Minute by Minute

“Oh, God,” she said.

He followed her gaze to the first clear view of the beach. “This is nothing,” he said. “Wait till we get to the other side of the island. There’s a huge lagoon. And we have a lot more privacy where we’re staying.”

“Oh, really?”

He nodded, wanting this part to be over already. It was awkward, the first steps of a new dance. He wanted it to be like when they were online. He could speed things up, take her right to the bungalow, but he’d promised her a tour, and she should have it. There was so much to do here, and even though he’d like to keep her to himself, this was her vacation.

Meg turned to him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“What made you look for the island in the first place?”

“Aside from our fabulous New Year’s Eve conversation?”

“Yeah. Aside from that.”

He eased the cart around a few trees and toward the spa. The jungle was thicker here, and he thanked the timing gods that they’d made the trip in February, when the air was perfectly warm, but not too humid to breathe without a snorkel. “You weren’t home,” he said.

“Ah. Well, that clears everything up. Thanks.”

“It’s true.” God, he was glad she was as sarcastic live as she was online. “You weren’t home one night and I’d already written my column about the damn environmental bill I told you about. That idiot Thompson was just spoiling for me to say something that would upset—”

“Alex.”

He knew that tone, despite never having heard it before in his life. He had a tendency to get caught up in tangents, even on the computer, and Meg rarely let him get away with it. And now he could put the voice with the sentiment.

It seemed absurd that they’d never talked before. That this was their first meeting. On the other hand, why sit in the frying pan when you can jump right into the fire? “Right. I was seriously thinking about relocation at the time, and I figured an island worked for Gauguin, so why not me? So I surfed the web, and then I came across this island, and it was so much like what we’d talked about that, you know.”

“That you decided to spend an absurd amount of money so that we could meet here.”

“Basically, yeah. There’s the spa.” He pointed. “That whole building.”

“Is that your way of distracting me from follow-up questions?” she asked.

“No, that’s my way of saying there’s the spa.”

She looked at him. And damn if he didn’t recognize that look, too. Yeah, he’d never seen her, except for that surprisingly unflattering picture, but nonetheless.

“And about the questions. I told you. You can ask anything. I have no secrets,” he said.

“None?”

“Maybe one.”

“Which, of course, I’m going to have to get out of you before our time here is through,” Meg teased.

“Go for it.”

She grinned, then turned her attention to the spa.

The building was white, like the hotel, and it reminded him of the Greek Isles. Columns, open architecture, stark. A beautiful setting with ample views of the lush vegetation and the ocean. There were also some tents on the outskirts, more Roman than Greek, which were closed to their view. “Those are massage tents.”

Meg sighed. “I’ve dreamed of this. A real massage where I don’t have to think, or move, or do anything but make moany noises.”

“We can sign up right now.”

“Yes, please.”

He found the entrance and parked the cart under a nearby tree. Meg climbed out and he followed her up a series of marble steps, between two columns and into a spacious lobby. He hadn’t been to a lot of spas, but he’d read about this one, and it was supposed to be one of the best in the world.

A lovely older woman with silver hair smiled at them as they approached the marble desk. “How can I help you?”

“I’d like to get a massage, please,” Meg said.

“Of course. We have a four-handed massage, with two therapists working on your body at the same time. Aromatherapy, of course, using some of the fruits and oils unique to the Caribbean. We have reflexology, Swedish massage, hot stone massage, a sports massage tailored to your needs, and of course, our famous couples massage.”

“Okay,” Meg said. “I’ll take one of each.”

The woman smiled. “How would you like me to book them?”

“I was kidding. I want them all, but I’ll take two—how’s that?”

“Whatever we can do to make your stay more relaxing. There are also hydrotherapy sessions, seaweed baths, mud baths, and a mineral salt bath.”

“Now that’s just being mean.”

Alex touched Meg’s arm, wanting to give her all those treatments himself. “Anything you want.”

“I can’t decide. Do you have a brochure?”

“Naturally,” she said, handing her the folded chart. “But keep in mind you need to give us some advance notice. What I can do is put you down on our wait list, and notify you when we have an opening.”

