Free One Week in Your Arms by Patricia Preston

something and see it become a reality.”
    â€œYeah, it is,” he admitted.
    As she followed Carson into the lobby, she tried not to act like a country girl on her first trip to town even though she was sure she looked like a gawking, awe-struck tourist. She had stayed in a few upscale hotels before. But none of them compared to Kingsford.
    The lobby’s glossy floor had an intricate mosaic design featuring deep, rich island greens. Shards of color spilled from the stained-glass dome overhead and water rippled down the sides of a rock fountain that stood in the center of a goldfish pond. The brightly-colored fish seemed oblivious to the well-heeled humans in the lobby.
    â€œMr. Blackwell.” Carson was greeted in the lobby by an older man in a black suit. Carson introduced the man to Marla. “This is Jacob Damaire, the hotel manager.”
    â€œDr. Grant, it is my pleasure.” He put a lei of white orchids around her neck. “Welcome to Kauai. I hope you enjoy your stay and if there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
    She touched the fragrant orchids. “Thank you.”
    Maybe this trip wasn’t going to be so bad. Hope rose inside her. This beautiful place was a rare treat and she did want to have fun.
    Carson headed across the lobby toward the elevator. She trotted alongside him. A porter followed, pushing a luggage cart. “Don’t we have to sign in?”
    â€œNo, we don’t have to sign in.”
    â€œOh.” Maybe there was some sort of pre-sign in. “You already know the room number?”
    He chuckled. “You could say that.”
    He led the way to the end of a hall where a private elevator waited. It took them to the top floor. The doors slid open and revealed a vestibule where ferns vied for the sunlight pouring through a side window.
    Carson led the way to a dark cherry door and tapped the keypad. The door unlocked, and he pushed it open. He held it for her. “This is the penthouse suite.”
    Marla entered the spacious apartment. The penthouse . She should have known.
    She had expected something sleek and modern in tones of gray because being rich and understated went hand-in-hand. She was surprised to see warm walls, tall ceilings with dark beams, and doorway arches along with tropical plants, bamboo ceiling fans, and decorative ironwork on the walls. She liked the blend of island and Tuscany décor.
    The living area was open and airy. Sunlight poured through the glass wall facing the ocean. A teakwood bar with matching stools separated the living room from the dining room and kitchen. Everything was gleaming and spotless as if the kitchen had never been disturbed by human life. It was like a photo in a magazine.
    All glossy and perfect and illusory.
    She glanced at Carson. She wondered if the same could be said of his life.
    While he tipped the porter, she looked out the glass wall in the living area. A covered gallery hugged the penthouse and a tiled terrace led to a private swimming pool.
    â€œYou have your own swimming pool?”
    â€œYes.” He motioned to the gallery where a patio table for four offered a terrific view of the ocean. He explained the gallery was called a lanai on the island.
    â€œThe lanai encircles the penthouse. You’ll have access to it from any room.” He withdrew his vibrating phone from his pocket. “Hey, Truman.”
    While he spoke to his friend, she wandered around the penthouse. “Oh, my,” she remarked as she checked out the electronic kitchen appliances and granite counter tops in dark brownish-gold. Unlike her fridge at home, the stainless-steel refrigerator was free of magnets and notes. The stove looked unused.
    She found a half-bath in the hallway. Continuing down the hall, she found an airy bedroom with mint green walls and whitewashed French furnishings. A canopy of floating netting draped over the headboard of the bed. Folding doors led to a