by Sue Gibson
Callie Evans perched her designer frames atop her hundred-dollar haircut and pulled her attention from her computer screen. "Hey, boss. How did you make out? Should I be calling Legal?"
"Not yet, Callie," Ethan said warmly to his assistant. "Just one minor complication to work through before the island is ours." That is, if you could call Lily Greensly and her formidable passion for everything connected to Loon Lake and her family, minor. "It's a game of finesse, Callie."
"Oh, you'll seal the deal. You always do"
"Sure I will. But in the meantime, set something up at Mamma Mia's, please. Friday night. Early, around six."
"Oh, Emma must be excited. Tell her to have an extra dessert for me" Callie patted her flat belly. "There are more calories in Mamma's cheesecake than I eat in a year."
Ethan flashed a smile toward his flamboyant assistant and strode through the doorway into one the most coveted corner offices on Bay Street.
His steps slowed for a second as his gaze fell on the stack of files centered neatly on his desk and the row of sticky notes covering the top half of his computer screen. This is the price I pay for staying out of the office an extra day, he thought, grimacing at the paperwork, but getting Osprey Island was priority-one right now.
He allowed his gaze to travel to the gleaming glass behind his desk and the view of Toronto's harbor. Morning mist still circled the upper stories of the adjacent office buildings. Beyond, a dark and serious Lake Ontario buffeted the shoreline, leaving a sticky line of foam each time it receded. Farther out, a tanker plowed through the white caps, its plume of black smoke swept into the downtown area by an offshore breeze.
Lily would certainly have something to say about the state of this lake, he thought. She'd actually do something. He eyed a stack of environmental reading material he'd been obligated to study before breaking ground at Loon Lake. Was the answer buried somewhere in that massive pile of printed material?
Deciding to deal with more easily solved problems, he settled into the leather chair and stretched for his stack of messages. He quickly scanned the notes, only pausing when he came to the final message.
Jim Murdock, the manager of his Toronto hotel, was tied up with an automaker's conference and wouldn't make this morning's meeting.
Ethan tipped his chair back and swung his feet to his desk top. Jim was a bit like himself, Ethan acknowledged. A detail man. Ambitious. Hates to miss a critical meeting. I bet he'd appreciate an update after hours. Ethan's feet hit the floor as his hand reached for the phone.
"Jim. Ethan here," he said to Jim's answering machine. "No problem about missing the meeting. I'll drop by the hotel tonight and bring you up to speed."
Last night Lily had politely turned down his awkward offer of a private plane ride to the city; she'd take the train. But citing the diminishing grant funds, she'd graciously and, on the behalf of the university, accepted a free pass to the downtown Weatherall Hotel.
If he just happened to run into Lily, well ...
Lily scanned the downtown hotel's Mediterranean Room with manufactured nonchalance and smoothed a hand over the back of her dress. Assured her cotton floral skirt swung freely, she stepped across the threshold and sunk into carpet as deep as the peat in Blackbird Swamp. Feeling as if she had walked onto the movie set of a 1940s film, she scanned the crowd of diners for a table.
Textured wallpaper the color of a Starbucks latte set off the darker hue of the wainscoting. Chandeliers, pieces of twisted wrought iron and glass filled the room with romantic ambience. The hotel's brochure claimed the legendary Mediterranean Room to be the site of more marriage proposals than any other restaurant in Canada.
Couples populated the room, holding hands across pristine damask tablecloths, laughing quietly over shared intimacies.
Her urge to celebrate, city-style, was diminishing rapidly. Why didn't I just order room service?
She inched backward, planning her retreat, when the maitre d' spied her and expressed mock horror that a woman of her beauty need dine alone.
"I want a table somewhere private," she whispered to his tuxedo-clad back as they navigated the tables.
"Of course, my dear. I understand. But how will eligible gentlemen find you if I hide you in the corner?"
"I prefer to be alone."
"Ah, nursing a broken heart, my dear?"
What, is there a sign on my back?
"Thank you," she said, ignoring his comment, and settled into the plush corner bench.
