Текст книги "Compromising Her Position"
Автор книги: Samanthe Beck
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 14 страниц)
Rafe gritted his teeth and let the sarcasm slide. “I understand the optics of the situation, Luc, but the termination is for cause and waiting is not an option. Waiting implies St. Sebastian endorses her behavior, and we don’t. She sent numerous inappropriate emails to the former assistant manager using her Las Ventanas email account.”
“You’re certain?”
“I’m staring at them as we speak.” He paused, crossed his fingers and hoped Luc didn’t require any additional information. He’d just as soon not explain tricky details like how the deal liaison on the Tradewinds acquisition turned out to be the runaway assistant manager from Las Ventanas.
Luc cursed. The single word conveyed his frustration at being pulled into the situation. “You bought this hornet’s nest when you bought Las Ventanas.”
“Yes.”
“At last we agree on one thing. You realize she will likely sue us for wrongful termination?”
“We agree on two things,” Rafe replied. “But she’ll lose. The emails speak for themselves. Buy her cooperation with a severance package if you need to, but make sure she agrees to refrain from contacting the former assistant manager again.”
Luc sighed. “Send me the emails, and the termination paperwork. I will do this for you. Once.”
“Thank you.” Hopefully the words rang sincere, because much as he hated asking his father for assistance, he was thankful.
“You’re welcome. Unlike Barrington, I can be useful. Please advise Miss Wayne so she can concentrate on finalizing our deal.”
So much for keeping the tricky details to himself. No matter. As long as Cindy left Las Ventanas today with a security escort by her side and her personal effects in a box, mission accomplished.
His father might not admire the timing, but he’d supported Rafe’s decision, and that felt strangely like a triumph.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The brush of a cool palm against her cheek pulled Chelsea the rest of the way out of the comfortable fog she’d been lingering in, just between asleep and awake. She blinked Rafe’s face into focus, and dealt with the reckless acceleration in her pulse. A wave of thick, dark hair fell over his forehead. Stubble shadowed his jaw. The corner of his mouth tilted up, but the result couldn’t be classified as a smile thanks to the furrow between his brows.
She pushed herself into a sitting position and realized she felt a little better. He was to thank, but what came out of her mouth instead, was, “You didn’t have to stay.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear. “I got you sick.”
She steeled herself against his touch, because her heart wanted to read too much into the offhand gesture. “I assumed the risk when I pushed my way into your villa.”
“About that…”
Last night sat well down on the list of topics she wished to rehash. “Did you get my message about the easement?”
He eyed her for a moment, but went along with her change of topic. “I caught the resolved part, but not the details. Did they go for a payoff?”
“They weren’t interested in money at all. They’re all about the land.”
One black brow arched. “They want some other piece of the property? St. Sebastian won’t agree to that.”
“No, no. They only care about their piece. The MILC representatives simply hope to preserve a slice of old Hawaii. They don’t want the trail paved over or, like you said, turned into a super-highway. They’d like the passage maintained exactly as it is now. They believe the land, preserved in a natural state, serves as a living memorial to their ancestors, who carved the trail hundreds of years ago.”
“That’s it? Keep the path as it is?”
“I may have committed you to one tiny additional thing.”
“Describe tiny.”
“The MILC representatives weren’t very reassured by the idea of a signed piece of paper outlining everyone’s good intentions. They said a piece of paper ends up in a drawer gathering dust. People forget. I couldn’t argue, considering the Templetons basically forgot about the conveyance restriction they signed. I suggested we install a plaque at the entrance to the trail, to honor the original islanders who forged the path, and their descendants, who graciously share it with visitors.”
She thought he’d be ecstatic, but he stared at her for so long she thought perhaps she’d made the stupidest move since leaving a Santa costume in Paul’s office. Finally, he said, “A plaque for the easement?”
For God’s sake, she’d saved the deal, not to mention his shot at taking over the St. Sebastian empire. Didn’t that merit at least a smile? “Tradewinds will fund the design and installation. St. Sebastian will have to absorb the cost of future maintenance, which should be minimal. Is that a problem?”
A sweep of his hand brushed the comment aside, and she remembered the feel of that hand sweeping over her bare skin. “No. You found a win for everyone. How can I show my appreciation?”
He didn’t appear appreciative, sitting there watching her like a hawk staring down a field mouse.
“No appreciation necessary. I did my job, that’s all.”
“Your commitment goes above and beyond the job. How about this: be my date for the Las Ventanas re-launch party?”
