SEDUCTION AT THE STARGRASS

by Charlee James

“It was nothing.” She brushed off his gratitude with a shake of her hand and twirled more fettucine around her fork. “Just a few event orders.”

  “And an eye opener.” Now he had her attention. “I suppose one of my major flaws is needing to be in control. I’ve always found a sense of comfort when I’m in charge. I let you help though, and the work was done faster, giving me time to focus on other things.”

  She placed her fork down to take a sip of her drink, eyeing him over the glass. “I only pointed it out because it’s something I recognize in myself. I actively have to practice relinquishing control. Don’t worry. It gets easier.” Her smile warmed him from the inside out. “I love being part of the action, so I head up an emergency task force at Dalton. Help franchisees neutralize the situation when disaster hits.” She picked up her utensils and continued eating. He liked that she wasn’t shy around him.

  “Is there anything you don’t do?” His tone may have been teasing, but he was blown away by her ability to juggle so many tasks. Her cheeks adopted a rosy hue, and she smiled.

  “Cook. I don’t have the patience for it, not to mention every time I try I end up with a charred mess,” she said, chuckling.

  “Well, thank goodness things can be packaged and delivered, then.” Perhaps he could give her a lesson before she left. Gemma’s face brightened. “Speaking of packages,” he said, “This just arrived for you.” He plucked the package that was in plain sight off of the tray. She hadn’t asked about it, so he was waiting for the right time to give it to her. Now seemed like a good time as any. The orb had a price tag to match the quality of craftsmanship that had gone into it, but would she think it was too much? Strange to receive a gift when they were ending the short relationship they’d had?

  “Zale…” Gemma was flustered and tongue-tied. Adorable. She untied the decorative twine and then slid a slender finger between the box and a strip of tape that held it closed. He studied her face as she parted a puff of earth-toned tissue paper, pushing it to the side. Gemma’s eyes widened, and she paused. She continued to stare at the glass-blown art, and his heart ticked away the seconds like the hands on a clock. Finally, after what seemed like a century, she lifted the piece with both hands and studied the thousands of tiny sparkles, like fairy dust, swirled in a sea of dark blue.

  “Sometimes, an item’s practical use is the sheer joy it brings,” he said. “You made sure to bring home a souvenir for each member of your family—even your employees. I wanted to make sure you got something, too.” There was a shift in his heart when she looked up at him with a glossy sheen in her eyes, then a click, as if two broken pieces of ceramic fused together to make a whole. Zale couldn’t begin to describe the rightness of her, and the sense of completion that enveloped him when they were together. Maybe he’d let Gemma help him this afternoon, but he wasn’t comfortable putting his heart in anyone’s hands. Even if he started to delegate more in the workplace instead of taking on so many tasks, his personal life was different. His trust and his heart had been broken the last time his life was melded with another. Mila hadn’t been old enough to remember, but if someone else joined their lives and left, what type of toll would that take on her? No, they couldn’t be together. For now though, he was content with the knowledge that someday soon, when she was back in New York, she might look at the artist’s creation and think of him. He clenched his jaw, a visceral reaction to the thought of her going away from the island.

  “You bought this the day we went to Edgartown? Her chin dropped to her chest as she continued to study the glass art.

  “Yes. As we were leaving the store.” Her reaction was making him wonder if she’d ever received a thoughtful gift. Of course, her family had more money than they could possibly know what to do with, but that didn’t mean anyone took the time to notice Gemma’s true interests and tastes.

  “How did I not notice?” her chin wobbled, and there was a slight tremor in her hands. “And how did you know how much I loved it?”

  “By paying attention.” He lifted his hand and smoothed a tendril of hair behind her ear. He shouldn’t be touching her with such affection.

  “I regretted not buying this the moment we left the store.” She leveled her gaze, and he was thankful she couldn’t feel the erratic rhythm of his heart. “This is the single most precious gift I’ve ever received. Not just because the piece takes my breath, but it will remind me to slow down and enjoy simple pleasures. It will remind me of you.”

