Chapter 6
SIX
Kenzie simmered with frustration and worry. Jaz had dumped her here like a jacket over a chair.
It was fine. He was trying not to blow his cover. It wouldn’t be so bad if there actually were chairs. These shoes were torture.
“How long are you staying?” Francine asked.
She’d been kind enough since Jaz had left Kenzie with her and Henry.
But the man who’d joined their circle minutes after Jaz walked away kept inching closer.
His cologne, something musky and expensive she supposed she was meant to like, clung to the air between them. She was doing her best to ignore him.
“A few more days,” she told Francine. “How about you?”
“Henry loves to go to the regatta every year. We’ll go home after that.”
Kenzie knew what she was talking about, but Simone wouldn’t have any idea. “Is it some kind of race?”
Henry looked amused. “It’s a bit more than that. Watching those magnificent crafts carried by nothing but wind and skill… You should see if you can extend your trip.”
“Some people have jobs and lives, dear.” Francine smiled at her husband, shaking her head. To Kenzie, she said, “Besides, it’s on St. Martin. Have you ever been?”
“Never.”
The annoying man beside her said, “I’d love to show you sometime. It’s a beautiful island.” His finger slithered down her arm.
“It can’t be prettier than St. Barts, though.” Kenzie shifted away and scanned the terrace for any sign of Jaz. If she shifted any farther, she’d bump into Henry.
She’d thought about making an escape the moment Jaz had disappeared, grabbing a taxi and going to her apartment. Leaving him behind, him and this whole crazy business, or at least finding a more reasonable way to deal with it.
As much as her feet itched to run, she’d stayed right where Jaz had left her.
Maybe he’d separated her from her crew against her will, but before that, he’d saved her life.
And he knew a lot more about what was going on than she did.
She’d stayed for another reason, though she wouldn’t admit it to anyone else.
She needed to make sure he was all right.
That hulking guard who’d summoned him hadn’t seemed the friendly sort.
The guy who’d intruded on her conversation with the kind older couple—Bradley or Chadwick or some other country-club name—turned to speak to a man at a nearby table, taking the opportunity to shift a little closer to Kenzie.
When he smiled at her again, he lowered his voice as if sharing a secret.
“I have a little boat. A yacht, really.” He popped on a humble grin she wasn’t buying for a second.
“Why don’t you let me show you the island tomorrow?
There are some private beaches that tourists never see. ”
Kenzie forced a smile, pretending to be impressed.
But Simone was supposed to be smitten with Jaz, which gave her the perfect excuse to rebuff this guy.
“That’s so sweet, but I’m actually—”
“You really must see the island properly, from the water.” His fingers grazed her bare shoulder, and insects crawled down her spine.
She ducked away. “I’m here with someone.
” Her tone came out far more Captain Kenzie than tourist Simone.
She tried to smile, to soften it, not that it mattered since Chad/Brad wasn’t hearing her protests.
His words became background noise when she spotted Jaz making his way through the crowd. Thank God he was all right, though the tight set of his jaw suggested things hadn’t gone well. His gaze locked with hers, and she could almost feel his relief.
He reached the table and stopped behind her, giving the unwelcome man at her side a look that had Chad/Brad shifting toward Francine.
The older woman seemed amused by the whole thing.
Jaz wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned close. “Sorry to be gone so long.”
“Everything okay?”
“Of course, gorgeous. Nothing to worry about.” He kissed her cheek, then nodded at Henry and Francine, barely sparing a glance at the intruder, who nodded to Henry and Francine and walked away.
An older man approached the table. Distinguished, silver-haired, probably late sixties. Like everyone else here, his casual attire looked like it came straight off a mannequin at Neiman Marcus, and he carried himself with easy confidence.
He greeted the older couple, and they caught up for a few moments, chatting about the stock market and the soaring price of metals. Then he shifted his gaze in their direction. “Jaz, it’s good to see you again.” The man was American, his accent TV-anchor bland, making it impossible to place.
“You too.” Jaz’s posture and voice were perfectly relaxed, though tension tightened the arm around her waist, probably nothing to do with the newcomer and everything to do with wherever Jaz had been. “Glad to see you back on the island.”
