HE SHOULD HAVE brought his headphones.
The land set aside for the butterfly sanctuary was surprisingly impressive. A blank slate, for the most part. He’d heard about the dispute over where to settle the education center the town hoped would attract visitors fascinated with the migratory habits and preservation plans for the monarchs and other butterflies. The vista of trees that stretched before him and up the main road was thick and enticing, giving the observer the feeling of being swallowed by a force of nature.
He wasn’t the greatest identifier of flora and fauna, but he could smell the eucalyptus in the air, and as he looked up, the lush leaves and enticing branches seemed to flicker in the sunlight. Not that any of this was spurring his imagination.
He tried to follow Calliope’s advice, but “listening” in a silence he wasn’t used to left him feeling antsy. His ability to focus was shot. All he saw was dirt, trees and the faint hint of light filtering through the branches and treetops.
He’d been staring at the same blank page for more than twenty minutes. Wasn’t being here supposed to boost his creativity?
“You being here must mean you’re now open to all possibilities.”
He should have been startled to hear her voice, but somehow it made sense. The anxiety clawing inside him eased. Every time he saw her, he was struck by her beauty—a beauty that radiated from the inside out. “Good morning.”
“You look as if you could use a refill.” Calliope lowered herself to the ground beside him, one of her handwoven baskets in her arms. She pulled out a large metal thermos and refilled his coffee. How a woman could move so smoothly, so fluidly, like a mermaid in the water, was beyond him. She wore a dress of fire colors today—orange, yellow and red. The combination put the sun to shame as it warmed him and made him shiver at the same time.
“Now that’s service.” He sipped gratefully and appreciated the faint taste of chicory. “Let me guess. Jason told you where I was.”
“I probably would have guessed eventually.” She pulled back the napkin in the basket to reveal thick slices of homemade bread. “In case you get hungry.”
“Thank you.” The worry on her face had faded, but her melancholy made his stomach clench. He lifted a hand, brushed his finger over her cheek. “You okay?”
“Mostly.” Her sad smile broke his heart. “You, on the other hand...”
“Me, what?” Because it was the perfect distraction, he drank more coffee. “Those plans I drew up will work perfectly here, you know. All it’ll mean is moving forward with the excavation of the trees—”
Her sharp intake of breath cut him off. He glanced over at her. Given the way the muscle in her jaw pulsed, he figured he’d said the wrong thing. Again.
“It’s impossible to build what you need without clearing the way. And this isn’t just about the structure itself, Calliope. There will be outer buildings as well, and a parking lot. And there will need to be a clear path to that view—”
“Have you seen the view yet?”
“Well, yeah.” He leaned over and pointed dead ahead. “It’s right there through those trees.”
He swore he heard her tsk at him.
“No wonder you’re clinging to your original plans. You haven’t seen this place yet. Not for what it really is.” She set aside the basket and stood up, reaching for his hand. “You need a different viewpoint.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ll agree with you.” He grabbed hold before she changed her mind. The second his hand clasped hers, he had the odd inclination to never let go.
“If we are going to work together, we need to try to see things from the other person’s point of view.”
Had she tried to see his? “Yeah, I was just looking at your point of—”
“No.” Calliope shook her head, sending the long curls lying against her back to swaying. “You weren’t. Come. Leave those. And that.” She tossed his cell phone onto the top of his bag. “I want you to see with your eyes. Your soul. Not through a lens.”
“You really should give nature tours, you know that?”
“I’ve been known to.” The smile she tossed him over her shoulder as he followed her into the stand of trees made his heart skip. “I know I’ve no right to ask.” She stopped beside a thick eucalyptus. “Not after the kindness you provided yesterday, but I’d like for you, just today, to put everything aside. All your worries, all the concerns you brought with you. Those obligations that are weighing so heavy on your heart.”
She stepped closer and pressed her palm flat against his chest. He looked down and tried to stop his pulse from jumping. She had felt so warm, so...perfect against him. It was all he could do not to grasp her wrist and keep her connected to him forever.
“Try to stop dwelling on everything out there and see what I do. What I’d like everyone who comes here to see. This isn’t just a building we’re talking about constructing, Xander. It’s going to be a home.”
The smell of eucalyptus surrounded him here. Inhaling, he caught the fragrance of damp earth and grass. A cleanness that carried just a hint of the ocean he could hear far below them.
As they walked through the close-knit trees, the light faded, replaced by thin beams that made the leaves and air glisten. Whatever silence had been pressing in on him a few moments before increased. But not in that uncomfortable, deafening way that made him uneasy.
“Here.” Calliope tilted up her chin to the sky and drew him into a circle of trees with an opening barely big enough for the both of them. “Here. Sit with me.” She clasped both of his hands and sank to the ground.
He followed, not that she gave him much choice. His jeans provided little barrier to the damp earth and a chill dropped over them. Still she clung to his hands, twining her fingers with his as she continued to gaze up into the endless cascading branches and leaves.
“Look, Xander. Really look and tell me what you see.” Her words were a whisper in the breeze, but her face was alight with a happiness and peace he didn’t think he’d ever encountered before.
What did he see? He saw a woman who could have passed for a muse, an inspiration for beauty and joy and peace.
