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His By Christmas
Teresa Southwick
From Four Weeks to Forever Parasailing. Hang gliding. Rock climbing. That's what hard-driving exec Calhoun Hart had planned for his monthlong Caribbean jaunt. Until a skydiving accident puts a crimp in his plans—and puts him back into work mode. First order of business: fly in a personal assistant. But how's the once-burned bachelor supposed to resist the serene, superefficient redhead who has more than his bottom line working overtime?Justine Walker could do a lot worse than this tropical Eden. And working with Cal is reaping unexpected benefits. Like helping the widow heal from a tragic loss…and showing her sexy, never-stops-to-smell-the-roses boss how pleasurable downtime can be. But once vacation's over, are they ready to take a leap of faith and keep paradise in their hearts forever?


From Four Weeks to Forever
Parasailing. Hang gliding. Rock climbing. That’s what hard-driving exec Calhoun Hart had planned for his monthlong Caribbean jaunt. Until a skydiving accident puts a crimp in his plans—and puts him back into work mode. First order of business: fly in a personal assistant. But how’s the once-burned bachelor supposed to resist the serene, superefficient redhead who has more than his bottom line working overtime?
Justine Walker could do a lot worse than this tropical Eden. And working with Cal is reaping unexpected benefits. Like helping the widow heal from a tragic loss...and showing her sexy, never-stops-to-smell-the-roses boss how pleasurable downtime can be. But once vacation’s over, are they ready to take a leap of faith and keep paradise in their hearts forever?
“I was protecting you.”
“From yourself,” Justine clarified.
“Yes. If I hadn’t pulled back, there’s no way I could resist touching you, and that would make it impossible not to have you.” Sincerity and longing darkened Cal’s eyes.
“You wanted me?” She was almost afraid to believe it was true.
He kissed her and whispered against her lips, “I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you.”
“That’s hard to believe. I’ve read about your dalliances. Every last woman was beautiful and perfect.”
“No one is perfect,” he said.
“The women you dated came pretty close.”
He studied her. “Sounds like you’re having second thoughts.”
“Not really. I’m just giving you an exit plan.”
“What if I don’t want one?” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “In case you’re still not convinced, I’ll make this as clear as I know how. I want you more than I’ve wanted any woman. Ever.”
* * *
The Bachelors Of Blackwater Lake: They won’t be single for long!
His by Christmas
Teresa Southwick


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.
To Susan Mallery.
Your amazing creativity is only exceeded by your generosity in sharing it. You’ve always charged forward with your arms outstretched, urging other writers along with you. I’m grateful to be one of them and even happier to call you my dear friend.
Contents
Cover (#u305901b9-1f6d-5d52-aba9-0e8acbe90705)
Back Cover Text (#u197d8240-4de9-5540-83ea-b59088558df9)
Introduction (#u4cadaaf9-c708-5fa2-9120-69e97240389f)
Title Page (#ueb171816-73a9-5915-8da7-9f6b01687a97)
About the Author (#u95d29409-4253-5bda-8cc6-367b83431ba7)
Dedication (#u4094f959-9f36-51d9-9bbe-7d2333c95c53)
Chapter One (#u3690c24e-9a0d-54e5-8b88-ff457ee92464)
Chapter Two (#udccd2a1b-8f31-5efc-a945-4b61e4787788)
Chapter Three (#u83d31452-9f55-5897-a9d0-6fa58c2d32f4)
Chapter Four (#u9240e3c9-d2e5-574b-bbaa-bdebf435f61c)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#ucaf959fd-9ebe-5587-8ef0-b2f81d1e6665)
“I’ve had sex recently.” Calhoun Hart hoped there was enough self-righteous indignation in his retort to make the lie believable.
“You are so lying.”
“You don’t know that.”
Sam Hart, his older brother, stared at him for several moments, gave him a pitying look, then laughed. “I’d put money on the fact that I’m right.”
“I don’t need money.” Cal was the president of Hart Energy and had plenty. “What I want is that classic car Granddad left you.”
“The Duchess? That’s never going to happen. And it wasn’t personal. He said it needs tender loving care and that takes time. Which you don’t have because you’re always working.” Sam shrugged. “And I’m the oldest. Get over it.”
Cal knew he meant get over second-son syndrome. He would never be first. In the line of succession he was the spare to his older brother’s heir. For as long as he could remember, if Sam was going somewhere, doing something, Cal wanted to do it, too.
Although not marriage, which is why family and friends were gathered in a banquet room at Blackwater Lake’s newest hotel—Holden House. Sam had just gotten married and promised to love and honor Faith Connelly, the town florist. The invitation had said Reception Immediately Following and apparently the groom believed it was open season on Cal’s sex life since his own was in pretty good shape. And he’d never seen his older brother look happier. For once the thought didn’t crank up his acute competitive streak. The truth was, Cal envied him.
“I’m over the whole car thing,” he declared. It was another lie, but he was hoping the groom would be distracted and quit ribbing him about his missing-in-action personal life.
“You’ll never be over it, little brother.”
“You’re only nine months older,” Cal reminded him.
Sam straightened his black bow tie, the one he wore with his traditional black tuxedo. “And an inch taller.”
Cal couldn’t do anything about that, either. He blamed the combination of chromosomes, DNA or whatever it was that had resulted in his own light brown hair and blue eyes and being six foot one instead of six foot two or more. But the reminder was just as annoying now as it had been for his whole life.
“Sam, you’re an ass,” he said. “Tell me again how you talked Faith into marrying you.”
His brother glanced around the crowded room until he found the beautiful bride dressed in a lacy, long-sleeved, floor-length white gown. She met his gaze as if somehow knowing he’d been searching for her and blew him a kiss. “I had a little help from a miniature matchmaker named Phoebe.”
The bride’s little girl. Cal couldn’t deny she was a cute, precocious child. “What did she see in you?”
“Good question. Maybe she knew I needed her and her mom more than they needed me.” Sam was dead serious. “I’m adopting her.”
“Even more reason to congratulate you,” Cal said just as sincerely. “You really do have it all.”
“And you don’t,” his brother needled him. “In fact, you’re not getting any, either.”
So much for having a moment. “How can you possibly know that? Are you stalking me?”
“Don’t have to. I always know where you are. Working.”
“So you’re studying surveillance footage?”
“Don’t have to do that, either, now that you’ve set up an office for Hart Energy here in Blackwater Lake.” Sam slid his hands into the pockets of his tux trousers. “And, in spite of that, there was still some question at the last minute about you being here for the wedding.”
Cal felt a little guilty about that, but negotiations regarding a parcel of land for a wind farm were going south and he needed to be involved. “I made it, didn’t I? I should get points for that. I haven’t missed a Hart wedding yet. Except the one ten years ago Linc didn’t tell anyone about.”
“True. And you’re the last Hart bachelor. Here alone, I notice. Evidence that you work too much to have a life and a plus-one.”
There was more truth in that statement than Cal would admit. “Who retired and promoted you to relationship monitor?”
Just then Katherine Hart, their mother, joined the conversation. “Calhoun, this is your brother’s day. Be nice.”
And so, Cal thought, just like in football, it was the retaliatory hit the official penalized, not the inciting one. “He started it.”
“Sam—” The older woman stood between them, linking arms with them. She was ageless and still beautiful, even after raising four children. “What did you do?”
“I simply pointed out that Cal is a workaholic.”
“Not exactly how you phrased it.” Cal didn’t miss the gleam in his brother’s eyes, the one that dared him to tell her the disagreement was all about him not having sex in a long time. That would happen when pigs went airborne.
“You do work too hard,” Katherine said. “I was seriously thinking about staging a family intervention.”
“Isn’t that a bit dramatic, Mother?”
“No.” Her expression said she wasn’t kidding. Not only that, she’d left no room for rebuttal.
That didn’t stop him from trying to make an argument. “It takes time and effort to run a successful company.”
“No one understands that better than me. But some things are more important.”
Not when he was competing with Sam for the best bottom line of all the companies that encompassed Hart Industries. “Look, Mom—”
“No.” There was that rebuttal stopper again. “Working too hard is a flaw of the Hart men. It’s a trait that nearly destroyed my marriage to your father, as you both well know.”