“That would be wonderful.”

While Meg wrote down her name and how long she’d be staying, Alex studied the picture that dominated the wall across from the desk. Maybe he was nuts, but it looked like a Monet. Or a Manet. He could never get them straight. Whichever, it looked like something that belonged in a museum. With the blues and greens and soft lilypads, it was as tranquil as the building, as the breeze.

Meg thanked the receptionist, and they turned to leave. She walked slowly, sniffing the air as she walked. “It’s amazing.”

“What?”

“The ocean scent. It’s all over the island. Everywhere.”

“I’m used to the East Coast waters, and I don’t remember this smell at all.”

“I don’t think it’s like the California beaches, either. Maybe Catalina, but not quite. It’s like the ocean mixed with flowers somehow. I wish I could bottle it and take it home with me.”

“If I could get that for you, I would.”

She stopped, smiled at him. “This is the best present ever. You know that, right?”

“I hope so.” He waited, thinking maybe this would turn into a moment. The thought of kissing her was right there, urging him to move, but he held back. The first kiss was going to have to be her call. After that all bets were off. It wasn’t easy, but it was right. He had to wait.

The way she hesitated made him think that she was considering the options. But she didn’t lean forward. All she did was smile. It was enough. For now, at least.

“Where do we sign up for the other stuff?”

“Back at the hotel.”

“Should we do that now? I’m just thinking the place is pretty crowded…”

“Absolutely. Let’s go.”

They walked together, matching rhythms as they went down the steps. Once they were in the cart, he turned around and back to the hotel. It was a little trickier to find a place to put the cart, but after driving a few minutes, he found a space. The crowds here made him glad he’d gotten the bungalow, where it was quiet and empty and far away from all these adoring couples.

The entrance to the hotel was even more ornate than the spa facilities. Big marble steps again, but this time there was a fountain that greeted them just before the open front doors. He’d been to Italy several times and he recognized the fountain. It was a smaller version of the Trevi. When they reached the edge, he looked down and found the bottom glittering with coins of all kinds.

“It’s like that movie,” Meg said.

“Right. Legend has it that if you toss a coin into the fountain, you’re destined to come back.”

“My wallet’s in the cart.”

He dug a quarter from his pocket. “Use this one.”

“Do I have to do something special? Say any magic words?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe turn around and toss it over your shoulder.”

“And make a wish?”

“Sure, why not.”

She did exactly that. Turned and closed her eyes. He could tell she was getting detailed about the wish, because it took some time, but eventually, the coin went over her shoulder and plopped into the water.

When she opened her eyes again, they were filled with pleasure. If nothing else came of this impromptu getaway, at least he’d given her this. A chance to escape from her brutal work schedule, a way to relax and just take it easy.

“Oh, the hell with it,” he said, coming up with another quarter. He turned his back on the fountain, wished in no uncertain terms that the next few days would be filled with a lot more than frolicking in the sand and getting massages from strangers. He didn’t open his eyes until he heard the coin splash down.

Meg seemed to think that was funny, which was okay with him. Damn, her laugh was great. But enough of wishing. He wanted to do the sign-up thing so he could take her to the bungalow.

He bowed toward the door. “After you.”

Tugging him by the shirt, she led the way, but they both slowed as they went inside. He’d heard about the decor here, and the lobby, more than anything else, told him the tales were true.

The interior was huge and elegant. The furniture was mostly rattan, and a dozen huge plantation ceiling fans made it feel like outdoors. Between the couches were glass-topped tables, most of them with large tropical flower arrangements. Like the spa, the art was all Impressionist paintings, damn good ones. If they were prints, they were the best he’d ever seen. If they were real, he couldn’t imagine the kind of security they’d need.

“I think that’s where we need to go.”

She was pointing at the concierge desk, which had a big Activities banner across the front. A nice-looking woman on the phone smiled at them and held out a clipboard.

Meg took it, and him, to a nearby couch. Alex sat, and then she sat. Close. Really close. Jesus, this was bad. This was really bad. He was way too aware of how much he wanted her, and it had been what, an hour? He could not go there. Not yet. There was time. Now if he could only convince his dick that it should chill.

