Free Burn Me if You Can by Mahalia Levey Page A

having a miniature vacation while working excited her.
    She’d always wanted to visit San Juan but hadn’t made her way to Cuba’s shores.
    Her stomach fluttered, and she crossed and uncrossed her legs, gripping her handbag with sweaty hands. “Excuse me,” she said into the intercom.
    “Ma’am?”
    “How much longer?” She rubbed her lips together then took out her gloss and dabbed on a fresh coat.
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    Burn Me If You Can
    “We’re pulling up now. Look to your left and you’ll see the resort ma’am.”
    “Thank you.” Rebekah smoothed her clothing and checked the mirror for stray hairs. Luckily, what she’d packed for desert weather was equally suited for humidity and bright beaches. The resort sat on Cayo Santa Maria, within Cavos de La Herradura, where white sand stretched far as she could see, and the crystalline waters were said to hold a serene quality. They passed the onsite pool and she noticed the lilypad-shaped, padded chairs floating atop the water.
    Her body thrummed in anticipation. Suddenly her story didn’t matter as much as living for the moment and having a fun two days. How long had it been since she’d taken time off? Forever.
    This is not a romantic trip.
    She didn’t believe in magic, so why was the pretty island tugging at her heart and the thought of having a memorable time surging through her? Daydreaming wasn’t for reporters. This is a business trip. That little thought helped immensely.
    The vehicle came to a stop in front of the hotel registration entrance. The chauffeur opened the door and extended his hand to help her out. She took it and stepped into the fresh, warm air. Once she cleared the car, she dropped his hand and slipped her shades on. “Thank you. May I tip you?”
    “No, ma’am. The required fees and compensation have been taken care of. I will unload your luggage while you check in.”
    “Oh. Thanks…again.” She felt like a clod for over thanking him for doing his job.
    “Enjoy your stay; that will be thanks enough.” The man smiled and loaded her garment bag and suitcase onto a cart. She followed him inside, removed her glasses, and headed to the registration desk.
    “Afternoon, I’m Rebekah Shayne, checking in for the next two days,” she said, breathless from the opulent interior of the resort. She wasn’t a connoisseur of building structure and decor in the least, but she knew raw beauty surrounded her in all directions.
    “Welcome to Castillo San Juan. We have a message for you from Mr. Foster.
    He wishes for you to get settled in your suite of rooms before joining him for dinner. Here’s your magnetic keycard. The elevators are through the double 3

    Mahalia Levey
    doors to your left, and you’re on the fourteenth floor, just below the penthouse suites. We hope you enjoy your stay.”
    Rebekah accepted the key and headed toward the elevators, taking in all the details of the luxury hotel as she passed. She slid her key into a slot to gain access to the elevator and slipped inside. Soft music filtered from tiny speakers above her head as she rode to her floor. Once there, she peeked out the bay doors and then followed the signs to her room. The opulence that greeted her there added to her awe. “I have died and gone to heaven,” she told no one but herself, and gave into falling on the bed like a teenager. Squealing-girl behavior out of her system, she moved over to the double-wide veranda doors that opened outward.
    Immediately she was washed with the scent of fresh sea air and as far as the eye can see view of the Caribbean Sea. Mesmerized, she stood with her hands on the iron railing taking in the scenery. How could one not fall in love with such paradise? Feeling a bit over-stimulated, she turned and entered her suite, noticing her belongings already hanging in the closet, her extra set of heels and flip-flops resting on the closet floor. How nice, she thought, and decided to slip into a new coral-colored sundress and freshen up for her