Just Another Day in Paradise

A burst of cheers and whistles greeted that.

“That said, anyone have any problems that need to be dealt with before opening day?”

“We need a new movie service,” somebody called out. “This one just runs the same old stuff over and over.”

Rider grinned. “Just so happens I brought along a really big satellite dish. Anybody know how to set one of those puppies up?”

Laughter and cheers met that as well. When no other complaints arose, he nodded in satisfaction.

On some other level of his mind, beneath the part that was handling the speaking task, he registered that there was a redhead in the back row. She snagged his attention, as any woman with hair of that particular rich, autumn-leaves shade did. Even after five years.

It wasn’t that he thought about it a lot. It was not, after all, his finest hour, and he didn’t like dwelling on it. In fact, in a life that held few regrets, that one woman stood as an eternal torch of reproach.

He shook off the memory and began again, scanning the room, trying to make eye contact with everyone. “I hope to meet with you all over the next ten days, and I want you to feel free to bring up anything you want. Some of the best ideas come from you, out on the front line, and that’s what I’m here for.”

It was a motivational statement, Rider knew, but it was also true, and Redstone believed in it. And the staff responded, nodding as they turned and glanced at each other. There was a reason Redstone was consistently in the top ten on lists of best places to work.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s business or personal, I—”

Rider was only vaguely aware he’d stopped talking. Or that he was staring. A beefy, broad-shouldered man had shifted in his seat, giving Rider a full view of the woman with the coppery hair.

It can’t be.

She sat there at the very back table, staring down at folders in front of her. He silently urged her to look up, to face him so he could be sure. But she didn’t. Or wouldn’t. And he was sure, anyway. He knew he couldn’t mistake the long, thick braid of hair, the line of her cheekbones, the tilt of her nose. He knew if she looked up, her eyes would be that rich, cinnamon-brown. He knew it.

But it can’t be.

He lifted the now-forgotten page of statistics and grabbed at the personnel roster Barry had given him. He scanned it quickly and let out a sigh of relief; her name wasn’t there. It was a fluke, just a resemblance. He’d reacted out of guilt, that’s all.

Steady again, he moved to slip the roster back beneath his page of notes. It snagged on something, and he reached to free it from the small piece of paper stapled to the back of the roster.

He glimpsed the last few words on the note before his page pulled clear. He grabbed at it, tearing it loose from the staple. And there it was, immutable and real. The news that the teacher had arrived nearly a month ago to get the island school up and running before the opening. The teacher. Paige Cooper.

He’d hoped never to see her again. He’d hungered to see her again. He’d never resolved the contradiction. And now the contradiction was sitting in front of him.

The only woman who had ever made him throw whatever decency and common sense he had out the window.

The only woman who could shame him with just a look.

The only woman who had ever made him ache for her in so many ways he couldn’t even count them all.

Paige Cooper, sitting there, refusing to look at him, reminding him all the more of what he’d done the last time he’d seen her. He remembered his earlier assessment, and decided he must have really ticked off whatever god was in charge of his fate at the moment.

The ship he’d thought was going to have a smooth sailing had just encountered a reef.

Chapter 2

He had a roomful of people staring at him, and Rider couldn’t for the life of him remember what he’d been going to say. He wasn’t at a total loss often enough to have learned how to deal with it well, so he knew he was fumbling now. He took refuge in the numbers and details he could spout without thought and began the rundown while his mind raced.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised. It was a very Joshua-like thing to do, to hire the widow of one of his people. Especially since Phil Cooper had been killed while working for Redstone. Even though the man hadn’t been one of Redstone’s hires originally—he’d been a vice president of a purchased company—Josh didn’t make a habit of wholesale firings at new acquisitions.

I would have fired him, Rider thought, anger spiking even after all this time. But he knew his feelings were biased. The Redstone investigation into Cooper’s death had been, as usual, thorough and deep. In fact, the deepest one he’d ever seen, because the plane had been brought down over Portugal by a terrorist bomb. After five years they still didn’t know exactly who had done it, they’d only succeeded in narrowing down the possibilities. And discovering that Cooper had left his widow in unpleasant, if not dire, straits.

