Читать книгу Gentle Persuasion - Cerella Sechrist - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

AN HOUR AFTER her arrival at the inn, Ophelia lay in the center of an enormous bed, eyes fixed on the circling ceiling fan. Dane had brought her bags up from the car, and now they rested on the floor as she counted the rotations of the fan blades above her, willing her weariness to ease her into slumber.

She had drawn the suite’s shades, dimmed the lights and turned on her traveling white-noise machine, but the chatter in her brain wouldn’t allow for rest. Rolling onto her side, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, instead. In. Out. In. Out. In...

It was no good. She was too distracted by the task at hand.

You can do this, Ophelia. You can do it.

She had made this her mantra for the past forty-eight hours—ever since her mother had drawn Ophelia into her private office and commissioned her with this task. Even now, recalling the conversation, Ophelia felt her stomach churning anxiously.

She had just finished wrapping up negotiations for a CFO in an investment group when her assistant, Holly, had stuck her head through the door.

She’d looked up with a grin. “Dinner at Le Petite Renard to celebrate? It’s on me.”

The fact that her assistant didn’t jump at this invitation was Ophelia’s first clue something was up.

“Your mother’s back from her meeting with Bianca Towers.”

Ophelia’s relaxed posture tightened up at Holly’s warning tone. She waited.

“She wants to see you in her private office.” Holly paused and then added, “Now.”

Ophelia swallowed and instantly rose to her feet.

She, of all the people in this city, knew better than to keep Lillian Reid waiting. Quickly, she headed out into the main office area of her floor. She brushed by Holly on her way, catching her commiserating glance before moving toward the elevators.

The digital reading blipped all too slowly as she counted the floors until the elevator car reached her. She nodded politely at her coworkers, stepped inside and asked for the senior-executive floor.

Her mother’s floor.

Was it her imagination, or were they nudging and sharing glances behind her? It felt as if several sets of eyes were drilling pointed stares into her shoulder blades. She squared her posture and kept her expression impassive.

The wait for the elevator had been far longer than the ride. As the doors pinged open, Ophelia barely resisted the urge to chew her lip with nervousness. She tried to keep her face professionally neutral as she stepped toward the reception desk and was waved through to the inner sanctum of Reid Recruiting Agency.

She caved to insecurity as she passed the black marble awards wall and paused to try and assess herself in the shiny reflection of a plaque.

Everything was perfect, every blond hair in place. She straightened her spine, just as her comportment lessons had instilled in her, and smoothed the designer suit that hugged her thin, five-foot-nine-inch frame. She tried to smile.

Nothing happened.

Her eyes were blinking rapidly, a sign of her distress. This would not do. Lillian expected a placid pool, no matter what sort of emotions raged underneath. Emotional displays were for lesser people. The face you presented to the world must be...flawless.

Ophelia slid her eyes closed, willing a neatness of composure. When she opened them again, the hunted look was still evident.

She prayed her mother would not notice.

Knowing she had wasted precious seconds on this perusal, she hurried toward the glass doors and greeted Tamara, her mother’s assistant.

“You can go on in, Ophelia,” Tamara offered. The other woman’s tone sounded almost pitying.

Ophelia swallowed as she approached her mother’s door and knocked briefly before sticking her head inside.

“Ms. Reid? You wanted to see me?”

Lillian Reid had strict rules about how her daughter addressed her. While “Mother” was appropriate at family events and in the privacy of the home, when in the office or among business associates, only Ms. Reid would do.

“Ophelia. Come in.” Lillian made a pointed show of studying her wristwatch, though she made no remark on the length of time it had taken Ophelia to reach the top floor.

Ophelia remained composed as she crossed the room and waited behind the Parisian leather chairs reserved for those summoned to sit across the desk from Lillian. She knew better than to sit immediately. Lillian enjoyed issuing commands, even ones so small as when you might seat yourself.

Lillian lifted her gaze from her watch, looked at her daughter and after a pause, gestured toward one of the chairs.

“You may take a seat.”

Ophelia gracefully brushed a hand beneath her skirt as she did. She folded one leg over the other, her spine straight and several inches away from the seat’s back. Just as she had been taught.

She did not speak, knowing Lillian preferred to take the lead in such meetings. Her mother took longer than usual, however, to voice her wishes, and so Ophelia did her best not to fidget, not even to shift her weight from one side of the chair to the other.

