Touching Paradise (12 page)

“Don’t let your bag get wet,” he said as he scooped her up. She held it over her head, and he easily ferried her onto the shore. His hands slid up her body when he set her down. “Sorry that I got your dress wet.”

“It’s fine. Um… what should I wear for dinner?”

“Dress comfortably. I’ll be at your hotel in an hour. In a car.” His eyes were reflective in the darkness. Eye shine, like a cat.
 

She thought about that as she walked through the cool, shifting sand. It was definitely real, no matter how dreamlike it felt.
 

By the time she reached the paved hotel sidewalk and turned around, Koenraad was gone, his boat nowhere to be seen. It was like she’d imagined the whole thing.

A little twisty feeling in her gut whispered that she’d never see him again. It was silly and unfounded, but as she walked through the bright lobby, she became more and more anxious. She didn’t have his phone number or even know his last name.

There was a new clerk working the desk, a dark-skinned man with an obviously dyed black handlebar mustache and a shiny cue ball of a head. He did a double take when he saw Monroe.
I’m on fire today,
she thought. Maybe it was the new tan.

“Are you Monroe?” he asked.
 

She nodded, repressing a smirk; so much for having become magically irresistible to all men.

“I have a message for you.” He handed her a folded note, her name on the front in Tara’s perfect handwriting. Inside, it said:
 

Been trying to call you all day. Maybe your phone fell into a coral reef. Everyone’s feeling better. Went to Club Carrib, dinner reservations at 9:00, having drinks first. Join us!

She shoved the note into her bag. “Where’s Club Carrib?”

The clerk came around the desk and walked out the front door. She assumed she was meant to follow, so she did. “See the orange building? One block beyond that. You can’t miss the sign.”

“Ok. Thanks.” She headed off the way he’d indicated, walking quickly. She would reassure everyone that she was ok—even though Tara hadn’t said she was worried, Monroe knew her friend well enough to read between the lines—and then get back, take a quick shower and change into something appropriate for dinner with Koenraad.

A little thrill ran down her back as she remembered him asking about her flight. It sounded like he wanted to spend the night and next morning with her. More Koenraad was definitely a good thing.

Despite the restaurant’s name, Club Carrib was about the tamest, quietest place she’d ever seen. Most of the diners were older couples, and little tea lights flickered on all the tables. She spotted her friends off in one corner.
 

Tara had said they were feeling better, but they seemed subdued. Monroe caught Tara’s eye and waved her over.

“Are you ok?” Monroe asked.

Tara shrugged. “Not much worse than lunch at Paco-Paco’s Taco Truck on a hot summer day. Of course that’s easy to say now, but this morning…” She shuddered. “Where were you? Some girl at Dive Happy Caribbean said you were off with a guy named Koenraad?” Tara let her raised eyebrows ask the rest of the questions.

“Yes, I met someone, and—”
 

“Whoa. Back up, girlie. Unless you finish that sentence with ‘I met someone who sold me a timeshare’ you’re going to have to go into a lot more detail.”

“I know I’m being antisocial again, but I only have a minute. He’s coming to get me for dinner. I promise I’ll make it up to you in New York.”

“Wait,” Tara said, grabbing Monroe’s arm even though she hadn’t started to walk away yet. “Who is he?”

“Really nice guy who rescued me when the boat broke down.”

Tara’s eyes went huge. “The boat broke down? Did it capsize? Were you shipwrecked?” Tara was speaking loudly, trying to draw attention. Now their other friends were looking over, curious as hell.

Monroe realized she’d never get away. Not until she divulged enough information to satisfy her best friend. She allowed Tara to lead her to the table.

“Guess who met a local hottie?” Tara asked the group.

Monroe sighed. So much for giving Tara a fast rundown and then making an escape. “Everyone feeling better?”

They nodded enthusiastically, but she suspected that was to spare Linda’s feelings. “We’re fine,” Nya said. Her fiancé held her hand in both his. “Who’s this hottie of yours?”

