During the days after the barbecue, Cammie did her best to shake off her thoughts and feelings. To ignore how badly she’d wanted Dane to kiss her right in the middle of that beautiful hug. Otherwise, wanting something she could never have would make her crazy. Her desire would drive her to despair. And she absolutely would not be that kind of person. She wouldn’t spend her life mooning over something out of her reach.
She’d learned that lesson when her parents died. No matter how much she hoped and prayed, they never came back.
The new resort project provided the perfect panacea. Especially when, a week later, she and Dane were seated side by side at the conference table in the Pebble Beach office, going over her endless lists.
He sat back abruptly, folding his arms over his broad chest—an action so tempting she had to look away. “You’ve got fabulous ideas. But we need to figure out how to get from idea stage to completed project. Let’s fly to the island, where there won’t be any distractions. We’ll spend a couple of days throwing out ideas and brainstorming the whole thing.”
Outside the office’s floor-to-ceiling windows, the ocean lay before them, the morning fog finally burning off and the sun sparkling on the waves. Though spring had rolled in, it was still cool, and a dip in the ocean would require putting on a wetsuit. Dane’s Caribbean island was exactly what she needed—warm waters and hot sand, where she could lounge around in only a sundress all day. They could even lie on the beach while they brainstormed, recording their discussions on her phone for later transcription.
“Brilliant,” she said.
It would be the first time the two of them had been alone in a very long time. Then she had to laugh at herself. They wouldn’t be alone. Fernsby went everywhere with them. And she wouldn’t think about Dane sleeping on the other side of the lanai. Just like she didn’t think about him sleeping down the hall right now in the big house. She hadn’t allowed herself those thoughts since the barbecue. That way lay heartache.
Instead, she thought almost constantly about the resort. She loved everything they’d come up with. Could she handle managing the project? Yes, maybe she could, even if she had to ask for Dane’s help, since he’d done this so many times. She’d even relish the chance, though she wasn’t quite ready to jump in without backup.
But there was plenty of time to think about that. They were still in the planning stage. She picked up her phone and scrolled through her contacts as she spoke. “I’ll make arrangements with your pilot. When do you want to leave?”
Dane grinned as if they were going on a romantic holiday for two. Which, of course, they weren’t. “ASAP.”
After informing Dane’s pilot, she called Fernsby about food preparations.
Dane’s island was one of the many specks of land dotting the Caribbean. Too small for a resort, its amenities consisted of two huts on opposite sides of the island. One served as the living quarters, with three bedrooms and a common area, including the gorgeous lanai overlooking the beach and the ocean, with a marvelous view of the sunset. The second hut contained the kitchen and a living area where Fernsby stayed, doing all the cooking and bringing food over in a golf cart.
He could have stayed in the main house, but the first time Dane offered that, Fernsby had looked down his nose and drawled, “I prefer my privacy, sir.”
Cammie had never actually seen his room in the cookhouse, as they called it, but knowing Fernsby, it would be laid out with precision.
The island wasn’t large enough for a runway, so a helicopter flew them over from Martinique, where the plane had landed.
As always, Fernsby efficiently handled the distribution of goods and suitcases to the two huts, then doled out instructions. “I will prepare food for you for the week, sir, and bring it over later today.” He set T. Rex’s carrier in the golf cart.
Cammie held out a hand. “You can leave him here.”
Her words were met with a frosty admonition. “Camille, you two are here to work. I’ll take the little tyke with me since he can be such a nuisance.”
Rex wasn’t a nuisance at all. But with the quarter mile between the two huts, Fernsby would miss the dog. Even if he would never say so.
The weather was glorious, the sun warm but not too hot. The ocean air wafted through her room as she unpacked, the constant rhythm of the waves a balm to her soul.
Before leaving home, she’d arranged for a cleaning service to open up the island house, put fresh linens on the beds, and dust. No one had been here in all the months of her family leave.
