by Rachel Woods
She might have been too provocative though. There was a fine line between desirability and desperation. She might have crossed it.
Returning to the kitchen, Spencer made a beeline for the refrigerator, opened it, and grabbed a bottle of complimentary Pinot Grigio. Spencer opened the wine and wondered if she should have engaged in a bit of double entendre instead. She could have planted a suggestion in his mind and made him think he wanted her.
It could be an effective trick, but you had to be careful. A double entendre required sexualizing a seemingly innocent word or phrase. Sometimes, you could end up sounding more corny than salaciously clever. Spencer sighed and took a glass from the overhead cabinet.
Things were always easier with older guys. They were half-demented and enjoyed the silly pseudo-sexual back and forth banter. Young guys didn’t get it, or if they did get it, they weren’t savvy enough to know how to respond.
Anyway. Whatever.
Maybe the revealing tank top had worked, after all. Cleavage and hard nipples, a winning combination. The one-two punch. Knocked ‘em out every time, Rae had told her. It would be nice not to have to rely on a double-D push-up bra, but Ben didn’t expect her to entice Sione Tuiali’i with her personality, intelligence, and charitable demeanor. Beauty and charm, those were the tricks of her trade.
She’d gone to college and received a degree in marketing. But, her education didn’t matter. What mattered was the way she looked. All Ben wanted her to be was what she was—gorgeous and sexy.
She swallowed the wine in a few gulps and then opened the banker’s box. Staring at the contents, she rolled her eyes. “What the hell?”
Two hours later, lounging on the couch, Spencer was still talking to her sisters, Rae and Shady, on a three-way connection. They’d been on the phone for the past hour and a half, which was how long it had taken Spencer to catch them up on everything from her arrival in Belize to the moment when she’d raised the lid off the banker’s box.
“Xanax,” Spencer said, reaching for the wine bottle she’d put on the coffee table.
“Xanax?” Rae asked.
“Like the pills for depression?” Shady asked.
“No, not depression. Anxiety,” she said and then explained how she had opened the box, not knowing what to expect, and had been shocked to find three boxes of Xanax. “But it wasn’t really Xanax in those boxes.”
“So, what was really in the boxes of Xanax?” Shady asked.
Spencer told them, her chest tightening as she recounted how she’d opened one of the boxes of anti-anxiety pills and discovered what was really inside.
“Girl, are you serious?” Rae asked. “He used boxes of Xanax to hide—”
“Yes, that’s exactly what he did,” Spencer said, taking a sip of wine from the bottle. “I couldn’t believe it. But I guess I should have.”
“You think he wants you to deliver it?” Shady asked.
“Of course, he wants her to deliver it,” Rae said. “Shady, don’t ask stupid questions.”
“Why was that a stupid question?” Shady asked.
“She told you what was really in the box,” Rae said. “What else would she have to do but deliver it?”
“Y’all forget about Ben for a second,” Spencer said, intervening so they wouldn’t get into a screaming match and hang up before she could discuss what she needed to talk to them about. “What about the resort owner?”
“Do you mean Mr. Got-You-All-Hot-and-Bothered?” Rae asked.
“Mr. Hypnotic-Hazel-Eyes?” Shady joined in.
Spencer took another swig of wine. She wished she’d never told them how good-looking the resort owner was, but they had asked and she’d been honest. When they got bored with the childish teasing, Spencer said, “Y’all think Sione Tuiali’i lied to me? You think he really did open the box?”
“If he did open the box, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Shady said. “Because all he saw was prescription medication.”
“And all he would think is that you’re a neurotic psycho bitch,” Rae said.
Sighing, Spencer said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
After hanging up with Rae and Shady, Spencer went into the bedroom, took the burner phone from her Birkin, and called Ben. When he answered, she bristled. The island lilt, once so enticing, now irritated the hell out of her.
“I got the box,” she said. “Now what?”
Ben gave her the instructions, made her repeat them back to him—twice—and then he said, “You understand what I need you to do?”
“Yes, I understand,” she said, pacing across the bedroom. “I’m not stupid.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them, because they weren’t true. She was stupid. Stupid for talking to Ben when he’d sat next to her on the bench in front of the reflecting pool. Stupid for wasting two months of her life with him. Stupid for thinking she was falling in love with him. Stupid for being so afraid to fall in love with him that she’d panicked and made the worst mistake of her life.
Her stupid feelings were to blame for her stupid decision to “date” Ben. And now she felt even more stupid because maybe she hadn’t been falling in love. Maybe she’d just been infatuated because he took her to nice places and pretended to care about her and made her think he was falling for her, too.
“We need to talk about this damn side venture,” she said, pushing the troubling thoughts away. “I thought you said I wouldn’t have to do anything criminal?”
“I said the favor wouldn’t involve anything criminal,” Ben said. “The package I sent you isn’t the favor. Remember, sweet girl, I said it was a side venture.”
“A side venture that could get me in a lot of trouble,” she said, her voice shaking despite her efforts to keep her tone even and not betray the anger and fear churning within her. “But maybe that’s what you planned. Maybe there really is no favor. Maybe you forced me to come to Belize to do this side venture so you can have me arrested.”
