by Julie Kenner
“You make me feel wonderful,” she whispered.
“You are wonderful,” he said, pulling her close as sleep urged him back into the darkness.
* * *
SHE AWOKE ALONE.
From behind a curtain of sleep, she stretched her arm out, seeking his heat, and finding instead only a cold indentation on the sheet.
With a start, she sat bolt upright, lost and disoriented.
“Michael?”
She glanced around the room, listening, but heard no sign of him. Wrapping the sheet around her, she slid out of bed, stepping onto a soggy towel. She stepped over the curious thing, then padded to the door and opened it. She peered outside, hoping to find him walking barefoot on the beach, but already half-expecting that the beach would be silent and empty.
It was. Everything was quiet, her breakfast tray sitting on the table on the porch. She pressed her lips together, tighter and tighter, determined not to cry. Instead, she kicked at the doormat, trying to convert a bone-deep sadness into anger.
No use. And when the mat flew an unsatisfactory few inches, her willpower dissolved and she collapsed onto the porch, pulled her knees up to her chest, and cried.
She wasn’t even sure why she was crying, but she couldn’t stop. Maybe she was crying about her life back in Texas, maybe for what she’d found on this island, but couldn’t hold on to. She didn’t know and she didn’t care.
All she wanted was to purge herself, to get rid of these feelings, and she let the sobs wrack her body. She didn’t even try to hold back, just let the tears come and come until her stomach ached and her eyes burned and she had a nasty case of the hiccups.
They’d shared so much last night, and when she’d fallen asleep in his arms after the second time they made love, she’d foolishly allowed herself to believe that sharing somehow made it real.
But it wasn’t real. She’d known that going in, and she needed to keep repeating it. This was a fantasy, and by definition, a fantasy wasn’t reality.
It wasn’t like she had anything to complain about, anyway. She’d wanted to share a night of passion with Michael, and she’d certainly gotten her money’s worth. She was just being silly and stupid if she’d expected that she’d wake up in his arms and they’d spend the day sightseeing together. That wasn’t the way the world worked.
She should be ecstatic. Already, one portion of her Fantasies, Inc. request had been fulfilled in spades. She could go back to her marriage to Harold knowing that she hadn’t missed out on passion. That she had these memories to sustain her.
Still…just because she could now tick sexual adventure off her list, she hoped that didn’t mean it was all over. She’d sort of planned on a week of passion-filled nights.
But maybe he didn’t feel the same way. After all, he’d left without even saying goodbye.
With a sigh, she stood up and wiped her eyes. Whereas only hours before she’d felt full, now she only felt like a shell of herself.
She wanted to be angry, to cut loose and yell at the top of her lungs, to curse him for leaving her. But she couldn’t. She had no one to blame but herself.
She grabbed the coffeepot. Cold. For some stupid reason, that started the tears coming again. She sank to the ground once more, tears streaming down her face as she gazed out over the calm ocean.
Damn. She really wasn’t cut out for this fantasy stuff.
CHAPTER 7
THE STORM had moved out by dawn, and all the guests seemed to have come out in celebration. By the time Tony had showered and shaved and trekked to the restaurant, all the tables by the pool were full except one. Fortunately, the empty one had an umbrella and a blind side, and he slid into the vacant seat, grateful for the shade and the out-of-the-way location.
Right now, all he wanted to do was sip coffee, let the island’s morning sounds drift over him, and think about Kyra. In his own cabana, he’d iced his back again, trying to repair some of the damage he’d done. He’d fallen asleep and dreamt of her. Now he wanted to sit outdoors and think about her some more. He could still smell her on his skin, still feel her kisses on his lips.
He had nothing at all planned for the day, and he intended to use every lazy hour to repeat—over and over until he was certain he wouldn’t forget even the slightest sigh, the most delicate moan—every moment spent with her last night. He needed those memories to sustain him for the rest of his vacation. Because no matter how much he wanted to feel the press of her body against his again, he’d come to the unwelcome conclusion that a repeat performance would be a mistake. A huge mistake.
If he’d been thinking clearly, he would have known better than to go to her in the first place. But he’d lost his head, had foolishly assumed that staying anonymous would somehow protect him. Now, though…
If he went back, he was sure to lose his heart. And, frankly, he wasn’t sure he could handle that.
She might not know who he was, but he damn sure knew her. Already the thought of walking away at the end of a week made his stomach churn. Better to end it now. A clean break. He’d stay away, she’d never find him, and they’d never have to part. Or, worse, she’d never find out the truth and turn away from him.
It was for the best, and he tossed back a slug of scalding-hot coffee, then closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, determined to focus only on last night…not the lonely nights to come.
“Do you mind sharing?”
Her voice.
When he opened his eyes, there she was, smiling down at him and looking just as beautiful as she had the night before. He tensed, fearing she would recognize him, then exhaled as he remembered he’d shed his disguise. Michael’s green eye and beard were gone. And Tony’s scar was right there for all the world to see.
He turned in his chair, keeping his good side toward her. “I’m sorry,” he said stupidly, realizing he hadn’t processed a word she’d said. “I’m—”
“Tony, right?” She pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m glad I’m not the only one eating breakfast at noon.” She smiled. “I’m Kyra, by the way. We met yesterday.”
