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“Wait. There’s also that one, and that bag, too.”
He didn’t need to say anything; his expression said it all as he scooped up her other luggage. Well, she thought defensively, who knew how long she was going to be here? Also, not knowing what setup she was coming to, she’d packed outfits to suit every occasion. He didn’t need to look like that!
Her current outfit, however, didn’t fit this occasion. Jake led her to an open-topped Jeep where a large dog of indeterminate lineage presided in the front seat, tongue hanging out with the heat. Jake walked to the back of the vehicle, shifted a surfboard to one side and began throwing her suitcases in. Exhausted and bad-tempered as she was, Sass couldn’t help noticing his easy athleticism. In another situation she might have found him attractive, sexy even, in a rumpled, outdoor man kinda way. But Sass never mixed business and pleasure. Besides, this guy was dangerous.
“I can move Gerty to the backseat if you like, but she leaves a shocking mess of hairs behind her. You might not want to get them on your clothes. It’s your call.”
Again, there was nothing overtly hostile in his manner, but Sass knew he resented her almost as much as she resented this whole damned country.
“No problem, I’ll take the backseat.”
It was a challenge. Sass pulled her tight skirt halfway up her thighs to scramble in. She wished she hadn’t changed in Auckland, but it was her creed never to be seen tousled or crumpled. Her immaculate appearance was one of her strongest weapons—and defenses.
Jake swung himself into the front seat and adjusted the rearview mirror slightly. He surveyed her, his eyes cool, green and unwavering, like a knight staring through the visor of his helmet. Yet there were laughter lines, too. As she wriggled, trying to pull her skirt down to her knees, Sass wondered what he looked like when he smiled. The backseat was scorching and the seat belt metal burned as she buckled herself in. Her eyes were scratchy from the long flight and she narrowed them against the glare. Damned sunglasses were in her other bag.
In silence, they drove out of the airport and came almost immediately to a T-junction where the left-hand sign read, Whangarimu City Centre and the right-hand sign read, Whangarimu Heads. They turned right.
JAKE WATCHED HER PROFILE as she took in the scenery, and wondered how it would strike a stranger. The road hugged the contours of the harbor, threading through the myriad bays, each rimmed by a horseshoe of modest homes and with a cluster of small yachts bobbing on the late-afternoon tide. A seagull wheeled above with its hoarse, stuttering cry, and Jake’s stomach churned at the thought of developers coming in to ruin it all. He blamed the Lord of the Rings movies for alerting developers from all over the world to the beauty of New Zealand. Locals didn’t stand a chance against foreign currency, and coastal properties advertised on the Internet were now being snapped up at insane prices. That American braggart had bought Aroha Bay for a few million dollars in one brief visit. Money no object. People, place, nature of no concern. Well, Jake had got rid of him but it seemed the Americans were using a different sort of attack now. Easier on the eye, but this lady gave nothing away.
“Those are nice,” Sass said, nodding at the huge, ancient trees that reached sprawling, gnarled branches out over the water’s edge. Her accent was warm and made him think absurdly of honeysuckle and soft summer nights.
“They’re p
hutukawa. We call them our Christmas tree because they have red flowers in December.”
“They’re really something.” Her hand was halfway to her handbag. “Mind if I smoke?”
“I do, actually. I hate the smell of smoke in the car.”
Their eyes locked. The wind was whipping her long hair about her head, and the smell of dog punctuated the air. He knew she knew he was just being contrary.
“No problem,” she said, and sat back, breaking eye contact and looking out over the water as though she didn’t give a damn. It gave him a chance to examine her. Nobody should look that good after a thirty-hour flight. Her eyes were so blue, he wondered if she wore colored contact lenses. She had delicate bones, white-blond hair and a fair complexion.
“You’d better be careful,” he said. “The sun here is fierce and you’ll soon fry with that white skin of yours.”
Her eyes met his. “Thanks for the warning, but I’ve come prepared for things to be pretty hot down here.”
He knew she wasn’t talking about the sun.
“Wise,” he said. “Foreigners get burned very quickly.”
