Boracay Vows (Carpe Diem Chronicles 1)

by Maida Malby

  ***

  Aww. How could Blake know me so well already? A gift of diamonds wouldn’t have pleased her more than feeding her such a sumptuous breakfast. For that reason alone, she’d forgive him for re-arranging her schedule again.

  The jet skiing and parasailing were moved to Wednesday, and now they were at the spa, awaiting their couple’s massage. She didn’t argue, because it made a whole lot of sense.

  It took them the better part of two hours to work though half of what he ordered. By the time they finished eating, they were extremely full; they mutually decided that water sports were too strenuous, the weather was sweltering, and moving was overrated. So, they lazed on the sunbeds, talking and getting to know each other better. Krista grinned at some of their exchanges.

  Krista: “What kind of music do you like?”

  Blake: “Hard rock. The louder the better.”

  Krista: “Ugh! You’ll go deaf before you turn fifty. I adore musical theatre and movie soundtracks.”

  Blake: “What about movies?”

  Krista: “Duh! Disney cartoons and romantic comedies, of course.”

  Blake: “Of course. Action-adventure for me. I also like the old eighties classics.”

  Krista: “Me, too. I’m not very fond of the remakes, though. Do you like the latest Superman? You resemble him, you know?”

  Blake: “Really? I don’t see it. He’s all right. A bit wooden. Christopher Reeves is still the best Superman for me.”

  They did move after a while to let the servers clear the food away and to schedule their massage. They also walked to the spa, which was at the other end of the cottages.

  Truthfully, after the previous evening and this morning, she would pretty much forgive his bossiness if it was for her benefit. Last night was everything she had read about and more. She took the initiative and felt good about it. She shook her head. No, better than good. I feel powerful.

  As she promised herself, Krista had examined her conscience since she had done the deed. Her decision to give herself to Blake before marriage held no regrets. How could she be ashamed of something so beautiful—so natural? May the Lord forgive me, but I will not allow myself to feel sorry. She might’ve been guilty of the sins of lust and fornication, but she wasn’t penitent at all.

  “Ms. Krista? The therapy room is ready now. We’re sorry to keep you waiting.” The spa attendant had approached without her noticing. Krista waved away the apology and followed the attendant out of the women’s lounge, where she’d changed into a robe with a disposable pantie under it.

  Krista loved getting massages. Even before she could afford them, she went to the spa because her friends gave her gift certificates either for her birthday or Christmas.

  “Sir Blake is already inside. Your therapists will join you shortly. We hope you enjoy your massage treatment.” The attendant smiled at her and left. Did she just wink at me? Krista frowned, unsure what to make of that, if it was truly a wink and not simply a facial tic.

  She opened the door and found Blake wearing a robe like hers. She wondered if the guys also got disposable underpants. Maybe she’d peek when Blake turned over on his front later. She smiled at the naughty thought. Blake raised an eyebrow in inquiry at her smile, but she just shook her head and waved hi.

  The couple’s therapy room was a stand-alone hut, perched on top of a rock. On one side was the cliff, on another was a view of the sea. The third side faced another therapy hut, and the entrance was through a garden. The sea-facing side had a bamboo wall that could be opened completely during fair weather or closed when it rained. Today, it was open with a canopy of white curtains to keep the sun out of their faces.

  Two massage beds, covered in the standard white sheets, took up the middle of the room with enough space between them for two therapists to walk around or stand side by side. Soft music played from hidden speakers, too quiet to drown out the sound of the waves. The gentle breeze from the sea fanned the warm air around them and spread the fragrant scents of lavender and mint throughout the room. The tension in Krista’s body started to disappear as soon as she breathed in the scented air; the ambience soothed her instantly.

  Krista took off her robe and climbed onto the bed to lay face down. She turned her head to watch Blake as he copied her move, to get into position before the massage therapists’ arrival. He wore black briefs like her boy shorts. Nice.

