Island Fantasy

And maybe that’s exactly what she needed on this trip. Some eye candy to help soothe the memory of what Vince had done to her.

An attractive man she could admire from afar without any fear that it would lead somewhere.

After all, he was married. Therefore unavailable.

It was perfect.

Chapter 4

The next morning, the sun rose to a glorious day. Shayna stretched, climbed out of bed and immediately went to the balcony window. Pushing the curtains aside, she stared outside and sighed happily, knowing she would never tire of the view.

The previous evening, she’d found the dining hall, enjoyed a solitary dinner that seemed more Mexican than Jamaican, then retired to her room where she’d continued reading after calling home to assure everyone she was okay. Yes, she’d hidden from the world, but she hadn’t felt up to small chat with anyone. And she’d had a pleasant time by herself. It was hard to have a bad time when you sat on your balcony and stared out at nature’s stunning beauty.

She opened the glass door and stepped onto the balcony. Everything about the resort was magnificent. The beautiful greenery lining the stone paths. The towering palm trees and the low ones. The hibiscus flowers growing in the shrubs. The amazing contrast of light and dark blues in the ocean. The lulling sound of the ocean as it crashed against the shore. And she loved the slightly spicy scent of exotic flowers in the air, something she certainly didn’t smell back home in Buffalo.

Shayna smiled. Yes, this was a new day. And she was in paradise. She was going to enjoy it.

Heading back inside, she checked the time on her cell phone. It was after seven in the morning in Jamaica, which meant it was an hour later at home since Jamaica didn’t subscribe to daylight saving time. Surprisingly, there wasn’t a clock in the room. Maybe the hotel staff had figured that honeymooners would be too wrapped up in each other to care about checking the time of day.

She hadn’t eaten much of a dinner last night, and her stomach now grumbled in protest. It was time to head downstairs for breakfast. She got into the shower first, lathering up with the scented body gel the hotel provided, thinking that it was nice not to have to worry about sharing the bathroom with another person. To make her own schedule.

She was determined to look on the bright side.

Once out of the shower, she put her bathing suit on—then a dress to cover it—and packed a beach bag with two hardcover suspense novels. She would lounge by the pool and decide which world to escape into next.

Even though the walk from the front desk had been enormously long, the walk to the restaurant was much shorter. That’s because she didn’t need to backtrack through the hotel to get to the restaurant. It was directly opposite her building on the other side of the pool.

Shayna enjoyed a leisurely stroll from her building along the path that led to a bridge that crossed over the pool. It was early, but the sun was bright and hot. To her far right, under the terrace outside of the lobby, she saw the word SPA. She would definitely take a trip there later, pamper herself.

Shayna climbed the steps to the restaurant and opened the heavy door. The next moment, her heart caught in her throat. Because the sexy stranger who’d caught her staring at him yesterday was walking directly toward her.

Once again, he was accompanied by three females, two other men this time and the same children from the day before. The little girl the sexy stranger had held yesterday was now wide-awake, jumping with excitement as they exited the restaurant, probably ready to head to the pool or the beach.

Shayna smiled politely at the man and his family, then promptly looked away. She didn’t want his wife thinking she was the type of person who would do more than appreciate the good looks of another woman’s husband.

And she didn’t dare glance over her shoulder, fearing she would give both the man and his wife the wrong impression that she was a flirt.

At home, Shayna would have had a cup of coffee and perhaps a slice of toast for breakfast. But here at this all-inclusive resort, she had a freshly made omelet with cheese and vegetables, toast, slices of various fruits and a justbaked pastry. She ate and read at the table by herself until her stomach felt like it couldn’t hold another crumb.

The food was delicious. If she kept eating at this pace, she’d go home with another twenty pounds on her thighs.

She left the restaurant, appreciating the fact that the resort was as large as it was. All the walking would help burn off the extra calories she would no doubt consume.

As she stepped outside, she scanned the nearby pool area. It was beautiful. It would be a nice place to lounge for a while and read her thriller, let the food digest. Then she would get some exercise by doing several laps in the water.

Even though it was early, there was only one lounge chair left in the shade, at the side of the pool closest to the spa. Shayna could see the beige of the chair’s thin mattress, with no towel slung over it to indicate that it was taken. Positioned under a man-made tree created to look like a coconut husk, it was a prime seat. The mattress atop the chair’s wooden frame would certainly be more comfortable than the chairs on the opposite side of the pool, which were made of plastic and blue fabric.

