Jamaica Dreaming (Caribbean Heat)

More than a year after surviving a horrific accident, Chicago songstress, Julissa Morgan, still hasn’t returned to the stage and her bills are piling up. When she’s offered a few gigs in Jamaica she’s tempted to say ‘no,’ but she needs the money and the concerts there might be a great way to test her readiness to launch a comeback in her home city. What Julissa doesn’t know is that Sebastian Chung, the wealthy benefactor footing the bill for the fundraising concerts, has an ulterior motive. Sebastian fell in love with the dark beauty after watching her perform and he’s determined to leave no stone unturned in his effort to have her. Julissa is engaged, however, and loyal to her man. Will Sebastian be able to win her away from her fiancé or will he and Julissa share only an ‘island’ romance?

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter F
ive

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Also by Eugenia O’Neal

“So, when will you meet him?” Deborah Jean’s voice squeaked with curiosity.

Julissa grinned. She knew her best friend was concerned about her but this was the real reason DJ had called. Deborah Jean, DJ to her friends, was Ruler–for–Life of Nosey Parker Land. “This evening. He’ll be at the concert.” She held the cellphone to her ear with one hand while she applied her lipstick with the other.

“Are you nervous?”

Julissa frowned at her reflection.
Was she?

“A little bit.”

“Girl, you’re gonna do just fine. He’s already a fan. You could probably go out there and croak and Mister Big Money would still think he got his money’s worth. And you know you’ve never croaked a day in your life. Your voice wouldn’t know how.”

Julissa’s voice – that was what had brought her here, to this hotel on the island of Jamaica, for three gigs in all. That was all Mister Big Money, real name Sebastian Chung, had asked for. Three gigs and, in return, her stay at Strawberry Hill was covered, she had an open tab at the hotel’s restaurants and she would leave the island $35,000 richer.

Not bad considering she hadn’t worked since The Event, known to everybody else as her accident. Three weeks after she’d posted her profile and a couple clips on the website, GigSalad, Chung had gotten in touch. Not directly. Mr. Big Money had gone through Hall and Nelson, a Chicago law firm, to make contact. That had thrown her off a little bit but she figured maybe he was trying to show he was on the up and up. Hall and Nelson had an excellent reputation and they didn’t come cheap which meant he had money, but Julissa still took a few days to make up her mind.

On the one hand, she thought a change of scenery could be just what she needed. Kathleen Wilson, her therapist, certainly thought so and had encouraged her to go when Julissa went for her weekly appointment and told her about the offer. But, on the other hand, it would mean Julissa would be far from her support team, her friends and family, and from Earle, of course. Earle, her fiancé. Earle was dead set against the trip. She suspected that was what tipped her in the end. That, and the money. Earle had become increasingly bossy recently and needed to realize putting a ring on it wasn’t meant to be the same as snapping on the shackles.

“You think you’re gonna be okay, right? I mean, on stage and everything?” Deej’s voice betrayed her worry.

“I’m fine.” This was the third time for the day Julissa was reassuring someone she was okay. First, her parents had called, then her brother, Jonathan, in England. Even Lori, the young woman, Chung had assigned to take her around and look after her had called, wanting to know how she’d slept and if everything was to her liking. Julissa assured her that everything was perfect and Lori had rung off, promising to pick her up in the evening. After that, Julissa left her phone behind and went for lunch at one of the hotel’s restaurants. Sated from the ceviche martini and grilled snapper, she’d dawdled over her lemon sorbet dessert, watching the other guests and reveling in the feeling of being far away from home, around people who’d never heard of her or heard about The Event.

When she could linger at the table no more, she got up and wandered around the hotel grounds for a couple hours, sitting first by the pool and then on a bench where she could see Kingston, the island’s capital, in the distance. She checked out the meditation deck and sauntered over to where the nature trails started. The trails led into the hills but she’d been warned not to take them without a guide as it was easy to get lost.

When Julissa returned to her cottage and her cellphone, she’d seen five missed calls. Two from Earle, one from her cousin, Shevonne, and two from a number she didn’t recognize. She was just about to call Shevonne back when the distinctive notes of Cindi Lauper’s “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” announced
Deborah Jean calling
.

“I still think you should have let someone come with you, though,” Deej said, now. “Me or Earle or…someone.”

“Everything’s all right, DJ, stop worrying. You guys are only a phone call away, anyway. I’m not in Timbuctoo.”

“Yeah, but if, at least, Earle was there, you wouldn’t be surrounded by complete strangers.”

“He called last night and I told him just what I’m telling you, I’m fine. The hotel’s beautiful, the island’s gorgeous. Everything’s fine. I’m not Rachel Marron and I don’t need Earle doing a Frank Farmer number around me.” She’d seen
The Bodyguard
at least six times after she discovered it among her mom’s DVD collection when she was in her teens. It was still one of her favorite movies.

“Aw, come off it. You know you love it when Earle comes over all manly a la Kevin Costner. The man adores you.”

