Maybe on any other day, in any other place, it wouldnt have happened. Michael had never been one given to fancy or fantasy, but in the summer heat and fragrant sea breezes of St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands, he found himself relaxed and almost wistful, so much so that he dreaded being in an airport getting ready to leave. Maybe it was the sea of smiling, brown faces he saw everywhere he laid eyes, the ones that made him feel more welcome than he had ever felt, anywhere. Maybe it was the wild contrast between his orderly, efficient, desensitized Birmingham and this chaotic, laid-back, and utterly charming island paradise that had changed him somehow. The windy nights he spent on the beach watching a black sky with more stars than he had ever seen made him contemplative and ready to believe. In what, he didnt know. He had been on assignment in many different places, but none had captivated him like this island.

Whatever the reason, when he saw the chocolate, Caribbean queen stepping through the double doors before him, fantasy took flight and held him thoroughly spellbound.

He had never seen a walking chocolate kiss before. She was dark and, he thought, probably just as sweet. She wore a long skirt wrapped at her slim waist decorated with brilliant reds and yellows and greens and browns. As she walked a flash of long, dark leg peeked out, a small beaded chain around her delicate ankle. She wore a short matching top that tied behind a long beautiful neck. It had a scoop that showed the fullness of her breasts. He gazed from the small ankles up the well-muscled legs to the slim waist and strong shoulders. Then his gaze found her face. Michael had never seen anything like it. She had wide, black eyes, a strong nose, and a bottom lip that looked nothing short of delicious. Her features were all set aptly in a perfectly heart-shaped face accentuated by the long, neat twists cast over her shoulder begging for his fingers to tangle in them. She held up a small wrist to check her watch. Her smooth, cocoa colored brow creased as she did.

Michaels gaze snapped to a short man wearing a multicolored, knit cap and a scraggly beard. Though he couldnt hear what the man said, Michael thought by the way the man tilted his head it must have been something crude. Michael had to work to tamp down the powerful urge to go over there and pummel that man. However, the woman just smiled politely and shook her head in a diplomatic No. He smiled to himself thinking, classy. The twists bounced on her back as she moved out of sight. What a man would do for a woman like that. She surely would never have to wonder where her man was come nightfall. Without a doubt he would be home. Only a fool wouldnt be. After all, Michael didnt even know her and she had his full attention.

A woman like that, he mused. As a journalist, Michael had always had an uncanny ability to read people, an ability that made him damn good at what he did. When he was a kid, his hobby was sitting in the park and watching people. He would watch them and attempt to figure out what their lives were like just from what he observed. The way a man held his cigarette. The way a woman touched her hair. There were so many telltale signs about the lives of people that most rarely noticed. Michael had always noticed. Sometimes, hed watch them talk to each other and would sometimes know if they were lying.  Every time he did an interview, while mostly relying on his instincts for questions, he depended on this ability to tell him if he was following the best line of questioning. It had been a long time since hed played this divining game. Nevertheless, seeing this mahogany beauty, he felt he already knew her.

The fluid swing of her hips showed the inborn ease he had observed in all the native islanders. She walked with her head high on graceful shoulders, and her eyes held a kind of daring that could only be attributed to pure self-assurance. But, even given her looks, she didnt appear to be arrogant. Michael hated conceit and could spot it in anyone. She didnt have it. Her long, black twists and island dress seemed an elegant display of her heritage. But what really captivated him was her smile; a mesmerizing smile that held intrigue and mystery.

Descending further into fantasy, he pictured her in a stunning strapless, black velvet dress at the Winter Banquet or maybe something beaded and white. Yes, with that warmed cinnamon skin, he could envision her in white. He could see every eye in the room transfixed on her. She would put her delicate arm in his as he introduced her to his world.

Now boarding first class passengers at Gate 23C, Flight 207 to Birmingham, a voice announced over the PA system, startling Michael out of his fantasy. He picked up his bags and headed toward the plane, though he still craned his neck to see the beauty. He noted that she wore a sleek black laptop case on her shoulder and frowned down at a PDA shed taken out of her handbag. Okay, so maybe he would need to revise his opinion of the island stunner just a little.

When he settled down into his seat, he took out yesterdays issue of the Harrison Tribune. There on the lower half of the front page, was his article. Hed finished it only two days before and emailed it home. It hadnt taken any time for an extract of the story to make it to their website and the complete feature to be printed in the weekly paper. The story a scholarship fund for young, talented artists of the Caribbean. The Art Sentries Foundation in its seventeen years had provided full tuition for more than eighty artists at highly competitive colleges around the world. Michael learned of the foundation after casually dating a scholarship recipient who had graduated from RISD and become an influential Southern designer.

After, a long tour in southern Africa, Michael had wanted a lightweight community piece, something relaxing and positive to lift downtrodden spirits. However, hed found out quickly that Hatsheput Industries, an art empire born in St. Thomas which usually contributed about seventy-five percent of the funding for the project, was pulling out. It galled him that they rescinded the funding without so much as an explanation or apology to the participants in the foundation. The lack of Hatsheputs backing would probably cause the whole program to be dismantled. Michaels indignation turned to fury when trying to get Hatsheputs side of the story, no one on the executive board would talk to him.

