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“When there are fortunes involved, the cousins tend to stay closer. Whether you want them to or not.” That impatient anger tinged his voice, now underpinned with regret. It means I’ve likely lost.
“You know, maybe we should talk about it.” She tried to make the offer sound casual. “Get it off your chest.”
“No.” He shook his head brusquely. “I want to enjoy this evening—and to show you this.”
She was about to reply to that, to press him, but they rounded a bend, the foliage parted and Miguel swept a hand at the scene before them, as if he’d created it himself. A misty waterfall poured down a mossy cliffside, pounding into a deep pool that churned with fine bubbles like champagne. The emerald shadows were lit with solar lights, soft and subtle, like fairy glow. A candlelit table for two perched on the moss beside the water, the crystal sparkling with mist from the waterfall.
“Thank you, mi amor.” Miguel squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek.
“For what?”
“The look on your face. This is my favorite place in the world and it means so much to share it with you now.”
It was tempting to pursue the significance of the darkness in his voice, but he’d made it clear that she was there to enjoy and be enjoyed, not for serious conversation. She really needed to let go of this. You’re on vacation, dammit. Just enjoy.
“Swim before or after we eat?”
“Why not both? We’ll need to get in seven swims, if we want to keep to the rules.”
He flicked her a sharp glance, catching a hint of what she hadn’t said. She gave him an airy, vacation smile, as if she didn’t notice his seething mood beneath the charm. A piece of work, the pair of them.
And he did have the charm going full-bore. He made the evening beyond romantic. They swam in the water, which did feel like swimming in the finest champagne, and ate an amazing cold dinner of oysters, shrimp, lobster and other delicacies. They fed each other bits of chocolate, grew quite drunk on champagne, and at midnight, Miguel kissed her with such tender feeling, she thought she might melt away like sugar in the rain.
But, true to his assurances, they did not have sex, making her wonder if he somehow thought sex and romance couldn’t go together. She thought about telling him she’d rather have the former and go without the latter, if he insisted on an either/or. After all, pretty much any man could fake the flowers and fancy dinner thing for a while. None of them had ever produced the sexual scenarios Miguel thought up.
She didn’t, however, and they slept in a mosquito-netting-draped bed, set in a clearing a few steps away, falling asleep to the sound of the waterfall.
It should have been idyllic.
January 1
New Year’s Day
Eight Maids a’Milking
“So, do you have any new year’s resolutions?”
“I never make resolutions,” Tilda told him, which wasn’t exactly true. They sat at a little breakfast café near the harbor of the town Miguel had flown them to. She’d changed into the white Marilyn sundress he’d brought along for her and some flat sandals for walking. She’d repaired herself the best she could in the café bathroom, pocketing the feather pins and finger-combing her hair, splashing water on her face and wiping away the smears of the industrial-strength makeup.
Good thing the Caribbean was all about being casual.
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “How un-American of you.”
It felt a little barbed, which was why she hadn’t wanted to jump into answering the question. He’d been testy this morning, full of restless energy. The New Year’s Eve romantic evening had been chaste and lovely, but he seemed to be a happier man after a lot of kinky sex. She blamed some of her own irritation with him on the same thing.
“Which way do you go—full-on type A American resolutions or island time tomorrow-is-soon-enough?” she volleyed back.
“Ha ha,” he answered, his eyes scanning the harbor. Unsettled. Anxious.
“You know, I would be fine with going back to the resort.”
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sp; He frowned at her. “Why do you say that?”
“Well, this has been lovely and wonderful—and I appreciate all the trouble you’ve gone to—but you’re clearly concerned about your business affairs and—”
He cut her off with a chop of his hand. “I told you I don’t wish to discuss my business.”
