CHAPTER 3
Connor’s body ached as though he’d been tortured. The room smelled like warm, old wood. The bedding was soft with age. He propped himself on an elbow and squinted at the morning light streaming in through the bedroom window. He was wearing what he’d worn yesterday and he was on that island with the over-eager assistant who confused him. What the heck was her name? She had amazing breasts.
He went to adjust his morning wood before realizing that it, too, was broken. No erection, not even a hint of one.
He sighed.
Things were worse than he’d been letting on.
Groaning, he sat up. Why was he so sore? It was as if every muscle had been strung tight in the night. He stretched tentatively, the aches slowly subsiding.
If this was an effect of the fatigue, he might need longer than two days to get his feet under him again.
He shook his head and blinked away the uncomfortable sensation in his head. No, he had a plan. A deadline. He always met his deadlines. Being tired wasn’t going to affect that. He’d just buckle down and relax while he was here. Get it done. Then on Monday he’d get back at it.
Simple.
He stepped into the quiet living room, wondering if his assistant had set up coffee. He stood for a moment, getting his bearings. Coffee to the right. No, left. Yes, right.
Where was she? Wasn’t she staying here, too?
He moved into the kitchen, which had been added on at some point and didn’t quite match the rest of the cottage, other than for its slightly neglected feel.
He lifted the coffeepot and gave it a shake. Empty. He found coffee in the cupboard, water, hit the brew button and waited. This was a really quiet coffeemaker, considering how old it looked.
He turned to a small radio on the counter and tuned it to FM 96.3. Smiling as the kitchen filled with the sounds of his favorite opera. Humming to the music, he allowed the counter to support him as he watched the coffeepot. What was wrong with the thing? There was no coffee dripping into it.
The screen door banged, followed by the light padding of feet across the living room before another door shut. He hurried toward the sound. He needed coffee. What the hell kind of game was his assistant playing? And where was his breakfast?
He pushed open the closed door and was met with a squeal.
Maya, her hair streaming water, tugged the top of her bathing suit over her exposed flesh. “Didn’t we go over this already?” she snapped.
“This isn’t the bathroom.”
“Do I really have to explain what closed doors mean?”
“What are you doing?”
She grabbed the edge of the door and slammed it shut, Connor barely getting out of the way in time. The lock clicked into place.
“Your coffeemaker doesn’t work.”
“We’re on an island, Connor.” There was a bitterness in her voice as well as a “duh.”
“And? Hawaii is an island and they have working coffeemakers. Same with Tahiti, Jamaica…”
“We don’t have power out here.”
He nearly tried opening the door again. No power? But he’d just been listening to the radio. Batteries. Right. Then why have appliances if there wasn’t power? That was really screwed up. Wait, hadn’t she mentioned something about a generator?
This place required so much work.
He dropped his hand from the doorknob. She was probably fully nude by now, covering those perfect breasts in a fine lace bra. He pushed a fist against his forehead. What was his problem? He was fantasizing about seeing his assistant naked and he couldn’t even get a decent erection.
Sighing, he tipped his head forward until his fist was pinned between his skull and the door.
His eyelids drifted shut. He should go back to bed.
The door opened and he fell into the room, crashing past Maya to the floor. His face mashed into an area rug and his shoulders screamed from the effort of trying to slow the impact with his arms.
“Were you peeking through the keyhole?”
He groaned and pushed himself onto his back. “No, I was falling asleep.”
“Are you narcoleptic?”
He cracked a smile. “No, but my caffeine levels are dangerously depleted.” He licked his lips. His top one was already starting to swell.
“Do you want me to start the generator for coffee?” She leaned closer, taking on a sympathetic caring vibe that made him cover his face before struggling to sit up.
Everything was such an effort.
“I’m going back to bed.”
“Do you want coffee?”
He shook his head. The idea of getting to his feet and struggling back to his room was too much to contemplate. Maybe he could just sleep here. It felt good not having to hold up his body.
He stared at her bare ankles. Her long legs disappearing into cute shorts. That fine waist of hers. T-shirt; no crappy business attire. What did that mean? Wasn’t she supposed to be an executive assistant?
“You look good from this angle,” he said.
She whacked him with her wet bathing suit.
He let out a chuckle. He liked her spark.
“I swim around the island every morning when I’m here. So don’t come barging into my room, because I never miss my morning swim.”
“Never?”
“Never.”
Determined little thing. “I used to swim.”
“Used to? What, did you forget how to ride a bike, too?”
“You’re snarky.”
She shifted her weight as though determining whether to apologize.
He reached for her. “Help me up.”
“How’d you get so old?” she asked, struggling to help him. He kind of wished she’d do all the work, but apparently they’d need a crane for that.
