back in the fold-or find another corporate client-her business would fail. She simply couldn’t make a living on walk-in customers.
Now fear chewed at her insides, making the frustration she’d felt only moments ago feel like a walk in the park in comparison.
“I know,” Debbie said, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to ease the sudden and ferocious pounding there. “And I’ll get home as fast as I can, Kara. Trust me. You’re gonna have to hold down the fort a little longer, though. Can you do that?”
“I guess…”
Filled with confidence, Debbie hung up, tucked her phone into the pocket of her jeans and tried to see past her own panic. What the hell was she going to do? She’d spent the last five years building up her business, nurturing it, growing it until it was something she could be proud of. Something she felt safe about. Something that made her feel secure in a sometimes scary world.
And now, that world had just gotten a lot shakier.
She should call C and B herself. Talk to the admin. Find out what was going on. Beg. Plead. Whine. Whimper like a kicked dog.
“Okay, not a good idea.” Debbie blew out a long breath and dragged in another one trying to find calm. “I can’t call her yet. I’ll just wait until I’m a little more zenlike-shouldn’t take more than a year or so…oh, God. I’m so dead.”
Dropping into the nearest chair, she pulled her knees up and rested her chin on top of them. Her brain raced as she tried to find a solution. She could call Cait or Janine to whine. But then, her best friends would instantly offer to loan her money or whatever. And they couldn’t afford it, either.
Their new fiances could, but Debbie sooo didn’t want to be borrowing money from Jefferson Lyon or Max Striver. Besides, borrowing money wasn’t a long-term answer. And that’s what she needed. She had to find a new corporate client. Someone bigger than Culp and Bergman. A company that would not only make her little travel agency solvent, but help it grow.
“Sure,” she whispered, “no problem.”
God. She rested her head against the back of the cushioned chair and stared up at the brilliantly blue sky. Twists of white clouds strung across the expanse like spools of ribbon unwinding. From a distance, she could just make out the sounds of muted music and laughter.
The land that Gabe built.
Where sunshine and sensual pleasures combine to make a magical world where troubles just couldn’t find a place to roost.
Well, apparently except for her.
Gabe.
His name rolled through her mind, but she shook her head before the idea could take root. Stupid. Impossible. And yet…If she could arrange for a packaging deal with Fantasies, her travel agency could become the hottest agency in California. Maybe the United States.
She sat up a little straighter and stared out past the railing toward the ocean where the wind whipped white caps on waves that rolled perpetually toward a white sand beach.
People would line up at her door to get hold of an exclusive discounted package to Fantasies. She could be the only agent around to be able to offer those deals and her business would be saved.
But even as the thought rolled through her mind, Debbie was shaking her head. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t go to Gabe and ask a favor. God. How could she? She’d turned down his marriage proposal back when neither of them had a dime and now, because he’s rich, she asks to use him?
Oh, no.
There had to be another way.
And she’d find it.
But first, Gabe or no Gabe, she had to get off this damn island.
Later that afternoon Deb had had enough. Fine. She couldn’t leave the island because she was a suspect. She could almost deal with that. But she wasn’t a felon yet. So why was a big burly security guy following her all over Fantasies? This was so not her imagination. Everywhere she turned, there he was, blending into the crowd with all the success of a redwood attempting to look like a rosebush. Not that he was trying to hide or anything, because if he was, wearing that red security jacket was a bad idea.
She made a quick right turn near the bank of elevators off the lobby and when her “shadow” showed up, she stepped out from behind a potted palm. “Okay,” she demanded, “what is it you’re trying to find out about me?”
He stared down at her for a long minute and Debbie momentarily regretted the impulse to face him. He was huge. And strong. With features that looked as if they were carved from stone. Until he smiled and his expression shifted into one of admiration.
“Nicely done.” Even his voice was huge. Deep and rolling like thunder.
“Thanks,” she said, relaxing just a bit, since it didn’t look as though he was about to cuff her and throw her in a dungeon. “Now, who are you and why are you following me?”
A couple of guests approached, loaded down with shopping bags from the village shops. Debbie watched them with more than a little envy. She was trying to avoid jail and, hey, save her livelihood. All they had to worry about was their Visa bill.
When the couple disappeared into an elevator, the big man spoke up. His voice rumbled out around her and she realized exactly why he was in security. Who would try to get anything past this guy?
“The name’s Victor Reyes. I’m chief of security here on the island.”
“Aren’t there more important things to take care of than following me?”
He shrugged. “I have my orders, miss.”
So, was Gabe trying to keep her safe or was he trying to find out if she really was the stupid jewel thief? Didn’t he know her better than that? Didn’t their night together mean a damn thing? “And you’ve been ordered to follow me around?”
He only nodded.
“I’m not a thief.”
“Glad to hear it, but that doesn’t change my orders, miss.”
“No,” she said, disgusted more with Gabe than with the poor guy just doing his job. “I guess it doesn’t. But I’m going to go talk to someone who can change them.”
“Mr. Vaughn isn’t in his office,” the big man said as she started toward the elevator.
Stopping dead, Debbie turned to look at him. Sunlight slanted in through the wide windows, splashing the red- and-white decor with a golden light. The thick, sweet scent of flowers caressed the air and under any other circumstances, Debbie would have been enjoying the ambience. As it was…
“Then where is he?”
“He’s judging a surfing contest on the beach.”
Stunned, Debbie couldn’t even think of a thing to say. She was being treated like a criminal and Gabe was off judging a surfing contest? What had happened to his offer of help? Where was the concern? Where was the trust?
“That’s just perfect,” she muttered, and headed past her guard dog at a fast clip. “You don’t have to follow me. I’m not going to do any permanent damage to surfer boy.”
He chuckled, but fell into step behind her. She sighed, then let it go. She couldn’t stop him and at least, Debbie thought grimly, he was keeping his distance.
Clearly, Gabe wasn’t exactly working his tail off to help her out. So, fine. If Gabe wasn’t going to help her, she’d do this herself.
She’d call Cait. Call Janine. Call the National Guard if she had to. She couldn’t afford to sit around and wait for island authorities to decide she was innocent. She had to get home. Like, now.
Her sandals clacked on the tiles and her vision was going red at the edges. Probably not helpful to be this darn mad, but she didn’t see how she could help it. She hit the automatic front doors and kept walking, cutting across the neatly tended lawn, moving from sun to shadow and sun again. She hardly saw her surroundings, but she was alert enough to glance over her shoulder and note that Mr. Security was tagging along after her. “Honestly, shouldn’t he be putting his efforts into actually finding the real thief?”
