The Boss’s Baby Bargain

When resort developer Cameron McNeill goes undercover to root out problems at his prized island property, his first discovery is the irresistible concierge, Maresa Delphine. Her business smarts are vital to his mission. But the struggling single mom could help with his personal mission, too: fulfilling the marriage terms of his grandfather’s will.

Maresa is overwhelmed caring for her infant niece and tending to the demands of the resort’s sexy mystery guest. When he reveals himself as the owner, she’s thrown for a loop. But when he proposes...can she resist his brand of trouble in paradise?

“Maresa.”

Her name on his lips was a warning. A chance to change her mind.

She understood that she was pushing a boundary. Recognized that he’d just drawn a line in the sand.

“I didn’t mind giving up my dream job in Paris to care for Rafe and help my mother recover,” she confided, giving him absolutely no context for her comment and hoping he understood what she was saying. “And I will gladly give eighteen years to raise my niece as my own daughter.” She’d known it without question the moment Jaden had handed her Isla. “But I’m not sure I can sacrifice the chance to have this kiss.”

She’d crossed the boundary. Straight into “certifiable” territory. She must have cried out all her good sense.

His blue eyes simmered with more heat than a St. Thomas summer. He cupped her chin, cradling her face like she was something precious.

“If I thought you wouldn’t regret it tomorrow, I’d give you all the kisses you could handle.”

* * *

His Accidental Heir is part of Mills & Boon Desire’s No.1 bestselling series, Billionaires and Babies: Powerful men...wrapped around their babies’ little fingers.

His Accidental Heir

Joanne Rock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Four-time RITA® Award nominee JOANNE ROCK has penned over seventy stories for Mills & Boon. An optimist by nature and a perpetual seeker of silver linings, Joanne finds romance fits her life outlook perfectly—love is worth fighting for. A former Golden Heart® Award recipient, she has won numerous awards for her stories. Learn more about Joanne’s imaginative Muse by visiting her website, www.joannerock.com, or following @joannerock6 on Twitter.

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For Barbara Jean Thomas,

an early mentor and role model of hard work.

Thank you, Barbara, for teaching me the value of

keeping my chin up and having faith in myself.

During my teens, you were so much more than a boss...

You were a friend, a cheerleader and a sometimes mom

on those weekend trips with the crew. I’ll never forget

my visit to New York to see Oprah, courtesy of you!

Much love to you, always.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Extract

Copyright

One

“Rafe, I need you in the Antilles Suite today.” Maresa Delphine handed her younger brother a gallon jug of bubble bath. “I have a guest checking in who needs a hot bath on arrival, but he isn’t sure what time he’ll get here.”

Her twenty-one-year-old sibling—who’d recently suffered a traumatic brain injury in a car accident—didn’t reach to take the jug. Instead, his hazel eyes tracked the movements of a friendly barmaid currently serving a guest a Blackbeard’s Revenge specialty drink on the patio just outside the lobby. The Carib Grand Hotel’s floor-to-ceiling windows allowed for views of the tiki bar on Barefoot Beach and the glittering Caribbean Sea beyond. Inside the hotel, the afternoon activity had picked up since Maresa’s mad dash to the island’s sundries shop for the bath products. All of her runners had been busy fulfilling other duties for guests, so she’d made the trip herself. She had no idea what her newest runner—her recovering brother who still needed to work in a monitored environment—had been doing at that hour. He hadn’t answered his radio and he needed to get with the program if he wanted to remain employed. Not to mention, Maria might be blamed for his slipups. She was supporting her family, and couldn’t afford to lose her job as concierge for this exclusive hotel on a private island off Saint Thomas.

And she really, really needed him to remain employed where she could watch over him. Where he was eligible for better insurance benefits that could give him the long-term follow-up care he would need for years. She knew she held Rafe to a higher standard so that no one on staff could view his employment as a conflict of interest. Sure, the hotel director had approved his application, but she had promised to carefully supervise her brother during his three-month trial period.

“Rafe.” She gently nudged her sibling with the heavy container of rose-scented bubbles, remembering his counselor’s advice about helping him stay on task when he got distracted. “I have some croissants from the bakery to share with you on your next break. But for now, I really need help. Can you please take this to the Antilles Suite? I’d like you to turn on the hot water and add this for a bubble bath as soon as I text you.”

Their demanding guest could stride through the lobby doors any moment. Mr. Holmes had phoned this morning, unsure of his arrival time, but insistent on having a hot bath waiting for him. That was just the first item on a long list of requests.

She checked her slim watch, a gift from her last employer, the Parisian hotel where she’d had the job of her dreams. As much as Maresa loved her former position, she couldn’t keep it after her mother’s car accident that had caused Rafe’s head injury almost a year ago. Going forward, her place was here in Charlotte Amalie to help with her brother.

She refused to let him fail at the Carib Grand Hotel. Her mother’s poor health meant she couldn’t supervise him at home, for one thing. So having him work close to Maresa all day was ideal.

“I’ll go to the Antilles Suite.” Rafe tucked the bubble bath under one arm and continued to study the barmaid, a sweet girl named Nancy who’d been really kind to him when Maresa introduced them. “You will call me on the phone when I need to turn on the water.”

Maresa touched Rafe’s cheek to capture his full attention, her fingers grazing the jagged scar that wrapped beneath his left ear. Her mother had suffered an MS flare-up behind the wheel one night last year, sending her car into a telephone pole during a moment of temporary paralysis. Rafe had gone through the windshield since his seatbelt was unbuckled; he’d been trying to retrieve his phone that had slid into the backseat. Afterward, Maresa had been deeply involved in his recovery and care since their mother had been battling her own health issues. Their father had always been useless, a deadbeat American businessman who worked in the cruise industry and used to visit often, wooing Maresa’s mother with promises about coming to live with him in Wisconsin when he saved up enough money to bring them. That had never happened, and he’d checked out on them by the time Maresa was ten, moving to Europe for his job. Yet then, as now, Maresa didn’t mind adapting her life to help Rafe. Her brother’s injuries could have been fatal that day. Instead, he was a happy part of her world. Yes, he would forever cope with bouts of confusion, memory loss and irritability along with the learning disabilities the accident had brought with it. Throughout it all, though, Rafe was always... Rafe. The brother she adored. He’d been her biggest supporter after her former fiancé broke things off with her a week before their wedding two years ago, encouraging her to go to Paris and “be my superstar.”

