Take a Chance on Me: The Oceanic Dreams Series Book Six

by Stewart, Delancey

  I closed my eyes, the note next to me on the night stand. I would know soon enough.

  * * *

  I didn't end up having to go out searching for my sister. She arrived, somewhat loudly, around midnight, and sank into bed after babbling a bit about Chris being the anti-Ben or something like that. I woke up long enough to confirm she was safe and content, and then rolled over and went back to sleep.

  The next time I woke, sun was streaming through the verandah windows, promising another beautiful day in the Caribbean. Today the boat was anchored near Cozumel. And today, I thought, as I showered and dressed, would be the day I got my dream job. I tried not to let my vision of Lincoln's disappointed face ruin the excitement I felt at the prospect.

  Max was in his office when I arrived, and a moment after he'd ushered me in and asked how my sister and I were enjoying our cruise, Lincoln appeared in the doorway. My heart did a little stutter on seeing him, his uniform starched and pressed, and that blond hair arranged in messy waves over his dark brooding eyes. His attitude was careful, serious, and when he sat in the chair next to mine, I wanted to reach for him. But whatever would or would not be between us would have to wait. He gave me a careful smile and one long searching look before Max began speaking.

  "I'm glad you both were able to make it this morning," he said. "Though I do hope later you'll head out and enjoy Cozumel and have some seafood. Best in the world, if you find the right place, I'm telling you." He shot us a grin that felt strangely out of place, and I waited for him to get around to business. As I contemplated him breaking the bad news to Lincoln, my stomach was churning. There was a part of me that actually considered standing up and telling him I wanted to pull myself out of the running, let Lincoln win this time. But I couldn't do that. I'd been working toward this a long time, and it was a big part of my dream—even if it meant Lincoln might never speak to me again.

  And if that was his reaction this time, wouldn't it be better to know?

  "Well, I'll get right to the point," Max said, settling back into the dark leather of his chair, his hands across his round stomach. "The resort in Cayman is an investment—for both companies involved. It represents a huge outlay of funds, for one thing, and also a bit of a leap of faith, at least on the part of Oceanic."

  Lincoln and I were nodding our understanding, each of us waiting for him to get to the punch line.

  "And while traditionally, a manager would run day-to-day operations, oversee staff, keep things going smoothly, the Cayman property is too critical to both companies for either one to easily hand that important role over to the other. So we've come to an agreement."

  A little spike of worry crawled through me, icing my skin and making my spine straighten as I crossed my ankles beneath my chair.

  "We will not be appointing a manager as planned."

  My heart dropped, and I heard Lincoln exhale in one audible puff.

  "Each company will appoint a co-manager," Max went on. "And Lincoln will be the appointee for Oceanic. I've already spoken at length with Perdido's management, and Selena, you are their choice."

  Co-managers. Lincoln and I exchanged a look.

  "How would that work exactly?" Lincoln asked, his voice low and steady.

  My heart was pounding. I'd gotten my dream job—kind of. And so had Lincoln. I just wasn't sure what it meant.

  "At the outset, we envision one of you heading up general operations, vendor management, staff concerns—back office stuff. The other would be the more guest-facing, overseeing activities staff, dining experiences, excursions and hospitality."

  I found myself nodding along.

  "You'd have to work closely side by side," Max was saying.

  My eyes met Lincoln's again, and a little smile tugged at one side of his mouth.

  "There's a lot of coordination required for this to work," Max went on. "So these two roles will be closely aligned, and you two will need to interact as if you were two hands on the same body. Make sense?"

  "Of course," I said, absorbing all this. Lincoln and I had both won this time. It was the perfect solution. My heart swelled in my chest at the idea of living and working at the beautiful Cayman resort with Lincoln at my side. It was almost exactly what we had talked about and planned all those years ago. This was the way things were supposed to go.

  Lincoln shot a smile at me, and the way his eyes shone told me he was thinking the same thing. A little flip of my stomach made me squirm in my seat.