Rider knew the truth about why Phil Cooper had been on that plane. If he hadn’t, he would have felt only a vague sorrow at the death of a man he’d hardly known. And only a pity-tinged sympathy for his wife.

But instead…

With an effort he shoved his thoughts aside. He finished acknowledging the impressive list of things accomplished since construction had started. And finally remembered where he’d been before he’d gotten derailed.

“As I was saying before jet lag caught up with me,” he joked, “whatever you have to say, I’m here to listen. Those of you who have worked for Redstone, you know I mean it. Those of you who are just starting out, welcome.”

He started to move away from the podium, then turned back. “Oh, did I mention the party? We’ll be having it two days before the opening.” He managed a grin. “Two days, because we expect you to enjoy it so much it’ll take that long to clean up for the opening.”

A rather raucous round of applause greeted that statement, loudest from those who had worked at a Redstone resort before and knew that they definitely knew how to throw a party.

Rider waved in recognition of the good cheer and left the small lectern. The moment his mind was freed from the task of conducting the meeting, it leaped back to the subject he’d tried to suppress.

Paige Cooper. Here. Unavoidably here.

He let out a compressed breath. He’d long ago given up trying to convince himself that what he’d felt five years before was just sympathy. He’d felt a lot more than that. And what he’d felt had led him to actions so uncharacteristic that he’d shocked himself. He still couldn’t quite believe it.

And if his reaction just now was any indication, those feelings had only been in hibernation.

His smooth-sailing ship, he thought grimly, had just run aground.

I should have known, Paige moaned inwardly. How could it not have even occurred to me that it would be him?

She barely managed to gather up her papers, and nearly dropped the tote bag in her haste. She dodged out of the dining room and headed for the outer door at the fastest pace she could manage without running and drawing attention. Once outside she slowed, pressing her fingers to her face, wishing for an icy-cold breeze. Her fingers were cooler than her overheated cheeks, but not cool enough. Ice, she thought. Ice would be good.

“You idiot,” she muttered to herself. “You’re such a fool.”

She knew, had known even back then, that Noah Rider was one of Redstone’s premiere point men. That he ran all over the world, setting up new operations, finalizing things. So why on earth hadn’t she realized there was a good chance the exec sent to oversee the final stages of Redstone Bay would be him? True, she’d been busy, her classes had started barely a week after she’d arrived so the kids would be in the routine by the time the resort opened, so there had been little chance for her to hear his name mentioned, but still—

“Paige? You all right?” Miranda Mayfield, head of technical services and mother of two of her students, put a hand on her shoulder.

“Fine. Thank you.” She sounded completely unconvincing, even to herself. Miranda looked doubtful, and Paige tried to pull herself together. “It must have been the crowd,” she said. “I’ve gotten used to the quiet here.”

Miranda smiled. “It is that, isn’t it? Almost makes up for those rascals you’re trying to teach.”

Paige managed a smile. “They’re good kids.” Except for mine, at the moment, she amended silently.

“They like you. And you’re giving attention to all of them, despite the difference in ages. All the parents are pleased. We know that can’t be easy to accomplish.”

“Thank you,” Paige said again, meaning it this time. It was sweet of Miranda to tell her that.

When the woman had gone, Paige took in a deep breath of the balmy air. She was steadier now. Steady enough to marvel at how shaken she had felt just moments ago.

But perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. Not when she’d just been faced with the man who’d inspired her to the most impulsive thing she’d ever done in her generally traditional life. Her husband’s body not even brought home yet, and she’d shared a passionate embrace with a man she barely knew. An embrace that could easily have led to more, had the arrival of her son not interrupted them. Her recollection of that time wasn’t clear, was mercifully lost in a sort of fog, but that one vivid, shocking memory was forever seared into her mind.

