“I’m happy to know I can make a difference—both for you and the nursing home. Even though that means I have to be social and chat with people who barely even said hello before today. But I’m enduring it all just for you.”
He kissed the top of her head and felt her body melt into his. He wished he could whisk her away and spend the rest of the day lying on a blanket in his back garden, with her in his arms, her head resting on his chest, and possibly no clothes on. He smiled at the thought. Ever since they made love, the day after he showed up in New York determined to win her heart back, he’d become addicted to her. Her touch, her kisses, her body molding with his in such a perfect way it seemed they had been made for each other, to fit exclusively with the other. “I love you,” he whispered in her ear.
She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. Those blue eyes that used to rob him of words and steal his breath whenever they met his own in high school, still had the same effect on him. Only now, whenever their gazes met and held, those ocean blues held warmth and love, and promises of a wonderful future together.
She didn’t say a word; she just smiled and leaned closer to his face. Their lips had barely brushed when the sound of a throat clearing broke the moment.
“Don’t test my patience, Morgan.”
Kyla rolled her eyes at the sound of her brother’s voice. She looked to her right and glared at him. “You’d better get used to the sight of me and Caleb kissing, if you don’t want to get a stomach ulcer.”
Conor’s dark eyebrows knitted together, in what was supposed to be an intimidating glower. She smiled, then let go of Caleb and took a step toward her brother with open arms and let her brother pull her to him.
“Fine, I’ll give him a chance. Just one.” He raised his eyes and narrowed them as he fixed them on Caleb. “But if I ever see her shed a tear, you’ll be in trouble, Morgan. I’ll make you regret it.”
Just like that time he’d punched him, he did that ‘I’m watching you’ gesture, that only made Caleb laugh. This time Kyla saw him, though, and slapped his chest. Conor shrugged.
“If I ever hurt her, you have my permission to use your fists on me.” Caleb looked straight into Kyla’s eyes and held her gaze. “I’d rather cut my hands off than make her cry. I love her more than life.”
“Aww.” Giorgia brought a hand to her heart, while Conor rolled his eyes. “You’re handsome, talented, and romantic. You’re a lucky woman, Kyla.”
“I am.” Kyla nodded, her eyes glistening as they veiled with tears. She blinked a couple of times, then threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “And I’m so happy Destiny O’Hara decided to use her matchmaking skills on us,” she whispered against his neck, her warm breath making his skin tingle and his body fill with need.
He chuckled. “Me too.”
He took her face in his hands, threw a quick glance at Conor, then brushed Kyla’s lips in a sweet kiss. He thought he heard Conor mumble something and Giorgia scold him, but all he cared about was the feel of her lips, the sweet taste of strawberry cupcake from Vanilla Kisses she’d been munching on earlier. He knew that for once in his life he finally felt complete, even without a brush in his hand or a white canvas waiting for him to unleash his creativity. Only a couple of months ago he’d thought he’d had a brief brush with love and he’d lost it before he could get used to the feeling.
Now he knew their relationship would last forever, just like the best paintings that had lasted throughout the centuries.
The Bay of Love
Read on for the bonus short story, The Bay of Love: Giorgia and Conor, and for the links to the other novellas in the series.
Giorgia and Conor - A Fortune’s Bay Short Story
Some people lived for the thrill of new experiences and adventures. Giorgia Di Maggio wasn’t one of them. As she slumped down on the white, sandy beach of Sparrow Island, a small island off the coast of Florida, she couldn’t help questioning all her latest decisions—as well as her mental sanity.
“I knew it was a bad idea. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to you. Maledizione!”
Watching the dolphin that had just sunk their rented kayak swim away in the clear waters of the Gulf of Mexico, Giorgia wished she hadn’t let Jerika, her bubbly Californian friend, talk her into this crazy adventure—and into turning her life upside-down.