  He forced a smile, swamped by a sudden heaviness. His mind warred with his heart, but he’d made up his mind about relationships long ago. They’d only known each other for a few days, and even though they were spectacular days, that was a lot to unhinge his future and his sanity for. She was the first woman he’d been with in a very long time, the first he’d wanted to be with. Was there any wonder he was conflicted about his feelings for her?

  He had to clear away some of the tightness in his throat. “I hope you will think of me.”

  She nodded, the movement rigid and tight. He’d try not to think of her, but it would be close to impossible. The woman sitting across from him was unforgettable. After they finished dinner, Zale put the tray to the side. He’d take it with him when he left. Already the thought of going back to his room stole some of the lightness she magically instilled, which gave him even more reason to leave now before his heart took control and stopped him.

  Chapter 12

  Gemma stared up at Zale. He was about to leave her room, but she had the overwhelming urge to stop him. He’d given her a precious gift, something he knew she loved and wanted her to have for the sheer joy it brought her. Not many people in her life would’ve given the glass orb a second thought. She gently displayed the art on the table and took one step toward him, then another, and laid a hand on his chest. His heart beat against her fingers in a quick but steady rhythm. She wouldn’t be surprised if Zale could feel hers pounding, even with the thick terrycloth robe between them.

  “Thank you for giving me such a lovely gift. For helping me realize that sometimes I too deserve something impractical because it makes me feel happy. And for seeing me,” she whispered. “Not an heiress or a business professional trying to get a promotion. Just me.”

  His brows stitched together, and he shook his head. “Our titles don’t define us. It’s what we do behind the scenes, when others aren’t watching, that’s important.” A line appeared between his brows as he studied her. “I heard we have fresh lavender scones in the lobby tonight, along with chamomile tea. I could bring you some.”

  “I rarely turn down baked goods, but you don’t have to get them for me. I’ll change into some real clothes and walk down later.”

  “I’m going to meet Mila in the lobby in a few minutes. I can wait, and we can walk down together.”

  She hesitated. Even though they’d planned to go their separate ways, it seemed neither of them were eager to say goodbye just yet.

  “All right then.” Gemma gathered up some clothes and stepped into the bathroom, quickly stripping down and pulling on some black slacks and a silk blouse. When she returned to the main room, Zale smiled at her.

  “You’re such a beauty.” The phone that was already in his hand chimed, alerting him to a text, and he glanced down to scan his eyes over the screen. “My mother is rounding onto the street with Mila. I need to go down and greet her. Shall we?” He opened the door to her suite, and gestured for her to walk through first.

  When they got downstairs, Mila was already racing through the lobby sporting an ear-to-ear grin and leaped up to throw her arms around Zale’s shoulders. A striking woman with dark hair threaded with silver and light turquoise eyes followed slowly behind Mila, carrying her school backpack.

  “We had quite a feast,” the woman said to Zale, and kissed his cheek. “And we did everything backward.” Her rich laugh filled the lobby. Gemma stayed to the edge of the group, entirely out of place in this warm family moment.

  “Crème brulée first.”
Two dimples popped up on Mila’s cheeks. “Then pasta primavera followed by a salad, so I got something healthy. And Ya-ya is teaching me to make my very first full-sized doll!”

  “It sounds like you had an excellent time.” Zale started to turn, and Gemma’s throat dried uncomfortably. He was going to introduce her to his mother. Mila followed Zale’s gaze, and her face brightened a shade when she noticed Gemma.

  “Daddy! Where are your manners?” Mila raced over and clasped her hand. It was small and soft tucked inside hers, and surprisingly strong as she found herself pulled into their circle.

  “Ya-ya, this is Gemma Dalton. She came to buy the resorts.” Mila tilted her head, and a devilish grin played over her face. “But she and Daddy are friends now. Gemma, this is my grandmother, Helia. She’s a famous dollmaker and an excellent chef.” Helia put a hand to her chest and laughed.

  “So nice to meet you, dear.” Zale’s mother stepped close, her warm, honeyed scent reminding Gemma of a delicious bakery. Helia took her hand, sandwiching it between both of hers. “And thank you, Mila, for the introduction.” Her eyes twinkled, and Gemma swallowed down the thick knot in her throat. This was a real family, one bound by love, not money. One you could count on in good times and bad. Something that she’d never experienced but always desperately longed for. She’d never felt more out of place.