She had been able, since then, to rationalize her actions. Given the circumstances—all of them—she obviously hadn’t been herself. But there was no analyzing away her reaction to the man. What she’d done, practically throwing herself at him, might have arisen out of her emotional state, but her response to him, to his mouth, to his hands on her, had been purely physical and unlike anything she’d ever known before or since.

And if she’d succeeded over the past five years in pushing him out of her mind, it had been made clear to her just now that her body remembered him perfectly. So perfectly it had nearly forgotten how to breathe when he’d walked into the room.

It made no sense. She knew who he was, what he was, that he was a globe-trotter of epic proportion. That alone should be enough to send her scurrying; she’d been down that road once and still carried the scars. But instead she had been drawn, aware not only of the piercing blue of his eyes and the male strength of his jaw but the empathy she’d seen in his eyes and the gentle touch of hands that somehow seemed to ease the pain.

And if the jump of her heart just now and the pounding that had followed when she had realized it really was him were any indication, she was still drawn. Powerfully. Painfully.

Foolishly. That above all. Noah Rider was many things, including good-looking, smart, trusted by the shrewd and brilliant Joshua Redstone, and a high-powered executive, just as her late husband had been. What he was not was a man for a woman like her. Or perhaps any woman. She’d heard his work came first, last and in between.

She heard the door open behind her again and wished she’d gone before the motherly Miranda had come back to check on her again. With a “Really, I’m fine” on her lips she began to turn. But she froze; the footsteps she heard did not belong to the petite, usually high-heeled Miranda. They were heavier, more solid. Male. Yes, definitely male.

She should truly have run when she’d had the chance.

The footsteps came to a halt behind her. Every muscle in her body seemed to tighten as she waited, holding her breath. It could be anyone, but she knew as clearly as if she’d turned to look who it was.

The silence spun out for a long, aching moment.

“Paige?”

She let out the breath she’d been holding, in a long, inaudible sigh. It took every bit of nerve she had to do it, but she turned to face him.

“Hello, Noah,” she said, softer than she would have liked, but more evenly than she’d expected. And then regretted it, when a faint flicker in those eyes reminded her he was usually referred to as Rider by everyone else.

For a long moment he just stood there, staring at her. He was as big as she remembered, at least six feet, a good eight inches taller than she. His hair was just as dark, and he wore the same kind of conservative gray suit—although because of the tropical locale, lighter weight this time—he had worn the last time she’d seen him.

And he still looked so incredibly strong. She had almost convinced herself that she’d only thought he was because she herself had been feeling so wobbly and weak at the time. But now she knew better.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said abruptly, the words coming out in a rush.

She took another quick, steadying breath to be sure her voice would come out normally.

“And I didn’t know the project coordinator would be you. Although I suppose I should have,” she added honestly.

Only after she’d spoken did the implication of his first words sink in. I didn’t know you would be here. Meaning what? That if he had, he wouldn’t have come? Would have made them send someone else? Had she embarrassed him that much, made him feel so awkward he would actually let it get in the way of his work? The thought made her so hideously self-conscious that she scrambled to fill the silence.

“I wanted to tell you—the project coordinator, I mean, that the school is really wonderful. You did an excellent job planning the modernization.”

He blinked once, his brows furrowed slightly, then he seemed to relax. So he had felt awkward, she thought. No doubt he was glad she’d brought up something so…safe.

“Keeping your family with you is one of the perks of working for Redstone.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said. Phil had never wanted to avail himself of that option.

But she also knew from the staff—whenever they weren’t talking about the problems brewing in nearby Arethusa—that the staff housing and the school were directly overseen by the coordinator. “But I know the coordinator made several changes and additions to the school plans, and they’ve worked out very well for the children.”

His mouth quirked at one corner. “I figured the indoor plumbing would be a hit.”

Paige blushed, wondering if he was inwardly laughing at her. Perhaps he always had been. Poor, new widow, throwing herself at the first man who tried to comfort her. Maybe that’s all she was to him, a slightly embarrassing, mostly pitiful memory. She couldn’t blame him for that. It’s how she thought of herself back then, too. But she was stronger now. Much stronger. He’d no longer find much trace of the wobbly, uncertain woman she’d been in those days after Phil’s death.

