Formula for Passion. Yahrah John St.

thought we’d start off first at a local dive bar by the beach here in town called Captain Cook’s. It may not look like much on the outside so don’t expect any fancy sauces or elaborate presentations like at the resort, but I promise you it has some of the freshest seafood around. We’ll have some beers and maybe a Rum Runner before heading to the Bávaro Disco.”

      Courtney gave Jasper a wink. “Sounds like you’ve thought of everything.”

      “Not everything. Just save some energy for what I have in store for you later tonight.” And with that comment, he took her by the hand and pulled her toward the door.

      “Wait, wait,” Courtney said, grabbing her clutch purse from the cocktail table. Seconds later they were out the door.

      “Boy, you weren’t lying,” Courtney stated when they made it to Captain Cook’s. The position right on the beach was great, but it looked as if she were walking into someone’s garage. Large outdoor grills were near the entrance, and the plastic tables underneath palm-frond gazebos weren’t much to speak of. There were large bathtubs filled with ice and all kinds of seafood, from lobster to shrimp to crab, all caught fresh from the sea.

      “You can pick whatever you want,” Jasper said, “and they’ll cook it for you.”

      “Is this sanitary?” Courtney asked from his side, looking down in the tub.

      “Trust me, okay?” Jasper gave her hand a squeeze. “I wouldn’t poison you. This place has been around a long time. C’mon.” He pulled her toward the entrance. “Let’s have a beer.”

      “Isn’t there any air-conditioned seating?” Courtney asked. She was sweltering after the ride in Jasper’s truck, which didn’t have a working a/c unit.

      “Don’t tell me you care about a little sweat?” Jasper asked. Because he could remember she was sweating plenty the other morning when he was buried deep inside her, and she was rising to meet his every thrust.

      “I don’t mind it in the right moment,” Courtney clarified, “but I don’t like to sweat over my food.”

      “There are fans outside,” Jasper said, and led her to a palm-frond gazebo. They passed by a local band that was coming by each gazebo and serenading them. “You’re going to live like a local.”

      From where they were on the beach, Courtney could see the yachts moored off the beach and sunbathers and tourists on their Jet Skis and WaveRunners.

      Once they were seated, Jasper ordered a variety of grilled lobster, shrimp and calamari off the menu along with some ice-cold beer.

      Although she appreciated a man who took the lead, Courtney couldn’t resist commenting, “I am capable of ordering for myself.”

      “I realize that,” Jasper replied, “but I know some of their best menu items. If you like I can get the waitress back.”

      “No need,” Courtney said. “I trust your judgment.”

      “You just wanted me to know you could.”

      “Exactly.” She pointed at him.

      “Why are you so desperate to be taken seriously, Courtney? Don’t you get enough of that in the real world?” As soon as he said the words, Jasper realized he’d let the cat out of the bag that he knew her identity.

      “What do you mean? Do you know who I am?” Courtney searched his face for a sign of the truth.

      Jasper struggled with whether he should lie or not, but considering he already wasn’t playing fair about his true identity, he thought better of digging himself farther in the hole. “I happened to overhear the staff mention that you’re a model is all.” In truth, it was Miguel who’d told him, but he couldn’t tell her that he’d been checking into her background.

      Amusement flickered in Courtney’s eyes. “I’m no model.”

      The waitress returned with their beer and set both bottles on the table.

      “Cheers.” Jasper held up his bottle and Courtney clicked hers against his. “So, why do you say you’re not a model?”

      “I’m a spokesmodel for my family’s cosmetics company,” Courtney replied.

      Jasper bristled inside. “Oh and what does that entail?”

      He wanted to appear curious and not give away that he knew more. His father’s animosity toward the Adamses had nothing to do with him. Jasper held no ill will against her family, though he suspected Courtney might not see it that way.

      “You mean beyond being a pretty face?” Courtney jeered. “My job is to increase product awareness. Usually I do this by making public appearances at special events, department stores, malls, clubs and trade shows, that sort of thing. The goal, of course, is to reach as many consumers as possible.”

      “So you’re a party girl?” Jasper asked.

      Courtney glared at him with reproachful eyes. His words had stung. “I resent what you’re implicating, which is that I don’t work hard.” She was already very sensitive about this particular topic, because she felt her siblings didn’t take her contribution to the company seriously. “Research has shown that a consumer’s perception of a brand, product, service or company is profoundly affected by a live person-to-person experience. As a spokesmodel, I interact with many people at once to maximize a quantitative influence on consumer demand for our products.” She sighed. “Why does everyone undervalue my contribution?”

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you.” Obviously, he’d hit a nerve. “I only meant that I imagine it can get pretty tiring.”

      “All that partying,” Courtney added bitterly, taking a generous swig of her beer.

      Jasper ignored her sarcasm. “No. I meant being in the public eye and constantly surrounded by people. I prefer my solitude.”

      “I’m used to it,” she replied wearily. She’d become immune to her situation. How could she not after a decade of being AC’s spokesmodel? But still, she was tired of being underappreciated. When she got back to the States, there were going to be some big changes at the company.

      “If you ask me, sounds like you’re ready to move on.”