Page 8 of Last Ticket to Paradise

He crossed an ankle over his knee. She really had no idea who his father was. “I had one big investor, and I’ve already paid him back. It’s all mine now.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Don’t the locals resent you for building in their paradise, for bringing all the problems tourism creates?”

He leaned forward, planting his chin in his hands. No empty-headed bimbo here, but then, he’d never thought she was. “Tourism might bring its problems, but it brings benefits as well. The money from tourism improved the infrastructure of the island, created jobs, raised the standard of living, and built more schools. Do you know that the literacy rate on the island has increased by thirty percent in the past ten years since I developed Palumba Falls?”

Holding his breath, he waited for the yawn, the suggestion that they drink up and jump in the pool.

A line creased her brow, and a slight smile curved her lips. “You sound defensive. Do you feel guilty?”

Ouch. Not such a baby after all. Hewasdefensive, but not because he felt guilty about bringing tourism to Palumba. And he didn’t need this prissy teetotaler, as intriguing as she was, sitting in judgment over him.

He lounged back in his chair. “Drink up and take a dip in the pool. I’m going to finish this paperwork. I still have a lot of island left to decimate.”

Her fingers fumbled against the glass, and she finished off the rest of her island punch. “Sorry to disturb you.”

He looked up from his papers into her luminous eyes.Nowhe felt guilty. “You didn’t disturb me. I hope the remainder of your visit to Palumba is uneventful, and let me know if I can do anything to make your stay more comfortable.”

Like loosen the rest of your wild hair from that braid. Or rub sun tan oil across your smooth belly. Or take that luscious bottom lip between my teeth. Or...

Her chair scraped back. “Thank you.”

***

Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. The man shows a spark of interest, talks passionately about a topic dear to him, and you shoot him down. Not every man is Brice—untrustworthy, deceitful, foolish.

Heading back to her room, she stumbled across the tile, her legs feeling numb. Jake wasn’t kidding about that island punch. It packed a punch. She giggled and then covered her mouth. Was she drunk?

The maid’s cart was parked outside her room, so she pushed open the door. The maid was bending over one of the open dresser drawers and jerked up when Georgette entered the room. “I’m sorry, miss. Did you already unpack? One of the services of the resort is that we unpack for you.”

The guidebook didn’t lie. This was a full-service joint. “Thank you. I already unpacked.”

The maid backed out of the room. “I’ll return for turndown service.”

Georgette drew the blinds against the late afternoon sun and checked her watch. Time to call Mom.

She flopped onto the bed, grabbed her cell phone, and tapped the display for Home.

Mom’s voice rose to near hysteria. “What do you mean she’s not there but hasn’t checked out?”

Georgette rolled her eyes, wishing she were a good liar. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, Mom. She probably joined that group of French tourists for some island-hopping.”

“Jamie doesn’t speak French.”

Georgette rubbed her eyes. “I’m sure they figured out some way to communicate.”

Mom said in a tight voice, “Is that a crack about Jamie’s friendliness? She can’t help it. Men flock to her. Maybe if you learned to curb that sarcastic tongue of yours, they’d flock to you, too.”

Was that why Jake’s lips had tightened when she asked if he felt guilty? She’d be damned if she’d turn into some fawning sycophant to land a man. At least Brice didn’t want that. Or at least he had said he didn’t.

She rolled onto her stomach. “I’ll wait here until Jamie comes back. She’s fine. Probably living it up with her new friends.”

Mom sighed. “I hope you’re right. Keep asking around. Someone has to know where a beautiful girl like that went. Don’t give up. You’re not supposed to be on vacation, Georgette. And Brice wants you to hurry home.”

Georgette sat up. “Tell him to give it up.”

“Don’t be so hard. He’s sorry. It’ll never happen again. He’s the perfect man for you, Georgette. You’ll be an exemplary professor’s wife, like I never could. You two share all the same interests. Forgive and forget.”

Georgette squeezed her eyes shut as she gripped the phone. Never. She’d never forget that moment she walked into his bedroom. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow, Mom.”

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