Minutes later, she choked out a sentence. “Why did you
stop?”
Pace propped himself up on one massive tattooed arm and
ran his thumb across her cheek. “Nothing sends ‘the Bishop’
back to
The Heartbreak Hotel
faster than a crying woman.”
She laughed at that, but the sound was jarring and disingen-
uous. Even though she kind of wanted to hire a sniper to take
him out, she would have done anything to have Phillip there in
her bed with her instead of Pace. She not only missed sex with
him, but she missed everything about him. Everything about
them
.
She covered her mouth as the truth landed on her like an
anvil. When she finally looked at Pace, he was studying her
thoughtfully.
“You love him.” It wasn’t a question, not in the least. She
responded with stoic silence.
For several moments, he seemed to puzzle over what to do
133
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
with her lack of denial. Finally, his expression hardened, and he rolled off the bed I one swift motion. When he started dressing, she didn’t bother to object.
“This is the last time, Red. Don’t call me again.”
The blinding sun came out from behind a cloud, and Steph
slid her sunglasses from on top of her head down over her eyes.
She’d been very leery after the mishap with Pace, so agreeing to see Christopher had taken some serious thought. Steph tried to
put all men out of her mind as she leaned back in her seat and
picked up her coffee cup. It was impossible. Through the pano-
ramic windows, she observed the blue sky was peppered with
billowy, cotton-like clouds. Yara’s parents were swimming laps.
Another breathtaking morning in paradise, and Steph still felt
like she was looking at in a coffee table book, or watching it on t.v. She could almost hear Christopher’s amateur analysis that
she was disconnected from the experience, like she was holding
the entire island at arm’s length. She really needed to call Chris.
He’d been nothing but good to her, and she owed him an expla-
nation. As soon as she scraped one together, she’d be sure to
provide it to him.
Saffron sat down at the table offering Steph a mimosa, but
she shook her head in response. She decided she was going to
remain alcohol-free until the wedding reception. Tomorrow
morning she would do some sunrise yoga on the beach and may-
be get a massage before the wedding party monopolized the spa.
She needed a healthy way of coping with Phillip and everything
his presence in her life brought along with him. It was time to
grab hold of the reigns.
As Yara’s parents entered the building from the poolside
patio, a breeze rolled in from the sea. It was an example of an-
other perfect Noronha day. The forecast was rain-free, unlike the next two days, which were a bit iffy. She wished the wedding
were today, for Yara’s sake. She wanted to spend the rest of the trip focusing on relaxation and taking care of her hosts, David
134
RAGE
and Yara.
Today, their fretful hostess planned an excursion to the vil-
lage center and the historic forts for some sight-seeing and shopping. Then tonight was the luau at Praia da Conceição. It was a
celebration of the full moon on Noronha. Supposedly the moon
was so bright you could see the rocks in the water, and there
would be a huge bonfire dance party that lasted until dawn. After ditching out on the second half of the boat excursion, Steph had vowed a blood oath to Cedric and Cheyenne that she would follow Yara’s wedding itinerary from here on out.
Cheyenne and Scot entered the dining room holding hands.
Steph shifted her eyes away from them to Liam; they were posi-
tively glowing, and it was almost painful to witness that level of happiness.
“’Ello, son!” Scot boomed, scooping Liam out of his seat
and kissing him loudly on the cheek in rapid fire succession.
Liam squealed and giggled hysterically. Cheyenne plopped into
the chair next to Stephanie. Nathan smiled at her knowingly.
“Thanks for the sound effects last night. Your enthusiasm
really motivated Saffron to up her game.” He raised a glass to-
ward Cheyenne, who turned a vivid shade of fuchsia. She
glanced at her husband and covered a smiled with her hand. Scot
wriggled his eyebrows up and down at his wife looking like a
super-hot version of Groucho Marx. A sideways grin tugged on
Steph’s lips. She remembered how hard Cheyenne had fought
against Scot’s pursuits when they first met. Steph had always
been partial to Scot. He was so genuine and approached Fury in
a business-like manner she found admirable. He never seemed to
be caught up in his own press like Nathan, and unlike Phillip, he didn’t deceive himself that he was “changing the world through
art.”
