I have decided to make some changes.

Never having had a diary before, I let that bold first line sit there for a few days, tempting me.  Tempting fate.  I felt at once very brave... and very foolish.  And yet, even as I wrote those words, a sense of excitement seemed to electrify me.  A lot of cultures believe words have power.  Some of that blood runs in my own veins.  I can't help but wonder if that is not at least part of the reason for the events those rash, venturesome words set in motion. 

Perhaps, Diary, it would be helpful for you to know what was going through my mind when I purchased you.  You were beautiful to be sure, a traveler's diary.  Old-fashioned, with that extra flap of leather that folded around and secured with a bit of twine to protect the precious pages inside.  It was an odd choice for a woman who didn't travel, but at the time, I didn't think much of it.  I only knew I had to have you. 

Looking back, I think it was because I felt I was at a crossroads.  What do you do when one chapter of your life ends and the next is unwritten?  Well, Diary, as you know, I threw caution into the wind and took a chance.  I stepped outside my safe little world and on a lark, decided to take a holiday.  Now, while I'm a bit impulsive by nature, typically it's more along the lines of deciding to up and paint one of the rooms in my home a different color rather than deciding to up and leave the country.  But with those decisive words I had written, it seems I gained a bit of courage.  Or perhaps they simply silenced the voice of reason, of caution, that has always governed so much of my behavior. 

Well, no more!

I didn't even stop and let myself think.  To be honest, it was a bit like a dream.  I called a travel agent without even having a destination in mind and twenty minutes later, I had my itinerary.  The British Virgin Islands.  What made me choose that locale, you wonder?  Honestly, I'm not really sure.  The agent read me a list of destinations and that one just sounded... right, I guess.  Maybe I'm crazy, but the minute she said it, that tickle of excitement I felt when I wrote those first words in you, Diary, well, it blossomed.  A flowery word to be sure (no pun intended) but God, did it ever.  We're talking the whole nine yards - sweaty palms, head spinning, heart slamming, full-on blossomed. 

Less than twenty-four hours later, I was digging my bare toes into the sand.  

Maybe it's stupid, but I thought once I did that, the strange sense of - well, I'm not exactly sure what that strange sense is - I kind of thought it would go away and yet now that I'm here, it's only grown stronger.  You know, I'm not altogether sure I like it.  It's not quite on par with Peter Parker's 'Spidy-sense' or anything, but it's still weird.  And unsettling.  Good thing I have a will of iron.  I forced that strange feeling into a deep, dark hole and slammed the door on it, determined that it wouldn't distract me from enjoying the first vacation I'd taken in more than five years.  It worked. 

Sort of.    

I lazed in the sun, sipping sweet, fruity drinks that tasted as good as the perfumed air smelled and alternated between the ocean and the beach, playing in both with all the carefree abandon of a child.  I collected pretty pebbles worn smooth by the surf and built castles of glittering, white sand.  I meandered through various marketplaces, sampling dishes flavored with unfamiliar spices and smiling at the way the sweet smell of the tourist's coconut-scented sun block seemed to be as pervasive as the salty smell of the ocean and the decisive scent of old money.  Dear Lord, Diary, you wouldn't believe some of the boats I've seen moored here.  Now I know why they call this place the yachting capital of the world.  

And yet, in all of that, the strange feeling still lingered at the back of my mind.  It seemed as though no matter how many streets and shops and beaches I wandered, I still didn't find what I was looking for.  It made no sense because I really wasn't looking for anything.  Well, nothing in particular, anyway.  A people watcher by nature, I looked a lot, enjoying the sight of sun-kissed children running in the streets and beautiful, dark-haired island women gossiping in the shade while the scantily clad tourists cavorted in the sun.  A little pink-cheeked myself, I couldn't really fault them for that.  The beaches here really are irresistibly lovely. 

And make no mistake, Diary, I watched the men too.  

