by Dara Girard
Rebecca rose to her feet and slowly walked to the cliff, the waters below calling to her, tempting her to ease her pain forever. Marie had been right. She’d ended up heartbroken. She hadn’t expected him to be like that. She’d thought he’d liked her, too. Why did her expression of love make him change? Did he think she was unworthy of loving him?
She’d thought he was different. She didn’t think he’d dismiss her as if he were lord of the manor, and she was one of the servants. He’d been sharp but kind to her before. But this time, she felt the biting cruelty of his words. All that she’d imagined him to be was wrong.
Girls like us don’t get men like Aaron Wethers, Marie had said. Rebecca wiped her tears with the back of her hand, then gripped her hands into fists as she stared at the blue waters below. For a moment, he’d made her feel like dying, but her life meant something, too.
That’s when she decided that one day, she’d have men like Aaron chasing after her.
* * *
Ten years later, Rebecca remembered the young woman she used to be with pity. She’d been naive to believe that Aaron Wethers had been The One. She looked out at the ocean from her villa. He was still charming and considerate as any owner would be, but she wouldn’t be fooled by that. Besides, any interest from him after he figured out who she was would be anticlimactic and show her how shallow he really was. He’d be like all the other men she’d met who were interested only in her fame, her money and her looks. Of course, turning him down would still be fun. She’d enjoy rejecting him. Maybe she could toy with him a little before she did, and remind him of his own cruelty to her ten years ago.
Rebecca smiled at the thought, then frowned. First she had to save her show. But why did his eyes still draw her to him? Why did his touch still make her tremble? Why did she still see the damaged hero that she’d imagined him to be ten years ago? She shook her head and turned from the ocean view. She couldn’t afford to be that fanciful or foolish. Her show was at risk.
This collection was important to her. She’d worked hard to get to this moment. She’d studied in New York and London, having her first show at twenty-three before partnering with her ex—a musician whose style she’d invented and created an immediate fashion trend that had exposed her. She expanded from men’s wear into women’s fashion, and her work was quickly snatched up by boutiques—growing her business faster than she could have expected. She’d come to St. James expecting to see Aaron again, this time as a global success—expecting to be the one in control.
But her heart made her doubt that she’d ever be in control where he was concerned.
Chapter 5
Harvey left his aunt’s house with a plastic smile and her voice ringing in his ears, after twenty minutes of begging him to find a bride, when he saw a familiar figure marching down the street in a place she didn’t belong. It was Rebecca Cromwell in a strange disguise. She was wearing a large hat and dark glasses.
It was a dangerous part of town, and tourists shouldn’t wander through it. But she looked as if she knew where she was going. He followed her and saw her disappear into a house ten minutes later.
Once she came out of the house, he approached her. “Miss Cromwell, you shouldn’t be here.”
She stopped and stared at him, startled. “You know who I am?”
“Of course I do,” he said, finding her question odd.
She blinked, suddenly afraid. “And you followed me?”
“I was worried about you.”
She glanced around in a furtive manner, then said, “Nobody can know I was here. You can’t mention it to anyone, please. Don’t even bring it up when you see me again.”
“I won’t, but—”
“Thank you.”
“But if you’re in trouble—”
“I’m not, I just had some business I needed to take care of.”
“Let me escort you back to the—”
“I really could use something to eat. Do you know of a place?”
“Not around here.”
“I don’t want to eat at the resort. I like to be around the regular people sometimes. Where’s your favorite place?”
“It’s nothing remarkable—just a little jerk chicken stand.”
“Sounds wonderful.”
Minutes later, they stood near Bawley’s Jerk Favorites. “What would you like?”
“Just order what you like.”
He’d never had to do that. He was a man who lived alone and rarely went out on dates. Harvey suddenly felt unsure. He had a desire to please her, but he liked his food spicy and didn’t know her tastes. He pulled out his handkerchief.
She laughed.
He turned to her, confused.
“You don’t have to be so nervous. It’s not like you’re ordering for the queen.”
“I like my food spicy.”
“Me, too.” She playfully nudged him with her elbow. “And I’m starving, so hurry up and order something before I faint.”
Harvey felt himself relax and stepped up to the food stand, where a man with a multicolored hat and conch shells necklace grilled. When he glanced up and saw Harvey, he grinned. “It’s been a while. Boss man keep you dancing?”
“Yes, it’s been busy. I’d like to order two of your jerk chicken.”
“I’m not sure I heard you properly. Did you say two?”
Harvey sighed, knowing what would come next. “Yes.”
He looked past Harvey at Rebecca. “She’s yours?”
“Of course she’s not mine. She’s a guest at the resort.”
“You never bring guests here. She must be someone special. Don’t worry, you know that my special spice can make any woman fall in love.”
