“Forgive me,” he said, pressing a kiss to her nose and closing her robe so she wouldn’t be cold.
He reached into his pocket, ready to throttle whoever was calling until he saw his mother's number on the screen. There was a rolling in the pit of his stomach. She wouldn't call unless there was an emergency. He answered, stumbling over his words "Is everything all right?"
“Mila’s safe,” she said quickly. “She saw a kitten being blown about in the storm and raced to the patio before I could stop her. Bernadette was ripped from her hands by the wind, and she’s inconsolable between the cat and her doll missing. I’m so sorry, honey, but I don’t know what to do.”
“Just tell her to prepare a warm spot for the kitten and some dry towels for Bernadette.” He was on his feet before he hung up the phone. His jaw dropped when he turned to see Gemma shedding the robe, and pacing across the room completely nude. She opened the dresser and slipped on peach-colored panties, a bra, shirt, and jeans. Zale’s eyes were fixated on the subtle curves and dips of her body.
“Well, don’t just stand there, we have a rescue mission to tend to.” She zipped up her hoodie as she paced across the room. He didn’t argue, and together they hurried out of the room, taking the stairs for speed.
“Take a left into this corridor. It leads just outside the apartment. Probably the view Mila saw the cat from.” He gripped her hand, and they sprinted to the thick glass door at the end of the hall. “Stay inside.” He quickly kissed her forehead and pivoted on the balls of his feet.
“Really?” The tone of her voice, haughty and annoyed, told him she’d be right on his heels as they pushed out into the storm.
“No. It’s too dangerous. Wait for me here.” He struggled against the door. Visibility was non-existent as precipitation assaulted the glass.
“I don’t think so.” She fisted her hands on her hip with an indignant expression on her face.
His Gemma wasn’t one to take orders. The thought momentarily stunned him. She was his. Couldn’t be. Using the unexplainable anger that washed over him at the notion, he jammed his left shoulder into the hard door, and it finally gave way. He held it open for Gemma, and they fought against the wind and onslaught of rain. It cascaded down his face and neck, soaking his clothes and the skin beneath them.
“This’ll be faster if we split up,” Gemma yelled over the roaring wind. He was about to protest, but she had already disappeared down the lawn. She could be an inch from him or a mile, he would never know with the water stinging his eyes, making it impossible to see. He fumbled along, calling to the cat. He’d never had one before—maybe he was scaring it. Zale squinted, trying to get his bearings. A few times he thought he spotted something that might be an animal only to find debris from the storm. He had to locate Gemma, make sure she was safe. He turned and heard the faintest cry through the wind. More like an exhausted shriek. He moved aside a piece of driftwood, barely making out something white against the grass. Zale let out a huge sigh and tucked the tiny kitten against his chest.
“Gemma,” he cried, swiveling around. His heart raced, nearly exploding as he searched the area for her. He swept his free hand across his forehead to get rid of some of the sweat and rain. Had she gone inside? And why hadn’t he insisted she stay inside where it was warm, dry, and safe? The wind was whipping too quickly around him, and the kitten was nearly limp in his arms. Then he saw her, knee deep in the harbor, waves crashing up to her mid-thigh. Gulping down breaths, he raced toward her and gripped her arm at the elbow to yank her out.
“I’m fine.” Her shout did nothing to quell the adrenaline and fear snaking through him like acid. “I got the doll,” she yelled as he looped one hand around her waist like a shepherd’s hook and pushed her toward the resort. His fingers slipped against the handle of the resort’s door, but landed solidly in his grip the second time. Dry heat blasted against his face as he let the door slam shut behind them.
They both stood drenched and panting, chests heaving from the effort. Once he could catch his breath, he gripped her chin. “Never scare me like that again.” He crushed his lips against hers, a warning, and a promise that they'd finish what they’d tried to start. Then he broke away. “Your life is worth more than a doll, and you jumped into the harbor—during a damn hurricane—like Bernadette was an actual child.” He hadn’t realized how angry he was until now. With himself for letting her get in harm’s way, and with her for being so reckless.
