Gentle Persuasion

by Cerella Sechrist

  “You’re offended,” he stated.

  She clamped down harder on her cheek until she could formulate a proper response. “Not at all. I understand your prejudices may prevent you from seeing a clear picture of my life.”

  Or in other words, she thought, You don’t know me. Stop acting like you do.

  His genuine laughter caused her to relax a bit. “Maybe you’re right,” he admitted. “But how do you justify what you’re doing here, with me?”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “What if I don’t want you to place me in my ‘dream role,’ as you put it. What if I’m perfectly happy and fulfilled right here, in my current everyday life?”

  She looked away again, unable to form an immediate response to this question. She spotted Leilani in the midst of her friends. Sam’s arm rested protectively around her shoulders, and Ophelia felt a strange twinge of jealousy. Not for Sam, who was handsome enough but far too young for Ophelia’s interest, but rather for the ease the two young lovers clearly felt around each other.

  “Did I touch a nerve?”

  Dane’s voice drew her attention back.

  “Of course not,” she replied. “It’s only that your situation is unique. Your high profile has made you a target—a trophy of sorts. Everyone wants to be the person who brings you back because then, perhaps some of your greatness will rub off on them.”

  He grunted with what sounded like annoyance. “You really do enjoy flattering me, don’t you, Miss Reid?”

  Something inside her shifted at these words. She rolled her eyes. “Hardly. Thus far, Mr. Montgomery, you have proven to be rather unworthy of flattery. You have been rude to the point of caustic, and your behavior seems to be based solely on your prejudice for my profession. You don’t even know me, so I hardly think you have the right to judge me.”

  Dane’s eyebrows had shot up during this little speech, and from her peripheral vision, she noted a few stares turning their way.

  “Furthermore, concerning my remarks that you seem so intent on labeling as ‘flattery,’ might I remind you that for all your so-called brilliance in the corporate world, your latest venture is on the verge of bankruptcy. If you find my conversation to be obsequious, I can assure you that I am not attempting to ingratiate myself with you. In fact, if your coffee plantation fails, I may be the last recruiter you ever see. So enjoy skewing my words while you can. You may never get another chance to do so.”

  With that, she stood to her feet, noticed that every one of Sam and Leilani’s friends had fallen silent and felt a rush of embarrassment. Turning on her heel, she stomped off down the beach, cursing her inappropriate clothes and wondering how she was going to explain her failure to her mother.

  The farther she walked, the more distressed she became. She rarely lost her temper in such a manner—she had long ago taught herself to remain composed in every situation. Lillian demanded it. And now, on only her second day, she had allowed Dane Montgomery’s ego to get the better of her. Stupid! She could just imagine her mother’s cold disapproval when she returned to New York several days early and without Dane. Paris would remain a distant dream on the horizon. Cole would be sickeningly sympathetic. She might even face demotion.

  She was just considering whether her mother would actually fire her over this failure when she heard footsteps pounding on the sand behind her. Looking over her shoulder, she realized that in her distress, she had walked quite a distance down the beach. But the figure coming up on her was the last she had expected to see—Dane Montgomery slowed to a walk as she stopped in her tracks.

  “You didn’t need to run off,” he said.

  Somehow, this statement ruffled her feathers all over again. “You can’t tell me what to do—I’m not one of your inn’s staff.” It sounded ridiculously petulant, even to her own ears.

  But to her surprise, Dane chuckled. “Thank God for that. I have no idea what I’d do with you if you were.”

  She blinked. “Are you insulting me? Because I really don’t think—”

  “Not at all,” Dane hastened to say. “On the contrary...I may have had that speech coming.” He considered. “Well, maybe not all of it. After all, you’re the one who came here trying to drag me back to a life I left behind. And you have to admit that you really aren’t taking my ‘no’ very well. Besides, throwing money at the situation is pretty insulting in itself, wouldn’t you agree?”

  Ophelia narrowed her eyes. “If this is an apology, I’ve heard better.”

  He sighed elaborately and ran a hand through his hair. The moonlight cast his face in softly sad lines, the sharp cut of his frown standing out in stark contrast. Ophelia felt a sudden and unexpected tug of sympathy for him. How many times must he tell the world to leave him alone before they listened? No wonder his reception of her had been cool. She should feel fortunate he hadn’t been outright hostile, given the constant intrusions to his private life, especially considering all he faced with his current financial situation.

  “We’ve gotten off to an abominable start, haven’t we?” she remarked.

  He looked startled as he shifted his eyes her way. “To put it mildly,” he replied with the faintest twitch of his lips.

  She drew a breath. “I know it must be difficult for you,” she conceded, “with strangers prying into your life every couple of months and attempting to pull you in a different direction.”

  He said nothing, but she noticed he had gone very still, his eyes intent on her.

  “I’m not your enemy, Dane. What you do with your life is your own choice. But please try to accept that I’m in a difficult position, as well. Perhaps we could just call a truce and try to see the next few days out in peace?”

  He remained wary, still eyeing her carefully. “And at the end of it? What will you do if I still don’t want to go back?”