Harvey couldn’t help but laugh. Edmund Brawley was a man known for his way with women.
“Fine, as long as you don’t charge me extra.”
“She doesn’t look to be from around here.”
“Have you got cotton in your ears? I said she’s a guest.”
“Oh, right. One of those fancy women from the resort just happened to find her way over here.”
“It can happen.”
“It hasn’t happened before. They’re too high to mingle with the locals. Is she British?”
“American.”
“Pity.”
“Pity?”
“Them women be hard. Before you know it, you’ll find yourself wearing a pinny and cooking her breakfast before she goes off to work.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a woman working,” Harvey said, knowing pinny was slang for pinafore.
“I didn’t say that. Did you hear me say that? I’m just saying that they can be hard, so you have to be even harder or they’ll take your balls and—”
“You done yet?”
“Almost.”
“We’re not all like that,” came a female voice from behind him.
Harvey spun around. “Food is almost ready.”
“It’s much more interesting standing here. I couldn’t help overhearing you two.”
“It’s better to just eat his food and ignore everything else he says.”
“What was her name?” Rebecca asked.
Edmund looked up at her. “Who?”
“The American who broke your heart.”
He started to grin. “Who says there was only one?”
Harvey said, “If you’re not done, we’re going somewhere else.”
“Okay, okay, dancing man. He’s always in a hurry because he works for the Wetherses. Hardly can get H.C. to stand still.”
Harvey paid for the food, then escorted Rebecca to a spot looking out at the water. “I hope you weren’t offended by what he said.”
“Not at all. What does H.C. stand for?”
/> “Just my initials. I prefer it to my given name.”
“Which is?”
“Better left unsaid.”
She laughed. “Point taken.” She bit into the succulent chicken leg. “Mmm...this is delicious. I’ll have to come back here before I leave.”
“Let me know when, and I’ll bring you. It’s not safe for you to be here alone.”
“How come a man like you hasn’t been snatched up yet?”
Harvey felt his face grow warm. He’d never had someone ask him that before, besides his aunt. People rarely saw past Wethers to see him. But because she wasn’t from the island, she didn’t know that.
“No time.”
“You should steal time, like this.”
She smiled, and he felt his heart melt. Her friendly, open nature wasn’t what he’d expected from a successful top designer used to being surrounded by beautiful people. He liked her, a lot. He knew she was out of his league, but that didn’t matter. Making her show a success had now become a personal mission.
* * *
Rebecca Cromwell. Aaron sat in his office and stared at his laptop, unable to focus. Why did her name seem to mean something to him? Not because she was a known designer—he didn’t follow that world enough to make her name important to him. There was something else. Something familiar about her. Something about her face that had shifted his sleeping heart. Her wild halo of black curls, which surrounded her delicate yet impish features, made him think of the playful energy of a wood nymph.
He’d been with Martha for two months now, and she’d never made him feel this way, this restless and eager for more. And he would bet Rebecca had been naked under her robe. He’d already imagined her in the buff more than he should have, and he wanted to see her again, even though he knew he shouldn’t. She was exactly the kind of woman he’d vowed to stay away from, but that hadn’t stopped him from calling the maître d’ so that he would be alerted the moment anyone used one of his “special” cards.
Rebecca Cromwell. She’d turned a moment that could have been a PR nightmare into a comical farce. Aaron couldn’t help smiling, remembering her fake greeting and clever idea to disguise Trident in the laundry cart to get him out of her villa without anyone knowing. He liked her spunk and cunning. And her looks—he couldn’t pretend that he hadn’t gotten a whiff of her intoxicating scent when she’d crashed into him. Although, as he’d held her, he could feel her trembling. She smiled and laughed as if she weren’t afraid. When she’d hugged him, he’d had to stop himself from holding her a second longer, just to calm her.
He wanted to get to know her better. He hadn’t felt that way about a woman in a long time. And she’d been kind to Brandon. He could imagine another guest scolding him, and they’d be right to. But instead, she’d left that job to him. He appreciated that. Being a single father was hard enough without others telling him what he was doing wrong. His cell phone buzzed, and when he looked at it he saw a message from H.C. that security was ready to talk.
Aaron met with his security staff and learned that their mood was still strong, despite the mishaps. No one else seemed as concerned as his sister. They answered all of Aaron’s questions with rational replies, but agreed they’d increase their efforts to make sure nothing else went wrong. But as much as they assured him and told him their strategy, something still needled him.
“Tell me the true story,” he said to Brandon while they ate dinner that night.
“What?”
“About Trident. I told that ridiculous story about the villa being aired out to Ms. Cromwell for appearances, but we both know that’s never happened before. What really happened?”
“I told you. I don’t know. I let him go free just a minute, and then he was gone.”