“I’m one of those working stiffs they warn you about,” he grunted. Oh, the irony of that statement. He definitely did not have something stiff that worked at the moment.
“I hardly think running your own company makes you a working stiff. And you know you can swim while you’re here. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten how.”
Connor, finally on his feet, felt out of breath. He gave a fake perky hop to dispel the worry in Maya’s eyes. His entire body was way too heavy to be able to function properly and there was no way he could fake a spring in his step for longer than his little hop. Not like Maya. She was all spring and bounce and perkiness. A spitfire. A sexy, sexy spitfire.
“Maybe later I’ll swim around the island.”
Maya shook her head briskly. “No, you need to start by going across the strait to the left of the boathouse. It’s shallowest there and you might be able to stand if you need to.”
“Are you calling me an out-of-shape wimp?”
“Well, you don’t exactly look as though you are doing great, now do you?” She crossed her arms over her perfect chest and raised an eyebrow.
“You’re such a bitch.”
She leaned closer, giving him a proud smirk that made him want to kiss her. “I heard businessmen enjoy that in a woman.”
This girl was going to be trouble. The fun kind of trouble.
* * *
Connor sat on the veranda and sipped his coffee, loving the way the midday sun was scorching everything but him. He still couldn’t quite figure out why he wasn’t wigging out and stressed about all the things he had to do at work. Normally, sleeping away a Saturday morning as he just had would have anxiety building within him like pressure in a shaken bottle of champagne. Instead, his anxiety merely hovered in the background, a low hum, until he decided to fret about it. Then his heart rate would skyrocket, his chest would grow tight and his hands clench until they ached.
Just thinking about being anxious made his muscles start to contract. No wonder he’d woken up sore. He’d probably slept this way, his subconscious fretting that he was forgetting something important, something lurking behind a corner that would alter his entire business world.
He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the quiet island sounds rather than an engine that was puttering and shuddering as though it was running rich. He cracked his eyelids as Maya thumped by, likely on a mission to do something involving the wrench she was carrying.
He shut his eyes again, promising himself that if he just chilled out and did nothing, thought about nothing, he’d knock the doctor’s socks off with a new and improved version of himself. A version that could go back to work and figure out why his latest merger felt as if he was pushing a boulder uphill through slick mud. And maybe figure out why the acquisitions his advisor James Culver had been adding to Connor’s portfolio seemed so out of character for the man. Normally, his two advisors were that in name only. They basically sat around, waiting for Connor to hint whether something looked good or not, and even what they should pursue. Then they would help make it happen. Bill Hatfield was great at moving things along, and James had been a solid third in the trio, sorting out details. But suddenly James had started adding projects on his own—with Connor’s approval, of course. It was a refreshing change, but somehow it still left Connor more tired than it should.
The engine sound in the background stabilized, running smoothly for a moment before cutting off.
Maya reappeared, her fingertips coated with grease.
“What the hell are you doing? Rebuilding a plane from the war?”
“Generator.”
He silently reassessed her. She was sassy and unpredictable, and didn’t mind getting her hands dirty—quite literally—if need be. She was also, apparently, smart enough to go to the U of T as well as graduate high in her class.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, shifting his weight, and making the old wicker chair creak.
She gave him a dirty look and continued walking past.
“I meant on this island. Making crappy waffles.”
“Hey, those are the best you can buy in a box.”
“I was promised meals.”
“You’ve been given meals.”
He let out a derisive snort, wanting to see how far he could push her. It was probably her mouth―that mouth with those perfect teeth and lush lips. Her wit. A combo that had probably kept her out of the jobs she wanted or gotten her fired. Or the fact that if her bosses had been like him—only not as broken—they hadn’t been able to keep their hands to themselves around her. Or keep up to her. And in the business world there was nothing more threatening to most men than not being able to keep up with a gorgeous young woman such as Maya.
“Nobody said the meals would be fancy,” she replied.
“I’m trying to get my health back and you’re feeding me processed food.”
“What’s wrong with your health?”
“Nothing. Just trying to eat healthy.” He took a slug of his coffee and went to adjust his shades. His shades. He’d forgotten to put them on this morning. Oh well. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t noticed.
“How’d you get the black eye?”
“Who fired you?” he retorted.
She stepped back as though recovering her balance after a kick to the gut. “When are you going to give me some jobs as your executive assistant?”
“Interesting reaction.”
“Listen, Connor…”
“Make sure your sentences are short. My attention span isn’t at its greatest.”
“Yeah, none of you is.”
“Excuse me?” He stood, only to find the world spinning.
“I’m sorry, but you are not the man I’ve idolized for all these years, and the disappointment is a little bit tough to bear when…” Her eyes squeezed shut for a moment and it seemed as though she was fighting something supersized.