He was there for her then, after that humiliating experience. She would be there for him now.

“Rafe? Go to the Antilles Suite and I’ll text you when it’s time to turn on the hot water.” She repeated the instructions for him now, knowing it would be kinder to transfer him to the maintenance team or landscaping staff where he could do the same kinds of things every day. But who would watch out for him there? “Be sure to add the bubbles. Okay?”

Drawing in a breath, she took comfort from the soothing scent of white tuberoses and orchids in the arrangement on her granite podium.

“A bubble bath.” Rafe grinned, his eyes clearing. “Can do.” He ambled off toward the elevator, whistling.

Her relief lasted only a moment because just then a limousine pulled up in front of the hotel. She had a clear view out the windows overlooking the horseshoe driveway flanked by fountains and thick banks of birds-of-paradise. The doormen moved as a coordinated team toward the vehicle, prepared to open doors and handle baggage.

She straightened the orchid pinned on her pale blue linen jacket. If this was Mr. Holmes, she needed to stall him to give Rafe time to run that bath. The guest had been curt to the point of rudeness on the phone, requiring a suite with real grass—and it had to be ryegrass only—for his Maltese to relieve himself. The guest had also ordered a dog walker with three years’ worth of references and a groomer on-site, fresh lilacs in the room daily and specialty pies flown in from a shop in rural upstate New York for his bedtime snack each evening.

And that was just for starters. She couldn’t wait to see what he needed once he settled in for his two-week stay. These were the kinds of guests that could make or break a career. The vocal kind with many precise needs. All of which she would fulfill. It was the job she’d chosen because she took pride in her organizational skills, continually reordering her world throughout a chaotic childhood with an absentee father and a chronically ill mother. She took comfort in structuring what she could. And since there were only so many jobs on the island that could afford to pay her the kind of money she needed to support both her mother and her brother, Maresa had to succeed at the Carib Grand.

She calmed herself by squaring the single sheet of paper on her podium, lining up her pen beside it. She tapped open her list of restaurant phone numbers on her call screen so she could dial reservations at a moment’s notice. The small, routine movements helped her to feel in control, reminding her she could do this job well. When she looked up again—

Wow.

The sight of the tall, chiseled male unfolding himself from the limousine was enough to take her breath away. His strong, striking features practically called for a feminine hand to caress them. Fraternizing with guests was, of course, strictly against the rules and Maresa had never been tempted. But if ever she had an inkling to stray from that philosophy, the powerful shoulders encased in expensive designer silk were exactly the sort of attribute that would intrigue her. The man towered over everyone in the courtyard entrance, including Big Bill, the head doorman. Dressed in a charcoal suit tailored to his long, athletic frame, the dark-haired guest buttoned his jacket, hiding too much of the hard, muscled chest that she’d glimpsed as he’d stepped out of the vehicle. Straightening his tie, he peered through the window, his ice-blue gaze somehow landing on her.

Direct hit.

She felt the jolt of awareness right through the glass. This supremely masculine specimen couldn’t possibly be Mr. Holmes. Her brain didn’t reconcile the image of a man with that square jaw and sharp blade of a nose ordering lilacs for himself. Daily.

Relaxing a fraction, Maresa blew out a breath as the newcomer turned back toward the vehicle. Until a silky white Maltese dog stepped regally from the limousine into the man’s waiting arms.

* * *

In theory, Cameron McNeill liked dogs.

Big, slobbery working canines that thrived outdoors and could keep up with him on a distance run. The long-haired Maltese in his arms, on the other hand, was a prize-winning show animal with too many travel accessories to count. The retired purebred was on loan to Cam for his undercover assessment of a recently acquired McNeill Resorts property, however, and he needed Poppy’s cooperation for his stint as a demanding hotel guest. If he walked into the financially floundering Carib Grand Hotel as himself—an owner and vice president of McNeill Resorts—he would receive the most attentive service imaginable and learn absolutely nothing about the establishment’s underlying problems. But as Mr. Holmes, first-class pain in the ass, Cam would put the staff on their toes and see how they reacted.

After reviewing the Carib Grand’s performance reports for the past two months, Cameron knew something was off in the day-to-day operations. And since he’d personally recommended that the company buy the property in the first place, he wasn’t willing to wait for an overpriced operations review by an outside agency. Not that McNeill Resorts couldn’t afford it. It simply chafed his pride that he’d missed something in his initial research. Besides, his family had just learned of a long-hidden branch of relations living on a nearby island—his father’s sons by a secret mistress. Cam would use his time here to check out the other McNeills personally.

But for now? Business first.

“Welcome to the Carib Grand,” an aging doorman greeted him with a deferential nod and a friendly smile.

Cam forced a frown onto his face to keep from smiling back. That wasn’t as hard as he thought given the way Poppy’s foolishly long fur was plastering itself to his jacket when he walked too fast, her topknot and tail bobbing with his stride and tickling his chin. It wouldn’t come naturally to Cam to be the hard-to-please guest this week. He was a people-person to begin with, and appreciated those who worked for McNeill Resorts especially. But this was the fastest way he knew to find out what was going on at the hotel firsthand. He’d be damned if anyone on the board questioned his business acumen during a time when his aging grandfather was testing all his heirs for their commitment to his legacy.

The Carib Grand lobby was welcoming, as he recalled from his tour six months ago when the property had been briefly shut down. The two wings of the hotel flanked the reception area to either side with restaurants stacked overhead. But the lobby itself drew visitors in with floor-to-ceiling windows so the sparkling Caribbean beckoned at all times. Huge hanging baskets of exotic flowers framed the view without impeding it.

The scent of bougainvillea drifted in through the door behind him. Poppy tilted her nose in the air and took a seat on his forearm, a queen on her throne.

