Page 47 of Last Ticket to Paradise

He settled on the sofa in front of his tray, his file folders and spreadsheets on the table next to his food.

For the next few hours, he ate and worked, leaving the wine untouched. He still planned to make a late-night visit to Jean-Claude’sfare, and he wanted a clear head for the assignment.

He put his work aside, showered and dressed in a pair of black gym shorts. He paired them with a black T-shirt—might as well blend in with the night as much as possible.

He stuffed a small flashlight in the zippered pocket of his shorts, along with the master keycard, and slipped out of his suite.

He had to pass by the pool to get to the path that led to the beach and thefares, so he took the walkway farthest from the bar and the hot tub, where most people gathered afterhours.

Including Georgette. He nearly stumbled over a tree root when he spied her sitting on the edge of the hot tub, dangling her feet in the bubbling water. Her laugh bubbled along with the water as some asshole rubbed her back, bare in her halter dress.

He hunched his shoulders and continued down the pathway. She had her mission, and he had his.

The tide was starting to come in, so Jake had to slosh through fast-rising, ankle-deep water to get to Jean-Claude’s bungalow. He climbed the steps to the room and slid the key in the slot. He eased open the door and clicked on his flashlight.

The bungalows at Palumba Falls didn’t feature electricity, but each room contained a kerosene lamp. These rooms attracted mostly honeymooners who craved the isolation, or guests who enjoyed diving or snorkeling in Palumba’s crystal-clear waters. Thefaresalso suited tourists who, like Jean-Claude, spent most of their nights in the bar or in the clubs at other hotels.

Jake swept his flashlight across Jean-Claude’s belongings, still packed up in his suitcases. He must’ve checked in, dropped his stuff, and headed for the bar—and Georgette. Who had told Jean-Claude about Georgette and her relationship to Jamie?

He crouched in front of the biggest suitcase, which Jean-Claude had left gaping open. As he ran his hands through the expensive clothes, a splashing noise from outside had him springing upright and spinning toward the door.

He’d left his weapon securely locked in his room’s safe—wasn’t doing him much good now.

Someone pushed against the locked door and then sighed. “Jake?”

He lunged forward and yanked open the door, pulling Georgette inside the room. “Did you follow me?”

“I confess.” She held up her fingers in a peace sign. “I did. I had the same idea myself, so when I caught a glimpse of you hightailing it down that walkway to the beach, I figured out your destination.”

“And you thought it was a good idea to search through the personal belongings of someone who may have been attacked for setting up a meeting with you?”

“Well, yes.” She pointed her phone, its flashlight beaming, at the suitcase open on the floor. “Looks like you already started with that one, so I’ll take a peek in his carry-on.”

He grunted. “Did you get tired of having your back rubbed?”

Her head jerked up. “You saw that?”

“I see everything—when it comes to you.”

“I think you see everything, period.” She flicked her loose hair over her shoulder. “I have to play the part, keep my reputation heading in its downward spiral.”

“It’s a dangerous game, Georgette, and I’m not sure it’s going to get you anywhere.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” she batted her mascared lashes at him, “but I sort of told everyone about our coitus interruptus.”

“You what?” His fists bunched into some silky material in Jean-Claude’s bag.

“Don’t worry. I don’t think anyone really believed me.” She dipped her head to the bag on the bed as she clawed through it. “You had quite the reputation at one time with the ladies, but it seems you’ve become almost monk-like in the past year or so. Let’s just say I saw skepticism in their faces.”

“I should hope so.” He shook his head. “You’re taking this too far.”

“Although I did garner the female attention at the table when I reported how,” she cleared her throat, “well-endowed you were.”

He tossed a handful of Jean-Claude’s clothing at her, showering her back with the fine materials. He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut. He’d been about to tell her how she was becoming more and more like her sister every day, but Georgette wouldn’t appreciate that.

Giggling, she cranked her head over her shoulder and winked at him. “You should’ve seen their faces.”

He shook his finger at her. “I never thought you were the type to kiss and tell.”

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