Chapter One
Rachel Jewel sauntered along the beach, savoring the feel of squishy sand between her toes and warm tropical air embracing her. She tilted her head up to the sun, not even caring that her strategically styled hair fell back away from her face, revealing scars she usually didn’t let anyone besides immediate family view. Almost eight months ago an explosion had burned the left side of her cheek, jaw, neck, and the top of her shoulder. Enough time had passed, she should be ready to step up and conquer the world like she’d planned on, but she’d tried once after the accident and it had gone horribly. The experience had caused her to misplace her power, her moxie, her drive. They were going to reappear … someday.
Spring had been coming to her parents’ Vermont home where she’d mostly stayed since the accident, and she thought the beauty of earth’s rebirth would invigorate her and help her reset her path. But no, nada, nothing. Apparently green shoots and flowers weren’t enough to push past the humiliation of being blown up and disfigured by a psychotic jerk with a few sticks of dynamite.
The stimulus she hadn’t planned on was her brother Luke appearing and begging her to come to this exotic private island he’d recently purchased and evaluate the customer service, the overall experience, and as a side note, see if the manager of the gorgeous resort was embezzling from him. Rachel didn’t know if Luke really needed her “brilliant brain” like he claimed or if he was just trying to kick her out into the world, jump in the burning frying pan sort of thing. Her siblings and parents adored her and were naturally worried sick about her. Join the club. She agonized night and day about how to find Rachel Jewel again, and if she’d ever get brave enough to pursue her dreams of family law.
She’d surprised everyone, including herself, and said yes to Luke’s proposal. She loved her family, but she not only yearned for some space, she absolutely needed to find her excitement for life again or she might die a pickled old woman. This island was a great spot to test the heat of the frying pan. With only a hundred guests and fifty employees it was low key and a beautiful paradise. It was five miles in circumference with a large palatial-looking main building set near the calm bay on the west side of the island. The main building housed a fancy restaurant, a buffet, game rooms, offices, a state-of-the-art spa and fitness facility, employee housing, and a massive swimming pool area with lots of landscaped gardens leading down to the beach near the bay where there was supposedly incredible snorkeling and scuba diving.
The guests each had their own bungalow through the trees stretching away from the main building. Some were smaller and stacked closer together in the wooded area near the main building. The farther away bungalows were larger with their own kitchens, their own private swimming pool, personal butler, and the beach only a dozen feet away. Rachel was in one of those suites. She could only imagine what it would cost to stay in one for a week. The island also boasted an adventure course, zipline, a waterfall near the eight-hundred-foot peak, and beautiful mountain biking and hiking trails through the jungle-like forest.
She approached the main building and the bay from the beach. She could hear people talking and children laughing and splashing in the swimming pool. She was careful around children, besides her niece Paisley and her new nephew Krew, afraid she might make other children uncomfortable or scared with her scarred face.
In August, shortly after the plastic surgeons had declared her mostly healed, she’d met with the Dean of Harvard’s law school and three of the associate professors. She’d always dreamed of a career in family law and felt incredibly brave pursuing it, despite the scars disfiguring her face and neck. She’d felt the meeting went well and had almost convinced herself she could start school in the next couple of weeks. After the meeting, she’d been in the restroom and overheard two of the female professors talking about her. They thought her credentials, LSAT scores, and grades were more than sufficient, but they worried about her having a career in family law. In their minds, not only would judges and jury members be distracted or put off by her scars, they thought she would terrify and intimidate little children, who would be her most important clients and were already going through hard things with their families. She could still hear the one professor’s voice, “Children who are struggling shouldn’t have to also have nightmares about their lawyer’s disfigured face.” The words hadn’t been said snidely, simply matter of fact, which made it even harder to take.
Rachel had waited until they left the restroom to sneak out. She’d made it home to her bedroom before she broke down. She’d hoped in this modern age of acceptance her scars wouldn’t affect her career, but she didn’t want to scare anyone, especially children. After that, she styled her hair in front of her face and neck whenever she went in public but mostly she stuck close to her family and had spent the entire fall, winter, and early spring in Vermont.
A yacht was sailing into the bay and she found herself stopping in the sand to watch its approach. It was gorgeous—bright white with sleek lines. Whoever owned that piece of beautiful metal wouldn’t blink an eye at the cost of staying at this exotic island retreat.
About a dozen people walked off the yacht and Rachel noticed that at least one staff member fawned over each new guest, taking their bags and welcoming them. She also saw Preston Sant, the manager she was supposed to be “watching”, was right there in a suit and tie beaming as he welcomed the group. Preston had done the same when Rachel arrived from nearby Belize earlier this morning in the helicopter used by the resort to shuttle guests to the island. She hadn’t been particularly impressed or put off by Preston as he gave her a tour. He was a little smooth for her, something definitely was hiding behind his practiced smile and pretty-boy perfection. Who wore a suit in eighty degrees with eighty percent humidity? Yet she couldn’t fault him for that. He was putting on a professional vibe for the high-dollar crowd that could afford the island retreat.
She watched closer as the last man exited the yacht, turned back to say something to the captain and then was pounced upon by Preston. Rachel couldn’t hear their conversation and she couldn’t see the other man’s face from this angle, but she was intrigued by his broad, tall frame. He had wide shoulders, a tapered waist, and muscular calves all nicely displayed in a fitted cotton shirt and golf shorts. The man’s confidence, and the way Preston was simpering over him, revealed he was wealthy and powerful. Rachel had no problem with wealthy, well-built guys, but she simply wasn’t in the market for any man, not until she came to terms with her deformed face, her resentment toward the man who hurt her, and her altered future plans.
