Island Heat: Love Is Forever: The Templetons

by Rebecca Day

  Yes, Wyatt was a fascinating and appealing man who Janie desperately wanted to know better. However, their romantic relationship was a disaster. Even though Wyatt seemed attracted to her and even initiated a kiss, he rejected her and was downright rude at times. Did he want to remain purely professional? Did he not like their kiss? Was he just a jerk?

  Janie stopped in her tracks. She realized with horror that Wyatt was sitting not 10 feet in front of her. Luckily, he hadn’t seen her, as he was facing the other way. Silently, Janie turned and skulked away.

  “You don’t want to share the Hawaiian hospitality with me tonight?” Wyatt asked from behind her.

  Janie closed her eyes and fought the urge to run. She turned slowly towards him. “Oh, Wyatt, I didn’t see you,” she lied badly. It even rang false to her own ears. Wyatt graciously didn’t call her on it.

  “Sometime I blend in with the scenery. Would you like to sit with me? It’s an exceptionally beautiful sunset tonight.” It was. Orange and pinks battled with each other in a swirl of magnificent color.

  “How can I resist?” Janie sat gingerly near Wyatt, careful not to get too close.

  “I have to thank you for this.” Wyatt pointed at the sunset.

  “For the sunset? As much as I would like to, I don’t think I can take credit for it.”

  “No, but you can take credit for opening my eyes to it, again. I was taking it for granted.”

  “Forgetting to smell the flowers?”

  “Yes,” Wyatt turned towards her, and she felt his breath on her cheek. “Flowers are next on my list. Soon I’ll become a real sensitive guy.”

  “Will wonders never cease,” Janie remarked.

  They sat for a moment in contented silence. Janie allowed her senses to enjoy her surroundings: the beauty of the sunset and the water; the feel of the breeze on her face and through her hair; the cool sand between her toes; Wyatt’s warmth next to her; the smell of the salty air; the perfume of island flowers and Wyatt’s musk. She sighed, involuntarily.

  At the sound, Wyatt turned to her, questioningly. “Lovely,” she said in explanation.

  “Indeed,” he replied, looking intently into her eyes. They stayed that way for a while. Janie watched Wyatt study her features. She became conscious that she enjoyed watching him appreciate her. She allowed him to look long and hard. She wondered what he was thinking. Was he marveling at the straightness of her nose, the pink in her cheeks, the golden flecks in her green eyes? Was he thinking that her ears were too big, her hair too unruly? Whatever he noticed and whether he liked it or not, as he regarded her, his mouth softened, and his eyes melted into large chocolate pools.

  Janie realized with great satisfaction that she felt perfectly content. She turned and rested her head on her folded arms, which laid on her knees. She looked out at the surf, studying the waves as they rolled lazily towards the shore.

  She broke her gaze to glance at Wyatt. His attention was directed at the sunset. Like Janie, he sat with his arms resting on his knees, but his back was ram-rod straight, and his head stared straight ahead. He was wearing shorts and a plain, white t-shirt. The shirt sleeves ended midway across his biceps, which bulged fascinatingly, stretching the fabric. His shoulders were wide and thick, and she wondered at the hills and valleys of them and how they would feel if she could trace them with her fingers. She marveled at his body which seemed so much like the man, himself: hard and unyielding with brief interludes of softness.

  Janie settled her attention on the muscle that rose towards his neck. She wondered at a man who needed such a muscle to support his head. Janie found her hand reach for the muscle there. It must have a name, she thought insanely, her mouth dry now and her body as soft and welcoming as Wyatt’s must be hard and impenetrable. As her fingers rested gently on the hard spot that fascinated her so, Wyatt turned back towards Janie.

  “Your muscle,” she explained in a whisper. She felt her body draw closer to him, felt herself react, her breasts become heavy and sensitive, felt her skin tingle with the need for him.

