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  “Dancing lessons?”

  “Yes. Apparently we both told Madison that we enjoyed music so she’s set up an evening where we’re going to learn the traditional bomba style of Puerto Rican dance.”

  His brow crinkled. “I don’t know about that.” Although really, why not? What did he have to lose? Charlie Matthews was finally aroused and flourishing again. What would be better than dancing the night away with this amazing creature on their island paradise?

  “So how shall we spend a few hours until then?” she asked.

  Instead of answering, he showed her. With every fiber in his being.

  * * *

  As the sun moved through the afternoon, they laid with their limbs in a tangle after having brought each other to bliss once again. He wheeled the food cart into the bedroom and fed her a meaty grilled sandwich and juicy fruits. They lolled in a half daze for who knew how long, adjusting now and then to reach for a different part of each other. Something that he was certain he could happily do for an endless amount of time.

  Endless. His own words repeated over and over and over in his head. He thought of yesterday. Of visiting the fort and how seeing those kites in the sky had reminded him that he’d never be granted for a second time the conjugal peace and security that he had with Amelia. That had been a once-in-a-lifetime love, snatched from him along with the expression of that love, their baby girl, her sweet orange ringlet curls like those of her pretty mother’s.

  The kites at the fort were little demons in the sky, sent in a swarm to encircle and torment him lest he begin to have too much sincere companionship and enjoyment with this new woman, who had brought optimism back to a heart that had decided against it. Lest he feel slightly less alone and lonely. That was how his life had worked since Amelia and Lily died and he assumed it would always be that way. The gravity of the universe saw to it that Charlie stayed casting downward. And if, even for a second, his neck tilted backward so that his eyes could look ahead, forces knocked him to the ground. Showed him a sign.

  Wait a minute. A sign! Hadn’t he begged Amelia to send him a signal? Did the holy spirit, the ancient qi, the essence of his young wife that stayed tucked inside him, communicate as he’d begged her to? To let him know that she wished for him to be complete again, to inhale with all of the power in his lungs. To smile and laugh and stumble and share his days and nights with another woman. He’d directly asked Amelia if it was okay to love again.

  Was her vibration within him calling out to be heard? Had it actually been her handiwork that Charlie had taken this trip to Puerto Rico? Did Amelia put Luna in his path because she’d chosen her for him? And decided that they would visit that fort to make him see that there were still blue skies and August breezes to be had? And that, yes, she wanted him to find delight and fulfillment with someone new?

  CHAPTER NINE

  “SALUD!” CHARLIE TIPPED his rum glass to touch Luna’s and then they both sipped.

  “This is the amber?” With six glasses in front of them, each with a small pour of translucent liquid of varying hues, she wanted to make sure.

  “Yes, that one is considered to have a rich, full body.”

  Luna knew to only take small sips of the offering as she didn’t want to become sleepy. They still had plans to go dancing, which she was greatly looking forward to.

  He read aloud from the laminated card that had arrived with their tasting flight in the secluded high-backed booth at the dark bar. “There are eighty types of rum. And it’s Puerto Rico’s chief export. It’s been produced here since the fifteenth century as a by-product of the sugarcane industry.”

  “Its base is molasses, right?”

  “Yes, it’s then mixed with water and fermented.” As they talked, Charlie ran his finger under the thin strap of the red tank top Luna wore. Uncharacteristically for her, she was baring a lot of skin in the wisp of a covering that seemed right for working up a sweat on a hot summer night. Although he needed to behave himself with that delicate tug on the thin fabric’s strap, she mused, because his touch was so distracting she might forget about the dancing plan after all.

  “The darker varieties are aged in charred barrels. That’s why they have a stronger flavor.” He teased her by continuing to both lightly tap his fingers on her shoulder and read from the information card.

  “Let’s try the one called silver.”

  He picked up the glass of one of the clear tastes and brought it to her lips. She sipped and then he made sure to bring his mouth to the exact spot where hers had touched the glass to take his own sip, the move not lost on her. “That one is so much lighter. It would be nice in a mixed cocktail.”

  “Mmm,” he answered, but seemed more focused on running one finger up and over that strap of her top and into the crook of her neck, a sensation so exquisite it made her back arch.

  As suggested, she’d dressed traditionally for their bomba lesson later. The Dorada staff had provided her with a long skirt of many ruffles and a tremendous amount of volume, the type that would open to a full circle if laid on the ground. The outer fabric was white with beautifully applied red fabric flowers. And the underside of the skirt was a dense floral pattern of many colors. When she danced, she would lift them up with her hands, so the detail was important to both sides of the construction of the skirt. Included in her delivery to the villa was one perfect hibiscus, the national flower, along with hairpins for her to wear it behind one ear. Choosing her own red tank top to match, the outfit gave her a sexy, potent feel.

  Charlie wore his own white jeans and untucked white shirt, the color men typically dressed in for the dance. His eyes were like iridescent emeralds, and she tingled at the memories of his commanding mouth covering every inch of her during the lazy sensual afternoon they’d spent in bed.

  “Now the spiced rum.” She lifted a taste of another one.

  “Golden color with spices and caramel sometimes added.”

