Harlequin Romance September 2021 Box Set Page 4

  She headed toward that extravagant master suite, where she’d be sleeping alone. Was she secretly wishing this was, in fact, a romantic rendezvous to be spent with the perfect match with whom she would fall in love? If she was, she’d better get that idea out of her head right away, because that was definitely not on either of their itineraries. Still, as she moved it felt like a slow march toward emptiness. Her rational side told her it wouldn’t feel that way once she got used to him. This was a beautiful paradise where she could breathe and just be with a man, and not worry about what he thought of her. She’d never see him again after this. That was the point. She needed to appreciate it as such. “Good night, Charlie,” she said as she began to round the corner.

  “Luna,” he called before she was gone.

  “Yes.” She turned around to face him.

  “I’m not divorced. I’m a widower. Ten years ago, my wife and baby daughter died.”

  The breath in her throat stilled. “Oh, my gosh. What an unimaginable tragedy.” Her heart cracked for him. Before she knew it, she started to move back into the room.

  But he dismissed her instantly. “Good night.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “THERE’S COFFEE,” CHARLIE announced when Luna emerged from the bedroom in the morning. He was perched on a stool at the granite-topped island in the kitchen with his tablet open to company business. Luna’s tan bare legs caught his eye. They were long and graceful, and she moved barefoot across the floor like a gazelle.

  “What is this?” She pointed to a black thermos and stone mugs sitting on a wicker tray.

  “Café con leche Dorada. That was the server’s description when he delivered it.”

  “Have you been up long?”

  Charlie would have laughed at that question if the answer wasn’t so pathetic. Of course, he’d been up long—he’d barely slept a wink. Which was no reflection on the comfort of the sumptuous sofas or the villa’s open walls that brought a pleasant coolness in the wee hours. No, it was that he hadn’t slept in a decade, not really. Oh, he dozed and sleep did overtake his always ticking mind on occasion. But he never slumbered heavily, never woke feeling refreshed and certainly never experienced the optimistic sentiment that a new dawn had arrived. That was his lot—to be wide-awake. On guard. After his world changed forever on that snowy winter night so long ago.

  “Yes. I called for breakfast and told the kitchen that unless we notified them further, they may choose our menus so that they include selections of traditional cuisine. I hope that’s acceptable to you, otherwise we can certainly change it.”

  “No, that’s great. My only request is that I eat at set meal times and have snacks available when I need them.”

  That struck Charlie as surprisingly rigid for an island holiday. He supposed that actresses both worried about their weight and were used to fitting in meals during film shoots. She was smart to have a routine. While Luna was very thin, he knew there was that old adage that the camera added weight. After she’d explained the glamour-factory standards she was held to, Charlie could hardly conceive of so many eyes on his appearance. Tom was the only one who had ever said anything to him about his, and that was just to suggest that Charlie dress down from the full suit and tie every time he went out. Which was why this morning he had chosen shorts and a loose linen shirt. He couldn’t tell if the grey jersey T-shirt and shorts Luna wore were pajamas or morning loungewear. He did notice that she was not wearing a bra. A little twitch in his gut responded to that observation.

  “There’s fruit, eggs and mallorca, which are Puerto Rican sweet bread rolls. I can attest to their deliciousness.”

  She poured coffee and sipped from one of the mugs. “Oh, wow, I could get quite used to this.”

  Charlie’s eyes widened. He knew Luna was only referring to the unusual coffee, which was rich, just a bit sweet and frothy with steamed milk. But somehow, her words brought a special meaning to his mind and got him thinking about what it might be like to get quite used to greeting someone in the morning. It might make sleepless nights more bearable, knowing there was someone to rise with once morning arrived.

  “Would you like to snorkel today?” He was ready to make a plan. That would give him less time to mull over what his life wasn’t. He was here with Luna to relax and recharge, and that was it. They might as well try to have a pleasant time.

  “Sounds good,” she answered in between bites from the plate she’d served herself.

