Prize of a Lifetime
Donna Hill
It's the prize of a lifetime: one million dollars and your own hotel. All Sasha Carrington has to do is beat the competition on the new TV show Heartbreak Hotel.The daily challenges test her creative flair and business acumen, but it's fellow contestant Mitchell Davenport who's pushing her emotions to the limit. Before they knew they'd be rivals, Mitchell and Sasha shared two smoldering, unforgettable nights in Antigua. Mitchell–as fine as he is ambitious–was immediately drawn to Sasha's warmth and earthy sensuality. Now, winning is the only thing that matters to both…but what are they willing to lose to get there?
PRIZE OF A LIFETIME
Prize of a Lifetime
Donna Hill
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
To all my readers who have ever dreamed of that one-in-a-million opportunity in love and life, this book is for you!
And to my brand-new grandson, Caylib, who is truly a blessing to us.
Enjoy,
Donna
Special thanks to my ever-patient editor, Glenda Howard, and my intrepid agent, Pattie, for always finding a way to work through my drama, LOL. Thanks, ladies.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 1
The letter weighed heavily in Sasha Carrington’s purse. For two weeks she’d carried it around like a talisman, still not believing the words she’d read over and over at least a dozen times. The only person she’d shared her good fortune with was her best friend, April Harris, and only because it was April who’d insisted that she submit her name and qualifications. Sasha had been reluctant to say the least. I’ve never won anything in my life, she’d groused to herself even as she’d sealed the envelope and dropped it in the mailbox more than five months earlier. Now her future was only a plane ride away, that is, if she could ever get off work, tie up some loose ends and pack her bags.
The instant Sasha spotted Brenda sauntering through the door, she signed off her computer with a swipe of her Summit Hotel identification card. She purposely ignored Brenda’s syrupy-sweet greeting which she should have given almost an hour earlier. That was no one’s fault but John Ellis, the manager, Sasha inwardly fumed. Brenda got away with murder and John turned a blind eye. Had it been her coming into work even ten minutes late, he’d be threatening to write her up.
“Anything I need to know about reservations?” Brenda asked while she settled in behind the counter.
Sasha cut her a look sharp enough to slice glass. “Guess what, I really don’t have the time to explain—with you getting here so late and all,” she added just loud enough for Carol, the reservationist at the end of the counter to hear.
Brenda flushed momentarily and tossed her head, flipping her very expensive weave over her shoulder. “Fine.” She dismissed Sasha with an arched brow, put on her commercial-ready smile and moved into greeting mode as a handsome, well-dressed man approached the desk.
Sasha sighed as she watched Brenda work her usual spell around him, the way she did with every man who came within sniffing distance. His soft brown eyes didn’t even register that Sasha was on the same planet. She retrieved her purse from beneath the desk, said goodbye to Carol and pushed through the revolving doors and out into the humid Savannah evening. She adjusted the strap on her purse higher on her shoulder and headed for the parking lot across the street from the four-story hotel.
“Humph, humph, humph,” a man who appeared to be in his early thirties murmured as she passed. “Love a sistah with some meat on her bones.” He licked his lips like the wolf with Little Red Riding Hood on his plate.
Sasha’s stomach flipped when he grinned, baring a row of missing teeth. She shook her head and kept walking, trying not to let the obvious get her down. A fine looking businessman walks into the hotel and doesn’t blink in her direction, yet a toothless, my-job-is-to-stand-on-this-corner man gives her a big shout-out. What is wrong with that picture? she thought as she deactivated the alarm on her car.
She slid behind the wheel, leaving the door open while she turned the ignition of her ten-year-old Honda Accord in the hope of releasing some of the tightly-packed heat trapped inside. She pressed the button for the air conditioning and inhaled a blast of hot air.
“Damn, it’s hot.” She pulled open the glove compartment and took out a wad of napkins that she’d collected from her various pit stops. She flipped down the visor mirror and peered at her reflection before dabbing her face. Hmmm, she needed a touch-up—badly. And when was the last time she’d tweezed her brows? She’d all but chewed off her lipstick. No wonder the only catcall she could get was from a toothless hobo. She flipped the mirror back in place.
When the car had sufficiently cooled she closed the door, buckled up and headed for her second job—the family catering business, Carrington Caterers. Between her real job at the hotel, the evenings at the family business and the classes two weekends per month for her certification in Hospitality Management and Food Preparation, it was no wonder she looked the way she did. She didn’t have a moment to spare for herself, or for anyone else for that matter. Neville, her ex, simply couldn’t understand that she wanted more than to spend the rest of her life at the beck and call of someone else, working at something that would never be her own, which was why their ten-month relationship had ground to a halt. She had a plan for herself and she couldn’t be distracted by anything or anyone that was not part of her plan.
It was bad enough that she was off target by two years. By thirty she’d wanted to have finished her advanced degree and have her business off the ground so that she could tell the folks at the Summit Hotel just what they could kiss. Then she could buy that little house she’d had her eye on for almost five years.
In another six months she’d be finished with school and her business plan was almost completed, she mused, feeling mildly placated as she turned onto Charles Street. She zipped through a yellow light and made a right at the next corner.
She truly loved Savannah. She loved the way the late-afternoon sunlight showcased the scenery outside her window. She loved the antebellum architecture, lush greenery, landmark mansions and quaint shops. She was a Southern girl to the bone. She’d been up North a few times—New York specifically—to visit relatives. It was certainly a fabulous place, with nightlife that never seemed to end. But before her week-long visits were over, she was always ready to come home. The hustle and bustle of the Big Apple shaved a good five years off her life. The madmen behind the wheels of yellow cabs, not to mention the ludicrous policy of moving your car from one side of the street to the other on alternate days. She chuckled at the memory of her Aunt Linda jumping out of bed and running outside in her pajamas to move her car in the morning. And the noise never seemed to stop: honking horns, music blasting from car windows and she couldn’t imagine that the police and the fire department could possibly be called as often as they were in New York. It was a great city to visit, but she could never live there.
The bright blue-and-gold awning with the double C logo for Carrington Caterers loomed ahead. Sasha slowed, eyeing the street for an open parking space, the closer to the front the better. She zipped her midnight-blue Honda into a spot vacated by a gas-guzzling Suburban, beating out a Lexus by a mere bumper.
Sasha bit back a chuckle and kept her eyes straight ahead as the Lexus crawled by her. She could almost feel the cuss words bouncing off her driver’s-side window. She turned off the car, gathered her purse and tote bag and went inside as quickly as she could, eager to get out of the sticky heat and into the cool interior of the family domain.
CC had been in business for more than twenty years, starting off in her mother Grace’s kitchen on Kennisaw Road where she did “favors” for close friends who were having small gatherings or surprise family events. Grace Carrington’s homemade soul-food dinners and desserts became so popular that she outgrew her kitchen and rented the space CC now occupied. Once they were old enough, Sasha and her younger sister, Tristan, helped out. Their dad, Frank, who also knew his way around a stove, handled the books and the deliveries.
Fortunately, the recession had been kind to them. While many businesses in downtown Savannah were suffering or had closed, CC still managed to do well, all things considered, and maintained a profit. Grace firmly believed that food was the best comforter in good times and more so in bad. However, with more people becoming health-conscious and a flurry of government studies on obesity in the U.S., Sasha had been trying to convince her mother and her sister to broaden their menu to include some healthy alternatives. She urged them to serve more than the fried, buttered, gravy-laden, ham-hock-seasoned, sugar-coated foods that CC had built its reputation on. Grace and Tristan were not interested.
Sasha opened the heavy wood door and was greeted by the mouth-watering aroma of CC’s famous seasoned collard greens. Her stomach jumped in delight, but she fought back the urge. For the past four months she’d quietly embarked upon a lifestyle change, cutting back or eliminating many of the foods she’d grown up on. It was a struggle, but she was slowly winning the battle, having lost nearly twenty pounds for her efforts. Her mother’s high blood pressure, her sister huffing and puffing over the simplest activity, not to mention her Aunt Shelia’s heart attack a year earlier had put Sasha on notice. She’d gone from a solid size eighteen to a curvaceous size fourteen. She had plans, and she wanted to be around to see them fulfilled, and if she had to take her mother and her sister with her kicking and screaming, she was going to make sure that they were around to enjoy her success.
