Summer Vows

by Rochelle Alers

  The driver maneuvered into a circular drive, got out and opened the rear door. Henri alighted first, then Ana, and finally Jacob. Flanked by the two men, she walked to the entrance with automatic sliding doors. The lobby was an indoor oasis with potted palms, trees and baskets of hanging orchids and other exotic flowers growing in wild abandon. A waterfall took up an entire wall, the sound of water flowing over rocks and into a large pool with schools of colorful fish was visually hypnotic.

  The colors of white and sea-foam green predominated, contrasting with white wicker sofas, love seats, chairs with seat cushions and accent pillows in the calming green hue. A white concert piano was positioned nearby in an area with a built-in bar and a dozen small round tables with pull-up chairs.

  A pale, middle-aged man wearing crisp white slacks and a green floral shirt with large white leaves came over to greet them. The green was the same shade as the seat cushions. Ana bit back a smile. There was no doubt Jacob would feel quite at home at the resort with his colorful print shirts.

  He inclined his head. “Good evening. I’m Shanley Osgood, resident manager of Cannamore,” he announced in a clipped British accent. He extended his hand to Jacob. “Welcome, Mr. Jones. Mr. Cole-Thomas told me you were coming with your wife.” He smiled at Ana. “Welcome, Mrs. Jones.” He then nodded to Henri. “Sir.”

  Henri inclined his shaved head. “Shanley.”

  “I’ve taken the liberty of giving Mr. and Mrs. Jones the guest cottage near the garden. Will you need assistance bringing in their luggage?” he asked Henri.

  “I believe your driver and I can manage,” Henri replied.

  Shanley ran a hand over his neatly brushed salt-and-pepper hair, then pinched the bridge of his nose. “I know you want to settle into your rooms, but I had the chef prepare a little repast just in case you wanted something to eat. The kitchen staff is available around the clock, so if you want or need anything just pick up the phone and dial the operator.”

  Jacob curved an arm around Ana’s waist. “My wife and I are looking forward to some rest and relaxation.”

  “This is what Cannamore is known for,” Shanley said with a practiced smile. “We do have a number of amenities you may take advantage of. There’s a golf course and several boats available if you wish to go sailing. And of course there is gear if you wish to go snorkeling or scuba diving. Most of our guests request anonymity, and every staff member adheres to that rule.”

  Ana and Jacob shared a smile. “Thank you, Mr. Osgood.”

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Jones. If you’re ready I’ll show you to your cottage.”

  She held on to Jacob’s hand as they followed the manager outside of the main house and along a lighted path to the cottage partially concealed behind an outcropping of trees. The fragrant smell of flowers and ripening fruit mingling with salt water wafted in the night air.

  Shanley handed Jacob two card keys. “Our housekeeping staff will not enter your bungalow if your doors are locked. If you need housekeeping you may leave it unlocked or hang the placard on the handle outside the door.” He affected a slight bow. “Again I welcome you to Cannamore Cay.”

  Waiting until the manager retreated the way they’d come, Jacob swept Ana up in his arms. “Well, Mrs. Jones. Are you ready to be carried over the threshold?”

  Her arms went around his neck. “I didn’t know you were so traditional, Mr. Jones,” she crooned.

  Smiling, Jacob kissed her nose. “You just don’t know the half, m’ija.”

  Holding her effortlessly in his arms, he inserted the card key into the slot, waiting until the light glowed green, then shouldered the door open. Overhead lighting in the entryway glowed automatically. Slowly lowering Ana to stand, they walked into a living/dining room. Here sea-foam green was the dominant color with contrasting white accents. A sitting area with a sofa, love seats and chairs with footstools were positioned in front of a wall of glass that looked out on to the ocean. A flat screen and audio components sat on a mahogany credenza doubling as an entertainment unit. Large blocks of slate that made up the flooring were covered by area rugs woven in patterns to conform to the tropical setting.

