Wish You Were Here (Postcards From Paradise)

by Amanda McIntyre

  “White?”

  “The napkins. White covers everything.”

  ***

  His eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Clearly, more time had gone by since last he’d seen her. The white bikini barely covering Maggie’s body left very little to the imagination. He stared down at her asleep in the hammock. Her hair was longer, its chestnut color tinged with blonde highlights. However, there was a maturity to her that he either didn’t remember or hadn’t noticed before. Her well-rounded breasts peeked up at him, unashamed. His fingers itched to touch them, and he had to remind himself that he was there to prove a point, not ogle his childhood friend’s incredible breasts. He blinked, reeling in a tinge of lust. “Hope you used plenty of sunscreen. That could be painful.”

  Her eyelids fluttered and the book she’d been reading slid from her hand as she awakened and realized she wasn’t alone. “What are you—“ she sat up and fished for her cover up. “Josh! Omigod!”

  He should have turned around. But it was Maggie--why should he? Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her lush fullness.

  She scrambled to cover herself and leapt out of the hammock, grabbing him around the neck and pressing her sun-warmed body to his. “I’m going to kill you, Josh Graham, but it’s so good to see you.” She hugged his neck tight.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Maggie-Moo.” He made light of how amazing her body felt in his arms.

  She dropped from his embrace and stepped back, looking around his shoulder. “Where’s Justine?”

  The warmth of her skin and her sweet cocoa butter scent blurred his senses. He rubbed the back of his neck, stalling to regain his composure. “Uh, she’s not here.”

  “Not here?” Her gaze narrowed. “She does know you’re here, right?”

  He made a face. “Yeah, of course she does. “ It wasn’t a lie.

  She realized he was staring at her breasts through the sheer cover up, and clutched her book to her chest as she peered up at him with a puzzled expression. “I don’t understand, then. Why are you here? You guys are in the throes of wedding planning. You should be there, not here.”

  “After our talk, I wanted to be sure that you were okay. The thought of you down here alone…well, I was a little concerned. Justine realized that. It was actually her idea that I come down.”

  Maggie studied his face. “Okay, so you’ve seen me and know that I’m fine. Now you can catch the next flight back to your fiancée and I’ll see you in a couple of months.”

  “Yeah, about that…I can’t.”

  She rolled her eyes and sighed.

  This was not going as well as he’d hoped. He’d expected to find her rolled in a ball, crying her eyes out. Instead, she was sleeping half-nude on her private beach, looking like some sea nymph washed up on shore.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Well, two reasons, mainly. First, I lost my wallet between here and the airport.”

  “Josh, seriously, you should super-glue that to your person.”

  Okay, so it wasn't the first time he'd lost his wallet. He held up his hands. “I’ve already given a statement to airport security and all I need to do is stop my bank and credit cards, which I planned to do as soon as I found you. Did you happen to bring a laptop with you?” He looked around at the vacant stretch of beach. If a golf cart shuttle hadn’t brought him here, he’d have thought they were on a deserted island. “More importantly, do you get Wi-Fi out here?”

  “Good lord, Josh.” She shook her head and dropped her arms to her sides, revealing the image of her soft brown breasts. She must have been tanning back home. He swallowed.

  “My laptop is up at the Villa.” She started around him, leading him up the narrow path strewn with palm leaves. “What’s the second reason?”

  He followed, unsure how to explain the notion that even now he found totally unfounded. She stopped suddenly and turned to face him, placing him chest–to-chest with her. He really wished she hadn’t done that. Josh swiped his hand over his mouth, searching for the right way to explain the second reason he was there.

  “Josh?” Maggie gave him a pointed look.

  He looked up at the crystal blue sky peeking out from between the tropical leaves. “You aren’t going to believe this.”

  “Try me.”

  “Justine has this crazy idea that I needed to come see you because of some unrequited thing she thinks I have for you.”

  After a moment, she turned and walked a few steps before turning back to face him. “That’s silly.” She pushed the hair from her face. Even without make-up, she was pretty. Why hadn’t he seen it before? He realized that to a teenager, the idea of pretty was largely limited to the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, which clearly Maggie could now pull off in a heartbeat. But that was beside the point.

