The Sorcerer King and the Fire Queen

by Ana Lee Kennedy

It had been a dream...hadn’t it? For a moment, I lost myself in Solomon’s mystical eyes. I wanted to throw myself into his arms and let him rock away my fear.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned. “You were murmuring in your sleep.”

  The A/C whirred under the window. Since the room’s temperature felt so nice, and I’d had little sleep the night before, I must’ve dozed off.

  At the dresser, Maureen hiked her short-shorts up over her bikini bottoms.

  I shivered but not from the cool air. “Bad dream.”

  He frowned, and his tone told me he didn’t believe me. “Is that all?”

  How could I lie to him? Shrugging, I added, “I’m not really sure.”

  He cupped my cheek and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. Worry flitted through his eyes and settled over his features, features that no longer struck me as alien but handsome. His concern for me lightened my trouble heart. He really did seem to care for me. Somehow I knew him whether it made sense or not.

  God help me, can I be falling for him?

  The thought both frightened and saddened me. The enticing gaze of a man and heartache always walked hand in hand.

  “Do you still feel like going to the water park?” Maureen asked.

  “Yeah,” I said as I rubbed sleep from my eyes. The vestiges of the chilling dream faded. “I think the heat just drained me. I’ll be fine in a few.”

  Solomon left bowls of food and water in the bathroom for the dog. We grabbed our towels and my suntan lotion, locked our rooms and piled into the Excursion, heading out of the parking lot in search of Egmont Street. Several minutes later, I located the route and turned left. A couple more turns put us on South Ocean Highway. It wasn’t long before we passed the marshes. I drove slowly, remembering when I was a little girl and how awesome I’d found the area with the pristine white, spindly-legged birds that kept vigil for fish.

  Sadness struck me. Mom would have liked Maureen and Solomon. Dad would have, too, if he hadn’t changed into the nasty, bitter person he was now. Sighing, I focused on the two-lane road in front of me.

  The Jekyll Island sign passed by on our left. Live oaks, clothed in gray-green Chantilly gowns of Spanish moss, flanked both sides of a short, narrow bridge.

  Taking a wrong turn, I maneuvered the SUV around the accessible areas, going the long way around the island to the park. Stopping the vehicle, I waited as a horse-drawn carriage full of tourists clattered by. Informative signs about repaving roads in crushed oyster shells, the paving product of choice over one hundred years ago, dotted the old-world landscape.

  “What an incredible place,” Solomon mused.

  “It is beautiful,” Maureen breathed, her eyes wide with wonder.

  The trees with their long, mossy hair, the cool, shady atmosphere, the briny aroma of the ocean, and the lovely resort carried the perfume of history. Men such as Vanderbilt, J.P. Morgan and Rockefeller were responsible for the island’s club-like atmosphere of the 1800s.

  We rounded the other end of the island, and within minutes, a sign announcing Summer Waves appeared. After finding a parking spot, we grabbed our things and locked the SUV.

  Solomon paid our way in. Once inside, I quickly changed in the women’s locker area, and then we laid our blankets out on an unclaimed section of ground.

  Under a rented umbrella, Solomon pulled a bottle from the pocket of his jams-style trunks and began slathering lotion across his torso under his t-shirt, which he left on. I noted the sunscreen was the highest SPF available.

  “How about trying the water slides?” Solomon asked.

  “Can you handle the sun?” I asked.

  He held the bottle up for me to see. “I won’t be in the sun long. That’s why I rented an umbrella.” He smiled. “So, are you coming?”

  “You two go on,” I said quickly.

  “Oh, come on, Ruby,” Maureen pleaded. “The water slides will be fun.”

  “Shooting along on my ass at speeds which are better left to things powered by engines is not on my list of fun things to do.” I shrugged. “Besides, I need a pair of sunglasses in the worst way. I’m getting a headache from the glare off the water.”

  “Okay,” she said, disappointed. “We’ll meet you here later.”

  Earlier, I’d placed money in my bikini top, and since the sun had turned the sidewalk into a hotplate, I made my way over the grass to one of the tourist shops along the walk.