The front desk attendant—only one—was busy with another guest. Cameron’s bellhop, a young guy with a long ponytail of dreadlocks, must have noticed the front desk was busy at the same time as him, because he gestured to the concierge’s tall granite counter where a stunning brunette smiled.

“Ms. Delphine can help you check in, sir,” the bellhop informed him while whisking his luggage onto a waiting cart. “Would you like me to walk the dog while you get settled?”

Nothing would please him more than to off-load Poppy and the miles of snow-white pet hair threading around his suit buttons. Cameron was pretty sure there was a cloud of fur floating just beneath his nose.

“Her name is Poppy,” Cameron snapped at the helpful soul, unable to take his eyes off the very appealing concierge, who’d snagged his attention through the window the second he’d stepped out of the limo. “And I’ve requested a dog walker with references.”

The bellhop gave a nod and backed away, no doubt glad to leave a surly guest in the hands of the bronze-skinned beauty sidling out from her counter to welcome Cameron. She seemed to have that mix of ethnicities common in the Caribbean. The burnished tint of her skin set off wide, tawny gold eyes. A natural curl and kink in her dusky brown hair ended in sun-blond tips. Perfect posture and a well-fitted linen suit made her look every inch a professional, yet her long legs drew his eye even though her skirt hit just above her knees. Even if he’d been visiting the property as her boss, he wouldn’t have acted on the flash of attraction, of course. But it was a damn shame that he’d be at odds with this enticing female for the next two weeks. The concierge position was the linchpin in the hotel staff, though, and his mission to rattle cages began with her.

“Welcome, Mr. Holmes.” He was impressed that she’d greeted him by name. “I’m Maresa. We’re so glad to see you and Poppy, too.”

He’d spoken to a Maresa Delphine on the phone earlier, purposely issuing a string of demands on short notice to see how she’d fare. She didn’t look nervous. Yet. He’d need to challenge her, to prod at all facets of the management and staff to pinpoint the weak links. The hotel wasn’t necessarily losing money, but it was only a matter of time before earnings followed the decline in performance reviews.

“Poppy will be glad to meet her walker.” He came straight to the point, ignoring the eager bob of the dog’s head as Maresa offered admiring words to the pooch. Cameron could imagine what the wag of the tail was doing to the back of his jacket. “Do you have the references ready?”

“Of course.” Maresa straightened with a sunny smile. She had a hint of an accent he couldn’t place. “They’re right here at my desk.”

Cameron’s gaze dipped to her slim hips as she turned. He’d taken a hiatus from dating for fun over the last few months, thinking he ought to find himself a wife to fulfill his grandfather’s dictate that McNeill Resorts would only go to the grandsons who were stable and wed. But he’d botched that, too, impulsively issuing a marriage proposal to the first woman his matchmaker suggested in order to have the business settled.

Now? Apparently the months without sex were conspiring against him. He ground his teeth against a surge of ill-timed desire.

“Here you go.” The concierge turned with a sheet of paper in hand and passed it to him, her honey-colored gaze as potent as any caress. “I took the liberty of checking all the references myself, but I’ve included the numbers in case you’d like to talk to any of them directly.”

“That’s why I asked,” he replied tightly, tugging the paper harder than necessary.

He could have sworn Poppy slanted him a dirty look over one fluffy white shoulder. Her nails definitely flexed into his forearm right through the sleeve of his suit before she fixed her coal-black eyes on Maresa Delphine.

Not that he blamed Poppy. He’d rather be staring at Maresa than scowling over dog walker references. Being the boss wasn’t always a rocking-good time. Yet he’d rather ruffle feathers today and fix the core problems than have the staff jump though the hoops of an extended performance review.

Cameron slid the paper into his jacket pocket. “I’ll check these after I have the chance to clean up. If you can have someone show us to our room.”

He hurried her on purpose, curious if the room extras were ready to go. The bath wasn’t a tough request, but the flowers had most likely needed to be flown in. If he hadn’t been specifically looking for it, he might have missed the smallest hesitation on her part.

“Certainly.” She lifted a tablet from the granite countertop where she worked. “If you can just sign here to approve the information you provided over the phone, I’ll escort you myself.”

That wasn’t protocol. Did Ms. Delphine expect additional tips this way? Cam remembered reading that the concierge had been with the company since the reopening under McNeill ownership two months ago.

Signing his fake name on the electronic screen, he fished for information. “Are you understaffed?”

She ran a pair of keycards through the machine and slid them into a small welcome folder.

“Definitely not. We’ll have Rudolfo bring your bags. I just want to personally ensure the suite is to your liking.” She handed him the packet with the keys while giving a nod to the bell captain. “Can I make a dinner reservation for you this evening, Mr. Holmes?”

Cameron juggled the restless dog, who was no doubt more travel-weary than him. They’d taken a private jet, but even with the shorter air time, there’d been limo rides to and from airports, plus a boat crossing from Charlotte Amalie to the Carib Grand since the hotel occupied a small, private island just outside the harbor area in Saint Thomas. He’d walked the dog when they hit the ground at the airfield, but Poppy’s owner had cautioned him to give the animal a certain amount of rest and play each day. So far on Cam’s watch, Poppy had clocked zero time spent on both counts. For a pampered show dog, she was proving a trouper.

As soon as he banished the hotel staff including Maresa Delphine, he’d find a quiet spot on the beach where he and his borrowed pet could recharge.

“I’ve heard a retired chef from Paris opened a new restaurant in Martinique.” He would be spending some time on that island where his half brothers were living. “I’d like a standing reservation for the rest of the week.” He had no idea if he’d be able to get over there, but it was the kind of thing a good concierge could accommodate.

“I’ve heard La Belle Palm is fantastic.” Maresa punched a button on the guest elevator while Rudolfo disappeared down another hall with the luggage. “I haven’t visited yet, but I enjoyed Chef Pierre’s La Luce on the Left Bank.”

Her words brought to mind her résumé that he’d reviewed briefly before making the trip. She’d worked at a Paris hotel prior to accepting her current position.

