Their Festive Island Escape

Can Christmas in the Caribbean…

…bring her comfort and joy this year?

Jilted at the altar exactly three years ago, Celeste wants sun, sea and exotic cocktails, so escaping to Jamaica is perfect. But her peace is disturbed when the hot Santa from the beach turns out to be Reid Evanson—the luxury resort’s CEO and best man at her nonwedding! Could their unexpected chemistry mean he’s the one to restore her love of the festive season?

NINA SINGH lives just outside Boston, USA, with her husband, children and a very rambunctious Yorkie. After several years in the corporate world she finally followed the advice of family and friends to ‘give the writing a go, already’. She’s oh-so-happy she did. When not at her keyboard she likes to spend time on the tennis court or golf course. Or immersed in a good read.

Also by Nina Singh

Miss Prim and the Maverick Millionaire

The Marriage of Inconvenience

Snowed in with Her Reluctant Tycoon

Reunited with Her Italian Billionaire

Tempted by Her Island Millionaire

Christmas with Her Secret Prince

Captivated by the Millionaire

Swept Away by the Venetian Millionaire

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Their Festive Island Escape

Nina Singh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09179-4

THEIR FESTIVE ISLAND ESCAPE

© 2019 Nilay Nina Singh

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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To my children,

you make every vacation and holiday

nothing less than a gift.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

HER SISTER JUST didn’t get it. But then again, Celeste had never really been able to get through to her when it came to the holidays. Or through to her mother, for that matter. Her family would never understand. Not that she really understood them in return.

“I can’t believe you haven’t moved on yet,” Tara declared, throwing her hands up in the air. “Your wedding was three years ago. Get over it already.”

Tara wasn’t often accused of being overly sensitive. For the wedding her sister had so callously just referred to had never actually happened. Celeste bit down on a frustrated groan. She really was in no mood to talk about this. She didn’t even want to think about the day she’d been so humiliatingly left at the altar, waiting for a groom who had never bothered to show up.

The humiliation still haunted her nightmares—dozens of pitying eyes staring at her as the minutes ticked by.

She was supposed to have been a Christmas bride. Instead she’d been a jilted one.

How did Tara not understand that she wanted nothing to do with the holiday now? How did she not see that the best thing to do for her mental health was just to get away from the city until the whole season was over?

Her sister’s next question only proved that she didn’t understand Celeste at all.

“How can you leave your family and just take off to the islands every year? Christmas just isn’t the same without you here.”

Celeste couldn’t help the pang of guilt that landed in her gut. Perhaps one day she’d be able to put all of it behind her. Maybe she’d even enjoy the holidays again at some future point in time. She just wasn’t there yet. Nowhere near, in fact. Every street decoration, every holiday jingle, every sidewalk corner Santa only reminded her of Jack and the days leading up to her abject humiliation.

Not to mention, her sister’s seeming disappointment held a secondary layer. On the surface, Tara sounded like a caring, loving sibling who just wanted to spend the holidays with her older sister. But there was more to it than that. At the age of twenty-six, Tara was much too dependent on her older sister financially. And so was their mother, for that matter.

Celeste knew she should have curbed that dependence long before. Especially given all that it had cost her three years ago. But her sense of duty and responsibility as the only financially stable member of her family often overrode her good sense. Something had broken in her mother when their father had abandoned them over a decade ago, leaving nothing behind but his debts. Wendy had never fully recovered. And Tara had taken it just as hard. It had been left to Celeste as the older sibling to try to pick up the pieces.

She was still doing so. By now it was second nature. Which wasn’t exactly a sound reason to keep doing it, but she couldn’t exactly turn her back on either of them. Especially considering Tara was a mother herself now. Besides, wasn’t one of the reasons Celeste had worked so hard to be able to help out her always cash-strapped family members?

“I thought for sure you’d stay around this year, sis.” Tara’s voice was petulant and whiny.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because your usual resort is nothing but a pile of damaged debris.”

She spoke the truth. The last hurricane season had nearly destroyed the island that housed Celeste’s yearly destination spot. After her devastating non-wedding, Celeste had chosen to continue on and attend her already-paid-for Caribbean honeymoon on a luxe tropical resort. She’d been going back to the same location every December since. This year, that island was sadly not an option.

