Destination: Romance: Five Inspirational Love Stories Spanning the Globe Page 3

  A gentle, salty breeze tousled her hair, and a delightful shiver wiggled through her. Was it the tropical air or his presence creating the pleasant sensation? “I did, too.”

  “Is the turtle farm open tomorrow?”

  “Yes. We’re open seven days a week to accommodate tourists.”

  He sighed. “Ah. I was hoping maybe you got Sundays off.”

  She released a soft laugh at his crestfallen expression. “You didn’t ask if I was working tomorrow. If you had, I would have said no.”

  His eyebrows shot up, and he straightened like a soldier coming to attention. “So you’re free tomorrow?”

  Tamiera shrugged. “It depends on what time. I attend service at one of the Baptist churches from nine until close to noon.”

  “Where is it located?”

  Another shiver, as sweet as the scent of plumeria, descended. She gave him the address, but she couldn’t resist asking, “You want to go to church? Even though you’re on vacation?”

  His smile went straight to her heart. “Of course I want to go. Even when I travel, I look for a place to worship on the Lord’s day. Why should He bless the work of my hands if I don’t carve out time for Him?”

  She couldn’t wait to tell Carol and Don about Joe. He was rapidly meeting all the characteristics they prayed her future husband would possess. Christian, gentlemanly, honest, kindhearted, unselfish… She gave a little jolt. What was she thinking?

  “Could I talk you into giving me a personal tour of the island after the service?”

  Still reeling from where her thoughts had taken her, Tamiera didn’t answer.

  His grin turned teasing. “Do you accept bribes? I’ll buy your lunch…and even your dinner if the tour runs long.”

  She shook her head, laughing. Impish might not be on Don and Carol’s list, but it made for a perfect addition. “No bribe needed. I’d enjoy showing you the island. It really is beautiful. God did some of His best work here.”

  “All right then.” He plucked the fob from her fingers, hit the unlock button, and opened the door for her. “I’ll see you at church in the morning. Good night, Tamiera.”

  CHAPTER 4

  Having Tamiera close to him on the creaky wooden pew during Sunday morning’s worship service proved more distracting to Joe than any blaring radio ever could. Her perfume, something light and flowery, invited him to lean close and breathe it in. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think the delicate aroma came from the trumpet-shaped, bluish blooms climbing on vines all over her knee-length skirt. Morning glories? Or honeysuckle? Mother would know. Tamiera’s pale blue blouse with a ruffle circling the neckline brought out the baby blue in her eyes. Her sunshine colored hair went perfectly with the sky blue shirt. She looked so wholesome, so classy, so—

  He gave himself a shake. He needed to pay attention to the service. By keeping his gaze forward even when Tamiera crossed her leg and smoothed the skirt over her tan knee, a feminine gesture that begged to be observed, he heard every word of the last half of the pastor’s sermon on Jesus using only a few loaves and fishes to serve the multitudes.

  Th e service closed with a hymn, and sharing a hymnal with Tamiera offered a feeling of oneness he wanted to experience again and again. He caught her eye as they sang the final line, I’m standing on the promises of God, and her smile sent his pulse into double beats. He’d better be careful. He was supposed to be here on business. Dad wouldn’t approve of him getting tangled up in a romance instead.

  Th ey grabbed burgers and fries at the requisite Mickey-D’s—was there anywhere the franchise hadn’t reached?—and took their lunch to the stretch of beach fronting his hotel. The entire expanse of white sand and frothy, turquoise sea milled with swimmers, sun-bathers, and seagulls.

  Tamiera sat at one of the picnic tables and pulled the food from the bag. “This table doesn’t have an umbrella, so we’ll have to be careful.”

  He laid out napkins in lieu of plates. “I put on my long-lasting sunscreen this morning.”

  “That’s wise, but I wasn’t talking about the sun.” She glanced skyward. “Look out for the birds. They’re pretty brazen. They’ll swoop in and steal food out of your hand. Sometimes not even an umbrella keeps them at bay.”

