by Jean Oram
“I’m not the only one who makes decisions around here, Daphne.” Mistral’s face was flushed and Evander wondered how many decisions the man actually got to make in his own company.
She leaned forward, her voice softening. “Be the hero I know you are and open Camp Adaker somewhere new. Tristen Bell has agreed to cover the cost. You’d look like a saint for looking out for those troubled kids. Think of the publicity and goodwill it would generate around your business.”
She paused and Evander felt himself holding his breath so he wouldn’t miss Mistral’s reply. He noted that the new bodyguard was doing the same.
“I’m on your side,” Daphne cooed.
Oh, this man was going down. Who could resist her when she got like that? Not a man who was swinging for Team Heterosexual, that was for sure.
“There’s a way to follow the rules with this development and come out on top. Be the good guy, be the hero. As well as make a tidy profit and prove yourself to the corporate world. Everyone could be emulating you, Mistral.”
Damn, she knew this man’s weaknesses and was playing to them like a major league pitcher. Evander should have told her to be active in her life sooner. Then again, he wouldn’t have had the chance to hang out with that firefly kiddo of hers. The girl seriously brightened his days in ways he hadn’t expected. Daphne, too, if he was honest with himself.
She collected her purse, saying casually, “Think about it, Mistral. You know me. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. I have your best interests at heart and I know if we cooperate everyone could get what they want. Everyone.”
Daphne turned to the door, and Evander fell into step behind her, shaking himself out of the moment in order to keep one eye on the men. In the doorway, Daphne paused, turning back, and he stepped out of the way so she could see Mistral. “You know it doesn’t have to be this way,” she said to him. “We could be on the same side again.”
“Were we ever really on the same side, Daphne?”
Evander could see there was no love lost between them, yet the hope in Daphne’s eyes nearly crushed him. Her desire to have Tigger’s father in their lives was almost unbearable to witness, and the worst part was that Evander knew Mistral didn’t have the strength of character to be good for either of the Summers.
Daphne was a smart, competent, and confident person, yet she was falling for the same mistakes women made over and over again. She was believing in the wrong man instead of cutting loose, knowing she deserved someone better.
“There was a time when you wanted to make a difference on this earth,” she said. “Money wasn’t everything and you wanted to be different from your father, but look at you. You couldn’t be more like him if you tried.” Daphne had moved back to the desk, facing off against her ex-boyfriend, her fingertips resting lightly on the smooth varnish. “Has he accepted you yet? Is he proud? Have you finally received his love?”
Evander watched, intrigued. The man who had been so removed, emotionless and determined shrank in his fine leather chair. She had him by the ball sack and all she had to do was twist and he’d be a crumpled heap on the floor, wailing for his mama.
Evander had definitely underestimated Daphne.
She turned, pausing again in the doorway. “You’re a crappy father, Mistral, just like your dad was. I thought you’d want to be different from him in that regard, but I suppose I was wrong.”
With that parting shot, she brushed by Evander, the contact making the hairs on his arm stand up. He grinned at the stunned-looking Mistral, then followed Daphne back down on the elevator and out into the street. She may have just picked a fight or she may have put the man in his place. But either way, Daphne’s stock had definitely gone up.
“I think I fell in love back there,” he said, helping her into his truck.
“Oh, Evander. You did not.” She gave him a dry look.
“No, really. Sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” He held up his hand as though taking a vow.
She blushed. “That wasn’t my best side playing him like that.”
Maybe not, but it was still dead sexy and revealed just how powerful she could be when she got out of her own way.
CHAPTER 12
“Can we go to the island?” Tigger asked, tugging on her mother’s arm. They’d barely made it in the door and the kid was all over her as if they’d been separated for weeks rather than hours.
“What island?” Evander asked. The idea of going somewhere again was exhausting. He wasn’t a wimp, but he could use a low-key evening after strutting about in the lion’s den with Daphne poking at the snarling beast. He’d had way too much time on the way back to imagine all the ways Mistral could react to her little showdown today. Everything from the good to the bad to the very ugly.
“The cottage,” Daphne clarified, brushing a mess of curls out of her face. She looked worn-out, and her usual hurried, brisk movements were methodical as she pulled off her sandals. He steadied her with a hand on her elbow, knowing she needed more than he was offering.
“So? Can we go?” Tigger bounced alongside her mother, and Kyle raised his eyebrows hopefully to Evander. Daphne looked at him as well, deferring the decision. She was going to defer to him on going to the family cottage, but not on going to see the man who could possibly be in charge of having someone attack her with a Hummer? Because while everyone kept pointing to Aaron Bloomwood, the fact of the matter was the man had been working for Mistral, whether he’d ordered the attacks or not. And although Evander hadn’t pegged the wishy-washy, weak Mistral as a mastermind, he knew better than to underestimate someone who was scared and easily influenced by others.
“How’s Mom?” Evander asked his brother, putting off answering the girl.
“Fine. So? Can we go?” Brick asked. “I’ve heard all about this magnificent island.”