“Hey, Charise. My mom around?” Charise was Sasha’s first cousin on her mother’s side, her Aunt Shelia’s daughter. She came in after school to help out a couple of days a week.
Charise was busy on her iPhone. She didn’t make a move without it, and she barely glanced up. “In the back.” She angled her head toward the kitchen.
“Thanks. How’s school?” She patted her cousin’s shoulder as she came around the front counter.
“Graduate next year,” Charise said, as if by rote.
Sasha smiled, shook her head and walked toward the kitchen. At least Charise was still in school and didn’t have an infant on her hip like so many of the young girls in the city.
“Hey, Mom.”
Grace looked up for an instant from her task of rolling dough for the crust of her famous peach cobbler. “Hey, baby. Hand me that brown sugar,” she said with a slight lift of her double chin.
Sasha did as she was asked to the tune of banging pots and stirring spoons coming from the other side of the wall that divided the baking area from the ovens, supervised by Clyde, the only person who wasn’t family that Grace allowed in her kitchen. “Hey, Clyde,” she called out.
Clyde poked his head out, his dark brown face gleaming with sweat. He flashed her a toothy grin. “Hey, yourself. How you be?” His eyes rolled up and down her body. “Get any thinner you gone blow away.” He chuckled.
“I doubt it,” she tossed back. The Hasting women were all “big-boned” as they liked to call themselves. Her mother’s sisters, Linda and Shelia, were both double-Ds and size twenty-plus. Her grandmother had been big, too, and Sasha’s sister, Tristan, was well on her way to winning top prize. Sasha worried about all of them, but they swore that their men loved it and no one could pay them enough to pass up a good meal.
“So when are you leaving?” her mother asked, not interested in hearing another one of Sasha’s lectures on food.
Sasha leaned her hip against the counter. “My flight to Antigua leaves at seven tomorrow night.”
“You sure picked a fine time to take off on vacation. You know this is a busy time of year for us, with graduations and weddings,” her mother complained as she wiped sweat from her brow with a paper towel.
“I know. But if I don’t take my vacation now I won’t get a chance to go.”
“I still don’t know why you have to go to some island.”
Sasha had no intention of telling her family the real reason for her trip. If things didn’t work out, she didn’t want to hear “I told you so.”
Sasha went to the sink and washed her hands. She moved next to her mother and began kneading dough for the pies. “I know this is a busy time, Mom,” she began, “but this is really important to me.”
Her mother turned and looked at her daughter curiously. Her brows drew together. “What’s so important about a vacation in Antigua?”
Sasha drew in a breath. “It’s just that I’ve planned this for a while. I can’t back out now. This is the first time I’ve been out of the country.” Her voice began to bubble with enthusiasm even as she hoped her mother would share in her excitement.
Grace’s full lips were tightly pursed before the glimmer of a smile loosened them. “Be sure to bring me something. And I don’t mean a T-shirt,” she warned, wagging a rolling pin at Sasha.
The two women laughed.
“I promise I’ll do better than a T-shirt.” Sasha rolled out some dough. “Is Tristan stopping by? I was hoping to say goodbye.”
Grace shook her head slowly as she poured fresh peaches into the pan. “I sure wish you would talk to your sister. Tristan won’t listen to me.”
Sasha stopped rolling the dough and looked at her mother. “What happened now?”
“Gary again…staying out until all hours. Won’t hardly talk to Tristan. She’s making herself crazy, crying all the time.” Her mother’s heavy chest heaved as she took a breath.
“I’ll talk to her. I’ll give her a call before I leave.”
“Thank you, baby. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Sasha offered a faint smile as they worked side by side. What her mother really meant was that she depended on Sasha for everything, she always had. It was Sasha who had taken care of the house and her younger sister while their parents built the business. Even after Sasha and Tristan were old enough to help out, it was up to Sasha to make sure that Tristan was looked after, got up in time for school, dressed, did her homework, ate and attended her activities.
She must have done a pretty lousy job, Sasha thought, seeing as how Tristan had wound up with a creep like Gary. A part of her felt guilty for leaving, but it was finally time that she did something for herself.
After they’d finished with the pies, Sasha prepared to leave.
“I’ll call you before I leave. Okay?” She kissed her mother’s cheek. “If I’m not running behind, I’ll try to swing by before I go to the airport. I want to see Daddy.”
“He wouldn’t forgive you if you left without him seeing you first.”
“I know. I was hoping he would have been back by now with the deliveries.”
“Well, you go on. Just be sure to see him tomorrow. I’ll let him know you were here.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, sugar.” She pulled Sasha into a hug and kissed her forehead. “Be sure to call,” she said releasing her.
“I will.”
Back inside her car, Sasha had a momentary flash of guilt. What if something happened while she was gone? What if her brother-in-law did something crazy, and she wasn’t there to look after her sister? What if her mother’s worrying about Tristan made her blood pressure skyrocket even higher? Sasha looked toward the storefront. Maybe her mother was right. Although she didn’t come right out and say that Sasha was being selfish, it was implied in her tone and her reference to this being a “busy time.” She glanced at her purse on the passenger seat. The letter beckoned her, strengthened her resolve:
Dear Ms. Carrington, Congratulations! The producers of Heartbreak Hotel have unanimously selected you for the first-round competition…
Sasha drew in a deep breath, stuck the key in the ignition and pulled out into the light evening traffic. She had things to do. Tomorrow she was going to Antigua!
The moment Sasha stepped through the door of her one-bedroom apartment, she kicked off her shoes and turned on the air-conditioning. Instinctively, she ran her hand over her bulging ponytail that had been struggling to be released from its hair clip all day. She passed by the hall mirror and winced. Her face was framed with a thick halo of damp, unrelaxed hair and the ball at the nape of her neck resembled a mini Afro-puff. Fortunately her hair appointment was for nine in the morning and her stylist had promised that she’d hook her up with a style that would withstand the sun, heat and seawater and even some good loving.
“Humph, this I gotta see,” she mumbled peering a bit closer at her reflection.
As she headed for her bedroom she began stripping out of her standard white blouse, navy-blue skirt and matching pumps. By the time she hit the threshold she was down to her black lace undies and feeling cooler by the minute. She tossed her discarded clothing on the armchair in the corner of her room. Passing by the full-length mirror that hung on the back of her bedroom door, Sasha did a double-take. A smile broke the tight lines of her mouth as she gazed in appreciation at what her hard work and discipline had wrought. Her upper arms, which were once on the verge of “doing the bird,” were firm, with just a soft ripple. Her stomach, which normally had to be held in place by the strongest body shaper on the market, was flat and firm, curving out to the swell of her hips—not much she wanted to do about that—down to her still thick but tight thighs and dancer’s legs. She unhooked her bra and beamed when her 38Cs pointed out, not down. Then she turned sideways and—BAM. Yes, yes, yes! She did the happy dance all the way into the shower. She couldn’t wait to show off her new and improved self on the beaches of Antigua.
Chapter 2
“I am so excited for you,” April said as the airport came into view. “I know you are going to kick butt.” She made the turn into the departure lane. “I wish I could be there with you, but I’m there in spirit.”
Sasha and April had met in sixth grade, and for reasons that they could never put their fingers on, they had simply clicked. They complemented each other. Where Sasha was more reserved, April was outgoing and never hesitated to say what was on her mind. Sasha was always “thick,” as the saying goes, and April could eat a grown man under the table and never gain an ounce. April was flamboyant and Sasha was understated, preferring to stay in the background. It was April who had always been able to draw Sasha out of her shell, push her when she otherwise would have stood still. She believed in Sasha’s dreams and ambitions when not even her own family did. Had it not been for April, Sasha would have never gone through with submitting her application to the Heartbreak Hotel competition.
Sasha glanced at her friend. “I know. My stomach is doing flips. This is the first time I’ve ever been out of the country, not to mention a contestant on a reality television show.”
April patted Sasha’s balled-up fist. “You’ll be fine. If you didn’t have what they were looking for they would have never picked you. The main thing is to have a good time. Enjoy the experience, girl. Getting away from Savannah will do you a world of good no matter what happens. And I’m only a phone call away.”