Lillian Reid stared down at her desk for an inordinate length of time, her eyes sharply assessing the spotless surface. The silence lingered for so long that Ophelia felt an unusual concern rise within her.

Swallowing, she broke the rules with a soft murmur. “Mother?”

It was the wrong move. Lillian’s hawklike gaze shot upward and caught her in its sights.

“Ms. Reid,” she firmly declared.

Ophelia dropped her head in shame. “I apologize, Ms. Reid.”

Her poise proved flawless in nearly every situation she found herself thrust into, but one moment beneath her mother’s—Ms. Reid’s—sharp stare, and she felt reduced to a humiliated child.

Though she ignored the apology, the exchange at least shook Lillian from her silent reverie. She smoothed her short, faded blond hair, a display of tension from her that Ophelia rarely witnessed, and then folded her neatly manicured hands before her.

“We have a situation,” she announced, her voice matter-of-fact.

Not trusting herself to speak further, Ophelia waited for her mother to continue.

“I have just come from a meeting with Bianca Towers.”

Ophelia prepared herself for potentially bad news. Bianca Towers was the heiress of an internationally renowned resort chain. With the recent passing of her uncle, the young socialite now possessed sole command of the Towers business and fortune.

Her reputation as a flighty party girl had caused a drop in revenue for the Towers name once she came into the seat of power, and Bianca seemed anything but happy about it.

Towers Resorts International had been employing Reid Recruiting Agency for years as their main source to fill top positions within their company. As one of Reid Recruiting’s most lucrative accounts, it remained imperative they keep Bianca Towers on good terms.

This was no easy task considering the temperamental, impulsive nature of the twenty-five-year-old socialite. And if anything put Lillian Reid in a bad mood, it was schmoozing the rich.

“She wants to turn the company’s image around and restore its reputation as one of the chief international resort chains.”

Ophelia remained silent, letting her mother continue at her own leisure.

“She wishes to launch a major PR campaign to draw in a diverse clientele—something that holds universal appeal.”

Ophelia tentatively cleared her throat. “She seems...ambitious.” Ophelia wouldn’t have thought that from what she’d read of the girl.

Lillian Reid did not comment on the observation. Instead, she continued, “Miss Towers believes there is only one way to make this happen.”

Ophelia braced herself. Lillian rested her eyes on her daughter’s. “She wants Dane Montgomery to head the creative marketing division and lead the campaign.”

Ophelia swallowed. “He’s retired.”

Lillian rolled her eyes, and Ophelia berated herself for having pointed out the obvious.

“He’s the best.” From Lillian’s tone, it was clear she was mocking the very words Bianca must have spoken in Dane’s regard.

“Where is he?” Ophelia asked.

“Hawaii, if what the trades said three years ago still holds true. He gave everything up to—” she waved her hand dismissively “—grow fruit on an island or some such dull venture.”

Ophelia processed this. “So, Bianca wants us to recruit Dane Montgomery for her?”

Lillian nodded. Ophelia hesitated, loath to ask the next question.

“And...if we can’t?”

Her mother’s piercing stare sliced into her once more. “She pulls the entire Towers Resorts International account.”

Ophelia’s eyes widened. “What? Everything?”

The same clipped nod.

“But that would mean—”

“Cutbacks. Layoffs.” Lillian shuddered as she uttered the dire word, “Downsizing. These actions will be interpreted as weakness, and more clients will follow in Bianca’s wake.”

“We can’t let that happen.”

For the first time in ages, Lillian bestowed a rare smile of approval upon her daughter.

“No. We cannot.” She swiveled in her desk chair, tidying a stack of paperwork. “That’s why I’m sending you to Hawaii to recruit Dane Montgomery.”

This pronouncement elicited a round of blinking from Ophelia. She fought to maintain her poise in the face of this startling statement. “You’re...sending...me?”

True, she was one of Reid Recruiting’s best. Yet, such a crucial assignment surely called for the cream of the crop.

Lillian tented her fingers and fixed the full weight of her considerably intimidating stare on her daughter.