Celeste had been heartbroken thinking of the usual staff and how they’d lost their livelihoods. She’d been regularly donating to various charities in charge of rebuilding, wished she could do more. In the meantime, she’d had to choose an unfamiliar resort on a different island. Apparently, her family had been counting on her canceling the trip altogether.

Never mind that she’d called weeks ago to tell both her sister and her mother of her exact plans.

Honestly, it was as if they didn’t know her at all.

It would take more than a natural disaster to keep her in Manhattan over the holidays. She wanted nothing to do with Christmas, would skip the entire month of December if she possibly could. The non-stop carols, the sparkling decorations all over the city, the hustling and bustling crowds within a mile of any shopping center. It all overwhelmed and irritated her to no end. Even the usually quiet and cozy café they sat in was now a crowded mess of harried shoppers carrying all manner of bags and parcels.

And none of that even had anything to do with the bad memories of her broken engagement. That only added a whole other layer of distaste.

Bah humbug and all that.

Across the square wooden table, Tara’s lower lip actually did a little quiver. For the briefest moment, Celeste couldn’t help but feel touched. Tara had her faults, but Celeste knew deep down that her little sister really did miss her over the holidays. Tara just wasn’t one to show much emotion. No wonder, given the way they’d had to grow up. Though that quality had seemed to be slowly softening since she’d become a mother.

“I was hoping we could go in on Mom’s gift together,” Tara continued. “You know, split the cost.” She glanced downward toward the floor. “Money’s a little tight for me right now, and you just got that promotion…”

The usual hint of guilt tugged within her chest.

Celeste wasn’t going to bother to point out that “going in together” most often meant she would be footing the whole cost of their mother’s gift and the holiday dinner. But what was there to do? The truth was, Celeste really was much better off than her sister. As was usually the case. Still, it was a fact that couldn’t exactly be ignored.

Besides, Celeste didn’t have it in her to discuss it much further. She had to get home and start packing. She reached for her purse and pulled out her checkbook, started scribbling after deciding on an amount, then handed it to her only sibling.

“Here, this should cover the cost of Mom’s gift and a nice dinner out for the two of you. As well as a little extra so that you can pick up something for yourself,” she added, despite the fact that she’d already handed Tara the holiday gift she’d purchased for her as soon as they’d sat down—a pair of fourteen-karat gold teardrop earrings she’d meticulously wrapped herself in bright, colorful paper and ribbons. Looked like Tara’s guilt trip about her leaving to go on holiday was indeed working.

Tara’s lips quivered ever so slightly and her eyes grew shiny as she reached for the check. “Thanks, sis. I’m going to find a way to pay you back one of these days. Once I figure out how to get on my own two feet.”

Celeste gave her hand a squeeze. “I know you will,” she reassured, despite her own doubt.

Tara smiled. “Hope you have a good trip. See you when you get back.”

Even under the bulky, stuffed red flannel suit, it was clear the man who wore it was no regular Santa. No, this man was definitely not old, rotund or particularly jolly. Though Celeste could tell he was trying hard to fit the part. Couldn’t the resort have found a better-fitting actor to play the role? Even from this distance where she sat on her lounge chair, she could tell Santa was tall and fit. His piercing dark eyes held no jolly old twinkle, though they did seem to catch the sunlight as he shifted his gaze from one child to the next as he handed out presents from his burly, oversize sack. An odd sensation of déjà vu nagged at her. Something about the pretend Santa seemed oddly familiar. Probably just her imagination.

The kids didn’t seem to notice how ill-suited he was for the role, they were all laughing loudly and scurrying to open the gifts they’d just been handed.

Celeste flipped the page of the paperback she’d picked up at the airport and returned her attention to the story. Or she tried to, anyway. The kids were pretty noisy. The scene before her was charming and sweet—Santa sent to the beach to entertain and bestow gifts upon the youngest guests. It reminded her of everything she’d once so foolishly longed for. Exactly the kind of scene she was trying to get away from when she jetted out to the Caribbean every December. She was here for warm and tropical. Not stark reminders of all she’d lost three years ago when the man she’d loved, the man she’d dreamed of having children with like the ones currently in front of her, had so callously deserted her at the worst possible moment.

