His by Christmas

by Teresa Southwick

  She decided to hang here for a sign that he was going inside or was somehow distracted. Her hair was pulled into a knot on top of her head to keep it out of her face and she blinked the water from her eyes. Smiling brightly she said, “That was so refreshing.”

  “I can imagine.” There was envy in his tone.

  “Swimming will be good exercise for you when that cast comes off. It will build up the atrophied muscles in your calf.”

  “Wow, that sounds so attractive.”

  “Don’t worry. It won’t take long before you’ll be back to impressing the ladies with your manly legs.”

  He laughed. “That will be an improvement since I never impressed anyone with them before.”

  Although she wasn’t going to correct him, that wasn’t completely true. He wore shorts every day—to accommodate the cast on his lower leg, but also for the tropical climate. Along with the cotton flowered shirts, the look suited him. Justine liked his legs, muscular with a masculine dusting of hair. Even what she could see of the injured one looked good. Strong thighs. Unlike her, no one would stare at him because he was different, unattractive.

  “It won’t take long to get back in shape. The cast will be gone and you’ll be off and running again before you know it.”

  “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  A breeze blew over her wet shoulders and made her shiver. Time was not flying nearly fast enough for her. There was no sign that he was going inside, so she needed a distraction and went with the best one she could think of.

  “Is that your cell phone?”

  “What?”

  “I thought I heard your ringtone,” she said.

  He felt his shirt pocket. “Damn, I left it inside. Stupid since I’ve been waiting for a call from my attorney. His timing stinks.”

  The lie wasn’t without consequences. Justine felt guilty and would have to live with it. She watched him stand, gracefully prop the crutches under his arms, then propel himself to the doorway. He was getting really good on them, a sign of his athleticism. As soon as he was inside she hauled herself out of the pool, grabbed the towel and quickly dried off. She was just tying the sarong around her waist when he came back outside.

  “No one called.”

  “Sorry. Must have been water in my ears. Or the wind rustling the palm trees.” She walked closer. Now that her leg was covered by the floor-length, flowered material, her confidence was properly back in place. “It’s a pretty night, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah.” He looked up.

  “Without the nuisance light, the moon and stars are spectacular. And that’s not a yoga thing. Just a fact.”

  “I’m aware.”

  Justine had been staring up at the sky, but the hoarse, slightly ragged edge to his voice drew her gaze back to his. There was a tense and hungry expression on his face, exactly the way he’d looked at her when she’d demonstrated her stretching technique.

  Instantly her heart started racing as if she’d set an Olympic record in the one-hundred-meter freestyle. Her body had been so cold a few minutes ago and she’d been desperate enough to lie in order to get out of the pool. Now she was hot all over and the last thing she wanted was to move away from him.

  Cal cleared his throat. “I’m going to try to get my attorney on the phone. It’s still business hours in the States.”

  “Right.”

  A muscle in his jaw jerked as if he was clenching his teeth, and the tension in his eyes looked very near the snapping point. “I’ll say good-night.”

  “Okay. See you in the morning.”

  Without another word he turned and went back into his suite, shutting the door behind him.

  Justine stood there, thought about what just happened and waited for the wave of shame to pull her down because she’d felt something for another man. Recognizing survivor’s guilt for being alive when her husband and child weren’t didn’t mean it would magically go away. She’d struggled with it for a while, even when everyone told her she had to go on living. That if she could change what happened she would. That her husband and child would want her to move forward and not live in the past.

  Tonight, with Cal, she had her aha moment. She knew what they meant. It had been a long time since she’d thought about sex, but the way Cal looked at her changed that. He made her realize she had physical needs. So, why now? Why him?

  He was her boss. Which just proved that fate had a warped sense of humor.

  Chapter Six

  So now he’d seen Justine Walker in a bathing suit. The problem was, what he hadn’t seen kept him awake last night.

  Cal was sitting on the large sofa with his leg propped up and his computer in his lap. From here he could watch her at the desk—reading email, going over cost projections and reports. There was the cutest expression on her face, the one he knew meant she was concentrating. So was he, but it had nothing to do with work.

  A time or two she’d caught him watching her, and color rose in her cheeks. Did that mean she could read his mind? Because the fact was, he would really like to see her in a bathing suit. Technically he had but she’d been in the water and that blurred everything. And he wouldn’t turn down the opportunity to get a look at her without that thing she put on as soon as she got out of the pool. That’s not to say what he had seen wasn’t top-notch. She had toned arms and a trim waist, but maybe he was an all-or-nothing kind of guy.

  He wanted to see all of her and couldn’t get the thought out of his mind. So he couldn’t focus on much of anything except sliding those loose, gauzy pants off to find out if her body was as spectacular as he suspected. Just like that he was the sultan of slime and he wasn’t proud of it. Enough. Time to get his mind back on work, and talking about it would be better than looking at a computer screen. That made it too easy for his mind to wander.

  “What are you reading?” he asked.

  Justine glanced up and met his gaze over her laptop. “A report on renewable energy from Las Vegas.”

