Hurricanes in Paradise, Denise Hildreth [ebook reader with internet browser .TXT] 📗

Mia took the papers from her. “Sure, I’ll be glad to.”

Riley looked down at the envelope in Mia’s hand; both her and Max’s names were on the front. “Thanks. Again, they need to get there first thing this morning,” Riley said, rushing out the door. “You’ll make sure Mrs. Harris gets to the dolphin excursion?” she asked as she walked out.

Mia followed behind her. “I’ll zip up her wet suit myself.”

She laughed. “And make sure Tamyra knows I’ve reserved a place for her out by the Cain pool.”

“I’ll do it.”

Riley stopped and turned toward Mia. “Thank you. I’m really glad you’re here. I’ll need you this week.”

Mia gave her a warm smile. “It’s my pleasure. I love it. All of it.”

Riley didn’t stop her steady jog until she reached the entrance to the Royal Towers lobby. She could see Laine’s face from there. And it didn’t look happy.

* * *

“It’s five after nine,” Laine said from her seated position in the foyer of the Royal Towers. She sat surrounded by eight massive white stone columns that sat on top of large stone fish, looking like a bad version of Jonah and the whale. Vivid corals and aquamarine colors enhanced by live palm trees that dotted the marble foyer brought the tropics indoors. And Laine Fulton didn’t seem to be enjoying any of it. In fact, by the look of those dark circles under her eyes, Riley was pretty certain that last martini might have done her in.

“I know. I’m sorry I’m late. I had a contract that I had to get out first thing this morning.”

Laine stood. “It’s really not important why. It’s simply that you were. So can we get started?”

Riley felt the hair on the back of her neck bristle. This woman was a chameleon. Last night she wanted company. Today she was a piranha. “Sure. Absolutely. Where would you like to begin?”

“I’d like to start at the far end of the property.”

And with that, Riley turned into tour guide and Laine Fulton turned into the most demanding of tourists.

* * *

Tamyra lifted her head from the pillow as if it held a weight on top of it. She leaned over and looked at the clock. It was a little after nine. She had been sleeping later and later over the last six weeks. A tiny red light was blinking on the bedside phone. She picked up the receiver and tried to figure out how to retrieve her message.

It was an invitation to the pool. A lady named Mia had reserved a place for her. She couldn’t imagine spending an afternoon sitting by a pool. The thought of sitting around with nothing but her thoughts was in no way appealing. She had to do something active. Distraction had become her friend.

That is, until last night. Last night had been different. It was the first time since she’d found out she was sick that she had really forgotten. The mental torment had been silenced, at least until everyone had gotten up to leave, and then those repulsive pills burned like an out-of-control wildfire in her pocket. On top of that, the things that used to be mindless enjoyment—television, books, magazines, the Internet—all seemed a waste of time when you were dying. They seemed frivolous and trite.

When you’re dealing with life-and-death issues, you’re not too concerned with People magazine’s pick for “sexiest person of the year.” No, she cared only about essentials now. And last night showed her that one of those essentials might, in reality, be people. She had spent the last six weeks running from people—all kinds of people, even her family. But now she thought it might be her family she needed most.

One thing she knew she needed right now was food. In spite of all she ate last night, she was starving. Which in and of itself was a good sign, because she hadn’t had an appetite in a while. She walked into the bathroom and pulled her hair up into a clip, piling it on top of her head. She slipped on a little sundress and some flip-flops and stepped into the hallway by the door.

Her cell phone sat in its charger on the foyer table, and it was also blinking red. She looked at it as if it were a bomb about to explode in the middle of her room. No one had this number. This was a new phone she had purchased for outgoing calls only when she had left Savannah. She hadn’t even given the number to her parents. Sure, her mom knew where she was, but that was only because she had been in hiding from her for the last six weeks and didn’t want to put her through any more torment.

She hit a button and the screen popped to life. The caller ID revealed that she had been found. The one person she had been trying to avoid had found her number. And if he could find this phone number, he was very likely to find her. She retrieved the message, and his voice sent fear rising from her gut. “I know this is your phone, Tamyra. I’m glad you’ve had some time away to clear your head. And I’m sure when you get back home, you and I will have a lot to talk about. And trust me, I will be waiting. You can’t run forever.”

The desire to eat was replaced by a wave of panic. For the last two months she had fled that voice. That fear. But in one moment every ounce of it was back with such intensity that she felt like she wanted to crawl out of her skin. She reached for the door handle and jerked it open frantically, half-expecting him to be standing on the other side. She had to tell someone what had happened. What could happen. But she wasn’t even sure whom to tell. Riley? Riley had told