Outside her room, the screened-in porch wrapped around the house. She could leave the two sets of French doors open all night long if she chose. She laid her teal T. Rex against the pillows. As odd as it might be, she always packed the dinosaur. Because its teal color made her happy. Because it reminded her of Dane.
His room was far closer here than in the big house in Pebble Beach. It would be easy to step outside her French doors and walk the length of the veranda to where his doors, too, would be open to the night air.
And Fernsby was on the other side of the island.
Of course she wouldn’t do it. She never had. She never would.
God, how she dreamed of it, though. She wanted it more than ever.
But knowing now how badly she wanted love and a life together to blossom between them, a rejection if she made a move would make the loss only more poignant.
Unbearable.
* * *
Half an hour later, Cammie pulled a sundress over her head, the stretchy smocked bodice fitting tightly over her chest. Sundresses and bathing suits were all she wore on the island. Dane liked his board shorts, his long legs tanned and muscled. And when he threw his shirt off for a swim? She had to count her breaths so she wouldn’t hyperventilate.
Dane was already pouring champagne when she stepped out of her room straight into the living room.
“I don’t think I can work if you give me champagne,” she said as he handed her a glass.
“We worked the entire flight. Now we need a break. We can start again tomorrow.” He tapped his glass to hers with the tinkle of crystal.
Fernsby arrived only minutes later, his golf cart laden with food he unloaded into the small kitchen’s refrigerator.
Dane stared in wonder. “Did you make all that this afternoon?”
With a hint of disdain, Fernsby said, “I am always prepared, sir.” He pointed to the fridge. “You’ll have cold salmon on a bed of asparagus, green salads, fruit salads. You’ll also find a fish pie with instructions on how to reheat it.”
Cammie’s mouth watered. She loved Fernsby’s fish pie.
“There’s also shepherd’s pie, cold cuts for lunches, and a selection of fruit for breakfast.” He clapped his hands. “If you need anything, please do call. Otherwise, just work away to your hearts’,” he said with emphasis, “desire.” Then he stretched his lips in what could pass for a smile, at least for Fernsby, who never smiled.
“Fernsby, you are brilliant,” Dane said.
“Of course I am, sir.”
“There’s enough food here to feed an army, let alone two people.” Dane put a hand to his chest. “So why don’t you just take some time off, for however long we’re here. You can come up with more recipes for the baking competition that will pound Digbert into the sand.”
Fernsby drawled, “You’re so kind, sir. But that man doesn’t give me a single worry. He uses frozen pastry, for God’s sake.” Then he trundled off in his golf cart.
“How does he do that?” Cammie asked with wonder. “Taking care of everything with barely a moment’s notice?” She smiled, then huffed out a laugh. “He really needs to write a book. How Life Should Be Lived According to Fernsby.”
Dane added dryly, “Don’t mention it, or he’ll start writing it while we’re on the island.”
She put a hand on her waist and cocked her hip. “Tell me, do you know anything about his life before he came to work for you?”
They both looked at the dust settling in Fernsby’s wake. “I thought about putting a private investigator on him. But then I tossed the idea. It’s better that Fernsby remains a mystery.”
She had to agree.
* * *
They’d worked straight through for two days, to their hearts’ desire, as Fernsby put it, and they’d accomplished so much. Today, the morning dawned bright and beautiful. Dane had a need for something different, perhaps a round of golf on the nine-hole course he’d had built on the island.
So far, spring had been rather cool in the Bay Area, and Dane relished the heat of the Caribbean. He hadn’t come here while Cammie was on family leave. Somehow the sea and the sun were so much more relaxing when she was with him.
He’d lain awake last night with more of his crazy thoughts, like padding along the lanai to her French doors. They’d be standing open. Cammie loved the scent of the ocean and the breeze that blew through during the night. He thought incessantly of blowing through the doors himself, just like the breeze. The thought had been so inviting that his body clenched tight. She was so close. And yet, so far away, as the saying went.
