§ § § - July 9, 1996

Harry and Sandi Schmidt faced Roarke and Leslie at the plane dock Monday morning, both smiling broadly, each with an arm wrapped securely around the other. "This weekend must have been the best one we ever had," Harry said, beaming. "You gave me the chance to do something I always dreamed of, and you gave me back the love of my life in the process. Thanks a million, Mr. Roarke and Leslie."

"From me too," Sandi said. "Thanks for being there at the luau Saturday night too, Leslie. I was always getting advice from everyone, but you just sat there and listened, and let me ramble, and that's what finally made me see that I really needed to meet Harry halfway. I think we're gonna make it now."

"That's great," Leslie said warmly.

"It is indeed," Roarke concurred. "We wish both of you the best of luck and much happiness, and may your marriage be long and blissful."

"Maybe we'll come back for a second honeymoon," Harry offered.

Sandi grinned. "Great idea, honey! Thanks again." They all shook hands, and Leslie and Roarke watched the couple, securely in each other's embrace, amble off to the docking ramp, accepting leis all the way to the plane.

"I'm so glad when we get happy endings like that," Leslie said, still gazing dreamily after the Schmidts. "They both had so much going for them, and they obviously were still in love with each other…they just needed to see it in each other, not just themselves."

Roarke smiled. "The key is communication—one of the most vital ingredients in any relationship. And I believe Mr. and Mrs. Schmidt have rediscovered it." He let a beat or two pass, then regarded her curiously. "I never heard you come in last night. Frankly, I'm surprised you managed to be here to see our guests off."

She shrugged, turning pink. "To tell you the truth, Father, I'm pretty surprised myself. I think I'm operating on all of about four hours' worth of sleep. I wanted to throw the alarm clock out the window when it went off."

Roarke laughed. "Apparently your evening with Christian was a great success. I'm happy to see that you enjoyed yourself. What time has he planned to resume work on the website today?"

"He said he'd be over around ten," Leslie said. "That should give us time to take care of whatever needs to be done before we get back to work on that."

Roarke immediately noticed a difference in the atmosphere surrounding Christian and Leslie when the prince arrived with his notes and designs; they seemed self-conscious at first, casting each other frequent furtive glances, before Christian asked, "What do you think about having both your photos posted on the site? Perhaps just a little personal information as well, such as how you happened to acquire Fantasy Island and begin operating it as the unique business it is?"

Leslie looked dubious. "I don't know," she demurred. "When I went overseas two years ago, people recognized me from what was then the latest brochure we'd had printed up and shipped to travel agencies around the world. It was really weird, and I'm not sure I like the feeling. But if Father wants to…"

"No, I think not," Roarke said. "There's no need to publicize ourselves; we are focusing on the resort and the business, not the proprietor and his assistant."

"I understand," Christian said and then eyed Leslie sidelong. "Anyhow, who would want to see such a homely face on their computer screens?"

"You watch out, or I'll decorate yours with a matched set of shiners," Leslie retorted. Christian's eyes widened, and then they both exploded with laughter, surprising Roarke yet again but evoking a slightly puzzled smile from him. After that, the banter flowed back and forth like water in a stream; Christian and Leslie were both aware that Roarke found their give-and-take a bit bewildering, although he occasionally joined in with an unexpected bon mot that made them roar with merriment.

They had agreed on the home page and two sub-pages for the site before they decided to break up the business meeting for the day and attend to other matters. Christian turned to Leslie at that point and asked, "So are you free, as you mentioned last evening?"

"As far as I know," Leslie said and deferred to Roarke. "Father?"

Roarke looked thoughtfully at her, then smiled. "There's nothing pressing, no, so you may have the rest of the day to yourself. Christian, if you wish, you might join us for dinner this evening, unless you and Leslie have made other plans."

"That sounds wonderful, Mr. Roarke, thank you." Christian turned to Leslie. "Let me go and change my clothes, and then we can spend our day exploring the island."

"Sure," she said. He left the house, and Roarke promptly reached across the desk and caught Leslie's arm before she could head for the stairs.

"One moment," he said. "It appears to me that yours and Christian's friendship has reached a new level, since you and he exchanged a great many friendly insults." His dark eyes had that amused gleam in them, and she grinned.

"I think it has," she agreed. "We just couldn't stop talking all the way through dinner. The poor waiters at the restaurant were hanging around the door hoping we'd finally get the hint and let them go home." She giggled sheepishly at his raised eyebrow. "It's just fun to be with him, and he's so different from the usual image of royalty, I keep forgetting he's a prince. I can't remember when I've been this much at ease with a friend, so soon after first meeting. I really do enjoy his company."

