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Signing his fake name on the electronic screen, he fished for information. “Are you understaffed?”
She ran a pair of keycards through the machine and slid them into a small welcome folder.
“Definitely not. We’ll have Rudolfo bring your bags. I just want to personally ensure the suite is to your liking.” She handed him the packet with the keys while giving a nod to the bell captain. “Can I make a dinner reservation for you this evening, Mr. Holmes?”
Cameron juggled the restless dog, who was no doubt more travel-weary than him. They’d taken a private jet, but even with the shorter air time, there’d been limo rides to and from airports, plus a boat crossing from Charlotte Amalie to the Carib Grand since the hotel occupied a small, private island just outside the harbor area in Saint Thomas. He’d walked the dog when they hit the ground at the airfield, but Poppy’s owner had cautioned him to give the animal a certain amount of rest and play each day. So far on Cam’s watch, Poppy had clocked zero time spent on both counts. For a pampered show dog, she was proving a trouper.
As soon as he banished the hotel staff including Maresa Delphine, he’d find a quiet spot on the beach where he and his borrowed pet could recharge.
“I’ve heard a retired chef from Paris opened a new restaurant in Martinique.” He would be spending some time on that island where his half brothers were living. “I’d like a standing reservation for the rest of the week.” He had no idea if he’d be able to get over there, but it was the kind of thing a good concierge could accommodate.
“I’ve heard La Belle Palm is fantastic.” Maresa punched a button on the guest elevator while Rudolfo disappeared down another hall with the luggage. “I haven’t visited yet, but I enjoyed Chef Pierre’s La Luce on the Left Bank.”
Her words brought to mind her résumé that he’d reviewed briefly before making the trip. She’d worked at a Paris hotel prior to accepting her current position.
“You’ve spent time in Paris, Ms. Delphine?” He set Poppy on the floor, unfurling the pink jeweled leash that had matched the carrying case Mrs. Trager had given him. He’d kept all the accessories except for that one—the huge pink pet carrier made Cam look like he was travelling with Barbie’s Dreamhouse under his arm.
“She’s so cute.” Maresa kept her eyes on the dog and not on him. “And yes, I lived in Paris for a year before returning to Saint Thomas.”
“You’re from the area originally?” He almost regretted setting the dog down since it removed a barrier between them. Something about Maresa Delphine drew him in.
His gaze settled on the bare arch of her neck just above her jacket collar. Her thick brown hair had been clipped at the nape, ending in a silky tail that curled along one shoulder. A single pearl drop earring rolled along the tender expanse of skin, a pale contrast to her rich brown complexion.
“I grew up in Charlotte Amalie and worked in a local hotel until a foreign exchange program run by the corporate owner afforded me the chance to work overseas.” She glanced up at him. Caught him staring.
The jolt of awareness flared, hot and unmistakable. He could tell she felt it, too. Her pupils dilated a fraction, dark pools with golden rims. His heartbeat slugged heavier. Harder.
He forced his gaze away as the elevator chimed to announce their arrival on his floor. “After you.”
He held the door as she stepped out into the short hall. They passed a uniformed attendant with a gallon-sized jug stuffed under his arm, a pair of earbuds half-in and half-out of his ears. After a quick glance at Maresa, the young man pulled the buds off and jammed them in his pocket, then shoved open a door to the stairwell.
“Here we are.” Maresa stepped aside so Cam stood directly in front of the entrance to the Antilles Suite.
Poppy took a seat and stared at the door expectantly.
Cameron used the keycard to unlock the suite, not sure what to expect. Was Maresa Delphine worthy of what the company compensated her? Or had she returned to her hometown in order to bilk guests out of extra tips and take advantage of her employer? But she didn’t appear to be looking for a bonus gratuity as her gaze darted around the suite interior and then landed on him.
Poppy spotted the patch of natural grass just outside the bathroom door. The sod rested inside a pallet on carpeted wheels, the cart painted in blues and tans to match the room’s decorating scheme. The dog made a break for it and Cam let her go, the leash dangling behind her.
Lilacs flanked the crystal decanters on the minibar. Through the open door to the bathroom, Cameron could see the bubbles nearing the edge of the tub, the hot water still running as steam wafted upward.
So far, Maresa had proven a worthy concierge. That was good for the hotel, but less favorable for him, perhaps, since her high standards surely precluded acting on a fleeting elevator attraction.
“If everything is to your satisfaction, Mr. Holmes, I’ll leave you undisturbed while I go make your dinner reservations for the week.” She hadn’t even allowed the door to close behind them, a wise practice, of course, for a female hotel employee.
