by Dana Volney
“Out of here.” He changed lanes and stepped on the gas.
“And where would that be?”
She shifted in her seat to see him better. Besides his disheveled button-up, there were no other signs of what they’d just been through. He wasn’t shaking, sweating, or freaking out.
“Any beach you want.” He side-eyed her and blew out a breath. “Cell phone reception optional.”
Beach? Where there was beach, there was sun. She could use the sun on her face and for that same face to be anonymous in a crowd.
“I thought you had tons of important meetings set up for the week.” Is he really going to walk away from work for a while with no notice?
“Ann is moving them around.”
He was skipping out on the work he’d so desperately wanted to get to since they’d met? The last few days could shake up anyone, but running away wouldn’t help.
“We should stay and deal with all of this fallout.” There’d be news coverage to contain, official statements to make, and running away only meant it was waiting when they got back.
His gaze flicked to the clock on the dashboard. “I have the corporate plane ready to go.”
She rubbed her wrists in an attempt to take away the red bands. “I don’t think it’s healthy to act like none of this stuff happened.”
“I know exactly what happened, and I’ll come to terms with it someday I’m sure. I’m not running away from anything.”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“I don’t want to have to think about guns and bombs and mad men. I want to get on a plane with you and have a little bit of time together. Alone.” He turned is head and winked. “Is that so much to ask?”
No. No, it is not. “Just like that we’re flying away?”
He reached over the middle console and interlaced their fingers. “That was scary. In fact, the last couple of days have been terrifying.”
“You hid it well back there.” She grinned. This was his way of putting their relationship first—and she was happy to reciprocate the gesture. She pulled out her cell phone and texted Felix that she’d be gone for a little bit and only sporadically reachable. There was no way she was going to have Eliam to herself on a beach and be tied to technology.
“Later tonight, in whatever country we’re in, when I inevitably freak out, remember this moment.”
She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I don’t have any clothes.” Like at all. Shit. She was homeless and all of her possessions were ash. She didn’t need to be leaving the country—she needed to be figuring out reality.
“Yes, you do.”
“Remember my house blowing up? I know it’s all been a little crazy, but that was a pretty big event.”
“I mean, yes, you do have clothes.” He looked at her then back to the road. “We’ll buy everything we need when we get to where we’re going. And,” he took a deep breath, “I wanted to surprise you when we got back, but the penthouse on the opposite side of mine is being stocked with clothes, groceries, and anything else you might need. I have a contractor who is going to start re-building your house.”
He what? She studied him, his face, the smile on his five o’clock–shadowed cheeks. “What?” was all she could voice. She wasn’t sure she fully understood. “I could’ve been dead when you arranged all of this.”
He squeezed her hand. “I didn’t believe that for a moment.”
“How were you so sure?”
“Because that’s not how our lives work out. Not anymore.”
She felt the tears well and couldn’t stop them from falling. “So now you think I’m just going to leave the country with you?”
He pulled up to a private plane hangar and cut the engine. He didn’t say a word while he got out of the car and came around to her side to open her door. She used his hand to keep her balance while she slid out of the seat. There was a tiny chance she should really be checked out by a doctor instead of flying away.
Eliam gathered her in his arms. “I think you love me as much as I love you.”
“Really.” She smiled into the face of the man she loved with every fiber of her being.
“Yep. And, from the starfish and seashell décor in your former guest bedroom, I’m guessing you’d like a tropical trip as much as I would.”
She nodded. “You may have missed your calling as a detective as well.”
“I’ve missed a lot of things in my life.” His eyes were no longer playful as they searched hers. “That stops now. Now,” he grazed his lips over hers, “we live in the present.”
He kissed her again and she let herself melt into him. She loved Eliam. She loved him so much it scared her. But, when he laced their fingers together and kissed her like she was his world, life was more bearable, the future wasn’t so daunting, and she knew she was finally in the right place at the right time—because he was her prince.
AUTHOR BIO
Dana Volney lets her imagination roam free in Wyoming, where she writes romances and helps local businesses succeed with her marketing consulting company. Surrounding herself with good friends and family, and boating on the lake whenever she can, she thrives on moments and memories created with loved ones, especially on sun-filled days. That’s when Wyoming’s charm really sinks in. Dana is bold, adventurous, and—by her own admission—good with plants, having kept a coral cactus alive for more than one year.
