When a Lover Calls: A Romantic Suspense Novella (A TURQUOISE BEACH MYSTERY Book 1)

by Jane Preston

  “Well spoken, Maureen. Let’s go ahead and schedule your next session. In the meantime, if you have any more experiences which activate your emotions, please continue to do the workouts. And, as always, call me anytime if you have questions or concerns.”

  The psychologist rose from her seat, smoothing out the wrinkles in her straight-legged, tan slacks. “Oh, and there’s a potential bonus to all this hard work, Maureen. I think that, as a novelist, you’ll have a special appreciation for it.” Dr. Brice paused for effect, watching Maureen, who was slowly getting up from the sofa. “In addition to being closer to your feelings, you should be able to tap far more easily into your natural creativity. Your writing will probably start to flow.”

  “Now, that I can definitely appreciate, Dr. Brice,” Maureen joked, as she gathered her purse and headed to the office door.

  Still, the frustrated novelist couldn’t help but think as she approached her car: If only Amber and Jared could hear that.

  ***

  Amber and Jared must have heard. For the first time in weeks, they began to cooperate with their author, warming up to each other, even becoming appropriately intrigued, as their cute-meet on the Hawaiian beach proceeded with romantic promise.

  Maureen was thrilled. Having arrived home two hours ago, she’d felt an irresistible urge to go straight to her office, turn on her laptop and pursue some sizzling, creative new ideas for world building in the novel.

  It was nearly midnight when Maureen looked at the clock.

  So lost was she in her own world – and Amber's and Jared’s - it hadn’t even occurred to her to eat dinner. Stretching her arms and legs, the romance writer realized she was ravenously hungry.

  After saving her work to the desktop and a thumb drive, Maureen shuffled into the kitchen, switched on the overhead light and dug into the refrigerator for the tuna salad she’d made yesterday. Once she piled two slices of wheat bread high with the spread, adding more mayonnaise and mustard, she bit into the sandwich with gusto.

  Writing can use up a lot of energy, she reminded herself. Curiously though, Maureen found tonight’s creativity to be strangely intact, the words flowing from her hands.

  She wondered briefly if it was due to what Dr. Brice had said at the end of today’s session. Perhaps her subconscious was simply responding to the suggestion.

  Whatever works, Maureen thought. She was amazingly energized for this time of night.

  In short order, Maureen polished off the sandwich and headed back to her home-office, where her laptop, Amber and Jared eagerly awaited her return.

  ***

  It was early the next day, dawning clear and dazzling, that Maureen got the idea of taking a short trip to Hawaii to do further research for her novel. As she sat writing at her office desk, the words pouring like liquid gold onto the pages on the computer screen, the romance novelist realized that in order to fully depict the magical ambiance of the exotic setting of her story, she needed to actually be there, her tanned, bare feet digging into the white shores, a laptop balanced on her knees, and a tall, ice-cold Mai Tai planted in the sand beside her.

  Just thinking about the glamorous, leisurely surroundings to further stoke the fires of Amber’s and Jared’s shared passions brought pure delight to her heart, which lately had been weighed down by far-too-unpleasant emotions. Such deep emotional release work deserves a reward, she thought now, smiling broadly.

  And Hawaii would be the perfect reward.

  Maureen’s mood was buoyant as she practically glided down the hall to the cheerful kitchen to replenish her cup of green-and-jasmine tea. Like the 50th state, the beverage was exotic and out-of-the-way, teasing her taste buds with a delicious blend of mystery and enchantment.

  The same way she knew Hawaii would revive her depleted senses.

  Maureen badly needed to get away and this was her chance. Besides, she’d get some important work done. Writers were often encouraged to write about what they knew.

  And, soon, she would know Hawaii.

  After another sip of the unique tea, Maureen Beckley sat down at her computer to search the internet for a lovely place to stay and the least expensive direct flights. She'd plan to leave for her working vacation in less than 14 days.

  Already, her mind and heart were in Hawaii.

  ***

  Sterling was particularly upset this morning and no amount of vigorous working out in his home gym could assuage his feelings. Late last night, close to midnight, he and Lucy had gotten into a loud, nasty argument, just an hour after she’d dropped by his home unannounced. He’d spent the requisite amount of time with her, then insisted that she leave.

  That’s when their combative voices rose to a clamorous pitch, enough so that a member of the domestic staff knocked tentatively on his bedroom door to discreetly warn him that the lights at the closest neighbor’s home had suddenly come back on.

  Not only was Lucy Troppe showing up for her regularly scheduled “client visits” at his downtown office, but she was now laying claim to his private time. Apparently, she felt entitled.

  He hated that.

  And, Sterling Matthews realized, as he poured himself a stiff morning drink, that he hated her.

  And the hold she had on him.

  Things have got to change, he insisted to himself. The scotch swirled like a wandering amber brook around the clinking frozen cubes.

  It was high time to put Lucy on ice. Very, very soon.

  The thought was a grim reminder of what a pain she'd become to him.