Her table overlooked a garden of exotic ferns and manicured evergreens. Tiny twinkle lights circled the garden's lush perimeter.
Now this is worth braving the crowd of twosomes for, she decided. And after all, I deserve a special dinner, she reminded herself. Professor Nesbitt's Finance Committee had given her the go-ahead for her next project earlier today. All she had to do was fund-raise the remaining fifty percent and Loon Lake would be the site for another comprehensive study.
She couldn't stop a smile. And to top it off, a night in Toronto's ritziest hotel. After refusing his initial grandiose gesture, it had been relatively easy to accept Ethan's stay-for-free coupons.
"So, I take it by the look on your face your day was successful," a deep voice boomed from behind a potted fern.
Lily jumped. It was him. Already she knew the voice. Rich, mellow and ... sexy.
"Mr. Weatherall ... er, Ethan"
He wore a serious navy suit and a crisp white shirt. His tie was loosened at the neck. A swirl of light brown chest hair peeked out from the V of his collar. Probably the most formally dressed man in the room and so handsome her throat hurt when she tried to swallow.
He eyed the empty spot next to her and raised his eyebrows. "May I?"
"It's your place." She softened the phrase with a generous wave. "Have you eaten?"
"Yes. Earlier. But if you don't mind, I'll join you for a coffee."
Lily found herself wondering with whom he'd shared his meal.
"I dropped by for a meeting with my hotel manager and thought I'd swing through the dining room. You know, to see who's out and about."
"And? Is there anybody of note, anybody famous?" Lily scanned the room, excited by the notion she might see a celebrity.
"Kind of quiet tonight. Except for the deputy mayor over there by the dessert cart and the star of the Stratford Festival's latest production." He nodded his head to the left. "There. With the red dress"
Lily turned, anxious to catch a glimpse of a Canadian superstar. A white light flashed, and she raised her hands to her burning eyes.
"Sorry, miss. Do you mind, Mr. Weatherall? I'm short for tomorrow's paper. Could you share your date's name, please?"
Date? Ethan and I? Together? She opened her fingers a crack. A young man cradling an enormous camera and flashing a press card stood beside the table. Dots of blue light danced in front of her face and she pressed her fingertips to her pupils.
"Close your eyes for a few seconds and it goes away" His breath moved across the top her head, and she knew he must be leaning across the small table. His hand patted her forearm consolingly.
"This is Lily Greensly, from Loon Lake." Ethan directed to the reporter. "She's in the city today presenting to the university's marine research team"
She straightened in the chair and smiled toward the reporter, pleased Ethan had remembered the details of her visit.
The reporter's eyebrows lifted at the Loon Lake reference.
Excitement coursed through Lily's body. First a promise of funding and now a mention in the paper. Media exposure for her cause!
Ethan smiled into the camera and continued speaking. "Loon Lake, of course, is the home of my flagship hotel the Nirvana, the first in my new hotel chain."
The reporter scribbled hastily onto a notepad, and Lily sunk into the cushioned back of her chair. Of course he was promoting his gazillion-dollar investment, not her push to prevent corruption of the lake's resources.
Ethan's words blurred into background buzz as she forced herself to
consider the menu choices. The fish sounded tasty, but the chicken, on the other hand ...
"Lily" Ethan's voice cut into her thoughts. "Have you a comment for this gentleman?"
"Me?" She stared into the reporter's face, searching for a starting-off place. "Um ... yes," she said, wishing her voice didn't sound so shaky.
"My family's lodge and the Nirvana depend on the water quality of Loon Lake and ultimately the survival of the fish living there"
Surprise registered in the reporter's eyes followed by an admiring glance. His pen raced across the page. He probably thinks I'm somebody, Lily presumed. Thanks to Ethan.
"I'm hopeful Mr. Weatherall will join with me and the Friends of Loon Lake to ensure the lake's healthy existence."
Ethan nodded a visual "touche" across the table.
"The research group I work with is open to support, financially and in spirit," Lily finished strongly, while scrambling in her purse for Professor Nesbitt's card.
