Page 23 of One Hot Escape

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"Dexter Armstrong-Hill hasn't written a book in how long? Must be twenty years at least."

I let go of her hand, stuffing both of mine in my trouser pockets. "It's been almost thirty years. Every publishing company on earth has tried to sweet-talk him into making a comeback. Buthecontactedmevia his personal assistant. Signing him would be the biggest coup in the history of the publishing industry."

"Really? Well, we have to go."

"Even though I'm breaking my vow to avoid work for two weeks?"

"Plans can change. It's not the end of the world." She throws her arms around me and presses her lips to mine, holding them there for several seconds. "I'd love to go with you. It'll be like an adventure. I assume he lives on this island."

"No, he lives on a private island twenty-five kilometers west of this one. He'll send a helicopter to pick us up."

"Wow, that's even more of an adventure. I can't wait." She twists her mouth one way, then the other. "Do I need to dress up for this? I didn't bring any fancy clothes."

My mobile chimes, and I pull away from Maddie to get it out of my pocket and check the text Ilsa sent me. I wince.

"Dexter's dress code is…unusual," I say. "His personal assistant, Ilsa, texted me the details. We'll need to visit a particular shop to get ready for our adventure. Dexter won't let us inside his home if we aren't wearing the appropriate clothes from the appropriate shop."

"An unusual dress code. This just keeps getting better." She bounces on her toes, clapping her hands—but not loud enough for anyone else to hear. "A mystery dinner with a mysterious man. Let's go."

She is absolutely adorable. So of course, I want to shag her.

But I won't do it tonight. Besides, I suspect Dexter will wear us both out.

Chapter Eleven

Maddie

I skim my hands over my new dress, feeling oddly invigorated by the prospect of the mysterious dinner party Richard and I are about to attend. My clothes are, like Richard said, unusual. Still, I kind of like it. How often does a girl get the chance to wear a Victorian-style evening gown? I have a reticule too, which turns out to be a little drawstring purse.

First, we'd gone to a costume shop—yeah, a Caribbean island that caters to beach-loving tourists has a costume shop—so we could dress appropriately. Sir Dexter keeps this shop on retainer or something, so they'll always be ready to provide the costumes he demands his guests wear. He pays for it, so hey, I'll roll with the old-timey flow. We also visit a salon so I can get a period-appropriate makeover. Richard has to put on fake sideburns to make him look more like a Victorian gentleman, or maybe he's a rake. I don't know the difference.

One more time, I glance down to admire my dress. It's white satin with intricate black lace and a neckline that highlights my breasts without exposing too much. I have a pearl necklace too, and pearl earrings to match. I feel like I've just stepped out of a movie. Or maybe I'm stepping into one. I do have a mysterious engagement at the home of a mysterious man.

In his Victorian suit, Richard looks hot enough to set the whole island on fire.

We're standing in the airport waiting for our helicopter to arrive. It feels kind of strange to be dressed like the olden days while gazing out at a Caribbean inlet where speedboats zoom by in the fading twilight and we're waiting for a chopper to pick us up. Any minute I expect to see either a pirate ship dock out there or a TV crew jump out of a closet to announce we're being filmed for a practical-joke show.

I think I'd prefer the pirates.

Neither of those things happens. The helicopter lands, and we climb aboard. I have some trouble with that since I'm wearing voluminous skirts that go down to my feet. Richard has to help me, but finally, we are on our way. The helicopter takes off.

Through the windows, I can see the lights on the boats below us and the stars in the sky above us. I hold my date's hand the whole way because I like doing that, but also because I've never flown in a helicopter before. It's a little scary to see all those lights whizzing by so far beneath us. Though I can't see the water, I know we're flying over open sea when the number of lights from sea vessels dwindles. The glow of the resort retreats from view too.

We don't try to talk to each other during the flight, though we have headsets with mics. I'm engrossed by the night sky. Every time I look at Richard, he's looking at me, smiling, like he's as engrossed by me as I am by the stars and the moon.

Once we're on the ground, we find a horse-drawn carriage waiting for us near the dock. Oil lanterns on poles illuminate the area, and I'm not kidding about our transportation. Two white horses pull a gold-trimmed white carriage that has an interior upholstered in velvet and oil lanterns attached to each of its four corners. The whole scene is like something out of a fairy tale.

Like a perfect Victorian gentleman, Richard offers me his hand to help me into the carriage. I don't think he's playing a part. He is as sweet and courteous as he seems. I can't remember the last time any guy offered me his hand or opened a door for me. Yep, Richard does that too. He held the costume shop door for me, and the salon door too. If he had a cape, I'm sure he would've laid that down on the ground so I wouldn't have to walk on the dirt.

During the carriage ride to Sir Dexter's house, we hold hands again. I scoot closer to him so I can rest my cheek on his shoulder. How can spending time with a man I barely know feel so comfortable? Doesn't matter. This is my first vacation in…ever, I think. I'm going to enjoy it and make the most of every moment.

Soon the trees thin out, revealing a large house with oil lanterns hung across the width of its wraparound porch. More flickering light emanates from inside the house.

"Does this guy have electricity?" I ask Richard.

"I have no idea. I've never been here before."

"Are you sure this guy is worth all the trouble?"


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