Cal was aware that his parents legally separated when he and Sam were hardly more than babies. Because they were so close in age, she’d always called them twins the hard way. His dad worked all the time and she’d felt isolated and alone. Katherine’s one-night stand during the separation had resulted in her getting pregnant and his brother Lincoln was born. Against the odds, Katherine and Hastings Hart had reconciled and their union became even stronger.
“I’m not married,” Cal reminded her.
“You were once, but you never will be again if you don’t make changes in your life.”
Cal had left himself wide-open for that one. “Look, I just wasn’t very good at marriage.”
“That’s no reason to give up. It’s like vegetables. One taste doesn’t get you a pass from them. Your body needs them and they’re good for you.”
Kind of like sex, Cal thought.
“You’ll wither and die if you don’t get any.” Sam’s remark was a clue that he was thinking along the same lines.
“Seriously,” Katherine said, “there are studies that prove married men live longer. I want you around for a very long time, not working yourself into an early grave.”
“Come on, Mom. You’re exaggerating.” When her eyes flashed with maternal intensity, he knew that was the wrong thing to say.
“When was the last time you took a vacation?” she demanded.
He thought for a moment and drew a blank. “I’d have to check my calendar. Can I get back to you on that?”
“I already checked with Shanna and she told me you haven’t taken time off since she’s been with the company, so that’s at least four years.”
“You went over my head to my assistant about this?”
“You have a problem with that?” There was a warning expression in his mother’s eyes.
“No. Just wondering.” He couldn’t believe she’d done research on him. “She’s probably right. Excellent at her job.”
“She’s so good you never give her time off, either. She’s tired.”
“I have an idea,” Sam said. “Give her a vacation and you take one, too.”
“I don’t need a break—”
“Recharging your batteries would be good for you,” his mother interrupted. “Your father and I recently took a trip to an all-inclusive island. There were so many activities available, or you could just veg out on the beach, sit in a lounge chair by the pool.”
“Doing nothing would drive me nuts.” Cal could feel his stubborn streak kicking in. That was never good.
“You can do as much or as little as you want,” she insisted.
“I’ll check it out.” Again, when pigs took flight. Hopefully that response would get her off his back.
But Katherine’s eyes narrowed as if she was onto him. “You think I don’t know you just threw me a bone and have no intention of doing any research on a vacation?”
“Mom, can we talk about this later? Sam just got married and I’m sure he has stuff to do at this shindig.”
“He’s right. Faith just threw her bouquet, so it’s almost time for me to do the garter thing.” Sam’s eyes took on a calculating look. “But I think I know how to resolve Cal’s vacation issue right now.”
“I bet you don’t,” Cal said.
“It’s like you’re channeling me.” His brother looked way too self-satisfied. “I think you should take a week off for every year of avoided vacation. So, I’ll bet you that you can’t go to that island and stay for a month.”
“Of course I can. If I wanted to.”
“Ah,” Sam said. “Wiggle room. I knew you couldn’t do it.”
The tone and the words hit a nerve and started Cal’s competitive juices flowing. “Why would I want to?”
“For the Duchess.” There was a dare in his brother’s voice.
“But you love that car,” Cal protested.
“I do. But you’re not going to stay on the island for a month, so there’s no chance I’ll lose the car.”
It was like they were kids again, and Cal felt that honor challenge clear to his core. A double dog dare if he’d ever heard one. Plus, he really did love that car. It was a Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow and something that belonged to his grandfather, which made it priceless.
He stuck out his hand. “You’re on.”
“Excellent,” Sam said, shaking on the terms of the wager. “Mom, you’re a witness.”
“I am.” She pointed to the activity on the other side of the room. “Look, all the single men are gathering. Sam, I think you’re being paged. And, Cal, go catch the garter.”
“No way.”
“I’ve been looking forward to this.” Sam rubbed his hands together. “I’ll throw it right to you.”
“Don’t do me any favors.”
A few minutes later Sam removed the garter from his bride’s leg and threw it over his shoulder into the crowd of single guys. Unfortunately, Cal caught the blasted thing. The satin-and-lace symbol of the next guy to walk down ball-and-chain lane sailed just close enough that he couldn’t resist the challenge of snagging it. Damn his competitive streak. And he was pretty sure Sam had done it on purpose, to prove relaxing was too big a challenge for Cal, that he was going to lose the bet.
His brother was wrong, Cal thought.
The problem was going to be finding ways to fill his time for a month on an island. Or die trying. Really, what could go wrong?
* * *
Calhoun Hart broke his leg on the first day of vacation, so now he was going to work on the island. Justine Walker believed she’d drawn the short straw in agreeing to fill in for his vacationing secretary. But that was before she stepped off the plane and saw sun, sand, sea. And palm trees swaying in the gentle trade winds. That’s when it hit her. Working in a tropical paradise wasn’t like being the one who had to stay behind to manually blow a nuclear device and prevent an asteroid from wiping out Earth.
Technically she hadn’t drawn the short straw anyway. No one else in the clerical pool at Hart Energy wanted to work with Cal Hart. In desperation, Human Resources made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. Putting up with the infamous workaholic who signed her paycheck meant she was that much closer to being her own boss.
Pulling a carry-on bag behind her, she limped up the flower-and shrub-lined path to Mr. Hart’s private villa at the resort. Her leg was as good as it would ever be, but long stretches of sitting still made it ache. In spite of the discomfort, she was grateful the doctors had saved it after the accident. She’d come a long way from wishing she’d died, too.
In front of the impressive double-door entry, she stopped and took several deep, cleansing breaths, counting each one to slow down her racing pulse and heart rate. It took more effort than usual, but she didn’t usually go to work in a villa with a three-hundred-sixty-degree view of the ocean. The crystal clear varying shades of turquoise water defied words. It was one of those sights one simply had to see. The stunning beauty almost made her forget about the discomfort in her leg.
She inhaled one last deep breath, counted, slowly released it, then knocked on the door. While there was no expectation of a speedy response since her boss was an invalid, the wait dragged on long enough that she debated going for help. But finally it opened and the man standing there, propped up on crutches, looked the picture of masculinity, in spite of the white, no-nonsense cast on his lower left leg. For the second time since his private plane had landed, she found herself without words. He was very sexy and that was more than a little distracting.
She’d heard about him, none of it flattering, but had only actually seen him from a distance at work. He was very good-looking with his light brown hair and deeply intense blue eyes. The white cotton shirt he wore framed his shoulders and probably made them look broader. Only a hands-on examination would confirm, but the odds of that happening were lower than zero.
“Good. You’re finally here.” He backed up awkwardly and negotiated a turn. “Would you mind getting the door...um—”
She realized he was hesitating because he either couldn’t remember or didn’t know her name. “Justine Walker. And I don’t mind at all, Mr. Hart.”
“Cal.”
“Excuse me?”
“My name is Cal. Short for Calhoun, and it will save time if you use it.”
“Of course.”
She shut the door and limped after him into a spacious living area. The plush white sofas had throw pillows in tropical ocean shades, and a light-colored wood floor seemed to stretch on forever to the sand and sea beyond, merging inside and outside. Overhead was a high-pitched wooden ceiling and several fans with blades that resembled palm fronds circulated the refreshing breeze coming through the open French doors. Beneath her low-heeled pumps was the thickest, cushiest area rug she’d ever felt.
“Something wrong?”
Justine dragged her gaze from the floor and looked up at her boss. She might as well be honest. “I think I’m on luxury overload.”
“Oh?” He looked amused.
“I’ve never been on a private plane before or anyplace like this.” She glanced around, not bothering to pretend she wasn’t in awe. “And a villa with that ocean view—the sand and palm trees. It’s amazing.”
With a sigh he lowered himself to the sofa that looked big enough to hold an extended family reunion and elevated his injured leg. “Feel free to look around. Your room is over there.” He lifted one of his crutches and used it to point to a recessed doorway on the other side of the enormous area. “The valet has instructions to bring the rest of your luggage, and he’ll use the patio door so you won’t see him.”
