Lisa
Book Six
Beach Brides Series
Prologue
Lisa’s message in a bottle...
To Whom it may concern,
I’m an adventurous girl, who’d
love to see the world, but I don’t have the money or the time.
If I met someone, though, who liked
to travel for fun, he’d become a best friend of mine.
I love the mountains, the seas,
the rocks and the trees, and the Cairo Museum of Antiquities.
I’ve never seen a polar bear, visited
The World’s Fair, or climbed the Eiffel Tower in France.
I want to see pyramids, ride a
tram atop a rainforest, and learn the Flamenco dance.
Do you like pińa Coladas and strolling
in the rain? Is there a special place in the world you’d love to see again?
If you’re a guy who loves to fly
or cruise on the mighty sea;
then give
me a shout, tell me what you’re all about, ‘cause you might be the one for me.
IslandGirl#1@...
Chapter One
Enchanted Island, East Caribbean
The Month of July
Lisa Kaye sipped her wine and stared at the blank page in front of her, wondering how to compose a message to a man she’d never met.
The
twelve women in her group, The Romantic Hearts Book Club, had chosen to spend their
last night vacationing together on Enchanted Island working on a spur-of-the-moment
project. The group had read and discussed many romance novels since the club’s
inception and each woman had a favorite hero from the book of her choice, a man
she would love to call her own. Lisa didn’t know who had suggested the concept,
but after a spirited discussion and a couple of rounds of cocktails, the group had
concluded that each woman would compose a personal message to her “dream hero,”
stuff it into a bottle and throw the bottle into the Caribbean. In Lisa’s
opinion, the chance of anyone—much less the perfect man—finding her bottle and
taking the message seriously seemed ludicrous, but everyone else had agreed to
do it so she decided to go along with the plan.
After
dinner, the women gathered at the poolside bar to take in the balmy air of
their last evening together at the Hideaway Cove Resort. The atmosphere
vibrated with the jaunty, percussion-like sounds of Reggae music played on
steel drums. A small group of people played a lively game of volleyball in the adjacent
pool.
Sitting
at a round table for two, Lisa rested her chin on the heel of her hand and
tried to come up with something clever to put in her message. The harder she
tried to concentrate, the more her mind stubbornly refused to cooperate.
The
young woman sitting across from her sipped a glass of Chablis, studying her. “How
are you doing on your message?” The warm Caribbean breeze ruffled a few wisps
of hair from Clair’s French braid. Her dark locks contrasted against her
magenta sundress. “Are you making any progress?”
Lisa
slid the blank paper toward Clair and sighed. “I can’t even get started. How
are you coming along with yours?”
“I
need to work on mine, but I’m not putting a lot of effort into it. I don’t see
the point in writing a message to a complete stranger when I already have a
dream hero back at home.” Clair’s fine brows drew together in annoyance as she
leaned closer. “If you ask me, the idea is pretty silly.”
Lisa
nodded. “It’s risky, too. What if the wrong person finds my bottle and begins
to stalk me online?”
Clair’s
brown eyes widened with an incredulous stare. “You’re not going to put your personal
email address on it, are you?”
Lisa
shook her head. “No way. I’ve created a new one specifically for this purpose
and I’m not using my real name. If anyone replies, I’ll know the person has the
bottle.”
“I
did the same thing,” Clair replied. “I don’t want anyone getting hold of my
personal information.” She slid the sheet of paper back to Lisa. “Think of your
ideal man and write to him.”
Lisa
chuckled. “As a kid, I had a crush on Indiana Jones. I used to run around the house
wearing my dad’s Fedora with a brown vest and carrying a makeshift whip,
pretending that Indy and I were exploring the treasures of the world together.
I’ve read quite a few books with that type of character and I’ve loved them
all.” She doodled on the paper, drawing a crude outline of a small treasure
map. “Sometimes I wish I’d pursued a degree in archaeology instead of business
administration. Maybe I’d be doing something more exciting with my life now,
instead of supervising the Personal Lines Department of an insurance agency.”
Clair
grabbed a business card off another table and flipped it over to the blank
side. “I’ll use this to write my message. Do you have a pen I could borrow?”
She
handed Clair a pen and went back to work, racking her brain to come up with
something suitable.
After
twenty minutes, another glass of wine, and three sheets of paper, Lisa showed
her message to Clair. “It sounds more like a Dr. Seuss book than a memo to Mr.
Right, but that’s the best I can do.”
