Shelter In The Tropics

“That ought to get us there,” he said, and straightened. He was so damn tall. And those muscles. He took a step closer to her and without thinking, Cate backed up. He was too big, too...muscled... Too damn attractive. She felt his gravitational pull and the only way to break the spell was to somehow get out of his orbit. She took another step backward and a flash of alarm lit his face as he looked over her shoulder.

Before Cate knew it, he’d grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her against the side of the minibus. Before she could even squeak, an oversize white delivery truck rumbled past. Too big for any one lane, its white cab would’ve knocked Cate flat if it weren’t for Tack.

She could feel him breathing as hard as she was, his fit, muscled stomach against her, her face nearly eye to eye with his chest. She could smell him—sweat and salt and the hint of some fresh scent, like laundry drying on the line. Cate ought to have been thinking about how she’d almost been killed by a truck, but instead, all she could think about was Tack’s hard body against hers, how every nerve ending in her body seemed to come alive. It felt like her body had been sleeping, and now, suddenly, every cell was awake, and they all wanted one thing. All she wanted to do was to press herself closer to him, to wrap her arms around his back and feel his sturdiness. She could feel his chest rise and fall and wondered if he felt it, too, this electric rush, this sudden, powerful want.

As she glanced up at his face, she saw his brown eyes studying hers, his eyebrows crinkled with worry.

“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his body against hers, his bulk still protecting her from the rush of traffic behind him.

Considering all she wanted to do right at that moment was stand on her tiptoes and see if she could taste his lips, she already knew the answer to that question. I might never be okay again.

CHAPTER TWO

TACK WAS ALL too aware of Cate’s body against his, warm and pliant. The way she was looking at him right now made him want to kiss the life out of her, to make her moan with want. Nothing like a life-or-death situation to speed up the libido, he thought, but then wondered if saving her from a speeding truck had anything to do with the fact that he didn’t want to take his hands off her.

Her green eyes studied him, her pink lips parted as he waited for an answer.

“I...I’m fine,” she managed to say, but never broke eye contact. He’d always been able to read women, a talent he’d learned early when overnight in high school he’d grown a foot and put on thirty pounds of muscle. They’d gone from ignoring him to waiting at his locker, giggling and blushing all the while.

He could swear the way she craned her neck, the way she leaned into him, she wanted him. The thought sent a thrill down his spine. She wanted him. He had her pinned against the minibus, but she made no move to flee. Her eyes told him she wanted to stay right where she was.

The deep-seated satisfaction this little revelation brought him surprised even him. He wanted her to want him. He’d felt the desire to put his hands on her since he saw her waiting for him at the baggage claim.

He felt drawn closer to her and before he knew it, he was just inches away from her lips. All he’d have to do was drop down a little more...and he’d be kissing her. He wondered what she tasted like. He wanted to find out.

But he couldn’t. Not now.

With great reluctance, he pulled himself away. He saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She wanted that kiss as much as I did. There was no doubt in Tack’s mind.

And then, another, not-so-nice thought popped into his mind. I could use that.

He wasn’t proud of himself for it. Didn’t like how the thought felt oily in his mind, but it was the truth. He had to use every advantage he had. He knew that better than anyone.

Tack watched Cate as she scurried to pick up the wrench and carried it back to the van. He reached out and grabbed the flat, easily lifting it and putting it underneath the carriage where the spare had been. They both climbed back into the minibus.

“Uh...we’re not too far from the resort,” she said, not looking him in the eye, a blush creeping up the side of her cheek as she settled into the driver’s seat once more.

Cate’s mobile phone came to life then, blaring an easy Caribbean tune, and Tack saw her grab the phone from her pocket. “Mark?” she breathed into the phone. “Yes, I’m on the way. Just had a flat, but...” She paused, listening. “No, a guest helped me change it.” For the briefest of seconds, Cate met Tack’s gaze and a deep blush swept her neck as she swiftly looked away. She might as well have been telling him how she felt about their almost-kiss. He wondered how a woman who wore her emotions so clearly on her face could plot to kill her husband, steal from him and flee the country with his only son. She looked to him like an open book.

Which was probably what made her so very dangerous.

