Chapter 1
Chapter One
“ W hat do you mean you don’t have my rental car anymore? I called weeks ago to reserve it,” Meg asked exasperatedly. Her flight to Eden Isle had taken three times longer than it was supposed to due to an oncoming storm and an unexpected layover in Houston because of some faulty gauge on her first connecting flight.
“Yes ma’am, I’m sure you did, but as I said before, when you didn’t arrive by five o’clock we rented it to someone else. This policy was stated in the rental agreement you signed,” the harried clerk answered.
The airport was packed even though it was midnight on Thursday. Every Valentine’s Day weekend, the small tropical island hosted its own romance fest called Cupid’s Carnival. Meg watched a program about it on the Travel Channel over Thanksgiving break. At the time, she thought the romantic escape was just the salve she and her fiancé needed to spice up their waning relationship. She immediately began saving her money and booked their nonrefundable escape to Eden Isle the second weekend in February as a surprise. The nonrefundable part didn’t bother her until she caught her two-timing boyfriend unwrapping another woman under the tree on Christmas Eve. Unwilling and unable to justify losing such a tremendous amount of money, she decided to forge ahead with her long, romantic weekend, sans the romantic part. If nothing else, the trip to the island was a welcome break from work and winter weather and she could use the long weekend to figure out where in the hell she had gone so wrong with her life.
Unfortunately, her real-life experience wasn’t turning out to be the sun, fun, and fiesta the program promised. She’d already missed her first whole day of vacation, spending it on overcrowded planes and waiting in interminable airport lines rather than lounging by the pool at her resort hotel drinking fruity drinks with umbrellas in them. Then to add insult to injury, she’d spent the last two hours waiting for her luggage which apparently was, at this very moment, on a slow boat to China. An extremely annoying airline agent was now in possession of her name and hotel information with plans to send her luggage on “just as soon as we find it.” Yeah right. Chances were good she would be back in Virginia before it ever made an appearance.
“Do you have any cars left?” Meg asked disappointedly. She specifically rented a convertible sports car, looking forward to four days of cruising around the island with the top down.
“I have one vehicle left,” the clerk responded, clearly relieved she wasn’t going to kick up more of a fuss. Quite frankly, she was too tired to complain. “It’s a very roomy mini-van.”
“Terrific,” Meg answered with a sarcastic smile, “just what I need, seating for seven when there’s only little old me and no luggage.”
Signing all the appropriate forms, Meg waited inside the door of the airport while an employee of the rental agency fetched her mini-van. She killed the time trying to recall exactly what she’d put in her carry-on bag as she waited. No more clothes, she thought, glancing down at the comfortable travel outfit she’d worn. Having spent the last 22 hours in it, she quite frankly would have preferred to burn it rather than have to wear it again tomorrow. She had all her money--thank goodness, her camera, her passport and hotel information, aspirin—hallelujah, and her now useless cell phone. She’d dropped and broken it while waiting for her connecting flight in Florida. Yep, she thought, I’m now officially in Hell.
Finally, the employee pulled up with what the rental agent had referred to as ‘a fine car.’ Clearly, her definition of ‘fine’ varied somewhat from the agent’s. If she had any strength left in her body, she would go back and beat the guy over the head with her busted cell phone. Looking down at the directions to her hotel, she silently said a prayer that the heap of junk in front of her would make it the ten miles she needed to drive.
“Here you go, miss,” the young valet said with a smile she felt the incredible urge to run her fist through. “Welcome to Eden Isle.”
As if on cue, the sky opened up and rain began to come down in a deluge that had her soaked in less than ten seconds. Now dripping wet and cold, she climbed into the monstrous van, prayed the windshield wipers worked, and made her way out of the airport parking lot with her head pounding and her teeth chattering.
After thirty minutes of poor visibility and two missed turns, she finally found the right road. According to her directions, she was only a mile from her destination. A quick glance at the clock told her it was nearly 1 a.m. Thunder and lightning was now accompanying the pounding rain and the deafening sound of it was only adding to the pressure building behind her eyes. She should have taken a couple of those aspirin back at the airport.
Bright lights in her rear view mirror blinded her for a moment as a car came up behind her too quickly for her comfort. She knew she was driving slowly, but the visibility was practically zero and she had no idea where she was going.
“You’ll just have to hold your horses, hot shot,” she murmured to the car now riding her rear bumper. “Back off, asshole,” she added, when the car continued to drive too close. She tapped on her brake lights twice hoping the driver would get the message, but the car continued to crowd her.
Apparently tired of tailgating, the car crossed the double yellow line and began to pass her. She was even more annoyed when she realized it was an enormous limousine.
“Oh perfect,” she mumbled, “Rich boy too important to wait.”
Suddenly a pair of headlights approached from the opposite lane and Meg’s heart stopped in her chest as she watched the limo speed up to pass her before careening head-on with the other car. All she could see before slamming on the brakes was the limo’s license plate—MAD 1—taunting her. Meg swerved off the road and into a ditch as the limo began coming back into her lane before fully completing his pass. The car came to a relatively easy stop despite the fact Meg was screaming her head off and not really focusing on her driving. Looking up, she saw the limo continue down the road, the taillights of the other vehicle disappearing behind her.
