Suddenly, out of the darkness, Noah Rider appeared.

A gasp escaped Paige, and he spun around at the sound and did something she could never have expected.

He kissed her.

Sudden and fierce and hot, he kissed her. She responded, unable not to, and heat rocketed through her again.

He broke the kiss, and she suddenly realized that he’d kissed her to keep her quiet, to keep her from alerting their captors.

But then he whispered, “I’ve been wanting to do that for days.”

She wanted to say that she had, too, wanted to believe that keeping her quiet hadn’t been his only reason.

But even if it hadn’t, where did that leave them? Where did they go from here?

Nowhere, she realized, unless they got out of this alive. And there was a very real possibility that they wouldn’t….

Just Another Day in Paradise
Justine Davis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

JUSTINE DAVIS

lives in Kingston, Washington. Her interests outside of writing are sailing, doing needlework, horseback riding and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadster—top down, of course.

A policewoman, Justine says that years ago, a young man she worked with encouraged her to try for a promotion to a position that was, at that time, occupied only by men. “I succeeded, became wrapped up in my new job and that man moved away, never, I thought, to be heard from again. Ten years later he appeared out of the woods of Washington State, saying he’d never forgotten me and would I please marry him. With that history, how could I write anything but romance?”

Once upon a time, there was a genre of books that was sadly misunderstood by anyone who didn’t read them. Those who did read, loved them, cherished them, were changed by them. But still, these books got no respect on the outside. In fact these books were belittled, denigrated, held up as bad examples, while their readers and authors were sneered at and insulted by people who, although they never read the books, had somehow arrived at the idea that it was all right to slap others down for their choices. But those readers and authors kept on in the face of this horrible prejudice. Why? Because they found something in these books that they found nowhere else. Something precious, that spoke to them in a very deep and basic way.

Then one day, this beleaguered genre was given a gift. A fairy godmother, if you will, a person with an incredible knowledge of these books and why they worked, and an even more incredible generosity of spirit. A one-person support system who gave so much to the writers of these stories, and was ever unselfish with her time and that amazing knowledge. And her endorsement counted for something; readers took her word and knew they would rarely be disappointed. She was a rock, a pillar on which the genre depended. Her loss has left a gaping hole that can never be filled, and will always be felt by those who love these books—and loved her.

For those reasons and so many more, the Redstone, Incorporated series is dedicated to

MELINDA HELFER

Lost to us August 24, 2000,

but if heaven is what it should be, she’s in an endless library, with an eternity to revel in the books she loved.

Happy reading, my friend….

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Epilogue

Chapter 1

“It’s scary to see that here in paradise.”

Noah Rider nodded at Redstone Inc. pilot Tess Machado as they looked out the parked jet’s window at the airport terminal. There was something inherently ominous about men in camouflage anywhere, but it seemed even worse in a tropical paradise. Especially when those men in camouflage had automatic rifles slung over their shoulders.

He called up a memo on his laptop computer, knowing he needed to notify the main office that things might be worse than suspected. Redstone had received reports that the rebels were calling it a political uprising, when in fact it was simply a rebellion against the suppression of the drug traffic. But if the government of Arethusa felt the need to guard the airport, it did not bode well for continued peace in this Caribbean island paradise.

“It’s a good thing the resort guests coming in next week won’t be making this stop,” Tess said.

Rider looked at the woman who had been Joshua Redstone’s personal pilot for six years, ever since the head of Redstone Inc. had reluctantly acknowledged he had to work during a flight too often to keep doing all the flying himself.

“Yes,” he agreed. “It’s not the most welcoming sight for vacationers.”

He knew some would arrive at the newest Redstone resort in their own planes, some via Josh’s private fleet—probably even the new Redstone Hawk IV he sat in now—but none should need a refueling stop before landing at the new airstrip at Redstone Bay. They had only stopped to pick up a shipment for the resort; the Hawk IV had more than enough range to make the trip from India nonstop.

“Do you know who you’re bringing in next week?” he asked her. When Tess wasn’t piloting Josh, she was part of the Redstone pilot pool, at her request; she loved flying. She traveled almost as much as Noah, and he wondered what kind of strain that put on her relationship with the stockbroker she’d been seeing. It had certainly been enough to destroy his own marriage, and the one serious relationship he’d had since. He kept his mouth shut, however; Tess was like a big sister to him, and she’d made it clear if there was any advice giving to be done between them, he’d be on the receiving end.

“I’m not sure yet,” she answered. “But if we have to stop for any reason, it’ll be in Antigua,” Tess said, pushing dark bangs back with her fingers as she looked out the window once more.

“Good idea.” Her gesture made Rider think of his own appearance, and he rubbed a hand over his bewhiskered face.

As Tess returned to the cockpit he rose and walked back to the head, although it had always seemed ludicrous to him to call something as elegantly appointed as this bathroom a head. Josh had drawn the line at gold-plated fixtures for this, his own personal jet, but everything was still the highest quality. As were all the planes built by Redstone. From the smallest prop to the biggest jet they made, the fleet that was the foundation of Joshua Redstone’s business empire was all pure class.

But the quality of the mirror couldn’t help the reflection, Rider thought as he peered at himself. He looked like what he was, a man who’d been running too long on too little sleep. His dark hair was tousled and overdue for a haircut, he’d gone beyond fashionable stubble sometime yesterday afternoon—whatever time zone that had been in—and his eyes were as much red as blue. But nobody would really care what he looked like as long as he acknowledged the hard work they’d been doing.

As they began to roll again, loading completed, Rider went back to his seat and glanced out at the military men once more. He wondered for a fleeting moment if his clever boss had done this intentionally, so he’d get a firsthand look at the situation on Arethusa. But he discarded the thought; if that were the case, Josh would have sent Draven, or someone else on the security-and-troubleshooting staff, not him. He was strictly a detail man, and hadn’t been this close to serious weaponry since the years spent hunting with his father in the wilds of Montana. He might once have been able to stalk even a wary skunk, but these days boardrooms were as close as he came to throat-slitting violence. And most times, that was close enough for him. He was glad to leave Arethusa behind.

By the time they were approaching Redstone Bay, Rider had his checklist prioritized. First the staff meeting to thank them all for what they’d done so far, then individual meetings. Then he would—

Tess’s voice crackled over the intercom. “We’re about to land, Mr. Rider.”

Smiling at the formality she always maintained once in the cockpit, Rider pressed the intercom button on the console beside the spacious table. “Thanks.”

He’d asked for a circuit of the island before they landed, so he could see what the place looked like from all approach directions. He had a knack—some called it a brain glitch—for remembering maps and plans, and he could call up the original planned layout at will. So now he studied the view below, nodding slowly.

They’d done a good job, kept the disruption of the landscape to a minimum and the buildings in keeping with the style of this part of the world. Not that there was any lack of luxury, but there was no towering concrete monolith of a hotel here—that wasn’t Redstone’s style. The four-story buildings were arranged around a large courtyard, and were low enough to be masked by the inevitable palm trees. A number of small, elegant and very private bungalows were scattered among the trees. The swimming pool at one edge of the courtyard was also subtle, designed to look more like a natural lagoon and grotto than something built by man.

Even the landing strip, Rider thought as they banked for the last turn, wasn’t a huge scar on the land, but had been landscaped with exquisite care to maintain the most natural look possible.

He sat back in the leather seat, nodding with satisfaction. This, he thought, was going to be smooth sailing.