  Joe laughed, envisioning it. He bowed his head to say grace, and something fluttered next to his head. He ducked and opened his eyes. A seagull flew off with one of his French fries in its beak.

  Tamiera’s merry laughter rang.

  He scowled at her. “That’s not funny. My favorite part of the meal is the French fries, and that bird robbed me.” He examined the remaining fries. “Do you think the bird dropped feathers or mites on the rest of them?”

  She stopped laughing, but her blue eyes twinkled. “Here—trade with me.” Two more birds circled above them. “Put your napkin over the food and your hands over the napkin while we pray.”

  He made the prayer short, determined to eat what was left of his lunch. They ate quickly, him scanning the sky for more feathered thieves and Tamiera choking back chuckles. She didn’t eat the French fries, though, so she probably didn’t trust them to be mite- or feather-free. When they finished, they wadded the wrappers and put them in the sack. Tamiera scattered the French fries in the sand, and a horde of birds swooped in.

  Joe grabbed the sack and ushered Tamiera to a trash barrel. He eyed the squawking birds. “Should they be eating fast food?” If it wasn’t terribly healthy for people, it seemed to follow that it wasn’t healthy for seagulls, either.

  She sighed. “Probably not. But it’s better than some other things I’ve seen them eat.”

  They ambled toward her car, the sand pulling at their shoes. “Like what?”

  “Bits of tinfoil, cigarette butts, rotten food…”

  The sadness in her tone took some of the shine off the day. “People are careless, huh?”

  “Careless, yes, and sometimes deliberately destructive.” Her blue eyes clouded. They reached her car, and she hesitated next to the driver’s door. “God created this beautiful place for us to live, and too often we abuse and misuse and waste what we’ve been given.” She shook her head. “And this is supposed to be a day of excursion, not of ruminating. I’m sorry.”

  He touched her shoulder. “No apology necessary. You love this place and you want to see it cared for. There’s nothing to be sorry about in that.”

  A smile curved her lips. “Thanks, Joe. Are your shoes meant for walking?”

  He blinked twice, confused. “What?”

  She pointed at his feet. “Are your shoes comfortable enough to wear for a lengthy walk? If not, you might want to go to your hotel room and change.”

  He checked out her footwear—flipflops with strings of dangling beads on the toe straps. “What about you?”

  She grinned. “I put my slip-on sneakers in the car before I left this morning, so I’ll be fine.”

  He grimaced. “I probably ought to change.”

  “Okay. I’ll wait here.”

  He jogged across the parking lot and entered the hotel lobby. Cool air washed over him, enticing him to slow down and enjoy the minutes out of the sun, but Tamiera was standing out in the heat. He took the stairs instead of the elevator—only three floors up—and kicked off his leather loafers inside the door. He changed into a pair of tan shorts and removed his tie, but didn’t swap his short-sleeved button down for a T-shirt. Tamiera was dressed so nice, he didn’t want to look like a slob next to her.

  In less than five minutes, he trotted across the parking lot on tennis shoes-covered feet. She’d changed her shoes, too, and waited in the driver’s seat with her door open. He darted to the passenger side and slid in. “Ready. So where are you taking me?”

  She closed her door and turned the key in the ignition. “To Queen Elizabeth the Second’s Botanical Park.” She eased out of the lot into the flow of traffic. “It’s one of my favorite places on the island, because they work so diligently to preserve the natural environments of the island.
” She flashed a quick grin. “There are some great panoramic views that’ll take your breath away, and it’s the only place in the world where you’ll find Cayman blue iguanas in the wild.”

  “Are Cayman blue iguanas considered marine animals?”

  “Nope, they’re lizards, but they’re endangered, like my green sea turtles. Can you believe in 2003 there were only about a dozen blue iguanas left in the wild?” She shook her head and huffed. “Most of their habitat was taken over for pastureland for cattle, and my turtles’ predators, feral dogs and cats, nearly wiped them out.”

  Her cheeks blazed pink despite the cool air blasting from the vents. He gave her shoulder a quick rub. “But they’re making a comeback?”