  “Yes, I taste that.” It was the flavor of him she was tasting, though. He pervaded all of her senses and she could only drink, hear and breathe him. Her thoughts shocked her. She’d assumed, accepted even, that a true and meaningful relationship wasn’t on her horizon, especially after years of being taken advantage of and basically used as a human ladder for other people’s ascension. She’d considered that weasel Troy Lutt the last time she’d even try. Maybe she could find some decent guys, not in the entertainment industry, to occasionally date. That would have to be enough.

  * * *

  When they got to the dance club, it was as lively and invigorating a scene as the mind could imagine. People were dancing both inside and outside on the patio, which gave way to a public plaza, and all the way around the fountain that anchored the cobblestone space. At the designated spot, they met up with the teacher, named Julia, and the small group of other students. Dressed in a purple-and-yellow dancing costume, Julia gave them a brief background on the cultural traditions. “Bomba is both the dance and the name of the musical instruments,” she said while pointing to a row of seated men, each with drums that they beat in steady rhythms. “It originates from the heritage of the African slaves who were brought here to work on the sugar plantations. It is not just a dance, it is a part of our culture.”

  Luna’s hips were already beginning to sway to the seductive percussion. She followed as Julia instructed the women to lift their skirts and to swish and sway them in aggressive expressions and with passion. She continued, “Tell a story with your skirts and your movements. The dancer leads the music rather than the other way around.”

  Charlie moved to the tempo, as well, although seemed unsure of what to do quite yet. He smiled watching Luna take to the dance and wave her skirt to and fro while shimmying her shoulders.

  “Senors,” Julia called out to the gentlemen, “you make strong, jerky and sudden movements that originate in your belly.” At first, Charlie followed the moves of
some of the experienced men in the crowd with a little inhibition, but then he started to move more assuredly. He gyrated, letting the dance emerge from him organically. The grind of his hips made Luna forget how to swallow air.

  Together, they abandoned themselves to the rhythm, to the plaza full of people, all engrossed in a near-spiritual experience as they danced and danced and danced. All grooving together, locals and tourists, young and old, faces of every creed and color, the drumbeats taking them higher and higher. People smiled at each other. Flirted. Watched the children with delight. There was one pronounced feeling that swept through the air so distinctly you could almost see it. Love.

  As the beats mesmerized their minds while their bodies moved with openness, it was a moment of profound connectedness to everything around her that Luna had never felt before. That reassured her she was finally mentally and physically on a healthy road after a dark year. The past hadn’t defeated her. In fact, she was mighty. Luna Price was back. Because of the bomba. Because of the skirt she wore that encouraged her to write her own narrative, and be nothing more or less than who she was. Because of the balmy winds of Puerto Rico, which she would never forget. But most of all because of this unforgettable man in white dancing in front of her. A man to whom she didn’t know how she was going to bid adios.

  * * *

  The next day, as Charlie reached down for Luna’s hand to help pull her up a steep incline, he thought about how Puerto Rico had seeped into his bloodstream. Today, deep into the misty El Yunque rain forest, the scent was so fresh he wished never to smell anything else. Countless species of plant life surrounded them and only the rustle of nature filled their ears. He pointed to a flock of birds. “Look at them.”

  Soaring, the winged creatures were the embodiment of liberty. He wished he could somehow join them, taking Luna along, of course. But the end was near, and they would not fly away together. Charlie was to return home tomorrow to England, to his artifact of a mansion. A changed man, just as was the plan, but the gains somehow seemed hollow in the face of having to part from Luna.

  * * *

  After a long hike in which they saw wildlife, including the famous coqui frogs, which were endemic to Puerto Rico, they visited the Yokahú observation tower, with its stunning views of the vast green mountains and the ocean.

  “It’s been an amazing week here, hasn’t it?” he said from the top of the tower, where they were standing, holding hands, taking it all in.

  “I can’t believe it’s coming to an end.”

  “What if we didn’t leave just yet?” he offered, slightly less than halfway serious. “Just because we agreed to a week with the M Dating Agency doesn’t mean we have to vacate. I’ll just book us in for another week.” He hardly recognized his own voice but the thought of letting Luna go tomorrow was too much to endure. Last night, when they had danced with reckless abandon among the crowd in Viejo San Juan, Charlie had been ready to pull up roots and buy them a villa here that they could call their own forever.

  “That’s a lovely thought,” Luna said with a squeeze to his hand. “In fact, you even suggesting it touches my heart.” He still didn’t know if he was talking realistically, but with her, he had come to start thinking out loud. “But I have to get back to LA. I really screwed up there. I have to make this film. Set wrongs to right.”

  Of course. Thank goodness she was the voice of reason. He was surprised he’d even had that idea. It had been crystal clear that he’d come to Puerto Rico only so that he could return to the living a little. Mission accomplished. The cobwebs had been dusted off. He was energized. But there was no point in prolonging the inevitable. His life wasn’t here. Or with Luna...despite what Amelia’s voice was telling him. This time, he might know better than her what he was, and wasn’t, capable of.