Paige Cooper turned a page in her leather-bound journal, ran her finger down the center to make it lie flat, and picked up her pen. Then she set it down again, caught unexpectedly by a wave of emotion. She closed the journal and gently touched the cover, tracing the intricate Celtic design on the teal-green leather. Moisture welled up behind her eyelids as she fought down a stab of fierce longing for those days past, when life had been good and her son, Kyle, had loved her enough to save all his allowance for three months to buy this for her birthday.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, she saw Kyle out of the corner of her eye, leaving his room and walking toward the front door of the bungalow they’d been given to live in while she was on the staff. She knew the instant he realized she was there by the way his normal, gangly-fifteen-year-old walk became a slow, dragging shuffle, with his shoulders slumped as if he bore the weight of an unfair world.

She smothered a sigh and tried for a cheerful tone. “Where are you off to?”

He stopped dead. Only his head turned toward her as he gave her a look of such exaggerated incredulity that she winced inwardly. Everything seemed to be over-the-top with him these days.

“Nowhere.” His voice was bitter, acidly so. “Since I’m in the middle of noplace, with no friends and nothing to do, I’m going nowhere.”

She reined in the urge to order him not to use that tone with her. She knew he was having a hard time just now, and tried not to focus on the superficial symptoms of that.

“It must be awful to feel that way,” she said, her voice carefully even. “Especially when lots of people would love to be here.”

It stopped him, but not for long. “Those people would be here by choice. They wouldn’t be dragged away from home, forced to leave all their friends and even their own stuff.”

She’d known when she’d taken the Redstone job last month that this could be a problem. “I told you,” she said patiently, “as soon as we get a little ahead you can have Danny come for a visit.”

“Danny? That little geek?” Kyle sneered.

“He’s your best friend.”

“Maybe when I was seven. You just don’t get it, do you? I’ve grown up, I can’t hang around with those little kids.”

“He’s your age,” Paige pointed out.

“It isn’t the age,” Kyle said haughtily, “it’s the maturity. Danny is still a kid. All he thinks about is school and sports and computers. He doesn’t have a life.”

Paige’s patience ran out abruptly. She stood up, not that it helped much now that Kyle was nearly two inches taller than her five foot four.

“You think it’s more mature to have a police record that will follow you the rest of your life? That your life is best spent playing video games endlessly? That it’s more grown-up to hurt the people that love you the most?”

Kyle flushed. “The one that loved me the most is dead,” he shouted, and ran out the door.

Paige sank back into her chair, blinking rapidly. The truth boiled up inside her, and she was thankful Kyle had gone. She didn’t think she could have held it back this time. But telling him would only hurt him all over again, and he’d been through enough. He’d adored his father and now he was dead, and beyond that nothing much mattered.

Except that now, at fifteen, that same loving son hated her. And never let pass a chance to tell her yet again how she had ruined his life and he would never, ever forgive her.

She fought down the urge to cry; she’d wept enough over this to know it was a useless exercise. She straightened her spine, opened the journal and picked up her pen.

Sometimes, she told herself firmly, you just have to do what you know is right, and damn the torpedoes. Or whatever that saying was.

She found her page and glanced at what she had written before: “Nothing much happens here in Redstone Bay.”

It suddenly struck her this was very much like the opening of an old, much-loved book her mother had handed on to her. It had been written on a postcard in the story, but the sentiment had been the same. In the book it had also been the precursor to chaos for the unsuspecting heroine.

Paige smiled wistfully at her own whimsy. She lifted her gaze and looked around at paradise. A slight, balmy breeze rustled the palm fronds, but barely stirred the few strands of hair that had escaped her braid. She couldn’t imagine a more peaceful place. The strife she’d heard the hotel staff talking about seemed distant and unreal in this haven of serenity.

And that serenity was exactly what she’d come here for. It had been difficult, giving up her home. But she’d had enough of the brutal streets of Los Angeles. And more than that, she’d had too much of what they were doing to her son. She empathized more than he would believe with his struggle to go on without his father, but she simply would not allow Kyle to be turned into one of those street fighters who turned up on the nightly news, either as killer or victim.

The distant sound that had been niggling at the edge of her awareness swelled to a roar, and she looked up to see a sleek jet, painted in the red-and-gray color scheme of Redstone Inc. She thought it looked like the same one that had ferried her here from California, and wondered if Tess Machado was flying it. She had liked the charming woman with dark, pixie-cut hair and the lovely smile. It had been an experience unlike any she’d ever had; the novelty of leaving when it was convenient for her, of knowing the plane would wait if she was late, and sheer amazement at the amenities. And Tess had told her Josh—anyone who’d worked for Redstone more than a year seemed to call him that—hadn’t gone for the extreme luxury he produced for other customers; he’d spent his money in the avionics, the instruments and in extra training for his pilots.

Even Kyle had forgotten his anger in the thrill of the ride on the powerful jet, and for the length of the ride at least, they’d been close once more as he excitedly pointed things out to her. He’d even thanked her when she’d negotiated with Tess to allow him a brief period in the cockpit. She knew he would enjoy it, and besides, it couldn’t hurt for him to see the pilot was female.

As the jet headed for the landing strip, Paige glanced at her watch. The point man, it seemed, was right on time; the staff meeting was set to begin in an hour. Everything she’d ever seen connected to Redstone seemed to run like clockwork, although she was sure there had to be glitches in at least some of their huge undertakings. But that’s what this guy was here for, she thought. To smooth out the bumps in these last days before the Redstone Bay Resort opened for business.

She closed her journal and stood up. The mild breeze played with the hem of her new, tropical-print dress, an indulgence she had allowed herself the day after she’d accepted the job offer that had brought her here. She rarely wore it—she had to be too careful as a redhead in a land of tropical sun—but she’d put it on today because she needed the confidence the flattering dress gave her.

And speaking of that job, she told herself, she’d better take the short time she had to go over her papers once more. She doubted the man would want to delve into her lesson plans, but it had been a few years since she’d taught, and Joshua Redstone had taken a chance on her, so she wanted to be completely prepared just in case. She was happy with how her students had adapted so far.

Except for the one student she’d known was going to be a problem from the beginning, a certain angry, recalcitrant fifteen-year-old. Kyle alone sapped at her energy, and she wasn’t sure she was up to adding twenty-six other kids into the mix. But she had no choice.

After one final glance over her schedules and plans, she gathered everything up and put it into her tote bag. It would take about five minutes for her to walk to the main building from their bungalow. She’d let him pick it out from the ones available for staff, hoping it would make him less resistant to being here. It hadn’t helped much—she suspected he’d picked this one because it was farthest from the schoolhouse and would be the most inconvenient for her.

But she’d taken his choice gracefully, exclaiming on the lovely view of the water and closeness to the perfect beach, as if it were the one she would have chosen herself. That her reaction only made him angrier seemed proof of her suspicions, and she knew then that when you came to paradise, you could still carry your own hell with you.

Rider studied himself in the mirror for a moment, decided his tie was even enough, and reached for his suit coat. Later he would change into more casual clothes. He’d found it helped loosen people up, that they talked more easily to a guy in jeans or khakis. Maybe he’d even pull out that Hawaiian-style shirt Josh had given him. He’d thought at the time the shirt was a joke, but then wondered if maybe it was his boss’s way of telling him once more to lighten up and relax. Of course, it had been Josh who’d had him on the run for three months straight, bouncing all over the globe to keep up with various projects.