  The bold color faded. “Yes, thanks to efforts from environmentalists who placed them in a protected area, although they’ll never be as plentiful as they once were.” She turned a thoughtful glance on him. “You might never get another chance to see a blue iguana living free of a zoo enclosure.”

  “I’m glad I’ll have the chance today then.”

  Her smile rewarded him. He settled back and watched the green landscape outside the car window, occasionally glancing at Tamiera’s sweet profile. He admired her passion for God and His creation. He approved her unpretentious appearance. He marveled at the wealth of knowledge she possessed. Granted, they’d only been together for a few hours, but he hadn’t yet encountered anything he didn’t like about her. He sensed it wouldn’t take much for him to fall headlong into love with her, the woman. But love led to marriage, and marriage led to establishing a household. Tamiera was a marine biologist. Marine life existed in abundance in Florida, but the state couldn’t offer her green sea turtles. Her home was here, and his home was there. He’d be wise to steel himself against falling in love.

  They spent an enjoyable two hours roaming the beautiful gardens and visiting the information stations at the botanical park. He snapped photos with his cell phone, and Tamiera kept up a steady stream of chatter, feeding him as much or more information about the island’s history, flora and fauna, and wildlife than he’d have learned from a paid tour guide.

  From the botanical garden, she drove to the Mastic Reserve for another lengthy hike through the subtropical forest, another area fast disappearing due to man’s encroachment. Tamiera pointed out wild orchids, various bright-plumed birds, and lizards smaller in size than the blue iguanas and able to move much faster, thus giving them an opportunity to escape predators. Seeing the island through Tamiera’s eyes gave Joe an appreciation for Grand Cayman’s beauty and rich history. More than that, it gave him an appreciation for the woman herself.

  Joe checked his cell phone as they left the reserve and discovered it was already past six o’clock. Little wonder his stomach had been growling. Although sweaty and tired from hiking the trails, Joe still offered to take Tamiera to a restaurant.

  She stopped at the edge of the parking area and tipped her head. Remorse glimmered in her eyes. “I hate to say no because I’ve really enjoyed the day, but I’m on duty at six tomorrow morning in the incubation hut, so I should probably go home. Besides”—she gestured to her limp skirt and wrinkled blouse—“I look a fright. No maître d would welcome me into their dining room.”

  He grinned at her wind-tossed hair and held up one finger. “First, you don’t look a fright. You’re adorable. Really.”

  Even more so when she blushed.

  Two fingers up. “Second, you need to eat, especially since you gave away half your lunch to the greedy seagulls.”

  She ducked her head and giggled.

  “And third…” His hand with three fingers raised trembled slightly. Should he say it? “I’m not ready to say goodnight to you yet.”

  Her gaze met his. “Joe…”

  He shoved his hand in his pocket and sighed. “You fascinate me, all right? You’re so smart and so funny and so cute. I’m feeling…what’s the best word? A crush. Like I have a crush on you.”

  She turned her face aside, giving him a view of her delicate profile. “That’s nice, because, well, I kind of feel that way, too.”

  He stepped into her line of vision and searched her face. “You do?”

  She nodded, the becoming flush staining her cheeks again.

  “Then can I take you to dinner?”

  She shook her head. “Not tonight. Not with early duty, and not while I’m all sweaty and stinky.”

  He grinned. “You smell okay to me.”

  “Probably because you’ve become immune to it and can’t really smell the reality anymore.” She sniffed her armpit and grimaced. “I shouldn’t be in polite company.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “All right, Miss Stinky, I’ll let you off the hook tonight. But when is your next free evening? I still owe you dinner for the great tour.”

  Her eyes widened. “But I haven’t shown you nearly everything yet. There’s still the Seven Mile Beach, and the reefs, and Pedro’s Castle, and—” She clapped her hand over her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She lowered her hand. “Am I presuming?”

  “Presuming what?”

  “That you want me to show you the rest of the island? Maybe you’d be better off joining the different excursions offered by the tourism bureau. Because I don’t have a lot of free time, and your vacation time is probably limited, too.”

