A holiday to remember

Alyson Talbot’s real estate ambitions have taken her far from her exotic Caribbean home. Now she’s coming back to plan a spectacular Christmas wedding for her sister—and win some lucrative new business deals. Samson Steel is an unexpected distraction in both areas. Enigmatic and self-assured, he has a knack for getting under her skin...and into her most sensual fantasies.

False accusations derailed Samson’s political plans, and he’s hoping an extended vacation will give him time to figure out his next move. First up? Getting close and personal with the aloof but sultry real estate agent guiding him around their island paradise. Alyson intrigues him—until he suspects her new clients of shady business dealings and starts to question her ethics...and his judgment. Now only the gifts of acceptance and trust can turn a sizzling yuletide fling into a new beginning...

“I don’t dance,” she said.

“Since when? I just saw you dancing at your parents’ house.”

Reluctantly, she swayed her hips under the sound of Beres Hammond’s gentle voice. Watching her caused things to stir in Samson. He pulled her into his chest and they continued to dance. No words. He wrapped his strong arms around her waist, held her close. Soon she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck.

“The last time we were at the beach, things didn’t go so well,” she reminded him.

“Well, I’m hoping that this time will be different.” He decided to go in for a kiss, and was glad that she didn’t resist.

His lips touched hers gently, and the kiss was much sweeter than he’d imagined. His tongue found its way into her peppermint-flavored mouth. Her French-manicured fingertips danced their way across his face, caressed it. He held on to her waist. The strength of his arms made her feel safe. Wanted. Sexy. All the things she hadn’t felt in a long time. Things she’d been too busy to feel.

Without a single word, he grabbed her hand and led the way back to the cabana.

Dear Reader,

You will appreciate Samson from the beginning. He’s exactly what Alyson needs—someone to put her in check! He knows that she’s all bark and no bite. With his tattooed arms and unshaven face, he’s hardly her type. She likes her men a little more refined. Not to mention, he thinks he’s God’s gift to the world. She doesn’t have time for that! She’s too busy building her empire. But Samson isn’t afraid to show her his worth.

If you remember Alyson from the first book in the Talbot series, you know that she’s a bit uptight. She’s the last one you’d expect to go trekking across the globe to Chicago (of all places) in the middle of winter, to get her man! But she’s proof that love is worth going to the ends of the earth for.

I hope you will enjoy Samson and Alyson’s story. And also the fantastical Christmas wedding of Jackson and Jasmine as they marry at the Grove. You’ll get to see the warmth of the Talbot family again, and also become acquainted with Samson’s spirited family. I hope you continue to love the Talbots. They are everybody’s family!

Visit my website at monica-richardson.com or email me at Monica@Monica-Richardson.com.

Happy reading!

Monica Richardson

A Yuletide Affair

Monica Richardson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MONICA RICHARDSON currently writes adult romances set in Florida and the Caribbean. Under the name Monica McKayhan, she wrote the Indigo Summer young adult series. Indigo Summer hit the Essence and Black Issues Book Review bestseller lists, and the series also received a film option. Monica’s YA books have garnered accolades and industry recognition, including several American Library Association (ALA) placements on the Quick Picks for Reluctant Young Adult Readers and the Popular Paperbacks for Young Adults annual lists.

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For my Granny, Rosa A. Heggie

(November 1927–2008)

She was special in so many ways, and the

strongest woman I knew. My life is rich because of her.

Acknowledgments

To my husband, the love of my life—

thank you for being my biggest encourager.

And for being my real-life hero.

To my family and friends—you are my support system.

To my readers that give me the energy to continue to write, I’m sure you will enjoy the Talbot family and get to know them well. I hope you will enjoy Alyson’s story just as much as Jasmine’s. Thank you for your continued support. Without you, our stories are just that, stories. But through you, those stories come to life and take flight.

To my family in the Bahamas—visiting with you and talking to you about my history has made the research and writing of this Talbot series a complete joy.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Acknowledgments

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 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Copyright

Chapter 1

Alyson Talbot hadn’t planned on spending so much time in the Eleuthera Islands, Bahamas. She loved her family and her childhood home, but it was no place she had intentions of ever living again. In fact, she’d made a perfect home in Miami by purchasing a beautiful condo that overlooked the Miami River. Florida was where she needed to be—it was where she was building her clientele. After leaving a booming real estate company, she’d recently decided to branch out on her own, make a name for herself. Alyson Talbot and Associates wasn’t quite where she wanted it to be, but the business was well on its way to making a statement in the industry. Just last year, she’d earned a decent salary, one that supported her comfortable lifestyle. But she was looking for more than just comfort, and her goal was to double those earnings in the coming year. She was certainly on a good track, and well on her way to accomplishing just that. She vowed to never move back to the islands nor help to run her family’s B and B on Harbour Island.

Each of her siblings had vowed the same thing—that they would not be moving back to the Bahamas. Her oldest brother, Edward, was too busy working his political career and had ties to the mayor’s office in Florida. Her brother Nate, who lived in Atlanta, was an artist and had no desire to run a B and B. And conversation around him moving back to the islands had always been a sore spot for him. Problems with a former girlfriend had limited his visits to their childhood home. Whitney was busy teaching small children at her Dallas elementary school and had claimed that she would return long-term, but hadn’t. Their youngest brother, Denny, had already begun his tour of duty in the Bahamian military. He was the family’s rebel, had opted out of attending college. Jasmine had been the only one to sacrifice and move back to the island. She had been instrumental in the Grove’s renovation. But now that the family business was up and running, she needed help. Which was why she had turned to her older sister, Alyson. However, for Alyson, moving home was definitely not in the cards.

What was in the cards was helping to plan her sister’s elaborate Christmas wedding. Without her contribution, Jasmine’s wedding might not be as elegant as it could be. After all, she had connections, and people owed her favors. Not to mention, the Talbots weren’t just an ordinary family anymore. They were more than just a two-parent family with six adult children scattered about the world. As owners of the Grove, the newest and fastest growing beachfront property on the island, the Talbots had quickly been placed in a league of their own. She knew that when the first member of the Talbot clan got married at the Grove, it had to be an event to remember. And it was up to her to make sure that happened—thus, causing her to spend way more time on the islands than she’d ever dreamed she would.

“Turn around and let me see the back,” she told Jasmine, who modeled her seventh ivory dress.

It was a Vera Wang, and her sister looked like a model in it. She truly hoped Jasmine liked this one, because she was quickly running out of patience. She’d tentatively scheduled a meeting with an important client—a meeting that had already been postponed twice. She was committed to the wedding, but also had business in Miami.

“It’s okay, but I don’t get that warm fuzzy feeling about it. Mother said that I would know which dress was the right one. She said it would speak to me.”

“It’s a Vera Wang. What else would you like for it to say, honey?” Alyson asked. “Not only that, but our mother got married at the justice of the peace some thirty-plus years ago. What does she know about picking the perfect wedding dress?”