“Bernadette,” she said holding up the sopping wet doll, “is more than a doll, and you know it. It’s Mila’s memories, her friend, her comfort.” Her chin wobbled, and as it did, his throat constricted. Gemma’s words slammed into him, cutting off his breath and all he could do was stare at her with wide eyes. Mila had found a way into Gemma’s heart, and whether she knew it or not, he could tell she loved his little girl. He wrapped his arm around Gemma’s shoulders and led her to the elevator. The kitten had nestled into the curve of his elbow, and the steady retraction of its frail form reassured him. They’d keep the poor thing comfortable and safe until they could get it checked out by a veterinarian.
Once the elevator doors shut, Gemma looked up at him and touched his cheek. Her fingers were frigid and trembling. “I’m sorry I frightened you,” she whispered.
He shook his head. She'd been foolish running into the water like that, but he would've done the exact same thing for his daughter. Gemma was not only intelligent and sharp-minded, beautiful and bold, but she was valiant and brave. So much more then he'd given her credit for. All along, Zale had been expecting her to run back to Manhattan, but instead, she was running into the Atlantic to rescue his daughter's beloved doll. And yes, of course, it was so much more than just a doll.
As he opened the door to the apartment Mila rushed toward them, capturing the pair of them in a hug.
“I can’t believe it,” Mila cried. “You found them both. How did you do it?” She took the wet doll from Gemma, rose up on her tippy toes, and kissed her cheek. Then turned to him. “Daddy, the kitten. Will it be okay? I have tuna and milk and water all set up. And she can sleep in my bed.”
Zale had a feeling the cat was on its way to becoming a permanent resident in their home, and that was just fine after the morning they’d had. A child should have something to nurture and care for, to learn responsibility and compassion.
“Here.” Mila thrust a towel toward him. “This just came out of the dryer.” Zale took the warm towel and bundled it around the kitten. It let out a long purr and burrowed deeper into the fabric. “I think that’s just what she needed.” He smiled at Mila, Gemma, then his mother who stood with her hand over her heart and a big grin on her face.
He passed the swaddled kitten to his daughter and led Gemma to his bedroom, shut the door, and rustled through his closet for a thick winter robe. He found socks in his drawer and laid the clothes out on the bed. She was still shaking slightly. “I’m going to get a hot shower going for you, then you can put this on. I’ll get you something hot to drink.” When he was at the door to his ensuite, he turned to look at her. “Thank you for being brave enough to save my daughter’s treasure.” He left her to change and began brewing a pot of coffee. He’d just poured three mugs and fixed some chocolate milk for Mila when Gemma appeared. He liked the way she looked wearing his robe, and socks that probably came up to her knees. The four of them sat together on the living room floor, offering the kitten bits of turkey and tuna, which it greedily gobbled down.
“What will you call her?” He smiled down at Mila, who was rocking the kitten in her arms like a baby, and the feline was loving every moment of the coddling.
“Well…” Her eyes traveled over the cat’s mussed fur. It would eventually be white if they could get it cleaned up, with a black spot around its nose—if that wasn’t also dirt. “I think Esmerelda is quite fitting, don’t you?”
They all burst out in laughter, filling the room with warmth and joy.
Chapter 14
Gemma gl
anced out the window of Zale’s SUV, surveying the downed trees and debris from the storm. It was hard to believe it had been two days since the storm had raged over Martha's Vineyard. For a tropical storm, Esmerelda sure had packed a punch. In the last forty-eight-hours, Gemma had spent a lot of time with Zale, Mila, and their new addition, Esmerelda. The kitten was indeed living up to its name, getting into all sorts of delightful trouble. The damage from the storm had been superficial yet still burdensome, but things were quickly getting back to order, and tomorrow afternoon, she’d be on her way back to Manhattan. She wouldn’t dwell on it. No, she wanted to enjoy being with Zale as they moved his boat back to the marina.
Gemma wasn’t as nervous about the boat ride as she was about spending the afternoon alone with Zale. Of course, it wasn’t him she was fearful of, nor her desire to have him on an intimate level. It was the emotions swirling around her heart that left her knees buckling. They both had lives of their own. Had made a promise not to get attached. This was her big chance to impress the board with the idea of an affiliation with Carris Retreats. It might not be a full sale, but it would be good for the business, and maybe open doors to new affiliation projects with independent properties.
