Praise for Heather Burch
“Heather Burch has proven herself to
have such an exceptional storytelling
range that one might be tempted to call
her ‘the Mariah Carey of romance
fiction.’ One Lavender Ribbon blew my
expectations out of the water and then
swept me away on a wave of sweet
romance. Don’t miss this one.”—Serena
Chase, contributor to USA Today’s
Happy Ever After blog and author of
The Seahorse Legacy
“Burch’s latest combines a sweet,
nostalgic, poignant tale of a true love of
the past with the discovery of true love
in the present . . . Burch’s lyrical,
contemporary storytelling, down-to-
earth characters, and intricate plot make
this one story that will delight the
heart.”—RT Book Reviews on One
Lavender Ribbon, 4.5 Stars
AmazingBooks
Also by Heather Burch
One Lavender Ribbon
The Roads to River Rock
Along the Broken Road
Down the Hidden Path
Young Adult Novels
Summer by Summer
Halflings
Halflings
Guardian
Avenger
This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, organizations, places, events,
and incidents are either products of the
author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously.
Text copyright © 2015 Heather Burch
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced,
or stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording, or otherwise, without express
written permission of the publisher.
Published by Montlake Romance, Seattle
Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake
Romance are trademarks of
, Inc., or its affiliates.
e-ISBN: 9781503996281
Cover design by Laura Klynstra
For my amazing Amazon cruise team,
Laura H, John B, Timoney and Laura R.
And to the crew of the Emerald
Princess, especially Christina and
Jamilia, who were the perfect hostesses
and are now friends for life.
And Kelli—I feel like—no, I KNOW this
would never have happened without
you.
And JoVon. You take such good care of
me. I’m forever in your debt!
Contents
My Letter to Readers
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Miss Megan’s Top Three Beauty Secrets
Sneak peek: Down the Hidden Path
About the Author
My Letter to Readers
Dear Reader,
If I could take you by the hand and
lead you aboard Emerald
Princess, I would. Because it isn’t
just a place to spend a vacation,
it’s the place where the world
stops spinning so quickly. From the
moment I stepped aboard, I knew a
deep relaxation was going to find
me. I tossed my phone in a drawer
and my purse in the closet. I took
long, slow walks around the ship. I
reconnected with my husband with
no distractions to steal our
attention. White sand beaches.
Umbrella drinks. Golden sunsets.
It was everything I imagined and
more.
As I watched the crew, I realized
something. They understand how
much we all need a break. Their
smiles and friendly attitudes say it
all. They want to be a part of our
long, deep breath. When I left the
ship, a little bit of my heart stayed
right there.
It’s an honor to have been chosen
to write a love story aboard
Emerald Princess. Finding
romance is no difficult feat when
you’re surrounded by soft breezes,
warm sun rays, and music that
makes you want to move your feet.
When I wrote my story about
Megan and Alexander, the words
flowed out of me and I began to
relive every beautiful and
memorable moment aboard. I can’t
wait to share it with you, and I
can’t wait for the next phase of this
journey as I embark on another
cruise sailing to the Caribbean!
My greatest hope is that I’ve
captured a bit of the magic. It was
a week I will always cherish.
I hope you enjoy my story. And I
hope you one day walk across that
gangway yourself. Find a spot in
the shade and let the breeze carry
you away. I promise you’ll come
back filled with unforgettable new
memories powerful enough to hold
you until your next cruise
adventure.
Thinking of you,
Heather
Chapter 1
A seawitch is a beauty with
the power to entrance sailors.
She rules a kingdom far
beneath the sea.
Alexander Andrews noticed her as soon
as she stepped onto the gangway, her
ballerina flats tiptoeing onto the ship as
if stepping through a looking glass and
into an alternate world. Her head tilted
back, releasing the mass of red hair from
her shoulders and causing a long,
slender neck to crane. She half turned,
taking in the gleaming sight of the
massive ship as eyes the color of
emeralds in sunlight closed, perhaps to
capture the moment. She inhaled deeply,
her delicate shoulders rising then falling
as if every care, every distraction was
being left right there on the gangway for
the wind and waves to carry off.
Alexander’s heart did a little flop. He
cleared his throat as his gaze trailed her
legs. A light blue skirt shifted with each
of her steps, grazing the skin of her
thighs. When the man in line in front of
him blocked his view with a massive
cowboy hat, Alexander shifted, chin
rising until the redhead filled his vision.
His mind drifted away. Maybe it was the
water; maybe it was the copper hair
floating carelessly on the breeze that
would carry them to the Caribbean.
Whatever it was caused a flutter inside
his chest. His mind imagined tales of
seamen lost on the ocean and long-
haired, beautiful mermaids coming to
their rescue. He wouldn’t mind being
rescued by this mermaid.
The wind kicked up and her long,
slender fingers grasped the stray strands
of hair as she cast a seductive look
behind her . . . almost as if she knew his
gaze was fitted tightly to her flesh. But,
cowboy hat again, and the moment was
lost.
Alexander tried to drag his focus
elsewhere until a voice, crisp and
smooth and filled with all the excitement
and anticipation that this sort of trip
elicited, worked its way over the breeze
to him, tickling his ears. She was five
guests ahead and he leaned forward to
hear her words more clearly as she
visited with an elderly couple behind
her. Alexander made an executive
decision to eavesdrop.
“No, I’ve never been on a cruise
before.” Her eyes widened when she
said it and Alexander realized he was
grinning.
“You’ve been on twenty-five?
Really? You must love cruising.”
The couple both nodded, two gray
heads bobbing nonchalantly, but their
excitement was easily read in their body
language.
Alexander had never been on a
cruise, either. And wouldn’t be now if it
wasn’t for his assistant, Margery. She
was the perfect combination of a mother
hen and a pit bull. She’d informed him in
no uncertain terms that his general
grumpiness had reached mythical
proportions. He was going away and had
better come back nicer. Or she’d be
looking for another job. But Margery—
thirty years his senior—was more family
than employee, and when she insisted, he
agreed, assuming she’d send him to New
York or LA, where he could make some
contacts while recharging. He certainly
hadn’t expected this. Seven days of
Caribbean sun and cuisine. Seven days
to leave the world behind and just . . .
relax. The very idea crawled over
Alex’s flesh like a colony of ants. Relax
was a word he’d placed in a tightly
lidded box and stored in the back closet
of his mind. Other words kept it
company. Words like time off. Vacation.
Downtime. He didn’t have time for any
of it.
He’d had his downtime in college.
Now, being the CEO of the largest
family-owned beauty business in his part
of the country left little room for
vacationing. Well, thanks to Margery, he
could make up for lost time. He tilted his
ear in the direction of the redhead.
She tossed those long, coppery locks
and said, “As soon as I drop my bag in
my stateroom, I’m going to Neptune’s
pool.”
Interesting. Maybe he’d go to
Neptune’s pool as well.
He lost her in the shuffle of guests.
They all stepped inside the belly of the
ship to find a smiling crew directing
them. Somewhere off in the distance, he
heard calypso music. “Wow.” His gaze
flittered over the beautiful decor, the
perfect combination of a luxury hotel and
an island getaway, with warm, serene
colors and tropical murals all set off by
ambient lighting.
A dark-haired female crewmember
dressed in white and sporting a little
gold name tag smiled. “She is beautiful,
isn’t she? Wait until you see the Piazza.”
The woman, with a hint of a European
accent, pointed him to the elevators. He
spotted Red getting into one and hoped
to muscle his way to her, but the door
closed. “Aloha Deck Number Twelve.
You’re in one of our balcony staterooms.
Have a wonderful week.”
Alexander thanked her and entered
the elevator. The redhead floated through
his mind as he rode to twelve. He knew
where to find her. Neptune’s. Just as he
slipped his key from his pocket, he saw
it. The flash of red hair and an oomph
sound as the woman in the stateroom
next door struggled with her shoulder
bag. Though tucked into the alcove
separating his door from hers, there was
no denying the flash of hair as she
tumbled inside. Red was his next-door
neighbor.
And Alex couldn’t be happier to be
on a ship headed for the Caribbean.
Chapter 2
Maritime legend suggests
Aquanna, the seawitch,
controls the wind.
Megan Cooper had a job to do and she’d
do well to remember that. But the salty
sea air and the gorgeous sunshine
beckoned, and before she could think
twice, she was stretched out on a
cushioned chaise and soaking up the sun.
Already she felt miles and miles away
from the responsibilities that waited at
home. “Come back new,” the brochure
had said. Oh, she planned to do that and
so much more. When the first bits of
sweat began to glisten on her flesh,
Megan rose from her spot and jumped
into the pool. She came up quickly, head
thrown back and loving the feel of the
fresh, cool water on her limbs and torso.
She’d been a gold medalist in high
school, taking every blue ribbon and
setting records for swimming. But small-
town glory was nothing compared to her
love of the water. Any body of water.
She tilted and floated on her back. She
could stay like that for hours if she
chose, but when her stomach growled,
she decided it was time to leave her
aquatic home and return to the one on
Aloha Deck twelve. It was just as
Megan rose from the side of the pool that
she felt the gentle tug on the back of her
hair. She turned and saw nothing, so she
gave a one-shouldered shrug and got out.
A blue-and-white striped beach towel
waited for her, but the tug again. She
turned again, nothing. Something was
jerking on her hair and the joke was
losing its humor.
Megan spun, glancing behind her and
only vaguely aware of a tall form making
its way to her while she left a puddle of
water on the deck. She stopped dead
when a voice interrupted her puppy-
chasing-her-tail motion.
“May I help?” The sound was velvet,
deep, filled with sin and just enough
friendliness to cause nice girls to nearly
faint then open their arms wide and obey
whatever that voice commanded. Megan
blinked; she might have nodded but
wasn’t sure until a firm hand landed on
her shoulder. The other made its way to
the back of her swimsuit and,
remembering horrifying moments from
high school, she wondered if he was
going to release the clasp. She sucked a
breath, waiting for the spring. But
instead, he waited for her command.
She’d closed her eyes, but opened
one and looked up up up over her
shoulder and into a dark gaze.
A delicious smile tilted the side of his
cheek. “May I?” He nodded toward her
back. “You have a bit of your hair caught
in the clasp.”
“Oh.” Her eyes flew open fully and
she nodded.
His hand left her shoulder and she felt
the gentlest tug across the middle of her
back. The sensation was dizzying.
Gooseflesh broke out along her arms.
“Just about there,” he purred, his hand
seeming to move like an expert’s. He
released a long breath that slid over her
exposed skin and into all the intimate
places one didn’t usually share with a
complete stranger. The back of her neck,
the narrow cave between her breasts,
that space where her shoulder blades
met.
“I’d hoped to catch a mermaid on this
cruise, but I didn’t expect it to happen so
quickly.”
“What?”
“A mermaid,” he said. “Actually, to
be more specific, a seawitch.”
She hadn’t meant for her fist to land
on her cocked hip, but there it was.
“Excuse me?”
He chuckled and placed both hands in
front of his body. “No offense. A
seawitch isn’t . . . well, it’s not what
you’re thinking . . . at least, what I
assume you’re thinking if the scowl on
your face is any indication.”
