to fly back to Miami from Nassau tomorrow. She wasn’t ready. She wanted her three nights. “Like what?”
“That’s strictly need-to-know information.”
She bristled. “We’re a team. You said so.”
“And KCL is an information sieve.”
“I’m not part of the gossip mill. I never was.”
An employee came forward to anchor their ride, temporarily stilling her protest. Rand climbed off and waded toward shore. Tara followed, collected her beach bag and towel and stomped after him. He led her to the closest bar and bought a couple of bottles of water using his cruise ID/charge card/room key.
Glancing longingly at an unoccupied hammock as they passed, Tara followed him toward an empty pair of lounge chairs tucked beneath a shade tree. She dumped her stuff beside the chair and sat. Maybe she could nap in a hammock later. The ship wouldn’t sail until after tonight’s luau. They had hours left on the island. Unless Rand had a helicopter swoop in and take them home. She knew Everett had sometimes done that because she’d arranged the flights.
She accepted the bottle he offered. “Rand, how can I help you if you keep me out of the loop?”
He glanced pointedly at the guests in nearby chairs. “You can help by remembering this is a confidential investigation.”
His abrupt tone made her hackles rise. She gritted her teeth and sipped her water. Trust. It all went back to trust—or the lack thereof. She hadn’t earned his. Yet. But she would.
She set her water aside and dug a bottle of sunscreen out of her bag. She’d been good about slathering it on, but her fair skin could only handle so much sun and most of the excursion activities were held out in the open. The cloudless cerulean skies might be good for business, but not for her pale complexion. Rand, on the other hand, had already darkened several shades.
The urge to press herself against his warm, tanned skin gnawed at her. “I don’t suppose I can talk you in to hula lessons later?”
“If you insist.” No smile accompanied his words. The fun, playful guy had vanished. Rand set his water on the table between them and rose. He snatched the lotion bottle out of her hands and made a circular motion with one finger. Tara turned her back. A shiver she couldn’t suppress rippled over her in anticipation of his hands on her skin.
Rand straddled the chaise behind her. His legs flanked hers as they had on the Jet Ski, but this time without touching. She regretted the scant distance.
She heard the snick of the cap, smelled the coconut-scented sunscreen and then his hands settled on her shoulders. The lotion was cool, but his hands quickly warmed the cream and her as he slicked it over her back, arms and shoulders.
His fingers dipped beneath the edge of her bikini bottom just above her buttocks and her breath stalled then quickened. He dragged a finger along the elastic. “You’re burning here.”
Her breasts tightened and her core heated. She considered leaning back against his chest so he could reach her front, but the other sun-worshippers were too close. Instead, she gave in to the temptation to stroke his hot sun-baked, bare thighs. The wiry hairs tickled her palms and his muscles turned rock-hard beneath her hands.
He caught her wrists and returned her hands to her lap, then dropped the sunscreen bottle between her legs. Disappointment slid through her.
“You can do the rest.” His voice sounded huskier than usual.
She twisted to look at his face, but he rose and stalked back to his chair. He was always putting distance between them. However, the ridge in his trunks as he eased onto the lounger told her what she needed to know. Touching her hadn’t left him unaffected. Good.
She was tempted to suggest they return to the ship and the privacy of their cabin to try and alleviate their mutual hunger, but she’d seen a side of Rand today that she’d begun to fear had vanished forever. She was determined to lure the fun-loving man out again.
“Want me to do your back?” Her palms tingled in anticipation.
“No.” That hard, bitten-off response carried the sting of rejection, but she’d made too much progress in the past hour to give up so easily.
“I bet you know all the good hiding places on the island,” she prompted.
He gulped his water instead of replying.
“We could find one.”
She couldn’t see behind his glasses, but his sudden stillness, the flare of his nostrils and the thin white line forming around his mouth was hard to miss. “You’re the one who said we have a confidence issue with KCL employees. Getting caught banging my PA in the lighthouse won’t improve it.”
She flinched at the crude statement, but acknowledged he had a point. Her gaze shifted to the black-and-white diamond-patterned lighthouse looming over the island. Too bad. She would have liked a private tour of the tall structure … and anything else Rand had to offer behind the thick, sturdy walls.
Forcing her eyes back to Rand she decided to aim for a less sensitive subject. “It must have been fun having an island as a playground when you were growing up. Did you and Nadia and Mitch come here often?”
“It wasn’t a playground. When we came, we came to work.”
“Doing what?” Other than telling her he’d worked onboard several ships, he’d never given her details.
“Mitch worked watercraft. Jet Skis, parasailing. Nadia taught snorkeling and kayaking.”
She waited for him to expand. He didn’t. “What did you do?”
“Food prep. Trash detail. Maintenance. Dad always gave me the hottest, dirtiest jobs. The only time I had a job with tips was when I worked as a cabin steward. He liked the idea of me cleaning toilets.”
That didn’t sound like the Everett she’d known. “Why would he do that?”
“He said if I wanted to run KCL I needed to have an intimate knowledge of the underbelly. He did his best to make sure I got it.”
Rand’s bitterness brought a lump to her throat. “I’m sorry.”
His lips compressed even more. “I’m not. I understand my workforce the way few CEOs do. My father did his best to break me, but in the end he did me a favor.”
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