  She didn’t answer him immediately, considering everything she would lose if he didn’t return with her. The weight of that responsibility rested heavily on her shoulders, but she forced herself to lift them into a casual shrug. “We’ll worry about that when my time here is through.”

  He continued to size her up, and the longer he studied her, the more grateful she was for the twilight so that it could camouflage the blush she knew must be staining her cheeks.

  “You never answered my question,” he finally said. “On why you spoke up for me today with Masters.”

  She swallowed, shifting her gaze from the intensity of his to look out over the diamond-cut waves glittering in the moonlight.

  “Because...” She drew in a breath and then released it. “Because no one should be forced into giving up on their dreams.”

  She looked back to find his head cocked, his expression much softer than she’d seen it at any point during her trip thus far.

  “Do you speak from experience, Ms. Reid?”

  She tried to shift the subject away from her. “Why not apply for a loan with a local bank and clear your debt to Masters that way?”

  His frown deepened. “I tried that—it seems Masters isn’t the only one who doubts that my corporate skills will carry a venture such as coffee farming.”

  “And using the plantation as collateral?”

  “The market is already saturated with properties, what with the state of the economy. Apparently, I’m a high risk.”

  Now it was her turn to frown. It sounded as if Dane Montgomery had truly found himself with his back against the wall.

  He paused before bowing slightly and gesturing toward the bonfire some distance behind them. “Would you like to return to the party?”

  With a nod of acknowledgment, Ophelia stepped past him and began heading back the way she’d come. As she passed Dane, however, she noted a different glint in his eye, a spark of kindled interest.

  She only hoped it could work in her
favor during this upcoming week.

  * * *

  DANE WATCHED OPHELIA step ahead of him down the beach on their way back to the bonfire. He found himself distracted by the golden sheen of her hair, rich as burnished gold in the tropical luminescence. He considered her statement that no one should have to give up on their dreams. These mysterious words had woken a curiosity in him. What were Ophelia Reid’s dreams? He’d never considered such a question of all the other recruiters who had come before her.

  But then, none of the others had possessed her unique charm, either. How many would have shot Masters down in such a manner, especially when the man’s suggestion of a partnership supported Ophelia’s goals? Accepting the Towers job held the possibility to give both this recruiter and his neighbor exactly what they wanted. But Ophelia hadn’t played Masters’s game. Instead, she had taken Dane’s side even if it wasn’t in line with her quest.

  He had to confess that such a move was either highly calculated on her part or revealed a depth of character he hadn’t seen in some time—perhaps ever. The thought appealed to him, and he found himself wondering just what kind of person Ophelia Reid was—cool and calculating as her mother’s own reputation suggested or was there something softer and more understanding in her nature? He knew it was best to keep his guard up where his inn’s guest was concerned.

  Coupled with his growing financial concerns surrounding the plantation, Ophelia Reid’s presence was more than a little dangerous to his endeavors. He couldn’t deny the attraction he felt toward her, and the uncertainty of his future made her proposal more tempting than he would like. Yet he did not want to give up on his dreams here in Hawaii. Nor did he wish for his awareness of Ophelia Reid to be heightened. Doubt and desire were a dangerous mix.

  Just then, Ophelia glanced over her shoulder, catching his eye as they approached the bonfire, its fiery light illuminating her from behind with a soft glow. She cast him a friendly smile, as if to seal their truce, and he found his breath caught in his chest at the sight.

  He swallowed and attempted a neutral expression in response.

  Ophelia Reid might be dangerous, indeed.

  * * *

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING when Ophelia came downstairs, she found Dane already waiting for her. He was dressed casually, in khaki slacks and a plain black T-shirt. Ophelia couldn’t help noticing how well the dark shirt complemented his island-bronzed skin, revealing the cords of muscle in his forearms. It was only when his arms lifted and crossed over his chest that she realized she’d been staring at them.

  “Good morning,” he greeted, and she fought a flush as she tore her gaze away from his physique and to his face.

  “G-good morning.” Her glance flickered from his bemused expression and toward the dining room.

  “Am I...late for breakfast?”

  “Not at all. I was actually thinking we could eat breakfast on the way.”

  “On the way?”

  “To Honaunau. As part of our arrangement,” he prompted.

  She broke into a smile as understanding dawned. “You’re taking me sightseeing.”

  He gave a short nod and then his eyes dropped, inching slowly up from her designer shoes, past her slacks, over her button-down shirt and back to her face, which she knew must be bright red, considering how hot it felt after his intense perusal.

  “Did you pack anything other than business suits for this trip?” Disapproval colored his tone, and she chafed at the sound.

  “My travel plans were a bit unexpected,” she defended. “I didn’t have time to shop for anything more appropriate.”

  He stared at her in disbelief. “You mean you don’t have a pair of shorts or jeans in your entire wardrobe?”

  She frowned, imagining what her mother would think, seeing her daughter sporting shorts. Even as a teenager, Lillian’s dress code for her daughter hadn’t permitted anything quite so casual.

  “I...I...” She was at a loss.

  “Please tell me you at least have a swimsuit along.”

