“We’re okay,” he said.
Behind them, someone slammed on their brakes, honked and veered around them.
“I know.” She abruptly pulled her hands away and was herself once more, regaining her senses, almost as if she’d woken up from a daydream, or day nightmare. She flipped on her hazard lights and stood. “I’ve got a spare tire in the back. Hopefully, a jack that works.”
The record time she’d taken to recover from the near accident impressed him. This was a woman who didn’t crack under pressure.
Of course, women who try to kill their husbands usually don’t.
Tack glanced out the window and the other cars speeding around them. They wouldn’t be safe for long here, and they needed to get the minibus moving before someone slammed into them on this narrow road. Cate was already at the back panel, wrenching up the trapdoor and lugging out a near bald Michelin.
“Whoa, there,” Tack began. “I can help...”
“What? This old thing?” She grinned at him, a gorgeous, effortlessly flirty smile, and he felt his crotch grow tight. “I’ve got it.”
And it looked like she was going to take that tire and the partly rusted jack with the paint flecking off and fix this thing before Tack could even get a word in about it. When she leaned in to get the tire iron, Tack easily slipped it from her hands. No need to arm the woman. From what he’d heard, she was dangerous enough all on her own.
“Please, ma’am. I insist.”
* * *
CATE EYED THE muscled marine kneeling by the front tire of her ancient minibus and felt a ripple of unease. He attacked the rusted lug nuts, and she tried not to be distracted by the fact that the muscles in his forearms rippled when he loosened the nuts with hardly any effort. He glanced up and met her gaze, showing even white teeth, his brown eyes warm.
Bet he gets any girl he wants, she thought, feeling her own abdomen grow warm as she watched him wrench the old tire free, his biceps engaging as he lifted it up. Sexy ex-marine probably never gets told no. She felt a pull suddenly, a flush of desire run through her. How long had it been since she’d even had sex?
Normally, she was able to push those feelings aside, but watching the marine work made her mind go to places she thought she’d long since forgotten.
Relationships were too risky. One-night stands are fine. Anything more and you’re just asking for trouble, Cate.
But Cate wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl. Of course, after Rick Allen, she wasn’t sure forever love even existed. And, now, I can’t try for it, either. It’s too much of a risk.
She knew she’d be giving up things when she took her boy and ran. She’d gladly sacrifice forever love if it meant her boy would be safe. If it meant Rick Allen could never hurt him—or her—again. Being alone was better than being hurt. Better than being...controlled, imprisoned in her own house.
You’re mine, he’d said the night she left. You belong to me. You’ll never get away.
That had been more than three years ago. I did get away, Rick. I did. And I’m never going back.
She focused on Tack’s lean back, the muscles of his broad shoulders taut against the thin fabric of his shirt as he slipped the spare tire on the minibus. The loud whoosh of cars passing at speeds faster than they should whirred in her ears, yet she paid them no heed. Her whole focus was on Tack.
Something about this man made her feel distinctly off balance, and it wasn’t the fact that he had the body of a Greek god, either. He was tan, far too tan to be a mainlander who’d only just come to St. Anthony’s for a little getaway. As he turned his attention back to the tire, she saw the strip of red on his neck—a fresh sunburn. That’s not the kind of tan anybody gets in Seattle in February, she reasoned.
Could he be working for Rick?
As soon as the panic rose in in her throat, she swallowed it. Don’t be paranoid. Guilty people do that. Guilty people get jumpy, and jumpy people get caught. And you’re just being paranoid.
Of course he’s not working for Rick. Rick doesn’t know where you are. You’re fine.
For a bright second, she was back in her husband’s house, standing at the top of the stairs, clutching her baby boy. She’d never forget the sight of Rick’s body, lying motionless at the bottom of the marble landing, the fear and horror in her throat suffocating her. He’d been so terribly still, lying in that unnatural way, his leg bent at the wrong angle.