The reporter pocketed the card and moved off.
"Well done," Ethan said, admiration reflecting in his eyes. "I hope something comes of it. The city's movers and shakers read that guy's column, believe it or not"
"Thank you. I mean really, I could never hope for that kind of exposure on my own"
"My pleasure" His gaze moved over her face, resting when it found her eyes.
His broad smile was replaced with a more intense, questioning look and she wondered, had he come here hoping to find her? Her heart skipped a beat and she raised the menu to cover her face, suddenly shy.
He's completely wrong for me. We live in worlds as different as night and day. Plus, she wasn't ready to give her heart away again. Especially to someone who might damage, or at the very least exploit, the very thing she was working to protect.
Deciding to blame her attraction to Ethan on the Mediterranean Room's romantic charm, Lily looked up into the told-you-so smile of the hovering maitre d'.
The distance from the dining room to the bank of elevators was entirely too short, Lily decided, as they neared a pair of stainless steel doors.
She'd eaten an entire plate of chicken alfredo without tasting a single bite, while Ethan had drank several cups of black coffee. He'd explained the history of his cosmopolitan hotel, and she'd found herself fascinated with the intriguing past of the gorgeous old building.
"Tenth floor, please," she responded to his inquiring glance. Ethan's arm brushed against hers as he tapped a series of buttons and she smiled, realizing he intended to escort her to right to her room and she'd have a few minutes more of his pleasant company. She ignored the little voice, warning her to execute caution in the presence of this gorgeous man. She was a grown woman, she told herself sternly. Plenty old enough to enjoy a man's company without losing perspective-or her heart.
The elevator doors closed smoothly and they were swept upward. Haunting strains of a Mozart concerto filled the elevator, making Lily almost wish her room was on the twenty-fifth floor.
The doors slid open and his hand cupped her elbow as they exited the elevator. Without hesitation he chose a hallway leading to the right. "You said room 1032, right?
"Do you know all your hotels this well?"
"No way, but I cut my teeth on this one. Played in these hallways when I was a kid. Our nanny, Miss Scott, used to bring us down here for dinner with my father. Pretty much the only way we'd ever get a chance to see him."
He sounded matter-of-fact, as if an absent father was the norm. Where had his mother been?
She pulled her key card from her pocket as they approached her door. Should I ask him in? "Thank you again for the room," Lily said. "Saves my research budget for more useful things like software programs and lab equipment."
"Glad to help the cause" Ethan didn't move. "Gives me a chance to thank you for the fish fry. Your parents are great," he added more soberly. "Made me feel welcome"
He reached for her hands and folded them into his own and her heart did a flip-flop. "Well, it's been"-he paused and placed a finger under her chin, tilting her face until her gaze met with his"fun. You're like no woman in this city, Lily."
There he goes again, saying my name at the end of his sentence. The soft inflection he dropped drew her in, created an intimate moment out of an ordinary one.
He cradled her elbow in his hand and gently propelled her closer to him as the cleaning staff rolled a huge stainless steel cart by.
Somewhere on their floor, muffled voices voiced good-nights and a door closed.
His face breezed by her cheek as he reached for her card. "May I?" His familiar concoction of musk and mint ignited her senses. Whether a designer cologne or just toothpaste and aftershave, its effect was insanely seductive.
He needed a shave, she observed. The slope of his cheek, pebbled with stubble, although unusual for him, was not a bad look, really, she decided.
Her feet apparently had a mind of their own, and she remained frozen to the spot as he reached around her body and sliced the card through the slot.
"Darn" The plastic card tumbled from his fingers and landed at their feet. "Sorry, I'm all thumbs," Ethan said, bending to retrieve the card.
The strip of tanned skin revealed between the pristine white of his shirt collar and the neat barber's line of his thick black hair flushed red.
He's flustered, she realized with surprise and a smidgen of pleasure. She discreetly stepped back from the door.
Key in hand, he turned to face her, grinning. "One more try and you're in, I promise."
