by Vicky Loebel
The shag carpet had long since gone, most of the crisscrossed windows smashed in by hurricanes and replaced with safety glass. But the landscaped terrace still looked over an enormous expanse of white sand beach with a view five miles across Pillsbury Sound to the distant rolling slopes of St. John. In recent years, driven by practical considerations, Ryan had paid for the upkeep on Villa Louisa by renting the outdoor space for weddings and other events, confining his own living space to one small isolated building. But during the last six months he’d opened part of the house for CasParDev, inviting business associates and their families for long working weekends to relax and soak up the view. As part of the change, he’d turned the low-ceilinged living room into a conference center complete with desks, printers, and a long table for spreading blueprints and maps. And it was into this room, twenty-eight hours after reaching St. Thomas, that Ellie entered arm-in-arm with the project’s unfairly handsome Puerto Rican structural engineer.
“Ramón!” Ellie chattered in Spanish. “That face, those abs, your manly hand upon my elbow. How did I miss the fact your bedroom’s so close to mine?”
Ryan closed his computer. OK. He didn’t actually speak Spanish, so that might not be what Ellie said. Game on.
“Ramón.” He grasped the man’s hand and shook it vigorously. “Ellie.” Her answering smile stirred something warm inside.
“Oh.” She turned to the long row of windows facing the water. “I’ve been an islander all my life, but the views still surprise me. Does this thing work?” She walked to a large telescope that Ryan had tactfully pointed away from the future site of Casino Paradise, aiming it instead at the little island of Thatch Cay a half mile north of St. Thomas.
“Yes, yes,” Diego said in slippery Spanish. “Let me lift you into my arms and carry you—”
“Thanks for meeting with us on such short notice.” Ryan placed himself between the two of them. “We appreciate your taking time to review the ecological modifications.”
“My pleasure.” Ramón tried unsuccessfully to duck past Ryan. “Miss Green….” He looked at Ellie but she was busy with the telescope. “Miss Green suggested several changes I believe we can incorporate. I’ve sent the specs to my office and promised to cost them out by Thursday.” His cheerful tone told Ryan they would cost a lot. It didn’t matter. Ryan was all-in on Casino Paradise. Without it, his fortune reverted to his father. He could spend half his wealth—ten times what the casino ought to cost—and still be way ahead of losing everything.
Not that the money mattered all that much. Ryan had lived the last two years on less—far less—than his relatives suspected. But ending the trust, earning his dad’s respect and Uncle Henrik’s approval, that victory mattered a lot.
A door opened. “Lunch in ten minutes,” Mrs. Jamala, the house manager, announced.
“Smells great.” Ellie looked up from the telescope. “What are we having?”
“Empanadas.” Ramón rubbed his hands together. “They told me at breakfast.”
“The thing is….” Ryan draped one arm around Ramón’s shoulders and steered him toward the exit. “The thing is, much as I’d love to invite you to stay for lunch, your helicopter’s about to land.”
“What a coincidence,” the engineer replied. “Perhaps the pilot’s hungry, too.”
Ryan ushered the man outside into the noise of whirring blades. “Alas, the chopper’s on a tight schedule.” He hustled Ramón toward the helicopter landing pad.
“There’s probably another flight….”
“All booked,” Ryan lied shamelessly. “Some V.I.P. in town. Besides, you need to head to your office and get working. Those cost estimates aren’t going to revise themselves.”
Lover warred briefly with consultant on Ramón’s face, and then the billing hours won. “You’re right.” He stretched his palm toward Ellie, who’d followed them outside. “I’d love to show you Puerto Rico. Why don’t you ditch this two-bit Casanova and come with me?”
Wait a minute. Ryan frowned. That was in English.
“Um, thanks.” Ellie stepped back. “You’re very kind.”
“Goodbye, Ramón.” Ryan shoved the engineer into the chopper, stepped clear, and watched him fly away. The roar around them faded to wind and surf.
What if she’d wanted him? What if Ellie had changed her mind about staying for the engagement party? What if she’d gone? There’d be a scene with Ryan’s father, pained disappointment from Uncle Henrik. Ryan would probably lose his fortune on the spot.
