Like One of the Family

by Kimberly Van Meter

  Man, when he thought of how many nights he’d stayed awake thinking about Lora…good God. It made him sick to think of all that wasted time.

  Shaking off the memory with effort, he exhaled and walked from the water, startling Lora with his appearance, as he headed for the towel he’d hung on a tree. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open as an involuntary, gasped squeak gave away her distress.

  Probably because he was nude.

  * * *

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Lora managed to blurt out, squeezing her eyes shut and wishing she could scrub her brain but it was no use, nothing would erase what she’d seen—Heath in all his morning glory—and she was fairly certain she was scarred for life. A growing heat in the center of her belly caused her to squirm as disquiet at her own reaction made her want to run away. But she couldn’t very well turn tail and run like a scared little rabbit just because she’d happened to catch Heath in his birthday suit. His wasn’t the first penis she’d ever seen, for crying out loud. But… she thought miserably, clenching her fists at her sides, she’d be a liar if she’d said she’d seen a larger one. Admitting such a thing made her want to grind her eyes out—and her brain—for even allowing the unfortunate observation. “This is a private beach…with guests. Please put some clothes on!”

  Heath’s chuckle caused her to turn and glare. Thankfully, he’d wrapped the towel around his middle, covering his offending nudity, but oddly he looked twice as attractive as before—did she say attractive? No, she meant…distracting—and her breath caught unnecessarily in her chest. “What if a guest had stumbled across your early-morning swim? Did you think of that? Need I remind you we’re trying to save Larimar, not scare away the income source.”

  “Calm down,” he said, that damnable half smirk on his face. “I do this all the time. No one is up when I go out and because it is private, no one bothers me. Besides, you can’t tell me you never went skinny-dipping in your life?”

  “That wasn’t my thing,” she replied stiffly, hating how prudish she sounded. Sexually, she was as adventurous as the next person, perhaps even more so, but she had no wish to prove herself on that score with Heath. Just the idea made her intensely uncomfortable.

  “Ah, that’s right. That was Lindy who was always looking for an excuse to run around naked,” he said, with the hint of a tease in his voice. She looked at him sharply, hating the idea of Heath looking at her sister with anything more than friendly attention and he shook his head at her narrowed stare of accusation. “No, Lora,” he said, sighing as he did a quick shake of his head to clear the water from his ear. “I never thought of Lindy or Lilah that way. To me, they’re like my sisters. If anything I was always chasing the boys away from the twins. You don’t remember?”

  Lora did a surreptitious search of her memory for something that supported that statement and when she came up with nothing, she gave a small shrug as if it didn’t matter one way or another. “Whatever, Heath. Let’s start over,” she suggested, simply happy to return the conversation to business, which was more in line with her comfort level. “I’ve been thinking about everything that was said yesterday and—” she drew a deep breath “—it would seem that working together to solve this problem is the best course of action given your business arrangement with Pops is so tightly bound to Larimar’s operations.” She couldn’t help the tiny strain of reproach that coated her words—she was still angry with him—but he appeared to let it slide and simply nodded. She continued, grudgingly giving him silent props for not taking the bait. “So, if your schedule allows, I’d like to set up a meeting sometime today so we can go over some plans to fix this mess.”

  “I’ll check my calendar,” he said.

  She frowned. “Well, I assume it is your top priority as well as mine to get this figured out.”

  “Of course.”

  “Oh. Okay,” she said, not quite sure what to make of Heath’s answers. He was saying the right thing but she sensed something else beneath the words. “I was thinking early afternoon, say, two o’clock?” she suggested. He surprised her with a counter offer.

  “How about lunch?”

  “Lunch?”

  “Yeah, you do eat, right?”

  “Of course I do. I just don’t know why we can’t meet in the office…”

  “Because I think better when I have food in front of me,” he said, his answer immediately causing a memory of that undernourished, starving boy to crowd her mind. She ruthlessly pushed it away but offered a terse “Fine. Lunch. Rush Tide Bar and Grill?”