The Human Resources director at Hart Energy had explained the accommodations—the fact that this villa was over five thousand square feet and contained two very large, very private suites. Mr. Hart’s injury limited his mobility and he preferred his assistant nearby to facilitate the work environment.
The subtext was that she didn’t need to worry about any hanky-panky. After meeting him that was oddly disappointing. But the compensation for this assignment was so generous, she would have slept on a lounge chair under a tree if he wanted. Before she could check out her room, there was a knock at the door.
“That should be room service,” Cal said. “Would you mind letting them in?”
“Of course.” She walked to the door and felt Cal watching her. When she was tired, like she was now, the limp was more pronounced, but she tried very hard to minimize it. Because she didn’t want to show any weakness in front of this man.
She opened the door to several hotel employees who waited with wheeled carts containing covered dishes. Stepping back, she let them move past her and set everything up on the coffee table, where it was easily accessible to Cal. He signed for it and the servers discreetly left.
“Can I get a plate for you?” she asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
She lifted silver domes from the serving dishes and saw there were multiple entrées to choose from, as well as potatoes, rice, pasta, green salad and fruit. And a sampling of chocolate desserts made her mouth water.
She filled a plate and brought it to him, then arranged eating utensils where he could reach them. “You ordered a lot of food.”
“I didn’t know what you like and thought you might be hungry.”
“I am.” How considerate was that? He worked hard and expected his employees to match his pace, but no one had ever said he didn’t treat the people around him well. Still, she’d pictured a heartless beast, and this unexpected thoughtfulness was a nice surprise. After fixing herself a plate, she sat on the plush chair to his right. “How did you break your leg?”
“Skydiving.” He met her gaze. “What happened to yours?”
“You noticed the limp.” She’d heard about his attention to detail and the demand for it from anyone he worked with. So he wouldn’t miss much. Still, she hadn’t anticipated his blunt question. She should have. There was no reason not to tell him, but he didn’t need to know she’d lost more than her runway-model strut. “Car accident.”
“Ah.”
She took a bite of fish and nearly groaned out loud, it was so good. They ate in silence for several moments, long enough that the need to fill it became necessary. “So, skydiving. You’re one of those sanity-challenged, adrenaline junkie thrill seekers who jump out of perfectly good airplanes on purpose.”
“Yes.”
Thank goodness she wasn’t drinking anything when he smiled, because it rocked her like a 9.5 earthquake. He was a handsome man even with a serious expression on his face. But the smile made a girl want to raise her hand and shout, Over here. Fortunately she didn’t choke, spit or utter a sound to embarrass herself, but it took several moments to gain solid mental footing again.
“Apparently the parachute opened,” she observed. “Or the damage would have been much worse.”
“I landed wrong.” He shrugged. “It was a clean break and the doctor assured me it will heal quickly.”
“Good. Are you in pain now?”
“It’s been several days, so not much.”
Justine knew a thing or two about pain, but didn’t push him. Everyone handled it in their own way, and she was curious about something else. This assignment was supposed to last for a month so it begged the question, “Did you have any other activities planned besides skydiving?”
“Scuba diving. Parasailing. Rock climbing. For starters,” he said.
“Bummer. So why not just cancel the vacay? You’ve obviously changed your plans and are going to work. Wouldn’t it be easier to go home and schedule more time here when you’re healed?”
Something that looked a lot like stubborn determination hardened his eyes and tightened his jaw. “The view is a lot better here.”
“I can’t argue with that.” She looked through the patio doors to the luxurious, private, crystal clear pool, the pristine white sand and the ocean that stretched as far as the eye could see. “It’s something special. But so is the scenery at home. The lake and mountains take my breath away.”
He stared at her for several moments, then seemed to realize he was doing it. “So, you’re part of the advance team from Dallas setting up the new office in Blackwater Lake.”
“Yes.”
She’d found the charming, rapidly growing town a good place to open her business. She’d been saving and moved to Montana with the idea of working there until she had enough start-up money. It never occurred to her that an opportunity like this would come along to speed up her timetable. Now that she thought about it, the offer had escalated because Cal Hart had a reputation for being difficult and demanding, and no one else who was clerically qualified had wanted it. So far he had not lived up to his advance billing.
Justine finished eating and set her plate on the table. “That was delicious. Thanks.”
“Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked.
“No.” She toyed with the cloth napkin still in her lap. “It was nice of you to think of this. Honestly, I wasn’t expecting it.”
“What were you expecting?” He didn’t sound defensive, just curious.
“Everyone said you’re a difficult boss who works twelve-to fourteen-hour days and requires your employees to do the same.”
“You’ve been talking to Shanna.”
“She’s a friend. And having a lovely cruise, by the way.” At his quizzical look she added, “Ships have internet. She emails. There was even one warning me not to take this job with you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“So why did you?” he asked.
“Do you have any idea what you’re paying me?”
“A lot, apparently.” He shrugged. “I can afford it.”
She had no doubt about that. The question was, could she? He had her for a month. It hadn’t occurred to her that four weeks in paradise with a man who wasn’t a bastard and looked like a movie star could be a very long time.
Chapter Two (#ucaf959fd-9ebe-5587-8ef0-b2f81d1e6665)
“So do you want the good news first? Or the bad?” Justine asked.
It was late afternoon on their first full day of working together, and Cal was stretched out on the corner group with his broken leg propped on a pillow. He glanced up from his laptop, focusing on his new assistant, who was sitting at the desk. Her red hair was parted on the side and pulled back into a messy side bun. She was wearing black, square-framed glasses that made her look smart and sexy, a one-two punch that had his gut tightening, not for the first time.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “What was the question?”
“I’ve got good news and bad. Are you a get-the-bad-over-with-first kind of guy? Or a put-it-off-as-long-as-possible sort of person?”
“There’s something to be said for both. So...surprise me.” He’d been surprised by many things since she arrived yesterday. What was one more?
“I just received a preliminary environmental report on the wind farm property in upstate New York, and so far there’s no negative impact on the animals, fish or ecosystem in the area affected by the project.”
“Just a guess, but I’d say that’s the good news.”
“It is.”
“And the bad?”
“The people aren’t as open-minded as the wildlife. They’re circulating a petition to squash the project.” She slipped off her glasses. “The land is flat and the turbines are tall, visible for miles.”
“They have to be tall. The higher they are, the more wind is harnessed.” Even he heard the frustration in his voice.
“Protests are in the beginning stages. There may be some things you can do to sway public opinion and get everyone on board with this. Or at least the majority.” She shrugged. “Can’t please all the people all the time.”
What could I do to please her?
Cal couldn’t believe he’d just thought that. He was uncomfortable and it had nothing to do with his broken leg. Working with Justine was disconcerting. She was smart, efficient and seemed to know what he needed before he did. It had gone really well if you didn’t count the part where he wanted to turn the lie about his active sex life into the truth. With her.
Redheads weren’t even his type, but that didn’t seem to make a difference. Maybe it was her eyes—brown with flecks of gold and green. They were different. Exotic. Mesmerizing and calm at the same time.
Beside him on the coffee table, papers were scattered around along with file folders and his cell phone. A half-empty coffee mug was right in the middle of the chaos, like a circus ringmaster. Her desk, on the other hand, was tidy to the point of making his teeth hurt. And it was time to get his head back in the game. There was a lot to accomplish, and one of her responsibilities was to clean up after him. Normally he wasn’t quite this disorganized, but his mobility was limited with the cast on his leg. Work was why she was here in the first place.
“I’ll talk to public relations about the protests and strategies to win over the people,” he said. “Right now, I need you to pull together some alternative energy research. Statistics on the output of wind turbines at different heights. And reports on solar. There’s a parcel of land I’m looking at in Nevada, and that’s the place to go for sun.”
Instead of going along with the directive, his assistant closed her laptop and calmly met his gaze. “I’m happy to take care of that for you in the morning.”
Did he hear her right? Maybe the hard landing from his skydiving misadventure had broken more than his leg. “I’d like you to start compiling it now.”
“If I hadn’t already put in a full day—”
“We stopped for lunch.”
“Yes, and it was incredibly delicious.” Her look was sympathetic. “But I’m officially off the clock now.”
