Boracay Vows (Carpe Diem Chronicles 1) Page 5

  “He was such a gentleman earlier. He stopped after the kiss. I could tell it was hard—pun fully intended—for him to do that.” Krista sniggered. “That’s why I feel confident about my decision. I think he’ll respect my feelings and go along with my choice of when I’m ready to take the next step,” she said with certainty. The two friends grinned at each other at that declaration.

  Suddenly remembering her suspicion about her friends’ scheme, Krista blurted, “Is Blake part of the plan?” She had forgotten to ask earlier when everyone was online.

  “What plan?” Maddie’s confusion seemed genuine. Furrows appeared between her brows.

  “You know. Boracay, Perlas, the form-fitting outfits, the makeover, the scheme to help me accomplish my Turning-Thirty Vow—that plan. Is Blake part of it?”

  The guilty flush on Maddie’s face said it all.

  “What the hell were all your objections about him, then?” Krista yelled in exasperation. Her friend’s name suited her perfectly. She was truly mad.

  “We all wanted the real you to come out, and we were right. Look at you now. You’re so sexy,” Maddie said defensively. “The other three didn’t know about Blake being there, but they hoped you’d meet someone within the week. I started having misgivings about including him in the scheme and playing Cupid, so I threw all those questions at you. But you blew all my doubts away. I want you to be sure of your decisions. I don’t want you to have regrets later.”

  When she put it like that, their whole angst-filled conversation made sense. Krista shook her head at her meddling friend. “You are insane. You know that, right?”

  “Maybe so, but you still love me anyway,” Maddie laughingly agreed. “Bonne chance, m’amie. Again, guard your heart. This is simply physical, okay? Be careful you don’t have your first heartbreak to go along with your first kiss and first lover. Don’t fall in love with Blake. Your mom won’t approve. Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you always. Je t’adore, mabiche.” She sent off a few flying kisses and signed off.

  Krista stayed in front of the computer for a long time. No. There will be no regrets. There can’t be. It will only be for one week, after all.

  Chapter Six

  Jeepney [jip-nee] n. – a public utility vehicle. The most popular mode of transportation in the Philippines.

  Blake knocked on the back door of Krista’s cottage at exactly five thirty. He knew Filipinos were notorious for their tardiness, but he had never observed her exhibiting that poor behavior in all the time she’d worked for his company.

  When she opened the door, he was again astonished at the dramatic difference that leaving her hair down and removing her glasses made to her appearance. She looked young, carefree, and tremendously alluring.

  “Hello, beautiful,” Blake greeted her warmly. Her response was a tepid smile. She wore an empire-style short-sleeved floral dress with the hem above her knees. On her feet were a pair of red sandals with jeweled butterflies. He took note of her fondness for red footwear.

  “I wish I had flowers to offer you, but I came empty-handed,” he said regretfully. He bent to kiss her on the cheek and followed her into the cottage. She appeared almost dainty when she wore flats. At the office she towered over her coworkers, especially when she wore high heels, which brought her to nearly six feet tall at times.

  “Why do you have to bring me flowers? Is this a date?” She raised her eyebrow in inquiry.

  She was challenging him, the saucy minx. He liked that. Most of the Filipino women he met pretended to be coy around him. “You tell me,” he retorted. “You’re the one who asked me to dinner this afternoon.” He enjoyed teasing this woman. Her reactions were entertaining and refreshingly honest.

  “I didn’t ask you out to dinner. I merely inquired whether we were going to be at the same place at the same time,” she said indignantly. “In any case, I already have enough flowers on my dress, so I’m good. Thank you very much.”

  He didn’t think she was all that grateful. Is she trying to keep me at arm’s length again?

  “It’s my bad then.” He put his hands up in mock surrender, keeping his tone light. “It’s just as well we’re not on a date, as I’m not dressed for it,” he gestured to his t-shirt, jeans, and flip flops, which were his weekend uniform, even in the city.