  Her amber-colored eyes with tiny gold flecks--had he ever noticed that before?--looked up at him. “I’ll spot you the plane ticket home and you can tell Justine she’s mistaken.”

  “I know, right? I tried to tell her. But she insisted—“ His gaze was drawn to the open-doors of the villa ahead of them. Maggie led him up the steps to a small veranda looking out over the water. They weren’t kidding about paradise in the Keys. “Is this your place?”

  “Romantic, right. Almost makes me dislike that bastard ex-fiancée a little less. Come on in. I need a shower. Make yourself at home. My laptop is on the table. Password’s, Maggie-Moo.”

  He smiled. It was the nickname he’d given her back in high school. He started to say something, but heard the sound of a shower being turned on. Spotting the laptop, he grabbed the chair and focused on the task of saving his identity. It was far safer than thinking of Maggie with the water sluicing over her tan, naked flesh.

  Chapter Two

  Maggie lathered herself from head to toe, trying ineffectually to wash away the memory of the comment that Josh had made. The very idea brought back a mountain of painful memories, of a time when she’d decided that she’d fallen for Josh Graham, and that if the timing were ever right, she’d allow him to make love to her. Of course, that was more of a fantasy than anything else--until the night of their senior prom. Her breasts tingled as the tepid water, cooled her sun-kissed skin. Those feelings and that fantasy had quite unexpectedly arrived on her doorstep in the middle of her own island paradise in a buff, very grown-up male form. She was no longer the geeky girl needing to shy away from glancing at him in public. This was her domain, her life, her choices now. But what on earth would have given Justine the idea that he should come down here just months before the wedding, unless she was uncomfortable about his behavior?

  She rinsed her hair, stepped out of the marbled-tiled shower, and wrapped a towel around her, only realizing then that with the open floor plan, she’d have to walk right through the dining room to get to the bedroom. Maggie cracked open the door to call to him, and gasped when she met his handsome face.

  “Sorry. Do you hyphenate Maggie Moo, or is it all one word?”

  She closed her eyes, finding her calm. There was no reason she couldn’t deal with him being here like the adult friend that she was. The sooner he got his affairs in order and booked a flight back to Justine, the better for them both. “Could you just…turn around, please?”

  An ornery grin, one like she remembered from when he was younger, broke out on his face. Now it was goddamn sexy. She groaned inwardly.

  “Mags, I’ve just seen you in your all-together, sleeping in hammock on a beach. How is this any different?”

  “Because I’m awake, you dope.”

  He raised his dark brows rose high on his forehead, then reluctantly turned around and crossed his arms.

  “Must you stand there?” she asked, cinching the towel around her to cover up as much as possible.

  “Does it make it you uncomfortable?”

  Any other time, his joking around would have prompted laughter, but right now she couldn’t tell him what a welcome sight he was and how she’d turn back the hands of
time if she could to have another chance with him.

  “Go check flights, Mr. I’m all-that-and-a-bag-of-chips. We need to get you back on a plane tonight.”

  He made no response. Instead, he walked to the table and picked up a bottle of beer, taking a long swallow. Apparently, he’d taken up her offer to make himself at home.

  A few moments later, she turned off her hairdryer and heard a loud clap of thunder. Late afternoon storms were not unusual down here, or so she’d been advised when she checked in. The sound was sure to capture a reaction from her guest, a guy raised in tornado alley.

  “Maggie?” he called from the next room.

  “Yeah?” She stepped into the room feeling more confident with more clothes on. She’d slipped on a pair of cut-off shorts and a roomy t-shirt over her cotton camisole. Through the large paned windows, she saw a bank of storm clouds rolling in over the ocean. The breeze had picked up, rattling the bamboo shades over the open windows in the living room.

  “Do you think we’re safe here? I mean, maybe we should move somewhere. I dunno, more inland, maybe?” Josh’s gaze bounced from her laptop to the view outside. A large palm leaf blew up, slapping against the window. He shot her a concerned look that melted into something more, something she couldn’t put her finger on.

