Escape From Reality (7 page)

Drawing a deep
breath, she sank lower, staring ahead into the deep blue, images of mermaids
and kraken rising in her mind. She moved forward, mesmerized by the idea of
floating above all that vast empty space.

But then, for a
moment, the water in front of her seemed to shimmer, wavering like light
reflected on a pane of glass. A wash of chill water surrounded her and she
retreated, pushing off from the bottom, heading for the sunlit surface.

Instead of
rising, her body jerked back toward the bottom, pain slicing across her ankle.
Twisting, she looked down. Her right foot was wedged in a crevice between two
sharp rocks. A small cloud of crimson stained the water and a chill passed
through Leila, images of mermaids replaced by that of sharks.

Kicking hard
with her other leg, she pushed against the water with her hands, but she only
succeeded in tearing the flesh of her ankle. She changed her tactic, sinking
down, feeling along her leg with her hands and trying to turn her foot so it
would be free of the rocks. But she was stuck. Her lungs burned and panic took
over as she beat against the rocks with her fists.

The world
turned into a chaotic mass of bubbles and churning water as she kicked and
clawed upward, frantically trying to reach the surface.

Suddenly,
something tugged her back down and she twisted again. Through a screen of
bubbles she saw a man, his hands wrapped around her leg. With incredible
strength he pulled her down toward the rocks, forcibly bending her knee. His
hand slid down the top of her foot, pressing against it. His eyes met hers and
he pressed again and she understood: point her toes.

Immediately her
foot slid from the rocks. The man moved to her side, one arm around her waist,
and with a powerful kick they rose to the surface.

As Leila’s face
broke through the surface of the water, she threw back her head, mouth open,
dragging air into her starved lungs. The man held her easily as he tread water,
keeping both of them afloat. Leila had the overwhelming urge to throw her arms
around his neck but she drew another deep breath, forcing herself to relax, to
stay calm.

The man began
swimming toward the shore, arm still firmly around Leila’s waist. It took only
a few strong strokes for them to reach shallow water. Leila tried to stand but
before she could even get her feet on the sand, the man scooped her up,
carrying her through the shallow water. He set her gently on the sand.

Out of the
water, Leila was instantly conscious of being naked, drawing her knees to her
chest. As if reading her mind, the man reached down and picked up a shirt from
the sand, holding it out to her, averting his eyes as she rose.

“Here. This
should work.”

Leila took the
shirt and the man turned away as she slipped her arms into the sleeves. But he
didn’t turn completely; she caught a glimpse of his face as he glanced back
over his shoulder, his eyes moving over her body

She looked down
as she fumbled with the buttons of the shirt, her fingers suddenly clumsy. The
shirt just reached to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her.

The man turned
back as she finished the last button. For the first time, she took a good look
at his face and she gasped, taking an involuntary step backward.

‘Green eyes,
almost arrogant, looked out from beneath arched brows. A shock of tousled black
hair fell across his high forehead.’

Those had been
her words, her own written description of her hero. And now, as she looked at
the man who’d just saved her life, that’s exactly what she saw. The tousled
black hair was wet, but it was the same deep, raven black of her description.
The nose was long and straight, cheekbones high. His face held the same look
she’d described, the look of confidence in a man who knew what he wanted and
went after it. Who could be ruthless in that pursuit, crushing everyone in his
path. Even the woman he loved.

“Are you
alright?” His words brought her back to reality. He stood on the sand a few
feet away, shirtless, his wet jeans hugging every curve of his lower body. Leila’s
cheeks burned as she caught herself looking over every inch of him, mentally
checking off the details she’d written: broad chest, muscular arms, long legs…

She closed her
eyes and tried to stop thinking of what she’d described next, how he’d looked
naked, the sounds he’d utter while making love, what he’d smell like. The sun
was suddenly very hot and she wanted to be in the shade, away from the glare.
Maybe she’d fallen asleep on the sand and was suffering from heat stroke. That
happened sometimes to people who weren’t used to the intensity of the tropical
sun. That was it; this was all just a dream.