“You’ve spent time in Paris, Ms. Delphine?” He set Poppy on the floor, unfurling the pink jeweled leash that had matched the carrying case Mrs. Trager had given him. He’d kept all the accessories except for that one—the huge pink pet carrier made Cam look like he was travelling with Barbie’s Dreamhouse under his arm.

“She’s so cute.” Maresa kept her eyes on the dog and not on him. “And yes, I lived in Paris for a year before returning to Saint Thomas.”

“You’re from the area originally?” He almost regretted setting the dog down since it removed a barrier between them. Something about Maresa Delphine drew him in.

His gaze settled on the bare arch of her neck just above her jacket collar. Her thick brown hair had been clipped at the nape, ending in a silky tail that curled along one shoulder. A single pearl drop earring rolled along the tender expanse of skin, a pale contrast to her rich brown complexion.

“I grew up in Charlotte Amalie and worked in a local hotel until a foreign exchange program run by the corporate owner afforded me the chance to work overseas.” She glanced up at him. Caught him staring.

The jolt of awareness flared, hot and unmistakable. He could tell she felt it, too. Her pupils dilated a fraction, dark pools with golden rims. His heartbeat slugged heavier. Harder.

He forced his gaze away as the elevator chimed to announce their arrival on his floor. “After you.”

He held the door as she stepped out into the short hall. They passed a uniformed attendant with a gallon-sized jug stuffed under his arm, a pair of earbuds half-in and half-out of his ears. After a quick glance at Maresa, the young man pulled the buds off and jammed them in his pocket, then shoved open a door to the stairwell.

“Here we are.” Maresa stepped aside so Cam stood directly in front of the entrance to the Antilles Suite.

Poppy took a seat and stared at the door expectantly.

Cameron used the keycard to unlock the suite, not sure what to expect. Was Maresa Delphine worthy of what the company compensated her? Or had she returned to her hometown in order to bilk guests out of extra tips and take advantage of her employer? But she didn’t appear to be looking for a bonus gratuity as her gaze darted around the suite interior and then landed on him.

Poppy spotted the patch of natural grass just outside the bathroom door. The sod rested inside a pallet on carpeted wheels, the cart painted in blues and tans to match the room’s decorating scheme. The dog made a break for it and Cam let her go, the leash dangling behind her.

Lilacs flanked the crystal decanters on the minibar. Through the open door to the bathroom, Cameron could see the bubbles nearing the edge of the tub, the hot water still running as steam wafted upward.

So far, Maresa had proven a worthy concierge. That was good for the hotel, but less favorable for him, perhaps, since her high standards surely precluded acting on a fleeting elevator attraction.

“If everything is to your satisfaction, Mr. Holmes, I’ll leave you undisturbed while I go make your dinner reservations for the week.” She hadn’t even allowed the door to close behind them, a wise practice, of course, for a female hotel employee.

Rudolfo was already in the hall with the luggage cart. Cameron could hear Maresa giving the bellhop instructions for his bags. And Poppy’s.

“Thank you.” Cameron turned his back on her to stare out at the view of the hotel’s private beach and the brilliant turquoise Caribbean Sea. “For now, I’m satisfied.”

The room, of course, was fine. Ms. Delphine had passed his first test. But was he satisfied? No. He wouldn’t rest until he knew why the guest reviews of the Carib Grand were lower than anticipated. And satisfaction was the last thing he was feeling when the most enticing woman he’d met in a long time was off-limits.

That attraction would be difficult to ignore when it was imperative he uncover all her secrets.

Two

As much as Maresa cursed her alarm clock chirping at her before dawn, she never regretted waking up early once she was on the Carib Grand’s private beach before sunrise. Her mother’s house was perched on a street high above Saint Thomas Harbor, which meant Maresa took a bike to the ferry each morning to get to the hotel property early for these two precious hours of alone time before work. Her brother was comfortable walking down to the dock later for his shift, a task that was overseen by a neighbor and fellow employee who also took the ferry over each day.

Now, rolling out her yoga mat on the damp sand, she made herself comfortable in child’s pose, letting the magic of the sea and the surf do their work on her muscles tight with stress.

One. Two. Three. Breathe.

Smoothing her hands over the soft cotton of her bright pink crop top, she felt her diaphragm lift and expand. She rarely saw anyone else on the beach at this hour, and the few runners or walkers who passed by were too busy soaking up the same quiet moments as she to pay her any mind.

Maresa counted through the inhales and exhales, trying her damnedest to let go of her worries. Too bad Cameron Holmes’s ice-blue eyes and sculpted features kept appearing in her mind, distracting her with memories of that electric current she’d experienced just looking at him.

It made no sense, she lectured herself as she swapped positions for her sun salutations. The guest was demanding and borderline rude—something that shouldn’t attract her in the slightest. She hated to think his raw masculinity was sliding under her radar despite what her brain knew about him.

At least she’d made it through the first day of his stay without incident. But while that was something to celebrate, she didn’t want her brother crossing paths with the surly guest again. She’d held her breath yesterday when the two passed one another in the corridor outside the Antilles Suite, knowing how much Rafe loved dogs. Thankfully, her brother had been engrossed in his music and hadn’t noticed the Maltese.

She’d keep Rafe safely away from Mr. Holmes for the next two weeks. Tilting her face to the soft glow of first light, she arched her back in the upward salute before sweeping down into a forward bend. Breathing out the challenges—living in tight quarters with her family, battling local agencies to get her brother into support programs he needed for his recovery, avoiding her former fiancé who’d texted her twice in the last twenty-four hours asking to see her—Maresa took comfort in this moment every day.

Shifting into her lunge as the sun peeked above the horizon, Maresa heard a dog bark before a small white ball of fluff careened past her toward the water. Startled by the sudden brush of fur against her arm, she had to reposition her hands to maintain her balance.

“Poppy.” A man’s voice sounded from somewhere in the woods behind the beach.

Cameron Holmes.

Maresa recognized the deep baritone, not by sound so much as by the effect it had on her. A slow, warm wave through the pit of her belly. What was the matter with her? She scrambled to her feet, realizing the pampered pet of her most difficult guest was charging into the Caribbean, happily chasing a tern.

“Poppy!” she called after the dog just as Cameron Holmes stepped onto the beach.