  It didn’t take me long to find a nice pair of shades, another bottle of sunscreen with higher SPF than I already had, and a couple of huge beach towels with the words “Summer Waves” on them. As I started to put my purchases on the counter, a rack of foam platform sandals drew my attention. Several pairs composed of brightly swirled colors took up the top shelf. The second level held pairs with geometric shapes cut out of the heels, and slip-on rubber straps that wrapped around the wearer’s ankles adorned other sets.

  A pair of hot pink ones with turquoise swirls and little hearts cut out of the foam screamed Maureen’s name. I checked the size, added them to my purchases and picked up a pair for me too.

  As I wandered toward the back of the little store, a display of summer dresses caught my attention. I spent a good fifteen minutes browsing through them.

  Finished with shopping, I found Solomon under the umbrella. When he saw me, a dazzling smile touched his lips. My heart kicked into high gear. No one had ever made me feel that way, not even Cole. People who passed Solomon openly stared at him. However, I no longer saw someone strange and unnatural. Instead, I saw a man who possessed a honed body, a brilliant smile, glimmering flaxen hair, and eyes that cut straight through to my soul every time our gazes met.

  On my way to sit with him, I dodged a small group of Hispanic children carrying sodas and large orders of French fries. A baby cried, protesting the fact her mother had taken her out of the wading pool, and the sound of waves began again when the machine for the man-made ocean kicked on. At that moment, I realized how much I was enjoying our day of relaxation.

  “Do a bit of shopping?” he asked, humor in his voice.

  “Yes.” I sat next to him, scanning the park for Maureen’s whereabouts.

  “Maureen is dozing on her towel over there,” he said, pointing.

  She lay on her belly, her round bottom pointed toward the sun.

  “She had a bit of misfortune at the black water tubes.” Solomon nodded toward a tall structure with water chutes propelling the adventurous butt skidder nearly straight down in total darkness. “When Maureen hit the pool at the bottom, the impact ripped her top off.”

  Rolling my eyes, I groaned.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t hear the fuss,” he said, laughing. “There were squeals of shock and catcalls for several minutes.”

  “What did Maureen do?”

  “Laughed.”

  “That woman has no shame.”

  Solomon peeked into the plastic sack on my lap. “Hmm...towels, lotion, sunglasses.” He withdrew the shades. “Summer dresses and shoes too.” He removed the tag from the eyewear and handed them to me.

  He met my gaze. Something clenched within me, something sweet and powerful. Flustered, I looked away.

  “I want to apologize for last night,” he said. He took my hand and squeezed it.

  “It’s okay.” I squeezed his hand back, but still couldn’t look at him.

  “Are you going to wear some of your new stuff to dinner tonight?”

  I shrugged, thankful he’d let the matter drop. “Sure.”

  “Good, I’ll pick the restaurant.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Solomon made reservations at the Cargo Portside Grill in Brunswick.

  After showers and watching a bit of TV, we fed Shunka then dressed for dinner. I kept my purchases hidden from Maureen. Once she went into the bathroom to shower, I pulled the bag out from under my bed and placed the pink dress and platform sandals on her bed where she’d see them. It was the least I could do for the way I treated he
r at times.

  Minutes later, she emerged. She stood in her towel, another wrapped around her hair, and stared at the items with her mouth ajar.

  “What are those?” she asked quietly.

  “Clothes,” I answered. It occurred to me I may have offended her with my gift, and a pang of worry stabbed my gut.

  “For me?” She fixed her large green eyes on me, an almost liquid expression in them. “You bought me an outfit?”

  “Yeah.” I shrugged, occupying myself by taking items out of the shopping bag.

  “I never had a friend buy me something before,” she said so seriously it raised the hair on my nape. With trembling fingers, she traced the faint outline of a pale pink heart on the dress’s hemline. “The dress and shoes are beautiful, Ruby.”

  “I thought maybe...well...I thought that...” Uncomfortable with the situation, I focused on taking the tags off my dress. “Never mind. I’m glad you like them.”

  She grew suddenly quiet, and I sneaked a look at her only to wish I hadn’t. She wore a silly, almost love-struck grin on her face.