Phillip.
His name rolled around like a poisoned marble in her brain. Steph felt as if she were being pelted with tiny shards of loneliness. She rolled her eyes at herself beneath her sunglass-135
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
es and took another big swig of coffee.
She pulled her satellite phone from her purse. Cheyenne
reached out after her as if about to tell her something urgent, but Steph held up a finger for her to wait. She wandered to the far
edge of the infinity pool as she pulled up Christopher’s number
and pressed the call button. She had no idea what would come
out of her mouth, but she’d waited way too long to call him back and had to do or say something. She went directly to voicemail.
She shook her head. He must be in a meeting, she thought. She
suddenly needed to hear his reassuring voice.
She felt a bit sentimental as she remembered the night she
agreed to start seeing Chris. She’d gone to a New Year’s Eve
party at Rick Gervais’s house, mostly because Gordon Ramsey
was going to be there, and she was obsessed with him. When he
called to invite her, Ricky made her promise she’d do her im-
pression of Gordon
for
Gordon, but when the time came, Steph ironically found Gordon incredibly intimidating. Thankfully,
Gordon ended up being surprisingly cool and down to earth, and
right after she’d shouted at him to ‘fuck off out of her kitchen’ in a flawless accent, she turned around and found herself face to
face with her agent.
“Christopher!” It was quite a surprise to see him in a social
setting. He wore a bold navy suit, and Steph was struck by how
handsome he looked with his new nose courtesy of Phillip Ker-
sey. It had been awkward between them since he confessed his
feelings were more than just professional for her, and they’d on-ly spoken by email and via text since that time.
“I see you’re insulting my client.” Christopher smirked, and
Steph looked over her shoulder at Gordon Ramsey.
“He’s your client, too?” she laughed, and Christopher nod-
ded.
“They give me all the ‘challenging personalities,’” he dead-
panned, and she laughed.
“Hey, now! At least I didn’t punch him.” His lips curled in
136
RAGE
an appreciative grin, and he whirled her onto the dance floor and promptly pulled her securely into his strong arms. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy it in a Disney Princess sort of way.
Within three songs, he reaffirmed his interest in dating her.
“Do you like French cuisine?” He pulled her closer against
him, and she felt the odd tingling sensation she hadn’t felt in far too long.
Stephanie opened her mouth to decline and was surprised
when she didn’t want to. She hadn’t dated a “civilian” since
Pace, and considering how poorly her last two relationships had
gone, shifting gears might be just what she needed to do.
“Sure. You can take me out for French food some time. No
escargot, though. Maybe French fries.”
A week later, he turned up on the doorstep of her Paris
apartment with an overnight bag, and the rest was history.
She tried to call him once more, and once more the call
went to voicemail. She swore at herself and hit the disconnect
button. She had an ominous sense of déjà vu, wondering if she
should check her email for a letter of resignation and a separate
“Dear John” letter.
When she returned to the group, she noticed they’d been
joined by David and Yara. As Steph took a vacant seat near the
empty end of the table, she noticed Yara’s face was bright red,
and she was raving to Cheyenne about something. Cheyenne
looked like she was trying to keep a poker face.
“So I went to their room, and they were still passed out in
their beds. I counted seven hairy men in their rooms. Seven!
What a bunch of cadelas!” Yara gesticulated wildly with her
hands. Saffron shrugged, and David chuckled.
“Yes, it’s hilarious, David!” She glared at her groom-to-be,
and he sipped his coffee quietly. “And you two!”
Steph looked over her shoulder to see who Yara was yelling
at and saw Phillip and Bret sauntering up. Both men looked at
each other in obvious confusion.
