by Talia Hunter
Table of Contents
Epilogue
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Thanks For Reading!
Also by Talia Hunter
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Boss With Benefits
A Lantana Island Romance
Talia Hunter
For my parents. You guys rock.
Contents
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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Thanks For Reading!
Also by Talia Hunter
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
“No good deed goes unpunished.”
- Clare Boothe Luce (author, politician, ambassador, and nineteenth century badass.)
Rosa Carlton pulled her suitcase off the ferry and let out a low whistle. With its white sand beach and tropical palm trees, Lantana Island looked like a postcard. Her new home had to be one of the most beautiful places in the world.
It was also 2,000 miles from Sydney. But nobody could say Rosa had moved to Fiji because she was running from her problems, or that she’d left home because of Otto. Not at all. And if Otto hadn’t scared her away, then Rosa wasn’t a coward.
No, Rosa had come to the Lantana Island Resort because her friend Tiny owned this place, and Tiny needed her. She’d come to save the day.
Before she came, Rosa had deleted hundreds of books from her e-reader, only keeping the ones with badass female heroines. On the flight over, she’d re-read a novel starring Anne Bonny, a real-life female pirate, only instead of calling her a pirate, they’d used the word freebooter. Rosa loved that word. It sounded free and fearless. And what was the freebooter name Rosa had come up with on the plane over? Rosa Roughknuckles, that was it. It had a definite ring to it.
A sound came from behind her and Rosa whirled around, her heart jumping in her chest and a shriek forcing itself from her throat. But it was just someone else getting off the ferry at Lantana Island. A pretty woman with long, curly red hair.
“You okay?” asked the woman, putting her suitcase down to push a strand of wind-swept hair out of her eyes. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Not your fault. I’m a little jumpy.” Dragging in a deep breath to calm her speeding heart, Rosa stuck out her hand. “I’m Rosa.”
“Suzie.” The redhead was wearing a red sundress to match her hair, and dozens of bangles that jangled as they shook hands. Dammit, she looked more like a freebooter than Rosa did. Swashbuckling Suzie, flame-haired adventurer. Yup, it suited her perfectly.
“I love your accent.” Suzie was obviously American. “You’re from Australia?”
Rosa nodded. “Sydney.”
“It’s lovely here, isn’t it?”
Rosa glanced at the white sand beach running to the left of the wharf. A line of small round huts with thatched roofs edged the coastline, spaced far enough apart for privacy. They were called ‘bures’, Rosa had learned, and there were fourteen of them. Each was surrounded by palm trees, with a small veranda in front so the guests staying there could sit outside and gaze over the water.
“Beautiful,” she agreed.
There were a few people lying on the beach, slowly melting into their beach towels. One was a big man with a shaved head, and Rosa’s heart kicked up again when she spotted him. But that was just silly. Otto was in Sydney so she didn’t need to keep her eyes peeled for him anymore. She should also stop freaking out any time she was startled.
“I’d have thought someone from the resort would be here to meet us.” Suzie looked down the empty wharf with a frown. Behind them, the ferry that had dropped them off was pulling away. It would stop in at a few other island resorts before heading back to Port Denarau on the mainland.
“Let’s say that I’m here to meet you,” said Rosa. “My friend owns the resort, but she’s not well so I’ve come to take over managing the place. This is my first day at work.”
“Looks like a lovely place to work.”
“Doesn’t it? Let’s go and find a reception desk.” She led Suzie down the wharf, carrying her duty-free bag, with her suitcase clunking along behind her. “Will you be staying long?” she asked.
“Not long. My sister’s getting married here on Saturday.”
A wedding on Saturday? Rosa made a mental note. Hopefully Tiny had made all the arrangements for the wedding before she’d had the stroke. If she hadn’t, Rosa’s first week on the job would be mighty interesting. Or downright impossible. Either way, she’d find out soon enough.
Beside the wharf, the water was clear enough to see small fish darting through the big wooden posts. Rosa was watching them as she walked, so when Suzie stopped abruptly, she almost ran into her.
“The handle’s come off my suitcase,” said Suzie with a frown.
“Well, how about you leave it here while we find the office? Once you’re checked in, I’ll have someone collect your suitcase and bring it to your room.”
“Would you? Thanks.” Suzie left her bag and they walked to the end of the wharf, then followed the crushed-shell path through the trees, their sandals making crunching noises with each step. The path meandered behind the guest bures that lined the beach.
“There.” Rosa spotted a sign that pointed them toward another small building. When they pushed open the door and went in, it was cool and dark compared to the brightness of outside. The long, low reception desk was clearly where they were supposed to check in, but currently unmanned. Not a staff member in sight.
