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perfectly framed in the door
opening. He found himself grinning, liking the way her shorts hiked
up slightly showing the bottom of two rounded cheeks. Then she
backed out, her gear in tow, and slammed the door shut. He wiped
the grin off his face as she reached in through the window to
retrieve something she’d dropped on the seat.
    “You want your stupid car, take your stupid
car.” She walked off in a huff. He let her, watching her tight
little, slim-hipped, rear-end sway in the khaki hiking shorts as
she approached the Jeep, her ponytail slightly brushing the small
swell of her hips as she did. He stood there until she opened door,
reached in and grabbed his luggage and his briefcase, and tossed
them onto the pavement. A passing car nearly hit them. Andrew
cringed and darted forward.
    “Hey! Be careful with that! It’s
expensive!”
    “Then you better get it the hell off the
road,” she spouted back.
    She jumped into the Jeep. He heard the
ignition start as he stepped closer to the vehicle. She tramped on
the accelerator. The Jeep didn’t budge. She tried again. Sand and
dirt flew up into an arc behind the Jeep as it rocked
forward...then backward...then forward...then backward again. She
stopped, then tried once more. More sand and gravel and dirt flew.
The Jeep stayed put.
    Finally, she cut the engine and glared at
Andrew through the windshield.
    A through struck him.
    Frantically, he raced back toward the Miata,
opened the door, and dove into the driver’s seat. His fear was
realized—the ignition was empty. She’d taken the damn keys.
    “Need these?”
    He turned. Now standing beside of the Jeep,
she taunted him, keys swaying from her fingertips. And she was
smiling. The idiot was smiling.
    Andrew felt like he did as a child when his
older brother used to play aggravating, teasing games with him. He
didn’t like it then; he didn’t like it now. He was tired of playing
this aggravating game with her.
    “Yes, I would like the keys back, please. If
you don’t mind.”
    And then she did it again. She smiled.
    A dangerous, wicked smile.
    In the next instance she reared her arm back
and threw the keys as hard and as far as she could over the ocean
side of the road. And immediately after that, she tossed his
luggage and briefcase after the keys.
    She spared the laptop.
    Andrew just stood there, spellbound, and
watched his things bounce on the rocks into the ocean.
    Then it started to rain.

 
     
     
    Ten
     
    On the bus to Negril, and Eden II
     
    Lucky for them, the bus to the resort came
rumbling by within the next fifteen minutes.
    Andrew and Tasha were both soaked to the
skin. Tasha had to chuckle. Served the guy right, maybe now he’d
get out of that awful suit and tie. Of course, she’d most likely
have to accompany him on a shopping excursion at one of the resort
shops. She’d hate to see what sort of beach ensemble the guy would
come up with.
    Andrew was in a terrible mood and refused to
flag down the bus. Tasha decided to take matters in her own hands,
the hell with the arrogant businessman. She was ready for one wild
week of decadence and she didn’t care anymore whether he came with
her or not.
    In fact, for a moment, she thought that he
was just going to stand there at the side of the road and not get
on the bus. At last, he did. He was a sight, of course, looking
like some sad, drowned puppy, clutching his laptop to his chest,
wading through the sea of Club Regale party-goers to the one vacant
seat on the bus.
    It was far from her seat but she didn’t mind.
She wasn’t through with Andrew Jacob Powell III yet. Not by a
longshot.
    She still had six days, seven nights of ahead
of her.
    ****
    The deep green of rain forest shaded the
narrow, winding road that wound through the island jungle country
like a living, breathing tunnel. Every once in a while sunlight
speckled the road through the trees and huge, native wildflowers
splashed color into the day as Tasha took in her surroundings on
the