A bead of sweat was slowly making its way down Anna’s back. Twisting just enough to encourage it on its way, she flopped back onto the beach towel again. The large thatched umbrella was annoyingly ineffective against the relentless heat of the sun, and the moisture on her upper lip tasted not only of perspiration, but the brininess of the Indian ocean. For a brief moment she thought about putting on her snorkel and flippers and going back in to cool off. But that would require energy she didn’t have. Even peeling the damp strands of caramel blonde hair from her neck took an effort.
She couldn’t relax. The very air was stifling, and the sound of waves tumbling onto the shoreline just metres away intrusive. Even more distracting was the couple splashing about in the shallows. Every now and then they would stop to hold each other and kiss. Anna didn’t need to open her eyes to know that. She could tell what they were doing by the low murmurs and sighs of delight. They were obviously in love. Maybe on their honeymoon. The place was, after all, an adults-only luxury resort.
She dug her painted toes into the white-hot sand, searching for the cooler level below.
Perhaps it was time to go back to her villa. Have a shower, or better still, order a mango and tangerine margarita and relax with the book she had brought with her. The blurb on the back sounded promising.
Another bead of sweat began its journey. She ignored it until it rolled over a nerve ending, forcing her to reach behind and wipe it away.
It was simply far too hot. Retrieving her Cutler and Gross sunglasses from her beach bag, she sat up and gazed out across the ocean. The colour was as brilliant a turquoise as the media release had promised. In fact, the whole resort was the perfect getaway.
Glancing to her right, she studied the overwater villas. They were beautiful timber residences with wrap-around decks; guests could dive straight in to the warm waters of the lagoon. Behind her, should she care to look over her shoulder, were lush tropical gardens hiding beachfront villas with private pools and Jacuzzis.
Hers was one of the latter. Anna preferred exotic blooms and scents to the vast emptiness of the ocean. Especially at night.
She reached for her sarong.
Her plans for the afternoon included nothing more arduous than a few hours in the cool tranquility of the resort’s spa. Perhaps tomorrow she would find the energy to go into town. Do a little sightseeing.
It wasn’t as if she had anyone to please other than herself.
That evening Anna dressed in flowing aubergine harem pants and a matching silk top. The wide neckline set off her bronzed shoulders perfectly, and after catching up her hair with combs, she added earrings and three or four wooden bracelets. Then she tied a silk ethnic-inspired scarf around her waist.
The restaurant jutted out over the ocean. Shown to one of the more sought-after tables, she ordered a glass of Champagne and browsed the fine-dining menu. Every now and then, the shadowy rays and baby sharks swimming in the ocean below her caught her attention, leading her to wonder if it were possible to remain in such a paradise forever.
Reason told her that even paradise would pall after a while.
She nibbled at her seared ahi tuna and soba noodle salad and sipped her Champagne. It wasn’t that there was anything wrong with the food. Quite the reverse. It was delicious. It was just that with no other demand on her time there was no need to hurry.
A few tables away, another guest was also dining alone. He was no more than five or six years older than herself, and his linen trousers and rumpled jacket suggested he was no stranger to hot climates. Aware she needed to focus all her energy on her new business, she had resolved to avoid any romantic encounters—at least for the next year or so—but even so, her curiosity was piqued. Especially since he was not unattractive.
She glanced over at the solitary diner again. Unfortunately he had chosen the same moment to look her way, and their eyes met. The silent exchange was over in seconds, but his expression said it all. She was obviously alone. Was she available? And if so, what would it take to get her into his bed?
Any interest she might have had vanished.
Later, declining dessert in favour of a nightcap, she moved into the bar. It was a place of lazily oscillating ceiling fans, dark tropical woods, and rattan seating. The plush, cushioned upholstery was as vivid and colourful as the plumage of an exotic bird. With the exception of a table of semi-inebriated guests who seemed to be discussing plans for the following day, the place was deserted. It had been the same the night before, which was surprising, it being Christmas Day. She was a little put out when her fellow diner made himself comfortable at the table adjacent to hers and raised a confident finger to the barman.
