by R. R. Banks
A waiter steps up to the table and gives me a tight-lipped smile before placing a check face-down on the table. Sexy Martini flips it over briefly, folds it, and tucks it into his pocket as he moves to stand up.
"You should try one sometime," he says. "They're delicious."
He starts to leave, but I take a slight step to the side to stop him.
"Maybe we could have one together?"
"I actually just had dinner delivered to my room, so I'll have to pass. Thanks for the offer, though. Talk to the bartender about it. He makes the best I've ever had."
He gives me a single, terse nod that I take as his way of saying goodnight and steps around me to leave. The smile melts from my face. When I think of the attention he showed Olivia, I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. This isn't over.
Chapter Seven
Vincent
"Then I want you to get on the phone with them personally and figure out what's happening. Today. That expansion project was supposed to have started two weeks ago, and every second that goes by without work is costing money. I hate losing money. Even more than that, I hate to waste time, and this is wasting my time."
I slam the phone down and drop into my chair, digging my fingers back through my hair. Feelings of frustration and anger swell in my chest.
"What?" I snap in response to the quiet knock on my office door.
The door opens and Laurel steps in, looking at me with confusion.
"What's wrong with you today?" she asks.
"I'm not in a good mood," I answer.
"She's really getting to you, isn't she?"
I glare at her.
"Nobody is getting to me," I say. "Women don't matter to me."
The phone rings again and I pick it up just to slam it back down.
"Clearly."
"What do you want, Laurel?"
"A few people have called for reservations and I wanted to run them by you before I secured them. A couple of them have some special requests. One is planning a wedding and wants to know what we offer for wedding and honeymoon packages, and the other inquired about the policy about bringing children. She says that she knows it's not advertised as a family-friendly resort, but…"
"No," I say.
"No?"
"No weddings and definitely no kids. I offer a relaxing, luxurious retreat for adults wanting discretion and indulgence, and who are willing to pay out the ass for it. My guests don't need to have someone else's wedding shoved in their face or not be able to access amenities of the resort because of it. And they certainly don't need caterwauling children running around on the beach and ruining their romantic dinners."
"Her child is six months old."
"No kids."
Laurel walks over to the open office door and closes it sharply. She stalks across the office and slams her hands down on the desk, leaning over so that her face is only a few inches from mine.
"I'm going to say this in the nicest way possible, because you are my boss. But I also consider you my friend, which is why I'm going to say that you need to get your shit together. I've never seen you get this bent out of shape over some woman. Either get over her or figure out what you're going to do to fix it with her, because you are bumming me the fuck out."
She straightens and smooths her skirt.
"She's not just some woman," I finally say.
"Oh, for the love of – what did she do to you?”
"She didn't do anything," I grumble.
Laurel stares at me for a few seconds before I see her eyes widen and her mouth fall open slightly.
"Oh...she turned you down. She told you no." Laurel crosses her arms over her chest and nods, clearly impressed. "A woman actually said no to the great Vincent Preston. On his turf. Respect."
"I don't find that nearly as funny as you do."
"I don't think it's funny. I think it's amazing. But it still leaves you with the same choice. Cut your losses and go accept the not-so-subtle offers of the countless other women ready and willing to hand themselves over to you…"
"Or?"
She shrugs.
"Or figure out what you did wrong with this one and turn it around."
Laurel's words stuck with me throughout the day and resonate through my mind as I jog up the beach toward the path to Olivia's bungalow. I can only hope that she is there, and that Charlene doesn't answer the door. That would put me in a situation far too awkward to deal with. The lights are on in the bungalow as I approach, and I glance around to make sure they are not already outside.
The door to the bungalow opens before I even get onto the low porch. Olivia's silhouette appears against the light pouring out from inside. She pauses and the smile on her face fades when she sees me.
"Vincent," she says. "What are you doing here?"
"Good evening, Olivia," I say. "I came to apologize for my behavior last night. That was completely unacceptable of me. I hope you will allow me to make it up to you by inviting you to enjoy a late dinner with me."
"I've already eaten," she says.
"Just a walk, then," I say, using every bit of manners I can pull up from my memories of growing up among the elite in Virginia. "The weather is gorgeous tonight and I would love to show you the beach in the moonlight."
It isn't meant as a lascivious suggestion, but I see a touch of color come to her cheeks anyway.
"What are you doing, Olivia? Who are you talking to?"
I hear Charlene's voice inside the bungalow before I see her. She steps up beside Olivia and her eyes lock on me.
"Hello, there," she says. "What a nice surprise."
There's the awkward.
"This is Charlene," Olivia says, gesturing to her. "Charlene, this is Vincent."
"We've met," Charlene says, her eyes not moving from me as she takes one step down off the porch.
Except we haven't.
"Hi, Charlene," I say, letting some of the polish disappear from my voice. "I was just about to take Olivia for a walk. If she agrees, of course."
Olivia nods and I smile at her.
