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Island heat
Ten years ago, Aaron Wethers saved Rebecca Cromwell from drowning on spring break. Enamored by her sexy savior, Rebecca fell short of getting the hard-edged executive interested in turning his role of practical hero into a romantic one. Now his Caribbean resort is hosting Rebecca’s fashion collection, and she has two weeks to show Aaron how much she’s grown up. Yet instead of enjoying revenge, she’s falling hard for the real but enigmatic man behind her long-ago infatuation.
Aaron hasn’t forgotten the vibrant young student who propositioned him that night. He’s left breathless by the self-assured, stunning beauty she’s become. Under a blue island sky, they discover a deep, searing connection. But when a series of dangerous events threaten to sabotage her show, can he be the hero she needs now?
“Tell me how we met. Where?”
Rebecca stopped walking and pointed to the water. “Out there.”
“Out where?”
“In the ocean. Ten years ago you saved me from drowning.” She started walking again. “And when I offered my heart to you, you turned me away.”
He blinked and didn’t move. No, it couldn’t be. “Becca? You’re little Becca?”
She threw out her arms and kept walking, increasing the distance between them. “As you can see, I’m not little anymore. And I know it’s best to stay away from you. You once called me a little mouse.”
“I know,” he said, walking up to her, easily catching up to her.
“Yes, but the little mouse now knows better than to play with the lion.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t mean to hurt you—”
“What’s past is past.”
“And I don’t see you as a mouse anymore.”
She stopped and looked up at him. “I’m glad, because I want you to picture me as something else.”
“What?”
“A dragonfly that you will never catch.”
He shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have every intention of catching you.”
Dear Reader,
Tales of my great-great-grandfather, a rebel who grew up on the island of Jamaica, helped to flavor my imagination for the arrogant Aaron Wethers in Touch of Paradise. The talented Rebecca Cromwell came to me after I attended a fashion show for a local designer.
This story of sun, sand and seduction led to questions of “What if...”
What if a misunderstanding tore apart two people who were clearly meant for each other? What if a pet iguana helped reunite them? What if someone turned paradise into a dangerous puzzle?
What if...
Well, you get the idea. Finding the answers to these questions led to a journey of twists and turns and the ultimate romance.
Enjoy,
Dara Girard
Touch of Paradise
Dara Girard
www.millsandboon.co.uk
DARA GIRARD fell in love with storytelling at an early age. Her romance writing career happened by chance when she discovered the power of a happy ending. She is an award-winning author whose novels are known for their sense of humor, interesting plot twists and witty dialogue. When she’s not writing, she enjoys spring mornings and autumn afternoons, French pastries, dancing to the latest hits, and long drives.
Dara loves to hear from her readers. You can reach her at contactdara@daragirard.com or PO Box 10345, Silver Spring, MD 20914.
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To my readers.
Contents
Cover
Back Cover Text
Introduction
Dear Reader
Title Page
About the Author
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Epilogue
Copyright
Chapter 1
The luscious, exotic island of St. James boasted white sand beaches, towering coconut and breadfruit trees and water so blue it put the sky to shame. Red Beacon Villa Resorts sat on the far north side, away from the island’s bustling capital and other major cities. The resort was an international destination that catered to an array of guests and had done so for the past fifty years. Its majestic main house stood proud and welcoming. But while outside a soft Caribbean breeze toyed with the palm trees that surrounded the house’s tall pillars and gleaming windows, a storm raged within.
“She said what?” Aaron Wethers asked, glaring at the man who faced him. A little green lizard sat outside on the windowsill, seeming to look at the two men who sat in the office. One man sat behind a large oak desk decorated with intricate, inlaid gold trim. He was considerably younger than the second man and nearly twice his size, and his steady gaze seemed to make the second man sink lower in his chair.
The second man was Harvey Clark, a name he’d hated since he was a boy, but he’d never had the courage to change it, so he preferred to go by the initials H.C. Harvey wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief and fought not to chew his nails. It was a nervous habit he’d finally conquered in his late forties. The room wasn’t hot, but under Wethers’s stare, he felt like an ant under a microscope. He’d practiced what he was going to say all yesterday and even this morning before the meeting, but nothing could have prepared him for the anger that flashed in his boss’s penetrating dark gaze.
Wethers was a man both respected and, at times, feared. He was the kind of man who could make anyone feel small with just a glance. Not due to arrogance, although as a child of privilege it was almost expected, or because he was a bully—he was a fair man and loyal to his staff. Harvey liked him. He’d worked for his father and was honored to work with the son. But the younger Wethers was a man you didn’t want to disappoint, and one you certainly didn’t want to make angry. Harvey lightened his tone, attempting not to make the news sound as bad as it really was. “Your sister needs your help.”
