more chipper than Chase’s, so it was easy to tell the difference. “We incapacitated the first two easily, as they were unarmed, but the other two proved to be more challenging. It’s only a matter of time before the cops come after us and/or they all come to track us down.”

“So…what do we do?” Derrick’s voice was a boon of comfort above me.

“We’re going to get you guys on a plane out of here,” Chase said. “We’ll make sure the guys know Piper doesn’t have the envelope. We’ll dangle it in front of their face if we have to. And then you two board your plane, and Heath and I will take care of the rest.”

Heath, the driver’s name was Heath. I liked that name. It was strong but friendly, just like him. I pulled the edge of the coat off my face so I could see out, my head still snuggly in Derrick’s lap. “Hi, Heath.”

He turned around for half a second in his seat and flashed me another giant smile. “Hi, Piper, nice to meet you.”

Chase made an irritated noise in his throat. “They’re together. Stop flirting.”

Heath gave Chase a mock face of surprise. “I wasn’t flirting. I was simply saying ‘hello.' He smiled back at me again. “Ignore my asshole brother. He’s always this grumpy. Probably because he hasn’t gotten laid in like forever. Dude, I keep telling you, there are some lovely women down in Mancora, and you don’t even have to pay for them. They’ll sleep with you for free because they want to. You just tell them you have a big willy and say something dirty to them in Spanish and they’re chomping at the bit to get your pants off.”

Derrick snorted above me, while Chase shot his brother a deathly stare, but Heath was all grins and started laughing. That’s when I noticed the red, what would soon be a big ugly bruise on his cheek, and the cut lip. I took in Chase’s appearance, and he was a tad beaten up too, but I’d guess the other guys looked a whole lot worse.

“All right, we’re here,” Heath said, the car coming to a stop once again. “Alejandro Velasco Astete International Airport.”

Derrick’s hand on my neck relaxed, and I started to pop my head up, grateful that we’d managed to make it to the airport with only a minor inconvenience along the way. The only thing left was getting inside, getting on the plane and then getting the fuck out of this country.

I was just reaching to unbuckle my belt when I looked out the window past Derrick and saw it. A car coming full speed and straight for us.

“Look out!” I cried, but it was too late, and the medium-size sedan, which was going a million miles an hour, or so it seemed, T-boned us on the passenger side, right where Derrick was sitting.

I screamed as my body was rocked and jostled around the SUV, the world spinning out of control around us as the car did donuts in the parking lot. When we finally stopped, I took a quick ten-second inventory of my limbs and body; nothing felt broken. I could move my neck, my arms and my legs; everything was good. Then I looked for Derrick. He was slumped unconscious in the seat next to me, a gash on his head from some broken glass, but otherwise, he seemed okay. Chase and Heath both moaned in the front seat, but I saw their bodies moving, and neither had flown out of the vehicle. We’d all been belted in. We were all okay.

“Everyone all right?” Heath asked woozily.

Chase groaned. “Yeah.” His head lolled to the side, but he opened his eyes, and they still seemed bright and aware. “Piper, you all right?”

“I am, yeah. Derrick’s unconscious, but I think he’s okay. He has a gash on his head from broken glass—”

“They’re coming,” Heath said, cutting me off.

Chase sprang to life in the front seat and then spun around to face me. “When I say ‘go,’ you grab your bags, and you and Derrick go. You run for the airport as fast as you can, got it? You hide until your flight is called.”

I swallowed and nodded, gently tapping Derrick’s cheeks to wake him. “Come on, Derrick, wake up. You need to wake up.” He stirred slightly, and then one eyelid lifted just a fraction. Oh, good, his pupils weren’t dilated; he didn’t have a concussion.

“What happened?”

“We were T-boned.” I tore the bottom piece of my undershirt off and held it against his forehead to stop the bleeding. Head wounds bled like a bitch.

Noises outside the car caused my head to spin around, and then Heath’s door was opened from the outside, and fast and angry orders in Spanish were barked. I heard Heath’s voice, and he was speaking perfect, fluent Spanish back.

I saw the handle on my side of the car move and hastily locked the door before anyone could get in. Derrick’s door was completely smashed in and useless. The only other way out would be through the sunroof or the hatch in the back.

“When I say ‘go,' got it?” Chase’s eyes locked on mine. I nodded. He gracelessly crawled over the gear-shifter and into the driver’s seat and then outside. We heard more arguing in Spanish, and then my door was unlocked from the outside by the fob. I knew that it was either Heath or Chase and didn’t bother to lock it again. Instead I continued to try and rouse Derrick, grabbing both of our backpacks from the back seat and strapping them to our backs, thanking God for tinted windows and that no one could really see what I was up to.

“Derrick, you need to be ready to run. When Chase says go, we have to jump out and run for the airport, okay? Can you run?” He nodded and then blinked a couple of times as he winced and put his hand to his head.

“Yeah, I can run.”

They were still arguing, loud voices and heated threats, and we heard more fighting, fists colliding with faces, followed by loud and close-by sirens. The flashing lights of the approaching police sent a frisson of fear up my spine, settling at the base of my skull. And then, suddenly, my door opened, and Heath was standing there nodding and telling me to get out. “You guys need to run.”

I shook my head. “I…I was told to wait until Chase said ‘go.’”

He nodded impatiently. “Yeah, well, my brother is currently otherwise occupied.” He helped me climb out. At that moment, I saw Chase being handcuffed at gunpoint and led away by the Cusco police.

“What the hell is happening?” I made to lunge for Chase, only to have Derrick and Heath both pull me back before I even took a step. Derrick seemed to have composed himself and was set to run.

“He’s turning himself in as the trafficker,” Heath said. “He’ll be okay. We’ll get him out before anything bad happens to him. This was the only way to get the henchmen off your back, keep the drugs from getting distributed and the cops from going after you guys. He’ll be fine.” He started to usher us toward the “Departures” wing of the small airport.

But I dug in my heels, my head shaking until my neck hurt. “But we can’t just leave him. You can’t just leave your brother. We need to help him.”

A firm hand came up under each of my triceps, and they flanked me, lifting me up until my feet dangled, and they carried me off into the airport.

“Do you know what they would do to you in prison here?” Heath asked gruffly, suddenly reminding me more of his stoic brother and less like the cheerful jokester he’d been earlier. He was worried about his brother as well but trying to keep it together.

I swallowed and shook my head in ignorance.

“Chase is way safer going to prison here than you are. And if you try to help him, you’ll end up in prison too. He’s trained in this…he’s a…” Heath paused for a second, considering his words. “And you’re a foreigner. You’re a woman. You’re beautiful.” He sucked air quickly in through his teeth. “That doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re tough as nails…it’s just, well… He can hold his own, I promise. I’ll even have him call you when he’s free, okay?” We stepped inside, and they finally put me down. I shot them both a menacing glare. Heath’s mouth twisted, but he couldn’t quite muster a smile. “Get on the plane, Piper.”

Derrick grabbed my hand. “We need to go.”

I clenched my jaw and looked up into Heath’s eyes; they were the most intense midnight blue I’d ever seen, with flecks of white, like stars against the backdrop of a crystal-clear night. “You have him call me.”

His mouth jerked again at the corner, and this time he managed a small smile. “I will, I promise.”

Chapter 20

“We need to get your head looked at,” I said as we sat at our gate in the airport, both of us quiet, tense and introspective. A lot had happened in the last few hours, in the last few days. Hell, this week had been insane. And now it was over; it was all over. Chase was going to prison for me, the drug dealers would no longer be after me, and Derrick and I were flying back to Lima so that he could catch his flight to Santiago and I could board the plane bound for Vancouver.

“It’s fine,” he said grimly, using a shirt to stop the blood flow. But his face was pale, and there was blood all over his collar. Derrick’s current appearance earned him a fair few puzzled looks and concerned faces from passing passengers. A couple of people even went as so far as to move seats, giving us a wide berth, as if the gash on his head made him suddenly contagious and everyone would catch a head wound.

I was thankful that no airport staff had approached us, and it seemed as though the police outside had been content with taking Chase and didn’t feel the need to come looking for me. But I wasn’t ready to let down my guard. For the moment, I allowed myself to focus on Derrick, instead of constantly checking for an ambush behind me.

Ignoring Derrick’s protests, I brought out my emergency first aid kit and started cleaning him up. The cut was deep, but I wasn’t sure it would require stitches. I cleaned it up as best I could, using the disinfectant wipes I had, and then put a couple of butterfly bandages over it to close up the skin. All the while he barely looked at me, which was a challenge, given I was right in front of him. What was wrong now? What had I done?

I finished with his injuries and then went to the bathroom to wash my hands. Only then did I notice the big bruise on my cheek. How did I get that? Had my head hit something? I whipped out my makeup and touched up my face. It didn’t look great, as I had minimal supplies to work with, but it looked better.

A rush of nostalgia hit me in the chest as I made my way back to sit next to Derrick. This was how we’d started, and this was how we were going to end, sitting in an airport not speaking to one another, but with an abundance of emotions and unspoken feelings passing between us. Only this time, instead of wondering what his touch, his kiss, his body felt like, I knew. And it was all I could do to keep myself from crying at the thought of never getting to feel his lips against mine, his body covering mine ever again. I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood and stared out the window at the taxiing planes, determined not to let him see me cry.

It wasn’t a long wait; we killed a lot of time driving around Cusco trying to lose our followers, so within the hour we were called to board the plane. Unlike the flight to Cusco, where we’d talked about all the dirty things we wanted to do to one another, and the excitement of Machu Picchu was still before us, now we were heading back to Lima and getting ready to part ways. There was nothing exciting or remotely uplifting about this flight. We were flying back into the mouth of hell, only this time I’d be forced to face any demons I came across alone.

I wanted to talk to him, ached to hold his hand one last time, to rekindle just a glimmer of what we’d shared over the last seven days. Oh, my God, had it really been just seven days? It felt like I’d known him for so much longer. The things we’d shared, what we’d been through — talk about skipping a few steps when it came to dating and getting to know someone.

I tried several times to catch his attention or start a conversation, but every time I opened my mouth or went to reach for him, I stopped myself. He’d closed himself off for a reason; he’d said before he was a private person, so he’d put up these walls on purpose. I didn’t know him well enough, had only known him for a week, so I had no right to make him tear down those walls for me, to tell me what was on his mind, as much as I wanted him to. So we sat there for the entire flight in painful, gut-wrenching, heartbreaking silence.

We unloaded from the plane, but only I had to go and grab my bag to re-check it. He was just being transferred to another jet, one bound for Santiago. While I was bound for home. Boring, unfulfilling, jobless, husbandless home.

I exhaled and looked up at the digital flight board; his plane wasn’t for another six hours, mine wasn’t for another eight. We still had time. Time for what, though? Could we sneak off into a bathroom for another quickie? Grab a hotel room nearby? I wasn’t ready for the sex to end. I wasn’t ready for the dream to end. I wasn’t ready for us to end. But he’d already pulled away; he’d already ended it.

“So…what time is your flight?” He looked down at me, big bags having suddenly appeared under his eyes while his throat bobbed with strain.

I swallowed, my own throat feeling tight. “Um…it’s not until 1:20.”

He nodded. “Mine’s at eleven-thirty.”

“I, uh…I see that.”

“So, home, eh?”

Oh, my God, what the hell was going on? It was if we’d just met and hadn’t spent the last week running from bad guys and fucking one another senseless. I went to open my mouth and ask him why we weren’t off making out in some random corner, but I stopped myself and let out an exhausted sigh. “Yeah…home. I need to decompress.”

He nodded but averted his eyes. “Yeah, me too. That’s what Easter Island is for. You can’t get any farther away from your problems and the hustle and bustle of life than the most isolated island in the world.”

My chest quivered, and tears stung behind my eyes. Was this how we were going to leave it? “No…I suppose you can’t.”

He looked back up at the schedule board for a moment and then down at me. “Come with me.”

A quick gasp had me coughing for air. When I finally didn’t feel like I was going to choke on anything, I looked back up into his eyes, stormy and gray and chock-full of conviction, full of promise and need. “What?” I shook my head, hoping that I’d heard him correctly, but not wanting to count my chickens.

He nodded again. “Come with me.”

I shook my head. “No... I… I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“B-because… this is…” But I didn’t have a good answer; I had no answer.

“Piper.” His tone held so much authority my head snapped up to look at him before I knew what was happening. His face was so focused, so resolute. But when he saw my wariness, they softened just a touch and he gently cupped my cheek.

Despite the craziness of the airport around us, I saw only Derrick, heard only Derrick.

“I don’t know what’s going on with us,” he said, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “But it’s more than a fling. It’s more than two people making one another forget their troubles and just feel good. You know it, too. You feel it, too. I see it in your eyes.” His lips trembled, but he pressed on. “I want you, Piper. Every minute of every day, I want you. Fuck, I’m pretty sure I need you. You make me feel more alive, more… in love with the possibility of happiness, of second chances than I’ve ever felt before.

“It’s only been a week, but… if this is what falling in love feels like, if I’m supposed to feel a tightening in my chest and have a brain of mush whenever you’re around, then… I don’t want this feeling to end. Come with me. Let’s figure out what is going on with us. Let’s explore the possibility of the impossible. Take a chance on a second chance.”

My mouth hung open, he took it as an invitation and leaned in for a kiss. His tongue swept inside, tasting me, pleading with me. This time he was the one doing the begging. I felt it with every brush of his lips, every lave of his tongue, and the way he tugged me closer, unwilling to let me go.

Reluctantly he finally pulled away, bending his knees so that we were eye-to-eye, a wicked gleam in the swirling thundercloud gray of his irises. I’d never noticed it before, but there were hints of gold in the gray. How unusual and beautiful.

“We can travel the world if we want to. See any country we choose. Teach abroad. You said you’re done with law, and your husband thought you should be a teacher. You’re educated enough to teach; so am I. We could walk into an ESL school in Santiago tomorrow and have jobs by the end of the month when we get back from Easter Island.”

“But…my apartment.” I was grasping at straws now, and I couldn’t quite figure out why.

He shook his head. “Call a friend to lease it for you, or give it up and have a moving crew put everything in storage.” The man had an answer for everything. Had this been why he’d been so quiet? Was he trying to figure out a way for the adventure to never end? His hands were now cupping my cheeks. “I can see it in your eyes, Piper; you want this too. You want to travel and have more adventures. You want to throw caution to the wind and see what tomorrow brings without having planned the whole thing out the day before. I can see you want this… you want us.”

There was that word again, us. He wanted us.

“Take a chance on me, Piper. Take a chance on love… take a chance on us.” There was that word again — us.

My heart pounded like a drum in my chest and my entire body was on fire. I could feel a flush of heat spreading up from my neck to my cheeks and into my hairline and a buzzing sound filled my ears. Was I having a stroke? Or was this just what it felt like to take a leap of faith into the unknown? Gently and sweetly, I pulled his hands from my face. His eyes went wide with panic, and he started to shake his head to get me to stay. But I didn’t say anything. I just took his hand and pulled him forward and up to the LATAM Airlines desk.

I fished my passport and my last remaining credit card out of my purse and plunked them on the counter. “One ticket to Santiago, please.”

Epilogue

Six Months Later…

“Hello?”

“Piper?”

“Yes, who’s this?”

“You’re a tough woman to track down.”

“Who is this?” I put my pen down and got up from my desk, wandering over to the window and looking out onto the rolling hills.

“Chase.”

I gasped. “Chase?”

“Yeah.”

My heart started to beat wildly in my chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“H-have…” My voice caught in my throat. I hoped to God he wasn’t going to say ‘yes’ to my next question. “Have you been in prison this whole time?”

Silence.

“Chase?”

“You’re a tough woman to track down. Been doing some traveling?”

“Yes, where are you?”

“Home.”

“And where is home?” The man could be such an ass.

“I’m okay, Piper.”

Tears pricked the corner of my eyes, and I sniffed, wiping the back of 2

my wrist beneath my nose. “Okay.”

“If you’re ever back up in Canada, you look me up. We can grab a beer…laugh about all of this. Maybe even be friends.” Yeah, because you laugh! I fought the urge to laugh now.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. “Okay. Chase?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

More silence.

“Chase?”

“You’re welcome. Listen, Piper, it’s good to know you’re safe and happy, but I have to go. We’ll talk when you’re home.”

I sniffed again and wiped my eyes. “Okay.”

“Goodbye.”

I don’t say goodbye anymore; it’s too final. “See you later, Chase.”

Several years later…

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” I ask, noticing that the seat next to a menacingly attractive man is vacant. He’s busy puttering away on his laptop. It appears he is editing and polishing up an interesting photo of a grizzly bear and her cubs. The photo is stunning, and so is he.

His eyes flash up at me, and he smiles, moving his laptop bag off the chair I’m interested in. “No, not at all.”

I flop down with an oof and throw the bags around my neck and shoulders to my feet; my back is killing me. “Thanks.”

His lips twist. “Not a problem.”

I grin at him and pick up my ratty old copy of Accepting Loss: A step by step guide to dealing with the loss of loved ones. He snorts through his nose but doesn’t look back at me. He keeps his eyes fixed on his computer, his fingers furiously flying across the keys and touchpad.

I’m pretending to read my book, all the while actually studying the man beside me, his lusciously dark hair, deep and soulful gray eyes, and that sexy as hell scruff that runs the length of his jaw. God, how I ached to have that scruff on my body, I bet it felt all kinds of wicked. And then I notice the sleeping toddler in the seat next to him. Curled up like a perfect little chubby-cheeked cherub with her thumb in her mouth, long blonde curls covering most of her forehead. He’s draped his coat over her, and she’s using what appears to be his sweater as a pillow. A furry animal of some sort, maybe a bunny, peeks out from underneath her arm. All I can see is a pink nose and one glossy black eye, but I’m almost certain it’s a bunny.

I let my eyes flit back to my book for just a second, and suddenly a hand lands on my belly and begins to rub it rhythmically.

I give him an incredulous look. “Excuse me, sir, but what do you think you are doing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Are you going to make me role-play our meet-cute every year for the rest of my life? Oh, he’s kicking!” Derrick’s eyes, glittering and happy, flash to mine. “That was a hard one. Does it hurt?”

My hand falls on top of his as we feel our son try to get himself comfortable. My eyes flutter shut, and I sigh. “No, not really. He’s still got some space yet. Another month or two and he’ll be up in my ribs, just like Holly was.”

He chuckles. “And there she stayed.”

I stretch and smile but don’t bother to open my eyes. “Yes, and there she stayed. Stubborn little monkey. How’d you get her to fall asleep, finally?”

His fingers link with mine, and he brings the back of my hand to his lips. “I told her she’ll be too tired for the beach tomorrow unless she gets some sleep now. Then she asked if she’ll get to see Connor and Thea. I told her not unless she has a nap.”

Another sigh. “This was a very good idea. Hawaii for two whole weeks, with Chase and his family.”

“Yeah,” he yawns. “And you all pregnant and gorgeous in a bikini. I’m excited.”

I snort and shake my head. “I can’t believe this time next year there will be four of us. It seemed so hard at first when she was newborn. And now it’s easy…” I pop one eye open, and he’s giving me a couple of raised brows. “Okay, okay, it’s not easy, it’s easier.”

The brows appear to climb even higher. “This coming from the woman who was threatening to leave our child in the gift shop just an hour ago, when she threw the mother of all tantrums?”

I rolled my eyes. “Touché. Fine, not easier.”

I can tell he’s struggling not to smile. He doesn’t say anything.

“I’m just nervous about having two kids. We need this time away, just the three of us.”

Stowing his laptop into its case, he wraps an arm around my shoulder. I let my head fall to his and close my eyes again. “It’ll be tough at first. But we’re in this together. Just another adventure, right? Though instead of being robbed blind of money and cameras, they’re just going to rob us of sleep, sex and our sanity for the foreseeable future. Oh, and maybe my hair.” With a worried frown, he runs his free hand through his silky locks.

Oh, how I hope he goes salt and pepper.

“But you know, they’ll probably just make you go gray.” I snort, and he plants a kiss to my forehead. “You, me, them…this is us, and I couldn’t be happier about what’s in store.”

A lone tear trickles down my cheek, and I let my free hand fall to the somersaulting infant in my belly. “This is us, isn’t it? Happy, healthy…”

“And head-over-heels in love.”

I swallow and look up at him, unshed tears blurring my vision. He has them, too. “And head-over-heels in love.”

If you’ve enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review. It really does make a difference.

Thank you again.

Xoxo

Whitley Cox

Love, Passion and Power: Part 1

The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series, book 1

Kendra

“Whoa-ho-ho, just take a look at Mr. Mega-Bucks who just pulled into the parking lot. All perfect hair and over-priced sunglasses.”

I glanced up to where Damien was indicating. Sure enough, there was a Mr. Mega-Bucks, albeit also a Mr. Super-Sexy Mega-Bucks, stepping out of a gunmetal gray Aston Martin DB9. The slick paint job and clean rims glistening like freshly polished silver in the warm May sunshine.

“Well isn’t he a delectable little piece?” Manuel added, coming up behind me and resting his elbows on the counter, settling his stubbly chin on his interlocked hands. “Who do you think he is?”

“He’s Justin Williams, and he’s going to be working with you, Kendra. He’s been referred by his physician, and you’re to give him the works,” Lacy said, looking up at me beneath her feathery lashes.

“Lucky girl,” Manuel whined playfully. “I’d certainly like to give him the works!” Then he elbowed me in the ribs before heading to the back to see to his massage client.

I rolled my eyes. Yes, lucky me indeed. I get to work with this pompous ass. Who probably has more money than brains and better hair than most women I know. Lucky me indeed. I watched as he sauntered toward the front door and opened it, the sun behind his head giving him an almost biblical glow as he removed his sunglasses. He tucked his shades into the neck of his baby-blue polo shirt, and graced the foyer with his presence.

And despite my usual indifference toward someone with more money than brains, because clearly, that was the case with this guy, I couldn’t help but feel myself get a tad winded by his looks as he strode toward us. Light brown hair fell just so over his forehead with messy windswept abandon, while eyes, as blue and bright as the Caribbean Ocean, sparkled above youthful rosy cheeks. Boyish and innocent Hollywood — not that there is anything innocent about Hollywood and there probably wasn’t anything innocent about this guy either.

But when he smiled at Lacy — Jesus Christ! I just about swallowed my tongue. Big, straight white teeth on that million-dollar grin, to go along with what I can only assume were his millions of dollars. His swagger was practiced and carefree, but it also exuded cockiness and confidence. And the heavy sway of the bulge in his khaki shorts said he was well practiced in bringing a woman to her knees and keeping her there — willingly!

“Hi,” he said, all smiles with a coquettish wink at Lacy who was eating it up with both hands. She batted her eyelashes and flipped her platinum shoulder-length hair around her head as if there was a giant fan in the corner. “Justin Williams. I’m here for a consult. Dr. Ernest referred me.”

I turned my back on them, too embarrassed by the ridiculousness of my co-worker to continue watching. Instead, I busied myself with the file in my hand, straightening papers that didn’t need straightening and reading things I didn’t need to read.

“Yes… yes, Mr. Williams. We’ve uh… we’ve been expecting you.” Lacy’s words fumbled and fell out of her mouth like marbles in a teaspoon. Get it together woman; he’s just another pretty face. “Uh, Kendra…?”

I turned to her, taking great care not to look at the sexy God-like creature standing on the opposite side of the reception desk. “Yeah, wuzzup?” I instantly cringed inside at my overly cavalier attitude. I never say ‘wuzzup.’ Nobody says ‘wuzzup’ anymore. It’s been thirty seconds, and already this man has me acting like a complete fool.

“Are you free to take Mr. Williams into the back for his consult and orientation?”

“Sure. Mr. Williams, if you’ll follow me please.” I gave a vague and disinterested smile to Mr. Williams, motioning for him to follow me. He gave another flashy grin and wink to Lacy, which sent her into a fit of giggles and snickers like a moon-struck schoolgirl, her hair flying in a completely unnecessary tailspin around her bobble head.

We traveled down the hallway in silence, but the fact that I couldn’t see him didn’t mean I wasn’t fully aware of the eyeball-sized holes he was boring into my ass — the man was an incorrigible pig.

“In here. Have a seat, and we’ll get started.” I gestured, holding the door open to the office I shared with other personal trainers on staff.

The room was empty. Damien, Cheryl, and Tim were all out with clients, and with that emptiness, I felt a sudden awareness of this man and his big — I’m guessing six-foot-three, two-hundred-pound body — being only inches from mine as he crossed the threshold. And of course, he smelled magnificent; a heavenly mixture of aftershave, coconuts, and soap.

His eyes traveled up and down my body in slow appraisal and, although I had clothes on, the way he was looking at me I could have been wearing nothing at all. Instinctively I squirmed under his gaze as I propped open the door and walked around the desk to take my seat.

“So, Mr. Williams, let’s start off with you telling me a little bit about yourself and why Dr. Ernest referred you to our facility.”

I opened his file and scanned it briefly, slowly lifting my head to meet his gaze; it was penetrating. His head was slightly cocked to one side, and a bemused half-smile danced across his sensuous lips. I raised my eyebrows slightly to prompt a response and show him that, contrary to popular belief, he didn’t have the same effect on all women. I wasn’t about to lose my shit or my cool simply because he’d smiled at me and undressed me with his eyes, all the way down to my toe-ring.

He leaned back in the chair and crossed his left leg over his right, resting the ankle on the knee, took a deep breath and then exhaled loudly. I didn’t move, fidget or respond. I just waited.

“Well, what can I say? I’m a workaholic who eats shit, doesn’t exercise, barely sleeps and takes prescription drugs to stay awake. Some of these drugs are not exactly ‘legal.'” He used air quotes. “In Canada… And according to my doctor, all this caused me to have a heart attack a few weeks ago… albeit a mild one.”

A faint buzzing sound permeated the sudden silence in the room. Immediately he put his foot down on the floor and leaned forward. Pulling his phone out of his back pocket, he slid his thumb over the touch screen and then it was as though I didn’t exist. That we weren’t in the middle of a serious conversation and that I wasn’t sitting across from him, four feet away.

I watched as he continued to fiddle on his phone, his face in a pent up scrunch, lines that I hadn’t noticed before etched deep on his otherwise youthful face. Suddenly the phone buzzed again, and he held a finger up to me indicating silence or that he needed a minute, either way, it was rude as hell.

“Williams!” He snapped into the receiver. “I don’t care right now John, just liquidate and pull out. I don’t need the hassle right now. Pay them fucking overtime for all I care, double-time if we have to, it’ll still be a savings in the long run. Just get it all out of there… good… Call me when it’s done.” And without a farewell, he did the less-than-dramatic red-button press and hung up on “John.”

“Sorry about that.” He looked up at me and shrugged sheepishly, adding a wink to his grin to try and soften the blow. “Business.”

“Mr. Williams, we have a strict ‘no phone’ policy in the facility. For future reference, you are to turn your phone off or onto silent mode and either leave it in your locker in the men’s change room or check it at reception with Lacy.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, and that same quirky smirk played across his full pouty lips. “Is that so? Well, I am never without my phone… but I’m up for the challenge. Would you like it now?” he asked as he put it on the desk and mimed sliding to across to me.

“We won’t be in here long. You can hand it off to Lacy when we pass reception.”

“Very well… I, uh… I get the feeling… Miss…?”

“Kendra, Kendra Black,” I snapped, eyeing him up and questioning where this was going.

“Miss Black, I get the feeling you don’t like me very much. Is that correct? Have I done something to offend you?” His head cocked to the side again as he leaned forward, clasping his hands and resting them on the desk.

I sighed heavily and leaned back in my own seat gauging him warily. “I don’t know you, Mr. Williams—”

“Justin, please call me Justin.” Humor and mischief danced in his eyes.

“Justin, fine, I don’t know you at all… Justin, but I will tell you this. I have zero, zero tolerance for recreational drug use or abuse of prescribed pharmaceuticals. If I find out you’re using again I will drop you as a client faster than you can blink, are we clear? This is a center of rehabilitation for the body and mind. People come here after they have had surgery, an injury, a heart attack like you, a stroke or other kinds of serious trauma or setbacks. But we are not a rehab facility for addicts. Got it? Secondly, I don’t know who you are, or, better yet, who you think you are but don’t think you can charm me like you charmed Lacy. I’m not impressed by money or power. You’re the client, and I’m your trainer, and the sooner you realize and accept that the better this relationship will be.”

I caught my reflection in the sunglasses he’d hooked in the top of his shirt. I looked pissed off. Why was I so pissed off? I needed to cut the guy some slack. I didn’t know him, and he’d just had a heart attack. I berated myself for my earlier bitchiness and corrected my scowl. I could still maintain professionalism and also be nice. I was a nice person.

I watched him as he processed my comments, his eyebrows dancing up and down on his tanned forehead while his lips twisted into a tiny pout. It was a cute look for him, I must admit, but I couldn’t let myself get distracted. Nice didn’t have to mean flirty either.

“Well, Miss Black, I assure you I’m clean and plan to be for the foreseeable future, so you don’t have to worry about that. And as far as the charming goes… well, it’s up to you to be strong enough to resist my charms. I’m just being me.” A satisfied and wry little smirk caught on his mouth.

I huffed a laugh and then reached for my pen. “Very well, Mister… Justin, if you don’t mind, I’m going to ask you a series of questions so I can get a better idea of your lifestyle. To understand how we can best help you here. Is that all right? I see you completed our online in-depth new client form, thank you, that saves us some time.”

“Ask away, lady. I’m an open book.” He leaned back and crossed his ankle onto his knee again.

“All right, well it says here that you are thirty-four, is that correct?”

“Yes.”

“How often would you say you exercise per week and what does that exercise consist of?”

“I don’t work out. At all.”

“Oh, okay.” I scribbled a big line through the section concerning workout routine.

“And your diet. What does a typical day’s diet look like for you?”

“Six cups of coffee, two in the morning, four spread out over the rest of the day, a microwave breakfast burrito if I remember to eat breakfast that is. Maybe a burger, or a slice or two of pizza for lunch and probably the same for dinner or maybe a steak if I have to go out for dinner with clients. And I love potato chips. I usually eat at least a bag a day while at work in my office, salt-and-vinegar or all-dressed, those are my faves. Sometimes I don’t have time for lunch, so I just down a bag of chips before a meeting. And then I finish the night off with a six-pack of beer or two or three doubles of scotch, usually.”

“Wow, I’m surprised you’re not four hundred pounds.”

“A fast metabolism runs in my family.”

I tapped my pen against the desk. “Yes, well, just because you’re not overweight doesn’t mean you’re healthy. Now tell me about your personal life. What do you do to relax and have fun?”

“I don’t. I work. All. The. Time. I socialize for work purposes, drinks with clients or potential clients, golf to schmooze. I have friends, but besides James I barely see them, we’re all too busy.”

“Is James your… uh, partner?”

“No,” he said flatly. Purposefully not giving me any inclination into his sexual orientation. Though by the way he flirted with Lacy and had been blatantly raking his eyes up and down my body, I’d bet he was as heterosexual as they come.

“Romantic relationship status?”

“Nothing significant.”

“So, single?”

“Yes.”

“How do you relieve stress?”

“Sex. Or copious amounts of masturbation.”

I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, determined to look professional and let him know that his comment, although meant to startle me, hadn’t fazed me in the least.

“That’s it?”

“Yep. Oh, and I like to read comic books.”

“Okay then. And how about your relationship with your family?”

He lifted one shoulder. “Meh, it’s all right. I mean it’s not strained. I love my parents and my brother and sister, but we’re not what I would call ‘close.'  I’ve got a good relationship with my dad, but he lives in Hawaii. My mum, step-dad and half-sibs live in Montreal.”

“And have you taken the leave of absence from work your doctor advised?”

“No.”

I tilted my head and lifted an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Too busy. I’ll do everything else he’s making me do, but I’m not leaving work.”

I decided to ignore this as it was ultimately going to get me nowhere and chose to move on. “Okay. So, I see here that Dr. Ernest has recommended you take up yoga for stress and that I set up a fitness routine for you. Something that you can manage and fit into your life so that it is maintainable once we’re through. I’m also going to set you up with a nutrition plan to help change your diet. After all, changing your body for weight-loss or fitness is thirty percent exercise and seventy percent what you put in your mouth. Are you okay with all of this?”

He lifted one shoulder arrogantly. “Yeah, sure. I mean I don’t want to have another jammer and die.”

“No of course not. I don’t want you to have another jammer either. So, I think today what we’ll do is do a fitness assessment, get your body mass index, body fat content, your body age. I already have the blood work that the hospital sent over, so that’s good. And then I think we’ll do a yoga session for the last hour to de-stress, so we finish on a high note. Did you bring other clothes?”

“No.”

“Well, I think we’ll be able to find you something here.”

“Here,” I said, throwing him a pair of basketball shorts and a loose, white t-shirt. “These should suffice for today.” I grabbed two yoga mats off the rack and led Justin down the hallway toward the studio while pointing to the men’s room on the left. “You can change in there if you want to. I’ll set up in here.”

“Ah, I should be okay.”

Following me into the yoga studio, he removed his shorts down to his, The Incredible Hulk boxers, and kicked off his running shoes and socks. Then he pulled his shirt off over his head, while I busied myself laying out the mats. I tied my long and frustratingly thick dark, red hair back into a ponytail and secured the whispies with a thin black headband I keep wrapped around my wrist. All the while desperately trying not to watch him in the giant floor to ceiling wall mirrors, but it was difficult, especially since he was watching me. Our eyes locked for just a second, then that smirk was on his face again. I rolled my eyes and kicked my flip-flops to the side while unzipping my white hoodie.

He had a nice body considering how little he took care of it. I studied his arms and torso, looking to see where I could add definition and toning. We’d definitely have to lift some heavy weights to build up his delts, traps, and pecs, they were virtually non-existent, but he had nice toned legs and from what I could see a taut little ass.

“You’re going to put me in an early grave with those sexy yoga pants and hot-pink top Miss Black. Are you trying to give your clients a heart attack? Or in my case another heart attack?”

I rolled my eyes again and ignored his come-on. “All right let’s begin with some deep breathing. Stand in the center of your mat, feet together facing the mirror, hands in prayer position in front of your heart.”

I watched him walk over, his big masculine feet with a light dusting of hair on the tops and toes making small imprints on the cobalt blue mat. Big feet, big… My mind wandered for a second and his eyes caught me staring, which of course earned me another large playful grin. But despite all that he followed my orders and we managed to make it through a full hour of yoga. His flexibility was paltry at best and his sense of balance laughable, but I had to give the man credit: he tried every position without a grimace and didn’t roll his eyes or ask to stop. And every time he lost his balance he’d get right back up and attempt it again.

“So, will this work for you then?” I asked as I handed him the proposed schedule that Lacy had printed out. It had us seeing each other five days a week for two hours a day, and four hours on Mondays to allow time to set up his meal plan for the week.

“Yes, uh, I think this should work. Sooooo, I guess I will see you on Monday then. Thank you, Miss Black.”

He extended his hand, and I shook it, our eyes locking again, a small squeeze of his fingers sending a jolt of awareness to my very core. When our hands separated, he offered me a very genuine and surprisingly small smile before nodding at Lacy and turning to leave, placing his sunglasses back in front of his eyes.

“Hey, babe.”

I turned around to see Alexa as she walked up behind me. And without thinking, I immediately grabbed her by the neck and planted a kiss on her lips. She was surprised at first but didn’t pull away. Instead, she deepened the kiss as her hand grazed my hip affectionately. When we came up for air from our more-than-a-peck lip lock I noticed Justin standing just outside the open door; his sunglasses were pushed down onto the bridge of his nose, his mouth open in surprise like an octopus. Smiling, I pulled Lex closer and captured her mouth with mine again, sliding my hand around to cup her perky butt.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” Lex asked as she turned into the liquor store parking lot.

I loved looking at her. She was absolutely stunning: her tanned almost muted copper skin glowed vibrant and youthful, while wild, jet black hair fell in thick, voluminous waves down her back, and big, soulful, dark brown eyes held wisdom far beyond her years. We’re not what you would call a “couple,” we’re best friends and roommates who also happen to occasionally sleep together and have threesomes when we feel like it. She’s my safe place, my rock, my family. And when I find a guy I’d like to sleep with Lex is always there too, making sure nothing bad happens.

I climbed out of her sleek little red Miata. “I don’t know,” I said. “Do you want to?” My own Jeep was in the shop, so Lex, who’s the head pastry chef at a cute little bakery and is usually off work by three, had come to pick me up.

“Well, I just got a text from Chad saying that a bunch of them are going out to The Fig for dinner, and they want to go dancing at that hot new nightclub up the street afterward. Want to do that?”

I nodded and fought off a sudden yawn. “Yeah, could be fun.”

“So how was work?”

We walked into the liquor store, and immediately male heads and a few female ones turned and took in the vision that is Lex: all big breasts, rocking ass, long legs and curves that won’t quit. And the worst and the best thing about her is that she’s the most down-to-earth and least vain person I’ve ever met. Truthfully, she has no idea how gorgeous she is.

“It was pretty good,” I said. “I have a new client. He’s handsome as hell, super rich and is a serious playboy. He can’t help but hit on anything and everything that walks. I practically caught him delivering pickup lines to a lamppost until he realized it wasn’t just a really thin woman.”

“Dear God, is he stupid too?” she asked with a throaty laugh, picking up a bottle of red wine to read the back label.

I shook my head. “No actually, I don’t think he is. I thought that he might be. You know, a rich boy spending all of Daddy’s money without a care or concern in the world. But I actually think he’s self-made and pretty smart. He’s an investment banker who owns a bunch of buildings and a few clubs and restaurants in town as well. But he’s one of those guys that just can’t turn it off. You know? He’s just always on, always joking around, but at the same time, he’s attached to his phone like it’s another appendage. He answered it three times during our session and was constantly texting and checking his emails even after I asked him to give his phone to the front desk. I can’t figure him out.”

“So is that why you sucked my face off when I picked you up?” she asked, giving me the side-eye as she scrutinized the wall of beer.

I managed a rueful smile. “I just needed to send him the message that I wasn’t interested. Thanks by the way.”

She shrugged. “Anytime. How about vodka? Hey, let’s get some Galliano and orange juice and make Harvey Wallbangers!”

“Yeah sure, whatever...” I trailed off, my thumb wedged sideways between my teeth as I wandered aimlessly up and down the aisles. “I just can’t figure this guy out. You know? He doesn’t work out, eats shit and has no stress release besides sex… what’s his deal?”

“You also can’t stop thinking about him. Or talking about him. Maybe his other stress release is humor? Should we grab some beer?” She tucked the bottle of Galliano under her arm and wandered back over to the microbrew section.

“What?” I chased after her. “I’m not thinking about him, or his stupid hair or stupid blue eyes…” She gave me a wry look. “But you make a good point about him being constantly on.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Come on, let’s go pay for our booty and head home to change. I want to wear my new dress, but I need you to help me accessorize.”

Other Available Books by Whitley Cox

Love, Passion and Power: Part 1

The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series Book 1

Love, Passion and Power: Part 2

The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series Book 2

Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 1

The Dark and Damaged Hearts Book 3

Sex, Heat and Hunger: Part 2

The Dark and Damaged Hearts Book 4

Hot and Filthy

The Dark and Damaged Hearts Book 4.5

Upcoming Releases

Quick and Dirty

Featured in the Sultry Nights boxed set

True, Deep and Forever: Part 1

The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series: Book 5

True, Deep and Forever: Part 2

The Dark and Damaged Hearts Series: Book 6

Acknowledgments

There are so many people to thank who have helped me on this daunting journey to becoming a published writer. First and foremost, my friend and editor Chris Kridler, you lady are a blessing, a gem and an all around amazing human being. Thank you for your honesty and hard work.

Jeanne St. James for doing the first beta-read for me, your notes, incite and ideas were so helpful. Thank you. Justine and Krista for their beta-read as well. I love that I can hand you the rough, unedited stuff and you’ll read it and give me your feedback. Thank you.

Tara at Fantasia Frog Designs, your covers are fantastic, and you are a peach. Keep ‘em coming, lady!

My Romance Writer’s Behaving Badly Blog crew, I love being part of such a tremendous set of inspiring, talented and supportive women. Thank you for letting me learn, lean on and join the team.

My street team, Whitley Cox’s Curiously Kinky Reviewers, you are all awesome and I feel so blessed to have found such wonderful fans.

The ladies in Vancouver Island Romance Authors, your support and insight have been incredibly helpful, and I’m so honored to be apart of a group of such talented writers.

And lastly, of course, the husband. My rock, my travel companion, my partner in crime, my everything. I love you.

About the Author

A West Coast baby born and raised, Whitley is married to her high school sweetheart, and together they have a spirited toddler and a fluffy dog. She spends her days making food that gets thrown on the floor, vacuuming Cheerios out from under the couch and making sure that the dog food doesn't end up in the air conditioner. But when nap time comes, and it's not quite wine o'clock, Whitley sits down, avoids the pile of laundry on the couch, and writes.

A lover of all things decadent; wine, cheese, chocolate and spicy erotic romance, Whitley brings the humorous side of sex, the ridiculous side of relationships and the suspense of everyday life into her stories. With mommy wars, body issues, threesomes, bondage and role playing, these books have everything we need to satisfy the curious kink in all of us.

Website: WhitleyCox.com

Facebook Page: https://www.facebook.com/CoxWhitley/

Blog: https://whitleycox.blogspot.ca/

Twitter: @WhitleyCoxBooks

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Sunset Seduction

Carma Haley Shoemaker

Haunted by the image of her husband and his mistress, Julia Turner has decided men aren‘t worth her effort anymore. Her friends talk her into a girls' vacation to Saint Lucia. Hoping the tropical sun will burn away the bitterness and depression, Julia embarks on a journey to find her own happiness.

Perpetual groomsman, Seth Chambers isn't so sure true love can happen, at least not for him. His long-time friend’s beach wedding may end up being just what he needs to heat up some romance in his life.

When Seth meets Julia at the airport, they are unprepared for the instant attraction or tide of passion to come. Julia may have found just what she needed to drown the memories of her ex-husband and buoy her self-esteem. As her lustful desires come to the surface, desires she forgot existed, she wonders if Seth could be the one to bring her back to life.

Dedicated to Missed Opportunities

Chapter 1

Julia Turner closed her eyes and tilted her face towards the sky as the sun warmed her skin. Her mind filled with thoughts of running away on an island vacation. No meeting. No presentation. She envisioned sitting on the beach, sand between her toes, while sipping on a tall drink with a cute little umbrella. Sighing deeply, she opened her eyes. Instead of holding the tropical drink she wished for, Julia held her left shoe in one hand and its broken heel in the other. “Great. Just great.” She turned around and walked back inside the house. She quickly found a new pair of heels, changed and headed out the door to begin her journey to work.

As she drove, she ran through the schedule for her presentation one last time. “Start with the handouts.” Julia tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Explain the five steps, move to development, then to the numbers. Okay, I’ve got this. Now all I have to do is...”

Her car sputtered and choked. Julia looked at the gauges on the dashboard. Gas is fine. What the hell? Looking over her shoulder for oncoming traffic, she pulled the car to the side of the road. Her breathing became rapid; her heart raced, beating a hard rhythm against her chest. I’m already running late. This can’t be happening. As the car rolled to a stop along the shoulder of the highway, the last bit of life sputtered from the engine.

“No!” Julia slammed her hand on the steering wheel. This can’t be happening. Not today. Grabbing her phone off the passenger seat, she shook her head and dialed her husband’s number. He was supposed to fix this piece of shit. I still don’t know why I can’t just get a new car. He got a new car.

The phone went straight to voicemail. “Brian!” Julia didn’t hold back her frustration or anger. “Brian, you need to call me back. I’m stuck on the side of the road. My car broke down—again.” Julia turned on the hazard lights and carefully got out of the car. Moving to the passenger side door, she began gathering her things. “I thought you said you were going to get it fixed. Dammit, Brian, this is getting old. Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

Julia placed a storage box, computer bag, and her purse on the hood of her lifeless car and stood on the side of road. Her hair blew back from her face as cars rushed by. “Brian,” she continued.” Her tone dripping with frustration. “One of the benefits of having a husband who works from home is he can take an hour off work for emergencies and not get fired. Now I’m going to be late for my presentation. If I’m lucky and don’t get fired, I’m getting a new car. You know what? Never mind. I’ll call Grace to come and get me. I know she’ll answer her phone.”

Julia ended the call and begun mumbling under her breath as she dialed her friend. “This is ridiculous,” she said. “Probably at the gym. Again. Wish I could go to the gym. Wish I had time to go to the gym.” She moved to the back of the car and leaned against the trunk.

“Hello?” Grace said.

“Oh my God.” Julia bounced off the trunk with relief. “I am so glad you’re home. Can you come get me?”

“Hi,” Grace said, laughing. “I’m good, and how are you?”

I’m such an idiot. Julia covered her face with her hand as she realized her rude behavior. “I’m so sorry, but my car broke down—again. I’m standing out here on the highway. I’m late for work and I have a presentation today.” Julia paused and leaned again the car again. “And hi. How are you?”

Julia heard Grace laughing through the phone. “I’m walking out the door now. Where are you exactly?”

Julia arrived at worked and tossed her purse, along with the keys to the rental car, onto the large wooden table. “What do you mean it’s gone?” Julia grabbed her assistant’s arm and pulled her into an empty conference room.

“I don’t know,” Kelly said. “I went down to administrative services to pick up the copies and they said they didn’t have them. There was never an order or a master dropped off for you.”

“Who was supposed to drop it off?” Julia moved to the window and looked down at the street as she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips.

“Joe,” Kelly’s voice cracked, probably with fear for her own job. She cleared her throat. “Joe was on services yesterday. He had all the paperwork—yours, Ms. Mason’s, and Mr. Holmes’.”

“Did the others get done?” Julia quickly turned to look at Kelly and moved toward the large conference table in the center of the room.

“No, just Mr. Holmes’ work.” Kelly looked nervous. Julia could tell by the way that Kelly shifted her weight she was worried.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Julia fell back into an empty chair and covered her face with her hands. “What is going on today? Are gremlins stalking me or something?”

“I could find the master on your computer and use the printer in your office,” Kelly said. “They wouldn’t be as high quality, but they would be ready in time for the meeting at least.”

Julia gasped as she sat up in the chair. “Yes,” she said. She stood up and moved to Kelly. Wrapping her arms around her, she hugged her. “You have totally saved my ass, Kelly. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Even though I’m also saving my ass, glad I can help.”

Julia watched as Kelly quickly moved out the door and down the hallway toward her office. “I got lucky with that one.” She stood with her hands on her hips, trying to calm down. “I have to make sure she gets a raise or at least a really good Christmas bonus.”

A deep thump sounded on the wooden door to Julia’s office with each knock. “Come in,” Julia said. She didn’t look up from her computer as she typed, frantically trying to finish one last report before her presentation.

“Hard at work, Julia?” An older man with a large frame entered the room.

Julia stood from her desk, walked around to the front, and held out her hand to greet her boss. “Yes, sir, Mr. Dayson. Just trying to finish a few things before the presentation.”

“That’s why I’m here,” he shook Julia’s hand and sat on the loveseat against the wall across the room. “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning. Did you forget to turn on your cell phone?”

“Of course not.” Julia reached into her pocket for her cell phone. It wasn’t there. She moved to her office chair and searched her purse but still couldn’t find it. “I’m sorry, Mr. Dayson, I must have left it in my car. It broke down this morning. Why did you need to speak with me?”

“The presentation has been rescheduled for next Friday,” Mr. Dayson said. He shifted in his seat and adjusted his coat. “And instead of doing it here at the office, it will be a luncheon presentation for fifty at the Lordis House Restaurant. So make any necessary changes to accommodate.”

Julia felt her pulse quicken. A luncheon presentation was a much more elaborate event than a business meeting. She knew she would need to do more planning and more prep work. “Of course,” She smiled, trying to hide her nerves. “I look forward to it.”

“Great.” He stood and moved to the door. “I can’t wait to see what you come up with.”

Julia closed the door behind him and raced to her office phone to call Kelly.

“Kelly, have you seen my cell phone?”

“Yes, I have it,” Kelly said. Her voice was light and happy. “You left it in the conference room, when we were, um, consulting.”

“Oh, thank God.” Julia ran her hand through her long red hair and sat on the edge of her office chair.

“I was going to bring it to you but someone told me Mr. Dayson was in your office.”

“Thank you for waiting, but he’s gone now. You can bring it to me. And the presentation has been moved to next Friday, so we have time to redo those copies.” Julia paused and looked at the stack of papers and files on her desk. At that moment, she realized she had reached her limit. She had nothing left. “You know what? I think I’m going to take the rest of the day off.”

“No problem,” Kelly said. “I’ll clear your schedule for you.”

Julia hung up the phone, leaned back in her oversized, black leather chair, and filled her lungs with as much air as possible. Letting let her breath out slowly, she felt less stressed.

Yes, that girl definitely needs a raise. And I need to go home...

Julia let out a sigh of relief as she walked through the front door of her two-story house. I just want a bath and a glass of wine. I need to apologize to Brian. I shouldn’t have been so harsh. Maybe we’ll order in. Scanning the mail, Julia kicked off her shoes, letting them fall to the floor with a thud. Hearing a Bruno Mars song coming from the other room, she paused. Using slow movements to prevent making noise, Julia placed her keys, purse, and the mail on the entryway table. Brian should be working. She heard voices coming from the other room. Who’s here? Is someone in the house?

“Hello?” She said softly. Julia stepped cautiously, following the sound of the music. It seemed to be coming from the living room. She moved to the entryway, her hands shaking, fearful of what she might find.

She froze in shock, unable to move her body, though she wanted—no, needed—to run out of the house as quickly as possible. Maybe then it wouldn’t be real. Julia swallowed hard as the perfectly shaped thighs of a woman flexed with each movement while she continued to ride on top of Brian. Her long, silky blonde hair moved across her back like a wave. Julia’s gaze landed on her husband’s hands as he cupped the slut’s two large breasts while they bounced up and down.

“Brian.” Julia softly spoke a single word. She wasn’t sure if he heard her. She watched as he bit his lip in the ecstasy of physical pleasure. Who the hell is she? How could he do this?

“Brian!” Julia yelled. Her heart bounded so hard, she could feel her pulse in her fingertips. She tried to catch her breath, but felt as if the all the air had left the room.

Brian and the woman both turned to see Julia standing in the entryway of the living room. He pushed the woman off his lap and sat in front of her, blocking her from Julia’s view.

“Jules,” Brian said. “You’re not supposed to be home.”

“Wow,” Julia said. She let out a sarcastic chuckle. “I’m sorry about that. Next time I’ll call first.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Brian said. “I’m sorry, I just—”

“I don’t care, Brian. Don’t even bother trying to rationalize or explain this. We’re done.” Julia walked into the room and moved to where Brian’s keys sat on the coffee table. Picking them up, she removed his house key. “I’ll be home at 8:00. Make sure that neither you, your clothes, or your whore are here. We’ll sort the rest out in court.”

“Jules—” Brian stood up and started putting his clothes on.

Picking up Brian’s wallet, she removed the ATM card for their joint account. She’d have to call the bank and have his name removed tomorrow. There was no way she was giving him a penny more than she had to. He could survive on the credit cards he paid for, the bastard. She tossed his wallet at him. “Don’t call me Jules.” She turned around and walked out the door without looking back.

Driving away in her rental car, she saw Brian in her rear view mirror standing on the front step yelling out for her. Once she turned onto the highway, Julia allowed the tears to fall. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry, but she had loved Brian. She knew there were issues with their marriage, but she hadn’t thought they were serious. Now, she felt like an idiot. Now what do I do?

Chapter 2

“To divorce,” Deb, one of Julia’s closest friends, held her wine glass over the center of the round table. Julia knew her friend meant well, but as the wounds of her divorce were still fresh, the toast didn’t inspire the reaction Deb must have hoped for.

“How about we drink to better days ahead,” Mia, Julia’s best friend, said and held up her mixed drink, clinking her glass with Deb’s. She had met Mia during their freshman year at Ohio State University. They had been inseparable ever since.

“Here’s to better days ahead for all of us.” Deb agreed.

Now that she could drink to. Julia lifted her glass along with Wendy and Grace to join in the toast. “To better days,” Julia said. The glasses clinked and tinged and then there was a silence at the table. They pity me. Julia watched her friends over the rim of her glass. They all gave her their best fake smiles. None of them had shared any of their recent drama with her, and that was not normal for this group. They think I’m fragile. That I’ll break.

“Okay,” she said. She set her glass down on the table, leaned forward, and placed her folded hands in front of her. “Enough is enough. You guys need to quit treating me as if I’m a china doll.”

“What are you talking about?” Grace reached under her hair and scratched at her neck. Her tell. She did that when she was nervous, anxious, or lying.

“Shut up, Grace,” Julia leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not stupid. Not one of you has shared any of your crap with me in months.” Julia pointed at each of her friends individually. “Not. One. Of. You. So either your lives have miraculously become perfect or you’re trying to protect me because you think I can’t handle it.”

Mia remained quiet, picked up her drink, and swirled the ice cubes around in the glass. “What’s wrong with that?” she said, taking a sip. “Besides, there’s really nothing going on these days. Is there ladies?”

Her friends nodded and agreed.

“Oh, nothing’s going on, huh? So, you finally talked to Richard about not being ready to move in together. Right, Deb?”

Deb shrugged. “Not exactly, but there’s no hurry. I can have that conversation any time.”

“And Wendy, you talked to our boss? So you got your raise then? Or you handed in your resignation, right?”

Wendy shook her head, leaning toward the table. “I decided I was being too hasty. I’m going to think on that one for a while. Can’t afford to be unemployed in this economy.”

“Okay, Julia,” Mia interrupted. “We get the point. You’re calling us on our shit. None of us are doing as well as we let on. But we didn’t want to put all our crap on you with what you were dealing with.”

“Did you ever think that maybe being there for my friends and helping them with their problems would have made me feel better?” Julia grabbed her napkin off her lap and tossed it on top of her plate. “Did you?”

The girls looked back and forth at each for a few moments. Julia realized how silly she was being and covered her mouth as a giggle slipped out. Wendy looked away from the group as a smile overtook her. Deb covered her face with her hands, unable to hold in the amusement. Mia tossed her napkin at Julia as the table was overtaken with laughter.

The laughter died down, and Julia glanced around the table. I’m lucky to have such great friends.

“Hey,” Deb said. The excitement in her voice was obvious. “I have a great idea. Why don’t we do a girls’ only weekend? A getaway?”

“And go where? Vegas?” Wendy made a disapproving face as she reached for her wine glass.

“No, go on a real vacation – some place warm and tropical. Somewhere we can sit on the beach, drink sweet concoctions out of tall glasses with little umbrellas, and visually assault the tanned, hard bodies as they walk along the –”

“I’m in,” Mia interrupted. It didn’t take much to convince Mia. “I have vacation time that I would love to use. When do you want to go?”

“I could probably get a full week off next month,” Grace said. She picked up her phone and began tapping the screen. “Yep. I can take off either the first or the second week.”

Julia followed Grace’s lead and picked up her phone. Checking her calendar, she looked to see if she was available. Do I want to go? I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe I should lie and say I can’t make it that week. No, Wendy works with me so she will know and call me on it. Dammit. Fine. I’ll just go. “I’m available,” she said. She placed her phone on the table and picked up her drink. Dammit. “And while you ladies finish figuring this out, I’m going to the restroom.” Julia stood up from the table.

“I’ll come with you,” Mia said. “Give me a second.”

“I’ll meet you in there.” Julia moved quickly, making her way through the restaurant. Turning the corner, she ran into the broad and rock solid chest of a man coming from the other direction.

“Oh god,” she said. She felt strong hands grab her arms to steady her. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Julia looked up at him. He was at least six feet tall, and had milk chocolate brown eyes.

“Easy there. No worries,” he replied. His voice was deep and full. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Julia said.

“Can you stand on your own?”

“I think so.” Julia stared into his eyes. They were almost as mesmerizing as the leathery smell of his cologne. It had been a long time since she’d come close enough to smell the base notes in a man’s scent.

“If not, I can help you back to your seat. Or maybe we can get a table and talk until you feel better.”

Julia looked at the man for a moment, taken in by his dashing good looks. He’s so hot. Why does he have to be so hot? She let out a long deep breath. Nope. Brian was hot and look what that got me? A cheating husband and a naked blonde chick in my living room.

“Thank you for the offer,” Julia said, “but I’ll pass.”

“You sure?” he said, taking a small step closer. “We could have a lot of fun.”

Mia stepped up and stood beside Julia. “Everything okay?”

She probably had her claws at the ready to defend her friend. “Yep,” Julia replied. “Everything’s fine. We were just saying goodbye.”

The man smiled, showing off the large dimple on the left side of his cheek. Julia let out a small, quiet sigh over the missed opportunity. Julia offered a little wave and then locked arms with Mia, moving down the hall making their way to the bathroom.

“You’ve still got it, Julia. We’re going to have so much fun on this vacation.”

Chapter 3

“Did I mention that I hate airports?” Julia glared at Mia.

“Only a million times before and on the flight.”

Why did I ever let them talk me into this? “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yes.” Mia said. She chuckled. “Look.” She pointed to the sign over the luggage carousel. “See. Flight 555 from Miami to Saint Lucia. That’s us.”

“Saint Lucia.” Julia pulled her long red hair off her neck and fanned herself with her hand. “Whose idea was it to come to Saint Lucia?”

“Mine,” Wendy said. She walked up from behind and bumped Julia with her hip. “It’s gorgeous. You’re going to love it. And they actually had a girlfriends’ getaway package. But, with five of us, and only two to a room, one of us has to room alone.”

“I will,” Julia said without hesitation. “I’ll take the single room. I don’t mind. Really.” I’m going to need the alone time. This is already a bit much for me.

“Okay,” Mia said. “On one condition. You can’t stay in the room all the time–”

“And you have to do all the activities that Deb and I have planned,” Wendy interrupted. She smiled sweetly. “Unless, of course, you meet a really cute guy.”

“Fine.” Julia agreed to their terms. It was easier than trying to barter with them, and it meant she got her own room.

“Oh, there are my bags,” Wendy moved quickly to the conveyor belt to pull her blue suitcase and black duffle bag onto the floor at her feet.

Deb stepped up, grabbed Mia’s luggage, passing it off to her and then grabbed her own. Grace pulled her bags off and looked back at Julia. “Where’s yours?” she said.

“I don’t know,” Julia said. “They haven’t come out yet.”

“Aren’t those yours?” Mia pointed to a green suitcase as Julia watched it and her red duffle bag move past them on the belt. She moved quickly, reaching out for it. As she moved to grab the bag, her shoe fell off and she nearly tripped. Grabbing her red, open-sided flat, she pulled off the other shoe and turned to run after her bags. Standing a few feet away was an attractive young man, holding her bags, one in each hand.

“I see you lost your shoe,” he said. “Running after your luggage?”

Julia nodded. “I guess you could say I’m the Cinderella of the airport.”

“That must make me your Prince Charming?”

Julia stood speechless for a moment. “Something like that, I guess,” she said. She stuttered a bit, chuckled, and reached for her bags. “But actually, you found my bags, not my shoe.” She caught his gaze and smiled. “Thank you for catching them.”

“Go ahead and put your shoes back on, Cindy,” he said. “I’ll hold your luggage while you do.”

Julia reached down and put her shoes on, never taking her eyes off him. She noticed his gaze dart down to the plunge of her neckline and watched his chest rise as he breathed in deep. Clearing his throat, he glanced away and back to her eyes. Julia stood up quickly. She glimpsed at her cleavage and wasn’t sure whether to be embarrassed or proud. “I’m Seth, by the way. Seth Knight.”

“Julia Turner.” Julia closed her eyes and winced. Why did I just tell him my name? I told my name to some strange guy in a foreign country. This is how every episode of CSI starts.

“Nice to meet you, Julia,” Seth said. “Are you here with your husband?”

“No. I’m divorced.” Oh my god! What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I tell him that? Now I’ve told a stranger no one is home waiting for me. “I’m here with my friends.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don’t be. He was a cheating bastard.”

Seth reached out to return her luggage. Julia took them, brushing his large hands as she grasped the handle on the suitcase. She couldn’t help noticing his toned, muscular arms. Arms that likely led to a toned chest, abs. Maybe I should stop right there. She sighed and placed the bags on the floor at her feet. “It’s nice to meet you too, Seth. It’s nothing personal, but I’m a little jaded right now. And it’s not that you’re not gorgeous, because, well, you are.”

“Thank you.” Seth shifted his weight and tucked his hands in his pockets. Julia’s eyes drifted to his crotch.

Come on! Fuck! He’s doing that on purpose. “And, from the way you were checking out my tits a moment ago, I know what you were thinking. But the last thing I want or need right now is the company of men.”

“Of course,” Seth took a step back and bowed at his waist slightly, resembling a knight from King Arthur’s court. “My apologies.”

“No need to apologize.” Julia tossed the strap of her bag over her left shoulder and positioned it as comfortable as possible. “I’m very flattered.”

“But if I may be so bold,” Seth retrieved his lost step, taking another to close the distance between them even further. “Any man that let you get away, let alone not give you every moment of his attention is an idiot.”

“I, well, he, we just...” Julia’s words stammered as she tried to comprehend Seth’s statement.

“And I am truly sorry that we met at the wrong time,” Seth leaned in closer, his words soft. Julia smelled the crisp oak scent of his cologne. “I would have been my pleasure to give you the attention you deserve. I think we could have been great together.”

Julia let out the breath that she had unknowingly been holding. Feeling the warmth rising from her chest, she placed her hand at the exposed skin just under her neck to hide her inevitably reddening complexion. “Um, okay,” she said, flustered she stumbled over her words. “Thank you, for, my bags, and my shoe. And the arms. Oh, yeah, thank you.”

Seth smiled and gently moved a stray stand of hair of out Julia’s face, twisting it around his finger as he moved it to the side. “You’re welcome. Have fun with your friends.”

Mia came up to stand on Julia’s left, Wendy on her right. Julia watched as Seth walked away, pulling his own rolling suitcase behind him.

“Mmm. Nice. So what was that all about?” Mia asked absently. The women kept their eyes on Seth, his toned legs flexing with each step he took.

“Whatever it was,” Wendy said, “it was fun to watch.”

Seth moved out of sight, and Mia and Wendy moved in front of Julia, turning to face her. “Spill,” Wendy said. She put her hands on her waist and pushed her hip out to the side. “Did you get his number?”

Mia crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought you weren’t interested in meeting any men on this trip.”

“I’m not,” Julia snapped. She grabbed the handle on her suitcase, pulling it up until it snapped into place. “And I told him as much.” Julia turned her back and began walking in the other direction.

“You did what?” Mia moved quickly into her path, placing her hands on Julia’s shoulders to stop her. “You told him that?”

“I lost my shoe and made some stupid remark about being Cinderella. Then he made a comment about being my Prince Charming. So yes, Mia,” Julia glared at her friend. “I told him I wasn’t looking to be around men right now.”

Mia and Wendy looked at each other and smiled.

“Stop that.” Julia pointed at her friends with her freshly manicured finger. “Don’t you even start your scheming bullshit.” Julia let out a long, loud sigh. “Can we please go to the hotel now? I’d like to change out of these sweaty clothes. And you promised me a very large drink with a cute little umbrella.”

Wendy grabbed the bag off Julia’s shoulder and smiled at her friend. “I totally agree,” she said. “It’s time for drinks.”

Mia grabbed the suitcase handle out of Julia’s hand. “Big fruity drinks it is.” Mia loaded their bags onto a large cart and they made their way out of the airport where Deb was flagging down a cab. They packed in tightly, listening to Deb and Wendy explain their scheduled plans and activities for the week.

Once they arrived at the hotel, Julia took a moment to bask in the beauty of their surroundings. The foliage was a subterranean green the likes she had never seen. The ocean breeze felt moist on her face, and the penetrating warmth from the sun seared her ivory skin. She watched people flitter about, feeling a pang of jealousy as couples moved arm in arm, stopping to take a selfie or steal a kiss.

“Come on, Julia,” Deb stood at the open hotel doorway. “We’ve got a weekend of fun ahead of us. What are you waiting for?”

Julia smiled and scoffed. She moved toward Deb and grabbing her hand, and the pair quickly caught up with their friends. Standing at the reception desk, the extravagance of the hotel caused Julia to pause. She began to feel the excitement of the vacation setting in. She wanted to hurry the man behind desk. If this is the lobby, I can’t wait to see our rooms.

“Miss?” The concierge said.

Julia turned to look at him, he held out a small brochure with the hotel logo on the front. “Me?” she said. “Oh, yes. Sorry.”

“This is for you.” He moved the brochure closer. Julia took it from his hand and opened it. “It contains your room keys, the Wi-Fi password, the on-demand radio stations and television listings, as well as your weekend’s itinerary.”

“Thank you,” Julia said. She tucked the brochure into the front pocket of her purse. The concierge tapped the gold bell sitting on the counter three times. Within seconds, three young men dressed in black shorts and red tops walked toward them.

“These young men will show you to your rooms and help you with your bags.”

“Um, Julia,” Wendy said. Her voice was high and she sang her words like a tune. “Isn’t that your Prince Charming?” Wendy lifted her head and motioned to a group of men standing further down the reception counter.

Julia turned to look and gasped. It was Seth. He was even more handsome in the sunlight. As if drawn to her, Seth turned her direction, smiled and winked.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered.

Mia leaned in and rested her chin on Julia’s shoulder. “I’m thinking the universe has plans for you this weekend. You can’t fight it, sweetie. Julia, meet Mr. Destiny.”

“Shut up, Mia,” Julia said. She chuckled, shrugging her friend off her shoulder. “I don’t believe in destiny.”

“I think you will after this weekend,” Grace said, patting Julia lightly on the cheek. The women laughed as they left the reception desk. Julia walked behind her friends as they followed the bellhops carrying their bags toward the elevators. She glanced back and caught sight of Seth watching her and the hair on the back of her neck prickled. Meeting his gaze, she gave a little wave. Before rounding the corner and moving out of sight, Julia watched the men in Seth’s group push him, punch his shoulder, and give him a high five.

Men. All just a bunch of oversized boys. Julia shook her head, but her bewilderment was soon replaced with a smile. She remembered Seth’s invigorating scent, his toned arms, the things he said that left her grasping for her own words. She shivered, reliving the sensation of her hair wrapped around his finger. Her mind began to wander. I bet he has a great body. And I bet he would be great revenge sex.

Chapter 4

“I don’t think I’ve danced like that in years,” Mia grabbed a napkin off the table and dabbed her forehead and the skin over her top lip. “That was awesome.”

“That was kind of obvious when you started breaking out those eighties dance moves,” Grace said. Pulling out a chair, she sat down, and pushed her long blonde hair off her shoulders. Laughter roared from the women as the rest of the group took seats around the table.

“Thank you,” Julia said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve laughed this hard, and had this much fun and ... Well, just thank you for helping me through the last year. I don’t think I would have made it without all of you.”

“Aw,” Wendy gave Julia a sideways hug. “We love you, honey.”

“Yeah, Julia.” Deb reached across the table and placed her palm over Julia’s hand. “You’ve always been there for us, helping us with all of our shit. It’s the least we can do.”

A waitress approached the table holding a tray of drinks. “Excuse me ladies,” she said and began moving the drinks from the tray to the table. “These drinks are from the gentlemen over there.” The waitress nodded her head toward a table of men at the other end of the room.

Moving in unison, the women turned their heads. Siting at the table were five very attractive young men dressed in suit and ties, including Seth. The men nodded or waved in acknowledgement.

“You’ve got to kidding me.” Julia’s words tinged with a sarcastic chuckle.

Mia reached over, grabbing the drinks one by one and passed them around the table. She held up her drink to toast the men. “Thank you,” she said. The men held up their drinks in response.

“Wow,” Wendy said. “Those are some hot guys. Especially Julia’s Mr. Destiny.” She teased and took a drink, keeping her gaze on the men as they spoke among themselves.

“Yes, they are,” Grace said. “Very hot.”

“And I’m not afraid to admit that I am thinking some very naughty thoughts right now.” Wendy folded her arms on the table and leaned forward, pushing her chest out. ”

“So maybe one of them will spank you for being a bad girl.” Julia nudged her friend with her elbow and took another drink. “Or maybe you can spank him.” Laughter erupted once again. Julia looked around the table and watched her friends for a moment. Her heart felt full and her mind felt free.

“Well, lookie there,” Grace said and sat back in her chair, crossing her legs. “I do believe we’re about to have company.” Turning to look, Julia watched Seth and the other men walk across the room in their direction. She quickly turned away and scooted up to the table, gripping her glass between both hands.

It’s fine. It’s no big deal. Just say hi and then let everyone else talk. The men stood at the end of the table and Julia looked up.

“Ladies.” A tall blonde man spoke up. “May we join you?”

Mia shrugged her shoulders at the others. Julia looked around the table for their reactions. Dammit. Someone say something. No one did. No one seemed to object, so she grinned and nodded her approval. “Sure. Why not? Pull up some chairs boys – and maybe another table.”

The men moved things around and within a few minutes, the two groups were mingling. Somehow, without her noticing, Seth had claimed a seat next to her. He pulled out her chair and everyone took their seats.

“So,” Mia sat up at the table and picked up her glass. “What do you guys think of St Lucia so far?”

“It’s great,” the blonde man said. “I’m Kevin by the way.” He held out his hand to Mia. “And that’s Frank, Paul, Devin, and I believe you know Seth.”

The women made their introductions, and Kevin ordered another round for the table. “What brings you ladies to the island?” Kevin asked.

“A girls’ get-a-way vacation,” Grace answered. “We all needed some down time and what better place to do it than a tropical island.”

“What about you boys?” Mia asked.

Speaking in unison, the men answered. “A wedding.” Laughter erupted, which sounded much louder than it actually was due to a lull in the music from the DJ.

“Sorry about that folks,” the DJ said. “Technical difficulties. But were back and here is something to make you tap your toes.” The lyrics to “Five Hundred Miles” streamed through the speakers.

“I love this song,” Wendy said. She sat up tall in her chair and began bouncing to the beat of the music.

“Want to dance?” Kevin, who seemed to be the ringleader of the group, stood and held his hand out to Wendy. She looked down at it and then back up at his face, a smile overtaking her lips.

“Absolutely,” she said. Taking his hand, they moved to the dance floor. Other men in the group took their cue and asked Mia, Deb, and Grace to dance as well. Julia and Seth remained at the table.

“Dance with me?” Seth said. He turned his body in his chair to face Julia more directly and held out his hand.

“I don’t know,” Julia replied. She folded her arms over her chest and looked at it warily.

“I know you like to dance.” Seth grinned mischievously. “I saw you dancing with the girls earlier. You’re good.” He leaned close and whispered. “And very sexy when you move.”

Julia felt her stomach muscles quiver. Thinking about him watching her made her mouth dry and her pulse quicken. Every sense she had heightened, magnified, including her senses of want and need. She tried to remember what movements she had made on the dance floor, hoping there wasn’t anything too embarrassing.

“Why would you want to dance with me?” She turned to meet Seth’s gaze. “I’m probably twelve years older than you.”

“So?” Seth used his fingertips to push Julia’s hair behind her ear. “What does our age have to do with dancing?”

“Wouldn’t you rather hang out and dance with someone your own age?”

“If I found a woman my own age that was as charming, as beautiful, and as sexy as you are, maybe. But I doubt she exists. So I want to hang out and dance with you.”

“I don’t know, Seth. I don’t think –”

“Is it an issue for you that I’m younger? Does my age bother you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then why should it be an issue for me that you’re older? One dance.”

Dammit. Fucking logic. “Fine,” Julia said. Her tone testified to her reluctance. “One dance.”

Seth stood from his chair and again held out his hand to Julia. Placing her hand in his, she looked up and stared into Seth’s sparkling eyes. She was captivated.

They made their way to the dance floor, the tempo of the music changed. It was no longer a toe-tapping fast-paced tune, but instead a super ballad, loved by women everywhere – “I’m Gonna Find Another You,” by John Mayer.

“Do you like this song?” Seth wrapped his hand around Julia’s waist and pulled her in close.

“I love it,” Julia replied, putting one hand on his neck and the other on his right bicep. So hard, toned. “It’s a great song.” My god he smells good. Why does he have to smell so good?

“So what happened last night?” Grace interlocked her arm with Julia as they walked through the extravagant hotel lobby toward the restaurant. “Did you kiss him?”

“No, Grace,” Julia bumped her hip into Grace’s. “I didn’t kiss him. “ But I really, really wanted to.”

“Then why didn’t you,” Wendy moved to the other side of Julia. “He’s really cute. And I bet he’s got a really big –”

“Wow. You actually went there.” Julia laughed. She pulled away from her friends and turned around, walking backwards to the restaurant door. “You guys want to go ahead and plan our wedding while we’re at it?”

“Nope,” Mia said. “We figured you guys would just elope and then you’d come back pregnant.”

“Good morning, ladies,” the hostess greeted them. “Table for five? Would you like a seat inside or on the terrace?”

“The terrace please,” Julia said. Turning to offer her friends a smug smile, Julia answered for them.

“Well, well, well,” Mia said. “Look who’s growing some balls.”

Along with her friends, Julia followed the hostess out on the terrace to their table. As they sat down, Mia saw Seth sitting alone at the other end of the patio. “Now’s your chance. Go talk to him,” she said. She nudged Julia. “At least go say hi or something.”

“Okay,” Julia said. What am I doing? She could feel butterflies opening their wings in the pit of her stomach. This is stupid. I’m just going to say hi. “How do I look?”

“Gorgeous,” Grace said. “Now go!” Grace spun Julia around and swatted her butt to nudge her toward Seth’s table.

Julia smiled, adjusting her hair and pulling at her top to show more of her cleavage. She took a deep breath as she moved closer, and her nervousness morphed to excitement. She remembered his hands on her waist, the feel of his firm physique against her body, the smell of his cologne. She wanted more.

Seth stood up from his table. His face lit up and he offered a wide mouthed smile as a beautiful young blonde woman ran towards him, practically jumping into his arms. Julia felt her heart sink.

What the hell? Julia stopped walking and stood still, her only movement the rapid rise and fall of her chest. I don’t understand. Julia turned sideways to look at her friends. Or maybe I understand perfectly. They had seen the woman as well. Mia took a step toward Julia, but Julia put up her hand and shook her head telling Mia to stop.

Taking one last glance at Seth, Julia gasped. She realized he had seen her. She moved quickly toward the door of the restaurant and didn’t stop until she reached the elevator. “Fuck,” she said under the breath. I should have known better. Why did I let them talk me into this shit? I came here to get away from men. What the hell am I doing? They’re all the same. Lying cheats.

Julia pushed the button on the wall numerous times in quick succession. “Come on,” she hissed, looking up at the numbers over the elevator. The large golden doors open and she moved inside. Turning to face the doors, she watched Seth racing towards the elevator.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Julia said. “Nope. Not going to happen.” She reached out and pressed the close doors button. The doors began to close and she held her breath as a hand appeared between them, causing them to reopen and allowing Seth to join her. Julia thought of disembarking from the elevator, but Seth stood in the way, making it impossible for her to get by without having to make contact.

The doors closed a second time, and Seth pushed every single button on the panel, lighting up all twenty floors. “Julia, you have to let me explain,” Seth said.

Like hell I do.

Chapter 5

“Why did you do that?” Julia gestured towards the button panel, stepped to the back of the elevator, and pushed her back against the wall. The wooden railing felt cool against her palms. She wrapped her fingers around it to steady herself and to give her something less dangerous to do with them.

“Now we have more time to talk,” Seth said. He stood in front of the door, putting his hands in the pockets of his khaki shorts.

“Talk about what?” Julia looked up at the numbers over Seth’s head. Each one lit up, and Seth looked over his shoulders as the doors opened and then closed behind him.

“I saw you,” Seth said, taking a step closer. “On the terrace. Why did you run away?”

“Because I saw you, too.” Julia nervously crossed her arms over her chest, and then quickly returned her hands to the railing. “And I saw the woman you were with.”

“And?” Seth took another small, slow step. The doors opened behind him but no one got on. Julia watched the large metal doors slide closed again.

“And, that’s the type of woman you should be with.” She trailed off, not wanting to believe her own words. “Younger, beautiful, and if you prefer them – which it seems a lot of men do, certainly my ex-husband – blonde.”

“Well,” Seth stepped closer. The earthy undertones of his cologne wrapped around her senses. To keep her extreme attraction to him inside, she wrung her fingers tightly around the railing behind her. God she wanted to touch him. They were alone. So close. His muscles were flexing along his forearms as if he too had to hold back. “I prefer redheads.” Seth reached up and twined the ends of Julia’s hair around his fingertips. A chill ran down the back of her neck. “But I’ll tell her you said she was beautiful and young. She’ll love you for that.” He turned his back against the wall to stand beside Julia, his shoulder touching hers. They both watched the elevator doors open and close, gaining no new passengers.

Don’t get sucked in. He’s hot, but don’t let him suck you in. “I don’t want you telling your girlfriend –”

“She’s my sister,” Seth interrupted. “My older sister.”

“Yeah right,” Julia said. “Like men haven’t been using that line forever.” Oh, god please be his sister.

“No, seriously,” Seth said. “She’s dating, well, now engaged to one of the groomsman. He popped the question last night while they were walking on the beach. She wanted to show me the ring, so we had breakfast together, or we were going to.”

The door opened again and an older man stepped inside. He looked to the console and upon seeing the entire display buttons lit, slowly turned to look at Julia and Seth.

“She did it,” Seth said, pointing at Julia. Julia nudged him with her shoulder.

“Stop it,” she whispered. “We’re sorry, sir.” She offered a smile and the man faced forward again.

Seth chuckled under his breath and leaned into Julia. She looked into his eyes for a moment and her stomach tingled. Staring at his lips, her mind wandered, and she found herself wanting to kiss him. I wonder what he tastes like. Does he kiss softly or hard and full of passion?

“We okay now?” Seth leaned over and whispered next to Julia’s ear. His warm breath on her bare skin made her muscles contract.

“Yes,” she said, keeping her voice low so only Seth could hear. “We’re okay. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to assume anything.”

“It’s okay.” Seth stood straight and pushed the hair off his face. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not...” Julia’s replied a bit too loud and she spoke through gritted teeth. She adjusted her volume and tried again. “I’m not jealous.”

“You are,” Seth said. He smiled smugly. The doors to the elevator opened and the man exited. As the doors were closing, he pushed his foot inside to stop them.

“I just wanted to tell you,” he said, the corners of his mouth turned up to a pleasant smile. “You two make a very cute couple.”

“We’re not –”

“Thank you, sir,” Seth said. He quickly moved to stand in front of Julia. “We really appreciate that.”

Julia felt Seth’s hand brush the side of her breast and it instantly heightened her senses. She caught her breath, focused on his fingers as they gentle rested on her forearm. The man stepped off the elevator and the doors closed behind him.

“What the hell, Seth?”

“Did you want to have a debate with him about us not being a couple?” Seth turned to face Julia, and folded his arms over his chest. He rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. “Or just let a man that we’ll probably never see again think whatever he wanted and go along his way?”

Julia leaned her head to the right, and looking around Seth, checked the elevator doors to make sure they were closed. As she drew back her gaze, she caught sight of Seth’s biceps and took a deep breath. She chuckled and let out the air in a huff. “Yeah, okay, but I’m not jealous.”

She looked down at the floor of the elevator to hide her eyes. She was afraid if Seth looked into them, he would see the truth, she was jealous. She was very jealous of the woman he claimed to be his sister. When he hugged her, Julia wanted to be the one in his arms.

“Prove it.” Seth slid his left foot closer and leaned in. He placed his left hand on the railing, directly next to Julia’s body.

“How?” Julia said. “How do you prove to someone you’re not jealous?” He smells so good. What is that? Aramis? Oh, man. Why does he have to smell so good?

The door opened and Julia leaned to look at the door again. Seth put his finger on her chin and pulled her back to center. “No. Look at me.” He slid his right foot forward and put his right hand on the rail, confining Julia between his muscular arms.

“But what if someone –”

“I don’t care about them.” Seth bent his head down, his mouth an inch away from her lips. “Right now, all I care about is you and me ...” Julia felt the heat from Seth’s breath on her face. The elevator dinged, the door closed, and they were in motion once again.

Julia closed her eyes and swallowed hard. Is someone in here? I want him to kiss me but not if someone is in here. Opening her eyes, she met Seth’s gaze and held his stare. Suddenly, Seth used the railing and pushed himself back. “... and getting you to say you’ll have a drink with me.”

Julia huffed. They were alone in the elevator. “Ass,” she said. He is such a tease. Why didn’t he just kiss me? He had the perfect opportunity.

“What?” Seth said. He stood beside Julia, leaning against the back wall. The elevator doors parted and three people boarded, smiling, and laughing.

They talked about some guy named Jack and how much he would love St. Lucia. Julia looked at Seth. He shrugged his shoulders.

“Ass.” She mouthed the word, hoping that repeating it would be more impactful. Seth chuckled.

“Did you want me to kiss you?” He whispered.

Julia glared at Seth, her eyes wide. “Shut, up,” she said. She gritted her teeth in a large fake smile.

“I will kiss you if you want me to. You’re very kissable.” Seth turned sideways, facing Julia. The other people in the elevator chuckled but didn’t turn around. “In fact, I would love to kiss you. Do you want me to kiss you right now?”

The elevator dinged, the doors opened, and the other passengers quickly exited. Turning to walk down the hall, they looked back at the couple and continued to laugh. Julia felt a warmth rise from her chest, move up her neck, and spread over her cheeks and forehead. It felt like those elevator doors stayed open for five minutes or more, but once sealed, Julia spun around to face Seth, giving him a firm shove.

Seth laughed, stumbling backwards against the opposite wall with a thud.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Julia snapped. “Why would you embarrass me like that?”

“Why were you embarrassed?” Seth said. He rubbed the area of his chest where Julia had shoved him.

“Those people were laughing at me. That’s why.”

“No, they were laughing at me. I was the one being an ass. Not you. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.” Seth smiled big, showing all his perfect teeth. “But you’re even cuter when you’re blushing than when you’re jealous.”

“Oh, shut up,” Julia said.

“I wonder what else would make you blush. Let’s find out.”

Seth grabbed Julia by the hand and pulled her close. Putting one hand on each side of her face, he gently touched his soft, warm lips to hers. She whimpered and placed her hands on his waist fisting the material of his shirt between her fingers. She no longer paid attention to the door of the elevator, or to who entered or exited. Seth kissed her again, parting her lips with the tip of his tongue. Julia opened her mouth and welcomed him in, their tongues slowly dancing.

Don’t do this. Julia wanted to resist him, to pull away and tell him that his advances were inappropriate. He’s too young. Her mind insisted that this was wrong, but every cell of her body was screaming how right it felt to be in his arms, to feel his touch, and to kiss his luscious lips.

Seth pulled back from their kiss and caressed her cheek. His breathing was as ragged as hers. “Have a drink with me tonight,” he said.

Looking over her shoulder, Julia was relieved to see they were alone. Only two buttons remained lit on the panel, the last one being her floor.

“Give me your phone.” Seth reached out and waited.

Still dazed from their kiss, Julia reached into the small purse slung across her body and pulled out her phone. Unlocking the screen, she placed it in his hand. She turned her head as the elevator door opened, suddenly feeling a sense of urgency, knowing she only had moments left with Seth.

Seth tapped on the screen, typed for a few seconds, and then handed the phone back to Julia. “Now you have my number. Text me when you’re free and I’ll meet you for a drink.”

Julia looked down at her phone to see the contact information for Prince Charming. “Really?” Julia lifted her head slightly and looked up at Seth. “Prince Charming?”

Seth smiled and lightly shrugged his shoulders. “It’s memorable.”

She looked at the screen again. “What if you’re busy?”

Seth pushed Julia’s hair behind her ear. “I’ll make an excuse not to be.”

The elevator door opened and she stepped back toward the exit.

Seth bent his head down and lightly touched his lips to hers. Putting his foot in front of the door to keep it open, he moved his mouth next to her ear. “I can’t wait to see you again,” he said. His voice was barely a whisper. His breath was warm on her neck.

Come to my room and I’ll show you all of me.

Chapter 6

As the elevator doors slowly came together with a hiss, Julia kept her eyes on Seth. Her cell phone text notification went off and she jumped. “Dammit,” she mumbled. Looking down at her phone, she realized how long it had been since she left her friends. Grace was texting her.

You okay?

I’m fine. Julia wasn’t about to text the details of her elevator encounter, but she would definitely tell them all about it when she met them for their next adventure – in about an hour. Sorry. Got distracted. Julia walked down the hallway to her room, trying not to walk into anything while texting.

Leaving for the volcano tour in about an hour. Will you be ready?

Yep. Meet you in the lobby. Just going to shower and change. Entering her room, Julia flipped the security lock, tossed her purse and phone onto the desk, and sat on the edge of the king size bed. Her mind filled with images of Seth, his large biceps, his beautiful smile, and how good he tasted when their lips touched. She could still taste that kiss.

Sliding her shorts and black panties over her rounded buttocks and down her legs, Julia kicked them off and away from her. She untied her tank top from around her neck, slowly peeling the material over her head. Her ample breasts now freed to the air-conditioned room, her nipples hardened, and a chill ran down her spin. Naked, Julia fell back onto the bed, enjoying the coolness of the bedspread against her skin.

The feel of her fingers on her own body was exhilarating. Julia ran her tongue over her dry lips to moisten them. Her fingertips traced a path down her rounded belly, causing her skin to react with goosebumps. A tingling migrated its way down her body and before she was aware of what was happening, her knees had dropped to the sides and she had opened her hot wet cunt to the cool air.

What is happening to me? When did I become so…wanton? A sense of adventurous guilt came over her. She turned her head and realized the curtains to the balcony were open. She didn’t know if anyone could see her, but just the thought of getting caught pleasuring herself just made her want it more. What if Seth saw me? What would he say? Would he just watch me, loving the way I touch myself? Maybe he would tell me what to do, to slow down, or go faster. Or would he take over, and fuck me ‘til I scream?

Julia felt the moisture growing between her legs. She reached down and ran her fingers through the small patch of hair on her pubic bone. Her middle finger eagerly found its way to her clit, and she gasped at the sensation of her own touch. She let out a soft breathy moan, sliding two fingers into her swollen heat.

Pulling her legs back, she placed her feet on the edge of the bed, giving full access to her own body. The fingers of her right hand gently pulsed in and out of her hot opening, while she used the middle finger of her left hand to massage her sensitive, swollen clit. “Oh, yes.” She kept her words soft, but they seemed to echo in the quietness of the room.

Seth. Her mind began to fill with thoughts of the handsome younger man. Oh, god, Seth. She began to fantasize about being with him, of letting go of her inhibitions and allowing herself to enjoy the pleasures of his magnificent form. Her mind conjured images of Seth wrapping his sweet lips around her stiff nipples. She closed her eyes and imagined Seth looking up at her as his tongue flicked at her swollen clit. The feel of his rough hands against the heightened sensitivity of her skin, caressing, touching, squeezing in all the right places. Fuck me, Seth.

Julia felt the passion in her body rising. Her muscles began to tighten around her fingers as she quickened the pace. Fuck me harder. She pictured Seth on top of her, looking down, thrusting himself deep inside. I’m going to come. Her breathing quickened and she took the side of her bottom lip between her teeth to keep from calling out. She massaged her clit faster and pushed her fingers deep inside her wet heat one last time. She held her fingers still inside the growing moisture, rubbing her clit hard and fast, building her orgasm to its fullest. All at once, the muscles around her fingers clenched. She let out a deep moan and arched her back as her body screamed out in pleasure. Her finger continued to massage her overly swollen clit, not stopping until her legs began to shake and a sense of exhaustion took over.

Julia put her arms out to her sides and hung her legs over the edge of the bed. She laid still and quiet, staring out the balcony door. The sky was a beautiful blue and there wasn’t a cloud in sight. She felt at peace. Maybe I should take a risk. What do I have to lose?

Pushing herself upright, Julia took a deep breath. “Fuck it,” she said.

Julia quickly showered and dressed in a pair of red shorts, and a white tank top. Grabbing her phone, room key, and purse, she danced around the room, and then opened the door to see her friends exiting their rooms as well.

“Let’s do this,” Julia said. She walked down the hall feeling confident, and ready for the next time she encountered Seth.

Chapter 7

“Okay, Zack,” Mia said, sitting on massage table and facing a young man with large arms and magic hands. “Which one of us do you think has the best boobs?

“Don’t answer that,” Grace said. “Trust me. This is a conversation you can’t win.” Grace laid face down on the table, wiggling out of her towel as a large breasted woman covered her backside with a white sheet.

“And the boob comparison conversation is how we know Mia has reached her limit of champagne. So let’s switch her to sparkling water.” Julia mimicked Grace’s actions. A man who bore a striking resemblance to Clay Matthews of the Green Bay Packers covered Julia’s ass with another white sheet – he claimed there was no relation. She asked. Maybe she’d had too much champagne.

After three days of one adventure after another, a chance to relax and be pampered was just what she needed. Forty-five minutes flew by as she and her friends sighed and moaned softly in pleasure during their group massage. As their sessions ended, they sat on the edge of the tables. Someone’s cell phone vibrated.

“There are no phones in here,” the blonde woman said. From her tone of voice, everyone knew she was in charge.

“Sorry,” Wendy said. “I thought I turned it off.” Wendy slid off the table and moved to her robe at the edge of the room. She quickly retrieved the phone from the pocket.

“You would go into cardiac arrest if you turned your phone off,” Deb said. “You fall asleep with that thing in your hand.”

“Shut up, Deb.” Wendy waited for the masseuses to exit and then looked at the screen.

Julia put on her robe and followed the other woman towards the locker room to get dressed. Wendy kept her eyes on her phone.

“You’re going to run into a wall,” Julia said.

“What?” Wendy looked up. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

“What is so interesting?” Julia stretched her neck to try to see Wendy’s screen.

“Nothing,” Wendy snapped. She pushed the button on the side of the device to turn it off. “Just stupid Facebook notifications.”

The group chatted as they dressed, and made plans for dinner and dancing. Suddenly, everyone’s cell phone vibrated one after another. Everyone except Julia’s.

“What is going on? I thought you guys said we weren’t going to be doing social media shit while we were here?” The group was quiet for a moment. Julia looked at each of them, staring at their screens on their phone. “Hello!” she said. “Remember me? What’s going on?” Wendy glanced at Mia and Deb.

“Guys stop it,” Grace said. She slapped her phone to her thigh. “Just tell her. She’s going to find out. Better to hear it from us.”

“Tell me what?” Julia suddenly felt scared and a bit uneasy. The group didn’t keep secrets but it appeared they were working very hard to keep something from her at the moment. “What’s going on?”

“Nice, Grace,” Mia said. Her words oozed with frustration and sarcasm. “You could have handled that better.”

“Dammit!” Julia slammed her shoes down to the floor. Someone better tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Deb handed Julia her phone. “This is what the notifications were about,” she said. “We just didn’t want you to get upset, or for it to ruin your vacation.”

Julia took the phone from Deb’s hand and stared at the screen. She put her hand on her stomach as she felt a wave of nausea. Her throat tightened, and she slowly lowered herself down into the chair behind her.

“You’re better off without him, honey,” Mia said. She moved closer to Julia and placed a hand on her shoulder. Julia barely heard Mia, staring at the picture of her ex-husband and his new bride, complete with a baby bump.

“He told me he didn’t want kids,” Julia said. Even to her own ears, her words were soft and full of pain. “I guess he just didn’t want them with me.”

“Did you really want them with him?” Wendy said. “Think about it. If you had a kid together, you would be tied to him for the rest of your life.”

“Yeah,” Grace added. “That’s the last thing you want. He’s a cheating bastard. You’re too good for him sweetie. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“Thank you, guys,” Julia said. She slowly held out her hand to return the phone, not remembering to whom it belonged. “I appreciate what you’re doing, really.” Julia quickly began to put on her shoes. “And it’s not that he’s with her that bothers me. It’s just that he looks so happy with her – with the woman he was cheating on me with.” She tied her shoe and stood up, hanging the thin strap of her tiny purse across her body.

“Honey,” Mia stood in front of Julia and held onto her hands. “You can’t let him get to you.”

“I know,” she said. She attempted to give her friend a smile. Pulling her hands free, she hung her head and started picking at the hem on her shirt. “And I’ll be fine. I just need to let it sink in and work through it in my head.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Wendy stood beside Julia and wrapped her arm around Julia’s shoulders, squeezing her lightly.

Julia patted her friend’s hand in appreciation. “Yes, sweetie,” she said, mustering the best smile possible. “I’ll be fine.” I have to get out of here. I can’t handle any more of this. “If you guys don’t mind, I’m going to go for a walk on the beach and clear my head. I’ll catch up with you later. Okay?”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Deb stood up and reached for her things.

“No,” Julia said. She stepped toward Deb and placed her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “But I appreciate the offer. You go. You guys have fun. I’ll meet you later.” And if not, I’ll see you at breakfast.

Julia kicked at the warm sand as she walked along the beach. Seeing what she thought was a blue pebble, she bent down and picked up a piece of clear blue sea glass. She ran her fingers over the smooth surface and continued on her way. Her thoughts drifted back to the day that ended her marriage – the images that haunted her for endless days and nights. We weren’t happy for a long time before that. Maybe our marriage was over and I just couldn’t see it – or didn’t want to see it. She let out a long sigh, feeling defeated.

She put her hand at the base of her neck and massaged her collarbone with her fingertips. Her mind began to wander, recalling the sound of Seth’s voice in her ear, the feel of his hands on her face, the taste of his lips. She remembered how he smelled, and how it felt to be in his arms as they danced.

A smile took over her face. She realized she was no longer thinking about Brian. I guess I just needed a good memory to chase away the shitty ones.

Julia felt lighter and walked a short distance down the beach to a spot that was nearly empty of people. Facing the water, she watched the sun began to fall in the sky. Wow. Look at those colors. So beautiful. I think I’ll stay here a while. The cool air off the ocean kissed her skin and blew her hair back off her face. She closed her eyes and allowed the sound of the waves to serenade her.

“Julia?” a male voice came from behind her. Julia turned around to see Seth and a few other men walking along the beach.

“Seth.” Julia smiled. Butterflies immediately took flight in her belly and she caught her breath. “Hi.”

“You didn’t text me.” Seth tossed a ball to his friend and walked toward her. He stood beside her, looking down. He shifted his weight and his muscular calves flexed, showing off their form. She looked up and caught sight of his sculpted abs peeking through his unbuttoned Hawaiian print shirt. Something in her stirred and she swallowed hard, trying to maintain control yet again.

“Yeah,” she said. She dug her toes into the sand. “I’m sorry. This is the first chance I’ve had to get away and I got caught up walking on the beach.”

“You shouldn’t be out alone,” he said, jokingly. “It’s going to be dark soon.”

Julia met his gaze and smiled. “So stay with me,” she said. “Then I won’t be alone.”

Seth gave her a slow smile and then turned to his friends. “Go on without me,” he yelled. “I’ll be there later.” His friends waved and Seth sat down beside her in the sand.

“So,” he said, he stretched out his legs and leaned back on his hands. “Where are your friends?”

“They went to dinner.” Julia bent her knees towards her chest, wrapping her arms around them. “I needed to clear my head so I stayed behind.”

“We have some time. Want to go get a drink?” Seth playfully bumped her with his shoulder.

“No.” She looked straight ahead, out to the ocean. “I like it here. It’s beautiful and I’ve never seen the sunset over the ocean.” She turned to Seth. “Will you stay with me?”

Seth copied Julia’s position, pulling his knees to his chest. “Of course,” he said. He looked out to the ocean and the two sat quietly as the sun kissed the horizon.

With the setting of the sun, the breeze off the ocean cooled. Julia wrapped her arms around her shoulders and rubbed them to brush off the chill.

“Are you cold?” Seth asked. “I can run up to my room and get you a jacket.”

“No,” Julia said. She quickly grabbed his arm to keep him from standing. Seth looked at her fingers wrapped around his wrist and grinned. Julia released her grip and tucked her hands under her arms. “I wouldn’t want you to miss the sunset.”

The couple sat quietly for a moment, the waves washing onto the beach the only sound. “You could just move closer.” She kept her eyes on the horizon and the beauty of the sunset. “You could keep me warm.”

Seth slid closer draping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his body. Julia tucked herself against his chest.

“Hold on,” he said. Seth used his arms and pushed himself up from the sand. Standing behind Julia, he sat down directly behind her with her between his legs. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and pulled her back against his chest. “That better?”

“Yes,” she said. Julia snuggled herself into his embrace and was thankful Seth couldn’t see her face. There was no way she could hide her smile. “Much better. Thank you.” She concentrated on her breathing, keeping it slow and steady. Being in Seth’s arms was making her feel things she thought were gone from her life long ago. Julia gently caressing his firm forearm with her fingers.

Seth brushed her hair aside and gently placed a kiss on her neck. She closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side, granting him permission to continue. He kissed her neck from her hairline to where it curved into her shoulder. Julia’s hands migrated down to Seth’s legs, putting her hands on his knees and running them down the length of his outer thighs.

Opening her eyes, she caught sight of the colors from the setting sun. The sky turned purple, with bands of deep yellow and orange tracing the horizon. “Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” she said.

Seth leaned to the side, put his fingers under her chin, and turned her face towards him. He looked into her eyes and Julia felt butterflies at big as bats in her stomach. “I have now.” Seth leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her lips.

She felt Seth’s excitement growing, hot and heavy, his length pressed against her lower back. He rained kisses down her neck and then over her shoulder before wrapping his arm around her waist.

She grabbed his free hand and slowly coaxed it under her shirt. Her breasts firmly tucked inside her bikini top, she allowed Seth to trace the roundness of her breasts with his fingertips. His rough, athletic hands were hot, stimulating her skin, causing her nipples to stiffen. I want him to touch me. I want him to touch me so bad. Still holding Seth’s hand, she guided his fingers under the bathing suit material to the heightened nerves of her extremely hard nipples.

His touch was pure pleasure on her body, but she wanted more. Needed more. She reached behind her and untied the bottom string of her bikini top. Sliding her thumb under the material, she released her breasts giving Seth all the access he needed. She arched into his hands as he cupped each one, pinching the sensitive nipples between his fingers. Seth’s rapid breath felt hot on her neck and shoulder.

“Excuse me,” a man’s voice came from behind them.

Oh, shit! Julia felt an adrenaline rush mixed with embarrassment. She had never been caught in the act before.

“Don’t move,” Seth whispered into her neck. His words mixed with a chuckle. “Hey, Jack,” he said. Seth answered without turning around. He pinched the bottom of Julia’s bikini top and covered her breasts, pulling the strings around the back and tying them in place.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, well, whatever this is,” Jack said. “But we have that dinner in about an hour and I figured you needed at least a little bit of time to get ready.”

Seth slowly pulled his hands from under Julia’s tank top and stood from the sand. “I’m just going to walk Julia to her room and I’ll be right there.” Reaching his hand out, he helped her up. Brushing the sand off her clothes and skin, Julia looked out at the horizon into the darkness of the sky and the blackness of the water.

“No problem,” Jack said and took off the other direction.

Julia held onto Seth’s arm as they walk in silence across the beach toward the hotel, across the lobby, and in the elevator. When they were standing in front of her hotel room, Seth wrapped his arms around her and kissed her gently on the lips.

“Can I see you again? Take you to dinner and maybe finally get that drink?”

Julia chuckled and took a step back, moving toward the room door. She took her room key out of her small bag and opened the lock.

“I should be done with this thing in about an hour, hour and a half max.”

She stood in the partially opened doorway and looked into his eyes. My god he’s hot. I could take him. Just have some fun. It won’t mean anything. Fine. Fuck it. That must be my new motto. “I’ve got a better idea. Stay right there,” she said. Julia rushed inside her room and grabbed her extra room key off the desk. Moving back to the door, she held it out to Seth. “I’m not sure why I’m doing this, but here.”

Seth looked at the room key and slowly reached up to take it from her fingers. “When you’re done, just come back up to my room. Let yourself in. I’ll be waiting for you.”

Seth smiled, tucking the key into his wallet and returning the wallet to his back pocket. “I will,” he said. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ll be back.”

Julia reached up, touched her lips with her fingertips, and watched Seth jog down the hall to the stairwell disappearing through the door. Pushing the door to her room open, she went inside.

“Oh, shit,” she said aloud. “I need a shower.”

Chapter 8

Julia stepped out of the shower, singing along to the music streaming out the speaker plugged into her iPad. She wrapped one towel around her body, drying her long auburn hair with another. Her mind raced, filled with images and feelings that all lead back to Seth. Running a comb through her hair, she walked into the bedroom and turned off the music. She heard the exterior door close and latch. Startled, she spun around quickly. He’s here. Seth stood in the entryway of the room. He was dressed in a white dress shirt, black suit pants, and a loose black tie hung around his neck.

Julia felt her pulse quicken, and her mouth became dry. She licked her lips. He’s actually here. “I thought

you –” Julia held the comb close to her chest.

“I blew them off,” Seth said. He moved slowly, deliberately toward her, moving his gaze up and down her body. “I’d rather be here with you.”

“Me, too,” she said. Seth continued to move toward her, one step after another. Julia shook her head slightly, realizing her words didn’t make any sense. Dammit. She nervously adjusted her towel. “I mean, I’d rather you’re here.” Her words began to stammer and she let out a deep sigh. “I meant to say that I would rather have you here with me.”

“From the minute I saw you sitting on the beach,” Seth continued to move closer, “I’ve wanted nothing more than to rip off your clothes and fuck you senseless.”

Julia felt the instant heat and moisture between her legs and shifted her weight. Seth took one last step and they were face to face. His hand moved up to her cheek, his fingertips traced her bottom lip, the outline of her jaw, the shell of her ear. She allowed him to run his hands through her long wet hair; he pushed it off her face. He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck and firmly pulled her toward him. “I want you,” he said, whispering his words into her partially open lips.

Swallowing her hesitation, Julia could no longer resist his advances and gave herself to him. She leaned forward and took his mouth on hers, pushing her tongue between his teeth to signal her compliance. She wanted him to take her, to take her body completely and fuck the image of her ex-husband out of her head. She wanted him to fuck her hard enough to break the memory free and replace it with a better one – one of her and Seth, together.

Seth pulled from her lips and began kissing her neck. She whimpered and drew in deep breath. She felt his hand gently reach down to her breasts and untuck the towel, letting it drop to the floor. This is really happening. Julia’s breathing increased and her pulse quickened. The cool air on her still damp skin sent goosebumps down her arms and legs, and made her nipples erect. Seth bent down, kissed her collarbone and the top of both her breasts. Wrapping his hands around the back of her thighs, he picked her up and carried her to the bed, gently sitting her on the edge of the mattress.

She watched Seth undress, slowly, seductively, teasing her without touching her. He tossed his tie to the side, unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time, exposing his toned chest and chiseled abs. Julia let out a sigh and licked her lips again. Seth removed a condom from his wallet and tossed it on the bed. Thank god. She had been so wrapped up in wanting to devour his body, a condom had slipped her mind. Seth unfastened his pants and pushed them over his hips, and the weight of the belt took them the rest of the way to the floor.

Holy shit. Julia’s gaze was drawn to his pelvic region. He has the V. That fucking V. She couldn’t help but smile and bite her lower lip with excitement. She looked up and met his eyes. He grinned, putting his thumbs in each side of his boxers and lowering them to the floor, kicking them off to the side. His fully erect penis was exposed and on display, inviting her to partake in all the pleasures it had to offer.

“Seth ...” Julia was at a loss for words. She was a strong woman, but at that moment, with this man, she felt vulnerable.

Seth leaned forward, putting one hand on the mattress beside her naked body, his movements resembling a stalking lion. Julia used her hands and feet and pushed herself further up on the bed. Seth followed, hovering over her. When she could go no further, Seth pressed his lips to hers, teasing the corners of her mouth with his tongue, and gently nipping at her full lower lip. He lowered himself onto the bed next to her, putting his hand on her waist and rolling her to face him.

Julia wrapped her arms around neck and raked her fingers through his thick hair. Seth wrapped his hand in her hair, and pulled her head back, exposing her neck and chest to him. She pushed out her breasts, hoping to feel his mouth on her skin. He fulfilled her desire, wrapping his warm lips around the overly sensitive bundle of nerves. She gasped. The excitement of his actions and the feel of his lips on her skin was a tease that heightened her passion and raised the titillation level to a point she didn’t think was possible. I want you Seth. Take me. Please, please just take me.

Julia responded to his touch with groans of approval. The more pleasure-filled noises she made, the more it seemed to fuel him. She reached down taking his erection in her hand, feeling the girth and firmness in her grip. Wrapping her leg over his, she rubbed against him, desperate for him to be inside her.

Julia’s heart raced as Seth dug his fingertips into the fleshy pads of her ass, rolling her on her back, and lifting her hips slightly off the bed. Julia blew a deep breath through pursed lips watching Seth reach for the condom, and quickly unroll it over his full hardness, and snap it into place. She held her breath as Seth positioned the tip of his erection at her swollen, wet opening.

“You want me?” Seth asked. He reached up and cupped her breast in his free hand.

“Yes,” Julia hissed. She raised her arms over her head and pushed her palms against the headboard.

“Tell me,” he said. She felt the tip of his penis rubbing against her wetness. Julia moaned at Seth’s touch, teasing her, using his thumb to massage her swollen clit.

“I want you, Seth.” Julia concentrated on the electricity shooting up her body, originating from his touch. Fuck me already.

Seth slowly rocked his hips forward, and Julia gasped, feeling his full length. She pushed her head back, and closed her eyes. “Oh, fuck!” She cried out, not caring if anyone heard her words. Seth leaned over Julia and she felt the heat from his arms on each side of her torso. She gripped his biceps as he began to rock back and forth, slowly sliding his long, hard penis in and out.

“You feel so good, Julia,” Seth said. His words caused a chill ran down her spine. “I knew you would.” He increased his speed and thrust harder.

“So do you,” Julia said through bated breath. “Please don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” Seth leaned back, pushed himself up on his knees, and grabbed Julia’s thighs, pulling her to him. Pushing himself inside her once again, he thrust deeper and faster. “I want you to come for me.”

The sounds of their flesh slapping together filled the room. Julia listened to his breathing, faster, harder, and she felt her ecstasy building, moving up her spine, filling her every sense. Her back arched and her muscles tightened as all the urgency she had for him came rushing out between her legs.

Julia met Seth’s gaze and he released her legs. Her mind and heart raced. Seth leaned forward, and Julia met his deep kiss, her tongue dancing with his. She could feel the head of his penis swelling inside her and wrapped her legs around his back. She felt his thrusts intensify, and he grunted with each one. Julia felt another wave of release building, more quickly this time. Seth’s kiss grew harder, deeper. Julia dug her nails into his shoulders. Her body responded with passion, her pelvic rocking with his.

Seth groaned into her mouth and then straightened his arms, thrusting hard one last time. As he slowed, Julia could feel the heat of his release inside her. He lowered himself down, and she welcomed the comforting feel of both the heat and weight of his body on hers.

Julia felt dazed, not sure of how much time went by before Seth got up and went to the bathroom. He returned with two bottles of water. After chugging half her bottle, Julia laid down on the bed next to Seth, staring out the balcony door at the moon. She soon drifted off to sleep; unaware that Seth had done the same.

Chapter 9

Julia woke up to the sun shining in through the balcony door. She rubbed her eyes and, realizing she was still naked, began to run through the events of the night before. I slept with Seth. Rolling over on her side what she found made her smile crinkle her eyes. Resting on the bed next to her was a white rose and a hand written note.

Meet me for dinner. 7 pm. Dasheen Restaurant at Ladera resort. The concierge will give you the address and get you a car. I’ve already taken care of it. I can’t wait to see you again. Seth

Julia laid on her back and held the note to her chest. She closed her eyes and thought about Seth, his touch, his smell, the power behind the orgasm that he had given her more than once.

What am I doing? Julia opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. What the fuck am I doing? He’s too young for me. And the last thing I want is to let myself start feeling something for someone. Someone I’m only going to know for a short time.

“Dammit!” Julia sat up on the edge of the bed and tossed the note on the floor. “Why did I let them talk me into this?” Grabbing her phone, she texted Mia to find out where to meet them. Mia texted back to meet in the lobby in a few minutes. Julia tossed her phone on the bed. “Dammit!”

Julia quickly dressed, grumbling and bitching as she did, and zipped out of her room to the elevator. When the doors opened on the ground floor, she spotted her friends in the lobby. They waved to her with smiles and laughter. Julia walked toward them with a determined gait, as she moved closer she pointed her finger.

“You,” Julia said. “You bitches did this!”

“Did what?” Mia said. “What the hell did we do?”

“How could we do anything?” Grace said. She playfully hid behind Deb to shield herself. “We haven’t seen you. You’ve been too busy bumping uglies with your prince charming!”

“That’s just it!” Julia stood in the center of her friends and glared at them all individually. “We’re supposed to be here on a girls' weekend. So, why the hell did you let me go off with some boy toy and let myself get all caught up hot sex?”

“So the sex was hot?” Wendy said. “I knew it would be hot.” She nudged Mia, raising her eyebrows and smiling. “How could it not be – did you see him? Damn!”

“Did you sleep with his friend?” Deb asked, looking at Wendy. “The one that you were dancing with? He was really hot, too.”

“No,” Wendy replied. “But we exchanged numbers. And he’s supposed to text me later so we can get together and have drinks. So fingers crossed that I get lucky.” Wendy crossed her fingers, closed her eyes tightly, and looked up at the sky.

“And that the sex is as hot for you as it seems to be for Julia,” Mia added. Mia teasingly ran her hand down Julia’s arm.

“Oh. My. God!” Julia put her hands out in front of her, fingers spread and looked into her empty palms. “Is no one listening to me?”

“We’re listening,” Grace said. She interlocked her arm through Julia’s and began walking away from the lobby. “We just think you’re being stupid, and we don’t care – but we still love you.”

The other women laughed and followed Julia and Grace to the restaurant where they were seated at a large table.

Julia sat in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “You guys really think I’m being stupid?”

The women looked at each other and then back at Julia. “Yes,” they replied in unison.

“Listen honey,” Mia said. She leaned forward and put her elbows on the table. “We understand that the last year or so has been hard.”

“We do,” Grace said.

“We get it,” Deb added.

“But,” Wendy continued, “What better way to get over your asshole of an ex-husband than to have a hot, steamy, fling with a handsome –”

“And hot –” Wendy said.

“Very hot –” Deb agreed.

“Young man like Seth?” Mia grinned at Julia. “You’ll probably never see him again.” Mia picked up her coffee and took a sip from the light blue cup. She placed it on the table and reached for a sugar packet. “Have your way with him. Fuck him ten ways to Sunday. Use him up. And then move on.”

“It’s not like you’re going to marry him,” Deb said. She picked up her orange juice and held it up to Julia.

“It’s just an island fling, sweetie,” Wendy said. “Don’t fight it. Just have fun. I know I will be, if I get a chance that is.”

“So you guys have no problem with all the time I’ve been spending with Seth?”

“Nope,” the girls said, again answering in unison.

“And if I were to tell you that he wants me to go to dinner with him tonight, at The Dasheen Restaurant, you’re all okay with me skipping out on you again?”

“Dasheen?” Mia sat up in her seat. “He wants to take you to Dasheen?”

“That’s what he said – or wrote actually.” Julia pulled the note out of her pocket and handed it to Mia. Mia snatched it from her hand and read it. Her mouth hung open and she smiled as she handed it back to Julia.

“Are you serious?” Deb put her hand over her mouth.

“Julia,” Wendy sat back in her chair and crossed her legs, gripping the arms of the chair with her fingers. “I love you, but if you don’t go to dinner with that man tonight, I will smack you.”

Julia looked confused. “I don’t get it? What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is that Dasheen is one of the most popular restaurants in all of the West Indies,” Grace said. “Chef Nigel is legendary and his food is to die for and it is hard as hell to get into.”

“We called the day we made our reservations for the hotel trying to get a table and they were booked.” Deb mindlessly stirred her coffee.

“Seriously?” Julia sat up the table. A slow smile took over her face. That’s interesting.

“So please, please tell me you’re going,” Wendy said.

“Only if you tell me that you’re going to text Seth’s friend,” Julia said, chuckling.

Chapter 10

Julia watched Seth step out of the back seat of the dark colored SUV and slowly bent over to adjust the strap on her high heels. Her hair draped over her face, curtaining down, barely touching the asphalt. She tilted her head up slightly, catching his gaze, and then gradually rolled her body to a standing position.

“Wow,” Seth said, looking her over from head to toe. “You look phenomenal.”

Julia pushed her hair back off her shoulders, showing off her well-displayed cleavage. “Thank you,” she said. She took a few steps and placed her hand on Seth’s shoulder, lightly kissing his cheek. “And you look very handsome.” Seth took her hand and helped her into the SUV, quickly following behind.

Seth nodded and the driver pulled out into traffic. “It will only take a few minutes to get there. It’s not far away, but I didn’t think you’d want to walk from our hotel in heels and a dress – especially not that dress.” Seth’s gaze moved to Julia’s body, almost caressing her with eyes.

“I appreciate that,” Julia said. She slid across the leather seat and moved her body up against his. She put her hand on his thigh and squeezed. “And I really appreciate you taking me to dinner. I’ve heard that this place is pretty exclusive, and it’s not easy to get a reservation.” Julia leaned over and kissed Seth’s earlobe. “I really, really appreciate you taking me.”

Seth closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his partially opened mouth. “I ... sure ... it’s ... yeah.” Seth’s words stammered as she inched her hand up his thigh toward the bulge growing in his pants. He turned his head and kissed her, grabbing the back of her head to pull her mouth tightly against his.

“Sir,” the driver said. “We’ve arrived.”

“Dammit,” Seth whispered onto Julia’s lips. “Thank you,” he replied. “Give us just a minute.” Seth pulled back from their kiss, and grabbed her hand from his thigh. “As much as I love your touch,” he kissed the back of her fingers. “And I do. I can’t very well go walking into this restaurant with a full-blown boner.”

Julia grinned and leaned back against the leather. “Okay,” she chuckled. “You’re right. I’ll behave – for now.” Julia ran her hands through the back of her hair and pulled out a small compact from her purse. Reapplying her lipstick, she reached out to wipe the red tint from Seth’s lips.

“Wait,” Seth said. He took the compact from Julia’s hand. “You better let me do it or we’ll never get out of this car.” Julia smiled and watched Seth attempt to wipe remnants of her lipstick from his cheek, and earlobe. He snapped the compact closed and handed it back to Julia. “So,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Are we ready?” Julia nodded.

The driver helped Julia from the SUV and she then took Seth’s arm. She did her best not to look like a tourist as they walked through the Ladera resort. The local foliage, dark natural flooring, and the beautiful intricate woodwork were breathtaking.

“So beautiful,” she whispered. Seth gave her a sweet smile.

“I agree,” he said. Julia looked up and their eyes met. Seth winked at her, and she understood he wasn’t agreeing with her about the splendor of the space before them. She felt her face get warm, reached up, and touched her cheek.

“Right this way,” the hostess said.

Julia continued to look around as they made their way to their seats. “Here are you.” The hostess motioned to a table on the terrace with a view of the mountain range and the beach. Julia jerked to a stop, putting her hand over her mouth.

“Oh, my god. That is breathtaking.” The hostess smiled, placing menus on the table, and motioning for a waiter.

“Enjoy your meal,” she said. Julia looked at her and nodded, then quickly turned her gaze back to the view.

Seth pulled out Julia’s chair, waited for her to get comfortable and then moved to his own. “Do you like it?” he asked.

“I love it,” she replied, her words mixed with excited laughter. “Thank you so much for bringing me here.” Julia looked at Seth. Why did he bring me here? He could have brought anyone – one of his friends, his sister. Why me?

“Wait until you taste the coconut risotto,” he said. “I haven’t had Chef Nigel’s, but I’ve had it in several places in the states and it’s delicious – if you like coconut that is.”

Julia listened to Seth order the wine, she agreed when he asked if he could order appetizers for the table, and was impressed when he knew to ask the waiter about the chef’s special. How did a man so young get so refined and sophisticated? Damn. I like him.

After ordering their meals, they began talking, sharing details about themselves.

“So what is it you do exactly?” Seth asked, taking a sip of his wine. “You never did tell me.”

“I’m a marketing communications manager,” Julia replied. “I know.” She took a sip of her own wine and placed the glass on the table. “Sounds boring.”

“Not really.” Seth folded his arms on the table and leaned closer. “I’ve worked in marketing before – not as a marketing manager or anything. And I know your job can be very stressful and time consuming. I applaud you.”

“You’ve worked in marketing?” How is it he works in the same field as I do? “In what aspect?”

“I’m a graphic designer,” Seth said, his voice tinged with pride. “I’m the guy who creates all the neat pictures and graphics for those concepts you think up in that pretty little head of yours.”

Julia chuckled. “We have a few of those at our company – very talented.” Graphic designer, huh? At least went to college. “So where are you working now?”

“My company just underwent a merger, so I was downsized, as they say.” Seth leaned back in his seat, resting his elbows on the arms of the dark brown wooden chair. “But I have two very promising interviews set up as soon as I get back from vacation.”

They sat silently for a moment, gazing at the view and stealing glances from each other. A waiter approached their table, carrying a large tray. He carefully set plates containing small works of art made completely of food in front of them. For a short while, the air was thick with mouthed-filled smiles, laughs, and noises of pure enjoyment as Seth and Julia relished the rich and savory dishes placed before them. Once finished, the table was cleared, and the couple continued to talk until darkness had fallen.

Julia took a sip of her wine and used her right foot to help wiggle her left foot out of her shoe. Looking at Seth over the top of her glass, she gently ran her toes up his thigh, and caressed his crotch, gently applying a small amount of pressure with the ball of her foot. Seth bit his bottom lip and gripped the arms of the chair tightly. He looked around to make sure no one was watching, and then locked eyes with Julia.

“You want to get out of here?” Seth asked. “Maybe take a walk on the beach?”

“Absolutely,” Julia said. Staring into Seth’s eyes, she felt a stirring in her chest, an excitement, a longing anticipation to taste Seth’s lips and have his body for dessert.

Chapter 11

Julia held her shoes in her hand, enjoying the feel of the cool sand on her bare feet. “I guess it’s not a tropical vacation until you’ve walked barefoot on the beach,” she said, laughing.

“I guess not,” Seth said. In his hands were his own shoes, with the socks shoved inside. He'd rolled up the bottom hem of his pants legs, but they had gotten wet anyway.

Kicking at the waves, Julia laughed and danced down the beach. She turned around and saw Seth staring at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “I can’t believe I met someone as beautiful as you.”

Julia looked down at the sand. The wind off the ocean blew her hair around her face. She had been told that the tresses of her hair snapping back and forth in the breeze resembled roaring flames. Stop being scared. He likes you. She looked up at Seth. The moonlight danced on his skin. Dammit. Why does he have to be so young? And gorgeous. She watched him slowly walked across the sand, his footprints washed away by the tide almost as quickly as he made them. The girls said have fun.

Seth stood a few inches from her, stroking her arms with his fingertips. “You’re cold,” he said.

“A bit,” Julia replied.

Seth took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. The girls did say to go for it. Seth pulled her long hair out from under the material of the jacket and a chill ran down her spine. I need to stop overthinking it and just have fun. Julia put her arms into the sleeves and unfastened the top three buttons on her dress. She watched Seth’s chest rise as in inhaled a deep breath, and let it out through pursed lips. The sex is hot – like dirty hot. Fuck it. Why not?

“Damn girl,” he said. “You’re going to get me in trouble.” Julia stood in front of Seth, facing him. She looked down the beach in one direction and then the other, not seeing anyone. Slowly lifting the sides of her dress, Julia put her thumbs under the material of her panties and pushed them down her thighs. Wiggling her ass back and forth slightly, her panties fell to the sand and Julia giggled. She stepped out of them, picked up the silky material, and shoved them in the pocket of Seth’s jacket.

“What are you doing?” The expression on Seth’s face was a mixture of shock and a smile. Julia reached down and pulled on Seth’s crisp white shirt, untucking it from his pants. She lightly touched her lips to his, gently biting his bottom lip as she pulled away.

“Trust me,” she whispered. Julia put her hand on his chest and gently coaxed him backwards towards an empty beach chair. Before they reached the chair, she slipped her fingers under his shirt, unfastening his belt, button, and zipper. Julia reached her hand inside his black boxers and wrapped her fingers around his firm penis.

Julia rippled her body in response to the touch of Seth’s hands on each side of her face. He pressed his lips to hers, and she drank in the moan of his longing into her kiss. She ran her nails of her free hands over his well-defined abs and felt his stomach muscles quiver. Julia stroked her hand down the length of his growing erection, using her thumb to rub the silky liquid leaking from the head. She lowered Seth’s pants a few inches down his hips, just enough to allow his fully hard penis to be exposed to the night air.

Julia pulled back from Seth and took a small step backwards. “Sit down,” Julia commanded. Seth immediately followed her direction and sat on the edge of the beach chair, his dick standing at full attention. She stepped toward him, lifting her dress just slightly. Julia put one leg on each side of Seth, straddling him on the beach chair. She lowered herself down, taking Seth’s erection into her swollen wet opening.

Julia held her breath, eager, wanting, taking in every sensation of Seth putting his hands on her waist, pulling her down onto him, and thrusting his hard dick deep inside. She put her hands on his shoulders, catching her breath with the feel of his thrust. Julia listened to the ocean behind them, allowing the crashing of the waves onto the beach to hide her frenzied moans. She bit at her bottom lip as Seth teased her cleavage with his tongue, and the cool night air off the ocean kissed the wetness left behind, causing goosebumps to race up and down her body.

Julia felt an aching heat growing, moving up her spine, spreading down her legs. She tried to hold back her explosion, not wanting the feeling to end, but it was a battle she wouldn’t win.

“I can’t hold back,” Seth said, grabbing a fist full of her hair.

“Then don’t,” she replied, her voice sounding deeper, more sultry than normal. “I want all of you.”

Julia felt the heat radiating from Seth’s body when he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her down onto him, groaning with each thrust. Julia let her head fall back, looking up to the sky. Opening her eyes, she let herself go, allowing the rush of her orgasm to wash over her the like waves crashing against the beach. She felt Seth swell and explode, his heat filling her.

Touching her lips to his made the perfect ending to such an intense orgasm. She wanted to tell him how good he made her feel. She wanted to tell him how much he made her feel like a woman again, how he made her feel things she could have never imaged. She wanted to tell him how much she loved the feel of his touch on her skin. But she didn’t. She just kissed him instead, and hoped that her lips could relay something to him that she couldn’t let words do.

Chapter 12

Julia let her shoes dangle from her fingers and brush against her knees. Seth stood behind her, pressed against her, and she felt the heat from his breath on the back of her neck. Her lips parted, her eyes closed, and she let out a long slow breath. I guess he wants more. She grinned, loving the thought that Seth wanted her – that a young, hot guy like Seth wanted her.

The elevator dinged and the doors glided open. Seth took her hand and walked around her, exiting the doors first. “Want to wash the sand off?” he asked as they walked off the elevator and into the hall. “You can take a shower in my room, maybe stay the night with me.”

Julia looked deep into Seth’s eyes. The feelings she knew so well – fear, doubt, pain – began to rise up in her chest. She did her best to hide them, but Seth must have sensed them anyway. He led her by the hand to the end of the hall to a window that overlooked the beach. The moon was hanging high in the sky. The moonlight reflecting of the soft waves of the ocean look like diamonds skipping along the surface. Julia gazed out over the beauty of the island and all the negative emotions she felt melted away. He wants me. Her mind opened, and so did her heart. And I want him.

She turned and faced Seth. “I don’t have anything to wear,” she said, chuckling.

“I’m sure I can find you something to wear for the night,” Seth said. “If you insist on wearing clothes.” He gave her a playful smirk. Julia and Seth walked silently hand in hand to his hotel room.

Seth turned to lock the door, and Julia began to undress, pulling her hair around to hang down over her breasts, reaching behind her to unfasten her zipper. “I don’t want to take a shower,” she said. Her voice was low and seductive. “At least not alone.” She pushed her dress off her shoulders and it feel to the floor at her feet, leaving her standing in front of Seth, completely nude and exposed.

Seth’s eyes widened and his mouth hung open slightly. He blinked a few times. Julia smiled, loving his gaze coasting up and down her body. This is going to be fun.

Julia walked into the bathroom without looking back and turned on the shower, dipping her fingers under the water to check the temperature. “Are you coming?” she said. “The water and I are both getting pretty hot.” Julia heard a bang and a clang and then Seth appeared in the bathroom door, completely naked, his penis partially erect. She didn’t bother to hide her smile and stepped inside the shower.

Bboth were silent, stealing seductive glances, rinsing off the remnants of their passion on the beach. Feeling impatient, Julia motioned for Seth to come closer.

Julia let out a long breath at the feel of Seth’s hands on her wet body. The heat from the water flowing over her skin did little to hide the heat growing between her legs. She leaned her head back allowing the streams of hot water to dampen her long hair. Seth cupped her breast in his hand, nibbling at her neck and ear. He took her nipple into his mouth and she watched the water run down her body and part around his lips. When her lips opened, he gently grabbed her chin and pressed his lips to hers. When their tongues touched, it sent bolts of heat shuddering through her, straight to her throbbing clit. His hand slid down her skin, and she opened her thighs to his touch. He hilted two fingers into her swollen hole, making her gasp and wrap her arms around him.

“Yes,” she whispered into his ear. His touch electrified her body and she wanted more. Julia arched her back, pushing her pelvis closer as Seth used his thumb to massage her clit and bring her to her first orgasm of the night.

Julia moaned into his mouth, reveling in the pleasures of his talented hands. “What do you say we move this to the bed,” Seth said. Julia grabbed a fist full of his hair pulling his lips deeper into hers. “I want you.”

Turning off the water, Julia turned to Seth and smiled. “So take me.”

Seth licked his lips and took Julia’s hands in his. He slowly escorted her to the bed. “I want to push the envelope a bit – show you my passion. Will you let me do that?”

“Yes,” she said.

“If I get too rough, or if anything I do is too much for you, just say enough and I’ll back off – you have my word. Okay?” Julia felt her stomach quiver. She was nervous, but excited. She nodded. “You have to say the words.”

“Yes,” she said. You can do whatever you want to me.

