Turn Over

“I don’t comment on political stories.”

“Good God. Don’t you comment on anything? You must have an opinion on something. She’s trying to kill the land deal you made today. You have to care about that.”

“I’ve never lost a deal.” I smiled.

“What if this is your first?” she prodded.

“Excuse me?”

“Your first deal that goes under. Have you thought about the possibility that you may have spent millions that you’ll never be able to recoup?”

God, she was annoying. Sort of like a bee buzzing around my head, needling me for answers; only she diverted my answers with those legs and lips, and the breasts that kept playing peek-a-boo behind the open collar of her shirt.

“Miss Paige, I don’t make bad deals. I do my research. And if you had done yours you would know that I don’t grant interviews. I’m going to return to my table now, drink a beer, and try to forget this unpleasant exchange. Have a good night.”

“Wait.” I didn’t expect her to tug on my arm. “One quote. Please. I can’t go back to my editor with nothing. She’s going to fire me.”

I turned to face her. The determined look was gone and had been replaced with utter hopelessness.

“Fired?” I questioned.

She nodded. “I’ve already missed my deadline. This story is going to cost me my job.” She sat in an empty chair. “I know you don’t care with your millions of dollars.” She threw her hands in the air. “But this is my first job. I can’t get fired. I hate it here, but this is home until I move. I mean until I get promoted or picked up for something better. If anyone can understand moving up, it should be you.” She looked at me.

I sat next to her, fighting the urge to run my fingers through her hair. This girl was a total mess, but right now she was the most beautiful mess I had ever seen.

“I never had anything given to me.” The words sounded bitter on my tongue. “I worked hard. I still work hard every day.”

“Maybe the people on the island should know that. That you’re like them—you’ve struggled for what you have. They could relate to someone like you.” She blinked back tears. “Please let me help you tell some of this story.”

Mac was no longer watching us. I felt the muscles in my shoulders relax.

What were the chances I would run into her three times today? And each time I reacted the same way. Thrown off by her body, but even more interested in how she didn’t back down. She challenged me without even thinking about it.

“Tell me something.”

“What do you want to know?” There was a fire behind her eyes. Her words always quick as if she was able to guess my next move.

“How did you find Grey at the bar?”

Her lashes were damp from light tears. Her skin glistened and I felt myself leaning closer, anxious to feel her breath dance against my cheek again. Her voice in my ear.

“I stopped by the Palm Palace office. When he wasn’t there I asked a couple at the pool. They said he always walked over to Pete’s Bar after work.”

I rubbed my jawline. My rule was getting crushed under

her pouty stare. She didn’t know what she was doing, but I did.

“All right.”

“All right, what?” She chewed on her bottom lip, and I knew exactly how I wanted the rest of the night to play out.

“Come have a beer with us.”

“You want me to drink with you? But I thought you said it was family time.”

“It will be fun. You’ve already met Grey. You can meet my future niece-in-law. We can have a few drinks, then you can ask your questions. But no business-talk at the table. Agreed?”

“Why are you doing this? You feel sorry for me?”