  He needed to clarify his purpose for being on the island, but a strand of hair drifted across her cheek, completely derailing his intention. He tucked the silky wisps behind her ear. “I don’t want any other tour guide than you. Whatever free hours you have, I’ll grab them. That is, if you don’t object to reserving them for me.”

  “I don’t object.”

  He’d never heard sweeter words.

  CHAPTER 5

  For the next three weeks, Joe’s schedule revolved around Tamiera’s schedule. If she was free, he set aside his work and spent the hours with her. Saturdays and week days offered limited time, but she gave him all of Sunday. He’d expected her to be off duty on Thanksgiving day, but she explained the islands were British territories and therefore didn’t celebrate the American holiday. The islanders celebrated Christmas in addition to the British Boxing Day, but Joe wasn’t sure he’d still be on Grand Cayman that far into December.

  When he wasn’t with Tamiera, he viewed parcels of land available for purchase. He researched business licensing, requested bids from three different construction companies based on his speculative blueprints, and gathered information about taxes and building permits and average salaries for hotel employees.

  By the end of the first week in December, he had all the information necessary to make a resort hotel in Grand Cayman a reality. All he lacked was a piece of land on which to build the resort. He shared the results of his research with his father from his hotel room during a FaceTime chat.

  Joe gestured to the files of paperwork on the large desk in the corner of the executive suite. “Even though Grand Cayman is considered a tropical paradise, the actual construction costs will be less than we paid to build the hotel in Miami—and that’s taking into consideration shipping in the materials. Of course, the resort here won’t be as big as the Miami hotel, which means the number of rentable rooms will be fewer. But that shouldn’t affect the profit because we’ll conceivably be able to ask double what a Miami room brings.”

  “So the potential for pro fit margin is higher than average.” Dad’s forehead pinched into a thoughtful scowl. “What did you determine about suites versus rooms?”

  “ The resorts I toured have an equal number of each available, and the rooms fill the fastest. Some family groups visit, but most of the people who come are looking for a private get-away with one special someone.” The special someone who’d been filling his dreams the past several nights crept in and stole his focus. “I wrote out a…um…”

  He cleared his throat, chasing Tamiera to the back of his brain, and leafed through a stack of papers. “Ah. Here it is
.” He held the paper aloft and scanned the numbers. “It’s no surprise rooms take up fewer square feet than suites. Basically we can fit five rooms into the same space as two suites. Given the square footage of the entire structure and the higher demand for rooms, I suggest we designate the top and bottom floors of the resort for suites and put rooms only on the middle three floors. Keep in mind, the first level will also house the restaurant, kitchen, spa, gift shop, and lobby, so that’ll eat up a significant portion of the floor space.”

  “Wait, back up… Five stories?” Dad nearly barked the question. “ The Miami hotel has seven.”

  “I know, but five seems to be the limit around here. Hurricanes being one concern, and blocking the view of the ocean another. Every commissioner or big-whig I talked to was very firm about the number of floors.”

  “All right then.” Dad leaned back in his chair and finally smiled, the lines on his forehead and those along his mouth relaxing. “You’ve done well, son. As soon as you settle on a location, we can put the construction team on our payroll. If all goes well, by this time next year, Phelps Grand Cayman Resort will be open for business.”

  Joe propped his elbows on the desk and leaned close to his tablet. “Dad, I had an idea…something that might appeal to guests. A lot of resorts are named for something specific to what they offer, such as Atlantis, building on the mythical undersea city, or Sandals, reminding guests of the sandy beaches. Several beaches on Grand Cayman are nesting grounds for sea turtles.” He shared some of what he’d learned from Tamiera about the sea turtles’ habits and their status as endangered. “What would you think about naming the resort something other than Phelps?”

  Dad’s frown returned. “All of our hotels bear our name.”

  “I know, but Grand Cayman is so far from the United States. It’s so… different here.”

  “You want to name it the Turtle Resort?”

  When said out loud, it came across as humorous. Childish. Ridiculous. Joe rubbed his temples. “Not necessarily the Turtle Resort, but something that brings to mind turtles, like…”