“You started as an assistant at this company, following your graduation from college. You have worked your way up the ladder without any help from me. I have shown no favoritism toward you thus far, and yet you have still made it clear your wishes are to expand our offices into Paris, with you at their helm as Director of European Operations. Do you, or do you not, wish to see your dreams fulfilled?”

Ophelia swallowed, striving for the same cool demeanor her mother exhibited now. Paris. It had been her dream since she was a child, during the short years she and her mother had lived abroad in France with her father. Those had been the happiest times of her life, and it was the tragedy of her existence that they had been so fleeting. Her father, considerably older than her mother, had passed on, and Lillian Reid had returned to the States with her young daughter in tow to found the Reid Recruiting Agency. Ever since that time, Ophelia had wished for two things: to earn her mother’s everlasting approval by following in her footsteps and to expand the corporation’s success into the city where she had been happiest—Paris, France. Every step of her education and career had been aimed toward that one, solitary goal.

“Are you saying...if I do this, if I can convince Dane Montgomery to return to New York as the Creative Marketing Director of Towers International...you’ll help me open the Paris branch?”

Lillian gave a short nod. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, is it not? I’ve certainly listened to enough chatter from you about it.”

Lillian rotated her chair toward the expansive window overlooking the city. “Countless others have tried to bring Montgomery out of retirement. If you succeed in procuring him for Bianca Towers, a coup like that will assure your success in an overseas venture. Our client lists will triple as everyone scrambles to sign with the agency responsible for doing the impossible—bringing Dane Montgomery back into the game.”

Ophelia felt a tremble beginning deep within the center of her chest, radiating outward in a peak of adrenaline. Paris. Her dream city. Her mother was right; she had talked about this for a long time. It had been her one desire ever since she’d been old enough to understand her mother’s business. She nibbled her lip as she considered the possibilities.

The offer, however, appeared to have a limited response time, and her reply must have been taking too long.

“Of course, if you feel you’re not ready, not up to the task...I can send someone else, one of the senior recruiters...”

“No!”

This slip of decorum caused Lillian to glance at her.

“No,” Ophelia continued in a calmer voice. “I’m capable. You know that.”

Lillian nodded. “I agree. Because you see, Ophelia—” she pivoted the chair back in her daughter’s direction “—only you can truly appreciate what is at stake here. Only you, as my child, know the sacrifices that have been made, the labor that has been involved in making Reid Recruiting one of the top agencies in the field. Only you can understand.”

She paused, her gray eyes calculating as she looked at her daughter. “We cannot lose that. Do you understand me? We will not lose that.”

Lillian was right. Only Ophelia could appreciate the significance of the situation—she had to succeed at this. She had to keep Reid Recruiting on top. If she didn’t do it, they were lost. And she, along with her mother, would suffer the worst of the consequences.

Should she accomplish this, however, she would be rewarded accordingly—Paris, Director of European Operations, her mother’s stamp of approval. A dream fulfilled.

Ophelia had set her features with the same frosty determination her mother’s had exhibited. “Yes. I understand. You can count on me, Ms. Reid.”

Another rare, if somewhat deprecating, smile had been bestowed.

Now, some forty-eight hours later, and thousands of miles away from that tense scene, Ophelia could still feel the stab of her mother’s grim expression. Compelled by the memory, she slung her long legs over the bed’s edge and pulled herself from its soft foundation to head toward the bathroom.

Staring into the carved-wood-frame mirror, she ran her fingers over her features, picking out the items which possessed a similarity to Lillian Reid’s. There were only slight resemblances—very little, other than the hair color her mother now dyed—between the two. She could have been anyone’s daughter, could have belonged to anyone.

But her lips. Her mouth. This was the one characteristic linking them genetically. The soft pink lips tapering outward to a pointed edge. This was her inheritance.

She touched that feature now and willed her lips upward.

Her mother’s infrequent smile stared back at her in haunting reminder.

Only you can understand.

* * *

AFTER UNPACKING HER suitcase, Ophelia stood beneath the bathroom shower for long minutes and let the warmth of the spray ease away her tension. Changing into more casual clothes, she stretched out on the bed once more and logged on to the inn’s internet connection.

She spent the next few hours on her laptop in the Liliuokalani suite, clicking through websites and articles that mentioned Dane Montgomery. The research Holly had given her, along with her mother’s instructions and her own memory, provided the necessary framework to form a profile of Dane’s past and accomplishments. But Ophelia knew she needed to dig deeper if she was to achieve her goal.