“Flew in this morning—just business, I’m afraid.” The man’s gaze shifted to Kenzie, assessing but not particularly interested. “And who’s this?”
“Simone Laurent.” Jaz gestured between them. “Simone, Richard Sterling. He owns half the marinas in the Caribbean.”
“Not quite half, but I’m working on it.” Richard extended his hand to her. “Pleasure to meet you, Simone.”
Kenzie shook it. “You too. What a fun job, owning marinas.” Seemed like something Simone would say.
“Fun? I suppose as fun as any business. You’re here on vacation?”
“Yes, and it’s amazing! I had no idea such beautiful places existed.”
“Lovely. And you found the best tour guide on the island.” Richard’s smile was pleasant enough. “Rumor has it Jaz knows everyone worth knowing.”
Jaz laughed, the sound careless. “I do my best.”
“How long are you staying, Richard?” Henry asked. “Francine and I would love to have you come by for dinner before you leave.”
“Just a few days.” Richard glanced at his watch—probably a name brand that would impress Simone, but Kenzie had no idea about that sort of thing. He nodded to the table. “Henry, Francine, always a pleasure. Simone, enjoy your stay. Jaz, until next time.” Richard walked away.
Henry nodded toward the man disappearing into the crowd of party guests. “We’ve known him for years. Richard’s a good man.”
“Seems like it. Thanks for keeping my date company. I need to steal her now.”
Kenzie exchanged pleased to meet yous and hope to see you agains with the older couple and let Jaz lead her away.
He moved toward the other end of the terrace. His cologne—subtle and masculine—displaced the cloying scent of her would-be suitor.
They reached the edge of the terrace and looked out at the empty beach and black waters of the Caribbean.
“Magras wants to meet you,” Jaz murmured, his lips near her ear, his breath sending unwanted tingles down her spine.
“I’m going to introduce you, a quick hello, and then I’m getting you out of here. ”
Magras. She’d never heard of him, but the tension radiating from Jaz’s body told her that, whoever this person was, she needed to tread carefully.
“Stay in character. You’re Simone, you’re smitten, you’re harmless.”
“But who is he?”
“Later.” Jaz stepped away and nodded toward the guard who’d summoned him earlier. He took her hand, and they headed toward the scary-looking guy.
Five minutes later, they reached a quiet pool far from the music and chatter of the party. A few kids were splashing in the water, watched by two adults perched on the ends of lounge chairs—a pretty long-haired woman in a sundress and a white-haired man who could be the kids’ grandfather.
Surely that harmless-looking grandfatherly type wasn’t dangerous, but Jaz led her straight to him. He squeezed her hand. “Rosa, Jean-Pierre, meet Simone Laurent. Simone, Jean-Pierre owns this resort.”
They both stood to face them, Rosa wearing a bright smile as she shook Kenzie’s hand. The man’s expression wasn’t quite so open, but he leaned in to kiss her cheeks. “Enchanté, mademoiselle.”
Rosa cleared her throat, and Jean-Pierre shook his head. “Forgive me, madame,” he corrected. “I am slow to adjust with the times.”
“Pas de sou…si?” Kenzie laughed. “Is that right for ‘no problem’? It’s been a long time since French class.”
“Close enough. But let us switch to English so your friend can understand.”
“I’m working on it,” Jaz said. “But French is the worst. What’s the point of all those letters if you’re not going to use them?”
Huh. Jaz pretended not to know the language, though she’d heard him speaking fluent French with his crew. How many lies did he tell? How many stories did he have to keep up with?
How exhausting his life must be.
“Please, sit.” Jean-Pierre gestured to the lounge chair beside his and Rosa’s. “Tell me about yourself, Simone.”
Kenzie and Jaz settled side-by-side on the edge, a little too close to Magras’s chair.
“I’m from Halifax.” Though Magras’s smile seemed genuine, something about his gaze made her feel like a bug under a microscope.
“In Nova Scotia?” she added, as if he might not have heard of it.
His smile told her he had but was too polite to say so.