Thought I wouldn't confess that, did you?  Ha!  I always tell the truth.  I looked.  Avidly.  For such a goody two-shoes, I've a wicked imagination.  It serves me well on those long nights I spend alone in my bed, but that's neither here nor there.  Mostly I just had fun and tried to ignore that odd feeling that never quite stopped niggling at me.  What's worse, it seemed to be sharpening, becoming more pronounced as I island hopped.  And stranger still, it wasn't like that kind of feeling you read about in novels where a person feels inexplicably drawn to a particular place.  The longer I spent in the islands, the more time I spent on the beach, feeling like whatever was pulling at me was just beyond the horizon.

Now, while I've always loved the ocean, it's never called to me like that.  I mean, sure, I love to swim and beach comb, but my heart's never belonged to the sea, not like people whose culture is so intertwined with the ocean that it's impossible to separate one from the other, or like the true sailors who hear its siren call so loudly they are powerless to resist it.  For me, it was more like whatever was drawing me to the water's edge wasn't the ocean itself, but something else, something just beyond my grasp.  It was annoyingly frustrating.  For as free-spirited as I am in some ways, I like definitive answers.  Peter Parker and his funky 'Spidy-sense' can cram it. 

Telling myself I'd been watching too much sci-fi (or perhaps it was that in the last few days, I'd had one too many drinks of the teeny umbrella variety - also a plausible theory)  I threw a few items, diary included, in my trusty satchel and on a whim, boarded the ferry headed for Tortola, wondering if the local artists there were as good as they were rumored to be.

Feeling a little self-conscious being a woman alone surrounded for the most part by couples, families, and groups of friends on holiday, I worried one of the smooth pebbles I'd found on the beach between my fingers and moved to the rail.  Despite the grandeur of the open ocean, I closed my eyes and turned my face into the wind, smiling as the rushing in my ears drowned out the sounds of the people around me.  Feeling the sun on my face and the wind in my hair always makes me feel beautiful and I relaxed in spite of myself, giving in to the gentle rocking motion of the ferry and the blissful calm that came with it. 

Unfortunately, that feeling of peace didn't last long.  

That little annoying tingle of unnamed whatever became a full-fledged roar, only this time, it was accompanied by the unmistakable feeling of being watched.  I opened my eyes to find a pair of intense blue eyes resting on me.  Oh well, at least his eyes were on my face and not on my......  wait, never mind.  Men, they are the same the world over... And, Diary?  So are women.  I'd grown quite warm under his appreciative eye.  Still, his gaze flicked back up just as quickly, accompanied by a small, playful smile and I got the distinct impression that the owner of those eyes, an attractive redheaded man wearing a garishly loud island print shirt, was assessing me in the same way a soldier might survey the lay of the land before he attempts an assault. 

It was distinctly disturbing.

However much an appreciative look from an attractive man might have bolstered my self-confidence, it went the way of most glances, heated or otherwise.  We each looked away, him with his attention drawn away by the appearance of a stunning blond pixie lugging around two canvas bags, and me with downcast eyes and a blush.  Hopefully, he'd think it was just a touch of sun.  In any case, I returned my gaze to the ocean and told myself it was just a fluke. 

He wasn't really my type anyway.  A little more lean than I usually preferred and he was far too much the playboy - the kind of man who has a woman in every port, you know?  There was absolutely no reason for me to feel anything, let alone this weird prickly feeling like my blood was tickling in my veins.  Pushing that growing feeling of unease into the back of my mind, I left the rail and indulged my inquisitive nature in a bit of people watching as I made my way to the top deck. 

I drew up short as my gaze came to rest on a man who looked very much like... well, like a young Russell Crowe.  The little tickle that had been niggling at me for days suddenly became a jolt, like some kind of inner cattle prod gone haywire.  I dropped heavily onto the nearest bench, feeling decidedly green about the gills for a long moment until the sensation waned.  It wasn't so much that the young man had a somewhat familiar face.  In truth, I'm not entirely sure it was the man himself as much as it was (and, Diary?  I know this is going to sound completely insane) as much as it was seeing him with his friends.  No, it was seeing the four of them together at the rail.   