The door clicked open with his next attempt and he stepped aside, gallantly waving her inside. Turning to face him, she suddenly felt as if she was on a first date, silly expectations included. Would he call her? He certainly knew where to find her. He reached out and caught up her hand in his. Oh my. Would he kiss her? Did she want him too? She looked up into his face and he brought his other hand to cover hers. He dropped his gaze to the floor before returning to meet her eyes.
Taking a half step forward, Ethan was now disturbingly close. Her pulse quickened and she swallowed hard. It's okay if he kisses me, she rationalized. Adults do that sometimes. Doesn't have to be a big deal.
Lost in his chocolate-sweet eyes she let out a soft breath. He definitely was going to kiss her. His head dipped slightly and his lips dropped a warm kiss to her cheek.
Well, she wasn't wrong about the kiss, just its destination. When relief trumped disappointment, she realized that she wasn't ready for a man to kiss her again, anyway.
"Great to have run into you, Lily," he said. "Just call down to the front desk if you need anything at all. I'm glad to do my bit for the lake and your project" He smiled with the friendly words and clasped both her hands in his.
"Thank you, Ethan. You've been more than generous" With nothing else to say and in light of the awkward situation, she waited for her hands back. Silence yawned between them. A siren wailed somewhere in the city. Certain he must feel the clamminess of her palms still locked in his grasp, she gently unfurled her fingers. "Well, I guess I'll say good night then," she said.
He glanced down at their locked hands and dropped them, as if he hadn't realized they were still connected.
"Sure. But there are some documents I intended to courier out to you tomorrow that I'll give to you tonight. He extracted a sheaf of papers from his inner breast pocket and handed them to her. "Have a look at these tonight, please, and let me know what you think. The Hideaway is a special place, loaded with tradition and memories, and it would be a shame for all that to end with your generation. I hope this information helps alleviate some of your family's concerns."
The shift in topic caught her off guard. The Hideaway? She glanced at the papers in her hand, confusion clouding her thoughts.
"Good night, then. I'll talk you again, at the lake, I presume," she said as she edged the suite's door closed.
After sliding the bolt into place, she settled at the elegant writing desk and plucked the heavy bond sheets from the enve
lope.
Boldface lettering headed the legal-looking document. OFFER TO PURCHASE. What did he want to purchase?
Unwilling to plow through the legal jargon, she scanned the paragraphs. From the jumble of jargon, familiar words leaped from the page. "The property registered to Lily Greensly and hereby designated as Osprey Island" Her hands began to shake. He wanted her property?
Recollections of dinner, his smile as he spoke from across the candlelit table, the almost-kiss swirled in her head.
The antique chair toppled backward to the floor as she rose swiftly to her feet. Forcing air deep into her lungs, she picked up the paper again. Slowly and deliberately she stilled her shaking hand and focused on the dancing typeface.
Lily lifted her hand to her cheek. It burned hot under her trembling fingers. Was the accidental meeting in the restaurant meant to worm his way into her good books? Pave the way for ... this? She fanned the sheets across her face as a second flood of heat scorched her face. Her legs felt like rubber, and her arm flailed behind her for the toppled chair.
What did he want with Osprey Island anyway? What did it have to do with the Nirvana or, for that matter, the Hideaway? she wondered, remembering his comments about the Hideaway's traditions. Goose bumps torpedoed from her fingertips to her shoulders. She perched on the edge of the seat and once again smoothed the creased papers. Calm down, she directed herself. Breathe. Read it slowly.
A thick business card, embossed with the Weatherall logo and a list of Ethan's private numbers was clipped to the first sheet. Snapping the card to the desk, her eyes went on to devour the details of the document.
Apparently the Weatheralls wanted her island for use as a helipad. The sum mentioned was far beyond its appraised value. About three times as much.
Lily's glance darted from wall to tabletop to the entertainment center. In the top corner, left of the big screen television she found the time. Red digital numbers flashed 10:15 P.M.
She leaped to her feet and snatched the phone from its cradle. If Ethan Weatherall thought she was a country bumpkin who'd swoon at his feet, pen in hand, well ... he was about to find out differently!
