"Lancelot's Landing. I call it home."
Stunned by his revelation, she realized that Jonathan was probably much closer to Tyler, the big boss, than she'd hoped, which would make it far more difficult to complain about Jonathan's rudeness.
"Are you all right?" he asked, touching her hand.
She couldn't help the quickening of her pulse. She told herself that her reaction was because she was dead tired and stressed. It had nothing to do with the man eyeing her, touching her hand. And it had nothing to do with the yearning she felt when she looked into his fathomless eyes.
No, she thought. It has nothing to do with Jonathan.
~ * ~
Jonathan saw the faint blush that brushed the woman's cheeks. "Ms. McLeod?"
"You aren't joking, are you? I mean, I was told this was a resort. My employer said―"
"Your employer was mistaken." Her hand trembled in his and he sighed. "Look, we'll have to make the best of a bad situation. This may not be a resort, but I think you'll survive just fine."
Suddenly self-conscious, Jonathan let go of her hand.
"This way," he said, pushing the wheelbarrow toward the house.
Leaning against the frame, he held the front door open for her. As Rhianna ducked under his arm, he caught a whiff of fresh citrus and vanilla.
She smells good.
"Are you coming inside?" Rhianna asked.
"I, uh…of course."
He led her through the house, all the while thinking that it had been ages since they'd had a real guest.
He caught himself. No one invited her here.
"It's beautiful," she said, "but I really should go back to the mainland. Can you arrange for a boat to take me?"
"There is no boat."
The woman looked like she was going to cry.
"Roland keeps my boat on the mainland," he explained. "He's not coming back for another six weeks, when the next supply is due." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Mind you, he could return earlier, seeing as he still has to deliver the rest of the supplies."
He felt tired and dirty. He had worked longer than usual today, which was why he was late picking up the supplies. All he wanted was a bath and a good night's sleep. The last thing he needed was some spoiled city girl invading his privacy.
"Can't you just call him and ask him to come back?" she begged. "I can pay him for his trouble."
"No phone service out here." The disbelief in her eyes made him add, "No cell phone service either. No tower. Closest one is too far away. And I haven't repaired the long-range radio yet, but now that I have the parts…" He shrugged. "It looks like you're stuck here until I fix it."
Whether we like it or not.
He watched Rhianna as she examined the spacious living room and settled into a plush chair by the window. Her skin was slightly pink from the sun, and she shifted uncomfortably. For a Miami city girl, she seemed unusually flustered by the heat.
"Want a drink?" he asked, heading for the bar.
"Water, please."
He grabbed a bottle of water from the small fridge.
"Glass?"
Wordlessly, she shook her head.
As he handed the bottle to her, their fingers brushed. He jerked his hand away, confused by the sudden energy that fused through his body.
"Let me show you around, Ms McLeod."
"Rhianna," she said in a weary voice. "Since I'm stuck here, we may as well be on friendly terms…Jonathan."
He frowned.
The last thing he wanted was to get friendly with this castaway. But God only knew how long she'd be stranded here.
He swallowed hard. "Do you want a tour?"
~ * ~
Rhianna was surprised by Jonathan's question. He hadn't seemed too happy about her intrusion. Why was he being so nice all of a sudden?
Then she remembered.
He doesn't want me complaining to his boss.
She followed him into the kitchen. There was a large island in the center with a grill for indoor barbecuing. A skylight had been installed above the island, filtering in beams of warm sunlight. The dining nook area harbored a small oak table and two chairs, an oak china cabinet, and a number of potted plants. A sliding door near the table led onto a two-tiered cedar deck.
"It's not much, but it's home," he said.
"I think it's lovely. How many people live here?"
"Besides the help? Two."
Tyler must be married, she thought.
"Are you hungry?" he asked. "We already ate supper, but I think there are some leftovers."
She stifled a yawn. "I ate on the plane. All I want now is to crawl into bed."
"Well, lucky for you, I've got an empty bed you can crawl into."
