“Is that why you’re so determined to save me?” Her lips curved in a soulless smile.
Is that what I’m doing? Saving you? Or redeeming myself? He turned toward her. “Maybe. I see the signs I missed with her.”
“What signs?” She stood, pacing restlessly to the other side of the room, pausing by the minibar and pulling out a tiny bottle of wine. She held it up. “Sangria. Want to share?”
“Not much there.” He stretched his legs out. How exactly had they gotten to this point? From her raging despair to his confession to a sudden friendly détente. Yet it felt like a normal progression. Like it was meant to be.
She glanced at her watch. “We’re going to be late if you wait for me.”
“I’ll call Tony. We’ll meet them at the restaurant.” He appeared unconcerned.
She set the small bottle aside. “You’re not going to let me out of this, are you? Why can’t you just accept that I’m not worth saving?”
“Because I don’t believe it.” He pulled out his phone and began punching buttons, scrolling through emails. “I’ve known you a long time.”
“Not really. Nora knew me. And you definitely don’t know me now.”
“Fine.” He set the phone aside. “Then tell me. What changed? Why don’t I know you now?”
She bit her lip, looking away. “I’m not ready to tell you that.” Her face crimsoned as if in shame.
He nodded. “Then I’m not leaving you alone.”
She stood for a moment, looking indecisive. Finally she broke the silence. “I’m going to take a shower.”
“I’ll be here.” He picked up his phone again, pretending to check emails until he heard the shower start. Then he dialed Tony’s number.
“Logan. Everything okay?” The anxiety in his friend’s voice might have made Logan feel guilty if a sense of inevitability hadn’t pervaded him so thoroughly.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine, but we’re running late. Rachel was a little more—” messed up “—exhausted than I’d taken into consideration. Go on to the restaurant. Ramon knows you’re coming. Enjoy a few drinks and an appetizer. We’ll be there as soon as possible.”
“Okay, man. See you in a while.” Tony’s easy acquiescence filled Logan with gratitude. He hoped it meant his friends had decided to support him, even if they didn’t agree with him. He’d noticed Tony’s cautious attitude earlier. And forget Lydia or Stacey. They were so obviously suspicious of Rachel it was no wonder she’d broken down after meeting them.
But that wasn’t fair, either. Lydia had been his friend for a long time, and Stacey was easily one of the fairest, most intelligent women he’d ever met. If these women were apprehensive of Rachel’s motives, they were just trying to protect him. Logan focused on gratitude for his friends. “Yeah. Thanks.”
He hung up and sat looking at his phone for a moment, lost in thoughts about his friends, his wife, the woman behind the bathroom door. Who would emerge from the shower, anyway? Would it be the real woman with the mysteriously broken heart or the sexy nymphomaniac with the fine sheen of diamond-like armor guarding her heart? And which would be easier to deal with?
Chapter 4
Rachel studied her reflection in the mirror for several minutes after her shower. Her first impulse was to apply the makeup she’d adopted recently. Bright lipstick, brazen blush, heavy mascara—a mask intended to hold others at a distance. Something about it didn’t seem right, though. Instead, she contented herself with a little concealer to mask the shadows of sorrow under her eyes, a softer reddish-pink lipstick and just a little eyeshadow and mascara. She studied the result in the mirror. Not quite the almost-soccer mom she’d previously been. A little sexier, but not nearly the woman who’d lured a young Spanish stud into her bed.
Great. Now how do I dress? She studied the sundresses in her closet. She’d purchased most of them for the trip. They were nowhere near what she’d have worn before—before everything fell apart. Not that she wanted that, anyway. Her eye fell on a white dress buried in all the bright colors. White. The color of virgins. The color of mourning. Strange that the two shared something. She touched the dress and something about her red fingernails against the purity of the fabric pleased her. She pulled it over her head and studied herself in the mirror, arranging the light off-the-shoulder ruffle. If she pulled her black hair into a side ponytail and bound it with the pearl band from her wedding, the simplicity would suit the cut and color of the dress while providing dramatic contrast.
