Broken For Me
Natalie Anderson
Broken for Me
Copyright © Natalie Anderson 2018
Cover by Mixing Ink Design
First edition July 2018
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form is forbidden without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book.
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This book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Table of Contents
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
Breathe for Me
Beg for Me
Bared for Me
Bound for Me
Blaze for Me
Broken for Me
About the Author
For Dave
Read all the titles in the ‘Be for Me’ series by
USA TODAY bestselling author Natalie Anderson
BREATHE FOR ME (Xander)
BEG FOR ME (Logan)
BARED FOR ME (Rocco)
BOUND FOR ME (Connor)
BLAZE FOR ME (Austin)
BROKEN FOR ME (Hunter)
CHAPTER ONE
“I GET THE vibe you guys might need a triple shot this morning,” Luisa Williams teased the dazed-looking couple strolling towards her bar. “Not much sleep, huh?”
She recognized the signs and smiles well—their happy glow underlined with an edge of wistfulness. Smiling to herself she quickly got on with their orders. She prided herself on knowing the preferences of all the guests within the first day of their arrival, it was part of the second-to-none service offered here in paradise.
The remote Fijian island was a dot of white sand and green palm trees, with luxury huts nestled amongst them. Each mini villa had stunning ocean views, a private plunge pool and luxury furnishings. Everything was built for the comfort, pleasure and privacy of two. Everything was about intimacy and exclusivity.
Luisa’s baby—the coffee machine—was installed at one end of the long bar in the open-fronted dining complex in the center of the resort. Her spot overlooked the sea, sand and the glorious sunrises and sunsets. She made coffee during the day and mixed cocktails at night. A few month’s work for minimum wages but free food and accommodation in peak honeymoon season in a place where no one would ever think to look for her. Not that she’d been hiding, merely taking time out from her further-flung travels.
Sun, surf, space.
“It’s our last morning,” the woman said mournfully as she waited for her coffee. “I can’t believe our honeymoon is over.”
“But the rest of our life is just beginning,” her husband answered with a sparkle in his eye.
His wife melted against him and lifted her woebegone face for a kiss.
Yeah, ten points to the groom for romantic comment of the morning. Still smiling, Luisa focused on making their latte and long black. She was surrounded by loved-up couples getting it on at least three times a day. There wasn’t a single man on land. Just the way she liked it.
Sun, surf, safety.
Exactly what she wanted for the rest of her life.
Here was ‘home’, until that uneasy feeling rippled through her and culminated in the itchy tickle in the soles of her feet. Travel fever. It was never far away—in fact it had snuck up already. Just this morning she’d decided to book a ticket for her next destination. Europe. She’d let her boss know, she had just under a fortnight left here.
She should take a detour to her actual home. She ought to see her family given it had been so long. But maintaining her effervescence there was difficult and she didn’t want to cope with the sadness and disappointment in her parents’ eyes when she told them she wouldn’t be staying long. She couldn’t stay. Not the way she knew they wanted her to. Not for ever.
“You’re so lucky to work here.” The wife looked longingly round the dining area one last time. “I’d never want to leave.”
“I know.” Luisa placed their coffees on the counter.
It was paradise. The adults-only honeymoon island was famed for its luxury and privacy. Luisa liked to add to that personal and discreet service. She quickly picked which couples she could talk to and which to remain silent and unobtrusive for—the extroverts, the introverts and the combinations of both. She always spoke to the women first—she wasn’t stupid, she knew not to strike up a conversation with a new husband before first making peace with the bride by making it very clear she wasn’t interested. In fact now she wore a wedding band on her ring finger just to settle any hackles and because occasionally there were those guys—the ones who’d been married less than a week but thought it fun to flirt with bar staff already. Jerks.
Fortunately most of the guests were gorgeously happy. The resort usually accommodated about twelve couples and most stayed a week or less. Some couples isolated themselves—seeing and speaking only to each other, utterly lost in their private romance, while others clubbed together with other couples. They all dined at night at the one long table, forming loud, happy parties trading wedding stories and suggestions to spend the days exploring this island and the others nearby. There were a few sea kayaks pulled up on the beach and a few snorkel sets on hand in case anyone felt extra athletic. Sometimes they were used, but often the honeymooners were content to stroll along the beach in between bedroom sessions. Basically there was little to do but laze and make love. And then refuel.
“The launch should be here in a few minutes,” she said cheerily. “You can take your coffees onboard with you and leave the cups on the boat.”
“Thank you so much,” the woman said wistfully.