His fantasies seemed so much more potent after that hug in Sebastian Montgomery’s hallway, after the crazy need to kiss her almost got the better of him.
With thoughts like that running rampant through his nights, maybe coming to the island hadn’t been the best idea. Especially with Fernsby a quarter mile away. Because now nothing stood between them.
Nothing except the rules.
For two days, he’d repeated that to himself. Remember the rules. Even if he’d started to hate them.
But as much as they kept her safe, they kept him safe too. Kept him from making a mistake, kept him from pushing her away by asking for more than she could give.
Over a breakfast of toast and fruit, he suggested, “Let’s play a round of golf.” It had nothing to do with how much he liked watching her swing a golf club in those sexy little sundresses of hers. Or they could go down to the beach, where he liked watching her in those sexy swimsuits just as much.
But then he’d have to slap himself for his thoughts.
Those errant thoughts were also why he used the Pebble Beach home gym at a different time than she did. Watching her in her tight leggings and skimpy workout tops drove him just a little bit mad.
“Great idea.” Cammie gave a little fist pump. “I haven’t golfed in months.” Then she added with a smile, “We always do our best brainstorming while I’m beating you.”
“Beating me?” he scoffed. “We’ll see about that.”
Even as he was beating her, she’d have her recorder going, and the brainstorming transcript would magically appear a few hours later.
A most irreverent thought occurred to him. What if he touched her? What if he kissed her? What if it was all on that recording?
The idea made him smile. Even as it heated him up.
Of course it was just another of his many daydreams.
The island wasn’t big enough for eighteen holes, but Dane had eked out enough land for nine. Right after breakfast, they hit the course and tossed around ideas.
“I like Daniel’s idea of finding something in Tahoe,” she said behind him as he lined up his ball. “We’ll have the sand for volleyball games and the lake right there for swimming. And what do you think about putting in a nine-hole golf course as well?”
“I love the way you think,” Dane agreed as he whacked his ball and overshot the hole by a wide margin. His mind wasn’t on this game, but on that long-ago golf game. Twelve years ago, to be exact.
He’d gone out that day to hit a few balls and ease the tension out of his muscles. He’d needed to get away from his office mess. Where better to go than the golf course he owned, especially since he had a condo there where he could shower after the game? He hadn’t known who she was when he’d spotted her. He’d been playing alone. She’d played alone too. Then they’d been playing together. He’d been about to introduce himself when she’d held up her hand. “No names,” she’d said in the sexiest damn voice that seemed to curl around his insides. “That way, I’ll feel more comfortable playing cutthroat.”
No names. A mystery woman.
And cutthroat she’d been. So had he, even as he drove himself crazy every time he got near her. He remembered the way she smelled, some citrusy scent that mesmerized him. Just the way her fruity scent mesmerized him now, like the fresh mangoes they’d had for breakfast.
With his very first sight of her, his heart had tried to beat itself right out of his chest.
“And we’ll offer all the necessary facilities, a physical therapy room with all the equipment, as well as providing therapists,” she was saying.
But he was thinking how physical that game had become. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the way her body moved. He’d damn near salivated. That little wiggle when she stood in front of the ball lining up her shot. The graceful movements of every muscle as she swung. How badly he wanted to put his hands on her and feel her body’s moves with each swing.
“Do you think we should have a big hall with family-style dining—long tables where everyone sits together?” She stopped for a moment to look at him, flushing as if his thoughts were written all over his face. Just like they had been that day. She rushed on, “Or maybe we should have more intimate dining. Tables for two and four or six, where people can talk more easily than in a big group.”
That word. Intimate. He thought of how intimate they’d gotten after that golf game. Even as he knew he shouldn’t think about it at all. Even as it did things to his body in this moment.
“We should have both,” he said. He wanted both, business and pleasure. With her.
“Yeah.” She nodded, turning back to the ball. “We need both.”
