Caribbean Christmas

Dedication

For Rogue, the Wonderdawg, who listened to every story I wrote. This was our last one together. I love you, black dog. Thank you for sharing twelve years with us.

Chapter One

“Dutch isn’t here?” Saskia Vanderbrogen gave a quiet chuckle and set her crocheted bag on top of the duffle she’d rolled all the way from the dock. She’d been impulsive and bought a last-minute ticket to the Caribbean to see her father for Christmas since he’d seemed allergic to leaving Anguilla for the last few years. And he’d made other plans.

So much for her Christmas surprise.

“Do you know when he’ll be back?” She leaned on the countertop hewn from an old ship’s hull, and surveyed the interior of her father’s charter sailing business. Aside from a few new pictures on the walls, nothing had changed. He’d built the storefront from discarded boat parts, creating a one-of-a-kind charm.

The two older men playing dominos at a table behind the counter looked up like they’d forgotten she was there. She recognized Benny and Ronald instantly, but they stared at her blankly. That hurt. For most of her life she’d been the only redhead on the small island. Even if she’d changed in the last eight years, the hair should have been a clue. Not to mention the freckles, long legs and knobby knees. She tugged her braids forward over her shoulders and cleared her throat.

“Dutch? When do you expect him back?”

“Two days, give or take,” Ronald replied, running a hand over his bald head.

“Left at daybreak for Sombrero with a bunch of biologists studying the turtles.”

Her mind flashed back to when her father had taken her diving off the mile-long rock shaped like its namesake hat. The uninhabited island had none of the beauty of its neighbors, instead it barely stood high enough to miss being washed over by the northern swells. The dystopian surface seemed to belong on the moon, but the sea teemed with vibrant life.

She smiled, the memory telling her she’d been right to jump on the last- minute airline sale. Her father would be back soon, and she’d still have a few days to enjoy with him before having to return to Miami.

Buddy laid his last domino on the table and whistled, slapping a meaty hand against his cargo shorts. Ronald rubbed his hand over the dark dome of his head as he stood, obviously losing the game of who had to help the customer.

“What can I help you with, miss?” He looked at her like she was any other tourist, not the girl who’d spent her childhood running though the building.

“Do you think you could call my dad and let him know I’m here?” Her cheeks lifted as his dark gaze focused on her and Buddy knocked over his chair in his effort to make his way up front.

“Sassy? Little Sassy?” Buddy rounded the counter and she opened her arms for a hug. Instead, he lifted her off the ground, and her spirits soared.

“I was taller than you when we moved, Buddy. Now put me down.” She laughed as Ronald tugged one of her braids and wrapped her up in another warm embrace. “Think Dutch will be as shocked as you two?”

Buddy nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. Her heart clenched. It took a lot to make an old salt like Buddy feel much of anything.

“On second thought, is there a way to get him back here without letting him in on the surprise? I want to see his expression.” She stepped back, watching them stare at her. She was used to the looks. Had gotten them as the only redhead on the island, and then for her quirky style once she and her mother had moved to Florida. Her crocheted green tank and lace-trimmed cutoffs might be island wear, but the multi-colored handbag stuffed with yarn didn’t scream normal.

“We should tell Joe,” Buddy said, exchanging a glance with his friend. Before she could guess what
that
meant, Ronald sped out the backdoor faster than she’d ever seen the man move. She’d heard of Joe, the retiree her father had brought into the business after the last major hurricane had washed over the island a couple years back. Joe had deep pockets and had helped quite a few of the locals pick up the pieces.

The deeply tanned, blond Adonis who walked through the back door did not fit any of her preconceived notions of her father’s new friend. For one, his bare, muscled chest had her body perking up in ways it shouldn’t, and this retiree had to be closer to thirty than the sixty she’d expected. After all, everyone else who worked here was her dad’s age. Joe must have a sexy son.

His ice-blue gaze pored over her body in a rush of heat. Those eyes made her think of sex on the beach and silken sheets and all the passionate things she wanted to do but hadn’t dared try. Okay, so Joe Jr. was sex on legs. Every vacation could use a little eye candy.

She offered her hand. “Hi. I’m Saskia Vanderbrogen.”

He glanced at her hand and smiled, a perfect white grin. “We’ve met. Though you might have been too young to remember.”

She rubbed her damp palm on her shorts. “When was that?”

“Most summers since you were in diapers. I think the last time was when you were about twelve, had your hair in braids then too.” His eyes seemed to laugh at some kind of private joke.

“Can’t say you made the same kind of impression on me, since it’s not ringing any bells.” She touched one braid, suddenly self-conscious of the youthful style.

“And to think you said you’d love me forever. I will never again trust the word of an eight-year-old.” He placed a large hand over his gorgeous chest in mock hurt. “Johannes Prinsen, Sebastian’s son.”

Things started to click into place She recalled her father’s best friend often bringing his sons with him on visits. They were teenagers, more interested in the surf or sailing than a dreamy, awkward girl. Still, Johannes had been the nicest of the three, once rescuing her when she’d fallen off her surfboard and it had clunked her on the head. Her heart stalled in her chest, feeling like it might explode as it remembered to beat. He was the first man she’d ever seen naked. Not that he knew that. He’d been showering and she’d been curious. She swallowed, trying to climb atop the anxiety.

“You’re Joe, the retiree?” She’d been too young to think of him as more than a fairy-tale prince charming then, but now he inspired a whole other kind of fantasy.