“That’s just rude,” said Jasmine.

“It’s the truth, Jazzy!”

“Our mother may not have had the wedding of her dreams, but she definitely married the man of her dreams.”

“I can’t argue that.”

Their father, Paul John Talbot, was a man whom both women cherished. Any man that walked into their lives had large shoes to fill.

“I want the dress to feel special,” Jasmine insisted.

Her sister could wear almost any dress she wanted to, yet she made the task of finding a dress almost impossible. Jasmine had the perfect figure. Alyson wasn’t nearly as fit as her sister, who worked out on a daily basis. She had to work hard just to maintain her ample figure. And as much as her patience was running thin, she had to keep reminding herself that this was not her wedding. In fact, she had no intentions of ever getting married. Marriage was overrated, and she hadn’t had one single prospect anyway. She’d had her share of trysts and a few relationships that had lasted a month or two, but nothing serious. Her life was just fine the way it was, though.

“As much as I’d like to spend the day picking out bridal gowns, I think your husband-to-be is expecting us at the Grove pretty soon,” Alyson reminded her sister with a quick glance at her watch. “He wants your input on the Caribbean band that’s auditioning for the reception. I think we should head over there.”

“Okay, just let me get out of this dress.” Jasmine glanced at herself quickly in the mirror one more time and then grabbed hold of the silk train before stepping down from the platform.

“No love between you and that gown, huh?” Alyson asked again.

“Very little.” She grinned and then disappeared into the dressing room.

Dress shopping with her younger sister was like watching paint dry.

* * *

Although it was still early November and Thanksgiving was forthcoming, Christmas had been the focal point at the Grove with Jasmine’s impending wedding. The Clydesdale had already been decorated with gold, red and green lights streamed throughout. In the Grand Room, a huge, fifteen-foot Christmas tree stood tall in the corner of the room, garnished with garland, lights and unique ornaments. It was reminiscent of Alyson’s childhood home in Governor’s Harbour—a place where Christmases were an important part of her life. But more important than Christmas Day was the day after—Boxing Day. Boxing Day was when Junkanoo took place.

The festive street parade with music, dance and unique costumes was what dinner conversations were made of. Inspired by a different theme every year, it was the focal point of the Christmas holidays and the New Year, and it was the highlight of the year in the Bahamas. It took months to prepare for Junkanoo. There were costumes that needed to be made and feasts that needed to be prepared. When Alyson and her siblings were young, their father would take them to Nassau, where the largest Junkanoo parade took place. Although the Junkanoo parade in the Eleuthera was festive, nothing could compare to the one in Nassau. Now with the anticipation of a Christmas wedding, coupled with Junkanoo, the Talbot family were beside themselves with excitement.

* * *

The Caribbean band had set up their instruments in the center of the Grand Room and was playing an old Bob Marley tune. With locks that hung down to the center of his back, the band’s lead singer danced around the room. Jackson, Alyson’s brother-in-law-to-be, was so into the performance, he didn’t even see them walk in. When he spotted them, a wide grin covered his handsome golden face as he bobbed his head to the music. He raised a glass of cognac in the air and motioned for Alyson and Jasmine to join him.

“You’re just in time,” Jackson said. “They’re just getting started.”

“They sound good,” Jasmine said.

Samson, Jackson’s friend, walked up and the two men shook hands. Alyson inconspicuously observed Samson as he chatted with Jackson. Didn’t want him to notice that she was checking him out. She’d labeled him as the mystery man that had shown up on the island, with no real reason for being there. He was renting a room at their family’s B and B for an extended period of time, and he’d been introduced as Jackson’s buddy from college, but her knowledge of him was very limited. The lack of information intrigued her.

“Why don’t you play something?” Jackson asked Samson, and then told everyone in the room, “He’s an accomplished guitarist.”

“I’m an amateur at best,” Samson insisted.

“He’s being modest,” Jackson countered. “Get on up there and give us a little something.”

Reluctantly, Samson joined the band at the center of the room. The band’s guitarist handed over his instrument, and Samson began to play. Alyson tried desperately to peel her eyes from his sexy face, and she’d never intended to focus so intently on the way his lips curved when he was in his zone. She certainly didn’t mean to stare at his muscular arms, or the way the sleeveless shirt hugged his chest. With his tattooed arms and unshaven face, he was definitely not her type. She preferred her men refined and sophisticated. But she couldn’t help but be impressed by the way he played the guitar and how he meshed perfectly with the other members of the band.

Get yourself together, girl, her inner voice whispered. What in the hell is wrong with you?

She didn’t have time to watch this man play a guitar! He wasn’t even in the band—he was a wannabe. And what was he doing in the Bahamas, anyway? The nuptials weren’t taking place for weeks, and he wasn’t even an attendant in the wedding.

“I don’t need to see anymore. I think this is our band for the reception,” announced Jackson. He then turned to Jasmine. “What do you think, babe?”

“Bravo!” Jasmine clapped her hands as each member of the band took a bow. “I agree.”

At least she agreed on something, Alyson thought as she raised an eyebrow at her indecisive sister. “How about deciding on a wedding dress, boo?” She’d said it aloud before realizing the words had actually come out of her mouth.

“Don’t start, Alyson.” Jasmine pointed a finger at her sister.

“No luck finding a dress today?” Jackson asked Jasmine.

“She’s going to be wearing that tablecloth if she doesn’t choose a dress soon,” Alyson teased.

“I really don’t care what my bride-to-be is wearing on that day, just as long as she meets me at the altar and becomes my wife like she promised.” Jackson grabbed Jasmine from behind and gave her a tight squeeze.

The two moved to the sound of the Caribbean music. Although Alyson rolled her eyes, secretly they gave her hope that love actually was attainable. She was happy for her sister and wished her a lifetime of bliss with the man of her dreams. The two sisters had only recently hashed out their differences and gotten over old wounds, and Alyson was grateful that they were able to put the past behind them. And she was happy to be an integral part of her sister’s life and wedding plans.

“What’s the story on your friend over there?” Alyson asked the question that had plagued her since the day Mystery Man had shown up in the Bahamas.

“He’s my college buddy,” Jackson said.

“Old information. I gathered that days ago,” she told him. “I mean, what’s his story?”

Jackson placed an arm around Alyson’s shoulder. “What exactly would you like to know about him?”

She pulled away and exclaimed, “I’m not interested in him, if that’s what you’re insinuating! I’m just curious as to why he’s here. Normal people have careers and families that prevent them from relocating to a tropical island for an extended period of time.”

“He’s just here for a little while. Needed to get away.”

Get away from what? she thought as she gave Samson another quick glance.

“What happened in Chicago?” she asked.

“Maybe you should ask him yourself,” Jackson said as Samson finished the set and walked up.

