Page 6 of Last Ticket to Paradise

Chapter Two

The hand shoved her again. Georgette gasped as the metal bar dug into her skin. Her scrambling feet finally found solid ground, and she straightened, trying to turn amid the bodies pressing against her. She wrenched around and threw out her hands, using the other people as leverage.

With her back to the divers and the water, she scanned the people on the rock craning their necks to get a better view. Nobody met her eye. Nobody scurried away. It could’ve been any one of them. Garlic. What could she do, sniff everyone’s breath? And how many people ate garlic for lunch on this island noted for its spicy food?

She plowed through the crowd on shaky legs. Tourists eager to watch the fantastic divers merged into the space behind her. She scrambled down the rocks, her knees trembling. She could’ve gone over. She jumped off the last rock and landed on the hard, wet sand. Glancing over her shoulder, she jogged down the beach back toward the resort.

What was that all about? Did the locals here resent tourists? Maybe there was something to those warnings. And why had she been singled out? Perhaps she presented the easiest target as her tall frame had leaned over the railing.

She shivered despite the warm sun beating on her shoulders. The Palumba Falls Resort rose, shimmering out of the sand like a mirage. She rinsed off her feet in the beachside shower, slipped her flip-flops back on, and scuffed across the red tile floor to the bar.

Wedging against the barstool, she ordered another lemonade from her friend, Nigel the bartender, although she probably could’ve used something stronger.

He slid the sweating glass toward her. “Are you all right?”

She gulped half the glass before answering. “I just had a scare out by the two points watching the divers. Someone shoved me and told me to go home.”

Nigel stopped wiping the bar. “Was it one of the locals?”

Pressing the glass against her cheek, she said, “I don’t know. I couldn’t turn around fast enough, and then I didn’t see anyone. I thought I was going to go over the railing.”

He gripped the edge of the bar. “Someone tried to push you over?”

She formed a fist against her bouncing knee. “I don’t think so, but I was standing against the railing when he pushed me forward.”

Nigel topped off her lemonade. “You need to tell the boss about this.”

“What’s he going to do about it? I was thinking about calling the police, but it’s really kind of silly.”

He nodded and tapped the side of his nose. “The boss has a lot of power on this island, maybe more than the constable.”

Georgette smoothed the loosened strands of hair back from her face. Nigel obviously had a lot of confidence in The Boss. “Okay, I’ll tell your boss. Where is he?”

Nigel pointed to a tall man seated at a table, hunched over some papers. As if sensing the attention, the man lifted his head, a lock of sun-drenched hair falling over one eye.

***

Jake looked up and squinted toward the bar. There was that long cool drink of water from the airplane with legs up to there...Georgette. Hadn’t seemed quite so judgmental on the beach, but then, she seemed pissed off about something.

Nigel pointed to him, and Georgette sprang off the barstool and prowled toward him. She had the sinuous grace of a jungle cat.

He jumped up from his chair. “Hello again. Georgette, right?”

Her whiskey eyes narrowed, slanting up at the corners. “You’re the owner of Palumba Falls?”

From the ice crackling through her voice, it didn’t sound like she approved. The fact that he owned the most luxurious resort on the island acted like catnip on most women. She’d seemed to like the place when they talked on the beach.

He gestured to the chair opposite his. “Yes, I own Palumba Falls. I’m Jake Kincaid.”

She stood beside the chair, her shoulders back, her head high. Most tall women he knew slouched. This one owned her height—he liked it.

Her nostrils flared as she looked up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re the owner?”

He shrugged. “We didn’t get that far in the introductions. Have a seat. I saw you talking to Nigel. Can I help you with something?”

She chewed her full bottom lip before folding into the chair. She crossed her long legs, tanned golden from some tanning salon rather than brown from the sun. “Something weird happened to me while I was watching the divers at the two points. Nigel advised me to tell you about it.”

His pulse quickened. There shouldn’t be any trouble at theDevil’s Teeth. That was clogged with tourists, off-limits to island business. He cocked his head. “Trouble?”

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