{"id":392,"date":"2019-07-18T09:33:49","date_gmt":"2019-07-18T08:33:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/?post_type=portfolio&#038;p=392"},"modified":"2019-09-26T09:33:33","modified_gmt":"2019-09-26T08:33:33","slug":"from-antigua-with-love","status":"publish","type":"portfolio","link":"https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/books\/from-antigua-with-love\/","title":{"rendered":"From Antigua with Love"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id='av_section_1'  class='avia-section av-2qcuzc-0732f32e367421d0d306d79b3b180f36 main_color avia-section-default avia-no-shadow  avia-builder-el-0  el_before_av_section  avia-builder-el-first  avia-bg-style-scroll container_wrap fullsize'  ><div class='container av-section-cont-open' ><main  role=\"main\" itemprop=\"mainContentOfPage\"  class='template-page content  av-content-full alpha units'><div class='post-entry post-entry-type-page post-entry-392'><div class='entry-content-wrapper clearfix'>\n\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-av_heading-23f2a33f565621101743984cb6de403e\">\n#top .av-special-heading.av-av_heading-23f2a33f565621101743984cb6de403e{\npadding-bottom:10px;\n}\nbody .av-special-heading.av-av_heading-23f2a33f565621101743984cb6de403e .av-special-heading-tag .heading-char{\nfont-size:25px;\n}\n.av-special-heading.av-av_heading-23f2a33f565621101743984cb6de403e .av-subheading{\nfont-size:15px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div  class='av-special-heading av-av_heading-23f2a33f565621101743984cb6de403e av-special-heading-h3  avia-builder-el-1  el_before_av_one_half  avia-builder-el-first '><h3 class='av-special-heading-tag'  itemprop=\"headline\"  >From Antigua with Love<\/h3><div class=\"special-heading-border\"><div class=\"special-heading-inner-border\"><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-2jwqi0-c002fec154d325da3468fc284e6dae38\">\n.flex_column.av-2jwqi0-c002fec154d325da3468fc284e6dae38{\n-webkit-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n-moz-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\nborder-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\npadding:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div class='flex_column av-2jwqi0-c002fec154d325da3468fc284e6dae38 av_one_half  avia-builder-el-2  el_after_av_heading  el_before_av_one_fourth  first flex_column_div av-zero-column-padding '     ><section  class='av_textblock_section av-jy8e9bhi-fe0ba8e8541dd8db0f1058b10e581696'  itemscope=\"itemscope\" itemtype=\"https:\/\/schema.org\/CreativeWork\" ><div class='avia_textblock'  itemprop=\"text\" ><p><strong>Beautiful beaches, stunning sunsets \u2013 the perfect place to fall in love!<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Enjoy this brand new short read filled with romance, second chances and a happily ever after set on Ffryes Beach in Antigua.<\/p>\n<p>Loves a Beach! by Heidi Rice<\/p>\n<\/div><\/section><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-2cu5dk-9d3b995ca4abc4ecd36c9e7da4a14328\">\n.flex_column.av-2cu5dk-9d3b995ca4abc4ecd36c9e7da4a14328{\n-webkit-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n-moz-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\nborder-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\npadding:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div class='flex_column av-2cu5dk-9d3b995ca4abc4ecd36c9e7da4a14328 av_one_fourth  avia-builder-el-4  el_after_av_one_half  el_before_av_one_fourth  flex_column_div av-zero-column-padding '     ><\/div>\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-26snwg-cbe89c66da3b885361c3dd677aa189d1\">\n.flex_column.av-26snwg-cbe89c66da3b885361c3dd677aa189d1{\n-webkit-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n-moz-border-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\nborder-radius:0px 0px 0px 0px;\npadding:0px 0px 0px 0px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div class='flex_column av-26snwg-cbe89c66da3b885361c3dd677aa189d1 av_one_fourth  avia-builder-el-5  el_after_av_one_fourth  avia-builder-el-last  flex_column_div av-zero-column-padding '     ><p>\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-jy8ee81i-d4b5940b4cf1fe179ab542295a2aa881\">\n.avia-image-container.av-jy8ee81i-d4b5940b4cf1fe179ab542295a2aa881 img.avia_image{\nbox-shadow:none;\n}\n.avia-image-container.av-jy8ee81i-d4b5940b4cf1fe179ab542295a2aa881 .av-image-caption-overlay-center{\ncolor:#ffffff;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div  class='avia-image-container av-jy8ee81i-d4b5940b4cf1fe179ab542295a2aa881 av-styling- avia-align-center  avia-builder-el-6  el_before_av_button  avia-builder-el-first '   itemprop=\"image\" itemscope=\"itemscope\" itemtype=\"https:\/\/schema.org\/ImageObject\" ><div class=\"avia-image-container-inner\"><div class=\"avia-image-overlay-wrap\"><img class='wp-image-393 avia-img-lazy-loading-not-393 avia_image ' src='https:\/\/heidi-rice.