Boracay Vows

by Maida Malby

  She was the only one who hadn’t been enjoying everything life had to offer each day. Nothing in Krista’s life changed after they’d made the vow, nor since they’d all left college.

  Work, work, and more work. It was all she did. She had obtained her MBA purely for her career advancement and financial security. It wasn’t a case of taking advantage of an opportunity that suddenly came her way. There was no impulse there. No seizing the moment.

  “I have become like Sheila.” Krista shuddered, suddenly feeling cold. I also want to go somewhere I haven’t been, do things I haven’t done, and fall in love with someone who treats me like an equal.

  Despite her promises to her friends and herself, she kept putting off her goals until she turned thirty. She experienced a pang of regret for all the times she’d declined Angela’s invitations to try new adventures with her. She was sorry for snapping at Maddie whenever her friend tried to fix her up on a date.

  In truth, all of them attempted to set her up with someone in the fourteen years they had known each other. But after a couple of awful blind-date experiences, she began to make excuses for not going. Her reasons were legitimate at the time, but looking back at things now, perhaps she could have made an exception a time or two.

  Krista had a fantastic expectation that she would know right away when she finally fell in love. She hadn’t anticipated reaching thirty without feeling an attraction towards any man.

  Well, Krista, thirty is barreling around the corner; it’s time to meet it headlong. And correction, there is a man you are attracted to—Mr. Blake Ryan.

  Her eyes widened as inspiration struck. That’s it! There’s an opportunity right now, right here in Boracay, and I’m going to take it.

  Adrenaline rushing through her, Krista jumped up and strode to the bedroom to pick out one of her new bikini sets. She removed her boring old clothes and put on the daring attire. Again, she let her hair down and took off her glasses—she only required them for reading and to complete the nerdy look she’d been trying to project. They weren’t necessary now, especially with her newly conceived plans.

  Krista smiled with a glint in her eyes at the “new her” in the mirror. With the application of mascara and shimmery lip gloss—also helpfully provided by her friends—her excitement gave her cheeks a natural blush. No more dowdiness. Except for her pale skin, she looked like she could fit in, here in Boracay. I just may be able to pull this off.

  “They want something special, huh? I’ll give them something extraordinary, indeed. It must start with an apology to Mr. Blake Ryan. He is essential to accomplishing my Turning-Thirty Vow.”

  Chapter Two

  Boracay [bo-rah-kai], n. – a small island in the Philippines (located approximately 315 km (196 mi) south of Manila and 2 km off the northwest tip of Panay Island).

  The resort—simply called Perlas after “Pearl of the Orient Seas,” the romantic moniker for the Philippines—was nestled on the northeast area of Boracay Island. The whole western side, with its world famous White Beach, was the well-developed and most-visited part. Since the 1990s, several international travel publications and agencies had showered the island with awards and accolades, attracting the tourists in droves.

  The objective of Blake and the other owners of Perlas was to provide the rich and famous with the Boracay experience while maintaining their privacy. If they chose to party with the crowds in White Beach, guests could avail themselves of a motorboat for trips to and from their destination at their convenience. If they preferred to stay, the resort promised to deliver everything a discerning traveler needed at the touch of a button.

  It had taken his friends three years to convince Blake to partner with them to build this property, but when he committed to the venture, he was all in. Boracay was his favorite place in the Philippines. He’d visited at least once a year since he moved from the US.

  He had stayed at various parts of the island but found each of his accommodations lacking. The Shangri-La came close to his ideal, except it was much too big, and the presence of children inhibited his pleasure. He had nothing against kids—he hoped to have one or two someday, but that day hadn’t arrived yet.

  At thirty-three, Blake still enjoyed his bachelor status. Living in the Philippines worked well for him. It allowed him to be far away from his mother’s nagging, or as she called it, “loving pressure,” to get married and produce grandchildren for her and his dad.

