What a Girl Wants

by Selena Robins

  He still couldn’t figure out why a woman like her would have to go to such lengths to get any man to make love to her.

  The same could be said for why a man like him kept dodging her offer.

  Too bad his conscience kept winning the wrestling match against his desire for her.

  Don’t start that again.

  He knew she had never behaved this way with other men, and he also knew why she lacked confidence. For all her talk and bravado she still had no idea how truly sexy she was. He wanted to tell her so many times that she didn’t have any reason to doubt her sex appeal. But from now on any sex-oriented conversations with Maddie were off-limits.

  It was no use dwelling on it. This assignment would be over in a few weeks and with any luck, he’d soon hear that he got the promotion to England.

  He went inside and made a pot of coffee.

  While the coffee brewed, he sat and turned his laptop and Blackberry on. He might as well get some writing done.

  Shuffling his chair, his foot crunched one of the papers he had ripped out of his printer earlier and thrown on the floor. When he was working, it didn’t matter how big a space he had, it would never be organized. Journalists were notorious for using the floor as a big flat filing cabinet.

  And Maddie thinks I’m a neat freak.

  He bent and scooped up one of the printed e-mails with her name in the subject line. Rubbing the space between his brows, he read the information over again.

  “What the hell is the link between Maddie, George and Hollister?” His gut told him there was one, and it also told him Maddie had no idea of any such link.

  For the third time he scanned the information. Felicia and George’s parents—George Sr. and Virginia—had been killed in a car accident when George and Felicia were thirteen and eleven years old. Shirley, Virginia’s younger sister, was given custody of the children. Shirley never married and had no children of her own. She died sixteen years ago.

  After the cocktail party the other night, Alex thought for sure Maxwell Hollister was tied in to the Saunders family somehow, but nothing connected the two families that he could see.

  He shredded the papers into strips and dumped them into the waste can under the desk. He clicked on his e-mail messages, sending them to the printer icon and poured a cup of coffee.

  While enjoying the caffeine jolt, he pulled an e-mail out of the printer, a reply to a message he had sent to one of his sources. He rubbed the back of his head while he read the information. “Really?” Hollister had a shellfish allergy and a hemoglobin disorder called Thalassemia minor.

  Maddie also had both.

  “Coincidence?”

  He logged on to the Internet and googled Thalassemia minor.

  In Thalassemia minor the hemoglobin genes are inherited during conception, either from the mother or from the father. Thalassemia is common in the Mediterranean region and in portions of Africa, Asia, South Pacific and India.

  From his research on the Saunders family, he knew none of Maddie’s blood relatives had come from the Thalassemia regions.

  However, there was one blood relative who was not named in any of his Saunders research.

  Maddie’s biological father.

  He reached for his phone to call George, but changed his mind. No use asking George about any of this. Last time he talked to him, Alex had to move the phone away from his ear while George reamed him out and then ordered him to conduct a soft interview with Hollister. At this point, Alex was sure George was covering for somebody. Hollister? His sister Felicia?

  From all this information, Alex could only conclude one thing. He read the e-mail containing the information on Hollister again. Maxwell Hollister’s mother had been born in Italy.

  Alex’s journalism m.o. had always included being able to engage his emotions enough to get to the heart of the story, but never enough to be permanently touched by what he had seen or heard.

  Until now.

  He scrunched the paper into a ball and tossed it in the can. “Dammit.” The only logical explanation Alex could come up with was that Hollister was somehow related to Maddie. He connected the dots, and it wasn’t hard to figure out that the man may be her biological father, even though none of his research pointed to a connection between Felicia and Hollister.

  But where the hell had Hollister been all these years? Why wasn’t he listed as her father anywhere?

  If this were true, and he still wasn’t convinced it was, then why would the man not just come out with it and tell her?

  Until he could get a reasonable answer, he wasn’t going to share his theory with Maddie. At least not yet.