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/07\/From-Antigua-with-Love-cover.jpeg' alt='' title='From Antigua with Love cover'  height=\"600\" width=\"400\"  itemprop=\"thumbnailUrl\"  \/><\/div><\/div><\/div><br \/>\n<div  class='avia-button-wrap av-jy8eeowl-38b6467cf37c42548abab6887c40bb7d-wrap avia-button-center  avia-builder-el-7  el_after_av_image  avia-builder-el-last '><a href=''  class='avia-button av-jy8eeowl-38b6467cf37c42548abab6887c40bb7d avia-icon_select-no avia-size-medium avia-position-center avia-color-theme-color'  ><span class='avia_iconbox_title' >Read for FREE!<\/span><\/a><\/div><\/p><\/div><\/div><\/div><\/main><!-- close content main element --><\/div><\/div><div id='av_section_2'  class='avia-section av-21j7oo-bec1473e328ee62cbe086514177742f8 alternate_color avia-section-default avia-no-shadow  avia-builder-el-8  el_after_av_section  el_before_av_layout_row  avia-bg-style-scroll container_wrap fullsize'  ><div class='container av-section-cont-open' ><div class='template-page content  av-content-full alpha units'><div class='post-entry post-entry-type-page post-entry-392'><div class='entry-content-wrapper clearfix'>\n\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-jy8ef3dv-b5efffe300f04a59f1ae80d3eb10b1ad\">\n#top .av-special-heading.av-jy8ef3dv-b5efffe300f04a59f1ae80d3eb10b1ad{\npadding-bottom:10px;\n}\nbody .av-special-heading.av-jy8ef3dv-b5efffe300f04a59f1ae80d3eb10b1ad .av-special-heading-tag .heading-char{\nfont-size:25px;\n}\n.av-special-heading.av-jy8ef3dv-b5efffe300f04a59f1ae80d3eb10b1ad .av-subheading{\nfont-size:15px;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div  class='av-special-heading av-jy8ef3dv-b5efffe300f04a59f1ae80d3eb10b1ad av-special-heading-h3 blockquote modern-quote modern-centered  avia-builder-el-9  el_before_av_textblock  avia-builder-el-first '><h3 class='av-special-heading-tag'  itemprop=\"headline\"  >Love\u2019s a Beach!<\/h3><div class=\"special-heading-border\"><div class=\"special-heading-inner-border\"><\/div><\/div><\/div>\n<section  class='av_textblock_section av-jy8erb0u-1b929cfd6b83addcfded04c00c27c56d'  itemscope=\"itemscope\" itemtype=\"https:\/\/schema.org\/CreativeWork\" ><div class='avia_textblock'  itemprop=\"text\" ><p>Melanie Sanders snapped another shot of Ffryes Beach. A butterfly fluttered into view and she laughed and carried on clicking. After posting the best shots to her social media accounts \u2013 #Ffryesbeach #solotravel #suffer \u2013 she tucked her phone into her rucksack.<\/p>\n<p>Right, no more living behind her lens, this was a holiday, which was why she had deliberately kept her camera in her rucksack all day. And anyway, her social media followers were going to hate her enough already, for being here when they weren\u2019t\u2026 Soaking up the rays, breathing in the sweet sultry air of Antigua in June and doing nothing but lying on the beach all day in between trips to Dennis\u2019s Restaurant and bouts of snorkeling in water such a pure turquoise it was hard to believe it was real.<\/p>\n<p>Slipping her sunglasses back on, Mel contemplated what to do next.<\/p>\n<p>Should she:<\/p>\n<ul>\n<li>Choice #1: Go for another snorkel?<\/li>\n<li>Choice #2: Re-dose her sunblock before she had another doze?<\/li>\n<li>Choice #4: Or head to Dennis\u2019s to grab a table on the veranda ahead of the supper crowd?<\/li>\n<\/ul>\n<p>Her stomach grumbled. Dennis\u2019s was looking like a winner. But she needed more time to debate her menu options \u2013 Curried Goat or Jerk Chicken? She fished out her sunscreen, but as she flipped the cap, a sleek yacht, its sails billowing industriously, glided into view. She dropped the sunscreen as the yacht anchored off shore.