The Dare Collection: July 2018. Nicola Marsh

clients with his company and they’re both still working there.”

      It was better than he could have hoped. “I need one of the villas.”

      Another pause, longer this time. “Roman, if you need a vacation, book it yourself. I’m not a goddamn travel agent.”

      “No shit. This isn’t pleasure—it’s business. I need to find a guest arriving today. And offer the owner of the reservation a truly outstanding amount of money to reschedule. The resort won’t give out that information to me, but if you have an in, they’ll give it out to you.”

      “This better be really important.”

      It wasn’t a question, but Roman had nothing to lose at this point. “Vitally. One of the businesses I’ve been trying to court for months is coming down to the deadline. If my client doesn’t invest first, the other wolves circling will. They’ll damage the integrity of this place and do irreparable harm to people’s lives as a result.”

      “Sounds like you’re playing the hero. A new look for you.”

      “Fuck no. I’m in it for the bottom line, and the bottom line is that with the right spin, this place could be making a significant amount of money, and the good press that comes from it being connected with a women’s shelter would go a long way to opening doors to me that have previously been closed.”

      Gideon snorted. “Whatever you have to tell yourself. Give me thirty.”

      “Thanks.”

      His friend hung up without saying goodbye. Gideon would come through for him. The man was an unstoppable force, and Roman counted himself lucky to have him on his side.

      Sure enough, thirty minutes later, a text came through with the reservation details—and the significant amount of money to be wired to the owner of the reservation he was co-opting. Roman wasted no time sending the money and booking the first flight out of New York.

      He had seven days to track down Allie Landers and convince her to see things his way. How hard could it be on an island with only ten villas on it?

       CHAPTER TWO

      ROMAN TOOK FIVE minutes to change and stalk through his villa, getting a feel for the place. It was all vacation luxury, heavy on the driftwood furniture and big open spaces to maximize the view of his private beach and the foliage that surrounded three quarters of the building.

      And therein lay the problem.

      He should have anticipated that an island with only ten villas would play heavily into privacy, but with the various activities open to all guests, he’d anticipated there would be plenty of time to find Allie and make his argument.

      He hadn’t figured on not knowing which part of the island she was on.

      He strode onto the beach and looked around. The natural curve of the island created a miniature bay that blocked out the view of anyone else. There were bicycles and walking paths to get to the main buildings, where there was a restaurant, a bar, a yoga studio and a boutique gift shop. He could hang out there and hope like hell that Allie would venture in for a meal, but with the option to have dining brought to the villas, he didn’t like his odds.

      No, better to get the lay of the land and plan accordingly.

      A quick examination of the storage unit right off the sand—designed to look like a weathered shack—gave him the answer. There was gear for a variety of water sports. He considered his options and went with the kayak. It was the fastest way to get where he needed to go and stay relatively dry in the process. He shucked his shoes off, paused and then dragged off his shirt, too. The summer sun should have made the heat unbearable, but as he pushed the kayak into the water, it was damn near pleasant.

      Roman hadn’t been on a kayak before, but it seemed easy enough. He experimented in paddling until he got a good rhythm, then set off, heading south around the island. He’d make a circuit and go from there.

      The main problem lay in the fact that he didn’t exactly know who he was looking for. He’d never managed to pin Allie Landers down into meeting him in person. The digging he’d done online had brought up precious little—both in details about her as an individual and pictures of her. Her social media accounts were both set to private, and the one photo he’d found of her was from ages ago. The Transcend website, which revealed more about the company’s services and vision than its founder, didn’t give more information than a contact email address. Considering it was linked with a women’s shelter, that wasn’t surprising, but it still irked him.

      That said, Roman had secured deals in the past that began with even less information than he had now. He was confident he’d pull it off this time, too.

      The first villa to the south had a family with two smallish children making sandcastles, so Roman kept going, starting to enjoy himself despite the fact that he much preferred the city to anything resembling nature. This didn’t feel like nature, though.

      It felt a whole lot like paradise.

      He made his way around the island, surveying beach by beach. There were two with families, two with groups that seemed to consist solely of men, three empty and one with a group of four women who catcalled him as he paddled past. He filed that information away to check on later. There was no telling how many friends Allie had come down here with, but he knew she wasn’t married and had no children, so at least he’d narrowed down the search.

      By the time he came around the north point of the island, he was fucking exhausted. Roman spent time in the gym regularly, but the heat and the constant paddling wore on him. He steered around the outcropping of rocks and let his paddle rest across the kayak in front of him, taking a moment to roll his shoulders.

      Which was right around the time he saw the woman.

      She lay on her back, her arms stretched over her head, her long blond hair stark against the vivid red of her beach towel. But that wasn’t what made his breath dry up in his lungs.

      It was the fact she was topless.

      Her golden skin glinted in the sunlight as if she’d oiled herself before coming out to the beach, and the only thing resembling clothing she wore was a tiny triangle of indeterminable color. Her long legs bent as she shifted, her large breasts rising and falling with a slow breath.

      He forgot what he was there for. Forgot that his muscles were damn near shaking with exhaustion. Forgot everything but his sudden need to see what color her nipples were.

       What the fuck are you doing?

      He shook his head. Going closer was inappropriate. Fuck, sitting there and staring like a goddamn creep was the height of inappropriate. It didn’t matter how mouthwatering her curves were or the fact that she’d propped herself up on her elbows to watch him.

      Roman took a deep breath, and then another. It did nothing to quell his raging cockstand, but he managed to pick up the paddle and keep rowing. Whoever that woman was, no matter that he wanted to spend a whole lot of time up close and personal with her...she wasn’t Allie. The one picture he’d managed to source of the woman alone was several years old. Her goddamn senior yearbook photo. She’d been skinny to the point of being unhealthy with her hair chopped short and dyed pitch-black.

      He highly doubted she looked anything like that currently.

      The one defining characteristic of the women who staffed Transcend was that they were all tiny and chiseled and didn’t have a soft spot on their bodies. Beautiful, yes. Roman could appreciate all body types, but none of them had made his hands shake the same way that woman on the beach did. Soft and curvy and with breasts he ached to get his mouth on.

       Knock that shit off. You aren’t here to fuck anyone, no matter how sexy she is. You’re here for business.

      He’d go to dinner tonight and see if he could sniff out which