Rick had taken risks, had taken them all the time. He also controlled everything and everyone around him. It was why he was so successful in business and so ruthless in marriage. Her boy was okay, and Rick hadn’t found them. Another good day down.
“Earth to Cate. Come in, Cate.” Mark frowned at her as they sat on the patio near the pool going over this month’s bills.
“I’m sorry, I...”
“Was a million miles away,” Mark said, sounding stern. “Am I the only one around here worried about the bills?”
“No. Of course not.” She hesitated, realizing that with all the hubbub with Avery, she’d forgotten about Terry Blake. “Hey. I talked to Terry Blake. He mentioned he talked to you about selling the resort.”
Mark scowled. “That guy is full of it. Believe me, he knows better than to talk to me. I’d tell him where to go and how to get there.”
Cate felt relief. “I didn’t think so, but he seemed so sure.”
Mark shook his head. “If you want to sell, then we sell. I’m not going to be strong-armed by Terry freakin’ Blake. He was probably just trying to get into your head. Make you want to sell.”
“That’s true.” Cate nodded. “It’s how he operates.”
“So, now that’s out of the way, how about we focus on how we keep this place open. How about this new fund-raiser?” Mark tapped the stack of brightly colored flyers he’d drawn up, designed to attract spring break kids from the local resorts.
“I don’t know, Mark. Drunk college kids?” Cate shook her head. It wasn’t what she envisioned for her resort, which she always wanted to be elegant with a touch of class. The idea of kids—probably most of them underage for the States, though legal here—swigging cheap cocktails was never something she’d planned on.
“Beggars can’t be choosers, Cate. We’re in the red. We need something and spring break won’t last forever.”
“I know. I know. Okay... I guess, go ahead.”
“Good, because we’re on for a party tonight.” Mark shuffled his flyers.
“Mark! You didn’t tell me!” Cate protested.
“I knew you’d have to say yes,” Mark said. “We don’t have a choice if we want to pay our utilities this month.”
Cate sighed. She knew Mark was right. He always was. “Why don’t you take these,” he said and handed her a stack. “Go put them up around town today.”
She sighed again. “Okay.”
“I’ve already gotten the word out online,” he told her.
“Mark!” she protested.
“Don’t worry—nothing that can be traced back to you or me, okay? I was careful.”
Cate suddenly felt exposed. Yet she trusted Mark. He knew what he was doing. She owed her and her boy’s life to him, after all. “Okay, Mark. Okay.”
“It’ll be fine,” he promised, and she hoped he was right. “I’ve got to go check with Carol about the appetizers for tonight.” Cate nodded. “And Grace is watching Avery tonight. No buts. She’s already on babysitting duty. We’ll need you down on the floor. We need all the bartenders we can get.”
“Great,” Cate said, feeling the opposite. The last thing she wanted to do all night was sling cheap cocktails.
“Remember, it’s to save your baby. Our baby.” Mark spread his arms to encompass the resort, and Cate reluctantly nodded. She knew it was for a good cause. She wanted this to work, too. Something had to.
Cate glanced at the neon-pink flyer in her hand advertising cheap mixed drinks and karaoke. God, she’d officially become one of those resorts. She shook her head.
Just then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a streak of tanned torso.
Tack.
She knew before she turned it was him. After all, who else at the resort had the body of a Viking god? No one.
“Eye candy, huh?” Mark hadn’t left, and he was watching her stare openly at Tack, who was currently strolling to the pool wearing only swim trunks and flip-flops, his eyes hidden by aviator sunglasses and his dark hair in thick waves that curled around his ears. She tried to imagine him with a marine’s flattop, but couldn’t. His hair was too good. It would be a shame to cut it.
Actually, she wanted to run her fingers through it right then.
Or put her hands on his bare chest, which was art worthy. His muscles sculpted themselves.
“Uh, no... I...” Cate suddenly felt flustered. The last person she wanted grief from was Mark.
“Don’t worry. I had a chat with your boyfriend at the bar last night.”
“What? He’s not my...” Cate’s neck felt like it was on fire.
“Don’t worry. He likes you, too. It’s obvious he’s got a thing for you.” Mark gave her a playful shove with his elbow.
“Why? What did he say?” Cate suddenly felt like a preteen passing notes in class.
“Nothing. I just told him to be nice to you, or I’d beat him up.”
Cate burst out laughing. Mark was no match for Tack, and they both knew it.
“Hey, I think he was mildly threatened.”
Cate squeezed his arm. “You’re a good man, Mark.”
“Don’t I know it? Anyway, I think he does like you. For what it’s worth. Most of the time he can’t take his eyes off you. Like he’s trying to figure you out.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”
Cate stared at Mark. “Are you giving me permission to date? Does this mean you’ve already run a background check?”
If anything, Mark always erred on being overprotective.
“I haven’t yet, but why don’t I get on that. In the meantime, flirting never hurt anybody.” He grinned and headed away from her, whistling as he went.
Cate glanced over at Tack and was shocked to find he was staring straight at her.
Was Mark right?
