Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(3)

He noticed Hunter watching him out of the corner of his eye. Had the real estate mogul decided that he’d toss the gem Logan’s way because he thought Logan could do an admirable job of flipping it? Or did he, too, think Logan needed a distraction?

That thought made his mood sour. First Reese was needling him, and now Hunter was in on it? He wouldn’t have thought that of Hunter. He was the quietest of their small, successful group, but sometimes he saw straight into the heart of the matter.

Jessica Clare
His father would have sneered at the thought of a vacation. To stay strong and on top of business, you kept a close eye on things and one hand on the rudder at all times. Vacation made you weak. Soft. And Hawkings men weren’t soft. They had poor taste in women, though. His father had married his mother, and that had been a mistake for all parties. And Logan had almost been fooled enough by Danica’s sweet face to go to the altar with her.

Logan stared at his cards, frowning, and tried to conjure up the face of someone named Gloria. Nothing. His memory was full of business meetings and contracts. No women.

Maybe a vacation/business trip was just what he needed at the moment.

“I’ll take a look at it,” he told Hunter.

***

Two Months Later

“Hate to say it, girl,” Sharon told Bront? and flopped down on her queen-sized bed. “But this is the shittiest resort I’ve ever stayed in.”

“It was free,” Bront? replied, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice. “You can’t really complain about free. Epicurus said, ‘Not what we have, but what we enjoy, constitutes our abundance.’”

“Uh-huh,” Sharon said in a tone of voice that told Bront? that she wasn’t listening. Instead, she’d picked up the remote and, pointing it at the TV, began to hammer on the buttons. “They water down the drinks at the pool. Did you notice that?”

For the ninth time in two days, Bront? regretted bringing Sharon. When she’d won the trip through her local radio station, 99.9 Pop Fever, she’d been just thrilled to go. Her friends in Kansas City hadn’t been able to come, though—none of them could get off work. Her old roomies from college had “real” jobs with responsibility, and they couldn’t get away from work for a last-minute getaway vacation, no matter how free it was.

Seeing as how Bront? was a waitress at a diner, she had no problem getting the time off. She’d simply asked for someone else to cover her shifts. Sharon had overheard Bront?’s conversation, though, and just happened to have a passport and enough vacation time to be able to make the trip. She’d broken up with her boyfriend, and she could really use a few days away, and wouldn’t Bront? want company on the trip?

Sharon wasn’t Bront?’s favorite coworker, but they got along well enough. And Sharon had given her sad eyes and mentioned the trip so often that Bront? had felt guilty about letting a second ticket go to waste. So she’d relented and brought Sharon along.

Big mistake.

After a rocky flight, during which Sharon had whined the whole time, a horrible ferry ride out to the island (Sharon had whined all the way through that, too), and now sharing the world’s smallest hotel room? Bront? was starting to think that next time she’d just go alone. Forty-eight hours with Sharon was about forty-seven too many.

Even though Bront? was determined to enjoy the vacation, Sharon was making it difficult. She was a slob. Her clothing and shoes were strewn all over the small room. She hogged the bathroom and used all the hot water and took all the towels. She’d stayed out all night the previous night partying without Bront?. And she’d nearly cleaned out the minibar already, despite the fact that Bront? had pointed out that it would be charged to Bront?’s credit card since the room was in her name.

“This place is a total roach motel,” Sharon said, tossing her suitcase onto the bed and throwing clothing onto the floor until she uncovered her pink bikini. “You should have asked them to upgrade you to the penthouse.”

“The radio station gave me the vacation. I couldn’t exactly demand anything.”

“I would have demanded a room larger than a closet!” Sharon stripped off her sundress and began to change.

Bront? went back to her guidebook, ignoring Sharon’s incessant complaining. So the resort was a little on the . . . rundown side. Seaturtle Cay in the Bahamas was still a win in Bront?’s eyes. It was free, for starters. She hadn’t spent a dime on travel or the hotel, thanks to the radio station. Which was a good thing, seeing as how she didn’t have two nickels to rub together. Mostly, it was just nice to get away from work. The beaches were gorgeous, and she’d seen a few advertisements for fun excursions like parasailing and snorkeling.

It just had to stop raining.

Bront? glanced out the window at the gray, gloomy skies and pouring rain. She sighed and flipped to the back of the guidebook, wondering if it included a list of rainy weather events.

Sharon finished adjusting her bikini and then glared out the window. “We’re not going to get one day of sunshine, are we?”

“I don’t know. I’m not a weatherman,” Bront? said without looking up, her voice as cheerful as possible. “Maybe you should go to the bar and see if anyone there has a weather report.”

“Now that sounds like a great idea.” Sharon put on a pair of enormous hoop earrings, slid into her sandals, and waved at Bront?. “I’ll be back soon. You want anything?”