When She Was Bad...

She wanted him too. Whatever her motives for kissing him in the penthouse suite, she hadn’t faked her response. And she wanted him right now. The moment she’d turned to face him in the airport, he’d seen the pulse beating at her throat. He knew that pulse. For six months, he’d seen it quicken every time he was near her, and watching her respond to him like that, knowing that at least something of what he was feeling was reciprocated, had made it almost impossible for him to bide his time and keep his distance. It was going to make it pure hell to resist her now.

Easing the car to a stop, Cole turned to study her as he waited for an old man to lead a cow across the road. The disguise was a good one. He’d never seen her wear anything but the most conservative suits and jewelry to the office. He suppressed the urge to reach out and trace the gold hoop in her ear.

With any woman other than Pepper Rossi, he would have been able to develop a strategy. He was good at that. It had been his ticket for survival in the foster care system. With each new family, he’d studied them, learning as much as he could, and then he’d developed a strategy for fitting in. Role-playing had been key. But he hadn’t yet figured out a strategy for dealing with Pepper Rossi. From the moment he’d first laid eyes on her, he hadn’t been sure of his moves. The last time a woman had made him this wary, he’d been fourteen and she’d been sixteen. But even then, he hadn’t taken long to figure it out.

Six months hadn’t helped him figure out how to handle Pepper, partly due to the fact that he could never quite predict what she would do. Like that kiss.

When the cow finally made it to the other side of the road, he eased the car into gear and drove forward. One thing he did know, in a battle, forewarned was forearmed. He was not going to let what he felt for Pepper Rossi interfere with recovering the Monet. The Rossis had done so much for him over the years—

“Why are you here?” she asked.

He shot her a brief glance as he turned the car onto the narrow road that wound along the coast. She was looking straight ahead, blond hair blowing in the wind, chin lifted, hands clasped tightly in her lap. He’d seen her sit the same way at meetings with her brothers and at family dinners with her father. She was wound up tight as usual. Not good, because that too was one of the things that drew him to her. Because he badly wanted to see what would happen when she came unwound. Now that he’d had a sample, he was going to have more.

“I’m here to save your pretty little ass.”

2

IRENE CAME AWAKE SLOWLY, her mind surfacing and then drifting under again. The dreamy sensation was so pleasant that she postponed opening her eyes. Far away, she heard the thrum of a motor and there was a scent she couldn’t quite place—something spicy and…male. It had been a long time since she’d woken up with a man in her bed.

A sudden thump jarred every bone in her body. She opened her eyes and looked around. Bits and pieces of reality floated like bubbles into her mind. The first one popped. She wasn’t in bed at all. She was on a plane, and she could see a forest of palm trees and a long one-story building through the small window to her right. Beyond that she saw a stretch of turquoise-blue sea, bright enough to make her blink. Beautiful.

“Are you feeling better?”

Irene jerked around to face the man who’d spoken. Her first impression was that she was looking at one of the seven dwarves. Did that make her Snow White? Good Lord, she hoped not. She shook her head a little to clear it, but her impression of the man next to her didn’t change. The dwarf had blue eyes, thinning white hair and a beard, a weathered looking face and he was radiating joviality.

“I’m Happy Johansson.”

Perfect name for a dwarf, she thought as she shook his hand. “I’m Irene. And you should think about toning down that cologne.”

“You think?” A few extra lines appeared on her seatmate’s forehead.

As Irene glanced around the plane, another of the bubbles in her head burst. The last thing she recalled was being in the Miami airport. She’d bought a book and then slipped into the bar to grab a beer…After that, everything was hazy. Obviously, she’d gotten on the commuter flight to Escapade Island, but the details of that were very vague. She could only seem to conjure up bits and pieces. Had she been in a wheelchair? That couldn’t be right. She’d never been in a wheelchair in her life.

“It isn’t really a cologne,” the man next to her was saying. “It’s the pheromone extract they sent us with the welcome letter.”

“What welcome letter?” she asked.

“I got mine right after I booked the weekend. And I used the exact amount that they suggested. I could use all the help I can get. Look around. There’s going to be a lot of competition.”

“Competition?” Irene scanned the people in the row across the aisle. The two men looked tanned and buff and a good thirty years her junior. The bronze-skinned Amazon in the aisle seat ahead of them was wearing khaki shorts, an animal print tank, and a gold snake bracelet on her upper arm. Sheena, queen of the jungle, Irene thought.

Happy nodded. “I figure at my age I have to try harder.”

No shit, Irene thought. Just then, another of the bubbles in her head popped. She’d been in the Miami airport to change planes on the way to Butch’s island. She was going to give the Monet to him as a Valentine’s Day present, and if that didn’t bring him to his senses, she was just going to have to jump him. Feeling much better, she glanced around the plane again. Why were the details of boarding the plane so fuzzy?

“Have you been to Camp E.D.E.N. before?”

“Camp E.D.E.N.” Irene tried the word out but it didn’t scare up a memory. “No, I’ve never even heard of it.”

Butch had named his island Escapade. They’d chosen the name together just before he’d been released from prison. She recalled how thrilled he’d been. She’d read and reread that letter he’d sent telling her how much he’d valued her friendship over the years, how much he wanted it to continue. Butch wasn’t a man who’d had a way with words, so she’d treasured each little thing he’d said in it—and in the next letter too when he’d told her how proud he was of what she’d made of her life during his time in prison. Then had come the letter telling her that he didn’t want her to join him on the island until the resort was finished. He wanted to surprise her. So she’d gone along with that—until she’d gotten the final “Dear Jane” letter a month ago. Now, in retrospect she saw that all the earlier letters were just preludes to the one that would tell her he thought it was best that they cancel their plans to get together, that he didn’t want to see her, didn’t want her to come and join him on the island as they’d planned. They had to face the simple fact that they were just too different and that he wasn’t and never would be good enough for her.

Even now, Irene got furious just thinking about it. Butch Castellano had dumped her. It had been bad enough when her parents had gotten him to agree to dump her forty years ago. Maybe they had been wrong for each other then. After all, he’d been climbing the ladder in a crime family, and she’d been about to go to college. In the end, she’d agreed to the separation, which had extended to forty years when he’d been sent to an upstate New York prison. But they’d kept in touch over the years, and he’d gone straight. Every cent that he’d earned to build his resort had come from legitimate sources. And her feelings for Butch had never diminished; in fact, they’d grown. They’d made plans, and she’d waited for him.

And now he’d dumped her. Dumped her after forty years. A sudden thought occurred to her. Had he changed the name of the island as one final message to her that their lifelong relationship was indeed over?

As the plane taxied to a stop, Irene considered that possibility. He’d certainly changed his mind about her and about the life they’d planned to have together. She pressed her fingers to her temple and tried to will away the panic that was threatening to erupt.

Happy took her hand. “It’s my first experience with a sex camp, too. And I’m ripe for the picking.”

Snatching her hand away, Irene stared at him. “Sex camp?” Panic threatened again. Butch might have decided she was too good for him, but he would not be building a sex camp on his island. “This is the first I’ve heard about a sex camp. What are you talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothing to be worried about. The woman who runs the place is a bit overwhelming at first, but I understand that the whole purpose of the camp is to allow you to explore your inner sex god or goddess. Discovery and experimentation are the key words. And you don’t have to participate in the group sex if you feel uncomfortable.”

“Group sex?” This definitely wasn’t Butch’s island, Irene decided. “I’m not going to any sex camp. I’m going to the Escapade Resort.”

Happy leaned closer. “What’s in a name? ‘A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.’”