If looks could kill, Charlene's glare would have dropped me in an instant, but I don't care. I offer my hand and help Olivia down the steps to the walking path. Though I'd like to keep holding it, she removes her hand from mine as soon as she is standing beside me.
"I won't be late," Olivia says. "You girls have fun."
We walk away from the bungalow and I hear Charlene give a disgusted scoff before the door slams.
"Have fun?" I ask. "Are they going out again."
Olivia nods.
"We've been here for more than a week and…" she hesitates as if she is trying to come up with the right way to describe something, "...they have all slept at the bungalow every night."
"Ah," I say. "I understand. And they'd like to change that?"
"That's the plan. She won't talk about it, but we think that Charlene might have struck out last night."
I withhold my chuckle.
"Oh, really? Why do you think that?"
"She left the bar a bit after you did. We didn't see her again until we got back to the room and she was in a foul mood."
"That seems like a fairly common theme."
She glances at me and then back ahead of her.
"She's… a lovely person," she says.
"That was convincing."
She laughs before looking over at me sharply.
"She went after you, didn't she?"
I shrug, holding up my hands to show my innocence.
"I wasn't going to say anything."
Olivia shakes her head with a mirthless laugh.
"She is unbelievable."
"I thought she was lovely."
"Forget that. She's unbelievable." She glances over at me. "But at least she has good taste."
I can't help but smile.
"She does?" I ask.
"Where are we walking to?"
No double-dipping of the compliments from this one.
"Wel
l," I say as we walk across the sand over to an outcropping of rocks. "I was hoping you hadn't eaten already."
"I'm sorry."
I shake my head.
"It's alright," I say. "It's just that I planned something special for you."
I walk over to the rocks and pull out the blanket and picnic basket I had optimistically hidden there before going to her bungalow. Olivia smiles as I walk back toward her.
"A picnic?" she asks.
"I know it's not as fancy as the restaurant, but—"
"It's wonderful," she says. "Thank you."
"Maybe I could interest you in just a little snack?"
She nods.
"I didn't have dessert," she offers.
"Well, then you may be in luck." I set down the basket and spread the blanket on the sand. I reach for her hand, and we settle onto the blanket before I pull the basket toward me to open it dramatically. "It's mostly dessert."
Olivia laughs.
"Why is it mostly dessert?"
"Because we are adults and should always be allowed to eat dessert first. Besides, it's much harder to pack fine dining plated dinners into a picnic basket than it would seem. Brownies, strawberries, whipped cream, and cake are all far more flexible."
"That sounds delicious."
I unpack the sweets, leaving the ingredients for the cheese and fruit board tucked inside. When I am finished opening the containers, Olivia reaches for one of the square brownies. She takes a bite and groans with pleasure. I feel myself harden in response and shift to keep her from noticing. That is a sound I want to elicit from Olivia many, many more times.
"I brought sparkling juice," I tell her. "No alcohol."
She smiles as she swallows the brownie.
"Thanks," she says. "That was very considerate of you."
"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. That was never my intention."
I pour some sparkling juice into a flute and hand it to her.
"At least you’re making up for it tonight."
I can’t help but smile as she says it. There is a familiar lilt to her voice that reminds me of home.
"You sound like you're from Virginia," I say.
She takes a sip of her drink and looks at me with surprise.
"I am," she says. "Richmond, actually. Have you spent time in Virginia?"
I know the time I've spent away from my hometown has removed the accent from my voice, even though it will occasionally reemerge when I'm exhausted or drunk. I think about the question for a second.
"I've spent time in a lot of places," I tell her.
I don't know if the response will satisfy her, but she doesn't push, and I appreciate it.
"So, what brings you here?" she asks.
"The same thing that brought you," I tell her. "The resort."
She gives me a shy, enigmatic smile and I wonder what she's thinking.
"I didn't want to come here at first."
"Why did you? I know you said Charlene planned this trip because of a crisis in her personal life."
Olivia nods and looks down at the plate of strawberries in front of her. She seems to be contemplating something and is silent for a few seconds.
"She was supposed to be getting married next weekend."
"Supposed to be?"
"She and her fiancé had a difference of opinion about their marriage. She wanted to marry him, but he wanted to be with Bentley."
"Who's Bentley?"
"The cabana boy."
"That is a pretty significant difference of opinion."
She laughs and takes another sip of the juice as she picks up a plump strawberry.
"So, obviously the wedding is not going forward. But Charlene decided she still needed to have a getaway."
"Why did you have to come? Not that I'm not happy you did.”
"Because I'm her maid of honor. Was her maid of honor? I guess I have a rain check. She said that she needed her girls to be around her to help her through a hard time, so here I am."
"You sound like a pretty amazing friend."
"I don't know if I would go that far. I haven't been exactly thrilled to be with them."
"Not enjoying the hours spent resting poolside?" I ask.
She rolls her eyes.
"I have rested enough for a dozen vacations."
"Why don't you try some of the other activities?"
She sighs. "They want me to spend time with them."
"Really?"
