Artful Love: A Short Summer Love Story (new adult/contemporary romance) (5 page)

Title: Storm at Isla de Margarita

Artist: Roberto Ramirez

My heart skipped a beat. How did Roberto’s painting end up in this gallery, of all places? Had some tourist bought his work and decided to put it up for sale? When I looked around the gallery, I spotted more of his paintings, and I realized that this art show was going to be his big breakthrough. Of course I was happy for him, but deep in my heart I felt something else—regret that I had not talked to him before I left, that I hadn’t even said goodbye to him.

Deep in thought, I startled when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Jessica.”

I turned around. It was Roberto, looking breathtakingly handsome dressed in designer jeans and a pin-striped dress shirt with the top buttons undone. I swallowed. He looked even better than I remembered.
 

“Roberto.”
 

He rested both his hands on my shoulders and gazed at me intently. “You look so beautiful tonight. You don’t know how much I missed you.”

“So have I.” I gazed longingly at his gorgeous chiseled face, remembering the feel of his soft lips on mine, his hard body against mine.

Roberto’s brows drew into a frown. “Jess, tell me, why did you leave me?”

I averted my gaze, swallowing back tears. “I found out why you really wanted to marry me. But it’s all over now. You don’t have to pretend any longer.”

“What do you mean, pretend?”

“Come on, Roberto. I’m not completely stupid. It was the cruise captain who told me how people like you operate. They’d do anything to get into the US. Gullible women like me are an easy target.”

“Is that what you thought of me? That I wanted to marry you just to get a passport? Is that why you left without even saying goodbye to me?” Nostrils flaring with anger, Roberto tightened his grip on my shoulders.
 

I glowered at him. “Why else did you say you loved me? And wanted to marry me? You’d only known me for two days.”

“If that’s true, why did you ask me in the first place?”

Looking up into his burning eyes, I said, “It’s just that—I thought you had an unbelievable talent, a talent that would have been wasted at Margarita Island. And I wanted to give you a break in life.”

 
Roberto dropped his gaze and whispered, “Jessica…”

I continued, “But then, I went to see you at the island to tell you that the captain agreed to marry us. And I saw you, having coffee with a woman. A very, very attractive woman. You embraced her, you put your arm—”

Words were stuck in my throat. A sharp pain pierced my heart when I remembered seeing them together, sharing an obvious familiarity and warmth.
 

Roberto shook me by the shoulders. “What are you talking about? Surely you don’t mean Yoselin? She’s my cousin, it’s the closest I have to family on the island. I’m her kids’ godfather. When we were having coffee, I was telling her about us and she was happy for me. She hugged me to say goodbye.”

“So she’s not—”
 

Roberto shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. I felt my cheeks burn.
 

“Jess, you should have talked to me that day. I had a big surprise for you.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “What do you mean, surprise? That you made love to me, wanted to marry me—only to get into America? That wouldn’t have been a surprise to me.”

“No, that’s not what it was. I had received a letter that morning.”

I let out a deep sigh. What could he possibly say to redeem himself? Whatever it was, I could never forgive him for deceiving me like that.
 

With a sparkle in his eyes, Roberto started speaking rapidly, almost stumbling over his words. “At the time, I’d already forgotten about it, but late last year I’d applied for the US green card lottery. And on that day I received a letter in the mail. I had won the lottery.”

My mouth fell open. A green card? To the US? Would that mean that—
 

“And that’s not all. When I received the letter, I emailed the School of Visual Arts in New York. I’d applied for a job there before, but they rejected me because I didn’t have a visa. So I wrote to them again about the green card, and they asked me to come in for an interview.”

My mind was spinning, and for once, I was lost for words.

Roberto took my hands in his. “I was so excited about the green card, I wanted to tell you myself. But they didn’t let me on the ship, and you never answered any of my calls. So I thought you’d changed your mind and you didn’t want me any more.”

I dropped my head in shame. “I’m sorry.”