He rubbed at his eyes, knowing he’d need about ten hours’ sleep to help the redness. But other than that he looked fairly presentable now that he’d had a shower and tried out the hotel barber, who had arrived a couple of days ago to set up shop and get the staff in shape. Not that Josh cared how you wore your hair, as long as it was clean and neat. Rider had seen the single photograph that had survived from the founder of Redstone’s mysterious youth, and the teenager with the intense eyes and the long mane of dark hair didn’t seem all that far removed from the business powerhouse Rider knew now.

He stepped outside his room just as Barry Rutherford, the cherub-faced, slightly fussy project manager, was arriving.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you, Mr. Rider. I’ll show you to the dining room,” he said formally, referring to the large room utilized by the staff. Redstone Bay was specifically designed not to handle conferences or large meetings, it was for people to get away and unwind.

“Just ‘Rider,’ please, Barry,” he said. “And I probably can find it. I think I had the plans memorized before construction even started.” He gave Barry a crooked grin. “Let me try, anyway, since you’re here to save me if I get lost.”

Barry smiled tentatively this time when he spoke. “I really am sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”

“What fire were you putting out?” Rider asked with another grin, this time one of commiseration and understanding.

“A small one, really. Our facilities director was called home for an emergency, and I had to assign someone to handle the job.”

Rider headed down the hall toward the elevator. “Will he be back in time?”

“I don’t know, I’m afraid. It’s something to do with the problems on Arethusa. So I’m going to work out a schedule to cover in case he’s unable to return right away.”

“Good,” Rider said with a nod, although he was frowning inwardly. Suddenly Arethusa didn’t seem quite so distant.

But the resort itself was looking good. True, there were materials scattered about and workers scurrying, but he was used to that. He’d learned long ago to look past the surface chaos and see truly how close they were to being ready. And Redstone Bay was close.

“What’s hanging besides polish work?” he asked.

“Nothing, really,” Barry said proudly. “All the major projects are done.”

“What about off-site? The staff housing, the school?”

“The only bungalows not completed are the ones where the occupants can’t make up their minds what color they want,” Barry said with a chuckle. “The school was finished last month, and is already in operation.”

“Any changes?”

He shook his head. “None needed. Somebody spec’ed it out perfectly.”

Rider wondered if the man was trying to butter him up; he must know Rider had been the one who had made the final changes on the plans and equipment list for the small schoolhouse.

“The man’s a bit manic about education,” Rider said, referring to the passion all of Josh’s people knew about.

“It keeps people happy, being able to work here and keep their kids with them.”

“And Redstone likes happy people,” Rider intoned, quoting the mantra that they all laughed at but lived by, knowing that as far as employers went they were with one of the best. The formula Josh had stuck to for years still worked; he hired top-notch people, paid them well and let them run.

Rider found his way to the dining room as easily as he’d hoped. It was nearly full; the staff would eat at different times, so it would rarely be this packed again. Rider declined Barry’s offer to introduce him to the gathered crowd, many of whom had noticed their entrance and suspended conversation.

“I don’t want this to be that formal,” he explained. “I’m not the boss checking up on the employees.”

Barry nodded. “Here’s the roster,” he said, handing Rider a small sheaf of papers. “And your master cardkey.” Rider took the papers and slipped the key into a pocket; he knew the key, which would override any lock in the resort, was the symbol that the project manager considered all parts of the hotel ready for official inspection. It had become a tradition of sorts, and Rider knew that as long as he got that key within eight hours of his arrival, chances were things would be okay.

He stepped up to the small podium. It didn’t take long for the silence to spread. When they were all watching him he said, “I’m Noah Rider, the project coordinator, and I’m here to tell you if you don’t like the uniforms, it’s too late.”

Laughter rippled through the room, as he’d hoped it would; they’d all had a chance to give their input and vote on what the uniforms should be.

“I haven’t had much time to look around yet,” he went on, “but what I can see looks good. That’s not to say there aren’t some problems, there always are. That’s what I’m here to help with. But everything’s coming together nicely, you’ve all obviously done your jobs well, and Redstone Bay is lucky to have you.”

A burst of cheers and whistles greeted that.

“That said, anyone have any problems that need to be dealt with before opening day?”

“We need a new movie service,” somebody called out. “This one just runs the same old stuff over and over.”

Rider grinned. “Just so happens I brought along a really big satellite dish. Anybody know how to set one of those puppies up?”

Laughter and cheers met that as well. When no other complaints arose, he nodded in satisfaction.

On some other level of his mind, beneath the part that was handling the speaking task, he registered that there was a redhead in the back row. She snagged his attention, as any woman with hair of that particular rich, autumn-leaves shade did. Even after five years.

It wasn’t that he thought about it a lot. It was not, after all, his finest hour, and he didn’t like dwelling on it. In fact, in a life that held few regrets, that one woman stood as an eternal torch of reproach.

He shook off the memory and began again, scanning the room, trying to make eye contact with everyone. “I hope to meet with you all over the next ten days, and I want you to feel free to bring up anything you want. Some of the best ideas come from you, out on the front line, and that’s what I’m here for.”

It was a motivational statement, Rider knew, but it was also true, and Redstone believed in it. And the staff responded, nodding as they turned and glanced at each other. There was a reason Redstone was consistently in the top ten on lists of best places to work.

“Doesn’t matter if it’s business or personal, I—”

Rider was only vaguely aware he’d stopped talking. Or that he was staring. A beefy, broad-shouldered man had shifted in his seat, giving Rider a full view of the woman with the coppery hair.

It can’t be.

She sat there at the very back table, staring down at folders in front of her. He silently urged her to look up, to face him so he could be sure. But she didn’t. Or wouldn’t. And he was sure, anyway. He knew he couldn’t mistake the long, thick braid of hair, the line of her cheekbones, the tilt of her nose. He knew if she looked up, her eyes would be that rich, cinnamon-brown. He knew it.

But it can’t be.

He lifted the now-forgotten page of statistics and grabbed at the personnel roster Barry had given him. He scanned it quickly and let out a sigh of relief; her name wasn’t there. It was a fluke, just a resemblance. He’d reacted out of guilt, that’s all.

Steady again, he moved to slip the roster back beneath his page of notes. It snagged on something, and he reached to free it from the small piece of paper stapled to the back of the roster.

He glimpsed the last few words on the note before his page pulled clear. He grabbed at it, tearing it loose from the staple. And there it was, immutable and real. The news that the teacher had arrived nearly a month ago to get the island school up and running before the opening. The teacher. Paige Cooper.

He’d hoped never to see her again. He’d hungered to see her again. He’d never resolved the contradiction. And now the contradiction was sitting in front of him.

The only woman who had ever made him throw whatever decency and common sense he had out the window.

The only woman who could shame him with just a look.

The only woman who had ever made him ache for her in so many ways he couldn’t even count them all.

Paige Cooper, sitting there, refusing to look at him, reminding him all the more of what he’d done the last time he’d seen her. He remembered his earlier assessment, and decided he must have really ticked off whatever god was in charge of his fate at the moment.

The ship he’d thought was going to have a smooth sailing had just encountered a reef.

Chapter 2

He had a roomful of people staring at him, and Rider couldn’t for the life of him remember what he’d been going to say. He wasn’t at a total loss often enough to have learned how to deal with it well, so he knew he was fumbling now. He took refuge in the numbers and details he could spout without thought and began the rundown while his mind raced.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised. It was a very Joshua-like thing to do, to hire the widow of one of his people. Especially since Phil Cooper had been killed while working for Redstone. Even though the man hadn’t been one of Redstone’s hires originally—he’d been a vice president of a purchased company—Josh didn’t make a habit of wholesale firings at new acquisitions.