She tucked her long hair around the left side of her face and neck. With the help of hair extensions to make her fire-damaged dark locks thicker and longer, she was pretty certain no one could see anything but a small glimpse of the scars on her cheek through her sheet of dark hair. Though the scars had gotten less noticeable over the past eight months, the deformity wasn’t going anywhere.
She decided she’d turn around and walk back to her bungalow rather than go enjoy the spa right now. She used to be a social bug but now she defensively leaned toward peace and quiet. The new people who’d just arrived weren’t exactly a quiet crowd.
As she started to turn, the man she’d been watching also pivoted with Preston to start walking up the docks for his welcome tour of the impressive island and facilities. She’d received the VIP tour this morning and had been very impressed with Luke’s new purchase, excited to spend a week in paradise. This island took all-inclusive to a new level. No upcharges on anything, including the spa, scuba diving, ziplining, the adventure course, mountain bikes, specialty drinks, room service, and more. Everything you wanted was right there, handed over with a smile; and tips were all included as well. If the customer wanted, they could leave an extra tip in an envelope at the end of the week for employees who were very impressive to them, but there was no need to carry your wallet or even a key card around as the bungalow doors were re-programmed to a numbered code of the guest’s choice each week.
The man’s gaze swept the main building and expansive pool area, and then rotated to the beach where she stood fifty yards away. Their eyes locked and held, and she sucked in a breath, shocked by the impact those deep brown eyes had on her, even from a distance. She could see his face clearly, and it was as impressive and intriguing as his fit body. He was definitely a handsome man with a straight nose, high brow, strong jaw, and a cleft in his chin that she really liked, but it was the power and allure of his dark-brown eyes framed with thick lashes and dark eyebrows that really pulled her in.
She found herself giving him a challenging smile in return and throwing her hair back over her shoulder, tossing her head in a flirtatious gesture that she’d mastered in college. She realized her mistake quickly and sucked in a breath as if someone had punched her. What had she just done?
It was too late, he’d seen her, all of her. His gaze changed from welcoming to surprised, or maybe shocked would be a better word, but it wasn’t the shock that reverberated through her, it was the compassion. His eyes quickly swept over the mottled, patched, bumpy, disgusting skin of her left cheek, chin, and neck then refocused on her eyes as he gave her a welcoming, appealing smile.
Horrified, Rachel yanked her hair forward to cover the scars again, pivoted, and strode away through the thick sand. The luxurious feel of the sand earlier had now morphed into a trap that was dragging her down and halting her progress. She wanted to run from that handsome man and the fact that he’d seen her scars. Would he have nightmares like the law professor had said children would? Could she avoid him over the next week and still do the job Luke had asked of her? She doubted it, and her stomach squirmed with anxiety.
The old, feisty, funny, confident Rachel would be telling the new Rachel that she was acting like a complete wuss. Yes, he’d looked at the scars, who wouldn’t, but he’d moved past them and still smiled so becomingly at her. Maybe not everyone would be repulsed by her like she feared. Former Rachel would say she should be heading the other direction and introducing herself to the man.
She shoved former Rachel face-first into the sand and angled up the beach to the walking path that would lead her to her secluded bungalow and safety, for the moment. Why had she let Luke talk her into this and not begged Eve and Paisley to come with her? Why had she thought she was ready to reenter society? Not that a secluded island retreat was anything like her old social life, but it was still too much for the social wart she had become.
Pounding footsteps rang from the palm tree lined path to the south, vibrating through her like a gong banging repeatedly. She stopped short. She glanced that direction and saw the very man she’d strode away from running her direction.
Rachel froze. She didn’t know how to skirt around him and get to her bungalow without encountering him and she refused to spin and go the other direction and make it obvious she was avoiding him. The way his gaze was trained on her as he ran told her his very intent was to run into her.
He slowed his steps as he approached, leaving the firmer path through the trees and making his way down the beach toward her. He had a welcoming smile on his handsome face but something kind and understanding in his dark eyes revealed that he knew the truth---she’d run because of the scars.
Rachel may have become an expert at avoiding people, and especially confident, impressive men, the past eight months, but she wasn’t as far removed from her former self as she’d feared. She stood straight and tilted her chin imperiously, tucking her hair into place so he didn’t get assaulted with another view of her grisly skin. She wished she didn’t care. She kept telling herself she didn’t. She’d gone to numerous therapists and claimed she’d come to terms with the scarring and assuring them that she’d never been defined by the beauty of her face anyway. The fact that she kept pulling her long hair in front of her face to try and hide the scars said she definitely did care. She’d never told anyone about that woman’s voice echoing in her head, “Children who are struggling shouldn’t have to also have nightmares about their lawyer’s disfigured face.”
“Rachel Jewel?” He kept coming toward her with that large smile and now his hand was extended.
Rachel didn’t advance toward him, instead she held her ground, at least she could be proud of herself for that. She smiled and extended her own hand. “Yes. How’d you know?”
Their hands met and suddenly Rachel didn’t care how he knew her name, didn’t care if he’d Googled her and read every lame post someone had made about the former “perfect” model being disfigured.
His large palm pressed against her smaller one and then his fingers wrapped around the back of her hand and he held on. His touch was magnetic and somehow lifted her spirits. She felt like she could handle anything if their hands were joined.
“Um …” His confident smile slipped as he looked down at their hands then back up at her. Had he felt the connection as well? “Preston told me who you are. We both knew your brother Caleb in college, well we played lacrosse against him. He was at Duke …. As you know,” he gave her a chagrined smile, “and Preston and I played for Syracuse. Caleb was only a freshman when we were seniors but he was already an incredible athlete. His footwork and stick skills were better than anyone I’d played against. He destroyed us almost single-handedly …” He faded off, shook his head, pulled his hand back, and pushed it through his dark hair. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”