“I know, but it seems like such a waste not to use the plane tickets and the resort reservations.”
“Doesn’t Royce have those?” He was pretty sure the groom usually took care of stuff like that.
“No, the honeymoon was a gift from Daddy, like the house, but I made the reservations in my name. Royce didn’t want to be bothered with the details.”
When she looked up at him with those soft green eyes full of temptation, he swore the alligators were circling.
“I promise we’ll have a good time, Buddy Lee. When was the last time you had an honest-to-goodness fun vacation?”
That was like asking when the last time was he’d had a birthday party. He could answer both questions with one word. Never.
He was totally confused. How could she gush tears like a faucet one minute and be so smiley-faced the next? “Aren’t you the least bit afraid your daddy will come tearing after us?
Sure wouldn’t be hard for him to figure out where we’d gone.”
Taking his hand, she led him back to the makeshift bed on the floor and pulled him down beside her. She sat with her legs curled around and leaned in so she could look straight into his eyes. “I never got around to telling him the name of the resort,” she admitted. “Or even that I’d picked Mexico as our destination. Royce doesn’t know, either, because I wanted to surprise him.”
Buddy Lee didn’t know whether to laugh or run scared. With her body pressing smack up against him like their being married was as normal as a Texas ninety-degree day, his own temperature soared. If she had any more surprises tonight, there was one in particular he’d like to suggest. Damn straight!
“Mexico, huh?”
Well, why not? He’d use the time to figure out what to do about Royce and decide how he was going to support a ready-made family. His life had already spun a three-sixty. Might as well enjoy the ride before he got dizzy and fell off. “What time do we leave?”
“A
ll I need is for you to keep an eye on the shop for a few days, Scooter. The security alarm’s all set. You know the code if you have to get in for any reason.”
Buddy Lee held the phone in one hand and flipped through a stack of invoices on his desk with the other while he waited for his friend’s answer.
“But, how will I get
ahold
of you if I need to?” The gravelly voice vibrated in Buddy Lee’s ear. “What if somethin’ happens, like an emergency?”
He sighed. He’d already explained as much as he was going to, but obviously Scooter didn’t think there was enough detail. Oh, he was trustworthy, no question about it, but sometimes his nosiness got to be a real pain in the butt.
“Nothing’s going to happen, Scooter. I’ll check in with you every night, okay?”
“But, where will you ....”
“
Scooterrrr
....” He warned, not bothering to hide his irritation.
“Yeah, yeah, okay. I got it, man. If anyone asks, I don’t know nothin’, right?”
The disappointment in Scooter’s voice came through loud and clear, but Buddy Lee wasn’t giving in. “Right. And hey, thanks.
I owe you one.”
Scooter was still muttering when Buddy Lee dropped the phone back in place.
With that business taken care of and the last customer driving out of the service stall, he finally managed to take a deep breath before he checked the time. Hang it all, if they were going to make it to the airport by noon, he’d have to hustle his butt.
Pocketing the day’s receipts, he took less than twenty minutes to lock up the shop and get home. Fifteen minutes for a shower, another fifteen to throw some clean clothes in his duffle, and he was on the road to Granite City. But before he picked Faith up at her apartment, he had one more stop to make.
Y
eah, this was Paradise, all right, Buddy Lee thought later that day as he adjusted his sunglasses to lessen the glare of the Mexican sun.
The sleepy little village of
Dos
Lunas
lay on the curved beach of a lagoon as aquamarine as any jewel he’d ever seen.
Come to think of it, the few jewels he
had
seen were limited to those worn by his customers, most often Beryl Morgan.
With white sands stretching from one end of the spit of land to the other, the solitary atmosphere promised privacy from the intrusion of everyday turmoil. No one hurried. No one wanted to. After only a short time in residence, Buddy Lee discovered that adapting to the slower pace of the village was easier than he’d expected.
Frothy waves licked the edge of the sand, leaving a momentary fringe of bubbles in their wake. Silly sandpipers darted along searching for tidbits while noisy seagulls dipped and chased each other, vying for a choice seafood snack.
From his beach chair, he watched Faith dozing on a nearby chaise lounge, her golden skin bathed by late-afternoon sunlight. His breath hung like dead weight in his chest. The modest one-piece swimsuit she wore clung to her curves tighter than the pink skin of a ripe peach, yet showed no hint of her newly discovered pregnancy. Only the slight fullness of her breasts suggested changes to come, but right now all he could think about was wanting to touch them, kiss them. Damned if his mouth didn’t start to water.
Out of necessity he ran down the beach, belly-flopped into the water and swam like he had a great white shark chasing him. No ‘gators in saltwater. His arms sliced through the salty waves, taking him away from the temptation that dogged him constantly.
He’d fought with his conscience throughout the entire flight across the border. The inner battle had continued as they bounced along a dusty road in the battered yellow bus, finally reaching the exclusive resort hidden on a crooked finger of land that wasn’t even on a map. Reconciling the recklessness of their actions didn’t come easy. Justifying their quickie marriage was even more disturbing. But his biggest dilemma was wanting Faith.
He swam until the ache went away–temporarily, he was pretty sure. Knowing he couldn’t stay in the water forever, he flipped over and back-stroked easily to where the shallow water slid up on the sand, then made his way across the beach to Faith.
He nudged the side of the chaise with his knee. “Better wake up,
darlin
’, before you turn into a crispy critter.”
Green eyes opened slowly, squinting up at him. With a smile wide and welcoming, she stretched, cat-like, then patted the lounge for him to sit beside her.