Shirtless.

She had to swallow hard before she lifted her fingers to her lips and whistled. The little Maltese stopped in the surf, peering back in search of the noise while the tern flew away up the shore. The ends of Poppy’s glossy coat floated on the surface of the incoming tide.

The man charged toward his pet, his bare feet leaving wet footprints in the sand. Maresa was grateful for the moment to indulge her curiosity about him without his seeing her. A pair of bright board shorts rode low on his hips. The fiery glow of sunrise burnished his skin to a deeper tan, his square shoulders rolling with an easy grace as he scooped the animal out of the water and into his arms. He spoke softly to her even as the strands of long, wet fur clung to his side. Whatever he said earned him a heartfelt lick on the cheek from the pooch, its white tail wagging slowly.

Maresa’s heart melted a little. Especially when she caught a glimpse of Cameron Holmes’s smile as he turned back toward her. For a moment, he looked like another man entirely.

Then, catching sight of her standing beside her yoga mat, his expression grew shuttered.

“Sorry to interrupt your morning.” He gave a brief nod. Curt. Dismissive. “I thought the beach would be empty at this hour or I wouldn’t have let her off the leash.” He clipped a length of pink leather to the collar around Poppy’s neck.

“Most days, I’m the only one down here at this time.” She forced a politeness she didn’t feel, especially when she wasn’t on duty yet. “Would you like a towel for her?”

The animal wasn’t shivering, but Maresa couldn’t imagine it would be easy to groom the dog if she walked home with wet fur dragging on the ground.

“I didn’t think to bring one with me.” He frowned, glancing around the deserted beach as if one might appear. “I assumed towels would be provided.”

She tried not to grind her teeth at the air of entitlement. It became far easier to ignore the appeal of his shirtless chest once he started speaking in that superior air.

“Towels are available when the beach cabana opens at eight.” Bending to retrieve the duffel on the corner of her mat, she tugged out hers and handed it to him. “Poppy can have mine.”

He hesitated.

She fought the urge to cram the terry cloth back in her bag and stomp off. But, of course, she couldn’t do that. She reached toward the pup’s neck and scratched her there instead. Poppy’s heart-shaped collar jangled softly against Maresa’s hand. She noticed the “If Found” name on the back.

Olivia Trager?

Maybe the animal belonged to a girlfriend.

“Thank you.” He took the hand towel and tucked it around the dog. Poppy stared out of her wrap as if used to being swaddled. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

He sounded more sincere this time. Maresa glanced up at him, only to realize how close they were standing. His gaze roamed over her as if he had been taking advantage of an unseen moment, the same way she had ogled him earlier. Becoming aware of her skimpy yoga crop top and the heat of awareness warming her skin, she stepped back awkwardly.

“Ms. Trager must really trust you with her dog.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Then again, maybe hearing about his girlfriend would stop these wayward thoughts about him. “That is, no wonder you want to take such good care of her.”

Awkward much? Maresa cursed herself for sticking her nose in his personal business.

His expression remained inscrutable for a moment. He studied her as if weighing how much to share. “My mother wouldn’t trust anyone but me with her dog,” he said finally.

She considered his words, still half wishing the mystery Ms. Trager was a girlfriend on her way to the resort today. Then Maresa would have to take a giant mental step backward from the confusing hotel guest. As it stood, she had no one to save her from the attraction but herself. With that in mind, she raked up her yoga mat and started rolling it.

“Well, I hope the dog walker and groomer meet your criteria.” She stuffed the mat in her duffel, wondering why he hadn’t let the walker take the animal out in the first place. “I’m happy to find someone else if—”

“The walker is fine. You’re doing an excellent job, Maresa.”

The unexpected praise caught her off guard. She nearly dropped her bag, mostly because he fixed her with his clear blue gaze. Heat rushed through her again, and it didn’t have anything to do with the sun bathing them in the morning light now that it was fully risen.

“Thank you.” Her throat went dry. She backed up a step. Retreating. “I’m going to let you enjoy the beach.”

Maresa turned toward the path through the thick undergrowth that led back to the hotel and nearly ran right into Jaden Torries, her ex-fiancé.

“Whoa!” Jaden’s one hand reached to steady her, his other curved protectively around a pink bundle he carried. Tall and rangy, her artist ex-boyfriend was thin where Cameron was well-muscled. The round glasses Jaden wore for affectation and not because he needed them were jammed into the thick curls that reached his shoulders. “Maresa. I’ve been trying to contact you.”

He released her, juggling his hold on the small pink parcel he carried. A parcel that wriggled?

“I’ve been busy.” She wanted to pivot away from the man who’d told the whole island he was dumping her before informing her of the fact. But that shifting pink blanket captured her full attention.

A tiny wrinkled hand reached up from the lightweight cotton, the movement followed by the softest sigh imaginable.

Her ex-fiancé was carrying a baby.

“But this is important, Maresa. It’s about Isla.” He lowered his arm cradling the infant so Maresa could see her better.

Indigo eyes blinked up at her. Short dark hair complimented the baby’s medium skin tone. A white cotton headband decorated with rosettes rested above barely there eyebrows. Perfectly formed tiny features were molded into a silent yawn, the tiny hands reaching heavenward as the baby shifted against Jaden.

Something shifted inside Maresa at the same time. A maternal urge she hadn’t known she possessed seized her insides and squeezed tight. Once upon a time she had dreamed about having this man’s babies. She’d imagined what they would look like. Now, he had sought her out to...taunt her with the life she’d missed out on?

The maternal urge hardened into resentment, but she’d be damned if she’d let him see it.

“Congratulations. Your daughter is lovely, Jaden.” She straightened as the large shadow of Cameron Holmes covered them both.

“Is there a problem, Ms. Delphine?” His tone was cool and impersonal, yet in that awkward moment he felt like an ally.

She appreciated his strong presence beside her when she felt that old surge of betrayal. She let Jaden answer since she didn’t feel any need to defend the ex who’d called off their wedding via a text message.

“There’s no problem. I’m an old friend of Maresa’s. Jaden Torries.” He extended his free hand to introduce himself.

