Beginning with Forever (11 page)

I’m
especially terrified of heights, and he wants me to go zip lining. Is he out of his crazy mind or am I for considering it? But why not, I’ve already broken my rule of no complicated relationships, and besides, I’m too stubborn to let him think I’m a wimp. “Sure, sounds fun,” my voice is quiet and weak. He gathers my books, folds my beach blanket and points me in the direction of his vehicle.

We approach a BMW SUV of some sort.
Oh yeah, how did I forget he’s rich?
I wonder how expensive this vehicle is if his little gold watch is worth $75,000.
I hesitate before crossing over to the passenger side, still wondering what’s gotten into me. “Is something wrong,” he asks. I shake my head, trying not to ruin the moment with my uncalled dislike for his well-to-do background. The door is courteously opened for me, and my belongings are neatly placed in the backseat before he jumps in on his side. What a gentleman, I note. He reaches over to buckle my seatbelt and then his and tells me, “You have no idea what a speed demon I am.” He playfully narrows his eyes at me and then speeds off. The tires spin a white cloud of dust and flying pebbles behind us.

“Should I
be nervous?” I half-seriously ask. After all, I know nothing about this man, so why the heck did I agree to get into his SUV? What’s so special about him? I just don’t get it. My left brain is fighting hard to convince me that this is all a big mistake.

“No
, not at all,” he answers calmly. I remain focused on the winding road ahead and so does he. His phone rings, cutting through the silence with a male voice that’s amplified through the truck’s sound system.

“Hello, Mr. Bradley,
everything is taken care of. I found the perfect villa for your month’s stay on the island. You’ll be able to move in tomorrow, and the rest of your things will be delivered the following day,” the serious, monotonous voice confirms.

“Great
job, Owen,” Mr. Bradley replies with satisfaction.

“Is there anything else
I can do for you, sir?” the voice asks.

“No
,” he replies and disconnects the call.

S
urprisingly, I’m ecstatic to hear that we’ll have an entire month to get acquainted as I eavesdrop on their conversation. “Who’s Owen?” I nosily pry.

“He’
s my personal assistant. I work for a sizable corporation, and my list of responsibilities is unreal, so Owen helps me tackle some of the minor ones.”

I’
m starting to realize that Mr. Bradley is no ordinary man who works a nine-to-five job. My stomach feels more squeamish, knowing that he might be wealthier than I initially thought. I’d never fit into his snooty world, nor would I want to. It’s not just the money that bothers me. I especially hate the arrogance associated with it. Many rich people, with a few exceptions, can be extremely cruel with their judgment of underprivileged people. I’ve been a recipient of such cruelty going through middle and high school, so I prefer to quarantine my life from all that shallowness whenever possible. I almost appear apathetic as I struggle to suppress my prejudice, but fail miserably.

He
addresses my immediate change in mood, “Hello…Miss Ly… are you here? You zoned me out for a few seconds.” He waves his free hand in front of me.

I
look into his eyes and question him at point blank, “How are you able to play hooky for a month with all your responsibilities?”

“I’
ll work from here when needed, and Owen will handle the rest, but let’s not waste our time together talking about my work. I want to know more about you. Where can I begin?” he inquires sincerely. I’m thrilled to hear him avoid boasting about his work. He’s not self-absorbed, another attribute to offset his wealth, I remind myself and smile appreciatively inside.

“You already
know that I’m a medical-resident. I’m irrationally terrified of heights and snakes, love ‘80s music, Italian food and photography. I hate melted ice cream, and can’t swim to save my life or anyone else’s. I’m an only child, but never once suffered from that
syndrome
. I’m a quarter Chinese and a quarter Vietnamese and the rest is American. I know that’s a little confusing. My mother is half Chinese and Vietnamese and my father is American. Oh, and one last thing, I believe Mr. Happy Ending only exists in movies. That’s it… that’s me in a plain nutshell,” I divulge to him with a docile smile. “What about you?” I counter.