The web was a wealth of information on the former advertising executive, highlighting awards, achievements, accolades and a sparkling career path that had sent Dane higher and higher into the echelons of the corporate world. And then, suddenly, articles dated three years previously exploded into her browser, announcing Dane’s retirement and exit from business. There were dozens of speculations on the reasons: everything from a love child with some celebrity or other to a debilitating disease eating him alive. It was all fodder for the gossips, especially when Dane’s official statement proved to be rather dull reasoning.

I plan to seek out new challenges in a different direction. While I value my time spent in this industry, I’m looking to find personal fulfillment at a less frenzied pace.

He was labeled everything from “certifiably insane” to “a groundbreaking genius.”

In the end, Ophelia sensed he simply felt tired—a feeling she could relate to after her years climbing the ladder at Reid Recruiting. But she had worked relentlessly to prove her value, and now, finally, she would be rewarded. If she could drag Dane back to the world he had left behind.

With a sigh, Ophelia logged off and closed her laptop. She reached for a pillow and curled herself around it, her mind cataloging everything she’d gleaned from her research. She mentally filed away each scrap of information on Dane as she continued to form and revise her plan to recruit him. Soon, jet lag and the six-hour time difference between Hawaii and New York caught up with her. The next thing she knew, she woke to darkness outside her window and the soft sound of island crickets filtering in on the midnight air.

Sitting up in the bed, she realized she’d slept away the rest of the afternoon and all of the evening. Annoyed with this waste of hours, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and decided to see if, by chance, anyone remained awake.

Easing open the door to her room, she glanced down the hall in both directions. A soft light illuminated the stairs, so Ophelia headed that way, her feet moving soundlessly across the carpet. She had just reached the bottom step and noted all the inn’s lights were off for the evening when she heard what sounded suspiciously like a motorcycle outside. She crept closer to the open windows. The echo of hushed dialogue and muted giggles drifted toward her as the motorcycle purred gently.

Leaning forward, she carefully parted two of the blinds’ slats and peered out. In the pale light spilling from the front porch, Ophelia saw a girl leaning against the solid form of a young man as he remained seated on the bike.

They were murmuring affectionately, their foreheads pressed together, and Ophelia felt a sudden tug of longing. She couldn’t remember Cole ever cradling her in such a way—not even in the early stages of their relationship four years ago. But then, he had never much liked public displays of affection. She suppressed a sigh and though she felt jealous of the young couple outside the inn, she experienced no such regret for ending things with Cole.

But to be held in such a way...wasn’t that every girl’s dream?

As the embrace lingered, Ophelia felt embarrassed for intruding. Straightening, she began to head back toward the stairs but stubbed her toe on the edge of a cabinet, causing her to hop around and bite back a string of curses. By the time she regained her balance, the front door had eased open, and the girl she’d been spying on stood before her. For a moment, they simply stared at each other in surprise.

Ophelia rubbed her opposite foot over her smarting toe. “Sorry,” she apologized.

“For what?” the girl asked.

“Um...” Ophelia trailed off, reluctant to admit she’d been watching the younger woman’s midnight tryst.

“Are you a guest?” The girl stepped forward, and Ophelia could only nod in acknowledgment. The younger woman’s face split into a beaming smile featuring even white teeth against the backdrop of her smooth, sun-kissed complexion. “Aloha, I’m Leilani.” She extended a hand. “I’m in charge of reception, events and bookings.”

Though the words were spoken softly in deference to the late hour, Ophelia noted the pride in them. She relaxed at the friendly introduction.

“Ophelia Reid,” she said in equally hushed tones and inserted her hand into Leilani’s. “I flew in from New York this morning. I’m booked in the Liliuokalani suite for the week.”

“Oh, yeah.” Leilani’s head bobbed, her long, dark hair swishing forward with the movement. “You booked at the last minute, right? Something about unexpected travel plans?”

Ophelia licked her lips, uncertain how much she should reveal to one of Dane’s employees. “Well, um...yes. My assistant would have been the one to make all the arrangements.”

Leilani’s eyes widened. “Oh. Your assistant?”

“It’s a long story.”

Leilani cocked her head with curiosity, studying Ophelia. “Have you eaten?” she questioned at last.

