Destination Romance

by Barbara McMahon

  Mary-Kate drank in the fragrance of the sweet ginger, tears stinging her eyes. It reminded her of the fragrance that had wafted in her room on Manahakaloi.

  "Thank you. I've never had one before." She touched the soft petals of the fragile plant, afraid to look at Dane.

  His fingers reached beneath her chin, tilting her head then he leaned over and kissed her.

  Mary-Kate pulled back. "I have to go. Thanks for seeing me to the airport."

  She opened the door and climbed out reaching in back for her bag. Without a look behind her, she walked to the terminal, head held high, her steps firm and determined.

  The airport was different from others she had been in. For one thing, there were few walls. The soft, warm breeze flowed through the building, caressing her skin, soothing her as she walked along to her gate. All trace of the storm gone. The sky was cloudless, the temperature warming fast. She would miss the soft, scented air of the islands. She refused to look behind her, refused to even think, lest everything be lost and she give way.

  She passed through security, close to her gate now. In only a few more minutes they'd call her flight and she would be on her way back to Iowa. Her island paradise left behind. Her dream vacation in tatters.

  The gate was enclosed by thick glass, to keep the noise of the engines from deafening the few passengers who waited. She stood beside one of the large glass windows, the sight of airplanes landing and departing blurred by the tears that filled her eyes. Thankful for the dark glasses, she stood stock still as she watched the activity on the runways. One tear trembled down, slipped beneath the glasses and trailed down her cheek.

  A warm finger brushed it away.

  "I hope the tears are for us," Dane said softly.

  Mary-Kate turned around in surprise.

  He reached out and removed her glasses, staring down into her shimmery eyes.

  "You can't have love without trust," Dane's voice murmured in her ear. She tried to see him clearly through the tears. "So I'm going to trust my instincts this time, and put trust where I thought I never would again. Mary-Kate, don't leave. Stay with me."

  "What?"

  "Stay with me. Don't go back to Iowa; come with me to Manahakaloi. Stay with me two weeks, or two years, or two lifetimes!" His hands held her arms, massaging the soft flesh, and his eyes stared intensely into hers.

  "I don't understand."

  "I love you, Mary-Kate. I'm hoping one day you could grow to love me."

  She shook her head. "Not possible--"

  His face fell, but still he held on to her as if he couldn't let go. "I thought--"

  "I couldn't grow to love you, Dane. I already do."

  His eyes lightened to silver, as his lips began to smile. "I ought to wring your neck. I almost died then."

  "I almost died leaving," she said, moving closer, putting her arms around him and tilting her head back to see him, blinking to clear the tears.

  “Are you sure?" she asked, afraid of the answer, afraid the moment would vanish and she would be alone waiting for her plane.

  He stared down into the eyes so full of love for him. He moved to claim her as he drew her tight against his hard body, crushing the lei, its fragrance enveloping them. Mary-Kate relaxed against him, giving herself up to the pleasure his touch always brought.

  "Two weeks?" she murmured provocatively against his mouth.

  He pulled back marginally, slanting a disturbing glance down at her.

  "Actually, I really want the two lifetimes—yours and mine. Will you marry me, Mary-Kate?"

  She was shocked; from thinking she would never see him again to a proposal of marriage in only three minutes was astonishing, startling and wonderful. Nodding her head, she reached up to kiss him again.

  "Then maybe we don't need to stay here?" He glanced around at the interested gazes of the other passengers.

  Mary-Kate looked around seeing the smiling faces watching them.

  "Let's go," she said, taking back the sunglasses and putting them firmly in place.

  Reaching the car, she slid over to the middle of the seat, right up against him. As he drove back toward the town, he kissed her wrist and held her hand against his leg. Mary-Kate had trouble breathing, trouble even believing they were together; was she still at the hotel, dreaming? It seemed real, but she still wanted some things cleared up.

  "Why did you change your mind? I thought you felt I wouldn't like a life on the island."

