Rock Star's Email Order Bride

by Carlton, Demelza

  No. She couldn't stop here. Her car couldn't give up here.

  Phuong threw open the door and lurched to her feet. She inhaled a lungful of dust and found herself coughing instead of shouting at her car for quitting now, when they were so close.

  Her car canted over on one side, as if there was a ditch below the dust rampart, but Phuong couldn't see any ditch, not even when she crouched down and tried to peer under the car. No, it looked like both the tyres on the passenger side were flat and the car now rested on the wheel rims on that side. Phuong had never changed a car tyre in her life and even if she had, she didn't have two spares. Only one, maybe.

  She sank to her knees in the dirt. What to do? Should she stay with the car and hope someone else drove down the gritty track, someone kind enough to give her a lift to her destination?

  Who would be crazy enough to attempt this road? It had no street lights, no bitumen, and the sun was slowly sinking out of sight. And what if the next car was a police car, come to cart her back to Perth and...Norman...

  Phuong forced herself to her feet. If the choice was back to hell or forward into the future, she'd take the future on foot if she had to. Gritting her teeth, she hefted her bag onto her shoulder and pocketed the car keys. Her car might be a quitter, but she wasn't.

  What more could this stupid road throw at her? Cows? Crocodiles? Ha! She'd turn their skin into shoes before she'd let anything else get between her and Jason.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Two days. It took Xan two very dull days of skimming through paperwork before she felt she truly had a handle on resort operations. Profit margins were slim because expensive luxury resorts weren't in as high demand during the recent economic slump. The mining industry downturn hadn't helped matters. Fewer guests could afford the place, but rising costs meant they couldn't drop the fancy price tag.

  As for the rising costs...she could lay a lot of them firmly at Jay's door, wherever it was. Since he'd first arrived at the resort, staff turnover rates had reached a record high. One week, they'd lost ten staff – and eight of those were new hires who'd only started work that week. Smelling a rat, Xan had checked the personnel files. Sure enough, the staff were all women under thirty who'd been dismissed for fraternisation. Further research through the hotel's intranet revealed a fraternisation policy...or more accurately, a policy that said there was to be no such thing between staff and anyone on the island. The policy had been changed exactly one week after Jay's arrival, the same day as the previous activities manager had resigned.

  A meeting with the human resources officer had been illuminating. One of Jay's early conquests at the hotel had informed one of the hard-core fan sites for Jay's band that his current hideaway was hiring staff. The anonymous "Miss P" had linked the resort's advertisement for cleaning staff, with a note underneath that the only room servicing they'd actually do would involve the rock star himself. They'd hired and fired a dozen girls who couldn't even operate a vacuum cleaner before one of them whined about the job being nothing like she'd signed up for, and she clued them in about the fansite ad. Now they had no cleaning staff for the peak season, even after two rounds of applications, because the housekeeping manager flatly refused to interview anyone else.

  She'd then produced a series of increasingly heated emails between Meier and Annette, the housekeeping manager, dating back to when Jay had apparently first purchased the hotel during the peak season the previous year. Around the time of her own arrival in Broome, Xan mused, and when she'd seen the prick for the first time.

  The resort was in trouble and Jay was just the turd on the cake. She'd need a plan – two of them, probably. One to keep Jay out of her hair and maybe even get him to leave the island, and one to attract more guests to the hotel. The thought was exhilarating – for the first time, she'd get to properly use her degree and at a place as awesome as Romance Island. She almost forgave Meier for not straight out telling her about the change of position. Almost.

  The signs had all been there. He'd asked interview questions about her experience in supervising and retaining staff; working without supervision...and the kicker was when he'd seemed surprised that all she wanted to discuss about her contract was the probation period. Xan had checked the original emailed contract. Sure enough, it said she was agreeing to be the hotel manager, too. As for her visa documents...Xan grimaced. Her visa was dependent on her retaining her position as the hotel's manager. Any change effectively nullified her visa and put her on the first plane home.

  The one place in the world she didn't want to be.