Ophelia’s stomach growled right on cue. She frowned apologetically. “I fell asleep for a few hours. The time difference and all.”

Leilani waved a hand as if this happened all the time.

“I suppose I could drive down to the coast,” Ophelia considered. “Surely there’s got to be some late-night diners open or something.”

Now Leilani was shaking her head. She reached out to grab Ophelia’s hand, dragging her along as she spoke in whispers. “I’m starving! We’ll raid the fridge together. That way, if we get caught, I can tell them you forced me into it.”

Ophelia couldn’t help grinning at this girl’s friendliness.

“But there’s one condition.” Leilani halted and turned to face her. “You can’t tell my tutu or Dane that I got in so late.”

“Tutu?”

“My grandmother,” Leilani explained.

“Oh.” Ophelia considered her. “Are you breaking your curfew? I did that a time or two myself back in high school.” Never any more than that, though. She dared not risk it and upset her mother.

“I’m almost nineteen,” Leilani said, “but after everything that happened last year, I still get treated like I’m a toddler sometimes. Especially by my tutu.”

Leilani released Ophelia’s hand and led her through a doorway, flicking on lights to reveal the interior of the inn’s kitchen. When Leilani began speaking once more, her voice was soft but not nearly so hushed as before.

“Dane’s not so bad—he trusts me. But Tutu still worries.”

“Your grandmother...er, your tutu, is...” Ophelia prompted.

“Oh, Pele. The housekeeper and cook? You probably met her already. You’d remember if you had.”

Ophelia grimaced at the recollection of the short, feisty woman. “Yes. I know what you mean.”

Leilani nodded, her expression serious despite the humor in Ophelia’s tone. “I got into some pretty bad stuff a year ago. I cleaned up my act but grandmas...you know how they are.”

Ophelia bit her lip and didn’t say anything. Her paternal grandparents had been gone long before she was born, and she had never gotten to spend much time with her maternal ones before they passed away during her college years. Her mother had avoided visits with them as much as possible.

Leilani seemed not to notice Ophelia’s silence as she turned and opened the fridge door to begin rummaging inside.

“Do you like huli huli chicken?” she asked from within the recesses of the refrigerator.

“I’m sorry—what?”

Leilani emerged holding several containers. “Huli huli chicken?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh, um...I guess it’s sort of like barbecue chicken but with ginger, soy sauce, brown sugar, you know.”

Another rumble in Ophelia’s stomach settled the matter for her. “I’d love to try it.”

Leilani nodded with a grin and continued to pull containers from the fridge, announcing their contents as she placed them on the kitchen island.

“Mango bread, huli huli chicken, steamed rice with pineapple, roasted sweet potatoes...”

Ophelia began peeling lids off the dishes. “Sounds like a feast.”

“Tutu may be a little prickly sometimes, but her food is pure sweetness.”

Inhaling the fragrant scents of soy, spice and sugar, Ophelia didn’t argue this statement. Leilani opened cupboards and pulled forth plates and glasses. Placing them on the kitchen island, she gathered utensils and began spooning out generous helpings of the leftovers.

“How are you enjoying Hawai’i?” the younger girl asked conversationally.

Ophelia noticed she pronounced her homeland’s name with the appropriate accent. It was a pleasant sound.

“It’s beautiful. An island paradise. But I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours, so I can’t say I’ve experienced much.”

“Except Tutu’s hospitality?” Leilani smirked as she slid a plate of food into the microwave above the stove to heat it.

“Is she always so...”

“Outspoken? Usually.” Leilani shrugged. “But she’s been touchy lately. Things are...tense.”

Ophelia straightened with interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah. The inn and plantation are experiencing financial issues. When Dane bought the property, it had fallen into pretty bad disrepair. He sank all of his savings into the renovations and roasting equipment, and he hasn’t been able to recoup his investment.”

Ophelia mulled over this new information. “Any new venture takes time to turn a profit,” she remarked.

“That’s what Dane tells Tutu to keep her from worrying. But it’s not hard to tell that he’s worried, too.”

The microwave emitted a series of beeps, and Leilani swapped out one plate for another. She turned to face Ophelia once more.

“So you should feel good, knowing your stay here contributes to a worthy cause.” She winked pleasantly, and Ophelia felt the sting of guilt.

