Robyn Grady - Australia - Wicked Mistresses

His ears were pink with irritation, and there was a weird, distant look in his eye. She wasn’t mistaken. There was far more to his questions than simple interest. Did he trust her enough to tell her what was wrong?

Maybe if she gave him a chance to thaw out?

She collected the bottle off the counter to make two strong coffees. But when she screwed the lid it wouldn’t budge. She clamped the bottle under one arm and twisted hard. Stuck fast.

In the meantime, Gabriel had frowned over. “Are you staying on the island with friends?”

She sighed. If only.

She took a hesitant step nearer. He sounded so gruff. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because I need to know what people are saying. What they’re thinking. ”

When he thumped his fist against the wall she jumped. Then he growled under his breath, something about, “… hiding out here … playing Huck Finn … should be back there, making changes …”

With worry choking off her breath, she slowly brought the bottle close to her chest. “Gabriel … what are you talking about?”

Letting out a defeated breath, he sank into the chair.

“I bought this island a week ago,” he ground out. “It’s on the brink of bankruptcy, and I’m here to make sure everything and everyone who doesn’t perform is eliminated.” He lifted his chin. “Pronto.”

The coffee bottle slipped from her hands, smashed, and shattered to pieces. As the crash ricocheted off the walls, Gabriel shot to his feet. The way Nina’s face had paled, the way her hands clutched at her throat, she might have thrown a javelin that had missed his heart by an inch.

She stared blindly at the mess at her feet, then fixed her huge topaz-coloured eyes on his.

“I broke the bottle,” she croaked out, and when her lashes blinked he thought he saw her eyes glisten.

This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He hadn’t wanted three cheers, but owning Diamond Shores wasn’t chickenfeed. Or it wasn’t to him. His announcement was at least worth a sentence or two of recognition. Still, God knew how much Nina’s family was worth. Owning an island might well seem inconsequential to many of the guests who stayed here.

He ground his back teeth and ploughed a hand through his hair. It frustrated the hell out of him. Regardless of how far he’d come, there were still times when he felt like someone’s poor relation.

Nina was concentrating on the mess on the floor, as if she couldn’t get her mind around how to clean it up.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he moved forward. “Don’t worry about that.” There was more to worry about than an old broken bottle.

But she didn’t seem to hear. Instead her hands covered her face. “Oh, God, what a mess.”

He took her hands from her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” he said more gently. “I’ll get someone in to clean it up.” But she wound out of his hold, stooped and began to pick up the pieces. He hunkered down and eased the glass from her hand. “You don’t need to do that.” When she collected another piece, he held her wrist. “ Nina, I’ll get a maid in from the resort.”

Biting her lip, she stood and spun away, her hands bracing the counter. “We should go. We should go now. ”

He tugged an earlobe and groaned.

Okay. He had an idea what was wrong.

Stepping closer, he cupped her shoulders. “Don’t be embarrassed. Yes, I own the island, but I’m glad you told me how unhappy you are with the resort.”

When he’d arrived three days ago he’d introduced himself to key people but had insisted that his true identity be kept from the rest of the staff. He wanted to experience April’s wedding and the resort incognito. He’d also made it clear he needed to be informed of every suggestion for improvements and all complaints.

After he’d jogged to the resort this morning, to bring back some wheels, he’d dropped in to his bungalow and had been greeted by an avalanche of messages. Various managers wanted his ear. One guest had complained he’d been injured—the result of an incompetent ski-boat driver. A celebrity wedding had been cancelled; the bride had heard rumours regarding “off” seafood. The music at the nightclub wasn’t exciting enough. The childminders weren’t any fun.

And so it went on.

A meeting was scheduled for the day before he flew back to Sydney—Monday. He and the managers would crunch figures and implement a kick-butt game plan. But this morning he hadn’t wanted to face the hassle. Face the possibility that this time he might have gone beyond his limits. He’d only wanted to get back to Nina and re-ignite the fires which had raged within these walls last night.

She affected him like a drug, and he wanted to enjoy that all-over high again and again. But he’d been an idiot, a coward, to buy into that distraction. His captivating lover also happened to be a guest at Diamond Shores—a guest who’d admitted in the plainest of terms how dissatisfied she was with the facilities. Talk about a wake-up call.

Every day, every minute counted towards getting this resort back on its feet.

He moved to collect the parcel bag he’d brought in.

Nina was right. They needed to go.

“I put your clothes in to be laundered. I had one of the boutique managers—”

“Whose name did you use?”

To clean her clothes?

He frowned. “Mine.”

Surely she wasn’t concerned about a pair of cutoffs? Although second-hand-looking fashion could be sexy.

He retrieved a wrap and a one-piece from the bag.

So, too, was designer fashion.

From the bottom of the bag he handed over a pair of sunglasses. Her eyes rounded and a puff of wind left her lungs; he might have handed her a priceless jewel.

“I’ve seen these in the window. They’re Bulgari.” She pointed out the arms. “Those are real diamonds.”

As if on autopilot, she slipped them on and moved to the window to check her reflection. He was feeling somewhat redeemed, thinking about how big a bonus to give that astute boutique manager, when Nina’s shoulders came down and she lowered the shades.

She turned back with a sombre face. “I can’t accept these.”

He gave her a sidelong look. “You don’t like them?”

“I love them.”

“Then don’t be modest.”

Although he did admire that quality. Women he dated were often eager to hear about gifts—the more expensive the better. When they started talking diamond rings, he stopped calling. He’d had no time for that kind of commitment. He had less time now.

“It’s not modesty.” She joined him and handed the glasses back. “Not really.”

His laugh was edgy. “Nina, you’re confusing me.”

She inhaled deeply, then her gaze lowered.

Why was she acting like this—avoiding eye contact, drawing away from him? It wasn’t that she was overwhelmed by the fact he owned this place. The only other logical answer came to mind.

“I’m not trying to fob you off,” he assured her. “These aren’t payment or a pay-off for last night. I wanted us to spend the day here together.”

He’d wanted her in that bed again tonight. And their time together didn’t have to be over.

Why couldn’t their connection continue back at the resort? He didn’t know how long she was staying, but surely he would be able to wangle at least some quality time with her before he left on Monday.

His hands settled on her hips and he urged her close. “I have an idea. Move your things into my bungalow. You haven’t been happy with Diamond Shores, but I’ll do everything I can to fix that.” His forehead tipped against hers and he grinned. “Our own private beach. The staff will treat you like a princess. There’ll be hell to pay if they don’t—”