Some Time Away (Lovers in Time Series, Book 3): Time Travel Romance

by Marilyn Campbell

  "Hi—" That was all she got out before he gestured for her not to talk for a second but come closer. She walked over to the dining room table, which he had apparently chosen over working at the smaller, more formal desk. He was reading something on his laptop screen, papers were spewing out of the printer and books, magazines and printouts of articles covered every inch of the table. He clicked one more key on his laptop and turned to her with a delighted expression.

  Without a word he shifted his chair, pulled her onto his lap and gave her a full-mouth, tongue-twisting kiss that silenced the worries Lillian Davenport had put in her head.

  "I take it you've had a good time while I was out taking care of annoying paperwork," she said teasingly.

  Rather than respond, he nuzzled her neck while dragging one of her sundress straps off her shoulder.

  Ribbons of pleasure unfurled from each spot he touched. "Uh, I'm a little confused. Am I still under orders to keep you focused on work or—"

  "I missed you," he stated then engaged her in another deep kiss. However, a few heartbeats later he leaned back and took a deep breath. "But you're right. We have a lot of work to do." He slowly removed his hands from her. "So, are you all mine for the rest of the day?"

  How about for the rest of my life? "Yep. And I can't wait to find out what you learned while I was gone." She made herself rise and move to the chair across the wide table from him. "Do you want to fill me in or give me a task?"

  "Task first. I found something interesting on-line before you distracted me," he admitted with a grin. "I'd like to see if I can find anything about it in your hotel's history book before catching you up." He showed her how to download the morning's recording and perform edits, then turned his attention to the book.

  The next several hours passed in relative silence, other than Maggie's typing and Noah's scribbling on Post-It notes and sticking them to various pages.

  When Noah noticed that Maggie had stopped typing, he set aside the book and asked, "Hungry yet?"

  "Surprisingly, yes. But if you want to keep working I'd be good with room service."

  "Actually, I already made other arrangements. Don't ask. It's a surprise. But there is a dress code—a bathing suit, flip-flops and that robe you had on this morning."

  "Do I have time for a shower?" she asked hopefully.

  His expression went from lustful to pained. "Only if I don't join you. Go on. We have a little time to spare before our reservation."

  A half-hour later she felt refreshed but somewhat self-conscious in the long robe. Until she saw he was attired the same way. She couldn't resist taking a peek to make sure he was also in a bathing suit. "Very nice," she said, noting the fitted black swim shorts.

  With feigned modesty, Noah reclosed his robe. "If you knew what was waiting for us, you wouldn't risk waking the beast."

  "Then tell me," she said, dancing her fingers up his lapel.

  He grasped her hand and interlocked their fingers. "I'm pretty sure this is one of those cases where showing is definitely better than telling."

  From the elevator he guided her to a side exit door that allowed them to avoid the lobby. A few minutes later they were walking toward the ocean on the opposite end of the beach they had explored that morning. She knew when they were nearing their destination by Noah's big smile and expectant look. Just ahead she could see ten colorfully striped tents. They were set up in two staggered rows a little ways back from the high tide line and separated by just enough space to give an impression of privacy.

  As he led her to one on the far end, Noah explained, "I read about these cabanas today and, as luck would have it, there was a cancellation. Robert Davenport had the first tent put up when his hotel was overbooked and made it so unique and luxurious it became a very exclusive opportunity. There's a section in your book about it because a lot of famous people have had affairs in these over the years."

  When he walked her around to the front of the tent, Maggie gasped. The flaps were pulled back to reveal a lavishly decorated interior befitting a sultan. A thick furry carpet cushioned the base. Brightly colored scarves lined the pointed top and back wall and large pillows were scattered around a low table. Interior lighting was provided by a lantern with an adjustable flame and as she took a breath, the seductive scent of freshly cut jasmine filled her nostrils.

  Maggie rushed inside and reclined dramatically on the double-wide lounge. But she was too excited to stay still and was instantly back on her feet with him outside. "Geez, Noah. This might just be the most incredible dining room I've ever seen. Just look at this view." She waved at the ocean as though he might not be seeing everything she was. "And we'll be able to see the full moon rising over the water!" An involuntary shiver made her vigorously rubbed her arms.

  In an instant he was behind her and wrapped his arms protectively around her. "Cold? Or is there another ghost around?"

  She sighed and shook her head. "Neither. I'm just... excited."

  He kissed the side of her neck. "Good. I like you excited." His hands moved up the front of her robe but before he could continue, a bell tinkled behind their tent. Noah drew Maggie inside and said, "Come in." Two young women in purple, flower-patterned saris entered the tent carrying large picnic baskets. Once Noah assured them they would serve themselves, they exited and a man wearing only a loose, short skirt of the same print as the saris entered with a tray holding two crystal glasses and a bottle of the delicious German wine in an ice bucket. Noah nodded for him to uncork the wine but then excused him as well.

  Maggie would have been thrilled with a baloney sandwich in those surroundings, but of course such a travesty would never occur at the Davenport. Their feast began with a cold appetizer stack of crab, avocado and mango and ended with orange crème brûlée and chocolate-dipped raspberries. Neither felt the need to talk as they fully gave themselves over to the sights, smells and tastes of the moment. And with every sip of the wine Maggie pushed Lillian Davenport and her warnings further and further out of her mind.

