Читать книгу Rub It In - Kira Sinclair - Страница 9

WHIRRING, BANGING and the loud pa-pow of a nail gun reverberated through Simon’s skull. The construction crew had begun their noise at seven o’clock this morning. Three hours later it was getting worse, not better.

Normally, waking up that early wouldn’t have bothered him—he rarely slept past five anyway—but last night he’d stayed up until 2:00 a.m. reading through a stubborn scene.

He was bleary-eyed, tired and cranky. Not to mention that the mother of all headaches pounded relentlessly behind his eyes.

After a rather loud clamor that he could only assume meant someone had dropped an entire load of metal onto a hard surface, Simon jumped out of his chair and yelled, “Enough!” Not that they could hear him.

Surely they could work somewhere else on the island for a while and give him a break. A nap, that was all he needed to get back into the groove he’d found the other day. The fact that his mind kept returning to his conversation with Marcy when it should have been concentrating on the story in front of him had nothing to do with his foul mood.

Rubbing his hands over his face, trying to clear his cloudy vision, Simon headed for Marcy’s office.

Halfway down the hallway, Xavier, the new head of security Marcy had hired yesterday, walked out of the elevator.

“Oh, good,” he said, stepping back onto the car and holding open the door so Simon could join him. “I was just coming to see you. I’d like to sit down and discuss the existing security measures and evaluate any improvements I’d like to make.”

With a sigh, Simon closed his eyes for a moment before answering, “Our previous head of security was former CIA. Trust me when I say I can’t think of a single change you’d want or need to make. Zane was meticulous.”

“As am I,” Xavier answered with a smile on his lips but a hard glint in his dark brown eyes. “I’d still like to meet with you. Start out on the right foot, so to speak.”

“I’m pretty busy for the next few weeks. Can this wait until later?”

“Marcy mentioned the resort was closed and that a construction crew had been hired. I assume it would be more cost-effective to handle any adjustments while the crew is already here instead of having to bring them back.”

The throb that had set up residence behind Simon’s eyes increased in intensity. He realized Xavier had a valid point, but he really, really didn’t have the time or energy to deal with this right now. Saving money wasn’t always the most important objective. Something Marcy had a difficult time understanding.

It appeared that Xavier might reside in that camp, as well. Maybe putting them together was a good idea.

The elevator dinged their arrival on the lowest floor. The doors slid open silently and Simon reached to hold them back.

“I’m heading to Marcy’s office right now. Why don’t you follow me and discuss this with her?”

Xavier entered the long hallway, glancing back over his shoulder. “I would, but she said she no longer works here and that I’d need to deal directly with you.”

Simon stopped in his tracks. “What did you say?”

“Marcy said I should deal directly with you.”

“No, before that.”

“Marcy said she quit or you fired her. Or maybe it was both? I didn’t quite understand why she was still on the island, but I didn’t figure it was my business to ask.”

Simon knew exactly why she was still here. Because he wouldn’t let her leave. But he hadn’t thought she was serious about quitting. His threat of firing her had been a bluff. She’d known it, right? Why would he fire her and then continue to keep her prisoner here? It sort of defeated the purpose.

“Crap!” The single word exploded from Simon’s mouth.

Pushing past Xavier, he headed for the offices at a sprint.

“She isn’t there.”

Even before Simon skidded around the corner he knew Xavier was right and the office would be vacant. First, no light shone from the small space. Second, there was no noise. Every other time he’d ventured into Marcy’s territory—and he admitted exhausting all other options before giving in to that last resort—there was a flurry of activity. Phones ringing, keys being rhythmically tapped, printers whirring. Today there was nothing. The only sounds were from the construction crew outside.

A huge knot of dread tightened in the pit of his stomach. What had he done?

Backing out of her empty office, he almost barreled into Xavier, who was waiting in the hallway, his rather large arms crossed over his chest.

“Where is she?” he asked.

Xavier shrugged. “The last time I saw her she was by the pool.”