Julia’s senses and curiosity heightened, and Seth moved closer, pushing his tongue deep in her mouth. She sucked in a deep breath as he inserted his fingers into her opening. She allowed him to make her pussy his playground. Julia met his eyes, watching his expressions change with his movements and the way he massaged and manipulate her clit. Julia realized he was watching her face for cues, each reaction she offered determining his next move.

Seth moved to the end of the bed, and grabbed Julia by her ankles. He rolled her over onto her stomach and moved into place, giving Seth the freedom to coax her with his hands. He pulled on her hips, putting her into a position on all fours. As Seth situated himself behind her, she felt his fully erect penis pressing against her ass. Julia smiled. Take me. He pressed his knee between her legs, forcing them apart. Before Julia realized what he was doing, he was inside her, thrusting in and out. She cried out in a muddled reaction of shock and pleasure.

A smack echoed through the room as Seth’s hand swatted her ass. Julia gasped. She felt the sweet sting left behind, rewarding her with a euphoric rush. She wanted more. Turning over her shoulder, she smiled at Seth. “Is that all you got?” she said, teasingly. Her tone was deep and raspy, unrecognizable to her own ear.

Seth laughed. “No, baby,” he said. “We’re just getting started.” He smacked her ass again, and Julia opened her mouth, sucking in a quick breath of air. Concentrating on the heat from the contact of Seth’s hand on her skin, Julia came to a realization. What the fuck? This is so hot. She rocked her hips backwards into Seth’s thrusts. She felt the orgasmic fire building and dug her nails into the fabric beneath her. Why have I never tried this shit before?

Julia felt Seth’s hand in her hair, running his fingers through her long auburn tresses. Chills ran down her back and her nipples hardened, pulling at the surrounding skin. Seth wrapped her hair around his hand, holding onto it like the bridle of a horse. He pulled gently at first, and Julia obliged, her head bending backwards against her shoulders. Slowly, Seth pulled harder, increasing the force of his thrusts inside her with each yank of her hair. She moaned and whimpered, reeling in the new sensations and the feel of him inside her, filling her completely.

Her breathing quickened, she could barely catch her breath between his forceful thrusts. Julia arched her back, and pressed her breasts out and forward as the waves of orgasm took over. Seth scraped his fingers down her back, intensifying her climax. Julia lost all sense of control and cried out, moaning repeatedly with the pulses of pleasure.

As Julia quieted, Seth flipped her on her back, and kissed her hard and deep. His hand touched the outside of her thigh and ran up her side, ending at her chest. He placed his hand on her neck, lightly squeezing to show her he’s in control. Julia grabbed his wrist. “Trust me,” he said, breathless. “I won’t hurt you.” She let go.

Seth positioned himself between her legs, and without warning, shoved his engorged dick into her quivering opening. Julia gasped and braced her arms against the wall, hoping his fast deep pace would make her come again. He thrust harder and squeezed his fingers around her neck a little tighter.

Trying to take a breath, it took more effort for Julia to inhale. Her body contracted, and she felt the passion rising with each plunge of his dick inside her. Julia wrapped her legs around Seth’s back, and pulled him closer. Seth took her hint. He let go of her throat, pushed himself up on his arms, and rocked his hips fast and hard.

Julia held onto Seth’s arms, digging her nails into his large biceps. Her lust rose to the highest crescendo she had ever felt and she cried out. Within seconds, Seth lowered his body down onto hers, and thrust gave one last thrust. She felt the throbbing heat of Seth’s orgasm inside and heard the beautiful growl of his release in her ear. His body stilled and Julia could feel his heart beat against her chest.

Seth rolled off and they lay silently for a few minutes. Their only movement was the rising and falling of their chests, and the tiny back and forth caress of Seth’s thumb against her thigh. He stood up, walked out of the room. He returned carrying two bottles of water and a t-shirt. “Thank you,” she said, taking the items from his hands. She put on the shirt, and quickly drank half the water.

“You okay,” he asked. He returned to this position on the bed beside her.

“Yeah, why?” She replied between sips of water. She sat on the edge of the bed, scooting to a place near the center. Seth moved in close.

“I just didn’t know if it was too much or if I was too rough.” Seth looked down and played with the cap on his water bottle.

“No,” she said, lifting his head with her fingertips. “I’m fine.” She leaned forward and kissed him. “Are you okay?”

Seth rubbed the area on his bicep where Julia had dug in her nails. “Yeah,” he said, smiling. “I’m good. I liked it. It was hot.”

“Well,” Julia said, “At the risk of giving your already big ego an unneeded boost that was probably the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.”

Seth’s eyes widened and he smiled wide. “Really?” He asked. “Seriously? You’re not just saying that to make me feel good. You enjoyed it?”

“Yes,” she said. She kissed him again. “But now I’m tired.” She laughed.

Julia watched Seth drink his water and turn out the light. He lay on his back and Julia rested her head on his chest, rubbing his arm when he wrapped it around her. Julia sighed as Seth played with her hair for a few moments before she heard him softly snoring.

How is this man not married? Or at least have a girlfriend? Damn. She took a deep breath and feel asleep listening to his heartbeat.

Chapter 13

Julia nudged Seth with her arm. “Seth. Someone’s at the door.” He didn’t move. The knocking continued. “Hey.” Julia sat up, naked from the waist down, still wearing Seth’s t-shirt. She rocked Seth back and forth. “You have to wake up. Someone is knocking on the door.”

“What?” Seth opened his eyes and lifted his head off the pillow. He looked around the room and then fixed his eyes on Julia. “Wow,” he said. “That’s a great way to start the day.” Seth’s head snapped toward the door as the knocking returned, louder this time.

“I told you,” Julia laughed. “Someone’s knocking on the door.” She tucked her lower half under the sheet. Seth threw the covers off and hopped out of the bed. Grabbing his jeans off the chair in the corner, he pulled them on and moved toward the door.

Julia leaned back and stretched, twisting to the left and right. She heard the latch and the chain. “Hey, hi,” Seth said. “Yeah. I’ll meet you guys downstairs.” Julia pushed her elbow into the pillow as she propped herself up on her side. “Dude, I have company.”

“Yeah right.” Julia heard another man’s voice. “Let me in.” Julia looked down to make sure all her important parts were covered.

“Seriously, Paul. I have company.” Seth’s voice was louder, and he sound extremely aggravated. Suddenly, a young man that Julia had seen Seth with earlier walked into the room. He stopped abruptly and stared.

“Oh,” he said. “Hey there.”

Julia wiggled her fingers at him. Seth walked into the room and sat on the bed next to Julia. “Paul, this is Julia. Julia, Paul. I believe you met the other night. He was just leaving. So I’ll see you later, Paul.”

“Nice to see you again, Julia,” Paul said. “I’m sorry to barge in, but I honestly thought that Seth was pulling my leg. He’s not exactly the type that picks up a hot – a smoking hot – woman and brings her back to his room.” Paul scanned his eyes up and down Julia’s body.

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” she joked.

“Okay,” Seth interjected. “Now you know, so leave.” He stood and pushed his friend on the shoulder toward the door.

“Two o’clock, Seth. Don’t be late.” Paul looked over his shoulder.

“I won’t.” Seth replied, still pushing Paul.

“What’s at two o’clock?” Julia asked.

“Seth is a groomsman at the wedding,” Paul said. He did a spin move and turned back to face Julia. “I think he’s going for a record. What’s this make – your fifth?”

“Sixth.” Seth sighed as he corrected Paul.

“The perpetual groomsman, huh, Seth?”

“Yeah.” Seth began pushing his friend again. “Funny. Good-bye. See you later. Leave now.”

Julia listened to Seth whispering with his friend for moment before tossing the sheet back and placing her feet on the floor. I should probably meet up with the girls. Don’t want them thinking I have totally abandoned them. She grabbed her clothes off the floor and got dressed, tossing Seth’s t-shirt on the end of the bed.

“You leaving?” Seth said coming back into the room.

“Yeah,” Julia said, grabbing her shoes and purse off the floor. She touched the screen on her phone but nothing happened. “Dead. Dammit. Now I really have to go before my friends call the FBI or something.”

Seth wrapped his arms around Julia and hugged her. God he smells good. How can he smell this good getting out of bed?

“Hey,” Seth said. He took a step back. “I have an idea. Why don’t you come to the wedding with me?”

“Oh, um,” Julia walked around Seth and moved toward the door. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, I’m not too into the whole bonds of marriage thing right now. I’m pretty cynical when it comes to the ‘til death do you part bullshit.”

Julia walked into the hall and Seth stood in the open doorway. “Well, can I see you tonight?” he said. “After? I still have your extra room key.”

Julia leaned in to Seth and put her lips to his ear. “Use it,” she whispered. She kissed him softly on the lips and then turned to walk away. “Even if I’m asleep,” she said walking down the hall toward the elevator. “Use the key.” Julia spun around to look back at Seth who was now leaning out into the hallway. “I would love to wake up to the feel of your touch on my skin.” Julia turned the corner and jogged toward the elevator.

Pushing the elevator call button, Julia’s feet were still moving. Wendy is probably pissed! She jumped onto the elevator and pushed the button for her floor. They’re going to kill me.

Chapter 14

Back in her hotel room, Julia called Grace.

“Wendy has been spending time with Kevin,” Grace said. Julia heard music in the background and felt a pang of guilt in her heart. “Mia, Deb, and I have been doing all kinds of stuff – hiking, wine tasting, and we even went snorkeling.”

“So you guys aren’t mad?” Julia kicked off her shoes and yanked her sequin dress over her head.

“Are you kidding me?” Grace said. Her voice was loud and cheerful. “We’re happy for you. It’s exactly what you needed. And like Deb said, as long as you’re there for the last day at the beach before we go home, the rest of it will work itself out.”

“I can’t thank you enough,” Julia said. “I wanted to stay longer, but I’m just not into crowds right now.”

“I get it,” Grace said. “Totally get it. I’m just glad you came dancing with us for a while. Now get some sleep, go see your hottie, or whatever. Love you. Now I have to go. This is a great song!”

“Love you guys.” Julia laughed and hung up the phone. She climbed under the covers and in only a few minutes, she was fast asleep.

Julia felt the waves hit the back of her legs. The coolness of the water against her skin was refreshing. She looked out at the horizon, watching the sun slide down behind the sea, throwing brilliant colors of light against the sky like an artist’s canvas. The breeze off the ocean’s surface spritzed water against her face, stinging her skin, invigorating her senses.

“Julia ...” She heard her name on a gust of wind, whispered into her ear like a lover. “Julia ...”

Julia opened her eyes and blinked several times, attempting to focus.

“Hey there, sleepy head,” Seth said. His voice was soft, like the voice on the wind in her dream. It was him. Julia looked into his eyes, happy to see him. She touched his face and smiled. That was his voice.

“Hi,” she said, still groggy from sleep. “I thought you would still be at the wedding.”

“I was,” he said. He pushed himself off the bed and moved to the table. “I did my duty as a groomsman, made my toast, danced my dance, and then talked to my buddy. I think I may have talked about you a lot because he told me to leave. I guess he could tell I didn’t want to be there.” Seth walked back to the bed, his hands full. “I brought you something, from the wedding.”

Seth held out his arms. In his hands were a bottle of champagne, two plastic hotel glasses, and a big piece of white wedding cake with two forks. Seth placed the plate with the cake on the bed, popped the cork on the champagne, and poured them both a glass. Seth picked up a fork, knelt on the floor and leaned on the side of the bed. “This is really good,” he said, putting a bite of the cake in his mouth. “Try it.”

Julia picked up a fork and took a bite. She smiled and nodded her head. “It is good,” she said. She took a second bite. “Seth, may I ask you a personal question? You can say no if you want.”

“Sure, go ahead.” Seth took a bite of cake and washed it down with a sip from the plastic blue cup.

“Why haven’t you ever been married?” Julia took another bite of cake and chewed. “You’ve been a groomsman in what, five weddings?”

“Six,” he corrected her. “I don’t know.” Seth used his fork and played with the crumbs on the side of the plate. “I just never found the right woman I guess. I’ve never met anyone who made me think, that’s the person I want to stand with in front of all my friends and shove wedding cake in her face.”

Julia covered her mouth to keep from spitting out her cake, laughing so hard she fell backward on the bed laughing. Seth began to laugh, too.

As their laughter subsided, Julia leaned up to grab her cup and took a sip of her champagne. Seth moved the plate to the side and grabbed her ankles, pulling her to the edge of the bed, directly in front of him.

Seth reached for his fork, cut off a piece of the cake and using his fingers, fed it to Julia. He sucked the frosting from his fingers and wrapped his arms around her. Pulling her close, he kissed her hard.

Oh god. Is he falling for me? I can’t let him fall for me. I’m no good for him. I’m too old for him. Am I falling for him? No, I can’t be. We’re just having fun. I’m over thinking this. I always over think it.

Seth pulled back from their kiss and stood up. Julia smiled at him. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She adored the way he stiffened when she smiled at him, forcing himself to hold back his lust, knowing once they touch, he will no longer be able to control his want, his desire, and his need for her. Knowing what was coming turned the fire inside her into molten lava.

Grabbing the plate from the bed, Seth moved everything back to the table. Julia watched his movements, his muscles flexing and contracting, and her longing for him grew. He moved back toward the bed and when he reached for the blue cup on the bedside table, Julia grabbed his hand.

“Leave it,” she said. She pulled him closer, until he stood directly in front of her. Slowly, she reached up and pulled on his belt, undoing the buckle and sliding it from the loops of his pants. She tossed the belt on the floor and it clanged. She could feel his excitement growing as she unbuttoned his black tuxedo pants, and slowly moved the zipper down. Julia slid her thumbs inside the waistband and pulled his pants down over his hips, leaning forward and brushing her lips against the bulge in his black boxer brief underwear. Seth gasped deeply, and she smiled.

Running her blood red nails up the hardness hiding under the material, Julia again tucked her thumbs in his waistband, this time pulling them outward, freeing his erection for her to enjoy completely.

Julia looked up at Seth and met his gaze. She stroked his penis with her fingertips and used her tongue to trace the length of the shaft causing Seth to moan in appreciation. She watched his face for cues, finally taking him into her mouth. Seth stroked the back of her head with his hand and then fisted her hair. She watched as he leaned his head back, and heard him suck at the air. Julia used her tongue to massage his growing dick. Seth moaned with delight and it sent chills all over her body. Reaching down, Seth caressed her neck and moved the hair out of her face.

“Oh, Julia,” Seth said. Julia closed her eyes at the sound of her name on his tongue. She slid her lips up and down on the shaft, moving further down each time. Seth’s moans grew deeper and louder. The more he groaned, the more it fueled her, taking pleasure in knowing she was the origin of his bliss.

“Take it,” he said. His words were low and breathy. “Take it all, please.”

Sucking harder, Julia felt a rage of heat growing between her legs, her clit throbbing, her pussy hungry with a need to feel him inside her. She slid forward on the bed, and placed her hands on Seth’s muscular thighs, gripping them between her fingers. Relax. Her body was tense, full of excitement and want for his flesh. Relax and make him feel good. Julia let all the air out of her lungs, taking the full length of Seth’s long, thick penis in her mouth, allowing it to slide down the back of her throat. Pulling back just slightly, she took him faster and deeper. Seth’s hand moved to the back of her head and pushed down slightly.

“Oh, yes,” he hissed. “That’s it.” She pulled back and did it again, causing him to let out a long throaty growl. Julia pulled back and flicked her tongue against the head of his dick. Tilting her head back, she looked up to see him watching her. She takes his impressive penis deep in her throat one last time, feeling his hips thrust slightly in response.

“Stop,” he said, with a tone of urgency. He put one hand on each side of her head, stopping her movement. “You’re going to make me come in your mouth.” Julia slowly pulled her lips back, giving one last suck on the overly sensitive head of his penis. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I don’t want to come that way. I want to be inside you.” After applying a condom, Seth reached down, took Julia’s hands, and helped her up from the bed. “Come here.” His voice floated on his breath, a seductive whisper. Lightly taking her in his grip, Seth walked backwards. “Do you trust me?” he asked. The moonlight cascading through the sliding glass of the doors of the balcony illuminated the room just enough for her to see his sculpted body, and fully erect penis. Pulling her close, he pressed against her, their naked flesh bound together. She felt his warm breath on her neck as he put his lips next to her ear. “Trust me,” he whispered.

Julia raised her arms as Seth pulled her t-shirt over her head and tossed it away. “I do,” she said. “I trust you.” The words ooze from her lips, coming out raw, wanting, and needy. Gripping the sides of her underwear, he dug his fingers into her hips and pulled them off. Julia closed her eyes and begged for more, his touch on her skin was almost enough to make her lose control. Seth cupped her breasts and placed a deep passionate kiss on the nap of her neck.

Chills ran down her spine as Seth cupped her ass in his robust hands and lifted her from the floor. In one swift movement, he turned around, and drove her back against the wall, her flesh smacking the cool smooth surface. Slowly, Seth pushed his massive erection into her swollen, wet slit. Julia could no longer hold back her cries. She held onto him tightly, the feel of his body calling to hers to let go of any further inhibitions.

Julia opened her mouth with a soft moan, and Seth didn’t hesitate to move his tongue inside. She could taste the sweetness of wedding cake and champagne, adding to the passion of their kiss.

Seth moved his arms under her knees, draping her legs over the crook of his elbows, spreading her swollen opening. Julia gasped at the depth of his penetration, digging her nails into his shoulders.

“You’ve got me so hot,” Seth said. “I’m not going to last long.”

“Neither am –”

Before Julia was able to finish her sentence the power of her orgasm took over, forcing all the muscles of her body to contract, pushing her back against the wall, her fervent cries fueling his pace. She felt the moisture of her gratification running down the crack of her ass.

Seth let out a low growl, put his palms on the wall, and thrust himself deep inside her, taking her breath away. Seth stood still and buried his face in her chest, his back arching with his heavy breathing. Damn. Julia felt her legs begin to shake. Holy fuck. I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.

Seth gently lowered her to the floor and kissed her lips. Julia walked to the bathroom, turning back once to see Seth watching her walk away.

I still got it.

Chapter 15

Julia smiled as the sweetness of the strawberries coated her tongue. “You didn’t have to do all this.” She poked a piece of mango with her fork. Glancing out the window, she saw the first colors over the horizon of the rising sun. The sky lit up with hues of orange and yellow, making the world appear as if it was on fire.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” Seth said. His voice brought her back to moment at hand. “The sunrise. It’s beautiful. I’ve seen it every morning I’ve been here.”

“Yes,” she said, smiling. “It is. You’re lucky to get such a great room.”

“It’s almost as beautiful as our sunset.” Seth reached across the table and held Julia’s hand. They stared out the window and watched the sunrise create an artistic masterpiece on the sky and sand.

“Wish I didn’t have to leave tomorrow morning.” Seth picked up his coffee and took a sip.

Julia felt her heart sink into her chest. She pulled her hand away and picked up her fork. Stabbing another piece of melon, she shoved it in her mouth, avoiding eye contact. “We could always exchange numbers, or maybe connect on Facebook or something.”

“I don’t know, Seth,” Julia said, chewing. Don’t fall for him. Don’t do it. It’s just a fling. It was just sex – fucking hot sex, but just sex. Let him leave and let it go. “I thought we agreed this was just going to be us having some fun – nothing more.”

“Is that what you want?” The look on Seth’s face caused Julia to pause.

“I don’t know,” she wiped her mouth and sat back in her chair. “I don’t think I’m ready for anything else. I’m sorry.” Julia watched Seth’s expression change. He looked down at the napkin in his lap. His eyes seemed to lose their sparkle. She felt herself wanting to console him, to take him in her arms, to bring back his smile. It scared her. She needed to get away before she gave in to him. “Maybe I should go.” Julia stood up from the table and grabbed her things.

She began to move toward the door but stopped. She turned around, placed her things on the bed, and walked back to table, kneeling in front of Seth. She reached up, and grabbing him behind the neck, pulled him down to meet her lips. Julia fisted his hair, and plunged her tongue into his mouth. Seth wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, putting his own passion into their kiss.

Pulling back from their kiss, Julia looked into Seth’s eyes and cupped his face in her hands. “You’re a wonderful man,” she said. “I’m so happy that I met you, that I had this time with you. You have no idea what you did for me. And someday you will find someone perfect for you. You’ll find a woman that you want smash wedding cake with. I promise.” Julia kissed Seth’s lips quickly and stood from the floor.

Without looking back, Julia grabbed her things from the bed and walked out of Seth’s hotel room for the last time.

Julia scrunched her hair with the soft white towel. Thoughts revolved through her mind, thoughts that kept her body from settling completely and continued to fan the fire of her lust. She second-guessed her decision not to stay in contact with Seth several times. Each time she managed to convince herself she did the right thing. Idiot! Why do you always have to do the right thing?

Thoughts of Seth and internal argument distracted her enough to answer her cell phone without checking the caller ID.

“Hello,” she answered. Her voice was cheerful and light for the first time in years.

“Jules?” Brian’s voice came through, sending chills down Julia’s spine. “Is that you?” Julia dropped the towel to her side, listening to the ghost of her past life chase away the joy she had finally found in her tropical getaway.

“Brian ...” words escaped her. She knew what she wanted to say, but she vowed never to let him see that side of her – to know how much he hurt her. You fucking bastard. You cheating, lying, worthless fucking bastard. Why the fuck are you calling me? It’s not enough that you ruined my life and humiliated me, now you want to ruin the best time I’ve ever had by calling me – now? “What do you want, Brian?”

“I just wanted – needed – to talk to you,” Brian said. “Do you have a few minutes?”

“Not really,” Julia said. She sat on the edge of the bed, rested her elbow on her knee, and rubbed her temples. Just leave me alone Brian. “I’m already late and I need to –”

“Jules, just give me a few minutes.”

“If you stop calling me Jules, I’ll give you one minute.”

Julia stood and began pacing the length of the room several times before retaking her seat on the edge of the bed. Are you fucking kidding me? Ass! “Okay, fine. What do you want to talk to me about?”

“I wanted you to hear it from me first –”

Julia heard Brian let out a deep breath. “Beth and I are having a baby.” Julia scoffed, covered her mouth with her hand, hoping to hold back the laugh that rumbled in her chest.

“Julia?” Brian’s voice changed, holding a note of concern.

Now you care? Now you give a shit about my feelings? You stupid fuck! She no longer restrained the laugh inside her. She opened her mouth allowed it flow through the phone, hoping Brian would drown in her amusement. “I already know, dumbass,” she said. “Thanks to your lovely wife.” Saying the word ‘wife’ to Brian felt like razorblades on her tongue. “She tagged all my friends in her little baby bump picture on Facebook.”

“She did what?” Brian said. Julia truly enjoyed the shock value her words apparently held. “Wow, Julia, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Well, that’s obvious.” Julia fell backwards onto the bed, her hair splaying out behind her head like the feathers of a large bird. “Is that all you wanted?”

“Um, yeah,” Brian’s voice stalled. “I guess so.” There was a pause as neither of them spoke. “So you’re doing okay? You’re happy?”

Julia looked up at the ceiling and watched the slow rotation of the blades on the wicker fan. Am I happy? Am I? I never thought about it ... I think I am. Yeah, I am.

“Jules – I mean, Julia,” Brian quickly corrected himself. “I just want you to be happy. I’m sorry that I hurt you. You deserved better.”

“Yes, I did, Brian. I have to go.” Feeling the onset of tears, Julia covered her eyes with her free hand. “Take care and congratulations.” She didn’t wait for Brian’s response before hanging up the phone and placing it on the pillow beside her.

Julia began to cry. She lay on the bed, covered her face with her hands, and cried. Her abdomen quivered with sobs. She cried for the years she gave Brian, and the years she would have given him. She cried for the child they never had. Julia cried because deep in her soul, past the embarrassment, the betrayal, and the hurt, she felt something – something beautiful, and it was freeing.

Letting out a deep cleansing sigh, Julia closed her eyes and her mind filled with images of Seth. She saw his eyes, his lips, his body. She remembered the feel of his touch on her skin, his scent. And the tears dried. They were just memories, but still they calmed her, giving her a sense of hope and love. Julia sat up on the bed and in an instant a realization came upon her. She realized she knew what she wanted, who she wanted, and there was no time to waste.

Chapter 16

Standing in front of Seth’s room, Julia tried to catch her breath. Please be awake. Please be awake. Please be here. She knocked again and took a deep breath.

Seth opened the door wearing nothing but a pair of grey shorts. Julia’s eyes scanned his body. Damn. Yeah. I’m doing this.

“Julia!” A smile came over Seth’s face and Julia could hear the excitement in his voice. “Come in, please. Come in.”

She walked in the room, turned around and waited for Seth to close the door. The latch clicked, Seth moved the lock into place. Julia pushed her body against his, wrapping her arms around his waist, rubbing her hands over his firm, toned back. Seth wrapped his arms around her and ran his fingers through her hair.

“Hey, Julia” Seth said, his voice was deep, low, and her name on his lips thundered through her body. He used his knuckle and lifted Julia’s chin, raising her eyes to meet his gaze. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Julia said, gazing into his beautiful eyes. “I am now. I’m with you.” Her words came out soft, and sound more needy and wanting than she intended. She wanted to beg him to take her, to make her body his own. I want you, Seth. Please. Julia didn’t speak, and held Seth’s gaze, feeling her breath leave her body.

Seth grabbed Julia by the back of her neck and pulled her towards him. He pressed his lips against hers and she allowed herself to settle into his embrace. Bending over slightly, he gripped the back of her legs and lifted her. She felt moisture flood the crotch of her silky panties and a fire building in her core. Julia hopped into his arms, wrapping her legs around him and holding onto his neck, never losing their kiss. He walked to the bed and gently laid her down. Seth undid her pants and pulled them off her legs and Julia yanked off her top and bra, tossing it across the room.

Inserting two fingers, Seth caressed Julia from the inside, making sure she was wet and ready for him. She spread her legs, welcoming his touch, pushing against him, demanding more. He felt the flood of her want and licked his lips, his own desire building fast.

Seth quickly reached for his jeans, still draped across the chair, yanking them to the bed. He removed his wallet, threw the jeans to the floor, and scrambled for the golden foil packet. Ripping it open with his teeth, Seth knelt on the bed and skillfully rolled the latex sheath onto his impressive erection with one hand. He brushed the wallet and package remnants to the floor with his hand and then slowly lowered his body onto hers. Julia let out a deep breath as his weight pushed the air from her lungs. She stretched her arms out to the sides and dug her fingers into the soft fabric around her.

Seth entered her slowly, sliding into her wet heat. She hoped he would drowned in liquid passion. Julia bit her bottom lip and let out a long, soft whimper. She let Seth set the pace and rhythm. Her mind filled with the sensations of his body against her, his balls slapping against her ass, the grinding of his skin against her overly sensitive clit. Seth whispered her name into the nap of her neck and she felt the moist heat of his breath causing her already erect nipples to harden even more.

She felt the sweet swell of orgasm boiling in her loins, gathering at the base of her spine and traveling with the pumping of her blood to all parts of her body. Seth gripped her ass tightly and her body responded, breaking to his touch. Julia’s muscles contracted and her pussy spasm around his enormous erection as he continued to thrust in her, deep and fast. She arched her back and pushed her body toward him, the proof of her lust streamed out from between her legs. Julia let out a scream, but Seth covered her mouth with his and swallowed it whole in a deep, passionate kiss.

“I can’t hold back,” Seth said. His voice was deep and gravelly with a hunger and desire. He pushed himself up on his arms, hovering over her, slowing his pace slightly.

Julia reached up with both hands, pushed his damp hair from his face, and wrapped her legs around his back. “Don’t,” she said through her heaving breaths. “Don’t hold back.” Julia looked deep into Seth’s eyes. “Take me. Take me now.”

Seth obliged her. He thrust deep and fast, giving her the full length of his penis with each plunge inside. Julia put her head back and called out as a second orgasm grew quickly, a feeling so intense it bordered pain. Digging her heels into the back of Seth’s thighs, she moaned again and again, the pleasure sweeping over her body like the waves of the ocean that had once been their backdrop.

Moments later, Seth moaned out, driving a final before his body stiffened and stilled, slowly lowering until his damp skin made contact with hers. Julia listened to his quickened breath in her ear, feeling his chest press into her body. She could feel his heartbeat, rapid and strong, against her breast. Seth rested his head on her chest, and she ran her hands through his hair.

Seth lifted his head and kissed Julia, slow and tender, caressing her cheek with his hand before rolling off and lying beside her on the bed. Turning to his side, he propped himself up on his elbow and stared at Julia.

She slowly turned to meet his gaze. “What?” she said.

“That was unexpected,” he said. “Great, but unexpected.”

“I know,” she said. She turned to her side, facing him, caressing his arm. “I just wanted to be with you one last time before you left.” Dammit. I’m not a good liar. But I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell him I like him. Cause I don’t like him. I’m just attracted to him. I’m confusing lust for love. This is just a fling.

Julia looked into Seth’s eyes, and what she saw nearly devastated her. In the depths of his beautiful blue eyes, she saw a mixture of tenderness and fear, swirling in a pool or admiration and wonder. She saw the emotions she was feeling deep inside her heart, her soul. Was he reflecting her feelings back at her, or was he feeling the same way?

Seth continued to stare at Julia. She wanted to break away, but couldn’t. Can he see it in my eyes? Am I falling for him? Or am I just clinging to the first guy who made me feel good?

“You’re beautiful, Julia,” Seth said. He leaned in and gave her another sweet kiss. Her name on his tongue pulled at her heart. She swallowed hard, hoping to keep the emotional dam in place long enough to make a clean exit.

“You’re sweet,” she replied, kissing him lightly on the lips. He gets laid, and I get what I need from him – that’s all it is. “And thank you.”

“For what?” Seth runs his hand down her curvy hip.

“You’ve done more for me during this vacation than I could ever explain to you.” She touched his face, gave him a smile, and pushed herself up from the bed. “Let’s just say that you helped me put the last pieces of a very hard puzzle back together.” Julia grabbed her clothes off the floor and moved toward the bathroom.

“Glad I could help,” Seth said. “And I love puzzles.”

Of course you do.

Chapter 17

“I really feel bad that we didn’t spend more time together,” Julia said. She rubbed sunscreen on her arm as she reclined on a beach lounge chair, the hot sun beating down on her barely sun-kissed, ivory skin. “It was supposed to be a girlfriends’ getaway.”

“Yeah,” Wendy added. “Sorry I skipped out on you guys the last couple days.”

“Okay,” Grace said. “Listen up.” She sat at the end of the row of chairs and leaned forward so she could see everyone. “Stop apologizing. We told you to go and have fun and we meant it. The only way I’m going to be pissed about it is if you tell me the sex was bad.”

Wendy and Julia looked at each other. A smile came across both their faces. “Not me,” Wendy said.

“Nope,” Julia said, chuckling.

“Okay then,” Grace said. She reclined back on her chair, moving her shoulders and legs to get in a comfortable position. “Then shut the hell up, tell me about the sex so I can fantasize about it later and we’ll call it even.” A roar of laughter took over the small group of women.

Wendy shared the detail about her two-night sex marathon with Seth’s friend, causing lots of sighs and moans of jealousy from the others. “It was hot, dirty,” she said. “And I’m not ashamed to admit it girls,” Wendy took a sip of her tall pink drink with little green umbrella. “I used him like a battery-operated toy.” More laughter from the girls, and shy smiles and blushing from the two waiters holding their next round of drinks.

“So what about you, Julia,” Mia asked. “How was prince chaming?”

Julia put her head back and closed her eyes behind her dark sunglasses. She touched her stomach, the butterflies fluttering at the thought of Seth. “He was good,” she said, a small reverberation in her voice. “He was so good. He was sweet, and gentle, but then rough and passionate –”

“Which did you like better?” Deb asked. She turned to face Julia. “What was your favorite?” She leaned in closer and sipped on her oversized frozen concoction.

“Would you believe that we had sex standing up?” Julia took a long drink of a drink in a tall glass with a pineapple attached at the rim.

“What? He did the wall thing?” Deb said, her eyes wide.

“Yep.” Julia bit her bottom lip thinking about it. “He picked me up, put me against the wall, and fucked me until my legs were shaking.”

The girls looked at each other, back and forth between them, and then let out a scream in unison. Julia covered her face and hung her head, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Oh, honey,” Wendy said, touching Julia’s arm. “That’s exactly what we hoped would happen.”

“What?” She looked at Wendy with a confused expression. “That we’d have sex standing up?”

“No,” Mia said. “That he’d fuck your brains out –”

“And you’d have a great time,” Grace added. “So, did you?”

Julia took a deep breath and let it out quickly. She looked out at the ocean, and watched the waves coming into shore, so peaceful, beautiful, and calming. “Yes,” she said. “Best time of my life.”

Chapter 18

“Julia, you look great.”

“The islands sure do agree with you.”

“Wow, you’re glowing.”

Returning to the office, Julia was flattered by all the compliments she received. Unlike Wendy, who enjoyed and relished the attention, Julia simply said thank you and continued on her way.

She sat in her office staring at the files that had accumulated on her desk during her absence. Some things never change. She pulled one file off the stack and opened it, staring at the pages inside. Her mind wasn’t on her work, but was still in St. Lucia, in Seth’s arm, tasting his lips.

Closing her eyes, Julia could hear the waves crashing onto the beach, and she could almost feel Seth’s hands on her skin. Her fingertips brushed her bottom lip as she remembered his kiss, his taste, his smell.

Julia heard someone talking, but it’s not enough to stir her from her thoughts, her sensual memories of Seth.

“Ms. Turner?” Kelly’s voice was louder the second time, jostling Julia to the present. “Ms. Turner, are you all right?”

“Kelly!” Julia sat up straight in her office chair and shuffled the pages from the file. “Yes, I’m fine,” she said. “Just haven’t had my coffee yet is all.” Wow, I’m getting way too comfortable with this bullshitting thing. “What can I do for you?”

Julia fought to pay attention while Kelly dictated her messages, informing her of her schedule for the day, and let her know the latest office gossip.

“And have you seen the new guy that’s taking Craig’s position in the Design department?” Kelly’s eyes lit up and she smiled so big she showed all her teeth.

“No, I don’t think so,” Julia pushed one files off to the side and grabbed another. “Why?”

“He’s so hot – like movie star hot.” Kelly put her hand on her chest and closed her eyes, letting out a big sigh.

“Well let’s keep it in our pants.” Julia chuckled. “We don’t want to get a sexual harassment suit, do we?”

Kelly scoffed. “Anyway,” Kelly looked down at the notebook cradled in her arm. “Mr. Dayson said he would be bringing him by to meet you. He says the two of you will probably be working together a lot. Oh, here they come.”

Julia looked up from her desk and glanced out the window to get a look at the new guy. Kelly seemed so impressed with him. She caught sight of Mr. Dayson walking down the hallway, and she leapt from her chair, hitting the stack of files, pushing them into other items on her desk and knocking them to the floor. It can’t be. Can it really be him? Please don’t let this be a hallucination. Julia reached out in an attempt to catch the items, but only managed to knock over more, making the situation worse.

Kelly held up her hands. “Stop, stop, stop,” she said. “Before you tear the whole office down. I’ve got it.” Julia turned around just as Mr. Dayson entered her office, with the new guy walking behind him.

“And I’d like to introduce you to one of our top junior executives, Julia Turner,” Mr. Dayson said. His voice bolstering and bold. “As she handles most of our top clients, you’ll be spending a lot of time with this little lady. Julia, I’d like you to meet Seth Knight.”

Julia tried to hide her shock and excitement, holding out her hand to greet the man who had haunted her thoughts just moments earlier. “Hello, Mr. Knight,” she said. She did her best to keep her tone professional and business-like. “It’s nice to meet you. Welcome to Dayson Enterprises.”

Seth reached out and took Julia’s hand, grabbing it firmly. “Thank you,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Hope you had a good vacation, Julia,” Mr. Dayson said. “But it’s time to get back to work. We’ve missed you around here.” Mr. Dayson put his hand on Seth’s shoulder and urged him toward the office doorway. “Okay, Mr. Knight, let’s get you over to meet Tom. You’ll love Tom.”

Julia’s mind was spinning. What the fuck? She watched Seth walk with Mr. Dayson, trying to figure out how the man she gave herself to, thinking she would never see him again, was just standing in her office. She turned to go back to her desk, but then immediately spun around and looked out the office of her window once again. What the fuck?

“See?” Kelly said. Her tone dripping of confidence. “I told you. He’s hot.”

Julia’s took a long deep breath and watched Seth walk back toward her office. He smiled the charming, sweet smile she remembered, and continued until he stood right in front of her.

“I’m sorry to barge back in your office, Ms. Turner,” he said. Julia slowly let out the breath she realized she had been holding in. “I just wanted to tell you that I’ve heard great things about you, and I’m really looking forward to our working together. I think we’re going to be a great team.” Seth held out his hand to Julia again, and she reached out in kind. When she pulled back, Julia realized she was grasping the extra room key she’d given Seth at the hotel. She fought hard to hold back the giddy feeling, putting her hands against her sides.

“Thank you,” Julia said. “I look forward to it, as well.”

Seth walked out of Julia’s office and Wendy passed him, walking in. “Hey Julia, wasn’t that –”

“Um, hey, Kelly,” Julia interrupted Wendy, holding up her hand and giving her a glaring look. “Could you go ahead and get on the Sheller’s report? I’ll need it before lunch.” Kelly gave Julia a confusing look. “I’m just trying to get a little ahead since I’m just getting back from vacation.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” Kelly said. “I can get it done by then.”

“I’ll run down to legal and have them print out the forms we need signed. Wendy do you want to go down with me?” Julia put her hand on Kelly’s shoulder and coaxed her toward the door. “I really appreciate all your hard work.”

Kelly smiled, put her shoulders back, and strutted to her desk. Julia grabbed Wendy’s arm and they headed toward the elevators.

Wendy leaned over to her friend. “Isn’t that your prince charming?” she said, whispering into Julia’s ear.

“Yes,” Julia said. Her heart was racing and her mind filled with the image of their last moments together – the look on his face, what she saw in his eyes, the feelings she had.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Wendy looked over her shoulder one way then the other to make sure no one was listening. “Did you tell him where you worked?”

Julia chuckled. “No,” she said. “But apparently, he took Craig’s position in Graphics department. He did tell me he had two interviews.”

“Mr. Destiny seems as apt a name now as Prince Charming.” Wendy covered her mouth with her hand. Julia’s mouth puckered, trying not to laugh.

“Hello ladies,” Seth said, standing next to Julia. “Mind if I ride down with you. I guess I have to go down to HR.” He leaned against Julia, his fingers brushing against hers. Taking in his scent, she licked her lips and took a deep breath. Seth tilted forward to look around Julia. “Hello, Wendy. How are you?”

“Hi,” Wendy said. “I’m good.” She looked at Julia and smirked. “But I just remembered something I have to do, somewhere else, that’s not here. So I’ll see you around, Seth.”

The doors to the elevator opened and Seth motioned to Julia to go first. She nodded and boarded. Seth followed, pushing every button on the panel – this time there were only seven. As soon as the door closed, Julia pushed him against the wall and kissed him hard. Seth cupped her breast with one hand and grabbed her ass with the other.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, between their lips pressing together. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. When I came in for my interview, I saw your name on the door, I couldn’t believe it.”

“Wait,” Julia put her hands on his chest and pushed him back. “You knew I’d be here? That I worked here?”

“Of course,” he said. “That’s why I brought you the room key.” He put his hand on her back and pulled her close, kissing the exposed skin on her chest. “And it was a perk that helped me make the decision to take the job.” The doors to the elevator opened. Julia quickly moved back and turned away, wiping her mouth. “No one’s there,” Seth said. He pushed the close door button repeatedly. The doors closed and he pushed her against the wall, pushing his pelvis against her hip. “I really did miss you,” he said.

“Shut up and kiss me,” she ordered him. Julia took Seth’s tongue into her mouth, pulling his head close, fisting the back of his hair. Their embrace continued until the bell of the elevator doors opening broke them apart again.

“So,” Seth said, standing in a corner of the elevator. “Is it safe to say that our summer fling isn’t over?”

“No,” Julia responded. She watched the doors of the elevator close, slowly moving toward Seth. As the doors sealed, she pushed her body against his. “Our summer fling is definitely over.” Seth looked confused. Julia kissed his lips lightly. “If we’re going to do this,” she motioned back and forth between the two of them, kissing him again. “This is new. This is different. This isn’t a fling,” Julia kissed him, deeply this time. “We have a base to build on because of our time together this summer, but I don’t want this to be a continuation of that. I want this to have the potential to be something more. Are you okay with that?”

The door opened, she stepped back from Seth, standing against the far wall. No one got on. The door closed again. Seth rushed to Julia, putting one hand on her neck and pressing her against the wall. With his other hand, he slowly ran his fingertips up her thigh, kissing her lips. “Just tell me you want me and I’m yours.”

Julia looked into his eyes, she thought about their time together, the things they had done, the experiences they had shared. She thought about the way she felt when she was with him, how she again felt like a beautiful, desired woman. Suddenly, she began to see herself with Seth in the city. Images flashed through her head – dinner at her favorite restaurant, walking in the park, making love on her back deck in the rain.

Julia ran her hands over Seth’s chest. Do I want to do this? Do I really want to do this? She looked into his eyes and the words simply fell from her lips. “I want you, Seth,” she said. “I want you.”

About the Author

Carma Haley Shoemaker is a nurse, wife, and mother of three. Living in North Central Ohio, she fills her days with writing mixed-genre romances, Supernatural reruns, and playing her music loud enough to annoy the neighbors. While she does put her characters through many hardships, heartbreaks, and angst-filled moments, Carma believes in fast-love, true romance, and HEA endings.

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Homecoming

Elana Brooks

Ryan Hertz never dreamed he would smuggle someone into the United States. But when his coworker asks him for help, he can't refuse. She wants him to accompany her on an all-expenses paid Caribbean cruise. There's only one catch—at their first port, she plans to switch places with her sister, and she needs Ryan to make their deception work.

Juanita Gomez was born in Mexico, but her parents brought her to the United States as a baby. When a wave of deportations catches her in its net, she's dumped in a country where she doesn't speak the language or know a soul. Desperate to get home to her dying mother's bedside, she agrees to her sister's crazy scheme. But she never expected that the friend her sister recruited to help them would be so likable—or so attractive.

Ryan and Juanita have to convince everyone they're a couple for the remaining five days of the cruise. Then they'll return to port, make it through customs, and go their separate ways. At first it seems like a long time to pretend. But as they make a show of enjoying the ship's luxuries together, they start to realize it might not be long enough. Can a lie built on water, wind, and sunshine grow into a truth strong enough to endure once they reach dry land?

For the dreamers.

Chapter 1

Ryan saved and closed his project, then shoved his chair back. He hadn’t made as much progress as he’d hoped, but there should still be enough time to finish it before the deadline on Friday. He was more than ready to leave the deserted office behind for the evening.

As he rose, someone cleared their throat. “Ryan? Can I talk to you for a minute?”

He jerked around and blinked at his coworker. She’d slipped up behind him so quietly he hadn’t even noticed she was there. “Carmen. Sure. I didn’t realize you’d stayed late, too. I hope your deadline isn’t as tight as mine.”

“Actually…” She shifted from foot to foot. “I’ve been waiting to catch you alone. I need a favor, a big one, and I don’t know who else to ask.”

The entirely uncharacteristic tremble in Carmen’s voice made Ryan frown and look closer. Good grief, she was on the verge of tears. Her hands were clenched together and her face looked puffy. He’d never seen her so upset.

“What’s the matter?” He pulled out the chair from the workstation next to his and gestured for her to sit, sinking into his own seat and swiveling to face her. “I’ll help if I can.”

She wrung her hands. “It’s too much. I don’t want to presume on our friendship. I shouldn’t even ask, but you were the first one I thought of, and I don’t think I can do this alone…”

“Hey. It’s okay.” Ryan leaned forward, doing his best to communicate his concern. “Just tell me.”

Carmen’s eyes shifted to the side. “You can’t tell anyone else.”

“Of course not. You can trust me.”

“I mean, really.” She took a deep breath. “Remember the other day at lunch, when we were talking about the latest round of deportations?”

Ryan scowled. He still couldn’t believe how low the current administration was willing to stoop. “It’s disgusting. The idea that someone who’s lived in this country their whole life can be arrested and shipped off somewhere they don’t even speak the language—” He broke off. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s all right, I completely agree with you. Your passion on the subject is what made me think you’d be willing to help.” She gulped. “My sister was one of the people deported.”

“Oh, my god, Carmen. I’m so sorry.” Ryan took her hands.

“Juanita was born in Mexico. My parents came here when she was only a few months old. We were all so happy when DACA went into effect. She registered right away. It was such a relief not to have to worry anymore that someone might find out she was undocumented. Then, after the election…” She sniffed and swiped her cheek on her shoulder.

Ryan felt helpless. “Can you afford a good lawyer? I’ll happily donate money and help you raise more. Although I have to be honest, if she really isn’t a citizen, there’s not much hope. Not with the way things are now.”

“We’re trying to arrange things legally. But even if we’re able to bring her home eventually, it will take time. Years, probably. And we can’t wait that long.” Carmen pulled her hands from his and scrubbed her eyes. “My mother’s cancer is back.”

Ryan cursed under his breath. Why did crap like this have to happen to someone like Carmen? She was a good person. He’d always liked her. They’d even dated a couple times soon after she started working at Space City Engineering, until they’d mutually agreed the chemistry wasn’t there. People like her suffered, while the jerks and assholes of the world prospered. It just wasn’t fair.

Carmen sniffled for a moment, then raised her head. A hard, defiant light shone in her damp eyes. “So I’m going to smuggle her back into the country.”

“That’s what you want me to help with? I will, of course, although I don’t know what I can contribute. Do you know how to contact the right people? It’s got to be dangerous. I’ve heard stories on the news about trucks stuffed full of people, without water or enough air, in the middle of summer—”

Carmen was shaking her head. “You’re right. Juanita doesn’t want to risk it. But I figured out a better way.”

A twinge of foreboding made Ryan frown. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning to do something that could get you in trouble. The last thing your family needs is for you to get arrested, too.”

She looked away. “I don’t have any choice.”

He caught his breath. “You’re not at risk of being deported, are you?”

“No, I was born here, the year after my parents came over the border. Juanita and I are less than two years apart. When we were growing up, people always thought we were twins.” She pulled her phone from her pocket and thumbed it on. “We still look alike. That’s what gave me the idea.”

She handed the phone to Ryan. The screen displayed a photo of two laughing women, their arms around each other’s shoulders. Ryan had to study it for several seconds before he figured out which was Carmen. After looking up and down a few times, he decided that the woman on the left must be her sister. Her face was a tad thinner than Carmen’s, and her eyes were a bit deeper brown. But she was just as attractive as he’d always found Carmen.

Carmen extracted a card from her wallet and shoved it at him. “Look at my driver’s license. Don’t you think she could pass for me?”

One glance at the grainy picture printed on the card told him she could. No one would ever guess it didn’t depict the woman in the photo. “Yes, but what good will that do? You can’t both use the same ID.”

“True, but I also have a passport.” Her voice quickened with enthusiasm. “I went on a cruise last year with the man I was dating at the time. Security was much less strict than at an airport or even a land border crossing. They only required us to have driver’s licenses for identification. And they barely glanced at them, either when we were getting back on the ship after a day in port or when we arrived back in the US.”

Ryan stared at her, his stomach hollow. “Carmen, you’re not—”

She nodded fiercely. “There’s a cruise that leaves from Galveston next Saturday. It stops in Cozumel on Monday, then goes to Belize and Roatan before coming back to Galveston the following Saturday. I’m going to be on it. Juanita is going to meet me in Cozumel, and we’re going to switch places. She’ll enter the US using my driver’s license. I’ll take a bus to Matamoros. Once she’s safely home, I’ll use my passport to cross the border.”

“That’s crazy.” Except it wasn’t. Ryan had been on a few cruises, and he’d seen the lax security she’d described. His eyes were drawn inexorably back to the pictures on the phone and card, so very much alike. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Not as dangerous as the other options we’ve considered. If anyone gets caught, it will be me, and I really am a citizen.”

“You could still go to prison.”

“I’m willing to risk it for Juanita’s sake. And my mother’s. It’s bad, Ryan. The doctors say she only has a few months.” Her voice broke. “All she wants is for Juanita to come home. It will break her heart if she never gets to—”

He dropped her phone and driver’s license on his desk and moved his chair so he could put his arm around her. She rested her head on his shoulder and breathed raggedly for a couple of minutes.

Eventually she straightened and pulled away, giving him a wan smile. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“I’d be curled up in a dark corner somewhere bawling my eyes out if I were in your place.” He picked up her things and handed them back. “What can I do to help?”

She hesitated. Ryan realized what she was going to say an instant before she blurted it out. “Go on the cruise with me. Stay with Juanita after we switch so no one will suspect she’s not me.”

“Carmen, I—”

She rushed on. “Juanita’s never been on a cruise. She won’t know her way around the ship. And she’s going to be terrified of getting caught. If anyone notices and starts asking questions, I’m afraid she’ll fall apart. She needs someone to be there for her, to keep her company and support her and cover for her if she gets flustered. And not many people take cruises alone. Our act will be a hundred times more believable if we can pose as a couple traveling together.”

Ryan was sure she was right. The thought of her sister alone and afraid, surrounded by thousands of strangers she had to deceive, caught at his heart. Someone she could trust, who could accept her act without question and smooth over any suspicions that arose, might make all the difference. But what Carmen was asking of him was illegal and dangerous. If they were caught, he could go to jail. He’d be a fool to agree.

“I’ll pay for your ticket, of course. All you have to do is enjoy a nice vacation. I’m only asking for one week. Afterwards you can put it behind you and never think about us again.” Carmen balled her fists and gazed at him, both proud and pleading. “I’m going to do it with or without your help. I’m not going to let my mother die without her daughter at her side. I’m not going to let politics ruin my sister’s life. This is important, Ryan. I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t.”

Ryan swallowed. He’d been vocal about his opinions during the campaign and since the election. He hated the direction his country was going. He ardently believed that America should welcome immigrants, no matter their race or religion or where in the world they came from. Families like Carmen’s, who’d risked everything for a better future, deserved to live here just as much as he did.

Did he have the courage to put his convictions into practice? Or were they just words to him, after all? Nice ideas to post about on Facebook or Twitter, to argue about with his less enlightened neighbors and relatives, perhaps even to call his senator or representative about if he felt really strongly. Not worth taking any actual risks for. Certainly not worth putting his comfortable existence on the line for. Even when faced with a real flesh-and-blood person whose whole life was deeply affected by things that until this moment had been only abstractions to him.

Carmen dropped her eyes and shoved her chair back. “I’m sorry. I should never have asked you to get involved. Don’t worry. I understand.”

“Carmen, wait.” Ryan reached for her hand. “I was thinking about taking some time off, anyway. I’ve been working on this project for months without a break. After I turn it in, I’ll be ready for a vacation. A cruise sounds wonderful.”

She caught her breath, staring at him incredulously. After a moment she broke into a shaky smile. “You don’t know how much this means to me.”

“Oh, I think I do.” Ryan grinned at her, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach. He turned to his computer and opened a new window. “Let’s book a cruise.”

Chapter 2

Juanita paced the hotel room, pausing on every pass to peer out the window and scan the sidewalk below. She should never have agreed to Carmen’s plan. She should have told her family to forget that they’d ever had an older daughter. She should have refused to let her sister risk her own future to save Juanita’s. And even after fear and loneliness and homesickness weakened her so much her resolve broke, she should have told Carmen an emphatic no when she’d proposed involving an innocent stranger in their scheme.

Oh, god, there they were. Carmen was wearing Juanita’s favorite sundress. They’d shared clothes since they were teenagers. Carmen had promised to pack a suitcase full of the things her family had moved out of Juanita’s apartment before the lease expired. The immigration officials who’d arrested her hadn’t even allowed her to retrieve a few belongings. They’d put her on the plane to Mexico City with nothing but what she’d had on when they’d picked her up. She angrily blinked away the tears that always gathered when she remembered that terrifying, humiliating moment.

She pressed her forehead to the cool glass and studied the man at Carmen’s side. He was several inches taller than her sister, dressed in khaki slacks and a casual short-sleeved knit shirt, his sandy blond hair bright in the tropical sunlight. Was his face kind and trustworthy, the way Carmen had assured her he was? How would that look, anyway? He seemed friendly, at least. He smiled as he bent to say something to Carmen, the expression crinkling the skin around his eyes in an appealing fashion. Her sister hadn’t exaggerated when she’d told Juanita he was attractive.

The two of them disappeared into the hotel’s front entrance. Juanita made one last nervous circuit of the room, making sure there was nothing she wanted to add to the small pile of items on the bed, ready to be swapped for the contents of the tote bag Carmen was carrying. The rest of her meager belongings would go with her sister. She hadn’t accumulated much during her time in Mexico. It all fit into the secondhand suitcase she’d bought for her journey by bus and ferry to the island.

She returned to the window and stared out at the impossibly blue water and the enormous white ship moored at the end of the long pier. She was used to the ocean being brownish-green, the way it was off the beaches of Galveston and Padre Island. Cozumel’s water was such a brilliant turquoise it looked like something out of a painting.

A rap sounded on the door. Juanita hurried to open it, her heart racing.

Carmen rushed in, dragging the stranger behind her. “Quick, close the door. We can’t let anybody see us together.” As soon as Juanita complied, Carmen flung her arms around her. “My god, Juanita, are you okay? We’ve all been worried sick about you.”

Juanita crushed her sister close, desperately grateful for a familiar touch. “I’m fine. Really. I am.”

Carmen reluctantly disengaged and held her at arm’s length, studying her critically. “You’ve lost weight.”

“I needed to.” Juanita had been skimping on meals so her modest savings would last as long as possible. The occupational therapist’s degree she’d worked so long and hard for was useless without the ability to speak Spanish to patients. The job at a souvenir shop she’d found once her work papers had finally come through barely provided enough to cover the rent on the cheapest apartment she’d been able to find. “And I’m in great shape, because I’ve been walking everywhere.”

Carmen’s skeptical expression made it clear she knew Juanita was glossing over the truth, but she let it pass. “You’ll gain it all back over the next five days, I expect. I’ve done nothing but eat since we left Galveston.”

“Carmen, about that—”

Her sister cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Ryan, this is my sister Juanita. Juanita, this is my friend Ryan Hertz. He’s promised to take good care of you while you’re on the ship.”

The stranger extended a hand to Juanita. She accepted it, trying hard to hide her nervousness. His grip was firm and impersonal, his gaze direct. After a relaxed handshake he released her with a smile clearly designed to put her at ease. “It’s good to finally meet you. Carmen’s told me all about you.”

Juanita bit back a self-deprecating comment. Instead she merely nodded. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Have a seat.” She gestured to the two chairs at the tiny table by the window. “We need to talk.”

He hesitated, but when she gestured again more forcefully, he took one of the seats. Carmen sank into the other. Juanita perched on the edge of the bed, facing them. “Carmen, I can’t go through with this.”

“Don’t be silly.” Carmen glared at her with the stubbornness Juanita knew all too well. “Ryan and I didn’t come all this way for nothing. You’re getting on that ship, just like we planned.”

“No, I’m not.” Juanita had never been able to stand up to her sister when they disagreed, but she was going to have to this time. “I’m not going to let you put yourself at risk for my sake. Either of you. It’s not worth it. I’ve got a place to live and a decent job. My Spanish is getting better every day. I can make a life for myself here. There’s no need for any of us to break the law just so I can go back to my old life.”

Instead of the fierce argument she’d expected, Carmen looked at her hands and spoke softly. “I’m not doing this for you. Or at least, not only for you. I’m doing it for Mom.”

Damn it, that was a low blow. Juanita fought back tears. “There’s nothing I can do for Mom. We’ve been talking on the phone every day. Once I get a computer we can do video chats. It will be enough.”

“Not for her. She’s miserable with you gone. She’s convinced it’s her fault for bringing you to America in the first place. Are you going to let her go to her grave bearing that guilt? Are you going to deny her the chance to hug and kiss you one more time? Are you going to be so selfish you won’t give her the one thing in the world she wants before she dies?”

Juanita glared at Carmen, the tears spilling from her eyes matching those running down her sister’s cheeks. “I’m not going to let you guilt trip me into getting you arrested!”

Carmen’s temper flared. “And I’m not going to let you renege on our deal! You told me you’d do it. That’s why I spent the money to book this cruise, even when the only rooms left were expensive ones with balconies. That’s why I used a week of vacation I was saving for a trip to California next summer. That’s why I talked Ryan into coming with me.” Her voice softened. “When we spoke on Friday, you were ready. You said you’d given notice at your job and turned in the keys to your apartment. What’s changed?”

Juanita scrubbed her eyes. She should have known Carmen would have a dozen ready arguments. “The shop will take me back. And they can’t have rented my apartment to anyone else yet.”

“You’re not answering my question.”

Juanita couldn’t admit the truth. “I told you. I thought about it, and I decided it was too risky. I’m allowed to change my mind.”

“Not when people have gone to a lot of trouble and expense to help you! Not when your mother is dying and only wants to see you again! Not when—”

The stranger—Ryan—cleared his throat. “You might want to keep your voice down, Carmen. If there’s still a chance we’re going to go through with this, it’s important not to attract any attention.”

Carmen glared at him, but dropped her volume. “Juanita, please. For my sake, if you won’t do it for your own. And for Mom’s sake, if you won’t do it for mine.”

Juanita wished she’d quit talking about Mom. The last time they’d talked on the phone, her mother had sounded so happy. She’d rambled on and on about everything they’d do once Juanita was back in Houston. They would go shopping at the Galleria and eat at Pappadeaux and attend Mass at St. Theresa. They would visit all their friends and neighbors, who’d be overjoyed at Juanita’s safe return. She’d cook Juanita all her favorite dishes. Soon it would be time for the annual tamalada, when all the women of the community got together and made dozens of tamales to go into the freezer for Christmas Eve. Juanita had agreed with everything, even though she knew from what Carmen had told her that their mother was already too weak and in too much pain to leave the house, or even her bed most days.

She fought to keep her voice from shaking, not very successfully. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Carmen opened her mouth, but Ryan spoke first, his voice soft and compassionate. “Why not?” He gestured to the bed behind Juanita, where her pitiful little pile of belongings lay. “It looks like you’re all ready to go. You know Carmen and I just want to help you. I promise, we’re not taking a very big risk. I researched it before we left. As far as I can tell, the US government doesn’t keep track of when citizens leave the country or come back, so Carmen’s passport should be accepted without question. And you really do look just like the picture on her driver’s license. I couldn’t tell the difference, and I’ve known Carmen for three years.”

Juanita wished she hadn’t gathered her things before she’d abruptly decided she couldn’t go through with their plan. It was too big a clue that she wasn’t really worried about Carmen and her friend. He was probably right. Carmen would never have arranged this if she wasn’t sure it would work. Chances were high that they’d all breeze through customs without the officials giving them a second glance.

But there was a small chance they wouldn’t. That the officials would realize Juanita wasn’t Carmen. Then the shouting would start, and guns would point their round hollow muzzles at her face, and rough hands would seize her, and cold steel handcuffs would clamp around her wrists—

Warmth settled on her wrist, in sharp contrast to the remembered chill. Ryan’s voice cut through the memories. “It’s perfectly natural to be afraid. Just don’t let the fear keep you from doing what you want. You do want to go home, don’t you?”

She wanted it with every cell in her body. She wanted it like she wanted to breathe. She wanted it like she wanted her heart to keep beating. But fear stood between her and her desire, far taller and thicker and more formidable than the concrete and razor wire wall going up along the border.

She’d tried to like Mexico. Maybe she could have, if she’d come here of her own volition instead of by force. The people were warm and accepting, the capital city was full of vibrant energy, the landscape and weather were beautiful. But it wasn’t home.

She felt like ET, stranded on an alien planet where nothing made sense, trying desperately to contact the spaceship that had left her behind so her people would come back and rescue her. As a child she’d watched the fuzzy videotape over and over so many times it wore out. She’d never imagined that someday she’d be in the lovable little creature’s place.

She pulled her hand away from Ryan’s. “Yes, but—”

“Then let us help you.”

His voice was so earnest and entreating that she glanced up into his face. His warm golden-brown eyes caught and held hers. They contained nothing but honesty. He wanted to help her. He wasn’t afraid. If she went with him, she wouldn’t have to be afraid, either.

She yanked her gaze away, her face heating. “I—”

“Please?”

She couldn’t deny him, but she couldn’t give in, either. She balled her fists in her lap and stared at them.

After a moment he went on, quiet but intense. “The only way to fight what’s going on in America right now is to stand up to the people who’re trying to destroy everything good about our country. I don’t want to let them win. Which they will, if they succeed in driving people like you out. Please, don’t let them scare you away.”

When she still didn’t answer, his voice roughened. “Although I don’t blame you if you want nothing more to do with the US. It would probably be smarter to stay in Mexico. At least here you don’t have to worry about the same thing happening to you again.”

Her gut twisted. How could he understand so clearly, when there was no chance it would ever happen to him? Her home wasn’t home anymore. Not really. Not when at any moment she could be swept up and thrown out like so much garbage.

“But it’s not going to stay that way forever. Lots of people are working to change things. So please, consider giving us another chance. Now, while you can still be with your mother for whatever time she has left.”

Her resolve crumbled under his gentle assault. She glanced up at him, then quickly away. She looked at Carmen, who was watching their interaction breathlessly. Clearly she knew better than to interfere when Ryan’s persuasion was working. Juanita didn’t have the kind of defenses against the stranger that years of dealing with her strong-willed sister had forced her to build.

She should have known she could never hold out against the two of them. She was still terrified, but Ryan’s passionate words had reinforced the longing and defiance in her heart, while his calm confidence had muted her fear. How could she resist him when he was urging her to do the very thing she wanted desperately to do?

She hunched her shoulders and stared at the floor. “I guess.”

Carmen jumped to her feet. “Great! Ryan, take my stuff out of my bag and put hers in. Juanita, come with me to the bathroom so we can switch clothes.” She grabbed Juanita’s hand as she hurried by, her energy sweeping Juanita along in her wake. Juanita grimaced, but went along without further resistance.

This was how it had always been when they were children and teenagers. Despite being younger, Carmen was the leader, and Juanita the meek follower. She’d usually enjoyed the adventures Carmen had dragged her into, no matter how scared she’d been. At least in hindsight, after the danger was over.

She breathed a swift prayer that this time would prove the same.

Chapter 3

Ryan escorted Juanita down the crowded sidewalk. He kept his grasp on her hand light and relaxed. She was so nervous he worried she might startle and flee at the slightest provocation. They couldn’t go back to the ship while she was like this. There was too much chance someone would notice something was wrong.

He made his voice as nonchalant as possible. “Let’s walk around for a little while. Maybe do some shopping. I wouldn’t mind picking up a few souvenirs. This will be my only chance, since we’re staying on the ship in the other two ports.”

“Most of them are made in China, you know,” she said, waving at the store they were passing, where racks of gaudy trinkets begged for attention.

“Not surprising.” He stopped and picked up a tall, narrow shot glass with a crooked “Cozumel, Quintana Roo” decal. “What do you recommend?”

“Not that.” Juanita grimaced and looked around. She pointed. “The vanilla is good, but overpriced. You can get the same thing for half as much at any grocery store in Mexico City.”

“But we’re here, not there.” He walked over and picked up one of the bottles she’d indicated. “What else?”

She shook her head. “Nothing in this store, unless you want a t-shirt.” She waved at a wall covered in bright garments with pictures of dolphins and sailboats and palm trees.

“Not my style.” Ryan took the vanilla to the cashier and handed over his credit card. “Is there anything you’d like to commemorate your time in Mexico? We’ve got plenty of time to find stores with higher quality goods.”

She hesitated. Finally, with a diffident shrug, she said, “I saw a shop with some really nice leatherwork when I was walking from the ferry. I could use a new purse.”

“Perfect.” Ryan accepted the wrapped and bagged vanilla and led her out of the shop. “Let me treat you to a few fun splurges. It’s the least I can do, since you’re paying for my cruise.” He winked at her.

A shy smile rewarded his efforts. “Maybe. If I see anything I like.”

That was a good start, at least. If he could help her get comfortable enough to laugh and chat, making it back onto the ship would be a lot easier than if she was still tense. After that, they’d have the duration of the cruise to get her ready for the big test at the end. “It’s a deal. Show me the way.”

She guided him out to the sidewalk and down the street, through the throngs of tourists. Her confidence increased as Ryan followed her willingly. The tension in his gut eased. This was going to work, after all. For a little while there, he’d been worried.

After he and Carmen had finally overcome Juanita’s reluctance, they’d spent more than an hour in the hotel room, going over everything she needed to know. Several more times she’d nearly balked, but between the two of them they’d talked her down. It was obvious to Ryan that her arrest and deportation had left her with deep emotional scars. The more he glimpsed the strong, mature woman under the damage, the angrier he got. He wished those who’d voted for this could see the harm they’d done.

Juanita and Carmen had exchanged IDs and reviewed their plans one more time. Carmen would stay in the hotel room overnight. Tomorrow she would take the ferry back to the mainland. She’d travel north by bus, stopping to sightsee along the way. When she got to Matamoros, she’d wait for Juanita and Ryan to notify her that they’d cleared customs before she attempted to cross the border into Brownsville.

The sisters had exchanged tearful farewells. Ryan had hung back to give them as much privacy as he could while they embraced. Then he’d accompanied Juanita down the stairs and out into the warm, breezy sunlight.

The main tourist drag ran along the coast on this part of the island. Across four lanes of traffic, crystalline waves lapped a narrow rocky beach. On this side of the road, shops and bars and restaurants lined the sidewalk. Three more cruise ships in addition to theirs were in port, so everything was packed. Which was just as well. The more they could blend into the crowd, the better.

They arrived at the store Juanita had mentioned. Belts and sandals and purses hung on the walls. Wallets and boots covered the tables that filled the narrow, deep space. The earthy scent of leather filled the air. Ryan took a deep breath in appreciation.

Juanita turned her attention to the display of purses. She pulled down one after another, examined them inside and out, then hung them back up. Finally one met her approval. She showed Ryan the intricate decorative pattern. “See how smooth and detailed the tooling is? And the stitching is strong and even. That’s how you recognize good craftsmanship.” She looked at the tag. “It was made in a workshop on the mainland. So not quite local, but not imported, at least.” She flipped the tag over to read the price. Before Ryan could make out the number, she hurriedly hung the purse back on its hook. “It’s not worth what they’re charging for it, though.”

He didn’t comment as she moved on. But once she was well down the display, he casually checked the tag. It was quite expensive, but Ryan didn’t consider the price outrageous for a handmade item of such quality.

He moved to a display of wallets and browsed through them, appreciating the buttery texture of the leather and the solid construction that he was certain would stand up well to wear and tear. When Juanita left the purses and came to join him, he picked up the one he’d selected. “Didn’t find anything? Oh, well. I’m going to get this. There’s no need for you to wait. Head on down the street until you see something else interesting and wait for me to catch up. It might take a minute.” He waved at where the shopkeeper was ringing up another customer.

“All right.” Juanita looked nervous again, but didn’t argue. She took a deep breath and left the open front of the store, turning right toward the pier.

As soon as she was out of sight, Ryan retrieved the purse and took it to the counter with the wallet. He wondered if the shopkeeper expected him to bargain, but he could afford the full price, so he didn’t bother.

He found Juanita waiting two shops away, picking up carved onyx animal figurines, turning them over in her hands, and setting them back down. Between each she anxiously lifted her head and scanned the sidewalk. When she spotted Ryan, her face lit up. “There you are. If you want a shot glass, they’ve got some nice handblown ones here.” She indicated a shelf with an extensive selection.

“I think I will. Can you hold this while I look at them?” He pulled the purse out from behind his back and pressed it into her hands.

She stared at it with a stricken expression. “You shouldn’t have. It cost too much.”

“But I liked it. Don’t you think it goes well with this outfit?” He retrieved it and slung it over his shoulder, turning to give her a clear view of it swinging at his side.

That won a smile, although he’d hoped for a laugh. “Not really.”

He twisted his lips in an exaggerated pout. “Yes, it does. You’re just trying to get me to give it to you, but it won’t work. You watch. I’m going to start a new fashion. Every man in Houston will be carrying one of these by next spring.”

There was the laugh. She tried to trap it behind pinched lips, but it escaped. “I doubt it. Somehow I don’t think most of them could carry off the look.”

“But it’s leather. That makes it masculine enough for anyone.” She shook her head, eyes dancing, and he sighed. “No? Not even at the livestock show next spring, when all the cowboy boots and hats come out?”

“I’m afraid not.”

He sighed again, even more exaggeratedly. “Oh, well. I’ll just have to pass it on to one of my female friends. Maybe Carmen. Think she’d like it?”

“No. Not her style.”

“Tell you what. You help me pick out something your sister will love, and I’ll give you this in exchange. Sound fair?”

She spread her hands helplessly. “Whatever.”

“Great!” He passed her the purse again. This time she shrugged it onto her shoulder. Ryan admired the way the rich brown harmonized with the warm tan of her bare arms. “I hate to admit it, but it looks a lot better on you than on me.”

“That’s not saying much.” She turned her back, pretending to be very interested in the onyx animals, but after a moment he saw her hand rise to caress the smooth leather.

Smugly satisfied, he turned his attention to the shot glasses. She’d been right about their quality. It took him a while to choose among the various designs. He hesitated over one painted with vivid bird-of-paradise flowers, but eventually passed it over in favor of one made of thick, bubbly glass with a cobalt blue rim.

After the shopkeeper wrapped it in several layers of newsprint, Ryan tucked it into Carmen’s tote bag, now Juanita’s. “I’ll carry this for a while.” He took the tote bag, which she surrendered willingly. “See anything your sister would like?”

“Not here. Let’s keep looking.”

They worked their way down the row of shops. Eventually they settled on a beautiful silver Nativity set for Carmen. Juanita again protested the price, but Ryan insisted. “I can afford it. And I like supporting local craftspeople. Do you want to choose something for your mother, too? I’m going to see what I can find for my parents, and also my brother and his wife and my nephews. I don’t intend to go back to the ship until we’re so laden down we can barely carry it all.”

At the word ship, her smile vanished and her eyes dropped. He kicked himself for reminding her. She was so cheerful and talkative when she wasn’t thinking about what awaited.

“But first,” he continued, “let’s stop for a bite to eat and a drink. That place looks promising.” He pointed to the corner, where a very touristy and apparently very popular establishment was crowded with hungry patrons. “I want a margarita. What about you?”

“I can’t stand tequila.” Juanita followed him down the street. “But I wouldn’t mind a daiquiri.”

“Coming right up,” he promised. Fortune was smiling on them, because as they approached a couple climbed down from a pair of stools at the long bar. Ryan offered his hand to steady Juanita as she hopped onto one, then claimed the other.

They acquired a menu and studied it while a bartender brought their drinks. The day had gotten hot enough that Ryan ordered his margarita frozen. The tart lime slush was nicely refreshing. Juanita slurped several gulps of her strawberry daiquiri before slowing to a more moderate pace. She sighed, her tense shoulders relaxing. “Ah, that’s good.”

He’d have to trust her to know how much alcohol would relax her without making her careless. He’d better limit himself to one drink if he didn’t want to risk committing some slip himself.

They ordered some street tacos and a quesadilla to share. While they were waiting for the food to arrive, Ryan took the opportunity to tackle a subject he’d been avoiding, but which needed to be discussed before they got on the ship. “Carmen told you we’ll be sharing a room, right?”

Juanita took a drink before answering. “Yes. We both agreed that would make our cover more convincing.”

Ryan nodded, relieved. “It’s actually not a big deal. There’s a couch that gets turned into a bed whenever more than two people are sharing a room, so it’s reasonably comfortable. Carmen let me have a blanket and a couple of pillows from the bed. We can’t forget to put them back every morning before our room gets cleaned, but other than that we should be fine.”

“Good.” He couldn’t read her expression, but she seemed to accept the arrangement. At least, she wasn’t protesting.

“Any time you want privacy, just let me know, and I’ll leave the room. I might ask you to do the same sometime.” He didn’t foresee any reason he’d need to, but she’d be more comfortable making the request if she knew the arrangement was reciprocal.

“Okay.”

“I hope you know you can trust me not to take any inappropriate liberties. I’m in this to help you, not because I want anything out of it for myself.” He held her gaze for a moment to let her know he was serious, then grinned to lighten the mood. “Besides, your sister would kick my butt if I tried.”

“After I took my turn.” Juanita grinned back. “I know you won’t. But thank you for saying it.”

“No problem.” Ryan took a swig of his margarita. “However, while we’re being strictly platonic roommates in private, the more lovey-dovey we can act in public, the better.” He made a comically moony face and batted his eyelashes at her.

She giggled, as he’d intended. “What do we say when people ask how we met?”

“Carmen and I decided that the closer we stick to the truth, the better. So we just switched your names. Your sister Juanita works at my company and introduced us. It’s been a whirlwind romance. Our feelings are spilling out all over the place, and we’re too infatuated to care.”

She laughed again, louder. “I like it. Although I’m not as good an actress as Carmen is.”

“And I’m not an actor at all, but so far it hasn’t been hard. Just lots of adoring looks and occasional kisses when we think no one is looking. Although of course we make sure they are.”

He looked around with exaggerated care, then leaned toward her. She entered into the spirit of the deception, glancing back and forth warily before leaning to meet him. He touched her lips lightly, then straightened. “Like that.”

“Easy,” she said, and glanced away.

Was that a trace of breathlessness in her voice? Ryan hoped his own words hadn’t betrayed the way his heart had accelerated.

He hadn’t expected the kiss to affect him. The ones he’d feigned with Carmen hadn’t. Why should her sister be different, especially when they’d barely met? But it had. He had to resist the urge to lean forward and sample the warm, soft liveliness of her lips again. If he suggested they take the opportunity to practice a little more, would she acquiesce?

He banished the thought. It would be despicable to take advantage of her that way. He was here to help her, not seduce her. If he couldn’t trust himself to control any desire their deception might provoke, he’d better tell her they needed to come up with a different cover right now. It wouldn’t be too hard to fake a loud and dramatic argument that would explain them taking pains to avoid each other for the remainder of the cruise.

She sipped her daiquiri and turned back. “So, what else do we do? Just hang out together and enjoy the ship?”

“Exactly.” There was no need to deviate from the script he and Carmen had agreed on. He’d hate to miss out on Juanita’s company if he didn’t have to. “It probably would be fine to get off the ship in the other two ports, but every time someone looks at your ID is a chance for them to notice something wrong. So we won’t risk it. Lots of people prefer to stay on board, so no one will think it’s strange if we do.”

“Makes sense.”

Just then their food arrived. For a while they were both too busy digging in to talk. The perfectly spiced meat and fresh handmade tortillas made it clear why the restaurant was so popular. Ryan was glad they’d ordered plenty, because Juanita ate as if she hadn’t had a decent meal since she arrived in Mexico. He wouldn’t be surprised if she hadn’t.

They finished and Ryan paid, adding a generous tip. Juanita looked a great deal more relaxed, he was happy to note. Little wonder she’d been so jumpy, if she’d been starving.

They worked their way down the street, stopping to wander through any store that caught their fancy. Ryan found gifts for each member of his family, and Juanita picked out a string of onyx rosary beads for her mother. When they reached the pier, they made their way through the extensive outdoor mall that lined both sides of the road. An escalator carried them to the second story, where a walkway lined with shops crossed the road.

Ryan stopped at a booth displaying a rainbow array of brightly colored woven bracelets, each with a name in a contrasting color. Behind the counter a man worked with deft fingers, wrapping vivid nylon threads around a plastic core. “Look, you can get them custom made. My nephew would love one. His name is Jameson. He likes it, but he hates never being able to find it on those racks of keychains or pens at gas stations.” After a quick word, the proprietor went to work on a bracelet in Jameson’s school colors of green and yellow.

“They’re so pretty,” Juanita mused, fingering one in pearlescent white and deep rose.

“Would you like one?” Without waiting for her reply, he turned back to the owner. “One in those colors, too, please, that says—” He caught himself just in time. “—Carmen.”

At Juanita’s wistful sigh, he added, “And let’s get another one like it for your sister. Juanita,” he told the man.

When all three bracelets were finished, along with one in Astros blue and orange for him, Ryan and Juanita continued toward the pier. It was still early, but Ryan didn’t want to wait too long to board. It would be best to get it over with before the last-minute crowds made everyone testy and impatient.

Juanita’s steps slowed as they neared the place where two Mexican customs officials were standing by a folding table at the end of a roped-off lane, checking packages and IDs. She reached for Ryan’s hand and clutched it, her fingers squeezing so hard they cut off his circulation.

“It’s all right,” he muttered under his breath. But she didn’t relax. If anything, her grip tightened.

A glance at her ashen face told him they’d better pause and regroup. He pointed to where a small crowd had gathered around a painted backdrop flanked by potted palms. “Hey, look. That woman has parrots. Let’s go take pictures.”

For a fee, the woman set a parrot on Juanita’s shoulder and another on her forearm, while Ryan shot lots of pictures with his phone. They swapped places, and Juanita got some good pictures of one of the parrots nipping his ear. Then the woman insisted they pose together, each with a parrot on their arm, while she wielded their phones.

The red and blue bird on Ryan’s wrist opened its beak. “Beso,” it croaked.

“What’s that mean?” he asked suspiciously. “Blood? It wants more of mine, I bet.”

Juanita chuckled. “No, silly. It means kiss.” She lifted her face.

“Beso! Beso!” the parrot repeated. The spectators added their enthusiastic encouragement. Ryan surrendered to the inevitable and bent to kiss her.

He meant it to be another quick peck, but her lips were so soft and inviting he couldn’t bear to pull away immediately. Neither did Juanita. She leaned into him. He couldn’t put his arm around her without disturbing the parrots, but he pressed closer, moving his lips, just a little. Just a light, gentle exploration. Juanita’s moved against his, taut and pliant and eager. They parted, her breath sweet and warm against his mouth, and he opened—

Ryan jerked away. The crowd’s noisy cheers turned to disappointed protest. Juanita stared at him, panting.

He forced himself to smile at her, then turned to the spectators with a shrug. “Sorry, folks. Show’s over.”

They jeered good-naturedly. The woman smirked as she transferred the parrots to their perch and handed their phones back. Ryan’s face was so hot he was sure it must be bright red, but he feigned nonchalance as best he could while passing her a tip.

“Gracias, señor,” she told him.

“De nada,” he answered, grabbed Juanita’s hand, and towed her away.

Chapter 4

Juanita was so busy thinking about the way Ryan’s lips had felt on hers, while studiously avoiding looking at him, that she almost didn’t notice that he’d steered her around the square of shops and they were once again headed toward the customs checkpoint. But when she turned hastily away from him as he paused to examine a jewelry store window, she glimpsed the two uniformed officials ahead. One was rummaging through a bag on the table. The other scowled down at a card in his hand, then lifted his head to glower at the woman in front of him.

His cold expression brought it all rushing back. She stepped backward, bumping into the person behind her. He made an annoyed comment and shoved past. Juanita barely heard. Her heart pounded. Her throat was so dry she couldn’t swallow. Nausea churned in her stomach. What had ever made her think she’d be able to do this? When Carmen had described this part of her plan, Juanita had known she’d be scared, but she’d never imagined she’d be nearly paralyzed by terror.

It wasn’t too late to return to the hotel and swap back. This time she’d make Carmen listen. Ryan, too. She wouldn’t let them railroad her again. Neither of them understood what they were asking her to do.

A tender touch stroked her cheek. She leaned into it instinctively, craving comfort. His voice soft in her ear, Ryan asked, “Would you like to watch for a while before we go through? We can sit on that bench over there. You’ll have a good view. You can see for yourself how easy it is. We won’t get in line until you’re ready.”

She didn’t know if his plan would help, or if it would just make things worse. “Maybe. But not yet.” She scanned their surroundings desperately, seeking any excuse to delay. Her gaze fell on a booth a few hundred feet away down an intersecting row of shops. “Look!” She tried to make her voice bright and enthusiastic, with only limited success. “They’ve got those fish that eat the dead skin off your feet. I’ve wanted to try that since the first time I heard about it. Aren’t they illegal in the United States now?”

“I have no idea.” Ryan made a face. “That sounds disgusting. Are you serious?”

“Of course.” Juanita remembered watching a news report about the practice, one summer while she was home from college. She really had been intrigued by the idea, though Carmen and her mother had been just as grossed out as Ryan was. She tugged at his hand. “Come on. Let’s see how much they’re charging. Please?”

Ryan looked deeply skeptical, but yielded to her pull. Juanita dragged him over to the booth. Several wide, low tanks held swarms of tiny brown fish. People sat on benches with their feet dangling in the water. The fish mobbed their heels and toes, mouths nibbling, tails waving.

Juanita scanned the posted prices. “There’s a discount for two. Do it with me, please?”

“You’ve got to be crazy.” Ryan stared at the fish in horrified fascination.

“It’s perfectly fine.” Juanita pointed to a poster with pictures and text, scanning the explanations. “It says they’re native to the limestone caves around here. They won’t hurt you, because they don’t eat living skin, only the dead bits that flake off. It’s the perfect pedicure.”

Ryan wrinkled his nose. “Go ahead if you want to. I’ll skip it.”

Juanita’s shoulders drooped. “Never mind. I won’t ask you to pay for me if you’re not going to do it, too.” The interest that had momentarily distracted her from the waiting ordeal waned, and the sick feeling in her stomach returned.

Ryan hesitated. Then he put an arm around her shoulders. Quietly he said, “Tell you what. Even though I don’t like the idea, I’m willing to give it a try. But in exchange, I want you to agree to try the thing that frightens you.”

She pulled away, though not far enough to dislodge his arm, and glared at him. “That’s not exactly a fair trade.”

“Are you sure? Those fish have got me pretty freaked out.” He shuddered. “I can’t shake the suspicion that they’re going to keep gnawing away with those sharp little teeth until I pull two bloody stumps out of the water.”

Juanita didn’t know if he was joking or not. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Not to me.” Ryan winced. “Also, I’m very ticklish.”

Now she was pretty sure he was kidding. But she really did want to give it a try. And she wanted Ryan to do it with her. He’d keep her entertained while the fish did their thing. He’d see it wasn’t as gross as he thought. And it would give her at least fifteen minutes before she had to face the checkpoint again. “All right.”

“Are you sure? I’m going to hold you to it.”

Juanita glanced over her shoulder. She couldn’t see the officials from here, but the end of the line of waiting people extended around the corner. None of them looked anxious, only bored and impatient. She took a deep breath. “Yeah.”

He broke into a wide grin that made her feel as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. “Then let’s feed the fish.”

While Juanita spoke to the attendant, Ryan sat on one of the benches, took off his shoes, and rolled up his slacks. Juanita perched on the bench opposite, tucked her sundress around her thighs, and slid her sandals off. She’d neglected her grooming since the deportation. But at least she’d located a cheap bottle of nail polish remover at the store and gotten rid of the chipped remains of her last pedicure. And her toenails were still a reasonable length.

His feet were narrow and high-arched, with long toes and neatly trimmed nails. His lower legs had a light dusting of hair, a shade darker than that on his head. He poised his feet over the water, wiggling his toes. “I suppose you won’t let me change my mind and back out of this, will you?”

“No way.” He was going to hold her to her end of the bargain, so she’d darn well hold him to his. “On three.”

He scrunched his face, but joined her in counting. “One, two… three.”

Juanita plunged her feet into the cool water, in unison with Ryan. The fish scattered. He swished his legs gently. “Maybe they’ll stay away. I probably taste bad.”

“Hold still.” Juanita followed her own admonition. The fish ventured back. One nibbled her heel, another her big toe. Their touch was light and swift. Soon hundreds of fish clustered around Juanita’s feet, bumping into her like tiny tapping fingers.

Ryan muffled a snort as the fish found him. She glanced up to find his lips pressed together and his eyes squeezed closed. “Damn, that tickles,” he muttered through clenched teeth.

“You’ll get used to it.” The sensation was kind of ticklish, but nothing Juanita couldn’t handle. “It’s easier if you don’t focus on it. Talk to me so you’ll be distracted. Tell me more about the ship. What’s its name? What will we do after we get on?”

He didn’t open his eyes, but he answered readily. “It’s the Festival Zephyr. I thought we could go to our room and get you settled in. Then we can walk around for a while. I’ll give you the tour so you know where things are. Then it will be time for dinner. I’m looking forward to eating in the dining room tonight. Carmen and I stuck to the buffet on the Lido deck because we didn’t want anyone to get too familiar with her, but now that it’s you, it will be fine to get acquainted with the other people assigned to our table.”

“If you think that’s a good idea.” The thought intimidated Juanita, but she wasn’t going to let him see that.

“I do. Then we can go to the show in the theater. They’ve got some really talented singers and dancers on this sailing. It’s not Broadway, but the two shows I’ve seen so far were good. After it’s over we can hang out in the comedy club or the piano bar or the karaoke lounge. Or go dancing at the nightclub. Or watch the movie they show on a big screen over the pool. You don’t have to worry about getting bored, I promise.”

“Sounds fun.” It did, actually. She would enjoy any of the activities he’d described. At least, she would with him to keep her company. If she’d managed to persuade Carmen not to get anyone else involved, she would have holed up in her room and not come out until they were back in Galveston.

Who was she kidding? If she were alone, she’d never make it onto the ship. While with Ryan, she just might. He wasn’t going to give up until he’d teased or cajoled or strong-armed her past the checkpoint.

She watched the fish for a moment, then looked back up at him. This time he had his eyes open, regarding her thoughtfully. “You’ve never been on a cruise before?” he asked.

“I never dared.” She waved vaguely toward the checkpoint. “Even after DACA let me get a legal driver’s license, I wasn’t about to risk leaving the country. And of course, my mother and father couldn’t, either. They saved up and took us to Walt Disney World one summer, though. I was eleven. It was amazing.” She grinned, remembering. “I rode Space Mountain ten times in a row.”

His grin answered hers, warm and bright. Then he sobered. “Do you think your parents are in danger of deportation?”

“Probably not. They never registered with the government.” She tried to keep the bitterness out of her voice, but it was hard. “I thought DACA was the best thing that ever happened to me, but it turned out to be the worst. After the election, it became a big directory of names and addresses for Immigration to use to find us.”

He extended a foot to brush hers, sending the fish darting away. She shivered at the touch. It was comforting, the way he intended it, but it also sent electric tingles shooting through her body. Just the way his kiss had. If only it could have lasted a second or two longer…

She’d never kissed a man she’d only known for a few hours before. Heck, she’d never kissed anyone she wasn’t deeply in love with before. And only three of them. Jacob, back in high school, and Davis her junior year of college, and Javier after she’d moved out on her own. They’d all been good relationships, though they hadn’t lasted.

But none of them had affected her as immediately or as strongly as Ryan. Even that first light peck had taken her breath away. The second had made her want to forget the parrots and the spectators and the woman with their cameras and melt into his arms.

His toes trailed along the arch of her foot. She brought her other foot up and stroked the top of his, trapping it between hers. She pressed her feet together, holding him there until the fish found them again and dove to their feast. “Gotcha.”

He smiled. “Hope I’m not poisoning them.” His voice turned serious. “Our time is almost up. Ready to head to the ship?”

She pressed his foot tighter and raised her head to stare at the line that vanished around the corner to where her own personal nightmare was waiting. “It’s not going to get any easier if we wait, is it?”

“I doubt it.”

She shivered again, this one much less pleasant than those he’d provoked. “You’ll be right there next to me?”

“I promise.”

“If anything happens…” She couldn’t force herself to go on.

“I’ll make a fuss and keep their attention focused on me. You slip away into the crowd. After you’re sure no one is following you, go back to Carmen at the hotel. The two of you can figure something out.”

He was so calm and assured. She didn’t want him to get in trouble for her sake. But having an alternate plan helped. It let her think about something other than standing frozen and helpless while they handcuffed her and dragged her away.

“That’s very unlikely to happen, though. There’s a 99.999 percent chance they’ll glance at our driver’s licenses and wave us through. You believe that, right?” He caught her eyes and held them.

She did. She had to. “Yes,” she whispered.

He didn’t say anything, just kept looking at her, pressing his feet against hers. She looked back, letting his confidence and courage flow through their locked gazes into her heart.

The attendant came over and cleared her throat. “Excuse me, but your time is up. Would you like to pay for more?”

“No, thank you,” Juanita said before Ryan could speak. “I’m ready.” She took the towel the attendant handed her and reluctantly disengaged her feet from Ryan’s.

Ryan swung his legs out of the tank and worked to dry them. “So are your feet nice and soft now?”

“Maybe a little.” She rubbed her heel. “Not much, though.”

“We can stay longer if you want.”

“No.” Now that she’d made up her mind, she wanted to get it over with before her resolve faltered again.

Once their shoes were back on and Ryan had paid, they gathered their bags and set out. Ryan reached for her, and she clutched his hand. The line was shorter than it had been, but it still stretched around the corner. They took their places at the end.

Ryan kept up a stream of light, shallow chatter. Juanita mumbled an occasional response, but otherwise concentrated on breathing slowly and deeply. That was supposed to help, wasn’t it? It didn’t seem to accomplish much, but she kept it up because she had nothing better to try.

The line shuffled forward, and they rounded the corner. Ryan gripped her hand tighter. Juanita sucked in her breath and gazed resolutely at the customs officials.

The first few times one of them accepted a driver’s license or passport from a hand and frowned at it, her heart pounded so hard she thought she would pass out. But each time, they passed it back and the person strode off down the pier toward the ship. Around the fifth or sixth time, she realized the officials’ expressions weren’t hostile, but bored. After the tenth or eleventh, her pulse began to slow. By the twentieth or so, she could watch the whole interaction with only a slight tremor. By the thirtieth, the tedium was starting to get to her. How much longer did they have to wait?

After the fortieth, it was their turn. Ryan wrapped one arm around her and gave her a swift, hard hug, then let go. He set the tote bag and their bundles of purchases on the table, and one official began to poke through the contents. The other turned brusquely to her.

Pulse hammering in her ears, Juanita pulled her wallet from the leather purse Ryan had bought her. Her fingers shook, but she managed to extract Carmen’s driver’s license, along with the plastic card printed with the cruise line’s logo and Carmen’s name that identified her as a passenger. She couldn’t force herself to lift her gaze as she handed them over.

The instant stretched impossibly long. Juanita felt as if she was about to throw up. She couldn’t breathe. Dying would be infinitely easier than this. She waited in despair for the inevitable disastrous discovery.

The man handed her cards back. Juanita stumbled forward. Then Ryan’s arm was around her again and they were walking together down the pier. She felt dizzy. Her breaths hissed loud and ragged in her ears.

“See? Nothing to it,” he murmured into her ear. “Keep your cruise card out. They’ll check it again when we board. They want to make sure they don’t leave anyone behind.”

She nodded. Her voice had deserted her, but he didn’t seem to mind. She pushed Carmen’s license back into its slot and closed her wallet. When she kept clutching it, Ryan pried it gently from her fingers and tucked it into her purse.

The pier was a long concrete strip about fifty feet wide. All around them people strolled toward the docked ships, some relaxed and happy, some tired and grumpy, but all with the assurance that they belonged there. Now Juanita did, too. No one had any reason to suspect she was an imposter.

They neared the ship. It rose beside the pier, tall as a city building. A narrow gangway bridged the gap between the concrete and a door in the ship’s side. Canvas banners emblazoned with the Festival logo stretched below the handrails. About a dozen people lined it, waiting for a cruise line employee to scan their cards and grant them permission to enter.

Juanita’s heart accelerated again as Ryan guided her into line, but not as badly as before. The woman wielding the handheld scanner was wearing a uniform, but it was casually nautical instead of intimidatingly martial, white and sky blue with cheerful red trim instead of forbidding black. She welcomed each returning passenger with a smile and a friendly word. And there was no picture on the card clutched in Juanita’s sweaty fingers, only Carmen’s name, so the woman would have no way to realize the wrong sister was offering it to her.

The woman pointed her scanner at Ryan’s card. “Did you enjoy your day in Cozumel?”

“Very much,” he told her with a charming grin. Juanita pasted a smile on her lips as the woman ran the scanner over her card, but she was so busy grinning back at Ryan she didn’t even glance at Juanita. Juanita was grateful, but at the same time she felt a twinge of annoyance. Ryan didn’t have to distract the woman by flirting with her. She wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong, even if she’d looked carefully at Juanita or they’d exchanged empty pleasantries. Juanita wasn’t so frightened she couldn’t play her part.

“Here we are,” Ryan murmured as they waited for an elevator in a small, plain vestibule. One of the six sets of doors slid open, and they crowded in, along with a dozen others. Ryan pushed the button marked “10,” then more numbers as people called requests.

Juanita stayed quiet while the elevator rose and the other passengers shared accounts of their adventures. A family with wet hair and sunburned faces chattered about swimming with dolphins. A couple who’d obviously had a lot to drink enthused about salsa dancing lessons. An older couple commented critically on the quality of the scuba equipment they’d rented. Ryan contributed to the conversation with appreciative or commiserating comments, but didn’t volunteer anything about their day.

Floor by floor the other passengers departed, until only Ryan and Juanita remained. He put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “You did great.”

“I guess you and Carmen were right. It was easy.” Now that they were past the danger, Juanita was embarrassed about how she’d acted. Her fear really had been way out of proportion to the risk.

“But stressful.” His tone was warm, without a trace of judgement. “Now we’ve got plenty of time to relax and recover before we have to do it again.”

The elevator chimed and the doors slid open. Ryan pulled his arm away. “Our floor. The room number is on your cruise card if you forget it.”

He led her into a hallway that might have been part of any hotel, except longer and narrower. Doors were spaced at regular intervals on both sides. The carpet and paint were pleasant shades of coral and turquoise, and large photos of tropical scenes decorated the walls.

Ryan stopped at a door indistinguishable from the others except for the number beside it. He slid his cruise card into a slot in the handle. “They double as room keys. You can also use it to charge purchases to our account.”

Juanita had no intention of incurring expenses that Ryan or Carmen would have to pay for, but she nodded. Ryan held the door open and moved to one side. “Welcome to your home for the next five days.”

She squeezed past him. A narrow space with a door on the left and cabinets on the right opened into a small but pleasant room. The coral and turquoise color scheme continued on the walls and floor and the cushions of the built-in couch. A king-sized bed was made up with a fluffy white comforter and piles of pillows. An elephant constructed of rolled and folded towels perched at its foot, terrycloth trunk raised, black felt eyes peering at Juanita. She laughed, tension flowing out of her shoulders and back and abdomen. “Looks like we have a roommate.”

“Several.” Ryan pointed at a counter between the cabinets on the right. A swan rested among a clutter of papers and a monkey hung from a cabinet knob. “We get a new one each day, and I can’t bear to take them apart.”

“They make a nice collection.” Juanita deposited the tote bag on the couch.

Ryan opened a tall, narrow closet. “Carmen left your suitcase in here. You probably want to look through what she packed. She hung up a lot of it.” He waved at dresses on hangers. Juanita recognized several of them.

He shut the closet and turned around, opening the door on the other side. “Bathroom’s here. Your toiletries are on the shelves. Carmen said she brought anything she thought you might need or want.”

Juanita nodded. Knowing her sister, there would be far more products than Juanita had any use for.

Ryan stashed their purchases in a cabinet, then crossed the room, past the foot of the bed. A curtain shrouded the far wall; he drew it open. “Come see the best part.” He pushed open a narrow glass door and beckoned to Juanita.

She stepped through into warm sunlight and a cool breeze. The balcony was small, but it gave a dramatic view of the water far below and the coast of Cozumel stretching toward the horizon. Seagulls rode the wind, level with her eyes. Another cruise ship glided out to sea. Sailboats and other small vessels dotted the vivid aqua waves.

Juanita sighed and leaned on the railing, craning to see in every direction. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Yes,” Ryan agreed. Juanita turned to find him looking, not out at the ocean, but at her.

The intensity of his gaze both thrilled her and made her uncomfortable. She laughed nervously. “It was cloudy yesterday when the ferry arrived, so I didn’t get to enjoy the full effect.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Ryan didn’t look away.

Juanita’s heart pounded for an entirely different reason than her earlier fear. How would he react if she leaned close and tilted her face up? There was no one watching they needed to fool into believing they were a couple. Would Ryan want to kiss her if it was only for the two of them?

Juanita wanted to kiss him. She wanted to enjoy more of the delightful sensations that had swept her the last time their lips met. She wanted to see if his tongue felt as good as his lips. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and press her hands into his back. She wanted his arms to encircle her and draw her tight against his body. She wanted…

Abruptly Ryan turned away and braced his elbows on the railing. Juanita thought he was breathing a little more heavily than usual, but she couldn’t tell for sure. “I’ll wait out here while you get settled in. Whenever you’re ready for that tour, just let me know.”

Juanita concealed her disappointment. Guess that answered her question. Ryan wasn’t interested in her that way. He was willing to pretend in public, but in private everything would stay strictly friendly.

It was probably just as well. Sharing a room was going to be awkward enough without inconvenient attraction complicating things. Juanita would just have to ignore the way her body responded to Ryan’s presence. He hadn’t signed up for any sort of actual relationship when he’d agreed to help her. He expected his involvement in her troubles to end as soon they reached Galveston. The last thing he needed was to get physically or emotionally entangled with an illegal alien, someone whose very presence in his country was a crime.

She swallowed hard and nodded. “Okay.” She didn’t trust her voice to remain steady if she said any more.

Ryan edged along the rail until there was enough space for her to reach the door without brushing against him. Her steps heavy, Juanita went to put away her handful of possessions and see what Carmen had packed for her.

Chapter 5

Ryan gripped the balcony rail and stared blindly at the water. All he could see was Juanita’s lovely face gazing in delight at the sweeping view, lifting to savor the breeze on her cheeks, eyes shining and lips slightly parted. All evidence of the stress and fear she’d suffered had fallen away, replaced by pure sensual enjoyment. He’d longed to enfold her in his embrace and bend to taste more of the sweetness he’d so briefly sampled, this time unrestrained by watching eyes. Free of the urgency to go anywhere or do anything but take as much time as he wanted enjoying the touch of her lips and tongue.

But of course he couldn’t do that. Juanita deserved to feel safe. Sharing a room made it vital for him to respect her boundaries even more conscientiously than he normally would. She wouldn’t be able to get away from him if she found his advances unwelcome. She must feel terribly vulnerable, knowing he’d be only a few feet away while she slept. He couldn’t let himself do anything that would make the situation even worse for her.

She didn’t owe him anything in return for his help. If she thought she did, he must take pains to disabuse her of the notion. He couldn’t give her the message, even subtly, that he wanted a physical relationship. With them trapped together this way, she wasn’t really free to refuse.

Only after she was safely through customs and they were both back in their own separate homes would it be acceptable for him to pursue anything other than friendship. But at that point she’d be far too occupied getting resettled and taking care of her mother to have energy for anything else.

And even if eventually, after she’d dealt with more important things, she expressed returned interest, did he really want to get involved with someone with such profound legal troubles? Assuming they got her back into the US without getting caught, the smartest thing for both of them would be to distance themselves from each other. She should move to a different city or state and start a new life with as few links to her past as possible. He should break all ties and stay far away, so Immigration could never use him to find her.

He was an adult. He’d dealt with romantic disappointments before. It was unfortunate he’d encountered Juanita under these circumstances, but that’s the way things had played out. He was mature enough to control his feelings and handle the situation gracefully.

So when Juanita finally finished poking through all the cabinets, rummaging in the big suitcase Carmen had packed, and exploring the vast array of bottles and tubes her sister had stashed in the bathroom, Ryan turned to greet the opening door with a cheerful, relaxed smile. “Ready to go?”

She smiled hesitantly back. “I guess. What are you going to show me first?”

“Nice as the view is here, we’re on the wrong side of the ship to watch them unmoor us. I know where we can get a better look.” He didn’t want to squeeze past her. The quarters were too tight to avoid touching her as he passed. Instead he held the door and gestured for Juanita to precede him across the cabin.

Out in the hall he took the lead again, turning toward the bow. “Our cabin is on the starboard side of the ship. That’s the right side when you’re facing forward. The left side is port. When you turn around and face aft, starboard is on your left and port is on your right.”

Comprehension dawned in Juanita’s eyes. “Oh. Like stage right and stage left. It doesn’t matter which way you’re facing, the sides stay the same.”

“Exactly. Or like the driver’s side and passenger side of a car.” Ryan shot her a sidelong glance. “You do theater?”

She shrugged, but a smile played over her lips. “I did in high school and college. Musicals, mostly. I was usually in the chorus, but once I played Liat in South Pacific, and once I was Chava in Fiddler on the Roof.”

Ryan had heard of the shows, but didn’t know enough about them to recognize the characters or know how big the parts were. Nevertheless, he nodded sagely. “Tell me more.”

At first Juanita was hesitant, but as he listened attentively she grew more enthusiastic. She was recounting the plot of South Pacific when they reached the end of the corridor. He opened an unremarkable door that led to a short passage. “They call this a secret balcony. You have to know where it is to find it. Most people don’t, so it’s usually pretty quiet.” He shoved open the heavy outer door and followed her through it.

“This is great!” Juanita exclaimed. She hurried forward. The balcony stretched across the front of the ship. Below them the point of the bow extended forward. Juanita leaned on the chest-high solid railing and pointed. “Can we go down there?”

“Unfortunately, no. Employees only. But look.” Ryan led her to the far side, where a section of the balcony extended past the ship’s side. “We’re right on top of the bridge. I came out here and watched us tie up this morning.” He pointed to where, far below, dockworkers were unhooking heavy cables from the bollards lining the pier. “I’m always impressed that such a huge ship needs such simple equipment to dock. Just some ropes and a few good solid places to attach them.”

Juanita watched, absorbed, as a cable went slack, the workers lifted the looped end over the wide top of the short, bulbous post, and the machinery within the ship drew the cable back inside. Ryan watched, too, but he kept sneaking glances at Juanita, enjoying the way she gave her full attention to the object of her interest, holding nothing back.

Soon the last cables holding the ship in place fell away. A subtle vibration traveled from the deck into Ryan’s feet. Water churned in the widening gap between ship and dock. Juanita hung so far over the railing his stomach clenched. The ship edged away until it was well clear, then the engines reversed and it ponderously changed directions.

Juanita grabbed Ryan’s hand and hurried back toward the center of the balcony, towing him along. The strengthening wind whipped her hair. She pushed the errant strands out of her eyes and raised her voice to be heard over the rush. “We’re on our way! I can hardly believe it. I’m going home!”

Ryan’s throat tightened. He put one arm around Juanita and hugged her. “Yes, you are.”

Her eyes were shining. “I can’t thank you enough for taking such a huge risk to help me. I owe you so much. And Carmen, too. I’m sorry I was such a chicken. Both of you were absolutely right. I should have listened when you told me they wouldn’t notice that it wasn’t my picture—”

Beyond Juanita, a door opened. A woman emerged, followed by a man and two children. The kids scampered toward the railing, the adults hurrying close behind.

Juanita kept talking. “—on Carmen’s—”

Fear surged through Ryan. How much had the strangers heard? He had to silence Juanita fast, before she could blurt out more. In his panic, he could only think of one way.

He dropped his mouth onto hers, smothering the incriminating words.

Juanita froze. Ryan started to pull away, but before he could, her arms wrapped around his neck and her mouth opened. Her tongue met Ryan’s, tentative at first, then more confident. His pulse hammered in his ears. He drew her against him as they explored each other, oblivious to everything but her mouth moving against his and the vibrant length of her body pressed into him.

An embarrassed cough slammed him back to awareness. He broke away. Juanita regarded him with a dreamy smile. “What was—”

He jerked his head at the couple herding their kids down the railing. She glanced over her shoulder, stiffening when she saw them. “Oh.” Her face reddened.

Ryan dropped his arms and stepped back. He kept his voice low. “They were about to overhear what you were saying. I had to stop you. I’m sorry.”

Juanita shrugged. “Don’t be. That was quick thinking. I should have known better. From now on I’ll keep my mouth shut.” She turned and propped her forearms on the railing, clasping her hands. “You’re a good actor. They certainly don’t seem to realize it wasn’t real.”

Ryan glanced at the family. The children were oblivious, chattering and pointing at the water and receding shore. Their parents responded while carefully avoiding looking in Ryan and Juanita’s direction.

He wanted to protest. Maybe the kiss hadn’t been real when it started, but it had swiftly ceased to be an act. At least for him. He’d thought for her, too. But clearly he’d been wrong.

She went on, her tone flat, all her eagerness gone as she stared out at the coast of Cozumel flowing past. “We agreed to put on a show. Anytime you think it’s necessary, go ahead. I’ll play along.”

“Okay.” Ryan hated what his thoughtless impulse had done to her. He could easily have interrupted her with a remark or a gesture instead of a kiss. And even if the couple had heard, so what? They wouldn’t have understood or cared. He didn’t need to be paranoid. They’d attract a lot more attention if people suspected he was forcing unwanted attention on Juanita than if they simply overheard a few injudicious remarks. From now on he was going to be a lot more circumspect. They could pull this off just fine without acting like ill-mannered idiots who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

For a while they were silent, staring out over the water as the ship progressed down the coast. Ryan was trying to think of something innocuous to say when Juanita caught her breath and pointed. “Was that a dolphin?”

“Where?” Ryan scanned the water in the direction she was indicating. “I saw several when we were leaving Galveston. They like to—” A smooth gray back broke the surface, followed by a broad tail. “There!”

“I saw.” Juanita breathlessly stared at the spot where the dolphin had disappeared, all the earlier eagerness back in her face and taut body. “Look, another!”

Dolphin after dolphin broke the surface. Ryan and Juanita took turns pointing them out to each other. Soon the family down the railing was pointing and calling as well. One leapt completely out of the water, drawing gasps from all of them. Another blew a blast of spray. Several times the small backs of calves surfaced beside their mothers.

Eventually, as Cozumel receded behind them, the dolphins quit appearing. Juanita leaned her head on Ryan’s shoulder. “That was amazing.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” He desperately wanted to put his arm around her waist, but he refrained. No more stealing touches under the guise of acting. He respected her more than that.

Juanita glanced over at the family without lifting her head. She dropped her voice to a murmur he could barely hear above the wind. “Think we should give them a little more reason to believe we’re so crazy for each other we don’t care how rude we’re being?”

Ryan’s heart stuttered. He tried to keep his voice casual. “If you think so.”

If his words sounded as strained to Juanita as they did to him, she gave no sign. Her voice was playful. “It couldn’t hurt.”

Not their cover, perhaps. But Ryan wasn’t at all sure more feigned intimacy wouldn’t end up hurting Juanita or him or both of them. That didn’t mean he was going to refuse if she suggested it, though. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

She grinned at him and twined her arms around his neck. Her breasts pressed into his chest. She reached for his mouth and he lowered his head to meet her.

This time he tried to hold back and keep things less intense. But her lips moved and her tongue teased until he had to respond. Before long they were right where they’d left off, both deep into the shared space created by his mouth and hers. Ryan quit thinking and let instinct take over. His hands roamed her back. Hers caressed his neck. She paused, and he reluctantly prepared to release her, but she only snatched a breath and returned for more.

Finally, when Ryan was drunk on sensation, Juanita pulled away with a sigh. She looked over his shoulder, then laid her head on his chest. “We scared them away.”

Ryan glanced around. Sure enough, the family was gone. He forced a laugh. “Guess we don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“No.” But Juanita made no move to break their embrace.

Silently Ryan groaned. What the hell was he doing? And what did Juanita want? Was this some kind of game for her? Was it just a distraction from her fears or an outlet for her tension? Or were the same sort of alarming feelings stirring in her as were becoming increasingly difficult for him to deny?

And either way, how much further would she want to take it?

It was up to him to cool things off. They hadn’t even known each other for a full day yet. Not even twelve hours. It was much, much too early to be thinking the things that were trying to worm into his brain.

He had no right to ever think those things. She trusted him to take care of her. He wasn’t going to let lust and perhaps infatuation make him lose sight of his responsibility. That’s all this was. He wasn’t going to allow the fact that his body responded to hers fool him into believing there was anything more to it. And he wasn’t going to let her make that mistake, either.

Gently, he disengaged. A glance at his watch gave him an excuse. “It’s after seven. We need to get moving if we don’t want to be late for dinner. Our dining room is all the way aft.”

She sighed and brushed at her windswept hair. “Do we need to dress up?”

“Not tonight. There are only a couple of formal nights—last night was, and there will be another later. But today’s casual. What we’re wearing will be fine.”

“All right. But I’d like to stop by the room to fix my hair.”

Her hair looked glorious, wild and tousled and messy in a way that made him ache to run his fingers through its springy waves. But he couldn’t tell her that. Besides, she wouldn’t believe him. Women didn’t understand how appealing that sort of thing was to men. Or to him, at least. “Sure. It’s on the way. I could use to run a comb through mine, too.”

The way her eyes lingered made him wonder if she was having similar thoughts. But she only nodded and grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the door. “Let’s get going, then. I’m starving.”

Chapter 6

Despite Ryan’s reassurance, Juanita was nervous as they rode the elevator down to the third floor where the main entrance to their dining room was located. There was another in the middle of the ship, but they were assigned to the one in the stern. She scanned the other occupants of the elevator, trying not to be too obvious. They were mostly in shorts or jeans, with one other casual sundress and one pair of slacks besides Ryan’s.

She frowned at the mirror lining the wall and smoothed a strand of hair back into the bun she’d twisted up too quickly to get as neat as she liked. Ryan’s sand-colored hair looked as perfect as if he’d just come from a salon. She liked it, although she’d liked it ruffled by the wind just as much. She had a feeling she’d like it however it looked, even mashed down and sticking out all over from a night pressed against his pillow. She might get a chance to see it in that state tomorrow morning, if she caught a glimpse before he had a chance to neaten it.

Before she could think further about them waking up in the same room, the elevator stopped, the doors slid open, and they all piled out. A survey of the crowds shuffling into the dining room, along with those already seated, confirmed her observations. She and Ryan were among the more nicely dressed of the relaxed, cheerful passengers. They didn’t stand out at all. Juanita breathed a sigh of relief as they followed a waiter between the tables.

Their assigned place was all the way in the back. Windows revealed the ship’s wake receding into the distance, although the dimming light outside and the bright illumination within created reflections that obscured most of the view.

The waiter led them to a table for four. Another couple was already seated there, perusing menus. Ryan extended his hand to the man. “Hi, I’m Ryan Hertz, and this is Carmen Gomez. Nice to meet you.”

The man accepted Ryan’s hand and shook it. “I’m Dave Jackson, and this is my wife Nancy. Welcome, have a seat.”

The woman smiled at Juanita. “I’m so glad you’ve joined us. We were starting to think we’d be eating alone the whole cruise.”

Juanita shook her hand and Dave’s. They both looked to be in their late forties or early fifties. Dave had on a bright tropical shirt and khaki shorts. Nancy was wearing a blue blouse and white slacks. They both looked relaxed and comfortable and very much at home. Juanita smiled at them, trying to hide her nervousness. “Thank you.”

Ryan pulled out the chair next to Nancy and nodded for Juanita to take a seat. “We’ve been eating at the buffet, but we keep hearing the food here is better, so I persuaded Carmen to give it a try.”

“Much better,” Nancy told them as Ryan seated himself beside Dave. She smiled at Juanita. “Is this your first cruise, dear?”

“Yes, actually.” Juanita picked up her menu and opened it to give herself an excuse to look down.

“I’ve been on a couple,” Ryan contributed. “Never on Festival before, though. What about y’all?”

“We’ve been taking one every November for around ten years now,” Dave said.

“The first was to celebrate our twentieth anniversary, and we enjoyed it so much we keep coming back,” Nancy said. “Where are you from?”

“Houston,” Ryan told her. “And you?”

“Dallas. Dave is a tax accountant and I teach fifth grade. What about you?”

“I’m a civil engineer and Carmen is an occupational therapist.” Ryan opened his menu. “So what do you recommend?”

“You have to try the escargot, especially if you’ve never had it before. Cruises are the perfect opportunity to sample new things.” Nancy gave them both a motherly smile.

“If you can’t decide between two, order them both,” Dave advised. “They don’t mind. I’m getting the escargot and the caesar salad. And the prime rib for my entree.”

Juanita nodded and focused on her menu while Ryan continued chatting with their tablemates. There were six appetizers to choose from, and six entrees. Plus a few special selections for an additional charge, although everything on the normal list sounded so delicious she didn’t understand why anyone would want to pay extra.

Despite Nancy’s advice, she wasn’t about to eat snails, even under a fancy French name. And she wasn’t going to be greedy and demand more than one item. Even so, it was a hard choice. Finally she settled on cream of mushroom soup for her appetizer and grilled tilapia with mango salsa for her entree.

Their waiter arrived, introduced himself as Emil, and took their orders. He brought them a basket of rolls, so Juanita had something to occupy her hands while everyone chatted. Carmen had advised her to stick to sharing her own background as much as possible, instead of trying to talk about Carmen’s life as if it were her own. She was less likely to get her story mixed up that way. So she told Dave and Nancy the truth about the career she’d pursued until two months ago, the neighborhood where she’d lived, and the activities she’d enjoyed. If things continued to go as well as they had so far, maybe at least some of those things would be true again soon.

“So how did you two meet?” Dave asked.

Juanita tensed, but Ryan stayed as calm as if the question were completely innocuous. “Carmen’s sister works in my department. She introduced us. We hit it off right away, and we’ve been dating ever since.”

Juanita had to disguise a laugh with a cough. True enough, as far as it went.

“Are you all right?” Nancy asked, concerned. When Juanita assured her she was, she gave them both a teasing smile. “Any long term plans?”

“Um…” Juanita’s face got hot. She looked down at the roll she was buttering.

“We’ll see,” Ryan said easily. “It hasn’t been that long, actually. We’re still getting to know each other.”

“Long enough to take a cruise together,” Nancy said, a shade of tart disapproval in her tone. But her expression softened. “Although I suppose it does offer a good opportunity to grow closer. You get to spend lots of time together doing fun things, without stress or worry.”

“Take it from me,” Dave added. “It never hurts to give your relationship a little attention, no matter how long you’ve been together.” He reached across the table and took Nancy’s hand. “It’s awfully easy to start taking each other for granted, until before you know it you’re practically strangers again.”

Nancy gave him a ruefully tender look, so intimate Juanita felt like a voyeur. “A week at sea has saved our marriage more than once.”

“And made it stronger than ever.” Dave held her gaze for a moment before turning back to Ryan and Juanita with a careless wave. “But I doubt these two want to hear about the trials and tribulations of an old married couple when they’re young and in love.”

Juanita blushed and looked away. When she glanced back, Ryan was regarding her with nearly the same rueful tenderness as had been on Nancy’s face a moment before. “Not at all,” he said. If Juanita hadn’t known better, she would have thought his words were meant for her as much as for Dave. “It’s good advice. We’d do well to listen. Who knows? If we’re lucky, maybe we’ll be cruising again thirty years from now, passing on your wisdom to another generation of youngsters.”

Nancy and Dave both chuckled, but Ryan held Juanita’s gaze for a moment before joining them. Juanita laughed too, although she didn’t feel like it. She knew Ryan was only joking. He certainly couldn’t be serious, when they’d just met that morning. But somehow the idea of them being together many years in the future didn’t seem ridiculous, or even particularly unlikely. She already felt like she knew him better than any man she’d ever dated.

Which was ridiculous. What did she know about him, after all, other than a few superficial details? Most of what he’d related about his life to Dave and Nancy was as new to Juanita as it was to them. She was only slightly better acquainted with Ryan than they were.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. She knew he was kind and generous. She knew he was willing to go out of his way to help a stranger in need. She knew he was able to provide emotional support to someone freaking out in terror. She knew she liked being in his company. She knew she was looking forward to the next few days with far more anticipation than she could possibly have imagined this morning.

The conversation wandered to lighter topics. Dave and Nancy enthusiastically described their morning snorkeling and the tequila tasting that had followed. Ryan described the shops they’d visited and the gifts they’d bought. Juanita contributed, too, only a little at first, but more as she relaxed. By the time the appetizers arrived she was almost comfortable. Her cream of mushroom soup was so delicious it banished the last of the nervousness that had been suppressing her appetite. She devoured it eagerly.

“Trade bites?” Ryan asked, holding out his spoon.

Juanita eyed the dark lump cradled in it with a mixture of fascination and disgust. “It’s a snail.”

“Well, yes, but it tastes great. Lots of butter and garlic. Come on. You’ll never know whether or not you like it unless you try it.”

“I think you must have read Green Eggs and Ham a few too many times when you were a kid.” Juanita shuddered.

Ryan grinned. “Actually, I just want to sample your soup, and it won’t be fair unless I let you have some of mine in return.”

“You’re welcome to a bite. No strings attached.” Juanita scooped up a spoonful and offered it to him.

“I insist.” Ryan stubbornly refused to take the spoon she held out, extending his insistently.

Juanita rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” She took the spoon, scowling.

Ryan accepted hers and held it poised. “Go on.”

The scent rising from the bite of escargot wasn’t that bad. In fact, it smelled yummy, rich and garlicky. The blob of snail meat swam in a pool of melted butter. Surely anything with that much butter couldn’t be completely awful. Juanita grimaced, took a deep breath, and stuck the spoon in her mouth.

Ryan sipped her soup, watching her closely. “So?”

Juanita chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “It’s not horrible,” she allowed.

He grinned. “Told you you’d like it.”

“I didn’t say I liked it. I’m not going to be ordering it for myself anytime soon. But I didn’t hate it, either. Does that satisfy you?”

“It does.” Ryan kept her spoon, using it to scoop up another snail from his plate.

She used his to finish her soup. The serving was small enough that it really wouldn’t have been a big deal to order another appetizer as well. Emil had brought Dave his two choices without comment. Dave and Nancy were sharing bites also, critiquing the dishes and comparing them to others they’d tried.

Their entrees arrived immediately after Emil whisked their appetizer plates away. Ryan had taken Dave’s advice and gotten the prime rib. Juanita had no qualms about accepting the bites of rosy, fork-tender meat he offered. She shared her delicate, flaky fish with him in return. It was all wonderful, much better than any restaurant she’d been able to afford back in Houston.

A belly full of delicious food put her in such a mellow mood she didn’t even tense up when a photographer who was working his way around the room made it to their table. He gestured at Ryan and Dave. “Come around the table so I can get shots of you with your lovely ladies.”

Both of them complied. Dave crouched behind Nancy’s chair, and the photographer took several pictures. At his prompting, they looked lovingly at each other, then leaned in to kiss, the flash highlighting their cheeks and hair as the camera caught the moment.

So Juanita was prepared when Ryan knelt by her and the photographer motioned them together. She leaned into him, trying not to show her eagerness. But unlike their previous kisses, this one was brief and impersonal. Ryan’s lips barely brushed hers before he pulled away. Even when the photographer complained that he’d missed the shot and urged them to try again, Ryan only held his mouth motionless on hers. Confused and hurt, Juanita followed his lead and remained still. She fought the desire to press into him and turn the fake kiss real until the flash finally released them.

Ryan returned to his seat without so much as a pat on her shoulder. Juanita couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong. They’d been having such a good time. What had changed?

He must not have enjoyed their earlier kisses the way she had. He was telling her that he preferred to keep their act more reserved from now on. She must have pushed too hard, demanded too much, asked for things he had no interest in giving her. He’d been too polite to make a scene, but this signal was pretty clear. He didn’t want to engage in any more of the deep, intimate exchanges that had set Juanita’s body aflame with arousal. She didn’t understand how she could have misread his response so badly, but apparently she had. From now on she would have to respect his wishes and refrain from inviting any more intimacy than their cover demanded.

Emil arrived with the dessert menus. Studying hers distracted Juanita from the pain of that thought. Again everything sounded delicious. But she wasn’t hungry anymore, so she ordered a simple fruit plate. When it came, she nibbled a piece of fresh pineapple, unable to summon much enthusiasm even though it was perfectly ripe, a lovely combination of tart and sweet.

The conversation around the table fell silent as the others dug into their desserts. Ryan scooped up a deep brown spoonful from the ramekin Emil had brought him. As soon as the bite went into his mouth, he froze. Juanita watched his eyes widen and a slow grin spread across his face. He closed his eyes and swallowed, heaving a deep sigh. “Oh, my god. That’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He jabbed his spoon back into the ramekin, heaping it full. “You’ve got to try this. It’s amazing.” He thrust the spoon at her.

“What is it?” She took the spoon, inhaling an intense aroma of chocolate.

“The menu called it Chocolate Melt-In-Your-Mouth Cake. But I think it’s a little bit of heaven in a bowl. Go on, taste it.” He watched her with breathless anticipation, as if witnessing her pleasure would be an even greater thrill than experiencing it himself.

His eagerness confused Juanita again. Could she have been wrong about how he felt? But the instant the chocolate touched her tongue, she forgot about such minor matters. He hadn’t exaggerated. If anything, he’d understated just how wonderful the intense flavor and rich, silky texture really were. She savored the way it melted on her tongue and slipped down her throat in a wave of delight. “Oh. Wow. You’re not kidding.”

He reclaimed his spoon, ate another bite, and held out the next one to her. She yearned toward it, but held herself back. “It’s yours. You don’t have to share.”

“I want to.” He waved the spoon under her nose.

The scent undermined all Juanita’s good intentions. She opened her lips and took the soft chocolate into her mouth, closing her eyes to better appreciate every exquisite moment. “Mmm.”

“I agree. Words can’t do it justice.” Juanita opened her eyes in time to watch him take his next bite. Rapture was written in the slow, lingering way his mouth closed around the spoon, the care with which he sucked every last morsel from the metal, and the deep inhale before he swallowed. She watched, mesmerized, her pulse accelerating. Was this how he looked when…

He offered her another spoonful. Juanita was far past any manners or sense of fairness that might have prompted her to refuse. She made no attempt to hide her enjoyment from him as the taste of chocolate exploded through her, filling all her senses. Let him see it on her face as clearly as she saw it on his.

He fed them alternating bites. Neither of them took their gaze off the other except to close their eyes in brief moments of rapturous appreciation. Juanita floated in a dreamy daze. Nothing existed except her and Ryan and the spoon of chocolate moving back and forth between them. Her lips opened and closed, her throat swallowed, and warm, rich pleasure suffused her body. The same pleasure shone in Ryan’s eyes. She drank it in along with her own.

At last they reached the bottom of the ramekin. Ryan scraped out the final spoonful and offered it to her. She gazed at it, nearly surfeited, but still craving one more taste. “You should eat it,” she whispered. “It’s yours.”

“I’d rather watch you,” he said, equally soft.

Juanita surrendered, making sure every last bit of her pleasure showed on her face for him to vicariously experience. He sighed, long and deep. Then he placed the spoon on the plate and sat back, wiping his mouth with his napkin. Juanita raised her own napkin to her lips, though she was certain she hadn’t allowed a single smudge of chocolate to remain there.

Beside her, Nancy said, “They have it on the menu every night.”

Juanita startled guiltily. She’d completely forgotten the other couple’s presence. Her cheeks heated. Although surely there had been nothing inappropriate for them to see. Just she and Ryan sharing a dessert. That’s all.

Dave added, “Tomorrow you’ll have to each get one, so you don’t have to share.”

Juanita nodded. Ryan cleared his throat before he spoke, but his voice was still rough. “I didn’t mind.”

“Two would have been too much.” Juanita caught his gaze and held it. “One was the perfect amount.”

He swallowed. “I agree.” He managed a smile. “I think you liked it more than I did.”

“I don’t know. You certainly seemed to be enjoying it.” Juanita’s lips curved involuntarily as his smile widened.

Dave coughed and set his napkin on the table. “Well, I think we’ll be on our way.” He glanced at his watch. “The show starts in fifteen minutes. We’ll have to hurry if we want to get good seats. Are you two going?”

“We wouldn’t miss it. But don’t wait for us.” Ryan waved at him. “We’ll finish off Carmen’s fruit before we head over.”

Nancy rose, beaming at them. “I hope we see you again tomorrow. It’s been lovely to have another couple to talk with.”

Juanita smiled back at her. “I’m sure we will.”

“See?” Ryan said. “I told you you’d like the dining room much better than the buffet.”

“You were right.” Juanita didn’t remember until after she answered that she’d never actually eaten at the buffet to have a basis for comparison. But it couldn’t possibly be better than this. She was sorry that Carmen had missed out. She’d have to take her sister out to an expensive restaurant to make it up to her, after she got home. In the warm, satisfied glow filling her, the thought didn’t provoke any fear or doubt. With Ryan’s help, she’d make it home safely. She was sure of it.

She passed Ryan a strawberry and took one for herself, waving to Dave and Nancy as they left.

Chapter 7

Ryan spent most of the show watching Juanita. From the moment it started, all her attention was focused on the stage. The evening’s theme was Motown music. Juanita swayed and bobbed her head and mouthed the words. When the audience was invited to stand and join the performers in a simple dance, she responded with enthusiasm. Ryan learned the moves, too, but beside her lithe grace he felt heavy and clumsy. She didn’t seem to care, though, dragging him back to his feet when he flagged and started to sit down.

Afterwards, they filtered out of the theater with the rest of the crowd. As Ryan led the way outside to the deck that circled the fifth floor, she kept up a running commentary of her opinions. “The girl who sang ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’ and ‘My Guy’ was by far the best of them. Although the guy who sang ‘The Tracks of My Tears’ was pretty good, too. Their duet on ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ was amazing. I think my favorite part, though, were the numbers all four guys sang together, ‘I’ll Be There’ and ‘Just My Imagination’ and ‘My Girl.’ They had great balance and blend. And all the dancing was great.” She grimaced. “The story linking them together was pretty lame, though. They’d have been better off just doing a straight revue if that was the best plot they could come up with. I actually think most of them were decent actors. I wish they’d had better material to work with.”

Ryan made noises of agreement whenever she paused for breath. It fascinated him how much depth and detail she’d perceived in what to him had been little different than listening to the oldies station on the radio.

She abruptly ran out of steam, spreading her hands in a sheepish shrug. “I must be boring you to death.”

“No, I’m interested,” he protested. “I mean, I’m not much of a music person. I like it, but I don’t know a lot about it. But when you talk about it, I understand what you’re getting at. Like, I never would have known what it was about the guys’ quartet numbers that made them so good, but you’re absolutely right; they were great.”