“I—” Had his fever burned away all common sense? “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
Her lungs felt trapped in her rib cage. “You know very well why not. I don’t work there anymore. I have no business reason to attend, and going as your date essentially tells the world we’re sleeping together.”
“As it happens, we are sleeping together.”
His logic only intensified the pressure in her chest. “And we agreed to be discreet. There is nothing discreet about attending the party together. It’s the exact opposite. I grew up at Las Ventanas. Some of the people there have known me all my life. Everyone would say—”
“It’s not everyone you’re concerned about. It’s Barrington.”
Paul rated so low on her list of concerns, she almost laughed. Guarding her heart, and her sanity, not to mention her professional reputation—those were concerns. “This isn’t about Paul. It’s about me.”
“Or is it about her?”
The flu had flattened her. She couldn’t keep up with this conversation. “Her who?”
Rafe traced his thumb along the sensitive corner where her lips met. “Cindy. Have you heard from her?”
The barrage of emails and texts from Cindy sprang to mind, filled with accusations and suspicions she’d done nothing to earn, but now, under Rafe’s sharp gaze, heat swept into her cheeks. He’d already overheard her speaking to Paul, and drawn his own conclusions. Admitting Cindy shared his ugly suspicions, to the point of sending multiple daily warnings, only legitimized them.
“I haven’t contacted her.”
“That’s not what I asked.” He ran his thumb over her lips. “And you’re dangerously close to polluting this lovely mouth with a lie.”
She tipped her chin away and broke the contact. “Don’t ask me a question if you already know the answer.”
“I’d like to hear your answer. Trust me enough to tell me what’s going on.”
The unfairness of the situation overwhelmed her, or maybe it was the trace of pity in his eyes, but suddenly everything came spilling out. “Look, I’m not chasing after Paul, despite what everyone seems to think. Tuesday night you overheard the one and only time I’ve exchanged words with him since he dumped me, and the sole reason I took his call was to tell him I had no interest in reconciling. I didn’t get that far, unfortunately, because Cindy interrupted. She’s convinced I’m a threat. They’re having problems and it’s easier for her to blame me than accept that she doesn’t inspire any more loyalty from him than I did.”
She drew in a long, unsteady breath, hoping the burn in her throat would subside. “Seven thousand miles and I still can’t get beyond the debacle I walked away from last year. I haven’t done anything wrong, but I’m the one on the defensive, and I’m forced into interactions I didn’t invite. All I wanted was a fresh start.”
A warm, strong hand uncurled her fist from the blanket. “I can help.”
The offer meant a lot. For one, it meant he believed her, and the show of support steadied her more than it should. She shook her head. “No. This is my problem. I don’t want to pull you in.”
“You didn’t. Cindy made it St. Sebastian’s problem when she sent inappropriate emails to you using her work account. We terminated her employment today, and agreed to pay severance in the form of salary continuation for twelve weeks provided she never contacts you again. You need to let me know immediately if she fails to honor the terms.”
“Oh, Jesus.” He already had his hands full with Las Ventanas. The last thing he needed was another issue. “I’m sorry—”
“I’m not.” He threaded his fingers through hers. “Not about that, at any rate. She needed to go. It was only a question of time, and she resolved the question for us.” He paused and looked her in the eye. “I am sorry about my behavior Tuesday night. I felt like hell, and I took it out on you. I owe you an apology.”
The sincerity of his words soothed away her hurt feelings. They also made her face heat, because she couldn’t help thinking about the last time he’d apologized to her. She looked down at their linked hands. “No apology necessary.”
“I disagree.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “I look forward to earning your forgiveness.” The heat in her cheeks spread like wildfire. Apparently they weren’t at odds anymore, but she probably looked pretty…uh…unforgiveable at the moment. “N-now?”
He laughed, leaned in, and kissed her forehead. “You’re beautiful, but I meant later, when you’re feeling better. I need you at full strength to offer you a proper apology. In the meantime, the least I can do is feed you. What sounds appetizing?”
“I didn’t realize you knew how to cook.”
“I know how to use a phone.”
“Room service is hard to come by on my side of the island.”
“I also know how to drive a car. What are you in the mood for?”
They settled on takeout from a local deli, and she told herself she’d shower while he went to pick up their order. But when he left, her momentum faded. The peaceful silence, broken only by the gentle lullaby of the neighbor’s wind chime, dulled her ambition.
The next time she opened her eyes pale fingers of dawn pried around the edge of the curtain. A note sat on her nightstand, beside a shiny red apple.
To keep the doctor away. See you soon. Rafe.
