Page 57 of Last Ticket to Paradise

They finally fell asleep, exhausted and satiated, their limbs entangled, still joined together. As Jake wrapped his arms around Georgette, he had one thought: He never wanted to let this woman go.

***

Georgette woke with a start, her heart rattling her rib cage. Her eyelids flew open, and she scooted up against the headboard. Her fists curled into the white sheets as she took in the empty space beside her.

The heavy drapes didn’t allow a peep of sunshine into the room, so she reached for the clock on the nightstand to peer at the blurry numbers. She groaned and said, “One o’clock.”

She didn’t need the clock to tell her it was p.m. and not a.m. She’d spent the wee hours of the morning getting to know Jake—intimately. She drew up the covers to her hot face as the memories flooded her brain.

It had all started in the shower, or maybe the Jacuzzi...or maybe it started the first time she laid eyes on Jake on the airplane. She couldn’t help herself. She’d opened herself to him in all ways possible, had even come clean about her insecurities about being the dull twin.

Had he used those confessions to take advantage of her? Had he subtly challenged her to keep up with Jamie? If Jamie’s intimate encounters with all of her men mirrored Georgette’s experience with Jake, she could understand why her sister went through relationships like tissues.

But this hadn’t been Georgette’s first sexual experience, and the other two hadn’t resembled this one in the least. To be fair to Brice, she’d never made herself, her body, available to him as she’d done with Jake. Brice probably wouldn’t have known what to do with her anyway.

Sighing, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, sending a slip of hotel note paper fluttering to the floor. She scooped up the note and read it aloud. “‘Had to get back to work. After you order room service and get dressed, we’ll pay a visit to Hallie’s family.’”

She’d almost forgotten about Jamie’s disappearance, Jean-Claude’s accident, the Molotov cocktail tossed into his bungalow. Almost. Her gaze tracked to the wrinkled postcard.

By the time she’d showered and dressed, her breakfast had arrived. If her presence in the boss’ hotel suite surprised the room service waiter, he hid it well behind a pleasant smile and discreet manner.

She didn’t do the offering of colorful fruit justice, popping a few slices of guava into her mouth and grabbing her coffee cup to go. Her sandals slapped the tile steps as she jogged down the short flight of stairs.

“I’m not doing it!” As the angry male voice rose, she slowed and took the turn on the stairs gingerly just in time to see a dark-haired man striding around the corner.

She almost collided with Gunther at the bottom of the stairs.

“Whoa.” She held her cup away from her as the liquid sloshed over the rim. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone to be lurking in the hallways here.”

“I never lurk, my dear.” His color high, Gunther dabbed at a nonexistent spot on his white shirt. “And why wouldn’t you expect me? My room is in this wing.”

“Oh, I didn’t realize anyone else had rooms here except Jake.”

“He stashes some of the long-term old-timers in this building.” Gunther winked. “Don’t worry. Nobody else saw...or heard you two last night.”

Georgette fought the heat that threatened to rise from her chest to her face. Notorious flirts and femme fatales did not blush. She’d never seen Jamie blush in her life—not even when Georgette had caught her with Brice.

She flicked her hair off her shoulder. “I’m surprised nobody heard us. See you later at your birthday dinner.”

She squeezed past Gunther and the speculative look in his eyes and strode toward the pool. If it got around that she’d snagged the biggest fish at the resort, all the better for her image. The full moon would make its appearance in two days, and the Palarosa gods would need another fallen woman to satiate their appetites. Why not her?

Sipping her coffee, she waved to a couple of her admirers on her way to Jake’s office. If Linda had told her she’d be the hottest item at the Palumba Falls, she’d have laughed hysterically.

Georgette’s lips twitched. Itwaspretty funny—if it weren’t also deadly serious.

She tapped one knuckle against Jake’s door. “It’s Georgette.”

The wheels of his chair squealed, and then he appeared at the open door, his long hair tousled and his eyes heavy-lidded.

She almost pinched her arm to make herself believe she’d tangled in the sheets all night with this gorgeous man.

“You look tired.” She started to reach out for him and then dropped her hand as he flinched. They’d had sex yesterday. Didn’t mean they were going steady. She crossed her arms over her stomach, where a thousand knots had just formed.

“Any wonder why?” He rubbed his eyes as his lips twisted, but not in a smile. “I went out to Jean-Claude’s bungalow this morning, or what’s left of it, to clean up any evidence of the Molotov cocktail.”

“Y-you don’t want the police to know someone deliberately set that fire? You don’t have to tell them we were there.” Her fingernails dug into her biceps.

He cranked his head back and forth. “Bad for business. I told Clive that Jean-Claude left a lamp burning near some papers and the wind must’ve blown it over.”

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