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  “Maggie May!” she exclaimed, using her old nickname for her friend.

  The broom forgotten, Allison hugged her tight, grateful to see a friendly face again. “Good Lord, how long has it been?”

  “Six or seven years, at least.”

  Allison’s eyes teared up as she stepped back. Maggie’s elegant blond hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She wore a black pair of slacks and a chic, short-sleeved black sweater. But then Maggie had always looked like some fashion model walking away from a shoot. “You look fantastic!”

  Maggie beamed, until she looked Allison up and down and then the smile faltered. Not in a condescending way, but in a way that said, “I’m sorry I got out and you got trapped in this godforsaken place.”

  Allison offered her a joking grin, even though a part of her was mortified at what she knew Maggie saw.

  She stood in front of her elegant friend in her dark blue polyester smock, ill-fitting jeans and faded-out, oversized shirt. Worse, her own frizzy blond hair was in bad need of a trim and deep conditioning. Neither of which she could afford at the moment.

  “I’m sorry about your mom,” Margaret said quietly. “Had I known, I would have been here for the funeral.”

  Allison patted her arm as her throat tightened. She’d loved her mother more than anything. Ten years ago when she and Maggie had graduated high school, Maggie had gone to the University of Georgia, then moved off to New York after graduation to be an editor. Meanwhile, Allison had stayed home to help her mother, who was dying of cancer. For nine years her mother had fought hard and then last spring, she’d lost the war.

  God, how she missed her. It was still a raw, aching pain inside her. Her mother had been everything to her.

  “I know,” she said, rubbing Maggie’s arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even think about sending word to you until after the funeral was over. I just wasn’t in my right mind.”

  Maggie nodded in understanding. “You’ve been busy. My mom told me that you’re engaged to Gary Mitchell. Congrats. I know how much you always loved him.”

  Allison drew a shaky breath as she thought about her rattlesnake ex. “Yeah,” she said in an overly exaggerated tone. “Just l-o-v-e him to pieces.”

  “Uh-oh. That sounds ominous.”

  She sighed as she picked up the broom. “Well, I found the dog in bed a week ago with one of the strippers from the Night Owl.”

  Maggie’s face showed the horror Allison had felt when she’d stumbled in late from work to find the two of them going at it in her bed. “No!”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I grabbed my broom, swept both pieces of trash out of my house, then I went through and decided it was time to do a little fall cleaning. I gathered up everything of his I could find, threw it into a pile on my front lawn and then proceeded to have a weenie roast. I’m told you could see the flames for up to a mile away.”

  Maggie laughed. “What did Gary do?”

  “He called the cops and I spent the night in jail. But it was so worth it. I just wish I’d been able to get my shotgun loaded before the police got there and had had a chance to fill his backside with buckshot….”

  “Allison? Are you on break?”

  Allison cringed at Dan’s voice coming from behind her. She looked around to see his soured frown. “I’m just helping a customer, Dan. She wanted to know where the lightbulbs were.”

  He didn’t buy it for a minute.

  Allison led Maggie away from his hearing. “Sorry, Maggie, I can’t really talk right now.”

  Nodding, Maggie let her gaze dip down to the pocket of Allison’s smock where the top of her book was peeking out. She smiled. “Sugar and Spice by Rachel Fire. You like it?”

  “I love it. It’s a great book.”

  Maggie’s smile widened. “I edited it.”

  “You did not!”

  “Yes, I did. She’s one of the authors I discovered last year.” Maggie tilted her head and looked back down the aisle to where Dan was still watching them. “Look, I don’t want to get you into trouble. What time do you get off work?”

  “Midnight.”

  “Okay, I’ll be waiting out in the front lot with a pizza, a pack of Ho Hos and beer. Sound good?”

  Allison laughed. When Maggie had been a college student, they would always celebrate her homecomings with pizza, Ho Hos and beer. A disgusting and yet somehow quite tasty salute.

  “Sounds great. I’ll see you in three hours.”

  Maggie stepped away from Allison, and headed straight toward the middle-aged floor manager who had been eyeballing them with tangible rancor.

  “That’s a great employee you have there,” Maggie said to him. “She really knows the store.”

  He gave her a semi-hostile glare and walked off, leaving her with the childish desire to stick her tongue out at the soured beast.

  But that would wait.

  Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Maggie turned to see Allison straightening shelves.

  She checked her wristwatch.

  It was right at nine o’clock, and she knew exactly where her boss would be. Where he always was…sitting at his desk, working late into the night.

  Z answered his cell phone on the third ring.

  “Hey, Mr. Z, shouldn’t you be at home?” It was an old joke between them. In truth, she was just as bad to work late as he was. But then she loved her job as an editor and as the head contest coordinator, and as a result, she had a hard time leaving her work behind at the end of the day.

  “And why are you calling me at nine o’clock when you’re supposed to be on vacation?” he asked in that deep sexy/provocative voice that always made her shiver.

  But not nearly as much as the breathtaking man who held it. At six foot four, with a lean, rippling body that had been built for sweaty, exhausting sex, Wulfgar Zimmerman was one of the sexiest men who had ever been born.

