Page 1 of Forever Mine

Chapter 1

“Somehow, we didn’t realize the room was double-booked,” the reservation agent said. Two spots of color flushed the blonde’s cheeks, and she avoided looking directly at me when she added, “I’m really sorry, Miss Young.”

She had my sympathy, but I needed solutions.

“That doesn’t help my situation,” I said, pushing the hair off my forehead.

The man standing next to me put away his cell phone, which pinged a moment ago. My gaze shot to his face, and he looked at me through a hank of black hair.Light-brownstreaksthreaded through the strands and the tips seemed to have been bleached by the sun.

His eyes were a startling shade, which shifted from dark to midnight blue as he looked at me. Perhaps it was the hair hanging over one eye, and covering half his face, which gave that impression. I wanted to move the hair out of the way, but it didn't seem to bother him.

His lips quirked, in what might have been a half-smile, before thewoman behind the counter spoke and captured his attention.

It was then I noticed his beard. I wasn't fond of them, but the dense stubble on his face gave him a bohemian air that reminded me of sun, sea, and sand. Island breezes, exotic drinks, and warm nights on the beach also came to mind. I put my thoughts down to me being intrigued by an attractive man. That hadn’t been the case for some time.

My flight of fancy almost made mesmilewhen I looked at the hotel employee, but I suppressed the urge. She would have thought I was deranged if I grinned without an obvious reason, especially given the challenge facing all three of us. On the periphery of my vision, a herd of people moved toward the check-in counter.

The guy’s phone pinged again, and he got it out and looked at the screen. He sighed and dropped it into his pocket.

“Tell you what,” he said, tipping his chin toward me. “Give her the room, then try to find me something. The hotel messed up. You need to fix this.”

His husky voice sent a shiver down the back of my neck. For me, that was an alien reaction. I stiffened my spine and put it down to being out of sorts because of my current plight.

The woman behind the counter dipped her head toward the screen in front of her. When she looked up, she said, “Give me a moment please. I’ll be right back.”

His nod was curt, and he muttered as he shoved a hand into his pocket.

The phone had summoned him again. Whatever he had going on seemed to be urgent, which reminded me I’d be in a pickle if I didn’t get this room.

I hated travelling. Seriously hated it. Nothing ever seemed to go according to plan. If one thing didn't go bad, it was another. First, the travel agent couldn't get me on the same flight as the graphic artists I was supposed to be supervising. This was their first trip abroad and the two of them were giddy as hell. Then, I'd been put on standby by the hotel hosting the animation conference. They contacted us days ago to say they had a room available, and now this.

Nothing out of the ordinary happened on the flight from Jamaica to Miami, but my luggage suffered. My suitcase had a puncture wound, and the fabric was ripped. It wasn’t a major deal, but it annoyed me. Maybe because I didn't want to be in Miami in the first place. My life was in Kingston and traveling hadn’t been part of the deal when I started working withCharstatAnimation Studio.

Things had changed since I took the job a year ago. In between new projects being added to the studio’s workload, and meetings with clients, I’d been off the island three times in the last nine months.

The man next to me huffed when his phone rang. He swore, gave me an apologetic glance, and put the cellular to his ear. “Look, Lucy, how many more times do I have to tell you to stop this?”

He moved a few steps away, hunched his shoulders, and lowered his voice.

The people behind me shuffled and a chorus of mumbles rose.

I understood their impatience, but it wasn’t my fault they hadn’t been checked in as yet. The lobby was crowded, and I guessed that aside from the animation conference, the hotelwas booked solid with other guests.

My cell phone buzzed, and I took it out of my handbag.

Mom had sent a message. Did you get there okay?

I wrote back. Yes, I’m about to check in. Sorry. Should have texted when I got here.

I added a heart emoticon and grinned when she sent one blowing a kiss. My mother wasn’t like most sixty-something women. Sometimes, I thought she knew more than I did about messaging apps and social media platforms.

Since I had the phone out, I checked my email. Having done that, I responded to a message from Joey—one of the young men on the trip—who finally answered the text I sent him when I landed. In a few words, he let me know he and Pete arrived safely and were in their room. I tapped out a message, reminding them not to be late for the welcome reception at seven o'clock this evening.

He responded immediately to say they'd meet me in the lobby a few minutes before the function began.

The reservation agent returned at the same time as the man who’d been booked into my room.

“My supervisor found a solution,” the agent said, looking at Blue Eyes. “We’ll put you in another room tonight and—”

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