Jake thought he saw her eyebrows arch slightly, a smile of challenge flitting across her face, but it might only have been the effect of sun and shadow from the overhanging trees flashing past.
“Don’t you worry about me, Mr. Finlayson. I can take care of myself.”
With that, she captured her flying hair and somehow twisted it into a knot, untidy but tamed.
“Jake,” he corrected. “Where’s your name come from? I’ve never met a Sass before.”
“It’s a nickname from Sasha.”
“As in sassy?” he hazarded.
She laughed. “No, as in pain in the proverbial. I had two younger brothers who resented their bossy older sister. Our mom didn’t allow cussing.”
Their gazes met again. For a second he saw humor glimmer in her eyes, then Jake looked back at the road. He wasn’t about to start liking her—Miss Pain-in-the.
They fell silent, and instead of trying for more lame conversation, he switched on the stereo, letting the Chili Peppers take them down the length of the harbor. Just as they were about to swing onto the dirt road leading to Aroha Bay, she called out, “Stop.”
It sounded like “Staap.” Jake pulled over and waited as the lawyer took stock. It was, he resentfully acknowledged, an idyllic location for a resort. The Jeep sat on the top of a long, narrow ridge that flattened and rounded into a small peninsula, ending in a long sand spit. The view was almost three-sixty, looking down the harbor on the right-hand side and over the open ocean on the left. It would suit all types of holiday-makers. Aroha Bay below them was flat and tranquil, offering safe swimming all year round. On the seaward side, waves unfurled with lazy uniformity right along the coast. On both sides p
hutukawa clung to the cliff faces while flax bushes fanned the sands. The only sign of habitation was his dilapidated house near the beach. Jake wondered what Sass saw—the bay as it was now or some future travesty of it in her head.
“Aroha Bay is a pretty name. What does it mean?”
“Aroha is the M
ori word for love.” He sounded curt, but couldn’t help it.
She just nodded and asked, “What’s that?” pointing to where the ridge ended in a hill with grassy terraces.
“The p
—an old M
ori fortification. M
ori used to have p
up and down the coast, but this one is particularly significant.”
“Oh?” It was hard to read her expression. “Kurt never mentioned it.”
“He was too busy finding out where the nearest nightclub is.”
Jake saw Sass give a faint, disparaging smile—no love lost between those two, then—and wondered why the p
site had caught her attention. Most visitors barely noticed it.
“Shall we go?” he asked at length.
She drew her eyes away, clearly pulling her thoughts back to the present. “Sure.”
Jake spun the wheels a little as he took off, and ground the gears as they drove the last kilometer down the steep, rutted track to the bay. Bringing the enemy right into the heart of paradise.
CHAPTER TWO
SASS’S HEART SANK as they drew up in a whirl of dust between a run-down old house and what appeared to be a shed. It was nothing like the hotel room she’d been hoping for.
“This is the sleep-out,” said Jake, leaping from the Jeep and waving at the shed. “You’ll be comfortable here, I hope.”
There was not an ounce of sincerity in what he said. Wordlessly, Sass wriggled out of the backseat and dropped onto her heels, which immediately embedded themselves in the dusty driveway. Jake hauled out her bags and led her up the steps onto the deck of the “sleep-out” and into the room.
It might have been a shed once, but now its walls were painted a pale yellow that echoed the late-afternoon sun. The front wall had been replaced with glass doors that overlooked the grassy reaches of the garden to the sun-spangled bay beyond. The view was a million bucks, but the furniture had a knock-kneed look. There were no drapes at the windows. The place was big but smelled musty.
“Here’s the bathroom,” he said, opening a door to the side. “You can use the house’s kitchen. I was going to move some of the boys out here but thought you’d prefer to have some privacy with five blokes around.”
“Five!”
He smiled at her shock. “It’s a bit of a bad boys’ home—not that the kids are bad as such, just a little wild. They’re with me for six months as an experiment in early intervention.”
His tone implied that a lawyer might not understand the concept, but she glanced at him in surprise. Jake didn’t look like a social worker. In fact, he seemed a little wild himself with his tangle of tawny curls. There was an exotic slant to his high cheekbones and a honey tone to his deep tan. His legs were long and muscular—not an office worker, she decided. The battered shorts were, of course, another clue.