  Bugger Jerome and his betrayal. If he hadn't slept with Kelly, hadn't deserted Xan and been too much of a bloody coward to tell her, she would have read everything properly. She wouldn't have missed details like agreeing to run a whole hotel instead of just their tours.

  If she told anyone how badly she'd stuffed up, she'd lose any respect the existing staff might have for her. What was an already challenging job would become downright impossible. She'd be damned before she gave up. At least, if she gave up before she found out if there really was a lagoon monster.

  Xan laughed. The sound echoed off the tiles and bare walls, but she didn't care. Some time over the last two days, she'd started thinking about the island as hers. Jerome and Kelly and Jay could go to hell for all she cared. She'd just been handed the biggest opportunity of her career, and she was going to make the most of it. Just as long as she didn't mess it up.

  That meant getting the lay of the land before she started putting plans in place. Sighing, she switched off her PC and made her way to the staff dining room. The sounds of clinking crockery and muffled laughter reached her before she stepped inside, but it already held a comfy camaraderie she'd never known at the backpackers. These staff had worked together for years, through changes in ownership and now new management. They knew the resort better than she ever could without putting in the same time and dedication, and they all had their own ideas on how the place should be run.

  Xan glanced around. Who hadn't she sat with yet? Her eyes landed on a table occupied by two men who obviously worked in IT. It was time she learned about the resort's computer system and the wristbands everyone wore. As it was, Jay knew the ID system better than she did, and that would never do. He might own the hotel, but it was her baby now.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Day three. Xan couldn't wait to get started. She'd woken a dozen times in the night with ideas about how to entice new guests to the resort. Romance Island would blossom under her care.

  She breathed in the awakening aroma from her coffee cup and gazed at the piece of paradise framed by her office window. A jetty thrusting out into the aqua-blue sea, while the teasing water licked and kissed the jetty's legs in torturous foreplay as it crept higher until it engulfed the jutting length completely in warm wetness.

  Where the hell had that come from?

  Xan felt blood rushing to her face. She should have been talking to staff at breakfast, not reading the steamy book Annette from Housekeeping had lent her yesterday. The island infrastructure shouldn't be seeing more action than she was.

  A rattling trolley broke the romance of the scene, wheeled by a girl in a maid's uniform. When she reached the end of the jetty – not its head, Xan reminded herself – she lifted a hand to her eyes to scan the water. Xan spotted it the same time as the girl: a boat skimming across the sea surface. She wasn't sure what intrigued her more – her first sight of the speeding carrier boat or the first woman under thirty she'd seen on the island in the week she'd been there.

  Down went the coffee and up she got, striding out the building and along the boat dock to where the girl waited.

  "Good morning!" Xan called, waving.

  The girl responded with a small smile and a chin lift that Xan associated more with guys greeting than girls.

  Undeterred, Xan closed the distance between them. "I'm not sure we've met. I'm Xan Lane, the new manager." She held out her hand.

  "I'm Pamela, but you don't
want to shake my hand right now, Miz Lane." Pamela dropped her gaze to her shoes. "This trolley's full of dirty linen, ready to go to the mainland on the laundry truck. Maybe when I've washed my hands. I saw you in the staff dining room the other night. Mr Meier, he never ate with the rest of us, but I think you're different." She met Xan's eyes once more and laughed a little. "You don't look old enough to be managing a whole hotel."

  "I'm probably not," Xan found herself saying. "But I managed Broome Backpackers at Cable Beach and I have a university degree in tourism management, so I am qualified." She sighed. "Meier never told me why he picked me for the job. He just left."

  Pamela grinned. "Yeah, Mr Meier didn't like the new owner, but he's wanted to leave since before that. I often overheard Mr Meier talking to Dennis in security when I was cleaning the foyer. They'd get into one of Mr Meier's bottles of rum and spill all the resort's secrets."

  "Like what?"

  Pamela just shook her head.

  Of course solving the island's mysteries wouldn't be that easy.

  "So what do you think of the new owner?" Xan persisted.

