"I'm looking for that bitch Rhees. You told her about the board, didn't you?"

"What in bloody hell is wrong with you today?" Claire asked. "Rhees is new, she won't be on the board for a while."

Paul shot Claire a cold, if-looks-could-kill glare. "She's on tanks and bathrooms. She already fucked up tank duty this morning. If you don't explain the board, and get her on the bathrooms in the next few minutes, I might just kick her ass and finally fire yours. If it weren't for Dobbs, I'd have done it a long time ago."

Claire stood and returned his stare with the same vehemence he sent her.

"Dobbs isn't the reason I'm stuck in this hell-hole of an office all day. If you want to be here instead of me, go right ahead. Fire me, you wanker," she hissed.

"Explain the damn board to her!" Paul boomed. "She'll be on the same duties until she can learn to do her part around here." He picked up a clipboard, wrote something on the page, and slammed it down on the counter before walking out.

Claire looked at Rhees with wide eyes. "What the hell did you do?" She said each word with emphasis.

Rhees searched her mind for the answer. "I don't know. Nothing!" She thought of one thing-but that couldn't possibly be it. ". . . I didn't sleep with him." Her voice was hoarse.

Claire's furious expression changed to admiration. "Come on. I'll show you everything you need to know around here. You and I are going to be chums."

Chapter 5.

Four days later, Rhees arrived at the shop at five thirty in the morning. She wasn't scheduled to be there until five forty-five, but she was sick of Paul telling her how late she was every day. She would show him by showing up extra early. "I dare you to tell me I'm late today, Mr. Grumpy Pants."

Paul had been treating her horribly. She never knew anyone could be so cruel, and she never would have believed she could hate anyone before now. She cried herself to sleep the first few nights and wanted to quit, but Claire urged her to not give Paul the satisfaction.

"He thinks he's punishing you," she'd said. "You've said you don't mind the work because you like to keep busy. So do the work and just ignore his foul disposition. It'll drive him bonkers . . . and I like having you around. Please don't give up."

Next to burying both parents within such a short time, it was one of the hardest things she had ever done, to stay and deal with such an unpleasant situation instead of running away. Claire had been right-knowing that he wanted to break her brought out her stubborn side. It kept her going.

She made it a game. She'd never been a game player, but it spoke of satisfaction to some unfulfilled part of her to play this one. If she offered to sleep with him-the last thing she would ever do-he would win. If she quit and ran home-her normal tendency-he would win. She wasn't experienced enough to know how to come out the winner, but she was darn sure he wasn't going to win either.

She could do grumpy. She didn't like it, but she was used to it. Her dad had been a hard-headed, strong-willed, and quick-to-tell-you-his-opinion kind of man. Her friends were scared of him, but as hard and scary as he could be to deal with at times, he was protective of her and made her feel safe. And then there was one sad fact always in the back of her mind-it seemed easier to stay and put up with Paul than to face her reality so soon. She no longer had a home to run back to.

The experience had actually turned into a good thing for her, and it didn't take her long to realize it. She had to search deep into her character for a stronger part of herself, a willful side that refused to give up-for once in her life. That's why she came to the island in the first place. She didn't expect to find it quite this way, but she convinced herself that the situation with Paul turned out to be more helpful than she'd anticipated her once-in-a-lifetime adventure to be.

"Ha! I beat him." The lock still hung on the office door and she reveled in her triumph.

She checked the board and sighed aloud. Paul still had her on the same duties-the worst ones at the shop. She didn't mind that as much as not seeing her name scheduled to be on the boat. She was ready. She'd finished her bookwork, had watched all the videos, and had taken and passed all the written tests, as well as all the underwater drills. She'd even passed the swimming test, her greatest concern.

She'd never been a strong swimmer without fins, but the salty water of the ocean made her more buoyant than she'd ever been in a swimming pool, and it had been much easier than she'd expected. She would be officially certified as soon as Paul scheduled her on the boat so she could get her five dives in the open water.

However, Paul, and Paul alone, decided who went out on the boats each day, and so far, she'd never seen her name on the board, except under the chore chart. Fourteen students at the shop and for some reason, hers was the only name that ever came to mind when he thought of tank schlepping and bathroom duty, but the last one to be on the boat. The whole thing was insult enough, but she stared at how he wrote her name on the board.