  “I like it. You don’t look like a CEO of a billion-dollar company.”

  “How is a CEO supposed to look like?”

  “Old, fat, and bald,” Krista sassily replied, grinning up at him.

  He met her gaze with a knowing smile, amused by, and at the same time understanding of her hot and cold attitude this evening. It was another testament to her innocence that she wasn’t an expert on the sexual games men and women play.

  “The cart should be waiting outside to take us around. Shall we go?” At her nod, he moved towards the front door and opened it.

  “Oh, this is nice!” she said when she saw the horse-driven modernized karitela—a four-seater, nipa-covered wagon—that sat outside. Her delight gratified him. Most of the guests were charmed by the tribute to the traditional vehicle. The locals were especially appreciative of the celebration of Filipino culture at Perlas.

  Blake assisted Krista onto the first row of seats behind the driver, then pulled himself up to sit beside her. “So, what do you think of the karitela?”

  “I think it’s great. I haven’t seen one used as a mode of transportation since I was a little girl.” She smiled sweetly. “We used to visit my grandparents, my lolo and lola in Quezon. Back then, they still had those carabao-driven karitons, and karitelas like this one, taking the old folks around town. Now they are only brought out for ceremonial purposes during fiestas and Santa Cruzan, the May festival. I’m glad the resort has use for them.”

  “I was skeptical at first about having horses in the island, but the management won me over by taking care of them well. There is land where they can run, including the beach.”

  Blake produced a map from the vehicle’s side pocket and pointed out the resort’s vast acreage as the cart ambled along the path. Perlas was the only resort that offered beach rides on the stately animals, adding tremendously to what made them distinguishable from all the other resorts in Boracay.

  On the map, the resort formed an irregularly shaped pentagon with three sides open to the water. The runway used by the private air-taxi marked the length of the property on one side. On another side—the one with the widest beachfront—the main building was located. That was where most of the guest activities were conducted.

  Bluffs separated the main resort beach from the semi-private beachfront area of the ten cottages. Maharlika Kubo, the owners’ cottage, was the biggest and the last one on the right; the headland beside it, which indicated the end of the property, was high and steep.

  It wasn’t a long ride around the resort, even though the property was expansive. The moment the karitela stopped in front of the restaurant, Blake dismounted and reached up to help Krista alight from the cart.

  Her sharp intake of breath at the touch of his hands on her waist encouraged him to take his time, deliberately brushing his body with hers the whole way down. Her arms reflexively wrapped around his neck to keep her balance during the descent. He was tempted to kiss her when her cheeks colored prettily; her eyes held a flare of desire before she determinedly fixed her gaze on his throat.

  It was hard to resist the lure of her full lips, but he did it in part as a show of respect for her modesty, and partly because he doubted his rein on his self-control. He wasn’t sure he could stop at mere kissing, once he started.

  ***

  Equal parts of relief and disappointment filled Krista when Blake released her with only a smile. She was sure he was going to kiss her again, but he moved back after she lowered her arms from around his neck.

  He took her hand in his as they went into the restaurant and were shown their table by a uniformed waiter.

  She was so confused. Her expertise at work and her abilit
y to make sense of vast amounts of data and manipulate it into something her team could use were things she took pride in. But navigating relationship waters was beyond her. Now she regretted never having had a boyfriend.

  Her heart-to-heart talk with Maddie influenced Krista to be more reserved around Blake. She still planned to sleep with him, but she needed to get to know him a whole lot more. It would not happen tonight; she was awfully tired.

  She wished she could have had a nap this afternoon, but her talk with the girls had taken over an hour. There was barely enough time to shower before she had to meet Blake again.

  At first, she thought he might be put off by her claim that tonight was not a date. His charming response coaxed her out of her reticence embarrassingly fast. How can I guard my heart against him when there’s so much there to like and admire?