  His Blackberry pinged, telling him an e-mail had arrived from his trusted friend and colleague, Sam Funacelli. He had given Sam some of his groundwork research on Hollister and had asked him to follow up.

  He opened the e-mail.

  sfunacelli@nycworldnews.com wrote:

  Hey, Donovan, here’s a name for you—Liam Galvin. No idea if it will help, but the guy’s bio is an interesting read. I’ve attached his info and background. Also attached three pictures of the dude. Bit fuzzy but still viewable. This guy’s info isn’t on the Internet. Called in some favors to get this. Also attached some information about the Manhattan Private Chamber. You were right, damn hard to get a lot of info on that place, but this may help.

  Happy hour is on you when you get back, buddy.

  By the way, ran into Crystal Washington the other day. She bragged about having lunch with Hollister. I didn’t spill anything about you snaring the interview with him for a feature.

  Later, S.

  Alex sent Sam a quick reply, then printed out the information and pictures he’d sent.

  He knew damned well that Hollister had gone to Crystal to dig up dirt on him. Alex had to hand it to Hollister; he’d probably wined, dined and schmoozed Crystal into believing he’d appear on her trashy late night talk show to get the dirt he was after.

  Why would Hollister even care about him?

  Not that it would be hard to get Crystal to spill, even if they did have a legal contract binding them both not to talk about what had happened. If sleaziness was a gender and had a name, she would be called Crystal.

  A sharp pain traveled from his shoulders and landed on the back of his head. He rolled his shoulders and drained his coffee.

  There was only one reason Hollister would be so hell-bent on discrediting him and obsessed with Maddie’s whereabouts and activities on the island.

  If his suspicions weren’t on full alert before, they sure were now.

  His printer stopped and he gathered the sheets. “Hmmm. Interesting indeed.” He went through each page Sam had sent him and kept reading. “Holy shit.”

  He took a closer look at the pictures. They were not the best quality—small in size and obviously older—but he recognized this man. If this information was accurate, he was not only an IRA terrorist, but also a fugitive.

  “Pay dirt.” He’d only seen him a few times, but this fugitive, Liam Galvin, was now working as a valet for Maxwell Hollister, and went by the name Carl.

  He glanced at his watch and calculated what time it would be in Ireland. His uncle Patrick would probably be in his office at the Irish Times, where he was Senior Editor. He scrolled through the phone numbers listed in his Blackberry to find his uncle’s number and dialed. While waiting for the connection, he opened up a blank document on his laptop.

  Balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder, his fingers glided across the keyboard, typing a string of words that he related to all too well.

  “Secrets and lies will lead to the truth…”

  Chapter Eleven

  “Friendship is love minus sex plus reason.”

  —Mason Cooley

  “So,” Reece said to Maddie. “What you’re saying is that you and Alex a
re not on the same page?”

  “Page? You kidding me?” Maddie strolled through the hotel lobby, talking to her friend on her cell phone. “We’re not even in the same book.”

  “He’s not still pissed at you, is he?”

  “No, we’re good. We both agreed to forget about the cherry incident, the golf incident and the shower incident. Cripes, at this rate my piece could be called, ‘Maddie the Accidental Tourist.’ I stayed out of his way for four days.”

  Reece laughed. “Chickie, you should write a novel about this. You could seriously give Danielle Steele a run for her money.”

  “More like Stephen King.”

  Maddie spotted Alex outside by the dolphin statues. He stood with his hands across his chest in deep concentration and stared up at the talking parrot perched on the hotel’s marble railing.

  She said goodbye to her friend, shoved the incident memories aside and stood behind him—then realized it probably wasn’t a good idea to sneak up from behind him again, so she moved to his side. She cleared her throat and mustered her best parrot voice. “Hey, handsome. Have any chocolate?”

  His smile assured her that the few days apart had helped glue their friendship back together.

  “Will a sugar-free mint do?”

  She grimaced. “Where have you been hiding? What have you been up to?”

  “Catching up on research. I hear you and Tim did a great photo shoot of the island.”

