Just Another Day in Paradise Read online

  Except for the one student she’d known was going to be a problem from the beginning, a certain angry, recalcitrant fifteen-year-old. Kyle alone sapped at her energy, and she wasn’t sure she was up to adding twenty-six other kids into the mix. But she had no choice.

  After one final glance over her schedules and plans, she gathered everything up and put it into her tote bag. It would take about five minutes for her to walk to the main building from their bungalow. She’d let him pick it out from the ones available for staff, hoping it would make him less resistant to being here. It hadn’t helped much—she suspected he’d picked this one because it was farthest from the schoolhouse and would be the most inconvenient for her.

  But she’d taken his choice gracefully, exclaiming on the lovely view of the water and closeness to the perfect beach, as if it were the one she would have chosen herself. That her reaction only made him angrier seemed proof of her suspicions, and she knew then that when you came to paradise, you could still carry your own hell with you.

  Rider studied himself in the mirror for a moment, decided his tie was even enough, and reached for his suit coat. Later he would change into more casual clothes. He’d found it helped loosen people up, that they talked more easily to a guy in jeans or khakis. Maybe he’d even pull out that Hawaiian-style shirt Josh had given him. He’d thought at the time the shirt was a joke, but then wondered if maybe it was his boss’s way of telling him once more to lighten up and relax. Of course, it had been Josh who’d had him on the run for three months straight, bouncing all over the globe to keep up with various projects.

  He rubbed at his eyes, knowing he’d need about ten hours’ sleep to help the redness. But other than that he looked fairly presentable now that he’d had a shower and tried out the hotel barber, who had arrived a couple of days ago to set up shop and get the staff in shape. Not that Josh cared how you wore your hair, as long as it was clean and neat. Rider had seen the single photograph that had survived from the founder of Redstone’s mysterious youth, and the teenager with the intense eyes and the long mane of dark hair didn’t seem all that far removed from the business powerhouse Rider knew now.

  He stepped outside his room just as Barry Rutherford, the cherub-faced, slightly fussy project manager, was arriving.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet you, Mr. Rider. I’ll show you to the dining room,” he said formally, referring to the large room utilized by the staff. Redstone Bay was specifically designed not to handle conferences or large meetings, it was for people to get away and unwind.

  “Just ‘Rider,’ please, Barry,” he said. “And I probably can find it. I think I had the plans memorized before construction even started.” He gave Barry a crooked grin. “Let me try, anyway, since you’re here to save me if I get lost.”

  Barry smiled tentatively this time when he spoke. “I really am sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived.”

  “What fire were you putting out?” Rider asked with another grin, this time one of commiseration and understanding.

  “A small one, really. Our facilities director was called home for an emergency, and I had to assign someone to handle the job.”

  Rider headed down the hall toward the elevator. “Will he be back in time?”

  “I don’t know, I’m afraid. It’s something to do with the problems on Arethusa. So I’m going to work out a schedule to cover in case he’s unable to return right away.”

  “Good,” Rider said with a nod, although he was frowning inwardly. Suddenly Arethusa didn’t seem quite so distant.

  But the resort itself was looking good. True, there were materials scattered about and workers scurrying, but he was used to that. He’d learned long ago to look past the surface chaos and see truly how close they were to being ready. And Redstone Bay was close.

  “What’s hanging besides polish work?” he asked.

  “Nothing, really,” Barry said proudly. “All the major projects are done.”

  “What about off-site? The staff housing, the school?”

  “The only bungalows not completed are the ones where the occupants can’t make up their minds what color they want,” Barry said with a chuckle. “The school was finished last month, and is already in operation.”

  “Any changes?”

  He shook his head. “None needed. Somebody spec’ed it out perfectly.”

  Rider wondered if the man was trying to butter him up; he must know Rider had been the one who had made the final changes on the plans and equipment list for the small schoolhouse.

  “The man’s a bit manic about education,” Rider said, referring to the passion all of Josh’s people knew about.

  “It keeps people happy, being able to work here and keep their kids with them.”

  “And Redstone likes happy people,” Rider intoned, quoting the mantra that they all laughed at but lived by, knowing that as far as employers went they were with one of the best. The formula Josh had stuck to for years still worked; he hired top-notch people, paid them well and let them run.

  Rider found his way to the dining room as easily as he’d hoped. It was nearly full; the staff would eat at different times, so it would rarely be this packed again. Rider declined Barry’s offer to introduce him to the gathered crowd, many of whom had noticed their entrance and suspended conversation.

  “I don’t want this to be that formal,” he explained. “I’m not the boss checking up on the employees.”

  Barry nodded. “Here’s the roster,” he said, handing Rider a small sheaf of papers. “And your master cardkey.” Rider took the papers and slipped the key into a pocket; he knew the key, which would override any lock in the resort, was the symbol that the project manager considered all parts of the hotel ready for official inspection. It had become a tradition of sorts, and Rider knew that as long as he got that key within eight hours of his arrival, chances were things would be okay.