“You’ll have to come back for an anniversary sometime.” Luisa chuckled softly.
The woman’s eyes lit up, evaporating that longing look. “That’s a great idea.”
Yes, it was and Luisa offered the advice to almost every couple who came to her for the last coffee of their honeymoon.
She waved and watched as the couple wandered down the white sand to meet the boat that was slowly chugging into the shallows. As well as collecting them and another few couples, the boat was delivering supplies. There’d be about four hours to get the goods stored away and the newly vacated villas cleaned and ready before the launch returned in the afternoon to deposit the next sets of lovers.
Luisa watched her boss and one of the porters step forward to lift off the crates. They moved quickly so the honeymooners wouldn’t have to wait too long. Today a third guy was helping. Someone strong and quick. She frowned as she tried to work out who it was. In that moment her boss laughed and waved the guy away and he turned to walk u
p the beach towards the restaurant room. He carried only the one bag and wore faded blue jeans that were wet around the ankles from getting from the boat to the shore. His tee was white and cleaner than it ought to have been if he’d spent the best part of a day crunched in an airplane. It clung to his muscular frame—showing off the jaw-dropping broad shoulders that tapered in to his narrow waist. His legs were long and clearly strong.
Was he a guest or a new hire? Because no one came to this island alone. Apart from her.
She stilled, eyes narrowing as he drew closer. Then she blinked. But her eyes weren’t deceiving her. It was him.
She knew his name. She knew his face. She knew his vibe.
She’d spoken barely a handful of words to him directly, but she’d seen him almost every night that she’d worked in New York for the summer months. And seeing him was fine. He was the best-looking man she’d ever laid eyes on and she’d laid her eyes on hundreds in her four years of endless traveling. He was the hottest. The most intense. And the most silent.
But he’d seen her too. Without so much as a word he’d let her know he was interested.
Hunter Shaw.
The name was perfect for him—he was absolutely a hunter and she’d known instantly that she was in his sights. But to her increasing discomfort, he’d done nothing. He’d watched her—every minute, every night. Not in a stalker-stare way, but with a quiet awareness—so she knew that even when he was turned away from her, he was still conscious of exactly where she was and what she was doing. It had the most intense impact on her. In turn, it had made her acutely aware—sensitive to his every move.
But he’d made none to her. He’d waited. She’d talked with others, well aware he was watching. But he still didn’t speak. Other guys did—spinning lines right in front of him and she’d turned them down, just as she’d turned all of them down in the last couple of years. Just as she would’ve turned him down if he’d made that move. Or so she’d told herself.
But he hadn’t made that move and her discomfort—her rebellion—had increased.
One night she’d played at saying yes to another, just to see Hunter’s reaction. To see whether she could provoke him. He’d still said nothing, done nothing, just watched and ultimately she’d done nothing either. She didn’t like herself for using the other guy and she’d not even kissed him in the end. She’d not kissed any other guy in months and months. Which meant she was frustrated.
It was all Hunter Shaw’s fault.
Even though she’d known he’d been hot for her, there hadn’t been jealousy in his eyes, instead he had a way of compelling honesty from her just with a look. And still he hadn’t spoken or made a move. She’d finally understood why. He was waiting for her to come to him.
Night after night after night she’d resisted. She’d not turned and made a play for him. She’d not even talked to him and Luisa talked with effervescence to all her patrons. But not Hunter. She’d seen him—watched him—and she’d wanted him, so much so that she’d dreamed of him. In the end she knew she wasn’t going to be able to resist much longer.
So she’d done the only thing she could. She’d run.
She’d gotten good at running in these last few years but this time had been different. This time had been more desperate. This time had been the most difficult.
And now he was here. On her safe island.
He walked right up to the bar, stood directly opposite her and captured her complete attention.
He had unfathomable, unforgettable eyes that absorbed all the light, leaving only seductive darkness. They seemed to see everything, yet revealed nothing. They were the kind you could sink into and lose yourself for days. She’d dreamed of his eyes every single night in the six months since she’d first seen him. Now they were focused on her. And she’d been hanging around romantic honeymooners too long already because the schmalzy thoughts?
He scared her.
Not physically. While he was all muscle, she knew it was all protective. That was the little she knew of his job—some secret security stuff. A job that needed strength and discretion and she knew he looked for threat and risk in every situation.
There was plenty of threat and risk for her right now. So much she leaned against the bar for support, her legs empty and shaking. Why was he here? Scratch that, she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to talk to him. In all that time in New York she’d barely spoken to him.