She glowed at the compliment. They’d reached a section of the deck away from most of the lights, and only a few other passengers were nearby. Ryan turned aside and leaned on the railing, and Juanita joined him. The night was breezy enough to be chilly. She switched sides so she was downwind of him and huddled against his side. “I should have brought a jacket. I think I saw one of mine hanging in the closet.”

“We can go back to our room and get it if you’d like.”

“No, I’m fine. Just don’t move.”

“I won’t.” Ryan hesitated, then put an arm around her shoulders. “Is this better?”

“Much. Thank you.” She pressed into him, warm and soft.

Ryan swallowed and looked out over the dark ocean. The crescent moon was sinking toward the horizon ahead of them. Its light made a path across the water, catching the foamy crests of waves in flashes of silver. Below, the ship’s wake churned and splashed, throwing up bursts of spray that occasionally flew high enough to reach them. He pulled Juanita closer and brushed a droplet from her nose. “Let me know when you’re ready to go inside.”

“I will.” But she didn’t seem inclined to flee back to warmer, dryer environs.

Both of them were quiet for a while. Ryan enjoyed watching the constantly varied motion of the waves and gazing up at the stars, so numerous and brilliant here, far from city lights. But his eyes kept straying back to Juanita’s profile. She drew him like a magnet.

He didn’t understand how he’d come to feel so strongly about her in such a short time. Part of it was undoubtedly due to the danger they’d shared and the elation of making it safely through their first obstacle. Adrenaline and endorphins made a powerful mix. But he didn’t think that was the whole explanation.

If Carmen had been the sister he’d accompanied back to the ship, the one he’d helped find the courage to brave her fears, the one standing beside him now, he wouldn’t feel this way. In the pleasant day and half they’d spent on the ship together, he’d never once had any impulse to stray beyond the bounds of friendship. They’d played their roles earnestly, holding hands and gazing at each other and sharing occasional kisses. But acting was all it had been. While that first light brush of Juanita’s lips had woken something in him that wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon.

Which created all sorts of problems he hadn’t anticipated.

Eventually Juanita started to shiver. Ryan was pretty cold himself. He squeezed her shoulders. “Let’s see what’s going on inside.”

“I was about to say the same thing.” This time Juanita led the way, hurrying down the deck to a set of double sliding doors.

When they sighed open, the strains of a piano melody floated into the night. Juanita followed it like a bloodhound on a scent. The main promenade led through an area with chairs and tables, past a coffee shop, a pub, and the entrance to a nightclub filled with dancers, to an area crowded with blue velvet couches and small round tables. In the center, a man sang and played piano, fingers dancing on the keys. A narrow bar circled the instrument, lined with stools where people sat sipping drinks and singing along.

Juanita claimed a place on an empty couch and patted the seat beside her. “Let’s listen for a while.”

“If you insist.” The man’s voice was pleasant enough, not that Ryan was much of a judge. The current tune was familiar. Ryan didn’t know enough of the words to join the singing, but Juanita added her voice eagerly.

He leaned against the soft arm of the couch and propped his feet on a convenient footstool. Juanita stayed sitting up straight for a while, but as the songs went on, an eclectic mix based on the listeners’ requests, her posture kept relaxing, until eventually she was reclining against him. He could feel her ribs flex when she took a breath and the vibration of the notes resonating in her chest.

The pianist stopped to take a drink and regale the crowd with a few funny stories. When he was ready to resume playing, he waved at one of the glass bowls where people had been depositing slips of paper on which they’d written names of songs. “Just a reminder, folks.” He extracted a slip and displayed it. “This is a suggestion.” He pulled out another, this one folded together with a dollar bill. “And this is a request.”

The crowd laughed and dug in pockets and purses for money. Juanita sighed and slumped against Ryan. The wistfulness in the sound caught at his heart. He pulled out his wallet and extracted a few bills. “Here. Request something you like.”

“I couldn’t.”

“I insist.” He pressed the money into her hand.

She still resisted. “Ryan, I can’t let you keep spending money on me. You must have already dropped a couple hundred dollars. It’s too much.”

He kept his voice quiet, speaking into her ear. “Hey, I’m enjoying a free cruise. It’s the least I can do.”

“But I’m not the one who paid for it.”

He dropped his voice even lower. “Your sister wouldn’t begrudge you a few songs. I’ve got plenty. I won’t miss it, I promise.”

She reluctantly closed her fingers around the bills. “All right. I guess.” She snagged a request slip and a golf pencil off the nearest table. With the tip poised over the paper, she chewed on her lip. Finally she glanced sheepishly at Ryan. “There’s one I’d like, but it’s corny.”

“You think he’ll care?” The piano player was hamming it up on the latest song, playing to the audience who ate up every exaggerated expression and goofy grin.

Juanita chuckled. “I guess not.” She scrawled a few words, then folded the slip and wrapped a bill around it without letting Ryan glimpse what she’d written.

His side felt cold and bereft while she went to deposit it in one of the bowls on the bar. When she settled back against him, he wrapped an arm around her. “See? That wasn’t hard.”

She shot him a scowl, then returned her attention to the performer.

After that, every time he chose a slip she tensed, then sagged when he launched into the music. At last, as the tinkling notes rang out, she straightened with an indrawn breath.

Ryan recognized the melody. “‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon’? Really?”

“Hush. I like it.” She made a peremptory shushing gesture as she sang softly along with the pianist. She knew every word of every verse, Ryan observed.

He’d never paid much attention to the lyrics of the old song before. But as he listened to the story the song told, he understood. The narrator was a man who’d served a three-year prison sentence. Now he was on his way home, uncertain if the lover he’d left behind would welcome or reject him. The yellow ribbon of the title was how she would let him know, without having to face him or speak to him, whether she wanted him to come back or to stay away.

Ryan wondered if Juanita was consciously aware of the parallels to her own situation, or if she just related to the yearning uncertainty of the emotion. She must wonder what kind of reception she’d receive when she returned to the country that had rejected her. Would she be welcomed home, or would her erstwhile friends and neighbors turn their backs and send her on her way? The man in the song couldn’t bear to look as his bus approached the destination that would determine his fate.

The song, at least, had a happy ending. Juanita’s voice choked up on the final words. Ryan pretended not to notice when she scrubbed tears from her eyes.

They stayed snuggled on the couch through another dozen songs, until the piano player brought his last set to a close. As the crowd dispersed, Ryan reluctantly urged Juanita to her feet. “Come on. Let’s head back to our room.”

She yawned and nodded. “I was half asleep.”

“I noticed.” He’d treasured the way she slumped against him in unthinking trust as her eyes drifted closed. “Your bed will be a lot more comfortable than that couch.”

“It wasn’t bad.” But she followed without protest as he headed for the elevator.

Back on the tenth floor, Ryan slid his card into the slot on the door and pushed it open. He flipped the lights on as Juanita trailed in behind him and let the door swing shut.

He bustled around, moving the items they’d left on the couch into the cabinets and rearranging the cushions. “There are enough pillows here for a whole family,” he commented as he took one from the bed. “And Carmen said it was warm enough with just the comforter when I took the blanket. Although if you get chilly, I can make do without.”

“No, take it,” she insisted, as he’d known she would. “Are you sure you don’t want the sheet, too?”

“You keep it.” Ryan busied himself tucking the blanket around the couch cushions. “I’ve been fine the past two nights; I’ll survive the rest.”

“If you’re sure.” Juanita hesitated, then took a step toward him. “Ryan, if—”

He cut her off. Whatever she’d been about to offer, he couldn’t let her. “Look, I’m going to take my Kindle and go find a place to read for a while.” He suited actions to words, picking the tablet up from the counter where he’d left it that morning. “You take your time getting settled. I’ll give you plenty long enough to get to sleep before I come back. I promise to be quiet so I won’t wake you up.” He grinned at her, trying to make it look cheerful and relaxed.

“You don’t have to—”

The smile fell from Ryan’s face. He reached out and cupped her cheek, letting a little of the dangerous desire he felt come through in the touch and his voice. “Yes, Juanita. I think I do.”

She pressed her cheek into his palm and sighed. “Okay.”

Ryan turned the caress into a pat and turned to go. As he eased the door shut, he glimpsed Juanita heading into the bathroom.

Yes, this was the right course. She’d be far more comfortable getting ready for bed in privacy than if she had to worry about him lurking around. She could relax into sleep without his presence disturbing her.

He wouldn’t have to lie awake on the couch, listening to her breathe, wondering if she was still awake. Wondering if she was thinking about him. Wondering how she would react if he left the warmth of his blanket and slipped between the cool sheets…

A deck chair near the stern gave him a good view of the stars. Eventually he was able to concentrate on the new mystery by one of his favorite authors enough to enjoy a few chapters. He read until the moon was long set and the last of the ship’s workers had finished their cleaning rounds.

Finally, when his eyes wouldn’t stay open any longer, he stumbled back to their room. He cracked the door and peered inside. Everything was dark. A long, still lump under the bedcovers emitted deep, slow breaths. He used the bathroom and brushed his teeth without turning on the lights. Then he settled on the couch, wrapped the blanket around him, and listened to Juanita breathing until he fell asleep.

Chapter 8

Juanita opened her eyes to find golden sunshine streaming into the room. The curtains still shrouded the windows that spanned the outer wall, but they’d been pushed back at the far end to expose the balcony door. From the angle and brightness of the light, she’d slept late.

She caught her breath and peeked over her shoulder at the couch. It was empty. The blanket was folded into a neat square with the pillow on top. Ryan was nowhere to be seen.

Throwing back the covers, she scrambled out of bed and hurried to the closet that held her suitcase. Ryan might return at any moment, and she wanted to be dressed first. The nightclothes Carmen had packed were a pair of loose cotton shorts and a camisole. Far too revealing to wear in front of a stranger.

That’s what Ryan still was, no matter what they’d done yesterday. Juanita’s stomach twisted, remembering. She’d been totally shameless. Had she really pushed him into kissing her far beyond what their pretense required? Had she really snuggled with him and fallen asleep on his shoulder? Had she really come within a hair of inviting him to share her bed? If he hadn’t interrupted her and fled, who knew what else she might have ended up pressuring him to do.

She was lucky he was so decent. A less scrupulous man would have taken advantage of her neediness. Now that she’d had a chance to recover her emotional equilibrium after the terror and heady release of yesterday, she could go back to acting like herself. Which did not include trying to seduce a man she’d only known for a few hours.

Juanita didn’t rush into relationships. Or anything else important. She was cautious and patient and considered all her options carefully before making a decision. Always before she’d taken a long time getting to know a man prior to any physical involvement. She’d watched and listened and meticulously weighed the evidence to judge whether he was the sort of person she could trust with her body and heart.

Which was why there had only been the three of them. Juanita didn’t consider any of them mistakes. Learning experiences, maybe. In hindsight she could see the factors that had doomed each relationship before it started. She’d added those elements to her list of signs to watch out for.

In the three years since she’d broken up with Javier, no man had passed her preliminary screening. Occasionally she’d wistfully considered loosening her standards a little, but she’d always decided to hold firm. Better to be lonely than to have a guy grow bored with you after a few months, the way Jacob had. Or to realize you had incompatible dreams for the future, like her and Davis. Or to discover you were a lower priority in a man’s life than his friends or job or sports or pretty much anything else, as had been the case with Javier.

She wasn’t going to settle for anything less than a solid, committed relationship from now on. A man would have to convince her his feelings for her were strong and their future together was important to him before she’d even think about sleeping with him. That wasn’t something that could happen in only five days. So no matter how attracted she was to Ryan, she needed to take a step back and cool things off. If he really was as decent as he seemed on the surface, he’d accept that.

Pleased with her decision, Juanita chose a pair of blue shorts and a floral-patterned knit top and took them into the bathroom. After a quick shower, she donned them. The blow dryer the cruise line provided produced only a pitifully weak stream of air, so her thick hair was still damp when she gave up and threw it into a loose ponytail. It would just have to air dry the rest of the way. No one would care if her appearance was less than polished.

There was still no sign of Ryan when she emerged. Maybe he’d gone to breakfast without her. If it weren’t for the folded blanket, she’d wonder if he’d ever made it back to the room last night.

According to the schedule, they were supposed to be in port in Belize already. She couldn’t tell if the ship was moving or still. So she headed to the balcony door and peered through the glass. Across an expanse of water was a shoreline covered with tropical vegetation and a cluster of brightly colored buildings. She pulled the door open and stepped out into the cool, breezy sunshine.

“Good morning,” Ryan’s voice said. She jumped and whirled to face him. He was lounging in one of the two chairs that flanked a small table, his feet propped on the balcony rail. He waved lazily at her. “Sorry to startle you. I figured you’d appreciate it if I stayed out here until you were up.”

Juanita fought to slow her breathing. “Um, yes. That was thoughtful of you. Thanks.”

“It’s not like it was a hardship.” Ryan made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the lovely scenery and pleasant weather. “This is a welcome contrast to the cold gray drizzle we had in Houston all last week.”

She grimaced. “I hope it warms up by the time we get back.”

“The forecast looked promising.” Ryan glanced at his watch. “We still have time to make it to breakfast in the dining room. Or we could order room service if you’d rather.”

Juanita leaned on the railing and stared out at the shore. Being with Ryan was reminding her why she’d acted so out of character yesterday. His warm voice resonated in her belly. The sunlight on his face made her want to spend a long time gazing at it. The wind teasing his hair made her want to run her fingers through it. If it wouldn’t be wildly inappropriate, she’d plop down in his lap and twine her arms around his neck.

She kept her voice light and casual. “The dining room sounds good.” Going out in public carried risks. They would need to continue their charade of being a couple. But being alone in private posed dangers as well. All in all, Juanita thought venturing out was the safer option.

“We should get going, then.” Ryan jumped to his feet. Today he was wearing denim shorts and a Rockets t-shirt. “They close in half an hour. I need to take care of something first, though. Our cabin steward will be here to clean before we get back.”

He hurried into the room. Juanita followed close behind. Ryan swept the comforter off the bed and scooped up the blanket from the couch, shaking it from its folds. Juanita helped him spread it over the bed and tuck it in, then replace the comforter. Ryan dumped all but two pillows onto the floor between the bed and the curtains, adding the one from the couch. Then he pushed the covers into rumpled disarray on both sides of the bed.

He surveyed his handiwork. “So what do you think? Does it look like two people slept there?”

Juanita didn’t trust her voice. It did. She could imagine Ryan beside her there with no trouble at all. She nodded.

“Good.” Ryan scanned the entire room, then echoed her nod. “Let’s go.”

Juanita had to stretch her legs to keep up with his long strides down the corridor. She didn’t mind, because their speed precluded conversation. They arrived in the dining room with plenty of time to spare. The hostess seated them at a long table with a number of other couples. Introductions and casual chitchat kept Ryan occupied and left Juanita free to study the menu.

She ordered tomato soup and a bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon. Ryan ordered an omelette. Everything lived up to the previous night’s standards. Juanita kept her mouth full so Ryan wouldn’t expect her to talk. Although since he was busy eating, too, it probably wasn’t necessary.

But when their plates were nearly empty he leaned forward, and she couldn’t avoid him any longer. “So what would you like to do today? Since we’re not going ashore, I figured we could enjoy some of the activities on the ship. There are a bunch of fun things up on the top deck. Then this afternoon maybe we can swim.”

“That sounds good.” Juanita had eyed the towering tangle of water slides with interest every time they’d passed. She glanced at their neighbors on either side. None of them were paying attention, so she risked dropping her voice. “If Carmen packed me a bathing suit.”

“She said she was going to.” Ryan kept his voice equally quiet. “You can check when we get back to the room.”

“All right, then. It’s a plan.”

They rode the elevator up and emerged into the bright sunlight on the Lido deck, then climbed two flights of stairs up to the recreation area. Juanita caught her breath at the sight of a ropes course circling the perimeter over their heads. “I’ve always wanted to try one of those.”

Ryan pulled a flyer out of his pocket and scanned the schedule. “Looks like they open in an hour. Want to play a round of miniature golf while we’re waiting?”

“You’re on.” Juanita claimed a club and ball from a rack near the beginning of the course. The first green was empty, although a few people were playing at some of the other holes scattered around the deck. “I’m warning you, though, I play a mean game of putt-putt.”

“That sounds like a challenge.” Ryan’s eyes lit up. “Care to make a friendly wager on the outcome?”

“I’m game.” Juanita tilted her head. “What should we bet?” She flushed and looked aside. “Not money.”

“Of course not. I was thinking something more personal.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Winner gets the bed, loser gets the couch?”

Juanita considered. “That’s good for you, but not so much for me. If I win, the status quo doesn’t change.”

“You’ve got a point.” Ryan thought for a moment. “All right. How about this? If I win, I get the bed and you get the couch. If you win, I buy you a drink tonight. I saw some that looked awfully yummy.”

“Sounds fair. You’re on.” Juanita set her ball on the starting dimple, studied the fairly simple layout of the green, lined up her club, and swung. Her ball struck the angled wall just where she’d aimed and rolled to a stop about a foot from the hole. “Your turn.”

“Not bad,” Ryan allowed. He took his time making his shot. His ball halted a bit farther from the cup than Juanita’s. Both of them made their second putts.

They stayed even through the next several holes. Juanita gained a shot when Ryan missed a long putt, but lost it when she overestimated the strength of swing needed to propel her ball up and over a hill and sent it flying out of the green. Both of them did badly on a green with a complex series of gates, taking so many shots without scoring that eventually they agreed to call it a draw and move on to the next hole. Ryan sank a perfect hole-in-one across a bridge and through a tunnel, while Juanita made one by precisely judging the angle needed to send her ball zigzagging between blue-painted “water” hazards.

Coming into the last hole, they were tied. Juanita examined the elaborate construction, frowning. It started on the small deck above, next to the ropes course entrance. She would need to hit the ball through a hole that fed into a pipe. Then it would roll down a long spiral inside a transparent plastic tube and emerge onto the lower green. Only luck would determine where it ended up.

“Want to concede?” Ryan murmured into her ear.

The touch of his breath on her neck sent shivers through Juanita’s body. She hid her reaction. “No way. Do you?”

“Never.” Ryan patted her shoulder and turned to climb the stairs to the upper portion of the green.

It was his turn to go first. He placed his ball and squinted down the green. “Don’t worry. The couch is perfectly comfortable. And they say sleeping on a hard surface is great for your back.” He drew his club back and swung.

Juanita held her breath as his ball shot toward the entrance to the pipe. Was it rolling at a tiny angle?

She crowed as it clipped the side of the hole and bounced away. “Strawberry daiquiri, here I come.”

“Don’t count your daiquiris before they’re poured.” Ryan stepped out of her way. “Let’s see you do it.”

“Better keep your eye on my ball, then.” Juanita didn’t let herself overthink. She placed her ball, sighted quickly, and gave it a solid tap. It rolled in a beautifully straight line, directly into the pipe.

She rushed to the railing and leaned over to watch it spiral down. At the bottom it shot from the pipe, crossed the green, ricocheted from the far wall, and headed directly for the hole. Juanita clutched the railing. Ryan leaned beside her to watch.

Her ball dipped into the hole and popped out, rolling a good two feet away before it stopped.

“Darn it!” Juanita stormed back to the beginning of the green and stood with her hands on her hips. “Go ahead. Take your turn.”

Ryan grinned at her. “‘Darn it?’ Really?”

“I don’t swear very often.” Juanita scowled at him. “Only for important things.”

“You don’t consider our game important?” he asked in a tone of mock injury.

Juanita assumed an attitude of equally fake primness. “Not enough to dirty my pristine mouth with foul language.”

Ryan’s eyes dropped to her mouth and lingered, as if he was considering and rejecting a number of comments. Finally he gave her a teasing grin. “You realize that now I’m going to consider it a challenge to get you to swear.” The grin widened. “I like the idea of getting that pristine mouth a little dirty.”

Juanita’s heart pounded. She ran though possible responses, from tame to outrageous. Finally she blurted, “Well, you know, if you can’t make me swear, there are other ways.”

His grin faded, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. He nodded slowly. “There are.”

Juanita couldn’t tear her gaze away. She knew he must be picturing the same sort of thing she was. The thought should have mortified her, but it didn’t. She licked her lips, imagining all the things her mouth could do to him. Not that she considered any of them dirty. Well, maybe a little…

He closed his eyes and swallowed, then turned jerkily to place his ball and poise his club. He swung without seeming to aim, but his ball rolled straight and spiraled down the pipe.

Both of them hurried to the railing. Below, Ryan’s ball emerged from the pipe, bounced off the wall, and dropped into the cup.

“Spit!” Juanita clattered down the stairs to the sound of Ryan’s laughter. She took immense care with her putt, determined not to lose. For an awful instant she was certain her ball was going to miss the hole to the right. But then it curved to the left and plopped into the cup on top of Ryan’s. “Ha! Tied you.”

Ryan stooped to retrieve both balls. “Does that mean we both win, or we both lose?”

She considered. “Neither. Nothing changes. You don’t buy me a drink, and the sleeping arrangements stay the same.”

“That’s not fair,” he protested. “I didn’t lose and you didn’t win, so why should I get the couch and you get the bed? If we both lost, we should both have to sleep on the couch.”

Juanita swallowed. She shouldn’t say it. She really shouldn’t.

She stepped close and took her ball from his fingers. “But if we both won, we should both get to sleep on the bed.”

His breathing accelerated. His gaze locked on hers. Juanita couldn’t read his expression. Was he as tempted as she was by the idea? Or was he shocked by her audacity? What made her think he had any desire to share her bed? Maybe he was desperately trying to come up with a way to refuse without offending her.

His response made it all too clear that’s exactly what he’d been doing. He gave her a crooked smile. “Or we can sleep where we did last night, and I can buy us both drinks.”

Juanita turned away. “I guess that works.” She ignored the fact that it wasn’t actually a fair solution, because he’d be paying and she’d lose nothing. As he’d insisted, he could afford it. Let him throw his money around if he wanted to. She strode over to the rack and returned her club and ball to their places.

He joined her and put his away. “The ropes course is about to open. We’d better go get in line.”

“Yeah.” Juanita’s enthusiasm had fled, but she wasn’t going to let him see that he’d upset her. She trailed behind him to the stairs and up to the ropes course entrance.

Her eagerness returned, however, as she watched the attendants strap the kids in front of them into harnesses, which they hooked to dangling cables. The cables ran along a track in the metal framework overhead, allowing the participants to move freely around the structure. Laughing and calling to each other, the group of kids started around the course, and it was Juanita’s turn.

She stepped into the harness and lifted her arms to let the attendant fasten and tighten it. When she was securely clipped to a cable, he prompted her to swing free and feel how the straps easily supported her weight. If she should fall from one of the precarious obstacles, it would catch her.

Next to her, Ryan was getting strapped into his own harness. Juanita ventured onto the first platform and waited for him. The course consisted of a series of platforms linked by two parallel tracks. Each span offered the choice of two obstacles, one easier, one harder. At each platform a connecting track allowed you to switch your cable to whichever side you preferred to attempt. She eyed the first pair of obstacles. On the right was a simple balance beam, about two inches wide. On the left was a series of platforms, each about three inches square, in a zigzag pattern. Juanita was pretty sure she could handle either with no problem.

Ryan joined her. “They said we could go around twice.”

“I’m going to do the easier side first, then try the harder ones.” Juanita dragged her cable to the start of the balance beam and set off across it. She could hang onto her cable whenever she needed to. But it was easy to balance on the narrow beam. Knowing she was safe even if she fell took away the fear that would otherwise have made crossing nearly impossible.

Ryan stepped from square to square beside her. “Want to make it a race?”

Juanita kept her voice light. “I’ve had enough competition for the moment. I’d rather take my time. This is too fun to rush through. And the view is spectacular. It would be a shame not to enjoy it.”

“Good point.” Ryan paused to scan around them.

Juanita waited until she reached the platform, then turned in a slow circle, taking it all in. Up here they were above most of the ship’s structures, so she had a nearly unimpeded view. On one side ran the coast of Belize. The cluster of buildings surrounding the port gave way to forested mountain slopes. Inland, taller peaks receded into the hazy blue distance. On the other side, the ocean stretched unbroken to the horizon. Close by, the water was vivid aquamarine. Farther out it deepened to cobalt, sprinkled with brilliant flashing highlights like a diamond’s fire. The sky arched in a dazzling blue dome, dotted with patches of fluffy white clouds. Their enormous ship was only a tiny mote in the vast panorama of land and sea.

Juanita gazed wistfully at the people crawling like ants along the streets of the town. She would have liked the opportunity to explore another country before she was trapped within the US again, probably for the rest of her life. Then she determinedly returned her attention to the ropes course. She’d never get to take a cruise again, either. She needed to enjoy every minute of it while she was here.

She crossed the next few obstacles with little difficulty. Ryan kept pace beside her. Then she came to a rope ladder stretched between platforms, with rope handrails on either side. It sagged when she stepped onto it. As she approached the middle, it swayed alarmingly from side to side. Juanita stopped, clutching the wobbly rails and fighting to stay on her feet.

“You’ve got this,” Ryan called from the next platform. “Take it one step at a time. Hold onto your cable to steady yourself if you need to.”

His interference annoyed Juanita, but his advice was good. When she pried her fingers off the rope and grabbed her cable instead, she was immediately much more stable. After that she was able to step from rung to rung, pausing each time until the rocking stopped. The ladder dipped in the middle, so she had to climb to reach the far platform, but at last, with a lurching lunge, she made it.

She stood panting. Ryan raised his hand, and she met it in a high five. “Good work,” he told her.

She nodded and moved on to the next span. From then on she avoided the rope obstacles, even if they were marked as the easier option. Most of them had a solid alternative on the other side.

Near the end of the course, she reached the most challenging pair of obstacles yet. On one side a single metal cable stretched from platform to platform. On the other, a rope drooped in a deep swag. A half-dozen vertical ropes connected to it, but they hung just as loose.

Juanita chose the tight wire. After the first few steps it wasn’t terribly difficult. It just required a steady step and a firm grip on her cable. She worked her way across little by little.

Ryan chose the rope. When Juanita reached the platform and looked back, he was halfway across. She watched him maneuver past one of the vertical ropes. Under his weight it had stretched taut, becoming a barrier. He had to get one foot beyond it, then swing his body around. The rope swayed and Ryan tilted. For a moment Juanita was sure he was going to fall off and dangle from his harness, but his torso twisted and the muscles in his arms and legs tensed, hauling him back up.

The heat that flushed through Juanita wasn’t caused only by the sun beating down on her head. Her trembling legs weren’t due entirely to fatigue. She leaned against a support post and let her eyes drink in the sight of Ryan’s lean, athletic body reaching and pulling, flexing and extending, conquering each obstruction with a combination of strength, agility, and determination.

He reached the last vertical rope. The rope beneath his feet angled sharply up to the platform, complicating the maneuver. Ryan got his leading foot around, but couldn’t get purchase on the steep surface. It slipped off, setting the whole construction wildly swinging. Juanita caught her breath. Ryan clung to his cable and managed to stay perched atop the rope until its motion settled.

When he was once again still, he glanced up at Juanita and grimaced. “Give me a hand?”

“Sure.” Juanita wrapped one arm around the support post and extended the other to Ryan.

He grabbed for it. His fingers clamped around hers, fiercely tight. He used the grip to haul himself forward. Juanita clung to him with all her strength. In a straining rush Ryan lunged up the last steep section. He teetered on the edge of the platform. Juanita dragged him forward, and he lurched into her. His arms wrapped around her and his body slumped against hers, heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

She clung to him, her pulse pounding. His heartbeat thudded against her chest. His breath rasped in her ear. She didn’t want to let go. Maybe he didn’t either, because he kept holding onto her even as his breathing slowed and his racing pulse settled.

Juanita laid her head on his chest, savoring the way he pressed against her. Beneath her cheek, the thin fabric of his t-shirt stretched over skin hot and damp from exertion. He raised a hand and smoothed back the strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail. His voice was hoarse. “Juanita…”

Then he shook his head and pulled away. She saw pain in his eyes before he masked it with a wry grin. “I mean, Carmen. Thanks for the help.”

“No problem.” She stepped back, her throat aching. “I’ll know not to try that one next time around.”

“I think once is plenty for me. I’ll take the other side next time.” He reached for his cable and slid it along the track to the far side of the platform. “I’m glad this one looks easier.”

Juanita watched as he stepped out onto a zig-zagging beam, then tackled the series of wobbly platforms on her side. They finished the course in silence, and made their second round with only a few brief comments.

By the time they returned to the beginning and the attendants unharnessed them, Juanita’s muscles were limp and trembling. All she wanted was to collapse somewhere soft and comfortable with a big glass of cold water in her hand.

She stretched her arms high overhead, then put her hands on her hips and twisted as far as she could in one direction, then the other. “That was quite a workout.”

“You’re telling me.” Ryan shook out his hands, then headed for the stairs. “I saw a drink station down this way. Let’s get something cool and find some chairs in the shade.”

Drinks acquired, they located a pair of empty deck chairs with a good view of the ocean. Juanita took a deep swig of lemonade, adjusted the back of her chair to a comfortable angle, and closed her eyes. Contented lassitude washed over her. Maybe she’d take a nap before Ryan dragged her off to get lunch.

Her name was so soft she barely heard it. “Juanita…”

She rolled to her side and opened her eyes. Ryan was gazing back at her, his expression grave. “Yes?”

He hesitated, licked his lips, swallowed. Finally he spoke, his voice strained. “I was just wondering. Do you think…”

The moment hung suspended. Juanita floated somewhere between sea and sky. Ryan’s eyes shone golden in the sunlight. She wanted to gaze into them forever.

He slammed them shut and rolled away. “Never mind.”

Juanita desperately wanted to demand he finish what he’d been about to say. But what was the point? He’d probably make up something innocent and harmless. Even if he told her the truth, it wouldn’t mean anything if she had to drag it out of him.

She closed her eyes and tried to return to the tranquil peace of the moment before, but the mood was shattered. All she could think about was the ache in Ryan’s eyes and the rawness in his voice. They haunted her until warmth and weariness overcame her, and she slept.

Chapter 9

Juanita looked so peaceful, Ryan hated to disturb her, but eventually his rumbling stomach left him no choice. He wasn’t about to leave her alone and go get lunch by himself. He ran his fingertips down her forearm and settled his hand over hers. “Hey. Wake up.”

Her lashes fluttered, and she smiled sleepily at him. “Whatcha want?”

He wanted her, with an intensity that clawed at his chest and dragged at his gut. He wanted to stretch out on top of her sun-warmed body and lose himself in her mouth. He wanted to whisper all the words that burned in his mind and sang in his heart. He wanted to intertwine his fingers with hers and run laughing into the wind. He wanted to cradle her in his arms as she slept. He wanted to stroke his hands over every inch of her silken skin. He wanted to be with her, today and tomorrow and next week and next month and next year…

He’d almost told her so. Thank god he’d come to his senses at the last minute.

Or maybe he’d just lost his nerve.

Ryan forced all that deep below the surface, keeping his expression and tone light and cheerful. “I’ve been smelling hamburgers cooking for the last hour, and I’m about to devour my own arm if I don’t get one. I’m surprised my rumbling stomach didn’t wake you up.”

She took a deep breath. “Mmm, that does smell good.” She pulled herself upright and swung her legs off the chair. “I’m starving. Let’s go.”

They followed their noses to where the hamburgers were being served, in one corner of the deck around the big central pool. It was late enough that the line had dwindled, so they swiftly acquired chargrilled patties on toasted buns, with mounds of fries on the side. A condiment bar held a generous variety of fixings. Ryan piled his burger with sliced jalapeños and tomatoes and slathered on ketchup and mustard. Juanita smothered hers in sautéed onions and mushrooms and topped it with a slice of cheese. She squirted on spicy mayonnaise and added a generous dollop to the side. “For my fries,” she explained at his questioning look.

Ryan made a face. “Mayo on fries? Sacrilege. Ketchup or nothing.” He sampled a fry as they carried their trays to a table. The crisp outside gave way to a smooth interior that melted in his mouth. “These are good enough they don’t need anything.”

She chose a place and he seated himself across from her. “What was it you said last night at dinner? You won’t know until you try it?” She dunked a fry in the pale orange sauce and popped it in her mouth. A big smile spread across her face. She dipped another and held it out toward him. “Come on. It’s got chipotle in it. You’ll love it.”

He made a face, but he couldn’t resist the temptation of her slender fingers. “Oh, well. I guess if you can try escargot, I can try this.” He leaned forward and took the fry from her hand with his mouth. The sauce had a spicy kick, much more appealing than the bland goop he’d expected. “Hey, this is really good.”

She giggled. “I told you so.” When he reached to dip one of his own fries into the pool on her plate, she slapped his hand. “Go get your own. I didn’t get enough to share.”

He pretended to sulk. “Fine. Be selfish.” He popped the bare fry into his mouth and went to fetch more of the chipotle mayonnaise, answering her smug grin with an exaggerated roll of his eyes to let her know he was joking.

They devoured their burgers in companionable silence. After he finished his last bite, Ryan reversed his position on the bench, leaning back against the table as he studied the pool and the brightly colored water slides beyond. Lots of people were enjoying them, but they weren’t as packed as they often were. “Looks like a good time to get wet, if you’re still game. With so many people off on shore excursions, the crowd is as small as it’s going to get.”

“Aren’t you supposed to wait an hour after eating before going swimming?” Juanita mopped up the remnants of her mayo with her last fry.

“That’s a myth. And besides, even if it were true, it wouldn’t apply to water slides.” Ryan rose and extended his hand. “Let’s go change.”

She stood up and took it, casting a concerned look at their trays and dirty plates. “Should we put these away?”

“They bus the tables.” Ryan nodded to where one of the cruise line’s employees was doing just that a few tables away. “They don’t want us to worry about anything but having fun.”

“I could get used to that,” Juanita remarked as she followed him.

“That’s what they’re counting on. It keeps people coming back.”

“I guess so.” Juanita looked away.

Ryan kicked himself for reminding her that this was almost certainly her last cruise as well as her first. But it was too late to take back the words now. And apologizing would only make it worse. So he just said, “Come on,” and headed for their room.

Since they were only one floor up, Ryan took the stairs instead of the elevator. Juanita followed without question or protest. He thought about taking her hand, but she was hanging back a little, so he didn’t.

When they arrived, Ryan got his swim trunks from his suitcase and went into the bathroom to change. Even through the heavy door, he heard Juanita’s exclamation. “What the heck?”

He suppressed a grin. Though she sounded pretty upset, she’d kept her words G-rated, so it couldn’t be that bad. “What’s wrong?”

“My sister is an idiot, that’s what.”

He tied the drawstring at his waist and cracked open the door. Juanita was kneeling by the closet that held her suitcase, a few flimsy bits of cloth dangling from her fingers. “Oh, that’s right, I remember now,” Ryan told her. “Carmen said she couldn’t find your bathing suit, so she packed one of hers.”

Juanita glared at the offending garment. Her voice was choked. “I can’t wear this.”

“Carmen said she was sure it would fit.” Ryan closed the bathroom door and moved to stand beside her.

“It’s not that. We’re the same size. But I wear one-piece suits. Carmen likes bikinis.”

Ryan stared down at the bright floral-printed swimsuit. It wasn’t the skimpiest of its kind he’d seen, but clearly it wouldn’t cover much but the essentials. His eyes flicked to Juanita, tracing her curves. Damn, he wanted to see her in it. Although, to be strictly truthful, what he really wanted to see were the parts of her not in it.

He swallowed. He needed to handle this carefully. If Juanita got the slightest hint of what he was thinking, she’d never agree to put on the suit. And then she wouldn’t get to enjoy the water slides, which she was clearly eager to try. He’d hate for her to miss out. “It looks fine to me. I saw plenty of women in two-piece suits out there.”

“I’m sure you noticed every one.” Her tone was tart, but the undertone was teasing, not accusing.

Ryan spread his hands and quirked his eyebrows, then returned to a matter-of-fact expression. “You can always wear a t-shirt over it if you want.”

Her tense shoulders relaxed. “I think I will. It will keep me from getting sunburned, too.” Her smile made up for any disappointment Ryan might have felt.

He moved out of her way, and she took the swimsuit into the bathroom. Ryan retrieved a can of sunscreen from his suitcase and went out onto the balcony to spray it on his chest and arms. When Juanita joined him, he handed the bottle to her, careful to keep his gaze away from where the lower edge of her t-shirt revealed a hint of bright fabric and her long, shapely legs. “Could you get my back?”

“Sure.” Ryan turned around, closing his eyes as the cool mist hit his shoulders. It traveled back and forth until it reached the waistband of his trunks. “Mind if I use this, too?” Juanita asked.

“Go ahead. I brought plenty. Give me a squirt for my face first, though.” He held out a palm, and she sprayed a generous portion there.

Ryan rubbed it over his cheeks, nose, and forehead. He kept his face averted as Juanita extended her arms one at a time to spray them, then moved on to her legs, but he watched out of the corner of his eyes.

She pulled up the hem of her t-shirt, revealing the smooth brown curve of her belly rising above the narrow band circling her hips, her navel a neat dimple in the center. The wet sunscreen made her skin gleam for a moment before it dried. Ryan knew he shouldn’t be watching, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away. She dropped the hem and pulled the neckline down to one side, exposing a bare shoulder crossed by a spaghetti strap. She sprayed sunscreen there and across her chest and the soft upper curves of her breasts. Then she pulled down the other side to reach the skin there.

She cleared her throat, giving him an excuse to turn back to her, trying desperately to keep his face pleasantly neutral. She handed him the bottle and turned around. “Would you get my back?” she asked over her shoulder. “I don’t trust the thin fabric of this shirt to keep all the sun out.”

“Sure,” Ryan managed as she tugged her shirt up, exposing a breathtaking expanse of skin. He applied the sunscreen meticulously. The last thing he wanted was for her to suffer the hot pain of a sunburn, or for ultraviolet rays to damage the perfection of her body.

“Here, too, please.” Juanita lifted her thick, wavy ponytail aside. Ryan sprayed the nape of her neck, trying not to imagine what it would feel like to smooth his hand along the graceful column, or bend to stroke it with his lips and tongue. He’d get a mouthful of bitter sunscreen if he tried. It would serve him right.

“Thanks.” Juanita dropped her hair. She hesitated, then turned toward him. “Could you get my face, too? If you don’t mind.”

Ryan swallowed. “Of course.” He sprayed the cool liquid onto his fingers and spread it across her cheeks, then moved to her forehead. He paid particular attention to thoroughly covering the bridge of her nose and the tops of her ears. Her eyes were closed and her face tilted trustingly up to his ministrations. Her skin was soft under his fingers, the delicate muscles beneath firm and springy. He wanted to keep caressing her face for hours. She made no move to open her eyes or pull away, even when he went back over the areas he’d already covered with a second coat. Finally, when he could no longer maintain the pretense that he was touching her for any reason except his own pleasure, he dropped his hands and stepped back. His voice sounded hollow and distant in his ears. “There you go.”

She sighed and opened her eyes. They met his for a breathless instant. Then she grinned and turned to the door. “Let’s go swim.”

“Grab a towel.” Ryan picked up one of the big blue beach towels the cruise line provided.

Juanita took the other and slung it over her shoulder. “Do they mind if we’re barefoot?”

Ryan stole a glance at her long, graceful toes. “I don’t think so.”

She nodded and left her sandals on the floor. Ryan led her out of the room, down the hall, and up onto the deck.

Juanita passed him as they emerged into the sunlight, making a beeline for the slides. “I’m trying the red one first.” The long red tube started at the highest point of the tangle, looping in giant corkscrew turns all the way to the bottom. “Which do you want to try?”

“I don’t care. Whichever has the shortest line.” There were two other slides besides the red one, one orange, one yellow. All three shone bright in the tropical sun, vivid and gaudy.

She swatted him lightly on the arm. “Stand in line with me so I don’t get bored.”

“If you insist.” He would have, even if she hadn’t asked. He wasn’t about to miss a single instant in her company if he didn’t have to.

They rode an elevator up to the level where the entrance to the slides was located, then climbed several flights of steps to reach the top of the red slide. The line wasn’t bad, only about a dozen people long. Most of them were kids and teenagers, but a few other adults waited as well. Not that Juanita seemed to care, and Ryan didn’t if she didn’t. She was as excited as any of the children. He loved how much happier she seemed today than yesterday. Now that her stress and fear had receded, the real Juanita was free to emerge. She drew Ryan even more powerfully than the terrified woman in need of his protection had.

When they reached the tiny platform, Juanita gripped the rail and swiveled to take in the view. “I think we’re even higher than we were on the ropes course.”

Ryan pointed to the far end of the ship, where part of the course was visible. “By at least two stories.”

She nodded, then turned to gaze inland at Belize’s green hills. “It would have been nice if we could have gotten off the ship.” She turned resolutely back to watch the girl in front of her seat herself in the shallow plastic trough at the head of the slide. “But I’m having a great time here.”

An idea occurred to Ryan. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t want her to get her hopes up and then be disappointed. But he silently planned what he would do, determined to offer her what she wanted if it was possible.

The girl pushed herself forward and vanished into the tube. At the attendant’s signal, Juanita climbed into the trough and sat down with a splash. She gripped the metal handles and glanced over her shoulder at Ryan. “I’ll wait for you at the bottom.”

“I’ll be right behind you,” Ryan promised. The attendant nodded to Juanita. She took a deep breath, then propelled her body into the tube. She slid through the glowing red tunnel, around the first curve and out of sight.

Ryan seated himself in the cold water and waited for the attendant to release him. Finally the signal came. He pulled against the handles. The water flowed beneath him. The plastic slithered under his thighs, smooth and slippery. The air inside the tube was warm, the light ruby. The slope steepened and the current accelerated. The tube curved, sending him sliding up the round wall. It cut back, and the water swished to the other side, taking him with it. Faster and faster he slid. The tube bent to the left and kept going. Centrifugal force pushed both him and the water high to the right. Ryan laughed with the thrill of mounting speed. After an endless time twisting left, the tube abruptly cut back right, flinging him hard up the far side, water sloshing and spraying. He flailed to catch his balance as the tube straightened again. It leveled out, and the top opened to the blue sky. Ryan coasted to a stop in the shallow pool at the slide’s base.

Juanita was there, extending a hand to help him scramble to his feet. The soaked t-shirt was plastered to her body. He drank in the sight. Her eyes were alight and her steps quick as she dragged him back toward the stairs. “Now the orange one.”

They rode each of the three slides at least a dozen times. Once they took a break to squirt each other with water cannons. Later they directed streams from hoses into a giant bucket until it tipped over and dumped its contents on the delightedly screaming children below. Juanita decided the yellow slide was her favorite, so they rode that one another half-dozen times in a row.

Ryan would have happily followed her around the water playground for hours more, but eventually the attendants blew whistles and directed everyone to the exits. Juanita sighed, but obediently shuffled through the gate. She was shivering, Ryan noticed. He was cold, too. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, no longer offsetting the chill of the wind on their wet bodies.

He motioned her toward a different set of stairs. “The adults-only area is up here. They’ve got hot tubs.”

“I don’t mind the kids,” she protested. “There are hot tubs down on the fifth-floor deck, too.”

“I don’t either, but these are closer. If they’re too crowded we’ll go down there.”

Ryan chose the hot tub on the western side of the ship. It held three other couples, but there was plenty of room left. He climbed up, then descended the steps into the steaming water. The heat soaked into his body, easing his shivers and melting away tension. He turned to offer Juanita his hand, enjoying her sigh of appreciation as the warmth enveloped her. He led her to an empty spot on the bench that encircled the oval tub.

The other couples introduced themselves, and they chatted for a while. All of them were friendly and welcoming, as everyone he’d met so far on the cruise had been. Two of the couples had spent the morning on shore excursions and kept the rest of them entertained with detailed descriptions. Ryan particularly enjoyed the second couple’s account of ziplining through the jungle treetops and tubing through a series of caves. It sounded like the sort of thing Juanita would love. Once glance at the longing fascination on her face told him he was right.

He would follow through on his plan, he silently promised her. And he wouldn’t stop there. Maybe it would never be safe for her to leave the US again, but America was a big country, filled with adventures and history and natural beauty enough to last a lifetime. He’d make sure she got the opportunity to experience as much of it as he could manage.

He was picturing climbing down into the Grand Canyon with her—his parents had taken him there once as a child, but he’d never been back—when his thoughts slammed to a halt against the hard wall of reality. They weren’t going to be doing anything together after they got off the ship. She’d want to put this whole horrible episode behind her and get on with her life as best she could. She wouldn’t want Ryan around as a constant reminder of the worst days of her life. She’d bid him goodbye and never look back.

Beside him, Juanita made an annoyed sound. He glanced over to see her struggling with her t-shirt, which had trapped the bubbles rising from the hot tub’s jets and ballooned around her. Ryan pinched his lips together to keep from laughing as it defeated all her efforts, popping back up as soon as she shoved it down, rapidly refilling every time she released a big pocket of air.

She glared at him as she tucked the edges under her. “It isn’t funny,” she hissed.

He solemnly shook his head, although he couldn’t stop the corners of his mouth turning up.

Juanita glanced at the other couples, who were politely ignoring her struggles, then back at Ryan. She wrinkled her nose. “Oh, forget it,” she muttered. With one swift motion she jerked the t-shirt off over her head, then wadded it up and shoved it onto the ledge behind their heads. “Much better.” She sighed and settled back into the water, turning a little to lean against Ryan.

He reflexively put his arm around her, trying desperately not to stare. But her position gave him an unobstructed view of the valley between her breasts and the smooth curves on either side. They weren’t especially large, but they were perfectly proportioned to her petite frame, and their graceful shape drew Ryan’s eyes no matter how hard he tried to drag them away.

Her bare skin pressed against his arm and side. His hand cupped her smooth shoulder. Strands escaping from her wet ponytail tickled his neck. Every touch set his body humming in response.

He did his best to conceal his reaction, but from the knowing glances the other couples kept giving them, he wasn’t very successful. The women looked indulgent. The men looked envious. Every time one of them let his eyes wander in Juanita’s direction, Ryan wanted to pull the concealing t-shirt back over her body. Or else punch the offender in the stomach. Or maybe throw him out of the hot tub with a growled warning to leave Juanita alone.

The other men weren’t the ones who posed a danger to her, though. Their glances were brief and only casually admiring. Ryan was who Juanita needed to beware. If she gave him the slightest encouragement he would be all over her. He wasn’t sure he could restrain himself even if she didn’t.

For a while he distracted himself by watching the glowing pinks and oranges the setting sun flung across the sky. Juanita lifted her face, drinking the beauty in. The other couples made appreciative comments, pointing out particularly vivid places and favorably comparing the display to the much less impressive one the evening before.

The splendor faded into soft gray twilight. One couple excused themselves and left. The other two lingered a while longer, but eventually they, too, bid Ryan and Juanita goodnight and climbed out of the tub. The lounge chairs scattered around the deck emptied as people went to get ready for the early seating in the dining room. The few who remained must be assigned to the late seating, like Ryan and Juanita were. But there weren’t many of them, and their numbers dwindled the darker it got.

The hot tub lights gave the water a soft aqua glow. Juanita snuggled against Ryan. “This is nice, having it to ourselves. I hope nobody shows up for a while.”

“I hope not,” Ryan managed to echo. She’d turned so one breast pressed into his side and her face angled up toward him. Her eyes were soft and dreamy. The tip of her tongue peeked out and ran along her upper lip.

Ryan yanked his gaze away. He had to come up with something to break the mood, or he’d lose all control. “How did it happen? Your arrest, I mean. Were you at home, or at work, or…”

Her eyes widened and she swallowed. The way she shrank into herself made Ryan feel like the world’s biggest jerk. But she didn’t pull away, and her gaze didn’t leave his face.

After a moment she answered, her voice small and nearly emotionless. “I was in my apartment, eating breakfast and checking my email, just like I did every morning. I didn’t have any warning at all. I mean, I’d heard about DACA being canceled, of course, but it had been a few weeks and nothing had come of it, so I thought it was going to be okay.” She reached for Ryan’s hand and gripped it hard. “They grabbed more than three hundred of us that day. Mostly people who’d signed up as soon as the program went into effect. Over the next few weeks they got hundreds more. Apparently people are getting smart and going into hiding, but they keep finding them and making more arrests.”

Ryan wanted to say something comforting, but there was nothing that wouldn’t sound shallow and feeble next to the depth of pain in her words. And she only paused for an instant before she resumed talking, the story pouring out of her in that quiet, impassive voice. “Someone banged on the door, and a voice shouted ‘Police!’ I thought there must be some sort of emergency, a fire or a burglary or an attack, and they’d come to help. So I opened the door.” She shuddered. “A bunch of big men in dark uniforms were there. One of them pointed a gun at me and shouted, ‘Don’t move.” The others pushed past me and started searching my apartment. The one in charge shoved an envelope into my hands and said something about a summons to a hearing. But I was too terrified to understand what he meant. Or to move, or to speak. I couldn’t do anything but stare at the gun, at the big dark hole where the bullet was going to come out. I remember trying to think of a prayer to say, Our Father or Hail Mary or something solemn like that. But the only one I could remember was, ‘Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I should die before I wake—’” Her voice broke, and she buried her face in Ryan’s chest.

He held her while she trembled. He couldn’t tell whether or not she was crying, because any tears mixed with the warm water. But he knew she should be, and he knew she needed him to support her.

And to listen to the rest of her story, because she started talking again, her face still pressed into his body. “It seemed like hours that we stood there, although I guess it must only have been a few minutes. Then the rest of the men came back with the can of pepper spray I kept beside my bed and the one from my purse. They told me they were taking me to detention and put handcuffs on me. They weren’t tight enough to hurt, but the metal was cold. One of the men grabbed my arm and hustled me out the door. The gun kept pointing at me the whole time. They took me down the stairs and along the sidewalk to the parking lot where their cars were. The lights were on, spinning around, red and white, so bright they hurt my eyes. They pushed me into the back seat of one of the cars and slammed the door.”

She paused. Ryan thought she might be finished, but she resumed. “We drove for a long time. When we stopped they made me get out of the car and took me into a concrete building. They put me in a cell with a cot and a toilet. The door had bars; they closed and locked it. Nobody told me why I was there. Although I knew, of course. I was illegal. I didn’t belong in America. Nobody wanted me.”

I want you, Ryan longed to say, but he bit back the words. This wasn’t about him, it was about Juanita. About the trauma she’d suffered. He would get this right if it killed him. He would open his heart and take in the experiences she was trusting him with. He would sit here like a rock and endure all the anguish she was pouring into him, strong and solid the way she needed him to be. He would absorb her distress without letting her see how much it hurt him to see her in pain.

Her breath rose and fell a few times before she continued. “After a few hours they put me in a van and drove me to a courthouse. They took me to a big courtroom and sat me down with a bunch of other people, but they wouldn’t let us talk to each other. A judge came out and told us that the government had proof we weren’t citizens or legal residents, that we’d admitted it when we filed our DACA applications. He asked us if we had any evidence to the contrary. One by one they gave us a chance to answer. When it was my turn, there was nothing I could say. It was true. To qualify for DACA, I had to confirm that I had no legal status. The instructions on the application said they wouldn’t turn the information over to Immigration, but they also said that policy could change at any time. It was the same for all the others. The judge told us he was issuing orders for us to be removed from the United States, effective immediately.”

She sucked in a deep breath. “They split us up according to where our families had come from. Most of the others from Mexico came from towns near the border, but a few of us were from farther south. They took us to the airport and put us on a plane. After we landed, they put us in a van and drove us into the city, then let us out and drove away. I had my wallet with a little cash and my credit card, and my phone, and the clothes I was wearing when they arrested me, but that was all. We talked to people on the street and got directions to a shelter that helped people who’d been deported. I stayed there for a few weeks. The others eventually found relatives who were willing to take them in, but neither Mom or Dad had anyone left in Mexico I could contact.

“Mom mailed me my birth certificate, which let me get an ID and a work permit. I found a job at a souvenir shop, because I could speak English to the tourists. I couldn’t speak much Spanish. Mom and Dad started learning English as soon as they came to the United States. I never remember them speaking anything else. Even when I got older and asked them to teach me Spanish, they refused. They wanted me and Carmen to be Americans, not Mexicans. It was fine for her. But nothing they could do could change where I was born. It didn’t matter how much I wanted to be an American or how much I felt like one or acted like one. I wasn’t.”

She was breathing easier now. Ryan prepared to release her if she pulled away, but she didn’t. She moved a hand to his chest and stirred his hair with her fingers. Her voice firmed. “So I decided to become a Mexican. I memorized words and talked to people, no matter how badly I mangled the grammar. I listened when they corrected me and tried to figure out the rules. I worked hard to sell stuff to the tourists, even though most of what we carried was crappy. I bought the cheapest TV I could find and watched it for hours, trying to understand what they were saying. I got my phone set up with a local provider and changed all the settings to Spanish. It was hard, but I was doing it. I would have been okay.”

She looked up at Ryan, half expectant, half defiant. He cleared his throat. “Of course you would have.”

She nodded decisively. But then she looked down again. “Then last week Carmen called and told me about Mom’s test results. The doctors always said there was a chance her cancer would come back. It was already Stage 4 when they caught it the first time. Now it’s in her bones. Apparently surgery and chemo won’t do any good, so they’re not going to bother. I’m glad. Mom was so sick and miserable last time. She said it was worth it to have more time with us. And she’s had nine good years, so I guess she’s not sorry. But I know she’d rather enjoy whatever time she’s got left instead of going through that again.”

Ryan nodded. He wanted to say something about his grandfather’s treatment for colon cancer, but he held his tongue. It didn’t compare. Ryan had only been peripherally involved, mostly getting reports from his mother. And Granddaddy Greene was still going strong twelve years later.

Juanita sighed and settled more firmly against him. “Thank you for listening. I haven’t had anyone I could talk to about all this. I mean, there was Carmen, but talking on the phone isn’t the same, you know? And I didn’t want to burden her or Mom with my problems when there was nothing they could do about them.”

Ryan’s voice roughened despite all his efforts. “I hope it helped. Any time you need to talk more, I’m here. Although I’ll try not to ask nosy questions in the future.”

She shrugged, her body moving against his. “I don’t mind. I wanted you to know. And it did help. A lot. I feel much better now.” She laid her head on his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

Ryan closed his arms around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. The hot tub bubbled gently around them. Overhead the stars were coming out. Other people moved around the deck, their soft voices occasionally reaching Ryan, but none of them entered the tub. Ryan was starting to get hungry, but he ignored it. Eventually they’d have to return to their room and get ready for supper, but not yet. He never wanted this moment to end. He would be perfectly happy if he could sit here holding Juanita for all eternity.

Maybe she felt something similar, because she didn’t move for a long time. Finally, though, she pulled back a little, straightening. Ryan let her go, wistful but content. He was looking forward to sharing another luxurious dinner and watching her reactions to tonight’s show. Maybe afterwards they’d check out the comedian’s show and see if he was any—

Juanita stroked his cheek. Her dark eyes met his, her expression serious and intent. For a long moment they gazed at each other. Then Juanita leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his.

Ryan couldn’t think, only react. He opened his mouth to Juanita’s insistent demands, and her tongue tangled with his. One of her hands cupped the back of his neck and drew him tighter to her. The other kneaded his shoulder and roamed his chest. His hands slid over the bare skin of her back, reaching up to caress her neck and shoulders and down to wander her waist and hips.

Even in his haze of pleasure and desire, though, he stopped when his fingers touched the fabric of her suit. Much as he wanted to feel her firm buttocks cupped in his palms, he wasn’t going to cross that line. Instead he slid his hands back up the long, sleek sweep of her body. She moaned and plastered herself tighter to him, pressing her breasts into his chest and wrapping a leg over his thigh. Her mouth devoured him and her hands stroked him, igniting flames wherever they traveled.

After a long time, but long before Ryan was ready, Juanita’s hands slowed and her mouth softened. She lingered for a while, but eventually drew back, letting her hands trail lightly across his chest before pulling them away. She didn’t say anything, just lay back against the side of the tub and closed her eyes, panting.

Ryan slid deeper into the water, letting its heat close over his head before surfacing and sluicing the water from his face with his hands. He was achingly erect, the tented fabric of his trunks making it embarrassingly obvious. But for all her wanton abandon, Juanita hadn’t crossed the line, either. She’d kept her hands north of his waistband and her body carefully to the side. She’d rubbed her breasts against him but hadn’t guided his hands to them. So it was pretty clear where her boundaries lay. She wanted to make out, but that was all. For now, at least.

Ryan cut that thought short. He had no reason to think her desires would change. No right to hope they would, and no cause to fear they might. She might not even want to repeat what they’d just done. This might have been only a release of the emotions aroused by voicing her traumatic experiences. Now that she’d gotten them out of her system, she might be embarrassed or even ashamed by her actions.

He needed to accept what she’d given him for the incredible experience it had been, without giving her any hint he expected or wanted more. He needed to be content with what they’d enjoyed and not poison their relationship with longing for anything else. He valued her trust too much for that. Her company and conversation were far too precious to risk losing because of sexual awkwardness.

So he’d better concentrate on cooling his body’s over-enthusiasm if he wanted to be able to get out of the water without embarrassing both of them as well as everyone else in the vicinity. He turned his thoughts to the least sexy subject he could think of, the mundane details of the projects that would demand his attention when he returned to the office.

By the time she opened her eyes and turned to him with a smile that was both tender and rueful, his erection had subsided enough that it was safe to grin and offer her a hand. “We’d better head to our room if we want to make it to supper on time.”

“Yeah. I need to wash the chlorine out of my hair or it will turn green.” Juanita accepted his hand and let him draw her to her feet, then released it to steady herself on the handrails as she climbed the steps out of the hot tub. Ryan averted his eyes from her smoothly swaying bikini-clad backside before all his hard work was undone. He’d better turn the water in his shower all the way to cold so he wouldn’t have to be constantly adjusting his trousers all evening.

They wrapped themselves in their towels and headed for the elevators. Juanita slipped her hand into his. But she kept a little distance between them, even when they were alone in the elevator, and spoke only of their plans for the rest of the evening. Ryan followed her lead and didn’t mention what had happened. By the time they reached their room and he waited on the balcony while Juanita showered, he could almost believe he’d imagined the whole thing.

Chapter 10

What the hell had come over her?

Juanita tried to keep her attention on the comedian, who was pretty funny, if a little too raunchy for her tastes. But her thoughts kept drifting back to those amazing minutes in Ryan’s arms. She’d floated, buoyed up by the warm, bubbly water, his skin slick beneath her hands and his body hard against hers, his mouth and lips and tongue doing magical things to her insides with every movement, his roaming hands driving her to dizzying heights of pleasure and need.

She’d known he was just as aroused as she was. She’d longed to slide her hand inside his swim trunks and stroke the long, hard shaft of his penis. She’d wanted his hands to cup her breasts and his thumbs to tease her nipples. She’d ached to straddle him and take him into herself. She would never have gone that far in public, of course. But she might have let her fingers wander to intimate places, safely concealed by the foamy water.

But he’d refrained from moving beyond a certain point, so she had, too. She didn’t think he’d refuse her if she asked for sex, but she didn’t want to push him into it, either. She didn’t want his indulgence. She didn’t want him to agree just to make her happy, against his own inclinations. She certainly didn’t want to rope him into any unwanted entanglement after the cruise was over.

But even though she’d never done such a thing before, she’d be willing to consider a short fling, as long as it was mutual. The next few days and nights could be a lovely idyll of shared pleasure if he felt even half of what she did.

But she wasn’t sure he did. He’d responded to her advance, but what guy wouldn’t if a girl started making out with him? That didn’t mean he would have ever looked at her twice if they hadn’t been thrown together by her predicament. Sure, he was kind and generous and had listened with admirable patience while she dumped her load of baggage in his lap, but that didn’t mean he was attracted to her. Maybe the kisses that had sent unprecedented heat blazing through her had been nothing special to him. Maybe that’s how every woman reacted to his touch. Maybe to him she seemed pitiful and needy. If he did consent to give her what she longed for, maybe it would only be out of compassion.

Maybe after a few more kisses like that, she wouldn’t care.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Juanita joined in, although she’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard the punchline. From the way Ryan was chuckling, he was enjoying the show. She’d stay as long as he was having a good time, although she’d have preferred to go back to the piano bar.

Dinner had been as wonderful as the first night. Nancy and Dave had regaled them with tales of their day in Belize. She liked the older couple a lot. They were lucky to have gotten them as dinner partners. Juanita had ordered a chilled strawberry soup for her appetizer. It had been odd but yummy. She and Ryan had traded bites of her chicken and his pasta, both of which were delicious. For dessert they’d each ordered their own melt-in-your-mouth cake. She’d missed sharing with him, but she’d enjoyed having a full portion to herself.

The show afterward had been fine, but she hadn’t enjoyed it as much as the first. The theme was country music, which had never been her favorite, so she wasn’t familiar with most of the songs. When Ryan had suggested they sample the late-night comedy show, she’d willingly agreed. Undoubtedly she would enjoy it if she quit letting her thoughts wander and paid attention.

Another gale of laughter told her she’d missed another joke. Ryan glanced at her, his grin fading as he realized she wasn’t laughing. He leaned close. “Want to go somewhere else?” he asked in an undertone as the comedian started talking again.

She shrugged. “I’m fine.”

He studied her for a minute, frowning, then turned back to the front. But his brow stayed creased, until it abruptly smoothed out. He leaned over and reached for a menu lying on the next table. “I almost forgot,” he murmured in her ear. “I owe you a drink. And one for me, too.” He flipped open the menu and displayed the list of choices to her, holding it so he could scan them as well.

Juanita’s mouth watered as she read the enticing descriptions. Finally she settled on a frozen concoction of rum and vodka and about seven different fruit juices. Ryan chose something similar. He rose and made his way down the aisle and across the room to the bar to place their order.

Juanita took the opportunity to focus on the comedian. His jokes were pretty good when she listened to them. She was giggling, her face hot, at a hilarious but particularly off-color comment when Ryan returned, bearing a tall glass in each hand.

He raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised you knew what that one meant.”

“Just because I choose not to use the words myself doesn’t mean I don’t understand them.” Juanita accepted her drink and sipped it. The tart, icy liquid cooled her mouth and slid down her throat. “Mmm.” A few swallows later the alcohol kicked in, sending warmth radiating through her body. “This is great.”

“Mine, too.” Ryan’s drink was an improbable shade of blue, with creamy white streaks swirled through it and a big dollop of whipped cream on top. He slurped a generous mouthful through the straw and sighed in appreciation.

“Let me taste.” Juanita leaned over to take a drink, offering Ryan hers in exchange. His had a nice coconut flavor, but overall she preferred hers. “Not bad, but I like mine better.”

“And I prefer mine, so it looks like we both chose well.” Ryan clinked his glass against hers. “Here’s to a great game of miniature golf.”

She drank, looking over her glass at him. After she lowered it, she said, “How about a rematch tomorrow?”

“I’m game.” He took another long slurp, studying her thoughtfully. Just when she was uneasily wondering what he was thinking, he glanced away. “Although there’s something I want to do first thing in the morning. Why don’t you take the opportunity to sleep late and order room service for breakfast while I take care of it? I’ll be back in time for another game before lunch.”

“Um, all right, I guess.” What could he possibly need to do, and why wasn’t he telling her? Juanita tried to keep her voice casual. “You’re not going to let me know what this mysterious errand is?”

“I’ll tell you afterward. Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal.” He made a dismissive gesture and returned his attention to the comedian.

Of course, that only made Juanita more curious, but after wracking her brain for several minutes trying to come up with possibilities, she gave up. She’d just have to wait until he was ready to reveal the secret.

The show wound to a close. The comedian had saved his best jokes for last, so laughter and applause swept the room as he bowed and left the stage. Juanita and Ryan joined the crowd spilling out of the club.

They passed the piano bar, but it was letting out, too. Juanita still had a pleasant buzz from her drink. She felt light and floaty and warm, sleepy but not yet ready for bed. She tugged Ryan through the door onto the deck. The ship had been underway for several hours. The coast of Central America was visible on the western horizon, a jagged line of mountains a shade darker than the moonlit sky. Far across the water, golden lights revealed the tiny shape of another cruise ship. Stars blazed overhead, some of them washed out by the glare of the bright half-moon, but the rest strewn in thick irregular patches across the sky.

Juanita pointed as they strolled along the deck. “There’s Orion.” She laughed self-consciously. “That and the Big Dipper are the only constellations I know how to find.” She scanned the sky. “I don’t see the Dipper now, though.”

“It’s on the other side of the ship, to the north. We can go around and look for it if you want. But let me show you something first.” Ryan led her to the rail, out of the path of the handful of other passengers walking by. He stood behind her and pointed up. “See Orion’s belt? Follow it down to the left and keep going until you get to a very bright star.”

She tracked his finger along the path he’d described. “I see it. It’s hard to miss. Is it a planet?”

“No, that’s Sirius. The brightest star in the sky. It’s part of Canis Major, the big dog. Now look up from it and farther to the left, to another star that’s nearly as bright.”

She found that one, too. His voice was soft in her ear. “That’s Procyon, in Canis Minor, the little dog. Orion is a hunter, with his dogs at his heels. Now we’re going to find his prey. Look at the top two stars in Orion, his shoulders, and follow the line they make to the right, about the same distance as Procyon is to the other side. See that V of stars?”

They were dimmer, but Juanita picked them out. “There?”

“That’s right. That’s the face of Taurus, the bull. If you follow the lines of the V farther out, you’ll see the tips of his horns.”

She didn’t spot them until she extended her search. She giggled. “He’s a longhorn.”

Ryan shrugged, the motion rubbing his chest against her back. “Not an Aggie’s favorite constellation. Let’s just hope Orion catches him someday.” His voice took on a wary edge. “Um, you didn’t go to UT by any chance, did you?”

“No way! I’m a University of Houston Cougar, and I got my master’s at TWU. Are you an Aggie, then?”

“Gig ‘em!” He gave her a thumbs-up sign. “And my master’s is from Rice.” He wrapped his arms around her and linked his thumbs together, waving his spread fingers to indicate an owl’s wings.

She hooked her fingers into a cougar’s claw and playfully batted at him. He caught her hand and rubbed it between his. She leaned into him, savoring the firm touch of his massaging fingers and the warm, solid length of him along her back.

After a moment he cleared his throat and dropped her hand, once again pointing upward. “Now look farther past Taurus along the same line. See that fuzzy little cluster?” His arm stretched past her ear.

She pressed the side of her face into it as she looked where he indicated. The dim dot sparkled with brighter points. “I see it.”

His arm came down and folded across her chest, above her breasts. His other arm wrapped her waist. “Those are the Pleiades. The Seven Sisters. Actually it’s a globular cluster made up of hundreds of stars. You can see a lot more through a telescope, or even binoculars.”

Juanita nodded, then dropped her head back against his chest, surveying all the constellations he’d shown her. “The Seven Sisters, huh? So is Orion really chasing the bull, or is he actually after the girls?”

His laugh vibrated from his body into hers. “That’s a good question. From the hunters I know, probably both. He’s going to host a big barbecue and invite all the sisters so he can impress them with his brisket and ribs.”

“Mmm. Sounds delicious.” She wanted to keep him talking so she could keep feeling his voice resonate in his chest. “You’re not a hunter?”

“No, I prefer to buy my meat at the grocery store. I do smoke a mean brisket, though.”

She twisted to look at him. “Have you got one of those big barbecue pits?”

“A small one. I fire it up two or three times a year. It holds a dozen or so briskets at a time, so my freezer is always full. I do a batch every summer to sell as a fundraiser for my old Boy Scout troop.”

“You were a Boy Scout?” She swiveled the rest of the way around and studied his moonlit face. Now that she considered it, he did seem the type.

“An Eagle Scout, actually.” The abashed pride on his face and in his voice made her stomach do a funny little flip.

“I should have guessed.” She dropped her voice, though no one was near. “That’s why you were willing to help when Carmen asked.”

He shrugged. “‘To help other people at all times’ is part of the oath. I try to do what I can.”

She reached up and twined her arms around his neck. “I’m very glad you did.”

He leaned forward until his forehead touched hers. “So am I.”

She gazed into his dark eyes. “Not just because I want to go home and you can help me do that. I’m glad I got the chance to meet you. To get to know you. To…” She gulped, summoning all her courage. “To kiss you,” she whispered.

His voice was husky. “Me, too.”

He turned his head, she tilted hers, and their mouths met. This kiss was slower and more deliberate than the one in the hot tub, but somehow more intense. Ryan’s tongue felt at home in her mouth, as right and familiar as a part of her own body, like a piece of herself that had gone momentarily missing and was now returned to where it belonged. He welcomed hers with the warm comfort of home at the end of a long, hard day. She felt safe and cherished and happy in his arms. He felt solid and comfortable in hers. They drank each other in for a long time, tasting the sweetness their bodies made together.

When they finally eased apart, Juanita didn’t stop to think. She looked into his eyes. “Share the bed with me tonight.”

Ryan didn’t look away, but he swallowed. His voice was strained. “I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

“Why not?” Juanita poured all her longing into her gaze, though she kept her words light. “We both won. Let’s celebrate.”

“Juanita, we barely know each other. You know that bet was just in fun. Don’t feel like you have to do this.”

“I don’t. I want to. I know you as well as I need to.” She stroked his cheek. “Please?”

He turned away from her touch. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t think you’re the best judge of that right now. You’re scared and vulnerable and alone, and I’m a safe, friendly face. I’m afraid you’re letting the situation push you into doing something you’ll regret later.”

Frustration bubbled in Juanita’s stomach. This wasn’t the way he was supposed to respond. “I’m not. But even if I am, that’s my choice. It’s not your responsibility to protect me.”

“Yes, it is.” Ryan put his hands on her shoulders and stepped back, applying gentle pressure to keep her from following him. “You’ve been drinking.”

Frustration erupted into anger. “One drink! I’m not even tipsy.” She glared at him. “You’re making excuses. Flimsy ones. If you don’t want to sleep with me, just say so. I’m not a child. I can handle rejection.”

He closed his eyes. Silence stretched between them.

Finally they opened again, meeting hers. His voice was soft and flat. “I don’t want to sleep with you.”

“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Juanita stepped back until his hands dropped from her shoulders. She buried her hurt beneath a light, flippant tone. “See? No tears, no yelling, no begging. Just two people who want different things, acting like adults.”

“Yes.” He finally looked away. “You’re right. I should have been honest with you from the beginning.”

“Now you know.” Juanita turned back to the railing and spoke without looking at him. “I’ll take my turn staying out here while you go back to the room.”

“You don’t have to—” Ryan broke off and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. Of course. Thank you.”

She nodded, still not turning around. After a while, she heard his footsteps move away.

Juanita leaned on the rail and drew deep, ragged breaths. She’d managed to keep her promise and restrain the urge to yell and beg, but she’d lied about the tears. They streamed down her cheeks and dripped into the ocean below.

After a long time, when she’d cried herself out, she scrubbed her face dry and headed up to the top deck. She’d find a comfortable chair and stay there for an hour or two, until she was sure Ryan must be asleep. Morning would be soon enough to face him again.

It was just as well he’d admitted the truth. Now that they both knew where they stood, they could get through the next few days with as little awkwardness as possible. She would put aside her desire for him, now that she knew he didn’t return it. She’d refrain from making any more embarrassing advances.

She really was an adult. He had every right to tell her no, and she honored that. She was responsible for dealing with her own reaction. The fact that her body ached with frustrated need and her heart felt like it had been torn into a million tiny pieces didn’t put any obligation on him. No more than if it had been the other way around and she’d been the one to turn down his request. She would give the same respect she expected to receive, no matter how hard it was.

Sometimes being an adult sucked. But Juanita supposed it was better than any of the possible alternatives. She chose one of the hundreds of empty lounge chairs and sat down, adjusting it so she could lie back and stare up at the beautiful, indifferent stars.

Chapter 11

Ryan hesitated outside the door, steeling himself to face Juanita. She’d looked so tranquil when he’d left her sleeping early that morning, her hair spread out around her on the pillow like a halo, her face as still and perfect as a statue of a saint.

He’d said a silent prayer of thanks that he’d found the strength to turn her down. He still didn’t know how he’d done it. He’d wanted to accept more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. He’d wanted to sweep her up in his arms and carry her to their room and lay her in the big, inviting bed. He’d wanted to explore every inch of her lovely body and invite her to explore his, with no boundaries holding either of them back. He’d wanted to give her every pleasure he knew how to offer, and receive a thousand pleasures from her in return.

But it would have been a disaster. He would have ended up hurting her, no matter how hard he tried not to. That certainty had been the only thing that allowed him to force the lie past his lips. Far better to get the pain over with now, swift and final, than to drag it out. She’d get over it quickly enough.

He wouldn’t, although he couldn’t let her know that. It would be a very long time before he got over Juanita Gomez. If he ever did.

In the meantime, they still had three days of cruise to get through. He’d been immensely relieved when he discovered that his idea was going to work out. It would keep them busy all day. Hopefully, if neither of them had time to mope they could continue their charade well enough to fool their fellow passengers.

Ryan stuck his card in the slot and pushed the door open. The blanket and pillow he’d left folded on the couch were back on the bed, and both sides were rumpled. The curtains were pulled all the way back, letting sunlight stream into the cabin and revealing Juanita lounging in one of the chairs on the balcony, feet propped on the rail.

Ryan went out to join her. She glanced at him quickly as he came through the door, then away. “Thanks for leaving cash for the tip. I’ll pay you back when I can.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Ryan nodded at her empty plate. “Good as the food in the dining room?”

“It’s hard to mess up a bagel and smoked salmon.” She sighed and gestured out. Across the water the shore of Roatan rose, green hills dotted with flowers. “I’ve been enjoying the view.”

He turned and leaned back against the rail, watching her face closely. He didn’t want to miss a moment of her reaction. “How would you like to see it a little closer up?”

Her expression turned puzzled, then wary. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, let’s get off the ship. It’s too late to book an excursion, but there’s some good shopping, and a nice beach in walking distance. We can be out there in fifteen minutes.”

Her breathing accelerated. Longing and anger battled on her face. “You know I can’t risk leaving the ship.”

“That’s why I just went out and did some scouting. Last time I was here, nobody checked my ID when I got back on the ship. Same thing today. Not a customs official in sight. I tried to show my driver’s license to the cruise line employee, and she said all she needed was my cruise card.”

The fear receded and the longing increased. Still, Juanita wasn’t convinced. “That could change. Maybe the officials won’t come out until afternoon. There can’t be many people getting back on the ship right now. They probably think it’s not worth their time.”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. And even if they do, it will be just like in Cozumel. They’ll glance at Carmen’s license and your face and wave you through.” He brought out his most persuasive argument. “In fact, I hope they do show up. You need practice. If you look as scared going through US customs as you looked in Cozumel, they’re going to notice and start asking questions. This will give you the chance to get used to going through a checkpoint while the risk is very small. We can even get on and off the ship several times. Every time it will be easier for you.”

Hope kindled beneath her doubt. “You really think it’s safe?”

“I think the chance of anything going wrong is so tiny it’s not worth worrying about. And I think you deserve the opportunity to get off the ship and have some fun.”

“The ship has plenty of fun things to do.” Juanita tried to look indifferent, but a hungry glance at the buildings of the port, just visible peeking around the side of the ship, spoiled it.

“True, but we’ve got two more days to enjoy them. This is our last port day.” Ryan leaned over the railing, craning to see as much as he could. “Come on. There are some great stores with real local crafts and products. Gorgeous woodworking. Pottery. Rum made right here on the island. And chocolate.”

Juanita straightened, drawing in her breath. “Chocolate?”

“Grown and processed on Roatan by a fair trade co-op. Lots of varieties. Dark, milk, sea salt, passionfruit, mango, chile, plus about a dozen others. And they give free samples.”

Ryan wasn’t sure if that was the factor that clinched her decision, but she jumped to her feet. “All right. Let’s do it.” She still sounded nervous, but nowhere near as frightened as she’d been in Cozumel. Ryan was more certain than ever that he was right. She needed this to prepare her for going through customs in Galveston. That was going to be stressful no matter how ready she was. He’d do anything in his power to spare her the sort of abject terror she’d suffered the first time.

Her step was bouncy as she followed him through the ship and down the elevator. She really had missed going ashore yesterday. He loved getting the chance to fulfill one of her desires. Maybe this would make up a little for the fact that he couldn’t fulfill all of them.

A cruise line employee briskly scanned their cards before they exited. Then they were across the gangway and strolling along the concrete pier. Juanita twisted to look in every direction as they reached land and started up the gracefully curving walkway that climbed to the main cluster of buildings. Flowering bushes and swaying foliage were everywhere. A sign in swooping script proclaimed “Mahogany Bay.”

At the top, buildings surrounded a sunny plaza. Ryan guided Juanita to the left. “Souvenir shopping first. We’ll take our purchases back to our room and grab some lunch. Then we can change into our suits and go to the beach. We don’t have to be aboard to stay until five o’clock.”

“Sounds good,” she said. She was so busy looking around Ryan wasn’t sure she’d really heard, but it didn’t matter.

There were plenty of the usual jewelry shops and liquor stores and displays of imported trinkets and t-shirts, but Ryan passed them up. On the far end of the plaza was a large roofed enclosure with an open front. Inside, dozens of booths held genuine local products. Juanita hurried ahead with eager steps. Ryan hung back and watched her as she stopped at the first booth and began picking up and admiring everything that caught her interest.

Five booths later, he was starting to wonder if this had been such a good idea after all. Apparently Juanita had an endless capacity for window shopping. Or at least, a far greater capacity than Ryan did. She investigated every booth in detail, examining the intricacies of the wares displayed. She particularly liked the items crafted from a variety of naturally colored woods. Ryan watched her stroke a beautiful box inlaid with a cream and tan dolphin over a background of mahogany and purple water. The colors shone rich and warm under her fingers.

“Dad would love this.” She glanced at Ryan. “I haven’t gotten him a souvenir.”

He promptly produced his wallet. “What are you waiting for? He’ll feel left out if he’s the only one without a present.”

“I can find him something cheaper,” she protested, but only halfheartedly. When Ryan gave his credit card to the shopkeeper, she didn’t argue. She smiled as she watched the man wrap the box in newspaper and pass it to Ryan. He grinned to himself. They were making progress, if slowly. A few dozen more shopping expeditions, and he’d have her throwing his money around with aplomb.

They spent a long time at the chocolate booth, sampling all the varieties and debating which to purchase. They settled on a bar of each kind for each of them, as well as additional bars to give everyone in their families. Ryan chose a number to share with his coworkers.

Juanita picked up another bar. “Can we get some for Mom’s home health care nurses? Carmen said they’re taking great care of her.”

“Great idea.” Ryan added a dozen bars to the pile. “Good nurses are worth their weight in chocolate.”

Juanita winced when the shopkeeper told them the total price. Even by Ryan’s standards it was a hefty sum, despite the discount for multiple bars. “I need to stop taking advantage of your generosity.”

He handed over his credit card. “Don’t worry about it. You know I like supporting local businesses.”

She didn’t respond, but as they continued down the row of booths her enthusiasm was noticeably dimmed. Several times Ryan caught her examining an item with a longing expression, then returning it to its place with a sigh. He resisted the urge to purchase each trinket for her. She already felt like she was in his debt. More gifts would make that worse, not better.

He cheered her up by taking her to a booth selling a dozen varieties of local rum. Here, too, free samples were offered. Around her fourth or fifth tiny paper cupful, the sparkle came back to Juanita’s eyes. Ryan noted which kind she liked best, declared it his favorite, and bought three bottles. “Too bad we can’t enjoy some of this on the ship,” he remarked as he added the heavy bag to their growing collection. “But I’ll have to turn it in when we go back aboard. They’ll hold it until we get home.”

“I guess the cruise line wants to make sure we pay them for our drinks,” she said, wandering toward the next booth.

“That, and the state wants to get their cut. I’ll have to declare them and pay tax on them before they let us leave the cruise terminal. Worth it, though.”

She tensed, although she didn’t look away from the display of painted plaques that had caught her eye. “That won’t draw attention to us, will it?”

Ryan made his laugh as reassuring as he could manage. “We might draw attention if we didn’t bring some booze back. Seriously, though, that’s after we’re past customs. Nothing to worry about.”

“If you say so.” Juanita swallowed.

They continued moving from booth to booth. Juanita grew less thorough as time went on. Eventually she was walking past all but the most intriguing booths with only a lingering glance. Ryan was happy enough to skip most of them, but as she turned away from an extensive display of pottery, he hesitated. One vase among the hundreds caught his eye. He stopped and picked it up. Its round belly and graceful neck were covered with tiny geometric patterns incised into brown and green glaze, their precise lines ever so slightly irregular, making it clear the work had been done by hand.

Juanita glanced back and froze. She walked toward him, staring at the vase in his hands. “What made you pick that one?”

“I don’t know. There’s just something about it I like. Why?”

She reached out to run her fingers over it. “Because it’s the same one I noticed when I was walking by.”

Ryan looked at the shelves full of similar vases, along with platters and bowls and cups and a dozen other types of wares. “Just this one?”

She took it from him and turned it over and over in her hands. “Out of all of them.”

Ryan swallowed. He forced his voice to stay light. “Well, that’s clearly a sign it needs to belong to us.”

She shrugged and handed it back. “You can buy it if you want. But we can’t exactly share it, and I don’t see another like it.”

There were similar vases, but none had the same combination of harmonious colors and delicate decoration. And none of them called to Ryan the way this one had. Or Juanita either, apparently. He could picture it on a table, filled with bright flowers, warm and beautiful and homey. He could picture the two of them sitting at that table many years from now, laughing and chatting and gazing at each other with enduring affection.

He shook his head. That vision could never be a reality. But he took the vase to the shopkeeper anyway. He’d persuade Juanita to accept it somehow. It would look out of place in the modern decor of his apartment.

Juanita regarded his load of bags. “I guess you’re probably ready to stop lugging all that stuff around.”

“I’m fine if you want to keep looking. I am starting to get hungry, though. And we shouldn’t wait too long if we want time to swim.”

“Yeah.” Juanita looked wistfully down the row of booths they hadn’t yet reached, then balled her fists and turned toward the plaza. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

Ryan considered asking if she was sure, but that would only aggravate her tension. Best to keep everything as casual and relaxed as possible. He grimaced and passed her the bag with her father’s present. “Do you mind carrying this?”

“Of course not.” Juanita accepted it eagerly and walked beside him toward the ship.

He made light, relaxed conversation about the things they’d seen to keep her distracted. Even so, as they walked along the dock toward the ship, her breath quickened and her voice grew more and more strained. Ryan had been thinking all morning about how he could help her when this moment came and had come up with a strategy. He waited until they were only steps away from the gangway to implement it. “So I was thinking it might be fun to go to the karaoke lounge one evening. You could sing something.”

She jerked her gaze away from the woman scanning the cards of the couple ahead of them and stared at him. “What?”

“You said you like performing on stage. I’d love to hear you. Haven’t you ever sung karaoke before?”

“No.” She pulled her cruise card from her pocket, still frowning at him. “I couldn’t.”

“Why not?” Ryan presented his card for scanning. “Karaoke is fun. No one cares if your voice is any good or not. It’s all about having the guts to get up in front of people and make a fool of yourself.”

She scowled as the employee scanned her card. “I’m not interested in making a fool of myself, thank you very much.”

“Really, I think you’d love it. Tell you what.” Ryan guided her down the corridor toward the table where people were checking their liquor purchases. “I’ll take a turn if you do.”

She squinted at him. “I didn’t know you sang.”

“I don’t.” Ryan set the bag of rum carefully on the table. “I told you, nobody cares. Come on. Say you will.”

“I’ll think about it.” Juanita tapped her foot and shifted her weight while he jotted the required information on the form. When he finished and scooped up the rest of his bags, she hesitantly asked, “How does it work?”

He headed toward the elevators. “They play a recorded track with the music and backup vocals, and the words are on a screen in front of you.” An elevator arrived, and Ryan led Juanita through the doors. “You follow along and belt them out. It’s easy.” The doors closed behind them, leaving them alone. “Almost as easy as getting back on the ship.”

Juanita blinked. “My gosh. It was, wasn’t it? I barely even noticed.”

“I told you all you needed was practice. And something else to think about, so you’re not worrying yourself to death and looking suspicious.”

Realization dawned in her eyes. “So that’s what you were doing.” Her shoulders slumped. Ryan thought it was just from relief, and there was certainly plenty of that in her voice. But he picked up a trace of disappointment as well. “You weren’t actually serious about us singing karaoke.”

“Of course I was.” He’d been half-joking when he’d made the suggestion, but he wasn’t going to back out now. “I think you’ll be great. I just waited to suggest it until the opportune moment.”

She grinned at the allusion. “Are you going to spring something equally distracting on me every time we board?”

“Maybe.” He tried to look innocent.

She giggled. “I don’t think it will work if I’m expecting it.”

“We’ll find out, won’t we? Actually, I think just wondering what I’m going to say will keep you distracted enough even if I don’t manage to come up with anything sufficiently shocking.”

“Hmmph.” Juanita crossed her arms and tried to look offended, but the expression was spoiled by the way the corners of her mouth turned up.

“So, what song are you going to pick?”

She gave him a mock glower. “I haven’t agreed to sing anything yet. What are you going to pick, if I do?”

“Last time, I sang ‘I Would Walk 500 Miles.’ It was a big hit.”

She laughed out loud. “I bet it was.” She sobered again and looked away. “Who were you singing it to?” She grimaced and waved a dismissive hand. “I mean, who were you with? Friends, or…”

Ryan sucked air between his teeth. But he wasn’t going to lie. “An ex-girlfriend. Her name was Katherine.”

She nodded, not meeting his eyes. “You took a cruise with her?”

He briefly reconsidered lying. It could easily have been at a karaoke bar in Houston. But Juanita would probably keep questioning him until she uncovered the truth. “Yeah, actually.”

She looked away. “I bet you had fun.”

At the time he’d enjoyed it. Katherine had been good company. She’d wanted to make their relationship permanent, and for a while he’d thought about it. But something had been lacking, so he’d kept putting her off. Eventually her patience had run out and she’d broken up with him. She’d married someone else less than a year later.

Ryan had never really understood what had held him back from committing to Katherine or any of the other girlfriends who would have welcomed a ring and a ceremony if he’d been willing. But now he did. What he felt for Juanita went so far beyond what he’d felt for any of them that it wasn’t even in the same category. Somewhere deep down he must have known that more was possible and been unwilling to settle for less.

What kind of cruel cosmic joke was it to finally encounter the woman who made him realize that all those sappy romantic clichés were understatements, not exaggerations, under conditions that made it impossible for them to share more than a few days together? If Carmen had introduced him to her sister back in Houston, before the events that had turned Juanita’s life upside down, would he have felt the same way?

Surely he would have. Maybe not so intensely so quickly, but he couldn’t imagine failing to connect with Juanita, no matter what circumstances brought them together. Maybe it would have taken a few weeks or months of dating her before this deep and overwhelming emotion took root and grew and bloomed. But maybe not. Maybe it would have happened just as fast. He certainly wouldn’t have turned down the invitation she’d made last night, no matter how quickly it had come. Maybe things would have progressed so rapidly they’d have been married before the election changed everything. Then she would have been safe from deportation for good.

Ryan’s heart stuttered and his stomach flipped. Would he be willing to marry Juanita, if that would solve her problem? His mind balked at the idea, but his heart didn’t. It would happily drop to one knee and propose to her right here in the elevator. His imagination had no doubt where their relationship would go if it were free to develop naturally. They had that sort of connection. He might as well quit pretending he didn’t know it.

He realized he’d let the silence stretch uncomfortably long without responding. “Yeah, it was fun. I guess.”

Juanita swallowed. “Oh.”

The doors slid open. Ryan wanted to say something, but people were waiting to board the elevator, and they couldn’t keep them waiting. Besides, he couldn’t just blurt out what he’d suddenly realized. He had to think it over. He had to consider what it meant. He had to think about how she might respond.

So he gave her a bland grin and threaded between clusters of people to the corridor and along it to their room. Since his hands were full, she used her card to open the door. He gratefully deposited the bags on the bed. “I sure am glad to put those down. I think we accidentally bought the chocolate that increases in weight over time.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” She flashed a teasing grin.

“So would you if you had to carry it.” Ryan stretched his arms, cracked his knuckles, and turned back to the door. “We’d better grab some lunch quick if we want to have time to enjoy the beach.” He gave Juanita a swift glance. “You do still want to go back out, right?”

Her smile was only a tiny bit tremulous. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter 12

Juanita floated on her back, her eyes closed, her hands clasped under her head, reveling in the warm sunlight falling on her face and body. She’d pulled off her t-shirt along with her shorts and left them with her towel and tote bag on one of the hundreds of lounge chairs that crammed the area between the line of cantinas and the beach. Ryan hadn’t commented, but she’d seen the appreciation in his eyes.

It still felt uncomfortable exposing so much of her body to the view of any casual stranger who walked by. But the beach wasn’t crowded. Bikinis far outnumbered one-piece suits on the women present. And Ryan’s gaze didn’t make her uncomfortable. Quite the contrary. Whenever she caught him sneaking a glance at her bare midriff or exposed cleavage, her heart raced and warm tingles washed over her. She pretended not to notice him looking, but she gave him plenty of opportunities. Like now. Even without cracking her eyelids to peek, she knew his eyes were roaming over her wet, sun-kissed body.

She hoped the sight was driving him crazy with frustration. It would serve him right. He could have seen all this and more last night if he’d wanted. And touched it, too, the way she yearned for him to run his strong, sensitive hands over her skin right now. She wasn’t going to ask, though. One rejection was more than enough. She wasn’t going to put herself in a position to go through that humiliation again.

She didn’t know why he’d turned her down, but it hadn’t been because he wasn’t attracted to her. That much was obvious. For some reason he was denying his body’s desires and resisting the powerful forces drawing them together. Well, she felt no obligation to make it easy for him. She wasn’t going to shield him from temptation. If he lost control and abandoned his restraint, she’d welcome him eagerly. Meanwhile she would take whatever small, vindictive pleasure she could from knowing he wanted what he wasn’t allowing himself to have.

Which was pretty much zero. She sighed and flipped over, letting her feet drift to the sand. She kept her eyes closed long enough to give him a chance to avert his gaze while she sluiced the water out of her face and pushed her hair back. When she straightened, he was looking out past the float-lined rope that ringed the swimming area.

Juanita longed to wrap her arms around his body and run her hands over his broad, bare chest. But after what he’d said last night, that would be inappropriate, if not unforgivably rude. She should have kept her mouth shut. Then maybe they could have continued to steal touches and kisses the way they’d done yesterday, in the name of their act.

Ryan pointed to a spot in the water a dozen feet away. “Look.”

Juanita peered where he indicated. A long, silvery fish darted through the dappled sunlight. She held her breath until it swam out of sight, then let out a long exhale. “I’m still not used to the water being so clear. It’s like a swimming pool.”

“Nicer than murky Galveston water, that’s for sure.”

“Yes, although I miss having breakers to play in.” The water in this sheltered cove lapped the short, steep beach with tiny waves no bigger than those along the edge of a lake.

“Not that Galveston has many of those, either, unless a storm is blowing in.” Ryan grinned at her. “Don’t tell my parents, but once when I was in high school some friends and I drove down to the beach while a tropical storm was out in the Gulf. One of them had a surfboard. The waves were huge, ten or twelve feet tall. We took turns surfing all afternoon. I think every one of us came close to drowning four or five times. It was amazing.”

Juanita shuddered. “You’re crazy.”

“Looking back now, I tend to agree with you, but back then it seemed like a grand adventure. Once I got the hang of staying on the board, it felt like flying. There was this one wave I caught at exactly the right spot. I must have ridden it for a full minute, sliding down the slope with it curling over me, just like you see on TV.”

For a moment Juanita could imagine it, wild and free and exhilarating. The light in Ryan’s eyes and the passion in his voice made her feel as if she were there with him, soaring recklessly through the rising storm.

Ryan’s voice turned rueful. “Then I lost my balance and fell, and the board cracked me on the back of my head. I had a lump for a week. When my mom noticed, I had to lie and tell her I’d slipped in the shower and hit my head on the tub.”

Juanita shook her head, laughing. “Surely there are plenty of ways to have fun that aren’t quite so dangerous.”

“The danger is what gives it the thrill,” Ryan protested. “Safer things aren’t the same.”

“Maybe, but you can’t enjoy the thrill if you’re dead. Give me a roller coaster with a nice secure harness. Or I might be persuaded to try ziplining if the equipment has passed all its inspections. But that’s about as much adrenaline as I can handle.”

Ryan sighed. “I think I must be getting old, because I wouldn’t do it again now. But I’m glad I did then. At least I have the memories.” His mouth twisted into a crooked smile. “And I guess I can think of a few things that are just as much fun without being dangerous. At least not in the same way.” His gaze flicked down over Juanita’s body, then away.

Her pulse jumped. “Would you be glad you took the risk, afterward?”

“Maybe.” He took a deep breath, his eyes returning to Juanita’s face. “Probably.”

She stepped closer to him, stopping while a ripple of water still separated their bodies. “I would.”

He nodded slowly. Not breaking their gaze, he reached for her. His hands settled on each side of her waist.

Juanita closed her eyes as he drew her forward. She laid her hands flat against his chest and ran them up and over his shoulders. His hands slid around to her back and pulled her into his body. She savored the length of him against her chest and belly and thighs, in warm contrast to the cool water. Her hands slipped over his wet skin, and his roamed over hers. She lifted her face to welcome his hungry mouth.

Desire roared in her ears and flamed in her belly. This time she wasn’t going to hold back. He’d have to stop her if he didn’t like it. She stroked her palms from his shoulders all the way down his back and over the waistband of his swim trunks, cupping the taut curves of his buttocks in her hands, massaging his firm muscles through the fabric.

He inhaled but didn’t pull away. Cautiously at first, then urgently, he mirrored her movement. Juanita arched into the wonderful pressure of his hands on her butt. She ground her hips into his, rubbing her belly against the hot, hard shaft trapped between them.

Ryan groaned and panted, dropping his head to rest on her shoulder. One hand groped upward. Juanita reached for it and twined her fingers in his, then pressed his palm to her breast. He kneaded it, his thumb finding her nipple and rubbing it through the thin fabric of her bikini. She shuddered and moaned and fumbled to shove the cloth out of the way, desperate for his bare skin on hers.

For a few blissful moments his caress sent waves of pleasure and need coursing through her body. Then he pulled her top back into place. “We can’t,” he mumbled, his voice thick and clumsy. “People are watching.”

“I don’t care,” Juanita whispered fiercely. But she tore her attention away from him long enough for a quick glance around. No one seemed to be looking directly at them, but there was a family laughing and throwing a frisbee back and forth only a few dozen feet away. An older couple was quietly conversing at about the same distance on their other side, with more people beyond them. A little farther, back at the beach, children were splashing in the shallows and digging in the sand.

“I do,” Ryan said. He ran his eyes down her body, making no effort to hide his desire, but his voice was rueful. “Water this clear doesn’t hide anything.”

Juanita wanted to protest, but she couldn’t. Both of their bodies were visible all the way down to where their feet were lost in a swirl of sand their movement had disturbed. Including the way Ryan’s loose swim trunks draped awkwardly at the front. Juanita bit her lip and looked around again. The glittering sun reflecting off the surface probably hid them from any casual glances. But even through her aching arousal, the thought of being observed made her face hot and her stomach tighten.

She grimaced. “Damn.”

Ryan’s chuckle sounded almost as frustrated as she felt. “I got you to swear.”

“Yeah, well, congratulations.” Juanita didn’t feel like joking. She felt like tearing Ryan’s suit off. But now that he’d drawn her attention to how exposed they were, she couldn’t put the knowledge aside. Why couldn’t he have stayed quiet a minute or two longer?

He cupped her chin and drew her gaze to his. “I’m sorry.”

She blinked hard to clear her blurring vision. “Don’t be. You’re right. I’d be mortified if I thought people had seen us, even if they were polite enough to pretend they hadn’t.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “I just want you so much.”

His grip on her jaw tightened. “I want you, too.”

She swallowed. “You said you didn’t.”

“I lied. I wanted you last night, and I want you even more now. I just don’t want you to get hurt, or embarrassed, or to have any reason to regret anything we do together.”

“I won’t. Ever.” She dashed the tears from her eyes and glared at him. “Will you?”

“That’s what I’ve been asking myself all day.” Ryan slid his hand up to cradle the back of her head. “And I keep coming up with the same answer. The only thing I’d regret is letting you get away.”

“Then don’t.” Juanita raised her hands to cup his face. The blond stubble on his cheeks prickled against her palms.

Ryan nodded slowly. He drew her in, and Juanita pulled him toward her. His lips were soft on hers, gentle and tender. She pressed her lips into them, her body melting against his. They swayed together in the lightly moving water. If they’d been alone Juanita would have wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist. But since she couldn’t quite shake the awareness of the others in the water with them, she broke away after a minute, breathing heavily.

Ryan stroked her cheek and neck and upper arm. His firm, strong hands gently turned her until she was facing away and settled on her shoulders. They massaged her muscles, at first lightly, then with deeper strokes. He spoke softly into her ear. “Do you want to go back to the ship now, to our room? Or do you want to swim for a while longer first?”

A big part of Juanita wanted nothing more than to get him behind a closed door as quickly as possible. But she hadn’t forgotten that she would never get to come back to this lovely place. After this it would be muddy Galveston water for the rest of her life. And anticipation was good, as long as she could be sure her reward waited at the end of it. “That depends.” She twisted to face him. “You’re not going to change your mind again, are you? Do you promise to join me in bed tonight?”

“I promise.” His voice was serious and his eyes met hers without faltering.

A delicious shiver went through Juanita’s body. “Then let’s enjoy the time we have here.” She pointed down the beach to where a long narrow pier stretched into the water, marking the far boundary of the swimming area. “Race you!”

She pushed off from the bottom and stretched her arms into powerful strokes. Her legs kicked with a steady rhythm, propelling her through the water smoothly. The first time she turned her head to catch a breath, she peeked back. Taking him by surprise had given her a few lengths lead, but he was swimming strongly and starting to make up the distance.

Juanita threw all her strength into speed, cutting through the waves with only a bare minimum of glances ahead to make sure she remained on course. Sun-dappled sand flowed beneath her. A school of brightly colored tropical fish scattered from her path. Ryan drew up beside her, and Juanita redoubled her efforts. They swam side by side for a few hundred yards, but then his pace flagged. Juanita was pulling ahead when they reached the pier. Her hand touched the wooden ladder a full two seconds before his.

He clutched the ladder, chest heaving. Juanita clung beside him, panting just as hard. When his breathing finally slowed, he said, “You didn’t tell me you were training for the Olympics.”

Juanita shrugged, but she couldn’t suppress a smug grin. “Hardly. But I was on the swim team for a couple of years in high school, before I decided it ate up way too much time. I picked up a few seconds and thirds at meets, but I was never a star.”

“Then I’m surprised I was able to give you as much of a challenge as I did. I quit taking swimming lessons after I got promoted from Advanced Beginner to Intermediate.”

“I’m way out of shape. I haven’t been in a pool for months, and I haven’t swum more than a few laps at a time for years.”

“Maybe after you’re home you can join the Y or a gym with a pool and get back into it. You’ve certainly still got the form.”

She shrugged and kept her voice light. “Maybe I will. You could join too, and we could work out together.”

His breath stuttered, then smoothed out again. “Maybe.”

Juanita stared at him as he grabbed the ladder and heaved himself up. Did that mean he was willing to consider staying in touch after they got back? Or was it a dismissal of the possibility? He’d always talked as if their connection would end along with the cruise. But he lived in Houston just like she did, so there was no reason it had to. Not if they both wanted more.

Juanita put the thought firmly out of her head and focused on enjoying the sight of water streaming down his broad, muscled back and his tight butt flexing beneath his clinging suit as his legs propelled him up the ladder. Against all hope she’d won his promise to come to her bed. She wasn’t going to spoil the time they had together with further demands. She would relish every minute he gave her, no matter how many or few of them there were, and let him go with no regrets when it was over.

She climbed the ladder after him, shaking water from her body and squeezing it out of her ponytail when she reached the top. The warm sun and soft breeze combined into a pleasant temperature, so the fact that her towel was far back along the beach didn’t bother her. She reached for Ryan’s hand. “Let’s walk back. I think I’m ready to dry off.”

“Me, too. As well as being ready for a drink. I think we can find a daiquiri or piña colada up there if we try.”

“That sounds great.” If he wanted to spend money on her, she wasn’t going to argue any more. And a cool, tart tropical drink really did sound wonderful. Her mouth watered just thinking about it.

They strolled hand in hand along the pier, pointing out glimpses of sea life in the water. Juanita spotted an octopus among some coral, and they stood watching it for several minutes before it vanished into an impossibly narrow crack. Ryan called her attention to the spiky waving fins of a lion fish. He’d read that they were an invasive species in this part of the world, and that the locals caught and ate as many as they could.

Back on shore, they picked an inviting-looking cantina and ordered a couple of frozen daiquiris. Ryan paid with the credit card he’d tucked into a zippered pocket in his swim trunks. They sipped them while meandering back to the lounge chairs where they’d left their belongings, under the spreading fronds of a palm tree. By wordless agreement they settled into the seats.

Juanita sipped the sweet, tangy slush and closed her eyes. The sun warmed her icy lips and lit the back of her eyelids with a soft red glow. The light breeze caressed her skin and carried the salty, slightly fishy scent of the ocean to her nostrils. Latin music floated from the cantina behind her, along with the aroma of roasting meat and frying tortillas. Palm fronds rustled, the ocean lapped and murmured, birds called in sweet or squawking voices. Close beside her, Ryan’s breath sighed in and out. His fingers twined between hers, his fingertips occasionally rubbing lightly across her palm.

Juanita nursed her daiquiri as long as she possibly could. She never wanted this moment to end. Even after her cup was empty and she set it in the sand beside her chair, she lay still for a long time, drifting in and out of a light doze, floating in a dreamy haze between sleeping and waking.

Ryan’s touch stole into her dream. His fingers ran along her arm and stroked her belly. His lips nibbled her collarbone and his tongue lapped the tops of her breasts. She moaned and pressed into the sensation. Please, let his fingers drift a little lower, his mouth travel a little farther…

His voice whispered in her ear. “It’s getting late. We need to start heading back to the ship.”

Reluctantly Juanita dragged her eyes open. If not for his promise of what was to come, his teasing touches would have been maddening. With it, they were a delicious foretaste of awaiting delights. She reached for his face where it hovered over her and stroked his cheek, then pulled his mouth to hers. A trace of tart sweetness lingered on his lips. She licked it up until only his own flavor was left, rich and masculine and delicious.

Energized, she pulled away and dug in her tote bag. She emerged with her clothes and jumped to her feet to pull them on over her nearly-dry suit. Ryan watched as she stepped into her shorts and buttoned them at her waist. She took it slowly and tantalizingly for his benefit, enjoying the way his eyes devoured every movement.

When she reached for her shirt, his soft sigh made her pause. “Would you rather I leave it off?”

“It’s up to you.” He swallowed. “But, yes, I would.”

“Okay.” She didn’t care who else looked at her, as long as Ryan did. The touch of his gaze felt almost as good as the touch of his fingers. She stuffed the shirt back into her bag. “Let’s go.”

He looked away for a moment, breathing deeply, then climbed to his feet. Juanita took his hand and they headed back the way they’d come to the beach.

A chairlift connected the beach to the port, but Ryan and Juanita had opted to walk instead of riding it. The broad paved path was less than a mile long. They strolled hand in hand across a bridge over an inlet. On the far side, where the paved walk continued straight, a dirt path led to the left. A sign read “Nature Trail.”

“Let’s go this way,” Juanita said, tugging Ryan in that direction.

He consulted his watch. “All right. We’ve got plenty of time left.”

The trail climbed steeply up a forested slope. Soon all evidence of human habitation vanished behind the thick foliage. A hush settled over them, broken only by their footsteps and occasional bird calls.

Juanita was starting to regret choosing the hilly route over the flatter one when the path leveled out and widened enough for Ryan to walk beside her instead of following behind. He slung his arm around her waist, and she wrapped hers around his. The shade was deep enough that his warmth against her side felt good. She nestled against him and stretched her strides as he shortened his until their lengths matched.

They reached the point where the trail bent back to the right and descended to rejoin the main path. A short side trail led to a clearing where a bench swing hung from a wooden framework, looking out over a spectacular view of the port buildings and the ship beyond.

Ryan led Juanita to the swing and took a seat. She settled beside him and rested her head on his chest as his arm wrapped her shoulders. He laid his other hand palm up on his thigh, and she reached to clasp it. Their feet pushed the swing into a gentle rocking sway.

Juanita looked down at the tall white side of the ship with its grid of balconies. For the first time the sight didn’t give her even a slight sense of dread. She’d breeze across the gangway and display her card for the scanner without a qualm. What waited on the far side was much too enticing to allow anything as trivial as the minuscule chance her deception might be discovered to slow her down.

Ryan stroked her arm. His voice rumbled under her ear. “Juanita…”

“Hmm?” She looked up expectantly.

Instead of bending to kiss her, he cleared his throat and stared out at the view. “I was thinking.”

“Oh?” She straightened a little, her stomach going hollow. She tried to make her voice light and teasing, but she feared anxiety crept in. “Not about reneging on your promise, I hope.”

“No.” But his tone was so grave she couldn’t take any reassurance from the denial. “About what’s going to happen after we get home.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t expect anything from you, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ve already done far more for me than I have any right to ask. Once I’m past customs, I’m on my own. Sleeping together won’t change that.”

“What if I want it to?” He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the ship.

Juanita’s heart stuttered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I don’t want to have sex with you and then walk away as if it meant nothing to me. I don’t want to act like this is just a casual hookup. You know it’s not.”

She tightened her grip on his hand. “I don’t see how it can be anything else. You don’t want to get tangled up in my troubles any more than you already are. And I don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. Like I said, you’ve already done far more than I can ever repay.”

“I like doing things for you. I like being with you. I don’t want to stop just because we’re back in the US.” His hand moved compulsively up and down her arm. “I’m serious about this, Juanita. I know it’s too soon to be talking about long term, but I can’t help how I feel. I can see our relationship turning into something permanent. I mean, we’d have to research the legalities. You might have to go back to Mexico for a while to be able to file all the right papers. But think what it could mean for you. You could be a legal resident, for good this time. You’d be eligible to go through the steps to become a naturalized citizen. You’d never have to worry about being deported again, no matter who’s in charge or how they change the laws. I would love to be able to give you that. Please, at least think about it.”

Juanita grew colder the whole time he was talking, until her blood felt like ice and her stomach like a lump of stone. When he finally shut up, she jerked away and stumbled to her feet, trying to escape his pleading, expectant gaze. She forced words through her frozen lips. “Is that what you think? That I’m trying to trap you into a green card marriage? That all of this has been nothing but a ploy to use you to get citizenship?”

He jumped up, setting the swing wildly rocking. It banged into his legs, but he ignored it. “Of course not! I know you’d never do that. I want to help you.”

“Of course you do.” Juanita scrubbed her face, then clenched her fists. “You’re a goddamn fucking Boy Scout. You saw a damsel in distress, and you came charging to her rescue on a goddamn white horse.”

His eyes widened at her language, and he started to smile, but it fell from his lips as she plowed on. “Well, fuck you, Ryan Hertz. I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need your help. I most certainly don’t need you to marry me so you can feel smug about doing your good deed for the year.” Tears blurred her vision no matter how hard she tried to blink them away. “You fooled me. I thought you wanted me for me. Because you liked my body. Because you thought sex with me would feel good. Because you expected to enjoy it. All the reasons I wanted you. But I was never anything but another badge for you to earn, was I? Someone to grace with the great favor of your attention, because she certainly couldn’t earn it for herself. To sleep with out of charity, because doing nice things for needy people makes you feel good, and she wasn’t going to get any any other way!”

Finally the anger she was trying desperately to provoke kindled in his eyes. He took a step toward her, and she shrank back. “Damn it, Juanita, that’s a load of crap. Of course I want you! You’re lucky I am a Boy Scout, or I’d show you exactly how much right here and now.”

Fear and desire flamed together in her belly. “Do it,” she taunted, her pulse thundering in her ears. “If I’m wrong, grab me and take me right here. I won’t fight you.”

He stared at her, panting, fists clenched. She stared back, not knowing whether she wanted him to accept her dare or not.

He wrenched himself around to stare down at the port. “That’s not what you really want.”

Relief and disappointment washed over her, so mixed she didn’t know which was stronger. “So you admit I’m right.”

“No, but I don’t know any way to convince you that won’t hurt you. And I’m not going to do that. It’s not who I am.” He buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe that’s the way it started, at least. I do want to help you. I always have. But please believe me, that’s not all there is to it. Not anymore. I want you for entirely selfish reasons. That’s why I agreed to sleep with you, despite believing it was my duty to protect you and it would be wrong to take advantage of you. That’s why I still will, if you ask me for real and not to try to prove something. And believe it or not, that’s why I started thinking about how we could have a future together. Because I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anyone or anything in my life, and I can’t bear the thought of ever not having you.”

Juanita wanted desperately to believe him. She knew he thought he was telling the truth. But there was too big a chance he was fooling himself. She couldn’t let him fool her, too. If all he cared about was her happiness without equal concern for his own, he’d say whatever he thought she wanted to hear. If she let him convince her, it might work out for a while, but a day would come in the not-too-distant future when he’d realize the truth. When he’d discover he was miserable, trapped in a relationship where he was always giving, which offered him nothing in return. Then they’d both end up getting hurt, far more than if she put a swift end to it now.

She fought to keep her voice from trembling. “I’m sorry. But I can’t take the risk. If I could go back in time and tell Carmen not to get you involved, I would. But since that’s impossible, we’re just going to have to make the best of it for three more days. I’ll keep my distance as much as I can, so it’s as easy as possible on both of us.”

“Damn it, Juanita, don’t do this to me.” Ryan grabbed her by the shoulders. He dragged her close and his mouth descended on hers. Passion and fear and need drove his lips and tongue. Juanita drank him in, yearning to accept everything he offered. Almost, almost she could believe it was real…

She tore herself from his grasp. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t have any choice.”

She whirled and fled down the trail, not slowing until she got to the paved path and her haste drew curious looks from the people making their way back to the ship. She fell in with them, striding as quickly as she could without attracting attention. When she finally glanced back, just before rounding a curve that would cut off the overlook from her sight, he was still standing by the swing.

She continued along the path and down the concrete pier to the ship. A long line waited to cross the gangway. She fell in at the end. By the time she reached the front, he still hadn’t appeared. She barely noticed when the cruise line employee scanned her card. What if he waited too long and the ship sailed without him?

She forced herself to walk to the elevators without looking back. If he did, that was his problem, not hers. Both of them were adults and could take care of themselves. She entered the first elevator that arrived, rode up to the tenth floor, and made her way through the corridors to their room. She’d take a shower and get dressed. If he didn’t show up by suppertime, she’d go to the dining room alone and make up something to tell Nancy and Dave.

She didn’t need him. She never would. No matter how much it hurt to leave him behind.

Chapter 13

Only after he was sure Juanita must have made it back aboard the ship did Ryan abandon the swing and walk with dragging steps along the path, across the plaza, and down to the pier. He was among the final stragglers to cross the gangway. Two cruise line employees had their heads together as one of them scanned his card, discussing whether or not they’d have to chase the handful of missing passengers down. Despite all the stern warnings about leaving people behind in port if they weren’t back on time, Ryan was pretty sure they seldom did. It would cause too much negative publicity to do as anything but a last resort.

With his nearly dry suit and the t-shirt he’d retrieved from his bag, he blended in with the crowds wandering the corridors. He’d stay away from their room until the last possible moment. If he arrived with only enough time to grab a quick shower and dress before heading to the dining room, he wouldn’t have to exchange more than cursory words with Juanita. They could put on an act for Nancy and Dave the way they’d been doing all along. The show would keep them occupied without requiring more than minimal interaction. Then he could escape to the casino or sports bar while Juanita returned to the room. Maybe he’d stay out all night, if the thought of sleeping in the same room with Juanita, so near and so far from the bed he’d promised to share, still felt like torture.

What the hell had he done wrong? He still couldn’t figure it out. One minute he’d been confessing his deepest feelings and dearest hopes, and the next she’d been yelling at him and accusing him of—what, exactly?

Wanting to help her. Wanting to take care of her. Not wanting to hurt her. Which were bad things, apparently. According to Juanita, if he really loved her he’d treat her like a selfish jerk, using her for his own pleasure without regard for hers. He’d enjoy a few no-strings-attached nights of fun but meaningless sex, then wave good-bye without a second thought. He wouldn’t be haunted by the memory of her trembling voice and shaking body as she described her arrest and deportation. He wouldn’t care that she’d remain a fugitive, or that she might have to endure the same nightmare all over again if they ever caught her.

Forget it. If Juanita wanted a bad boy to use and abuse her, she’d have to look for someone else. That’s not who he was. “Boy Scout” wasn’t an insult. Putting her welfare over his desires didn’t mean he had none. Wanting the best for her didn’t make him a wimp or a weakling or a doormat. It took a whole lot more strength than pushing her around would have. If Juanita couldn’t see that, she wasn’t the woman for him, no matter what his heart and body insisted.

For a while he hung out in the atrium, listening to a string trio play dramatic music on electric instruments. The novelty distracted him—he’d never known there were such things as electric violins or cellos. They looked bizarre, as if someone had cut out just the strings, leaving only a narrow strip to support them. The musicians were talented, though. Ryan flopped in a chair and let the music wash over him until their set was over.

It was still too early to go back to the room, so he dragged himself up a flight of steps to where rows of shops lined both sides of the soaring open space. He poked through one selling diamond and gold jewelry, but he couldn’t stop imagining every necklace encircling Juanita’s graceful throat and every ring gleaming on her finger. He moved on to the next, which carried expensive liquors, but none of the big international brands held much appeal next to the local rum they’d sampled, and the duty-free prices the signs trumpeted weren’t any better than he could get at Spec’s.

A candy store held dozens of varieties of chocolate he’d love to feed Juanita so he could watch the rapturous expression spread across her face. A clothing shop displayed sundresses that would drape her curves beautifully in bright colors that would complement her caramel skin. Another held racks of flowered bikinis that would show off her figure far too well for him to want anyone but him to see her wearing them.

Finally he found a shop full of bland, mass-produced souvenirs Juanita would despise on principle. Ryan browsed among the t-shirts and hats for a while without seeing anything that appealed to him. None of the figurines of dolphins or palm trees or tropical fish did, either. He studied the rows of coffee mugs with cute sayings for a while, but eventually passed them over. Finally he picked up two packs of playing cards, one with a generically pretty beach scene, the other with a picture of a Festival ship that wasn’t the Zephyr but looked similar. Maybe he could find a stranger or two willing to play a few hands of Spades or Canasta. Or maybe he’d just play solitaire.

Near the cash register was a small display of shampoo, shaving cream, toothpaste, and other necessities. The prices were as inflated as he’d expect, but he supposed that if you’d forgotten something important, they’d be worth paying. He scanned the shelves for sunscreen. They’d used up the two cans he’d brought. Juanita would probably want to play on the water slides again tomorrow, and he wasn’t going to let her get sunburned. Maybe she’d allow him to spray the parts of her back she couldn’t reach, even if she refused to interact with him otherwise.

He found the cans of sunscreen and chose one, hesitating over a second. Eventually he added it to his selections. Better to have too much than too little. This way they could each use a separate can if Juanita insisted.

As he was about to head to the register, his eye fell on a row of boxes on the bottom shelf. Condoms. Ryan’s face warmed. He hadn’t brought any from home. He’d had no clue he might need them. The lack hadn’t crossed his mind when he’d made his reckless promise to Juanita. Now chances were high that they’d sit in a corner of his suitcase until he got back to Houston and stuck the box in a drawer. But if he was luckier than he had any right to hope and Juanita changed her mind, shouldn’t he be prepared? Ryan winced when he checked the price, but grabbed a box anyway. He’d wasted greater sums before. If these ended up getting tossed unused when the expiration date passed, it wouldn’t kill him.

After his purchases were safely tucked away in his bag, he checked the time. The minutes had slipped past while he wasn’t paying attention. Now he’d have to rush if he wanted to make it to the dining room in time.

Maybe he should skip it and get something to eat from the buffet on the Lido deck instead. But if Juanita showed up to dinner alone, Nancy and Dave would be curious. They might start asking questions. Juanita could probably deflect any suspicion if she chose her answers carefully, but he didn’t want to put her in that position. The older couple were the only people on the cruise they’d really become acquainted with. Their best bet for maintaining their cover was to keep them convinced their relationship was genuine.

He opened the door of their room carefully and peeked inside. “Juanita?” No answer. He ventured inside. The bathroom door stood open. A wet bathmat was on the floor, the mirror was foggy, and Juanita’s bikini was draped over the towel bar. The bed was neatly made, with today’s towel animal, a teddy bear, perched at the foot. The curtain was drawn over the window and balcony door, but when he pushed it aside and peered out, Juanita wasn’t there, either.

Half relieved, half disappointed, Ryan returned to the bathroom and took a quick shower. He rinsed the sand and salt out of his swim trunks and pulled out the retractable clothesline that stretched across the shower stall to hang them up. After a moment’s hesitation he draped the bikini top and bottom beside them. Juanita had been considerate to leave them out of his way. He could return the thoughtful gesture by ensuring they got enough air circulation to dry thoroughly.

Slacks and a knit shirt would do for dinner. He glanced at the time and grimaced. Hopefully Emil would go ahead and serve the appetizers without making the others wait for him to arrive.

Instead of waiting for the elevator he raced down flight after flight of stairs, arriving at the dining room entrance breathless and flushed. He wove between tables to the back wall. His heart caught when he spotted Juanita sitting beside Nancy, with Dave across the table, all three chatting and appearing relaxed.

Her glance flicked to him and she raised a hand. Nancy and Dave greeted him with big smiles. He hoped they didn’t notice her blank expression and the way she wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. “Sorry I’m late,” he told them as he slid into his seat. “Hope you didn’t wait for me.”

“We didn’t,” Juanita said. “I ordered frog legs for your appetizer and prime rib for your entree. I hope that’s okay.”

“Perfect,” he said. Maybe choosing the frog legs had been some sort of passive-aggressive dig. He suspected her opinion of them matched her feelings about escargot. But he’d always wanted the opportunity to try them, so he wasn’t going to take offense. And of course he loved prime rib. On second thought, maybe she’d chosen the frog legs because she knew about his adventurous tastes. Maybe she’d done her best to order as he would have, either out of simple courtesy or a genuine desire to move past their argument.

Whatever. There was no use trying to read her mind, and her face betrayed no hint of her motives. He grinned impartially at her and the Jacksons. “What did I miss?”

“I was just telling Nancy and Dave about our afternoon at the beach, and how you dozed off while I was in the shower. I’m glad I thought to set the alarm on your phone before I went by the library to pick up a book. Although when you weren’t here when I arrived, I worried you’d slept right through it.”

“Not quite, but I did hit the snooze a few times. Thanks for trying, though.” He spread his hands apologetically. “Find anything interesting?”

“No, but they’ve got a bunch of games down there in addition to the books. If we have some free time tomorrow, maybe we can play one.”

“I’d enjoy that.” He tried to catch her eye and smile to let her know he appreciated her smooth explanation for their separate arrivals and his tardiness, but she ignored him and focused on the roll she was buttering. He suppressed a sigh, took one from the basket as well, and reached for the butter dish. Lunch had been a long time ago.

Before the silence got uncomfortable, Nancy beamed at them. “We had a lovely day, too. This morning we went snorkeling with dolphins. I think it was my favorite expedition of all the ones we’ve done.”

Dave mirrored her enthusiasm. “It was great. We got to swim around in a big enclosed area with them. They could wander wherever they pleased. Our masks let us see them underwater. Part of the time they were off on the far side, but for a while they were right there in among our group. One of the keepers showed us how to play catch with seaweed with them.”

“And before that, we had a session with one of them and one of the trainers. Her name was Polly—the dolphin, I mean, not the person. She was the sweetest thing. We got to pet her and touch her fins and teeth and take pictures with her.”

Nancy and Dave both pulled out their phones and displayed the photos and videos they’d captured. Ryan enjoyed them, especially the picture with them on both sides of the dolphin, their arms around her. But he kept being distracted by the enchanted but wistful expression on Juanita’s face as she exclaimed over the images. He ached for the chance to take her there and give her the opportunity to see and touch and play with the beautiful creatures herself. But it was impossible. Roatan was receding farther behind them every minute. Juanita would never be free to return. She’d emphatically rejected the one route that might have offered her a way.

Their appetizers arrived. Ryan picked up a long, skinny frog leg and took a cautious bite. “Hmm. Not bad. Would it be a cliché if I said it tastes like chicken? Because it does. With just a hint of fish.” He held it out to Juanita. “Want to try?”

“No, thanks.” She didn’t even smile. She didn’t offer to let him taste her crab cake, either.

Ryan tried to attribute the yawning emptiness in the pit of his stomach to hunger, but that got harder to do when it didn’t go away after his prime rib arrived and he dug in. In fact, it got worse every time Juanita responded to one of his jokes with a dull monosyllable or went from eagerly smiling at Nancy and Dave to a flat, lifeless expression when she turned in his direction. When the dessert menus arrived and Juanita ordered the fruit plate, it sharpened to actual pain.

He’d blown it. He’d managed to drive her away mere hours after he’d realized how much she meant to him. Their disagreement wasn’t going to blow over. He’d rushed ahead too fast too soon, before he knew her well enough to anticipate how she’d react. His obtuseness had killed whatever physical desire she’d felt for him. Either that, or she was hiding it awfully well.

He, on the other hand, wanted her more than ever. He wanted the eager light back in her eyes when she gazed at him. He wanted to stroke her smooth cheek and pull her hair out of its ponytail and run his fingers through its soft chestnut waves. He wanted her to hold him to his promise, to pull back the covers and invite him to slide between the cool sheets, to wrap her body around his and draw him into herself.

His melt-in-your-mouth cake tasted bitter and metallic. He shoved it away after only a few bites. “Excuse me. I need to drop back by our room for a minute. Juanita, I’ll meet you at the theater for the show, all right?”

“I’ll save you a seat.” A trace of interest quickened her voice, but he knew it was for what she was saying, not for him. “It’s Broadway music tonight, so you won’t want to miss it.”

“Of course not.” He tried once more to catch her eyes, and once more failed. He stretched his mouth into a wide grin for Nancy and Dave’s sake. “Bye. See you later.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and made his escape.

Chapter 14

Juanita picked at her fruit. She’d give Ryan five minutes to be sure she wouldn’t run into him, then excuse herself and leave. She really did want to see the show, even if there seemed to be a thick blanket wrapped around her heart, muffling her enthusiasm along with every other emotion. Maybe he wouldn’t show up at the theater after all, although she’d hate for him to miss what promised to be the best show of the cruise. Maybe he’d find a seat somewhere away from her. Maybe she should suggest it, if he came to join her.

When she looked up, Dave was standing behind Nancy’s chair, patting her shoulder. He bent to give her a quick kiss, then strode away.

Relieved, Juanita set her fork down. “I need to go, too. I’ll see you again tomorrow, I hope.”

Nancy cleared her throat. “Before you rush off, do you mind if I ask you a question?”

Juanita tensed, but she couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse. There was still half an hour left before the show started. She swallowed and pressed back into her chair. “Um, no, I guess.”

Nancy studied her for a moment, frowning. Abruptly she shook her head. “Forgive me if I’m being too nosy, but… is something wrong, honey? Between you and Ryan, I mean. You’ve always seemed so happy with each other, but tonight you’ve both been acting as if you can hardly bear to be in the same room.”

Juanita closed her eyes and shrugged, fighting to keep her voice steady. “We had an argument, is all.”

“If you need to talk to someone about it, I’d be happy to listen. I expect it’s difficult, being out here away from the friends and family you’d normally go to with something like this.”

“Yeah.” Juanita swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. “I wish I could call my sister, but I can’t afford the rates they charge for cell phone service. And Ca—” She coughed to cover up her error. “Juanita has other things on her mind to worry about right now, without me whining to her about my troubles.”

Nancy reached out and patted her knee. “I’ve got three daughters. The youngest is only a little older than you. I promise, I’ve listened to my share of whining over the years. I’m used to it. And whatever it is, I expect you’ll feel a lot better once you get it out.”

Juanita knew Nancy was right. She desperately wanted to talk about what had happened with someone. She didn’t dare tell Nancy the full story—the older woman surely wouldn’t report her to immigration, but Juanita didn’t want her to get in trouble for knowing and not telling if things went wrong.

But maybe it would be enough to describe things in vague terms. “Okay. Ryan… we haven’t really known each other very long. Things were going great, but then he started saying things I’m not ready for. I probably won’t ever be, actually. And I don’t think he meant it. Not the way he’d have to mean it if I was going to consider it. I think he just feels sorry for me. And I hate it. I don’t want him to pity me. I want him to… admire me, see me as an equal, care about me. Not some lost puppy he can rescue, you know?”

Nancy nodded slowly, although Juanita could tell she hadn’t followed everything. She understood the most important part, though. “The way you care about him? You do, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Juanita whispered. “I do. Very much.”

“But he doesn’t?”

Juanita stared blindly across the table. “I thought he did. Before he started saying all that about helping me and protecting me, I was sure of it. I guess he might. I mean, it’s normal for guys to want to take care of girls they like, and protect them, and fix all their problems, right? It can be annoying, but it doesn’t necessarily mean there’s something wrong.”

Nancy had the most calming voice, quiet and warm and accepting. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know.” Juanita picked up her spoon and turned it around and around in her fingers. “I wish he hadn’t said it. I was really looking forward to… tonight.” Her cheeks warmed. “I wish I’d walked away and not heard it. Then I could have kept believing he actually wanted me.”

“You’d still have needed to deal with this issue eventually, though.”

“I guess.” Actually, they could have avoided it completely. They could have enjoyed each other’s bodies for the rest of the cruise without delving into any topic deeper than their respective sexual preferences. But Juanita couldn’t say that to Nancy, because she was pretty sure the older woman disapproved of sex outside of marriage.

