by Hart, Taylor
Eric’s hair looked as if he’d spent the night running his hands through it, and his bloodshot eyes didn’t look much better. He wore clothes similar to what he’d worn the day before. His pants were wrinkled, and his rumpled shirt was untucked.
The former Carmichael noticed her first, barely visible behind the corner. He pointed. “There she is!”
Eric’s head popped up, and their eyes met. Lauren nearly swore. Now what? Tell Sirkku to call security? She opened her mouth to do just that, but his frantic, sleep-deprived look—and the knowledge that he wanted to apologize, even if the deal was off—pricked her conscience.
“Miss Fisher,” Sirkku said, indicating her phone. “Should I—”
“No, it’s fine,” Lauren said coolly. “Gentlemen, I have a busy day, but if you’d like, I can give you five minutes.”
Lauren walked past them straight into the conference room. She was aware of the men following her, and then of the fact that she wasn’t wearing any shoes. So much for looking extra professional today.
She took her seat at the head of the table and turned to the door. Eric entered alone and closed the door behind him, leaving his associate in the hall, visible through the narrow floor-to-ceiling window by the door. She gestured toward the chair at her right. “Please. Have a seat.”
He nodded and sat down, his hands clasped on the table. He looked miserable and tired.
Good. She wasn’t going to make him comfortable by opening the conversation. He’d come here to apologize. Let him apologize.
“Five minutes,” she said. To emphasize the point, she looked at the clock on the wall before rotating her chair slightly to face him, brows lifted in expectation.
Eric glanced over his shoulder at the clock and nodded, as if acknowledging that she was serious about the limit. “Mark always pretends to be me during initial negotiations.”
“Is that an apology?”
“No, you’re right. It’s not.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I lied to you. So sorry. You have no idea.”
She waited for him to make excuses to explain away his lie, but he didn’t. After what felt like a long silence, she asked, “Why do you and—Mark, is it?—do that? I thought I could trust Carmichael Industries, but this . . .” She shook her head and found her eyes threatening to water.
“I’ve had a lot of people try to take advantage of me.”
“You mean your money?”
“Yeah. My business. My money. And, in some cases, women have tried to, well . . .” His voice trailed off. He cleared his throat uneasily and went on. “A couple of years ago, I decided I need to see future partners as they really are, when they don’t know who I am.”
Darn it all, he was making sense. How could she hold a white lie against a man who had to protect himself against all kinds of things? Her heart melted a little, and when he leaned a little closer across the corner of the table, she found herself doing the same. Her heart sped up slightly.
“But you know what?” he asked.
“What?” Her mind was spinning, and so were her emotions. She thought back to their kiss and wanted to experience it again.
Eric reached out gently as if he was about to lay a hand over hers, but then rested it on the table. “The truth is, I’d already done plenty of research into Vista . . . into you. I knew I could trust you weeks ago. But I still went ahead with the charade. I shouldn’t have. That was wrong.”
Lauren eyed him, feeling torn. “What about how Car—I mean, your friend—wanted to get rid of the charities?”
“Part of the plan.”
“What, like a test?” Lauren wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or to be incensed at another lie.
“In a way, yeah.”
“And his come-ons?”
“His flirting?”
Lauren rolled her eyes and laughed. “Is that what he was doing?”
“It’s worked on a lot of women.”
“Not on this one.” She shuddered at the memory.
Eric leaned closer, his gaze penetrating and calm. “I can’t tell you how glad that makes me.” His voice was low, almost a whisper, but their faces were so close that she could hear him just fine. He was so near, and she’d drawn even nearer. The memory of kissing him washed over her, and her cheeks went hot.
She broke eye contact and looked at the pattern in the juniper table, then returned to the topic at hand. “This ruse of yours. Is that why I couldn’t find any pictures of you online?”
“That, and I prefer to be able to walk around without getting recognized.”
She should have been happy to have passed his tests, but the idea that every second she’d spent with him had been a facade—it weighed heavily in her middle. Remember your sisu. You founded a cosmetics empire, for Pete’s sake. She lifted her face to his. “I’m glad you’re being honest now, but that doesn’t change my mind.”
“About the partnership.”
“Yeah.”
“That’s fair.” He reached out again, hesitantly at first, but when she didn’t pull away, he touched her hand. “I’ve never run into this kind of situation before. I never meant to hurt you. And I am so sorry that I did. I want to make it up somehow, if you’ll let me—I’d love to donate to some of your charities.” He removed his hand. “And I promise I’ll leave you alone. I won’t bother you again. I just . . . I feel awful and want to do something to make things right.”
This wasn’t a man without morals or ethics after all. Was he for real? A tiny spark lit inside her.
Instead of responding directly to what he said, she posed a test of her own. “What’s your real name?”
“Eric.” He grinned in a goofy way that melted the edges of her heart even as confusion filled her. “Short for Frederick. But I hear that only formal situations, or when my mom gets upset with me. Although she adds my middle name, Howard.”
“Your mother still middle-names you?”
“I’ll always be her little boy.”
Man, she wanted to kiss that uneven smile.