  “Ma, with the storm coming, I’ll want you to stay at the hotel with us. Pack a bag, and I’ll get you in the morning.” He took the backpack from her and kissed her temple.

  “You’re aging me.” She frowned, eyes disapproving. “I’ll drive over to the hotel in my own car, dear.” Helia gave Mila a kiss on each cheek. “Sweet dreams, Paidi mou. And so lovely to meet you, Gemma. My son needs to be kept on his toes every once in a while.” Helia grinned and winked, and she nearly choked on her tongue.

  Zale’s mother had no sooner disappeared down the road when Zale’s two-way radio beeped incessantly.

  “Mr. Carris, you’re going to want to get down to the lounge area right away.” A voice, tinged with concern, broke through the lobby. A frown formed on Zale’s lips and his brows creased together.

  “What’s going on?” Zale’s tone was serious and quiet.

  “Mr. Brigham and Mr. Allister are having an…altercation.”

  Zale turned to her. “I’m so sorry for this, but—”

  “I can take Mila upstairs if you’d like.” She clutched her hands together, much more comfortable dealing with a brawl than Zale’s daughter, but he was in charge here, not her.

  “Well, I—” There was a hesitation in his eyes, and she couldn’t blame him. Mila was his child, and he was her protector.

  “Yes!” Mila yelled. “I want to show you my room and my doll collection.” Her glossy pigtails swayed as she hopped closer.

  “All right. If you’re sure, Gemma?” He took the first step toward the commotion, and she squared her shoulders.

  “Of course. Take your time.”

  Zale nodded, kissed the top of Mila’s head, and began to walk at a crisp clip.

  As they moved down the corridor, it was clear that an incident was in progress. A crowd had gathered, and in the center were two men, Mr. Brigham dressed in striped lounge shorts and a t-shirt and the other man she’d never seen before in a bathrobe. She quickly summed up the situation when she spotted Mr. Brigham’s wife, Cressida, in bathrobe between the two of them, and took Mila’s waiting hand.

  Zale turned to the right and walked directly into the pit of name-calling and obscenities, while she walked Mila toward the elevators to the left. Gemma pushed the button to go up, and moments later, it dinged, and the doors slid open. A woman with wild red hair and a crazed look in her eye burst from the elevator, nearly crashing into her and Zale’s daughter.

  Gemma stepped in front of Mila, sheltering her instinctively. The woman howled out an unsavory word that made the spectators hush and raced toward Cressida on a shriek that sounded like a battle cry. Zale caught her around the waist before her raised fist could connect with the other woman’s face, and Gemma covered Mila’s ears, and walked her into the elevator.

  “That wasn’t a nice word, was it?” Mila asked when the steel doors closed.

  “Certainly not. Are you okay? I didn’t bump into you, did I?” Her heart was beating at a rapid pace, and she inspected Mila from head to toe, looking for any sign of distress.

  “No. You protected me.” Mila took her hand and warmth expanded in her chest. “Do you think my dad’s okay?”

  “I’m sure he’ll have everything under control by the time we reach the third floor.” She mustered a smile, even as she took a few breaths to calm herself.

  The elevator chimed when they arrived at the top of the building. Mila took out her keys and unlocked the apartment door. Gemma followed her inside and glanced around the spacious room as Mila hung her backpack on a hook by the door. This was no bachelor pad, but a cozy home where people lived and played. Chapter books and school work were neatly stacked on a speckled granite island horse-shoed by bar stools. She could picture Mila sitting there in the morning as Zale made her breakfast at the six-burner stove. Beyond the kitchen was a cozy living room with a sectional couch and a contemporary throw rug laid over the glossy floors. In the corner was a glittery toy box doubling as a seat for dozens of stuffed animals and dolls.

  “Come see my room,” Mila said, skipping to the left. Gemma followed, gazing at a professional photo of Zale, Mila, and Helia hanging in the hallway, surrounded by several school photographs. She averted her eyes, intimidated by the homey setting that was utterly foreign to her.