  But it was the only thought that put vigor back into his normally youthful step and made him prepared to face the day.

  ***

  “I’ll only be gone for two-and-a-half weeks, Dr. Brice. Then I’ll be heading back here in time to submit my manuscript to my editor. Please don’t worry.” Maureen said the words reassuringly; all the while, however, she recognized the tell-tale signs of discomfort etched plainly into the therapist’s face.

  Since booking her four-hour flight to the Island of Oahu and making reservations at a five-star hotel on Waikiki beach, Maureen noticed time was flying by. Before she knew it, she was in her psychologist’s office, informing her about the upcoming vacation plans and bidding a temporary good-bye.

  Dr. Brice looked directly into her client’s eyes. “As your therapist, Maureen, I think it’s much too soon for you to be away from the emotional release work and our sessions together. You’ve just gotten started and I’m very pleased with your progress so far. This work takes some effort, as you know, and I don’t want to see you lose interest or momentum.”

  The therapist paused. “However, I do understand your pressures and deadlines as a novelist. That responsibility comes first, of course.” She took an audible breath and even managed a slight smile. “We’ll pick up where we leave off after your return.” Both women relaxed after that issue had been settled.

  “So, do you have any more questions about ‘greening’ your emotions, Maureen?” The query opened up a 30-minute discussion about the finer points of the alternative type of therapy. Details, like, never doing these exercises in the presence of another person, unless it’s a therapist. Maureen immediately asked, “Why, Dr. Brice?” The psychologist responded that a workout could stimulate the deep emotional wounds of other people, possibly leading to unwanted complications.

  This modality, the therapist went on to say, should always be done in private, taking care not to hurt or endanger another individual, or oneself. Obviously enthused, Dr. Brice went on to delineate, or re-emphasize, other vital points.

  Personally, Maureen found herself thinking, I hope I never have to do another emotional workout again for the rest of my life.

  She was feeling good. In a way she hadn’t for years. It was a grounded, all-around content feeling. Not reliant on a man, and certainly not dependent on the gorgeous Sterling Matthews.

  Walking out to her car, Maureen thought wryly: Sterling Matthews. Who’s he? I won, she told herself triumphantl
y.

  I won myself back. And I don’t ever want to leave me behind again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The world-famous Island of Oahu glittered like a 100-carat diamond, all of its sparkling points coalescing into an exquisitely beautiful face of Mother Nature, with its rich shades of emerald green in the abundant, swaying grasses, trees, and, even in the deep, rolling curls of the surf. All of this postcard-perfect, bountiful scenery was complimented by clear-sky blues and spectacular white beaches.

  The brilliant yellows in the Birds of Paradise, the true reds of the Hibiscus flowers and the graceful purples of the tropical orchids contrasted beautifully as dramatic accents in this real-life portrait, which took Maureen’s breath away.

  Five days before leaving, she’d impulsively cancelled the reservations at the Waikiki Beach hotel, instead opting for a two-story home that had suddenly become available. Linda Martin had called Maureen with the news that the pediatrician scheduled to rent her home on the beach was suddenly waylaid by an emergency and wouldn’t be making the trip to Hawaii after all.

  Was she still interested in renting the three-bedroom, two-bath home, with spacious balconies which overlooked the ocean?

  Was she?! If the photos posted on the website she’d visited several days ago were any indication, Maureen would be enjoying a lovely house - all to herself - during the nearly three-week stay. The 4,000 square-foot redwood home, complete with an outdoor hot tub, not to mention an oblong-shaped swimming pool, lit up as a shimmering turquoise gem at night, also boasted two large red brick fireplaces and a hardwood deck which opened onto the picturesque shore with its constantly undulating waves.

  Wow. Maureen couldn’t wait. It’s a good sign, the romance novelist told herself, recalling how she’d submitted her contact information for the online application with no real hope of the rental becoming vacant before she left her home on the mainland.

  Only one aspect posed a minor concern. The lovely vacation home was located on Kailua Beach, an area she’d never heard of before. However, she’d done enough research on the internet to learn that it was only a 30-minute drive from Honolulu. She’d be able to experience a nice blend of laid-back relaxation, as well as the exciting sights and sounds of Hawaii’s bustling capital city, with its colorful luaus and hula dances featuring authentic Polynesian performers.

  It all sounded fantastic to Maureen Beckley.

  Sure, it was a little pricey, but Maureen reminded herself that she didn’t come to Hawaii every day. Her success as a novelist had paved the way for a few indulgences. And this was one indulgence she was intent on enjoying to the fullest.

  As for the spaciousness of the family-sized home, Maureen reasoned that she could invite a few of her neighbors over now and then to keep from being completely isolated. Maybe she'd fire up the backyard barbeque and have a small, impromptu pool party, complete with Pina Coladas and fragrant Plumeria flower leis.

  The pleasurable thoughts danced in her head while the taxi she’d waved down at the airport confidently climbed the Pali Highway to deliver her to Kailua on the windward side of the island.