Bathrooms: Danarya She reached into the chalk box, grabbed a piece, and climbed up on the bench. She used her fingers to erase the name she hated and wrote in Rhees. She stepped down and brushed the chalk off her fingers, beaming with satisfaction. She looked at the section of the board where students wrote their names to sign up to be on the boat. She'd written her name there every day, but Paul had so far, blatantly ignored that fact. It gave her an idea.

She erased her name as Rhees, and wrote in, Danarya. "Maybe that's the problem." She laughed at herself, knowing it wasn't true but a thrill shot through her, anticipating how it would get to Paul. This could be bad, she thought, but she didn't care.

She walked around the building, feeling a sense of relief that she had a few minutes to enjoy being there without Paul's fuming eyes constantly scrutinizing her.

She reached the other side of the shop and decided to check the bathroom. She could at least run the toilet brush around the bowl and sweep it out so he wouldn't have anything to complain about. She didn't think to wonder why the door was open and walked right in.

Paul jumped and almost fell off the toilet seat from the surprise when Rhees came barreling through the door of the bathroom and screamed.

He let out a string of cuss words. "What are you doing here so early?" No one ever showed up early. He had no choice but to try to diffuse his embarrassment by acting annoyed. "No sense in wasting your timely arrival. Open up." He tossed her his keys. Shit! "I suppose you're going to have a lot of fun telling everyone about this."

"About what?" She sounded convincing as she walked away to unlock all the doors and turn on the computers in the office.

He shook his head in disbelief. He'd figured out she was probably too nice to use this embarrassing situation against him; at least, she pretended to be. "Yeah, I bet it'd embarrass you more than me to tell anyone about this," he muttered, knowing she couldn't hear him. He reached for the toilet paper.

"Damn it," was only the first in another long stream of obscenities when he realized his childish antics had finally sneaked up on him and bit him in the butt, almost literally.

"Danar . . ." he started to holler, but suddenly, there she stood, leaning against the door jamb, not looking his direction, but holding a roll of toilet paper, spinning it around on her finger with a smug look on her face.

"Need this?" She didn't do a very good job suppressing a knowing smile. "At first I thought you really needed to start rationing toilet paper. Make people come to the office to get their . . . what do you think, five squares? Because, you know, we really go through it around here." She smiled again, pleased with herself. "But then I had this idea, a suspicion really. I started marking the rolls before I put them in the bathroom, because we did go through it so fast. Somehow, the same rolls mysteriously show up back in the locker. It's the weirdest thing. I think you may have ghosts, a real poltergeist."

In spite of his position, she dared to turn and give him a very disappointed, disapproving glare. "I don't understand why an intelligent guy like you needs to act like such big baby."

"I am big, and women call me Baby all the time. They call me God a lot, too." He smirked.

"You're only building my case, you big baby."

"I am nawt a baby."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are."

"Not."

She rolled her eyes and tossed the roll of toilet paper to him.

She had the shop all opened up, ready for the others to arrive, and sat waiting at the compressor to start their morning routine. Paul walked to the fresh-water shower provided for the divers to rinse off after their dives and washed his hands as Rhees watched with a look of wonder on her face.

He glanced around, trying to see the problem.

"Why didn't I think of that?" She threw her hands in the air and smiled at him with wide eyes, as if he'd just invented water. "All this time, I've been trying so hard to ignore the fact that there are very few public bathrooms on this island and even fewer sinks. It's been hard enough to know I can't always wash my hands, but everyone else . . . Blech!" She stuck out her tongue. "I can't even go there."

The next thought popped into his head before he could stop it.

Why does she have to be so damned cute?

Paul went to work filling tanks while Rhees schlepped them to the boat. It'd become their routine. It wasn't fair for him to make her do it, day after day-bathroom and tank duty were the worst jobs at the shop-but she never complained. She also never noticed how he'd stopped having Dobbs or Mitch show up early to help so he'd have the time alone with her.

She picked up two tanks and carried them off. She'd never managed more than one before now. He actually grinned with admiration.

Having her at the shop to help those extra few minutes left them with time to spare, and the two of them wound up awkwardly staring at each other. He certainly couldn't let her have the satisfaction of besting him. He thought about what other dirty jobs he could have her do. The only thing that came to mind was his daily computer work. He hated what he called his Dailies.