I would have fired him, Rider thought, anger spiking even after all this time. But he knew his feelings were biased. The Redstone investigation into Cooper’s death had been, as usual, thorough and deep. In fact, the deepest one he’d ever seen, because the plane had been brought down over Portugal by a terrorist bomb. After five years they still didn’t know exactly who had done it, they’d only succeeded in narrowing down the possibilities. And discovering that Cooper had left his widow in unpleasant, if not dire, straits.

Rider knew the truth about why Phil Cooper had been on that plane. If he hadn’t, he would have felt only a vague sorrow at the death of a man he’d hardly known. And only a pity-tinged sympathy for his wife.

But instead…

With an effort he shoved his thoughts aside. He finished acknowledging the impressive list of things accomplished since construction had started. And finally remembered where he’d been before he’d gotten derailed.

“As I was saying before jet lag caught up with me,” he joked, “whatever you have to say, I’m here to listen. Those of you who have worked for Redstone, you know I mean it. Those of you who are just starting out, welcome.”

He started to move away from the podium, then turned back. “Oh, did I mention the party? We’ll be having it two days before the opening.” He managed a grin. “Two days, because we expect you to enjoy it so much it’ll take that long to clean up for the opening.”

A rather raucous round of applause greeted that statement, loudest from those who had worked at a Redstone resort before and knew that they definitely knew how to throw a party.

Rider waved in recognition of the good cheer and left the small lectern. The moment his mind was freed from the task of conducting the meeting, it leaped back to the subject he’d tried to suppress.

Paige Cooper. Here. Unavoidably here.

He let out a compressed breath. He’d long ago given up trying to convince himself that what he’d felt five years before was just sympathy. He’d felt a lot more than that. And what he’d felt had led him to actions so uncharacteristic that he’d shocked himself. He still couldn’t quite believe it.

And if his reaction just now was any indication, those feelings had only been in hibernation.

His smooth-sailing ship, he thought grimly, had just run aground.

I should have known, Paige moaned inwardly. How could it not have even occurred to me that it would be him?

She barely managed to gather up her papers, and nearly dropped the tote bag in her haste. She dodged out of the dining room and headed for the outer door at the fastest pace she could manage without running and drawing attention. Once outside she slowed, pressing her fingers to her face, wishing for an icy-cold breeze. Her fingers were cooler than her overheated cheeks, but not cool enough. Ice, she thought. Ice would be good.

“You idiot,” she muttered to herself. “You’re such a fool.”

She knew, had known even back then, that Noah Rider was one of Redstone’s premiere point men. That he ran all over the world, setting up new operations, finalizing things. So why on earth hadn’t she realized there was a good chance the exec sent to oversee the final stages of Redstone Bay would be him? True, she’d been busy, her classes had started barely a week after she’d arrived so the kids would be in the routine by the time the resort opened, so there had been little chance for her to hear his name mentioned, but still—

“Paige? You all right?” Miranda Mayfield, head of technical services and mother of two of her students, put a hand on her shoulder.

“Fine. Thank you.” She sounded completely unconvincing, even to herself. Miranda looked doubtful, and Paige tried to pull herself together. “It must have been the crowd,” she said. “I’ve gotten used to the quiet here.”

Miranda smiled. “It is that, isn’t it? Almost makes up for those rascals you’re trying to teach.”

Paige managed a smile. “They’re good kids.” Except for mine, at the moment, she amended silently.

“They like you. And you’re giving attention to all of them, despite the difference in ages. All the parents are pleased. We know that can’t be easy to accomplish.”

“Thank you,” Paige said again, meaning it this time. It was sweet of Miranda to tell her that.

When the woman had gone, Paige took in a deep breath of the balmy air. She was steadier now. Steady enough to marvel at how shaken she had felt just moments ago.

But perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. Not when she’d just been faced with the man who’d inspired her to the most impulsive thing she’d ever done in her generally traditional life. Her husband’s body not even brought home yet, and she’d shared a passionate embrace with a man she barely knew. An embrace that could easily have led to more, had the arrival of her son not interrupted them. Her recollection of that time wasn’t clear, was mercifully lost in a sort of fog, but that one vivid, shocking memory was forever seared into her mind.

She had been able, since then, to rationalize her actions. Given the circumstances—all of them—she obviously hadn’t been herself. But there was no analyzing away her reaction to the man. What she’d done, practically throwing herself at him, might have arisen out of her emotional state, but her response to him, to his mouth, to his hands on her, had been purely physical and unlike anything she’d ever known before or since.

And if she’d succeeded over the past five years in pushing him out of her mind, it had been made clear to her just now that her body remembered him perfectly. So perfectly it had nearly forgotten how to breathe when he’d walked into the room.

It made no sense. She knew who he was, what he was, that he was a globe-trotter of epic proportion. That alone should be enough to send her scurrying; she’d been down that road once and still carried the scars. But instead she had been drawn, aware not only of the piercing blue of his eyes and the male strength of his jaw but the empathy she’d seen in his eyes and the gentle touch of hands that somehow seemed to ease the pain.

And if the jump of her heart just now and the pounding that had followed when she had realized it really was him were any indication, she was still drawn. Powerfully. Painfully.

Foolishly. That above all. Noah Rider was many things, including good-looking, smart, trusted by the shrewd and brilliant Joshua Redstone, and a high-powered executive, just as her late husband had been. What he was not was a man for a woman like her. Or perhaps any woman. She’d heard his work came first, last and in between.

She heard the door open behind her again and wished she’d gone before the motherly Miranda had come back to check on her again. With a “Really, I’m fine” on her lips she began to turn. But she froze; the footsteps she heard did not belong to the petite, usually high-heeled Miranda. They were heavier, more solid. Male. Yes, definitely male.

She should truly have run when she’d had the chance.

The footsteps came to a halt behind her. Every muscle in her body seemed to tighten as she waited, holding her breath. It could be anyone, but she knew as clearly as if she’d turned to look who it was.

The silence spun out for a long, aching moment.

“Paige?”

She let out the breath she’d been holding, in a long, inaudible sigh. It took every bit of nerve she had to do it, but she turned to face him.

“Hello, Noah,” she said, softer than she would have liked, but more evenly than she’d expected. And then regretted it, when a faint flicker in those eyes reminded her he was usually referred to as Rider by everyone else.

For a long moment he just stood there, staring at her. He was as big as she remembered, at least six feet, a good eight inches taller than she. His hair was just as dark, and he wore the same kind of conservative gray suit—although because of the tropical locale, lighter weight this time—he had worn the last time she’d seen him.

And he still looked so incredibly strong. She had almost convinced herself that she’d only thought he was because she herself had been feeling so wobbly and weak at the time. But now she knew better.

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said abruptly, the words coming out in a rush.

She took another quick, steadying breath to be sure her voice would come out normally.

“And I didn’t know the project coordinator would be you. Although I suppose I should have,” she added honestly.

Only after she’d spoken did the implication of his first words sink in. I didn’t know you would be here. Meaning what? That if he had, he wouldn’t have come? Would have made them send someone else? Had she embarrassed him that much, made him feel so awkward he would actually let it get in the way of his work? The thought made her so hideously self-conscious that she scrambled to fill the silence.

“I wanted to tell you—the project coordinator, I mean, that the school is really wonderful. You did an excellent job planning the modernization.”

He blinked once, his brows furrowed slightly, then he seemed to relax. So he had felt awkward, she thought. No doubt he was glad she’d brought up something so…safe.

