One word. That was all he said but it told the whole story. Not waiting for an answer, Rock turned away, leaving the door wide open, and headed back into the suite.
Not knowing what else to do, Dana stepped inside, closed the door behind her, and followed him into the living room but by then Rock was already back inside his bedroom.
Dana paused. So what was she to do now? Obviously he was in bad shape and probably needed help. She followed him into the bedroom.
Rock was sprawled on top of the king-sized bed in the middle of the room, his arm flung over his eyes. Slowly, Dana stepped forward until she was standing right by the bed. She didn’t know if he even remembered that she was there, but she needed to do something.
“Rock,” she said softly, “can I get you anything?”
His response was a low groan. “Sorry, Dana,” he said with a sigh. “This hasn’t happened to me in years. Not since college.” He groaned. “It must have been something I ate.”
She leaned down and touched his arm. “What should I do? Should I call a doctor? Get you some medicine, maybe?” She felt so helpless, watching him suffer, not knowing what to do.
“No. Just a cool washcloth.” His voice was a barely audible sigh. “A cool washcloth on my forehead will do the trick.” For a moment he was silent then he spoke again, his voice a little stronger this time. “It attacked me about four o’clock this morning. I guess I finally drifted off to sleep about an hour ago.”
“I was calling you on the phone. There was no answer.”
“Couldn’t hear a thing. Too exhausted.”
And that word reminded Dana that she had to shut up. Rock didn’t need her questions, not now when he was in pain. She left his side and hurried to the bathroom to get him the washcloth he’d asked for.
She was on her way back to him, washcloth in hand, when she paused to stare at him as he lay on the bed. She couldn’t help it. His body was so beautiful. His bare chest, broad and muscled, rose and fell as he breathed. The arm he’d flung across his face was rippled and firm and his legs had muscles in all the right places. He lay there, so big, so strong, yet still human. Dana pulled herself from her reverie and moved close to Rock as he lay on the bed. “I have your washcloth,” she whispered.
At the sound of her voice he slid his arm down and she rested the folded cloth across his eyes. He sighed, sounding as if she had soothed the heat that raged in his head. “Thanks,” he breathed, then after a minute of silence he spoke again. “Sorry, Dana. We’ll have to do the island tour later. I just need some sleep then I’ll be fine.”
Dana knew it was not her business to be there but she was loath to leave his side. “Do you…do you want me to stay with you?”
“No,” he said with a low groan. “Not fair to you.”
“I don’t mind,” she began but his voice broke in.
“Can’t have you…listening to me snore. You already think I’m not human. My snoring would…confirm it.”
Dana smiled even though he couldn’t see her through the washcloth. She couldn’t believe that, even in his pain, he was making jokes. She was seeing yet another side of Rock, the complete opposite of the man she’d known at the office, and she liked this view.
“Keep your cell phone on. I’ll call you.”
At those words, Dana gave him a soft pat on the shoulder and left the room. She knew when she was being dismissed. She wanted to stay but she would not force herself on him. She walked through the suite, went out the door, and closed it softly behind her. As she waited for the elevator her thoughts went back to what Rock had said. She smiled to herself as she pictured him lying in bed, fast asleep, snoring. What would it be like to wake up and find Rock snoring softly beside her?
Why did the thought set her heart to racing when she knew that it would never happen? They were from two different worlds, she and Rock, and as much as she wanted to fool herself that their two kisses meant something, she knew she was in fantasy land.
She and Rock? It would never happen, not in a thousand years.
**
Dana got the call at twelve thirty that afternoon. “Hope you’re hungry because I’m starving.”
She laughed. “Sounds like you’re back to normal. I remember how healthy your appetite was at dinner.”
“I’ll bring the car around and we’ll find a local restaurant where we can get some real Bahamian food,” he said into the phone. “I was given some recommendations.”
“Sounds good,” she said. “I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“And Dana, no business suits, please. Today, just relax and be yourself.”
That made her raise her eyebrows. Be herself? How did he know what she was really like? But still, she was glad for the permission to dress down.
Within minutes of the call she was on her way down in the elevator, dressed in a pink polo shirt, white cargo pants and sandals. She’d hooked a pair of sunshades onto the neck of her shirt and plopped a sun visor on her brow. She’d been told that August was one of the hottest months of the year in the Bahamas and she wanted to be prepared.
She crossed the hotel lobby and exited the front door just as Rock pulled up in a gleaming black Mercedes Benz convertible. As he waved to her, the Caribbean breeze ruffling through his dark-blonde hair, she gave a light laugh, skipped down the steps and hopped into the waiting car.
“Come on, lady,” he said as he stepped on the gas, “we have an island to tour.”
They set off past the golf course and over the bridge leading from Paradise Island to the mainland then headed up Bay Street. The restaurant Rock had selected was near Saunders Beach. The Island Turtle served all of the popular local dishes such as cracked conch and conch fritters. But if Rock had thought that she would dive into the local fare, he was rudely disappointed.
“I’m sorry.” Dana felt like a wet blanket but it wasn’t her fault. “I don’t eat shell fish but I will try the yellow tail. Promise.” And she was happy with her choice. The fish was delicious. Rock seemed to be enjoying his meal, too, because he called for seconds. The man certainly had an appetite.