The maid’s cart was parked outside her room, so she pushed open the door. The maid was bending over one of the open dresser drawers and jerked up when Georgette entered the room. “I’m sorry, miss. Did you already unpack? One of the services of the resort is that we unpack for you.”
The guidebook didn’t lie. This was a full-service joint. “Thank you. I already unpacked.”
The maid backed out of the room. “I’ll return for turndown service.”
Georgette drew the blinds against the late afternoon sun and checked her watch. Time to call Mom.
She flopped onto the bed, grabbed her cell phone, and tapped the display for Home.
Mom’s voice rose to near hysteria. “What do you mean she’s not there but hasn’t checked out?”
Georgette rolled her eyes, wishing she were a good liar. “I don’t think it’s anything to worry about, Mom. She probably joined that group of French tourists for some island-hopping.”
“Jamie doesn’t speak French.”
Georgette rubbed her eyes. “I’m sure they figured out some way to communicate.”
Mom said in a tight voice, “Is that a crack about Jamie’s friendliness? She can’t help it. Men flock to her. Maybe if you learned to curb that sarcastic tongue of yours, they’d flock to you, too.”
Was that why Jake’s lips had tightened when she asked if he felt guilty? She’d be damned if she’d turn into some fawning sycophant to land a man. At least Brice didn’t want that. Or at least he had said he didn’t.
She rolled onto her stomach. “I’ll wait here until Jamie comes back. She’s fine. Probably living it up with her new friends.”
Mom sighed. “I hope you’re right. Keep asking around. Someone has to know where a beautiful girl like that went. Don’t give up. You’re not supposed to be on vacation, Georgette. And Brice wants you to hurry home.”
Georgette sat up. “Tell him to give it up.”
“Don’t be so hard. He’s sorry. It’ll never happen again. He’s the perfect man for you, Georgette. You’ll be an exemplary professor’s wife, like I never could. You two share all the same interests. Forgive and forget.”
Georgette squeezed her eyes shut as she gripped the phone. Never. She’d never forget that moment she walked into his bedroom. “I’ll give you a call tomorrow, Mom.”
She fell back against the bed and stared at the ceiling, tears seeping out of the corners of her eyes. Must be tired. She hadn’t cried over Brice in months. Her limbs felt heavy, as if weighted down by sand. Rolling onto her side, she drifted into sleep.
Georgette awoke to a darkened room, her mouth feeling stuffed with cotton. She opened the blinds and peered at a blurry orange line on the horizon. Missed her first sunset in Palumba.
She flicked on the light and snatched a bottle of water from the well- stocked minibar. All covered by the resort fee for your pleasure from Mr. Jake Kincaid.
She peeled off her shorts and tank top and stepped into the shower. She’d used the soap and shampoo only once before, but fresh bottles lined the shelves. The fruity smell reminded her of Jake, but his scent was less sweet, more citrusy.
She scrubbed her scalp. That man’s larger-than-life presence kept intruding on her thoughts. Of course, it only made sense. He owned the place. Acted like he owned the whole island.
She pulled a red floral dress with thin spaghetti straps over her head and slipped her feet into a pair of red high-heeled strappy sandals. The three-inch heels put her over six feet tall. She’d never worn high heels with Brice. He hated looking up to her.
Scrunching up her curls, she left them loose across her shoulders. She outlined her brown eyes with black liner, tilting the line up at the corner like Linda taught her, and then brushed on some black mascara.
She stared at the stranger in the mirror with the flashing exotic eyes. She never wore much makeup at home. Never wanted to compete with Jamie. Compete and lose.
She edged into the restaurant, already bustling with diners. Did a place like this even have a table for one? She clung to the hostess stand, waiting for the hostess to return. She needed another one of those island punches.
A jovial group in the corner erupted in laughter as a portly man swept a bow after his joke. His gaze met Georgette’s, and his eyes widened. He smiled and waved. “Come, join us at our table.”
Georgette looked over her shoulder and then pointed to herself.
The man nodded and laughed. “Yes, you. We have room.”
Gripping her black clutch, Georgette joined the table. The man swept out a chair. “Sit here. I’m Gunther.”