  Maybe life wasn’t in the stuffy manor of Buckinghamshire anymore, either. Maybe it was time to sell that stone reminder of death, that gigantic gravestone that he had been taking cover behind. Should he buy a deluxe flat in London with all the cutting-edge bells and whistles befitting a tech billionaire? Where he could bring home beautiful women at night that he’d usher straight out the door in the morning? One thing was certain. This week had changed him forever.

  He and Luna took lots of photos and selfies from the observation tower that he knew he’d look at and cherish for the rest of his life. Once back down to the ground, they were hot and sweaty, so they located one of the natural pools that El Yunque was known for. Prepared, with swimsuits under their clothes, they tossed their outer layers and jumped in. They swam to a waterfall, its rush producing a powerful roar. Charlie pulled Luna to him and wrapped first one, then the other, of her arms around his neck. His circled her waist.

  “Let’s come back some day.” He didn’t phrase it as a question.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes.”

  He brought his lips to hers and kissed her as the waterfall gushed down on them. His eyes closed—he was lost in the moment. Another freeze frame that he would have and hold until his dying day. Because he didn’t believe they would ever really return to the paradise of this week. That wasn’t what was meant to be.

  “Charlie. I have another idea,” she said after an urgent round of kisses. “What if you came to LA with me? I’ll be on set during the day but you could sightsee or work. We could be together in the evenings.”

  Go to California with her? “I can’t do that.”

  “I know. It was just a fleeting thought,” she said hastily and then took his face in her hands and kissed him again, although this time it felt a bit like goodbye.

  Much as he could envision spending every day with Luna, whether ordinary or eventful, that wasn’t their destiny. They both got what they’d come to Puerto Rico for. Now their kites were meant to fly off in different directions.

  * * *

  “Have you had breakfast?” Charlie asked as he entered the master suite, where Luna had all of her belongings and open suitcases laid out on the bed. Where last night they’d shared their bodies with each another one last time. There had been a different mood in the air, though. No longer was it a lair filled with sensuality and courage and exploration and candor. Last night the structure housed one long nonverbal farewell followed by a brief sleep. Everything that had been discovered, unleashed and enacted this week would be packed up in separate luggage and flown to separate destinations, never to comingle again.

  Luna had been holding the tears back in her eyes ever since they had woken up and Charlie excused himself to the living room, where the closet and armoire there had been his base camp, as was originally agreed upon, until the week had taken such an unlikely turn. And now the tide had reversed again, returning the universe to the configuration that was originally intended. Melancholy shaded Luna, darkening a morning that could have been cheerful in another circumstance.

  “No, did you wheel the cart in?” Luna answered his inquiry without looking up. She made busywork of folding her bathing suits into a neat pile. Her vocal cords wanted to sing out for the red swimsuit lost to the Caribbean during their first glorious joining, which now felt like a lifetime ago. Since then their bodies and souls had come together so many times that the state of being apart had become the more unnatural one. She’d been reflecting on how much she’d miss him when he’d merely gone into the other room to pack. She had no idea how she was going to weather being separated by continents.

  “Yes, it’s in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, I’ll get something in a minute.” Luna would need to grab a plate to munch from while she arranged her carry-on bag. She couldn’t possibly sit down opposite Charlie’s eyes and exchange pleasantries about their stay at the resort. In fact, she’d be lucky if she could bundle up the pieces of her heart that had already broken off before they shattered into a million grains and scattered onto the warm sand that grounded their villa. This week had meant more to her than she could ev
er put into language, and she had the sense that any more said was only going to make the inevitable moment even worse.

  With her back still to him as she wound the charging cords for her electronics into manageable spirals, she heard him begin talking. “Well, it’s official. I haven’t a thing to wear. I read we’ll be having a heat spell, even hotter than here, so you’ll need to take me shopping for desert-weight clothes.”

  The collection of words that came out of his mouth dispersed from each other and floated in space, trying to rearrange themselves into a comprehensible sentence. But Luna wasn’t able to grasp hold of them. She rotated her head around, although only slightly, as she didn’t feel strong enough to meet his handsome visage. “Sorry?”

  “I’ve got the beachwear my housekeeper bought me for this trip, and a couple of English woolen suits. I don’t think that’ll be quite right for the west coast, will it?”

  “Wha...at?” Again, Luna admonished herself not to draw any conclusions from the reference to the word west. Mustering courage from the tips of her toes, hoisting it up through her hips, chest and, finally, her head, she slowly turned all the way around.

  There was no way she could have known about the wide grin that had been waiting for her to pivot.

  “I may be a little slow on the uptake but I’m surely not a fool,” he said as he stepped toward her. “Which is what I’d be if I let you fly out of my life.”

  “You mean...”

  “Los Angeles, here we come.” He closed the distance between them. He kissed her forehead, her eyebrows, cheeks, lips and chin. The breath in her chest pumped through her so fast she thought she could hear it. Not having let in just how much it was destroying her to have to part with him, the reversal switched on an adrenaline release. She felt like jumping up and down.

  “What? You changed your mind? When did this happen?” she asked, throwing her arms around him with a force that bent him to the side. His chuckle against her face was delightful. “Last night, we fell asleep in each other’s arms, knowing it would be our final night together.”