This resort was definitely geared more toward families than the one she was used to. She might have to find a more remote section of beach in order to avoid such scenes for the rest of her stay. Her heart couldn’t take it.

A shadow suddenly fell over the pages of her book.

“Ho-ho-ho.”

Santa appeared to be strolling the beach closer and closer to where she sat, the children following close behind him. Now they all stood just a couple of feet from her chair. She watched as St. Nicholas leaned down to tousle the hair of one particularly excited young boy who’d clearly just received some type of toy car based on the wrapped shape.

It was futile. There was no way to even try to concentrate on her romantic suspense novel now. As charming as the children were, and they really were adorable, she couldn’t take much more Christmas cheer. Glancing down the expanse of sand, she searched in vain for another empty beach chair farther away from this main part of the resort. They all appeared taken. With a resigned sigh, Celeste dropped the book and stood, wrapping her silky sarong around her midsection. Might as well get another cup of coffee or perhaps a latte until all the commotion quieted.

A squealing toddler darted past her to get to the faux Santa and she nearly toppled over in her effort to avoid the collision. This was so far from the relaxing morning she’d envisioned. Not that the kids weren’t cute. They really were, with all their excitement and near tangible anticipation to receive a present. They were just so…loud. Loud, boisterous reminders of all she’d be missing out on in life. Look at how her one attempt to start a family had turned out; nothing more than an abject lesson in humiliation and hurt.

No, she wouldn’t be having children. Or her own family. The one she’d been born into took up more than enough of her time and emotional energy.

She leaned down to retrieve her flip-flops from beneath the lounge chair and stopped short when she straightened. A wall of bright red topped by a cotton white beard suddenly filled her view.

“Ho-ho-ho. Well, hello there, young lady.” Santa smiled at her.

“Um…hi.”

“We appear to have disturbed your morning, miss. A big jolly apology for the nuisance.”

His words were cordial enough. But Celeste had the clear impression that he was somehow mocking her.

“No apology necessary, St. Nick,” she said with a slight salute, then tried to step around him, only to have him block her path. Of all the nerve.

The smile grew wider under the thick fake beard. “Really? I mean, you practically have a circular thought bubble above your head that screams ‘bah humbug.’”

The same strange sensation of familiarity nagged at her yet again. He was clearly deepening his voice for the role but something about the tone and inflection rang a bell. And the eyes. As she studied their golden depths she couldn’t help but sense that she’d somehow gazed upon those eyes before.

Had she met him before in a professional capacity? Her position as VP of marketing for a luxury goods firm had her regularly working on advertising campaigns with various agencies. Maybe Santa had done work previously as a character actor for a project she’d worked on in the past.

What were the chances?

Not that it mattered. Right now all that mattered was that she find some peace and quiet.

But St. Nick seemed to have other plans.

“Excuse me.”

Reid knew he should have stepped away the first time she’d said it. But he couldn’t seem to help himself. He’d recognized her immediately. She clearly didn’t remember Reid in return. He wondered if her cutting look of utter disdain would change at all if she did recall who he was. No doubt it would intensify. They hadn’t exactly been on the best of terms the last time they’d seen each other.

Well, the feeling was mutual.

The children scattered all at once, clearly bored with the conversation the adults were having above their heads.

“I didn’t realize they’d hired someone to play the part of Scrooge this morning,” he goaded her, not even sure why he was doing so. There really was no reason to try to get a rise out of her. Other than for his pure entertainment.

She sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. I somehow missed the part where my holiday spirit was any of your business.”

He shrugged. “We just aim to please every guest, is all.”

She folded her arms across her chest. “And this is how you go about doing so? Aren’t you overstepping your responsibility just a bit? You’re here simply to hand out some presents to the children.” She pointed to the empty fleece sack he held. “Clearly your task is over.”