Megan narrowed her gaze, but more
out of intrigue than anger.
Handsome talked on. “Surely you’ve
heard about Aquanna, the seawitch. Half
human, half mermaid. Beauty of the
depths?”
She tilted her head, curious as a cat,
and wondered if tall, hunky guys like this
were stationed at various spots on the
ship to rescue damsels in distress then
call them names. This would make some
story back home. Yeah, I met a cute guy.
He rescued me from my own hair and
called me a witch. Of course, she
intended to go home with a much more
brilliant story than that. And then she
realized maybe . . . just maybe . . . this
was the beginning of that story. “Aqua
who?”
He chuckled, sliding his hands into
his khaki shorts. “Aquanna. The
seawitch some people claim to have
seen while aboard the ship.”
“Oooooh.” One thing Megan loved
was a good story, and fairy tales were
the best. She took a moment to examine
the tall stranger. Smooth, no doubt. But
also with a Midwestern ruggedness
about him. A tiny scar—barely visible—
marred his chin, and was there a faint
hint of a Southern accent in his tone?
“And you hoped to see her?”
He looked out over the water. “I’m
keeping my eyes peeled.”
Her heart beat a little faster. “Can you
tell me the story?”
His gaze pinned her, and the lightness
of the moment faded to something
deeper, something stronger. She was a
ship being tossed at sea, her equilibrium
lost in those eyes that had been bright
one moment and were filled with depth
and mystery the next. The tiny flecks in
his irises flashed like a promise. Or
perhaps a warning.
“I’ll tell you at dinner,” he
whispered.
Megan drew her bottom lip into her
mouth and bit down. The motion wasn’t
lost on him and her flesh prickled at the
way his eyes dropped to her lips at her
movement. Her mind rushed forward to
a newspaper announcement she was
already writing . . . the couple met
aboard Emerald Princess while cruising
to the Caribbean. A minor mishap and
a dashing rescue and the two spent the
entire cruise together. Megan Cooper
and Richard—insert last name here
—will be wed at—insert such and such
a time at such and such a place. Oh yes,
it was perfect. As long as Handsome’s
name was Richard.
“Dinner?” she echoed, not knowing
what else to say.
He nodded. “At Sabatini’s. Do you
like Italian?”
But what if his name wasn’t
Richard? “I’m pretty fond of any and all
kinds of food. Except Brussels sprouts.
Just can’t go there.”
“So, we’ll meet at Sabatini’s at
seven? You have my word as a
gentleman there will be no Brussels
sprouts.”
Megan pulled a hand to her mouth,
chewed her index fingernail. “What’s
your name?”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “If I tell
you, it will ruin the mystique.”
“If I don’t show up, that will ruin the
mystique.”
He chuckled. “True. My name is
Alexander.”
Her heart dropped. “Alexander . . .”
she drew the word out so he could fill in
the rest.
“I’ll tell you at dinner.”
She cocked her hip again. “Alexander
Richards?”
His brow quirked a frown. “Dinner.
Seven o’clock. Sabatini’s.” He started to
walk away.
She called after him. “Don’t you want
to know my name?”
He half turned and glanced back like
a male model on a photo shoot.
She folded her hands over her chest
because his eyes on her made her feel
deliciously exposed. “My name is
Megan.”
He bowed, very Prince Charming,
and winked. Alexander walked away.
And Megan knew she’d either begun her
adventure perfectly, or she’d thrown a
terrible wrench into it. She wasn’t sure
which. And right now, with the steel
drum music and island atmosphere, she
didn’t care. If this wasn’t her Richard,
he was somewhere. On the ship. She’d
find him. After all, Grandma Trini was
never wrong.
Chapter 3
It is unwise to try to capture a
seawitch. One can only
beckon and hope for the best.
If a seawitch chooses you,
then you are truly blessed.
She’ll be here, Alex told himself over
and over. He stood at the door to
Sabatini’s, one of the fine-dining
restaurants the ship was known for. It
was nearly seven. When the nerves hit—
so unlike him—he wandered into
Adagio, a lounge adjacent to Sabatini’s.
Inside Adagio, he chose a spot at the bar
where he could look out and see a
panoramic view of the ocean.
The lone bartender smiled. “What can
I get for you?”
But just as he was beginning to open
his mouth to order, a sensation skated
across the back of his neck. Practically
tangible, almost like silk. Alex turned.
And there she was, standing in the
doorway. Her hair pulled back, her
shoulders bare with a delicate scarf
caressing her throat. Black dress, fitted
through the midsection, a slit on one leg
revealing tan skin. High-heeled sandals
with rhinestones. Gorgeous.
He slid off the barstool; words were
bouncing around in his head, but he
couldn’t get them out of his mouth.
The silence caused her to falter. A
frown pinched her brow. “Am I late?”
He sucked a breath, hoping it would
stabilize him. “You’re perfect.”
And then she smiled and the motion
sent hot lava into the pit of his belly.
Alexander moved to her and took her
arm then led her to the door of
Sabatini’s, where the host, a man
dressed in a pale suit, greeted them.
“Buonasera.”
“Andrews, party of two.”
Megan’s head jerked to look at him.
The gentleman nodded. “Oh, yes, yes.
Andrews. I have the perfect place for
you. My favorite table. Very romantic,
overlooking the fountain and the ocean
beyond. Come, come.”
Alexander led her through the dining
room, a masterpiece that mimicked the
warm ambiance of Italy. Tuscan-inspired
columns and archways created intimacy
for each set of diners. Warm polished
wood accented the circular ceiling,
creating just enough whimsy to make one
think they’d stepped into another world.
Alexander and Megan took a seat at a
linen-covered table decorated with fresh
flowers and an array of crystal goblets.
“My name is Cristoforo. I am from
Northern Italy. Welcome to Sabatini’s.
Tonight you will be dining with us for
two to three hours. We are bringing you
our herbed and spiced focaccia grissini,
rosemary flatbread with delicate
prosciutto and marinated olives.” All
this he said with an Italian accent that
made each word roll out of his mouth
like a song.
He continued, “After that you will be
choosing from our delicious antipasti
menu, selecting a pasta and a secondo
piatto—which is the main course. What
questions may I answer for you?”
“There’s no way I can eat all that,”
Megan said, but the smile on her face
gave her away. She was willing to try.
Cristoforo bowed at the waist. “You
will love each course; it is my promise.
And it will be just enough . . .” His eyes
twinkled. “To have room for dessert.”
“I’ll split my dress wide open.” She
lifted her hands in a shrug. “Okay, I’m at
your mercy.”
The two ordered and drinks were
delivered to the table.
Alex watched her smile grow as the
expert waitstaff doted on them. “Not
used to this kind of pampering, are you?”
Her eyes widened. “Who is used to
this? I mean, really? Other than royalty?”
“And mermaids,” he inserted.
She half grinned. “Don’t you mean
seawitches?”
“Of course.”
“Wait a minute. Are you used to this?
And don’t forget your promise to tell me
everything about Aquanna.”
“I travel a lot for work. Lots of five-
star hotels and restaurants, but I have to
say, so far the service on board has been
stellar. And the view is second to none.”
“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever eaten in
a five-star restaurant, and I’m not sure I
wouldn’t make a complete fool of myself
if I did.”
He chuckled, leaning forward. “I
highly doubt that.”
“You don’t know me.” Her shoulder
tipped. “I ruined a cakewalk once by
falling into the prize table.”
“Shocking,” he said.
“And one time at the grocery store, I
dropped a whole box of soda cans on the
floor, and they went spewing in all
directions.”
He placed a hand over his heart.
“Horrifying.”
Megan took a sip of water, a motion
he found much more interesting than her
stories of mishap.
“I’m just warning you.” Her gaze
went to the window where the setting
sun kissed the water’s edge.
He watched as her eyes became
troubled. “What’s wrong, Megan?”
“Your name really isn’t Richard?”
The green of her irises deepened,
sadness creating a gentle fog that caused
his heart to ache.
“No. Why Richard?”
She rested her elbows on the table
and examined him. “Do you have a
stepdad? Was your mother’s maiden
name Richards? Or Richardson? Or
something like that?”
Perhaps she’d escaped the mental
ward. “No on all counts. What’s so
special about the name Richard?”
She drew a deep breath and let it out
slowly as her attention went to the
fountain. Its colors were mesmerizing
and it was a long time before she spoke.
“It has to do with my grandma.”
Alexander could see both love and
adoration for the woman in Megan’s
face. Hear it in her voice. “Will you tell
me, Megan?”
Her attention snapped to him and she
nodded, but he watched as a cloud of
uncertainty quickly followed.
Alexander settled in to hear the story
he was certain he could get her to tell.
“Please.”
She tilted back, gazed up at the ornate
ceiling, and he was fairly certain she
was weighing the decision to divulge her
secret or not. Then, like a lightning bolt
she leaned forward and pinned him with
her intensity. “You see, my grandma sees
the future. Well, where couples are
concerned. She had a dream. In the
dream, I went on this”—and as she said
it, her index finger poked the linen
tablecloth—“cruise and I met my soul
mate. And his name was Richard.”
For the briefest of seconds,
Alexander thought she must be kidding,
but the flat stare from across the
candlelit table let him know this was no
joke to her.
And quite suddenly, he opened his
mouth and words—words he had no
intention of saying—gurgled up,
overflowing like the fountain beyond the
window. “Do you believe in things like
that?”
She blinked. “Well . . . well, yes. Of
course. Grandma Trini is no ordinary
old lady. I mean, she saw a vision of my
aunt falling off a horse—my aunt had
never ridden a horse—and being
rescued by an off-duty fireman and guess
what?”
He bit his cheeks. “Your aunt went on
a horse ride and—”
She nodded furiously. “You guessed
it.”
He folded his arms on the table and
stared at her hard, but the smile stayed
planted on his face and if his life
depended on its removal, he’d be in
trouble. “You’re basing your future on a
dream by an elderly woman who once
dreamed about a woman who’d never
ridden a horse before, but then did and
fell off.”
Megan raised a finger. “And met her
soul mate.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that.”
“Don’t you believe in fate? In . . .”
Megan tugged on the ends of the silky
scarf around her throat. Her eyes had
gone the color of emeralds set on fire
and if Alexander could capture that look,
he’d do it. It was beautiful.
“In what, Megan?”
Then her eyes were on him. Green.
Direct. “Love.” After she said it, she
pulled her lip into her mouth and bit
down. “I’m sorry. That was really silly.”
He reached across the table because
it seemed important to touch her hand, if
only gently. “No, it wasn’t.” He paused.
“I’ll help you find him.”
She blinked, once, twice, and again.
“What?”
“Your grandmother? You said she’s
reliable on these sorts of things.”
Megan squared her shoulders.
“Grandma Trini has never been wrong.”
“That’s it, then. I’ll help. Who am I to
stand in the way of true love?”
A slight frown bit into the smooth skin
of her forehead. “Okay.”
He read the uncertainty. “It’s settled.”
“But why?” As her head shook, a long
strand of wavy hair rubbed against her
throat and caught on the edge of her
scarf.