And yet, those weren’t the things that bothered him. What if she’d gone? He looked at Ellie: white blond, short waifish hair, a tube top that would fit around his thigh, and white Capris she’d borrowed from someone’s closet. Ryan had known slim blonds before. His usual preference was busty brunettes, like Bekka. Like the ex-wife, Bobby, who’d mangled his confidence.
But I want Ellie. He wanted to pick her up, carry her to his room, and do things Ramón had never even dreamed about in Spanish. The thought left Ryan both excited and a little queasy. He’d cut his throat before he made—before he even considered making—this lovely woman into a casual hookup.
“You’re a cruel man,” Ellie said, laughing. “Ramón really wanted those empanadas.”
“With what we pay, he can afford to have them delivered fresh from Spain.” Ryan offered his hand. She took it, her five-foot four inches perfectly matched to his five-ten. They walked to the poolside veranda, shaded by bougainvillea vines, where Mrs. Jamala had set out empanadas, fresh salad, iced tea, and chilled rum punch.
“How’s your bedroom?” Ryan offered Ellie a chair at a brightly tiled table. “Do you have everything you need?”
“About a hundred times more than I need. Your housekeeper is very efficient.” She shook her head at punch, so Ryan poured them both tea. “Mrs. Jamala says Villa Louisa is named after your mom?”
“My father bought it for her to remodel. They did the outdoor space and had their wedding here, but apart from her art studio, the property stayed as it was.” Ryan’s dad had disappeared with a mistress and his mom had disappeared into a bottle. “Carl’s house, the one I technically grew up in, is a mile north on the next beach. He’s in a gated community with three of my uncles and half a dozen cousins who come and go.”
“That sounds…convenient?”
Ryan shrugged. “My half-sister, Elaine—you won’t meet her tonight, she spends the months starting with ‘A’ in rehab—owns property uphill from Dad. And your friend Bekka….”
Ellie grimaced. “Don’t tell me she’s here, too?”
“Uphill from me.” Ryan pointed to the five-story mansion looming above Villa Louisa. “Her parents built it ten years ago hoping—I kid you not—to snag me or one of my cousins and produce yacht-club ready Andersen grandchildren.”
“Good grief.” She shook her head. “But you’re living here now?”
“Part time. In Mom’s old art studio in a separate building. The beach and patio get used a lot, and one of the local high school diving teams practices at my pool.” He pointed to the high dive platform. “And we have Mr. and Mrs. Jamala living on site. But apart from the occasional guest like you or Ramón, the house sits empty.”
Ellie helped herself to half an empanada. “Sounds lonely.”
“I loved the stillness as a boy. White sheets on furniture, the echoing old linoleum. Mom and I kept a hibachi grill outside and lived on Jiffy Pop and toasted marshmallows.” And in his mom’s case, highballs. “Which drove the staff insane. They wanted to cook and clean and fuss.” He laughed. “Rich kid camping, I guess.”
“And was this where your mom…?” Ellie glanced at the hill behind the house and blushed. “Sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”
“Where Mom died?” A gust of wind rattled the bougainvillea leaves. “No. That was at my aunt’s house on Corfu.”
Her sympathetic gaze invited more.
“I was there.” He never talked about it, but it seemed natural to share the story wi
th Ellie. “The whole family was out on my aunt’s terrace. Dancing, eating, laughing.” The sort of get-together that terrified his mom. “She used to drag me to parties, because she was shy and I never shut up.”
That day, Ryan refused to be his mother’s shield. He’d left his quarreling parents and gone to play table tennis with his cousins. “She was alone by the railing, looking at me. I turned around for just a moment, and when I looked back, she was gone.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“No one missed her for hours. But I knew. I knew and didn’t speak up, just kept playing, watching that spot, waiting for her to reappear.”
Ellie rested her hand on his.
“It was three hundred feet. She died instantly. But for years I dreamed I heard her crying, calling my name while I hit that ping-pong ball back and forth, back and forth over the net.” Ryan removed his hand and poured more tea. “Anyway” —he cleared his throat— “most of her artwork’s still in the studio. I’ll show you sometime if you want.”
“I’d like that.”
He nodded. “Meanwhile, we ought to talk about tonight. About the party.”
“Our engagement party.” Ellie shifted uncomfortably.
“Engagement. Right. Are you OK with this?”