She felt her heart speed up, the blood thrumming through her veins, the panic of that night fresh in her mind. She had to will herself to calm down. She wasn’t there. She’d never be there again. Not if I can help it.
He glanced up at her, squinting against the sun, and flashed another smile. She forced herself to relax.
“So you live in Seattle. I love that city,” she said, trying not to sound like she was probing his backstory, which she was. “I went there once, after college. My roommate’s house overlooked the Sound. Was gorgeous. Where do you live?”
“A neighborhood called Wallingford,” he said, without so much as a hitch. “I’ve got a condo that looks out over Woodland Park. Ever been there?”
“No, I don’t think so. It was a long time since I went.” She bit her lip. So he passed the first test. He’s just a tourist, like any other tourist. Don’t go looking for trouble where there’s none. He tightened the lug nuts on the new tire, a small bead of sweat visible on his smooth forehead. He lowered the bus on the jack and popped up, swiping his hands free of dirt.
“That ought to get us there,” he said, and straightened. He was so damn tall. And those muscles. He took a step closer to her and without thinking, Cate backed up. He was too big, too...muscled... Too damn attractive. She felt his gravitational pull and the only way to break the spell was to somehow get out of his orbit. She took another step backward and a flash of alarm lit his face as he looked over her shoulder.
Before Cate knew it, he’d grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed her against the side of the minibus. Before she could even squeak, an oversize white delivery truck rumbled past. Too big for any one lane, its white cab would’ve knocked Cate flat if it weren’t for Tack.
She could feel him breathing as hard as she was, his fit, muscled stomach against her, her face nearly eye to eye with his chest. She could smell him—sweat and salt and the hint of some fresh scent, like laundry drying on the line. Cate ought to have been thinking about how she’d almost been killed by a truck, but instead, all she could think about was Tack’s hard body against hers, how every nerve ending in her body seemed to come alive. It felt like her body had been sleeping, and now, suddenly, every cell was awake, and they all wanted one thing. All she wanted to do was to press herself closer to him, to wrap her arms around his back and feel his sturdiness. She could feel his chest rise and fall and wondered if he felt it, too, this electric rush, this sudden, powerful want.
As she glanced up at his face, she saw his brown eyes studying hers, his eyebrows crinkled with worry.
“Are you okay?” he asked, keeping his body against hers, his bulk still protecting her from the rush of traffic behind him.
Considering all she wanted to do right at that moment was stand on her tiptoes and see if she could taste his lips, she already knew the answer to that question. I might never be okay again.
CHAPTER TWO
TACK WAS ALL too aware of Cate’s body against his, warm and pliant. The way she was looking at him right now made him want to kiss the life out of her, to make her moan with want. Nothing like a life-or-death situation to speed up the libido, he thought, but then wondered if saving her from a speeding truck had anything to do with the fact that he didn’t want to take his hands off her.
Her green eyes studied him, her pink lips parted as he waited for an answer.
“I...I’m fine,” she managed to say, but never broke eye contact. H
e’d always been able to read women, a talent he’d learned early when overnight in high school he’d grown a foot and put on thirty pounds of muscle. They’d gone from ignoring him to waiting at his locker, giggling and blushing all the while.
He could swear the way she craned her neck, the way she leaned into him, she wanted him. The thought sent a thrill down his spine. She wanted him. He had her pinned against the minibus, but she made no move to flee. Her eyes told him she wanted to stay right where she was.
The deep-seated satisfaction this little revelation brought him surprised even him. He wanted her to want him. He’d felt the desire to put his hands on her since he saw her waiting for him at the baggage claim.
He felt drawn closer to her and before he knew it, he was just inches away from her lips. All he’d have to do was drop down a little more...and he’d be kissing her. He wondered what she tasted like. He wanted to find out.
But he couldn’t. Not now.
With great reluctance, he pulled himself away. He saw a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. She wanted that kiss as much as I did. There was no doubt in Tack’s mind.
And then, another, not-so-nice thought popped into his mind. I could use that.
