“There are virtual reality places where you sit in a little enclosed cockpit and fly a jet, or race a hydroplane or Formula One car,” she said. “You should go. You’d like it.”
“It’s a date,” he said. “After we sort out this bootlegging mess.”
Date? Why was he continually circling Glory and saying the wrong things? His comparison of the two women was unsettling for him and unfair to both. Never mind confusing. He needed to deal with that.
• •
“I’ll think about it,” she said, aware it would be one of his last chances at having fun if Alyssia got her clutches into him.
Alyssia. Tal hadn’t mentioned her or asked for tips on how to get close to her since that trip to Carnation two days ago. Of course not. He was concentrating on this business in Antigua. Maybe she should offer an additional week of her time when they got back. To make sure he got his whole month. Yeah. That was why.
Tal snapped his fingers. “Any numbers we need to agree on under five, I’ll tap my foot on the floor. You know, like those horses or dogs that can count. I’ve always wanted to do that.”
Glory burst out laughing. “You’re on your own there.”
• •
Touchdown in Miami was twelve minutes ahead of schedule. Glory rolled her neck as they walked onto the concourse. “I’m going to freshen up, stretch my legs, and buy a bottle of water. Can I get you one?”
“Sounds good,” Tal said, looking at his watch. “I’ll meet you at the gate. We should start boarding in a half hour.”
She made for the women’s lounge and peered in the mirror. Her clothes weren’t wrinkled too badly, but she had a slight case of sleep hair. Brushing her teeth was in order, too. They had served a creative version of a Philly steak sandwich for lunch, generously topped with onions. Which, since they were traveling in close quarters, she removed. She smiled. Tal had set his to the side, too.
Her carry-on clamped firmly between her feet, Glory finished freshening up and was washing her hands when the most amazing woman walked up beside her. She looked about Glory’s age and started poking at a tall mass of bright red hair that Marge Simpson would’ve envied. Glory tried not to stare at the vision of long, blood red fingernails penetrating the tower of lacquered red hair, but she was caught.
“I saved for months to get this hairpiece,” the girl grinned. “It took hours in the salon to get it put in and the veil just right. Then I had to wear it home. The veil, I mean. I got married yesterday.”
Glory smiled. “Congratulations.”
The redhead held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Patti with an i. It’s really Patrice, but everyone calls me Patti. I used to sign the i with a heart, but since I met my husband, I got more mature and don’t do that anymore. We’re going to Antigua to honeymoon at a Hotel Doo. That’s French for two, like couples.”
The Philly steak sandwich turned to rubber and rolled around in Glory’s stomach. She shook the girl’s hand. “I’m Glory. That’s where my husband Tal and I are headed.”
Patti with an i clapped her hands. “That is so cool. My Johnny said there won’t be anything to do so we probably wouldn’t leave the room. Get it?” She batted at the air. “He is such an animal. But, now I know someone who’s going to be there and we can do stuff together.”
Glory searched her memory for the list of activities Hotel Deux offered, trying to find some this girl and her husband would not be interested in. “We’ve signed up for snorkeling lessons and bicycle and hiking tours of the island,” she said, injecting energy into her words.
The redhead’s eyes glazed over at the mention of water and exercise. She giggled. “How about lunch tomorrow? Daddy’s paying for the trip as a wedding present so we’re having breakfast in bed every day. I’m going to work on a tan, too, but that’ll be by the pool.” She took one more poke at her hair. “I sure hope they have good stylists at the hotel.”
The volume of information imparted by Patti made Glory’s head spin. “Lunch tomorrow is good. We’ll see you around. Our room is under the name Kingston.”
Glory headed to the gate, hoping she hadn’t complicated their objective on Antigua. With luck, she and Tal wouldn’t cross paths with Patti and her husband often. When she stopped at a newsstand to buy bottled water, a man flipping through the sports magazines caught her eye. Wraparound sunglasses perched on the back of his slicked-back hair and a heavy gold chain lay at his throat. He wore a bright turquoise shirt printed with tiny Vargas girls.
