“Excuse me, miss,” a calm voice said behind her. Turning, Meg looked up into the face of the most handsome men she’d ever seen in her life. Standing behind him with her mouth agape was his perfect female counterpart, an equally beautiful—actually stunning—brunette. Unfortunately, the man’s pleasing looks only deepened her fury as she took in the dry, immaculate, not-a-hair-out-of-place appearances of him and his lovely companion.
“And you!” Meg could hear the hateful words spew from her mouth, yet she was unable to stop them. “You sit in that goddamned car like some kind of king and don’t even tell him to stop. Clearly you must have more money than brains considering you would hire him to drive your fancy car like Jeff Gordon, taking out anyone else who gets in the way.”
“I’m afraid I’m not sure what you are talking about,” the man answered smoothly despite her insults.
Further angered by his calm demeanor, she continued berating him. “Sure you don’t. That man runs me off the road not ten minutes ago and you don’t have a clue what I’m talking about.”
The man glanced sharply at his driver. “George, is this true?”
Looking at his feet, the young chauffer appeared chagrined by his actions. “I didn’t know she ran off the road.”
“You didn’t know? Did you pull over to check?”
“We were on a tight schedule,” George mumbled. “Already late.”
“Rob.” The attractive woman was clearly uncomfortable with the coming confrontation. “I’m going to go in if you don’t need me anymore tonight.”
“Of course, Lana,” Rob replied. “It’s late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Good night,” Lana purred softly before making her elegant departure. Meg had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes at the woman’s red carpet worthy performance and the two men gawking at her pert little behind as she strolled away.
“And the Oscar goes to…” Meg mumbled.
“I beg your pardon?” Mr. Gorgeous asked.
“Christ,” she muttered as all the fight left her. “Forget it. I’m wet, cold, hungry, tired, and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about any of this anymore.” She was well aware that her departure, unlike Lana’s, was less than stellar with water streaming off her now see-through pink blouse and linen pants, mud squishing between the toes of the sandals, and her mass of curly blond hair dripping and hanging in her face.
“Miss,” the man called out, but Meg kept walking. The end of her hellish day was in sight and nothing was going to stop her from soaking in a nice, hot bubble bath, crawling between the soft cotton sheets of her king-sized bed, and sleeping until noon.
The night clerk at the front desk took in her dirty, wet appearance with disdain. “May I help you, ma’am?”
“Yes.” Meg rummaged through her damp bag. “I have a reservation. My name is Meg Williams. I have the confirmation number here somewhere. Oh yes, here it is.” She pulled out the crumpled computer printout page with her reservation information.
Glancing at his computer, then at her paper and then back at the computer, the man’s earlier haughtiness disappeared before he tugged at his collar and sighed heavily. Meg closed her eyes and waited for the words she’d heard so many times today.
“I’m very sorry, Ms. Williams. There seems to be a problem with your reservation.”
“Of course there is,” she answered. “Let me guess, my name isn’t in your computer and you don’t have any more rooms.”
The man flushed. “Well, actually, yes, that’s true. You have to understand Summer Fling is our busiest weekend.”
“Save it.” Meg cut him off with her hand. “Are there any other hotels nearby?”
“There are,” the man began, stumbling before adding, “however—”
“They’re all booked too.”
“There isn’t a single vacancy on the island.”
Looking around, Meg spotted the hotel bar.
“How late is the bar open?”
“Until three.” The clerk was clearly surprised by the fact she wasn’t arguing more.
Numb and exhausted beyond belief, Meg merely nodded before walking away. All the fight had been beaten out of her. Eden Island had officially kicked her ass.
Dragging her shoulder bag on the ground behind her, she trudged toward the bar, unable to think beyond the drink she was going to order.
Two
Rob Madison watched the petite blonde who had attacked his driver limp toward the hotel bar. After she left him in the parking lot, Rob questioned George about the incident, only to discover that his foolish chauffer had indeed run the poor woman off the road. George, a last minute replacement for his regular chauffer, had apparently thought to impress Rob by getting him to the hotel from the airport in record time. The only problem was Rob had been too tired to notice the man’s reckless attempt. He didn’t want to confess to the angry woman that he had nodded off and had actually been asleep during her terrible ordeal.
“Ah, Mr. Madison,” Pierre greeted him from behind the desk with a genuine smile. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you, Pierre. It was quite a trip. Everything okay here?” Rob couldn’t help, but look back at the bar.
Noticing his glance, Pierre appeared uneasy.