by Jean Oram
Maya had come to know that look. It meant she was facing another evening tweeting distribution system jokes to Steve from Roundhouse Exports, or else watching Dragons’ Den reruns she’d saved to her hard drive. Not so bad. Except the way Connor had revved her up meant she’d be spending special time with her vibrator, since he and his delicious mouth would be snoring only one bedroom away. She lifted her head to the sky and whispered, “Destiny, you are one mean woman.”
It didn’t help that the way Connor had rescued Tigger was a total turn-on. She’d never realized it, but apparently she had a thing for heroes. Every time she thought of him dashing off to save her niece, an unrelenting heat spread through her.
Maya made her way into the cottage and sat down with All In by Arlene Dickinson. While she read, she kept Connor’s closed bedroom door in her peripheral vision. She could swear he was snoring already.
She sighed and flipped a page, wishing she had the courage to wake him up by slipping under his covers wearing nothing but her loneliness and longing.
Her cell phone rang and she jumped up, crossing the room in a few strides. What the heck? She never got reception in the cottage.
“What’s this?” a male voice replied when she answered.
“Um? Who is this?”
“James Culver. Connor’s advisor. And I demand you tell me what this memo is about!”
“Oh! Right. Sorry.” The phone got scratchy and she froze, not daring to move in case she lost the connection. “Connor is considering backing these entrepreneurs. It’s all explained in the memo. I sent it to you, Bill, Em, and Stella so you’d be in the loop. A contract is in draft with Legal. I’m taking care of it all so you and your assistants don’t have to worry about it.”
“Worry about it? Are you kidding me? You’re gambling away Connor’s money on some dental device and you’ve been working here how many days? Some of us work really hard to make sure Connor makes money, not loses it. We get pestered like this all the time by people who would love to suck him dry. You need to drop this idea.”
“Connor gave it the okay.”
“Connor’s on vacation and not making major decisions right now. I’m the one he left in charge of the office, and I say no. This agreement happened under my watch, and you not asking me first sets a precedent that I will be dealing with long after you’re gone.”
“Um, what kind of precedent?” She glanced at Connor’s closed door.
“Word is going to get out that anyone with a half-baked idea can come to us for money and support. We’ll never be able to do any real work—work that makes us a profit.”
“And buying a lumberyard is going to do that?”
“And turning to venture capitalism is?”
“Uh, yeah. It is.” She placed a hand on her hip. “I don’t understand why you’re getting in such a flap over me advising Connor on something out of character, when you seem to have done the same thing yourself. Except I’m only gambling 40K and you’re gambling well over ten times that amount. My project could pay off big. And I fail to see how yours could.”
“I have a lot of experience and know what I am doing.” His voice trembled with anger.
“I sure hope so, because I like Mr. MacKenzie.”
“Oh, so that’s what this is about? You want to play house with the boss?”
Maya made sputtering sounds. “Wow. Just wow.”
“Do your job and stay out of my way.”
“Consider it my pleasure,” she said, hanging up.
She set her phone down, letting out a slow, long breath.
“You’ve met James?” Connor said, leaning against the doorjamb to his room, arms crossed.
“I have had the unfortunate pleasure of landing on his bad side, yes.”
And this was the moment when she lost her job for not getting along with his team. Crap. She was actually starting to enjoy the work.
“You handled yourself well.”
“Thank you.” Maya stiffened her spine, not daring to let her relief show.
“I’d even say you got the upper hand.” Connor pushed off the doorjamb, wincing.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, just a sore shoulder.” He flashed a brief smile, but gave her a wide berth as he hurried past her into the kitchen.
She followed, giving his butt a slap as he dug around in the fridge for a snack. He straightened, banging his head on the freezer above.
“Ow!”
“I am so sorry!” Maya laid a hand on his head where he’d bumped it, but he slipped away, avoiding her touch. She nudged her chest against him, offering herself, but he dodged her again, clutching his skull in a way that told her he was faking most of the pain.
Hurt seared her soul and she backed against the counter, letting him grab a peach before stalking out of the kitchen.
What was his problem? Whenever she got close, he ran away.
Maya bit her bottom lip. He didn’t want something with her, fine. But she didn’t want “something,” either. She wanted one thing. Him. Okay, two things. Him and a job reference.
Maya stood on the dock, the morning sunshine streaming down on her. There was something new and renewed about Connor today. Something she couldn’t quite figure out. He would dance near, then close up and move away. But it wasn’t just that. There was a purpose and drive flaring in his eyes that made her own heart beat a little faster in anticipation. It was as though he had his own secret project he was working on, and it made her curious. She wanted to help him and be a part of it, but she knew she had to be patient. Then maybe, just maybe, he’d let her in.
Connor hauled himself out of the lake, panting, as water streamed off his broad shoulders. Maya held out a towel and stopped herself from staring at the way his muscles bunched when he raised it to scrub at his dripping hair. His haircut was just past neat and tidy, and starting to look slightly shaggy. She adored how it made him appear less serious.
“Good swim?” she asked.
“Yup.”
