by Jean Oram
He was exhausted. He’d forgotten how much work swimming was. He tested the bottom of the lake. Mushy sand that sucked up between his toes. That was disgusting, but his body felt as though he’d used every muscle and needed a break. He clung to the dock, trying to catch his breath. At least Maya wasn’t around to laugh at him.
“What are you doing at my dock?” a voice called down to him. “Need help?”
Connor flinched, almost pissing himself. “Just out for a swim, sir.”
“You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re breathing pretty hard and are kind of purple-faced. Any arm pain spreading to your chest?”
Connor bit his tongue so he wouldn’t tell the man to take a hike, and with a smile, pushed off the dock. “Too young for that,” he replied.
“Fifty isn’t too young, son.”
Fifty? He wasn’t even forty. Hell, he was barely in his thirties.
“Thanks.” He rolled onto his front and began paddling hard, determined to show the man who he was in the water. He owned Toronto; he could definitely swim across a simple strait. He was just out of practice, that was all. He could muscle through this; he was young and strong. No problem.
But, man, he was so exhausted. It felt as though his bones were filled with concrete.
He raised his head out of the water to inhale a great breath, and just about rammed into an old rowboat skimming toward him.
“Connor, you okay?” Maya whispered.
“What the hell?” He was barely even off Mr. Heart Attack’s dock, and she’d been around the island already? Sure, the island wasn’t big, but neither was the distance across the strait. Although swimming it made it seem so, that was for damn sure.
Maya raised her voice. “There’s an important call waiting for you at the cottage, Mr. MacKenzie.” She gave a little wave to the man on the dock behind Connor. “Oh, hello, Mr. Frederickson. Lovely morning.”
Connor’s heart rate increased to a level he was sure Dr. Tiang would call indicative of imminent failure. “What?”
“Shut up and get in,” she muttered, hauling him up by the armpits.
He rolled over the gunnel and onto the boat’s bottom, chest heaving with the effort. Maya oared them across the lake as though they weighed nothing. How did she have strength left in her arms to row like that? His felt like a puddle of overcooked noodles.
Back at Nymph Island, Connor crawled onto the dock and forced himself to stand, knowing the neighbor across the way was likely still watching.
“Who’s on the line?” He blinked. His eyes were raw and stinging. He wasn’t going to make it back up the hill to get the call. He fell into a chair, wondering what kind of disaster was waiting for him to solve. Merger cold feet? Laws in the way? Finances not able to be liquidated in time? Someone quit? And why the hell wasn’t someone else dealing with it for him?
Maya hauled the rowboat onto shore and tied it to a tree. “What?” she called to him.
“Who is waiting on the phone?”
She gave him a small frown and shook her head, then hollered up to the cottage, “Okay! We’ll call back in an hour!” She made her way over to the dock and took the seat beside him.
“Who was on the line? I thought there was no phone. Who’s up at the cottage?”
“Nobody, there isn’t, and nobody,” she whispered. “And watch what you say―everything carries across the water.”
“Nobody?” Connor leaned back in his chair. “Wait a second…did you just save me?” How entirely humiliating.
“No, sir.” She looked away, cheeks flushed.
Just when he thought his pride couldn’t fall any further…
“Sorry,” she murmured, her shoulders slumping forward.
“Nah, it’s fine. I can swim again later.”
He gave her a gentle nudge of thanks, his muscles screaming at the effort. She shot him a relieved smile, and some of the anxiety in his aching bones let go. He was going to be okay. He wasn’t sure how, but with Maya looking out for him, good things finally felt possible.
* * *
Connor sat across from Maya at the dining table on the veranda and clasped his hands together, squeezing them tight. He would not work.
He. Would. Not.
He would dump it all on his assistant and focus on those things Dr. Tiang had suggested to expedite his “recovery.” Heck, he might even try a cleanse and some yoga, which Daphne had suggested last night.
But as for the doctor’s suggestions? Connor was already doing well.
Daily physical activity? Check.
No caffeine? Working on it. But hot damn, the thought of warm coffee with cream and sugar was so tempting. and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted it.
No sugar. Damn coffee dreams.
Plenty of sleep? A struggle as always.
No stimulants. No problem. Other than the coffee issue.
No drugs, including over the counter. Never had been a thing for him.
No alcohol. Sucky, but possible.
No stress. Ha, ha. The doctor had a good sense of humor.
No work. Again, an issue. But that was why Maya sat across the table from him, unpacking a blue box from Em.
Connor tapped his fingers along the table’s edge. This was similar to being in a witness relocation program. He knew where his former life was, just wasn’t allow to reach out and contact it.
He mentally consulted the list from the doctor. There was more. What was it?
Meditation. Right. That should be interesting—trying to still his mind.
“I’m going to need fruit and fresh vegetables,” he said to Maya. “Nothing processed.”