“Keeping your family with you is one of the perks of working for Redstone.”

“So I’ve been told,” she said. Phil had never wanted to avail himself of that option.

But she also knew from the staff—whenever they weren’t talking about the problems brewing in nearby Arethusa—that the staff housing and the school were directly overseen by the coordinator. “But I know the coordinator made several changes and additions to the school plans, and they’ve worked out very well for the children.”

His mouth quirked at one corner. “I figured the indoor plumbing would be a hit.”

Paige blushed, wondering if he was inwardly laughing at her. Perhaps he always had been. Poor, new widow, throwing herself at the first man who tried to comfort her. Maybe that’s all she was to him, a slightly embarrassing, mostly pitiful memory. She couldn’t blame him for that. It’s how she thought of herself back then, too. But she was stronger now. Much stronger. He’d no longer find much trace of the wobbly, uncertain woman she’d been in those days after Phil’s death.

“I had more in mind the computer center,” she said, making her voice match her more determined thoughts. “The kids are already using it, even ones who’ve never seen a computer before.”

One dark brow lowered, as if at the new intonation in her words. “I’m glad to hear that. There was some…discussion over the extra construction it took for the wiring.”

She read between the lines and said, “Thank you for fighting for it, then.”

He shrugged. “Wasn’t much of a fight. They knew if it got all the way to Josh, he’d approve it.” His forehead creased. “Is your son with you?”

“Yes and no,” Paige said wryly, then regretted the words. Her problems with Kyle weren’t something she wanted to discuss, least of all with this man.

“Does that mean he’s here physically but not mentally?”

“Exactly,” she said, surprised he’d gotten her meaning so quickly. “He’s not happy with me for making him leave L.A.”

Rider scanned the lovely vista before them, inviting pathways through gently waving palm trees, stretching down to a pristine white beach.

“One man’s paradise is another man’s hell,” he said softly.

He’d surprised her again. “And L.A. was this mother’s hell,” she said, her voice rather sharp. “Kyle was headed for serious trouble, and I was not going to let it happen.”

His gaze snapped back to her. “He never came around? After he found out…?”

He paused, clearly uncomfortable. She’d been so focused on the stupid things she’d done, she’d forgotten Rider had met Kyle, however briefly, in the days he’d been with her after the crash. And that his concern had stretched to both of them. Perhaps if she’d been more aware of that, she would have seen that he’d merely been being kind, not sending an invitation to the widow.

And suddenly she knew she couldn’t go on like this. If she were to get through the time he would be here, she couldn’t handle the strain of either trying to dodge him or feeling this horrible knot in her stomach every time she saw him. Not on top of dealing with Kyle and keeping up with her students.

She bit her lip, not knowing how to say it, then finally just blurted it out. “Could we talk?”

His brows furrowed for a split second, in what she thought was a flinch. “Is that talk with a capital T?”

The woman she’d once been might have given up. Might have ignored the elephant in the kitchen, hoping it would magically vanish, as she had done with too much else. The woman she was trying to be would not.

“Let’s just say—” she looked around at the people who had exited the meeting and were now milling about, some glancing their way “—that I don’t want to do it here.”

“Paige, is this necessary?”

She hadn’t really considered that this might be as distasteful to him as to her. He’d probably managed to forget all about that night, until he’d walked into that meeting and seen her, the painful reminder.

It would be better for both of them, she thought. She was sure of that. “It’s necessary for me,” she insisted.

He let out an audible breath. “All right. I’ve got meetings the rest of the day. What about dinner?”

She frowned; that sounded too much like a social occasion, and while this wasn’t really business—except the unfinished, personal kind—she didn’t feel comfortable with the implications of a formal dinner engagement.

“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly when she didn’t answer. “I should have realized you wouldn’t want to do that. Later this evening then?”

“Fine,” she said, wondering why he suddenly sounded so odd.

He appeared to be thinking for a moment. “The overlook?”

The deck built out over the steepest slope down to the beach would most likely be private enough. And convenient, she thought sourly, if she decided to jump off.

“Fine,” she repeated. “You just got here, do you know where it is?”

“Theoretically, from the plans. I need to check it out in person, anyway.”

He sounded more natural now, but still stiffer than before. Dreading this, she assumed. “It won’t take long,” she assured him. “Eight?”

“Fine.” He echoed her acceptance.

“All right.” She became suddenly aware that several of the people from the meeting were still lingering, and she realized they must be waiting for him. “I’d better go. People are waiting to speak to you, I think.”

“Seems to be my lot in life today,” he muttered.

She winced inwardly, but said nothing as she turned and hurried back toward her bungalow. After tonight it would truly be over. She would deliver her long-overdue apology, he would hopefully accept it when he understood she was as embarrassed as he, and they could both put that night behind them.

“I’m going with you.”

“No,” Paige said firmly. “You’re not.”

Kyle eyed her stubbornly from beneath the old, dirty baseball cap he still insisted on wearing backward despite the brilliant flood of sunlight here. The two earrings that pierced his left earlobe glinted, one gold, one silver and black. The second was a rather grim representation of a skull she hated but hadn’t made an issue of, for fear it would make him determined to keep wearing it whether he really wanted to or not.

“Why not?”

“To start with, you weren’t asked. Mr. Rider and I have things to talk about.”

“You’re going to talk about Dad, aren’t you? So I want to go. He knew him. I want to ask him some things.”

“We have school business to talk about.” That much was true; she did want to give him at least a brief report on the school and the students’ progress. “Besides, he didn’t know your father well at all.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he said so. Mr. Rider only met him briefly a couple of times.”

“Then why did they send him, after he died?”

She’d wondered that on more than one occasion herself. Wondered what would have happened—or not happened—if they’d sent someone else.

“I don’t know. Perhaps I’ll ask him.”

She gathered up the lightweight blue shawl to toss over her shoulders; the breeze had been picking up at night lately, and while it was hardly cold, it could be cool on bare arms. At the door she paused and looked back at her son.

“Don’t forget you’ve got that history assignment, and the next chapter of Beowulf to read.”

She thought he swore under his breath, but wasn’t sure enough to call him on it. “Bad enough to have to go to school, but living with the teacher sucks.”

“You’ve been living with a teacher all your life,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, but you weren’t my teacher.”

She gave him a long, steady look. “I tried to be,” she said. “About the things that really count, at least.”

He turned and walked away, into his bedroom, without a word. He’d taken to doing that recently, walking away from any discussion he didn’t want to have. She was going to have to call him on that soon, convince him that running away from the unpleasant didn’t work. She was certainly living proof of that.

As she walked toward the lookout, she rehearsed in her mind yet again what she would say. There was no easy way to apologize for having so embarrassed them both, and having thought about how she would do it countless times hadn’t helped.

How did you apologize for something like that? The man had been there as a representative of her husband’s company, he’d been doing his job, nothing more. They’d been kind enough to send him to see if she was all right or needed anything they could provide. Her emotional state had been so very tangled and fragile, and she had clung to him. And he had let her, comforting her, giving her his strong arm to lean on and broad shoulder to cry on. He’d helped her through the ugly process, even made the arrangements to have Phil’s remains shipped home on one of Redstone’s own planes.

For nearly two weeks he’d been there to help. And then, one night after a nasty emotional outburst from the grieving Kyle, a night when she’d felt more alone than she ever had before, she’d leaned on his strength once more. He’d held her, soothed her…but when she’d looked up into his eyes she’d thought she’d seen something more, something warm and hungry.

