Following a sudden and confusing breakup with Michael, her live-in boyfriend, Claire Harper and her friend, Sheila, travel to Costa Rica on a holiday planned for the couple. After meeting expat hotel worker Dominic, Claire enjoys her holiday more than expected, despite the constant feeling she is being watched, and growing concerns over a series of murders in her hometown.

Claire’s hopes of forgetting her heartbreak are dashed when Michael learns she is on their intended vacation and demands she return the costs for his share of the holiday.

As Claire discovers the surprisingly spicy hot pleasures of the Caribbean in a fast-paced weeklong romance, she ignores the subtle tells indicating all is not as she imagines, both at home and abroad.

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Release Date: Dec 10, 2024
Genre: Contemporary Romance

~ A Red Satin Romance ~

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Excerpt

Chapter One

To those who have stood at a crossroads in their life, it is readily apparent, however seemingly insignificant at the time, that most people are just one decision away from misery or fulfilment. For those who come to realise the potentially destructive nature of a mistake, it offers no comfort to hear that any decision is better than none. It was such philosophical musings that occupied Phoenix as she perched on the backrest of the tired wooden bench, staring into space. She had not sat like this for a decade. It made her forget her past experiences, the years of self-reflection and development, and the hard-won confidence born of maturity. It all meant nothing. Deep down, she knew it was an illusion, that if she allowed this place to overwhelm her, everything could go wrong. But there was always a chance.

She stared across the street at the door of a place she had once known so well. The last visit was a disaster. She had gone in with a friend but left abruptly, gagging at the stench that permeated the building. She swore, in that moment, she would never return, but here she was. And then there was the other problem.

A decision must be made, and soon. If she stayed too long, she’d be noticed. Her presence in the area would be reported before she was ready. She could deny the almost irresistible temptation to be stupid or choose the less likely, less risky option and stay away.

Her mind flashed back to their last meeting a few months after she left. He had glared at her from across the bar, drawn and tired, but mostly angry. Actually, even furious was not the word she would have used; it did not begin to describe what she was seeing. His tight jawline and the evil squint in his eyes burned through her leaving her cold. The frosty shudder which invaded her being had stayed with her until long after she returned home that evening.

To go in would invite trouble, awkwardness, and a whole lot of history she could do without. On the other hand, it had been so long; how could anything bad come of exploring her old haunts? She’d been everywhere else in town without any problems, and even run into some old friends, during which time she realised they didn’t hold the past against her. It was a pleasant evening.

Despite the evening’s success, Phoenix was left with an empty loneliness and a strong desire to rekindle old friendships. Now, staring at the old blue sign that adorned the front of the pub, she promised herself never to make that mistake again. Some of those people she had abandoned with hardly a word might at this very moment be in the building. Have they changed as little as those stone walls? Will they hold a grudge after all this time? Will they judge my actions and mock me, as the small front car park seems to be doing? Ridiculous.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her unruly hair. As she leaned forward, she slipped her tongue across her upper lip and rubbed her hands on her jeans. Three in the afternoon was not a time of day she usually frequented public houses.

A tall man exited the building across the street and lit a cigarette. She tried not to stare as she established whether she knew him. Even at that distance, she could tell she didn’t. So, some things do change then.

The real problem was her inability to say no when faced with ill-conceived notions. She was sucked into problems like a water-logged leaf drawn to a whirlpool. Not just drawn, she enjoyed playing in the raging torrent—to personally challenge it and, in the end, try not to drown. There was no doubt in her mind that she possessed an element of self-destructiveness. Why would she consider the risk of meeting an ex who was, in all likelihood, still angry?

The queue of cars built up as vehicles stopped at the crossing up the street. The pause in traffic movement allowed her attention to wander again.

Clouds raced across the sky, driven by the unyielding wind which had dogged her all the way to town. They had grown darker as she sat uncomfortably on the seat. The sky threatened rain very soon, yet another piece of the “decision puzzle.” It occurred to her that she might not make it home before the downpour. The only way she could guarantee she wouldn’t get herself into trouble was to go home. Frequenting another establishment would only delay the inevitable.

For the fourth time since sitting, she tucked her dyed blond curls behind her ear and adjusted her sunglasses. Her eyes drifted back to the door across the street. With each glimpse, the enticement strengthened, her curiosity winning the battle with common sense. The usual conversation these days, that common sense is not so common.

She straightened her legs and hung them off the edge of the seat. She shifted herself back a little to prevent slipping off and then settled herself with her hands clasped in front of her. Her gaze fixed on the car park just to her left. No one had come or gone in a few minutes, and there were surprisingly few cars. Parking charges, I’ll bet.

The door of the pub opened again, and the same guy stepped out with his cigarette already hanging from his mouth. He glanced around as he lit it. She imagined he was nervous. He turned suddenly and leaned in through the doorway. Whatever exchange he made didn’t last long before he leaned against the wall and resumed his smoke.