He wasn’t proud of himself for it. Didn’t like how the thought felt oily in his mind, but it was the truth. He had to use every advantage he had. He knew that better than anyone.
Tack watched Cate as she scurried to pick up the wrench and carried it back to the van. He reached out and grabbed the flat, easily lifting it and putting it underneath the carriage where the spare had been. They both climbed back into the minibus.
“Uh...we’re not too far from the resort,” she said, not looking him in the eye, a blush creeping up the side of her cheek as she settled into the driver’s seat once more.
Cate’s mobile phone came to life then, blaring an easy Caribbean tune, and Tack saw her grab the phone from her pocket. “Mark?” she breathed into the phone. “Yes, I’m on the way. Just had a flat, but...” She paused, listening. “No, a guest helped me change it.” For the briefest of seconds, Cate met Tack’s gaze and a deep blush swept her neck as she swiftly looked away. She might as well have been telling him how she felt about their almost-kiss. He wondered how a woman who wore her emotions so clearly on her face could plot to kill her husband, steal from him and flee the country with his only son. She looked to him like an open book.
Which was probably what made her so very dangerous.
Cate glanced away and pressed the phone to her ear. “We’re fine...Really...We’ll be there in two minutes...I will. I promise...Okay. Bye.”
She tucked the phone in her pocket and smiled sheepishly at Tack. “That’s my current business partner. He...” She paused. “He was just checking up on me. Wondering what was taking so long.”
“Protective?” More like possessive, Tack thought and then wondered why he felt a pang of jealousy.
“He just worries about me.” She smiled at Tack in the rearview mirror, but her answer didn’t make him feel any better. A man who called when a woman was ten minutes late from the airport had to be more than a business partner.
“Sounds like he cares about you. Boyfriend?” he asked, and wondered why the word felt so bitter on his tongue.
A laugh burst from Cate, and she shook her head. “Oh, no. Mark’s happily married. His wife, Carol, helps me run the resort, and they’ve got a fifteen-year-old daughter, Grace, who is an amazing high diver. Might even try to get a scholarship in the States.” Cate guided the minibus around the cliff bank and then took a right turn into what seemed like jungle.
The tightness in Tack’s chest eased.
“So, he’s not the boyfriend. Dating someone else? Or are you married?” Technically, he already knew she was divorced. Rick Allen had filed for divorce in her absence and had the courts push it through about a year ago.
Cate didn’t even flinch. “God, no,” she said, and laughed, flicking her long blond hair over one shoulder. The laugh sounded so genuine. “Too busy being a single mom,” she said lightly. No trace of irony in that at all.
“Oh, how old is your child?”
“He’s four,” she said, and he could hear the pride in her voice. “He’s an amazing swimmer. And so very sweet.”
“It’s probably none of my business, but...what happened to his dad?” Tack watched Cate carefully, studying her reflection in the rearview mirror and trying to pick up on any signs of discomfort, of deceit. Her narrow shoulders stiffened ever so slightly, he noted, but she kept her expression neutral.
“He died,” Cate said, voice flat. Her foot nudged the accelerator a little bit more. Seemed like she might want to get to the resort a bit faster.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No. It’s okay.” Cate shrugged and then turned, throwing an almost too-bright smile over one tanned shoulder. “Looks like we’re here.”
Tack glanced out the window and realized they’d taken a turn and were now out of the thick brush and into a cleared parking lot, with a three-story, white brick hotel sitting about a hundred yards from the pristine beach. The blue-green water of the Caribbean sparkled in the sunlight, and a sole, mature palm tree offered shade for a few empty white lounge chairs. Beyond that lay a boat moored at a long wooden dock. Tack could just make out the name painted on the stern: Lost and Found.
Indeed, Cate Allen, he thought as he looked at the lithe blonde who shut off the minibus’s engine. You were lost, but now you’re found. He was more convinced than ever he’d found his target.
“Gorgeous view,” Tack said as he grabbed his seabag and slung it over one shoulder.
