Page 2 of Passion

Between the emotion of the day, the alcohol, and the intense and overwhelming desire to jump right on that guy's lap and let his cock whisk me into another dimension, my brain wasn’t handling the yo-yo very well. It was definitely for the best that my stomach had decided at that very moment to empty itself in such a hostile manner. That man was like crack, and I was the whore who needed a fix—or at least that’s how I felt.

Men were all the same. Cheaters, liars, manipulators. I was just the stupid one who always fell for their crap. I sat on the ground of that airport bathroom sobbing, wondering when I’d actually meet a man who would treat me right. How was it that I always got stuck with the type of guy who was so full of himself that he’d convince me he was my soul mate, then lie to me, cheat on me, or otherwise break my heart?

Maybe my mother was right and I needed to move back home, be a teacher like she always thought I’d be, and marry the neighbor’s son who sang in the church choir. God knows, I’d tried to find my Mr. Right and come up empty every time.

I’d consider going back to the Big Island after my trip to Elbow Cay. I needed the solace to lick my wounds.

2

LUCAS

“Uh, thanks.” The stewardess set the bottle of scotch on my tray table next to the tiny bag of cookies and pushed her cart down the aisle. I listened to the squeaking wheel that reminded me of the two-dozen or so times I’d been to Elbow Cay. It had become my unofficial home away from home over the past few years, so when this visit came up and I asked my business partner, Henry, if the company jet was available, I was disappointed to find he had already scheduled it to bring him home from Denmark.

Flying commercial didn’t bother me. I’d grown up roughing it and made my way from ground zero, so First Class was still a luxury of sorts. Besides the fact that it was just an hour and twenty-minute flight, which made the mundane parts bearable, and the jet was free after today to bring me home whenever I wanted to return.

I glanced over my shoulder again at the stunning blonde, now being served by the stewardess. When I’d seen her in the bar, her hair was disheveled and hanging in her face. Her eyelids had been heavy with drink, a sadness about them that even if I hadn’t overheard her story, I would still have understood. Her tell-tale sweats and yoga pants said all she needed to say. She was in mourning—though I may have mistaken that for grief over a death, not just a relationship.

When I looked at her on the plane, however, her face looked fresh, like she’d washed it and applied makeup. Her hair was tied up in a bun, and a fresh sweatshirt replaced the stained one. She was absolutely breathtaking. If I wasn’t mistaken, I thought I recognized her from somewhere as well. A face like that never escaped my memory.

I turned away before she noticed me looking at her again, focusing on my drink. Scotch from a minibar poured into a glass just wasn’t the same as the aged variety in my liquor cabinet at home. One of the drawbacks to not having my private jet, but a compromise I made to keep my schedule intact.

We were over halfway into the flight before I started to get too curious. The drink cart had done its rounds and collected the trash, and I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder every few minutes to watch what the mysterious beauty was doing. She had her eyes shut, headphones on, head tilted back. But she wasn’t sleeping. I watched her lips move like she was lip syncing to her favorite song.

Since her eyes were shut, I took the moment to study her further—the beauty mark on her left cheek beneath her eye, the way her cheekbones gracefully supported her eyes. The tiniest bit of the end of her nose turned upward, not so much that it was prominent, but enough to make me want to touch it with the tip of my finger. She was young, probably in her twenties, maybe even her early twenties, but I couldn’t pull my eyes off her.

I noticed then that she had dropped a pair of glasses. They lay at her feet, just inside the aisle where they wouldn’t be stepped on but close enough to her feet that she might crush them. It gave me the in I needed to stop and talk to her, so I rose, readjusting my shirt to smooth any wrinkles, and headed down the aisle toward the toilets. As I neared her seat, I stooped to pick up the glasses.

“Miss?” I tapped her shoulder, and her eyes fluttered open. She looked shocked, yanking the headphones off her head and sitting straighter. In the brighter light of the airplane cabin, I noticed how blue her eyes were, almost as if she wore colored contacts to change their hue.

“Uh, yeah?” She smoothed her hair and blinked her eyes several times. I’d seen it before. Women found me attractive, and the minute they knew I was paying attention to them, suddenly, their appearance meant something. It made me smile.

“You dropped these.” I handed her the sunglasses and smiled, and she blushed, taking them from me. She had this exquisite beauty that needed no makeup or jewelry to shine. Just her in her natural state was enough, which is why I had been drawn to her in that airport bar.

“Thanks.”

I crouched next to her seat, holding onto the armrest for balance. “Vacationing alone?”

“Wait, you’re that guy from the bar.” She hugged her arms over her stomach and searched my expression.

“Yeah, I am. I’m sorry if I was a bit too forward in offering that drink. I was trying to be polite.” The way she’d run out had made me feel like I’d said something wrong, but after much thought, I decided that maybe she was just feeling pressured.

“Oh, no. Thank you, though. I just had too much earlier.” She relaxed a little, her eyes turning down toward her lap where she fiddled with the sunglasses. Her perfectly manicured nails spoke of a woman who cared about her appearance all the time, which stood in contrast with the outfit she wore. Whoever hurt her must have done a number on her self-confidence.

“Well, it looks like we’ll be on the island together. Maybe I can buy you that drink this week sometime?” I rose, deciding if I pushed her too much, I’d never get my shot to find out more about her.

She nodded, peering up at me. “Yeah, maybe. I’m just going to be spending a lot of time on my own.” She shrugged. “You know, sort of unwinding or whatever.”

“Well, I’ll be sure to look you up. Your name…?” I waited, expecting her to give me a fake name or brush me off entirely. If she really had broken up that recently, then maybe she just wasn’t ready.

“Vera Davids.” She sighed, and her face fell again.

“TheVera Davids?” I whistled through my teeth. I knew I had seen her face before—and most of her body, for that matter. “Sports Illustrated, June this year?”

She bit her lip and shrugged. “Yeah, but?—”

“Well,” I interrupted her, not wanting her to feel like I was going all fanboy over her, “it was very nice to meet you. I do hope we can catch up this week.”

She smiled and put her headphones on as I walked to the lavatory. It didn’t matter to me what she did for a living, but the fact that I’d stumbled upon a woman of her prominence by chance—a very available woman—made me feel energized. I locked myself in the lav and relieved myself, and while I was washing my hands, I stared at my reflection in the tiny mirror.

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