Suddenly, out of the darkness, Noah Rider appeared.
A gasp escaped Paige, and he spun around at the sound and did something she could never have expected.
He kissed her.
Sudden and fierce and hot, he kissed her. She responded, unable not to, and heat rocketed through her again.
He broke the kiss, and she suddenly realized that he’d kissed her to keep her quiet, to keep her from alerting their captors.
But then he whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that for days.”
She wanted to say that she had, too, wanted to believe that keeping her quiet hadn’t been his only reason.
But even if it hadn’t, where did that leave them? Where did they go from here?
Nowhere, she realized, unless they got out of this alive. And there was a very real possibility that they wouldn’t….
Just Another Day in Paradise
JUSTINE DAVIS
Books by Justine Davis
Silhouette Intimate Moments
Hunter’s Way #371
Loose Ends #391
Stevie’s Chase #402
Suspicion’s Gate #423
Cool under Fire #444
Race Against Time #474
To Hold an Eagle #497
Target of Opportunity #506
One Last Chance #517
Wicked Secrets #555
Left at the Altar #596
Out of the Dark #638
The Morning Side of Dawn #674
*Lover under Cover #698
*Leader of the Pack #728
*A Man To Trust #805
*Gage Butler’s Reckoning #841
*Badge of Honor #871
*Clay Yeager’s Redemption #926
The Return of Luke McGuire #1036
†Just Another Day in Paradise #1141
Silhouette Desire
Angel for Hire #680
Upon the Storm #712
Found Father #772
Private Reasons #833
Errant Angel #924
A Whole Lot of Love #1281
Silhouette Books
Silhouette Summer Sizzlers 1994
“The Raider”
Fortune’s Children
The Wrangler’s Bride
JUSTINE DAVIS
lives in Kingston, Washington. Her interests outside of writing are sailing, doing needlework, horseback riding and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.
A policewoman, Justine says that years ago, a young man she worked with encouraged her to try for a promotion to a position that was, at that time, occupied only by men. “I succeeded, became wrapped up in my new job and that man moved away, never, I thought, to be heard from again. Ten years later he appeared out of the woods of Washington State, saying he’d never forgotten me and would I please marry him. With that history, how could I write anything but romance?”
Once upon a time, there was a genre of books that was sadly misunderstood by anyone who didn’t read them. Those who did read, loved them, cherished them, were changed by them. But still, these books got no respect on the outside. In fact these books were belittled, denigrated, held up as bad examples, while their readers and authors were sneered at and insulted by people who, although they never read the books, had somehow arrived at the idea that it was all right to slap others down for their choices. But those readers and authors kept on in the face of this horrible prejudice. Why? Because they found something in these books that they found nowhere else. Something precious, that spoke to them in a very deep and basic way.
Then one day, this beleaguered genre was given a gift. A fairy godmother, if you will, a person with an incredible knowledge of these books and why they worked, and an even more incredible generosity of spirit. A one-person support system who gave so much to the writers of these stories, and was ever unselfish with her time and that amazing knowledge. And her endorsement counted for something; readers took her word and knew they would rarely be disappointed. She was a rock, a pillar on which the genre depended. Her loss has left a gaping hole that can never be filled, and will always be felt by those who love these books—and loved her.
For those reasons and so many more, the Redstone, Incorporated series is dedicated to
MELINDA HELFER
Lost to us August 24, 2000,
but if heaven is what it should be, she’s in an endless library, with an eternity to revel in the books she loved.
Happy reading, my friend….
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
Epilogue
Chapter 1
“It’s scary to see that here in paradise.”
Noah Rider nodded at Redstone Inc. pilot Tess Machado as they looked out the parked jet’s window at the airport terminal. There was something inherently ominous about men in camouflage anywhere, but it seemed even worse in a tropical paradise. Especially when those men in camouflage had automatic rifles slung over their shoulders.
He called up a memo on his laptop computer, knowing he needed to notify the main office that things might be worse than suspected. Redstone had received reports that the rebels were calling it a political uprising, when in fact it was simply a rebellion against the suppression of the drug traffic. But if the government of Arethusa felt the need to guard the airport, it did not bode well for continued peace in this Caribbean island paradise.
“It’s a good thing the resort guests coming in next week won’t be making this stop,” Tess said.
Rider looked at the woman who had been Joshua Redstone’s personal pilot for six years, ever since the head of Redstone Inc. had reluctantly acknowledged he had to work during a flight too often to keep doing all the flying himself.
“Yes,” he agreed. “It’s not the most welcoming sight for vacationers.”
He knew some would arrive at the newest Redstone resort in their own planes, some via Josh’s private fleet—probably even the new Redstone Hawk IV he sat in now—but none should need a refueling stop before landing at the new airstrip at Redstone Bay. They had only stopped to pick up a shipment for the resort; the Hawk IV had more than enough range to make the trip from India nonstop.