As office manager, the Dailies were originally part of Claire's duties. She did them for about two months after he bought the shop. But one day, she declared she wouldn't do them anymore; she flat-out refused. He threatened to fire her, but she called his bluff. Without her, he'd have to do all the office work, and that meant he'd never see the sun again.

A thorn in his side, he told himself he only kept Claire around because she came with Dobbs. Dobbs was a good man, and with the exception of Mitch, he was the best friend he had on the island as well as the only person, together with his wife, he trusted to take care of things when he couldn't be around. The Dobbsons had been at the shop, as acting managers, trying to save up the money to buy it from the aging owner, when Paul happened onto the island three years before.

Paul had been wandering the world when his travels brought him to the island and the shop. He felt a burning need to stay the moment he stepped off the plane. He bought the shop out from under the Dobbsons, paying cash, one of the many reasons for Claire's disdain toward him. Claire did her job very well, and as much as he threatened on occasion to fire her, he didn't want to lose her help. He had no choice but to tolerate her bad attitude until they saved enough money to buy their own shop someday. He didn't mind the fact that it would take a while for them to do so.

"Come on. I have a new job for you," he said to Rhees. He led her to the office. "And if you touch my board again, you'll be sorry," he said in a simple, matter-of-fact way.

"Oh really?" she answered sarcastically. "What are you going to do? Put me on your crap list?"

He looked at her from the corner of his eye and had to bite the inside of his cheek so he wouldn't laugh. He sat down at his personal computer and paused a minute, deciding whether he really wanted to do this. He finally gave her his password and started showing her how to do his least favorite job of all.

That afternoon, Rhees pulled Shelli aside to ask another question. She'd finished her lessons but until she successfully did her open water dives, Shelli was officially still her instructor. Since Paul purposely denied her the dives she needed to get certified, Shelli was stuck with her. Rhees always had a question or two, and Shelli did her job like a professional, but everyone knew Rhees wasn't Shelli's favorite person.

Tracy and Regina believed Shelli to be jealous of Rhees, a sentiment shared by more than a few of the other students as well. Shelli was one of Paul's favorite sex-mates. No one else, except some girl named Ginger, had been known to come close to being a girlfriend. Apparently, he made his position on relationships very clear: he wanted nothing more than sex, and being the most gorgeous man in the world, he got away with it. Girls practically waited in line for their turn.

In Tracy's never-kept-a-secret-opinion, Paul had been with every pretty girl on the island. Only a handful of girls held the honor of being his repeats, or regulars, and at the moment, Shelli held the position as the winner with the most notches in her belt. Tracy also seemed to think Shelli felt elevated above the others for that reason.

"She acts like the Queen Bee," Tracy said.

Shelli was very beautiful. Rhees wondered what it would be like to be so perfect-perfect face, skin, hair, and body-perfect like Paul, the perfect couple. However, Tracy's gossip on the matter confused Rhees.

"Why would Shelli be jealous of me?"

Krista, Dorene, and Brita were pretty, and also on Paul's list of regulars. It puzzled Rhees how they could all be such tight friends. It was like belonging to some private club-Paul's Coitus Club. Rhees smirked at her newly coined name for the girls. She concluded that as long as Krista, Dorene, and Brita didn't forget that Shelli was the president of the club, it all worked out somehow.

There were other girls on the island who belonged to the club too, but it seemed easier for those girls. They didn't have Shelli around all day, reminding them who held the position as his favorite.

Paul couldn't walk down the street without girls approaching him-everywhere he went, they flocked to him. It was no wonder he was so sexually active. How could any guy resist such easy offerings?

"Blech!" Rhees cringed. She wondered why any woman would debase herself with a guy like him. She found the idea disgusting. Yes, he might be the perfect physical specimen of a man, but Rhees believed there were better, more important qualities that made a man attractive.

Shelli explained ambient pressure, again-something Rhees continued to struggle with. Paul came around the corner with a girl from one of the other dive shops. They laughed and horsed around, making it impossible for anyone not to notice them. They worked their way to the end of the dock, where Paul took the girl in his arms and gave her a long, passionate kiss.