  "I thought all schoolteachers wouldn't stay. I've had three different ones, all ending up the same way. My experience among other women isn't too promising, either. Look at my mother."

  "But..."

  "But you were different. I really thought at first that you'd deliberately arranged to be left behind and I was determined to push you away. Once I accepted you'd been left behind through no fault of your own, I convinced myself you were like the other schoolteachers: only wanting a free meal ticket, and a chance at a glamorous life-style."

  "And what finally showed you I loved you?"

  "Nothing. I was taking a risk when I confessed back there. I had no indication that you felt like that about me. But when I saw you walking away, walking out of my life, I knew I couldn't let you go. I had to try to get you to stay, to risk your throwing my declaration back in my face. I knew you weren't indifferent to me, from the way you responded every time I touched you."

  Mary-Kate shifted self-consciously on the seat. "I can't help that. I seem to lose control when you touch me."

  "I'm not complaining, sweetheart—far from that. But I thought it was just a physical reaction. And that led me to hope you could love me in time. All I wanted was time."

  "And I fell in love with you from the first. I thought you looked like a pirate. Then though you suspected it was some ploy, you opened your house to me. We'd get along, and then I'd say something that would make you angry and you'd back away. It was awful. I only wanted you to like me."

  "And every time you made a comment on boredom, or lack of something to do, I'd hear echoes of my mother, or Melissa, or one of the school teachers, and it reinforced my opinion of women. Your comments about Lisa and Joyce made me think, though. As did a lot of your comments."

  "What if you hadn't found my hotel? What if I'd left?" Mary-Kate said in a scared voice. It seemed such a close call.

  "Well, then I would have flown to Ames, Iowa, and gone to every school in town until I found you. This saved time, but the outcome would have been the same. How soon do you want to get married?"

  "As soon as you like. But I want my family there."

  "Of course you do. I want my father and brother. We'll call them all and see how soon they can meet us here. In the meantime I need to get back to the island, and make sure everything is back in order. We didn't have time for much damage assessment before I left. We'll get back to work there, and fly back here when everyone else arrives. How's that?"

  "I'm to go with you," she said, wanting it perfectly clear.

  "Absolutely, darling; I'm not deserting you on another island—no telling who you might meet up with!"

  Mary-Kate laughed softly at his teasing, resting her head on his shoulder. Happiness blossomed within her. She had her pirate, and he was taking her to his island paradise.

  -The End-

  Come Into The Sun

  By

  Barbara McMahon

  © Copyright 2012

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Alexis Kent sat on the cord-bound box at the edge of the long weathered pier, near the ramp leading to t
he sloop, her old surplus army duffel bag bulging beside her. Her denim tote rested on the pier near her small box. The sun was high in the West Indies sky; the air still; and the creaking of mooring lines, and the murmur of the small wavelets slapping against the planking of a dozen boats, a mellow background for the crying sea-gulls circling lazily in the sky. In the distance, on the commercial dock, old men were repairing their fishing nets, sitting unconcerned with the burning rays of the hot sun.

  She shifted her position a little. Not fidgeting, outwardly serene and patient, only moving to gain a new view. Waiting beside the large sloop mentioned in the advertisement, she could see the entire ship. The dark-blue hull of the ocean-going vessel gleamed brightly in the harsh sunlight, freshly cleaned and shining. The low cabin amidships shown a bright white. The porthole windows sparkled. All gear was stowed away; the teak deck carried no clutter. The jib sail was folded tidily by the bow rail, the mainsail tucked neatly in its cover along the center boom.

  A wander-class sloop, almost forty feet at a guess. Lexy had studied it earlier, the narrow deck surrounding the cabin, the cut-out well in the stern at the wheel, enabling the skipper to stand or sit while at the helm. She had not boarded the boat, so did not know the cabin configuration. There would be the basics, she was sure; galley, head, sofa converting to bunks, perhaps a forward cabin with bunks. She shrugged—she’d find that out soon enough if she got the job.

