Chapter Thirteen

Ryan reached for her, but he was too slow, and Amara sank to the wooden dance floor with a thud. The crowd released a collective gasp, which was joined by Ryan’s own cry for help. A cliché proved to be true as everything around him appeared to be in slow motion.

Jasper rushed toward him from off-stage, Amara’s silver purse in his hand. He held it out toward Ryan.

“Her glucose is in here. You have to give it to her,” he commanded.

Ryan stared blankly at the purse. Glucose? Give her glucose?

Jasper wrenched the purse open and extracted a red, hard plastic case about six inches long. “Here,” he said, thrusting the case into Ryan’s hands. “You have to give her the shot.”

Ryan stared at the object in his hand, turned it over, then fumbled with it before getting the catch to release. Inside he saw a small vial, a syringe and a piece of folded paper, which he could only presume was a set of instructions.

He unfolded the paper, hoping against hope it contained photo directions. Instead, he was faced with rows and rows of tiny print.

“Go ahead,” Jasper screeched. “Give it to her. Give her the shot.”

“I…you…” Ryan stammered, holding the kit out toward Jasper.

In the haze of panic and confusion, Ace’s voice boomed over the PA system. Ryan recognized who it was, but the words were a jumble. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, praying that when he opened them he could miraculously read the words on the paper.

But before he could open his eyes and see if his prayers had been answered, he sensed someone by his side.

“Thank goodness,” Jasper said. Relief was evident in his tone.

A woman wearing a spangled costume knelt beside Ryan. He recognized her as one of the dance contestants. She had competed right before Jasper and Libby.

“I’m Dr. Austin. Since you’re holding a glucose pen, I imagine her blood sugar is too low. Let me have that.”

She took the case from Ryan and with swift efficiency, prepared the syringe and stabbed it into Amara’s thigh. Ryan heard Ace’s voice again, assuring the crowd that all was under control and Miss Perez would be fine.

Ryan hoped that was true since the secret he had worked so hard to conceal had delayed treatment.

***

Amara opened her eyes, then closed them again. The overhead light hurt her eyes. Voices sounded from nearby. Jasper, an unknown female, Ryan.

The contest. She sat straight up and saw she was in a small room with sparse furnishings.

“Whoa there. Take it easy,” the woman said, moving to Amara’s side.

“The contest,” Amara began, trying to swing her legs over the side of the table. “What about the contest? We need to do our routine. I have to dance.”

“You finished your dance and then collapsed. I’m Dr. Melinda Austin, one of the other contestants. I gave you the glucose injection from your purse, and Mr. Kidd carried you here.”

“Where’s here?” She glanced further around the room and spotted a wall with cabinets, a row of bottles and jars on a counter and scenes of nature adorning the walls.

“The spa. The owner was kind enough to open up for us to bring you here. How do you feel?”

Weak. Wrung out. Like she’d been hit by a speeding car.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh, honey, you are so not fine.” Jasper stood in the doorway, his face as white as the sheet beneath her. “You scared me to pieces. Thank goodness this doctor was in the house. Here, drink this.” He moved to her side and held a cup of juice to her lips. She sipped carefully before lying back down.

“Who won the contest?” she asked no one in particular. Surely not her, though, since a full-out faint was no way to impress the judges.

“We don’t know yet.” Ryan’s voice came from behind her. “They made the decision to postpone announcing the winners when the good doctor here said you should be able to go back to the beach if you take it easy.”

“And I don’t want to rush you in any way, sweetie, but the resort is serving free drinks during this little intermission.” Jasper made quotation marks with his fingers when he said the last word. “I do not want it said that Allegro helped bankrupt Casa Blanca Resort & Spa.”

Dr. Austin let out a snort. “It’ll take a lot more than drinks for two hundred people to bankrupt this place.”

“Two hundred?” Ryan said. “I was paying attention to my feet and then to my fainting partner, but it sounded more like two thousand.”

“It’s a small, but well-heeled crowd,” the doctor continued. “And every one of them paid a thousand dollars to watch the contest. That, and the sponsorship from the resort and the Ritz in Naples is how they can give away such generous prize money and donate to Dr. Bradbury’s clinic.”

Ten thousand dollars, and Amara still hoped to claim half of it.

Thirty minutes later, Ryan and Jasper escorted Amara back to the beach and to a ringside seat right beside the Beckers, Ivorys and Nicholases. She saw Ryan nod to the couples and then remembered they were the joint owners of the Barefoot Bay Bucks. Of course he would acknowledge them.