“I’m
also an only child and might slightly suffer from that
syndrome
.” He winks at me. “I enjoy all kinds of sports, music, and food, hate any kind of condiments, and I’m an incredible swimmer, so you’re in good hands if we’re ever shipwrecked together. I’m American with a possible hint of Italian, so my parents tell me. And who in their right mind hates any form of ice cream even when it’s melted?” He disapprovingly shakes his head with a silly wry smile. I shrug my shoulders and proudly raise my left hand.

“Hate condiments
? Not even ketchup for french fries?” I ask, shocked by his idiosyncrasy. “Who eats them without that yummy, tangy sauce?”

“
Me! I especially hate ketchup and mustard! The smell of it makes me gag,” he reconfirms with a look of disgust, nose and eyes crinkled.

“
We’ll touch on the
only child syndrome
at a later time. This topic will require at least an entire day to discuss.” I narrow my eyes playfully to simulate an austere expression while his is more mischievous.

“Perfect, I’m guaranteed another day with you
.” His tone suddenly turns serious, and I’m caught off guard. “Oh, there’s one more thing you need to know about me. I suffer from a chronic illness called workaholism,” he adds.

I c
an barely contain my chuckling. “Work-a-what? Is that contagious?” I ask him lightheartedly. The earlier tension between us starts to melt away as I loosen up.

“
I hear that you can easily catch it from kissing workaholic strangers on a deserted beach,” he counters my teasing. “We’ll have to change our plans for today. I hate to scare you off on our first date…I mean day…together…by forcing you to overcome your fear of heights.” He stumbles over his word after realizing he just slipped and called our adventure a date. “I’ll take a rain check, so you’re not completely off the hook with it,” he smirks and regains his confidence with ease. “We’ll go deep sea fishing instead. You’ll enjoy the clear ocean water. And no need to worry about drowning, you’ll never be out of my sight.”

Just
terrific…another sport that I’m incapable of doing,
I gripe to myself.

He calls Owen immediately and ask
s him to book a private fishing boat for us.
Good luck with that
, I think. It’ll be a miracle to find someone available in fifteen minutes.

It’s unbelievable what money can do. After about fifteen minutes, Carson
cautiously pulls up close to a private dock with Owen’s direction, and I see a mid-sized charter boat with a fishing guide waiting for us.

“
Hello, I’m Henri,” the guide greets and offers me his hand to step into his boat. He’s tall, over six feet for sure, lean, muscular and has light blonde hair and freckles. His skin is gorgeously golden from the constant sun exposure, I’m speculating. He looks young, maybe mid-twenties and has an adorable, youthful smile. “Mr. Bradley, welcome aboard,” Henri addresses him professionally. Carson shakes his hand firmly. They stand facing each other, eye to eye, being of equal height.

Henri
obtains two lifejackets hidden under a cushion bench and offers one to Carson. He proceeds to assist me with mine, but Carson steps territorially in between us. “Henri, I’ll help Miss Ly with hers,” he asserts. My jacket is zipped up the center as he admires my face. I follow his hands with my eyes as he reaches around either side of my waist for the straps and secures them safely around me. Tipping my chin up to face him, he tenderly reassures, “You’ll always be safe with me.” I wonder if he can sense the desire that grows inside me whenever he’s this close to me. I want to reach for his neck and pull him in for a kiss, but I fight the urge. He releases me and safely secures his lifejacket on himself as well.

Henri back
s the boat out and navigates far into the deep. I’ve acquired a real appreciation for the scent of salty, ocean water with fresh air after living here for over six months. We’re jostled in the boat for about twenty minutes before Henri declares this area to be a good fishing spot. He kills the engine and goes over a list of safety instructions before handing over the heavy fishing gears to us. Carson takes over and demonstrates the proper angling technique with finesse. It’s impressive to watch him skillfully handle his rod. I swear anyone could easily mistake him for a professional fisherman. “You’re really good at this, Fisherman Bradley,” I compliment him.

