Beach?” he asked. She nodded her response and was jostled by the couple behind her.
“Are you two getting in?” the man asked, his fat brown face glistening in the waning light.
“Room for all,” the driver called out. He snatched up Mitchell’s bag and loaded it into the back and did the same for Sasha before grabbing the couple’s luggage.
The older couple, spry for their age, hurried right past Sasha and Mitchell and secured the seats in the back. Mitchell stepped aside to let Sasha on, helping her up with a firm hand on her arm. A shiver ran up the line of her back and she almost tripped over her own feet. Real smooth, she thought, thankful for the dark interior of the van. She scooted across the worn upholstered seat and pinned herself against the window, praying for the driver to hurry and turn on the air conditioning.
Mitchell stooped low to get in and, after assessing the seating arrangements, took the only available seat, the one next to Sasha. He adjusted his solid body, inadvertently bumping his hip against hers. “Sorry,” he murmured then folded his arms across the tight expanse of his chest and stared ahead.
Sasha’s heart thumped. Sweat trickled down the valley of her breasts as she tried to gather herself into an invisible knot.
The driver hopped in on the right-hand side of the van, put it in gear and took off into the night. The van banged and bumped along the frighteningly narrow roads at death-defying speeds. Sasha’s heart hammered along with the banging and rattling, and she was sure that they were going to hurtle into a ditch, never to be seen again. She held on to the armrest for dear life. The one perk to the speed was that it stirred up gusts of air which cooled her body.
The only time the driver slowed was to allow two goats to cross the road. She could barely make out the landscape, but what she did see was not what was advertised in the brochures. Clapboard houses leaning left and right, stray dogs and cats, cows, sheep, and a ragtag complement of residents sitting on rickety steps or strolling along dirt roads.
The tug and pitch of the ride put Sasha and Mitchell in constant bodily contact, sending shock waves rippling up and down her thigh even as she pretended not to notice him or the way his leg felt against hers.
The van suddenly swerved around a double-parked car and Sasha tipped over into Mitchell’s lap. For a moment neither one moved or breathed. Alarm lit her eyes and the heat of embarrassment burned her cheeks when she looked up at him staring down at her. And then he smiled and it was sunlight rising over the horizon. She froze at the awesomeness of it.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” he teased, his warm voice taking the sting out of her awkward predicament. The van bumped again and she struggled to sit up. “I am so sorry,” she said, looking every place but at him.
“I’d rather have you fall in my lap than that one back there,” he said in a pseudo whisper with a flick of his head in the direction of the couple behind them.
Sasha giggled.
They were both silent for a moment until Mitchell said, “Hey, why don’t we start over? Mitchell Davenport.” He extended his hand.
Sasha hesitated but a second before placing her hand in his. “Sasha Carrington.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mitchell.”
“Since it looks like we’ll be staying at the same resort, why don’t you call me Mitch? All my friends do.”
“Mitch…”
His dark eyes caught flecks of light as they glided over her. She drew in a breath and held it.
The van swerved again. This time Mitchell caught her. They laughed at the absurdity of what was to be their ordeal until they arrived at their destination.
“Do they all drive this way?” she asked, brushing the loose strands of her windswept hair away from her face.
Mitchell chuckled. “Pretty much. You get used to it after a while.”
“I’m still freaked out about them driving on the wrong side of the road.”
“That does take a bit of getting used to,” he agreed. He peered out the window. “It shouldn’t be much longer.”
Sasha dared to look out the window and noticed that the landscape had decidedly changed. Gone were the ramshackle homes and worn-and weary-looking residents. In their place were rolling green hills, towering palm trees and beautiful mansions tucked into the magnificent mountainsides overlooking sprawling white beaches.
The van turned into a long, winding road, braced on either side by trees and lush greenery surrounded by white gravel and stones. The vehicle slowed as it approached a gate. A guard in a beige uniform stepped out of the small enclosure at the entrance to the gate and approached the driver. He peered inside and asked to see their reservations. Each passenger handed over their documents, which were promptly returned, and the gate slowly swung open.
“They’re pretty serious about their security,” Sasha said under her breath, tucking her documents back in her purse.
“Jolly Beach is a private resort. There are no walk-ins. If you don’t have a confirmed reservation you can’t get into the facility,” Mitchell explained.
They drove down a path that led to the welcome area of the resort, which was outside, much to Sasha’s surprise. The reception desk was couched beneath an archway with seating all around. The area opened out onto paths leading to shops, the bar and the beach.
The driver began unloading bags and Mitchell took out his wallet to give him a tip. Sasha did the same, but Mitchell covered her hand with his. “Don’t worry about it,” he said quietly.
Sasha couldn’t decide whether to reject his courteous gesture or if he saw her as a helpless tourist. When they were out of eyeshot of the others she would repay him. She didn’t want him getting the idea that now “she owed him.”
They walked up to the reception desk and checked in. They were both given wrist bands that would allow them free meals and use of all the facilities while they were at the resort during the next two weeks.
“Here are your keys,” the desk clerk said in a lilting island patois with a hint of a British accent. She gave an actual key to Sasha and Mitchell then handed them a brochure of the resort’s amenities and a map and directions for the sprawling resort. “Your rooms are on Mango Lane. Make a left at the exit sign and they are across the short walkway.” She smiled brightly, not offering an escort.
“Thanks,” Mitchell said then turned to Sasha. “Ready?”
“Sure.” Pulling her bag behind her, she followed Mitchell through the darkness, the only illumination coming from the moonlight on the graveled path.
They crossed a short bridge that spanned a pond and emerged on the other side into a tropical paradise. Palms and brilliantly colored flora greeted them every step of the way, filling the air with a heady aroma. Mitchell looked at the signposts stuck in the gravel. He glanced over his shoulder at Sasha. “It’s right up ahead.”
They came upon a row of white connected cottages and went up a short flight of stone steps that opened onto another row of connecting rooms.
“I’m in 207,” Mitchell said.
Sasha