They were clearly a close group.  The redhead, the pixyish blond, the young 'Crowe' and another handsome young man who was quite obviously his lover.  The intimacy between them all was unmistakable, but there was a sexual undercurrent between those two in particular.  A smile turned up the corners of my mouth and laughter came bubbling to the surface as my brain followed that thought through to its logical conclusion.  Shameless of me, I know, but I did tell you I had a very vivid imagination.

My amusement dissipated when I locked eyes with the young man and watched him pale and then steady himself, much the same way I just had.  You know, Diary, for as much as I love to observe (and ultimately learn) about other people, I can be incredibly obtuse when it comes to myself and my own relationships.  Unfortunately, this seems to increase exponentially when I get the sense a man is interested in me as a potential sex partner. 

It's really rather unfair.  I spent half a decade earning a degree in Anthropology, learning to observe other cultures and the relationships inherent therein, but of course, when it comes to my own life, all that training doesn't do me one damn bit of good.  So typical.  It failed me this time as well and I blushed to the roots of my hair as I realized the young man wasn't pointing at something behind me, he was pointing at me.

Still, I'm not one to back down from a challenge and as they all stared at me, I stared back.  I couldn't help myself.  That strange tingly feeling inside me was beginning to shift and as it did, all of us exchanged these nervous smiles.  It felt almost like someone had told a joke that we all should have gotten and yet none of us present got the punch line.  Well, none of us but the redhead.  No nervous grin on that one.  His smile was warm and openly flirtatious. 

For as much bravado as I showed then, Diary, it took just about everything I had to hold that man's eyes as he approached me.  I wondered, briefly, if he could see the pulse pounding at the base of my throat.  God knows, I could certainly hear it pounding in my ears.  Keeping a completely straight face, he came up to me and delivered what had to be one of the cheesiest opening lines ever... but, Diary?  His eyes were positively dancing with merriment. 

I blushed, of course.  Not because of the lame line, but because his interest was clear and it had been a long time since I'd caught the eye of a man like that.  So naturally, I fired one right back at him, thankful my normal defense mechanism was functioning properly.  I needed a bit of distance.  Well, that and truthfully, Diary, it's fun.  Although I love a good laugh, I love a good exchange of wits even more. 

It also takes some of the pressure off.  Many things can be concealed (or ignored altogether for that matter) when you're cutting it up.  And Lord knows, if a man can't handle my mouth when I'm simply playing... well, let's just say a little verbal singeing's the least of his worries.  I'm a passionate person by nature, tending toward fierce emotion.  When I love, I love with my whole heart.  And when I'm aggravated, well, I tend to be a bit... um, fiery.   

In any case, I liked Dino in spite of myself.  He was a world class cad to be sure, but he had a sharp wit and I found myself responding to it despite my better judgment.  I could also tell he had the same mischievous spirit I did.  His eyes said it all.  They were playful and yet, a little bit sad, I think.  I couldn't help but like him.  And it quickly became apparent that we not only threw sparks off each other, but that we seemed to feed off each other's fire. 

And like always, Diary, the voice of reason intruded, threatening to ruin my fun.  This time, it actually felt more like my inner barometer was warning me away, although not in the same way the voice of caution warns all good little girls away from casual sex.  It was deeper than that, almost like a portent, the sense that sleeping with this man would have serious ramifications. 

I'm not entirely sure why I felt that so strongly.  To begin with, I've never been the one night stand kind of girl so it was a moot point anyway.  Secondly, even if I had been, what I was feeling went way beyond the obligatory 'he'll not respect you in the morning'.  Hell, it went beyond the 'you won't respect yourself in the morning'.  It was more along the lines of 'this is a man you won't ever forget and sleeping with him could seriously fuck things up beyond anything you could possibly imagine'. 

And you know, Diary, for the first time in my life, I shut out that little voice and did exactly as I pleased.         

We stood there exchanging volleys a bit longer and the more we did, the more I felt like I'd made the right decision.  Well, at least that's what I told myself as I shoved aside the little voice that was shrieking, "Danger, Will Robinson!  Danger!" 