She glanced away, uncomfortable. When she looked up again, he was still...staring. Almost daring her to come over there. Boy, did she want to. She wanted to sprint over, wanted to feel the thick muscles of his shoulders. He picked a reclining chair near the edge of the pool and sat on it, then stretched his golden body across its blue-striped length. She felt an irresistible pull toward him. But what would she do when she got there? Ask him if he needed help applying sunscreen? She nearly giggled at the thought. She could almost see the next one-star Yelp review for the resort: Owner sexually harasses pool patrons.
Then again, he had kissed her on the boat. Then bought her lunch. Then rescued her son from nearly falling out of a tree.
It’s not like he hadn’t expressed interest.
So why was he over there? And not here?
He was simply lying by the pool. She felt sure he’d seen her when he’d come out. After all, she was only about thirty feet from him. But why did she get the impression he was taunting her to come over? Daring her to make the first move this morning?
It felt like a delicious little game of cat and mouse.
As he shifted his gorgeous body beneath the morning sun, she thought she could stare at him all day. And probably night, too. He was a capital M, Man. Like none she’d remembered meeting before. Sure, good-looking guys came in and out of the resort all the time, but one so tall...so decidedly...in charge? Never. She felt a flush creep up her neck as she debated about going over there.
What would she say?
It’s not like she had a lot of experience hitting on gorgeous men. Or even ugly men. She had no game. She’d not even considered getting one, not since fleeing Rick. Now, there was Tack, and she wanted something, she realized. To flirt? More?
And what did she even know about him? Other than he was gorgeous. And smart. And kind. Ugh. She wasn’t even over there, and she was already trying to fall in love with the man. What was
wrong with her? Cate watched as he sat up and stretched, and she nearly felt her jaw drop open as she saw her answer. One man simply shouldn’t have so many muscles.
She gathered her papers and realized she would have to pass by his chair if she ever wanted to leave the pool area. Not that she did right at the moment. Staring at Tack, she forgot what other things she was supposed to be doing right at that instant. Hanging flyers in town? Was that it?
Maybe she should go over and thank him once more for Avery? Then again, that might be overkill. He saved the boy from a tree, not a great white.
Okay. Just go over there. Say hi. Then leave. How hard can it be?
Cate smoothed the folds of her faded blue sundress and walked over to Tack. It all seemed so straightforward—stop, say hi and move on.
Before she could speak, Tack spoke. “What are you doing tonight?”
The offer made her feel all warm inside. Was he asking her out? Then, of course, she remembered her obligations.
“This,” she said, and sighed as she held up the garish flyer.
“‘Spring Break Fest’?” Tack read aloud and shook his head. “Free mai tais for the ladies?” Tack squinted. “How many people do you expect?”
“I don’t know, but Mark hopes a lot.”
“Did you hire any security?” Tack glanced around the pool.
“Security?” Cate echoed, puzzled.
“Bouncers. For when the drunk kids get out of hand.”
Cate felt her stomach sink. She hadn’t even thought of that. “No.”
“How about I help out tonight? I’ve bounced at bars before.” Tack pulled himself from his chair and now towered over her. She craned her neck to meet his gaze and had to shield her eyes from the bright sun somewhere above his chestnut brown curls.
“We don’t need to card, probably. St. Anthony’s drinking age is eighteen,” she said. “Which is why so many college kids like to come here.”
“No carding, but you still need someone to keep an eye on the rowdies.” Cate knew he’d be a cooling factor. Just having him there would discourage some from getting out of control. Kids would have to be crazy to want to tangle with him.
“But I can’t pay you. I’m...” Broke, she thought but didn’t finish. She could barely pay the maids and was another month away from having to do the job herself.
“I’ll do it free of charge,” he said quickly. “If you agree to come to my room for the after-party.”
Cate’s throat suddenly went dry. Was he asking her what she thought he was asking?
“For drinks,” he quickly added. “Just a drink. If you feel better staying at the bar, that’s fine.”
Why did she feel a suddenly clunky disappointment in the pit of her stomach? The bar was a much safer option. She didn’t even know this man! Why was she even considering going up to his room?
“So what do you say? A drink?”
“Yes,” Cate said, defying all her good sense. “We can have a drink after.”
“Good,” Tack said and took her hand, sending tiny little electric sparks in all directions. He bent over it and gave the back of it a tiny kiss, never breaking eye contact. “Can’t wait for that.”
CHAPTER NINE
THE FLYERS AND whatever other advertising Mark put into motion worked. Cate couldn’t believe the number of kids—and she definitely thought of them as kids, as most of them barely looked fifteen, much less like they should be in college. She nearly bumped into a guy who she could’ve sworn ought to be in high school.
“Sorry,” she murmured, not that she could be heard over the thumping music blaring out over the pool and to the beach. The acne-prone teen just gave her a long, slow once-over. Oh, no, she thought. There’s no possible way this child found her attractive.
He raised his glass and grinned, and she almost expected to see braces. Thankfully, he had none. That didn’t make the drunken leer on his face any less palatable, though. She scooted past him even as he sloshed his fruity drink on her stone patio tiles. She wondered how much scrubbing it would take to get all the gunk off. Already, her flip-flops were sticking to the smooth stone, and bright red splatters of spilled cocktails coated most of the tile.