Juanita didn’t, though. She would have been perfectly happy with a solely physical relationship with Ryan. It wouldn’t have bothered her to kiss him goodbye at the cruise terminal before they went their separate ways. She wouldn’t have missed him. She wouldn’t have thought about him every day. She wouldn’t have fought the temptation to call him and invite him over. She wouldn’t have wondered if they could have more. Even—maybe, eventually, someday, far in the future, when they’d been together a long time and knew each other much, much better, after lust and infatuation had had the chance to mature into something deeper and truer and longer-lasting—marriage.

Who was she trying to fool? Juanita scrunched her eyes closed to contain the welling tears. It had been too late for a casual relationship before they left Cozumel. Ryan was Ryan, not some random stranger. Something in Juanita had connected with something in him that first day, and the bond had only grown stronger since. Their current estrangement didn’t negate that. If anything, it confirmed it. She wouldn’t have reacted so strongly to his words if she didn’t care how he felt about her. She wouldn’t be miserable at the thought of losing him if she wasn’t falling in love with him.

She gulped, sniffed, scrubbed her eyes with her napkin, and turned back to Nancy. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, honey.” Nancy patted her knee again.

Juanita took a deep breath. “What do you think I should do?”

Nancy held up her hand. “It’s not my place to say. It’s your life, and you have to make the decisions.” Her expression softened. “But for what it’s worth, I think you should talk with him. Tell him how you feel, and listen to what he says. It’s pretty obvious the two of you have something special. It would be a shame to give up and let it slip away without doing everything in your power to work out your problems first. At least that way, even if you fail, you’ll know you tried.”

Juanita nodded slowly. “You’re probably right.”

Nancy grinned wryly. “If I am, it’s because I learned the hard way. I wish someone had told me back when Dave and I first met. It could have saved us both a lot of heartache. Of course, I was young and stubborn and thought I knew everything, so I probably wouldn’t have listened.”

She laughed, and Juanita chucked in response. Then Nancy sobered and took her hand, squeezing it tight. “We all have to grow into love in our own way and our own time. I hope you and Ryan are ready. But even if you’re not, don’t give up. Someday, with someone, the time will be right. Happily ever after really does exist, and it’s worth whatever it takes to get there. I know, because I’m living it.”

Juanita clutched her hand and squeezed back. She felt as if she’d been drowning and Nancy had thrown her a life preserver. “Thank you.”

Nancy released her and sat back. “Go on, now. I wouldn’t want to make you late for the show.” She made a shooing motion, then picked up her fork and returned her attention to her half-finished carrot cake.

Juanita scrambled to her feet and made her way between the tables, swaying a little when the ship’s subtle motion disrupted her balance. Nancy had given her a lot to think about. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do with it. But the despair that had nearly crushed her was gone, replaced by scary, painful hope.

She arrived at the theater with plenty of time to find a good seat. She chose one of the two-person boxes along the edge of the balcony. The view was great, and it was close to where they’d sat each previous night, so Ryan would look for her in the area.

Over the next fifteen minutes the theater grew more and more crowded. Several people asked Juanita if the place next to her was available. She told them it wasn’t. She kept twisting around to scan the doors and aisles. But when the lights went down and the music started, Ryan still hadn’t appeared.

She swallowed her disappointment and tried to focus on the rousing rendition of “There’s No Business Like Show Business” unfolding on stage. Eventually the strong singing and vigorous dancing sucked her in. There was even a reasonably well-done story linking the eclectic mix of songs. When the cast transitioned into a lovely arrangement of “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning” from Oklahoma!, she settled back in the seat and gave them her full attention.

As the baritone belted the final notes, a hand fell on her shoulder, making her jump. “Excuse me,” a soft voice murmured in her ear. “Is this seat taken?”

She gave Ryan a tremulous smile and patted the cushion. “It is now.”

He settled next to her. He didn’t put his arm around her, but he scooted close enough Juanita felt the warmth of his body along her side. “Did I miss much?”

“Only a little.” Juanita pointed to the stage. “He’s a businessman who plans to tear down an abandoned theater. She’s an actress who’s trying to persuade him to renovate it and invest in her theater troupe instead, by putting on numbers from all the classic hit musicals that played there in the past.”

“Let me guess. They’re going to fall in love before it’s over.”

Juanita quirked him a smile as “Getting to Know You” from The King and I began. “It is a musical. A love story is practically a requirement.”

Ryan nodded. After a moment he said, “They don’t always end happily, though, do they? Like the one this song’s from. Doesn’t the king die?”

“It’s bittersweet,” Juanita admitted. “But it’s still beautiful.”

He nodded. Juanita studied him for a moment, then returned her attention to the stage. They watched the show in silence.

Midway through, the female lead sang a gorgeous “Far From the Home I Love” from Fiddler on the Roof that brought tears to Juanita’s eyes and a lump to her throat. Ryan shifted and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She leaned into him. His body felt good and right against hers. She relaxed into its solid warmth as the songs continued and the male lead gradually softened, won over by the power of love and music.

Finally, alone on the dark stage, lit by a single spotlight, he launched into “Some Enchanted Evening” from South Pacific. Shivers thrilled along Juanita’s spine. Ryan’s arm tightened around her. She felt as if he were singing the lyrics directly to her. They might have been written just for the two of them. Seeing a stranger, and somehow knowing from that first moment, beyond all reason or explanation, that you were meant for each other. That you must seize the chance and hold on tight or it would slip away forever…

The leads joined for a touching “Suddenly Seymour” from Little Shop of Horrors. Then the whole cast celebrated with an energetic medley ending in “You Can’t Stop the Beat” from Hairspray.

Juanita and Ryan joined the rest of the crowd in a standing ovation as the cast took their bows. Then the lights came up and people started moving toward the exits. Ryan reached for her hand. “What do you want to do now?”

Juanita summoned all her courage. “Let’s go somewhere quiet. I’d like to talk.”

Ryan studied her for a moment, then nodded. “The secret balcony?”

“That would be perfect.”

Neither of them said anything as they shuffled with the crowd out of the theater, rode the elevator up to the tenth floor, and walked down the corridor to the nondescript door. Outside, the night was dark and only slightly windy. The ocean stretched before them, unimaginably vast, reflecting the brilliant stars that arched overhead.

Juanita propped her forearms on the railing and lifted her face to the breeze. Beside her, Ryan looked up at the stars. Juanita followed his gaze, drinking in the spangled expanse without trying to discern any patterns. But eventually she became aware of a familiar shape directly ahead. “There’s the Big Dipper.”

“Mm-hmm. We’re heading north. Going home.”

Juanita nodded, her throat tight. For a long time neither of them said anything.

Ryan pointed to the left, at a bright dot low on the horizon. “I’m pretty sure that’s Venus. See how it shines instead of twinkling?”

Juanita studied it, seeing what he meant. “And it’s making a path across the ocean, like the moon does.” The faint but distinct streak glowed on the dark water, a straight line linking them to the planet.

“Wow. It is. That’s amazing.” The wonder in his voice was too genuine for Juanita to doubt he meant it. “It will be setting soon. We should stay here and watch until it does.”

“If you want.” They had the deck to themselves, so it would be safe to speak of private things. But they were still in public, so there was a limit to what could happen unless they both made the deliberate choice to return to their room.

Even so, they lapsed into silence again, and it was a long time before Juanita could bring herself to break it. What she needed to say might shatter the fragile accord they’d settled into. But if it went unsaid, they’d be stuck in limbo, unable to come together, unwilling to move apart. Sooner or later they’d be forced into having this discussion, probably under circumstances a lot less conducive to honesty and vulnerability than these were.

So she finally gulped and blurted it out. “Ryan, I think I overreacted to what you said this afternoon.”

He shrugged. His voice stayed carefully neutral. “You told me the truth about how you felt.”

“So did you.”

“Yes.” He kept staring at the imperceptibly sinking planet.

She knotted her hands together. “I’ve been thinking about what you suggested. Maybe… maybe it’s not as impossible as I thought.”

She plowed on over his indrawn breath. “Not marriage. Not for a very long time, at least. I won’t put you in that position. But if you really do want to keep seeing me after we get back, I might be willing to give it a try for a while.”

He turned to look at her. His voice stayed quiet and grave. “I’d like that very much.”

“Okay.” Juanita’s breath came easier. “I’m sorry I said all those things. I’m sorry I accused you of only agreeing to sleep with me out of pity. I know it’s not true. I mean, it’s been pretty obvious right from the beginning that no matter how much you wanted to help me, that’s not all there was to it.”

“Not by a long shot.” He reached hesitantly for her hands, and she wrapped her fingers around his. “You affect me in ways no other woman ever has, Juanita. It would have been the same no matter how we’d met. I want to help you, but even more I want to know you. I want to spend time with you. I want to talk with you about stars and musicals and swimming and barbecuing and a million other things. Two more days is nowhere near long enough to do everything I want us to do together. I don’t think two more months will be, either. Or even two more years.”

His words fed the yearning deep in Juanita’s heart, but at the same time they terrified her. Her voice was shaky. “Let’s just take it one day at a time. There’s no need to rush into promises we might not be able to keep. It’s enough to agree that we want to be together now. Here. Tonight.”

“I want that.” He let go of one hand to reach up and stroke her hair. “Do you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

He smiled at her, warm and breathless, the skin around his eyes crinkling in the way she loved so much. Then he drew her toward him, sliding one arm around her waist and the other hand to the back of her neck. She yielded to his pull, pressing her body into his, wrapping her arms around him and tilting her face up. The kiss that for a few terrible hours she’d been sure she’d never feel again touched her lips, sending pleasure lancing through her body. She opened her mouth and reached for his tongue. It met hers in a rush of powerful sensation. She turned her hands loose to roam wherever they wanted, up to his shoulders and down to his buttocks, around to his chest and over his stubbled cheeks and into his hair. He stroked her hips and belly and breasts, drawing moans of pleasure and longing from her throat.

After a long, heady time exploring each other, he wrapped her in a crushing embrace. “Let’s go to our room. Otherwise I’m going to start yanking your clothes off right here, and I don’t think either of us would like it if someone walked in on us.”

“That would be embarrassing,” she agreed. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to separate from him far enough to move, yet. She laid her head on his chest and listened to his thudding heartbeat.

Ryan’s grip on her didn’t loosen. His voice rumbled in her ear. “In a minute.”

“Mm-hmm.” Juanita closed her eyes and soaked in his warmth.

She didn’t know how long they stood there. Eventually his voice came again, softer. “Look at Venus.”

She twisted in his arms until her back was pressed against him and followed his gaze. The planet touched the line where sky and sea met, dimmer than before, its light golden. “It’s going to set any minute now.”

“I think so.” His hands slid up to cup her breasts. “We don’t have to wait if you don’t want to.”

She rubbed her butt against the hard length pressing into it. “Do you?”

It took him a moment to reply. “Um. Maybe. As long as it doesn’t take too long.”

“All right.” She let her head fall back against his chest, keeping her eyes fixed on Venus and her body pressed tight to his. She rocked her hips in a slow side-to-side rhythm, rubbing against him. He slipped his hands under her shirt and caressed her nipples through the satin fabric of her bra. Need surged higher with every circle of his thumbs. She couldn’t bear to wait much longer, but at the same time she never wanted their slow, patient dance to stop.

Venus moved a fraction lower, then another. It dimmed as it descended. Both of them stilled, holding their breath. Juanita forced her eyelids to stay open, determined not to miss it.

One instant the planet was there, the next it was gone. Ryan’s indrawn breath echoed her own. The horizon stretched dark and unbroken.

Juanita rubbed her eyes. “I didn’t expect it to happen so fast. It just vanished.”

“I know.” Ryan sucked in a deep breath and blew it out. He stepped away from the rail and extended a hand to Juanita. “Let’s go.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Juanita grabbed his hand and practically dragged him back to the door.

Juanita would have run all the way down the corridor, but when Ryan slowed, so did she. No sense in drawing attention, or waking anyone who’d already gone to bed with noisy footfalls. Besides, when they wrapped their arms around each others’ waists, their bodies rubbed against each other in delightful ways as they walked.

Ryan fumbled to slide his card into the slot. Juanita relished the way his hands were shaking and clumsy. She couldn’t doubt he was as intensely aroused as she was. He wanted her the same way she wanted him, physical and urgent and immediate. There was nothing one-sided about this. He would take as much as he gave and give as much as he took. And so would she. There would be no losers tonight, only winners.

He flipped on the light and followed her in. The door made a satisfying click as it swung closed. Juanita pulled Ryan a few steps further, out of the cramped entryway to where the room opened up, and turned to wrap her arms around his neck.

He met her kiss with fierce demand. Juanita welcomed his tongue into her mouth and thrust hers deep into his. She slid her hands under his shirt and glided them over his body. He pulled away just long enough to yank his shirt over his head, then he was back in her mouth and his fingers were groping to unbutton her blouse. She pushed his hands away and did it herself, smoother and quicker than he could. He slid it off her shoulders and she pressed her deliciously bare skin into his.

She went for his belt next, pulling out the tongue and releasing the pin. He let her do it, though undoubtedly he could have managed it faster. She slowed a little to revel in the moment as she worked the button of his slacks loose and drew down the zipper. His breathing deepened and accelerated as she pushed them off his hips and they slithered to the floor. He stepped out and kicked them aside, muscles taut with anticipation. She made him wait a moment, running her hands over his hips and buttocks and down to his strong thighs, every contour and texture sending shivers of pleasure into her palms and fingertips. Finally, when he was panting hard in her ear, she laid a hand firmly and possessively on his erect penis.

He gasped and groaned, thrusting his hips forward. She ran her hand up and down, savoring the rigid length of him under the soft knit fabric of his boxer briefs. She pulled back a little to give him an appreciative glance. He looked every bit as good as he felt.

She stroked him some more as he fumbled with the waistband of her shorts. “I’m afraid it’s going to have to be just hands and mouths tonight,” she told him, brushing aside a wisp of disappointment. “I’ve been off the Pill since I was deported, and I know neither of us want to risk me getting pregnant.” Her shorts dropped to her feet and she stepped out. She flashed him a rueful smile. “Maybe tomorrow we can find some condoms. They must sell them somewhere on the ship. Although I expect they’re ridiculously expensive.”

“They are,” he said, his voice hoarse. He ran a hand down her side, over her hip, and along her thigh. Then he pulled reluctantly away and went to open a cabinet. He brought out a plastic bag bearing the Festival logo and rummaged inside. “I am so very okay with hands and mouths if that’s what you want. But I went shopping, so we’ve got these if we decide to use them.”

Juanita blinked at the box he held out. “When…?”

He deposited the condoms on the nightstand. “This afternoon, after I got back to the ship.” He switched on the bedside lamp, then detoured by the door to extinguish the overhead light.

“But—”

He shrugged with a sheepish look as he returned. “I know. I didn’t have much hope I’d get to use them, but a guy can dream, right?” He stroked her cheek and dropped his forehead to rest against hers. His eyes shone golden brown in the soft lamplight. “Although honestly, Juanita, what were the odds that we’d manage keep our hands off each other for two more whole days?”

“Pretty slim.” She wrapped her arms around him. “I’m glad neither of us held out very long.”

“So am I.” He kissed her, gently at first, then harder, and reached for the back of her bra. She sighed and flexed her shoulders when the hooks came loose. He slid the straps down her arms and dropped it on the floor, his eyes riveted to her breasts. His expression, dazzled and hungry, as if her body was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, sent warm waves of delight shivering through her. She watched his head descend and his mouth open, but when it closed over her nipple the rush of pleasure was so overpowering she had to squeeze her eyes shut and clamp her jaw to muffle the cry that would have rung through the thin walls. The strangled whimper that escaped might still be loud enough to disturb their neighbors, but she didn’t much care.

His tongue lavished attention on first one nipple, then the other, going back and forth until she was so mad with need she grabbed his hair and dragged his mouth back up to hers. She shoved her panties down and kicked them off, gasping as his hands cupped her buttocks with nothing between. She clung to him and pressed her body hard against his, grinding her hips into his still-trapped penis as she fumbled to free it.

Pulling the waistband of his underwear out to clear his straining shaft, she slid down his body, taking the fabric with her. She settled onto her knees and laid her cheek against his penis, relishing the softness of his skin and the hardness within, breathing his rich masculine scent. She ran her tongue up his length, caressed his head, and took him into her mouth. He gasped and jerked and tangled his fingers in her hair. She slid out and in, loving the way he filled her, loving the smooth slick slide of him on her tongue and lips.

Before she was ready to stop he pulled away with a deep groan and urged her to her feet. “This is going to be over much too soon if you keep that up.”

She laughed, delighting in her power over him and her ability to give him the same joy his touch gave her. “Then I guess it must be your turn.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He drew her to the bed and pulled the covers down. She climbed in and lay back, heart thudding with anticipation.

Ryan sat on the edge of the bed. He stroked her cheek and neck and breasts, his eyes drinking her in. She loved how she didn’t feel shy at all as his gazed traveled over her. She wanted him to see her. She wanted him to enjoy looking at her as much as she enjoyed looking at him. When his hand moved over her belly and onto her drawn-up thigh, she yielded to his light pressure and let her legs fall open.

He took his time, running his fingertips over her labia, gently spreading her folds, studying her with intent desire. Juanita closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling every delicate touch. Finally he moved up onto the bed and settled between her legs. His breath played teasingly over her. At last, warm and wet and firm, his tongue lapped up her and found the spot that sent a jolt of lightning shooting through her body.

Juanita cried out, no longer caring who heard. Ryan’s tongue massaged her, the pressure perfectly balanced between too light and too hard. Wave after wave washed over her. Her muscles tensed and strained. He brought her close, then backed off, leaving her whimpering with both frustrated desire and heightened need. Again he teased her, the pleasure of it growing so great she almost didn’t care when he eased back again. She would be perfectly happy to lie here and let him toy with her forever.

He quickened his pace and firmed his touch. Juanita moaned. The wave gathered and mounted toward its crest. Just when she thought nothing could ever feel more amazing, his fingers slipped inside her and rubbed with firm pressure in just the perfect place. The wave towered incredibly high, more intense than anything she’d ever felt before. It broke over her in a crashing, convulsing maelstrom of pleasure.

Ryan’s mouth moved to hers, muffling her scream. Juanita clung to him, panting, nearly sobbing. His solid weight covered her with deep, warm pressure. The wave receded, but ripples kept washing over her for long, lovely minutes. Ryan held her, not moving, while she savored them.

When she finally recovered enough to speak, she stroked his hair. “My god. That was incredible.”

“You’re welcome.” He grinned at her, pleased and a little smug. Juanita couldn’t even be annoyed. He’d earned it.

Energy surged through her. She pushed him off her and rolled him onto his back. He yielded willingly, only giving her an inquiring glance. “What do you want now?”

“You’ll see.” Juanita grabbed the box from the nightstand, tore it open, and extracted a condom, blessing the experience that had taught her how to make this fun and sexy instead of just a necessary chore. She pulled it out of its wrapper and tucked it into her hand as she returned her attention to Ryan.

She started at his mouth, but didn’t stay there long. She kissed and licked and sucked her way down his throat and chest and belly, lingering anywhere that drew a reaction. Ryan closed his eyes and drank in her touch, moaning and arching and stroking her back or shoulder or hair or anywhere he could reach. Juanita took her time enjoying the tight buds of his nipples under her tongue and the way he tensed and jerked when she caressed them. She nuzzled his taut abs and the springy hair around his navel. Finally, after approaching and withdrawing a few times to build his anticipation, she teased the tip of his penis with her tongue and slid it into her mouth. His hips bucked and his pulse beat against her lips. She gave him a several good strokes in and out, then pulled away. Taking him in one hand, she positioned the condom with the other and rolled it slowly, deliberately down. Once he was fully encased, she gave him a long squeeze and a lingering caress. Then she rose onto her knees and swung one leg across to straddle him.

He opened his eyes and their gazed locked. Juanita took a deep breath and lowered herself, guiding him into place with her hand. He slid into her, smooth and hard and deep. She swallowed and closed her eyes, reveling in the wonder of him inside her, filling her, joined with her in the most intimate possible way.

She leaned forward to kiss him, drawing herself up his length and sliding back down. His hips flexed, matching her rhythm, as his tongue drove into her mouth. Pleasure built in her again as he moved in and out. She tilted her hips so he hit the places that aroused her most, each thrust sending bursts of excitement through her body.

After a long, glorious time, Ryan pushed gently on her shoulder. She yielded, wrapping her legs around his waist so they stayed joined as he rolled them over. She twined them around his thighs as he drove into her. New sensations flooded her, sending her wave climbing. Faster and harder he moved, shaking her body and the bed. He bent and sucked her nipple into his mouth. The rush of pleasure tipped her over the edge, and another orgasm burst through her, heightened by the hard strokes of his penis. Just as her wave was ebbing, he cried out and stiffened. She clung to him with arms and legs as he jerked and trembled. Finally he collapsed, dropping his head onto her shoulder and breathing in great ragged gasps.

Juanita stroked his hair. She loved the way his weight pressed her into the mattress. She loved the way he felt inside her, starting to soften but for now still firm. She loved his hot breath on her chest and the way his orgasm had left him limp and drained. She loved everything about this moment. The man in her arms most of all.

Eventually he reached down and held the condom in place as he slid out. Giving her a lingering kiss, he rolled from the bed and headed for the bathroom. Juanita lay and breathed and savored the memory of him in her body. She’d always enjoyed sex, but this was different. Making love to Ryan felt… almost sacred, somehow. Although that was surely a blasphemous thought.

“Want me to bring you a washcloth?” He poked his head out of the bathroom door.

“No, that’s all right. I’ll get up. Thanks, though.” Juanita climbed from the bed and padded the few steps across the room, pausing to exchange a hug and kiss with Ryan as they passed. It only took a few minutes to clean up, and then she was sliding under the covers next to him, his arms wrapping her and drawing her close. She nestled against his side, warm and happy and drowsy.

He nuzzled her hair and stroked her back. “What do you want to do now?”

She hesitated. A yawn caught her, and she had to wait for it to pass to answer. By the time she could speak, she knew what to say. “I want to sleep, and then I want to do that again. As many times as humanly possible in the next two days.”

His fingers teased her cheek and ear. “Sounds like a plan.”

She nodded against his chest. “Although I suppose there are a few other things I want to do as well. I’d hate to miss supper in the dining room with Nancy and Dave. And the show tomorrow is going to be rock piano music, Billy Joel and Elton John and Jerry Lee Lewis. I want to play on the water slides some more and hang out in the hot tub. And you wanted me to try karaoke.”

He chuckled, the deep sound reverberating in his chest. “We’ll spend tomorrow and Friday having fun together. Whatever form that may take.”

Juanita didn’t want to say the rest, but she couldn’t help it. “And Saturday we’ll be back in Galveston. What do we do then?”

His arms tightened around her. “We don’t have to decide anything now. By that time we’ll both know better what we want. Why don’t we wait and talk about it Saturday morning over breakfast?”

“Deal.” The tenseness in Juanita’s stomach released. She already knew what she wanted, and she was pretty sure Ryan wanted the same thing. She just wasn’t sure it would be good for either of them.

Whatever. She wasn’t going to worry about it. She would enjoy the next two days with Ryan to the fullest. And the next two nights. By the end of that time, she’d know what she had to do. And she’d do it, with no regrets.

Chapter 15

Ryan woke with Juanita’s hair in his face, breathing the citrusy smell of her shampoo or whatever product she used, mixed with her own womanly scent. Even though the strands tickled his nose and stuck to his lips, he hated to brush them away. When he opened his eyes, the tousled waves glowed bronze in the sunlight streaming through a crack in the curtains. He’d never seen anything more beautiful.

Juanita rolled over to face him, and he had to revise his opinion. Her soft, sleepy face, with heavy-lidded eyes and pillowcase creases imprinted on one cheek, was more beautiful yet. So was the graceful sweep of her hand when it rose to rub her eyes and brush stray locks back from her temples. So was her body, when she yawned and stretched and the sheet slid off one breast. Ryan could very happily lay here and look at her all day.

She wasn’t going to let him, though. With a grin and a quick kiss, she bounced out of bed and headed for the bathroom, giving him a lovely view of her hips and buttocks swaying as she walked. He kept his eyes locked on her until she vanished through the door, then rolled onto his back, linked his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.

He no longer had any doubts. He wanted Juanita in his life. He didn’t care if it was too soon to call what he felt for her love. If it wasn’t yet, it was well on its way. He was going to do whatever it took to made sure the two of them could be together for the rest of their lives.

He’d have to go about it carefully, though. He knew Juanita felt the same way, but she was afraid. He was going to have to ignore every preconceived notion he had about what women wanted. If he tried to win her over with talk of love and commitment, no matter how sincere, he’d scare her away again.

It didn’t matter what most women would respond to. Juanita wasn’t most women. She was Juanita. Ryan needed to accept her for herself and tell her how he felt in the way that would make sense to her. He needed to listen to what she told him about her hopes and fears and desires.

She’d made it clear that right now she needed to consider this a no-strings-attached affair. Two days and nights of sex and play and companionship. He could give her that gladly. Hopefully by Saturday she’d come to trust him enough to think about moving on to the next step.

When she emerged from the bathroom, eyeing him with hungry speculation, he laughed and held up a hand as he scrambled to his feet. “At least let me get rid of the morning breath first.”

“As long as you’re quick about it.” She grinned and ran a hand over his shoulders and down his back, quirking her eyebrows when she saw how ready he was.

He didn’t need her urging to make him hurry. In only a few minutes he emerged to find her stretched on her side on the bed, covers shoved all the way down so they didn’t obscure a single inch of her beautiful body, eyes closed so she could pretend she hadn’t arranged herself for his benefit. He took the offered opportunity and stopped to give her a long, thorough look.

One arm was tucked under her pillow, the other flung in a graceful curve across the mattress. Her hair trailed over her breasts, making a filmy veil through which her pert nipples were clearly visible. Her top leg was drawn forward, knee bent, making one smooth line from the dip of her waist over her round hip and along the length of her thigh. Its angle demurely concealed the area between her thighs. As if he hadn’t looked and touched and begun what he devoutly hoped would be a long and intimate acquaintance with that part of her body last night. Her coyness was having just the effect he suspected she’d intended, though. He wanted to uncover her secrets, unwrap her like a present, delve beneath her lovely surface to her even more lovely depths.

His gaze returned to her face, to find her giving him an equally long, detailed look. He was already so erect he ached, but seeing her studying his penis, her mouth curved into a pleased, anticipatory smile, sent a fresh jolt of desire surging through him. When the tip of her tongue emerged and ran over her lips, leaving them glistening, he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He strode to the bed and grabbed her shoulders, pushing her onto her back and pinning her to the mattress as he climbed up and knelt over her. “You have something I want,” he growled.

“Come and take it, then,” she said, half inviting, half taunting. She pressed her legs tight together and crossed her arms over her breasts.

“I will.” Ryan maintained the pressure on her shoulders as he lowered his mouth to hers. She kept her lips closed as he ran his tongue along their seam. He licked and teased for a moment, then pushed harder. She resisted, her breath accelerating. He thrust between their tight, wet pressure. She moaned and sucked him deeper, her tongue wrapping around his and massaging it, sending surges of need pulsing through his body.

When she finally let him withdraw, he was panting. He was certain she was enjoying this game as much as he was, but just to be sure, he set his hands on her wrists and paused. “Open your arms so I can see your breasts and kiss them.”

“Make me,” she dared, lifting her chin and tensing the muscles in her arms.

“If you insist.” He wrapped his fingers around her wrists and applied gentle pressure. As he’d expected, she fought, struggling to keep her arms together as he pulled them apart. She panted and writhed as inch by inch he forced them out and down, until his hands pinned both her wrists to the bed.

He kept his eyes fixed on hers as he lowered his head toward her breasts. “What should I do now?”

Her chest rose and fell with her ragged breaths. She flashed him a quick smile, then scowled with exaggerated disdain. “Take what you won.”

He nodded without breaking their gaze and descended the rest of the way, licking first one nipple, then the other. She watched, transfixed, as he went back and forth, each time a little harder and a little longer. Eventually he sucked each nipple deep into his mouth and stroked it hard with his tongue while she moaned and twisted under him.

He kept it up as long as he could bear, but his body demanded he move forward. He pushed himself up, keeping her arms pinned. “Open your legs.”

She bit her lip and swallowed. “No.”

He released her wrists and set his hands on her knees. “Then I’ll open them.”

“You can try.” She pressed her knees tight together, her palms flat on the mattress.

He worked to pry them apart, but she was stronger than he expected. For long minutes she resisted as he applied more and more strength. Finally her knees crept apart. Careful not to hurt her, he levered them wide and pressed them to the bed, his pulse hammering as he stared down at what they revealed. Hoarsely, he said, “Tell me I can come inside you.”

She glared, proud and defiant. “You have overpowered me. I surrender to your superior strength. Take me, you magnificent beast.” One corner of her mouth quirked up, and she murmured, “But put a condom on first.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Ryan shook his head and released her knees to reach for the box. She watched him, her eyes dancing, her legs remaining spread. He forced himself to slow down and give her a show as he rolled the condom on, but the moment it was in place he lurched over her and pressed his mouth to hers as he thrust into her. “You’re mine,” he whispered into her lips, his body roaring with pleasure and need as hers enveloped him.

“Take me,” she whispered back. “Harder. As hard as you can.”

After that, he couldn’t have stopped if he’d wanted to. He thrust with wild abandon, striving with all his strength to give her what they both wanted. She wrapped her arms and legs around him and thrust back with equal urgency. Her fingers dug into his buttocks. She moaned, the pitch rising until she was crying out with every thrust. He held back as long as he could, but at last his control broke and his climax came in a wild surging rush. As it ripped through him, she screamed and convulsed, pulsing around him as he poured into her.

Spent, he sagged onto her. She clung to him, her gasps ragged in his ear. Gradually she let her legs slide down and her muscles relax. He didn’t want to crush her, but when he tried to lift his weight off her chest she pulled him back down, so he gave up and sank into her soft curves. He closed his eyes and floated in an inarticulate sated haze.

After a while she stroked his hair, bringing him back to the present. “That was amazing,” she whispered. “And fun. Thank you for understanding what I wanted and playing along.”

“Any time.” He pushed up on his elbows and brushed a few stray strands of hair from her face. “And thanks for reminding me about the condom. I almost forgot.” He grimaced. “Speaking of which…”

He reluctantly withdrew and went to clean up. When he came out, she was sitting up cross-legged on the bed, still naked, studying the schedule. “There’s brunch until one in the dining room,” she told him. “It’s only ten, so we’ve got plenty of time.”

“Good. I’m starving.” Ryan rummaged in his suitcase for clean clothes, choosing khaki cargo shorts and a plain brown t-shirt. Juanita cleaned up and dressed in a bright blue top and white shorts. Ryan surveyed the wreck they’d made of the bedcovers. Most of them were on the floor. He thought about at least piling them onto the foot of the bed, then shrugged and let them stay. If their cabin steward harbored any doubts about their act, this should allay them.

Not that it was an act anymore.

Ryan followed Juanita out the door and offered her his arm. She took it, and they strolled through the ship and rode down the elevator to the dining room. When the hostess asked, Ryan requested a private table. He always enjoyed chatting with their fellow passengers, but this morning was special, and he wanted to preserve the magical, shining bubble around himself and Juanita as long as possible.

She studied the menu, giving him frequent flirtatious glances over the laminated cardboard. “Eggs Benedict. That sounds wonderful. Although maybe I’ll have pancakes instead.”

“Get them both.” Ryan dropped his voice to a husky growl. “I’ll make you work off the calories.”

She giggled. “What are you getting?”

“The steak and eggs. I need to fuel myself up for what I strongly suspect is going to be a very long, tiring day. Judging by how it’s gone so far.”

“Poor thing. Did I make you work too hard before breakfast?” She reached across the table and patted his hand, running her fingers sensuously over it as she withdrew. “I’ll have to be more considerate from now on.”

“Don’t worry. The exercise is good for me.” He mimed curling a weight. “My trainer says I should get in at least three reps every day. Think you can help with that?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” she answered dutifully, laughter in her eyes. She looked like she was trying to think up a good double entendre in return, but at that moment the server arrived, so they reluctantly abandoned the banter and placed their orders.

While they were waiting for their food, they talked. The conversation wandered from topic to topic. Juanita told him about working with children and adults as an occupational therapist, and he told her about designing highways and bridges as a civil engineer. She told him more about the shows she’d performed in during high school and college, and he told her about the projects he’d undertaken to earn his Eagle Scout rank. She admitted a fondness for celebrity gossip programs, and he confessed his enjoyment of competitive cooking shows. They discovered a shared enthusiasm for baseball, and spent a good half an hour discussing the current fortunes and prospects of the Astros and their various college teams.

At some point their food arrived, and Ryan devoured his perfectly medium-rare steak and sunny-side-up eggs, trading bites for Juanita’s poached eggs in rich, silky Hollandaise sauce and pancakes drenched in melted butter and maple syrup. But their full mouths didn’t slow down the conversation much. One of them was always talking while the other chewed and swallowed. More than once Ryan realized he was speaking around a bite and had to break off so Juanita wouldn’t find his lack of manners disgusting. But she didn’t seem to care, and he caught her doing the same thing a few times without it bothering him in the slightest.

Long after their plates were empty they kept talking, the subjects ranging farther afield. Their political opinions mostly aligned, although there were a few differences that made for some spirited debate. Both of them avoided the topic of immigration. It was too personal for such a public setting. And besides, they each knew where the other one stood on the subject.

A politely cleared throat cut into Ryan’s impassioned defense of public spending on the arts. He looked up to find their server standing by their table. “Excuse me. I hate to interrupt, but we’re about to close the dining room.”

“I’m so sorry.” Ryan jumped to his feet. “We’ll get out of your way.” He extended a hand to Juanita and led her between empty tables and busily cleaning employees to the exit.

“I didn’t realize it was one already,” Juanita said.

Ryan checked his phone. “One fifteen, actually. They must have waited for us to quit being oblivious until they had no choice but to shoo us out. How would you like to spend the afternoon?”

She looked torn, but spread her hands sheepishly. “Actually, I’d really like to play on the water slides some more.”

“Sounds great to me.” In fact, it did. Not that he’d turn down more playing in bed, but they’d have plenty of time for that, too. In the meantime, water and wind and Juanita’s bikini-clad body bathed in sunlight sounded like a wonderful way to enjoy a few hours.

They managed to change into their swimsuits with only occasional lingering touches and a couple of pauses for kissing, although applying sunscreen could have easily led to more if Juanita hadn’t been so determined to get out to the water park. Ryan was pleased to see she’d lost her self-consciousness about the two-piece suit. At least, she didn’t make any move to put a t-shirt over it, and strode beside him through the ship with her towel slung casually over one shoulder.

Ryan loved every minute they spent laughing and playing together. He loved standing on the platform at the top of the highest slide, surrounded by vast ocean vistas, Juanita snuggled under his arm. He loved swooping and swishing down the the slides and Juanita’s childlike glee as she scrambled out of the water and raced to climb the stairs again. He loved relaxing in the hot tub afterward, Juanita reclining next to him, her hands taking liberties under cover of the screening bubbles and his stealing hidden caresses of her sleek skin.

They were enjoying themselves so much they arrived back at the room with only enough time left to get ready for supper. Tonight the dress was formal. Ryan took his shower first, wishing the tiny stall weren’t so cramped. Inviting Juanita to join him would prove more frustrating than enjoyable. As he went to the closet, she gave him a quick kiss on her way into the bathroom. “After you’re dressed, go out on the balcony. I don’t want you to see me until I’m completely ready.”

“Your wish is my command.” Ryan stroked her breast, slipping his fingers under the bikini top the way he’d been wanting to do all afternoon.

Juanita leaned into his touch with a longing sigh, then set her jaw and pushed him away. “We are not going to be late.”

“Okay.” He gave her nipple a final tweak before he withdrew. Her gasp made him hope she might reconsider, but she shook her head and marched into the bathroom with a look of determination.

Ryan dressed carefully and combed his hair using the mirror over the counter between the cabinets. He thought about shaving but decided against it. He was enjoying the break from his usual daily routine, and his blond stubble was just reaching a flattering length. After a final glance to make sure everything was in place, he grabbed his Kindle and sauntered out to the balcony.

Between thinking about Juanita and gazing at the cobalt ocean and orange-splashed sky, he didn’t do much reading. She took so long that he started to worry that they’d be late after all. But finally her muffled voice called for him to come back inside.

He stepped through the door and froze, arrested by the vision that met his eyes. Juanita looked like a goddess. She was wearing a dark red dress dusted with glittering crimson beads. A tantalizingly low neckline clung to her curves and a daringly high hem revealed her long, graceful legs. Sandals with delicate straps and tall heels enclosed her feet. She’d twisted a portion of her hair into a loose knot, while the rest cascaded around her shoulders. Tiny jewels shone in her ears. Ryan wouldn’t have thought it possible for makeup to enhance her natural beauty, but she’d managed it. Her deep eyes shone among smoky shadows, framed by thick lashes. Her lips glowed rich cinnamon, their slowly spreading smile revealing how much she enjoyed the effect she was having on him.

Ryan cleared his throat, but his voice still came out rough. “You look beautiful.”

Her eyes traveled appreciatively over his dark gray suit, crisply pressed white shirt, and subtly patterned blue tie. Her smile widened. “And you look quite incredibly handsome.”

He extended his arm. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to supper?”

“I would be delighted.” She took it, and he escorted her out of the room.

Photographers had set up stations all along the promenade deck. Ryan paused at one with a background of two deck chairs on a sandy beach, shaded by arching palm trees, blue ocean and bluer sky beyond. “Let’s get our picture taken.”

Juanita hesitated. “Do they charge for it?”

“Only if you buy prints.” Ryan fully intended to if the pictures came out well, but he didn’t have to tell her that. “Come on.”

Juanita responded to his urging and they took their places before the backdrop. The photographer posed them with Ryan’s arms around Juanita. Ryan held her tightly while the man took a flurry of shots. Then they moved on to another station with a picture of the Zephyr at night, lit by hundreds of glowing golden lights. The next featured black velvet curtains, and another had pots of flowering bushes. The photographers seemed to appreciate Juanita’s beauty almost as much as Ryan did, moving to catch her from every angle and snapping shot after shot. He hoped they gave a package discount on their pictures, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to pass any of them up.

Eventually they made it to the dining room. Many of the other passengers were also dressed formally, although some were casual. Juanita’s head turned constantly, taking in the dresses and suits, but Ryan only gave them the briefest of glances before returning his gaze to her.

Dave and Nancy were already seated at their table. Nancy raked them with an intent look, then broke into a broad smile. “Both of you look wonderful.”

Dave echoed the compliment. Juanita blushed and thanked them. Ryan pulled out her chair for her and she slid into it. He took the opportunity to admire the length of thigh her dress exposed and glance down her deep cleavage before pushing her chair in and going to his seat.

They studied their menus and discussed the merits of the various choices before both settling on salads, Juanita a kale caesar, Ryan a wilted spinach with bacon. For their entrees he chose the Chateaubriand, while she ordered the lobster. They chatted with Dave and Nancy about their days, although Ryan had to keep censoring his words to avoid revealing too much. He had a feeling he wasn’t fooling them, though. At least not Nancy. She kept giving them smug, knowing looks. She helped steer the conversation to innocent topics whenever it threatened to get too personal, which he appreciated.

Only once during the meal did things become uncomfortable. Nancy was telling them about their eldest daughter and their toddler grandson, who was apparently the brightest, sweetest, most adorable child in all of Texas, if not the whole United States. After the superlatives got so over-the-top even Nancy noticed, she grinned apologetically and spread her hands. “Listen to me ramble on. I’d love to hear about your families.” She turned to Juanita. “What about you, Carmen? Do you have any siblings?”

Ryan saw Juanita tense, but she spoke easily. “I have one older sister, Juanita.”

“Are you close? Do you get to see her often?”

“We’re very close.” Juanita chose her words carefully. “We haven’t seen each other much lately, but hopefully we will again soon, because she’s moving back to Houston after living in Mexico for a while.”

“Oh, that’s lovely.” Nancy beamed at her. “What took her to Mexico, and what’s bringing her back?”

Ryan wished he could step in and rescue Juanita, but it would seem strange for him to talk about her family. Besides, she was handling it well. She only hesitated for a moment before saying, “She was offered a job in Mexico City. It was a good opportunity for her, but now our mother is sick, so she wants to be closer to home.”

“I’m so sorry.” Nancy’s face flooded with concern. “What’s wrong? Although of course you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind.” Juanita stared at her plate for a second, then took a deep breath. “Mom has breast cancer. It first showed up nine years ago, and we thought she’d beaten it, but now it’s back. Her doctors say she only has a few months left.”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” Nancy reached over to pat Juanita’s arm.

“It’s all right. We’re all working on coming to terms with it.” Juanita swallowed. “Once Juanita gets home, it will be a lot better. Mom really wants to see her. It means a lot to her to have her family together.”

“Of course it does. You’re going to need each other for support. What about your father? Is he able to take care of her?”

“Yes, but his health isn’t great either, so there’s only so much he can do. We’ve got nurses that come to her house to take care of her, one during the day and one at night, plus one on weekends.” Juanita’s voice was starting to shake. “We bought them chocolate in Roatan.”

“How sweet of you to think of them.” Nancy hesitated a moment, then apparently decided not to ask whatever she was wondering, because she took a bite of lobster.

But Ryan suspected he knew. He reached for Juanita’s hand and clasped it, trying to convey compassion and support with his grip. “Carmen wanted to cancel our cruise after we found out, but her mother insisted we stick to our plans. She’s doing okay for the moment. Once we’re back in Houston, though, Carmen’s not going to leave her side.”

The crease on Nancy’s forehead smoothed away. “I would have said the same to any of my daughters. Your mother wants you to be happy. The best thing you can do for her is to live your life to the fullest.” She smiled at Ryan. “I bet she’s delighted that you’ve found such a good man.”

Juanita shot Ryan a panicked look. He squeezed her hand. “I hope so,” he told Nancy.

Again she hesitated, but this time decided to plunge forward. “You know, if the two of you are planning on getting married eventually, you should think about doing it while she’s still able to celebrate with you.”

Ryan didn’t look at Juanita, partly to avoid drawing Nancy’s attention to her expression, partly so he wouldn’t have to see what was surely a negative reaction. “We’re considering it,” he assured Nancy. “But we don’t actually know what our future plans are yet. Carmen thinks it’s too soon to talk about marriage, and I agree with her.”

“But not too—” Nancy broke off. “Sorry. It’s none of my business.” She gave Juanita a tender smile. “Tell your mother I’ll be praying for all of you.” She cut another bite of lobster. “Isn’t this lobster delicious? Can you tell what herb they put in the sauce? At first I thought it was sage, but now I’m getting notes of oregano.”

“I think it might be both,” Juanita said. “And there’s definitely some parsley in there, too.”

Ryan’s clenched stomach gradually relaxed as they continued chatting about the food. He took a big bite of his delicious beef as a convenient excuse to drop out of the conversation until he’d fully recovered his composure. Luckily the rest of the meal was spent talking about lighter matters.

He and Juanita both ordered melt-in-your-mouth cakes. He savored the expression of intense pleasure it brought to her face. She sucked and licked the chocolate from her spoon in blatant provocation. He teased her back a little, but he knew his reactions would be too strong for a public place if he fully entered into the game. Maybe she’d agree to skip the show and go straight back to their room.

He should have known better. Juanita kept up a running stream of commentary as they walked to the theater, speculating about which songs would be performed and hoping for her favorites. He savored her enthusiasm and enjoyed the way she snuggled against him once they took their seats. After the lights went down he took advantage of the darkness to let his hands wander, but she was so intent on the show he held back from distracting her much. He enjoyed the music too, but not as much as he enjoyed having her body touching his.

They went to the piano bar afterwards, requesting a few songs Juanita had wanted to hear that the show had skipped. When it closed down, they stopped by the nightclub. Juanita danced with joyous, sensual abandon. Watching her body and feeling it move against him drove Ryan to a fever of frustrated lust. He held out as long as he could, but finally pulled her tight against him, letting her feel how hard he was. “I want to go back to our room,” he whispered in her ear.

“I thought you’d never ask,” she murmured back. “What are we waiting for?” She danced across the packed floor, dragging him with her. They squeezed between couples and groups and singles until they finally made it to the exit.

They kissed in the elevator and walked hand in hand through the corridors. When they reached their room, Juanita headed straight for the balcony. Ryan took a moment to adjust the lights, turn down the covers, and set the box of condoms on the nightstand. He slipped one into his pocket, just in case. Then he joined Juanita outside. He leaned on the railing beside her and gazed out at the hypnotic motion of the waves.

She pointed at the horizon. “Venus has set already.” Her voice roughened. “We’ve been lovers for a whole day.”

“The best day of my life,” he told her, soft and serious.

“And mine.” She swallowed hard.

After a moment of silence, she spoke again, the teasing tone back in her voice. “I’ve got a secret.”

“You do? Are you going to tell me?”

“If you’re good.” She shot him a flirtatious glance, then looked back out at the ocean.

“Define ‘good.’” He leaned close and breathed into her ear, then ran his tongue along her earlobe, teasing the earring there. She turned to kiss him, and for a long breathless while they savored each other’s mouths. Ryan’s pulse rushed in his ears and he nearly forgot what they’d been saying. But when she drew back and gazed into his eyes, he remembered. “Was that good enough?”

“It was,” she agreed dreamily. She leaned close and whispered in his ear. “I’m not wearing any panties.”

A jolt of pure lust shot through Ryan. Before he could choke out a response, she added, “I haven’t been all night.” She twisted around and wiggled her butt against him.

He put his hands on the railing to either side of her. “Festival has a very stern warning on their website about not having sex on your balcony.”

She shrugged and wriggled some more. “They’re not going to find out.”

“Other people might be outside, too.” He looked to either side and up and down, where rows and columns of balconies surrounded them, separated only by thin partitions.

“I don’t see anyone. Do you?”

“Down there.” He nodded to a place far below and to the side where some hands were visible on a railing.

“We’ll just have to be quiet, then.”

He was going to explode if he couldn’t have her right now. But caution made him try one more time to discourage her. “Can you do that?”

“If I have to. You can put your hand over my mouth if you think I’m going to make noise.”

That was too much. Ryan fumbled with his pants. It had never taken so long to get belt and button and zipper undone. But finally he was free. He drew up the back of Juanita’s dress and rubbed against the bare round swells of her buttocks. She let out a voiceless breath and moved her legs apart, pushing back against him. Her heels brought her to just the perfect height. He pulled the condom from his pocket and put it on while she gave a soft, approving hum. Then Juanita braced against the railing and he slid into her. Her inhale carried just a hint of sound.

“Quiet,” he warned, easing back and thrusting forward. He moved one hand down to fondle her clit. This time her gasp included a distinct moan.

“All right,” he said, and raised the other hand to her mouth. “If you need me to move it, just shake your head.”

She nodded as his hand pressed into her lips. She rocked against him, moaning into his muffling palm as he stroked her within and without. The wind cooled their hot, damp skin and ruffled their hair. The dark, flashing ocean stretched before them and the glittering stars arched above.

Release came swiftly for both of them. Juanita gave a strangled cry and bit down on his finger. Ryan orgasmed hard and long, holding her tight as his hips jerked and washes of pleasure consumed him. They both stood panting, heads drooping. Juanita shifted forward and Ryan slid free with a final twinge of nearly painful pleasure.

He went to clean up, then undressed while she took her turn, taking the time to hang up his suit neatly so it wouldn’t wrinkle. He climbed into bed and watched her as she slipped out of her dress and hung it up, then removed her bra and came to join him, gloriously naked.

“Do you usually sleep nude?” he asked, pausing before he reached to switch off the lamp. “You wore pajamas before.”

“Only because you were here. When I’m alone I prefer not having cloth to get tangled up around me.” She curled against his side. “Or when I’m with someone I trust.”

Ryan nodded, not daring to say anything that might draw her attention to what she’d just said. He wrapped his arms around her. She settled against him with a contented sigh.

He hoped it was really true, and not just an idle expression. He wanted Juanita to trust him. He wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

Their time together was slipping away like water through his fingers. He had one more day to persuade her to continue their relationship after they made it through customs. Otherwise she would slip away too, as impossible to hold as the ebbing tide.

Chapter 16

Ryan wouldn’t tell her where he was taking her after brunch, but he strode from the dining room with purposeful steps, so Juanita went along without argument, curious to see if there was any portion of the ship they hadn’t explored yet. Besides the casino, which was so choked with cigarette smoke she insisted they go out onto the deck to bypass it whenever they were walking from one end of the promenade deck to the other.

She yawned. She’d woken Ryan for another round of lovemaking in the middle of the night, and they’d enjoyed a long, lazy session that morning as well. She was a little embarrassed by her appetite, but Ryan gave no indication he thought she was excessively demanding. And she couldn’t help it. She craved him with a hunger that would never be satisfied, no matter how many incredible orgasms he gave her or how long he spent inside her body. She had to stuff herself full of as much of him as she could hold. Now, while she had the chance.

He was pretending he’d given up on continuing their relationship once they got home, but she knew he hadn’t. His talk of marriage hadn’t been just for the sake of helping her get legal status. It was what he wanted. He’d wait until a decent amount of time had passed to propose, but his feelings weren’t going to change.

Neither were Juanita’s. She’d marry him in a minute if it were only her own future at stake. She couldn’t imagine anything she’d love more than spending the rest of her life with him.

But she had to face facts. She was an illegal alien. Ryan was committing a felony by helping her get back into the US. Every minute they remained together after she was safely through customs put him at greater risk. The only way she could protect him from the arrest and prosecution that would follow if the government ever found out what he’d done was to stay as far away from him as possible. She was going to make up a detailed story of paying a coyote to smuggle her across the border to have ready if they ever caught her. That way they wouldn’t have any reason to suspect Ryan.

But as long as he continued to harbor her, he’d continue to be guilty of aiding and abetting a criminal. She couldn’t let him make himself vulnerable that way. She couldn’t let her inevitable discovery lead the authorities to him. Because of course it was inevitable. She only hoped it would take them a few months to find her, so she could be with Mom until the end.

Ryan would never agree to leave her for his own benefit. So she was going to have to convince him she didn’t want him anymore. She was going to have to break off their relationship firmly, with no room for him to argue. He wouldn’t continue to pursue her if he believed her rejection was real. It would take a performance worthy of an Oscar, and it would shatter her heart into a million pieces, but she had no choice. She’d rather suffer forever than see him go to prison for her sake.

On that note of resolve, they reached what was apparently their destination. Ryan pushed open the door to the spa that filled three levels at the front of the ship. “Here we are.”

Juanita hung back. “Isn’t everything they do here crazy expensive?”

“Yes, but I decided I wanted a massage anyway. And I didn’t want to leave you wandering around the ship alone for a couple of hours. Someone might notice how incredibly hot you are and try to steal you away from me. So I booked us a couple’s massage.” He pointed at her as she opened her mouth to protest. “Nope. No argument. This is entirely for my own selfish pleasure. If you happen to enjoy it too, that’s just a lucky side effect.”

“Baloney.” But she followed him through the door. It wasn’t worth either a real curse or a fight she wouldn’t win. It was his money. If he wanted to drop a few hundred dollars on her while lying about it, that was his choice. He would get the benefit of half of it, even if he never would have opted to spend it this way if not for her. And she’d always wanted a massage.

The receptionist directed them down a hallway to a room lit only by candles, with instructions to remove their clothing and lie down on the two padded tables. Juanita stripped and hung her clothes on the provided hooks. She cast a longing glance at Ryan’s bare body, but climbed onto her table without pausing to give him even a quick caress. She didn’t know how long it would be before the massage therapists came in, but she wasn’t going to get caught standing around naked.

The table was covered with a cool white sheet, with another folded at the foot. She climbed onto it and pulled the sheet over her, then turned over to lie face down. A padded opening at the head of the table accommodated her face comfortably, letting her keep her neck straight while still being able to breathe. She closed her eyes and listened to the soft instrumental music coming from hidden speakers, a little tense despite the soothing atmosphere.

The two massage therapists slipped in and introduced themselves in quiet voices, explaining what they were going to do in such a calming way that Juanita quickly lost all nervousness. The woman went to her feet while the man went to Ryan’s. They both oiled their hands, folded the sheets back from their legs, and went to work. The woman’s skillful hands expertly kneaded the tension from Juanita’s muscles. It felt wonderful, sensual without being sexual, warm and strong and profoundly relaxing. Juanita let herself fall into a dreamy haze of enjoyment.

After thoroughly working over Juanita’s feet and legs, the woman moved to her back and shoulders. Then she had Juanita flip over and gave attention to her arms and face and scalp. Every now and then Juanita peeked over at Ryan, who was getting the same treatment. But mostly she lay with her eyes closed and hoped it wouldn’t end anytime soon.

Finally, after the woman applied hot stones and steamy towels and fragrant aromatherapy oils, she told Juanita to relax as long as she liked before dressing, bid her farewell, and slipped from the room. Ryan’s therapist told him the same thing and followed.

Juanita rolled her head to the side and found Ryan looking back at her. He gave her a lazy smile. “What did you think?”

“It was wonderful.” She pushed the sheet back, stretched, and sat up.

“I agree. Well worth the price.” He climbed off his table and reached for Juanita. She slipped down and he enfolded her in a warm embrace.

Too soon he released her. “Much as I’d like to see whether they really meant it when they said we could stay as long as we want, we’d better get dressed.”

“Yeah.” Juanita went to retrieve her clothes and pull them on. She wasn’t quite bold enough to sneak a quickie in a place that, if not really public, wasn’t exactly private either.

When they emerged from the spa, Juanita took the steps up to the adults-only deck at the very top of the ship. She led Ryan among the sparsely occupied deck chairs until she found what she wanted. A round wicker canopy arched over a double lounger, as big as a bed and piled with pillows. She arranged them so she could recline with a good view of the ocean and stretched out. Ryan settled next to her and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her head on his chest with a contented sigh.

For a long time neither of them said anything. Lulled by the warm sunlight and cool breeze, Juanita drifted into a light doze. She wished this moment never had to end. She could be perfectly happy lying here beside Ryan forever, while the sun rose and set and the years rolled past and they both grew old and gray.

She opened her eyes to find Ryan looking down at her, eyes golden in the sunlight. He tenderly brushed a loose strand of hair out of her face. Impulsively, because it was true and because she couldn’t leave it unsaid for one moment longer, she whispered, “I love you, Ryan.”

He swallowed and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he leaned his forehead to touch hers. “I love you, too, Juanita.” His voice cracked, whether from joy or grief she couldn’t tell. Both of those emotions and a thousand others swirled together in her heart. She nodded and pulled his head down to her chest.

The sun slid down the western sky. Eventually it set in a blaze of scarlet and tangerine. Twilight stole over them. The wind cooled and stars appeared overhead. Juanita’s stomach rumbled, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t going to let him go until she had no other choice.

Finally Ryan pulled away and sat up. His rueful expression mirrored what she was feeling. “Much as I wish we could stay here all night, I’m hungry and it’s starting to get a little chilly. Shall we go to supper?”

She reluctantly climbed to her feet. “We can’t miss our last meal.”

He came around and took her hand. “That sounds so final. It’s not like we’re being executed in the morning.”

“We’re not?” She dismissed the comment with a wave before he could react. “Do we need to stop by the room first?” She ran her fingers through her hair. It didn’t seem excessively windblown.

“You look fine.” His long, slow glance held all the sexual desire she could have wished, but also a deep tenderness that made her stomach flip and quiver.

“So do you,” she said lightly and pulled him toward the stairs. “Good thing. We’ve barely got time to go straight there.”

She wouldn’t have traded the hours they’d spent cuddling for anything, but when they passed the water slides, she realized with a lurch that they’d missed their last opportunity to play there together. They’d never bask in the bubbling warmth of the hot tubs again. They’d never play board games or cards in the library. They’d never return to the ropes course or have their miniature golf rematch. One more dinner, one more show, one more evening dancing or singing along at the piano bar, one more night of lovemaking, and it would all be over.

Juanita shoved the knowledge down and buried it at the bottom of her mind. She wouldn’t let grief spoil the brief time they had left. But it kept escaping and smacking her when she least expected it. When Dave and Nancy greeted them, and they all pulled out their phones to exchange e-mail addresses. When the menu listed three different appetizers she wanted to try, and Ryan talked her into ordering all of them by reminding her that it was her last chance to be so carelessly extravagant. When she ordered melt-in-your-mouth cake for dessert even though she was stuffed, because she’d never get to taste it again. When Ryan gave Emil a big tip and thanked him for his attentive service. When Dave shook their hands and Nancy hugged them both with tears in her eyes and wished them a happy future.

The show was a lighthearted romp through the cities of the world. Ryan hummed along and clapped enthusiastically and whispered approving or critical reactions in Juanita’s ear. She did her best to respond, but it was hard to get past the knowledge that London and Tokyo and Rome and Bangkok and Sydney and Cairo and Paris and all the rest were closed to her forever, as inaccessible as if they were on another planet.

Afterwards, all she wanted was to retreat to their room and lose herself in sex, but Ryan tugged her toward a lounge they hadn’t yet visited. “This is our last chance to sing karaoke. Come on, I know you’ll like it.”

Because he was so insistent, and because she really did want to give it a try, she agreed. When they went in, the singing was already underway. A woman stood in a clear space ringed by chairs and low tables, clutching a microphone and staring at a screen in front of her. Instruments and background vocals began playing, and she launched into the first verse of “Rolling in the Deep.” Juanita listened as she settled into a seat next to Ryan, nervously wondering whether she dared go up there and give it a try. The woman’s voice wasn’t bad, although she drifted flat occasionally and breathed in awkward places. The audience seemed friendly. They listened attentively and responded eagerly, ignoring the singer’s lapses and breaking into enthusiastic applause when the song drew to a close.

When she sat down, a group of teenagers got up, laughing and acting silly. They belted out a horribly off-key rendition of “Sweet Caroline.” The audience ate up their antics, many people singing along. Juanita’s fears eased. She might not be great, but she could certainly do better than that.

Ryan went up to a table at the front and returned with a big notebook. “These are the songs they have available.”

Juanita flipped through the long, alphabetically ordered list, scanning the titles. It seemed like every song she recognized was either a heartfelt love song or a bitter break-up lament. She didn’t think she could handle either of those. The few she spotted that appealed to her were either low bass or screechy soprano in range. She got to the end and started working back toward the beginning.

“Want to do a duet?” Ryan whispered over a man singing “Achy Breaky Heart.”

“Sure.” Finally Juanita spotted a song she thought would work. The bleak lyrics fit her mood without being specifically about love or its loss. “How about ‘Dust in the Wind’ by Kansas? I sing along whenever I hear it on the radio.”

“Perfect. I’ll go sign us up.” Ryan reclaimed the notebook and headed back to the table at the front.

Juanita nearly chickened out several dozen times while they waited for their turn. A woman belted a masterful rendition of “You Make Me Feel Like a Natural Woman” that brought the audience to its feet, hooting and cheering. A skinny boy who couldn’t have been more than fifteen opened his mouth and a rich, deep bass emerged, singing “I Walk the Line.” A group of women with drinks in their hands had a blast harmonizing on “Mamma Mia.” But between those high points were enough enthusiastic but mediocre performances to reassure Juanita. She and Ryan might not stand out as stars, but they wouldn’t make fools of themselves, either.

Finally the announcer called their names. Juanita clutched Ryan’s hand and forced her legs to carry her forward. This was just like opening night of a new show, she told herself sternly. A few bars into the music her fear would drain away and she’d be fine.

Sure enough, as Ryan’s voice joined hers on the opening lines, her racing heart steadied. She sucked in air for breath support and concentrated on making the notes strong and smooth. On the second verse, Ryan dropped to sing harmony below her melody, and the beauty of the music they were making drove everything else out of her heart.

Instead of falling silent during the instrumental break, Juanita crooned along with the soaring strings. Ryan joined in, taking the counterpoint. Their voices twined together, weaving up and down, improvising wordless chords so gorgeous they brought tears to Juanita’s eyes.

As their voices soared together on the final verse, Juanita found odd comfort in the bleak lyrics. Only earth and sky were eternal. Everything else faded away. Clinging to the present was useless, for nothing could stop the relentless progression of time. The wind carried off life and love, joy and sorrow, hope and despair, and all you could do was open your hands and let them go.

Ryan’s arm went around her waist as they let the final note trail away to silence. The crowd was still for a breathless second, then broke into applause. To Juanita’s ear it sounded genuinely appreciative. She smiled at Ryan, trying to put everything she couldn’t say into her gaze. His eyes were deep and his expression tender. She knew he understood.

They returned to their seats and listened to a few more songs, but when Ryan looked at her questioningly and tilted his head toward the door, Juanita nodded. They slipped out and made their way through the quiet corridors to their room.

Both of them were subdued as they got ready for bed. Juanita took all but one sundress off the hangers and packed them in her suitcase. Her shoes fit around the edges, stuffed with unworn underwear and socks. Dirty clothes took up one whole side. She retrieved Carmen’s bikini from the bathroom. Maybe her sister would let her keep it. Juanita had gotten used to having her tummy bare.

Ryan pulled their purchases out of the cabinets and spread them on the bed, sorting them into two piles. Juanita tucked the presents for her family among her clothes. Once everything was divided, Ryan packed his items. He insisted Juanita take one of the bottles of rum that had been returned to their room, and more than half of the chocolate. Finally he pressed the vase into her hands. “You take this. I don’t have room in my suitcase. And it belongs to both of us, so it doesn’t matter who packs it.”

Juanita stroked the beautifully patterned ceramic. She wanted to protest, but couldn’t without bringing up things that they’d agreed to wait until morning to discuss. “Okay.”

She wrapped the vase in a t-shirt and squeezed it into the center of her suitcase where it would be well protected. She’d find a way to put it with his things tomorrow, hopefully without Ryan noticing. He’d paid for it, so he should be the one to keep it. It could remind him of her and the few precious days they’d spent together.

Ryan swiped his phone’s screen. “What time do you want me to set an alarm for? We have to be out of our cabin by eight, but they’re only serving breakfast in the dining room until eight thirty.”

“Set it for six thirty, and we’ll plan to eat at seven thirty.” So early. When they woke, the ship would already be docked in Galveston.

“Got it.” Ryan set his phone on the bedside table and watched her pack the last few things she wouldn’t need in the morning. She hoped the suitcase would close. Half the stuff Carmen had packed Juanita hadn’t touched.

Finally she pulled off her clothes, rolled them up, and added them to the dirty items. She took a final long look around the room, decided there was nothing more she could do that night, switched off the light, and slid into bed beside Ryan. He turned off the lamp, and darkness enveloped them.

Juanita snuggled into his body, pressing every inch of her skin she could into his. His strong arms encircled her and held her close. She listened to his heartbeat, slow and steady. She wasn’t going to think about endings. She was going to try not to think at all. Only feel and be.

Eventually they started to move, gentle strokes and slow, aching caresses. Only deep breaths and soft sighs disturbed the night’s silence. Juanita worked to memorize her lover’s body, every surface and angle and crease of him, every scent and flavor and texture. His long, deliberate touches and lingering kisses told her he was doing the same.

He was so dear to her. She was so glad she’d met him, so profoundly grateful he’d become a part of her life. Nothing could ever change the fact that it had happened. These few days were real, a moment fixed in space and time, a truth that would always be a part of the universe. They would remain eternally at the heart of her life, no matter how long it might endure. Knowing Ryan had changed her profoundly. Like a butterfly who’d emerged from its chrysalis, she had neither the ability nor the desire to go back to what she’d been before.

Finally, when neither of them could bear to remain separate any longer, he moved on top of her and slid inside. She held him to her heart, rocking with him in a slow, primal rhythm. For a long, long time they breathed together, in and out, soaking in the joy of their union.

At last, though, their bodies could no longer be denied. Juanita quit calming the storm and let it build, high and hot and sweet. It burst like a summer shower, drenching her with sparkling, rushing floods. Ryan followed like thunder after lightning, pouring into her in a long, deep rumble. They floated together on the sunlit ocean until the last rays faded into starlit night.

Chapter 17

Ryan waited until after they’d placed their breakfast orders to broach the subject. He dreaded what Juanita would say, but it couldn’t be put off any longer. “Juanita, I think you know that I would very much like to continue our relationship after today. I don’t care if it’s casual or serious. I don’t know where it will take us. I just know I want you to stay part of my life.” He swallowed. “If that’s what you want, too.”

She clutched her glass of orange juice, staring at it as if the secrets of the universe were contained in its sunny depths. Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Ryan, this cruise has been amazing. I’ve loved every minute we’ve spent together. If things were different, I would accept gladly.” She took a deep breath and swallowed. “But they’re not.”

He’d feared that would be her answer, and was ready with countering arguments. “I don’t care about whatever minor risk I’m taking by staying in touch with you. Once we and Carmen get through customs, there’s practically zero chance Immigration will find you. But even if they do, I want to be at your side through whatever happens. That’s my choice to make. I don’t need you to protect me.”

She raised her glass to her lips and took several deep gulps. Long seconds passed before she set it down again. “I’m not protecting you. I’m protecting me. If Immigration ever does figure out what we did, it will lead them straight to you. If we’re still in touch, even a little bit, you’ll lead them to me.” She clenched her fists. “I’m not willing to take that risk. I’ll do anything to avoid being arrested and deported again. Even give you up.”

Her words stabbed like a rapier through his heart, but he couldn’t argue with them. He knew how deeply her experience had traumatized her. He knew how much she feared its repetition. And he couldn’t pretend her fear was unrealistic. What she’d described wasn’t terribly likely, but it could happen.

Which meant he had no choice but to accept her decision.

He reached for her tensely balled hand and stroked it. “And I’ll do anything to keep you safe.” He swallowed. “Even give you up.”

She nodded. “Thank you.”

Heartbreak was calmer than he’d imagined. Ryan felt empty and numb, but also strangely at peace. He pulled his hand back. “So how are we going to handle things after we leave the cruise terminal? Carmen and I drove together to Galveston in my car. Her car is parked at your mother’s house, along with yours. The plan was that I would drive you there, and you would stay with your parents for a while. Until you find a new place. Or until…” He spread his hands.

Juanita nodded. “I would appreciate it if you give me a ride. Or I can get an Uber. Whatever’s convenient for you.”

“I don’t have any plans for the rest of today. There’s no need for you to spend your money when we’re both going the same way. Your parents’ house is only about twenty minutes from my apartment.”

She chuckled wanly. “Practically next door.”

She fell silent. Ryan tried to think of something else to say, but couldn’t. Luckily their food arrived before the quiet grew too oppressive.

They ate quickly, then returned to their room to retrieve their suitcases. Ryan made a final circuit to be sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. The room was as bare and sterile as it had been when he and Carmen had first entered it. This afternoon someone else would be moving in. They’d have no clue how much joy and tragedy had taken place within these walls.

They rolled their suitcases to their assigned waiting area on the promenade deck. After only a short wait, the tenth floor was called to disembark. Ryan flashed Juanita an encouraging grin, although his heart was pounding. “Here we go. Remember, no one has any reason to suspect anything. You look more like the picture on Carmen’s driver’s license than she does. Give the customs official a bored, patient smile and think about what a pain in the ass going through this whole stupid rigmarole is.”

She nodded, not smiling, but looking a lot more composed than he’d expected. He’d been concerned she would revert to the panicked terror she’d exhibited in Cozumel, but that clearly wasn’t going to be a problem.

Instead, the terror seemed to have found a home in Ryan’s chest, along with the panic. What if they were wrong? What if customs officials were chosen for their ability to spot minuscule differences in people’s faces? What if they were trained to pick up the subtlest signs of guilt? What if Juanita’s cool demeanor passed inspection, but his panting, sweating, trembling agitation triggered their suspicions?

He managed to keep himself under control while they rode the elevator to the atrium, shuffled through the exit with the rest of the crowd, and rolled their suitcases down the long, enclosed ramp that bridged the space between the ship and the cruise terminal. Everyone made their way through the drab concrete interior of the building, across the big open space where those who’d checked their luggage could reclaim it from the vast array of suitcases ranged in neat lines, to where signs hanging from the ceiling and stripes painted on the floor directed them to stand in line and wait to pass through customs.

It was going to take a while. Several hundred people were ahead of them, the line winding back and forth through the large hall as if they were at an amusement park, waiting to board a ride. Ryan’s heart was hammering as hard as if the Texas Titan rose ahead instead of a brief, cursory inspection.

Juanita glanced at him, then back at the line. “Makes me miss Astroworld,” she commented.

He laughed, startled. “I was just thinking that this reminded me of a line for a roller coaster. Although I was imagining Six Flags Over Texas.”

She grimaced. “I’ve never been there. But we had a season pass to Astroworld one summer when I was little. Mom would take us on weekdays when it wasn’t so crowded and we’d ride every ride four or five times in a row. I was just a tiny bit too short to be allowed on the best coasters, so I made her buy me some sandals with really thick soles so my head would reach the mark on the measuring stick.”

Ryan chuckled. “Why am I not surprised? We went a lot when I was young, too, before they closed the park. Greezed Lightnin’ was my favorite ride.”

Her face lit up. “I loved that one! The Texas Cyclone was better, though.”

Talking about what they remembered kept them occupied while the line shuffled slowly forward. They were nearly halfway to the front when they ran out of Astroworld memories and Ryan switched to describing various Six Flags rides to a fascinated Juanita. He wished he could take her there and ride every one at her side. At least there was a good chance she’d get to visit the park eventually.

Maybe, someday, a few years from now perhaps, when she’d remained undiscovered long enough that she lost the fear—

No. He couldn’t allow himself to think about that. He couldn’t put his life on hold for the slim chance of a reunion. And more importantly, he couldn’t ask her to wait for him. She needed him to grant her the freedom to move on.

Juanita started telling him about Sea World in San Antonio, where she’d gone on a church trip in high school. He countered with memories of summer visits to Schlitterbahn in New Braunfels. They were so busy talking he didn’t notice how far they’d moved until a terminal employee cleared her throat to get their attention. She directed them to one of a dozen parallel lines. Each led to a separate customs station. Less than ten people stood between them and the head of the line.

Neither Ryan nor Juanita restarted the conversation. Ryan reached for Juanita’s hand, and she clutched his. Together they peered ahead and studied the procedure they were about to go through.

The line stopped at a yellow mark on the concrete. A man in uniform was stationed inside a booth with plexiglass-topped walls, about ten feet farther on. He beckoned the passengers forward by family groups. One at a time, each person passed him their ID. He took it, typed something into a computer, then looked carefully back and forth between the picture and the person’s face. Once satisfied, he passed the driver’s license or passport back and repeated the process with the next traveler.

Ryan felt dizzy. His heart hammered. His cheeks flushed hot, then cold. He desperately wanted to grab Juanita’s hand and flee, shoving through the waiting crowd. There was nowhere for them to go, but he didn’t care. He just needed to escape.

Why the hell had he ever agreed to this? It wasn’t going to work. The official would take one glance at Carmen’s picture and realize it wasn’t Juanita. He’d sound the alarm and police would pour in. They’d surround Juanita and grab her and slap her in handcuffs. They’d haul her to a police car and drive away with sirens blaring. They’d throw her into a cold, bare cell. They’d shove her onto an airplane and she would fly out of the country, away from her home, away from her family, away from her life. Away from him.

The customs official beckoned. The family in front of them, a couple with four children ranging from a toddler to a teen, walked up to the booth. Juanita tugged him, and Ryan stumbled forward until the yellow line on the concrete lay before his toes. It yawned like a canyon, an unbridgeable gulf he was about to tumble into and fall until he smashed into bloody pulp on the rocks below—

Juanita squeezed his arm hard, yanking him back to reality. He realized he was gasping. He shook his head and fought to control his ragged breaths, with little success.

She was pale and tight-lipped, but composed. He had to get over his panic for her sake. Otherwise any minute she’d lose it too, and they’d both be doomed.

Juanita pressed close and put her mouth to his ear. “Ryan. Remember Thursday night, on our balcony?”

The memory burned through his fear like a laser beam. Juanita leaning over and gripping the rail, dress hiked up around her waist. Him behind her, buried deep in her sweet body. The ocean and sky and stars all around…

“How could I forget?” he managed to whisper.

She gave him a strained grin and brushed a hand down the flowered fabric of her sundress. “I’m not wearing panties now, either.”

A jolt of arousal lanced through him. “Oh,” he choked out.

“When he asks for my driver’s license, I want you to come up behind me and lift my dress and open your fly and slide inside me. Right there with everyone watching.”

He stared at her, shocked and horrified and unbearably titillated. “You can’t be serious.”

Her expression turned rueful. “I’m not. Unfortunately.” She heaved a sigh. “But that’s what I’ll be thinking about while I’m standing there with him looking at me.”

Ryan blinked, but the image refused to be dislodged from his mind’s eye. His tongue felt thick and slow. “I guess that’s a good idea. A distraction from—”

The family at the booth grabbed their suitcases and trooped away. The official waved them forward.

Juanita gave Ryan a serious look, then walked forward with steady steps, pulling her suitcase behind her. Ryan followed. He wanted to glare at the official with all his hostility for the government that had done this to Juanita in his eyes, but he forced himself to glance down at Juanita’s swaying hips instead. The smooth fall of her dress, not a panty line in sight, suggested she’d told him the truth.

Juanita calmly pulled her wallet from the leather purse Ryan had bought her in Cozumel and extracted Carmen’s driver’s license. She passed it to the customs official and met his intent stare with a relaxed, level gaze. Only a slight increase in the rate of her breathing betrayed any agitation. Ryan wondered if it came from fear or from the erotic fantasy she was imagining.

Probably some of each.

The official looked down at Carmen’s license, then back up at Juanita. Down again, and up. Down a third time.

Ryan’s gut knotted. It was over. They’d been caught. Time slowed to a crawl. With cool deliberation he planned his strategy. He would shout and fight and raise as much of a commotion as he could. He’d yell at Juanita to run. If she was fast and his distraction was dramatic enough, perhaps she could vanish into the crowd and escape before they pursued her.

The official passed Carmen’s license to Juanita. She accepted it with a polite nod and stepped aside. Ryan’s feet carried him forward automatically. With stiff, robot-like motions he pulled his wallet from his pocket, produced his driver’s license, and handed it to the official.

The man turned to type on his keyboard, then back to look at Ryan. Ryan tried to recall Juanita’s provocative image, but instead his thoughts went back to their first night together. He imagined Juanita on her knees before him, her mouth around him, her sliding tongue setting him aflame…

The official’s eyes went down, then up, then down again. He squinted at Ryan, once more at his license, then stuck his hand out. Ryan took his license and tucked it back into his wallet. The official jerked his head, and Ryan gripped the handle of his suitcase and walked to join Juanita. Side by side, they rolled their suitcases away from the customs station.

“We did it,” she whispered.

He nodded, too limp with relief to reply. They followed the signs and the guidance of terminal employees toward the exit.

Ryan recovered his wits enough to pause before they passed through the glass doors. He turned toward a counter at the side of the hall. “I have to declare the rum.”

“Okay.” Juanita waited to one side while he filled out the form and paid the tax. Then she grabbed his hand and they emerged into a chilly breeze under an overcast sky. It looked like it might drizzle at any moment, but Ryan didn’t care. They were free. Juanita was safe. He’d brought her home.

Juanita glanced at him and giggled. She looked as dazed as Ryan felt. “Where’s your car?”

“Parked in one of the lots. There’s a shuttle.” He looked around and spotted a cluster of people waiting to board the short bus. They joined the line. There wasn’t room for them on the first shuttle, but they crowded into the next. Juanita claimed a seat, and Ryan squeezed next to her. She laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arms around her. The ride was slow and bumpy, and they stopped at least a dozen times to let people out before they reached the place where his car was parked, but Ryan didn’t care how long it took, and he suspected Juanita didn’t either.

Eventually they reached his car, and Ryan reluctantly let Juanita go. The shuttle attendant handed their luggage down and Ryan stowed it in his trunk. Juanita climbed into the passenger seat, and Ryan started the car and steered it out of the lot. He pulled up Juanita’s parents’ address on his GPS and headed toward the bridge to the mainland.

Juanita pulled out her phone, then grimaced and stuck it back in her purse. “I forgot. I don’t have service in the US anymore.”

“I’ll have to check my email. I’ve probably got a hundred questions from people at work who think they can’t get along without me. Do you want to use my phone to call your parents?”

“Yes, please. And Carmen, too, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.” Ryan pulled his phone from his pocket, unlocked it with his thumb on the sensor, and passed it to her.

Juanita punched in numbers, waited, then sucked in a shaky breath. “Hi, Mom.” Her voice quavered. “Yeah, it’s me. Ryan let me use his phone. We’re on our way. Everything went fine.”

She listened for a while, exchanged a few more comments, and hung up. Before Ryan could say anything, she punched in another number. “Carmen. Hey. Yeah, we made it.”

Ryan could hear Carmen’s excited, happy voice coming from the speaker, though he couldn’t make out what she said. Juanita nodded. “Whenever you’re ready. Please, call as soon as you’re through. I’m not going to stop worrying until I hear from you. My phone doesn’t have service, so call Mom and Dad at home. I’ll be there in about an hour and a half. You can call Ryan’s phone if you’re through before that.” She listened. “All right. I won’t.” She swallowed. “Good luck.”

Juanita hung up and passed the phone back to him. “She says the lines at the border crossing have been long and really slow, so it will probably take her a few hours at least. She promised to call the minute she’s clear. I told her I wouldn’t worry, but I’m pretty sure she knew I was lying.”

Ryan patted her arm, then pulled his hand back. The touch of her skin was too tempting to endure for more than an instant when he couldn’t hope for more. “She’ll be fine. Everything so far has gone exactly the way we planned. This will, too.”

“I hope you’re right.” Juanita was still and silent for a moment, then pounced on the car’s radio, turned it on, and started flipping from station to station. “Gosh, I’ve missed American radio,” she said, her tone forced. “It’s in English! And it’s got my kind of music. Not that Norteño and Tejano are bad once you get used to them, but give me Top 40 any day.”

They chatted about music for a while, then moved on to other casual subjects for the rest of the drive. Only a few awkward silences broke the flow of conversation.

Shortly before noon, Ryan pulled into the modest but pleasant working-class neighborhood where Juanita’s parents lived. Juanita fell quiet and leaned forward, straining for the first glimpse of their house. When Ryan pulled into their driveway, she was out the door before he put the car in park. By the time he lifted her suitcase from the trunk and rolled it to the front door, she was in her father’s arms, both of them laughing and sobbing.

Mr. Gomez gestured for Ryan to enter as Juanita dashed into the house. “Welcome. We can never thank you enough for bringing our little girl home.”

“It was nothing,” Ryan said, his face heating. He doubted his welcome would be quite so warm if Juanita’s father knew what they’d gotten up to together. “I’m just glad I was able to help you and Carmen and Juanita.”

“If there’s ever anything we can do to repay you in some small measure, just say the word. In the meantime, please stay for lunch.”

Ryan would have preferred to refuse. This should be a private celebration for Juanita and her family. He would feel like an intruder. And every minute he spent in Juanita’s presence, knowing he’d never kiss her, never hold her, never make love to her again, was torture. But he didn’t want to offend Mr. Gomez, who’d undoubtedly gone to a great deal of effort to prepare the meal. And he didn’t want to leave until Carmen called to say she was across the border and this whole episode was finally over.

So he said, “I’d be delighted,” and followed Mr. Gomez in. He led Ryan down a hall and into a bedroom from which happy voices were emanating. Juanita was perched on the edge of a double bed. Her mother was sitting propped against pillows, dressed in an attractive housedress with her hair neatly styled, clutching Juanita’s hands and talking a mile a minute. A woman in a nurse’s uniform sat quietly in a chair on the far side of the room, watching the reunion with a misty smile. An IV pole and other medical equipment was tucked discreetly out of the way.

Juanita turned to beckon Ryan over, beaming. “Mom, this is Ryan. I never could have made it without him.”

“Carmen introduced us.” Mrs. Gomez pulled him in for a hug much stronger than he would have thought her frail arms could deliver. “Thank you for bringing my baby home to me. May God bless you richly for your kindness.”

He already has, Ryan thought. But of course he couldn’t say that. “Your happiness and Juanita’s are blessing enough.”

Mrs. Gomez beamed at him. “Sit down and tell me about your trip. I want to hear everything.”

Ryan’s cheeks warmed again, but he dragged a chair over as Juanita started giving an account of shopping in Cozumel. She sent him to fetch the gifts they’d bought for her family from her suitcase. Mrs. Gomez exclaimed over the onyx rosary, and Mr. Gomez expressed warm appreciation for the inlaid wooden box. They set the silver nativity aside for Carmen to unwrap when she arrived. Then Juanita continued, glossing over her panic at going through the checkpoint and rushing on to rhapsodize over the food. Ryan was impressed by how she enthusiastically described the melt-in-your-mouth cake without giving even a hint that it had provided anything but gustatory pleasure. This must not be the first time she’d concealed her amorous adventures from her parents.

After Juanita recounted the first show they’d attended, her father herded them into the dining room. The nurse supported Mrs. Gomez as she shakily rose and walked with slow, careful steps down the hall. Ryan saw pain flicker across Juanita’s face, but she swiftly replaced it with a cheery grin and helped the nurse settle her mother into a cushioned chair at the dining room table.

Juanita extravagantly praised the hamburgers and hot dogs and pizza Mr. Gomez served. She chugged can after can of Dr. Pepper and ate two bowls of ice cream for dessert. Ryan would never have suspected she was anxious if he hadn’t noticed her surreptitiously glancing at the clock on the wall every few minutes.

They sat around talking for more than an hour after they finished eating. Juanita continued her account of the cruise, with Ryan contributing a few comments. Her parents filled her in on happenings among their circle of friends and acquaintances. Eventually Mrs. Gomez excused herself, and the nurse helped her back to her room for a nap. Juanita settled with her father and Ryan in the living room. She maintained her cheerful demeanor, but Ryan caught her checking the time even more often than before.

Finally Mr. Gomez voiced what they were all thinking. “It’s awfully late. Shouldn’t Carmen have called by now?”

Juanita shrugged, worry in her eyes but a smile on her lips. “It’s only been a few hours since I talked to her. She said there was a long line at the border crossing.”

Ryan pulled out his phone and checked the log. “We called her at ten. It’s nearly three. Should I call back, do you think?”

“We shouldn’t interrupt her if she’s in the middle of talking to Border Patrol.” Juanita twisted her hands together in her lap.

Mr. Gomez hesitated, then inclined his head to Ryan. “Please do. She’ll ignore the call if it’s inconvenient.” He flashed a grin just like Juanita’s. “I speak from experience.”

Ryan put his phone on speaker and punched the number. They all listened as Carmen’s phone rang four times, then went to voicemail. “I’m sorry. I can’t take your call right now. Leave a message and I’ll get right back to you.”

Ryan said, “Hey, Carmen, just checking in to make sure you’re all right. Give us a call as soon as you can.” He hit the button to hang up.

They all exchanged glances, but nobody said anything. Finally Juanita took a deep breath. “Let me tell you about the shop where I worked in Mexico City. You would have loved it, Dad. All the gaudy little trinkets you could ever want.”

Her father chuckled. When Juanita ran out of things to say, he was quick to bring up the subject of a new mission project their church had recently become involved in. When that had been thoroughly discussed, Ryan contributed an account of the big project he’d finished immediately before the cruise. They nibbled away another two hours, until the nurse brought word that Mrs. Gomez had woken and was asking for Juanita.

Ryan stood up along with her. He hated to leave before knowing Carmen was all right, but he couldn’t intrude on the family any longer. Juanita needed time alone with her mother, and Mr. Gomez would need to start preparing supper soon. So as soon as Juanita disappeared into the bedroom, he said, “I need to be going. I want to get home and unpack before it gets too late.”

“Please, stay for supper,” Mr. Gomez said. Ryan could tell he meant it, but he knew his continued presence would be an imposition. He turned down the offer politely but firmly and repeated his resolution to leave until Mr. Gomez ushered him to the door.

Ryan hoped to escape without having to face Juanita again, but a moment after the door creaked open she dashed down the hall. “You weren’t going to leave without saying goodbye, were you?” she accused him.

“Um…”

She threw her arms around him. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. They held each other for a long moment. Then Ryan pulled away. “Tell your mother goodbye for me. And call as soon as you hear from Carmen.”

“We will. You call here if she answers your message.”

“Of course.” Ryan fixed Juanita with a stern look. “And if you ever need my help again, no matter what the problem is or how long it’s been, call me. Promise.”

“I promise.” She pushed a strand of hair out of her face.

He didn’t know whether or not to believe her, but it was the best he could do. “Or even if you just want to, you know, talk. Or… whatever.”

Her cheeks reddened, and she angled her face away from her father. “I’ve got your number.”

“Good.” He ached to kiss her, but that would be a bad idea for a whole slew of reasons. So he backed away. “So, um, goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Ryan.” Her eyes held volumes neither of them could say.

He clenched his fists. “Thanks for the wonderful lunch, Mr. Gomez. I’m glad I could help. Bye.”

Ryan forced himself to walk through the door. He got into his car, gave Mr. Gomez and Juanita a final wave, and backed out of the driveway. He drove slowly down the street. Just before he turned the corner, he risked a glance in the rearview mirror. Mr. Gomez had vanished inside, but Juanita was still standing in the doorway, watching him drive away.

It was all Ryan could do not to make a U-turn and drive back to beg Juanita one more time to change her mind. But he knew she wouldn’t. So he set his jaw, turned onto the crossing street, and drove much faster than the speed limit allowed all the way to his apartment.

Chapter 18

Juanita plodded back to Mom’s bedroom and made cheerful small talk until Dad called them for supper. He’d made spaghetti and meatballs, another homey American meal she’d missed while in Mexico. Not that the ingredients were unavailable, but they were pricey, and she’d seldom been able to muster the energy to shop or cook.

She loved how Dad had stepped up and taken over the cooking here. Nine years ago when Mom had gotten sick the first time, Juanita and Carmen had assumed her domestic duties. Mom and Dad had always stuck to traditional gender roles in the past, but she supposed that when Dad was left with no other choice, he’d buckled down and learned to do what was needed. Now he seemed to take great pride in producing delicious dishes.

There were brownies for dessert. Juanita nibbled one, thinking how much Ryan would enjoy sharing it with her. She’d tried not to let him see how deeply it hurt her to say goodbye, or how tempted she was by his plea for her to call. She suppressed a smile. “Whatever” indeed! If only she were free to call him for “whatever” on a regular basis.

But that was impossible, so she shoved it out of her mind. She was never going to talk to him again. She’d make Carmen contact him herself once she called. If for some reason Juanita ever needed to communicate with him, she’d pass a message through her sister or her parents. Or send him an email if she was desperate.

Not that she was ever going to be desperate, or even slightly needy. She’d done without him perfectly well for her whole life before this week. She’d continue to do without him from now on.

As the nurse, Amanda, rose to help Mom back to her room, the phone rang. Everyone froze and stared through the door into the kitchen, where the cordless handset rested in its cradle on the counter. On the second ring Juanita jumped to her feet and dashed to snatch it up. She hit the talk button with a shaking finger. “Hello?”

“Excuse me, may I speak to Mr. Roberto Gomez? This is Rosa Blackburn.”

“The immigration lawyer?” Juanita blurted, going cold all over.

“That’s right. Please, is Mr. Gomez there? This is urgent.”

“Yes.” Juanita started to hand the phone to Dad, then pulled it back and stabbed the speaker button. “Um, this is Juanita speaking. This is about Carmen, isn’t it? Is she okay?”

For a moment the phone emitted only a barely audible hum. Then the woman said, “I really do need to speak to your father, Juanita. Or your mother, although I hate to disturb her.”

“I’m here, Rosa,” Dad said into the phone. Juanita held it out between the three of them.

“So am I,” Mom added. “What’s happened to Carmen?”

“All of you, please stay calm. Carmen is perfectly safe. We’re going to get this straightened out as soon as possible.” The sound of her inhale hissed from the phone. “Carmen was arrested this morning while attempting to cross the border from Mexico into Texas. She’s being held at a federal facility in Brownsville. When they allowed her a phone call, she very wisely contacted me. I’ve got calls in to all the relevant authorities already, but since it’s the weekend we may not be able to get her out until Monday.”

Juanita was shaking so badly she nearly dropped the phone. Dad took it gently from her. He spoke softly but intently. “How can they hold her? She’s a citizen.”

The lawyer cleared her throat. “She’s accused of identity theft and attempting to enter the US fraudulently. Apparently Immigration believes she’s Juanita. They recorded Carmen reentering the country this morning from her cruise.”

Juanita balled her fists. “Shit.”

Mom lost her stricken look for a moment to frown at Juanita. Then it returned and she turned back to the phone. “But they’ll be able to prove she’s really Carmen, won’t they? They can use fingerprints or DNA or dental records, yes?”

“Yes, that part should be fairly easy. The difficulty will come after they accept her identity. Then they’ll realize that someone else must have taken her place in Galveston.” Ms. Blackwood took another deep breath. “You have to understand, conspiring to smuggle a non-citizen into the country is a federal offense. If the authorities become convinced that Carmen knowingly allowed someone else to impersonate her, they’ll prosecute her. If convicted, she could go to prison for as long as twenty years.”

Juanita struggled to breathe. Her worst fears had come true. She’d known something like this would happen. Why hadn’t she shut Carmen down the minute she’d suggested her scheme? Why hadn’t she worked harder to convince her not to pursue it? Why hadn’t she stayed in Mexico City and never gone to Cozumel? Why hadn’t she walked out of that hotel room, gotten back on the bus, and returned to her lonely apartment to stay?

But she hadn’t. She’d been too selfish, too needy, too afraid. She’d known in her heart it would never work, but she’d let her sister’s persuasion drown out her instincts. She’d listened to Carmen’s blithe assurances that everything would be okay because she’d wanted so badly to believe them. She’d allowed Carmen to pressure her into walking aboard that ship, even though she knew it was wrong. Now Carmen was going to pay the price for Juanita’s weakness.

And not only Carmen. Ice flooded Juanita’s body. It wouldn’t take Immigration long to find out who’d been with Juanita on the cruise. They’d realize he must have been in on the deception. They would burst into Ryan’s apartment and put him in handcuffs and take him to jail. He’d be tried and convicted, because he was guilty, and there was plenty of evidence to prove it. He’d spend years in prison, locked in a cold, bare cell. Because Juanita had taken advantage of his kindness, his generosity, his willingness to help a stranger, Ryan’s life would be ruined.

She couldn’t let that happen.

Her racing heart slowed and her shallow breaths deepened. She thought about what she must do. Mom and Dad were still deep in conversation with Ms. Blackwood, hashing over every possible strategy she planned to use in Carmen’s defense. Juanita listened carefully. Despite the lawyer’s upbeat words, a grim undertone in her voice told Juanita that nothing she was suggesting would do more than delay the inevitable. Carmen, too, was guilty. Only Juanita had the ability to save her.

After many repeated reassurances that she’d do everything possible and report frequently on her progress, Ms. Blackburn ended the call. Mom and Dad stared at each other in silence, grief-stricken and guilty. This must be how they’d looked when they’d learned Juanita had been arrested. It hurt her to know they blamed themselves. Maybe this predicament originated with them, but Juanita was an adult now. It had become her responsibility.

Eventually Mom struggled to rise. Juanita waved Amanda away and helped Mom back to bed herself, telling Amanda to take a break. The nurse was sympathetic, but she wasn’t a part of their private family troubles. Juanita wanted to spend every precious moment she could with her mother.

She tucked the covers around Mom the way Mom had done for her when she was a child. Then she pulled over a chair and sat holding her hand. For a long time they reminisced about the past: Juanita and Carmen’s childhood, the fun they’d had together, the mischief they’d gotten into. Mom told a few stories Juanita had never heard. Juanita confessed a few things she’d never admitted. The hour grew late, and Mom’s eyes grew heavy. Juanita leaned down to kiss her goodnight.

As she rose to leave, Mom caught her hand. “You mustn’t blame yourself. Carmen chose to go after you.”

“I know.” Juanita hesitated. Finally she said, “You know, Mom, Mexico wasn’t that bad. I think I could learn to like it there eventually.”

Mom gave her a long, searching look. She nodded slowly. “I loved my home. It broke my heart to leave. But we had no other way to give you the future you deserved.”

“I’m glad you came here. This is a wonderful country. I’ll always consider myself an American.” Juanita squeezed her hand. “But it’s not the only good place in the world.”

Mom closed her eyes and sighed, deep lines etching her face. “I know.” She opened them again and regarded Juanita with pride and sorrow. “I’m so glad I got to see you again.”

“So am I.” Juanita gently freed her hand and smoothed it across her mother’s forehead. “Goodnight, Mom.”

“Goodnight.” Mom closed her eyes. Juanita slipped out of the bedroom, switched off the lights, and closed the door.

She breathed hard for a moment, then walked to the living room with purposeful steps. Dad was sitting in his recliner, the remote in his hand, switching between TV stations without settling for more than a few seconds on any of them. Juanita bent to give him a hug. “Dad, do you have Ms. Blackburn’s number? I want to call her back. I’ve got a few questions, and there are a couple of things I forgot to say that I should probably tell her.”

He dug his phone from his pocket. “She’s in my list of contacts.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Juanita accepted the phone and took it to her bedroom. They’d moved to this house while she was in high school, and Mom and Dad had redecorated and turned her room into a guest room after she’d left for college, so the memories it held were muted. But it still felt more like home than anywhere Juanita had lived since.

She sat on the bed and flipped through Dad’s contacts until she found the lawyer’s number. Her heart thudded as she listened to the phone ring, but when Ms. Blackburn answered, Juanita’s voice was steady. “Hello, Ms. Blackburn? This is Juanita Gomez. I need to talk to you.”

The lawyer’s voice was wary but cordial. “I should warn you, since you’re not formally my client, I’ll have to report anything you tell me to the authorities if they question me. So you shouldn’t say where you are or how you got there.”

“I understand. Um, how do I become your client?”

“For now, it’s sufficient that you express the intent to hire me. You can come in later and sign the paperwork and arrange for payment.”

“Okay.” Juanita hoped the amount remaining in her bank account was enough to cover the lawyer’s fee. It shouldn’t be terribly large, since Juanita would only need her for a short time. “I want to hire you.”

“I accept. Now anything you tell me is covered by attorney-client privilege. It will remain confidential unless you tell me you plan to harm yourself or someone else.”

“No, nothing like that.” Juanita took a deep breath. “I want to turn myself in.”

Ms. Blackburn’s voice remained carefully neutral. “Are you sure? You’ll be deported again.”

“I know. And I am sure. But I need you to negotiate a deal with Immigration. In exchange for me coming in, they have to drop all charges against Carmen and Ryan.”

“Ryan?” Ms. Blackburn asked.

“Ryan Hertz. One of Carmen’s coworkers. He helped Carmen smuggle me back into the US.”

“I see.” Juanita heard movement on the other end of the connection. “I don’t know whether what you’re asking is possible, but we can try. I’ll start making inquiries as soon as we’re done. Right now, though, I need you to tell me everything in as much detail as you can remember. Starting with your arrest.”

“Okay.” Juanita shifted her grip on the phone and launched into the story. It was easier to tell this time than when she’d shared it with Ryan. She continued, recounting her efforts to settle into life in Mexico, the news of Mom’s relapse, and Carmen’s first call proposing her plan. Ms. Blackburn listened with patient attentiveness, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

Juanita tried to keep her tone unemotional, but when she got to the part where Ryan entered the story, it became harder. Sometimes her voice grew tender, while other times she came close to tears. When she got to Wednesday night, she stumbled to a halt, flustered. “And then we, I mean, um…”

“You became sexually intimate?” Ms. Blackburn’s voice was blessedly neutral.

“Yes.” Juanita flushed. “Do you want me to, um…”

“No personal details are necessary, as long as the relationship was consensual.”

“It was.” Juanita’s flush deepened as she remembered.

“Then go on with the next day.”

Juanita complied gratefully. It didn’t take long to cover the events of the cruise. She described their uneventful arrival in Galveston that morning. “We drove to my parent’s house and had lunch. Ryan left to go home around four. And then you called after supper.”

The sound of a scratching pen continued for a moment, then Ms. Blackburn said, “Thank you, Juanita. Just one more question. Mr. Hertz doesn’t yet know that your sister is being held?”

“No. Although he probably suspects, since he hasn’t heard from us.” Juanita swallowed. “Can we wait to tell him until everything’s over? Until I’m back in Mexico? Otherwise he’ll try to talk me out of it.”

“Since he’s not yet been accused of a crime, that should be possible, assuming things go quickly. I hope we can get this settled on Monday.”

“Good. Thank you.”

Ms. Blackburn’s voice softened. “I know this is very difficult for you, Juanita. But I want you to know that I think you’re doing a very brave thing. Your sister and Mr. Hertz will owe you their freedom. I’ll make sure they understand that.”

Juanita shrugged, even though Ms. Blackburn couldn’t see. “It’s not their fault it didn’t work. I can’t let them suffer for my sake. Especially because they would go to prison, while I’ll be free in Mexico. That makes the choice pretty easy.”

“Not everyone would see it that way.” She resumed a businesslike tone. “All right. Plan to come into my office on Monday around one. That should give me enough time to arrange a meeting with Immigration. I’ll draw up some documents that will protect you, Carmen, and Mr. Hertz. Once everyone signs, Immigration will probably escort you straight to the airport. So pack a small suitcase and bring it with you. Your family can ship you the rest of your belongings.”

“Perfect.” Peace settled over Juanita. “You won’t say anything about this to my parents, will you? They won’t like it. It will be better if they only find out after it’s done.”

“Not a word,” Ms. Blackburn promised.

They arranged for Juanita to call back at regular times the next day. Then they said goodnight and hung up.

Without letting herself think, Juanita flipped over to Dad’s messaging app and composed a text to Ryan. Heard from Carmen. Everything’s okay. She stabbed send.

A moment later the reply came. Thanks for telling me. Bye.

Tears blurred Juanita’s vision so she could barely type. Bye.

She sat staring at the phone in her hands. It was done. Ms. Blackburn would take care of everything. Carmen and Ryan would be cleared. Juanita would spend all day tomorrow with Mom and Dad. Then on Monday, she’d tell them goodbye forever.

From now on, Mexico would be her home. The souvenir shop would hire her back, or she’d get a different job. If her apartment had been rented, she’d find another. She’d look into the requirements for practicing as an occupational therapist in Mexico, once she was fluent enough in Spanish. She would have a good life, and so would Carmen and Ryan. It would be as if the whole doomed attempt to bring her home had never happened.

Except Juanita would have the memory of those few brief, precious days with Ryan. She couldn’t be sorry about that. She wouldn’t trade them for anything, not even relief from the ache that would always haunt her heart. The pain was a small price to pay for the joy they’d shared.

She only hoped Ryan felt the same way.

Chapter 19

Ryan’s legs felt like rubber. His pulse beat so loud in his ears it nearly drowned out the sound of his knuckles rapping on the door.

He’d planned so long and worked so hard and sacrificed so much for this moment. A thousand times he’d questioned whether he’d made the right decision. Up until last week he could have canceled the whole thing with a few phone calls. He still could, although it would take a little more effort. Doubts and fears had tormented him the whole time he was making plans and arrangements. The few people he’d confided in had told him that what he was doing was crazy, stupid, foolish. They’d advised him to forget about it and get on with his life.

But a thousand times he’d pushed all that aside and gone on researching and making calls and filling out forms. Everything had come together more smoothly than he’d dared hope. Now here he was. In a moment he’d find out if it had all been worth it, or if he’d made a terrible mistake.

He heard the scrape and click of a lock turning. The door swung open.

Ryan extended the bouquet of sunflowers he’d bought in the market on the way. “Hola, Juanita.”

She stared at him, mouth agape, eyes wide and round. The longer she stood frozen, the lower Ryan’s stomach sank, until it puddled in his shoes. This wasn’t the reaction he’d dreamed about.

He shouldn’t have come. He definitely shouldn’t have surprised her. He should have gotten in touch first and asked if she had any interest in seeing him again. Better yet, he should have left her alone the way she’d insisted she wanted. Now all he could do was try to control the damage.

Ryan stepped back, dropping the flowers to his side. “I’m sorry. I—”

Juanita hurtled forward and threw her arms around his neck. She buried her face in his chest. “Ryan! What the hell are you doing here?”

He wrapped his arms around her, not caring if the flowers got crushed, only aware of the incredible sweetness of her body against his. “I wanted to see you.”

She didn’t let go. “How did you find me? I’ve moved twice since I got back.”

“I pestered Carmen until she gave in and told me your address. This is a nice place.”

She finally loosened her grip and moved back, though she kept her hands on his shoulders. “It is, isn’t it? When I got my job at the clinic, I splurged a little. My salary covers the rent pretty comfortably.”

“Carmen told me you were working in your field again. Congratulations.”

She beamed at him. “Occupational therapy is still pretty new here, so they were happy to get me.” She grabbed his hand and pulled him over the threshold. “Come in. Have a seat. Can I get you something, a Coke, maybe? It’s the good kind with cane sugar instead of corn syrup.”

“That would be great.” He followed her into the small, sunny living room. “Do you have something I can put these in?”

She looked back at him with an expression he couldn’t read. It was happy, but layered with all sorts of other emotions as well. “On the shelf.”

He looked where she gestured and swallowed. The vase they’d bought in Roatan sat among a few other decorative items on top of a crowded bookshelf. He went to get it without comment and took it into the kitchen.

Juanita bustled around, pulling glasses from a cabinet and filling them with ice. “Don’t worry, I’ve got an anti-bacterial filter on my ice maker, and on the sink, too. And in the bathroom. I got tired of brushing my teeth with bottled water. There are enough gringos living here that there are businesses who cater to our needs.”

Ryan filled the vase with water and arranged the flowers in it. Their vibrant yellow nicely complemented the earth tones of the glaze. “That’s good to know.”

She used a bottle opener to pop the cap off the Coke and split it between the two ice-filled tumblers. Ryan’s throat caught when he saw the thick handblown glass with cobalt-blue rims. “They match my shot glass.”

“I remember.” Juanita handed him one. “Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.” She set the vase in the center of a round table in a cozy breakfast nook, then took her drink and perched in one of the chairs.

Ryan sat in the other and sipped the crisp, fizzy soda. “It’s great to see you doing so well.”

She shrugged. “I get by.”

“Carmen said you’ve made some friends?”

Her face brightened. “I joined a great study group while I was taking Spanish lessons. Several other American expats, as well as people from Europe and Africa and Australia. We still get together all the time. And I found a church where the people are really nice. My Spanish is pretty good now. The kids I work with aren’t shy about correcting my grammar and critiquing my accent.”

“That’s great.” Ryan swirled his glass, watching the bubbles rise and pop. Carefully, he said, “Met any guys?”

Juanita shrugged. Just as carefully, she said, “A few. No one special, though.” She eyed him with what Ryan dared hope was hope. “What about you? Got a girlfriend at the moment?”

“No.” He was almost certain he saw relief on her face before she looked away. His heart soared. “You’re a hard act to follow.”

She gave a strangled laugh. “So are you.” She sipped her Coke, then set down the glass and knotted her hands together. “How long are you staying? Because since neither of us are involved with anyone else right now, I would really like to spend as much time with you as I can while you’re in the city.” Her face reddened, but she looked directly at him. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

“Of course. I want you, Juanita. I’ve never stopped wanting you.” He reached for her hands and folded them between his. “But I have something to tell you first.”

Wariness interrupted the dawning happiness in her eyes. “What?”

Ryan took a deep breath and stared at their linked hands. “I’m not in Mexico City on vacation. I’m here to stay. I’ve accepted a position with a large engineering firm downtown, and my permanent residency paperwork came through last month. All my stuff is in storage with a shipping company. I’m staying at a hotel right now, but as soon as I find a place to rent they’ll deliver it. I start work on Monday.”

Juanita stared at him. Her face had gone pale so rapidly he worried she might pass out. Her fingers gripped his. She breathed heavily for several seconds. Finally she choked out, “You’re moving here?”

“I already have. It’s a done deal.” He freed his hands and extracted a plastic rectangle from his wallet to display to her. “The Mexican equivalent of a green card, more or less. I’m legal to live and work here as long as I want. My new company expedited my application. Apparently American engineers are in high demand.”

When she didn’t say anything, he kept talking as he returned his wallet to his pocket and reached for her hands again. “I’m excited about the projects I’ll be working on. There’s a lot of infrastructure redevelopment going on, bringing the older parts of the city up to modern standards. My new colleagues have all sorts of things to teach me, and they’re eager to learn what I know. It’s going to be a productive collaboration.”

Juanita started shaking her head halfway through his speech. When he paused, she burst out, “Ryan, you can’t!”

“It’s a bit late to change my mind now.” He stroked her taut fingers.

Tears welled in her eyes. She dashed them away impatiently. “You’re not fooling anyone. I know you did this for me. You gave up your home and your family and your country and followed me here. Why didn’t you ask me first? I would have told you not to. I didn’t let them deport me again just to have you go into exile, too.”

“That’s why I didn’t ask.” Ryan chose his words carefully. “This isn’t exile. I didn’t give any of those things up. I can go to the US anytime I choose, either for a visit or to move back. My family is only a two hour flight away, closer than if I’d moved to Los Angeles. I’m still an American citizen, and I don’t have any plans to change that. I just decided I’d like to live abroad for a while.”

Desperate, painful hope was growing in her eyes, but she shook her head, scowling. “What if I decide I don’t want to get back together with you?”

“Then I’ll be very sad. But I won’t be sorry I came here, and I won’t go back.” He cupped her cheek. “Juanita, when I found out what you did, I was so proud of you and so damn angry at the same time. I know how much courage it took. I know I would have spent years in prison if you hadn’t, and Carmen, too. I’ll forever be grateful that you saved me from that. And I was furious at you for throwing your future away for my sake. I wanted to grab you and shake you and yell at you until you changed your mind, except it was too late. You were already gone.”

She pressed her face into his hand. “That’s why I didn’t tell you what I was going to do.”

“I know. So you understand why I didn’t, either.”

She turned to scrub her damp eyes against his palm. “But… but… to move to Mexico… it’s such a huge, drastic, crazy—”

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me, but it really isn’t. It was a lot easier than I thought it would be, actually.” He stroked her hair, savoring the soft, springy waves he’d spent so much time imagining. “I’ve always wanted to see as much of the world as I could. This is an adventure.” He wrinkled his nose at her. “The fact that you live here is just a bonus.”

That won the chuckle he’d wanted. “Right.”

He slid his hand beneath her hair at the nape of her neck and dropped his voice to a husky murmur. “A wonderful, incredible, unbelievably amazing bonus.”

She yielded to his gentle pressure until her forehead was resting against his. “You really mean that?” Her breath quickened, and a note of incredulous wonder tinged her voice. “It’s true, isn’t it? There’s nothing keeping us apart anymore. We can be together.”

He swallowed. “There’s no rush. We have all the time we need. You don’t owe me anything. When I decided to move here, I knew there were no guarantees. I just knew I would regret it forever if I didn’t do everything in my power to give us a chance.”

She drew a shaky breath that was at least half sob. “Oh, god, Ryan, I love you so much. I don’t need time. I want you now.”

She reached for his mouth and Ryan pulled her close, drinking in the lips and tongue that were even sweeter than he remembered. And even hotter than the fantasies that had tormented and tantalized him the whole time they’d been apart. By the time they came up for air she was in his lap and both of their shirts were on the floor.

He nuzzled the curve of her breast. “I love you, Juanita. I never want to be apart from you again.”

“You don’t have to.” She kneaded his shoulders. “Move in with me. This apartment is big enough for two. There’s plenty of room for your stuff. The second bedroom is empty because at first I couldn’t afford furniture for it, and then I didn’t have any reason to get any. And it’s only a five minute walk to a rail line that will take you straight downtown. I promise, it’s an easier commute than you’ll find anywhere else in the city.”

He slid his fingers under the waistband of her jeans. “All very persuasive arguments. But I don’t know. What else can you offer to sweeten the deal?”

She put her head to the side, pretending to consider. “Hot sex every night?”

“Sold.” Ryan pushed her bra aside and sucked on her nipple, earning a gasp of pleasure. He paused on the way to the other side. “And with both of us sharing the rent, we’ll have plenty of money to set aside for other things. Like travel. I want to go everywhere in Mexico. We can start with Chichen Itza; it’s one of the seven wonders of the world. And when we’ve seen as much as we want here, we can go farther. You might not be able to visit the United States, but as a Mexican citizen you shouldn’t have any trouble traveling to the rest of the world. South America. Europe. Africa. Asia.”

She sucked in her breath. “Can we go on another cruise?”

“Sure. There are plenty that leave from ports outside the US.”

She lay her head against his chest. “If this is a dream, don’t wake me up.” She toyed with the hair around his nipple, giving him a shy glance before looking away. “Dad wouldn’t be able to come to our wedding, but Carmen could. And your family.”

“Juanita Gomez, is that a proposal?”

She shrugged and hid her face in his chest, blushing. “We shouldn’t rush into anything.”

“Too bad, because I was about to say yes.” He hugged her. “We can set up a Skype connection for your dad. On a phone or a tablet, because I want to get married on a beautiful tropical beach. I don’t care where, but in addition to good phone service it’s got to have sand and palm trees and bright blue water.”

She sighed, then wrinkled her nose at him. “Beautiful as that sounds, I want a church wedding. In the oldest, most historic Catholic church we can find.”

“Uh-oh. Looks like we have a problem.” Ryan grinned at her. “We’ll just have to compromise. There has to be a church on a beach somewhere.”

“Or near one, at least.” Juanita sighed and wrapped her arms around him. “Ryan, are you sure about this? Are you sure that a few years from now you aren’t going to get homesick and be sorry you ever left? I want you to stay with me more than I can possibly express, but I don’t want to hurt you. I know how hard it is to lose your home.”

Ryan buried his face in her hair and inhaled its citrusy scent. “Juanita, from now on, my home is wherever we’re together.”

“Oh.” She breathed hard, and Ryan felt dampness on his chest. “I thought I’d never be home again.” She raised her tear-streaked, shining face to him. “But here I am.”

He crushed her close. When he could speak again, he said, “I think we should celebrate our homecoming.” He wiggled his hips. “Somewhere more comfortable than this very hard chair.”

She laughed, the bright, uninhibited sound he loved so much, and jumped out of his lap. She grabbed his hands and pulled him to his feet. “I know just the place. With my first paycheck from the clinic I bought a nice, big, soft bed. Come see.”

“Now that’s an invitation I can’t possibly refuse.” Ryan let her draw him into her bedroom and down onto her bed. Their bed, now and forever. He’d come home at last to Juanita’s arms, and he was never going to leave again.

About the Author

Elana Brooks is the author of the science fiction romance series The Covenant of the Rainbow. Read an excerpt of Book One here (www.ElanaBrooks.com/excerpt). She also writes young adult fantasy under the name Angela Holder (www.AngelaHolder.com).

Elana lives with her husband of twenty-six years in Houston, Texas. She went on her first cruise two years ago with her whole family, and enjoyed it so much she immediately planned another with just her husband. Many of the details and incidents in this story are drawn from those two trips. She's already counting the days until she can sail again!

To learn about new releases and special deals, subscribe to her newsletter (www.ElanaBrooks.com/subscribe) or visit her Facebook page (www.Facebook.com/ElanaBrooksAuthor).

Just Trust Me

Celeste Hall

Love is unconditional. Trust must be earned.

When her best friend since childhood invites Jenn to spend time in a beautiful Amazon resort, free of charge, Jenn leaps at the opportunity. Maybe she can finally escape the terror stalking her in New York city.

Almost the moment she steps off the plane, Jenn is blindsided by the appearance of Remi's surly older brother. An ex-marine, now chief of resort security, Jackson is looking sexier than ever, but just as unapproachable.

Jackson has wanted Jenn in his bed for as long as he can remember, but sleeping with your little sister's best friend felt like a huge violation of unspoken sibling law.

When Jenn's terrible secret follows her to the jungle and threatens to take her from him forever, Jackson vows to keep her safe, but to do so, he'll need to gain back the trust he destroyed long ago.

Chapter 1

“I don’t like it, Jenn. I’d feel a lot better if you’d cancel this trip and stay here, where I can protect you.”

Jenn gave the man sitting behind the steering wheel a mock scowl. He was painfully thin, with unkempt hair, and the complexion of a computer geek who rarely saw sunlight. But for what he lacked in looks, he made up with unquestionable devotion.

“Peter, we’ve been over this. I really need this vacation. Besides, I miss Remi and our long girl talks.”

“You can talk to me.”

She offered a wan smile, because she could see that he was being sincere.

Although he was rumored to have a questionable history, Peter was really a thoughtful guy, although a bit strange. And very clingy. He’d firmly attached himself to her after she’d started working her new job at the call center.

At first, she’d believed that he was romantically interested in her, but after having him puppy dogging her around the office for a few months, without ever actually hitting on her, she’d decided he was just the kind of personality who struggled to make friends on his own.

When Remi left, Peter had simply inserted himself into the void left behind.

Best friends since kindergarten, Remi and Jenn were nearly inseparable until just six months ago, when Remi had taken a job as the manager of an exotic tropical resort in South America.

“Last chance,” Peter begged as they pulled up in front of the airport terminal. “You can still change your mind. Just tell Remi that you got busy at work and needed to find another week to come visit, that should buy you time to come up with a better excuse.”

“Sorry hon, I might never get another chance to visit the rainforest,” she returned. “I’m not rich. The only reason I can afford this trip, is because Remi now runs the place. She’s giving me a free room and meals, so all I had to pay for were the plane tickets. I really can’t pass up an opportunity like this.”

“It’s not safe,” Peter argued. Were those tears glistening in his eyes? “I was just reading an article about girls who disappeared while on vacation. It happens every year. Hundreds, maybe thousands of women are raped, abused, or completely vanish, most likely sold into slavery or murdered.”

“Jeez, Peter!” Jenn frowned. “Can’t you just be jealous of me, like everyone else? You’re really starting to freak me out!”

“You should be scared,” he pressed. “It’s not safe to travel alone. Especially in a place like the Amazon. There are tribes down there which still practice cannibalism. There was an article about them on CNN last month.”

“Those tribes live in the deepest, most remote parts of the rainforest,” Jenn growled, shoving open the passenger door and climbing out of the ancient Ford Fiesta. The car was probably older than she was, with a patchwork of primer gray smeared over large portions of its otherwise rust covered body.

“Besides, I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Remi.”

Peter awkwardly emerged from the driver’s side of the vehicle and hurried around the back to meet her.

“Remi will be working,” he continued the argument, ignoring her scowl. “She’s not going to be watching out for you.”

“I’ll be fine,” Jenn sighed in frustration, making a halfhearted attempt to steal his keys when he didn’t immediately open the trunk for her. “I’ll stay in the resort area. They have private security. I’ll be perfectly safe.”

Peter reluctantly helped her lift the luggage out of the trunk, but she could see that he wasn’t very happy doing it. In fact, he looked rather mad at her attempts to brush off his concern. Yet, despite his nagging, it was kind of nice to have someone who cared.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised. “Now stop trying to scare me and give me a hug.”

He attempted a smile, but it failed to reach his eyes.

“Just be safe,” he mumbled against her shoulder.

“I will.”

It was a seven-and-a-half-hour flight from New York to Cusco, then a two hour wait to catch a charter flight from Cusco to Boca Manu. When Jenn finally stepped off the tiny charter plane, she gulped in a huge breath in relief.

The view was incredible, even from the tiny rainforest airport, which was really nothing more than a grassy swath cut out of the trees. It looked like that narrow strip of grass was on the verge of being consumed by the thick rainforest trees and vines, which pushed into the area from every direction.

The sun was beginning to dip low in the sky, yet the tropical breeze remained warm.

The air felt so incredibly clean. It was rich in oxygen and carried the heavenly fragrance of lush, green plant life. She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been back in New York, now she swore she could feel the stress knots in her back and neck beginning to unravel.

Remi was waiting for her near the tiny palm leaf hut which served as the Boca Manu airport terminal and Jenn felt her heart swell with joy at the sight of her.

Best friends since childhood, it had been hard when Remi had accepted the offer to live in South America full time. But she’d worked hard all her life, she deserved this exquisite reward, even if it meant that their friendship had to be pushed onto a back burner.

Of course, Jenn had tried to stay in touch using the internet and semi-regular phone calls, but it just wasn’t the same as having her friend close by.

“You’ve lost weight,” Remi scolded, by way of greeting. “You look awful.”

“Oh, my god, I missed you too!” Jenn laughed, she actually laughed, for what felt like the first time in six months. It felt good to be happy again. “You look amazing!”

Jenn hugged her friend a bit too long, earning Remi’s suspicion.

“Jeez, what’s wrong? The last time we talked you sounded like things were rough back home, but now that I see you, I’m seriously concerned.”

“I just needed a vacation,” Jenn fibbed. She wasn’t ready to admit the whole truth just yet. The real reason why she’d been dropping weight and had become a paranoid shadow of her former self.

“Let me help you with your bags,” Remi commanded. “We still have a boat ride ahead of us, it’s the only way on or off the resort. The dock isn’t far, it’s just down this path a little way. I can’t wait to show you around. You’re going to love it!”

Jenn inhaled a cleansing breath and nodded. This was exactly what she needed.

“Has Roger tried calling you?” Remi tossed over her shoulder, and just like that, Jenn’s lungs deflated. Even the sound of his name was enough to make her stomach upset.

She felt like a bird whose wings had been clipped, afraid to fly again, afraid of falling.

She hated being afraid, which was why she’d finally broken down and listened to Remi’s nagging, agreeing to take time off for this vacation. She needed to reclaim her life, to heal the part of her soul which was vulnerable and hurting.

“He tried calling a few times, but I never answered. I think he finally gave up.”

“I’m proud of you, Jenn. He was a dick. You should have kicked his ass to the curb months ago.”

Jenn sighed, drawing a sharp look from her companion. It wasn’t that she regretted breaking up with Roger. Hell, she agreed with Remi, she should have dumped him sooner. She just wished she could figure out why she was still struggling in the relationship department.

Her past was littered with a long line of assholes, users, and abusers.

She knew she wanted a strong, alpha man. A guy who might have a few scars on his knuckles and a bit of an attitude, but who still knew how to treat a woman right. A man like… nope, it was better not to even think his name. She’d had her chance to win him over and he’d completely shot her down.

“The best way to get over a guy is to get yourself sexed up by a better one,” Remi declared, clearly misinterpreting Jenn’s response.

“No! No men!” She responded a bit too quickly, then attempted to cover her haste by adding, “I’m done with men for a while. I need to focus on me.”

Remi eyed her, not at all convinced. She clearly suspected something, but was willing to wait for her best friend to open up, which made Jenn feel even guiltier for keeping it a secret.

She was supposed to be the fearless one. The girl who was always up for a dare, for travel, for adventure. How had it all crumbled? How had she ended up in this emotional whirlpool? Afraid to open her emails, afraid to answer her phone, afraid of her own shadow?

The first cracks in her confidence had no doubt been created by Roger, but what happened after he left was her real undoing. It now overshadowed every aspect of her life. A fresh horror popping up every time she thought she was finally getting over the last.

The photographs were first. Nasty pictures which made her skin crawl. Then came the emails and phone calls, always made on a burner phone, to prevent anyone from tracking it back.

She had a stalker.

Of course, she’d thought it was Roger at first. She still hadn’t completely written him off as a possibility, but to be fair, it could be any one of her post-romance catastrophes. She’d certainly had her fair share of lovers turned stalkers in the past, although none of them had shaken her as badly as this one.

This one felt different.

For one thing, she didn’t know who it was.

She’d confronted Roger after the first picture arrived, but his surprise had appeared genuine. He also had a beautiful new woman on his arm, which made Jenn question why he would ever bother stalking one of his least favorite exes.

She caught Remi staring at her and realized she’d fallen silent. Lifting her chin, she offered her friend a brilliant smile, while mentally shoving all dark thoughts to the back of her mind.

“Well? Go on!” She urged. “Lead me to this paradise you keep taking about.”

Remi flashed a grin and waved for her to follow.

The boat ride down the Amazon river was both terrifying and exhilarating. In some places, the river was so broad, she suspected both the Manhattan and Brooklyn bridges could be laid out nose to tail and still not span its width.

The rainforest itself was more beautiful than she’d ever imagined. Pictures just couldn’t do justice to the incredible rainbow of exotic plants and birds surrounding her, nor capture the rich symphony of sounds which filled the air.

In the golden rays of early dusk, she could see caiman, turtles, and the occasional otter perched on floating logs or basking on the sandy shore. Everywhere she looked, her view was filled with living things.

There was not a car, nor a building to be seen. Not even a road, nor a pathway through the trees. There were no candy wrappers here. No empty bottles or tin cans littering the shore. There was no sign of humanity at all.

Here, nature still ruled supreme.

The sun slipped down beneath the trees and darkness quickly consumed them. There was no electricity for street lights in this wilderness. Only a massive sky, filled with an explosion of brilliant stars, and the biggest moon she’d ever experienced.

Even the night was filled with the sounds of life. Frogs singing for mates, exotic crickets and insects buzzing in the underbrush, and a vast canopy full of birds and other creatures calling to each other as they settled down in their nests.

After a few miles, Jenn caught sight of flickering firelight ahead and heard the haunting chant of human voices.

As they drew closer, she realized there was some kind of celebration happening on the beach. Native men and women danced in the firelight to an exotic melody made by resonate drums and hand-carved wooden instruments.

For just one moment, she recalled Peter’s dire warning about cannibal tribes, and her heart skipped a few beats. These shadowy figures, streaked with red and white paint, and illuminated by flames, certainly looked like something straight out of National Geographic. Then she caught sight of Remi’s huge smile and her fear quickly faded.

Something bumped into the side of the boat, causing Jenn to startle. Tearing her gaze away from the natives, she realized that they’d pulled up to a large wooden dock, lined with propane torches.

The boatman tied up his rig, then started passing Jenn’s luggage up to a waiting attendant.

“They’ll carry everything to your room,” Remi assured her, stepping out of the boat herself.

As Jenn followed her friend up onto the dock, her gaze was drawn back down to the dancers on the beach.

“Do they live here?”

“Just down the river a bit,” Remi nodded. “Occasionally, we’ll pay them to put on a show. It helps to support their village and the tourists love it.”

The flow and tide of the dancer’s movements was hypnotic.

“I can see why,” Jenn gaped, feeling the echo of the drums as if they were resonating within her very soul. “It’s beautiful!”

“Every gesture and word tells a story,” spoke a deep and terribly familiar voice.

Jenn’s heart ricocheted off her ribs, while Remi merely beamed at the tall figure emerging from the shadows.

“Hey Jackson, looks who finally came to visit us.” Remi greeted her older brother.

He was the last man Jenn ever expected to see here. The one man she would have done just about anything to avoid, which was probably why Remi hadn't mentioned he was around.

When Jenn was a little girl, she’d fallen in love with her best friend’s brother, but Jackson had clearly seen her as nothing more than a nuisance.

Try as she might, she’d never been able to earn more than a scowl and a few terse words, until that one night, which had completely destroyed her hope of ever being anything more than his little sister’s friend and an annoyance he’d rather avoid.

As soon as he was old enough, Jackson had gone off to join the marines and Jenn had done her best to forget him.

She hadn’t seen him in years, but as he drew closer, she realized she’d never really purged herself of Jackson’s surly charm. If anything, the bastard looked even sexier than she’d remembered.

Falling head over heels in lust with her best friend’s brother was horribly cliché and embarrassing, the first time it happened. Yet she could feel the familiar storm of butterflies beginning to churn in her gut and she silently berated herself for every damn flutter.

To be fair, Jackson was living perfection. He was so tall she would have to stand on her tip toes to steal a kiss from him. With emerald green eyes and thick black hair that she’d give anything to run her fingers through.

He was wearing black slacks, beneath a black tank top, a combination which might look out of place in the city, but seemed appropriate here in the damp heat of the rainforest. It had the added benefit of emphasizing his incredibly broad shoulders and powerful arms.

She hated how just the sight of him was enough to recall all the fantasies she’d once entertained. Imagining those big, strong arms wrapped around her. Or better yet, feeling the heat of his naked body against hers, as they tumbled into bed together.

“A few weeks ago, our chief of security retired,” Remi was saying, oblivious to the crimson flush staining Jenn’s cheeks. “It was perfect timing, because Jackson was just finishing his latest tour and was looking for a civilian job to keep him busy. I talked the owner into hiring him.”

“Nice to see you again, Jenn.”

Jackson’s deep voice did terrible things to her body, forcing Jenn to fold her arms over her chest, to hide the way her nipples had perked up beneath the thin material of her blouse.

“Hi,” she mumbled, hoping that the deepening shadows would hide the desire in her eyes. Then Jackson turned to speak with his sister, dismissing Jenn with the same indifference he’d shown her as a child.

Although, she’d half expected as much, she still felt a pang of disappointment.

“It sounds like I’ll have to work tonight.” Remi made a face as she concluded the brief conversation with her brother and returned full attention to Jenn. “I'm sorry. One of the staff called in sick, so I’ve got to cover for them, but Jackson can show you around.”

“No!” Jenn answered quickly, avoiding his gaze. “I’m actually pretty tired. I’d rather just go up to my room.”

Remi frowned in concern.

“You do look like you could use the extra sleep. Are you sure everything is okay? You don’t really seem like yourself.”

“I’m sure it’s just jet lag,” Jenn assured her. “I’ll be back to my old self in the morning. I promise.”

Remi’s scowl lifted.

“Alright, follow me, I’ll show you to your room.”

Jenn couldn’t help but sneak one last peek at Jackson as Remi led her away, but she quickly snatched her gaze back when she found him watching her, his brows drawn together in a pensive scowl.

The resort was unlike anything Jenn had ever imagined. There was a huge palm-roofed lodge built just up from the river, with a swimming pool, a bar, and an immense dining hall, to create a focal point for the tourist area.

From the lodge, heading off into the rainforest, a few narrow pathways cut through the trees and underbrush to a chain of grass-roofed bungalows.

Each bungalow had a screened porch, with a hammock or two hanging inside, out of reach of the giant mosquitos which now buzzed around their heads.

Remi stopped in front of one bungalow and handed her a key.

“This is you! Isn’t it adorable?”

Remi led Jenn through the screened porch, and into an enclosed room with two single sized beds. On the far end of this room was a large closet and a small bathroom. An attendant had already brought Jenn’s suitcases up from the boat and left them in a neat stack beside one of the beds.