  “And?”

  “The city government is drawing one hundred percent of its power from renewable energy sources to run everything from city hall to parks, community centers and even streetlights.”

  “Impressive.”

  “Solar generates the energy to power on-site facilities with tree-shaped solar panels, solar shade canopies at city parks and solar arrays on rooftops.”

  “I’m guessing that because of its size the city can’t get all the necessary power from on-site sources.”

  “You’d be correct.” She removed her glasses and set them on the desk. “But the shift to renewable resulted in significant savings.”

  “Hmm.” He nodded thoughtfully. “I’m going to talk to Mayor McKnight about doing that in Blackwater Lake.”

  “I haven’t met the mayor. What do you think the chances are that she’ll be receptive?” Justine asked.

  “She’s open-minded, so I think there’s a fair shot. But she’s a formidable woman.” Not unlike the one in front of him. “There was a fire this summer that caused widespread evacuations. It was just before I moved into my condo, so I wasn’t there yet. But my brother Sam said that in addition to coordinating state and local firefighting resources, Madam Mayor made sure everyone was housed with a family in a home and not in the high school gym.”

  “Wow.”

  “In fact, she’s responsible for Sam getting together with Faith Connelly.”

  “Oh?”

  “Sam has a big house. Faith and her daughter, Phoebe, needed someplace to go. Mayor Loretta gave him a little push, and while living under the same roof, the two of them fell victim to their tender emotions.”

  “Be still my heart. So what’s the moral of the story?” she asked.

  “What makes you think there is one?”

  �
��You’re so relationship-averse that you can’t even say the word love. So there must be a cautionary tale in there somewhere.”

  “Did you just call me the love Grinch?” He closed his laptop. “And did you notice how I just said the word there?”

  “No one will ever accuse you of being Cupid.” She smiled. “And yes, I noticed.”

  “Okay. Fair enough.”

  “But, if you think about it—” she tapped her lip “—it’s not an evacuation, but you and I are living under the same roof.”

  “For three more weeks,” he pointed out. There was a time limit and that made it different somehow.

  “How long did it take for Sam and Faith to fall for each other?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “So, it could have been an hour? A day? A week?” She met his gaze. “Or a month?”

  When had this conversation gone from him relating a pleasant anecdote to an inquisition? “What’s your point?”

  “I don’t actually have one. It’s just fun to watch when you start to sweat. And for the record, it’s remarkably easy to push your buttons and make that happen.” She also closed her laptop, then stood and started to do her stretching.

  Cal forced his gaze away from the seductive sight and held in a groan. Just like that he did, in fact, start to sweat, proving that Miss Prim and Proper was right about him being easy. But no way was she right about close proximity turning a man and woman into a couple. The only couple he recognized was him and work.

  And Justine worked for him. No matter how beautiful and intriguing she happened to be, he was her boss. Sure, he’d been preoccupied with her. But he broke his leg—there was nothing wrong with his eyesight. Noticing that a woman was pretty, shapely and sexy was hardwired into him. But he knew where the line was drawn. His R-rated thoughts would be an issue only if he crossed it. He’d had a chance to fire her and wasn’t sure whether or not he was sorry he hadn’t.

  “We haven’t finished discussing the list of activities I came up with for you.” Her statement came out of the blue.

  “What?”

  “Yesterday you challenged me to come up with a list of things someone in a cast could participate in. Without a wheelchair. Remember?”

  “Vividly. Especially the part where you tried to abandon me on the beach.”

  “You’re so dramatic.”

  “And you want to discuss it in more detail,” he guessed.

  “Actually, no. Because that would be your cue to push back and find something wrong with each and every one of them.”

  “You’re implying that I don’t have an open mind?” he accused her.

  “Implying is too vague. I’m flat-out saying that you refuse to even consider any leisure interest in which your safety wouldn’t be jeopardized. And no one who has a lick of sense would let a man with a cast on his leg go wave riding. Which leaves the matter of alternatives.”

  He smiled because she had him dead to rights. “You must have me mixed up with the vacation Grinch.”

  “My mistake.” There was a knock on the door and she said, “That must be lunch.”

  Sometime in the week that she’d been here, Cal had let her take over deciding on the menu, and so far her choices had been perfect. Also, sometime since her splashdown in his life, annoyance at the work interruption had turned into anticipation at the prospect of sharing the meal with her and wondering what she would say next.

  The room service waiters set up everything at the dining room table and Justine signed the check. With the ever-popular let-us-know-if-you-need-further-assistance, they quietly left the villa. Cal crutched himself over and sat down.

  “Smells good,” he said, realizing he was hungry.

  “I hope you like it. I was assured that this is a signature dish for the chef.”

  He lifted the silver dome over his plate and the smells got even better. “Sea bass.”

  “Yup. Along with risotto, salad and vegetables sautéed in olive oil.”

  “One of my favorites.”

  “Mine, too.” She sat in her usual place at a right angle to him.