“Sweet girl, I really wish you didn’t have to do this favor for me,” Ben said. “I never wanted you to be in the position where you would have to owe me.”
“Ben, I don’t have to be in this position,” she said, ashamed at the desperation creeping into her tone. “You can forgive me. I am sorry for what I did. It was a stupid mistake and if I could go back—”
“If you could go back, what would you do differently?” he asked, the edge in his voice scaring her. “You wouldn’t leave me bleeding on the floor? You wouldn’t stab me?”
“I stabbed you because I thought you were trying to kill me!”
“Why would I try to kill you?” Ben asked. “How could you think I would ever hurt you? Did I ever put my hands on you? Did I ever raise my fist at you?”
“I was scared and confused that night,” she said, guilt and shame making her defensive. “And I had …”
“You had stolen my money,” he said. “And my Rolex watches.”
“I thought you had seen me taking the money,” she said, sitting on the settee at the foot of the bed. “I thought you were coming after me.”
“I was after the man who had broken into my home.”
“The guy with the snake tattoo on his face,” she said.
“He came into my home to take something away from me,” Ben said. “Something very valuable. I couldn’t let him do that.”
“What was he trying to take from you?”
Silence. Again, the familiar abrupt absence of sound made her uneasy, apprehensive.
“Ben …?” Spencer cursed and then asked, “Are you still on the—”
“So, I need you to do Part One of the side venture this coming Saturday,” Ben said. “And don’t worry about getting into trouble, sweet girl. If you follow my instructions, there shouldn’t be any problems.”
chapter 19
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort – Owner’s Casita
“Ms. Edwards.” Sione Tuiali’i stared down
at her. “How are you?”
Spencer was speechless. The last time she’d seen the resort owner had been days ago, when she’d stormed into his office to get the package Ben had shipped to her.
Mr. Tuiali’i looked even more delicious than she remembered, wearing nothing but a strange sarong with geometric patterns. Her mouth watered as she stared at his muscles, mesmerized. His broad shoulders, pecs, and arms were huge and exquisitely formed beneath the creamy, brown sugar skin, which was decorated with a plethora of what looked to her like tribal markings.
The tattoos formed strange swirls and whorls across his pecs and eight-pack abs, then moved up to his neck and left shoulder, before traveling in loops and twirls down his left arm, past his elbow to his wrist.
“Ms. Edwards?”
Snap the hell out of it, Spencer. There was no reason to lose her cool. He’d been gorgeous when she first met him, and he was still gorgeous. There was no reason to get so worked up over the way he looked. She didn’t have time to drool. She needed to lay more groundwork for getting Step Two completed.
The “side venture” was days away, and as pissed as Spencer was about having to do it, she realized there was a silver lining in the situation. The banker’s box gave her the perfect excuse to see the resort owner. Spencer figured there was no need to let the next few days go to waste, and she’d come up with a plan to start getting close to him. But not too close.
“Mr. Tuiali’i,” Spencer started and then stopped, trying to get her thoughts together.
“Sione.”
“Huh?”
“You can call me Sione.” He leaned against the doorframe of his house.
“Sione.” Spencer cleared her throat and then looked to the left, where a riot of purple and pink hibiscus bushes hung over the wooden railing around the porch. “That’s an interesting name. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before I met you.”
“It’s Tongan,” he said. “Means John.”
“Sione is how you say John in Tongan,” she said. “So, you’re Tongan.”
“Half,” he said. “My father is from Tonga, my mom is from Belize.”
Spencer nodded, not sure what to say, trying to remember why she was there.
“What can I help you with?”
Involuntarily, her gaze dropped to his waist and even lower.
“Ms. Edwards?” he prompted.
She lifted her head. There was a trace of a smile on his lips, with just enough mischief to let her know he’d seen the direction of her gaze.
“I don’t mean to bother you. The front desk attendant told me you were working at your casita today, and I just needed to ask you …” Spencer stopped and exhaled, trying to remember the lie she’d come up with, the excuse to see him.
She’d spent all last night coming up with the ruse, going over it again and again, testing it for faults and flaws. She should know her lines by now. There could be no stuttering and stammering. She couldn’t arouse his suspicions before she even got started with the scheme.
Clearing her throat, Spencer continued, “It’s about that banker’s box I received.”
With a sigh, Sione said, “Why don’t you come in?”
Spencer didn’t know whether to be relieved or ashamed. She didn’t like the idea of tricking her way into the resort owner’s casita, but the goal had been to get invited inside. An invitation into his casita could not be interpreted as a sign of his willingness to let her get close to him. She couldn’t take anything for granted. His hospitality didn’t mean he was interested.
Parading in front of a man wearing a clingy dress with her boobs spilling out all over the place might entice him. Rae had taught her lots of clichéd seductive techniques, provocative contrivances that usually worked. On old geezers, at least.
