The Trouble With Paradise

Table of Contents

 

 

PRAISE FOR

THE TROUBLE WITH PARADISE

“Murder, storms, and intrigue lead to rough seas indeed, but eventual sunshine is never in doubt.”

—
Publishers Weekly

“If you have not read a Jill Shalvis novel yet, then you really have not read a real romance yet either!”

 

“Riveting suspense laced with humor and heart is her hall-mark, and Jill Shalvis always delivers.”

—
USA Today
bestselling author Donna Kauffman

“Witty, fun, and sexy—the perfect romance!”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Lori Foster

“Shalvis brings us a compelling, humorous, and very steamy romance between a witty heroine and her sexy hero of choice . . . will keep readers amused from beginning to end.”—
Romantic Times

 

PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF

Jill Shalvis

“Shalvis writes with humor, heart, and sizzling heat!”

—
New York Times
bestselling author Carly Phillips

“A writer of fast-paced, edgy but realistic suspense . . . fiercely evocative.”—
Booklist

“Delightful . . . Jill Shalvis rules.”—
Midwest Book Review

“Fast-paced and deliciously fun . . . Jill Shalvis sweeps you away.”—
USA Today
bestselling author Cherry Adair

“A fun, sexy story of the redemptive powers of love . . . red-hot!”—
New York Times
bestselling author JoAnn Ross

“Wonderful romance, wonderful mystery. Always.”

—
Affaire de Coeur

THE TROUBLE WITH PARADISE
DOUBLE PLAY
SLOW HEAT

THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP
Published by the Penguin Group
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Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

 

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

THE TROUBLE WITH PARADISE

 

A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY
Berkley Sensation trade edition / October 2007
Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / September 2010

Copyright © 2007 by Jill Shalvis. Excerpt from
Double Play
copyright © by Jill Shalvis.

 

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

 

eISBN : 978-1-101-46089-4

 

BERKLEY
^®
SENSATION
Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,
375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.
BERKLEY
^®
SENSATION and the “B” design are trademarks of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

 

 

To Kelsey for giving up homework time to look up iguanas in the South Pacific for me.

 

To Megan for doing the dishes every time I whined about my deadline.

 

To Courtney for sometimes cooking her own dinners of questionable nutritional value during the writing of this book.

 

And last but not least, to David for putting up with me since before the fall of Rome.

PROLOGUE

 

Only a week ago, Dorie Anderson’s nighttime fantasies had run along the lines of, say, Matthew McConaughey, but now as she lay on the long, golden stretch of beach, staring past their shelter to the star-riddled night sky, she fantasized about chocolate chip cookies.

Make that double chocolate chip cookies.

Sorry, Matthew, but priorities were priorities. Stuck on a deserted South Pacific island without cookies? Serious suffering going on.

All around her came the sounds that people tended to buy those nature CDs for: the waves gently hitting the shore, crickets chirping, an exotic bird squawking . . .

Her stomach growling.

She put her hand on her belly, thinking she’d give her right arm for an entire bag of cookies all to herself. Maybe even her left as well.

“How’s the patient?”

Ah, there he was, the bane of her existence. She knew this because just his voice made her nipples go all happy.

She felt him sit in the sand at her side but she didn’t look at him. Nope, looking at him was a really bad idea because then her brain would begin that painful tug-of-war.

She sighed. “Go away.”

“Ah. You’re feeling better.” He lay next to her so that his arm brushed hers, the one she would definitely sell for that bag of chocolate chip cookies.

“Question,” she said.

“Hit me.”

“Do you ever think about chocolate?”

He turned his head and looked at her. He was all hard, lean, sinewy lines to her soft, curvy ones. She imagined if she pointed out how different they were, he’d say he liked those differences very much. “I think about other things,” he said.

“Like?”

“Things.”

His arm shifted, just barely pressing into the side of her breast. And more than just her nipples got happy.
Bad. Bad body.
“I’m tired,” she said, and yawned to prove it.

“Here’s something to wake you up.” Instead of taking the hint and leaving, he rolled to his side, facing her. “Our bet.”

Oh, no. “We are not going to talk about the bet.” No way.

“That’s because you lost.”

“You cheated.”

He was silent, letting that lie live a life of its own as she remembered the details . . .

As if she could forget.

“You could just pay up,” he suggested.

That thought shot tingles of excitement directly into certain areas of her anatomy that had no business getting excited. She closed her eyes, a bad idea because her other senses took over. How did he manage to smell like heaven on earth while on a deserted island? “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He just laughed softly.

“You didn’t hit your head that hard,” he said. “You
know
.”

“You’re not going away. Why aren’t you going away?” she asked desperately, knowing
exactly
what he was talking about, exactly what bet she’d made, and what she now owed him, which involved her.

Dancing.

Naked.

Beneath this very starlit sky. “If you were nice, you’d go.”

He lifted a broad shoulder. “Never claimed to be nice.”

Also true.
Damn it.

“Plus we’re stuck on an island,” he pointed out. “Just how far away do you think I can go?”

Keeping her eyes closed, she sighed again. She really hated it when he was right.

ONE

 

Damn, it was hard to run in her cute new cork-heeled sandals, but Dorie pumped her arms and did her best as she made her way through the parking lot. She was only five minutes late for work, but the store manager of the Los Angeles Shop-Mart she worked for had fired people for less. In fact, Mr. Stryowski was on a downsizing spree, firing staff left and right, which meant it’d been a really bad morning for her alarm to malfunction.