Taking a deep breath, she turned toward the door. She hadn’t anticipated meeting Logan’s friends, let alone spending the evening with them. She wished she could be alone with Logan, preferably behind closed doors. But then she hadn’t anticipated his charged confession, her own inadequate attempt to ward him off, the amazing kisses and caresses they’d shared.
A light knock on the door startled her and she turned. “Come in.”
Logan opened the door but didn’t cross the threshold. He surveyed her with satisfaction. “You look better.”
“Do I?” She took a step toward him and he produced a rose, seemingly from thin air. She paused, a smile making its way onto her face. “You’re determined to make me believe, aren’t you? Why is that so important to you?”
“It’s not important to me, in particular. But if you don’t believe in magic, it’s hard to face life, isn’t it? Some things you just have to take on faith.” He brushed the rose against her cheek before handing it to her. “If you don’t have faith, you don’t have much to live for.” He turned his hands over and back again, put them together and pulled them apart with a flourish that produced another rose, white this time. He held it out to her with a little bow.
She took the rose, placing it against the first, a study in white and red. Faith seemed a long way from the life she’d led for the past few months. Since Kevin. She steeled herself for the sharp pain of betrayal and loss at the thought of her ex-husband, but it didn’t come.
She thought of the call from Angela. Her sister had sounded honestly worried about her, and a faint stirring of emotion made her frown. I never planned to forgive her. Or him, for that matter. What they did was unforgivable.
But then, too, she’d made them pay. Him, anyway. Kevin, a successful criminal lawyer, should have been living in a mansion with every comfort life could offer him. Instead he was shacked up with her sister in a tiny two-bedroom condo, half of his income earmarked for alimony, most of his possessions gone now and the four bedroom, three-and-a-half bath brick home on the river—his dream house—closed up until she chose to come home. If she ever did.
Yeah, she’d won that court battle.
At one time, the thought had brought her some measure of satisfaction, but now it fed the darkness inside her, just as the sexy young men had done. She didn’t want to think about the darkness anymore. She buried her nose in the scent of the roses and closed her eyes, searching for faith. A tiny blue-white light. She smiled a little. Whatever she’d done right or wrong, that moment when she’d held a star certainly tried to brighten even the dark corners of her soul.
But can it? Really? The answer came almost instantly. Only if you believe it can.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. Only inches apart, she could feel the heat of his body. Just an hour before, she would have welcomed this proximity but in her current vulnerable state she found herself backing away. “What’s for dinner?”
Taking the hint, he straightened and took a step back. “I’m actually pretty proud of that, actually, and I’m going to keep it a secret.” He grinned. “Fortunately for my friends, I was already planning to impress you, so they get an opportunity to see my latest creation, too.”
“Well, now I am intrigued.” She set the roses aside and took his arm. “Won’t you show me?”
She was a little surprised when he didn’t lead her to the parking lot for a golf cart. Instead he chose one of the paths to the beach. She paused at the end of the boardwalk. “Um, is this a long walk?�
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He glanced down at her feet. “High heels? Who wears high heels to the beach?”
“Well, if you’d mentioned that your latest invention—”
“Creation.”
“—involved a hike on the beach, I might have opted for more appropriate footwear.” She surveyed the sandy shoreline in despair.
He laughed. “No worries. Take ‘em off.” To illustrate, he kicked off his own loafers, leaving them by the steps.
“Those look expensive.”
“Nobody’ll take them.” He bent, taking first one foot, then the other and slipping her high-heeled sandals from her feet with expert fingers.
She shivered a little at the contact of his fingers against the sensitive skin of her calf, but when he glanced up, she flashed him an unconcerned smile. “Okay, but if my Jimmy Choos get washed out to sea, you’re buying me another pair.” She sighed in contentment. “I have to admit, that does feel better.” She grinned at him. “Not that a man could understand.”