“Why don’t you and Tigger go see what you can rustle up for supper, and Daphne and I’ll talk about it.”
Evander felt fatherly, shocked at how comfortable it was. Then again, Tigger seemed to have a knack for weaving her way into people’s hearts, making them feel as though she was theirs.
“That kid is something, isn’t she?” He took Daphne’s light sweater and hung it on a hook at the door. “So? What’s the island about?”
“It’s where our cottage is. We go for supper picnics there fairly often.”
“You like picnics, don’t you?”
“Who doesn’t?”
He could think of a few people. Namely those who felt exposed dining out in the middle of nowhere when they had lives to protect.
“You want to go to the island?” he asked, unsure whether Daphne wanted him to be the bad guy and say no to Tigger, or if she was leaving the final call to him due to safety concerns.
She shrugged, a spark of something in her eyes.
She wanted to go.
Of course.
Evander thought back to the short visit he’d had to Nymph Island when he’d been helping Daphne’s sister Hailey and her movie star boyfriend, Finian, escape the paparazzi last month. The island had been dark and remote, with crappy cell service. The building had been run-down and nowhere near secure. And if memory served, it was right across the water from Rubicore’s island.
“I don’t think your cottage is a safe place to go right now,” he said, aware he was crossing his arms.
Daphne placed her hands on her hips, and he could tell by the set of her jaw and the way she was chewing her bottom lip that she was fighting the urge to argue with him. Her life had changed a lot since he’d come into it, and he was beginning to resent the way she held it against him, as if it was his own doing.
“It’s a place where I can think,” she said.
“They tried to run you off the road, and you practically launched grenades at Mistral today.” Evander’s temper started to rise. People like Daphne were their own worst enemies. They took control, but over the wrong things. “Do you trust me or not?”
“Trust has nothing to do with this
.”
“You’re not trusting my advice nor my authority.”
“Authority?” Her head took a dangerous tilt, and if he had been a smarter man he would have shut up and run. But there was a reason why he was a hired gun and not working in a skyscraper like Mistral. He never shut up. He never ran. It made him good at what he did.
He took a step closer, knowing he was encroaching in her personal space and that she found his size threatening. He would never hurt her, but his number one job was to keep her safe, not become her best friend or give her warm fuzzies.
“Authority?” she repeated.
“Yeah, you have a problem with that?”
“Oh, you are just too much.”
Knowing it was a mistake, he bent his head down so his lips were flush with hers. She tasted like raspberry lip gloss and something comforting. Her eyes drifted shut and when he moved away, breaking the kiss, he had a moment to revel in her unguarded, sweet and innocently beautiful self.
She was the epitome of everything the war had taken from him, and he stepped back, feeling as though he had been hit hard in the chest by a shock wave. She was life and he was falling for her. Hard.
“Are you okay?” Her voice was soft, her touch on his arm more firm.
He was a man. He could get through this. It was just a kiss.
But he needed distance. A distraction. Something to keep him preoccupied.
He opened his mouth and said, “Let’s go to the island.”
* * *
Daphne stood in the front entry of Florence’s home and blinked furiously, scrambling to get her bearings. That was some kiss. Again.
He kept doing that.
But this time it was him who looked completely off-kilter afterward.
Head tucked down, Evander strode down the hall with his slight, distinctive limp, disappearing into the kitchen, where Brick and Tigger where hooting with laughter as they worked up dinner plans.
He’d kissed her. Then said they were going to the island.
Which was odd, seeing as she knew he didn’t want to take her there for fear that without his million doodads he couldn’t keep them safe.
While in Toronto she’s seen a lighter side of Evander. One that smiled, and it looked good on him. Unfortunately, he’d seen and liked a side of herself that was awful.
Again, she’d failed in trying to take action. She’d been pushy and mean to Mistral in an attempt to coerce him into working with her and her sisters. She’d said unkind, hurtful things. She’d been the type of woman she hated. And Evander had loved it.
She needed to go to Nymph Island and think. But Evander had made it clear he was willing to die in order to keep her and Tigger safe. That wasn’t something she could take lightly, and she feared going to the island would put him in a dangerous position.
In the sitting room she ran the island plan by Florence, half hoping she’d say no. The woman caught Daphne’s hands in her own, giving her a steady gaze that reminded her so much of Evander. “Are you okay, dear?”
“Fine. Where did Tigger take off to?”
“She’s in the kitchen with Kyle. There’s so much life and happiness in that child. You’re doing a wonderful job.”
Daphne jolted, not expecting the compliment. It felt as though she spent her days trying to keep up with her daughter more than actually guiding and shaping her into someone or something specific. There was very little to take credit for other than a bit of passed-down genetics.
She sat heavily beside Florence, thinking. What kind of parents did Tigger have in her life? A father who destroyed the environment for money and essentially wanted nothing to do with her, and a mother who was cruel to him in hopes of getting him to do things her way.
Maybe letting go of Nymph Island would be for the best. Rubicore and their developments were the future, not old cottages that were lucky to be still standing. Daphne was exhausting herself, trying to make people care about preserving Canada’s heritage and environment.