Julissa didn’t answer. Her throat tightened in a way that had become all too familiar. She turned away from the mirror and walked into the bedroom.  She felt slightly lightheaded. 
No,
she whispered pleadingly in her mind.
Please, not now
.

“I’ve got to go, Deej. The girl I told you about, Lori, will be coming for me any minute.” It was a struggle to keep her voice even.

“Okay, all right, I know you don’t need me nagging you right now, but I’ve got your back, woman. I’m just trying to look out for you.”

“I know you are, Deej. I know. Love ya.”

“Love ya, too. Break a leg!”

“I’ll do my best.”

She had just put the phone down when Rihanna’s “We Found Love” rang out.
Earle Wilson calling
. Julissa gripped the phone. She should answer, but she just didn’t have the energy. If people were going to be calling her every couple minutes, she might as well tell them to book their airline tickets and done with it!

The song grated on her nerves. She kept meaning to change it to something by Sade maybe, or Ella, or one of the newer singers like Melanie Amaro, but she hadn’t gotten around to it. She put the phone down and walked out onto the porch of her hillside cottage. A thickly cushioned wicker couch to her left invited her to put her feet up, relax and take a nap, but she didn’t have time for that. Her first Jamaican gig was just an hour away.

On either side of the cottage, lush vegetation whispered in the wind and birds twittered just out of sight. Kingston sprawled in the distance and, beyond it, the sparkling sea glowed gold with the light of the setting sun. In the cottage, Rihanna kept singing and the knots in Julissa’s stomach tightened viciously.
No, please
, she murmured. But it was coming, she could feel it gathering itself deep within her mind.

Julissa took several deep breaths. Her hands gripped the verandah railing as perspiration beaded her face. She wanted to believe it was the tropical heat, but she knew it wasn’t. The heat wouldn’t explain her suddenly pounding heart. A sense of dread enveloped her like a heavy cloak. She took another deep breath and felt like she was going to pass out. She dragged herself to the wicker couch, sat carefully down and slid slowly, slowly, sideways, curling herself into a ball. Hot tears wet her cheeks. The mountains and the clouds spun, a dizzying whirl of green and grey. She fought to remember Kathleen’s advice.
Breathe deeply and concentrate on your breathing. Remember the attack will pass. You’ll come out of it on the other side. Breathe. Relax your muscles.
Julissa closed her eyes but she was losing it, she knew she was losing it. She pressed her clasped fists to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut.  She wanted to pray but her thoughts were so jumbled up.
Help me, Father, I’m dying. Help me! I can’t breathe! I can’t….
She heard herself scream and clenched her jaws shut.
No.
Somebody would come.
No people.
She didn’t want anyone to see her like this. Julissa shuddered and wept. The anxiety attacks she’d run from had followed her to the island.

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the spinning sensation left her, and the fear. Her heart rate returned to normal. Julissa uncurled herself from the couch and sat up, feeling spent. She stared blankly at the distant grey clouds towering over the glinting sea as the sun sank into the hills behind her.

The cool wind caressed Julissa’s face. She thought she could sit there and watch the view forever, without moving or having to go anywhere or do anything. No gigs, no events. One of the restaurants could deliver all her meals and she would spend all her days on the porch. Every now and then she’d take a long walk just so she could still fit into the clothes she’d brought. Maybe all she really needed to free herself from the panic attacks was a good, long rest.

The idea that she might have an attack while she was on stage made her queasy. Not today, she rarely had two on the same day, but during next week’s concert, or the one after that. If she let Mr. Big Money down, she’d never forgive herself.

Julissa had demanded a fifty percent deposit, instead of the usual thirty, half–hoping Sebastian Chung would bow out and half–dreading it at the same time. The lawyers arranged a bank transfer the next day. Julissa paid off some of her medical bills and bought herself a new wardrobe, including the kinds of things she imagined one wore to posh–looking resorts like the one pictured in the packet the lawyers sent her. The packet included her round–trip ticket and information about the Ananda Alert system and about the organization on whose behalf the fundraising concerts were being held. A $500 gift certificate to the hotel spa was also included along with a handwritten note,
Looking forward to your performances, Sebastian
.

Julissa had looked at the firm, elegant writing and tried to imagine the writer. Was he Chinese? Probably, with a name like that, but what was he doing in Jamaica? Was he Jamaican? She’d met a couple of Jamaicans and she knew about reggae and Bob Marley but Chinese Jamaicans were new to her.

Sebastian Chung could have chosen anyone, but he’d picked her. Why? When she’d asked the lawyers, discreetly because she didn’t want them to think she wasn’t worth the fees he was offering her, the most they would say was that their client had seen her perform at a club in the city and become a fan. That meant he’d seen her before The Event because she hadn’t performed since. Just having her profile back up on GigSalad had caused her so much anxiety she’d almost deleted it again. Several of Chicago’s jazz hotspots had called her but she’d turned everything down until Hall and Nelson got in touch. She’d see how things went in Jamaica before taking on any gigs in her home city.