Page 6 of Nothing to Do

“I haven’t met your big star. No one has taken my picture, and I haven’t been asked anything. The release is irrelevant until any of that happens.” He thought about it for a few seconds then seemed to calm down. “Okay? Can I go now?” He nodded. “Thank you.”

The hotel faced the beach. The lot where they’d arrived in their carts was tucked in at the side of the building. It wouldn’t do much for the view to have a big, ugly circle of concrete between the serene pools and lush greenery that separated their flagship building from the beach. She got it.

Tom was right. A cart awaited her outside, driver and all.

“Honi,” he said, wearing a broad smile.

“Thea.”

“Good to meet you, ma’am.”

She sat down, and he got moving. There wasn’t really time for small talk. Absorbing the sights and sounds of the tropical place required all her attention. Did people get used to living there? In the city, it was easy to forget the culture and significance of the environment when it was gray and dull, even in the sun, it all seemed dreary. It couldn’t be the same there. Somewhere like that, so lush and green, it had to be a treat every minute.

The track to the corporate suite, at the north of the island, split off the same curving road they’d traveled from the airstrip. Maybe that same road ran around the whole island.

They stopped and she hopped out.

She should’ve been better prepared and fumbled around in her bag for her wallet. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

With a wave, Honi drove off without waiting for a tip.

Huh.

Trees offered some welcome shade in her approach to the back of the corporate suite. At least, she guessed that’s what the building was, Honi hadn’t confirmed it.

Inside, stairs led up left and right from a small foyer. Straight ahead, one of two double doors was open. The view of the ocean beyond that room beckoned.

The crash of the waves lightened her soul. The broad room led out to some kind of wide terrace with loungers. A perfect place to work.

View in her sights, she headed through the doors to—the intrusion of another figure in her peripheral vision stopped her dead.

A person. She hadn’t even considered someone else might be there. Surprised, she stood there, saying nothing.

On his feet, behind a desk with shelves at his back, the guy mirrored her in silence and stance. Maybe he was waiting for an explanation; she had just walked in on him. Wearing board shorts and a casual button-down only partially buttoned over a tee-shirt, he wasn’t like desk jockeys back home. But then, who would be comfortable in a suit or tie in that environment?

“Tom…” she started, pleased to have at least remembered how to talk. “At the desk…” Raising her fist, she jabbed a straight thumb toward the door. “In the hotel said I could…” Her thumb curled in as her forefinger sprang out. “I can go upstairs.”

“You’re the scrappy wanderer.”

Confused, she blinked her wide eyes. “I’m… I’m what?”

“The beach last night… That was you.”

What was he…? Oh wow. Took her a second, but yeah… Words failed her again. The guy in the surf last night. She’d paid more attention to his body because his features were difficultto pick out in the moonlight. Yeah, that was the reason. After he’d made the connection, she got it, his shape, the height, the breadth of his shoulders…

“You’re… the driftwood…”

He smiled. Wow, damn, that was… unfair. Any animosity she held for the guy who’d startled her with his rudeness dwindled in the light of that killer smile.

“Carried in from the sea,” he said, nodding. “Yeah, I guess it probably did look like that.” What should she say? “I see now you were telling the truth.”

She was ten steps behind. “About what?”

“Last night,” he conceded. “I thought you were looking for Roman.”

Oh, her mouth opened, exhaling understanding. So Roman was the enigmatic “he” the driftwood referenced.

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