  “Thank you!” Something galvanized her into motion, and she hurried straight for me. Her boobs bounced like basketballs, and all I could think about was getting the hell out of the way before they smothered me. Quicker than I gave her credit for, Maureen reached me before I could take more than two steps backward and hugged me so hard I couldn’t breathe. “And yes,” she added, “the dress and sandals make up for my favorite pair of shoes and then some.”

  “Whatever.” I untangled myself from her arms, a lump forming in my throat. I just wanted out of the room and away from the goofy look on her face.

  She picked the dress up and hugged it to her, even sniffing the garment. “Thank you so much.”

  ****

  Promptly at seven p.m., Solomon parked his Excursion and helped Maureen and me out of it.

  The Cargo Portside Grill stood on New Castle Street. The building’s tan stucco, large wooden double doors and small awning with the emblem of a ship’s prow added class to the historical location. Solomon took us by our elbows and ushered us across the street. Inside, the grill’s atmosphere put me at ease. Diners relaxed, wearing everything from nice evening attire to golf shirts. I glanced down at my periwinkle blue dress sprinkled with dark blue orchids and wriggled my toes in my light blue wedge sandals. For once I felt attractive.

  A host seated us at our reserved table. Solomon helped us sit and then ordered a bottle of red wine. For the first time in days, I felt comfortable. I studied the wide expanse of bricked wall covered with tinted photographs of historic ships that once frequented the waterways and coastal areas of Brunswick. An enormous painting of a steamship upon stark blue water with a burnt-orange-sky hung on the adjoining white wall. The hues looked incredible against the neutral expanse. The warm glow of the polished heart-pine tables and the matching bar completed the friendly, yet chic atmosphere.

  Our orders didn’t take long. Each of us enjoyed a wonderful seafood dish, the wine, and afterward, coffee and marbled cheesecake for dessert. Maureen didn’t say much during our meal. She seemed lost in her own little world. I’d even managed to forget the visions, the bikers and the monsters for the most part. However, I noticed as the evening wore on that her cheeks glowed pinker than usual, and her stupendous cleavage had begun to match her facial color, both areas blending with her dress.

  “Are you all right?” Solomon asked her.

  She sipped from a glass of ice water. “I don’t feel well.”

  “I bet you got too much sun today.” I touched her left cheek with the back of my hand. “You sunbathed too long. You’re skin is really hot.”

  “Now you know why I stayed under the umbrella most of the time, even after slathering on my sunscreen,” Solomon admonished her gently as he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Would you like to go back to your room and lie down?”

  Maureen nodded. “If you two don’t mind.” She glanced at each of us. “I’ll just let the A/C hit me and watch TV. You two go on to that after-dinner club like we planned. I wouldn’t be much fun right now anyway.”

  “Are you sure?” It bothered me that she didn’t feel well, and it didn’t seem right to leave her alone.

  “Yes,” she said with conviction. “My skin is really starting to hurt and I feel queasy.”

  Solomon paid our bill, and I grabbed the bag holding our doggie boxes. On the return trip to the motel, he stopped at a drugstore and bought a huge bottle of aloe gel. We got Maureen back to the room, and he waited outside as I helped her shrug out of her dress and sprawl out on the cool sheets. After I smoothed the gel on her shoulders, arms, back and the backsides of her thighs, I turned on the television and handed her the remote.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Sympathy for her assailed me. She looked like someone had spray-painted her in fuchsia.

  She smiled wanly. “I’ll be fine. I just got too much sun. Next time, I’ll use sunscreen with a higher SPF like Solomon told me to. I forgot to put it on again after swimming and then sunbathed too long, so it’s my fault.”

  Shutting the door quietly, I turned to find Solomon leaning against the grill of the Excursion, his shades perched upon his head.

  The sun sat low in the hazy sky behind him. The evening was still early, but it didn’t feel right going too far from the motel room in case Maureen became really ill. I worried about sun poisoning, which could be dangerous.

  He seemed to sense my reservations. “Do you feel uncomfortable leaving Maureen alone?”

