Page 42 of The Blonde Who Came in from the Cold
“I have never cheated on you!” King shouldn’t have been so offended, but he was. Her hair blew around her in the breeze and the ocean air was dewy on her skin and King felt his heart stop beating. “I haven’t looked at another woman since I met you.” The words turned to acid on his tongue. “So help me, I’d give anything to be lying.”
King looked away and slid on his own dark glasses. Looking at her was like staring at the sun.
“Oh my.” The voice brought him back. “Don’t we have our work cut out for us?” The stranger slapped her hands together likeThis should be fun. “My name is Flora. I like florals.” The woman gestured to her long, flower-covered dress as if they might have missed it. “I will be your personal cupid.”
She gave one of those ridiculous bows again while, behind them, the staff started unloading a mountain of luggage from the cargo hold of the plane. The designer suitcases alone were probably worth ten grand, not to mention the clothes and accessories (and gear) contained within them. King only hoped it was enough. Because he had to get into that compound and then off of this island before something killed him, and at the moment, he wasn’t sure which was more dangerous—the arms dealer on the other side of the mountain or the woman who was standing right beside him, staring daggers.
“No offense, Flora, but I’m starting to worry this island might not be big enough for the two of us.” Alex looked at King like she might slice right through his carotid with her gaze and save herself the hassle of a messy divorce. “Is there, like, a hotel on the other side? A Ritz maybe? I’d even do a Four Seasons? Can I check in there?”
“Oh no!” Flora’s serene expression turned to panic. “You must never go to the other side of the island.”
“Why?” Alex got a devilish gleam in her eye. “Is it clothing optional? Because that wouldn’t be a problem.”
King tried not to swallow his tongue.
“No,” Flora was saying. “Nothing like that. Just”—she cut a nervous glance between them, eyes pinballing back and forth like she didn’t know where to put the lie to make it stick—“zoning issues.”
“Zoning?” King asked. “I thought the island was private.”
“Oh, it is!” Flora’s voice had taken on that too-pretentious-to-be-real tone again. “It’s just... well, it’s moresemiprivate. We have this side of the island.” She pointed from the rugged line of mountains that split the island down the center to the black sand beach and lush green jungle. “Why would we venture over there when we have paradise here? Besides, I doubt you could even reach the other side. The mountain is... high.” She looked up at it like she couldn’t think of any other word. “And there are cliffs and rockslides and, besides, you’ll have plenty to keep you busy right here. Now kiss.”
At first, King thought he must have misheard her because the words ran together as if they were one thought—one sentence. As if she hadn’t just said—
“Kiss!”
“I’m sorry, what?” King demanded, and the woman rolled her eyes as if he were the one being ridiculous.
“It’s tradition, here, at Cupid’s Arrow”—she did the ridiculous bow again—“that I ask all of my lovers”—she gestured at King—“to begin their time here by kissing their lovelies.” She gestured toward Alex. “Everyone kisses when they arrive and then again as they leave and as much as possible in the middle.” She gave an exaggerated wink. But, just as quickly, grew serious. “I need to see what we’re working with.”
What she was working...
“Well,lover...” Alex lingered on the word. She was enjoying herself far too much as she turned to him. “She wants to see what you’re... working with.”
King had been in and out of covers for the past two years but it had never felt so easy. He didn’t even have to think about what he was doing. In fact, for the first time in his life, he didn’t think at all. He just slipped an arm around her. “You know exactly what I’mworking with.” And then King just... forgot. About everything—the plane and the mountain and the way the Atlantic lapped against black sand and glistened in the sun. Even Flora seemed to fade into the background as Alex went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his.
That was it. Just a brush. Just a whisper. It should have been enough. But it wasn’t. And when their lips parted, he felt her fingers in his hair and he slid his hands down her waist, gripping and grabbing and holding on, needing... something. More.
More heat. More pressure. More time. More—
Alex pulled away and King let her go, and for a moment there was nothing but the sound of his heart and the lapping of the waves and Flora’s breathless whisper.
“Well, I suppose we can work with that.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Present Day
The Island
Alex
Alex watched the jet stairs descend slowly and waited for a wave of ocean air and déjà vu to overwhelm her senses—either that or plain old-fashioned regret.
But all she felt was a thong that wasn’t exactly staying where it was supposed to. “Remind me never to let you go shopping for me again.” She scowled up at him, but King was too busy sliding on his dark glasses, slipping on his mask of cool confidence and rich guy calm.
“Oh. Are we pretending I don’t know the size and shape of your body... darling?” The word was a taunt on his lips. “Is that how we’re going to play it?”
They were close. The open door was right there. And there were stairs. People trip on stairs. People fall down stairs and bust their heads open. People—