  More head-shaking. "Jay Felix is a rock star. He owns the hotel, but he doesn't run it. We do. As long as I do my job and get paid for it, it doesn't matter to me who owns the place. This was my people's land long before there was any such thing as a hotel. The lagoon was my uncle's favourite spearfishing spot until his father sold it." Pamela's eyes misted over in keeping with her faraway smile. "I might be just a cleaner here but I'm not stupid, Miz Lane. I'm going to study nursing at Charles Darwin University this year, and I need this job to pay for my books and everything. Living off the land isn't as straightforward as it was before."

  Xan couldn't seem to close her mouth. She wasn't sure whether to apologise or agree with her. Fortunately, a shout from the approaching boat ended their conversation as Baz, the skipper, insisted on being introduced.

  In the bustle of unloading and loading the boat, Xan found herself alongside Pamela, tossing laundry bags to the deck, while Baz stacked boxes onto the empty trolley.

  "These came in on one of the scenic flights yesterday. They've been sitting in town for the last week, waiting for the road to reopen, but the bottle shop got sick of storing it, so they added it to our order. Max can stop complaining about his missing rum now." He hefted one more box onto the trolley. "Hey, if you've replaced him, guess that's yours now, Xan. Don't drink it all at once."

  Rum? A whole case of the stuff? Xan hadn't drunk that much rum in her entire life.

  "Hey, have you ever been jet boating in a whirlpool, Xan?"

  Her heart leaped. Xan forgot about being the responsible manager of anything. "No. Where do I sign up? It sounds awesome." She could always work late, or through her lunch break, to make up the time. And it sort of was work, familiarising herself with the resort's supply lines between the island and the mainland...

  Baz jerked his head at the carrier boat. "I got time now. I'm headed back to the farm to meet the truck, but they only reopened the road this morning, so the truck's at least an hour away. The tide's just right, too. Bet you've never seen anything like the Kimberley tides where you're from."

  With a deafening clatter, Pamela began pushing the trolley back up the jetty toward the resort.

  "In the UK, no, but I managed the backpackers at Cable Beach before I came here." Xan feasted her eyes on the ocean she'd never, ever get enough of. "If more people from home could see this place, they'd never leave. The UK would be empty."

  Baz chuckled. "Yeah, most of the British explorers couldn't get enough of this part of the country. Lots of 'em died trying to tame it, too. Can't tame the Kimberley." He shoved the last two laundry bags in a storage locker and slammed it shut. "Grab a seat in the bow. You'll want to hang on when we get to Pearl Passage. It's a wild ride with the tide coming in."

  Xan climbed aboard and straddled one of the seats at the front of the boat, glad she'd chosen to wear pants today. The boat was basically a giant inflatable with a carpeted deck. And cushy foam rollercoaster seats.

  Baz cast off and eased the boat away from the jetty until it pointed at the distant mainland. "Hold on!" he shouted as the engine's contented purr rose into a challenging roar. For a moment, they skimmed across the surface of the water, mounting a cresting wave before flying over the top to bump into the trough between it and the next. A spume of spray soaked Xan to the skin, but she just laughed as she rode the best rollercoaster she'd ever seen. Wind plastered her shirt to her chest. She was doubly glad she'd braided her hair today or she'd look like she wore a seaweed wig when she returned to her office. Ah, what would it matter? She'd need to shower off the salt, anyway. But later. Later, because right now she intended to just enjoy the moment, zipping across the water like a flying fish as the rust and cream layered cliffs grew closer.

  The boat slowed, idling like the world's biggest aquatic motorcycle, and Baz bellowed, "The farm just radioed to say they need me to head straight back. You okay to come with me? You won't be stuck on the mainland for more than an hour or so, when I do the next island supply run, or I can get Shou to run you back in the helicopter."

  "It's fine!" she shouted back. She might as well see the facilities on the mainland and meet the rest of the staff at the pearl farm. Her plans for the resort would involve them, too.