  Max nodded and shuffled through some papers on his desk. "Details will be forthcoming. Target opening date will be November, after the threat of hurricane season has passed, but we'll expect both of you to report for duty by the end of August. You'll live in staff quarters on the property." He glanced up as Lincoln and I both sat still, absorbing all this. "And there's one more thing, but I'm sure it won't be an issue." Max looked between us then, pausing just long enough to ensure he had our attention. "There will be a strict no fraternization policy among staff."

  My excitement turned to a block of ice. What?

  "No ... ?" Lincoln said, shaking his head as if he didn't understand the word.

  "No hanky panky among the staff. You two will have to enforce that rule—people get a little stir crazy on small islands. A lot of the staff will be local—they'll come in and go home every day. But we don't want a teenage-counselors-at-summer-camp kind of vibe among those who do live on site. Make sense?" Max asked. "And if something did go on, and then it went wrong, well—" He clearly didn't think he needed to finish that train of thought.

  I didn't know how to feel. On one hand, I was thrilled—I got the job and it had happened without having to see Lincoln disappointed again. But now we'd been warned that any relationship between us would be frowned upon, and could potentially cost us the jobs we'd just won. How could I see Lincoln every day and ignore the way my skin warmed at the sight of him, the way my stomach tightened at the memory of his touch?

  There was no way it would work.

  "We'll be getting paperwork to you both within a week. You can start getting things in order to move. Remember, August!" Max stood and smiled broadly, clearly pleased with the decision.

  I followed suit, getting to my feet though my head was still spinning. Lincoln did the same.

  Together, we left Max's office, neither of us speaking. We walked side by side down the narrow hallway, our fingertips brushing as we moved along.

  "Drink?" Lincoln asked in a low unhappy voice.

  I glanced at him. "It's ten-thirty."

  He didn't say anything.

  Maybe a drink would help settle my mind so I could work through how this co-management position might ever be feasible. "Okay."

  "This way." Lincoln led me through a series of corridors and down staircases until I felt we were certainly in the bottom level of the ship. It ended up being staff quarters, and I got a glimpse of part of the reason Lincoln might have been eager to give up his life at sea—his cabin was about the size of my closet at home. I felt myself shiver.

  "Lincoln, I don't think..."

  He went in, picked up a bottle and two glasses, and came back out. "I'd never expect you to sit in there," he said. "I know you better than that. Follow me."

  We wound again through hallways and up staircases, and finally ended up in a little sitting area where there was only one other man, reading quietly in an armchair.

  "Where are we?"

  "Crew deck," Lincoln said. "But no one ever comes in here." He gave me a little smile and set down the glasses on a round table in front of a window, waving me toward a chair. The chairs were close together, and the space was intimate but didn't feel confining. I sat as Lincoln settled next to me and poured two fingers of scotch into each glass.

  "Scotch?" I asked, frowning. "I don't know if I—"

  Lincoln held up his glass, raised an eyebrow. I lifted my own glass and touched it to his. Then I sipped, letting the liquid wash across my tongue and send a warm line of fire down my throat. I'd n
ever had scotch like this—it was smooth and a note of caramel lingered on my tongue.

  "I don't think we can both take this job," Lincoln said.

  I sighed, knowing he was right.

  He went on. "You should take it. They'll find someone else from Oceanic." He looked me in the eye as he spoke, but it was hard for me to believe he was saying the words.

  "No," I said, shaking my head. "We can make it work, right? It's what we've both wanted."

  He took another long drink of his scotch and then set the glass down and met my eyes across the table. "That's what I thought," he said. "But there's something I want more." A shiver rushed through me and my skin turned hot. Beneath the tabletop, Lincoln's hand found mine, and he held it lightly, running his thumb over the tops of my knuckles. "What I really want is another chance with you," he said. "If you'll give me one."

  My stomach flipped and I felt a silly grin spread across my face. But I thought about the logistics. "But how would that work, Lincoln? Unless you take the job, we'd never see each other."