Cal needed to get up and move. The urge to prowl was strong in him, but the plaster on his leg made it problematic, along with reducing the power of the pace as a means to show he was the boss and in charge. That was pompous, but having only one good leg threw him off his game.
He grabbed the crutches and hauled himself to a standing position, then hobbled over to the desk and rested his hip on the corner, letting it take his weight. This wasn’t as effective as looming, but he could still stare her down.
“The fact is,” he said evenly, “I’m always on the clock. There are pros and cons to being the president of a successful company and that’s one of the downsides.”
“So, you’re saying that by extension your assistant needs to always be available?”
“Exactly. I knew you were smart.” And not just another pretty face. But he kept that part to himself.
“Let me ask you this.” She folded her hands and rested them on the unnaturally tidy desktop as she met his gaze. “Is it a matter of life and death for you to have that information this evening?”
“Hart Energy didn’t get to be number one by not being prepared.”
“That’s not what I asked. It was a yes-or-no question.”
Cal was hoping she hadn’t noticed his evasive answer. Buying time, he studied her and couldn’t detect a single sign that she was unnerved. Not a flicker of an eyelash, twitch of her mouth or jump in her pulse. This reaction was as unusual as the shade of her eyes shifting from brown, to gold, to green.
It was a yes-or-no question, but that was irrelevant since he ran the show. “It should be enough that I want what I want when I want it.”
“First of all, that statement comes very close to temper tantrum territory.” The corners of her mouth curved up.
The movement distracted him, drawing his attention to the delicate sensuality of her lips. It was several moments before he realized that she’d called him on his crap.
With an effort he pulled his thoughts together and kept his voice even when he asked, “And second of all?”
“Hmm?” She blinked.
Maybe he wasn’t the only one distracted. “You said ‘first of all.’ That implies there’s a second thing that you wanted to say.”
“Right.” She nodded. “If the reason you’re asking me to work late comes under the heading of life and death, I’m happy to be flexible and accommodate the situation. Otherwise it’s overtime and not part of my contract for this assignment.”
“You have a special contract?”
“Yes. One that has very specific limitations on overtime. It was Shanna’s suggestion after she advised me not to take the job. I could show you the agreement if you’d like.”
Another yes-or-no thing that he was going to sidestep. “So, it’s not enough that there’s more work to do?”
“There always is,” she said serenely.
“I guess it’s pointless to say that since you work for me you’re finished when I am?”
“You’re certainly free to continue working, but I’m off the clock. In the morning I will be at my desk and ready to give my all for Hart Energy. But to be at my best, I need to recharge my batteries.”
Cal had a feeling she was laughing at him, and that tweaked him back into temper tantrum territory. Or maybe it was her calm, unruffled demeanor that made him want to ruffle her. Either way, something had him determined to get in the last word and maintain control.
“I would appreciate it if you would stay and complete the tasks that I’ve requested.”
She stood and met his gaze, drawing in a deep breath and holding it for several moments. “I’m happy to work on it bright and early tomorrow morning. If that’s not acceptable to you, feel free to fire me.”
This was not a good time to find out the problem with temper tantrum territory was that it bordered on cutting-off-your-nose-to-spite-your-face land.
“Don’t think I—”
She held up her hand. “Before finishing that sentence, you should know that no one else who is qualified for the position as your assistant is willing to come here and work one-on-one with you.”
He would deny it if anyone claimed her words stunned him, but that was the truth. Did he really have a reputation for being a difficult boss? A workaholic? Apparently his family thought so or he wouldn’t be in this predicament right now. Were they right?
Before he could come up with a response to the line she’d drawn in the sand, she said good-night and coolly turned away from him, heading for her suite. Staring at her trim back and shapely butt, he was again speechless, but for a different reason. It could have something to do with nearly swallowing his tongue. The woman had a body that would make a man follow her anywhere. Any man but him.
He couldn’t decide whether to be angry at her audacity in challenging him, or in awe of her nerve and composure while doing it. She’d surprised him again and not in a good way. And another thing. Why had he pushed back so hard for her to stay tonight? She was right about the fact that the work could wait until tomorrow.
He refused to believe that it had anything to do with keeping her there so he wouldn’t be alone. Lonely. He was either tired or just being stupid and didn’t know which. Or maybe it was both. That wasn’t a riddle that had to be solved right now and he resolved to focus on what he could handle.
He absolutely could get someone to replace her.
* * *
The next morning, Justine got ready for work. Cal hadn’t fired her, although that was a technicality since she walked away before he could say much of anything. It was certainly possible that he’d fumed all night and was going to can her this morning—face-to-face. But she hoped not. She wanted to open her own yoga studio, and the dream was so close she could practically touch it.
She’d certainly thought it over all night and had no regrets about putting her foot down to keep him from walking all over her. If anyone knew how short life could be, it was her, and no way she was going to burn the candle at both ends for a paycheck. If he sent her packing she’d simply find another way to put together the rest of the money she needed.
And he was supposed to be on vacation, for Pete’s sake!
She looked at herself in the suite’s freestanding, full-length mirror. Her long hair fell past her shoulders, shiny and straight. For work she normally put it up for convenience, but she might not be working much longer. If a small part of her was using every female asset in her arsenal to get on the good side of her boss, well, so be it. That was, of course, presupposing Calhoun Hart even had a good side.
Her silky blouse was off-white, sleeveless and tucked into linen slacks that were long enough to graze the floor even in heels. No chance of showing any bare leg. Plus lightweight enough for this tropical island climate. And professional.
“I am woman. Hear me roar,” she said to her reflection. “Meow.”
With nerves jumping in her stomach, she exited her room and walked, head held high, as confidently as possible into the villa’s main living area. It was early, but Cal was already up. In his khaki shorts and flowered shirt he looked like a tourist. The white cast on his left leg had her heart twisting with sympathy, proof it had not stayed strong and in solidarity with last night’s rebellion.
“Good morning,” he said. “I ordered breakfast.”
Her gaze drifted to the covered dishes on the coffee table. There was an impressive number of them. “I should get to work.”
“You should eat something first. It’s the most important meal of the day.” He poured coffee from an insulated pitcher into a second mug in front of him. “It’s breakfast. Break fast. Fuel your body to maximize performance.”
It seemed as if he was pretending their difference of opinion had never happened, and that was just fine with her.
“I’d love some coffee. Thanks.” She sat in the club chair to his right.
“Cream? Sugar?” He met her gaze.
“No and no. Black is great.” She took the cup and saucer he held out.
“I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat and ordered a little of everything.”
“That’s getting to be a habit with you.” She was teasing. Sort of.
But this showing his nice side was turning into a disconcerting pattern. She’d prepared herself to deal with the driven workaholic from last night, not this softie who was hard-selling a well-balanced, nutritious meal. This guy made her feel feelings she wasn’t at all comfortable with.
“As habits go,” she said, “it’s not a bad one.”
“Full disclosure. It’s not entirely selfless, either.” He grinned suddenly. “A well-fed employee is a productive one.”
A smiling Cal looked younger, more carefree and less tense. And so handsome she could only stare at him. It was several moments before his words registered and the message was received. Employee. As in he was not going to terminate her. The weight of uncertainty lifted and she smiled back.
“I will be so productive that you won’t be able to keep up with me.”
“Is that a challenge, Miss Walker?” There was a gleam in his eyes now, a spark of competition.
“Absolutely.”
“Then you’re on. Eat up.”
Since he’d ordered a little of everything, she sampled it all. Omelet, eggs Benedict, oatmeal and all the trimmings. But the fruit...mango, papaya and pineapple—yum. They ate in silence.
“So you like Blackwater Lake?” Cal finished the last bite of food and set his empty plate on the coffee table.
“Very much. It’s beautiful.” She met his gaze. “But I already mentioned that. There’s a serenity about it. That sounds mystical and spiritual and I don’t mean to be woo-woo weird, but peacefulness is in the air.”
“That’s because you don’t have family there,” he said drily.
“I wish I did. My parents, brothers and sister all live in Texas. They were not happy when I broke the news about the company headquarters moving.”
“Would it help if I apologized to them and did a PowerPoint presentation to lay out my reasons for relocating?”