  “I put him through my version of the Iron Man Competition.” She grinned at the memory. “We took a fifteen-mile bike ride and the next day we went on a five-mile hike up the side of the waterfalls and lava sea cliffs. He got to sit down when we went whale watching. Saw some wild dolphins. That was awesome.”

  “I would have loved to have seen that. See any sharks?”

  “Not that time, but we did see a few hammerheads when we went snorkeling. I casually mentioned how cool it would be to get a picture of them. One of the crew’s members on the boat volunteered to snap the pictures. Apparently, Tim does not lend his camera to anybody. Before he jumped into the water, he told me to tell you that it’s been a blast. Then he willed me his autographed Rangers jersey and jumped in the water. But the sharks swam away.”

  He chuckled. “I’ll live the shark experience vicariously through your article.”

  “I think my favorite part was the six a.m. wake-up call for the eight-mile hike to the volcano, but when we got there they had to close the park because the sulfur-dioxide level was four times its normal one. We were coughing like two pack-a-day smokers. Tim still insists his nose burns. We went back last night to see the lava pouring into the ocean. He got some great shots of that.”

  “Can’t wait to see them.” He smiled again, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “What are you up to this morning?”

  “I’m going to the marketplace to check out the shops.” She took in the shadow of his beard and the dark circles under his eyes. Even his obvious weariness didn’t detract from his good looks. “Are you obsessing over your interview with Mr. Hollister? You look tired.”

  “I’m good.” He rubbed the stubble on his strong chin. “I can join you. Give me fifteen minutes to shower and shave?”

  “And you’re game to browse through the market and boutiques?”

  “I’m game,” he said and added with a set to his jaw. “Hollister left me a message. Apparently he has a full schedule for the next few days. So it looks like I’m free.”

  There was a critical tone to his voice anytime he mentioned Mr. Hollister’s name. Maddie didn’t understand why Alex disliked Mr. Hollister. She herself had taken an immediate liking to the older man. He seemed interested in their work, was a gracious host and had invited her for lunch at the mansion the day after tomorrow.

  At the cocktail party, she’d noticed he enjoyed the sweet table. Any man who loved chocolate and desserts as much she did was A-okay in her books. She opened her mouth to defend Maxwell Hollister and tell Alex about her pending lunch invitation, but she sensed now wasn’t the right time to mention that particular detail.

  It was obvious Alex had thought Hollister might be creepily interested in her, but she knew that wasn’t the case. He’d gone out of his way to introduce her to a number of eligible bachelors at his cocktail party.

  Not that she was interested in any of those guys. The object of her interest stood in front of her, feigning enthusiasm about a shopping trip.

  Victor Grant slipped a sheet out of the file he held in his hand and glanced down at it. “I thought you promised George Saunders you’d keep this information confidential?” he said to Maxwell.

  Maxwell sat back in his leather chair, lifted his brows and stared at Victor without answering.

  “Forget I asked that.” Victor took out another sheet of paper from the file. Maxwell noticed the slight tremor in the PI’s hand. “Are you sure you want me to leak this story to the rags?” Victor cleared his throat and again Maxwell noticed the PI’s unsteady grip on the paper. “The Washington-Donovan story? You’re sure?”

  Maxwell nodded. “You heard me right the first time.”

  Victor let out a low whistle. “I don’t know if they’ll touch this. I…the research I did for you said that there’s a gag order on this one.”

  Maxwell leaned forward, steepling his hands on his desk. “What exactly is your problem with following my instructions?”

  “There’s no problem, sir. I was thinking that it might stop Donovan from getting the England promotion if this was made public.”

  Maxwell regarded the PI before answering. “Controversy will only make him more appealing, that’s how their industry works.” Maxwell grabbed a file off his desk and swung his chair around, turning his back to the PI. “That will be all.”

  He flipped through the file, a duplicate of what Victor had. He scanned the pages. “We’ll see how much of a god among journalists you’ll be considered now, Mr. Pulitzer Prize.”