“There’s nothing like the feel of sand between your toes. That I do understand.”
She glanced sideways at him, unable to contain a little smile. She couldn’t even remember what he’d been like back in his heyday as a magician. She’d only seen him a few times, and those had been with a lot of other people. Usually at a dinner or party or something Nora had set up.
Nora wasn’t hard to remember, though. Rachel remembered feeling her friend was all grown up, throwing dinner parties, married to a wildly handsome and successful man. She was a far cry from the wild child of their teenage and college years. But she’d always seemed happy, and for the life of her, Rachel couldn’t find it in herself to understand what had happened to change that. Not really. If anything, Nora’s was a life to envy. Beautiful home, new baby. During the time Rachel had spent with her friend after Jasmine’s birth, Nora had seemed quieter than usual but not especially sad. Tired and maybe a little wistful when she held the baby, but not depressed.
And Logan still blamed himself. One memory stood out clearly in Rachel’s mind from that time. His face when he came home. The grief and guilt in his eyes when he took baby Jasmine from her grandmother’s arms. He’d just stood there for several minutes in the midst of the knot of people who’d loved Nora so much and waited for him to comfort them. And then he’d handed the baby back to Nora’s mother and dropped into a chair, covering his face.
Rachel could still see that man in the one beside her. But not the magician, at least not the stage magician he’d been. The grand illusionist whose shows had entertained and charmed thousands, whose career had been on the fast track to Hollywood and beyond. Yet she had a feeling that if she let herself he could make her believe in magic.
Her toe stubbed on something in the sand and he caught her arm to steady her. “Sorry. Are you tired?”
“No. Just—” She looked around, realizing how far they’d walked. “Are you sure we’re going in the right direction?”
He flashed her a grin that reminded her a little of the man he’d once been. “Pretty sure.” He pointed to a dune that jutted out a little further than the others. “It’s just around that bend.”
“Okay, but my pedicure won’t be the same after this.” She let him tuck her hand through his arm, glad for the support as they resumed the trek.
Sure enough as they approached the dune, she heard music and laughter, and when they rounded the bend, she stopped short in amazement. Light spilled out from the little beach bar onto the sand. “You built this?” She glanced over her shoulder. At his pleased nod, she added, “It’s beautiful.”
It was. The roof was covered in real thatched straw, but she suspected it had better roofing material beneath. Three sides were open to the lovely night breezes, but she could see glass doors folded back against the sturdy wooden posts at each corner. The third side was solid with swinging doors that led into the kitchen. A bar faced forward toward the ocean and was decorated with lights of every color. Colored lights in the corners of the bar and tiki torches around a patio with a fire pit completed the oasis of light on the dark beach. Rachel thought the effect of the warm firelight and the colored lights combined in a way that reminded her of the “star” she’d held in the glass. Was that just last night?
The laughter was coming from the patio around the fire and Logan led Rachel to the small group gathered there. “Logan!” Stacey stood at his approach. “This is wonderful. I’m so glad we get a chance to see it first.”
“You’ve outdone yourself this time, my friend.” Andre shook Logan’s hand. “This place will be in every guidebook by the end of the year, I predict.”
“What are you calling it?” Lydia asked the question Rachel realized she’d wanted to ask all along.
“I’ve considered several names.” Logan stepped behind the bar, surveying his friends’ drinks. Rachel noticed that he poured both Stacey and Tony fresh club soda before producing a pitcher of Sangria and pouring some for the rest of them. As he handed her a glass, he added, “I thought maybe you could help.” His smile felt like it was all for her, but then he turned and addressed the rest, “Suggestions?”
Everyone seemed up for the challenge. By the time a pretty young waitress delivered the fish tacos, Stacey had suggested La Joya or The Jewel, Lydia opted for Arena Pura (Pure Sand), and Tony and Andre were arguing over Hermosa Vista or Vista Linda as a tribute to the beautiful view. Of the suggested names, Lydia leaned toward Stacey’s tribute to the jewel-like light.
