by Jean Oram
Regrets.
He hated mornings after. He was about to see self-loathing and embarrassment in those blue eyes of hers. Or, more likely, disappointment in him instead of the standard thrill that shone in the eyes of others at having bagged a CEO. Nope, today was going to be a hard hit to his ego. A morning after to top all morning afters.
And he and Maya still had to work together.
“We did, yes.”
“Hmm.” Her face became a scrunched up version of barely awake. Her eyes cut to his and he knew exactly what had just struck her mind. A flood of pink crossed her cheeks and he traced the color with the pad of his finger.
“You’re blushing.”
She dipped her head and giggled. “Did we really almost…?” Her giggles turned to guffaws and he turned her over, needing to see her face in order to judge her reaction.
She was honestly amused by last night? How about that.
He laughed, letting her know she was safe with him. Always.
Connor wanted to kiss her. He didn’t want to revert back to their professional shells. At the same time, he hadn’t hired someone to be his girlfriend, and things could get awkward if she felt uncomfortable about their romp. And she was embarrassed.
Time for a distraction.
“So?” He tipped his chin toward the island across the water. “They gave you an offer?”
Maya’s expression changed to one of interest and hope. And that fiery passion he’d come to look forward to seeing. “They did. Not a great one, though.”
“Market value?”
“The island hasn’t been appraised, but I’m guessing it’s quite a bit below.”
“Hmm.”
“We may take it, though.”
“Why’s that?”
“We owe taxes.” She stood, shaking out her sleeping bag before briskly rolling it into a tight wad, her jaw clenched. “Hungry?”
“Yeah.” He rolled off the air mattress and onto his hands and knees. The bed had felt good. Connor gazed up the path. Would he make it? His head wasn’t sending out piercing signals as it had been last night, but he felt as though he’d slept in a desert with his mouth wide open despite downing a few bottles of water before sleep.
He licked his lips and tried to get some moisture to return. Good thing he hadn’t given Maya a good-morning kiss, or she’d think she’d been kissed by the dying.
He watched her long, trim legs as she moved. She was something else from head to toe, inside and out.
Maybe, with Maya as his goal, he really could pull his health together. In the meantime, he had the monumental task of holding her off. He again glanced up the dirt path to the cottage. As with anything worthwhile, the first few steps were always the hardest—as would be the hundred crunches and push-ups he planned on doing that day in order to bulk up again.
8
Every time Maya looked at Connor, her body reacted. To say her crush had returned would be similar to calling McDonald’s a small, family-owned burger stand. Now that she knew what his body could do to hers—with only his hands and mouth when he was dead tired—she was raring to go. All the time. She needed to find out what he was capable of when he wasn’t hammered and about to pass out. But most of all, she needed to find out how he felt to make love to.
Moving across the kitchen as though he owned it, Connor laid a hand just below her waist and leaned across her, grabbing the saltshaker off the back of the stove. He looked at her, a hint of something in his expression, and her body and yelled, “Charge!”
She willed the reaction to fade so she could return to the business of making breakfast and being his not-quite-so-personal assistant—she needed a reference from him, not love.
Love? This stupid cottage was getting to her. Anything between them was a temporary sexual affair and nothing more. It definitely wasn’t the whole “fall in love on Nymph Island” thing that had been happening in her family for generations, starting with their great-grandmother who had been gifted the cottage by a secret admirer. Neither she nor Connor had the time or desire to do anything as stupid as fall in love. They had goals. Walking down the aisle was not on the horizon. Getting him to bend her backward in a passionate kiss? That could be.
No, a reference. That’s what she wanted, not for things to get complicated, and sexual encounters always wound up that way.
Oh, my. He kept coming closer to get items. If he brushed against her one more time she was liable to push him down on the floor, pour pancake syrup over him and then lick every inch of him clean.
“How are you feeling this morning?” she asked, after clearing her throat.
“Thirsty as a camel in the desert.”
“Is that a lot?”
“I imagine so.”
She passed him the jug of orange juice from the fridge as they continued to work to the sound of the generator chugging away, making scrambled eggs and her mother’s waffle recipe from scratch. Maya stirred the eggs and bit her bottom lip. Maybe if Connor was in a good mood she could convince him to dig deeper into the entrepreneur’s proposal with her, because her gut was telling her it was something that could make Connor more money than a lumberyard, as well as change lives. And if she made him money, she might just get a tad of it, too—or at least a steady job.
“All ready?” He reached across her, taking the stack of waffles. She inhaled when his arm brushed her chest.
“All set,” she squeaked, joining him outside. It was going to kill her going back to “just colleagues.”
“Ever miss eating outside when you go home?” he asked, taking his seat.
“Maybe I eat outside at home.” She winked at him and dished herself two waffles.
“Nah. You don’t.”
“How’d you know?”
“Too time-consuming. You’re all about reaching your goals. Eating outside is a luxury that doesn’t pay out dividends.”
Maya laughed. “Am I that obvious?”
He nodded, scooping eggs into his mouth. “Only because I think a lot like you do.”