Sasha drew in a deep breath. “Thanks,” she said, suddenly doubting the logic of what she was about to do.
“And you look fantastic! Just like the star you’re going to be.”
April was always good for a pep talk. Whenever Sasha felt down or doubted herself, it was April who reminded her of all of her strengths: great personality, intelligent, ambitious, pretty and a wonderful friend.
“The months in the gym and sticking to my diet have sure made a difference,” Sasha had to admit.
“You are going to have dem island boys salivating,” April said in a really bad Caribbean accent.
They laughed.
April pulled up behind a white SUV in front of Delta’s international departure gate.
“Well, here we are.” April turned to Sasha. “Ready?”
“As I will ever be.”
They hopped out of the car and took Sasha’s luggage from the trunk. She had two suitcases and a carry-on, all loaded with brand-new everything, from undies to beachwear, casual to spectacular, shoes, makeup and accessories. The duo had been shopping for weeks to make sure that whatever the occasion, Sasha would be ready and fierce.
April gathered Sasha in a tight hug. “It’s going to be great. Enjoy every minute of it,” she said in her friend’s ear. “And make sure you keep me posted on your every move. I want to live vicariously.”
“I promise.”
April signaled for a skycap to help with the bags. “You have all of your important papers, phone and personal items in your carry-on, right? Something to read?”
Sasha nodded.
“Condoms? A smart girl always carries her own.”
Sasha blushed. “Yes, ma’am,” she said, laughing.
“Good. Well…this is it, girl.”
“Did I tell you thank-you?” Sasha said.
April grinned. “About a dozen times.”
“I wish you were coming.”
“Chile, you gonna meet some fine island man and forget all about me,” April teased. “Just remember poor old me when you win that million!”
The friends embraced one last time, fighting back tears with smiles, before Sasha pushed through the revolving doors and was swallowed up amongst the crowd of travelers.
Sasha checked her luggage before moving through the long line of security, and sent up a silent prayer that it would arrive in the same place that she did. After being nearly stripped naked, she put back on her sandals, her jacket, her wristwatch and belt, returned her laptop to her bag and finally emerged into the waiting area. For a while there she’d thought she was going to have to take off her lipstick, too. She pulled her carry-on behind her, hoisted her purse up on her shoulder and went in search of an empty seat, preferably one with a view. There was still an hour to wait before her flight departed and she wanted to be as comfortable as possible.
She spotted three vacant seats in the corner near the check-in counter. Maneuvering around outstretched legs and luggage she made it to the other side of the counter and plopped down in a seat with a sigh of relief. She took a quick look around at the passengers, sizing up who was with whom and who was single, who was on vacation and who was traveling on business. She wondered how many were going all the way to Antigua and how many were getting off at the stopover in Puerto Rico. From what she could tell there was a nice cross-section, but no one that really stuck out. To occupy herself she began making up stories about the passengers, pairing up those who were single, and conjuring up images of the couples and what their lives were like. She checked her watch. A whole ten minutes had gone by. Sighing, she shifted in her seat then dug in her purse for the novel she’d brought with her.
“Anyone sitting here?”
She looked up and her heart jumped in her chest. A chocolate-brown Adonis stood above her, almost a dead ringer for Michael Jordan. “Uh, no.”
“Mind if I sit next to you?”
His voice was rich, like maple syrup with a slight drawl, she thought. “Sure. I mean, no,” she sputtered nervously.
He smiled and lowered his long, lean body into the seat, spread his thighs and pulled his bag between them.
Sasha zeroed in on her book and tried to concentrate on words that were making no sense over the tantalizing scent of his cologne. Heat pooled at her neck and flooded her face as she watched from the corner of her eye, as his slender fingers tapped against his thigh.
“That’s what I should have done,” he said.
“Uh?”
He lifted his square chin toward her book. “I should have brought something to read to kill some time.”
“Oh,” was all she could come up with.
“Are you going all the way to Antigua?”
“Yes. You?”
“Yep. First time?”
“Yes. What about you?”
“I’ve been there once. Beautiful place.” He drew in a breath and she gulped as his broad chest spread beneath his fitted black T-shirt. “Perfect weather, incredible beaches and the people are great. They have their share of poverty, but they try to keep that away from the tourists.”
“What brings you back? Business?”
“Something like that. What about you?”
She closed her book and was on the verge of telling him her amazing story, but remembered the clause in her contract. “Vacation.”
“Vacation? All alone?”
She wasn’t sure if his question was just curiosity or an indictment. “I…decided to be adventurous.”
One corner of his full mouth curved upward. “I like that. It takes a lot of courage to travel alone.” He paused. “Mitchell Davenport.” He stuck out his hand.
“Sasha Carrington.” She placed her hand in his and nearly sighed out loud when his warm fingers enveloped her hand, and his soft brown eyes crinkled at the corners.
“I should let you get back to your book. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. Really.” She offered a small smile. Say something, dummy. “Do you live in Savannah?”
“Atlanta. I’ve been thinking of relocating to Savannah. I’ve been here about a month looking at places.”
“It’s a big change from the ATL,” she teased.
He chuckled and the sound shimmied down her spine. She squeezed her knees together.
“That it is. But I like the slower pace.” He paused for a moment. “Tell you what, how about I show you around Antigua, and if we’re still speaking to each other, maybe you can show me around Savannah when we get back.”
Sasha’s mind came to a screeching halt. Were her ears playing tricks on her? Did he actually just tell her he wanted to spend time with her on a Caribbean island?
“Hey, I’m sorry,” he said when he got only a stunned look in lieu of a response. “That was out of line. You don’t know me from the man in the moon.” He suddenly stood up. “I’m going to go grab something to eat. Nice talking to you. Enjoy your trip.”
By the time her mind caught up with what was happening, Mitchell Davenport was three aisles away heading for the food court. She wanted to kick herself and could almost hear April’s cries of disbelief ring in her ears. She felt like a complete fool and wished she could disappear. Thankfully, a young couple and their little boy took up the vacant seats next to her. Now she wouldn’t have to worry about him coming back to pick up where they’d awkwardly left off. She buried her face in her book. Great start to my journey, she silently chided herself and hoped it wasn’t an indication of things to come.
Mitchell inched up on the line at Starbucks. That went well, he groused to himself, a testament to how his relationship life was going lately. What had he been thinking? That’s just it, he hadn’t been. He’d spotted Sasha Carrington the instant she’d materialized in the waiting area, and his good sense and his promise to himself to stay away from women flew out the window. She was gorgeous in an understated way, with a body to die for. She gave off an air of quiet assurance and was apparently unaware of her sensual appeal. He could still smell her soft, alluring scent and hear the way her voice stroked him from the inside out. It was completely out of character for him to trip over himself with a woman he didn’t know. But her rebuff had been a solid kick to his ego. It had reinforced his vow to remain focused on what was important: rebuilding his life and his business. Everything else could take a backseat. His ugly and painful breakup with Regina had taught him a major lesson: women don’t want a man who is down on his luck, who can’t provide for them in the fashion to which they’ve grown accustomed. He’d been devastated when Regina had told him that it was over at a time when he needed her love and support more than anything. He’d lost his restaurant and the bank had foreclosed on his home. He was struggling every day just to hold his head up, and Regina had decided she couldn’t or wouldn’t deal with his “issues,” as she called them. His manhood was attached to his wallet. And at the moment it was running on empty. But that was going to change, he thought as he paid for his purchase. If Regina did nothing else in the three years that they were together, she had taught him an invaluable lesson—no woman would ever again be able to call his manhood into question.
Mitchell returned to the waiting area and spotted Sasha just as she glanced in his direction. He made a point of walking to the other side of the waiting area to find a seat.
Sasha flinched. The warm, inviting look that she’d seen earlier in his eyes was definitely gone. If it was possible to look through someone, that’s exactly what Mitchell just did. Fine, she thought. Although it may have been April’s agenda for her to find a man—even temporarily—it wasn’t hers. Her goal was to win this competition. Period. She settled back in her seat and concentrated on her book. At least she tried to.
Finally the flight was called and boarding began. To Sasha’s dismay, Mitchell was seated in the row across the aisle from her, both of them with aisle seats.