“Well, I’m sorry my life isn’t living up to your dreams, Maya. But I think it’s important to keep in mind that, at the moment, I’m your boss as well as your paying guest.”
She stepped closer, looking tired. “Connor, I am here to help as your assistant, and I apologize for my attitude. Is there something you need from me? Because I need to make a run into port.”
He contemplated kissing her, wondering what she’d do if he did. He gave his head a small shake and sat. They were odd together. She put him off guard, made him act like an ass, but the thing was, he deserved it. All of it. He was a disappointment. Even to himself.
“So? Are you really going back to Toronto?” She jutted a hip, making her legs looking even longer. She was impossible in so many ways, from the length of her legs to her attitude. And the fact that instead of getting miffed at her and her bitchy digs, he wanted to push her into the love seat a few chairs down and make her his. He’d start with her perfect breasts, working his way down to her sweet and spicy ass, then wrap those legs around him to test how strong they really were.
“Hello?” She waved a hand in front of his face, her red nails flashing.
“Monday.”
“Will you be back?”
“I hope not.”
“Then I won’t bother buying you the nice waffles.” The screen door banged shut behind her, making a new sound as the screws came loose in the lower hinge.
He switched to the chair with a better view of the hummingbird feeder, spilling his coffee in the process. He needed to go home. If he stayed here all week he’d undoubtedly push the two of them into a situation where his dick couldn’t back him up.
* * *
Maya spotted her sister Melanie waiting for her in the marina on her motorcycle. Maya plunked herself on the seat behind her, accepting the offered helmet.
“Seriously? The death trap?”
“It’s cheap on gas.”
“Next time can we take the car?”
“Sold it.”
Maya sighed and secured the strap under her chin. They were all making sacrifices for a rotting old building. What was wrong with them? Was this normal behavior? In one of her sociology classes they’d read a case study where the wealthy, in hard times, would drive their BMWs to a food bank far from home, park a few blocks away, then walk in. They’d keep up the pretense that everything was fine as they held on to their symbols of prestige and money, even when they were losing it all.
Was the Summer family—who had never been well-off—doing the same thing? Were they sacrificing everything to keep their symbol of prestige? The one thing that set them apart from the rest of the locals—as if having a rickety old cottage out here somehow made them “more”?
Or was it something else, such as sentimental value?
Melanie gunned the motorcycle’s engine, causing Maya to clutch her so she didn’t get left hanging in the air behind the crotch rocket like an unsuspecting cartoon character.
“Warn me!”
Melanie let out a wild laugh.
“Wow. Who are you and what did you do with Smelly Mellie?”
She laughed again. If she hadn’t been wearing one of her ever-present XXL T-shirts, which served to cover her figure, Maya would think something was seriously wrong with her younger sister.
Melanie did an extra lap around the nursing home where their mother resided. Maya figured her sister was either enjoying the cool air as much as Maya was or else was also dreading going inside the most depressing of all places.
As they got off the motorcycle, tucking their helmets under arm, Maya studied Melanie. “You know what would look fabulous on you?”
“If you say black leather…”
“I’m actually thinking of a 1950s dress with the big skirt and tight bodice. You’d be totally hot. Simone’s started making them for her boutique.”
Melanie scowled at the idea of a dress and headed to the automatic doors. “Well, she’ll will have better luck continuing to sell Hailey’s photos than me a dress. Is Simone coming today?”
“The honorary Summer sister will be here as always. And don’t you wear skirts for work?”
“That’s different. They’re less dressy.”
“Trade in the XXL shirts for me. Please?” Maya clasped her hands under her chin and batted her eyelashes.
Melanie shoved her through the doorway. “So…is he as wonderful as you hoped?”
Maya shivered as the building’s air conditioning hit her like a sudden cold front. “It smells like instant potatoes and desperation in here.”
“Are you avoiding the subject of Connor MacKenzie?”
“He’s an arrogant bum cake.” The man was not the career savior Maya had envisioned, and she was confused by her reaction to him. She wanted to mother him and heal whatever was going on with him, but also to fight with him until he yelled and threw things. Then she wanted to take him to her bed and make love to him all night long. The man she’d admired in the TED talks, conferences and newspaper articles had to be in there somewhere.
“Bum cake?” Her sister laughed. “So, you like him, then?”
“Of course. He’s infuriating as all hell. I can’t decide if I want to hump his brains out or shove him off a boat with a rock tied to his ankles.” She let out a frustrated breath. How could she still be attracted to the jerk when he was so disappointing and so…so sexy?
“Is he smart?”
“Freaking brilliant. And handsome.” She groaned and rolled her head.
“And rich.” Melanie was giving her a grin that meant her sister was totally onto her.
“It’s more than that.” Such as the power he wielded. Serious panty-wetter. “Anyway, I’ll be rich soon enough, too.”