“Yeah?” She leaned forward, eager to hear what he had to say.
“Yeah. But you need to learn to chill.”
“Hey, wasn’t I watching the stars last night?”
“Yes, and you were drunk.” He shot her a grin, taking her in with his gaze, consuming her in a way that made her want to drag him in her bedroom. Nobody had ever quite looked at her like that and she found she enjoyed it.
“Your point being?”
“Want to hike around the island with me today?”
“I have work to do.”
“Oh, work.” He shook his head mockingly, as though she was making a big deal about trivial things, not keeping his butt out of hot water.
“It’s your work.”
“And I say cut out for a bit and take a hike.”
“There’s a lot to do, Connor. And I really don’t think I should slack off or things will pile up.”
“It’ll still be there. It’ll always be there. You never get to the end of the pile. Trust me. I’m on vacation, and as the island’s guest, I demand you guide me so I don’t get lost.”
“It’s a small island.”
“Chicken?”
“Why would I be chicken?” She pushed back from the table, her chair legs scraping the veranda floor.
“I think I see a yellow belly.”
Maya stood. “Connor, it’s not funny. I have a dream and it’s not to be someone’s paid slave for the rest of my life. You said this is a job interview, and I’m taking it seriously. I want to be able to do things such as pay Nymph Island’s taxes, own a penthouse in Toronto and get a real job that invigorates me.”
“This work doesn’t invigorate you?” He leaned back, crossing his arms, daring her.
“No.” She braced her palms on the table. “Would checking emails all day invigorate you?”
“A penthouse isn’t everything,” he said quietly.
His tone suggested he’d lost something. Maya gav
e herself a shake. The man had everything and he was acting as though he was missing some stupid little thing such as picnics in the park.
“Invite some friends over if you’re lonely in your big fancy penthouse.”
“Who said I was lonely?” They stared at each other for a moment. “And friends I’ve met where, exactly?”
“Functions, work, the gym.”
“Maya, to be the king means making sacrifices. Have you considered the fact that your life—this dream of yours—might land you in the same pile of poo I’m living in?”
“I know, balance and all that.” She crossed her own arms and jerked her chin. “And can I just say, some pile of poo.”
“Do you know balance, Maya? Do you really?” He placed his hands flat on the table. “Because I think you don’t.”
“More than you do.”
“Then as your boss, I ask that you prove that by teaching it to me.”
“What? Don’t go pulling the boss card on me! We’re―we’re…” She wanted to say “equals,” but that wasn’t entirely true. Not even on a personal level. He hadn’t allowed her to touch him last night. She thought he’d been more concerned about her pleasure, but now she wondered if it was more about control.
Why was she even thinking about last night? This was about work. And he was her boss.
It was all so infuriating.
Connor stood up in turn, so close she had to step back so she wouldn’t kiss him and forget her anger. He said in a low voice, his breath tickling her neck, “Then come for a hike. One walk won’t determine your whole destiny.”
She had a feeling that he was very wrong, and that a hike could indeed determine her destiny. She just wasn’t sure how.
Maya put her hands on her hips and watched Connor finish slathering sunscreen across the bridge of his nose. Grinning, he reached out and dabbed a drop on hers.
“Don’t get a burn,” he chirped.
“It’s not even 9:00 a.m.”
“Smile, Maya. This is fun.”
“What’s with the sunny disposition?”
“What? Can’t a guy be cheerful?”
“You’re up to something.”
His grin grew even wider. “Nope.”
She rubbed in the sunscreen and hoped this stupid hike around the island would be worth the time away from work. Connor had an incredible amount of email come in every hour, and it was up to her to cull that pile, not go stomping around in the bush. She hadn’t slept well on the dock, and wanted to do things with Connor that, in the light of the day, weren’t exactly appropriate, seeing how much power he held. And not just as her boss.
“Ready?” she asked.
Connor did a quick bend to touch his toes, then straightened. “Ready.”
“You sure you can handle a hike? There are some steep slopes and loose rocks. The path is barely visible.” She eyed him closely. A few days in Muskoka were making a difference, but she could tell the man was still not quite himself.
“Trust me. I grew up outdoors.”
“Um-hmm.” Sure he had. If the outdoors was shown on a television screen.
“I was in Boy Scouts.” He leaned closer. “And Beavers, too, you know.”
“Big deal. Wasn’t everyone?” She mimicked his pose, loving the way his eyes twinkled in challenge. “I was a Brownie and a Girl Guide.”
“I’m sure you were.” His gaze roamed over her figure in a way that made her want to tug him down on top of the sun-warmed rocks and let him earn a badge or two.
He was dying. There was no other way to express what this hike was doing to Connor and his body. His lungs burned as though he’d inhaled acid. His legs had lost feeling and he was stumbling along, staring at Maya’s perfect posterior, to keep him placing one foot in front of the other so he wouldn’t lose the view.
How could one island be so big? Why hadn’t he brought water? Or a hat? They had to have been hiking for at least an hour.
“Almost there!” Maya called back in a singsong voice.