  Blake could have taken credit for the karitela, but he acknowledged that it wasn’t his idea and admitted initial skepticism about it. His recognition of the mistake spoke well of his integrity.

  She knew from work that he earned the title of CEO through years of hard work and determination. It wasn’t just handed to him because he was related to the owners, as was often done in the Philippines.

  At lunch, she fibbed a little when she asked him how long he’d been in the country. She had researched him the moment she received access to the company’s intranet.

  His bio on the company website said he started as a junior marketing assistant and rose rapidly through the ranks. At twenty-eight years old he made vice-president in the head office, and when the former Philippine CEO retired, Blake was brought here to head the country office. From her study of the company’s historical performance for the past fifty years, his management in the last five had taken the Philippine office to record levels of profitability.

  His staff absolutely adored him, even though he was not demonstrative. To them he was beauty and brains personified. Their CEO was a fair boss, and she liked that he listened to his directors’ opinions and advice, but he was firm with his decisions when he thought he was right.

  In the office, Mr. Ryan was even-tempered. She’d never heard him raise his voice in anger. His quiet command was enough to silence arguments in the boardroom.

  He could be cutting and abrupt at times, especially when the presentations went overly long and became frivolous, but he was never cruel.

  She remembered the time the creative director of their advertising agency dramatically acted out the storyboard for their next commercial; Blake simply crossed his arms and cleared his throat. The flamboyant CD sobered up right away and got straight to the point.

  Krista smiled at the memory, then nearly jumped in fright when somebody behind her cleared his throat and muttered in a clipped British accent, “Excuse me, Miss. I would really like to get some of those succulent prawns. Is it all right if I cut ahead of you?”

  Her wool-gathering had taken her to the buffet tables, and she must have frozen in place. A short line had formed behind the tall, stunningly handsome man who looked exactly like the villain in the Thor and Avenger movies.

  She flushed in embarrassment and stammered, “I, uhm, sorry. Please go ahead.” She hastily grabbed a plateful of prawns when he was done, then nearly ran to the table where Blake waited for her. She dropped down on a chair beside him.

  His lips twitched with suppressed laughter. He had witnessed the scene with the Hollywood actor and the prawns. Krista covered her face with her hands and groaned. “Aargh! That was so humiliating.” Blake hooted with laughter; she reached over and hit him on the shoulder. “Stop laughing at me. It’s not funny!”

  “Ouch! You must not know your own strength, darling. That hurts.” Blake grinned at her, rubbing his “injured” shoulder.

  “Come on, now. You looked adorable matching the color of the seafood when you blushed. Also, you might have drooled a little when you saw him.” He playfully wiped the side of her mouth with his thumb. She snarled at him and attempted to bite his offending finger, and he chuckled again.

  “Cannibal,” Blake teased. “So, what are your plans tomorrow?” He went back to eating. The three plates in front of him were piled high with assorted seafood.

  He must work out a lot, she mused. I know there’s not an ounce of fat on that muscular body. A frisson of heat rushed through her as she recalled the way her softness had melded with his hard form this afternoon.

  Head bowed to hide her blush, she replied, “It’s Sunday, so I’ll probably go to mass in the morning. Then maybe I’ll take a jeepney to D’Mall. My friends packed my luggage but left out a few things I need. I might grab some lunch there as well. What about you?”

  “I wasn’t planning to do anything but sleep, swim, and eat, which I usually do when I’m here. But you turned all my plans upside down ...” His tone turned serious. “And me inside out.” He reached for her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. “Can I go with you?”

  “To mass? I didn’t know you’re Catholic.” He kept surprising her with revelations that matched her curiosity about him exactly. She left her hand in his, letting his thumb draw circles on her palm, making her tingle all over.

  “Ah-huh. I’m Irish-Italian-American, what else would I be? I was even an altar boy when I was young, but lost my way when I learned about girls,” he replied with a naughty grin. “I do go to church on Easter Sunday and Christmas Day, especially when I go back to New York to visit the folks. My mama insists, and I don’t like disappointing my mother. She’s not even five feet tall, but she can still kick my butt,” he said with a fond look on his face.