He inhaled. “Look, I’m a
businessman. I’m used to working, well,
pretty much eighteen hours a day. To be
honest, I wasn’t at all certain how I’d do
being cooped up on a ship for a week.”
“Cooped up? I should smack your
face for even saying such a thing.”
He held his hands out in surrender. “I
know. Trust me. I’m already beginning to
relax and just—I don’t know—just be
for a while. All the stress from my
company, all my responsibilities . . .
already they are feeling further and
further away. It’s good. Great. But I also
have an unstoppable amount of energy. I
need a goal. Helping you find your
Richard may be just the ticket.”
“There have to be things you do to
relax at home, right?”
He chewed his cheek. “Not too much,
anymore. Just work.”
“That’s sad.” Now it was her turn to
plant her arms on the table and examine
him with narrowed eyes. “What did you
used to do?”
“Horseback riding. And, no, I never
fell off to be rescued by a fireman.”
Megan laughed, snorted, and quickly
clamped a hand over her mouth. Her
eyes were big as saucers.
“My grandfather taught me to ride.
Honestly, as a kid, I’d take off from the
barn in a dead run. My hair—always
overgrown and in need of a cut—flying
behind me, my entire body leaning into
the breeze. It’s silly, but I always
imagined I’d capture the wind. I guess
that’s why when I heard the story of
Aquanna, it . . .”
Megan leaned forward until she was
barely on her seat at all. “It what? What
does a seawitch have to do with
horseback riding?”
“It’s said that a seawitch can control
the winds. If she ties one, two, or three
knots in a rope or a scarf, then the power
of the wind is trapped there. When the
knots were tied in the proper magical
way, the wind was bound up in them.
Some seafarers believed that the
seawitch gave, or sometimes sold, these
magic knots to sailors to help them
experience safe voyages. And those
winds she can give freely to seamen in
need.” Without meaning to, Alexander
reached over and let his fingertips trail
Megan’s scarf.
When she spoke, the words were a
whisper. “I like this story.”
His fingers returned to his lap, but the
soft, silky feel lingered. “I thought you
would. I’ll tell you the rest another
time.”
She huffed then eyed him suspiciously
over her Branzino al Forno con
Zucchini. “Why did you come on a
cruise if you didn’t want to be cooped
up—heavens, I can’t even say it.”
“My assistant sent me. She booked it;
she planned every detail. And I’m
supposed to return a better boss.”
Megan frowned. “Why aren’t you a
good boss?”
She went to spear an olive, but it
popped out of its delicate bowl and onto
the linen-covered table. She pointed at
it. “See, I warned you I’d embarrass
you.”
He plucked the olive from the
tablecloth and tossed it into his mouth.
“Maybe I’ll embarrass you.”
She giggled and the sound rolled over
his skin like honey. Sticky. Sweet. And
impossible to wash off. Megan pointed
at him and closed one eye. “I’ll tell you
what. I’ll let you help me find my
Richard. But you have to let me help
you.”
He liked the sound of that. He liked
sitting in Sabatini’s with a gorgeous
woman who was not only beautiful, but
an absolute breath of fresh air. How long
had it been since he’d met someone like
her? He ran in the Hollywood set on one
coast and the NYC set on the other. But
he had humble beginnings. His
grandparents still lived on the farm in
the middle of Arkansas; their millions
had never changed them. He
remembered girls back home like this
one. But it had been a long, long time.
And if he was being completely honest,
he couldn’t remember one getting under
his skin the way Megan already was.
“How will you help me?” He also
couldn’t explain why spending time with
her made him want to kick off his
Armani loafers, slip into his cowboy
boots, and lie in a hayloft to watch a
rainstorm.
“Why haven’t you been a good boss?”
“Six years ago I took over my
family’s company. It’s a big company
and requires a lot of attention.”
Alexander felt his muscles tense at the
words. More than anything, he felt the
responsibility for his entire family.
“You’ve been a bad boss for six
years? Bless her heart for sticking it out.
You should give her a raise.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that. I’ve only been a
bad boss for the last several months.”
Their plates were cleared and
Alexander motioned to the door leading
to the back of the ship. She nodded, a
look of excitement replacing the
satisfied one from moments ago.
Outside, a gentle wind worked its way
over their flesh and the moon cast a
silver shine on the water. Below where
they stood was a swimming pool.
Megan pointed to it. “Another pool?
That makes three that I’ve seen, and I
can’t even count the hot tubs.”
They leaned against the railing, but he
tilted to look at her. “You’ve already
found three different pools? When did
you have time?”
“Oh, I make time for the important
things. I can show you if you like.”
“I’d love that.”
“But you’re redirecting. Why have
you been a bad boss for the last several
months?” When he sighed, she placed
her hand over his. “What happened to
you?”
The gentleness of her touch created a
safe haven around him. “That’s just it. I
don’t know. I mean, I love what I do, but
lately it’s just not satisfying. Like I’m
missing this gigantic piece of the puzzle
that is my life and it’s nowhere to be
found.”
She gasped. “Have you looked?”
“Huh?”
“Have you looked for the missing
piece? Or are you just one of those
people who talk about it and wait for
something to change on its own?”
Wow. She’d be a great motivational
speaker. Or a terrible one. “I guess I
haven’t. How do you look for something
when you don’t even know what’s
missing?”
“Maybe your company is headed in a
new direction.” The wind caught her and
like Calypso, rising from the sea, she
anchored her feet to the deck, the thin
material of her dress clinging to her legs
as possibilities flashed across her face
as clearly as if they were neon. “Oh, or
maybe you’re going to expand your
entire business. Or maybe you’re hungry
for some real adventure that has
absolutely nothing to do with your work.
Don’t you see, Alexander? You came on
this cruise to find your heart.”
He turned his hand over and grasped
hers, suddenly struck by what an unusual
woman she must be. “And you came to
lose yours.” Seconds ticked by while
each of them, complete strangers not
twelve hours ago, saw what the other
was missing.
She smiled, nodded. Her words were
breathy when she said, “Alexander, I’d
like to help you capture the wind.”
“I can’t think of a better way to spend
the week.” And in her deep green eyes,
he saw the sea, the world, the prospects
and hopes of a young woman with more
passion than patience, with more fire
than fierceness. The kind of woman who
could thoroughly wreck him. And in fact,
he was hoping that exact thing would
happen.
Chapter 4
It is a well-known fact that a
seawitch is half human and
half mermaid.
Megan was as nervous as a cat. No. She
was always as nervous as a cat; today
she was as nervous as a cat loose in the
dog pound. She wanted to help
Alexander. And she certainly wouldn’t
turn down his help in finding her
Richard, but breakfast on his balcony? It
was only last night after dinner when he
walked her to her stateroom that she
discovered he was right next door.
Right. Next. Door. She stepped out to
find a large tray in the hallway. She
knocked and tried to breathe.
He pulled the door open and she
stepped in, wishing the scent of his
cologne wasn’t so intoxicating. Wishing
his smile wasn’t so endearing. Wishing
his broad shoulders and handsome face
were of a more trollish nature. It would
make this so much easier. How was she
supposed to keep her mind on finding
her future husband with a Greek god
demanding her attention?
“You look beautiful,” he said and bent
to kiss her cheek.
Not helping. “Uh, you look beautiful,
too.” He did, dressed in khaki shorts and
a white T-shirt. Not the discount-store
variety, either. The kind you paid way
too much for but that fit like a sculpted
second skin. His feet were bare, so she
took off her sandals and discarded them
in the entryway. She dropped three
inches to her normal five feet five.
He grinned down at her. “Come on
out to the balcony. This is spectacular,
Princess.”
She stopped at the foot of his bed.
“Princess, is it?”
From behind her he tilted forward so
his breath danced over her shoulders and
throat. “Yes. And since you’ve not had
the pampering you deserve, I’ve taken it
upon myself to correct that.”
She angled to face him. “I really do
have to search for Richard.” But even to
her own ears, there was little conviction
in the statement.
“Of course.” They sat down at the
table laden with fresh roses and an array
of drink glasses. A server first filled her
water glass, then coffee, then popped a
cork on a bottle of champagne after
showing the label to Alexander.
“Champagne?” she whispered. “For
breakfast?”
He took her orange juice. “May I?”
She shrugged and he poured a portion
of the juice on top of her champagne.
“Oh. Mimosas.” She took a sip and the
citrus-sparkly concoction danced along
her taste buds. “I could get used to this.”
Alexander stopped with his fork
halfway to his mouth and grinned. “You
should. It suits you.”
She shrugged. “So does sawdust and
barn raising.”
“I understand. Those things actually
suit me, too. What do you do, Megan?
Besides captivate men on cruise ships?”
She snorted. “Right. Well, you know
us princesses, always sipping mimosas
and lounging on balconies.”
Alexander dabbed his napkin to his
mouth as the main course was served.
She took a bite and closed her eyes to
relish the moment. “I work at my
family’s hair salon. But my passion is a
blog I write.”
“What blog?”
“Miss Megan’s Beauty Secrets. I do
hair at the salon, but what I really love is
makeup. But, well, not a ton of glamour
makeup requests in southern Missouri.”
“My family is from Arkansas
originally. I still own a house there. That
makes us neighbors.”
“Do you have horses there?” She
speared a piece of fruit.
“A few. They stay at my dad’s ranch.
Every year I plan to spend more time
back home.”
She pointed at him with her fork and
closed one eye. “Chasing the wind?”
“Yes, but we were talking about you.”
“I wasn’t getting to practice my
makeup skills much at the salon, so I
started the blog. It kind of took off.
Women started contacting me and telling
me about how I boosted their
confidence. I’ve even gotten three
wedding invitations from readers.”
“You inspire. That’s an incredible
gift.” He had eaten most of his breakfast,
so he leaned back with a cup of hot
coffee.
She was full, too. Not even room for
coffee. “This was amazing, Alexander,
but I really do have to start searching.”
“Of course we do. I’ve already
started.” He pulled a paper from his
pocket and handed it to her. “This is a
list of some of the men named Richard
on the ship. Stateroom numbers, too. I’ve
taken the liberty of removing any that are
already married.”
“How did you—”
“I’m a businessman, Megan. It’s in my
skill set to obtain information. Plus,
you’d be amazed at what folks will tell
you sitting at one of the pool bars late at
night.”
“You did that?” She was stuffed, but
when the server arrived to remove their
plates, she grabbed the last pastry from
the assortment that had arrived with the
first course. No sense in letting it go to
waste.
“Yes, ma’am. Planted myself at the
Mermaid’s Tail. It’s a bar midship.” He
leaned forward and winked. “I thought
that was a fitting spot, given our goal.
Struck up as many conversations as I
could. Now, do you want the good news
or the bad news?”
She continued to stare at the paper.
“Bad news.”
“The Richardsons are having a family
reunion on board.”
“Holy cow.” She sank deeper into the
cushioned chair. “The good news?”
“They’re hosting a family get-together
tomorrow night in Crooners,
overlooking the Piazza. I got an
invitation. Couldn’t get one for the both
of us, but I was thinking you could sneak
in and meet up with me.”
“Sneak in?” The wind dried her eyes,
so she closed them a little. She tapped
the table, thinking of Grandma Trini’s
words. Wars are not won by the
fainthearted. Wars are won by those
who take the land by force. “I’ll do it.”
