His By Christmas. Teresa Southwick
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every day. A spreadsheet—”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I had something on the calendar for every day. Parasailing, hang gliding, wave riding, rock climbing—”
Her mouth opened, hinting that she was appalled. “Those aren’t gentle, peaceful or restful. They’re life-threatening.”
“I prefer to think of them as aggressive leisure interests.” She was really putting him on the defensive. “The point is that I broke my leg on the first day and had to cancel everything. And I couldn’t leave the island and lose the bet. Sitting around and doing nothing would have pushed me over the edge.” He shrugged. “I figured that I might as well work.”
“Wow. You would rather work when there’s a beautiful, exciting island just outside the door to this luxury villa and it’s yours to explore?”
“Not when you’re on crutches,” he retorted. “Believe me, I checked. No wave riding or parasailing when you’ve got a cast on your leg.”
“You’ve never heard of plan B?”
“Of course I have. But, like I said, I’m complicated. And nothing fun is cast-friendly.”
There was a gleam in her eyes when she said, “I bet there’s a lot of fun things you can do with that plaster on your leg.”
“I challenge you to come up with a list of activities for a guy in my situation. Until then, don’t judge.”
* * *
It wasn’t long before the lights came back on, the clouds disappeared and paradise was restored. Outside. Inside, Justine went to work, and when not busy doing something for her boss, she researched available activities on this tropical island. At lunchtime they took a break and she was ready with a list. After finishing a delicious meal of grilled fish, delicate rice, salad and the yummiest sugar cookies ever, she figured it was as good a time as any to bring it up.
She was sitting in the club chair beside the cushy sofa where Cal was stretched out. “I’m ready for your challenge,” she said.
“Which one would that be?”
“I think asking the question is a stall technique, but we’ll play this your way.” She opened a file folder containing information she’d printed out. “There are many things to do on this island. Even for a man with limited mobility.”
“Don’t even mention the W-word.”
She was drawing a blank. “I’m sorry. The what now?”
“Wheelchair.”
“Ah.” She nodded her understanding. “You’re thinking limitations. My focus is broader. That’s the difference between us.”
“No. The difference is that my leg is broken. Yours are just fine.” He stopped and that declaration settled in the air between them. “I’m sorry. By ‘fine’ I meant you’re not on crutches.”
“I know what you meant.”
Her leg was fine if you were just talking mobility. It had taken surgeries, time and hard work to regain function, albeit with a slight limp, but the extensive scars would always be a visual reminder of what she’d lost.
“Moving on, then. No wheelchair. Got it.” She scanned her paperwork. “You were right.”
“I’m surprised to hear you admit that.” But he looked puzzled. “What exactly is it that I’m right about?”
“Activities at an island resort heavily favor guests who are not in a cast.”
“Like I said, there’s nothing for me to do and I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. Hence the work. Given my circumstances, that’s not a violation of the spirit of the wager with my brother. It comes under the heading of Circumstances Beyond My Control.”
“Not completely true,” she told him. “I said it favors noninjured people, but there’s plenty to keep the physically challenged occupied.”
“Such as?”
“Massage.” She let that sink in for a moment. “The resort has a lovely menu of them. For example—the Swedish massage using long, fluid strokes to relieve muscle tension and improve circulation. Optimum blood flow will facilitate healing in your leg. And the technique will ease you into relaxation and relieve stress throughout your entire body. That’s not just the spirit of vacation. It’s proactive participation in it.”
She looked up from her notes to gauge his reaction. There was a tight, tense expression on his face that wasn’t exactly disapproval, but something that made her heart skip a beat. It was as if he could think of something else to relieve his body’s tension, and that thought made her blush.
Looking back at her notes, she started talking, anything to fill the silence. “Here’s one you might like. Vibrational massage using specially blended oils that vibrate with the frequency of the seven energy centers of the body to open and revitalize the chakras. This synergistic experience of breathing in each of the powerful aromatic oils, along with light massage, leaves you feeling balanced.”
“Seriously?”
“Balance is good. That’s why one takes a vacation. There’s nothing wrong with working hard, but you need to offset it with play.” She glanced up and saw amusement on his face. “What?”
“You know what they say. Your chakras can’t be opened enough.”
“Okay. Moving on.” She flipped through the research. “Oh, here’s something. Artistic palm arrangement.”
“Basket weaving.”
“Well...yes, but it would be helpful if you weren’t an activity snob. The pictures of what people have done are quite impressive. And you can do it sitting down. All you need are two good hands and a yearning for artistic adventure.”
“I bet thrill seekers from all over the world are just flocking to that one,” he said wryly.
She nodded. “Good to know your chakras might be closed but your mind is completely open to possibilities.”
“I’m glad you noticed.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
What she noticed was the way his smile and the gleam in his eyes warmed a path straight inside her and made her heart beat a little faster. Talk about possibilities. And no scenario in which she indulged them would end well. Look away, she told herself.
“I’ll put you down as a maybe for artistic palm arrangement.” She turned a page. “Now, this sounded like fun.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense.”
She ignored him. “A cooking class specializing in cuisine from the island. As the description says, ‘Extend your vacation by bringing home the palate-pleasing recipes for the foods that enhanced your leisure experience.’”
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