Bah!  Caution?  Who needs it?  

I was having entirely too much fun.  Dino was too by the looks of it.  He charmed me into meeting his friends (something I was a little nervous about considering the strange looks that had passed between us earlier)  but I swear, Diary, that man could talk the chocolate out of an M&M, and before I knew it, I'd not only agreed to meet his friends, I'd also agreed to let him escort me around town. 

After meeting his 'cohorts-in-crime', as he called them, I felt a bit guilty for stealing him away.  They were a fun bunch and I got the sense that they were more family, really, than friends.  They graciously (well, with some good-natured ribbing) released Dino from his obligations.  As the ferry docked and we parted, that weird tingly feeling melted into something else, something warmer.  I remember thinking how odd it was that I'd felt so comfortable with them, despite our shaky beginning.  It was so strange, Diary.  Almost like meeting family. 

Dino didn't give me much chance to muse on that odd sensation, however.  It took a lot of concentration to keep up a battle of wits with that man as we wandered the streets of Road Town.  Between wisecracks, we slipped in little things, personal things, about ourselves.  He knew the game, just as I did.  Soon the wisecracks only came when conversation became a little too personal or an innocent (or not so innocent) question hit a little too close to home.

He talked about his friends, his work, even a little about his past.  Sweet Jesus, Diary, a Marine.  My respect for him ratcheted up a few notches and so did my understanding of a great number of other things.  My attraction to him, for starters.  Well, not that weird tingly business, but at least it explained a bit of why we got on so well together.  I'm from a military family.  My brother's a Marine.  My father flew fighter planes in Vietnam.  My grandfather was on the beach that day in Normandy.  I know a little something about relating to military men. 

He didn't say much, of course.  The real soldiers never do.  But it explained so much, the self-assuredness, the cocksure attitude... the sadness I'd seen in his eyes earlier.  I wondered how many brothers he'd lost.  How many lovers he'd had to leave behind.  How many times he'd cracked a joke to hide how he really felt.    

It moved me.  Deeply.  

He saw it, Diary.  I know he did... and he kissed me for the first time, right there in the marketplace amid piles of brightly stacked fruit.  It was a chaste kiss, but his fingertips lingered at my nape and he whispered something into my hair.  My Spanish is pretty rusty, but recognized the words 'little sister' and then he said something about dreams that I didn't quite catch.  What an odd thing to say after kissing a woman, don't you think?  He cracked a joke right after, of course, but he held my hand a long time after that.  And you know what, Diary?  I let him. 

We had a grand afternoon.  We talked.  We laughed.  We got lost, which of course led to even more adventures and a round of giggles from me as he jumped up onto an old wooden bench and shouted, "Uptown One to Downtown One, where's the fucking LZ?  I need a drink!" 

I cracked up.  His eyes were sparkling with mirth as I hopped up next to him on the bench with a dramatic little flourish.  His eyes might have been glittering then - but Diary?  You should have seen the way they really glittered when I let it slip that I'd done competitive gymnastics for the better part of a decade. 

Dino made an exaggerated show of grabbing his chest and fell to the ground.  "One shot.  One kill.  You sure you're not Special Forces, honey?"

As fate would have it, Diary, before I could make a suitable retort, I caught my toe on a knot in the wood and stumbled very inelegantly to the ground.  Thankfully, I kept my feet, but it wasn't one of my better dismounts.  Cheeks flushing, I drew myself up straight and snapped his still-prone body a sharp salute.  "Private Grace, reporting for duty, sir."  Back on familiar footing once again, I flashed him a cheeky grin. 

He rose to his feet and gave me one of those lingering, full body looks.  His bearing shifted in an instant from playful companion to hardened soldier.  His eyebrow lifted in challenge.  "At ease, private."  He barked the words with military precision.   