She’d responded to that look, imagined or not, with a speed and urgency that had astounded her even as it was happening. The next thing she knew she was kissing him. Hotly, deeply, in a way that made her blush at the memory even now, five years later. And the fact that he kissed her back, the fact that after a few moments his strong hands had begun to caress her, to rouse in her startling sensations that made her shiver, didn’t ameliorate her own responsibility for what had happened.

And what might have happened, had Kyle not just then slammed back into the house, fortunately through the kitchen door, giving them time to recover before he walked in on them. If she thought he was angry with her now, she could only imagine how he might have felt had he seen his mother kissing another man before his father’s body was even home, let alone buried.

Of course, Kyle didn’t know what she knew. At least she’d managed to keep that from him. It hadn’t been an easy choice, but it was the only one she could make. Her son had already been in agony. She couldn’t risk any further damage.

Rider was there, waiting for her. She stopped a distance away, looking at him silhouetted against the fading light. He was leaning forward, hands braced on the railing, staring out at the sea. The light breeze caught his shirt and swirled it. He’d changed into casual clothes, she saw. Khaki pants, it looked like, and a Hawaiian-style shirt in muted colors. Navy-blue and tan, the same shade as the khakis, she thought. And realized with a little jolt she’d never seen him, this man who had taken up permanent residence in her memory, in anything other than a suit. Until now.

He seemed to sense her presence and turned. She started up the last few steps and walked out onto the deck. Just say it and get it over with, she told herself. Just apologize. Just do it.

Instead, when she reached him she found herself asking inanely, “So, does it meet your standards?”

There was a second before he answered, and she wondered if she’d startled him, if he’d been expecting her to plunge right into the emotional depths. Since that had been her plan, she couldn’t blame him; it wasn’t his fault that she’d chickened out at the last second.

“It’s solid. Well built, good materials.”

She couldn’t help the half laugh that escaped her. “Most people would be raving about the view.”

He shrugged. “It takes advantage of it.”

She sighed. “I suppose when you’ve seen views all over the world, it takes more to impress you.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “You must have seen a place or two.”

“Nope. Never been out of California, until now.”

His puzzlement shifted to a frown. “But your husband traveled extensively.”

“Yes. Alone.” Maybe, she added bitterly to herself.

“You never went with him?”

“No. With Kyle so young, I preferred it that way.” Not that he would have wanted me along, anyway.

“And now you’ve traveled halfway around the world.”

“I had no choice.”

He looked at her for a long, silent moment. “So you gave up your life to move your son. That’s quite a sacrifice.”

Her eyes widened. “Not many would see coming here as a sacrifice.”

“Sacrifice is in the reasons not the setting,” he said.

She considered what he said. “That’s rather profound.”

He only shrugged. For a moment the only sound was the rustle of the palm fronds and the more distant sound of the surf from below. It was time, she told herself. Time to get it done. She opened her mouth to speak, to at last say she was sorry.

“Okay, let’s get it over with,” he said, before she’d gotten a word out. “I’m sorry. It should never have happened.”

She gaped at him as he spoke the words she’d opened her own mouth to say.

“What?” she finally managed.

“I’m apologizing, all right?” He nearly snapped it out. “It’s been eating at me for five years, so I’m apologizing. I took advantage. I’m a jerk and a slime and an idiot, and all the rotten things you’ve probably been calling me all this time.”

She stared at him. “That,” she barely managed to squeak out, “is what I’ve been calling myself for the past five years.”

Chapter 3

Paige felt utterly bewildered. But there could be no doubt—he’d said it so adamantly. The man she’d wanted to apologize to for so long was instead apologizing to her.

She heard an odd little chiming sound.

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “Excuse me,” he said to her; she wasn’t sure if it was for the curse or the interruption. He reached into a shirt pocket that had looked empty and pulled out the smallest cell phone she’d ever seen. He pushed a button and said sharply, “Rider.”

He listened for a moment, his mouth tightening. Finally he advised the caller he would be down in a few minutes, and disconnected. He slipped the tiny phone back into the upper pocket.

“Bad news?” she asked.

“Minor problem. I’ll deal with it after…we’re finished here.”

That brought her back sharply to the realization that had so startled her. “Noah, I can’t believe you’re apologizing to me after what I did! I’m the one who jumped all over you, when all you were trying to do was be helpful.”

“Helpful?” Both dark brows shot up. “Is that what you thought?”

“I know you were just trying to comfort me, and then I—”

“I knew you were vulnerable, I knew you were confused, and I let it happen, anyway.” He grimaced but went on flatly. “It was my fault. I was supposed to take care of you, not…” His voice trailed off as he shook his head in obvious disgust.

“But I started it,” she protested.

“You weren’t thinking straight. Under the circumstances you can hardly be blamed.”

“But you can?” she asked, steadier now.

“I hadn’t just been through an emotional meat grinder. Yes, I can be blamed all right.”

Paige felt as if her world had tilted slightly on its axis. She’d worked up to this, had planned it for the day she might see him again, had even considered making it happen, even if she had to call Redstone and make an appointment. Only to find now that he had felt the same way. And suddenly she realized the reason he’d looked so odd when he’d suggested dinner and she’d reacted negatively—when he’d said he should have known she wouldn’t want to do that, he’d been thinking she wouldn’t want to have dinner with a man who had, in his view, treated her so badly.

If you only knew, she thought. On her scale of being treated badly, that kiss didn’t even make the top million.

“You’re right about one thing, though,” he said after a moment. “This should have been done long ago. I owed you that much.”

“I owed you a lot more. I don’t think I’d have gotten through that time if you hadn’t been there.”

His mouth twisted. “Nice to know I didn’t completely fall down on the job.”

That reminded her. “Tell me something, will you? Why did they send you back then? Why not somebody from, I don’t know, personnel, maybe?”

He shrugged. “I’d just been in Portugal a few weeks before. I knew some people, people I could call if there were any problems with…arrangements. But there weren’t, really. They were as horrified as the rest of the world, more so since the plane had gone down in their country. They went out of their way to help.”

As simple as that. As simply as that a practical choice was made, and her life was changed forever.

Paige drew in a deep breath of the night air, savored the scent of the night-blooming flowers that had been carefully planted around the grounds. Some sweet, some spicy, it was the kind of perfume that would never be matched by the hand of man in a laboratory.

Somehow the knowledge that he had felt nearly as bad as she enabled her to finish what she’d come here to do.

“If we’re going to work together while you’re here, we have to put this behind us,” she began. “We can’t both go on feeling guilty about it.”

“Wanna bet?”

The words were negative, but his tone was much lighter, and Paige nearly smiled. “Can we forget about it and go on?”

“Forget that I took advantage of you?”

“You didn’t, but I’ll allow you that if you accept I was the initiator and a willing participant.”

He closed his eyes, as if her words had caused him pain. After a moment he opened them again. “I suppose it’s going to be impossible to do what we have to do here if we can’t get past it.”

“It will be for me,” she admitted.

“So we both made mistakes, now we go on?”

“Right.”

He turned to look back out over the calm, warm sea. She heard him take a couple of deep breaths.

“All right. We start over,” he said finally.

“Hello, Noah Rider. I’m Paige Cooper,” she answered.

He turned back to her then. An odd expression was on his face, and an odder half smile curved his mouth. That mouth she’d spent five years trying to forget.

“Hello, Paige Cooper,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”

Rider walked down the long hallway to the administrative offices of the hotel. He’d kept Barry waiting longer than he’d wanted to, but he’d had to finish with Paige.