  His two brothers obviously agreed with him; they also left New York as soon as they could. Southeast Asia seemed to hold a special attraction for the Ryan brothers. Aidan was based in Singapore, and Craig worked in Koh Samui, Thailand. Only the baby in the family, their sister Darcy, stayed in the US with their parents. As he left his cottage to take the short path to the beach, Blake made a mental note to invite his brothers to Perlas during Christmas break.

  An adult-only resort, Perlas had a limited occupancy of sixty. There were ten cottages—called kubo, after the traditional Filipino thatched palm hut—and twenty suites, or silid—bedroom in the vernacular. The cottages all had restricted beach access, while each of the suites in the main building boasted of ocean views.

  At the end of the path, Blake stopped for a moment to take in the beauty of his surroundings. He curled his toes into the powdery, white sand and breathed the sweet-smelling morning air. With an appreciative look at the cloudless blue sky, he broke into a run and dove into the clear aquamarine waters of the Sibuyan Sea.

  In Makati, the country’s central business district where he worked and lived, Blake made it a point to swim daily in his condominium’s rooftop pool. Nothing can beat the sun-warmed seawaters of the islands, though. I’ll take it over heavily chlorinated pool water, any day.

  After several rigorous laps from the shore to one of the buoys, Blake turned to float on his back. His thoughts turned to the intriguing woman who captured his attention the moment he interviewed her.

  Her direct-to-the-point manner had appealed to him greatly, more so than the fawning style of the other applicants. He’d hired her on the spot and had never regretted his decision.

  Krista Lopez, his senior market analyst, was one feisty lady. She was a welcome departure from her demure and timid compatriots.

  In the six months since she joined the company, Krista had proven herself to him and to the board of directors. She had been invaluable with her keen insight during the September fiscal year review. He was sure no one would object if he promoted her to the management team at the end of her first year.

  Tired of floating, Blake climbed onto one of the resort’s several platforms for water sports staging, placed at several intervals in the middle of the sea. He checked that he was out of sight, then took off his swim shorts to work on his overall tan. He lay face down with his shorts between his privates and the rough wooden boards. Pillowing his head on his arms, he continued to contemplate the estimable Ms. Lopez.

  Since she reported to someone further down in the company’s management, Blake didn’t see her every day at the office. During the monthly general meetings, and whenever their service partners had major presentations that required his presence, his admiration continued to grow.

  Despite the schoolmarm outfits and simple makeup, she carried herself gracefully. She always sat tall, and her walk was a sight to behold. The woman glided across the room, not merely walked. “Glided? Really?” Blake grinned at the poetic turn his musings had taken. He turned over. His back was starting to prickle from the sun exposure.

  A slight smile appeared on his face as he recalled the first time he sat beside her during a briefing, two months ago. She wore her usual pantsuit, but on her feet were sexy fire-engine-red heels. When she stood no one could see her shoes because her pants were wide-legged and fell almost to the floor. While seated with one of her crossed legs swinging to a silent beat only she could hear, the shoes were eye-catching to say the least.

  Since then, he had speculated on what else Ms. Krista Lopez might be hiding b
eneath her unflattering outfits and stern librarian demeanor. That memorable day was probably when he decided he wanted her.

  Shortly after, Blake sought to know more about her; he hit the jackpot when he learned of Krista’s close friendship with Madeleine Duvall. Madeleine, or Maddie as she liked to be called, was a part-French, part-Filipina public relations dynamo. Both his company and Perlas engaged her agency’s services for PR and events management.

  He and Maddie moved in the same circles with their common interests. They had dated a couple of times before they started working together, but found no sparks of mutual attraction. Their casual attitude towards relationships was too similar, and they agreed to keep their relationship casually professional.

  The connection between the two women fascinated him. Maddie’s claim that they’d become friends at first sight surprised Blake. Yes, they were both intelligent, of the same age, and had similar multi-ethnic backgrounds. But in personal style and behavior they were miles apart.

