Stranded in Paradise Read Online Free PDF

boarding pass and stooped to retrieve it.
    Bags flying, Tess skidded to a stop, gasping in pain when she felt her right ankle give—the same ankle she’d broken in a skiing accident three years before. Fighting the hot sting of wrenched muscles, she bent and collected her briefcase and purse.
    The elderly man turned around, apparently oblivious that he had been the cause of her injury. “You okay, little lady? Looks like you had a little tangle.”
    â€œFine.” She gritted her teeth against the white-hot pain. “Just dandy.”
    She straightened. Her ankle throbbed.
    â€œShouldn’t be in such a big hurry. Folks got to learn to slow down. Everyone’s in such an all-fired hurry,” the man complained as he proceeded slowly on down the corridor, his words of wisdom trailing behind him.
    â€œAnd ‘have a good day’ to you, too,” she muttered.
    She deftly tested her weight on the injured ankle. The ache was awful. She would have to swallow the anguish and hobble on if she was going to make the flight.
    She managed to board seconds before the Jetway detached from the plane. Sinking gratefully into her assigned seat, she reached for the seatbelt and fought against the unfamiliar urge to cry. Tess Nelson did not cry. If Mona had taught her one thing it was that a Nelson was in charge of her own life—she and she alone was responsible for herself and her actions. Only whiners and losers cried.
    As the 767 roared down the tarmac, she reached to rub her swollen ankle. The pain had turned to a constant ache. She wondered if she would be able to get her boot back on if she took it off during the flight. Deciding some relief from the pressure was worth the risk, she warily pulled off the footwear and examined her ankle. It was puffy but maybe with luck it wouldn’t get any worse. Suddenly aware of the guy setting next to her, she lifted her gaze and met a pair of amused artic blue eyes. A grin hovered at the corners of his tanned features as his gaze dropped to her Nerf-ball-size foot—certainly not her best feature.
    Snapping around in her seat, she clicked the belt in place and pretended interest in the in-flight phone. If he said one word she would strangle him.
    Dropping her head against the headrest, she closed her eyes and felt the familiar tug in her stomach as the plane lifted off and soared into the void of swirling snow. Right now all she wanted to see was a hole open up and swallow the passengers.

    â€œPredicted to add up to fourteen inches before it’s over,” the radio announcer said. “But we’re the lucky ones. Over there in the Pacific, trouble is brewing. A tropical depression has developed. . . . Sustained winds from twenty to thirty-four knots, that’s twenty-three to thirty-nine miles per hour, for us lay people. It could turn into a doozy before all’s said and done. Stay tuned for further updates.”
    She tuned out the radio and the teenage boy who wore it. His head bobbed in time with some sort of rap music that she wished was anything else. Even country would’ve been better. As she returned her tray to the upright position, the “fasten seat belt” sign came on and she settled back to await final descent into Kahului Airport.

    At precisely 3:37 P.M., Maui time, the Boeing 767 landed. Heavy trade winds gusted through the open walkways as Tess followed the throng of wary fliers to the baggage claim terminal. By now her ankle had swollen to nearly twice its normal size. She had pulled and strained to force her boot back on, groaning aloud in agony. The hunk beside her had looked more than a little awkward at her state, and yet what could he have done? Pushed her bulging ankle from the other side?
    Her ankle ached as if a bull had kicked it. She couldn’t zip the boot, so the top flapped open, snagging her hose. Her eyes searched the concourse for signs that she was actually in Hawaii. No one met her with a