  “Oh because I’ve found us a live one,” Maggie said. “Allison George. I went to high school with her and if she isn’t a prime candidate for Hideaway Heroine, then I’m not a workaholic and you’re not rich.”

  Z was silent.

  Maggie imagined him sitting at his large mahogany desk, staring out onto his breathtaking view of the New York skyline with the light of his desk lamp cutting across the chiseled planes of his face.

  Wulfgar Zimmerman, Z to his friends and family, was one of the richest men in the world.

  He was also the loneliest.

  Though to be honest, Maggie couldn’t figure out why. There were plenty of women, herself included, who would practically sell their souls to call him their own. But Z wasn’t interested. Ever since his wife had died three years ago, he’d withdrawn from the world.

  She wondered if anyone would ever be able to reach him again.

  “Island B is open,” he said at last. “You set things up on your end and let me know what you need to do to put this plan into motion.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  “And Maggie?”

  “Yes?”

  “Try not to work too much while you’re at home. Enjoy your family. There’s nothing else like them in the world.”

  She smiled. Z was also the kindest man she’d ever known. No wonder everyone in the company was so loyal to him. He didn’t believe in treating them like employees. He treated them like family.

  “I will.’ Night.”

  He answered in kind, then hung up.

  Maggie turned her phone off as she glanced back to where Allison was helping a customer.

  Little did her friend know, her life was about to take an unexpected turn.

  Nothing would ever be the same for Allison again.

  Chapter Two

  Three weeks later

  What exactly is Hideaway Heroine?” Allison asked Maggie while they sat inside the famed Elizabeth Arden Beauty Salon, where Allison was being pampered like a queen.

  Allison had only dreamed of ever coming to New York,
never mind having a makeover at one of the most prestigious beauty salons in the world.

  She still couldn’t believe she’d won the drawing. Any more than she could believe the size of the limo that had picked her up at the Newark airport and brought her to the Waldorf-Astoria where she would stay for the next two days while they bought her a wardrobe and made her into Robin Daniels from the book.

  It was a dream come true.

  “Hideaway Heroine is kind of like Fantasy Island,” Maggie explained. “For one week, you get to live there as anyone you want to be. You can do anything you want to do, eat anything that appeals to you and best of all, you’re surrounded by nothing but gorgeous men who will wait on you hand and foot.”

  Now that sounded like something far beyond wonderful. Imagine an island of men at your beck and call…yum!

  “Are you serious?”

  “Oh yeah.” Maggie smiled. “Just wait until you see these guys. You are going to think you’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  She already had that feeling. “Is it safe?”

  “Absolutely. There will be security guards hidden among the men. Nothing happens on the island unless you want it to. Everything there is geared for you and your tastes. Only your favorite foods will be offered, all the places you stay will be the colors you choose—that’s why you filled out that stack of forms when you won.”

  Allison leaned back in the chair as the pedicurist came over and started to work on her feet.

  Wow. This was the most unbelievable moment of her life. The sweepstakes had really paid off for her. In addition to the week of heaven, she’d also received ten thousand dollars in cash and a brand-new car. It was more than she’d ever dreamed of having.

  “Thank you, Maggie.”

  “For what?”

  “For letting me win this.”

  Maggie looked aghast at her. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  Yeah, right. Allison waved her words away. “I’m not stupid, you know. I’ve never won anything in my life. Then you show up, make me fill out the entry form and the next thing I know, I’m getting a phone call telling me I’ve won. I know you pulled a few strings and I really appreciate it.”

  “I promise you, it wasn’t me. If you want to thank someone, thank Mr. Z when he picks you up at the hotel and takes you to the airport. He’s the one who bought the islands and set this up for the winners.”

  Allison thought about the mysterious billionaire whose acts of charity were legendary. The tabloids and papers were full of how Wulfgar Zimmerman spent more money than he kept.

  “How many islands are there?” she asked Maggie.

  “There are three where you’re going. All of them linked together by bridges. Z owns eight of them altogether in different parts of the world.”

  “And they’re set up just to make someone’s dreams come true?”

  “Yes.”

  Allison had never believed in fairy tales before. But for the first time in her life, she was beginning to. “You must have a great boss.”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Ma’am?” the pedicurist asked.

  Allison turned toward her. “Yes?”

  “What color would you like your toenails?”

  “Red,” she said without hesitation. “Fire-engine red.” Robin Daniels wouldn’t be caught dead in anything less than that. And for the next week, she was going to toss off her old shell and bust loose.

  Watch out world, Allison George was going to sow some wild oats.

  Or at the very least scatter a few dandelions.

  She looked back at Maggie while the lady began painting her toenails. “So what happens to me when I get to the island?”

  “Your biker group will meet you at the airport and ‘Harry,’ Robin’s supposed biker boyfriend, will put you on his motorcycle. You and the gang will ride out to Dino’s Bar and Grill, where you’ll have dinner and play some pool.”

  “Until Brendan shows up?”

  “Just like in the book.”

  Allison liked the sound of that until she remembered what else was in the book. Robin and Brendan made out like bunnies whose only mission in life was to create their own population explosion.