  A quiet knock signaled the arrival of their therapists—two middle-aged ladies of short stature and muscular build. At the spa reception area, she and Blake had filled out questionnaires to indicate their preferences on the kind of treatment they wanted, what type of essential oil, the amount of pressure, and which points of concentration on the body. Krista opted for the local Hilot—the ancient Filipino art of healing.

  The ladies got to work at once without a word. She usually liked the masseuse to take a long time on her shoulder and neck areas, but today, Krista specified that she should linger on her lower back and upper thighs. Oh yeah, it was a brilliant idea to have this done today. She already felt a thousand times better than she had when she woke up.

  When the masseuse signaled it was time to turn over, she was startled to hear a soft snore to her right. She shared a quiet laugh with the ladies. Blake slept soundly on his massage bed. His masseuse looked proud of herself for doing an excellent job of relaxing such a tall and built guy like him. Krista gave her a thumb up sign.

  The gesture seemed to break the ice, because the ladies started talking to her. In hushed tones, they remarked in Tagalog, “Ma’am kayo po pala ang girlfriend ni Sir Blake. Ang swerte nyo naman.” You’re very lucky.

  “He’s not only handsome, but also generous to the staff.”

  Krista smiled at them and closed her eyes, unwilling to engage in a conversation she wasn’t comfortable having. The ladies got the meaning behind her silence and went back to their work.

  Am I Blake’s girlfriend? Yes, as of last night they were lovers, but being his girlfriend meant there was a commitment for exclusivity that they hadn’t quite made yet.

  Krista must have tensed up; the masseuse touched her shoulder gently, to nudge her into relaxing her muscles. She exhaled deeply, then told herself to stop the negative self-talk and get back to the state of Zen she was experiencing before Blake’s snore interrupted it. It worked. She could tease Blake about his snoring later. Right now, it was enough that it brought the smile back to her face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ligaw [lee-gao] v. – to court.

  Blake stood outside Krista’s cottage, a bouquet of purple calla lilies in his hand. They’d agreed to meet at six.

  "Blake, I hope you don’t mind if I take a nap," Krista had said when they arrived back at her cottage after the spa. “By myself,” she’d added apologetically. “Your snoring through your massage made it impossible for me to fall asleep during mine,” she joked cheekily.

  He had laughed and agreed, as he needed the time to complete his plans for their dinner date. And this time, it was a date as far as he was concerned.

  He’d researched online for the best flowers to give her. Once he found the perfect blooms, he’d had them flown to Boracay on the earliest flight this morning. The rushed delivery and the rarity of his choice had cost him extra; he didn’t mind paying it, especially if she liked his offering.

  Blake didn’t want to present her with roses, because he’d given those to other women. Krista was worthy of something more special, more out of the ordinary.

  He learned that the calla lily symbolized beauty, and that fit Krista perfectly. To him, she was undeniably gorgeous.

  While he liked the meanings behind the white and pink varieties—innocence and appreciation—he thought the purple suited her best. Purple denoted passion.

  More importantly, the calla lily represented a major transition, rebirth, or marking a new beginning. Truth be told, the flowers were significant for them both in all those aspects. Krista was not the only one seizing the day; he was, too.<
br />
  When she opened the door, he congratulated himself again for the rightness of his choice. Krista was a goddess in her white Grecian-style maxi dress with a gold braided belt knotted at the waist, and a pair of matching sandals on her feet. She looked awestruck by the bouquet he held in his hand.

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Lopez,” he said. “These are for you.”

  “They’re stunning, Blake.” She accepted the bouquet with one hand and reached up to touch his face with the other. She lifted herself up on tiptoes to press a light kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled widely, pleased by her response to his present. She clutched the bouquet in front of her chest and, although they had no scent, buried her nose in the long petals. Has she never received flowers before? “Do you like them, sweetheart?”

  “I love them,” she said earnestly. “No one has ever given me flowers before. These make up for all those times when I didn’t get any, so thanks again.”