“Need some help with that?” came the voice from behind her as she struggled to get her carry-on into the overhead rack.
She schooled her expression and turned around. Her heart fluttered in her chest. He was so close that she could see the light flecks of brown in his eyes. “Y-yes. Please.”
He took her heavy bag and lifted it like a loaf of bread, pushing it securely into place.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” he said without inflection. He took his seat and fastened his seatbelt, reached into the pocket in front of him and pulled out one of the in-flight magazines.
Sasha followed suit and settled into her seat. The words of her novel danced a jig on the page. She wanted to say something, apologize for acting like a deer in the headlights, but the words wouldn’t come.
The stewardess made the routine announcements in preparation for takeoff, and moments later they were in the air. Mitchell put on his headphones, adjusted his seat and closed his eyes. Whatever Sasha may have figured out to say by way of an apology was moot now.
Throughout the three-hour flight Sasha stole sidelong glances at Mitchell. For the most part he had completely tuned her out and the world around him, except for when the flight attendant came through the cabin with refreshments. He took off his headphones and for an instant actually looked at Sasha. She offered a small smile, which he didn’t acknowledge. His cold-water-in-the-face dismissal was an unwelcome jolt of reality. It was clear that whatever interest he might have had no longer existed. The flight became unbearably long.
When they disembarked in Puerto Rico to change planes and claim their luggage, Sasha and Mitchell took great pains to stay out of each other’s line of sight as they moved in and out of the crowd. To kill some time, Sasha took a quick stroll through the terminal to hunt for souvenirs. She found a cute T-shirt for April, glass salt-and-pepper shakers for her mother, a baseball cap for her dad and some beautiful hand towels for her sister.
With her stash in hand Sasha returned to the baggage claim area and looked for her bag on the conveyor belt. She felt Mitchell before she actually saw him. With a bit of reluctance she turned to her left, glanced, then looked away. She twisted the plastic bag in her hands and accidentally bumped him when she adjusted her oversize purse on her shoulder.
“Oh, sorry.” Her eyes danced everywhere but on his face.
“No problem.” He craned his neck over the row of passengers in front of him. “Our bags are probably in the corner over there.” He lifted his chin in the direction of a holding area for luggage. “One of the ground crew said the baggage handlers take the bags off and stash them on the side to make room for the next flight. So if you don’t see yours now, it’s probably over there.”
She frowned for an instant at the odd practice. But this wasn’t Georgia, she concluded. “Hmm, thanks for the tip. Guess I’d better take a look.” She started to move away and felt his eyes behind her. Her heart thudded and her body tingled even as she firmly instructed her hips to sway like the willows of Savannah.
Mitchell nearly collided with another passenger as he became mesmerized by the pendulum swing in front of him. He was still smarting from their last conversation, but for the life of him he couldn’t seem to shake Sasha Carrington from his thoughts. Throughout the first leg of the flight, he’d tried to concentrate on the motivational lectures he’d uploaded to his iPod and failed miserably. And, because his ego was bruised, he’d rebuffed her smile—an obvious peace offering—in favor of indifference, a persona that was far from who he really was. But since his breakup with Regina, he wasn’t the same man. He knew it. He felt it in the pit of his stomach. His confidence had been shaken. Although they’d parted ways months ago, the wounds were still felt fresh and his trust in women and relationships would take a long time to heal, if ever. With that bit of reality, he pushed thoughts of Regina, Sasha and women in general to the far corners of his mind.
When they landed at V. C. Bird International Airport in Antigua, Sasha was immediately swept up in a whirlwind of sights, lilting sounds and alluring scents. She, along with the other passengers, were guided through customs and into the waiting area to once again reclaim their luggage. She was amazed at the level of activity at what appeared to be the smallest airport she’d ever seen; customs, baggage claim and the eager drivers who waited outside the airport for would-be fares, were all mere steps from each other.
Amid the throng of moving bodies she’d periodically caught glimpses of Mitchell, but she made it a point not to let her gaze linger. This was probably the last time they would see each other anyway. Gathering her bags, she walked outside into the balmy air of the Caribbean, the heat tempered by the setting sun beyond the horizon. She took the travel information from her purse and looked over the information that had been provided in her letter of agreement. She was staying at the Jolly Beach Resort, and would be a guest there for the duration of her three-week stay, with the actual competition taking place offsite. She tucked the letter back in her purse and followed the crowd toward the waiting vehicles.
Her pulse quickened. Two people ahead of her was Mitchell. The woman who stood between them suddenly began waving at someone who Sasha couldn’t see, before darting off into the waiting arms of a man who wrapped her in a tight embrace before kissing her like a man drunk on desire and deprivation.
Sasha lowered her gaze, suddenly feeling like a voyeur as the intimate scene unfolded. The line inched forward and Sasha made a point of keeping an appropriate distance between her and Mitchell. The last thing she wanted to do was bump into him from behind.
A white van pulled up in front of them. Sasha breathed a sigh of relief. He’d get into the van and be on his way. The driver hopped out, dragged a limp handkerchief across his sweaty forehead and shouted, “Jolly Beach!”
Sasha and Mitchell moved in unison toward the waiting ride, bumping hips and luggage in the process. Mitchell looked over his shoulder. Sasha stopped in her tracks.
“Jolly Beach?” he asked. She nodded her response and was jostled by the couple behind her.
“Are you two getting in?” the man asked, his fat brown face glistening in the waning light.
“Room for all,” the driver called out. He snatched up Mitchell’s bag and loaded it into the back and did the same for Sasha before grabbing the couple’s luggage.
The older couple, spry for their age, hurried right past Sasha and Mitchell and secured the seats in the back. Mitchell stepped aside to let Sasha on, helping her up with a firm hand on her arm. A shiver ran up the line of her back and she almost tripped over her own feet. Real smooth, she thought, thankful for the dark interior of the van. She scooted across the worn upholstered seat and pinned herself against the window, praying for the driver to hurry and turn on the air conditioning.
Mitchell stooped low to get in and, after assessing the seating arrangements, took the only available seat, the one next to Sasha. He adjusted his solid body, inadvertently bumping his hip against hers. “Sorry,” he murmured then folded his arms across the tight expanse of his chest and stared ahead.
Sasha’s heart thumped. Sweat trickled down the valley of her breasts as she tried to gather herself into an invisible knot.
The driver hopped in on the right-hand side of the van, put it in gear and took off into the night. The van banged and bumped along the frighteningly narrow roads at death-defying speeds. Sasha’s heart hammered along with the banging and rattling, and she was sure that they were going to hurtle into a ditch, never to be seen again. She held on to the armrest for dear life. The one perk to the speed was that it stirred up gusts of air which cooled her body.
The only time the driver slowed was to allow two goats to cross the road. She could barely make out the landscape, but what she did see was not what was advertised in the brochures. Clapboard houses leaning left and right, stray dogs and cats, cows, sheep, and a ragtag complement of residents sitting on rickety steps or strolling along dirt roads.
The tug and pitch of the ride put Sasha and Mitchell in constant bodily contact, sending shock waves rippling up and down her thigh even as she pretended not to notice him or the way his leg felt against hers.
The van suddenly swerved around a double-parked car and Sasha tipped over into Mitchell’s lap. For a moment neither one moved or breathed. Alarm lit her eyes and the heat of embarrassment burned her cheeks when she looked up at him staring down at her. And then he smiled and it was sunlight rising over the horizon. She froze at the awesomeness of it.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he teased, his warm voice taking the sting out of her awkward predicament. The van bumped again and she struggled to sit up. “I am so sorry,” she said, looking every place but at him.
“I’d rather have you fall in my lap than that one back there,” he said in a pseudo whisper with a flick of his head in the direction of the couple behind them.
Sasha giggled.
They were both silent for a moment until Mitchell said, “Hey, why don’t we start over? Mitchell Davenport.” He extended his hand.
Sasha hesitated but a second before placing her hand in his. “Sasha Carrington.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mitchell.”
“Since it looks like we’ll be staying at the same resort, why don’t you call me Mitch? All my friends do.”
“Mitch…”
His dark eyes caught flecks of light as they glided over her. She drew in a breath and held it.
The van swerved again. This time Mitchell caught her. They laughed at the absurdity of what was to be their ordeal until they arrived at their destination.