An aggregate lorry blocked her view as it trundled noisily into town, closely followed by another. She frowned, somehow annoyed by the interruption in her people watching, one of her favourite pastimes.

A movement caught her eye from the right. On her side of the road, a mobility scooter approached, exactly the same colour as the one she’d seen every day lately. That machine had nearly run her over as the guy entered the pub. He had offered no apologies, manners, or any kind of consideration afterwards or during the incidents. She remembered a long beard and the look of a man who hadn’t seen a shower in a very long time. On this occasion, a woman occupied the seat. She was as unkempt as the man had been, but somehow in a worse condition. Phoenix raised an eyebrow and quickly looked away, pleased she was clear of the street. I wonder if they’d be in better condition if they bothered to walk?

She kept a straight face as the scooter passed by, and the lady offered a friendly smile for no other reason than politeness. It was the first time Phoenix had experienced someone on a mobility scooter who bothered to acknowledge anyone else.

Phoenix mentally shook herself, pushed her shoulders back, and took a deep breath. This can’t go on forever. I must make a decision. What’s the worst that can happen? She clenched her fingers into fists and dug her long, polished nails into her palms. The pain steadied her mind, allowing her to make the decision almost immediately.

A spot of rain hit her cheek, cold and startling. Of all the places it could have landed, it had to be there? Another dropped into her eye, making her blink in surprise, and not a little annoyance. She needed to act before the rain soaked her. Arriving anywhere in the town looking like a drowned rat was not an option. She slowly collected her bag, slid from the seat, and placed her heeled boot carefully onto the uneven slabs that paved the bus stop. She straightened her black jeans and flicked her wind-blown hair back over her shoulder.

Giving herself one last glance in the semi-reflective plastic of the shelter, she stepped away from her perch and walked purposefully towards the traffic crossing. Perhaps it was that easy after all?

The spitting rain became a torrent as the traffic lights turned red. She kept her steps measured, steady, slow, and purposeful. Her stubbornness wouldn’t allow her to hurry, even if that meant getting soaked.

Her mind flicked back through the years. This place flooded following a heavy deluge, much like her old local pub, which had stood sad and alone on the crossroads, its tired white paint failing in a fight against the elements. She remembered its inviting warmth after her long, drenching walk from home. The last time she was in that old place, guilt had drawn her there. The resulting trauma was a small price to pay for the reassurance that there were no lasting effects as a result of her rash departure. Although the repercussions had been visible, she left the place sure that time would rectify the echoes which still remained.

She ferreted through her bag to retrieve her phone, opened the cover, and glanced at the blank screen. She frowned and brought it to life, wondering what prompted her to look at it. She knew no one would contact her. Few people who knew she was in the area even had her number, and those who did were unlikely to text or call. Her eyes drifted left, towards the self-imposed forbidden territory. A heavy sigh escaped her lips.

The phone’s solid plastic dug into her hand. If she pretended to be on a call, it could provide a getaway plan should needs be. It wouldn’t be the first time. This time it had to work; otherwise, she might find herself in an untenable situation with no way to save face.

It’s a shame there’s no one I can ring and then call off without saying anything. Here goes, make sure the light shows when you call off, finger on the active button. Act like you’re meant to be here.

She plastered a smile on her face and purposely slowed her movements to a controlled, measured pace as she pushed her weight against the door, suddenly realising that it opened outwards. Something forced her eyes to the floor as the door opened wide enough to be observed.

“That’s it, no choice now,” she said to the non-existent person on the phone. This is easier than I thought it would be. What was I worried about? Just silliness, you have as much right to be here as anyone else.

The carpet, now roughly ginger, was brighter than the dirty brown it had once been. The general atmosphere was lighter and somehow cosier. Much more akin to what it had been when she’d frequented the establishment rather than her last visit. One deep breath confirmed a marked improvement in odour also.

“Phoenix,” shouted a voice she would never forget.

Her hope and dread of the last hour met and clashed like opposing tsunamis of equal power. An upward glance at the voice confirmed his shocked reaction, coupled with a smile which unexpectedly sent a tingle through her stomach.

“Yes, okay, will do, we’ll talk more later on,” she simpered into the phone, pressing the button on the side to add to the illusion of ending a call. In those few moments, the tension in her muscles, which she had not noticed, slackened. She surveyed the room and avoided eye contact with him.

Her feet carried her across the rust-coloured carpet towards the man who had greeted her despite her reluctance and the thought that it possibly wasn’t a good idea to engage in this scenario. She was already committed. Finally, with some effort, she made eye contact with him. There was a brightness in his eyes that showed a genuine pleasure to see her. That was not what she expected, given the events of their last interaction when she had made a point of not speaking and he’d returned the favour.

“Craig. Some things never change, I see. Not at work today then?” She softened her comment with a wide, playful smile and a slight raise of her right eyebrow. She turned her attention to the young lad behind the bar. “Half a lager please.”

The bartender gave her a shy smile and bent down behind the wooden oak-coloured bar to collect a glass. Phoenix kept her attention on him and took a large gulp of air.