Except for Rosa.
She put her bags down, slid behind the desk, and checked the computer. Nobody even knew she’d arrived, and here she was, helping herself to the resort’s reservation system. Still, that’s what she was here for. Rosa Roughknuckles to the rescue, doing what she did best.
“Looks like you’re in Bure 5,” she told Suzie. Only she had no idea where the room keys were kept or whether the room was ready for a new occupant. She thought fast. “How about you head to the bar for a drink, and I’ll figure out if your room’s been made up. I’ll come and get you when I know for sure.”
“Sounds like a plan. Here comes my first cocktail for the week. One thing’s for sure, it won’t be the last.” Reaching for the door handle, Suzie added, “Thanks for sorting things out for me.”
Rosa watched Suzie
leave, and saw her almost collide with someone who was coming in. Then a man filled the door frame, and for a moment he was little more than a large silhouette with the light behind him. Though she kept reminding herself Otto was miles away, Rosa’s heart still lurched.
The man was shirtless, wearing only a pair of faded jeans and battered running shoes. In one hand he held an evil-looking machete.
Rosa tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly bone dry. She felt herself shrink against the chair, glad to be behind the desk. Could Otto have sent someone here to…? No, that was ridiculous and paranoid. There had to be a rational explanation.
As the man strode toward her, she forced her eyes up from the man’s machete, over the rippling muscles of his stomach, to his face.
The hard, masculine lines of the man’s cheeks and jaw were softened by his full lips and thick eyebrows. One of his eyebrows had a scar cutting through it, making it look like it was broken in two. She liked the rugged look it gave him, and the dissymmetry that made his face interesting.
His dark eyes were framed by long black lashes, and his forehead was creased into a frown. His black hair was short at the sides and longer, almost shaggy, at the top. A few wayward strands of hair hung over his forehead, tickling the top of his broken eyebrow. He was unshaven, and the stubble on his chin dialed his face up from seriously handsome to utterly swoon-worthy.
Or he would be, if he weren’t frowning at her while clutching a deadly weapon.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“Um.” Rosa found her voice with an effort. “Hi. I’m Rosa, the new resort manager.”
The man’s frown darkened. He leaned over the reception desk, his voice a low and dangerous growl. “The hell you are.”
Rosa gaped up at him, too shocked to answer for a moment. Then she swallowed and lifted her chin. Fearless, remember?
Besides, the man wasn’t wearing a staff uniform. Not unless nipples, rippling six-packs, and foot-long knives were part of the dress code. And she happened to know that the resort only had one male employee: a maintenance man called Winston. If this was Winston, he was being incredibly rude. If he wasn’t Winston, then he was either a deranged guest, or a time-travelling buccaneer straight from the pages of her Anne Bonny novel.
No, he had to be Winston. Which meant he was officially an ass-wipe. In fact, that was his pirate name. Captain Ass-Wipe.
“Tiny hired me,” she said, putting some steel into her voice. As the resort’s new manager, she would be Winston’s boss. A thought that would be a lot more comforting if he weren’t carrying the machete.
The man shook his head, his lip curled as though he’d caught her out in a lie. “Tiny couldn’t have hired you. She’s not well enough to employ anyone.”
“Which is why I came. We’re old friends and she needs someone to run the resort.”
“You’re a friend of Tiny’s?” He looked her up and down as though the information had only made the situation worse.
Rosa rose to her feet, keeping the reception desk between them. She was still at least half a foot shorter than him, but at least now his machete wasn’t at eye level. “That’s right. And I’d like to see her right away.”
His gaze dropped to her duty-free carry bag beside the reception desk. He stared at the bottle of champagne poking out of it and his eyes grew harder and colder than the blade in his hand.
“No need to unpack,” he snarled. “You won’t be here long.”
2
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.” Rosa tried to keep her tone civil. If the man thought his rudeness would shake her, he’d never met her parents. Eighteen years with them, then ten years in the hospitality industry dealing with all kinds of rude people, meant it took more than Captain Ass-Wipe to make her lose her cool.
“I’m Dalton.” He tossed his name at her as though it should mean something.
And she’d opened her mouth to ask for more information, when suddenly his name did mean something.
Dalton was Tiny’s brother’s name.
Rosa’s legs felt weak.
At school, Tiny hadn’t liked to talk about her brother. All anyone knew about him was that he’d briefly attended a boy’s school and been friendly with the brothers of some girls in their class. Then he’d vanished. Rumors had flown around their all-girl school, ranging from him having run away after getting a girl pregnant to having been killed in some gruesome accident, the details of which got gorier with each retelling. Some girls had sworn he’d murdered someone and was serving thirty years to life.