Aaron fell silent, then slowly blinked with the ease of a lazy lion. “What the hell do I know about hosting a fashion show?” he finally asked.
“You don’t have to know anything. That’s not what she needs you for.”
“What, then?”
“She thinks someone is trying to sabotage the show. A box of props went missing.”
“And we had a new shipment sent. I know. I had a friend of mine take care of replacing the items. I’d hardly call that sabotage.”
Harvey wiped his neck, then glanced outside and saw Wethers’s son, Brandon, looking through the bushes. “But your sister is nervous because other things have gone wrong.”
“My sister tends to dramatize issues.” Wethers kept his gaze focused on the magnificent view of the ocean from his office window.
“Right now she’s in the process of leaving the island with three of her models who’ve developed rashes all over their bodies.”
“An allergic reaction?”
“She thinks someone tampered with their makeup. She’s taking several samples with her to get tested.”
“She could have had someone else do that.”
“Your mother said—”
Wethers lifted his brows. “You’re actually going to bring my mother into this, too?”
Harvey silently swore, knowing he’d made a wrong move. Hitting Wethers with both his mother and sister was not a wise strategy. “She agrees with your sister. They both think your involvement is essential.”
Aaron rubbed his chin. “And you’re just telling me this now? My sister couldn’t tell me this yesterday?”
“The makeup tampering—”
Aaron held up his hand. “Alleged tampering.”
“—really concerns her. She wouldn’t have bothered you otherwise,” Harvey finished, then glanced outside again, unable to hold Wethers’s steady gaze, and saw Brandon talking to one of the groundskeepers, who listened to something he said, then shook his head. What was the boy looking for?
“H.C.?”
Harvey turned sharply to him. “Yes?”
“What are you looking at?”
“Your son.”
Wethers’s tone sharpened. “What about my son?”
Harvey shook his head, sorry he’d mentioned it. Wethers had enough to think about, and Harvey didn’t want to worry him needlessly. It was probably nothing. Brandon was a good kid and didn’t usually get into trouble. “Nothing. Sorry, I—I just saw him run past.” He folded his damp handkerchief and pressed it to his forehead again.
Wethers narrowed his eyes. “What’s got you so nervous?”
Harvey shrugged. “I’m not nervous.” He adjusted his position in the large overstuffed chair.
Wethers narrowed his eyes a fraction more. “You believe her, don’t you?”
“These incidents don’t seem like accidents, especially the last one.”
Aaron shrugged. “Two mishaps aren’t—”
“Three.”
“Excuse me?”
“Actually, there have been three mishaps. These two were just the latest. The first one involved the digital file for the event. It somehow got corrupted, but fortunately there was a backup.”
“Hmm.”
“She really sounded upset on the phone about what’s happening.”
Aaron groaned. “I hate this. You know my plan was to stay as far away as possible over these next several days while our resort is overrun with over-indulged, self-interested parasites.”
Harvey held out his hands. “I know you had a bad experience with models—”
“Bad? Would you call the sinking of the Titanic merely bad? The stock market crash of 1929 a mere miscalculation?”
Harvey sighed. “I’m sorry. I know how bad...I mean awful—” he quickly corrected “—it was for you. But that was more than nine years ago. This isn’t about vanity. I’ve seen some of what they’re putting together and it’s really beautiful, and the people I’ve met have been very nice. We’re dealing with professionals, and I’ll help as much as I can, but I think your sister’s concern shouldn’t be taken lightly.”
Aaron slowly stood to his feet. “You’re a good man, H.C.” Aaron walked around the desk, then leaned against it with his arms folded. “I love my sister, but she has a habit of causing trouble, and my mother indulges her. But maybe there is something to this. When is my mother coming?”
Harvey nervously cleared his throat, wishing Wethers would return to his seat. He hated having to look up at him. “Your—your mother?”
“Yes, my mother. This is right up her alley. If she’s as concerned as my sister, she’ll love to be here and make sure everything is spectacular. She’s been a fashion hound since I was a kid. She’ll use this opportunity to indulge her personal hobby. I don’t care if she wants to come and boss me around a bit while I look into what’s going on.”
Harvey unfolded his damp handkerchief and wiped his forehead, his cheeks and his neck, then crumpled it in his fist. This was the news he didn’t want to deliver. “That’s the problem.”
Aaron stilled. “What is?”
“Your mother needs you to be in charge.”
“Me? Why?”
“She broke her ankle while vacationing in Switzerland and won’t be able to be here, either.”
Wethers looked out the window at the swaying palm trees and said in a low voice, “How convenient.”
“It doesn’t sound very convenient to me.”
Wethers shifted his gaze back to Harvey. “You missed the ring of sarcasm. I’ll try to be clearer next time.” He tapped a finger against his lips and said in a quiet voice, “I wonder what those two are up to?”
“I really think your sister’s frightened.”
