Page 2 of Duty and Desire

His flush deepened. “Fine. I was in LA. I thought I’d fly up here to make sure you were still breathing.” He returned my forthright stare. “Because I hadn’t heard from you for six months. And no, I don’t count a birthday text as a meaningful interaction.”

“And here? What brought you to this particular spot?” I wasn’t going to let him off the hook right away.

“A hunch. I remembered you liked writing here. I guess I was counting on old habits dying hard.” He took a sip from his paper cup. “So do me the courtesy of not feeding me any bullshit, and tell me what’s going on.” He grimaced. “I’m feeling guilty as hell, by the way. I should’ve been in touch long before this, but life got in the way.Doesn’t it always?” He cocked his head. “When did you last put a book out?”

I winced. “I forgot, you always go for the jugular.”

Roger shrugged. “You’re an author. It’s a fair question.” He fell silent, his watchful gaze focused on my face.

I couldn’t tell him everything. That would take up the rest of the day. But I could offer up a few crumbs in the hope of satisfying him.

“Look, right now, I’m going through what you might call a period of… creative stagnation. Simply put, I’ve run out of ideas. I feel like I have nothing to offer.” It was the most simplistic explanation I could come up with, and it didn’t even scratch the surface of what was really taking place in the depths of my tortured soul.

Inwardly, I smiled bitterly.Hey, that’s good. I should’ve been a writer.

I drew air into my lungs. “What used to feel like an exhilarating exploration of my imagination? Now feels like a chore.”

Roger studied me, and thank God, I didn’t see an ounce of pity in his expression. Finally, he nodded. “So that’s why you’re sitting in a coffee shop? Awaiting inspiration?”

“Hey, it’s warmer in here than it is out there,” I remonstrated.

Roger’s eyes gleamed. “So how about instead of shivering in sixty degrees, with the fog rolling in and making everything damp as hell, you could sit in eighty degrees, staring out at crystal-clear waters, blue sky that stretches as far as the eye can see, the sound of waves lapping all around you?” Another tilt of his head. “Think inspiration might strike you in those kind of conditions?”

I laughed. “And where do you think I’d find those conditions?”

He didn’t pause to take a breath. “Bora-Bora. In the South Pacific. French Polynesia.”

I rolled my eyes. “I did geography in high school too, you know. Why there, specifically?”

He clasped his hands. “I recently bought a property out there. One of those overwater bungalows you see on the travel ads, you know, on stilts? I’ve spent a lot of time on the island these past fewyears. It’s become my second home. This latest purchase is primarily an investment, for the rental market. I’ve just spent three months paying for it to be upgraded. The work has almost finished.” He smiled. “It’s yours for four months. Let’s say from now until the end of July.”

It took more than a few seconds for his offer to register.

“Roger, it’s a great idea but I can’t afford that.” Hell, the way things were going, I probably couldn’t afford to stay in San Francisco. Rents, prices, utilities… they were all rising, and my income was flowing in the opposite direction.

He chuckled. “Did I mention anything about money changing hands? No, I did not. I haven’t put it on any of the usual websites yet. So let me repeat. It’s yours. I’ll even pay for your flight to Tahiti, and then the flight to Bora-Bora, and once you get there, I’ll arrange for a boat to take you to the bungalow.” He smiled. “Actually, it’s my motorboat, and you’d have the use of it for the duration of your stay. April is the end of the rainy season, so you might get a few violent storms, and the humidity could reach as high as ninety percent, but you’d have three decent months.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.” I was light-headed, my mental numbness giving way to an escalating sensation of… gratitude? Definitely that, but also relief—and hope.

Pragmatism struggled to reassert itself, however.

“I can’t let you do all that. You’d be losing out on four months of income.”

Roger sighed. “That’s not how I see it.” He paused, his face tightening. “You were there for me in college. Remember?”

I’d never forget. He’d been through hell, and I’d been at his side every step of the way. In fact, I was the one who’d made sure he came out the other side.

He nodded. “This is payback, Gio. I always promised myself I’d return the favor, I was just never sure how.” A spasm of pain flickered across his eyes. “I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for you. So let me do this. Four months is a drop in the ocean of what I owe you.” Hesmiled, his brow smoothing out. “Think of it as a reset. Sunshine, glorious beaches, a chance to get your writer brain back online…” He stared at me. “Say yes? Please? I want to do this for you.” His earnest expression morphed into a grin. “And if it works out, you can dedicate your next book to me.”

I couldn’t fight him, not when every cell in my body was screaming at me to accept his generous offer.

“Thank you.” I bit my lip. “This bungalow… what’s it like?”

His grin widened. “Trust me. You are going to love it.” His gaze intensified. “Is there anyone here who’ll be pining for you? Someone you hate to leave behind?”

I couldn’t rein in my snort. “If that’s your not-so-subtle way of asking if I’m in a relationship, then you can relax. I’m still single. I don’t do dating, remember?”

“But that’s been your choice, right? I mean, I’m sure you’ve had guys interested in you.”

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