She looked around. “Can I get on the Internet here?”
Jake shook his head. “Sorry, I’ve never bothered getting it. Cell phones are pretty useless, too, most of the time. Reception is patchy. You can get all that in Whangarimu, though. Come on, I’ll show you the house. Like a cup of tea?”
“I’d love a coffee if that’s okay.”
“American. Of course.”
Sass was impressed. There was nothing in his tone, but she’d just been insulted. Silently, she followed him to the house, her heels sinking into the shaggy lawn.
The building had excellent bones, with a wood exterior and deep veranda. Going inside, however, was like walking into Man Zone. The lounge was beautiful, with French doors and a generous windowseat in the eastern wall, but it was cluttered with sagging furniture and DVDs and PlayStation games. A large television and Xbox dominated one corner. The dining room had a huge table sadly in need of a polish and buried in books and papers.
In the kitchen, cupboards hung open, dishes were piled in the sink. The breakfast things were on the table. For a brief, horrible moment Sass flashed back to the chaos of the trailer home she’d grown up in, a far cry from the immaculate order she surrounded herself with these days.
“Place is a bit of a tip, I’m afraid,” Jake said, not sounding the least apologetic. “Now, coffee, did you say?”
She looked around for his coffee machine as he put the kettle on. Then she watched as he opened a tin of instant, chipped at it for a second—God, how old was it?—then heaped a teaspoon of lumps into what she was relieved to see appeared to be a clean mug.
“Where are the kids now?”
“Should be back from school any minute, but they won’t stop to talk—the waves are too good. They’re all mad keen surfers. That’s why they’re with me. They’re preparing for the nationals and this location is unbeatable. Milk? No—just black? There you are, pull up a chair if you like.”
“No thanks, I’ll take the coffee over to the sh—sleep-out?—and start settling in if you don’t mind.”
“Suit yourself. Dinner around eight okay for you?”
She shook her head and put on a smile. “That’s kind, but no thanks. I’m beat. I’d like to have an early night.”
It was true she felt light-headed with exhaustion, but there was also no way she was going to eat anything out of that kitchen till she’d had time to fumigate the house. Coffee mug in hand, she began heading out, her system singing in anticipation of a cigarette.
“One more thing. This is a smoke-free zone. Several of the boys have quit. I’m sure you understand.”
She turned to look at him. He looked back.
“Sure,” she said slowly, her fingers tightening on the mug. “I understand.”
Back in her quarters she kicked off her heels with vehemence, opened her bag and for a second gazed longingly at her cigarettes. Later, when they were all eating dinner, she would sneak one behind the sleep-out. From under her cigarettes she pulled out her BlackBerry. Sure enough, no reception. Great. The toughest challenge of her career and here she was, stuck in the remotest corner of the bottom of the world with no line out.
Sass was good at her job, damned good. Some called her The Great Persuader, others The Great Manipulator. Whichever, she was the original fix-it gal. But she’d had to work twice as hard and be three times better than any male colleague just to be noticed. For seven years, Sass had given her life to her job, her sole goal being to one day make senior partner, aka join The Boys who ran Paradise Resorts. Her break had finally come last week when she’d been summonsed to Mr. Brixby’s office.
For the first time since she’d started at the company, he’d led her to the sofas in the corner instead of consulting over his desk. They’d sat and he’d looked her right in the eye.
“Sass, we are sending you to New Zealand. I’ll be honest with you. Profits are down and the company desperately needs the injection from a new resort. Something fresh. I know,” he said, raising his hand as Sass went to speak, “Branston’s idea is fanciful. But we need something that will make people sit up, take note. We need a new direction and we’re all counting on you to make it work. Will you do this for us, Sass?”
And Sass, contrary to her usual thoroughness in checking out details beforehand, had looked back into those shrewd eyes and said, “Why of course, Mr. Brixby.”
He’d even patted her hand. “I knew we could rely on you. Your level thinking and charm might make all the difference.”