Mark worked the bar, looking red and sweaty. Cate was trying to reach him to help out. She barely managed to get through the throng of thirsty partygoers.
“Whose stupid idea was this?” Mark grumbled, just loudly enough to be heard over the thump of bass from the DJ’s speakers. He flashed a wry grin as she slid in back behind the bar to help him.
“At least tell me some of these people are paying for their drinks,” Cate said. Since two-thirds were the ladies of “ladies drink free until nine,” Cate almost didn’t want to know how much they were losing on this venture.
“We’re making money, we are,” Mark said, and nodded toward the overflowing tip jar. The number of dollar bills crammed in there would at least cover the utilities this month, she figured.
“We’d better,” Cate murmured as she pushed a few more plastic cups of red liquid into the hands of eager college coeds.
“It was a good idea to hire the muscle,” Mark said, nodding toward Tack, who stood arms crossed near the DJ. He scoured the crowd with a stern look on his face. “He already broke up two fights.”
“I didn’t hire him,” Cate said. “He volunteered.”
Mark laughed and shook his head. “He must really have it bad for you, then,” he said, shouting even louder as the music amped up. Cate felt her face grow warm and was glad the dim lights of the patio hid her blush. She wondered if he’d managed to dig into Tack’s background, but also knew this wasn’t the place to ask. Besides, if he did find something, he’d let her know. Mark wasn’t one to keep secrets from her. It was one of the things that made their partnership work so well. She could always count on Mark to tell it to her straight. She believed him when he told her Terry Blake had been lying.
Cate poured the last of a pitcher of mai tai into a waiting glass and then turned to Mark, who was busy mixing a new batch. He emptied the rum bottle and glanced up at Cate.
“We’ve got more in the kitchen,” he shouted, indicating the resort with a jerk of his thumb. “Can you go get it? I’ll hold off the thirsty ones.”
As the press of college kids only seemed to get thicker at the bar, Cate knew she had no time to lose. Rum was needed—stat. She inched her way through the crowd, but found it slow going. She glanced up once and saw Tack studying the dance floor, where one skinny kid in a bright blue Hawaiian shirt was busy trying to do the worm. He’d had so much to drink, he looked more like a slug squirming in the sunlight, but Cate was sure in his own mind he was legendary. She sighed and rolled her eyes, trying to remember her own college days. She’d been working two jobs to put herself through school, so she didn’t have time to party. It had only been dumb luck she’d even met Rick. She’d happened to be working in the dean’s office, one of her many work-study jobs, when Rick Allen came in. He’d gone to Northwestern, too, and was prepared to give a hefty donation for a new building there.
Somehow, between her fetching him coffee and him approving plans for the building that would bear his name, he’d asked for her number. She’d been so caught off guard, she’d given it to him without hesitation, even though she had steadfastly fought off the boys interested in her. She didn’t have time to date. She barely had time to study.
He’d been ten years older than she was and different from any man she’d ever met. Then again, it wasn’t every day a girl met one of the youngest self-made billionaires in the world. After that, it had been a whirlwind courtship. How could she resist the amazing gifts? The sudden weekend invites to far-flung romantic locales like Paris and Rome?
He’d been such a gentleman then. Of course, his control-freak self came out in small doses—in his annoyance when she�
�d even glance at her phone in his presence, his overbearing way of ordering for her without letting her decide what she’d eat, even his insistence on picking her last semester’s courses at Northwestern. She’d just thought it was his way of taking care of her. She didn’t realize that it was all about him controlling her.
When asked once by a reporter the one thing that was the greatest challenge about running one of the world’s most successful real estate companies, he’d said, “That people have free will.”
Everyone thought he’d been joking, but Cate knew the truth. Rick would love the world better if everyone were compelled to obey him. Free will was a wrinkle in his otherwise perfect world. He hated that people could defy him.
She shook her head. When were the memories going to fade?
Suddenly, someone grabbed her arm in such a way that she thought, for a split second, somehow Rick had managed to jump from her thoughts and onto the crowded dance floor.
“Where you going, hottie?” Cate turned to find herself smushed against the drunk kid in the blue Hawaiian shirt. He reeked of mai tais and sweat, and he held her arm in an iron grip.
“Let me go,” Cate said, trying to sound like the grown-up she was, though the drunk kid was taller than her and probably had about fifty pounds on her at least. When he’d been rolling around on the floor he’d looked smaller, but up close, he was the size of a defensive tackle. She pulled away, but he held her fast.
“Dance with me!” he commanded, breathing sour rum in her face. She flinched and shoved her hands against this chest, but by now he’d wrapped both big arms around her.
“No,” Cate growled, now feeling comically small and weak as she fought uselessly against him. She felt that familiar rush of powerlessness, the same feeling she’d felt with Rick, when he’d pinned her to the floor in their living room the night he’d put her head through their glass coffee table. The panic welled up in her throat, and she started clawing at her captor, though he was too drunk to notice the scratches. “No!” she shouted, but her voice was drowned out by the thumping loud bass of the DJ as the kid pressed harder against her, pushing her chest into his. She felt like she couldn’t breathe. She was going to suffocate.
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