“It’s a lovely inn, and I’m happy my stay will provide a bit of income. Only...”

Leilani placed the first warmed plate of food on the table and gestured for Ophelia to take a seat. Carrying her glass and a set of flatware with her, she settled at the teak table.

“Only?”

“Only, I’m afraid you’ve been nothing but sweet and open with me, and you’ll likely not appreciate my reasons for coming here in the first place.”

Leilani considered her for several seconds, and Ophelia left the plate of food untouched as they stared at each other. Eventually, the microwave’s beeping broke the silence.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Leilani made no move toward the microwave.

“Them?”

“From Dane’s past. From New York.”

“No, not exactly. I mean, yes, I’m from New York. But I just met your boss this morning. I knew him by his reputation in the corporate world, but we never laid eyes on each other before today.”

Leilani cocked her head, studying. “Then you’re one of those recruiters.”

Ophelia dipped her head in acknowledgment. “How many have there been? Before me?”

Leilani shrugged carelessly before turning toward the microwave. “Enough to become an annoyance.” She turned back and studied Ophelia. “None as pretty as you, though.”

Ophelia blushed, but Leilani turned back toward the microwave without commenting further. Removing her own warmed plate, she joined Ophelia at the table, settling comfortably across from her. Ophelia toyed awkwardly with her silverware, not wanting to appear rude by diving straight into the food. Her mother had instilled that habit in her long ago.

Leilani noted her fidgeting and grinned, putting her at ease once more. “Go ahead. Tutu’s a much better cook than conversationalist—I promise.”

Offering a small smile in return, Ophelia took up her fork and speared a chunk of roasted sweet potato. The starchy morsel melted on her tongue, a tangy ginger glaze causing her taste buds to tingle happily. She quickly forked another bite and then a third into her mouth before moving on to the crisp, smoky, soy skin of the huli huli chicken. After a long stretch of minutes and more bites that included the doughy, honeyed mango bread and fragrantly steamed rice with pineapple, Ophelia paused to take a breath. At some point while she ate, Leilani had filled her glass with lime-spiked water. She took a long sip before shrugging apologetically.

“I must have been hungrier than I realized.”

Leilani beamed at her. “It’s good to see a city girl eat like that. Most of the other recruiters who came turned up their noses at our food. It offended Tutu immensely.”

“It’s their loss,” Ophelia assured as she peeled another savory section of chicken from the bone and popped it into her mouth.

“Tutu’s going to end up loving you.”

Ophelia wrinkled her nose with skepticism. “I somewhat doubt that, but...” She paused. “Thank you. For not getting upset about why I’m here.”

Leilani licked her fingers and leaned back in her chair. “You’re just doing your job.”

“That’s a very positive outlook. I hardly imagine other recruiters were welcomed so generously.”

“Dane’s a grown man. He knew what he was doing when he left the mainland, and he knows what he’s doing here. No one can change that, except him. Tutu doesn’t give others enough credit to make their own decisions.”

Ophelia reached for a napkin from the stack in the middle of the table. She wiped her fingers with it before placing it next to her plate. “Is that why you were sneaking in tonight? She doesn’t trust you?”

“It’s more complicated than that. Tutu has been responsible for me for years. And she had good reason to worry for a long time. But things are different now. I’m different. And she hasn’t been able to see that.”

“She seems like a woman who could be pretty stubborn....” Ophelia thought about her own mother’s rigid standards and dropped her eyes to toy with the remains of her rice, pushing the grains into a tidy pile in the corner of her plate. “But I’m sure she loves you. She seems like someone who would love fiercely.”

When she looked back up, Leilani nodded. “She is! She’s been there for me through a lot. I just wish she’d give me some credit for how much I’ve changed.”

Ophelia tried redirecting the subject. “Who was it that brought you home tonight, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Leilani’s eyes sparkled at this question. “My boyfriend, Sam. We’ve been seeing each other for three months now. Dane’s even been giving him odd jobs around the plantation. I think it kinda drives Tutu crazy, having him around so much.” Leilani giggled at this.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” she asked.

Ophelia started at this unexpected question.

“Um...”

“You’re not wearing a wedding ring.” Leilani pointed out the obvious.