Connor fumbled on the rocks, reaching out to catch himself on a nearby branch. The sapling bent under his weight and he went down in a sweaty heap behind Maya, who was skipping up the rocks like a mountain goat.
“View’s great!” she said, shielding her eyes. “Over there behind that island is the inlet to the Indian River.”
Yeah, his view from the blueberry bush that had broken his fall was great, too. He could eat berries and stare up at Maya’s figure until he passed out.
Maya turned, a silhouette against the glaring sun. She scrambled down to him. “Are you okay?”
“Of course.” He popped a berry toward his mouth and missed. “Just getting some antioxidants.”
She tugged him out of the bush. “Wait until you see this view across the lake. You’ll love it. Totally different from the top of the hill over there.” She pointed behind them, and he studied the terrain. What in blue blazes? That had been downhill? This hike was starting to feel similar to his life: even downhill felt uphill.
He groaned, his quads leaden. He trudged the last few feet to where Maya stood waiting. The breeze brushed against his hot skin, and he thought about walking down to the water for a dip, clothes and all.
He fell onto his butt and loosely hugged his legs, trying not to wheeze as he stared out at the dark blue water.
“Another ten minutes that way, and there’s a nice view of Windermere if you’ve got 20/20 vision.”
“How long did we hike?”
Maya shrugged. “About ten to fifteen minutes.”
“That all?”
“I know, it goes fast, doesn’t it? Suddenly it’s like—boom!—middle of nowhere.”
He glanced at the broad expanses of rocks, trees, and water surrounding him. Middle of nowhere. Panic seeped into his soul and he fought the hit of adrenaline that urged him to run back to the cottage so he could check his email. Check his voice mail. Anything to prove he was still part of Toronto. That he existed and was still alive and needed. That he hadn’t been completely forgotten. It was already Thursday. He hadn’t been unplugged this long since before he started the company.
“You’ve been checking my email, right?”
Maya laughed. “Feels disconnected up here, eh?”
He gave a brief nod. He was tempted to take his sticking shirt off, but wanted to be more buff for Maya. Even if he felt dead after the hike, he decided he was going do some exercises to help build his muscles again. He had all day to fit them in, and would do them one at a time. On the island there was nothing but time, and a body that wasn’t doing his life justice. He should be a hot bachelor, not a defective, useless old man.
“And yes.” She leaned closer and laid a hand on his forearm. “I’ve been checking your email.”
“Good.”
“Nothing pressing so far. Just a great opportunity to become a venture capitalist.”
Some of the tension within him shook loose, knowing Maya was on top of things. He tried for a smile, which felt awkward. Add smiling to the self-improvement list. Connor tipped his head back, allowing more of his skin access to the sun’s vitamin D.
Wait, did she say venture capitalist? That sounded sexy. Powerful.
No, don’t bite the bait. She was fishing. He wasn’t a dumb fish.
Right.
He peeked at Maya. Her fitted red shirt showcased her narrow waist, and she was gazing down at him with… That look again.
“Don’t stare at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“All passionate and full of fire.”
She was laughing, thinking he was joking.
“Anyway, I already told you. I don’t do that kind of stuff.”
“I was doing some research on funding entrepreneurs—”
“Dragons’ Den?”
“Well, no…but yes, kind of.” She sat next to him, hugging her legs. “Their product could change the world, Connor. They could help children.” She pivoted to him, her knee pushing into the side o
f his leg, and an ember flickered to life within him. He wanted to fan that ember into something that roared and consumed his soul.
He watched her expression, willing himself to hear her out, but not get involved. She needed this and he could handle it. It wasn’t work, it was listening to someone else’s dreams. He was being a mentor. That’s all she wanted from him, and he could be that person. Truthfully, he’d mentor her any way he could just to keep her close.
“They have a product in a niche that has very little competition, and their device could become the standard in cleft palate surgery for children. Less pain. Faster healing times.”
“If it is such a narrow niche, how do you assess the market? How do you know this invention will do all they promised? Has it been through clinical trials?”
“Investing in niches is always a risk.” She pushed the tips of her fingers into his bare knee as she said “risk” and he felt the ember flare into something larger. Was it her, or was it work-related? And were the two inseparable? “But the payoff could be huge—and not just financially.”
“And?” he asked, hating the way he was being sucked in, and yet he couldn’t push the topic away to save himself.
“For forty thousand you could either win huge and change lives, or go home.”
“Broke.”
“Um, sort of. But only if we got scooped.”
“Scooped?”
“There’s no patent filed.”
“No patent? What kind of hooligans are you dealing with?”
“This is why they need you.”
“I’m not a babysitter. But seriously? No patent?” Something in his chest fizzed, and he closed his eyes to regain control of his reactions. You didn’t sit on a great invention and start shopping it around without a patent. How amateur were they?
“They’re working on it. They’re doctors. This device is less clunky than what everyone’s currently working with. They know what they need, but they require assistance getting there. And fast. You could help them. I know it.”
“I don’t have that kind of time.”
“I do.”
“For a cut?”
“Naturally.”