  Her smile was so radiant, he couldn’t help but step closer to give her a one-armed hug, careful not to crush the flowers.

  “I’m glad,” he said, meaning it sincerely. “You’re a woman who deserves to receive beautiful things, and I’m happy to give them to you.”

  He raised her chin and gave her a soft but fiery kiss. She blushed prettily when they parted. Since she didn’t seem to want to let go of the flowers, he took her other hand and escorted her out to the beach, where the staff had set out a temporary gazebo outside his cottage.

  “Blake, this is incredible!” she exclaimed when she saw the romantic setting.

  The staff had outdone themselves. They assembled a domed wicker gazebo with wispy curtains that fluttered lightly in the wind. The rattan finish and dark gold trim of the panels matched the outside walls of the cottages. Inside the canopy were two brown wicker chairs with gold cushions. A glass-top pedestal table held two champagne flutes beside a wicker-covered chiller, which contained a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

  She turned to him in wonder. “What’s all these? The breakfast this morning, the spa, the flowers, and now this?”

  “Happy birthday, Krista.” As she started to protest, he pressed a finger on her lips. “I know, technically it’s not until tomorrow, but I want to pamper you today.” And every day if you’d let me. The thought popped into his mind. Whoa! Where did that come from?

  Shaking his head, he continued. “If you remember, my brother is coming tomorrow. Even though I hate to leave you, I should spend some time with him. I haven’t seen him since his promotion. And, I forgot to tell you that November 2nd is also Aidan’s birthday. Today, I want it to be all yours. Okay?” And I’m not even telling you about Maddie. Four is more than a crowd—it’ll be a freaking party.

  She nodded. “Okay. But you’ve gone to so much trouble. I’m not used to being spoiled like this.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.” He knew from their conversations that she’d grown up poor. Only in the past couple of years, since her financial situation improved, had she finally afforded the luxuries she was deprived of for most of her life.

  While his family wasn’t rich, they’d had a comfortable life. His position in the company and the investments he made over the years had given him a lifestyle most people envied. With no responsibility other than to himself, Blake had amassed a personal fortune that made him quite a catch for any marriage-minded female.

  That Krista wasn’t pursuing him for his wealth was one of the things he loved about her. Love? Is that what this is? Looking at Krista’s glowing face, he decided to table the deep thoughts until he was alone to process them. Right now, he had a birthday girl to pamper.

  ***

  Krista leaned back on the couch in Blake’s kubo, her head spinning. Not just from the champagne, but also from Blake’s heated kisses and caresses. After a heavy make-out session, he had gone to his room for some mysterious reason and told her to stay put.

  They had finished dinner and moved her birthday celebration into his cottage with the half-full bottle of champagne. It had gotten so dark outside, not even the tiki torches and candles were enough to provide the faintest illumination. Blake had thanked the staff and asked them to break down the temporary gazebo.

  Krista felt overwhelmed with the attention Blake had lavished on her. It was like he was courting her. He didn’t have to do that. She had already slept with him and would likely do so again tonight, and every night until their return to Makati.

  Their dinner was highly extravagant—fresh oysters on the half-shell for their appetizer; Caesar salad, filet mignon, and grilled lobster with in-season vegetables as the entrée; then crème brûlée for dessert.

  Blake certainly took note of their conversation on Saturday night during their not-a-date dinner. He’d asked her to describe her ideal date food, and tonight he’d delivered exactly what she wanted. No wonder he was so successful—he paid attention to details and had a phenomenal memory.

  “Baby, I have something for you.” Blake had returned from his room, hiding something behind his back. “I hope you’ll like it.” He sat down beside her and handed her a square box wrapped in red foil with a gold ribbon.

