Chapter 4

Abby suppressed a full-body shudder as McMaster’s self-assured leer licked over her with agonizing slowness, and she was reminded why she hated working with him. It seemed he was declaring to onlookers that he already knew what was under the thin fabric of her tank and shorts and only had to lazily snap his fingers to get her to unclothe herself for him.

His gaze touched on one breast, slid to the other, then lowered to the juncture of her thighs. Feigning supreme boredom, the only giveaway that it wasn’t so was the jerk’s ugly bottom lip protruding a fraction. “Show me already.” The rude double-meaning vibrated within her, as he paused, then continued. “I want to know I haven’t wasted my time on this shit-hole of a beach.”

She fumed but took care to hide it. So he wasn’t going to come down like a normal human being to see her shots. Fine. He’d probably be copping looks down her top as she climbed up the platform too.

She flicked a glance in Dare’s direction and saw the thin edge of his irritation as he leveled a disapproving look at McMaster. A tiny bit of surprise flickered through her.

What was that about?

McMaster cleared his throat in warning. “Quit making eyes at the new guy, toots. Leave him alone. A pro like him doesn’t need you gawking at him.”

Oh. So Dare happened to be in his good books. Fine. Whatever.

Getting ready to climb up, she shielded her eyes from the noon-day sun and squinted upward. Blue hues, dazzling, stretched over them in an endless, tropical sky.

But she still had to deal with this jerk. Schooling her face to give him a semblance of respect, she forced her voice into a professional tone, despite the ruckus her inner child was kicking up. “The PlayGal shots are here. I think you’ll find them good.”

He snorted. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

“The ones I need you to sign off on are here, too.”

His beefy hand circled, waving her upward. “Sometime this decade, Pointdexter.”

Stuffing down the anger coiling in her, she wrapped her fingers around the wooden post and hoisted herself up the first rung. The tiny fleet of boats bobbing gently against the shore caught her eye, and a streak of longing shot through her.

If she didn’t need this slime-ball, she’d be so gone. She’d grab one of the boats, row herself over to the cruise ship anchored a short distance away, and dump this gig. Hell, the steam of her suppressed anger alone would give her the energy.

But a clutch of emotion, of loss, slammed through her. Reminded her. Everything really was different now. The choices she’d once had had evaporated as if they’d never been.

It didn’t matter who she worked for, or if they treated her fair, or even if the wage paid for the necessities of life.

She just had to be working.

The ocean-slicked breeze tugged at her hair as she climbed up the rungs doggedly. A ragged splinter from the weather-beaten wood stabbed its way into the soft flesh of her palm, and she hissed in a sudden breath at the pain.

Blood welled, upset her stomach like blood always had. She clenched her eyes shut, willed the moment to pass.

Luckily, she heard McMaster talking to someone on his cell, so she had a moment to deal with it. Balancing herself, she sucked at the painful area. It was a big one. She managed to get it to shift, but it tore her skin. She had to work fast, before McMaster yelled at her again. To add insult to injury, the cruise ship shifted into her line of vision, gently taunting her.

Right over there were people just like the ones she’d grown up with. Like the person she’d been, herself. Where money—obscenely huge amounts of it—was always available, like oxygen.

Vacations. Designer clothes. Stock portfolios. Servants. Ease. Toys.

Yet here she was, working for a creep without any job security. Tolerating his ignorant comments. His gropey, sexual looks.

And not for the first time, the thought slammed into her brain.

Maybe I should have…

But no. Her stomach heaved as she remembered the showdown. The price had been hideously high and payment would never have ended. A life with every choice dictated by her parents, structured for only one purpose: to heap praise—their type of praise—on the Haines’ family name.

Haines, they’d told her, had built careers in commerce, law and government, and had never done anything insignificant.

Or worse…common.

A career in artsy-fartsy fooling-around? Not happening, little girl. Now if you were some well-known photographer, with major credits? Had done something significant in the field? Maybe.

Maybe.

But playing around with pretty pictures? Not happening.

She remembered the rush she’d felt at the short stint of freedom she’d enjoyed right after university. The job she’d taken creating a photo-journal for the small group of environmentalists charting an unnamed river in the Arctic. She’d loved that gig. She’d known she was making a difference. And the work, the joy of it, had simply consumed her.

She’d been so on fire about it, a dream had emerged of helping troubled kids take up the craft. Helping teens kicked around by life find a way to see the beauty in everyday life. Photography had given her so much, and she’d wanted to pass that on. Though nothing had come of it, she still had her notes, though she hadn’t looked at them forever.

But it was different now. She licked her finger, smoothed the broken skin.

Life had become about survival. The lattes she’d come to love on Tenth Avenue in New York during her internship had already disappeared from her lexicon.

If she hadn’t had the unexpected and surprise friendship of Danica, Emily and Kelley, she’d have been all alone. But what was the use of having best friends if you rarely saw them and had been too busy working to keep in touch?

“For shit’s sake. Are you taking a lease out down there?” McMaster jeered at her, his hand covering the cell to muffle the gibe.

Whatever the gossip mill in her former strata spit out about her and her fall from grace, right now, she just had to get through this gig.

With that encouraging thought, she gave the palm of her hand one last rub, and started upward toward the now raised eyebrows and dark look.