by Olivia Dade
Nope. Not ambling down that particular mental road.
It didn’t matter how good a conversationalist he was. As her aggravation with him had grown, she’d stopped talking to him unless work required it. Because having all his careful attention, all his decency and kindness, directed her way somehow felt even worse than if he’d been a dick.
If he’d been a dick, her anger wouldn’t feel so petty. If he’d been a dick, she might have mustered the courage to complain, either to him or to a supervisor. But he was a good man. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, she didn’t want to get him in trouble, and she didn’t want to borrow conflict or seem high-maintenance at a place where she’d only worked for six months.
Just the thought of confronting him made her itch.
So she was stuck. Frustrated and lonely and sad, but silent.
Irene interrupted her thoughts. “I think we’re good here.”
“What…” Callie swallowed, too nervous to hope. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’ve convinced me. You’re into this dude, no question about it. We can make this work.”
Wow. She was an excellent liar. Who knew?
“Have him fill out the online application tonight. We’ll do the interview and take some pictures when you arrive at the first island.” Cowan sounded distracted, and Callie could hear a tapping sound, as if he were taking notes. “I’ll update the tickets and reservations and send you all the confirmation messages as soon as I can.”
Her eyes were swimming again, and she wiped them against the sleeve of her blouse.
She’d done it. Oh, God, she’d done it.
Next week, she’d be digging her toes into white sand and splashing in the surf, allowing the water to erode all her worries as she luxuriated in the best trip of her life.
That is, if she could convince Thomas to abandon his previous vacation plans, lie on cable television, and spend an entire week in close proximity with a coworker who hadn’t talked to him for several months.
Oh, God, she hadn’t done it. Not really. Not yet.
She didn’t need to blink back happy tears anymore. Her eyes were as dry and gritty as that imaginary white sand. “Got it. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“One last thing.” Cowan was silent for a moment. “I’m choosing to believe that you and Thomas McKinney are a couple, because I like you. And, to be frank, because cancelling your trip would mess up the entire Island Match schedule for the rest of the season. But there will be cameras on you almost constantly for days. If you’re lying…”
When he paused again, she squeezed her eyes shut, shame suffusing her cheeks with heat.
Finally, he sighed. “If you’re lying, Callie, do it well.”
Chapter Two
“So I told them you were my boyfriend.” Callie fiddled with a strand of her dark hair, her face twisted into a grimace. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dragged you into my issues.”
Thomas blinked at her, startled and somewhat confused, but not unhappy.
Nope. Not at all.
Callie and Andre had broken up. Finally. She’d said the split was a long time coming, and Thomas had to concur. To him, it had felt like centuries. Millennia.
Apparently, Thomas and Callie were also going to spend a week together in various tropical paradises. While being filmed, from what he understood. And while those weren’t necessarily optimal circumstances for wooing such a mercurial woman, they were certainly better than reading in his condo while she cavorted on the beach with her ex.
As far as he knew, he hadn’t tossed a coin into an enchanted well, procured a potion from a witch, or fondled a lamp of mysterious provenance. But he could think of no other plausible explanation for these miraculous turns of events, so maybe he’d missed something.
Most importantly, Callie had stopped crying, and that was enough to set his world aright once more. He could wait for clarity on everything else.
That said, he should probably determine a few key facts before they proceeded.
“Let me make sure I understand the situation.” He leaned against his hybrid’s sun-heated hood in the stifling humidity of the library lot. “Next week, we’re flying to three islands for one night each. And then we’ll choose one of those islands for the last three nights of our trip.”
She nodded. “Whichever one is our favorite.”
“And HATV will film us in the belief that we’re a couple.”
Her nod was a bit more tentative that time. “Yes.”
“Did we…” He hated to ask. It made him sound like a dunce, and he didn’t think even he could have missed such a crucial development. But he needed to know for sure. “Did we agree to date at some point?”
If so, he had no memory of it happening. And when Callie spoke to him, looked at him, or hell, just breathed in his general direction, she captured his full and utterly devoted attention in a way no other woman ever had.
So he’d probably remember if they’d talked about dating.
Callie was shaking her head so hard, she had to be giving herself a headache. “No. No. God, no. You were just nearby, single, and on vacation next week, so I thought you’d be a good candidate for the job.”
Too bad. Learning that he’d won her affections while in a fugue state of some sort would have been convenient. But no matter. He had a week to do the job while completely conscious.
“Thomas…” She was nibbling on that plump lower lip, a signature gesture that had caused him to fumble various writing implements over the past six months. “I should’ve asked you before saying anything to them. But I just”—her inhalation turned shaky, her eyes shiny, and he would have torn apart the concrete parking lot with his bare hands to assuage her distress—“I just need this vacation. So badly. Can you possibly play along with me? Or did you already have plans? I know this was meant to be your summer break.”