  “The Wild Donkey,” he countered.

  “That’s where the locals hang out,” she said, not happy about his suggestion.

  He stared at her with a faintly sardonic expression. “Aren’t you local?”

  Not for a long time. She swallowed, hating the fact that he was pointing out how apart she’d made herself over the years. But to admit that was to admit a weakness, that she’d allowed something to have power over her. She lifted her chin with a shrug. “Fine. But if it ends up being too loud and we can’t hear ourselves think, you’re buying.”

  He lifted two fingers to his forehead in a mock salute and said, “See you at lunch, then. Bring your appetite. Boiled bananas are on the special today.”

  He walked away, his calf muscles straining as he climbed the short hill in the soft shifting sand. She couldn’t help but stare and not because his body was worth staring at—even though it was—but because she loved boiled bananas.

  And somehow, she had the sinking suspicion he had remembered.

  CHAPTER SIX

  LILAH DUG HER TOES IN the warm sand and used a tiny stick to idly doodle while her thoughts did an excellent job of preventing any peace.

  Having her sister home should be a joyous time of reunions, laughter and reminiscing, right?

  Instead the arrival of her sister caused turmoil and a twisted stomach. As if on cue, her gut gurgled and she sighed. She tossed the stick and gazed out at the calm, azure ocean, watching the sailboats in the distance rounding St. Thomas or heading off to St. Croix. She’d never understood her sisters’ need to escape the island. Here she knew peace and the island pace suited her perfectly. She ate papaya and fresh coconut for breakfast, swam in the afternoon and sunned like a lizard on a rock until she felt a tad overheated and then jumped back in the water. What wasn’t to love? She particularly enjoyed the secluded nature of the island. It was only a twenty-minute ferry ride from St. Thomas and everyone knew everyone in the tight-knit community.

  But Lora had always felt apart from the islanders, even though they’d lived there since they were little kids. She and Lindy had easily adapted whereas Lora had been uncomfortably distant with anyone who’d tried to make a connection.

  Lilah loved her sister but there was a gap between them that as time had gone on had only widened. Now with the pressure of Lora’s disappointment between them as well, that gap was nearly as wide as the ocean. Lilah rose and dusted the sand from her behind and walked straight into the surf before diving cleanly into the still tepid water. She swam with languid strokes, in no hurry or rush, the movement of her arms and legs through the water soothing her like a mother’s caress.

  She didn’t know how to mend the situation with Lora.

  She didn’t know how to help save Larimar.

  She didn’t know how she’d ever manage to measure up to her superstar sisters.

  But for the moment—she didn’t care.

  * * *

  THE ONE THING ABOUT BEING on a Caribbean island that was sorely different from living in the Windy City was that getting ready to go out was shockingly simple. There was no need for makeup or complicated and fussy hairdos because within minutes the wicked humidity would have all your attention to vanity sliding down your face. And that same humidity made you so hot and stic
ky that wearing anything more than the barest of clothing was terribly ill-advised.

  So dressing for her so-called business meeting with Heath was easy—a tank top and a light gauzy skirt, but she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit to hesitating before the mirror wondering if she ought to put some effort into taming her wild hair. It was too hot to care, a voice said and she plainly agreed, but without her usual power accessories—the tailored business suit that clung to her curves like it was drawn on her body, the perfectly coiffed hairstyle, and the designer heels that cost more than any shoe ever should—she felt woefully vulnerable.

  Added to that, the memory of Heath’s naked body continued to badger her, popping into her mind at the most inopportune moments. Such as when she was in the shower, sliding the loofah soaped with lavender shower gel, inadvertently touching herself with more than a perfunctory scrub.

  Her cheeks heated. Yes, that was a problem, she noted with a flush of irritation. She wasn’t accustomed to discussing business across the table from someone whom she’d seen naked only hours before.

