Not loud enough for Xan to hear, evidently. "What?"
He considered just shaking his head and not telling her. But what did it matter, anyway? "I never asked them," he repeated, much louder. "They all propositioned me."
"You've never asked a girl to sleep with you?" Xan's eyebrows shot up so high, they vanished into her hair.
"That's right." Jason needed another beer. No, he needed a whole bottle of bourbon, but he hadn't grabbed any. Yet another stupid thing to add to the endless list of things he had and hadn't done.
"Afraid you'd be rejected?"
"Maybe." More like yes, but Xan would only laugh at him if he admitted it. "The few times I asked girls out, they refused."
"Before you were a rock star," Xan said slowly.
"Well, yeah. Afterwards, I was so busy I couldn't really ask anyone."
"Or you'd disappoint your fans." The way Xan stared at him, it looked like she pitied him. She shook her head. "It's usually women who have to do that kind of thing for fame. I never thought...I'm sorry, Jay. Jason. No wonder you like to hide out here, instead of going back to that life. I couldn't do it."
Jason summoned a grin. "It wasn't all bad. I mean, it was hard work, making sure every night I was giving a girl the best night of her life. It's every guy's dream, really. And on concert nights, when I was so high on the adrenaline after the performance...it was more than one girl those nights. Fuck, I'd go back to that life just for the concerts."
"And the orgies afterwards." Xan slid off her bar stool and headed for the kitchen. "Another drink?"
Jason nodded. He found himself facing a glass of water.
"Drink that first, and I'll get us a couple more beers." She drained her own water and opened the fridge.
Jason obediently did as he was told, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "I'd be all right without the orgies, I think. I mean, it was great at first, but you get tired of doing the same thing every night. And it's not like I need sex every night."
Xan cracked open two beers, passing one to him. "That's not what I heard when I arrived. There was the receptionist, the tour guide, most of the maids...to hear HR tell it, you cut a swathe through the female staff from the moment you arrived."
"It was only two maids," Jason said. "And the rest were because of the tour guide. She took me out on the boat for a private tour of the lagoon. We went out on the lagoon, all right, but we spent most of the day exploring positions that worked in a boat without capsizing us. She must've told the story to everyone in the staff room that night, because the following day, there was another girl in uniform on my doorstep, and it wasn't just my room she wanted to service."
Xan pulled a face. "Gods, Jason, can you ease up on the details? The mental images are going to haunt me for weeks."
"Well, you already know what I look like naked in the lagoon," he began helpfully, "so just add in a naked woman and a boat and –"
"Jason!" She smacked his arm, making him spill his beer.
"Good thing tattoos don't come off that easy," Jason said, swiping at beer-drenched arm with the tea towel.
"What is your tattoo, anyway? I've always wondered," Xan said.
Jason extended his arm, angled so she could read it.
"All the world's a stage," she read aloud. "Shakespeare. Huh. Not what I expected at all. Were you drunk when you got this?"
Jason almost spat out his beer. "Fuck, yes. I had to be, or I'd've passed out from the pain. I couldn't look at it, either, but I was so shitfaced that everything was too blurry to see. I had a bottle of bourbon in my other hand to keep things that way, too."
Xan drank deeply, then set her bottle down. "So you don't remember why you chose to have these words permanently carved into your skin."
"Yeah, I do. I picked the quote sober, then blew through the bourbon so I could get it done. It's the only tattoo I've got, too. Couldn't face another one. Didn't need another one, anyway. This was enough to remind me...remind me that my world was a stage. I entered and exited where I was told, playing the part they gave me. I knew it would end one day, but just like life, you always want the good parts to go on forever."
"Do you know what play it's from?" Xan asked, tracing the letters with her finger.
It was the first time she'd ever willingly touched him, and Jason was surprised to admit to himself that it felt good. Not that he intended to admit that to Xan – it'd probably qualify as sexual harassment, or at the least, piss her off again. He didn't want to piss her off. He liked her company. She was...honest. Not afraid of him or his reputation, or awed by it, either. And she listened, which was more than most people did. Maybe too well, given all the comments she'd made tonight, but she understood discretion, too. It was pretty much an essential part of being the manager of Romance Island Resort.