  “Of course!” She latched on to this. “It’s upstairs. In my suitcase.” She didn’t feel the need to explain the suit belonged to Holly, who had insisted she bring it along. Ophelia had emphasized the business nature of this trip, but Holly had told her she never knew when it might come in handy. She made a mental reminder to buy Holly something extremely nice for Christmas.

  “And what about the rest of your attire?” Dane pressed. “Did you bring anything that could be worn outside of the office?”

  She ground her teeth together and glared, not bothering to answer.

  “Ah. All right, then.”

  She found his amusement infuriating.

  “Leilani is in the office with Keahi. Let’s ask her if she has anything that might fit you.”

  The idea of sharing Leilani’s clothes alarmed Ophelia initially. She had visions of herself in cutoff jean shorts and midriff-baring tops such as the one the younger girl had been wearing the first night she and Ophelia had met. But Leilani’s tastes proved to be far more diverse than simple weekend attire. Within thirty minutes, Ophelia emerged downstairs once more, sporting olive-green capris and a crisp, white camp-style shirt. She had brushed her hair up into a ponytail, its ends swishing against her neck as she landed on the bottom step.

  Something about the casual dress and the feel of her hair off her face left her delightfully buoyant and carefree. She couldn’t remember the last time she had experienced such a feeling.

  She decided her effervescent emotions must have been evident in her expression because when Dane looked up from where he’d been leaning over the receptionist desk, his jaw slackened in seeming surprise.

  Approaching the reception area, she cast a glance down at her borrowed outfit. “Will this do?”

  Dane made a noise, deep in his throat, which caused her eyes to jerk back up. He snapped his mouth closed and coughed. “Um, sure...that will do just fine.”

  His gaze swept over her once more. “Leilani didn’t have any shoes in your size?”

  Ophelia curled her toes beneath her self-consciously and held up the pair of shoes she’d been holding. “She gave me some flip-flops that are too big for her.”

  “That’ll work.” Dane’s face had retreated back into casual passivity. “Are you ready to go?”

  She nodded.

  “Then let’s head out.”

  * * *

  OPHELIA DIDN’T CHATTER endlessly throughout the drive as Dane feared she might. She seemed content to look out the window, asking the occasional question about the highway along the coast in between bites of the banana muffins and sips of the Kona coffee Pele had provided.

  He found himself hard-pressed to keep his eyes on the road as he navigated his Jeep down the mountain and toward the coast. The morning breeze filled the interior of the cab, teasing his senses with the fresh scents of island dew, warm banana muffins and the floral notes of Ophelia’s shampoo. He had noticed its pleasant smell when he’d held the passenger-side door open for her as they’d prepared to leave the plantation. Now, it wafted under his nose, causing him to work doubly hard in focusing on the road before them.

  “So where are we headed?” Ophelia finally asked as she brushed muffin crumbs from her lap.

  Dane’s stare rose from her hands to her inquisitive gaze. She seemed truly interested in the day’s outing, he realized. On some level, he had assumed her desire to tour the area was feigned, and this dawning recognition of her genuine anticipation warmed him until he actually felt a smile stealing its way across his mouth.

  “Pu’uhonua O Hōnaunau,” he answered.

  “Now say it three times fast,” she said.

  He laughed, pleased at her quick response. “Pu’uhonua O Hōnaunau,” he repeated, “means Place of Refuge at Hōnaunau.”

  “O
kay, so what is it, then, this Place of Refuge?”

  “It stood as a safe haven for ancient Hawaiians. It could be used in times of war as a sanctuary for either side of the conflict. The old native religion was filled with all these laws, and to violate one of those sacred commandments often meant death. The Hawaiians called it breaking kapu.”

  Dane had been looking at the road in front of him, but he stole a glance away now to see Ophelia’s eyes trained on his face. She appeared engrossed in his words, and he felt a swell of gratification as he turned his attention back to the highway.

  “If someone broke kapu, the act rendered them a criminal, and the only way to escape execution was if they could swim the shark-infested waters of Honaunau Bay and reach the walls of the temple grounds before their pursuers caught up with them. If they managed that, the priests would take them in and feed them, sheltering them in the heiau, the temple, for a couple days so they could be kept under the protection of the gods, who were the spirits of ancient chiefs.”

  Dane slid another quick glance at Ophelia and saw her absorbing this explanation. “What happened if their pursuers came after them into the temple?”

  He shook his head. “It was forbidden to spill blood within the boundaries of the Pu’uhonua O Hōnaunau. The refugees couldn’t be touched as long as they remained there.”

  “And once they left?”

  “Supposedly, the protection of the gods went with them. Although I’m sure not every story had a happy ending.”

  Dane rounded a curve as he sensed Ophelia shifting in her seat. “Like Esmeralda in The Hunchback of Notre Dame, when she claims sanctuary in the cathedral to escape Frollo.”

  He glanced her way. “You’re a fan of the classics?”

  “Not the classics, per se. I grew up in Paris. I’ve been to Notre Dame several times. Hugo’s novel was a favorite obsession of mine as a teenager.”

  Dane searched his memory, trying to recall any references he had heard of Lillian Reid having ties in Paris. He could recall none.