  It took her breath away. She held his gaze, confused by what she saw in his eyes.

  “My God, Maggie. It’s been a long time.”

  Translation; you look a whole lot better than you did in high school. He was right. She’d taken more care of herself after leaving home. The confidence she’d always had in her academics shifted to other areas. But in many ways, she was still the same girl he knew back then. She pretended not to notice that he followed her every move as she lowered the windows, leaving them open a crack for fresh air. “We’ll be fine. I guess storms like this flare up and then, before you know it, they’re gone.” She looked away as she realized how parallel her words were to the sparks of attraction she sensed between them. “I see you found the beer.” She nodded toward the bottle.

  “Uh, yeah. “ He blinked and stood, checking out the window on his way to the kitchen. “I think I need another. You want one?”

  “Sure, but let me fix us something to go with it.”

  He stood and his eyes met hers, knowing instantly that she was thinking of the last time they drank together.

  “You like lobster nachos?”

  “Sounds good. I’ll try anything once. By the way, departures have been delayed due to the incoming storm. I’m going to have to wait, anyway. I’d rather wait here, if you don’t mind. Give us a chance to catch up.”

  “Sure.” Another clap of thunder caused them both to look up at the vaulted ceiling. The woven blades of the fans above softly stirred the air.

  “You’re sure this toothpick hut can handle the wind?” He smiled and twisted off the caps of both beers.

  Maggie flipped on the television to check the local weather. A strip ran across the bottom of the screen that was playing a rerun of the Golden Girls. “Says the storm is moving quickly north and should be out of the immediate viewing area by late evening. Looks like you might still be able to catch a red-eye after the storm passes.” She flipped off the television and dropped the remote on the coffee table.

  He handed her the bottle and tapped his to hers. “To good friends, then.”

  “To good friends.” She skirted around him and headed to the kitchen to make enough food to ensure that even a keg of beer wouldn’t affect their senses.

  A few hours later, with the storm whipping the trees outside, they sat at the kitchen table, reminiscing about his glory days. “You know, you seem to remember high school far differently than me,” she said. She pointed her longneck at him and stuffed another carrot stick in her mouth. They’d lit a few candles just in case, but in truth, Maggie loved their earthy scent. The lights flickered as they’d been doing for the past hour.

  “I don’t know why I didn’t see back then how beautiful you are.”

  She met his gaze. His dark eyes glittered in the dim light. “Oh, please,” she joked. “I was never your type.” The truth in that comment stung a part of her heart that she’d closed off for many years. She took a sip of her second beer--or was it her third?

  “Yeah, I must have been plain stupid.” He leaned back and rubbed his hand over his chest. He blew out a sigh. “Geez, I forgot all about calling Justine to tell her I was here. Damn. I blame your boobs.”

  Maggie’s beer spewed forth and she covered her mouth, swallowing the beer and her laugh. “Sure, blame me.”

  He fished in his pocket and found his cell phone. “I do. There aren’t many bars down here.” He squinted at the small screen.

  “Actually, there are quite a few if you know where to look.” It felt like old times cutting up with him.

  A grin curled his lip, producing that sweet dimple she remembered. “I’ll text her. Maybe that will get through.”

  “Please leave out the part about the boobs. I’d like not to get hit by wedding cake when I see her.”

  He nodded and his thumbs flew over the keypad.

  Maggie waited, feeling a touch guilty that she was sitting here in the middle of paradise with Justine’s intended, eating and drinking and having a whee of a time. All the food she’d made to ensure her sense of reason and nobility stayed clear, was failing miserably in light of the fact that the old flame she’d thought extinguished had suddenly rekindled.

  She should stop drinking.

  “Another beer?” Josh flipped his phone shut and walked to the fridge. His large physique could carry the effects of another beer. She wasn’t as sure about herself.

  “I should be careful. You know how I get.”

