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“Should’ve known.”
“What do you mean, ‘should’ve known’? I’ll have you know that downtown Miami is very cultural. A lot of history there, as well,” she explained. “And why do you live in Southside Chicago, anyway?”
“It’s my home. I was born and raised there. It’s where I grew up. I’m proud of my home. I envy your upbringing. Must’ve been nice, growing up in the Bahamas.”
“It was restricting. I outgrew this place. Quickly!”
It had been years since she’d lived on the islands. A native of the Bahamas, she’d gone away to college and vowed never to return to the islands permanently. And even after the completion of her family’s bed-and-breakfast, the Grove, she still had no desire to return. However, visiting properties with Samson caused her to remember why she loved the Bahamas so much. It was still her home, where her family lived, and still one of the most beautiful places in the world.
Her father was a retired physician, and he was the best example of what she wanted in a man. Genuine and caring and very intuitive, he was part of the reason she’d never settled down with anyone. No one could ever compare to him. That and the fact that her mother’s voice was forever in her head about everything. Her mother’s little anecdotes and lessons lived in her mind. She didn’t know why she listened to her mother, though. Beverly Talbot had done the opposite of what she constantly encouraged her daughters to do. She told them to follow their dreams, when she’d abandoned her own dreams only to follow their father’s.
“Sometimes in life, we make sacrifices, Alyson.” That had been her mother’s excuse. “I wanted a better life for you guys. That’s why I didn’t follow my dreams.”
Alyson and her siblings had certainly benefited from their mother’s sacrifices. Their parents had somehow managed to put every one of them through college. Everyone except for Alyson’s youngest brother, Denny, who’d chosen the military instead. He was currently away completing officer’s training in the United States. The rebellious one with a mind and style of his own, he’d certainly been the exception to the Talbot family rule.
Somehow he’d also managed to weasel his way out of working for their family’s business. The Grove was their inheritance—passed down to them from their grandfather Clyde Talbot. They each had a stake in the business. Jasmine had been the first to move back to the islands to oversee the construction of the family’s B and B. She’d written the business and marketing plan. And after the renovation had been completed by her fiancé, she’d been instrumental in hiring staff and overseeing the day-to-day operations.
But Jasmine was becoming overwhelmed. Their youngest sister, Whitney, a schoolteacher in Texas, had made promises that she would move back home after the school year ended, but so far that hadn’t happened, and Jasmine needed help. Planning a wedding and running the Grove was certainly taking its toll on her. As a result, Alyson found herself on the islands more often than she wanted to be. It had been weeks since she’d been to her home in Miami.
“If we’re done looking around, I should lock up.”
“I’m done,” said Samson.
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was a text message from Stephen.
Taking a bit longer than expected. Might be another hour...maybe two. Sorry J
“Really, Stephen!” she said aloud.
“What?” Samson asked.
“He said he might be an hour or two longer,” she explained. “I apologize.”
“Don’t,” said Samson. “Let’s just make the best of it.”
“How?”
“There’s a beautiful beach a few steps from here. I say we take advantage of it.”
“I say we don’t. I’m not even dressed for the beach.”
“When was the last time you just let your hair down?”
“I can’t remember. I don’t have time to let my hair down.”
“Well, today you will.” Samson grabbed her hand and ushered her out of the kitchen and through the living room, straight to the front door.
“Just let me lock up.”
* * *
Samson didn’t waste any time removing his hat and laying it atop a huge rock. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, and all Alyson took in were golden brown abs and strong arms and the beautiful sunshine beaming against smooth skin. He removed the leather sandals from his feet and headed for the water. He didn’t even bother to remove his trousers before jumping in for a swim.
“The water’s warm!” he yelled.
“That’s nice.”
“Why don’t you take your clothes off and come in?”
“Imagine that,” she said, and then decided to remove her leather pumps.
The last thing she needed was to ruin a perfectly good pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes. Never mind that she’d caught them on clearance at a Saks end-of-season sale. Still, they weren’t cheap! And she would not be removing her clothes in front of a man that she barely knew. She was appalled that he would even suggest it.
She rolled up the legs of her pants, tiptoed through the sand and moved closer to the water. Samson was doing a backstroke in the water. He was moving farther away from the shore, and she feared that he was being careless.
