Touch of Paradise. Dara Girard
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slice of pineapple with his fork.
“You shouldn’t sound so proud of it.” Candace waved her fork at him before she stabbed another melon slice. “You’re going to get bored with her. You’re a lot wilder than you think, little brother. Remember, you’ve got the blood of a pirate running through you.”
“I’m nothing like our ancestor,” Aaron said, picking up his fork again, feeling suddenly restless. He hated the comparison. It made him seem more mysterious than he actually was. “That’s what disappointed Ina the most. She thought she was marrying someone else.” Early in their marriage, he discovered she had bought into their ancestral history and thought she had married a “rogue,” and was very disappointed.
“She was stupid. She didn’t know what she had.”
“Martha is good with Brandon.”
“Of course she is,” Candace said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “She’s a librarian, for goodness’ sake.”
“Teacher,” Aaron corrected.
“See?” Candace waved her hand again, as if he’d just proven her point. “She’s paid to be good with children.”
“And she’s smart and—”
Candace shook her head again. “And she’s still wrong for you.”
“She loves this island as much as I do, she likes my son and she likes me.”
Candace set her fork down. “Are you thinking of marrying her?”
“It’s too soon for that, but—”
“But you’re thinking about it?” She removed her sunglasses and stared directly at him.
“I’m ready to marry again,” he said, avoiding her gaze.
Candace sighed and folded her arms. “Promise me one thing.”
He looked at her. “What?”
“Don’t get too serious about her until after the fashion show.”
A month later, Candace’s words still echoed in his head. Aaron turned from the window, trying to let the memory of that talk fade, but it wouldn’t leave him. He still found the request odd. He was a grown man. He didn’t need his older sister’s blessing on anything. But he still remembered the look on her face when she asked him to wait until after the show. He recalled how sly she looked. But if she thought surrounding him with an endless supply of beautiful women would change his mind, she’d be disappointed. But would she go this far to get him involved? He sighed when he heard a quiet knock on the door.
“Come in,” he said, returning to his desk.
His eight-year-old son, Brandon, entered and he felt some of his annoyance subside. His son was the only thing he didn’t regret about his marriage. “What is it?” he asked with a smile.
Brandon bit his lip. “Promise you won’t get mad.”
“I can’t promise you that, but tell me anyway.”
“I’ve looked everywhere.”
Aaron’s smile fell. “Looked for what?”
“Can you please promise not to get mad?” Brandon said, nervously playing with his fingers and turning his feet inward.
He stood. “Brandon.”
“At least don’t shout,” he said, straightening his shoulders and trying to look brave.
Aaron folded his arms. “What happened?”
Brandon hung his head and spoke to the floor. “Trident is missing.”
As a child, Rebecca Cromwell feared the monster under the bed. At twenty-nine, she finally saw it. It was the last straw. Her nerves were already frayed due to three days where everything had gone wrong. Since landing on St. James, she’d faced one mishap after another and feared that the latest incident would severely hamper the success of her upcoming fashion show.
She’d hoped for some time to decompress, since over the past three days she’d hardly slept or eaten. After scrambling to find replacements for the three models she’d lost, she’d decided to take a long, hot shower and enjoy one of the luxurious amenities in her spacious suite. It was one of thirty private villas that lined the secluded cove where Red Beacon Villa Resorts was located. She could see the sun’s rays dancing along the crystal clear waters from one of her many palatial windows.
Humming to herself, she’d left her bathroom and crossed the cool bare marble floors, and she’d planned on a quick nap when she saw a green head with dark eyes peek out from the shadowy depths under her bed. She screamed and jumped on the mattress. That’s when she thought that being on top of the monster was worse than seeing the monster, so she jumped off the bed and up on a chair.
“Rebecca!” Her assistant, Kelli Davis, pounded on her front door. “Are you okay?”
“It’s open.”
Kelli rushed into the room with her hair uncombed, half-dressed, her shirt still hanging off her shoulder and jeans unzipped. She stared up at her. “What’s wrong?”
Rebecca pointed with a shaky finger. “There’s something under my bed.”
Kelli grinned. “Giant dust bunnies?”
“No, something big and green. Don’t look!” she said when Kelli bent down to look under the bed.
“Then how am I supposed to see what it is?”
“I already told you what it is.”
Kelli ignored her and lifted the sheet, then screamed, stumbling back. “Oh, my God, you’re right. It’s huge. We have to kill it.” She madly looked around for something to grab, just in case the thing came out from under the bed and tried to attack her, but couldn’t find anything.
“I’m not going to kill it.”
“Then what are you going to do?” Kelli finished zipping up her pants and adjusted her top.
“Get someone to get rid of it.” Rebecca jumped down from the chair and ran out the front door, and smack into a wall. Or what she’d at first thought was a wall before something grabbed her and kept her from falling backward. She gingerly touched her face, her nose still stinging from the impact, then glanced up and nearly screamed again.
It was him. Mr. Beautiful. Mr. Wonderful. The man who’d once been the object of her dreams. Her hero—Aaron Wethers. The man who’d broken her heart ten years ago.
Just like everything else in his life, time seemed to have given him an advantage, broadening his shoulders, refining his impressive physique. The wind and the sun seemed to have ripened the beauty of his brown skin, making his handsome features almost majestic. And her traitorous heart responded to his compelling, golden-brown gaze.
She knew she’d see him again, but she hadn’t planned on a moment like this. She had planned on returning to St. James as a success, so that he could see how much she’d changed. She’d planned to be cool and suave, and hoped to seduce him by showing off her gorgeous figure, casting a glance in his direction then ignoring him. But now her show was in trouble and she’d crashed into him after racing out of her villa with no makeup on, her hair in total disarray and wearing just her bathrobe.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Goodness, even his voice was better than she remembered. Deep and intoxicating as rum punch, his island lilt made her want to step closer and listen more. “I’m fine,” Rebecca said in a voice that was too high. She gathered her robe close around her and tightened the sash, wishing she’d at least put on her bra and panties, but she hadn’t, and at that