He didn’t say outright that this might secure her place with The Boys in the vacancy McKenna’s retirement had left, but the way he’d said it… Her heart had leaped and his words had continued to warm and sustain her right up until she’d seen Kurt’s smirk. Then she’d realized he believed she stood no chance at all, and that she’d take the rap for his enormous blunders. Worse, while she was trapped in this black hole, he’d be right there, ingratiating himself with The Boys.
Unable to stand being inside, she wandered out, down the steps of the deck toward the beach. Walking barefoot on grass brought back memories of racing late to school, playing catch…and it felt strangely good. She drifted to the ragged edge of the lawn and down the bank onto the sand. That felt good, too. She wrapped her fingers around her mug of coffee, took a sip, then grimaced. That was another thing she needed. Already she was making a shopping list in her mind.
The water was wonderful and she stood ankle-deep, feeling her frustrations ebb into the sea. The sun was gentler now, sinking low in the sky, and she raised her face to it. She hadn’t just stood, enjoying the feeling of sun and water, for who knew how long. She breathed in deeply, eyes closed, the salty tang carrying the whisper of romance and exotica.
Her eyes snapped open. She was most certainly not here on holiday, and she pulled her thoughts back to the ridge behind her, with its p
. Was that why Kurt had been so happy to off-load this deal onto her? What a mess. She’d have to watch her step closely if she was going to succeed.
Her host’s casual appearance didn’t deceive her. She’d seen the stubborn lines around his mouth, had noted the pugilistic set of his jaw. In the past Jake would have been in the front line of battle; with his height and reckless determination he would have led the men behind him and intimidated those he faced. Well, she wasn’t about to be intimidated. All the same, she needed to tread very carefully. If he caught one whiff of what she knew, then the deal—and her whole future—would be toast!
CHAPTER THREE
“LAST MAN HOME MAKES breakfast,” yelled Brad as he leaped down the hill from the ridge. The rest of the boys broke into a run, chasing him with whoops and threats, their surfboards bouncing and swinging as they raced.
Jake let them go, glad to have this moment to himself. Dawn had broken while they were out on the water, turning the waves pink and yellow, and now he breathed in, enjoying the soft salt tang. The sky was translucent blue and the harbor stretched out in tranquil high tide. It was unthinkable that this early morning peace and beauty, unchanged for a thousand years, should now be threatened.
The boys, still whooping, had disappeared around the corner of the house when, inexplicably, their cries died midyell. Curious, Jake loped down the steep driveway, and as he rounded the house, saw what had silenced them. Sass, in a black swimsuit, had emerged from the sea and was making her way slowly up the beach toward them. Brad whistled under his breath; Paul gulped. The twins blushed red and exchanged abashed, sideways grins. Jake couldn’t blame them. Though her swimsuit was modestly cut, it molded to her. Clearly, they grew them tall and lithe in Texas, with long legs that could—Jake swiftly blocked the highly inappropriate thoughts that crowded into his mind. An understandable reaction, he told himself. The natural response of a year’s self-enforced celibacy.
She smiled, but Jake was surprised to see her pause as though unsure, shy even, as she eyed the lineup of young males.
“Hey, you must be the gang Jake spoke of.”
“Yeah,” said Jake, collecting himself. “The lanky one is Paul, the twins Mike and Mark—don’t worry if you can’t tell them apart, no one can—and Brad’s the one with his tongue hanging out.”
Brad threw him a look as he shifted his board to his other arm and held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.” His formal manner, however, was undermined by the thoughts so clearly written all over his adolescent face.
Sass moved forward and Paul swallowed again as she shook Brad’s hand. “I’m Sass. Pleased to meet y’all.”
Then she turned to shake the other boys’hands, spell-binding each in turn with her smile, which, Jake had to grudgingly admit, was friendly and in no way playing up the obvious effect she was having on them all.
“Nice swim?” he asked.
“Yes, the water was lovely. I woke early—jet lag I guess—and it looked so inviting I couldn’t resist. How was the surf?” Her Southern voice floated lazy and warm, complementing the early morning air.
“It was awesome! Do you surf?” Brad asked.