Roarke nodded contemplatively. "I see. In that case, enjoy yourselves, and I'll see you both at dinner this evening." He watched her trot upstairs to change her clothes, well aware that there was more to this so-called friendship than Leslie let on—more than perhaps even she herself was aware of. He had no intention of putting any roadblocks in their way: on the contrary, he was very pleased. It was long past time Leslie let down the guard she kept around her heart.

Over the next several days, Christian and Leslie spent as much of their free time together as possible; in the meantime, Christian began to put the actual website together on the computer, and by Friday afternoon the home page had been uploaded to the Internet along with four sub-pages. By then the two had been all over the island: they'd done horseback riding, gone swimming, rented bikes, visited the amusement park and even gone to the casino, where Christian had lost about a hundred dollars before wisely calling it quits. On Friday, Christian did the uploading alone in the main house, since both Roarke and Leslie were busy making the final preparations for the weekend guests' arrival. They came back together about four-thirty and found Christian sitting at the computer, testing the live version of the new site.

"How goes it?" Roarke inquired amiably, as he and Leslie approached the computer desk to peer over Christian's shoulder at his creation.

"I'm just testing the first five pages now," Christian said. "The home page seems to be working with no problems. I've been able to easily access the accommodations page, the pricing and airfare page, the amenities page and the page with the charter-plane schedules. All that's left to put together now is the page for those who wish to request fantasies."

"How exactly are you thinking of planning that, Father?" Leslie asked with interest.

"As we discussed before," Roarke said, "I still prefer that people mail in their fantasy requests. Quite frankly, Christian, I don't think there will be much to that particular web page. The price of a fantasy is highly negotiable, and I cannot assign a dollar amount to any particular one. There are as many individual fantasies as there are individuals."

Leslie tipped her head. "But we do have the perennials," she pointed out. "Remember how Tattoo always used to complain about having to play the title role in countless Red Baron fantasies? That one's still a pretty hot seller, and there are the other usual suspects—being a millionaire; being a movie star, a rock star, a famous author or artist, or a model; wanting to meet a favorite celebrity; being royalty for a weekend…"

"That's a common fantasy?" Christian broke in, interest piqued by Leslie's last example. "If only they knew how tedious being royal can be!"

Leslie grinned. "Christian, dear heart, some things can't be learned except through experience, and that just happens to be one of them. Most people who have that fantasy leave here feeling kind of sorry for Princess Diana."

Christian laughed. "I'm sure they do. How often do you get that request?"

"At least twice a month," Leslie told him and turned back to her father. "So since we do have a lot of repeat fantasies, it might be worthwhile to list the most popular ones, maybe the top ten or something, and figure out some sort of going rate for them."

Roarke thought about it for a moment and nodded. "That's a good point, Leslie," he said. "Very well, you and I can work that out later this evening after we have completed the preparations for the weekend and have had dinner. I believe the design for that page will be very simple, Christian, and it should take you hardly any time at all to add to the site."

Christian smiled. "I agree. All right, then, other than that, your site is ready." He stood up and extended a hand toward the computer. "If you'd like to examine it yourself, Mr. Roarke?"

Roarke agreed and sat in front of the computer, navigating through the different pages while Leslie looked on from beside him. "Very well done," Roarke said, impressed. "I am extremely pleased with the final result, Christian, and should anyone ask, I will highly recommend your services. I thank you most heartily."

"Thank you, Mr. Roarke, and I appreciate the recommendation. Your endorsement will be the most persuasive one I've ever received." They all laughed. "Is there anything else you need at the moment?"

"No, and Leslie is free for the remainder of the evening," Roarke added with a smile. "Why don't you two enjoy yourselves, and do come back for dinner. Mariki has noted the fact that you two have been eating out rather often, and has taken rather vocal exception to it. Your presence here will reassure her."

"Plus, it'll stop her complaining," Leslie added knowingly, smirking. "I guess you've had to bear the brunt of her carrying on. Okay, tell her we'll be here, but see if she can wait till about seven to serve the meal, if that's all right with you."

Roarke said, "That should be satisfactory. I have quite a bit of work to clear up here at any rate. Enjoy your afternoon, you two."

Deciding they had earned a good rest, they changed into swimsuits and met at the fountain in the lane, taking a jeep from there and heading for a quiet beach some distance removed from the more populated ones frequented by guests. Leslie parked the jeep in a turnaround on the Ring Road and led the way down a series of stone steps painstakingly set in the ground centuries before by native islanders. A warm, salt-encrusted breeze freshened as they descended to the beach and plowed through the fine sand almost to the waterline.