“So it wasn’t about being closer to your brothers and sister?”
“My parents are still in Dallas, too. So it wasn’t an easy decision.” Absently he kneaded his left knee, as if the muscles hurt. “There’s still a large dependence on fossil fuels, but renewable energy is the future. It’s my gut feeling that overseeing it from Blackwater Lake is the best way to go.”
She wouldn’t be with Hart Energy much longer and his commitment to its future made her a little sad about that. But that was his dream and she had one of her own.
“I can’t eat another bite.” She set her not quite empty plate on the table beside his. “And it’s time for me to get to work.”
“I left a list of what I need on your desk.” His mouth twitched, the only sign that he was thinking about their disagreement.
She stood and nodded. “I’ll get right on it.”
Moving away from the power of her boss’s aura was a relief, and Justine buried herself in the familiarity of work. Reports, spreadsheets, phone calls and research meant she didn’t have to think about the way a smile transformed his face, or how his teasing made her laugh. In the last few years laughter had been a stranger in her world. Changing that started with being her own boss, not bonding with her current one.
Four hours later, Justine was paying a price for burying herself in work. Her whole body was stiff and every muscle ached. Last night’s mutiny hadn’t been only about principle. Working long hours taxed her physically, and her leg needed regular stretching out to keep it from painful cramping.
She straightened in her chair and carefully stood, but couldn’t suppress a wince of discomfort.
“Are you in pain?” Cal’s voice was sharp, but that didn’t hide a note of concern.
She’d thought he was engrossed in work and it surprised her that he’d noticed. That didn’t mean she was comfortable with the fact that he had.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Don’t do that.” He looked and sounded even more annoyed, if possible. “You don’t have to be superwoman.”
To atone for pushing back against a fourteen-hour day. He didn’t say the words, but they still hovered in the air.
“I’m not pretending to be anything. I really am fine. It’s just that if I sit for long periods of time, my leg gets stiff and a little uncomfortable.”
“I assumed you were kidding about competing work output.”
“Yeah, but I also said I work hard while on the clock,” she said.
“I appreciate the effort, but you should have said something.” Now he sounded ticked off at himself.
“I just did. A fifteen-minute break to stretch it out will do the trick. In physical therapy after the accident, I learned techniques to take care of it. I’ll be back shortly—more alert and productive than ever. And most important, it’s relaxing. I’m used to this happening and know exactly what to do.” She half turned, intending to disappear into her room to do what she needed to in order to loosen up the muscles.
“Don’t leave on my account,” he said. “In fact, I might need some of those techniques myself after this cast comes off.”
Justine knew better than most that he had a point about life after his broken bone healed. Learning yoga during her physical rehabilitation literally got her back on her feet. The experience came really close to saving her life and the lesson was so profound, it changed her life. Or rather, her career goals. The dream to open her own yoga studio was conceived through her intense need to pay it forward and help others the way she’d been helped. How could she say no to this injured man?
“Okay,” she finally said. “Just remember you asked for it.”
She moved to a large area not far from the open French doors leading to the patio. She breathed deeply of the humid, tropical air, then released it. Turning, she saw that Cal was watching her closely, and her heart jumped. It was prudent to pretend that hadn’t happened.
She kicked off her shoes and stood barefoot, facing him. “Normally for a session I wear stretchy yoga pants, so I’ll have to wing it in this outfit.”
“Do you want to change?”
“I only have a fifteen-minute break,” she said to the man who’d gone to battle for more work hours. “It won’t be a problem.”
“Okay.”
“I’m going to show you the tree pose.”
“A tree doesn’t immediately make one think of stretching,” he mused. “Sounds a little like an oxymoron to me.”
“Movements don’t have to be sweeping and dramatic to make a big difference,” she pointed out. “Just stand straight, shifting your weight to your legs and feet. Then bring your right foot up to your left inner thigh. In the beginning it can be challenging to find balance so it’s all right to place your foot on the calf instead.”
“And then?”
“Hold the pose and breathe.”
“And this does what, exactly?”
“Strengthens your legs and back. Standing straight improves posture and works out the kinks from sitting at a desk for long periods of time.”
“That sounded remarkably like a dig. Is it supposed to make me feel guilty?”
“Not unless it’s working.” She switched legs and grinned at him.
“Does that tree pose also turn a person sassy and sarcastic?”
“Just a happy side effect,” she said serenely.
“Hmm. And you were preaching it as a relaxation technique.”
“Indulging sass and sarcasm can be very relaxing.” She finished the pose and had both feet on the floor. “Next we have the triangle pose.”
“Sounds intriguing.”
She ignored that and continued her running commentary. “This opens your chest and improves balance. Widen your stance and turn your right foot to the side, keeping your heel in line with the center of the left foot. Reach one arm out to the side, bend and touch the other to your extended foot. Again, hold and breathe. Repeat on the other side.”
“And is that one relaxing?” There was a slight edge to his voice.
“Are you asking whether or not I feel a zinger coming on?”
“Not really.” He shrugged. “I sort of figured that was a given. I’m actually getting used to it.”
“Bracing yourself is not a relaxed way to be. For your own well-being, pay attention.”
“Right.”
“You’re a skeptic now, but let’s see how you feel when that cast comes off and one calf is half the size of the other because the muscles are atrophied from not being used.”
“Have you got a move for that?”
“As a matter of fact...warrior one.”
“Battle?” One of his eyebrows rose. “Seriously? I am actually more than a little skeptical of that being relaxing. Or helpful.”
“Watch and learn, little grasshopper.” She gave him a smirk. “This is for power and strength in the body. Stand straight, then move your left leg backward. Bend your right knee and turn your left foot slightly inward. Then raise your arms above you, stretching as high as you can, feeling that stretch into your fingertips. Hold and breathe. Again, repeat on the other side.”
Justine lost herself in the pose, concentrating on her breathing and stretching. When she was finished, she felt refreshed and ready to resume working. The technique never failed to relax her. But one look at Cal told her the yoga lesson had the opposite effect on him.
His mouth was pulled tight and there was tension in the line of his jaw. But the expression in his eyes threw her completely off balance. Since her husband had died in the car accident, no man had looked at her the way Cal was now. As if he wanted her more than his next breath.
Chapter Three (#ucaf959fd-9ebe-5587-8ef0-b2f81d1e6665)
There wasn’t enough yoga in the whole world to make Cal relax after watching Justine stretch like that. Reaching up lengthened the lines of her body, showed off the toned muscles and put her spectacular curves on mouth-watering display. The lady had a limp and, in spite of that, she was lithe, limber and luscious. And he felt as if his whole body hurt from trying to pretend he hadn’t noticed any of that.
The worst part was that he had no one to blame but himself. She’d warned him. He did ask for it. “Don’t leave on my account,” he muttered under his breath, thoroughly disgusted with himself. “ I might need some of those techniques myself after this cast comes off.”
The thoughts he’d been having ever since were inappropriate. He might be a workaholic, but he wasn’t a pig.
Thank goodness she was done for the day. He didn’t push the overtime issue again. No one could say he wasn’t capable of learning. She’d been dismissed at quitting time but he continued to work. At least, he was trying. But after starting to read a technical report for the fourth time, he was about to throw in the towel. His mind kept wandering to the vision of that silky blouse outlining her breasts. The only thing sexier would be seeing her naked.
“Damn it.” He rubbed his thigh and mentally smacked himself for more inappropriate thoughts.
What was it about her that was turning him into a hormone-overdosed teenager? Whether she was in the room with him or not, the place just felt different.
He glanced out the open French doors and saw her sitting by the pool in a patio chair, her back to him. Come to think of it, she’d been out there for a while. And as far as he could tell, she hadn’t moved.
“None of my business. She’s off the clock.” He started at the beginning of the report. Again.
Almost immediately his attention wandered back outside to Justine’s trim, straight back. She’d changed from work clothes into cotton pants and a tank top for her foray into doing absolutely nothing. Although he recognized the fact that it was a beautiful setting—the crystal clear pool, wicker furniture with brightly colored cushions and the pristine white sand in front of the sea. The sun was setting and turning the underside of the wispy clouds orange, gold and purple. But she continued to do absolutely nothing, and that had him acutely curious.