She’d been perfectly okay living her monotonous but safe life in an inconspicuous town in the North-West of Italy. Or so she’d thought, until Jerika convinced her she had to live a little before she turned thirty. In a spur of pure craziness, Giorgia quit her job as an accountant in a big company, packed a couple of suitcases, and applied for a three-month tourist visa that would allow her to live in California with Jerika until she’d figured out what she was going to do with her life. Or why she’d done such a crazy thing, which was totally unlike her. Whatever happened first.
But when she’d agreed to spend a pre-Christmas vacation in a town called Fortune’s Bay, in the South-West of Florida, before moving to California, she hadn’t considered the possibility she might die on the second day of their vacation.
She hugged her knees and closed her eyes, wishing it were all just a bad dream. Whatever had possessed her to let Jerika persuade her into renting a kayak to reach one of the small islands off the coast? When on their first morning in Fortune’s Bay the B&B owner informed them that a good number of birds could be found on Sparrow Island, Jerika had jumped at the chance. Her friend had a photography blog and was always looking for opportunities to add more images to her portfolio. So Giorgia’d had to suck it up and follow her friend.
And now they were stranded on a deserted island.
Jerika hadn’t stopped taking pictures ever since they’d reached the shore. She’d barely let out an uh-oh after the accident, before going after the next bird she wanted to capture on camera.
The click-click-click of the camera’s shutter continued as if she hadn’t even spoken. As if they weren’t stuck on an island with no way of going back to dry land other than swimming—and possibly ending up on the lunch menu of a shark. Fantastico.
“Are you even aware of the mess we’re in?”
Jerika’s camera came up as she stared at Giorgia through the lens. Click. Click. Click-click. Frustration flared and Giorgia picked up a big pebble half-hidden in the sand. “Stop taking pictures or I swear I’ll hit you on the head with this.”
Jerika lowered her camera and let it hang on the strap around her neck. She raised her eyes at the sky and let out an audible sigh. “You’re overreacting, Gio.”
“I’m overreacting? Seriously, Jer? Our kayak got smashed by a killer dolphin, we’re stranded on an island with no cell coverage, no food, and no water.” She tossed the pebble into the surf and groaned. “We don’t even have a volleyball named Wilson we can talk to. We’re gonna die, and by the time they find us, seagulls will have eaten our flesh and they won’t be able to recognize us, and they’ll bury us in a nameless tomb with a Jane Doe stone, and—”
“Okay, enough.” Jerika shook Giorgia by the shoulders, and she blinked the gory scenario away. “We’re not going to die. We’re only twenty minutes away from the mainland, and this is on the tourist route for the boat tours. Someone is bound to come by, some fishermen or tourists. We’ll be fine.”
“I shouldn’t have listened to you. I shouldn’t have let you convince me to turn my life upside-down, to leave everything and everyone I knew just to follow some crazy dreams.” Giorgia ignored her friend’s words of reassurance and let out a sob, dropping her forehead on her knees. “I should’ve stayed where I was, crunching numbers, safe in my office.”
“Just keeping your nose to the grindstone, right? Because that was totally making you happy.” Jerika plopped down beside her and poked her shoulder. Giorgia swatted her hand away. “Gio, I promised this sabbatical would help you figure out your life, and I meant it. We’re not gonna die. In fact, in a few hours we’ll be laughing about this, while sipping
a Guinness at the Irish pub, like the good ol’ days in Dublin.”
Giorgia shook her head. She didn’t want a Guinness. She just wanted to go home, back to her routine. “My life was dull and boring, but at least it was safe.”
“There, you see? Your life was boring. You’re only twenty-nine; you can’t think of your life as anything but exciting, thrilling, adventurous—”
“You know I don’t like being adventurous,” Giorgia said from under her crossed arms.
“Don’t I know it.”
Giorgia looked up and glared at her friend. “I’m not like you, okay? I can’t be like you, no matter how hard you try to change me. I’m boring, and unexciting, and unadventurous, and un-everything else you are.”