“Isn’t he somethin’?”
Glory nearly jumped a foot at Patti’s soft-spoken words.
The redhead looked moonstruck. “My Johnny has that effect on women. I’m a lucky girl.”
“Yes, you are,” Glory agreed as she dug in her pocket for money to buy the water. She plunked down the bills for her purchase, electing to leave without her change, as Patti walked toward her new husband.
Tal was reading a travel guide when she stopped in front of him. “I met this woman who’s really friendly. She and her husband are spending their honeymoon at Deux. I hope they don’t turn out to be pests.”
He tilted his head to glance around her. He grinned. “Do they look like extras in a low-budget mob movie?”
Glory winced. “Sort of. I told her we had plans for the weekend, so go along. Okay?”
He winked. “Never a dull moment. It’ll be fine.”
“There you are,” Patti gushed from behind her. “I wanted you to meet my Johnny, but you ran off.”
Glory turned to see Patti’s happy face and the frank appraisal of the man from the newsstand now standing beside her.
Tal stood and put his arm around her casually. He stuck out his hand. “Talbot Kingston.”
Patti’s husband sized him up. “Johnny Petrone.”
Patrice Petrone? Glory squelched a smile and nodded. “Glory Danvers.”
A frown creased Patti’s forehead. “I thought you were married?”
“We are,” Glory said, surprised at the rush that lie gave her. “I retained my maiden name. I’m incorporated and I publish under it.”
“You write books?” Patti fairly squealed.
“A blog so far. I’ll be doing a piece about Deux while we’re here. I’m also putting together material for a book.”
“It’s like meeting a movie star,” Patti said, hands clasped.
Johnny Petrone rolled his eyes. “Always got her nose in a book. Had to say no books on the trip or we’d never get to the honeymoon business.” He bobbed his eyebrows. “Know what I mean?”
Tal smiled in agreement, then gave Glory a quick hug. “You can’t beat beauty and brains.”
Glory felt her face and neck grow warm. “I almost forgot. This is Patti.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Tal offered, sounding like he really meant it.
“Same here,” Patti said. “So, how about lunch tomorrow? We should be over the jet lag by then.”
“Sounds good for us,” Tal said. “We’ll meet you in the lobby at noon.”
As soon as the Petrones were out of earshot, Glory turned to him. “That was really nice of you, but you’re here to find the source of those bogus products. I can meet them alone and make an excuse for you.”
Tal lifted a hand, grinning. “An hour one way or the other won’t make or break my search. Lunch with them will add to our goal of looking authentic.”
• •
The flight to Antigua seemed almost as long as the entire trip across the U.S. Tal was bushed when they landed and found the car rental counter. They picked up the Jeep he’d reserved and they were on their way. Glory acted as his navigator so he could concentrate on driving on the left. They watched for landmarks because not all of the roads on the island had signs.
They made it to the hotel with only one wrong turn. After they checked in, a brightly dressed young man with polished ebony skin intercepted them. He was holding a camera.
“Are you ready for your first picture?”
Tal glanced at Glo
ry. “We didn’t order a photographer.”
“You are Mr. Kingston and Ms. Danvers?”
“Yes.”
“Your deluxe room package comes with six professional pictures.” He grinned, showing beautiful white teeth. “That’s me. I’m Samson, the hotel photographer. You want to remember your romantic getaway, yes?”
Even with her short nap, Glory had heavy eyelids. Tal took pity on her. “My wife and I have been traveling since four this morning. Can we do this some other time?”
“Of course. Just call the bellman’s desk.” Samson winked. “My personal favorite is carrying the bride over the threshold. I myself have not yet met my Delilah.”
Tal smiled at the biblical reference and the soft, Caribbean accent. “We’ll let you know.”
The room was much nicer than Tal would’ve reserved for himself and he got a kick out of Glory’s reaction. She dropped her carry-on and drifted toward the wide, private veranda. The sun was near the horizon and cast an amazing Technicolor array of pinks and golds. A warm breeze carried the heady scent of bougainvillea. It surprised her as that flower had no fragrance. It must be one of the hundreds of hybrids.