He grabbed the crutches resting beside him and pulled himself up, then propped them beneath his arms and hobbled outside. There was an empty chair beside her and he lowered himself into it.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Not working.” She looked at him. “And neither are you, apparently.”
“I’m taking a break.” Ha. “So, seriously, what are you doing?”
“I’m looking at the sand, the ocean and that spectacular sunset.”
“I don’t mean this in a bad way—”
“Have you ever noticed that when someone says that, whatever comes next will not be positive reinforcement? It will be disapproving.”
Guilty, he thought, then barreled ahead anyway. “You’ve been looking at the view for a really long time.”
“It’s worth spending a lot of time on taking it all in.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s stunning. The beauty of nature fills up my soul.”
“Considering the length of your examination, can one assume your soul was that empty?”
The corners of her mouth curved up. “I’m filling the reserve tank. For tomorrow. You should try it.”
“So you think my soul is a quart low?”
“Judging by the defensiveness of your tone, I’d say that’s a very good possibility.”
“Are you always this mystical?” he asked.
“Are you always this nosy?” she countered.
“Maybe.”
“That’s a lot of negative energy. Why don’t you take in that magnificent view and think peaceful, healing thoughts?”
“What if I don’t—”
“Just give it a try,” she suggested.
“Okay.” He set the crutches on the cement patio beside him and rested his injured leg on the chair’s matching ottoman.
There was a refreshing breeze blowing off the ocean that gently rustled the nearby palm trees. The sun was an orange-yellow ball that seemed to be disappearing into the sea, and twilight crept closer, kept at bay by the villa’s outside lights. Cal let out a sigh as some of the tension left him. It really was a pretty place. But...
“Aren’t you getting bored?” he asked.
“No.”
“How can you just sit there?” He studied her delicate profile and the beautiful fiery-colored hair blowing off her face. “I know you said you’re filling up your soul, but how can you tell when it’s sufficiently topped off?”
She met his gaze and there was amusement in hers. “It takes longer when there are interruptions.”
“Do you set a timer?” he asked, warming to his cross-examination.
She ignored the question and stated the obvious. “You’re restless.”
“Because I’m not doing anything.”
“Letting your body rest and rejuvenate is actually doing something.”
“Doesn’t feel that way,” he grumbled.
“I have an idea. Why don’t you try counting your breaths? That will give you something to focus on.”
Besides her? When he could smell the scent of her skin in spite of the strong fragrance of tropical flowers and the sea all around? “Why would I want to focus on counting my breaths?”
“Inhale deeply,” she instructed without answering. “And let it out slowly. Then concentrate on the rising and falling of your chest. Up and down is one breath. Give it a try.”
“This is silly.”
“There you go,” she said. “I knew you would have an open mind.”
“You’re trying to spirit-shame me.”
“Is it working?” There was laughter in her voice.
“Yeah, kind of.”
“Good. Go with it.”
“Okay.” He did as instructed and drew in a deep breath, then released it and noted the rise and fall of his chest. “One... Two... Three...”
“Silent counting would be better,” she advised.
“Am I distracting you?”
“Yes.”
Right back at you, he thought. She was the personification of distraction. If being a diversion was part of an employee review, she would get very high marks. Now that he thought about it, she was pretty good at her job, too. She worked very hard and was incredibly efficient. His vacationing assistant should be worried about the competition.
That was a bluff. Shanna was excellent at what she did, and the best part was that when she was in the office, he never once thought about her any way but appropriately. Why was that? She was attractive, single, smart and funny. What combination of attributes made Justine such a challenge to his concentration?
The only thing he could come up with was that karma had a lousy sense of humor.
“You’ve been very quiet.” Justine finally broke the silence.
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“It’s what you needed,” she said mysteriously.
“That’s news to me. And it makes you sound like a Tibetan monk,” he added.
“It takes a while to get the hang of the technique in order to free your mind. But you did very well with the breathing.”
He laughed. “Breathing is easy. If you can’t do that, you’ve got bigger problems than filling up your soul.”
“I’ll make a convert of you yet. And I’ve got a month to do it.” Justine got up and used the outside entrance to go into her suite.
Cal watched her go and admired the sexy movement of her hips in spite of the slight limp. His pulse jumped and his mouth went dry. There was breathing and there was heavy breathing. Justine could easily push him in the second direction. He’d teased her and she gave it right back, but he wanted her and it wasn’t a joking matter.
This whole bet started when his brother needled him about his lack of a sex life. Right now the truth Cal had denied was painfully clear.
* * *
The next morning, Justine showered and got ready for work, still a little in awe of her suite and surroundings. She had as much connection to luxury on this scale as she did to a unicorn. Sand and sea were just steps away, for goodness’ sake. The man providing this villa was also just steps away and he presented a whole different scale of excess. She really didn’t know what to make of him.
When she’d lost her husband and little girl in the accident, it was the aloneness that nearly crushed her. Family and friends tried to help, but she had to fight through by herself. And she had, but there were reminders in Texas. When Hart Energy announced the move to Blackwater Lake, Justine looked at it as an opportunity for a change of scene and the chance to start a new life.
Physical therapy and yoga had helped heal her body and she’d resigned herself to being alone. Like last night on the patio. Then Cal had joined her and that had an effect. He’d actually attempted to master the conscious breathing technique. It was endearing, really.
Other than wanting everyone around him to work as hard as he did, the man was a good boss and very considerate. Too much of everything if she was being honest. Too handsome, funny, smart and sexy for any breathing technique she was aware of to relax her when he was nearby.
She studied her appearance in the bathroom mirror. “There’s only one thing to do. Work hard and forget he’s around.”
Except they didn’t work until after breakfast. Cal had given her the option of room service by herself, but having resort staff deliver two separate meals seemed excessive. When she walked into the villa’s main area, breakfast was being set out on the dining room table. He signed for it and the staff wheeled away the cart and left.
Leaning on his crutches, Cal looked everything over, then met her gaze. “Breakfast is served.”
“Good morning. It looks wonderful.”
“It would be even better if you ordered something besides oats and dried grapes.”
“Better known as raisins. And that’s granola to you. I happen to really like it.”
“You might want to consider expanding your culinary horizons.”
“I will,” she promised, then spotted the cup and saucer. There was steam wafting from the top. “Coffee. A girl could get used to this.”
He sat at the head of the table. “Are you telling me that at home no one has coffee waiting for you in the morning?”
Justine took the chair at a right angle to his, where the bowl of granola waited. “Are you really concerned about my coffee consumption habits? Or is that a not-so-subtle query into my personal life?”
He lifted the metal dome covering his scrambled eggs, potatoes and turkey sausage. “The brilliance of my question is that you can interpret it any way you’d like.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?” he asked. “What does that mean?”
“It was either a noncommittal hmm, or a thinly veiled rebuke of your humility.”
“You think I’m not humble?”
“When you call yourself brilliant? Duh.” She couldn’t help laughing at him. “And, just so you know, I’m going to answer what was asked. I take full responsibility for my morning coffee needs. What about you? Does Jeeves grind beans and brew the perfect cup of joe for you?”
“There is no Jeeves,” he said. “I have no staff. A cleaning service comes in once a week to make the condo habitable.”
“Condo.” She poured almond milk into the bowl, then spooned up a bite of granola. After chewing and swallowing, she said, “I’d have figured you for a palatial country home kind of guy.”
“There’s not a lot of choice in Blackwater Lake. The town is growing and housing is struggling to catch up and stay current.”
“I see.” She sipped her coffee, studying him over the rim of her cup. “You’re a complicated man, Cal Hart.”
“Keeps people on their toes.”
“People? Or women?” she asked.
“Women are people, too,” he pointed out.
“And they no doubt fall at your feet. From all that brilliance, whether you’re complicated or not,” she teased. “In fact, I bet most of them prefer not.”
“What do you prefer?” There was a deep, husky quality to his voice that could be called seductive. His eyes widened slightly and he said, “Don’t tell me. Simple hard work is your preference. It gets the job done. Speaking of which...what happened to the contract my lawyer emailed? There are pages missing.”