  Puzzled, she tore into the package. What she saw inside the box made her blush a deep red—books by one of her favorite romance novelists. It was the same author of the book she had in her nightstand, which she’d felt so defensive about with Blake. She hadn’t read the titles in her hand, because this series was the writer’s first foray into erotica. Krista liked the still-sexy-but-tamer versions better. She regarded Blake, who was waiting for her reaction. “Where did you find these?”

  “They were selling them at the Sari-Sari store,” Blake replied, naming Perlas’ sundry shop. Taken from the Filipino term for the neighborhood variety stores that were ubiquitous in the country, it was a decidedly humble name for such an upscale establishment.

  “Those are the only copies. I lucked out when I was searching for something to give you for your birthday. Do you like them?” He looked at her hopefully.

  “Uhm … yeah … Thanks. I’m sure I’ll read them sometime …” She broke off when he burst out laughing. “What?” she demanded. What’s the joke?

  “You should see your face. It’s so red. I thought you said you love reading.” She raised her fists to thump him in the chest, but he crossed his arms to block her. “Goodness, woman, you are so violent,” he said teasingly, laughter still ringing in his voice.

  Grabbing the champagne bottle, he stood and held his hand out to her. “Come, I’ll show you my real gift. I left it in the bedroom.”

  The man had an infuriating sense of humor. Taking his hand, she rose from the couch. She gave him another puzzled look when he handed her the champagne and reached for the discarded books. “Research material,” he said and winked at her. She couldn’t help but laugh with him. He is incorrigible.

  Krista was still smiling when she suddenly came to a stop at the threshold of Blake’s bedroom. On top of the white sheets sat a gold box with the signature of a famous shoe designer etched on it. She barely noticed as Blake caught the champagne bottle when she let it fall from her hand in her astonishment.

  “Go ahead, open it. I promise it’s real this time,” Blake said solemnly. She looked up at him and saw that he was serious: nervous, even. That was not the cause of her unease.

  She approached the bed and sat down on the edge, staring at the gift. Whatever was inside the box would be the most expensive thing she’d ever owned. These shoes sold for hundreds—even thousands of dollars. She felt stunned at the thought of owning something with a value that could feed so many starving people in this country.

  Guilt and greed warred inside her. Blake had his back turned to her, his hands in his pockets, head down. Her heart melted. She was making this proud man feel bad with her hesitation. It’s a gift, Krista, she scolded herself. An overly extravagant one, but a thoughtful gift made because he wants to please you. Accept the present, say thanks,
and just contribute to charity later to appease your conscience.

  She reached for the gold box and placed it on her lap. “Blake,” she called out, imploring him to turn around. When he did, she said, “Thank you. I’ve always wanted to have something like this. It’s extremely generous of you.”

  “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Open the gift. I really hope you like them.”

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the box and gasped. Inside, she found a pair of red suede Christian Louboutin pumps with pointed toes, ankle straps, stiletto heels, and the signature red leather sole. She took them out of the box and held them lovingly, her fingers caressing the luxurious material.

  She’d been drooling over these shoes for months, whenever she saw them in magazines and on the Internet. She never had any hope of affording them. The patent leather copy she bought from Marikina, the Philippines’ primary shoemaking district, was a poor substitute for the real thing.

  Eager to see how they fit, she put them on. Hmm. They feel so good on my feet. But, can I walk in them? That’s the real test, isn’t it? She stood up and promptly bumped into Blake.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Regalo [ray-ga-law] n. – gift.

  Seeing her wearing his gift turned Blake on so much that he couldn’t wait anymore. He closed the space separating them. He had to have her, right now. “They are perfect on you, sweetheart.” He gazed at her face instead of her feet.

  With the heels on, she was almost as tall as he. “Do you know why I got you these?”

  Krista shook her head.

  “The first time I knew I wanted you was when I saw you wearing a pair of red heels under your boring navy pantsuit.”

  He turned her towards the mirror in the bathroom and stood behind her. “That was when I realized that underneath the conservative librarian exterior was an alluring temptress, secretly craving to burst out.”