Rub It In

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 was 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.