Apparently he was keeping this purely professional. Hence the pivot back to work. That was for the best, even though she was enjoying their verbal sparring. “I know. It’s on my to-do list. The internet was really slow, and then it just shut down.”
“Damn it.”
“I’m sorry. I checked with resort management late yesterday and they said the system can often be overloaded with data.”
“Then the system should be upgraded. If I was running this place...” He was buttering a slice of rye toast and stopped.
“What?” she prompted.
“Technology would be more efficient, for one thing.” The frustration in his expression grew more intense as the muscle in his jaw jerked.
“Think about this place,” she advised.
“I am. If someone is expecting some important documents or business negotiations requiring paperwork, their expectations will not be met.”
“Unless this location is intended to cater to expectations other than business. Outside are sea and sand, neither of which is particularly user-friendly to computer circuits or memory chips.”
“Of course not. No one’s going to use a fax machine on a paddleboard.”
“Exactly. People actually come here to get away from the rat race. To decompress outside in the water while soaking up the sun. Maybe upping their absorption of vitamin D while they’re at it.”
Cal glanced across the room, where the French doors were open to the patio. Outside, dark clouds had obscured the blue sky and were very swiftly rolling over the ocean toward them. Lightning flickered within the billowing black mass and a bolt zigzagged into the ocean.
“Great, just great,” he mumbled.
Justine thought the approaching storm closely mirrored the expression on her boss’s face. From the looks of it, he could use a refresher course in care and feeding of peace and relaxation. Something had him on edge. She hadn’t missed the way he’d abruptly changed the course of breakfast chitchat from personal back to business. If she hadn’t walked into this room prepared to work hard enough to forget he was there, she might not have noticed. But that was her plan of action and he’d gotten there first.
There was just one flaw in the all-work-to-avoid-play plan. And it was hard to ignore. “Cal, this is paradise. People come here to unplug. Technology doesn’t have to be business-fast. It’s not designed to do that. Probably so someone who’s even tempted to choose work over relaxation will just give in and let it go.”
“Try explaining that to my high-priced attorney who is waiting for me to look over that contract and get back to him. Strike while the iron is hot and all that. And there are other time-sensitive interests that are affected...”
A roaring sound outside made them both look out the doors. The storm had moved in really fast. Huge drops of torrential rain suddenly started bouncing on the patio, and the steady pounding was like the white noise on a sound machine. Then there was a crack of lightning and almost simultaneously the boom of thunder.
“It’s right over us.” The lights flickered and his expression grew even darker. “Paradise isn’t perfect, after all.”
“And yet, what most people wouldn’t give to ride out an electrical storm on a tropical island as opposed to being at home.”
“I’m not most people.”
“Maybe you should give it a try,” she snapped back. “Ordinary isn’t so bad...”
There was another flash and the booming sound of thunder. Then the lights went out.
“Isn’t that just swell?” Cal leaned back in his chair. “People, ordinary or otherwise, can’t do much of anything now. Including work.”
Justine glanced from the downpour outside to the irritated, angry look on Cal’s face. “Wow. Bummer. Since the business machines are out of commission, you might have to sit here and talk to me.”
“This would not happen in Blackwater Lake. And before you remind me the power can go out anywhere, I have a generator there.”
“Then why don’t you go back there?” That was a very good question, one she’d asked the first day and hadn’t received an answer to. Call it the weird vibe of electrical energy in the air, but now she wanted to know. “Now that I think about it, carrying on business at the level you seem obsessed with is a challenge here. So, why didn’t you go home after breaking your leg? What’s going on, Cal? And don’t tell me ‘nothing.’”
Chapter Four (#ucaf959fd-9ebe-5587-8ef0-b2f81d1e6665)
“But nothing is going on.”
Pushing back against a statement of fact had put Cal in this predicament in the first place. You’d think he would know better than to keep doing it. Maybe he wasn’t capable of learning, after all.
“Calhoun Hart, you’re a big, fat fibber.” Justine put her spoon down in her empty bowl. Her eyes narrowed on him and made him want to squirm, but he resisted the urge.
“I have no idea what you mean.” He’d been about to say again that there was nothing going on, but decided it was protesting too much. He had to play this just right. “And ‘big, fat fibber’? Really? Is this junior high?”
“And there it is,” she said triumphantly.
“There what is?” He looked around the shadowy interior of the villa. “And how can you see it without the lights?”
“You’re so glib.”
Her tone didn’t make the comment sound like a compliment, but that didn’t stop him from running with it. “That just might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
“You tap dance pretty well for a man with a broken leg.” The words were spoken in a pleasant voice, but her eyes were still narrowed on him. “Your behavior is classic.”
“How?”
“It tells me that you’re hiding something.” She held up her hand and started ticking things off on her fingers. “You turned the conversation back on me being ‘junior high.’ Then deflected to electricity. And tap-danced to twisting my words into a compliment. You better start talking, mister.”
“Or what?”
“Now who’s acting all junior high?” she accused him.
He grinned. “Then I’m going for it all the way. You’re not the boss of me.” Since when was being on the hot seat so much fun? The only variable was Justine. “There’s nothing you can do to make me talk.”
“Oh, you’re so wrong about that. There are many, many ways I could bring you to your knees.”
“One comes to mind. Using my crutches for a bonfire on the beach.” He met her gaze and shrugged.
“There’s no reason I have to be that cruel. Or literal.” She tapped her lip. “I can think of a much quicker, much simpler way.”
“What could be easier than commandeering a man’s crutches?”
“I could call your mother.” She smiled slowly and with more than a little wickedness.
“That’s low, Justine.”
“A girl has to do what a girl has to do.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I wonder if there’s cell service during an electrical storm.”
For several moments Cal wasn’t sure that the pounding he heard wasn’t in his ears. His sneaky assistant frowned at her phone and he guessed Mother Nature was giving him a reprieve.
“You can’t call my mom. You don’t have her phone number.”
“Want to bet?”
He was beginning to wish he’d never heard the word bet. Little Miss Serene had a fairly ruthless expression on her face. Not unlike the stubborn set of her mouth when she refused to work overtime. She obviously wasn’t going to let this go.
“All right. You win. There is something.”
“Aha.” She pointed at him. “So you are a big, fat fibber.”
“Prevaricator. My vocabulary has improved since middle school.”
“Then start using your words and tell me what you’re up to. Pronto.”
“Would you mind if I sat on the couch and propped my leg up for this?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Is it a long story?”
“There are some things I need to explain. All to give you context,” he said.
“Well, we can’t go to work until the lights come back on anyway...”
“Good.” That would give him time to figure out how to say this so he wouldn’t drain all the reserves her soul had so recently stored up.
Cal pushed to a standing position and balanced on his right foot while he grabbed the crutches and propped them under his arms. He swung himself over to the huge couch and sank into it, then put the injured leg up and stretched it out.
“Do you want me to bring your plate over?” There was a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Keep up your strength for this?”
“Funny girl.” He’d lost his appetite halfway through. “No. I’ve had enough.”
“How about coffee?”
“Yes. Please,” he added.
She ferried cups, saucers and the insulated pot of coffee to the table then poured refills for both of them. Taking hers, she sat in the club chair beside him and looked expectant. “I’m listening.”
“Okay.” He met her gaze and had the absurd thought that she looked pure and innocent even when threatening to tattle to his mother. Hopefully his confession wouldn’t crush that out of her. “I’m a very competitive guy. Could just be my nature or where I fall in the family birth order.”
“You’re the second son.”
Cal remembered his brother telling him to get over second-son syndrome. “So it’s common knowledge.”
“Hart Energy is a subsidiary of Hart Industries. If one works there, it would be hard not to know.”
“I guess. The thing is, that’s just a fact. It doesn’t convey any of the reality of growing up in Sam Hart’s shadow. We were born nine months apart.”
“Twins the hard way,” she interjected.
“That’s what my mom always says. Anyway, I had the distinction of trying to keep up with him, pretty much right out of the womb. I wanted to do everything he did, including getting my parents’ attention.”
“This is where you own up to acting out.”
He shook his head. “I did my best to be bigger, faster, stronger.”
“Going for bionic?” Her mouth twitched, as if she was holding back a laugh.