“I wasn’t doing anything important.” He shrugged. “I’d planned to read about the influenza pandemic during World War I, but that can wait.”
Her eyes grew bright in a different, better way. “Last year, I read The Great Influenza, and I really appreciated Barry’s discussion of—” She stopped herself. “Never mind. That’s not the point right now. Are you really agreeing to go along with my stupid plan?”
“Not stupid.” Reaching out, he touched her elbow. Just for a moment, through the silky barrier of her blouse, but the contact still dizzied him. “Ingenious, given the urgency of the situation. And yes, I’m agreeing to your plan.”
Her lips parted, and she stared up at him for a moment. “I can’t believe you said yes.”
Any opportunity he could find to spend time with her, he’d take. Even if it meant relinquishing his favorite morning shifts to work in the afternoons and evenings. Even if it meant attending work gatherings at noisy, overcrowded bars. Even if it meant spending a week on camera and possibly making a fool of himself in front of a cable-television-viewing audience.
When Callie Adesso began working at the CMRL, the axis of his life shifted. From what he could tell, that shift appeared absolute and irrevocable.
And she’d been dating another man the entire time they’d known one another, until now.
If that relationship had been going awry for quite some time, as she’d said, maybe that would explain her seeming unhappiness the last few months. Because she didn’t smile at him the same way she once did, and they didn’t laugh and talk before or after their shifts anymore.
He hadn’t understood it. But maybe this unexpected trip would explain everything.
Even better: Maybe this unexpected trip would change everything.
“Believe it,” he told her.
Desire and the Deep Blue Sea is coming July 18, 2019! For news and updates, sign up for my newsletter, the Hussy Herald:
https://go.oliviadade.com/Newsletter
About Olivia
While I was growing up, my mother kept a stack of books hidden in her closet. She told m
e I couldn't read them. So, naturally, whenever she left me alone for any length of time, I took them out and flipped through them. Those books raised quite a few questions in my prepubescent brain. Namely: 1) Why were there so many pirates? 2) Where did all the throbbing come from? 3) What was a “manhood”? 4) And why did the hero and heroine seem overcome by images of waves and fireworks every few pages, especially after an episode of mysterious throbbing in the hero's manhood?
* * *
Thirty or so years later, I have a few answers. 1) Because my mom apparently fancied pirates at that time. Now she hoards romances involving cowboys and babies. If a book cover features a shirtless man in a Stetson cradling an infant, her ovaries basically explode and her credit card emerges. 2) His manhood. Also, her womanhood. 3) It's his “hard length,” sometimes compared in terms of rigidity to iron. 4) Because explaining how an orgasm feels can prove difficult. Or maybe the couples all had sex on New Year's Eve at Cancun.
* * *
During those thirty years, I accomplished a few things. I graduated from Wake Forest University and earned my M.A. in American History from the University of Wisconsin-Madison. I worked at a variety of jobs that required me to bury my bawdiness and potty mouth under a demure exterior: costumed interpreter at Colonial Williamsburg, high school teacher, and librarian. But I always, always read romances. Funny, filthy, sweet—it didn't matter. I loved them all.
* * *
Now I'm writing my own romances with the encouragement of my husband and daughter. I have my own stack of books in my closet that I'd rather my daughter not read, at least not for a few years. I can swear whenever I want, except around said daughter. And I get to spend all day writing about love and iron-hard lengths.
* * *
So thank you, Mom, for perving so hard on pirates during my childhood. I owe you.
If you want to find me online, here’s where to go!
Website: https://oliviadade.com
Newsletter: https://go.oliviadade.com/Newsletter
Acknowledgments
This is the first book I wrote after arriving in Sweden, and also the first book I wrote with the express intent of self-publishing it. I wanted to get everything right, so I leaned shamelessly on so many of my friends as I drafted, revised, and readied it for publication.
Before I even began, Tamsen Parker generously provided crucial guidance for one of my main characters. Then a glorious cabal of women kept me motivated and writing via Twitter DM, even as I adjusted to life on a new continent: Therese Beharrie, Aislinn Kearns, Melanie Ting, Lynn Shannon, and Ainslie Paton. Once I had a completed draft, Kate Clayborn, Emma Barry, Margrethe Martin, Gwendolen Crane, and Ainslie (again!) read what I’d written and nudged me toward the best possible version of this story. Cecilia Grant, Sionna Fox, and Zoe York ably helped me get the manuscript ready for the world. In fact, without Zoe’s patient introduction to and guidance through Indie Land, I’d have been totally lost. And finally, Lori Carter’s adorable, gorgeous cover brought my characters to life in a way I hadn’t even let myself hope for.
Thank you to all those friends and helpers. I don’t know how I would have survived those first, difficult months in Sweden without you, and I don’t know how I would have written this book without you either.
And throughout everything, my family loved me and believed in me and supported my writing. That means everything to me. Everything.