With a few strides Simon crossed the lobby and headed out the front door, Xavier a few steps behind him.

“Look, we’ll talk later. After I’ve straightened this out. In the meantime, why don’t you go unpack or something?” The man had just moved his entire life to their tiny island. Didn’t he have something better to do?

Raising his hands, Xavier backed away slowly. “I’ve already unpacked, but I suppose I can find something else to pass the time.”

Bright sunlight blinded Simon, spearing straight into his already gritty eyes and making him wish he’d stopped long enough to pick up his sunglasses. And some aspirin.

The construction noise was even louder without the barrier of walls to muffle it. It almost made him want to look at the six-foot-long list Marcy had plopped onto his desk, to figure out what the hell the crew could be working on. But that was the first step down a slippery slope. Looking at the list would lead to having an opinion about what they were doing, which would lead to getting involved and the entire project would become a distraction he didn’t need.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care what went on around the resort, but he couldn’t afford to take time away from his writing. Not if he wanted to keep his career from completely tanking.

By the time he rounded the corner into the pool complex he’d built up a healthy head of steam. Unfortunately, it didn’t stand a chance when faced with the vision of Marcy in one of the smallest bikinis he’d ever seen, stretched out on a lounge chair beside the pool.

He almost swallowed his tongue.

Where the hell had that body come from?

He had seen the woman every single day for the better part of two years. Simon knew that he would have remembered the firm swell of those breasts and the delicate flare of those hips if he’d ever seen them before.

He had the sudden urge to take every single power suit out of her closet and burn them all. They were doing her a grave disservice and he thought it might be his duty to men everywhere to rectify the situation.

Marcy was tiny. But she’d definitely taught him not to judge a book by its cover. That little body packed a punch … he just hadn’t realized the punch was aimed straight for his gut.

Simon couldn’t help himself; he had to look at her. As his eyes traveled up the length of her body the heavy weight of arousal settled at the base of his spine. With nothing more than a view of her gleaming skin, his cock turned semi-hard. It had been a long time since he’d been embarrassed by an erection—he did not like revisiting the sensation.

But this was Marcy.

And he was supposed to be upset with her.

“You’re blocking my light. Could you move?” The soft, lazy tone of her voice was so out of place that it honestly took him several seconds to realize Marcy was the one who’d spoken. Although it wasn’t as if there was anyone else around.

Clearing his throat, Simon managed to surreptitiously adjust his fly and desperately tried to dredge up the irritation he’d stomped out here with.

It was damn hard. Along with the rest of him. Especially when she turned to look at him, pulling down her dark tinted sunglasses just far enough to glare at him over the rims. She looked like a pissed-off pixie and he suddenly had the urge to kiss her until she forgot why she was angry.

He bit down onto the inside of his cheek, asking, “What are you doing?” instead.

“I’d think that would be obvious. Sunbathing.”

“Sunbathing,” he parroted like an idiot. As if the condescending tone of her voice hadn’t been bad enough. Shaking his head, and hopefully reawakening his brain, he said, “I mean, why are you out here and not in your office?”

“You fired me, remember?”

“I most certainly did not. I threatened to fire you. Big difference.”

“Great, well then, I quit.”

“You can’t.”

“Oh, I can.” With a wicked smile on her lips that he’d never seen before, Marcy pushed her glasses back up, pillowed her arms behind her head and leaned back against the lounge chair. The pose stretched her body, pushing the round swell of her breasts against the tiny squares of material covering them. Her stomach muscles pulled tight, drawing his gaze to the tempting little dimple of her belly button.

She was entirely too pleased with herself.

“What’s it going to take to get you back to work?”

“Nothing, but an apology never goes out of style. And now that I think about it, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you say those two little words before.”

That was because he really didn’t like them.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, the words tasting bitter in his mouth. But they were worth it. He’d tell her whatever she wanted to hear, just so long as it meant she’d start handling all the crap in his life so he could focus on his writing.