  Janie’s hand traveled up Wyatt’s neck to cup his face and then her hands found his hair, enjoying the thick, soft texture between her fingers. Wyatt closed his eyes and swallowed loudly.

  He moved onto his knees and turned towards her. He let her touch him, as she had allowed him to watch her. Her hands traveled down his arms until they were nestled in his larger, rough hands.

  Their eyes locked, and Wyatt took this as his cue. Slowly, he took her into his arms. She rose on her knees to meet him and to allow him to bring her body against his. Janie felt totally enveloped, his strong arms held her up, as she pressed against his hard chest.

  Wyatt bowed his head and ever so gently swept his lips against hers. Then, just as gently, he tasted her, parting her lips. Their tongues met and danced in long undulating movements.

  His mouth took possession of hers in the way she was prepared for him to possess her completely. Kisses followed kisses until they became one, sweeping Janie to dizzying heights, her head swirling.

  After long moments, after their kiss said everything it was supposed to say, their heads fell to rest on each other’s shoulders, as if each needed the other to hold the other up. They stayed in that embrace as the sun finished setting. Then, they reluctantly resumed their positions on the sand.

  “The sunset,” Wyatt began. “I’m sorry.”

  Sorry. Wyatt was sorry again that they had shared an intimate moment. This time Janie did not have the urge to run. The feeling of contentment and bliss stayed with her despite the sudden rejection of Wyatt’s emotions. “Sunset,” she agreed, lying once again, helping him to blame the romantic atmosphere for their kiss.

  She stretched her legs across the sand, feeling the granules rub against her skin. She felt more alive than she had in years, and if that was all Wyatt could give her, then, that was fine, she thought surprising herself. There was nothing more than this, he seemed to say, and Janie decided to accept it and move on.

  “I’m going to get cleaned up,” she announced and began her walk towards the house. Janie felt Wyatt’s stare follow her as she made her way across the sand and then up the walkway. He was a part of her now, she mused. And that wasn’t half bad.

  Chapter 7

  The shower pulsated against Janie’s back, waking her slowly out of her erotic haze. She could still feel Wyatt’s arms around her and his lips on hers.

  Janie tilted her head back and let the water wash through her long hair, making it heavy. Tilting her head farther back, she let the water sluice her face. Instead of washing off Wyatt’s impact on her body, the water seemed to allow his touch to settle even more firmly on her.

  As the water rolled down her body, it seemed to trace Wyatt’s path. This is the face he kissed, it pointed out. This is the back he caressed. This is the shoulder he rested his head upon. She turned in the shower and enjoyed the feel of the water run off the length of her.

  The memory of their time together was heaven. She had never felt so womanly before, never felt her power as a woman so strongly. She had been kissed by several men in her life, and many times by Stanley, but she had never experienced anything so explosive before. She recalled her head swimming. Her heart racing. Could a woman die from such a kiss?

  Lust.

  Lots and lots of lust.

  I am too old to succumb to lust, she thought doubtfully. Janie searched her heart and knew that she felt more than lust towards Wyatt. She had fallen for him deeper than just physical attraction. She respected him, liked him, and maybe more. She deserved more from him than kisses. She had spent a life of settling. She was determined never to settle again.

  Slowly, she began to sober up out of her reverie. Wyatt was obviously attracted to her. He made that more than apparent. However, he evidently did not want any kind of relationship with her. Knowing this, she had to be resolute and stay away from him as much as possible, if not physically, at least emotionally.

  “No more kisses,” Ja
nie declared to the steamy bathroom. She wiped the mirror with a dry towel. “And no more, long moony looks into each other’s eyes,” she added, looking at her reflection. Silly, she thought. She was like a school girl, a romance novel character. “Get over it,” she commanded herself and dried her hair.

  Wyatt had slowly returned to himself after a long swim. He was starting to get used to the ever-present feeling of frustration and unresolved feelings. This must be what priests feel like, he thought. “But they don’t kiss hot women like that,” he commented ruefully. Surely, they couldn’t stop themselves if Janie were around. How could any man resist her?