She’d had good reasons for that.
But he was her only customer and there was no way she could legitimately avoid him. Worse, there was at least a half hour or so before lunch was served and the remaining guests would emerge and want a refreshing drink. Which meant half an hour with no other customers to attend to. Usually in this time she put away the freshly delivered coffee supplies. Usually her heart wasn’t racing.
For a long moment they just looked at each other. She—like he—watched and waited. As far as she was concerned it was her turn to say nothing and his turn to speak—he was the one who’d come here after all. Yet she couldn’t cope with the tension escalating within her.
“Would you like a coffee or something stronger?” She pulled on her biggest smile and aimed to fake it. What she should have done from the start. But she could so do with something stronger than coffee right now.
“Don’t treat me like one of your customers.”
“What are you then, if not my customer?”
The corner of his mouth tilted up. “Someone more.”
She gritted her teeth.
“Do you know what I do, Luisa?” he asked with a hint of roughness in his voice. “I find people. People who don’t want to be found. People who can’t be found. They’re my specialty.” He eyeballed her, that hint of satisfaction still on his lips. “And now I’ve found you.”
“Why?” A chill slithered down her spine. Maybe he hadn’t come here for himself? Maybe someone had asked him to find her? “Who’s looking for me?”
She didn’t want anyone to have come for her—not her family. She hated the thought that she might have worried them that much.
He regarded her steadily. “Just me.”
She breathed out gently, trying not to reveal her tension but she knew he saw it anyway. He’d always seen too much.
“Why’d you run away from New York?”
“I didn’t run away,” she answered too quickly.
“You walked out early on your contract. Chelsea covered for you, but I know you couldn’t handle it anymore.”
“Handle what?”
He looked at her steadily, letting the silence—the intensity pulling between them—speak.
“My contract was up.” She cleared her throat, the lie clogging it. “It was time for me to move on.”
That’s what she liked to do—interesting jobs in exotic locations for short periods of time. And she had an amazing skill set as a result.
He didn’t reply, his bottomless eyes compelling truth from her.
“I like traveling,” she emphasized through gritted teeth. And she worked her way around the world—most in hospitality jobs because she liked being near lots of people. Preferably happy people. Which ruled Mr Dour here out of contention.
She was determined to be happy and positive and make the most of her life. Because you never knew when it might be snatched from you. She’d learned that one too well. She straightened from the bar, unable to handle his intensity anymore. “If you don’t need anything more, I have to attend to—”
“You’re gonna run away again? Why?”
She froze. Sometimes offense was the best defense.
“Will your face break if you smile?” she asked crossly. “You’re scaring off my customers.” Never mind that there were no customers right now.
“Am I scaring you?” he asked quietly.
“No.” Her answer was both true, and untrue.
He kept looking at her.
“Stare all you like,” she snapped. “I’m not going to change my answer.”
“Sometimes it’s my job to scare people.”
“Are you a contract killer?”
He hesitated, then half-winked. “Of course not.”
“Just a stalker.”
“In a way. Maybe.” He suddenly laughed.
That laugh nearly felled her—the accompanying smile changed his expression entirely. He looked younger, liberated from tension—and somehow he looked satisfied. That hint of arrogant amusement kindled something within her.
“All those nights you were there,” she couldn’t resist asking him, needing to hear his reason. “Watching the pizza parlor.”
“Watching out for you.”
“I didn’t need you to do that for me.”
“Maybe not, but I enjoyed it anyway.”
“You have a ‘gotta-be-a-hero’ syndrome?”
“It’s my job to check security and I needed to help Chelsea and Xander on that job. It wasn’t all about you.”
Chelsea was the sweet woman who’d hired her to run that pop-up pizza parlor, and Xander, the gorgeous, genuine hunk of a man who’d do anything for her.
“But I was the one you watched.” She wasn’t letting him off entirely.
“Only a fool doesn’t appreciate beauty. I’m not a fool.”
“Now you’re trying to flatter me.”
“I don’t need to flatter you.”
Could he look any more smug? The glimpses of his rare humor intrigued her.
“So why are you here now?” she asked. “Not sure if you’ve noticed, but the crime rate here is pretty low. You still think a skinny-assed girl like me needs protecting somehow?”
“Everyone needs protecting somehow. Even big, brawny boys like me.”
Did he just call himself a boy? Did he just crack a joke?
“It might surprise you to learn that some people are really good at taking care of themselves.” She’d become very, very good at that.
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