“I retired early to be a beach bum.” He rubbed at the back of his neck, his biceps bunching at the movement.

“Everyone has to have a goal, I suppose. The guys thought you might know how to get my father back here without spoiling the surprise.” She’d never thought of Anguilla as being sexy, but then she’s been a child. Somehow, with this drool-worthy specimen in front of her, the island held all kinds of adult possibilities. At least for her daydreams.

“How long are you here? He’ll be back on Sunday morning. It’s a very lucrative charter, and no one knows the research vessel better than Dutch.”

She covered her disappointment with a smile. Her father had been too busy to visit, so she’d expected him to have to work. Just not on an entirely other island. “Sunday will be great. He always calls then, and now he’ll be able to see me in person.”

Joe nodded. “Where are you staying?”

She tilted her head to the side. “With my dad.”

The three men exchanged uncomfortable glances and shrugs.

“Is something wrong?” She slung her bag across her body and then toyed with the strap.

“No problem at all,” Joe said with a smile. “I’ll take you up there.” He reached for her duffle, lifting it effortlessly before she could protest.

“I know where it is. I lived there, remember? You can get back to whatever it was you were doing.”

“Wouldn’t think of it. Dutch would want me to make sure you get settled in.”

“But the ferry just came in. I don’t want you to have to turn away business on my account.” It was only a quarter mile to her dad’s house, but the bag was heavy. She couldn’t say she looked forward to dragging it up the dirt path. If he wanted to shoulder it, she’d let him.

“We don’t get walk-ins. Hotel concierges keep us plenty busy. Buddy and Ronald are both doing sailings at sunset, but I’m at your service.” He gave her a perfect toothpaste-commercial smile, looking sexier than any man should unless he was part of a beefcake calendar.

“Let’s get going then.” She hoped she wouldn’t get him in too much trouble when she told her father he’d left work without a thought to bringing in business. He was awfully cute, after all.

Chapter Two

Joe followed Sassy’s toned ass up the hill to his house, reminding himself with each step that no matter how amazing her long legs looked in cutoffs, she was Dutch’s daughter. His only child, and adored with a love that made it hard to believe she’d become an adult. Her father found everything Sass did magical enough to tell the world about.

But then, Dutch obviously hadn’t told his daughter much of his current reality. Like that he’d sold the house and business to Joe to cover his losses from the hurricane that had devastated the island three years ago. Joe wasn’t about to be the one to break the news to her. No, that had to come from Dutch himself.

He knew firsthand how delicate the parent-child relationship could be. He didn’t want his friend’s relationship with his daughter to fracture the way his had with his own father.

“I’d forgotten just how gorgeous it is here.” She stopped and stepped off the path, opening her arms wide as a warm gust of wind rolled over them. Wisps of her deep red hair brushed against her freckled cheeks and the fringe of her green tank top fluttered against the creamy-white skin of her belly. “I wish I were a photographer. The view of Rendezvous Bay from here would make a gorgeous postcard.”

“Beautiful,” he said, not meaning the view. Damn it, why couldn’t she have stayed as gangly and annoying as he remembered her? “The Estate has some great postcards if you’re interested.”

She looked back at him, her hot-pink sunglasses seeming too big for her delicate features. “How is the island handling the new resort?”

“Well. They’ve been careful about the planning, keeping it exclusive to give guests the privacy they desire. We’re not trying to compete with St. John’s. Nightclubs and casinos are their game, not ours.”

“Did you invest in the resort too?” she asked, starting back up the path.

He wondered how much she knew about his investments. Did she know he bailed her father out of near bankruptcy? Probably not, since she was so surprised to see him. And if the bulging bag full of string was any indication, she seemed to have grown into one of those creative types. Not likely to be impressed by how he’d managed to double a considerable fortune by buying properties distressed by the hurricanes and repairing them.

Joe shook his head. He didn’t need to impress her. If she was anything like her mother, she’d bail the second she heard Dutch couldn’t write her a check with plenty of zeroes. “Only locals are allowed to invest in the Estate. I’ve been here a couple of years, but they’re not opening it to outsiders.”

“Dutch thinks the Estate will be a real income generator for the island. Maybe even create enough jobs for some of the Anguillans living abroad to come home.”

It had better be. Dutch had everything riding on being able to make enough on the development to reclaim his properties. Not that Joe ever had any intention of keeping them for himself. Dutch was like a father to him, which meant he needed to keep his eyes above her freckled shoulders, not on the lithe body beneath. “The government is still recovering, but it should be ready to approve everything for phase two soon.”

She paused, turning around to face him. “They haven’t started building the hotel?”

He shook his head. “Just the private villas and main buildings. The hurricane shifted everyone’s priorities.”

“I hadn’t realized it had been that bad. Dutch must have downplayed it so I wouldn’t worry.” She shrugged and continued over the rise.

If she didn’t know her father had lost two dozen boats and suffered repairs on the house that had drained his life savings, downplay was an understatement.

As the two-story Victorian home came into view, she let out a giggle and broke into a run, her bulging bag bouncing against her as she neared the hammock and rolled onto it. “Home sweet home.” She leveraged up and looked at him as he neared. “I used to nap in this hammock every afternoon. It’s one of the few shady spots on the island.”

The leafy mahogany trees dappled their shadows across her pale skin, protecting her from the glaring sun. She seemed to fit perfectly in the space, as if it had been made for her. He figured it might have been.