Island Fantasy. Kayla Perrin
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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.
“It’s all right.” The voice was just as sexy as the man. Shayna tried her best not to look at him. “You called for our help. That was smart. Very smart.”
Isaiah nodded bravely, and the sexy man clamped his hand down on his shoulder in a gesture of support.
And that’s when Shayna realized she shouldn’t still be standing there. That she was observing—intruding—when she should have moved back already.
She turned and started walking away. She didn’t get more than two steps before she felt a hand on her arm.
“Hey,” came the deep voice. Shayna turned, her heart thundering as she did. Piercing brown eyes met and held her gaze. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I did what anyone else would do.”
“No, thank you,” the man insisted. “My niece was drowning—and we can’t thank you enough for your quick action.”
His niece?
“Yes, thank you.” The man holding the little girl spoke now. The young girl, maybe three, was wailing and coughing. More frightened than anything else, Shayna knew.
But thank God she was okay.
“You’re welcome,” Shayna said. “I’m glad I could help.”
Then she headed back to her lounge chair. Her dress was soaking from the chest down, and she pulled it over her head. That’s when she noticed him. Walking toward her.
The look in his eyes made her stomach flutter, which was completely inappropriate. Even if he wasn’t the young girl’s father as she’d assumed, he was likely still the father of at least one of the children. Or at the very least, married to one of the three women who were nowhere in sight.
Shayna pretended not to notice him and instead concentrated on laying her dress over the back of the chair to air it out.
“Sorry you got your dress wet,” the man said.
“It’s perfectly okay,” Shayna told him, hoping her voice was as flat as possible. “It’ll dry.”
The man was near her now, only a couple of feet away. He extended his hand, “I’m Donovan.”
Shayna hesitated. She almost didn’t say her name. What was the point? But she decided that simply stating her name was not an invitation to begin an affair.
“I’m Shayna.”
“Nice name.”
Shayna almost rolled her eyes, but she didn’t. Instead she glanced around, looking to see where the three women were. She’d assumed they’d gone for a bathroom break or perhaps to the nearby bar.
She saw no one.
“I’m sorry,”