Private Paradise(23)

“If I'm not mistaken emergency planning is a significant part of my job here. I had extensive experience in the military planning for and dealing with natural disasters. I know you'd like for me to keep my distance but I think in this case you need to put whatever personal issues you have aside and let me contribute.”

Carla felt her face flame red. How dare he accuse her of being unprofessional? So what if she was still reeling from what had happened in the gym? She'd never let that get in the way of doing what was best for the guests and the resort. And Sam was right. Emergency and evacuation planning fell under his umbrella and he no doubt had more hands-on experience than Carla by far. Still, it almost choked her to admit, “You're right. Tell us your suggestions.”

In a sick way, Carla was almost grateful for the storm barreling their way, as it provided a much-needed distraction as she and Sam worked side by side to get the resort buttoned up and the guests and staff down to the dock to be taken to St. Thomas by ferry.

It saved her from having to summon up every last shred of control to pretend she was indifferent to him, that she didn't obsess over Sam's very revealing apology every waking hour of her day. With the clock ticking and only a few hours to get everyone off Holley Cay before the storm hit, for the first time in a week she didn't have time to argue with herself about whether or not she should put any stock in what Sam had said.

About how sorry he was, how much he'd cared about her. How he hadn't meant what he'd said, that he'd only lashed out in a fit of insecurity.

Under the best of circumstances, she didn't have time wrestle with herself, trying to convince the stupid, naïve girl inside of her, the one who still had a soft spot for her first love, that nothing he said mattered. She'd spent all week repeating to herself that it was all over and done and he could be as sorry as he wanted but it didn't mean she'd be dumb enough to open herself up to Sam, or any other man for that matter.

Now, she barely had time to think as they put the evacuation plan into action. Carla took a few minutes to shower and change. Forgoing her usual wardrobe for obvious reasons, she pulled on a pair of Bermuda shorts with her Holley Cay polo shirt and slipped on a pair of running shoes that would protect her feet if any debris started flying.

She met Sam in the lobby, where he was doing an admirable job of keeping the guests' anxiety under control.

“Are you sure it's safe for us to take the ferry?” fretted a rail thin blond with a strong New York accent. Her husband, a senior partner in a major investment firm, looked equally concerned.

“The ride to St. Thomas is only about forty-five minutes,” Sam said, his deep, measured voice betraying none of the stress he was feeling. “As long as the ferries leave the dock in the next hour there should be no problem avoiding the first wave of the storm.”

Despite his reassurances, there was an anxious murmur among the guests as they milled around, clutching purses and carryons, taking turns looking wide-eyed out the windows over a sea that had grown choppier in the last several minutes.

Carla couldn't blame them for their fear. Though the storm was still a hundred miles away from Holley Cay, it had already passed Puerto Rico and inflicted major damage to the strip of hotels along the island's south west tip.

She could only pray that the storm would lose some of its force by the time it reached Holley Cay.

In the next several minutes, she helped Sam and the rest of the staff get guests loaded onto the resort's fleet of golf carts to be shuttled down to the dock. Despite the stress working with Sam had put on her in the past week, now she was grateful for his presence.

Not only did he remain unruffled even as Carla struggled to keep her cool in front of the guests, his aura of leadership, combined with his height and muscle mass were more than a match for the massive egos of several of the resorts' guests.

Anyone who questioned the methods of evacuation or the order in which guests were being transported was politely but firmly put in their place as the rapidly dwindling crowd was taken to the docks.

Soon the lobby was empty, but as Carla did a quick tally in her head she realized the occupants of one villa were unaccounted for.

“Where are the Waters twins?” Sam echoed her thoughts.

Carla didn't bother hiding her frustrated groan. “Probably still sleeping off whatever they did last night.”

“I'll go drag them out of bed,” Sam said, his voice grim.

“No way. I know you were special forces and all, but I wouldn't put it past them to tie you up and hold you as their sex slave, never mind the storm coming in.”

Sam actually blanched at the thought. Carla suppressed a grin, wondering if he knew how many points he scored with his visible revulsion to the idea. “You go help Rodney make sure everything is locked down, and I'll meet you at the dock.”