“Oh. Yeah. Right.”
“I’m not intruding, am I?”
“No, not at all. Help yourself.”
She filled her cup from the thermos on the table, then unscrewed the lid and looked inside. “Guess I emptied it.” She shrugged, then signaled the waiter to bring coffee. “Thanks for letting me join you. There’s no empty table and, well, you’re the only one I even sort of know.”
“I thought you ate in your cabana.” The second he said the words, he realized his mistake.
Her brow furrowed. “How on earth would you know that?”
He tried to grin, wasn’t quite sure he succeeded. “Stuart,” he lied. “He, uh, said all the women ordered breakfast in. And hardly any of the guys did. So, uh, we figured that illustrated some major difference in the sexes, but we didn’t exactly know what.”
“Oh.” She frowned, pondering the conundrum. “Maybe women like to eat in their underwear more than men do.”
“Maybe so.” He started to reach for her hand, then remembered he wasn’t Michael and pulled it back quickly, grappling for something to say to keep her talking, just so he could keep listening to the sound of her voice. “Looks like you went to the trouble of getting dressed. No breakfast in your underwear.” Mentally, he rolled his eyes. Oh, yeah. That’s great conversation. Not.
She glanced down at her outfit, a flowing sundress and a straw hat. “Well, polite society and all that.”
“So why did you venture out?”
Her cheeks flushed, and she stirred her coffee absently.
“A wild night?” he asked. He knew he was fishing, but he couldn’t help it. If he couldn’t spend the day with her as Michael, at least he could spend a few minutes as Tony over a late breakfast.
Her teeth grazed her lower lip, and he could tell she was trying to decide how much to tell him. After a few seconds, she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling. “A spectacular n
ight.”
She sat back in her chair and spread the napkin in her lap. “They must have delivered the tray to my door at seven as always. But I didn’t even wake up until eleven. When I found the food, it was ice-cold.”
“Sounds like you did have a good time last night.” He kept his face bland even while his purely male ego was busy congratulating itself. “Someone you met at the party?”
“Not exactly.” She waved to a waitress who came over and took her order, then refilled the coffee carafe. “Did you go? C.J. and I were wondering if you were there.”
“You were?” The knowledge that she’d thought about him—about Tony—warmed him. “I…uh…didn’t see you.”
“Oh. Well, I actually didn’t stay very long, so if you came late…” Again, her cheeks turned that adorable shade of pink.
He nodded. “Yeah. I came late.”
“I’m sorry I missed you.”
“Well, you found me now,” he said, as the waitress slipped a huge cinnamon roll in front of her. He caught her gaze and, for a moment, their eyes locked and he thought he saw the tiniest spark of the woman he’d known last night. But she quickly looked down, poking experimentally at her roll with her fork.
“Yes, I did,” she said softly. When she looked up, her smile was warm and friendly.
Amazing.
Or maybe not. His friend Alan had no problem with his scars, but Amy did. Kyra wasn’t looking at him like a freak, but she hadn’t gotten a close look at his face. She also didn’t know she’d slept with him, no matter what he might want to imagine.
They were just sitting and talking like friends. And just because Michael had to give her up as a lover, that didn’t mean Tony couldn’t stick with his original plan and have her as a friend. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but at least he’d be around her. Could look at her, talk to her. True, it was a bit duplicitous, but he firmly quashed a twinge of guilt. The alternative was to walk away entirely, and he didn’t like that option at all.
“Tony?” Her forehead creased, a little vee appearing above her nose.
“Listen,” he said, “I was going to grab a book and spend the day being a beach bum. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in joining me.”
“An entire day being completely lazy?”
“Yup.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
He could hear the hesitation in her voice. “But…?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I cleaned out my savings account for this vacation.”
“I’m not following.”
She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she took a bite from her pastry. He knew she was stalling. He could almost see her thinking, trying to decide how much to tell him.
Finally, she put down her fork. “Did you come here for a fantasy?”
“Isn’t that against the rules? Asking about other guests’ fantasies?”
Her neck flushed, but she held her own, her determined gaze never wavering. “You started it,” she said.
“Fair enough.” He hadn’t planned on the fantasy that had been dropped in his lap, but he certainly couldn’t share that with Kyra. “I guess you could say my fantasy was to escape. One of my buddies decided I needed some downtime, and he packed me off here.”
“Nice friend. This place isn’t cheap. Why’d he think you needed downtime?”
He tensed, then forced himself to relax. Just friends, remember? Summoning all his willpower, he turned his head, then pointed to the scarred flesh that stood out around his left eye.
“Oh.” She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question. I didn’t mean to bring up—” She shook her head. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Really.” Amazingly enough, right then he didn’t give a damn about the scar. He just didn’t want her to feel like a heel.
“Well, you may have come to relax, but I came for a fantasy.” She grazed her teeth over her lower lip, then looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I promise.”
“I came for an adventure.” One shoulder moved in the slightest of shrugs. “There’s a little more to it than that, but you get the gist.”
