She took a roll from the bread basket and tore a piece off as she looked around the well-appointed room. There were only a few tables, each lit by the glow of sconces secured to the stone walls. The small number of patrons wasn’t surprising, really. The island was an exclusive resort. At any one time, there weren’t that many guests, and surely a good number of those chose to dine in privacy.
Across the room, Kyra saw C. J. Miller moving through the dimly lit restaurant, one of the guys she’d seen at the dock by his side. He still wore his cap, but the aviator glasses were gone. The two men were deep in conversation, but when C.J.’s eyes strayed her way, Kyra waved. He waved back, then quickly returned his attention to the clipboard the other man held.
Merrilee turned, then, seeing who Kyra had recognized, immediately faced forward again and took a long sip of wine. She still looked perfectly calm, but Kyra thought she might be a shade paler. The lighting,perhaps? Then again, Merrilee had seemed distracted at the dock when she’d introduced herself to the new pilot.
“Is something wrong?”
“That transparent, am I?” Merrilee’s mouth curved into a smile, but it seemed a little sad. “No. Our new pilot just reminds me of someone. Someone I lost years ago.” Instinctively, Kyra’s eyes searched for C.J., but he’d already disappeared through the back exit.
“Even his last name…well, never mind.” Merrilee shook her head and took a sip of water, as if determined to push the memories away. “We’re here to talk about you, not to dredge up ghosts from my past.”
“Of course,” Kyra said. She was curious, but if Merrilee didn’t want to talk about her lost love—and Kyra was sure it was just that—then she’d respect the other woman’s wishes.
Merrilee cleared her throat. “Well then. You’ve read the materials, of course, but I like to meet personally with all new arrivals. At Fantasies, Inc., we don’t provide the traditional resort vacation. I find the guests appreciate the opportunity to ask questions before their fantasy gets underway.”
The memory of Michael was still fresh in her mind, a man who’d certainly struck a chord with her. He was the very epitome of adventure, a chivalrous knight determined to protect the innocent…and, perhaps, to fulfill her not-so-innocent fantasies?
She pictured him as a romantic recluse who lived bynobody’s rules but his own. A man who knew what it was like to feel alive and in control, to feel like he was moving through life instead of being pushed along by an uncontrollable current.
She felt a twinge of envy and considered asking if the mysterious man was there on a fantasy of his own. Even more important, did he play any role in the fantasy Merrilee had designed for her?
With a bit of effort, she quelled the urge. The woman had managed to find her favorite wine, for goodness sake. Kyra had no doubt about her ability to provide an equally impressive fantasy man.
But how? And who? Michael? She hoped so, but she didn’t dare ask.
“Kyra?”
“I don’t think I have any questions.” None other than the big ones—What’s going to happen? And when?She toyed with her salad fork. “Really.”
Merrilee took a sip of wine, then put down her glass. “Forgive me for being so blunt, but I don’t believe you.”
Kyra’s cheeks warmed. “It’s just… I…” She took a deep breath. “I just wondered—”
“You want to know what’s going to happen,” Merrilee said gently. “What type of adventure is in store for you. And who you’ll share it with.”
Kyra nodded, silently admiring the polished woman across the table.
“There’s only one rule here, my dear, and that is thatthere are no rules.” A smile touched her lips. “When one trades in fantasies, it’s best not to be too pragmatic.”
“I can see that,” Kyra said, her curiosity piqued even more.
“I can’t tell you how your fantasy will play out any more than I can tell you exactly what’s in your heart. Only you can do that.”
“But…” she paused, unsettled. “But the forms…all the questions… I told you so much about what I want, what I feel.”
“And I assure you that all your information has been analyzed and put to good use.” She pushed her bread plate aside and took Kyra’s hand across the table. “Remember that this isyourfantasy. A large part of it must come from you. I’m merely—” she cast her free hand about as if searching for a word “—the director of an improvisational drama. The framework is there, but much of the story comes from the players themselves.”
Her smile was soft and reassuring, but did little to calm Kyra’s nerves. “What if I miss my cue?”
Merrilee squeezed her hand gently before releasing it. “You won’t.”
Kyra nodded vaguely, wondering if, when she stumbled over her fantasy, she’d recognize it. Even more, after all her planning, all her worry, all herlonging, would she actually have the courage to embrace it? To grab the life—the fantasy—that Merrilee had to offer?
The answer came, insistent and strong—yes, oh, yes.
“We’ve made a bargain, you and I,” Merrilee said, as if reading her mind. “My part was—is—to set the stage.”
“And my part?” Kyra asked, a nervous excitement cresting in her blood.
“It may be when you least expect it. But you’ll know when the time is right. And that, my dear, is the moment to seize your fantasy.”