Rudolfo was already in the hall with the luggage cart. Cameron could hear Maresa giving the bellhop instructions for his bags. And Poppy’s.
“Thank you.” Cameron turned his back on her to stare out at the view of the hotel’s private beach and the brilliant turquoise Caribbean Sea. “For now, I’m satisfied.”
The room, of course, was fine. Ms. Delphine had passed his first test. But was he satisfied? No. He wouldn’t rest until he knew why the guest reviews of the Carib Grand were lower than anticipated. And satisfaction was the last thing he was feeling when the most enticing woman he’d met in a long time was off-limits.
That attraction would be difficult to ignore when it was imperative he uncover all her secrets.
Two (#u66eae268-7cb3-589a-855d-b3663e7af183)
As much as Maresa cursed her alarm clock chirping at her before dawn, she never regretted waking up early once she was on the Carib Grand’s private beach before sunrise. Her mother’s house was perched on a street high above Saint Thomas Harbor, which meant Maresa took a bike to the ferry each morning to get to the hotel property early for these two precious hours of alone time before work. Her brother was comfortable walking down to the dock later for his shift, a task that was overseen by a neighbor and fellow employee who also took the ferry over each day.
Now, rolling out her yoga mat on the damp sand, she made herself comfortable in child’s pose, letting the magic of the sea and the surf do their work on her muscles tight with stress.
One. Two. Three. Breathe.
Smoothing her hands over the soft cotton of her bright pink crop top, she felt her diaphragm lift and expand. She rarely saw anyone else on the beach at this hour, and the few runners or walkers who passed by were too busy soaking up the same quiet moments as she to pay her any mind.
Maresa counted through the inhales and exhales, trying her damnedest to let go of her worries. Too bad Cameron Holmes’s ice-blue eyes and sculpted features kept appearing in her mind, distracting her with memories of that electric current she’d experienced just looking at him.
It made no sense, she lectured herself as she swapped positions for her sun salutations. The guest was demanding and borderline rude—something that shouldn’t attract her in the slightest. She hated to think his raw masculinity was sliding under her radar despite what her brain knew about him.
At least she’d made it through the first day of his stay without incident. But while that was something to celebrate, she didn’t want her brother crossing paths with the surly guest again. She’d held her breath yesterday when the two passed one another in the corridor outside the Antilles Suite, knowing how much Rafe loved dogs. Thankfully, her brother had been engrossed in his music and hadn’t noticed the Maltese.
She’d keep Rafe safely away from Mr. Holmes for the next two weeks. Tilting her face to the soft glow of first light, she arched her back in the upward salute before sweeping down into a forward bend. Breathing out the challenges—living in tight quarters with her family, battling local agencies to get her brother into support programs he needed for his recovery, avoiding her former fiancé who’d texted her twice in the last twenty-four hours asking to see her—Maresa took comfort in this moment every day.
Shifting into her lunge as the sun peeked above the horizon, Maresa heard a dog bark before a small white ball of fluff careened past her toward the water. Startled by the sudden brush of fur against her arm, she had to reposition her hands to maintain her balance.
“Poppy.” A man’s voice sounded from somewhere in the woods behind the beach.
Cameron Holmes.
Maresa recognized the deep baritone, not by sound so much as by the effect it had on her. A slow, warm wave through the pit of her belly. What was the matter with her? She scrambled to her feet, realizing the pampered pet of her most difficult guest was charging into the Caribbean, happily chasing a tern.
“Poppy!” she called after the dog just as Cameron Holmes stepped onto the beach.
Shirtless.
She had to swallow hard before she lifted her fingers to her lips and whistled. The little Maltese stopped in the surf, peering back in search of the noise while the tern flew away up the shore. The ends of Poppy’s glossy coat floated on the surface of the incoming tide.
The man charged toward his pet, his bare feet leaving wet footprints in the sand. Maresa was grateful for the moment to indulge her curiosity about him without his seeing her. A pair of bright board shorts rode low on his hips. The fiery glow of sunrise burnished his skin to a deeper tan, his square shoulders rolling with an easy grace as he scooped the animal out of the water and into his arms. He spoke softly to her even as the strands of long, wet fur clung to his side. Whatever he said earned him a heartfelt lick on the cheek from the pooch, its white tail wagging slowly.
Maresa’s heart melted a little. Especially when she caught a glimpse of Cameron Holmes’s smile as he turned back toward her. For a moment, he looked like another man entirely.