“Cognac, I think. Martell. The Cordon Bleu.”
He turned, and almost as an afterthought, offered that he hoped he wasn’t intruding.
“Not at all.” She would be polite but nothing more.
“Then would it be too forward of me to offer you a drink?” He looked pointedly at her tiny coffee cup and almost empty liqueur glass. “Let me guess.” He tilted his head somewhat theatrically. “Grand Marnier?”
She had no intention of being rude, but really?
“Another time, perhaps.”
“Fair enough.” Although his voice was level, his dark brown eyes were sparkling, as if amused.
“Have you been diving yet?” He was obviously determined to engage her in conversation. “I take it you do dive?”
“Actually, I don’t.”
“Really? You should learn.”
“I’m sure I should.”
“So what do you do to pass the time here?” He nodded his thanks to the barman, who had placed a coaster and large brandy snifter in front of him.
“I read, and other than that I’m enjoying the solitude.” She reached for the remnants of her own drink. Surely he would take a hint.
This time he was nodding enthusiastically. “I can go with that. What are you reading at the moment?”
“Nothing worth sharing.”
“That bad, huh.”
She nearly choked.
Ignoring her discomfort, he continued happily, “Always a letdown when something has been hyped up by the media and ends up doing nothing for you. Same with a movie.”
He cupped his glass, and after twirling the liquid around, breathed in the aroma.
There was a moment of silence, and from the corner of her eye she couldn’t help noticing the blond hair curling rebelliously onto his collar. Given the healthy glow of his complexion, she wondered what he did for a living. Something freelance, she thought. He was far too self-assured to work in a more regulated environment.
Placing the snifter down, he made an appreciative murmur. The cognac had obviously hit the spot.
“Are you a regular here?” he asked.
“No. First time.”
“Mmm. Me too. Having said that, I will definitely make the effort to come back. If nothing else, the diving is a big draw.”
In spite of herself, she smiled. When snorkeling earlier, she too had been amazed and delighted at the variety and colour of marine life, but she sensed he would rate splashing about in the shallows as inconsequential compared to the adrenaline rush found in deeper waters.
“Well, that’s me for the night.” He swallowed the remainder of the amber-coloured liquor. “Early start in the morning. Perhaps I might see you again tomorrow evening.”
It was almost a dismissal. As if he had finally decided she simply wasn’t worth the effort.
“Maybe.”
She could be just as offhand.
The following day, hoping the town had reopened after the holiday, Anna went in search of a little retail therapy. She couldn’t laze around every day, and if nothing else were available, a little sightseeing might offer some much-needed stimulation. She had been advised by the resort’s receptionist of some must-see attractions, and while she had been unable to enter the seventeenth-century mosque with its golden dome, there were thankfully no such restrictions at the island’s museum.
By early afternoon, she was back at the resort. With the sun at its highest, she needed to cool off, and after all, wasn’t that why she’d elected to go with the luxury of a private pool?
Kicking off her sweat-damp underwear, she poured a glass of chilled fruit juice and walked naked onto her deck. She ignored the scuttling of lizards looking to hide in darkened corners, appreciating that they were feeling the effects of the heat as much as she was. Then, setting the juice on the tiled surround, she lowered herself into the water.
Holding her breath, Anna sank down. Her overheated body cooled immediately. Breaking the surface moments later, she tilted her head back and ran her fingers through her hair.
It took only a few strokes to complete the distance from one side of the pool to the other, but it was enough for her purposes. After a few desultory laps she rolled over to float on her back. The water, churned by her efforts, eased to a soothing rocking motion.
Closing her eyes against the brilliance of the afternoon sun, she wondered whether Jake ever thought about her. It had been almost two years, so probably not. The resort would not be his type of place. He was more a get-up-and-go person. Give him a goat track and a jeep, and you wouldn’t see him for dust. Literally. She kicked out and completed another lap or two. Then floated again.