“Pretending to be your fiancée?” She shook her head, more questioning than negative. “Why me? Seems pretty silly. How can being engaged to me affect your trust? I thought your dad wants you to marry Bekka.”
“He’s probably talked to her by now and gotten the whole story.” It was faintly terrifying that they hadn’t heard from her directly. Ryan took a long drink of tea, trying not to imagine what Bekka might be up to. “I think Dad’s trying to make me look like an idiot in front of Henrik. If they decide I’m hopeless, they’ll dissolve my trust and transfer the assets to my father.”
“You’re not hopeless.” Ellie frowned. “And anyway, what does he want it for? Isn’t he rich?”
“Very. He just hates my guts.” The old truth still felt raw. “I don’t know why Henrik’s pushing the engagement party. We get along. These last six months, I thought I’d earned his trust. I guess maybe he’s so delighted to see me with someone….” He’d almost called her nice. No woman could forgive a lukewarm compliment like that.
“Simple?” Ellie suggested.
“You’re not simple. Not at all. But you’re more sincere than most of the ladies I’ve introduced to Henrik.”
“I liked him.” Ellie put down her fork. “I hate to lie.”
“Me, too.” Ryan had been thinking about that. “So here’s the thing,” he said carefully. “What if it’s not a lie?”
Her face scrunched skeptically.
“I’m serious. Every engagement doesn’t have to end in marriage.” This time he took her hand. “I like you. You’re honest, sweet, and brave.”
“And you’re out of your mind.”
“Guilty.” He left his chair and dropped to one knee. “Ellie Green, we haven’t known each other long, but every minute’s been amazing.”
She looked alarmed.
Ryan took off his pinky ring. “I dug this black opal out of the rock myself. I wear it as a reminder that the world is full of hidden beauty.” He squeezed her hand. “I can’t guess what will happen two weeks, six months, a year from now. I don’t know how long you’ll put up with me. But you are beautiful and kind, and I’d like you to keep this as a permanent token of my regard.” He slipped the oversized band onto her ring finger.
“I can’t! I couldn’t take your opal.”
“You can. I want you to. Whatever happens after I’ve sorted out my finances, once all this business with my father has settled down….” She’d leave. He found he couldn’t speak the words. “Until then, Ellie Green, will you please be my fiancée?”
“OK.” She took a breath. “All right, yes.”
They rose together. Ryan gathered her in his arms, brushing his mouth on hers, feeling a spark that wanted to be more. He held back, letting her head rest on his collarbone. Ellie’s body began to mold itself to his. He touched her chin, lifting her face….
“I’d leave you to it,” a girl’s voice interrupted. “But I heard someone needs a party dress.”
Oscar. Ryan could not remove his eyes from Ellie’s face. “Oscar.” Easy, boy. This wasn’t the time or place to get romantic. He forced his gaze away from his fiancée’s warm smile and gathered his wits.
“Ellie, this is my sister, Emma. Half-sister, technically.” The product of Carl Andersen’s long-since divorced third wife. “We call her Oscar because she’s such a grouch.” Also the bright green hair, thick boots, sunflower tank top, and short-short overalls. At age fifteen, she was a head taller than Ellie, though Oscar’s figure had an awkward, unfinished look.
“Hi, Oscar.” Ellie took in the hair, pierced lip and eyebrow, expensive grungy clothes. “These must be yours.” She gestured at her white Capris. “I hope you don’t mind me raiding the spare bedroom closet. I left my wardrobe under a manchineel tree.”
“Keep them. I’ve given up white. It’s the preferred color of the industrial-laundry complex.” Her head cocked. “But they look good on you.” She turned to Ryan. “What are you paying her to help you scam Dad and Henrik?”
He should have known Oscar would guess. “What will I have to pay you to keep quiet?”
“Six hours of video games, vegan pizza, and a twelve-pack of beer. And I want to DJ your engagement party tonight.”
“Four hours. I get cheese on my pizza,” Ryan countered. “You drink root beer, and the DJ thing is fine if you clear it with Sam and Henrik.”
“Hmm.” Oscar sucked her lip and studied Ellie. “What do you do?”
“I hunt rich bachelors and trick them into marrying me.”
The eyebrow piercing lifted. “How many?”
“Ryan’s the first. I’m working on my technique.”
Oscar frowned. “Your grandma cleans toilets at my Uncle Chris’ hotel.”