He made the introductions around the table, and Georgette found herself dining with a foreign crowd—some couples, some singles, and some friends traveling together—all wealthy, or pretending to be.
Georgette perused the extensive wine list, but Gunther ordered her an island punch. He winked. “Just one. It’s a great icebreaker.”
Gunther was right. Georgette sipped her drink and bantered with the best of them, exchanging witty repartee with international bankers, socialites, and a Yugoslavian prince without a country.
A beautiful woman who’d introduced herself as Nicole leaned over. “Are you a model, darling?”
A model? Was she joking? Georgette choked on her drink. “Me? No.”
Nicole shrugged her elegant shoulders. “You should be, darling, so tall and svelte.”
Tall and svelte. Georgette never felt tall and svelte in North Dakota. Tall and gawky. Tall and skinny. Tall and clumsy. The compliment created a warm glow around her heart. She liked these people. They were her new best friends.
The scrumptious food tamed the buzz in her head from the island punch, and she vetoed an offer of another of the potent drinks. The convivial group invited her along for a poolside nightcap even though she vowed to stick to water. How did these people manage to walk straight?
Jake didn’t make an appearance at the restaurant. Probably got sick of the food, as delicious as it was. He’d surprised her this afternoon. She’d had him pegged as the resort gofer, and all the time he was the resort owner. Not a beach bum but a hardworking businessman.
She’d been here only for a day, but she could tell the hotel ran like a well-oiled machine. Jake seemed to care about the island, too, even if that concern was fueled by guilt. Who was she to judge?
Flaming torches lit the pool area, casting a shimmering glow on the water. People still splashed in the pool and gathered in the hot tub. Her newfound friends pulled some chaise lounges into a circle, and the conversation from dinner continued.
A tall figure sauntered onto the patio. Georgette caught her breath as the light from the torches touched Jake’s hair and outlined his broad shoulders and tapered waist. He stood like a god above his creation. People called out greetings to him, and he waved and smiled back.
A voluptuous woman in a tiny bikini pulled him toward the steps of the pool.
“Georgette, darling, how long are you staying on Palumba?” Nicole leaned in while Gunther lit her long cigarette, the holder pinched between her fingers, which were topped with long, red fingernails like claws.
Georgette waved her hand in front of her face. The tobacco smell reminded her of Brice’s pipe. “Just a few weeks.”
Nicole took a long drag on her cigarette. “That’s plenty of time for Palumba, although it’s Gunther’s second home.”
From the corner of her eye, Georgette saw Jake dip his head toward the woman in the pool, his lips brushing her hair. Georgette shifted her gaze to Gunther. “Oh, really? How long have you been here?”
Gunther dug into his pocket and pulled out a pipe. “Do you mind? Palumba is still old-school, allowing people to indulge in their bad habits.”
Georgette shook her head. As long as he didn’t smoke the same tobacco as Brice.
He tamped the tobacco down into the pipe and lit it, clenching it between his teeth. “This stay, I’ve been here for about two months, and Nicole has been here a month.”
<
br /> Georgette’s heart thumped in her chest. Two months? Time to forget about Jake flirting with the bikini-clad woman. Gunther and Nicole had been here at the same time as Jamie. “Maybe you ran into my sister here.”
Gunther leaned back and puffed on his pipe. “Your sister was here in Palumba?”
“Yes. She was staying here at the Palumba Falls until about two weeks ago.”
Nicole joined their conversation again. “Your sister? What’s her name?”
“Jamie Lawson.”
Silence descended on the little group. Gunther flicked a finger at the bowl of his pipe, and Nicole stubbed out her cigarette in an ashtray. A couple on the edge of the group resumed their conversation in low voices, and another person jumped up to join a friend at the hot tub.
Georgette’s eyes darted around the group. Did Jamie’s name cause this sudden uneasiness? “Did you meet her?”
Nicole sipped her drink. “Of course, we met Jamie. So, she’s your sister.”
Gunther’s eyes traveled the length of Georgette’s body. “Jamie’s your sister? You two look nothing alike.”