  Ana walked ahead of him, turning to her right and entering a fully functional, modern, state-of-the-art eat-in kitchen. She read the placard on the granite countertop: This is an ecofriendly island. Please conserve water and recycle. She opened and closed cabinets and closets. There were dishes, glassware, flatware and a stackable washer/dryer.

  “Jacob, come and look at this.” When he joined her in kitchen she stood to one side while he peered into the fully stock refrigerator.

  He chuckled softly. “I think this is more than a little repast.” The tray on the lower shelf was filled with sliced pineapple, mango, strawberries and cheese, a tin of caviar and several bottles of champagne. “Very nice. We’re going to have to do a little celebrating before going to bed.”

  Ana closed the door to the refrigerator. “What are we celebrating?”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. “Our marriage, of course. You are Mrs. Jones, aren’t you?”

  “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

  Jacob took a step until they were less than a foot apart. “I’m not complaining. We are on vacation. Or should I say our honeymoon?”

  Ana stopped herself before she told Jacob that he, and not she, was on vacation. If she hadn’t had to flee the country she would’ve been joining her friends when they sailed to Puerto Rico. “You’re right. We are on vacation, so let’s make the best of it.”

  He noticed she’d chosen to ignore his reference to honeymoon. “That’s my girl.”

  “I’m going outside to look around.”

  “Don’t go too far,” Jacob warned at the same time a bell echoed throughout the cottage. “That must be our luggage.”

  It was only when Ana opened the French door to step outside that she realized that while she could see out the wall of glass she wasn’t able to see in from the exterior, which eliminated the need for drapes, shades or shutters.

  Strategically placed floodlights and solar lights lit up the path leading to the garden, while a full moon silvered the landscape. Sitting on a stone bench, Ana stared down into a man-made waterfall surrounded by palms and broad banana leaves. The sound of the incoming surf washing up on the beach, the incessant chirping of insects and an occasional croak from a frog had become a nocturnal symphony.

  The peace that had evaded her for days, hours and minutes swept over her as she sat motionless, eyes closed, and inhaled all that was Cannamore Cay. Here she didn’t have to hide under wigs and behind sunglasses. She didn’t have to constantly glance around her to see who was watching her, while silently praying she wouldn’t be recognized.

  Ana inhaled a lungful of air, held it, and then let it out slowly and opened her eyes. She’d escaped death, been given a second chance to live, dream and maybe even fall in love where she would have her own happily ever after. The thumb of her right hand touched the ring. She’d never envied her older brother and sister, believing they’d chosen to alter their lives and lifestyles when both had fallen in love and married.

  Gabriel had left Florida to live in Massachusetts, unaware he would fall in love with a woman who had been living a double life. Summer Montgomery had come to the high school where Gabriel was an artist-in-residence to teach musical theater, and as an undercover DEA agent to identify those responsible for selling drugs to students. Summer didn’t vacillate, giving up her gun and shield once Gabriel proposed. She’d traded the excitement of undercover assignments for marriage and motherhood. They were now the parents of two sons and a daughter—all under the age of five.

  Even her sister had settled into marriage and motherhood with the ease of a duckling taking to water. Alexandra had thrown all of her energies into caring for her daughter and son, decorating her home, while waiting for Merrick to come home where they’d share dinner as a family unit. Her brother and sister had what she wanted: to fall in love, marry, have children,
while living her own happily ever after.

  Meanwhile Diego had forced her into a marriage of convenience with a man who’d admitted he hadn’t married because he hadn’t met the woman with whom he wanted to share his life. When Henri had given him the envelope with their license Jacob had shown no visible reaction, leading her to believe he probably had known about the subterfuge.

  It had taken an attempt on her life and exile for her to reassess her priorities. In less than two years she would celebrate her thirty-fifth birthday, putting her into the high-risk pregnancy category. And she wanted at least one child before forty, but that wasn’t going to happen, unless she opted for adoption, if she continued to eschew a relationship and commitment. Ana knew her reluctance was based on the two men with whom she’d loved unconditionally.