“I’ll just warn you right now, don’t plan to take a long shower after dusk,” Remi grinned conspiratorially. “The whole resort is eco-friendly. We use solar energy to run the water heaters, so after the sun goes down, you’ve only got about five minutes of hot water in the tank. After that, the water turns cold and won’t warm up again until morning.”

“Yikes.” Jenn eyed the tiny bathroom warily. “That’s good to know.”

“I should also warn you that there are no internal lights in the bungalows,” Remi continued. “There’s a small battery powered lamp on the table between the beds, but I’d recommend you get some sleep, because we’re starting your adventure first thing in the morning.”

Jenn quickly stepped over to push the button on the tiny lamp, then silently compared its dim glow to the powerful flashlight which Remi was carrying.

“Isn’t this great?” Remi beamed.

“Sure,” Jenn responded carefully. “Are all the bungalows like this? What about the lodge, are there rooms available in the lodge?”

“Nope. This is it. The whole resort is green and eco-friendly. Any fossil fuels must be boated down the river, and solar panels can only support a limited number of necessities, like the water heaters. That’s part of what makes this place so amazing.”

Remi was bubbling with such enthusiasm, Jenn found it hard to complain.

“It’s great,” she agreed, although maybe not what she’d expected.

“Just wait until you see what I’ve got planned for you tomorrow. You’re going to love it!” Remi gave Jenn a hug. “I wish I could stay and just chat, but I really have to get to work. If you need me, just follow the path back down to the lodge. Oh, uh, don’t wander off the path at night, okay? Stay in the torch light. It’s safer.”

Jenn didn’t dare ask why the rainforest might be unsafe at night, too many possibilities came to mind and she didn’t want any of them confirmed.

“I’ll be fine, I’m just going to get some sleep.”

Jenn watched as Remi hurried back out of the bungalow and down the shadowy path towards the lodge. The old-fashioned metal key dug into her palm as her hands closed into fists at her sides.

She’d never been afraid to be alone, not even as a child. She’d never had a reason to be afraid, before Roger’s violence had escalated and the frightening photographs had started arriving.

She needed to find her courage.

Roger was gone, he couldn’t hurt her anymore. And whoever this stalker was, she’d find a way to remove him from her life too.

If she were lucky, he’d grow bored now that she was out of the country and out of his reach.

She was a survivor, a fighter, a successful woman who was going to spend the next few weeks enjoying a once in a lifetime rainforest vacation and having fun with her best friend.

With a determined grimace, she walked back into the bungalow, shut the door and shoved the key into the lock to secure it. Then she hesitated, as she heard the outer porch door open and close once more.

Was Remi back? Had she forgotten something?

Jenn pulled the key out of the lock and was about to open the bedroom door, when a small white square of paper slid underneath, coming to rest near her foot.

Her entire body froze as she stared down at the envelope resting on the smooth wooden floor.

A note? For her? It couldn’t be. Remi or Jackson would have knocked, and she didn’t know anybody else on the resort. Adrenaline abruptly flooded through her system, as another possibility struck her.

No! It couldn’t be from her stalker. It was impossible! He was a million miles away, in New York, while she was in the middle of the Amazon, on a resort that could only be reached by boat.

There was no way! But she’d been through so much over the last few months, the fear would not be silenced. She felt trapped, threatened. It had to be a mistaken delivery, but she needed to see inside that envelope. She couldn’t allow the fear to control her.

Her entire body shook as she crouched to pinch the envelope between thumb and forefinger to lift it off the floor.

It wasn’t sealed. The photo slipped out, to land on the floor near her feet.

Her own face stared up at her. The photographer had captured Jenn’s expression as she’d been staring out the window at the Cusco airport, waiting for her charter plane to start boarding. It was a moment when she’d felt safe. When she wasn’t afraid.

She was afraid now. Terrified!

Her stalker had been at the airport, watching her. It felt like an even bigger violation of her privacy, to know that he’d seen her with her defenses down, a moment when she’d thought she was safe.

And he’d followed her to South America!

This wasn’t just a stalker, she realized now, she was really and truly in danger.

She couldn’t think clearly. All she knew was that she couldn’t stay in that room, all alone, without knowing where the creep was and how close he might be getting to her.

Panicking, she lurched upright to quickly lock the bedroom door. Then she tried to use her cell phone to call for help, but of course, there was no service. She was in the middle of the freaking Amazon rainforest. What had she expected?

This was all a huge mistake. She should never have come to South America. Why had she thought she would be safe here? At least back in New York she’d been in her own environment. She’d known who her neighbors were and who she could trust.

Here she was surrounded by strangers in a strange place, where her stalker could easily hide in plain sight. He could get close to her here. Much closer than he could have gotten to her back at home.

She wanted to scream in frustration.

She’d taken this trip to get away from this asshole, to reclaim her life, but he’d followed her!

A sharp knock on the outer porch door nearly scared her out of her skin.

Was he standing out there, waiting for her to open the bedroom door and acknowledge him? Had he been standing just on the other side of that flimsy door as she’d opened the envelope? Had he listened to her gasp of fear when she’d seen what was inside?

She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She was so terrified she was afraid she might faint, but if she did, she’d be helpless. Oh god! What was she going to do?

“Jenn? Are you in there?” Jackson’s deep voice cut through her fear and spurred her into motion.

Without thinking. Without considering the consequences. She threw open the door and launched herself into his arms.

Jackson grunted softly as her weight struck his chest, then his big hands closed around her waist, attempting to lift her away. She just dug in her nails and held onto him like a bloody big cat, clinging to the illusion of security that his presence offered.

“What the hell? You’re shaking! What’s going on?” He demanded.

The tone of his voice might once have terrified her, but now it somehow made her feel safe. It was familiar. His scent surrounded her. The hard strength of him was pressed against her, solid and safe.

“Jenn?” He was growing more concerned, but she couldn’t find her voice. She couldn’t face reality yet. She just wanted to entrench herself in his arms and hide there until the fear subsided.

Abruptly the world tilted and she realized Jackson had given up on trying to push her away and had instead scooped her up, like a baby, so he could carry her back into her room.

Tapping the door shut with his heel, he carried her over to the bed.

Although she would have preferred to remain in his arms, with her face buried against his chest and out of his sight, she didn’t have the strength to resist as he sat her down on the mattress and straightened up to tower over her with a piercing scowl and powerful arms crossed in disapproval.

“Explain.” He commanded.

It took a moment for her to work up the nerve to meet his eyes, hating the way her stomach fluttered and her gaze tried to skip off to the side. Even with all that she’d been through, with all the fear she was drowning in, one look from Jackson could still make her heart pound.

She debated telling him a lie. Something about panic attacks or some other nonsense, but even as she was attempting to form the words, Jackson spotted the photograph still clutched in her hand.

He plucked the polaroid from her grasp before she could hide it.

Jackson studied the picture, then raised stormy eyes to Jenn.

“This was taken at the airport in Cusco,” he stated flatly.

She nodded.

“Who took it?”

She shrugged, then sighed.

“I have a stalker.” She admitted softly.

“One photograph hardly constitutes…” Jackson began, but Jenn quickly started shaking her head, so he allowed her to continue.

“It started about the time Remi took the job out here and left New York. At first it was just a scribbled note attached to the windshield wiper of my car. Then another note slipped into my mailbox at home. Then the photographs started coming. Some of them were pictures of me, like that one. Others were of him, or at least… um, parts of him. Really gross stuff.”

“Did you call the police?”

She shook her head again.

“Not right away. I was embarrassed, you know? I’ve had stalkers before, I thought he’d just fade away like the others. But it got worse.” Her gaze dropped to the floor, finding it difficult to admit the really nasty stuff. “Somehow, he got ahold of my phone number and started texting pictures to me. Then calling me, but never actually saying anything. It was just, you know, the sound of him... doing stuff, masturbating...”

She fell silent as she cautiously glanced up and saw the fury in his eyes.

“You should have called me,” his furious growl surprised her.

“Called you?” She repeated. “And said what? Jeez, Jackson, I haven’t even seen you in over six years.”

“What about tonight? Is he the one who sent you this polaroid?”

She hesitantly shrugged again.

“I don't know. Maybe. It was slid under the door, just a few seconds after I closed it behind me. I think he might be here on the resort, Jackson. I’m scared. Why would he follow me all the way down here?”

She really didn’t want an answer to that, and Jackson didn’t give her one. Instead he crumpled the photograph in one powerful fist, before tossing it into the garbage under the bed table.

With his jaw clenched, he turned and collected her suitcases.

“Come on,” he snapped. “You’re not staying here tonight.”

Jenn immediately scrambled out of the chair.

“My return ticket isn’t good for three weeks,” she protested. “I can’t afford to just throw that much money away.”

He whirled on her.

“Do you really think I’d send you back to New York? After what you’ve told me?”

“Uh, I guess not.” She hesitated, “So where am I going?”

He started moving again, forcing her to follow him or give up on her luggage. She couldn’t complain about the view, his perfectly toned ass and legs really filled out those trousers.

“I’m taking you to my place.” He stated simply, but his words had a profound effect on Jenn’s hormones. She’d spent most of her awkward teenage years imagining Jackson inviting her back to his house.

Hell, she would have given about anything to just have him talk to her, which made this whole situation feel even more surreal.

Jackson led her out of the bungalow and down the boardwalk to the edge of the water.

She thought he must be taking her down to the boat dock, so she was a little surprised when he abruptly veered off onto a narrow dirt trail that led up into the thick undergrowth.

Thankfully the moon chose that moment to peek out from behind the clouds, or she might have lost him among the shadows.

It was still dark enough to make her nervous, so she moved a little faster, walking so close she could smell the faint hint of his cologne. It was something warm and sexy that made her want to get even closer, which ended with her bumping her nose into his back as he abruptly stopped in front of her.

“Ouch!”

“Are you alright?” He asked, and Jenn was glad she couldn’t see his face.

“Yeah. Fine.”

She heard keys rattling and realized they were standing in front of another small palm-roofed bungalow.

Jackson opened the door and flipped on the light.

“Come on in,” he offered, his expression much softer than it had been earlier. “I realize it doesn’t look like much, but you’ll be safe here Jenn. I promise.”

The bungalow was larger than the small huts the resort reserved for tourists, but it was clearly the home of a man who didn’t worry much about the frilly stuff.

There weren’t any pillows on the tiny couch and no paintings on the walls.

In fact, the only decoration in sight, was a small picture of Remi and Jenn on the day they’d both graduated from high school. The photo was displayed in a simple gold frame on the narrow wooden desk that occupied the wall opposite the couch.

Jackson continued past the couch and through a door at the other end of the room.

“You can sleep in here,” he offered, setting her luggage down near the king-sized bed which filled the tiny bedroom. “The bathroom is just through there. I installed a substantially larger water heating system when I moved in here, so there’s no reason to abbreviate your showers.”

She stood to one side and watched him set her bags down next to the bed.

“There are clean towels in the bathroom cupboard,” he gestured behind her, but she had eyes only for him.

“Are you going back to the hotel?”

“No. Barring a major crisis, I’m off for the rest of the night.”

“So, if I need you?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I’ll be sleeping on the couch.”

Her gaze flashed to the bed, then back to him.

“This is your bed.”

“Yes.”

That revelation made her feel very hot in a very inappropriate part of her body.

She’d never craved any man the way she’d yearned for Jackson. Now she was alone with him, in his home, being offered a night in his bed. But he had no intention of sharing it with her. She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry over her situation.

“Thank you,” she managed, as he started past her, back towards the tiny living room.

Then she did something that surprised them both. She reached out and caught his hand, preventing him from leaving.

He raised an eyebrow in question, but didn’t immediately pull his hand away.

“Don’t go?” She asked softly. “I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’ll be right in the next room.”

She forced herself to release him, but Jackson didn’t immediately leave. He stood only a few inches from her. Jenn held her breath as he reached up and brushed a few stray hairs away from her cheek.

One corner of his mouth curved up in the closest thing she’d ever seen to a smile, and her heart careened off her ribs.

“You’re safe here, Jenn.” His voice dropped to a deep rumble, which turned her knees to jello. Then his hand fell away and she watched him instantly morph back into the untouchable marine.

“Just relax and enjoy the rest of your vacation,” he commanded gruffly. “Let me worry about your stalker. I promise you, I’ll find out who this asshole is.”

It wasn’t the declaration that she wanted to hear him make, but she still managed to smile and nod before she turned her back on the man she so desperately wanted to be closer to.

Chapter 2

Jackson forced himself to walk away from the bedroom and not look back.

Jenn was his little sister’s best friend, that practically made her family. He couldn’t allow himself to feel anything more than a brotherly affection for her. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the thought of her sleeping in his bed.

In fact, he’d like nothing more than to crawl under the sheets next to her. To pull her close and feel that soft little body molded against his larger and stronger one. But he couldn’t let himself feel that way. Especially now, when Jenn was depending on him to protect her.

Any kind of distraction could put her at risk.

He’d never forgive himself if Jenn were hurt because of his carelessness, because he let himself imagine how things might have been.

He’d first really noticed Jenn after her father had died and Remi had begged for Jackson to take Jenn to the high school’s Spring Formal dance, because Jenn hadn't managed to find a date for herself.

At that time, Jackson was a freshman in college, surrounded by college girls. Yet he’d folded beneath the pressure of his younger sister and agreed to take her best friend to the dance.

For the first time, he’d seen the woman that Jenn was becoming. Brilliant but a bit shy. Beautiful yet incredibly sweet. The only thing that kept him from asking her on a real date, was his sister’s friendship with her.

There was nothing sexy about dating your little sister’s best friend, especially when there were so many college girls who begged for his attention. He’d been a snob, and he’d treated Jenn horribly that night.

After the incident, he’d immediately left the dance and taken every precaution to avoid ever being alone with her again.

Remi had been angry with him later, claiming that he’d hurt Jenn’s feelings, but Jackson had done it to save Jenn from an even greater agony. If he’d allowed himself to stay with her any longer - especially after that little stunt she’d pulled - she never would have left his side a virgin.

All night long she’d been gazing up at him with those big brown eyes, as if he were some kind of superhero. She’d blushed and smiled and nearly destroyed the fragile grip he had on his youthful libido. Then she’d gone and…

He shook his head, scrubbing a hand over his eyes as if he could erase the memory of how she’d looked when he’d rejected her. If she only knew how close he’d come to losing it that night.

Even now, so many years later, it shook him to the core whenever she smiled. But he would never let her know, because she deserved so much better than him. He just wanted her to trust him. To know that he was here for her. That was enough.

Pulling the satellite phone from his back pocket, he speed-dialed his sister. Remi answered on the first ring.

“Jackson? What’s up? You’re off duty tonight, aren’t you?”

“I was, but something came up. We need to talk about Jenn.”

Remi’s voice instantly grew serious.

“What’s wrong?”

“How much do you know about her stalker?”

“Her what? Jackson, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Jenn has a stalker and the asshole is here at the lodge, or close enough, he was able to slip a photograph under the door to her hut.”

“Is it Roger? If I catch that asshole anywhere near here, I’m going to castrate him! Maybe worse!”

“Who is Roger?”

“Her last boyfriend. He was an abusive prick. I told her to dump him months ago, but the guy was a master manipulator. They’d fight and she’d throw him out, then he’d apologize and she’d take him back again. It was horrible. If he’s sniffing around here, he better not cross paths with me. I swear to god, I’ll make that rat bastard wish he never met Jenn!”

Jackson’s forced himself to relax the death grip he now held on the phone.

“Mierda, Remi! Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

“Because she dumped him before you got back from your last tour. Or at least, she told me she dumped him. What happened tonight? What did he do?”

Jackson gave his sister a brief rundown on the night’s events, including Jenn’s declaration that she didn’t know who the stalker was. Whether that was true or not, he made a mental note to look up Roger in the morning. Maybe he’d take a short trip back to New York to teach that puta a lesson in respect.

“Is Jenn okay?” Remi drew his attention back to the present.

“She’s fine. She’s here, at my place. Sleeping.”

“Is she going to stay? I mean, here at the resort? I really wouldn’t blame her for wanting to bug out,” Remi admitted, before cursing under her breath. “How did he get here, Jackson? He would need a boat, but my guys only run paying tourists.”

“Boats are a dime a dozen upriver, and a pilot is just as cheap,” Jackson pointed out. “I’ll check with the locals to see if there’s a gringo staying in any of the nearby villages. He’d want to be close to her.”

“As soon as I get a chance, I’ll check the register here at the lodge for anyone else traveling from New York.”

“I doubt he’s stupid enough to stay at the same resort, but it’s worth a try. In the meantime, I’ll need you to clear my schedule for the next couple of weeks.”

“That’s not easy to do, Jackson. You’re chief of security. We can’t really afford to pay for a second guy right now.”

“Then I quit,” he growled. “This is Jenn we’re talking about, not just a stupid tourist who stumbled into trouble. She’s family, Remi.”

It was more than that. This wasn’t just another job to him. He was emotionally involved. He cared for Jenn, and Remi knew it.

“Alright, down boy,” his sister sighed. “You’re not off the hook as far as resort security goes, but I’ll try to free up as much time as I can for you, okay? What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to catch whoever her stalker is,” Jackson growled. “You just need to keep her preoccupied. Show her a good time, but bring her back to my place at night. She’s not safe in the camp huts, there are too many ways for someone to get in and out, unseen. I wish you’d let me install those security cameras I keep asking for.”

“I’m still trying to get that expense passed by our investors. I may run this resort, but I don’t own it. I can’t do anything without permission from the higher ups.”

He growled a few choice words under his breath.

“You only have one bedroom,” Remi mused.

“Yeah. So?”

“Maybe you’ve got ulterior motives for keeping Jenn so close?”

“I’m not going to let anything get in the way of protecting her.”

“Wouldn’t you be a lot happier if you just owned up to the way you feel about her?”

“That would only make her life more complicated. She doesn’t need any extra stress.”

“Maybe it’s exactly what she needs right now,” Remi argued. “She doesn’t talk to me the way she used to, but I remember a time when Jenn would have given anything just to hear a kind word from you.”

“Any feelings she harbored, died long ago.” He didn’t need to specify when, Remi knew.

“Maybe,” she concluded. “Maybe not. Jenn has a lot of secrets. I didn’t even know about this stalker, although I sensed she was holding something back. Talk to her, Jackson. Maybe she’ll surprise you.”

“A lot has changed since we were kids. She’s had over a dozen men pass through her life…”

“And you’ve had dozens of women pass through yours,” Remi interrupted. “But you still have feelings for her. Maybe the reason all those men only passed through her life, is because she still has feelings for you.”

“Not likely.”

“You’ll never know unless you try.”

“Then I guess I’ll never know.”

“Fine,” Remi exclaimed in surrender. “Be an asshole. Just keep her safe.”

“I will.”

“Good night, jerk.”

“Good night, brat.”

Jackson hung up the phone and stared at the picture on his desk. That photo had been taken during one of the most important events in his sister’s life. And Jenn’s too. High school graduation. But he hadn’t been there.

He’d been deployed to Syria earlier that year, so he’d missed out on their milestone. His parents had mailed the picture to him a few weeks after it was taken. He’d carried it with him for the remainder of his tour, and then again through a second tour. It was more than just a photo to him, it was a reminder of everything he’d been fighting for during those years.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed himself up off the couch and headed to the bathroom for a shower.

As he was walking back to the couch, he peeked into the dark bedroom and caught Jenn watching him.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“No. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”

“I know.”

“I let Remi know you’d be sleeping here.”

“I heard.”

Jackson felt his gut clench as he tried to remember everything he’d told his sister. Had he said anything that might be misconstrued? He wasn’t sure. Worse, he wasn’t sure if he really cared.

He’d argued the point with Remi, because she’d expected it. As her big brother, he didn’t want her prying into his love life. Or lack thereof. But he did care for Jenn. Seeing her in his bed created a deep, burning ache in his chest and an uncomfortable swelling in his groin.

She looked sleepy and vulnerable, which triggered an unfamiliar turmoil inside him. He wanted to comfort and protect, but also to caress and seduce. He didn’t think he could do both. He was afraid he might be fighting a losing battle.

“Try to get some sleep,” he murmured. “Remi will be here early in the morning.”

He intentionally closed the door behind him as he left. He felt better knowing there was a barrier between them, however thin.

Chapter 3

Jenn was awakened by the smell of coffee brewing. Although she hadn’t slept well, her stomach growled and she knew there was no point staying in bed.

She dressed quickly, pulling on a sundress made from a thin material that didn’t wrinkle after being shoved heartlessly into an overstuffed suitcase. Then she headed towards the amazing smells coming from the other room.

Jackson was standing in the small bungalow kitchen, whipping up an omelet. He must have sensed her approach, because he spoke without turning around to look at her.

“I thought you could use the sleep, so I didn’t wake you up in time for the continental breakfast at the lodge.”

“You can cook?” Jenn returned, in surprise.

“Not much,” he admitted. “Have a seat on the couch, this place is too small for a table.”

Jenn did as she was instructed and he placed a full plate on her lap.

“There might be a tv tray around here somewhere.” He started a halfhearted search, but Jenn waved him off and dug into the food. She was surprised by how hungry she was.

Jackson watched her for a moment, before turning to crack fresh eggs into a bowl and start on a second omelet. He waited until Jenn was halfway through her meal before he spoke again.

“Tell me about Roger,” he demanded with all the charm of a police officer taking a criminal’s statement.

Jenn’s stomach gave a dangerous lurch, forcing her to quickly abandon her fork and any thought of finishing breakfast. If Jackson noticed her sudden loss of appetite, it didn’t stop him from pressing her for answers.

“Remi claims the guy was abusive?”

“Yeah, that about sums him up.”

“When was the last time you talked to him?”

“A couple of months ago.”

“Is he the kind of man to hold a grudge?”

She snorted.

“Absolutely. Why?”

Jackson ignored her question and continued to drill her.

“Do you have any other abusive men in your past?”

Jenn stood up and carried the remains of her breakfast to the sink, this conversation was heading downhill fast. It was one thing to confess her terrible history to Remi. The last person she wanted to talk about failed relationships with, was the man she’d had a crush on since childhood.

If Jackson could ignore her questions, maybe she’d just take a page out of his book and change the subject.

“I better go get dressed,” she muttered, heading back towards the bedroom.

There was a crash behind her as Jackson dropped the fry pan and unfinished omelet into the sink, then whirled to grab her arm and swing her back around to face him.

“Jenn, wait.”

She yanked her arm away and moved faster, a storm of conflicting emotions welling up inside her.

A part of her really wanted to confide in Jackson, but the greater part of her was afraid and ashamed to admit just how much of a failure she was in the romance department.

It was hard enough to admit it to herself.

She only made it halfway across the living room before he grabbed her again, but this time he didn’t let her shake him off.

“Just hold on a second,” he snapped, but as Jenn geared up for a fight, he quickly softened his tone.

“I’m only trying to help,” he murmured, gentling his grasp on her arm. “I need you to talk to me Jenn, so I can figure out who is stalking you. Just trust me. Okay?”

Tentatively, almost as if he were the one who was afraid, he traced the length of her cheek with his fingertips.

Jenn felt the breath catch in her throat as her entire body responded to his touch. She wanted to press herself into his arms and beg for more, but at the same time she was terrified that this might all be a terrible mistake.

He didn’t really care for her. He’d made that perfectly clear on more than one occasion. She was just Remi’s friend to him. Yet she felt hypnotized by the sensation of his touch upon her skin.

Her mouth parted on a silent sigh as his fingertips slipped lower, to trace the curve of her lower lip. This was wrong. It was all wrong. He was making her feel things that she knew he didn't want her to feel.

Yet all too soon, he withdrew his hand.

“Don't stop.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

His eyes narrowed, but the angry rejection never came. Instead, he seemed to be hesitating.

Maybe he was lonely out here in the jungle, without an endless stream of girls throwing themselves at his feet. It looked like he was seriously considering her offer, for the first time in his life.

She knew it would only be for the night. She would just be the means for him to scratch an itch. But she was surprisingly okay with that.

They lived different lives, in completely different worlds. His place was here, in this beautiful tropical rainforest, near his sister. While Jenn’s place was back in New York, with the job she was beginning to hate and the chaotic noise that no amount of insulation could block out.

This place was like something out of a fairytale. So why shouldn’t she embrace every moment?

She placed a trembling hand against his chest and held her breath.

He didn't move away from her touch, but he slowly shook his head.

“I can’t do this and keep you safe.” His voice was so rough and deep, it sent a fresh wash of need flowing down her body.

“Please.” Her whispered plea was barely audible, but the look in his eyes went molten, as his jaw clenched against the need she could see hardening his body. He was tempted. His appetite awakened.

She began to slide her hands up the hard plane his chest, loving the way his muscles went instantly hard beneath her fingertips.

“Just give me one night,” she murmured, willing to offer just about anything to have her fantasy come true. “No commitments. No hurt feelings. Just one incredible night of sex, between consenting adults.”

His expression went hard, as he caught her wrists and prevented her from moving them up to encircle his neck.

“That’s not what I was asking for,” he growled, denying the physical evidence she could feel pressed hard and hot against her belly between them.

His rejection stabbed through her heart, but she refused to back down. It was just like that night, so many years ago.

“Why?” She demanded, curling her hands into fists on his chest. Why would she never be good enough for him? Why couldn’t he just let her have one night?

Jackson took half a step backwards, opening space between them, denying her even the bittersweet heat of his body.

“Because, if I were sleeping with you, I’d be distracted,” he answered with brutal honesty. “I wouldn’t be on top of my game. You could get hurt and I would never forgive myself.”

Before she could reply, there was a knock at the door, followed almost immediately by Remi bursting into the bungalow.

Jenn and Jackson leaped away from each other, but Remi wasn’t fooled.

“Oh my god! I knew it!” She crowed. “I knew you guys would hook up last night.”

“Don’t be crude.” Jackson growled, turning to clear the dishes in the sink. He bumped the hot frying pan with the back of his hand, and cursed violently, before adding, “We were just talking.”

Remi turned to her best friend. “Please tell me that ‘talking’ is code for having an ungodly amount of hot jungle sex.”

Jenn shook her head, finding it impossible to speak over the painful lump in her throat.

“Are you serious? What the hell is wrong with you?” Remi scowled at her brother.

Jackson chose to ignore that question, instead rounding on his sister with a severity that might have been offensive to anyone else.

“Keep Jenn within resort boundaries,” he commanded. “If you need to leave, for any reason, notify me first. I’m going to shadow you both from a distance and see if I can determine who’s stalking her. If he’s still on the premises.”

“You're not the boss of me, Officer Asswipe.” Remi fell back on a nickname she'd adopted after Jackson had joined the military. One she used whenever he'd tried to boss her around. But they all knew she would do as he said.

“In the meantime,” Jackson continued, ignoring his sister’s mockery. “I’ll have Mateo look at resort guests who registered within the last few days. I’ve already asked Alejandro to send over a log of passengers on the plane with Jenn, as well as any flights just before and after hers. Whoever it was, they knew her schedule and were at the airport to take that picture when she arrived. After 9/11, the only people allowed at the terminals are new arrivals or those waiting for a pending departure.”

“You’ll be fine,” Remi assured Jenn. “Nobody’s going to bother you while you’re with me.”

“She does have a way of driving off men.” Jackson smirked as his sister scowled and punched his bicep.

Despite their bickering, Jenn could feel the deep affection the two shared. It made her heart hurt even more, but she silently followed Remi outside, and made sure Jackson was out of earshot, before she would comment on it.

As she shadowed Remi down the path towards the main lodge, she allowed herself a moment to admire the exotic plants that surrounded her. It had been too dark to see them the night before.

Some of the giant leaves looked as if they’d been splattered by an artist using a rainbow of paint colors. She’d never seen anything like them before. Not in any book or movie she’d ever watched. They were incredible and helped to distract her from the sting of another rejection.

“Watching you with Jackson almost makes me wish I had a brother,” she finally murmured.

Remi slowed her pace to match Jenn's.

“Believe me, brothers are highly over rated.” She made a face over her shoulder. “Growing up, that jerk caused me more grief than anything else. He's okay now, but I think it's because of the war. It changed him. For the better, I think. He grew up a lot while he was over there.

“It was hard on him though. He made a lot of new friends, and then lost some of them. He doesn't like talking about it, but he gets broody sometimes, when he sees or hears something that reminds him of those years.”

“He never was much of a talker,” Jenn grimaced.

“That's for sure. Especially about his feelings. I think he'd prefer everyone just assume he's a robot, without emotions.”

“The world would sure be a lot simpler without emotions.”

Remi stopped to wrap an arm around her waist. “No way! That would be horribly boring. We might never have become friends if I hadn't been so jealous of you.”

“I can't imagine anyone being jealous of me. My life has always been chaotic. You're the one living in this incredible paradise. Speaking of which, are those big red parrots always here? I don't think they've moved much since yesterday.”

“Scarlet Macaws,” Remi beamed. “All of the birds here are wild, but the tourists feed them treats, so they’ve become extremely tame. Just like the monkeys you're going to see today.”

“Monkeys?”

“Yep! There's an island in the middle of the river where the staff, and some of the nearby natives, care for monkeys that were injured or trapped by smugglers. For one reason or another, after rehabilitation, some monkeys can't be released back into the wild population. So, the island has become a preserve where they can live in a somewhat wild manner, but still be monitored and protected. The tour guides like to take groups over to visit and feed them.”

“That sounds amazing!”

“They’re kind of a motley crew of different species, but a few of them have babies now. They’re so cute and tiny, I can’t wait for you to see them!”

They were drawing close to the lodge, which was teeming with tourists. Everyone appeared to be gathered in a large circle around something just outside the dining hall.

“Oh, what perfect timing!” Remi exclaimed, catching sight of what everyone was photographing and grabbing Jenn’s hand to drag her into the center of the crowd. “Snuffy is here! We haven’t seen him in weeks. I was beginning to worry.”

“Snuffy?”

Remi weaved through the crowd, dragging Jenn along with her.

As they reached the center, Jenn realized the tourists were taking pictures of a pony-sized creature, while the resort staff fed him treats from the kitchen.

From the rear, the beast looked like a small hippopotamus or an enormous gray pig, but as it turned to look in their direction, Jenn realized it had a short trunk, like an elephant.

“What the heck is that?”

“He’s a tapir. Isn’t he adorable?” Remi gushed, giving the hideous creature a loving pat on the rump. “He usually comes around dusk, to munch on any leftover food the kitchen staff might have available, but he’s been absent for a few weeks now. I’m so glad he’s safe!”

“Is it some kind of a pig? Or an elephant?”

“It’s a tapir,” Remi repeated, as if that explained everything. “Haven’t you ever been to a zoo?”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember seeing anything like that.”

“They’re in danger of becoming extinct,” Remi sobered quickly. “The natives once hunted them for food, but the biggest threat to them now is deforestation. A lot of rainforest animals are in trouble.”

Jenn stared as the creature used its bizarre trunk-like nose to snuffle at a tourist’s outstretched hand. It was both adorable and hideous at the same time. As she watched, the creature abruptly turned and shuffled out of the lodge, heading back towards the trees.

A few tourists followed, from a respectful distance, most attempting to snatch a few last pictures.

“I guess he’s had enough to eat,” Remi smiled. “He comes and goes as he likes. The staff makes sure the tourists don’t bother him too much.”

Jenn turned to reply, but the words never reached her lips. For just a second, she thought she’d seen someone she recognized, someone who would not have set foot in the rainforest if his life depended on it.

It couldn’t have been him, but she still found herself searching the crowd for another glimpse, just in case. He’d been turning away as she’d seen him, heading towards the bar at the back of the lodge.

She must have been mistaken.

Remi caught her hand once more, drawing her attention away.

“I’ve got a boat waiting down at the dock. Are you ready to visit the most adorable monkeys ever?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

Remi giggled, like a woman with a devious plan, but Jenn followed anyway. She didn’t have much of a choice.

Chapter 4

Jackson watched and waited until Remi and Jenn were safely on the boat to Monkey Island, with Renzo at the helm.

Renzo was a sturdy, stalwart sort of fellow. He could be trusted to keep the girls safe.

Because Remi had wanted this visit to be a special one for Jenn, she'd arranged for a private trip to the island. Having no other tourists along would allow the girls unlimited time with the monkeys, without deadlines or time shares.

It also meant that Jenn's stalker was left high and dry. If anyone from off the resort tried to visit monkey island, uninvited, they'd find themselves looking down the barrel of Renzo's ancient .45 caliber sidearm.

That man took his job seriously, and Jackson felt particularly grateful for him today. He needed to make some phone calls and take a break from watching Jenn.

He wasn't sure what that little bit of nearly transparent cotton she was wearing might be called, but it looked woefully small for a dress. He’d seen plenty of other women wearing them around the resort, presumably for comfort and to stay cool in the muggy jungle heat. But none of those other women had bodies like Jenn. Hell, she had legs to heaven and back.

Every time he looked at her, he could feel her body heat calling to him. He couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to have those long legs wrapped around his waist.

The day had only just begun, and he was already afraid of the coming evening. Would he be able to keep his distance once he was alone with her again?

If Remi hadn’t interrupted them that morning, he was sure he would have given in to the incredible need he still felt. He would have ushered Jenn back into his bedroom and kept her there, naked and screaming his name.

He would have spent hours memorizing every inch of her sweet body, first with his fingertips, then with his lips and tongue.

He would have finally discovered if she tasted just as good as she looked, while he listened to the sweet sounds of her pleasure.

Just imagining all of the things he would have done with her was enough to make him hard and hot again.

He needed an ice-cold shower, but he'd have to settle for a sobering conversation with Mateo instead.

The Peruvian native had grown up in the dust covered wasteland of Nazca, where a family was lucky if they had more than one crumbling mud wall to pin a blanket against. A poor barrier against the dust storms, or the vicious feral dogs who would prey upon any small human who was left unprotected.

But the predatory behavior went both ways. If a dog wandered too far from it's pack, a hungry family might snatch him for the stew pot.

In that poverty-stricken village, rodents and trashcans were the most reliable meals, unless you could beg a coin from one of the tourists who flew in to visit the famous Nazca Lines. But even begging could be a risky business in Nazca, because the tourist companies kept their guests secured behind twenty-foot walls, with rolls of barbed wire along the top, and guards armed with powerful machine guns out front.

A kid had to be tough to grow up in such a place. He had to be resourceful to survive.

With a father who was often gone for weeks or months at a time, working as a porter for the tourist industry, Mateo had been forced to step up and provide both food and protection for his mother and younger siblings.

As a result, the tough little Peruvian had a flexible morality. He was fiercely loyal to his friends and family, but he wasn't above bending the law now and then.

Jackson considered himself lucky to be included among the man's closest friends.

“Aló?” Mateo answered after just one ring.

“Buenas bróder, what did you learn?”

Mateo kept the conversation brief. He’d tracked down a handful of resort tourist from New York and the surrounding American states, but none of the names stood out to Jackson in any way.

There was not a single ‘Roger’ among them, but faking a passport wasn't exactly rocket science. A few guests had already left the resort and few were scheduled to arrive in the next few days. He had his work cut out for him.

“Gracias, amigo.”

“De nada.”

Jackson thumbed the end call button and headed for the security office in the main lodge. They didn't have Wi-Fi, or even a computer, but they did keep photocopies of every guest's passport and tour schedule. It was as good a place to start as any.

Jackson was buried up to his elbows in paperwork when his satellite phone chirp to life, a few hours later.

Shoving files aide, he retrieved the device and a brief message from Renzo. The girls were headed back to the resort, he'd need to finish his research later, and he hadn't found anything useful.

None of the East Coast guests appeared connected to Jenn in any way. In fact, all but three were there as couples vacationing together.

Of the three remaining individuals, one was a woman, one an older man, and the last one appeared so obsessed with the jungle insect population, Jackson was sure he must be some kind of science geek. But just in case, he called Mateo back and asked his friend to dig up any additional information he could find on each of them.

His time in the military had taught him not to underestimate anybody. People could surprise you, usually in the worst way.

Jackson reached the dock just as Renzo was helping the girls out of the boat. He caught the Peruvian's sharp gaze and gave him a nod, before fading back into the thick shrubs and undergrowth which lined the bank. He didn't want Jenn's potential stalker to catch sight of him.

He fell into step some distance behind Remi and Jenn, watching each of the vacationers the girls passed, looking for some sign of recognition or interest beyond just a passing nod.

When he heard the footsteps behind him, he brushed it off as nothing more than a tourist heading in the same direction, until the footsteps sped up.

He started to whirl towards his attacker, but it was too late, a thick chunk of moss covered wood exploded against the side of his head.

Chapter 5

It was growing dark as Remi escorted Jenn back down the beach trail towards Jackson’s bungalow. Although he’d claimed he would be shadowing them, Jenn hadn’t once caught sight of the marine among the vacationers milling around the beach or resort grounds.

Had he been called away by work? She hated to admit it, but she was disappointed and a bit hurt.

Although she loved spending time with Remi, she’d hoped to spend at least a few minutes alone with Jackson. If for no other reason, then to fantasize about what might have happened if he'd given in to her attempted seduction, and if her best friend hadn’t been around to interrupt them.

Remi knocked on his bungalow door, then preemptively unlocked it without waiting for an invitation, just as she had that morning. She flipped on the lights and revealed that there was nobody inside to welcome them.

“Looks like we lost the jerk somewhere back there,” Remi gestured over her shoulder. “I’ll hang out with you until he catches up, okay? We can raid his fridge for beers.”

“Actually, I think I’m just going to take a shower and go to bed. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“Do tell,” Remi bounced her eyebrows suggestively.

Jenn rolled her eyes. “I wish! Jackson is about as cuddly as a porcupine.”

“Porcupines still have sex,” Remi shrugged, “they just do it carefully.”

“The last thing I want, is for him to be any more careful around me.” Jenn sulked.

“So, you still like him?”

Jenn raised an eyebrow and squinted suspiciously, making Remi laugh.

“Fine, don’t admit it. I could see it written all over your face this morning, when he was holding you.”

“He wasn’t holding me, he was trying to shove me away.”

“Maybe,” Remi smirked. “Maybe not. Why don’t you tell him how you feel and see what happens?”

“I did, kind of. He said no.”

“Seriously? He really turned you down?” Remi looked so sincerely shocked, it made Jenn question her own memory.

“Why? Did he tell you that he liked me?”

Remi immediately threw up her hands and shook her head in mock horror.

“Oh, hell no! There’s no way I would ever tattle on my own flesh and blood, no matter how horribly he’s screwing up his last chance at happiness with the only woman I’ve ever deemed good enough for him.”

Jenn snickered.

“Well thanks for nothing.”

Remi snatched her into a huge bear hug.

“Try again,” she urged. “He might be able to shoot the fleas off a dog at five hundred yards, but he’s completely blind to human emotions.”

“Why not?” Jenn snarked, without really committing to having her heart broken again. “Maybe he's attracted to masochistic displays of affection.”

Remi made a face as she released her, then checked her watch and headed towards the front door.

“Lock this behind me,” she commanded. “Jackson has a key, so he can let himself in. Are you sure you’ll be okay here alone?”

“I’m a New Yorker,” Jenn snorted. “I’ll be fine.”

Remi blew her a kiss as she headed out the door.

Almost the moment Jenn was alone, she regretted sending her friend away.

Compared to the noise and chaos of New York, the rainforest felt hushed. It wasn’t exactly silent. Not by a long shot. There were exotic insects and creatures calling to each other from the darkness. Probably birds, or monkeys, or something like that, but not knowing for sure made it eerie. Like the creepy scene in a horror film, just before the serial killer leaped out of the shadows.

Shrugging off the feeling that she was being watched from the darkness outside the screened bungalow windows, Jenn headed for the bathroom to shower. Maybe the hot water would help her relax enough to get some sleep. She only hoped that Jackson’s claim about the water heater was true.

The bathroom was small, but clean. A tub and shower combo lined the far wall. To her right was the toilet and a sink with a cupboard underneath and a vanity mirror above.

Thank goodness, Jackson hadn’t been exaggerating about the upgraded water heater. She stood in the steaming spray of the shower until she finally felt the knots in her neck and shoulder muscles beginning to release, then she flicked the water off and stepped out onto the plush bathroom rug, one of the few accessories Jackson had added to the tiny room.

There was nothing on the counter, no decorative soaps in a dish near the sink. A quick peek inside the vanity mirror, revealed his toothbrush and other personal hygiene items all neatly on display.

Jackson kept his living space very clean, organized, and simple. Only the bare necessities. Nothing frilly or frivolous. She suspected it was a hangover from his years in the military.

She thought of her bathroom at home, where the countertops looked like a chaotic mashup from a bed and bath store. She loved scented lotions, so there were hundreds of bottles scattered around her apartment, many of them accumulating in the bathroom.

She also left her daily makeup products on the bathroom countertop, for quick access when she was running late for work. Along with hair products and grooming equipment.

A grin teased at her lips as she considered Jackson’s possible response to coming home and finding all her makeup and girlie accessories scattered across his pristine bathroom countertop. She might do it, just to see what he said.

Crouching down, she opened the cupboard under the sink, and found a stack of neatly folded white towels. As she selected one from the top of the pile, she discovered that these were not the standard hotel towels she’d expected. They were oversized, luxurious, and incredibly soft.

She closed the cupboard door and stood up, just as the bathroom door swung open.

Her first instinct was to defend herself from whomever was on the other side of that opening door, by throwing the only weapon at hand – the towel in her hands. Then she was stumbling backwards, knocking her heels against the edge of the tub and nearly falling into it.

Thankfully, one flailing hand caught hold of the shower curtain. It offered just enough support to keep her from tumbling ass over ears into the tub, but tore through three hooks in the process.

Rough hands caught her around the waist and jerked her upright, into a solid wall of muscles. Jenn tensed for a fight, until she looked up into Jackson’s concerned eyes.

“Jenn? What the hell?”

She released her death grip on the plastic shower curtain and slapped ineffectively at his chest.

“What the hell were you doing, barging into the room like that? You scared me half to death! Don’t you know how to knock?”

He wasn’t letting go of her. In fact, his hands tightened around her waist, holding her wet, naked body even closer to his own. The concern in his eyes was turning into something else. Something hot and hungry. Something that made her knees weak and awakened a trembling excitement down low in her belly.

“I guess I’m not used to sharing my home with anyone,” he responded, his sexy lips curling up into a devilish grin. “You threw your towel at me.”

She tried to scowl, but it was halfhearted at best.

The puckered peaks of her naked breasts brushed against his shirt and grew even harder. The heat and scent of him filled her with desire. Her body felt flushed and hot, despite the cool air now filling the bathroom.

“Jackson…?” She wasn’t sure if it was a question or a plea. All she knew was that if he didn’t do something or say something soon, she was going to spontaneously combust. Standing there, naked, in his arms, she felt too vulnerable. As if her heart were as exposed as her body. It was both torturous and heavenly.

His hands slid down her hips, and Jenn’s breath caught in her throat. The feel of his large, strong hands closing around her butt was the single most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

Jackson muttered a filthy curse as he squeezed her bottom and pulled her tight against him, where she could feel the very hard proof of his arousal. He wasn’t smiling now, the look on his face was almost pained.

“Damn it, Jenn.” His voice was guttural and harsh. “I want you so bad.”

“Then take me,” she whispered in challenge, though barely capable of words.

She could hardly breath through the need that was coursing through her body. They were so close. Only his clothing kept her from having him. All of him.

She had waited so long for the heat of his powerful body moving over her. Inside of her.

His forehead dipped to touch hers as he closed his eyes, his face a tortured mask of need.

“It’s not safe,” he began, but Jenn didn't want to hear any more excuses. Reaching up, she caught his face between her trembling hands, and pressed her lips to his.

His hands tightened on her ass, as a hungry, furious, helpless moan echoed up from his chest. Despite the chaste, sweet nature of her kiss, Jenn felt a violent shiver rip through his body.

Then something seemed to snap inside him and he was devouring her mouth, hungry and greedy, taking everything she was offering and demanding more. Not once breaking contact with her mouth, Jackson firmly seized her hips and lifted her up.

Jenn wrapped her legs around his waist, as he carried her out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. She was almost frightened by the fierce, feral need that she could feel radiating from the man who held her.

Jackson had always come across as a model of military discipline and self-control, she’d never suspected the potent depth of his passion.

He lowered her to the bed, but hovered above her, bracing himself on the elbow pillowing her head.

She felt another harsh shudder rip through his body as he looked down at her, his eyes blazing with desire.

“I need you to be sure, Jenn,” He growled, his tone begging her to send him away.

“I’m not going to be satisfied with just one night,” he warned. “If you give yourself to me, I’m going to keep you. You’ll belong to me. Only me. I won’t share and I won’t let you go. You better be damned sure this is what you want.”

His breath feathered over her lips, as his words sent waves of erotic fire licking straight down to her core. She didn’t really believe that he’d keep her forever, but she was going to take as much as he was willing to give.

“I’m sure.”

With those words, his defenses were shattered, and years of pent-up passion was set free.

Jenn traced the tattoo on Jackson's chest, directly over his heart.

An eagle, a world globe, and an anchor.

Her lifetime friendship with Remi, meant she’d seen his tattoo before and knew that it represented the insignia worn by the United States Marine Corps, but she’d never seen it so up close and personal.

It was beautifully drawn, with a waving American flag as the background, and the eagle’s mighty wings spreading up towards the heavens, as if it might tear itself free of his flesh and soar away.

He caught her hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing her fingertips before resting them back on his chest. He was still breathing heavily and she could feel the powerful beating of his heart beneath her palm.

She was almost in awe of the situation.

For years she’d wanted him, now she was naked in his arms, her body still trembling from the pleasure he’d given her.

She was almost afraid to speak, because it might break the spell, but she really needed to hear him say that what they’d just done wasn’t a huge mistake.

“What you said before, about not being satisfied with just one night, was that true?”

He groaned and peeked down at her with a serious expression, but a twinkle in his eyes that she recognized from when they’d been teenagers and he’d been teasing Remi.

“Wow, really? I know I’m out of practice, but I didn’t think I was that bad.”

She laughed.

“You know you rocked my world.”

He gave a roguish grin.

“Yeah, I know.”

“So, did you mean it?” She pressed. “Were you serious about keeping me for more than one night?”

He rolled up onto his elbow, and because she’d been lying half on top of him, she ended up on her back, with his naked body partially blanketing hers. His grin was gone now, as he met her gaze and traced the curve of her hip with his free hand.

His touch made her tremble all over again.

“Yes. I’ve denied myself for too long. I warned you, Jenn. This isn’t a game to me. Believe me when I say, I plan to do everything I can to keep you, for as long as I can. One night won’t be enough. Not by a fucking long shot.”

“Good.” She couldn’t help but smile at how solemnly he’d made his declaration. As if she might protest his desire.

His sexy mouth slowly curved up into a smile as his hand skimmed lower, making her breath catch and her body hum with renewed excitement.

“I’m glad you agree,” he purred wickedly, dipping his head to nibble at her neck. “Because I plan to spend all night doing nasty things to this pretty little body of yours, starting with this…”

Chapter 6

Jackson stood in the tiny bungalow bathroom and inspected the swollen bruise over his left ear. His hair was just long enough to hide it, but whoever had been holding the other end of that log had meant business.

He would have preferred to stay in bed all day, making love to Jenn over and over again. Now that he’d had a taste, he wasn’t sure if he could ever get enough of her. She was a passionate lover, but she was also an incredibly strong woman, with a good heart and a desire to protect others.

He suspected that was the reason she hadn’t told Remi about her stalker, and he could understand. He often preferred to keep his sister in the dark, rather than cause her any unnecessary worry. Not that Remi was in any way incapable of handling stress, his sister was a freak of nature when it came to stressful situations, which was why she made such a good manager for the resort.

No matter what chaos the patrons threw at her feet, Remi always managed to find a solution, but he didn’t see any reason to add to that stress, which was why he hadn’t told his sister or Jenn about being ambushed the night before.

He’d meant to call the village police after he’d arrived home, but then he’d walked in on Jenn in the bathroom. The sight of her naked body had instantly cleared the remaining fog in his head, and driven away all thought, except for his need to possess her.

He’d spent all night tasting and touching her, memorizing all of the most sensitive, erotic places on her body. He’d loved how eager and adventurous she’d been, seeking to give him just as much pleasure as she was receiving.

One thing was for sure, he wouldn’t be ready to let her go after just three weeks. Hell, he could spend a lifetime making love to her and it would never be enough, but he doubted she was ready to hear that yet.

For so many years he’d forced himself to just focus on the next mission, the next deployment. Then finding a place for himself civilian life and caring for Remi. Now he was thinking ahead, to what the future might be like, if Jenn were a permanent fixture in it.

He peeked through the bedroom door to assure that she was still asleep, before stepping out of the bungalow to make a few phone calls.

He needed to alert Mateo and Alejandro to the attack. Clearly, Jenn's stalker was still in the area, and Jackson's efforts to shadow the girls had not gone unnoticed.

After trading off the facts with his team, he broke down and alerted the Policía Nacional del Perú.

Although officers of the law preferred not to step into jungle village problems, they could be vigilant when it came to protecting tourists, because tourism was such a vital part of the economy.

The officers immediately demanded that Jackson to come to the nearest station for them to take photographic evidence of his injury, but he didn’t want to leave Jenn alone for even a moment. Instead, he mollified them with assurances that he already had a team of security professionals searching for the culprit.

He also offered a few details he'd learned about Jenn's stalker, pointing out the possibility of the ambush being connected. That should grease the wheels for a quick incarceration, as soon as they had that hijo de perra in custody.

The stalker was probably still lurking about the resort. His attack on Jackson was most likely a warning to back off.

Thank god Jackson had such a thick skull. He’d been through worse. The attack had only knocked him unconscious for a few moments. Just long enough for his attacker to take off running through the trees and make a clean getaway.

Jackson hadn’t even gotten a good look at the guy, just the blurry glimpse of a dark jacket vanishing into the rainforest. By the time he’d recovered enough to stand and pursue his attacker, the guy had vanished.

Having lost sight of the girls, he’d immediately called Remi and been informed that she had just left Jenn alone at his bungalow. He'd hung up on her lecture and run like the devil was on his heels.

When he’d arrived home, he was expecting the worst. His heart had been his throat as he'd slipped the key in the lock and crept inside.

There was no sign of a struggle, which had him silently praying that he'd reached the bungalow before the man who'd ambushed him. Maybe the coward had lost track of the girls as well. There might still be time for Jackson to set up an ambush of his own.

Then he’d walked in on Jenn, fresh out of the shower and naked as the day she was born.

He snorted as he recalled the look on her face when she’d thrown her towel at him. Her towel! As if a towel could have stopped a real attacker.

That thought sobered him up pretty quick. The thought of her naked and helpless in front of some sick-minded stalker made his gut clench in fear.

One of the first things he needed to do, was teach Jenn some basic self-defense techniques. He’d rather have her throw a punch at him next time, and feel confident that she could defend herself if the situation got ugly.

With his mandatory phone calls completed, he headed back into the bungalow and found Jenn still sleeping. The covers had slipped down to her waist, revealing her beautiful naked breasts.

Jackson felt his entire body go hard at the sight of her. She was so damned sexy, even while she was asleep. Why the hell had he waited so long to make her his?

He closed the bedroom door behind him, stripping back out of the sweat pants he'd been wearing, as he stalked his sleeping beauty.

Jenn made a sexy, sleepy sound as he slipped under the sheets and pulled her snuggly up against his body. With a husky giggle, she wiggled her bottom against his rigid dick, and just about drove him out of his mind.

“Well, well…” she purred playfully, “What do I have here?”

He never had a chance to answer.

Both of them jumped at the sound of Remi barging in the front door, just as she had before. This time, she clearly noticed the lack of bedding on the couch, and correctly guessed that they were both in the bedroom, together, with the door closed.

A moment later, she was gleefully pounding on the bedroom door.

“Hey, you two! Wake up! I need to gloat over how I’m always right, and how perfect you are together!”

Chapter 7

“Go away!” Jackson yelled, but Remi only laughed.

“Not a chance, Romeo! You can have her back tonight, but her days belong to me! Assuming she can still walk.”

“Get out, or I’ll throw you out and change the locks!”

“You always say that. Send my girl out, or I’m coming in after her!”

“She’s not going to leave without me,” Jenn made a face as she crawled out of the bed and began shuffling around in her luggage for a suitable outfit.

“Just hold on a second,” Jackson commanded, attempting to untangle himself from the sheets so he could get dressed as well. “I want to follow along again today.”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Jenn argued. “I think we fooled my stalker with the move from the resort bungalow.”

She thought she saw a dark shadow flicker across Jackson’s eyes, but he said nothing. With an annoyed growl, he shoved his legs into clean pants and yanked a shirt over his head.

This was the Jackson she remembered from youth. Tense, surly, and hell-bent on having things his way. Well, she’d sure shaken things up last night. There were a couple of times when she had him on the verge of begging.

Smug pride welled up inside her as she recalled the hours she’d spent in his arms. He was an amazing lover, but she had a few tricks as well. She was pretty sure she’d rocked his world just as thoroughly as he’d rocked hers.

“You’re not in a position to argue,” Remi's muffled voice added from the other side of the door.

Jenn suspected her best friend had an ear pressed to the wood barrier, so she thought it best to forego one last kiss with Jackson, and reluctantly headed out to the living room.

“So, guess what I’ve got planned for today?” Remi immediately chirped, before sticking her tongue out at Jackson, and tucking one of Jenn's hands possessively into the crook of her elbow.

“I’m a little bit scared to ask,” Jenn admitted. “Does it involve eating anything that wriggles? Because I’d rather just skip that part and go do some actual sightseeing.”

While they'd been exploring Monkey Island the previous day, they'd come across a large nut tree, and Remi had asked their boat man to crack a few open to show Jenn the huge grubs which lived inside the nuts.

Apparently, the grubs were a delicacy among the natives, and resort employees occasionally liked to offer them to the tourists on their guided hikes through the jungle.

Instead of answering, Remi giggled in a way that made her nervous.

“Do you remember that treehouse Jackson had as a kid?”

“I remember we snuck up there a few times and he was furious when he found out.”

“Just wait until you see the one we have now!”

Well, that sounded a lot better than eating live insects, but Jenn wasn't sure if she trusted the conspiratorial look that passed between Remi and Jackson.

Her suspicions were confirmed after a grueling march through the rainforest, when stood staring up at a rickety wooden staircase, which vanished into the leaf canopy above.

“You’re a sadist,” she panted, trying to catch her breath from the hike. “Who built that antique? Christopher Columbus?”

Remi snickered behind her.

“It's not that bad. Just wait until you see the view from the top!”

“You can't seriously expect me climb that?”

Remi looked entirely evil as she bobbed her eyebrows and pointed to the rickety threshold.

“Start climbing, chica!”

Instead of obeying, Jenn raised her hands and backed away.

“Oh, hell no! I can't even see the top! Are you trying to get me killed? Where's Jackson when I need him?”

“Right behind you, sexy.” His deep voice spoke up from directly behind her, startling a sharp squeal out of Jenn.

“Don't scare me like that, you jerk!”

He raised an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth curled up. Damn him for being so sexy, she couldn't even stay angry.

“Have you been following us this whole time?”

His humor faded as he gave a curt nod.

“Yeah, but I may not be the only one trailing you.” He tipped his head towards the rickety staircase. “We'll be able to see quite some ways from up there. Maybe we’ll get a peek at your stalker.”

Jenn gaped in horror.

“Are you seriously going to climb up there?”

He chuckled, as if climbing prehistoric treehouses was a common activity in his life.

“I'm not letting you out of my sight for even a second,” he suggested, catching her hips between his strong hands. “So, you're climbing it too.”

“Like hell I am!” she protested, attempting to wiggle free, but his hands tightened around her, as that smirk returned to his lips.

“Well, you could climb it…” he drawled, playfully. “Or I could carry you up.”

“Ew, stop it you two!” Remi scolded. “Save all that cute, lovey-dovey stuff for tonight. After I'm gone. We're climbing trees right now. Focus on the fun!”

“Just for the record, I prefer your version of fun.” Jenn fluttered her eyelashes up at the man holding her, startling a bark of laughter out of Jackson, while Remi just rolled her eyes.

“Sorry sweetheart, flattery won't save you,” Jackson replied, still chuckling as he guided her to the stairs and gave her a firm smack on the butt. “Start climbing.”

“You first!”

With a shrug, Jackson turned and began striding up the creaky stairs, but there was no escaping the fierce-eyed Remi behind her.

Jenn procrastinated for as long as she could, hoping Jackson would return and admit that it was all a joke, then Remi grabbed her hand and started pulling her up the steps.

To her surprise, the structure felt a lot sturdier than it looked.

She climbed and climbed, until she was out of breath, but the view was incredible! No wonder Tarzan and Jane had made their home in the jungle treetops.

She was surrounded by miles and miles of beautiful rainforest. There were no buildings, no roads, no telephone wires, no signs of human life anywhere.

Was this what God had seen, looking down upon a newly formed earth, before mankind had completely screwed things up?

It was so gorgeous, it was nearly enough to make her cry, and she still hadn't reached the top.

How much further did she need to climb?

The question died on her lips as she took another few steps and found herself staring at the sexiest version of Tarzan she'd ever encountered.

Jackson had stripped off his shirt, and his ridiculously sexy chest was now damp with sweat. He was so tanned and toned, his tattoo perfectly accentuated by those well defined pectoral muscles.

Momentarily stunned by the view in front of her, Jenn failed to watch her feet. As a result, she tripped on a loose floorboard and stumbled hard against the side railing.

“Madre de Dios!” Jackson snatched her into his arms, looking as if he thought she were attempting to jump. “We’re over a hundred and fifty feet up! If you fall from up here, you won’t be walking away from it.”

“Thanks for adding to the fear, which is now going to choke me to death. Seriously, this is really, really high! Does the resort have insurance against accidental death or dismemberment?”

“Of course,” Remi spoke up from behind her, “But this place is just outside the resort boundaries, so if you fall, we’re in the clear.”

“Comforting.” Jenn grimaced.

“Fine, we'll do something really tame after this. Okay? We'll get Renzo to take us out on the river tonight, so we can spot caiman. They make the craziest sounds. You'll love it!”

“Uh, I think that falls under the creepy crawly category.”

“It’s fun!” Remi laughed. “Right Jackson?”

Her brother offered a grunt in reply. Now that both girls were safely at his side, his attention had turned to the rainforest below them.

Jenn struggled to decipher his expression.

“Is everything okay?”

“It will be,” he replied, without looking at her. “But I need to get back down there. You stay with Remi, alright? Stay together. I'll see you tonight."

He gave Jenn a quick peck on the cheek, and vanished back down the stairs even faster than he'd climbed them

He never reappeared.

Jenn and Remi made the grueling hike back to the resort without a single glimpse of the man who was supposed to be keeping them safe.

Jackson was already at the bungalow when the girls returned, which earned a few sharp remarks from his sister.

While Remi and Jackson bickered, Jenn shuffled weary feet into the bathroom and flipped on the shower. She needed some time to soak in the hot water and try to untangle all of her conflicting emotions.

Jackson had made promises to keep her safe, and in his bed, yet he kept vanishing, and going through periods where he acted aloof and distant from her.

When she heard the bathroom door open and close, she knew it was him, but she wasn't sure how she should feel about his silent presence.

What she didn’t expect was for him to abruptly step into the shower behind her.

“What are you doing?” She gasped, finding it impossible to keep her gaze from traveling down his stark-naked body.

Holy heavens!

Although they'd spent the previous night together, it had been dark. She'd never seen him like this before, with everything on display.

Those years in the military had carved his already strong body into a living machine, with the stamina and endurance to fight, even in extreme climatic and terrain environments. Every scar he wore was a testament of his battle time and valor. He was awe inspiring.

Jackson made no attempt to hide anything as he reached up to gently lift her gaze.

Was that concern shining in his eyes? Or doubt?

“Remi thought I'd abandoned you at the tree house. Were you afraid?”

Jenn shook her head. Afraid, no. Angry, maybe.

“You must have had your reasons,” she responded, turning away from his touch. “I only wish I’d been quick enough to follow you, rather than get dragged home the long way by your sister.”

She reached for the soap, but he took the slippery bar from her hand. She made a face, but was really too tired to lecture him on waiting his turn. Instead, she just watched as he rolled the bar between his hands, working up a thick lather.

When he dropped the bar back into the dish, she reached for it again, but Jackson shifted his weight, blocking her with his hip.

Looking sharply up in reproach, she caught sight of the pure evil in his eyes, and felt her anger melting into a wary curiosity.

“Turn around,” he urged.

Still not entirely sure if she trusted him, she went ahead and did as he directed.

As she exposed her back to him, he began to rub his soapy hands up and down her naked body. Over her back, spending a little time kneading at her shoulders, then down over the curve of her hips, to squeeze her bottom.

With every luxurious stroke, she could feel her reservations melting away.

He slipped his hands around to wash her belly, then up to swirl around her breasts, and she swayed into his arms, a soft gasp of pleasure escaping her lips.

His body rubbed against her soapy back, hard and hot, making her thighs tremble as her need for him grew.

When she was nearly delirious, he tugged her back under the hot stream of water to rinse her clean.

He used what was left of the soap to do a quick scrub of his own body, then rinsed and climbed out of the shower to fetch two towels.

Jenn was more than ready to join him in the bedroom to finish what he’d started, but he surprised her by snatching her off her feet and carrying her to the bed.

Once he’d lowered her onto the mattress, she decided it was time that she showed him he wasn’t always going to be the one in control.

She caught his chin and tilted his eyes up to meet hers, just as he'd done to her in the shower.

“Do you trust me?” She asked a mirror of the question she was still struggling with, but he looked her right into eyes and grinned.

“Sure.” It sounded like more of a challenge than an answer.

She wished she shared his confidence, but trust him or not, she desired him. That was enough for now.

She returned his grin.

“Okay, then just lie back and let me have a little fun.”

She could see him struggling with complete surrender, but he obeyed her commands, and she found it incredibly sexy.

If her surly, stubborn marine could trust her enough to give her complete control of his body, maybe she could trust him too.

Chapter 8

A nightmare snapped Jenn from her sleep much sooner than she would prefer

The sky outside was beginning to grow pale with coming dawn, so there was no use trying to go back to sleep. Remi would be arriving within an hour or so, to drag her out on another adventure. Fishing for piranhas, in crocodile infested waters, or something similarly frightening.

As much as Jenn adored her friend, and appreciated all that she was trying to do, Jenn would be just as happy to curl up on a chair near the resort’s pool and soak up some sun. Maybe she’d better remind Remi that this was supposed to be a relaxing vacation not a rainforest survival camp.

As quietly as possible, Jenn managed to creep out of bed without awakening the sleeping man on the other side.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, she decided to have some coffee brewing before Jackson woke up.

Heading to the kitchen, she located the percolator, then began shuffling through cupboards in search of coffee grounds. To her surprise, most of the cupboards were filled with boxes and files. He must eat most of his meals up at the hotel, which made sense, now that Jenn thought about it. But if he had brewed coffee for her the first morning, surely there must be more of the stuff somewhere.

She started searching kitchen drawers.

The first drawer contained the expected kitchen utensils.

The second drawer was filled with an orderly assortment of office supplies and hand tools, like screwdrivers and pliers. It was an odd collection to find in the kitchen, but she supposed the chief of resort security might occasionally be called upon for basic maintenance problems.

She opened the third drawer, and felt her blood turn to ice in her veins.

This drawer contained a file filled with photographs, all of which she immediately recognized, because she had their duplicates at home in a folder she was saving to give the police.

With trembling hands, she pulled the photos out of the drawer, piece by damning piece. She could think of only one reason why Jackson might have duplicate copies of all the pictures her stalker had sent to her.

A cold ball of dread formed in her stomach, then twisted and warped into a tidal wave of anger and betrayal. These photographs could only be here if Jackson was her stalker, or if he were somehow involved with the person stalking her.

There were little notes jotted on the backs of each photograph. Just a brief sentence or two, detailing what she had been doing when the picture was taken.

It was all extremely organized and professional, just the way she imagined a private investigator would track a subject. Exactly what she would expect from a marine turned chief of security.

But Jackson never would have made those obscene phone calls. Nor would he have sent her those vile pictures of male body parts.

Would he?

Jackson had been absent from her life for so many years, she really didn't know how the war might have changed him.

She could hear Peter’s nagging voice in her head, droning on about how war would sometimes warp the personalities of the soldiers. Often, they came home with terrible depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress, and a number of other mental or emotional troubles.

Was it possible that war had changed Jackson so much? She hadn’t really seen or talked to him since she was in high school and he was just preparing to enlist. During the rare occasions when he’d been on leave, he’d always avoided her.

Remi claimed that he’d grown up a lot during his two tours, but she’d never said anything about any kind of psychological break. No reason why he would suddenly want to take pictures of his genitals and send them to a person he’d spent over two decades avoiding.

She couldn't wrap her mind around any of it, but she was sure of one thing, she needed to hear Jackson's side of the story before she made any decisions on how to proceed.

She started collecting all of the photographs and tucking them back into the folder they'd slipped out of when she'd so hastily opened the drawer.

An abrupt knock on the door nearly startled her out of her skin, but she managed to recover in time to close the drawer before Remi burst into the bungalow.

“Oh, damn, you're already awake,” Remi laughed, “I was hoping to catch the two of you naked in bed, for some blackmail photos.”

Jenn startled again at the mention of photos, but she managed a wan smile.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, and… ew!”

“Exactly! Come on, I've got a big day planned. Jackson can catch up, he knows the way.”

“Actually, I kind of needed to talk to him first,” Jenn began, but Remi was already grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the door.

“You can talk to him tonight. We agreed, I get you during the day, he can have you after the sun goes down.” Remi gave her a bawdy wink as she continued pulling Jenn towards the door.

“At least let me get dressed!” Jenn protested.

Remi glanced down at Jenn’s cotton shorts and ratty tank top, then gave a dramatic sigh and released her.

“Fine, but hurry up, and tell that lazy brother of mine to get his ass up and moving. He should be serving you breakfast in bed, after all he's put you through.”

If you only knew the half of it, Jenn thought, feeling her heart breaking a little at the possibility of Jackson being behind so many horrible, sleepless nights in New York. All of her fear. All of the months filled with dread. She wasn't sure she could handle the truth, but she was damn sure she'd get it as soon as she had Jackson alone.

Unfortunately, that would have to be another time. As she reached for the bedroom door, it opened and Jackson stepped out, already dressed.

“Sorry, I didn't hear you get up.” He smiled, but Jenn avoided his gaze, ducking under his arm and heading straight for her luggage. She wasn't sure she if she could bear to have him touch her right now.

She wasn't sure how she was going to get through this day. All she could think about were the photographs. She could only hope that Jackson stayed true to form in his pretense of keeping her safe, by following her from a distance. She needed to keep an eye on him.

His behavior the last few days had been suspicious, to say the least. He claimed he was following her, but she never saw him. Then yesterday he'd practically abandoned her and Remi at the tree house, before warping into the prince of seduction in the shower.

Was he trying to use sex to distract her? If so, what was he trying to hide? Aside from the damning photographs he had in his kitchen drawer.

She needed to talk to him alone, without Remi hovering nearby. Until that happened, she needed her space. But she couldn't help dreading the confrontation that was coming. It twisted at her gut and made every passing hour feel like an eternity.

By the time dusk finally arrived, she was absolutely sick with dread, dragging her feet as Remi headed back down the path from the lodge to Jackson’s secluded bungalow.

She didn’t think Jackson would really hurt her, but she knew that unless he had a very good reason for what he’d done, it was the end of their relationship before it ever really had a chance to begin. If it could even be called a relationship.

She’d go back to New York and burn the box full of letters and photographs she’d collected for the police. Then she’d do her best to pick up the shattered pieces of her heart.

Who knew betrayal could hurt this much?

She caught Remi watching her as she unlocked the door.

“Are you okay, Jenn? You look like you’re going to throw up. Maybe we shouldn’t have had that second helping of mango ice cream?”

“I do feel nauseous,” she agreed, but it didn’t have anything to do with the food they’d eaten.

Stepping quickly inside, she looked around and found that Jackson wasn’t in the bungalow. She felt a rush of dread, knowing that she hadn't seen him for hours. That was far too long of a disappearance. Something was wrong, she could feel it.

She couldn’t get rid of Remi fast enough, practically shoving her best friend out the door with excuses that she was going to be sick and needed to be alone.

As soon as Remi was gone, Jenn hurried to the kitchen drawer. Yanking it open, she found the file gone and the drawer empty.

The bungalow door abruptly opened behind her and she stood to confront the man who had entered.

“Where did you hide them?” She demanded, the pain nearly blinding her. “Jeez, Jackson, I trusted you! I slept with you! How could you look me in the eyes and lie like that? Pretending like you were the big hero marine that was going to keep me safe. That is really sick!”

His expression went stone cold as he silently closed the door behind him.

“What happened?” He demanded in a muted growl. “What are you talking about?”

“The pictures, Jackson! The file you’ve been keeping on me, full of photographs and notes about where I went and what I was doing.” She slammed shut the now empty drawer and folded her arms over her chest, fiercely trying to hold in all the shattered pieces of her heart. “I just need to know one thing, who is your partner in New York? I know it wasn’t you sending me the dick pics, so it must have been whoever you had following me. Who was it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” His hands curled into white knuckled fists at his sides, but he held his position in front of the door, blocking the only path of escape.

“Just tell me the truth,” she demanded, scrubbing away the tears which were threatening to blind her. If nothing else, she at least deserved to now why he'd done what he'd done. Maybe she could understand, if she just heard his reason. If he would just be honest with her. Maybe they could still salvage something of their relationship. A neutral place which would allow her to continue her friendship with his sister and not make future interactions between them feel so terrible.

“The truth is, I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about,” Jackson snarled, shattering the last of her hope.

It killed her how easily he could lie to her.

“I saw the folder, Jackson,” she sighed, calling him out. “It was right here this morning. You must have moved it after Remi and I left, during those hours when you claimed you would be following us, keeping us safe.”

His fierce gaze flashed from her to the drawer, as a flicker of surprise crossed his face.

“You saw the pictures, in there?”

Jenn nodded, wishing desperately for all of this to be over. She just couldn't bear it any longer. It hurt to much. Of all the men in her life, she'd cared for this one the most. His betrayal cut her deep.

“It was here when I left with Remi this morning.” Her voice sounded hollow, even to her. “Only you and Remi have keys, but Remi has been with me all day.”

She watched as he uncurled one fist to look down at the keys he still held. Then he glanced towards the door, which had automatically locked once more behind him.

“I looked for you today,” she admitted, feeling sad. “You vanished, for hours, just like yesterday, and the day before. Where do you go, Jackson? Is this all just some kind of game to you? Something to keep you entertained until you are called back to active duty?”

His expression was hard and unreadable, the emotionless marine, as he met her eyes and shook his head.

“Are you sure you saw a folder full of pictures in that drawer?”

“Are you kidding me?” She snapped. “Are you really going to pretend that I hallucinated the whole thing? Are you trying to make me believe that I’m crazy? Because you and your sick partner have certainly driven me right to the edge over these last few months!”

He shook his head and took a step towards her, but she held out her hands to ward him off.

“No! You don’t get near me! Not until you tell me why you did it. Tell me, Jackson. Please!” She was begging him now. Begging him to give her an answer that made sense. “Maybe you hired the investigator to keep tabs on me because you were worried about me? But the creep investigator got too caught up in his game? Is that what happened?”

She wanted to believe that it was anything else. Anything, but that Jackson was a battle-warped deviant who just couldn’t get military ops out of his blood and needed something to entertain himself after he’d entered the private sector.

As she counted back the months, she realized the timeline was too perfect. The first letters had started to arrive just after Jackson would have finished his second tour.

“No,” Jackson’s voice was pure ice. “That’s not what happened.”

“Then tell me the truth. Why? Why would you do this?”

“I didn’t do it. I do keep a lot of files in the kitchen, but none of them contain photographs of you. The only picture I have of you, is the framed one... there,” he pointed to the desk. “That’s the truth.”

An agonizing lump threatened to choke her as hot tears continued to leak down her cheeks.

She wanted to believe him, that was the worst part. She would rather believe that she’d hallucinated the folder, than that Jackson was lying to her. But she couldn’t deny what she’d seen and held in her hands only a few hours before.

Half blinded by her tears, she shoved past him and headed for the bedroom.

Stumbling, fumbling with numb hands, she collected her things and shoved them ruthlessly back into her suitcases. She thought of the first night she’d spent in the rainforest, when the photograph had been slid under her door.

Jackson had knocked on her door, not more than a few seconds later. He would have seen someone else leaving, if there had been someone else. But it had been him all along. She was such a fool!

“What are you doing?” he demanded, standing with his powerful legs braced apart and his arms folded over his chest. Like a prison warden. Her warden.

She felt a sudden rush of fear as she realized that he could easily do more than simply prevent her from leaving.

Her thoughts went to what Peter had told her, just before she’d boarded the plane to South America. Down here, the laws were different. People disappeared all the time. Often women.

She thought of the piranhas and the caiman in the river. A killer certainly wouldn’t lack for ways to make a body vanish. But Jackson would never try to hurt her, would he? She knew that he must have killed people during the war, but that was different. Wasn’t it?

“I’m going to walk up to the lodge and find Remi,” Jenn returned, hating the wobble in her voice. She needed to be strong, she needed to think clearly, but her heart was hurting so bad she couldn’t focus on anything else.

“It’s not safe,” Jackson remained firm in his position. “You need to stay here, where I can protect you.”

“Where you can protect me?” She snapped, taking strength from the sudden rage which filled her. “Protect me from what, Jackson? From who? I think it was you all along. You and someone that you hired to follow me around New York. I think this was all just a game for you. A sick, terrible game, which I’m done playing.”

She yanked at the handles of her suitcases, but in two strides he covered the space between them and caught her wrists, forcing her to release the luggage.

“You’re not leaving until I can figure out what’s going on.”

“The hell I’m not!”

Bags or no bags, the only way he could stop her, was to prove that he was every bit the asshole she was accusing him of being.

“Jenn,” his voice gentled, but his grip on her wrists remained firm. “I warned you, this isn’t just a one-night stand for me. I care about you.”

“Then why would you lie to me?”

“You want the whole truth?”

“Yes!”

“I love you, Jenn. I’m pretty sure I’ve been half in love with you since we were kids.”

Her jaw dropped, shock and disbelief battling the overwhelming pain. To be fair, Jackson looked pretty fucking shocked as well, as if the words he’d spoken weren’t at all the ones he’d planned to say.

“I don’t have a folder full of photographs. I haven’t been stalking you. But I’ve thought a lot about you over the years and I've regretted pushing you away. If you believe that you saw a file here, then I’ll believe you,” he paused and released her wrists so he could gently cup her face in his palms and force her to meet his intense gaze. “But you’ve got to believe me. I never saw it. Whoever put it in my kitchen must have taken it away after you saw it. Probably the same person who hit me in the head the other day.”

Her jaw snapped shut with an audible click, then opened again, as she floundered for words.

“Someone... hit you?”

He nodded, raising a hand to sweep back his hair and reveal the ugly bruise which discolored his scalp.

“While I was down, he must have fished the keys out of my pocket. He’s probably got duplicates of them all, which means he could get in or out of the bungalow, the lodge, and my office here on the resort. I’ll need to let Remi know so we can change all the locks.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that someone attacked you?”

“I meant to, but I was distracted by your wet, naked body, and the towel you lobbed at my head.”

Jenn recalled him walking in on her, fresh from the shower… and the passion which had followed. Her cheeks warmed even as the jigsaw pieces of her broken heart were attempting to glue themselves back into place.

He had a bruise on his head. Yes, he could have gotten that bruise from anywhere, but she really wanted to believe that he cared for her, and that he was telling her the truth. That he loved her.

He’d actually used the word love.

The Jackson she remembered would rather take a bullet than admit to loving anyone. He and Remi often used other ways to express their feelings for each other, calling each other names and such, but she couldn’t recall either of them ever using the word love.

It wasn’t like Jackson to make such a blatant declaration, but she refused to allow herself to be suspicious.

She had wanted him to care about her for so long. Why did it feel like he was only telling her now so that he could control her, or manipulate her?

She stomped down the tendrils of doubt and suspicion which still attempted worm their way into her thoughts.

“So, you think someone snuck into the bungalow and put the file in the kitchen for me to find?”

He gave a slight shake of his head.

“I don’t know. Perhaps.” His eyes were unreadable.

“What should we do?”

“For now, I think we could both use some sleep.”

Her gaze flicked to the bed, then to the man towering over her.

She didn’t believe that Jackson would intentionally hurt her, but she was too unsettled to sleep beside him, at least for the night.

He seemed to recognize her desire for isolation, but he didn’t look happy about it.

“I need to make some phone calls,” he suggested, turning to walk out of the bedroom and leave her alone. “I’ll probably be up late, so I’ll just crash on the couch tonight. You try to get some sleep.”

They both knew it was an excuse, but she made no attempt to argue. She needed some space. She needed a little time to figure out what she was feeling. To unravel the knot of emotions bound up in the pit of her stomach and constricting her breath.

Things were moving too fast. She had emotional whiplash from the betrayal she’d felt all day, skidding into the fear she’d felt moments before, which had crashed headlong into Jackson’s strange declaration of love.

Her heart was a jumbled wreck. Her thoughts were just as muddled.

The moment Jackson was out of the bedroom, she closed the door tightly behind him.

Her fingertips hesitated over the lock, then curled into a tight fist, which she lowered to her side. If Jackson wanted to hurt her, a locked door wouldn’t stop him.

Instead of locking the door, she reached over to switch off the light, then turned walked back to the bed in the dark.

She didn’t have the energy to dig her night shirt back out of her suitcase. She was so emotionally and physically exhausted. The rainforest nights were warm enough. She stripped down to just her panties and crawled under the sheets.

Closing her eyes, she tried to listen for any sound from the other room, but if Jackson were talking on the phone, he must be keeping the conversation very quiet. She couldn’t hear anything over the soft trilling of some exotic bird outside the window.

A part of her hoped that Jackson would join her in the bed, and hold her close while she slept, as he had the night before. She hadn’t slept so well in a long time. She’d felt so safe in his arms, and so happy.

Tomorrow they’d get this whole mess sorted out. Once she’d had some sleep, she wouldn’t be so confused. She’d see that it was just the fear her stalker had fed into her these past months, which made her so distrustful now. Which made her see evil in places where it couldn’t possibly exist. Like in Jackson.

Chapter 9

Jackson paced the tiny living room floor, scrubbing a rough hand over weary eyes.

Too soon, it was all too soon. He never should have said anything to Jenn, but especially not now, when she was already questioning his motives and morality. She’d put him on the spot, and he’d blurted out the truth, when he should have just kept his damned mouth shut.

Stalkers often believed themselves in love with their victims. From what Jenn had told her, whoever was stalking her did indeed have an unhealthy attraction to her. She’d claimed to have received pornographic messages and pictures from the guy.

For Jackson to tell her that he loved her, when she was already feeling afraid and betrayed, no doubt sounded both insincere and suspicious. But he had no idea how to correct the situation now. He’d never professed his love for a woman before. He’d had no intention of telling Jenn how he really felt either. It had simply slipped out of him.

It was too late to take back what he’d said. He’d just need to find a way to make it right. To prove that she could trust him. That he would keep her safe, even if she chose not to welcome him back into her bed.

Mierda! He hoped it didn’t come to that. He hadn’t realized how much he’d cared until he’d held her in his arms. When he’d held her, and made love to her, it had released years of suppressed desire, like a genie from a bottle. He wasn’t sure he could let her go now, even if she refused him. Which was the last thing Jenn would want to hear right now.

If he even hinted at how fiercely he would fight to keep her in his life, he’d probably sound just as crazy as the hijo de perra who was turning her life into a nightmare.

He just needed a little more time to prove himself. In the meantime, he needed to find out who the real threat was to Jenn’s safety, and remove the guy from her life. Permanently, if necessary.

He ground his teeth in frustration. The law was different in South America. People still disappeared without a trace down here, but that wasn’t really Jackson’s style. He’d much rather see the guy rotting away in a South American prison. That would be a truly hellish fate.

As Jackson settled on plan, he went into military mode, compartmentalizing his emotions in the same way he’d survived two tours as a marine. He mentally psyched himself up for the grueling days ahead. He much preferred knowing who the enemy was. He really hated games of cat and mouse.

Jackson made a quick call to update his team, then flipped the satellite phone onto the couch and ran his hands through his hair, before dragging them down to pull at the tight muscles in his neck and shoulders.

He rolled his head from side to side, and glanced at his watch.

It was a quarter after midnight.

He looked at the closed bedroom door and thought about Jenn sleeping just on the other side. It had felt like a dagger through his gut to have her close that barrier between them, but he could understand her need for some distance right now.

She might as well be halfway across the world. He’d never betray what fragile trust might remain, by entering that room uninvited. It might be his only hope of ever holding her in his arms again.

With a heavy sigh, he flicked off the light and crashed down onto the couch, bouncing the satellite phone off onto the floor. He heard it clatter across the wood but didn’t bother fumbling around for the device in the dark. If anyone needed him, the phone would light up when they called.

Chapter 10

Jenn jerked upright in the darkness, terrified, unsure of what had awakened her.

She sat with the thin sheet pulled up around her chest, gasping, sweating. The night was unusually hot and humid, but the sheet gave her a false sense of security that she wasn’t ready to abandon.

The room was very dark, making it hard for her to see anything but the pale square of the window on the wall. From the dim glow, she guessed that the moon was covered by clouds.

Had a nightmare awakened her?

She strained her ears for any suspicious sounds, but the night was filled by strange noises. Endless trills, whistles, chirps, and cries from the hordes of unseen insects and creatures which lived in the rainforest.

For a city girl, all of the sounds were alien and frightening.

Was it her imagination getting the best of her, or was that a strangely shaped shadow standing in the corner?

Jenn shivered and pulled the sheet up closer to her chin.

She hated feeling afraid. She’d always been such confident woman, so sure of herself. She had never believed in monsters, not even as a child. Then Roger had come along and taught her how wrong she was.

Monsters did exist, but they masqueraded as human beings. Roger had proven that evil might lurk beneath even the prettiest of faces.

When she’d finally managed to rid her life of the devil she’d once desired, then her stalker had appeared, adding insult to injury.

She’d never had a chance to recover, to heal, to find her courage.

The stalker’s presence was a slow working acid, destroying what was left of her life. Now it eroded the feelings she’d had for Jackson, leaving behind doubt and fear.

Jenn slid one hand over to touch the empty half of the mattress where Jackson had slept the night before. She’d felt so safe and happy having him beside her.

She wished she could roll back time and have him beside her again, if only for one more night.

If she called out, would he hear her?

She chewed on her lip, not wanting to give in to the fear. She came to South America to find herself. To find the strength and the courage which she’d lost during her escape from Roger. She couldn’t allow herself to use Jackson as a crutch. She needed to do this on her own.

Despite her doubts and her fears, she was surprised by how much she wanted Jackson with her. Even if he had hired someone to follow her and take pictures, she doubted he had intended to hurt or frighten her.

As a marine, if he had wanted to scare her, she was sure he would have chosen a more terrifying tactic. Maybe he hadn’t realized how disturbed his New York associate was? That would explain a lot.

If he’d known the photographer was sending her frightening messages and pictures, Jackson would have fired him. She was sure of it. But why would he lie when she asked him about the file full of pictures in his kitchen? It just didn’t make sense.

His strange profession of love was also extremely out of character.

Her thoughts drifted to Remi’s declaration regarding how much Jackson had changed during the war. Could he really have changed so much? Was Jackson a threat now? Was she in danger?

She was so confused!

Her thoughts circled around and around, as if she were trying to focus through an internal hurricane. Before Roger, she never would have struggled this much over the motives of a man.

Now she knew how violent and dangerous a man could be. Even one she thought she cared for. And she did care for Jackson, whether he was a liar or not. Dangerous or not.

Oh, who was she kidding? He was a marine, of course he was dangerous! The question was whether or not he might harm her. A question she still didn’t have an answer to.

She would never really know, until it was too late. Just like with Roger. But Jackson had the potential for much more ferocity. He was trained in violence, while Roger was simply a man with a bad temper.

Jackson was a warrior. She shivered as she considered what that meant. She’d be a fool to think he’d spent almost a decade as a warrior and never killed anyone. He must have killed dozens, maybe hundreds of enemies.

What a terrible thought!

But at the same time, she’d never really felt threatened by Jackson. She must have known, even if only on a subconscious level, what Remi’s older brother was capable of. What his job consisted of. Yet she’d never felt afraid of him, until she’d found that folder filled with photographs.

Even then, she was more hurt than afraid. She’d felt betrayed, confused, but not really scared. Nothing like the terror she’d felt with Roger, who’d proven himself a threat time and again.

Jackson had a history of protecting her, at least when they’d been kids.

Jackson was always there, as a shadow standing behind Remi, protecting the girls from being bullied at school.

Jenn startled.

The key element was Remi.

Jackson hadn’t actually been there for Jenn. He’d been there to protect his sister, and that blanket of protection had extended to include Remi’s best friend. Maybe Jenn had been wrong about him all along. Maybe she’d never really been safe with him.

She had no memories of time spent with Jackson when Remi was not there to act as a buffer. Tomorrow, it might be a good idea to move back to the guest huts. She’d have to give up hot water and electricity after dark, but it might still be the best thing for her. At least until she had Jackson figured out.

A pang of regret stabbed at her heart.

She’d grown up in love with Jackson. When he’d finally welcomed her into his bed, she was over the moon with joy. She didn’t want to give that up yet.

She hadn't really believed him when he’d told her that he wanted more than one night, but she’d hoped that her future might include more of him. She’d never expected everything to implode so soon.

Clearly, she was cursed. She just couldn’t keep a relationship alive and healthy. Not even with the one man she’d always wanted. The one man she would have given anything to stay with.

Furious at the tears which filled her eyes and threatened to fall, she rolled over and tried to force herself back to sleep. She was just starting to drift off, when she felt the mattress sag beside her.

Jackson!

He’d claimed he would sleep on the couch.

Joy battled with confusion and fear in her heart.

She rolled towards him, not sure what she would say, but the choice was taken from her as he placed a damp cloth over her mouth and nose. A strange scent filled her lungs as she gasped in surprise.

She raised her hands to push the cloth away, but her body felt strangely unresponsive and weak. She feebly batted at him with half the strength she’d intended.

A whispery moan escaped her lips as her hands abruptly fell limp onto her chest, then she slipped into unconsciousness.

Chapter 11

Jackson couldn’t manage to fall asleep until well after three a.m., so it wasn’t a surprise that he slept late and was only awakened when Remi repeated her early morning pounding on the front door.

As his sister turned the key in the lock and burst into the room, he sat up and rubbed at his weary eyes. He hadn’t slept well. It was mostly due to what he’d learned about Jenn’s previous boyfriend, Roger.

That hijo de perra was more than just a onetime offender when it came to the battery and abuse of women. He had a record a mile long, beginning clear back in the foster homes he was shuffled through during childhood.

The guy also had close to a dozen active restraining orders taken out against him in nearly as many different states, a gritty little fact that one of Jackson’s private investigative friends had put together, after a bit of persuasion and a whiskey bribe.

It churned Jackson’s gut to think about what Jenn must have lived through during the months she’d been with the guy.

Of course, being out on the couch, knowing that she was alone in his bed, hadn’t helped him sleep either.

At least a dozen times, he’d paced to the bedroom door and had to talk himself down from opening it. He really wanted to be in there with her, to atone in some way for not protecting her from Roger, but he knew he had to wait for her to come to him.

He couldn’t force her, not with her past. Any aggression from him might drive her further away.

“Oh, snap!” Remi exclaimed, stopping just inside the door to stare at his makeshift bed on the couch. “What did you do?”

His gaze cut towards the closed bedroom door, then he shook his head.

“I didn’t do anything, she just needed some space.”

“There’s no way you’re that big of an idiot,” Remi sighed. “You should know by now, if a woman says she needs space and wants you to sleep on the couch, it’s because you seriously screwed up. So, what did you do?”

“Nothing.” Jackson growled, lurching to his feet and heading to the bathroom. He really didn’t want to have this conversation with his baby sister.

Remi sighed melodramatically, as if she’d just realized that he was a total lost cause, which he kind of agreed with.

He was cursed with impossible relationships. He’d hoped Jenn would be the one to break his unlucky streak, but she seemed all too ready to add herself to his failed list before he’d really had a chance to screw things up.

When he reopened the bathroom door a moment later, Remi was still standing in the bedroom doorway. She had her hands on her hips, as if posed to scold Jenn, but there was a blank look on her face.

As she heard him step out of the bathroom, Remi turned in confusion.

“Where is she?”

Jackson’s stomach clenched.

He didn’t stop to ask what his sister was talking about, he simply shoved past her and into the bedroom.

It was empty.

“Where is she, Jackson? Where is she?!”

Ignoring Remi’s increasingly panicked cries, he did a quick search of the room, which ended in front of the window. He reached out to touch the screen, which kept bugs out but allowed the cool tropical breeze to flow through.

The mesh gave way before his fingertips. Someone had carefully cut the sides and bottom, right up against the wood, turning it into a flap that was unnoticeable unless you pushed against it.

His skin felt too tight. His gut was clenched so hard he felt like he would puke. If Jenn had wanted to leave, he knew she would have just walked out the front door.

Sure, he would have put up an objection, but that wouldn’t have stopped her.

It was more likely that her stalker had done this. The same guy who had ambushed Jackson with a chunk of wood to the side of his head. Most likely, the same guy who’d made the past year a nightmare for Jenn. Her ex-boyfriend, Roger.

It terrified him to think of what that guy might be capable of.

Rage and horror ripped through his system as he realized how badly he’d failed Jenn. He’d given her space, and in doing so, he’d given her abuser the opportunity he needed to step up his game from stalking to abduction.

Jackson should have been more careful. He should have insisted the door stay open, at the very least. Hell, he should have been sleeping beside her! He would have gutted that sneaky fucker before the guy had laid one finger on Jenn.

But there was no use berating himself over what should have been done. Jenn was gone and he needed to find her, quickly.

From what she’d told Jackson about the dirty texts and photographs, Roger still had a need to sexually possess her. She’d probably be safe until the bastard could move her somewhere more private.

Once Roger was alone with her, the guy would no doubt try to act out some of his fantasies.

If she put up a big enough fight, her abductor would probably feel as if he had only two choices. He’d either feel driven to kill her, or he’d let her go.

Statistically, sexual predators would much rather let their victims go than fight with them. But after being ambushed himself, and reading about Roger’s violent temper, Jackson feared this might be one of those rare cases when the victim would have ended up in a body bag.

Would have – because Jackson was going to tear the rainforest apart before that happened. He was going to find Jenn and bring her back, and he was going to rip the shriveled balls off the man who had taken her.

As he turned away from the window, he caught sight of something partially hidden beneath the edge of the bed.

Crouching, he reached for it, then straightened and stared down at his open palm with fear and revulsion

The kidnapper must have accidently dropped the cloth-wrapped syringe and not noticed that they had rolled beneath the bed. Either that, or the bastard didn’t care if anyone discovered how he’d drugged Jenn before removing her from the room.

Jackson’s skin was hot and tight, with murderous rage, but above that, was fear, despair, and self-directed loathing.

He forced himself to ease the muscles that had tied themselves into knots down his spine and across his broad shoulders.

He was going to kill the son of a bitch that had done this, but first he needed to find Jenn and make sure that she was safe.

He couldn’t allow himself to imagine that Jenn might already be dead, because he’d lose what was left of his mind.

A drizzling rain began to fall outside and cold rage cut off his breath. The rain would make it harder to track his prey. It felt like the entire world, even nature, was against him right now.

Chapter 12

Jenn woke up slowly, fighting against a strange mental fog. She was somewhere very dark, wet, and smelled moldy. Her stomach lurched and she struggled to keep from throwing up. Her entire body felt sick and sore, as if she had been beaten all over and then given a bad case of food poisoning.

She couldn’t see anything, so she felt around, trying to figure out where she was.

There were walls on her left, walls on her right. Wooden walls? Also, wood underneath her.

She was so confused, her head felt thick and foggy. The best she could compare it to was when she had surgery on a broken arm as a teenager, she’d felt foggy when she was waking up from the anesthesia.

Her heart beat faster as she recalled that her last memory was of Jackson placing a damp cloth over her nose and mouth. What was on that cloth? She’d seen enough movies to suspect chloroform.

Did chloroform make you feel this horrible when it wore off? As if her skull had been cracked open and her brains blended with cotton and bleach?

Jackson would know.

Why would he do this to her?

Was it Jackson?

All of her fears and memories were scrambled together, making no sense at all. Jackson would never hurt her, but Jackson had drugged her.

She couldn’t think straight. Her head hurt. Every inch of her body hurt. It was so dark. Were her eyes even open? She couldn’t tell. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore. She was so confused.

She thought she was lying on her side, so she tried to sit up, but bumped her head.

Another wall? A low ceiling? No, her exploring hands discovered, it was too low. She was in a coffin!

Maybe it was a lingering effect of the drugs, but for a moment she thought she could hear worms chewing on the wood, burrowing closer and closer to her flesh. Her skin began to crawl.

Bugs. Worms. Nasty things feeding upon the dead all around her. Leaving nothing behind but horrible grinning skeletons in their coffins.

She panicked, pressing her hands out in each direction once again, to measure the size of her dark prison. It was roughly as wide and tall as her body. Terrifyingly coffin shaped.

Although she’d never felt claustrophobic in small spaces, terror welled up to grip at her throat and choke off her breath.

Had she been buried alive? If so, she’d be running low on air, that could be why her head was now splitting. She might not have much time left.

Clawing through the wood wasn’t really an option. She didn’t have any tools. There was nothing in the box with her.

Even if she managed to break out of her wooden prison, there might be a tremendous amount of dirt between her and freedom.

She tried to concentrate through the pain.

If she screamed, she might use up the remaining air faster, but someone might hear her.

Of course, that was gambling on whether her murderer had buried her in a public cemetery. Which he wouldn’t have, because they were in the middle of the rainforest.

Where did people get buried around here? That hadn’t been on Remi’s tour.

She felt sick, she needed a doctor. She didn’t know what all she might have been dosed with, but she knew that something was terribly wrong.

Her throat was parched, so the moan which escaped her sounded like sand whispering through an hourglass, ticking down the seconds until she ran out of air.

Something bumped against her box and Jenn’s entire body bucked up and to the side, away from the impact.

What in the hell was that?

Her drug muddled brain conjured up demons from hell, eager to feast upon fresh prey. This couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening. It had to be a hangover from whatever drugs she’d been given.

Then the box was bumped again, and Jenn registered the hollow, wet sound which accompanied. She was also becoming aware of a strange undulation of the earth surrounding her coffin. A slow, rocking motion. As if…

Water! She was on water! She hadn’t been buried alive after all. As she focused and listened carefully, she thought she could hear waves against wood, but not the wood of her box. It sounded as if her box were floating on a raft or a boat.

She remembered the trip from the airport down to the resort. Remi had told her the only way to or from the resort, was via a boat. So, she was being moved somewhere, away from the resort.

Hopefully back to the airport and the villages near the civilized edge of the rainforest.

She had no idea what might be in the opposite direction, but she suspected it was just more rainforest.

Miles and miles and miles of rainforest. The sort of deep wilderness that adventurers occasionally ventured into, and occasionally vanished from, without a trace, just as Peter had warned.

Something clawed against the wood of her coffin, sounding too much like boney fingers attempting to get in. Perhaps one of those horrible, grinning skeletons.

Fear seemed to make the hallucinations, or whatever they were, worse. Sweat covered her trembling body, although she was wearing almost nothing and the air trapped inside her box was cool.

There was nothing for her to fight with, nothing but her bare hands.

The lid of her coffin was opening, revealing something hideous and black, silhouetted by the moon.

She tried to scream, but her throat was so dry, her voice was nothing more than a dusty rasp.

Rough hands seized her, but she fought back. She clawed at her attacker, feeling her nails rake through flesh.

So, this was not a skeleton, but not human.

It was too dark for her to see, even if her eyes had been able to focus, but the drugs filling her veins made it impossible.

Everything appeared dark and blurry. It looked as if there were two moons and six devils, then three devils and six moons.

Everything looked blurry and distorted.

The creature attempting to grab her appeared to have one glowing eye in the center of what should have been a face.

The creature was snarling at her, but she couldn’t understand the words. Its voice was garbled by a loud, liquid ringing in her ears.

Were her ears filled with water, or something thicker, like mud? She was going to be sick again. It felt as if the blood had turned to cold slush in her veins. Her stomach lurched.

She tried to focus on the glowing eye of the creature who held her, but the spinning image made her head hurt even more.

She tried to scream again as she felt something sharp stab through the flesh of her arm.

Had the creature bitten her? She struggled to determine what was real and what was a hallucination.

The stars and moon swirled above her, expanding then shrinking, expanding then shrinking. Then they shrunk a final time, and went black.

No. Her eyes were closed, but she couldn’t open them anymore.

Drugged. She’d been drugged again.

She fought against the tidal wave of new chemicals racing through her body, but she eventually lost the battle and slipped once more into unconsciousness.

Chapter 13

Jackson’s gaze sliced up from the map to look at the four men surrounding the table with him. They were natives from nearby villages, extremely familiar with the surrounding terrain.

The men were all armed with machetes for cutting through underbrush, and two carried ancient pistols tucked into their belts. They’d been over the plan half a dozen times, assuring that every man knew exactly what was expected from them. He couldn’t risk any mistakes. Not with Jenn’s life hanging in the balance.

“Any questions?” Jackson snarled, his voice half strangled by rage, fully aware that every passing minute drew them closer and closer to the possibility of finding the woman he loved injured or dead.

Every second mattered.

The men nodded solemnly, cautiously. Their faces warning Jackson that his expression was murderous, but they understood the risks and the consequences of what they were planning.

He slapped a two-way radio into each of their hands and jerked his head towards the door.

“Then let’s get the hell out of here and go find her!”

The group exited his bungalow and men veered off in every direction.

Jackson started towards the river, before he caught sight of Remi coming down the path from the main lodge and altered his direction to meet her. His sister had her own role in this search. A very important one.

From the look on her face, he was not going to like what she had to say.

“One of the village men saw a boat passing by the resort late last night. I’ve talked to Renzo and his team. It wasn’t one of ours. We didn’t have any deliveries scheduled. There’s a chance it was coming from one of the villages deeper in the rainforest, but it was too close to the shore, and moving quietly, not out in the center of the river where the current is strongest.”

“So, it was probably just beginning its journey,” Jackson ground out from between clenched teeth. “Possibly docked nearby.”

Remi gave a stiff nod. Her face was very pale and her eyes rimmed in red, due to the tears she was attempting to hold back.

“That’s what I thought too.” Her voice hitched. They both understood how incredibly difficult it would be to track a boat on a river the size of the Amazon.

Abruptly, the radio clipped to Jackson’s belt chirped to life.

“Boss, we found something.”

Jackson yanked the device free and raised it to his mouth.

“Where?”

“About a hundred yards up the beach from your hut.”

Jackson snarled a filthy curse and headed in that direction, with Remi running hard on his heels.

There were many narrow dirt paths that wove through the rainforest surrounding the resort, worn into the earth by the villagers who passed through to sell handmade goods or perform for the tourists.

Jackson knew where most of them went, but there were too many for him to search alone.

The path he ran now would eventually lead to a village much deeper in the rainforest, but he didn’t have far to go before he saw his man flagging him down. Freshly cut leaves and vines exposed where someone had broken away from the main trail and headed towards the river.

Jackson followed the newly formed path down to the beach, where he could clearly see that a boat had been driven up into the mud during the night. Something had been dragged across the mud and loaded into the boat, then the boat had been shoved back off the shore and into the water.

Jackson spun on Remi.

“This is where he loaded her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Which way did your villager say that boat was headed?”

“Towards the airport.”

Jackson swore again and started running back towards the resort with the radio in his hand.

“Everyone get to the dock, asap! They’re on the river.”

Chapter 14

Jenn awoke with a start. For a moment, she only lay still, waiting for the pain to return.

How many times had she awakened, violently sick, dizzy, and in agony? She couldn’t remember. The last few days were a terrible, confusing jumble in her head. She wasn’t sure what was real and what had been a drug induced nightmare.

“Jenn? Can you hear me?”

She turned towards the sound. Peter was seated on the edge of the bed. He looked as if he hadn’t shaved or slept in days. He looked as tired as she felt. Completely exhausted. But there was a sharp urgency in his eyes, which were fixed on her with something akin to desperation.

She tried to push herself up off the bed, but she was too weak. She collapsed back onto the mattress, and as she did so, additional realizations struck her. This was not her bed. Where was she?

This was a house, a real house, not a bungalow. The walls were covered in cracked white plaster. The room was sterile of any decoration and so tiny there was barely room for a small bed and a side table. She must still be in South America, probably in some version of a hospital or medical clinic.

“Don’t try to move,” Peter instructed, every word laced with concern. “You’ve been delirious, sick for days. I was so worried. I thought maybe you caught something down in the rainforest. Yellow Fever, or something like that. There are so many parasites down there. So many dangers. Why didn’t you listen to me when I told you not to go on this horrible trip?”

She couldn’t speak, her tongue felt thick and swollen, her throat was as dry as a desert.

She shook her head and touched her throat.

Peter seemed to understand and fetched a glass of water from the side table. He used a straw to help her get some of the fluid into her mouth, and down her parched throat, but took the glass away before she was ready.

“Not too much or you’ll puke again,” he warned. “Just let that settle first, then I’ll give you some more.”

Jenn sighed. She wanted more water, but even that small amount of liquid brought some strength back into her limbs.

She closed her eyes and struggled to put together the pieces of her shattered memories. She could remember falling asleep in Jackson’s bed, then floating in a coffin. She thought she remembered the rattle of a small airplane’s propellers, but it had quickly warped into the snarl and howl of demonic creatures.

She wasn’t sure how much of what she remembered was real.

Her eyes flashed open again, snapping up to study Peter. Was he really here? Or was she imagining him as well? She reached out one weak hand, letting it fall upon his knee. She could feel the warmth of a real person beneath those cotton slacks.

“You’re… real…” Her voice was thin and dusty, despite the water he’d given her, but Peter seemed to understand.

He offered a small smile and cupped her cheek with his palm.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m real. I’m here for you. I’ll never let you go again.”

She sighed and closed her eyes again. She was too tired to correct him. It wasn’t as if he’d had a choice in where she went, but it was nice to have someone watching over her while she was sick.

Her thoughts drifted to Remi. Was her best friend working today?

While Peter was the last person she would expect to find keeping vigil at her bedside, Remi should have been the first. So why wasn’t she here?

And where was Jackson?

She struggled to remember what had happened at his bungalow, but she couldn’t make sense of the images which flashed through her mind. She was too tired. She needed to rest, but Peter was still touching her, making sleep impossible. He kept stroking her hair and petting her cheeks as if she were a child.

Or a lover.

It made her uncomfortable.

She started to roll away from him, to face the wall, but shock brought her eyes open in a flash. Heat flushed her cheeks as she reached down to confirm what she’d felt. She was naked under the sheet. What had happened to her clothes? Did the hospitals in South America not issue gowns? They should have at least allowed her to keep her panties.

She glanced at Peter, hoping she hadn’t embarrassed herself while she’d been unconscious. She knew she tended to move around a lot in her sleep, often waking with her sheet tangled around her ankles.

“Do you know where they put my clothes?” The rush of adrenaline helped her speak through what felt like sawdust lining her throat.

“They?” Peter responded, sounding equally surprised. “Sweetheart, I’ve been taking care of you alone. There’s nobody else here. I had to wash your clothes, because you were throwing up the entire trip. You were completely covered in puke.”

“What trip? I… I can’t remember. It’s all a blur. What happened to me?” She was struggling to sit up again, while trying to shield her breasts with the sheet. Fear was spiking through her body, driving her to fight against Peter’s attempts to push her back down on the mattress.

One of his sleeves was pushed up in the scuffle and she saw the angry claw marks covering the lower half of his arm and wrist. A memory instantly flashed through her mind, of a monster and darkness. Of something piercing the skin on her arm after she had clawed its flesh, attempting to escape.

Her gaze jerked up to meet Peter’s.

He’d seen what she’d been staring at and his entire countenance changed.

His expression lost all of its warmth and friendliness. He offered a dramatic sigh and straightened, releasing her so that she was at last able to sit up and drag the sheet to her shoulders.

His creepy smile made the tiny hairs on the back of her neck prickle.

“I’ve already seen you naked, Jennifer, but you’re right, we don’t need any more secrets between us.” He touched the marks on his arm. “You scratched me when you were sick, while I was trying to help you escape from that place.”

“Escape…?” She remembered the coffin, the water, the skeleton scratching against wood, the monster with one eye.

She was so confused. Her memory was scrambled by the drugs, but there was one thing she was sure of.

“You… drugged me.” Her fingertips sought for, and found, the bruises left on her arm from the needles he’d used.

Peter didn’t look sorry. Instead he gave a small shrug.

“I had to. It was the only way I could get you away from him.”

Him? Jackson? So, Jackson wasn’t involved in her abduction? Then why did she remember him using chloroform to knock her out in the bedroom? Was she mistaken? Who else could it have been?

Peter was watching her through narrowed eyes, clearly attempting to determine her thoughts. Could he have somehow snuck into Jackson’s bedroom? She recalled the photographs which she’d found in the drawer in Jackson’s kitchen.

The pieces slowly started falling into place, and as they did, terror began to claw at her chest.

“You were the one who put the photographs in Jackson’s kitchen?”

Peter frowned, but nodded.

“I was trying to remind you of what an incredible woman you are,” he replied, almost sadly.

“You were falling for that… that… jarhead,” Peter continued. “But you’re so much better than him, Jennifer. That guy has brought you nothing but heartache and trouble. You can’t deny the truth. You don’t belong with him.”

Jackson wasn’t exactly a charming prince, but she’d felt a lot safer with him than she felt right now.

It was clear that she’d horribly misjudged Peter. He wasn’t just an awkward computer geek with a questionable history. He was a fucking lunatic!

Was he the one who had taken the pictures of her in New York? If so, he was probably the one who’d made those disgusting phone calls and texts as well.

Her stomach gave a lurch as she thought of all the time they’d spent together, when she’d thought he was harmless. She’d even started to believe he might be gay, because he never showed any interest in the women she’d attempted to match him up with.

Now she understood.

She was also frighteningly aware of how much danger she was in. If he was willing to drug her to the point she was hallucinating and unable to keep down any food or water, what was going to stop him from pushing too hard? From really hurting her?

Cold fear gripped at her stomach as she recalled all of the physical abuse she’d suffered during those final months with Roger, before she’d managed to rid him from her life. She’d been fortunate to have the help of New York City law enforcement, or Roger might have killed her.

Who could she call now? Deep in South America? Could she even trust the legal system down here? She’d heard horror stories of corrupt cops who would do just about anything for the right amount of money.

She wasn’t rich. She wasn’t famous. She was a nobody. The only people in this entire country who might care for her, were Remi and Jackson. But she didn’t know where she was, or how to reach them.

Peter scratched at a welt on his neck, his face twisting into a grimace of disgust.

“This place is crawling with insects. Especially mosquitoes. Huge bastards! I’ve probably got some nasty parasite now, all because you were so hell bent on this suicide trip of yours. Why the hell don’t you ever listen to me, Jenn?”

He didn’t wait for an answer.

“That guy treated you like shit while I’ve been there for you every day.”

She felt sick and dizzy with fear.

Peter scowled.

“You look like you’re going to puke again.”

“I’m not feeling very well. What was in those syringes? I have a bad reaction to some kinds of medication. They make me nauseous and give me migraines.”

Peter abruptly grabbed the sheet and tore it out of her hands.

Jenn yelped in shock, as the cloth was ripped away, then quickly curled up her legs and folded her arms in an effort to hide her naked parts.

“Don’t puke in here!” Peter snarled, ignoring her floundering attempt at modesty. “Go to the bathroom. I’m tired of cleaning up your messes.”

“Give me back the sheet!”

He rolled his eyes.

“I told you, I’ve already seen you naked, many times. We’ve been together for almost a year, Jenn. There’s nothing that I don’t know about you. Nothing I haven’t seen.”

“I thought we were friends, Peter.”

“We are, which is why I can tell you to get your ass off that bed before I drag you off. Go! If you throw up on the mattress, it’s going to smell like puke, and that’s not how I want to spend our first night together.”

She’d actually started to move, until she heard those last few words, then she found herself helplessly frozen in place. Their first night together? There was no way in hell that she could sleep next to Peter, not after finding out that he was a stalker, a kidnapper, and a complete lunatic.

Worse, she didn’t think he meant actual sleep.

She thought of the all pictures, the texts, and the phone calls, and she knew he was planning on fulfilling his sexual fantasies with her. All of those perverted things he’d shown her, hiding behind anonymity, which had both terrified and given her nightmares these last six months.

He was going to try to do those things to her. Tonight.

Now she really was going to be sick, and it had nothing to do with the drugs still fouling up her system.

No longer giving a rat’s ass if Peter saw her naked, she dove off the bed, and raced for the only door in sight. It opened into a very narrow hallway with the same cracked white plaster walls.

There was another doorway straight across from the bedroom, which Jenn instinctively felt must be the bathroom. She ran right past it, heading for the door furthest from the bedroom… from Peter.

She had to get out. She had to escape.

Behind her, Peter gave a shout, but Jenn only ran faster. A part of her recognized that if she did escape, she would be alone and naked in an unknown part of a country which she knew very little about.

She couldn’t speak more than a dozen Spanish words, and less than half of those in the Peruvian dialect, but none of that scared her as much as the prospect of spending one more minute alone with the lunatic who was now chasing her down the hallway.

Peter must have believed that taking away all her clothing would keep her hiding inside the house. What he clearly didn’t understand, was how much more she was afraid of him, than of anything on the other side of that door.

She gulped a silent prayer as her hand closed around the handle and gave a violent twist. It wasn’t locked. The door swung open and she was escaping out into the night beyond, with Peter hard on her heels.

Chapter 15

Jackson scrubbed weary eyes with the heel of his palms. He was going on another sixteen hours without sleep and would need to power nap soon or risk exhaustion causing him to overlook important details.

After three days of relentless searching, he was already running dangerously low on energy.

He checked his watch again. Remi was running a bit late. She had agreed to meet him here after her shift at the resort, so she could take over managing the search team, while he crashed for an hour or two.

He didn't want to sleep, knowing that Jenn was out there somewhere, afraid, and possibly hurt. But if he didn't rest, he might not have the stamina necessary to do whatever it might take to bring her home.

"Where is she?"

Jackson turned to see a scrawny little man holding an anemic looking, pistol.

"Who?" Jackson responded, slowly raising his open palms to waist level in response to finding a firearm pointed at his chest.

"Don't play games with me, asshole!” The creep snapped furiously. “I flew all the way down here to rescue her from you. I know where you were keeping her, but she's not there now, so you’d better tell me where she is or I'm going to start putting holes in you until the right words spill out."

Jackson’s gaze narrowed. There was no doubt now, the creep was talking about Jenn.

Who the hell was this cabron? He didn't look anything like the pictures Jackson had seen of Roger.

Upon second look, this guy was thin, but he had a wiry strength that shouldn't be underestimated. And that child-sized gun in his hand could still put a man-sized hole in a body.

Jackson's adrenaline kicked up a notch as he considered how Remi would be coming around the corner any minute. An unexpected interruption like that might cause this lunatic to pull the trigger.

Even if Jackson managed to knock the gun aside in time to protect himself and his sister, the bullet might still find a target among the villagers behind them, most of which were innocent women and children.

He needed to defuse this situation fast.

"Look buddy, we're on the same side," he spoke gently, persuasively. "I'm trying to find her too. Why don't you holster that sidearm and join the search? We could use your help."

The gun never wavered, but Jackson saw doubt and suspicion flicker across the man's abnormally bright eyes. Was the guy on drugs? That would add an additional layer of danger to the situation.

He wouldn't be thinking clearly. Depending on the drug, he might also be insensitive to pain, which could make him even stronger and more resistant to any form of take down and restraint.

"She's not at the resort?" Those too-bright eyes snaked past Jackson, as if expecting to find Jenn hiding in his shadow.

"No." That bad feeling in his gut was getting stronger. "Who are you?"

"I'm the man who's been caring for her while you've been tripping all over the world, jarhead. I know your type, soldier boy. You're the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em kind, just like my dad. You're not the marrying kind. Jenn's nothing to you but a notch in your bed post, like all the girls, in all the countries you toured. One in every port, right? Just another body you've conquered, never mind who gets hurt or left behind. I should put you down now and bring a little peace to all those women you’ve left in your wake. Jenn would thank me for it, once I’ve found her."

"You're wrong," Jackson snarled.

The gunman shrugged his shoulders, the little gun bobbing with the motion, drawing Jackson's attention back with laser precision.

"I'm not going to argue with you," el cabron sneered. "You're not worth my time. You've had your fun, now leave the hard stuff to a real man. Someone who's willing to do what it takes to keep his woman safe."

He started to turn away, then hesitated. With his free hand, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a tiny fistful of pink material.

"Here's a souvenir for you. It's the last thing you'll ever see of her." He tossed the cloth onto the dirt between them and Jackson felt the blood turn to ice in his veins. They were torn and stained, but he recognized Jenn's dainty brand of underwear.

"Once I find her, I'm taking her somewhere you'll never be able to hurt her again," the gunman was telling him, but Jackson couldn't hear the words through the blood now pounding in his ears.

Staring at the tattered remains of her panties was when it all finally clicked into place. Roger wasn’t responsible for Jenn’s disappearance, this lunatic with the gun had taken her. But if el cabron was here now, searching for her, Jenn must have escaped. Which meant she was still alive… somewhere.

Jackson was moving even before his sleep deprived brain had fully registered all the facts. He was vaguely aware of the gunman’s smug expression widening into an almost comical gasp of surprise.

As his fist smashed into the man’s face, Jackson heard the explosion of the gun firing between them and felt the blaze of pain as the bullet ripped through his flesh, but none of that mattered now.

In a series of rapid strikes, Jackson had reduced the gunman to a crumpled, unconscious heap on the ground. The pistol lay in the dirt near his feet, dropped and forgotten as el cabron had thrown up his hands in an attempt to shield himself from Jackson’s rage.

Jackson snatched the gun from the ground and jammed it into his back pocket, before reaching down to grab the man by the sleeve of his shirt and roll him onto his back.

“Wake up! Wake up, you reconche tu mare weon and tell me where she is! Where did you take her?”

The man groaned and tried to curl himself up into a fetal position, but Jackson used one booted foot to roughly shove him back.

“Where is she?” He roared, then wobbled on his feet as blood loss caused the world to tilt beneath him.

Glancing down, he realized that the front of his shirt was soaked and there was a pulsing red river flowing down his left pant leg.

He cursed violently and pressed his hand to the oozing hole in his stomach.

“Jackson!” Remi’s panicked voice made him whirl to warn her back, but the sudden motion was too much for his critically weakened body. His knees buckled and he collapsed.

“Oh my god!” Remi was at his side in an instant. “What’s going on? What happened? Is this a bullet hole? Damn it, Jackson! You’re bleeding to death, stop trying to push me away!”

“He took Jenn…”

Remi glanced towards the cowering gunman, who was now curled up on the ground weeping like a baby as he held trembling hands to his broken nose. El cabron's weasel face was covered in blood, snot, and tears, but Jackson wasn’t finished with him yet.

Despite his sister’s attempts to hold him down and put pressure on his wound, Jackson aimed a boot and kicked as fucking hard as he could. The gunman’s head snapped back and struck the plaster and rock foundation of the building behind him, knocking him out once more.

“Jackson!” Remi was screaming, clawing at his shirt in an effort to manage his wound, but he didn’t give a damn if he bled to death. He needed to be sure that Jenn’s kidnapper stayed down until reinforcements could arrive.

His two-way lay a few yards away, knocked off his belt during the brief beating he’d given his adversary, so he grabbed Remi’s radio and quickly thumbed the call button.

“Hostile down behind the mercantile! Converge and detain! Converge and detain!”

Remi yanked the radio from his hands and Jackson was surprised to see tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Stop moving!” She demanded, shoving at his chest in an attempt to force him into a supine position. “You stupid idiot! What were you thinking? Why didn’t you call me? You can’t do this to me, Jackson! Don’t you dare do this to me!”

He frowned in confusion. Do what? Then the world gave another wild lurch and he found himself lying flat on his back while a strange, black fog crept in from the edges of his vision.

Struggling to focus, he reached for Remi’s wrist and tried to point her towards the crumpled figure lying behind her.

“He took Jenn…”

“Fuck that asshole!” She responded, without a glance towards the fallen man.

“Remi… he took her…”

“Shut up, you idiot!” She snapped back, pressing her palms against his stomach and sending a flash fire of agony ripping up through his body. His breath hissed through brutally clenched teeth as he fought back against the darkness that tried to swallow him.

“What the hell happened?” A familiar voice shouted as he heard boots rapidly approaching. His team had finally arrived.

“He’s been shot,” Remi was openly weeping, yet she remained fiercely vigilant at his side, her strong hands pressed tight to his stomach, staunching the flow of blood. Not taking her eyes off from her brother, she jerked her head towards the fallen gunman.

“That’s the guy who took Jenn and shot Jackson.”

The men didn’t need to know anything more. Jackson could hear the fallen man grunt in pain as he was yanked off the ground and slammed up against the wall of the mercantile so his hands could be tied behind his back.

One of the men dragged the creep away for questioning, while another crouched down beside Remi.

“You okay, boss?”

“I’ll be fine,” Jackson lied. “Just get me patched up so we can finish this.”

That earned him a grim smile and a nod.

“Sure thing, boss.”

Chapter 16

Jenn’s teeth were rattling so hard she was surprised they hadn’t all shattered and fallen out of her mouth.

It was shocking how cold the rainforest could be at night. It had felt warm enough when she was snuggled in a comfortable bed with a sheet and pajamas between her and the elements. But now she was naked and the jungle was very, very damp. The combination was a recipe for misery and possible hypothermia.

Her misery was amplified by the endless swarms of bloodsucking insects which had quickly descended upon her exposed flesh.

She’d run for as long as she could, ignoring the lash and tear of jungle vines and plants against her body. Occasionally stumbling as her bare feet were abused by sharp stones or thorns.

For the first hour or so, it was all a terrifying game of hide and seek, as Peter called and hunted for her among the trees. But after a while, his shouts had faded and she could no longer hear the sounds of him pursuing her.

She wasn’t sure exactly how long she’d continued running after that, but it had felt like forever. When she couldn’t run anymore, she had walked, and when she was too weary to walk, she had crawled.

Eventually, she’d found herself unable to go any further.

She had no idea where she was. She hadn’t seen any houses or signs of life since she’d escaped. She was completely lost, in the dark, in the jungle. If a panther or a giant python were to attack her, she’d never have the strength to defend herself.

She was too exhausted to cry, even if she wasn’t desperately dehydrated. It was almost comical for her to be dying of thirst in such a wet place, but she’d seen too many of those reality television shows which warned against drinking any of the stagnant water she’d stumbled through during her escape.

It was better to be thirsty, then to slurp up a giant parasite or two.

She had eventually curled up beside the massive trunk of a tree at least ten feet wide in diameter. It felt a bit like having an actual wall against her back, which offered a strange sense of comfort, despite her circumstances.

She didn’t have a blanket, so she’d done her best to cover herself in leaves and rainforest debris, hoping to retain some body heat.

Despite her makeshift attempts to conserve warmth, she’d shivered all night long, making it impossible to sleep.

She was incredibly grateful when she heard the birds beginning to sing and chirp in the canopy above her, heralding the arrival of dawn. She was alive and she was safe, at least for the moment.

It wasn’t until she crawled out from underneath her leafy bower, that she received her first terrible shock of the day. She was covered in leeches. Not just one or two, there were at least a dozen of the glossy black worms attached to her naked flesh.

Repressing a scream of horror, she began clawing at their nasty little bodies, attempting to rip them from her skin. It was harder than she’d expected, because they were slippery and stretched when she tried to pull on them.

Wherever she did manage to tear one off, a trickle of blood remained to mark where it had been feeding.

By the time she removed the last leech, her skin was mottled and streaked with bruises, mosquito bites, and drying blood. She was sobbing, on the verge of hysteria, with every muscle in her body protesting against any form of movement.

All she wanted to do was curl up on the ground and cry, but that would just be an invitation for the leeches to come back and feast again. She had no choice but to keep moving, hoping that she would eventually stumbled into a village where she could find help.

She couldn’t let herself consider the possibility of Peter finding her first. Or think about what she might do if the villagers she encountered were less than friendly.

More than anything else, she longed to see Remi again. And Jackson, despite all of her doubts and fears.

It was painfully clear that Peter was the psychotic mastermind behind the photos and messages. He'd crept past her defenses when she was at her most vulnerable. Worming his way into her inner circle, under the guise of a harmless shoulder to cry on.

After all she had suffered beneath Roger's violent tyranny, her social isolation, and long string of relationship failures, she wasn't sure if she could ever fully trust again.

Jackson had claimed that he loved her. He’d asked for her to forget all of the times he’d shunned her, all of the times he'd hurt her, to trust him. But was she just setting herself up for another betrayal?

If she opened her heart to him, she was only begging for more pain. She didn't know if she could survive another mistake like that.

She’d wanted Jackson for as long as she could remember. Now that she'd had a taste of him, she wasn't sure she could ever desire anyone else. But it also meant that his betrayal would hurt her more than anything she’d experienced before. And right now, as she trudged through this tropical nightmare, bleeding and bereft of all hope, she just wasn’t sure if she could risk anymore.

So why couldn't she stop thinking about him?

Why was it the memory of his smile that kept her feet moving forward long after her vision began to blur?

She wasn't sure how long she'd been walking, but the rising temperature suggested it was drawing close to noon. The thick, muggy heat of the jungle made it even harder to go on.

She hurt all the way down into her bones. Every step was torture on bruised, bleeding feet.

The frightful shrieks and cries of unseen jungle creatures merged together in her ears, to drown in the thunderous pounding of her heart.

It was all she could do to just keep moving forward. She had no direction. No path. No idea where she might be or where she was going.

Fighting to concentrate through the pain in her head and increasing dizziness, due to exposure and dehydration, she just tried to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

Just one more step.

Now one more.

On and on.

The trees and vines surrounding her abruptly blurred and tilted. It took a moment before she realized she'd fallen down.

Slowly, she tried to push herself back up onto hands and knees, but her limbs had gone numb and refused to obey. She collapsed face first, scraping her chin on a thick tree root.

A brilliantly colored butterfly landed on the jungle floor, just a few inches from her nose. It flickered enormous, rainbow-colored wings, and Jenn felt hysterical laughter bubbling up from somewhere deep inside her.

Of all the ways she'd ever imagined death might someday take her, she’d never once considered that she might die lost and alone in the Amazon rainforest.

Chapter 17

Jackson was exhausted. His entire left side was on fire, and he suspected the stitches the village doctor had sewn into him were tearing. But if he was tired, how must Jenn feel? She might be in pain as well, but she was alone and afraid out there in the wilderness.

Large predators, like the jaguar, usually stayed deeper in the rainforest, far from human paths, but Jenn was heading into some pretty remote territory.

Of course, panthers weren't the only danger out here. Poisonous snakes, crocodiles, and a lethal assortment of other creatures existed. In the jungle, even something as small as an ant could have a sting powerful enough to knock down a full-grown man.

Jackson had felt the sting of a bullet ant during his first visit to the rainforest a few years earlier, and it wasn't something he'd care to experience ever again.

He caught sight of Remi just a few yards to his right. Her hair was tied up into a fierce bun on top of her head, but a few damp strands had escaped. The wild hairs clung to her sweaty forehead and cheeks, but Remi was oblivious to her appearance. Her red-rimmed eyes were intensely focused upon the surrounding underbrush, searching for any sign of her best friend.

He knew that Remi blamed herself for bringing Jenn to South America, where she would be made vulnerable to her stalker.

With tears streaming down her cheeks, she'd admitted to Jackson that she really hadn't believed there was any real danger. She’d known that Jenn would never lie to her about anything important, but a stalker who sent dirty messages and took a lot of pictures, just hadn't sounded very scary to her.

If Jenn were seriously injured – or worse – his sister would never forgive herself. But this wasn't Remi's fault. It was his. Jackson had left Jenn alone, defenseless, after he'd sworn to protect her.

He'd give anything for a chance to go back in time and fix his mistakes. All of them. Starting with the night he'd taken Jenn to the prom.

God, she'd looked beautiful!

The dress she'd worn had clung to her curves in a way that begged for his touch. Just looking at her had been enough to make his teenage body ache.

He could hardly breathe, much less speak. Especially when she'd tucked her delicate hand into his arm and looked up with those huge eyes, so full of hope and excitement. His damned knees had nearly buckled underneath him!

But Jenn was Remi's best friend, so he'd done everything he could to push her away. The whole night had been the sweetest and worst kind of torture.

When Jenn had asked to leave the dance a little early, the gut-wrenching mix of disappointment and relief had nearly killed him.

She'd led him out to the old pickup truck, which he'd bought using money saved up from mowing lawns every summer, and waited patiently for him to unlocked her door.

Then she'd ambushed him.

He had still been reeling from her request to leave early, so his defenses were down. Shock left him standing there, like a deer frozen in the headlights, as she slid her arms around his neck and stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him.

The moment her lips met his, primal instinct took over. His hands seized her waist, greedily pulling her closer.

He had devoured her mouth, years of denied longing finally released in an almost savage need to take as much as she was willing to give him.

The intensity of his desire had scared the hell out of him, and by some miracle, that surge of fear had shocked him back to reality before his trembling hands could shred that pretty dress right off her sweet little body.

He'd shoved her away so fast she'd stumbled backwards into the side of truck and nearly fallen down.

"What's wrong?" She'd gasped, quickly looking around for cops, teachers.... bigfoot... some reasonable explanation for his sudden rejection. But there wasn't one. He only knew that if he spent one more minute in her presence, he'd lose the fear which had stopped him, and with it, his ability to resist her.

He would have taken her, right there in the school parking lot, spread eagled on the bench seat of his old truck.

So, he'd run.

He'd jumped into the truck, slammed it into gear, and raced the hell out of there as fast as he could go, squealing the tires in his haste to escape. He'd left her standing in the parking lot, all alone, in the amber glow of an ancient streetlight.

