Ignoring a smirk from Roy, Chris shut his laptop and walked over.
It was a pretty good likeness, he decided. A bit romanticized, his brow a little too noble, but she’d gotten the pilothouse right. As Chris watched, the woman licked her empty ring finger and smudged his cheekbones, adding depth.
She had his photograph on her phone and was working from that.
Chris bent low. “Don’t I have to sign a model release?”
The woman shrieked, spilling her soda. She snatched the sketchbook, scrambled sideways, and tripped on the leg of her chair. Sketchbook, artist, soda, and chair all landed in a soggy heap on the ground.
“Are you OK?” Chris tossed the chair to one side. “Can you get up?” He grasped the woman under her armpits and lifted. But, no, that was wrong. If she’d hurt herself, she ought to lie down. Chris looked around urgently for someplace to set a soft woman. A very soft woman. He blinked. With very brown eyes.
“I’m good.” She gripped his biceps. “I’m fine.”
Chris held her, mesmerized. Brown eyes, with tiny flecks of green. He caught a whiff of chlorine mixed with herb shampoo. The heels of his hands, he noticed, were very close to her breasts.
“Seriously.” She squirmed, shoving against him. “I can stand!”
Chris’ skin tingled. He couldn’t seem to let go.
An old man began huffing toward them.
The woman stopped squirming and gazed directly at Chris. “I…um….” Her fingertips brushed his arm. “Wow.” She blushed. “I mean….”
The man thumped Chris on the shoulder. “What the hell?”
Chris released the woman and turned. A gasping, red-faced senior citizen stood waving a putting iron.
“What the hell is this?” The old man raised his club.
Chris stepped in front of the woman.
“Daddy!” She ducked around and made a grab for his wrist. “Daddy, stop!”
Daddy? Chris gulped. “Ah….”
“It’s OK, Dad. I tripped.” The woman blushed harder. “This guy was just being polite.”
“That wasn’t—” Her father struggled for breath. “That wasn’t what it looked like!”
That wasn’t what it felt like, either. Chris felt his own face flush. He turned hastily to pick up the chair. “Would you like to sit down?”
“What I’d like….” The man’s wish to beat Chris’ brains out went unspoken. His face drained of color.
“Daddy!” The young woman sprang forward.
Chris caught the man’s arm and helped him into a chair.
“We need an ambulance.” The woman grabbed her phone. “Quick!”
“Nonsense!” her father snapped. “Put that away.”
“He just had heart surgery. He could die!”
An unfamiliar impulse swept over Chris. A desire to slay dragons, hunt bison, and telephone ambulances for this girl. Anything to take the fear out of her eyes. He reached for his own phone.
Except….
Except Chris had seen plenty of emergencies at the resort. He wasn’t a doctor, but he volunteered for St. John’s tiny crisis-response team. He knew that overreacting could be as hard on patients as not acting quickly enough.
Also, he had the crazy feeling he’d need this man’s approval.
“Let’s wait three minutes.” Chris pulled out a chair for the daughter. “If you’re still worried, I’ll call an ambulance then.”
The woman sat reluctantly. “OK.” She bent to get her sketchbook, shook drops of cola off its pages, and placed the book, firmly closed, on the table beside her.
Chris was gripped by the sudden urge to flip through it. Had she sketched other men in those pages? Were their portraits as flattering as his? If I rip out the other guys’ pictures and shred them, will she notice? He took a seat next to the father. “Sorry about causing so much trouble.” He offered his hand. “I’m Chris.”
“George Williams.” The man looked better already. “This is my daughter, Anna.”
Anna. “That’s a beautiful name.”
“Glad you approve,” Mr. Williams said dryly. “I got it from my dad.”
“Oh. Right.” Chris mentally kicked himself. “Me, too. Chris, I mean. Obviously.”
Roy chose that moment to bring a fresh cola for the girl. He set a tumbler of water in front of Mr. Williams and cocked a mocking eyebrow at Chris.
“Thanks.” Chris glared at his friend. “Put it on my tab.”