“Go across and back?”
“Yup.”
“Still don’t want to come with me to meet the entrepreneurs?”
“Nope.”
“You are a man of many words this morning.”
“Yup.”
Sighing, Maya shifted her weight and toyed with the boat’s key chain which was made of foam so it would float if accidentally dropped in the water. “I could use your help, you know.”
“You said you had it covered.”
“I do, but it would be nice to have you along.”
“Dress to kill. It’s sexist and horrible, but men like a sweet tush. It’s a weakness of ours. And remember to listen.”
“I’m a good listener.”
“I wasn’t done,” he said, his tone slightly sharp.
“Sorry. You had more wardrobe tips for me? Maybe regarding how many buttons I leave undone?”
He shook the last of the water out of his hair with a grin, catching himself on a chair as he lost his balance. He toweled off his torso and sat down.
“Well?” she asked.
“Patience, Maya.”
“I have to leave soon if I’m going to make it on time.”
He peeked out from behind the towel as he patted his brow. “Are you driving?”
“Um, yeah. That’s what people who aren’t you do.”
He gazed off into middle distance. “Okay. Long story short?”
“Preferably.”
“You already act as if you own the place, and I know you won’t let them blow sunshine up your tush.”
“Sweet tush, I believe you called it?”
“Fine, blow sunshine up your sweet tush.” He reached over and gave her a light slap on the closest butt cheek. “You can file the sexual harassment suit later.”
“You wish.” She gave him a wink and he grinned again.
“Basically, go into any meeting assuming the other person is trying to get the better deal.”
Maya sighed. Could he get any
more basic?
“Be patient, Maya.”
She licked her lips and tried to act as though she wasn’t insulted by him wasting her time with trivialities.
“People will tell you anything. You have to check their facts. Don’t take anything at face value. Ask questions most folks would be too uncomfortable asking. Repeat yourself if you have to.”
“Got it.”
“Listen. Pause. Reflect.”
Maya nodded. “Listen, pause, reflect.” She should probably add connect in there, too, seeing as it seemed to be a point of weakness with her usual tactics.
“Circle back if you have to. Take notes. Act like a lawyer ready to catch them lying. They wouldn’t come to you if they could do this on their own. What can you offer that they haven’t been able to accomplish? But most importantly, what can they bring you? It has to be mutually beneficial.” He banged a fist on his open palm for emphasis. “What are your odds of success? And above all, they need to be a ton more invested than you ever will be if you’re backing them financially.”
“Right. Okay.” This was the stuff she’d been waiting for. Now why wouldn’t he come with her and help sort through it all, making certain she didn’t miss any cues or hints about problems that could bite her in the butt later? “Sure you don’t want to come and hash it all out afterward? Draw the agreement over the coals?” That would be so much fun.
He leaned closer, his expression full of haunting shadows. “Business isn’t just theory, instincts or snap gut decisions, or even research. It’s more than that, Maya.”
He stared at her for a moment, and shivers ran down her spine. The wrong kind of shivers.
“Can you do this?” he asked.
She nodded and took a gulp of air.
“Good.” He sat back, his face softening, the shadows gone.
“What do you love most about this business?” she asked quietly. “The chase? The catch?”
The shadows returned. “Ask them about their lives. Break the ice. See if they have kids.”
“Kids?” She didn’t want to talk sippy cups, she wanted to talk turkey.
“It’ll reveal their core to you. Who they are. As well as how distracted they are from their own work.”
“You prefer to deal with people without kids?”
“I didn’t say that. Just keep your eyes and ears open, as there are hints as to who they are in everything they do and say. Then wait at least two to three days before giving them a decision.”
“That sounds like a dating rule—don’t call for three days after getting their number.”
“Business is a form of dating, Maya.”
She opened her mouth to ask what the two of them were doing, then closed it again. She had a meeting to attend. Connor would reveal himself in time. All she had to do was figure out how to be patient.
Connor rolled over to check the clock, his abs killing him. Only nine at night. He slung an arm across his eyes and wondered if it was a raccoon or Maya he’d just heard. He was guessing Maya. Either that or a really steamed thief.
He smiled, thinking of a robber coming in here. Other than the ancient furniture, which might actually be worth something on the antiques market if it hadn’t been so well used, the place didn’t have much of value other than Maya’s laptop and printer. And even the printer was probably some thirty-dollar loss leader from the local computer shop.
He considered getting up to find out why she was in foul mood, but thought better of it. If her appointment with the entrepreneurs hadn’t gone well he could deal with waiting until she’d cooled down, since the long drive obviously hadn’t worked.
Thinking of Maya, he smiled and curled onto his side, lulled back into near sleep by the bed’s warm comfort. The door banged open; the scent of coffee filled his nostrils.
“You work with a bunch of pompous, pig-headed, close-minded gorillas who wouldn’t know their bellybutton from their brain,” Maya announced, plunking a cup on his bedstand.
“Coffee? It’s nine at night.”
“Nine in the morning.”