“Hey!” she called. “You shouldn’t swim so far out.”
He smiled and waved and continued to swim farther out. Soon he disappeared, and she couldn’t see his head. Her heart pounded as she moved closer, and soon she was standing in the water.
“Samson!” she called again.
No response and no sight of him. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She quickly tried to dial 911, but her fingers were shaking.
Samson had swam farther out into the deep part of the ocean. She was breathless when she didn’t see him anymore.
A Jet Ski zoomed past, and she tried flagging it down. They waved as if she was saying hello, and kept moving. She crept farther into the water. As she pressed the numbers on her cell phone, it slipped from her grasp and fell into the water.
“Shit!” she exclaimed and crouched down to pick it up.
She missed seeing the wave that suddenly crashed against the shore and the side of her face. It soaked her hair and clothing with one splash. She inhaled deeply and attempted to catch her breath. Then she tried turning her cell phone on.
“Looking for someone?” Samson popped up out of the water, startling her.
“Are you crazy?” She swung at him, but he grabbed her hands. Restrained her.
“What is wrong with you?”
“I thought you drowned!”
“Well, I didn’t.” He grinned. “I’m glad to know that you cared, though. You were willing to save my life?”
“Let go of me! You are so twisted! And this is definitely not funny!” she yelled. “You’re an asshole! My phone probably doesn’t work anymore, and my hair is wet and my clothes are soaked!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you thought I was drowning. I was fine. I’m a swimmer.”
She rushed angrily to shore. Samson followed, attempting to express his sorrow. Her clothes and her hair were ruined, and she was livid. Stephen couldn’t return to the island soon enough, she thought. Samson Steel had certainly burned his bridge with her, and there was no recovering from this.
Chapter 5 (#ulink_70b362b1-b083-5a1c-a31e-d442412fea3d)
The weather in the Bahamas was beautiful—warm and tropical—but it was as cold as ice on the boat ride back to Harbour Island. Samson glanced back at Alyson, who was seated on the port side of the boat. She’d managed to pull her wet hair back into a ponytail. Her clothes were wrinkled and drenched. A pair of overpriced shoes rested next to her on the seat, and a set of earbuds was inside her ears. He wondered what she was listening to, but dared not ask. He was just grateful that her phone still worked.
“She’ll be okay.” Stephen caught him checking her out.
“I didn’t know she thought I was drowning. I went out a little deeper than I probably should have,” Samson tried to explain. “And she should’ve seen me swimming back to shore.”
“She said she wasn’t looking...too busy trying to get her phone to work. But I tell you what... I wished I’d have seen her rushing out into the water like that. I bet that was a sight to see.” Stephen laughed.
“Why doesn’t she date?” Samson asked.
“Oh, she dates,” said Stephen. “She just doesn’t commit. She’s afraid of letting someone in. Whenever someone gets too close, she runs them away.”
“Dealing with her seems like so much work.”
“Alyson Talbot is a lot of work. But I believe when the right guy comes along, she’ll let him in.”
Samson glanced at Alyson one last time. Her eyes were closed this time.
The trio reached Harbour Island by nightfall. Samson helped Stephen guide the boat to the deck and secure it with a rope. Stephen helped Alyson climb out, and then he helped Samson. She never looked his way, just stomped toward a bench and sat down, folding her arms across her chest.
“Give me a minute and I’ll drive you both to the Grove,” Stephen said.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take a cab!” Alyson snapped.
* * *
Samson Place was decorated in tropical colors—pink and turquoise. It was tranquil and oozed with romance. It was the sort of place where lovers retreated for long weekends. He watched as Alyson spoke briefly with the young woman at the front desk. The woman handed her a key, and she breezed right past Samson, walking briskly toward the wooden stairwell.
“I’m sorry, Alyson.” It was his last attempt at penance.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said and kept walking.
With a long sigh, he pulled his room key out of his pocket and headed for his room, as well.
“Where have you been?” Samson recognized the voice immediately. Bijou wore a bikini top and a pair of cutoff jeans. Flat stomach, silky smooth legs and leather flip-flops. Her toes were painted in a hot-pink nail polish that matched her bikini top. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Did you forget?”
“Forget what?” he asked.
“That we had a date, silly.” Her breasts were perfectly round and buoyant. “Remember, I was going to show you around the island?”