“Local guy with a boat.” Better to say boat than yacht. She shifted uncomfortably. She’d give up the details, or at least the non-shark details, later, but she didn’t want to go into her plans for the night. She didn’t want to talk about her love life with the guys listening, though probably they knew more about her dating misadventures than she would have liked.
 

Oh, screw it to hell.
“I’m going to have dinner with him,” she said. “And breakfast.”
 

Linda’s eyes went wide. “Look at you getting over Thomas so fast. Maybe, when we get back, you can meet Marco’s buddy who just moved to New York?”

Marco shifted uncomfortably.

Monroe shot Tara a dirty look and received an innocent shrug in return. Next time, Monroe was going to swear her to secrecy. She sighed. “Anyway, I need to change, but I wanted to check in.”

“Bring him here!” Linda said.

“Yes!” Tara insisted. Nya nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

“I… I’ll ask him.” Monroe stood, gave her friends quick hugs, then hurried back to the hotel.
 

When she walked in, the clerk waved her over. “Monroe?”

“Still Monroe,” she said, smiling.

He handed her another note. Frowning, she opened it.
Work problem came up. Have to cancel dinner. I’m really sorry. I’ll come by tomorrow around 9ish and see if you want to have breakfast. Leave me a note if you go out and I’ll find you. Love, Koenraad.

It felt like someone had dumped icy water over her head. He’d canceled. Seemed like a running theme in her life.

She couldn’t be angry at him. After all, she’d monopolized his day. Still, it sucked. And it hurt, though it shouldn’t. She blamed Thomas for the raw, vulnerable edges.
 

Numbly, she thanked the clerk and took the elevator to her room, which had been cleaned in her absence.
 

After a hot shower, she ordered room service because she didn’t feel much like showing up to dinner and explaining why she was alone. Again.

Only after she finished eating did she check her cell phone.
 

There were three emails from Thomas.

Her heart in her mouth, she read the first one.
What? Where is this coming from? Can you talk?

Nervously, she opened the second one.
Please don’t do this, Monroe. I’m really sorry that you had to go to the wedding alone. When I said I’d make it up to you, I meant it. How was the wedding anyway? I bet Linda and Mark made a beautiful couple.

“His name is Marco,” she said through clenched teeth and moved to the third email.
You are too special to lose. I’ve been soul-searching all day, and you’re right. I screwed up. This is 100% my fault, and I’m going to fix it. If you don’t want to talk to me right now, I understand. I don’t want to ruin your vacation. We’ll talk when you get back.

She read the email over and over, conflicting feelings brewing inside her. Thomas wasn’t the kind of man to apologize at all, let alone so profusely. She’d never heard him express anything like what he was saying in this email. Was that a sign that he meant every word or that his ego was bruised? He must have meant it, though. What would be the point of begging her to reconsider if he wasn’t willing to change the things that had upset her in the first place?

She flopped back onto the bed. How could she even consider getting back together with him? Tara had given him a failing grade and Monroe hadn’t missed him at all.

Plus she’d already slept with someone else. Without protection.

“I am such a slut,” she said, giggling. Boring women didn’t sleep with hot guys while on vacation.
 

Poor Thomas. Too little, too late.

She read the emails again. Funny how he’d shown more caring since she’d said she was through with him than he’d demonstrated in a typical month of dates. If only Thomas could be more… well, like Koenraad, actually.

Chapter 12

Koenraad paced in his kitchen, waiting for Darius to call back. He considered himself fairly reasonable, but the bad turn his evening had taken was making him want to rip something apart.

When he’d gotten back on the boat, there was a message from Darius saying to call back immediately. He did, and Darius said he’d need Koenraad overnight. Then he’d said he would call back and hung up abruptly.

Going back to the hotel and leaving a note for Monroe had made Koenraad feel awful. It was funny… all the women he’d canceled on, run out on, and this was the only time it had bothered him.
 

He’d caught Monroe’s intoxicating scent—mixed with his—and followed her to the restaurant, but he had decided against interrupting. The note was his only alternative, but it was less than ideal.