“I grew up there, but my parents are from Ontario, and my grandmother’s family comes from Quebec. ”
“How exotic!” Rosa’s accent was midwestern. “I’ve been reading this wonderful mystery series that takes place in Quebec. Now I’m dying to go.”
“It’s lovely, though I would recommend going in the summertime. Winters are…” She laughed. “Let’s just say, there’s a reason I’m here instead of there.”
“I bet it’s beautiful. I’ve heard Quebec City is even more French than Montreal.”
Kenzie was thankful she’d visited. “Yes! The architecture is amazing. All those old buildings…”
She let herself ramble, thinking the more she talked, the less they could question her. Besides, the fictional Simone seemed the type to ramble.
Behind Jean-Pierre, the youngest girl splashed the boy, who lunged at her playfully.
“And what do you do, Simone?” Jean-Pierre asked when she paused for breath.
“Marketing, mostly social media stuff. I look around a place like this, and all I see is a million video ideas.” She waved her hand dismissively.
“Mostly, I try to capture people’s joy and share it.
” Was that accurate? She knew very little about what so-called influencers did.
“I think a place like this could keep me busy. It’s absolutely gorgeous. You’ve done a wonderful job.”
“Thank you.” Jean-Pierre nodded. “And how did you meet our Jaz?”
Jaz shifted beside her, his leg brushing against hers. “I told you, at the—”
“I was asking the young lady.” Jean-Pierre’s tone remained pleasant, but the rebuke was clear.
Kenzie rested her hand on Jaz’s thigh in a gesture far too intimate for practical strangers.
“We met at that cute little place down by the marina last night?” Her tone inched up like she was asking a question.
It made her sound insecure, she hoped, and not unsure she had her story straight.
“I’m here with some old school friends, and we were dancing when this guy”—she bumped his shoulder—“wormed his way in. It’s not like me to just…
go off with a stranger. But Jaz…I don’t know.
” She gave him a long look, taking in his tousled hair and that lazy smile she knew was fake but looked so real.
She could see why women wanted him. He was the perfect combination of beautiful and approachable.
“Anyway, he convinced me.” She laughed self-consciously, and it felt a little too real.
Magras’s eyes narrowed. “You’re enjoying your time on our island?”
“Omigosh, it’s amazing!” Kenzie reached for Jaz’s hand, trying to make the gesture seem natural. His fingers closed around hers, warm and reassuring. “This afternoon, he showed me places I never would have found on my own.”
Something about the way Magras looked at her—as if he could see right through her—made her want to squirm as she talked about beaches and hidden inlets, places she’d visited on the island, careful not to mention any names.
“Which was your favorite?” Magras asked.
“Oh, it’s so hard to choose.” She scrambled for an answer. “I guess that little beach where we had a picnic?” Again with the unsure tone. She turned to Jaz. “Columbia or Columbus or something?”
“Colombier,” he said. “I borrowed a boat to get us there.”
“It was lovely.” She fanned herself with her free hand. “Does it ever cool off? I’m not used to this heat.”
“I told you to be careful with the champagne.” Jaz stood and pulled her up alongside him. He sent Magras an apologetic smile. “We had a couple of drinks before we got here. I should get her back to her hotel and air conditioning.”
“Of course.” Magras rose and took her free hand, squeezing a little too tightly. “It was lovely to meet you, Simone. I expect I’ll see you again during your stay.” His gaze shifted to Jaz, and though the older man’s words sounded pleasant, she caught a hint of threat in them.
“Sure, yeah.” Jaz stepped out from between the lounge chairs, tugging her along, and Magras released his hold.
“Nice meeting you!” She called the words over her shoulder as Jaz ushered her toward the gate and safety.
They made it past the guard, down the path hemmed in by flower beds, and through the wide opening into the lobby.
Kenzie’s heel caught on an area rug, and she stumbled, gripping Jaz’s arm to keep from falling. She forced a giggle. “Oops.”
He looked down at her, a smirk on his lips. “Do I need to carry you?” There was humor in his voice, but his eyes conveyed a different message. He was trying to read her.
“Too much champagne.”
Kenzie was desperate to get outside, away from this resort and these people before they figured out who she really was.