Finish with Paige.

That was something he’d been hoping for for five years now. To conclude what had felt like unfinished business. Or at the least, unatoned-for business. So why didn’t he feel relieved, now that the air had been cleared, apologies—however unexpected hers had been—made, and an agreement reached that they would forget and move on?

Forget. Right. Not likely. He had thought it would be over now. That after he’d apologized to her, she would have forgiven him, and they could have gone on, comfortable in the knowledge that they would rarely, if ever, see each other again once he left here. It should have been easy.

But it wasn’t. Not a damned thing had changed. Except now she was right here, within reach.

So now what? He was supposed to just smile and walk around cheerfully as if it had never happened? Pretend he’d never met her before this day, that she hadn’t been a warm, taunting image in the back of his mind since even before the night he’d made himself walk away from her?

His cell phone rang again.

“Rider.”

“Sir?” The voice was tentative. “This is Miranda Mayfield, in tech services? I know it’s after hours, but you did say to let you know when the test data on the standby generators was finished.”

“Relax, Miranda. There’s no such thing as after hours for me while I’m here. Drop it off in my temporary office, will you? Then go home.”

“Thanks, Mr. Rider.”

He slipped the phone back in his pocket just as he reached Barry Rutherford’s office. The door was open, and the man was still at his desk. Out of courtesy Rider tapped on the doorjamb rather than just striding in. He might out-rank the man in the general scheme of things, but Redstone Bay was Rutherford’s bailiwick, and would be long after Rider was gone.

“So what’s that bad news?”

“I just hung up with Bohio’s family,” Barry said. “What I’d feared is true. He’s not coming back.”

“Because?”

“Sadly, that emergency he left for was the death of his brother.”

Rider frowned. “Did you tell him we’d hold the job for him, as long as he needed?”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t able to speak to him directly. He’s no longer there.”

Rider studied the older man’s face for a moment. “Do I need to sit down for this?”

“As you wish. It’s not pretty, but not unusual of late. Bohio’s brother was in the army. He was killed in a skirmish with the rebel forces on Arethusa. Bohio has decided he must help the army hunt down those responsible.”

Rider’s mouth twisted. In all his travels he’d more than once been close to a restless part of the world. He hadn’t liked it then and he didn’t now. He dealt with it when he had to, but that didn’t mean he enjoyed it.

“And he’s already gone?” he asked.

Barry nodded.

So, no chance to try to talk him out of it. Not that he could have, but it would have been nice to try. But he could understand—intellectually, anyway, because he’d never had to face such a decision himself—that Bohio had felt he had to do this.

“See if the family needs anything,” he told Barry.

“I will. As for his job, we’ll need somebody fairly soon to replace him.”

Rider gave the man a wry smile. “You’re a master of understatement, Barry. I’m sure Redstone has someone they could send out temporarily. But first, are there any possibilities already here?”

Barry frowned. “You mean, someone who could take over? No one with his training and credentials.”

“What about any bright lights? Somebody who’s shown some knowledge or initiative?”

Barry thought for a moment. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then shut it again.

“What?” Rider asked.

The man shook his head. “No, he’s too young.”

“Who?”

“Elan Kiskeya. A local. He’s been helping Bohio, so he knows the systems, and he’s got a knack for mechanical things, but…”

“Does he have the drive?”

“He’s always asking for more to do, but he’s only twenty-four.”

“I was twenty-six when Josh Redstone gave me a shot at your position on the San Juan Islands project,” Rider said. “I’d never done anything that big before. I worked harder than I ever had in my life, to prove I could do it.”

It had also been nerve-racking as hell, San Juan being Redstone’s first resort venture. But now it was a cornerstone of the resort end of the business, and Rider knew it was why he was where he was today.

“He would have to learn a great deal very quickly,” Barry warned.

“Is there a good staff in place? I haven’t gotten to that part of the report yet.”

Barry nodded. “Very good. Bohio picked good people. Including Kiskeya. Do you wish to talk to him?”

“Let’s bring him in tomorrow so we can discuss it. But it’s going to affect you the most, since you may have to help him along, so the final decision is yours. If you don’t think he can cut it, we’ll send for help.”

Barry looked a bit relieved. “All right.”

Rider smiled. “Steamrollering people from the top isn’t the Redstone style.”

The man chuckled. “Did I look that worried?”

“Just a little.”

“I’ll have Kiskeya come in first thing in the morning, if that works for you?”

“Sooner the better. He’s going to need all the time he can get. And let’s hope we don’t lose anybody else.”

On his way back to the small suite set aside for visiting Redstone personnel, Rider’s thoughts played back those moments in the dining room meeting when he’d seen Paige, doubted his own eyes, then seen her name undeniably written before him. But it still hadn’t quite sunk in until he’d caught up with her outside. But there, with her hair a fiery beacon in the setting tropical sun, he was sure. She looked just as he remembered so vividly. She’d been standing with her arms drawn in tightly, as if she’d been as shaken as he by the unexpected encounter. And when she’d begun to chatter about the improvements to the schoolhouse, as if desperate for any diversion, he’d been sure of it. She was as rattled as he was.

He should be fine now, he argued to himself as he closed the suite door behind him. They’d talked it out, it was over, time to move on. He still felt utterly responsible for what had happened that night—he supposed there were worse things than kissing and pawing a distraught widow, though it was surely one of the worst things he’d ever done—but was at least relieved to know that she didn’t hate him or blame him.

He pulled off his shirt and tossed it over the back of a chair. He should be exhausted; his day had become a marathon. But instead he felt strangely wired. He kicked off his shoes, then looked at the stocked minibar consideringly. He was more inclined to put on his running shoes and go out for a late-night jog. But he decided against it; his memory for plans and layouts was good, and there was nearly a full moon, but he’d only physically been here once before, and inadvertently running off a cliff wasn’t his idea of a good way to end a day that had already been trying enough.

He resorted to pouring a small amount of Amaretto into a glass, then wandered out onto the lanai. From here he could just see the overlook, where he and Paige had stood. He sat down on the edge of one of the chaises, then gave in to the lure, swung his legs up and leaned back. He had a lot to do in the next few days, but for now, just for now…

He woke up in the same place the next morning feeling more rested than he had in days. He wondered if it was the balmy outdoor air, the Amaretto or the simple fact that a large load had been removed from his conscience.

This island, Paige thought as she walked along the immaculate beach, watching the lap of tiny waves on the sand and the break of larger swells far beyond on the reef, had never seemed so small before. You’d think in nearly a thousand acres—and when you spent half your day in a single room with twenty-six kids—you wouldn’t run into one person quite so often. But she seemed to have run into Noah Rider quite a bit in the past two days. True, it was a weekend, and once she’d graded some essays and corrected some math papers she’d had the rest of Saturday and now all of Sunday free to wander, but she’d never seen any one person as often and in as many places as she’d seen him.

So maybe it was just that he was everywhere. Anywhere there was a problem he showed up. And from what she’d heard from other staff, he managed it without stepping on any toes or coming off as the big cheese so many had expected.

Paige wasn’t surprised at that. Not after the gentle, kind way he’d dealt with her in her time of need. Tact was something he clearly had in abundance. She supposed it was a requirement to reach the level he had.

And she had to admit that the times she had seen him hadn’t been difficult, if you didn’t count her own silly anticipation anxiety. He was acting just as she would have wished, treating her just like everyone else.

And if she didn’t completely like that, it was her problem. She could not—would not—make it his, too.