He ran his thumbs along my knuckles. “Don’t be. I went to New York and got a teaching job at SVA. My boss introduced me to the owner of this gallery and that’s how my work got into this exhibition. And all this time, I tried looking for you. I must have called hundreds of Jessica Millers in Indiana. But then I remembered your Hollywood sister. I managed to contact her, and she arranged for you to get an invitation for this exhibition.”

I wasn’t really listening to what he was saying any more; it was too much for my brain to take in. There was only one thing I wanted to know from him.
 

“So—so… our love,
your
love was real?”

He pressed a tender kiss on my forehead. “More real than anything in life.”
 

“Roberto!” I flew into his arms and leaned my head against his chest to find his heart beating as wildly as mine. He loved me! He truly loved me! I had been such a fool for doubting him.
 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I love you so much. I hope you can forgive me.”

“I think I can do better than that.” He released my hands and reached into his pocket. Dropping on one knee, he opened a small black box. It contained a simple, but elegant diamond inlaid ring.
 

“Jessica, will you marry me?”

I felt a warmth filling every inch of my chest until I thought I would burst. This beautiful man who I loved with all my heart, loved me back, and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me.
 

“Yes, I will.”

Roberto took me in his arms and kissed me passionately while loud cheers and applause broke out around us.
 

It seemed I had been right all along: going on the cruise had been my lucky break to escape from my mundane life. But now I realized that it wasn’t the cruise, clothes, or money that would ever make me happy and fulfilled. It was finding Roberto, finding what seemed the most elusive in life: true love.
 

Flashing a seductive smile, I rested my finger on his chest. “I hope you didn’t forget about the promise you made.”
 

Roberto slid his arms around my waist. “Every night, baby, for the rest of our lives.”

Preview of
Vengeful Love
, the story of Jessica’s sister,
 

Hollywood actress Kate Miller

Ryan McFarlane was by far the most infuriating Hollywood star I had ever worked with. But unfortunately, he was also by far the most good-looking. His handsome face, marked by a square jaw, straight nose, and bright cobalt-blue eyes, coupled with his smooth, bronzed muscular body, had the power to make most women swoon at his feet. Especially here, on this tropical beach in Fiji, the set of our latest movie,
Love At Last
.
 

I was probably the only woman who was not least interested in Ryan’s good looks. Not after he’d snubbed me without any reason when I first arrived at the set. And definitely not after he’d made me look like a fool in front of the crew when he decided to change his lines and left me speechless.
 

So here I was, in the middle of filming a scene on the beach where Ryan and I, as the main characters of the movie, were having an argument. When we reached the end of the scene, Ryan took a step towards me and leaned down, ready to give me what the script described as a “smoldering kiss”.
 

“Ryan, kiss me! Ryan!” A pretty long-haired girl, fourteen or fifteen, in a low-cut singlet and shorts that left little to the imagination, was blowing kisses from behind the beach barricade, egged on by her gang of friends. The commotion caused Ryan to stop his line mid-sentence. He looked away, dazed, with his mouth still half open.

“For Chrissakes, Ryan, concentrate!” I shouted, throwing my hat on the sand. I was so sick of working with him. He might have reached celebrity status with his part in the blockbuster
Remorse
, but that didn’t excuse him of slacking off.

Ryan glared at me, sneering, “Hey, you’re not exactly inspiring. You’re supposed to show that you’re hurt, but still in love. All you do is bat your eyelashes once in a while. Is that what you call acting?”

I was about to give him a piece of my mind when the director intervened.

“Cut, cut, cut!” Becky came running towards us, her cheeks flushed with anger. “There goes yet another scene. Can you two please stop arguing? You’re just like a bunch of little kids. I don’t care if you hate each other, but leave that behind when we’re filming. We’re already behind schedule as it is. You’re actors, for crying out loud. This is your job. Pretend.”

I stamped my foot on the compact sand. How could Becky put any of the blame on me, when it was Ryan who had slipped up? From the day we started shooting the movie, it seemed he had made it his goal to make my life as difficult as possible. It had resulted in scene retake after retake, not to mention explosive arguments between us.