“Maybe you should
sit down…”

At his words, Leila’s
eyes flew open. He’d taken her arm firmly at the elbow and she looked down at
his hand. It was very real, very warm, and not very dream-like at all. She
could smell the salt on his skin, and beneath that the scent of his body as the
sun warmed him. The world began to go gray and foggy, wavering as if she were
underwater again.

As he pulled
her against his chest, Leila’s hands rose, sliding over smooth hot skin. She
blinked, watching her hands as if they belonged to someone else.

“I’m…fine. It’s
the sun…it’s so hot.” She looked up into his emerald green eyes and made a
small sound of regret. She’d neglected to describe the ring of deep blue that
circled the iris, a rather stunning feature and a detail she should never have
overlooked. Cheryl would be very disappointed in her. 

Then the world
went dark and she felt herself falling, relieved to think it would be onto the
soft, warm sand.

Chapter
Four

Leila woke
slowly, her hand sliding across the surface she was lying on. It should be
sand, warm sand, possibly even wet sand. She’d fallen asleep in the cove and
had a bad dream, but she was safe now.

But it was
fabric beneath her fingers and a mattress cradling her body.

She opened her
eyes and found herself looking up at the underside of the canopy of her bed,
the deeply carved panels holding the same floral patterns she’d looked at this
morning. Sitting up, she looked down at herself and found she was wearing the
same gown she’d slept in the night before.

In panic, she
looked at her watch. It was late afternoon, almost time for her meeting with Cheryl.

Swinging her
legs over the bed, she set her feet on the floor and stood. She cried out at
the sudden pain in her ankle and sat back, pulling her foot onto the bed. There
was a circle of abraded flesh just above her anklebone and the foot was
slightly swollen. But the wound was clean, as if someone had washed the sand
away.

She was more careful
this time. She stood gingerly, gradually putting weight on the injured foot. After
a few tentative steps, the pain subsided and she was able to walk almost
normally. Glancing down, she found her dress and lingerie folded neatly on the
bench at the foot of her bed. But the shirt the man had given her was nowhere
in sight.

The man who’d
saved her life. He must be an employee, a gardener or some other staff,
obviously someone she hadn’t met yet.

But the eerie
resemblance to her written description hung in her mind. He was exactly as
she’d described, eye and hair color, body size and shape, even his masculine
scent. Everything except the dark blue in his hypnotic green eyes.

Leila suddenly
laughed out loud. Of course, it was all part of the fantasy of the writer’s
retreat. Cheryl must be part of it, and Dominick as well. She’d read Leila’s
description of the hero and found an actor who fit the bill. Or close enough.
Tall, handsome men with dark hair were common; contacts could easily change the
color of someone’s eyes.

As if it had
been triggered by the thought of Cheryl’s name, Leila’s watch alarm sounded and
she switched it off. Tapping the watch face, she thought for a moment. She
wouldn’t let them know she’d figured out what they were up to. Playing along
would make it more interesting. Her face grew hot. Just how far would they
go?  Just how much longer would they be willing to play their part?

Shaking her
head in wonder at the amount of planning it must have taken to carry out such a
ruse, Leila shed the nightgown for the second time that day, pulling on the
lingerie and pink dress. Her shoes were by the door and she slipped them on,
wincing as she forced the right one over her swollen foot. That part was real,
no façade there, she had blood and bruises to show for her adventure.

A chill swept
over her. She could easily have drowned in the cove. Her hand trembled as she
reached for the door handle. The man who’d obviously followed her was more than
just an actor in some elaborate fantasy now. He really was her hero; he’d saved
her life.

Chapter
Five

Cheryl was
waiting for her in the dining room, and she rose as Leila entered, lightly
kissing her cheeks. Cheryl led Leila onto the terrace and took her seat,
pouring tea into Leila’s cup. Leila added a lump of sugar, stirring the amber
liquid with a silver spoon.

