The Agreement (Unrestrained 1)

"Next Wednesday over the Thanksgiving weekend. Will you be able to sneak away?"

I thought about it. I did have some time off and really, the idea of getting away from everything appealed to me.

I nodded. "I just have to hand in an article to the student newspaper."

"Good. We'll get a ticket for you. We'll get a couple of suites at the British Colonial Hilton in Nassau, on Paradise Island so there's more than enough room. We can do some snorkeling, scuba diving, or nothing at all. Whatever you want."

I smiled and leaned against him, surprised that he was being so attentive and thoughtful.

The following week went faster than I imagined. I ignored and deleted all of Drake's and Dawn's texts and emails unread. To my surprise, Drake didn't show up at my doorstep and I was sad but relieved. At least I wouldn't have to deal with him.

He must have finally given up.

Each night I tossed and turned in my bed at my father's house, remembering everything that happened between Drake and me before falling into a fitful sleep. Each day I went through the motions of my life, rushing through things in the hope that one more day would be over and I could go back to sleep – a dangerous state I'd been in after my trip to Africa. I recognized the symptoms of depression and couldn't wait for a change of scenery. I figured going to the Bahamas would provide me an escape from the reminders of what almost, but didn't quite, happen between Drake and me.

I spent an all-nighter getting an article finished for Geist on Tuesday. I packed a small bag with summer clothes from storage, sundresses, sandals and a bikini and bought some sunscreen and sunglasses at the local drugstore.

The Wednesday evening flight took us right to the Bahamas and a limo drove us to beautiful resort on the water. The British Colonial Hilton looked like a huge plantation with white sand beaches and palm trees. We arrived late that ni

ght and went right to our rooms, which were adjoining, each suite a one bedroom with separate living areas.

I was exhausted. Maybe just the thought that I was away from everything, my article written, with no work ahead of me for four glorious days, made me collapse into bed. I fell asleep in minutes, the bedside lamp still on.

I slept late and my father didn't wake me as he usually would have for an early morning walk on the beach. Instead, there was a note from him slipped under my door. They let me sleep in, not wanting to wake me on the first day of my very short vacation.

Katherine,

Take your time this morning and just rest. Go for a walk on the beach. We've already had breakfast and have gone for a boat ride. Meet us at the restaurant at noon for lunch. Then, we'll go scuba diving in the afternoon. We have lessons booked. Tonight, we'll have a nice Thanksgiving Dinner. The hotel puts on a great spread for American guests.

Love, Dad and Elaine

It was 11:00. I got up and went to the window to look out over the ocean. The weather was perfect, the sky clear, the water azure, the sand white. Palm trees swayed in the breeze and people took their places on the beach.

After a shower, I put on my white bikini and favorite piece of clothing for summer – a little white eyelet sundress with thin straps. I was white as a ghost, my fair skin guaranteed to burn unless I slathered on copious amounts of sunscreen, which I did. Before I met with my father and Elaine, I slipped out the front door to the beach and took off my sundress, holding it as I walked along, hoping to soak up a few rays of sun, avoiding the tourists, ankle-deep in the surf. I kept my face in the sun to get some color. I intended to only be out on the beach for ten minutes, but I got busy wading along, holding my sundress up, my legs in the cool water. It was so quiet and peaceful, I just walked and walked, stopping now and then to pick up a stray shell or examine a piece of driftwood that washed up on the shore.

Finally, realizing I'd been gone for longer than I intended, I turned back and made my way to the hotel. My cheeks were already hot from the sun and the fact I'd left my sunhat in the room, not planning to be away for so long. I could already see a bit of red on my exposed skin despite the sunscreen.

I put my sundress back on and went into the hotel to the restaurant, for I was already late. It was then I saw a billboard in the lobby with a list of conventions being held at the hotel that week. A variety, but most had a medical theme. One in particular caught my eye:

Deep Brain Stimulation in Pediatric Movement Disorders – Lower Level, Empress Room

Drake did deep brain stimulation. He treated pediatric cases and I remembered the story he told of the small boy from South Africa who gave him the tooled leather wristband. I stood staring at the billboard and wondered if it was possible… Surely he wouldn't be at this hotel of all hotels in the world.

I heard some laughter and conversation from guests who were ascending the staircase that led up from the lower levels. Men and women dressed in casual clothes fitting to a resort in the Bahamas – khakis and white shirts, sandals.

Bringing up the rear was Drake Morgan.

He was dressed in white and looked devastatingly gorgeous – white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up, neck unbuttoned and tail untucked over white Dockers and black leather sandals. His hair was a bit mussed, and his face slightly tanned with a bit of scruff on his jaw. He was with a woman as tall as him, with fashionably long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and a nice tan. She was wearing something casual but still fashionable – a shirt and skirt that looked straight from the outback. They laughed together as they talked, his hands animated.

He was already with someone new? Was she his sub? Would he bring a sub to a convention?

He saw me and stopped in his tracks, blinking. His companion stopped and stared at me, a smile on her lovely face.

"Excuse me," Drake said to her. I turned on my heel, my stomach in my throat, adrenaline washing through me.

"Kate!" he said, and then I heard him speaking to her in a low voice, but couldn’t make out what he said.

What the hell… Did my father arrange all this, hoping we'd run into Drake?