  There were things she was willing to ignore or dismiss but infidelity was not one of them. Perhaps it had something to do with her grandfather cheating on her grandmother. The one time she’d asked her grandfather why her father’s brother’s surname wasn’t Cole, Samuel Cole had been forthcoming when he told her that sleeping with his secretary had been his greatest indiscretion because it had almost destroyed his marriage. It had also caused a rift between his children for three decades. In a moment of humility Samuel admitted he had grown to love Joshua Kirkland as much as he had his other two sons and daughters.

  “Men hit on you because they want something from you.” Jacob’s words came back in vivid clarity. Why, she’d asked him. Was there something about her that made her a target for cheaters and users? Why, she mused, couldn’t they be like Jacob? He claimed he didn’t want anything from her except her heart. Had it been that way with him and other women? Could she offer him her heart and in return learn to trust again?

  Trust. The five-letter word that was the foundation of any marriage or relationship. Her mother had told her without trust there couldn’t be love.

  She trusted Jacob when he’d said he would protect her, but could she trust him with her heart? Ana wasn’t blind to his attraction for her, nor could she deny her growing feelings for him. She wasn’t certain when her feelings had changed but she was tired of denying the sexual tension that was so apparent whenever they occupied the same space.

  She hadn’t meant to tease him when walking around in her underwear. After all, had they not beforehand established there would be no intimacy between them? That they would live together as friends or roommates until it was safe for her to return home?

  But along the way something had changed. The occasional caresses and kisses had become more frequent, the stares between them longer and more longing. Now that they were a married couple, in name only, it made Ana wonder what it would be like if she were truly Mrs. Jacob Jones. Would she relocate from Boca Raton to Miami, or would Jacob be willing to move to Boca Raton? Would he want to start a family right away or defer to her decision to wait a couple of years? “Would he” and “what ifs” rushed over themselves in her head until she wanted to cry aloud, telling them to go away and leave her alone.

  To even think about a real marriage meant she not only had to trust the man, but also be in love with him. Jacob had garnered her trust, but she doubted whether she would or could fall in love with him.

  Ana was uncertain how long Diego wanted them to remain at Cannamore to measure quality review, but she intended to take full advantage of the island’s natural beauty. She saw a shadow, and turning, she saw Jacob coming in her direction with a bottle of champagne in one hand and two flutes in the other. Shifting on the bench she gave him enough space to sit beside her. Her gaze was fixed on Jacob’s hands when he removed the cork with a minimum of effort, half filled both glasses with the chilled pale bubbly wine, and handed her a flute.

  “What are we toasting?” Ana asked when Jacob held his flute aloft.

  “Me and Mrs. Jones. We got a thing going on,” he sang in his rich baritone.

  Ana’s laughter was like the tingling of a delicate bell. “We both know it’s wrong,” she continued, singing the classic Billy Paul hit. They touched flutes, staring at each other over the rim in the silvered moonlight as they took a deep swallow of the premium wine. “You know that’s a song about an extramarital affair.”

  Reaching for the bottle, Jacob refilled their glasses. “It doesn’t apply to us because I will never cheat on you. However, for the present time we are Mr. and Mrs. Jones.” His teeth shone whitely in his bearded face when he flashed a Cheshire cat grin.

  “You’re enjoying this faux marriage, aren’t you?”

  “I’d be a fool not to, m’ija. Where else would I get the opportunity to flaunt my beautiful wife? We’re on a private island that is as close to paradise as we’ll ever get with nothing more to do than have fun while we rate the quality of services.”

  Folding her legs under her body, Ana leaned against Jacob. “How long do you think that’s going to take?”

  “Probably a couple of weeks. You do your evaluation and I’ll do mine, and then we’ll compare notes.”

  “When do you want to make the comparisons?”

  “Just before we’re ready to leave.”

  Jacob couldn’t tell Ana that if it took two weeks or two months to draw Basil Irvine out into the net the investigators had cast for him she would have to remain in the Bahamas; when it came time for him to return to his job he would be forced to leave her.