He stood up, walked around her chair, then ducked down to see under the table. When he lifted his head, she was looking at him with raised eyebrows.
“What on earth are you doing?”
“Checking out your adventure wear. I’m not sure sandals and a sundress are the recommended attire of thrill seekers.”
She laughed, then crumpled her napkin and tossed it at him. “Nut. It just so happens my attire is perfect.”
While he gawked like a twelve-year-old, she undid the top five buttons on the dress’s bodice, pulled it aside, and revealed a navy blue swimsuit.
“Today’s project is scuba diving. And that’s why I can’t be a bum and lie out with you on the beach.”
He sat down again. “That sounds like fun. Where are you going? A reef? A wreck?”
“Not exactly.” She pointed behind them to the lagoon-style main pool. “The pool.”
“Wow,” he deadpanned. “You are a thrill seeker.”
She rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Today is the class and tomorrow is the ocean.” She propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “I’ve got an idea. Instead of hanging on the beach, why don’t you take the class with me?”
* * *
THE SECOND the invitation left her mouth, Kyra realized how much she wanted him to agree. She genuinely liked him, and already he’d filled the little well of loneliness she’d been battling since Michael left.
Tony didn’t look nearly as enamored with the idea. A riot of expressions were splashed across his face—confusion, disbelief, even a hint of nervousness.
She bit back a delighted laugh, unused to men willing to be even the tiniest bit less than one-hundred-percent macho. “Well?” she prodded.
“Scuba diving,” he repeated. “You want me to take scuba lessons with you?”
“It’s not like I’m asking you to walk across hot coals,” she said, teasing him.
“You might as well be.”
With a flash of insight, she realized her mistake. “Oh, I’m sorry. Don’t you swim?” She swept a hand around to encompass the island. “Probably stupid, but I just assumed anyone who came to an island for a vacation swam.”
He nodded. “I swim. And dive. And horseback ride. And ski.”
She imagined that he was extremely good at all those things. The thin T-shirt he wore did nothing to hide the broad expanse of his shoulders and chest, and she’d got a nice glimpse of his well-muscled legs when he’d stood up to tease her about her “adventure wear.” He might be spending his vacation lounging in the shade, but she could tell he’d spent his life doing something a heck of a lot more active. No, it wouldn’t surprise her at all to find out that Tony Moretti was quite the athlete. But none of that explained why he didn’t want to go diving with her. “So you do all that, but you just don’t scuba dive?”
“I dive.” His face tightened, and Kyra thought he looked almost angry. “At least I used to. But I don’t anymore.”
“Why not?” She winced. “Sorry. That’s really none of my business.”
For a moment, his face remained set, distant. She assumed he was silently agreeing, and she mentally kicked herself for being so forward. The man was incredibly easy to talk to, and she’d felt a fast bond, a spark of instantaneous friendship. But that didn’t mean he felt it, too. And it certainly didn’t give her license to pry.
“Listen,” she said, trying to get back onto neutral ground. “I should probably get going. Maybe we can hook up—”
“This,” he said, pointing to his eye.
She squinted, trying to follow, but unable to keep up. “Pardon?”
“An accident. I was a firefighter until I got this, and it messed up my back pretty bad, too.”
“Thus the need for some R and R.” She’d really stepped in it this time. “Look, ple
ase forgive me. I spoke without thinking. I didn’t mean to open up old wounds.”
He reached over the table and took her hand briefly, then pulled away quickly, almost as if he’d been burned. The shock of his fingers against her skin left her hand tingling and the rest of her slightly sad. It was an odd sensation, and not one she was sure she should examine too closely. After all, he was just being polite. Nice men didn’t go around touching women they hardly knew.
And nice women didn’t feel all tingly from the touch of an island acquaintance.
True enough. Her senses were probably just on hyperdrive. Still, an odd sense of loss washed over her, and she was sorry he hadn’t held on. Foolish, but somehow it seemed she knew him better than as a casual acquaintance, and she wished she could offer some real comfort for what was apparently a huge tragedy in his life. Instead, she could only say, “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “No, I am. I don’t mean to dredge up all this stuff. But with the back…” He shrugged, then grinned. “I’d love to join you in P.E., but I’ve got a note from my mommy.”
She laughed. “Are you sure? I always thought water stuff wasn’t hard on folks with bad backs. We could ask the teacher.”
His gaze drifted toward the far side of the pool where Stuart and a taller man were starting to line up the tanks and other necessary equipment.
“It could be fun,” she prodded. “And I’d really love to have you with me.”
“I’ll watch from here.”
She nodded, more disappointed than she should be, but didn’t argue. “Maybe we can go hang out on the beach after.”
“I’d like that,” he said.
They chatted amiably for the next half hour about nothing, and when Stuart waved her over, Kyra realized she wasn’t particularly interested in a scuba class—she just wanted to sit with Tony, chatting and laughing. She was perfectly comfortable with him, and the realization that she had a new friend brightened her day considerably.
“Kyra! Come on!”
She waved at Stuart, then smiled apologetically at Tony. “That’s my cue.”
“So it is.”