“My father loves fishing
, so he took me with him every chance he had. He taught me everything I know.” He winks at me. I struggle with my rod while he secures his in place. He sidesteps over and stands closely behind me. His arms wrap around mine and my hands and then he helps me cast my line far out into the water. “And that’s how you do it, Miss Ly,” he instructs and helps me secure my rod.

“
It’s easy for you to say. This is my first time fishing in the ocean. I’m a virgin at this.” I turn my head to face him and shyly smile.

He chuckles and pulls my back
side snugly against his chest. I crave his closeness, but my left brain keeps telling me it’s too soon. “You seem to offer a lot of virginal opportunities, Miss Ly. I’m anxious to unbridle them all,” he teases and purposely makes it harder for me to resist him with his sultry voice, alluring scent and overwhelming charm. I ignore my left brain and welcome his toned arms around my waist as we stand there, staring out at the entrancing cobalt blue waves. Cool tropical breeze fans against our faces, making my hair fly every which way. He attempts to gather dark strands of flowing hair and holds them over to one side of my neck. With his chin resting on my opposite shoulder, I feel his warm, sweet breath along the nape of my neck.
Fight the temptation,
I encourage myself.

“
There’s something about you Miss Ly, something that tells me I need you in my life. I want to know every little detail about you. What makes you happy because I’d do it over and over again just to see your beautiful smile or what makes you shy away because it’s so damn cute when you do it.”

I gasp, hearing the
sincerity in his gentle voice. It’s enough to make me blush from head to toe.

“I especially want to know what makes you bite your
nails or lower lip because it’s incredibly sexy,” he continues.

How do I respond to something like that?
Fortunately for me, my rod shakes aggressively on cue. Carson quickly places his hands over mine and helps me steady my rod. Holy crap, it’s harder to reel this fish in than I expected. I’m grateful for Carson’s strong arms because mine are tiring quickly. We fight it for at least half an hour and then finally see it, a beautiful crescent-shaped swordfish with bluish gray coloring along its dorsal side. I can’t believe what an amazing experience this is, but as I continue to watch it struggle for its life, sadness fills me, making me emotional. I couldn’t stand to watch it hurt anymore, so I plead for its life. “Mr. Bradley, can we please release it? It’s in pain.”

He completely agrees
and cuts the line free. “Miss Ly, your compassion is one of the many reasons I’m under your spell.”

“Really, d
o you have a list for me, Mr. Bradley?” I curiously ask him.

“Yes I do a
nd it’s Carson to you, Miss Ly,” he replies promptly.

“Well then it’s Lil or Lily for me, that’s what my friends and family call me.”
His grin grows wide, enjoying the idea that he’s now in my friends and family category instead of stranger. I’m ecstatic to know that he’s as enamored by me as I am of him. The pull between us is obvious. I couldn’t ask for a better beginning with my mystery man who’s slowly becoming less mysterious.

A
fter we released the fish, Carson asks me if I’m ready to see land again. I happily shake my head, and he gives Henri a hand signal to turn the boat around. Twenty minutes later, Henri docks the boat into its personal spot, drops the anchor and secures the line. I thank him kindly for an awesome adventure with an innocent smile while he offers me a flirtatious one in return. Carson has an exasperated expression on his face as he observes my interaction with Henri. My, oh my, Mr. Bradley has a jealous side, I mentally note. I wonder if this is due to his only child syndrome. Though I’m also an only child, I’m proud to say that I don’t share any of their downfalls. I pay no attention to his silent tantrum as I continue my small talk with Henri. I refuse to condone bad manners.

Carson do
esn’t like that I’m ignoring his silent jealous tantrum and decides to correct the situation his way. He confidently steps in between us, shakes Henri’s hand and places his free arm possessively around my waist. His boldness surprises me, not in a good way either. I complete my farewell with Henri while remaining fixed in Carson’s arm, slightly irritated. This is a man who’s not afraid to stake his claim. We’re not even dating yet, and he’s already overprotective. This doesn’t sit well with me, and I’m not afraid to let him know it either.