Secret Billionaire's Stormy Lover (The Secret Billionaires 2)

ver to take the coffee pot from her hands.

Jerking away, she glared at him. “I can handle it. I’ve been handling everything for months—on my own!”

Hands up, he backed up a step. “Are you like a control freak or something?”

She turned, slammed the coffee pot down and put her palm on the kitchen counter. “Something? Look, buster, I get it that you’re some kind of hot shot in New York. And we both know you’re heading out of here as soon as you can—”

“So that’s it? You think I should be planning early retirement here? You’re looking for a happy ever after, and pissed that I’m not it?”

She grabbed the coffee pot and started to fill it with water. “Read up on your fairy tales—they’re usually bloody, as in Cinderella’s step sisters get their feet cut off, and yeah, I’m thinking that’s more my kind of role in this life. Forget the happy—I’m just in it for a good time and you’re the one who keeps trying to make it more.” Coffee pot full, she turned off the water and turned to stare at him. “So let me ask you—what’s your problem? You don’t like being on the other side of love ‘em and leave ‘em. Well, that’s your problem. Now do you want to earn your keep or sleep on the beach?”

Mouth pressed into a tight line, Mike shook his head. “Why don’t I walk down to that garage you mentioned. I’ve got a list of parts you need.”

She gave a sharp nod. “Fine. Have them put it on my account. Get what you think you need, and you can take back any parts that won’t fix it.” Turning away, she got busy with the stove.

Mike watched her for a minute. The urge to grab her and kiss her and get back the woman who’d been in bed with him last night dug under Mike’s skin like a thorn. But, dammit, she had a point. He wasn’t liking being on the other side of the brush off. He also wasn’t going to prove her right by making a big deal of this.

Heading to the employee locker room, Mike dug into the locker, found a pair of sandals that almost fit and started for the garage. Maybe someone there had a working phone.

Chapter Twelve

They didn’t.

And no one seemed too upset about the phone lines still being out, or about the power being questionable. He found half the parts he needed, got smiles and taught the Fijian version of a warm hello—ni sa bula!—and an offer of fish just caught. He took the fish, signed for the parts and started back to the hotel. He didn’t see Karen so he left the fish on ice and tried his hand repairing the generator.

He got it coughing and finally got it to catch, but the damn thing made such a racket he shut it off. He’d let Karen know it was running and she could decide if she wanted to try to power the hotel. He had a feeling it would barely get the lights working—and good luck keeping the freezer cold.

Heading into the kitchen, he found a plate with a cold meat sandwich set out. He ate the sandwich, cooked up the fish, along with rice, and left that for Karen.

The next few days went by with them just missing each other. He’d find coffee waiting for him on the stove—and sometimes toast or a meal. He figured she was pulling food from the freezer by now since pizza appeared one night for dinner. The weather shifted from sunny and humid, to rain on a couple of days, and Mike stared up at the clouds, worried for the first time. They looked way too much like the clouds he’d seen building up on the day he’d taken the ferry.

Ten minutes later, he heard a distant wail.

Karen came tearing out of the hotel, yelling for him, her eyes huge and her long hair flying. “That’s the alarm,” she yelled. “Means another cyclone coming.”

The wind was already starting to kick up. Mike rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She grabbed her hair with one hand to try and tame it. “It’s the season. We’ve got to get the hotel ready.”

Following her, he knew the drill. Shutters closed, boards nailed up over the shutters. He’d used four of the boards for the generator shed, and they came up short.

Chewing on her lower lip, Karen glanced around.

Mike pulled in a breath and pushed out the words. “We can use the boards from the huts.”

“What! No way. My dad put those in.”

“It’s either them or the main hotel—and you still have two guests to worry about.” She shook her head. Mike stepped closer. “You know I’m right, so will you stop being so damn stubborn and listen for once.”

She stiffened. “I did listen to a know-it-all guy once—and got nothing but trouble for it.”

“Karen, you know—”

“I know, I know. What you’re saying makes sense. I just—”

“Hate taking apart those damn huts. Okay—what would your dad have done?”

She shook her head, but she also waved a hand. “Go get the boards and let’s get this done.”