They really were polar opposites. Not just in the looks department—Giorgia’s brown hair and eyes contrasted with Jerika’s dark blond hair and blue eyes—but most of all in their temperament and outlook on life in general. Whereas Jerika always saw the glass half-full, Giorgia saw it completely empty. Jerika looked at life through rainbow-tinted lenses, while Giorgia’s lenses only showed dull shades of gray. She still couldn’t understand how they could possibly be friends at all.
“What happened to the girl I met in Dublin?” Jerika asked. “The one who slept on a bunk bed in a cheap hostel and watched a rugby match with me in a crowded pub full of drunken fans? The girl who was determined to move to Dublin and marry an Irish guy? Because, I gotta tell you, she looked very much like you.”
The memory of the twenty-year-old, who went to Ireland on a totally spontaneous trip, thinking she could conquer the world and make her dreams come true, now felt foreign to Giorgia. She was no longer that girl. She was a responsible woman, perhaps a little dull if she had to be honest with herself, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing, after all. Dull equaled safe.
She sighed and dropped her head between her knees, trying to take deep breaths but feeling her lungs constrict with every intake. Panic-control technique one: failed. What was the next one on her list? Oh, yeah. Perhaps someone coming to save them would help.
“Giorgia, you’ve got to stop worrying about everything. Life happens, whether you live it or you don’t. Might as well live it to the fullest, don’t you think?” Jerika stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “Enjoy life or die trying, sistah.”
Yeah, well. They were going to die all right—but without trying to enjoy life. She groaned.
I should’ve stayed at the B&B.
Half an hour later, a rumble in the distance made Giorgia sit up from her slouched position on the sand. Shading her eyes with a hand, she squinted. The silhouette of a white double-decked yacht appeared against the blue sky, like a vision rising from the horizon.
“Oh, look. A boat.” Jerika’s tone was nonchalant, and a little smug too, as if she’d had no doubt someone would come save them. She raised her hand in the air and waved. “Hey, there! We need help! Helloooooo?”
Something undefinable squeezed Giorgia’s stomach. She put a hand on Jerika’s arm and pulled it down. Her friend turned and stared at her with a raised eyebrow.
“What if they’re pirates?” Giorgia’s voice trembled a little, just like her legs. Jerika’s eyebrow went even higher. “Or…smugglers. They could be smugglers. They could be… I don’t know, bandits. What if they kill us?”
“We’ll die anyway, right? You said we’d starve to death, seagulls would eat our flesh, and—”
“Okay, okay. I was just trying to be cautious.”
Jerika’s hand went up in the air again, and she waved frantically. Giorgia shrugged. Even if they were criminals, they’d already spotted them and had pointed the bow of the boat toward the beach. She sent up a little prayer that they were Good Samaritans who happened to pass by and not some wanted-dead-or-alive bandits. This town had been founded by pirates and there were pirate references everywhere. She wouldn’t be surprised to discover these were in fact modern pirates who stole from unaware tourists.
The boat stopped a few feet from the beach and one of the two guys, the one with darker hair and the hint of a five o’clock shadow, dropped anchor. He looked up and waved at them. “Ahoy, there!”
Giorgia took a step back. “I told you they’re pirates.”
“They’re not. It was just a friendly greeting.” Jerika’s tone was annoyed now.
Giorgia couldn’t help the fear that pressed down on her stomach, though. Normal people said hello, pirates said ahoy. Everyone knew that.
Jerika cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled. “We had an accident with our kayak. We need a ride back into town, if you don’t mind?”
“Couldn’t you have just asked to borrow their phone and call 911 instead?” Giorgia whispered, tugging on her friend’s hand. “Do you think it’s safe to get on a boat with strangers?”
Jerika spun around and glared at her. “See that writing on the side of the boat? They organize tours. They’re not pirates, and they’re our only chance of getting back to the mainland.”
Okay, maybe she’d overreacted. Rhythmical splashing caught Giorgia’s attention. The dark-haired guy rowed toward them on board a bright orange inflatable boat, while the other guy stood on the lower deck of the yacht, staring in their direction with his hands on his hips.
It took the boat probably ten seconds to reach the beach. As soon as it reached the shore, the man removed his shoes and jumped out into the shallow water, pulling the boat onto the sand.