“Great. We’ll go right after our
massages in the Lotus Spa.”
“What?” She planted her hands firmly
on the table.
“I said it’s time for you to have some
pampering. You did agree to help me
while I’m helping you, did you not?”
“Yes, but what does one have to do
with the other?”
His smile faded, intensity framing his
eyes. “I don’t know, Princess. All I
know is pampering you makes me feel
. . . like I’m doing exactly what I’m
supposed to be doing.”
Her heart warmed at that little
confession.
“Until then, we can search the ship.
We’ve got all day today and tomorrow to
find a Richard for you. If we don’t find
the right one, we’ll assume he’s part of
the Richardson family. We’ll have them
trapped tomorrow night.”
She’d pull a deep breath if there were
any oxygen on the balcony. But there
wasn’t. His words and plan had stolen it
all. He was throwing away his vacation
to help her find her soul mate. As they
rose from the balcony with the deep blue
sea behind them, Megan had to wonder
if the tiniest piece of her heart had
slipped away as well—if so, it had gone
to the wrong man.
Chapter 5
A seawitch is a wild creature.
She holds the stars in her
hands and hides the winds in
her garment.
“I thought this would feel like work, but
it doesn’t,” Megan said.
Alexander had joined her inside the
thermal suite before their hot-stone
massages. They were dressed in their
swim attire and thick spa robes that
wrapped around the body like a cloud
straight from heaven. She was lounging
on one of the hot-tile tables in the cool
room. He’d spent every waking hour
with Megan. Though it had been great, it
had made him greedy. He wanted more.
More days like this one, more moments,
more . . . of her. “You thought this would
feel like work? The Lotus Spa? The
massage?”
She opened one eye to peer at him.
“Well, this is my industry. It’s difficult to
go into a spa and not compare it to the
one you work in. Easier here. This
whole place is in a league all its own.
By the way, you never told me about
your work.”
He stretched out on the hot stone, the
temperature a perfect caress to his cool
muscles. “It’s my industry, too.”
She threw her legs off the table and
sat up to look at him. “Really?”
“I promise, Megan.” He half smiled
and peered at her. “Alexander Andrews
never lies.”
She reached over and shook him.
“Beauty business. Arkansas. What
business do you have? Hey, Romeo. I’m
talking to you.”
He sighed, but the grin gave him
away.
“Are you Andrews Lotion? No. I
mean, seriously?”
He chuckled. “Have you tried the
eucalyptus steam room yet? It’s great for
the circulation.”
“Alexander Andrews! Are you
Andrews Lotion? Tell me right now or
I’ll . . . I’ll scream.”
He sat straight up. “That’ll be fun. Go
for it.” They faced each other, her hands
planted on her hips, so he mimicked her
posture.
She cocked her head, brows rising.
“Yes,” he said on a long breath, as if
bored with having to explain. “I’m
Andrews Lotion. Myself, my mother and
father, who still help out at the main
office, and my two sisters.”
“Lord in heaven. You’re famous.” She
fanned herself, as if she might faint.
“And your grandparents, right? I mean,
they’re the real superstars.”
“Yes. They’re retired, still live on the
farm where my grandmother first created
the formula. Our whole family is
involved except my older brother.”
“Rebel of the family?”
“Nah. Hero. He’s in the army. We’re
all really proud of him.”
She shook his shoulder. “You’re a
celebrity. At least for people in the
beauty industry.”
“And you, Princess, are ruining the
moment. You’re supposed to be enjoying
the steam rooms and saunas before your
massage.”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly relax now
that I have so many questions. Is it true
that your grandfather was a woodworker
and his hands would get cracked and
bleed and that’s why your grandmother
invented the lotion?”
He yawned. “It’s true.”
“Alexander. Are you bored with this
story? Don’t you see how incredibly
beautiful and romantic it is?”
Well, he used to see it. It really was
an amazing story, his grandmother
mixing essential oils and plant extracts
with half the ingredients in the
refrigerator until she found the perfect
combination. When had he lost the
passion for that tale? Somewhere along
the road of deadlines and bottom lines
and numbers that had to add up. He
thought about his grandparents, thought
about when he used to love that story. He
reached over and took Megan’s hand for
just a moment. “You’re right. It’s a
beautiful story. Thanks for reminding
me.”
“And romantic.”
“And romantic,” he agreed.
She stretched out on the table. “Are
they still in love?” she practically
whispered the words, her eyes closed
and her voice soft.
“Yes, Megan. They are.”
A long, slow sigh escaped her lips
and he knew the very instant all her
exuberance left her and she’d gone
somewhere else in her mind. She’d taken
a deep dive into a fairy-tale world
where women created lotion to help
their men and where people fell in love
instantly on cruise ships or by falling off
horses. It was a place Alexander didn’t
mind visiting himself. Between the cool
of the room and the warm stones against
his back, it wasn’t long before
Alexander was drifting off to sleep. A
touch on his shoulder woke him.
“Mr. Andrews, it’s time for your
massage.”
He glanced over to Megan to find
another spa employee gently shaking her
awake. It was then that he noticed
something beside him. He tilted up and
glanced down. There, his fingers were
entwined with Megan’s.
*
With her free hand, Megan brushed the
sleep from her eyes. Her other hand was
warm, fingertips practically vibrating,
and the sensation sent heat to the depths
of her stomach. Alexander lifted his
hand to reveal hers locked with it. In that
moment, with a rainforest shower in one
corner of the room and doorways
leading into areas of extreme relaxation,
Megan’s heart came alive and drifted
away from her as if pulled by an
unstoppable current.
She was led to a room where a
massage therapist had her undress and
lie on the comfortable massage table.
Warmed stones were worked over her,
creating the perfect balance of heat and
muscle-tension relief. By the time they
were through, she was a blubbering ball
of goo. How on earth could she put on
her game face and find her Richard? She
could barely think straight. And the
strangest part of all, it was as if earlier,
she had been meant to wake up with her
fingers threaded with Alexander’s.
*
Three hours later and with one sneak-in
complete, Megan looked over the
attendees of the family reunion—her
prospects—as they lounged in Crooners.
It’s not that she was a shallow person by
nature, but good heavens, these short,
wide Richardson women spawned short,
wide Richardson sons.
“I see you made it, Princess.”
Alexander towered over the entire room.
She towered over half of it.
If Megan kept frowning, her face
would set that way. That’s how old
maids and cat ladies started out,
Grandma Trini had assured her. “I
slipped past the blue-haired lady at the
door by following some of the waitstaff
when they arrived with the ice sculpture.
It’s beautiful, by the way.” She flicked a
quick glance to Alexander. No more than
that. Because she would invariably
begin comparing the wide-girthed,
balding Richardsons in the room to him.
And that was as shallow as it was unfair.
Alexander was one of those men who
caught your eye in the airport or on a
plane somewhere. The kind of man who
graced the covers of magazines about
manliness and testosterone. The kind of
man . . .
“Hey there.”
Megan turned to find a glassy-eyed,
fishbowl-shaped man behind her. He
was three inches shorter, but with her
heels off, they might see eye to eye.
“Hello,” she said, her heart thumping.
“Don’t think we’ve met.” His gaze
trailed down over her and though Megan
didn’t usually mind a gentleman’s
glance, it made her feel exposed. Of
course, she had crashed his party.
Alexander thrust a hand out. “I’m
Alexander. This is my friend Megan. Are
you married?”
Megan sucked a breath and nearly
choked.
The man gave him a fleeting—and if
she wasn’t wrong—disgusted look. “No,
pal. But you’re not my type.”
Megan disliked him instantly. Even if
his name was Richardson. There was a
dismissiveness to his manner that
suggested he’d rather put others down
than build anyone up—something Megan
couldn’t abide. A server came by and he
barked something at her. He rocked back
on his heels. “I put this little party
together, and when Cal Richardson does
something, Cal Richardson does it right.
You have to let people know who’s in
charge.”
Megan wanted to vomit. Alexander
seemed amused by the whole thing.
Cal swigged his wine then pointed the
empty glass at Alexander. “You the guy
my great aunt invited? Said you were
some lotion mogul or something.”
Alexander nodded. “She’s a fine
lady.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “She’s a kooky
old bat. Needs to go to an old folks’
home, but refuses to leave the house my
great uncle built for her. He told her he’d
build a bedroom on the first floor before
he kicked the bucket, but that didn’t
happen. She can’t last there more than
another year or two; that arthritis in her
knees will teach her. She won’t be able
to climb the stairs.” Cal seemed so
dismissive about his great aunt’s plight,
Megan hoped he’d have a coronary right
there.
She turned away from him and
focused her attention on the woman at
the front door. One of the waitstaff
helped her get situated on a stool he’d
brought from the bar. Standing and
greeting the guests must have tired her
out. Sadness spread through Megan’s
system and her eyes slowly came up to
find Alexander. She whispered, “I’d like
to leave here, now.”
Alexander’s eyes were on the blue-
haired lady as well, and Megan
wondered if he saw what she saw. A
woman whose world was being stripped
away by age and arthritis. A woman who
loved where she lived and was willing
to fight to stay there. A woman who
wouldn’t give up.
Her hand warmed and instantly
Megan felt stronger. She glanced down;
her fingers were twined with
Alexander’s. How did that keep
happening? And every time it did, why
did she want to capture it? Keep it; hold
it like a ship in a bottle?
As they slipped out the front door,
Alexander stopped and whispered
something in the older lady’s ear. The
words caused her to first open her mouth
in an O shape, then slide off her stool
and take Alexander’s face in her
wrinkled hands. She placed a kiss on
each of his cheeks, studied his eyes for a
long moment, and whispered “thank
you.”
Megan’s eyes were glistening when
they left Crooners and walked, hand in
hand, through the Piazza. But she kept
one eye on him. She needed to. This was
dangerous. He was dangerous. And if
she wasn’t careful, she’d throw out
Grandma Trini’s advice and dive
headfirst into Ocean Alexander.
What would that be like, she
wondered as they strolled the hall until a
door led them outside on the deck,
where Movies Under the Stars
®
was just
beginning. She smelled popcorn in the
air and watched as couples and families
settled into the cushioned lounge chairs
for the feature film. Blankets were given
to combat the night breeze, but to Megan,
the air was perfect. Cool, refreshing, and
cleansing. She paused at the upper level
and overlooked the people below who
surrounded the swimming pool and
gazed up at the massive movie screen.
“You’re quiet, Megan.”
She faced Alexander fully. “I can’t do
this.” The words were mumbled, but
held the force of bullets.
He moved closer, blocking the wind
that lifted her hair.
He said nothing, so she filled the
silence. “Alexander, I can’t spend time
with you and expect to find Richard. It
. . . it won’t . . .” They’d already spent
time together equivalent to several dates
in the normal world. Already, she’d
thought of him as she’d fallen asleep and
rose to thoughts of him in the morning.
Grandma Trini would flip if she knew.
Megan realized something was
distracting her. She glanced down to find
his fingertips trickling over her arms,
moving slowly, first up, then down. And
she’d had something she’d needed to
say, something important. And if he’d
stop . . . just stop . . .