Cate glanced away and pressed the phone to her ear. “We’re fine...Really...We’ll be there in two minutes...I will. I promise...Okay. Bye.”

She tucked the phone in her pocket and smiled sheepishly at Tack. “That’s my current business partner. He...” She paused. “He was just checking up on me. Wondering what was taking so long.”

“Protective?” More like possessive, Tack thought and then wondered why he felt a pang of jealousy.

“He just worries about me.” She smiled at Tack in the rearview mirror, but her answer didn’t make him feel any better. A man who called when a woman was ten minutes late from the airport had to be more than a business partner.

“Sounds like he cares about you. Boyfriend?” he asked, and wondered why the word felt so bitter on his tongue.

A laugh burst from Cate, and she shook her head. “Oh, no. Mark’s happily married. His wife, Carol, helps me run the resort, and they’ve got a fifteen-year-old daughter, Grace, who is an amazing high diver. Might even try to get a scholarship in the States.” Cate guided the minibus around the cliff bank and then took a right turn into what seemed like jungle.

The tightness in Tack’s chest eased.

“So, he’s not the boyfriend. Dating someone else? Or are you married?” Technically, he already knew she was divorced. Rick Allen had filed for divorce in her absence and had the courts push it through about a year ago.

Cate didn’t even flinch. “God, no,” she said, and laughed, flicking her long blond hair over one shoulder. The laugh sounded so genuine. “Too busy being a single mom,” she said lightly. No trace of irony in that at all.

“Oh, how old is your child?”

“He’s four,” she said, and he could hear the pride in her voice. “He’s an amazing swimmer. And so very sweet.”

“It’s probably none of my business, but...what happened to his dad?” Tack watched Cate carefully, studying her reflection in the rearview mirror and trying to pick up on any signs of discomfort, of deceit. Her narrow shoulders stiffened ever so slightly, he noted, but she kept her expression neutral.

“He died,” Cate said, voice flat. Her foot nudged the accelerator a little bit more. Seemed like she might want to get to the resort a bit faster.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No. It’s okay.” Cate shrugged and then turned, throwing an almost too-bright smile over one tanned shoulder. “Looks like we’re here.”

Tack glanced out the window and realized they’d taken a turn and were now out of the thick brush and into a cleared parking lot, with a three-story, white brick hotel sitting about a hundred yards from the pristine beach. The blue-green water of the Caribbean sparkled in the sunlight, and a sole, mature palm tree offered shade for a few empty white lounge chairs. Beyond that lay a boat moored at a long wooden dock. Tack could just make out the name painted on the stern: Lost and Found.

Indeed, Cate Allen, he thought as he looked at the lithe blonde who shut off the minibus’s engine. You were lost, but now you’re found. He was more convinced than ever he’d found his target.

“Gorgeous view,” Tack said as he grabbed his seabag and slung it over one shoulder.

“We provided the clean sheets and breakfast buffet, but I can’t take credit for the view,” she said. “Mr. Reeves, if you’ll follow me? I’ll get you checked in.”

The formality wasn’t lost on Tack. He’d been kicked back from first-name basis to formal stranger. As the two walked into the hotel’s lobby, Tack felt a cool blast of air-conditioning, and the air smelled like coconut oil. White marble tile lined the floor, and dark wicker furniture made up the spacious check-in area. Tasteful, he thought. A man with gray, nearly white hair, wearing khaki Bermuda shorts, sprang up from the love seat.

“You okay, Cate?” he asked in gruff voice, concern etched in his face.

“Mark, I’m fine. Uh...Mr. Reeves helped with the flat.” Cate turned and nodded. “Mr. Reeves...this is Mark Gurda. He co-owns the resort with me.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tack said, and extended a hand, noticing that Mark eyed him with suspicion, taking in his build and his seabag.

“Marines, huh?” Mark said, but it didn’t sound like he approved.

“Yep.” Tack nodded. “Retired, though. If you can ever be retired from the marines.” He’d leave out the part about the dishonorable discharge. No need to split hairs.

Mark gave a curt nod but quickly shifted his attention back to Cate. “I...need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”

Cate hesitated. The man wasn’t just a business partner, that much was clear. And Tack knew more than anyone that being married didn’t mean he wasn’t sleeping with Cate. He’d been hired to catch more than one cheating spouse. As Tack glanced down at Cate’s long, tanned legs, he thought, Who wouldn’t throw away marriage vows for that?