Adam, on the other hand, would be right at home. Not that he wasn’t adventurous in his own way. But like her, he had an appreciation of the good things in life. Right now he would be in Paris. City of Lovers. She doubted he’d be alone, though, and experienced a fleeting moment of regret. Strange how they could be so alike and yet remain poles apart. Would he ever want to settle down, or as she had once suggested to him, was his problem one of commitment-phobia?
She reached onto the deck for her juice and took a long, refreshing swallow. Both men had moved on. Now it was her turn.
It was early when she walked into the bar that evening. Cocktail hour. Her acquaintance of the previous evening was already seated in an armchair overlooking the lagoon.
The woman he was with could only be described as gorgeous. Raven black curls fell in deliberate disarray, while her dress—an expensive white strapless affair—was merely the backdrop for the numerous strands of irregularly shaped semi-precious stones around her neck. Even from a distance, Anna recognised lapis lazuli, garnet, topaz and citrine.
The barman produced the menu with a flourish and a welcoming smile.
“A cocktail, ma’am?”
“Why not?”
Perching on a barstool, she felt an unexpected twinge of disappointment.
“A Long Island Iced Tea.”
Not a favourite, but at least she was aware of the quantity of alcohol she was drinking. Not that it mattered as much anymore, she thought wryly.
“Put it on my bill. I wasn’t sure you’d be here tonight.”
Recognizing the voice, Anna turned. He hadn’t even made the effort to get up.
“I don’t think so.” She smiled sweetly, and then turned back to address the barman. “On my bill, please.”
She caught his female companion studying her curiously.
“So, you’re turning me down again?”
Chair legs scraped on the wooden floor.
“I’m guessing it must an unusual experience for you,” she said tartly, as he came to stand beside her.
“It has been done before. Thankfully not too often. Look, can we start again?” He held out his hand in introduction. “Trent.”
She hesitated. Then shrugged, as if to say why not.
His grip was firm and confident.
“Anna.”
“A beautiful name.”
She nodded. “My parents thought so.”
“Ouch. You really do have a bite. Look, I’m tied up for an hour or so. Can we meet here later?”
Anna thought the other woman might have something to say about that. “I don’t think so.”
“I’m not hearing a definitive no, so I’ll take that as a maybe.” He gave her a conspiratorial grin.
Despite all her misgivings, Anna went back to the bar after dinner. Trent was sitting at the same table as earlier, but with two men. The raven-haired beauty was nowhere to be seen.
This time she made her way to a pair of comfortable-looking armchairs to one side of a low table. Away from the bar the lighting was subdued—little more than candles flickering in glass bowls. Everywhere there were small sprays of waxy flowers giving off a heady perfume, and the overall effect was intoxicating.
In less than a minute he had joined her.
“You came. I wondered whether I had pushed my luck too far. Dare I ask if I could get you a drink, or are you going to turn me down a third time?”
“No,” Anna relented. “Just a wine, though.”
“Any particular type?”
“A good aromatic.”
“I hope I haven’t taken you away from your friends?” she said, when he returned from the bar.
“No. And they’re not friends. At least one of them isn’t. The tall one,” Trent twisted in his chair to point a finger, “is my brother. The other guy works for us. But the relationship between us is a little blurred as we’ve been together so long.”
“Oh. So what do you do?”
“Marine salvage.” Trent took a long swallow of his beer. “It’s a family concern. The old man started the company in the seventies. Now he sits back, and Brad and I run it for him.”
“Sounds like an interesting line of work.”
“It is. Never a dull moment. What about you?”
“I own a perfumery.” There. She had said it. She was almost unable to conceal her glee, given the thrill coursing through her veins.
“Unusual,” he said. “Does that mean you make perfume, or sell it?”
“I sell it. At least I will be, starting next week.”
“Oh?”
“You could say I have been completing my apprenticeship.”
He looked at her quizzically.
Oh why not, she thought.
“A friend has owned a perfume shop for some twenty years. I’ve been working alongside her these past few weeks, and as of mid January it will officially be mine.”
“You bought it?”
“Yes.
“Congratulations! And so you’re enjoying the last days of freedom before settling down to some hard work?”
“You could say that.” She laughed.