And then he did. Alexander stopped
moving and breathing. She felt it as
completely as if he’d been using her own
lungs for air. The stars flickered above
them, the lights of the ship twinkled
below them. Wind against his back
pushed him closer to her. And his eyes
studied every motion, every movement
of her gaze as it tried desperately to
make sense of what was going on. He
was a rock, immovable, unstoppable,
hard marble, a place you could lean, a
place you could rest. He was a mountain
and she was a river, moving, sometimes
raging, sometimes lazy. They were the
perfect match, she and he. One stone
solid, one lucid. A perfect complement,
a perfect marriage.
The very thought made her step back.
She needed equilibrium, needed to
remember the goal, the purpose.
Grandma Trini had paid good money for
Megan to come on this ship, money
she’d dug out of her backyard in seven
mason jars. Seven. The number of
completion. No matter what, Megan
couldn’t let Grandma Trini down. “What
did you say to the woman at the family
reunion, Great-Aunt Richardson?”
He shrugged it off. “It doesn’t
matter.”
He was a multifaceted man, Megan
realized, and quickly on the heels of that
realization came another. She’d like to
spend a lifetime uncovering those
nuances that made him who he was. “I
insist you tell me.”
His eyes sparkled with the perfect
combination of magic and mystery. “You
insist?”
“I absolutely do.”
A dimple appeared on one side of his
face. “I told her that I’d make sure she
didn’t have to leave her house until she
was good and ready.”
Megan bit back the sensation rising
within her heart. It was a dangerous one,
one that could wreck her perfect plan.
“Did you really?”
“It’s not that big of a deal. So, she
needs a bedroom on the first floor. Done.
Small price to pay for someone’s
independence and dignity. Wouldn’t you
agree?”
She nodded.
“Besides, I wouldn’t want my
grandmother to have to face that.”
“But you don’t even know that
woman.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe
it’s my first step toward capturing the
wind.”
Megan couldn’t explain why her eyes
were suddenly filled with tears, why her
hands found their way to Alexander’s
chest and rested there against his beating
heart. He was warm and wonderful, both
inside and out, and in today’s world that
was rare. “You never finished telling me
about Aquanna.”
With the slowness of mountain
molasses, Alexander’s hands slid down
Megan’s arms, slipped gently to her
back, and created a perfect cradle to
hold her. His thighs pressed against hers,
heat rising from his powerful limbs and
blazing through the silk of her dress.
His hands were two fireballs against
her lower back, radiating heat from her
spine to her stomach. “It’s said that when
she first saw Emerald Princess rising
above the white foam and glistening tide
in the clear waters of the Caribbean,
Aquanna was so moved by the beauty of
the ship, she made a vow. When two
people who are purest of heart take their
first step onto the gangway, Aquanna
would set in motion their destiny. To fall
in love.”
Megan swallowed.
The arms around her tightened,
pressing her closer to him. He smelled
like the sea and cologne and the faintest
hint of popcorn. Heat rose between
them, creating a dizzying euphoria and
causing all the scents to meld into
something she hoped she’d never forget.
It was enchanting.
And yet. It was real. Alexander was
real. He wasn’t some Richard-named
dream created by Grandma Trini. He
was right here. And he was quite
possibly the most incredible man she’d
ever met. When his tongue darted out to
moisten his mouth, her gaze stalled there.
She wanted to taste that mouth, to feel
those lips, and before she could stop
herself, Megan tilted up.
His eyes became fire on her, no
hesitation, but a flickering question
landed there and disappeared. She knew
where his uncertainty stemmed from. She
had it herself. He wasn’t Richard. But
she wasn’t backing away. Her hand slid
up, index finger tracing the line of his
lower lip. It was soft, just like she’d
known it would be. Before she could
stop herself, she gently covered his
mouth with hers and there, on the top
deck of Emerald Princess, she kissed
the man she shouldn’t.
It was a gentle brush at first, but,
tasting him, she simply wanted more. If
she could, she’d climb inside his heart
and look around, see just what made him
tick. He was the kind of man who would
spend a vacation helping a woman fall in
love with someone else. He was the kind
of man who offered assistance to old
ladies. He was the kind of man who
knew how to use his mouth like a lethal
thing. His tongue grazed hers as he
shifted, making an even more intimate
place for her against him. Fear of
combustion made her drag her mouth
from his. She leaned back, feeling both
drunk and breathless. When their eyes
locked and held, she saw the answers to
questions she didn’t even know she’d
had. He licked his lips. And she watched
helplessly. Already regretting the fact
they were no longer kissing.
Something solid hit her from behind,
causing her to jolt and Alexander to
stiffen territorially. For a moment, she
didn’t understand what had happened,
but when male voices rose around her,
she quickly caught up. Someone had
knocked a man into them. He was
apologizing, and Alexander was trying
to brush it off, brush him off.
When she heard, “Please forgive me,
ma’am,” she knew that was her cue to
tell him it was okay. Then he’d leave
and she could get back to Alexander and
the fireworks their lips created. Megan
turned—difficult with Alexander’s arms
holding her tightly—and glanced up.
To the bluest eyes she’d ever seen.
He was tall, Alexander’s height, with
blondish-brown hair that curled around
his forehead and neck. Her mouth
opened, but nothing came out. She was
stunned. Completely stunned by the
ocean eyes and sweet smile. And that’s
when she realized. “Rich? Rich
Malcolm?”
His face lit. “Megan Cooper? Is that
you?”
She shook her head. “I thought . . . I
mean, I thought . . .”
He nodded, knowingly. “I know.
Everyone did. My plane went down near
Cape Horn. I was rescued, but comatose
for months. It’s great to see you.”
She moved to hug him. “You too. I’m
so relieved. The whole town grieved for
you.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I
know they did. I feel terrible about that.
My folks couldn’t stay in the area after I
went missing. It was too hard on them.
How are you?”
A hand tightened on hers. “I’m great.”
That’s when the kiss and Alexander and
everything that had happened rushed into
her mind.
Alexander moved to stand beside her.
“This is Alexander, my new friend.”
He thrust a hand in front of him.
“Alexander, this is Rich—” Her
world rocked right off its axis. This was
Richard. When she realized the ship
must have been spinning, she reached
behind her for something to grip.
“Whoa there,” one of them said, but
Megan wasn’t sure who.
Her gaze dropped to the wooden deck
to make sure it was still beneath her feet.
But her eyes fell to her forearms. There,
on one side, Alexander had a tight grip.
On the other, Richard.
“You okay?” That voice she knew. It
was Alexander, and the words gave her
a bit of strength.
“I’m . . . yes. I’m okay.”
She faced him, but he knew what was
coming. She could see it in his eyes,
sense it in his posture. “Alexander, I
might need to catch up with Richard. It’s
been years. He used to drive me to the
lake each morning before school.”
Richard grinned. “You’d come
running down your driveway to meet me,
that copper hair flying behind you. Half
the time you’d forget a towel.”
“I was just a freshman and training
for the swim team. Rich was a senior
with his own sailboat. We were
friends.” She directed her next inquiry to
the man she hadn’t seen since they were
kids. “Are you here alone, Rich?” Her
hand glanced down to his ring finger. No
band.
He ran the same hand through his hair
and Megan could see the strain of
sadness in his gaze. “I am utterly alone.
Was supposed to be on my honeymoon.”
She pressed a hand to her heart. “I’m
so sorry.”
Alexander’s grip tightened on her
hand. “I need to talk to you. It’s
important, Megan.”
Richard’s voice interrupted them.
“We could meet for coffee in the
morning, Meg.”
She hesitated for only a second then
reached out and touched Richard’s arm.
Richard. The only boy she’d ever known
who understood her love for the water.
“Richard, please don’t leave, just
give me a quick minute, okay?” Words
were rushing from her mouth like an
overflowing volcano. “I mean, if you’re
not on your way somewhere.”
“No, I’m not. Honestly, I’ve spent
half my time in my stateroom. I’m not
even sure how I ended up out here
tonight. Guess I was meant to run into
you. Serendipitous, right?” His gaze then
flashed from her to Alexander, obviously
trying to gauge the dynamic and probably
not wanting to squelch a budding
relationship. “I’ll just wait over here.”
He walked to the doorway and Megan
turned and took Alexander’s hands in
hers.
Before she could speak, he said, “I
know what you’re thinking.”
She straightened her spine, refusing to
admit her heart was cracking in two.
“This is what you signed on for, Romeo,
remember?” She tried to sound strong.
He threw out a long breath. “Just
because you know him doesn’t mean
he’s the one.”
“It doesn’t mean he’s not,” she
countered.
“Make me a promise.”
“What?”
“No matter what happens, you’ll
spend the day with me in Roatán.”
Her mind rushed. “Why?”
“Because I booked us an extreme zip-
lining excursion and no matter what, it’s
an experience you need to have.”
She hesitated.
“Please, Megan.” His hands
squeezed. “If you do, I swear to walk
right out of your life the same way I
walked in.”
She didn’t know why those words
caused her nose to tingle and her eyes to
burn. “How’s that?”
“Without any caution and without any
thought to what might happen to my heart
after.”
A lone tear abandoned her, sliding
down her cheek.
Alexander glanced toward the man
waiting at the door. “Maybe he’s your
Richard, maybe not. But I guess you
won’t be satisfied until you know.”
She nodded because her voice would
be as much a traitor as her tear.
“I’ll be waiting, Princess. But come
the morning when we make port in
Roatán, you’re mine for the day.”
She swallowed. Nodded. What else
was there to do? “Roatán. I’m yours.”
But the words were husky and filled
with emotion.
“Meet me on the dock beside the
Mahogany Bay sign. If you’re not there,
I’ll know that in your heart you’ve made
your choice.”
Made her choice? She only just saw
Richard. But Grandma Trini was never
wrong. “I’ll be there.” There were two
more days until they’d reach Roatán.
Plenty of time for things like choosing
one’s life partner. And if she didn’t
choose Richard, where would that leave
her? Alexander wasn’t promising a
happily ever after. They’d only just met
and yes, so maybe there were
inexplicable fireworks, and maybe it did
feel like they’d already known each
other forever. That didn’t mean he was
interested in anything more than an
onboard romance. She was here to meet
her soul mate. Not to have a fling.
Alexander kissed her cheek. For the
longest moment, his gaze trailed over her
features as if to capture her inside his
mind’s eye. A straightening of his spine,
a commiserating nod. She watched him
walk away, strolling along the deck, and
it was the saddest thing she’d ever seen.
Behind her, Richard was waiting.
Chapter 6
Once a seawitch makes a
place for you in her heart,
you will have it for eternity.
Megan opened the balcony door so she
could see the glorious landscape of
Roatán beyond her cozy stateroom. It
was more mountainous than she’d
imagined for a tiny island in the
Caribbean. Lush, green, dotted with
terra-cotta-roofed houses and with a
sprawling beach that hugged luminescent
blue-green water. Megan crawled back
into bed where she could watch the
breeze play with the gossamer curtains
of her balcony door. Her mind turned to
her next-door neighbor, Alexander. He’d
been true to his word, leaving her time
to reacquaint herself with Richard.