“Then why didn’t she tell me directly?”
“She didn’t think you’d believe her. And this event is very important to her. This new designer is making waves around the globe. Red Beacon Villa Resorts will make a name for itself hosting the Cromwell Collection.”
“I don’t care what his name is—”
“Her. Her name is Rebecca Cromwell,” Harvey continued, ignoring Aaron’s obvious boredom with the topic.
Aaron stared at him for a long moment, making it clear he didn’t care.
Harvey swallowed. He hated when Wethers pinned him with that penetrating look. “I just thought you should know.”
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What you really think. Should I be concerned?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Harvey said, relieved that at least that was the truth. “There are a lot of people involved in this event—volunteers, caterers, photographers, the stage crew, the stylists. Mistakes are bound to happen.”
“You’re giving me excuses, not an opinion. What do you really think?”
“I think that if what Candace believes is true, we have a serious problem because things seem to be escalating. The corrupted file and lost props were an annoyance, but tampering with the model’s makeup makes things more dangerous. Only the top three models were affected, and they were to be the key draw for the event, since one of them is a local girl. If anything else goes wrong, it’s possible we’ll have to cancel.”
“I’m not going to let that happen. We may have lost three days, but we have eleven days left.”
“Yes, sir,” Harvey said, feeling his heart cheer. He knew Wethers would do whatever it took to save the show.
“I want to meet with security in an hour.”
“Yes.” Harvey nodded, then left the room, wiping his forehead again when his phone rang. “Hello?”
“What does he think?” Candace Wethers said.
Harvey lowered his voice. “You should have told him yourself.”
“You know I couldn’t. Was he angry?”
“Yes, at first, then he said he’ll look into it.”
“Did you tell him about Rebecca?”
“Only briefly. I thought it best to focus on the show. I don’t think he’ll believe she’s the one being targeted. Besides, there’s no proof.”
“I know, but I just have a bad feeling about this. I think whoever is trying to sabotage the show is trying to hurt her.”
“You think her life’s in danger?”
Candace sighed. “I really don’t know. It doesn’t make sense, but I have a horrible feeling that Rebecca could get hurt in more ways than one.”
“Do you think perhaps we should reschedule or cancel the show?”
“No,” she said quickly. “Don’t even think that. I know that Aaron can do this.”
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
Candace laughed in a way that made Harvey nervous. “I always know what I’m doing.”
* * *
Aaron studied the lizard sunning on his windowsill. “If it were just Candace and my mother I wouldn’t care much, but it’s not like H.C. to worry,” he said, talking to the creature. “I can’t have that, but Candace knew I wanted to stay out of this fashion thing.” Was she faking this crazy story about sabotage? No, it would be too easy to verify. And she wouldn’t leave a key event, like a high-profile fashion show, just to annoy him. Although he wouldn’t put much past her. She liked to get her way and thought his life was dull. Was this her way of adding some spice?
The lizard looked at him briefly, then darted away. Aaron rested his hands on the window frame and looked out at the ocean. Was it wrong to want a quiet, simple life? His sister always wanted more. More friends, more excitement, more fun. That’s why she trotted across the globe while he stayed on St. James, raising his son. She was the creative one in the family. She was the one who loved fashion and art. She was beautiful, reckless, changeable and irresistible. He’d idolized her so much as a child that, as a grown man, he’d married a woman similar to her, and that had been a disaster.
His marriage to Ina Margarita Sheldon had shown him just how much he and his sister were dissimilar. He was practical and rational and would never change, although his sister continued to try to encourage him to do so. He remembered their conversation last month as they sat on the veranda of the main house, where he and his son lived. His mother and sister each had their own separate small three-bedroom chalet, located several hundred feet away from his residence, but Candace always liked to stop by to chat, scold or tease him, depending on her mood.
“You can do better,” she said, nibbling on a fresh slice of melon. A large pink pinwheel hat shaded her face.
“What are you talking about?” Aaron asked as he watched his sister make her way through the plate full of fruit.
“Mary, the new woman you’re seeing.”
Aaron shook his head and speared a mango cube. “Her name is Martha Banyan.”
“And she’s a librarian.”
“She’s a teacher.” He pointed his fork at her. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“I’m glad you did. I would have found out anyway. You know news travels fast on this island. I just know you can do better.”
Aaron set his fork down, no longer interested in eating. “I thought you’d be impressed.”
“Impressed by what? Plain, boring, dull—”
“She’s pretty and sweet.”
“I wasn’t talking about how she looks. I was talking about her clothes.”
“Not all women are interested in fashion like you, or can afford to change their wardrobe every season.”
Candace made a face. “There’s no need to exaggerate.”
Aaron grinned. “I thought I was being conservative.”
Candace rolled her eyes and swung her foot. “She’s just not the right one for you.”