  “Aha! You’re a mama’s boy. I should have known you’d be spoiled,” she said, only half-kidding. She removed her hand from his clasp. Can this guy be for real? How could I not like a man who loves his mother and is not afraid to show it?

  “All of us three brothers are mama’s boys,” he conceded. “Just like my only sister is Daddy’s girl.”

  This inside look into his life fascinated Krista. She didn’t think anybody at the company knew this much about him. Maybe his secretary, Miss Malou, did; she must surely have received calls from his family when his cellphone was turned off, or when he left it on his desk during meetings.

  This policy she agreed with—when they were in a meeting, he ordered that all mobile phones be left in lockers outside the conference room. This made the meetings go at a more efficient pace.

  She had noticed Blake’s absolute hatred of long meetings. Thirty minutes was his maximum limit. He’d cut in at the twenty-five-minute mark, tell the group to wind it down, and then he would leave. Many vendors and service providers had discovered how almost fanatical he was about this rule and adjusted their presentations accordingly.

  Gah. Is there anything about this man I don’t like or respect? If not for his arrogance, he’d be Mr. Perfect.

  She nodded her head and replied jokingly, “If you’re sure lightning won’t strike when you enter the church, then yes, you can go with me.” She stood up and declared, “I’m going to get dessert. Do you want anything?”

  “I’m good, thanks. I don’t like sweets at night.” Patting his flat stomach, he added, “I’m so busog.” He was so full. “Don’t make Loki wait for the leche flan this time,” he called, sniggering behind her back.

  She turned around to poke her tongue out at him and pivoted towards the dessert table. He is so annoying, she thought with a smile. There, he’s not too perfect after all.

  SUNDAY

  Chapter Seven

  Bahala na [ba-ha-la-na] – “let fate take its course.” (A Filipino saying.)

  As the priest droned on in his homily, Blake squirmed in his seat, frequently looking at his watch. How could it still be just eight forty-five? He gave himself a mental smack in the head for trying to impress Krista by going to church with her.

  I am in a hell of my own making. First, he could not understand the Visayan language. Krista amazed him with her ability to follow the ceremony and say the right r
esponses.

  Second, he was sweating profusely because the church was stiflingly hot. It was packed with people, and the fan above his head wasn’t working. In complete contrast to him, Krista looked cool in her cute little sundress and matching sandals, with her hair pulled back from her face in a loose ponytail. She even had a sarong wrapped around her shoulders; an improvised shawl for modesty.

  Last, he was sleepy having stayed up late drinking Scotch whisky with the popular actor who was staying at the resort upon his invitation. The well-known thespian was the first choice to endorse their men’s grooming line. He’d finally committed to it at two am. Blake came down to Boracay on Friday evening to speak with him, but the Hollywood star was ensconced in his cottage with the Do Not Disturb sign on the door.

  Probably banging an island girl or two, Blake assumed uncharitably. He hoped it wasn’t any of his staff, but even if it was, he couldn’t act as the moral police to forbid them from doing something they wanted. As long as it was consensual and no money was exchanged; the partners wouldn’t like having charges of prostitution directed against Perlas.

  A poke on his side startled Blake. Krista was frowning down at him. The sermon had finally ended, and the congregation had risen for the recitation of the Nicene Creed.

  Sheepishly, he got to his feet and started to pay attention. He recited the prayers in English, knelt and stood up at the proper times, and shook hands with his neighbors as a sign of peace. He gave Krista a peck on the cheek and held her hand during the singing of The Lord’s Prayer but did not go with her to take communion.

  Blake was fifteen the last time he went to confession, for that sin of fornication. He didn’t feel comfortable taking the body of Christ into his own without the benefit of absolution. If he decided to come clean about the sinful things he wanted to do with Krista, he would be in the confessional for hours.