“We provided the clean sheets and breakfast buffet, but I can’t take credit for the view,” she said. “Mr. Reeves, if you’ll follow me? I’ll get you checked in.”
The formality wasn’t lost on Tack. He’d been kicked back from first-name basis to formal stranger. As the two walked into the hotel’s lobby, Tack felt a cool blast of air-conditioning, and the air smelled like coconut oil. White marble tile lined the floor, and dark wicker furniture made up the spacious check-in area. Tasteful, he thought. A man with gray, nearly white hair, wearing khaki Bermuda shorts, sprang up from the love seat.
“You okay, Cate?” he asked in gruff voice, concern etched in his face.
“Mark, I’m fine. Uh...Mr. Reeves helped with the flat.” Cate turned and nodded. “Mr. Reeves...this is Mark Gurda. He co-owns the resort with me.”
“Nice to meet you,” Tack said, and extended a hand, noticing that Mark eyed him with suspicion, taking in his build and his seabag.
“Marines, huh?” Mark said, but it didn’t sound like he approved.
“Yep.” Tack nodded. “Retired, though. If you can ever be retired from the marines.” He’d leave out the part about the dishonorable discharge. No need to split hairs.
Mark gave a curt nod but quickly shifted his attention back to Cate. “I...need to talk to you. Do you have a minute?”
Cate hesitated. The man wasn’t just a business partner, that much was clear. And Tack knew more than anyone that being married didn’t mean he wasn’t sleeping with Cate. He’d been hired to catch more than one cheating spouse. As Tack glanced down at Cate’s long, tanned legs, he thought, Who wouldn’t throw away marriage vows for that?
“Mr. Reeves, if you’ll head to the front desk...” Mark nodded curtly away from them, leaving no mistake about his meaning. Get lost. Tack eyed the older man. He hadn’t heard of Gurda before now. She must’ve met him after she’d run away, and somehow convinced him to invest in the resort. But, given all she was said to have stolen, why would she need a coinvestor? Tack would find out.
“May I help you, sir?” called a pretty fortyish woman with short, bobbed hair and a quick smile. She stood behind the front desk. Reluctantly, Tack left Mark, who was
speaking in low tones to Cate about something he wanted to overhear. “Don’t mind my husband,” she added. “He’s gruff on the outside, but a teddy bear on the inside. I’m Carol Gurda. Welcome to St. Anthony’s Resort.” She tapped on the computer behind the desk, and when she looked up again, Tack was leaning on the counter near her. “Oh...my...you’re tall.” She craned her neck to look up at him. “Bet you get that a lot.”
Tack shrugged. “A little bit.” He grinned. While Carol looked up his reservation, Tack couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at Mark and Cate. They’d walked off a few more paces and stood by the window, talking in low tones about something a little too serious for Tack’s liking. Lover’s tiff?
“Cate’s great, isn’t she? Just a doll,” Carol gushed, watching Tack watching Cate.
“She’s captured my attention, that’s for sure,” Tack said, which wasn’t a lie.
Carol eyed him with interest. “You’re staying for a week?” she asked him.
“So far,” he said smoothly. “But I’ve got a flexible schedule, so could I extend the trip if I wanted to?”
Carol brightened further. “Absolutely, you can.”
“I might want to get to know one particular local better.” He grinned at Carol and she returned the smile.
“Cate? You know, Cate’s just the best. I keep hoping she’ll find someone, though my husband tells me to quit meddling. That it’s none of my business, but look at her. Why is she single?”
“Indeed. She’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen,” Tack said. This was also not a lie.
Carol beamed as she grabbed the newly minted key card from the register. “Beautiful inside and out. She really is a sweetheart. Honestly.”
Here’s someone else who thinks she’s nice. Tack had interviewed every person he could find who knew Cate, down to her high school algebra teacher. They all said the same thing—about how sweet she was. Still, people could be fooled. Besides, what sweet person would take a son away from his father? It didn’t make sense.
Shelter in the Tropics Page 2
