“What did your Mom say?”
“She wasn’t happy, but by then it didn’t matter anymore. She and my father split up and Mary moved to another state to shack up with her then lover. We’ve been estranged ever since.”
“That’s rough,” he offered uncomfortably. Joss wondered coyly if he was regretting making small with her after all. In her experience, men acted like they wanted to know you, but then squirmed in their seats when the story wasn’t easily digestible. They wanted the history to be as pretty as the face they were flirting with.
“It was,” she smirked privately, knowing she should let the poor sap off the hook. “Anyway, as soon as I left university, I flushed my meds and went on a sabbatical of sorts. Took that summer to hike the Pacific Coast Trail from border to border, Mexico right up to Canada. Did it in four and a half months.”
He looked at her reflection in the mirror, unable to mask his surprise. “Shit, no kidding?”
“No kidding. Solo trip too. By the time I hit the Oregon/Washington border, I knew what I had to do. I spent the next few years earning my accreditation. Alderleaf hired me on as an instructor soon after, and I have been with them ever since.”
“That’s cool. So like if we were lost in the woods together, you could build us a cabin and keep us alive, and shit? Cook up some squirrel, maybe knit us a cozy blanket we could snuggle under?” he teased, easing back into the flirtation. It seemed to be his comfort zone, she noted, wishing she had not put her book away.
“Sure,” she offered flatly, wondering just how far Romeo would push his impromptu seduction if she’d let him. It always surprised her, even now, when men came on to her. She didn’t consider herself all that beautiful and yet for some reason, they still seemed to hit on her. She certainly didn’t primp the way most women did. She rarely wore make up, and her long, blond hair spent more time tied back in a pony tail than coiffed. In fact, Hannah teased her that she’d be wearing more cosmetics the day of the wedding than she had worn in her whole life, combined. That was probably the truth. She was a tomboy, through and through, but it served her need for solitude, whether she liked it or not.
It wasn’t that Joss wasn’t interested in men, quite the contrary. She wanted the fairytale romance just as much as the next girl, but aside from her father, men always seemed to disappoint her. Things would start off great, but would never last. Her mother used to tell her that boys were intimidated by her intelligence. She would say, ‘Jocelyn, it wouldn’t hurt you to dumb it down a little around the opposite sex. Boys don’t want women to be smarter than they are.’
That used to drive Joss crazy. Why would a man want a woman pretending to be something she wasn’t? And why would she want any man that would want that? She held out hope for years that her mother was wrong, but at 31, and hopelessly single, she was starting to wonder. Still, she knew that she came across as too serious, even bitchy sometimes, but she dreamed that the right guy would see past all that and bring out her wild, playful side. She knew it was in there. Aside from being bright, she did have a healthy, sexy imagination. She had just built up a lot of walls.
“Have you ever had to use your survival skills? I mean outside of teaching?” he asked, pulling her back from her thoughts.
“Sure, a few times, on the PCT. It can be dangerous out in the back country if you don’t know what you’re doing,” she admitted, her eyes looking ahead on the highway. They were getting close to the Airport Expressway, much to her dismay. She was excited to see Hannah again, but flying made her anxious.
It had been almost a year since she had seen her friend. The last time they were together, Hannah announced her engagement and asked Joss to stand up for her. At first Joss declined, uncertain she would have time for all the festivities and responsibilities that came with the position, but Hannah assured her that there would be none of that to worry about. They were planning a destination wedding in an exotic locale, and all the fun would be during the week of the wedding. Joss accepted, in spite of her fear of flying. She would just have to suck it up if she wanted to be beside her best friend when she tied the knot.
They met at S.U., college roommates, and were inseparable all through school. Hannah was a wild child, always partying and having fun. She insisted on bringing out Joss’s playful side, and thank goodness she did, or Joss would’ve spent the entire four years with her nose in her books. No one could loosen Joss up like Hannah! By the same token, Hannah needed Joss’ sensibility and work ethic to help her stay focused. They’d been a good team and Joss adored her. Hannah had been there for her during some tough times, in particular that last year of university, and the terrible loss that Joss had endured.
“We’ll be pulling into departures in about 5 minutes,” he said, glancing over his shoulder to merge. Once he shifted the Cadillac into the proper lane, he casually handed her his cellphone. “Give me your digits. Maybe we can hook up when you get back from your trip,” he offered casually, as though there was no doubt that she would comply.
“I’m Brandon, by the way. My friends call me B.”
Joss stared at his phone, brows raised, but did nothing, trying unsuccessfully to hide her astonishment. Did he really think she would just roll over and lift her petticoats for him? After only a few minutes of flirting? Cute, but lazy, she thought, turning her head away.
“I’m too busy to date, besides, don’t you live in Seattle?” she declined, watching the airport closing in.
“Yeah, so what. We’re only an hour apart. You can come visit me, I have a spare room,” he winked, turning up the charm.
“I’m not much of a city girl.”
“Come on, I’m harmless” he urged, gesturing her to take his phone. “We’ll have fun! I’m just a normal guy, I promise.”
“Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. Normal doesn’t work for me, B.”
Chapter 2
It was hot. Not Southern California hot. More torrid, like from the depths of Hades, hot. It made Charles wish he’d opted for Bermuda shorts and a t-shirt instead of his business suit and tie. He hadn’t really thought it through, how fucking humid it would be in Fiji, which was not surprising, given that his brain was ninety percent focused on business, a hundred percent of the time.
He made his way to the taxi stand, dragging his luggage behind him, hoping that an air conditioned car would be available to take him to the transfer station. He was told it was about 4 miles from the Nadi International Airport. From there, he could catch his flight to his destination via seaplane.
He was traveling to a private island to research a location for a resort his company was planning to build. The South Pacific was booming. Up until recently, much of the area catered to the very wealthy, but his company, looking to diversify, was planning on building an all inclusive resort that was both enticing and affordable for middle income travelers. They were a lucrative demographic. His company was successful because it followed the money, and the travel industry was exploding.
He could have sent someone else but he didn’t, for three reasons. One, he was on a much needed break, so while it was a working vacation, it was also only a three on the stress scale, a business trip that he could blend with a little R&R. Given the chaos of his life, a three was as good as a zero. His doctor would be pleased.
At 45, Charles was saddled with a few health problems, all of which were stress related. Nine months earlier, he’d suffered a mild heart attack which scared the shit out of him. He took it easy for a month or so, but gradually the demands of work, once again, took precedence over his health. It was hard to avoid, seeing that he was the founder and CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation. Needless to say, he was pulled in a million directions.
“Sir, can I help you?” a young porter called out, waving him over. Charles, waved back and quickly approached the podium where the young man was posted.
“Hi there,” he greeted, loosening his tie, “I need a shuttle to the docks of Island Air Transfer?”
“Yes sir, w
hat time is your flight scheduled?”
“Scheduled?”
“Yes, yes. Did you pre-book your transfer?” the porter asked, picking up his clip board. “What is your name, sir?”
“Charles Reid. It’s doubtful that a pre-booking was scheduled. I was told that I could just go to the main office at the docks and get on a transfer flight once I arrived?” Charles insisted nervously, uncomfortable that things might not go as planned. He should have known better.
“It’s possible, but unlikely. The airlines are tracking a large tropical storm system that’s due to make landfall in a few days. It’s created quite a sense of urgency with travelers. The chances of you getting on a flight without pre-booking is slim,” the porter advised, looking up from his notes. “Perhaps you could go back inside the airport and use the complimentary wifi to book a transfer? You may be lucky and get one for tomorrow?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Charles argued, the heat suddenly even more unbearable. “Can you please double check the list, just in case?”
It was unlikely his name was on it, because Charles had booked the trip himself, insisting he could handle it when his personal assistant offered to take care of everything. Charles wanted anonymity on the trip, and some much needed privacy. The second reason he was traveling solo was that he didn’t want anyone to know the location of the property he was researching. He was certain there was a mole in his company, a rodent selling information to his competitors, and he wasn’t taking any chances. This location was a well guarded secret, and for good reason. It was prime real estate, soon to be on the market, and he was the first to see it.
“Sorry, I don’t see your name Mr. Reid. Please, go back inside the airport, sir, please. The longer you delay, the harder it will be to find a flight.”
Charles nodded his assent, albeit miserably, and stepped out of the way. He hated being at the mercy of fate, and a tropical storm definitely threw a wrench into his plans. He quickly made his way back into the airport, grateful for the cool air. Although it seemed stuffy when he waded through customs earlier, it was definitely more refreshing than the air outside.
He found a seat and fished his cell phone out of his jacket, turning it off airplane mode and quickly connecting to Wifi. Within several minutes he found the website for Island Air Transfer and tried to reserve the next available flight. To his dismay, they appeared to be booked solid. After several attempts, he grumbled to himself and dialed their number, hoping that a real person could offer him better news.
They didn’t. After ten minutes of calmly persuading, pleading, and coaxing, he was no better off than when he started. They couldn’t help him.
“Sir, may I make a suggestion?” the pleasant, young woman on the other end of the line offered.
“Please.”
“You could try an independent transfer company. I dare say, that might be your best bet. Most of the commercial companies are booked because of the storm. It will probably be expensive though,” she warned, oblivious to whom she was speaking.
Charles smiled broadly, pleased to be making progress. The last thing he needed was to delay his business. Once he got to the island, he could check out the site, and then relax with his hosts in luxury.
“Sweetheart, that’s a fine idea. Do you think you can make a few recommendations for me?”
It took a few tries, but Charles was finally able to book a seat on a privately owned, eight seater, Cessna Grand Caravan. The only flight time available was the next day at 18:00 hours (6:00 pm, to non-military folk), weather permitting of course. He actually spoke to the pilot himself, who aside from his grumpy demeanor, was actually quite helpful. True to the clerk’s promise, it was expensive, particularly because he was booking the last available seat, apparently on any flight, any where in the Fiji Islands. He was to meet Captain Grant at the docks no later than 17:00. If he was late, he would leave him behind. No worries there, Charles prided himself on punctuality.