“What are you doing Friday night? I need a date to the Las Ventanas re-launch party.” Passengers filed through the first class cabin. Rafe nodded at the “five minute” signal from the flight attendant and fastened his seat belt.
“I don’t think you can call it a date if you bring me,” Arden said. “Since when do you have any trouble finding a real date?”
His sister usually steered clear of St. Sebastian events. She disliked the “hotel heiress” stigma the press had tried to foist on her from an early age, and avoided playing to it, but she’d go if he asked. “My first choice was unavailable.” Unwilling, to be precise, and the fact still burned in his gut. The odds of convincing her to extend their arrangement beyond the close of the deal looked slim given he couldn’t even convince her to go on a public date with him.
“And your second choice? And third, for that matter? I think your bench goes deeper than first choice, and then boom, little sister.”
Leave it to Arden to turn a simple request into a character assassination. “You’re my second choice. I thought it would be nice to spend the evening with my sibling. At least I did, until this call.”
“Who was your first choice?”
“None of your business.” Not subtle, but subtlety never worked on Arden.
“Somebody new.”
Neither, apparently, did rudeness. But her observation piqued his curiosity. “What makes you say that?”
“You’re not attached to any of the priors. You’d just call the next eligible bachelorette on your list if the first one couldn’t make it. But this one’s not interchangeable. You want her or nobody at all.”
“Should I refer to you as nobody from now on?”
“You’re asking me because you don’t want to take a real date.”
He scowled. “I’m asking you because I made an error in judgment two minutes ago.”
“Ha. You’ve gone exclusive, whether by intention or default. It’s the deal liaison, isn’t it?”
Rafe nearly dropped his phone. As a major stakeholder in St. Sebastian Enterprises, Arden had a high-level awareness of the Tradewinds deal, but there was no way she knew about Chelsea. And he wanted to keep it like that for the time being.
“Dad told me you refused to follow his advice and pull out of the deal because you had a thing for the woman assigned to facilitate the sale. He used a bit more French in his version, but—”
“I can only imagine.” He could. All too clearly. So much for the discretion he’d promised Chelsea. He had his father questioning his judgment—nothing new there—and his sister speculating on his love life. “My flight leaves soon. Can we please focus on the matter at hand, Arden. Friday?”
“Will you buy me something pretty to wear?”
A sharp pain stabbed him in the vicinity of his credit card. Arden loved to shop. She could spend hours, and thousands, at a Tijuana flea market or a couture salon on the Champs Elysees. Then again, she was doing him a favor. The least he could do was pay for a dress…shoes…probably an evening bag…jewelry. Christ, he should just write her a blank check. “Yes, dear. Anything your little heart desires, as long as I don’t have to be there when it happens.”
Her laugh bounced over the line, along with a parting shot. “I love her already.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Feb. 12
10:15 a.m.
Chelsea,
We’ve had a run on the glow-in-the-dark condoms. The supplier has them on back-order and says six weeks at the earliest. Do you have an emergency stash?
Thx.
Lynette.
Chelsea typed Lynette directions to the extra supply she’d set aside for just such emergencies. Crisis averted. She climbed out of her car, holding her phone in one hand and the envelope containing the new easement agreement, signed and dated in triplicate by the MILC representative, in the other. Feeling triumphant, she put the envelope safely in her purse and dialed Laurie’s number. When her best friend picked up, Chelsea said, “Hey Babycakes, my bonus is back on track.”
“Woo-hoo!”
Chelsea grinned, held the phone away from her ear and waited for the party on the other end of the line to subside. “Better still, I’ll be in Montenido day after tomorrow.”
“You’re right. That is even better. When do you arrive? We need to celebrate.”
“I arrive at LAX tomorrow evening, but I’ll stay in L.A. the first night to have dinner with the Templetons, get their signatures on the agreements, and also discuss the plan for my transition to Tradewinds Tahiti. Then I drive to Las Ventanas to give Rafe the signature versions of the documents. After that, my contribution is pretty much over, so I’m taking three days off to spend in Montenido.” And three nights with Rafe…maybe her last nights with him. She pushed the thought behind a barricade at the back of her mind. She’d think about that later.
“Let’s get together as soon as you’re in Montenido. There’s something I want to show you.”
“Got your eye on something sexy?”
“Yeah, a sexy storefront for lease along Ocean Avenue, between the surf shop and the pizzeria. What do you think of Babycakes by the Beach?”
She closed her eyes and pictured the space, envisioned it decked out with a mocha, periwinkle, and cream striped awning and a couple of bistro tables. “I love it.” Just saying the words caused tightness in her throat. She wanted to be there for Laurie this time around just like she had with the first Babycakes, helping paint, to pick out supplies, and set up displays.