He didn’t think they’d actually set a date. In fact, he thought they were just making flirtatious small talk. “Was that today?” he asked.
“You did forget.” She pouted.
“I can’t today, Bijou. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, no, mister!” She grabbed his arm. “I’m not letting you renege.”
He couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to the rendezvous. And there was little he could do to get out of it, so he followed Bijou to an old pickup truck parked in front of Samson Place. Bijou jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. Samson reluctantly walked around to the other side of the truck, hopped into the passenger’s seat and slammed his door shut. She started the engine, and although the rusty Chevy was in desperate need of a paint job, the engine hummed like it was brand-new. He held on to the door handle as Bijou peeled away from the curb. She tuned the radio to a Caribbean party station and turned up the volume as loud as it would go. He held his breath as she sped through the streets of Harbour Island. He barely heard as she pointed out some of the island’s landmarks. His mind was elsewhere—on Alyson and the anticipation of making amends with her.
“Let’s go for a swim!” Bijou pulled up at the beach without warning.
“Let’s not,” he told her. “I didn’t bring any trunks.”
He didn’t need trunks, but had no desire to take a swim with Bijou. He’d had his fill of swimming in the ocean for one day, and it hadn’t gone well at all.
“Don’t you want to go skinny-dipping?”
What man wouldn’t want to skinny-dip with a beautiful woman like Bijou? He’d be crazy not to.
“Maybe another time,” he said. “You think you could drive me back to the Grove now?”
“You’re putting me off.” She poked her lip out.
He didn’t have an answer, and couldn’t believe he was turning down an opportunity to skinny-dip with a beautiful woman. His buddies back home would be giving him the side-eye, wondering if he’d grown soft.
He managed a smile. “Rain check?”
Bijou wasn’t giving up without a fight. She untied the strings of her bikini halter top and dropped it. Her breasts sprung to life. He noted that they were a beautiful shade of brown with perky nipples. Her fingertips reached for his face, caressed his temples. She grabbed his hand and slipped his index finger into her mouth. “Still want to go back to the Grove?”
“Those...are...very beautiful.” He breathed in deeply. There was no denying he was aroused, but he stood his ground.
He didn’t know when it happened, but Alyson had become his new endeavor, and getting her attention had suddenly become his focus.
“Glad you like them.” She smiled seductively.
“Please put your top back on.”
“Was it something I said?” she asked. “I was too forward.”
“It’s not you. It’s me.” He sounded like a cliché, but he didn’t care. He had no desire to impress Bijou. “It’s just that I need to get back and speak with someone.”
“With that woman—Jasmine’s sister. The stuffy one,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s too bad she has such a bad attitude.”
“She’s beautiful, though,” Samson rebutted.
“She’s a bit overweight.”
Samson laughed at Bijou’s cattiness. He thought her jealousy was cute. Alyson was far from overweight, in his opinion. She had curves in all the right places. He thought she was sexy as hell, and couldn’t seem to get her out of his head. Bijou lifted her bikini top back up and tied it around her neck again. She started the truck, put it in Reverse and peeled out of the sand at full speed. He wasn’t sure she was able to drive at a normal pace, or even move at a normal pace, for that matter. A man usually had to work hard for what she was willing to give so freely. Fast was definitely her middle name. A week ago, he’d have appreciated Bijou’s audacity. Women had always been his weakness. He couldn’t think of anything better than a beautiful woman’s body pressed against his. But his priorities were suddenly beginning to change.
In an attempt to drown the uncomfortable silence in the truck, Bijou turned up the stereo as loud as it would go. He gazed out the window to keep from looking her way. He wanted to apologize to her, but couldn’t find the words. He just needed to be back at the Grove, and it seemed he couldn’t get there soon enough.
* * *
He found Alyson in the common area at Samson Place. She was reclined on the tangerine-colored antique sofa, pecking ferociously on the keyboard of her laptop. Instead of approaching her immediately, he found his way to the kitchen. Raquel, one of the Grove’s Bahamian cooks, stood in front of the stove with an apron tied around her generous hips.
“Can I get two cups of tea, please?” he asked.
Raquel stopped stirring something in a huge pot, just long enough to look at him. “She likes green tea, with a splash of lemon and just a drizzle of honey,” she said in her sweet Bahamian accent.