She glimpsed some activity down the beach, a gathering of people and a small boat in the water. She headed that way, curious. She knew at this late date, so close to the scheduled opening, there was no such thing as a weekend off, so whatever it was had to be related to the resort. She was still about fifty feet away when she heard the sound of a motor, and the people gathered began to back away from the boat. She saw a flash of bright colors, red, blue and yellow, and it was a moment before she realized what it was.

And then it became obvious as the colors billowed up into an arc of fabric that then soared into the air. Parasailing, she thought, and in that instant the passenger, attached by lines that seemed too insubstantial to her unpracticed eye, soared upward.

It was Noah.

She stared, certain she must have seen wrong, but she knew deep down she hadn’t. She couldn’t mistake his size, his solid build, and the economy of movement that had been one of the first things she’d ever noticed about him.

But why on earth? Surely this wasn’t required of him. Did he really carry his oversight so far as to risk his neck trying out the recreational offerings? He had to be hundreds of feet up by now.

Although she had to admit, as she came up to the group of spectators, it did look exciting. Very. It looked, in fact, awfully close to flying, and she wondered if it felt like that, too.

She noticed Miranda among the watchers, and the woman smiled and walked over to her.

“My boy can’t wait to try that.”

Paige grimaced. “I’m sure Kyle will want to do it, too. In fact, I’m surprised he’s not here.”

“I saw him earlier, talking to Lani over by the pool.”

Paige smiled. “Well, that should keep him happy for a while.”

She knew Kyle was taken with the exotically lovely island girl whose family had lived here for generations. Her mother had died at Lani DeSouza’s birth, but her father had been there for her all her life, and Paige knew the girl loved him dearly. That father had also been the local population’s representative at the time Redstone had bought the island a decade ago. He had been a persuasive voice then, and, she’d heard, a shrewd bargainer. And a wise one. The people all agreed, because so far Joshua Redstone had kept every promise he’d made, including a school that would accept every child on the island.

And Lani was as clever as her father. She was a pleasure to have in class, absorbing every bit of knowledge Paige provided her with an eagerness that made Paige regret the years she’d been away from teaching, although she knew students like Lani were rare. She was secretly delighted that Kyle was interested in the bright, sweet-natured girl. Of course he was far too young to be serious, but Lani couldn’t help but be a good influence on him. She hoped he would follow the girl’s lead; Lani could hardly wait until this summer, when she hoped to work as one of the many personal assistants, or PAs that Redstone hired to help all their guests with any and everything, from scuba diving the reef to nature hikes to finding a book in the small but well-stocked library.

“Now there’s a man,” Miranda said as the boat maneuvered to bring its airborne passenger back to the beach, “to keep a woman happy.”

Paige nearly blushed, then silently called herself an idiot—from now on he worked for the same company she did, that’s all, she told herself.

“Mr. Rider?” she asked, trying for an innocent tone.

“I sure didn’t mean ol’ Rudy,” Miranda said with a grin, nodding toward the round, bald, very tanned head of the executive chef.

Paige giggled in spite of herself. “I don’t know. He’s kind of cute, in a grandfatherly sort of way.”

“Well, he does make a mean fricassee, I’ll give him that,” Miranda said.

Paige knew Rudy Aubert had been at a large five-star hotel for years, but had jumped at the chance to oversee this smaller but no less exclusive operation. And, judging by his tan, he was soaking up island life in a big hurry.

Unlike herself, she thought, always checking that she wasn’t inadvertently exposing unscreened skin to the sun that was so deadly for her fair complexion. On this lovely day she wore leggings and a long-sleeved, gauzy blouse. Even then she’d had to put sunscreen on, knowing she could burn through the fabric if she spent too much time—for her that meant anything over half an hour—out in the sun.

“So, how long have you known him?”

Paige blinked. “Mr. Rider?” Miranda gave her a look that reminded her of the way she sometimes looked at Kyle when he didn’t—or refused to—see the obvious.

“Oh.” She glanced over to where Rider was now safely ashore and getting out of the harness. He was grinning widely and then he laughed, clearly exhilarated. She turned back to Miranda and said carefully, “What makes you think I’ve ever met him before he got here?”

The look was even worse this time. “Oh, maybe because he about swallowed his tie when he spotted you in the staff meeting. And you couldn’t wait to get out of there.”

She considered lying, but it seemed pointless, and she didn’t want to lie to this woman who was becoming a friend. There had been more than enough lies in her life.

“I knew him from…a bad time in my life. Redstone sent him to help when my husband was killed.”

Instantly contrite, Miranda put her hand on Paige’s arm. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s all right. It was a long time ago. And it was only that I didn’t expect to ever see him again. I was…startled, that’s all.”

Miranda patted her arm comfortingly. “Still, I’m sorry. But, my, he’d be enough to wake up any breathing woman. So tell me, why does he only go by Rider?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he just doesn’t like Noah.”

She liked the name, and that’s how she thought of him, but now she wondered why she persisted, when he’d asked everyone else to call him Rider. Maybe because he hadn’t asked her to call him that. And her mind skittered away from figuring out the motivation behind that particular choice.

As if satisfied that Paige wasn’t really a source of details on the man in question, Miranda gave up on the subject. They chatted for a couple of minutes about how her two children were doing in class, and then the woman excused herself to go find said kids and stop them from whatever trouble she knew they were up to.

Paige watched her go, feeling oddly wistful. Once she’d said similar things, said them in that same light teasing tone, knowing it was just that, teasing, and that there was little chance her sweet boy would really be in any kind of trouble.

Now there was every chance, every day, and what she’d thought would help—extricating him from the environment that had had him skating on the edge of real problems—only seemed to have made it worse. He was angrier than ever, and it showed no signs of abating. Most days she could barely get a civil word out of him.

“Paige?”

Her breath caught at the unexpected sound of his voice so close behind her. She took a half second to steady herself before she turned around. He was wearing jeans and a blue T-shirt with the Redstone logo, and she was startled at how the casual clothes suited him even better than the executive look. He looked windblown and exhilarated, his blue eyes brighter than ever.

“Have fun?” she asked.

He grinned. “It was great. Want to try?”

She glanced toward the water again, saw that somebody else was taking a turn now. The urge was there, but so was a little tingle of fear. She looked back at Rider. “I don’t know,” she began.

“I saw you watching. You looked like you were wondering how it felt.”

“You saw me from up there?” she said, not quite believing him.

He reached out, touched her hair with his fingertips. “You stand out.”

In an instant the air between them seemed charged. She held her breath, afraid to move. He drew his hand back, looking at it in surprise, as if he hadn’t even realized what he was doing. He curled his fingers to his palm, and shoved on the sunglasses he’d been holding in his other hand.

“Come on,” he said. “Catch a ride before they wrap it up for the day.”

She looked at the current flyer, who suddenly looked much higher than before. She wanted to try it, but a bit of shiver down her spine stopped her from immediately jumping at the chance. “I’m not sure,” she said.

“You’ll love it. I promise.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Dinner. On me. Rudy has a new dish he wants to add to the menu.”

Dinner again, she thought. As neatly as that he’d put her in a corner. If she said no, he’d think she hadn’t forgiven him, that she wasn’t sticking to their agreement to put it behind them. And if she said yes…

If she said yes, she could end up marooned at a table with him, truly testing the strength of her resolve to not think about what had happened between them anymore.

So, you’d better love this little adventure then, she thought. “All right,” she said.

As she walked beside him down the beach, Paige had the strange but persistent feeling she’d done more than just say yes to a physical flight of fancy.

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