by Anna Lowe
Kyle’s voice reached through the gloom of her memories, just above a whisper. “Is that why you do this?”
She stopped sanding but couldn’t muster the willpower to look up. “Do what?”
“This.” He swept a finger around the horizon. “Adventuring.”
She felt her face go hard. “I do it because I like it. Because it was always my dream.”
She was practically baring her teeth as she spoke, and she knew it.
“Do you enjoy it?” His voice was soft but the words prodded uncomfortably close to her heart.
She looked down and traced a line in the dust around the handrail. Did she enjoy it? The landscapes, the people, the places, yes. Being alone, though…not so much.
She looked at Kyle, then looked away again. What could she say? I hate it. I hate being alone. God, she’d sound like such a sissy.
“Do I like it?” she repeated, stalling for time. “Mostly.”
A heartbeat, then another. “But not always?”
Damn the man and the gentleness in his voice. “No, not always.” There, she admitted it. “But I do it anyway.”
“Why?”
She forced herself to meet his eyes the way she forced herself to look in a mirror sometimes. “Because not doing it would be selling myself out. Not doing it would be selling out on Lindsay, too.”
He had that look now, the one that drilled through her skin and right into her soul. She wished she had a shirt to pull over her bikini — better yet, some armor. She went back to sanding, defying him to pry any further. When he didn’t, something in her wobbled, like a crack in the dam giving way to the whole reservoir, and she went on in spite of herself.
“I can’t stand seeing people who do nothing with their lives. It doesn’t have to be travel. It could be anything. Sports, hobbies, art, whatever. But some people just lack passion.” She practically spat the words out. “That’s why I like working with kids, trying to make them see. Helping them dare, even. Dare to dream and dare to act.”
There was a long, uncomfortable pause, and she could feel his eyes on her.
“Hey, Hannah?”
She gritted her teeth and kept sanding. If he said something mushy right now, she’d have a hard time not snapping at him.
“What?” she growled.
“Want a glass of water?”
Her breath caught, and she found herself slumped over the railing, blinking away tears. She nodded, not trusting her voice.
A minute later, there was a glass of water in her hand and a hand on her shoulder, a kiss brushing her cheek. Without another word, Kyle went back to work. Hannah went back to sanding, too, glad for the silence and the quiet strength of his company.
The man was a prince. What had she done to deserve him?
Chapter Twenty-Five
“You sure I can’t help?” Kyle asked when Hannah kissed him good-bye at the dock after the fifth magical morning they’d woken up to together. They’d lingered over breakfast and only now were slowly, slowly getting on with the day.
“No, this one’s a one-woman job. But thanks,” she said. “See you in the afternoon. At three?”
“See you at three,” he echoed.
She puttered away in the dinghy, waving longer and more cheerily than any self-respecting adult would. But she couldn’t help it. He was a prince of a man, and the past days had been great. She’d never had so much fun — or gotten so much work done so quickly, thanks to Kyle’s help. All that remained on her job list were a few finishing touches.
She’d nearly completed the first coat of varnish when the cough of a badly maintained outboard engine filled her ears. The guys from Lucky Lady were heading her way. She squatted back on her heels. What did they want?
“Hiya, Hannah!” One of them grinned as they pulled up and grabbed Windfall’s rail. Mike, she remembered. He’d tried talking her up at a beach potluck a couple of islands back. The guy had been so sure of himself — and of scoring — that he’d turned her off immediately.
“Hi, Hannah,” said the other one, whatshisname. Scab? Scub? Something ridiculous like that. Whatever it was, she didn’t like the way his tongue caressed her name.
“Hi,” she said in a flat tone, wishing she’d worn a shirt over her bikini.
“How you doing?” Mike’s eyes roved her body.
“Pretty busy, actually.” Maybe they’d take the hint.
Or maybe not. “Where’s Robert?” Mike asked, looking like he damned well knew where Robert was.
Her mind raced. “He’s away for a day or two. Should be back any time, though.”
The two men glanced at each other, and Mike gave Scab — no, Scrub, that was his name — a subtle nod.
“Does Robert know about your boyfriend?”
She froze. “He’s not my boyfriend.” A dumb answer, she realized, too late.
The men exchanged winks.
“Good, ’cause we were kind of hoping you’d be interested in partying with us.” Mike smiled.
Hannah couldn’t hold back a snort. One they chose not to notice, apparently.
“Yeah,” said Scrub. “Seeing as we’re neighbors, you know.”
Hannah shot him her iciest look. “I have lots of work to do.”
“You know what they say. All work and no play…” Mike waggled his eyebrows.
Never had she had such a blatantly crude come-on — at least, not since Panama, where she’d gotten her ass pinched in a crowd.
“Not interested in partying.”
“Sure didn’t sound like that last night,” Scrub said, leaning closer.
Hannah could feel the heat rise in her face. Had they heard her in bed with Kyle? God, could she really have been that loud? But sound had a way of carrying over water, and yes, she might have lost control once or twice.
“Not interested in partying,” she repeated, eyeing Mike’s hand on the rail. So, so tempting to stomp on.