“Wow, this is a lot of stuff.”

He looked at the list as she filled in their names. All major groups were included, from windsurfing to climbing a rock wall.

“Jet Skis. Cool.”

He could do Jet Skis. Anybody could do Jet Skis, right? “Great. Mark that one.”

“And scuba, of course,” she said.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Meg turned to him. “Are you certified?”

“Not exactly, no.”

“I see.”

“I’ve watched reruns of Sea Hunt on Nick at Nite. Does that count?”

She grinned.

It wouldn’t do any good to be embarrassed. In fact, it was stupid, but he couldn’t help it. He wanted her to think he was the alpha male. All buff and strong and able to slay the woolly mammoth. Unfortunately, what he was really good at was conjugating verbs.

“What else?” she asked.

He looked down the list. “Volleyball?”

“I haven’t played since high school, but I really liked it. Let’s do it.” Her comment was punctuated by an audible tummy gurgle. Meg blushed, squinted her eyes.

“Okay, next on the tour will be food, yes?”

“Probably a good thing. The last food I had was hours and hours ago.”

“All right. Anything else you want to play?”

She looked at him as if he was going to slap her hand away from the cookie jar. “Do I have to decide it all right now?”

“No, you don’t. You don’t have to do a damn thing you don’t want to. Vacation, remember? All fun, all the time.”

“Good. Let’s get fed, and then…” She hesitated.

“Yes?”

“Then you can take me to the bungalow.”

MEG SAT AT THE LITTLE table, waiting for Alex to come back with their food. She’d ordered too much, but screw it, she was starving. Besides, everything smelled like heaven, and she was a fiend for fish tacos.

She looked behind her. There he stood, chatting with some tall cowboy guy, looking very fine and a wee bit impatient.

Meg was a lot of things, but dense wasn’t one of them. The vibes were there between her and Alex. Oh, yeah. And they definitely weren’t one-sided. She’d known back in L.A. that she was attracted to him, especially after seeing that one picture. But she’d had no idea she’d want him this much.

Everything from his voice to the crinkle of his eyes when he smiled hit her where it counted. Yeah, it probably didn’t help that she hadn’t had sex since the Ice Age, but that wasn’t the only thing going on.

The problem was that she had no clue what to do. Should she just pounce on him? Get the booty out of the way up front, and hope the spark built? While it was a fine idea, she wasn’t sure she could do it. It wasn’t her style. Not that she had an actual style, but boinking after an hour and a half wasn’t close. So how long was long enough? Four hours? Five?

Of course, if she counted all the online time they’d shared, she’d actually known him a year, which by anyone’s standards was more than enough time.

It just didn’t feel like a year.

If they’d said the exact same words to each other over a computer, she’d have been relaxed and cool as a cucumber. In person, not so much.

She wanted that comfort level back, and something told her it wasn’t going to happen in bed. It needed to happen when they were talking, going about the day. Then the bedroom thing would happen naturally. At least, that was her present theory. She reserved the right to change her mind whenever.

She turned back around. He’d be here soon, bearing food and drink, which was good. More talk had to be a step in the right direction.

In the meantime, she could look at the gorgeous view. The ocean wasn’t very far away. She had no sense of distance or direction, so she couldn’t say exactly how far, just that she could walk it in about five minutes. Alex had scored them a table right on the edge of the deck. She could almost forget that every other table was occupied with couples. Couples who touched. A lot. Kissing was also high on the agenda, with groping tailing by a hair.

It made her discomfort with Alex more acute, and looking at the ocean the best alternative.

God, it was stunning. She’d only seen pictures, and none of those had even hinted at how it would feel to actually be on that white sand, to smell that orgasmic scent. Even the breeze was something new. Slightly moist, a little salty, it lifted her hair and skimmed every available bare spot.

It would feel luscious to be nude here. To feel it all over.

A shadow on the table made her jump, and she turned to find Alex with a tray. She removed plates, napkins, forks, drinks. Then he put the tray away and came to sit next to her.

“This looks incredible,” she said, pulling her plate close.

He grabbed one of his tacos and bit into it with gusto.