  Something about this vibrant native culture was already bringing out a spontaneous, festive side to her normally insular personality, teasing her out of her familiar shell to be playful and extroverted, to entertain previously improbable scenarios.

  She couldn’t wait to see what more this exotic isle of Hawaii had to offer.

  ***

  Her first full day in Hawaii was a restful one, perfect for casually exploring her rambling vacation home, situated on a slight rise above a stunner of a white-sands beach. Strolling through the cool, breezy, open lanai, her bags partially unpacked in the upstairs master bedroom, Maureen knew she’d landed in Paradise. She slowly sipped from a just-made cup of bold Kona coffee, freshly perked in her colorful new Hawaiian kitchen and its straw floor mats.

  If queried, she’d gladly tell the interviewer she never wanted to go back to the life she’d been leading. At least that’s how she felt now. Taking a deep breath, her eyes gently scanned the tantalizing hues of the heavenly shoreline that lay right outside her back door, only steps down from the back porch and its electric barbeque.

  What parties I could throw here, Maureen silently joked, while at the same time asking herself: where did that thought come from?

  For the rest of today and tonight, however, the novelist simply wanted to be alone and soak in the ambiance. The scenery was unrealistically beautiful with tropical blues and lush greens that pulsated like fantasy colors in a Disney fairytale.

  I can’t imagine the dreams I’m going to have here.

  Another thought Maureen hadn't anticipated. For some reason, it sent a slight chill into her heart, already beating a little more perceptibly due to her natural exhilaration. In spite of the profound relaxation this open house inspired, complete with its family-friendly neighborhood beach, it also crackled with electricity.

  She felt like she was standing at the edge of two continents: a cool, quiet calm merging with an undeniable excitement.

  Maybe I’ll meet someone new here. It was another unbidden thought.

  As if, she told herself, promptly reminded of the fact that passionate vacation romances rarely lasted.

  But, as the warm, refreshing trade winds gently caressed her, Maureen felt like she was already in the embrace of an amorous lover, one whose arms she’d always yearned for, and fervently hoped she would never be released from again.

  ***

  He knew that he hated the sight of her and, Heaven help him, here she was again, right here in his foyer. Briefly announced by one of his staff, Lucy Troppe stood like the Queen of Sheba, arms folded imperiously across her busty chest. Sterling hadn’t even heard the doorbell, so adrift was he in his own thoughts in one of the solitary rooms located at the back of the house next to the raging ocean.

  Today’s weather had been a virtual roller-coaster: Mother Nature began happily enough, but quickly became incensed, commanding the waves to beat the shores while leaving behind a copious amount of sickeningly-green foam in their merciless wake. And with the weak sun finally bidding adieu to its day, shuttered behind gales of depressingly cloudy skies, Sterling had to admit that his mood wasn’t much better either.

  Especially now that Lucy Troppe was back.

  “Well, well, Lucy, what brings you here?” The owner of the manor made a supreme effort to sound casual, even playful. However he was far from a jovial temperament. Lucy had better know what’s good for her and not mess with me tonight, he fumed silently, as, welcoming her into the cavernous living room, he saw that one of the staff had already laid a brisk fire there.

  The only thought that gave him solace was the assurance he was soon going to cut things off with her. Why not tonight? he asked himself.

  He politely inquired as to Lucy Troppe's choice of evening drink.

  “Oh, Vermouth on the rocks, with a twist of lime. And mango. I’m feeling exotic tonight.” She rolled her heavily teal-lined eyes in what was meant to be a seductive expression, one that was totally lost on him.

  “OK, Vermouth for Miss Troppe. Chardonnay for me, please,” Sterling said quietly, nodding briefly to his patient, long-devoted butler. His staff wouldn’t be seeing the likes of Lucy anymore.

  Not if he could help it.

  While the drinks were being prepared, Sterling motioned for Lucy to be seated in the

  scarlet wingback chair positioned in front of the blazing fire, which didn’t completely

  extinguish the late day’s chill.

  I have a feeling it’s going to be a long, long night, Sterling Matthews sighed inwardly, as he made a Herculean effort to smile pleasantly at his overbearing, and very unwelcome, guest.

  ***

  A perfect evening in Hawaii wouldn’t be nearly as perfect without a stroll along the beach, Maureen told herself, as the sun gradually lowered its orange face into the expanse of the bronze-colored ocean. Her sandals dangling from one hand,
she lifted her long white cotton dress, slit up to just above her knees on both sides, as she walked slowly, her bare feet digging into the wet, pliable sands as she went.

  This is heaven, she thought, not for the first time since arriving at the Honolulu International Airport at precisely 10:23 this morning. I made the right decision to come here, she thought, inhaling the aroma of a thousand flower scents in the cool, native breezes that quieted her mind.

  It was getting darker and, before long, the solitary writer had to force herself to turn back towards her vacation home. She’d kept track of her way, using a large, grassy knoll which extended onto the sands as a landmark; she mustn’t get lost, especially not on her first day in Paradise. A large tropical bird squawked to her as she headed back in the direction she’d come.