Simon let out a long line of expletives. Could this get any worse?
“Oh, and the power’s out all over the resort.”
Why had he asked?
7
SHE’D NEVER SEEN SIMON move so quickly. His long legs ate up ground and he quickly passed her on the trail back to the resort. A hike that had taken her almost thirty minutes took ten at the fastest sprint she’d ever done. And still she arrived in the middle of the chaos minutes after Simon had.
Along the way, she’d heard him instruct Xavier to hook up the truck to the reservoir system that was still functioning. Unfortunately, that meant the truck was limited in how far the hose could reach. And by the time they’d gotten everything hooked up, the shed was completely engulfed.
It held discarded furniture, decorations and pieces that weren’t used but were still in decent shape and worth keeping. No one would be devastated by the loss. The biggest concern was the proximity of the flames to the main hotel building. If that caught fire…it would be bad. Their normal emergency response team was severely limited.
The few employees left on the island crowded around, trying to pitch in and help as best they could. Xavier stood at the end of the powerful hose, his legs spread wide and his weight grounded as he fought to keep the water trained where they needed it most.
Soot and sparks shot into the air, forming a dangerous dark cloud above them. Red-orange flames licked relentlessly up all four sides of the shed, devouring the worn wood with a crackle and hiss.
And Simon was in the thick of it.
Marcy watched as he issued instructions to the people standing around. With a few terse words he had order evolving out of the chaos. Another team hooked up a second hose to the truck and began spraying the side of the main building.
Two more men jumped in line behind Xavier, making it easier to control the powerful stream of water blasting the building.
Her heart thumped erratically against her chest when Simon rushed toward the fire. “What are you doing?” she shouted just as he slipped around the far side of the shed, way too close to the fingers of the fire for her comfort.
Idiot! She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs, but she didn’t. He wouldn’t hear her anyway above the noise of the truck and the sizzle of the flames. What the hell was he doing? There was nothing important enough in that shed to risk his life for.
Her feet followed him anyway. She wasn’t even conscious of deciding to do it—she just moved steadily closer to the shed. Heat blasted her body as a breeze gusted through the narrow passageway between the two buildings. It was functioning as a wind tunnel, funneling oxygen to the greedy fire.
Shouting to Xavier, she told him to concentrate the water on the wall closest to the main building. The shed was a complete loss, but hopefully they could contain the damage.
Ashes and tiny pieces of charred wood rained over her head and shoulders. Squinting her eyes against the heat and blazing light, Marcy tried to find Simon.
“Simon!”
He yelled at her. She thought he told her to get back, but she ignored him. Walking farther into the passageway between the buildings, she finally saw him through the haze of smoke. He was crouched close to the ground. She couldn’t see what he was next to, but it was definitely a dark shape.
She almost yelled at him then. Until she saw the shape move and realized it was someone, not just something. Two someones. From the construction crew. One was stretched out on the ground, the other crouching behind Simon next to him.
The electrical box was only a few feet away. The man on the ground must have been the one shocked.
How had Simon known they were back here? By the time she’d arrived, the smoke had been too thick to see them.
Simon threw her a dark glance when she fell down beside him. She ignored it. He could be angry with her later when the fire was out and they knew the man would be fine.
She was relieved to see that his eyes were open and his chest was rising and falling steadily. Turning to her, Simon ordered her, “Go. We’re right behind you.” Scooping the man up into his arms, Simon waited until she and the other man were dashing ahead of him before following.
Marcy glanced back over her shoulder several times, just to make sure he was there. Even in a crouch, staying low to the ground where the smoke wasn’t as thick and carrying a two-hundred-pound man, Simon could haul ass. Their little knot burst through the end of the passageway and the small group of people around them cheered.
The panic that had been almost palpable when they’d arrived eased. The flames licking at the shed had diminished. Three sides were now only smoldering, thick curls of smoke rolling up from the jagged edges of the damp wood. The fourth side would be joining them shortly if Xavier had anything to say about it.
Marcy was impressed with how he’d handled the crisis, and if she’d still been in charge would have offered him a raise on the spot. But she wasn’t.
From his position on the hose, he hollered over to Simon, “MedFlight should be here shortly. How’s he doing?”
Simon grunted and laid the man gently on the soft grass away from the smoke and flames. “Okay, but I’m not taking any chances.”
Frowning, Simon looked up into the sky. As if he’d conjured them, the steady thwap, thwap, thwap of rotor blades joined the noise around them. Leaning over to one of the restaurant staff, he shouted something in her ear. With a nod, she burst out across the resort, directing the helicopter to the closest patch of open ground big enough for it to land.
Xavier kept the stream of water directed at the still-smoking building as the force of the downdraft pushed another burst of oxygen-rich air across the fire zone. Whether because of that or the daring glare that Xavier directed at the structure, the flames stayed down.
One man stooped low beneath the spinning blades and dashed across the resort toward the cluster of people. A couple of bags were slung over his shoulders. The equipment looked as if it weighed a ton, but his body barely reacted to the stress of it.