And he'd regretted it ever since.

Remi had been furious when she'd arrived home, after she and her prom date had found Jenn crying and taken her home.

Jackson knew he deserved a lot worse than the outraged lecture his little sister had given him, but he'd kept telling himself that it had been the right thing to do. That he would have just broken her heart and harbored even bigger regrets.

Now that he'd finally taken her to bed, he knew he'd been lying to himself all along. He'd been scared, because he'd felt it even then - how right they were for each other - and he'd been afraid of how that would completely change his life.

If he hadn't been such a fool, he could have saved them both a lot of pain and failed relationships. Because Jenn was his woman. She always had been.

Once he had her back in his arms, he was never going to let her go again.

Just hold on, baby. I'm coming.

Sweat dripped into his eyes and he scrubbed it away, the motion bringing a fresh spike of pain from his injured side.

Shoving a hand into his back pocket he pulled out the small pill bottle the village doctor had given him. He'd been taking only half of the dose the doctor had prescribed, because he didn't want the painkiller to cloud his judgement and potentially hurt his ability to find Jenn.

Once she was safe, he'd surrender himself to a real medical facility. Until then, her life was the only one that mattered.

They'd tracked Jenn's path from the backpacker's hostel, where that hijo de perra, Peter, had been keeping her. It had followed a fairly straight shot away from civilization for the first two days, then started to weave. She was clearly getting tired.

Exposure to the elements, dehydration, and hunger, could all take a heavy toll in the jungle.

Another spike of pain shot up from his side. It was getting worse. He was pushing himself to hard and he knew it. But Jenn could be injured too, and she was out there, all alone.

A shout from the tracker snapped Jackson's full attention to the jungle ahead.

In an instant, his pain was forgotten, as both he and Remi darted forward. Ducking tree limbs and vines, they raced to where a half-naked Amazonian native was crouching.

With his dark skin and short stature, he blended into the surrounding underbrush. In contrast, the pale body of the woman lying nearby, was jarring. Motionless and deathly white wherever her skin was not marred by dirt or stained with dried blood.

Jackson felt his gut wrench and his heart stop, yet his momentum carried him forward. Falling to his knees beside her, he pulled her limp body into his arms, only vaguely aware of the tears on his cheeks and Remi’s harsh sobbing beside him.

“Jenn. Wake up, baby. I'm here now. It's okay. You're going to be okay. Please, baby. Please be okay.”

He cradled her against his chest, rocking with her, begging for her to respond. Swearing over and over that he would keep her safe, that nobody would ever hurt her again, if she would only open her eyes for him.

The rest of the search team arrived and were unfolding the portable stretcher, but Jackson couldn't let go of the woman in his arms. He fought against the hands which attempted to take her from him.

“Don't touch her! Don't you fucking touch her!”

“Jackson, they've got to get her to the hospital.” Remi's voice was torn by grief as she caught his face in her hands and forced him to look up at her. “She needs help. She needs a doctor.”

The words reached through the black fog of grief he was drowning in, forcing him to move, to keep fighting.

He couldn't give up yet. Jenn still needed him.

“I'll carry her.”

“It's at least an hour's hike back to where we were forced to leave the ATVs,” someone was arguing. “Through some really bad terrain…”

“I said, I'll carry her!”

The lethal tone of his voice had the men backing up.

“You heard him!” Remi snapped. “Get moving and cut a fucking path for this idiot!”

With machetes swinging, the team moved out fast, cutting the shortest path to wear they'd been forced to leave their ATVs and go on foot.

Jackson followed right on their heels, cradling Jenn to his chest.

“Hold on, baby. Just a little longer. Stay with me. You're going to be okay. Just stay with me, sweetheart.”

Chapter 18

Jenn woke with a start, thrashing against the vines which held her. The darkness sought to swallow her once more, but she couldn't give up, she had to keep fighting!

Then a bright light sparked beside her and a familiar voice filled her ears.

“Jenn! Jenn, it's alright. You're safe now. You're going to be okay.”

She turned towards the voice, and discovered that she was no longer in the rainforest at all. She was in a clean room, wearing a hospital gown, with a concerned figure hovering beside her.

“Remi? You found me?”

“It was kind of a group effort,” Remi tried to smile.

Her hair was a tangled rat's nest and her eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath. She looked as if she hadn't seen a bed or a mirror in a at least a week, but at that moment, Jenn thought her best friend was the most beautiful person she'd ever seen.

In an awkward lurch, she sat up and grabbed Remi into a huge bear hug.

“You're really here,” Jenn sniffed back tears of relief when her arms closed around a warm body, and not a hallucination. “I'm so glad to see you!”

“You scared the he’ll out of us!” Remi admonished through tears of her own. “I'm so sorry, Jenn. I never meant to put you in any danger.”

Jenn snorted, and swiped at her eyes.

“I know that, silly! Besides, I'm the one who let that psychopath…” She abruptly remembered that Peter was still out there, looking for her. “Remi! Go get Jackson! If Peter finds out I'm here, he'll come for me. He's crazy! He drugged me! He might hurt you too. You need to find Jackson and bring him here. Hurry! Go!”

Jenn was attempting to crawl out of the hospital bed and force her friend to go find protection, but Remi fiercely held her ground, pushing her back down onto the mattress. She must be even weaker than she'd thought, if Remi could push her around so easily.

“Stay down!” Remi ordered, but Jenn kept struggling until she caught sight of the door opening at the other end of the room.

For a moment, time stood still.

Peter had found her. He was going to kill her this time, and if Remi tried to stop him, he’d kill her too.

Jenn was too weak to run away, but maybe she could stall him long enough for Remi to escape. Only it wasn't Peter who walked into the room. It was Jackson.

Disbelief and relief rushed through her, mixing with the adrenaline that had flooded her system… and something else. Something that felt warm and good, like bring wrapped in one of her mother's freshly laundered blankets as a little girl. She felt joy and pleasure. She felt safe.

Love.

This wasn't simply desire or a craving for his body. Her heart actually felt lighter, just watching him walk into the room.

“Jackson.”

“Hey beautiful, it's sure good to see you awake.” He smiled at her as he moved to the side of the bed, and that warm, snuggly feeling roared up into the familiar wash of desire. That felt good too.

Remi gave her brother a sour look, but there was concern hidden beneath, and Jenn followed her friend's gaze to Jackson's waist. She could tell by the stiff way that he moved, that something was wrong.

“You should still be in bed,” Remi scolded. “But I'm guessing the doctor has already told you as much.”

Jackson ignored her, offering Jenn his full attention.

“How are you feeling? You've been delirious for a few days now. The doctor said you had a bad reaction to the drugs in your system.”

As he reached out to brush his fingertips across her forehead, Jenn gripped a handful of his shirt. Before he could move away, she lifted the material to reveal thick layers of bandaging underneath.

Jackson caught her hand before she could withdraw it, his expression unreadable.

“That hijo de perra, Peter, shot him before Jackson could knock his ass down,” Remi chirped, before Jenn could ask and Jackson explain. “The village doc put a bunch of stitches in him, but he tore it all up again carrying you out of the jungle.”

Jenn never broke eye contact with Jackson.

“You carried me?”

A dark shadow flickered across his eyes as he gave a small nod, his grip on her hand tightening just a fraction.

Jenn finally glanced towards her best friend, who was now standing with her fists on her hips, as if she were gearing up for a debate.

“Remi, do you think I could talk to Jackson for just a minute? Alone? I promise I'll put him back to bed asap.”

Remi's eyes narrowed suspiciously, then she threw her arms up with a dramatic sigh.

“Fine! You should both be sleeping. Alone. Separately. But I know you're not going to listen to me. You have about five minutes before that big cranky nurse with the sailor arms comes back to check on you, so you better talk fast.”

As soon as the door closed behind Remi, Jenn scooted to one side of the bed and patted the mattress beside her.

“I told her I'd put you back to bed,” she reminded the shocked marine. “Don't make me a liar.”

Jackson hesitated for one terrible moment, then he carefully lowered himself onto the mattress beside her, audibly holding his breath as she snuggled up to his chest.

“Can we start over again?” She asked, clearly surprising him again. “I don't want this - whatever this is - to be over yet. You claimed to love me. So, I'm calling you out. If you really love me, let's try again.”

Jackson reared up onto one elbow, so he could look her right in the eye, his strong body partially blanketing her, sending alternating waves of pleasure and warmth radiating all the way down to her toes.

“I have a better idea,” he murmured, his breath feathering over her cheek. “Let's get married.”

It was Jenn's turn to be shocked.

“What?”

“Marry me,” he urged, lowering his mouth to brush along the sensitive skin below her ear.

He knew she couldn't think straight with him doing that, but she didn't want him to stop either.

“Are you serious?” She asked, breathlessly. “This isn't the sort of thing you can joke about, Jackson.”

“I'm serious,” he purred against her neck. “I should also warn you, we're getting a dog. The next time you're mad at me and send me to the couch, I’d like an extra set of eyes in the room, to keep you safe.”

Jenn braced both her palms against his broad chest, and pushed. Jackson gave a soft groan as he was forced to abandon his sensual exploration downward, and leaned back to meet her gaze once more.

“What about Remi? Your job, here? This is really sudden, Jackson, are you sure you've thought this through?”

“Trust me, sweetheart. I haven't thought about anything else for days. Maybe years. The moment I saw you again, I knew I wasn't going to let you go.”

He gave her a quick kiss to silence the protest she was preparing.

“I've been half in love with you since we were kids,” he admitted. “I'm an idiot for having waited this long to tell you.”

He traced the soft curve of her cheek, his gaze growing infinitely softer.

“Marry me, Jenn. Just give me a chance. I promise to spend the rest of my life making you happy.”

She wasn't sure if she could speak past the lump in her throat, so she nodded instead.

“Yes?”

She nodded again.

“Yes,” she managed to sob, happily. “Yes!”

“Finally!” Remi interrupted from the doorway, where she'd clearly been standing just outside, listening to every word. “It's about freaking time!”

The End.

And they lived happily ever after! 😉

About the Author

I am a passionate writer of paranormal and erotic romance with over two dozen titles to my credit, including Beware of Wolves, the Kitty Coven series, and my ultra-sexy Seduction series.

I believe that a great book can do more than offer an afternoon's pleasure, it can change your life. My favorite stories will often include elements of the paranormal or fantastical, but they will always have a romantic heart.

When not writing, I enjoy traveling, spending time outdoors, gardening, and geeking out online - especially on Facebook.

You can find a full list of my books at CelesteHall.com

Hotter in Hawaii

Sexy Quirky Romance

Alexis Alvarez

Harper Grainger is thrilled to land the job of a lifetime, photographing a brand new Hawaiian resort for the web’s largest travel agency. She’s not so excited to be teamed up with Zach Taylor, the company’s owner.

Sure, he’s sexy, with ripped abs and kissable lips, but his picture should be listed next to “manwhore” in the dictionary, based on his level of extracurricular enjoyment. Besides, ever since that embarrassing night she’d rather forget, their relationship has been awkward at best.

When things start to go awry, beginning with an emergency landing in Phoenix, Arizona, Harper discovers there’s more to Zach than quips and innuendos. He’s surprisingly kind, funny, and smart—and way more insightful than she thought. She swore she’d never get involved with him again, but he can be so persuasive when he whispers dirty promises into her ear! Before long, they’re saving the project and turning the arid desert into their very own passionate paradise.

Zach may be sexy as hell, but he’s still the same guy who’s allergic to commitment. Harper knows she’ll have to let him go when their time together is over, even if it breaks her heart all over again.

Chapter 1

“Harper, a pleasure.” Zach Taylor stuck out his hand and Harper took it, trying not to flush at the touch of his fingers, or the flash in his dark eyes.

“Absolutely,” she rejoined, taking back her hand and setting her camera bag atop the brushed steel table. “Good to see you again, Zach.”

His suit fit him like it was tailored for his strong, trim body. His dark hair was a little long, and a five-o’clock shadow graced his chiseled chin. As owner of the web’s premier travel and vacation planning company, and a former model, he used his looks to advantage to help sell his products. His bad-boy persona was perfect for enticing people to try his website. Once they did, the quality and deals typically made them stay. Don’t think about how he looks naked. Focus.

“I’m here to talk to Raj about the photography job. Pictures for the vacation package in Hawaii.” She pushed her brown curls off her shoulders.

“Raj is out sick.” He raised an eyebrow.

“He didn’t tell me.” She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice. “Should I reschedule when Raj is feeling better?” She touched her cheek, smoothed her skirt down her hips, and glanced away; when she looked back, he was watching her movements, eyes intense. She nearly caught her breath.

He shook his head. “He asked me to take a look, but it’s more of a cursory—I mean, based on the work you did for me in San Diego, I’m ready to hire you right now.” He paused, gestured at her laptop case. “Raj said you had some great new beach and architecture shots.”

She tapped her bag. “Want to see?” Then she flushed, remembering how he’d whispered those exact words to her a few months ago, that one night in San Diego, his lips hovering on her skin, driving her mad with desire.

“Harper, I can give you what you want. Want to see?” That smirk… those chiseled abs, faded jeans. That kiss.

She cleared her throat. “I can pull up my galleries. Here?” She patted the cool tabletop.

He glanced at his watch. “Let’s sit over there—quieter.” He pointed at a duo of low blue armchairs, modern and sleek, tilted half toward each other, with a partial view over the city. The sun, low in the sky, shot filaments of orange and burnt gold through the thick, tinted panes, landing in broad swaths on the industrial navy carpet.

She settled onto the unyielding cushion and crossed her legs, and as his glance skipped over her bare thigh, she thought she saw something change in his expression, something dark, just for her. Too bad he was such a manwhore, or maybe they’d have gotten a chance to see where the passion went. But no, he had to go and fuck things up by being a colossal douche, so now she had the task of turning their awkward tension back into something pleasantly neutral.

She opened her laptop and pulled up her website. “If you click that first link, you’ll see all of my water shots. The second link, there,” she pointed, leaning in, catching a whiff of his cologne, “is architecture.” She pushed a lock of her long, silky brown hair off her shoulder.

He turned his attention to the photos. “Hmmm.” He arrowed through the pages, and then met her gaze. “These are fantastic. But I already know your work is good from the San Diego job.”

Her eyes flickered; the direct praise felt both good and awkward. “Thank you.” She ducked her head.

He closed her laptop lid and tapped it with his fingers. “These have the exact mood and look I want.” He frowned. “You always get it right.”

“And yet you sound less than enthused. Enlighten me?” She raised an eyebrow; on a whim, she uncrossed her legs and slid the other one on top, adjusting her skirt, daring him to follow her motions.

He glanced down, then back up. “I’m entirely enthused. You’d be working with Josh Ames, you remember him from San Diego, I’m sure.” His face tensed up for a minute. He relaxed his expression as he continued, “We’re looking for a photographer for our ‘Hotter in Hawaii’ job. That’s our internal code name for this project.”

She smiled. “What’s hotter there?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Everything.”

“Oh?”

He continued, “We’ll be selling vacation packages for an upscale beach resort called Fantasy Reef. We want to make everything look sexy and classy. The bodies are hotter, the beaches are better, the food is tastier, the scenes are more magnificent. Everything about Maui—and specifically, the Fantasy Reef Resort—is just hotter than any other vacation package in the world.”

“Hotter in Hawaii. I like the sound of it.”

“Josh will be our project manager for this, and you’d be the photographer. We need pictures of the grounds, the ocean view, the rooms, dinners at the restaurant. Gorgeous models on the beach, looking happy and sexy. We’re selling this one hard.”

“Okay.” Inside, her heart leapt with excitement, but she kept her expression neutral. A free trip to Hawaii, to take pictures, something she loved doing? Sure, she could take one for the team. Not to mention that Josh was easy on the eyes, with his blond surfer good looks and dazzling smile, and the life of the party when drinks came out.

Zach continued, “We need pictures that are classy, sexy, young, trendy, and appealing. Our target market is people in their thirties who can afford a luxury vacation. We’re going to show them why they need to pick Fantasy Reef.”

She nodded. “I can do all of that.”

“Josh will arrange all of the meetings for you with the management, as well as the food stylist. Your job will be to be pushy yet courteous and get the best pictures you possibly can. Here’s a list.” He tapped his tablet and showed her a spreadsheet with over a hundred line items, each with a paragraph of detail. “I’ll send this.”

“Of course.” She leaned forward. “Zach, I’m one of the best at taking resort and restaurant photos, and I love landscape and scenery. If you hire me, you will be thrilled with the shots I get. These,” she gestured at the laptop, “are just the start. I’m always improving. If you liked the pictures I took for you in the past, you’ll love my current style.”

“I don’t think you’d disappoint.” His eyes raked over her.

She felt her cheeks redden. God, it was months ago, and it was just one kiss! Why was this still affecting her? It was ancient history—they’d both moved on, way past it. She’d dated someone; broken up. He was… she didn’t even know his status for sure.

Allie, an intern she’d met last time she worked for Zach, approached. She was all cherry lip-gloss and pink cheeks and pretty smile, her ass perfect in her jeans, a sheaf of papers in her hand.

“Zach! Hey. Oh, hi, Harper. Sorry to cut in, I just need a sec. Zach, did you say to send the report to Marx and Klein as well as the Borton group, or just Borton?”

“Allie. Just Borton for now. Thanks.” Zach nodded.

“Perf.” She landed a hand on his shoulder, dripping with exotic silver rings, acting a little too possessive for Harper’s liking, then hurried off.

At twenty-eight, Harper felt ancient compared to Allie and her peers, who seemed to be eternally twenty and blithely youthful. How must Zach feel? He was thirty-six, according to his bio. Was it different for men, or did he look around sometimes, like she did, and wonder how the hell he was such a grownup all of a sudden, and what the fuck were all these kids doing running around? Or did he thank God that he had lots of fresh, vibrant geniuses to do his bidding, both in and out of the bedroom?

“So, are you going to hire me?” Harper gave Zach a smile.

“Yes. You sign the contract right now, and the job is yours.”

“I’ll take it,” she replied automatically and stood up, grabbing her computer. “So…”

“Great. So talk to Marc in HR—you remember him, right?” At her nod, he continued, “He’ll get your flight reservations made for next week. Your first night there is a luau at the resort, one they’ve created especially to outshine other luaus on the island. I’d like to have you there to take pictures. We’ve arranged to have some of their best fire dancers there, and our model couple for romantic honeymoon shots.”

“Awesome. I’m really excited.” She felt that her face must be radiating her enthusiasm. “So that list of shots. Should we go over that now?”

He checked his watch again. “I’m sorry, but I have a meeting in ten minutes. If you’re free, we can go over it tomorrow. What time can you meet?”

“Anytime you want me.” She bit her lip at the double entendre.

He grinned. And just like that, she was back to that moment, just the two of them back from the beach, her hair whipped into her face by the evening breeze, the smell of coconuts rising from her warm shoulders.

It was the second time his company had hired her to take resort pictures. They’d been flirting all week; extra touches on the arm. Sitting together at lunch, his strong thigh touching her knee; her, letting it happen, allowing the pressure. Joking, too, jokes that were a little too provocative for just friends. Laughter. Standing just a centimeter too close and smiling a little too broadly.

But he was a playboy, or so the rumors went, and lots of women approached him with lots of things in their eyes and voices, also standing too close, also smiling too broadly. And she wasn’t sure, even if they seemed to click, whether she was something more to him, or just another potential fling.

His breath on her neck was warm—no, hot; or maybe she was heated from his proximity, because the breeze was mild. He smelled of margarita and faint cologne. “How do you like the resort?” His eyes snapped. He was asking something else entirely.

“I like it a lot,” she breathed, dizzy from his expression, the lust that surged through her like a shot. “More than like. The private pools for the luxury cottages are beyond phenomenal. I’m glad I got the chance to take pictures for your site, Zach. Thank you for hiring me.”

He put his hand on her arm. “Come in for a drink.”

She flushed and raised an eyebrow. “A drink?”

“Anything more is completely up to you.” His voice was light; his expression was not. His gaze burned into her, and then his lips were on hers, a soft brush. “Harper?” He raised an eyebrow.

In reply, she leaned in and kissed him back, and he took her into his arms, skillfully exploring her with his tongue, his hands learning her curves. As the kiss deepened, her passion awoke and she grabbed him, pulling his hips to hers, biting his neck, kissing him with all urgency. His hands on her face, on her neck, on her waist. On her ass, fingers splayed out. His teeth grazing her neck, making her moan.

“I’ve wanted to do this since I first met you,” he whispered. “I can’t get you out of my mind. Please, stay.”

“I’m—but we haven’t even… we just met,” she murmured, face hot. “I want to, but I… and, the job?”

“Right now we’re not working. This evening is about pleasure, not business.” His lips were persuasive, his hands, more so. She was ready to forget all about the fact that she was doing freelance photography for his travel company, and lose herself in this passion.

A pair of businessmen walked past the path and she pulled back. They didn’t look twice at Harper and Zach, and pieces of conversation floated over. “Forward me the specs… remind Logan to keep it professional… contract at stake…”

She bit her lip. “I don’t know, Zach. I should probably go back to my room. We have a busy day tomorrow.”

He let her go. “If you change your mind?” He pointed. “I’ll be here all night. And for the rest of this trip.”

She looked at the luxury property. Thoughts of his body were etched into her mind. She’d wanted him from the second she first met him; judging by the way he followed her with his eyes, the feeling was mutual.

But she turned. “I’m—it was great. The night. The kiss! I’m—I have to go?”

“Are you sure?” He raised an eyebrow, traced one finger down her cheek.

“I’m not into casual.” Her face burned. “I mean, I’m not expecting a ring and flowers, but if I… sleep with someone, I want to be the only one they’re with. You know, at least this week.” She rolled her eyes and forced a laugh, trying to hide the fact that she was intent on his reply.

“I’m willing to try that.” His voice was low, sexy, but also—or so it seemed at the time—earnest. “How about dinner tomorrow?” His grin was wicked. “Maybe I can convince you that my intentions are completely honorable.” His smirk told her otherwise, and she felt a slow burn in her abdomen.

“Dinner would be great.” Charmed and relieved, and turned on even more by his unexpected chivalry, she wanted to melt right into his arms. “It’s a date.”

He touched her arm. “Good night.” His eyes were bright. It was all she could do not to kiss him again.

Later in her room, pacing to the window and back. The breeze too cool, too hot. Unable to get comfortable. Tossing in the luxury sheets, the sound of the ocean a taunt.

Then, as if in a trance, grabbing her room key and walking (just in her short, lacey nightgown!) down the plumeria-overgrown path to his cottage. Lights still on, dim; music, low. Calling his name, eager for his lips, and then:

Zach in the pool with a blonde woman, all brown tan, no lines, their faces close, laughing, about to kiss. Breasts perfect orbs with taut nipples. Face like an angel. Water streaming from her hair, dotting his chest.

The look on Zach’s face—confusion, then comprehension, then a sort of “oh, shit” expression that might have been funny in a sitcom.

The way she hurried back to her room, bare feet on the pavement, embarrassment roiling in her gut.

The next day, his lame attempts at apologies. He wasn’t planning to sleep with Sherry. She just showed up. It was awkwardly horrible timing, but Harper had misunderstood what she saw. He still wanted, if Harper was interested, he still wanted—

Her hand up, stiff response: No. Forget about it. Never mind. Let’s just pretend it never happened and focus on the job. No. Don’t talk to me or I’ll quit. Leave me alone.

“So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He was about to speak, but broke off as Josh came up. “Harper! Raj said he was going to hire you again. Thank you. You’re a lot more fun to work with than Dan Chambers.” He chuckled. “Sorry, but that dude smells like salami, and I’m not talking single slice. It’s more like he’s got a factory in his armpits. Last time I flew with him, his belches were visible. Clouds of pollution in the air. I almost vomited.”

Harper laughed. “Josh! Thanks for such kind words of praise. I’ll add that to my resume right now.” She cleared her throat. “Under special skills: Does not have a personal aroma that can evacuate an entire aircraft and require medical attention for those in her vicinity.”

“Right?” Josh raised his eyebrows. “It’s not totally a joke, though. I mean, if the room dies every time the photographer raises his arms, it’s kind of a problem. You’re easier on the eyes, too.” He pulled her to his side for a squeeze. “You can add that in, too, if you want.”

Harper nodded. “Oh, sure. That won’t be anti-feminist at all, Josh.” She rolled her eyes, but wasn’t insulted; she liked joking around with the crew at Travel On. One of the best parts of being an independent contractor was that although she was hired to work for them, it was more “with” than “for,” and she didn’t need to feel subservient to anyone there.

Zach cut in. “I was going to go over the photo list with Harper tomorrow—”

“No need. I’m the liaison for this project, so I’ll meet with Harper.” Josh put a hand on her arm. Zach hesitated, then inclined his head. “You’re right. That makes more sense.”

“Harp, want to get together for dinner tonight and discuss the plans? There’s this awesome new sushi place in Lincoln Park I want to check out. And you love sushi, right? I remember that from the San Diego trip.” Josh grinned. “Remember, when we all went out for sushi on the beach, and you joked about the wasabi matching the color of your bikini?”

Zach didn’t change his pleasant expression, but a note of tension entered his voice. “I appreciate your memory, Josh. And I appreciate your humor. But please keep in mind that your contact at Fantasy Reef, Leilani Oh, isn’t a coworker in the same way. I expect 100% professionalism for her. Yes?” He raised an eyebrow.

Josh gave a thumbs up. “I will be totally on point with Leilani. I just like to joke around with Harper. She can handle me. Right, Harps?” He nudged Harper with his arm.

“If you don’t behave, I will personally chop you up and feel you to the sharks,” Harper agreed. “Real tiny pieces, all shredded up and stuff, so they really go crazy. You can die knowing that you’re responsible for the best shark photographs in the entire world. Because, you know, I’d bring my camera to document the feeding frenzy.”

“I’d be like machaca!” Josh laughed. “New nickname. You know, machaca, the shredded beef they put in tacos? What do you think? Machaca Josh.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Zach rolled his eyes. “I’m serious.”

Josh stopped laughing. “So am I. Zach, I close all of my deals with respect and get praise from all of our clients. There have never been complaints. You know that.”

Zach nodded. “I do.” He hesitated, looking at the two of them. “All right. I’ll expect the usual—upload pictures and status reports daily, and also regular Skype meetings to go over plans.”

“Of course.” Josh nodded. “Harper and I will absolutely be happy to Skype with you from paradise.” He slung an arm over Harper’s shoulder, and although to her it didn’t feel anything other than friendly, Zach stiffened.

“Harper, I’ll see you then when you get back. Josh. Have a safe trip. Talk soon.” Zach nodded again.

She sighed. Relieved, to some degree, she was glad not to have to face him again soon, because it wasn’t clear how they were supposed to get along now. The other part of her was sort of disappointed, because, well, even though he was a playboy douche who got into bed with someone the minute she turned him down? Well, she was still attracted to him. He was so damn sexy, with that smirk and those muscles. And in her mind she could still see his body, the way he looked in that pool.

Of course, she still had the pictures from that trip, including pictures of him in the ocean, showing his muscles and body, lean in board shorts, photos of him with a surfboard, so she could look at them any time she liked.

She didn’t like. It felt stalker-ish and unprofessional to look at them with lust in her eyes. It was perverse, a mistrust, in a way. She certainly wouldn’t be comfortable, if she were a model, thinking that maybe the photographer had a crush on her and took out her pictures late at night for wank-bank fodder. She shuddered. In any case, the images were etched into her brain so firmly that she didn’t need the photos to summon up his ripped physique.

Chapter 2

“So you’re going to Hawaii?” Talia pretended to cry. “Why can’t you take me along as your carryon luggage?”

“Sure, why don’t I?” Harper laughed. “Put on your rollerblades, stick a handle on your back, and it’s a deal. Nobody will notice me rolling you down the aisle.”

“I can be your assistant, though. You need someone to hold your camera and oil up the models for their shoots.”

“Mostly I’ll be shooting food and rooms and scenery. Those don’t need additional oil.”

“But aren’t you going to take some pictures, at least, of hot guys on the beach?”

“Well, yes. But girls, too, with them.”

“Well, the girls can take care of themselves, but I am very good at applying lotion to sexy male models. You can’t do it; it would mess up your camera.”

“They already have an oil-girl. So sorry.” Harper gave Talia a pretend sad face. “I’ll text you some pics, though. And you can rub pizza grease on your phone and pretend. How’s that sound?”

“Bitch.” Talia tossed a pillow at her bestie. “Thanks a lot.”

“Welc.” She tossed the pillow back. “I’m travelling with Josh.”

“Oh, you mean hot Josh?”

“He’s the only Josh at Travel On.”

“I’d fuck him.” Talia tilted her head, considering. “He’s a tiny bit of a douche, but I bet he’d be an animal in bed, so I could forgive. Are you going to fuck him?” She narrowed her eyes.

Harper laughed. “He’s not my type. And even though he flirts with me, I can tell that he’s not really interested-interested. He’s doing it out of habit. Tell you what. I will keep it totally platonic with Josh, because that way he can save his bod for you. By the time we get back from Hawaii, he’ll be like a virgin again, and you can pop his dick cherry.”

“Cool.” Talia smiled and grabbed at the pizza. “Thanks. Remind him, though, so he doesn’t forget and accidentally stick his cock into a few pretty beach chicks. You know how dudes can be so forgetful sometimes.”

“Oh, you bet. It will be the first thing I say to him when I get on the plane.” Harper giggled. “Can you imagine if someone overheard us? OMG. We could never run for public office.”

“I’d be fired.” Talia grabbed her chest. “And then whatever would happen to the world of accounting?” She cleared her throat. “Wouldn’t it be totes hilarious if you did say that to him, though?” She made her voice high and cute. “My friend Talia has an important message for you.” She paused and dropped her eyes, tracing a pattern on her jeans. “So, um. Do you think he remembers me? I mean, I’m just curious.”

“Uh, I have a sort of feeling that maybe everyone at that office remembers you. It’s not every day that someone actually makes photocopies of their tits at the quarterly party. I think you outshone the sushi bar and the band.”

“It’s such a cliché, so I had to try it!” Talia sounded excited. “You couldn’t even tell what was in the picture, though—all blacked out and grainy.”

“Right. But the fact that you passed out copies to the handsome guys? Sort of… I don’t know. The word embarrassing comes to mind, although it doesn’t quite cover the situation for me. It’s not even my office! I got invited because I’m a trusted contractor with them.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled. She’d brought Talia as her plus one for fun, and as always, Talia had delivered.

“Copy machines will be extinct in less than five years,” cautioned Talia. “So I had to take advantage while I still could. A story for the grandkids, if you will.”

“Oh, of course. Grandpa Josh! Tell me again about how you first met Grandma?” She mimicked a quivery stereotypical old-woman voice. “Well, my dears, I crashed an office party that my friend Harper invited me to, and it wasn’t even her office! This was in the old-fashioned days before we had mind-scan technology. There was an archaic invention called a pho-to-cop-i-er.”

“Stop!” Talia laughed. “You never know. You could totally end up with the last person on Earth you’d think possible. And maybe it would all stem from some awkward, awful interaction that you thought you wanted to forget. And because you didn’t, you changed the course of your entire history.”

Harper’s mind flashed back to Zach. Do you like it when I do this, Harper? She shook her hands out as if undoing kinks. “Well, I need to get my gear ready. It’s not gonna pack itself.”

“I bet that’s what Josh says when he sticks his dick into his boxers in the morning.” Talia nodded sagely. “He’s packing a nice tool, Harps. So does Zach.”

“Zach probably doesn’t bother putting his into his boxers,” Harper retorted. “After all, he needs it handy for every sloppy blonde that comes around panting.” Her voice was sharper than she intended.

Talia’s smile faded. “I’m sorry. I won’t joke about him if it upsets you.”

“No, it’s fine. I just—I don’t know why I ever still care. Why do I give a shit?” Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair. “He’s just a guy. We barely knew each other, so why does it even matter? I don’t know why I’m still irritated about it.”

“Because he disrespected you,” Talia pointed out. “He acted like he was interested in more than a fling by inviting you to dinner, then when you showed up later that night, he was having a fling. He couldn’t even wait a whole hour. It’s pretty shitty.”

“Yeah, but it was months ago. I don’t know why I’m still—I mean, he’s a dick. I get it. Move on.” She spread her hands down over her thighs, smooth in her jeans. “I can work for him without caring about that.”

“Good. You do that.”

“I will.” Harper stuck her tongue out at Talia.

Her friend made a hmmm sound. “So, do you have your drugs for the flight?”

“But of course. Those are going in my purse, front and center, so I can whip them out at the first sign of trouble.”

“It’s really pot, right?”

“God! No. It’s Ativan. It’s like a gentle Valium. I only take them if I’m scared on a plane. They reduce anxiety.”

“So does some good weed.”

“Yes, but that’s not FAA approved, and I don’t want to end up in weird airport jail. Or get dragged down the aisle with my head bleeding or something.” She rolled her eyes.

“Fair point, fair point.” Talia nodded. “Well, I hope you have a great time in Hawaii. Eat lots of sushi, catch a shark, collect shells, drink Mai Tais, and save Josh for me.”

Harper held up her palm. “Deal.”

And as her bestie slapped her palm, she smiled, eager for the adventure ahead.

“Harper Grainger to the counter, please. Harper Grainger? Please come to the counter regarding your seat assignment.”

“Shit.” Harper darted a glance to the flight attendant, who was swarmed with several stroller-wielding parents and a traveler in a wheelchair. Grabbing her camera bag and purse, she approached the counter, noticing that a young guy in his twenties immediately slid into her chair.

“Excuse me? Someone called my name,” she started, tapping her phone to pull up her e-ticket.

The woman glanced at the screen and typed for a lengthy amount of time. She pursed her lips. “I have your new seat assignment. I’ll print you a new boarding pass.” More typing, then a below-counter printer sputtered and sang, spitting out a flat shiny card, one digit at a time. The sound, as always, reminded Harper somehow of old-fashioned computer games from the 1980s, or things that needed to be upgraded.

“I didn’t request a seat change. Do you know why?”

The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, there’s just been a change in the system. You’d have to contact the person who purchased the tickets.”

“Do I still have an aisle seat? I reserved an aisle seat.” Harper tried to stay patient.

The woman’s expression didn’t change. “You still have an aisle seat, yes.” She handed Harper the new boarding pass. “We’ll be boarding momentarily. You’ll be in the A group. Please line up by the gate. Thank you.”

Harper nodded and grasped the pass in her hand. Take the Ativan now, so it could kick in, just in case there was turbulence on the flight? Or be brave and brazen it out? She bit her lip. Now, later. On the one hand, she’d be preemptively prepared. On the other, she didn’t want to be weak, and if she forced herself to wait, she might never need the medication.

It seemed like a monumental decision, and she suddenly hated the whole airline industry and the airports and everything in them. Why wasn’t phasing a thing yet, like in those old Star Trek shows? Why couldn’t she blink her eyes and be in the place she wanted? She tried to smile to force herself into a calmer mood.

Josh wasn’t here yet. She smiled, this time a real smile, thinking of her conversation with Talia. She hoped she didn’t start laughing when she saw him. She’d only worked with Josh once before. Talia was right that Josh was handsome, but he left her without sparks. Just not her type, really.

Now Zach, on the other hand? He was her type, exactly: Tall, dark, brooding, sexy, smoldering. Hot. Smart. Sort of arrogant. Why did she have to fall in lust with a guy who fell into lust with everyone he saw? She’d heard the rumors before she started doing freelance for his company: Zach’s a total playboy. He’s a great businessman, but he’s with a different woman every night. Don’t expect anything from him.

And she hadn’t, until, charmed by him that night, she had. Well, live and learn.

But where was Josh? She craned her neck around the busy boarding area, but he was nowhere in sight. She sent off a quick text: “U on your way? Boarding starting right now.”

She inched forward behind a few business travelers. No Ativan, then. She was going to be brave. It was a dream job, it was Hawaii, and in a few short hours she’d be on the beach, feeling the tropical breezes in her hair, the sand beneath her toes.

When the gate agent scanned Harper’s pass, she broke into a smile. “Welcome to first class. You’re in 4A. Have a great flight.”

“Oh, but I’m not—” Harper glanced at her ticket in surprise, the camera bag hitting her in the side as the strap sidled down her arm. “Okay.” She grabbed the strap with her other arm, bending the pass to get everything situated. “Well, I guess maybe I am.”

Last minute change, why, exactly? This wasn’t how the universe worked. Last minute changes were typically along the lines of “I’m sorry, we overbooked,” or “I’m afraid we’re out of midsize sedans, so you’re going to have to go with a pair of roller skates and a helmet. Thank you for your business. There are free off-brand bandages at the kiosk.”

Chapter 3

Settling into 4A, wide and luxurious, she peered around. Still no Josh, and no word from him on the phone. But a second later, a familiar face had her heart skittering into overdrive; Zach came down the aisle and slid into the seat beside her, her, his cologne wafting over on the slight draft.

“Harper. Good morning.” He slid his case under the seat and snapped his belt. “Josh was reassigned, so I’ll be filling in.”

Filling in. “You will?” She blinked. “Is this why we got first class?”

He smiled. “Free miles, seats were available, I figured why not use the upgrade. Fly in comfort, yes?”

“Sure. I feel rich and powerful already. The ass-marks from the previous first classer are clearly soaking into my pores.” Joking should help her forget about her crush on him. And it should get them back to their light, banter-filled relationship that they had developed before the incident.

He laughed. “That’s disgusting.”

“Well, I don’t think they do much cleaning in between flights, not even up here.” She gestured at the seat back pocket. “I’ll give you five dollars if you stick your fingers all the way in.” She blushed immediately, realizing how that sounded.

“Stick my fingers where, exactly?” He raised his eyebrows, and the look on his face made her body zing with arousal. He wasn’t exactly being flirty or dirty, but he was definitely putting more emphasis into his words than he probably would for a random person. “I don’t usually require payment to put my hands somewhere.”

“I meant, if you stick your hand into the seat back pocket and bring it back out without some kind of nasty, sticky crumbs under your nails. Or a used diaper.”

He grimaced. “I preferred the first mental image.” Then he gave her a wicked smile. “Sorry. Inappropriate.” He cleared his throat.

“I have a pretty powerful sense of humor. I don’t think you could offend me if you tried.” Why was her voice low and sultry, like she was auditioning for a porn movie? Stop! God. This was already ten kinds of wrong and they hadn’t even left the ground. “So. What happened to Josh, exactly? Did you feed him to the sharks in the Shedd?”

“Nothing happened to Josh. Fantasy Reef wanted to talk about a future collaboration face to face. I need to have a personal talk with the CEO of the hotel/resort, and it made sense for me to take his place.” He smiled. “Josh will get to stay in Chicago and do a nice editorial on some new Mexican restaurants in the area. He wanted machaca, he’ll get machaca.”

“I’m sure he’s extremely grateful for that opportunity.” She smirked. “So you decided to inflict yourself upon me.”

“I think you’ll be fine. I promise not to inflict too hard.” His voice was dry.

Why the hell could she not stop thinking of him inflicting her with his hard body, over and over, his naked shoulders and arms strained with effort as he hovered over her body, his face tense with concentration and passion—

She touched her cheek. “Is it hot in here? Shouldn’t first class to Hawaii get their own personal palm-frond wavers or something?” Her laugh sounded, to her, like the bleat of a goat.

Zach reached up and adjusted a dial, and cool air flowed onto her heated face. “Better?” The motion of his body sent his cologne to her, faint tendrils of his sexy scent, and no. It wasn’t better.

“Yes, much. Thanks.” She smiled and took a deep breath.

He settled back. “So, four hours and twenty-two minutes until our transfer in L.A. I think we can get a lot done.”

“A lot done?” More images. Jesus, why could she not just fucking stop?

“We can review the photo log and discuss our plan of attack. I’d like your input and suggestions on what you’d add, change.”

“I talked about that with Josh last night.”

“So you can get me up to speed and we’ll finalize everything.”

“All right.”

A couple of hours later, heads bent together over his laptop, she was more comfortable. Working with Zach was easy; he was smart and organized, took ideas and constructive criticism without getting alarmed, and valued collaboration. She could almost forget that he was a sexy guy, and someone with whom she’d almost hooked up; at this moment, in a meeting of the minds, he was a business partner.

Feeling enthused, she took a sip of water from her bottle. “Zach, I think we really got this. I know we’re going to get amazing pictures for your site. This travel package you’re going to offer with Fantasy? I think you’ll sell out within hours. I can already see it.”

He smiled and closed his screen. “I think so. I can’t wait to see what you do for us.”

She closed her notebook and stowed it in her case. “Is it getting a little bumpy?” She bit her lip, peered past him out the window, although nothing was visible but clouds below them in a plateau of blue.

He shrugged. “Turbulence is pretty common on this route.”

“Yeah.” Unconvinced, she blinked hard, still staring out the window, as if the force of her gaze could summon something of substance. “I kind of hate turbulence.”

He patted her hand, letting his palm rest on the back of her fingers for a second. The warmth was comforting as well as exciting. “But don’t you have to fly a lot for your job?”

“Until this year, that job with you for San Diego, I did mostly weddings and portraits and some commissions for local companies. So travel was mostly for vacation. Sure, I fly, but not a lot. And I’ve always been a nervous flyer.”

“You’ll have to get over that if you decide to branch out and do more travel photography.”

The plane lurched and she bit her lip. “Yes. Thank you for the reminder. I appreciate that.”

“Not trying to give you a hard time.” He regarded her. “There are a lot of techniques available.”

“Yes, I know—oooooow.” She gripped the armrests hard, knuckles whitening with pressure before she forced herself to let go. “Okay, that was a big bump.” She sucked in a deep breath. “It’s fine, though! Right? It’s totally normal.” She knew it was; had read articles and even books on it. Still, nothing she’d read could halt the nervous dread that came when the airplane skipped.

Glancing around the cabin, she noted that nobody else had flinched. Across the aisle, a young couple was asleep, him with a blanket, her with a sleep eye mask, lolling on his shoulder. In the row ahead, a businessman was typing without pause. An elderly woman touched her tablet, turning pages, placid and stable.

“Yes, it is.” Zach gave her a reassuring smile.

The plane settled into a rhythm, and Harper tried to relax. Zach was reading something. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, thinking it would be good to wake up and have already landed. But the irregular jostles, just more than fitting into her comfort zone, kept her stomach zinging.

She carefully pulled up her purse, not wanting Zach to see what she was doing, and searched for the bottle of Ativan. Fuck. It wasn’t there. She got a sudden image of the bottle sitting on the bathroom counter, waiting to go into her purse. She’d never taken it.

Harper turned to Zach. “How much time until we land?”

He checked his watch. “About an hour and a half.”

“Fuck.” She whispered it, but he heard.

“Harper?” He put his hand on her arm for a second, and she wished he would keep it there. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

“You seem pretty anxious.”

“Well, I—raaaaah!” she squealed as the plane jerked in the air. This time, she was loud enough to attract curious, if passive, glances. “Sorry.” She grabbed Zach’s hand next to hers, not giving a shit if it was inappropriate. “You know what? I am. I am anxious. And I forgot my anti-anxiety airplane medicine.”

He didn’t act like this made her some psychotic weird person, or a weak loser. Instead, he reached over and put his other hand on hers. “It’s going to be okay.”

She nodded vigorously, grateful for his support. “I know. Of course. Oh my God. Fuck this airplane. Why does it have to be so bumpy?”

Bing, bing, bing. A second later, the pilot’s voice, clear and calm: “Ladies and gentleman, please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts immediately. We’re in a bit of rough air right now, and reports tell me it’s going to last a while, as we’re heading into a bit of a weather pattern. Please sit tight. Flight attendants, take your seats.”

Deep breath. This was normal. People did this every day. No reason to be alarmed. But she couldn’t stop the clammy sweat that broke out on her palms, or the way her heart started to pump hard, banging in her chest like sneakers in a dryer.

She rubbed her lip over and over, only stopping when it hurt. “This is just so much fun.”

“Let’s talk. Distract you. Okay?” Zach patted her hand, clenched in his other one. “Tell me something about your childhood. Something you don’t usually talk about.” His voice was low and encouraging.

She swallowed. “Okay. Yeah, so, interesting fact. When I was a child, I never flew on shitty turbulent planes.”

He laughed. “Something serious. Come on. Give it a try.”

“Okay. So—” She thought for a minute, then let the words flow, as if they could build some scaffolding and connect this airplane to solid ground. “So my grandparents had a farm in Wisconsin, about four hours out of Chicago, and we’d go there on weekends. My grandma had a horse named Pulaski, but it was a girl. She liked the name Pulaski. We told her it wasn’t a good girl name but she didn’t care. She said the name with an awesome accent, and she talked to Pulaski in Polish. She said Pulaski looked just like the horse back home, the one they had to leave behind.”

“Was your grandma from Poland?” He rubbed her hand with his thumb.

“Yes, she came here during World War II as a teenager. Her life is insane. Sometimes I can’t believe I’m afraid of planes, when she lived in DP camps in Germany and had to leave her home and everything, and took a ship to a new country. When she was younger than I am.”

“Bravery comes in many forms.” His voice was serious. “Sometimes doing the thing that makes us nervous is the hardest thing in the world.”

“What’s hard for you?” She blurted it out, keeping her death grip on his fingers.

“This is about you.”

“Well, if that’s really true, then spill. I can’t have a one-sided serious conversation. It’s too much like therapy, which reminds me of things that make me need therapy, like flying through turbulence.” She squeezed harder.

“Okay! Okay. What was the question, then? I’ll talk, interrogator.” He grinned.

“Tell me something that’s hard for you to do.”

“For me?” He paused, then met her eyes. “Well, for me, it’s hard, sometimes, to delegate. I built Travel On from the bones up. I hire people I trust, and yet it’s difficult to let them take ownership of things I used to do.” He cleared his throat. “This isn’t something I talk about a lot. I think it’s best for a leader to show his strengths, not his weak spots.”

“Like you delegated to Josh?” She made air quotes on delegate.

He looked away. “That’s different.”

“Well, I only ask because it seems that you didn’t trust him with this project, after all.”

“I trust him with the project.” His eyes drilled into hers. “But—”

A larger lurch had her whimpering. This time, other people noticed the turbulence, and the gasps and squeals around the plane only made her more nervous.

“It’s fine.” His voice was firm. “Keep talking.”

“I can’t.” She gripped the seat harder.

He leaned in. “Yeah, you can. Tell me a secret. Something important.”

“A secret?” Despite herself, she leaned in, interested in where he was going with this.

“It’s either that or I’ll give you math to do in your head. You want to multiply fractions for me?” He raised an eyebrow, at once humorous and stern.

“No!” she giggled, amused, even through her fear, and also aroused at his domineering attitude, which was incredibly and unaccountably sexy. “God, no. Okay. A secret.” She blinked, then leaned in. “You promise you’ll never tell anyone?”

“On my honor.” His voice was low and his breath warm on her ear. She sucked in air, suddenly caring not at all about the plane and the way it bucked like a horse with a stiff back.

“I’ve never tasted tequila in my entire life.”

He laughed. “That’s your deep, dark secret?”

She shrugged. “I’m squeaky clean. What can I say?”

“Dig deeper, Harper.” His voice was a mesmerizing command. “I know you’ve got more in there.”

Chapter 4

“Well, I’m not going to tell my secrets unless you do, too. We’ll trade. One for one. Fair?”

“Deal.” He smiled. “So go on and wow me.”

“No way. It’s your turn. You do some wowing.”

“Ah. All right.” He leaned in and whispered, “I’ve never tasted snake meat.”

“That’s even a thing?” Her eyebrows shot up. “Please. That does not even count.”

His chuckle rolled over her. “It’s about as secret-ish as tequila. You get as good as you give in this game.”

“Whatever.” She felt her body thrum with energy. This was fun. “Okay, so here’s one. Once I went skinny-dipping in college at my apartment complex. It was me and my friend Dawn. We were a little drunk.” She paused to drink water. When she looked back, Zach’s eyes were glittering.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice silky.

“So we were drunk and we just stripped down right at the outdoor apartment complex pool one night. It was late, like midnight. There was nobody around, just us. We jumped in and were splashing each other and giggling. The water felt so good, you know? Like silk. I was drunk, but I remember how nice it felt to have my entire body bathed in the water, no clothes at all. It was amazing.” She paused, remembering.

Zach clenched a muscle in his jaw. “Harper?”

“Yes?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. Please, carry on.”

“I remember thinking how pretty she looked in the moonlight and the halogen lights, like a mermaid in the water. And I couldn’t see myself, but I felt the same way. Beautiful. Powerful. Like everything was going to be okay, right then and forever.”

It seemed like her story was having some kind of effect on Zach. And although she honestly hadn’t originally intended to mess with him, the opportunity was too good to pass up.

She leaned in a little closer. “Now this part is really a secret, okay?”

He didn’t speak.

“So then she and I, we just looked at each other. And her eyes were so pretty, Zach. And her lips were all wet with water and luscious. And she was, at that moment, the most beautiful person I’d ever seen in the world. Can you imagine what I wanted to do next?”

“What?” His whisper was harsh.

“Now it’s your turn to tell me a secret. Then I’ll finish mine.” She gave him an innocent smile.

He laughed. “Okay. You want a secret like that?”

She nodded. This was entirely inappropriate, but she liked it. And right now, trapped in this aluminum can, shaking like a dryer about to explode, she needed it. She needed every goddamn word of this, to celebrate life, and passion, and remind herself that she was coming back to them both in just a few minutes.

“I’ve been skinny-dipping with a gorgeous woman, too. More than once.” He gave her a dirty smirk. “And I didn’t just imagine what I wanted to do. I did it, right there at the side of the pool, on the deck chairs. In the cabana. Even in the water.”

“I heard it doesn’t work that well in the water.”

“Oh, if you know what you’re doing, you can make it work anywhere, Harper.” His gaze was direct and sexy, and she caught her breath. “Now you finish your story. I’m very eager to hear about that girl’s lips.”

“Mine doesn’t end the same way,” she confessed, a smirk on her face. “Sorry to disappoint.” She giggled. “I didn’t want to kiss her, Zach. It was different. I just thought she was so pretty, and the fact that the two of us were there—so young, and pretty, and wet…”

She checked his face and continued, “It made me feel like we had the whole world at our disposal. Like, we’re young, and free and smart, and we have this amazing potential to do whatever the fuck we want. I felt sort of infinite.”

She thought he might laugh, and she held her breath. “It was a really important moment. Because at that same time, I also felt sort of sad, and worried. That I might not live up to that potential. That maybe, just maybe, this magical moment was the highlight of my entire life, and from here on out, instead of soaring high, I’d start a slow, downward slope into oblivion.”

“Wow.”

She nodded. “So it was really interesting. And then. So there was this older woman who lived at the complex? Nadine? Well, she hated me and Dawn. Always complaining about our loud music or the fact that Dawn smoked.” She paused. “In retrospect, we probably were annoying. But anyway. Nadine really hated us, and she came out to scold us for laughing so loudly in the pool right next to her open window. We sort of, probably, if I remember right…” She ducked her head. “Maybe we were not too sympathetic.”

“Oh, no.” Zach smiled. “What did she do?”

“She took our clothes!” Harper’s voice rose in mock indignation. “Just scooped them up and hobbled off, the old crone. She was like ninety. Then she yelled some more, and other people opened their windows to look, and Dawn and I had to get out of the pool totally naked and run back to our apartment. It was horrible.”

“That’s kind of funny.” But his eyes gleamed with something other than humor. “You know, most guys would want an alternate ending to that story, though.”

“I am aware. I also wanted an alternate ending. Not a lesbian experience.” She punched his arm. “But one that involved clothes and less humiliation.”

“But I bet you played your music more quietly after that, am I right?”

She scowled. “As a matter of fact, we received a visit from the apartment manager regarding our midnight shenanigans and were put on an eviction warning. We had to be on our best behavior after that.”

She sighed, thinking it over. “It’s a funny story, but there’s a reason it’s a secret. Do you know why?”

He shook his head.

“It’s because I’m not like that anymore, and it embarrasses me to know I once was. I’m not upset that I skinny-dipped. The part that bothers me is that we were bitchy to that old lady so much that she hated us. You know? Today, I think I’m a kind person who cares about others and would never deliberately inconvenience someone. To know that I acted that way once? It’s not a good feeling.” She bit her lip. “It makes me call into question everything about myself, sometimes. It makes me try harder, to really focus on being a good person.”

“I understand that.”

“You do?” She checked his face.

“I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things in my past that I’d never repeat. Of course. I think we all have. The important thing is to learn from it, and grow and change.”

“But doesn’t it bother you that those things are still in you?” She shook her head.

“Not if the me of today is not like that.”

“So what’s one of yours?”

“My what?”

“Things you’re not proud of.”

He thought. “I walked by a homeless man one time. When my friends made a rude joke about him, I laughed, too.”

She was silent, giving him room to continue.

“I was probably in seventh grade. This is in New York City, Manhattan. I used to see this guy all the time outside the Apple Deli. Because I had chess club—”

She couldn’t help but interrupt. “You did chess club? In grade school?”

He raised a brow. “And I won trophies. May I continue?”

“Of course. Carry on.” She let go of his hand to give him a royal wave, then took it again.

He squeezed her fingers gently. “Thank you. So I stayed later than my friends, who thought chess club was stupid, but accepted it. It was a little tense but it worked. So this guy, he was kind of funny. Maybe mentally fucked up a little bit, I don’t know, but funny. And he’d never ask for money outright, but he always had a different sign with something clever on there. And he had a dog.”

He ran a hand through his hair and hesitated. “I started saying hi to him. I’d go in there to get a snack, in the deli, and sometimes I’d get him a Coke and candy bar, too. It’s not like we were bromance buds or anything, but we sort of had an understanding.”

“Okay?”

“So one time I went there with my buddies, earlier than usual, and he was there, with his dog, sitting on the milk crate, with a sign. And my friends.” He stopped. “This is still hard. So my friends started saying really mean shit, like, He’s as ugly as his dog, I’d rather feed the dog than that asshole. And he looked at me and recognized me. And I looked away, and I laughed with them. And we walked away.”

His voice grew taut. “And the next day I went to find him, thinking I could maybe buy him a real lunch to let him know I didn’t mean it, but he was gone. Never came back. Ever.”

“Oh, Zach.” She pressed her palm to his forearm. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. You know, I’m sure he heard worse. It’s not like my stupid experience was going to make or break his life. Maybe he found a better place to go, that got more money. Maybe he found a shelter. I know he probably didn’t leave because of me and my shitty friends. But still, every time I think about that, I get a bad feeling.” His face looked somber.

She nodded. “I know.”

“So from that moment on,” he said, “I told myself I’d never stand by again and listen and laugh while someone else was a bully. And I didn’t.”

“So you used the experience to change,” she said.

“Yeah. “ He examined her face. “I’ve never told that to anyone. Ever.”

“Oh.” She flushed. “Thank you for trusting me with the story.”

He nodded. “It was a little like skinny-dipping.”

“No. That’s not at all like skinny-dipping!”

“Well, metaphorically speaking. You were stripped naked running away in front of people. I felt stripped raw in front of that guy, my real self showing. And it wasn’t a good one.”

She wrinkled her nose. “That does make sense.”

“Philosophy at thirty thousand feet. Maybe the thinner air lets our real thoughts escape more easily.”

“So you played chess as a kid, though? That’s cool.”

“Not according to my friends. They tolerated me because of my parents’ wealth and donations to the school. We were an important family, so my quirks were… accepted. The other kids on the chess team got mocked a lot, I think. I only did it because my father insisted. I was good at it, but I didn’t like the competitions.” He gave a half chuckle.

“Your so-called friends sound like assholes. And why didn’t you like the competitions?” She leaned in, entranced with his eyes, curious to hear his story.

He shrugged. “The fun was all gone from it when everyone kept watching like it was a football game, commenting on every move. It made me feel stifled. So eventually I quit.” He gave her a rueful grin. “And yes, you’re right about the friends. I found better ones in high school and college, real ones.”

“I never learned chess. I can speak three languages, though.”

“Which ones?”

“English, Polish, and French. I’m totally fluent. Accent’s not quite right, but I can keep up.”

“Tell me something in French.” His eyes were bright.

She responded automatically. “Tes yeux sont superbes et je veux t’embrasser.” Then she blushed.

“What does it mean? Was it dirty?” He grinned.

“I’ll never say.” Harper drank more water. “Do I look like a dirty girl to you?”

“Now that’s a question I can’t answer.” He laughed. “If I say no, it might be an insult. If I say yes, it could be construed as harassment. I like to joke, but even I have limits.” He quirked a brow. “With coworkers, anyway.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t mind anything right now.” Harper put the bottle back down.

“If you say so.” He examined her face. “You still nervous?”

She nodded. “It won’t go away now until we land. I just have to ride it out.”

The plane seemed to lunge forward, as if attacking something. She sucked in her breath.

“Hey, eyes on me, Harper. Let’s keep talking.”

“All right.”

“What’s your biggest goal in life?”

“What is this, a behavioral interview?” She pursed her lips.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what it is. Next you’ll bubble in a form to figure out if you’re an INXS or an FOMO.”

“Oh my God. Myers and Briggs would roll over in their graves. If they’re dead. Are they dead?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Come on, talking about important stuff will activate the part of your brain that’s succumbing to the anxiety and override it. Talk.”

“Fine.” She nodded. “My goals? So I like doing photography. It’s a good job. I want to keep doing that and start getting some really important clients, build my business and hire more people. I’d like to get really rich doing it. I know that sounds materialistic, and it is, in a way. But it also means success and stability.”

“What else?”

“What else? Well.” She paused. “I’d like to maybe write a book and have it sell well, a photograph book. Maybe I’d want to teach a class, someday.”

“And?”

“Zach, isn’t that enough?” She made a face of joking frustration. “That’s enough to keep me occupied for a decade at least.”

“Sure, for work. What about for pleasure?” He raised an eyebrow. “For fun.”

“Photography is fun.”

He waited.

“Well, I mean—travel, I guess. Although sometimes, like right now, the getting-there part is less than awesome. I want to see Machu Picchu and the Galapagos. I want to photograph them. I could get great pictures! Not just to publish, but—for me.”

“Okay, here’s a question.” He cleared his throat. “Let’s say you got a once-in-a-lifetime chance to visit Machu Picchu and the Galapagos Islands. Private tour, best in the world, all-access. All the places. As long as you want. Best naturalists to tell you what’s going on. But here’s the thing: You can’t bring your camera. Not even a cellphone camera. Nothing. Just you. Would you take it?”

Chapter 5

“Zach, God! That’s a horrible question! That’s like telling me I get to go hear a symphony by the best orchestra in the world, but I have to wear earplugs.”

“Well, would you? Yes or no.”

“I’d want to go. But it would be so hard to know I was seeing these things for the only time in my life and I couldn’t capture them.”

“You could bring a journal. Your memory. But no camera.”

“That’s like asking me to go on a hike without a leg. My camera, Zach? It’s like part of me, you know? Part of my whole life. I don’t go anywhere without taking pictures. It’s like things are worth more to me when I get to photograph them. If I can’t take pictures, it’s like the experience is somehow flatter. Less worthwhile.”

“That’s so strange to me. Because for me,” he said, “it’s the opposite. If there are constantly cameras going, it feels like I’m missing out on the essence of what’s happening. Worrying about capturing it for the future instead of actually enjoying it in the moment.”

“But most of your trips involve photography and directing it—having people take pictures for your travel sites. Right?”

“Sure, but that’s the work part. I appreciate the pictures. But the times I really have fun are when it’s just me and the waves, for example. If I’m surfing. I don’t want a fucking picture of the water, I want to be in the water and with the water. I want to be the water, Harper. A picture’s not the same.”

“Okay, when it comes to surfing, I get that. But how about sightseeing, something gorgeous, like a waterfall?”

“Then I want to get lost in the moment, to just see it without any worries about posing or smiling in front of it. I don’t want to have someone tell me about apertures and shadows and whether or not it’s the right fucking time of day to get a good shot. I hear that all the time on the work missions. I just want to relax into the moment and go with the flow.”

She frowned. “But for me, photography is my flow, Zach. That’s how I enjoy and get into the moment.”

“Not while you surf, though.”

“I don’t know how to surf!” She turned to him. “And of course I like to look at things without the camera in the way.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do.” She blinked. “Why do I feel sort of like you’re insulting me right now?”

“I’m not.” His voice was earnest. “I’m just telling you how I feel.”

“You shouldn’t insult the people you rely on to build your business success, Zach.”

“No.” He sounded frustrated. “Not an insult. Maybe an observation and a question rolled into one. Honestly, I’m not disrespecting you or what you do. Just trying to understand. It’s clearly more than a job to you. Is that right?”

“Yes.” She struggled to find the right words. “It’s part of my existence. Taking pictures is in my fingers and blood. Without the camera, my hands feel empty. It’s like all these opportunities are all around me and if I don’t have the camera, they disappear forever.”

“So you don’t think you could enjoy the Galapagos without your camera.”

“Not really, no. I’d be constantly regretful. I’d have to say no to that trip.”

“Well, that’s sort of sad.”

“Well, what’s also sort of sad is that you can’t enjoy a night without a woman to fuck.” She flinched. “Sorry.” Although she wasn’t sorry that she’d thought it.

“Ouch.” He frowned. “That’s pretty harsh. And out of nowhere.”

“You have to admit that your relationships are somewhat plentiful and short.”

He scowled. “I’m sorry, how did we get from your photography to my sex life?”

“Truth at thirty thousand feet,” she retorted. “Thin air made me say it.”

His gaze softened into something both embarrassed and apologetic. “You’re thinking about that time in San Diego.”

She pulled away. “No, I’m not. I was just commenting, because, well, you don’t settle down. Right? That’s not your thing.”

“I think we should talk about it. It’s clearly been between us ever since.”

“No, we don’t have to talk about it. I think it’s better if we—”

“Look, I really didn’t mean to offend you or hurt you.” He sounded sincere. “Honestly. I like you, Harper. I liked you then. I thought we had a connection, an attraction. I wanted to investigate that.”

“Okay, and I understand that, and I felt it, too. I just, you know, I’m not so much into one-night stands. And I misunderstood, apparently. I thought you were interested in getting to know me. But when I showed up and you were naked in the pool with someone else, I realized that we just don’t have the same philosophy on what it means to get to know someone.”

“That’s not—”

“And it’s fine. It’s fine! I didn’t understand, but then I did, and I get it. It’s okay. And I enjoy working with you, and I absolutely appreciate you trying to help me relax through this fucking turbulence.”

He blew out a breath. “I tried to explain. She showed up. Uninvited. I didn’t expect her, nor did I expect you back that night.”

“Well, see, if I’m going on a date with someone to dinner tomorrow, I’m not going to fuck a stranger tonight. To me, that’s not how it goes. It’s not… wrong, Zach. But yes, I was hurt, okay, a little bit. And it was really weird and awkward.”

“I wasn’t going to fu—” He lowered his voice. “I wasn’t going to sleep with her, Harper. She came in, she took off her dress, she got into the pool, and she came right up to me. And yeah, okay, when she kissed me, I kissed her back. But I wasn’t going to sleep with her. I really did want to have dinner with you the next night. I was about to ask her to leave.”

“So tell me this. After I left. What happened then?”

He hesitated.

“Come on, Zach.”

“Well, I slept with her.” He looked sheepish.

“Oh my God. See? I knew it. I knew it!” She crossed her legs and scowled. “You’re such a whore.”

He laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

He shrugged. “For hurting you.”

“I just want us to work together easily.” She looked at him.

“Harper, I like working with you, okay? You’re a great photographer, and you’re fun. And you don’t smell like salami.” He gave her a grin that made his dimple show, and she melted a little bit inside. “Josh was really on point about that.” He continued, “I’m sorry about that night. I handled it wrong. I don’t want to be an asshole, and I was to you, and for that I’m sorry.”

“So why did you even ask me out to dinner, then?”

“I don’t know.” He sounded honest. “I really did want to get to know you better, but when you saw me and her and got so mad, I could see that you were done with me. And then she was very persuasive and came up with some creative ways to, uh, make me feel better.” He sounded regretful. “I was sorry the next day, though, about that, about all of it. I wanted to call you and apologize, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Or how to say it. And when you yelled at me, I figured it was better to focus on the job.”

She nodded. “Yeah. That was probably the best thing, in the end.”

“So. Friends?” He held out his hand.

“We should shake on that?” She gave him a look.

“Unless you prefer to crush my bones to powder, like you’ve been doing for the past hour.” He shook his hand out and gave a mock grimace. “You’ve got a powerful grip.”

“You have no idea.” She gave him a wink.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, now that we’re such good friends, you get to know the important things about me. And if you get to joke and talk about dirty things, so do I.”

“Noted.” He grinned, but something in his eyes flashed.

“You need strong, supple hands,” she continued, holding them both up and wiggling her finger, “to be able to manipulate the camera with ease for hours.”

“I imagine you do.” He sounded a little tense.

“Oh, it’s true. My hands have to be able to stroke the buttons softly, or push hard when necessary. A great grip. Hard, but also soft.”

“Okay.”

“Strong thighs, too, and knees. You know, constantly getting up and down. Working from my knees a lot.”

“Aha.”

“All tied up with the camera handles and leather straps.”

“Mmm.”

“Sweat dripping down my body, my muscles straining with exertion, all for that final elusive shot of pleasure.”

“Harper.”

“Yes?”

“I get it.”

Presently, the plane bucked, then dropped. There was no other way to describe it. One minute it was flying; the next, an elevator whose cable had been cut. Empty plastic cups flew around like hail. She wasn’t the only one who cried out, and when the plane leveled out, she sobbed, shaking. Someone’s drink had splattered all across the ceiling, caramel Coke spots. To her consternation, she found herself spending several torturous seconds wondering if they looked more like a Jackson Pollock painting or diarrhea, even while she felt panic overwhelming her. A hysterical giggle welled up in her throat and came out like a cough. Someone behind her cried.

Through the melee, the pilot’s voice broke in, calm and unperturbed. “Folks, I’m sorry about that. We hit a patch of what we call clear air turbulence. We dropped about, ah, probably about forty feet just now. The plane is perfectly safe. I, ah, have reports from a plane ahead of us that they encountered something similar. Because of the turbulent air, I’ve decided to divert and have us land in Phoenix, Arizona. Please sit tight and relax. I’m going to keep the fasten seatbelts sign on for the duration of the flight. Please stay seated. Thank you.”

Static, then, “If you lost any items during the turbulence, please stay seated, and the flight attendants will help you retrieve them when we land.”

Harper peered out at the wing, at the flashing lights, and wished the wing was ground. God, if only that wing, that solid beautiful metal wing, were ground to stand on.

Voices behind her: “Forty feet? What is he, insane? That was, like, at least three thousand feet in three seconds!”

Zach poked Harper. “That would be faster than the speed of sound. Pretty impressive, huh?” He winked.

She tried to smile. “I didn’t hear a sonic boom.”

The start of the descent, the plane tipping just slightly forward, was welcome and she felt a rush of joy—soon they’d be landing.

But she needed to talk, about important things, to help ground her. She turned to Zach and blurted out, “Have you ever been in love?”

He tilted his head. “I didn’t expect that.” He paused. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“It’s sort of more a yes or no question, Zach.”

“Well, it’s more complicated than that, though.” He was silent for a second. “I’ve cared about people deeply. Liked them a lot.”

“Have you ever been in a long-term relationship, though?”

“Of course.” He sounded tense. “But that didn’t end well. And whatever emotions I had for her, for that—well, they ended up being not worth much. So.”

“But were you in love?”

“Well, I suppose so.” He shrugged. “Sure, okay, I was. But like I said, that ended, and not prettily. And it became obvious to me what I felt had not, in fact, been real love. How could it have been, when she left?” But his voice was more curious than angry. “If it didn’t last, could it really have been love?”

She bit her lip. “Well, I don’t know. Maybe.”

He raised his eyebrows. “It’s a yes or no question.”

She laughed. “Right. Nice. Well, I don’t know if it’s fair to judge emotions by how long they last, as if duration affects intensity. If it’s love, it’s love, whether it lasts for a minute or a lifetime.”

“It just seems that if it was real love, whatever that is,” he said, his voice low, “it would have lasted. No?”

She shrugged, helpless to know the answer. “I can’t say. But if it felt real, then it was real. That’s what I believe.”

“Well, I don’t know that I agree. And I’m not looking for love right now. Just… fun.”

“Just passing the time?”

“Isn’t that what we’re all doing, really, at heart, whether we’re in love or not? Just passing the time?” He glanced at the wing, then back at her face. “The trick is to pass it well, to live to the fullest, I think.”

She glanced past him to the wing, the flashing lights giving her comfort. “That’s why I like photography, then. That’s my full.”

“Well, that’s why I like my form of enjoyment.” He gave her a smirk. “Such as it is.”

“Whatever!” She slapped his arm.

The downward pull intensified, and she breathed out in relief. “I love that feeling,” she confided to Zach. “That tilt from horizontal to slightly down. It means we’ll be on the ground soon.”

He nodded. “So, have you been in love, then?”

“Well, yes, of course!” She rolled her eyes at the question, then bit her lip. “I guess. I mean, according to your definition, not. But according to mine, yes, at the time.” She paused. “Although, I suppose…”

“You suppose what?”

“I don’t know. I suppose that the next time I fall in love, I want it to be more. More than what I had last time.” She searched his face. “After a while you get tired of the hollowness of past experiences, and want what they write about in books and songs.” She blinked. “So, yeah, I want that. You know?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

The plane shuddered, felt like it was being pushed from a dozen directions, a dozen hands of gods playing with toys, careless. She cried out and grabbed at Zach. “Oh Holy Jesus. Fuck me, make it stop already.” She laughed instead of crying, but the sound wasn’t joyful. “Are we going to land soon? I can’t even.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed her, his tone even. “Yeah, soon.”

She peered out the window, but only saw the wing and cloud, no land yet.

Zach looked, too. “Hmm.”

“What?” She grabbed his arm.

“Let’s just keep talking.”

“I just want to know why you said ‘Hmm.’”

“No reason.” His voice was testy. He glanced out again, craned his neck to peer at the wing.

“Why are you looking out there? Is something wrong?”

Chapter 6

His laugh was short. “Harper, please relax. Can’t a person look out their window?” He patted her hand, but the gesture seemed forced. “Didn’t talking help you before?” He leaned in.

She nodded, willing to try.

At that moment, the pilot’s voice came over the loudspeaker. “This is Captain Ryan. Folks, we have a situation with the aircraft regarding the flaps. They’re not deploying, so we’re going to do a flapless landing at Phoenix Sky Harbor Airport. This is not a reason to panic and it’s not related to the earlier turbulence. We’re going to get you on the ground safe and sound. Only difference is we’ll be coming in faster than normal, and if you’re in a window seat you won’t see the flaps deploying.”

Static, then his voice again: “—see a few emergency vehicles lined up along the runway just as a precaution, so don’t panic.”

Harper sucked in air and her vision went fuzzy, like old-fashioned TV static, and her heart clumped and skipped.

“Harper. It’s all right. This is something that happens all the time. Every week. Okay? I’ve been in a situation like this before and it’s fine. He’ll come in fast, like he said, and apart from that, it will be just like usual. Look at me. Hey, look at me. Okay?”

She forced herself to look at his face. “I swear to God, I’m never going to fly again. If we get out of this alive, I’m fucking not going to Hawaii or anywhere. I’m going to lie down on the ground and kiss it and cry. I swear it. You can fire me or whatever. I don’t care. I’m going to drive back to Chicago and never get on an airplane, never the fuck again.”

He wiped at a tear. “No, you’re going to be just fine. Come on. Keep looking at me. It’s okay. No panic. Everything will be fine.”

“What if the turbulence messed up more things?”

“This isn’t because of the turbulence. Sometimes this happens, the flap thing.”

“You’ve really been through this before? For real?” Her voice quivered.

“Yeah, I have.” His hands were warm on hers, his face earnest. “I have. It was fine. This will be fine, too.” His voice was soothing.

“My heart is going to explode.” She put a hand to her chest. “I’ll die from that even if we don’t crash. It’s going a million beats a minute.”

“Mine’s not. Feel?” He grabbed her hand and placed it on his chest. “See? I’m not lying to you. I’m not scared. This will be fine.”

She pressed her palm into his warmth, hard, shifting, until the beat reached her skin, and he was true to his word: His heart, even and strong, pulsed at a typical pace.

“Now look at me,” he ordered. “Try something. I read a report on love once. You know what it said?”

She shook her head.

“It said that if lovers stare into each other’s eyes for three minutes, their heartbeats often start to match each other, and it’s usually the woman’s rate that changes to match the man’s. Science.”

Despite her horror, she made a face. “Jesus, even in biology we’re expected to follow the man everywhere?”

He laughed. “Only because you’re more empathetic than men, at least the scientists suggested. So look into my eyes and match my heart. Come on.”

“But we’re not lovers.” Still, she was mesmerized by his gaze, already caught up in his stare.

“We almost were,” he whispered into her ear. “We wanted to be, remember? I think that’s good enough to count.”

She flushed and glanced down.

He touched her chin. “Nuh-uh. Eyes up. Look at me. Just try. Talking helped before, yeah? Give me a shot at this, too.”

She raised her eyes back up to his. “Three minutes, is that right?”

“Have you ever looked at someone without stopping for three minutes?”

“Of course.”

“When?”

“Well.” She thought, still looking at him, his gaze unflinching. “Well, maybe my parents? Friends, while we’re talking? I mean, a professor? I look at people for longer than three minutes, a lot.”

“Three uninterrupted minutes, though. It’s very different.”

“Then I guess… never.”

He swallowed. “Neither have I. We’ll be each other’s first.” He smiled.

She smiled back. “This is weird.”

“You can write an article about it.”

“I don’t think so.” She still had her hand pressed to his heart. “It’s not working. I’m still going to pass out, I can tell.”

He took her other hand and put it on his chest, and laid both of his hands over hers. “You’re going to be just fine. What do you see in my face?”

“Nose, mouth, the usual,” she responded, trying to laugh.

“What else?”

She blinked. “Your eyes are really nice. I love that color of brown with little flecks of green. I like… being able to look at you as long as I want without needing to look away.” Her voice dropped. “Without it being judged.”

“You have nice eyes, too.” His voice lowered. “Gorgeous. Where did you get that,” he reached up to trace a tiny scar at the side of her cheek, “mark?”

She touched it, too. “Bike accident when I was seven. I was okay, just fell hard onto the pavement and got a gouge there. Probably should have got stitches, never did.”

“Hmmm.”

They were silent, just looking. It was so strangely intimate. She took a deep breath, then another. “I think it’s slowing down.”

“Good.” He smiled. “Want to hear something else interesting I read in that article about love?”

“What?”

“It said that sometimes scientists can get complete strangers to fall in love by having them stare at each other for four minutes after asking each other increasingly personal questions.”

“Must have been that extra minute. Who knew sixty seconds could be so powerful?”

He laughed. “Well, they didn’t always fall in love. But at least they sparked some kind of connection.”

“I bet only if the people were sexy to start, though,” said Harper. “Sexy people fall in love all the time. Snap, snap, snap. Oh! You’re cute. I love you! Let’s fuck!”

“Well, the point was—”

“That some kind of intimate connection can be forged from prolonged eye contact. I get that.”

“So, are you feeling like you understand my soul now?” His voice was joking, but his eyes looked serious.

“Maybe,” she said, moving her hands on his chest, then putting them back to the original spot. “Are you seeing mine?”

He smiled. “Yes. Yours is green with blue spots.”

“Shut up!” She laughed and hit him. “You’re so extra.”

“Look, if you’re insulting me, you must be feeling better.”

“Just a little. So what kinds of questions did they ask, in those four minutes?”

“In the four minutes, nothing. That was just looking. The questions were first. Thirty-six of them. And I think they were things like, what’s your relationship with your mother, what one thing would you ask a fortune teller, for what in your life do you feel most grateful. One was, do you have a secret hunch about how you’re going to die?”

“Aggghhh! Stop!” Harper squeezed her eyes shut in alarm. “Zach, no! That’s horrible right now.”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed. “Oh, you looked away. Now our four minutes has to start all over.”

She looked at him again, and this time it wasn’t as awkward. “Only if you tell me what you’d ask the fortune teller. What would you ask?”

He hesitated. “For real?”

“Sure, why not?”

“All right.” He licked his lips. “Well, I’d like to know…” His voice trailed off. “Just one thing only?”

“Yup.”

“Okay. Well, if you can only pick one, it sort of minimizes the whole thing. I don’t think I’d want to know where or when I’m going to die… and it’s not going to be here in this plane,” he added, pressing her hands on his chest. “And I don’t want to ask something like what will be the epitome of my career, because what if it’s not as good as I hope and plan?”

“But maybe—I mean, can you change the future once you know it?” Harper interjected. “Suppose she tells you that she sees you in twenty years flipping burgers at McDonald’s. Would that make you work harder now to avoid that and change your fate?”

“Well, I think the point is that you’re seeing something immutable,” he argued. “But of course it’s filtered through her brain and understanding. So maybe I’m, you know, president of the entire galaxy at that point, but I’m doing a special photo op that one day flipping burgers for fun, and she happened to see that one little snippet. Context.”

Harper laughed. “Of course you’d want to be something powerful.”

He shook his head. “I just said that because it was funny. I don’t want that much power. But I do want to keep building Travel On, make sure it’s around and strong and useful. But what’s the fun in knowing how it’s all going to end up?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harper mused. “I read a book one time where you know the murdered person right at the start of the book, and you know the murderers, too. The mystery was in the how and the why, and in what happened next.”

“Well, I hope my life turns out to be a little more interesting than an Agatha Christie book,” he countered. “What would you ask the fortune teller?”

“Well…” Harper paused. “You know what? Nothing. Now that I think about it, you’re right. If you can’t change it, why know it? That’s sort of depressing. I’d only want to see it if I could adjust along the way. Like, what if I asked about whether or not I was going to die in a year, and the answer was that I am for sure? I mean, you could argue that I could live each moment to the fullest, knowing my fate. But I think it would paralyze me. Each minute ticking past, one more lost chance to do something awesome and worthy. I think it would be awful to know.”

“Much better to ask about stocks or investments. Give yourself a financial edge.”

“But only one question. Could one question about, say, Apple stock, give you that much advantage?” She tilted her head.

“Probably not. So we agree. Fuck the fortune teller.” He gave her a satisfied grin. “Look at how much we have in common.”

She laughed. His eyes were no longer soul windows, they were reduced to anatomical parts. The iris, the lashes, the flecks of color. She’d never known so much about a human eye, never before tracked the myriad muscles that helped it blink and swivel. Then she blinked, too, and saw him as a man again, not an assemblage of parts, and that was good, too.

“So what’s another question on that list?”

He smirked. “What’s your secret desire?”

“My secret—ahahahaha!” She cried out as wind buffeted the plane.

“Harper, it’s okay. It’s just regular turbulence. We’re coming in for a smooth clean landing. It’s all right.” His voice was urgent. “Your passion. Come on, look at me, look at me. Tell me what you want… say, in bed. What’s your secret desire. Just say it.”

“You just want to know all my dark secrets.”

“Maybe I do. But talking about something really dark and dirty might distract you. And then I’ll tell you mine.” He quirked a brow. “They’re good, I promise. You’ll like them.” His voice was silky and sexy, a threat and a promise.

The plane lurched again.

She grabbed onto him for life, digging in her nails. “I want to try everything before I die, Zach. I want to try kinky things. I want a hot guy to spank me and fuck me senseless. I want to be teased and tied up and treated like a fucking queen, like in the romance novels I read. I want to be worshipped, like my body is the only one in the goddamn world that he wants. It’s me, all me, just me, the center of his world, and his whole goal is to bring me pleasure with his entire body.” She squeezed tight. “God, I don’t want to crash. I don’t want to crash.”

“We’re not going to crash. We’re going to land, and you’re going to be fine, and you’re going to get every last fucking thing on your list. Do you hear me?” His voice was rough and urgent. “No flaps is serious, but it’s not fatal. The plane will be fine. We’ll be fine. I promise you.”

“It’s not your promise to make,” she whispered, shoving her head back into his arm. “You have absolutely zero control over this.”

He touched her chin. “Okay, well, then. I do have control over what we do now. Enjoy every moment, right?” He leaned in. “Kiss me, Harper. Kiss me right now. Kiss me like it’s the only kiss in the world you’ve ever wanted or had. Forget about everything else but this. But me.”

She glanced out the window and saw flashing lights, and squeezed her eyes shut and launched herself at his mouth. He took her fiercely, kissing with skin and desperation, their hands grappling as their teeth clashed and their lips fought. She grabbed his hair and pulled hard; he growled and tugged her into him harder.

Chapter 7

The touchdown was smooth, maybe the smoothest she’d ever been on. The speed was unreal. She broke away and stared out the window past his face, the lights streaming by, the plane not slowing at all, it seemed, and yet they were down. As they approached the end of the runway she buried her face in his neck, waiting for an impact. None came. The plane stopped.

Silence, then a smattering of applause, then more. Catcalls and cheers. And now the plane was moving regularly through the airport, taxiing like any other old plane, indistinguishable from the masses of airplanes. The bings and lights, like normal. The view from the windows, a regular airport.

“Ladies and gentleman, on behalf our entire flight crew, we’d like to welcome you to Phoenix. We apologize for the unplanned stop, and agents will be ready at the kiosk to help you rebook onto the very next flight to L.A. We appreciate your patience and thank you for flying with us.”

More announcements, which she tuned out. Some kids a few rows back were already laughing and complaining. People were on cell phones, and she noticed the way the situation expanded in the retelling, pushing at the very extreme limits of itself, turning it into something grander and far more fatal than it had been.

She wanted to poke Zach and make fun of the guy who was telling his friend that “people were flying around the cabin!” when it had been one cup of soda. And the woman saying, “I’m completely serious. At least fifty emergency vehicles, Marge, I am telling you,” when it was had been what, maybe three? But she was too shaky, and it still wasn’t, not quite, funny. Not yet.

She didn’t know why the panic had surged to a tsunami in her while leaving the other passengers, outwardly at least, with only lapping waves. Logically, she understood that they had not been in serious danger. But her brain had sent a different message to her nerves and muscles.

The lights were yellow and beautiful, and the ding of the PA sound was bells, Notre Dame bells, silvery fairy bells, bells made of gold inlaid with gems. The flight attendant’s messy black bun and kohl eyes were a masterpiece second not even to the Mona Lisa, not to Mt. Everest. The feel of the smooth leather of the seat under her hand (she was standing now?) was delightful, every nerve ending enjoying it, the touch better than silk. She was gloriously, imperviously alive.

In the airport, she spent a while in the bathroom while Zach was busy on his phone. She wandered into a magazine shop and touched glossy covers, watching the other people laugh and frown and fuss—nobody knew what she’d just been through, what she was feeling now. Nobody else in this whole place knew about it! It was crazy and disconcerting, and then a headline caught her eye, and she noticed that she was hungry, and she wondered if she should buy breath mints… and already the mundane details of life had seeped back into her consciousness. She was a napkin blotting up the minutiae of life, just like always. Already the floor wasn’t as gloriously shiny as it was when she first saw it, and the traveler who elbowed her wasn’t a beautiful fellow creature but an asshole.

“Asshole,” she whispered under her breath, not so he could hear it!—but so she could. “Asshole.” She glanced as he walked off at a clipped pace until he disappeared into the throng, feeling the word on her tongue. This, too, was already familiar again. Life welcomed her back in and closed over her head, sealing her under its depths, a fish released back into the sea.

But in the taxi, she kept touching Zach’s hand, grabbing it, touching the seats of the car with her other hand, closed her eyes halfway and watched the lights of the city stream by, yellow neon swirls and strands that caught in her retinas and pulled out into taffy stretches when she drifted her neck.

He was quiet, letting her rest in his arms, one hand playing with her hair, stroking her shoulder, and it didn’t feel odd at all. She was at home in his arms, like she’d been in his eyes, and she needed to keep touching him as if to verify: We landed. We’re okay. We’re okay. We’re okay.

“This is different.” Harper glanced around the lobby, from the gleaming wooden floors, varnished to a high gloss, to the antlered animal head mounted over a vast fireplace. Pictures of cacti decorated the walls, and a metal sculpture of a saguaro towered near a fountain tiled with Mexican-style glazed squares.

“Bienvenidos a Las Posadas!” The desk clerk had a red rose in her shiny black hair, a real rose. Her off-shoulder dress revealed a hint of beautiful brown skin. “You’ll get Casitas eleven and twelve, with an adjoining door. There’s a complimentary breakfast starting at six a.m. The omelets are excellent and we have an award-winning salsa bar.” Her smile was brilliant and she handed over two white keycards in matte envelopes. “Don’t hesitate to call the front desk if you need anything.” Her smile brightened when she looked at Zach, and she adjusted her rose, the gesture sweet and feminine. “Do you need anything right now, anything I can do to help?”

“No, thanks.” Zach gave her his million-watt smile and the clerk practically simpered. Harper held back a scoff. God, all he had to do was exist, and he had them melting and shedding their panties. Ugh.

“Well, I’m Marielle, and if you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call the desk and ask.” Polite, as behooved an employee of such an upscale resort, Marielle included both Zach and Harper in her smile-contact and glance, but as before, her eyes lingered on Zach just a second longer.

“Thank you.” Harper was so tired she felt dizzy. The remaining anxiety had settled in her skull, behind her eyeballs, making the room expand and contract as if heat waves rose from it. She grabbed for the handle of her suitcase.

“I got it.” Zach took it. “This way.” He led her through an ornate wooden double door into a quaint garden.

Harper found the lush surroundings odd. “Why do they have a manmade stream here in the desert? Where does the water come from?”

“The Colorado River. Phoenix has never wanted for water.” His tone was wry. “Yet. So they’re not very conservation-minded, at least not in the general public.”

In reply, she yawned. “I feel like I’m going to fall over.”

“You okay?” He sounded concerned.

“Being on solid ground, yes. I’m just so tired now. Thank you for getting us a hotel. For not making me get on a plane.”

“I could never make you do anything, Harper. And I wouldn’t leave you alone while you’re upset like this.” He sounded serious. “The only question is whether you want me to take you to an urgent care.”

She shook her head, sort of horrified. “Zach, no! That’s not even close. Yes, I freaked out, but I’m totally fine now that we’re okay.”

“But if you need your medication? You said you forgot it?”

She shook her head. “The only thing I need now is rest.” She could call her doctor and have him send a scrip to the local Walgreens before the flight back.

“This is us.” He pointed to a pretty little casita. “Two apartments. You can relax now, okay?” He slipped the keycard into the lock. “Which one do you want?”

“This one because it’s closer and first.” She tried to laugh. “I’m about to collapse.”

She stepped in as Zach flipped on the light. “Oh, wow. This is just… wow.”

Bathed in a low golden glow from the lamp, the room shone like a cave of gems. The bed, tall and ornate with tall wooden posts, was draped with gauzy fabrics and topped with a dozen colorful pillows. Large oil paintings on the wall, reminiscent of Diego Rivera, gave a decided Southwestern feel, as did the architecture of the room, with New Mexico beams and softer Mexican archways combined into a coherent design.

“This is so pretty.” She dropped her purse on a comfortable-looking loveseat in a red and gold brocade and walked to a window dressed in the same gauzy fabric as the bed. “Is that the pool out there?”

He stood beside her. “Looks like it.” He rested one hand on her shoulder. “Over there you should have a little kitchen and living space, and the bathroom. And I’ll be through there.”

He pointed at a wooden door set in the wall. “If you need me, you can just knock.” He smiled, and her stomach shifted with sudden arousal. Despite everything—the conversations, the rough landing, or maybe because of it—she wanted him more than ever. Even knowing he was an inveterate bachelor, committed to staying commitment-free, she’d learned enough about him in the past few hours to really… like him. Even if she shouldn’t.

“I’ll be fine.”

She wandered into the little kitchenette, opened the fridge. “Zach! Look. There’s even a bottle of wine in here, and lots of waters. And on the counter, a basket of snacks.”

“This is a luxury resort,” he said. He stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets. Behind him, the yellow light at the doorstop lit up the open door like a halo. She could see a—was that a fat moth? Fluttering around.

He turned. “Better close that before bugs get in.” He jogged over and shut the door, but stood beside it. She came up.

“Bugs?”

“Ah, you know. The usual desert wildlife.”

“I don’t actually know, though. So… like, what are we talking?”

“Well, we’re by the foothills, and this place uses natural pest control. So you’re going to get your desert roaches, your scorpions, your spiders, your—”

“Ugh. I know they lived here, of course, but I didn’t expect them to be, you know, in my room.”

“You don’t need to worry, Harper. They take good care of the property, so if you see one, don’t squash it with your bare hand or foot. Use something solid, like a shoe or rock.”

“With my bare hand? Ha, you’re funny. And what exactly is a desert cockroach? How is it different from a, you know, regular one?” She wrinkled her nose.

“Well, it’s not a desert cockroach, per se. They live in the desert. They’re… large. They fly. Like the ones in Florida.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s not cool, Zach.”

“Well, you probably won’t get too many of those in here, anyway. And about the rattlesnakes, just if you go hiking early in the morning, stay on the path and keep your eyes open. Make noise, rattle gravel, toss a rock ahead on the path now and then, so they can hear you coming and slither away. They don’t want a confrontation any more than you do.”

“You are just a fountain of knowledge, Zach.” She rolled her eyes. “And a wonderful boss, to have found us a resort near the most poisonous creatures in the US.” She paused. “I have sort of always wanted to see a rattlesnake in person, though. And if I see real live scorpions, I probably get bragging rights for life, yes?”

Zach chuckled. “Absolutely. I bet they’d put your name up on some digital billboard in Times Square. Hey, it’s late. I’m going to give you privacy. Let’s meet up for breakfast tomorrow and discuss our game plan. Eight a.m. work for you?”

“Sure.”

“Great. I’m sorry about all of this. The rest of our trip will be better, I’m sure of it.”

He touched her arm, leaned in for a second like he was going to kiss her cheek, then straightened up. “Good night.”

Chapter 8

Exhausted to the point of mania, still she couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the seatback in front of her, and the flash of lights on the wing. Then her hands hurt and she found they were clenched tight, as if gripping the wide plastic seat rests, scrabbling with her fingernails. Her toes were clenched, too, as she remembered pressing her soles to the floor, as if by pushing down she could safely bring the plane down, or maybe as if by pulling up on the armrests she could keep the thing aloft. Feeling the dull, even throbbing beneath her skin, murmuring and humming into her body, every nerve expectant, waiting for the plane to fall, to plummet.

“Fuck.” She was sweating. “Fuck this.”

She tossed off the covers and got up, flicked on the lamp. Taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart, she grabbed a cold bottle from the fridge. The cheap plastic rippled and crinkled under her hands and water spurted out of the lid as she twisted it off, spilling down her chest. The cold shock felt good on her stomach.

She drank deeply and drained the bottle, then recapped it, enjoying the feel of the slippery thin vessel, and crushed it sharply, biting her lip as the sounds built to a crescendo of static. When she dropped the thing to the counter, it sat there and started to expand in places, making small pops and dinks as the plastic unformed.

She sat on the chair, tugging her feet under her. Unfamiliar room, strange fabric on her feet: It was lonely instead of exciting. She hugged herself, and a tear rolled down her eye. She opened the bottle of wine and drank a glass, then another. When the panic didn’t abate, she stood up.

A minute later, she was up and knocking on the connecting door. “Zach?”

He was there in a second. “Harper?”

She breathed a sigh of relief to see his face. “I’m okay.” She swallowed and gestured to her room. “I don’t want to be alone.”

He was wearing nothing but boxers, and his lean torso and muscular legs looked good. His eyes travelled down her body, and she flushed. The sheer nightgown wasn’t overtly sexy, but neither was it meant for platonic company; thin and breezy, it outlined her breasts and hips.

His voice was hoarse with the night. “You want company?” He quirked an eyebrow, looking around, his eyes lighting on the wine bottle and empty glass.

“Can you come in for a while?” She wrapped her arms around herself. “I keep thinking about the plane and starting to panic. I don’t know if I even want to go on to Hawaii. I might need to rent a car to even get back to Chicago. I’m really not even joking. I hate this.”

“Hey, don’t talk that way.” His voice was deep and reassuring. He put a hand on her shoulder and the warmth felt good. “We had a rough landing, but it was safe. If anything, you lived the odds. From now on, every flight you’re on is a guaranteed safe one, statistically speaking.”

He grinned, but it faded when she didn’t smile back. “Come here.” He tugged her into his arms.

She went willingly, pressing her cheek to his strong chest, inhaling his scent. He smelled faintly of soap, the fabric of the hotel, and his own essence, all man. Good.

“Will you just sit with me? We can listen to music, or the TV, or something. I don’t want to focus on a show; I just need to be distracted. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” He took her hand and led her to the couch. “Here.” He held up a Mexican printed fleece blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Come on, relax for a minute.”

He sat down and helped arrange the blanket. “Okay?”

She nodded, leaned her head back. “Thank you.”

He leaned back, too, and put his arms up, stretched out his legs. “You mind if I’m like this? Should I put something on?” He laughed. “Never mind, I’ll wear the other blanket. Make myself decent.” He wrapped a second fleece around his middle and waist.

She sighed. She liked the sight of his bare chest and legs, but it made sense that he should cover up, too. Inappropriate, probably. The wine made her head floaty so she closed her eyes. “Can we talk some more? I like talking to you.” The words sounded like they were coming from far away.

“Of course.” From his side of the couch, he lifted her foot into his lap. “Relax. Want me to massage you?”

“Okay.” It wasn’t professional, but neither was that kiss, and she wasn’t sorry. It had kept her sane, given her something to grab onto, in a moment when she was desperate.

“So, what’s our new topic?” He rubbed her toes and she groaned in pleasure.

“God, that feels so good. You’re lucky I showered, though. My toes were pretty sweaty before.”

“Maybe I’m a foot guy. Maybe the sweatier, the better.” He tickled her sole.

“Eeeew!” She giggled. “You’re not, though. Right?”

He stroked over her instep. “Not a fetish, no. Just wanted to make you laugh.”

She pushed her heel into his hard thigh. “I see. Hey, those foot fetish guys. If a girl has more than the usual amount of toes, does that make her even hotter?”

“It’s not my area of expertise,” he responded. “But a fascinating question. Perhaps you can Google it tomorrow. Not, of course, when you’re doing work for me.” He squeezed each toe in turn. It felt heavenly.

“Of course not. It just crossed my mind, you know.”

“I’m sure it did. So what’s our topic?”

“I don’t know. Anything, I guess. What do you want to talk about?”

He paused. “Tell me why you’re scared. What’s in your head?”

“No! Anything but that,” she protested, stiffening under his hands. “I want to forget about that.”

“Sometimes,” he responded, “the only way past something is right through. Talk about it and make it go away.”

“I don’t know if it works that way.” But she licked her lips. “Well, what the hell. So I thought we were going to crash. I was terrified. I kept thinking of all the things I never got to do. The things I did wrong. The way my life isn’t complete yet. That it wasn’t fair.”

“Yeah?” His voice was low. “What else?”

“That I was scared to die.” Her voice caught. “Because I hadn’t finished living yet. I never skydived. Or petted a llama. Had a crazy affair on a tropical island. So many things.”

“But you’re here. You made it through. You can do all those things, and more.” His voice was low, his hands sure.

“I know. My brain knows it, anyway. My stomach and my heart aren’t caught up, though. I feel all sick and fluttery.”

“I understand.” His voice was soft. “I was pretty confident the pilot would pull it off. But when I saw that runway coming up so fast, it was—” He shook his head. “Pretty surreal. My heart sped up a little, I admit it.”

“But you weren’t terrified.”

“No.”

“I hate being weak like that.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of weakness. It’s a fundamental, visceral response and it’s really not uncommon. You shouldn’t feel bad about yourself.” He squeezed her feet. “Sometimes, anyway, don’t they say it’s the most intelligent people who have flying phobias?”

“Did you just make that up to make me feel better?”

He laughed. “I’ll never say.”

“Well, then, the answer is yes. Yes, it’s true. It’s my incredible I.Q. It takes up so much space in my brain, that the part responsible for fear control got a little squeezed. That, and my fantastic artistic lobe, which is responsible for my photography.”

He pressed on her heel, and she made a sigh of contentment. “Question. Let’s say you could keep your Einstein-like mad skills and your photography, but still be afraid of flying. Or, you could give up a little bit of your talent. Say, five percent, and be totally cured of the fear. What would you pick?”

“Your questions suck!” She pushed her foot into his leg again, savoring the feel of his toned muscles. “Would I at least still know how to spell Galapagos?”

He laughed. “No, spelling goes away with the five percent. Seriously. What would you pick?”

“Well, I’d keep myself the way I am, and just work on getting over the fear. No way am I giving up even one percent of what makes me, me.”

“So there you have it. Nothing weak about that.” His voice was serious and solemn, and when she looked at him, the emotion in her face made her catch her breath.

“Thank you.” She smiled. “Really.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled back, and butterflies surged in her stomach, this time not from fear, but from arousal.

“Your kiss.” She picked at the soft lint of the blanket. “You saved me.”

He smiled, a brief flash. “The pilot saved you. They train for that, and the runways are built long enough to account for a flapless landing. Technology saved you.”

“Well, yes. In the long run. In the minute, it was you. Thanks.” She felt her cheeks flush.

“You’re welcome.” He wasn’t laughing. When she looked up, his fingers stilled on her feet and his eyes met hers. “Any time.”

She blinked, and he looked away.

“Any time?” she asked.

“Well.” He shifted. “Harper, I—if you need help, you can come to me, okay?”

“What if I wanted a kiss right now?”

He sat forward. “I’m not sure…”

“Come on, you’re the master of the one-night feel better. What if I wanted a kiss right now?”

He looked uncomfortable. “Is that really what you want?”

Zach was nearly naked, and she wanted him more than ever. She was filled with a powerful urge to grab him right now while she was savoring the fact that she was alive.

She stood up and let the blanket go behind her. The thin straps of her gown fell from her shoulders. She approached him, and before he could react, she climbed up and straddled him, one leg on each side of his lap. “Just one kiss.” She put both hands onto the sides of his face. “It’s not like we haven’t kissed before.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw, and then she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. Instantly, his arms went around her and he pulled her closer, tugging her hips to mate her against his body. The kiss deepened and he ran his hands over her back, resting on the curve of her ass, pulling her closer. His touch was hot and his mouth amazing, and she melted into him, stroking his shoulders and arms, reaching down to trail her fingers across his rippled abs.

God, his lips were so good! At that moment, she craved him more than she’d ever craved a man. Something about the way he smelled and felt and touched her, the sounds he made, everything was so perfect. And while she was kissing him, the chaos in her head shut down entirely, everything quiet, just sparks of gold and copper shooting behind her eyelids. She felt him harden beneath her, and wiggled, enjoying his groan of appreciation.

“You like this?” she whispered, knowing full well he did. He flipped up her nightgown and ran his hand across her skin, then ducked his fingers under the fabric of her panties to cup her ass cheek.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I like this a fucking lot.” He traced the top of her ass cleft with one finger, then moved his hand under her body to press between her thighs. “This, too. God, you feel good.”

She pushed into his palm, making little noises into his mouth, grabbing his head to kiss deeper. “Touch me,” she whispered, shifting her thighs, as if to show him how open she was, after all.

He reached a finger under the gusset of her panties. “Here?”

“Mmm,” she breathed.

He darted his finger into her body and she cried out at the exquisite pleasure of his touch. But to her dismay, he stopped, and pulled back from her kiss. “Harper.”

“Mmm. Don’t stop.”

“Harper, I’m—fuck.” He ran a hand over his face. “Look I want this more than anything. But here’s the thing. You’re still keyed up from our landing, you’ve been drinking, and you’ve said in the past that you… don’t do the one-night stand thing.” He swallowed hard. “And as much as I want nothing more than to throw you down on that bed and…” He looked away. “I don’t want to do something that you’ll regret tomorrow. That we’ll both regret tomorrow.”

She stiffened up. “Are you saying I’m not sexy enough for you?” Tears rose to her eyes, along with all of the exhaustion of the day. He briefly turned into two Zachs, then merged into one when she blinked.

His voice was low and soft. “I want you so bad it hurts. But you might not really want this. That’s—look. What if I, just, you know, lie down with you?”

“I’m not a little kid, Zach.” Her voice cracked, and she wiped her eyes.

“No, you’re not,” he said ruefully, adjusting himself with a grimace. “You certainly are not. Just... Don’t make a decision like this when you’re so stressed, is all.”

She buried her face in her hands. “This night just gets worse and worse.”

He touched her shoulder. “Look, come up. Okay?” He tugged, and she got to her feet. He led her to the bed. “Come on, get in. I’ll, ah, hold you. It’ll be nice. You’ll see.”

“Nice?” she scoffed. “Since when do you just hold a woman in the bed?”

“You get to be my first. Think of it like a huge accomplishment.” He smirked.

“Are you going to knit me a comfy scarf too, and maybe a cute little embroidered purse to hold your balls?” She held her hands up, gesturing to show a little compartment.

He laughed. “Oh, you’re pretty funny. But, no. If I knit something to hold my monstrous balls, it better be suitcase size.”

“You’re horrible.” But she laughed and rolled her eyes, mollified.

The bed looked appealing, suddenly, and not lonely, like it had before. The entire room was friendly now, suffused with his scent, his presence. “Okay. Maybe just for a little bit, Mr. Snugglebug.” She laid her head on the pillow.

He pulled up the blanket, after getting in beside her. “If you have a nightmare, or need to talk, you wake me.”

“Mmmkay.” She closed her eyes. “Fine.”

She rolled onto her side and he pulled her into his body, the embrace comforting. She was still turned on, and she could feel that he was, too; the joking had done nothing to diminish their desire. She intended to reach over and kiss him, touch him, run a hand down to rest on his hard cock and tease him until he grabbed her and made rough, passionate love to her. But sleep took over and she drifted into dreams, solid good sleep, no nightmares.

Chapter 9

She awoke with a start, her mouth dry and fuzzy. She rubbed her eyes, taking in the unfamiliar bedding and walls. Memory flooded in, and she reached over, but the bed was empty. Disappointed for a second, she sat up and looked around, wondering if she’d dreamed last night, but the dented pillow and two throw blankets tossed on the couch were proof.

She sat up and put her feet to the floor, experimentally testing out her anxiety levels, her heartbeat, her brain. Calm. She was okay again. Maybe not enthused about the bad landing, but no longer petrified, she stood up and smiled.

“I’m back, baby!” she called out, stretching. The relief at having the awful anxiety all drained away made her feel exuberant for a second, like life was hers again for real, and she almost wanted to hug everything in the room, it was so beautiful: The gauzy fabric on the bed, the empty wineglass, gleaming in the light, the throw pillow with the ragged colorful stripes. Everything was lovely and real and vibrant.

She had all the time in the world, now. She could move to Mexico and learn how that fabric was made, if she chose. She could visit a winery, tour a winery, work in a winery. Thoughts of light-spangled shadows and heavy berries filled her mind for a split second before sharing stage with dark-skinned men in exotic outfits. The urge to get dressed and run outside, to enjoy this new place, overwhelmed her.

But—Zach. She touched her face, embarrassed at having thrown herself at him last night. Did he think she was ridiculous? It was probably good he’d turned her down; she was so tired and nonfunctional that she probably wouldn’t have even enjoyed it properly. But then, remembering his sexy kiss… No, she would have enjoyed it.

She sighed. He was right, though, about the one-night thing. She wasn’t into that, as a rule. Although last night she would have broken any and all rules to bring comfort to her splintered mind. She looked back at the pillow, where his head had rested. He was kind of sweet, in a way, to comfort her that way without taking her sexually. It made him—in an ironic way—even sexier to her.

Well, since they had to work together, it was better they hadn’t. Surely it would be at least somewhat awkward to navigate the transition from night-fuck to day-peers, right?

She could hear the sound of a shower from next door and the thought of his naked body in the spray made her heart beat faster. Both doors were open slightly, and she didn’t want to close them. She liked the closeness they’d fostered.

After her shower, she tied up her hair into a casual bun and slipped on jeans and a cami top, then knocked tentatively. “Zach? You awake?” She knew he was, and could smell coffee now, too.

He appeared at the door. “I used the Keurig,” he announced. “Want me to brew you a cup?” His worn jeans and white button-down shirt fit him perfectly and she tried not to stare.

“I should use my own. Take advantage of my beautiful room,” she said, and opened the drapes. “God, look how pretty!”

The pool sparkled below her, a vast expanse of blue diamonds and tile. Palm trees and potted plants at different levels decorated the surrounding space, lush with mini mezzanines full of colorful blooms and bright sculptures. Blue deck chairs, pristine, stretched out in an unblemished row, and the mountains in the distance rose purple and pink through the rising sun.

“So, change of plans.” Zach’s voice was brisk, businesslike. “You up for adventure?”

“Um, yes?”

“Is that a question?” He grinned at her and came to join her at the window. Standing shoulder to shoulder with him, she felt the heat from his arm and it sent tickly tingles up into her neck.

“I had a pretty big adventure yesterday. Right now, I think calm and even is my preferred plan. Like, getting safely to Hawaii and enjoying about fifty-seven Mai Tais on a beach and forgetting all my troubles. I’m ready. I can do this.” She took a deep breath. “I thought about what you said, about how I lived the odds and from now on, all of my flights will be safe. Are we going to fly out today?”

“No.” He crossed his arms.

She raised an eyebrow. “But Leilani Oh is expecting us. Won’t a delay be a problem?”

“So.” He cleared his throat. “When we had that bad landing yesterday, and you were so upset, said you’d never fly again. I called Josh and asked him to take a red-eye to get there overnight to meet Leilani today. He took Dan with him. They’re already there, working with her to get the project completed.”

“Salami Dan?” Her voice rose with surprise. “Zach, I don’t understand. That was my job. I signed a contract! You just gave it away to Dan?” She scowled.

“No. Not exactly.”

“But—” She felt lost. “Zach, I’m okay today. I mean, yes, I couldn’t have flown last night. I was honestly pretty fucked up, I admit that. But come one, one night and you already reassign? I just… I.” She took a deep breath. “I guess I’m disappointed, is what I’m trying to say. What about the contract?”

It wasn’t the money, not exactly. Well, it was partially the money; she needed to work to get paid, obviously. But it was more than that. This was something she’d looked forward to.

“I’m sorry, Harper. I really needed to move quickly. Honestly, you were pretty upset last night and I wasn’t entirely sure that even today, you’d be ready to fly again.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I made the judgement call to send a backup team. It’s nothing against you or your work. I’d probably prefer your photography, although Dan will do a good job, too.”

“So... I mean, what now? I just go home?” A sour taste filled her mouth.

“Hear me out, okay?” He touched her arm, released it at her frown. “This resort that we’re staying in? I picked it for a reason, Harper. I’ve been involved with the owner in contract negotiations to be featured on our site, and he’s ready to sign up. Same salary, same time frame—about a week. Except instead of Hawaii, we’ll be working here. In the Arizona desert. What do you say?”

She looked back out at the pool, trying to imagine how the water would feel on her body. “Zach, I…” She shook her head. “Yes, I suppose. Yes.” She tried to sound enthusiastic.

His tone brightened. “See, it’s a great opportunity. Lots of photo ops here. I know it’s not the same as beaches and waterfalls, but that chance will come again for you, I’m sure, in time. Right now you can enjoy the cacti and coyotes.”

She crossed her arms. “So, yes, obviously, if we can’t go to Hawaii, sure, I can stay here and take pictures… here.” She wrinkled her nose.

“Try to sound like you actually want to,” he said, but his voice was teasing.

“So, okay.” She recalibrated. The Mai Tais popped like sad soap bubbles with frowny faces in her mind. She tried to imagine a coyote with yellow teeth. “I do want to. It’s just different. So if we’re not doing Hotter in Hawaii, what do we call this one?” She contemplated the question for a minute, then answered herself. “Ass-Sweaty Hot in Arizona?”

He rolled his eyes.

“No? Farting in Phoenix? Dying in the Desert?”

“Nice, Harper.” He gave her a look. “Very professional.”

“Right? I do try.” She gave him a breezy grin. “Keeping it classy, that’s my motto.”

“Today I’m going to finalize the details and get the contract signed,” Zach continued. “I’d like you to start scoping out the grounds and taking landscape pictures, different times of day. We’ll meet with the owner later to talk about mood and feel for the photos, but I already know that we want to show a tropical paradise right here in the desert.”

“Oh, it’s tropical paradise you want? Why am I not thinking of tumbleweeds and sand? Hmm.” She put a finger to her chin.

He ignored this. “You’re not in Hawaii, and you know that, but you’re somewhere beautiful. Combine just enough arid desert with a lot of tropical oasis, and that’s the image we’re selling. Southwest as fuck, but in a classy, upscale way. We’re going for upscale Native American art, and funky, eclectic Southwest sculptures, pretty cacti, palm trees, and water. Lots of water. The pool, the stream. Sexy people enjoying themselves. Upscale Mexican-derived cuisine. I’m talking five-star gourmet award-winning restaurant photos.”

She nodded, already getting ideas as she looked out the window. “I can do that.”

“After we do the contract, I’ll contact local talent agencies to hire some local models for our sexy vacationer photos. You can help me select them.” He grinned. “It’s fun. Like picking out presents from a catalogue.”

She giggled. “Zach! That’s so bad.” But she couldn’t resist. “More like ordering pizza toppings. I’ll take one thin crust with two hot blondes.”

“Shh!” He acted so concerned that she wrinkled her brow, but burst out laughing when he whispered, “Pizza Gate is real, Harper. I thought you knew. Take this seriously.”

She thought. “Seriously? Forget the blondes. I think I’d love to see couples photos with, say, a sexy mixed-race Asian girl, and a funky, cool guy who looks sort of black and sort of white with a cool ‘fro and perfect six-pack.”

He raised one eyebrow. “Actually, we are trying to showcase that Phoenix is multicultural. There’s been bad press after the election, but the millennial crowd here is increasingly woke and diverse. You read my mind about one set of actors, anyway.”

She nodded. “Good! I’m sick of seeing all white faces in travel ads. It’s annoying and fake.”

“Agreed.”

“Pictures of the grounds, of course,” Jeremy explained. “Make it look luxurious. Comfortable and exotic. An oasis in the desert, with just enough desert in the oasis to let everyone know we’re in Arizona. But they can relax like they’re in the tropics. Got it?” He brushed back his dark brown hair from his forehead. Harper thought he looked like a sexy model, with his bedroom eyes, all dark lashes, and his sensual lips. His tan skin bore the trace of Mexico, as did his accent.

Harper nodded. “Comfortable and exotic. Got it. Tropical desert.”

The manager nodded, eyes gleaming. “Yes! Tropical desert.”

Harper tilted her head. “I’m thinking I want sexy bodies tanning by the pool. Long legs and drinks with water droplets sparkling on them. A cactus backlit by the sun—that cactus there,” she pointed, “with the stream bubbling behind it, and a sun shaft lighting it up. A couple holding hands, a really sexy couple, but classy, too, walking down that path with all the flowers, and the mountains visible behind them.”

“Perfect! I love it. Great job.” Jeremy nodded.

Harper smiled. It was funny how often people said ‘great job’ before the job had even started, just excited that she got their vision. They hadn’t even seen the photos yet. In fact, she got this on most jobs she did, people congratulating her before she even took one shot. On the positive side, she always took that as their confidence in her, based on her portfolio and ability to understand their needs.

“So, models?” she said, glancing at Zach.

Zach picked up his phone. “My local talent scout said she’ll hook me up with local agencies. I can have some models out here to work this afternoon. Harper, what time is the light good?” He paused, finger ready.

“I’d prefer seven p.m. for the people. But I’ll start with grounds shots now.” She smiled. “And food, I’ll use my tripods and backdrop, so around dinnertime.”

“Got it.” Jeremy slapped his hands together, a single clap. “I can’t wait to see what you do. I mean, no disrespect to our previous photographer. Our professional pictures are great. But I need the updated ones, you know?”

She nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

Jeremy’s phone rang and he nodded to them with an apologetic look. “It’s my wife. Please excuse me.” He pushed a button, and the smile that broke out onto his face was nearly blinding; he launched into rapid Spanish as he walked away for a few minutes of privacy.

“Zach. Here’s my list of Phoenix activities. Listen.” She poked him, then read from her notebook. “Mexican food at Barrio Café in downtown Phoenix. Chef Silvana has won worldwide recognition for her food.”

“Sounds good.” Zach looked up from his phone.

“Phoenix Museum of Art and see the Fireflies exhibit. After that, tour the graffiti art walls in Roosevelt Row, and of course I’ll take pictures.”

She paused. “Other things are renting a paddle boat on Tempe Town Lake, hiking up Camelback Mountain, and doing a desert tour.”

“I’m sure you’ll have fun.” He turned back to his phone.

“You mean, we will have fun.”

He set the phone down. “Harper, much as I enjoy your company, I didn’t mean that we needed to do every single thing together. I trust your judgement about these places, and which ones to pick for the pictures for the ad campaign. I have to meet with investors.”

“Not all day, you don’t.” Harper narrowed her eyes. “Look. I’m getting into the spirit of this. I don’t get to enjoy snorkeling in crystal clear water to see exotic tropical fish, so I’m making the best of things. You owe me.”

“Do I?” He raised an eyebrow.

She flushed. “Yes. You do.”

“That sounds like a very full day, especially considering it’s already,” he glanced at his watch, “ten a.m.”

“It’s not all for today. Today, I actually found this crazy little store devoted to llamas. It’s listed on one of the Top Off-Beat Things To Do in Phoenix. I think, mixed with the culture and high art, it will be a perfect, funky addition. You need to come with me.”

He inclined his head. “Not sure I can.”

“We’re focusing on what makes Phoenix trendy and on-point and diverse. Like you asked! A few cacti, some great desert shots, but lots of eclectic art and food, things that make it seem like a place that you want to visit because it’s awesome and welcoming. But also, some weird things that are just, you know, irresistibly cool.”

“So llamas were on your list from last night, the things you said you worried you’d never get to do.” His eyes bored into her. “Am I also going to do skydiving on the list? And the tropical fling?”

“Well, since we’re not actually on a tropical island, I can’t have a crazy fling.” She made a face at him. “And skydiving involves voluntarily leaving airplanes, which I do when they’re on the ground, but not in midair.”

“One out of three. I suppose that’s a decent start.” His lips looked chiseled and soft at the same time. She flushed, remembering how they felt on her body. She glanced at his hands, and he looked at her looking, and the next time their eyes met, a spark sizzled between them.

She cleared her throat. “You know, your parts of the blog and your personal letter to consumers will be more meaningful if you actually visit these places, too, and love them. That will come out in your words. You’ll be that much more convincing.”

“Fine.” He blew out a breath. “I will come to the llama place with you.”

“And if you behave nicely, I’ll throw in a lesson at the Bondurant racing school.”

His eyes lit up. “What does it mean to behave nicely?” He stepped in and she felt her heart pound.

“In a way that… satisfies me.” She couldn’t look away from his eyes.

“And how might I do that?” His voice was low.

She swallowed. “Um. By… being polite and enjoying the day. Doing what I say.”

“Doing what you say?” A small smile hovered on his lips. “Do tell.”

“Zach!” She reached out to slap his arm, a tease, but ended up touching and grabbing for a second, feeling sparks. “For my itinerary.”

“Your itinerary.” He smirked, then stepped backwards and took a breath. “Fine. You drive.”

Chapter 10

“So, this store is dedicated to llamas?” Harper smiled brightly. Zach was waiting outside the shop, talking to Leilani in Hawaii, and she’d ventured in alone, into the wooden shack-like structure with a huge, ten-foot tall llama painted on the rustic side.

“That’s right.” The woman behind the counter nodded, not looking up from the thick yarn she wound deftly from hand to hand. “Arizona llamas.”

“I didn’t know they were endemic to Arizona.”

“They are not.” The woman was wearing a brightly colored vest that looked like something Harper would envision in an upscale catalogue selling handcrafted things from Nepal and Peru. She was in her sixties, and her eyes were a brilliant blue in a wrinkled face topped with a white cap of hair.

Harper was itchy to photograph her. “I see.”

“They should be, beautiful things.” The woman coughed. “If I had my way, I’d fill the wild plains with them. You’re heard of the Salt River wild horses, right?”

“No.”

“Wild horses. Horses that live in the wild.”

“Well, yes, that makes sense. But here?” She looked around the shop. “In Phoenix?”

“Not here in the city. By the Salt River.” The woman nodded toward the window, although no river was visible through it.

“Can I photograph you for an article I’m writing?” Harper tapped her camera, patted it like a baby. “I’m Harper Grainger, and I’m here visiting from Chicago. I’d love to feature you on the Travel On site.”

“Is the article about llamas?”

“It’s about Phoenix.”

“Some yuppie magazine?” The woman eyed Harper’s camera. “Millennials and all that.”

“It’s for a travel site. I’d like to showcase some of the unique and quirky places around Phoenix.”

“Oh, I’m quirky now,” the woman announced to the stuffed llama beside her. “You hear that?” She glanced at Harper, then put down the yarn in a careful two-loop stack, and stuck out her hand. “My name’s Elle. Van Der Haven.”

“Elle, it’s so nice to meet you. I have a release form and description here. May I show it to you?”

At the woman’s nod, Harper slid a release form across the counter.

Elle scanned it. “You won’t pay me, I suppose.”

“No, but I’ll forward you a copy of the blog post and the website once the article goes up. It might be good for business.”

“I suppose.” Elle stood up, shaking out her hands and adjusting her neck. “I should probably get Harold, then. He’ll want to be in the picture, too.” She put both hands flat onto the wooden counter and suddenly screamed without turning her head. “Harold!”

Harper flinched, hand on her camera, and then turned to studiously examine a throw pillow in gray, with red letters: Como se above a red printed llama.

“Get it?” Elle laughed. “Como se llama means what’s your name in Spanish? So como se, and then the picture of the llama. I designed that myself. Harold loves them, of course. He always wants to sit by the blue one on the couch.”

“Okay. Cool.”

“And this here.” The woman came out from behind the counter. “This pin is a ballama. See? Part banana, part llama. Adorable.”

Harper did like the ballama. “I might get one for my friend,” she said.

“Well, pick out the one with the cutest face,” Elle ordered. “They all have their own personality. I’m just going to get fetch Harold, then, since he’s apparently not going to come on his own.”

A moment later, a chuffing, clumping sound ensued from the back room. “Come on over here,” called Elle. “Harold’s in a bit of a mood. You can take our picture in the hallway.”

Harper bit her lip. “I can do that, it’s just that I, you know, thought it would be nice to get the store behind you two, for ambience.”

No reply, just more clumping sounds, so Harper shrugged and flipped up her flash. “Well, I guess I’ll be right there.” She made her way through the shop to the back wooden door that led to the hallway.

Elle stood there, and beside her was Harold, attached to a woven red and purple leash. Harold was a llama.

“This is Harold.” Elle narrowed her eyes. “He doesn’t much like you. See how he’s stamping his front left foot? That’s how you can tell. It’s obvious. He thinks you’re pretentious and he doesn’t trust that you’re going to write a realistic article.”

Harper cleared her throat. “Aha. I see. Well, please let him know that I have the, ah, greatest respect for what you’ve both done here.” She waved one hand back toward the shop. “Really phenomenal. And his choice of blue for the pillow, I’m really feeling that. Really feeling it. Yup.”

Elle adjusted Harold’s lead in her hand. “He prefers to be photographed from the left. But I suppose this will do.”

Oh, it will do all right. Harper wanted to dance. Jesus motherfucking motherlode of all motherlodes. Nobody got stuff this quirky—nobody! She was going to couple this llama stuff along with a five-star hip restaurant, and a desert cactus tour, and Mexican culture. By the time she was done? She’d have the airport selling out of tickets to visit this crazy, amazing town.

She snapped a few pictures, excited at the fortuitous resemblance of the woman and Harold to the American Gothic painting. “So, Harold sometimes hangs out in the shop? He doesn’t knock things over?”

“He does knock things over when there are unpleasant visitors.” Elle wrinkled her lip. “He’s choosy.”

“So you mentioned… he likes a blue pillow on his couch. He doesn’t live… in your house… does he?”

“Please. Harold lives in his own air-conditioned shed in back. He has a low, llama-sized couch, his own television, and art on the walls. He could hardly be comfortable in a full-sized human home.” The woman scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Of course he does.” Why wasn’t Zach in here yet? The truth was that she couldn’t be sure this was real. It was too insane. If only some other person was here to pinch her. “Can I see Harold’s home, and photograph him relaxing there, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.” Elle tilted her head in a noncommittal bobble. “If he’s acquiescent.”

“Do you get a lot of customers?”

Elle blinked. “I’m on one of the ‘Top Off The Road Stops In Phoenix’ tours. I get busloads of Japanese tourists every week. Also, I get a lot of casino traffic. So I’d say yes.”

“Good for you.”

“But many of my sales are online,” Elle added. “Etsy and eBay.” She rubbed Harold’s head. “And my Facebook and Twitter are off the hook.”

“Oh, they are?” Harper stifled a smile. “I’ll be sure to discuss that in the article.”

“Harold has his own fan page,” Elle confided. “It’s an advice page, called ‘Ask Harold the Llama.’ People write in with questions, and Harold answers them.”

Harper was sure she’d died and gone to journalistic heaven. “Oh my God. Can I—what’s the link?” She slung her camera strap over her shoulder, grabbed her phone and found the page, with a great big picture of Harold wearing a top hat.

“Oh, I see.” She read aloud: “Dear Harold the Llama, should I quit college (I have a scholarship) and tour California with my new boyfriend? He’s a drummer and he’s so hot and sexy, and I just know we’re soulmates. But he has needs and can’t wait for me if I don’t go with him. But I understand, because he’s really sensitive and deep and also I hate my classes.”

She looked up. “Wow. So, how will Harold answer that one?”

Elle slid an iPhone out of her vest pocket and typed rapidly. In a few minutes, a reply popped up.

Harper cleared her throat. “Dear Confused, Yes. Drop out of everything to follow this lad of yours around the dive bars of California. You will learn about the location of clean rest stops and free clinics [geography], the acquisition and avoidance of STDs [science], how to make five dollars last for a week of dinners [economics] and finally, heartbreak and betrayal [psychology]. The learnings you obtain for the three months of your grand journey will give you experience well beyond your years, and will surely be worth the loss of your scholarship and the everlasting ire of your family.

“P.S. If you do decide to go back someday for traditional education, may I suggest Bard College at Simon’s Rock? Their mascot is a llama.”

She looked up. “Interesting advice.”

Elle nodded. “On ‘Haiku Tuesdays,’ Harold gives all of his advice in the five-seven-five format.”

Harper scanned.

“Dear Harold the Llama, my mother says I should leave a plate of folded hand towels in my guest bathroom so each guest may have a disease-free washing experience. I think one towel is sufficient, and they can all share it. Who’s right?”

She looked up. “Fair question. And here’s the answer.”

All a guest will need:

Plentiful toilet paper

And a door that locks

“Hey, Harper, I finally made it.” Zach came in and stood beside her.

“Zach, I’d like to introduce you to someone really special. This is Elle Van Der Haven, and her, um, and Harold.”

“Nice to meet you.” Elle gave Zach a pleased smile.

Harold made a sound. One could describe the sound as something like a cross between a scream and the death of a whistle. He rose to his back feet, pawing the air violently with his front hooves, then snuffled and launched himself toward Zach.

“Whoa! Whoa there!” Zach put up his hands and stepped back, although not in time to avoid a collision with Harold’s large, wet mouth. “Okay! Okay, buddy, okay. Elle! Can you—okay there, ah, Harold. Good boy. Down.”

Elle pulled the leash, and Harold reluctantly broke away from the embrace. “He likes you.” Elle cleared her throat and tilted her head at Harper. “He doesn’t like everyone. So it’s a compliment.”

“I see.” Zach wiped his face and looked hard at Harper. “May I have a word with you, in private?” He scowled and pointed to the door.

“Sure!” Harper smiled. “This is my boss, Elle, so I’ll just duck out for a quick minute.”

“Harper, what the hell?” Zach crossed his arms. “You pulled me out of a meeting so I could be assaulted by an oversized goat? The therapy bills alone are going to be astronomical.” He looked at his pants, and wrinkled his mouth. “Not to mention the cleaning bill.”

“Yeah. That’s why you should buy non-dry-clean things only,” encouraged Harper. “Makes it easier. Also, Harold’s not a goat.”

“I don’t think it matters what he is, but how I’m going to get his nasty slobber out of my shirt before my next meeting? I hadn’t planned to stop back at the hotel.”

“Not to worry. Elle has T-shirts here in your size. May I recommend the one that says ‘But first, llama take a selfie’? I think it will go great with your shoes.”

Zach sighed. “I have to admit, this place is exactly what I wanted when I asked for local color.”

“Right?” Excited, Harper grabbed his arm. “It’s incredible. It’s like a fucking gold mine in there, Zach. I’m dying. This is so perfect.”

“What’s that bus?”

A huge luxury vehicle pulled up, air brakes hissing, pneumatics whooshing as it stepped itself down for easier exit. A sign on the side read “Happy Phoenix Lucky Tour Company.”

“Oh, Elle mentioned she’s on a route.”

“A route?”

“She’s got some tour company to put her on their stops, right after a casino trip.”

The doors opened, disgorging a stream of Japanese tourists. Shiny purses, high heels: The group was full of mostly young people, and all of them were heading right for Elle’s front door.

Zach cleared his throat. “I can’t help but notice that many of these tourists are dressed like anime characters.”

“Yeah, I see that too. Very cute. Let’s go back in the shop. I need pictures of this.” Brandishing her camera in one hand, Harper headed back, laser-focused on the store, excitement in her fingertips.

Inside, she barely knew which way to turn first. Should she snap pictures of the two girls dressed like Hatsune Miku, each kissing the cheek of a stuffed llama and giving huge smiles for a selfie-stick picture? Or perhaps the girl with Hello Kitty everything, who was cooing to Harold while he ate the straw Pokémon-shaped purse of the woman behind her? Maybe the older couple, impeccably dressed in a suit and fine dress and elegant shoes, not a hair out of place, not a drop of sweat even in this 110F heat? How about all of them?

Zach made his way through the melee. “This is like a Comic-Con convention.”

“Llama-con, more like it. Elle really works it. Watch her go.”