  He was coming to the conclusion that he could not resist her. He had tried so hard to avoid her, to resent her, yet he could not stop himself from being drawn to her. It was not only physical; although, God knew that there was so much physical between them.

  Truly, he had never known such a beautiful woman. Even when she was working outside, when her hair a mess and her skin caked with salt water and sand without a trace of makeup on her face, she was the most glorious woman Wyatt had ever seen. It was all he could do sometimes not to grab her and kiss her.

  But this was more than physical attraction. Wyatt wanted to be with Janie. He was happier when she was around. He loved to hear her talk, loved to see her in his house. She belonged here in his life, and he desperately wanted her to belong to him.

  Under any other circumstances, his choice would be cut and dry. He would pursue Janie until she was his totally. And never let her go, he thought with a sigh.

  However, these circumstances couldn’t be helped. He wouldn’t let a woman come between him and his life’s work. He had to be sensible, rise above his emotions. The consequences would be too great if he gave in to what he wanted instead of what he knew was right.

  Wyatt grabbed a tall tumbler of orange juice and several oatmeal cookies from the kitchen and went to the living room to watch some bad TV. He hoped the dose of sugar and 70’s action movies would bring him back to his old self where he didn’t moon at women with long hair and green eyes. “Green eyes flecked with gold,” he added, aloud.

  “What?” Janie surprised Wyatt, half of a cookie wedged in his mouth.

  She was sitting on the couch, her feet resting up on the coffee table. The large family photo album lay open on her lap. Her hair was freshly washed, and he could smell its honey scent standing near her. He thought of cowardly turning around, but he couldn’t resist when she beckoned him, and he sat next to her on the couch.

  He broke the awkward silence. “I see you found the family album.”

  “Oh,” she stammered, slightly shamefaced. “I hope you don’t mind. I was looking for something to read, and I stumbled on this.”

  “That’s fine, really. I haven’t looked at it in years. Let’s take a look.”

  The book began with a photo of Sam in the hospital where she was born. Janie smiled at Wyatt’s look of proprietorship. “Miss Smoosh Face,” she joked.

  Wyatt blinked hard. “Yeah. I don’t really remember her like that. I was out of it the first month.”

  “You were in shock,” Janie provided gently.

  Wyatt was quiet for a moment, searching for words. He felt, somehow that he owed Janie the truth of who he was and what he had gone through. “It happened so quickly. At first, I didn’t believe it happened at all. I couldn’t believe it. Then, Miles came from New Jersey and moved in with us. He let me grieve, and he took care of the baby, of Sam. I was shocked, depressed, angry. It was exactly like the stages of grieving they talk about. Then, my brothers started coming over.

  “First James came. When I protested, he said that he was moving here for the waves, not for me.” Wyatt smiled, remembering his conversation with his little brother, who had tried to protect his ego. “Sweet James. He traded in his 200K job to live in a shack by the water. He hung up his own shingle, and he probably makes even more, now. In those days, he would tiptoe around pretending he wasn’t here until I needed him, and then he would appear in his light-hearted way and make me feel instantly better.

  “Then, Virgil came over, wanting to make everything better in a loud and decisive way. He’s always been an authority freak. Then, Morgan managed to land the general manager job at the biggest resort on the island, and Doc the head of the trauma center at Honolulu hospital. They all pretended they were coming for their own reasons, and I selfishly let them think that I believed them. We were all reunited, which we hadn’t been in years, not since Mom and Dad died, anyway. They all came to help their big brother, and believe me, I don’t forget it.”

  Janie was silent, as Wyatt finished his little speech. He wondered what she thought of his moment of weakness, when he couldn’t cope on his own.

  “Cookie?” Wyatt offered Janie, attempting to lighten the moment.

  Janie snatched the cookie from Wyatt and took a big bite. They sat for a while, chewing together. Janie was so thankful to Wyatt for opening up to her. She reflected on this tight-knit family of brothers, united to combat Wyatt’s grief.

