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temper.
    Was he perverse to want to see what she’d do if she really let that temper fly? Oh, he knew she had it, but he also realized he’d never once seen the full brunt of it. He’d often thought passionate women made the best lovers because they rarely held back in life or in bed.
    Marcy was the exception to that rule. He had no doubt there was passion beneath the controlled, tight, competent facade that she showed the world, despite the fact that he’d never seen it.
    “Don’t think you’ve won, Simon.”
    A smile twitched at the corners of his lips. From where he stood that was exactly what had happened. Marcy couldn’t leave the island and they both knew it. He also knew that despite what she might say, she was enough of a workaholic that she couldn’t sit idly by and do nothing while there were things to be handled.
    He was counting on her innate tendencies to override any residual anger that might still linger by tomorrow. He figured she’d stew today for sure. Tomorrow morning, bright and early, she’d be back in her office.
    She just couldn’t help it.

3
    W HIRRING , BANGING and the loud pa-pow of a nail gun reverberated through Simon’s skull. The construction crew had begun their noise at seven o’clock this morning. Three hours later it was getting worse, not better.
    Normally, waking up that early wouldn’t have bothered him—he rarely slept past five anyway—but last night he’d stayed up until 2:00 a.m. reading through a stubborn scene.
    He was bleary-eyed, tired and cranky. Not to mention that the mother of all headaches pounded relentlessly behind his eyes.
    After a rather loud clamor that he could only assume meant someone had dropped an entire load of metal onto a hard surface, Simon jumped out of his chair and yelled, “Enough!” Not that they could hear him.
    Surely they could work somewhere else on the island for a while and give him a break. A nap, that was all he needed to get back into the groove he’d found the other day. The fact that his mind kept returning to his conversation with Marcy when it should have been concentrating on the story in front of him had nothing to do with his foul mood.
    Rubbing his hands over his face, trying to clear his cloudy vision, Simon headed for Marcy’s office.
    Halfway down the hallway, Xavier, the new head of security Marcy had hired yesterday, walked out of the elevator.
    “Oh, good,” he said, stepping back onto the car and holding open the door so Simon could join him. “I was just coming to see you. I’d like to sit down and discuss the existing security measures and evaluate any improvements I’d like to make.”
    With a sigh, Simon closed his eyes for a moment before answering, “Our previous head of security was former CIA. Trust me when I say I can’t think of a single change you’d want or need to make. Zane was meticulous.”
    “As am I,” Xavier answered with a smile on his lips but a hard glint in his dark brown eyes. “I’d still like to meet with you. Start out on the right foot, so to speak.”
    “I’m pretty busy for the next few weeks. Can this wait until later?”
    “Marcy mentioned the resort was closed and that a construction crew had been hired. I assume it would be more cost-effective to handle any adjustments while the crew is already here instead of having to bring them back.”
    The throb that had set up residence behind Simon’s eyes increased in intensity. He realized Xavier had a valid point, but he really, really didn’t have the time or energy to deal with this right now. Saving money wasn’t always the most important objective. Something Marcy had a difficult time understanding.
    It appeared that Xavier might reside in that camp, as well. Maybe putting them together was a good idea.
    The elevator dinged their arrival on the lowest floor. The doors slid open silently and Simon reached to hold them back.
    “I’m heading to Marcy’s office right now. Why don’t you follow me and discuss this