  She’d been sitting for over an hour. She’d called out upon arriving beside the sloop but received no answer. She’d plopped down to await the owner's return--still holding the paper in hand. She clutched it for reference, for introduction, and as a talisman. She really wanted this job.

  It was hot and she grew thirsty in the unrelenting sun. How much longer?

  Vaguely, her gaze touched on the old men working, talking among themselves; moving to watch the gulls, their circling flights, their dives. Some birds bobbed placidly on the water, resting. Was it cooler for them? She wished she could cool off in the water, not here in the harbor, but on a nice beach somewhere.

  Her gaze moved to shore, diverted by the arrival of a taxi. A tall man climbed out of the cab, paid the fare, and started down the pier. She watched as he approached. Maybe he was the man she was awaiting. He was six feet tall at an estimate and solidly built. Dark brown hair, worn rather long, brushed the collar of his shirt and as he drew closer she saw his hair was flecked with gray. His eyes were a startling blue in the mahogany of his face, matching the knit shirt he wore. A square jaw and firm lips gave evidence of a determined, yet controlled individual.

  As he drew closer, Lexy stood up, drawing his eyes, forcing him to really notice her for the first time. A small zephyr of air skipped by, cooling her a moment, before the hot glare of the sun resumed its boiling effect. He drew even with her and the ramp to the ocean-going sailboat.

  'Mr. Frazer?' She did not quite reach his shoulder.

  'Yes?' His glance was cool, registering, she knew, a small, thin woman. Her mop of short light brown hair was liberally streaked with blonde by the sun, her skin a deep honey gold, evidence of many hours in the open. She wore khakis and a sleeveless white T-shirt, her concession to appropriate attire for an interview for a job on a sailing ship. Tennis shoes clad her feet. She saw him flick a glance at the denim bag, which hung from her shoulder, and the old army surplus duffel at her feet. She met his gaze candidly.

  'I'm Alexis Kent, Mr. Frazer. I've come about the crewman's job. Has it been filled?' She offered the square piece of paper she had pulled from the hotel board advertising the position of general crewman for an oceangoing sailing-sloop, Jack-of-all-work, experience required, apply at the Marybeth, Santa Inez Harbor.

  He raised an eyebrow and glanced at the paper. 'The job hasn’t been filled, but you won't do.' He passed her and lithely crossed the short ramp to the boat, landing on the deck as softly and sure-footed as a cat.

  She turned and watched him a moment, raising her voice slightly. 'I'm experienced Mr. Frazer. And . . . and I'm very strong.'

  Maybe it was her size that was off-putting, she thought hopefully. Fully aware, however, that it was her gender more than anything that kept her from the job; from even being considered for this job.

  He turned at her voice as if surprised she was still there. At her assertion she was very strong a hint of amusement crept into his eyes, though his face remained sober. 'I'm sure you are, Miss . . . er. . . Kent, was it? I must confess, I thought I'd have better response to the ad. I posted it several days ago and you're the only applicant thus far. But you still won't do.'

  She stared at him, trying to come up with something that might change his opinion, to give her a chance.

  He remained watching her with a steadfast gaze that was disconcerting.

  She sighed slightly in defeat and reached for her duffel bag and box. 'I'm at the Markly if..’ If what? If he should change his mind? 'If you can't get anyone else.'

  The Markly was a hangout for sailors, fishermen and cargo handlers on Santa Inez Island. A wild bunch on Saturday nights, and not much better the rest of the time. The hotel was close to the docks, though, and clean and cheap, it had been on an announcement board that Lexy had seen the posted ad for the job. Posted several days ago, as he had said. She took some satisfaction in knowing she was the only applicant thus far.

  Not that it would do any good if he wouldn’t seriously consider her for the job. She shook her head as she walked back up the pier. It wasn't fair, just because she was a woman. She paused at the street and glanced back. Dominic Frazer had turned and was gazing out to sea, not giving her another thought. With a regretful sigh, she continued her way back towards the hotel.