She turned to Tal, smiling. “Wow. I’ve never traveled at this level of luxury. I bet the bathtub’s huge.”
An image of Glory lying in a big tub with bubble-slicked water sliding across the top of her breasts popped into Tal’s mind. Then went directly to parts south. He tightened his grip on his bag.
It didn’t help when she ran her hand up the back of her neck and arched into it. “Would you mind if we freshen up and order dinner in? I know we ate on the flight, but I’m still hungry.”
“Fine with me,” Tal said. “Ladies first. I’ll put my stuff away and do some exploring.” And maybe walk into the ocean to get my head straight.
Glory smiled gratefully. “Thanks. I’ll make it quick.” She walked toward him to retrieve her bag and stopped a few feet short. “Tal, look.”
He followed her gaze and saw a gaily-wrapped basket sitting on the small table to his left. Among an assortment of fruit, small packs of nuts, and candies, sat a jar of Kingston’s You’re the Berries fruit topping. A cold lump slid into his stomach.
Glory pulled the jar through a slit in the cellophane. She turned the label to the logo, then passed it to him. “It’s not one of ours.”
Tal took it, anger mixing with dread. “Let’s order vanilla ice cream for dessert. Try out our complimentary topping.”
She laid her hand on his arm. “You’ll get this straightened out.”
He relaxed at her touch. “Too bad this is not supposed to be very good. We could take advantage of the free advertising.”
“Then you’ll turn it into an opportunity,” she said, rubbing his arm lightly. “Once the bootlegged products are gone, Kingston can sell to the resorts here. The real stuff will knock their socks off.”
That was inspired, Tal thought. If the hotel wasn’t involved, they should be more than happy to rectify the situation by giving his product line a fair trial. He would be an even bigger hero to Alyssia. Why didn’t he feel better about that?
True to her word, Glory took a quick shower. She came out of the bathroom and swung her arm toward it. “It’s all yours. And I was right about the tub.”
Tal held up a menu. “Just found this. Would you go ahead and order for me? Any fish and fruit would be fine.”
The shower felt great; pounding out some of the stress in his back from sitting all day. Glory was poring over a map when he came out.
“This was in the desk,” she said. “The island’s bigger than I remember. Over a hundred and eight square miles. Glad you thought of getting a rental car. Maybe we should expand our search; see what we’re up against. Start with some of the other major resorts and shops to see if they carry the non-legitimate products.”
He’d been so focused on Hotel Deux, the extent of the possible damage to his company’s reputation hadn’t fully registered. Kingston Limited’s future was slipping out of his control. He clenched his jaw and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. When he opened them, Glory’s dusk-softened gaze regarded him. “Sorry,” she said, “just babbling conjecture.”
“No,” he said. “That’s all right. We need to think bigger if we’re going to get a handle on this. The map’s a great idea. Let’s order some food and work on it after.” He wrinkled his nose. “What is that smell?”
“I lit the outside torches,” she said. “According to the room information card, they double as insect repellent. I guess the unobstructed view is supposed to be more romantic, but there’s a screen you can pull into place if you want.”
“This is fine.”
She nodded at the menu on the desk. “I ordered a shellfish salad for me and blackened fresh tuna with grilled papaya for you. And some white wine.”
The juices in his mouth started flowing. “Sounds good. Want something from the fridge while we wait?”
Glory had put on a short jumper of a soft green material. Her long, slender legs stretched under the table as she yawned. “I already had some water. Let me know what my part of the tab is for extras. I don’t want to take advantage.”
A soft knock at the door saved Tal from responding to Glory’s verbal opening. He crossed the cool tile floor to the door. A waiter announced room service and wheeled in a cart. He set the table and beamed at Tal’s tip. “I’ll be back in a half hour with the ice cream.”
Tal glanced at Glory.
She held up her glass of wine. “We can always scrape it off if it’s that bad.”
Dinner was delicious and Tal was toying with the idea of using papaya in a new sauce, when the waiter returned. Tal scooped a small dollop of the topping on each dish. “Here goes.”