He looked back at Rhees just before he pushed the girl into the water and he jumped in after her. He dragged the girl, who continued to giggle all the way, to Frock. Shelli watched as well, obviously not happy about it. She gave Rhees a dirty look and stormed off.

"Frock." Tracy leaned toward Rhees and spoke discreetly.

"I get it," Rhees said dryly.

"See, no one can really see anything." Tracy acted as if it was perfectly normal, almost admirable.

Rhees turned, refusing to watch. It didn't matter if she couldn't really see. Just knowing made her nauseated. She stormed off too.

"It's official!" Rhees complained when she came back from lunch, her tone loud and resigned. "There isn't one ounce of peanut butter on this whole freakin' island!"

"Peanut butter?" several people said at once.

"That stuff is disgusting. Why do you want peanut butter?" Tracy asked.

"Are you kidding? It's a main staple for me. I might have to go home early just because I'm going to die here without it."

Dobbs walked up. His large, tall body cast a shadow over Rhees. "They have Vegemite. Have you tried that?" He pushed the wire-framed glasses farther up the bridge of his nose.

"Is that like peanut butter?"

Paul walked up at that moment. "No. Vegemite is a disgusting paste that tastes salty, malty, and bitter." He took a stab at Dobbs, his Australian friend, and didn't actually intend to engage Rhees in conversation. She didn't want to talk to him either, so she walked off, leaving Paul and Dobbs to discuss whether peanut butter or Vegemite held the honor as the most disgusting food on the planet.

She wandered into the office and decided to work on the Dailies.

"Bloody hell!" Claire threw her pencil at the wall.

"What's wrong?"

"A potential customer I've been working on decided on another destination. We only have one group of tourists on the books right now, and that's next week. We have nothing after that. We need more customers. The students are good money while they're enrolled, but they don't leave when they're finished. They stay for months and once their instruction is done, they get to dive at a very good discount. It's killing our bottom line."

"Is the shop in trouble?"

Claire glanced at her and then looked around to make sure no one lurked within earshot. "Not really, but sort of. Like I said, the students are good money but once they're done . . . It would be best if we could just keep a steady stream of real, paying customers coming in. Right now, I think Paul is subsidizing the shop from his personal bank account."

The thought of the shop not doing well made Rhees sad. She'd fallen in love with it and the island. Except for Paul, and maybe Shelli, she really liked it there.

"So how do we get more tourists?"

Claire shook her head. "I don't know. Paul is supposed to be some toff, the dog's bollocks in the business world, but for some reason, he hasn't put his heart into this. He would rather dive, ride jet skis, surf, parasail, and shag every woman on the island. You name it-anything but work. Oh, did I mention, shag every woman on the island?" They both laughed.

Later, Rhees thought about what Claire said as she wrote the daily post for the shop's blog. She still needed to post the dive pictures for the day, one of her Dailies. While she waited for the computer to load the pictures, she scrolled through past posts, the ones Paul had posted before she took over. Every post looked the same, a picture of some sea creature, a picture of a wreck, a picture here and there of divers diving. She looked the website over and started surfing the Internet and various social media sites.

She went back to the shop's site and read through the comments. She noticed one past customer, a female, had posted a comment with a picture. Rhees stared at the picture for a minute. Paul stood next to the woman, his arm around her and there was no doubt in Rhees' mind that he had slept with her. The comment read, "This is my dive master. Can you see why I can't wait to go back to Paradise Divers?" Rhees rolled her eyes.

Nothing else really stood out. She searched the Internet again. She searched other dive shop sites and studied them. There were a few things she thought would be nice to incorporate into Paradise's web image, but she was under strict instructions from Mr. Grumpy Pants on how he wanted it done. She sighed.

Rhees walked into her apartment, happy to be home. It had been a particularly stressful day, so she'd left the shop a little early. She strolled into the kitchen and opened the fridge, trying to decide what she wanted to do for dinner. She settled on a quesadilla in hopes of saving a few pennies.

She turned and noticed Regina's laptop on the table. Regina had apparently left her camera to upload pictures to the computer, and Rhees watched as pictures of Paul flashed one after another on the screen. She moved to the table, sat down and watched mindlessly at the sheer number of pictures running across the screen. When it finished, the file sat open, revealing a folder devoted entirely to Paul.