Touch of Fate. A.C. Arthur
thought of her and said to her really affected her. “I don’t think that makes you scatterbrained. If more people took the time to figure out what they wanted to do with their lives, the dropout rate in college wouldn’t be so high. Companies wouldn’t have an increased turnaround in staffing. Careers are big decisions and not everyone is born knowing what it is they want to do.” “Were you?”
He shook his head. “Actually, I studied engineering in college, thinking I’d build bridges or something like that. Who knew I’d get into sales and renovations. But, like you with writing, there’s a satisfaction in what I do that I don’t think I’d get from doing anything else.”
“And your parents were fine with that?” she asked, still with doubt.
“I think parents just want what’s best for their kids throughout their entire life. The problem is, what’s best is not always what the parent sees. But it’s okay, Deena, you don’t have to walk anybody’s path but your own. I’m sure your family will come around when they see how happy you are with your writing career.”
“I hope so,” she said but Max could tell she wasn’t convinced.
That was unfortunate. One thing he knew for sure was that he didn’t like this melancholy and doubting Deena. He liked her smiling and talking. So he’d just have to keep her mind on things beside her family and their thoughts about her career.
Right after lunch, after Dalila’s second directive to do so, Max and Deena headed to Shelter Cove. Max drove the car he’d rented upon his arrival while Deena plotted their course using the map she’d gotten from her travel agent. What they both noticed first about their drive was that it was a little difficult spotting signage to help guide their way. According to town regulations, signage was limited in order to promote the island’s natural beauty.
“We’re lost,” Deena said after they’d passed the same spot on US 278 three times.
“I am not lost. I have a GPS right here,” Max said, tapping the dashboard. “And you have a map right there.”
“And we’re lost,” she reiterated. Why men could never admit this was beyond her.
“Shelter Cove is just around this bend.”
“You mean the bend we’ve been around three times already?”
He shot her an annoying glance and she smiled sweetly. “Why don’t we stop at that gas station and ask directions?”
“Because I’m not lost,” he said, stubbornly driving past said gas station.
A half hour passed and Deena had let her map slip to the floor. She knew they were lost, it was just about waiting until Max would admit it. So instead she turned on the radio, flipping past several stations. An oldie but goodie was on a station she passed and she hurriedly flipped it back. Luther Vandross’s “A House Is Not a Home” played and Deena sang along.
For a while Max listened to her slightly off-key voice. This song had been an all-time favorite for him but he didn’t say that. In fact, he didn’t say a word, just let her sing until the song was finished.
“I take it you like that song.”
“What? Are you kidding? Who doesn’t like Luther and his many love ballads? Many of his songs have inspired some pretty hot love scenes in my stories.”
“Really? You need Luther to inspire you to write love scenes? What about personal experience?”
“I have that, too. But nothing compares to Luther.”
Was she always so open? Each time he asked her a question, she answered him. Never once did she hesitate. Max was used to women being calculating, manipulative, their every response practiced and designed to lead to what they ultimately wanted. He didn’t get that impression from Deena. She just said whatever was on her mind. He wondered if that was a good or bad thing.
“Okay, you win,” he said finally.
“I win what?”
“We’re lost.”
Deena laughed. “No, you’re lost. I’ve just been waiting for you to realize it.”
He couldn’t be angry; her laughter was contagious. The mood was light. Being with her, pleasant. He decided to go with it.
Living in New York and Las Vegas, both of them were fairly used to shopping at high-end stores. When they’d finally reached Shelter Cove they were both in awe of the specialty shops like De Gullah Creations and Blue Parrot. Deena happily picked up souvenirs for both her sisters and her mother.
“Not getting your father anything?” he asked as they stepped up to the counter to pay.
“He wouldn’t be interested in anything here,” she answered quickly. “My father is very stern and very shrewd. He frowns upon what he calls frivolous spending.”
Max nodded, pulling his wallet out of his pocket on instinct as the clerk gave Deena a total. “So he’s tight?”
“No, I wouldn’t say that. I guess he just wants to hold on to what he has.”
“A closed fist never receives anything,” Max said, extending his arm to give the clerk his credit card. “My mother used to tell me that when I was young.”
“Oh. No, you don’t have to do that,” she said, pushing Max’s hand away from the clerk. “I have money.” She was digging through her purse for her wallet.
“It’s okay. I want to pay for it.”
“But you don’t have to. I can pay for my own things.”
The clerk looked from one of them to the other, huffing impatiently.
“Deena,” Max said, putting a hand on her arm. “It’s okay. I’ll pay for the items.” He sensed she was about to say something else so he continued, “You can buy me a soda and snack when we leave. I’m still hungry.”
Reluctantly she put her wallet away, frowning up at him. “I’ll buy you a snack and whatever else I decide to purchase, Mr. Donovan.”
He opened his mouth to speak but she was the one to stop him this time. “I know. Max.”
With another of her sugary smiles she took her bag and walked out of the store.
“Independent woman, huh?” the clerk asked.
“I guess so,” was Max’s reply. “Independent and sexy as hell.”
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