Samson gave Alyson a dazzling grin and nearly pierced her with those seductive light brown eyes. He gave her a nod of hello.

“You’re far from a novice, boy. You’re a professional.” Jackson grinned and gave Samson a strong handshake. Then he turned to Alyson. “I’d like for you to meet my future sister-in-law, Alyson Talbot. Alyson, this is Samson. I don’t think I’ve had the chance to formally introduce you two.”

“Pleased to meet you, Samson.” She offered her hand.

He took it and gently kissed the back of it. “The pleasure is all mine.”

She quickly retrieved her hand from the man who’d instantly caused her to feel things—strange things—that she shouldn’t feel when meeting someone for the first time. Samson smiled, apparently completely aware of his effect on her. She rolled her eyes. He was trying too hard, and she wanted him to know that he didn’t stand a chance with her. Maybe if she were a twenty-two-year-old groupie, his charms would work. But she wasn’t twenty-two, nor was she one of those desperate women who threw themselves at the feet of charming men, and he needed to know that. She’d always been one to sift through the smoke screen and get to the heart of the matter.

“Talbot women certainly are beautiful,” said Samson.

She noticed the word Toni etched across his left biceps, and asked herself, Who has the names of their ex-or current girlfriends etched into their skin?

“Alyson is a real estate broker,” Jackson offered. “Her company is quickly becoming the go-to for real estate on the island and abroad. You mentioned taking a look at some beach homes while you’re here. Maybe she can show you around.”

Alyson gave Jackson the evil eye and then looked at Samson. “I generally don’t dabble in the competitive market. But I have a lot of connections and would be happy to pair you with one of my associates who could show you around.”

“I think she just told me that I can’t afford any of the properties in her portfolio but she’d pawn me off on someone who can show me some cheaper ones.” Samson smiled, and the entire room seemed to illuminate.

“I think she did,” Jackson agreed.

“What is it that you do for a living, Mister...”

“Steel.”

“You steal for a living?” she asked.

He and Jackson both laughed a hearty laugh.

“My name is Steel. Samson Steel,” he said.

“Oh.” She felt silly, but offered a gentle smile. “The most modest home in my portfolio, Mr. Steel, appraised at half a million dollars last week. We’re asking much more than that.”

“Great! I’d like to see it.”

He was wasting her time! Between helping to plan a wedding and juggling appointments with clients in Miami and the islands, she didn’t have time to play games with Samson Steel. She pulled a business card from her purse and handed it to him. “My website is on there. Why don’t you peruse the homes on my site and see if there’s anything that you’re interested in? Save us both a lot of time and effort.”

He studied the card. Flipped it over. “So I can reach you at this number?”

“If necessary,” she said.

“Is it your personal cell, or will this take me to voice mail?”

“I don’t do voice mail, Mr. Steel. My clientele is way too important for that. I have a personal assistant who handles all of my calls.”

“Ah, I see,” he said thoughtfully. “I’ll give you a call in the morning. Maybe you can fit me in tomorrow afternoon.”

“Can’t tomorrow. Early afternoon, I have an appointment with a client. And then right after that, I’m scheduled to taste wedding cake with my sister.”

“Um, Alyson... I meant to tell you that we’d rescheduled that appointment for Friday,” Jasmine chimed in. “The bakery called this morning.”

“When exactly were you going to tell me?” she attempted to whisper.

“I called Jules and had her check your schedule, and she penciled you in for the tasting on Friday. So it looks like you’re free tomorrow afternoon...to show Samson some properties...” she caught Alyson’s wicked glance “...or not.”

“Call my office tomorrow, and I’ll try to fit you in.” There was no way out of this one.

“I appreciate that, Alyson Talbot.” He smiled widely again. “I’m looking forward to you fitting me in.”

He shouldn’t get it twisted, she thought. This would be strictly business.

Chapter 2

No doubt, he was enigmatic—it kept people at arm’s length. It allowed him to share only what he wanted others to know. He’d come to the Bahamas where the only person he knew was Jackson Conner, his buddy from college. They’d met at Harvard and had kept in touch over the years. Though they hadn’t spoken every day, he considered Jackson to be a good friend. And he was shocked to learn that Jackson had abandoned his hometown of Key West, fallen in love with a Bahamian girl and taken up residence in the Caribbean. His friend had always been a city fellow. A contractor, Jackson had owned a successful business in Florida and had built some of the finest properties that Samson had ever seen. That is, until meeting Jasmine Talbot.

It was Jackson whom Samson called on the phone that day when life seemed unbearable.

“I never thought you’d leave Florida. And I’m surprised that some woman has snagged you and taken you toward the altar!” Samson had told Jackson.

“I never thought I would, either,” said Jackson, “but love has a way of rearranging your entire life.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’m an eternal bachelor.”

“Yep, I thought I was, too,” said Jackson. “You just need to bump into that woman who will turn your world upside down.”

“I’ve had plenty of women turn my world upside down, for a good twenty, maybe thirty minutes.” Samson laughed. “And then I’d roll over and fall asleep.”

“I’m talking about for life, not just in the bedroom,” Jackson said. “You should come over here for a visit, man! It’s the best place to clear your head after everything that’s happened. Besides, I’d really like for you to be here for the wedding.”

“Jackson Conner’s getting married,” said Samson. “Wow!”

“It’s not that far-fetched,” Jackson said. “Now you, on the other hand, you’re afraid of marriage.”

“I’m not afraid of marriage. I just don’t think it’s necessary. There are too many beautiful women out there to settle down with just one.” Samson sighed. “But that’s just the world according to Samson. Obviously you have a different opinion about it, bro.”

“I absolutely do. And you will, too, someday. Some little honey is going to snatch your ass up one day, have you making her an omelet wearing nothing more than an apron and your birthday suit.”

They both laughed. It had been months since Samson had joked like that. There hadn’t been much to laugh about.

“I can’t live without her. I had to make her my wife.” Jackson was more serious then. “She changed my life.”

“I’m truly happy for you, Jax man. I wish you the best.”

“What about you? What’s your next move?”

“Don’t know.”

“Come over here for a few weeks,” Jackson had insisted. “Relax a bit. Get a new perspective.”

“I don’t know, man.”

“I’ll have Jasmine hook you up with a room at the Grove,” Jackson said emphatically.

The Grove was a trio of old homes that had been transformed by Jackson’s construction company into beautiful beachfront properties. Each home had its own distinct personality, theme and name. Ironically, Samson had chosen to stay in the home that happened to share his name, Samson Place. It was tranquil and bold, much like him. Decorated in Caribbean colors—pink, blue and yellow—Samson soon found his temporary home there. After settling in at the Grove, he’d resolved to only return to Chicago when his head was clear, and not a day before.