  Charlie had already downloaded the app that they’d use this week to his devices. With a couple of taps, he booked a boat to take them to a snorkeling spot. After changing into swimsuits and cover-ups, they slid into the golf cart and he drove them to the dock. A small private boat, preloaded with equipment plus some other provisions like towels, snacks and cold drinks on ice, awaited them. The captain helped Luna onto the deck of the pristine white boat, Charlie following right behind. They took seats on a comfortable bench covered in turquoise-colored leather.

  The sky was bright and the water shimmering. Once the boat had reached a steady pace Luna looked pointedly into his eyes and asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Last night. When you said good-night. You told me about your wife and child. I didn’t get a chance to fully express my sympathies.”

  He couldn’t maintain eye contact so his gaze drifted to the waves that the boat cut through. His late wife, Amelia, would like this, to see that he was out on the open water, in the sunny air, rather than cooped up in his mansion with the curtains drawn, head burrowed in work under artificial lighting. He forced—indeed, forced—himself to glance back to Luna, whose eyes he could feel on him.

  “Thank you.”

  “Does that have something to do with why you’re a client of M?”

  “According to my trusted team, I’ve grieved for too long. Apparently I’ve become lost in my hermit lifestyle, and our investors and stockholders are nervous about the future of the company.”

  “Is the future of the company what’s important to you?”

  “Why wouldn’t it be?” he barked.

  “Sorry,” she said, recoiling. “I didn’t mean anything by that. Only that you lost your family. Some people might let their business fall to the wayside after something like that.”

  “AMgen has always been a promise I made to my wife,” he retorted.

  “I’m being too nosy.”

  “Shall we just talk about the weather?” he chortled to himself. He knew that Tom was right—it was time for him to either resurrect himself or truly be put in a grave beside his long-gone wife and baby. “Ten years were more than enough to spend in mourning.”

  “I can’t imagine how you’ve functioned after the accident. I think I’d fold up into myself.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve done. Yet somehow I grew the company from my cemetery of a mansion, where I concentrated on my work day and night, and nothing else. I told Amelia I’d see my vision through. It’s only that vow to her that has kept me going.”

  “I’m sure she’d be very proud of you.”

  He cocked his head. Proud. Yes, she probably would be. He owed his accomplishments to her. She inspired him. When they’d married at nineteen, he promised he’d give her a life filled with security and joy. And, indeed, that’s what they’d had. Until fate stole it away from them.

  Was it actually possible for him to start relating to people more? Maybe build something, someday, with a new woman? Nothing serious, but someone to help him see light where there was only darkness. Last night, or maybe it had already been morning, long after he’d heard any sounds coming from the bedroom suite, he had been lying on the sofa, staring at the ceiling. And he’d thought about what he’d said to Luna and what she’d shared with him. About the pressure of the public eye. About the never-ending scrutiny. Of course, she had a blessed life to have reached
that level of success, but he could tell she was fighting her own inner battles. That made Charlie feel less alone. For the first time in ten years. It was somehow both a comfort and a shock to be with her.

  The boat stopped once it reached the coral reef that was a renowned snorkeling spot. “I’m excited,” she said as the captain came on deck to fit them with the masks, snorkels and fins they’d need. Once suited up, they lowered themselves into the water. As they submerged to see what worlds thrived under the sea, Charlie acknowledged that he hadn’t done anything like this in an eternity. Couldn’t he allow a little bit of adventure back into his life?

  * * *

  Under the water with an English tech billionaire. Luna could hardly believe the dichotomies in her life. Here she was after a year spent at her parents’ ranch in Kentucky, with her daily therapy and coaching appointments, and Anush staying there with her for moral support. Soon she’d be returning to her life in Los Angeles, where her fame and fortune rested on the box-office count of her next movie release or latest magazine cover. And at the moment she was submerged in the Caribbean with this somber widower, who was as troubled as she was.