“Starting when, exactly?”
“When he lets me do some work as his assistant and I get some experience to take to Toronto.” Maya clapped her hands together and let out a breath. “Then my life will start.”
“Why are you so focused on Toronto? I just got a job in a law office in Bracebridge, with way less of a commute, a lower cost of living, and a decent wage. Honestly, I’m not sure why people move to the city.”
“Because there are options in the city. More room for growth. That’s where my kind of jobs are, and the men that go with them. Plus one has the added bonus of not having eighty million neighbors coming in expecting special favors, and they don’t spend forty minutes of your appointment chatting you up about your family, health, relationships or lack thereof. And there’s operas and stuff.”
“And you go to operas?”
Maya laughed. “No. But I could.”
“For your information, meetings with neighbors only last five minutes.”
“Forty-five.”
“After the warm-up, five.”
The warm-up was forty. Forty wasted minutes. Every single time you met with someone.
“Think about it,” Melanie continued. “In the city, when you wanted student loans, the loan officer spent twenty minutes verifying your identity and asking about your program. Around here, they already know all that stuff, so they spent the meeting time chatting. You are a person, Maya. It’s an easy appointment and they get the information right. Way better service—and it makes you want to go back again.”
Maya stuck out her tongue.
“You know I’m right.”
“I’m sorry, I thought you were Melanie, not Hailey.”
“Maya…” She gave a little sigh.
“Yeah, yeah. Rivalry-shmivalry. We’re working together to save the cottage, aren’t we? Isn’t she letting me have it for the next two weeks, to make a miracle happen by calling the hellhole an executive retreat?”
“What’s going on with you?”
Maya ran her hands down her thighs. “Nothing. I’m just frustrated. I thought going to university was supposed to open my world.” They paused to let an elderly man wheel by in his chair. “How’s your new job?”
“Fine.”
“Fine? Really? A brilliant job in a lovely town with lovely people who speak of lovely things? You’re not maximizing your degree, either, are you?”
“Nobody does when they first start out. Especially in law.”
“Reality is a wonderful place to be, isn’t it?”
Melanie gave a small laugh. “You know what?”
“What?”
“Sometimes you’re not bad for a sister. Unfortunately, today’s not your day.”
“Shut up,” Maya said with a grin.
Melanie began walking faster, biting back a smile. Maya matched her stride until they were running down the hall in an attempt to be the first to enter their mother’s room.
They rounded the last corner, giggling that none of the nurses had caught them, and ran into Hailey, who frowned and placed a finger over her lips, balancing a homemade triple layer cake on her other hand.
Rivalry? Yeah, it wasn’t dead. Look at Hailey. She was already here, had the cake and was therefore going to enter the room first and get the majority of the credit. Of course there was rivalry. It would never die. Rivalry was what sisters did. It meant they loved each other. To death. However that happened to occur.
Mrs. Kowski, one of the residents, edged by with her walker. “That looks wonderful, Hailey.” Her eyebrows rose hopefully as she stared at the cake, then at Maya’s big sister.
“Come by in ten minutes and you can have a slice, Mrs. Kowski.”
“Will do!” The woman increased her pace, heading to the nearby common room. “Supper around here sucks,” she called over her shoulder. “I always have room for homemade cake!”
Hailey pointed to Daphne, who was struggling out of the common room down the hall with a mittful of helium balloons. Her five-year-old daughter, Tigger, was leaping alongside, trying to make the balloons bounce off her mother’s head, and causing a great deal of static electricity.
Maya laughed. “Who gave Tigger sugar?”
“Maya, light the candles.” Hailey was tense, her mouth drawn into a line.
“Where’s movie boy?” Maya twisted to check the hall. No sign of Finian Alexander. Had he already taken off on her sister? Because if he hurt Hailey, Maya was going to kick his ass all the way from California to Canada. Hailey wasn’t one to take risks, and she’d taken a big one with the bad boy of Hollywood.
“Just light them,” her big sister grumbled. “Matches are in my back pocket.”
“Chill. I’ve got it.” Maya snatched them from Hailey’s pocket and lit the candles. “Tigger’s going to think it’s for her. Five candles.”
Hailey frowned, the line between her eyebrows deepening.
“Relax,” Maya said. “She’ll know.”
Simone, her long black hair waving in time with her brisk stride, hurried up, a small wrapped gift in hand. “Sorry I’m late. Does Catherine know we’re here?” She peeked at the closed door they were gathered around before giving everyone a hug. The others talked over each other as they assured her that she was right on time, and that everything was still a surprise, all while getting themselves organized.
“Who has the gift?” Maya asked.
“I had it delivered,” Melanie said.
“I brought her a handmade silk scarf from my boutique,” Simone added. “Orange, red, and yellow.”