  Once they’d arrived in Miami Ana had waited in the car with Henri while he’d entered his apartment to lock up his firearm, retrieve his passport and netbook. Instead of his cell phone, he intended to use email to communicate with Diego. He also packed another bag with the computer and several more changes of clothes that included dress slacks, shirts, a couple of lightweight jackets and dress shoes. Having two residences meant storing clothes in both places.

  “What do you want to do tomorrow?” Jacob asked Ana when she smothered a yawn behind her hand.

  “I don’t want to do anything for a couple of days but lie on the beach.” She yawned again. “Excuse me for yawning. Champagne always makes me drowsy.”

  He ruffled her hair. “That’s all right.” Jacob took a quick glance at the glowing numbers on his watch. It was after two in the morning. He took the flute from her hand. “Go on, m’ija. I’m going to sit out here for a while.”

  Ana lowered her legs, leaned over and touched her mouth to his. “Bueñas noches.”

  He smiled. “Bueñas noches, mi amor.”

  Jacob’s “good night, my love” lingered with Ana long after she’d brushed her teeth, pulled a nightgown over her head and slipped into the four-poster California king-bed swathed in mosquito netting.

  Her eyes had closed and her breathing deepened by the time her husband had gotten into bed with her. Unconsciously, she moved closer to him, sharing his body heat, pressing her hips to his groin. She moaned once when Jacob’s arm rested on her waist, then Morpheus claimed her mind and body.

  Streaks of light had pierced the night sky, heralding the beginning of a new day when Ana woke to find Jacob’s erection against her hips. She knew he was asleep because of the soft snoring. Her heart stopped, then started up again when the area between her legs became moist, throbbing with a rising desire that eddied throughout her body. It was impossible to slow down the runaway beating of her heart, and she loathed moving only because she didn’t want to wake him.

  Each time he touched her, a delicious shudder had rippled throughout her body, bringing with it a welling desire to surrender to his subtle seduction. It had taken strength Ana hadn’t known she had to demonstrate how much his presence hadn’t affected her. This sexy, virile man, her so-called husband had her trembling like a frightened virgin about to embark on her first sexual encounter.

  “Are you cold?” Jacob’s voice sounded disembodied, as if it had come a long way off instead of a hair’s breath away.

  “No.”

  “Why then are you shaking?”

  Ana swallowed to relieve the lump in her throat. W
hat did he expect her to say? That she was so aroused that she feared climaxing? That she wanted him to make love to her and assuage the desire sweeping over her like a wildfire? The questions bombarded her as she tried forming a response, one that wouldn’t embarrass her even further.

  “I’m having a moment,” she whispered.

  Jacob rested an arm over Ana’s waist, pulling her even closer. “What kind of moment?”

  “The same moment you’re experiencing right now.”

  A pregnant pause filled the room. “Oh, no,” he crooned.

  Ana smiled. “Sí, m’ijo.” Without warning, she found herself on her back and Jacob looming over her. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he covered her body with his.

  “Don’t move, baby.”

  She wanted to tell Jacob it was impossible not to move—especially with his hardness on her belly. “Why are you torturing me?”

  “And you don’t torture me?” he countered.

  “Not deliberately.”

  “Deliberate or not, you do. If it’s not in revealing underwear, then it’s a pair of shorts that show more than they cover.”

  “I promise not to walk around in my underwear again if you promise not to barge into my shower.”

  Jacob buried his face between her chin and shoulder. “I can’t promise you that.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Because one of these days before we leave here I am going to make love to you in this bed, on the beach, in the ocean and in the shower. And that’s a promise.”

  There came another moment of silence. “You sound very confident.”

  “That’s because I am, m’ija.” He rolled off her body and lay beside Ana. Reaching for her hand, Jacob held it gently, protectively.

  They lay together, only the sound of their measured breathing punctuating the peaceful silence. The day of reckoning had come. Ana knew she and Jacob would make love. When, was the question. What she didn’t delude herself into believing was their lovemaking would have anything to do with love. It was about sex.