“You could take in an investor.”
Crossing her arms, she shook her head. “Tried that. Now he wants his money back—or he wants the hotel.”
“Ouch—power play. Are you hungry?”
She smiled and stood. “That means you’re hungry, right? Do you want cold beans, cold soup, or crackers?”
“Oh, come on, you must have more.” Standing, he dug into the shelves. He pulled out glass jars of spiced star fruit her mother had put up. Mike found a small camp stove and set it up on the floor to heat up the soup in the can.
Karen hovered over him, frowning. “If you burn my hotel down—”
“Relax. Former boy scout here. First thing they teach you is how to start a fire, and second thing is how now to burn the woods down.”
Karen slipped out of the room to check again on her guests. She came back to report they were tucked in tight and weren’t interested in food. After Mike had the camp stove packed away, he sat down on the couch and opened his arms. “Come here.”
She shook her head. “Now is not the time for—”
“For a hug? For a little comfort? Relax. I promise to be a perfect gentleman. At least for the duration of the storm. Scout’s honor.”
“Were you really a scout?”
He grinned. “Please come on—or how do they say it around here? Kere kere.”
“Where did you start picking up Fijian?” She came over and sat next to him.
He wrapped his arms around her. For an instant, she stiffened. The wind howled and rattled the hotel. Slowly, Karen relaxed and curled up against him. He rested his cheek on her head. “From the locals. I went down to that garage you mentioned. Nice bunch of guys—they thought it was hysterical I was going to try and get the generator working her. Apparently it’s a relic from World War II—you ought to see if you could sell it as an antique.”
He wiggled until he had her comfortably in his arms. “So…talk to me, Karen Whitaker. What is it you want from life—besides this hotel running like a Swiss watch? Do you want kids? A family? A luxury yacht in the harbor?”
She giggled. “That’ll be the day. No, I’m a pretty simple girl. I’m aiming for no debt, a roof over my head that doesn’t leak and…and a say in my own life. That’s what this really is. It was my choice to come here—I want to make that work. Not just for my dad. But for me. To show I can really do it.”
He touched a hand to her cheek. “Honey, I think you can do whatever you set your mind to. You just need to start really believing that.”
Chapter Thirteen
Karen awoke with a start. She felt something warm under her. Turning, she stared at Mike. She lay on top of him, snuggled up close on the tiny couch. He looked different still asleep like this, his dark lashes shading the top of his cheeks. He looked younger, and not so full of himself.
He had a dusting of freckles over his nose and laugh lines starting to deepen around his mouth and eyes. She kept watching him, thinking about last night—all his plans for the hotel. There were some good ideas in there, if you were a billionaire looking to throw money around. Still, she had to admit he had a good brain on him to go with that great body. It really was too bad he’d be leaving soon.
His eyes popped open, and the blue warmed. “Good morning. Hey, we’re still here.”
Face hot, she suddenly wanted to kiss him, to drag him close and strip off his clothes and start things up again. She untangled herself from his arms, stretched and tried to make light of the moment. “I have to say I have woken up with you more than most of my ex-boyfriends.”
He stood as well and stretched. She watched his shirt ride up, revealing a strip of skin. Mouth dry, she headed for the door. “Let’s see how bad it was.”
***
The damage wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be. The wind had hit the main building on one side. She counted one downed palm tree, a pile of kelp washed up from the beach, and an open and battered suitcase that Mike recognized as his. It’d been smashed beyond repair and God—or the Fiji reef guardian—only knew what had happened to the contents.
She didn’t have to ask Mike to start clearing things away—he did that on his own. She started pulling down boards and opening shutters. Ted had decided to stay another week and wait for the ferry to be repaired. “Can’t afford the sea plane,” he told her. But Karen noticed that while he spoke, Ted was watching Juilet as she stood on the porch. She sent the two of them off with a picnic lunch of peanut butter sandwiches—her food supplies were starting to get a little low. Then she went to find Mike.
“We need to start painting.” Reaching up, she peeled off a strip of white paint from the main building. “If salt water spray gets into the wood, I’m going to have rot on my hands or worse.”
Mike gave her a crisp salute. “Yes, sir. Where’s the paint?”
She led him to the storage shed behind the pool. She’d saved up for months to get the supplies—paint and brushes.
Six hours later, they’d managed to get two sides of the main house done. She sat down on the front porch steps and stared at the half done job. Brushing her hair with the back of her hand, she let out a breath.