Although the flight would set him back a day, he was satisfied with his itinerary, confident that he would have plenty of time to take care of business and still have several days to rest. He was just grateful he’d found a flight. What was he worried about? he thought. Fate always had his back.
* * *
He was able to book a suite at the Novotel Nadi. It wasn’t a five star, but his room was spacious and clean and they did offer a shuttle service from the airport, and another to the docks the next day. Seemed like a win-win. It had been a long day, but he wasn’t complaining. As far as traveling went, he’d been pretty pampered. The nearly twelve hour, first class flight would have been almost unbearable in coach. As it was, he had plenty of room to stretch out, and wanted for nothing. In spite of it being only 10:00 am, the only things he wanted were a full breakfast, a hot shower, and a long nap.
He picked up the phone and ordered room service, then jumped into the shower, with the promise that his meal would arrive within thirty minutes. He was never thrilled with the idea of going to the buffet by himself. In spite of his extensive traveling experience, he was rarely alone. He was accustomed to having at least a few people by his side, even if they were only staff or colleagues, and he preferred it that way. He liked company, especially in public. It kept him from dwelling on his loneliness.
Charles quickly washed his dark hair, then soaped up his toned body, grateful to rid himself of perspiration and the stale stench of travel. He wasn’t in bad shape considering he was forced to cut his work out routine in half, but certainly not as cut as he was in his thirties. Still, he didn’t have much to complain about. Genetics had been kind to him. He did have salt through his pepper hair, but thankfully he still had most of it. He looked and felt ten years younger than he was, aside from his tender ticker, and as long as he focused on reducing stress, he could live a relatively normal life. At least that’s what his doctor promised.
It was strange being single. He never planned, or wanted it, that way. He’d always imagined himself married with children. Unfortunately, none of his marriages ever resulted in offspring, aside from an ungrateful step-daughter from his last wife. She was a thankless, spoiled, young woman who took after her mother. That divorce ended up costing him a small fortune, but it was worth every penny to send them packing. In the three years they were married, his ex tried to embezzle millions from his company, with the help of daughter dearest. He was a patient and generous man, so their betrayal really threw him for a loop. If he was being honest, it might have been the fissure that finally broke his heart. It wasn’t long after the divorce papers were signed that he found himself in the ER, clutching his chest.
She had not been the only disappointment in his life. He had a knack for picking the wrong women, if three ex wives was evidence of that. Of course, he wasn’t solely blaming them, he wasn’t perfect either. Far from it. He was rarely home and spent way too much time building his empire, somehow trying to find his worthiness in a pile of money. It took a heart attack for him to start looking at his life, really dissecting it, to recognize that he wasn’t content. He had so many regrets and needed to start focusing on the things that made him happy, even if he didn’t have a clue where to begin .
That was the third reason for the trip. He was hoping the solitude, the time away from the chaos of his life, would offer some sort of divine guidance. An intervention if you will.
Life was too damn short.
Chapter 3
“Ryan, what’s next? Do you have any projects coming up?”
Ryan ran a hand through his blond hair and smiled his signature cheeky grin before offering the same canned answer he’d given the last six reporters who’d sat in front of him that day.
“I’ll be heading back to the States in a few weeks to start working on a film with Ethan McLaughlin. It’s an action flick, untitled as of yet.”
“You’ve been compared to Ethan a lot lately in the press. Your career is following the same parallels as his. It must be exciting to be working with him?” the
pretty Japanese reporter gushed.
“I imagine it will be. I’ve always been a fan,” he agreed, digging deep to find some enthusiasm.
He’d been at the press junket all afternoon, and normally he had no problem turning on the famous Ryan Watt charm, but he was worn out, and a little hung over. Tokyo had proven itself a crazy city. He’d been partying all night and was functioning on only a few hours of beauty sleep. All he wanted was to head back to his hotel room and crash, but as soon as he was done with the press, he had to collect his luggage and go to the airport.
He’d booked a romantic vacation for Trina and himself, a long over due holiday. They desperately needed some time together. He’d been so busy the past few months that they’d barely had any time together, not since his movie was released in the United States. Now he was on the foreign press junket for the movie release, and although she’d finally met up with him the day before, they’d barely seen each other. Things were a little tense between them and he was hoping they could rekindle the heat that had been missing for months. He hated that his professional success seemed to have an opposing effect on his private life. It was something he’d been struggling with since becoming a “star” and something he hoped to figure out soon.
“Just one more question. There’s been word you’re planning to ask Trina James a very important question. Is there any truth to that?”
He cocked his head and smirked, wondering how the hell such crazy rumors ever got started. He loved Trina but he was no where near ready for marriage, not yet.
“If the question is ‘what would you do if you were invisible for one day?’, I already asked her,” he quipped, drawing a giggle from his pretty interviewer.
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