With a single finger she slid the glasses back down her nose and glared at him again. “That was pathetic, Simon.”

He was frustrated, exhausted and slightly sick to his stomach. “What do you want, Marcy?” he bellowed. “I’ll give you whatever you want. You have me by the balls—just name your price.”

“I don’t want your balls, Simon, and I never have.”

He reached down and pulled her up out of the chair. He had no idea what he intended to do—maybe march her back inside the building and handcuff her to her desk. Hell, it had worked for his friend and former head of security, Zane. The one and only time Zane had handcuffed someone on the island he’d ended up falling in love with her.

Only, Simon had no intention of falling in love with anyone, least of all Marcy. What he did want was his damn manager back.

“Let go of me,” she growled at him, deep in her throat.

“Not on your life.”

Somewhere along her upward journey, her glasses had been knocked off. Her eyes blazed. Her face was flushed, not with the warmth of the tropical sun but the passion of her anger.

He found himself letting her go anyway, unwrapping his hands from around her arms slowly. The inside edge of his fingers felt scalded where they’d touched her skin. He wondered if she’d been out in the sun too long, but didn’t want to risk touching her again to find out. She didn’t look burned….

Once she was free, instead of pulling away as he’d expected, she pushed forward, crowding her body into his space. His chest tightened.

Her pert little nose reached just to the hollow at the base of his throat, but that didn’t stop her from spearing him with her gaze. The tips of her breasts, barely covered by the pale yellow excuse for a bathing suit, pressed into the upward curve of his belly. Some sweet, floral scent mixed with sunscreen enveloped her.

The sudden vision of him rubbing the stuff into her soft skin filled his mind. He sucked a breath deep into his lungs, then regretted it when that scent swelled inside him, consuming him from the inside out.

The erection he’d somehow managed to get under control stirred again. Simon took a step backward in order to hide it from her.

“It’s about damn time you had to learn how to handle this stuff on your own. I’m tired of watching you gallivant around this place like it’s nothing more than a beach oasis that somehow manages to run itself. Maybe if you get a taste of what a single day of my life is like, you’ll appreciate whoever comes in to take my place when I am finally gone.” She returned to the lounge chair, stretching out.

“I appreciate you.”

“Empty words. And since you’ve given me no choice but to sit here for the next two weeks, I’ve made it my mission to change that. I consider it my civic duty.”

All Simon could think was Oh, shit.

MARCY STARED UP AT SIMON. She had to admit the bemused expression on his face was somewhat rewarding.

She wasn’t nearly as upset this morning as she’d been yesterday when Simon had announced he had her trapped on the island.

She’d made a phone call to Mr. Bledsoe, the owner of the hotel in New York, and when she’d explained that she was stuck, he’d agreed to arrange a video interview with the selection committee. Tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. with any luck she’d be well on her way to a new position.

In the meantime, she’d decided to take advantage of the resort amenities that she’d never had the opportunity to use before. It had been a long time—a very long time—since she’d sat on her rear and done nothing all day. She had to admit, at first, she’d been a little restless. Sitting idle wasn’t in her nature.

She’d gotten the hang of it pretty darn quickly, though. She’d made a huge dent in the Cooper Simmens thriller she’d hoped to read on the plane and had managed to take a little catnap in the sun. As long as she didn’t burn, those two activities seemed perfect enough to keep her busy for the next two weeks.

If she could survive Simon.

First, he honestly didn’t think he’d done anything wrong by forcing her to stay on the island and screwing up all her plans. He figured he wrote her paycheck, so that made her his slave. Yeah, right.

Second, his frustrating lack of interest in the resort drove her up the wall. He kept saying he had things to do, but in two years she’d never actually seen him do anything but mess with his computer, snorkel and surf. It wasn’t as if the man had another job. He just wanted this place to make money so he could fool around.

He was constantly locking himself inside the office or taking mysterious trips to the mainland for heaven only knew what—probably to visit his latest lover.

