Dear Jason –

                        It was a lovely crazy weekend, a crazy week.  Asl the stress with the layoffs, the weather, and to top it off, my silly car.  I woke early and decided to so something about the car.  You know me, I've taken advantage of you enough, as it is.  Don't worry!  I'll have it fixed before you even crawl out of bed this monring.  (Thank Goodness for Wal*mart).  

                                                                                                            Cay

 

            Jason folded the note and slipped it back into the envelope, sure the front desk clerk and the concierge were watching his every facial expression.  He couldn’t believe it.  She’d left him a “Dear John” letter.  Okay, maybe it wasn’t “Dear John”; but it did say “Dear Jason.”  And it stung. 

            Nodding politely to the hotel personnel he made his way as quickly as possible to his room so he could pack up his few belongings (two t-shirts that didn’t really fit), and check out as dignified and swiftly as possible.  He checked out from his room, via the new TV menu system.

 

            When Cayla got back to the parking lot from her desk, a gruff man from Triple A was leaning against her car, jumper cables in hand.  Sure enough the car had just needed that little extra oomph and started right up.  She let it warm up for ten minutes before heading toward home.  She’d get the battery serviced on Monday. 

            Cayla walked in her small home dropping the keys, her purse and bag from the Marriott on a small end table next to the front door.  She turned up the heat, watered the plants, checked the phone messages (none from Jason), started the laundry and put water to heat for tea. 

She was glad to be home but now she had other plans to put into motion.  It sure was a nuisance when something uncomfortable happened with someone you worked with and you cared for.  Whatever!  She needed a vacation anyway.  Someplace warm.  She knew she needed to give Jason a call, but what was she going to say to him?  Sorry, you  didn’t kiss me?  Sorry it would have been the hottest thing that’s happened to me since – well, since, never?  Forget it, she would send him an email.  In the meantime, she booted up her computer to check out tropical vacations on www.travelcaribbean.com.

            Ah, the perfect vacation – Grand Cayman.  Departs:  Tuesday, 7:15 am on United Airlines; Returns: Sunday, 9:50 pm.  Price: $1039.00 includes air, hotel and taxes.  Why not?  What else had she been saving her money for?  She would have one whole day to get a new battery, call her mother and take care of any other last minute things she hadn’t thought of yet.  She already had her passport and with her two new summer dresses, flip-flops and swimsuit she’d bought at the Marriott gift shop she was practically packed.  What more did she need?

            One click of the mouse and her tickets were bought.  Another click had the itinerary printing.  She’d send the email later.  One hot bath and her favorite lounging, thermal pajamas coming up.

 

            By the time Jason had eaten breakfast, went on a search through the hotel for Cayla (indiscreetly, of course), in the restaurant, the pool area, the workout room (just in case), finally stopping at the front desk to see if she’d left a message for him (where they’d handed him Marriott’s company printed envelope), read her note, rushed back to his room to pick up his things and checked out – it was close to noon. 

The Marriott parking lot left a lot to be desired as far as walking conditions went.  Guess they couldn’t spare the salt.  Halfway to his car, his feet flew out from under him and he landed, as luck would have it, on his behind.  Perfect.  What else?  No telling where she was. 

He supposed she would try to get her car first, so with great care he drove to the office.  He was pleased to see the Kansas City street crews were on top of the icy street situation, as the traction on his pampered Porsche made it without any undue problems. 

The west parking lot was almost empty.  Jason supposed the three parked cars belonged to computer operations and technical support persons who were required to work nights and weekends.  It was no surprise to see her car already gone.  He sat there for a moment trying to assess the situation logically (because that’s what men did).

He thought back to their pre-violent gin rummy game.  He had to admit she was definitely annoyed with the way the game had gone, but she wasn’t that big of a sore loser.  True, things took a turn for the unnerving when she’d ended up pinned beneath him.  She hadn’t planned that, but half a minute later she’d quit fighting.  He hadn’t kissed her, so she couldn’t be mad about that.  She probably just needed some time to think things over.  Yeah, that’s all it was.  She just needed time.

He’s the one who should be upset and frustrated – just thinking about her flashing gold-brown eyes and how she’d tasted on the tip of his tongue, the heat of her skin, the swell of her….  It brought a warmth to his face, and other areas he didn’t want to even thing about.  If he wasn’t careful his ‘want’ was going to be slapping him painfully in his gut again real quick.  He decided to take her at her word.  Her note said she would call later.  And didn’t that just reassure a red-blooded, American guy.