Page 19 of Grand Escape

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes for a second, trying to remember the high school version of me. It wasn’t something I talked about a lot, and I wasn’t even sure why I was willing to share with Adam, but I was.

Leaning back, I studied him. “You must be one hell of a lawyer. You seem to be able to figure everything out with just a brief glimpse.”

“It’s part of the job, and part of me, I guess. My brother is more of a hunter. He brings in the clients, and I figure out where to go from there. But I don’t want to talk about him. I want to hear about you and running ... where that wicked seven-minute-mile cooldown comes from.”

“I ran in high school.” Pretty sure that was the only time I’d talked about that time other than with Tony, I shocked myself by how easy the admission was.

“Here you two go,” Shell said as she appeared with our drinks.

“Hey, Shell?” Adam looked up at our server.

Shell was even prettier than usual tonight, with her heart-shaped face framed with curly wisps, her lips painted coral, and her brown skin smooth and creamy.

She was a living, breathing vision. Maybe he would ask her out?

“Yes?” She looked at Adam as if she’d give him anything he asked, despite being in love with her husband.

“I want you to pick all your favorites off the menu and keep them coming. Rylan promised me island cuisine, and that’s what I want.”

“You got it,” she said to Adam. Turning to me, she added, “I like this one.”

Of course she did.

Adam picked up his drink and clinked it to mine. “Cheers.”

“L’chaim.”

Based on the surprise in his expression, I’d caught him off guard, and found myself backpedaling in embarrassment.

“I mean, Adam Stern? If you’re not Jewish, I don’t know who is. Am I right? I’m sorry. That was bad humor and bad judgment on my part.” Honestly feeling terrible about it, I couldn’t stop the outpouring of words from my mouth. “Look, I know better than anyone that judging someone by their name or looks is awful. I was simply making a guess. You see, most of my friends at school were Jewish, so it just came out. Please, don’t be upset.”

“L’chaim,” he said, letting me off the hook. “Now, no more talk about religion. It’s only what we were born into, and our choice whether we believe it when we grow up. I wasn’t offended. I am Jewish, but that’s only one part of me. What I want to hear about is your illustrious high school running career. By the way, what’s your last name? I can google your stats.”

Adam ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back, and I did another random wedding-band check. This guy was too good to be true.

I took a sip of my drink, letting the heavy pour of rum burn my throat and break down my barriers.

“I wasn’t always a runner. First and foremost, I was a tennis player. Singles. Cutthroat and competitive like my parents wanted. Mr. and Mrs. James Phillips, that is, so now you know what to google,” I added before he asked again. Eventually, he’d get it out of me. “Around the time I was fifteen, I started getting some pretty serious curves, and so running helped control them. Winning was very important back then, and with boobs and an ass, that wasn’t always possible.”

“I hate that for you,” he said. “I’m sure that hurt on some level, but you turned yourself into a powerhouse as a result.”

I nodded. “My parents were never quite happy enough. I could have been faster, improved my backhand, be skinnier or curvier, or a smarter athlete. In their minds, I always could have been better than I was.”

Leaning in close, Adam whispered, “While I don’t like hearing what happened back then, you’re sporting some serious curves now, and I mean that in the very best way. Not to mention, those curves were beating my ass earlier, so I’m not sure they slowed you down much. Also, I can’t imagine you not being the smartest player there was. You’ve outwitted me for a couple of days now.”

His voice shouldn’t have affected me, but it did. His words more than his tone ... his comfort and encouragement. Maybe it was his easy acceptance of me—the real me—which was something I’d always craved but had never found. Not to mention, he must have doused himself in truth serum rather than cologne, because things I’d bottled up for years were flowing from me.

“Well, that’s my running pace now, curves or not. Gave up the racquet when I came here.”

Adam took a healthy swig of his drink and raised an eyebrow. “There’s more of a story there.”

“Am I on trial?” I asked, trying to joke.

“Should you be? Did you attack someone with a racquet? Were you forced to surrender all your tennis gear?”

This made me laugh. “I did no such thing.”

Shell returned, saving the day with plates of conch fritters, grilled prawns, fried plantains, and the coconut slaw Camila’s was known for.

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