Marcy’s right eyelid began to twitch. The thought of him with a lover made her want to snarl, although she realized she had no right to care.

“I do not need a life lesson from you, Marcy. What I need is for you to do your damn job.”

“I don’t have a job anymore,” she responded patiently. How many times would she have to say it before he got it through his thick skull? Just because she was still physically on the island didn’t mean he could make her do a darn thing.

He opened his mouth to argue—she could see the stormy cast to his eyes—but a loud explosion rocked the ground beneath their feet, cutting him off before he could say anything else. It was followed by a towering spout of water.

Simon’s eyes widened. A series of loud curses and raised voices came from behind the main building.

“What the hell …” he said, moving quickly toward the chaos.

Marcy tried to stay in her chair. She really did. But she just couldn’t. Someone might be hurt, and while the appeal of teaching Simon a lesson was great, it couldn’t trump her basic human nature.

Grabbing her towel and wrapping it around her body sarong-style, Marcy sprinted after him.

Skidding to a halt, she came inches away from barreling into the solid wall of his back. Considering he was close to a foot taller than she was, he blocked her entire view. However, the pandemonium and the loud hiss of escaping water was enough for her to realize whatever was in front of him wasn’t good.

Bracing her hands on Simon’s hips for balance, she leaned around him. The scene before her was something out of a comedy—a bad one.

Five big, burly, tattooed men stood around a gushing geyser of water. One of those famous tropical breezes sprayed a fine mist directly into her face.

And beneath her hands she could feel the steady rumble of anger rolling through Simon’s body. For the first time she realized that her palms had heated through from the warmth of him. But there was something else, a sizzle of electricity that spiked up her arm and into her body to give her heart a little jolt. Startled by the sensation, Marcy jerked her hands away and scooted out from behind him.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Reeves. We’ll have this fixed in no time.”

“Define no time,” he said. From the corner of her eye she could see the glare Simon leveled at the single man who’d been daring enough to step forward from the pack. Although Marcy noticed the other four men had taken a rather large step backward, so it was entirely possible that his newfound status as spokesperson hadn’t been intentional.

The worker glanced down at the bubbling water. At least the geyser had eased off. No doubt the pressure of the explosion had bled off the force pushing at the water.

“Um …” He scratched his head and glanced up again without actually looking Simon in the eye. “I think we hit the main waterline, so …” His voice trailed off without him actually committing to a time frame.

“You think? Really? What gave it away? I’m guessing this means you’re going to have to shut off the water?”

In some perverse corner in the back of Marcy’s mind she had to admit that it was refreshing to see Simon’s signature sarcasm leveled at someone else for a change.

The other man nodded slowly. “Yes, sir, so we can work on the line. Anything fed by this line will be without water while we repair it.”

An expletive burst from Simon. “That’s everything but a few bungalows fed by the old water tanks.”

Soon after coming to the island, Simon had upgraded all the outdated plumbing and as much of the electrical as possible. The few bungalows the staff used had been too far back to tie into the new system, so he’d left them on the reservoir.

“How long?”

“One, maybe two days,” the other man said, but his tone didn’t exactly encourage confidence in the estimate.

“Two days isn’t acceptable. We have a business to run.”

Marcy decided not to mention that the only person inhabiting that building right now was Simon.

“I expect this fixed no later than five o’clock this afternoon. And if it isn’t, you’ll work through the night until it is.”

“But Mr. Reeves, how do you expect us to work in the dark?”

“I really don’t care.”

Simon spun on his heel. He stopped midstride, his gaze grabbing Marcy’s. His dark blue eyes flashed. For just a second, beneath that laid-back surf-god exterior, Marcy saw the outline of a driven, take-no-prisoners man.

“Don’t say a word.”

She opened her mouth.

“Not one word.”

And closed it again.

Her lips twitched. She tried desperately to keep them straight, but it was a battle she was quickly losing.

With another growl of frustration, he walked away.

Marcy tried to stop the words before they left her lips. Really, she did. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” she called out to his retreating back.