“What kind of place is this?” she said to herself. She’d literally been run off the road in the middle of the night and left alone. If she ever got her hands on that limo driver, she’d kill him.
Taking a deep breath and trying to still her shaking hands, she hit the gas in an attempt to pull back out onto the road. Spinning tires greeted her and no amount of gear-switching would budge the car.
“Shit!” she screamed to the cavernous car. Grabbing her carry-on bag and throwing it over her shoulder, she climbed out of the car, kicking the tire as she passed to stalk down the road toward her hotel. If she’d been thinking clearly, she would never have left the safety of the car, but adrenalin and anger had kicked in and she was more furious than she’d ever been in her life.
After ten minutes of trudging through the mud and the rain, the gods smiled on her as she saw the sign for her hotel. Picking up the pace, she sprinted across the dark parking lot. As she approached the front door of the hotel, she spotted MAD-1 sitting under the covered entry way. The stress of the day broke free as she watched the young chauffeur get out of the driver’s seat to open the back door. Meg saw red as she headed for the man who made her wreck her lousy rental car. Out of the corner of her eye she watched a man and woman emerge from the car, but her entire focus concentrated on the cocky blond driver. Walking up to him, she put a finger in his chest and let loose.
“You stupid, ignorant, son of a bitch,” she screamed at the startled man. “You could have killed me. You aren’t fit to drive a bicycle, let alone a limo. And as if that’s not bad enough, you leave me stuck in a damn ditch by the side of the road in a storm in the middle of the night. I should call the police and have you arrested for reckless driving. I should?—”
“Excuse me, miss,” a calm voice said behind her. Turning suddenly, Meg looked up into the face of one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen in her life. Standing behind him with her mouth agape was his perfect female counterpart--an equally beautiful--actually stunning--brunette. Unfortunately, the man’s extraordinarily pleasing visage only deepened her fury as she took in the dry, immaculate, not-a-hair-out-of-place appearances of him and his lovely companion.
“And you,” she started again, hearing the hateful words spew from her mouth, yet unable to stop them, “you sit in that goddamned car like some kind of king and don’t even tell him to stop. Clearly you must have more money than brains considering you would hire him to drive your fancy car like Jeff Gordon, taking out anyone else who gets in the way.”
“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you are talking about,” the man answered smoothly despite her insults. Further angered by his calm demeanor after nearly causing her serious injury, she continued, “Sure you don’t,” she answered sarcastically. “That man runs me off the road not 10 minutes ago and you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”
Glancing sharply at his driver, the man said, “George, is this true?”
Looking at his feet, the young chauffer replied, “I didn’t know she ran off the road.”
“You didn’t know?” the man asked incredulously. “Did you pull over to check?”
“We were on a tight schedule,” George mumbled. “Already late.”
“Rob,” the attractive woman, clearly uncomfortable with the coming confrontation, said, “I’m going to go in if you don’t need me anymore tonight.”
“Of course, Lana,” Rob replied, “it’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” Lana purred softly before making her elegant departure. Meg had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at the woman’s red carpet worthy performance and the two men gawking at her pert little behind as she strolled away.
“And the Oscar goes to…” she mumbled.
“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Gorgeous asked.
“Christ,” she muttered as all the fight left her. “Forget it. I’m wet, cold, hungry, tired and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about any of this anymore. Bye,” she waved, well aware that her departure, unlike Lana’s, was less than stellar with water streaming off her now see-through pink blouse and linen pants, mud squishing between the toes of the sandals she had foolishly donned in the Florida airport, and her mass of curly blond hair dripping wet and hanging in her face.
“Miss,” the elegant man named Rob called out to her, but Meg kept walking. The end of her hellish day was in sight and nothing was going to stop her from soaking in a nice hot bath, crawling between the soft cotton sheets of her king-sized bed, and sleeping until noon.
The night clerk at the front desk seemed to take in her dirty, wet appearance with disdain before asking, “May I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes,” Meg replied, rummaging through her damp bag for her hotel confirmation number. “I have a reservation. My name is Meg Williams. I have the confirmation number here somewhere. Oh yes, here it is,” she said, pulling out the crumpled computer printout page with her reservation information.
Glancing at his computer, then at her paper and then back at the computer, the man’s earlier haughtiness disappeared before he tugged at his collar and sighed heavily. Meg closed her eyes and waited for the words she’d heard so many times today.
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Williams. There seems to be a problem with your reservation.”
“Of course there is,” she answered woodenly. “Let me guess, my name isn’t in your computer and you don’t have any more rooms.”
Flushing, the man replied, “Well, actually, yes, that’s true. You have to understand Cupid’s Carnival is our busiest weekend.”
“Save it,” Meg cut him off with her hand. “Are there any other hotels nearby?”
“There are,” the man began, stumbling before adding, “however--,”
“They’re all booked too,” Meg answered for him.
“There isn’t a single vacancy on the island,” he replied apologetically.
Looking around, Meg spotted the hotel bar.
“How late is the bar open?” she asked quietly.
“Until 3 a.m.,” the clerk answered, clearly surprised by the fact she wasn’t arguing more.
Numb and exhausted beyond belief, Meg merely nodded before walking away. All the fight had been beaten out of her. Paradise Island had officially kicked her ass. Dragging her shoulder bag on the ground behind her, she trudged toward the bar, unable to think beyond the drink she was going to order.