“Well, then. Good morning, sweet cheeks.” He flipped himself over to flick up the shades, trying to hide his morning wood. He glanced down and sighed. Still nothing to hide. How much sleep did a man need?
“It’s almost afternoon,” Maya grumbled.
“Great.” He squinted as light bleached the room. “I’m supposed to sleep.”
“Says who?”
“I’m on vacation. That’s what people do when they are on vacation.”
“Right. Well, your advisor, James? He tried to fire me yesterday.”
Connor winced as the coffee scorched his tongue. “Do I want to know why?”
“I went by to get more files on the sawmill and he told me to butt out.”
“I thought you were meeting the entrepreneurs?”
“Oh, yeah.” She sat on the bed beside him, the anger dissolving. “They were great. I think I’m going to go with them.”
“Wait a few days,” he warned. She was so impatient. She listened to her gut only long enough to get the first few chords of the song, then floored the engine, ignoring the rest of the tune. Every time. He needed to teach this girl to slow down before she floored it into a brick wall, as he had.
“I’ll wait.” She sounded reluctant.
“Good. I’m holding you to that.”
He stood to leave his room, then turned back to Maya, who had her wavy hair pinned up in a way that made it look messy, elegant and sexy all at the same time. He was finding it difficult to keep fighting the urge to kiss her.
He pinched the bridge of his nose and focused on what had made her angry. “Why exactly does James have a problem with you?”
She shrugged. “I ask too many questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“My usual nosy ones.” She gave him a smile. “You’re not mad, are you?”
“For asking questions? No, not really.” But the effect of those questions was intriguing. James, like anyone, became edgy when stressed, and Connor could see how Maya’s inquisitiveness could get under the man’s skin. He used to do the same to James eons ago, when they’d first started working together. But he’d thought James had mellowed. Was leaving the company in his hands too much for his advisor?
Connor gave Maya a reassuring tap on the elbow. “James is carrying a heavy load right now. More so with me gone, so don’t take it personally. I turn into a supreme prick who wants things done five minutes ago, and for everything to be lined up so I can fire through them like a sergeant major general when I’m busy. It’s normal.” The familiar tightness associated with work expanded in his chest, which he rubbed with the heel of his hand. He gave a light laugh. “I should ask him if he wants to take over some of my projects.”
Connor considered the idea, blocking out Maya’s flabbergasted protests. James dealing with all the details he had to shovel through on a daily basis had unusual appeal. Could Connor walk away from the entire company, and not just his projects? He had enough to retire on, and James had enough to buy him out, as well as a deep desire to be king of the hill.
If Connor wanted to keep his foot in the game he could do some consulting here and there. Or just drift off into the sunset. Living in Muskoka, he wouldn’t need a lot of money once he had a roof over his head, and the sale of his penthouse in Toronto would surely cover the cost of a nice year-rounder out here. He knew other businessmen who’d done it, such as Tristen Bell, formerly a die-hard real estate mogul. They’d done a few deals together and come out laughing. Then Tristen had suddenly pulled up stakes and vanished. Rumor was he was in the area. If Tristen had enough to pull out, then so did Connor.
He interrupted Maya’s continuing argument about his life, his business and how he couldn’t ditch it. “Could I get a ride into Port Carling sometime? I want to look up someone.”
“You can’t retire. You can’t give it up. You’re at the top of your game.”
“And why not? I�
��ve delayed my own gratification for too long.” He let out a laugh, deepening it as Maya’s expression turned from one of agitation to one of fear for his sanity. He placed a gentle kiss on her nose. “You need to lighten up, Maya.”
Sipping his coffee, he headed outside to his favorite place on Nymph Island—the hammock. When he’d first started his business, during university, his satisfaction had come from making it into the big leagues. As the years went on, he kept telling himself that when he finished the next deal, made the next million, he’d take a break and join the jet set life he’d always dreamed of having. But he’d never given himself that gratification, and never allowed himself true vacations for fear of losing his position on the totem pole. He hadn’t even gone to Italy to enjoy Barber of Seville in an old opera house.
So why not now? Why not cut out and enjoy what he’d earned? He was never going to do it if he stayed at CME. There would always been one more thing popping up as an emergency, changing his plans. This, out here in Muskoka, was real life. The life he’d been missing.
11
Connor shook Tristen Bell’s hand and pulled him close enough to slap his back in a friendly man-hug, getting a warning growl from the massive Bernese mountain dog sitting at his friend’s feet.
“Don’t mind him. Maxwell Richards III is a friendly old coot,” said Tristen.
“Quite the name.” Connor gave the dog a scratch behind the ears and, seemingly satisfied, the big animal wandered off to collapse in the shade of a large maple.
“He came with it.”
Connor sized up the former real estate tycoon. He was trim and fit, his hair a bit longer than the sharp-edged Bay Street image Connor was used to. In fact, Tristen had adopted somewhat of a casual, woodsy style.
“You look ten years younger than when I last saw you in Toronto. Are you doing some hot young thing?” Connor’s attention moved to the large, renovated cottage sitting behind him. “They’ve got to be crawling all over you.”