When he’d first laid eyes on Alyson Talbot, he thought she was beautiful. Her hard exterior was a dead giveaway. She was able to fool everybody else, but he had her figured out from the beginning. She was insecure. He flirted because...hell...he was a flirt. Samson was charismatic and loved women—and they loved him. He knew he’d never settle down with any of them for any significant length of time anyway. So he had fun—enjoyed life. Not because he had a fear of commitment, but because he knew he’d never find everything he wanted in one woman. It was impossible.

As beautiful as Alyson Talbot was, she wasn’t his type. In his opinion, she was snooty and judgmental—two qualities that he wouldn’t tolerate. He’d already read her, and had met a million other women just like her in his lifetime. And concluded that she’d been hurt by someone in her past, which was why she’d decided to take it out on every man alive. And that, he didn’t have time for. He was too busy healing his own wounds, which was why he was in the Bahamas to begin with.

He sat on a stool, the acoustic guitar resting on his leg, his fingertips fretting the strings. He closed his eyes for a moment. Listened as the music resonated through the room. It was a beautiful love song, and the band’s lead singer sang the Caribbean ballad with confidence. When Samson opened his eyes, he caught Alyson eyeballing him from across the room. Her eyes were focused on him, and his on her. For a brief moment he thought she was feeling him. That is, until she seemed to realize she’d stared too long, and looked away. She began toying with her phone.

She was dressed in business attire, and he doubted that she even owned a pair of sweatpants or jeans. She probably didn’t dress down very often. Always on guard, always prepared, regimented. A pair of black slacks hugged her ample hips. A gray jacket barely contained her generous bosom. He thought she was sexy as hell, with long flowing hair, high cheekbones and a gorgeous, fleeting smile.

He wasn’t interested in settling in the Bahamas, but he was interested in getting in between Alyson Talbot’s thighs. If spending time with her meant he had to look at beautiful properties along the island’s coast, then he’d entertain it. Contrary to what she believed, he could own just about any property he wanted on the islands. He’d invested his money well and had built quite the nest egg. He had money and could afford any of Alyson’s properties, but it wasn’t real estate that he was interested in at all. Besides, he was sure that the island life wasn’t for him. After all, he was a big-city man with big-city hopes and dreams. And the thought of living on an island seemed too constricting.

Chicago had been his home all of his life. He grew up in Hyde Park. His grandfather Conrad Steel had served for many years as a Chicago police officer before retiring. His father, Cecil, had followed in his footsteps, and joined the force at a young age. Becoming a police officer had never been Samson’s dream, and even with the pressure of preserving the family’s tradition, he chose law instead. He’d attended the University of Chicago on a music scholarship, with hopes of becoming an accomplished guitarist. However, an undergraduate law class had changed all of that. Becoming a lawyer was inevitable at that point.

He hopped down from the stool and handed the acoustic guitar back to its rightful owner. Shook hands with every member of Onyx, the band that had welcomed him like an old friend. He talked music for a few minutes with the band members and exchanged phone numbers. He laughed with them as they all promised to get together again.

“I’m thinking you should play with us at the wedding,” said Justice, the band’s guitarist. “I have an extra guitar.”

“I think that would be great,” the lead singer, Kosmo, agreed.

“I brought my own guitar with me. It’s in my room.” He rarely traveled anywhere without his cherished instrument, affectionately known as Bailey. “But I don’t think I’m quite ready to play at the wedding.”

“Why not?” asked Kosmo. “You’re no amateur.”

He looked across the room at the spot where Alyson had stood playing with her phone. She was gone.

“You were absolutely wonderful,” said Bijou. Her gentle hands caressed his back, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to do. The Caribbean beauty had been a beast on the drums. With copper-colored eyes, a petite frame and a head filled with curly tresses, Bijou was drop-dead gorgeous.

“Thank you. You’re quite the musician yourself. How long have you played?”

“All my life,” she said, and then changed the subject. “How long will you be on the island?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” It was an honest answer.

“Maybe I could take you on a tour of the island. Show you around a bit.”

“So you live here?” He disregarded her invitation. Needed time to absorb it.

“I’m here in the Eleuthera temporarily. I’m from Cat Island. Are you staying here—at the Grove?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Good! I can pick you up tomorrow evening. I’ll show you some of the best beaches on the island.” She wasn’t shy at all. “Wear your trunks.”

He was intrigued by her wickedly sexy smile. A cropped top revealed toned abs; a silver ring pierced her navel. Tight denim shorts hugged her hips, and revealed a set of smooth, cappuccino-colored legs. A heart-shaped tattoo played peekaboo on the inside of her right thigh. Samson couldn’t wait to kiss his way from that heart all the way up to her sweet spot.

“I’ll wear my trunks,” he flirted. “Will you be wearing yours?”

She moved closer in, brought her lips to his earlobe and whispered, “I usually don’t wear anything at all when I swim.”

She walked away, moving her hips from side to side. He watched her, admiring her round ass. She must’ve known he was watching because she turned around and gave him a grin and a wink. He exhaled.

“Damn,” he whispered to himself.

“I’m only going to have a small window of time tomorrow.” Alyson startled him as she walked up from behind. “I’ll meet you at the water ferry at three. Not a minute after. Not three fifteen. Not three twenty-five. I don’t like being late, and I will not wait for you to arrive. You have my business card—call if you need to cancel. My time is valuable. Please don’t waste it.”

She was walking away before he had an opportunity to respond. Her round hips moved to their own music. He thought that watching Bijou walk away was nice, but watching Alyson walk away was downright delightful.

Chapter 3

Alyson thought Samson was a musician and a drifter, and couldn’t afford the guesthouse of some of the properties in her portfolio. However, she’d managed to find a few condos and a villa that she thought might be in his price range and fit his tastes. She arrived at the water ferry a few minutes early, stood on the dock and answered a couple emails on her phone.

Butterflies stirred in her stomach as she waited for him to arrive. She pulled a small compact from her purse and checked her hair and makeup, again. She’d spent too much time preparing for this encounter. Way too much time. And she didn’t like what she was feeling. She was nervous, and for no good reason. As strong and as independent as she was, her knees still felt somewhat weak when she was in the presence of Samson Steel.

Well, that was yesterday. Today would be better. She’d exhibit more strength. He wouldn’t make her feel vulnerable again. She wasn’t his type anyway. She saw the way he gawked at that young girl in the band—the drummer with the small waistline, skinny legs, exposed flat stomach. He looked all goo-goo eyed. If he liked slight girls, then Bijou was more his type, not her.

She sent a text message to the owner of one of her listings, Jennifer Madison: I have a strong buyer for Madison House. All cash. Full price offer. Quick closing.

Jennifer replied after a few moments: Great. Send over the contract and I’ll take a look at it.

I’m also showing it this afternoon.