Tigger bounded into the room and Daphne held in a sigh. She didn’t have the energy to deal with the girl. Just listening to her natter away at Florence made her want to cry from exhaustion. Being a single mother was all she’d ever known, but the past several days of having support had been eye-opening in regards to how tiring it really was. Especially while trying to keep from getting killed.
She’d always envied how her friends were able to slip off to book club or dance lessons or simply go for a walk on their own. She knew she was lucky that her sisters would step in and take her daughter here and there, so Daphne could get a small reprieve for a few hours. Sometimes all she needed was thirty minutes to herself. Thirty minutes of uninterrupted thoughts, even though the small break often left her feeling guilty. She knew needing that time didn’t make her less of a good mother, but it still made her feel that way.
Evander stood over her and she looked up, feeling impossibly small.
“Let’s go.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Really?” Hope bubbled up within her.
“Really.”
“We should pack a supper,” she said, too exhausted to move.
“Already done. Coming, Mom?”
“I’d love to.”
Evander packed everyone into Daphne’s repaired van and took the keys. “Mind if I drive? You look beat.”
Tears threatened to brim in Daphne’s eyes and she nodded, climbing into the back. She didn’t know where he’d had her van fixed, how much it cost or even how he’d arranged to get it back to the house. Right now she was just happy not have to do anything but go along for the ride.
Evander nudged her awake in the marina parking lot. Everyone else was already heading down to the dock, and they needed her and the boat key.
“You okay?”
“You were wrong,” Daphne said. “I take action in my life. I do things. I organize protests and influence people about the environment.” Man, that was an exhausting endeavor. What would it be like when she worked for Environment Canada? More of the same, only every day and not on her terms? It sounded like a sure path to burnout. “I don’t let others do everything for me, Evander. I let you fix my van, and I listen when you boss me around about safety stuff now, but that’s different. I’m always trying to do what’s best for my daughter, as well as ensure we have enough. It’s not an easy balance. Today, when I tried to be the person you wanted, I was a bitch, and I didn’t like it.”
He sat in the captain’s chair in the van’s middle row, angled back so he could look at her.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” she asked.
He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe I was wrong. I got a charge out of seeing you kick Mistral in the proverbial nads today, but you’re right. It’s not you.” He rubbed the side of his face where the scars were, and she wondered what he was thinking. “That wasn’t the peace talk you had in mind.”
“So now what?” She shivered, worried she’d made things worse with her trip today instead of better.
“We restrategize.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He held out his hand to help her out of her seat, but didn’t pull her up yet. “I need to learn how to get out of the way and trust you and your slow-and-steady instincts. You need to do this your way and I need to stop interfering and simply be there to help keep you safe.” He swallowed hard, showing her it had been difficult for him to tell her he’d been wrong. She leaned forward, awkwardly hugging him in the cramped space.
“Thank you, Evander. You’re a real man, you know that?”
His eyes clouded briefly, then without a word, he nodded, drawing her out of the van and down to where everyone was waiting for them.
At the cottage, Tristen’s boat was tied up at the dock, and Daphne sighed, knowing that on top of everything, she didn’t have the energy to deal with Melanie tonight.
Her sister and Tristen came down the shaded path hand in hand, and Daphne worried they
might be interrupting something.
“I’m surprised you let them out of Fort Knox,” Tristen said to Evander, shaking his hand. Although he said it with a grin to show he was kidding, Daphne could see tension return to her big bodyguard. It had slowly begun to creep up on him the closer they got to the island, and now it was back in full force.
“We have a picnic,” Kyle said, holding up the basket. “We brought way too much food and I’m sure there’s enough for everyone.”
“Sixth sense,” said Florence, tapping her temple with a finger. “I knew there’d be more people.”
“We won’t be staying long,” Melanie said, and Daphne knew it was a lie even before Tristan shot her sister a look. They’d always been good about sharing the cottage, and any of the sisters were welcome at any time, even if the others were using the place. But now that they were all hooking up, Daphne wondered if she would be the odd woman out in a place that had always felt like home.
“Oh, do stay. I’d love to get to know Daphne’s family better,” Florence said, as introductions were made.
“Love your dress,” Kyle said, eyeing Melanie’s 1950s-style frock. “I can see the Summer women have a thing for femininity.”
Daphne looked down at her T-shirt dress, then over at her daughter, who was in her usual flounces.
“I’m special,” Tigger said.
“You sure are,” Florence said, giving her a pat.
Daphne frowned at Tigger. She’d been saying the odd, uncharacteristic thing lately. About not causing a fuss, about being special, and something about cycles or circles.
“I suppose we should go up?” Daphne asked, waving the picnic basket toward the path.
They all made their way up to the cottage, Florence taking the ancient lift so she wouldn’t have to deal with the steep hill. On the veranda, Daphne began unloading the picnic on the outdoor dining table as Tristan and Melanie brought more chairs. Evander helped his mother out of the lift and joined Daphne.