“Do they all drive this way?” she asked, brushing the loose strands of her windswept hair away from her face.
Mitchell chuckled. “Pretty much. You get used to it after a while.”
“I’m still freaked out about them driving on the wrong side of the road.”
“That does take a bit of getting used to,” he agreed. He peered out the window. “It shouldn’t be much longer.”
Sasha dared to look out the window and noticed that the landscape had decidedly changed. Gone were the ramshackle homes and worn-and weary-looking residents. In their place were rolling green hills, towering palm trees and beautiful mansions tucked into the magnificent mountainsides overlooking sprawling white beaches.
The van turned into a long, winding road, braced on either side by trees and lush greenery surrounded by white gravel and stones. The vehicle slowed as it approached a gate. A guard in a beige uniform stepped out of the small enclosure at the entrance to the gate and approached the driver. He peered inside and asked to see their reservations. Each passenger handed over their documents, which were promptly returned, and the gate slowly swung open.
“They’re pretty serious about their security,” Sasha said under her breath, tucking her documents back in her purse.
“Jolly Beach is a private resort. There are no walk-ins. If you don’t have a confirmed reservation you can’t get into the facility,” Mitchell explained.
They drove down a path that led to the welcome area of the resort, which was outside, much to Sasha’s surprise. The reception desk was couched beneath an archway with seating all around. The area opened out onto paths leading to shops, the bar and the beach.
The driver began unloading bags and Mitchell took out his wallet to give him a tip. Sasha did the same, but Mitchell covered her hand with his. “Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly.
Sasha couldn’t decide whether to reject his courteous gesture or if he saw her as a helpless tourist. When they were out of eyeshot of the others she would repay him. She didn’t want him getting the idea that now “she owed him.”
They walked up to the reception desk and checked in. They were both given wrist bands that would allow them free meals and use of all the facilities while they were at the resort during the next two weeks.
“Here are your keys,” the desk clerk said in a lilting island patois with a hint of a British accent. She gave an actual key to Sasha and Mitchell then handed them a brochure of the resort’s amenities and a map and directions for the sprawling resort. “Your rooms are on Mango Lane. Make a left at the exit sign and they are across the short walkway.” She smiled brightly, not offering an escort.
“Thanks,” Mitchell said then turned to Sasha. “Ready?”
“Sure.” Pulling her bag behind her, she followed Mitchell through the darkness, the only illumination coming from the moonlight on the graveled path.
They crossed a short bridge that spanned a pond and emerged on the other side into a tropical paradise. Palms and brilliantly colored flora greeted them every step of the way, filling the air with a heady aroma. Mitchell looked at the signposts stuck in the gravel. He glanced over his shoulder at Sasha. “It’s right up ahead.”
They came upon a row of white connected cottages and went up a short flight of stone steps that opened onto another row of connecting rooms.
“I’m in 207,” Mitchell said.
Sasha looked at her key tag and was surprised to discover that she was right next door in 206. She swallowed. “206.”
“Neighbors.” He led the way down the corridor and stopped in front of her door first. “Here you are.”
“Here I am,” she said inanely.
“Need any help?”
“No, I’m fine. Thanks. You’ve been very helpful.”
He nodded, but didn’t move. “Are you going in?”
“Oh,” she said, flustered. She stuck the key in the lock, opened the door and flipped on the light.
“Mind if I take a look around? Make sure everything is cool, okay?”
Sasha stepped aside. “Sure.”
“Can’t be too careful,” he said, stepping inside. He walked in, opened the closets, looked in the bathroom and went to the terrace, checking the locks. He turned to her. “Be sure to lock this whenever you leave your room.” He drew in a breath and slowly exhaled. “Well…everything looks fine. Uh, guess I need to get out of here so that you can get settled.” He moved toward the open door.
“Are you always this…helpful?” Sasha asked with a soft smile, her hand on the frame of the door.
“As the oldest with two younger sisters, my father always insisted that I look out for my mother and my sisters and treat women the way I would my own family.” His gaze settled on her for an instant too long. He looked away. “Good night. Rest well.”
“You, too. And thanks again.”
He nodded and walked out. Slowly she closed and locked the door behind him, and suddenly the brightly colored room seemed incredibly dull without him.
She shook her head to dispel thoughts and images of Mitchell Davenport. What she needed to focus on was unpacking her bags, taking a long, hot shower and settling beneath the covers of the queen-sized bed that was calling out to her.
After unpacking, she closed the drapes on the terrace windows and stripped before heading into the bathroom. The moment she walked in she heard the rush of water coming from the opposite side of the shared wall. Mitchell’s room. Her mind flooded with images of his tall, lean, muscular brown body glistening beneath the pulsating flow of the rushing water. The bud between her thighs jerked to attention and began to pulse. A soft moan escaped her lips.
It had been months since she’d had sex, and even longer that her needs had actually been fulfilled. No wonder she got turned on by the first decent-looking,-smelling,-talking man she met.
Get it together, girl, she chided herself, turning on the water and wondering if Mitchell would imagine her the same way she’d just imagined him.
She stepped under the steamy spray and using her shower gel, generously lathered her body. Her nipples grew hard and the beat of the water between her legs only intensified the long drought that she’d endured. She let the water push the scented soap off her body as she caressed the heaviness of her breasts wishing that there were hands other than her own giving her pleasure. Her fingers dipped lower, answering the demanding call.
She closed her eyes and Mitchell stood in front of her, holding her close, hard and thick between her trembling thighs, stroking her, nibbling her wet skin, pushing her closer to the edge of ecstasy.
Her body shook from the balls of her feet, charging like an electric current up her thighs, exploding in her center, the intensity weakening her knees. She shook and moaned as release wound its way through her.
The pounding of her heart echoed above the sound of the water. Her eyes blinked open. She was alone—momentarily satisfied.
Chapter 3
Mitchell rose before the sun. He wished he could say that he’d actually slept. But he didn’t. More than once he’d awakened during the night with a hard-on that could cut glass, and he owed his discomfort to Sasha Carrington. Throughout the night he’d envisioned her lush body naked in his bed, on the beach, in the ocean and him doing things to her and her to him that are only talked about on a 900 call. Her soft scent haunted him like an apparition. He’d found himself reaching for her in the throes of tossing and turning in his bed, only to discover that he’d grabbed the downy-soft pillow.
Bleary-eyed, he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower full-blast. Maybe an early-morning jog on the beach would shake off the effects of Sasha he hoped as he stepped under the prickling pellets of icy-cold water.
Donning a sleeveless T-shirt and his jogging shorts, he laced up his sneakers, grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom, draped it around his neck and left for the beach. Walking through the reception area he passed the bar and closed shops and inhaled the aromas of steamed fish, ham, bacon and spices as the kitchen staff prepared to open the breakfast buffet at six.
When he reached the beach, a hint of orange glowed just above the horizon. He had about a half hour before the sun fully rose, and the heat with it. He took off at a slow jog, his only company the seagulls and the ocean that rolled toward the shore.
This was the best time of day, he thought, picking up his pace, those precious moments just before dawn, when stillness and the perfection of nature were at their most beautiful. Nothing was more awesome than watching the magnificence of the sun emerge above the horizon. It was a humbling sight that made you realize how small man really was.
He took the edge of the towel that hung around his neck and wiped his damp face. He’d started jogging about two years ago and found that it was the best way to relieve stress. When things had started falling apart financially and romantically, jogging was the only thing that kept him from walking out into rush-hour traffic and calling it a day. After a good run, things didn’t seem quite as dismal.
He reached the part of the beach that led to a bluff of rocks where many of the tour boats docked. He slowed and climbed the rocks until he reached the top then sat down to watch the sun rise. A pathway of orange light spread out over the water, wider and wider as the sun made its ascent, pushing the darkness slowly aside.
Mitchell leaned forward and squinted against the light. He really didn’t get enough sleep. Now he was seeing things. But what he was seeing was getting closer instead of vanishing like the hallucination he thought it was. His pulse kicked up a notch as the bikini-clad beauty emerged from the water like a water goddess—warm brown, wet, with curves that could send a man driving right off the edge. She didn’t see him, and he wanted it that way so that he could enjoy, for as long as possible, the sweet eye candy that made his mouth water.
