Destination Romance

by Barbara McMahon

  What if some of her new friends were at Marco's? How would she explain Michael to them? She’d never told them she’d been married. She began to have second thoughts about the whole idea. She should have told him no; why hadn't she? He’d try to talk her into coming back and she’d refuse. Why hadn’t she just said no to start with?

  Because she wanted to see if she could do it–have dinner and walk away knowing she’d done her best to explain her feelings. Find out why he looked so tired—had he been ill? See if there was anything to say before he left Key West. After seven years of marriage, there should be something to say.

  They wouldn’t need to meet each other again after that. She didn’t plan on returning to Boston. Donovan Construction had no ties to Key West; therefore Michael wouldn't be coming this way again.

  It was sad. For a moment nostalgia threatened to overwhelm her. They'd been so happy when they'd first married. She had been so in love with him, so proud he'd chosen her for his wife. But gradually his work had grown more demanding, his goals more lofty, until Michael rarely spent any time with her unless it was at the endless round of parties and social events designed to further the interests of Donovan Construction.

  Which it had. The firm had grown by leaps and bounds. From luxury homes, to low-rise office buildings, to shopping malls, Donovan’s was known to be the best in the Tri-State area.

  Dinner tonight would not expand the business. What would they even talk about once she made it clear she was content doing what she was doing, making friends, furnishing her apartment the way she wanted?

  Katie’s small apartment was only a dozen blocks from the hotel, on a quiet side street. Her heart lifted every day as she started her walk home. The sun was warm on her back, the air gently stirring in the afternoon breeze—enough to give an illusion of coolness, though the hot sun belied it. Her eyes scanned the colorful stands and boutiques that lined Duval Street—Old Key West's main street—enjoying the bright colors of the wooden buildings with their fancy gingerbread trim; the variety of merchandise available for tourists and natives alike: bright T-shirts, shells of every color, and the profusion of flowers.

  She’d deliberately sought a warm climate, looking for a place that was as different from Boston as she could find to start over. She wanted a less formal lifestyle, with people ready to be friends and easy to get along with. Kicking off the traces, she wanted a totally different life. She'd found it in Key West.

  Katie enjoyed her walks to and from work, discovering new sights each day with the gardens of the homes she passed, or the displays the shops put out. She loved greeting the shopkeepers as she passed, buying some fresh fruit at one of the vendor’s stands each morning. The fresh air and exercise brought a new freedom to her body. Key West was small enough so that she could walk almost everywhere, from the beach to work, to the stores.

  The change from the frigid Boston winter was so novel that she was constantly surprised and delighted. Boston was freezing in February, but in Key West the balmy days were ideal—warm and sunny. Occasionally they had rain, but it was not a dreary, cold rain like that of Boston winters, but warm, almost like a shower to freshen the flowers. Some afternoons she danced on her small balcony in the rain. The water was refreshing and sweet. Everything was colorful, casual and fun. She was glad she'd chosen Key West to start over.

  The foot traffic on Duval was heavy at this time of the afternoon. Bronzed men and women in scanty attire lounged at the pavement cafes. Sun burnt tourists gazed at the offerings of the shops along the way. Royal palms offered spots of shade on the hot pavements. Here and there a courtyard offered a glimpse of cool garden serenity in the sultry afternoon. The soft breezes that constantly blew from the water caressed her cheeks, tossed the short curls on her head and cooled her skin.

  She turned on to her street. Bougainvilleas climbed the wall to her right, its bright purple flower a vibrant contrast to the stark whitewash of the wall. It was a wide, quiet street lined with big old houses, some of which had been converted into flats. The street had called to her when she'd first seen it—she'd known her place was in one of the converted houses.

  In only minutes she opened the door to her apartment, crossing quickly to the french doors, throwing them wide to the afternoon breeze. Bright pots of flowers lined her small balcony, giving more color and fragrance each day. She loved her view—a glimpse of the blue water to the right, the green of the neighbor’s lawn to the left and everywhere the tall, stately palms swaying against the azure sky. It was quite a change from Boston.