Spencer had never tried those tricks on someone like Sione, who was so good-looking that he left her feeling flustered and uneasy. Geriatric fools responded to batting eyelashes, but the resort owner might see right through her deception. He might even get suspicious and think she was up to something.
Sione led her into the kitchen, then walked to a large marble-top island, and leaned against the rounded edge.
“Now, Ms. Edwards, what did you want to tell me about the package you got?”
“Oh, um …” she started, reluctant to get on with the business of lying to him, wishing she didn’t have to.
Staring down at her, he folded his arms across his chest, a move that made his muscles contract. Spencer gazed at him, wondering why he was so damn distracting. She’d seen handsome, well-built men before, and they’d never had this effect on her, leaving her dumbfounded.
She didn’t have time to get lost in his hazel eyes. She had to get on with laying more groundwork for Step Two, and yet she was hesitant to start her scam. There was no way to know if her plan to get close to him would work, but she had to try.
Spencer exhaled, taking a few steps toward the island, going over her plan, which would accomplish two objectives. It was simple, really. She would tell the resort owner the wrong box had been delivered to her. With a tone of frustration and anger, she would give him a story about opening the box and being shocked to find boxes of Xanax.
Xanax? Xanax!
She would shift the blame to him, declaring the delivery of the wrong box to be another example of his staff’s deplorable inability to provide even the most basic customer service. She would hold him responsible and threaten to sue the resort.
Of course, the resort owner would want to make amends. He would probably ask what he could do to come to some kind of rapprochement. And Spencer would tell him she would be willing to come up with an amicable solution to the problem.
Over dinner, perhaps?
No, maybe dinner would be pushing her luck. Drinks? Maybe coffee, or—
“Ms. Edwards?”
Spencer took a quick, deep breath, trying to stay focused on her scam, and said, “The wrong box was delivered to me.”
Eyes narrowed, he stared at her and then said, “It was?”
Nodding, she said, “I was expecting training manuals. That box was full of … Xanax.”
chapter 20
San Ignacio, Belize
Belizean Banyan Resort – Owner’s Casita
Sione hesitated, staring down at Ms. Edwards and then said, “I know.”
“You knew the wrong box had been delivered to me?” She glared at him. “How the hell would you know that? You said you hadn’t looked in the box, but that wasn’t true. You lied to me, didn’t you?”
Confused and suspicious, Sione tried to process what she was saying, not sure what to think. He’d thought she’d been expecting the shipment. But now she was giving him some story about training manuals?
What the hell was she up to, he wondered.
The past few days, Sione had thought a lot about what he’d found inside that banker’s box and he hadn’t come up with any solid conclusions. He suspected Ms. Edwards might be up to something criminal—or maybe not.
“Are you going to answer me anytime soon?” Ms. Edwards demanded, arms crossed in a way that enhanced her already over-exaggerated cleavage, which he appreciated, though it might have been a bit much so early in the day. “Why didn’t you tell me the wrong box had been delivered? Did you think I wouldn’t know the difference between training manuals and Xanax?”
“I didn’t know the wrong box had been delivered to you.” Sione shook his head and then said, “When I said, ‘I know,’ I meant that I knew there was Xanax in the box because I looked in it. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry.”
“Why did you lie and say you hadn’t looked inside the box?” Ms. Edwards asked.
Sione stared at her, trying to get his thoughts together, which was proving to be more difficult than it should have been. Ms. Edwards was very distracting, especially wearing a tan-colored dress made of material that hugged her curves in all sorts of suggestive and enticing ways.
Sione cleared his throat and said
, “I thought you might feel awkward or embarrassed if you knew that I knew you were taking anti-anxiety medication.”
She frowned, but the furrow between her brows didn’t distract from her good looks. “You know, Mr. Tuiali’i, I just might have to pop one of those pills because I am feeling very anxious right now, and do you know why? Because my damn manuals are missing!”
“I’ll have my secretary track down the delivery driver,” he said, though he was still suspicious of her, still not sure she really had been expecting to find training manuals in that bankers box.
“And what if she doesn’t find the delivery guy?”
“Marie has lots of contacts,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll figure out what happened to your box.”
“Somebody better find my damn box,” she warned. “Those manuals contain classified information, and if they end up in the wrong hands, I am going to sue this resort for—”
Three chirps, loud and insistent, interrupted her.
She gave him a gaze that was furious, sultry, and a bit too arousing, considering the current situation. Sione grabbed the phone and stared at the screen. His heart pounded and he struggled to suppress the anger welling within him as he stared at the number. Guatemalan country code. His ex-fiancée.
He wasn’t surprised she was calling again even though he’d warned her not to. The last time he’d hung up on her, she’d threatened to call him and worry the hell out of him until he agreed to persuade his father not to kill her. She was still trying to make him believe Richard wanted her dead.
Sione knew better than to believe her. And yet, part of him wondered, what if she was telling him the truth. What if Richard had really threatened to kill her?
Three more chirps cut into his thoughts.
They sounded louder, somehow, as relentless and insistent as his ex-fiancée.
“Are you going to answer it?” Ms. Edwards asked.
“It’s not someone I’m interested in talking to right now.”
