Rub It In Page 2

  He was months behind on the deadline for his current manuscript. It was so bad that he’d actually unplugged his phone and uninstalled the mail program from his computer to avoid email from his editor and agent. If he didn’t finish this thing in the next two weeks he could probably kiss his career goodbye. Again.

  Thanks to Courtney’s betrayal three years ago, the resulting plagiarism scandal and his fruitless attempts to prove the work was really his, his career had already dangled by a thread once. He really didn’t want to go through that again.

  Île du Coeur and Escape were supposed to have provided him the space and seclusion to rebuild his career. Instead, they’d both become a huge time-suck.

  Buying the place had seemed like a brilliant idea. He had the capital to purchase the island, and the resort would provide the necessary revenue stream for upkeep. A manager should have taken the responsibilities off his shoulders, leaving him free to lock himself inside his office to write.

  Should have. Somehow things hadn’t exactly gone the way he’d hoped.

  The problem was that not a soul on the island—not even Marcy—knew who he was. And he liked it that way. It protected his work. He wrote under a pseudonym and always had.

  He’d wanted a clean break from the life he’d left behind. Wanted to start again and pretend the entire affair had never happened. Unfortunately, it was difficult to forget being betrayed by someone you loved.

  That sort of deception tended to color your opinion of people. Always making you wonder who was going to stab you in the back next.

  “Simon!” Marcy’s voice exploded through the wood of the door along with the rattling of the knob that he’d locked for just such an occasion.

  Knowing from experience that she wouldn’t leave until he listened to her, Simon minimized his documents, brought up a gaming program he used to make everyone think he was just wasting time in here, and walked across the room. Yanking open the door, he lounged inside the jamb, one arm stretched across the gaping area so that she’d either have to stay on her side of the door or duck underneath his arm. She wouldn’t do that. One good thing about Marcy—she avoided coming into contact with him at all costs.

  In the beginning he’d been happy. The last thing he had time for was a romantic complication with his manager. She was there to work and make his life easier, and from his experience, mixing business with pleasure rarely made anything easier. But the more she avoided him, the more he became aware of her deliberate distance. A distance that made him want to ruffle her feathers by pushing against the boundaries she’d erected. It was pointless, but he couldn’t help it.

  Even now he inched his body closer to hers, crowding into her personal space just to see her spine stiffen. The infinitesimal shuffle backward was rewarding, especially when she stopped it midway, consciously determined not to let him fluster her.

  A grin tugged at the corners of his lips but he wouldn’t let it grab hold. Instead, he asked, “What do you need?”

  She raised her hand, a sheaf of papers fluttering with the force of the motion. “We need to go over everything before I leave tomorrow. I sent you an appointment by email.”

  “I uninstalled the program.”

  Her eyes widened before narrowing to glittering slits. He loved it when Marcy got mad. Her blue eyes sparkled with a passion that made the muscles in his stomach tighten. She reminded him of a pixie; in fact, he almost hadn’t hired her because she looked as if a good stiff breeze could knock her on her ass. But beneath that tiny frame was a spine of steel and the heart of a drill sergeant. She was good at what she did, if a little too organized and into unimportant details for his liking.

  “Why would you do something stupid like that?”

  Simon shrugged, not caring that she’d just called him stupid. It was by far the least offensive term she’d used for him in the past two years.

  “Because I’m avoiding someone.”

  “Well, you can’t avoid me.”

  If that wasn’t the most obvious statement of the year he didn’t know what was. He chose to let the softball setup she’d just given him slide by.

  “What do you mean before you leave? Did I know you were going to be gone tomorrow? Isn’t the construction crew supposed to be starting? You can’t leave until you’re sure they know what they’re doing. I don’t have time to deal with them, even for a day.”

  Marcy shook her head slowly, the slick blond strands of her ever-present ponytail whipping behind her. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she took a deep breath, held it and finally let it go. As chests went, hers was…fine. He tended to prefer big-breasted women with a huge handful he could grab hold of. Although it was hard to tell where Marcy was concerned. Despite the fact that they worked in a tropical location and the dress code was fairly relaxed, she insisted on wearing business suits when she was working—which was always.

  He’d decided that the slacks, skirts, blouses and tailored jackets that still somehow seemed a little too roomy over her body were her personal armor. He just hadn’t been able to discover what she was hiding from. At first he’d wondered if it was men in general. He worried maybe she’d been attacked. But as he’d watched her dealing, smiling and, hell, almost flirting with their male guests over the years he’d decided that couldn’t possibly be it.

  And while she hadn’t taken a lover in the past two years—at least not one that he was aware of, and he knew everything that happened on his island—it wasn’t for lack of offers. If she hadn’t said yes to anyone, it was because she hadn’t wanted to. Marcy McKinney was definitely the captain of her destiny and knew exactly what she wanted at all times.

  It exhausted him just to think about that kind of structured existence.

  “I’m not leaving for the day.”

  “But you just said you were.”

  “No, I said I needed to go over this—” she waved the papers again; now that he looked at them, the stack appeared rather large…and the type on them awfully small “—before I leave tomorrow. I’m taking two weeks’ vacation.”

