Impulse (Isola dei Sogni)
Just Ink Press, LLC
A Just Ink Press novel
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or were used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Just Ink Press, LLC
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Impulse
Copyright
2013 by Raven McAllan
Edited by Leona Bushman
Senior Editor: N.L. Gervasio
Photo Copyright conrado
Cover design and interior images by N.L. Gervasio
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First electronic publication: May 2013
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What on earth am I doing here?
Mia McKenzie stared around the somewhat over-the-top bungalow. It was better than looking at the silver–haired man standing by the door and letting him see how scared she was. She knew fine well why she was on an island in the Indian Ocean instead of at home with a good book.
Meryl had asked her to come, and she couldn't think of a way to say no without hurting Meryl's feelings. Her little sister meant the world to her. Not that she was so little anymore; she towered over Mia by a good four inches. What Mia couldn't understand was why Meryl, after stating emphatically the holiday and all its connotations wasn't for her, had changed her mind and come along.
Isola Dei Sogni. Island of Dreams, for goodness sake. After all, why should Meryl need to come to an island to fulfill her dreams? I know she's been hurt, but still. Bloody men. I'm well past all this stuff, and men. But Meryl? Her life should be full of . . . . Well, anyway, it's our holiday, and she chose it. So shut up, Mia. And put up.
That wasn't difficult, Mia mused and accepted a glass of champagne from the tall silver-haired man dressed in a dark grey suit. Why on earth did they make the poor guy dress up like a city gent in thirty degrees heat? It seemed silly to her. Everyone else they'd seen so far wore casual linen trousers and a collarless shirt. Smart, but casual. She thanked him, and he bowed. Poor man, oh so formal.
She wandered over to the open patio doors and looked out over the immaculate garden. The sun shone through the leaves of the palm trees and created dancing rays on the unblemished lawn. The scene was chocolate box perfect, and Mia was annoyed with herself for not appreciating it more. But for heaven's sake, an island of dreams. What dreams had she got anyway, apart from wanting to be four inches taller and two stones lighter? As sure as the sun set every day, there was no way that was likely to happen. Not without starvation, liposuction, colonic irrigation and the rack. Mia wasn't up for any of them. She'd long come to terms with the fact she was who and what she was. After many years of angst, Mia was happy in her skin.
To be twenty years younger? No, no way. Definitely not. No way do I want to go back to that age and all the crap that went on again
.
I'll stick in the here and now. Well, a good bout of hot and sweaty sex wouldn't go amiss, but that's as likely as the age loss. So, nope. I'll stay as I am.
The man coughed to get her attention. "Will we see you in the lounge in twenty minutes, miss?"
"What?" Mia blushed. She'd forgotten there was anyone else in the room. It was a habit of hers and one Meryl often moaned about. Mia could drift off into her own world without any problems, and ignore anyone or anything around her.
"Oh, er, yes, thank you. Um, hold on." She grabbed her purse.
The man shook his head. "All taken care of. Enjoy your stay. Don't forget, if you want anything, press the bell."
Mia went red.
Duh. He'll think I'm a right innocent abroad.
"I don't, you know. I think you're a lady." He touched an ornate bell in the wall that he'd pointed out to her earlier, and with a half bow, turned and left the room. The door closed with a soft whoosh.
Oh lord
. Mia covered her hot face with sweaty hands. Why on earth had she blurted her thoughts out loud? She couldn't believe she'd said that about herself to him. Surely she hadn't? But then how had he answered? The whole thing was screwy.
Mia sat on the overstuffed chair with a thump. The cushion billowed up around her and made her giggle. She'd be hard-pressed to get out of it without a hydraulic lift
. I really must start exercising. Ditch the spare tire and get fit.
It was a pity the one way people reckoned gave you a good work out, and made you satisfied, wasn't on her agenda.
Damn it, I must stop feeling sorry for myself
. She was older—more than a few years older—than the rest of the party, and if Mia was honest, she felt a bit intimidated by most of them. Maybe that was why she was being so introspective all of a sudden? Whatever, she needed to snap out of it.