Mr. Holmes ignored it. Poppy barked at Jaden.

“Then I’m sure you’ll respect Maresa’s wish to be on her way.” Her unlikely rescuer tucked his hand under one arm as easily as he’d plucked his pet from the water earlier.

The warmth of his skin made her want to curl into him just like Poppy had, too.

“Right.” Jaden dropped his hand. “Except Rafe’s old girlfriend, Trina, left town last night, Maresa. And since Trina’s my cousin, she stuck me with the job of delivering Rafe’s daughter into your care.”

Maresa’s feet froze to the spot. She had a vague sense of Cameron leaning closer to her, his hand suddenly at her back. Which was helpful, because she thought for a minute there was a very real chance she was going to faint. Her knees wobbled beneath her.

“Sorry to spring it on you like this,” Jaden continued. “I tried telling Trina she owed it to your family to tell you in person, and I thought I had her talked into it, but—”

“Rafe?” Maresa turned around slowly, needing to see with her own eyes if there was any chance Jaden was telling the truth. “Trina broke up with him almost a year ago. Right after the accident.”

Jaden stepped closer. “Right. And Trina didn’t even find out she was pregnant until a couple of weeks afterward, while Rafe was still in critical condition. Trina decided to go through with the pregnancy on her own. Isla was born the end of January.”

Maresa was too shaken to even do the math, but she did know that Trina and Rafe had been hot and heavy for the last month or two they were together. They’d been a constant fixture on Maresa’s social media feed for those weeks. Which had made it all the more upsetting when Trina bailed on him right after the accident, bursting into tears every time she got close to his bedside before giving up altogether. Had she been even more emotional because she’d been in the early stages of pregnancy?

“Why wouldn’t she have called me or my mother?” Her knees wobbled again as her gaze fell on the tiny infant. Isla? She had Rafe’s hairline—the curve of dark hair encroaching on the temples. But plenty of babies had that, didn’t they? “I would have helped her. I could have been there when the baby was born.”

“Who is Rafe?” Cameron asked.

She’d forgotten all about him.

Maresa gulped a breath. “My brother.” The very real possibility that Jaden was telling the truth threatened to level her. Rafe was in no position to be a father with the assorted symptoms he still battled. And financially? She was barely getting by supporting her family and paying some of Rafe’s staggering medical bills since he hadn’t been fully insured at the time.

“Look.” Jaden set a bright pink diaper bag down on the beach. Cartoon cats cartwheeled across the front. “My apartment is no place for a baby. You know that, right? I just took her because Trina showed up last night, begging me for help. I told her no, but told her she could spend the night. She took off while I was sleeping. But she left a note for you.” He looked as though he wanted to sort through the diaper bag to find it, but before he leaned down he held the baby out to Maresa. “Here. Take her.”

Maresa wasn’t even sure she’d made up her mind to do so when Jaden thrust the warm, precious weight into her arms. He was still talking about Trina seeming “unstable” ever since giving birth, but Maresa couldn’t follow his words with an infant in her arms. She felt stiff and awkward, but she was careful to support the squirming bundle, cradling the baby against her chest while Isla gurgled and kicked.

Maresa’s heart turned over. Melted.

Here, the junglelike landscaping blocked out the sun where the tree branches arced over the dirt path. The scent of green and growing things mingled with the sea breeze and a hint of baby shampoo.

“She’s a beauty,” Cameron observed over her shoulder. He had set Poppy on the ground so he could get closer to Isla and Maresa. “Are you okay holding her?”

“Fine,” she said automatically, not wanting to give her up. “Just...um...overwhelmed.”

Glancing up at him, she caught her breath at the expression on his face as he looked down at the child in her arms. She had thought he seemed different—kinder—toward Poppy. But that unguarded smile she’d seen for the Maltese was nothing compared to the warmth in his expression as he peered down at the baby.

If she didn’t know better—if she hadn’t seen him be rude and abrupt with perfectly nice hotel staffers—she would have guessed she caught him making silly faces at Isla. The little girl appeared thoroughly captivated.

“Here it is.” Jaden straightened, a piece of paper in his hand. “She left this for you along with some notes about the kid’s schedule.” He passed the papers to Cameron. “I’ve got to get going if I’m going to catch that ferry, Maresa. I only came out here because Trina gave me no choice, but I’ve got to get to work—”

“Seriously?” She had to work, too. But even as she was about to say as much, another voice in her head piped up. If Isla was really Rafe’s child, would she honestly want Jaden Torries in charge of the baby for another minute? The answer was a crystal clear absolutely not.

“Drop her off at social services if you don’t believe me.” Jaden shrugged. “I’ve got a rich old lady client paying a whole hell of a lot for me to paint her portrait at eight.” He checked his watch. “I’m outta here.”

And with that, her ex-fiancé walked away, his sandy-gold curls bouncing. Poppy barked again, clearly unimpressed.

Social services? Really?

“If only I had Poppy around three years ago when I got engaged to him,” she muttered darkly, hugging the baby tighter.

Cameron’s hand briefly found the small of her back as he watched the other man leave. He clutched the letter from Rafe’s former girlfriend—Isla’s mother.

“And yet you didn’t go through with the wedding. So you did just fine on your own.” Cameron glanced down at her, his hand lingering on her back for one heart-stopping moment before it drifted away again. “Want me to read the letter? Or would you like me to take Isla so you can do the honors?”

He held the paper out for her to decide.

She liked him better here—outside the hotel. He was less intimidating, for one thing.

For another? He was appealing to her in all the ways a man could. A dangerous feeling for her when she needed to be on her guard around him. He was a guest, for crying out loud. But she was out of her depth with this precious little girl in her arms and she didn’t know what she’d do if Cameron Holmes walked away from her right now. Having him there made her feel—if only for a moment—that she wasn’t totally alone.

“Actually, I’d be really grateful if you would read it.” She shook her head, tightening her hold on Isla. “I’m too nervous.”