“It’s good to see you, Phoenix. It has been a long time,” Craig said, smiling. “Halves, really? What happened? That’s not like you?”

She passed the required change over the bar and turned to Craig. “Time passes, things change. I don’t drink like I used to.”

Craig flashed a knowing smile, clearly unsure whether to believe her or not. He took a swing of his drink and turned to the bartender who was watching the exchange with unconcealed interest. “This is my ex; we were together years ago. I haven’t seen her for a long time. All in the past now.”

“It’s nice of you to say, but I can’t imagine you really think that. Still, we’re talking now, so that can’t be bad.”

“It is all in the past. You’re married now, and it’s been so long.” He took another swing from the pint and nodded to the bar guy who already had a pint glass in his hand. “We met in the old pub, you know, the one down the street? It’s a funny story.”

Phoenix felt her face warm. In the current context, it’s very embarrassing. “Now don’t start, he doesn’t want to hear that. It’s ancient history,” she commented, trying not to cough. She hid her face in the glass and closed her eyes in resignation as she sensed Craig launching into his yarn.

Her gaze drifted to the other side of the bar and the other room. Years ago, there were pool tables, in addition to one in the back room. They had since moved the latter, but she wasn’t tall enough to see over the bar and discover what had happened in the other room.

“…She even ironed my shirt while I had a shower. Can you believe that?” Craig was making the bar guy smile at his version of what happened between them back in the beginning.

As she listened, she realised that in all the years, he hadn’t changed much. His same slim figure, tanned complexion, large, rough hands, and rugged features framed by short dark hair remained the same. As he raised his hand to adjust his glasses further up his nose, she noticed he no longer wore the gold signet ring she’d sent back to him when they broke up. He’d never taken the thing off except when at work, and when she went away to work, she kept it on her necklace chain. It had been his mother’s, and even back then, it was worn through years of wear in all conditions. On impulse, she leaned across him and pulled his other hand over to her. There was no ring on that hand either.

He gave her a questioning look but said nothing.

“Your mother’s ring, you don’t wear it anymore?” she asked, still holding his hand.

He glanced at their hands, causing her to let go with a sudden realisation of what she was doing. “It’s too old, I’d break it. It’s in a safe place.”

Her attention shifted to the guy behind the bar, whose name she still hadn’t caught. He was clearly competent at his job and had certainly worked there for a while. Tall, dark, and slim, no doubt meaning his girlfriend was pretty. The assumption about his girlfriend was confirmed by the fact that he spent most of his spare time checking his phone, even while listening to Craig.

“I check your Facebook page every now and then. I see you’re living in Newcastle now?” Craig made the statement into a question with a slight tilt of his head.

“Yes, that’s right. Been up there for a while. I didn’t realise you were a Facebook stalker,” Phoenix jibed. I wonder how he managed that since I blocked him when he made the friend request the other year. She suppressed a frown and covered it with a smile that she hoped would convey that she was joking.

“I wasn’t stalking, just curious. I didn’t look that much. I just noticed your holiday photographs. I liked your wedding photo. You looked really pretty.”

She searched his expression for signs of a joke or sarcasm, but instinct told her he meant neither. “Thanks, but that’s in the past too.”

“Em, really?” He paused just long enough to realise that she wasn’t going to elaborate, “Well I’m still working with Stevenson. Or rather, I’m working with them again. I’ve moved around a bit over the years, but this job should be good for a few years.”

“Well, you always were a hard worker, even if you have a day off whenever the rain falls, any small drop would do it, if I remember correctly.” She nudged his leg with her knee, smiling at his aghast expression. Which reminds me, I must check on the holiday booking. I must make sure everything is ready.

“You know I’ve always worked. I don’t have days off anymore. I go to bed early every night as well.”

“I’m sure you do,” she retorted sarcastically, “You’re not getting any younger, and with all that beer, you need to make sure that you get up in the morning, I suppose.” Cattiness had not been her intention, but he got under her skin with his defensiveness. Some things never change.

“Exactly, it’s hard work. I don’t even come out during the week anymore.” He replied, seemingly oblivious to her bitchiness.

She cocked her head. “Really, my awareness of days of the week must be well off. I was sure that this is “during the week”, or perhaps it’s me that’s confused?” How can this guy irritate me like this? I’ve got to knock it off. It’s like he knows which buttons to press.

“You know what I mean. I know you called me a Facebook stalker, but I saw that you have advanced in your career, so I’m sure you understand.”

He thought I was serious about the stalking thing. Oh, that’s not good. How doesn’t he see I was joking? Great now he’s gonna latch onto that and never let it go. “I didn’t mean you were actually stalking. I was joking, silly.” A heat rose in her chest, spread to her shoulders, and without warning, her annoyance evaporated.

The subtle vibration and accompanying sound of her text message alert prevented her from adding anything that might have made the situation worse. She slid the phone from her pocket and glanced at the screen. A hard lump formed in her throat and she coughed. A message from Josh.

 

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