They’d spent the first day in port touring
the Mayan ruins of Tulum. The second
day, in Belize, they’d visited the howler
monkey sanctuary. And though it had all
been wonderful, her heart ached because
at each adventure, she found herself
wishing Alexander were there. She’d
caught herself glancing around, studying
faces, trying to find him in the crowds.
Richard had been a perfect host and
perfect gentleman. Same Richard she’d
known from all those years ago. Sweet,
caring, pointing out the baby howler
monkey as it climbed down a tree limb
to get a better look at the crowd, making
a place for her to stand where she could
best see the dolphins playing around the
bow of the ship as they waited to board,
buying her a tiny stuffed monkey at the
gift shop in port. But she’d have rather
experienced it with Alexander.
Heavens, who knew a cruise could
cause one soul so much joy and so much
uncertainty? She wished she really were
a princess or even a seawitch. All-
knowing and hopeful. Then, maybe she’d
have some inkling about what to do.
Today she’d spend with Alexander and
that made her heart swell. Zip-lining, no
less. She’d always wanted to try but was
scared of heights. Now, she was
committed to sailing the jungle canopy
on a chain hanging off a wire. Well, that
was likely easier than knowing what to
do with the Richard/Alexander situation.
Megan dressed and made her way to the
dock, her heart hammering as she
neared.
A large sign with the words
Mahogany Bay scrolled across it
welcomed guests to Roatán. There,
beside the sign surrounded by an array
of lush green palms and colorful
flowers, Alexander was waiting for her.
He lounged against the railing. Hands
in the pockets of his shorts, he looked
perfectly at ease. Until she got closer
and she could see the tension edging his
eyes. Before she could get there, he’d
glanced at his wristwatch at least three
times. He couldn’t see her; she’d tucked
behind a family carrying a bundle of
beach necessities.
“Don’t you know you’re on
Caribbean time now? Wristwatches are
useless,” she said as she darted out from
behind the group and came to a stop at
his feet.
Relief rushed over his features. He
snagged her arm, a smile catching the
edge of his mouth. “I was scared you
weren’t coming.”
“I was scared you might have
changed your mind and given my ticket
to someone else.” That wasn’t a lie. As
she’d left her stateroom, the thought had
struck her . . . what if some other single
woman had discovered Alexander?
What if instantly they’d had a connection
and he’d spent the last two days with
her? Terribly unfair for her to stake such
a claim over the man—especially when
she’d spent those two days getting to
know Richard again—but she couldn’t
help herself.
They worked their way through a
stream of shops that she simply had to
spend more time visiting after the zip
line. She’d purchase Honduran coffee
for Grandma Trini, hand-carved bowls
for her parents and her sister, Kalie.
Kalie was a hoarder when it came to
anything and everything that had been
carved, created, or stamped outside the
US. She’d often drag Megan along on
yard-sale adventures. More stuff, she
didn’t need, but Megan couldn’t possibly
travel the Caribbean and not bring
something back for her sis from each of
the ports. It would be a travesty. In fact,
she’d already decided to send Kalie next
year on the same cruise. Or one similar.
She could put her tips for the year in a
piggy bank and surprise Kalie.
A sexy male voice interrupted her
thoughts. “You look like you’re
scheming.”
She smiled up at Alexander. “I am.”
This was so easy. Her hand in his. His
excitement meeting her own. How they
seemed to instinctively know which
direction the other wanted to turn as they
moseyed along the island street. She’d
wanted coffee. Hadn’t told him, yet he’d
led her right to the awning-covered
coffee shop.
While they waited for their hot
drinks, he snagged her chin between his
finger and thumb. “You look sad,
Megan.”
Confused was more like it. “I’m . . .
not. I just—”
He stepped closer, gently pressed his
body to hers. “You know, my
grandmother didn’t want to share the
formula with the world.”
Megan blinked.
“She’d created it for my grandfather.
He’d come in from his woodworking
shop and his hands would be so dry and
cracked, they’d bleed in the winter. It
was her love for him that drove her to
begin blending oils and plant extracts
from her garden. It was incredibly
healing. His hands recovered in the first
few weeks.”
“Why wouldn’t she want to share
that?” Megan asked.
“Because she’d created it for him.
And she was scared. Afraid that if the
formula really took off—like she knew
in her heart it would—that her life, her
world, her very existence would
change.”
“How so?”
“My family never had an abundance
of wealth, but they did okay. Grandma
was a little bit scared of money. Afraid
it would change her, change those of us it
touched.”
“But it didn’t?”
“Not really. It made paying the bills
easier. But the root of who a person is
can’t be altered by something like
money. My family has good roots,
Megan. We’re grounded.”
“But your lives would have changed
for the better. Surely your grandmother
could see that. More money, less stress.”
“Yes. But that doesn’t make change
any less frightening.”
Well, that was an understatement.
“What made her decide to go ahead?”
Megan asked.
“My grandfather. He told her the best
things in life were buried under tons of
risk. He claimed life was like a bucket
full of rare jewels that are covered in
dirt. You can live in the dirt, stay near
the top where things are safe, and no one
will stop you. But if you really want to
get to the gems, you have to . . .”
“Dive in?”
He grinned in answer.
“You have to dig through the dirt to
get to the treasure?” Her voice lifted a
bit because she understood.
“Exactly. And once in a while, a
gentle rain will come along and . . .” He
let his words trail off so she could finish
the sentence.
“Will wash away some of the dirt for
you?” That would make it easier, she
supposed. Digging in dirt was messy
business. And what did it have to do
with her and her situation? Everything.
She just didn’t know how the pieces fit.
*
If Megan didn’t die right here, right now,
she’d surely have a heart attack.
“Keep your eyes on me.” Alexander
gripped her shoulders. “Princess, you
got this. You’re so much braver than you
know.” His eyes flecked with more
assurance than should be possible. He
was strength. He was marble. He
wouldn’t let anything happen to her.
Megan drew a breath and nodded for
the attendant to push her off the platform.
Her eyes stayed on Alexander—still
standing on the wooden deck, one hand
wrapped around the railing—until the
rush of wind and the zing of the line
demanded Megan’s attention. She
chanced a glance forward and then down
. . . and was captivated. Below her, the
treetops, green and perfect, sailed by.
She could scarcely breathe from the
excitement and the whoosh of adrenaline
taking hold of her body. Off to her right
was a lake and to her left more
vegetation. This was like flying. And
sailing. And falling. It was magical and
wonderful and she thought maybe this
was what the angels felt as they rose
from earth to heaven. Wind kissed her
face, the sun shone on her arms and legs;
she was an angel, free and soaring above
the earth. Megan’s momentum slowed as
she neared the next tree platform and the
grinning attendant. For a quick moment
she wondered if he ever tired of seeing
exuberant tourists with their wide
smiles. Her face tingled. She could feel
the color in her cheeks and the lightness
in her heart. Her eyes were practically
dancing out of her head.
He pulled her onto the platform
where she drew a huge breath, hoping it
would slow her racing heart. She hadn’t
screamed, hadn’t fainted dead away like
she’d thought she might. As the tanned
young man worked with her harness, he
asked, “Ready for more?”
She nodded, wondering if she might
faint—not from fear—but from pure
excitement. Her legs were shaky but she
knew they’d hold her. Megan rested a
hand on the tree, a massive thing with a
trunk that seemed as big as a house.
There was a zing behind her, and she
knew Alexander was making his way to
the platform as well. She turned in time
to see him land. His face grinning, his
body looking perfectly suited to the
rigors of treetop travel.
She hadn’t spoken yet, but when he
gripped her in his hands, her mouth
opened and words poured out. “Did you
see the water? That was . . . I’ve never
. . . I mean . . .”
He grabbed her shoulders, planted a
quick kiss on her lips, and chuckled.
“My thoughts exactly.”
The brush of his mouth on hers
brought a bit of stability to her. Now, she
could complete a thought. She gripped
his arms. “I will never ever ever forget
this. My whole life. And one day when
I’m old and living in a nursing home, I’ll
talk about this. Flying in the treetops.”
His brows dipped in a frown.
“You’re not scared anymore?”
She rolled her eyes. “Terrified. I
might completely freeze at any moment
and end up curled on the platform in a
fetal position sucking my thumb. But it’s
worth it! This is—” she gestured in a
wide arc. “This is the most incredible
thing I’ve ever done.”
“It’s pretty amazing.”
“I want to ride roller coasters. I want
to try bungee jumping.”
“Slow down, Megan. Let’s finish this
adventure first.” He laughed. The
attendant led them to the other side of the
tree where another zip line waited.
“We’ve got several more runs. You
ready?”
Megan bobbed her head. In an instant,
she was flying again.
The last zip line carried them over the
salty water and deposited them on the
beach. Today, she’d conquered the
world. Today she wasn’t just a princess,
but a warrior princess, fresh from battle
with an adventure lust that would carry
her for the rest of her life. Today, she’d
said hello to danger and good-bye to
fear.
*
They sat at a beachside cabana bar to
have a cold drink and watch as sun
worshippers folded their brightly
colored blankets and started making
their way back to the ship. “Roatán’s my
favorite.” Megan sipped from the straw
in her fruity drink.
She looked beautiful and innocent and
perfect. And Alexander knew his heart
belonged to her. He’d given her that
flush in her cheeks, that elation in her
eyes, the smile, the excitement that
caused her voice to pitch upward with
her joy. “Shall we stop off at the real
estate office before heading back to the
ship?”
Her eyes came up quickly, batted
furiously, then dropped back to the drink.
“How’s Richard?” he said, knowing
they had to tackle this subject sooner or
later.
It was crazy for a woman to spend
just one week deciding with whom she’d
spend the rest of her life. It was crazy
that he’d seen her and knew . . .
somehow he knew she was exactly what
he’d been missing in his life. The
lifestyle of Alexander Andrews offered
him plenty of company where beautiful
women were concerned. Gorgeous
women weren’t in short supply in the
circles he moved in. Women like Megan
were. With her zeal for life, her tender
heart for others, her very spirit, she was
everything he wanted and possibly
nothing he could have.
But they’d known each other less than
a week. Of course, his grandfather still
told the story—with a spark in his eyes,
no less—of how he first laid eyes on
Alexander’s grandmother and mumbled
to his best friend, “You see that girl?
She’s the one I’m going to marry.”
Love at first sight. Maybe it was as
real as the essential oils that made
Andrews Lotion a household staple.
Maybe love transcended time and space.
Maybe it landed on whom it chose when
it chose and maybe, just maybe, he was a
victim.
Megan chewed her lip, her brows a
slash above her eyes. She hadn’t
answered.
“Megan?”
“He’s . . . very nice. Handsome, like I
remember. It makes sense.” Her gaze
trailed to the rainbow beach umbrellas
beyond them, where whitecapped waves
rolled then gurgled at the clear water’s
edge.
Alexander’s heart took a dive deeper
into his chest. She was talking herself
into Richard. “But?”
She huffed, dropping her hands flat to
the table. “But you.”
It was all she said, and all she needed
to. She hadn’t made up her mind and that
was okay. He still had time. “Have
dinner with me tonight.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but he
stopped her with the brush of his
fingertip across her parted lips.
“Please, Princess.”
A slow half smile touched her face.