Turning my back to Ryan, I put my hands on my hips. “For your information, he’s the one who got distracted by his raving teenage fans, not me. It’s just pathetic; he can’t even concentrate on a few little lines.”

Becky walked towards me. “Calm down, Kate. Think of the big picture. Once
Love At Last
is finished it’s going to be spectacular, a box office record breaker, I just know it. And think what it will do to your career.”

“If it’s up to me, I wouldn’t do any more scenes with that idiot. I’d rather—”

Ryan’s chilly voice cut in behind me. “Who are you calling an idiot? Sounds to me like a case of the pot calling the kettle black.”

“I’m not the one who gets off by screaming underage fans.”
 

Becky squeezed my hand. “Come on now. You’ve only got a few more days to go, then you’ll never have to work with him again.”

“Oh, let her whine. That’s what she does every day. She thinks that throwing those little tantrums makes her look more of an actress. How else would you know she’s one?”
 

Ryan’s mocking voice caused me to spin around to face him, my eyes blazing. “You think you’re such a big shot with those little girls at your feet. I hate to tell you, pal, but the only thing you have going for you is your pretty face.”

To my surprise, Ryan broke out in a wide smile. “A compliment from Kate. I like it. Aren’t you lucky that you get to kiss my pretty face?”

I felt my body tense, and my hands clenched into fists at my sides. I desperately searched my brain for a witty retort, but however much I tried, I couldn’t think of anything apt to say. So I turned on my heel and stormed off the set, chased by Ryan’s deep-rumbled laughter and applause from his giggling teenage fans.
 

Flushed and dizzy from being humiliated, I opened the door to the make-up trailer and stepped in. Thankfully, it was empty as most of the crew were still at the set. The cooled air felt wonderfully soothing on my hot eyes and cheeks.

I strode over to the fridge and poured myself a tall ice lemon tea, which I sipped while sauntering over to the padded leather sofa. Sinking down into it, I closed my eyes and tipped back my head.

That jerk Ryan sure knew how to push my buttons. For all I tried, I couldn’t figure out why he had been acting so hostile towards me. What the hell had I done to make him treat me this way? Perhaps it was because I hadn’t, like most women, swooned and fallen to his feet at first sight. Sure, he was good-looking, but I wasn’t the needy and desperate fledgling actress he assumed I’d be.
 

Usually, when I started a movie shoot, I had my co-stars wrapped around my little finger in no time. It was the story of my life; men were rarely able to resist my charms. They were so easy—and I was more than satisfied to jump from fling to fling, enjoying them for their thrill and excitement. No man had ever captivated me enough to seriously consider the boredom of a long-term relationship.
 

Once, I’d almost fallen for a co-star who had seemed to be different from the usual good-looking knuckleheads with their one-track minds. He even enticed me with a relationship beyond the movie set. But a couple of weeks after we finished the movie, I spotted a picture of him in a tabloid, lip-locked with his latest conquest at a celeb party. It confirmed my belief that men could not be trusted; they were only after one thing. And from that moment, I vowed never to make that mistake again.
 

I had actually been looking forward to meeting Ryan McFarlane—he seemed like the perfect material for a fling. But when I arrived at the Fiji set of
Love At Last
, I hadn’t expected his icy reception, in spite of my usual charm. By the disdainful way he looked at me, I was almost considering having the nose job done I’d secretly been dreaming of.

A loud click broke the silence in the trailer, and the door swung open.

“Is Becky in here?” The head of a young bearded man appeared around the door. I shook my head, and the beard quickly disappeared. The hot summer air swiftly found its way in, and blew its warm breath around the confines of the trailer.
 

Damn, the pinhead left the door open. I walked over and was about to close it when I heard someone say my name outside. I stood right behind the door, my fingertips curled around its edge to ensure it stayed open a crack.
 

“… wait for Kate to come around to do another take. It’s probably going to take an extra day. As it is, the schedule is screwed. I wouldn’t be surprised if we’ll be here till Christmas.”