Losing Control - By Robyn Grady Page 0,27

Marco's, and I quote, 'This program could start a whole new genre'?" He examined the gray-bearded dog asleep on its back in a most unflattering pose near the entrance. "Maybe we should head back," he muttered under his breath.

Did she really have no idea? More than ever before, after seeing this, chances were her show was dead in the water. Only a miracle could save it now.

The driver was lugging both her suitcase and his overnighter toward that reception shack. Above a barely hinged door rested a lopsided sign, which read in faded green paint, WEL OME.

"There's still time to escape," she told him slipping out of the taxi, whereupon Cole set his teeth, ran a hand through his hair then scraped himself out of the vehicle, too.

"I'll stay," he said, dragging his feet to follow, "if only to see what you think can possibly keep an audience glued to their seats."

As well as the promise of being alone with you.

In her tantalizing fitted blue wrap dress, she continued on with a laugh. Seeing those long tanned legs in that dress, that heavenly behind swaying as if to beckon him near...

Cole's pace picked up.

Sure. He could slum it for a couple of days.

* * *

From the moment they touched down, Taryn had fallen in love with this tropical oasis. As far as she was concerned, a weekend wasn't nearly long enough. Except, of course, she'd need to contend with the "Cole looking extra hot in casual wear" situation. But truth was she'd find him sexy even in his Popeye suit.

At a bamboo reception counter, a friendly middle-aged lady with oversize dentures and a gold-plated name tag that read Sonika checked their reservation, after which a man, naked from the waist up, collected their bags. Standing beside her, Taryn sensed Cole's masculine sensitivities prickle. Perhaps he was anticipating an equally stunning island girl to materialize and show off her assets. Best he didn't hold his breath. This island was particularly "woman user friendly."

Sonika's smile beamed brighter. "I'm sure you will be happy with your accommodation," she said in accented English. "Your bungalow has one of the best views on the island."

"How many guest bungalows do you have here?" Cole asked.

"Only six on the whole island. The other five are occupied," she said, closing her registry book. "But don't worry that you'll run into anyone if you don't want to. Privacy is our promise."

The man and his WrestleMania shoulders ushered them out a side door and down a long sandy path, which was bordered by lush ferns and palm trees on either side. Above them curious monkeys crouched on branches, a menagerie of birdlife hooted and cooed, heady combinations of floral scents filled the air and Taryn wanted to sigh. These surroundings would make for fabulous visuals and audio. All she needed was that final nod. She hoped Cole would be a good sport and admit this ultraexotic location and her idea were winners...that is, when he got over the next surprise.

A few minutes later, they arrived at their bungalow. While the porter continued on to drop their bags inside, a previously tetchy Cole seemed to enjoy a change of heart.

"I must say, I had my doubts." He scooped up a handful of powdery sand and let it filter through his fingers while surveying a bay that spread out before them like an endless throw of mirror-blue silk. "Not the Hilton but that is an exceptional view." He spotted a calico hammock waiting on the bungalow's porch and rubbed his shoulder. "I can picture myself swaying in that. In fact..."

But as he moved toward the steps and that hammock, Taryn crossed to block his path.

"I'm afraid you have a task or two to perform before you can lie back," she said.

"We'll take an hour to rest up before we start on your survey work."

"I'm not talking about that. When a person comes to this Polynesian island, there are certain...requirements. Duties."

"What do we have to do?"

"Not we. You."

He threw another glance around and coughed out a laugh. "Like hunt down a wild boar? Descend into the fiery bowels of a live volcano?" When her expression held, his smirk died. "Please tell me that volcano isn't live."

"Remember I said that this island's name means happy. This place is also meant to be a sanctuary where individuals come to know and appreciate others and, more importantly, understand themselves."

He waited then finally shrugged. "And...?"

"Women here, Cole, are adored and revered. They're waited on hand and foot."

Trying