She grinned and took a bite of her own. When she’d swallowed, she said, “Ambrosial.”

He nodded, but was too busy eating to respond.

Which was just fine. Sitting in the warm air, listening to distant metal drums, feeling the breeze and eating fantastic fish tacos, she felt something inside downshift.

She might not jump him in the next ten minutes or so, but that whole four-hour wait was beginning to feel a mite excessive.

3

“OH, ALEX. IT’S…”

He grinned as he drove their cart to a clearing that overlooked their beach, one he’d scoped out before she’d gotten there. Her reaction was exactly how he’d pictured it. Better. Her hand had gone to her chest—flat palm just under the sweet spot on her neck. It was a nice hand. No jewelry. Her short nails were neat and painted the palest pink.

“It’s gorgeous,” she said, scanning the magnificent vista.

“Wait till you see inside.”

She turned to him again. “You were thinking about relocating?”

“View now. Questions later.”

“Promise?” she said.

“There’s a phone but you don’t have to use it. There’s no TV. And I don’t think we can fill five whole days with scuba diving, so yeah. I promise.”

“I plan to be unbelievably intrusive. Rudely so,” she said.

“As long as we’re talking quid pro quo,” he said, thinking of all kinds of questions he’d like to ask her.

“Hmm.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” he asked.

She put her hand on his arm. “You must stop that immediately.”

“What?”

“Asking me about the worst that can happen. I know it works for you. You say it, and in your head, the worst can’t possibly happen, because you’ve said the magic words. But they’re not magic for me. I do think about the worst, and I don’t just go for a quick visit. I linger. I buy new drapes.”

“Okay. Consider it done.” He’d never thought about that phrase, although he knew he used it often. For him, it was a pressure release. More of a saying than a practice. But clearly, for Meg it meant a lot more.

“Really?” she asked, her brows raising in surprise.

He nodded. “The last thing I want to do is make you uncomfortable, and that’s the truth, too.”

She laughed.

“Now what?” he said.

“What I just said. What you just said.”

“That was funny?” Alex asked, sounding surprised.

“No. I don’t do that,” Meg stated.

“Talk?”

“No. Put it out there. Not until I know someone really well, and most of the time not even then. But we’ve been together for two hours, and I said what I meant. And,” she said, leaning toward him, widening those beautiful eyes, “nothing horrible happened.”

He looked at her so long he almost crashed into a palm tree. But once they were steady on the path again, he nodded. “You know what?”

“What?” she asked.

“This is gonna be interesting.”

THE BUNGALOW WAS something out of a dream. Thatched roof, wooden steps leading up to a balcony. The ocean as pure and clear as if it had just been made.

With the scented breeze nudging her hair, teasing her skin, she let Alex tackle her big suitcase while she grabbed her small one. Her sandals clicked on the boardwalk as she stared down into the water, watching a little something dart behind a slightly bigger something.

When she stepped up onto the balcony, she was torn between seeing what treats lay inside and just standing there breathless with wonder.

It was the brush of his hand on the small of her back that made her decision, and after a shiver of sheer happiness, she went the rest of the way inside.

“Oh, my God,” she said.

His chuckle, rumbling, deep, was the perfect first sound in this perfect paradise. Shiny, geometric patterns of wood made up the floor and the walls. The staircase to the loft was made of thicker wood, like flattened tree branches. Windows opened to the ocean, to the white sand.

Then there was the bed. It was right out of a Humphrey Bogart movie, complete with white mosquito netting and lush white pillows on top of an obscenely thick comforter. The couch, a rattan affair with thick blue cushions, looked inviting and comfy, and everything, everything smelled of the sea.

“You like?” he asked.

She turned. Alex stood with his arms across his chest, like the inventor of the wheel. His dark brows lifted and his teasing lips blossomed into a full-out, take-no-prisoners grin. She couldn’t grin any harder herself. Her cheeks actually ached from the attempt. “It’s heaven.”

He rose up on the balls of his feet. “Damn straight.”

How could she resist? He couldn’t even stay on the ground, he was so pleased. She walked right up to him, looked into eyes that were dark blue, not brown, and touched his cheek with her fingertips. “It’s hard to believe it’s real.”