“She’ll love it,” Hailey said.
Maya looked around. Hailey with lit cake. Daphne with balloons. Melanie in charge of the already-delivered gift. Simone with a one-of-a-kind scarf. Maya was the odd one out. “You guys should have told me to do something.”
“You were busy.” Melanie pushed open their mother’s door, nudging Maya so she entered after Hailey, Daphne bringing up the rear with Tigger. “Now sing.”
They all burst into the room, singing loudly as though trying to outdo each other. Catherine’s eyes shone as she grinned from ear to ear.
“Look at all my girls!” Mrs. Summer pulled her granddaughter to her wheelchair and hugged her close, stroking the child’s wild hair. “And look at your pretty party dress.”
“Mr. Finian bought it for me.” Tigger beamed at Hailey.
“Mom,” Maya said, “we all chipped in and bought you a gift. Mellie arranged to have it delivered. Did it arrive?”
“There’s a big box in the corner. What’s in it?”
“A television stand,” Melanie said as Maya leaned over their mother’s chair for a hug. She was waved away as Hailey brought the flaming candles and cake closer.
“Make a wish!” Daphne called.
“For sea monkeys!” Tigger added, gripping the wheelchair’s armrest as she bounced up and down.
Maya drew the girl away, afraid her staticky hair would catch fire. “Why sea monkeys?” she asked, as all but one candle was blown out.
“They’re cool!” Tigger replied. “Look! Grandma has a boyfriend!”
The women laughed, and Catherine blew out the last flame.
“Either that or my lungs don’t work like they used to.” She smiled at the girl. “Did you know I used to never miss a candle? Even the year I turned thirty-seven and your grandfather put thirty-seven candles on my poor little red velvet cake. Not a single one left burning.”
“But there are only five on this cake,” Tigger said. “Five, like me.”
“I know, dear.”
Hailey began passing out slices of cake and Maya tried to make herself useful, but her sister kept elbowing her out of the way. “How’s your hero. What is he? The king of Toronto or something like that?” she asked, finally handing Maya a corner piece—her favorite.
Maya shoved a forkful in her mouth and mumbled something.
“What?” Hailey asked.
“Where’s your movie star boyfriend?” Maya asked through a mouthful of cake.
“Screen test. So? How is the fabled Connor MacKenzie? Is he as great as they say?”
“Yeah. Great.” Maya fixed a smile on her face. If Connor went back early there was no way she was telling Hailey. She’d hide out at Nymph Island alone if she had to. As he had said, he didn’t have to be present for the full two weeks. And unless he fired her or she re-rented the place, there was no reason for him to ask for a refund.
“Good. Do you think we could line up more of these retreats?”
“That’s such a great idea,” Simone exclaimed as Hailey passed her a slice of cake.
Maya gave a half shrug. “Maybe. We’ll see. Hailey, can I borrow Mom’s old recipe book from you?”
Hailey just about dropped the cake-cutting knife in surprise. “Are you planning to cook?”
“Just a couple of things, such as waffles.”
“But you like food that comes in a box. No fuss, no muss.”
“Yeah, but it’s not exactly executive fare.”
“Good point. I could help if you want?”
“It’s okay. You’re busy, too.” Maya scooted in next to her mother as her sisters, Simone and Tigger began trying to put together the gift. Finding they needed an Allen key, the bickering sisters headed off to see if they could convince the maintenance man to come help. Having decided it would increase their chances of success if they all went, they filed out, leaving Maya behind to keep the birthday girl company.
Catherine placed a cool hand over hers. “How are you, Maya?”
Maya angled her head so it was resting on her mom’s shoulder. “Okay.”
“Just okay?”
“I don’t think Connor MacKenzie is going to be my ticket into the business world.”
“Of course he isn’t.” Catherine gazed down at her, and if Maya closed her right eye, she blocked out the side that had been affected by the stroke and could see only the side that still looked like her mom, not a frail old woman who was close to completing her circle of life. Maya’s heart constricted, and her mother squeezed her hand.
“Only you can be your own ticket.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean do this on your own. Go and make connections.”
“But I am. I have the grades, and the guts and the instinct and the drive.”
“But are you connecting with people?”
“Mom, it’s the twenty-first century. The internet is popular for a reason—so we don’t have to connect. We can just go out and get the job done.”
“And are they getting the job done with strangers? Or are connections and networks still vital, my dear?”
Maya pushed away from her mother. Catherine was usually uncannily perceptive, but to tell her to go network and connect? That seemed a tad old-fashioned for what she had in mind.
“Go take someone out for a round of golf?” she kidded.
“I’m serious, Maya.” Catherine smiled, the damaged side of her mouth going along for the ride. She tipped her chin. “Try it. And report back.”
