"Tell me what you need and I'll send someone to get it. Or I can have a security team escort you home. Whatever you need."
"Thanks," Dallas says. "We'll take you up on that."
"Yes," I agree. "We really--oh, hell. I forgot about Brody and Stacey." I glance between Nikki and Damien. "We just offered the bungalow to my best friend and his wife. They're coming in today."
"So you guys can stay in ours," Nikki says. "Better yet, put your friends up there. And stay in your own place."
"Are you sure?" Stacey is a huge tennis fan, and Damien played professional tennis until he quit to found an empire. For her, the idea of staying in Damien Stark's bungalow is the equivalent of telling a kid they get to ride in Santa's sleigh.
"It's our pleasure," Damien says.
"Just go," Nikki adds. "Enjoy your friends. Relax. And for just a little while, try to escape the world."
"Stacey wants it to be officially known that she is in heaven sleeping in Stark's bedroom," Brody says as we walk barefoot along the private beach in the island's gated area. "Personally, I think that's just a little kinky. But since I'm good with kink, I'm going to roll with it."
I bump him with my shoulder. "You're a good husband."
"That's what I keep telling her. Seriously, thanks for getting us the bungalow. And thanks for giving Stark her email address. The email from him and Nikki telling us where various things are in the bungalow and assuring us we should make ourselves at home was a nice touch. And I'm pretty sure Stacey's going to print it out and frame it once we get back to New York."
"Not a problem. And Nikki really wanted to reassure you both that you were welcome."
He and Stacey had arrived about an hour ago, and we met them at the helipad. We showed them to the Stark bungalow and gave them the quick and dirty tour of the island, pointing out important features like the small but well-stocked liquor store, the restaurant, and the spa.
Then Stacey went inside to unpack while Dallas went into our bungalow to make some phone calls. At least, that's what they said. Brody and I both knew they were just giving us time to catch up.
"I'm so glad you're here," I say honestly. "I miss you. I haven't seen you since..." I trail off. The sun is too bright, the beach is too pretty, the sky is too blue. I just don't want to think about what happened.
"Since the bitch attacked you?" Brody says, clearly not reading my mind.
"It's been a little hectic since then," I say dryly.
"I was a fucking basket case, you know that, right? Your mom told you? I mean, I get why they wanted to be careful, but I was really freaked."
I reach for his hand and squeeze it. "I missed you, too."
He shoots me a sideways look. "So how are you doing? Really?"
I frown as I think about it. "I feel exposed. Raw. And vulnerable. I mean, she just came out of the dark and attacked me. And then to do that to a dog." I shiver, then hug myself.
"And Dallas?"
Just his name makes me smile. "He makes me feel safe." It's a simple answer, but the truth often is, and that is the most basic truth between us: we make each other feel safe.
"I'm glad to hear it, but what I meant is how's he doing? With the attack on you, I mean. And also with the news that just hit the papers."
I make a face. "You saw. Great, huh? Pretty soon they'll offer us a reality TV show."
"Good girl," Brody says, then shrugs when I aim a questioning look his way. "I just think you have to keep your sense of humor about that. Not about the stalker, but the tabloids? Fuck it, you'll never get ahead. At any rate, you didn't answer my question. How's Dallas handling everything? Especially the attack on you and this horror with t
he dog?"
"He's feeling furious," I admit. "Not to mention impotent."
Brody's brows rise, and I roll my eyes. "No, we're going fine in that department," I say. "Problem pretty much solved there."
"Also glad to hear it."
"I just mean that he wants to jump in and be my protector, but he doesn't know who to protect me from."