  Janie spoke before she thought. “I love your family,” she blurted out.

  “What?”

  “I mean, I think your family is wonderful. Your brothers are so kind and great, each in his own way. And Miles, when he can drag himself away from his backgammon group, has been sweet to me.”

  Wyatt grunted. “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard anyone describe Miles as ‘sweet.’”

  Janie giggled. “Perhaps that is the wrong word,” she agreed.

  “I think the word you’re searching for is ‘curmudgeon.’” They both laughed in earnest.

  “I wouldn’t have minded a curmudgeon or two in my life, growing up,” Janie muttered. “My parents were very serious professors with their heads in books. They barely knew I was around.” Janie could never recall her parents ever coming to a school event or even tucking her in at night. They felt it was completely normal to work on a paper, do research, or go to a conference rather than do the little ordinary things a parent usually does with a child. Janie was taught to believe that their behavior was normal, but nevertheless, it left her lonely and wanting more.

  “That’s hard to believe. I can’t imagine anyone ignoring you,” Wyatt said softly, unaware how ironic his statement was when he had done his best to ignore Janie since she arrived on the island.

  Janie turned the pages of the album. They were filled with pictures of Sam at different ages. Occasionally, Miles, Wyatt, or one of his brothers would appear with her.

  “So, who’s idea was it for the names?” Janie had been wanting to ask him for a while, but she hadn’t had the courage to do it before.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Wyatt. The names. Wyatt, Virgil, Morgan, James, and Doc. It’s the Earp brothers plus Doc Holiday.”

  Wyatt squirmed a little, adjusting his body. He wiped his palms on his thighs and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. “Oh, that. Everyone always asks about that. It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got all night,” said Janie, smiling. She loved seeing Wyatt squirm, and was that the slightest tinge of a blush on his cheeks?

  “Are you sure?” he asked in a weak attempt to get her to change her mind.

  “Yes, I’m dying to know.”

  “Well,” he started, reluctantly. “It was my father’s idea. You see, he never wanted children. He married my mother because he was head over heels in love with her, but he told her that under no circumstances were they to have any children. ‘I can’t abide any children,’ he used to say.

  “My mother never argued with him. She would always tell him he was right and then do what she wanted, and he would come around to her way of thinking.”

  “Sounds like heaven,” Janie interrupted.

  “Indeed. Well, anyway, my father was a western fanatic. He read and watched only westerns. He decorated his office in western motifs. For their first vacation when they were married, they went to Tombstone, Arizona. Not
the most romantic setting, but…”

  “The okay Corral!” Janie was getting into the story.

  “Right! The okay Corral. And when they were touring the okay Corral, site of the great gunfight against the Earp brothers and Doc Holiday…”

  “With Wyatt Earp leading them,” Janie interrupted again, excitedly.

  “Do you know this story already?”

  Janie covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt again. I promise.”

  “Like you said, Wyatt Earp led them. So, while my father was reenacting the gunfight, playing the roles of all the players and getting my mother to play Frank McLaury – a bad guy – my mother told him matter-of-factly that she was four months pregnant. Of course, my father didn’t think this was good news at all, but he said it was okay as long as he could name the child.” Wyatt paused waiting for Janie to speak, but she still held her hand up to her face. “You can interrupt again if you wish. I know you want to,” he prompted.

  “And so he picked Wyatt, the top Earp brother. And then he continued naming you guys for the good guys at the okay Corral,” she blurted out.

  Wyatt smiled broadly. “Yes, although James Earp was not at the gunfight at the okay Corral. That was a mistake that Dad realized when James was seven years old. He wanted to change his name immediately when he found out, but my mother put her foot down.”

  Wyatt looked intently at Janie and smiled. “Good story?”

  “Great story,” Janie answered. It was the fun kind of family story that was totally absent in her life.

  “Well, then I guess it’s worth looking ridiculous, if you liked it.”