Elle easily moved through the crowd, grousing and explaining, her mix of vinegar and quirk clearly captivating everyone in the group. The shelves magically emptied as purchases piled up and the crowd dispersed back to the bus, stopping to tour Harold’s House, which was open for visitors.

A few women remained, looking over the T-shirts and mugs, one of them dressed in a tiny skirt, all plaid, her hair in braids, her legs gorgeous and long. She kept shooting glances at Zach and giggling with her friend, and Harper felt a pang of envy when she noticed Zach noticing. She rolled her eyes when he walked up to the girls with a smile, and felt like vomiting when he greeted them in what sounded like fluent Japanese.

The girls laughed, high tinkly sounds, and the one eyeing him smoothed her hair back. Her eyes, mysterious and lined with kohl, were gorgeous. Her skin, flawless. Harper felt sweaty and large in her jeans and hair escaping a bun. She bit her lip and looked away, out the window, to where the river and horses were not, seeing but not focusing on the bus and the milling passengers.

A sound from Harold made her whirl around; Harold reared up, making that horrible death sound, and pulled on his leash.

“Harold, no!” Elle sounded displeased. “That man has the right to talk to whomever he pleases. Let’s go outside.”

Harold narrowed his eyes and glared at Zach, and if she didn’t know better, Harper might think the animal was also jealous of the girl. She felt a sudden surge of sympathy.

The girl giggled and her eyes widened and she pointed. A particular part of Harold’s anatomy was showing as he reared up, and it was long. Very long. The two girls doubled over when Zach said something to them in Japanese.

Elle got Harold settled, and Harper tried not to frown when the girl pulled out her phone and Zach pulled out his phone and smiles and probably numbers and promises were exchanged.

Elle snorted. “You coming?” She pointed to the door. “We could use a hand.”

“Of course.” Harper tried to keep any note of irritation from her voice as she held the door open for Elle and Harold. “I’m just so entirely happy to help.”

“Walk with me.” Elle pointed to Harold’s House. “I’m going to get him settled in with lunch now that the tour’s about over. By the way, your friend back there? He told those women that they hadn’t seen anything yet, when Harold showed his goods.”

“Ugh. Gross.” Harper kicked at a piece of gravel.

“They seemed to think it was funny.”

“Oh, I’m sure they thought that.” She kicked another bit of gravel.

“Harold really liked that man. Zach, right?”

“Everyone likes Zach.” She crossed her arms, even though it was a million degrees out. “Even male llamas, apparently.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “But cute girls are his specialty.”

Zach chose that moment to come out of the house, the girls close behind. He called out to her. “Harper, you ready to head out? I need to get to my next meeting.”

“Yes, sure. Elle, may I come back this week to get a few more pictures?”

“Any time, Harper. Any time.”

Chapter 11

After spending the entire next day sweating off her sunscreen and taking close-ups of cacti, shaded pictures of strange desert blooms, reflections of the high noon sun off the shattering blue of the pool, and then shots of some of the dinner specials against a white backdrop in the dining room, Harper was sweaty and hot. The shower felt amazing, and she put on a pretty tank top and jeans to meet Zach for dinner at the restaurant. Conversation flowed easily, and afterwards, they talked to Jeremy for a few minutes in the lobby.

“So you want to do the desert evening tour?” The hotel manager gestured toward the huge plate glass windows that highlighted the setting sun. “We usually see a lot of local wildlife. I have a volunteer from the Desert Botanical Garden to guide and look. Carlos. He’s amazing.”

“What kind of wildlife?”

“Usually we see bats, tarantulas, scorpions, owls. Sometimes Bobby comes around. He’s the local bobcat.”

Harper pressed her hand into her stomach. “Like, a person dressed in a suit, you mean? Like a mascot? Or perhaps a stray cat.”

“No, I mean a real live bobcat. But he’s cool. He’s never hurt anyone.”

“That sounds cool. Sign me up.” Harper grinned. “Right, Zach? You’re up for it.”

“You just put your name here.” Jeremy pointed to a list on the counter. Harper put down her name and Zach’s.

“Zach, look!” Her voice was hallowed. “It’s a great horned owl!”

“Wow.” He lowered his voice. “It’s looking right at us.”

“Look how it bobs its head forward. What is it doing? Is it sensing us?” Fascinated, she stepped closer. “God, it’s gorgeous. Look at those powerful legs. And those claws.”

“Those look pretty wicked,” he agreed.

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her voice was quiet. “I’m glad we did this.”

“The owls have one ear higher and offset than the other,” Carlos jumped in. “The uneven placement changes the way sound waves reverberate so they can triangulate their prey—determine distance and height.” He glanced over. “The owl might be moving his head, yes, to learn more about your position and location.”

“But it won’t attack us. Right?”

Carlos laughed. “No. The largest thing the owls can attack is maybe a rabbit, a Chihuahua, a…”

“Did you say Chihuahua?”

“I did. Hawks and eagles can take them, too, so people who live near the mountains need to be careful of their pets. I had a friend in Tucson who lost a Shih Tzu to a hawk. It was like that scene from that movie with what’s her name, Sandra Bullock, but real. And very tragic.”

“God.”

“Here, look, I’m going to give you the black light flashlights. Scorpions will glow under the black light like they’re neon millennials at a rave.” He laughed. “Don’t touch them.”

“Not planning to. Where should I shine the light?” She was actually excited to do this. Having other people around, like Carlos, made it less terrifying. These were things you could live in and among, if you knew how. She could learn.

Carlos gestured. “Off the path, you can try the gravel and rocks over there. Just keep scanning the sides of the path as we walk. You’ll see one sooner or later.”

Grateful she’d exchanged her flip-flops for sneakers, Harper slid her hand into Zach’s and he squeezed reassuringly. “They don’t jump.”

“No.” Carlos laughed longer than seemed strictly necessary. “Tarantulas, if you see one, are shy, too. The only thing that might jump is a wolf spider, but we won’t see those right here, I don’t think.”

“Snakes?”

“Nah, too much foot traffic recently.” Carlos sounded disappointed. “But if you get up early or come out later than this tour, you might see one. But don’t approach. That, though,” his voice firmed, “is dangerous and don’t do it for kicks. A rattler bite is nothing to laugh at, okay? Got me?”

They nodded.

After the tour, Zach pulled her hand toward the bench facing the mountains. “Sit with me.”

“We might be attacked by crazy desert creatures.” But she was joking. Although they’d seen more than one scorpion, a tarantula, and a bat, she was exhilarated.

“I’ll keep you safe.” He tugged her to his body. “Let’s look at the mountains we can’t see, and talk.”

“Okay.” Unbelievably pleased, she snuggled into his shoulder. “It’s just cooler enough to be bearable right now.”

“Yeah. How do you like it here?”

“You mean Arizona? Or this resort?”

He shrugged against her.” Both. Either.”

“More than I would ever have expected. Things, when you get to know them, are deeper and more nuanced than you could ever imagine from the surface.” She paused. “Like a fractal.”

“How’s that?”

“You know the fractals, right? They look like fancy gorgeous snowflakes with all kinds of points and curves and divots on their arms. All colorful, like an oil slick.”

“Do I know the fractals? It’s like you’re asking if I know the Joneses or the Smiths.”

“Stop! I know you know what I’m talking about.”

He laughed. “I thought they were more of a mathematical construct than an oil slick.”

“But how they draw them. They look like multicolored mandalas, or fancy swirls, like Escher on molly made them.”

“Yes, I know those, although I can’t tell you anything about the science behind them.”

“Well, I’m no expert. But the thing I do know about fractals is this.” She drew one in the air in front of her, a curve. “The point is, that the details are supposed to reflect the thing as a whole. And they never end. If you enlarge pieces of the edges of it, it’s supposed to look just like the original, and so on for ever and ever.”

“Infinity in a finite space.”

“They use them to describe coastlines and galaxies. I don’t know how, really.”

“A never-ending pattern, right? It repeats and repeats, on a smaller and smaller scale.”

“Yes. So anyway, to make a really long and complicated analogy, Arizona is a fractal. From the surface, it looked boring and I was disappointed not to be in Hawaii. All I saw from the drive was boring buildings and dry fields. Then I looked closer and I found…”

“Smaller boring building and tiny dry fields? And inside those fields, even tinier buildings and more minuscule fields?”

“No! Stop it!” She laughed. “Okay, it’s not a perfect analogy. The point is that there was way more there than I could imagine. And every time I looked more closely at something, it turned into something else wonderful and interesting. Every detail led to another detail, and another. And what I thought would be a dry and dusty place ended up being full of life and wonder and color.”

“Look at you making that lemonade,” he said, pulling her closer. “Out of those closed flaps came an open mind.”

“You’re awful.” She groaned.

“Come on, it would make a great blog title.”

“Never!” She giggled, then they fell silent.

“Do you think people are like fractals?” She looked up at him, finding his eyes in the moonlight.

“How’s that?” He brushed a strand of hair from her face, and she felt tingles at the gesture.

“More complex than you could imagine. More interesting than you can see at first glance.”

“Isn’t that the going philosophy? Everyone’s deeper than you first give them credit for?”

“But it’s really true. You know?” She wanted his hand back on her face. “The interesting part is how they don’t mimic what you see on the outside. You see one thing, you look, you find something else entirely. It’s a reverse fractal maybe. Instead of endlessly repeating that one design on the outside, they create a whole new world on the inside.”

“I think the fractal analogy is done,” he announced with a smirk, but answered her with a more serious look. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s like a mystery, every time you get to know someone. But also a little stressful, right? Because they’re also finding out about you. And then you might not like what you see, or they might not.”

“And that’s why people avoid intimacy,” she mused. “The social intimacy, I mean. Getting to know people not on a sexual basis, but the deeper than an acquaintance basis. It’s scary. Right?”

He nodded. Then he asked, “When we were in the airplane.”

“Yes?” She stiffened, just a little, not sure what he was going to say.

“We talked about a lot of things.”

“We did.” She nodded.

“Do you feel that we became closer because of it?”

She thought before responding. “It felt like it, right? I think so, at least in some ways. Don’t you?” She glanced up at him for confirmation, although the fact that he was even asking—coupled with his arm around her, the two of them sitting against the night—surely should have been answer enough.

“I do,” he said slowly. “I think we exchanged information that we would not have shared at this point in our relationship. Maybe never.”

“Definitely.”

“I guess the question is, what did that do for… us?” He pulled away to face her a little on the bench, putting his hands out like a question.

“I don’t know.” Her face was hot, her pulse racing. She wanted him, she knew he wanted her. She didn’t want to want him. He wasn’t a safe bet. He was the kind of man who would become a drug overnight, tipping her over the edge from crush to full-fledged addiction even as he was pushing her away when he was done. And then it would take months more, long, dreary difficult months, to get the taste of his mouth out of her mind, to lose the feel of his hands on her skin—

“Well, it made me want to do it again.”

“Do what again?”

“Look into your eyes for four minutes and then kiss you senseless.” He smiled. “I liked that feeling. Didn’t you?”

“Yes, but we were… it was an adrenaline situation. Right? You were helping me, and I was practically manic with fear. And then you turned me down when I…” She swallowed.

“I didn’t want to turn you down,” he reminded her. “I was trying to do the right thing. Make sure you really wanted—something. With me. But yeah, I felt like we had a connection on the plane.”

“I don’t know if it…” She stopped talking, mesmerized by the look in his eyes.

“Only one way to find out.” He lowered his voice and brushed his hand over her cheek, cupping it as he leaned in.

Chapter 12

She thought he was going to kiss her, but he stopped, closer than the time in the plane, and smiled. “Want to set a timer?”

She shook her head.

“We’ll just estimate, then.” He put his other hand on her cheek, too, so he was holding her face with both hands.

“Okay.” Her voice was so soft. His eyes glittered in the dim light and the shape of his face was in shadow, making him sexy and mysterious. “Should we talk?”

“If you want.” He removed his hands from her face, still looking right at her, and ran his palms over her shoulders, down her arms, until he caught her hands in his.

“Okay.” She wanted him to talk because she liked the way his lips looked, moving. Was it cheating to glance at his lips now and then? She smiled, and his eyes darted to her mouth, and that made her smile more.

“What?” His voice was teasing.

“I saw you look at my lips.”

“That’s because I want to kiss them. You looked at mine, too.”

“They have a nice shape.”

“And?”

“Does there have to be more?”

“I think there does.” He reached up and brushed his thumb across her lower lip. “And I’m pretty sure there is more, Harper.”

She swiped at his thumb with her tongue, a quick flick, and was gratified to see his jaw clench and feel his body tighten, something she sensed from their proximity.

“You could be right. But you’ll have to wait four minutes to find out, though, won’t you?”

“Only if you trust me to honor the original agreement,” he said.

“I would hardly stare into the eyes of someone who I found untrustworthy, now, would I?” she chastised him, with a grin.

“Maybe, if he was as good at certain… things… as I am.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You’re confident, I see.”

He grinned at her. “Yeah, I am.”

“Well, I,” she said, deliberately licking her lip, “am also quite good at certain… things. Just for the record.”

His eyes narrowed and a tendon jerked in his neck. “Then we’ll make a very good match, won’t we?”

“Only time will tell,” she said, although she was absolutely sure that he could give her the most amazing night of her life.

“To pass the time, want to ask another of the thirty-six questions?”

“Why are his questions so good? I think we should come up with our own.”

“Okay, ask away.” He smiled. “Anything you want.”

Her brain went blank, because she didn’t really want to talk at all; she wanted to melt into his arms and his mouth, to be bare skin on skin. And if she couldn’t do it, she wanted to think about that, and only that.

She blinked and grasped at a random thought that slipped by. “What’s the best thing you’ve ever done?”

“The best thing?” He blinked rapidly. “Wow, that’s hard to answer. I don’t know.” Although he was still looking at her, his gaze seemed vacant, like he was seeing something in the past, now, instead of her eyes. “Forming my business. Well, for me. That’s the best thing I’ve ever done for me. And, I don’t want to brag, but for my employees, it’s a good thing, too.” He paused. “But—the best thing. That’s hard, to sum up the accomplishments of an entire life into one thing.”

“Right?” She was eager to share. “I guess my best thing would be my career. But when I look at it from above, like a hundred miles above, that seems so… I don’t want to say useless, but I want more. I guess that’s why I got so scared on the airplane. I wanted all the options back. I wanted to do more and see more and be more. Maybe it’s why I get scared every time, on every plane. I feel my own insignificance and how badly I want to accomplish things, while I still can.”

He nodded. “If you’re asking what’s the nicest thing I’ve ever done? I don’t know about that either. I mean, I’ve donated a lot of money to charity over the years, individually and from my business. I guess those are good things. Are they better than forming the business in the first place? Better for the world as a whole? How do you judge that?”

“I don’t know how. I’m just asking.” She shrugged. “I guess the nice things I’ve done are so small compared to the world, although at the time they seemed very powerful.”

“Such as?”

“I’ve—one time my friend on the block growing up got sick, really sick. Something with her kidneys, but I was a kid so I never knew the real details. But we visited her in the hospital and she was so sad and pale, like someone had sucked the her right out of her body and filled it back up with, like, putty. She was scary because she was so apathetic. Seeing me didn’t help. We just sat there. Then I, well, I had this gorgeous fake diamond ring that I loved. It was heavy and looked like the Hope Diamond or something, and it was so sparkly, and it made my finger green from the band. I took it off and I put it on her hand. And then she smiled, and it was like the film came off of her eyes, I swear.”

She touched her face. “I’m going to cry!” she laughed. “Not really. But it made her so, so happy. And then her mom—I could see her mom in the hallway, hovering, watching like a mother bird staring at a fox lurking near her nest of eggs—”

“Not at you, right?”

“No! Not at me. At her daughter in that fucking bed with the fucking IV in her arm. She was so helpless. That was scarier than seeing Manda there. But I gave her that ring and she got so happy and she hugged me, and then we started talking. And she smiled a lot.”

“That’s really sweet.”

“At the time, it seemed monumental. I loved that ring and would never have considered giving it to anyone. And it made her happy, and that made her mom happy, so it was a good thing to put into the world, right? But is it the best thing of my life?” She paused. “I don’t know. And if it is, is that pathetic? That in all of my years on the planet, the best thing I’ve ever done is to give a toy ring to a sick child?”

She shook her head. “It’s not a good question. Sorry.”

“No, it is good.” His voice was urgent. “Maybe all of the little things are the important things. That one thing, okay, that was small, but important to that girl. And important to the core of who you are as a person. And if you do a lot of nice little things, over time, that adds up into something far larger.”

She nodded. “I hope so. I mean, I’m sure the right answer most people would give is my kids, of course. Everyone would consider their kids the best thing they’ve done, because procreation, keeping the human race alive, blah. But I don’t have kids yet. So—I’m still important, right?” She heard the question in her voice.

“I’d say you are.” His voice was firm. “Everyone’s important. All of us together. One big human team.”

“Yes.”

He touched her face. “I think the time is up, Harper.” He smiled. “What’s next?”

She smiled back. “Well, you could ask me another question. Or…”

“Or this?” He leaned in so his breath brushed her cheek. “The kiss we’ve been waiting for?” He ran his lips over her neck, and she shuddered with arousal. “Neck first, or lips, Harper?”

“Lips,” she whispered, and then his mouth was on hers, as sexy and warm as she remembered, and he wrapped one hand behind her neck to pull her to him, gentle but firm.

She reached out to touch him, too, twisting on the bench for a better position, and he surprised her by breaking away and standing, pulling her to her feet. “Like this,” he said, then tugged her in so their bodies touched, chest to hips. “See?”

He bit her neck, a quick nip, then kissed the spot before taking her lips again. One hand on her back, the other on her ass; she touched the side of his jaw, his shoulders, then reached for his ass as well, smiling into his mouth when he growled.

When his leg nudged at her thigh, she shifted without words, letting him pull her closer yet, and when she felt how hard he was already, more passion surged.

His phone rang and he ignored it, just pulling her hips into him, urgently, as the ringtone chimed and chimed. But when it rang a second time, and a third, Harper pulled back. “It looks like someone’s trying to contact you,” she said, her concentration broken.

“They can fuck off,” he said, but pulled it from his pocket anyway. “Just let me deal with whatever it is, and then we’re going to continue this conversation.”

She laughed.

“It’s the resort manager at the Hawaiian Tropics. Let me just call back. One minute. Sorry.”

She nodded. “Of course. No problem.” She stepped back and ran a hand over her lips, smiling to see Zach adjust himself and take a deep breath before he dialed. The minute turned into two, then into five, and Zach’s face seemed serious, then animated, as the conversation on the phone dragged on and on.

She bit her lip and kicked some gravel, and Zach noticed, gave her an apologetic smile and wave, but when he still didn’t get off the phone, she whispered, “Find me when you’re done.”

He nodded, then sat back on the bench. “I’m going to have to get my laptop for that, Leilani, to verify the numbers…”

Harper sighed. This looked like it might end up being a longer call than expected, and as she headed back to her room, she felt awkward about what might happen next with Zach. Why did life have to be so complex?

She tapped out a text to Talia. “Are you around? I need to talk.”

Her ringtone chimed a second later and Talia’s voice rang into her ear. “Harper! How’s the desert treating you?”

“Fine.” She blurted it out. “I just kissed Zach again.”

“And why are you talking to me about this, instead of riding his dick?”

“Well, he got a phone call and had to take it, and it’s lasting a while.”

“That’s stupid.”

“Right? And now I don’t know… like, is he going to come find me when he’s done, and we continue? Or is it over now? Ugh.”

“Was it a good kiss?”

“The best.”

“Then it’s not over.”

“Well, but what if he’s all, oh, it was a good kiss, but it’s boring Harper who freaks out on airplanes, and besides I could get someone hotter in a second?”

“First of all, you’re not boring, and didn’t you say that your first kiss was because you freaked out on the airplane? He’s probably thinking, damn, I gotta take this girl on more airplane rides so I can get more bidniss.”

“You’re gross. And you can’t say bidniss. Just, no.”

“It was worth a try. What’s this whole someone hotter thing? I don’t understand that phrase. You—and I, of course—are the hottest girls in the world. Remember?”

“We are?”

“Yes. Definitely. Which is why you’re going to get Zach, if you want him, and I’m going to get Josh when he’s back from Hawaii.”

“You should send him one of those photocopies of your tits and a cute little handwritten note in purple marker. Oh, Josh! Want to motorboat with me?”

“Now you’re being the gross one! Why did you freak out so much on the plane, anyway? Didn’t you take your happy pills?”

“I forgot them!” Harper’s voice rose. “And I don’t know, the turbulence was just so shitty, and then the flap thing… and oh, God, my stomach is getting that feeling again.”

“I’m sorry I reminded you. You were so upset when you landed. I was glad you called me for comfort. I wish I could have helped more.”

“No, it’s not your fault. I mean, I’m going to have to fly again in a few days. And then again, a lot, over and over, for work.” She felt a lump in her throat. “Maybe I should see a therapist about it.”

“Or just take Zach with you everywhere,” offered her friend. “And have him stick his tongue down your throat when you get nervous. Maybe you can get him a reduced fare, like he’s a therapy dog or something.”

Harper laughed. “Great idea! I’ll make him wear one of those vests and a harness.”

“You’ll have to bring him special meals and make sure he has all his vaccinations.”

“Oh my God. He’d kill me if he heard us talking.”

“Or maybe he’d spank you. Bad girl. Bend over for your punishment!”

“Stop!”

“Oh, come on, you’d totally love it if he did that.”

“We’ve only kissed.”

“But was it the kiss that means let’s fuck now, or the kiss that means eh, I’m good and I’m going home to watch TV?”

“The first kind. Definitely.”

“So get on your cute panties, girlfriend, because after his phone call, he’s going to do some direct dialing between your thighs.”

“Oh, God. You should record yourself. I don’t know whether to laugh or gag at you.”

“Speaking of gagging…”

“We weren’t. Okay, I’m going to go now. Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Anytime. Love you.”

Chapter 13

When she still hadn’t heard back from Zach, and his half of the casitas remained dark and silent, she wandered down the path, past the pool and stream, toward the main lobby. Would he maybe be in there?

He wasn’t, although the shiny polished wooden floors and the décor held various travelers checking in.

She picked up her phone, wondering if she should text, then put her hand down. He had said he’d come to her when he was done. Or had he? He nodded, right, when she’d whispered, “find me when you’re done”? So the ball was in his court.

“Did you enjoy the tour?”

“Excuse me?” Startled, she turned to face the shift manager.

“The evening wildlife tour with Carlos?”

“Oh! Yes, it was really cool. Thanks.” She smiled. “We saw all kinds of things I don’t get back home in Chicago.”

“If you want a scorpion of your own, we have scorpion lollipops in the gift shop,” he offered with a wink. “They’re food-grade and safe to eat. The poison is removed at the candy company before the scorpion is put into the lollipop. They make great souvenirs.”

“Is that safe?” She followed him over and picked one up. “It looks pretty wicked, though. I love it.”

“The tip of the tail with the poison is removed,” he pointed. “If you’re not familiar with scorpions,”

“I’m not,” she interjected.

“Then you might not notice the difference, but locals can tell that the tail is shorter, and the sharp tip has been removed. Also, from what I understand, the factory cooks them to denature the poison before embedding them in the candy.”

“Still scary. What if they don’t get all the poison? Would I, like, die?” She thought about Japan. “Is it like that blowfish that people like to eat, where if the ovaries aren’t removed just the right way, you can die a terrible death within minutes?”

“Haha! No. I don’t think so.”

“I’ll take three yellow ones and two pink.” She picked up a handful of the candies. “My friends will love these. Do people actually eat them?”

“Probably not. But you could, is the point.” He laughed. “Also, over here? Chocolate-covered scorpions, one per box.”

“Wow, you’ve got quite the buffet here,” she commented. “I can honestly say I’ve never purchased a scorpion lollipop before.”

“Ah, just one of the many things that make Phoenix so fun,” he returned, swiping her credit card with a flourish. “Enjoy the rest of your stay. If we can do anything to make you more comfortable, just let us know.”

“Thanks.” She smiled and picked up the small paper bag, pale tan and smooth/shiny to the touch, folding the top down, enjoying the feel of a new purchase in her hands, thinking idly of the faces of her friends when she passed out the treats. Buying souvenirs was always a pleasure, even if a small one, sending a jolt of joy to her brain.

The manager called out, “Oh, one more thing. If you want to see more scorpions, maybe for your pictures? We have a clock with scorpions embedded in epoxy resin, like paperweights, for each number. Very rustic, handmade by a local. It’s on the wall down that hallway, right outside the main conference room.”

“Thanks.” She waved and headed down the hall, curious to see the clock.

As she turned the corner, she caught a glimpse of the pretty desk attendant from the first night, the pretty one with the red rose in her hair. Marielle. Visible through the plate glass window, standing outside in a courtyard near a patch of bougainvillea, she was laughing up into the face of a man.

Harper smiled, her own kiss with Zach giving her an indulgent feeling of camaraderie with this woman, enjoying the velvet night for her own piece of romance.

But when the girl turned, revealing the profile of her man, Harper stepped back, eyes widened, hand clenching on her bag. What the hell? Was that… Zach? No! It couldn’t be. Right? It just looked like him, from a distance. It was impossible that it could be him. The laws of physics—he’d just been with her, on the phone; there was no way he could be with this woman, now, in the courtyard?

But as if in a dream, she walked to the door and opened it, silent and stepped out, closer to the couple, all thoughts of clocks and wildlife fleeing her brain.

“So glad you’re enjoying the city…”

“Yes, it… gorgeous…”

Fragments of the conversation were wiped out by a wind chime and the conversation of two elderly resort guests, walking back to their casita. The woman was standing so close. Closer than you stand to someone who’s a guest, a patron, a stranger.

Then his laugh rang out, unmistakable. Harper gasped, tears instant, anger only a half second behind.

They both turned, and she felt embarrassment and righteous indignation at the same time. The woman looked curious.

Zach’s face fell in a way that might be comical if she wasn’t so angry. “Harper.”

She turned hard and entered the lobby and hurried back out the other door to the path leading to her casita. “Fuck you, Zach,” she muttered, feet crunching the gravel. “Such a stupid, stupid. So stupid.” But it wasn’t clear if she meant Zach, or herself, or both.

His feet hit the path, coming after her. “Harper!” He touched her shoulder.

She whirled around. “Oh my God, Zach. Again?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. The first time, okay, I got over that. But now, again? You’re with me, you express interest, but you can’t even wait twenty minutes? I mean, the first pretty girl you see, you’re going to mess around? I can’t even believe you.”

She turned and started walking again.

“I wasn’t messing around!” He sounded frustrated. “Harper. Harper! Can you stop for a minute?”

“Can I stop for a minute? No. Can you stop for a minute, is the better question.” She kept walking. “I can’t believe I got sucked in a second time.”

“What are you so upset about?”

She stopped and turned to face him. “What am I so upset about? Maybe the fact that you kiss me, look into my eyes and kiss me. And then you don’t come find me. And when I see you, you’re standing all brushed up against that woman, and she’s touching your face and laughing into you and you’re laughing and—that’s not cool.”

“I didn’t kiss her or anything, Harper.”

“But you were going to.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Well, did you tell her that? Because I can read body language, Zach, and that woman was clearly into you. Like, into you, into you. Like, she thought you two were going to fuck.” The raw word felt good ringing out into the air. “And you were doing nothing to dissuade her of that idea. Anyone seeing the two of you would have thought you were a couple. And that was me, not even half an hour ago. I just don’t know what to think now, Zach.”

He touched her arm. “Harper, please. Look, she came up to me in the courtyard when I was finishing my call. She, okay, she was flirting with me. So I flirted a little, too. It was harmless.”

“Then why don’t I feel okay about it?” Harper crossed her arms. “You know what, never mind. It’s late. I’m going to go to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow for the morning meeting.”

“You’re being ridiculous right now.”

“Oh, I am?” She glared at him. “Because the way I see it, you’re the ridiculous one. Good night.”

She slammed her door.

The next morning wasn’t fun. She showered with a knot of unhappiness in her throat, angry that Zach had been flirting with the desk attendant, confused about what it meant, and pissed that he hadn’t come after her when she slammed the door in his face. By the time she entered the breakfast room for their early morning meeting, she was practically steaming.

He looked up, wary. “Harper. Good morning.”

She slid into her seat, feeling hot and cold. “Zach.”

Immediately he leaned over and put his hand on hers. “Harper, we need to talk about it.”

She pulled her hand away and crossed her arms over her chest. “What did you want to say?” Her voice was cool, neutral.

“That it wasn’t what you thought, but I’m sorry.”

“I like how you manage to squeeze in a you’re so wrong even before you apologize. Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Okay, you can keep saying it, but it doesn’t fix what’s wrong.” Her voice rose in frustration.

“I don’t know what to fix.” He sounded frustrated, too. “I mean, I tried to explain, and you didn’t accept it. What else can I do?” He ran a hand over his jaw. His eyes looked tired. “I didn’t sleep well. Did you?”

“No.” She wished she had grabbed a cup of coffee before confronting him. Her eyes were gritty and her throat dry, and the smell of his coffee made her salivate. “I did not.” She took a deep breath.

His voice was taut. “I was not planning to do anything with Marielle. In retrospect, I can see how… what you saw… looked. But I… Fuck, Harper. I was going to come back to you. How could you not realize that?” He lowered his voice. “That kiss wasn’t just a random thing. There was a real attraction there. Am I wrong?”

“God, I need coffee.” She grabbed his cup. “I’m taking yours.” She narrowed her eyes.

“Be my guest.”

“I will.”

“Fine.”

“So if you were so into me, why didn’t you come after me?”

He sighed. “If I had, would you have let me talk?”

She shrugged. “No. I don’t know. Maybe. The point is, you didn’t even try.”

“Maybe I tried once, when you confronted me, and I’m not going to get on my knees and beg if you’re not going to listen like an adult.”

“Oh, really?” She sat up straight. “Zach, are you for real?”

“Am I wrong?”

“Yes!” She practically shouted it, then lowered her voice. “I’m really mad at you right now.”

“I can see that. I’m not very happy myself.”

“Uh, am I here at a bad time?” The resort manager was standing behind them. “If you need some time, I can come back.”

“No, Jeremy, please, sit down. We’re just having a discussion about contracts. We get very passionate.” She stood up and pasted a smile onto her face. “It’s so good to see you again. This is lovely.” She gestured around her, then glared at Zach behind Jeremy’s back. “I’m going to get some breakfast to go with my coffee. And a new coffee, because I ruined this one by putting too much sugar in it. It’s disgusting. Haha.”

“Ah, okay.”

Jeremy sat down and, and as Harper walked up to the omelet station, she could see him launch into an animated discussion with Zach.

When Jeremy finally left, Harper and Zach were silent. The room had cleared out fast. The German tourists left early, their worn-in hiking boots and strong legs, their functional backpacks indicating that they were completely at ease in the desert. The family from somewhere else in the US was still relaxing, the twin boys with their deep black eyes and impossibly long lashes giggling together, but the Japanese tour had already taken off in a tour bus (not Maroki’s) with the words “Antelope Canyon Tours” on the side and intriguing photographed decals of otherworldly rock swirls and spirals.

Zach leaned forward, half-wary, half-entreating. “I don’t want to fight with you, Harper. I don’t want us to have a problem.”

“I think I know the problem.” Harper pushed at her cup of lukewarm coffee. “We keep blurring the boundaries, and it’s just too confusing. We need to pick one thing and just be that to each other. Like coworkers. Or friends. But we can’t be that and sometimes… kiss.” She flushed. “Or, you know, things. It’s just.” She shook her head. “Too complicated.”

He regarded her. “But there is mutual interest.”

“Yes, there is.” She flushed again. “But we don’t have a status, or an agreement, or trust. I just think we should stop all of the extracurriculars, and just stay as friends. Okay?” She looked at him, half-hoping he’d disagree.

“If that’s what you want, then I respect it.” He looked away. “Of course.”

“It’s just that if we’re working together—”

“I understand. I won’t pressure you.” He sounded formal and apologetic.

“No, you didn’t pressure me. God, nothing like that. I wanted it as much as you did.” She touched her face. “It’s just—I don’t think it would… lead anywhere, right?” She felt like her gaze was too beseeching, and she looked at her lap, at her twisted fingers. “So it’s better to cut it off now, instead of getting into a messy situation.”

“I like messy situations. Sorry.” He put up his hands. “I couldn’t resist. Bad joke. Okay, if you call it, then, friends it is.” He swallowed and extended his hand. “As a friend, will you accompany me to dinner tonight at the restaurant you recommended? Chef Silvana has agreed to greet us personally and let you take behind the scenes footage.”

She smiled, some of the awkwardness dissipated. “Oh my God, that’s legit amazing. Yes, let’s go.”

Chapter 14

The restaurant was packed, with people spilling from the lobby to the front door and back, a casual mass forming and reforming, laughter and eyes sparkling in the dim light. The smell of garlic and chorizo filled the air, and sizzling sounds and cheerful shouts rang out from the kitchen.

The server, a gorgeous woman in chic tight black, her dark hair glossy and sleek, smiled. “Table for two? The wait’s about two hours right now.” She smiled apologetically, then looked at Zach again, and her eyes widened. She stood a little straighter, and flipped her hair off her shoulder.

“Aw, too bad,” Zach said, a smile breaking out across his face. “I heard the paella is killer. I’d hate to have to go somewhere else.”

“Oh, it’s so good!” The server smiled. “No, don’t go anywhere else. The drinks are mad good too, while you wait. I promise we’ll keep you happy.” She stepped just a fraction closer, and Harper bit her lip. Ugh. Of course.

“Oh, I have no doubt.” Zach reached out as if he was going to touch her arm and pulled back at the last second. He examined her nametag. “Luna? I’m Zach.” He stuck out his hand, and she took it, her smile even bigger now. “Nice to meet you. Actually, we have a special reservation with Chef Silvana. Zach Taylor and Harper Grainger.”

“Oh, of course! She told me to expect you. Come on back.” She touched his arm. “I’m so excited that you’re going to feature us on your site. Everyone’s ready to help or be in pictures or whatever you want.” She smiled up into his face as they walked to the back of the restaurant, Harper following behind.

“Well, Harper’s going to direct the pictures.” Zach half-turned to include her, but the server only gave a cursory smile to Harper before turning her pretty face and cleavage toward him, a sunflower greeting her god.

“So cool. Awesome.”

Meeting Chef S. was exciting, and the pictures Harper got were good: Clear, crisp, full of vibrant colors and sharp angles, softened by smiles and soft focus just every now and then. She wanted her pictures to match the mood of the restaurant: Bold and eclectic, proud and unapologetic, classy and angry, but with the softer edges of culture and grace, of exotic spices and hope. This was a place favored for not just the food but the way the chef interacted with the local neighborhood, the city of Phoenix as a whole, and the way she was a stubborn anchor point for showcasing the beauty of Mexican culture and the strength of women.

Later, invited to stay for a complimentary meal, Zach and Harper stood in the lobby, waiting for a table to clear up. Luna sidled up and put her hand on Zach’s arm. “I have a few people waiting, but for you, I’m going to slip you in.” She giggled.

“I’d be delighted if you could slip me in.” His voice was low and flirtatious, and Harper wanted to say, “Get a room.” Except he probably was going to get one, later, with Luna. That thought made her feel ill and anxious; she’d been the one to call them just friends, but the truth was that she still wanted him with every fiber of her body, and felt unjustifiably jealous.

Harper supposed she should be grateful that Zach could charm his way into first-class service with his body and his smile, but all it did was make her feel superfluous and pissed, at him and at the world in general.

She slid her camera out of the bag. She had her 50mm lens attached, one that could work in very low light, like here in the restaurant. Feeling the smooth body of the instrument calmed her instantly, and when she slid the lens cap into her bag and lifted the camera up to adjust dials, she took a deep breath.

This was better. Now she was a documentarian, not an observer. Now her invisibility was a bonus, not a liability. Now being on the fringes was the plan, not the disappointment, and she stepped back into the foyer to observe and look for her marks, a hunter, intent, confident, complete.

She had plenty of shots from earlier, when she and Zach had met with Chef Silvana herself; of the kitchen, the exterior, and the amazing graffiti mural art on the walls and alleys outside the place. But those were staged, and although she loved them, there was a unique challenge to this, the action shot. Capturing a moment out of a million others, knowing which one would look good immortalized, finding the light and the players and the background—it was like chess. And it was a drug.

And when Zach came up and touched her arm, said they had a table, she just nodded and kept going. “I’m going to go out back again and catch the murals with this couple,” she told him in an undertone. “They agreed to be in the article and will sign my release. I love their urban look.”

Zach nodded. “I’ll get you a drink. What do you want?”

“Red wine. A pinot of some kind. You pick.” She led the young couple outside, and it was at least an hour before she returned, face flushed with heat and exuberance, back to her original confidence.

As she stepped inside the door, the cooler air swirled around her, and the smell of garlic and food was familiar, now that this was her second time inside. Luna was bending over beside Zach, accepting his business card, it looked like, or exchanging information on phones. Zach’s hand was on her arm, and it was definitely a “fuck you later” kind of vibe. Any woman could see immediately the difference between desire and polite deference, the way need flashed in someone’s eyes and came out in their very gestures, and the way disinterest didn’t.

She swallowed. It sort of sucked, to see Zach constantly hitting on women, especially after that kiss. And their night together, which wasn’t really a night together, but had felt intimate in a way that had nothing to do with sex. It felt… wrong, made her upset. She didn’t think she really had a right be upset, but nevertheless, she was.

She slid into her seat, noticing the passage of time from his empty wineglass and the look on his face. “Sorry I took so long. Pictures just take time, sometimes. You understand. Anyway, they’re for you, probably, so we all benefit.” She placed the camera onto the tabletop and patted it.

He raised an eyebrow. “I was ready to send out the search party. In fact, I did come out back to check on you, saw that you were busy, and went back in.”

“You did? I didn’t notice.”

“You were really wrapped up in what you were doing.” He nodded to her glass. “Your wine has had plenty of time to air.”

“Thank you for keeping the bugs out of it.” She grinned and raised the glass. “Oh, this is good.”

He smiled. “And the paella is almost ready, I assume.”

She glanced around the room. “Oh, look at the way the light from the fixtures gleams on that woman’s hair. See how she’s leaning into her date? I love that.” She lifted the camera and snapped. “It’s so intimate and yet so public, and the light is like a spotlight, accentuating their sense of solitude in this crowd. It’s perfect.”

“I thought you said that about the last thousand shots you took.” His voice was wry.

“Yes, yes, whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “It’s perfect, they’re all perfect. I need a million perfect shots to find the absolutely most perfect ones for the article. The more I have to choose from, the better it will be.”

“I thought the phrase was,” he cleared his throat, “less is more.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Not always. Sometimes less is not enough. Sometimes less means nothing worthwhile.” She glanced away, picked up the camera, and took a few pictures.

“Harper.” He put a hand on her arm. “Listen. Can you put the camera down for a few minutes?”

“Sure.” She set it on the table and looked at him, expectant. “What’s up?”

He shook his head and laughed. “No. I mean, can you put it away for the night.”

“Away?” She frowned. “But I’m taking pictures.”

“Yeah, I know. Constantly.” He gave her a rueful grin.

“Zach, it’s my job, remember? The one you hired me to do?”

“I hired you,” he said, his voice slightly taut, “to take amazing pictures of the resort, and a few of Phoenix landmarks, for a blog post. I think you got enough of those by now.”

“I have lots of great shots. But I want to get another close-up of the dessert when it comes and I love the way the lights reflect off the windows. I want to get a shot of that because it’s just so lovely. And I have this idea in my mind, that maybe I’ll see a perfect pair of diners. I hope that someone leans into his girlfriend, and they’re both slim and elegant and lovely, and I’ll catch a side view, but not their faces—”

“Stop!” He held up his hand, laughing, but not in amusement. “You’re like an addict.”

She frowned, her joy dissipating. “Zach, that’s out of line.”

“Look around you.” He leaned in, his voice earnest. “Nobody else is so obsessed, even the crazy millennials with their constant selfies. Please, Harper, just shut off the camera for one hour.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry if I’m embarrassing you, Zach. My bad,” she snapped at him. “Let me put it away right this second.” She flipped open the camera bag, recapped the lens, and laid the tool softly down in place between the padded barriers. Her stomach flipped with nerves and she felt like crying.

“You’re not embarrassing me, and it wouldn’t matter if you were.” He shook his head. “It’s more that… When you’re taking pictures, you’re not present.” He hesitated. “Or you’re only present in little snatches of time, here and there, in between pictures. And I was hoping, I guess, that we could actually enjoy this dinner. Talking to each other face to face, not through your lens. Friends. Like you wanted.”

Her face was hot and her heart raced. She felt the words tumble around, and her body stiffened up. “I don’t think that’s really fair, Zach. We talk a lot, okay? Don’t we? So what if I take pictures?”

“What if I was on my phone every other second? Wouldn’t that bother you?”

“No.”

“It wouldn’t? What if we were talking, and I kept saying, ‘Oh, just a sec, hold that thought,’ and did stuff on my phone. All the time. That wouldn’t frustrate you even a little bit?”

“It’s not the same.” She snapped the words, frustrated with her inability to explain. “The phone is just a tool. It’s work, it’s business, it’s whatever. My camera, it’s like, part of my body. It’s my soul.”

He rolled his eyes. “That may be, but you are using it as a distraction and honestly, I find it a little offensive.”

“Well, you know what’s offensive?” She crossed her arms. “The fact that you flirt with every fucking girl around. The greeter girl. The server. The way you looked at her ass. I know you’re probably going to fuck her later, okay? You know what? You use sex as your own distraction, Zach. No, you do! Let me finish. You do. You’re constantly scoping out women and sizing them up and fitting them into your schedule for a temporary fling. And don’t you think that’s offensive to me? I’m here, okay? I’m here, and I’m perfectly valuable as a dinner partner and a friend and a whatever. But you keep looking around and finding other people who are worth more of your time. So no wonder I’m always picking up my camera.”

She stared at her plate, appetite completely gone, feeling sick. “I hate fighting. Why are you fighting with me?” she pleaded, knowing it was maybe unfair to blame it all on him.

“I’m not fighting with you.” But his raised voice didn’t agree with his words.

“You are. You want my full attention because you can’t stand it when a woman doesn’t fawn all over you and toss her panties at your head.”

“That’s not true!” Heads turned, and he lowered his voice. “Now that’s totally unfair, Harper. Do you really think I’m that unprofessional?”

“You’re fine when you’re not being a dick.” She shook her head. “But out in public, when you’re not work-Zach, and you’re regular Zach, it’s different. Or times like this, when I’m sure what you are, whether you’re work-Zach or regular friend-Zach or something else. That’s when it gets weird.”

He swallowed. “I don’t like that you assume things about me because of my sex life, Harper.”

“Well, I don’t like that you assume things about me because of my photography life.”

“For the record, I don’t even sleep with as many people as you think.”

“I don’t care how many it is.”

“I mean, I’m not with someone new every night.” He sounded mad. “And I don’t take advantage, Harper. If I spend the night with someone, it’s absolutely mutual and we part with respect and no hard feelings. I make it clear upfront about expectations, and she does, too. And it’s not someone new every night. That is an unfair, gross exaggeration.”

“It’s not about the absolute number, Zach. It’s the attitude.”

“What do you mean, the attitude?”

She shrugged. “Just—like you’re spending your free time looking for a hookup and you’re not interested in getting to know someone on a personal level if they’re not a potential sex partner. Even if you don’t plan to hook up? The fact that you’re constantly scoping and watching, it’s really irritating. I hate it.”

“That’s the vibe you get from me?” He seemed incredulous, angry, surprised.

“Maybe.”

“Well, fuck, Harper. You know what? You know what your vibe is? If it can’t be photographed, it’s worthless. People are only valuable to you insofar as their photogenicity.”

“That’s not a real word. And that is so not true. It’s not!” She wasn’t sure if she was pleading with him or with herself.

They both fell silent. She chewed dry skin on her lip and glowered at the wine. He sat stiff, gazing off out the window.

Chapter 15

Finally, he turned back, his voice formal. “I apologize for what I said. It was out of line. I’m grateful you’re taking pictures for my company, and I shouldn’t have commented on your attitude.”

She shook her head.

“Harper, I swear, I am sorry.” He sounded genuine. “I want to be your friend, and I hate knowing that I hurt you just now. That was absolutely not my intent. I only wanted to point out—you know, let me just leave it at I’m sorry.”

“Fine.” She didn’t look at him. “I think I’d like to go back to the hotel.”

He nodded. “I’ll call an Uber.”

They stood apart for a minute, waiting, and suddenly the cute man she’d bumped into in the lobby approached her. They’d exchanged a smile, then he’d introduced himself, and there had been a tiny flicker of interest. Then she’d gone out back to take pictures of that couple by the art wall, and forgotten about him. But now he was back.

“Hey, hi,” he began. “We met earlier.”

He was handsome, tall with dark hair, and although he lacked the driving intensity of Zach, he had the looks that drew her in at first glance.

“Hi.” She smiled back, encouraged at Zach’s scowl. “Harper, remember?”

“I do.” He gave her a charming grin. “So I don’t know how long you’re in town, but do you want exchange numbers?”

“Sure.” She allowed him to send his info to her phone. “Mike, right?”

He looked pleased. “Yup. It was great to meet you. Hope to talk to you soon.”

He waved and took off with his friends, one of them giving him a good-natured shove and a comment that had them all laughing.

Standing outside, on the pavement with glowing, chattering people, all black eyelashes and lilting laughter and expensive cologne, she felt isolated and small. Beside her, Zach was quiet.

They didn’t say a word until they walked down the gravel path to the cottage, and then he finally spoke.

His voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat. “Maybe you have a point about me. Maybe I do tend to focus too much on momentary pleasure, and miss opportunities to get to know people as friends. Okay? Lately, I can see… maybe you’re not as wrong as I wanted to think.”

“What?” Of all the things he could say, this was the least likely.

“And maybe I’d get more out of life if I did try to connect with people, even with no expectation or even the possibility of a liaison.”

“Zach.” At his admission, all the anger drained away and she was flooded with guilt. “I should not have said that. I’m really sorry. It’s not my place, not at all. I was out of line, too.”

“No, it’s all right. But if I’m being honest, can you be honest, too? Do you think there’s even a small chance that you, just sometimes, use your camera as a barrier, too, to avoid intimacy?” His eyes met hers evenly. “The way I brought it up was shitty, I recognize that. But it’s honestly something I was thinking, and with another friend, like a guy friend or something, I would have said it. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But I wanted to ask.”

“Zach, how should I know? I’m no psychiatrist. All I know is that I feel better when the camera is in my hands. I feel like I belong places. If I have the camera, I feel safe, okay? Is that so bad?”

“It’s not bad,” he said. “Just, maybe, you might enjoy yourself more. Well, in a different way.”

“You think I should hook up more, like you do?” The words came out half snapped, half laughed.

He shook his head, but then tilted it. “Not hook up for the sake of hooking up, no. But maybe get to know people without the camera. Maybe more hookups would be a good start. I don’t really know what I’m saying. I’m going to make you angrier.”

“No, I’m not angry anymore.” She wasn’t mad, maybe thoughtful, melancholy. “But you know that you’d be asking me to change something fundamental about my personality. I don’t think it comes that easily. If at all.”

“I suppose not,” he said. “But your critique of me, that’s a sort of integral change, too, isn’t it? In how I relate to people and the world? It would be just as difficult for me to adjust that about myself.”

“I guess the ultimate point is whether any of us want to change,” she said slowly. “I mean, if I’m happy taking pictures all the time, why would I change for you?”

His face looked flushed. “It wouldn’t be for me, though, Harper. I was only suggesting it because I—well, I like you. I offer advice to my friends.”

“Your friends must love you.” She mimicked him. “Don, you’re great and all, but let me tell you all the ways you suck.”

He laughed. “I guess I’m lucky that my friends and I can be blunt as fuck and still get along.”

“Well, my advice for you wasn’t to make me happier. I just figured, maybe you’d get more out of life, too. Okay? My advice was offered in a friendly way, too. A very pissed off, adversarial yet ultimately friendly fashion.” She grinned, then it faded. “I guess you might have a very small point. Very small,” she emphasized when he smiled. “It is possible that a very small percentage of the time, I possibly take pictures to avoid social situations. But it’s really all tied up in my love for photography, too, so it’s impossible to extricate, you know?”

“Well, I don’t hook up to avoid other kinds of intimacy… not really,” he countered. “Not all the time. And it’s hard to separate that, too. I mean, it’s very different. But I admit that I do tend to seek out the possibilities, everywhere I go. And that it can be hurtful to the person I’m currently with.”

They were quiet for a few seconds, then Zach touched her arm. “Just, listen. What if we make a pact. For the rest of this trip, you don’t pick up the camera once. And I won’t flirt or hook up with anyone. We’ll just try to… hang out. Both of us. Focus on friendship without distractions. What do you think?”

“But I have to pick up the camera,” she argued immediately. “I have to go back to Llama Lady for more information! I have so many more pictures I need to get.”

“But what additional pictures could you possibly get?” he said, his voice urgent. “You already got it all! Harold in the store, Harold hugging her. Harold on his couch. Harold eating the other guest’s handbag. I mean, what on Earth could top what you have? Don’t you already have like a million pictures of Harold? Are you even going to use one of them in the article?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know what I’ll use. But I want to have every possibility covered. What if something amazing happens and I don’t have the camera to capture it?”

“But what if you didn’t bring it at all, and you just talked to her? And tried to write down her ideas and built a picture with words?”

“Do you realize how weird that sounds?” She crossed her arms. “You hired me specifically to take pictures for you. Lots and lots of pictures. And you’re paying me a huge amount of money for it. So now, to hear you say, while I’m still on the payroll, that I should stop doing my job? It’s confusing at best.”

He threw up his hands. “I know that. I know it! It’s—look, you’ve shown me all the shots. Or maybe not even all of them. Maybe ten percent. And fuck it, I’m happy. I’m delighted. I’m done. Harper, okay? As far as I am concerned, you have more than completed your entire contract. I have every single picture I needed, in multiple versions. I have more than enough! Way more. I’m satisfied.”

“So I’m done. I can put on my bikini and laze around in the pool allll day long and do nothing, and still get paid?” she challenged him, her eyes flashing. “For real?”

“Yeah, Harper. That’s exactly what I want you to do. Show me that you can exist without that camera for three days. Okay? Just three days, until Friday. You think you can do it?” His voice was full of arrogant challenge.

She bit her lip. “Fine. If you really want to pay me to do nothing, I’m down for that. But if I do that, and I’m not saying I will, then you can’t be all God’s gift to the vagina for every cute woman that comes in. No more of the, hey baby, I modeled in my youth and shit.” She frowned at him. “No implying that your penis is longer than Harold’s. No more of, let me touch your pretty ass because you got me a better table, and hey, let’s fuck tonight maybe if I don’t have other plans, but let me lock you in and have you wait for me and I’ll decide if I call you or not.”

“Uh, yeah.” He looked a little red. “That’s fair.”

“Were you going to get together with Luna?”

“Harper, come on,” he countered.

“Well, did you lay the groundwork?”

“Define groundwork.” He crossed his arms.

“Did you exchange numbers, talk about relationship status, and discuss what time she gets off. Pun intended.”

“Perhaps,” he acknowledged, “some of that might have occurred.”

“And you obviously told her that I wasn’t a date, because you didn’t want to come across as a total dick.”

“You weren’t my date,” he said quickly. “I mean, not in a romantic sense.”

“I know.” She sighed. “But see? Everywhere we go, you meet someone. A woman. It’s just… ugh. All the time.”

“But they don’t all turn into liaisons,” he argued. “In fact, tonight wasn’t going to happen with her because I… well, it just wasn’t. In fact, if you want to know, I haven’t—ah. But I guess I liked the option.” He spoke slowly. “If you must know, it feels good to know that someone is interested. That if I don’t want to be alone one night, I don’t have to be. It doesn’t mean that I sleep with everyone I talk to, though. Okay?”

She nodded. “Okay. I understand that.”

“I really want you to get what I’m saying, though.” He rubbed his face. “I like sex, okay, I do. But the flirting isn’t about that entirely. You were right. I like to lock people in as potentials, because that way I feel… not so lonely. Or to know that I’ve still got it, whatever it is, the thing that makes me appealing to people. I want to feel that I haven’t lost my ability to, I guess, connect. Because someday, when I meet that perfect person… not that I believe in a perfect person. But if I ever did, I’d want to be—The thing is, although I may not be looking for love, I sometimes just need someone. Jesus. That makes me sound like a fucking loser.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She felt a sudden sympathy. “I think it makes you sound human.”

“So I guess I wouldn’t mind trying not to stockpile for a while.” He laughed. “If you can keep your hands off your camera.”

“Okay. But I’m bringing the camera in the car,” she announced. “If I go places. I just won’t use it, but it’s only fair that it gets to be close to me. After all, you’re bringing your tool along for the ride, even if you won’t be whipping it out.”

He laughed out loud. “Harper. Seriously?”

“So, do we have a deal?”

He stuck out his hand.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this. This is insane.” But she took his hand. “Fine. No unnecessary pictures and no hookups. For the rest of the trip.”

“Okay. No pictures and no unnecessary hookups.”

“No! You’re already cheating!” She widened her eyes and punched his arm. “Zach, come on.”

“I never cheat,” he said immediately, his eyes darkening.

“Okay, fine. But if you cheat and hook up even once, I get to take pictures again, as many as I want. If you even act like you’re going to hook up! If you even get a number.”

“And if you cheat and take pictures, I get to hook up, with anyone I want,” he countered. “Or if you even pick up the camera and point it at somebody, I get at least a kiss. Although, like I pointed out before, and I’d like to clarify again for the record: I do not hook up nearly as often as you seem to think I do. I’m just saying that I get the option, if you cheat. Okay?”

“Fine, I suppose. Maybe we should set a penalty price.” She grinned at him.

“You can make the penalty a hundred thousand dollars if you want. I’m golden.” He grinned back.

“We’ll see.” She gave him a smug look. “Don’t get too cocky there.”

“That’s the point, right? I’m not supposed to get cocky. Pun intended.”

“Oh my God. You’re going to drive me insane.” She rolled her eyes.

“See? All this chitting and chatting. I feel myself getting deeper into the joys of pure friendship by the second.”

“As long as you don’t try to store your newfound depth in anyone else’s deep end,” she said. “Pun intended.”

He laughed. “Good night, Harper.”

“You, too.”

Chapter 16

“Plans today?” Zach eyed her camera case. “To cheat, perhaps, already, only what—one hour into our bargain?”

“Don’t give me that look. I’m just keeping the camera clean, Zach. It doesn’t mean I’m taking a picture. Today, I’m going to see Elle again, to ask a few more questions about Harold. For the article.”

“Aha.”

“I need to find out more about what she does. I’m completely intrigued by her. And God, did you see how fast her cutesie stuff sold when the Japanese tourists came through? They love her!”

“You know that cuteness is a real thing in Japan, right?”

“What?” Harper pulled the lens cap out of her bag and snapped it onto the lens. “Oh, yeah. Yes. The whole kawaii phenomenon. Yup.”

“It’s more than a phenomenon, though. It’s a part of the Japanese cultural identity right now. If you Google Kawaii Japan, you’ll see that it pervades every walk of life. You’ll see grown men and women bowing to their one-day Hello Kitty mascot manager at the start of a shift at the department store. You’ll see grown women—who have serious professional jobs—dressed in the cutest Lolita-meets-Disney-meets-Steampunk outfits you’ve ever seen, on the time off. You’ll find Hello Kitty toilets and adorable robots. It’s everywhere. Not like in the US, where cuteness is prized by teens and grown women nostalgic for their own teenage years.”

“It does seem very pervasive. I wonder why?”

“Well, I read an article recently; one scientist thinks there might be a benefit to productivity, did you know that?”

“How’s that?” Harper carefully stowed the camera into the case. “Bye, baby.” She gave the machine a mournful look as she attached the lid, and blew it a kiss. “I’ll miss you.”

Zach rolled his eyes and snorted, then said, “They found that students improved their performance of fine-motor-dexterity tasks and nonvisual searches after viewing images of cute puppies and kittens. They advocated putting cute things into workplaces to enhance general productivity. So maybe Japanese society is ahead of the game with their focus on kawaii.”

“So you need to buy a ton of little unicorns and squishy balls and put them all over your office.” She laughed, then frowned. “But they don’t just focus on kawaii, though. That’s new, right? Just the past few decades?”

He nodded, so she continued. “Japan’s known for finding beauty in simplicity and imperfection, too. The haiku—the perfectly spare poem. Calligraphy—the perfect lines, no more, no less. Wabi-sabi. Kintsukuroi, the way they fix broken pottery with veins of gold. That’s the diametric opposite of cute. Don’t you think it’s odd that a nation that is the world model for spare, austere beauty, for wasting nothing, for the delicacy of geishas and tea ceremonies, also produces a billion Pikachus and has them dance in throngs at professional events? It’s like they have these two diametric opposites, and they love them both.”

Zach nodded. “Maybe the deep cultural appreciation for art and beauty is what allows them to also cherish the surface silliness of cute things. I sometimes wonder if the post-war attitude has something to do with it, too.”

“You mean the need to lose yourself in something cute because your soul is dead and black after the horror of a bomb exploded in your city? Not an individual soul. I mean the soul of the entire country, so to speak. Maybe they need the levity as a population to stay sane.”

He grimaced. “Maybe. I don’t know. Germany certainly had cultural changes and anxieties after the war.”

“Well, isn’t it true that in Japan, conformity is prized as you get older, and it’s important to sometimes subvert your personal desires for the good of a company or a family or your boss?”

“It’s been said, yes.”

“Maybe people cling to cute things, cherish them, really, because they represent the freedom of youth. The ability to be yourself, do what you want. The need not to conform, to be forced into a pattern that’s prepared for you. Or that you prepared for yourself, based on what you think you need to do to be successful in your world.”

“That’s interesting. You should visit Japan someday. You’ve never been, right?”

She shook her head, no.

“I’d like to see it with you.” He started, as if surprised at his own words, and bit his lip. Then he continued, “I think you’d love seeing it. It would be fun to hear your ideas.”

“Well, maybe next time we take a trip to Hawaii, we’ll accidentally crash land in Tokyo. I look forward to that day.” She shuddered.

“That would be one confused pilot,” Zach laughed, putting a hand on her arm.

“Or fast.”

Later, she drove back to Not Your Mama’s Llama and found Elle behind the counter, Harold-less this time.

“Hi!” She came in with two cups of coffee and a bag of carrots. “I stopped at the grocery store for treats. I Googled it and they said llamas like these, so… I gambled.”

Elle examined the offerings. “Are they organic?”

“Ah, no.”

“I usually feed him organic snacks.”

“I see.” Harper blinked.

“But I’ll make an exception.” Elle smiled and pulled the plastic bag closer. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You said I could come back, so here I am. I wanted to just… ask a few more questions about your shop.”

“Okay.”

“So, I can ask?”

Elle nodded.

“Okay! So what made you decide, hey, I need to open a store dedicated to llamas. What was it that made you pull the trigger?”

Elle thought. “Well, I used to work in a different industry entirely. I did eighty-hour weeks and still felt like I was treading water, not getting anywhere. It wasn’t what I loved to do, although it paid satisfactorily, even well. And as a woman in the computer science industry, I felt like I was doing a service. But it felt stale.”

“You were in comp sci?”

“Programming, yes.” Elle swallowed a sip of coffee. “Oh, this is good. Programming, because it was a good job, but all my life I’d been interested in things like theater and psychology. I could have gone back to school, I suppose, but I didn’t want to. So I started researching other ideas. And I met Maroki, who told me about how the businesses on his tour stops do really well. And it all came together. I had another llama back then, Esther. She was a gift from my ex. A parting gift.”

“That’s an unusual parting gift.”

“He was an unusual man.” Elle’s face softened. “At first, the store was just an Arizona-themed gift shop and it did well catching tourists on the way back from the casino. And as I learned what people like, I started refining my merch. One day, people started asking about Esther, and whether they could see her house—and that’s how the whole llama idea was born. It turns out I got to combine my love of acting and my interest in psychology to create a whole new persona. Eventually I developed my llama empire. And here I am today.” She waved her hand. “There you have it.”

Harper sighed. “I wish I could do that.”

“Why, are you not happy with your career?”

“No, I am! I love my career. I just wish—I don’t know. That I had the courage to do crazy and wild things just because I’m tired of my own status quo.”

“Why can’t you?” Elle’s voice was surprised. “Nothing stopping you.”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I want to do. Just that I want that ability.”

“Everyone has the ability. Not everyone takes advantage of it.”

“Maybe.” Harper sipped her coffee. “But that first moment. That time when you first decided, hell, I’m going to quit my job and sell llama stuff. How did that feel?”

Elle considered this. “It was terrifying. And freeing. You know, I’d have had a find life if I stayed. Trying the exciting path meant a big risk. It might be a rush and it might end in disaster. But I figured that I still had my old skills, those weren’t going away. I could find a job somewhere in the world in CS again, if I needed to. So I just jumped.”

“Just like that.”

“Sort of. The decision was a jump. Then the change itself, my life morphing from computer science engineer into this, was a long slow progression. And that part wasn’t scary at all, but fun. It was just that initial trigger pull that was the scary thing.”

“So you recommend that to others? Making a jump?”

“I’m not a life coach, Harper.” Elle sounded irritable. “I can’t divine the right choice for everyone. In fact, in many cases, I’d say don’t jump, if the risk is too big. Say, if you need your health coverage from work. Or if you’re jumping from a nice six-figure income to living in a cardboard box in the ocean. You have to be sensible about it, too, you know.”

“No, of course. This part is off the record. Not for the article. Like say, I wanted to try something crazy. It would probably be a good idea?”

“Only you know that.”

“Yeah.” Harper fiddled with her coffee. “So… I was talking to my, to Zach, you know, that guy from the other day. The one who commented on Harold’s, you know. That guy.”

“Uh huh.” Elle examined Harper’s face. “I remember him.”

“We were talking about Japan and the kawaii phenomenon. Do you think you’d be in trouble financially if Maroki ever decided to take you off his tour stop?”

“Off the record?”

“Yes, okay.”

“I pay Maroki handsomely to keep me on his tour route.”

“Like a bribe?”

“Absolutely not.” Elle’s voice was disapproving. “Harper, that would be unethical. I’m talking more about two esteemed colleagues exchanging gifts. Maroki respects me and thinks I have something valuable to offer to his clients, because they rave about me, so he brings them here on the way back from the casino trip. I, in turn, value and respect Maroki’s kind gesture, and I offer him a gift of money in return.”

“Oh, yes, that’s quite different.” Harper smiled.

Elle laughed. “I cater to American tourists, too. When he’s not doing the Happy Lucky tours, Maroki does the See AZ Native Style tours, and his name is Rodrigo on those days. It turns out that Americans love to buy souvenirs and trinkets, especially if they’re marketed the right way with the right amount of quirk. That’s what I provide, in my persona and my ambience.” She waved a hand around. “They’re paying for the experience, for the stories they’ll tell when they show their five hundred cell phone snapshots to their friends about their weird bitchy lady and her llama best friend. It’s a goldmine, Harper. And it’s a hell of a lot of fun. I still haven’t tired of it, and I’m sixty-seven next month.”

“That’s really awesome.”

“Walk with me? I need to get Harold from the field and take him back to his shed because it’s getting really hot right now.”

“Sure.” They walked over together, the sun beating down, and Elle unfastened Harold’s lead from a stake in the grassy enclosure. She watched as Elle led Harold to a red shed instead of to the little cottage with the rustic sign that read Harold’s House. “Wait, I thought we were going to his house.”

“This is his house. His real one, that is.” Elle opened the door, revealing a large stall with hay, water tubs, and a cooling system. “He has his own cooler in here, and a plastic-sheet-strip door to go into his yard.”

“But this other house?” She pointed back to the cute cottage with the blue roof.

“Off the record? For tourists.” Elle rolled her eyes. “Do you think I’d really make a llama live in a silly house with a couch and a TV? Please, Harper.”

“But you made such a big deal out of it.” Harper was dumbfounded. “And there was hay and water in there, too, right?”

“Well, that’s—off the record—so much better for publicity.” Elle smiled brightly. “But I’d never make an animal like Harold live in uncomfortable circumstances. Even though he can be a total asshole.”

“But you love Harold!”

“I love what Harold does for my business,” corrected Elle, removing the harness and patting the llama on his side. “And I think he’s pretty okay.” She closed the door the stall and hung the harness on a wooden peg. “So. What do you think?”

“I think you’re a very savvy businesswoman.”

“Thank you. I try. And right now my store is considered funky and off-the-beaten-track. Odd in a cool way. But not too big and commercial yet. And I’m gonna ride that wave as far as I can.” She zoomed her hand like a wave. “Usually, though, I don’t come clean to anyone about quirk being my façade. I just let them think that’s all there is.”

“Why did you tell me?”

Chapter 17

Elle tilted her head. “Sometimes you want to tell someone something,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “You have a secret, and it needs to be shared. It’s like it’s not as much fun when it’s hidden away for so long. And anyway, after seeing hundreds of people each week for years, I have a pretty good sense of who I can trust.”

“What about me says I can be trusted? I mean, I’m not saying I can’t be trusted. Just—why me?” Pleased and confused at once, Harper looked at Elle.

“I guess I can’t put it into words,” Elle said, after a pause. “It’s just a gut feel I got when I looked into your eyes. Okay, I teased you a little bit first for fun, the first visit, gave you the full ‘Elle Experience.’ But after a few minutes, I could just feel that you were all right.”

“But everyone tries to come across as all right.” Harper wanted to know what it was, what elusive gesture, what flicker of the eyes, what was the thing that had convinced Elle that she, Harper, was all right?

“Have you ever heard of a chicken sexer?”

“What is that?”

“A chicken sexer. In the chicken processing plant, there are experts who can look at a baby chick and tell instantly if it’s a male or female. It’s important to separate them out early to save money.”

“Ah, okay.”

“But it’s incredibly hard to tell them apart, like crazy hard. And it’s even harder to describe the differences in a way that people can understand. It can take up to three years to get good enough to develop 95% accuracy at the necessary speed, which is a chick every seven seconds.”

“Wow.”

“In Japan, where chicken sexing originated, here’s how they’d train newbies. The new person had two bins, male and female. They’d examine the chick, and pick a bin, male or female. The expert, watching over their shoulder, would say simply either yes or no. Instead of trying to show them the differences, or make charts or graphs, they’d just make the person look and guess, and say yes or no. And this was the quickest, most effective way to train new people. Over time, just hearing the expert say yes or no to their guesses, they quickly learned the differences and could sort with nearly 100% accuracy on their own.”

“That’s incredibly strange.” Harper was fascinated.

“There are minuscule differences in their genitalia, but you can’t just read a manual and start sorting them without errors. You have to develop a kind of second sense, the ability to look at something and know for certain whether it’s male or female even if you can’t put into words exactly why. You might not know in the instant why you’re putting a chick into the bin marked female, but you know you’re right.”

“How can you do it and not know how you do it?”

“Because the human brain can learn complex pattern recognition very quickly and divert that knowledge to be used in the decision-making part of the brain before the logical part of the brain catches up.”

“And you’re going to tie that back into trusting me with your secrets?”

“Well, that’s how I know who I can trust. I just… know. I can’t tell you how or why, just that I do. And so far I haven’t been wrong very often.”

“So you chicken-sexed me. I see.” Harper smiled. “I feel honored. Maybe you should start a side business helping out the local chicken industries.”

“Eh, no. Smelly and messy.” Elle waved her hand. “And I have enough trouble keeping Harold clean.”

“It would be quirky though,” Harper reminded her.

Elle laughed. “Maybe too much. But somehow I recognized you as someone who’d appreciate the truth of my Harold.”

“You don’t think other people would?”

“I don’t think most people really care, or think about it beyond a funny experience,” Elle said. “It’s just something silly and weird to do, and they don’t want to look deeper, because the surface fun is really all they want. So it’s surface fun I provide.”

“Well, it’s probably safe that way,” agreed Harper. “Otherwise people might lose interest, if they found out you were providing surface-quirk instead of deep-down-in-the-heart quirk.”

“Your boss quirky?” Elle raised an eyebrow.

“If by quirky, you mean flirty? Then, yes. Yes, he is.” Harper shrugged. “Why?”

“Just curious.” Elle regarded her.

“I mean, who brags to strange women that he’s more built than a llama?” Harper rolled her eyes. “And somehow makes that attractive to the woman he’s hitting on?”

“Are you and him…” Elle waved her hand. “Did you ever…?”

“Why do you ask?” Harper touched her cheek.

“I don’t know. Maybe the way you looked at him. The way he looked at you.”

“How was that? The way he looked at me?” Harper stopped and looked at Elle’s face. “How did he look at me?” She noticed her intensity and smiled, twisted a piece of hair. “Sorry. Just, I mean, I’m just curious.”

“He looked at you like he wanted to burn you up with his gaze.” Elle’s voice was soft. “And I haven’t seen a man look at me that way in a very long time.” She sighed.

“Well, but—” Harper didn’t know how to respond. “There’s really no possibility for us, though. We’re not suited.”

Elle gave a noncommittal head bob. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. Life is strange sometimes. I suppose we make the best of it as we can.”

Harper struggled to focus on something other than herself. “So, are you dating anyone?”

“No.” But a little sly smile spread across Elle’s face. “But there’s someone at the bulk feed store where I get the dried alfalfa for Harold. We have a little flirtation going on.”

“Is he a farmer?”

Elle snorted. “No. He comes into the feed store for a snack on his lunch break.”

“Elle, please tell me that he’s not also a llama?”

Elle laughed. “It’s a feed store for animals that also has a lunch counter for humans. My guy is a retired policeman. It’s called Reza’s Animal and Human Feed Shack. But the ‘and human’ is written in Sharpie onto the original sign. It’s a local thing. A funky local place.”

“Oh my God. I should visit them, too for my article!” Harper got excited.

“Well, the food’s not that great, and it’s not very photogenic. I come in once a week for Harold’s snack, even though I have to drive thirty miles to get there. And Eric is there at noon on Fridays, so I come at noon on Fridays. And we eat a human snack together. And talk about our lives.”

“That’s… sweet.”

“Every time, I hope he’s going to ask me to have sex in his parked car.”

Harper spit out her saliva. “Whaaaa?!”

Elle smiled beatifically. “We could play criminal and cop. It could be a lot of fun.”

“So you are seeing him. And you do get the laser eye thing, whatever,” Harper said, waving her hand in the manner of what she thought a laser might look like.

“Oh, I don’t know…” Elle’s voice trailed off. “We get along just fine. But I’m not sure.” She pursed her lips. “Whether it means anything or not.” She shrugged. “Like I said. We make the best of it, right?”

“But if he meets you at the store, on purpose, every time you come? That sounds pretty serious to me.”

Elle looked at her. “I’ll know that look when I see it, and I haven’t seen it from him yet. Nor have we been on a real date. I know all about his grandchildren, but not about the color of his front room. I’m not getting younger, Harper.”

“Oh.” Harper nodded. She thought about kisses on airplanes, kisses that meant the entire world compressed into his lips and a few seconds of time, all of her life meeting all of his. And then, this. Him in the llama store, flirting with a cute young tourist. Her with sweaty hair and a decidedly non-kawaii shirt, yearning for something that didn’t exist inside him, and might never. A strange bargain that took them farther away from physical intimacy.

Feeling a sudden kinship with Elle, she touched the woman’s arm. “If I had a drink right now, I’d toast to laser gazes from the men who matter,” she said, and lifted her hand.

“Make it a margarita,” said Elle. She smiled. “I’d toast to that.”

“So how was your day without photographs?” Zach, lounging beside the pool, was undeniably sexy. His abs glistened in the sun, and his tan skin looked delicious. Harper could barely resist getting on top of him and running her hands down his chiseled torso.

“It was good. You’ll never believe the conversation I had with Elle.” She flipped out her towel, and sat on a deck chair beside him.

“Harold’s mom?” He looked over at her, and his eyes seemed to study her curves. A muscle clenched in his jaw.

She laughed. “Yeah. She’s not as weird as she seems. It’s all a big act.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Totally serious. She spilled her whole life story to me. But all off the record, of course.” She leaned back, liking the way his eyes focused on her body as she did so.

“Of course.”

“It was fun. I think going without the camera allowed me to be more open. And her, too. Maybe just me. I don’t know. I might be making that up because I want my days without photographs to be meaningful and awesome, so if they are, I’m going to assign all of the blame, or accolades, as the case may be, to the fact that I’m photo-free. Even if one didn’t really cause the other, I’m going to pretend.”

“Isn’t that a logical fallacy?” He smirked at her. “Not that I want to disabuse you of your theory.”

“Yes!” She nodded. “I went without my camera, and afterwards I had a great conversation with Elle. Therefore, the great conversation must be due to the fact that I didn’t bring my camera.”

He laughed. “I wore my lucky jersey, and then my team won. Therefore, my team must have won because I wore the lucky jersey.”

“I’m glad you recognize that one as false.” She smiled.

“Oh, here’s one. You on the plane: ‘I gripped Zach’s hand hard enough to deflate it, and we landed safely. Therefore, the fact that I gripped his hand must be the reason we landed safely.’ You’ll be doing that every time.”

“Actually Talia suggested… ah, never mind.” She flushed.

“She suggested what?” He looked up, alert.

“Nothing really.” She wasn’t going to tell him about the “just have Zach stick his tongue down your throat when you fly to keep you safe,” discussion, now that they were just friends and all.

She looked as his ripped abs gleaming in the late afternoon soon and rued that decision. Why could her hormones and her brain not get on the same page? Jesus. Why was it so hard for her brain to just accept the fact that this man was not in the line-up for the near future, and it was a good idea to stop lusting after him?

He was watching her, too; her bikini looked good, and she knew it did. She’d been working out a lot the last few months and she was proud of her muscles and trim physique. Clearly, his brain wasn’t totally accepting the “buds” message either.

But the alternative—a night of passion and then a shit-ton of messy clean-up—was that worth it?

“So how did you do on your flirt-free routine? Did you manage? Be honest.” She gave him a stare.

“I flirted with nobody,” he said, “including Carlos, Jeremy, and Marielle.” He raised an eyebrow. “I was the master of class and respectful conversational without leading anyone on to think there was anything more promised.”

“That must have been disappointing for at least one of them.” Harper was thinking of Marielle.

“Jeremy sobbed, but I told him that he’d find someone new soon,” said Zach, and they both laughed, because they’d discovered that Jeremy—a devoted husband and father—spent significant amounts of time on the phone with his young wife, whispering endearments in Spanish that sounded really dirty, even if you didn’t speak Spanish fluently.

“And was it fulfilling in a way that you’ve never before experienced?” She was being sort of playful and sarcastic, but she was curious, too.

He shrugged. “I suppose I felt more honest, not flirting with Marielle. I was friendly, but not flirty like you saw the other day. And she got the message and it was more, maybe relaxed. But I mean, it was one short conversation. I can’t really say that I feel very different, no.”

“Well, it’s only one day. Rome wasn’t built in one.”

“True. Although, what am I building here, again? I forget.”

“You’re constructing the opportunity to relate to people through your personality, not just by dangling the possibility of sex with you in front of their eyes.”

“The thing is, isn’t that an integral part of life, relating to people through the allure of sex?”

“To some degree, of course.” She thought. “Obviously. Sexual attraction is what keeps the world going ‘round, right? People have to be attracted to others, and find potential mates, and test out potential mates, and all that. So sex is a fundamental part of our society at its core. Sex, because of procreation. We love it. And in our modern times, it’s not taboo anymore to have sex whenever we want, so people can indulge.”

“Right.”

“It’s just that there’s more to life than that. Why do we write poetry and build skyscrapers and learn about the mysteries of ocean trenches? Why do we chart the stars and learn about the oddities of the brain, and polish gems from the middle of the earth?”

“Still sex.” He gave a wry laugh. “Sex and death.”

“I used to think that every single impulse in the entire world, every emotion—whether it be love, or hate, or anger, every war, every kiss—it was all fear of death.” She picked up her drink and watched the ripples in the pool as a wasp landed on the surface and darted away.

“Maybe it is.” He sounded melancholy now.

“Because every single thing we do, isn’t it all about extending our life? If we’re good to our child, it’s to enable our genes to continue into the future. If we’re nice to another person, it’s a selfish motivation at core; being nice to them guarantees them to be nice back to us, which in turn enhances survival, whether it’s because they’ll share food or make us laugh, which increases the happy chemicals in our brain that allow us to better adapt to this world and in turn to live longer.”

“Even Mother Teresa, selfish?”

“Of course! She’s the ultimate example, but she represents a higher level of it, a more adapted version. Some people do it on a stupid, animal basic level. She elevated it to an art. By caring for the sick and poor, she was helping to extend their lives, and showing the world that we can all survive better together than apart. She was a role model for why we band together into teams, into societies, a reminder of why humans work better together. She was reminding us to fix the gears and cogs in our broken-down machinery of humanity. But because we all benefit from it.”

He reached out and took her hand. “I have never talked about this with anyone before, outside of a philosophy class in undergrad.”

She squeezed his fingers, warm from the sun. “I know. Me, too.”

“They should add that to the thirty-six questions. In which ways is Mother Teresa a selfish bitch? Discuss.”

“So you being helpful to me on the plane, was that selfish?”

“All I knew in that moment was that I wanted to help you.” He sounded genuine. “If it was selfish, and according to our conversation it clearly was on some level, it still meant that I wanted to make you feel better. That part was real.”

“Because you wanted to stock me up as a potential conquest for a future night when you might be lonely?”

“No.” His answer was immediate, his voice firm. “It was more than that, Harper.” The look in his eyes, so serious, made her suddenly shy, and also nervous to continue this thread of conversation, afraid of where it might lead.

She laughed and her fingers, taut from the distance, pulled out of his. “You’re too far away.” The words came without thought.

“Come closer, then.” He spoke right away, patting the deck chair beside him.

And she did; she got up and sat back down next to him, and he pulled her half on top of him, half beside him, their bodies hot together from the sun, and they lay that way for an hour, breathing together, saying nothing, just letting the sun trace shadowy patterns over their bodies, and the slight breeze ruffle their hair.

Chapter 18

“So you’re actually going out with that guy from Barrio Café, Mike?” He sounded incredulous and disappointed.

“You were the one who told me to hook up more,” she retorted.

“I didn’t say that,” he corrected. “Or I didn’t mean with him.” He frowned. “He looked like a player.”

“Zach, you didn’t even talk to him. You only saw him for like five seconds.”

“That’s enough time to get a first impression. I thin-sliced him.”

“Oh, you did, like ham?”

“Like Malcolm Gladwell.”

“Is that a kind of ham?”

“It’s a kind of modern economist slash philosopher. He says that people do something called thin-slicing when they meet someone new or enter a new situation. Within just a few seconds, using the available information, we are often able to get a very accurate assessment of an individual’s trustworthiness.”

“Oh, I see. So you went all deli clerk on my date and found him lacking.”

“I did.”

“Well, I,” she picked up her purse, “found him to be quite interesting and charming, and we are going out for dinner at Rustler’s Rooste. I will see you later. Remember, no flirting.”

“But you get to?” He crossed his arms.

“No camera.” She held up her hands. “I am completely honoring my end of the bargain. You should, as well. Maybe on your dateless night you can read some books by your philosopher slash economist to keep you busy.”

“I can go on dates. I just can’t do other things, according to you.”

“I can’t believe that you could go on a date and not close it, or even act like you want to close it. Hard for regular guys, impossible for you.”

“I could. In fact, I’m meeting with one of my investment partners tonight for dinner to discuss a future joint venture.”

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes.

“Well, better not bring your camera, or else you’re going to lose our bet.”

“Me? I’ll be just fine.”

“You sure? There are some sweet views from that restaurant. You’re going to die, holding back.” He mimicked holding a camera to his face and clicking.

“Well, is your date cute? Maybe you’ll die holding back.”

“She’s not cute.”

“Oh.”

“She is fucking gorgeous.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Whatever. Fine. Look, I have to get going. The bet is stupid, anyway. Forget about it. It’s dumb. Let’s just not bother.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

They stared at each other, then he softened. “Maybe the problem is that we are both jealous, Harper.” He came closer; when she didn’t back away, he touched her cheek and hair. “Do you think so?”

“Zach, we already talked about this.” But she couldn’t look away. He put both hands on her shoulders and her breath hitched.

“Maybe we’re being ridiculous with this bet,” he said, his voice low. “And the only reason we’re doing it is so we can keep talking about the sex we’re not having with each other. Hmm?”

“I—I don’t know.” Her face felt hot; her stomach fluttered.

“I think about you,” he confessed. “About how it would be with us, Harper.” His eyes were mesmerizing. “And I think you know it, and you do the same.”

“Why do you think that?” she managed, her voice breathy.

“Because you’re leaning in to me right now instead of away,” he whispered, brushing a kiss down her cheek. He pressed his fingers against her wrist. “And your pulse is racing, and your skin is flushed. And when you look at me, you look just a little longer than a person does, when things are truly platonic. Because yesterday you came into my arms when I asked.”

“I just think we would—it wouldn’t work out.”

“You keep saying that. The thing is, I think it would work out. Really, really well. I promise you, I can make you very satisfied, Harper.”

His lips lingered on her neck and she gasped. “I don’t doubt it, Zach. I just, the next day, you know? What then?”

He pulled back. “What do you want to happen then?” His eyes were dark and mysterious, his voice earnest, and for the first time she thought that maybe, just maybe, he wanted more than a simple fling.

“I don’t know. And obviously nobody can predict or promise more than what fate brings. But I want to try with someone who’s at least open to the possibility of a future relationship, no matter what kind it is. I like you too much to want a one-night stand with you, Zach.”

“Harper, I don’t think you’ve really given me a chance,” he said, his hand warm on her arm. “Okay? If you just let me explain, I think we might be more on the same page than you think. Because—”

But a call from her phone interrupted their gaze. “It’s my Uber. He’s waiting at the entrance.”

“Harper, if you want a night of passion, I promise you I can deliver better than your pretty boy Mike.”

“I—I have to go.” Flustered, she pulled away and hurried to the entrance, looking back to find him still staring after her, hands in his pockets.

As she walked up the entryway to the restaurant, she was distracted by the faint but definite smell of manure. Then, to her complete surprise, there was a bull. A real, live, big bull with horns, right there by the entrance.

“Yeek!” She yelped and stepped back, even as she was registering the fact that the bull was in a disturbingly small pen with a wooden fence. “Oh. Hi, there.”

The bull regarded her steadily, then made a snuffing sound. Harper grabbed for her camera bag, then bit her lip. Did the bet even matter anymore? Who cared, really?

But the light wasn’t very good, and the bull wasn’t doing anything especially interesting, other than being a bull, which to him was probably fascinating, but to her was kind of boring. The whole scene was bleak—the kind of thing that didn’t belong in a fun, upbeat photo essay about how cool and unique and awesome Phoenix could be. Rather, it might be better suited to a serious piece about the odd and depressing spectrum of how animals can be revered, enjoyed, tolerated, ignored, abused, mistreated, slaughtered. This animal, although healthy, was still not on the happier part of that curve.

When she stepped into the restaurant, she was greeted with cheerful chatter, clinking of plates from the kitchen, cowboy music, and—a slide? There was a large metal slide, several feet wide, build right into the staircase leading down into the main seating area. Two boys, younger than ten, to her untrained eye, shrieked and ran, one with a runny nose, the other with unlaced shoes, over and over, up the stairs and down the slide.

“Welcome!” A server greeted her. “Table for one?”

“No, I’m meeting someone.” She glanced around. “I don’t think he’s here yet.”

“Well, if you want to get started, I can have Mabel set you up. Just head down and talk to the woman at the podium. Have a wonderful dinner!”

“Thanks. So the slide?”

“Oh, please give it a try, if you’d like.” The server smiled broadly. “It’s one of our favorite features, apart from the view.”

“And the bull?”

“Oh, yes, our bull. Everyone loves him.”

Not everyone, thought Harper, but she smiled and nodded, then got distracted by the view. Oh, so pretty!

From up on this hilltop, the city lights were visible below, sparkling until they tapped out at the edge of the mountains ringing the valley. She put her hand onto her camera bag again, automatically seeking the best vantage point. A close-up of someone on the slide, with the plate glass windows and the view; maybe a couple at dinner, leaning their head together with that glorious view behind them. Soon it would be sunset, and the lights would be perfect—

“Harper, hey, you look amazing.” It was Mike.

“Oh, hi.” She smiled and raised her hand. Mike leaned in and kissed her cheek, leaving a trail of expensive cologne in her nostrils. Too recently applied, it was sharp and acrid and she touched the side of her nose to prevent a sneeze, hoping the particles of scent didn’t get trapped too long and make everything she ate smell like his cologne.

“Thanks. This place looks great.” She adjusted her purse strap and looked around. “What an amazing view.”

“Yeah. So amazing.”

“Yeah.” She opened her mouth to say something more, but nothing came. It was like a faucet whose valve had failed shut. A gate slamming closed, like one of the great cartoon gates with the spikes and bars, diving into the ground and causing a minor earthquake. “Um.”

She was horrified at her lack of words. She was never at a loss. She glanced around rapidly. How was it possible to create entire intricate conversations out of nothing with Zach, out of air, to talk about random things with Elle, and have not a scrap of an idea for Mike?

“Yeah. I love to take people here, when they visit from out of town. Never fails to impress.” He gestured at the lights below. “Behold Phoenix!”

“Yes.”

Together they beheld for several seconds, and Mike put his hand on her arm, his fingers curling in too possessively, a little too tightly, she thought. She moved away with the pretext of looking further down the valley. “Gorgeous. So, hey, should we ask for a table?”

“I have reservations.” Mike grinned. “I asked them to save me the best table by the window. Nothing but the best for the prettiest girl from Chicago.”

Ugh. “Oh, awesome. Thanks.” She held back a wince.

“It really is a great view.”

“Do you ever think about why the city lights flicker when you see them from a distance?”

“When they what?”

“Flicker. You know, sparkle. Lights the way the city of Paris sparkles from the Eiffel Tower. Or even here—see how the lights seem to flicker a little bit down below us in the valley?”

“Oh, I guess I never thought about it, really. Probably an atmospheric thing.” He coughed. “Dirt in the air and such.”

“But isn’t that interesting, the idea that something unwanted, like dirt, can cause something so gorgeous? Like a grain of sand in an oyster makes a pearl.” Her voice gained enthusiasm. “The utility of things that you never knew were useful.”

“I guess, if you think that’s gorgeous and useful. Maybe it’s just, you know, noise. Light noise.” He shrugged. “But I think it’s a lot more fascinating to learn about the buildings themselves that make up the city. I’m an architect,” he said, almost as a way of apology for his words. “So buildings are kind of my thing.” He laughed.

“No, that’s cool,” she agreed. “What do you build?”

“Well, right now, mostly hotel design, but I’m a modular designer. Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

“So it’s bigger in Europe but it’s making waves in the US. Basically, instead of building a hotel from the ground up, we prefab the bedrooms and bathrooms in a factory. Then each discrete room is transported to the hotel site and lifted by crane onto the scaffolding that holds it all into place. When it’s done, you can’t tell the difference from traditional construction.”

“Oh, wow. That’s crazy.”

“It cuts down on erection time by at least three months.”

She started to laugh, saw that he wasn’t; checked herself with a start.

“What? That’s a sizeable amount.” He raised an eyebrow.

She coughed. “It seems so futuristic. Kind of scary. Maybe because it makes it seem more impersonal than before. That things can be manufactured in bulk and put into place. It makes me think of clones, human clones, and arrays of kidneys growing in pans.”

“I don’t see how that relates.” He frowned. “It’s a sensible way to cut costs and even increase safety and comfort. Because the pods have to be built stronger for transportation, some people find them more noise-proof than traditional hotel rooms.”

“Sure, sure, I can see that. But isn’t there something a little unsettling about the way everything is becoming more modular and prefabricated, the way we’re trending to 3D printing? A little bit like we’re losing the soul of things? Or that it’s another step in the direction of machines building our machines, and then more people are out of jobs? Not that progress is a bad thing at all! It’s just different. We’ll have to adjust, find new ways to be useful in society. As a whole. You know?” She wanted to talk about a future where machines did the bulk of the work, something far off, hundreds of years off, maybe.

Mike frowned and shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t follow.” He looked frustrated.

“Never mind. Forget it.” Harper took a breath.

“It is a great view, though, right? I love this city. Growing all the time. We’re going to put a hotel there,” he pointed in the flickering distance to the left, “and one there,” he pointed out into the middle. “It’s going to be legit awesome.”

Fuck. Are we going to talk about the view for an hour, or however long it takes to eat a meal at this place? She saw a couple in the throes of love at another table, a couple who cared nothing for the view, because they were completely and totally engrossed in each other’s eyes, laughing, touching hands. The sexual tension was palpable, and without meaning to, she thought about Zach and his date. What were they doing right now?

Chapter 19

“If you want, I can tell you about everything we see from the window,” offered Mike, leading her to the table. “For instance, see that building there? That one, with the thing?” He pointed.

“Uh, yeah. That one there. With the thing. Yes.”

“So that one…” and Mike launched into an enthusiastic and somewhat spit-spangled architectural description. His height and dark hair were no longer attractive, coupled as they were to this man with whom she had zero connection.

I thin-sliced him, like ham, she thought to herself. She wished she could text that to Zach.

The chair was a little uncomfortable, digging into the edges of her thighs in a way that made her shift. The couple to her right didn’t care about chairs. Soon enough, they’d be in a bed, anyway.

She sighed and tuned in for a few seconds to make sure she hadn’t missed anything critical.

“…built in 1964, developed by David H. Murdock and designed by architect W. A. Sarmiento, it is fascinating because they originally intended to build a second one…”

Nope, she was still good. She thought about texting Talia. But that would be far too rude. Mike was boring, but still, there were basic human standards to acknowledge.

She decided to try harder. Everyone was interesting, right? Hadn’t she been waxing poetic about how people were fractals just the other day? “That is so fascinating. That reminds me of a time when I was in Chicago photographing stuff downtown. Did you know that the Water Tower survived the great Chicago Fire? Well, I’m sure you knew that. Haha. But when I saw it—”

Mike’s eyes glazed over.

WTF? She was trying! She was even talking architecture.

“Excuse me, I have to get this.” Mike pulled a phone from his pocket and tapped. “Text from my partner. Sorry.”

Oh no he didn’t. Well, hell, if he was going to do it first! She pulled out her phone and tapped the messenger icon. But when she saw Zach’s name pop up first, from his earlier text, she hesitated, finger hovering.

Finally she decided. “How’s your big date going?”

“Great. How about you? Did you cave to the pressure and take a picture yet?”

“No. But I bet you already lost with your whatever, fucking gorgeous date. Did you lose the contest yet?”

“See for yourself, Harper.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re going to forward me some nasty homemade porn you just made.”

“My porn is top-notch quality, Harper, but no. I’m here. Look to your left.”

Startled, she glanced up and there he was, sitting in a table across the restaurant. Alone.

“Haha!” she typed back. “Trying to decide if your date is a)imaginary or b)already under the table blowing you.”

She was gratified to see him snort into a chuckle, his shoulders shake. She smiled.

“Are you done?” Mike tapped her arm across the table.

“Excuse me?” Startled, she looked up.

“With your call? I’m done with mine. I was just wondering if I should start another thing or wait for you. I mean, if you could give me a time frame. Are you thinking thirty seconds, or more like two minutes?” Mike seemed serious.

“I’m good.” She put the phone by her water glass.

“Great! So back to what I was saying.”

“Actually, I was telling you about…”

“So that building next to the one I mentioned? That’s…”

Her phone buzzed. She casually slid her finger across the screen to see Zach’s text. “He looks nice.”

She burst into a giggle, trying to hide it in her hand. Mike gave her a look, then continued talking.

She glanced across the room, and he was looking right at her. As they made eye contact, he raised his glass of wine. She rolled her eyes and looked back to Mike, then glanced back over when she saw movement at Zach’s table out of the corner of her eye. A gorgeous brunette in a tight black dress—elegant, not trashy—came from the direction of the restrooms, leaned in to speak to him, hand on shoulder, and slid gracefully across from him. Her smile faded.

“What do you think about that?” Mike looked away from the view. “Harper?”

“Great.” She didn’t feel enthusiastic, and was grateful that the server chose that moment to come by.

“Ma’am? A gentleman across the room asked me to bring you and your date a drink, on him. It’s our best tequila. Casa Dragones Tequila Joven.” The server put down two crystal glasses, each filled with a small amount of amber liquid. “Typically people drink this slowly, savor it.”

“Who did that?” Mike looked around.

“He said enjoy for your first time.” The server smiled.

“What does that mean?” Mike blinked rapidly.

“It’s okay. It’s my boss. Well, maybe more of a coworker.” Harper pointed. “He’s here with a date. He’s probably trying to be generous with employee benefits. I bet he put it on his corporate card.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this.” Mike blinked. “It’s a little strange, don’t you think?”

“He’s harmless,” Harper said. “Tell you what. We can send something back to their table and make it even.”

She pointed. Mike stiffened when he saw Zach, then, not surprisingly, his gaze lingered on the date. For a while. Even though she didn’t like Mike, Harper felt a pang of irritation. She didn’t want Mike. But still, having your date eye-fuck another woman wasn’t the best thing for your ego.

Harper lifted one of the heavy glasses of tequila. “Tell him thanks so very much,” she said sweetly, and tipped the liquid down her throat. As the amber rolled down, she felt instant heat suffuse her chest, and angels might have sang for a split second, providing a flash of brilliance, like the sun giving a final glow before dipping below the horizon, fast but clear. “Oh. My. God. That’s good.” She looked at the server, then Mike, then back at the server. “That’s so good! What is that, again?”

“Casa Dragones. It’s handcrafted in small batches in Mexico.” The server smiled. “I’ll tell him you liked it, then.”

“Tell him it went down easy, which he’s used to, I’m sure.”

“Um, excuse me?”

“I’m sorry. Just tell him thanks.” Harper smiled. “Mike, try this. It’s really good.” She pushed the second glass toward him.

“Maybe later.” Mike glanced over at Zach and the woman, lingering again on her, and Harper tried to hold back a grimace. So many things wrong with this date!

“Are you ready to order?” The server lifted her pad, pen poised.

“Yes.” Mike lifted his menu. “I’ll have the mixed grill, then tenderloin with the shrimp. And Harper will have—”

“I haven’t looked at the menu yet, actually.” Harper, surprised, wrinkled her brow.

“Oh. I was planning to order you the same thing I get. Best thing on the menu.” Mike gave her a brief smile. “I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks, but I think I’d like to order for myself.” Harper picked up the sheaf of papers, and the chill in her voice was unmistakable.

The server averted her eyes and tapped her tablet. “Should I give you a few more minutes, then?”

“No! No, don’t go.” God, because if you do, that’s another ten minutes in this man’s dreadful company. “I’ll decide right now. I’ll…” She snatched at the first thing on the menu. “The full-sized garden salad with chicken.”

Suddenly something under appetizers caught her eye. “Do you really serve… rattlesnake here?”

The server nodded. “It’s cut into nuggets, breaded and deep-fried, and comes with our very own dill-tartar dipping sauce and the spine all arranged on a plate. It’s actually really good.”

“Let me guess,” Mike broke in. “It tastes like chicken.” He laughed.

The server’s smile remained pasted to her cheeks. “Haha! Actually it has a very unique flavor. Most people think it’s good, once they give it a try.”

“Ah, deep-fried anything all tastes the same. I think we’ll skip it.”

“I think we’ll send an order of it to the table that got us the tequila.” Harper narrowed her eyes. “And can you please make sure to tell the gentleman that I hope his first time isn’t too scary.”

“Not… too… scary.” The server wrote on her pad. “Okay. Got it. Sure thing.” She bustled off back to the kitchen.

“Why did you do that?” Mike seemed confused.

“Well, they got us tequila. It only seemed polite.” Harper tried to keep her voice neutral.

“Okay.” Mike was silent.

Harper glanced across the room. The brunette was laughing… loudly. Like a bray, really; or was that just her being jelly? No, other people were looking. That laugh was really obvious. Okay, it was mean to laugh at someone else’s laugh, but that was not a nice sound.

She smiled. Maybe Zach’s evening wasn’t perfect, either. “Oh, this is work, I have to get this,” she said, picking up her phone.

She typed, “Thanks for the tequila. It went down easy, like one of your dates.”

A second later, her phone buzzed. “Classy, Harper. Speaking of dates, can yours even go down? He looks like the stick up his ass goes all the way to his brain stem.”

She snorted.

“Work’s funny?” Mike’s face didn’t look as eager as before; clearly, the vibe of the entire dinner was affecting him at last.

She shook her head, feeling guilty. “I’m sorry. My, uh, coworker has a great sense of humor.”

“Well, if you’re going to be looking at work, I’ll take a few more minutes as well.” Mike’s voice was slightly stiff.

“Oh, go for it. Work must take a priority in our lives,” she proclaimed. “Life blood and all that.”

Never again. Never again would she accept a date that she knew wouldn’t work out. Life was too short to waste minutes of air and heartbeats suffering through this. It was like eating mothballs and lint in the back of a closet. Jesus. This was the exact opposite of leaping into something new and exciting. And it turned out that people could be reverse fractals, she had discovered. What seemed promising on the surface turned out to be boring and hollow. Someone that looked amazing at first glance turned out to be dull and banal when you looked at the details, finding nothing intricate, nothing worthy of further investigation.

While Mike was occupied, she checked her phone. Nothing. She slid her eyes across the room, and saw that Zach and his date had received the platters of rattlesnake nuggets. The date didn’t look enthused; she shook her head, no. Zach ate one, though, and when he licked some of the sauce from his lip, her stomach flipped. Then, when his date reached out to brush his lips with her finger, Harper quickly looked back at her table.

Her phone was silent.

The entrees arrived, her salad just as boring as one might expect, and while she wished she’d allowed Mike to order her a juicy steak like the one he was devouring, she forced herself to chatter with him and not to look over at Zach. When she accidentally caught a glimpse of his table, though, and saw the date leaning in and putting her hand on his, she almost felt like crying at the awful juxtaposition of his stellar date with her awful one.

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I need to go use the bathroom.” Mike set his napkin next to his plate.

Did people say that? Bathroom? She tried to think if she’d tell a date that she had to use the bathroom, or if she’d just go and say something like, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” If she did say where she was going, did she typically even say bathroom, or would she go with restroom? Vague thoughts of men’s rooms fluttered through her head; urinals, men aiming. Unbidden, an image of Mike holding a limp penis flashed before her eyes.

“Ugh!” she exclaimed, with a small shudder. “Make it go away.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?” The server stood at her elbow.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Nothing.”

“Can I take your plate?”

“Please.” Harper gestured.

“Would you like a to-go box?” The server’s smile faded when she looked at the mostly uneaten salad. “Was everything all right? Is there something wrong with the meal? I’d be happy to—”

“It was fine. No box. Thanks.” Harper couldn’t summon up more than that. Finally she lowered her voice. “The food is fine. I’m on a terrible date. I just… want it to end.”

“Oh, I see.” The server’s face turned sympathetic. “Been there. I’ll try to hurry up with the check. Hang in there, chica.” She patted Harper’s arm in a consoling kind of way. “Stay strong,” she whispered.

“Thanks.” Harper gave her a small smile.

Across the room, Zach’s date made the sound again, the one that was a piece of laughter. Zach seemed interested in her face and chest, so Harper looked out toward the black city blinking with lights and cars, shining in the dark like a million fireflies of energy.

Was her perfect man out there somewhere, if not in this city, then in one like it, elsewhere in the world? Was he thinking about her right now; well, not her, but the person he wanted? Chicago, New York, L.A., Paris, London—how could there be so many millions of people and not the one perfect match for her? She sighed and propped her chin on her hand. Too many and yet not enough. The world so full of life and yet sometimes so achingly lonely.

The server was back; Mike was not. “Hey, I told my bartender about your date situation,” she said in an undertone. “He’s totally sympathetic. We’ve got your back.”

Harper giggled. “Seriously?”

“It’s a slow night. We need something to do besides folding napkins. Um, I’m Nell.”

“Nell. Hi. I’m Harper.”

“Nice to meet you. So, hey, Justin? He’s distracting your guy for a while with a free drink offer at the bar. Then they’ll try to get him into the game.”

“What game?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I hate sports. Whatever stuff is on.” Nell waved her hand. “Basketball, maybe? Does your date like that?”

“He likes to talk,” Harper said drily. “About city buildings. Beyond that, I really can’t say.”

“So how long do you think he’ll stay away from the table if they start talking at the bar?” Nell raised her eyebrow.

“I don’t know, but he’s as not into me as I’m not into him, so he might stretch it out. I’m willing to tip the bartender an extra twenty if he can pull off ten minutes.”

“I’ll tell him.” Nell looked excited. “This is fun.”

“More fun than the original date, definitely.” Harper glanced over, but couldn’t see the bar from her seat. Then she looked over at Zach, who was looking at her. She turned red and looked away.

“So, um, what’s the deal with that table over there? Are you friends with them?” Nell lowered her voice.

“Well, he’s my boss, and that’s his date.” She cleared her throat. “We’re just in town together on a business trip.”

“I’d be glad to go on a business trip with him,” Nell said. “He’s really hot.”

“Yes, but he’s also sort of a dick. I think he sleeps around a lot.”

“Even better. Just kidding!” Nell added quickly. “He keeps looking over here, though.”

“Hmm.”

“He seemed very interested in how you liked the tequila. He asked me twice.”

“Okay.”

“He laughed when I told him the thing you said. I don’t think his date thought it was very funny, though. She made this kind of face, you know? Like this?” Nell pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “So I said it again, to see if she’d make the face again, and she did. It was really very funny. I’m studying psychology at ASU, you know? We’re doing a lesson on stimuli and response. It sort of fit right in.”

“He seemed interested? Really?” Harper glanced over.

“Uh-huh.” Nell smiled. “Well, I gotta get back to my duties. I’ll check on the, you know, situation at the bar, and report back.”

“Thanks.”

Chapter 20

Her phone buzzed. “Scared your date off so soon? Too bad.”

She shook her head with a smile. “He heard your date laugh and thought it was a rabid hyena coming to eat him, so he hid in the men’s room. My guess? He’s crouched in a urinal, weeping. Yours is probably going to vomit up all of her food right now.”

Across the room, Zach guffawed. Her phone buzzed. “You have no respect. Nobody ever taught you manners?”

“Nope, can’t say they did.”

She hesitated, wanting to toss caution away and write something undeniably sexy. Something that would let him know that she was sick of this bet, sick of this flirtation with him, and that what she wanted was to have him take her to their hotel and fuck her to the stars and back.

If she liked him, and the fragile magic they’d been building this trip was going to shatter anyway, the instant they returned to reality? Why not seize the day and enjoy the hell out of this chance?

She leapt. “You think you’re up for the job?”

Pause. Then, “Oh, hell, yes.”

“How?”

“I have creative ways of getting a woman to apologize for her behavior, Harper.”

“Apologize for what? That your date is a whore with a laugh like a sick sea lion? Or that mine is a walking Ken doll whose batteries are wearing out?”

Again, he laughed. “Apologize for your dirty mouth, that’s what.”

“Trust me, there are situations where you’d be begging me to use that dirty mouth on you, Zach.”

“Such as?” He wasn’t laughing anymore. Across the room, he’d angled his chair to face in her direction. He was leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, staring straight at her, phone in one hand.

She swallowed hard. She crossed her legs and watched him watch her. “Use your imagination.” Pangs of arousal fluttered through her belly.

“You’re playing with fire, Harper.”

“Maybe I want to get burned.”

“You can’t handle my kind of heat.”

“Bring it.”

“Too bad for you that I can’t mess around with anyone right now, because if I could, I’d choose you. And I’d make it so good, Harper. Five minutes and I’d have you screaming my name.”

She sucked in a breath. “You’re still sticking to the bet?”

“Unless you take a photograph, I’m not even going to kiss anyone. I promised.”

Suddenly, Mike was back with drinks in his hands, a smile on his face. “Sorry I took so long, but the server told me you were on a work phone call and that she’d wave me over when you were done. The bartender gave me free drinks. Oh, there’s one for you, too.” He slid something over, fruity and strong, with a parasol and a cherry on a stick. “I’m totally going to leave them a great review on Yelp. Free drinks, right? I’m not done with my steak, but you can enjoy this while I eat.”

“Oh, I sure will.”

Distracted, all she could think about was Zach, Zach. Zach’s mouth. Zach’s body.

Mike seemed to have received a burst of energy along with the drinks. “So can I tell you more about my next job? So there’s this hotel in Atlanta that used the modular construction, and they had a breakthrough on how they managed the scaffolding. And we want to use it as inspiration. Not to copy, just as motivation. You know the difference, right? So…”

Across the room, Zach’s date was settled back in her chair, but now the body language was different—instead of leaning in, she sat upright in her chair, fiddling with her hemline, glancing around the room.

Harper started when her phone buzzed. “Using that dirty mouth on your drink, I see.”

“A girl has to keep busy somehow.”

“I know how to keep those lips busy.”

“Only if yours get busy with your tongue first. And I’m not interested in sloppy seconds, so you’re gonna have to ditch the date.”

“You want to play games? All right. Imagine this, Harper. You’re not wearing any panties. I take you out onto that patio and put you on a table and spread those thighs. Then I’ll show you what I can do with my tongue. Except I can’t, right, because of the bet.”

She sucked in a breath. His eyes, across the room, glittered at her. She looked away.

Mike shoved a mouthful of steak and chewed, and the sound of his mastication made her want to cover her ears. There was a word for it; she’d Googled it one time. Misophonia: The act of being repulsed by certain common sounds, like chewing or breathing,that are unnoticed by most people. But she didn’t get it all the time, so it wasn’t, like, a psychological condition. It was just now, with her date, who was mashing his mouthful like slushy cud.

“Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.” She smirked to herself and hurried to the restroom, where she enclosed herself in a stall and slid off her G-string. She bit her lip, folding it into her purse, then went up to the bar. “Justin? Thanks for helping out with my date thing.” She pointed behind her.

“I had him here for at least ten minutes. Pretty wicked awesome.” Justin, built and dark, a twenty-five-year-old hottie, smiled and propped his arms on the counter, popping his muscles. She smiled. Such a showboat playboy, but also cute.

Nell joined them. “Hope you liked the delay!” she sang out, putting down her tray and wipe rag. “There’s nothing we won’t do for our customers, Harper.”

Harper fished a five and a twenty from her purse and passed them over. “The service here was excellent. My compliments to the manager.”

Nell smiled. “If you want to leave us a rave review online, we totally wouldn’t complain.”

“Would you, by any chance, have an envelope?” Harper bit her lip. “Just a plain mailing envelope. I need to send a, ah, note. To my boss.”

“A note.” Nell raised an eyebrow. “To your boss. Right now?”

“Well, it’s, you know, kind of far to walk across the room.” Harper nodded.

“So it is. Right? Like, at least twenty or thirty steps. I get you.” Nell grinned.

“For a tip like this, you can have an envelope and a cherry on top.” Justin bent down. “Just a sec. We have some old office stuff here that the manager stores.” Shuffling noises ensued, then he reemerged with a manila envelope in his hand. “Will this work?”

“Oh, that’s actually perfect. “

“Do you want paper?”

“Ah, no, actually. Hang on.”

Harper turned her back, making sure nobody was looking, and slid the panties into the envelope, then licked it shut. “If you can give this to that guy, you know which one?”

“Oh, we know which one.” Nell rolled her eyes. “Your boss, the one you’re just friends with.”

“Just friends,” Justin repeated, doing air quotes. “I hope to end the evening with a just friend like that.”

Nell slapped at him with her towel. “I thought you and I were going to hear the Three Ugly Guys play at that club in Scottsdale.”

“I hope we’re going as just friends,” Justin said, giving her a leer.

“In your dreams,” Nell scoffed.

Harper hurried back to her seat. A second later, Nell walked over to Zach, the envelope in her hand. Nell pointed to her table and Harper smiled and crossed her legs, raising one eyebrow. She tapped her phone. Zach nodded slowly.

His date leaned in, but he said something to her, then stood up and walked to the front entry, where he opened the envelope and peered in. His back was to her, so she couldn’t see his response, but her whole body suffused with a heady adrenaline, and her heart beat faster than she thought possible.

She stood up and opened her camera bag. “Mike, I’m just going to take a quick picture of the view. The lights are perfect right now.”

She glanced over to make sure Zach was watching; he was, so she raised the camera and took a picture, then another. Another. She gave him a smile and raised her eyebrows.

He smiled back, but his was triumphant and dangerous.

Mike stood up. “So… you about ready to call it a night?” He frowned. “I’m sorry this didn’t work out like I’d planned. Honestly, I don’t know—I think we should end the night as just friends. Right?”

She nodded. “Thank for inviting me. I’m sorry we didn’t have more in common.”

His frown softened. “You, too.” He hesitated. “I’m sorry if I talked a little too much about buildings. I do that when I’m, uh, bored.”

“Got it.” She wanted to sigh and laugh, but didn’t.

“So, do you want to, like, split the check? We could give her our cards and have her put half on each.”

“Let me cover it.” She put her hand over the black folder. “My treat. I’ll just sit here for a while and get another drink and enjoy the view.” Please, leave. Just leave. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, thanks.” He acted like he wanted to come in for a hug, stiffened up, then waved. “Bye.” As he walked off, his step quickened and he looked happier. He shot one last glance over at Zach’s table, probably looking for the date, Harper figured, then disappeared into the foyer.

Across the room, Zach had both hands on his date’s arms, but it didn’t look all that sexy. He kissed her cheek, then she walked to the exit. Zach made eye contact with Harper, then deliberately sat back down at his table. Not sure what to do now, she sat down at hers.

“I got your note.”

“Could you read what it said?”

“I got the message. You sure this is what you want?”

“Yes.”

Looking right at him, she uncrossed and recrossed her legs. He shifted, and she smiled.

“Problem?”

“Nothing I can’t solve when I get you alone.”

“I hope you’re not uncomfortable.” She glanced around, saw that nobody else was looking and hiked her skirt a little higher, showing more thigh. Under the table she uncrossed her legs again and spread them just a bit, then leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

When she looked back over, the expression on his face was positively feral.

“You keep teasing me, you’re going to pay the price.”

In response, she bit her lip and licked her lip, then tugged at her skirt again. “Oh, do tell. What are you going to do?”

“Everything you said you wanted on the airplane.”

She sucked in a breath. “Refresh my memory.”

“I’m going to bury my head between those thighs and make you scream my name, princess. But first, I’ll tie you up, and take you over my lap and spank you pink for teasing me. You want a dirty, dominant tropical fling, you’ll get one.”

Fuck! The idea of it, both of those things, had her wet again.

“I already paid both of our bills. We’re going back to the hotel.”

“How can I ever repay you?” She stuck a finger in her drink, licked it clean.

“I’ll come up with something. Let’s go.”

Excited to obey his commands, she stood up, leaving her skirt wrinkled and higher than usual on her thighs. Feeling naughty and sexy, she made her way to the door, giving a smile and goodbye wave at Nell as she did, all thoughts on the man in front of her. His broad shoulders in his suit were intoxicating, and when he turned to face her, she caught her breath. “Zach.”

“Harper.” His voice was stern, and when he smiled, it was dark. “You’re playing a dangerous game.”

“Who said I’m playing?”

Chapter 21

He tugged her to his body, and she gasped at the feel of his hard thighs and erection against her. “Harper, you don’t even know the rules to this game,” he whispered in her ear, making her moan. “But I’m a good teacher.”

“I can probably teach you a few things of my own,” she rejoined, her voice low and sultry.

“I look forward to it,” he said, his voice silky. “After I do exactly what I promised, of course.”

She sucked in a breath. “Oh?”

“I always keep my promises,” he said, his smile wicked. “And you deserve it. All of the things I mentioned.”

Her heartbeat hitched. “I’ve never, ah, never tried.”

He bit her neck, a sharp nip. “You want me to stop, you say it. You’re not going to want me to stop, though.” The arrogant smile on his face had her panting and full of desire. “This is what you said you wanted, after all.”

“You seem pretty confident.” She ran a hand up his chest, feeling the muscles and planes through the shirt.

He kissed her neck. “I am. Do you trust me?”

She nodded.

“Your safe word is Tequila. You say that, I stop what I’m doing. But if you don’t say it, I don’t stop. Do you agree?”

“Yes.” Her voice was low but firm.

He tipped her chin up, looking into her eyes. “What drink did I order you tonight?”

She smiled and licked her lips. “Red wine.”

He laughed, a harsh sound and pulled her closer. “I have your panties in my pocket, Harper. When we get back to the hotel, I’m going to use them to tie your hands together. Think about that on the way back.” He ran a hand up her waist, and cupped her breast. “And then I’m going to play with your tits while you beg and wiggle under my touch.”

She breathed out hard. “Zach.”

He kissed her then, his mouth warm and tasting like tequila, and she kissed back, enjoying his tongue, his scent, his hands on her body. He was a skillful kisser, exploring her with his lips, his tongue, and she pressed into him, wanting more, wanting everything.

He broke away, leaving them both panting. “My car. Now.”

She slid into the front seat of the rental. He started the engine, then paused. He pulled her panties from his pocket and said, “Wrists.”

“What?”

“Give me your wrists. I think I’ll tie you up now. Give you a taste of what’s coming.”

“Zach, I—”

At his stern look, she held out her wrists.

He wrapped the fabric over and around, ending up with a snug bond. “You could get out of that easily. Don’t. Keep your hands in your lap like that, good. I like the idea of you all submissive and tied up for me, even in the car.”

She flushed hard. “What if someone sees?”

“At night, with tinted windows?” He chuckled. “If they do, they’ll think I’m the luckiest fucking man in this entire city.” He leaned in. “You thirsty?”

She tilted her head, then realized what he was asking. “No.”

“Sure? I can get you a drink.” He raised an eyebrow.

“I’m fine.”

“Good. Hike your skirt up more, though. I want your bare ass on the leather.”

“Zach!” she squealed. “But. But I’m…”

“You’re what?” He grinned at her. “Lift up.” He put his hands at her thighs. “Lift up your ass, Harper, so I can raise your skirt.”

“But I’m… wet.” she whispered the last word, feeling her face get hotter than ever.

“Good.”

“But the seat?”

“Now.” He tapped her thigh, not a spank, but a firm gesture. She widened her eyes and lifted her body, allowing him to pull up the fabric. The air was cool on her legs and body and she shivered. When he had the skirt around her waist, he helped her settle back down. “Spread your thighs a little, Harper. More. Even more.”

She made a small noise of uncertainty. She was so turned on, but a little embarrassed, too.

“I want you like that all the way back,” he said. “Legs open, hands tied. Ready for me. Are you ready for me, Harper?” His voice was a demand and a caress.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Ready for my touch? For my fingers, for my tongue? For my cock?” His voice was harsh.

“Yes.” She felt desperate. She clenched her thighs, feeling her body twitch and moisten further.

“You probably want me to touch you right now,” he said, starting the engine. “I think I’ll wait, though.”

She shifted her legs, restless.

“I can smell your arousal from here,” he said, glancing over. “I can smell how turned on you are, for me, Harper. Do you know how hot it was to get aroused during your date with another man?”

She breathed out. He pulled out of the lot and merged into the street traffic. “And when you gave me your panties? Knowing you were sitting there naked, almost, had me ready to grab you and fuck you right the hell there.”

He reached over with his right hand and stroked her thigh, up and down, a gentle movement. She flinched and widened her thighs, as if begging him in.

He laughed. “I know what you want.” He let his fingers stray to her inner thigh, tantalizingly close to where she wanted his touch. He brushed the skin just beside her mound and she cried out. “Zach.”

“Yes?” He ran his hand down to her knee and cupped it.

The gesture felt so erotic she almost moaned. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” He glided his fingers along the back of her knee and rubbed under the back of her thigh.

“No, I need it higher.”

“I’m sure you do.” He laughed. “Not yet, though. Keep those legs open for me, though, in case I change my mind.”

“Asshole.”

“Hmmm, I don’t know if you should be calling me names. Maybe I’ll make you wait that much longer for it.”

“Zach!” But she loved this; it was exhilarating. There was nothing in her mind except this man and this car, his hand on her leg, the mounting orgasm in her body, the arousal swirling through her bloodstream.

He ran his hand over her breast, found the nipple and pinched it, and she bucked her hips.

“You like that?” He did it again.

She raised up her hands, tied with the panties, put them down. “I want to touch you.”

“Not yet. I like seeing you tied up like that. Those got wet. Can you feel it against your wrists?”

She nodded.

“Lift your hands up to your face and smell the panties, Harper. Tell me what you smell.”

“Zach, I—”

“Do it, please.”

She lifted her hands. “I can smell my scent. How turned on I got.”

“I bet your pussy is so wet right now that you’re leaving a mark on the seat.” He sounded pleased, but slid a sidelong glance at her; she figured he was checking to make sure she liked the dirty talk.

She did, and gave him an encouraging smile.

“I should have you ride bare-ass all the time so you can cream my seats and let everyone know what a sexy little cunt you have.” He squeezed her thigh.

“Zach!” She turned red and pressed her thighs together, trying to relieve the ache.

“Uh-uh, legs open. We’ll inspect the seat together and check whether or not you made a mess, baby. Either way, I’ll get a chance to punish you. If you ruined the seat, you deserve a good hard spanking. But if you didn’t get turned on enough, that merits punishment, too.”

“Oh…” she moaned, as he squeezed her nipple again, feeling wanton and ragged.

“You like it when I talk to you this way?” he murmured.

She nodded.

“Then tell me you like having your thighs wide open for me,” he demanded.

“I like… having my thighs open for you,” she whispered back.

“Louder. Regular voice.”

She bit her lip. “Zach! I like—I like having my thighs open for you.”

“Good.”

He merged onto the freeway. “Now I’m going to open the window and you shout it out to the world.”

“People will hear!”

He laughed. “Nobody will hear but me. I want you to do it for me. And for you.”

He rolled down the window and the hot desert air made her suck in her breath. She waited a second, looked at him, then called into the night, “I like having my thighs spread for you!” Then, to him, “Oh, God, Zach. You’re driving me crazy.”

“Jesus, I like having you do what I say,” he said, his voice harsh and hard. “It’s a fucking rush, Harper. I am going to have you be submissive for me all the fucking time, now that I know you like it.”

She whimpered and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat. She was a grown woman who ran her own business, managed her life. And here she was, naked from the waist down, hands tied with her own panties, obeying the commands of her sexy boss… and loving every second. Who could ever have guessed?

“I’m going to have you do things you never dreamed you’d do, Harper,” he continued. “Things you don’t want to do, until you try them for the first time and realize you like it. I’m going to do things to you that good girls don’t do. And you’re going to beg me for more.”

“Yes,” she murmured, his voice putting her in a trance.

“Tell me you’re going to do everything I tell you to do,” he ordered, his voice mesmerizing her.

“I’ll do it, Zach, everything you want, I swear.” Her voice was high and needy. “Every single thing.”

When they reached the hotel parking lot, he glanced around, and so did she, noticing a few people walking through the grounds. Both of their eyes went to her hands, still bound by the panties. She sucked in a breath. He wasn’t going to make her wear those to the room, was he? She started to stiffen, thinking about—

He reached over and unwound the fabric, and stuck it into his pocket. “Nobody else needs to see what you do for me,” he murmured, the sexiness of his voice coupled with his insight into her needs making her even more turned on. “As long as I know,” he whispered into her ear, his lips brushing her skin. “That’s what matters.” He came around to her door and opened it. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 22

Walking back to their cottage, his arm around her, they were silent. Some night-bird called out again and again, and something fluttered overhead. A bat? She didn’t know; didn’t care. He unlocked the door and took off his jacket. “Take twenty minutes and get yourself ready, whatever you need to do. When I come into this room, I expect to see you naked on your bed, hands and knees. Understand?”

“Zach.” She flushed. “That’s…”

“That’s what you’re going to do for me,” he said, biting her neck and running his hand over the curve of her ass. “Because I asked you to. Yes or no?”

“I… yes,” she whispered, unable to look him in the eye.

He tilted her chin upward. “Completely naked, Harper.”

She nodded.

He let go and ran his fingers down her shoulder. “Go.”

Standing alone in her room, she trembled with desire, her body full of warring emotions. Need conflicted with logic; this was bound to go nowhere. He was a player, he wasn’t in this for long term. She worked for him, part time. The ending would be a disaster and a mess and difficult to get past. But oh, he was a player, and how fucking good this game could be.

Even though her mind wasn’t at ease, she stripped and jumped into the shower for a brief wash, brushed her teeth. Drying off, she checked the clock, her stomach in knots. Seven minutes. Was she going to do this? If he came in and she wasn’t naked and on the bed, would he go away? Surely not; the game would alter into something new and different, probably just as delicious. The look in his eye wasn’t that of a man who’d give up when one thing changed.

But as appalling as it might seem to the her of a month ago, she wanted to obey his orders. She could stop at any time; she knew he was in this for pleasure for them both, and she wanted to have that.

So after she replaced the damp towel back over the silver bar, she smoothed down the cover of the bed and climbed up, positioning herself as requested, on hands and knees, thighs spread. The pose was provocative and lewd, and just displaying herself like that, to the empty room, was enough to have her wet again. The cool air brushed against her nipples like fingers and she shivered with anticipation. What would he do first when he came in? Touch her? Tease her? Would he undress?

Two minutes. God! Would he come in right on time? She shifted her position, anxiously awaiting any sounds from the connecting door. Where was he?

At the last minute, she flipped over and switched positions. Maybe she’d make him work for it, just a little bit. Maybe she wanted to tease him. Maybe she wanted to push that dark look in his eye, and find out exactly what he’d do when he discovered her disobedience.

Smiling at her own plan, she grabbed the gauzy fabric at the foot of the bed, the piece draped across like decoration, and twisted it over her breasts and through her thighs, the material doing little to provide any modesty; instead, highlighting her body. She put up one knee and one arm near her head, playing with her hair, splayed out across the pillow.

When she heard the click of the door, she stiffened as if it were a gunshot, then relaxed back into her pose.

He was wearing his suit, but the tie was undone and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his strong forearms. He shut the door behind him and pulled a chair up to the bed. Sitting in it, he regarded her for a minute. There was silence except for their breathing, and his eyes, gleaming in the dim light, burned into hers.

He stood up and came closer, still not speaking. When he held out his hand, her entire body was suffused with adrenaline. She gave it over, still locked onto his eyes. He pulled her slowly to a sitting position, then came and sat beside her, the bed giving slightly at the added pressure. “You,” he said, his voice low, “are beautiful.” He traced the line of her shoulder and arm, flipping the gauzy fabric aside so his fingers could skim her breasts. “Absolutely breathtaking.” He grazed her nipples with his nails; she cried out softly. “And entirely disobedient.”

He pulled her onto his lap and she nestled into his body, shifting to get comfortable, her breasts pushing into the fabric of his shirt. He spoke into her neck. “And that means I get to punish you.”

A delicious tremor rippled through her body. He caressed the skin of her hip. “In any fashion I deem appropriate.”

She didn’t respond, but pressed her mouth to his, and the kiss was immediate and powerful. He grabbed the back of her head with one hand, the other on her neck, pulling her to him as he plundered her with his tongue. His lips traced a path across her cheek, down her neck, then he took her mouth again, confident and skillful. When they broke apart, panting, he squeezed her nipple.

“Lie back for me and put your hands over your head. I’m going to tie you up for my pleasure,” he growled.

She sucked in a breath and obeyed, reclining on the pillow and carefully placing one arm, then the next, up. He grabbed the gauzy fabric and wound it round and over her wrists, creating a binding that she could probably release if she needed to, but that held her firmly in place against moving her hands.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered, and when she did, slowly, he inhaled. “Fuck. Perfect.”

She could feel how wet she was; it was indecent and sexy, and she thrust her hips up, needing his touch. But instead of his fingers, she yelped in surprise when he ducked down and licked her clit, his dark hair tickling her thighs. “Zach!” She squeezed with her legs. “Oh, God.”

“No, stay open,” he demanded, giving her a light tap on her thigh. “Nice and wide for me. Let me lick that pretty, wet pussy.”

His tongue glided down her slit, then teased her clit, small flicks and licks that made her pant and try to push her hips up into his face.

“I love your taste,” he said, looking up at her. “Look at me.” She gazed down, and the sight of him between her spread legs, face intense with passion, lips glazed with her essence, made her cry out again. When he ducked his head back down and continued his gentle assault on her skin, she kept looking, mesmerized by the sight of this handsome man, so sexy in his suit, his muscles showing through the white shirt, straining at the shoulders. He was pleasuring her. Enjoying her.

Without warning, an orgasm started to well up and she managed to say breathily, “Zach, oh, God, I’m going to—if you keep doing that…”

“You’re going to come?” He stopped licking and looked up. “Is that what you’re going to do?”

“Yes, if you…”

“If I what?”

“Zach! Don’t tease me. If you keep licking me.”

“Ask me nicely for it. I want to hear you say please.”

Needy, she widened her thighs and fidgeted. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Keep licking my clit. Please.”

“No.” He smiled and withdrew from between her legs.

“Zach!” Frustrated, she thumped her bound hands above her head on the pillow.

“Punishment, remember?” He quirked a brow, then stood beside her and started to unbutton his shirt. “Don’t come until I say. And I promise you, it’s going to be a while before I grant you permission.” He grinned.

“Zach, that’s mean.” But her voice was low and sultry, and her body full of arousal and she shifted from one ass cheek to the other.

“Keep those legs open, Harper. If you wanted an easy orgasm, you would have obeyed me and gotten in the position I asked, the first time.”

He tugged off the shirt and tossed it to the chair. The sight of his bare chest and abs, rippling with muscles, made her glaze over in desire. “Come here,” she whispered.

He laughed. “Soon.”

His dress pants rode low on his lean hips, and she could see the tell-tale V of his muscles. She licked her lips. “I want to touch you.”

Instead of replying he came closer and leaned down to kiss her. “Taste your arousal,” he said. “I love that.” The kiss deepened, and she reached up with her bound hands to grab at his hair, needing to touch him some way, any way. He gently pushed her arms back down. “Not yet,” he said, then knelt between her legs. Leaning forward, he cupped each breast in a hand, then pulled her nipples until she squeaked.