Good luck doing that from Tahiti.
“I’m still analyzing the feasibility, but, well, I’ve banked some money picking up catering jobs at Las Ventanas. With your buy-in, and a loan, I think it’s within reach. You okay, Chels? Your voice sounds kind of funny.”
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, and dug around in her purse for a cough drop. “Just shaking off a touch of the flu.”
“That sucks. For some reason I assumed Maui would be a flu-free zone.”
“I’m living proof to the contrary.”
“Poor baby. If you were here, I’d bring some home-baked chocolate chip cookies to make you feel better.”
“That’s sweet of you, but I already feel better, thanks to Rafe.”
“A cookie from Rafe cures the flu? Wow.”
“Not exactly. The doctor and antivirals he brought to my doorstep might have had something to do with it. He was here last week to help resolve the complication we encountered with the sale.”
“The CEO of St. Sebastian Luxury Resorts dropped everything in the middle of one of the most important deals of his career to nurse you back to health?”
He had. Not a single question about the status of the easement had passed his lips. She’d been the one to bring up the topic. Part of her wanted to turn that into something meaningful about his priorities, but the realist in her understood his actions had more to do with common decency. “He’s the one who got me sick. I figure he felt responsible.”
“Are you sure this thing between you two is strictly casual?”
No. “Of course. What makes you even ask?”
“You used the R-word. Responsible. A quick little hookup doesn’t generally leave anyone feeling responsible for anything. That’s the beauty of it. ‘Responsible’ is a serious word, and a serious feeling.”
“Rafe and I are not serious. I’m not looking for anything serious, remember?”
“Yeah, well, things have a way of finding a girl, even when she’s not looking. Especially when she’s not looking,” Laurie said drily. “You might do a little soul-searching and make sure you’re still content with casual. Make sure he is too, while you’re at it. A guy who shows up at your sickbed in the middle of a business crisis sounds to me like a man looking for more than fun, mutual attraction, and entertaining sex.”
“No soul-searching necessary. Look, I enjoy spending time with him. He…he means something to me.” Her heart beat faster as she said the words. “But Rafe and I always had an expiration date. The sale will close soon. We’ll celebrate, wish each other well, and go our separate ways.” An ache completely at odds with her calm assertion spread through her middle. She leaned against the trunk of a palm and sucked in a deep breath.
“Really? You’re cool watching him waltz out of your life in another few days?”
“I guarded my heart, remember? I’ll be fine. I’m perfectly happy on my own.”
“So you say, but I wouldn’t be your best friend if I didn’t point out one thing right now.”
“What’s that?”
“You don’t sound perfectly happy.”
Feb. 13
11:25 a.m.
Chelsea,
One of the registration girls told a new guest to stop by the pool for a lei. He misunderstood, and…well…I took the liberty of ordering a sign to remind guests we require swimsuits in the pool area at all times. Enjoy L.A. Everything here is under control.
Lynette
“Is there something wrong with your drink, Miss Wayne?”
The flight attendant’s question pulled Chelsea’s attention away from the article she scrolled through on her phone. She held her coffee cup halfway to her lips. How long had she been sitting like that? Long enough to attract the flight attendant’s attention. Bringing the cup the rest of the way to her lips, she deliberately took a sip. “It’s fine. Thank you.”
The woman smiled and resumed her duties. Chelsea put her cup down on her tray table with extra care, given her hand shook, and dropped her eyes to the tiny screen again. She couldn’t seem to look away. The picture was like her own personal train wreck.
The Montenido Times article covering the grand opening of St. Sebastian’s Las Ventanas resort included half a dozen photos, but her attention homed in on the shot of Rafe planting a kiss on the flawless cheek of a tall, slender, absolutely stunning woman. Yes, she’d zoomed in on the photo to drink in all the details. The dark-haired beauty faced the camera, her smile so wide, playful, and full of affection Chelsea could practically hear the woman’s laughter through the page.
Their bodies fit together as if they’d embraced a thousand times. Rafe’s profile showed his eye crinkled at the corner, the way it did when he smiled for real. Everything about the picture suggested intimacy. Two gorgeous people having the time of their lives. Enjoying fun, attraction, and…
Did you expect he’d go alone?
I didn’t expect him to look so freaking happy with someone else in his arms.
You didn’t expect to care.
I don’t care…but who is she?
She hit the button and retreated to her icon screen. A name hardly mattered. Knowing wouldn’t erase the hurt, the bone-deep sense of betrayal.