Wow, she really was something else. She may as well have flicked him away like a royal princess dismissing a lowly jester. Not that he didn’t look the part in this ridiculous suit.

“Furthermore, I fail to see how my satisfaction is the responsibility of the resort Santa.” She studied him up and down. Clearly, he came up lacking in her summation. He should have walked away long before. Or never approached her in the first place. Life was too short to deal with the likes of Miss Frajedi. He had too much on his plate trying to get this place in order.

Still, Reid found himself studying her closely. The past three years had been extremely kind to her, she was still strikingly attractive. Dark, wavy hair framed a strong face with high cheekbones and hazel eyes the color of a Caribbean sunset. No wonder Jack had fallen for her so hard, the poor man. Luckily, he’d come to his senses in time. Though Reid had never approved of the way his friend had ultimately ended things. So last-minute. So hurtful. It was never right to leave a lady at the altar. Not even one like Celeste Frajedi. He’d made sure to share that sentiment with his friend, resulting in a now strained relationship between the men.

Her eyes suddenly narrowed on his face. “Do I know you?” she demanded.

Reid hesitated. For the briefest moment, he debated telling her exactly who he was. The look on her face when she found out would be a sight to see.

Ultimately, he decided against it. What would be the point? She was a paying guest after all. She was entitled to the tropical vacation she had paid for. The resort was large and expansive. The beach alone covered over a mile. If he played his cards right, they would never have to run into each other again for the duration of her stay. In fact, he vowed to make sure of it.

He shrugged. “Everyone knows me. I’m Santa Claus.”

She studied him some more. Part of him wanted her to figure it out. Finally, she blew out a deep breath. “Right. Well, Santa. I’d like to go get a cup of coffee.” With that, she brushed against his arm in her haste to get past him. An enticing scent of coconut and sun-kissed skin tickled his nose. Some kind of static electricity shot through his elbow and clear down his side.

“Merry Christmas, princess.”

He spoke to her back as she stormed off. Her gait hastened as she walked past the breakfast cabana and instead veered toward the residential suite area. Apparently, she’d lost her appetite for the cup of coffee. That thought sent a tingle of guilt through his center.

Reid rubbed a hand down his face as he watched her walk away. Damn it. What had he just done? He thought about going after her to apologize. Now that he thought about it, he had to admit he’d been less than professional just now. As the newly minted co-owner of the Baja Majestic Resort on the beautiful island of Jamaica, he owed it to all of his guests to treat them well, regardless of any past history. He had no excuse. He’d just been so surprised to see her lying there, the recognition had thrown him off.

But he had to make sure not to slip up like that again. He couldn’t forget how important his role was here. No one else was going to get this place up to the standards that the Evanson clientele expected. His father certainly wasn’t up to the task. In fact, his father seemed to be doing everything possible to run the family hospitality business into the ground. A gambler through and through, his fraternal parent took way too many chances, risked too many valuables. The cleanup always fell to Reid. This current project being no exception.

He couldn’t allow himself to forget how much responsibility he bore. An entire conglomerate of employees, contract workers, and their dependents relied on Evanson Hotels and Resorts for their livelihoods and their future. Not to mention his own parents.

And he’d just gone and insulted a valuable, paying guest.

As much as he hated to admit it, he would have to make up for his behavior. He had to somehow atone for the way he’d just treated Celeste Frajedi.

Merry Christmas, princess.

The derisive words repeatedly echoed through her head as Celeste fled to her deluxe suite and slammed the door behind her. Walking over to the glass screen door leading to the third-floor balcony, she pulled aside the curtains to let the bright sunshine in. He hands were shaking, she realized with no small amount of dismay. He’d rattled her. When was the last time she’d actually felt thrown by a man? Or anyone else, for that matter? Her mother notwithstanding.

Perhaps a better question was why had she let the likes of a pretend Santa Claus in an ill-fitting suit and a side-skewed beard get to her so badly?

There was something about the way he’d looked at her. He clearly hadn’t liked what he’d seen. Had her feelings regarding the noisy children been so obvious? She hadn’t realized she’d shown any outward signs that she’d been bothered by them but clearly the man had picked up something. He’d called her a scrooge!