  He stepped up to the small podium. It didn’t take long for the silence to spread. When they were all watching him he said, “I’m Noah Rider, the project coordinator, and I’m here to tell you if you don’t like the uniforms, it’s too late.”

  Laughter rippled through the room, as he’d hoped it would; they’d all had a chance to give their input and vote on what the uniforms should be.

  “I haven’t had much time to look around yet,” he went on, “but what I can see looks good. That’s not to say there aren’t some problems, there always are. That’s what I’m here to help with. But everything’s coming together nicely, you’ve all obviously done your jobs well, and Redstone Bay is lucky to have you.”

  A burst of cheers and whistles greeted that.

  “That said, anyone have any problems that need to be dealt with before opening day?”

  “We need a new movie service,” somebody called out. “This one just runs the same old stuff over and over.”

  Rider grinned. “Just so happens I brought along a really big satellite dish. Anybody know how to set one of those puppies up?”

  Laughter and cheers met that as well. When no other complaints arose, he nodded in satisfaction.

  On some other level of his mind, beneath the part that was handling the speaking task, he registered that there was a redhead in the back row. She snagged his attention, as any woman with hair of that particular rich, autumn-leaves shade did. Even after five years.

  It wasn’t that he thought about it a lot. It was not, after all, his finest hour, and he didn’t like dwelling on it. In fact, in a life that held few regrets, that one woman stood as an eternal torch of reproach.

  He shook off the memory and began again, scanning the room, trying to make eye contact with everyone. “I hope to meet with you all over the next ten days, and I want you to feel free to bring up anything you want. Some of the best ideas come from you, out on the front line, and that’s what I’m here for.”

  It was a motivational statement, Rider knew, but it was also true, and Redstone believed in it. And the staff responded, nodding as they tur
ned and glanced at each other. There was a reason Redstone was consistently in the top ten on lists of best places to work.

  “Doesn’t matter if it’s business or personal, I—”

  Rider was only vaguely aware he’d stopped talking. Or that he was staring. A beefy, broad-shouldered man had shifted in his seat, giving Rider a full view of the woman with the coppery hair.

  It can’t be.

  She sat there at the very back table, staring down at folders in front of her. He silently urged her to look up, to face him so he could be sure. But she didn’t. Or wouldn’t. And he was sure, anyway. He knew he couldn’t mistake the long, thick braid of hair, the line of her cheekbones, the tilt of her nose. He knew if she looked up, her eyes would be that rich, cinnamon-brown. He knew it.

  But it can’t be.

  He lifted the now-forgotten page of statistics and grabbed at the personnel roster Barry had given him. He scanned it quickly and let out a sigh of relief; her name wasn’t there. It was a fluke, just a resemblance. He’d reacted out of guilt, that’s all.

  Steady again, he moved to slip the roster back beneath his page of notes. It snagged on something, and he reached to free it from the small piece of paper stapled to the back of the roster.

  He glimpsed the last few words on the note before his page pulled clear. He grabbed at it, tearing it loose from the staple. And there it was, immutable and real. The news that the teacher had arrived nearly a month ago to get the island school up and running before the opening. The teacher. Paige Cooper.

  He’d hoped never to see her again. He’d hungered to see her again. He’d never resolved the contradiction. And now the contradiction was sitting in front of him.

  The only woman who had ever made him throw whatever decency and common sense he had out the window.

  The only woman who could shame him with just a look.

  The only woman who had ever made him ache for her in so many ways he couldn’t even count them all.

  Paige Cooper, sitting there, refusing to look at him, reminding him all the more of what he’d done the last time he’d seen her. He remembered his earlier assessment, and decided he must have really ticked off whatever god was in charge of his fate at the moment.

  The ship he’d thought was going to have a smooth sailing had just encountered a reef.

  Chapter 2

  He had a roomful of people staring at him, and Rider couldn’t for the life of him remember what he’d been going to say. He wasn’t at a total loss often enough to have learned how to deal with it well, so he knew he was fumbling now. He took refuge in the numbers and details he could spout without thought and began the rundown while his mind raced.

  He shouldn’t have been so surprised. It was a very Joshua-like thing to do, to hire the widow of one of his people. Especially since Phil Cooper had been killed while working for Redstone. Even though the man hadn’t been one of Redstone’s hires originally—he’d been a vice president of a purchased company—Josh didn’t make a habit of wholesale firings at new acquisitions.

  I would have fired him, Rider thought, anger spiking even after all this time. But he knew his feelings were biased. The Redstone investigation into Cooper’s death had been, as usual, thorough and deep. In fact, the deepest one he’d ever seen, because the plane had been brought down over Portugal by a terrorist bomb. After five years they still didn’t know exactly who had done it, they’d only succeeded in narrowing down the possibilities. And discovering that Cooper had left his widow in unpleasant, if not dire, straits.

  Rider knew the truth about why Phil Cooper had been on that plane. If he hadn’t, he would have felt only a vague sorrow at the death of a man he’d hardly known. And only a pity-tinged sympathy for his wife.

  But instead…

  With an effort he shoved his thoughts aside. He finished acknowledging the impressive list of things accomplished since construction had started. And finally remembered where he’d been before he’d gotten derailed.