“You haven’t said much, “ Andre smiled at her. “Any opinion?”
She opened her mouth to say she felt La Joya would be perfect but hesitated, glancing at Logan, who leaned on the bar, his expression noncommittal. “What about Estrella de Mar?”
“Sea Star.” Logan nodded with a little smile. “I like that.”
“It’s perfect.” Stacey’s smile warmed Rachel almost as much as Logan’s. She smiled back while the others murmured assent.
“That’s it then.” Before anyone could react, Logan pulled out a bottle of club soda and poured champagne glasses full of it. “I hereby christen this bar Estrella de Mar.”
They all drank solemnly, then Lydia turned her unsettling green eyes on Rachel. “So what made you think of that name? Not that it’s not perfect, but I get the feeling there’s more to the story.”
“It was…something Logan showed me.” Rachel shot him a glance and found herself ensnared by his gaze, suddenly too intense to look away from. Only when Andre cleared his throat did she remember that there were others in the room and she quickly redirected the question. “Which reminds me. The island’s name. Isla Foriscura. I’ve looked it up but I can’t find a meaning.”
“Excellent question.” Andre turned to their host, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “I’ve often wondered the same thing. Where did the name come from?”
“The name came with the island, actually. It’s been called that for centuries. I asked around a little on the mainland once, and close as I can get, it’s Latin.” Logan leaned on the bar, looking mysterious. “And it comes with a story.”
“Well, don’t keep us in suspense. Latin for what?” Tony set his glass on the bar.
“And the story, please.” Rachel spoke without thought, but her words brought an approving smile from Logan. He’d obviously been waiting to be asked.
“Let’s go outside if you want the story.” Logan beckoned them to the table set with their dinner. Only after they were seated did he continue. “The name means, literally, ‘outdoor cure’. Foris is the latin word for outdoors and ‘cura’ evidently comes from the Latin word curatio for cure. The story is that after the fall of the empire, a Roman soldier came here. He was wounded and weary from his travels and the war, and he thought he was looking for a place to die in peace. The locals took a liking to the man, so they helped him reach this island, set him up with food and a temporary shelter, tended his wounds and left him. They thought he would die peacefully after settling up with his gods bec
ause, as the story goes, infection had set in and he was near death. A week later, a man from the village came to bury the soldier, but what he found wasn’t a corpse. The soldier, instead, had recovered completely and was fishing and hunting. Supposedly the soldier refused to leave his new island home except to trade in the village and he eventually married one of the native women and brought her here to live.”
“That’s why you came here.” Rachel had been so drawn into his story she had almost forgotten where they were.
Logan focused on her. His words were simple. “No. It is why I stayed here, though.”
“And bought the island and started one of the most popular resorts off the coast of Cancun. Yadi yada.” Tony waved his hand as if to dismiss the story.
Lydia swatted his hand down. “Don’t be a dick.” At his hurt look, she smirked. “My love.”
“Whatever. Just trying to lighten the mood.” Tony leaned over and kissed his fiancée lightly.
Kevin had never done that. Not in a group. Rachel felt an odd yearning for that sort of intimacy. The kind that didn’t care who was watching. What the hell brought that on? She stood, swayed, off-balance for some reason that had nothing to do with the sangria.
Logan stood, too. “You okay?”
She nodded, mute for a moment, finally finding words. An excuse and an escape all in one. “The, um, bathroom?” She looked at him appealingly. Please let me go.
“In the back.” His furrowed brow indicated he’d picked up on something else in her voice. She nodded, stumbling away.
In the bathroom—a spotless black and white marble room that contrasted nicely with the bar’s overall rustic appearance—she leaned on the sink for a moment, feeling giddy and a little sick. What’s wrong with me? She remembered the concern in Logan’s voice, the way he’d caught her arm to steady her and her stomach did another flip that didn’t bode well for the fish tacos.
Island Magic Page 5
