Twist My Heart, Brooke Taylor [best 7 inch ereader TXT] 📗

The stranger didn’t look as though he’d been lying in wait to trip unsuspecting tourists, though. He looked as if he belonged—and as if he was mildly interested in what she was saying. If he’d looked too interested, she might have shut down, but instead, she found herself answering the questioning quirk of his dark eyebrow.

“I’ve…had a bit of a setback recently in my personal life,” she said. It was the understatement of the century.

“Sounds like it was a bad one. Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, just two strangers watching a Caribbean sunset and talking about their personal lives. It suddenly occurred to her that he was the first person besides the unobtrusive security guards that she’d seen on the private beach this entire trip. She’d actually begun to think she must be the only guest at the cabanas. Her thoughts turned suddenly suspicious.

“What are you doing on this beach? It’s supposed to be private and definitely a no-trespassing sort of place.” Her mind turned to the prominent guns she’d seen the security guards carrying, and she wasn’t sure if she was trying to intimidate or warn the stranger.

The white of his smile on his tan face was stunning in the sunset. “Thank you for the warning, chérie, but I am a guest here…in the owner’s cabana.” He gestured with one long, muscular arm and Annelise noticed a path she hadn’t seen before, leading to what looked like a giant house. It was much larger than her own spacious cabin.

“Oh, right. The owner’s French, isn’t he?” Annelise answered, trying to recall the details she knew of the resort. She’d learned about it from her colleague, and the owner was a big-time client of the financial services firm where she worked.

“French-Canadian,” the stranger corrected, raising his eyebrow again, “but I’ll let it slide just this once.”

“Sorry…I know there’s a big difference,” she hastened to apologize. Great, she’d now offended a close friend of a client who could get her fired.

The stranger shook his head. “I was teasing. I’m not so easily offended,” he said, bending up his knees and wrapping his arms loosely around them before motioning toward the soft-looking hollow next to him. “Care to join me? You can’t beat the view.”

Again, his offer was casual. Careless, almost. But somehow that put Annelise at ease when she hadn’t been remotely at ease, anywhere, in months. He had a beautiful voice, dark and rumbling, deep and masculine. It was a good match for his tall, broad frame.

“You’ve already been on top of me. Is it so bad to be next to me?” He waggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated way, and the bark of laughter that escaped her shocked her so much that she put a hand to her mouth. She sat down more out of shock than anything else.

“I…can’t believe you made me laugh. I haven’t…felt like laughing in months.” She spoke her thoughts aloud, almost forgetting she wasn’t alone. Strange, but she felt such an instant camaraderie with the stranger that she already thought of him as a sort of friend.

“The owner told me that there was supposed to be a couple on their wedding trip these weeks. But I have seen you alone?” He made the statement a question.

Annelise felt some of the familiar grief at the word ‘wedding’, but somehow, it felt muted this time. She nodded slowly. “Yes, my fiancé Kyle left me three months before our wedding. We’d been together for seven years, so it was a surprise. I…thought we were in love. I loved him, very much. But he… His note said he didn’t want the same things anymore.”

“Quel conard…putain de merde.”

Annelise was surprised at the vehemence in his voice. It was real anger. It didn’t make her nervous, though. He sounded like she often felt toward Kyle.

“I, ah…don’t remember my high-school French all that well, but I’m guessing what you just said wasn’t very nice.”

The stranger’s easy grin split his face again, and it made him so handsome, even in the growing shadows of dusk, that it almost took her breath away. Still, she could see a real anger and pain behind the geniality.

“I hope they don’t teach these words in high-school French.” He looked back out at the water, and the light blazed pink and red across his cheeks. “I said he was a fool. Well, something like that.”

Annelise raised her eyebrows. “I appreciate it, but I could be awful, you know.”

The man shrugged. A beautifully Gallic shrug that could mean anything. “You could be, but I don’t think you are. The catch in your voice, the sadness in your eyes… You loved this fiancé very much. You were committed. He hurt you.”

His words hung in the sunset, heavy with meaning. He understood. Somehow, Annelise felt how much he really understood.

“What was her name?” she guessed.

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About the Author

Brooke Taylor lives and writes from her country home in Oklahoma where her pets are a constant, but happy, distraction. When she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys horseback riding, going to the lake, and traveling.

Brooke has worked extensively in the travel industry, from dude ranches to ski resorts to cruise lines. Her many overseas adventures include sky diving in New Zealand, scuba diving with sharks, sailing through hurricanes, and having her tent attacked by wild animals in the Mara game reserve in Kenya. Due to current health insurance rates, Brooke is letting her characters do most of the risk-taking from now on.

Brooke