“You make it hard for a girl to resist.”
“You make it hard for a man to
concentrate on anything else.”
“Dinner,” she agreed.
And Alexander knew he had one last
opportunity to win the heart of the
woman he’d just met.
*
She needed to get a grip. Richard was
real. Someone she’d loved as a kid.
Alexander was a fantasy. He called
her Princess and treated her as such. But
that was fairy tale and a real world
awaited her when she returned home. A
world where her job was to wash and
style women’s hair and listen to their
problems and make them feel beautiful.
There was a real world where she lived
on solid ground and swam in the lake
where she might come up out of the
water with dirt and bits of floating
leaves and other debris in her hair,
compliments of the frequent Ozark
Mountain storms.
There was no Neptune’s Pool, no
Sabatini’s. No perfect fruity drinks with
umbrellas perched on the edges. No
Alexander.
Her heart ached at the thought. He
was a fairy tale wrapped in flesh and if
she could grab Aquanna by the throat
and punch her in the face right now,
she’d do it. She could. She had taken
four months of karate. She had mad
fighting skills.
But, Megan could hardly blame
Aquanna. It was Megan herself who
opened her heart to the man from
Arkansas who—despite his obvious
wealth—just seemed like a good ol’ boy.
One who rode horses on his
grandfather’s farm. One who could enjoy
the fireworks at a small-town display
and eat cotton candy at a local fair. And
one who could take her to Paris on a
whim. So many conflicting thoughts
surged through her mind, she stepped
onto her balcony and stared out over the
water.
When something flashed alongside the
ship, she craned her neck to see. Could it
be Aquanna? Or just a school of silvery
fish? She lifted her hands in question, as
if the sea would part and there Aquanna
would rise from the depths to offer her
advice.
“I mean, it’s obvious that Richard is
perfect for me,” she whispered as if the
seawitch were right there and ready to
hear Megan’s plea. “He’s from my
hometown, even if he doesn’t live there
now. We know all the same people from
high school. Of course, he never
bothered to go back . . . or let folks in
town know he’d survived the ordeal
years ago. Still, he’s a hometown boy.
Plus, he loves the water.”
Megan glanced at the clock and
realized she was already running late.
She hurried inside the stateroom and—
for a woman who had a lot of
monumental choices to make—she felt
strangely calm as she prepared to go
meet Alexander. Tonight’s dinner was at
Crown Grill so she’d dress in formal
attire. Her grandma had sent her with a
beautiful antique gown that had tiny
pearls sewn on the bodice. She
shimmied into it and realized . . . there
was no way to fasten the tiny buttons on
the back. Megan chewed her cheek.
Alexander was right next door . . .
No. She shook the thought from her
mind and rushed to the phone, the soft
lace of the gown swishing as she moved.
She grabbed the receiver and punched a
button.
“Room service, how may I help
you?”
“I . . . uh, well . . . I need someone to
button my gown. It’s an antique thing and
—”
“No worries, Miss Cooper,” the
attendant said with a lovely accent that
Megan could have placed if she were a
more worldly kind of girl. “I will send
someone immediately.”
Megan breathed a sigh of relief.
“Thank you. I have dinner reservations.”
“Of course.”
Within fifteen minutes she was
buttoned, retouched her makeup, and
headed out the door feeling like
Cinderella on the way to the ball. She’d
left her purse in the stateroom; who
needed one? No one. It was the beauty of
being at sea, a complete departure from
life and all its responsibilities.
It wasn’t until she was stepping out of
the elevator that she made a startling
discovery. Megan lifted the hem of her
dress and stared down at her bare feet. A
sound that was neither a cough nor a huff
escaped her mouth. How on earth had
she left without her shoes?
Two of the ship’s officers were just
walking by as she lowered her gown.
They stopped when she didn’t answer
their customary friendly greeting. “Miss,
are you okay?”
If she tried to get back to the
stateroom, she’d certainly be late. “I
have dinner reservations,” she fumbled
through the words.
One officer frowned. “Can we help
you find your dining room?”
“Uh.” She shook her head. “No. I
mean I left my purse, everything in the
room.”
They both nodded, knowingly. “Yes,
once the ship has left port, we usually
see women no longer carrying their
purses within a couple days. That’s
when we know they are truly enjoying
their at-sea experience. They’ve left all
the responsibilities behind and are fully
relaxed.”
The other grinned. “By the end of the
cruise, no one carries their bags. It’s one
way we know we’ve done our job
well.”
She stared at the gold tag on one of
the officers’ crisp white uniforms. His
name was about fourteen letters long and
she’d surely mangle it if she attempted to
say it. “No, sir, you don’t understand. I
left everything in the room.” With that,
her brows rose and she tilted the bottom
edge of her dress up.
The officer glanced down. For a few
moments he stared at her pink-polished
toes then cleared his throat. “Oh. I see.”
He looked to the right and the left and
leaned closer and whispered, “No one
will know. Your gown covers your feet.”
The other officer smiled. “Go to
dinner. Have a marvelous time. Your
shoes will be waiting for you when you
return to your stateroom.”
*
She’d met Alexander in the entryway of
Crown Grill. He looked handsome, as
always, in his dress shirt and jacket,
dark eyes sparkling. They’d laughed and
visited over dinner and dessert and
everything about the night seemed
perfect. Except, of course, the fact that
she was a Missouri hillbilly
masquerading as a seawitch and hadn’t
even bothered to wear shoes.
After dinner, they passed through the
Piazza, where a lively show entertained
guests. The laughter and applause
followed them as hand in hand
Alexander and Megan walked outside,
where a star-filled night waited as if
only for them.
“You purposely kept the conversation
light at dinner,” she said, giving him a
sidelong glance.
He turned to face her. “You noticed
that?”
“I feel as though I’ve gotten to know
you pretty well.”
He lifted her hands in his and cradled
them between their bodies. “And I feel
as though I’d need several lifetimes to
get to know everything about you.”
She laughed. “I’m not that interesting,
believe me.”
“Megan, I need to tell you something.
Something I should have told you when
we first met.”
She pulled one of her hands from his
and placed it over his mouth. “Wait. I
need to tell you something first. You’ve
made these last days incredible. And
even though I know Grandma Trini is
going to kill me, I really want to . . . I’d
like to give dating you a chance. If
you’re still interested in that.”
“Interested? Are you kidding me? It’s
all I want. But I have to be honest,
Megan. I’m not going to be satisfied with
dating you for long.”
She sucked a breath.
He chuckled. “What I mean is, I’ve
waited a lifetime for you. And I didn’t
even know it. We have time to get to
know one another, but sweetheart, you’re
the woman of my dreams. And I’m not a
patient man.”
“So, we move forward?”
He nodded. “What about Richard?”
“Grandma Trini is going to kill me.
But I have to live my own life.”
Alexander drew her into an embrace
and kissed her like he meant it.
She leaned back, dizzy. “What were
you going to tell me?”
He drew her closer. “I was adopted
by the Andrews. My birth mother was a
young girl who didn’t feel she’d be able
to care for a newborn.”
Megan touched his cheek.
“Alexander, I don’t care about that . . .
any of that.”
“Her name was Amanda . . .
Richards.”
Megan drew a quick breath. “Why
didn’t you tell me?”
It was a while before he answered. “I
didn’t want you falling in love with a
name. I wanted you to fall for me,
Megan. And when Richard showed up, I
didn’t tell you because I figured you
wouldn’t believe me.”
“You were my Richard all along,” she
whispered.
“Offering to help you search for him
gave me a great way to spend time with
you, time for us to get to know one
another. Can you forgive me?”
“You lied for the sake of honesty. So
we could build an honest relationship,
not one based on the prophecy of an old
lady.”
He nodded.
“I forgive you. Plus, I have a secret.
Tonight, even though I’m dressed in this
antique lace gown—”
“Which is quite beautiful,” he
interrupted then dropped a kiss on her
lips.
“Thank you. As I was saying, I’m
dressed, but there is a very specific
piece of clothing I’m not wearing.”
He blinked, then his eyes trailed
down over her.
Megan blushed but also felt
emboldened by the night, the man, the
stars. She stepped back and grabbed the
lower part of her dress. Slowly, she
lifted it.
His eyes focused on her naked feet
then his gaze danced up to her face. “I’ll
admit that’s not what I was expecting.”
But he joined her laughter and threaded
an arm around her waist.
“Why not?” she coaxed.
He kissed the side of her head as they
walked. “Because mermaids never wear
shoes.”
*
It was six months later when Alexander
Andrews and Megan Cooper wed at the
villa he’d purchased on the island of
Roatán. A Princess Cruises ship had
carried the wedding party to the villa
and a Princess Cruises ship would carry
them home.
In those months preceding the
wedding, Alexander had become a better
boss, according to Margery. Megan was
able to quit the salon and devote her
time to her beauty blog. Life was good.
Even if she was a hillbilly and he was a
lotion mogul. Even if their relationship
had grown out of his desire to help her
find her soul mate. They were a perfect
match, and with him, she felt like a true
princess. Not just that first week but
every single day. And though she didn’t
think her heart could contain any more
love . . . she knew their fairy tale was
just beginning.
Megan stood barefoot at the floor-to-
ceiling window overlooking their
glistening swimming pool and the guests
gathering to watch her walk down the
aisle with the man she loved. Her
wedding dress dusted the tops of her
feet. Her sister, Kalie, stood at her side.
“You sure about this no-shoes thing? I
mean it is a wedding, even if it is
poolside,” Kalie asked, her long hair—
as blond as Megan’s was red—tied with
a ribbon and a colorful tropical flower.
“I’m sure.” She tilted the dress and
there her pink sparkling toes wiggled.
Kalie rolled her eyes. “At least
Romeo gave you your own pool. Not to
mention the incredible beach.”
They both took in the view of deep,
blue-green water and gentle waves.
Megan hugged her sister. “I’m glad
you’re here.”
“Of course. I mean, I could have gone
zip-lining today, but I chose this. By the
way, I wanted to tell you thanks for the
cruise and thanks for inviting Richard.”
It had seemed good and right with the
world to invite Richard to the wedding.
But that wasn’t the only reason he was
there. Grandma Trini had experienced
yet another dream. This one involving
Kalie.
“And where is Romeo, anyway?”
Kalie toyed with the ribbon in her hair.
“And why are you planning to wear that
scarf during the ceremony? You didn’t
explain it at the rehearsal.”
Megan picked up the scarf she’d
worn the first night she’d had dinner
with Alexander. She thought about the
story of Aquanna. “Because a knot tied
by a seawitch and given to a sailor
means a soft southwesterly wind. Two
knots means a strong wind and three
knots means a tempest. To sailors, these
magic knots that controlled the wind
meant a safe voyage, a successful
adventure.”
Kalie stared at her for a long moment.
“Uh-huh.”
“When I met Alexander, he was trying
to capture the wind. Today, as we wed,
I’ll put three knots in the scarf and give
it to him.”
“Because you’re the seawitch who
has tamed the wind for him?”
Megan smiled and let the scarf slip
through her fingers, loving the feel of the
smooth, cool silk. “That’s what I thought,
but he corrected me on it.”
Kalie frowned. “How so?”