It was true. She wouldn’t have any time in the future to fly halfway around the world and lie on a beach. Nor would she have the money. She did intend to travel, though not for relaxation. Inspired by Gabrielle’s passion and enthusiasm for her products, she couldn’t wait to immerse herself in the world of perfume. That meant not only reading up on the history, but also gaining a good understanding of its complexity and secrets. And the best place for that, she decided, was where it was made. Places such as Grasse, the city of perfume in France.
As she had laughingly told Gabrielle, she would be a true fragranista.
She reached for her wine glass. “How long are you here for?” she asked.
“Unfortunately it’s just a stop-over on the way back to the States. Singapore to Houston via the Maldives.”
“Certainly beats hanging around in an airport,” she said.
“Exactly. We’ve just picked up a major contract and shouldn’t really be here at all. Only it’s Brad’s wedding anniversary. Luckily the team at home is getting everything ready, so we can move on almost as soon as we are back.”
“He’s spending his anniversary with you guys?” Anna was incredulous.
“No way!” Trent laughed. “Lisa’s here too.”
“Oh.”
He must have guessed her next question. “She was in here earlier,” he said. “White dress?”
Anna nodded.
“The four of us went out for dinner,” he continued, “and after she’d gone back to their villa, Brad was allowed one more nightcap. Then his presence was expected.”
“Ah.” So the raven-haired beauty was Brad’s wife. That made a difference.
“So, where are you off to next?” Anna asked.
“Container ship on a reef. Cargo needs to be unloaded, and then with a bit of luck it might simply be a case of towing her off.”
“And if not?”
“Then we’ll have to break her up.”
“Sounds like hard work.”
“It is. Look, enough about me. Tell me about you.” Trent raised his arm to call over a passing waiter. “Another wine? Or something else.”
“Armagnac, I think.”
Trent raised an expressive eyebrow.
“Does that mean we’re friends?” he asked.
“It might.”
“Then we had better make that two.”
“Incredible. But it also makes you feel so small. So insignificant.” Anna said quietly. They had pulled her two sunbeds together and lay looking up at the night sky. High above the gently swaying palm fronds, myriads of tiny stars were twinkling.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Trent was thoughtful. “You have to wonder why we even exist sometimes.”
He had been a perfect gentleman, Anna thought. She had enjoyed their evening, and thought she might sleep with him after all.
She raised her arm and pointed to the heavens. “Isn’t that Orion’s Belt?”
“Sure is. I’m impressed.”
“It’s the only one I know.”
“Can you see the reddish star nearby? That’s Beetlejuice.”
“Yeah, right.” Despite herself she giggled.
“No, seriously. It is.”
“So what are you? A closet astronomer?”
“More a hopeless romantic.”
“And that’s supposed to impress me?”
Trent rolled onto his side and supported his head on his hand. “Are you telling me my lethal charm is failing?” His tone was suitably disappointed.
“I’m sorry to say it is.”
“Then I’ll have to try harder.” The touch of his palm on her cheek was gentle, his lips on hers delicate. She closed her eyes and gave in to the wonderful sensations.
Then his fingers were in her hair, his tongue in her mouth. She could smell his cologne. It was sharp, clean, and citrusy.
She found it hard to breathe.
“Do you want me to stop?” His voice was teasing.
“No.”
She pulled his mouth back down on hers, and as he pressed down against her and her nipples hardened, the oh-so-familiar words reverberated inside her head.
Remember the rule, Anna.
Convent-educated from the age of four, Galia Ryan was brought up not to question. Perhaps because of this, she has always been fascinated by all things esoteric and “outside the square.” Originally from Sussex, England, and now living in New Zealand with her soul-mate husband and grown-up family, Galia tries to find time between her passions for writing and reading and for her other love—travel. There is always a growing list of must-see places.
Desires is the third novel in the Luxuria Trilogy, which began with Choices. Book 2, Secrets, tells Stephanie’s story. Galia is currently working on an anthology of short stories.
You can find her on the Web at:
Galiaryan.fannypress.com.