“I’ll do that.” Roy placed Chris’ own drink in front of him. “Smooth move,” he murmured. “Very smooth.”
“Thanks, Roy. See you later.”
Anna studied her dad for a moment and then, relaxing slightly, turned to Chris. “We saw you on your boat.” She slid the sketchbook self-consciously onto her lap. “It’s the Paradise One, right?”
Chris nodded.
“Are you from the Paradise Resort on St. John?”
“I work there.” Apart from family, only Roy knew Chris owned the resort. “My mother, Doris, is concierge, so I’ve been doing odd jobs around the place all my life.”
“Sounds wonderful.” She took a sip of cola. “Or does life on a tropical island get tedious after a while?”
“The air conditioning units have been known to get tedious.”
“How about tourists?”
“I kind of like tourists.” Chris smiled. “How about you? Where are you from?”
Mr. Williams picked up his glass which, Chris realized, contained not water but rum. He was about to signal Roy for a replacement when Anna’s dad took a sip. The man’s brows lifted. He tossed Chris a let’s-not-bother-the-women-folk look and followed it with an enthusiastic gulp.
Anna toyed with her soda. “We got in from Milwaukee this morning,” she answered Chris’ question. “We’ve been waiting to take the ferry to the Paradise Resort.”
“You’re checking in? That’s good news.”
Anna’s mouth quirked, and Chris’ imagination flew to all the things he’d like to show her. Coral reefs, his favorite hikes through the jungle, the best beaches for counting stars. Chris didn’t normally date tourists. In fact, he put a lot of effort into avoiding romantic entanglements with guests. But he was going to do his best to date Anna. He wondered briefly about this sudden change in attitude. Maybe it was how different she seemed from all the women on Vacation Bride. He’d gotten so sick of greedy, artificial—
“Wait.” Chris tensed. Wasn’t the last batch of contestants due today? “You’re not part of that horrible web series, are you?”
“Vacation Bride?” Anna coughed. “I…um…that is….” She cleared her throat. “It’s awful, isn’t it? My friend, Diane, has been making me watch it. I can’t believe the stuff those women will do, just to try and marry that gorgeous, rich Casanova who doesn’t love them one bit.”
“You think the guy’s gorgeous?”
“Me?” Anna’s eyes widened. “Oh. Not at all! Not personally.” Her mouth twitched, and she added with a trace of flirtatiousness, “I’ve always preferred athletic, outdoor types.”
Chris sat straighter and sucked in his abs.
“Anyway, we’re headed to the Paradise Resort so Dad can have a vacation. He’s been really cooped up this winter, since his surgery. The doctor says all he needs to get well is light exercise and a break from the cold.”
“The man’s a genius.” Mr. Williams tapped his half-empty glass of rum. “I feel better already.”
“What about you?” Anna asked. “Is it tough working in maintenance with all the contest stuff going on?”
“Maintenance?” Chris wondered if he should set her straight. But women always changed once they heard the word manager, especially after they learned his last name was Andersen. That was one reason he avoided casual affairs. Not that he wanted a casual affair with Anna. Chris was surprised to discover his intentions toward her were almost entirely honorable.
“It must drive you crazy,” she said, “having a film crew under foot.”
“The crew’s not that bad,” Chris said. “They get in the way, but at least they’re hard workers. It’s the contest women I can’t stand. All smiles and charm in front of the cameras, all shrieks and tantrums when they think no one is watching.” He laughed. “Sometimes I dream of escaping to a tropical island.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Mr. Williams finished his rum.
“Daddy!” Anna exclaimed. “Daddy, what’s in that glass?”
“Nothing.” He turned the tumbler upside-down. “Obviously, I need a refill.”
“Oh no you don’t!” She picked up the glass and sniffed it. “Your doctor said one alcoholic beverage per day!”
“That’s right, I forgot.” Her father rose unsteadily. “Let’s buy some cigars!” A sheen of sweat appeared on his forehead. He sank down, looking ill.
“OK, that’s it.” Anna picked up her big handbag. “I’m going to hire a water taxi to take us to the resort.” She looked at Chris. “They have those, right? I read it in my travel guide.”