  She surveyed her small apartment, pleased anew by what she saw. She’d furnished it cheaply, buying things second-hand from garage sales, using pretty, crisp blue and white gingham to cover the mismatched pieces, giving the room a coordinated look. Starched white curtains framed the windows. There were few extras for decorations—no pictures, no knick-knacks. Yet her apartment was comfortable and welcoming.

  Life on Key West was vastly different from the opulent life she'd led in Boston. She didn't miss any of that hectic pace. The friends she'd made here lived in circumstances similar to her own. They liked simple pleasures and proved to Katie what she'd often suspected in the past–that money wasn't needed to make people happy.

  Maybe money even caused unhappiness. Look at her own life. The aunt who had raised her had money, but no husband, no children of her own, stuck with her sister’s child whom she relegated to nannies and boarding school.

  Michael had no real interests beyond work, earning money to spend it on material things, not for enjoyment, but to impress. Katie had come to believe experiences meant more than material things. She relished each day with new experiences tumbling over themselves.

  Pampered—yes, Katie has been pampered from birth. Her aunt had been one of the Boston Brahmins–old family, old money. She'd raised her niece in elegant splendor, constantly emphasizing Katie's place when she was home. Making sure she attended all the right schools.

  Michael had taken over when they'd married, sheltering her from everyday life as surely as if she'd been in a cocoon. She’d never given much thought to earning her own living. She wasn't sure now what she would do with the rest of her life, but she’d broken free from the past and was making a new start. Something would turn up, but for now, she was content to make beds and spend her free time at the beach.

  She needed to take the next step and make sure the divorce went through. She’d get that assurance from Michael tonight.

  She changed quickly, and went to meet one of her friends—they were going snorkeling. Debbie had been at the hotel the longest of any of her new friends—over four years. She'd introduced Katie to snorkeling. Love at first sight! Katie went whenever she could. Grabbing her gear, she headed out.

  She walked the several blocks to the beach. She found this the loveliest time of day at the beach—the late afternoon. The sand was soft and white, imported; she'd been told, from Barbados. Fringed with coconut palms and leafy mango trees, this particular beach was not large, but beautifully contrasted with the varied blues of the sea. The coconut palms, laden with fruit, stretched out towards the water, their spots of shade providing welcome relief from the blazing sand. Only the tourists exposed themselves to its full rays of the sun and heat of the sand.

  The Gulf of Mexico was warm and crystal-clear. Beneath its surface the bright, colorful tropical fish darted and swam in the pristine water. The yellows and blues of angelfish and butterfly fish showed clearly against the light sandy bottom. She often dived from the beach. Whenever they could afford it, she and her friends joined a group on a boat and dived out by the reef. The pretty coral formations were a fascinating delight to Katie. Their lacy fans, pink and yellow colors and intricate designs enchanted her. She never tired of exploring.

  The first time Katie’d wanted to go to the reef and ran into a money issue she'd realized how different her life would be in the future. As Michael Donovan's wife, she could afford anything. As Katie Harrington, newly single, recent
ly arrived in Key West, she had to watch her expenses and budget carefully.

  She greeted Debbie when she arrived and before long they were in the water exploring the bounty beneath the gentle waves. This was her idea of the perfect life.

  Katie was later returning home than she’d planned, and she rushed through a quick shower, dressing at warp speed, drawing on a colorful pink and rose cotton sundress that hugged her body and flared at the waist. It was cool and comfortable. She dried her hair, applied a touch of mascara and was ready. Not wanting to be late meeting Michael, she hurried the few blocks to the hotel, arriving flushed and out of breath.

  Michael was already in the lobby, looking remote and withdrawn in dark trousers and a light shirt opened at the throat—casual for him, but almost formal by Key West standards. When he spotted her, he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling, his face looking younger.

  Suddenly she realized he’d rarely smiled over the last five or six years— work was too serious. For a moment, it looked as if he was glad to see her. Katie marveled at the transformation and involuntarily smiled back. He looked a different man than the dedicated hardcore businessman she knew—younger, relaxed, attractive.