  They ate in silence for a few moments, savoring the delicate flavors, the way they all complemented each other. Watching her enjoy her food was about the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. He had to say something before he swallowed his tongue.

  He glanced at the other things on the table and wondered if she’d missed something. “What, no dessert?”

  “About that—” She met his gaze. “You’re going to have it later.”

  “Am I?”

  “Absolutely, because I know how important it is to you. I’ve been asking around, and—”

  He had an uneasy feeling. “Where am I going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” She was looking very mysterious, which was the opposite of comforting.

  “Does it have anything to do with that list of things for a mobility-challenged person to do without a wheelchair?”

  “As a matter of fact—” she chewed the last bite of sea bass and swallowed “—the list is now a spreadsheet. Your idea.”

  He wished he’d never confessed about the bet and his strategy for dealing with it. “You didn’t.”

  “It’s morphed into a schedule. Something different every day. Not unlike what you had planned before your unfortunate accident.”

  “What if I don’t want to be that scheduled?”

  “Let’s ignore the fact that you sound like a disgruntled eleven-year-old. Look at it as an opportunity to silence your guilty conscience, stay true to the spirit of the bet and learn how to do down time. In the process you’ll feel really good about yourself.”

  “Okay. None of that is going to happen. And before you accuse me of pushing back and finding something wrong for no reason, this is for the sake of argument. What are we doing this afternoon?”

  “I’m not—”

  “Yes, you are. I’m not going alone. So, give it to me straight.”

  “It’s a surprise.” She wiped her mouth with the cloth napkin, then set it by her plate.

  The only surprise he was in favor of was her walking into the room naked. Zero chance of that happening, so he said, “If you won’t reveal the secret activity, it means I’m not going to like the surprise.”

  Her look challenged him. “Let’s go and find out.”

  * * *

  “I thought participating in activities was supposed to relax a person.”

  Justine ignored the death-by-stare look Cal gave her and threaded another reed into the beginner basket she was weaving. “Are you whining? Because that sounded an awful lot like a whine to me.”

  “Is that any way to talk to your boss?”

  “It’s the same way I’ve talked to you since I arrived. Seems a little late to start complaining about it now.” She looked up at him sitting beside her on the bench at the picnic table. They were in a group craft lesson where she was trying to ignore the heat that consumed her every time Cal’s shoulder or any other part of him touched her.

  “There are limits to what I’ll endure,” he grumbled.

  “Probably. But so far I haven’t seen it. Makes me feel powerful.”

  “Good for you.” He glared down at the mess of split, torn and discarded reeds in front of him. “For the record, I was right.”

  “Of course you’d think that.” She pushed her threaded fronds closer together to make the weave tighter. “But because I’m a good assistant and kindhearted, too, I’ll humor you. What is it you think you’re right about?”

  “That statement, Miss Walker, is the very definition of patronizing, and if I’m not mistaken, there was a good deal of condescension thrown in, too.”

  “Excellent that you noticed.” She smiled up at him. “I was afraid you’d missed it.”

&n
bsp; His lips twitched, canceling out his bad-tempered remarks. “What I’m right about is that you surprised me with a basket weaving class precisely because you knew I would hate it.”

  “Your open-mindedness is truly inspiring.”

  “Don’t think that sunny attitude will distract me.” There was a twinkle in his eyes. “Everyone knows basket weaving is a joke. It’s what you tell your parents your college major is in order to watch their hair turn white.”

  She laughed. “On the contrary. It’s big business. There are classes all over the States and supply stores. Serious stuff. These baskets can be decorative or practical.”

  He looked ruefully at his attempt. “Not from where I’m sitting.”

  “Cheer up, Cal. Don’t forget I promised you ice cream afterward if you’re a good boy. That’s why I didn’t order dessert at lunch. It’s part of the surprise.”

  He ripped another reed trying to get it into place and swore under his breath. “Tell me again how this is supposed to be relaxing.”

  “Because you’re not being graded.”

  “Ha.” He gestured to the eight or ten people working at other tables. “They’re all judging and not in a happy way. I can feel it.”

  She looked around and in spite of his complaints, this class delivered on its promise—beginning basket weaving in paradise. She’d found it online, offered at a nearby resort, signed them up and arranged transportation. The tables were in an open-sided structure and shaded by a thatched roof. There was a spectacular view of the ocean, and flowered shrubs, palm trees and grass surrounded them. A sea breeze made the air temperature practically perfect.

  “Let me explain the concept of vacation to you.” She picked up another reed and easily worked it through while teaching her boss the intricacies of Vacation 101. “Most of your time is spent doing things that are important for one reason or another. Making money, sustaining jobs, providing a service or product. The prospect of not being able to fulfill one of those commitments produces stress.”

  “I’m painfully aware of all that—”

  “And I’m aware that you’re aware.” She held up a hand to stop him when he opened his mouth to argue. “It’s vacation you’re woefully inadequate with. The stress will burn you out if you don’t take a break and figure out how to power down. It’s a time when you can do nothing at all.” She held up her basket. “Or do something that doesn’t matter whether or not you succeed.”