While there weren’t many people Maya listened to, she listened to her mother. “Do I have to?” she whined.
Her mom reached over and gave her ear a playful tug. “Yes.”
“I suppose golf would be more fun than sitting around in a boring old cottage with sketchy internet.” And it sure beat trying to write business articles for money.
“My Maya.” Her mother shook her head and looked to the ceiling.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll try it.” Maybe.
* * *
Maya paced outside the bedroom where Connor was sleeping. He’d been asleep when she’d got back from her mom’s party, his door closed. And it was still shut.
She’d read an entire business book last night while waiting for him to wake up from what she thought was an early evening nap. She wanted to pick his brain about counteroffers, as well as the ideas she’d read been reading about. Enough down time, it was work time.
Was he still here? Maybe he’d figured out how to get a water taxi, and had left.
Or, oh no, what if he’d tried swimming around the island? He was obviously in no condition to do so. She should have followed her instinct to take him to see a doctor. Now his death by drowning would be all her fault. There weren’t any riptides or scary currents, but in places the rocky shore dipped straight down into deep water, leaving no easy exit from the unrelenting waves unless you somehow made it around to the quieter side, where there was a sandy, shallow area near the boathouse.
Maya hadn’t gone for her own swim yet and debated doing so now, to see if she could find Connor. But then a shuffling sound on the other side of the door made her step back. Connor opened it and stood in the doorway staring blankly at her, his hair an adorable mess, his eyes bleary.
He was hot when he was sleepy.
“What?” he asked.
She gave a shrug, her movements too quick to pass off innocence.
Remembering herself, she pushed a cup of lukewarm coffee into his hand. “Glad to see you didn’t drown.”
“What?”
“Nothing. Good morning. Would you like to play golf?”
Connor closed his bedroom door.
“Jerk much?” she muttered.
“I heard that.”
“Yeah, the soundproofing is bar none.”
“You snore.”
“It’s the mice. I’m going for a swim.”
The door opened again, and he was without a shirt. His skin was soft, pale. He needed to get outside for some vitamin D. He had broad shoulders like someone who used to work out or be active, but time behind a desk had done something…. He needed her to feed him and build him up again.
“You’re too skinny,” she said. “You need a big breakfast.”
“How’s the water?”
“Cold.” She wanted to bond with the guy, not swim with him. Swimming was for her. Alone. She didn’t need to worry about him drowning.
“Cold just like you.”
“Yes, but the water warms up in the sun.” She spun on her heel, then, unable to resist, turned and stuck out her tongue.
“You plan to use that tongue?” he asked, stepping forward with a swagger.
Her jaw dropped. But pushing her shock aside, she strutted back to him, exaggerating her hip sway in a way she knew he noticed.
That’s right. Eat up what you can’t have, honey.
She leaned close and he licked his lips, his chest expanding. She whispered, “I do, but I promise you won’t be so lucky to find it used on you.”
He laughed, a rich, deep sound that reverberated through her, making her want to hear it again and again.
“Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep,” he said, lightly touching her shoulder.
She ignored the shivers and the way her body tightened at his touch. “Then I’ll assume you are going to find a way to up your charm.” She flicked a look over her shoulder as she waltzed away. “Considerably.”
Again, that laugh.
“I’ll do my best, Maya.” He leaned against the doorjamb, sipping his coffee.
She paused, half turning. “Do you like your coffee black?” She hadn’t ever asked him, just brought it out the way she took hers.
He gave a shrug. “I’m easy.”
“I’ll remember that.” She shot him a wink and went to her room to rifle through her bathing suits. Discarding the bikinis as trying too hard, she went for the less obvious, a knock-out red suit cut high on her hips and low over her breasts. She might have to stop swimming a few times to slip the straps up her shoulders again, but that would be worth it, seeing as today was her last shot at convincing Connor to stay, before he went back to Toronto and quite possibly didn’t return.
Towel draped over her shoulder, she grabbed the coffeepot from the kitchen, topping up Connor’s cup as she walked past him on her way out of the cottage. She paused as she poured, ensuring she inhaled mightily, letting her chest expand and rise, her suit dipping down as she matched the inhalation with a slight back-arching stretch.
Connor’s attention strayed to her cleavage.
“There’s sun on the end of the dock. It’s a quiet place to chill out if you get bored up here.”
If she could get him to chill out, stay awake and relax, she could pump him for business advice while sunbathing after her swim. Maybe even find a way to use him as a job reference—even though he’d yet to give her any work to do.
Not waiting for him to reply, she added a wiggle to her hips and made her way down to the water, knowing that if he decided to navigate the path, she was going to get what she’d come for.
* * *
That woman was trouble.
Connor loved a challenge more than anything, but he was too tired. Too old. That hot little red bathing suit had stirred something inside, but still…he was too broken, and way too tired.