“Ow,” she called out, although the bright pop of pain was not unwelcome; the sensation served to enhance the arousal.

He rolled the nipples between his fingers, then raked across her skin with his nails, making her giggle and shiver. “Zach, God, that feels… oh.”

The mixture of tickling and arousal made her quiver.

When he did it again and again, she bucked her hips and lifted her arms. “It’s, oh, God.”

He leaned in and took one nipple into his mouth and sucked, and she nearly levitated, then grabbed the sides of his hips with her legs. “Zach!”

He licked the other nipple, and bit it, and then reached down and tapped her clit, making a burst of arousal flood her belly. He slid a finger inside her and she moaned her approval, making sounds of pleasure as he stroked and fingered her, stoking her arousal.

It didn’t take long before she was nearing the edge once again, her orgasm building, powerful, her whole body keening for release.

But as she was about to tip over the edge, he withdrew his fingers and slipped out from between her legs. “No, Harper. Don’t do it.”

“Fuck!” she cried out in irritation and dismay. “I want to.”

“But you disobeyed me, remember?” His voice was light, teasing. “That means you don’t get to come… yet.”

Her breathing was rough, and the feeling as the orgasm started to recede was almost painful in disappointment. “Aarrgggh.”

“Next time, you’ll listen,” he suggested, grinning at her. “Isn’t that right? Will you obey me next time, Harper, so I don’t have to tease you like this?”

“I promise I’ll obey you, Zach. I promise.” Was that her voice, so high and breathy, so full of sex and submission? As if from above, she imagined herself lying naked, tied up, wet and needy, begging for his touch.

“Good. Let’s hope you do.”

He sat on the bed again and pulled her to his body. “Over my lap now, for a quick reminder.”

“A what?”

“What do you think?” His voice was silky and he positioned her over his hard thighs. “What do you think I’m going to do to remind you?”

“Spank me?” Her voice was at once nervous and eager.

“Hmmm.” He rested one hand across both buttocks, fingers splayed out. “Do you know how wet you are? I can see it and smell it from here. Touch it.” He dipped his middle finger down. “Spread your legs a little. Yeah.” He inserted his finger into her body and she whined, pushing up into his touch. “So fucking wet. You like playing like this.”

“Zach.” She could only whisper.

“We’ll play a little more before I fuck you, because I can. And because you asked for it on the plane. And because you fucking like it.”

He lifted his hand and brought it down, a sharp crack, right in the middle of her ass. She flinched, but the sensation, a stinging burn, only increased her arousal.

“Because sometimes,” he continued, bringing his hand down again in another resounding crack, “disobedient women need a good spanking to help them learn to behave.”

But he stopped and rubbed her heated skin, then he bent over her and whispered, “What drink did I send you tonight? Tequila?”

“White wine,” she said into his leg, grabbing at his calf. “Delicious. I want more.”

He laughed. “It will be my pleasure.” And when his hand rained more slaps onto her ass, she learned the rhythm and found it was like a dance, a hard, unyielding dance, and when the sensation got to the point where she was ready for the next thing, she called his name once.

He understood and lifted her up into his arms, cradling her, stroking her skin, kissing her mouth, her neck, until she was kissing back, ravenous, both of them attacking each other with fervor.

The rest was like something they’d done before, effortless. When he laid her back down and took off his clothes, letting his cock jut up, strong and hard, taking only a minute to grab a condom. When he spread her thighs with his hands, caressing as he did it, and when he pushed into her body, eyes locked onto hers, pumping softly and then harder. The sweet, unbearably delicious bliss that flooded her clit and her belly and her entire body, sparking through her nipples and veins and all through her skin.

When she came around him, crying out his name, he shouted hers and collapsed onto her, both of them breathing hard, sweating.

Chapter 23

Alone in the shower, Harper closed her eyes and let the fancy fixture rain silky drops down, relishing the heat and water, rubbing the floral body wash into her skin. Zach filled her mind: His face, his body, the look of passion he gave her before they kissed, when she knew what was coming, and he knew, and they both knew the other knew it—that fucking look. That sexy, dangerous little smirk. God. She felt aroused again already, just thinking of that expression.

His hard abs. The way he turned his head to look at something. His strong jaw. The way he smelled.

It struck her in that instant: She was completely infatuated. She’d told herself this was a fling, something fun. What happens in Phoenix stays in Phoenix, right? But it was too much, all of him together, his sexiness and his wit and his whole personality. She’d tried to keep it segregated, attempted to lock away her emotions, but he’d spilled over the borders and now she was infected with it. With him.

She liked him. A lot.

And that was going to be a problem, just like she’d predicted, because this wasn’t the kind of easy crush that would fade like a rainbow into the night. No, this was something bold and deep, a thing that grew, with roots so strong that they’d stay and fight and send out shoot after hopeful shoot of green into the air, over and over.

She wasn’t sorry. It had been a phenomenal night, something to treasure. How could something so beautiful be a mistake? Still, it would make the future harder, a little bleaker in some ways, heading back to Chicago at the end of the week with him under her skin, in her mind, living in her dreams, and not being able to have him like she wanted.

Was that the definition of coveting something? Wanting what you can’t have?

Poets said unrequited love could be the stuff of masterpieces. Not that this was love, not exactly. But it was more than like, more than want, more than desire.

She ran her hands over her breasts, remembering his touch, and squeezed her nipples. His voice. His mouth.

She didn’t want masterpieces. She already made masterpieces anyway, her photographs. She didn’t need more of those. She wanted him, warm and live, in her arms. Those poets weren’t entirely wrong; unrequited passion could probably be turned into other energies, but it was also sort of a sad truth, pathetic really, thinking of these people, alone and suffering, using their angst to create flat works without souls, all because they longed for the one soul they could never have.

Of course, she corrected herself, famous works of art lasted precisely because they did have a soul, in a way; they showed us something eternal to the human condition, something we recognized as essentially human and beautiful. But fuck that. She’d rather have Zach than paint a million Sistine Chapels.

Because that couldn’t have been comfortable, anyway, lying on your back, painting.

She thought that Zach might enjoy this train of thought. He’d probably say something funny and gross, like, “Lie on your back and watch me paint your chapel, baby.”

Or, in a more serious moment, maybe they’d talk about art and love. He was really very insightful and interesting.

She moved her hands back to her nipples, rubbing them over and over, feeling an answering call in her belly. Propping one foot up on the ledge, she reached down to stroke herself, moving her hips slightly out of the flow of water so her moisture could coat her fingers. One hand on her breast, one on her clit, Zach in her mind, kissing her mouth, touching her ass—and she came, a muted, beautiful little orgasm that furled to life in her palm and grew stronger until she cried out to herself in the shower with her own pleasure. Then, drained, she rinsed her fingers and splayed her fingers on her belly, closing her eyes, stepping back into the middle, letting herself relax and just enjoy the water.

Things should have been awkward, she thought, but they were not. He put his hand on her back on the way to breakfast, sneaking an ass squeeze when nobody was looking. She squealed and pulled away, but he did it again, and then kissed her cheek.

He brought her coffee. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“Well, now that the bet’s off, I plan on taking a million pictures,” she answered, then giggled. “Kidding!”

“I was serious. I’m satisfied with everything you already took,” he said. “I wasn’t just saying that to, ah, you know.”

“Get me into bed?” She quirked a brow.

“Yes.”

“What’s on your agenda?”

“I have a few hours of calls to make. Then, if you can clear some space on your busy calendar, maybe we can go do some of those other things on your list. The museum.”

“I’d like that.” She gave him a shy smile. Probably they should talk about what happened. But on the other hand, this was more fun, just going with the flow. If it was a three-night stand, they should enjoy all three, right? Why ruin it with serious relationship-y discussions that could only bring an awkward tension and deflate the moment?

If he was content to just whatever, then she could do that, too. It was like a reprieve. She was a prisoner on death row who’d been granted a few extra days. No, scratch that—too horrible and ugly. She was a student who was blowing off exam studying in order to have sex with a hot guy, and the exam was just postponed for a few more days. Whee! Yippee!

“Something funny?” He noticed her smile.

“I’m just happy.” She grinned at him.

“Yeah? So am I.” He took her hand across the small table. “I’m really glad the bet ended up how it did. And our dates, too.”

“Yes.” She smiled more broadly. “I’ve never enjoyed texting more in my life.”

“It certainly made my evening better.” He lowered his voice. “You were so fucking hot, Harper, teasing me like that. And when you sent me your panties?”

“Oh, was that hard for you?” she asked, giving him an innocent gaze.

“In more ways than one,” he said ruefully. “I wanted to go over there and pick you up and fuck you on that patio, not giving one thought about who was watching.”

“Yeah, too bad for those pesky laws about public indecency,” she agreed. “Stupid backwards rules.”

“If you want to be on display, there are places we can go,” he murmured, giving her a sly grin. “There’s a club right in the downtown area, for example, where you can—”

“No!” She gave a sort of terrified giggle. “I was teasing! I don’t really want to do that in public.”

He laughed. “Got you.”

“Do you? Like public stuff?”

He shook his head. “No. I prefer giving my attention to entirely one person. I think with an audience, I’d be trying to please them, too. I like an audience of one. You.” His eyes darkened.

She caught her breath. “I like it better with one person, too. You.”

“Still think it would be hotter in Hawaii?” he teased her, running a finger down her arm.

“Hmmm. I don’t know. If I had a private pool, and Mai Tais, and hula music, I might be convinced to strip right out in the open.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I need to see the Fireflies exhibit.” Harper stuck her ticket into her purse and took Zach’s hand, or he took hers; either way, their hands were linked now, walking through a gallery of surrealist paintings by artist Philip C. Curtis.

“This one is pretty unusual.” Zach gestured at a canvas.

Harper stepped closer to read the golden plaque on the wall. “It’s called Farewell. He painted it in 1961.” She looked, then said, “It’s weird. It gives me that sad feeling I get with so many surrealist paintings.”

The canvas, a rectangle of about three feet wide by two feet tall, showed a family of tall, willowy people on a Western plain, waving goodbye to a little girl leaving on an old-fashioned but festive-looking train car. The women wore long, vivid red dresses and shawls with realistic wind-blown pleats, the man was in a suit. The light and dark colors seemed reminiscent of a dream turning into a nightmare, the details on the bark of the tree at odds with the slightly unrealistic nature to the work. It was a Western world, with hard ground and a large, wind-gnarled tree at an abrupt angle, separating the train car from the people. The woman (a mother?) waved a white handkerchief, but the girl, in curls and an old-fashioned dress, had her arms up in a pose of playful abandon, as opposed to the sadness of the group.

“Is she dead?” Harper asked finally. “I think it means she’s dead, that young girl going off on that pretty train car with the wrought-iron rail, all alone.”

Zach tilted his head. “I don’t know. Look how the train car and the girl are like a separate painting within a painting. On a panel, like they’re waving goodbye to a billboard. Almost like she’s not real, and they’re waving goodbye to a memory.”

“Maybe she is a memory, then. She’s dead and they’re remembering her. Look how the little boy has his back to her, holding his dad’s hand, looking at the ground. It’s like he doesn’t notice she’s going away.”

“Maybe it’s an allegory,” Zach stepped in. “Death takes people away, but the memories live on, the good ones, if you’re old enough to remember, anyway. And life goes on for the living, whether they remember or not. That’s why she’s not sad, the girl. They’re sad, maybe, but they’re remembering her as she was, good-natured and jolly.”

“Or is she not happy after all, there? Is she asking for help she can’t get? She doesn’t look that distressed, but I can’t tell if she’s genuinely happy.” Harper stepped closer as if proximity could give her the answer, but the girl’s enigmatic face yielded no answers.

“I read up on his last time I was here,” commented Zach. “He’s supposed to be a little different from the European surrealists. One book called him a hopeful surrealist. As if the edge of total despair and bleak emptiness is tempered by just the smallest amount of hope.”

“I like that,” Harper said. “The whisper of hope coming in. I mean, I love Dali because he’s crazy and wild and fantastic. And Magritte. But yeah, Dali’s pictures are pretty bleak, if you examine them. And Magritte’s are entirely lonely. I think it’s cool that someone tried to build hope right into their works.”

Zach squeezed her hand. “The American in him, maybe?”

Harper smiled. “Sure, why not? Isn’t that the American frontier spirit, after all? Just keep going and going, like the Energizer bunny. Never give up, always stay strong, always explore and claim and advance. Like an army or a virus.” She sighed. “But progress always, and that idealist dream that it will all be wonderful in the end someday.”

“That’s what keeps us going, I think. That dream, that we’re going to build the life we want, the perfect one.” His voice sounded a little melancholy. “The hope that you’ll find what makes you complete.”

“I think you’re right.” They stood side by side, examining the picture. “Maybe it’s really a reminder to seize the day. Take advantage of life while you can.”

“So now let’s see that one you wanted. Fireflies.” Zach smiled at her, his face lighting up, and she caught her breath at this handsome man with his gorgeous eyes, smiling at her. For her.

“Okay.” She smiled back, then, on a whim, reached up and ran a finger down his chiseled jaw.

He grabbed her hand and kissed her fingers. “You lead the way, Harper.”

As they walked through other galleries, catching tantalizing glimpses of color and form, she told him what she knew about the creator of the Fireflies exhibit. “This artist is from Japan. She’s amazing—she was one of the first women artists to break the gender barrier in the 1960s. She’s famous for her polka dots, her orange wig, and her avant garde art. And earlier, for her orgiastic photographs and sexual performance art.”

“Wait, her what?” Zach stopped and raised his eyebrows. “You just threw that in there. Really?” A huge plate glass window behind him perfectly framed a desert tree in the courtyard, a living piece of art. Harper noticed how the shadows played on the floor, dancing softly. A docent stood at the side of the room, silent, a pleasant expression on her face, watching. Each room had a docent. It was both comforting and slightly annoying. Later, she’d ask Zach if he thought someday these docents would be replaced by robotic humanoids.

Harper flushed. “She organized sex shows and photographed them. She was really very advanced for her time.”

“I see.” Zach lowered his voice. “Is she, like thirty and hot?” He winked. “Just joking.”

Harper punched him. “She’s like in her eighties now, she’s still funky and cool. She never lost her zest. Well, she voluntarily lived in a psychiatric hospital as an outpatient across from her gallery for decades. But that makes me even more in awe of her. No matter what demons she was fighting, she kept making her art. I love that about her.”

“Another hint at the incredibly diverse art world that stems from Japan and Japanese culture,” Zach added. “Let’s see how it compares to the Philip C. Curtis stuff.”

It didn’t compare at all. It was beyond comparisons, something new and unique, that she’d never seen before.

“Zach!” she whispered, as they stepped into the room that held the installation, feet echoing slightly on the black granite floors, against the black Plexiglas ceiling. “God.”

It was impossible to tell how large the room was, dark as it was, and completely full of ropes of tiny hanging LED lights and mirrored walls. The lights twinkled and flashed, different colors, different patterns, reflected over and over in the mirrors. She felt dizzy for a minute, like she was staring out into the entire universe, into eternity. “This is incredible.”

She let go of his hand and tuned around, put her hands up like the girl in the Curtis portrait. “It’s like the entire galaxy in here, with us. Or we’re in it.” She felt awed, like she felt sometimes, rarely, in a place of great beauty or spirituality, like a cathedral. “How can something like this exist in a museum? It’s like we stepped into a portal into another world.”

“It’s fantastic,” he agreed.

“All I can see are lights and lights. It looks like they go on for miles, forever. I could run and run and never run out of space.” She turned, trying to find the edges of the room, yet not wanting to, not wanting to see the human effort behind the magic.

“It’s like we’re inside of infinity,” Zach said eventually, his voice low.

“It is. Anything could happen. I think this room—it’s like falling in love.” Her tone was hushed. “In love with life and art and everything. It’s like a carwash for the soul.” She turned to Zach, nearly missing him in the dark. “Don’t you feel sort of weightless, almost?”

He put his arm around her shoulder. “Not when I’m with you.”

She wrapped her arm around his waist. “I want to stay in here forever. For an hour at least. Just sit in here, in a deck chair, and look around, and nap, and look around again. I want this room to be ours, just for us.”

“We came at a good time. It is ours, for right now, anyway.”

“It’s even prettier than the view from above, the city view from Rustler’s Rooste. Because here we’re right inside all of the lights, you know?”

“I agree.”

“I want it forever. I want it to be mine.” She laughed self-consciously. “That sounds greedy. But it’s so… pretty. I have to soak it up inside me, so I have it always.” She took a deep breath and looked around again, imaging being in space, all of the lights all around her. “Do you have that feeling, ever? Like something is so good, so crazy unbelievably good and awesome and makes you feel so perfect, that you need to somehow etch that moment into your brain so you can remember it forever?”

“Yeah.” He squeezed her again. “I do.” His voice was low and sure. “I do.”

Later on, filled with the awe and joy of the day, Harper hummed to herself while organizing things she’d purchased from the gift shop: postcards that didn’t do justice to Fireflies but that she had to have; small trinkets that were artistic; and a hard-cover art book of Philip C. Curtis’ work. A book about Yayoi Kusuma, who’d lived a life so eccentric you would never believe it if it were a fictional novel. People who had jumped into their passion and lived it their entire lives.

Zach was next door, calling into meetings, so she had some time to spend on her own, and she decided to drive around Phoenix without her camera, just seeing the city. The bet was over, long over; it didn’t matter if she photographed things or not. But she liked the feeling of empty hands in her free time, for a change.

Without the camera, she couldn’t take pictures. Without the camera, she didn’t need to take perfect pictures that completely captured the essential soul and moment of a place. She didn’t agonize over the light, the placement, her stance, the angles. She was free.

She sat in a little café and watched the world, thinking about future projects, jotting ideas in her journal. A woman rode by on a bicycle, right next to a huge mural of a woman riding a bicycle. And it was okay that it went unphotographed.

No matter what happened with Zach, she was going to come away from this trip with new experiences and insights into the world. Not just the fantastic sex, but the conversations, and the way the city came alive when they saw it together, like two people completing a circuit. And it was the first time in a long time that she’d allowed herself to exist without her camera, and she had to credit Zach for pushing her into that.

It was okay to take time to just be by herself, to make her own moments, instead of capturing someone else’s moments. To plan for her own life, instead of documenting everyone else’s while hers passed by in the same instant.

Whether Zach would be part of her future or not, she didn’t know for sure, but either way, she was going to be all right.

Chapter 24

“Harper, I present to you your very own private, tropical pool.” His eyes glinted dangerously in the light from the torches. “I’ve also arranged for a pitcher of Mai Tais. And is that hula music I hear?” He made a show of cupping his hand to his ear. “Why, it is!”

“You really pulled off some magic to get us the honeymoon suite with the private pool for our last night here.”

He smiled. “It was available for one night, and Jeremy comped it to us for our business. Now, it’s time to strip.” He pointed to the spot in front of his spread legs, and gave her a lazy smile. “Time to pay your bet.”

“Zach!” She glanced around.

“Remember what you said a while back? That if I provided you a tropical pool and Mai Tais and Hawaiian music, you’d strip right by the pool for me?”

“But someone might see.”

“Nobody will see you except for me. It’s private for a reason. Now.” He picked up his drink and took a sip, maintaining eye contact. “Unless, of course, you want me to spank you first.” He raised an eyebrow.

“Well, people might hear that.”

“Well, then.” He twirled a finger. “Get started.”

The bulge in his pants let her know exactly how eager he was for her to get started, and she smiled. “Since you asked so nicely.” She slid the thin straps of her dress down her shoulders. “I might consider accommodating you.”

“Oh, you’ll be accommodating me, all right,” he murmured.

She tugged the stretchy fabric down her body. “Oh, is that so?”

“Mmm hmm.” His eyes traced her movements. “Fuck, Harper, are you naked under that dress?” His voice rose.

“Yes, I am. All night, too. When I was with you at the bar and everything.”

“Holy fuck.” He put down his drink. “Now for that I really should punish you.”

“Or you could reward me,” she whispered, running her hands over her breasts and pulling her nipples, then moving upward to toss her hair over her shoulder.

“Maybe I’ll do both,” he said. “Come here.”

She sashayed forward, then bent down to kiss him, and he reached up to pull her onto his lap.

“Ride me,” he said, his voice low and silvery in the moonlight, so she acquiesced, putting one thigh on either side of his lap. “I’m going to touch you while we kiss,” he promised, “until you’re begging me to let you come. I want to hear you beg.”

“I’m not going to beg,” she said.

“We’ll see.” He trailed a finger up her thigh. “Want to bet on it?”

“For?” Her eyelids flickered closed. He closed his mouth around one nipple and sucked, and she moaned.

He released the nipple with a pop. “Pleasure,” he whispered. “If I don’t have you begging in five minutes, I’ll do whatever you want for the next ten minutes. But if you do beg, then you’ll please me in any way I desire.”

“And all I have to do is to not beg you?” She opened her eyes and smirked. “Deal.”

He laughed, and it sounded dangerous. “You ready?”

“Sure. Go ahe… aaaaaah,” she murmured, as his palm cupped her mound and he put his mouth onto her other nipple. “God, that feels so good.”

“Enjoy,” he said, and flicked her nipple with his tongue, again and again, then bit it gently so she cried out and arched into his body, wanting more than his palm touching between her thighs. He spread out his fingers, and she could feel the heat of each one of them pressing against her body, but still he didn’t make a move to stroke her clit, but just let his warm hand rest there while he continued to play with her breasts, first one, then the other.

After a minute, she shifted, restless, needing more. “Zach,” she urged.

“Yes?” he said, pulling her closer with his free hand, and speaking into her neck. The vibrations of his mouth made her shiver with anticipation.

“I like that,” she said, not wanting to say anything that sounded remotely like a plea.

“I thought you might,” he said, a smile in his voice.

“But not enough to ooooooooh,” she sighed, because he inserted two fingers inside her pussy and used the flat of his hand to press up into her clit. She wiggled against him, needing more friction, more stimulation.

He stroked inside her with his fingers, finding the spot that drove her wild, and she pushed harder into him, trying to get him to provide more stimulation. He put his other hand onto her back and pulled her to his mouth, this time treating her nipples more aggressively, biting harder, sucking longer, until she couldn’t stand it.

“Zach!” she cried out.

“Ready to beg?” he asked.

“No, but I want… I wish…”

“You don’t get to come,” he ordered her. “You come, you lose. This is all about whether or not you can make it the full five minutes without begging me for it.”

“But I…”

He reached his other hand behind her and inserted the tip of one finger into her anus, still stroking inside her with the fingers of his other hand, and she nearly imploded with need. She was climbing, climbing, but if he didn’t touch her clit right the fuck now she was going to have an orgasm that was weak. But she knew that if he just started working her clit, God, the release would be tremendous. Her thighs shuddered with the tension and finally she couldn’t stand it one second longer.

“Zach, please.”

“What’s that?”

“I said, please,” she whispered.

“Why, Harper, it sounds a lot like you’re begging.” He sounded pleased. He continued working her with both hands.

“It’s a request,” she gasped, as he flicked her clit and then stroked so softly she thought she might die. “A serious request.”

“Just a request?” He did something with his hands that made her cry out in need.

“Zach, please, okay, yes, I’ll beg, just please keep doing that, don’t stop,” she exclaimed, pushing into his body with hers.

But to her dismay he removed his hands from her body and shifted her on his lap. “Winner’s choice,” he murmured, pulling her closer and speaking into her lips. “And after that, I’ll finish what I started.”

“Zach!” Deprived of the orgasm, the loss almost painful, she nearly cried with frustration. “You can’t do that.”

“Shhh, it will be even better when I build you up again,” he promised. “And now, I think we need to take this inside, because what I want requires comfort not available here by the poolside.” He stood up and scooped her up into his arms, and walked the few steps to their patio door, which he slid open with his foot. He deposited her onto the bed, then closed the door and the blinds.

“Now.” He stood facing her, legs spread, arms crossed. “Be a good girl, Harper, and lie back on the pillow, hands by your head. Spread your legs as wide as you can.”

When she widened her eyes, he held up a finger and warned her, although there was a smile in his eye, “Or else I’ll make you wait that much longer.”

His eyes glittered with need, and she felt it, too, the unstoppable crush of passion in her blood. She lay back, locked in his gaze, put her hands up, and slid her thighs apart.

“Good. Fuck.” He pulled off his swim trunks and stood there, gloriously naked, hard and long.

He approached her and got onto the bed, put one of her legs over his shoulder, held her other thigh in his hand. “Where did we leave off?” He pulled her hips to him and bent his head down, and when he kissed her inner thigh, she moaned and twisted her hips, trying to push up to his tongue.

“No,” he scolded her, with a small slap on her buttock. “Wait.”

He kissed again, and stroked her body, then gave her the lightest lick right on her clit.

It was like electricity, and she cried out, wanting more, but then he slid away from her body.

“For my prize,” he whispered, “for winning the bet before, I want you dying for my touch, begging for me, while you suck my cock. The whole time I want you to be barely able to hold off, but you will, because I told you to wait. The sweetest torture you can imagine, being on the edge for so long, before I grant you release.”

He lay down beside her, his hard cock jutting up. “Put your mouth on me, Harper.”

At his command, she got onto all fours and bent over him, eager to taste him, feel him in her mouth. She licked the tip, and was gratified to hear him suck in his breath, to feel his thighs tense under her touch. Emboldened by his response, she took him into her mouth for a second, sucking hard, then released him with a pop.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he murmured. “Keep doing that.”

She swirled her tongue and licked, getting into a rhythm, learning what he liked from the way he responded to her with his body and voice. He got harder, if possible, when she deliberately took him deep into her throat. She shifted, trying to rub her thighs together, but it was ineffectual. She moaned, needing his touch.

“Do you want me, too?” he asked, his voice low and sexy. “Are you wishing my mouth was on you, too?”

“Yes,” she whispered, taking a breath.

“Good. Keep licking me.”

She groaned in frustration, but bent her head down, enjoying this game for what it was, liking the feeling building in her, the need, knowing that the eventual orgasm was going to be explosive. Having him be in charge was so sexy, and although she’d never let another man order her around like this, with Zach it just felt… right. She shifted her thighs together harder, elevating one knee, trying to force frictional pressure onto her clit by squeezing her muscles hard.

Zach noticed. “Spread your thighs,” he ordered, noticing her pressing her legs together. “I want them wide, kissed by the air of the room. Don’t press them together. Lick.”

She did it, maintaining her movements, sliding her tongue up and down his cock, licking over the tip like an ice-cream cone, lapping up his salty essence.

“Imagine, now that your pussy is exposed, that I’m about to touch you, to put my lips there,” he murmured. “Do you like that?”

“Mmm,” she nodded, still licking.

“I’d stick my tongue right into your pussy, so deep you’d cry out,” he said. “Then I’d lick your clit and make you scream.”

She felt new moisture surge and clenched her thighs, dying for his touch. She came up, panting, to look at his eyes. “Zach, please.”

“You want that?”

“Yes, yes, I do!” She wiped her mouth and eyes. “God, yes.”

“Not yet. Back down.” He pointed. “You have work do to yet before I pleasure you.”

“Asshole.”

“Really?” He sounded amused. “So you don’t want it after all, is that what you’re saying?”

“No!” she wailed, then put her mouth back onto his cock, closing her lips around him and sucking.

“Keep that up,” he said, lying back again. “Yeah, just like that. Fuck. Keep those thighs nice and wide, too. I don’t want to see you cheating and trying to get pleasure before I say you can.”

She moaned against his cock, and for a few minutes, the room was silent except for sucking and breathing sounds. The need growing in her belly was intense, and she was about to beg him once again when he spoke.

He grabbed her hair gently and stilled her motions. “Turn around,” he demanded. “Put your pussy by my mouth while you suck me, so I can play with you.”

She straddled him, wiping saliva from the corner of her mouth, panting a little bit from the effort of her work. Then she got onto her hands and knees, adjusting herself to be able to suck him again, learning the new angle.

He slapped her ass once. “Keep licking me, Harper,” he said when she took a break, and then gave her another slap even when she put her mouth back. “How do you like this?” he murmured. “Having your ass in my face so I can lick you and spank you and tease you?”

He reached between her thighs. “Spread wider for me.” She did, changing her arms, too, to account for the new position. “Should I touch you now that you’re so close?”

“Yes, please, I’m begging,” she cried out, needy for his touch, not embarrassed to beg.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He stroked her once, then again, and inserted his fingers, and she sobbed without tears, her body shuddering with the pleasure, which felt so fucking good after the long denial. Then he fingered her clit and played with her pussy while she licked him, until she was nearly at the same place she’d been by the pool.

“Zach,” she moaned, coming up for air. “I want, I want…”

“You want to come?” he said in a low voice. “But I can keep going for a while, baby. So head back down.” He slapped her ass. “Take me nice and deep again, all the way into your throat, and hold it there for a few seconds before you come up. Keep doing that, and I’ll keep touching you. Stop, and I stop.”

“But Zach…”

He removed his fingers from her body and she ducked her head down, needy for his touch. Her arms were already quivering with the strain of holding her position while moving her head to take him deep into her throat, but she’d do anything to keep those magical fingers working her clit.

She sucked for a while before he put his hands back, but it was all worth it to feel that growing passion unfurl in her belly, gaining momentum second by second. As her need mounted, her movements became more frantic. She took him deeper into her throat, held him there longer, sucked harder when she released him to breathe. And before long she was writhing in his hands, begging him for release.

“Zach, please,” she whispered between labored breaths. “Please, please, I need it so bad.”

He was so hard now, and his thighs were taut, and she could tell he was nearly as close as she was to the edge. “Please,” she whispered. “It’s going to be so good. Stop making me wait.”

He tugged at her waist to urge her to sit on his lap, then pulled beside him. “Lie on your stomach,” he said, reaching down to stroke his cock himself.

With relief and anticipation, she eagerly got into position, and a second later she felt him on top of her, his chest hot and strong against her back, his hard cock pushing into her buttocks. He propped himself on one arm and stroked along her body with the other, the side of her breast, down her stomach, her hip. His weight was heavy but not too much, and to have him skin on skin was so good that she wanted to cry. “You want me to fuck you now?” he asked, the words the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Get on all fours,” he said, moving back and adjusting her hips, “and hold on tight, because I’m going hard, Harper. You good with that?”

“God, yes.”

He slapped her ass one more time, the crack reverberating around the room, and the sting and tingle ignited all of her nerve endings. She wiggled her ass at him, spreading her thighs wider—she was going to die, right this second, if he didn’t just fuck her already.

When he pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance, she twitched her body to invite him further in, but he took his time, going slowly, inch by inch, caressing her hips and ass while he did, and the soft touch drove her wild.

“Zach, just fuck me!” she wailed out in frustration and need.

“Oh, yeah?” he said, and then he started pumping her, slowly at first, then harder, until he was driving his cock all the way home, as far as he could go, reaching under her to touch her clit while he thrust.

“You want to come?” he demanded, when she whimpered and bucked her hips. “You want to come, Harper?”

“Yes,” she managed, a strangled cry.

“Then go ahead. Come all over my cock,” he ordered, and she exploded, white-hot lightning pulsing behind her eyes and shooting from her core all through her body, sweet molten sugar burning her up from the inside out.

She cried out, intelligible sounds, as she writhed and twisted into him, forcing his cock and fingers to just the exact spot to blow her mind. He came, too, in the middle of her bliss, and grabbed his hips hard with his hands, pushing once into her, and then again, mating, staying there, and she felt him pulse inside her with his own release. He gave a harsh, guttural sound and was silent, but his breathing and his body let her know how intense his own pleasure must be.

Later, lying side by side, fingers entwined, the smell of sex and the plumeria candles in the air, she felt so sated and satisfied that she was nearly floating. She rolled over to put her hand on his chest, feeling the even heartbeat there.

“You good?” He put his arm around her, tugging her into his warmth. She stroked his flat stomach, feeling the dips and planes of his six-pack, then ran a hand over his cheek, feeling the stubble there.

“Yeah,” she said dreamily. “Very good. You?”

“Perfect.” He smiled at her, and her heart melted. “So I know this isn’t Hawaii, but I think we made out okay.”

“I don’t know,” she teased. “I think it might still be hotter in Hawaii.”

He laughed. “I assume that’s a challenge, Harper. And I’m a man that always likes to rise… to the occasion.” He raised an eyebrow.

She giggled. “Please feel free to rise to my occasion anytime.”

“I’d be glad to rise into your occasion again, Harper.”

He bit her lower lip and she squeaked, then gave out a little breathy sound as the bite turned into a kiss, deep and passionate.

And for the rest of that night, he made it entirely clear that things could not possibly be hotter, not in Hawaii, not anywhere.

Chapter 25

“So you all packed and ready to go?” Zach knocked on the connecting door, which was half-open.

“Yes, I just need to leave a tip for the maid.” She grabbed a twenty from her purse and tucked it under the remote, which she’d arranged carefully atop the Phoenix City magazine on the desk. “How much did you leave? Should we leave the same amount, because if we don’t, one of us will look cheap and asshole-y?”

“I left fifty.”

“Fuck.” She tugged another bill from her wallet. “Thank God I have some cash.”

He laughed. “You don’t need to match me.”

“But I’ll feel like a jerk if I don’t! And she probably works really hard and deserves a good tip. Lots of people probably don’t leave any. What’s the rule, anyway?”

“I don’t know if there’s a rule. I think generally a few dollars a day, more in a high-end place like this one. Although I should point out that you can put the tip for housekeeping into your expense report.” He raised an eyebrow. “And I’m sure we could charge it and have it given to her at the front desk.”

“Oh, okay, then. Should I leave her five hundred dollars?”

He inclined his head. “You must have really loved the way the pillows were fluffed.”

“Yes. And the way the counter was wiped? Magical, plain and simple.”

He laughed. “I like a woman who’s so easily pleased.”

She punched him. “I like a man who can please a woman even when it’s not easy.”

“Hmmm. Like last night. You seemed extremely… pleased.” He leaned in and kissed her neck, and she melted into his embrace.

“I might have been adequately entertained,” she allowed, then gasped as he bit her ear and trailed his mouth over to hers, at the same time cupping a breast.

“Just adequate?” He gave her a stern look, and raised her skirt with one hand, running his palm over her ass. “Maybe I should remind you about how you begged me to let you come and shouted my name even though we were in the private pool.”

She flushed.

“Or how you whimpered and sobbed and twisted your hips to find my mouth, again and again, when I was licking you,” he whispered. “Remember that?”

“Yes,” she murmured. “It’s coming back to me.”

“It is?” he said, running his fingers up her thigh and stopping at the juncture. “Too bad we don’t have more time right now, or it would be coming to you again, right now.”

She bit his ear, just like he’d bitten hers, enjoying the growly noise he made. “Maybe we can join the mile-high club on the airplane, though. I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“You sure you’re okay to fly?” He pulled back to check her face.

She nodded. “I am. I got a prescription for Ativan from the clinic, my doctor called it in. I don’t want to take it, but I feel better knowing it’s with me, you know?” She touched his hand. “And I, ah, took Elle’s advice and it actually helped me get prepared.”

He took the handles of their suitcases and started down the path. “Elle’s advice? Did it have something to do with large mammals?”

“Haha. No. She told me to binge watch Ice Pilots on Netflix. She even told me which episodes to watch. So I tried it.”

“I’ve never seen that show.” He held the lobby door for her.

“Oh, it’s insane. It’s a show about these rugged bush pilots in the Northwest Territories of Canada, who fly when it’s sixty below zero, in these old warbirds that nobody else in the world can fly. People come from all over to try flying these planes with Joe and his crew. They’re some of the most complicated and dangerous airplanes in existence, and they’re always breaking down, and the pilots and mechanics all have to be a combination of a fighter pilot and a MacGyver and a Batman and stuff to fix things and handle emergencies.”

“How did that help you, exactly?” He stood their suitcases side by side by the front plate glass window. “Wouldn’t that feed your fear?”

“Well, I thought so at first. But after you see the crew deal with an engine fire, and icing on wings that have no de-icing equipment, and landing without all of the landing gear down, and having engine failure, and landing on ice strips, you realize that airplanes are pretty fucking rugged. And that if they can fly and land those pieces of shit in those incredibly horrible conditions, then modern jetliners are really very, very safe.”

She took a deep breath. “At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. And I’m not all that worried.”

“Well, I’m glad it helped. Although I bet they wouldn’t be pleased to hear you call their planes pieces of shit.”

She smiled. “Well, if we meet them someday, we’ll call them pieces of beautiful smooth perfection.”

“Deal.” He put his arm around her and squeezed.

“We can say goodbye to Jeremy—there he is.” She pointed, and the resort owner came over, smiling, hand extended to shake.

As the plane sped up, she squeezed Zach’s hand, nervous despite her earlier bravado. But these were her normal butterflies, not that all-consuming panic that had occurred during the flap situation.

“You good?” Zach leaned in, looking concerned.

She nodded. “Just going to keep holding your hand, though.”

“You do have quite a grip. You promised, and you delivered,” he joked.

She gave him a dirty look.

“At the pool, I appreciated that grip very much,” he whispered. “But here, if you keep holding me that tightly, your powerful, masterful anaconda-like squeeze is going to turn my hands into tiny doll-sized replicas.”

“Trump hands.”

He nodded. “And how can I grab you by the pussy if I have such tiny hands? You’ve got to ease up, for both of our sakes.”

“You’re lucky that my hands are occupied,” she told him. “Or else I’d have to punch you in the stomach.”

He laughed. “Sure, go ahead and do your girl punch on me. I love fake wrestling. It always leads to really awesome sex.”

“You suck!”

“I will, if you want, but later. We do that now, the flight attendant isn’t going give us that second drink.”

“Ugh.” But she loved joking around with him, and before she knew it, the plane had evened out, and they were having a glass of wine, and she wasn’t even freaking out the tiniest bit.

The ride was smooth and steady, the air hissing around her, and she felt giddy and distant. It hit her, all of a sudden, that the trip was almost over, and a sadness came over her. She and Zach were headed back from paradise. Well, maybe some people might not consider hot Phoenix in the summer heat to be “paradise,” but the time she’d spent with him there was far better, she knew, than being in Honolulu with Josh. That dry desert had become a tropical paradise for sure, in Zach’s clever hands.

He seemed to notice her pensive gaze. “What are you thinking about?”

“What are we doing?” She looked at him.

He didn’t joke around. “I guess we should talk about that.” He looked serious.

She smiled. “Truth at thirty thousand feet again. Just, promise we’ll be honest.” Her heart sped up. She was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say. It had been fun, more than fun, but they were on different paths, and blah blah blah. And she had chosen to be with him despite that, had decided to accept the short-term passion even if it meant a long, difficult road to forgetting about him.

“Truth?” He glanced out the window, then at her.

She nodded.

“Okay.” He took a breath. “Here’s something true. After that night in San Diego, when you and I almost, ah, had a thing, and I slept with Sherry?”

She rolled her eyes. “Zach, I—”

“I didn’t sleep with anyone else until you. Just now. This week. Here in Phoenix.”

Stunned, she shut her mouth. “What?”

He sounded a little tense. “What I said. I haven’t slept with anyone since then, until you.”

“But that’s been, like, four months!” Dumbfounded, she blinked. “I thought, you, I thought…”

“I know what you thought.” His voice was hard, and he softened it. “And I get why you thought that. The night that we almost… Obviously, to see me so soon afterward with another woman, that made me look like a playboy. I get it. And I do flirt a lot, it’s true.”

“I had no, wow.” She tried to process this, and what it meant for her, for them.

“I know I have the reputation at work, with my friends, as being a guy who plays around and doesn’t settle down,” he admitted. “And it was kind of fun to cultivate that attitude, because I didn’t really want to settle down. I enjoyed meeting a lot of different women, for short-term flings. But when I met you, I really liked you.”

“Zach?”

“I really liked you, and when I messed that up, that night in San Diego, I… needed some time to think things through. Make some choices about my life and what I wanted. I mean, it’s not as simple as me saying to myself, I met Harper and now I can’t fuck anyone else. I don’t want to give you that impression.”

“So this isn’t about me? Or it is? I don’t understand.”

“It was about you in a general way. It was about me being an asshole to a woman who was cool and sexy and nice and who deserved better. And that woman was you, so in that sense it was about you. But it was more a revelation that I was living my life in a way that was profoundly not what I wanted to be. Not treating people the way I wanted to treat them, overall.”

“I see.”

“No, you don’t, not yet, I think. Let me get to my other point.” He took her hand. “But after that night, I did keep thinking about you, and that kiss. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. So I asked Raj to reach out to you about the Hawaii job.”

“Wait, I don’t understand. Did you not hire me because of my photography skills?”

“Of course we hired you because of your skills. But I wanted to see you again, just to see if there was any spark at all, the spark I’d remembered. I needed to see. I kept thinking about you.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what to say.

“And then when we still had that passion, I mean, we both felt it immediately.”

She nodded.

“And we talked. And when I looked into your eyes. Suddenly it was about you, and not you as a random person, but as you. Harper.”

“What are you saying, Zach?”

“I’m saying that I know you think I’m a womanizing asshole, and I may have been that in the past. But the man sitting next to you right now, the person I am right this minute, I’m not that guy. I’m someone who wants to try something real with you.” His voice was earnest. “This week with you has been—I mean, I don’t want to sound weird, but it’s been a highlight of my life.”

She felt tears in her eyes. “Zach, I feel that way, too.”

His eyes lit up. “You do?”

She nodded. “I had a crush on you since I met you in San Diego, and I tried to forget about you. But when we met again in your office in Chicago, I—the attraction was so powerful. And then when we spent all that time talking, I really liked you. As a person, too. And that’s why I was so reluctant to spend the night with you, because I thought I’d fall really hard, now that I actually liked you as a person, too. It would be that much harder to leave.”

“Ah, Harper, I like you as a person, too. And I like having sex with you.”

“The sex part is pretty phenomenal.” She grabbed his hand. “So does that mean, like, are we…”

“Together. We’re together. Just us. You and me. Okay?”

“Okay.” She smiled up at him. “Okay.”

The plane lurched just a bit, and he put his hands on her face. “Not to worry. I slipped the pilot a few bills and asked him to make it bumpy so you’d want to kiss me again.”

She laughed. “I like the way you think.”

And as he drew her in for a kiss, his warm mouth a reward and a promise, she knew that this wasn’t the end of a journey, but the beginning of something even better.

Epilogue

“So you had a good trip?” Talia slid her purse onto the booth beside her and put down her drink.

“The best. Here’s a scorpion lollipop for you, and a tiny easel with a tiny painting.” Harper rustled around in her bag and pulled out the items. “Compliments of me, from Phoenix. The easel is probably made in China, but I bought it in Phoenix, so it counts. The lollipop, likewise, although that came from a special candy factory in California, originally.”

Talia examined the items. “You are nothing if not generous.”

“I am that.”

“So you came back with poison and toys and a boyfriend. Go, you.” Talia sounded enthusiastic. “I knew you wanted to fuck him.”

“Oh, stop. Yes, I did. But it’s not just about that.”

“I know. It’s just hard to believe. A week ago, you were single. Now you have someone.”

“Yeah, I do.” Harper smiled. “I do.”

“So it’s okay that I’m at your work happy hour?” Talia flipped her hair. “Do I have lipstick on my teeth?”

“Of course! I mean, no lipstick. And yes, okay that you’re here. It’s not like we’re going to talk business. And I’m sick of hearing you whine about Josh this and Josh’s dick that. Put your money where your mouth is and all that.”

“Haha, you’re really funny.” But Talia had an undeniable look of excitement on her face. “Did you bring him something, too?”

“Yeah, a picture of you in a bikini. Kidding. He gets a scorpion lollipop, too. And if he gets drunk enough tonight, he’ll probably eat it, so get ready for some excitement.”

“Okay. I’m just going to do a quick trip to the restroom.”

“See? It is restroom. I knew it.”

“Uh, where else should I pee? The lobby?” Talia rolled her eyes.

“No, it’s just something this awful date said. He called it bathroom, and at the time, I was all, why don’t you just tell me you’re going to pee-pee in the potty?” She laughed. “It was just off. But everything about that date was off. He could have spit diamonds out of his mouth and I would have hated them.”

“Hold that thought. Save my seat.” Talia got up and clicked her way to the back corridor.

“Hey.”

She looked up into Zach’s face. “Hi!” She flushed and started to stand, but he slid in beside her and kissed her on the mouth. “You’re here.”

“I missed you today,” he whispered in her ear. “I thought about you all day long.”

“Oh, did you?” Instant arousal surged. She glanced around, then put a hand on his thigh. “We should try to leave early.”

“I intend to. I think—oh, hey, Josh.” He nodded at his friend.

Josh greeted them with hugs. “Hey. Welcome back, Harper. Saw the pics—great job on the desert. Sorry you had to miss paradise, though. It really was hotter in Hawaii. We missed you on the ocean, and at the luau, and on the diving trip, and seeing the gorgeous scenery.”

“Brag all you want. I had a great time.” She flushed as Zach put his arm around her.

Josh raised his eyebrows. “I see how it is. Okay. Hey, I brought you a keychain.” He fished it out of his pocket, passed it across the table top.

“Mine’s better. See?” She passed over the scorpion.

“Suh-weet!” Josh unwrapped the plastic immediately. “Mmm, banana. I love it. I’m going to use it to stir my drink and startle people.” He laughed, then asked with nonchalance, “So, hey, I heard that you invited your friend to join us. The one who came to the holiday party?” A ruddy flush arose along his jawline. “She seemed kind of cool, and stuff.”

“I’m not sure who you mean?” Harper held back a laugh and quirked her brow at Josh.

“Oh. You don’t? I thought you’d remember. She did the thing, with the copier, and her, ah…” Josh gestured as if holding up two breasts and showing them off. “Uh, cleavage. She was kind of interesting. Is she bringing her boyfriend?”

Behind them, Talia made a sort of squeak. “Hi.” Her face was red.

“Oh! Hello.” Josh stood up and set the candy down on the table, wiping his hands on his jeans. He stuck out one hand. “Good to see you. I’m Josh! I was just saying to Harper how it might be nice if you… came.”

“I heard you.” Talia bit her lip. “And I’m here. And I remember your name. Yes. No boyfriend, actually.”

“Great! I mean, I’m glad you’re here. Sit down! If you want to.” Josh gestured. “Okay. Good. Do you want a drink?”

“I have one.”

“Okay. Cool!”

“Yup. Cool.”

Harper slid her phone out of her purse and texted Zach. “Want to make a bet? Do you think they hook up tonight or wait until tomorrow?”

Zach checked his text and made a chuckle. The reply pinged. “Who says they wait until tonight? With a meeting that awkward, it’s obvious they’re going at it in the bathroom in about ten minutes.”

“Oh, right. I forgot the whole fuck your way out of an awkward first date thing.”

“Are you two sexting right here in front of us? My eyes!” Talia made a dramatic gesture to shield her face with her arm. “Please. My delicate constitution cannot handle such filth.”

“Oh, really, says the woman who once read a poem that featured the word ‘fuck’ fifty seven times to a full audience at the Woodbine Nursing Home when we were in high school? Please.” Harper gave her friend a fake slap on the arm. “Don’t even.”

“They liked that poem. They’re old, not dead. Not completely lacking in hormones. I once read a study that says there is a lot of sex happening in nursing homes. A lot.” Talia nodded. “And you know what? I say, go for it, old people. You go for it. You go on grabbing at the pleasures of life as long as you can, in between shitty aides and prune surprise and failing joints and memories. Why give up until the last possible minute?”

“I hear you.” Harper nodded. “Really.”

“Josh, what do you think about sex in nursing homes?” Talia asked.

“Uh, I agree with you. Have at it, seniors.” Josh, although possibly surprised at the topic, entered the situation gamely. “Just use a condom and all. The last thing you need at eighty-five is an STD.”

“I wonder if there is a company that makes super-easy-open condoms with large-print instructions for the older hands and eyes?” Talia asked.

“You mean older dicks?” Josh warmed to the topic.

“Yes, but you can’t use it if you can’t open it. Maybe there’s a prominent tear strip and a ‘Rip Here!!!’ logo. A big arrow. They can stock them in all the rooms. If there isn’t such a thing, we should invent it. Want to start a business?” She nudged her shoulder into Josh’s.

“Okay, but first, want to dance?” He gestured at the floor, where a few couples swayed to the music. “Love this song.”

“Sure.” Talia turned pink again. “Harper, watch my purse?”

“Sure.”

As Talia and Josh melted together on the dance floor, chattering rapidly, his hands sure on her back, Harper leaned into Zach and whispered, “I think you might be right about the bathroom situation.”

“Hmm, I knew I was going to win that bet. Of course, as winner, I get to have you be my sex slave all night tonight.”

“I don’t remember agreeing to that!” But when he leaned down and kissed her neck in the spot she loved, and sidled his hand up her thigh, she murmured, “But I might be convinced, if you keep doing that.”

“I’m going to tie you up and tease you,” he promised her. “And make you beg me again. I love it when you beg.”

“I love it when you do the thing I begged for.”

“Let’s leave now.” Zach stood up and took some bills from his wallet, tucked them under a glass. “I don’t care about happy hour. Okay?” When she nodded, he added, “Drop off Talia’s purse on the way, because I’m taking you home to fuck you.”

“I am down with that plan.” Harper hurried up to her friend and slung the purse over her arm. “Special delivery, baby,” she crooned. “Zach and I are taking off. You two have a good evening now.” She smiled.

“Okay. Bye,” Talia said, looking at Harper for the tiniest second before turning her gaze back to Josh.

Zach took her hand on the way to his car. “Did I tell you how sexy you look in that little skirt, and how when I see you wearing it, all I can think about is your ass?”

“You didn’t, but I’m glad you like.”

She wiggled her ass and he grabbed it and growled. “God, you drive me crazy.”

“You, too.” She slapped his ass through his jeans.

He laughed. “Oh, you want to play like that, really? Okay. I can do that for you.” He stopped and grabbed her and smacked her ass.

She squealed. “Zach! People can see.”

“Oh, right. I forgot you’re not into the club scene. I guess we did cover that already. Well, it just means an extra spank for you in private then, for teasing me.”

Her heart flipped. “I hope so.”

He pushed her up against the car, his chest warm and firm, pressing into her breasts. “Harper, I really, really fucking like you.”

She smiled, touched. “I really, really fucking like you, too.”

He touched her cheek, searched her eyes. “Are you… good with this? What we have?”

She nodded. “I am. More than good.”

“And you trust that I’m not going to take off with any random girl I happen to talk to, or flirt with?”

“I do trust that. Although,” she pointed out, “I haven’t seen you flirt with any random girls lately.”

“That’s because you’re the only one I want,” he whispered into the skin of her neck. “The only one I want to touch, Harper.” He ran his hand over her breast. “The only one I want to kiss.” He brushed his lips over hers. “The only one I want to lie in bed and talk to about things like fractals, or llamas, or eye contact. Just you.”

“How did this happen so fast?” she wondered, although she didn’t doubt what they had.

He smiled. “I don’t know. But I’m glad it did.”

“Should we be grateful to the turbulence on that first flight, or the flapless landing?” That was so long ago, a million years ago, the memory already dusty and vintage in her mind. Something from the 1970s, in a museum. But Zach was real, standing in front of her, eyes glittering with passion, full of more lights than the entire room of the Fireflies exhibit.

“I don’t know. How do you know when it started? Maybe we should be grateful I read that study on eye contact, which I only read because one of my, ahem, short-term relationships was a professor in that field and left the journal in the hotel one time.” He laughed.

“Maybe we need to thank my endless need to take photographs, or you would never have gotten frustrated with me and commented on my inability to put down the camera, and we never would have made that bet.”

“I did only make the bet because I wanted to have sex with you.”

“Me, too.”

“Maybe we need to be grateful to Harold the llama.”

“Or the entire country of Japan.”

He cupped her face in one hand. “When I’m with you, I feel like I’m grateful for all of it, you know?”

She nodded. “I do know. Me, too.”

And when he leaned in to kiss her, his mouth full of passion and his eyes full of tenderness, it was clear that although the word love hadn’t been used once, that whatever they had, this thing between them, was powerful enough to last an entire lifetime.

Dear Readers,

Thanks so much for reading my story about Harper and Zach! I hope you enjoyed their conversations and antics together in Phoenix, Arizona. I love writing romance with interesting people who overcome obstacles to find their HEA. I promise you that Harper and Zach will go on to have many more adventures together for the rest of their lives.

I set this book in Phoenix because I live in Arizona, and I wanted to share some of the beauty that I get to enjoy on a regular basis. The plants and creatures who live here are fantastic, and the city is full of culture and art.

Some people have asked me which things mentioned in the book are real places, and which ones are fictional. Sadly, Elle and her llama shop are a complete fiction, as is the Las Posadas Resort and the feed store. The band called Three Ugly Guys is fictional, but you can read all about them in books by my friend, author Kacey Shea. Check out her novel Detour (An Off Track Records Novel) for a sexy, spicy rock band story.

I’ve included information about some of the amazing real places around Phoenix; it’s coming in a few pages. I hope you come visit someday.

In the meantime, if you want more of my books, I write contemporary romance and steamy kink, always featuring a strong heroine who gets her HEA. My most recent novel, A Handful of Fire, is a sexy, poetic novel that has received many five-star reviews. I’d love to share it with you!

Please reach out—I love to hear from readers. I hang out with my two sisters, who are also romance authors, on our Facebook page, and I’m on Facebook a lot. More than I should be, probably… but it’s a great place to find me for some laughs and fun times. I like to joke around with my friends and be silly, and I really enjoy meeting readers and authors and hot cover models.

Thanks again for reading my book!

XOXO, Alexis

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About the Author

Alexis Alvarez is an author, photographer, and digital designer who loves writing steamy romances. Her female heroines are always strong, intelligent women who fall for the sexiest guy around... and get the happy-ever-after ending of their dreams.

Alexis is a wife and mom, a former chemical engineer, a dachshund whisperer—wait, that’s a lie. The dachshund usually does the exact opposite of what he’s told.

Do you like contemporary romance with steam and humor? Darker BDSM/erotica novels with fascinating psychological insights? Alexis has you covered. She writes in both genres.

You can usually find Alexis hanging out with her family or her sisters, who are also romance writers, at their website, Graffiti Fiction. The three of them love to drink wine together and laugh like hyenas while making dirty jokes and really inappropriate comments. Their mom is very proud.

One really cool thing about Alexis is that she’s a friendly author who loves meeting new people on Facebook. Please come on by and say hello. Thanks, and happy reading!

Phoenix Locations & Cool Things

Barrio Café

Barrio Café is real! Chef Silvana Salcido Esparza, who is considered one of the best Mexican chefs in the country, has won multiple awards and was featured on the Food Network. She’s a member of the Arizona Culinary Hall of Fame. The graffiti-style modern art murals outside and around her restaurant are magnificent and are often included on city photography tours. The paella is exquisite, and the rest of the menu is also delicious—everything in her restaurant is fabulous! Chef Silvana is dedicated to her community, and is known not just for her food, but for her fiery passion for civil rights. If you visit Phoenix, this restaurant is a must-visit for sure.

Rustler’s Rooste

Rustler’s Rooste is in Tempe. With a magnificent view of Phoenix, a slide down to the dining room, a bullpen outside, and rattlesnake appetizer, it has all the local charm and ambience a first-time visitor to Phoenix might desire.

Salt River Wild Horses

There are wild horses living in the Arizona wilderness near the Salt River. Many people enjoy watching the horses and have given them names; photographers often take stunning pictures of the herds. The Forest Service planned to round them up for auction in 2015, claiming they were a nuisance to crops and farmers. Although wild horses are protected by federal law from harassment, these particular horses, descended from escaped domestic horses, don’t technically qualify as “wild,” and therefore are not covered by the federal law.

Such a fierce public outcry arose over this roundup that the Forest Service temporarily suspended the plan. In 2016, Governor Doug Ducey signed into effect a local law protecting the horses from public harassment. However, because the horses often roam onto federal land, they will not be protected there by the state law, and their future is still in jeopardy.

Scorpion Lollipops

Scorpion lollipops are a great hit with Arizona tourists. They are 100% edible, and come in various flavors like banana and cherry. They’re manufactured by a company in California called HOTLIX. The secret to making the scorpions safe to eat is baking them, which apparently denatures the poison, but the sharp tip of the tail is removed so it won’t pierce someone’s mouth.

Desert Wildlife

You can go on desert wildlife tours and see scorpions, tarantulas, bats, owls, and other creatures. Other Arizona wildlife that you won’t see quite as often—but you might—include Gila monsters, multiple species of rattlesnake, bobcats, coyotes, and javelinas. The closer you live to foothills, mountains, or desert, the greater chance you have at seeing critters, but even in the heart of the city you’ll often find scorpions.

Exhibits at the Phoenix Art Museum

The Phoenix Art Museum has a gallery dedicated to Philip C. Curtis, an American surrealist. It also has a fantastic installation by Yayoi Kusama called You Who Are Getting Obliterated in the Dancing Swarm of Fireflies (2005). It was inspired by a Japanese fairy tale about a person in a field with ten thousand fireflies. It’s one of the museum’s most popular works.

“Thirty-Six Questions”

The “Thirty-Six Questions” study is real. Published by Arthur Aron et al. in the 1990s, it’s entitled The Experimental Generation of Interpersonal Closeness: A Procedure and Some Preliminary Findings. In this study, they were not seeking to get people to fall in love, but rather, attempting to understand the mechanisms by which closeness is fostered, and whether eye contact and discussion of a set of increasingly personal questions could do so.

Synchronized Heartbeats

Studies about lovers’ hearts beating at the same rate are fascinating. A 2012 study by Jonathan L. Helm, David Sbarra, and Emilio Ferrer called Assessing cross-partner associations in physiological responses via coupled oscillator models is the one mentioned in my novel.

Ballamas

There is a vendor on Etsy who sells cute little pins called ballamas, which are a combination of a llama and a banana, and are absolutely adorable. Search on Etsy for the name InnaboxDesign.

Malcolm Gladwell

Malcolm Gladwell is a journalist, author, and speaker who writes for the New Yorker and has published several bestsellers in nonfiction/psychology. In his book Blink, he discusses the concept of “thin-slicing,” positing that in some cases, quick judgements can be more accurate than those that took much time and research. In cases where thin-slicing is used successfully, a person can get an accurate assessment of a situation or individual from a surprisingly short amount of time spent in examination. It’s not a substitute for logical analysis, nor should it be used for endeavors that require data. However, he explores how a person’s gut reaction, or gut feeling to something, can often be trustworthy and correct; when a person overrides that initial gut feeling with later explanations, it can often mask something that should have been further explored.

One of his most interesting examples involves an extremely famous sculpture that turned out to be a fake. Some people who first viewed it, art historians and experts, said they got a bad or weird feeling, just a fleeting sense, when they first saw it. Later on, they tried to rationalize that feeling and convinced themselves that the thing must be real, because of all the proof. However, if they had trusted that gut instinct and insisted on doing more questioning and testing, they would have realized that their brain was right. Something about that sculpture was “off,” and that first flash of insight, something that came faster than any logical processing, tapped into information in their brain that was not subconsciously evident.

In cases like this, where you automatically make an assessment about the trustworthiness of a person or situation, a flash of gut feeling can often be more useful than is given credit. He doesn’t say that a person should always trust their first instinct, but that you should pay attention to it and investigate if you feel the necessity.

References

Jonathan L. Helm, David Sbarra, Emilio Ferrer. Assessing cross-partner associations in physiological responses via coupled oscillator models. Emotion, 2012.

Emilio Ferrer, Jonathan L. Helm. Dynamical systems modeling of physiological coregulation in dyadic interactions. International Journal of Psychophysiology, 2012.

A Aron, E Melinat, EN Aron, RD Vallone, RJ Bator. The experimental generation of interpersonal closeness: A procedure and some preliminary findings. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin 23 (4), 363-377. 1997.

Chadwick, Whitney, Susan Ehrlich, Harry Rand, David. S. Rubin and Dickran Tashjian. American Dreamer: The Art of Philip C. Curtis. Forward by James K. Ballinger. New York: Hudson Hills Press, in association with the Phoenix Art Museum. 1999.

Cebra, Chris et al. Llama and Alpaca Care—E-book: Medicine, Surgery, Reproduction, Nutrition, and Herd Health. Elsevier Health Sciences. 2014.

Gladwell, Malcolm. Blink: The Power of Thinking without Thinking. New York: Little, Brown and Co., 2005.

Botz-Bornstein, Thorsten. Wabi and Kitsch: Two Japanese Paradigms. Canadian Aesthetics Journal, Volume 15. 2008. From http://www.uqtr.uquebec.ca/AE/Vol_15/Authenticity/Authenticity_Bornstein.htm.

Hiroshi Nittono, Michiko Fukushima, Akihiro Yano, Hiroki Moriya. The Power of Kawaii: Viewing Cute Images Promotes a Careful Behavior and Narrows Attentional Focus. PLOS. September 26, 2012.

Ratner, Paul. Why Do Japanese People Love Cuteness? Learn the Science of “Kawaii.” Big Think. bigthink.com

Fireflies. Phoenix Art Museum. Retrieved 2017. From http://www.phxart.org/fireflies.

Vaughn, Jason. Everything You Wanted To Know About Scorpion Candy. Bon Appetit. November 19, 2014.

Stuart, Elizabeth. Arizona Governor Signs Bill Protecting Salt River Wild Horses. Phoenix New Times. May 12, 2016.

In the News: Harassment of Wild Horses. Salt River Wild Horse Management Group. Retrieved June 2017.

Williams, Florence. Why Are Fractals So Soothing? The Atlantic. www.theatlantic.com. January 26, 2017.

Carroll, Sean B. Whatever Doesn’t Kill Some Animals Can Make Them Deadly. New York Times. Dec 21, 2009. From http://www.nytimes.com/2009/12/22/science/22creature.html

Buerk, Roland. Fugu: The Fish More Poisonous Than Cyanide. BBC News, Tokyo. May 18, 2012. From http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-18065372, retrieved June 2017.

Meyjes, Toby. Plane Plummets 3,000ft In Turbulence So Severe That Toilet Ripped From Wall. August 16, 2016. Metro.co.uk.

How Far Do Planes Fall During Turbulence—And Where In The World Is It Most Common? The Telegraph at www.telegraph.co.uk. Telegraph Travel. http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/travel-truths/turbulence-explained-is-it-dangerous/. Retrieved June 2017.

A Handful of Fire

A taboo relationship... steamy passion... and secrets that can ruin everything.

Single father Gabriel Baystock is rich and powerful, educated and handsome—and helpless when it comes to ensuring his son Michael recovers fully from a childhood cancer. He’ll do anything, even hire award-winning child therapist Shai Bonaventura.

Shai is drawn to brooding, sexy Gabriel, and while she falls in love with the little boy she’s hired to help, she loses her heart to his father. Their powerful chemistry is off the charts hot, and Shai thinks he might be the one to help heal her own demons, even if it means crossing professional boundaries.

But when old secrets from Shai’s past are revealed, it’s not clear if their fragile relationship can survive the harsh reality of the real world… or whether they have the courage to fight for what they really need?

A Handful of Fire is a full-length stand-alone romance (about 80K words) with an HEA. It's a contemporary love story with a high heat level and gorgeous, poetic prose.

Shai

Even from across the room, I can see that his eyes are the color of emeralds glowing in the dark. If I thought his lean body was dangerous, if watching his muscles moving under the expensive suit made me catch my breath, the glimpse of his face only increases my attraction. He’s far more attractive in person than even his best pictures on the internet. I find it hard to believe that this is the father of my newest patient—assuming he hires me, of course; Allison explained how he thinks therapy is usually a “complete waste of time.”

He notices my gaze; a beat goes by, our eyes locked, and then he smiles. Does he know who I am yet? I stand straighter in my heels and fluff my red-brown curls with one hand. I know I look good in my blue sheath dress; I’ve been working out. Still, the people around him are a world apart in terms of elegance.

“Shai?”

I turn to my boss with a smile, tuning down the images. “Allison. This is amazing.” I gesture, the word amazing no match for the elegance of the charity champagne fundraiser our company, Frazier Pharma, has sponsored.

“Our entire team worked hard to make it happen. Thank you for being part of the effort. Having my therapy team manager here is critical for our fund-raising.” Allison Emercy is perfection in a crimson gown and blond up-do, looking younger than her fifty-two years. With her at the helm, our charity auctions bring in an unprecedented amount of money. This time our pharmaceutical company is raising money for childhood cancer research. It makes the company look good, that’s a given, but it’s something we all believe in.

“It means a lot to me.” Instinctively I touch my silver locket. It’s fancy enough that it matches any outfit, even formal wear, not that I’d care. It’s a reminder of Mani, and I’ll never take it off.

I shoot another look over at him, but he’s not looking anymore; he’s busy with a cluster of elegant people, doctors and rich patrons.

Allison looks over, too. “There’s Gabriel. When he’s free I’ll introduce you. You’re ready, yes?” She raises an eyebrow.

For a second I feel like my heart hangs at the top of a roller coaster, ready to head down, then it bangs into action, staccato. “Yes.” But lusting over a patient’s, well, a potential patient’s father, is not professional.

I keep looking. He’s in his early thirties, like I am—but he’s separated from me by a chasm of wealth and privilege. He’s got a sylph on his arm, a few handsome men around him, and several women hover, coming and going like delicate butterflies around a blazing sun.

I know these things from my internet search mixed with information from Allison: He’s a single father, widowed. One of the richest bachelors in Chicago. A difficult ten-year-old son with emotional issues and a genius I.Q. And, although this shouldn’t matter to the job at hand, I can’t help but notice that he’s breathtakingly handsome.

I remember what Allison told me at our last meeting: “Gabriel Baystock could be one of our biggest donors. He already gave to the cancer research fund, but he’s unsure about the therapy program. He doesn’t think therapy works. His son is recovering from pleuropulmonary blastoma that spread—a good prognosis, but the child is having emotional difficulties. Their surgeon recommended therapy, so Gabriel said he’d try our program, and if it helps Michael, he’ll donate to help it expand. He asked for the best child therapist—that’s you.”

When Allison asked if I could work an extra patient into my schedule and still lead the therapy team, I said, “Yes, of course.” Because she wasn’t really asking.

And how could I say no? I love the sparks of challenge and hope that come with each new child. Taking a little person and helping them replace the rotten broken railings on the hanging bridge of their mind, allowing them to cross from anger and pain to a happier place—that fulfills me.

Beneath the pride and excitement, though, came that additional feeling that I get more often these days, the ever-increasing tone of unease. I pour everything I have into this job. But my batteries are wearing out and I don’t know where to recharge them.

I remember how much it meant to me when I had a therapist help me after the incident, all those years ago, and how I promised myself that I’d devote my life to helping other kids out of their own personal hell. So if I’m running on fumes some days, I just have to figure out how to keep going. I brush my index finger down the thin scar on the side of my face, which is usually hidden by my curls, and bite my lip, trying to push back memories. This isn’t the time, or the place. I need to focus.

A passing couple in their sixties stops to greet Allison. He’s tall and lean; so is she; they both walk with the confidence you see, always, in the best surgeons. The man takes her hands and kisses both cheeks. “Dr. Emercy. It is so good to see you.” He’s got a lovely French accent.

Allison steers me forward with one hand on my shoulder. “This is Shai Bonaventura, my Therapy Outreach manager. We started a new initiative at Frazier, a way to connect with the children in our community who need help beyond the lifesaving medicines we work so hard to provide. Shai has received the Chicago’s Best Therapist Award three years in a row now. It’s a peer-driven award and a high honor.”

I smile and shake hands.

Allison adds, “There are many children who can benefit from behavioral therapy while they undergo treatment and recovery for childhood cancer and other illnesses. Shai heads our new department of therapists. For qualifying families, we will provide free therapy sessions for up to a year. Right now it’s a beta program, and after we prove our success in a limited market, we’re going to expand.” She smiles and the couple smiles back. “Shai, can I leave you with Dr. and Dr. Pelletier, Lucas and Lena, to explain more about our program?”

I take the verbal baton. “Of course.”

After I finish selling our project to the doctors, who promise to donate a sum of money that is double my annual salary, I need a moment alone to recoup. I duck out into the hallway.

There’s art on the walls—I recognize the small rapid brushstrokes of Monet; the bolder, rougher ones of Cezanne. These are originals; I’m sure of it. I regard another picture, one by an artist I don’t recognize. It’s like a photograph, but it’s painted. It’s bleak and beautiful and it tears into me immediately, fierce and sad. It’s raindrops on a window, and a shattered alley outside, the only beauty from the smeared wet colors and the perfect desolation, from the way the water distorts the reality into art.

The one next to it is diametrically opposite in tone. It’s sunlight streaming in beams across a field, waving flowers, and so much space captured in so little space that it’s a miracle. Inside bigger than the outside. A trick of a master. It’s a magic wardrobe, a sidewalk chalk painting you can jump into, a book you want to read forever. I can tell it’s by the same artist because—well, I don’t know the artistic words. But I know it in the way I can tell music by Mozart just by hearing a few bars. Songs by Madonna. A painting by Van Gogh. Prose by Hemingway. Some things are so essentially themselves that you always know them, even if you don’t have the language to explain why.

Nor do I know why someone put these two pictures here, side by side, unless they want to showcase the opposite ends of human emotion. My eye darts from one to the other, unable to choose which one is more powerful. They’re both fascinating; I can’t pick which one I like better. It’s almost like both are necessary; they work together to highlight the beauty of the other.

Allison comes up behind me, touches my shoulder. “Gabriel’s ready to meet you now, Shai. He has some time before the next speech.”

Before I can answer, he enters the hallway and comes right up to us, and my heart jumps to my throat as he reaches out his hand. “Shai? I’m Gabriel Baystock.”

I put out my hand, and when he takes it, an unmistakable spark travels down my fingertips and dissolves into my bloodstream. When it pulses to my heart, I catch my breath. “Hello.” I smile, feel my face flush, and don’t care. “It’s nice to meet you.”

His eyes are mesmerizing, deeper than both of those pictures on the wall, and more beautiful. Also, sadder, I think; he’s guarded. This man is sexy and muscular and he seems completely unrelaxed, even though he’s confident. I wonder why.

“I understand you’re Frazier’s top therapist.” His voice sends reverberations into my skin. He’s still holding my hand, and I’m reluctant to take it back when he releases it. His eyes move up and down my body, and it’s like I can feel his fingers doing it. I suck in a breath. I’ve never been so attracted to someone so fast, felt a gaze so intense. But he’s probably just examining me. I don’t want to imagine desire in his eyes, when it’s merely the want reflecting from my own. Besides, I have to stay professional.

“Our entire team is top-rated,” I say; it’s important to highlight the fact that I’m the tip of a huge iceberg of care, although the praise makes my cheeks tingle.

“Allison and Dr. Chandler said they feel you specifically, of the entire team, have the interpersonal skills to be a match for my son. He’s had a difficult time.” His face tightens. “We’ve tried other therapists after his treatment, and they just never work out.”

“Helping children on the journey to wellness is my top priority,” I say. Then, because this sounds clinically sterile, and because his eyes narrow, I add, “I genuinely like all of my patients. I bond with them, root for them, and do my best to help them regain self-confidence and joy. I’ve never met a child yet that I haven’t been able to help.” As I speak, I can feel my own confidence behind my words. Fumes or no fumes, this is what I do, and I’m good at it. Damn good.

His eyes drill into mine, and I sense a challenge. “‘Well, we’ll see.” His voice is noncommittal but a little arrogant. “Why don’t you meet my son first, before you start making promises.” He walks down the hallway with a “follow me” gesture.

I shoot Allison a look, tilting my head and raising my eyebrows. He may be rich and powerful, but I’m the expert here, and I know I’m good at my job.

Allison gives me a one-shoulder shrug and a small smile. “Follow up with me later, okay? I’m going to head back to catch up with more donors.” She walks the opposite way, back to the crowd.

I nod and follow Gabriel up a flight of stairs, where we reach a woman standing in the open doorway of a large playroom. She has one hand on the walkie at her waist and stands firm, like a guard. “Gabe! Here to check on Michael and the gang?”

This doesn’t make sense, but when I step closer and peer past her to see about a dozen children, I understand: These must be kids of the guests. Babysitting on the spot. It only makes sense to keep them safe. Of course if I had a child I’d do the exact same thi—I touch my scar.

“Lindsay.” Gabriel nods, his voice short. “I’m going to introduce Michael to the therapist. Shai.” He gestures at me and I smile. But Gabriel’s standing back in the hallway so he can’t be seen by anyone inside the room. He doesn’t seem like he wants to do any introducing.

“Okay, um, but…” Lindsay wrinkles her nose. She adds, “Shai, it’s so nice to meet you! But maybe now isn’t...?” Then she gestures across the room, and I see the child who needs someone. Who needs me.

Shai

The other children are busy together; there’s a PlayStation VR connected to a large-screen TV, and an intricate train set. This kid is alone, sitting with his back to the room, looking out the window. I can only see his profile. His face is puffy, his head bald. I fight the urge to run up and enfold him in my arms. I want to tell him he’s special, miraculous. I want to fix him. But now isn’t the time.

The child looks over. His eyes are green, like Gabriel’s. I see tears in his eyes before he turns back to the window, his arms crossed over his chest.

Lindsay steps out of the doorway and lowers her voice. “I hate to throw a wrench into things, but? He’s just sitting there all sad, and when the other kids come up to him, he snaps at them or ignores them, and now they’re starting to whisper? It’s killing me. I’m worried that if you guys go in there right now and start doing a therapy thing? They might make fun of him? What if you did it after ice cream?”

Gabriel sighs. “Lindsay. I don’t plan to embarrass him in front of the other kids. Why don’t you have Clare take them to the kitchen, and we’ll talk privately to Michael. He can’t have ice cream right now anyway. It’s not on his diet.”

Another helper moves into action, and soon the kids stream past, giggling, running, dawdling, poking, a ragged line of healthy childhood. I can tell that they’ve forgotten Michael as they move on to the next adventure.

When they’re gone, the silence in the room is noticeable. Gabriel crosses his arms. “Lindsay. Would you please go introduce Shai?” He nods his head.

It’s a little weird, but I’m not about to say so. Lindsay walks over and touches his shoulder. “Michael.”

He stiffens and shrugs off her hand, and makes a growly noise without looking at her.

“Michael? I’d like to introduce you to someone.” Her voice is gentle, hesitant. “This is Shai, the therapist. She’s here to meet you and just say hi like we talked about with your dad before, okay?”

Michael looks at my hazy reflection in the black window, and our eyes meet, sort of, as ghosts. “I’m not interested in therapy at this time,” he tells me. “Therapy is for people who can’t handle life on their own.”

I nod. “You’re right. The thing is, though, none of us can handle life on our own. It’s okay to get help when we need it.” I shift my purse on my arm.

He notices my move and tilts his chin. “Let me guess. You probably have a cheap, infantile stuffed animal made for a three-year-old in your purse, right? And you’ll give it to me because it will make you feel so good about yourself, and you’ll never stop to think that it’s just a piece of crap that I’ll add to the ever-growing pile of stuffed animals that people give me that I just want to throw away. I get enough of those from the women who throw themselves at my dad and pretend to be nice to me.”

Behind his back, Lindsay winces and shoots me a pleading look. I wonder if Gabriel is hearing this. He must be. He’s right behind us, in the doorway. For a second I feel stress, then it all goes away when I look back at Michael’s eyes and see the hurt there, the longing.

I crouch down to speak, and he says, “I see what you’re doing. It’s called getting on my level. Now you’re going to talk in a soft voice, like you’re trying to entice a baby deer, and tell me that you want to be my friend. You can just go away.” He crosses his arms and scowls, but I see a challenge in his face. He hasn’t tilted his body away, and he’s looking up at me, almost eager.

I think about this and say, “What was the ugliest one?” I have to win him over. I think I need to match him wit for wit, like in a game of chess. Clearly he wants to be respected, not condescended to.

This seems to surprise him. “What?”

I make my play. “The stuffed animals. I’m imagining a fake Tigger from one of those claw-machines that make me depressed every time I see them in a dirty restaurant lobby. Something so awful that you just know it cost about two cents to create, and it was made by sad overworked kids in some kind of Chinese labor camp, something that nobody in their right mind would buy. And maybe it had a stupid label on its neck with your name written in frilly, fancy purple pen, but maybe your name is even spelled wrong?”

He stares, I stare. I hold my breath. This is the moment of truth—will he accept me or not?

Time goes on and on, and he’s silent. Finally he grins. “The ugliest one,” he tells me, “was a pink plastic kitten with rainbow splotches all over it, with the name Princess Lorelei on a bow around its neck and eyes as big as, like, the bottom of a Coke can. And I think it had been pre-owned, because it was a little dirty. I wanted to roast it like a marshmallow in the courtyard BBQ, but you just know it’s probably made with lots of lead paints.” He gives me a challenging look. “Did you know that the symbol for lead is Pb? Its atomic number is 82. The word comes from Latin.”

I nod, letting out a mental sigh of relief and gratitude. “I do know that the symbol is Pb, but I admit I would have had no idea of the atomic number. But if you decide to see me, we can start by burning all of the toddler toys in a huge bonfire. I’ll bring gas masks so we don’t choke on the toxic fumes.” I grin and add, “I might not know the elemental properties of lead, but I can help protect you from brain damage.”

This makes him smile bigger, and I think he might want to laugh. But he doesn’t. “That’s funny,” he says, and his face looks happy. He waves his hands a few times, small gestures, like little butterflies.

He leans in closer and lowers his voice conspiratorially. “I can tell you’re not in this just to get to my dad,” he says. “We’ve had quite a few women say they wanted to help me out, but they were only trying to get closer to Gabriel. You don’t talk like them.” He narrows his eyes. “Or look like them.”

I’m pretty sure he means it as a compliment, even though it maybe didn’t come out quite that way. “Well, I’m just unique that way,” I say. “It’s kind of my calling card. The hey, I’m not here to snag Michael’s dad look. Very popular these days, you know, in certain circles. I might even start a trend.” Then I add, “Also? I’m an actual certified therapist, I love working with kids, and I’m good at my job.” I smile.

“Because they’re usually models and stuff.” His face is blank. “That’s the kind of women who gravitate to him. His girlfriend, Arielle? She’s a model.” He bites his lip, and the look he gives me now is almost pleading.

I nod. “Got it. My orbital pull is not going to be sufficient to attract your progenitor.” I feel my face get hot. I know Gabriel and Lindsay can hear this.

He laughs now. “You’re smart.” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yeah. So are you.” Understatement of the year. “I just might be able to keep up with you if I brush off my calculus book,” I joke.

Michael stops laughing and gives me a shy smile, and I think he’s starting to like me. “If you really need help, I’m on partial differential equations. They’re easy. I think solving them is kind of like cracking a spy code.” Then he turns pink and looks down quickly before meeting my eyes again.

He touches his bald head along a hair-thin scar line and I see him looking at my cheek, at my own scar, which shows now that I’ve leaned forward to talk. I think he wants to ask, but he doesn’t. “Okay,” he announces. “You’re hired.”

I feel a presence behind me as a masculine voice rings out, a displeased voice, “That’s my decision to make, Michael.”

My eyes widen and I feel my cheeks flushing as I leap to my feet. Supermodels. I suck in my stomach and stand tall in my heels and fluff my curls. Maybe I’m no runway model, but I’m damn pretty, and I have nice curves. I have nothing to be ashamed of. Then I’m mad at myself for caring.

Michael rolls his eyes. “Calm down, Gabriel. She’s not murdering me. She didn’t even give me a Beanie Boo.” His voice is sarcastic. “And for that, I am sincerely grateful. I mean, since you parked me here with the Kindergarten Craptastics, I’ve been bored out of my skull. Oh. Too bad the cancer won’t leave my skull along with my sanity, right?”

“Michael.” Gabriel’s voice is tight. “That kind of language is inappropriate. We’ve talked about this—”

Michael turns his back. Gabriel doesn’t say anything, but I can feel the tension coming off him. He runs a hand through his dark hair and curses under his breath. “Fuck.” His green eyes are dark, and the frown makes me forget, for a second, about how handsome he is. When he folds his arms over his chest, I can see his muscles through the dress shirt, though, and I try not to gawk.

“May I talk to you out in the hallway?” I nod my head to the doorway and he scowls, follows me.

“Gabriel. Thank you for letting me meet Michael. I can tell he’s brilliant and creative and mature for his age.” I touch his arm and feel that spark again, and for a split second I think that there’s something in his eyes beyond frustration and irritation, something feral and dark, something just for me.

I pull back. “It seems that he’s feeling a lot of anger and confusion right now, and that it’s getting directed toward you and himself. I can help him. I’d love to work with him.” I feel the absolute need to work with Michael, more than any other child I’ve met.

Michael’s voice pipes up as he steps out to join us. “I like her, Dad.” He tilts his head and smirks. “If you hire her, I bet she could help me figure out how to stop cursing. And how to stop putting beetles in Arielle’s purse. Well, it was just the one time, but it was so rewarding that you just know I’m tempted to step up my game and order some Madagascar hissing cockroaches online. They’re relatively inexpensive, you know. And how to stop—”

Gabriel interrupts. “Michael. This doesn’t concern you. Go back with Lindsay. And why don’t you work on that essay, already, while the other kids are busy. Lindsay can help. It’s the perfect chance right now. Your tutor said this weekend is the last chance to rewrite it before you get a zero.”

Michael’s mouth drops open and so does mine and I speak without thinking. “This entirely concerns him. It couldn’t be more about him if it—if it were a T-rex come alive to eat all of North Carolina.”

Michael laughs. “I love Parasaurolophuses better than T-rexes. Actually, it couldn’t be more about me if it were an airplane full of pretty pink Barbies with glitter glue and,” he hesitates, shooting a sidelong glance at Gabriel, and continues, speeding up his words, “fucking ballet tutus on them that crashes into a pet food factory.”

“That’s enough.” Gabriel’s voice is steel. He points. “I don’t need your cursing or your backtalk.”

“Whatever.” Michael crosses his arms tight across his chest, but there’s something in the gesture that’s sad instead of mad, and tears sparkle in his eyes.

I want to help, but it’s clear that if I argue further with Gabriel, I will make things worse. I shouldn’t even have contradicted him! That’s absolutely forbidden in therapy 101. Never directly contradict the parents like that, so bluntly, even if they’re wrong. You need to have a professional approach at all times. Honest, but gentle. Never lie, but don’t be an asshole. Feelings are delicate.

I look Michael in the eye and say, “I hope we meet again.” I mean it, and I hope he can tell. I add, “You’re a cool boy.”

“I am?” The words come out of him with a force that surprises me. It’s like they’re pulled from him, an animal ripping another one apart. His face teeters on the edge of disaster.

“You’re more than cool. You’re smart and funny and brave. I like you.” I might never see this kid again, and if my words can help him climb one centimeter out of his own personal hell, then I’m going to pour them like water onto a blaze.

“Brave and smart because I fight cancer like a little champ?” His voice is sarcastic but I hear hope, too, a tiny reedy thread of it.

“Brave because you say what you’re thinking, and you’re honest enough to put your feelings out there. And clever because you mentally crashed a plane of Barbies into kibble. If I were a modern artist? I’d paint that and sell it and be the next Andy Warhol. Now that’s good thinking.”

Michael’s face is transformed as he laughs. He makes an airplane noise, then flattens his hand and zooms it down like it’s crashing. He laughs harder than my joke is funny, and I think maybe he’s laughing with relief and joy that someone gets him. And when he laughs, I see his father in his face. Something about Michael’s cheeks and eyes is handsome despite the swelling, and I see the man he’ll be. If he lives to get there.

That thought chills me and I feel like vomiting. It’s the part of my job that freezes off little bits of my soul, turning them black and gangrenous so I have to excise them. I just hope that I can help enough kids before my heart is shaved down to nothing.

“Maybe you can paint it yourself,” I offer. “Or work it into that school essay. Sometimes I think it’s fun to throw people off by doing exactly what they need, but adding in my own little twist. It’s like putting my own needle in the haystack and watching to see who finds it. So what’s your essay supposed to be about?” I look at Gabriel to see if he wants to stop this line of conversation, but he shrugs, gives me a “go ahead” gesture, so I look back at Michael, raise an eyebrow.

Michael stops laughing. “I’m supposed to write a story about what I’ll be doing in ten years. The teacher told me to redo it because my first try I drew a picture of a graveyard and my name on the stone.” He blinks. “It was just a joke! But she said it was morbid and that my sense of humor is inappropriate. Also, Lindsay is not, shall I say, gifted in the way of expository excellence. Just saying.” He crosses his arms.

I nod. “Okay. What if you wrote about, say, ten possibilities? Make a bunch of them funny ones. Like, you’re a famous artist who draws pictures of planes full of Barbie dolls. Maybe you’re a scientist who brings dinosaurs back to life. But include a few that you’d actually do if you could. If you put them both in, that could be fun. And you could totally sneak your humor in there without getting in trouble.”

“I love that idea. I’m going to do it. I’ll get started right now. This is going to be the best essay ever.” He smirks at Gabriel, trots back into the room and starts rummaging in a Transformers backpack. I sense real excitement in his tone, even though I assume that the predominant part of his exuberance is geared toward accepting any ideas that aren’t his father’s.

I shoot a look at Gabriel, and his expression is unreadable, but his hands—they’re clenched into fists, and the knuckles are white. He looks away and speaks. “You’re hired. On a temporary basis. When we meet next week, it will be to discuss time frame and details. Call me tomorrow morning, please?”

I nod, and he adds, “I have an information dossier prepared with Michael’s medical history and all the pertinent information, as well as a list of expectations I have from… therapy.” His voice is just the slightest bit contemptuous, but I think I hear hope as well.

“Okay. That sounds great.” I give him a genuine smile, and my heart leaps with joy that I get to keep working with Michael. I can’t say why, but this kid is already wound into my heart, melted into me in a way that feels good. And the thought of meeting with Gabriel somehow makes a different kind of spark in my body, one that is more of a lazy warmth and a tingling spatter of excitement.

The echo of heels has me glancing back down the hallway. A statuesque woman walks toward us with intent, her movements sinuous and loose, on a runway. She’s the sylph from earlier, the one decorating his arm like a Tiffany masterpiece dripping with diamonds. Her arms have that lanky length, and shoulders and elbows, and her hips pop and sway with each step. Her dress is poured onto her, silver honey, a wrapper that begs to be undone, because it hits at the sweet spot of thigh and pulls your eye up and along her curves. Her hair is long and flowing, a golden brown mane, and her face is pure Botticelli.

She goes right up to Gabriel and folds into his arms. Her kiss is personal, and I step back, an interloper. “Gabe, they’re about to do the Community Donors presentation in ten minutes and I really want you to be there to hear me accept my award.” She smiles into his face.

He touches her bare arm. “Of course. I just need to finish up a few things here.” His voice goes from warm to business, and I’m irritated on Michael’s behalf that his father uses such a cool tone to discuss him and his issues.

She looks at me but doesn’t ask for an introduction; instead, she stands next to Gabriel and entwines their fingers. “I booked our usual resort for next weekend,” she murmurs into his ear, and only then does she put her glance on me. “I’m Arielle,” she announces, extending her hand like a favor. Her smile is warm, but I’m not 100% sure that it goes all the way to her eyes. It sort of looks like it does. Maybe it does?

Nope. It does not. She just gave me a tiny smirk as she looked me up and down, and that’s all I need to know about her. “I’m Shai.” I don’t bother with “nice to meet you,” because—honestly—it isn’t.

“Shai is going to work with Michael on a temporary basis,” Gabriel says. “She’s a therapist with Frazier.” He gives me a smile. Arielle’s eyes follow, and her hand tightens on his forearm. Her nails are perfect.

“Oh! How wonderful!” Her voice sounds so genuine. “You’re such a thoughtful father, always getting him the things he needs. Like this massive playdate opportunity, with kids of the donors. I admire that about you.” She smiles up at him and touches his cheek. “I’m so glad we’ll get the chance to have a private getaway. You definitely need to relax after all the hard work you put in at home. Recharge.”

He doesn’t respond to that, but checks his watch. “Lindsay, can you please take Shai to get the info packet? Arielle, let’s head back now. I need to catch Masterson before your award.” He turns to me. “Thank you, Shai. I appreciate your willingness to work with my son.”

He takes my hand again and nods, and even though Arielle is draped along him, a Prada anaconda, my heart hammers a tune out in my chest, a few sudden notes of surprise and desire, at the touch. I keep my expression even as I smile and walk away.

At the top of the staircase I look back at him, and flush—he’s watching me. I duck my head, then straighten up. I give him a small wave with the fingers of my right hand, and smile. Then I do the airplane crashing motion that Michael did.

Arielle is talking into his ear, but he’s still looking at me. Before I turn, I see him tilt his head toward me and give me a quick one-wave motion with his hand. And I think I see the briefest hint of a smile.

Shai

The sun is bright and cheerful, making everything look warmer than the fifteen degrees that’s trickled into town overnight, extending thin needy fingers into the cracks and crevices of the streets, wrapping me in a barbed wire embrace between the buttons of my jacket and sending wasabi-sharp gusts up my nose when I breathe in.

I get into my car and shiver while I pump the gas a few times and turn the key. My old Nissan Sentra, Marissa, is an ancient sage of a Grandma, but she’s still safe and reliable, and as she shudders awake, I see the gusts of exhaust sweeping away, feathers vanishing. Then the wind changes and acrid exhaust comes back in my direction, so I ease the foot off the pedal and allow the car to idle down the battered side street.

Chicago is fierce in the winters, and she’s just getting started. Piles of dead brown leaves cling heavy and sodden to the curbs, random arrangements that formed from winds and neighbors and then drowned in cold rain. I imagine how the street will look once the snowdrifts come. My neighbor Bryce will put out that candy-cane striped red and white wooden chair to reserve the spot he shovels out with care, and then crotchety Mrs. Moel will move it so her husband can park there himself.

The drive back to Gabriel’s house takes forty minutes and it’s a different world. His home, an entire renovated brownstone, is located in Lincoln Park, an exclusive neighborhood not far from Lake Michigan. During my short research on Gabriel, I saw that a house on the next street sold for over six million dollars. Street parking is tight, though, and that makes me smile. People can afford the most luxurious places in the city, but they’re still bound by the same urban limitations as everyone.

I ring the bell and my heart speeds. Is Gabriel going to answer? I steel myself for his face, his attitude. And those sexy eyes.

Instead, a woman in her sixties greets me; she’s plump and her eyes are sharp, appraising. “Shai,” she says, before I get a chance. “I’m Natalie, the Baystocks’ housekeeper. I do a lot of things with Michael.” Her smile is warm, if a bit reserved. “Gabriel is waiting for you in his office. I’ll take you.”

I follow her quick pace over the tiled entryway. Instead of going to that large front room that was filled with donors last time, or down the hallway with the art pieces, she leads me the other way.

We go over a carpet that’s thick and soft and makes me terrified that dirt lingered on my shoes, and I catch glimpses of art lit by soft wall lights, glass cases with exquisite shapes and colors inside. Then we’re in a hallway, warm soft wood that makes me want to bend down and stroke it, and now we’re inside his office. I see pictures, a large window, and a shelf full of books—business and poetry.

He’s behind a desk piled with papers and for some reason my eye is caught by a beautiful hourglass full of blue sand so fine that it looks like water. It’s all run out.

“Shai,” he says, standing, and gives me his hand. “Thank you for coming.”

Natalie nods her head. “Call if you need anything,” she murmurs, and closes the door behind her. As I glance around, getting my bearings, I realize I recognize his music.

Tramuta in lazzi lo spasmo ed il pianto in una smorfia il singhiozzo e ‘l dolor, Ah!

“You like Pagliacci?” I ask before I know the words are coming, surprised that someone else loves my favorite song.

He raises his eyebrows. “You do?”

“I love opera. This is a dark song, though. Pavarotti really hits it. I usually only listen to this when I want to embrace some kind of immense sadness.” As the voice rolls over us, somehow turning into something three-dimensional and alive in the room, vibrating our bodies with reverberations of loss and beauty, I feel like it’s something nearly too intimate to share.

“What do you know about immense sadness?” His voice is taut.

I shrug. “Everyone has bad days. Sometimes you have to let it grow and swell to its maximum to let it burst and disappear. The music can help.” A memory starts to swell in my mind with the music and I hastily push it back and blank it out. My eye twitches and I finger my scar.

“Some sadnesses are too big for music to touch.” His voice is sharp, his eyes following my finger, and I put my hand back down. He touches a button on the sleek stereo system and silence pours out, just before the resolution, and I wince at the unfulfilled notes lingering in the air.

I nod. “Yeah.” And what I don’t tell him, but what I know for myself, is this: Some sadnesses are so powerful that you simply can’t release them; you have to push them down hard, lock them away, and never let them out. Radioactive poison in drums buried deep in your mind, and if you build the barrels right, they don’t leak. This is against everything you learn and teach in therapy, but it’s how I survive. I don’t tell people I’m a hypocrite; it doesn’t matter, in the end, as long as I help them get better.

I take a breath to refocus. “I’m excited to work with Michael. You said a temporary hire. Let’s talk about what that means. I brought a printout of my email, and you can recommend changes.”

“Sit down.” He nods at a chair opposite his desk. “Please,” he adds, when I hesitate, and puts his hands up. “Let’s review your proposal.”

I take out a neatly stapled packet and a folder. “I’ve included my resume and letters of recommendation from previous clients and from Allison.” He makes a noise of impatience and I continue, “Just so you have them, for your records.”

He cuts in. “I already have those and I reviewed them last week before we spoke. I would never have offered you anything if I didn’t check your credentials. I admire Allison. She and Michael’s surgeon recommended you specifically. Dr. Avery Chandler.”

“She’s the best.” I hear the admiration in my voice. “Dr. Chandler is one of Chicago’s best peds cancer specialists. I’ve worked with several of her patients.” Of course Gabriel has the best doctor for his son. Clearly, with his wealth and influence—although Dr. Chandler only takes specific cases, and she never bases it on anything financial. If she took Michael on as a patient, then it means she believed she could help him.

“I’m only hiring you because I’m at the end of my options.” His voice is bitter. “I don’t think therapy works—how could it? I mean, it’s like blowing on a broken arm. Here, feel better.”

“Then, why?” I’m so curious. I lean in, wanting to understand more, to unlock the hurt in his eyes and find out how to make it better.

“My son is struggling, he doesn’t want to even talk to me these days. He’s the smartest person I’ve ever met, but he’s squandering that gift. So—I don’t even know where to start.”

I keep my voice low and melodious. “Tell me a little about his history. I read the documents, but just to clarify—he’s in remission, yes?”

“Yes.” This makes Gabriel relax, at least a little; some of the tension drains from his shoulders and his smile is genuine. “Yes. The first surgery removed the tumor from his lungs, and he was cancer-free for three years. His last surgery was a rough one. He had a distant recurrence; another tumor grew in his brain. They got it all, but he had some doses of chemo afterwards. He’s still on several medications, but he’s weaning off steroids right now.”

“And do they think, do they know how long his current remission will last?” It’s a scary question, but I need to know.

“You never really know, of course. But at this point she doesn’t think it will recur. Dr. Chandler has him come in for regular scans and tests, but he’s completely cancer-free right now. NED—that’s No Evidence of Disease.”

“I’m so glad.” It makes me happy, ecstatic, to hear that Michael’s recovery is going so well. “He’s having trouble right now, emotionally?”

Gabriel sighs. “He’s morbid and inappropriate, and he offends everyone. He refuses to return to school. He never wants to leave the house. And he is chronically rude to my—to Arielle. He can’t handle the fact that I’m with someone other than his mother. Obviously I want him to be… happy again. And to be able to fit back into life, you know? I never thought therapy was much use, but it’s worth a try.” He gives a small chuckle. “We got family counseling many times over the past few years and he hated it, even though I tried so many experts. But…”

“But?” I raise my eyebrows.

He smiles. “I’m willing to try again. With you. At least you can help him get his homework done. You seemed to have some kind of magic touch the other night. I can’t even seem to manage that.”

He looks me in the eyes, and I feel the force of his personality, and his sexuality as well. This man is literally one of the most handsome people I’ve ever come across, and it’s not just his physique and his chiseled cheeks, his lashes, his lips—it’s his confidence. His intellect. It shows in his gaze, in the way he narrows his eyes. It sounds out in his words. It comes through his skin, I think, and wafts to me on the invisible currents in the room.

There’s a divot in his chin and I want to put my finger there. His lips are expressive and I want to touch them, too. His shirt is just tight enough, just loose enough to show muscles under the crisp white starch, and I want to run my palms over his biceps, squeeze, lean in.

As we look at each other, I see the expression in his face turn from professional to calculating, and a gleam appears in his eye. He’s suddenly a predator, and when his eyes peruse me, moving over my curves, I feel hot, weak, silly. I’m letting my imagination get overactive because I have a crush on him—well, not him; I don’t know him. But I have a crush on what I think he might be; a crush on how he looks and acts; a crush on the person I want as my secret lover in my mind, the lover who looks just. Like. This.

I blink and focus. “Magic touch?” I try not to think about his touch, how that would feel on my skin. Stop. I’m not here for that, and neither is he. Focus.

He nods. “When you talked to him about the essay. He actually wrote it that night, and do you know, it was one of the most fantastic things—” He breaks off, and I watch, mesmerized, as he swallows, my eyes tracking the movements of his tendons.

I look back at his eyes. “I’m glad I was able to help. I think he’s got a lot of anger built up, and I can help him find the right ways to express that as we work it off.”

“Anger. Yes, I suppose he does.” Gabriel sighs, then looks down, flips a pen in his fingers. It’s expensive looking, silver. I wonder if it’s a Mont Blanc. I read a book once where the rich main character used Mont Blanc pens, and ever since then—even though I have no idea what a real Mont Blanc pen looks like—rich-looking pens summon that word, along with images of Swiss mountains and chalets and sexy Bond men in suits. “He is angry, Shai. At me, at the universe. It started when his mother died, and got worse since...”

I pull my mind back. “How long has it been since…”

“Michael’s mother died three years ago. It was a car accident, a drunk driver.” He shuffles my papers, waits a second before looking back up at me. “He’s almost ten now. He’s forgotten so much about her. I think that makes him… scared.” His lips are tight, and I imagine how that must feel, that the woman he loved—the mother of his child—is nothing but a pale shadow in his son’s mind.

I keep my voice soft. “That’s something I can work on with him. But Gabriel, for this to be successful, I’ll need to work with you, too. Usually? When a child feels this much fear, anger and resentment, the behavior of the parent is just as critical. There may be signals that you put out inadvertently that cue Michael into this behavior. It’s hard for any child to accept a parent dating, and if he’s recovering from illness and struggling to remember his mom, that makes it harder. You may need some different techniques and tactics to talk to him about this and help him understand that you’re not disrespecting his mother, you’re not asking him to become something he’s not, and you’re not telling him he’s not enough for you. I can provide advice on how to recognize his triggers so you can adjust your own behavior.”

“This is not about me.” He stands up and his face twists. “It’s about my son. My behavior is not in question here. You will not be psychoanalyzing me, Shai. You will not be giving me any well-intentioned instructions on how to connect or reach out or adapt. You’re working with him and him alone. You try your best to help him be happy again. I just want him to be happy.”

“I understand.” I stop and force myself to count to three. Lots of parents vacillate between anger and fear themselves, and take it out on the therapist. You can’t take it personally, nor can you allow yourself to react. You’re there to help them as much as the child. “Let me tell you more about my proposal.” He’s silent, so I continue. “I’d like to meet with Michael three times a week for at least twelve weeks as a start.”

“So often?” He wrinkles his brow.

“In our team, we recommend an intensive program to make fast progress. What’s different about our therapy program is that we tailor ourselves to each individual. Since we know Michael prefers to stay in the house, Allison and I propose that I can meet with him here, if you prefer, until we get him past that hurdle.”

“Tailor to us,” he repeats slowly, and nods. “House calls. Not every practice does that.”

I nod. “I know. With your approval, we can even do specific sessions on location. A child who is working through animal fear, for example, may one day wish to try visiting the zoo with the therapist in a safe and controlled fashion.”

“Michael used to love the lakefront park that leads up to the beach.” He walks to the window and gazes out, his eyes far away. “Montrose. We’d spend hours there together. I’d like you to get him there again, if you can.”

“Next time I’ll bring all the appropriate information and release forms to sign.”

He comes back to his desk and sits across from me again. “Send it sooner. I want him better fast.” His voice is even, but his fingers flex on the wooden surface.

“Would you like me to schedule a time for the three of us to visit Montrose Beach Park, maybe after the first two weeks of therapy? I know he’s scared to leave the house, but we can work up to it.”

His eyes darken. “It’s not so much that he’s scared to leave. He just mostly… refuses. Especially if I ask. Sometimes Natalie takes him places, but she’s—she’s a great housekeeper and cook, but it’s not her job and she’s got enough on her plate. We’ve been through ten nannies and as many babysitters. He just doesn’t take to a lot of people, lately. I even asked Lindsay if she could help out more—you met her at the gala and Michael sort of accepts her—but she’s starting college fulltime again and can’t.”

“I see.” I think about this. “So we can wait on Montrose, then?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t want to make him wait any longer. You take him alone, first, if he likes you. I already ran a background check on your driver’s license and I’ll add you on my insurance as an additional driver for my Lexus SUV. You can practice with it before you take him.”

My eyes widen. “You did—okay. You did what, exactly?”

Shai

He shrugs. “Allison gave me your documents and I ran a DMV and criminal check.” He doesn’t even look guilty. “You passed.”

“Of course I did. You know I have the fingerprint card. I’ve been background checked extensively and it’s updated regularly.” It’s hard to keep the irritation from my voice. “There was no need to redo the check.”

“I like to do my own checking.” He meets my eyes, not backing down.

I breathe out. “Gabriel, I appreciate your concern for Michael’s safety, and I assure you that I share the concern as well. However, next time, please let me know before you’d like to request any information like that. Otherwise I won’t be able to work with you and Michael at all. For this to work, we need to develop trust. Okay?” I phrase it as a question, but it’s more of a flat statement.

Googling is one thing. I mean, I googled him, too! Doing your own in-depth checks is another entirely. It’s not the way I like to interact with clients. And something flutters in my chest, a sick dark bat, then relief. Obviously he didn’t do a personal background check in addition to DMV and criminal, or surely he’d at least ask about—I swallow hard and maintain my gaze.

He doesn’t look away, but something in his face shows more respect. “Understood.” His voice is low. “I apologize for overstepping, but he’s everything to me. If someone else, someone new is going to take him places… he won’t go anywhere with me right now.”

And just like that, my irritation turns to compassion and understanding. “It’s all right.” I want to hug him, to tell him everything will be okay. When kids are hurting this badly, the parents are usually also in pain. When a child feels alone, the parent is isolated, too, locked into a sad cavern of depression. And Gabriel doesn’t even have anyone to help him through it. A wife. Arielle flits through my mind and departs just as quickly as she entered. Brilliant and bright, sunny and shiny, she seems like a firework that burns out fast and leaves ash behind. She doesn’t have what it takes to help with a long, painful haul like this one.

We’re silent for a minute, and I look down at my documents. I see that he’s highlighted the place where he commented, “Three months maximum.”

I say, “I have to tell you that children do better with long-term therapy, but even in three months we should start to see some improvements in his mood and behaviors, and you can decide if you want to continue longer term.”

“I probably won’t.” His tone is flat. “I just need someone to help him through this rough patch right now. I don’t want him reliant on shrinks.”

I bite my lip. “I understand the desire to have him be self-sufficient. Believe me, that’s my goal. I just need to let you know that it may take longer than a few months. Sometimes, children who have suffered trauma may need a year to learn how to deal with their feelings. Or longer.”

His gaze is sharp. “I want him ready to re-assimilate into his mainstream classroom by January at the new session. It’s important for him to be back in school with kids his age. He spends way too much time in this house with no playmates, doing nothing but computer… stuff. It’s not normal. It’s not healthy. His surgeon said it’s safe for him to get back out there, but he refuses.” He’s hot and cold; I know it’s normal when a parent is anxious about a child, but I prefer it when we’re on the same side.

I keep my tone even. “Getting back into a classroom is an admirable goal. I agree that’s important. I’m concerned with giving any child an artificial time constraint. Many times, when a child thinks there’s a deadline, he may balk at it and push back.”

“You don’t know my son,” he snaps. “If he puts his mind to it, he can do whatever he wants.”

I let my breath out. I know I’m pressing his buttons—and he won’t see things my way right now—but I’m the expert here. “I have experience with children in the same situation, and in every situation, giving the child an open time frame has worked well. It allows them to feel free to control and direct the pace of their therapy, and they usually put more effort into it once it’s their own choice. When that happens, the child makes progress faster than expected.”

“Well, you’re the one who needs to put in the effort,” he retorts. “It’s your time frame. You can feel the pressure. I expect to see improvements soon. If I don’t, it will be obvious to me that your efforts are useless. And he’s going back to that classroom no matter what.” His voice is a challenge.

I swallow back a snippy reply. If I keep pushing, he might fire me before I even start. “I will do my absolute best with Michael. Monday, Wednesday and Friday at ten a.m.?”

He nods, sits back down. “Work it with Natalie. She knows his tutor and music schedule better than I do right now. She’ll meet you in the kitchen. Ah. Thanks. For… your time.” He opens his laptop and starts typing, then looks up at me with those gorgeous green eyes. “I’m sorry I can’t walk you over. I have a bridge meeting in two minutes. You can find your way?”

He’s stern, but something about him seems lost. I want to put my hands on those chiseled cheekbones, to touch his chest, to tell him it will all be okay. That he will find his way, too.

But he puts on some kind of headset and looks at the door, and I nod. “I can.”

I find it hard to imagine that a father doesn’t know his son’s schedule as well as the housekeeper, especially if his son is everything to him. But I’ve seen this before, too—when someone is so precious, when someone is your world, it’s terrifying. People in pain distance themselves from the ones who mean the most, as if to protect themselves from a future wound that hasn’t happened yet. As if by doing so, they can get ahead of the imminent grief that lurks around each corner, rabid, salivating with death.

I stand at the door, and hesitate, not sure if I should say something else. But he’s already talking—in Chinese!—so I close the door silently behind me.

I wander back to the kitchen. Natalie is there, and to my disappointment, so is Arielle. Natalie is all motion; she’s chopping onions and a pot is heating on the stove.

Arielle taps her phone. “Natalie, excuse me, please? I need to get to the fridge.” She’s hovering right behind Natalie, and I wonder why she can’t just go around the other way.

Natalie reaches and grabs for a fallen onion skin beside her foot. “By all means.” She stands up, grabbing the edge of the table for support. “Be my guest.” She shakes out one foot, and I wonder if she has arthritis.

Arielle’s voice is honey. “Thanks so much. I’m parched.” She takes a green glass bottle from the fridge and twists it open, the carbonation making a sharp hiss, then stands in the spot where Natalie was standing and directs her laser gaze on me. “Is that car out front yours?” Her eyebrows are perfect arches.

I nod. “It is.”

“Hmm.” She tilts her head. “I hear you’re going to be working with Michael.” Natalie moves around her and pulls a clear plastic bag of tomatoes from the fridge.

“Yes.”

“He’s, like, a super little boy.” Arielle’s voice is cool. She takes another sip of Perrier. “I’ve known him for a year now, while I’ve been with Gabriel. A year for all of us. A big year.”

Natalie goes around her again to the other side of the table, retrieves a wooden cutting board and a chef knife.

“Uh huh.” I hear Arielle, loud and clear. She’s a dog pissing on her property. I get it.

“We spend a lot of time together. You’ll see me a lot here. Or, maybe I should say, we’ll see you coming and going.” She laughs.

“Hmmm.” I nod. I do not plan to engage. She can throw as many warnings as she wants, no problem. I can handle myself. I mean, I’m not here for Gabriel. I’m here for Michael. Why does she even care?

“Cute necklace. Did you get that at Claire’s at the mall?” She smiles, and it looks so sweet. “Very teenage retro. Does it open? ” She reaches out.

My hand shoots to my locket and I’m ready to snarl at her; instead, I take a deep breath. “It’s a family treasure. I don’t actually ever open it.”

She shrugs, takes one more sip of water, then caps the bottle and sets it on the counter. “Okay! See you later. I’m going to say goodbye to Gabe and then I’m headed over to meet my agent.” She floats out, leaving only a trail of expensive perfume and silence as I contemplate her presence and how the room changes with her absence. I wonder if Natalie feels the same relief I do.

I turn to Natalie. “Okay. So. Gabriel asked me to discuss the scheduling with you for Michael’s therapy. I’d like to meet at ten a.m. three days a week. Will that work, do you think?”

She cocks her head, looking up from the table. “That’s too early. His private tutor comes in the mornings. But if you can do afternoons, say four to five? That would work.” Her fingers are fast; she’s turning the tomatoes into perfect dice.

I mentally rearrange my schedule. It will take some shuffling. But I need to work with this boy, and I’ll do what it takes. “I can do that. Sure! So I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Four p.m.”

“Great.” Her voice is tight.

“Natalie? What are you making? You have the perfect knife touch. Seriously, you could go on that Iron Chef show with those skills.” I gesture at the table.

She doesn’t smile. “Beef stew with lots of veggies. Michael’s doctor has him on a low-carb, no-sugar, organic protein diet. You’ll need to know that, because there are times you may need to give him a snack if I’m not here and his father is… busy with work.” I’m not sure, but I think I hear disapproval in her voice. Of me? Or of Gabriel’s schedule? I can’t tell, yet.

“That sounds healthy and delicious. I’d like to learn more about his diet. Maybe we can spend some time after my therapy session with him tomorrow to discuss it?”

She shrugs, nods, wipes her hands on her apron. “Sure. That will be fine. I’ll see you out.”

“Oh, no, you don’t need to stop. It’s okay.”

“I don’t mind.” She puts the knife on the edge of the table, then turns back, picks it up and puts it much farther in. Careful. I like that.

She walks me to the door, and as we pass the artwork and glass sculptures, she asks, “So I read about you, online. Sounds like you’ve won some award. I hope you can help Michael.” We stop walking in front of something that looks like a melted sun, all spangles and shiny glass. Her voice is noncommittal but her gaze is piercing.

I nod. “The real reward is seeing kids get better, though. That’s the only thing that matters to me. I love working with children.”

She clears her throat. “Michael said he likes you. He doesn’t say that about anyone, lately.” She tilts her head. “You must have made quite an impression.” She’s still looking at me, as if trying to see inside, what I think.

“I like him, too. He’s the coolest kid I’ve met in a long time. I want to help him.” I think my genuine emotion must show in my voice, because her gaze softens.

“Well, we’re all rooting for him. If there’s anything I can do…” She sighs. “He used to be so happy.”

“He’ll be that way again,” I promise, because life will deliver that, regardless of whether I bring it, or it comes another way. But that’s one thing I do know, which has been true for all of the families I work with: Life goes on, and if you let it, beauty comes back, all by itself.

“I hope so.” Her voice is vehement.

“So I’m curious, I guess, why you seem to know more about Michael’s schedule than Gabriel does.” Although I keep my voice neutral, she frowns and crosses her arms over her plump chest.

“Gabriel is very busy, Shai. His work schedule is… overwhelming. He had to do an emergency trip to Asia last week, and Michael’s tutor needed to switch up his hours right after Gabe left, so naturally I stepped in to help manage it. I stay here and act as a nanny when I need to, but Gabriel is a wonderful father. Normally he’d know the schedule, too.” She narrows her eyes.

“I can see how committed he is to helping Michael,” I say, because, although I don’t know much yet about Gabriel Baystock, that part comes through, along with his pain. “And I’ll do everything I can, I promise.”

Natalie softens back into an almost-smile. “Well, I’m glad he’s getting some help,” she allows.

I turn the knob and the arctic chill cracks my skin. “See you and Michael tomorrow. You guys and… um… Arielle?” I can’t resist. Maybe because I’m already halfway out the door, my mind decided it was okay to pry.

“She’s hardly ever at the house, so I doubt it.” She hesitates, then gives me a look. “For all their big year together, she doesn’t have a key.” Her voice is completely neutral, no emphasis on the word big or anything, but then she smiles, a small sly smile, and I smile back. I don’t know why that made me so suddenly exuberant.

She gives me another smile before I close the door. “See you soon.”

Shai

We’re at the grassy tree-splashed park that extends, long and curved, along Montrose Beach. It’s cold, and the wind tosses icicles into our eyes, sharp end first, but we squint and run. Michael whoops and jumps and his scarf flies madly behind him in the wind, a red whip and blur. He darts in and out of the trees, their arms mostly bare, just a few tenacious brown leaves clinging, forgotten by winter.

“Shai!” he yells, and the word is cut in half by the gust. I wonder where the rest of the sound went, imagine little music notes slamming into the white and blue beach building and shattering into a cloud of vapor.

I catch up and help rearrange his scarf. “This is crazy wind! We can only stay out here for like ten minutes!”

I have to yell, and it makes me exuberant. He runs again, and I follow, looping around a tree and laughing in delight. The air is frigid, but my muscles are warm from running, and I am invigorated, like I’m truly alive. I think Michael feels the same way. It’s our third trip to the beach this month, and every time we go, it seems like liquid joy suffuses his entire body for days after.

“We’re the only ones here!” Michael yells, tossing his arms out and twirling. “It’s like our own world. It’s all ours!” He breaks off as two figures trudge into view from a parked car across the vast expanse of grass, both bundled into jackets that swaddle them and defy any attempts to guess sex or shape, one tall, one short. “Oh. Another kid is coming.” He deflates, the wind dies down abruptly, and his words ring out across the meadow, making the figures look up.

As they approach, I can see that one of them is a girl, a few years younger than Michael, maybe. Her mittened hand is in her mother’s.

Michael’s voice is flat. “I want to go home now. Can we go home?” He tugs my arm.

“Of course.” I’m confused, but it’s cold and we needed to leave soon anyway. We start to walk back to the Lexus, and as we pass them, Michael averts his face. But something about him catches the girl’s eye, and she says, “Michael Melon?”

Michael scuffs his foot into the clumpy frozen grass. “Hurry up, Shai.”

“Wait, though. She’s talking to you. Just say hi, okay?” I get that he’s uncomfortable, but we need to work on manners. He gives me his signature angry look then sighs, a long-suffering sigh.

“Anna Banana,” he says. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“Michael Melon!” She grabs at her mom and jumps up and down. “He’s from group, Mom. Last year. Remember?”

The mom’s gaze, as she looks at her girl, is so full of angst and longing that I know immediately from where they know Michael.

“Of course,” she says, a smile growing. “I remember fruit week. That was fun. Everyone got a fruit and a nickname and there was that scavenger hunt. All the floor nurses got involved. Even Dr. Avery came, remember? The kids loved it. Oh, remember Angelica Apple? And Pauly Persimmon?” She pushes back a strand of auburn hair that’s escaped her cap. She has freckles on her nose.

“Pauly cried when they gave him that one,” reminds her daughter. “So he got to be an apple too, like Angie. And Michael didn’t want to play at all.”

“I was too old for that game.” Michael kicks harder at a lump of dirt, and it skitters away. “It was dumb.”

Anna’s face falls. “I liked it.” She sounds hopeful.

“It was for babies.” Michael’s voice is scornful.

“Michael.” I bend down to whisper. “Remember how we talked about empathy? Other people’s emotions?”

“No.” He sounds angry.

“I think you do. Right now you have a lot of power in your voice. You can make this girl cry, or you can make her smile. Which do you choose?” I look into his eyes. “Think it over.”

He walks away and kicks a nearby tree.

The mother puts her hand on Anna’s arm and gives me the saddest look. “We’re just going to walk to the sand. She wanted to see the waves for a few minutes.”

She’s not even angry. It’s like she knows, she gets how these kids have so much rage and despair that they can’t even control it. So much worrying on behalf of a child, it can make you so fragile that you crack. But right now she’s still strong enough to withstand all of this. It takes a special mother to do it. Not every kid has that.

“I’m so sorry.” I want to convey all of my thoughts and feelings into the words, and I probably don’t.

She smiles anyway. “It’s okay. Look. At least we’re both out here with our kids, right?” She gestures at the vast open expanse of grass, and the lake in front of us, endless gray water. “We’re here, on this amazing day, with our jewels. It’s all good.”

I nod. “It is.” I feel like I should disclose that Michael’s not my kid; it feels dishonest—even to a stranger—to let her think he’s mine. Of course, we’ll never see these people again, so I suppose it doesn’t matter. And the explanation would reveal a lot of personal information about me and Michael both that she has no right to hear. Still, it feels awkward inside, like I’ve swallowed something bitter, or like I’m wearing a sweater that doesn’t fit right.

Anna comes closer to me, intrigued. She’s still young enough to be friendly and open to other parents. “I think the fairies left me something on the beach. I’m sure of it, in fact. I’m going to treasure hunt. I think maybe they left me a treasure, maybe a piece of gold, or maybe a necklace.” She smiles and claps her mittens together, and I smile at how they are too big and sort of flop like paws.

“The fairies are real,” she informs me in a voice that defies argument, but the narrowing of her eyes and the slight stiffness to her shoulders is a silent plea, and I heed it.

“Of course they are,” I say, as if it were common knowledge. “But I think they only make themselves known to girls, and maybe boys, who are special. The kids they can trust.”

She nods. “Yes! My friend Nidhi said they’re not real, but she’s Indian so she doesn’t believe in things like Santa because that’s only for other religions than hers, like mine. So he’s real but he doesn’t come to her house. But it’s okay because she gets presents for other things, like Diwali. So the fairies are like that too for some kids.”

Her mom shoots me a smile and mouths, “Thank you,” and rolls her eyes at Anna, but it’s a sweet gesture, and I can see how much she loves her daughter. The deception makes me smile and feel uneasy at the same time. For a second I think about the devastating feeling that comes when you lose your magic, whether it be Santa or the Easter Bunny—but I suppose we all go through it, and turn out okay. Maybe this is good practice for later, when she needs to make her own magic. And I’m not going to judge any parent for helping her kid survive.

Anna goes up to Michael by the tree. She asks, “Is your cancer gone? Mine went away but I have to get MRIs sometimes to check. My hair is growing in and soon it will be long enough for a barrette. My mom said I can pick out even the most expensive ones at Walgreens, like that green one with the pink watermelon slice. Have you seen that one?”

I hold my breath. Please, please.

Michael shrugs. “No. I don’t like barrettes.” He pauses, meets my eyes, then says carefully, “That sounds nice for you, though.” Anna smiles and does a little hop.

I feel like jumping myself with pride and triumph. Yes!

Michael adds, “Mine came back but it’s gone again. I have to take stupid medicine now. And I have a stupid teacher who doesn’t understand anything.”

Anna seems to understand. “My teacher asked my mom if the other kids can catch my cancer. She said maybe I should wear a mask so I don’t give them germs.”

“What a dummy.” Michael’s voice is sympathetic. “They should fire her.” I notice immediately how, without talking down to her, he sounds more like a kid than when he talks to me. He’s adapting to his audience, another sign of his vast intellectual ability.

“Yeah. What a dummy!” Anna giggles. “Want to go look for cool sticks? There’s some over there that come off the crabapple trees, and they’re bendy.”

That thought of that teacher makes me tense up. I turn to the mom. “Her teacher actually said that?”

The mom nods. “Yup. The ignorance out there will just astound you sometimes. I had to go to the principal and he wasn’t even that helpful. It was only when I threatened to go to the diocese that they finally caved and said she could be in class without a mask. It was fucking ridiculous.” She frowns. “Our technology is so advanced, so smart. But they you run into a little pocket of ignorance, and it’s a pocket that comprises something critical, like school. Work. Insurance. So you can’t just take off and find a better pocket. You have to stay, and stay, and fight. And it’s so exhausting.”

“I’m sorry.” I touch her arm with my mitten.

“I’m sorry.” She smiles. “I’m Kelsie. Anna’s mom. I guess we never met at the hospital. It was so crazy. All the chemo kids together.”

I shake my head. “I’m Shai. I’m not Michael’s mom. I’m his therapist. He doesn’t have a mom.”

“Oh! Oh. That’s sad. You do—therapy at the beach?” But she looks stiffer, as if she wanted to open up to me because I understood, and now that I’m just the therapist, not the mom, I can’t possibly, and she wants to close back up, a rose against the night storm.

“Yes. Sometimes,” I say. “We’ve been working together for a month now. He’s making a lot of progress.”

She nods. “I’m sure he is. And it’s great that he has such a personal hands-on therapist.” But she’s reserved, a mask unrolling like a shade to cover her expression. “It’s just that if you’re not—family, you’ll just never understand what they go through. What we all go through.”

Then she looks horrified. “I’m sorry I said that. It’s probably not true. And anyway, I-I should be happy that you don’t know. That people don’t know. It’s just… when you go through it personally, you see it from the inside out.” Her voice is bleak. “And it feels so isolating. Like even the people who care, and want to help you? It’s like they’re just looking at you through a thick piece of glass, and they can see you gesturing, but they can’t make out your words.” She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I should stop talking now.” She starts to turn away, her shoulders up, a drawbridge raising.

I like her already, and I don’t want to lose this fragile bond we just formed. “It’s okay. I get it. I know why it matters.” And I do.

I somehow need to convince her, and as I talk, it feels good to let the words out. “I get how you can walk around wondering how the rest of the world is functioning. How you want to kill them and watch their blood run out because they’re considering whether they should get lace-scalloped or plain-edged towels for the guest bathroom in Target, and you are stuck behind them and you don’t care about edges.

“But you have to wait until they are done with their ten-minute giggling discussion so you can get in there, too. Because you have someone coughing up blood and choking on it in the night and all the old towels are stained, and your mom gave you fifty dollars and told you to get the darkest cheapest ones you could find while she waits in the car and smokes with fingers that tremble.”

And as I speak these things I haven’t spoken in years, my voice gains vehemence, fluidity. “Because they have no idea how lucky they are, and they have no respect for what you’re going through, and they give you attitude because you took two seconds too long to order a hot cocoa in Starbucks in the hospital lobby because you were wondering if today is the day your sister is going to die, and whether she’ll do it while they’re putting on the whipped cream, and if it will hurt.

“You want them to hurt, too, so they can suffer like you are. Maybe it will teach them to be kinder. Not even kinder. So they can be human again. So that if you need to take an extra goddamn minute in the coffee line, you can, without getting someone muttering ‘move your slow idiot ass’ under their breath.”

I idly wonder—even as I’m talking, completely focused on my words—if my syllables will freeze in this arctic air, maybe shatter into dust and disappear, taking their pain with them. If only.

Kelsie’s rapt; her face focused. She steps closer.

I pause and add, “And then you have to somehow go to school, and do homework. And you have to mail things at the post office. Buy meat at the deli. All these people who don’t know what you’re going through, and don’t care. You’re an alien on Earth. You look like a human, but you’re not like them. You’re Other. You’re so separate that you can see the millions of miles between you. You’re looking at them all through the small end of a telescope. But you have to interact. And it’s the most soul-crushing, excruciating thing you’ll ever have to do in your life—to live it, when someone you love isn’t able to do the same.”

Tears are in my eyes, and I panic and look down fast—I don’t want anyone to see me looking so sad, especially Michael, but he and Anna are running away together, holding sticks and laughing in the distance. When I lift my head, the wind makes my tears hurt like ice, so I wipe at them with my mittens, and the thick weave does nothing except redistribute the moisture in an even less convenient pattern, so I pull off the wool and dig in my pocket, finding a crispy used tissue and dabbing at my face with the clean part.

Kelsie touches my arm, a compassionate gesture. “You do understand.” Her voice is different now; it holds respect and sympathy. “I wish you didn’t, though.”

I take a deep breath. “Wow. That’s something I haven’t talked about in a long time.”

“You can tell me more, if you want to,” she says. I see compassion in her gaze, and even more, friendship. The kind of friendship—sisterhood, maybe—that you only experience with an exclusive and sad group. War veterans. Combat amputees. When you share something so fundamental, it’s like the permafrost topsoil of friendship, the kind that you chip at with a teaspoon when you start making a friend, is blown away, leaving the real you to connect with the real them. It’s a friendship that skips over the social niceties, the first dozen letters, and starts you right in at J or K instead of making you wade through the crippling anxiety and boring crap of A, B, and etcetera.

I manage to laugh a little bit. “It’s okay.”

“So I know you’re a therapist, but do you, you know?” She pauses. “Do you see one yourself? Because it seems like even therapists need someone to talk to. Maybe especially therapists. Because of everything you probably hear and deal with.”

“It’s not a problem for me. I just got caught by surprise by a memory.” I nod, to reinforce my claim. This is a pain I don’t want to feel.

“You know, it’s not a sign of weakness to get help yourself. Even if you’re the one that usually does the helping.” Her voice is kind. “Put on your own breathing mask first, and all that.”

I nod again. “I tell my clients all the time, and it’s great advice. It’s just a momentary thing. I’m past it.” I’m worried that she’ll think I’m not a good therapist if I have such big issues in myself.

She sighs. “I don’t think you can ever get past it.” But she’s not challenging me; she’s looking into the wind, and I think she’s seeing her own bloody towels and coffee line, her own bad memories, whatever twisted wraiths exist in her own brain. Maybe she wishes her pain could shatter in this cold and blow away, just like I did.

“Are you a therapist, too?” I don’t think so, but you never know.

She laughs. “All cancer moms are therapists, too.”

“Not all of them.” A burst of anger, white hot, fills me, for what I never got from my own mom.

She gives me a questioning look, but doesn’t say anything because the kids are back, their laughter a beautiful healing sound, blowing all around us in the wind like flower petals, like glitter.

“Mama! Look! Look at my stick! It’s a perfect stick to make a fairy swing. Michael found it for me.” She looks up at him shyly, her eyes full of reverence, and my heart swells with pride at the way he’s being so kind. I did that—I helped him get here. The past few weeks have been a whirlwind, and it took him a while to adjust to me, but he’s listening. When I talk to him, he listens. And he takes my advice. He’s able to let his kindness out again.

But then I see something else—it’s not just kindness, it’s a desperate need. This ten-year-old genius who can do calculus, who has the vocabulary of a college student and who knows what it’s like to have clear poison drip into your veins, a slow burn that might—if he’s lucky—kill off the more serious poison that’s growing inside him like a sick twisted vine—this boy needs to laugh and play, too. He needs to gather sticks for a little girl, to run in the wind with nobody else judging. He needs to be needed by someone smaller. By someone bigger. By someone who matters.

And suddenly I know what I need to tell his father.

To continue reading, please find A Handful of Fire. Thank you!