A thousand insects began to chirp and buzz.
“That was incredible.” She understood why they’d rushed up the stairs. “Is it always like that? Every night?”
“Depends on the weather.” Chris pulled his arm away, looking self-conscious. “Perfectly clear evenings like this are pretty rare.”
“I wish I’d brought my pastels. I’d love to draw it. But I don’t suppose I’d get it right.”
“Nobody gets it completely right. They get parts, like bands of light coming out of a prism. When you shine the artwork back into a person, sometimes the rightness is there.”
That sounded pretty deep for a maintenance guy. “Do you paint?”
“Only hotel rooms.” He laughed. “But I know lots of painters. They move to the islands in boatloads from the States.”
“I can see why. This place is absolutely gorgeous.”
“What about you?” Chris switched on a set of gentle landscape lights. “Are you a professional artist?”
“Art school dropout,” Anna admitted. “Though once Dad’s better, I hope to go back part time. I make my living teaching swimming.”
“I should find you a job.” The words made Anna’s stomach flutter. “We’ve got lifeguards, but we’re always terrified that our mainland tourists will drown.”
Chris led Anna through an arch into an area of wide stone pillars that supported an overhead trellis dripping with bougainvillea. Between pillars, separated for privacy, were half a dozen iron tables, each with four chairs. Beside the pillars stood groups of planters filled with orchids and ferns.
Anna turned in circles, taking everything in, while Chris lit six wall-mounted lanterns. He whipped a white cloth out of his basket and onto a table, plucked a spray of bougainvillea for their centerpiece, and offered Anna a chair.
“Madame?”
“I thought this was a picnic, not five star dining!”
“A bit of both.” He took real silverware and delicious-smelling covered plates out of the basket. “The Paradise holds private dinner parties up here. Those can get pretty fancy, but I’m afraid all I brought was the chef’s special roast chicken.”
“Chicken’s perfect.” She watched Chris open containers. Along with chicken, there was fresh bread, olive oil for dipping, a crisp spinach salad, and a thermos of what Chris called “painkillers,” that turned out to be frozen coconut milk, pineapple juice, and orange juice, laced with rum.
Anna bit into her chicken. “Mmm.” It had a refreshing, spicy flavor with hints of nutmeg and lime. “Pinch me.” She used her napkin. “I can’t believe I’m here.”
“Here in these ruins? Here on St. John?” Chris grinned lopsidedly. “Here eating chicken with the man of your dreams?”
“At least two out of three.” Anna swallowed hard and turned to face the sea. “It’s all so perfect. Have you really lived here your whole life?”
“Pretty much. Mom’s Swedish, but my dad was Danish-American, raised on St. Thomas. His dad didn’t approve of my mother, so after they got married, they bought the Paradise and settled here.”
“Bought it?” Anna looked at him, startled.
“Yeah.” Chris shrugged. “They owned the resort for a few years, but it lost money like crazy, and I gather the stress was pretty intense. My dad died while I was still a baby. Doris sold out, bankrupt, and stayed on as concierge.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was hard on her, but it was the perfect life for a kid. Swimming, boating, always able to pick up a buck or two for ice cream running errands for guests. By the time I’d grown up, I couldn’t imagine working anyplace else.” He topped off Anna’s painkiller. “What about you? Is it just you and your dad?”
“Yeah, but my mom’s alive. She ran off with a Brazilian soccer player when I was in junior high. They live in Rio.”
“That’s a long way from Milwaukee.”
“I think that was the idea. Out of arguing distance. Mom and I trade emails and birthday presents.” Anna touched her pearl necklace. “But since she writes in Portuguese, I have to run everything through an online translator.” She smiled. “And even that’s hit and miss because her Portuguese is terrible.”
Chris chuckled sympathetically. “That must be rough.”
“This sounds bad, but I was kind of glad she took the drama to another continent. I never really minded until my dad got sick and I had to quit school and deal with everything on my own. Then I was mad as hell that she’d abandoned us, which wasn’t really fair. Lucky for me, my best friend helped a lot.” Anna hesitated. “My friend Diane,” she clarified, not wanting Chris to think she meant a guy. “We went to high school together, and then she worked full time at our bakery until Daddy got sick.”