“The bartender can call one. But they cost a lot more than the ferry.”
“Well.” She pushed the sketchbook into her bag. “Well, cost doesn’t matter.”
From the way she gripped the bag, Chris guessed cost mattered a lot. If only he wasn’t stuck waiting for Ryan. “I’ll tell you what,” he said. His cousin could afford to hire whole fleets of water taxis. And if he didn’t like that, he could swim. “Let me make one quick call and then I’ll take you over myself.”
“You’re sure?”
“Not only that, but we can check you in on the radio so you’ll go straight to your room.”
“Thanks.” Anna’s face flushed with relief. “Thanks, that’s great.”
“Not just great.” Chris stood and collected his laptop. “From now on, your trip is going to be paradise.”
Chapter Five
Anna leaned over her hotel room balcony and drank in the sight of Paradise Bay. “This is glorious!” She’d expected to see St. Thomas, with its forested slopes and manmade sprinkle of buildings, but there were so many other islands rising from the water like the olive-green humps of a sea-serpent. Every place she’d been today seemed to have totally different views. She felt she could draw and draw and never get bored.
“How are you doing, Dad?” Anna turned to her father. He’d settled comfortably in an overstuffed chair with a container of cheese and crackers they’d brought from Wisconsin and a thick paperback in his lap.
“Mmph. This is the life.” He patted crumbs from his mouth. “Sign me up.”
Chris, the maintenance man, had been as good as his word. Not only had he ferried them from St. Thomas to the resort, but his mom, Doris, had met them in a golf cart and personally whisked them uphill to their room.
Welcome to Paradise. Anna sighed happily. Their room was a little dated, with plain furniture and a small bathroom, but everything was squeaky clean, and the freshly-made double beds were heavenly. Anna had never stayed at even a modest resort before. She got the impression this one was extremely well run.
“You’re sure you don’t mind my going out?” Anna asked. Chris had invited her for a walk and dinner. After he’d done so much, it had been impossible to refuse. “I don’t think this place has room service.”
“I’m good here.” Her dad tapped the crackers. “I plan to turn in early. Doris is reserving me a beach cabana first thing in the morning.”
Anna glanced at the clock. Chris would be here any minute. “I hate to leave you. I’m going to be tied up all day tomorrow with the contest.”
“That’s paying the bill.” A shadow crossed her dad’s face. There’d been a time—before deductibles and disability—he’d paid for vacations. “Are you sure you don’t want me there for your swimming race?”
“Gosh, no. I’ll be embarrassed enough as it is.” Anna paced to the mirror and examined her reflection. She’d settled on a blue and white batik sundress, sensible sandals, and the string of pearls her mom had sent from Brazil for her twenty-first birthday. A touch of waterproof mascara was all the makeup she owned, so that would have to do for Chris.
Chris. For the hundredth time, Anna’s thoughts returned to their embrace. Of course, he’d only been helping her up. It didn’t mean anything. But it was awfully nice.
“I feel guilty,” her father said. “I’ve never missed one of your races.”
Anna’s dad was a baker. All through school, he’d closed the family business beneath their flat on Downer Avenue in time to get to her meets. If she won, he baked and sold her favorite dolphin cookies the next day. Half the people on Milwaukee’s east side knew Anna’s swimming record.
“It isn’t really a race.” Anna pulled out the ponytail and twisted her hair into a braid. Her friend Diane said braids were elegant. Anna peered into the mirror. Not this braid. “We’re swimming a couple of laps to show off for the camera, is all.” She shook out her hair and redid the ponytail. “And anyway, I couldn’t care less if I win. Being here with you is all the prize I want.”
“If you say so.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means—”
A knock sounded outside. With brilliant clarity, Anna knew her outfit was wrong. The batik dress was too casual, the pearls too dressed up. The man works in maintenance. The Paradise Resort’s main restaurant, near the lobby, was free for guests. But the fancy pavilion at the top of the hill was not. What if employees couldn’t use the free restaurant? What if he thinks I expect an expensive meal?
She walked unwillingly toward the door.