It was then that he noticed the blue-and-yellow striped towel stretched out on the beach near the shore. She strolled toward it, tossing her wet hair over her shoulder, her strong thighs rippling as she walked.
Whatever he’d imagined that Sasha would look like naked paled in comparison to what was right in front of him. His jaw clenched when she bent down to retrieve her towel. Straightening, she ran the towel across her wet hair and down her arms as she took in the scenery around her, the beauty of the Caribbean being awakened…and then her gaze fell on him. He saw her quick intake of breath, the sudden rise of her breasts. He stood up and began to climb down. He crossed the sand to where she stood, unmoving.
“Morning. I see you’re an early riser, too.”
Suddenly self-conscious, she wrapped the towel around her. “I didn’t think anyone was out here, so I went for a swim, a habit I picked up when I…” She started to say when she began her campaign to get her weight and health under control, but didn’t. Instead she said, “When I need to unwind.”
“Great bod—exercise,” he stuttered, wanting to kick himself for the near blunder. “I prefer to jog. I’ve never been a great swimmer.”
Now what? she thought, her mind going completely blank, which led to a pregnant pause. “Hmm, how did you sleep?”
“Great,” he lied. “You?”
“Like a baby.” She smiled. Like a baby that wakes up every two hours. “I’m going to head back. I can smell breakfast from here and I’m starving.”
“I was thinking the same thing. I’ll walk back with you.” They walked for a while in silence. “Listen, if you don’t have plans for today, my offer to give you a tour still stands.”
She turned her head to look at him, making sure he wasn’t just making conversation. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.”
Her throat went suddenly dry. He still wanted to see her, spend time with her. She wasn’t going to screw it up this time. “I’d love to.”
His eyes lit up and crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “Great. Let’s share breakfast and then we can head out. They have some great sights in St. John’s. I think you’ll like it.”
She bobbed her head. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
They parted ways in front of their adjoining doorways and promised to be ready in a half hour.
The instant Sasha closed her door she darted to her purse, pulled out her cell phone and prayed that her international service had kicked it. It was going to cost her a small fortune on her next cell phone bill, but it would be worth it.
She punched in April’s number, closed her eyes, crossed her fingers and waited as the phone rang and rang. Finally, April’s groggy voice came on the line.
“Hello.” She sounded as if she’d swallowed sand.
“Wake up! It’s me.”
“Me who?” April teased, her voice still thick as she rubbed sleep from her eyes and turned her back to her sleeping lover.
“You know good and damned well who this is,” Sasha snapped back. “And tell him to beat it, we need to talk.”
“And what makes you think I’m not alone?” she asked in a whisper, sitting up then tiptoeing out into the living room.
“Because if I know you like I know you, right about now you’re slipping out of your room so he won’t overhear you squealing and hollering when I tell you what I have to tell you.”
“Damn, I hate it when you’re right.” April giggled. “So tell, tell,” she urged with the excitement of a child. “Who is he and is he cute?”
“Chile…I don’t even know where to begin.”
April plopped down on the couch and curled her legs beneath her. “At the beginning, of course. And don’t you dare leave anything out.”
As Sasha relayed every detail of her trip she hunted through her closet for the perfect breakfast outfit. When she told April how she’d almost blown it at the airport, April lit into her like a flash fire.
“What! How many times do I have to tell you to stop being so stunned when a good-looking man takes an interest in you? You are worth every second of the time they spend with you and then some. Now go ’head and finish your story,” she huffed.
Sasha shook her head and rolled her eyes at the sisterly rebuke then continued, bringing April right up to date.
“Wow,” April said, dragging the word out. “All that, huh? He sounds fantastic, and it’s clear even to Stevie Wonder that he’s totally interested in you. And you said he’s right next door?”
“Yep.”
“Now that’s what I call convenient!”
They cracked up laughing.
“So I say, enjoy the moment, girl. You know why you’re down there, to snatch the prize of a lifetime, and if you hook something extra along the way…why not enjoy that, too? You’re not there looking for a Mr. Forever, just a Mr. Right Now.”
Sasha tossed the idea around. What April was saying had merit. She was there on a mission, and if she managed to get something extra out of the deal with a very desirable man, then why not?
“So, what are you wearing?” April asked, breaking into Sasha’s train of thought.
Sasha had laid out a tangerine-colored sundress in a light gauzy material that delicately swept her ankles. She described her outfit.
“Oh yes, that color looked great on you in the store. How did your micro braids hold up in the water?”
“Great. I wish I had done this ages ago. That stylist is so good that it looks like a head full of soft, bouncy curls. And I can get it wet, pull it up, down and it springs right back. I love it.”
“I’ll be sure to tell Kim you said so. Uh-oh, Calvin is calling me. Gotta run. You just have a good time, you hear me? And keep me posted!”
“I will,” Sasha said with a grin before hanging up. She tossed the cell phone in her purse, thought about calling her parents but decided to wait until after breakfast. At this time of the morning, her mother would swear that something was wrong and no amount of denying would convince her that some harm hadn’t come to her child. She checked her watch. Her eyes widened. She’d spent nearly twenty of her thirty minutes running her mouth with April. Now she had to hurry. At least she had “ready, set, go” hair. That was one thing she needn’t worry about.
She darted into the bathroom and took a lightning-fast shower, toweled off and lathered her skin with shea-butter lotion and then a sunscreen before spritzing her bare arms and ankles with insect repellent. That bit of business aside, she quickly brushed her lashes with mascara, put gold hoops in her ears, grabbed a tangerine scrunchie and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. The style elongated her face and accented her cheekbones and wide brown eyes. She examined her reflection, turning left then right, pleased with what she saw. A swipe of deodorant and she was ready to slip into her dress with about three minutes to spare. Just as she was stepping into her white flats, there was a knock on her door. She drew in a breath. It was a pure Lady Sings the Blues moment, when Billie Holiday, played by Diana Ross, sees Louis McKay, played by Billie Dee Williams, for the first time. If she’d had a wall behind her, she would have slid down it just like Billie Holiday did. Instead, she gripped the doorknob.
“Hi,” she managed to say.
Mitchell, with the sun behind him, looked like a bronze Adonis. His milky-white T-shirt stretched across his broad chest was tucked into a pair of tan linen shorts that reached his knees. The hard muscles in his exposed arms flexed and released as he removed the dark shades from his sweet chocolate-brown eyes and looked at her with a sheepish grin.
“Sorry, I’m starving,” he confessed. “Didn’t want to go over there without you and let you think I’d left all my manners in Georgia when you found me hunched over a plate.”
Sasha tossed her head back and laughed full-out, releasing the sexual tension that bounced back and forth between them. “You know what? That’s just what I would have thought—This man’s mama didn’t raise him right,” she said laying on the Southern accent. She smiled. “Let me get my bag and I’ll be right with you.” She spun around, feeling like she was going out on a first date…and she sort of was doing just that. Her heart thumped.
Mitchell watched her easy grace as she retreated inside the room to retrieve her bag. Why did he have such a thing for this woman whom he barely knew? After he’d left her a half hour earlier he couldn’t get ready fast enough so that he could see her again. What he needed to do, and quickly, was think with the head on the top of his neck and get back to the game plan. No distractions. He drew in a breath and straightened as she approached, but when she looked up and smiled at him, he forgot all about the plan.
Chapter 4
On the short stroll across the walkway and through the outdoor reception area, Mitchell and Sasha took in the scenery. The resort was quite magnificent, with stone and stucco structures, lush greenery and brilliant sunshine and white sandy beaches as far as the eye could see.
The resort was slowly coming alive as guests clad in bright colors bursting with floral designs began to emerge. The slow-moving and relaxed atmosphere seemed to have put everyone in a festive mood.
By the time they arrived at the semi-enclosed dining area they were surprised to find many of the seats already filled.
“Guess a lot of folks are hungry early in the morning,” Mitchell said in a whisper close to Sasha’s ear, placing his hand at the small of her back to guide her to an empty table.
His touch felt like hot coals, and even after he’d taken his hand away and helped her into her seat, Sasha could still feel the heat where his hand had been. She inhaled deeply to steady the sudden racing of her heart. How in the world was she going to pretend to be this worldly woman when a simple look, smile or touch from Mitchell made her insides melt?
