eleven-thirty. Then I called Roy and woke him up.” She smiled sweetly and rubbed his arm.
“What are you drinking?” Roy asked, looking up at Melanie.
“Is that a piña colada?” Melanie asked, indicating Richelle’s drink.
“Yep.”
“Then I’ll have one of those.”
“You’ll want to see how they make it,” Richelle said. “Fresh pineapple and fresh coconut. And the taste? To die for.”
“I’m sold,” Melanie said. When Roy began to stand, she placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll go get it.”
“Just tell Manueli to add your drink to my tab,” Roy told her.
“Why did you walk here with your purse?” Richelle asked her. “Just charge everything to the room.”
“Oh. Right. I didn’t think of that.”
“Please don’t tell me you have your phone in there,” Richelle said, giving her a knowing look. “No one is going to call you for wardrobe work on a film set this week. And even if they do, you’re taking a break, remember?”
“I can’t even play Angry Birds?” Melanie countered.
“No,” Richelle told her. “Good grief, there’s so much more to do here than be tied to your phone.”
“I was kidding,” Melanie said, though she did have her phone in her purse. Force of habit. “I was only thinking about paying for food and stuff.”
“Put all food and drinks on my tab,” Roy said. “I’m taking care of everything. I will be offended if you don’t.”
“Thanks, Roy,” Melanie said. “For everything. This place is amazing, and I already feel relaxed. Now how about putting off the wedding for a week or two? That way, we can stay in paradise longer.”
“Already working on it,” Richelle said as she took Roy’s hand and smiled at him. “Meet us at the beach once you get your drink. We’re headed down there.”
Warmth filled Melanie’s heart as she watched them stand and walk hand in hand out of the bar. As they strolled contentedly, Roy lifted Richelle’s hand to his lips and kissed it.
Melanie made her way to the bar. “Bula,” she said to the bartender, whose name tag read Manueli.
“Bula. You must be Melanie.”
Melanie’s eyebrows shot up as she sat on a bar stool. “How did you know?”
“Because your friend told me you would be arriving soon. Said to make you an extraspecial drink.”
“Richelle says you make an amazing piña colada.”
“One Likuliku piña colada coming right up.”
Melanie watched him cut slices from a fresh pineapple and put them in the blender, and then chop the top off a green coconut and pour the juice found inside into the blender, as well. He added some sort of cream, followed by a good dose of rum and ice, and then turned on the machine.
After about seven seconds of whirring, the blender came to a stop. Manueli poured the creamy concoction into a tall glass and presented it to Melanie. “Here you go.”
She sipped it. And felt like she had just tasted heaven. “Oh, my goodness. This is delicious! Thank you, Manueli. I’ll be back for more of these.”
Turning on the bar stool, she took another drink of the delicious cocktail and surveyed the area.
And her eyes caught a glimpse of a seriously sexy body. Strong golden brown legs, washboard abs, perfectly sculpted pecs...
An odd sense of realization dawned a moment before her gaze went higher, to the man’s face. Her heart slammed in her chest. And as she dared to look at his face, her eyes bulged in stupefied horror, and the liquid she’d just sipped went down the wrong way.
No! her mind screamed. No. It can’t be possible. There’s no way that could be him!
She coughed, almost violently, trying to clear her windpipe. With the commotion she was making, she knew she was drawing attention to herself.
Which was exactly what she didn’t want, especially if the man she thought she’d just seen was actually not a figment of her imagination.
Perhaps the Fijian heat was getting to her. Obviously, that couldn’t be him.
She turned back to the bar, where Manueli looked at her in alarm. “Are you okay?”
Melanie waved a hand to dismiss his concern. She slapped her chest, hoping to relieve the endless hacking. And as the coughing finally began to subside, she was certain now that the man she’d seen had simply been a look-alike. He had to be. Everyone had them, after all.
For God’s sake, she was in Fiji, not strolling along Wall Street.
Surreptitiously, she glanced to her right once more. And there he was, still standing at the perimeter of the island bar as if frozen to the spot, staring in her direction.
And then she knew.
She saw, at the moment, that he knew, too. The question in his eyes morphed into complete surprise.
Clearly, he had just spent the last few seconds trying to determine if she was truly who she’d appeared to be, just as she had done where he was concerned. And now, there was no longer any doubt.
God help her, it was Lawrence.
The man she should have married nine months ago. The man she had left standing at the altar.
* * *
Lawrence looked in the direction of the coughing woman at the bar, and at first thought that he had to be hallucinating. He was halfway across the world, on one of Fiji’s beautiful islands, a far cry from New York City. He had come here expressly to forget the very woman he feared his eyes now rested on.
She glimpsed in his direction once again, and then he was absolutely certain. The deer-in-the-headlights look on her face made it clear that he wasn’t dreaming. That indeed, Melanie Watts was here in the same bar at the same resort he was staying at.
Of all the islands that made up Fiji, Melanie was actually at the very same one where he was.
Melanie quickly jerked her gaze away from his and shot to her feet, and the purse that was on her lap went flying, spilling the contents onto the sand. Then her hand swung to the side as if in fright, and she knocked over the drink that was on the bar in front of her.
The bartender reacted quickly, grabbing up the glass. Melanie dropped to the ground to collect her strewn items.
Lawrence watched her, intrigued and mortified.
Melanie looked terror stricken. She kept glancing at him as she picked up the contents of her purse,