Aaron sat back and folded his arms, trying to keep his tone neutral, although his sister’s criticism bothered him. “I thought you’d at least be happy for me. You’re the one who’s been pressuring me to start dating again.”
“Settling for the first woman who said yes was not what I meant.”
Aaron frowned. “I’m not settling.”
“She’s everything Ina isn’t.”
“Exactly.” He speared a large slice of pineapple with his fork.
“You shouldn’t sound so proud of it.” Candace waved her fork at him before she stabbed another melon slice. “You’re going to get bored with her. You’re a lot wilder than you think, little brother. Remember, you’ve got the blood of a pirate running through you.”
“I’m nothing like our ancestor,” Aaron said, picking up his fork again, feeling suddenly restless. He hated the comparison. It made him seem more mysterious than he actually was. “That’s what disappointed Ina the most. She thought she was marrying someone else.” Early in their marriage, he discovered she had bought into their ancestral history and thought she had married a “rogue,” and was very disappointed.
“She was stupid. She didn’t know what she had.”
“Martha is good with Brandon.”
“Of course she is,” Candace said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “She’s a librarian, for goodness’ sake.”
“Teacher,” Aaron corrected.
“See?” Candace waved her hand again, as if he’d just proven her point. “She’s paid to be good with children.”
“And she’s smart and—”
Candace shook her head again. “And she’s still wrong for you.”
“She loves this island as much as I do, she likes my son and she likes me.”
Candace set her fork down. “Are you thinking of marrying her?”
“It’s too soon for that, but—”
“But you’re thinking about it?” She removed her sunglasses and stared directly at him.
“I’m ready to marry again,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
Candace sighed and folded her arms. “Promise me one thing.”
He looked at her. “What?”
“Don’t get too serious about her until after the fashion show.”
A month later, Candace’s words still echoed in his head. Aaron turned from the window, trying to let the memory of that talk fade, but it wouldn’t leave him. He still found the request odd. He was a grown man. He didn’t need his older sister’s blessing on anything. But he still remembered the look on her face when she asked him to wait until after the show. He recalled how sly she looked. But if she thought surrounding him with an endless supply of beautiful women would change his mind, she’d be disappointed. But would she go this far to get him involved? He sighed when he heard a quiet knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said, returning to his desk.
His eight-year-old son, Brandon, entered and he felt some of his annoyance subside. His son was the only thing he didn’t regret about his marriage. “What is it?” he asked with a smile.
Brandon bit his lip. “Promise you won’t get mad.”
“I can’t promise you that, but tell me anyway.”
“I’ve looked everywhere.”
Aaron’s smile fell. “Looked for what?”
“Can you please promise not to get mad?” Brandon said, nervously playing with his fingers and turning his feet inward.
He stood. “Brandon.”
“At least don’t shout,” he said, straightening his shoulders and trying to look brave.
Aaron folded his arms. “What happened?”
Brandon hung his head and spoke to the floor. “Trident is missing.”
Chapter 2
As a child, Rebecca Cromwell feared the monster under the bed. At twenty-nine, she finally saw it. It was the last straw. Her nerves were already frayed due to three days where everything had gone wrong. Since landing on St. James, she’d faced one mishap after another and feared that the latest incident would severely hamper the success of her upcoming fashion show.
She’d hoped for some time to decompress, since over the past three days she’d hardly slept or eaten. After scrambling to find replacements for the three models she’d lost, she’d decided to take a long, hot shower and enjoy one of the luxurious amenities in her spacious suite. It was one of thirty private villas that lined the secluded cove where Red Beacon Villa Resorts was located. She could see the sun’s rays dancing along the crystal clear waters from one of her many palatial windows.
Humming to herself, she’d left her bathroom and crossed the cool bare marble floors, and she’d planned on a quick nap when she saw a green head with dark eyes peek out from the shadowy depths under her bed. She screamed and jumped on the mattress. That’s when she thought that being on top of the monster was worse than seeing the monster, so she jumped off the bed and up on a chair.
“Rebecca!” Her assistant, Kelli Davis, pounded on her front door. “Are you okay?”
“It’s open.”
Kelli rushed into the room with her hair uncombed, half-dressed, her shirt still hanging off her shoulder and jeans unzipped. She stared up at her. “What’s wrong?”
Rebecca pointed with a shaky finger. “There’s something under my bed.”
Kelli grinned. “Giant dust bunnies?”
“No, something big and green. Don’t look!” she said when Kelli bent down to look under the bed.
“Then how am I supposed to see what it is?”
“I already told you what it is.”
Kelli ignored her and lifted the sheet, then screamed, stumbling back. “Oh, my God, you’re right. It’s huge. We have to kill it.” She madly looked around for something to grab, just in case the thing came out from under the bed and tried to attack her, but couldn’t find anything.