  “The hell you say.”

  “We talked about this, Simon.” He heard her warning tone, but chose to ignore it.

  “I don’t remember you mentioning you were leaving these two weeks.” Although it was possible he hadn’t been paying attention to her. He did have a habit of tuning Marcy out when she spoke. But it was usually because whatever she was saying wasn’t important to him—at least not more important than the other thoughts flowing through his mind.

  He’d learned early that pretending to listen and nodding appropriately were usually enough to keep her satisfied. That way, they both walked away with a smile. Win, win.

  “I most certainly did. We talked. I sent you reminders. Hell, I even went on your computer and blocked the days out on your calendar.”

  “You went on my computer?” A nasty mix of anger, disappointment and betrayal burst through him. It was a knee-jerk reaction, the result of what Courtney had done. Not only had she stolen his work, she’d destroyed every speck of evidence that it had ever existed on his computer. She’d ruined his backup hard drive. She’d left him nothing to fight with.

  He didn’t like people messing with his computer.

  Clenching his hands into fists, Simon invaded Marcy’s space, bringing them nose-to-nose. She sucked a hard breath through her teeth, but didn’t back away. Her bright blue eyes searched his, puzzled and off-kilter. It should have been enough for him, but it wasn’t.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “Jesus, Simon, what is wrong with you?” She finally pushed against him, trying to get him out of her personal space. He didn’t move. “I knew you’d ignore my emails and forget our conversation. I was trying to help.”

  “I didn’t ask for your help,” he growled at her.

  Her eyes flared, the surprise quickly being overwhelmed by irritation. “Actually, you did when you hired me,” she snapped.

  For the first time Simon realized he wa
s towering above her, his tall body curled over hers. Anyone else probably would have bowed backward under the intimidation tactic. Not Marcy. Sometimes it was easy to forget how tiny she was. Her confidence and competence more than made up for her size.

  “Move back,” she said and then waited patiently for him to do exactly what she’d ordered. Everyone always seemed to fall in line for Marcy. It was irritating.

  Just once he wished she’d do him a favor and fall in line for him.

  Instead, he slowly stepped away. She glared at him, her eyes sharp and hurt. He refused to apologize or explain his reaction.

  And yet somehow the words fell from his lips anyway. “Look, I’m sorry, Marcy. I need you here during the break. I have something important that requires all my attention. I don’t have time to handle the resort, too.”

  “Bullshit.”

  His molars clanked together. “Excuse me?”

  “Only a few of the staff will be left. I’m interviewing the candidates for head of security tomorrow before I leave. The construction crew is here, their materials will be tomorrow. Before I leave, I’ll make sure they have a clear agenda for the two weeks. These—” she waved the damn papers again “—contain every possible scenario that could come up and how to handle it. It’s the perfect time for me to take a vacation. You can’t afford for me to be gone while the resort is full.”

  She had a point there. Although in a couple weeks he should be done with this book and could probably handle things for a little while.

  “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” he said, flashing her one of his patented grins in the hope that it might soften her up a little. It had always worked on women in the past, although somehow Marcy seemed immune. “Next month you can take as much time off as you want.” Within reason, but they’d cross that bridge only when she forced him to the edge of it.

  “No, Simon. You can’t charm your way into getting what you want with me. I have plans.”

  “Change them.”

  “Nonrefundable travel plans.”

  “I’ll pay the difference.”

  “And people waiting on me to show up. Simon, I’m leaving tomorrow afternoon. Short of you kidnapping me—and not even you are that stupid—you’re going to have to find a way to deal without me for the next two weeks.”

  His hands clenched again and a headache began to pound behind his eyes. She didn’t understand and he couldn’t explain it to her, not without revealing his secret. Or telling her why his privacy was so important to him that he would hide his identity in the first place. And he just wasn’t willing to make himself that vulnerable, not even with Marcy.

  She was leaving, huh? Well, they’d just have to see about that.

  2

  THE RESORT WAS QUIET. Disturbingly silent without guests. There was no one splashing or yelling at the pool as she dragged her three matching pieces of luggage behind her. No couples strolling hand-in-hand across the warm sand. No painted-up thirtysomethings in string bikinis sipping drinks beneath cabanas and waiting to pick up whatever hot guy strolled past.

  She was used to the hustle and bustle, and the place seemed almost eerie without it. As if the island itself were sad that no one was there to play and frolic.

  The locals had a legend about Île du Coeur, something about finding your heart’s desire—whether it was what you’d come looking for or not. She’d never really paid that much attention to it because she didn’t believe in that sort of stuff, but at this moment the island felt almost alive.

  As if maybe anything was possible.

  The caws and whistles of the birds deep in the jungle and the ringing of hammers as the work crew repaired the restaurant roof broke through the moment. Their supplies had arrived on the morning ferry, and the last of the staff and the two candidates she hadn’t hired for head of security had left. She’d been surprised when Xavier, the man she’d hired, said he was prepared to stay and start immediately. She wondered briefly what kind of person could pack their entire life into a single suitcase, but decided she didn’t have time to find out. He was more than qualified for the position.