Damn him.  Trumped again.  I made the required adjustment in position, knowing it would display a goodly bit of my cleavage.  Just to shine him on, I lifted my chin and held his unwavering stare for an impossibly long moment.  With an appreciative smile, he let his eyes wander slowly down my body... and he let me see him do it.  Sweet mother, Diary.  There was some heat in that look.  I shivered and felt my nipples tighten.  His eyes lingered there for just a moment before they came back up to mine and for the measure of a few heartbeats, we both simply stood there, staring.  The mood was finally broken when he ran his hand through his hair and chuckled.  "Jesus, honey.  Now I really do need that drink."   

Not soon after, we found ourselves at Pusser's Rum, a bar Dino said came very highly recommended.  The place had a great ambiance, very cozy.  We tried a few local drinks first but as the flirting began to heat up, Dino ordered us a bottle of wine instead.  It was a nice gesture, and Diary, I have to admit, I love it when a man takes charge like that. 

As the game of 'top this pick-up line' grew serious, I tried hard to keep up but between the wine and the way his fingers were stroking my palm, concentrating was difficult at best.  He was concentrating just as hard, but I think part of him was also wondering just how much more he'd need to push to throw me off my game.  My chair scraped across the rough floor as he pulled my seat right up to his and my breath caught as he brushed his finger over my lips. 

Even as the simple touch melted my insides, I couldn't help but wonder how many times he'd done this before.  He was very, very good, Diary.  Still, it didn't feel contrived.  Nothing about today had seemed contrived.  For either of us.  I think it surprised him a little.  And this time when our lips touched, it wasn't at all the sweet chaste kiss we'd shared earlier.  He pulled back just enough to search my eyes.  He got his answer.  Half a heartbeat later, he pressed back in, cupping my nape in his palm and drawing me forward into the kiss as I opened to him. 

Fire too long banked flared to life inside me and I couldn't help but respond as he gave me his tongue.  Instead of following his lead and invading his mouth, I enticed him deeper into my own and suckled him gently, just once.  Just enough to make his voice waver slightly when he pulled away to whisper in my ear.  I know he was still thinking about that little suck because when I touched his thigh I could feel his hips jerk slightly in the chair. 

"Dino!"

The sound of his name being shouted across the bar had us springing apart like naughty children.  Dino cursed under his breath in Spanish (funny how I don't have any trouble recalling those words, Diary) and he pasted on a smile as Ann and the others joined us at the table.  I hoped my blush wasn't too noticeable under my sun-pinked cheeks.  Sweet Jesus, Diary, the things that man can say with his eyes.  We exchanged furtive glances while the others regaled us with tales of their afternoon's adventure.  And mixed in with all of that, and with the odd warmth their presence stirred in me, was the strange sense of belonging.   

I wanted to meet Ann's Jack.  I wanted to meet the others they'd casually mentioned as well - Uma and Isobel and Tio and Hando and a whole slew of other names that I admit flew past me while Dino was making eyes at me across the table. 

And Jeff?  Good Lord, the resemblance was uncanny.  I'm crap with names, but faces?  Those I remember.  Despite the fact I could still taste Dino on my lips, I think my eyes spent just as much time on Jeff as they did on Dino.  And in between knowing glances with his lover, Jeff's eyes rested on me a goodly bit as well.  I had the strangest urge to just curl up in his lap and let him wrap those strong arms around me.  I know it's crazy, but, Diary?  I had the oddest sense of being safe with him. 

Despite the intimacy they'd interrupted, when Paul checked his watch and reminded the others of the ferry they needed to catch, I couldn't help but be a little disappointed.  I could have talked with them all night.  In any case, my disappointment didn't last too long.  On the walk back to the ferry, Dino invited me to dinner, and as he did, that uncomfortable notion that I was tempting fate came rushing back.

It made no sense, Diary.  None at all.  Why would I be so drawn to someone if being together was so utterly wrong?  Reminding myself I'd decided to make some changes in my life, I took a deep breath, ignored my doubts and accepted his invitation, covering my unease with a bit of playful teasing. 

Well, to be honest, I think it might have been more than a bit of teasing... When Jeff realized Dino wouldn't be joining them on the ferry, Ann tried to soothe his ruffled feathers with a comment about it being OK, that Dino was a 'big boy'.  That set-up was too good to resist and she blushed at the look I gave her.  See, Diary?  I tend to go a little overboard with the teasing when I'm nervous. 