  "Does that mean yes?" he asked, leaning closer.

  I actually giggled. "I want it too," I admitted. "I tried to stay angry at you after you told me everything. But then I thought about it. So much time has passed, but my heart still wants you. I was willing to try again," I said, earning me a wide smile from Lincoln. "But now I don't know how we can."

  "I don't want to hide the way I feel," Lincoln said. "If we both took the job, we couldn't let anyone find out. We'd end up fired."

  I nodded, disappointment flooding me. How had things gone so wrong?

  "So you take the job," Lincoln said. "We'll make it work."

  "How?" It didn't pass my notice that Lincoln had basically just given up his dream job for me. Pretty much the opposite of what had happened six years ago.

  "I don't know." His smile faltered. "I just don't think I can be close to you and not be allowed to touch you."

  "But if you don't take the job, you'll never be close." I sipped more of the scotch, the realization of exactly how screwed we were settling like a deep dark pit inside me. "It's impossible either way."

  Lincoln's eyes met mine, and for a long minute we didn't speak. "We'll figure it out." The words were right, but they held no conviction. How could they? It was an impossible situation.

  I leaned back in my chair, draining what was left in the glass as Lincoln shifted his weight slightly, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. He frowned at it as it buzzed, and then answered, raising a finger to me.

  I watched his handsome face as he listened to whoever was on the other end, Lincoln making quiet noises of acknowledgment and agreement as the caller talked. A strange look came over Lincoln's face after a few minutes, and he glanced at me with wide eyes. Then he interrupted the caller, saying, "Hang on just one second, okay?" He leaned toward me over the table top. "I have to take this call. It's important. And then I've got to work. Can we have dinner tonight? In Cozumel?"

  Disappointment made me feel heavy. Nothing had been decided. I had no idea whether we had a plan or not, couldn't call into work and confirm. I was stuck in limbo. "I guess so," I said. "I need to check on Jenny anyway."

  Lincoln nodded. "I'll meet you at seven. Bring Jenny if you want. At the ferry."

  I sighed and stood, then realized I had no idea where I was. I was about to interrupt Lincoln when he paused again in his quiet listening and said, "there's a staircase right outside the door. Go up four floors and you'll be on the Lido deck."

  I knew the Lido deck. I could find my way from there. "Bye." I cast a long last look at Lincoln, my heart simultaneously jumping and squeezing as a whirl of warring thoughts went through me. I didn't see how this could ever work out in a way that would make both my heart and my mind happy.

  It was impossible.

  I spent the rest of the day with Jenny laying out by the pool and slowly sipping tropical drinks with umbrellas in them. By the time I was dressing for dinner, I was sunburned and slightly tipsy.

  "You sure you're not coming with?" I asked Jenny as we both showered and changed.

  "Dinner with Chris," she'd sung excitedly.

  "And you're sure we're happy about this?"

  "Do I look happy?" she asked.

  I gave her a once over. "You do, actually." Could she really rebound this fast?

  "Then don't question it," she suggested.

  I sighed. Was Jenny's life really this easy? Why was my own so impossibly complicated? "Have a good night. I'll see you back here."

  "See you," she said. "Try not to worry so much."

  Easy for her to say. I went to meet Lincoln, my heart feeling like a foreign object lodged in my chest. This would never work, and I was sure I was marching off to have my heart broken yet again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lincoln was waiting to usher me off the ship, dressed in his off-duty clothes. He wore a pair of dark jeans and a royal blue polo shirt that stretched across his toned chest, showing off the fit muscles beneath it. Despite my confusion about everything, I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate the new and improved Lincoln. He was gorgeous. And steadfast and genuine. He'd shown me this week that he was someone I could count on, and I wished there was a way I could keep him in my life, but it didn't seem like fate was willing to help us this time.

  When he dropped a hand to the small of my back, guiding me gently as we stepped onto the little ferry to Cozumel, and when he sat close to me, our legs pressed together and his arm behind me, holding me near, it clarified things in my head. I couldn't work with him and be forced to pretend there was nothing else between us.