  Maddie was overtly sensual, likely a byproduct of her bohemian upbringing. In contrast, Krista maintained a controlled and old-fashioned conservatism, which suggested a strict Catholic rearing. Blake once again grinned at the memory of Krista’s red shoes. Plenty of Catholic girls have a rebellious streak in them; perhaps I can bring out the bad girl in Krista. He laughed out loud at the thought. He did love a good challenge.

  Blake had lied to Krista when he knocked on her door. He knew it was really her. The idea to get Krista here in Boracay was his, even though he suspected she was not a beach person. He wanted her here because he was coming to the island himself.

  When Maddie casually mentioned that she and some friends were conspiring to give Krista the vacation of a lifetime, he suggested Perlas. She gave him a raised eyebrow and a warning look, but agreed readily enough. He figured she had her own agenda, and using him served her purposes.

  Blake was only too happy to take advantage of the opportunity to get closer to one Ms. Krista Lopez. He maneuvered the cottage assignment to place hers beside his, which for the past year had been his privilege as an owner.

  He had a firm policy against dating a colleague; it was a rule he intended to break for an extraordinarily special woman. This week was his lucky chance. It was now or never.

  Blake ended his pondering with that thought. He put on his shorts and dove back into the sea. Undaunted by Krista’s negative reception earlier, he headed for the first step in his planned seduction—an invitation to dinner tonight.

  His sudden appearance had probably rattled her, making her feel unsure. She’d lashed out. He had seen her blushes whenever they got close; he was sure he’d sparked her interest, too. Does she think I haven’t noticed how she makes it a point to keep her distance from me? Not a chance.

  Reaching the shore, Blake’s jaw dropped as a goddess walked gracefully towards him. The vision before him was clad in a black bikini top that barely contained her generous breasts. Her round hips were wrapped in a black-and-white, vertically striped sarong. She held a pair of jeweled sandals in one hand. Her wavy, shoulder-length hair, lifted by the gentle breeze, blew into her pretty face. She brushed it away with her free hand. Wow! It’s Krista.

  The stirring of arousal filled him, but Blake tried to clamp down on it. It wouldn’t do to overwhelm her with his sexual pursuit so soon. “Think of profit margins and returns on investments,” he advised himself. His wet swimsuit aided in cooling his ardor as he continued to admire the transformed image of the woman who had been occupying his thoughts for the past two months.

  This new Krista—this stunning beauty who came to a sudden stop upon seeing him—was straight out of his most erotic dreams.

  “Mr. Ryan,” Krista began as he got closer.

  “Blake, please. May I call you Krista?”

  “Of course, sir ... I mean ... Blake. I would like to apologize again about my outburst earlier. My flight was quite early, and I didn’t get enough sleep last night.” Krista fidgeted with the ties of her sarong as she spoke, which drew his eyes to her shapely waist.

  “And I would like to express my regret one more time for barging in on you so early, and for making you think I question your suitability to the beach.”

  He dragged his eyes back to her blushing face. “I was delighted to see a familiar face; it didn’t occur to me you might be less than enthusiastic to meet someone from work during your holiday.” His voice held a teasing tone. Gesturing for her to resume her walk, he fell in step with her, matching his stride to her shorter steps.

  “I have to admit I was a bit hangry, too,” Krista confessed sheepishly.

  “Hangry?”

  “You know, the unprovoked rage usually experienced by people who skipped a meal,” she clarified with a lilting laugh. He joined in her merriment; he liked her newly relaxed mood.

  “Plus, I was a little resentful I had to work overtime last week because you had to go on your vacation.” She said this with a raised eyebrow, the glint in her eyes suggesting playfulness.

  He raised his own eyebrow in response. “So, the truth comes out. But didn’t you consider that all your overtime was to prepare for your own vacation? It’s a weeklong break. I only gave the employees the Monday off because the holidays were in the middle of the week. You’re on leave Thursday and Friday, too.”

