James was easily a man in his late fifties, his face slightly wrinkled with warm green eyes and salt and pepper hair. He had a warm expression on his face, a kind smile that comforted me, and an air of elegance to him.
"Good morning, Miss Blake." His warm voice flowed over me as I walked along the decking to the car.
"Good morning, James." I smiled warmly, taking an instant liking to him.
"If I may say, Miss Blake, you look very beautiful this fine Carribean morning." And this caused me to laugh. The twinkle in his eye sparkled with good humor and not a shred of perviness. It was just a simple gesture that made me feel a million times better about myself than I had for a very long time.
I can't recall the last time a man had called me beautiful. Or even pretty, for that matter.
"It's
