Blame It on Paradise Read Online Free PDF Page A

sliding doors leading to the back patio had been opened. He leaped out of bed and tugged on a pair of black sports briefs. Screen doors kept out animals and insects, but a two-legged creature had opened the glass doors while he showered.
    He cautiously approached the screen doors, listening…nothing, other than the arrhythmic chirps and clicks of insects and the gentle movement of water. He quietly slid the door open farther and poked his head out for a more thorough look, but he saw nothing other than the mint-blue underlighting in a private lagoon and vast canopies of tall, palm-like trees hooding it from the moonlight.
    “Wow,” he exhaled. Jack still wasn’t sleepy, but he suddenly felt more relaxed as he stared at the picturesque scene before him. The view left him speechless, so he had nothing to say when he noticed the netting-covered platter on the rattan table on the patio. His stomach grumbled with more enthusiasm when he went to the table and drew back the netting.
    His last real meal had been on his first-class flight from Los Angeles to Sydney. He’d had packets of snack crackers on the chartered flights from Sydney to Christchurch and Christchurch to Darwin, so once he sat down at the table, he realized that he was starving. He began gorging himself on slices of fresh mango, green and gold kiwi, cantaloupe, honeydew melon and spiced ham, and practically swallowed whole a salad of marinated grape tomatoes, goat cheese and fresh basil. He particularly enjoyed a spicy roasted bird that tasted like chicken, only with a more robust, mildly gamey flavor.
    He tore open a large crusty roll and chomped into the satin fluff of the interior. After a few cursory bites, he took a swig of the pale amber beverage in the goblet beside the platter. The drink was cool and refreshing, and Jack made special note of its subtle mint flavor.
    “So this is it.” He swirled the drink, watching the way it caught the moonlight. “The green gold of Darwin Island.”
    He set down the goblet and shoveled in another chunk of roasted poultry. The tea was good, but a cold Sam Adams would have been better. Jack enjoyed a bittersweet chuckle thinking about the last time he’d had a Sam Adams. It had been around the same time he’d last played football. Over the years, his tastes had evolved to appreciate the complexities of Czech pilsners and rare milk sugar vodkas. No matter how pretentious his palate became, it would never forget its humble origins belonging to the son of a dockworker who had bought him a Sam Adams on his twenty-first birthday.
    Jack might have eaten himself sick if the ring of his cell phone hadn’t drawn him away from the food and back into his room. Only one person had his cell phone number, so without looking at the text box, he knew who was calling.
    Rather than waste words on a greeting, Jack got right to the point. “I had a transportation problem at the airport and missed my appointment. Marchand had left the office by the time I arrived. I’ve rescheduled for 7:30 tomorrow morning.”
    “Have you seen any other predators down there?” Reginald’s voice crackled over the thousands of miles between them.
    Jack knew exactly what Reginald meant by ‘predators.’ ”Not a one. C-W’s secret is still a secret.”
    “Are you sure?”
    “Positive.” Jack fought back a yawn. “For now, at least. This place is crawling with tourists, but none of them look like competition.” He stood at the patio doors and stared at the water lapping at the man-made part of the lagoon. A sudden shift of shadow in his peripheral vision aroused the hairs at the back of his neck. Fully alert, he again stepped outside and peered into the darkness of the wild foliage surrounding the cottage and lagoon.
    “Jack?”
    “What?” he responded a bit too sharply.
    “It’s only a matter of time before word of the tea gets out, now that I’ve announced my plans to the company,” grumbled Reginald.
    “I know. C-W’s secrets