  She wasn’t a virgin, but her sex life had never been much to talk about. She’d always been painfully shy and body-conscious—something her ex hadn’t helped as he complained about her extra pounds. Unlike Robin, the real life Allison wasn’t some svelte bombshell. She was a nice and even size fourteen, which at five foot five wasn’t fat, but it was a far, far cry from the skinny ideal.

  And if the guy pretending to be Brendan really looked like the “god” Brendan in the book, he was more likely to run in the other direction than he was to approach her.

  This was not good.

  “Will I be expected to…” She bit her lip as she looked uncomfortably at the woman at her feet. “You know,” Allison tried again, “will he treat me like Brendan treated Robin…and as many times as Brendan treated Robin?”

  Maggie laughed as she caught her meaning. “What happens between you and Brendan is up to you and you alone. What you do period on the island is up to you. Everyone there is a consenting adult and no one will ever be forced to do what they don’t want to. But when it comes to that, we have a strict don’t ask, don’t tell policy. Everything is in your hands. You can take your fantasy just as far as you want to.”

  “What if he doesn’t like me?”

  “What’s not to like? Besides, this is your fantasy, girl. You can rewrite the book any way you desire. Believe me, there will be plenty of other guys around so that if you and Brendan don’t hit it off, I’m sure you can find someone appealing. I’ve seen some of these guys. They will all curl those red toenails until your feet look like corkscrews.”

  Allison liked the sound of that. In her small Georgia town, there were only a handful of truly spectacular men and all of them were taken.

  She couldn’t imagine being anywhere with an abundance of perfect male specimens.

  She shivered in excitement.

  The hairdresser returned. “I need to put her under the dryer for a few minutes.”

  Maggie nodded. “I’ll go grab us some Cokes.”

  Allison got up and dutifully followed the beautician to her new seat. She leaned back as the beautician lowered the hood and turned the heat on.

  Closing her eyes, she conjured up an image of Brendan from the book. Oh yeah. Tall, blond and gorgeous, he was the kind of guy that could make a woman melt.

  What would it be like to actually touch that body? To kiss those lips and run her hands over his naked skin? To run her tongue over his stubbled cheek and glide his rigid shaft into her body?

  She’d never had the kind of mind-blowing, stop-the-clock sex she read about in books. Gary had made her happy before she found out about his extracurricular activities, but he had never made her burn. Never made her scream out in a blinding orgasm.

  She wasn’t really sure if any man was able to do that to a woman.

  Maybe it was all a myth.

  But what if it’s not?

  Three weeks ago, she would never have believed that a minimum-wage worker from backwoods Georgia would be sitting in Elizabeth Arden in New York getting a pedicure either.

  Imagine. Her on an island full of men whose only job was to make her happy.

  Allison shook with nervous expectation and excitement. Forget her shy, awkward self. For the next week, she was going to be Robin Daniels. Femme fatale. Woman of the world who could get any man she wanted.

  Watch out island. This little country girl was finally going to get her due!

  Allison spent the next two days with Maggie, shopping and preparing herself mentally and physically for the coming week of fun.

  When Wednesday morning arrived, she was as nervous as a three-tailed cat in a rocking chair factory. All of her new clothes had been taken first thing to the airport.

  Now she was waiting for the mysterious Wulfgar Zimmerman to appear.
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  Maggie had warned her that Z never spoke much and that he always greeted the winners personally. She couldn’t imagine what he must be like. Maggie hadn’t really gone into it.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Allison jumped up and rushed toward it, then reminded herself that she was Robin.

  Robin never ran, she moved slowly, seductively.

  Oh to hell with that, she ran to the door and opened it, then gaped like an idiot as she caught sight of the most incredibly handsome man she’d ever seen.

  Z stood a good six foot four in a pair of faded jeans that hugged a body made for nibbling. He wore his dark brown hair just past his shoulders in a careless style that said he wasn’t into his looks.

  Still, it was devastating.

  He was devastating.

  A pair of black sunglasses covered his eyes and he had at least three days’ worth of stubble on his face. He looked dark, mysterious.

  Dangerous.

  In no way did he resemble some billionaire tycoon who spent his life trying to make other people’s dreams come true. He looked more like a movie star heartbreaker.

  No wonder Maggie had told her most people in his office building thought he worked in the mail room. Rich men were not supposed to look like this.

  “Hi,” she said, her heart pounding.

  He inclined his head. “You ready?”

  All she could do was nod.

  Z held the door open for her as she numbly walked through it. Then he pulled the door closed and led her toward the elevators. “Have you enjoyed your stay here?”

  She nodded again while he pushed the button for the elevator.

  Of its own accord, her gaze swept down the back of him…over his black motorcycle jacket that displayed his wide shoulders to perfection, to his lean hips and butt that were covered in denim.

  Oh yeah, this man had one finely shaped rump.

  Grrrrowl…

  Suddenly, she realized Z was watching her from the mirror on the wall between the elevators. That he could see her blatant case of Ogle-the-Stud.

  Covering her face, she felt her cheeks grow hot. Please, please let her die now before she embarrassed herself even worse!