Georgette heaved a sigh. Like she’d never heard that before. “Actually, we’re twins—fraternal twins.”
Nicole asked, “Did you come out here to meet Jamie?”
Georgette smoothed her dress across her thighs. She didn’t want to pass her mother’s hysteria along to this group. “Yeah, but it was a surprise. She didn’t know I was coming, and apparently, she left for another island. D-did she tell you where she was going?”
Gunther bit the tip of his finger and rolled his eyes heavenward. “I think she left with Jean-Claude, didn’t she, Nicole?”
“Yes, I believe he was the last one.”
Georgette sucked in a breath. “The last one?”
Nicole laughed. “Her last conquest on the island.”
Georgette exhaled. That made sense. Jean-Claude must be the Frenchman Nigel had mentioned. Jamie hooked up with this Jean-Claude, and they took off together.
Gunther shook his finger at Nicole. “Now, Nic, don’t shock Georgette. Jamie’s her sister.”
Georgette smiled and waved her hand. “It’s okay. I know my sister better than anyone. Were you a conquest, too, Gunther?”
Nicole threw her head back and laughed. “Darling, Gunther’s as gay as Old Paree.”
Georgette covered her mouth with her hands, a flood of warmth washing over her face. “Oh.”
Gunther smiled and patted her leg. “Now you’ve ruined it, Nicole. I was gearing up for a nice flirtation with Georgette.”
Nicole snorted. “Good, I just saved you some wasted time, darling.”
Georgette giggled. “Well, if Jean-Claude was Jamie’s last conquest on the island, who was her first?”
Gunther tipped his head toward the pool. “Our hunky host.”
Chapter Three
Gunther and Nicole continued their conversation, but Georgette couldn’t hear what they were saying over the roar in her ears. Jamie and Jake. She should’ve known. He was exactly her type. Who was she kidding? Every man was exactly Jamie’s type. Especially a man like Jake—handsome, virile, built, and rich.
Jake Kincaid had just moved from flingable to flung. She’d be damned if she’d take Jamie’s leftovers. Never had, never would. Jamie had ruined him for her. He was used goods, tainted merchandise, spoiled...something.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. Jamie probably had saved her from embarrassing herself. A man like Jake would never be interested in a woman like her. Probably just felt sorry for her before.
The flames from the torches blurred, and Georgette dashed a hand across her eyes. They deserved each other...two beautiful shallow people. Probably spent their time comparing tan lines...or lack thereof.
“I think you’re wrong about Jake, darling.”
Gunther studied his pipe. “No, I’m fairly certain they slept together.”
Nicole lifted her shoulders. “I don’t think it went that far. Jamie gave it a shot, but Jake extricated himself from her claws. He’s very good at that.”
Georgette pulled in a breath and held it, hope surging through her veins.
Gunther smiled and shook his head. “I saw them skinny-dipping in the pool one night, not that there was much swimming going on, but there was plenty of dipping.”
Georgette’s breath escaped her lungs as if someone socked her in the stomach.
Gunther patted her thigh. “Now let’s stop discussing this. We’re upsetting Georgette.”
Georgette gritted her teeth and smiled. “Not at all. Like I said, I know my sister better than anyone. I’m sure that wasn’t her first skinny-dipping session, and it won’t be her last.”
She nodded toward Jake crouching at the edge of the pool where three bikini-clad women now lounged on the steps. “Probably won’t be his last either.”
Nicole’s smooth face furrowed. “Jake usually doesn’t fraternize with the clientele, at least not in that way. That’s why I was so sure Jamie’s attempt at seduction failed.”
Georgette slumped back in her seat. Jamie could get any man to change his spots. But at least Jake wasn’t some carousing Lothario. Not that it mattered to her. He was used goods, tainted merchandise, spoiled...
“Hello, Georgette, Gunther, Nicole.”
Georgette jerked her head up. The lump of used goods towered over her.
Nicole purred, “Hello, Jake darling. Pull up a chair. That is, if you’re done with your adoring fan club at the pool.”