Chris brushed her fingertips. “How’s your Dad now?”
“He’s…um….” Anna’s arm tingled. “He’s better. Even with all the travel, Dad did great today. There were times this winter when I thought the stress of being trapped inside with nothing but unpaid bills would…well.” She put the sad memory out of her mind. “Who could possibly stay sick in Paradise?”
Chris took her hand. Clear blue eyes looked into Anna’s.
He’s going to kiss me. Anna’s heart thudded. He’s going to kiss me, and I haven’t told him I’m in the contest. “How about Doris?” She grabbed her painkiller and took a gulp. “Your mother seems pretty amazing.” The elegant matron who’d met them at the dock had practically sizzled with energy. “Is being concierge very hard work?” Exactly what did a concierge do, anyhow? “Are the hours long?”
“Very long.” Chris moved his hand to his silverware. “Doris is the heart and soul of the resort. She’s both the concierge and head of housekeeping, although after I bought….” He hesitated. “That is, these last two years, she’s been in a financial position to retire any time she wanted to.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to quit.” Anna thought of her father. “It broke my dad’s heart, closing our bakery. Especially since we live over the shop.” She paused. “It’s probably like that for anyone who loves what they do.”
“I think what she loves best is bossing me around.”
“That never ends.” Anna grinned. “Retired or not.”
“You’re right. The woman desperately needs grandchildren.”
Was that a hint? Anna ducked her eyes, avoiding Chris’ gaze. She grabbed the picnic basket and picked a dish at random. “What’s this?” Her fingers closed on cold metal.
“Ice cream.” Chris unscrewed the lid. Inside was a dark, glittering mound. “Do you like ginger?”
“Um…maybe?”
“Hang on.” He drizzled rum over the ice cream and lit it with a match. Bright flame raced across the hemisphere from rim to rim. When it was gone, Chris scooped a mouthful and fed it to Anna.
Rich chocolate melted on her tongue. “Oh, wow!” Beneath the chocolate lay the sharp crispness of candied ginger mixed with a soothing mango swirl. “It tastes like sunset.”
“That’s what we call it. Paradise sunset. It’s our signature dessert.”
Anna picked up the other spoon and scooped a mouthful for Chris. They ate in silence, trading bites, while insects rioted in the darkness. Anna had never fed a grown man before. Never been fed. The act was curiously intimate.
“Yum.” She sighed, thoroughly satisfied, after they’d scraped the bowl clean. “I never thought ice cream could be as good as….” She slapped a hand over her mouth.
“What’s wrong?”
“Brain freeze!” She blushed, mortified, but then the fib came true. A painful wave of cold plunged through her skull. “Ow!”
Chris placed his palms on either side of her cheeks. “Let me.” Warm thumbs massaged her temples.
“Oh.” Anna shivered. “Oh, that’s nice.”
Chris leaned closer, cupping her head. His lips brushed hers, and it was much, much better than ice cream.
But what about the contest? Anna kissed Chris tentatively, confused. She had no int
erest in marrying a billionaire. She fully expected to get cut from the show. Still, I ought to tell him….
Chris’ chair scooted closer. Strong arms encircled Anna’s shoulders. Her mind floated. Exactly how many painkillers had she drunk? Less than one. She reached up and stroked Chris’ jaw. The man was intoxicating….
Lights blazed. Something rattled nearby. “Housekeeping!” The lights switched off and on.
Chris jerked away. Anna blinked her eyes in the dazzling glare.
“Housekeeping!” The lights flashed off and on again. “Break it up, lovebirds.” A woman wearing a Paradise Resort uniform stepped out from behind a pillar, pushing a large rolling bin. “You know the sugar mill’s off limits…. Oh, it’s you, Mr. Chris!” She sounded surprised. “Sorry, I just came up to collect the trash.”
“Hi, Helen.” Chris rose to his feet. “It’s OK. We’re finished. We were having a picnic.”
“I saw that.” Helen replied. “I’m sorry I rushed your dessert.” She turned her back, snickering, and started emptying the trash cans that were chained to the pillars.