  The undersea life surrounding them was magical. Brightly colored fish swam in schools, sometimes just a few in a group, yet other times what looked like hundreds of babies. Turtles waded by the alive reefs. It was wonderful to ponder their existence, which was far different from the lives of humans. This was good for her soul, Luna concluded.

  Every so often, she and Charlie would turn to each other as if to comment on what they were seeing. His swath of dark hair swooshed as he swam. She couldn’t help admiring the way the angular muscles of his back flexed as he moved through the water. He reached to pull her toward a display of boldly hued parrotfish. Holding hands with him under the water and watching the awe-inspiring show in front of them was a poignant experience she wouldn’t soon forget.

  “That was fantastic,” she exclaimed when they popped their heads above water and removed their equipment.

  “Incredible.” He nodded. With the captain’s help they returned to the boat deck. As they dried themselves with towels, the captain put out a spread of cold water and snacks. Luna whisked on her cover-up. Charlie slung a towel low around his hips and remained shirtless, the water droplets glinting on his golden skin, reminding Luna that she hadn’t been physical with a man in ages. The recovery program she’d been going through demanded that she focus only on herself. But the dearth had been easy because she could no longer stand the type of men she’d been dating. Men she was sure would have little interest in her if she hadn’t been a celebrity. Troy Lutt being the latest of that ilk. Most everyone in Luna’s life was around to try to capitalize on what association with her would bring. Troy had taken that to a new low.

  She most definitively wasn’t planning to bring a man into her life. Though it was impossible for her to divert her mind from imagining touching Charlie’s smooth-looking skin, and running her hands down the physique she’d watched so deftly glide through the water. She bit back a giggle at her private little thoughts, so opposite to her declared intention for the week. It was a sneaky yet harmless bit of amusement, though.

  Once she and Charlie sat down on the boat’s bench again, they both stretched out their arms and basked in the glow of the sun. After they were quiet for a bit, Luna couldn’t help returning to the conversation they’d started earlier. Like he’d said, how much could they talk about the weather? Curiosity toward one another was natural. “Explain to me, what is your exact purpose for this week with the M Dating Agency?”

  “Tom advised that I’ve become intolerable. Apparently a CEO who works night and day but rarely sees his staff in person, doesn’t remarry or at least date, who attends shareholder dinners and meetings via video, is problematic.”

  “I suppose that makes sense. They want to know you’re flesh and blood, and not a myth.” For her, it was the other way around.

  “Ghost is more like it.”

  He said that so matter-of-factly Luna winced. His loss was unfathomably sad. “That you’ve accomplished all you have is a testament to your devotion.”

  After he seemed to stifle the thoughts Luna wished he’d have voiced, he continued, “I agreed with Tom that I’d start leaving the house more.”

  “Which, naturally, begins with a week in the company of a stranger in a mysterious destination not of your choosing?”

  He let out a belly laugh so robust it drowned out the sound of the boat’s motor. It was a laugh that she hoped to hear from him again this week, selfishly, because she adored the sound of it. “In a roundabout way, yes. Since I met you yesterday, these are certainly the most words I’ve said to another human in probably a year’s time. I need to work on my social skills.”

  “Ironic that the man who needs to talk more was paired with a woman who gets paid to speak.”

  “Yes. I’ve been wondering how Madison goes about making her matches.”

  They each opened a bottle of ice cold water and sipped. He was here to gear up to move forward. So was she, but forward to what? It was more like returning to something. To LA. To that life that had almost dragged her down to the bottom of the ocean, where she didn’t think she’d ever breathe oxygen or see daylight again. Thank goodness she had gotten help in time.

  The strangeness of this trip took hold of her, made her tense up. What on earth was she doing here with a man she’d just met? Was she ready? Yet maybe there was safety in this situation. Maybe she was to have this short interlude with Charlie, and then they’d go their separate ways, continents apart, and never encounter each other again.