“Did you have a
pleasant walk around the island? Any ideas pop into your head as to how your
characters could meet in your story?” Cheryl sat back, sipping her tea.

Leila took a
swallow of the fragrant sweet tea before answering. She had never been good at
keeping secrets, but she didn’t want to announce that she knew Cheryl’s plans.

“I had a nice walk,
thank you. And yes, something rather interesting did happen.” She set her cup
down, watching Cheryl closely.

“I went for a
swim in the cove, a beautiful place. I…well, I had a bit of an accident,
nothing serious, but it made me think. I was alone, with no one around. What
if, in my story, that happened to my heroine and the hero was there to save
her? It would be organic, of the moment, not an artificial construct or a
forced situation to bring two people together.”

Leila paused
for breath, knowing her face was flushed with telling her little-white-lie
version of events. Cheryl regarded her for a moment over the edge of her
teacup.

“If you think
you can work with that, then go for it. You’ll need to have your characters act
authentically, stay in character. It might work, if you believe in it.”

Leila blew out
a sigh and sank back in her chair. “I’ll rewrite the scene where they meet
then, and leave it for you with whatever comes next.”

Cheryl nodded.
“Very good. And your next assignment will be your character’s first romantic
scene together. Your work before had a certain hesitancy to it, almost as if
you were embarrassed to write the words.”

The flush in
her cheeks intensified. “I’m…I’m a very private person, so…it’s awkward
sometimes…”

“Only you know
who your heroine really is. You’re writing fiction, Leila. And a fictitious
story that’s over the top in sensuality, with a hero who always lets his
heroine take her pleasure first, who’s capable of repeat performances over and
over, who can make love all night and serve breakfast in the morning.
Larger-than-life, but still believable.”

Leila laughed.
“Not a tall order at all, is it?” She finished the last of her tea, waving off Cheryl’s
offer of a refill, and rose.

“I’m going to
my room to write. I’ll have the assignment and my rewritten meeting scene for
you tonight.”

“Fine. I think
I’m going to stay here and enjoy the afternoon.” Cheryl turned as Leila stepped
into the cool shadows of the dining room.

“Remember, your
hero needs to take your reader’s breath away, and yours too. Your love scene
should leave you just as hungry for love as your readers. No room for
embarrassment there.”

“I’ll keep that
in mind.”

“And Leila?
Remember, you’re the heroine in this story. Put yourself into the scene, heart
and soul.”

* * *

Leila sat for a
long time at the small writing desk. The stack of paper had been replenished
and she industriously worked her way through it before sitting back and leafing
through the pages. She’d thought writing long-hand was going to be difficult,
but she’d found that the rhythmic flow of the ink over the page lulled her into
some kind of writer’s trance and the words flowed almost effortlessly.

The scene
between the hero and heroine, their first meeting, had been rewritten. It was
better, more organic, based on her experience that afternoon, but not exactly.

Of course, in
her version, the heroine didn’t faint. And the hero made passionate love to her
on the beach.

Leila wrinkled
her nose. Sand…sand would get everywhere. She crumpled the last piece of paper.
He’d carry her away to her room. Only not up so many stairs.

A soft knock on
the door broke her concentration. She set down her pen, walked across the room,
and opened the door. The hallway was empty, but on the floor near her door was
a tray with several covered plates. She bent and retrieved the tray, silently
thanking Dominick for remembering her dinner before carefully setting it down on
the wide padded window seat, laying out the feast on the deep green brocade. She
found a lovely salad, fresh fruit and cheese, and a very decadent looking
dessert. A small carafe of wine accompanied her meal. Her stomach rumbled in
anticipation and she wasted no time in diving into the food. The open window
let in the soft evening breezes, scented with the tang of the ocean and a hint
of tropical flowers. It was warmer than the previous day and while the hearth
in her room was clean, no one had lit a fire tonight.