  He chuckled and turned a wicked gaze to hers. “I do. That’s one of the reasons I came down here to make sure you didn’t get into trouble.”

  “And what about you, Josh Graham? You are trouble with a capital T.”

  “I’m a big guy, Maggie-Moo. I’m not about to let you take advantage of me.”

  Her cheeks warmed. Of course, she was being silly. The man was in love with a beautiful, accomplished woman. “Sure, you say that now,” she attempted to tease. The truth was, his unexpected presence had thrown her for a loop. Too many memories clouded her brain; too much left unfinished still lingered in her heart.

  A loud clap of thunder sounded and, as though adding to her dangerous dilemma, the lights went out. The fans above slowed to a stop. Maggie waited, her heart thudding slowly against her ribs.

  Josh stood frozen in place, bottles in hand. After a moment, he sauntered back to the table. “Looks like the power is out.”

  “Brilliant deduction, Sherlock.” She walked to the front door, opened the plantation-style shutters, and peered out the screen into the inky blackness. She couldn’t even see the cottage a few hundred yards through the trees. A set of headlights appeared through the dark, bouncing over the terrain. Shortly thereafter, a narrow beam of light made its way up the path. She stepped out onto the porch to greet their visitor.

  “Just coming by to check on everyone out here. We’ve had a little problem with the transformer. Shouldn’t be too long before we have the power back on.”

  “We’re fine, thanks,” Josh called from the open door.

  Maggie turned to look at him. “Yes, we’re fine, thank you.”

  “Ok, I’d advise you to stay inside. At least until daylight. There’s lots of debris blowing around. Probably power lines down, as well. We urge you to be cautious.”

  “Thanks,” she called after his departing form, considering more than the storm itself

  Maggie stepped inside, fastened the latch on the door, and turned to find Josh standing close behind her.

  “Guess that means I won’t be leaving until morning.”

  She pressed her lips together, fisting her hands at her sides. She wished like hell she’d eaten more nachos, because she surely wasn’t thinking rationally.
/>   ***

  Maggie nodded and started around him, then stopped. “Listen, given what Justine thinks; let’s just get this over with. We’ll clear the air, so it’s not weighing on our minds like some elephant in the room.”

  Josh looked around the room, not quite certain where she was going with her reasoning. But he knew one thing--he’d been fighting an unholy attraction to her since seeing her in that hammock. What kind of guy did that make him? He scratched his chin, deep in thought over his situation. The beer was partly to blame for his muddied brain. What had begun as simple lust had clearly evolved into something else—something more forbidden--over the course of the afternoon. The more they talked about the past they’d shared--the memories, the people they’d known--the more he realized how relaxed he was around her. How well she knew him, enough to joke around with him. He and Justine didn’t have that. They didn’t kid around. He couldn’t remember ever hearing Justine’s genuine laughter.

  He realized with some concern that they rarely did anything spontaneous…anything. And in the short span of a few hours, it was as if he and Maggie had picked up where they’d left off in each other’s lives. For the first time in a long while, he felt as though he was interesting to someone again. Confusion racked his brain--and other parts, as well. He fought not to stand there and make comparisons between the two women. He was angry that Justine had suggested this idea, and yet afraid that she might be right.

  “Get what out of the way?” he finally asked. Of course, he knew damn well, what she meant. He just didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. Chicken shit.

  Taking the bottle from him, she set it down then grabbed his shirt in her fist and pulled his face to hers. She planted a firm kiss on his lips. However, before he had time to enjoy it, she let go, stepped back, and handed him his beer.

  “There. That’s settled. Now. How about a game of dominos?”

  He blinked a couple of times. Like hell it was settled—far from it. He dropped the bottle, aware it clattered to the floor, grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. Without thought of the consequences, he cupped her face and captured her mouth in a soft but thorough kiss. It left him wanting more. Damn you, Justine. He lowered his lips to hers, needing to know if the storm raging inside him was real. Her fingers grasped his forearms. She didn’t pull away, didn’t try to stop him, instead responding with kisses that made him itch to get out of his clothes. Did she feel the same?