“Yeah, well, if you get lonely…” Mike said.
“You know where to find us,” Scrub finished.
Hannah turned on her toughest teacher look. “Good-bye.”
“Bye,” said Mike, giving her a last look-over.
“Bye, baby,” Scrub said, wearing an arrogant look that said he knew she’d come begging soon.
As if. Hannah watched them go, trying to quiet her pulse. The nerve! Whatever gave them the idea that she’d be interested in them?
She stiffened as the answer jumped into her mind. They’d seen her — worse, they’d heard her — with Kyle. If she was sleeping with a guy she’d just met, why wouldn’t she sleep with Mike or Scrub? It made perfect sense from their point of view.
Her stomach lurched as her mind whirled with a dozen ugly scenarios. Mike and Scrub would tell their friends, and they’d tell theirs. It was only a matter of time before word got around that Hannah was a girl who got around. Pretty soon, she’d have every desperate sailor on this side of the Date Line after her.
Shit. What if they told Robert? He’d throw her off his boat for sure. She’d assured him she was a serious sailor when she signed up, but he’d never believe her if he got wind of this.
Jesus, what had she done?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Hannah fretted through the next two hours, then all through the dinghy trip to shore. She was early to her rendezvous with Kyle and spent the time pacing the street. Up and back, up and back, like a panther in a small cage. She wanted — needed — to see Kyle. Maybe he’d have some idea of how to handle the rumors that were likely to hit the coconut grapevine soon. She sure as hell didn’t know what to do.
When he came around the bend and broke into a wide smile, something in her twisted. He liked being with her, he’d said. And she liked being with him. How could that be a bad thing?
“Hey, Hannah.”
She swept him into a bear hug and let herself pretend once again. When his arms wrapped around her, everything felt all right, and the fantasy was back. Somehow, everything would be all right.<
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“How was your day?” he murmured into her neck.
Good thing he couldn’t see her face. “Fine,” she lied, savoring the scent of him. “And yours?”
“Better now than before.”
A prince. The man was an absolute prince.
When they finally unwrapped — an operation that always took a good minute, his hugs were that good — Hannah kept one of his hands firmly in hers and led him up the hiking trail she’d been eyeing all week. It started beside the coral-block church and led straight up through a tangled forest to the island’s central peak. The view up there was said to go to infinity. Maybe up there, she’d find some clarity.
Or maybe she’d just find her head in the clouds once more.
They panted more than they talked on the way up, stopping once or twice to sip water and admire a panorama that expanded with every step of their ascent. The peak was the steepest part, where there was a rope tied along a rocky cliff face just short of vertical and barely enough footholds to keep the climb on the right side of sane.
Finally, she clambered onto a smooth boulder at the top and sucked in a long, deep breath.
“Wow,” Kyle breathed.
If his hand hadn’t been on her shoulder, she might have been tempted to leap into the view. The island lay at her feet, far, far below, with its edges curving away to infinity. The lush swath of land petered off into the bright green of the shallows, where the latticework of coral formations created a thousand patches of color. A white frothy fence corraled the lagoon into a nearly perfect circle with only one break — the south pass, where a sliver of blue snaked through a gap in the reef and into the open ocean. Outside was deep, dark ocean, extending in all directions to a horizon where the boundary between earth and sky was blurred. The only other point of land was a craggy peak to the east with a string of puffy clouds around its neck like a string of pearls.
“Bora Bora,” she murmured. The two islands stood like two lonely sentinels in the sea, guarding a gateway to some mystery.
Kyle shook his head slowly. “And you sailed all the way here?” His voice had a dreamy, almost wistful undertone.
Hannah tightened her grip on his hand, looking east. Yep, she’d really come all that way. Her chest filled just at the thought, remembering all the naysayers back home who said it couldn’t be done. Well, she’d done it.
She squeezed her eyes shut, brought her hand to her lips, and blew a kiss into the breeze — a ritual of hers whenever she reached a place that brought her that much closer to heaven.
Here’s to you, Lindsay. Here’s to a couple of kids and their crazy dreams.
Kyle’s arms wrapped around her from behind, bringing heaven even closer. She kept her eyes closed, feeling the view more than seeing it.
“There’s Windfall and Imagine,” Kyle said, giving every boat a nod. He was getting to be a real sailor, recognizing boats like so many faces. “And Lucky Lady.” Hannah stiffened in his arms and opened her eyes. “And what’s that boat behind Windfall?”
She knew the one he meant — the one that had arrived alongside Lucky Lady the previous day. It was one of those production line boats that were harder to tell apart. She hadn’t placed it yet.
“Not sure.” She turned in Kyle’s arms, putting her back firmly to the boats while opening her lips to his.
“Mmm,” he mumbled. “Is it just me or do you taste even better up here?”
“I think it’s just you. Tasting even better, I mean.”
He shook his head no, pulling her lips with his. “Don’t think so.”
Part of her was tempted to push her hips into his and measure his response, but another part was content with the quiet intimacy of the moment. A gull glided by, head cocked toward the two strange love birds visiting its lofty realm.
God, life was good. The quiet company. The mutual understanding. The companionship.