137
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
“You had them doing booby shots before they even got to
the bar last night.”
“Body shots, darling.” David offered as Nathan cackled.
“Whatever! Thanks for contributing to their antics,” she
snapped. Phillip glanced uncertainly at David, and Bret
shrugged.
“What? Did they get arrested or something?” Bret asked,
and Cheyenne made a motion with her hands to silence him.
Steph tried not to laugh and glanced toward Phillip, who seemed
to be enamored with her boots. She crossed her legs defensively, and his eyes slowly shifted to her face. He seemed caught off
guard that she was watching him, and without releasing her gaze, he swiftly took the seat next to her. Steph felt her eyebrows
shoot skyward in surprise as he turned his entire body to face
her, leaning in as if he were going to start a private conversation.
A hushed silence fell over the table, and Steph yanked her
eyes away from Phillip’s to see the assembled band members
gawking at them.
“Feeling a bit bold today, Kersey?” Nathan’s droll delivery
made Bret snort. Cheyenne shot Nathan a deadly glance.
“Shut up!” she snarled and stood, crossing to Steph’s side.
“Stephanie, I need your help with something before we leave.”
Steph realized her chest was rising and falling rapidly. Her
cheeks felt feverishly hot. She stood automatically and followed Cheyenne with a backward glance at Phillip, who had flopped
back in his chair looking frustrated.
Once they were around the corner by the hammocks, Chey-
enne spun on her.
“What was that?” Steph asked, and Cheyenne shrugged in
genuine confusion.
“Did you get ahold of Christopher?” Cheyenne asked, peek-
ing through the windows at the group behind them. Steph
glanced back over her shoulder, suddenly feeing paranoid.
“I just tried. No answer.”
138
RAGE
“Try again,” Cheyenne snapped.
“Chill out, Cheyenne. What the hell’s with you?”
Cheyenne grabbed Steph’s arm, her eyes emphatic. “Phillip
knows.”
“Knows what?” The look on Cheyenne’s face told her eve-
rything she needed to know. A tidal wave of nausea swept over
Stephanie, and she shoved Cheyenne out of the way as she ran to
the nearest bush and threw up.
As she stood, gasping for air, Cheyenne spoke. Her voice
was calm and matter-of-fact.
“I told you to tell him last night.”
“Well I didn’t! So who the hell did?” Steph sucked in a
large amount of air, trying to keep some of her breakfast down.
“Cedric. It seems he didn’t realize that Phillip didn’t know.
Because, you see, it’s just fucking madness that you didn’t tell him ages ago.” Her nonchalant delivery would normally have
made Steph verbally attack her, but she’d been thrown off her
game.
“Dammit, Cedric!” Steph exclaimed, and Cheyenne glow-
ered at her furiously.
“He’s leaving. Today, actually…in a couple of hours. He
said something about not wanting to enable you anymore. He’s a
pretty wise man. Are you sure the two of you are related?” Steph was too stunned to respond.
“Cheyenne…” She finally found her voice, scratchy from
vomiting.
“I don’t want to hear it, Steph. I’m tired of listening to your
twisted logic, and I’m pretty much tired of talking to you. Or
should I say talking at you? It’s like talking to a brick wall.”
Cheyenne turned and headed back in the direction of the group.
Steph stood staring after her. She scrambled around the building and made her way up to her room, where Kara was putting on
her shoes.
“Good God! You look like shite! What’s on your dress?”
139
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
she asked. Steph grabbed a black sundress from her suitcase and
vanished into the bathroom without a word. She hurriedly
cleaned up, reapplied make-up, and brushed her teeth. She raced
to the front desk to arrange for a ride to Cedric’s pousada. She had the same chauffer, Enrique, with whom t she always seemed
to get stuck. This time, Enrique wouldn’t even look at her for the entire ride.
Without knocking, she flung open the door to Cedric’s
room. He was zipping up his suitcase.