Jessica Hart – Paradise Nights: Taken by the Bad Boy (страница 12)

Nico stared at her in silence. So did Chloe.

‘All right,’ her cousin said finally. ‘So he hasn’t always been a penniless drifter. That’s quite a job. Some women might even think it sounds romantic—although they’d be wrong.’ He glared at Chloe. ‘But can he fish?’

CHAPTER FIVE

PETE was five steps from the front door of Chloe’s hotel, his duffel slung over his shoulder and his mind on a dark-eyed goddess he’d promised to court discreetly, when Sam hightailed it past him to hold the door open for him before making a beeline for the reception desk. The passengers Pete had flown to the island were staying with family, he had no need to help anyone else check in, no one else’s belongings but his own to carry, no one to answer to until mid-morning the following day. Nothing to do but suit himself.

As far as Pete was concerned, suiting himself involved checking in, grabbing something to eat at some stage, and finding Serena.

Furious whispering ensued as he headed towards the desk. Maybe they were booked out? Maybe that was what all the fuss was about? Because, without question, they were fussing about something. Sam beamed. The receptionist blushed.

‘Checking in, sir?’ she said. ‘Do you have a booking?’

‘Not yet. I’m after a room for the night. If you have one.’

‘Certainly, sir. One person?’

Pete nodded.

‘You’ll be in room seventeen.’

He handed over his credit card and she processed his payment and handed him a key. ‘Enjoy your stay.’

‘You want me to carry your bag?’ asked Sam.

‘Why? You working here now too?’

‘Nope.’ Sam paused as if to consider the notion, his eyes brightening. ‘Not yet. But I could. Do you think she’d pay me?’

‘Who? Your Aunt Chloe? Maybe.’ He studied the boy. ‘You need money?’

‘Doesn’t everyone?’

‘What for?’

‘Stuff.’

‘What kind of stuff?’

The boy shrugged. ‘Just stuff.’

Pete opened the door to room seventeen and looked around. ‘Nice room,’ he said.

Sam’s smile broadened.

Pete dumped his duffel on the end of the bed and deliberately turned to survey the minibar. ‘Do you drink, Sam?’

Sam’s mouth set into a thin stubborn line. ‘No.’

‘Smoke?’

‘No.’

‘Shoot?’

‘I said no!’

‘Good for you,’ he said mildly. ‘Then why are you so determined to start work and earn money?’

Sam didn’t answer him, just stood silently in the doorway with a stubborn set to his jaw that Pete was more than familiar with having grown up in a household full of siblings who were anything but malleable. He held Sam’s gaze and waited, not stern, not demanding, just waiting. Borrowing the technique from Jake—hell, it always seemed to work for him.

‘What if I need to buy food, or shoes?’ said Sam abruptly. ‘What if I need to buy medicine for—’ The boy stopped, looking as stricken as Pete suddenly felt. ‘What if I get sick?’ he said in a small, thin voice.

‘Your family will take care of that kind of stuff for you, Sam,’ he said gruffly.

‘And if they don’t?’

‘They will. Your aunt Chloe will.’

There was a world of mistrust in Sam’s eyes. ‘You don’t know that.’

‘You’re right, I don’t.’ He’d lost his mother, just like Sam. But he’d never been alone. He’d always had his brothers to rely on. Even when their father had fallen apart, he’d always had his siblings. Sam had had no one and Pete couldn’t begin to imagine what the boy had gone through—was still going through if his dogged determination to work and to earn his own way was any indication. ‘But I’ll bet you fifty euros that if you get sick your aunt will get you the medicine, or the doctors, or the hospital care you need.’ He fished his wallet from his pocket, withdrew a fifty euro-note and tossed it down on the bed. He withdrew another note. ‘I’ll bet you another fifty she’ll never let you go hungry.’

Sam stared at him with those dark, haunted eyes. Wanting to believe, thought Pete. Desperately wanting it to be so, when experience had only ever taught him otherwise. ‘I don’t have a hundred euros to bet with,’ Sam said at last.

‘You don’t need it. If your aunt lets you down the money’s yours. If she doesn’t, you give it back. That’s the deal,’ he said, but still the boy hesitated. ‘Take it or leave it.’ Pete turned away, started to unpack his duffel. When he turned back Sam was standing by the bed and the money was gone.

‘Deal,’ said Sam awkwardly.

Pete nodded. Maybe with some money in his pocket the kid would feel slightly more secure. He hoped so.

‘Everyone’s down at the beach fixing nets,’ Sam said next. ‘You could come down too.’

‘I have a few things to do here first.’ He was trying to be discreet. Trying very hard not to go looking for Serena the minute he set foot on the island. Although … Maybe seeing her now was better than seeing her later. Maybe being seen with her openly, in the company of others, was the epitome of discreet in Sathi. Who knew?

Sam studied him curiously. ‘Serena’s down there.’

‘So I saw.’

‘She keeps talking to herself. Nico reckons she’s pining for something.’

‘Does he now?’

‘Yeah. Serena reckons Nico’s got a death wish.’

‘Maybe I will come down,’ he said, stifling a grin. After all, Sam had come looking for him. Nico and Serena and Chloe had to be thinking it was okay for him to join them otherwise they wouldn’t have let Sam come looking for him in the first place. Right?

Besides, denial wasn’t exactly one of his strong suites.

What Pete Bennett wanted, he usually got.

Fast.

Serena had decided to be cool, calm, and in control if the flying one decided to join them down on the beach. Cool was a shoe in given that she was wearing short white shorts, a pink and lime bikini top, and currently stood knee deep in water. Calm and in control were proving a little more problematic given that her heart was hammering and her brain had chosen to replay the beach kiss scene in From Here To Eternity and suggest it as a viable greeting option.

‘Not!’ she muttered vehemently and glared at Nico when he laughed.

Maybe if she’d had a little more forewarning she might have been able to manage calm and in control. Honestly, couldn’t he have called ahead to let her know he’d be flying in?

Didn’t the man know how to use a phone?

On the other hand, maybe he wasn’t even stopping, just dropping passengers and flying on. That was possible too.

Not that she cared if he stayed or if he left. No. He was a distraction, nothing more, and distractions could always be replaced by other distractions.

Trying to paint signage while scanning the waterfront walkway every few seconds, for example, was very distracting.

She botched the curve of the middle letter about the same time she spotted Pete and Sam heading towards the beach from the direction of the village. Not the most direct route from the hotel by any stretch of the imagination, but the reason for their detour could probably be explained by the newspaper Pete carried in one hand, and the woven blue and white shopping bag he carried in the other. The reason for her botched paint job probably had something to do with the way he filled out a white crew-necked T-shirt and an old pair of cargo trousers cut off at the knee.

‘There they are,’ said Chloe.

‘Mmm.’ She was trying for an indifferent-sounding ‘mmm,’ but figured from Chloe’s smirk that it had emerged as a whimper. Hopefully Chloe would think she was staring at the shopping bag.

Pete took his own sweet time making his way down to the boat. He stopped to kick off his shoes when he reached the sand. Stopped again to share a few words with a couple of elderly tourists.

When he stopped with Sam to poke at a mound of seaweed and watch a tiny soldier crab scuttle back into its hole in the sand she could have screamed.

He knew exactly what he was doing to her. Making her wait. And want. And want some more.