  * * *

  Lilli waited for Mercy to say good night before she allowed herself to give into the roiling emotions simmering beneath her rigidly controlled image. It was one thing for her assistant to note her concern over a business matter. But she could not let anyone, not even Mercy, know there was a personal matter that could turn her into a simpering girl with the least provocation.

  She pushed that thought aside by focusing on the oldest photographs on the wall—her grandfather breaking ground on the hotel in 1922, him posing with grandmother Patricia and their son Chester, in front of the enormous geode that the Emerald Dome restaurant would later be built around, sitting at a table of guests, that included silent film heartthrob Rudolph Valentino, at the Grand Opening celebration in 1924.

  Robert Davenport always looked so happy. He loved Crystal Island, the hotel and, most especially, his family. There was no reason for him to have taken his own life. And yet that is what the coroner's report had said—self-inflicted bullet to his brain. The newspapers speculated that he was distraught over the Wall Street crash. But that made no sense. From what her father had told her, the hotel was never in serious financial trouble, not even through the depression years when he and Grandma Patricia took over the operation. But without any evidence of foul play, the suicide verdict held and, as far as the family was concerned, it stained the otherwise marvelous history of the Davenport.

  She had been given a chance to clear the stain once, but only succeeded in messing up her own life.

  "Grandpa? Robert? What really happened to you?" She stood very still for a moment, just in case he felt like answering or making an appearance, but nothing supernatural occurred.

  Before closing up for the night, she allowed herself one more look at the little photo that had sent her down memory lane. Had she been paying more attention to the world outside of her office, she may have realized there was a full moon tonight and guarded her emotions more carefully. Ever since that fateful night in 2005,
a full moon was something to be wary of.

  But she hadn't been aware of the moon's phase before Ms. Harrison arrived for their meeting, and now she couldn't stop the flood of need taking over her body and mind. For long spans of time she was able to put memories of Connor to sleep. But when they were awakened, as had happened today, the need to see her love, hear his voice and be touched by him was nearly unbearable.

  From her office she headed for the main kitchen. She and Chef Gerard carried on a long-standing arrangement started by her father thirty-two years ago, after her mother died. Every evening, around the time the organized chaos of preparing dinner for a thousand guests was in full swing, she stopped in to wish the staff a good evening, just to make sure they knew they were appreciated by the owner. The rest of the time, she, like her father, left the management of the kitchen up to Chef and, in turn, he made sure she rarely had a major problem with that area of the business.

  As she did on most days, she gave him her dinner request and assured him there was no rush.

  Also following family tradition, Lilli lived in a suite in the Diamond section of the hotel. Robert's original apartment had been turned into the Diamond Penthouse after her father's death and was rented out for an exorbitant amount of money, but Lilli maintained possession of the less valuable suite on the second floor.

  It was the same apartment she'd moved into after graduating from college, ready to take her place as the Davenport heiress. Like her office, it was free of anything tropical or brightly colored and was minimally furnished. It served her basic needs.

  And provided one secret indulgence.

  She barely had time to shower and get into comfortable clothes before her dinner arrived. She turned on the television and chose something to distract her while she ate. However, despite the entertainment, the excellent meal and a second glass of wine, her thoughts kept wandering back to Connor and what awaited her in the bedroom.

  If anyone really looked through Lilli's living space, they might notice the one uncommon decorating element—not a single mirror was visible. Actually, there were two in the apartment—one in the bathroom concealed in a cabinet over the sink and a full-length one hidden inside a wardrobe on the wall opposite her king-sized bed.

  Even if someone did notice the absence, it might be chalked up to some quirk of Ms. Davenport's personality, like she didn't want to be reminded she was aging. Although there was some truth to that, Lilli took care of hiding her physical maturity by supplementing a good nutrition and fitness program with regular visits to the hotel salon's aesthetician. She wasn't a vain person, just conscious of how important image was. A beautiful, youthful appearance combined with money and power could get a woman almost anything she desired.

  Just not what she desired most.

  The real reason she kept the mirrors concealed was for her own sanity. She didn't know if it was because of the specific suite she inhabited, or whose granddaughter she was, or what had happened with Connor thirteen years ago, but she never knew when a mirror would show her a simple reflection of herself or a vision from the past. Usually it was nothing more than a replay of an insignificant moment that had occurred in that room. A few times, she even heard a snatch of a conversation.

  Regardless, it was always disconcerting. Although she never acknowledged such reports as legitimate, she was aware of that sort of thing occasionally happening in other rooms because a number of guests had filed inquiries or complaints over the years. However, since no one seemed able to force such a vision on cue, those sightings remained with all the other unsolved mysteries of Crystal Island.

  What she had never seen a guest report about was the other thing that happened to her when she looked into one of the mirrors in her suite and touched it while thinking of a person or event from her own past. If it had happened to anyone else, they may have chalked it up to imagination or daydreaming. Or they had kept it secret, just like she did.