  Idiot, she thought angrily as the duffel bag banged rhythmically against her leg. I should not have counted on the job, just because I have experience. How silly he must think me to show up all packed and ready to go. It was stupid. I should have first made sure I obtained the position, then packed up. Blast the man anyway for not even giving me a token interview.

  She stopped and let her duffel and box down slowly. Flexing her fingers to ease the strain, she picked them up changing hands this time, and continued.

  It was hot. Perspiration trickled down her back and between her breasts. The way back to the hotel seemed longer and harder than the walk to the marina.

  She was most anxious to leave Santa Inez, escape as she put it, to get as far away from the uncomfortable situation with the Culvers as she could. To get away and start anew where no one knew her or anything about her or her past life. Where people would believe whatever she had to tell them, not be prejudiced by past events, not be influenced by rumors and gossip and unfounded allegations. Especially about something that had happened so long ago. She had so been looking forward to this position.

  Something else would turn up. She just needed to be alert to opportunities and be ready to act when they arose.

  Two days later, late in the afternoon, Lexy Kent wandered into the bar at the Markly Hotel, discouraged and hot, grateful to lean her arms against the cool polished wood of the bar. The room was dim, shaded and sheltered from the intense heat, a slow-moving ceiling fan swirling the air a little. Not really cool, but at least giving the impression of coolness--a welcomed relief from the broiling afternoon sun.

  'Hi, Dick,' she said, greeting the man behind the bar. 'I'll have a large lemonade, plenty of ice, please.'

  The dark old man behind the counter smiled sympathetically, his white teeth flashing in the faint light. 'Bad day, Lexy?' he asked as he filled her glass.

  'You said it. I can't find a job anywhere! I shouldn't have left my other one until I had something else lined up. Ummm, that's great.' She tilted her head and drank deeply from the lemonade-filled glass.

  'Gentleman over there asking for you,' Dick said in a low voice, nodding across the room towards a table on the far side. Lexy Kent turned slowly, her face apprehensive. It cleared at once seeing Dominic Frazer tilted back in a chair, a tal
l lager on the table before him. He watched her.

  She took her glass and walked calmly over, her face smiling politely. 'Mr. Frazer. Dick said you were asking for me. May I?' She pulled out a chair and waited.

  Dominic Frazer banged down his chair on all four legs and nodded. Lexy sat and waited—it was only a moment before he spoke, yet the time dragged by. Lexy was conscious of his appraising regard, his cool, blue eyes. She was curious as to why he was here, but tried not to show it. Calmly she met his gaze and waited for him to begin. He had asked for her after all, not the other way around, so he could begin the conversation.

  'Are you still interested in the position on my boat?' he asked at last.

  Her face lit up, but her reply was a rather guarded, 'I am.'

  'I seem to be having trouble attracting applicants. I want to sail soon and need a second person. The sloop has been moored here on the island for the last six months. Now I'm ready to take off. My problem is my brother’s always crewed for me in the past, but he was married recently and is now working in Barbados.' Dominic Frazer shook his head impatiently. 'If I had had any idea of how difficult it would prove to hire someone here, I would have filled the position when I was in Bridgetown. Tell me, Miss Kent, why do you want the job?'

  'I rather need it,' she began slowly, choosing her words carefully. 'I came here in the employ of ... of someone, and when my services were no longer required, naturally I began looking for another job. I thought I’d like something I had done before. I have been most recently working as a cook, but didn’t like it as much as I thought I would. I like being outdoors, not stuck in a hot kitchen all the time. I’ve sailed extensively on several different kinds of boats. There aren't many jobs going right now, yours looked suitable.' She turned her glass absently on the table before her, watching her fingers tracing patterns in the condensation. 'I’m ready to leave Santa Inez, too,' she added, shrugging off that reason.

  He raised his eyebrows at this, but asked no questions. 'So you can cook?' he asked.