Page 15 of Beach Reads and Deadly Deeds

“Some things in life are out of your control. You can make it a party or a tragedy.”

—Nora Roberts, Vision in White

After uploading my book review and changing into jeans and a T-shirt, I studied the island map. The lagoon was a half-mile

walk down the Luz Luna Bahia trail. Though it was after ten, I was too wound up to sleep, tipsy but not drunk, so figured

a little exploration would clear my mind.

I stepped out on my patio. Faint music came from the main lodge. I loved the lights wound among the trees and the peace of

the starry night, stars I couldn’t see living in the city. I’d been a bit rough on Jason when I told him I hadn’t wanted to

come to the island. Now I was glad to be here.

I headed down the beach and was about to turn toward Luz Luna Bahia when I smelled the distinct foul aroma of a cigar.

A man with a mop of white hair and a long white beard against brown skin lounged against a palm tree, framed by subdued ground

lights fifty feet beyond my patio. His eyes were closed and he had a half smile on his face, as if listening to good music

or reliving a happy memory.

I didn’t want to disturb him, so walked as quietly as I could past him, toward the path.

He opened his eyes.

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi. I’m sorry to disturb you.”

He smiled. He looked like Hispanic Santa Claus with his white, white hair. “You’re new here.”

“Yes. My first time. You?”

“I live here.” He puffed on his cigar, blew out rings of smoke.

“You do? That must be nice. It’s beautiful.” Beautiful. Why couldn’t I think of another word?

He kept smiling. “I keep an eye on things. It’s the least I can do.”

Odd comment.

“Oh. Well, I’m Mia. I’m just going for a walk.”

“Mia, Mia,” he murmured. He looked at least eighty.

He might be older than eighty. Was he all there? Maybe I should find someone to help him.

“Do you need help getting back to your room?”

“Oh, no. I’m fine. They don’t let me smoke in there, but I can sit here every night and have my cigar.”

Anyone who made it past life expectancy should be entitled to do whatever they wanted. At least, that’s what Grams told me

every time I questioned her decisions.

“I’m Luis,” he continued. “Nice to meet you, Mia. I hope to see you later.”

“That would be nice,” I said and meant it. I had a soft spot for old people. They had wonderful stories, sometimes humorous,

sometimes sad. Grams’s friend Minnie rambled but always made me smile with her tales of working in a factory during World

War II when she was sixteen. Or Hank, Grams’s neighbor, who embellished his Vietnam War stories. He’d served, I knew, but

what was truth and what was fiction? In the end, all they wanted was someone to listen, someone to care.

Someone to remember.

Luis closed his eyes again and smiled as he inhaled his cigar.

I headed to the path, but almost stumbled when the words from the margins flashed through my mind:

The old man should mind his own business. Someone needs to shut him up.

I glanced back at Luis. He might know something about Diana Harden and who she was writing about—and what she was planning.

The more I thought on it, the more I wondered if she’d been up to no good.

Before I could think twice, I turned around and walked back. “Luis?” I asked.

I thought he might have fallen asleep because he didn’t immediately answer. Then he opened his eyes and said with a twinkle

in his voice, “Yes, Mia?”

“I, um, well, thought maybe you’d like to have breakfast with me? Tomorrow? I came here alone, and if you don’t have anyone

to eat with, I’d love to talk to you about the island.”

“Breakfast would be very nice.”

A smidge of guilt crept in because I planned to pick his brain about Diana, but I would also just enjoy talking with him.

Even if he knew nothing about the missing woman, he probably knew everything about the island and the Caribbean. He’d be fascinating

to listen to.

“Great. Is eight okay?”

“The Blue Dahlia. Eight in the morning.”

“That’s the bar.”

“The chef makes crepes fresh every morning at the Blue Dahlia. You want them. He stops cooking at nine.”

“Okay,” I said with a smile. “Eight at the Blue Dahlia.”

Smoke slowly meandered from his lips as he smiled and waved me off.

The Luz Luna Bahia path was mostly flat as it wound into the jungle. I didn’t know if this would be called a jungle , but the trees and bushes were so thick there was no easy way to walk through them. The path had been trimmed, but the canopy

of trees blocked the sky, the only light coming from the ground lighting and strings of tiny white bulbs woven through the

plants.

