His lips left hers reluctantly, coming back to sip again before he deftly took her hand and began to lead her inside. Her mind stopped spinning enough for her to pull up. She wouldn’t be distracted again. Before he swept her up into the clouds again they needed to talk. He needed to know this was no run-of-the-mill holiday fling. She needed to lay her cards on the table and own up to who she was … or at least who she wasn’t.
When she stopped, he stopped too, a frown tugging at his brows. Then he shook his head as if to clear it.
“I’m an idiot.” He swooped her up into his arms. “I forgot your ankle. I’ll carry you.”
Nina fought the impulse to hold onto him. His no-argument brand of chivalry was intoxicating, but … “My ankle’s fine.”
He wasn’t listening. Instead he moved with her towards the open cabin door.
He stepped over the threshold, and a sense of déjà vu filtered through her. Had so much time passed since that sudden rainstorm yesterday? They were here again, standing in the exact same spot, and he was just as imposing and commanding and delicious as ever.
But he wasn’t heading for the bed. He was looking down at her with a mix of desire and depth and …
Trust?
She cleared the lump from her throat and took a breath. Now or never.
“Last night,” she began, “you asked if I wanted to stay.”
He nodded.
She blew out a breath. “Well, Gabriel—see, it’s like this—”
“You want to go back to the resort, don’t you?” His jaw tightened. “You’re missing the spa tubs and silver service.”
“God, no. That’s not it at all.”
His brows snapped together. “You don’t like the resort?”
“If you really want to know …” She scrunched her nose and shook her head. Not a bit.
A pulse in his cheek started to tick and his jaw shifted to one side. “So what’s wrong with it?”
Nina was taken aback. That stony look and tone … Suddenly he seemed so serious. About her dislike of the resort?
He’d said he’d taken this cabin to get away from it all. She’d believed him. But his questions and the intense glint in his eye didn’t sit with his carefree “escape into the wilderness” story. Something didn’t add up.
He wanted to know what was wrong with the resort?
She quizzed him. “Maybe you should tell me?”
He blinked several times before his chin tucked in. “Why would I do that?”
“Because I’m getting the feeling you don’t like Diamond Shores so much either.”
His pupils dilated, swallowing the pale irises until his eyes appeared almost black. “I’m simply interested.”
He crossed the room, sat her on the chair, but she stood straight back up.
His ears were pink with irritation, and there was a weird, distant look in his eye. She wasn’t mistaken. There was far more to his questions than simple interest. Did he trust her enough to tell her what was wrong?
Maybe if she gave him a chance to thaw out?
She collected the bottle off the counter to make two strong coffees. But when she screwed the lid it wouldn’t budge. She clamped the bottle under one arm and twisted hard. Stuck fast.
In the meantime, Gabriel had frowned over. “Are you staying on the island with friends?”
She sighed. If only.
She took a hesitant step nearer. He sounded so gruff. “Why do you want to know?”
“Because I need to know what people are saying. What they’re thinking.”
When he thumped his fist against the wall she jumped. Then he growled under his breath, something about, “… hiding out here … playing Huck Finn … should be back there, making changes …”
With worry choking off her breath, she slowly brought the bottle close to her chest. “Gabriel … what are you talking about?”
Letting out a defeated breath, he sank into the chair.
“I bought this island a week ago,” he ground out. “It’s on the brink of bankruptcy, and I’m here to make sure everything and everyone who doesn’t perform is eliminated.” He lifted his chin. “Pronto.”
The coffee bottle slipped from her hands, smashed, and shattered to pieces. As the crash ricocheted off the walls, Gabriel shot to his feet. The way Nina’s face had paled, the way her hands clutched at her throat, she might have thrown a javelin that had missed his heart by an inch.
She stared blindly at the mess at her feet, then fixed her huge topaz-coloured eyes on his.
“I broke the bottle,” she croaked out, and when her lashes blinked he thought he saw her eyes glisten.
This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. He hadn’t wanted three cheers, but owning Diamond Shores wasn’t chickenfeed. Or it wasn’t to him. His announcement was at least worth a sentence or two of recognition. Still, God knew how much Nina’s family was worth. Owning an island might well seem inconsequential to many of the guests who stayed here.
He ground his back teeth and ploughed a hand through his hair. It frustrated the hell out of him. Regardless of how far he’d come, there were still times when he felt like someone’s poor relation.
Nina was concentrating on the mess on the floor, as if she couldn’t get her mind around how to clean it up.
Rubbing the back of his neck, he moved forward. “Don’t worry about that.” There was more to worry about than an old broken bottle.
But she didn’t seem to hear. Instead her hands covered her face. “Oh, God, what a mess.”
He took her hands from her cheeks.
“It’s okay,” he said more gently. “I’ll get someone in to clean it up.” But she wound out of his hold, stooped and began to pick up the pieces. He hunkered down and eased the glass from her hand. “You don’t need to do that.” When she collected another piece, he held her wrist. “Nina, I’ll get a maid in from the resort.”
Biting her lip, she stood and spun away, her hands bracing the counter. “We should go. We should go now.”
He tugged an earlobe and groaned.
Okay. He had an idea what was wrong.
Stepping closer, he cupped her shoulders. “Don’t be embarrassed. Yes, I own the island, but I’m glad you told me how unhappy you are with the resort.”
When he’d arrived three days ago he’d introduced himself to key people but had insisted that his true identity be kept from the rest of the staff. He wanted to experience April’s wedding and the resort incognito. He’d also made it clear he needed to be informed of every suggestion for improvements and all complaints.
After he’d jogged to the resort this morning, to bring back some wheels, he’d dropped in to his bungalow and had been greeted by an avalanche of messages. Various managers wanted his ear. One guest had complained he’d been injured—the result of an incompetent ski-boat driver. A celebrity wedding had been cancelled; the bride had heard rumours regarding “off” seafood. The music at the nightclub wasn’t exciting enough. The