  There had been no toys tossed around her childhood home, no throw blankets that invited you to curl up on a couch with a book. Every nook had been strategically planned by a designer. Every piece of furniture opulent and antique. There were no movie nights with popcorn in those pristine spaces, no resting your backpack by the door. Even Gemma’s bedroom had been a showpiece. The room of a perfect lady. How had she not rebelled or suffocated amongst the intense pressure to have everything in its place?

  The room she was looking at now made her smile. Yes, this was a sweet, happy space for a girl. All fun and sparkle with a pink crystal chandelier hanging over a fuzzy carpet and white furniture. A full-sized bed was flush against the back wall of the room, dressed in a unicorn comforter and sequined throw pillows. There was a dresser and a desk with a fuchsia swivel chair. Framing the room was a little table set for a tea party, a canopy bed, and a blush-colored Rolls Royce.

  The time flew by in a whirlwind of imaginative play—Mila certainly wasn’t lacking in that department. Hairstyles and wardrobe changes, tea and cakes, and a ride around the house in the Rolls that stopped in the kitchen for ice cream.

  “Daddy and I do make-your-own-sundaes on the weekend, but I’m sure he won’t mind if we make them now.” Mila was already reaching into the freezer for ice cream, and in the snap of a finger, she had out whipped cream, a jar of cherries, sprinkles, and fudge.

  Mila nudged the ice cream toward her. “Daddy usually does the scooping, because it’s kind of hard.” Gemma grinned and picked up the scoop Mila had placed on the island. She was under close scrutiny as Mila hopped up on a barstool and rested her chin on top of her hands.

  “All those things Mrs. Ainsworth was yelling…” Mila’s voice trailed off. “I hope Ally and Avery don’t have to leave the resort.” Mila inspected the table with drooping shoulders.

  Gemma took a breath. “I’m not sure what occurred, but I hope everything works itself out.” How she’d wished for a sibling during the early days of her parents’ separation. The accusations, the bitter arguments, and finally, her father wheeling suitcases to the front door. She pried the top off the tub of ice cream in front of her and raked the scoop over the top of the frozen treat.

  “Some kids at my school live with their moms some days and their dads on others. That’s what happens when adults get divorced.” She bit her bottom lip, considering. “D
addy didn’t get a divorce, because they weren’t officially married, you know? But my mom’s not here, so I guess it’s kind of the same.” Mila blew out a breath and inspected her nail polish. “I don’t mind, because Daddy’s like two parents in one, but Ya-ya says the apartment needs a woman’s touch and that Daddy is too young to be so alone.” Mila cast her an innocent smile, and Gemma nearly choked on her tongue. “Sometimes, I listen on the phone when I shouldn’t, but it’s nice to be in the loop.”

  Gemma added a dollop of whipped cream to both bowls. Why not? Difficult situations called for sweets. “I’m sure your dad just enjoys spending his free time with you. It’s busy work running three resorts.”

  Mila rolled her eyes up to the ceiling. “Tell me about it.” She sighed. “I told Daddy not to sign a contract with Dalton, but I let him know it was okay to take you on a date.”

  Gemma was torn between laughing and spitting out her ice cream. “Oh? Why’s that?”

  “You’re smart and pretty. Anyway, if my dad dates someone, they might become my mom, so I might as well like them, right?”

  “I see,” Gemma said carefully. She was in uncharted territory, afraid to say the wrong thing to crush the girl’s spirit, but certainly didn’t want to encourage her, as it seemed her and Zale set very specific parameters for their relationship. Still, she’d been on Martha’s Vineyard for a week, and in that time, she’d experienced more emotion, more changing of thought than she had in, well—ever. Gemma wasn’t sure what that meant, but she wasn’t about to give an impressionable girl hope when there wasn’t any, at the moment at least. She had commitments and responsibilities. Duty to her family’s legacy.

  “Let’s watch Toy Story until Daddy comes back.” Mila took her empty dish and Gemma’s to the sink, rinsed the bowls, and loaded the washer. She wasn’t sure why it surprised her, but it did. Mila was indulged, yet kind and thoughtful. Had she even known how to work a dishwasher at that age?