More from This Author
(From Paradise Point by Dana Volney)
Praise for Paradise Point:
“Volney’s characters fit perfectly together. Liv’s feisty attitude and Adam’s cool demeanor will put a smile on your face. They might even have you blushing as you think of a time or two when you did or said something similar. I know I did … If you enjoy danger mixed with falling in love, Paradise Point is the book for you!” —Tumbleweed Book Reviews, 4.5 stars
“The dialogue is witty and natural, the narrative flows nicely, including beautiful descriptions of nature and the marina. The plot is fast-paced … a well-plotted and intriguing novel.” —Long and Short Reviews, 4.5 stars
Liv Barnette slapped her coral flats onto the standard-issued wooden desk and closed her eyes. Her stomach growled and she moaned. She barely opened her eyelids to spy her coffee cup. Just out of reach. Coffee’s for closers. And I don’t seem to be one of those lately. Her loud sigh turned into a grunt as she stretched to grab the black ceramic cup. She needed food, she needed a new job—hell, she needed a new life or her old one back.
She took a deep breath and pictured thick, blue waves gliding up white sand riddled with shells. The ocean. Soaking up the sun instead of this stupid-ass florescent lighting. She listened, but try as she might, she couldn’t hear rolling waves crashing on the beach. Instead, she heard cars racing past, honking, and a backhoe crunching a parking lot into pieces outside of her downtown San Diego real-estate office window.
“Liv.”
Neil Shiverly’s strong business voice caused her to jump. She whacked her chest with her hand as she regained her balance from the scare.
His near-coal eyes showed no amusement. “Staff meeting. Conference room. Now.”
She swung her feet off her desk. A staff meeting … today?
Liv gathered her teal and yellow notebook, straightened her tan pleated skirt and white blouse, and headed for the conference room. The only open seat put her in a Deb-and-Ken sandwich. She did a mental eye roll. Ken Novak, her nemesis and former lover, smiled neatly at her grimace. With his expertly coiffed hair; stellar suits; and no doubt purchased, even tan, he was better suited for a Barbie-esque girl, not Liv.
The smell of rich imported coffee caught her attention. Shit. My coffee. Meetings without coffee in hand sucked. As she rose out of her chair to pour a cup, Neil spoke. Balls. She relaxed back into the leather as if she had been adjusting her skirt. She fixed her eyes in Neil’s general direction and nodded insightfully to seem interested. Extra undivided attention was in order due to her crappy sales stats she
had no hope of rescuing. She rapidly tapped her purple-ink pen against her notepad with impatience while her boss passed out the next round of listings, skipping her. The exclusion was fine, it would only give her time to figure out a way to sell the properties she did have and regroup. Being in a slump was for the birds. It was time to buck up and better her numbers or move on. Out of the options in front of her, looking into other jobs had a more appealing ring.
“Liv.” Neil eyed her hand tapping the Bic.
She cleared her throat and retracted her pen and hands to her lap, smiling curtly.
“The last thing is the houseboat,” Neil said.
A low groan rose from the crowd of Realtors.
“I know. I’ve mentioned it before and had no takers, but now it’s a priority.”
Fixing up a houseboat involves the bay. Liv pictured Paradise Point Bay on Coronado Island: topaz water surrounded by a perfectly manicured golf course that led into the San Diego Bay. Her skin warmed at the mere thought. “I’ll do it,” Liv practically yelled, surprising herself. She’d just jumped way ahead of her coffeeless thought process.
Oh crappity crap. I don’t want a project. I want outta this job.
“You really want to take this on?” Neil’s voice mimicked her astonishment.
“Yep.” Liv nodded feverishly. “Yes. I do.” Kind of. Maybe. I could use it as sort of a vacation, right? A two-fer.
Neil stared, seemingly deciding whether or not to breathe again. “That’s it, everyone.”
Her fellow cohorts milled around and she was almost out the door when she heard, “Liv. My office.”
Dammit. She couldn’t talk to Neil about her sudden decision. She needed a minute to get a game plan together. Why in the hell must her brain go on autopilot and screw her in the process?
