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Refreshed, Arabella emerged from the bathroom, rubbing her hair with one of the plush white towels, wearing the matching robe provided by the hotel. She moved to stand by the open door to the stone-floored patio, watching the fiery ball of the sun sink into the ocean. A few scattered clouds blushed orange and pink.
Just as she turned away, a man came along, his features shadowed by the fading light. His strides ate up the beach, long legs sending sand flying behind him. He wore only a pair of short trunks showing off the carved body of a Greek statue. Maybe she was jumping into Earl’s bed too fast.
***
Will Sanders raced harder once he passed Hibiscus Cottage. He hoped Miss Carmichael enjoyed the room he’d assigned her by phone while taxiing down the runway the other day. The front desk had given him her name, assuring him only one guest had arrived that day. He’d also learned the reservation was for two weeks—the exact amount of time he’d planned to be away.
Something about the woman called to him. He’d tried to put her out of his mind, told himself he’d assigned her the home closest to his because it was the nicest, and she’d looked so tired. And kind of cranky. Anyone who traveled to a relaxing island paradise in a tailored business suit and heels, with their hair pulled back into a tight, face-stretching bun, needed all the tension release they could get. Hibiscus Cottage provided all of that and a killer view, as well.
After setting her up, he tried to put her out of his mind. But, after a few days of visiting in Florida, he gave up and booked a return flight. Used the excuse Earl, from his old firm, was on the island, and he needed to spend some time with him. He’d almost convinced himself, too. Once the off-season ended, he’d never get away, but his family and friends could—and did—visit him often on the island.
Ms. Carmichael reminded him of himself, when he’d been working his way up to partner in a top Miami law firm. Tense, nervous, without an ounce of happiness. He only got all that in a thirty-second glance because he recognized the look.
As they rolled down the runway, he’d seen her standing by her luggage alone and wanted to comfort her, to show her it didn’t have to be all about anxiety and the rat race. To embrace her and tell her there were better ways to live.
His better self tried not to wonder how all that golden-blonde hair might look freed from its bondage. To picture those full lips gliding down his abdomen to take him in her mouth and suck him until he came. Or to imagine her legs wrapped around his waist while he helped her with her stress in the most visceral of ways.
He had returned to the island to hang out with his buddy Earl and to offer a little kind advice to a woman in desperate need of it. If she didn’t loosen up some, she’d live a miserable life. Like the one he had before arriving on the paradise he now called home.
Life didn’t have to be hard or tense or a constant fight to advance in some big company. Success came in a lot of guises, including one where a person lived on an island away from all of the everyday worries, mixing drinks and enjoying the company of people from all over the world.
Everyone didn’t want to be a bartender, but they had to be open to finding their own version of paradise. That or end up with hypertension, ulcers, and a half dozen other stress-related conditions. He’d thrown out all the meds but kept the empty bottles in his top drawer as a reminder. In case he ever considered returning.
Arriving on his own porch, Will bent over, letting his breathing return to normal before heading inside to get ready for dinner. The dining room had more than food to offer tonight. He’d join Ms. Carmichael if she seemed open to company. Otherwise, he could dine with Earl. He could watch her from his friend’s table and consider his next move.
He breathed deep, letting the island’s magic travel to every cell in his body.It’s good to be home.