“Maybe it’s not. Maybe it’s still New Year’s Eve and we’re still drunk.”

“That would explain so much,” Meg said, leaning in. And then her lips met his. Softly. Learning. Slightly parted.

His breath snuck inside, and it was sweet and a little minty. She felt his hand slip to her waist, but there was no pressure, just contact.

She moved closer, parting her lips. He followed her lead, not forcing anything. Until she licked his bottom lip. Then he pulled her tight against him, from breast to thigh, and the kiss went from sweet to hot in one blazing second.

Meg froze. Just…froze.

Alex, to his credit, backed off immediately. Even more to his credit, he didn’t seem the least freaked that she’d freaked. He smiled, tilted his head to the right, but he only said, “Why don’t you get unpacked? Check out the room, and don’t forget to look at the guest services book. Remember,” he added pointedly, “anything you want, anytime you want it.”

“Thanks, Alex,” she said. She went to her big suitcase and hauled it up to the bed. “Where will you be?”

He gestured upstairs. “Figured I’d put on some trunks. Get ready for some fun on the beach. Come back down when you’re done.”

She watched him walk up the wooden staircase, her gaze moving down from his shoulders to his waist, to his long legs. As soon as he disappeared, she sat down with a whuff.

The kiss had gobsmacked her in a major way. A normal person would have been pleased. Would have wanted more. Would have shouted yippee from the roof. But no. Not her.

It hadn’t been that long, had it? She’d gone out just last…

Spring.

God, she was such an incredible loser. Instead of finding herself a nice, hunky guy to share her bed, what did she do? Slept with a three-legged Labrador retriever and a blind cat. Yeah. That was healthy.

The good news was she still had time to get her act together. Alex didn’t seem upset, or even that surprised, which worked in her favor. The bad news was, what the hell was her problem?

She stood and unzipped her suitcase, amused at how much she’d packed. She could have fit the necessary clothing in her overnight case. She wouldn’t be needing her jeans, or much of anything but her bathing suits and sundresses.

It made putting things away a lot easier. All her makeup, which she didn’t even think she’d use, was in one case. Her hairbrush and dryer, another. And then there was the large, economy box of condoms she’d picked up in a haze of optimism.

Time. That’s all she needed. Time to feel as if the man in the bungalow was the same man she liked so much. That she knew so well.

That knew her.

Holy crap, she’d told him so much about herself.

She felt her cheeks fill with heat. They hadn’t actually had cyber sex. Not really. But the man definitely had a starring role in a lot of her fantasies.

Which they’d discussed. In detail.

Not him, per se, but the fantasies? Oh, yeah.

She knew he liked things intense. That he preferred women who gave as good as they got. That he was a very oral kind of guy. And that he had a thing for white panties.

He knew that her tastes weren’t exactly vanilla.

She looked at the box of condoms. She should have wished for courage at that fountain.

ALEX SPLASHED MORE WATER on his face, then leaned on his arms while he dripped into the sink.

He was in trouble. The kind that reminded him of what it had been like to be seventeen. It had sucked. He’d had no control over his dick, he’d been tongue-tied and stupid, and he’d stuttered when he was around women. Make that any woman. Except his mother and his aunt Esther. Theoretically, he’d outgrown that stage of development.

He raised his gaze to the beveled mirror. He wasn’t a kid anymore, not by a long shot. He was a professional. Maybe that should be ex-professional, but still. He’d won prizes. So why was he feeling like…Like he was seventeen again?

He was pretty damn sure he hadn’t been a jerk with her. Yeah, he’d kissed her, but she started it.

Oh, yeah. Mature. That was him all over.

They had five days. Five days to talk, to let her feel comfortable with him, to get to know each other. But damn, he wanted her.

She knew things about him that he’d never told anyone. Not even Ellen. And he’d been in love with Ellen. At least, he used to think so.

Now, he wasn’t sure. About Ellen, about his work, about his whole goddamn life. What he was sure about was this. Bringing Meg here. Getting away from everything that screwed with both their heads.