  Maddie and Alex toured the local shops and art galleries. Maddie collected menus for her article from different restaurants and managed to fill two tapes interviewing tourists and the locals. They sat on the patio at Jo Jo’s Ocean Watch, a small outdoor cafe, underneath a gorgeous blue sky. A warm breeze floated in from the sea. The whole afternoon was like relaxing in a lavender bubble bath.

  They dined on fresh butterfish after Maddie assured Alex it was fine by showing him the list of fish names she carried with her at all times. Butterfish would not cause anaphylactic shock.

  “Let me see that list,” he had insisted and scanned it. “Good thing you’re not allergic to dessert, it’d be hard to satisfy you.”

  “The only dessert I’m allergic to is wedding cake.” She wasn’t exaggerating. Weddings did make her nauseous.

  She was impressed with Alex’s knowledge of the Hawaiian language and culture. While they enjoyed a local dessert of shaved ice with sweet syrup, he entertained her with stories of his childhood. He had spent his school breaks on Maui, where his parents owned a condo.

  His less-than-enthusiastic expression was evident when she pointed to a jewelry store. “Ah, I can tell that you’d rather poke your eyes with hot shoots than keep shopping, huh?”

  “Nah. I can handle it. Let’s try a few more shops.”

  “Nice try, Donovan. Most women would probably even believe you. But I know you were bored to tears browsing through the craft boutique. Although you did seem interested in the scented candles.”

  “For your information, men don’t tear. I’ll be forever in your debt if you don’t mention my name, craft boutique and candles in the same sentence.”

  She cast him a flirtatious wink. “C’mon, big guy. Then it’s time to pay your debts.” She laughed at his worried expression as he paid their bill.

  They left the restaurant and she led him toward Natalie’s Jewels by the Sea, a quaint jewelry s
hop. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it painless.”

  Inside the store Alex stood beside her and she pointed at something inside the glass showcase. Maddie spoke to the young saleswoman, whose name tag on her fuchsia sundress indicated her name was Natalie. “Can I see that necklace, please?”

  Natalie placed the necklace on the counter. “You are welcome to try it on.”

  Maddie picked up the necklace and glanced at the price tag. “That’s okay.”

  “The chain is platinum.” Natalie dangled the necklace, smiling at Alex. “The pendant is embossed with a replica of the silversword.” She ran her manicured nails across the beautifully crafted image of silver sword-like leaves. “It’s a one-of-a-kind piece, handcrafted by a local artisan, Eli Kawika. Eli calls this piece Leilani.”

  “Heavenly flower,” Alex commented.

  “You speak our native tongue?” Natalie flashed a brilliant row of white teeth at his nod.

  Alex picked up the necklace and handed it to Maddie. “Go ahead, try it on.”

  Maddie pulled her hair back and Alex clipped it in the back. She stared at her reflection in the mirror. It was a stunning piece, but she had spent her extra resources on clothes and lingerie, and now she had to save up to pay Bernie the PI for more work. Through the mirror, she observed Alex and Natalie speaking in Hawaiian.

  “That necklace looks like it was made for you,” Alex said.

  “It’s not made for my budget.” She had to come up with an excuse, because she wasn’t ready to tell him about having hired a PI. “I’m saving to buy that antique brass bed I was telling you about. And I don’t have anywhere to wear something like this.” She motioned for Alex to unclasp the necklace and smiled at Natalie. “Thank you.”

  Maddie put the necklace on the counter and touched Alex’s arm. “We can go now. My shopping’s done. Don’t see anything for Reece in here. I’ll go back and get her a wooden tiki mask for her collection.”

  She didn’t think Alex heard her as he stared at Natalie, an island beauty with waist-length hair the color of Kona coffee and high, exotic cheekbones in a delicate face. Her almond-shaped hazel eyes met Alex’s bedroom eyes. Natalie didn’t need any padded bras.