Her inner cynic insisted she should have seen it coming, her romantic track record being what it was. The only difference this time? She didn’t have the right to feel hurt, or betrayed. Rafe was free to see other people. She’d asked for no promises and he’d made her none. But deep down, she’d wanted to believe he was hers alone—at least until the deal closed. And deeper down, in the steep, slippery part of her heart she’d steadfastly avoided visiting, she’d hoped for even more. One picture shattered the fragile and ridiculously inappropriate hope, but the fragments left her bleeding.
She’d paid lip service to keeping her emotions under control, and keeping things casual, but she’d deluded herself. She could travel thousands of miles to get a fresh start, but she couldn’t outrun the truth. She’d fallen for him—the one thing she’d sworn she wouldn’t do. Worse, her desperate heart already hatched a new plan. What if she passed on Tahiti and stayed on at the Maui resort? Maybe they’d still see each other from time to time? If she gave them a chance, he might decide he wanted more. He might—
Stop. You’re pathetic.
God, she was. She closed her eyes and rested her pounding head against the seatback. What was wrong with her?
The answer still eluded her when she deplaned in Los Angeles. She wheeled her carry-on bag through the terminal, lost in a fog of misery until a tall, dark-suited driver put himself directly in front of her.
“Miss Wayne?”
“Yes?” Now she saw his white rectangular sign bearing her name.
“Hello. I’m Daryl. Mr. St. Sebastian sent me to collect you. He’d like you to join him for dinner.”
Hell, no. She couldn’t see Rafe now. Not with her heart crushed like a grape under his careless heel. Tomorrow, for the meeting at Las Ventanas, she’d pull herself together because she had a job to do, but not tonight. Thankfully the Templetons were taking her to dinner. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I have other plans.”
The man smiled, his white teeth flashing against ebony skin. “I believe if you check your emails, you’ll find your calendar has cleared.”
She dug her phone out of her oversize handbag, turned it on and scrolled through her emails. Sure enough, she spotted one from Evelyn.
Hi Chelsea. I’ve got some bad news and some good news. First, the bad news. I think that nasty flu is gaining a foothold on the mainland. John’s not feeling well. I’m sorry, but we have to cancel dinner and reschedule our meeting for tomorrow morning at our office. The good news is Rafe volunteered to stand in for us tonight, and I know he’ll take care of you. Look forward to meeting with you tomorrow.
Shit. She switched her attention to Daryl. “I’m sorry. I have several important meetings to prepare for. Could you please tell Mr. St. Sebastian I appreciate his invitation, but…”
Daryl’s smile turned disarming. “I don’t keep my job by disappointing Mr. St. Sebastian.”
A polite way of saying, “I’m a driver, not a messenger.” Whatever she wanted to say to Rafe, she’d have to say it herself. In person. And the painful truth was she couldn’t say a damn thing without sounding like a fool. He’d asked her to go to the re-launch party with him. She’d said no. He’d taken someone else, and now she was jealous. Why? Because she suddenly realized she wanted him all to herself. Admitting that would be the quickest way to scare him off for good. Hastening the inevitable might be the safest option, but she didn’t have the strength to bare her heart and endure his rejection, which meant tonight would be an exercise in holding her tongue and keeping a lock on her feelings. She sucked in a long breath and let it out slowly. “Okay Daryl, lead on, and please call me Chelsea.”
“This way, Chelsea. I know you had a long flight. Don’t worry. I’ll get you to your destination in no time.”
“Where, exactly, is my destination?”
He smiled again. “Mr. St. Sebastian requested that I tell you it’s a surprise.”
Not good. She still reeled from the last surprise he’d given her, when she’d seen a picture of him wrapped around another woman.
An hour later her stomach pitched when Daryl slowed the town car, turned left off Pacific Coast Highway, and inched down a winding drive lined with gnarled bishop pines. The clean lines of a two-level home shifted into view through the fringed green screen of trees. Late afternoon sunlight slanted off wide expanses of glass and wood.
Daryl stopped the car in the circular drive, directly in front of the house. Even from her vantage point in the car, Chelsea could peer through the soaring windows, all the way to the ocean.
Rafe stepped into view and descended the steps, barefoot, wearing jeans and a navy cashmere sweater that turned up the blue in his eyes. A poster boy for casual elegance, but she couldn’t stop picturing him in a tuxedo, holding that other woman in his arms. She wanted to hide in the back of the car but Daryl came around and opened the door, and then, ready or not, she stood face-to-face with the casual diversion she’d foolishly fallen in love with.