“You know, I might be willing to reopen negotiations.”
“Really?” He seemed genuinely surprised.
“Yeah. You’re the kind of partner I’ve been looking for.” She paused, trying to straighten out her thoughts while her attraction roared back and muddled her thinking. “I miss the lab. I want to create, to experiment and fail and eventually come up with a new product that will solve a problem no one else has figured out.”
Eric cocked his head. “You look like someone who already has an idea for that product.”
“I do have an idea, and it has nothing to do with makeup. It would mean starting another company, in another industry, and I can’t do it all only to get burned out again.”
“What’s your idea?”
This wasn’t something she would have considered telling him twenty minutes ago, but now she had a desire to partner with him in her new endeavor, something she knew he’d care about and support. Maybe, just maybe, their partnership could be multifaceted.
“Balloons,” she finally said, leaning across the table again.
He did the same, only this time, their forearms touched, and their faces nearly did. “What about balloons?” he asked.
“I’m going to invent a latex alternative so people like Bow Tie can make balloon creations for those children in hospitals.”
A flash of pleasure crossed his face. “I wondered if that’s what you were thinking yesterday. But . . . are you sure? Bans on latex in hospitals mean that patients still get balloons, just in mylar or vinyl. You’d probably lose a lot of money.”
“What’s the point of having money if it’s not doing anything good?” Lauren asked. “I saw the joy you brought to those children and how excited the visitors at the monument were your—sorry, with Bow Tie’s—creations. I can’t help but think how many sick children’s spirits would be lifted all over the world if they could have their own balloon dog or giraffe or flower or sword . . .”
&nbs
p; He looked surprised. And impressed. “You’re serious.”
“Absolutely. Thanks to Vista, I have enough money to live on for the rest of my life. I’d like to do something meaningful with it.”
Eric reached for her hand, and she happily gave it to him. His wrapped around hers, and warmth coursed into her body. “I’d like to be part-owner in that venture. And maybe . . .” He lifted one shoulder in a shrug.
“Maybe?” Her heart was beating crazier than a drum line.
“Maybe it could be based here, in Helsinki, and maybe . . . I could be too.” He stroked the top of her hand with his thumb, a delicious sensation.
“Yeah. Maybe . . .” A thrill of happiness rolled over Lauren, one she wouldn’t have believed possible that morning. “You’d have to learn some Finnish,” she warned. “And learn to deal with dark, cold winters. It would be a huge change from California.”
“I know.” He took her other hand too. “But I hear the summers are lighter than I can even imagine, and warm and beautiful.”
“They are.”
“I aced Spanish in high school. Finnish can’t be that hard, right?”
At that, a giggle burst from Lauren. “Hardly.” She grew more serious. “But don’t worry about the language.”
“Why not?” he asked, drawing so close that she could feel his breath on her cheek.
“Because . . .” Her voice was barely audible. “I don’t want anything to keep you away.”
“Maybe we could explore another kind of partnership as well?” he asked.
She gave a tiny nod and smiled. “Sure. Maybe.”
Eric leaned in and kissed her. They’d figure out the logistics of how their businesses would merge. For now, all Lauren cared about as she kissed him back was that he was the man she’d always dreamed of—and she’d never dreamed of a rich man.
Whooping and clapping sounded, and Mark burst through the door. He must have been watching through the narrow slit of a glass. Lauren and Eric pulled apart to see Mark, Sirkku, and several other employees clapping and cheering. Very un-Finn-like.
Lauren blushed. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Yes, please,” Eric said, blushing too, which made him even more attractive.
She took his hand as she stood. “I’ll take you to the Fazer cafe.”
“Is that the brand of chocolate you gave me at the airport?”
“Yep.” She waggled her eyebrows.
“Be still my heart.”
Hand in hand, she led him past their cheering section to her office. She retrieved her things, and then they went through the door into the stairwell. When the metal clanged shut behind them, Lauren stopped and turned around.
Eric looked back, as if she was waiting for something. She stepped nearer and said, “No one’s looking now.”
This time, she kissed him, Frederick Howard Carmichael III. His full name sounded like money, and money didn’t matter to either of them.
To her, only one thing mattered: his heart.
She’d seen who he was, what truly lay inside him. Whether he went by Frederick or Eric or Bow Tie, the heart was the same.
This time, she wouldn’t have to wipe off any clown makeup, so she quite happily indulged in a very long, very satisfying kiss.
In memory of the original Bow Tie the Clown, Uncle Howard Luthy, 1946–2019.
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Annette Lyon is a USA Today bestselling author, a four-time recipient of Utah’s Best of State medal for fiction, a Whitney Award winner, and a five-time publication award winner from the League of Utah Writers. She’s the author of more than a dozen novels, even more novellas, and several nonfiction books. When she’s not writing, knitting, or eating chocolate, she can be found mothering and avoiding housework. Annette is a member of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association and is represented by Heather Karpas at ICM Partners.
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Day One
Penny leaned forward in the desk chair, her pale-blond hair falling over her shoulder as she focused on the income-and-expenses report for the new Bahamas resort. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. The successful opening of her first international resort was sure to put her in the running for a seat on the Wessex Resorts board.