<\/p>\n<p>There was only one person on board. A guy.<\/p>\n<p>Curious, she broke her own golden rule and fished her camera out, clicked in the telephoto lens, and stared into the viewfinder.<\/p>\n<p><em>Wow<\/em>. Not just a guy. A seriously hot guy wearing trunks, a ball cap pulled low over his features and not a lot else.<\/p>\n<p><em>Voila! Choice #4. Objectify hot guy on boat. <\/em><\/p>\n<p>Mel grinned as she settled in for the show.<\/p>\n<p>He worked diligently and efficiently, as if he\u2019d handled the rigging a thousands times. Even with the telephoto lens though it was impossible to make out his features, but it was still a great show.<\/p>\n<p>Until he stopped, his head lifted and he stared directly at her.<\/p>\n<p>Could he see her spying on him? Goosebumps rippled over her skin. Why did he seem vaguely familiar?<\/p>\n<p>She lowered the camera \u2013 a bit freaked out. She didn\u2019t want to get arrested for leisure stalking.<\/p>\n<p>The guy disappeared below decks. She let out a breath. The tension easing out of her spine.<\/p>\n<p><em>Show\u2019s over.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Mel frowned, surprised by the thrum of disappointment. She had not come on this holiday looking for romance, or even a no-strings hook-up. She was a successful fashion photographer, she didn\u2019t need a guy in her life. And sex was overrated.<\/p>\n<p>A flush rippled over her skin.<\/p>\n<p>Okay, maybe not <em>all<\/em> sex was overrated. The first time she\u2019d tried it, she\u2019d enjoyed it, a lot, eventually, after getting past the awkward. But the guy himself had been a total jerk.<\/p>\n<p><em>Jack<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>The name \u2013 if that was even his name \u2013 echoed across her consciousness unlocking the memories she\u2019d shut away a decade ago.<\/p>\n<p>But for the first time in a long time, she couldn\u2019t seem to lock them down. Suddenly she wasn\u2019t on a beach in Antigua but in Edinburgh University\u2019s photolab on the Photography BA course\u2019s open day.<\/p>\n<p>She could feel his arm brushing against hers as they reached for the same Leica. See Jack\u2019s firm sensual lips, his emerald-green eyes lit by that cute, wicked smile.<\/p>\n<p>The lilt of a Calypso tune drifting down the beach was drowned out by the sound of Jack\u2019s slow as molasses accent telling her he wasn\u2019t a Yank, he was a Southern boy and there was a heap of difference.<\/p>\n<p>She could taste the picnic they\u2019d shared of Scotch Eggs and Iron Bru after killing themselves climbing Castle Rock. And the salty aroma of his skin in the budget motel where she\u2019d been too embarrassed to tell him he was her first, until he\u2019d told her she was his.<\/p>\n<p>Mel shivered despite the June sunshine.<\/p>\n<p>And like a dope, she\u2019d believed him. Only to wake up the following morning next to an empty pillow with a note on it saying \u2018Call Me\u2019 above a fake number. And nothing else\u2026 Not even a surname.<\/p>\n<p><em>Jack<\/em>.<\/p>\n<p>The guy she\u2019d loved for twenty-four wonderful hours, until he\u2019d broken her heart.<\/p>\n<p>Mel tried to shake the kaleidoscope of memories from her head. Why was she suddenly re-evaluating them now? Maybe she was getting sunstroke? Or relaxation fatigue?<\/p>\n<p>She never thought about Jack the Jerk \u2013 or the na\u00efve, too-eager girl she\u2019d been then. That long-ago betrayal certainly had no place in her holiday of a lifetime.<\/p>\n<p>She lifted her camera, staring through the lens to concentrate her wayward thoughts as she searched the boat deck again.<\/p>\n<p><em>Come on, hot mystery muscle guy, where are you? I\u2019m in dire need of a distraction so I don\u2019t take another trip down Fake Memory Lane.<\/em><\/p>\n<p>Suddenly the lens went black and a gruff Alabama accent which had every one of Mel\u2019s freak-out sensors going from five to ninety in a heartbeat \u2013 said:<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Why the heck are you taking pictures of me, ma\u2019am?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>Mel dropped the camera, her fingers numb.<\/p>\n<p>Her heartbeat accelerated into the danger zone as she blinked at the tall guy dripping onto her towel, his wet hair swept back off handsome features she could see all too clearly now.