Chris shoved dishes into the hamper. “I guess we should go.”
“I guess.” Anna helped him pack. “You’re not in trouble, are you?” she whispered. “For bringing me here?” She had an awful vision of getting him fired.
“No risk of that.” Chris folded the tablecloth. “The manager never does anything that might upset my mom.”
“Too much respect for her long years of service?”
“Nope.” Chris lifted the hamper and grasped Anna’s arm. “Too scared he’ll get spanked.”
Chapter Six
Chris guided Anna carefully down the plantation steps. It wasn’t dangerous. The stones had been re-mortared, leveled, and lit with low-voltage solar lights. But he disliked the way the staircase vanished into darkness ahead of them, as if one wrong step would send them plummeting into the bay.
“Are you OK?” Anna cleared her throat. “You sure you’re not in trouble?”
“I’m sure.” Chris squeezed her hand. “Everything’s fine.”
“You seem a little tense.” She hesitated. “Look, if…. That is, don’t worry. I didn’t think one kiss meant anything.”
Chris forced his grip to relax. “In that case, I’ll have to kiss you again.”
Her brown eyes grew enormous. “I guess you will.”
He bent and brushed her lips with his. She tasted wonderful. “You don’t mind kissing a maintenance guy?” So many women had kissed Chris, in younger days, on the mistaken assumption he was rich. And then turned spiteful when they found out he wasn’t. “A guy who fixes plumbing and smells like motor oil?”
“I’ll see your motor oil and raise you two tablets of chlorine.”
Chris inhaled deeply. “I love your smell.”
“Well, I like yours.” She touched his shoulder. “It’s honest.”
His smell was honest. The maintenance man story, not so much. Chris kissed Anna again, wanting to pull her close, but this was not the place. He turned, glanced down the steep stairway, and grabbed her shoulders before she had a chance to fall.
But that was stupid. The stairs were perfectly safe. Chris took her hand and started down again.
“What’s wrong?” Anna asked.
“Nothing,” Chris lied. “Not much. Sorry. I don’t like heights.”
“Oh.” Anna hesitated, squinting into the darkness. “Now that you mention it, that’s kind of a scary drop.” She slipped closer and they continued arm-in-arm. The stairs ended at a solid guardrail in front of the bluff.
Chris opened the resort gate and held it for Anna. “I used to rock climb, dive out of helicopters, all sorts of crazy stuff.” He’d raced up and down those stairs without a second thought as a kid. “It’s just…. My uncle’s family died. Three kids. In an accident. I sort of blame myself.”
“I’m sorry.” She squeezed his arm. “Was it a rock-climbing accident?”
“Helicopter crash. Right off St. Thomas. He was taking off and got so distracted screaming at his wife he forgot to watch the controls.” Chris had the detailed report from the investigation. Plus terrified texts from his cousins. “I was supposed to have been with them.” A knife turned in his stomach. “It’s stupid, but when I look at heights, I think of them. Falling. Afraid.”
“That isn’t stupid.” She squeezed his arm harder. “It’s sad.”
“It’s pointless.” Chris shook his head. “Punishing myself doesn’t change anything. I know that. But just continuing my old life feels….” Impossible. “Heartless, I suppose.”
“How old were your cousins?”
“Nine, twelve, and fourteen.”
They reached the stairs to Anna’s building, a two-story cinderblock facing the sea.
“After my dad got sick,” she said, “I had to close our bakery. For months, the smell of cupcakes made me cry."
“How’d you get over it?”
“Diane came over one night after I got home from the hospital. We took all my dad’s special mixes and baked five-hundred cupcakes for the children’s ward.” She smiled. “Boy, can those peewees pack it away.” Anna stopped walking and took the picnic basket from Chris. “Of course, that’s different. My dad’s alive.” Her tone showed Chris how scared she’d been he’d die. She put the basket down and touched his hands. “What I mean is, we don’t get over grief and worry. It would be terrible if we did. We just find ways of coping, of accepting the situation without wrecking our lives.”