  Had her gaze lingered? She’d thought that she’d jerked her stare away as if scalded but her mind was recalling every detail with the accuracy of a high resolution graphic.

  Oh, gracious. It was readily apparent she’d gone too long without a lover. Her hormones were playing tricks on her brain. With that thought in mind, she raked her hair up to twist into a messy bun. It was too hot to have it down, she realized, and if she hadn’t spent so much time considering the possibilities of her hairstyle, she would’ve come to that conclusion easily.

  Except a tiny, infinitesimal part of her had noted how Heath’s attention had been drawn to her hair—the look in his eyes betraying him as easily as if he’d admitted he was mesmerized by the dark mass and longed to bury his nose against her scalp. She gave a little involuntary shudder and it wasn’t entirely one of disapproval. No…unfortunately, it smacked of something more akin to desire, arousal and need.

  And that didn’t bode well at all.

  * * *

  HEATH ARRIVED AT THE WILD Donkey a few minutes late, which by island time was actually considered early. Although judging by the stiff set of shoulders and tight jaw, clearly Lora didn’t remember that fact about island life. He could’ve been on time, truth be told, he enjoyed messing with her just a bit. The woman needed to loosen up and, for God’s sake, take that stick out of her ass.

  “You order yet?” he asked, waving and smiling to some familiar faces before sitting across from Lora. Damn her, she was gorgeous. Her glorious hair was twisted into a messy knot at the back of her head but the balmy air had taken hold of the tendrils and curled them against her jawline, softening the angular lines of that classically beautiful face. Everyone had always thought Lindy was the hot sister, followed closely by Lilah because they both had that certain something about them that drew people, but he’d always thought people were clearly blind. Lora was simply stunning.

  “No, I was waiting for you,” she answered, clearly uncomfortable in the surroundings. Her gaze darted from one person to another, unsure of herself and the situation. He found her discomfort faintly amusing. A casual observer might think she was a tourist who’d inadvertently wandered onto local turf where the natives were hostile. But at one time, Heath knew for a fact that The Wild Donkey had been one of her favorite haunts for the boiled bananas alone. “The place looks the same, right?” he asked.

  “It seems to,” she answered, glancing around before quickly adding, “from what I can remember. It’s not like I spent a lot of time here.”

  “That’s not true,” he refuted easily, curious as to why she was adamant about smothering any memory of her childhood. Was admitting she’d enjoyed the local fare some kind of weakness? “You and I used to hang out here a lot. Before I left.”

  Her gaze shot to his, faltering as if she wasn’t prepared to talk about that. She swallowed then shrugged. “I’d forgotten.”

  “You know, I’ve always wanted to tell you where I went that year I went away…”

  “Heath, please. I didn’t come to talk about our childhood. It doesn’t matter to me where you went when you disappeared,” she said with false laughter, the vulnerability in her gaze calling into question her flip tone. “Besides, I don’t recall asking you for details then, and I certainly don’t need details now. What’s most important is putting together a solid plan for Larimar. I have some ideas that I’d like to go over—”

  “Always business,” Heath interrupted, sighing with disappointment. He’d hoped that bringing her to a local place would’ve softened her up a bit but she’d moved right past any nostalgia she may have felt and jumped headlong into the problems at hand. “Can the business wait until we’ve ordered, at least?” he asked, and she reluctantly nodded in answer. He stood and walked to the counter to give their orders, then returned with two beers.

  “Oh,” she started, when he put her drink in front of her. “I don’t drink beer.”

  “Since when?” he asked, taking a healthy swig. Ah, nothing like cold beer on a hot day. He watched her, trying to see her as nothing more than a pain-in-the-ass business associate but it was a struggle. The island had already started to put a faint rose in her cheeks, pinking them prettily and those long dusky lashes were almost criminal. He ignored the pang in his chest and drained his beer.

  She stiffened. “Since I prefer wine.”