Katrina—Trina—Blanchett had been Rafe’s girlfriend for about six months before the car accident. Maresa had never seen them together except for photos on social media of the two of them out playing on the beach or at the clubs. They’d seemed happy enough, but Rafe had told her on the phone it wasn’t serious. The night of the accident, in fact, the couple had gotten into an argument at a bar and Trina had stranded him there. Rafe had called their mother for a ride, something she’d been only too happy to provide even though it was late. She’d never had an MS attack while driving before.

Less than ten days after seeing Rafe in the hospital, Trina had told Maresa through tears that she couldn’t stand seeing him that way and it would be better for her to leave. At the time, Maresa had been too focused on Rafe’s prognosis to worry about his flighty girlfriend. If she’d taken more time to talk to the girl, might she have confided the pregnancy news that followed the breakup?

“Would you like to have a seat?” Cameron pointed toward a bench near the outdoor faucet where guests could rinse off their feet. “You look too pale.”

She nodded, certain she was pale. What was her mother going to say when she found out Rafe had a daughter? If he had a daughter. And Rafe? She couldn’t imagine how frustrated he would feel to have been left out of the whole experience. Then again, how frustrated would he feel knowing that he couldn’t care for his daughter the way he could have at one time?

Struggling to get her spinning thoughts under control, she allowed Cameron to guide her to the bench. Carefully, she lowered herself to sit with Isla, the baby blanket covering her lap since the kicking little girl had mostly freed herself of the swaddling. While she settled the baby, she noticed Cameron lift Poppy and towel her off a bit more before setting her down again. He double-checked the leash clip on her collar then took the seat beside Maresa.

“I’m ready,” she announced, needing to hear whatever Isla’s mother had to say.

Cameron unfolded the paper and read aloud. “‘Isla is Rafe’s daughter. I wasn’t with anyone else while we were together. I was afraid to tell him about her after the doctor said he’d be...’” Cameron hesitated for only a moment “‘...brain damaged. I know Rafe can’t take care of her, but his mother will love her, right? I can’t do this. I’m going to see my dad in Florida for a few weeks, but I’ll sign papers to give you custody. I’m sorry.”

Maresa listened to the silence following the words, her brain uncomprehending. How could the woman just take off and leave her baby—Rafe’s baby—with Jaden Torries while she traveled to Florida? Who did that? Trina wasn’t a kid—she was twenty-one when she’d dated Rafe. But she’d never had much family support, according to Rafe. Her mother was an alcoholic and her father had raised her, but he’d never paid her much attention.

A fierce surge of protectiveness swelled inside of Maresa. It was so strong she didn’t know where to put it all. But she knew for damn sure that she would protect little Isla—her niece—far better than the child’s mother had. And she would call a lawyer and find out how to file for full custody.

“You could order DNA testing,” Cameron observed, his impressive abs rippling as he leaned forward on the bench. “If you are concerned she’s not a biological relative.”

Maresa closed her eyes for a moment to banish all thoughts of male abs, no matter how much she welcomed the distraction from the monumental life shift taking place for her this morning.

“I’ll ask an attorney about it when I call to find out how I can secure legal custody.” She wrapped Isla’s foot back in a corner of the blanket. “For right now, I need to find suitable care for Isla before my shift at the Carib begins for the day.” Throat burning, Maresa realized she was near tears just thinking about the unfairness of it all. Not to her, of course, because she would make it work no matter what life threw at her.

But how unfair to Rafe, who wouldn’t be able to parent his child without massive amounts of help. Perhaps he wouldn’t be interested in parenting at all. Would he be angry? Would Trina’s surprise be the kind of thing that unsettled his confused mind and set back his recovery?

She would call his counselor before saying anything to him. That call would be right after she spoke to a lawyer. She wasn’t even ready to tell her mother yet. Analise Delphine’s health was fragile and stress could aggravate it. Maresa wanted to be sure she was calm before she spoke to her mother. They’d all been in the dark for months about Trina’s pregnancy. A few more hours wouldn’t matter one way or another.

“I noticed on the dog walker’s résumé that she has experience working in a day care.” Cameron folded the paper from Trina and inserted it into an exterior pocket of the diaper bag. “And as it happens, I already walked the dog. Would you like me to text her and ask her to meet you somewhere in the hotel to give you a hand?”

Maresa couldn’t imagine what that would cost. But what were her options since she didn’t want to upset her mother? She didn’t have time to return home and give the baby to her mother even if she was sure her mother could handle the shocking news.

“That would be a great help, thank you. The caregiver can meet me in the women’s locker room by the pool in twenty minutes.” Shooting to her feet, Maresa realized she’d imposed on Cameron Holmes’s kindness for far too long. “And with that, I’ll let you and Poppy get back to your morning walk.”

“I’ll go with you. I can carry the baby gear.” He reached for the pink diaper bag, but she beat him to it.

“I’m fine. I insist.” She pasted on her best concierge smile and tried not to think about how comforting it had felt to have him by her side this morning. Now more than ever, she needed job security, which meant she couldn’t let an important guest think she made a habit of bringing her personal life to work. “Enjoy your day, Mr. Holmes.”

* * *

Enjoying his day proved impossible with visions of Maresa Delphine’s pale face circling around Cameron’s head the rest of the morning. He worked at his laptop on the private terrace off his room, distracted as hell thinking about the beautiful, efficient concierge caught off guard by a surprise that would have damn near leveled anyone else.

She’d inherited her brother’s baby. A brother who, from the sounds of it, was not in any condition to care for his child himself.

Sunlight glinted off the sea and the sounds from the beach floated up to his balcony. The noises had grown throughout the morning from a few circling gulls to the handful of vacationing families that now populated the beach. The scent of coconut sunscreen and dense floral vegetation swirled on the breeze. But the temptation of a tropical paradise didn’t distract Cam from his work nearly as much as memories of his morning with Maresa.

Shocking encounter with the baby aside, he would still have been distracted just remembering her limber arched back, her beautiful curves outlined by the light of the rising sun when he’d first broken through the dense undergrowth to find her on the private beach. Her skimpy workout gear had skimmed her hips and breasts, still tantalizing the hell out of him when he was supposed to be researching the operations hierarchy of the Carib Grand on his laptop.