  And so that meant we'd be saying goodbye in another day. Once we docked in Miami, I'd return to my job and let Lincoln take the position in Cayman. Perdido would send someone else to co-manage with Lincoln. Someone who wasn't tempted to break the rules every time he smiled.

  "You doing okay?" Lincoln's voice was a low rumble as he looked down at me with concern. His dark eyes were clouded with worry, and the arm he had draped casually around me pulled me a little tighter into his side.

  I sighed and tried to smile at him. Then something occurred to me. "Hey, you're not allowed to fraternize with passengers, are you?" Evidently fraternization was on my mind. "I don't want you to get in trouble."

  "Technically no," he said. "But the cruise is almost over and I'm not going to miss one second of being as close to you as I can. I'm not really worried about my job at this point."

  "But if Max believes we're together, he might change his mind about offering either of us the opportunity."

  Lincoln looked thoughtful but not worried. "He might."

  I tried to scoot away from Lincoln on the bench in the tender that was taking us to shore, but he kept me tucked firmly at his side.

  It didn't matter, I figured. We weren't both going to be able to take the job anyway. If Lincoln was willing to risk it, so was I. I stopped fighting, leaning into the comfort of his strong presence at my side.

  Once we had landed, Lincoln took my hand and led me through the streets of the little town, brightly colored buildings and signs all around us as the other passengers flooded the place.

  We ducked down a side street, and Lincoln pulled me up against him, somewhat out of view. "I've been wanting to do this all day," he said, holding me against him, his strong arms around me. Then he leaned his head down and kissed me softly. "Everything's going to work out, Selena," he said, one hand coming up to cup the side of my face.

  I shook my head. "I really don't see how it can."

  "Come on." He took my hand again and continued leading me through the little maze of streets. Eventually, we came to a restaurant with tables scattered around an outdoor patio. He greeted the host standing outside, speaking perfect Spanish, and we were seated at a small table where we could appreciate the beautiful night. Low music played on speakers somewhere above us, and the restaurant seemed to cater to locals and tourists alike, with more Spanish spoken around us than
English. We ordered margaritas, and Lincoln took a sip, then smiled at me expectantly across the little table.

  "Why do you look so happy?" I asked him, wishing I could dispel the sense of impending doom in my gut. "We're in a pretty crappy situation. Or did you forget?"

  Lincoln smiled and shook his head lightly. "I didn't forget. But Selena, I've been wishing for a night like this for the last six years. A chance to see you again, to ask forgiveness, to kiss you. I've never stopped thinking about you, about the mistakes I made. I've never stopped loving you." His voice was low and calm, and each word strummed a string of matching desire in me. But he was missing the point.

  "It'll never work though," I said, feeling like someone here had to maintain a grasp on reason.

  He leaned back, took a breath and looked around him. Seeming to gather himself for something big, he reached for his drink again, took a long swallow and then set it down. "That's exactly why I wanted to come to dinner."

  "Dinner is nice," I agreed. "But maybe it makes things even harder. Tomorrow we'll have to say goodbye, and—"

  "I've been on the phone most of the day," Lincoln said, interrupting me.

  Weird. "Hello non sequitur."

  "Hear me out. There's a point here, I promise."

  It was my turn to pick up my drink and sit back. The warm night air felt close around us, and I decided to just enjoy being with Lincoln, listening to his rich deep voice as he told me whatever it was he was so excited to tell me.

  "Do you remember me taking a call this morning while we were talking?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "And do you remember Arthur? From Jamaica?"

  "I'll never forget swimming with the dolphins, Lincoln." I smiled at that thought. It had been one of the best days of my life.

  "How would you like to do it again? Whenever you want to?"

  "I'm not following." Where was he going with this?

  "The phone call this morning was Arthur. I've been talking to him for a while, about all kinds of things. One of which is how much he wants to be with his son. In the states."