The exit of the restaurant was near the towel hut, so first Shayna got herself a towel, then walked briskly to the vacant chair in the shade. Only when she got close to the seat did her legs falter. Sitting two chairs over from the one she planned to claim was the very handsome stranger she apparently would never be able to avoid.

“Brother,” she muttered under her breath, then told herself to keep walking toward the chair. What did it matter who was sitting there? The man was married and she could bump into him every other minute for the rest of her stay—it wouldn’t matter.

She continued on, her dark sunglasses allowing her to avoid making eye contact with the sexy—and married—stranger. He noticed her—and stared openly at her. Shayna pretended not to notice as she went to the empty lounge chair and settled into it.

Feeling the man’s gaze on her, she flitted her eyes to the left without moving her head. She was right. He was staring.

Shayna couldn’t help scowling, her view on men going down another notch. On Friday night it had plummeted after seeing Vince touching and kissing and then disrobing that stripper. And now, feeling the heat of this man’s gaze, she was further disappointed by the male species.

Why on earth was this man giving her more than a casual glance when he was here on this beautiful island with his wife and kids?

It didn’t matter. It took two to tango, and Shayna was certainly not going to tango with him.

Nor anyone else.

She put the folded towel behind her head to act as a pillow. Then she dug into her bag and pulled out her serial killer novel. Moments later, she found the page where she’d left off and resumed reading the book. In the story, another young woman’s body had just been discovered with a slashed throat and several knife wounds. There wasn’t a hint of a love story in sight.

Exactly what Shayna needed.

But even with the gore on the pages to occupy her mind, she was all too aware of the sexy stranger a couple of lounge chairs away. For some reason, her eyes kept surreptitiously flitting in his direction. He and the two other men were talking and laughing. Red Stripe beer bottles were on the table between their chairs.

She noticed all the details. That of the three men, the one she’d first seen had the best body. His shoulders were muscular, his pecs clearly defined. He looked to be related to the man on his right. That man was older, and he had a ring of extra weight around his waist. But he was still attractive, if not as sexy as his brother or cousin—or whoever the undeniably sexy man was.

The man’s gaze wandered in her direction, and Shayna quickly held her book higher, making it seem as though her nose had been buried in her story the entire time.

She turned her gaze toward the sprawling pool. Why on earth was this man commanding so much of her attention? For goodness’ sake, he was married.

Of course I’m checking him out, Shayna told herself a moment later. She did nothing if not people watch. Her role as a novelist demanded it. She was constantly checking out people, watching their faces as they spoke, their body language as they interacted. Storing every detail in her brain for future use.

She was simply cataloging the details of the man’s incredible body for a description in an upcoming story.

Of course that was why she was so intrigued by him. The realization made her sigh with relief.

She went back to her story and continued reading the descriptively brutal passage of the body at the crime scene. And when she heard the scream, she almost thought it came from her imagination.

But when the second frail scream sounded, this time crying out “Daddy!” Shayna jerked her eyes up from the pages of the book. In the pool before her, near a small round island that boasted grass and a palm tree, she saw the little girl struggling to stay afloat.

Shayna bolted into action. The pool was fashioned after a beach, where you walked right in from the shallow shore. Shayna sprinted right into the water, dress and all, moving as fast as she could to get to the little girl. She was aware of the commotion around her, but she blocked it out. Blocked it out until she reached the little girl and pulled her into the safety of her arms.

No sooner than she had the crying child, someone was reaching for the girl. Shayna quickly looked to her left. The sexy man and the two other men were there, but it was the brother or cousin who was taking the little girl from Shayna’s arms.

“Daddy!” The girl coughed. “Daddy!”

The man enveloped the little girl in an embrace. It was the same little girl who’d been so eager to get to the pool when Shayna had been heading in for breakfast. Shayna gazed down at the two older boys and three older girls in the pool, probably between the ages of six and eight. Their small faces were marred with concern.

“How did she get over here, Isaiah?” the man holding the crying young girl demanded.

“I don’t know—she just—”

It was the younger of the two boys who’d spoken, and he looked like he was going to cry.