“Penelope Elizabeth Stewart.” Her grandmother’s sharp voice came from the office doorway. “I thought you came to Daytona Beach for some downtime. The last time I checked, the pool wasn’t located in the business office.”
Penny started, then guiltily scooted away from the laptop. “Does anyone have truly get-away-from-it-all vacations anymore? Aren't there always elements of work? Emails to answer, reports to review?”
Mimi crossed the small room, put her beautifully manicured fingertip on the back of the laptop, then pushed the screen forward until it clicked shut. “You need to socialize more. Go out with friends to the movies and flirt with handsome young men.” She said the latter while shifting her eyebrows up and down, as if Penny hadn’t endured several dozen other hints about her lack of a romantic life over the past few months.
Penny did what she always did: deflected the not-so-subtle nudge with laughter. “You just want me to get married and pop out some great-grandchildren.”
Mimi let out a drawn-out sigh as she sank into the leather chair on her side of the desk. “I want you to be surrounded by people you love and who love you. Is that such a bad thing?”
“No, but until Mr. Right comes along, I need to create my own satisfying life. Besides, I have you and Papa. You’re all the family I need.”
“While I love how close we are, dear, I do believe that you’re missing the point. What could be more rewarding than a scrumptious husband to snuggle up with at
night?”
Penny shook her head. Her grandmother was from an entirely conventional generation. Ladies grew up, married, raised children, and supported their husbands. They may have worked when they were single, but the real goal was to start a family. “Things are different now, Mimi. Women do more than take care of babies. Besides, I'm not ready for that yet. I have a lot more work to do to earn my spot on the resort board.”
Mimi held out her hand, examining the shine on her manicure. “What if I were to share that your name has recently been brought up to be considered for a new division seat on the board?”
Penny straightened. Mimi had her full attention now.
“Of course, it needs your papa's and my endorsement first.” Mimi’s gray-blue eyes lifted from her nails to confront Penny. It was eerie how similar their eyes were. “Quite frankly, my dear, neither of us is sure that having you delve further into the family business is the right choice.” She lifted a finger, cutting off any of Penny’s protests. “We would think the same of any other person we considered to be a part of the Wessex Resorts leadership. We are in the business of alleviating the stress and humdrum of everyday life by promoting relaxation, exploring new adventures, and renewing relationships. It is essential that the company’s leaders not only understand the business side of running resorts, but that they also represent all that Wessex Resorts stands for. And yes, that means disconnecting from work and truly going on vacation. It means getting out of your comfort zone and trying out the local attractions the concierge recommends, connecting with people—not because they’re our clients, but because they have the potential to become friends and influence your life. Until we see you develop those qualities, your name is never going to move off the short list.”
Penny sat in stunned silence. Sure, she knew the board members took long weekends away from work once or twice a month, with a few longer vacatio
ns scattered throughout the year. But she always saw it as a perk they enjoyed while working for a high-end destination resort, not something that enhanced their abilities to do their jobs. Wasn’t that what their college degrees and years of experience were for? Did this mean that everything she had been doing, all her late nights and the weekends she spent working, had actually made her less appealing as a board candidate? The concept was perplexing, overwhelming her as she made a mental list of all the goals she needed to reconsider.
“I would like to offer a proposition,” Mimi said.
Penny swiveled the chair to face her grandmother. She knew that look on Mimi’s face. Not only had her grandmother caught Penny working, but she had some kind of scheme to inflict on her only granddaughter as well. “I’m listening,” she replied cautiously.
“There are ten days left of the two weeks you planned to spend in Florida. If you can leave work behind and take a real, honest-to-goodness vacation, then we’ll approve your name to be considered for the board position.”
Penny wanted to squee with delight. She could sort through her to-be-read list of books and lie around the pool for seven days. Then the position she had been working her butt off for would be within her reach. She visualized her new office, the gleaming wooden desk, and the spreadsheets! The organization goddess within her did a happy dance. “I’ll do it,” she blurted gleefully.
“Fantastic,” Mimi said, a delightful smile making her eyes twinkle. “I look forward to reading the report about your excursions, the people you met, and your thoughts on how we can improve our destination-vacation resorts.”
Penny felt like a bounce house whose air pump had malfunctioned, the big sheets of mesh and fabric folding in to bury her. “The what?”
“Like I said before, my dear, we are in the business of relaxation, discovering new adventures, and connecting with others. You didn’t think we were going to let you work on your suntan for a week, did you?” Mimi chuckled as she stood to leave. “Your papa and I expect you to visit the resort concierge for a list of local attractions and eateries. You also need to attend some resort social activities and make a real effort to connect with others. I would consider it a bonus if at least one of the new friends is of the single male variety. In fact, let’s say that two of those activities need to be considered an actual date.” Her grandmother winked as she moved to the office doorway. “At the end of the week, you will write a report to be delivered to us. Then we’ll discuss your potential future with Wessex Resorts. Enjoy your vacation, my dear,” she said, then turned and disappeared down the hall.