“What are you thinking?” The low rumble of Zale’s voice never failed to unhinge her.
He turned the wheel to the left, and into the temporary marina situated on the other side of the island.
“I was thinking that tomorrow afternoon, I leave for the city.” She eyed him over the center console, desperately searching for any reaction that would let her know is he was feeling despair at her departure. It was hard to stomach that she was the only one torn up inside. The only one whose stomach sank each time she looked at the suitcase in the corner of her room.
“You must be looking forward to returning. Getting your corner office.” The lack of bitterness in his tone had her glancing out the window, just long enough to conceal the flash of pain. Zale had made it clear when they returned from Bermuda that if they were going to see each other around the hotel, they needed to be discreet. Of course, she understood his desire to maintain a professional appearance, but she hated to feel like his dirty secret.
He gestured to the choppy ocean that panned out in front of him. “Ready?” Zale turned off the ignition, unbuckled his seatbelt, and got out of the driver’s side. He rounded the car and opened her door before she could do it herself. Taking the hand he offered, she slid to the ground, his large palm wrapped around her smaller one. How safe and secure his hand made her feel, like together they could do anything. Shaking off dreams that would never become reality, she took in the scene around her. It was a lovely sight, all of the polished yachts and colorful sailboats, rocking gently at their slips. The breeze flowed over her skin, carrying the briny scent of the water. Sunlight glittered off the waves, turning an ordinary seascape into a painter’s fantasy. One that would require a saturation of color to pass through the bristles of an artist’s brush, from the cadmium yellow sun to the phthalo blue water.
Gemma lowered her sunglasses with her free hand, shading her view as they walked down the boardwalk. They stopped at the fifth slip, and her eyes widened. She was surprised to see an actual sailing yacht opposed to a motorized boat. The fiberglass hull was long and curved, and on the side was scrolled Mermaid Mila. She could picture the little girl gripping the rails and leaning over the side so the wind tangled in her hair. The deck looked inviting, like you could sprawl out for hours in the sun. There appeared to be a door leading below deck, and she was eager to see what the inside of a boat actually looked like. She might have a lot of world travel under her belt, but all of it was done by air on the Dalton jet. It was exciting to experience something new.
A young dock attendant in a polo shirt ran up to greet them “Good morning, Mr. Carris. I’ll release your dock lines.”
Zale thanked him, then discreetly slipped him a tip. The teenager busied himself with the line at the back of the boat, while Zale boarded in one easy step. He held her hand down to her, and she gripped it tightly. Sucking in a breath and ignoring the way the boat tossed in the water, she let Zale pull her up.
“Relax, and I’ll get us moving,” Zale smiled, and like their picnic on the Great Lawn and so many times after, he tucked her wind-tossed hair behind her ear.
Within a few moments, they had motored out of the harbor, then Zale busied himself with the masts until the pure white sails billowed out.
“Is it difficult to sail when it’s not so windy?” She had chosen a soft, bench-like seat on the deck. So far, she didn’t feel seasick, thank goodness.
“You just need to understand the points of sail. Where the wind is coming from.” Zale returned to the helm and within moments they were moving at a quick clip.
She’d never forget the look of freedom on his face as he stood at the helm, feet planted wide, as they cut through the open water.
Wind rushed over her skin and tugged at her hair. Oh, she understood the liberation on Zale’s face. Water stretched out on either side of them as the boat skimmed over the tempestuous white caps. She breathed in the salt water mist and looked across the sound to long stretches of beach with the occasional New England cottage or waterfront mansion. When the sailboat slowed to a leisurely bob, she nearly asked Zale to keep going.
He grinned at her, looking every bit the dashing captain as he stood relaxed and self-assured. “We’ll get back on the open water, but first, I need to feed you. It’s past noon.” He moved to toss something in the water—an anchor perhaps.
“Noon,” she repeated, stunned that they’d been out on the water so long. “I was enjoying the sail so much, I didn’t realize that much time had passed.