I don't mean the question as negatively as it sounds. Fortunately, Olivia glosses past it.
"I'll admit, finding out how Charlene behaved last night makes me feel less committed to spending this entire vacation with her."
"I didn't even tell you how she behaved," I say.
She looks at me out of the corner of her eye and then focuses out over the dark ocean waves again.
"I've known her my whole life.”
That said it all.
At the end of the picnic, I pack everything back into the basket and tuck it under my arm as we walk back toward the bungalows. We walk close enough that our hands brush against each other. It happens again, and I take the opportunity to link our fingers lightly before taking her hand fully into mine. It feels good to envelop her tiny hand in my own. Her skin feels cool despite the warmth of the night and is impossibly soft against my palm. We walk to the bungalow and I stop before stepping onto the path that leads up to the front door.
"Come see me tomorrow afternoon," I say.
"Are you sure? You don’t have anything else to do?"
I laugh at the question and Olivia's careful dance around talking about my personal life or background. I don’t know if she was trying to avoid finding out more about me, or if she didn't want to make me uncomfortable. Either way, it was making it much easier to stay anonymous.
Even though for the first time, I could feel a tiny impulse of not wanting to hide.
"I’m free in the afternoon," I say. "Meet me then."
Olivia hesitates.
"I don't know."
"Think about it."
"I will." We gaze at each other for a few seconds before she glances down, a shy smile curving her lips. "Thank you for tonight, Vincent. It was wonderful."
Tucking two fingers under her chin, I lift her face up to look at me. My mouth slowly moves toward hers. I keep my eyes on her dark blue ones, watching her reaction to my touch. Finally, they flutter shut and her lips part slightly. I touch my mouth to hers. Her lips taste like chocolate and strawberries, and when I deepen the kiss, it’s as sweet as she is. As much as I want more, I don't want to push her too far, too fast. Pulling back from the kiss, I look into her face again. She smiles, and I stroke her cheek with the pad of my thumb.
"Goodnight, Olivia."
"Goodnight, Vincent."
I reluctantly pull away from her and walk back toward the main building. Dropping the picnic basket off at the restaurant, I leave without stopping by the front desk. I don't want to think about work. I want to go to my bungalow, alone, and think about Olivia.
Chapter Eight
Olivia
I can't stop thinking about that kiss. It was brief and lasted only a few, intense seconds, but I felt it through my entire body. I haven't been able to get Vincent out of my mind since. His request has tumbled through my thoughts what feels like a thousand times since I woke up.
"Olivia?"
The sound of Charlene's voice snaps me back into the moment, and I turn to look at her. She is holding a cup of coffee while staring at me with an expectant look on her face.
"Hmmm?"
"Are you paying any attention?"
"Of course, I am."
"Then what do you think?"
That Vincent's eyes look like the color of the ocean and he smells like a spice cabinet at Christmas?
"About what?"
She rolls her eyes. She is masterful at that. I've often wondered if she lacks some of the connective tissue that other people have, giv
ing her a greater range of motion to roll.
"I was saying that we should all go down to the beach this morning."
I nod.
"Sure.”
At least it's a change of scenery.
We change into our bathing suits and I slip a pair of shorts and a shirt on over mine. Even though we are just walking down a short distance to the beach, I can't bring myself to leave in nothing but my suit. We settle into a row of chairs and I burrow my toes into the sand. We've been sitting there for almost an hour when I feel something bounce off the skin of my lower leg. I reach down and brush at it, then sit back. A few seconds later, it happens again, and I look down to see what it is. Two smooth rocks sit in the sand beside my foot. Picking one up, I roll it around in my fingers. I feel the strange sensation again and realize that another rock has hit the sand by my foot and sprayed the grains up onto my skin. I look up, trying to figure out how the rocks got there. Not seeing anyone, I start to recline back before I glimpse movement out of the corner of my eye.
I look over my shoulder and see Vincent peek around a nearby palm tree. He waves and then disappears back behind the tree. I giggle before quickly glancing over at the women beside me to see if they noticed. Another rock hits the sand and I look at the tree again. Vincent's hand shoots out from behind the tree and one finger extends, beckoning me over. Covering my mouth with my hand to muffle another giggle, I check to see if any of my friends have their eyes open or are paying any attention to me. Once I feel confident that no one is watching, I slip out of my chair and jog across the sand toward the tree. When I get close, Vincent reaches out and grabs me by my wrist, pulling me up against him. I gasp but he holds his finger up to his mouth to quiet me.
"What are you doing?" I whisper.
"Trying to remain undetected," he murmurs back.
"Behind a palm tree?"
The tree is barely big enough to hide me if I stand sideways. Vincent's muscles have absolutely no hope.
"I've come to kidnap you."
"What?"
I'm a little too loud and out of the corner of my eye, I see Sandra shift in her seat, sitting up and looking over at my empty chair.
"Olivia?"
"I'm going for a walk," I shout toward them, captivated by the laughter in Vincent's eyes.