“It means,” her dad repeated as Anna pulled it open, “that you’re a strong, beautiful woman who can do anything she chooses.”
“I absolutely agree.” Chris stood in the well-lit corridor dressed in fresh jeans and a white T-shirt that showed off his muscular build. “Hi.”
Anna stared, dumbstruck, and then backed out of his way. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Chris came in, carrying two picnic hampers that smelled of strong spices and chicken. “Wow.” His blue eyes scanned Anna in appreciation. “Hello.”
“Hello.”
“Hello from me, too,” Anna’s dad drawled sarcastically. “Willkommen. Bienvenue.”
“Good afternoon, sir.” Chris dropped his baskets and shook her father’s hand. “I brought a hamper, so you won’t have to go down to dinner alone.”
“So you won’t feel guilty about stealing my daughter, you mean. That’s very considerate.”
Chris gulped and turned to Anna. “I thought we’d have a picnic if you’re OK climbing stairs.”
“Do I need to change?”
“No! You’re perfect! That is…there’s furniture to sit on, so your dress won’t get spoiled.”
“Then I’m your girl!” Anna bent and kissed her dad’s head. “Don’t wait up.”
“And don’t worry if you can’t reach us by phone,” Chris added. “Cell service is pretty spotty up there.”
Anna waited while the men exchanged father/date glances and then slipped out the door and followed Chris through the resort. The place was made up of eight or ten bright cinderblock buildings nestled into an emerald hillside that sloped up from the beach. A series of switchback paths landscaped with palm trees and bananas led from the dive shop near the dock to the resort’s main restaurant halfway up the hill.
Chris bypassed the hotel buildings and used his employee key card to unlock a gate. Behind it lay an old stone staircase, its hand-quarried surfaces burnished bronze by the late-afternoon sun.
“Careful.” He offered Anna his hand. “The steps have been restored, but there are a few rough spots we’re still working on.”
Anna took Chris’ hand with a thrill. How long had it been since she’d gone anywhere with a guy? Too long. Not since her dad got sick, a year and a half ago. Way too long.
“It’s lovely.” She glanced up the picturesque staircase. “Where does it go?”
“There’s an old Danish
sugar plantation at the top that belongs to the property. We’re getting it ready to open to the public, but right now guests aren’t allowed up unescorted.”
They started climbing, pausing periodically to rest their legs and admire the view, but Anna was too distracted to pay much attention to scenery. Is this a date? She couldn’t stop thinking about the feel of Chris’ hand. Was he holding so tight to keep her from falling? Or did her hand please him, too?
“Not much farther.” Chris climbed faster.
Anna puffed upward beside him. It can’t be a date, she told herself. Because I’m here for the contest. A fact she’d carefully avoided mentioning. It’s not a date, because I’ve technically come here to marry another man.
The sun sank low behind them. Chris hurried Anna up the stairs.
But except for the contest, this would be a date. Anna wasn’t sure what to think of that. She liked Chris. For just a second, back at the bar, she thought he’d been about to kiss her. And Anna was pretty sure she’d have kissed him back. But even without the contest, she’d still be going home in three weeks. There’d been two men in Anna’s life, the last, a jerk who disappeared the day her dad got sick. But both those guys had been relationships, not affairs. Girls from Wisconsin didn’t sleep around.
Chris all but dragged her up the last few steps. “This is it.”
“Oh!” Anna stared. Ahead stood a group of colonial stone buildings, some intact, some half in ruins, each painted a luminous, blazing gold by the setting sun. She stood transfixed, watching the color slowly change from gold to yellow to pink and then to dusky rose. “Oh, my!”
A strip of shadow began low and crept up the walls. It seemed the most natural thing in the world for Chris to move closer and put one arm around Anna’s shoulders, for her to slip an arm behind him. They shared a moment of comfortable silence as night swallowed the ruins. When it was almost over, Chris turned Anna around to face the tangerine sun. The glowing arc disappeared into the ocean, leaving the dust of twilight, a twinkling scatter of stars.
Vacation Bride: A Billionaire Marriage of Convenience (Brides of Paradise Book 1) Page 3