“It suits you, being out on the water. I can tell you’re already at home here. Give me a moment, and I’ll be right back.” Zale left his position and the helm and went below deck, returning with a cooler.
Zale rowed them to shore in a small, inflated raft. It was hard to advert her eyes from his rippling arms bunched with muscle as he stroked the oars back and forth. He rowed them right up onto the shore of a secluded inlet beach.
In one swift motion, Zale spread a blanket over the sand and began unpacking the cooler. Her stomach flip-flopped. He had gone to a lot of trouble to arrange a nice afternoon. For her. Was the gesture really just about showing her the sights, or could it be he had deeper feelings for her? Ones they agreed not to feel? She glanced down to the lunch he’d set out: nectarine salad ripe with plump blueberries, tea sandwiches, and potato salad. Zale tipped a portable pitcher and poured two glasses of plum-colored liquid.
“Iced hibiscus tea,” he said passing the glass to her. “With ginger.”
She took a sip, the chilled tea leaving a refreshing taste on her tongue, and gazed at Zale over the rim of the glass. “This is lovely.” She offered him a confident smile even though her emotions were as turbulent as the rolling ocean. “Your guests must love taking picnic lunches out on their explorations.”
“That’s a nice concept.” He grinned and began preparing a plate with a bit of everything, handed it to her. “But the kitchen didn’t make this. I did.”
Her eyes widened. No one had gone to such trouble for her before. It would’ve been a nice gesture even if the hotel chef had prepared the meal, but to imagine Zale taking the time to chop fresh herbs, dice potatoes, and make the pretty little sandwiches thickened her throat. Zale was a good man. The fling they had was supposed to be enough, but it wasn’t. Not for her. Could their relationship ever be more? “I’m not sure what to say. Everything is beautiful. This place is such a secluded oasis and lunch is delicious. Thank you.”
“You act like no one’s made you lunch before.” Zale’s eyes softened as he studied her face.
“I’ve been taken to Michelin star restaurants around the world, but no one close to me has ever prepared something like this. You’ve opened my eyes to things about my childhood. Seeing how you are with Mila, well, it’s beautiful. It makes
me realize that the people in my family are a bit self-centered.”
“Well, I’m doubly grateful that I thought of it. Every child deserves to be nurtured and loved. I’m lucky I had one very good example of how a parent should be, but Gemma, just because you didn’t doesn’t mean you’re destined to be the same type of caregiver—or lack thereof.”
Heat rushed to Gemma’s cheeks. “I was more at home with my au pair and our butler. I rarely saw my parents, and when I did, it was always for some social engagement where I was expected to behave like a little lady. You have no idea how refreshing your home is. So cozy and relaxed. And Mila’s room is such a whirlwind of fun. You’ve done a wonderful job with her.”
“Thank you. That means a lot. Sometimes I feel like I’m floundering. Not spending enough time with her, working too often. I can do all those things once she grows up, but I know I’ll never be able to get this time back.” For a while they ate in silence, taking in the scenery—the playful ocean with tumbling waves to one side and a colorful spread of cosmos, black-eyed Susans, and lupines growing wild in the sandy soil to the other.
“May I ask you a question about Dalton?”
Gemma’s heart sank. The last thing she wanted to think of was leaving Zale. “Sure,” she said, spearing a nectarine with her fork a bit too forcefully.
“Do they recognize your worth?” He tilted his head, the sea at his back, and his eyebrows drawn together. Zale’s entire focus was pinned on her.
Gemma couldn’t control her quick intake of breath. She’d been so certain he’d ask about the affiliation, but instead he’d asked about her. She met his intense stare, and something warmed inside her. She wasn’t a quick path toward an affiliation with the world’s largest hotel brand. He cared about her.
She sighed and put down her plate. “Sometimes it feels as though I’m more of an inconvenience, at least with the executive board. I’m used to receiving a lot of eye rolls when I talk about social responsibility and our carbon footprint.” She laughed it off, but Zale’s expression was grim.
SEDUCTION AT THE STARGRASS Page 12