Great.  Now she probably thought I was a tart.

It bothered me, Diary.  I liked her.  Here was a woman I'd probably never see again and it bothered me that she might think badly of me.  I guess I hadn't changed so much after all.  Still the goody two-shoes at heart, even while flirting with a handsome man in an island paradise.  God, how pathetic.  I felt the press of Dino's lean, muscled body at my back, felt his warm breath tickle my neck as we waved goodbye to his friends and I promised myself then that I wouldn't let my worry over what Dino's friends thought of me take away from our evening together.     

As it turned out, dinner was lovely.  We opted for one of the more casual places right on the waterfront, the kind of place where food is served on paper plates and you eat it with your fingers.  We shared another bottle of wine, his pick again, Diary. (Damn, I love that.)  It blunted the edges of my worry and the sense that although I was enjoying myself immensely, I was still doing something I oughtn't.  Over dessert (and yet more wine) the flirting heated up again.  We watched the sun sink below the horizon with my bare feet in his lap and his hands on my calves.     

We left the restaurant hand in hand, flushed with arousal and more than a little tipsy.  He stopped and kissed me where the path forked, and when he lifted his head, instead of leading me back towards the heart of town (and ultimately a bed, my conscience added spitefully) he pulled me down the trail that led to the beach.  At the edge of the sand, we stopped to remove our shoes and he kissed me again, this time pulling me tight against his larger, heavier frame to give me the full body press his eyes had promised earlier.   

When I shivered, he pulled back just enough to search my face.  "This ok?"  At my nod, he tenderly traced the shape of my face with his fingertips and tucked my hair behind my ear, leaving his hands there to brush my cheekbones with the warm, rough pads of his thumbs.  "I wanted...  Ever since I saw you at the rail... Jesus..."  He paused when he realize he was babbling and smiled down at me.  And, Diary?  I felt the heat in it all the way to my toes.  His next words were decisive.  "Under the stars, honey.  I wanted to kiss that fiery mouth of yours under the stars."  He gave my hand a squeeze.  "Walk with me?"

I nodded again.  Come on, who could resist such an enticingly sweet offer?

His palm was warm against mine and we only walked as far as was prudent before sinking into the warm sand.  Stubble under my fingertips.  Soft words, whispered in Spanish against my hair.  A mouth spiced with wine and languid hunger.  Strong hands with long fingers guiding me to move astride his lap.  

His breath hissed through his teeth.  "Hang on, honey."  Without embarrassment, his hand slipped between our bodies and into his pants to adjust himself before he moved his hands to my hips and settled my weight squarely over his erection as he drew me down for a kiss.  There was no urgency, no frantic pulling at my clothes - or his.  Just slow, wet kisses under the stars.  Kisses that grew steadily deeper and more amorous as the evening cooled and our passion warmed. 

I felt his fingers slip under the hem of my shirt to caress the satiny skin at the small of my back.  "Tan dulce... Dios mio, le deseo," he breathed.  "So sweet."  He pulled at my lips with little teasing kisses.  "Besa me.  Kiss me again like you did earlier.  In the bar."  I smiled against his mouth and this time when his tongue moved to taste me, I suckled it as I had before.  He made a masculine noise of pleasure deep in his throat and held me tightly against his lap as he rocked his hips against mine in time to the rhythm of our kiss.  His hands came up to cup my breasts and my head lolled back as his thumbs brushed over my nipples. 

He chuckled quietly at my breathy gasp when he rolled them between his fingertips.  "Como un sueño....  Jesus, honey, you feel like a dream."

My head lost to wine and pleasure, I spoke without thinking.  "I've dreamed of you.  This beach.  Your taste-"  Sweet Mother of God, Diary, in that moment the sense of portent washed over me like a wave dragging the sand from my very foundation.  The world tilted dangerously.  I pulled away from him gasping and more than a little embarrassed by what I'd just admitted.  He was going to think I was some kind of nut.  Hell, I was beginning to think I was some kind of nut.  Dino mumbled something under his breath that sounded a lot like 'fuck me swinging' and sat back a little as his hands fell away from my breasts.   