  More like the man she'd married seven years ago.

  Her heart sped up a little as she hurried toward him and the worries over dinner disappeared.

  He stepped out to meet her, his eyes running slowly down the length of her, taking in her shiny blonde sun-streaked hair, the light gloss on her lips, down her long legs to her sandal-clad feet. She felt his gaze as if he touched her. Again that curious warmth permeated her body and made her breathless. She felt the tingling awareness of her body for his.

  'Prompt, I see,' was all he said, though from the light in his eye Katie thought he wanted to say more.

  'I try to be,' she replied. 'Are you sure you want pizza?' Doubts surfaced again. They had never had a casual evening at a fast-food place before. It had always been dinner at Pierre's, La Belle Fleur or some other expensive restaurant in Boston. Even if they ate at home, Frances had served.

  'I'm looking forward to it,' he told her.

  Katie was halfway across the lobby when his warm hand grasped her upper arm, bringing her to a halt. Michael stepped before her.

  'Good grief, Katherine, that outfit is positively indecent. The air-conditioning makes your nipples hard and they show right through that top. Every man in the place is staring at you.'

  Katie glanced down, Oops–he was right. But surely not every man was looking at her. Not with all the other women dressed to kill in the hotel. She darted a quick glance around the lobby; no one was even looking their way.

  She shrugged. 'Let them look. It’s really not your business any more, is it?'

  He frowned, not liking her reply.

  'No need to ask how you've been—you look radiant, though not like the sophisticate I knew. You've cut your hair,' he said. Was that his way of trying to start a conversation?

  He reached out as if to touch the soft blonde curls. Katie instantly shied away, not wanting the intimacy that his touch would imply. She peeped up at him; his look was yearning, hungry. Had he actually missed her? Or was she reading something into his look she wished might be there?

  'How have you been, Michael?' Katie felt a tingling at her arm, against the side of her breast where the back of his fingers touched. This was Michael, the husband she was leaving. His touch should have no meaning to her. But she had trouble thinking of anything else. She stepped back to break contact and he released her arm, slowly pulling his fingers free. She felt his warmth long after he no longer touched her.

  'I've been fine.' The words were clipped, the tone brusque.

  She looked closely again. He looked tired and leaner. Working too hard, she surmised.

  'I've missed you.' His voice was strained; his dark eyes never left hers.

  'No, Michael, you haven't,' she said gently. 'You might have missed the wife who did your bidding without complaint, who helped at all your social events. But you couldn't have missed me—you don't even know me.'

  He stared at her for a long moment. 'You may be right that we’re not as close as we could be. I can remedy that. I'll call the office, postpone a few things. We can go on a cruise together, before I have to be back for the Murdock deal, get to know one another again...'

  His voice trailed off as Katie shook her head, slowly but definitely.

  'There you go again, Michael. I don't want to go on a cruise. I want to stay right here. I'm happy here. There's nothing more for us, and you can't keep running my life as if I were some employee of yours. Are you ready to go to dinner?'

  As they walked down the street, twilight began to fall. The store lights illuminated the walkway and one bright star could be seen hanging just above the horizon.

  Michael glanced down at Katie again. 'Have you changed your dressing habits here, or was this for me?'

  He ran his fingers down her back. She felt his touch with a shock. His fingertips were light, leaving a trace of electricity in their wake. She shivered and blushed, darting him a quick glance. She was surprised at his gesture, even more so at her reaction. Seeing the gleam in his eyes as he met hers, she caught her breath. Her heart skipped a beat, then began tripping double time. The trail his fingers left was warm, her skin clamored for further contact. In fact her whole body clamored for contact with his. She had to clear her throat to speak. This was madness. Why had she agreed to this evening?

  'Actually just no bra. It's so hot and humid here, I usually don't wear one...' She trailed off. There was no need to explain to him. She was living her own life now.