“Mr. Reeves, if you’ll head to the front desk...” Mark nodded curtly away from them, leaving no mistake about his meaning. Get lost. Tack eyed the older man. He hadn’t heard of Gurda before now. She must’ve met him after she’d run away, and somehow convinced him to invest in the resort. But, given all she was said to have stolen, why would she need a coinvestor? Tack would find out.

“May I help you, sir?” called a pretty fortyish woman with short, bobbed hair and a quick smile. She stood behind the front desk. Reluctantly, Tack left Mark, who was speaking in low tones to Cate about something he wanted to overhear. “Don’t mind my husband,” she added. “He’s gruff on the outside, but a teddy bear on the inside. I’m Carol Gurda. Welcome to St. Anthony’s Resort.” She tapped on the computer behind the desk, and when she looked up again, Tack was leaning on the counter near her. “Oh...my...you’re tall.” She craned her neck to look up at him. “Bet you get that a lot.”

Tack shrugged. “A little bit.” He grinned. While Carol looked up his reservation, Tack couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at Mark and Cate. They’d walked off a few more paces and stood by the window, talking in low tones about something a little too serious for Tack’s liking. Lover’s tiff?

“Cate’s great, isn’t she? Just a doll,” Carol gushed, watching Tack watching Cate.

“She’s captured my attention, that’s for sure,” Tack said, which wasn’t a lie.

Carol eyed him with interest. “You’re staying for a week?” she asked him.

“So far,” he said smoothly. “But I’ve got a flexible schedule, so could I extend the trip if I wanted to?”

Carol brightened further. “Absolutely, you can.”

“I might want to get to know one particular local better.” He grinned at Carol and she returned the smile.

“Cate? You know, Cate’s just the best. I keep hoping she’ll find someone, though my husband tells me to quit meddling. That it’s none of my business, but look at her. Why is she single?”

“Indeed. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen,” Tack said. This was also not a lie.

Carol beamed as she grabbed the newly minted key card from the register. “Beautiful inside and out. She really is a sweetheart. Honestly.”

Here’s someone else who thinks she’s nice. Tack had interviewed every person he could find who knew Cate, down to her high school algebra teacher. They all said the same thing—about how sweet she was. Still, people could be fooled. Besides, what sweet person would take a son away from his father? It didn’t make sense.

“Are you single?” Carol asked, glancing at Tack’s empty ring finger.

“You running a matchmaking service?” Tack joked, and Carol grinned.

“Maybe.” Carol sighed. “I just want Cate to be happy. She’s been very—” she hesitated “—unlucky.”

“Her husband dying.”

Carol hesitated a beat too long.

“Right.” Carol nodded. She kept her eyes fixed on the computer screen in front of her.

“Sometimes feeling normal again takes a while,” he added. “My dad died when I was twelve, and it took me years to get over it.”

Instant pity registered on Carol’s face, and her mothering instincts seemed to take over. “Oh, you poor thing.”

“Bad things happen sometimes.” He shrugged. “If I did want to get to know her better...” Tack let the insinuation linger. “What would you suggest?”

Carol’s eyes brightened. “Well, dinner for guests starts at seven, but Cate...she always eats in the dining room around six.” Carol lowered her voice and leaned over the counter. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Hear what? You told me what time dinner was, but darned if I just couldn’t remember.” They both shared a little laugh. “I’ll just be early to be on the safe side,” Tack said, exchanging a conspiratorial grin with Carol.

“I like you already,” Carol said, and handed him his room key.

CHAPTER THREE

HE’S GONE. MAYBE I can avoid him for the coming week he’s here, Cate thought as she watched Tack’s tall, lean form leave the lobby and felt a little breath of relief escape her. Something about him... And it wasn’t just his intelligent eyes and capable hands, either. Something about him just screamed trouble. Just because she went all gooey in his arms didn’t mean she ought to ignore her instincts. They’ve got me this far. I’ll need to keep my guard up. Cate almost laughed to herself. When did she ever let her guard down? She’d chosen a life where she now had to look over her shoulder every day. But it was better than the life she had with Rick. There was no doubt in her mind about that.