The air was moist and earthy the farther I trekked, with intermittent whiffs of honeysuckle. It wasn’t long before the path ended and I stepped into a huge cavern.

The light from the path cast shadows on the rocky mountain that jutted up on three sides. The ocean rolled in through an arch

to the east, the sound of waves echoing against the mountain walls. As my eyes adjusted to the semidark, I realized the sky

above was lit with stars.

Slowly, I walked around the edge of the inlet. It was almost completely round, the size of a large planetarium. The beach

was about ninety feet wide. I didn’t know if it was high tide or low tide. The sand was moist, not wet. I kicked off my sandals

and wiggled my toes, smiling, inching toward the edge of the water, the gentle waves lapping against my feet. The water was

surprisingly warm. Why had I put pants on? I should have brought a bathing suit.

I heard nothing but the water. No music, no people. I thought about all the wild things my grandmother had done. This was

my moment, my time to let go. After all, I was alone. Who would know?

I stripped down to my panties and left my clothes folded on a rock. Giggling, I walked into the surf. None of my friends would

believe I went skinny dipping. Acting out of character was both terrifying and exhilarating.

I dove into the water, then surfaced, worried for a minute that I might be pulled out to sea. But the current was so weak

I could have been in a swimming pool. I swam to the rocks, on the edge of the lagoon, then across to the other side. I floated

back to the middle and stared up at the sky and had the overwhelming and heady feeling that I was the only person in the world.

The rhythmic splash of water against rocks outside the lagoon seemed so distant, yet also comforting.

Believing that I was the only person on the island who knew of this place was foolish, but for the next fifteen minutes, I indulged in the fantasy.

I didn’t want to leave, but I could feel wrinkles on my fingers and knew it was time to get out.

I walked out of the water. Goose bumps rose on my skin.

Tomorrow I’d bring a towel, swimsuit, maybe a snack. I definitely planned to return.

“Maybe you do have your grandmother’s wild streak after all,” a male voice said from the darkness.

I screamed, then clapped my hand over my mouth, heard a brief echo, followed by hearty laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he said with humor. “I didn’t mean to startle you, but I’m glad you’re here improving the view.”

I knew that voice.

“Jason?”

“The one and only.”

I dropped back into the water, embarrassed. Excited. Nervous. A small thrill shot up my spine. I tried to ignore my reaction

to Jason and reached deep down for some anger but couldn’t find much ire to hold on to.

“Damn you.” Okay, maybe a little anger. Because he did startle me. And I wasn’t quite sure why I wasn’t more upset about it.

“I come here to decompress,” he said as if I hadn’t spoken. “I rarely see guests at night.”

My feet touched the sand, but I squatted to avoid exposing myself, keeping my breasts just below the water’s surface. I gazed

up at the cavernous space, the trees and cliffs and the stars overhead. “It’s truly stunning,” I said, the residual anger

and embarrassment fading away.

“This place suits you,” he said.

“Why?” I didn’t know what else to say.

“That it’s beautiful isn’t enough?”

“That sounds like a line.”

Jason smiled and I thought he might be making fun of me. I don’t know why it bothered me so much. I’d already decided that

no matter how attracted I was to the man, I wasn’t going to choose him for a fling.

“Not a line,” he said. “This is the most beautiful spot on the island, but it’s also mysterious, with trails no one knows about even though they’re practically in plain sight. Everything is open, asking to be enjoyed, to be appreciated... but it’s also a lonely place.”

My stomach twisted in knots as I viewed the hidden cove as Jason saw it. For a brief moment, I felt he understood me.

When I looked back toward him, I watched him pick up my bra from the rock.

“Are these your clothes?”

“Put that down!”

He was grinning. “Definitely a wild streak. Maybe I should join you. It’s a good night for a swim.”

“No!” A flush of fresh embarrassment washed over me. “I need you to leave, Jason.”

He sat on the rock, still holding my bra. A playful gleam in his expression told me he had no intention of leaving. I imagined

him throwing off his shirt and pants and joining me in the water.