“Conor Callaghan, at your service.” He stuck out his hand, and Giorgia took a step back. Jerika took it in both hands and gave it a vigorous shake.
“I’m Jerika. This is my friend Giorgia. We’re so happy you’re here.”
He nodded a greeting at Giorgia, then pointed a thumb over his shoulder. “That’s my friend Jack Danielson. The boat’s actually his; I’m just the skipper for the day.”
“You aren’t pirates, then,” Jerika said, cutting a sideways glance at Giorgia. “Or smugglers, or bandits.”
Conor frowned. “I can’t tell for sure, but last time I checked Jack didn’t have a parrot on his shoulder or a black eye patch. To be honest, though, he’s been wearing dark shades since I picked him up this morning, so if he’s turned into a pirate overnight, I can’t really tell.”
Jerika chuckled. “Thought so, but I had to ask. My friend thought you might be smugglers.”
Giorgia didn’t remember her face feeling so hot since the last, and only time she’d listened to Jerika who dared her to eat chilli con carne at a Mexican restaurant in Italy. Conor turned his head toward her. A smirk curved his lips, and even though his eyes were shaded by a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses, she was pretty sure they were studying her, probably narrowing a little as he wondered whether she was serious.
She shrugged. “How could I tell you weren’t? You can never be too sure of people these days.”
His amused belly laugh made her want to roll her eyes, but she reined in her emotions. They needed a ride back or they’d be stranded on this tiny piece of land for hours—if not days. Who knew when the next boat would come by?
“I promise you can trust us. Lots of people can vouch for us in town.”
How will we find out, if you kill us before we get to the town? She blinked the thought away. She had to stop. If he’d meant to hurt them, he would’ve done so already. She had no other option but to trust him.
“Now we’ve agreed you’re not pirates, could we go back to town?” Jerika took a step forward toward the inflatable boat. “I think your friend is tired of waiting.”
Giorgia looked at the boat, and sure enough the guy was waving his arms to get his friend’s attention, and when he did, he tapped his watch three times. Conor gave his friend a thumbs-up and turned to Giorgia.
“You’re all set?”
Giorgia nodded. She couldn’t wait to be back in her comfortable room in the B&B, put on her pajamas, and eat that box of chocolate cookies she bought yesterday. Maybe even read a couple of chapters of that r
omance novel she’d bought at the airport.
Conor helped them get on the inflatable boat, and Giorgia immediately looked for something she could hold on to, to avoid getting thrown into the ocean. A few seconds later they reached the yacht and climbed the ladder the other guy had fitted to the side of the boat.
“Welcome on board,” he said as soon as Jerika and Giorgia were safely on the yacht. “I’m Jack.”
“Jerika and Giorgia.” Jerika introduced them. “Thanks for rescuing us. Our kayak had a…um, collision with a dolphin.”
Both guys chuckled. “That’s a first,” Jack said. “Wild dolphins are pretty used to humans around here. How did you get on its bad side?”
“It was a killer dolphin that probably wanted to eat us.”
When both guys whipped their heads around and cocked their heads to the side, Giorgia realized she’d said it out loud. Oops.
“When was the last time a dolphin ate a person, Conor?”
Conor scratched the side of his head. “Wasn’t it last week? That tourist from Sydney, wasn’t it? Man, it was an awful job for the coroner.”
Jack nodded. “There wasn’t much of the guy left for the forensic team to identify him.”
Giorgia spun toward Jerika. “See? I told you we could’ve died!”
Male cackles behind her made her want to jump into the water and die. They’d been pulling her leg and she’d fallen for it. This day couldn’t get any worse.
“Sorry, my friend tends to be a little melodramatic at times.” Jerika shrugged apologetically, and Giorgia seriously thought about walking the plank and plunging head first. If only there was one, she would have.
Conor stepped closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. She flinched at the contact. “My apologies. I couldn’t help myself. I never let an opportunity for a good joke pass me by.”
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