  “Her sunburn is getting worse. I’d rather be nearby in case she needs something—or if we need to take her to the nearest emergency room.”

  “You’re a good friend.” He walked around to the driver’s side and hit the power button to roll up the windows then locked the doors.

  Me? A good friend? I paused and pondered that for a couple seconds. Could I call my ditzy hitchhiker a friend?

  “Well,” I quipped in an attempt to hide my discomfort, “don’t spread it around.”

  He grinned, and my heart flip-flopped in response. “I have a bottle of wine in my room,” he said. “We can talk, play cards or watch television. Unless you’d rather call it a night.”

  With our erotic encounter the night before still fresh in my mind, I started toward his room.

  I’m playing with fire. I should just turn around and go to my room. At the thought of being in his arms again, tingles rushed between my legs, and I struggled to breathe properly. So much for not getting involved. I reminded myself that if we made love we would unlock something we couldn’t control.

  He used his keycard at the door. Inside, the TV still lit up the otherwise dark room. Maps from The Weather Channel flashed across its screen. He turned on a wall lamp above a small, battered writing desk and hooked his sunglasses on a corner of the television. The décor of his quarters had the same colors as my shared room except the artwork on the walls displayed old galleon ships on rough seas. Instead of a dark brown bedspread, a cover of cream with tiny anchor emblems in brown and black covered his bed. A small pile of dirty laundry lay against the long dresser shouldering the flat-screen television. His suitcase sat open on an easy chair riddled with cigarette burns and coffee stains. Clothing and various items spilled out of it.

  He picked up a paper bag sitting on the nightstand. The sack rustled loudly as he pulled out a bottle of red Joseph Phelps Insignia. He also withdrew a deck of cards, a box of Ritz Crackers and a can of spray cheese.

  I couldn’t help but laugh at the combination.

  “What?” He looked up, his pale eyes glowing in the dim lighting.

  “Excellent wine, but crackers and spray cheese?”

  “Hey, I’m a bachelor. What else did you expect?”

  I giggled softly and shook my head.

  “Somehow I feel I should be insulted,” he joked.

  “No, not at all. I’m used to being around my dad. He’s been a widower for a long time now.”

>   “Does your dad eat a lot of this sort of food?” he questioned as he set it on a small table by the window.

  “Yeah, but I try to cook him a good meal at least a couple times a week.”

  “See? Men need someone to make them eat right.”

  I shrugged. “Most of the time he refuses to eat what I cook.”

  “How odd. What man would pass up a great meal?”

  “You’d just have to know my father.”

  “Sam’s a great cook, but his diet is almost as bad as mine. Fast food and packaged dinners are easier than a home-cooked meal.” His deep laughter poured over me, inspiring a need in my loins that left me breathless.

  Nodding, I pulled out one of the padded chairs and accepted a flimsy plastic motel cup he’d filled with wine. I clamped my thighs together to quell the need throbbing between them and peeled the Cellophane off the deck of playing cards.

  “What sort of card games do you like to play?” I asked.

  “Strip poker.”

  My gaze flew up to meet his.

  He burst out laughing.

  Heat crept out of the collar of my dress and flamed into my cheeks. I concentrated on shuffling the slick cards, but my hands shook so hard I kept dropping them.

  Solomon pulled the string on a small lamp hanging over the table. I looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn’t comment on the color of my face.

  “How about gin rummy?” he suggested, sitting across from me.

  “I haven’t played it for a long time,” I warned.

  “We’ll play to five hundred to start.”

  I shuffled the cards one more time and dealt a hand of seven for each of us.

  An hour later, he’d beaten me by thirty-five points, and only a third of the Joseph Phelps Insignia remained. Pouring our cups full again, he tossed the empty bottle in the trash, handed my cup to me, and then relaxed in his chair. His hair shimmered silver under the lamplight, and his eyelashes shone luminously. My insides tightened, and all I wanted to do was undress and straddle him.

  “Make yourself comfortable and turn the TV channel if you like,” Solomon said, getting up. He bumped his head against the overhead lamp, sending it swaying. “I’m going to peek in on Maureen and make sure she’s all right.” He reached up and stopped the light’s motion.