“I had more in mind the computer center,” she said, making her voice match her more determined thoughts. “The kids are already using it, even ones who’ve never seen a computer before.”

One dark brow lowered, as if at the new intonation in her words. “I’m glad to hear that. There was some…discussion over the extra construction it took for the wiring.”

She read between the lines and said, “Thank you for fighting for it, then.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t much of a fight. They knew if it got all the way to Josh, he’d approve it.” His forehead creased. “Is your son with you?”

“Yes and no,” Paige said wryly, then regretted the words. Her problems with Kyle weren’t something she wanted to discuss, least of all with this man.

“Does that mean he’s here physically but not mentally?”

“Exactly,” she said, surprised he’d gotten her meaning so quickly. “He’s not happy with me for making him leave L.A.”

Rider scanned the lovely vista before them, inviting pathways through gently waving palm trees, stretching down to a pristine white beach.

“One man’s paradise is another man’s hell,” he said softly.

He’d surprised her again. “And L.A. was this mother’s hell,” she said, her voice rather sharp. “Kyle was headed for serious trouble, and I was not going to let it happen.”

His gaze snapped back to her. “He never came around? After he found out…?”

He paused, clearly uncomfortable. She’d been so focused on the stupid things she’d done, she’d forgotten Rider had met Kyle, however briefly, in the days he’d been with her after the crash. And that his concern had stretched to both of them. Perhaps if she’d been more aware of that, she would have seen that he’d merely been being kind, not sending an invitation to the widow.

And suddenly she knew she couldn’t go on like this. If she were to get through the time he would be here, she couldn’t handle the strain of either trying to dodge him or feeling this horrible knot in her stomach every time she saw him. Not on top of dealing with Kyle and keeping up with her students.

She bit her lip, not knowing how to say it, then finally just blurted it out. “Could we talk?”

His brows furrowed for a split second, in what she thought was a flinch. “Is that talk with a capital T?”

The woman she’d once been might have given up. Might have ignored the elephant in the kitchen, hoping it would magically vanish, as she had done with too much else. The woman she was trying to be would not.

“Let’s just say—” she looked around at the people who had exited the meeting and were now milling about, some glancing their way “—that I don’t want to do it here.”

“Paige, is this necessary?”

She hadn’t really considered that this might be as distasteful to him as to her. He’d probably managed to forget all about that night, until he’d walked into that meeting and seen her, the painful reminder.

It would be better for both of them, she thought. She was sure of that. “It’s necessary for me,” she insisted.

He let out an audible breath. “All right. I’ve got meetings the rest of the day. What about dinner?”

She frowned; that sounded too much like a social occasion, and while this wasn’t really business—except the unfinished, personal kind—she didn’t feel comfortable with the implications of a formal dinner engagement.

“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly when she didn’t answer. “I should have realized you wouldn’t want to do that. Later this evening then?”

“Fine,” she said, wondering why he suddenly sounded so odd.

He appeared to be thinking for a moment. “The overlook?”

The deck built out over the steepest slope down to the beach would most likely be private enough. And convenient, she thought sourly, if she decided to jump off.

“Fine,” she repeated. “You just got here, do you know where it is?”

“Theoretically, from the plans. I need to check it out in person, anyway.”

He sounded more natural now, but still stiffer than before. Dreading this, she assumed. “It won’t take long,” she assured him. “Eight?”

“Fine.” He echoed her acceptance.

“All right.” She became suddenly aware that several of the people from the meeting were still lingering, and she realized they must be waiting for him. “I’d better go. People are waiting to speak to you, I think.”

“Seems to be my lot in life today,” he muttered.

She winced inwardly, but said nothing as she turned and hurried back toward her bungalow. After tonight it would truly be over. She would deliver her long-overdue apology, he would hopefully accept it when he understood she was as embarrassed as he, and they could both put that night behind them.

“I’m going with you.”

“No,” Paige said firmly. “You’re not.”