Two more men followed behind, a stretcher between them. They crouched and worked, assessing and preparing the man for transport to the hospital. As they were getting ready to leave, one of them came over to Simon.
“We didn’t get the call that there was a fire here, just the electrical shock. Do you need me to radio in for reinforcements from St. Lucia?”
Looking across at Xavier, Simon waited for a shake of his head before declining the offer. “I think we have it handled, but thanks.”
With a nod, the man rushed after the rest of the crew. Once the stretcher was strapped in, the chopper lifted off. Marcy turned her face away from the tiny pieces of debris that lashed her.
Simon wrapped his arms around her and turned her so that her face was buried against his chest. Ducking his own head, he rested his cheek on her hair.
He smelled of soot and man. His shirt was damp, but she burrowed closer to him anyway. Her body started to shake. She knew it was just a delayed reaction to everything that had happened, her muscles revolting against the stress and the flood of adrenaline that was quickly receding.
But she couldn’t stop it.
She wasn’t cold. Not really. But her teeth began to chatter anyway.
Simon must have felt it, because he pulled away, holding her at arm’s length as he looked at her. His eyes, intent and focused, studied her face. Without looking away he shouted, “Xavier, you got everything under control?”
“Yep, we’re all good. Fire’s out. I’ll keep someone on watch through the night for hot spots, but I don’t expect any.”
“Great” was Simon’s only response. With a sweep of his arms, he picked her up and cradled her against his body.
Marcy sputtered, but the protest she wanted to make died on her lips.
This was a side of Simon she’d never seen. One that intrigued and—if she was honest with herself—aroused her. Where was the laid-back surf god she’d been butting heads with for the past two years? Had he
been kidnapped by tree sprites and held hostage in the jungle?
The man holding her in his arms was commanding, no-nonsense and completely capable. Not that that last one really surprised her. She’d always known a capable businessman lurked beneath that jovial, joking facade. That’s what had frustrated her so much.
He could give a damn—he just chose not to. As far as she was concerned, that was a complete waste of his potential. And nothing bothered her more than to watch something useful go unused.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, finally breaking the charged silence that had settled between them.
“Where do you think?” He bit out the words through stiff jaws.
He was upset. She thought she knew why but decided, in light of this new side to Simon, she wasn’t going to act on the assumption. Probably better to wait for solid ground.
Turning sharply, he headed for the main entrance to the hotel. “To get cleaned up?” she said hopefully.
A humorless chuckle rumbled through his body. She could feel the vibrations of it roll through her like the reverberations from a plucked guitar string. They rekindled the burning need that the crisis had dampened.
Better than the teeth chattering.
Pushing through the front door, he let it slam behind them. The cool interior of the building was dark and a few steps inside only the weakest light remained. Outside, she realized, it was late afternoon, but inside it felt closer to dusk.
“No water, remember. And by the time we can stop pouring water over that building, chances are the reservoir will be dry.”
Marcy cursed, but there wasn’t any heat behind her words. Sure, a shower would be nice, but that would mean he’d have to put her down. She didn’t want to examine too closely why that idea didn’t appeal to her right now.
He strode through the building, heading for the stairs. Taking them two at a time, he began the climb up four flights. She could feel the powerful surge of his muscles as they bunched and moved beneath her.
Looking down at her arms tangled tightly around Simon’s neck, she realized they were dirty. Dark patches of soot covered her upper arms. Trails of naked skin peeked through where stray drops of water had fallen and rolled down.
She was nasty.
Looking up into his face, she realized she wasn’t the only one covered in soot. Streaks of it ran down over his forehead and cheeks. The sharp tang of burning wood clung to their skin.
He was filthy.
She didn’t care.
The vision of him running beside that burning building burst through her mind. Another surge of adrenaline accompanied it.
Letting go with one hand, she used it to smack his shoulder.
Stopping midstride, his eyebrows crashing together, he said, “Ow! What was that for?”
They were halfway up, perched on the landing for the third floor. His voice echoed through the confined space, bouncing all around them.
“That was for being stupid and heading into the fire.”
His expression cleared and a knowing grin twitched at the corners of his lips.
Continuing their climb, he argued, “I didn’t head into the fire.”
“Semantics. You were close enough to be burned. Or overcome by smoke inhalation. How did you know they were back there, anyway?”
“One of the crew told me when I arrived. At first they thought it was safer to leave him there until the helicopter came. But then the fire spread and the smoke shifted, cutting off the passageway. They were about to go in after them and I told them to wait.”
“So that you could play hero yourself.”
“Because I already had one man down, possibly two, that I was responsible for. I wasn’t about to let two more follow.”
Damn. She had seriously underestimated this man.
Something in the center of her chest swelled, but before she could analyze it, Simon was kicking open the stairway door to the top floor.
