Chapter 1
"No! I beg you! Please, no! No!" Whitney Harris screamed, plunging backwards into cold water. The young woman grinned, and resurfaced, in a resort pool, giggling. She shook her head furiously, and pushed her soaked hair out of her eyes. "Noah! Honey, how could you do that to me! I begged you!" The small child with sandy blond hair just laughed. He was proud of himself for finally getting his Auntie into the pool.
"I couldn't resist," he managed to say childishly between giggles.
"You couldn't resist!" Whitney said incredulously. Whitney ruffled his hair playfully. "I don't believe that!" Noah's actual mother was nowhere to be seen, saying she'd return to the resort later. (That was hours ago.) Whitney could never resist Little Noah's puppy-dog eyes, and obliging to the little boy's requests, the exhausted Whitney (who had been following him through all the souvenir shops all morning, when his mother first became "Missing in Action") had chaperoned his trip to the pool. Whitney heard hysterical laughing behind her, and saw her best friend in the world, Theresa Bennett, covering her mouth to muffle her laughter. As her shoulders shook, tears were streaming down her face under her sunglasses. When the laughing fit finally ended, she dipped her feet into the pool with a satisfied sigh.
Whitney pulled herself out of the water, wringing out her shirt. Taking a towel from Theresa, she rubbed her golden-brown skin with it, before realizing the uselessness of the situation. Her clothing was soaked, and she didn't have the guts (or the indecency) to take off her shirt and pants right there at the resort pool. Theresa, meanwhile, had picked up her son from the water and had begun to towel him off. "What a good boy!" she complimented, grinning at him. "Auntie Whitney's face sure was funny, wasn't it?" Noah nodded furiously, and they both began to laugh all over again. Theresa looked up at Whitney. "Really Whitney, you should've seen it!"
Whitney pouted, and began to wring water out of her curly brown hair and said nothing. Theresa giggled.
"Come on, Whit. The beach is supposed to be really nice today."
-0-0-
"Theresa, what am I going to do," moaned Whitney on her lounging chair, now dry and in a bathing suit. Her sunglasses flashed in the sun. Theresa, lying on her side, didn't respond, half-asleep. "How am I going to explain it to him?"
"Well," Theresa lazily responded, not making eye contact, "Soak him for all he's worth, and then break it to him gently." Whitney scoffed, and Theresa started to giggle.
"Oh, I don't even care about the money." she said despondently. "All I've ever really wanted was someone---"
"Excuse me," Whitney looked up, to the source of the deep voice, with his large hand on Ethan's shoulder. He was a tall, lanky guy, with deep brown eyes and sandy blond hair. His tan was apparent in the slight shadows. "Does this, by any chance, belong to you?" He nudged Noah forward. Whitney and Theresa looked at each other, their eyes widening, then back at the man in shock. Theresa smiled flirtatiously.
"Now what's he gone and done?"
"Well," the stranger began with a grin. "He was creating a fairly sophisticated surveillance system behind the ladies' changing rooms." He joked, sending Whitney into a fit of laughter. Theresa, shaking her head knowingly with a smile, tugged Noah toward her.
"He's out of control," Whitney said, smiling. "All that manly testosterone, probably."
"I know," Theresa said, looking to the sky. "Scourge of the planet, that's what it is. Noah, sit." She smiled back at the stranger. "Thanks for not turning him in." He grinned towards Whitney.
"Oh, you're welcome." He looked slightly self-conscious. Whitney smiled serenely back at him. Who is this guy? "Well---" she pulled down her sunglasses and revealed bright brown eyes. "—See ya." He turned. Whitney frowned.
"Quitter." He stopped at that, turning again, towards her. He paused for a second, digesting her bold statement. Whitney blinked. Where did thatcome from? He chuckled.
"What?" he asked slowly.
"Nothing," she replied with a cheery smile and a short giggle. He wasn't swayed so easily.
"You called me a quitter," he probed, hoping for an explanation.
"Well," she said, noting his intention, "You sure give up awful easy." She wore a challenging smile. He smirked, and shook his head. He turned, and left, for real this time. "Ooh," she said, turning to Theresa. They both giggled again. She shook her head and replaced her sunglasses. "That was a cute one."
"Very cute," Theresa agreed, with a smile.
-0-0-
The plane landed in Boston early the next morning. Whitney calmly walked through the airport, occasionally smoothing her long, white coat, shaking her hair to make sure it was all still in her ponytail. She looked around for Chad, and with a grimace, realized he wasn't at the terminal yet. After some time she spent waiting, she checked her watch and pulled out her cell phone.
"Whoa," she heard a surprised voice behind her. This guy – again! "Hi," he said, this time, exuding more confidence. Her mouth dropped open, and she blinked silently. She regained her composure after a few seconds and gave him a friendly smile.
"Hi," she replied, laughing nervously. The charming man flashed his mega-watt smile at her, and she noted that he had a haircut from the last time they had met.
"I think its okay that I can ask your name now that we're in another country together," he said, adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder but not breaking eye-contact.
"Whitney…Harris…" she said, smiling up at him.
"Fox Standish."
"It's a pleasure." She shook his hand. Justin fidgeted.
"I'm going to ask you something real quick, and make it like ripping off a Band-aid, okay?"
"Ow," Whitney said, with humor and then shrugged. "Go ahead."
"Are you, by any chance, a Mrs. Harris?" She smiled, pondering her answer.
"Not for long," she replied, somewhat distantly.
"Your ride didn't show?" he said, with a charming smile, getting her attention out of her small depression. She sighed.
"Yeah, but its par for the course, I'm afraid." Fox studied her bags.
"Need a hand?" Whitney smiled and nodded.
"Yes. Yes, that would be great." He picked two up. "Thank you," she said, finally regaining some of her enthusiasm despite the rainy (literally and figuratively) day.
-0-0-
Fox unloaded the bags from the trunk of the taxi Whitney had called, with a quick thank you to the driver. Whitney smiled charmingly at him.
"I would invite you to come in, but it's not---" Fox smiled knowingly.
"I understand completely." He looked around. "Nice neighborhood. Fancy." Whitney dug her keys from her jacket pocket. "Well---" he was interrupted by a car horn. "I'm off." He nodded at her. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Whit. Good luck." Whitney beamed.
"It was really nice meeting you too." Fox looked down, suddenly remembering something.
"Oh, something to remember me by." He fished in his bag and handed her a book with an impish smile.
"'TheCaribbean'" she read off of the cover with a surprised smile. "I've just come back from there, but---"
"You'll have to read it and see what you missed," he said with a smile. On his way to the taxi, he turned his head, and said: "Maybe next time you're in Martinique, you'll be single." She sighed. "See ya around, Whit," he said, waving and getting into the car.
"It's Whitney," she called to the taxi, but he was already gone. "But that's okay."
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Ooh! The mysterious stranger. The next chapters are coming soon. RR! -CT