The Madisons weren’t any ordinary family. Jennifer Madison’s father had built a successful real estate development company. They were a prominent family that owned homes on Miami’s Palm and Fisher Islands, as well as properties along the coast in the Bahamas. But of all the houses that they owned, the Madison home was Alyson’s baby. It was her first listing that even came close to a million dollars. Her firm had listed plenty of homes on the islands, but she’d personally nurtured this one. It was by far her most expensive listing yet, and was sure to net her a substantial commission—one that would change the financial face of Alyson Talbot and Associates. A sale of that magnitude would earn her the business of every one of Jennifer Madison’s rich friends and associates. She desperately needed it.

The pant legs of her linen Armani suit blew in the wind. Her recently pedicured toes peeked through her shoes, and she’d worn a professional-looking blouse but made sure she showed just a little cleavage—just to tease Samson a bit, show him what he couldn’t have.

He stepped out of a taxi wearing denim shorts, brown leather sandals, a snug gray T-shirt and a gray plaid newsboy cap on his head. He was clearly dressed down, but he even made dress-down look sexy. His perfectly manicured beard caused him to have a strong resemblance to Omari Hardwick. Alyson found it difficult to peel her eyes from his muscular, tattooed arms. She thought it ridiculous for any human being to defile their body in such a way, but there was something tantalizing about Samson’s body art. She looked away. Didn’t want him to catch her staring. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing that she thought he was one of the sexiest men she’d met.

He paid the driver and then headed her way.

“You made it on time,” she said.

“Better than that. I’m five minutes early,” he boasted.

She looked at her watch, and then up at him. His arms were folded across his chest, and a smirk danced in the corner of his mouth.

“That you are.” She avoided eye contact.

“Good seeing you again, Alyson. I appreciate you fitting me into your busy schedule.”

She ignored his greeting and instead ran down their plans for the day. “We’re going to take the water taxi over to Governor’s Harbour. There are a few houses I can show you over there. They aren’t as elaborate, but I’m sure they would fit into your price range.”

“You don’t even know what my price range is. You haven’t asked.”

“You’re a musician. And not a professional one. I admit I’m being a bit presumptive, but—”

“I’d say you’re being extremely presumptive,” he said. “Is this how you handle all of your clients, or just the ones you devalue?”

“Are you telling me that you can afford a property that costs more than two hundred thousand dollars?”

“I’m telling you that you never gave me the courtesy of asking what my price range was. You assumed that I couldn’t afford the properties in your portfolio,” he mocked her. “Isn’t there a process to this? Shouldn’t there be standard questions that you ask a potential client?”

“I do have a few questions, Mr. Steel. Like, what are you doing in the Bahamas for an extended period of time? What are you running from? Do you have a woman or a baby mama in the States who’s chasing you for child support?”

“Those are really inappropriate questions,” he said.

“I apologize. I think we got off on the wrong foot.” She handed him a sheet of paper from her briefcase. “Here’s a list of properties that I thought you might be interested in. If this is not your price range, we can adjust.”

He took the list and gave it a quick review. Handed it back to her. “Actually, I brought my own list.”

He reached into the back pocket of his shorts, pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. She opened it. Gave it a quick scan.

“These properties are close to a million dollars!”

“Your point?”

She ignored his question. “And besides, the Madison property already has a buyer.”

“That’s the one that I’m most interested in. I saw it on your website this morning. It was the only one that had a video. You should do that with all of your properties, by the way...add a video. Excellent selling point. And your website didn’t indicate that that property was sold, by the way.”

“I just spoke with the owner this morning, and she’s waiting for me to send over the contract right now.” Why was she explaining this to him? “I already have a solid offer on it.”

“But you haven’t accepted that offer yet, right?”

“Well...”

“I would like to see the place.”

“Why would I show you a property that’s not for sale? And if I thought for one second that you could afford it, I couldn’t show it to you today anyway. It’s on Abaco—over a hundred miles from here. It would take us too long to get there by boat.”

“I don’t have anything but time.”

“It would be a complete waste of time.”

“It’s not the only property on Abaco that I’m interested in. There are others in the same general vicinity.”

“We don’t have transportation.”

“Actually, we do. Jasmine told me that your cousin Stephen owns a boat, and he often transports you between the islands. She even gave him a buzz, and asked if he was available today. He was more than happy to oblige. So what’s your excuse now?”

He was right. Their cousin Stephen was very accommodating whenever she needed use of his boat. Often if his schedule permitted, he’d drive Alyson between islands to meet with clients and show properties. But she didn’t need her sister planning her day for her, or telling Samson Steel all of her business. She’d address that with Jasmine the next time she saw her.

Sooner than she would have liked, Stephen pulled the boat to shore and tied it to the dock. He waved for them to come along. Alyson gathered herself and walked toward the boat. Samson followed closely behind.

She wasn’t sure what the day would bring, but so far she wasn’t pleased with its start.

Chapter 4

On Sophia, Stephen’s powerboat, they traveled at a fast pace across the Atlantic Ocean. Stephen steered the boat through the clear turquoise waters. Alyson reclined on the leather seat on the port side of the boat, behind Stephen, while Samson relaxed in its bow. His back was to her, so she had an opportunity to check him out without his knowledge.

Samson and Stephen chatted about everything under the sun—whatever it was that men chatted about. Occasionally she’d tune in to the conversation, which didn’t really amount to anything more than a conversation about the ocean, deep-sea diving and the Islands of the Bahamas. Stephen was a diver, and boasted about it every chance he got. He’d go diving for fish and lobsters. Stephen told Samson about his and Alyson’s upbringing. As first cousins, they spent a great deal of time together as children and even as teens and adults. The Talbots were a close-knit clan.

When they arrived on Abaco, Stephen tied a rope from the cleat of the boat to the dock. He helped Alyson climb out of the boat first, and then helped Samson.

“I have a couple that I’m taking on a sightseeing tour,” Stephen said. “Shouldn’t take me more than an hour, Chicken.”

Chicken was a nickname that she’d never outgrown. It was a name that clearly didn’t describe her, as she was not afraid of anything. However, some of her family members saw fit to give it to her anyway, and she hated it.

“An hour? Are you kidding me?” she asked. “Why didn’t you tell me you had business on Abaco before you brought me here?”

“Alyson, this is my livelihood. I always schedule other business when we come here. You know that. I have to take advantage of every opportunity to make money.”

Stephen was definitely an entrepreneur. He owned a rental shop along the beach on the Eleuthera, where he rented jet skis and surfboards by the hour. He used his powerboat to transport tourists between the islands. Though Alyson often complained, she appreciated him allowing her to tag along on his moneymaking trips. But because he was her younger cousin, she felt obligated to give him a hard time—each and every time. It was a habit that she hadn’t quite grown out of. She didn’t care about Stephen leaving her for an hour, but spending time alone with Samson was what she feared most.

“Hurry back.” She kissed her cousin’s cheek. “I need to get back to the Eleuthera before nightfall. I have an early meeting that I need to prepare for.”

“Good luck with her,” Stephen told Samson. “She’s impossible to deal with.”