Anticipation, desire and apprehension swirled through her, a dangerous combination that was uncomfortable and energizing at the same time. She had no illusions as to why Simon was carrying her into his apartments. They’d started something in the jungle, and despite the interruption, he had every intention of following through and finishing it.
And if she wasn’t sure about that she needed to decide now. Before he overwhelmed her senses again and logical thought became impossible.
She opened her mouth to say something, although she honestly wasn’t sure what, but he cut her off.
“And while we’re on the subject, what kind of incompetent work crew did you hire? First they break the main waterline. Then they get one of their men injured and start an electrical fire. Really, Marcy, is that what you call doing a good job?”
He stared down at her. Despite the fact that his eyes were hard and direct, she could still see the glimmer of passion lurking in the back.
“Excuse me? I’m damn good at my job.”
Simon opened his door, then pushed it closed with the heel of his shoe behind them. Instead of moving straight to the bedroom as she’d expected, he stopped in the middle of his living room. Still holding her in his arms, he stood there.
Undercurrents flew between them, even as they continued their conversation. “Were. Were damn good at your job. You quit, remember?”
“Right.” And that was an important thing to remember because the minute she gave in to whatever this was between them, the possibility of working for him again would be gone forever. After what had happened in New York, she refused to sleep with anyone she worked with—especially someone she worked for.
“The crew I usually use was unavailable until Friday. We had a long list and a short time to complete it. We needed a full crew for the entire two weeks. I couldn’t wait for them. These guys came highly recommended.”
“By who? The three stooges?”
“One of the men I usually use.”
“I’m guessing these guys are blackmailing him for referrals, because I doubt they could figure out which end of a hammer to use.”
Dropping her arms from around his neck, she crossed them over her chest. She didn’t want to be impressed by the way he compensated for the loss of her help in keeping her rear end off the floor. But she couldn’t help it.
His arm muscles bunched and his chest flexed. She could see the clearly defined bulge beneath the thin, wet material of his shirt. He was built. Why had she never noticed that before? Maybe she should take up surfing instead of running if the result was that kind of muscle tone.
“Give them some credit. They fixed the roof of the restaurant with no problems. Hammers aren’t their issue. I will admit that perhaps plumbing and electrical jobs are out of their jurisdiction.”
“I don’t have to give them credit for anything. They’ve cost me enough money. I’m firing them.”
“And how do you propose to finish the list of repairs and renovations before we reopen?”
He leaned over her, bringing their mouths centimeters apart. His eyes flared as they toured slowly across her face to settle on her mouth. They glittered with a promise and heat that sent awareness zinging through her body.
He hummed, deep in his throat. The sound was wild and sexy, a last warning of his intent.
“I guess that’s my problem now. Last chance. If you want to walk out that door you better do it now, because in sixty seconds I won’t be able to let you go.”
It was the sexiest thing any man had ever said to her. What woman could resist that kind of naked admission?
Not her. Giving in was inevitable, but that didn’t mean she had to throw all caution to the wind. Caution was part of her DNA.
“I’m not staying.”
“I don’t remember suggesting you would.”
“I just want to make sure you know this won’t change anything.”
His mouth dropped to her throat and trailed across her skin. The sharp edge of his teeth followed the tendon that curved from her neck down her shoulder.
He didn’t hurt her, but it was hard to miss the implication that he could have…if he’d wanted to. That kind of leashed power was intoxicating.
His words brushed softly against her skin, but that did nothing to lessen their impact. “You’re wrong. It’s going to change a lot of things.”
“But not me leaving,” she breathed out, trying desperately to keep hold of her thoughts.
He lifted his head and speared her with his gaze. She felt hunted, vulnerable, desired.
“No, whatever this is won’t keep you from leaving.”
She dampened her dry lips, rolling them into her mouth and swiping her tongue across them. “As long as we’re clear.”
“Oh, we’re clear.”
8
SIMON STALKED into the bedroom, her body tucked safely against his own.
He did not like the dirt that covered her skin. Not because it bothered him that she was dirty—it didn’t—but because it meant she’d gotten close enough to the fire to be hurt.
When she’d materialized out of the smoke beside him in that tiny alley he’d wanted to growl and yell and carry her as far away from the danger as possible. Logically, he’d realized that wasn’t possible. He’d needed to take care of the injured man. But at that moment logic had only barely come into play.
He moved to set her onto the dark navy bedspread covering the king-size mattress in the middle of the room. Marcy protested, a high-pitched squeak erupting from her. “Don’t you dare. You’ll ruin it. We’re filthy.”
“I don’t care,” he answered, dropping her onto the soft surface. He’d buy a new bed if he had to, but nothing was going to stop him from having her. Right now.
Marcy tried to keep her body off the comforter as she scrambled for the other side of the bed. She glared at him over her shoulder, but he didn’t let that deter him. Grasping her by the ankle, he stopped her retreat and pulled her back to the center of the bed.
“Give it up. It’s already dirty,” he rumbled.
Rub It In Page 8