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018<em>Jack<\/em>?\u2019 she squealed, as her mind told her she had to be dreaming. Or having some weird out of body experience.<\/p>\n<p>Unfortunately, the hot, glowing weight in her abdomen wasn\u2019t buying it as it exploded across her nerve-endings.<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\">* * *<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Melly?\u2019 Jack was so shocked to see the woman he\u2019d dreamed about pretty much every damn day for a decade \u2013 her features as gorgeous as he\u2019d tried not to remember them \u2013 her name came out on a girly squeak. He would have been embarrassed about that at another time, in another life, but the reaction battering his body was way too extreme for him to care.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Is it actually you?\u2019 he managed at last as he searched her stunned expression.<\/p>\n<p>Damn, but she was still so beautiful \u2013 her long limbs and high breasts in that excuse for a bikini having a predictable effect. He struggled to ignore it, the heat making him feel exposed and needy\u2026 And a damn fool.<\/p>\n<p>He\u2019d dived off the starboard side of the yacht and swum to shore so he could catch his mystery stalker. And rip her a new one, before he threatened her with an injunction and confiscated her camera equipment. He\u2019d assumed she was a journalist, or a paparazzi. Invasions of his privacy were his trigger ever since Travel Trails\u2019 stock flotation had turned him into a billionaire five years back.<\/p>\n<p>What he hadn\u2019t been prepared for was to have his past slap him in the face.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018I\u2026 Yes,\u2019 she stuttered. \u2018Am I dreaming?\u2019 she whispered, her voice so low and shaky he wasn\u2019t sure she was talking to him.<\/p>\n<p>Okay, she looked more stunned than he did. Her turquoise eyes \u2013 which still reminded him of the sea off this very beach \u2013 had gone glassy and opaque, as if she was struggling to stay conscious.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Please tell me I\u2019m dreaming?\u2019 she said.<\/p>\n<p>The plea made his heart stumble and his ribs become tight and achy \u2013 the same way they had for days, weeks, hell even months ten years back when he\u2019d waited for her call and it had never come.<\/p>\n<p>He rubbed his chest, the ache getting worse.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018You\u2019re not dreaming, it\u2019s me,\u2019 he said, and forced himself to drop his fist. He didn\u2019t want her to see she could still make him ache.<\/p>\n<p>What was with that anyway? He\u2019d gotten over her, a long time ago.<\/p>\n<p>But even as he tried to persuade himself, she stood up and he noticed the tremble in her fingers as she thrust her wild chestnut hair behind her ear and the tremor in her knees as she straightened. The pang of regret shot through him and he knew it wasn\u2019t true.<\/p>\n<p>Despite everything, despite all this time, he wasn\u2019t over her at all.<\/p>\n<p>Was that why he\u2019d always been compelled to anchor his yacht <em>The Scottish Lady<\/em> off Ffryes Beach in June \u2013 around the time they\u2019d met. Why he\u2019d given the boat that name? Because he\u2019d never been able to forget her, or one of the many conversations they\u2019d had that day when he\u2019d told her about this beach, and her eyes \u2013 which he\u2019d been too embarrassed to tell her were the exact same colour as the water here \u2013 had lit up and she\u2019d told him she\u2019d love to visit.<\/p>\n<p>Had he believed somewhere in his subconscious that when he hadn\u2019t been able to track her down in Edinburgh, he might find her here?<\/p>\n<p>The question that had burned inside him for so long rose to his lips\u2026 And he couldn\u2019t swallow it down, no matter how exposed it made him feel.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Why didn\u2019t you ever call?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>The glassy look cleared from her eyes, and a sharp frown flattened her brows. Anger, and resentment leapt into the deep blue depths, but behind it was something else. The same crushing hurt he had felt for so long.