"This looks good," Leslie decided and dropped a beach bag and a towel onto the sand. "I think I'll go wading for a bit. Want to join me?"

Christian sighed and dropped his own gear, then indulged in a long luxurious stretch. "No, all I want is to lie flat and not think about anything. You enjoy yourself over there, but come back and lie beside me. Looking at you will help me not to think."

She peered at him with some confusion. "Is that good or bad?"

"It's extremely good," Christian said, chuckling at her puzzled look. "Believe me, every time you're around, I lose the ability to think, because you intoxicate me. Wait here before you go anywhere." Leaving her standing there, he jogged across the sand back toward the stone steps they'd just descended, where an unusual rosebush maintained a tenacious grip on some hidden soil in the cliff about halfway up. Leslie watched him climb up to its level, pluck off one of the many blooms that crammed its branches, and return to her, slicing off the thorns with a pocket knife on his way back.

"What are you doing with that?" she asked.

"Putting it here," he said, reaching up to twine the stem of the little flower in her hair. "I've never seen a rose of this color before." It was pale yellow with deep magenta outlining the end of each petal in a short crescent.

"Oh…those are exclusive to Fantasy Island," Leslie said. "They grow wild all over the place here, but this is the only spot on earth you'll ever find them."

"Then it's rare enough to befit you," he returned with a smile. "There. Does it have a name, even a botanical one?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. They're so common around here, I think we've all stopped really noticing them."

He cradled her face in his hands and tilted her head back a little. "Then I think I'll call it the Leslie Rose. And maybe you, too." He grinned at her when she rolled her eyes. "All right, my Leslie Rose, go do your wading and have some fun. I'll be stretched out on my towel, soaking up the sun and waiting for you."

"Just for the record," she said with a teasing grin, "my name isn't Leslie Rose, it's Leslie Susan. I thought you might want to know that."

"I like my name for you better," Christian said dismissively, and she laughed before heading toward the ocean. He grinned, watching her with appreciation, then spread out his towel and lay back on it, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes.

Leslie cooled her tired feet in the shallows and let the waves break over her shins, watching the tiny white triangles of sailboats crossing the ocean from a marina that served the Enclave. After about fifteen minutes or so, she strolled back toward where Christian lay, his features relaxed; he appeared to have dozed off. She eyed him, then smiled wickedly to herself and pulled out a bottle of sunscreen from her bag, unscrewing the cap and going back to the water to fill it. When she came back, she stood where she wouldn't block the sun shining on him and alert him to her presence, and slowly tipped the cap till the water poured out onto his chest.

Christian bolted into a sitting position and shouted something very loud and rude-sounding in jordiska; Leslie dropped the cap and fled, bursting into laughter at the same time. "You won't get away with that!" Christian bellowed after her and scrambled to his feet in hot pursuit. She pounded down the beach and he followed, rapidly gaining on her, both of them laughing, till he eventually caught up and snagged her from behind.

"Now you'll pay for that," Christian growled at her in exaggerated rage, pulling a playful ogre-like grimace that made her laugh all the harder and robbed her of what little breath she had left. "I have you exactly where I want you."

Leslie struggled to get enough air to talk. "And just where would that be?"

His features softened and grew serious. "Right here in my arms," he replied, and so saying, he kissed her. It was actually the first time he'd done so since their initial dinner date the previous Sunday evening, and it was completely unexpected to Leslie, who had settled into a lively friendship with Christian. But this time there was no wine affecting her senses—and she still fell headlong into the kiss, returning it with fervor equal to his.

Minutes, or eons, drifted by; she had no idea which and didn't care. When at last he drew back from her, she felt bereft, even though he gathered her in close and trailed soft wisps of kisses along her cheek toward her hair. "I love you, my Leslie Rose," he breathed, so softly she barely heard it. Caught in his spell, she didn't react, merely let herself steep in his embrace and the scent and feel of him. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder, reveling in the welcome warmth of his hands roaming her back and his face in her hair as he nuzzled her and murmured now and then in his native tongue.

Then the screech of a seagull broke through their dreamy detachment from the world and made them look up and around them. The sun was about to sink into the sea and there were long shadows across the sand from the escarpment behind them.

"I suppose we should go back," Christian said reluctantly, slowly releasing Leslie. "I wouldn't want to be late for dinner and subject poor Mr. Roarke to more of your Mariki's grumbling." He smiled teasingly, but the mood was still mellow, and she simply smiled back and nodded.

"Well, then, let's go. Don't forget your stuff." They walked back hand in hand now, neither in a particular hurry, and gathered their belongings in a comfortable silence, climbing the stone steps back to where the jeep waited for them. Christian took the wheel this time and they drove back to the main house, speculating on what Mariki might be serving for dinner and laughing when they got there and found they were right on several counts.