A fiery heat rose from her neck to the top of her head. She turned away, praying to God that he hadn't noticed.
"Can you show me my room?"
Jonathan led her into the den. It housed an enormous library, one she'd give anything to explore. From the look of Tyler's collection, she surmised he must be a wealthy man. There were books of many genres, including children's books.
"A collector?" she asked Jonathan.
"Yeah. It's a hobby."
She waited for him to say something more about his enigmatic boss, but he beckoned her upstairs. On the second floor, they walked down an open hallway that looked down into the living room. They reached the door at the end of the hall.
"This is the only unoccupied room," he said, pausing.
When he opened the door, Rhianna blinked twice. The bedroom was stunning. Someone had decorated it with pale lilac wallpaper, delicate watercolor paintings and leafy potted plants. An antique cedar dresser and vanity stood in one corner of the room. French doors led to a small balcony that overlooked part of the back yard. On the far side of the room, under an arched window with aqua and mauve sheers, was a large four-poster bed draped in lilac sheets and a satin rose comforter.
Her eyes lingered for a moment on the tempting sight. She was so tired and confused by the day's events that all she wanted to do was curl up on the bed and sleep. For a week. But reality set in. She was staying on a private island, uninvited and unwanted. Her holiday had turned into a nightmare.
How could this have happened? she fumed. How could JT have made such a mistake? He's always so organized, and Higginson confirmed all the details.
She had heard JT tell him to make sure everything was arranged. Now here she was trapped on this island with a man who obviously didn't want her around, and a boss she dreaded meeting.
"Do you like this room?" he asked.
She turned to him. "It's beautiful. Thank you."
"No problem," he said with apparent relief. "If you need anything…"
Her skin burned at the suggestiveness of his words.
Had he meant it that way?
Convinced that she had just imagined it, she said, "When can I meet your boss?"
Jonathan's mouth thinned. "Trust me, all your questions will be answered in the morning. Have a good night."
After he was gone, Rhianna stared at the closed door and wondered what she'd done to make him so angry. With a frustrated sigh, she wandered around the room, fingers trailing over polished wood and soft fabrics. Someone kept the place spotless.
There must be another woman on the grounds.
She hooked a finger on one of the sheers and pulled it aside. Her room overlooked a backyard deck. Not a soul was around, but off in the distance she noticed two smaller buildings. She was sure one was a barn and she wondered what kind of animals it housed. A thin trail of smoke rose from the chimney of the other, a small cottage that looked like something out of a Thomas Kinkade painting.
I wonder―
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. When she opened it, the only thing in sight was her suitcase. Jonathan must have brought it up.
The man was a mystery. One minute he was cold and unwelcoming, the next minute thoughtful.
"Tonight you need to de-stress," she sa
id aloud.
In the adjoining bathroom, her eyes widened at the sunken Jacuzzi in the corner and the jar of rose oil on a shelf above it. "Yes, that'll do just fine."
While waiting for the tub to fill, she twisted her hair and fastened it with a clamp. Then stripping off her clothes, she lit the candles that surrounded the tub, turned off the overhead light and stepped into the scented water.
"Ah," she moaned. "That's what I'm talking about."
Soothing, warm water enveloped her and she leaned back, closing her eyes. The day's tension slowly seeped away, leaving her tired but relaxed. While soaking, she let her mind drift, thought after thought released to the universe.
Until Jonathan's powerful physique came to mind.
She couldn't shake the image of him pushing the wheelbarrow. The strength of his arms, the glint in his eye. Even when angry, he was an incredibly attractive man.
She sighed. What was it about him that disturbed her?
She stared at the flickering candlelight patterns on the walls and wondered what Jonathan would tell Tyler. If he wasn't happy about her presence, how would his boss feel? And was there really no way off the island for six weeks?
She chewed on her bottom lip.
Perhaps if I help in the kitchen and stay out of Jonathan's way, Tyler won't be too upset and the time will fly by.
