An old man sat behind a desk, watching television.
“Hello, I’m…I’m Daniel Jones.”Dan leaned against the counter, holding his breath as a sharp pain shot up his leg.“I’ve booked the…the bungalow.”
“Ah,Kia Orana, Mr.Jones.You’re here at last.”The man slowly got to his feet, his dark, glassy gaze shifting over Dan’s new lost property outfit.“You came from a fancy-dress party?”
“No.A child… Never mind.”Dan gripped the counter.If he let go, he’d fall flat on his face.He managed to pull his passport out of his bag and slid it across to the old man, who merely waved it away.
“It’s late.The paperwork can wait.I have all I need from your wife.”
“My wife?”Dan pushed himself off the counter, but by the time he straightened and caught his breath, the old man had already shuffled out of earshot.“Hey!”
Dan shuffled after him.
“This way,” the old man called over his shoulder as he headed through a door that led back out into the wind.A hammock flapped between two palm trees as they crossed a heavily scented garden.Clouds raced across the dark sky, and a few spots of rain hit the side of Dan’s face.“You’re a very lucky man, Mr.Jones.”
“Yeah, so people keep telling me.”
“Your wife is very pretty.”
“Thanks.”Isabella was more than just pretty.She was beautiful, but… “Hey!”
Dan caught up with the old man at the bungalow door.
“What are you talking about?”Isabella was in LA—which wasn’t the only reason she wasn’t here by his side now.“I don’t have a wife.”
Chapter 2
Asthewindblusteredoutside, Liberta Jones sank onto the huge, king-sized bed, exhausted.Pulling the cool, soft cotton sheets up to her chin, she watched the palm trees through the window bend horizontally in the wind.
Mr.Hehu, the hostel owner, had dismissed this storm asjust a breeze, saying it would pass by morning.Nothing to worry about, he’d said, so Libby slipped deeper into the silky haven of the gorgeous bed and thanked her lucky stars.
After getting through that awful flight to Rarotonga, she deserved this bed.A bed in a private bungalow!There was even a little path in the yard that led down to the beach, through a little gate.
Libby snuggled farther into bed.Beside her, Karim slept like an angel.Poor baby.She reached out and gently touched his forehead.He didn’t have a fever, and the bug was most probably out of his system by now—he’d still be unsettled and puking if it wasn’t—but even so, a tsunami of guilt engulfed her.Karim hadn’t seemed right all afternoon, but she’d been busy shooting herGoodbye to Aucklandvideo and hadn’t banked on the bus to the airport running late.There hadn’t even been time to take off her makeup, not that she’d been thinking about that when she’d been sprinting to the departures lounge, pushing Karim in his stroller and fearing they’d miss their flight.
Another wave of guilt consumed her.
Was she doing the right thing, living this transient lifestyle?
It wouldn’t be forever—just another six months, maybe a year—and then she’d be back in the States…somewhere.Maybe back in LA… Maybe working for Juliana Cortez again?
Yeah, right.That old witch would want a pound of flesh on a silver plate for that to happen.
For seven years, Libby had worked under Juliana atHot Gossip, reporting some of Beverly Hill’s top stories—dirty politicians, corrupt cops, sordid affairs between high-profile celebrities who really should’ve known better.They were all in a day’s work for Liberta Jones as she worked her ass off trying to prove that she could be somebody people listened to when she came calling.Somebody who made a difference.
Until she’d gotten pregnant.
“A baby?”Juliana had spat out the word.“You’re not seriously thinking about going through with it?You’ll be giving up everything.”
With hormones running wild, Libby had burst into tears.She’d never planned to have a baby—ever—and she hadn’t wanted to give up anything.But Elliot had said the same thing the night before, and still emotional from that confrontation, her temper had spiked.She’d told Juliana where to stick her stupid job.
“You’ll be begging me to come back!”Libby had said and then stormed out ofHot Gossipone last time.
Yep.
She’d need a massive scoop to ever get that job back—or any other reporting gig in Beverly Hills for that matter.And how could she work those sporadic and erratic hours with a small child, anyway?
For now, she had to focus on the content she planned to create, as well as the more pressing articles she’d finally persuaded Parent and Child to publish.After weeks of waiting, the magazine had finally agreed to partly fund her and Karim’s travel to the Cook Islands.The tight, two-week deadline for the articles was already making her stomach clench with the fear of failure, but even if it meant staying up all night, every night, Libby would get those articles written.She had no choice.Once published, they’d shine a much-needed light on her fledgingTravels with My Childchannel and brand.