When he took her out for breakfast, he planned to suggest she stay a few extra days. She’d said she had the vacation time, and he was happy to buy her a new ticket, first class and with no layovers. But she might say no. Even though he knew she’d felt their connection, she didn’t strike him as the kind of woman to change her plans for a man she barely knew.

He wasn’t on the boat for five minutes before Darius called again. There were problems off the coast of Bonaire, and Wardell had disappeared several days earlier. Darius thought he must have fallen off the wagon.

Wardell’s wife, who probably hadn’t shifted shark in three decades, finally convinced Darius that something was wrong, and he’d reluctantly sent three dolphins to investigate. They had returned around the time that Koenraad and Monroe were discussing dinner plans. The dolphins had reported no trace of Wardell, but there was something wrong with the water around the island.

Koenraad immediately knew it was the
sick
, that strange sensation that had scrambled his senses, and he told Darius everything he knew, which wasn’t much. Darius didn’t say what they were both thinking: the
sick
had contaminated the open ocean between Tureygua and Bonaire. That was a staggeringly large amount of water.

Koenraad leaned against the counter and stared at his empty kitchen. He wondered what Monroe was doing. He hoped she’d gone back to the restaurant to eat with her friends.
 

The phone rang, and he jumped on it.
 

“They’re in comas,” Darius said, his gruff voice laced with anger.

“Who is?” Koenraad asked.

“Bria, Taylor and Hera.”

The dolphins?
“Since when?”

“It might be something they ate, or it could be whatever was in the water. They weren’t feeling well and went to lie down in my back room. I went to ask Hera a question and found her unresponsive. The doctor says he can’t explain it.” Darius fell silent, letting the bad news sink in. “I hate to ask you to do this, but I need you to go investigate Wardell’s territory. Victoria will join you.”

Koenraad balled his hand into a fist. “I would work better on my own.”

“Better, maybe, but not faster. She was in the area and she agreed to help.”

What the fuck was she doing in the area? But, damn. “You’d better find someone new to partner with her.”
 

“I’m working on that. I want you over there by dawn at the latest. And Koenraad? Be careful.”

Koenraad slammed down his phone and walked toward the rear of the house.
Dawn?
It would take him several hours to get to Curaçao, but he could have taken Monroe to dinner. Frustration unfurled in his chest.

He stared outside at the ocean. A nice swim should make him feel better.

But the ocean wasn’t safe. And to think that he’d started the day worrying about one leaky old boat.

He stripped down and walked outside, jumped into his pool and floated on his back. Looking up at the stars and feeling weightless usually took the edge off, but not this time. Victoria had that effect on him.

She was sneaky and mean. And since he was one of the few young, single, and wealthy shark shifters in the area, she assumed that they were meant to be together. He would never get over what had happened to Brady, and he’d been relieved when Victoria moved to Brazil. It wasn’t far enough because he still crossed paths with her a few times a year, and each instance was like a knife in the gut.

Relaxing wasn’t happening. Not here.

He heaved himself out of the pool and headed back inside, water dripping off him, only stopping to grab his discarded clothing and his keys.

He’d take his nap on one of his yachts. Not just any boat either. There was one particular bed he wanted: the one Monroe had been in. He would sleep well there, surrounded by the exhilarating yet soothing scent of the woman who had made such a strong impression on him.

He woke an hour later, still in a foul mood. After quickly fueling up, he set course for the rendezvous point, which Darius had texted. With a little luck, Victoria would be there already. Maybe she would have gotten to work. As much as he disliked her, he couldn’t fault her work ethic. She was stubborn like that. Just look at all the different ways she’d tried to get her hooks into him.

The sooner they started, the sooner he could get back to Monroe.

Still, when he saw a boat was already waiting, he only felt dread. As he pulled closer, a slender but curvy figure stepped onto the deck, hands on hips. The wind blew her dark hair around her body, making her look like a model at a photo shoot.

He came up close, but not too close. He didn’t want her deciding to board his boat.
 

“Why so far away, Koenraad?” she called out, the edges of her voice curling with laughter. It sounded real, but he knew it was fake, just like everything else about her.

“Let’s get this over with,” he said. “What have you found out?”

“You used to be a lot more fun.”