An hour later, she pulled the plug and watched the water swirl down the drain. After toweling off, she strode into the bedroom and eyed her suitcase. She'd packed a nightgown on the very bottom.
"No unpacking tonight," she muttered.
She pulled back the comforter and slid, naked, between the petal soft sheets, the fragrant fabric whispering against her skin. It was a piece of heaven, and more than a little sensual.
"This isn't so bad," she said before shutting her eyes.
There were far worse places to be stranded than on a private, tropical island. She had a beautiful home to stay in, even if she had to share it with the most irritating―and devastatingly attractive―man she'd ever met.
Drifting into sleep, she was greeted silently by her dream lover. He stepped from the depths of a natural hot spring, draped only in moonlight, wisps of steam and a warm breeze.
She stared into blue eyes and whispered his name.
Jonathan.
Chapter 6
Morning arrived too quickly and Rhianna groaned at the merry chirping of birds outside. She stretched, yawned, then opened her eyes.
The yawn caught in the back of her throat.
It hadn't been a nightmare. She really was stranded on an island in the Bahamas.
"With a guy who hates me."
She yanked the comforter over her head. As she lay there, she heard the tinkling of laughter coming from somewhere outside.
It's time to get up and face the head honcho.
Climbing out of bed, she wondered if Jonathan had already told Tyler about her. She hoped not. She'd rather that the boss make up his own mind about her, rather than be influenced by a rude handyman.
After a quick shower, Rhianna put on a teal sun dress. Then she dried her hair and pulled the long waves into a high ponytail, securing it with a decorative elastic band. To her dismay, a few stubborn curls fought their way free near her face.
I'm ready, she thought as she brushed on some blush and applied a light shade of lipstick. She wasn't sure exactly who she was preparing to meet―Tyler or Jonathan.
Feeling confident, she headed for the stairs but froze on the top step.
"Lord, have mercy!"
A plump woman of Caribbean descent was rooted in one spot at the bottom of the stairs. She stared at Rhianna as if she'd seen a ghost.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."
The woman fanned herself with one hand. "I couldn't believe my ears when I heard we had a guest."
"I'm sorry to be such an imposition―"
"Stop your apologizing, dear. It's been far too long since we've had a beautiful young lady in the house."
Rhianna blushed.
"You must be Ms. McLeod," the woman said, beaming a wide smile and brushing the flour off her hands. "I'm Mrs. Atkinson, the housekeeper. Come in and have a seat, dear. You must be hungry."
"I'm famished."
"Did you sleep well?"
A platter of pancakes and sausages, along with a bowl of sliced fruit materialized in front of Rhianna the minute she sat down.
"Like a baby," she said, filling her plate.
She glanced at the dirty dishes Mrs. Atkinson was removing from the table. Jonathan and Tyler must have eaten already.
"Sorry," she apologized. "I should have gotten up earlier and eaten with everyone else. I assume Tyler is up?"
"Oh, he's been up for hours," Mrs. Atkinson replied.
"Do you know where he is? I need to talk to him."
"Mr. Tyler always works long hours during the summer. And he doesn't like interruptions."
"What time will he be back?"
"Oh, Mr. Tyler will be busy all day, dear. We won't see him until supper time. If we're lucky." Handing Rhianna a napkin, the housekeeper added, "You might as well make yourself at home."
After breakfast, Rhianna returned to her room and unpacked her suitcase. With everything in its place, she rummaged through her handbag for her plane ticket and passport. Under the ticket folder was her cell phone.
Taking it out on the balcony, she flipped it open and turned it on. "Crap. No service."
Jonathan hadn't been pulling her leg.
"Six weeks?" She let out a groan. "You can do it. Anyway, what could possibly go wrong in that time?"
She leaned against the rail and gazed across the yard. A corner of the cottage she'd seen last night was in view and something moved there. Shading her eyes, she squinted into the sun. A man was standing stock still near the cottage. She couldn't make out his features, but she was sure of one thing.
He's looking straight at me.