“Iguanas don’t just disappear. And someone would have seen him. He’s old and he’s big. He’s hard to miss.”
“I know, Dad, but I’m telling you the truth. Honest,” he said, an anxious note in his tone, his eyes pleading for understanding.
“I believe you,” Aaron said, and his son smiled. He was glad the tension between them was gone, but that didn’t ease his mind. Something was going on, and he had to find out what. For some reason, the iguana incident bothered him more than anything else.
“I’m glad she didn’t shout at me. I hate when people shout.”
“Hmm.”
Brandon pushed the food around on his plate.
“If you’re finished, you’re excused, but don’t play with your food.”
Brandon shoved a mouthful of black beans and rice in his mouth, then mumbled something.
Aaron sighed. “Do you want to spend time with Nan learning table manners?”
Brandon shook his head, his eyes wide.
“Then don’t talk with your mouth full, and take your time to eat. I’m not going anywhere.”
Brandon quickly swallowed, then said, “Did you get to ask her?”
“Ask who what?” Aaron asked, feigning ignorance. He knew exactly who his son was referring to.
“The iguana lady.”
“We have an iguana lady?”
“Come on, Dad, I’m serious.”
“So am I. I’m a busy man. I deal with a lot of people. What’s the iguana lady’s name?”
Brandon gave a heavy sigh. “Ms. Cromwell.”
“What about Ms. Cromwell?”
“Is she married?”
Aaron shrugged. “I don’t know.”
Brandon gaped at him, stunned. “You didn’t ask her?”
“I told you I wouldn’t.”
“I thought you might have changed your mind.”
“I didn’t.”
Brandon fell silent a moment, then his face brightened. “I don’t think she’s wearing a ring, so that means she’s not, right?”
“She probably has a boyfriend.”
His face fell. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
He bit his lip, then said, “Probably doesn’t mean for sure, right?”
Aaron nodded to his son’s plate, ready to change the subject. “Finish your dinner.”
“I like her, Dad.”
“You only just met her. You don’t know anything about her.”
“I know that she’s pretty and funny and—”
“She’s leaving the island in less than two weeks. Now finish your dinner.”
Brandon set his fork down. “I’m done,” he said, then took his plate and utensils over to the sink. “And I still like her,” he called out before he raced up the stairs.
Aaron hid a smile and softly said, “I like her, too.”
And that evening while he dreamed, Aaron did a lot more than just like her. He held her and kissed her and got to see what she had hidden under her robe. He saw her bare brown body tangled in his sheets and then tangled around him, his hands exploring the soft satin of her skin while he felt the weight of her legs wrapped around him. She whispered his name and cried out in pleasure. He woke up the next morning as hard as sugarcane with a smile on his face, until his phone alert reminded him he had plans to take Martha out for lunch. Martha. He was seeing Martha. That was the woman who should have been in his dream. She was the woman he’d considered marrying. He groaned. He needed a cold shower.
But the stinging cold drops of water on his skin did nothing to cool his thoughts. “She’s all wrong for you,” he mumbled to himself as he changed. He had to be sensible and reasonable. It was this kind of wayward thinking that had gotten him in trouble with Ina. “And she’s leaving soon. Focus on the show and nothing else.”
He repeated that mantra as he drove to the high school where Martha taught. He parked his car and decided to walk to the back of the school, where the teacher’s lounge was, instead of driving there. Through one of the open wi
ndows, he saw Martha talking to a colleague and was about to announce himself when he heard her say, “Don’t worry, Aaron Wethers will be putting a ring on my finger before the end of the year.”
Aaron moved out of sight and leaned in to listen.
Her companion laughed. “You sound sure about that.”
“Men like Aaron are so predictable about things like that. He wants a mother for his son, and I’m the perfect candidate. To be honest, his kid is the most interesting thing about him.”
“That’s mean,” the other woman replied.
Martha giggled. “You’re right, his money helps, too.”
“I’m sure he’s not that bad. Everyone likes him.”
“He’s a good guy, but let me just say, I know why his first wife left him. He looks like this handsome, romantic guy but he’s nothing like his ancestor.” She lowered her voice. “He’s a little scarier.”
“Scarier?”
“Yes, I don’t know what it is, but sometimes when he looks at me I just want to run.”
“And you still want to marry him?” her companion asked, surprised. “Are you afraid he’s going to hurt you?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that, at times, he’s so intense, so virile it can feel overwhelming, and I hate when he asks me to come by the main house at night. I swear I once heard the sound of a machete tapping against a post.”
“Then how will you stand living there?”
“I’ll find a way, and besides, it makes my mum happy. He’s still a great catch, and I’m ready to be a mother. I hope to have a little brother or sister for Brandon within a year of marrying him.”
Aaron came around the corner and sat down in an empty chair. “Shame that’s not going to happen.”