Both exhausted, they parted ways for the night, and Roarke settled behind the desk once more to clear away the last of the day's mail while Leslie retreated to her room. After a good hour or so, Roarke looked at the clock and realized she had never come back down; the house was unusually silent. It was almost nine-thirty and probably a good time to stop working, he decided. He tidied the desk, turned out the lamp and made his way upstairs, noticing halfway up that there were no lights on in the upper rooms. Frowning in surprise, he topped the steps and turned on the hallway light, glancing into Leslie's room and then looking again, more closely. The light revealed her sitting on the bed, staring into space.

Concerned, Roarke moved into the room and turned on her bedside lamp, reaching out and laying a hand on her shoulder. "Leslie, what's wrong?"

She turned her head and stared at him; the sight oddly reminded him of her as a teenager, with the frightened, pleading, lost look she had so often had in her first days on the island. "I didn't want to do it," she said in a helpless voice. "I told myself it was just friendship, but it still happened, and I can't deal with it. I can't keep going on like this."

Roarke settled onto the bed beside her. "Like what?"

"I've been falling in love with Christian," Leslie said as if making a confession. "I tried not to, but I couldn't stop it!"

Roarke regarded her with a knowing, sympathetic smile, reaching out and smoothing her hair back from her face. "Now tell me, child, why on earth would you wish to stop it? Are you so frightened of your feelings for him?"

"But what about Teppo?" Leslie protested.

Understanding dawned. "Ah," Roarke murmured. "You feel that you are betraying Teppo's memory." She nodded vigorously. "Leslie, sweetheart, finding love again is not a betrayal of the love you shared with Teppo. Far from it: it's a renewal, an affirmation of life and living. It means that you have moved ahead and gone on with your life."

"But he'd…" Leslie began.

Roarke shook his head, smiling a little. "Leslie, think back to the first fantasy you helped to grant after you became my assistant. You told me that you saw Teppo's spirit for a few moments, and that he spoke to you to say goodbye. Do you remember what he said?"

She cast her mind back six years and reviewed Teppo's words, wondering what her father was getting at. "We talked about the vial, and the choices I made after he died…"

"Yes, go on," Roarke encouraged.

Leslie closed her eyes to concentrate on the memory. "He said I did exactly the right thing with that vial of tears his mother had kept, and that he and I could both go on—"

"Exactly so," Roarke broke in gently, making her open her eyes and stare at him in surprise. "He said that you could go on. He never meant for you to put your heart in storage for the sake of his memory, my child. Believe me, he wouldn't want you to bury yourself in the past, to become a walking monument to him and prevent yourself from living your life to its fullest." He placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her head. "Give in to the love you are feeling for Christian, Leslie. Let yourself go. Give yourself and Christian—and Teppo as well—the gift of opening your heart to him, and see where it takes you. Love is too precious and elusive an emotion to turn away when it comes to you."

She processed this for a minute. "So you think Teppo would approve if he knew?"

"There is no doubt in my mind," Roarke assured her, his smile broadening. "Accept the emotion, sweetheart. More than that—welcome it, revel in it. Let it take you where it will. You'll find yourself rewarded many times over." He took in the lingering doubt in her eyes. "Loving Christian doesn't take anything away from your love for Teppo. There will always be a place for him in your heart. But the best thing you can do with your love is to give it to a living recipient—and it will be returned to you in equal measure."

Leslie considered that and finally nodded slowly. "That makes sense," she said, and peered up at Roarke a touch sheepishly. "In all honesty, I wanted to let myself fall, but I just felt as if I were celebrating when Teppo couldn't be with me."

"Life should be lived," Roarke said with quiet conviction. "Your mother would have told you that, and so would Teppo. That is the best tribute you can make to those who have departed this existence. Remember them, yes—but never let it rule your every decision. They would never want that for you. If you are indeed in love with Christian, then by all means, don't resist."

A smile gradually spread over her features, and she leaned forward and hugged him. "You know, the more I think about it, the more I think you're right. Thank you, Father. Where in the world do you get all that wisdom?"

"Life, pure and simple," Roarke replied, grinning. "Now, since we both must be up early tomorrow, I suggest you get some sleep." He patted her shoulder and arose. "Good night, Leslie."

"See you in the morning," she said and watched him leave, a small reflective smile on her features. Maybe, just maybe, it's okay to give my heart. Let's see where this takes us. With that thought in mind, she snapped out the lamp and slid beneath the bedcovers, looking forward to whatever lay ahead.