Mitchell took his seat opposite Sasha just as a waitress approached. She poured water into their glasses. “The buffet is right around the corner here,” she began, her voice sounding like music. “And hot food is at the end. Can I get you juice or coffee?” She looked from Sasha to Mitchell.
“Orange juice for me,” Sasha said.
“I’ll have the same, and a cup of coffee. Please.”
The waitress bobbed her head and walked away.
Mitchell focused on Sasha. “Ready?”
“Yep.”
They got up and headed toward the buffet and the unbelievable array of food. It ran the gamut from fresh tropical fruit to cold cereals, French toast, bacon and sausage to made-to-order omelets. And, of course, steamy, seasoned fish.
They strolled along the row of buffet tables, loading food onto their plates and giggling as they added more.
“I think I’m going to need another plate,” Mitchell said by the time they reached the omelet station. They were surprised that they both liked the same omelet ingredients—mushrooms, cheddar cheese, green and red peppers and spinach.
Balancing two plates each, they returned to their table to find that the juice and coffee had arrived.
“This is a lot of food,” Sasha said, rethinking her decision to get so much food. She’d been so good about how much she ate over the past few months, and she didn’t want to fall back into bad habits. She’d managed to stay away from meat and chosen fish instead, with plenty of fruit. Satisfied that she’d stuck with her healthy choices, albeit a lot of them, she lowered her head and quietly said grace. She was pleased when she looked up and saw that Mitchell was doing the same thing.
“So…” he began as he cut into his omelet “…what do you do back in Savannah?”
“By day, I’m a reservationist at the Summit Hotel. On the nights that I’m not in school, I help out at the family restaurant-slash-catering business.”
His brows rose in appreciation as he slowly chewed his food. “You’re a busy lady.”
She chuckled. “That I am.”
“What are you studying in school?”
She told him about the classes she was taking and her goal to one day run her own small resort. “I’m planning to be finished with my degree and certification in a few months. It’s been a long haul.”
“You’re definitely determined and focused. Sounds like you really needed this vacation.”
She sighed deeply. “It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to get away.” She looked around at her beautiful surroundings. “This is certainly what the doctor ordered.”
“Then I’m more determined than ever to make sure you have the time of your life. It’ll hold you over until your next big getaway.”
She dared to look into his eyes and her breath caught in her chest. The look in his eyes bored down into her center and stroked her, like a feather brushing across the skin, tantalizing and teasing, making her shiver in response.
He squinted. “Cold?”
She laughed nervously. “No.” She looked away and focused on her food. “What about you? What do you do in your other life besides squire novice tourists around Caribbean islands?”
He lifted his coffee cup to his lips and took a long sip, stalling for time. The minute he told her what a failure his life had turned into, she would do exactly what Regina had done, slam the door in his face. No woman wanted a man who was down on his luck, especially someone you were trying to impress.
“I’m your average businessman, looking for opportunities in these tough times. I thought I’d see what the investment possibilities were here,” he offered casually, just short of the truth.
Sasha chewed slowly, taking him in. “Did you get hit by the economy back home? So many people have been hurt, friends of mine, others that I know. I’m hoping things turn around soon. No one deserves what has happened to them through no fault of their own.” She put down her fork. “I know what it’s like to struggle and work for something and then have it all taken away from you.” She thought about her brother-in-law, Gary, who’d been out of work for nearly a year. It was taking a major toll on the marriage and especially on her sister, Tristan. He was a jerk before he’d lost his job, but being unemployed only made him worse.
“Do you?” He knew he sounded harsher than he intended, but his financial woes were a sore spot with him.
Sasha flinched. “Oh…sorry.”
He blew out a breath. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I know some folks that have been hit really hard, too. Friends.”
Sasha slowly nodded. “I totally understand.”
The waitress stopped by and refilled their beverages. “It’s rough all around. We have to support each other. As my grandmother always said, ‘There but for the grace of God go I.’”
Mitchell studied her for a moment, wanting to believe that her grandmother’s words of wisdom remained fixed in her soul. But what difference did it make? he reasoned. This was all just temporary. They were simply two people sharing some time together on vacation and nothing more. It didn’t matter one way or the other what she thought.
“When was the last time you were here?” Sasha asked as she sipped her juice.
“Hmmm, about three years ago.” He’d come with Regina, when things were good. They’d been so happy. He glanced away for a moment then focused on Sasha. “You mentioned that your parents had a restaurant. What kind?”
“Soul food. Is there any other kind in the South?” she joked. She told him the story of her mother starting off in the kitchen of their home before taking the leap and opening up Carrington’s. “It’s actually more catering than sit-down dining. We have walk-ins that get takeout food. But the majority of our business is catering events. And there’s always something going on in Savannah.” She chuckled.
“It must run in the blood if it’s what you see yourself doing, too.”
“I have my own version.” Her eyes lit up and she leaned closer, resting her arms on the table. “What I want is a small resort, with a full-range of spa facilities for people who want to get their minds and bodies under control. It would offer massages, relaxation techniques, a healthy menu, all in a beautiful environment,” she ended wistfully. “That’s why I’ve been working so hard for the past couple of years. I know I can do this. And now that…”
“That what?”
“Uh, now that I’m almost finished school and have my credit in order I can move toward my dream. If the financial market will cooperate,” she added.
“A grim reality for all of us. Even if you have some funding, the experience and the will, banks are still scared to lend.”
She nodded in agreement. “It makes it harder, but not impossible,” she said with conviction. She looked deep into his eyes. “When you sincerely believe in something or someone, you can’t let anything shake that belief. All any of us need is that vote of confidence, that person that can say ‘I got your back.’” She angled her head to the side. “Know what I mean?”
“Yeah…I think I do.” Watching her as she finished her meal, he began to see her in a new and appealing light. She wasn’t just pretty, with a knockout body, she was thoughtful, ambitious, and she had a sense of loyalty and a level of respect for others. A far cry from Regina, who only thought of herself, her needs and how quickly they could be met.
Sasha pushed her plate aside, sighed and wiped her mouth. “I can’t eat another bite. That was delicious. Now I really do need a swim to work off all this food.”
Mitchell had a flashback of her emerging out of the ocean in that bikini and inadvertently knocked over the balance of his water.
“Oh!” Sasha grabbed a napkin and mopped up the small spill. “Did it get on you?”
“No. I’m good.” He righted the glass. “Getting clumsy in my old age.”
“I think I have you beat on the clumsy thing. I knock something over or bang my knee at least once per week,” she said laughing.
“I find that hard to believe.”
She grinned. “Believe it, and stand clear when I’m around anything liquid or any immoveable objects.”
Mitchell chuckled as he pushed back from his seat then came around to help her up. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He was so close he felt the warmth of her body radiate from her beautiful bare shoulders. The sudden, hard rise in his shorts took him by surprise, and he quickly stepped back before Sasha did in case she bumped into his immovable object. He stuck his hands in his pockets, thankful that his shorts were not form-fitting, and told himself to think about ice cubes. He walked behind her as she led them out.
“I want to make a quick stop in the gift shop,” Sasha said, slowing her steps and turning behind her to look at Mitchell. “I packed everything I could think of besides sunglasses.” She pointed to his pair hooked onto the collar of his T-shirt. “Be right back.” She pushed through the door, setting off the tinkling of wind chimes.
Mitchell drew in a long, deep breath, turning his back to the store. What in the world was wrong with him? She hadn’t given him any indication that she was even remotely interested in him sexually, and yet every time he was within eyesight of her he got a major hard-on. If it was just about sex, he’d simply make his move, knock it out and be on his way. But as much as he tried to tell himself that this was no more than an island fling, he actually liked her.
It wasn’t just her banging body that turned him on. It was everything—her smile, the way she walked, her eyes, how she was thoughtful, funny, smart and determined. All that stacked up to what could be a problem. And that harsh reality was messing with his head.