“Do you know who you’re bringing in next week?” he asked her. When Tess wasn’t piloting Josh, she was part of the Redstone pilot pool, at her request; she loved flying. She traveled almost as much as Noah, and he wondered what kind of strain that put on her relationship with the stockbroker she’d been seeing. It had certainly been enough to destroy his own marriage, and the one serious relationship he’d had since. He kept his mouth shut, however; Tess was like a big sister to him, and she’d made it clear if there was any advice giving to be done between them, he’d be on the receiving end.
“I’m not sure yet,” she answered. “But if we have to stop for any reason, it’ll be in Antigua,” Tess said, pushing dark bangs back with her fingers as she looked out the window once more.
“Good idea.” Her gesture made Rider think of his own appearance, and he rubbed a hand over his bewhiskered face.
As Tess returned to the cockpit he rose and walked back to the head, although it had always seemed ludicrous to him to call something as elegantly appointed as this bathroom a head. Josh had drawn the line at gold-plated fixtures for this, his o
wn personal jet, but everything was still the highest quality. As were all the planes built by Redstone. From the smallest prop to the biggest jet they made, the fleet that was the foundation of Joshua Redstone’s business empire was all pure class.
But the quality of the mirror couldn’t help the reflection, Rider thought as he peered at himself. He looked like what he was, a man who’d been running too long on too little sleep. His dark hair was tousled and overdue for a haircut, he’d gone beyond fashionable stubble sometime yesterday afternoon—whatever time zone that had been in—and his eyes were as much red as blue. But nobody would really care what he looked like as long as he acknowledged the hard work they’d been doing.
As they began to roll again, loading completed, Rider went back to his seat and glanced out at the military men once more. He wondered for a fleeting moment if his clever boss had done this intentionally, so he’d get a firsthand look at the situation on Arethusa. But he discarded the thought; if that were the case, Josh would have sent Draven, or someone else on the security-and-troubleshooting staff, not him. He was strictly a detail man, and hadn’t been this close to serious weaponry since the years spent hunting with his father in the wilds of Montana. He might once have been able to stalk even a wary skunk, but these days boardrooms were as close as he came to throat-slitting violence. And most times, that was close enough for him. He was glad to leave Arethusa behind.
By the time they were approaching Redstone Bay, Rider had his checklist prioritized. First the staff meeting to thank them all for what they’d done so far, then individual meetings. Then he would—
Tess’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re about to land, Mr. Rider.”
Smiling at the formality she always maintained once in the cockpit, Rider pressed the intercom button on the console beside the spacious table. “Thanks.”
He’d asked for a circuit of the island before they landed, so he could see what the place looked like from all approach directions. He had a knack—some called it a brain glitch—for remembering maps and plans, and he could call up the original planned layout at will. So now he studied the view below, nodding slowly.
They’d done a good job, kept the disruption of the landscape to a minimum and the buildings in keeping with the style of this part of the world. Not that there was any lack of luxury, but there was no towering concrete monolith of a hotel here—that wasn’t Redstone’s style. The four-story buildings were arranged around a large courtyard, and were low enough to be masked by the inevitable palm trees. A number of small, elegant and very private bungalows were scattered among the trees. The swimming pool at one edge of the courtyard was also subtle, designed to look more like a natural lagoon and grotto than something built by man.
Even the landing strip, Rider thought as they banked for the last turn, wasn’t a huge scar on the land, but had been landscaped with exquisite care to maintain the most natural look possible.
He sat back in the leather seat, nodding with satisfaction. This, he thought, was going to be smooth sailing.
Paige Cooper turned a page in her leather-bound journal, ran her finger down the center to make it lie flat, and picked up her pen. Then she set it down again, caught unexpectedly by a wave of emotion. She closed the journal and gently touched the cover, tracing the intricate Celtic design on the teal-green leather. Moisture welled up behind her eyelids as she fought down a stab of fierce longing for those days past, when life had been good and her son, Kyle, had loved her enough to save all his allowance for three months to buy this for her birthday.
As if her thoughts had summoned him, she saw Kyle out of the corner of her eye, leaving his room and walking toward the front door of the bungalow they’d been given to live in while she was on the staff. She knew the instant he realized she was there by the way his normal, gangly-fifteen-year-old walk became a slow, dragging shuffle, with his shoulders slumped as if he bore the weight of an unfair world.
She smothered a sigh and tried for a cheerful tone. “Where are you off to?”
He stopped dead. Only his head turned toward her as he gave her a look of such exaggerated incredulity that she winced inwardly. Everything seemed to be over-the-top with him these days.
“Nowhere.” His voice was bitter, acidly so. “Since I’m in the middle of noplace, with no friends and nothing to do, I’m going nowhere.”
She reined in the urge to order him not to use that tone with her. She knew he was having a hard time just now, and tried not to focus on the superficial symptoms of that.
