Page 18 of That Birthday in Barbados
Something flutters in my stomach, and I let myself visualize his face and that incredible body of his. How long since I felt attracted to a man? No one man since Connor. Not one in three years.
When Connor and I weremarried, I had noticed men. I’m not a complete prude. But it was never something I acted on. Notice and move on. Married didn’t mean dead. But it did mean committed. To me, it had anyway.
My thoughts skitter back to Anders. You’d have to be dead not to notice him. Six-three would be my guess. Dark brown hair, short on the sides, longer on top. Wavy. Blue eyes, thick lashes, a dark slash of eyebrows. Sun-kissed skin. And those arms. Wide shoulders. Defined biceps.
And how old is he? Late twenties? I blink once, breaking my trance. Is forty too old to fantasize? Maybe not. But that doesn’t make it pointless. Which it is.
I finish my juice, pour some coffee from the silver French press intomy cup and pull out the novel I’d stowed in my bag earlier. I haven’t read a book in ages, and I make a resolution to restore in my life some of the things I’d once loved to do. I’d started this morning with a good workout. Next on the list, reading.
I run my fingers across the cover of the hardback novel. I’ve spent the past three years mourning a life that is gone. For good. Never going to come back. For the first time in a long, long time, I wonder what might lie ahead for me. What ifI’m not destined to spend the rest of my years alone, working like someone who has nothing else to define her?
A man like Anders Walker surely has a waiting list for lovers, all fifteen years younger than me.
I’d never dream of trying to throw my hat in that ring, but maybe he’s been put in my path to remind meI can feel things I never thought I’d feel again. That’s a present in and of itself.
I take a sip of my coffee, letting my gaze settle on the peaceful setting before me once more.
Happy birthday to me.
Chapter Eight
“Sometimes, the simple things are more funand meaningful than all the banquets in the world …”
?E.A. Bucchianeri
Catherine
ONCE I’VE FINISHED breakfast, I head for the room to put on my bathing suit and pack a bag for the beach. I jump in the shower, run a razor over my legs and under my arms, towel off and slather on sunscreen.
I open the drawer in which I’d stored my bathing suits. One piece or two? Admittedly, I’m not feeling like the bikini should be an option, but I’d like to get a tan with as few lines as possible, and besides, I don’t knowanyone here, other than Madeline. I don’t think she’ll care whether I’m looking bikini-ready or not.
And so I settle on a lime green one, thinking I’ll look a lot better in it once I have a little sun. Right now, it’s giving me a New York winter milky glow.
Sighing, I grab my book, stow a bottle of water and extra sunscreen in the hotel’s complimentary canvas bag and head out of the room. I take the stairs to the main floor and follow the hallway to the beach entrance. As soon as I open the door and step out into the warm air, I’m again assaulted by the beauty of this place. Birds are still chirping and tweeting as if they live in paradise, which, of course, they do.
Ahead of me, people are already set up for the day in pink chairs, an ice bucket with Evian on small tables in between. The blue-green water pulls at me like a magnet.
When I reach the white sand edge, a beach attendant greets me with a welcoming smile. “I’m Thomas. First day on the beach?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. “May I get a chair?”
“Certainly,you may. Your room number?”
I give it to him, and he checks a paper on his clipboard. “Ms.Camilleri?”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“Excellent. The way this works is once I get you set up, that’ll be your chair for the duration of your vacation. You can come back to the same spot each day, and I’ll have it all ready for you. Any preference on location, and I’ll see what I can do?”
“The front row would be nice, and I’d love an umbrella when I’m ready to opt out of the sun.”
“Of course.Are you expecting anyone else?”
“No. Just me.”
“In that case, I’ve got a spot in the middle, right up front. That sound good?”
“Perfect,” I say.