“No. I, er, recently got out of a long-term relationship.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

But even as she said the words, Ophelia noticed the younger girl smiling.

She raised her glass of water. “Then here’s to your week of island adventures.”

Ophelia thought it a strange toast, but she clinked her glass next to Leilani’s and then took a sip.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Leilani said. “It will be good for Dane.”

Ophelia couldn’t be sure what Leilani meant by that and decided perhaps it was safer not to ask.

* * *

DANE WAITED RATHER anxiously for Ophelia Reid to appear in the inn’s dining room the following morning. Keahi filled a large plate with stacks of golden macadamia nut waffles slathered in coconut syrup while Pele listened to Leilani chattering about her time kayaking at Kealakekua Bay the day before. Dane sipped from his coffee and made occasional attempts to read the newspaper, but with each slight noise, he would glance up, expecting to see Ophelia enter the room.

He attributed this edginess to Ms. Reid’s agenda—the last thing he wished to deal with was a pushy recruiter making the same offers he’d heard dozens of times in the past three years. But deep down, he had the uneasy feeling that Ophelia’s proposal wasn’t the only reason his gaze kept wandering to the dining room doorway.

He was sending just such a glance toward the entry when she finally appeared. The sight of her caused a tingling of interest along his nerves, but he forced himself to greet her casually with an offhand, “Good morning.”

He noted with a frown that she was not much more suitably dressed than the day before. Her pale green button-down shirt and knee-length black skirt flattered her figure immensely but reinforced the impression of her professional image. Dane didn’t much like the reminder, even if he did admire the long length of her calves as she crossed the room.

He forced himself to look away, returning to his papers, though he couldn’t find where he’d left off in the article he’d been reading. He finally placed the page aside and looked up, catching Ophelia’s eye. She offered a friendly smile, which ignited a warmth in his stomach. He found it a difficult endeavor to tear his gaze away from her.

“Are those waffles?” she questioned as she pulled out a chair.

“Macadamia nut,” Keahi offered around a mouthful of food. He shoved the platter her way before introducing himself. “I’m Keahi, the boss’s right-hand man.” He stood and reached across the table to offer the hand he had just mentioned.

She took it before seating herself across from Leilani and to Dane’s right. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Ophelia.”

“Keahi is my plantation manager,” Dane felt the need to elaborate.

“Would you like some sausage?” Leilani extended the plate.

Ophelia nodded and took a link. “Everything looks delicious, Pele.”

Pele didn’t utter a sound of acknowledgment but moved around the table to begin mounding several spoonfuls of fresh fruit onto Ophelia’s plate.

“Tutu loves to cook. It’s part of her nurturing spirit,” Leilani informed.

Dane cocked his head in curiosity. “Ophelia, you haven’t met Leilani yet, have you?”

Both girls flushed with what looked like guilt to him. He studied them more closely.

“Have you?” he pressed.

“Of course not,” Ophelia spoke up and then reached across the table to extend her hand. “Leilani, you must be in charge of reception and bookings. You probably spoke to my assistant, Holly, on the phone on Friday.”

“Miss Reid, of course.”

“Please, call me Ophelia.”

They looked way too conspiratorial for two people who had just met. He glanced at Pele, but she was busy pouring Ophelia a glass of juice and didn’t notice the exchange. And then, as one, the two younger women turned to look at him. He had the strangest feeling of being left out of something, and he didn’t much like it. When he gave no reaction, they turned back to each other.

“And what are your plans for your stay, Ophelia? I believe your assistant said you were on a business trip?” Leilani questioned.

“Yes, I’m actually here to present your boss with an offer to return to the mainland. As the Creative Marketing Director of Towers Resorts International.”

“Towers Resorts? Aren’t they opening a resort in Waikiki?” Keahi questioned.

Ophelia nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, among a few others. It’s part of an ongoing expansion project. However, Bianca Towers, who inherited the company following her uncle’s death, is striving for a new image, and she’d like your boss to lead the way for her.”

“He’s retired,” Pele flatly informed.

Dane said nothing and waited for Ophelia’s response.

“I understand, but your boss was the best the business world has seen in terms of innovation and success in the advertising and marketing field. It’s why he still receives offers, even three years into his retirement.”

