“This is too much, though,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you sick or something? Are you dying?”
“I’m not dying.”
“You?
?re clearly dying.”
“Martin,” I said, leaning in with a smile. “Sign the goddamn papers.”
Martin took a pen from his jacket and signed the document, then slid it back across the table to me. I tucked the document back into the computer back and held up my bottle. “Here’s to the future.”
“To the future,” Martin said. “And beyond.”
* * *
We finished our drinks and were walking out of the hotel bar when my cellphone rang. I pulled the phone from my jacket and frowned at the screen. I didn’t recognize the number, but very few people knew my cell, so I assumed it was a call I should take.
“Who’s that?” Martin asked.
“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. “You go on upstairs. I’ll be up in a minute.”
“Okay, see you later,” he said. “And Chad… thanks.”
I smiled and brought the phone to my ear. “This is Chad.”
“Mr. Walters, my name is Graham Elliot. I work at Roland House Publishing.”
“Yes?”
“I’d like to set up a time to chat with you about possibly doing a series of fitness books for us,” he said. “And I have a message for you from our mutual friend, Zoe Maxwell.”
I frowned at the sound of her name. It had been two days since I’d seen Zoe and two seconds since I’d last thought of her. I braced myself for whatever was coming. “What about Zoe Maxwell?”
“Mr. Walters, are you familiar with Costa Rica?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Zoe
The sound of the waves made my mind drift, and I pushed back in my chair and closed my laptop. The sun beat down on my face and I closed my eyes, taking in the cool breeze and the smell of salt water in the air.
The distant sound of children playing mixed with the soft music coming from a radio on the beach, and the mix of sensations made me feel like I had finally found a small part of Heaven where I could probably live out the rest of my life.
Research for the new series was going great. For the past week, I had probably put in more writing than I had done in months while back at the city. I had no idea if this was what the publisher expected or not, but I was sure Roland House would be happy with the outcome. The cost of sending me to Costa Rica would be money well-spent if it meant I churned out an entire series of bestsellers set here in the islands.
I loved it here.
I might never go back to the NYC.
Graham had called that morning, and for the first ever, I lied to him about my progress. I made it sound like I had only finished half of what I had really done. He could probably tell that I didn’t want to go home. I felt I could maybe finish the outline for a second book while here, if I could maintain my momentum. And if not, who cared. No one was rushing me, and I was happy to soak in the beauty that I found myself in. If Roland House tired of paying the bills, I’d happily take them over myself.
A pair of warm lips pressed against the back of my left shoulder blade, and a strong hand that I had come to love ran down my arm. Goose bumps broke out across my skin, and I shuddered when the kisses continued along my back to my other shoulder blade. I sighed as my bikini bottoms grew wet and warm.
“I love how you can just make me gush by touching me,” I whispered.
“I have the magic touch,” Chad said, coming around to plant a soft kiss on my lips. He wiggled his fingers at me. “These are yours anytime you need them, to be placed or inserted anywhere you like.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied. “I’m so glad you caught me at the airport.”
“I’m so glad your pal Graham told me where to find you,” he said with a grin. He put his hands behind his head and tilted his brown face toward the sun. “This beats the fuck out of New York City.”