“Did you hear me?” Mark asked her as he drew her attention back to him. “We’re in the red, Cate. Big time. I’m not sure how we’re going to keep the lights on next month if we don’t get more guests here.”

Cate sighed. This was becoming nearly a daily conversation with Mark. “I know.”

“We need to do more marketing,” Mark insisted, tapping his open palm. “More Yelp. More social media.”

“No.” It came out harsher sounding than she intended. “And you know why.”

And he did. Mark had been there almost from the beginning of her escape. He was the one who got her a fake passport, who snuck her out of the country.

Cate had met Mark by chance at one of the big charity galas Rick so liked to attend. Her ex always wanted everyone to think he was so generous, so magnanimous. Cate remembered watching Rick from the corner of the elegantly appointed hotel ballroom, sipping a glass of expensive champagne, thinking about how she felt like she was suffocating.

“You’re mine,” he’d said in the limo ride over. He’d clutched at her arm in the back seat, his hand a metal cuff, his fingers digging into her flesh like teeth. “You and my son. Don’t you ever forget it.”

How could she ever? He treated his wife and son like possessions, toys that belonged to him, to do with as he pleased. To the outside world, he was the reclusive billionaire, the mysterious genius who’d turned over one amazing land deal after another but never granted an interview. But no one knew the dark, brooding, insecure man like Cate did. No one knew how much he secretly drank, how hard he worked to make the small, elite circle who did know him think he was charming, how desperate he was to keep things in his control. The lengths he’d go to make sure they stayed that way.

When she’d first met him, she thought he’d just loved her more than anyone else had loved her. He was dogged in his pursuit, determined to have her, and she’d been flattered. That was the truth of it. At first, she thought his intense interest was a compliment, a testament to his love. She never dreamed it would become so twisted.

Then, inexplicably, there at the ball, watching him surrounded by a small circle of admirers and sycophants, watching him pretend to be the man he wasn’t, she felt sick to her stomach. She’d glanced at herself in a mirrored column and saw to her dismay a bruise blooming on her upper arm. She realized she’d sweated off some of her concealer, and it was the middle of the summer so she wore no wrap for her sleeveless gown. How could she be so stupid? She felt exposed and desperate to cover it up.

“Are you all right?” Carol had asked, a woman she didn’t even know, with her husband by her side, a sympathetic look on his face.

It was that small act of kindness that underlined just how long it had been since someone was kind and considerate, that broke her. She started to lose it. Her hands shook. Tears sprung to her eyes, and tears would only wash away the caked concealer she’d used to cover the fading bruise on her cheek. Cate remembered Carol had somehow steered her to the bathroom. How she’d remarked on the bruise on her arm. “I don’t think you’re all right at all,” she’d said. “How can I help?”

She’d graciously accepted Carol’s tissues but told her she’d be fine.

“Here,” Carol had said, handing her a business card with their Caribbean address. The two had been in town only for the charity event, one they attended every year. “My husband used to be a lawyer. We can help you. When...it’s the right time.”

It was only a few months later, when everything went so terribly wrong, so out of control, that she reached out to them for help. She’d be eternally grateful they answered the call. She felt someone up there was looking out for her that night. A chance encounter with kind strangers would save her life. Yet even now, three years later, she was still scared, still worried that it wasn’t over.

“I know this doesn’t make sense,” she said. “I know we should do more advertising...but...”

“You’re scared.” Mark always seemed to know what she was thinking. “There’s no link to your old life. I made sure of that,” Mark said. She knew he was right. Before he retired early and moved his family to the Caribbean, Mark had spent his career helping clients set up shell companies so they could hide things they didn’t want found. But Rick Allen was never one to take no for an answer. He always used to say you don’t build a billion-dollar empire by giving up. How many different ways had he told her the Allen family didn’t have quit in their blood?

After what she’d done to him... After how she’d left him...

She shuddered. No, he’d never give up. Not now.

“We don’t have to use pictures of you. We could find a way to advertise this without...putting you out there. We have to do something.”