Then, catching sight of her standing beside her yoga mat, his expression grew shuttered.
“Sorry to interrupt your morning.” He gave a brief nod. Curt. Dismissive. “I thought the beach would be empty at this hour or I wouldn’t have let her off the leash.” He clipped a length of pink leather to the collar around Poppy’s neck.
“Most days, I’m the only one down here at this time.” She forced a politeness she didn’t feel, especially when she wasn’t on duty yet. “Would you like a towel for her?”
The animal wasn’t shivering, but Maresa couldn’t imagine it would be easy to groom the dog if she walked home with wet fur dragging on the ground.
“I didn’t think to bring one with me.” He frowned, glancing around the deserted beach as if one might appear. “I assumed towels would be provided.”
She tried not to grind her teeth at the air of entitlement. It became far easier to ignore the appeal of his shirtless chest once he started speaking in that superior air.
“Towels are available when the beach cabana opens at eight.” Bending to retrieve the duffel on the corner of her mat, she tugged out hers and handed it to him. “Poppy can have mine.”
He hesitated.
She fought the urge to cram the terry cloth back in her bag and stomp off. But, of course, she couldn’t do that. She reached toward the pup’s neck and scratched her there instead. Poppy’s heart-shaped collar jangled softly against Maresa’s hand. She noticed the “If Found” name on the back.
Olivia Trager?
Maybe the animal belonged to a girlfriend.
“Thank you.” He took the hand towel and tucked it around the dog. Poppy stared out of her wrap as if used to being swaddled. “I really didn’t mean to interrupt you.”
He sounded more sincere this time. Maresa glanced up at him, only to realize how close they were standing. His gaze roamed over her as if he had been taking advantage of an unseen moment, the same way she had ogled him earlier. Becoming aware of her skimpy yoga crop top and the heat of awareness warming her skin, she stepped back awkwardly.
“Ms. Trager must really trust you with her dog.” She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Then again, maybe hearing about his girlfriend would stop these wayward thoughts about him. “That is, no wonder you want to take such good care of her.”
Awkward much? Maresa cursed herself for sticking her nose in his personal business.
His expression remained inscrutable for a moment. He studied her as if weighing how much to share. “My mother wouldn’t trust anyone but me with her dog,” he said finally.
She considered his words, still half wishing the mystery Ms. Trager was a girlfriend on her way to the resort today. Then Maresa would have to take a giant mental step backward from the confusing hotel guest. As it stood, she had no one to save her from the attraction but herself. With that in mind, she raked up her yoga mat and started rolling it.
“Well, I hope the dog walker and groomer meet your criteria.” She stuffed the mat in her duffel, wondering why he hadn’t let the walker take the animal out in the first place. “I’m happy to find someone else if—”
“The walker is fine. You’re doing an excellent job, Maresa.”
The unexpected praise caught her off guard. She nearly dropped her bag, mostly because he fixed her with his clear blue gaze. Heat rushed through her again, and it didn’t have anything to do with the sun bathing them in the morning light now that it was fully risen.
“Thank you.” Her throat went dry. She backed up a step. Retreating. “I’m going to let you enjoy the beach.”
Maresa turned toward the path through the thick undergrowth that led back to the hotel and nearly ran right into Jaden Torries, her ex-fiancé.
“Whoa!” Jaden’s one hand reached to steady her, his other curved protectively around a pink bundle he carried. Tall and rangy, her artist ex-boyfriend was thin where Cameron was well-muscled. The round glasses Jaden wore for affectation and not because he needed them were jammed into the thick curls that reached his shoulders. “Maresa. I’ve been trying to contact you.”
He released her, juggling his hold on the small pink parcel he carried. A parcel that wriggled?
“I’ve been busy.” She wanted to pivot away from the man who’d told the whole island he was dumping her before informing her of the fact. But that shifting pink blanket captured her full attention.
A tiny wrinkled hand reached up from the lightweight cotton, the movement followed by the softest sigh imaginable.
Her ex-fiancé was carrying a baby.
“But this is important, Maresa. It’s about Isla.” He lowered his arm cradling the infant so Maresa could see her better.
Indigo eyes blinked up at her. Short dark hair complimented the baby’s medium skin tone. A white cotton headband decorated with rosettes rested above barely there eyebrows. Perfectly formed tiny features were molded into a silent yawn, the tiny hands reaching heavenward as the baby shifted against Jaden.
Something shifted inside Maresa at the same time. A maternal urge she hadn’t known she possessed seized her insides and squeezed tight. Once upon a time she had dreamed about having this man’s babies. She’d imagined what they would look like. Now, he had sought her out to...taunt her with the life she’d missed out on?
