An Innocent in Paradise (4 page)

Okay, he was hot, all right. But as she pushed past a giant fern, Grace gave herself a good talking-to. It didn't matter whether Logan was hot or not. He was her boss and Grace had no business thinking of him that way. All she needed from Logan Sutherland was his approval of her work in the cocktail lounge, nothing more.

She forced all thoughts of Logan away and got to work, backtracking to the palm trees where she'd found spores yesterday. Close to the base of each tree, she pounded a
discreet wooden marker into the sand so she would know the trees from which she'd already extracted specimens. She planned to remove the stakes on her last day here; but, until then, they would provide a handy map for her to follow.

An hour later, she left the palm trees behind and headed back to the hotel. After running into the staff commissary to grab a sandwich, she returned to her room to document her findings and refrigerate several more petri dishes filled with fresh specimens. She showered and dressed for work, happy she'd been assigned to the swing shift from two o'clock to ten. The bar stayed open until three in the morning and the servers on the late shift got the best tips, but Grace preferred to wake up early and go to bed relatively early.

As she walked through the lobby toward the cocktail lounge, she passed a pretty young woman sitting on one of the smooth rocks that surrounded the tropical waterfall, crying. Grace paused, wondering if she should say something. Would the management frown on a cocktail waitress approaching a hotel guest? Did it matter? The woman was clearly distressed, so Grace went with her instincts and walked over to the woman.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

The woman looked up and pressed her lips together to stop from blubbering in front of a stranger. “I'm fine.”

“We both know that's not true.” Grace sat next to her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Fresh tears dripped down her cheeks. “I'm on my honeymoon.”

“Then you should be happy, not sad,” Grace said.

“But…I can't talk about it.”

“Sure you can.” Grace patted her knee. “I'm not sure I can help, but I can certainly listen.”

 

Logan halted halfway across the lobby when he spotted Grace deep in conversation with one of the hotel guests. They sat by the tropical waterfall and he approached cautiously, not wanting to make a scene. But caution wasn't necessary. The women were so engrossed in their chat, they didn't notice him.

Grace was dressed for work in her bikini top and sarong, and Logan knew without checking his watch that her shift was about to begin. So what was she doing out here? He stepped closer.

“So if he spends more time right here at this spot,” Grace said, tapping her notepad with her pen, “I think you'll be very happy.”

The young woman took Grace's notepad and stared at some diagram she'd drawn. “Are you sure it's right there? He didn't seem to get anywhere near that spot.”

“But he will,” Grace said. She took the notepad, tore out the page with the diagram and handed it to the woman. “It'll make a big difference, I promise.”

“I hope so,” the woman said with a watery smile. “I don't want to spend my entire honeymoon crying.”

“I'm sure your husband doesn't want that, either.”

The woman hugged Grace, then jumped up. “You're so smart. Thank you.”

Grace looked at her wristwatch and stood. “Please let me know how it goes. I work in the cocktail lounge in the evening or you can find me on the beach most mornings.”

“I will.” She waved the piece of paper as she hurried away.

Grace waved, then turned toward the cocktail lounge—and gasped. “What are you doing here?”

“I own the place,” Logan said, folding his arms across his chest. “What was that all about?”

She fluttered her hands in the air. “Oh, nothing. Sorry I can't talk now. I have to get to work.”

“It's okay. I know the boss.” He grabbed hold of her arm. “You can be a few minutes late. Now tell me what's wrong with that woman. Did someone from the hotel bother her?”

“From the hotel? Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I swear it. She just had a…a little disagreement with her new husband. I saw her crying and I tried to comfort her.”

“That's it?” Logan glanced in the direction the woman had gone, then back at Grace. “Is she all right?”

“I think she'll be fine,” Grace said.

“Good,” he murmured. “That's good. I don't like to see my guests crying in the lobby.”

She nodded earnestly. “I can see how that would be a problem. But she's okay, I promise. Now I'd better get to work.”