  “Suit yourself. Right to business, then?”

  “Yes,” she said, seeming relieved. “I haven’t had a chance to go into the gift shop yet to check the inventory but I assume it’s the same stuff we used to sell years ago, right?”

  “Wrong,” he said, wiping the condensation away from his empty mug with his thumb. Her puzzled frown said it all. The islanders weren’t the only ones who resisted change. “We stopped selling that stuff because it wasn’t any different from any other place on the island. T-shirts, mugs, typical airport tourist stuff that was priced higher than the Captain’s Corner in the square was just sitting on the shelves. So we scrapped that inventory and started fresh.”

  She narrowed her stare. “There was a significant dollar amount attached to that inventory. What did you do with it?”

  “We put a deep discount on the merchandise that still had value and then we tossed the rest to make room for the new inventory.”

  Her eyes bulged. “You tossed it? On whose authority?”

  “Pops.” He held up his hand to calm the storm that was building behind her eyes. “And before you lose your cool, Pops agreed that the old stuff was a drain and it needed to go. Besides, that junk had been sitting on the shelves for so long it had long lost its value.”

  “What’s done is done, I suppose,” she said, though it looked as though she was conceding the point under duress. “So what’s this new inventory?”

  He drew a deep breath, feeling unaccountably nervous. It wasn’t as if he needed her approval but somewhere deep inside, he wanted to show her what he truly did for a living and it had nothing to do with being a handyman.

  * * *

  IN SPITE OF WHAT SHE’D declared earlier, Lora grabbed her beer and took a sip. It was hot in the bar, she was parched and well, she might’ve fibbed a little. She did drink an occasional beer but only in private. It wouldn’t do for clients to see her guzzling a brewsky like some blue-collar laborer when discussing million-dollar deals. She’d since learned to appreciate fine wine but she wouldn’t say she loved it. In fact, as the beer hit her tongue, she realized with a soft noise of appreciation, there were times when she really wanted nothing more than a simple beer.

  When Heath lifted a brow, she said in defense, “I’m thirsty,” and gestured for him to continue with his explanation of why he thought it would be wise to levy the resort’s revenue stream with something new and untried.

  “We rep
laced the old inventory with items handcrafted by locals.”

  “Such as?”

  “Jewelry and fused-glass creations mostly.”

  “Jewelry? Fused glass? Those aren’t exactly impulse buys,” she protested, frowning. “Tourists want T-shirts that say I Drank Rum at Larimar or Set Your Watch to Island Time at St. John for $19.99, they don’t want expensive trinkets.”

  “They’re not trinkets,” he said, a scowl deepening on his face. “They’re handcrafted works of art. And for your information, they’re selling better than any of that other crap ever did.”

  “If that’s the case, where’s the proof? We’re still in the hole and Larimar is being harassed by the IRS.”

  He looked away. “It’s taking a little longer than I anticipated to recoup the investment but the return is there. We just started a new website and we’re going to start selling through the site.”

  “Larimar isn’t a port for internet commerce,” she said in distaste. “My grandparents worked to create a brand for the resort as a high-end place with a bohemian style. It flies in the face of everything they’ve worked for to start hawking merchandise on the web. I don’t like it,” she said firmly.

  “You haven’t even seen what we’re doing yet.”

  “What is this ‘we’ business?” she retorted, fresh annoyance washing over her for being so out of the loop. She hated that all this had gone down without her knowledge, particularly since now she knew that her grandfather had made all these decisions when he clearly hadn’t been in his right mind to do so. She shifted her gaze Heath’s way, hating that she was in this position with him and forced to work together. “To me, it seems all these decisions were made essentially by you. I haven’t seen a business plan, you’ve avoided a real sit-down to talk this out, and all I see is my family’s resort drowning because you made a bad call for selfish reasons. Come on, now. Seriously? Put yourself in my shoes for just a second and then tell me to relax. There’s a lot at stake, Heath.”