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Why didn\u2019t I\u2026?\u2019 She sputtered, outraged. \u2018I called you a hundred times. But you gave me a fake number, you jerk!\u2019<\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center\">* * *<\/p>\n<p>Mel was so upset she could hardly breathe. She was in shock, trying to get her knees to lock and her mind to engage was a major struggle. Given that the only man she had ever loved had just appeared from the Caribbean sea like a merman \u2013 the hard muscles and sinews of his body even hotter than before \u2013 and accused <em>her<\/em> of not calling <em>him<\/em>, was it any surprise she was hyperventilating?<\/p>\n<p>\u2018What number did I give you?\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n<p>She reeled off the number, surprised she still knew it by heart.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Oh\u2026 Hell.\u2019 His voice broke. \u2018That\u2019s\u2026 The wrong number.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018I <em>know<\/em>,\u2019 she replied, the breathlessness getting worse at the look of horror on his face.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Jeeze, Mel I\u2019m so sorry. I screwed up. I was freaking out, because of my dad, my Mom had texted me to tell me he\u2019d had a stroke and it was so dark in that room.\u2019 Something was happening to her heart as he spoke, the concrete it had been encased in for so long cracking open, and letting hope flood in. \u2018Plus I\u2019ve always been kinda dyslexic.\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018You didn\u2019t do it deliberately?\u2019 She whispered. \u2018\u2026Because you never wanted to see me again?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Are you kidding me? No way!\u2019<\/p>\n<p>At last he touched her, his hands chilled from the sea gripping her upper arms to drag her into his embrace. He tucked her unresisting body against his chest, holding her the way he had that night so long ago.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Melly, I\u2019m so sorry. I had to go. I didn\u2019t want to wake you. But when you didn\u2019t call me, I figured I\u2019d imagined the connection between us.\u2019 He was rambling, stumbling over the words.<\/p>\n<p>She wrapped her arms around him, trying to soothe him, not easy when the conflagration in her heart was bursting over her body like fireworks.<\/p>\n<p>He hadn\u2019t tricked her. He hadn\u2019t used her. Every single thing that had happened that day had been real.<\/p>\n<p>He framed her face in unsteady hands. \u2018Please tell me, there isn\u2019t anyone else?\u2019<\/p>\n<p>She shook her head, too choked to talk.<\/p>\n<p>He flushed. \u2018You wanna go for a sail? Or to Dennis\u2019s \u2013 it\u2019s the restaurant on the beach, remember I told you about it?\u2019<\/p>\n<p><em>Good grief, yes he had. <\/em><\/p>\n<p>The conversation came flooding back, so raw and real and vivid.<\/p>\n<p>Was that why she\u2019d chosen to come to Antigua? Why she\u2019d gravitated towards Ffryes Beach? Because of his comments about this place so long ago that she&#8217;d forced herself to forget? It had to be.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018I\u2019d love to go for a sail,\u2019 she said.<\/p>\n<p>The grin that spread across his features made her heart sing with the same joyous beat as one of Dennis\u2019s Soca tunes.<\/p>\n<p>\u2018Awesome.\u2019<\/p>\n<\/div><\/section>\n<\/p>\n<\/div><\/div><\/div><!-- close content main div --><\/div><\/div><div id='av-layout-grid-1'  class='av-layout-grid-container av-1wiveg-b0342f93c180a0fca2d5448daf697d4d entry-content-wrapper main_color av-flex-cells  avia-builder-el-11  el_after_av_section  avia-builder-el-last  grid-row-not-first  container_wrap fullsize'  >\n\n<style type=\"text\/css\" data-created_by=\"avia_inline_auto\" id=\"style-css-av-1ruq5s-4c0c19d76ef0b2842aaf9ee2b2753c68\">\n.flex_cell.av-1ruq5s-4c0c19d76ef0b2842aaf9ee2b2753c68{\nvertical-align:top;\nbackground-color:#425f9c;\n}\n.responsive #top #wrap_all .flex_cell.av-1ruq5s-4c0c19d76ef0b2842aaf9ee2b2753c68{\npadding:30px 30px 30px 30px !important;\n}\n<\/style>\n<div class='flex_cell 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