“Maybe.” Was Chris wrecking his life? He could be using his fortune to fix the resort, hire maintenance men, double employee wages. Hell, he could import snow and turn the place into a ski lodge if he wanted. What Chris needed was a way to deal with money without wrecking his life. “I feel guilty,” he said. “Then I feel guilty about feeling guilty.”
“And then guilty about wasting all that valuable time! I know!” She hugged him, warming his chest.
“Anna.” Chris place his cheek on her hair. I ought to tell her. Now, in this moment of shared comfort. My job, the inheritance, my dream of making the resort a success. Maybe Anna could help him find a way forward. But telling Anna he was rich would change the way she looked at him. Chris couldn’t do it. Not tonight. Instead, he walked her to her door. “Can I see you tomorrow?” He’d tell her then. If not the whole story, at least part.
“I’d love that.” She hesitated. “But not until evening, OK? I’ve got to…clear something up.”
“What’s wrong? Is it your dad? Your room?” Chris brushed her arm. “Can I help?”
“No. Nothing. Don’t worry.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “Anyway, I don’t want to get you in trouble. You’re going to be busy all day fixing air conditioners, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” He’d forgotten. “OK. Tomorrow night.”
Anna unlocked her door. The room was dark. She squeezed his hand and slipped inside.
Chris stood a moment and then walked slowly to the employee block. He liked Anna. Liked her a lot. Her scent, her hair, her wide kind eyes lingered like a caress on his skin. All Chris’ life women had looked at him with dollar signs in their eyes, had slept with Chris to get close to his billionaire cousins. At age twenty, Chris hadn’t minded, but it had become irritating long ago. Anna didn’t know Chris’ family was rich. She didn’t even know he ran the resort. The thought that someone as lovely as Anna liked Chris for himself was….
It was like a pain he hadn’t recognized was suddenly gone.
Chris let himself into the employee apartment he shared with his mother. A kitchenette, two bedrooms, his beat-up desk in the corner. Could Anna live like this? Could she be satisfied with his life? He’d asked his mom once why she’d married his father, why they’d sacrificed the family fortune, his grandfather’s good will, when nobody would have cared if they’d simply been lovers.
Doris had looked at Chris like he was crazy. We had to marry, she said. He was the one.
What about
Anna? Was she the one for Chris? He shook his head and sat at his desk. They’d never know unless he got caught up on work. Most of the resort’s business was electronic, but there were tradesmen who still mailed invoices or even carried their bills over by boat. Chris started sorting and opening letters. That’s when he spotted the heavy white envelope. Hand-delivered, written on creamy Ritz-Carlton stationary in Ryan’s hand. He picked it up and turned it over with a sense of foreboding. He turned it over again, but there was no point trying to guess.
Chris ripped open the envelope and read the short note from his cousin.
Eloped with Bobbie. Have fun selecting your Vacation Bride.
Chapter Seven
Anna sat in the corner of the cluttered Vacation Bride changing area—normally the Paradise Resort snack bar—and watched the spectacle of eleven women and their personal stylists preparing for a swimsuit competition amidst a bustling video crew.
Don’t let Chris see me. She crossed her fingers for luck. Don’t let…. She didn’t expect him to be here. He’d said the air-conditioning units would keep him busy all day. Besides, Chris had made it perfectly clear how much he hated Vacation Bride.
A camerawoman tangled her extension cord around Anna’s toes.
“Sorry!” Anna shifted her feet. Don’t let Chris find out I’m here. She’d tell him about it tonight, but that would be different. By then, she’d probably be out of the contest, and she could explain.
Anna wasn’t planning to deliberately lose the swimsuit competition. The show’s producers had brought her here, and she owed it to them to do her best. But one glance at the suntanned fashionistas around her was enough to show she didn’t stand a chance. Today’s contest involved swimsuit modeling followed by a short race in the pool. The final score would be calculated by combining each woman’s race time with her internet votes, with the lowest four of twelve being eliminated. Anna knew she’d do OK swimming, but her plain braid, untanned skin, and chlorine-stained one piece weren’t going to impress the online audience.
Vacation Bride: A Billionaire Marriage of Convenience (Brides of Paradise Book 1) Page 4