  She was so attracted to him. It was a giddy and alien sensation. She could imagine leaning over and kissing his full pale lips. Tucking herself into that outstretched arm and feeling the strength of his embrace. Further still, she envisioned sharing that sprawling bed at the villa with him, where they could be naked in the truest sense of the word, unbridled, uncensored, unselfconscious.

  Charlie finally interrupted the silence. “What is it that you’re here trying to get over?”

  Even though she wanted to tell him everything, she chose to tell him nothing.

  * * *

  After the day on the water, Charlie and Luna returned to their villa and showered. They reconvened on the front patio, where cushy lounge chairs beckoned them to relax and watch the setting sun from their private beach.

  “Chef Diego inquired whether we want him to bring dinner or if we’d enjoy cooking with him,” Charlie said, reporting the message he’d received.

  “That sounds nice, actually.” She raked her fingers through her still-wet hair. The golden locks tumbled down from her scalp with bends and swirls. For the first time, it occurred to him why hair was described as wavy. Luna’s mimicked the motion of the waves, which struck him as amazing. She looked so lovely stretched out on the lounger, with the long legs and pointed toes of a dancer. There was something profound about her organic beauty, a testament to the heavens. Charlie hadn’t paid much attention to the attractiveness, or lack thereof, of the women around him. Because, frankly, there hadn’t been many. An occasional AMgen employee who’d catch his eye, or someone from the mansion staff. But, overall, he’d been deadened to the charms of the female gender. He feared Luna had awoken a sleeping titan.

  “Do you cook?” he asked, to get his mind off those shapely legs, which were on display given the short dress she’d put on.

  “No.”

  “Never?”

  “My mom has been cooking for me in Kentucky. In Los Angeles, I use a food delivery service. Three meals and two snacks arrive daily, all very organized.”

  “We mere mortals sometimes hear stories about the catering services on film sets overflowing with food and drinks all day and night during shoots.”

  “Oh, that’s real. And the endless discussion and gossip about who ate what and how much.
It’s a badge of honor. The less you eat.”

  “The less you eat. There was a time in history when the more you ate was the status symbol.”

  “It’s ridiculous. The press reporting on someone looking relaxed or robust or having a new style—all just thinly veiled code meaning they’ve gained weight.”

  “It must take special skills to have everyone’s eyes on you all of the time.”

  “It messes with your mind. It did with mine, anyway.”

  “What an enormous amount of strain that must be.”

  “Senor and senorita, how was your day?” Chef Diego arrived in a golf cart and parked it next to the one Charlie had been driving. “Did you see many beautiful fish today?”

  “It was spectacular, thank you,” Luna replied with a smile as she swung her silky legs over the side of the lounger and rose. Charlie stood, as well. They watched as the chef unloaded his wheeled cart with the provisions he’d brought. They entered the villa, and Charlie was still surprised that he was staying in a structure without exterior walls. He’d felt no need to activate the glass enclosures, as the climate was delightful and, obviously, in their gated, private piece of paradise they didn’t need to worry about intruders.

  The three convened in the gourmet kitchen. “With your permission, tonight may I prepare for you Puerto Rico’s official cocktail, the piña colada?”

  Charlie and Luna looked at each other, her blue eyes twinkling. “Please,” he answered.

  They watched as the chef loaded pineapple juice, chunks of fresh pineapple, coconut cream, both dark and light rum and ice into a blender. “My personal touch,” he explained as he squeezed in some lime. After whirling it into a thick, frosty emulsion, he poured it into shapely tall glasses, then garnished each with a triangle of pineapple and served them. “Con gusto.”

  “Deliciosa. The sweet and the cold are so good together,” Luna exclaimed. “It’s a vacation in a glass.” Her tongue flicked the top of her lip to grab a drop, the movement not lost on Charlie. He stunned himself with his next thought. What it might be like to perform that lip-licking duty himself. And maybe to put a bit of the icy drink onto Luna’s no-doubt warm skin, perhaps behind her ear and drink it off as it melted. Was he going crazy? He never, ever, had thoughts like that. What was Puerto Rico doing to him?