“I’m not impossible! I’m just a woman who knows what she wants.”

Stephen shook his head, and then stood on the deck. Lit a cigarette. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way back.”

* * *

Madison House was one of the most alluring properties in the Abacos. Positioned at sixty-eight feet above sea level and overlooking the Sea of Abaco, the magnificent beauty boasted six bedrooms and a great room all connected by massive breezeways. Each bedroom had its own private balcony. The vaulted ceilings, Brazilian wood flooring and the glass walls were by far the main attractions. The view of the beach from the great room was stunning.

“There are no words to describe this property,” said Samson. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything more beautiful.”

“You like, huh?” she asked.

“It’s breathtaking.”

Samson followed her across the mahogany floors and into the kitchen with its upscale stainless-steel appliances and a dumbwaiter. French doors off the kitchen led to a porch that wrapped all the way around the property. She stepped outside and felt the tropical air against her face—breathed it in.

“I could live here.” Samson said it softly.

“Unfortunately it’s not for sale. But since you insisted on seeing it, here it is,” she told him.

“Here it is, indeed.”

They stepped back inside and took the winding staircase to the second level and to the master suite. Huge glass French doors led to an enormous private balcony with a view of the ocean.

“This is unreal,” said Samson.

It took them more than thirty minutes to finish the tour. When they were done, she set the alarm and secured the property.

“We can use the golf cart from this house, and I’ll drive you over to a nearby property. Of course it’s a little more quaint, but still very beautiful.”

“I’ll follow your lead,” he said.

They drove the golf cart along the road to a smaller three-bedroom house on Marsh Harbour. Tall palm trees greeted them in front of the well-manicured yard.

“This one seems a little more practical,” Samson said as they entered the home. “I like the kitchen. It’s much bigger than the other house.”

“Why would you care about a kitchen?”

“I cook. And very well, as a matter of fact.”

“And what is it that you cook?” she asked with a bit of skepticism in her voice.

“A little of everything, but mostly soul food. Collard greens and the best fried chicken you’ve ever tasted,” he boasted. “I make a mean sweet potato pie, too.”

She looked at him. “You make sweet potato pie?”

“A mean one,” he insisted.

“That’s my favorite pie. I can eat a whole one all by myself.”

“Well, maybe I’ll make you one someday,” said Samson. “Do you cook?”

“All my life. Mostly Bahamian dishes. Our mother made sure we all learned how to cook. Said the quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.” She laughed. “Not that I care about getting to a man’s heart. But it’s nice to know how to cook, nonetheless. At least I’ll never go hungry, right?”

“Why aren’t you interested in getting to a man’s heart? Aren’t you interested in men?”

“Of course I’m interested in men.” She set her purse down on the kitchen counter. “But I’m just not interested in the whole drama of a relationship right now. Don’t have the time or the energy. My life is fine just the way it is.”

“Relationships don’t always have to bring drama. Maybe you’re unhappy by your own choosing.”

“I never said I was unhappy! I’m quite happy, in fact.” She was convincing herself more than him. “But I’m just not interested in the whole drama of a relationship right now. Don’t have the time or the energy. My life is fine just the way it is.”

“Relationships don’t always have to bring drama. Maybe you’re unhappy by your own choosing.”

“I never said I was unhappy! I’m quite happy, in fact.” She was convincing herself more than him. “But what about you? You have a wife, girlfriend or baby’s mother back in...wherever it is you came from?”

“Chicago. And none of the above. I’m a happy bachelor.”

“So you live in Chicago?”

“Southside.”

“What part?”

“In a historical, black neighborhood. A lot of culture there.”

“Isn’t there also a lot of crime?”

“Not any more than anyplace else. And where do you live, on Miami’s Fisher Island somewhere?”

“Downtown.”

“Should’ve known.”

“What do you mean, ‘should’ve known’? I’ll have you know that downtown Miami is very cultural. A lot of history there, as well,” she explained. “And why do you live in Southside Chicago, anyway?”

“It’s my home. I was born and raised there. It’s where I grew up. I’m proud of my home. I envy your upbringing. Must’ve been nice, growing up in the Bahamas.”

“It was restricting. I outgrew this place. Quickly!”

It had been years since she’d lived on the islands. A native of the Bahamas, she’d gone away to college and vowed never to return to the islands permanently. And even after the completion of her family’s bed-and-breakfast, the Grove, she still had no desire to return. However, visiting properties with Samson caused her to remember why she loved the Bahamas so much. It was still her home, where her family lived, and still one of the most beautiful places in the world.

Her father was a retired physician, and he was the best example of what she wanted in a man. Genuine and caring and very intuitive, he was part of the reason she’d never settled down with anyone. No one could ever compare to him. That and the fact that her mother’s voice was forever in her head about everything. Her mother’s little anecdotes and lessons lived in her mind. She didn’t know why she listened to her mother, though. Beverly Talbot had done the opposite of what she constantly encouraged her daughters to do. She told them to follow their dreams, when she’d abandoned her own dreams only to follow their father’s.

“Sometimes in life, we make sacrifices, Alyson.” That had been her mother’s excuse. “I wanted a better life for you guys. That’s why I didn’t follow my dreams.”

Alyson and her siblings had certainly benefited from their mother’s sacrifices. Their parents had somehow managed to put every one of them through college. Everyone except for Alyson’s youngest brother, Denny, who’d chosen the military instead. He was currently away completing officer’s training in the United States. The rebellious one with a mind and style of his own, he’d certainly been the exception to the Talbot family rule.

Somehow he’d also managed to weasel his way out of working for their family’s business. The Grove was their inheritance—passed down to them from their grandfather Clyde Talbot. They each had a stake in the business. Jasmine had been the first to move back to the islands to oversee the construction of the family’s B and B. She’d written the business and marketing plan. And after the renovation had been completed by her fiancé, she’d been instrumental in hiring staff and overseeing the day-to-day operations.

But Jasmine was becoming overwhelmed. Their youngest sister, Whitney, a schoolteacher in Texas, had made promises that she would move back home after the school year ended, but so far that hadn’t happened, and Jasmine needed help. Planning a wedding and running the Grove was certainly taking its toll on her. As a result, Alyson found herself on the islands more often than she wanted to be. It had been weeks since she’d been to her home in Miami.

“If we’re done looking around, I should lock up.”

“I’m done,” said Samson.

Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket. It was a text message from Stephen.

Taking a bit longer than expected. Might be another hour...maybe two. Sorry J

“Really, Stephen!” she said aloud.

“What?” Samson asked.

“He said he might be an hour or two longer,” she explained. “I apologize.”

“Don’t,” said Samson. “Let’s just make the best of it.”

“How?”

“There’s a beautiful beach a few steps from here. I say we take advantage of it.”

“I say we don’t. I’m not even dressed for the beach.”

“When was the last time you just let your hair down?”