Clair
picked up the sheet and scanned the words. “It’s cute. And totally you. I like
it.” She slid it back across the table. “What are you using for a bottle?”
“Gosh,
I forgot to get one.” Lisa began to fold the paper into a narrow strip. “I
wonder if I can get something from the bar.”
But
when she went to the bar and asked for a bottle to use, the bartender refused,
warning her that the resort forbade throwing any trash into the bay.
A
couple of days ago, on a shopping trip through the island’s historic downtown
area, she’d purchased an antique bottle from a small curio shop, but she
certainly didn’t want to use that one. The cobalt bottle had attracted her, embossed
with “Owl Drug Company” and a figure of an owl sitting upon a mortar with one
claw clutching the pestle. The shopkeeper had remarked that he came by it after
a local resident had fished it out of the bay. She had planned to use it for a vase
and hated the thought of throwing it back in there!
Unless I don’t actually toss it—just
make it look like I threw it...
The
early evening sun dipped low in the sky, hanging over the endless horizon of
the Caribbean like a crimson ball of fire. The twelve women laughed and talked as
they walked through a grove of palms in an undeveloped area next to the resort.
Tara and Meg led the way along the well-trodden trail to a remote strip of
shoreline, far enough from the resort so no one in the area could see them
tossing their bottles into the water. Jenny and Faith were next in line. They
vowed to organize another group getaway and smacked their palms together in
agreement. Behind them, Nina and Hope joined in, laughing as they offered a few
suggestions.
Lisa
and Clair hung back, trailing the group so they could chat.
“Ouch!
Wait a minute.” Clair stopped and pulled off one of her silver flip-flops to
remove a tiny fragment of coral stuck in the ball of her foot. She looked up. “Are
you leaving tomorrow with us or are you staying on to visit with your aunt?”
“I
came a few days early and spent time with her,” Lisa said as they stood on the
sandy trail. “She wants me to move here permanently to take over her bed and
breakfast hotel.”
Her
Aunt Elsie Dubois lived in a large white house with blue trim on the edge of
the island’s business district. Lisa had poignant childhood memories of time spent
here, roaming the cobblestone streets of “old town” Morganville and playing on
the beaches with her cousins. The thought of living here permanently tugged at
her heartstrings, but...
“Are
you serious?” Clair slipped her flip-flop back on and resumed walking. “That
sounds like a dream come true! Are you considering it?”
Lisa
sighed with regret, knowing an opportunity like that would never come along
again. “I’d love to accept the offer, but I have too many obligations back home
to just drop everything and move here.” She leaned close to Clair to keep their
conversation private. “I love this island, but I need to go home. The last time
I talked to my boyfriend, Rob on the phone he said he had something important
to tell me and I need to find out what it is.” She didn’t know what Rob wanted
to discuss because he wouldn’t elaborate. The more she thought about it, however,
the more uneasy she became. Ever since he had started a new job several months
ago, they’d been seeing less and less of each other. Rob always blamed it on
his workload. Over time, his excuses had worn her patience, causing her to
wonder if they were right for each other.
Clair
gave her a brief, knowing smile. “I’ve had a great time here, but I’m getting a
little antsy to get home, too.”
Though
she didn’t say any more, Lisa understood that Clair missed the “hero” in her
life and wanted to see him again.
They
walked out of the palm grove and along the rocky shore until they reached an
area that looked suitable to toss their bottles.
“Okay,
everyone,” Tara said as the group lined up. “On the count of three, throw ‘em
in!”
Clair
shook her head and mumbled, “Here goes nothing.”
Lisa
drew the small blue bottle from her purse that held her message. She stood
poised to throw it but intended to merely go through the motion then quickly
slip it back into her purse before anyone noticed.
“One...two...three!”
An
assortment of glass in a blend of colors, sizes, and shapes flew through the
air and dropped into the sea in a succession of loud plunks and splashes. Lisa
clutched her bottle and swung her arm, but the bottle had something slippery on
it and the oily liquid squished through her fingers. The cap on the sunscreen lotion
she carried in her purse must have loosened and leaked all over everything. Darn!
The bottle suddenly flew from her hand and sailed through the air like a
missile then disappeared into the water, leaving only a circular wave of
ripples in its wake.
Shocked,
she stared across the surface of the aqua water, disappointed that she would
never see that cute little bottle again.
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2 comments:
Denise you are a very talented writer. I enjoyed your first chapter. I agree with your comments about the book cover.
Thank you, Donna! It means a lot to me.
Denise
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