"As You Like It," he responded. "I did my first year in Fine Arts at university before I bombed out. I'm not entirely stupid."
"I never said you were," Xan protested.
"But you thought it. Everyone does," Jay said.
Xan sighed. "So if rock stars aren't stupid and hotel managers aren't boring workaholics, where does that leave us?"
Jason had the answer to that. "In a cyclone shelter in the eye of the storm, on a private island we both call home."
Xan smiled, right at him. "Yeah. Well said, rock star."
This time, it almost sounded like a compliment.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Xan wasn't sure if she was just getting used to the noise, or if the cyclone was finally dying down. Either way, it was time to make an executive decision before Jason talked her into another beer. "I'm having a shower," she announced, sliding down her bar stool. She made it to the floor without incident – she was slightly tipsy, not drunk. The ginger beer had some alcohol, but not enough to make her stupid. Besides, she'd only had two. Maybe three, if you counted the one with lunch, but that was hours ago. Probably out of her system by now. And speaking of getting things out of her system...there were other facilities she needed to visit in the bathroom, too. Rather urgently.
She snatched up her bag and headed for the bathroom block. Here, she could hear the wind whistling around the building, rattling the roof sheeting. No, the storm wasn't spent yet.
Fortunately, the showers spouted hot water, which Xan was happy to use to her advantage. Who knew how long they'd have power – or hot water? Normally, hot water wasn't a worry, as the sun took care to turn any cold water into lukewarm at the very least, but sunrise was a long way off – if the sun could break through the thick cloud cover at all tomorrow. She took her time for once, not limited by the three-minute quota allotted to the staff showers. If her staff had to take short showers, so did she, but tonight there was just Jason, who didn't live by the same rules and restrictions in Villa Penguin, the smallest of the Pearl Villas. He'd never know she'd snatched an unaccustomed luxury.
Except...she'd forgotten to bring a towel. Luckily, some kind person from Housekeeping had left a stack next to the washbasins, probably assuming that most hotel guests wouldn't have brought one, either. Wrapping a towel around herself, Xan swore she'd thank Annette and her team for their foresight when she saw them next. Yes, when. She'd survived the worst of the storm. Now it was only a matter of time before Emergency Services announced the all clear over the radio, and she could go outside to assess the damage to the resort.
Was it just her imagination, or had the wind picked up again? Maybe it just sounded louder because she didn't have the shower on any more.
Xan pulled on her shortie pyjamas and headed back to the games room, combing her wet hair.
When she caught sight of Jason, she dropped the comb in surprise. "What on earth are you doing?"
"Making my bed," he replied cheerfully, laying a hand on the side of the fully inflated boat. For some reason known only to crazy, drunk rock stars, he'd stuck it on top of the covered pool table. And, true to his word, he had made a bed – he'd taken the mattress off his folding bed and placed i
t in the bottom of the boat.
"In...a....boat," Xan said.
"Well, yeah. There's space for you, too – that's why I grabbed the big RHIB."
"The big...what?"
"RHIB. R-H-I-B. Stands for...rigid hull inflatable boat, one of the maintenance guys told me, last time they took it shark fishing in the lagoon. Baz said to make sure we had one at the shelter, just in case." Once again, Jason looked terribly proud of himself.
Baz had told him to sleep in a boat? When? And why? Xan said, "You're not making any sense. The storm's dying down. We should just try and get some sleep. In bed, not a boat."
Jason shook his head. "The storm's not over. Baz said this would happen – it's the calm, the eye in the middle of the storm. When it gets quiet for a bit, but the other half of the cyclone's still to come. And the worst of it. Most places, the biggest danger is the wind, strong enough to blow a man away, or rip off the roof. This cyclone shelter's strong enough to protect us from the wind, so that's all right, but Baz said the real danger is the storm surge. When the wind and the swell and the low pressure system all combine to make bigger waves than usual. Waves that could wash over the whole island, taking the buildings with it. Just like that little cyclone last season did to the sea wall over on Lorikeet Island. The real danger's not the wind, but the water. High tide's still a couple of hours away. I figure if we're going to wake up in the lagoon, better to be floating in it than drowned." He gestured toward the boat.