“And our tango team has returned,” Ace announced to the crowd. “Let’s give the lovely lady a round of applause, folks.”

A wave of heat rushed up Amara’s face, and she hoped the dim light hid it from view. She waved to show her appreciation for their concern.

The lights dimmed further, save for one spotlight on the center of the dance floor.

“Before I announce the dance winner, here are the results for the Twitter campaign. Thanks to the efforts of all contestants, the Dancing on the Sand hashtag exceeded expectations and was retweeted around the country.

“Our winner, who received more than double the number of votes of the next competitor, staged a well thought out campaign with steady activity, not that the other contestants didn’t make an effort, some with uh…interesting methods.

“So without further ado, the winner is Ryan Kidd. Stand up and take a bow, Whiz,” Ace said excitedly. “The prize is seventy-five hundred dollars to be donated to the charity or charities of his choice.”

Ryan stood and waved.

“Congratulations,” Amara said. “Charity Grambling will be glad to know her favorite contestant won. She thinks you’re hot stuff, by the way.”

Ryan rolled his eyes in response. “Don’t get me started about her and her sister—”

“And now for the results for which all of you so patiently waited,” Ace continued, interrupting him. “Our second runners-up will receive a very generous gift card from Casa Blanca’s award-winning restaurant, Junonia. And they are…” Ace paused for effect before continuing. “Ebonie Weaver and her dance partner, Doug Hoffman. Come to center stage, you kids.”

It didn’t matter that Doug sported a head full of silver hair and the program had listed Ebonie as partner in a prestigious Tampa law firm. Only Ace seemed to think they were kids.

The couple came into view, and Lacey Walker, who along with her husband Clay, owned the resort, handed each of them a large envelope.

“Give them a big round of applause, folks. Wasn’t their waltz amazing?”

The crowd complied, and the couple waved, then repeated the opening few steps of their routine.

“And the first runners-up and winners of gift cards from Junonia and Eucalyptus as well as a two-night stay at Casa Blanca are…”

Amara held her breath and willed the man not to say her name. Say any other name, she thought. Jasper Vonderleith. Tiffany Jones. Glynnis—

“Ryan Kidd and Amara Perez,” Ace announced with flair. “Are you able to come to the stage, Amara?”

Disappointment settled onto her like the marine fog that often blanketed the island in early morning. They had been perfect. Surely better than Glynnis and Nino Rossi, the only couple besides Jasper and Libby that she had seen dance. She wanted to shake her head that no, she couldn’t leave the comfort of her ringside hideout. But not wanting to appear a sore loser, she stood and leaned on Ryan’s arm as he led them toward the floor.

“You were robbed,” Jasper whispered as she passed him. “Robbed.”

Easy for him to say since he’d probably just won.

“Congratulations,” Lacey said as she handed each of them their prize. Amara could see the Casa Blanca Resort & Spa logo on the heavy linen envelope. “Call the resort any time and schedule your stay,” Lacey continued. “There are no restrictions.”

Ryan beamed as he accepted his prize. He probably hadn’t expected to do this well. He waved, then smiled at Amara.

“We did good, huh?” he asked with the enthusiasm of a toddler on Christmas Day.

“And now the announcement you’ve all been waiting for. The grand prize winners, each taking home a week-long stay at Casa Blanca Resort & Spa complete with spa treatments and dinner each night at Junonia plus a cash prize of five thousand dollars each are…”

Amara didn’t want to know. Didn’t care who won. Her inner petulant child wanted to stomp her foot and whine that it wasn’t fair. She wouldn’t do that, though. Aside from making herself look ridiculous, that sort of behavior wouldn’t reflect well on Allegro, and she wouldn’t do that to Jasper.

“…Nino Rossi and Glynnis Chappell Wells.” Ace inflected the words as if he were announcing a grand-slam homerun.

Nino jogged onto the stage with Glynnis in tow. He reprised his boxer’s victory salute, then hugged Glynnis.

Amara felt Ryan’s elbow in her side.

“Well, that sucks majorly,” he whispered against her ear. “He lives here and from what I’ve heard, he cooks as well as the chef at the restaurant. I guess it’s a treat for Glynnis, though. And I told you we couldn’t compete with that schmaltz.”

She kept the smile plastered on her face and refrained from answering him. Yes, it sucked majorly because that schmaltz had cost the literacy center a lot of money.

But next time – if there was a next time – she would make sure the routine had an entertainment factor.