He sat on the edge of his bed and sipped the coffee. Black coffee wasn’t bad. It was something he’d moved to about six months ago, when the fatigue had started sneaking in. Cut out sugar. Get that caffeine straight into the system.
It hadn’t helped. And he missed the warm, sweet creaminess of a double-double.
He set the cup aside. He needed to do something. He couldn’t go on this way—barely living. Even if Dr. Tiang said he could go back to work tomorrow, how long would he last before he was running into door frames again?
The push of gravity was strong, and Connor lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind blank. He rolled over, reaching for his bag beside the bed. He rummaged through his things, wondering what he should do. No laptop. No BlackBerry.
He was free. But free to do what, exactly?
Finding an envelope addressed to him, he tugged it out and hauled himself into the living room, where he collapsed on a chair near a crammed bookcase. He ripped open the envelope and felt a heavy sadness as he fingered the thick vellum. Rubbing his nose, Connor sighed and read the invitation. He’d already told his kid brother, Curtis, that he’d come to his wedding in Tahiti, but how had he not opened the invitation, when the wedding was only two weeks away? No wonder his brother had called and emailed a few times, to make sure he was still coming to act as his best man.
But how was Connor going to find time to go—assuming Stella or Em had organized tickets for him? Two extended weekends so close together was an insane idea, and familiar anxiety took root and flourished within him. He placed the invitation on the side table and reminded himself that at least it wasn’t another ex-girlfriend inviting him to a christening. He sagged further into the armchair.
Real life was moving along without him. He had no wife. No kids. No pets. Nothing to go home to. No one to miss him. Nothing to give him balance, as the doctor had suggested.
Balance. Connor was the CEO of his own company. You didn’t get there by balancing your world like a Zen master.
He didn’t even know what balance looked like. Was it a week off once a year? Someone to cuddle with? Skipping the high-fat salad dressing?
He snatched up his brother’s wedding invitation and stared at the empty box waiting for a checkmark beside the words with guest. His eyes burned. It felt like a dig.
Connor knew how his evening would go. He’d sit alone, feeling tired and wishing he was at work. He’d probably resent the time away from solving problems that kept popping up and that only he could solve.
His heart rate increased and he pushed out of the chair, grabbing the first book that came to hand. The Fall: Tales from the Apocalypse. Perfect. Something dark and brooding that wouldn’t remind him about his failure to get a real life. A life with meaning, people, love and commitment. A life where someone would have his back even through the tough times. Someone who didn’t want anything other than his love and company.
Yeah, that’s probably what a real life and balance looked like. Pretty much everything he didn’t have.
He stood on the veranda for a moment, clutching the book. If he went down to the dock, he’d have to come back up. He berated his old-fogey thinking and made his way down to the water. No sign of his spitfire Maya, just the old boathouse that was trying to yoga-move its way back down into nature. He tugged one of the Muskoka chairs farther into the sun and sat back, letting the rays dig into his skin. It felt good. Warm. Bright. How long had it been since he’d let the sun bake him, make him feel whole and real again? Happy.
Wait... Happy?
When had he stopped being happy?
Too much thinking. He was supposed to be filling his head with healthy thoughts so he could merge back into the rat race as though this pit stop had never happened.
He inhaled slowly, and thought back to the staff retreat they’d had a few years ago. What had that guru dude chanted? Empty thoughts? Clear mind? Something like that.
Think nothing. Think nothing. Think nothing.
But he was thinking something. He was thinking about not thinking.
This was dumb.
He drew in a deep breath and held it for thirty seconds, then let it explode out his mouth. Maybe he should swim. That walk down the path hadn’t been so bad; this retreat was already making him feel better. But he’d have to walk back up the hill to get his trunks, then down again, then back up after his swim. Too much work, and the sun felt too good.
Two ducks eyed him as they swam around the corner of the dock, vanishing under the boathouse door. Within a few moments they leisurely paddled out again, tilting their heads at him before heading across to the seemingly vacant cottages across the strait.
Tomorrow he’d have to bring down bread. Tomorrow? What was he thinking? Tomorrow he was getting back on that boat and heading to Toronto, his R&R complete, not feeding ducks.
A bulldozer started up across the water, the sound carrying to him as though it was right next door. Great. He came all the way down here to chill out—okay, and to see Maya wet and dripping in her Baywatch suit—and they had to ruin the ambience with a ’dozer?
He turned away, hoping to have a catnap, not wanting to allow himself to get intrigued by whatever project was happening across the water. He was on vacation. Relaxing.
Breathing.
Not thinking about what new project was under way.
Breathing.
Listening to purposeful splashing come closer with each stroke.
Maya.