If Tiny had put the record straight at the time, the speculation wouldn’t have got so crazy. But she’d been tight-lipped, and Rosa got the impression she was suppressing some deep-seated hurt.
It wasn’t until after they’d left school that Tiny had said she and her brother were back in contact. After that, the rift between them must have been healed, because Tiny had started smiling whenever she mentioned him.
And now here he was. A mythical creature finally made flesh.
“You’re Tiny’s brother,” she blurted. After having heard so many rumors about him, it felt like saying, “You’re the Loch Ness Monster.”
“That’s right.”
“What are you doing with that?” She nodded at his machete.
He glanced down at the knife, eyebrows raised, as though he’d forgotten he was carrying it. “I was cutting vegetation back from the path when I saw people arriving off the ferry.”
No wonder his chest was glistening with a light sheen of perspiration. Not that she wanted to notice Captain Ass-Wipe’s chest, or the gorgeous definition of his muscles and the way they caught the light.
“How exactly did my sister hire you?” His accent sounded like Tiny’s. Which was to say, it was like her own accent, except for his pronunciation of certain words. Most likely a hint of the Fijian way of speaking.
“I spoke to the resort’s housekeeper. A woman called Mere.”
As though on cue, the door opened and a woman was silhouetted against the brightness of the day. When she walked in, Rosa got an immediate impression of brisk efficiency.
“Speak of the devil,” said Dalton in a dry tone. He put the machete down and leaned against the reception desk with his arms folded. His dark, buccaneer’s eyes were hostile. What the hell was his problem?
Mere shot him a startled look. She was a pretty Fijian woman with her long, dark hair tied back in a bun. “Bula,” she said, smiling at Rosa.
That was Fijian for ‘hello’, Rosa remembered. “Bula,” she said back.
“It’s nice to meet you in person, Rosa. I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier.” Mere had a beautiful speaking voice, with a musical lilt to her words, and rounded, almost British vowels. “A pipe in Bure Twelve was leaking. There was water everywhere, so I needed to clean another room to move the guests.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“You did this, Mere?” Dalton motioned to Rosa, making it clear that she was the bad thing Mere had done. There was probably a way Dalton could be ruder, but Rosa couldn’t figure out how.
“I’m right here,” Rosa muttered under her breath. Crossing her own arms, she mimicked his stance.
Mere raised her eyebrows. “Tiny wanted Rosa to come. Didn’t she talk to you about it?”
“Of course she didn’t. I told you to cancel all the bookings you could and not accept any new ones. Let alone hire new staff.”
“But Tiny said—”
“You understand that Tiny needs to rest? I don’t want you talking about this place with her or letting her worry about anything. You have any questions about that, come and see me.”
Mere pressed her lips together and folded her arms in front of her. Now all three of them were facing each other with their arms crossed, wearing matching stubborn expressions. A triangle of mulishness. If Rosa hadn’t travelled two thousand miles to be here, she might have found it funny.
“Where’s Tiny?” asked Rosa. “I’d like to see
her.”
Dalton shook his head. “She had a physical therapy session this morning and she needs to sleep.”
Rosa dragged in her breath. She’d given up her job, moved out of her apartment, and come half way across the world to help her friend. Now Dalton was telling her she couldn’t see Tiny? She wouldn’t accept that. Tiny needed her. And if he thought she was going to give up and go home, he had no idea who he was dealing with.
“You may not want me here, but Tiny obviously does.” She met his dark eyes, making sure her tone was calm. “She wants me to run her resort, so that’s what I intend to do. If nobody had the time to meet me or the other guest off the ferry, it’s clear you need help. And what about Saturday’s wedding? Are you ready for it?”
Dalton turned his frown onto Mere. “You didn’t cancel it?”
“I couldn’t cancel a wedding two weeks out from the event, when it was already paid for.” Mere looked from Dalton to her and back again. “I’m not sure how much of it Tiny had finished organizing before she got sick. I have my own work to do so I haven’t been able to check through everything.”
Rosa kept her gaze on Dalton. “I can handle the wedding and anything else that comes up.” Amazing how she could sound so certain. Did she really just promise to run a wedding that was in five days? What if Tiny hadn’t organized any of it before she got sick?
Dalton measured her from head to toe, his mouth pressed tight. As often as she’d been judged like that when she was growing up, the weight of it still made her breath freeze in her lungs. Then she lifted her chin. Screw him. Tiny’s delinquent brother would just have to take his pretty-boy sneer, fold it into squares, and insert it into his unfairly-attractive posterior.