She slid a glance his way, but he refused to react to this praise. He had heard the same drivel spouted endlessly for years—it failed to penetrate anymore. He was proud of his previous successes, but he felt driven by his newest challenge—cultivating coffee. Ophelia spoke of his old life, and he was only interested in the new.

Leilani, however, looked at him with a curious gaze. “Is that true? Were you really as good as she says?”

He reached for his coffee. “Headhunters exaggerate.”

“Recruiters,” Ophelia corrected, and he felt gratified by the way her jaw tightened on the word, “focus on potential.”

“Well, my potential has been refocused. Here. To this plantation.”

She met his gaze with a determined one of her own. “Perhaps you’d like to hear the terms of the proposal before you dismiss it out of hand?”

“After breakfast,” Dane relented, knowing he’d have to at least look at the offer. She wouldn’t give up until he did, and they might as well get the formalities out of the way so he could focus on running his plantation. “Deal,” Ophelia declared, the one word causing him to cringe as if it indicated he’d agreed to the contract.

Ophelia must have noticed his reaction because she frowned. “My suite is beautiful,” she said, as if this one compliment could make up for her being here.

“Ms. Reid—”

“Ophelia,” she again corrected.

“Ophelia,” he repeated with a nod in her direction, “is staying in the Liliuokalani suite.”

“Without a husband,” Pele tacked on as she settled into her own seat.

“I believe Lili-uo-kalani,” Ophelia pronounced the name with care, “was a forward-thinking lady, was she not? Surely she would approve of a single woman renting a suite that bears her name.”

Pele clucked her tongue. “What do you know of Liliuokalani?”

Ophelia’s grin seemed slightly smug, Dane thought. “I know she reigned as Hawaii’s last sovereign before the monarchy was overthrown around the turn of the previous century. She became queen following her brother’s death. David Kalakaua—am I saying that right?—who had named her his successor when he had no children to inherit the throne. A terrible injustice, the way she was imprisoned in Iolani Palace for a year and then later forced to abdicate. It is a fitting name for such a lovely suite, by the way.”

Dane stared at Ophelia following this unexpected flow of information. His gaze shifted to find Pele’s eyes narrowed to slits but then she gave a nod of approval. “You should eat more. You’re too skinny.”

Pele moved to pile another stack of waffles onto Ophelia’s plate. She nudged the syrup within easy reach. Dane eyed Ophelia again until she glanced his way, and then he arched his eyebrow in question at her newfound knowledge.

“I looked it up,” she confessed as she unfolded her napkin and smoothed it across her lap. “Your free Wi-Fi amenity is quite good here.”

He found himself fascinated by her confident demeanor, and the way she licked her lips before cutting into a section of waffle. The movements held him mesmerized, the length of her fingers, the curve of her wrist...until Keahi cleared his throat, and Dane shook himself back to awareness.

Ophelia didn’t seem to notice his distraction. “I only managed a brief glance at the property on my way in yesterday. Tell me more about the coffee plantation.”

Dane hesitated, uncertain why a recruiting headhunter wished to know about his life here unless she planned to use it in her arguments somehow. The air around the table grew thick with tension as he waited, studying Ophelia’s face. She remained turned toward him, her expression open and genuinely curious. He could feel the rest of his staff waiting for him to respond.

“There are fifteen acres, and about 2,500 coffee trees. We also have an orchard with mangoes, papayas, bananas and coconuts. Most of the fruit you’re served here at the inn is harvested from the plantation. We sit at an elevation of 1,200 feet above Kealakekua Bay, but we’re a short drive to some of the best attractions you’ll find anywhere, including snorkeling, swimming, historic spots, shopping and tours.”

“Yes, your brochure was most impressive,” she noted, and Dane frowned, realizing he had repeated most of what was already in their literature.

“So, why coffee?” Ophelia questioned as she speared a bite of sausage. “Why Hawaii?”

“Why not?” he countered. “Coffee is one of the world’s most sought-after commodities, and Hawaii is paradise.”

“But don’t you ever miss the city?” she pressed.

He leveled his gaze on her. “The concrete, the press of people, the exhaust fumes?”

“The accessibility, the high-rises, the adrenaline?”

“Didn’t we agree we’d negotiate after breakfast?”

To his consternation, he felt that same warmth spreading through his stomach as Ophelia Reid grinned brightly at him and didn’t say another word.