“What?” She frowned at him as she finished piling a humongous stack of file folders on the table. Just seeing all those files full of all the things he should be working on, finessing into a finished project, was making his chest ache and his heart act as though it was crossing cobblestones on stilettos.
“No white flour. Or at least in limited quantities. No more coffee or vodka, either.”
“Uh, you know this isn’t exactly…” She bit her bottom lip, obviously worried about how best to proceed. Her demeanor changed suddenly, and she stretched her neck from side to side as though gearing up to tackle someone. “You know what? I’ll do my best.” She pulled up the chair across from him, sat and folded her hands on the table, imitating his pose.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Em gave me copies of the things she feels I will need in the coming two weeks. Can I presume you will be staying for that time?”
He nodded. She was his motivation for getting better, so heck yeah. Not going anywhere but her bed—eventually.
“I went through approximately half of these files last night.”
Connor felt his eyebrows dance up around his hairline. Wow. That was a lot of reading and digesting.
“I have a few questions, but I’ll wait until I read the rest. Although I am curious where you want me to focus the majority of my attention.”
“There should be a master timeline in there for all project completions. It includes checkpoints, deadlines, etc.” He reached across the table to tug at a file, but pulled back before touching it. “Red folder at the bottom.” He clasped his hands behind his neck, struggling with his urge to grab the folder. Maya puttered through the pile and his jaw clenched, perspiration pricking his forehead.
Unable to resist, and knowing it would be so much faster if he did it himself, he lunged forward, yanking the folder from the pile. He flipped it open and stared at the list of dates. Several had been crossed out, their modification dates penciled in above. More should be checked off as complete.
“You got this yesterday?”
“Yes. Em said it was the most up-to-date version.”
They were behind.
He scanned the list. Everything was behind, from a week to two months. He used to complete things ahead of time, eager for the other side to volley the project
back to him. Now he had the mammoth company delaying projects, with a series of departments that all had to have their say before anything could be given the green light.
His breathing became shallow and his fists clenched.
He shut the file, wishing there was a way to slam it closed, lock it. He shoved the folder across to Maya, its contents sliding out as she caught it.
“Top page.”
Connor pushed his chair away from the table. If he went any further he’d get sucked in, hours vanishing as though they’d never existed. Instead of taking a half step forward he would be taking two steps back in his quest to feel like himself again.
His chest started to tingle.
No way.
He stood, putting space between him and the massive pile of work. He needed to be alive. For…for what? To be his brother’s best man. Connor wanted to look good, not the pale, walking corpse he’d seen in the papers yesterday. He wanted to be someone who didn’t disappoint women such as Maya.
That was his goal. Get this sexy nymph in his bed by the end of two weeks. Make her eyes light up at the sight of him, not show disappointment. Feel those curves, give her the best sex of her life.
Doable. Totally doable.
“Start with this?” Maya waved the red folder.
“You’ll figure out the priorities from that, yes.”
“Aren’t you going to be working?” She hesitated, and he wondered how much she knew.
“I’m on vacation. I’m totally hands off. Go through Em for anything you need. Stella is away. My advisors have been notified to give you any info you require.”
“Wow. You guys are super serious about taking time off. I like it. Do you have a health spending account, as well?”
Connor tried to smile, but couldn’t.
“So, if you don’t want to talk business,” she said, palms flat on the table as she leaned forward, her gaze digging deep into his secrets and soul, “why am I here with you?”
“I thought you got good marks in your classes or some such thing?”
“I did. But why wouldn’t you have an assistant do this back in your office?”
“Just the way things worked out, I guess.”
He stepped off the veranda and into the area where Maya had said the ice shed used to be ages ago, wondering if this was all a bad idea. He should have gone somewhere else for his vacation. Yet, he couldn’t imagine being anywhere but here.
There was a narrow trail that led through the rocks and trees to what he guessed was the top of the island. He was curious to see the view was from there, but more than anything, he wanted to get away from Maya and how she was blowing holes in his resolve not to think about work.
Sure, Em may have blurted out why he was in Muskoka, but he doubted it. As far as he knew, Maya was in the dark and would remain there. It may be pride or vanity, but he wanted her to see him become someone strong again. For her to forget the shell he had become. He wanted to no longer be the man losing everything because he’d never really had anything real to begin with.
He turned back to her, an idea striking him. “You’re working here, so I can keep an eye on you, Maya. You’re new. Eager. Likely to make errors. Think of it as a trial period. Normally it would be Stella handling this, but she’s out of the country.”
“But you won’t look at the work, and want me to go through everyone back in Toronto…”
Shoot.
This woman was clever. And determined, like the man he’d been not that long ago. Where had he gone? Was he still there, or had he been swallowed by another one? A guy hell-bent on keeping his head above water while he treaded in quicksand?
Maya was searching his face for an answer.
“Just get it done.”
He took a few steps up the hill and she called after him, “But this isn’t the most effective use of—”
Just shut up, already.