“Fine.” Logan watched her walk all the way across the lobby and into the lounge. No doubt about it, the woman had a world-class backside and he itched to get his hands on her. He wasn't particularly happy about it because she was basically a pain in his neck. But as he walked back to his office, he resolved to seduce her as soon as possible. And then he'd kick her off his island.

 

“Six piña coladas, Joey,” Grace said, and wished she could sit down and rub her feet. Anyone who ever thought waitressing was an easy job should be forced to do it for a week wearing high heels.

“Coming up, Gracie girl,” Joey said.

She smiled at her coworkers' nickname for her. Nobody had ever called her Gracie until she arrived in Alleria. She
liked it. She'd never thought much about it before, but back home, everyone took her so seriously. A few people called her Grace, but usually she was addressed as Doctor Farrell. Even by her parents, who were completely intimidated by her title and her intelligence. Nobody here called her Doctor Farrell, thank goodness. They had no idea she had four PhD's and would probably laugh their butts off if they found out.

“Hunk alert at three o'clock,” said Dee, a pretty, dark-haired waitress from New Jersey, as she sidled up next to Grace.

Grace glanced at her watch. “What happens at three o'clock?”

Joey and Dee exchanged grins, then Dee put her arm around Grace and said, “Poor baby's led a sheltered life.”

“I guess I have,” Grace admitted.

Joey leaned over and whispered, “She's alerting you that the boss just walked in.”

“And he is looking hunk-a-diddly-dumptious,” Dee said, smacking her lips.

Grace laughed. “Oh, wait, three o'clock, I get it.” She turned to her right and saw Logan, then quickly turned back and tried not to show she was flustered. “Does he come in every night?”

“He usually stops in, but never stays long,” Dee said, then frowned. “Until recently, anyway. Last night he was here for a couple hours. Not sure what that's all about. I hope we're not getting laid off.”

“The place is filled to capacity every week, so nobody's getting laid off,” Joey said, then cast a less-than-subtle stare at Grace.

Dee frowned at him. “You think?”

“Oh, yeah,” Joey said as he opened a new bottle of rum.

“What?” Grace said, glancing from one to the other.

Dee raised both eyebrows. “Has the boss got his eye on you, Gracie girl?”

She grimaced. “He just wants to catch me making a mistake so he can fire me.”

“We'll make sure that doesn't happen, honey,” Dee said, patting her shoulder. “Although, I gotta say, if I caught the eye of someone that hunkalicious, I'm not sure I'd be able to keep my cool.” She waved a hand in front of her face. “Mmm-mmm. Is it getting hot in here or what?”

Grace elbowed her. “You're crazy.”

“I don't think so,” Dee said, chuckling.

“Here's your piña coladas, Gracie,” Joey said. “You need help with the tray?”

“You're sweet, but I've got it.”

“I'll say you've got it,” Joey said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. “Now work it.”

She laughed as she walked away with her drinks, fairly certain she'd never “worked it” in her life. But she was more than willing to try.

 

“I had three orgasms!” a woman cried.

Logan whipped around, shocked to recognize the young woman who'd been crying in the lobby yesterday afternoon. She had Grace wrapped in a fierce hug and she was jumping up and down.

Logan had just returned from an early-morning run up the peninsula and back. When he saw Grace walking toward the palmetto grove, he started to follow her, but her new best friend grabbed her first.

“Thank you, thank you,” the woman gushed. “You were so right! He found that spot and it was miraculous!”

Fascinating. Logan watched Grace glancing around the
beach, probably checking to see if anyone had overheard the effusive woman. When she spied Logan standing ten feet away, she shook her head and closed her eyes in resignation.

Grinning, Logan continued to observe the exchange with interest, listening to every word as the woman gleefully described her husband's successful foray. It was clear now that Grace had instructed the young honeymooner on how to make love with her new husband. Very interesting.