Fine. I stood, walked out of the water and up the beach, right over to him. He was still smiling, looking right at me, his

green eyes sparkling. In humor? Appreciation? I had no idea.

Jason Mallory was still too gorgeous for words. He wore swim trunks and a tank top, as if he’d planned to do exactly what

I had done. But with his risky behavior, he’d probably scale the cliffs and dive headfirst into the rock-strewn cove.

I hoped it was too dark for him to see my red face, raw from embarrassment as I snatched my bra from his hand. He didn’t look

away. I wanted to run behind a tree and dress, but I didn’t. I stood in front of him, put on my bra, then pulled my shirt

over my head. I was wet; now my shirt was wet. This night was getting better and better.

With humor, he asked, “You didn’t bring a towel?”

“I wasn’t planning on going swimming.”

“A spontaneous streak, too.”

“Argh!”

He was impossible. Why oh why had I gone skinny dipping? I was smarter than this! Yet... it was thrilling that he was here.

Amanda and Jane wouldn’t believe that I’d jumped naked into a lagoon or that the hottest guy on the island watched me dress.

I wished he’d shown up sooner, before I decided to channel my inner Grams. It might have been nice, sitting on the small beach, looking at the stars with someone who—even though he was absolutely not my type, and I wouldn’t in a million years have sex with him—seemed smart and fun and probably knew everything about the island and the people on it.

“Goodbye,” I said.

“You’re going to walk back to the resort like that?”

I knew how hard it would be to pull on jeans over wet skin. “Do you have a problem?”

“Nope. No problem at all.”

I waved one hand at the formerly blissful cavern and grabbed my jeans with the other. “It’s all yours.”

“Stay.”

“I—what?” I must have heard him wrong.

He gestured to a picnic basket I hadn’t noticed before. “I have some snacks, a couple beers. I don’t mind sharing.”

Could he see the surprise on my face?

“Um—” No. No, I’m not staying. But I didn’t say that.

“You’re cute when you’re flustered and blushing.” He grinned. “You’re kinda fun to throw off-balance.”

I literally froze. I had no idea what to say or do. He was definitely flirting.

“One beer,” he said. “We don’t even have to talk. We’ll just sit here and enjoy the peace.” The way he looked at me, as if

he could see inside me, had me wanting to do anything he asked. “Then I’ll walk you back to your cabin. The island is safe,

but you never know.”

“The missing woman.” I cleared my throat, my mouth suddenly dry. “Diana Harden.”

“I figured everyone heard about what happened. She disappeared on St. John, not here.”

“Did you meet her?” I needed to get Jason to stop looking at me as if he wanted to know more about me. As if... as if he was attracted and wanted to kiss me. Because if he asked me a question, I’d tell him anything he wanted to know. Right then and there, I was an open book.

“I meet everyone.” He shrugged. “I’m the bartender. Everyone comes to the bar.”

I knew I shouldn’t stay. But... what could go wrong? Jason was friendly, and I no longer felt nervous around him. In fact,

he was a bit hard to resist. I might as well embrace the wild side I didn’t know I had until tonight.

“Okay,” I said. “One beer.”

Jason looked pleasantly surprised that I had agreed, and pulled two beers from the basket, popped off the tops, and handed

me one.

“To new friends and new adventures,” he said, and clinked the neck of his bottle against mine.

I had nothing better to add, so I nodded and drained half the beer in one long gulp.

Jason’s gaze turned intense, all his focus and attention aimed at me. It was heady and disconcerting, almost overwhelming.

I wanted to kiss him.

My lips parted, and I tried to say something, anything, to break the surprisingly easy silence. Did he know what I was thinking?

I think he did... and he was thinking the same thoughts.

He touched the sensitive skin behind my ear, and a shiver ran through me. The good kind, the shiver of anticipation, the heat

of expectation that when our lips touched, it would be perfect.

He smiled, just a tiny curve of his lips. I could swear I was releasing pheromones right and left, and they were calling this

man to me. He leaned forward. I could almost taste him.

It was going to happen, and I knew it would be everything I expected from a man like Jason Mallory. Everything and more.

A scream pierced the night.

The scream sounded straight out of a horror movie.