Hannah held her breath through her next couple of heartbeats and scanned the view.
Kyle pointed at the shallows. “I’m pretty sure those colors don’t exist in New York. What would you call that shade of green? Or that kind of blue?”
She nodded. The mottled colors of the lagoon were impossible to distinguish. A little like love and lust, except mixing up colors didn’t end up hurting quite as much.
“And all that silver…” He indicated the horizon.
The sun glinted off the ocean, screaming, Look! Look at me! The ocean was boundless, full of possibility. Hannah’s gaze slid to Kyle once more. How much possibility?
Maybe she could look him up when she got back to the US. Maybe they could see where things went then. Maybe—
She broke the thought off there. Everything would be different then. She’d caught him at loose ends in the South Pacific, off guard and out of his element. Once he flew home, civilization would wrap its tendrils around him once more. He’d be back to the Cindys of the world, and Hannah could never compete with that. Tangled hair and casual clothes weren’t just part of her vacation wardrobe; they were part of her.
No, it just wouldn’t work. She didn’t belong in his world, and he was only passing through hers.
The sea gull did another flyby, bringing her gaze back to the boats below. Windfall: Robert would be back soon. Imagine: the perfect family she might never have. Lucky Lady: two men with hungry eyes she could still feel scraping over her body. She shivered the feeling away and squatted over her backpack, rooting around for the cookies she’d packed.
“Hey, Hannah.”
She looked up.
“Smile,” Kyle called as his camera clicked. He came in close for another shot, looped an arm around her shoulders, and turned the Nikon around for a selfie. “Ready?”
Hannah wondered if she’d ever be ready to let him go.
“Ready,” she mumbled.
Another click, and their first-ever photo together was burned onto a memory card. Hannah wondered how she’d feel looking back on it someday. She wondered all the way back down to sea level.
“How did the varnishing go today?” Kyle asked.
She skidded out over loose gravel, then found her footing again. “Pretty good. Another few coats and I’ll be done.”
“And the next job?”
“It’s the last job on the list.”
“Great!”
It was great, because everything had gone faster than she’d thought, which meant she’d have more time with Kyle.
The image of Mike and Scrub barged in on her thoughts, spoiling the moment. That and the ever-present sense of a clock ticking away toward the inevitable parting with Kyle.
“What were you up to this morning?” she said, forcing a light tone.
“I told Tiri I’d help her fix up her website.” His voice was as jaunty as his step.
“What was wrong with it?”
He laughed. “What isn’t wrong with it? It’s too busy. Lousy presentation. No sense of cohesion.”
Hannah tried to remember the one time she’d checked out the web page. It seemed okay to her.
Kyle went on. “Nothing matches. The fonts are all over the place, and the images are too scattered. She needs to get a brand going and advertise better. Get on Facebook. Collect testimonials. All that.”
“Facebook?” Hannah threw a skeptical glance back at him. Was he serious?
Kyle nodded enthusiastically as his hands tossed bold plans into the air. “She could be doing so much more. Get her own windsurfers to rent. Offer free Wi-Fi. Get a newsletter started.”
“A newsletter? What is she going to report? Beautiful yesterday, still beautiful today?”
“That’s a great idea! I’ll definitely add a weather tab on the screen.”
“Not really what I meant,” Hannah mumbled.
Kyle laughed; maybe he hadn’t heard her. “Eighty-two degrees and sunny. That will bring the customers in!”
Hannah slowed, then stopped. “But peace and quiet is the whole appeal of this place.”
Kyle was still o
n a roll. “I’m trying to talk Tiri into joining a hotel association. That will give her advertising, raise her profile.” He walked right into the stop sign of her hand. “What?”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to join any associations,” Hannah said, flexing her fingers against his chest. “Maybe she likes to do her own thing.”
Kyle looked at her face and seemed to realize her disapproval for the first time. “Well, don’t you belong to the teacher’s union?”
“Only because I have to. They come with a lot of strings attached, you know.” She could feel a furrow building between her eyebrows just thinking about it. “I bet the hotel association is the same.”
Kyle shook his head. “It’s hard to be a renegade in the business world.”
“But this isn’t the business world.” She swept a hand across the view. “It’s the South Pacific. And a lot of people like it the way it is.” Her eyes fixed on his and wouldn’t let go. “Think of the missionaries, Kyle. They came to help, but all they did was erode the islanders’ culture.” She shook her head. “What Tiri needs is someone to fix her roof, not her Internet presence.”
“But a business needs customers! So I reworked the page with a new logo. Just one hibiscus flower and a couple of red and orange swirls, Polynesian style. It works really well. Less is more, right?”
“Exactly,” Hannah said. “Less is more.”
They stood in an increasingly uncomfortable showdown as the silence around them pressed closer and closer. Finally Hannah shook her head and continued down the path. She’d come on this hike for the views, not for a marketing pitch from Mr. Civilization. Where was her manta prince?
“What is it?” Kyle called behind her, but her footsteps grew longer and longer, all the way down to the seaside road. She could hear his steps crunching on the coral path. “Hannah, what’s wrong?”