The story went from something despicable to something downright savage and unconscionable when finally, someone claiming to be a Hatsheput public relations representative did meet with Michael one evening. The stranger only wanted to meet in secret. He refused to give his name or to be recorded even in disguise. Michael had wondered at the high level of what he perceived to be paranoia.  But as the informant recounted everything he knew about the fund, Michaels heart started to beat hard and fast. The man didnt care about a loss of funding; he was scared for his life. Soon, so was Michael.

These kids had been sold a dream. Fifty out of sixty had arrest records from before they received scholarships. Half of those had arrest records after placement, all drug related. Four of them had ended up dead. These young men had been sold a dream only to have lived a nightmare.

The informant led Michael to another contact, someone who worked closely with the fund, Marshall Ellis. Finally, Ellis had given him the complete story. And it answered Michaels initial question. Hatsheput, was trying to get out of the program ahead of a full FBI investigation.

Michaels stomach rolled and his heart ached when he thought of what had happened to kids who had thought to be rescued from difficult lives only to be thrust into the belly of the beast.  Trying to shake off the horror, he tossed the paper into the seat next to his and stood to get a book out of the overhead compartment. He had not let them get away with it.

***

Nya Seymour noticed him. How could she not? Even as far back as she was sitting this mans presence was compelling. God, he was gorgeous. She watched as he pulled a book from his bag. Seeing him sitting at the gate had piqued her interest, but when he stood, and his starched white button down stretched across a broad chest and his khakis relaxed against well-muscled thighs well He was impossible to ignore. Now he was standing there in all his fineness reaching for something in the overhead compartment. The movement of a newspaper sliding from the seat next to his momentarily diverted her attention. She could barely make out the name, but when she did, her eyes narrowed. Angry, Nya turned her gaze away abandoning the wayward thoughts. There were more important things with which to contend. Besides, who knew what he thought when he read that trash?

Her PDA started to chime. She hadnt turned it off yet as travelers were still boarding. But she wished that she had. It was her father and she could feel herself pull a face. The man liked nothing more than making Nya feel inadequate when he was in a sour mood. She grimaced when her cell started ringing before takeoff. There he was, as if on cue.

Nya, you insist on defying me. You insist on this belief that you know better than your old father.

Daddy, Im not insisting on anything but common sense. We cant let this charge go unanswered. We will only look guilty.

We will look guilty regardless. There is nothing you can say that will put all hearts and minds at ease. There is no way to undo this damage through words. It must be undone by action.

With all due respect, sir.

All due, you say, girl?

Nya covered her eyes with a hand. She took a long moment before continuing. Daddy, please, in this day and age, syndicated communication is key. We need to get our story out there. We need to show that we are not monsters, and address charges of negligence at best, organized criminality at worst.

You do love your words, girl.

This was not a compliment.

She decided to change her strategy, search for his faith in her. Father, when have I openly defied you?

All the time.

When have I taken any action of defiance? Please tell me one time.

He didnt answer, Nya knew, because there had never been a time when she went against him. She had always voiced her opinion, but in the end, his word had always been law.

Trust in what I am saying. Trust in what I am doing, she implored.

Girl, I tell you this is bad. If it must be addressed and with this tiny paper, then, I will return and I will do so as president of Hatsheput.

Nyas jaw dropped. He had offered a compromise. Nyron Seymour never compromised. Never. Perhaps, had he said this before shed left their family home or even before shed gotten on the plane, she would have relented and taken time to think about the offer. After all, as the head of the enterprise, Nyrons words were what the people wanted.

She couldnt do it. Stubborn determination ruled her sometimes. Seeing this as an opportunity to prove herself, she just couldnt let it go.

Thankfully, the flight attendant came over the PA and announced the need to power down electronic devices. Daddy, Ive got to go, she said and hung up the phone.

 This required that she act fast, Nyron would be hot on her heels. Unfortunately, her father had the advantage as she faced the flight back to Birmingham.

***

Michael glanced around feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Shaking his head, he sat down trying to ease into his book. He had an interview the following week with the author. In a matter of minutes, he put it down unable to concentrate. He was tired. He wanted to relax, kick back until the plane landed. At the same time, he felt electricity coursing through his veins. An odd mood, to say the least. His thoughts drifted back to the beauty in the airport and back into fantasy.

If only, for once, his work hadnt taken all his time and energy. He would have loved to walk the beach with her on one of those cool, breezy nights when the moon was round and honey colored hanging on the edge of the ocean. He imagined them talking, she in a deep, sexy, island patois. Maybe, she would lower her head on his chest as they walked slowly in the sand. Michael felt his heartbeat quicken.

So, howre you liking my island? shed ask him looking up at him with an engaging smile.

I love your island, hed say and kiss her forehead. And right now, Id love to kiss you.

Dont think Ill let you, shed say laughing and turn her head away. But hed capture her chin in his fingers and bring her face toward his.

Michael could feel the lips, pliant beneath his own. Soft, yielding to him. He was drowning in them. Hands with minds of their own traced a lazy, seductive path down her velvety, brown back. Michael, she moaned softly as her arms slid up around his neck. Her willing response made him pull her cloer. Michael laced his fingers through her twists loving the smooth ropey feel of them. She leaned her body into his, molding to his hard chest. He felt ready to erupt as every sense told him she was his.

The pretty flight attendant seemed unnerved as she nudged him awake saying, Mr. Harrison, weve landed.