  It had been quite a while since Lilli had indulged herself with a trip into the mirror. The temptation to stay in that dimension was too powerful to do it too often. She understood that what she experienced through the mirror had to be all in her mind, but it felt completely real in that moment. And it was the only thing she had to ease the heartache when it overflowed, as it had today.

  Her preparation ritual was simple but it helped her transition from hard-shelled, hotel magnate to the soft, sensual young woman Connor had known and loved. She slipped into the turquoise satin negligee with silver lace insets that she had worn the last night they were together in that room. Then she drew down the bed covers, lit the two candles set inside hurricane glasses on each nightstand and turned out all the lights. Once the stage was set for comfort and romance, she cleared her mind of everything except the face she missed so much it caused her chest to tighten, even after all these years.

  She placed her right hand against the mirrored surface, called up a memory, then whispered, "Connor." A white mist slowly obscured her reflection. As the cloudiness rolled and thickened, she backed up and made herself comfortable on her bed without breaking eye contact with the mirror. She felt the journey begin and let the memory take over her conscious mind.

  The space around her blurred, the room went black and she felt the drop in temperature before she saw when and where she'd been taken.

  It wasn't even close to the sort of memory she had hoped for...

  Chapter 9

  It was autumn of 1998 and the trees on Harvard's campus were in glorious shades of reds and golds. Though this term marked the beginning of her third year in New England, Lilli was no less fascinated by seasonal changes. Growing up on a tropical island owned by her family had not prepared her for "the real world" but she was enjoying every minute of the experience and her education.

  Initially she had vehemently disagreed with Chester about the necessity of going away to college to learn how to run a business. She would repeatedly ask, what could some stuffy old professor teach her that she didn't already know from hands-on experience? And he would answer that he didn't know, but the only way for her to find out if those professors had anything to offer her was to go to the best business school he knew of.

  In desperation, she'd tossed out the argument that he hadn't made Bradley or Paul attend college. His answer always silenced her complaints; she was the one who would be running the family's flagship property, so she had to be better than both her older brothers put together.

  And, as always, Daddy was right. What she was learning would take the Davenport profitably into the future. Her private tutors had given her a well-rounded education to supplement what living and working in a hotel had taught her. But she still had to spend every non-class, non-sleeping hour studying in order not to fall behind. She didn't really mind missing the parties or football games though. She knew exactly why she was at Harvard and it was not to have a good time... or catch a husband like her freshman roommate had instantly admitted to.

  What she did mind, however, were the hours spent in classes she had absolutely no interest in, like the one she was on her way to now. Instead of the regular economics lecture, there was to be a guest speaker—a professor from Penn State who had written a controversial book comparing and contrasting the economic and moral elements that contributed to the financial disaster of 1929. Yada, yada, yada. The guest speaker sounded like a theorist and theorizing made her brain hurt.

  She liked facts. Two plus two always equaled four in her world. She really didn't care about some genius economist's opinion of what may have happened in the 1920s. She knew the one fact that was most important to her—the Crystal Island Davenport Hotel had its Grand Opening March 1, 1924. Spending the next hour studying for her marketing exam would be far more worthwhile.

  But as she considered skipping the class, she imagined how her father would scold her for not taking advantage of an opportunity to learn something she didn't know. Thus, she was on her way to yet another lecture on something she could not care less about.
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br />   To her surprise, rather than walking into the usual half-empty auditorium-style classroom, nearly every seat was already taken. Apparently, the guest speaker's lecture had been opened to other students. Lilli quickly scanned the entire room and opted for an empty seat near the aisle in the last row. That way she could easily escape if she chose.

  "Excuse me," she said to the man sitting next to the aisle. "Is that seat taken?" Her expectation was that he would do the gentlemanly thing and move over one spot but he just shifted his legs so she could squeeze past him. She quickly settled in and extracted the appropriate notebook and a pen from her backpack.

  "Are you enrolled in this class?" the ill-mannered fellow asked.

  "Yes," she replied without giving him her attention. She hoped he wasn't one of those rude students who talked all through the lecture.

  He didn't take the hint. "I was just wondering because I was told today's class was open to history and sociology students as well as business majors."

  Since he hadn't asked her a question, she didn't feel obligated to respond. Instead, she opened the notebook to a blank page and printed the date and guest speaker's name at the top.

  "Is there something in particular you're hoping to hear about?"

  She sighed and turned toward him. "I'm sorry, but—" For the first time in her entire life she was awestruck by a good-looking man. No, not good-looking, Gorgeous, with a capital G... nearly jet black hair that fell over his forehead and hadn't been trimmed in a while, dark, soulful eyes and a shadow of beard along a strong jaw.

  He smiled and she had to remind herself to breathe.

  "I'm the one who should apologize. I should have introduced myself before asking such personal questions, but I guess I'm a little nervous. I wasn't expecting this large of an audience." He held out his hand. "Connor O'Malley."

  Lilli blinked, swallowed, glanced at the name she'd just printed then back at his expressive eyes. She finally shook his proffered hand. "Lilli." She gathered her wits in time to withhold her last name, as she always did when meeting strangers, no matter how attractive they were. "I'm, uh, looking forward to your lecture."