He never should have hugged her at Sebastian’s house. Now his body remembered the feel of her against him. While she was grieving for her uncle, he’d been having lustful thoughts, making him a complete ass. Even as he admitted that, he couldn’t stop looking at her in that too sexy sundress, couldn’t stop thinking about touching her, kissing her.
Just the way he’d been thinking that day during their first sexy, mind-blowing golf game.
* * *
She couldn’t concentrate. Her thoughts were scattered all over the place. She was throwing out ideas that were already on their list, for Pete’s sake. They were supposed to be talking logistics—geology reports, engineering drawings, how to start building. But her mind wouldn’t work properly. It was how close he stood, how good he smelled, how hard his muscles were as he swung.
Just like that other golf game.
She tried to sound coherent. “We need a full gym and workout area. And a massage therapy room.” Her nerves were jumping. Every time they’d played golf since that day, her body had tingled with the memory of that night. Her body tingled now with the memory of his touch, his kiss, his scent.
“We need a pickleball court too,” he said.
She laughed, the sound a little strangled. “Of course we need a pickleball court.”
She remembered how he’d stood there that day, setting up for a shot, the sun making his hair gleam blue-black, his body so tempting she’d wanted to lick him like an ice cream cone. She’d been at the golf course only because Clyde had said her jitters were making him edgy. He’d told her to get some exercise to burn off all that nervous energy. She’d had that interview the next day with one of Clyde’s associates, whom she’d never met. And Clyde had made her swear she wouldn’t research the man beforehand. That had been a big mistake.
But Clyde had insisted, “I don’t want you to have any preconceptions.” Despite Clyde having told her the job was in the bag—he’d obviously been singing her praises—she couldn’t count on anything. And she’d gone out to the golf course to play and relax.
Then he had come along, a man so handsome, so sexy that she’d forgotten all her nerves about the job interview. In fact, she’d forgotten the interview completely. There’d only been him.
She’d challenged him with that no-names thing and playing cutthroat. She just hadn’t imagined exactly what cutthroat meant. He’d made wisecracks, sidling close to her, saying things like, “Do you really want to take your shot that way? Maybe you should try it this way.” Then he’d stand right behind her, less than a breath of air between them, and guide her hands on the club. His sexy, slightly sweaty male scent had made her dizzy. It had been so hard not to let him throw her off her game. Hot and cold shivers had run up and down her spine. At some point, she’d leaned back, felt him against her, all of him.
The game—and the games—continued, touches that weren’t necessary, his breath against her hair as he whispered how good her stroke was, what a good grip she had on the shaft of her club, all those innuendoes making her crazy as much as they made her laugh. Everything was so much sexier without names. He was a seductive stranger she’d never have to see again.
“We should have single rooms as well as family cottages,” she said, her voice too sexy, too husky as her memories made her hot and bothered, ready to turn around and jump him. Just the way she’d wanted to that day. “And we should also have dorm rooms the kids can share, as if they’re at school.”
Did she even make sense anymore?
Yet everything had seemed to make so much sense that day. He’d enchanted her with his touches, his whispers, his hard body, his sexual innuendos. And when she’d won the game—had he let her win? She’d never asked—he’d said, “This calls for champagne.” He’d had a condo right on the golf course and not taking up his offer had never been an option. She would have followed him anywhere.
His taste had been exquisite, his lovemaking so beautiful it still made her ache late at night. He’d made her forget the lover who’d broken her heart as if the man had never existed.
“We need to have the best chef,” he said.
She laughed. “You’re always thinking about food.” The champagne and appetizers had been exquisite that night. And he’d been exquisite, knowing exactly how to touch her.
“I’m always thinking about life’s pleasures.” His smile reached deep down inside her to all those memories, to all that pleasure he’d given her, to the taste of him on her tongue, the feel of him inside her.
She’d never known such dazzling sensations as those he’d given her that night.
What would have happened if she hadn’t walked into the interview the next morning and discovered that Dane Harrington, her potential new employer, was the very man who’d made such beautiful love to her the night before?