Free Stranded in Paradise by Lori Copeland Page A

her chin in rivulets. How can he be so calm? She thought.
    â€œFine. I just want to get into dry clothes.”

6
    She wasn’t about to let bad luck get her down, Tess decided the next morning when she woke up.
    Dazzling sunlight filtered through the window as she lifted a slat to look out. Paradise shimmered like a priceless jewel in the rain-drenched harbor . Papahanaumoku — Earth Mother—as the emcee had called it last night, looked to be in a better mood this morning. And so was she. Smiling, she dropped the louver back into place.
    Her thoughts drifted to Denver. She was tired of wondering what was happening at Connor.com . Len Connor could take a flying leap; Chuck Somebody could wrestle with hiring, resource allocation, compensation, benefits, and compliance with OSHA laws. After an eighteen-hour day manning the phones and handling Connor.com ’s problems, the “good ol’ boys” could kick back, have a beer, and try to figure out the mess.
    Tess wasn’t going to lift a finger to help. The thought was liberating.
    She stared at her reflection in the mirror. A tan—she needed one of those billboard browns that would be the envy of every woman in Denver. She wanted to look her loveliest when she spooned crow onto Len Connor’s plate.
    After eating pineapple and cinnamon toast in the grill, Tess then headed to Makena Big Beach with a new umbrella and a bottle of Maui Baby, Maui Island’s Secret Browning Formula. She’d bought a beach chair, too.
    She braked in the public asphalt parking lot and hauled the newly purchased items out of the trunk. By the time she got to the beach, the shoreline was already swarming with scantily clad men and women as they staggered beneath the weight of overloaded backpacks, boogie boards, and snorkel paraphernalia.
    After turning the beach umbrella just so, she reached for the tanning lotion and peeled out of her turquoise-and-hot-pink-Hawaiian-print sarong. What she’d do with the superfluous piece of clothing in Denver she didn’t know. Pretzeling herself into the chair, she began applying the lotion then leaned back and relaxed behind oversized sunglasses, prepared to spend a leisurely morning. Lazy wavelets of aquamarine water lapped against the shoreline. Feathered fans of palm leaves wove a dark tracery against a sky so blue it made her heart ache. A gentle breeze brought the tang of sea salt mixed with the intoxicating aroma of flowers. An exotic blended fragrance not found in a bottle.
    She wondered what Connor.com peons were doing. Slaving away over copy machines, no doubt, staring numb-minded at blinking cursors and answering ringing phones.
    She sighed. She missed it. Missed the hassle, the adrenaline rush—really missed it. But she wondered, was that the meaning of life? To slave away at a job she got no recognition for? Or worse, for just a paycheck. Wasn’t there supposed to be a deeper meaning in all of this?
    Sun beat down. The sound of laughing children’s voices drifted toward her. The kids were building a sandcastle on the beach. Children. Precious little miracles. Would she ever have any of her own? She’d been so busy building a career that she had never really paused to consider the question. Thirty-two wasn’t ancient, but she could hear her biological clock ticking—or was that the idiot’s rap music, farther down the beach, blaring in her ear?
    Lazily warm, she dozed, opening her eyes occasionally when she heard the excited cries of a beachcomber who’d spotted a whale frolicking near one of the islands jutting out of the water. Big whoop, she thought irritably.
    Suddenly the wind shifted. Sand kicked up—instantly coating the Maui Baby tanning lotion in a grainy sheet.
    She sat up, shielding her eyes as sunbathers started to race past her. Big Beach had suddenly turned into the Sahara Desert with a sandstorm approaching. The wind machine-gunned gritty pellets at