“I don’t have to tell you that you’ve been in a slump.” Neil was already halfway into his sentence before she sat on the plush chair in his office. “A long slump.” His clean-shaven face didn’t look as attractive in a frown.
“Yeah.” Liv elongated her word. I know I need to get it together, Neil. You don’t need to lecture me.
Adrenaline rushed through her head and flowed down to her toes. She shifted in her chair, ready to start arguing for her career. She opened her mouth to speak, but Neil beat her to it.
“I need the houseboat dealt with, Liv.” Neil’s voice sounded pleading and uneasy, rather than its normal arrogant. “I don’t know if you’re the person to do it. Frankly, I’m not sure you can make it in this business.” He glanced at a stack of papers in front of him. “Your closing rate is very low.”
He didn’t have to tell her. Her empty fridge and cupboards with one jar of peanut butter and some graham crackers were an ever-present reminder.
Her father’s voice echoed in her head. Wingfields get the job done and do it better than everyone else.
She’d never been fired before; never even close. She prided herself on being the kiss-ass at the head of the class showing others how to perform. Her ears began to ring. Quitting and being fired were two very different things.
“You’ve had the same two listings for three months.”
“I know.” Her eyes darted over Neil’s plaques and trophies. “I’ll flip it … and sell it … no problem.” Could I sound any more unsure? Holy hell, I’m a goner for sure.
What would she do? She had no fallback. Although she could always take her dad up on his offers to come back to work. He offered about every other week.
Her green eyes settled on a picture of her boss and his family on the houseboat in question. Cerulean waters surrounded the smiling bunch. Years had passed since that photo because his kids were grown now. The pit of her stomach started to ache. The houseboat wasn’t in great condition in the photo; who knew the condition now? Neil had been trying to sell it for at least a year with no luck. The knots tangling her digestive system loosened. She’d focus, she’d fix it up, and she’d sell the shit out of it. No problem. After all, she had the familiarity factor with all things boating and Coronado Island, thanks to her grandparents. She really was the best person for the job.
“I’m going to lay it on the line.” Neil interrupted her thoughts. “I’m giving you this simple project. If you fail to fix it up and sell it within thirty days, then you need to find another place of employment.”
“Thirty days?” Liv shrieked more than she’d wanted it to, but shock did that to a person.
“I’ve seen you do more with less. Remember the Walen Meadow project?”
“There’s no way…” She shook her head and wrinkled her face in dismay. “The Walen Meadow project took almost four months to plan and execute.” Although she had rocked that deal and presold all forty lots, even gaining a bonus for using the same contractor for the entire subdivision.
“That’s the deal.” Neil opened his middle desk drawer. “Here’s a credit card for you to charge the rehab to. I expect receipts. Don’t go crazy. It’s parked in slot fourteen out at Coronado Boat Club.” He handed her a set of keys with the credit card.
Liv bit the side of her bottom lip. “Do you already know what needs to be fixed?”
Neil’s head tilted toward the ceiling. “Well…” He looked back down. “Not much. It runs and there’s nothing wrong with the plumbing. It’s basically cosmetic. Your job, your call.” He reached for his vibrating smartphone and nodded her toward the door.
Liv strutted toward her office, choosing not to acknowledge her livelihood now depended on the outcome of a houseboat renovation and sale. Challenge accepted, Neil. She had work to do.
To purchase this ebook and learn more about the author, click here.
For more from Dana Volney, check out:
Christmas Clash
Praise for Christmas Clash:
“…had me hooked from the very first pages. Christmas Clash is a fabulous holiday read but can certainly be enjoyable regardless of time of year.” —Women on Writing, 5 stars
“Despite the title, holiday references are minimal, so readers will delight in this solidly written and satisfying romance no matter the time of year or the temperature outside. Well done, Ms. Volney!” — The Romance Reviews, 4 stars
Holiday Hoopla
Praise for Holiday Hoopla:
“There’s a lot to appreciate in this quick read of fifty-seven pages, including an engaging plot, believable conflict, and two very likable main characters. It was a pleasure to escape to Casper for Christmas, and I look forward to indulging in future works from this talented new author.” —The Romance Reviewer, 4 stars
Candlelight Conspiracy
Praise for Candlelight Conspiracy
“This has to be my favorite romance written by Dana Volney yet!” —author Mary Billiter
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