Sasha walked through the aisles, needing a few minutes to get herself together. She didn’t need sunglasses any more than she needed a tan. But she needed to get some quick space between her and Mitchell so that she could think. As she walked she felt the dampness in her panties that had nothing to do with the island heat. Her clit was hard and throbbing, aching to be touched. When he’d stood behind her to help her out of her seat and she’d inhaled his scent, felt his hands on her arms and his body inches from hers, desire had pooled between her thighs.
If she was a different kind of woman she would ask him to come to her room, strip him naked and jump his bones. And she’d ride him until he put out the fire that continued to rage within her.
“Oh Lawd,” she mumbled, fanning herself.
“Can I help you?”
Sasha spun around, startled by the voice suddenly behind her. “Oh…um, I was looking for…lip gloss.”
“Right up front at the counter.”
“Thank you.” She followed the store clerk to the register, paid for her purchase and stepped back outside.
Mitchell had his back to her but turned at the sound of the chimes. Their gazes connected and seemed to convey the same thing: I want you.
“Find what you were looking for?” he asked.
“Yes, I mean no.” She sputtered a laugh. “Once I got in there I remembered that I’d packed my sunglasses in my carry-on.” She lifted the tube of lip gloss. “Got this instead. So, um, I’m going to dart over to my room and grab my glasses then I’ll be ready to go.”
“Sure. I’ll meet you in front of reservations in the lounge area.”
“Great. Be right back.” She hurried off, leaving him standing in her wake, and went directly to her room.
Once inside she locked the door, went to the bathroom and ran cold water on a washcloth. She stripped out of her panties, dropping them to the floor, and pressed the cool compress between her thighs. Her eyes fluttered closed as she exhaled a sigh of relief. The cool water slowly vanquished the fever.
Sasha opened her eyes and stared at her flushed expression in the mirror. Maybe the thing to do was stay as far away from Mitchell as possible until this trip was over. Her nipples tingled. “Don’t think so.”
She went into the next room and took a fresh pair of panties from the drawer, slipped them on, grabbed her sunglasses and headed back out. On the walk over to the reception area, she resigned herself to the inevitable. She was going to sleep with Mitchell Davenport. End of story. And once she’d ended her mental and physical tug of war she suddenly felt so much better.
While Sasha slipped away to her room, Mitchell took the time to try to put this crazy thing that was going on with him in perspective. He was totally taken with her, but he didn’t have a pot to piss in. He’d come to Antigua for one reason only and it wasn’t Sasha Carrington, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about her. She didn’t seem interested in him, but he wanted her to the point of physically aching for her every time she was near him. He wouldn’t be distracted from his goal, no matter what, but he was going to sleep with her. End of story. How’s that for perspective?
Chapter 5
The skyline of St. John’s, the capital of Antigua, was dominated by the white baroque towers of St. John’s Cathedral. Bright, candy-colored architecture dotted the narrow roads like sprinkles on an ice cream cone, giving the entire atmosphere a feeling of carefree frivolity.
The streets teemed with people, both locals and tourists, meandering in and out of shops and eateries.
Sasha and Mitchell merged with the crowds taking in the sights, sounds and smells, and when they were repeatedly cut off by passersby, Mitchell took her hand.
“Don’t want to lose you,” he said, and her heart nearly stopped.
His hand tightened around hers and everything seemed to disappear except for the two of them. They bumped hips and thighs as they walked and laughed, stopping in the open-air market to sample island fruit before moving on toward the Museum of Antigua and Barbuda.
Mitchell opened the door to the museum, which was housed in the circa-1750 Colonial Courthouse, and they were immediately enveloped in the cool oasis of the space.
“It’s not the High Museum,” Mitchell said, referring to the museum in Atlanta, “but it paints a great picture of the island and its history.”
The museum held an array of fascinating exhibits—from diagrams of the island’s formative volcano to displays of local cuisine, from cassava-preparation techniques to the amazing shells whose abundance made them a ready medium for artists. There was a replica of a sugar plantation along with the history of slavery on the island and emancipation as well as the actual bat used by Viv Richards, the national cricket hero.
“These are beautiful,” Sasha said, her voice almost reverent as she examined shells crafted into unique pieces of jewelry.
“Pretty amazing,” he said softly, watching her and thinking that the sparkling beauty of the shells paled in comparison to her.
They wandered around some more before going back out into the early-afternoon sun.
“That was great,” Sasha said, bobbing her head as she slid her sunglasses up on her nose. “Thanks.”
“It gives a pretty good history of the island. The replica of the sugar plantation was pretty humbling.”
“Yes,” she said in slow agreement. “It’s amazing how the Antiguans were able to establish, build and maintain the roots of their culture for generations.”
“It’s refreshing to meet a woman you can talk to about issues beyond ‘Where are we going for dinner?’” he said.
Sasha glanced at him. “So are you saying you just like me for my mind?”
The corner of his full mouth curved slightly upward and his voice lowered an octave. “I’d say I like you for your mind and everything that comes along with it.”
Warmth rushed through her and her stomach fluttered. Their gazes held for a moment, communicating things they weren’t quite ready to say but definitely felt.
He took her hand. “Come on, let’s grab some lunch. I know this great outdoor café a few blocks away.”
Sasha and Mitchell spent the rest of the afternoon talking about everything, from the books they loved, to movies, politics, religion and relationships.
She learned that Mitchell actually grew up on the south side of Chicago. His father worked for the post office and his mother was a nurse. They’d struggled, never had much, but he and his sisters had a good life. He grew up appreciating hard work and what it brought you. He wasn’t particularly religious, but he did believe in a higher power and that you reaped what you sowed.
“Church was always a major part of our life growing up,” Sasha offered. “I still remember the smell of the hot comb and pressing cream that my mother used every Saturday night to get me and my sister, Tristan, presentable for church,” she said, laughing at the memory. “And she’d always tie these big satin bows in our hair. If a strong wind came by we could take right off!”
Mitchell tossed his head back and laughed. “I remember, I remember. My sister used to holler every time my mother broke out that straightening comb. She wore those ribbons, too, and patent leather shoes that my father would shine with Vaseline.”
Sasha doubled over with laughter, and slapped her thigh. “Yes! Yes!”
They both hooted at the memories of the hysterical images.
“Whew,” Sasha said, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. “Those were the days.”
“Yes, they were.” He casually slipped his arm around her shoulder as they continued to walk.
Sasha held her breath for an instant then slowly relaxed under the comforting weight of his arm, fitting perfectly along the contours of his body.
“Have any plans for this evening?” Mitchell asked as they drew closer to the resort.
“Hmmm, no, not really. I need to make some calls, that’s about it.”
“How ’bout we take a boat ride? The mountainsides are pretty spectacular from the water.”
“Sure. I’d love to.”
“They serve dinner on deck, music…”
“Can’t wait.”
He swallowed over the sudden tightness in his throat. “Neither can I.” He walked her to her door. “Bring something for your shoulders. It can get a bit breezy on the water.”
She wanted to tell him that she’d prefer his arms, but instead she said, “Good idea. Thanks.”
“So I’ll knock on your door about seven. We’ll catch a ride from the drivers up front. The boat takes off at eight-thirty.”
She nodded. “I’ll be ready.” She stuck her key in the door and opened it before turning back to look up into his eyes. “Thanks for a great day,” she said breathlessly.
He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her right ear. “See you later.” He went into his room.
The instant she was behind closed doors she spun around in a circle of delight before flopping down faceup on the bed. She couldn’t stop smiling. Her insides were beaming. She rolled over, reached for her purse and took out her cell phone. A call to her family was long overdue and the last thing she wanted was to get a call from home at the wrong time. She dialed the restaurant, knowing that’s where she would find her mother. With any luck, her father and sister would be there too, and she could fulfill her obligations in one fell swoop.
The phone rang several times while Sasha replayed her day with Mitchell.
It took her mother shouting, “Hello,” into the phone to snap Sasha from her daydream. She sprang up on the bed. “Hey, Mom. How are you?”
“It’s about time you called. I was getting worried.”
“Everything is fine. The hotel is great, the weather is perfect and I’m finding my way around the island.”
Her mother huffed. “Still don’t see why you had to go so far.”
“Ma…please…” She paused a moment, refusing to let her mother’s negativity wear away her joy. “How’re Dad and Tristan?”
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».
Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/donna-hill/prize-of-a-lifetime/) на ЛитРес.
Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.