He took a deep breath and met my eyes.  "You feel it too, don't you?"  We both knew he wasn't talking about the hard length of flesh still trapped between our bodies. 

I nodded.  "Something...."  I waved my hand in the air, indicating to the horizon.  "I don't know, really... just this sense of..."  Words failed me. 

"Oh fuck."  He was shaking his head.  "This-" he made a motion with his hand, gesturing to the two of us, "this is not a good idea."  More embarrassed than ever now, I moved to get off his lap but his hands tightened on my arms, effectively halting my retreat.  "Whoa.  Whoa!  Wait a minute, honey.  I didn't mean it like that."  He gave me a lopsided smile. 

I was suddenly stone sober.  "What did you mean then?"

He sighed heavily.  "It's just this whole thing is too much like-"  He stopped himself abruptly, censoring whatever it was he'd just been about to say.  His eyes, usually glittering with so much amusement, became utterly serious.  "A few months back... there was a woman-"

Fuck, Diary, isn't there always?  And damn him if he didn't smile at the flash of heat in my eyes. 

He shrugged.  "I'm a soldier not a monk, hermana," he chided gently, smiling to soften the words.  "And it's not what you think."  Liar.  The look in his eyes said it was exactly what I thought it was.  "We spoke of dreams," he said finally, watching for my reaction.

My eyes widened as his words sunk in.  "You felt the..." I waved my hand toward the water again, knowing he'd get my meaning.

He nodded.  "I did."  He sighed again and hugged me a little tighter.  "I didn't listen to it then, hermana, and I should have.  It caused a lot of hard feelings between people I now consider family," he finished quietly.  For a long moment, there were no words, only the soft sound of the waves breaking on the beach.  He kissed me again, softly this time, and with finality.  Having had my own doubts right from the beginning, I was incredibly thankful.  I'd much rather remember my time with him fondly than with regret. 

When he lifted his head, that familiar twinkle was back in his eyes.  "It's a damned shame though, honey.  We'd have been so fucking good together."  He was right.  We would have.  I raised an eyebrow at him playfully.  "Don't give me that look, woman.  I've got a sense for these things."

Thankful he'd helped make a potentially awkward moment less so with his teasing, I laughed quietly and responded in kind.  "Developed your inner perve, have you?"

He gave me an odd, unreadable look and shook his head.  "God, the things you say, hermana."  I shot him a cheeky wink as we shifted positions, choosing one that was still intimate, but no longer openly sexual.  I sat in the space between his parted legs with my back against his chest and my head resting on his shoulder as we watched the waves chase each other in the starlight. 

He twirled a lock of my hair around his finger absently.  "I'll take you back to town if you like."  Both his tone and his body language suggested he'd much rather stay exactly where he was.

I was in complete agreement.  "I'd rather stay, if it's all the same to you."  Come on, Diary, how many times in your life do you get to spend a night like this?  From the moment I'd accepted his offer for dinner, he knew as well as I did that we'd share both the sunrise and breakfast before we parted.  It just wasn't going to happen quite the way either of us had expected.  Funny how life works out like that, isn't it, Diary?   

Sitting there, feet buried in sand that still carried the heat of the sun and sheltered in Dino's arms, we talked until the stars faded and the first pale streaks of dawn began to touch the sky.  He fell asleep then, just for a little while, his head pillowed on my stomach and his arm flung over me protectively.  Alone with my thoughts, as morning broke around us, words from an old song came unbidden to my mind.    

I walk to the horizon
and there I find another.

More fitting words could not be found to describe this time in my life.  I am not a wise woman, Diary, but I can tell you this much -  one chapter has closed on my life and another has begun in your pages.  I cannot say where it will go from here.  I do not know what I will find on this new horizon.  I can only share the journey with you until there are no more stories to tell.

And no more blank pages left to be filled.