  “As I was saying before jet lag caught up with me,” he joked, “whatever you have to say, I’m here to listen. Those of you who have worked for Redstone, you know I mean it. Those of you who are just starting out, welcome.”

  He started to move away from the podium, then turned back. “Oh, did I mention the party? We’ll be having it two days before the opening.” He managed a grin. “Two days, because we expect you to enjoy it so much it’ll take that long to clean up for the opening.”

  A rather raucous round of applause greeted that statement, loudest from those who had worked at a Redstone resort before and knew that they definitely knew how to throw a party.

  Rider waved in recognition of the good cheer and left the small lectern. The moment his mind was freed from the task of conducting the meeting, it leaped back to the subject he’d tried to suppress.

  Paige Cooper. Here. Unavoidably here.

  He let out a compressed breath. He’d long ago given up trying to convince himself that what he’d felt five years before was just sympathy. He’d felt a lot more than that. And what he’d felt had led him to actions so uncharacteristic that he’d shocked himself. He still couldn’t quite believe it.

  And if his reaction just now was any indication, those feelings had only been in hibernation.

  His smooth-sailing ship, he thought grimly, had just run aground.

  I should have known, Paige moaned inwardly. How could it not have even occurred to me that it would be him?

  She barely managed to gather up her papers, and nearly dropped the tote bag in her haste. She dodged out of the dining room and headed for the outer door at the fastest pace she could manage without running and drawing attention. Once outside she slowed, pressing her fingers to her face, wishing for an icy-cold breeze. Her fingers were cooler than her overheated cheeks, but not cool enough. Ice, she thought. Ice would be good.

  “You idiot,” she muttered to herself. “You’re such a fool.”

  She knew, had known even back then, that Noah Rider was one of Redstone’s premiere point men. That he ran all over the world, setting up new operations, finalizing things. So why on earth hadn’t she realized there was a good chance the exec sent to oversee the final stages of Redstone Bay would be him? True, she’d been busy, her classes had started barely a week after she’d arrived so the kids would be in the routine by the time the resort opened, so there had been little chance for her to hear his name mentioned, but still—

  “Paige? You all right?” Miranda Mayfield, head of technical services and mother of two of her students, put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Fine. Thank you.” She sounded completely unconvincing, even to herself. Miranda looked doubtful, and Paige tried to pull herself together. “It must have been the crowd,” she said. “I’ve gotten used to the quiet here.”

  Miranda smiled. “It is that, isn’t it? Almost makes up for those rascals you’re trying to teach.”

  Paige managed a smile. “They’re good kids.” Except for mine, at the moment, she amended silently.

  “They like you. And you’re giving attention to all of them, despite the difference in ages. All the parents are pleased. We know that can’t be easy to accomplish.”

  “Thank you,” Paige said again, meaning it this time. It was sweet of Miranda to tell her that.

  When the woman had gone, Paige took in a deep breath of the balmy air. She was steadier now. Steady enough to marvel at how shaken she had felt just moments ago.

  But perhaps it wasn’t so surprising. Not when she’d just been faced with the man who’d inspired her to the most impulsive thing she’d ever done in her generally traditional life. Her husband’s body not even brought home yet, and she’d shared a passionate embrace with a man she barely knew. An embrace that could easily have led to more, had the arrival of her son not interrupted them. Her recollection of that time wasn’t clear, was mercifully lost in a sort of fog, but that one vivid, shocking memory was forever seared into her mind.

  She had been able, since
then, to rationalize her actions. Given the circumstances—all of them—she obviously hadn’t been herself. But there was no analyzing away her reaction to the man. What she’d done, practically throwing herself at him, might have arisen out of her emotional state, but her response to him, to his mouth, to his hands on her, had been purely physical and unlike anything she’d ever known before or since.

  And if she’d succeeded over the past five years in pushing him out of her mind, it had been made clear to her just now that her body remembered him perfectly. So perfectly it had nearly forgotten how to breathe when he’d walked into the room.

  It made no sense. She knew who he was, what he was, that he was a globe-trotter of epic proportion. That alone should be enough to send her scurrying; she’d been down that road once and still carried the scars. But instead she had been drawn, aware not only of the piercing blue of his eyes and the male strength of his jaw but the empathy she’d seen in his eyes and the gentle touch of hands that somehow seemed to ease the pain.

  And if the jump of her heart just now and the pounding that had followed when she had realized it really was him were any indication, she was still drawn. Powerfully. Painfully.

  Foolishly. That above all. Noah Rider was many things, including good-looking, smart, trusted by the shrewd and brilliant Joshua Redstone, and a high-powered executive, just as her late husband had been. What he was not was a man for a woman like her. Or perhaps any woman. She’d heard his work came first, last and in between.

  She heard the door open behind her again and wished she’d gone before the motherly Miranda had come back to check on her again. With a “Really, I’m fine” on her lips she began to turn. But she froze; the footsteps she heard did not belong to the petite, usually high-heeled Miranda. They were heavier, more solid. Male. Yes, definitely male.