IslandAffair

largely his overprotective mother’s fault he was surrounded by
bodyguards. His life was full of interfering women, was it any wonder he swung
the other way?
    He smiled with grim humor. His secretary would hardly
recognize him now without his sober suit and tie. In its place he wore a bright
Hawaiian shirt and knee-length khaki shorts. It had been days since he last
shaved. His jaw sported a fair crop of bristly red-blond whiskers and his
sensible haircut had grown out to hang over his shirt collar and blow in his
blue eyes. What use did he have for business suits on a tropical island? And no
one here gave a damn whether he shaved or cut his hair, himself included.
    John rounded a corner in the path at a trot, catching sight
of his neighbor just ahead. He slowed his pace, keeping his distance as his
neighbor wandered through the pool complex, gaze fixed on the horizon. He
caught his breath when the man stumbled over a bag and nearly fell into the
heavily chlorinated water. John quickened his pace, reaching him just as he
stepped on a pair of sandals and lost his balance again, teetering over the
edge of the pool. As he reached out to clutch the man’s shirt, gravity won the
battle. John had time to grab a quick breath of air before they splashed into
the shallow water in a confusion of limbs. John’s head hit the tiled edge with
a thud that reverberated through his skull and brought with it a wave of
darkness.
    * * * * *
    Life filtered back with unmerciful speed. Sound came first,
echoing then sharpening until he could make out a jumble of voices.
    “Is he all right?”
    “Someone get the doctor.”
    “Step back, sir.”
    Sensation flooded his body. He was wet and lying on a warm,
hard surface. Pain throbbed from his temple building up to the kind of headache
he had in university after his one and only two-day bender. His chest ached as
if an elephant was sitting on it. What the hell happened? A groan turned
into a racking cough that made the throb increase to a pound and he lifted his
hand to grope for the axe that must be sticking in his head. A lump the size of
a golf ball graced his hairline. No wonder his head was killing him.
    “Welcome back. Take it easy, you fell in the pool and hit
your head.”
    The gentle American voice made John reluctantly squint his
eyes open. Intelligent greenish-brown eyes smiled at him and memory came
flowing back. His neighbor, his wet neighbor, hair slicked back, shirt
clinging to the muscular planes of his chest. John closed his eyes and groaned
again as he realized that instead of saving his neighbor, he had ended
up rescuing John.
    “Sir, step back please. We’ll take care of him now.”
    John’s eyes snapped open at the intrusive growl and he
turned his head to see one of his four shadows frowning at them while two more
tried to break up the ring of curious onlookers. All three were dressed
casually but he knew the long shirts concealed holstered guns and two of the
three carried small handheld radios. Ignoring his rescuer’s look of concern, he
pushed himself upright and tried not to wince at the increased pressure in his
skull.
    “It’s all right, Dan, Ah’m all right.” His voice was
hoarse. Dan Sanders only shook his head and turned to help the other two men.
“Don’t move. Just sit right there until the doctor checks you out.” John
scowled and looked back at his neighbor. The man had turned to frown at Dan’s
back but John hadn’t missed that blink of surprise at his broad Scottish
accent. Ten years working in the States and it hadn’t faded any. His friend and
colleague, Max, called it “a date magnet” and John couldn’t deny that he might
have taken advantage of that a time or two. Mind you, he wasn’t usually in
serious need of a shave and a haircut—not to mention a fashion consultant—when he
spoke to men he was interested in. He forced a smile onto his face and
discovered even that hurt as he offered a hand.
    “John. I believe we’re neighbors. You have no idea how
pleased I am to meet you. Thanks for haulin’ my arse out of there.” He coughed
again, easier this time, but his throat still burned like fire from the
chlorine. His rescuer looked away from the guards and smiled at him, shaking
John’s hand briefly.
    “Robin Grant. It was nothing. I think it was my fault
anyway, I should have been watching where I was going.” He nodded at Dan.
“Maybe you should listen to him, John. You hit your head pretty hard. Not to
mention you