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Tossing off the bedcovers, she crossed to the table and devoured breakfast. Then took her glass of OJ out to the balcony, where she reveled in the breathtaking views. Then she returned to the room just as Christian strolled in, looking devilishly handsome in a black polo shirt and dress pants.
Though she told him, “You’re going to swelter in pants today.”
“Won’t be the heat that does the trick,” he told her. “You’re mostly going to be in a bikini the next two days. That’ll send my temperature into the red zone.”
Her first assignment was investigating the local mom-and-pop shops and eateries. Then she’d be swimming with the dolphins, snorkeling, and, finally, learning to windsurf in the resort’s cove. The cooking demos would take place later in the week.
She asked Christian, “Rory’s off to work with his chefs?”
Christian slipped his arms around her and said, “Yes, and he’s building in the competition for favorite local recipes with four chefs going head-to-head. This ought to be interesting. The audience for the exhibition and competition will be a mix of regional residents and tourists. So I’d say the pendulum could swing any way.”
“This’ll be fun. But we’re cramming a lot into one hour, aren’t we?”
“The network and I decided we’d do two-parters for the test run. Pack as much of a punch as we can.”
“Because we need to stand out,” she said with a nod. “That makes sense. There are tons of cooking shows on TV.” She gnawed her lower lip. Felt a sense of foreboding low in her belly.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Christian kissed her temple. “You are going to shine so bright. No one doubts that for a second. So don’t worry. Don’t stress. Just be your radiant self.”
“Hmm. Rory’s always telling me that.”
“Well, then, fuck. What a drag that I have to agree with him.”
She laughed. “You can always be counted on to ease the tension.” She kissed him. “You’re really too fantastic for words.”
“I know.”
Bayli rolled her eyes.
He said, “Now … go shower. Your hair and makeup ladies are on their way.”
She went about her business while Christian went about his. They met up in the foyer later and their driver took them into town, with half of the production crew trailing behind—the others had departed with Rory. They filmed Bayli’s documentary with all of her tidbits gleaned from her research. There’d been numerous takes from various angles to be edited together, but Bayli had been so enthused and had been so well prepared that she could deliver commentary smoothly and easily.
By the end of the evening, though, she was exhausted. The next day was more of the same. She was in the string bikini Rory had once teased her about. Had a mask on her face and flippers on her feet, and was about to wade into a shallow cove and photograph the ocean life when one of the production crew handed over a small stack of freshly made flour tortillas.
Her brow knitted. “It’s not exactly lunchtime. What am I supposed to do with these?”
He told her, “Pull off chunks and drop them in the water. The fish will swarm you. Better shots for the show.”
“Yeah, no.” She shoved the stack back at him. “I don’t want to be swarmed. I know the new fad is to have fish nibble your feet, but huh-uh, no way. Not for this girl. Not going to happen.”
“You’re wearing fins,” he reminded her.
“Still not interested in the swarming.” She shot a look over her shoulder to Christian. He gave a half shrug. “Oh, sure,” she said. “Easy for you to be so noncommittal. You’re not swimming with piranhas.”
“Fish, sweetheart.” He grinned. “They’re just fish.”
“Right. Just fish.” She took the tortillas and went snorkeling. And loved every second of it.
She’d expected the dolphins to be an easier scenario to work with, but having the large creatures come right up to her and get in her face—in the most adorable way—had her squealing in near terror. For all of two seconds. She smoothed her hand over the head of one and it squeaked as though content and suddenly Bayli was in love.
On the third full day, she was in the resort’s cove on a lightweight board with water socks on her feet, gloves on her hands, and a life vest buckled around her. She’d spent the entire morning learning to balance her weight on the board while it sat atop two logs spaced from tip to end. Then she’d worked on her technique in the shallow water. Now there was a sail attached to the board and as it floated in the water, the instructor yelled out directions for her to hoist the sail and let the wind catch it.
Sure. All good in theory.
But bending over to clasp the uphaul was challenging, as the light ripples of water caused the board to rock. She lost her balance and fell backward into the lagoon. Repeatedly. On her fifth or sixth try, she was actually able to lift the sail.
“Grab the boom!” her instructor directed.