Jake grimaced. He’d been trying to escape the Silicone Sisters ever since Georgette strolled onto the patio looking magnificent with her endless legs and little red dress. She might not be some second-rate princess from Liechtenstein, or at least he didn’t think she was, but she outshone everyone in class and elegance.
He’d been immature this afternoon. How was Georgette supposed to know she’d hit a nerve with that crack about his defensiveness? He was defensive, and she was perceptive enough to pick up on it. It had been a while since he’d run into a woman who was interested enough to delve beneath the surface of a conversation.
He wanted to pick up where they’d left off. He wanted to discover why this shy, reserved woman was traveling on her own to an international playground like Palumba.
He pulled a chair toward Georgette’s chaise lounge and sat down. “Did you enjoy dinner?”
She shrugged her smooth shoulders. “It was okay.”
He laughed. “Damned by faint praise. Were you at least impressed by the wine list?”
“I’ve seen better.”
He raised his brows. Must’ve taken offense at his abrupt dismissal this afternoon. He had it coming, but he never groveled. “Where?”
Her shimmering eyes widened. “W-where?”
“Where have you seen a better wine list?”
She bit her lip and raised her eyes. “Paris. All over Paris.”
He’d bet cash money she’d never been to Paris in her life. “Name one restaurant. I pride myself on my wine selection.”
She waved her long hands. “Oh, you know, that place off the Champs-Élysées.”
At least her pronunciation was impeccable. “No, I’m not sure I know which place you’re talking about. Lots of restaurants in Paris have top-notch wine lists.”
Gunther chuckled. “You know, Jake. That little bistro that serves the heavenly foie gras. The name escapes me, too.”
Jake snapped his fingers. “I know just the place. Is it the one with the blue and white awning, Georgette?”
She glanced at Gunther. “I-I think so.”
Gunther patted her thigh with his chubby hand. “That’s the one.”
Georgette snagged a waitress and grabbed an island punch off her tray. She took a swig and turned back toward Jake, her eyes glittering. “I asked Jake this afternoon if he felt guilty bringing tourism to this island paradise. He said he didn’t, but he sounded terribly defensive.”
Jake narrowed his eyes. She didn�
��t grovel either.
Nicole clapped her hands. “Jake defensive? Believe me, darling, I’ve never seen Jake defensive. He’s the kind of man who takes what he wants and damn the torpedoes. Isn’t that right, Gunther?”
“I have to agree with Nicole, Georgette.”
Jake smirked. Score one for Jake.
Georgette took another gulp of punch. If she kept that up, he’d be pouring her into her bed tonight. Of course, he’d have to undress her first, and tuck her in, and keep her company.
She swallowed and took a deep breath. “Is your hotel still considered the place to be on Palumba? I heard a number of guests at dinner talking about going to another hotel tonight to see some show, and the crowd is definitely thinning out here.”
She just kept ’em coming. Maybe she wasn’t so shy and reserved after all. “Costa Azul has been doing that show for over a year now. My guests always go over to see it. In fact, we sell tickets for the show at Palumba Falls. We could do it better here, but I won’t do it.”
Georgette smiled. “Afraid to compete?”’
He crossed his arms. “Just won’t do that show.”
Nicole lit another cigarette. “It’s the Palarosa sacrifice ritual.”
Georgette tilted her head. “Palarosa?”
Gunther said, “It’s the island voodoo.”
Jake scowled. He wished Costa Azul would stop doing the show, and he wished the shops in town would stop selling the Palarosa icons.
Georgette leaned forward. “I didn’t know the island practices voodoo.”
Gunther nodded. “Palumba has always been a mixture of cultures. Maybe that’s why it remained peaceful, even through the Spanish, French, and British colonizations. There’s a combination of Cuban, African, Spanish, French, and British cultures. Palarosa began before the colonization. It includes the usual potions and spells—some for good, some for bad—but nobody complains about it too much.”
The torch flames danced in Georgette’s eyes, making her look like a Palarosa witch herself. This stuff always fascinated the tourists.
She sipped her drink. “What’s the Palarosa sacrifice ritual? Is that where the virgin is sacrificed to the Palarosa god?”
Last Ticket to Paradise Page 3