Page 8 of Duty and Desire

Kai wagged a finger. “I’m telling you, there’s a mystery to be solved. You wait and see.”

“So what do you propose I do about it? Stalk him?”

He cackled. “Nah. Keep an eye out for him, though. Do that for a couple of days, and I guarantee the ideas will startflowing.”

I wasnotabout to follow a guy all over the island.

Kai had succeeded in piquing my interest, however.

That was a good start.

Chapter Three

April 5

Gio

My dad once asked me if I’d ever experienced a certain phenomenon, as he called it, something he couldn’t explain that happened a lot.

“There was this one time I was looking to change my car. I decided on a particular model, not one I’d seen around often, and certainly not one that appeared in any great numbers in the usual car sales sites. But here’s the weird thing. Once I’d made up my mind to buy this model?” He grinned. “I saw themeverywhere. It was as if some unknown force smiled and said, ‘Here,thisis what you’re looking for.’ And it happened over and over again.”

I could relate to that. Ever since Kai had planted the seed in my head of using this Nick guy as a character?

I saw him everywhere.

Okay, this is where I share the fact that Bora-Bora isn’t that big an island. Maybe fifteen square miles. Hell, it’s five miles from north to south, and only three from east to west, so the likelihood of runninginto familiar faces was pretty high. But there are approximately ten thousand people spread over three main villages.

So why did I keep seeing Nick everywhere I went?

The day after his visit to Kai’s bar, I drove the buggy down to the south of the island, to Matira Beach, a beautiful stretch of soft sand lined with palm trees. I’d read about the beach during my research, and it was every bit as gorgeous as the photos proclaimed it to be. People snorkeled in the clear emerald waters and boats were moored out in the lagoon, sun worshippers lying on decks or guys sitting with caps shading their eyes as they relaxed, fishing rods in their hands.

And on the beach, there was Nick, sitting under a palm tree, a sketch pad propped against his knees, and a box of pencils beside him, his gaze focused on the boats.

I was dying to wander over and take a peek, but that would’ve been weird as hell. He didn’t know me. He’d probably never even registered me in the bar. And if he spotted me, he’d wonder who the strange guy was who was stalking him.

Later that afternoon, after I’d eaten my lunch, I spotted him again. This time he was driving a boat, and from the look of it, he was giving lessons in kitesurfing.

Maybe I should take up a sport while I’m here. More fuel for the writer brain, right?

The following day, I drove around the southern point to the Tiare Market, another store Aulani had told me to check out.

Nick was in there buying groceries, seemingly lost in thought as he picked produce.

For the life of me, I couldn’t see why choosing fruit would shove someone into such a contemplative state.

Later the same day I visited the Ukulele Bar, and there he was again, sitting alone under one of the parasols, a glass in front of him, staring out at the blue-green water.

I was close enough to see his face, and what struck me was his expression. The same thoughtful look I’d witnessed at the store, as though his mind was someplace else.

But where? And what does he see when he gazes out there?

When I woke up one morning and discovered it was already April fifth, I felt as though all I’d done was waste time. Thus far, I hadn’t ventured inland, but a sign caught my eye as I drove through Anau on the eastern side of the island. It was a board advertising trips to Mount Otemanu to climb the peak, visit a cave… Tourist stuff, but I’d done little of that. I stopped the buggy to check out the details pasted to the store window. But when I peered at the guy behind the counter, talking with a couple of tourists in loud shirts, I stiffened.

Man, he reallyiseverywhere.

For the first time since my arrival, I had the urge to scribble in my notebook.

The one I’d left on the table back at the bungalow.

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