  She stopped walking and faced him with her hands clasped in front of her chest. “You personally approved my two extra days of vacation leave? Oh, thank you for not keeping me chained to my desk, Mr. Generous-And-Not-A-Total-Slave-Driver CEO. Thank you very much!” She fluttered her eyelashes overdramatically.

  He burst out laughing at her sass. “You’re welcome, Ms. Krista Middle-Name-Sarcastic Lopez.” They stood there grinning at each other, the earlier misunderstanding forgiven and forgotten.

  This is good. She was starting to feel comfortable with him. At the office, he cultivated an aloof attitude around the female staff. On the island, especially around Krista, he wanted to be warm and approachable.

  She resumed her walk, her gaze on the sea. “Seriously, I could really use the break. I haven’t had a holiday since I started my master’s degree, two years ago. I was working the whole time and then when I finished my MBA, I joined your corporation right away. But don’t tell my friends I admitted that, because they would be all smug and say, ‘We told you so!’” She grinned, affection for her squad obvious in her voice.

  Taking advantage of the marked change in her attitude towards him, Blake suggested, “Would you like to grab some lunch? I just had a long swim, and I’m famished. I may get hangry, too, if I don’t eat soon.”

  She stopped and peered up at him, pondering the invitation. He kept a relaxed smile on his face, but inside he was willing her to agree.

  “Sure.” She looked around. “But where?” They had come to the end of the beach, close to the cliffs.

  Blake pointed to a path on the right. “That leads to my kubo. We can call in an order for the kitchen to bring food down, and we can eat at the cabana in the garden. I also need to shower and change clothes.” He gestured to his chest and arms, where the salt had started to crystallize on his bronzed skin.

  Krista stared at his chest for a beat too long, as if mesmerized by the sight, then turned towards his cottage. A blush bloomed again on her cheeks. After a shaky breath, she looked up at him and said, “Okay.”

  Satisfied he was getting his way, he sought to reassure her. “Don’t look so scared. I don’t eat senior market analysts for lunch.” Is she relieved or disappointed? I can’t tell. He continued cheekily, “Maybe for dinner, but not for lunch.” He winked at her, only half joking.

  She colored more at his teasing but squared her shoulders and glided forward. He motioned for her to precede him onto the path so he could watch her from behind. He was going to need a cold shower to dampen his libido; the sight of her round bottom bouncing as she walked made him randy again.

  Since fixing his eyes on her two months ago, Blake had been ce
libate. He was tired of dealing with Makati’s devious single ladies, especially those who deliberately pursued Western expatriates like him, to have a perceived better life elsewhere.

  The Filipinas were known to be among the most beautiful women in the world, but since he became a resident of the country, Blake made sure to conduct his bedroom affairs discreetly, with sophisticated expats or transient visitors instead.

  These days, he preferred to keep company with his buddies or with platonic female friends like Maddie. His appetite for meaningless liaisons had left him.

  Blake jogged past her to open his door. He picked up a menu from the kitchen counter and handed it to her. “Can you order for us? I’ll have the chicken and pork adobo, chop suey, and ripe mango shake. Thanks!”

  He strode briskly towards his bedroom, fully aware of her irate gaze on his back. He had glimpsed a flash of temper on her face when he issued the order. In truth, his skin had started to itch, but his rush to get away was mainly to hide his growing erection from her.

  Chapter Three

  Sarap [sar-ap], adj. – delicious.

  Krista stared at Blake’s back in dumbfounded silence. What an arrogant ass! She had to admit, he was drop-dead gorgeous and mouth-wateringly sexy, but still arrogant and still an ass. Ordering me about like I work for him. She slapped a hand on her forehead. Oh, wait. I do work for him. He’s lucky I'm hungry or I’d walk out on his fine ass.

  With a huff, she moved to sit on the plush sofa. Taking the cottage phone in hand, she dialed room service and gave his selections along with her pork sinigang, deep-fried whole tilapia, and buko juice. She asked for three servings of rice, guessing he could probably polish those off with no problem at all.