“It’s a resort. I used to garden there. Gran worked in housekeeping until your brother took her to Vegas and got her mixed up with the mob.”
“I what?” Ryan protested. He’d what? “What mob?”
The girls ignored him.
“You’ll scratch that ring. The stone’s too soft. Make Ryan buy you a blue diamond.”
“I like this ring.” Ellie covered her hand. “And I’ll be careful.”
“Versace, Karl Lagerfeld, or Alexander Wang?”
“Are those clothes stores?” Ellie shrugged candidly. “Goodwill?”
“OK.” Oscar turned to Ryan. “I’ll take the deal. It won’t work though. Pretending to be engaged.” She nodded grudgingly at Ellie. “This one’s too good for you.”
Ryan was half afraid Oscar might be right.
Chapter Nine
For a girl whose clothes looked like a cross between Pippi Longstocking and Rambo, Oscar turned out to have impressive fashion sense.
“This is the best so far.” She held up a blue dress printed with white hibiscus. “It’ll highlight your tiny waist.”
“Not so tiny.” Ellie added the pretty dress to her try-on pile. “I think I’ve gained five pounds since I met Ryan. The man keeps feeding me. How come he isn’t fat?”
“He moves too fast. Calories can’t catch up with him.” The girl examined something white, frowned disapprovingly, and moved on. “When I was little, Ry used to take whole gangs of kids out snorkeling, play football, and then pick up his vampires to get lai— I mean, go dancing. No one keeps up with him.”
Ryan’s vampires. His girlfriends. Ellie tried not to frown. “I bet you keep up with him.”
“Sometimes.” She ducked her face to hide a smile. Despite the grouchy nickname, Oscar was proving to be quite sweet, clearly devoted to her brother. “How about this?” She held up a strapless red dress with a short flaring skirt. “It’ll set off your hair. Unless you’ve got tan lines?”
“Fraid so.”
“More coverage, then.” Oscar plunged coltishly among the clothes. “First rule of wealthy-husband hunting,” she called, “is sunbathe naked.”
Ellie winced. “I was kidding about the husbands. You know that, right?”
“If I didn’t, you’d have been out the door on your white-Capri’d behind. Anyway, I asked Doris about you before we met.”
“Doris? From the Paradise Resort?” Ellie didn’t know the concierge socialized with her dead husband’s family. Andersen clan relationships were proving complicated. Ryan had two half-sisters, Emma/Oscar and Elaine, who lived in Brussels, and a half-brother, Wolf, attending graduate school in Scotland. Beyond that, things got confusing. “Chris’ mom?”
“She’s like my second mother. Except, unlike my first mom, I know her phone number and where she lives.” The girl reappeared holding a purple dress striped with gold. “Bold colors hide stains. And stripes make you look taller.” She thrust the garment. “Go try it on.”
“I think I have enough.” In addition to the hibiscus dress, Ellie had picked out three polo shirts and two pairs of shorts at prices that nearly made her faint, along with a cute seashell bathing suit and dressy sandals. Counting the boots and jeans Ryan had given her on the plane and Oscar’s white Capris, Ellie’s wardrobe was now too big to fit in her duffel. And it was going to take the whole consulting fee she got from CasParDev to pay for it.
She knew Ryan didn’t expect her to pay for clothes. He’d ordered Oscar to handle everything—apparently all Andersens had charge accounts—but not paying would make her feel like another one of Sheik Ryan’s bloodsuckers. She didn’t want expensive gifts.
Except the ring. Ellie touched the black opal and imagined Ryan, stripped to the waist, digging the stone out of some deep Australian cave, polishing, cherishing, wearing it on his hand. I’m keeping this. The vision brought back their fleeting half-kiss and Ellie flushed hot, cold, and hot again. What was she doing? Three months ago she’d been in love—thought she was in love—with Juan Esteban. She’d barely begun to get over that man’s vile betrayal when in walked Ryan, handsome, sexy, and unreliable, and set her heart racing again. Had she forgotten Casino Paradise? Forgotten Ryan was going to destroy St. John? All the eco-friendly modifications on earth wouldn’t stop hordes of indifferent gamblers from visiting the island, ramming their boats into the fragile coral reefs, dumping their trash into the bay.