The maternal urge hardened into resentment, but she’d be damned if she’d let him see it.
“Congratulations. Your daughter is lovely, Jaden.” She straightened as the large shadow of Cameron Holmes covered them both.
“Is there a problem, Ms. Delphine?” His tone was cool and impersonal, yet in that awkward moment he felt like an ally.
She appreciated his strong presence beside her when she felt that old surge of betrayal. She let Jaden answer since she didn’t feel any need to defend the ex who’d called off their wedding via a text message.
“There’s no problem. I’m an old friend of Maresa’s. Jaden Torries.” He extended his free hand to introduce himself.
Mr. Holmes ignored it. Poppy barked at Jaden.
“Then I’m sure you’ll respect Maresa’s wish to be on her way.” Her unlikely rescuer tucked his hand under one arm as easily as he’d plucked his pet from the water earlier.
The warmth of his skin made her want to curl into him just like Poppy had, too.
“Right.” Jaden dropped his hand. “Except Rafe’s old girlfriend, Trina, left town last night, Maresa. And since Trina’s my cousin, she stuck me with the job of delivering Rafe’s daughter into your care.”
Maresa’s feet froze to the spot. She had a vague sense of Cameron leaning closer to her, his hand suddenly at her back. Which was helpful, because she thought for a minute there was a very real chance she was going to faint. Her knees wobbled beneath her.
“Sorry to spring it on you like this,” Jaden continued. “I tried telling Trina she owed it to your family to tell you in person, and I thought I had her talked into it, but—”
“Rafe?” Maresa turned around slowly, needing to see with her own eyes if there was any chance Jaden was telling the truth. “Trina broke up with him almost a year ago. Right after the accident.”
Jaden stepped closer. “Right. And Trina didn’t even find out she was pregnant until a couple of weeks afterward, while Rafe was still in critical condition. Trina decided to go through with the pregnancy on her own. Isla was born the end of January.”
Maresa was too shaken to even do the math, but she did know that Trina and Rafe had been hot and heavy for the last month or two they were together. They’d been a constant fixture on Maresa’s social media feed for those weeks. Which had made it all the more upsetting when Trina bailed on him right after the accident, bursting into tears every time she got close to his bedside before giving up altogether. Had she been even more emotional because she’d been in the early stages of pregnancy?
“Why wouldn’t she have called me or my mother?” Her knees wobbled again as her gaze fell on the tiny infant. Isla? She had Rafe’s hairline—the curve of dark hair encroaching on the temples. But plenty of babies had that, didn’t they? “I would have helped her. I could have been there when the baby was born.”
“Who is Rafe?” Cameron asked.
She’d forgotten all about him.
Maresa gulped a breath. “My brother.” The very real possibility that Jaden was telling the truth threatened to level her. Rafe was in no position to be a father with the assorted symptoms he still battled. And financially? She was barely getting by supporting her family and paying some of Rafe’s staggering medical bills since he hadn’t been fully insured at the time.
“Look.” Jaden set a bright pink diaper bag down on the beach. Cartoon cats cartwheeled across the front. “My apartment is no place for a baby. You know that, right? I just took her because Trina showed up last night, begging me for help. I told her no, but told her she could spend the night. She took off while I was sleeping. But she left a note for you.” He looked as though he wanted to sort through the diaper bag to find it, but before he leaned down he held the baby out to Maresa. “Here. Take her.”
Maresa wasn’t even sure she’d made up her mind to do so when Jaden thrust the warm, precious weight into her arms. He was still talking about Trina seeming “unstable” ever since giving birth, but Maresa couldn’t follow his words with an infant in her arms. She felt stiff and awkward, but she was careful to support the squirming bundle, cradling the baby against her chest while Isla gurgled and kicked.
Maresa’s heart turned over. Melted.
Here, the junglelike landscaping blocked out the sun where the tree branches arced over the dirt path. The scent of green and growing things mingled with the sea breeze and a hint of baby shampoo.
“She’s a beauty,” Cameron observed over her shoulder. He had set Poppy on the ground so he could get closer to Isla and Maresa. “Are you okay holding her?”
“Fine,” she said automatically, not wanting to give her up. “Just...um...overwhelmed.”
Glancing up at him, she caught her breath at the expression on his face as he looked down at the child in her arms. She had thought he seemed different—kinder—toward Poppy. But that unguarded smile she’d seen for the Maltese was nothing compared to the warmth in his expression as he peered down at the baby.