“I can’t remember. I don’t have time to let my hair down.”

“Well, today you will.” Samson grabbed her hand and ushered her out of the kitchen and through the living room, straight to the front door.

“Just let me lock up.”

* * *

Samson didn’t waste any time removing his hat and laying it atop a huge rock. He pulled his T-shirt over his head, and all Alyson took in were golden brown abs and strong arms and the beautiful sunshine beaming against smooth skin. He removed the leather sandals from his feet and headed for the water. He didn’t even bother to remove his trousers before jumping in for a swim.

“The water’s warm!” he yelled.

“That’s nice.”

“Why don’t you take your clothes off and come in?”

“Imagine that,” she said, and then decided to remove her leather pumps.

The last thing she needed was to ruin a perfectly good pair of Manolo Blahnik shoes. Never mind that she’d caught them on clearance at a Saks end-of-season sale. Still, they weren’t cheap! And she would not be removing her clothes in front of a man that she barely knew. She was appalled that he would even suggest it.

She rolled up the legs of her pants, tiptoed through the sand and moved closer to the water. Samson was doing a backstroke in the water. He was moving farther away from the shore, and she feared that he was being careless.

“Hey!” she called. “You shouldn’t swim so far out.”

He smiled and waved and continued to swim farther out. Soon he disappeared, and she couldn’t see his head. Her heart pounded as she moved closer, and soon she was standing in the water.

“Samson!” she called again.

No response and no sight of him. She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. She quickly tried to dial 911, but her fingers were shaking.

Samson had swam farther out into the deep part of the ocean. She was breathless when she didn’t see him anymore.

A Jet Ski zoomed past, and she tried flagging it down. They waved as if she was saying hello, and kept moving. She crept farther into the water. As she pressed the numbers on her cell phone, it slipped from her grasp and fell into the water.

“Shit!” she exclaimed and crouched down to pick it up.

She missed seeing the wave that suddenly crashed against the shore and the side of her face. It soaked her hair and clothing with one splash. She inhaled deeply and attempted to catch her breath. Then she tried turning her cell phone on.

“Looking for someone?” Samson popped up out of the water, startling her.

“Are you crazy?” She swung at him, but he grabbed her hands. Restrained her.

“What is wrong with you?”

“I thought you drowned!”

“Well, I didn’t.” He grinned. “I’m glad to know that you cared, though. You were willing to save my life?”

“Let go of me! You are so twisted! And this is definitely not funny!” she yelled. “You’re an asshole! My phone probably doesn’t work anymore, and my hair is wet and my clothes are soaked!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that you thought I was drowning. I was fine. I’m a swimmer.”

She rushed angrily to shore. Samson followed, attempting to express his sorrow. Her clothes and her hair were ruined, and she was livid. Stephen couldn’t return to the island soon enough, she thought. Samson Steel had certainly burned his bridge with her, and there was no recovering from this.

Chapter 5

The weather in the Bahamas was beautiful—warm and tropical—but it was as cold as ice on the boat ride back to Harbour Island. Samson glanced back at Alyson, who was seated on the port side of the boat. She’d managed to pull her wet hair back into a ponytail. Her clothes were wrinkled and drenched. A pair of overpriced shoes rested next to her on the seat, and a set of earbuds was inside her ears. He wondered what she was listening to, but dared not ask. He was just grateful that her phone still worked.

“She’ll be okay.” Stephen caught him checking her out.

“I didn’t know she thought I was drowning. I went out a little deeper than I probably should have,” Samson tried to explain. “And she should’ve seen me swimming back to shore.”

“She said she wasn’t looking...too busy trying to get her phone to work. But I tell you what... I wished I’d have seen her rushing out into the water like that. I bet that was a sight to see.” Stephen laughed.

“Why doesn’t she date?” Samson asked.

“Oh, she dates,” said Stephen. “She just doesn’t commit. She’s afraid of letting someone in. Whenever someone gets too close, she runs them away.”

“Dealing with her seems like so much work.”

“Alyson Talbot is a lot of work. But I believe when the right guy comes along, she’ll let him in.”

Samson glanced at Alyson one last time. Her eyes were closed this time.

The trio reached Harbour Island by nightfall. Samson helped Stephen guide the boat to the deck and secure it with a rope. Stephen helped Alyson climb out, and then he helped Samson. She never looked his way, just stomped toward a bench and sat down, folding her arms across her chest.

“Give me a minute and I’ll drive you both to the Grove,” Stephen said.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take a cab!” Alyson snapped.

* * *

Samson Place was decorated in tropical colors—pink and turquoise. It was tranquil and oozed with romance. It was the sort of place where lovers retreated for long weekends. He watched as Alyson spoke briefly with the young woman at the front desk. The woman handed her a key, and she breezed right past Samson, walking briskly toward the wooden stairwell.

“I’m sorry, Alyson.” It was his last attempt at penance.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said and kept walking.

With a long sigh, he pulled his room key out of his pocket and headed for his room, as well.

“Where have you been?” Samson recognized the voice immediately. Bijou wore a bikini top and a pair of cutoff jeans. Flat stomach, silky smooth legs and leather flip-flops. Her toes were painted in a hot-pink nail polish that matched her bikini top. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Did you forget?”

“Forget what?” he asked.

“That we had a date, silly.” Her breasts were perfectly round and buoyant. “Remember, I was going to show you around the island?”

He didn’t think they’d actually set a date. In fact, he thought they were just making flirtatious small talk. “Was that today?” he asked.

“You did forget.” She pouted.

“I can’t today, Bijou. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, no, mister!” She grabbed his arm. “I’m not letting you renege.”

He couldn’t believe he’d actually agreed to the rendezvous. And there was little he could do to get out of it, so he followed Bijou to an old pickup truck parked in front of Samson Place. Bijou jumped into the driver’s seat and slammed the door shut. Samson reluctantly walked around to the other side of the truck, hopped into the passenger’s seat and slammed his door shut. She started the engine, and although the rusty Chevy was in desperate need of a paint job, the engine hummed like it was brand-new. He held on to the door handle as Bijou peeled away from the curb. She tuned the radio to a Caribbean party station and turned up the volume as loud as it would go. He held his breath as she sped through the streets of Harbour Island. He barely heard as she pointed out some of the island’s landmarks. His mind was elsewhere—on Alyson and the anticipation of making amends with her.

“Let’s go for a swim!” Bijou pulled up at the beach without warning.

“Let’s not,” he told her. “I didn’t bring any trunks.”

He didn’t need trunks, but had no desire to take a swim with Bijou. He’d had his fill of swimming in the ocean for one day, and it hadn’t gone well at all.

“Don’t you want to go skinny-dipping?”

What man wouldn’t want to skinny-dip with a beautiful woman like Bijou? He’d be crazy not to.

“Maybe another time,” he said. “You think you could drive me back to the Grove now?”