He sucked it to the back of his tongue, but the subtle technique wasn’t necessary. Its thin consistency and poor quality due to immature berries was evident. His spoon clattered to the dish.
Chapter Seventeen
Glory licked her lips and punctuated her words with her empty spoon. “It’s not awful, awful.”
Tal thought she was nuts. “It’s terrible.”
“To you, yes,” she said. “And that woman who wrote the letter could taste the difference. So could I.” She held up her hand to stop his protest. “But, to people who aren’t used to top-grade makings and the richness of Kingston products, it’s not awful, awful.”
Tal stared at her. The woman whose letter had started this whole investigation had said she used Kingston products for years. Hope for their mission and admiration for Glory untied the knot that had formed in his stomach. “Right. Okay. At least we know what we’re up against.”
Glory had scraped the topping off her ice cream. “No use wasting the good stuff.” She took a big bite.
Tal followed suit. “I think we should start with the hotel purchasing agent, or somebody who works in the kitchen.”
“Agreed,” Glory said as she stood and walked to answer the tap at the door. It was their waiter.
“May I clear the dishes?”
“Come in,” she said. “We’re done.” She glanced at his nametag. “Um, Pierre, as long as you’re here, could you tell me where I can go to get one of these darling baskets made up to ship home?”
His smile widened. “Yes, ma’am. Just speak to the concierge. The baskets are made locally and I’m sure she can arrange for whatever you wish.”
“Thank you,” Glory said. “That’s good to know.”
He collected their dishes and left.
• •
Tal padded barefoot across the room and locked the door. Talking to him in his office or meeting in a public place was way different than sleeping in the same room with him, Glory thought. They were alone again with a beautiful view, just as they had been in his apartment. A memory flash of the kiss she’d started warmed her face. With even fewer clothes on he looked incredibly sexy in the room’s dim light.
She watched as he picked up a quarter from the table.
He flipped it in the air and slapped it on the back of his hand. “Call it.”
Pulling herself from her wandering lustful thoughts, Glory frowned. “What are we deciding?”
“Who gets the bed first.”
“Oh. Tails.”
He peeked at the coin. “You win.”
She wasn’t convinced. “I could take the couch. I fell asleep on my folk’s couch a lot when my mother was ill. I wouldn’t mind.”
Tal slipped the coin back to the table top. “Nope. You won. I read that your mother was deceased on your application. I’m sorry. That must be tough.”
He’d gone through her file. Why? “I thought that information was private to HR,” she said.
Tal looked sheepish. “I don’t make it a habit. It’s a small privilege of being a department head. When we request someone’s file, they assume it’s because we’re interested in filling a position.” He ducked his head. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t married before I, you know, offered you the extra-curricular job.”
That made sense. “Oh. Yes, losing my mother was, and still is, hard to think about. We were close.”
The look on his face was compassion, not pity. She had only told her ex-fiancé Ethan and Catherine about how her mother’s death had affected her and was surprised at how easy it was to confide in Tal.
“What about you and your brother?” she asked.
He started making up the couch. “I was adopted by Steven Kingston when I was nine,” he said. “He married my mother. They’re very happy.”
Glory stayed quiet. He was sharing himself with her. Maybe because she had shared with him, maybe not.
Tal sat and continued. “My biological father is still alive. Living in Montana. He had what’s called a clinical obsession for my mother. An overwhelming jealousy that eventually drove her away.
“He’d pop home at odd times of the day. Sometimes twenty minutes after he left. My mother would stand in the kitchen with her arms crossed while he ran from room to room, looking in closets and under beds. He never found anyone. When he was done, he would try to explain. ‘There’s a white Honda parked in front of the Alden’s house,’ he would say. ‘A strange man drives it.’ Or ‘A man gets off the bus and walks to the park down the street twice a week. All by himself.’ My mother packed our suitcases one day when I was seven. We never went back. My father didn’t object to my adoption. I was just someone who took Mother’s attention away from him.”
Chasing Glory Page 12