Megan threaded her arm through her
sister’s just as the music outside began.
“He told me I’m not the seawitch. I’m
the wind.”
Miss Megan’s Top Three
Beauty Secrets
Hello, beauty lovers! On the blog today
I’m addressing the question you’ve all
been asking me. What are my top beauty
secrets for a fabulous night of perfect
makeup?
I have three top tricks that I want to
share. Put them in your arsenal. They
won’t let you down.
Top Tip #1
Eyes.
Mascara can be a girl’s best friend
when it comes to giving us those fluttery,
flirty looks that stop gentlemen’s hearts.
But same-old, same-old won’t cut it for
a special night out. Here’s how to take
your everyday lashes to va-va-va-voom
status. Before applying your mascara of
choice, dab a bit of baby powder over
your clean eyelashes. You can use a Q-
tip to coat evenly and another one to dab
off the excess. Now, apply your mascara
as usual and see the difference! For even
more drama, apply a second coat!
Top Tip #2
Lips.
Everyone loves luscious, full lips! To
give your lips a perfect pout, use a lip
liner that is a shade darker than your
lipstick. Carefully line the outermost
edge, paying extra attention to the
corners. From the corners, working your
way in, fill in your entire lip area with
feathery strokes, but allow the color to
lighten as you work toward the center of
your mouth—especially the bottom lip.
Now, apply your lipstick. You’ll have a
perfectly polished look that will last all
evening. For a more dramatic look,
touch a bit of a light eye shadow to the
center of your bottom lip. Perfection! Be
ready to fight off the boys!
Top Tip #3
Luminescence.
Everyone needs a bit of sparkle when
going out at night. There are lots of
fabulous products on the market for
creating highlights, but in a pinch, you
can use a light and shimmery eye
shadow. With your fingertip, apply a tiny
amount of shadow on the bow of your
mouth just above your lip liner. Next,
apply a bit just below the outer edge of
your eyebrows. Then a tiny bit at your
temples and along the top ridge of your
cheekbones. Be sure to blend and enjoy
the evening-ready, luminescent you.
Sneak peek at Heather
Burch’s new novel
coming in Fall 2015
Down the Hidden Path
From Chapter One
Dear Dad,
It’s fall here and the leaves are
changing. The colors are
unusually vivid this season, the
deepest red, the brightest yellow,
and richest orange I’ve seen. Or
maybe it’s that I’ve been gone so
long, staring at endless shades of
olive drab, I’d forgotten the
beauty of autumn.
I drove out to the cemetery
yesterday to visit the Havinger
family plot where Mom’s buried. I
wondered if we should contact
Grandfather Havinger and see
about having your urn placed
there by Mom’s grave; it just
seems wrong that the two of you
aren’t together.
But I know that’s not what you
asked for. Your words echo back
to me: “We had your mother in
life. We can let them have her in
death.” You were always so
strong, so fair—even with those
who didn’t deserve it. Of
everything you taught me about
life, three things stand out. How
to be a good man, how to be a
good soldier, and how to be a
good father.
The first, I daily strive for. The
second, well, I suppose I’ve done.
The third . . . the third I hope to
one day do. And I guess that’s
what this letter is about.
I’ve put in my time for Uncle Sam
and though the journey was both
long and radically difficult, I find
myself missing it and wondering
what life would be today had I
never signed up. I don’t know
how to be a civilian, Dad. I’m a
little bit scared I’ll fail at it.
What advice would you give me if
you were standing here at the
water’s edge, enjoying the grand
display of colors and life? I
imagine you placing your hand on
my shoulder and saying, “It’ll be
fine, son. Truly, it will all be
fine.” I wish you were here. I wish
I could hear your voice one more
time.
Though worlds separate us,
you’re one of the biggest pieces
of my heart.
Your son,
Jeremiah
Jeremiah McKinley wadded the letter
and dropped it on the last embers of the
early morning campfire. Fog rolled off
the lake, great billowing clouds that rose
and disappeared as the sun trekked over
the mountaintop. It had been the predawn
hour when he left his house and walked
down to the rock-strewn water’s edge
where he’d started a fire with wood and
kindling he’d gathered earlier in the
week. There was still a chill in the air
and it went straight to his bones as he
wondered, for the thousandth time, what
he was doing back in River Rock,
Missouri.
Jeremiah turned to walk back up the
winding path to his house, the place he’d
throw his time and attention into until he
figured out how to be normal again.
When he thought of the road ahead,
though he was apprehensive, seedlings
of excitement had taken root in his heart.
He planned to open a hunting and fishing
lodge right here on Table Rock Lake.
And instead of carrying a gun to kill
insurgents, he’d carry one for hunting
deer or turkey, maybe even the
occasional bear.
Jeremiah shot a glance in the
direction of his sister’s land and her
ever-odd artists’ colony. Charlee’d
found happiness, and that was something
Miah wanted as well. Happiness.
Contentment.
Peace.
An hour later, he headed into town
with the weight of all his questions still
heavy on his shoulders. When he spotted
the breakfast taco truck, he whipped into
the Dairy Flip’s parking lot.
He counted four people in line and
glanced down at his watch. 7:25. Miah
chewed the inside corner of his cheek.
Since he’d been in River Rock, he’d
come to love the breakfast taco truck that
showed up wherever and whenever it
chose. He hated the fact that you could
stand in line and at any given moment,
the man inside would say, “Sorry, we’re
out,” and close the little window. Just
like that. It had happened to him twice.
Miah tapped his foot and waited behind
a guy with three kids in tow. Three
customers in front of him, a woman with
long, ink-black hair stood on the tiptoes
of her tennis shoes, arms folded and
propped on the counter while she chatted
with the guy inside.
Miah had no patience for morning
chitchat and was just considering the
merits of telling her so when her laugh
split the air.
Something shot straight into his gut.
The sound from her lips was deep,
rumbling, almost smoky, rich as warm
butter and sweet as mountain honey. He
knew that laugh.
A slender hand reached up and
captured some of the silken hair.
Jeremiah’s mind rushed to catch up. This
couldn’t be her. But that voice. When the
guy in front of him moved and blocked
Miah’s view, he sidestepped so he could
see her fully, if only from behind. He
was completely out of the line now and a
heavyset woman rushed up to take his
spot.
Who cared? His eyes trailed over the
brunette, assessing the possibility. Right
height. But wrong body shape. This
woman had long, slender legs, a
perfectly shaped rear end, a small waist.
No, it wasn’t her. Miah stepped back
into line a little surprised at the
disappointment rising in his chest.
And that’s when she turned around.
*
“Gray?”
Mary Grace Smith almost dropped
her tacos. She’d spun from the counter to
hurry back to her car when a wide chest
stepped out from the line and nearly
body-slammed her. Her bottle of Coke
teetered on the edge of her makeshift
food tray. Choice words shot into her
mind. What kind of person jumps in the
face of someone carrying food? But then
something registered as her gaze slid
from the tray between them up over his
chest, neckline, chin. He’d said her
name. Finally, her eyes found his. And
her heart stopped.
“Miah?” It was one word. Just his
name. But having it on her lips and
looking into that golden gaze caused a
flurry of unwanted sensations. Run. Run,
run, run, run, run.
This was a bad dream; that was all. A
bad dream where she’d awaken
drenched in sweat. Of course, she’d
known the odds of seeing him. She’d
heard he was returning to River Rock.
And suddenly, with Jeremiah in front of
her, blocking her exit, River Rock
seemed smaller. Too small.
He was all wide smile and animated
eyes as he said, “Wow, I . . . I didn’t
know you were living here. Are you just
visiting?”
Those eyes she’d watched for
hundreds if not thousands of hours. Eyes
that had, at one time in her life,
entranced her. Eyes she’d drowned in.
Of course, everyone who met Jeremiah
was hopelessly trapped in his golden
gaze. Add to that the ridiculously
chiseled features of a Greek god and that
magnetic personality. He was the triple
threat. Miah made you feel like you were
the only woman on the planet. Even if
you were the checker at the Piggly
Wiggly and all you were doing was
scanning his food. She’d actually seen
women swoon. And that right there was
why Gray took a full step back.
He didn’t seem to notice as he waited
—perfect smile in place—for her to
answer. Gray mustered her composure.
“I just moved back. A few months ago.”
“It’s great to see you.” His brows
were riding high, all excitement and
anticipation. The sunlight behind him
played in the strands of his light brown
hair.
Gray steeled herself. “You too.” She
nearly choked on the words getting them
out, and as quickly as she’d run into him,
she could run away. “Well, better get
going.”
When she stepped around his wide
shoulders, he caught her arm.
Don’t look up. Don’t look up. But
her eyes had a mind of their own and
trailed to his. The tiniest of frowns
creased his forehead. He stood not more
than a few inches from her, her shoulder
pointing like an arrow at his heart.
“Gray,” he whispered, and the sound
raced down her body and right into her
soul. “We need to catch up.”
Gray bit her cheeks hard until she
tasted blood on one side. She painted on
a wide, cheery smile. “Oh, sure. Yes,
you know, I’m so busy these days,
Jeremiah. But I’m sure we’ll see each
other in town now and then.” And she
blinked, once, and again. The gentlest
tug liberated her from his hand. Her feet
fell into motion and before she knew it,
she was at her car door.
She fumbled with the keys and the
tacos and the cold drink until she
managed to get in. Gray slammed the car
door shut, closing out everything.
Closing out Miah McKinley and his
smile that melted hearts. When she
shifted to put the keys in the ignition, her
hands were trembling. Gray squeezed
her eyes closed. The fact that one run-in
with Miah could thoroughly wreck her,
even after all this time, bit into her
pride.
She glanced in the rearview mirror to
find him standing in the same spot, one
hand lifted to his forehead to block the
sun. But from the safety of her car, it
resembled a salute, and that shot into
Gray’s heart and settled there. Miah’d
lost his dad not much more than a year
ago. And at that time, she hadn’t been
able to stop her mind from trailing to
him. How he was handling the news.
Was he okay?
“It doesn’t matter,” she grumbled to
herself as she started the car and backed
out of the parking spot. She cast a
fleeting glance to him and waved as she
drove by. Gray breathed deeply, the
scent of tacos a good replacement for the
regret she tasted, even now.
She reminded herself that Miah was
just a snippet from her past. And as she
put her foot on the gas, she let the past go
because it was her future she was
interested in. Twenty miles down the
road, David was waiting for her.
About the Author
Photo © 2014 Melinda Hank
Heather Burch writes full-time and lives
in Florida. Her debut novel was
released in 2012 and garnered praise
from USA Today, Booklist magazine,
Romantic Times, and Publishers
Weekly. Her epic love story, One
Lavender Ribbon, was an international
bestseller and was one of the top 100
books on Amazon Kindle in 2014. Down
the Hidden Path is the follow-up novel
to Along the Broken Road, the first book
in The Roads to River Rock series.
Heather’s heartbeat is to tell
unforgettable stories that make your
heart sigh. Please visit
Heather. She loves to hear from readers!
Document Outline
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- My Letter to Readers
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Miss Megan’s Top Three Beauty Secrets
- Sneak peek: Down the Hidden Path
- About the Author
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