Tropical Holiday Tails - Zoe Chant Page 0,17

decades of moving constantly from place to place, she’d never lost her wonder and delight in each new place they stayed.

“Well, if we can go by smell alone, I am willing to settle down and spend the next twenty years here,” she said merrily. It smelled like exotic plants and flowers and saltwater, and the air was just the right amount of hot and humid.

Chet peered around suspiciously as he helped her down, clearly expecting enemies to leap from the looming jungle. But there were no enemies; there had not been enemies for more than twenty years.

“Something’s burning,” Chet said critically, looking disappointed by the lack of anything to protect her from.

“Something else is blooming,” Agneta said mildly, taking his arm. She let the man in the resort uniform hurry forward to take a load of luggage with a grin on his golden-skinned face. He took more at once than a human possibly could, not at all bothered by the weight of her belongings.

“A place where we can openly be shifters,” she said with a sigh of delight. “It has been so long since I had a chance to be on four paws. I may never leave, Chet my darling.”

Chet, always a harder sell, looked dubious but Agneta knew he would do anything she wanted. She prayed she would never betray that trust.

A red-haired woman with a direct emerald gaze greeted them in her office. “I’m Scarlet. I own the resort and I’ll be checking you in today. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if there is anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable.”

Agneta took the hand she offered and shook it elegantly. “Agneta,” she said. “But I prefer to go by Magnolia. This is…Jack Ryan.”

Chet also shook Scarlet’s hand, and she did not so much as smile at the famous spy name. He gave her a challenging look, clearly assessing her as a threat.

Scarlet didn’t ask any questions about their names, only about their requirements as guests and their shift forms. “There is, of course, no predation, anywhere in the resort or in the nearby jungle. The buffet is open 24 hours, with a catered breakfast and dinner at these hours.”

They signed a pile of forms and took the keys to one of the upscale cottages.

“Jack Ryan? Really?” Chet asked as they descended the stairs. He walked at her side, though Agneta knew that his instinct was to walk a few steps behind. It had taken many long years to get him to break that habit.

“Well, James Bond seemed too obvious,” Agneta teased him. “I like Magnolia, though. I might keep this one.”

The game had lost some of its thrill lately, Agneta thought, with a sideways look at Chet as he unlocked the door.

He had lost some of his thrill.

Not to her, of course. Every time she looked at him, it was exactly like the first time she’d seen him. Even without his uniform, he took her breath away with his broad chest and his big arms and his handsome face. They had both aged since then, but Agneta—Magnolia—thought he was only more distinguished now; youth had never been his best feature and silvering hair suited him.

And she was absolutely confident that he was no less thrilled with her now than he’d been the moment they met. He still loved every curve and adored every fold of flesh and looked at her as if she’d hung the stars.

But some of the light had gone out of him. He never sang anymore, and he went through the motions of their life without the skip in his step that he’d once had.

He’d lost his purpose.

She needed protection less now than ever, and while Magnolia would happily spend hours by the pool drinking margaritas and sunbathing, Chet needed something more to do.

Something meaningful.

Shuffleboard and boat tours wouldn’t keep him occupied for long; he didn’t find being entertained fulfilling. She had persuaded him to take singing lessons in Italy, and cooking classes in Savannah that he’d loved—but they’d had a house with a kitchen there and none of the cottages here had cooking facilities…and he never sang anymore. As isolated as Shifting Sands was, on its own little island in the Pacific off of Costa Rica, classes were limited to a very spare schedule of dancing and yoga.

The cottage was lovely, fully appointed, with two large bedrooms (so that Chet could keep up his personal pretense that he was only her bodyguard), two generous bathrooms, and a private porch