But then, all that misplaced attraction got funneled into protectiveness when he’d met her sketchy former fiancé. He’d met the type before—charming enough, but completely self-serving. The guy couldn’t have come up with a kinder way to inform her of her niece’s existence?

On the plus side, Cameron had located some search results about her brother. Rafe Delphine had worked at the hotel for one month in a hire that some might view as unethical given his relationship to Maresa. But his application—though light on work history—had been approved by the hotel director on-site, so the young man must be fit for the job despite his injury in a car wreck the year before. That, too, had been an easy internet search, with local news articles reporting the crash and a couple of updates on Rafe’s condition afterward. The trauma the guy had suffered must have been harrowing for his whole family. Clearly the girlfriend had found it too much to handle.

Now, as a runner for the concierge, Rafe would be directly under Maresa’s supervision. That concerned Cameron since Maresa would have every reason in the world to keep him employed. As much as Cam empathized with her situation—all the more now that she’d discovered her brother had an heir—he couldn’t afford to ignore good business practices. He’d have to speak to the hotel director about the situation and see if they should make a change.

The ex-fiancé was next on his list of searches. Not that he wanted to pry into Maresa’s private life. Cameron was more interested in seeing how the guy connected to the Carib Grand that he’d come all the way to the hotel’s private island to pass over the baby. That seemed like an unnecessary trip unless he was staying here or worked here. Why not just give the baby to Maresa at her home in Charlotte Amalie? Why come to her place of work when it was so far out of the way?

Cam had skimmed halfway through the short search results on Jaden Torries’s portraits of people and pets before his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Poppy, snoozing in the shade of the chair under his propped feet, didn’t even stir at the sound. The dog was definitely making up for lost rest from the day before.

Glimpsing his oldest brother’s private number, Cam hit the button to connect the call. “Talk to me.”

“Hello to you, too.” Quinn’s voice came through along with the sounds of Manhattan in the background—horns honking, brakes squealing, a shrill whistle and a few shouts above the hum of humanity indicating he must be on the street. “I wanted to give you a heads-up I just bought a sea plane.”

“Nice, bro, But there’s no way you’ll get clearance to land in the Hudson with that thing.” Cameron scrolled to a gallery of Torries’s work and was decidedly unimpressed.

Not that he was an expert. But as a supporter of the arts in Manhattan for all his adult life, he felt reasonably sure Maresa’s ex was a poser. Then again, maybe he just didn’t like a guy who’d once commanded the concierge’s attention.

“The aircraft isn’t for me,” Quinn informed him. “It’s for you. I figured it would be easier than a chopper to get from one island to another while you’re investigating the Carib Grand and checking out the relatives.”

Cam shoved aside his laptop and straightened. “Seriously? You bought a seaplane for my two-week stay?”

As a McNeill, he’d grown up with wealth, yes. He’d even expanded his holdings with the success of the gaming development company he’d started in college. But damn. He limited himself to spending within reason.

“The Carib Grand is the start of our Caribbean expansion, and if it goes well, we’ll be spending a lot of time and effort developing the McNeill brand in the islands and South America. We have a plane available in the Mediterranean. Why not keep something accessible on this side of the Atlantic?”

“Right.” Cam’s jaw flexed at the thought of how much was riding on smoothing things out at the Carib Grand. A poor bottom line wasn’t going to help the expansion program. “Good thinking.”

“Besides, I have the feeling we’ll be seeing our half brothers in Martinique a whole lot more now that Gramps is determined to bring them into the fold.” Quinn sounded as grim about that prospect as Cameron felt. “So the plane might be useful for all of us as we try to...contain the situation.”

Quinn wanted to keep their half siblings out of Manhattan and out of the family business as much as Cameron did. They’d worked too hard to hand over their company to people who’d never lifted a finger to grow McNeill Resorts.

“Ah.” Cam stood to stretch his legs, surprised to realize it was almost noon according to the slim dive watch he’d worn for his morning laps. “But since I’m on the front line meeting them, I’m going to leave it up to you or Ian to be the diplomatic peacemakers.”

Quinn only half smothered a laugh. “No one expected you of all people to be the diplomat. Dad’s still recovering from the punch you gave him last week when he dropped the I-have-another-family bombshell on us.”

Definitely not one of his finer moments. “It seemed like he could have broached the topic with some more tact.”

“No kidding. I kept waiting for Sofia to break the engagement after the latest family soap opera.” The background noise on Quinn’s call faded. “Look, Cam, I just arrived at Lincoln Center to take her out to lunch. I’ll text you the contact details for a local pilot.”

Cam grinned at the thought of his stodgy older brother so head over heels for his ballerina fiancée. The same ballerina fiancée Cam had impulsively proposed to last winter when a matchmaker set them up. But even if Cam and Sofia hadn’t worked out, the meeting had been a stroke of luck for Quinn, who’d promptly stepped in to woo the dancer.

“Thanks. And give our girl a kiss from me, okay?” It was too fun to resist needling Quinn. Especially since Cameron was two thousand miles away from a retaliatory beat-down.

A string of curses peppered his ear before Quinn growled, “It’s not too late to take the plane back.”

“Sorry.” Cameron wasn’t sorry. He was genuinely happy for his brother. “I’ll let you know if the faux McNeills are every bit as awful as we imagine.”

Disconnecting the call, Cameron texted a message to the dog groomer to give Poppy some primp time. He’d use that window of freedom to follow up on a few leads around the Carib Grand. He wanted to find out what the hotel director thought about Rafe Delphine, for one thing. The director was the only person on-site who knew Cameron’s true identity and mission at the hotel. Aldo Ricci had been successful at McNeill properties in the Mediterranean and Malcolm McNeill had personally appointed the guy to make the expansion program a success.

With the McNeill patriarch’s health so uncertain, Cameron wanted to respect his grandfather’s choices. All the more so since he still hadn’t married the way his granddad wanted.

Cameron would start by speaking to his grandfather’s personally chosen manager. Cam had a lot of questions about the day-to-day operations and a few key personnel. Most especially the hotel’s new concierge, who kept too many secrets behind her beautiful and efficient facade.

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