***

Amara changed back into the linen pants and tunic she had worn to the resort and packed her dance costume and shoes in her tote. Carefully holding onto the wrought iron railing, she descended the stairs and made her way to Bay Laurel’s sumptuous living room. She made a mental note to thank the Beckers again for their hospitality. Having the villa prior to the competition had been convenient; having it after her collapse had been a godsend.

She still didn’t remember much about what had happened, and had relied on Jasper’s overly excited account of the event to piece together the story. She had returned to the villa immediately after the winners were announced and taken a brief nap. Ryan had insisted she go to the emergency room, but she’d refused. Dr. Austin had agreed it wasn’t necessary since there was little they could do for her.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Ryan was waiting for her. He had changed from his suit and tie into faded jeans and a Bucks tee shirt that stretched across his chest and accentuated his strong arms. Strong arms that had carried her from the spa to the beach, and then back to the villa. Carried her while she protested all the way that she was perfectly capable of walking under her own steam.

“It’s time to use that blood test thingy again. I still wish you’d let me take you to the emergency room.” He moved to her side and held out a glass of orange juice.

She dumped her tote bag and purse on the sofa and took the juice. “I tested upstairs and I’m fine. And I don’t need to clutter up the ER on a Saturday night. You heard the doctor. Besides, I told you I’ve dealt with this since I was a child, and I’m fine.”

“You collapsed right in front of me. I’d say that’s anything but fine.”

“Jasper said you froze,” she stated bluntly.

“Don’t change the damned subject.”

“Who’s changing the subject? If that doctor hadn’t been there to inject me, we could be talking about more than the emergency room now. It could have been very serious.” She could have died had no one been there to inject her. As it was, there had been a doctor in the house and now she was okay. Or as okay as she could be all things considered. Her thigh ached from the thick substance that had been injected into it, but she had learned long ago that was a small price to pay.

“I know. Jasper made that painfully clear as he was screeching at me to stab that needle into you. Why didn’t you tell me you were diabetic?” The accusatory tone in his voice was evident.

“I didn’t think it was necessary. It’s not who I am. I try not to let it define me. I don’t dwell on it.”

“Maybe you don’t, but it damn well slammed me between the eyes tonight. The doctor said the exertion and excitement of the contest was probably what caused you to collapse. Do you have any idea how frightening that was?”

Amara forced a laugh. “I believe I do. I was the one doing the collapsing.” She pulled her cell phone from her bag and tapped the screen to life. “I texted the valet to call a taxi. I don’t want to drive quite yet. I’m all right, but you know, just in case.”

Silently she hoped Ryan would offer to drive her home. Walk her to the door again. Pull her into his arms again. Kiss her senseless again. He wasn’t a client any longer. They could take things to the next level with no worries.

“You’re changing the subject again, Amara. Why didn’t Jasper give you the injection? He seemed to know about your diabetes and what to do if…that happened.”

Amara shook her head. “Jasper? Give me an injection? The man faints at the mere thought of a needle. I’m surprised Dr. Austin didn’t have to revive him if he was there when she injected me.” She took three steps and placed a hand on Ryan’s arm. “I’m not blaming you for anything. You were caught off guard. It could happen to anyone.”

Her phone dinged with an incoming text. “My taxi is here,” she said after checking the screen. “You know, I think I’ll have the driver drop me at the Causeway Café. I’m getting hungry and don’t feel like cooking. They have breakfast twenty-four hours a day.”

Again, she let herself hope. Hope he would say that bacon and eggs sounded like a great idea and there was no need for a taxi because he would drive her to the café, join her for a late dinner and drive her home. Every part of her ached for him.

“That’s a good idea. The doctor said you probably should eat a square meal. And the Causeway Café is good. They usually have pretty good specials late at night.”

Her phone dinged again. “I guess I’d better go. So…” She tried not to react visibly to the disappointment of Ryan not wanting to be around her. She should be used to it by now. Other people had shied away from her when they learned she was diabetic. Parents wouldn’t let their children play with her. Friends had disappeared. Dates never called back. And that was one reason she didn’t broadcast it.

Amara stuffed her purse into the tote and slung it over one shoulder. “Well, okay then,” she said when she reached the front door. “Good-bye.”

“Amara?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. Hope flooded her heart.

Ryan stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “Bye.”

Amara held her tears at bay until she was safely outside. She swiped at them with one hand as she made her way to the waiting taxi and thought of all the things she should have, could have said.

It was too late now. And the finality to their last words was all too palpable.