His gaze narrowed and focused on her. It appeared that all those years Grace Farrell had spent studying the sexual and reproductive habits of spores and other creatures—including humans, obviously—had given her a level of sexual expertise he wanted to explore.

The thought made him grit his teeth. He wanted her right now. It was taking every ounce of control he had to not drag her into the palmetto grove, back her up against a tree and give in to the desire he knew they both felt for each other.

Grace hugged the woman and congratulated her, then watched her skip away. Once she was gone, Grace turned to Logan. “I suppose you heard all that.”

“Pretty much.”

“It's not what you think.”

“Yeah?” he said. “Because I'm thinking you pretty much made her day. And night, apparently.”

“Yes, well.” She brushed her hair off her forehead, then fiddled with her sunglasses. “I didn't do anything she couldn't have… Well, I just…” She glanced up at the sky. “It's late. I really should get to my spores.”

“Wait.”

She froze and he took immediate advantage, stepping closer, invading her personal space.

“What is it, Logan? Is something wrong?” Her pink
tongue slid across her lush lips again and he almost groaned.

“If you lick your lips again,” he warned, “I'm going to haul you over my shoulder and take you to my room.”

She swallowed slowly. “I—I can't help it. You make me nervous.”

“Do I?”

She glared at him. “You know you do. And I think you do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, maybe I do.” He skimmed his fingers across her shoulder and was gratified when she shivered. “That was a nice thing you did for her.”

She tilted her head, clearly baffled. “You think so?”

“Yeah.” His smile grew. “Do you often go around explaining the G-spot to clueless women?”

“Um, no.” She shook her head slowly. “That was definitely a first.”

He studied her, taking notice of the small scar over her left eyebrow, another smattering of pale freckles on the upper ridges of her cheeks, the perfect cupid's bow of her upper lip. “What the hell makes you tick, Grace Farrell?”

Puzzled, she said, “I might ask the same of you.”

“Hey, I'm an open book.”

A frown line marred her brow. “Not to me.”

“The thing is,” he said, “I'm usually a pretty easygoing guy. But ever since you showed up, I've been feeling a little edgy.”

“That's not my fault,” she said heatedly, poking her finger at his chest. “And I'm not leaving the island.”

He grabbed her finger to stop the jabs. “It's not that kind of edgy.” He kept hold of her hand, rubbing his palm against hers, shaping it and molding it to his.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Awareness had her licking her lips again and a bolt of pure heat lit up his insides.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

“This.” He leaned forward and kissed her, wrapping his hand around her nape to press her closer to him. Her mouth was as sweet as anything he'd ever tasted and he had to fight to keep the contact light. But his control was slipping as the heat of her body invaded his own. Visions of her lush, naked skin danced through his mind and he groaned.

He would've stopped, but a delicious sigh escaped her throat and her lips parted for him. He plunged inside her warmth and her tongue met his instantly, eagerly. Logan felt his heartbeat stagger and every muscle in his body hardened with need.

He wanted her, wanted to strip her clothes off and touch her breasts, her thighs, her slick core. He wanted his hands and mouth on every inch of her body. Now.

The images jarred him back to reality and he remembered they were standing outside in view of anyone who walked by. That's when he pulled back, but not completely. He took his time, kissing the corners of her mouth, her cheeks, the line of her jaw, the silky length of her neck.

“Let's go to my room,” he murmured against her skin, then took her hand and started walking back to the hotel.

She stopped and pulled her hand away. “I can't do that. I have to go.”

He turned and looked at her. “No you don't.”

“I do. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…” She paused to catch her breath. “You don't know me.”

“No,” he said carefully. “But I do know you want me and I want you.”

She looked so serious. “You don't, really.”

“You're wrong, Grace,” he said, reaching for her.

She put both hands up to stop him. “If you really knew me, you never would've kissed me. You would've run for the hills.” She took two steps backward. “I'm saving you the trouble.”

“Nice of you.”

“Oh, you have no idea.” Then she gave a firm nod. “It's definitely best that we stop right now.”