"The island could flood?" Why hadn't Xan thought of it? She'd seen the sea wall collapse at Lorikeet Island. Sure, this cyclone shelter had held up well in the storm so far, but how well would it protect them if it was underwater?
"That's what Baz said. Bad combination, really, like Cyclone Rose deliberately picked a full moon to come visit us."
Xan itched to go outside, to see if Jason was telling the truth, but the wind's wordless howling told her it would be suicide. She didn't need to check the tide times to know he was right about those – island life revolved around them, so it was second nature to check the tides along with the weather forecast.
"I'm not letting some bitch of a storm end me. And not by drowning. That's the worst insult ever, for someone with a name like mine." Xan jerked her chin at his mattress. "Shift that over to make some space for me. And you better stay on your side of the boat."
"Yes, ma'am." Jason grinned, grabbed her mattress and lifted it into the empty side of the boat. "You okay with the port side?"
"Fine," she said, wondering how she was supposed to climb into bed now. The sides of the boat were chest height, sitting on top of the table. No harder than hauling herself out of the water after a dive, though, really, she thought. She took a deep breath and launched herself into the boat, rolling over the side to land on her mattress. Sleeping in the boat was softer than the folding bed, she decided, making herself comfortable.
"I'll get the lights. I might leave the bathroom ones on, though, yeah? So we can see where to go if we need to get up in the middle of the night," Jason said.
Xan nodded, closing her eyes. Would she even hear the waves licking at the shelter, with the wind shrieking so loudly? One thing was certain: she wouldn't get much sleep tonight, what with new things to worry about and all. She never wanted to be caught in a cyclone again.
The boat rocked as Jason climbed in. Xan heard the rustle of sheets in the dark as he settled into bed before he said, "Xan? Why is it an insult?"
"What is?"
"You said drowning is an insult to your name. What is your name?"
It was pitch dark, but Xan felt his eyes on her anyway. What did it matter if he knew? He could wheedle the information out of Human Resources, if he really wanted to. "Xanthe."
"Kssss...what?"
She sighed. This is why she shortened it. "Ksss-zanthee," she said, drawing out the sibilance. "It's the name of a deep sea nymph in Greek mythology. Dad said I was born to dive."
"Xanthe," Jason repeated. "I like it. I've never met anyone called that before. Why don't you tell people your real name? Zzzan just sounds so flat in comparison. Like a droning blowfly."
Xan smiled into the darkness. "And have to explain how to pronounce or spell it every time I introduced myself? No, thanks. It's easier this way."
"But not as pretty. It even sounds like waves crashing on the shore. Xanthe."
Xan didn't want to think about what waves did right now. Not waves or tidal surges or anything to do with the ocean. "Enough using my name in vain. I want some sleep," she said.
"Sure thing, Xanthe," Jason said. He paused, then added, "And...thanks for staying here with me, when there wasn't space for both of us in the helicopter. I think I would've freaked out a lot more without you here. You're a life saver. Really."
Xan didn't reply, but she did allow herself a small smile. Maybe Jason wasn't so bad, after all. At least he could pronounce her name, which was more than Jerome had ever managed.
She had to do something about Jerome. Get rid of him, one way or another. Maybe one day she'd forgive his misguided attempt to help a girl out, but that wouldn't change the fact that he was a lying, cheating paedophile and she'd be happier to marry Jay Felix than him.
Xan smothered a laugh at the thought of what Jason would say to that. He'd probably propose, like he did to all the other girls she'd seen him with at the resort. He wanted a wife for Angel's wedding, but he also wanted to be a rock star again. What if...