“Consider it a job interview,” he snapped, and her back straightened as if someone had inserted a rod. She gave a brisk nod, her nose diving into the files.
He looked up into the baby-blue sky. Why? Why him, stuck here with her? He couldn’t make love to her and couldn’t talk business with her. This was the worst version of hell. Ever.
CHAPTER 6
Maya frowned and reread the brief on an acquisition Connor’s advisor, James Culver, was spearheading. Grabbing her laptop, she did a few quick online searches. This acquisition made no sense. It was totally out of character for Connor’s business. Was he suddenly branching out? Changing direction?
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she filled in any holes that had been created by those on vacation—namely, Connor and Stella. Maya sucked on the end of her pen, wondering what it would be like to work so closely with Connor. Had Stella fallen for him the way she had? All that power, control, and confidence. How could a woman not fall for that? And Stella probably knew everything about him, which meant she could quite possibly be competition. His assistant had almost a decade of experience as Connor’s right-hand woman, and who was Maya? Nothing but some eager upstart wanting in, and with a massive crush on a man who didn’t seem to exist any longer.
She looked up from where she had the files spread on the veranda table. Connor had gone stomping off into the bush almost two hours earlier, and was just returning. He was sweaty, sleepy-eyed as though he’d had a nap, and staring at her with an odd expression.
“What?” she asked.
He tipped his head in a way that made the warm July sunshine wink off the shine of his hair. He moved toward her, his eyes averted from the table, slipping into the kitchen as though he expected her to reach out and tackle him.
Weird.
She returned her attention to the files. She still wasn’t sure what she was supposed to be doing.
“Connor?”
“Yeah?” He appeared at the screen door, the room behind him dark in contrast.
“Am I supposed to be checking your email?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.” She gave a nod, encouraging him to say more. “Um, anything I should avoid?”
“Emails from my mom.”
Maya froze. Were personal emails going to be mixed in with business ones?
“I’m kidding. She sends her jokes to my home account.”
“Should I be checking any other accounts, as well?”
He shook his head. He looked weary, but at the same time, there was something new in him. Determination. Hope. Resolve.
Wowzers. That was a sexy look on him.
“If you want to meet with anyone while you’re here, I can set things up,” she offered.
“What do you mean?”
“Business meetings. Conference calls.”
“I’m on vacation.” His voice was sharp.
“Sorry. I wasn’t sure—”
“I’ll tell you if I need anything.” Connor spun on his heel and vanished into the shadows.
Maya pressed her fingers to her temples and let out a long, slow breath. Wow. She grabbed her cell phone and checked its signal. Nope. She’d have to go up the hill Connor had just come down if she wanted to talk to Em.
Grabbing a few files, a notebook and pen, she headed up the narrow path.
It had been awhile since she’d been up here and she smiled at the fairy houses her niece, Tigger, had created since then. They were getting more elaborate the farther she went, ending with one made of birch bark, acorns and tiny pine boughs, featuring a sand path to its door. If there really were fairies on Nymph Island, they were living in some pretty nice digs.
Maya sat on a rock, enjoying the sun’s warmth. Although the cottage didn’t have air conditioning, the shade of the large pines and maples helped it stay cool, sometimes, too cool.
“Hello, Connor MacKenzie’s office, Em speaking.”
“Hi Em, it’s Maya.”
“What do you need?”
“I’m wondering about the sawmill acquisition.”
�
��The lumberyard James is working on, yes?”
“What exactly am I supposed to be doing?”
“Have you worked on an acquisition before?”
“Um, no.”
Em let out a sigh. “Okay, well, have you at least read the files?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And it seems odd that he wants this behemoth, don’t you think? It isn’t at all like Connor’s usual acquisitions.”
“And you know his usual acquisitions?”
“I’ve followed his career in the papers, so yes, I believe I have a pretty good feel for what type of things he likes to acquire.”
“Well, his advisors wanted him to branch out and diversify his portfolio, so just move things along as they come through.”
“Right. Tough market at the moment.”
“Yes. So? What is it you need, Maya?”
“What should I be doing?”
“Have you kept up on his email?”
“No, not yet.”
“Then call back when you’re done.” Slight pause. “So I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“But it’s only two-thirty.”
“I’m guessing that account hadn’t been checked in about four days. Have fun.”
Maya clicked off her phone, noting a patch of trampled grass to her right where Connor must have hung out while he was up here. What had he done the whole time? Stared at the sun? Slept? She turned to face the lake. Maybe he’d just sucked in the view. It was a nice one.
Using the data on her cell phone, she logged into Connor’s email system.
She swallowed hard. Five hundred thirty-three unread emails.
Maya began scrolling through them, reading names of individuals she’d only dreamed of contacting. There were invitations to cocktail events. Interoffice memos. Newsletters. Ongoing conversations. Where should she start?
