were opened to reveal an entire wall of sliding glass doors that led to a wide private terrace and showed off the spectacular view beyond of palm trees, sunshine, pristine white sand and clear, turquoise water.
It was one of the most beautiful sights Grace had ever seen and she stopped to admire it for several long seconds.
“Nice view, isn’t it?” Mr. Sutherland said.
“It’s stunning,” she said, and turned to look at him. “You’re so lucky.”
“Yeah, it’s good to be king,” he said, and flashed her a confident grin that made her knees go weak. She rubbed her stomach and wondered if maybe she should’ve had more to eat for breakfast than just granola and mango juice, because her knees had never gone weak before in her entire life.
But looking at him again, she realized she would just have to learn to live with rubbery knees. He was tall and imperious, she thought, with dark blue eyes that glimmered with cynicism. She hoped there was some glint of empathy underneath that cynicism.
He picked up the phone and when someone answered, he said, “Reschedule the conference call for four o’clock.” Then he hung up and stared at Grace. She knew she was in trouble but it didn’t stop her from enjoying the sight of those riveting blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. His jaw was firm and strong and he had a small cleft in his square chin. His nose was just slightly crooked, which gave him a raffish charm she found nonsensically alluring.
“Sit,” he said brusquely, indicating one of the plush chairs that faced the massive mahogany desk. She sat quickly, then noticed that he’d chosen to remain standing. The better to intimidate her, of course.
But that was fine. If these were to be her last few minutes on the Caribbean island, she would be perfectly happy to spend them staring at Mr. Sutherland. The man was stunningly handsome and muscular—not that she’d seen any of his actual muscles in person. Sadly, his impeccably tailored black suit covered his rugged frame completely. But Grace knew the man was built because of the way he’d so casually taken that heavy drink tray from her hands and lifted it up onto his shoulder so effortlessly.
Granted, before this trip to Alleria she hadn’t gotten out of her laboratory much, but she’d never seen anything quite like him. His arms and shoulder muscles had to be in remarkable condition. She itched to squeeze them.
And that was an absolutely ridiculous thought, she scolded herself.
“I’m going to go out on a limb here,” he said, interrupting her pleasant daydream, “and bet that you’ve never worked as a cocktail waitress before. Am I right?”
She took a deep breath or two as she considered lying to him, then changed her mind. She’d never been very good at prevarication. Still, it wouldn’t do to tell him everything. But then she argued with herself, Oh, why not? Finally she said, “Yes, you’re right, but—”
“That’s all I wanted to know,” he said pleasantly. “You’re fired.”
“No!” she cried, gripping the arms of her chair. “You can’t fire me. Not yet.”
“Not yet?” he repeated. “Why not? Because you haven’t had a chance to break my entire supply of glassware?”
Her shoulders sagged. “No, of course not. But…I can’t go home.”
His eyes focused in on her. “What’s your name?”
“It’s Grace. Grace Farrell.”
“Wait a minute.” He cocked his head as though he hadn’t heard her correctly. “Your name is Grace?”
She nodded gravely. “That’s right.”
“You’re kidding.” He chuckled, then leaned his hip against his desk and began to laugh, a deep rich sound that caused tingles to stir in her stomach.
What the heck was so funny about her name?
“Oh,” she said, finally getting the joke. The very lame joke, she might add. “Yes, well, I suppose I wasn’t very graceful out there.”
“You think?” He snorted.
She blinked and sat up straighter in her chair. “You don’t have to be rude.”
“Sweetheart, you’re the one who lied on your job application.”
“I didn’t—How did you know I lied?” She groaned inwardly. She couldn’t even lie about lying. That was just sad.
“Easy.” He folded his arms across his impressive chest in a move Grace knew was meant to daunt her. And it was working, sort of. She was more than a bit overwhelmed by him, if her inability to breathe was any indication.
“I don’t hire inexperienced waitresses,” he continued. “Since we did hire you, your application must’ve stated that you knew what you were doing. And you obviously don’t, which means you lied. And since you no longer work for me, I can be as rude as I want.”
“I hope you’ll reconsider,” she said, sniffing with annoyance at the logic of his argument. “I had a very good reason for lying—er, fudging the truth.”
“Fudging?” He leaned one hip against the edge of his desk. “I can’t wait to hear this.”
She frowned at him. “Are you willing to listen to reason?”
“I’m a reasonable man,” he said, waving his hand at her as if granting her permission to speak. “Just make it fast. I was on my way to making a very important phone call when I was interrupted by your little scene out there.”
“Oh, I’m really sorry about that.”
“Yeah, me, too. So?”
“Right. Well, it’s simple, really.” She took a quick moment to wish she was dressed in something more professional than a bikini top that revealed most of her breasts and a thin wisp of cloth that was knotted well below her belly button. But since she couldn’t exactly run back to her room and change clothes, she took another deep breath and blurted, “You have spores.”
He stared at her for a length of time, then shook his head. “No, I don’t. I bathe daily.”
She blinked, gasped, then laughed. “Oh, no, not you personally. Your island. There are rare spores growing here on Alleria that will save lives someday. I’m a research scientist and I’ve come here to collect and study them.”
He continued to stare her down as he seemed to consider the situation. She thought she saw something akin to a hint of reasoning in his eyes. But then he checked his watch and said, “Okay, nice try. I’ll expect you off the island within the hour.”
“What? No!” She jumped up from her chair. “Mr. Sutherland, you don’t understand. I refuse to leave this island. I need to stay here and work.”
He shook his head. “I’m afraid you’re the one who doesn’t understand, Ms. Farrell.”
“You’re wrong. I do understand,” she insisted, shaking her finger at him. “I know I lied and maybe you think you have every right to fire me, but