"Jason, all the women you've been trying to persuade to be your wife, so they'd attend this wedding with you. What did you intend to do after the wedding's over?" she blurted out.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you're only marrying them for the wedding, right? So if you're going back to the rock star life again, you'd want a divorce, so you could go back to romancing the fangirls every night, right?"
A sigh. "I don't know. I never really thought about it. I mean, that's what I'm famous for. That's the image they want when people buy my albums. But if I had a wife...would anyone buy my music?"
Xan tried not to laugh. "I didn't buy it because I wanted to sleep with you. If there wasn't a cyclone outside and a king tide threatening to drown the island, I certainly wouldn't be sharing a boat with you, let alone a bed."
"Yeah, but...you're just one person. There are millions of girls out there who...want me. Or they used to."
This time Xan did laugh. "Even I don't believe you've slept with millions of girls. And what about those guys at the Mangrove Hotel? They were absolutely in awe of you. You didn't sleep with any of them. I remember, because you shared a room with me."
"Well, yeah, but..."
If she could see his face, she probably wouldn't say it, but in the dark it was so easy to not hold back for once. "I think you're scared to stand for something you want. Afraid you might fail. You never chased after any of those girls when they left you because you were scared they'd turn you down. Same with all this talk of being a rock star. You were a rock star, and you could be again...but you might have to go for a solo career instead of with the same band. You can't play it safe if your dream is bigger than normal, Jason. It's what I did, coming out here. I wanted to wait until I was married and do the trip as our honeymoon, but then Jerome started talking about settling down straight after uni, so I knew the only way I'd get to travel was if I went on my own. And this job, too...my visa was about to expire, but I wanted to stay in Australia, so I applied for the job at the resort. For the job as a tour guide, the one I eventually hired Rita for, not Meier's job. He tricked me into signing the contract for his job. He said it was the same as the original with some mistakes corrected, so I didn't read it properly. When I found out he'd made me the hotel manager, I freaked out a bit...but I also figured it was too late to back out. You all looked to me to manage the place, so...I just got over being scared about how much I might suck at the job, and I did it."
Jason swore. "Seriously? I had no idea. You just seem so perfect for the job. I never thought..
.and you, scared? The first time I saw you, you managed to scare the shit out of my hangover, you were that menacing. I don't think anyone except Angel and maybe Trevor could do that. You're perfect, Xan."
And Jason had to be drunk, saying stuff like that. "Good night, Jason."
"G'night, Xanthe."
Even drunk, he'd managed to say the right thing. For once.
TWENTY-NINE
Xan roused from her dream, feeling unusually hot. Had she somehow turned the air conditioning off? And that crackling sound, overlaid with static, like a bad home video recorded on a really windy day. Wind. Storm. Cyclone Rose.
She blinked the sleep from her eyes, trying not to laugh as she realised why she'd overheated. Somehow, Jason had cuddled up to her as she slept and thrown an arm over her, and the man was just as hot in bed as his reputation said he was. Ha, with his clothes on, thankfully.
How long had they slept like that? Xan had never shared a bed with anyone. Not even Jerome. Oh, sure, they'd fooled around – she'd left her virginity behind a long time ago – but sleeping in the same bed was one of those intimate things she'd never done. To trust someone to sleep beside you while you were unconscious was just...asking a lot, Xan felt. Yet somehow she'd managed a peaceful night's sleep in her boss's arms, of all people.
Oh gods. Technically, she'd just slept with her boss. Xan clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter before she woke him up. Carefully, she edged away from him, hoping to get out of the boat before he realised what had happened.
The radio gave a decisive crackle. "Emergency broadcast, all channels," a man's voice said. "Cyclone Rose has been downgraded to a Category Two. King Sound south to Derby, you are all clear. Repeat, all clear. The cyclone has passed, and is moving inland. Cyclone warning for the Buccaneer Archipelago, Dampier Peninsula and King Sound has been cancelled."
"Well, woohoo," Jason said softly. "Did you hear that? We survived the cyclone."
Xan clambered out of the boat, trying to hide her reddened face. It's not like they'd had sex, but...
The Rock Star's Wedding Page 10
