Her phone pinged with another incoming text, and she read it.

Did the package get there yet?

Rob.

She gazed at the box with the bow and reached out for the tiny card jauntily shoved into the ruffles of the ribbon.

Wear these tonight. I hope they make you seven fucking feet tall, because then you will be seven feet of glorious woman and I’m man enough to enjoy every inch of it.—R

Heat stained her cheeks again and she pressed the back of a hand to her skin to cool it. Gosh, he was always making her blush, wasn’t he? She pulled the lid off the box . . . and gasped at the shoes inside. Silver platform peep-toe pumps with a nearly six-inch heel. They were studded with tiny crystals all over the shoe leather, and glittered like Cinderella’s glass slipper. She picked one up wonderingly.

It was enormously tall. She’d be a giant. They were garish and impractical and sky-high.

But they were also sparkly, girly, and utterly gorgeous.

Marjorie turned one over in her hands, checking the size. Her size. How had he known . . . ? Her fingers smoothed over the Jimmy Choo stamp on the bottom of the shoe. They had to be expensive. Jimmy Choo didn’t make cheap heels. She should return the present and just send Rob a thank-you.

But then, she pictured his reaction. He’d cuss and stomp his way over to her room and make her take the shoes anyhow.

And . . . she kind of loved them. She was such a cliché—a girl that adored shoes. But so what? How often did she find someone that wasn’t terrified of her height and didn’t want her to wear flats? He liked how tall she was. And she liked the shoes.

So she slid them on and nearly swooned at how good they felt. The leather practically caressed the arches of her feet. Impulsively, she took a picture of her feet in the shoes and texted it to him.

Perfect, he sent back a moment later.

Is this part of your seduction plan? she asked him.

Might be. I’m pretty good at this sort of thing, huh?

She had to admit that yes, he was rather good at it after all. And she was really, really looking forward to their date tonight.

So when do I get to see you again? he sent back.

She gazed down at her gorgeous, impractical shoes. Then, impulsively, she texted back, How about now?

Chapter Fourteen

Rob wanted to meet her that afternoon, but he suggested they meet at a gazebo in the resort gardens. Definitely more romantic than the lobby, Marjorie thought with a smile, and agreed to meet him there in a half hour. She was humming as she changed into something a little sexier for her date—a dark navy slip dress that she normally wore with a sweater and leggings—and put on her sparkly heels. She felt rather pretty, and hoped that Rob thought she was, too.

The path out to the gardens was on the far side of the Turtle pool and lounge. The resort had several pools, but the Turtle one was popular with couples instead of families due to its multiple hot tubs. She glanced at it casually as she passed by and was startled when a man with a microphone and two guys with cameras seemed to emerge from the bushes and approach her.

“Hey, doll,” the guy with the microphone said. “Tell us your name, sugar!”

Marjorie hesitated, alarmed. “Not your doll or sugar,” she told him, and tried to sidestep the men.

“You’re looking sexy today,” the guy with the microphone continued, following her as she tried to go around them. “I don’t suppose you want to earn a little extra cash?”

Her jaw dropped. “W-what?”

“That’s right, baby! Tits or GTFO!” He waved a handful of money at her. “Show us your stuff and we’ll reward you.”

She stared at the man, gaping, and then at the cameras. Then, with a gasp, she ran as fast as her platform heels would carry her, heading for the gardens and the gazebo.

“Guess she’s not interested,” the man with the microphone called. “Your loss, sweetheart!”

Show these horrible men her breasts? She was going to be sick! Horror made her rush, and her ankles protested as she stumbled down the path. She wanted to head back into the resort and hide, but the men were blocking the path. She was pretty sure she heard them laughing, too. Humiliation burned in her breast, and by the time she found the gazebo, she was nearly in tears. She barely spotted a man in a black, collared shirt and jeans, sporting sunglasses. That must have been Rob. She stumbled as she approached him, twisting her ankle and practically falling into his arms.

“Marjorie?” Rob asked. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

She leaned against him for a moment, relieved, and winced at the pain in her ankle. “I-I—”

“Here, sit down,” he told her, gently leading her to the steps of the gazebo and helping her get seated. “Are you okay? You look upset. And you shouldn’t run in those shoes.” A hint of a smile curved his handsome face. “If you wanted something to jog in, I would have sent you something more appropriate.”

She couldn’t even laugh at his teasing. Instead, she felt the insane urge to burst into tears. Marjorie clutched at the front of her dress and shook her head, unable to speak.

“Marjorie?” Rob’s voice was concerned. He sat next to her and took her hand in his, squeezed it. “You gotta tell me what’s bothering you, sweetheart. I don’t like this.”

The endearment coming from his lips reminded her of the horrible man with the microphone, and she shuddered. “There was a man. With a microphone. He—he tried to get me to take my top off. For money! In front of cameras. And when I said no, they . . . laughed at me.”

Rob was silent.

His lack of response just made her feel worse. “I’m sorry,” Marjorie said. “Maybe I’m overreacting. I just feel . . . accosted. That’s all. Like they thought if they pressured me I’d take my top off. It was horrible.”

He squeezed her hand. “You do not apologize,” he told her in a firm, angry voice. “I’m not upset at you. Just the situation. I can’t believe those jackasses came after you.”

She shook her head and held his hand tighter. “I’ll be okay. I just—”

“No,” he said, getting to his feet. “You wait right here. I’m going to go have a talk with them.”

“No, Rob—”

“I’m handling it, Marjorie.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stalked down the path, his steps clearly furious.

She blinked in surprise as he disappeared, her awful feeling of distress giving way to a weird sort of pleasure. Was this what it was like when a guy got defensive over you? Protective? God, it felt way too good. Addictive, even. She rubbed her arms and then hugged her knees, waiting for Rob to return.

He did about five minutes later, rounding the corner of the tropical gardens, an irritated look on his face. He slipped his sunglasses back on as he headed toward her, shoulders tense. “It’s taken care of. Those fucking jackasses won’t bother you again.”

“Did you tell management?”

“No, I had a talk with them. They listened to me and they’re going to leave you alone.” His jaw was set, stubborn. “Dumbasses.”

“That must be the guy that Logan’s upset about,” Marjorie said. “He told me at lunch that some tabloid creep is here on the island trying to get his attention by crashing the wedding. We should tell him about it.”

“Tabloid creep? Who, that guy?” He thumbed a gesture back at the bushes. “He’s a peon. Like I said, he’s handled.”

“Yes, but Logan will want to know that I ran into him. Think—if he’s attacking girls like me, he’s probably attacking everyone that walks past. Logan’s going to be so upset—”

“It’s taken care of, Marjorie,” Rob said in a firm voice. He put his hands out for her. “Come on. I don’t want to give that guy another thought while we’re on our date. I’d rather think about you and me.”