Why does she keep doing that?
He wondered if she was totally immune to the jolt of electricity arcing between them.
Was he the only one who felt it? Hell, it was strong enough to power a lighthouse.
“Isn’t this perfect?” She swept her arms in a wide circle.
“It’s so private, no one will ever find us.”
“Sounds great, but we can’t stay here forever.” He ran his hands through his wet hair, grabbed a towel and tied it around his waist before he sat next to her. The reason was entirely too obvious.
“I know,” she said, “but let’s pretend, okay? Just for a few days, let’s imagine our world is perfect.”
The silent plea hidden in her lighthearted words nudged at a tender spot in his heart. Shoot, hadn’t she always wanted to pretend something or other when they were younger? Her pretending had gotten him into some mighty sticky situations, but none as hazardous at this. Back then, it was just a game. Now they were playing for real.
“That would be quite a stretch of the imagination.”
They were sitting close enough for his legs, still wet from his swim, to stick to her damp, sun-warmed ones. The fragrance of her coconut-scented suntan lotion mingled with the salty tang of sea spray, blurred his senses with a longing so intense he had to grind his teeth to keep from groaning out loud. At this rate, he was gonna need a bite guard.
She grew quiet and rested her head on his shoulder. There was something disarmingly trusting in the way she relaxed against him, prompting him to slip his arm around her and let his imagination stretch.
So sue me.
His conscience was the only one who heard him.
“At least say you’ll try,” she implored. “We may never see a paradise like this again.”
Isn’t that the truth?
Thinking about what might be waiting for them when they got back to Liberty gave him heartburn that no antacid could cure. It wasn’t gonna be Paradise, for damn sure. But then, neither was this hands-off friends-only marriage.
“You always did like
playin
’ ‘Let’s Pretend’, didn’t you?”
He slid off the chaise without waiting for her answer.
“C’mon, you’ve had enough sun. Time to go inside.” He grabbed up their belongings, cramming them into the ridiculous fish-shaped beach bag she’d brought along.
When they’d arrived at the resort earlier, she’d insisted on catching the last rays of late afternoon sun, so they’d hurried to the eye-
squintingly
bright, white sand beach. They had yet to talk about the important stuff. But he planned to correct that oversight as soon as they got back to their room.
The one with the king-sized water bed, well-stocked mini-bar and sunken
jacuzzi
. He rolled his eyes heavenward.
Give me strength.
Faith hopped up from the lounge and shoved her feet into bright pink plastic flip-flops she’d purchased earlier in the hotel gift shop. Without warning, a tidal wave of nausea flooded her, swamping her with its merciless force. Dizzying brightness flashed behind her closed eyes and she cried out. Buddy Lee grabbed her right before she crumpled in the sand.
The first thing she saw when she came to was the slow- circling blades of the overhead fan. She squeezed her eyes shut and groaned.
Whup
,
whup
,
whup
. Even the sound was dizzying.
“Please turn it off. The whole room is spinning.”
Perched on the edge of the bed next to her, Buddy Lee jumped up to hit the wall switch and shut the fan off as soon as she spoke. “Holy
shi
...shoot, Faith, you scared the daylights out of me.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” She tried opening her eyes again, this time a little slower. The room still spun.
S
omething bitter and scalding churned in her stomach and rushed up the back of her throat.
Oh, no.
She tried to get out of the bed but her limbs tingled and refused to move.
“Buddy Lee. Bathroom. Quick.”
Afterwards, a little weak and totally humiliated, she sipped a glass of ginger ale and took small bites of the plain crackers brought by the concerned housekeeper who appeared after Buddy Lee’s frantic call to the concierge.
The Mexican woman had known exactly what Faith needed as soon as she’d seen her in the bathroom, paying homage at the porcelain altar.
“Poor
mamacita
,” she’d crooned in broken English as she scurried about. In no time, she had helped Faith into a
nightie
, settled her quietly in bed with a pat on the cheek and given Buddy Lee a verbal list of instructions complete with arm-waving and head-shaking. He nodded like he’d understood.
Faith watched him thank the woman for her kindness and press some bills into her hand. Hard-earned money from his Saturday customers, no doubt. His easy way of putting others' needs before his own had always been hard for her to understand.
Especially when most of the time he had less than the average person. It was common knowledge that before he was sent to prison, Boyd Walker had little concern for his son. Some even suspected there’d been physical abuse, but no one stepped forward to help. Out of necessity, Buddy Lee had learned to fend for himself at an early age.
Her heart stumbled, remembering how he’d always been willing to help her out of her self-inflicted predicaments. And here he was after all those years, still solving her problems.
He is definitely a better person than I am.
“
Feelin
’ better,
hon
?” Buddy Lee closed the door and returned to her bedside.
The sun had already added a healthy tan to his face, but Faith noticed creases of concern wrinkling his brow.
“A little. I’m really sorry I spoiled our first day here.
I think I got too much sun.” She reached for the cloth the woman had left in a water basin on the nightstand.
Buddy Lee took it from her and used it to gently bathe her forehead. “Being pregnant might have something to do with it, too.” His crooked grin delighted her.
“Yeah, that too,” she admitted, turning her face to give him better access.
As he lightly stroked the cool cloth along her cheekbones and across her temples, she gave herself over to the soothing sensation. Totally relaxed, she drifted in and out of a dream-like state, allowing air-brushed images that looked suspiciously like Buddy Lee to tease and tempt. Sexy images she wanted to hang on to which suddenly disappeared the minute blunt, slightly rough, and definitely male fingertips traced her lips.