Minute by Minute. Jo Leigh
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“This is breathtaking,” Meg said, as they drove by one of the huge swimming pools.
“It’s got a swim-up bar. And I think that waterfall is actually a slide.”
“No kids.”
“One of the advantages of an adult resort. And it’s all-inclusive. You want a drink, they bring it to you. You can eat anywhere. The only thing they charge extra for is deep-sea fishing. Basically, you want it, you got it.”
She looked at him. “I want a whole lot.”
“Then we’re in the right place.”
Her smile lingered in his mind’s eye as she turned back to the scenery. He, on the other hand, had to figure out a way to stay calm. Cool. As if he didn’t want to jump her the moment they were in the bungalow. Hell, as if he didn’t want to do it right this second.
What the hell had she been thinking when she’d e-mailed him that picture? It didn’t come close to what she really looked like. Jeez, she’d caught him completely off guard. Dammit.
The woman was beautiful. She had long, really thick, almost black hair. It framed her face, and oh man, what a face. Dark brows, dark lashes and dark eyes. Pale, delicate skin. The contrast alone was worthy of epic poems.
She was taller than he’d expected, and he could see that all that yoga she talked about had paid off. Again, a mixture. Lean lines with fascinating curves just where they should be.
He couldn’t blow this. He hadn’t invited her to sex-apalooza. In fact, he’d gone to a lot of trouble and expense to make sure she felt completely at ease. But it was clear that if she didn’t want to sleep with him, he’d have to kill himself.
“Oh, God,” she said.
He followed her gaze to the first clear view of the beach. “This is nothing,” he said. “Wait till we get to the other side of the island. There’s a huge lagoon. And we have a lot more privacy where we’re staying.”
“Oh, really?”
He nodded, wanting this part to be over already. It was awkward, the first steps of a new dance. He wanted it to be like when they were online. He could speed things up, take her right to the bungalow, but he’d promised her a tour, and she should have it. There was so much to do here, and even though he’d like to keep her to himself, this was her vacation.
Meg turned to him. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything.”
“What made you look for the island in the first place?”
“Aside from our fabulous New Year’s Eve conversation?”
“Yeah. Aside from that.”
He eased the cart around a few trees and toward the spa. The jungle was thicker here, and he thanked the timing gods that they’d made the trip in February, when the air was perfectly warm, but not too humid to breathe without a snorkel. “You weren’t home,” he said.
“Ah. Well, that clears everything up. Thanks.”
“It’s true.” God, he was glad she was as sarcastic live as she was online. “You weren’t home one night and I’d already written my column about the damn environmental bill I told you about. That idiot Thompson was just spoiling for me to say something that would upset—”
“Alex.”
He knew that tone, despite never having heard it before in his life. He had a tendency to get caught up in tangents, even on the computer, and Meg rarely let him get away with it. And now he could put the voice with the sentiment.
It seemed absurd that they’d never talked before. That this was their first meeting. On the other hand, why sit in the frying pan when you can jump right into the fire? “Right. I was seriously thinking about relocation at the time, and I figured an island worked for Gauguin, so why not me? So I surfed the web, and then I came across this island, and it was so much like what we’d talked about that, you know.”
“That you decided to spend an absurd amount of money so that we could meet here.”
“Basically, yeah. There’s the spa.” He pointed. “That whole building.”
“Is that your way of distracting me from follow-up questions?” she asked.
“No, that’s my way of saying there’s the spa.”
She looked at him. And damn if he didn’t recognize that look, too. Yeah, he’d never seen her, except for that surprisingly unflattering picture, but nonetheless.
“And about the questions. I told you. You can ask anything. I have no secrets,” he said.
“None?”
“Maybe one.”
“Which, of course, I’m going to have to get out of you before our time here is through,” Meg teased.
“Go for it.”
She grinned, then turned her attention to the spa.
The building was white, like the hotel, and it reminded him of the Greek Isles. Columns, open architecture, stark. A beautiful setting with ample views of the lush vegetation and the ocean. There were also some tents on the outskirts, more Roman than Greek, which were closed to their view. “Those are massage tents.”
Meg sighed. “I’ve dreamed of this. A real massage where I don’t have to think, or move, or do anything but make moany noises.”
“We can sign up right now.”
“Yes, please.”
He found the entrance and parked the cart under a nearby tree. Meg climbed out and he followed her up a series of marble steps, between two columns and into a spacious lobby. He hadn’t been to a lot of spas, but he’d read about this one, and it was supposed to be one of the best in the world.
A lovely older woman with silver hair smiled at them as they approached the marble desk. “How can I help you?”
“I’d like to get a massage, please,” Meg said.
“Of course. We have a four-handed massage, with two therapists working on your body at the same time. Aromatherapy, of course, using some of the fruits and oils unique to the Caribbean. We have reflexology, Swedish massage, hot stone massage, a sports massage tailored to your needs, and of course, our famous couples massage.”
“Okay,” Meg said. “I’ll take one of each.”
The woman smiled. “How would you like me to book them?”
“I was kidding. I want them all, but I’ll take two—how’s that?”
“Whatever we can do to make your stay more relaxing. There are also hydrotherapy sessions, seaweed baths, mud baths, and a mineral salt bath.”
“Now that’s just being mean.”
Alex touched Meg’s arm, wanting to give her all those treatments himself. “Anything you want.”
“I can’t decide. Do you have a brochure?”
“Naturally,” she said, handing her the folded chart. “But keep in mind you need to give us some advance notice. What I can do is put you down on our wait list, and notify you when we have an opening.”
“That would be wonderful.”
While Meg wrote down her name and how long she’d be staying, Alex studied the picture that dominated the wall across from the desk. Maybe he was nuts, but it looked like a Monet. Or a Manet. He could never get them straight. Whichever, it looked like something that belonged in a museum. With the blues and greens and soft lilypads, it was as tranquil as the building, as the breeze.
Meg thanked the receptionist, and they turned to leave. She walked slowly, sniffing the air as she walked. “It’s amazing.”