  The repair of the roof was the first in a long list of upgrades and maintenance the crew would be handling over the next two weeks. Hurricane season was upon them and the last thing they needed was leaky roofs or unstable buildings. Marcy seriously hoped for their sake that everything went smoothly. She’d never actually seen Simon lose his temper, but something told her that between the distraction, the length of the list she’d left and her departure, he was precariously close to the deep end.

  Too bad.

  Served him right for not appreciating the long hours, detailed work and effort she’d put into this place for him. Instead of praise, she got snarky remarks and needling innuendos. Instead of understanding, she got exasperation and a locked door in her face.

  Hopefully, no more. She was going to charm the socks off whomever she had to in order to get the hell off this island and back to the big city. Cramped apartments, twenty-four-hour Chinese food, men in suits, museums, shows, culture…that was her idea of paradise.

  Her suitcases bumped across the raised boards of the dock. Normally she was a light traveler, preferring to fit as much as possible into one carry-on bag. The thought of losing all her luggage made her chest ache. But during her time at Escape, she’d collected more stuff than she’d realized. And hoping that she’d be able to tender her resignation from New York, she’d packed everything she owned. Well, at least anything she’d wanted to take with her. Her father had taught her that some things just weren’t worth the trouble.

  Arranging her luggage in descending order, Marcy lined them up perpendicular to the boards, stared out across the vacant water and then looked at her watch. She was a little early. With a shrug, she plopped her butt onto the top of her largest suitcase and prepared to wait. She thought about pulling out the novel she’d packed into her carry-on but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. She had ten, fifteen minutes at the most.

  But, oh, it called to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to crack open the spine of a good thriller. She loved them, a holdover from the days when her father would pass along his finished books to her. They’d shared that excitement, spending hours discussing the finer points of their favorite books over dinner.

  Her love of thrillers wasn’t the only thing she’d inherited from her dad. His workaholic, detail-oriented, high-expectation requirements had also come with the genes. A familiar sadness crept up on her. He’d been gone for almost five years, but it still hadn’t gotten any easier.

  Although she supposed there was a silver lining. He’d have been so disappointed in her over the New York debacle. Tears stung her eyes, but Marcy refused to let them fall. It had been two and a half years, and still it upset her.

  She’d been so lonely. Looking for companionship and support and someone to share her life with. Marcy thought she’d found that in Christoph Fischer. Yes, she knew better than to sleep with someone she worked with—her boss, no less. But he’d swept her off her feet and she’d been helpless to resist. It didn’t help that they’d spent so much time together at work.

  Even before she’d started at his hotel, she’d heard rumors that he and his wife were divorcing. A year later, when he began asking her out, she assumed the divorce was final. Shame on her for not checking!

  The humiliation of discovering—in the middle of a crowded ballroom filled with industry professionals—that his wife was very much still a part of his life was something she’d never forget. Neither was having champagne thrown in her face and obscenities rained down over her head. Marcy had never thought of herself as a home wrecker, had never wanted or planned to be one.

  Being lied to by someone she’d trusted was terrible enough, but then he’d had the audacity to fire her. And blackball her with every other reputable hotel in the city…

  She’d taken the first job that she could—Simon’s offer—as far away from the city as she could g
et. She’d needed the time away. She’d desperately needed the job. And she’d needed the line on her résumé—a buffer between the debacle and whatever would come next.

  But that was all behind her now. And this interview was the opportunity to make a fresh start. Surely, over two years later, everyone would have moved on to juicier gossip. She’d gotten the interview after all.

  This job was her ticket back home. Back to civilization and structure.

  A frown on her face, Marcy looked at her watch again. The tropical sun was baking her scalp and exposed legs. If she’d known she was going to sit here for a half hour she would have put on sunscreen. The ferry was definitely late. Standing, she walked to the edge of the dock and craned her neck to see if the squat vessel was visible across the water. It wasn’t.

  This was exactly the kind of thing that drove her crazy! The entire place ran on island time and she was so sick and tired of it. Didn’t anyone respect punctuality anymore? The ferry was routinely late. People waited five, ten, even fifteen minutes on occasion, but never this long.

  Maybe the ferry crew figured that with a skeleton staff and no guests to deliver, there was no hurry. With a scowl, Marcy returned to perch on top of her bag. They were going to get an earful from her whenever they did finally arrive. She had a plane to catch. Thank God she’d built some “disaster” time into her schedule.

  * * *

  SIMON STARED out the window at Marcy. He’d left his apartments and walked around to the far side of the building so he could watch her. Part of him couldn’t help but chuckle at the agitated way she kept jumping up from her seat on that coral-colored suitcase to pace along the length of the dock, only to sit back down again.

  The suitcase was unexpected—he would have thought she was more of a traditional black or brown kinda girl—but her reaction wasn’t. The only reason Simon was standing there watching her was that he was a coward.

  He’d meant to go down there at three, to cut her off as she reached the dock and explain that she wasn’t going anywhere because he’d called and canceled the ferry service for the next two weeks. But he’d gotten involved in a scene. The words had flowed, and considering that hadn’t happened in the past few days, he’d been reluctant to walk away.