  'Are you sure you want pizza?' she asked again. She couldn't imagine Michael dealing with trailing strings of cheese. The wayward blob of marinara sauce, or an errant mushroom. He was always so fastidious. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to suggest Marco's. 'Maybe you'd like to go somewhere else? They have some nice seafood places here.'

  'I assure you, Kathe—er—Katie, that I shan't embarrass you by not knowing how to eat pizza. I do have some social graces.' His tone was dry.

  'Oh, Michael, I never thought you would embarrass me, I only thought it wouldn't be as enjoyable as some other food.' She was surprised that he'd read her mind. 'Pizza is so casual, and we never ate it in Boston.'

  'I didn't know you liked it,' he said.

  'Yes.' What more could she say? It pointed out even further how far apart they were.

  Customers seated themselves at Marco's and Michael waited for Katie to lead the way. She chose a quiet booth at the back. The ones surrounding it were unoccupied, giving them momentary privacy. Katie had feared several of her friends might be at the restaurant, but she saw no one she knew. Unconsciously, she relaxed. She didn't know how she would explain Michael to them. She felt as nervous as a teenager on a first date.

  While they waited for their order, Katie faced him across the table. 'How long are you staying?'

  'That depends on you.'

  'Why come at all? The time for talking is gone.' She put her hands in her lap, gripping them together to hide her nerves.

  'I disagree. Isn’t that why we’re here? Let’s order. What do you like?' he said. They agreed on a combo and Michael went to the counter to order a small pizza. He bought a large pitcher of beer. He did not seem at all out of place in the casual restaurant, Katie thought as she watched him. He always seemed perfectly at home in the most elegant restaurants in Boston; shouldn't he be just a little out of his element here?

  'How did you get your job?' he asked when he sat down and placed the pitcher and mugs on the table.

  Stalling, Katie poured them each a glass full and then set the pitcher down. 'I don't have many marketable skills. A fine art degree doesn’t really prepare anyone for an easy way to make a living. Maid work was all I could find. But I don't plan to keep it forever. Just till I get on my feet and decide what I want to do.'

  'And what might that be?' The muscle in his cheek jerked as he
watched her. She could tell he was still angry. Could she continue?

  'I'd like to do something in business. Maybe open a small shop with island jewelry, shells, driftwood, the kind of things tourists would like.' Her enthusiasm was damped down by his glittering look. She stopped. That was all she’d say. He didn’t have to lecture her on how impractical it might be. Or inquire as to where she would find the start up money, or the knowledge to run a business.

  Their pizza arrived and Katie welcomed the diversion.

  'I want you to come back, Katherine. It's not the same with you gone,' he told her once the waitress had deposited the pizza plates.

  'I'm not coming back.' She took a wedge of pizza, pulling it free from the pie, draping the cheese trailers on top as she put it on her paper plate. He couldn't make her do anything. Not unless he used force–and Michael would never do that.

  'You can't expect me to believe you don't miss what we had in Boston,' he said watching her.

  She stared at him, wondering exactly what he meant. She didn't miss the house, or Frances, or the endless social events for Donovan Construction. But she did miss him. Missed the love they'd shared at first, the laughter, the lovemaking.

  Katie's face grew warm. She could never admit to that. Some day she'd find someone else who could make her feel the way Michael had.

  Maybe.

  His gaze held hers and for one panicked moment she wondered if he'd read her mind. He always had such power to excite her, enthrall her, pleasure her.

  She broke eye contact and reached for her drink. There was more to life than that, and she wanted it—love. She wanted to be first in someone's life. She wanted her opinion sought and listened to. She wanted laughter with shared amusement. Enjoyment in each other’s company–not artificial social gatherings more to move business along than to enjoy friends.

  'Hi, Katie, I thought it was you.' Jim Reed stopped by the table and greeted her with a grin. He was one of her new friends. He was the only one who was passionately driven to get ahead, to make more money, become a business success. He worked at the local bank, was the only native islander of her group of friends, and was dying to move north and make it big. Jim always had his eye on the main chance. In that he was similar to Michael. Well, maybe without quite the drive Michael had.