True Colors by Amy Knupp

Author:Amy Knupp [Knupp, Amy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lake House Books

Chapter Twenty

Mackenzie had succumbed to the magic of the tropical island hours ago, maybe the second she entered Drake’s casita, and she refused to worry about it.

This, with Drake, was temporary, and that fact made it just about perfect.

She was in Drake’s arms, fully clothed now, in a casual black dress. The dance floor was an area on the patio cleared of tables and chairs, and they were the only ones on it right now. The Fijian musicians—two guitarists and one playing a ukulele—on the tiny stage of the outdoor lounge area were winding down a love song they’d played at Drake’s request. Their style was island music all the way, with a bit of a reggae beat to it—upbeat, happy songs that would forever take her back to tonight in her mind.

“Those guys are incredible,” she said, smiling up at him, “but I’m not sure what makes this a love song compared to the others. It’s not like a sappy American ballad.”

“It’s the lyrics,” Drake said matter-of-factly, which made her laugh because the words were in a different language, and though he’d gotten Felise, their server, to teach him please and thank you in Fijian, she was sure he didn’t understand any of the song. He laughed with her, and then he lowered his lips and kissed her as the music ended, lingering over her mouth for just long enough to spike her pulse with the unspoken message that this was a prelude to more, later, when they were alone.

Someone started clapping, drawing their attention to the stage. The ukulele player grinned widely and aimed the applause at her and Drake. Hamming it up, Drake bowed, then gestured with a flourish to Mackenzie, who, playing along, attempted an awkward curtsy. They all laughed, Mackenzie included, and Drake nodded his appreciation to the musicians as he wove his fingers with hers and led her back to their table.

There were several other couples scattered around the lounge deck, most at tables and one of them heading out to the “dance floor.” The atmosphere was laid-back yet romantic. How could it not be with the sound of the distant surf audible in between songs and the scent of the sea and tropical flowers hanging in the warm night air? There was a straw-roofed cabana along one side that served as the bar, with a bartender working the counter and Felise, the one and only server, handling table service.

Early that afternoon, Mackenzie and Drake had eventually passed out into a long, deep jet-lag nap after a couple of rounds of life-changing sex. She’d woken to an island breeze blowing over Drake’s bed and an atmospheric twilight temporarily disorienting her until she remembered where and when—and with whom—she was.

The resort offered personal chef services and a choice of eating in the room, out here at the lounge tables, or anywhere else on the private island. They’d chosen the lounge, in part so Mackenzie could experience as much as possible for professional reasons. All thoughts

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