He pried an eye open and watched her come nearer, until her hand tapped the dock like an Olympic racer. He half expected her to do a flip and push off, to go around the island again in the opposite direction. Instead, she hauled herself up out of the lake, ignoring the ladder.
He should have worn his shades, so he could drink her in. She was hot. Maybe even hotter because he knew what she looked like under that red Lycra. Knew exactly where the streaming rivulets of water were heading as they glided down her chin, raced over her collarbone and vanished into the valley between her breasts.
Thank goodness he was so exhausted, or he’d have an erection so big she’d slap him hard across the face for being a testosterone-crazed member of the male species. Even so, he found he had to drape a hand casually across his crotch to hide his partial.
“Wow, look at you, all awake.” Maya scrubbed at her hair with the towel, pausing to tip her head to let water drain out of her ears.
“Restorative powers of Muskoka.” He glanced to his crotch. Only not quite restorative enough.
“I haven’t heard anyone talk about them since the 1800s,” she said with a laugh.
“You’ve aged well, then.”
She smiled, with a welcoming friendliness that made him want to hold her, feel her heartbeat against his chest, her head nuzzled under his chin. That, and peel the suit off her wet skin.
He was lonely. That’s what that feeling was. Huh. He’d never thought that would happen, but somehow it had pounced, lingering like a sorry state of neglected affairs.
Maya wrapped the towel around herself and pulled up a chair beside his. “Plans for the day?” she asked. “A little work? Maybe some golf?”
“Not golf.”
“Tennis?”
“Too much effort. It’s going to be hot. The tree frogs are already singing.”
She let out a small, defeated-sounding sigh. “Reading then?”
“Maybe.” He flipped over the book, staring at the blurb on the back. Earlier in the week he hadn’t been able to follow new project layouts. What were the chances he’d be able to focus on a collection of short stories? He set the book aside. What was he going to do when he went back to work, if his brain refused to engage?
“You okay?” Her cool fingers landed on his arm, and he flinched.
“You’re cold.”
“Cold bitch, I believe, if I string all your compliments together.”
“My apologies. Put like that, I sound like a regular ass.”
“Well, it’s probably true. My mom told me to make connections with people. Network the old-fashioned way, because I’m…you know…a cold and determined bitch. You understand how it is. Fine for a man, but not for a woman.”
Her mouth turned down, and he felt for her, but her mother was right. Most new grads thought good grades made it a given that they would start at a six-figure salary, with three weeks paid holidays. And most of all, that they would be worth it. But they had no connections, were often a liability in their eagerness, and yes, women such as Maya were often dubbed a bitch. Yet she had the guts and strength to really go far if she didn’t let the double standard get under her skin and make her resentful.
“Your mother is right,” he said. “Make connections and network, get as much experience as possible and work your ass off. Literally. You’ll make it.”
Maya chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, looking uncomfortable.
“What’s your favorite color?” she asked.
“Green.”
“Mine, too.”
How did he get stuck on an island with a woman like Maya? She probably had a more detailed five-year plan than he did, but was still lacking the basics that five minutes in the business world would teach her. “Are you trying to…connect with me?” he asked. She had to be kidding.
“Am I that bad?”
“Try being less obvious. You know, authentic. Genuine.”
“Right. Arlene Dickinson, the entrepreneur millionaire from Dragons’ Den, said that in her book Persuasion.”
Connor refrained from rolling his eyes. Maya was so green it almost hurt to even sit here and listen to her.
She nodded as though coming to a conclusion. “Why didn’t you finish your business degree?”
“Cutting to the chase now, are you?”
“Why not? Time is money.”
“Not at the moment, it isn’t.”
Her feet had begun twitching and he chuckled. Chitchat was killing her. “Do you know how to sit still?”
“No. Do you know how to talk about things that aren’t business?”
“Of course.”
“Then start a topic.”
“I dropped out of business school because I made more during my third-year project than most graduates did in a year. Wouldn’t you quit and follow the trail of money?”
“You fail.”
“Excuse me?”
“That was a topic about business.”
“I was answering your question.”
“New topic.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Show me how to connect.”
“You are persistent. Unrelenting.” He’d enjoy it if he was in Toronto and not trying to chill out. In fact, he’d likely have asked her out for a drink by now. But this was Muskoka and his vacation. “So, Maya, tell me why you think I can help you get ahead in the business world.”
“Fail again. Business related.”
“Maya. For real.”
“If not you, then who?”
“You tire me, woman.”
She sat back, looking sad and rejected. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t lead someone with such passion and eagerness into a world that might give her so much it would consume her. It wasn’t the same world he’d stepped into seven-and-a-half years ago, making millions as easily as sweeping up sawdust in a sawmill.
“I’m heading into Toronto at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. Nothing personal, but I don’t know that I’ll be back.”