Page 3 of Duty and Desire

Chapter Two

Gio

T his was a mistake.

The sun shone, there’d been no rain for two days, and the temperature was a pleasant seventy-eight degrees.

None of that mattered.

I’d been there a week, and thus far I hadn’t written one goddamn word.

Not one.

No ideas.

No inspiration.

And far from being relaxed, I was climbing the walls of my beautiful bungalow.

I’d emailed my publisher before I left San Francisco, outlining my plans for the next four months. I’d asked him not to apply any pressure, especially if he wanted G. Meyer to produce another bestseller.

Except the pressure wasn’t coming from him, but from me.

This wasn’t the reset I was looking for. I’d driven all around the island, hoping for inspiration to strike. I’d sat in bars, strolled on the beaches, people-watched…

Zilch.

Sure, the island was a tropical paradise, a welcome change from the climate in San Francisco, and so much beauty surrounding me that at times it amounted to overload.

But as for the purpose of this trip? So far that was turning out to be a damp squib.

In my darkest moments, only one thought consumed me.

Am I ever going to write again?

My deepest fear was my lack of direction.

I don’t know why I write anymore.

Since my arrival, I’d gotten into a routine. Every morning I sat at the table on the veranda, staring out at the passing boats, the clouds drifting across, the planes delivering new visitors, taking them home… My notebook sat next to my laptop, ready to be filled.

The same notebook that lay open now, my pen resting on a blank page. And that right there was the problem.

My mind is a blank page.

“Gio?”

I jumped. “Aulani, you’d make a great assassin. I didn’t even hear the gate.”

She came over to stand beside me. “Good morning. I was passing, so I thought I’d clear away your breakfast things. If I am disturbing you, I’ll go.”

I huffed. “Trust me, you’re not disturbing me in the slightest.”

She touched the pile of books on the table. “What are these?”

I sighed. “I’ve been reading a lot, waiting to be inspired.”

She said nothing, but gazed at me with a thoughtful expression.

I leaned back in my chair. “Do you have any fantastic ideas for a novel? Because right now I’ll take whatever I can get.” It wasn’t an entirely humorous remark.

Aulani laid her hand on my shoulder, a comforting touch .

“Gio… I think you need to let go of your expectations. Be spontaneous.”

I hadn’t expected such an eloquent offering. Swift on its heels, however, came a pinch of irritation.

How can she say a thing like that? She doesn’t even know me.

Then I remembered she’d been nothing but kind to me. She was trying to help.

I huffed again. “I thought that’s what I was doing.”

She shook her head. “I’ve watched you this week. You say you’re waiting to be inspired. But maybe inspiration will come when you stop trying so hard to look for it.” Then she went into the bungalow. A moment later, I heard her humming as she washed the breakfast dishes.

Her words still rang in my head.

I was trying hard, there was no denying it. Maybe even too hard, like she said.

How do I embrace spontaneity?

I didn’t have a clue.

“Don’t have lunch here today,” Aulani called out from the kitchen. “Go to Kai’s bar and eat there.”

“Any particular reason why?”

She stood in the doorway. “A break from your routine?” She shrugged. “Maybe just a feeling?”

I bit back a smile. “And do you get many of these feelings?”

She let out a chuckle. “Yes, I do. You ask any of my children about their mother’s hunches, and they’ll all tell you the same thing. ‘If mother says do something, do it.’”

She was right about one thing. A break would do me good.

I closed my notebook. “Fine. I’ll go see what’s on offer at the bar.” I pushed my chair back. “Apart from Kai’s lethal cocktails.” They weren’t that bad—in fact they were pretty damn good—and although I wasn’t the sort of person who drank in the middle of the day, maybe it was time I changed that.

Who knows? It might even help .

I’d try anything once. Writers love to cite Ernest Hemingway’s famous advice, ‘write drunk, edit sober.’ Trouble was, Hemingway never actually said that. If anything, he advocated writing sober.

Yeah, but it might be fun trying to disprove that theory.

Kai placed a tall glass in front of me, its contents a blend of red and orange, an umbrella speared through a piece of pineapple, a cherry bobbing in it. “You’ll like this. And the shrimp won’t be long.”

I removed the paper umbrella and took a sip. “Okay, that’s good.” I could taste juice, but there was also a good measure of rum in there.

“So how’s the writing going?”

I snorted. “It isn’t.” Then I smiled. “Maybe I should write about you. The flirtatious, confident bartender who always seems to be in a good mood. You could be my main character.” I might have only been on Bora-Bora for a week, but I’d made two friends—Kai and Aulani.

Kai was good for a laugh, and I needed that.

He was also very easy on the eye.

Kai laughed. “Not me, man. This is my whole life. No hobbies, no interests…. Your readers would be asleep by the end of the first page.” He glanced over my shoulder and smiled. “Thanks, Nick. Stick it behind the bar.”

I turned to discover who Nick was.

He was in maybe his mid-twenties with a shock of unruly black hair, a beard stuck someplace between five o’clock shadow and a baby beard, dark brown eyes, and a sweet smile. He carried a large box in both hands.

“Sure thing. Tamaroa apologized. Seems the delivery guy didn’t read the address label correctly.” There was a trace of an accent, not Tahitian, not French, but something vaguely European.

Kai nodded. “Yeah, he called to say you were bringing it over.”

Nick gave a wave of his hand. “See you around.” Then he was gone .

Kai watched him go, and I didn’t miss the gleam in his eyes.

“So is this Nick someone you’re interested in?” I had a feeling Kai batted for both teams—he flirted with everyone.

Kai chuckled. “He’s cute, but he isn’t my type. He’s a strange one, though.”

I frowned. “He didn’t strike me as strange.” Attractive, sure, but there’d been nothing out of the ordinary about him.

He leaned forward, his elbows on the bar.

“He’s worked all over the island. He’s a lifeguard at one of the swanky resorts.

He gives lessons in water sports, he works on one of the glass-bottomed boats that take tourists out to feed sharks, manta-rays, barracudas, he takes tourists out in a motorboat to explore the lagoon, he tends bar… ”

I was impressed. “He sounds like a hard-working guy.”

“Oh, he is, but…” Kai’s brow furrowed. “Nick’s been living on the island for two, three years now, and I don’t know a damn thing about him.”

I smirked. “Just because you’re an open book doesn’t mean everyone else has to be.”

His eyebrows shot up. “But to know absolutely nothing about him? That’s just weird.” Then he stilled. “Hey, now there’s an idea.”

“What is? You’ve lost me.”

He inclined his head in the direction Nick had taken.

“You want a main character for a book? What about Nick?” He narrowed his gaze.

“You mark my words. There’s more to him than meets the eye.

” Kai grinned. “Aw, come on. There’s got to be a story there, right?

And if there isn’t, you could invent one.

” His eyes sparkled. “Why is he here? What is he running from? Why is he so secretive?”

I laughed. “Ever thought it might only be you he doesn’t engage with because he knows what a flirt you are?”

Kai wagged a finger. “I’m telling you, there’s a mystery to be solved. You wait and see.”

“So what do you propose I do about it? Stalk him?”

He cackled. “Nah. Keep an eye out for him, though. Do that for a couple of days, and I guarantee the ideas will start flowing.”

I was not about to follow a guy all over the island.

Kai had succeeded in piquing my interest, however.

That was a good start.