“It must be awful to feel that way,” she said, her voice carefully even. “Especially when lots of people would love to be here.”
It stopped him, but not for long. “Those people would be here by choice. They wouldn’t be dragged away from home, forced to leave all their friends and even their own stuff.”
She’d known when she’d taken the Redstone job last month that this could be a problem. “I told you,” she said patiently, “as soon as we get a little ahead you can have Danny come for a visit.”
“Danny? That little geek?” Kyle sneered.
“He’s your best friend.”
“Maybe when I was seven. You just don’t get it, do you? I’ve grown up, I can’t hang around with those little kids.”
“He’s your age,” Paige pointed out.
“It isn’t the age,” Kyle said haughtily, “it’s the maturity. Danny is still a kid. All he thinks about is school and sports and computers. He doesn’t have a life.”
Paige’s patience ran out abruptly. She stood up, not that it helped much now that Kyle was nearly two inches taller than her five foot four.
“You think it’s more mature to have a police record that will follow you the rest of your life? That your life is best spent playing video games endlessly? That it’s more grown-up to hurt the people that love you the most?”
Kyle flushed. “The one that loved me the most is dead,” he shouted, and ran out the door.
Paige sank back into her chair, blinking rapidly. The truth boiled up inside her, and she was thankful Kyle had gone. She didn’t think she could have held it back this time. But telling him would only hurt him all over again, and he’d been through enough. He’d adored his father and now he was dead, and beyond that nothing much mattered.
Except that now, at fifteen, that same loving son hated her. And never let pass a chance to tell her yet again how she had ruined his life and he would never, ever forgive her.
She fought down the urge to cry; she’d wept enough over this to know it was a useless exercise. She straightened her spine, opened the journal and picked up her pen.
Sometimes, she told herself firmly, you just have to do what you know is right, and damn the torpedoes. Or whatever that saying was.
She found her page and glanced at what she had written before: “Nothing much happens here in Redstone Bay.”
It suddenly struck her this was very much like the opening of an old, much-loved book her mother had handed on to her. It had been written on a postcard in the story, but the sentiment had been the same. In the book it had also been the precursor to chaos for the unsuspecting heroine.
Paige smiled wistfully at her own whimsy. She lifted her gaze and looked around at paradise. A slight, balmy breeze rustled the palm fronds, but barely stirred the few strands of hair that had escaped her braid. She couldn’t imagine a more peaceful place. The strife she’d heard the hotel staff talking about seemed distant and unreal in this haven of serenity.
And that serenity was exactly what she’d come here for. It had been difficult, giving up her home. But she’d had enough of the brutal streets of Los Angeles. And more than that, she’d had too much of what they were doing to her son. She empathized more than he would believe with his struggle to go on without his father, but she simply would not allow Kyle to be turned into one of those street fighters who turned up on the nightly news, either as killer or victim.
The distant sound that had been niggling at the edge of
her awareness swelled to a roar, and she looked up to see a sleek jet, painted in the red-and-gray color scheme of Redstone Inc. She thought it looked like the same one that had ferried her here from California, and wondered if Tess Machado was flying it. She had liked the charming woman with dark, pixie-cut hair and the lovely smile. It had been an experience unlike any she’d ever had; the novelty of leaving when it was convenient for her, of knowing the plane would wait if she was late, and sheer amazement at the amenities. And Tess had told her Josh—anyone who’d worked for Redstone more than a year seemed to call him that—hadn’t gone for the extreme luxury he produced for other customers; he’d spent his money in the avionics, the instruments and in extra training for his pilots.
Even Kyle had forgotten his anger in the thrill of the ride on the powerful jet, and for the length of the ride at least, they’d been close once more as he excitedly pointed things out to her. He’d even thanked her when she’d negotiated with Tess to allow him a brief period in the cockpit. She knew he would enjoy it, and besides, it couldn’t hurt for him to see the pilot was female.
As the jet headed for the landing strip, Paige glanced at her watch. The point man, it seemed, was right on time; the staff meeting was set to begin in an hour. Everything she’d ever seen connected to Redstone seemed to run like clockwork, although she was sure there had to be glitches in at least some of their huge undertakings. But that’s what this guy was here for, she thought. To smooth out the bumps in these last days before the Redstone Bay Resort opened for business.
She closed her journal and stood up. The mild breeze played with the hem of her new, tropical-print dress, an indulgence she had allowed herself the day after she’d accepted the job offer that had brought her here. She rarely wore it—she had to be too careful as a redhead in a land of tropical sun—but she’d put it on today because she needed the confidence the flattering dress gave her.
And speaking of that job, she told herself, she’d better take the short time she had to go over her papers once more. She doubted the man would want to delve into her lesson plans, but it had been a few years since she’d taught, and Joshua Redstone had taken a chance on her, so she wanted to be completely prepared just in case. She was happy with how her students had adapted so far.
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