“You’re putting me off.” She poked her lip out.

He didn’t have an answer, and couldn’t believe he was turning down an opportunity to skinny-dip with a beautiful woman. His buddies back home would be giving him the side-eye, wondering if he’d grown soft.

He managed a smile. “Rain check?”

Bijou wasn’t giving up without a fight. She untied the strings of her bikini halter top and dropped it. Her breasts sprung to life. He noted that they were a beautiful shade of brown with perky nipples. Her fingertips reached for his face, caressed his temples. She grabbed his hand and slipped his index finger into her mouth. “Still want to go back to the Grove?”

“Those...are...very beautiful.” He breathed in deeply. There was no denying he was aroused, but he stood his ground.

He didn’t know when it happened, but Alyson had become his new endeavor, and getting her attention had suddenly become his focus.

“Glad you like them.” She smiled seductively.

“Please put your top back on.”

“Was it something I said?” she asked. “I was too forward.”

“It’s not you. It’s me.” He sounded like a cliché, but he didn’t care. He had no desire to impress Bijou. “It’s just that I need to get back and speak with someone.”

“With that woman—Jasmine’s sister. The stuffy one,” she said matter-of-factly. “It’s too bad she has such a bad attitude.”

“She’s beautiful, though,” Samson rebutted.

“She’s a bit overweight.”

Samson laughed at Bijou’s cattiness. He thought her jealousy was cute. Alyson was far from overweight, in his opinion. She had curves in all the right places. He thought she was sexy as hell, and couldn’t seem to get her out of his head. Bijou lifted her bikini top back up and tied it around her neck again. She started the truck, put it in Reverse and peeled out of the sand at full speed. He wasn’t sure she was able to drive at a normal pace, or even move at a normal pace, for that matter. A man usually had to work hard for what she was willing to give so freely. Fast was definitely her middle name. A week ago, he’d have appreciated Bijou’s audacity. Women had always been his weakness. He couldn’t think of anything better than a beautiful woman’s body pressed against his. But his priorities were suddenly beginning to change.

In an attempt to drown the uncomfortable silence in the truck, Bijou turned up the stereo as loud as it would go. He gazed out the window to keep from looking her way. He wanted to apologize to her, but couldn’t find the words. He just needed to be back at the Grove, and it seemed he couldn’t get there soon enough.

* * *

He found Alyson in the common area at Samson Place. She was reclined on the tangerine-colored antique sofa, pecking ferociously on the keyboard of her laptop. Instead of approaching her immediately, he found his way to the kitchen. Raquel, one of the Grove’s Bahamian cooks, stood in front of the stove with an apron tied around her generous hips.

“Can I get two cups of tea, please?” he asked.

Raquel stopped stirring something in a huge pot, just long enough to look at him. “She likes green tea, with a splash of lemon and just a drizzle of honey,” she said in her sweet Bahamian accent.

“You mean Alyson?”

“Yes, Miss Talbot is very specific about her tea, amongst other things,” she said as she placed a fire beneath the teakettle and grabbed two large mugs from the mahogany cabinet. “And how do you like your tea, Mr. Steel?”

He wondered how she knew his name. It seemed that everyone around the island had become fully acquainted with him.

“I’ll have mine the same way as hers, I guess.”

“She’s mad. You know that, right?” Raquel asked. “You messed up royally.”

“You heard her mention it?”

“The whole house did.” Raquel shook her head. “Came in here ranting and raving about her time being valuable, and her clothes and hair being ruined.”

“Wow,” he said.

“Just be yourself, and apologize profusely.”

“You think that’ll work?”

“I’ve known the Talbots for a long time, and it wasn’t that long ago that I changed Alyson’s diapers.” Raquel smiled. “She has a hard exterior, but the truth is, she’s a real softy on the inside...if you can manage to get in there.”

“I don’t see anything soft about Alyson Talbot, except maybe...” He caught himself, realized that he’d said too much. “Never mind.”

“Now, see, that’s what’s wrong, Mister Steel. You got your priorities all mixed up. Thinking with the wrong head. You’re out gallivanting about town with Bijou, doing God only knows what, and now you want to make amends with Miss Talbot. Such a man!”

“I didn’t... I mean, Bijou and I didn’t...”

“I don’t want to hear any of the details, honey. You just need to make up your mind as to what it is that you want.”

“You know a lot about things, Miss Raquel.”

“I know about everything that goes on around here,” she told Samson.

Samson laughed. Where he was from, there was a name for people like Miss Raquel—nosy. Once the teakettle whistled, Raquel made green tea with splashes of lemon and drizzles of honey and then sent him on his way.

“Now go. Be persistent. No woman wants a mouse of a man.”

“I’m not a mouse, Miss Raquel. I’m far from that.”

“Well, good! Because she’s strong and needs someone to take charge. And don’t take no for an answer.” She didn’t smile, but gave him a nod. “Now, go on, child.”

“Thank you.”

He cautiously stepped out of the kitchen and headed toward the area where Alyson was engrossed in her computer. He placed the mug on the rustic coffee table in front of her. “Just the way you like it,” he said.

She stopped pecking on her keyboard for a second, looked up at him and then at the cup. “And how do you know how I like it?”

“I have my sources.”

“Raquel has a big mouth.” She began typing again.

“I need you to accept my apology. What I did was juvenile and thoughtless.” He plopped down in the chair opposite the sofa.

“Already forgotten.” She grabbed the cup and took a sip. A look of satisfaction briefly appeared on her face.

“Could’ve fooled me. You keep giving me these looks of disgust—scowling at me.”

“Maybe it’s your own imagination. Don’t give yourself so much credit,” she said.

“So you’re not scowling at me?”

“Nope,” she lied, and then changed the subject. “Did you enjoy your evening?”

“You mean my tour of the island? I did indeed.”

“And I’m sure you enjoyed your beautiful tour guide, as well.”

“Bijou is a nice girl.”

“I agree. Hopefully she doesn’t get taken advantage of by the likes of you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean—‘the likes of me’?”

“Playboy, philanderer. You choose the term.”

“I love women. That’s not something I can argue. In some circles I might be considered a playboy, if you will.” He wasn’t helping his case very much. “But right now I have my sights on one woman—and one woman only.”

“And who might that be?”

“The one who’s giving me the hardest time, who won’t let things go.”

“I don’t dwell on things, Mr. Steel.”

“Then have dinner with me tomorrow evening. Give me a chance to redeem myself.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can. You have to eat. Rock House at seven. I’m not taking no for an answer. Be there at seven. And don’t be late.” He stood and headed for the stairwell before she had an opportunity to run down a hundred excuses why she couldn’t make it. He took Raquel’s advice and stood his ground.

Raquel was peeking out from the kitchen and gave him a wink as he passed. He gave her a wide grin and then headed up to his room. Didn’t even turn to see the expression on Alyson’s face. He was sure she was astounded.

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