  "We're going into King Sound now, and the tide's coming in, so it's going to get a bit rough. You'll need to hold on until we get through the whirlpools. They're pretty unpredictable. I'll do my best to get you close without going in, but that means turning suddenly. You ready?"

  Xan pried one white-knuckled hand off the bar to signal a diver's okay in the air above her head. Even if she wasn't, there was no way on Earth she'd back down now. Hell, she wanted to get behind the wheel of this baby herself, though it was probably safest that she didn't. She was a dive master, not a boat master. If ever an experience made her want to change that...

  Baz rounded the cliffs and the boat accelerated, carried by the racing tide. He swerved and sent the boat careening around the edge of a spectacular vortex before the surface smoothed like a placid lake, only for turbulence to swirl another into being directly ahead of them. Xan tipped sideways, holding on for dear life, as Baz dodged around rocks and whirlpools, whooping at the top of his lungs.

  Not that Xan was any quieter, but she cherished the hope that Baz would be a gentleman about it and not tell the resort staff that she was a screamer. Who needed sex when adrenaline-pumping whirlpool surfing was part of your normal work day?

  The warmth of the sun heated her skin as the demanding wind caressed her body through her clothes. The bass rumble of the engine thrummed until her bones vibrated right along with it, the sheer power of all of it fighting with the mighty ocean for control over her body, thrusting her deep into her seat like an impatient lover who would not be denied. She felt like she'd swallowed a case of champagne, but the taste of salt on her lips told her otherwise. No sex was this good.

  Xan sat back, laughing quietly to herself. She felt the boat slow, but the steamy humidity that settled on her as they approached the farm didn't make it easy for her to catch her breath. She fanned her face, hoping Baz didn't notice, but as he pulled up in the shallows Xan found him at her side, offering a hand to help her off the boat. She accepted his assistance, staggering to her feet on rubbery legs that felt like she'd run...no, engaged in a marathon of a very different sort.

  "Was it as good for you as it was for me?" Baz asked.

  Xan couldn't wipe the grin off her face as she replied, "Oh no, it was better."

  She burst out laughing when Baz blushed bright red.

  They parted on a pretty lawn beside the pool, with Baz promising to come get her when it was time to leave again. In the meantime, maybe she'd like to grab a drink in the restaurant upstairs?

  The pearl farm restaurant wasn't open yet, but the manager offered to make Xan a coffee anyway, which she gratefully accepted. Ambrosia – especially after leavin
g her first coffee back on her desk at the resort. The thrilling ride had been worth it, plus she still had the trip home to look forward to. Xan hoped she'd have the stamina for a second round on the jet boat.

  She glanced at the TV in the corner, recognising one of the morning shows that was equal parts news and sales pitch for whatever products paid to advertise with them. Today's news was about the stupid but tragic things tourists did when they didn't understand the harsh environment out here. A couple of backpackers' bodies had been found, drowned in a flooded river south of Hedland. The frowning news anchor said they were still looking for a third tourist whose body hadn't yet been found, though she was seen travelling with the other two.

  Xan shook her head. She didn't want to hear any more. Too many tourists took risks that cost them their lives. Driving onto a flooded road was more dangerous than you realised, if you didn't know how deep it was. She didn't want to see the faces of this bunch of unfortunates – what if they were guests she'd met at the Broome Backpackers?

  Nodding her thanks to the manager, she left the restaurant and perched on a rock beside the horizon pool. She wanted to get back to Romance Island. There was so much to do.

  As if he'd read her mind, Baz appeared at the top of the steps. To be fair, just his head appeared, huffing and puffing, then his torso, several thumping steps later, followed by the rest of him, half leaning on the handrail and thoroughly out of breath. He took his time recovering before he said, "Right. Next time I'm going to shout at you from the boat ramp below. We're just loading the boat up now. Should be fifteen, maybe twenty minutes, and we'll be on our way back. And...I've got a passenger. New staff member headed out to the hotel for the first time. Her car broke down on the road a ways back, so she didn't arrive until this morning in the laundry truck. Come and I'll introduce you." He waved her over and started down the steps again.