Jonathan―or the illusive Tyler?
For a moment she was tempted to go after the man, but she recalled what Mrs. Atkinson had said. Tyler didn't like to be disrupted. And if it was Jonathan, that would be even worse.
She stepped inside her bedroom and tucked her passport, ticket and cell phone under the t-shirts in the dresser. Then with a fortifying breath, she headed downstairs.
"Mrs. Atkinson?"
No answer.
Unable to resist temptation, Rhianna stepped into the den. It had a pleasant lingering scent, musky and masculine. Tyler's room. She thought of Mrs. Atkinson's use of his name. Mr. Tyler. Very formal. It made her wonder how imposing the man really was.
The various titles on the shelves surprised her, and she was ecstatic to find some of her favorite authors―Dean Koontz, Stephen King, Andrew Gross, M.J. Rose, Rick Mofina, Lisa Unger and Daniel Kalla, to name a few.
"Quite the book collection, Tyler," she said, her hand pausing above a shelf. "What's this?"
It was a book on hearing loss. Next to it was an ASL manual. Someone at Lancelot's Landing was learning American Sign Language.
Frowning, she wondered who. And why?
She pulled both books from the shelf and took them outside. "Might as well brush up on my skills, since I'll be looking for a new job soon."
"Are you talking to me?"
The books landed on the deck with a thud.
"Jonathan," she murmured, heart pounding.
"Sorry I startled you." He rudely pushed past her. "I have to get something from inside the house. I'll see you later."
She blinked once and he was gone. Like a mirage.
She picked up the books and settled into a lounge chair under the sizzling tropical sun. The only thing missing from her 'holiday' was a meandering swimming pool. Of course she could always venture back to the beach for a swim, but she'd probably get lost. The brush was too dense and the pathways nonexistent to someone who didn't know the lay of the land.
She opened the book on ASL. It was the same one she'd
studied when she had gone to work for Mrs. Fletcher. Sign language had come easily to Rhianna, and it had definitely made her job easier with the cranky old gal.
When Jonathan emerged from the house and strode past her, a book tucked under his arm, she didn't say a word. Neither did he. Without even a flicker of response, he made a beeline for the far end of the yard, for the cottage-like building with the chimney.
"No pool?" she yelled, miffed.
"We're surrounded by one," he called back.
She let out a huff. He wants me to get lost.
Just before lunch, she examined the paintings in the hallways and living room. Some of them she was sure she'd seen in an art gallery, although it had been months since she'd gone to one, and she never would have if JT hadn't encouraged her to take a day off.
She wondered how he was doing. Was he worried because she hadn't called him? Somehow she had to figure out a way to get a message back to the mainland.
"Hello there," Mrs. Atkinson said from the doorway. "Have you eaten lunch yet?"
Rhianna shook her head. "I didn't want to go snooping around in your kitchen."
"Well, you snoop all you want, dear. I should've warned you I serve breakfast, lunch and dinner at eight, one and six o'clock. If you want anything earlier, just help yourself."
"I can do that. As long as Mr. Tyler doesn't mind."
"Wouldn't matter if he did." Mrs. Atkinson grinned. "It's more my kitchen than his. Since I'm here now and you haven't eaten, what would you like for lunch?"
"Something I can take outside?"
Working side by side, she couldn't help smile at Mrs. Atkinson's jovial spirit. She answered the housekeeper's questions and tried to ignore the occasional piercing stare.
"So you thought you were coming to a resort?" Mrs. Atkinson laughed. "I bet you were shocked when you found out otherwise."
Rhianna nodded, though she didn't tell the woman how shocked she was by Jonathan's rude treatment.
"I can't eat all this," she said.
Together they'd made a platter of cheese, crackers, vegetables and dip. Enough for a small family.
"I usually bring Mr. Tyler his supper," Mrs. Atkinson said. "I'll leave you a plate if you don't mind. You can heat it in the microwave." She glanced at the kitchen clock. "And Misty might return soon. She eats like a horse."
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