Kyle eyed her stubbornly from beneath the old, dirty baseball cap he still insisted on wearing backward despite the brilliant flood of sunlight here. The two earrings that pierced his left earlobe glinted, one gold, one silver and black. The second was a rather grim representation of a skull she hated but hadn’t made an issue of, for fear it would make him determined to keep wearing it whether he really wanted to or not.

“Why not?”

“To start with, you weren’t asked. Mr. Rider and I have things to talk about.”

“You’re going to talk about Dad, aren’t you? So I want to go. He knew him. I want to ask him some things.”

“We have school business to talk about.” That much was true; she did want to give him at least a brief report on the school and the students’ progress. “Besides, he didn’t know your father well at all.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he said so. Mr. Rider only met him briefly a couple of times.”

“Then why did they send him, after he died?”

She’d wondered that on more than one occasion herself. Wondered what would have happened—or not happened—if they’d sent someone else.

“I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll ask him.”

She gathered up the lightweight blue shawl to toss over her shoulders; the breeze had been picking up at night lately, and while it was hardly cold, it could be cool on bare arms. At the door she paused and looked back at her son.

“Don’t forget you’ve got that history assignment, and the next chapter of Beowulf to read.”

She thought he swore under his breath, but wasn’t sure enough to call him on it. “Bad enough to have to go to school, but living with the teacher sucks.”

“You’ve been living with a teacher all your life,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but you weren’t my teacher.”

She gave him a long, steady look. “I tried to be,” she said. “About the things that really count, at least.”

He turned and walked away, into his bedroom, without a word. He’d taken to doing that recently, walking away from any discussion he didn’t want to have. She was going to have to call him on that soon, convince him that running away from the unpleasant didn’t work. She was certainly living proof of that.

As she walked toward the lookout, she rehearsed in her mind yet again what she would say. There was no easy way to apologize for having so embarrassed them both, and having thought about how she would do it countless times hadn’t helped.

How did you apologize for something like that? The man had been there as a representative of her husband’s company, he’d been doing his job, nothing more. They’d been kind enough to send him to see if she was all right or needed anything they could provide. Her emotional state had been so very tangled and fragile, and she had clung to him. And he had let her, comforting her, giving her his strong arm to lean on and broad shoulder to cry on. He’d helped her through the ugly process, even made the arrangements to have Phil’s remains shipped home on one of Redstone’s own planes.

For nearly two weeks he’d been there to help. And then, one night after a nasty emotional outburst from the grieving Kyle, a night when she’d felt more alone than she ever had before, she’d leaned on his strength once more. He’d held her, soothed her…but when she’d looked up into his eyes she’d thought she’d seen something more, something warm and hungry.

She’d responded to that look, imagined or not, with a speed and urgency that had astounded her even as it was happening. The next thing she knew she was kissing him. Hotly, deeply, in a way that made her blush at the memory even now, five years later. And the fact that he kissed her back, the fact that after a few moments his strong hands had begun to caress her, to rouse in her startling sensations that made her shiver, didn’t ameliorate her own responsibility for what had happened.

And what might have happened, had Kyle not just then slammed back into the house, fortunately through the kitchen door, giving them time to recover before he walked in on them. If she thought he was angry with her now, she could only imagine how he might have felt had he seen his mother kissing another man before his father’s body was even home, let alone buried.

Of course, Kyle didn’t know what she knew. At least she’d managed to keep that from him. It hadn’t been an easy choice, but it was the only one she could make. Her son had already been in agony. She couldn’t risk any further damage.

Rider was there, waiting for her. She stopped a distance away, looking at him silhouetted against the fading light. He was leaning forward, hands braced on the railing, staring out at the sea. The light breeze caught his shirt and swirled it. He’d changed into casual clothes, she saw. Khaki pants, it looked like, and a Hawaiian-style shirt in muted colors. Navy-blue and tan, the same shade as the khakis, she thought. And realized with a little jolt she’d never seen him, this man who had taken up permanent residence in her memory, in anything other than a suit. Until now.