“I know. I know we do.” Cate felt the sudden weight on her shoulders. If they didn’t make this resort work, then what? Cate had pawned the jewelry she felt couldn’t be traced back to her. But she still had the quarter-million-dollar engagement ring. Though, if she sold that, she knew it would come back to her. He’d had it custom made, and probably had every major jeweler looking for it. She had more real estate, too, adjacent to the resort, but she’d been hoping to keep that. Expand the hotel in better times.

“Besides, maybe he’s stopped looking for you.” Mark met Cate’s gaze, but even he didn’t believe those words.

“You know he won’t.”

Mark sighed. “I know.” He glanced toward the hallway, where Tack had walked, and shook his head. “Maybe we should hire that new guest for extra muscle. He’s built like a wall and what is he? Like six-four? He feels like a cop.”

“He’s a former marine.”

“Yeah, I saw the seabag,” Mark said, and grinned. “If he were your bodyguard, you know who wouldn’t even dream of coming near you.”

“I’m not so desperate that I’m going to go recruiting our guests, Mark.” Though, she had to admit, the thought of Tack by her side made her shiver just a little. She glanced at her watch and realized it was time to pick up her son from preschool. “I need to get Avery. We’ll talk about this later?”

“We’ll have to,” Mark grumbled.

* * *

THE SMALL PRESCHOOL sat in a cluster of palm trees next door to the island’s only aquarium, a tiny but clean building mostly frequented by tourists with kids. A pretty glass mural of a sea turtle swimming in gleaming green water kicked back the light. In the parking lot, iguanas sunned themselves on the stucco path, not even bothering to move as Cate walked by, her big straw bag slung over one shoulder. The sound of little kids laughing found her, and she walked back around to the fenced-in play yard. She saw Avery climbing up the ladder of a slide, his curly blond hair flying into his eyes as he sped down the plastic chute.

“Mommy!” he cried as he saw her and bounded to the gate. Her heart felt like it might explode. She felt this way every time she looked at her son, unable to believe that such a sweet boy had come from her...and Rick. The minute he was born, Cate remembered vowing that she’d protect him from every harm the world had to offer. Even if that harm might come from his own father.

The preschool teacher nodded at Cate, recognizing her and opening the gate from the inside. Avery bounded into his mother’s arms and squeezed her neck tightly.

“Avery!” she cried as she scooped him up, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you today, bud?”

“I made a crown!” he told her, showing her the construction-paper craft he’d decorated with markers and glitter. “It means I’m king!” His green eyes sparkled in delight.

“You sure are,” she said, and hugged him a little tighter, whipping his too long honey-colored hair from his face. “And the king needs a haircut.”

“Aw. Weally?” His adorable lisp temporarily disarmed her. As did the truly disappointed look in his green eyes. They were her green eyes. Every time she looked at Avery she saw herself. She was grateful for that. Though, of course, there were reminders of Rick. In the way Avery smiled sometimes, the expressions on his face. But Avery was all rainbows and sunshine, a bright ball of love and nothing like Rick in all the ways that mattered.

“Yes, really, sire. You need a cut.” She mussed his soft hair and he laughed. Cate carried him over to her little hatchback.

“Look, Mommy. Blue! My favorite color,” Avery said, grabbing the crown and showing her his scribbles. He might just be four, but he was an expert at diversional tactics.

“Blue is pretty, honey.” She was strapping him into his car seat when he held up the crown.

“Do you think Daddy likes blue?”

The question stopped her in her tracks. Avery had gone nearly a year without even mentioning his dad. Now, suddenly, here he was asking questions.

“I don’t know, sweetie.” She tried to keep her voice steady. Rick didn’t have a favorite color. Not that she knew of. If he did, he’d probably get a copyright and then declare that color off-limits to everyone else, she thought.

“Do you think there’s a lot of blue in heaven? Where Daddy lives?”

“I don’t know.” Cate felt rattled by the questions. More so than usual. She also felt an unexpected pang of guilt. Yes, she’d told her boy his father was dead. That was a lie, but what else could she do? Tell her perfect little boy the truth?

Your father is a monster.

No. She never wanted him to know that. Because Avery wasn’t anything like his father, and she planned to keep it that way.

“I bet you’re hungry,” she said instead. “Ready for dinner?”

Avery nodded. “Snack!” he demanded, opening up his hands.