He flashed a grin and took her hand, leading her down the sturdy wooden planks beneath their feet toward the boat. She seemed uneasy as she got in, but her expression brightened the moment the boat driver gave it some gas. The speedboat sliced through the calm water, which went from transparent turquoise to navy-blue under the darkening sky.
Ben slung an arm over Maggie’s shoulders and enjoyed the salty breeze hitting his face. The last time he’d been to the Bahamas was a year ago. He’d come here with Sonja Reyes, a Brazilian swimsuit model he’d briefly dated, and he’d been itching to come back ever since.
While the islands boasted plenty of celebrity-friendly resorts, Ben preferred Paradise Bay to all the others. It was subtle, certainly not as blatantly lavish as a place like Atlantis, but that’s why Ben liked it. Private bungalows, deserted beaches, and best of all, the hotel was located near a wildlife preserve, making it hard for trespassers, aka paparazzi, to loiter around.
“Here we are, folks,” the driver called over his shoulder as he slowed the boat and steered toward a long dock nearly hidden by thick foliage.
“Pass me your bag,” Ben told Maggie.
She did, and he hopped onto the wooden pier and extended a hand to help her out. A tall blond man in a burgundy blazer materialized out of nowhere and strode toward them, greeting Ben with a firm handshake and dropping a polite kiss on Maggie’s knuckles.
“I’m Marcus Holtridge, manager of Paradise Bay. Follow me.”
He led them to a golf cart, sandwiched himself between them, and signaled the driver to go.
The golf cart maneuvered the lush grounds of the resort, and Ben felt a rush of satisfaction at the wonder dancing in Maggie’s green eyes. He understood her reaction. The perfectly manicured lawns, the little cobblestone paths that wove through the luxurious setting, the bright exotic flowers that only added to the elegance of the spectacular layout. When Sonja first brought him here, he’d thought he’d died and gone to Eden.
They drove past a man-made waterfall that flowed into a small pond, and Maggie nudged his arm and gestured to the school of fat Koi swimming in the water. “Isn’t that pretty?” she breathed.
He swept his gaze over her rosy cheeks and lit-up features. “Sure is.”
As they entered the main section of the resort, Marcus pointed out various points of interest. The tennis courts, the spa, the small but elegant casino where Ben had lost five grand the last time he’d come.
It was the perfect place to relax without worrying about your face being splashed on every newspaper in the country and, considering he’d promised his agent he’d lay low, Ben couldn’t have picked a better atmosphere to do it in.
Ten minutes later, the golf cart stopped in front of its destination. Maggie hopped out, followed by Marcus, while Ben fumbled with the overnight bag. He glanced over at the pale-yellow structure nestled between majestic fronds, feeling that same sense of amazement he’d experienced during his first visit. It wasn’t the most magnificent bungalow, but it was picturesque and private and that’s all Ben cared about. The little house stood on a stretch of clean white sand, steps away from the ocean, and if you left the windows open at night, the sound of waves lapping against the shore lulled you to sleep.
On the small porch of the bungalow, Ben accepted the key from Holtridge, thanked the man for his assistance, and then watched as the hotel manager and the golf cart disappeared down the path leading back to the main complex.
“This is beautiful,” Maggie confessed as they stepped into the large spacious room.
A billowing white canopy hung from the ceiling and draped over the frame of the big mahogany bed, and on the blue bedspread sat a wicker basket filled with fragrant soaps, papaya shampoos, face towels and other welcome items.
Ben dropped the overnight bag on the polished hardwood floor. “You should see the hot tub.”
“Hot tub?”
“Follow me.”
He led her to the glass sliding door at the far end of the room and pointed.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said as her gaze followed his outstretched finger. Outside sat a four-person hot tub, skillfully built under a cluster of palm trees and surrounded by boulders, giving it the appearance of a natural rock pool.
“What do you say we get into our suits and hop in?”
“I didn’t bring a suit.”
Her disappointment pleased him. “Not to worry. When I asked the manager to leave a change of clothes in the closet, I made sure to request a few bikinis too. Go take your pick.”
“How’d you pull all this together so quickly?”
He shrugged and offered a faint smile. “I’m Ben Barrett, remember?”
As Maggie drifted over to the tall oak armoire across from the bed, Ben walked toward the nightstand and reached for the telephone. “I’m going to make a quick call while you get changed.”
He dialed his agent’s number and waited. From the corner of his eye he saw Maggie grab one of the bathing suits off a hanger and—was she actually going into the bathroom to change? Yep.
Like he hadn’t already seen her naked a dozen times.