Right Place, Wrong Time by Judith Arnold

resentment, not anger, not frustration. Definitely not lust. Not tonight.
    The only light in the condo came from the recessed ceiling spotlight in the hallway leading to the bedrooms. Gina and Alicia’s door was closed, and as soon as Kim entered the master bedroom, she closed the door, too. Was she expecting Ethan to sleep on the couch? Forget that. If she didn’t want to share a bed with him, she could sleep on the couch.
    He stared at the closed door for a minute, then stalked through the living room toward the kitchen, deciding to do his thinking on the terrace, armed with a cold beer. Halfway to the kitchen he paused, aware of a silhouette on the terrace, visible through the sliding-glass doors. He moved closer and realized Gina was sitting on one of the molded plastic chairs, staring out at the beach and the ocean beyond it, and the night-dark sky above.
    He should have been annoyed by the realization that women were occupying every decent think-things-over locale in the condo. But far from annoyed, he felt a twinge of anticipation. He could think things over in Gina’s company if he had to. Maybe he could even talk to her in a way he couldn’t talk to Kim. If his buddy Paul were around, Ethan could bounce his thoughts off him. But here in St. Thomas, miles from home, he was friendless.
    Perhaps Gina could be a friend.
    He continued to the kitchen and pulled two beers out of the fridge.
     
    A COOL , constant breeze rose off the water and drifted up to the balcony, soothing Gina as effectively as a full-body massage. She had tucked Alicia into bed a while ago, told her a story about a fish that owned magical reverse-snorkel gear that enabled it to swim in the air, and sat with her until she fell asleep. But it was only ten, and Gina wasn’t ready to go to sleep herself yet. She was physically tired but mentally wide-awake.
    So she’d settled herself on the balcony. She didn’t need a book or a TV show to entertain her. The velvety night sky, lit with stars and a hazy half-moon, and the rhythmic whisper of the wind through the palms, and the salty-sweet smell of the sea were better than any sitcom or HBO movie.
    St. Thomas was glorious. Compared with New York it was so peaceful, so tranquil. No car horns, no crazy people shouting on street corners or sitting on stoops and bickering, no buses rumbling down Seventh Avenue or delivery guys on bicycles zipping along the sidewalk, scattering the pedestrians. No sour smells of auto exhaust, no gusts of searing heat blasting up through the subway vents, no flattened cigarette butts and scraps of trash lining the sidewalks. She loved the city, loved its noise and energy and humanity—but man, she’d developed a whopping crush on this serene tropical island.
    She leaned back in her chair and propped her bare feet up on the terrace railing. The wind ruffled her hair and she sighed contentedly. No heartbroken sister in St. Thomas, she thought. No schmuck of a brother-in-law.No infidelity, no divorce. That whole mess was a thousand miles away.
    She recalled Alicia’s innocent question their first evening here: “Can we stay forever?” If only.
    She heard the rattle of a door behind her, a squeak as it slid open. So much for peace and tranquillity, she thought, bracing herself for the invasion of Ethan and Kim. Glancing over her shoulder, however, she saw that Ethan was alone.
    Well, not technically. He was accompanied by two bottles of beer, one of which he extended toward her. “Mind if I join you?” he asked.
    She didn’t have the right to mind. The terrace, like the rest of the condo, was shared territory. But since he’d come bearing the gift of beer, and he had such an endearingly tentative smile, and his hair looked so soft as the breeze fluttered through it…“Make yourself comfortable,” she said, gesturing toward the chair beside her.
    Ethan lowered himself into the chair and handed her the bottle, which was icy, fresh from the refrigerator. He had on