“No, only first.”
“Ah.” She nodded her understanding. “And that could never be.”
“I could never be firstborn, but in every other way I needed to win. School. Sports. Girls. We competed for the same ones.”
A shrink would have a field day with the fact that he married a woman who had loved another man first. That man happened to be his brother Sam. Cal shouldn’t have been so surprised and hurt when it didn’t work out, but they said love was blind.
“So, your whole life has been like the second-place car rental company that has to try harder?”
“Yes. We run different companies under the Hart Industries umbrella, and I want him to be successful. I just want my bottom line to be better than his.”
“That’s why you work so hard.”
“Exactly.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “But that still doesn’t explain why you didn’t go home after breaking your leg. In fact, it just makes me more curious.”
“I was getting to that part.” As slowly as possible. He was dreading the expression of disappointment that he knew she would wear. The why of that was a mystery he didn’t have time right now to think about. He took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, then set the cup back on the saucer. “It happened at Sam’s wedding.”
“It?”
“Apparently my family was concerned about the fact that I hadn’t taken a vacation in a while.”
“How long is ‘a while’?”
“Four years.”
“Wow. Long time.” Her eyes widened.
“Then Sam made a crack about my social life.”
“He thinks you’re burning the candle at both ends?” she guessed. “He doesn’t like your girlfriend?”
“I don’t have one. And he—”
“Said something about you not having sex, which got your macho all in a twist. Am I right?” she asked.
“Not about the macho part, but the rest is pretty accurate. How did you know?” And why did she say it straight out without any awkwardness? Maybe because the lights were still out and clouds filled the sky. There was no way he could see whether or not she was blushing. It was one step shy of making love in the dark.
“I know because I have brothers. Two.” She shrugged.
“Okay.” He let out a breath. “His comment touched a nerve and then there’s the classic car—”
“Just a hot minute. If this is you digressing to distract me, you should be warned that it won’t work.”
“That never crossed my mind.” Because he’d already tried that and found out she was too smart to be sidetracked by his charming repartee. “It’s important.”
“Okay, then. Carry on.”
“Our grandfather left Sam his classic Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow, even though I always told him I wanted it. He said it was about Sam being the oldest.” Cal sighed. “I really love that car. But apparently Granddad told Sam that I worked too much to care for the Duchess the way she needed to be cared for. To make a long story short—”
“Too late for that,” she teased.
He laughed. “Sam bet me that I couldn’t stay on this island for a month.”
“By ‘stay’ I assume he meant vacation?”
“That’s not what he said,” Cal stressed. “There was no stipulation about not working.”
“But it was implied. That’s the very definition of vacation,” she insisted. “And yet you brought me here to help you work.”
“I can’t deny that.”
There was the dreaded judgment in her eyes and it was definitely going against him. “That violates the very spirit of the wager. You’re supposed to be here taking a break. Resting and relaxing.”
Very little of either was going on, Cal thought. And it had only gotten worse since Justine showed up. “I honestly had planned to do that. I had a schedule of activities every day. A spreadsheet—”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I had something on the calendar for every day. Parasailing, hang gliding, wave riding, rock climbing—”
Her mouth opened, hinting that she was appalled. “Those aren’t gentle, peaceful or restful. They’re life-threatening.”
“I prefer to think of them as aggressive leisure interests.” She was really putting him on the defensive. “The point is that I broke my leg on the first day and had to cancel everything. And I couldn’t leave the island and lose the bet. Sitting around and doing nothing would have pushed me over the edge.” He shrugged. “I figured that I might as well work.”
“Wow. You would rather work when there’s a beautiful, exciting island just outside the door to this luxury villa and it’s yours to explore?”
“Not when you’re on crutches,” he retorted. “Believe me, I checked. No wave riding or parasailing when you’ve got a cast on your leg.”
“You’ve never heard of plan B?”
“Of course I have. But, like I said, I’m complicated. And nothing fun is cast-friendly.”
There was a gleam in her eyes when she said, “I bet there’s a lot of fun things you can do with that plaster on your leg.”
“I challenge you to come up with a list of activities for a guy in my situation. Until then, don’t judge.”
* * *
It wasn’t long before the lights came back on, the clouds disappeared and paradise was restored. Outside. Inside, Justine went to work, and when not busy doing something for her boss, she researched available activities on this tropical island. At lunchtime they took a break and she was ready with a list. After finishing a delicious meal of grilled fish, delicate rice, salad and the yummiest sugar cookies ever, she figured it was as good a time as any to bring it up.
She was sitting in the club chair beside the cushy sofa where Cal was stretched out. “I’m ready for your challenge,” she said.
“Which one would that be?”
“I think asking the question is a stall technique, but we’ll play this your way.” She opened a file folder containing information she’d printed out. “There are many things to do on this island. Even for a man with limited mobility.”
“Don’t even mention the W-word.”
She was drawing a blank. “I’m sorry. The what now?”
“Wheelchair.”
“Ah.” She nodded her understanding. “You’re thinking limitations. My focus is broader. That’s the difference between us.”
“No. The difference is that my leg is broken. Yours are just fine.” He stopped and that declaration settled in the air between them. “I’m sorry. By ‘fine’ I meant you’re not on crutches.”
“I know what you meant.”
Her leg was fine if you were just talking mobility. It had taken surgeries, time and hard work to regain function, albeit with a slight limp, but the extensive scars would always be a visual reminder of what she’d lost.
“Moving on, then. No wheelchair. Got it.” She scanned her paperwork. “You were right.”
“I’m surprised to hear you admit that.” But he looked puzzled. “What exactly is it that I’m right about?”
“Activities at an island resort heavily favor guests who are not in a cast.”
“Like I said, there’s nothing for me to do and I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. Hence the work. Given my circumstances, that’s not a violation of the spirit of the wager with my brother. It comes under the heading of Circumstances Beyond My Control.”
“Not completely true,” she told him. “I said it favors noninjured people, but there’s plenty to keep the physically challenged occupied.”
“Such as?”
“Massage.” She let that sink in for a moment. “The resort has a lovely menu of them. For example—the Swedish massage using long, fluid strokes to relieve muscle tension and improve circulation. Optimum blood flow will facilitate healing in your leg. And the technique will ease you into relaxation and relieve stress throughout your entire body. That’s not just the spirit of vacation. It’s proactive participation in it.”
She looked up from her notes to gauge his reaction. There was a tight, tense expression on his face that wasn’t exactly disapproval, but something that made her heart skip a beat. It was as if he could think of something else to relieve his body’s tension, and that thought made her blush.
Looking back at her notes, she started talking, anything to fill the silence. “Here’s one you might like. Vibrational massage using specially blended oils that vibrate with the frequency of the seven energy centers of the body to open and revitalize the chakras. This synergistic experience of breathing in each of the powerful aromatic oils, along with light massage, leaves you feeling balanced.”
“Seriously?”
“Balance is good. That’s why one takes a vacation. There’s nothing wrong with working hard, but you need to offset it with play.” She glanced up and saw amusement on his face. “What?”
“You know what they say. Your chakras can’t be opened enough.”
“Okay. Moving on.” She flipped through the research. “Oh, here’s something. Artistic palm arrangement.”
“Basket weaving.”
“Well...yes, but it would be helpful if you weren’t an activity snob. The pictures of what people have done are quite impressive. And you can do it sitting down. All you need are two good hands and a yearning for artistic adventure.”
“I bet thrill seekers from all over the world are just flocking to that one,” he said wryly.
She nodded. “Good to know your chakras might be closed but your mind is completely open to possibilities.”
“I’m glad you noticed.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.
What she noticed was the way his smile and the gleam in his eyes warmed a path straight inside her and made her heart beat a little faster. Talk about possibilities. And no scenario in which she indulged them would end well. Look away, she told herself.
“I’ll put you down as a maybe for artistic palm arrangement.” She turned a page. “Now, this sounded like fun.”
“Don’t keep me in suspense.”
She ignored him. “A cooking class specializing in cuisine from the island. As the description says, ‘Extend your vacation by bringing home the palate-pleasing recipes for the foods that enhanced your leisure experience.’”

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