“As flattered as I am, stop looking at me.” She leaned forward and for a moment, he thought she might kiss him. Instead she pressed her finger beneath his chin and tilted up his head. “Now look.”
It took a moment for his eyes to focus, to see beyond the crisscross of limbs and leaves and branches that had probably been here long before he’d ever heard of Butterfly Harbor.
“Listen.” Her whispered command sent a shiver down his spine.
A flicker of movement caught his eye, within...no, around the outcropping of branches overhead. He could hear a vibration of sorts, a gentle buzz or hum that danced along the edge of the air. The trees were moving. Beneath the roof of sky barely visible through the thin cracks between the trees, they moved in time with his pulse. Like wings beating...
Wings.
“Those aren’t leaves.” He didn’t know why he thought he needed to tell her. Clearly, she knew that the clusters of paper-thin flittering and fluttering leaves were the late season monarchs that called the eucalyptus trees home.
Calliope’s fingers tightened around his. He held on, clung to her as he wished he could climb closer, examine every detail of the creatures piled on top of one another in orchestrated rest. For a moment, he swore he could. For a moment, he felt as if he’d been lifted out of his body to float up and around and through the hundreds...thousands of countless winged creatures clinging to vines and each other in gentle promise.
The stained-glass windows of their wings were more intricate and delicate than any created by man. Had he ever taken a moment to look closely at a butterfly? Let alone a cascade of them? Antennae flickered, and tiny, thread-thin legs twitched. Wings beat a soothing rhythm that he could feel brushing against his heart.
“What you propose will damage this grove,” Calliope whispered. “Will damage the refuge they’ve sought for longer than either of us has lived on this earth. Which of these creatures would you cast out, Xander? Which does not deserve to exist in this world we’ve already made so dangerous for them?”
Blinking, he snapped out of what he could only describe as a trance. “What would you have me do, Calliope?” As much as he appreciated the sentiment and concern, as much as he was certain he could come to agree with her, practicality and reality stood in his way. “I was hired to do a job. With or without me, someone is going to build this facility and I can guarantee, they won’t be willing to sit in this grove with you and listen to the butterflies.”
She smiled and was about to turn away, when he caught her hand in his.
“I will admit,” he continued, “what I’ve seen here gives me pause. But I don’t see a solution that will make you happy. Some of these trees will have to go.”
“Some.” She tilted her head and he swore he saw a spark of triumph in those amazing eyes of hers. “But not all.”
“No, not all.” And perhaps not as many as he once thought. “Show me the rest.” He tugged her to her feet.
“The rest?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. This is what you wanted me to realize, isn’t it? That I have to take other things into consideration besides location and ease of construction. And I acknowledge there’s more to this project than I first thought.” More than he wanted to consider. He wasn’t supposed to care so much. He wasn’t certain he could afford to, from either a scheduling or financial perspective. Which begged the question, was it the project he was feeling a strong connection to? Or was it the woman determined to make him see things her way?
“You make me sound manipulative.” She stepped away from him, attempted to tug her hand free of his, but he held on. Clung to her in the same nature-induced way the butterflies far above them clung to their perches.
“We’re all manipulative when it comes to things we care about. Convincing others to see our point of view, showing them that view.” He shifted his gaze to the glossy blue sky and ocean at the edge of the grove. “It’s not necessarily a bad thing. If anything, it shows what you’re passionate about.”
“I’m passionate about a lot of things.”
Xander tugged her forward and looped his arm around her waist. He held onto her gently, wondering if the hand she’d planted between them, against his chest once again, was to push him away...or pull him closer.
“I’d have to be a blind man not to see that.” He dipped his head, kept his eyes locked on hers as he brushed his lips against her mouth. At her gasp of surprise, he expected her to walk away, maybe even run, but no. Calliope Jones wasn’t a woman who ran away from anything. “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”
“It’s likely you never will again.” He caught a flash of wry humor on her face, but her down-to-earth authenticity rang true. “I am the only me there is.”
It was all Xander could do not to laugh in relief. Something told him one Calliope Jones in the world was more than enough. He lowered his gaze to her mouth, to the lip she’d caught between her teeth. How he wanted to kiss her again. Really kiss her to see if she tasted as sweet and tempting as he imagined. As much as he longed to find out, he couldn’t bear knowing. He couldn’t take the chance that kissing Calliope Jones would prove what he already suspected—that she was unforgettable.
“How about the rest of that view?” Fighting against the desire pushing him toward her, he instead took a deep breath and filled his lungs and mind with the scent of endless spring showers of flowers and rain. A scent he would forever connect to this amazing, transfixing, entrancing one-of-a-kind woman.
“It’s pretty overwhelming.” Calliope relaxed her hands and let her arms drop to her sides. She stepped away, as if understanding and agreeing with his assessment. There couldn’t be anything between them. There was too much in their way, not the least of which was geography. He was a city man, from his product-pampered head to his designer-label shoes. And Calliope Jones was the human equivalent of Mother Nature herself. “Are you sure you can take it?”
He grinned at the challenge that had returned to her voice. “If I fall you can catch me, right?”
“Of course.” She reached up and brushed feather-light fingers against his forehead to push the hair from his eyes. “But I have faith in you, Xander Costas. Maybe even more than you have in yourself.”
CALLIOPE WAS LIVING her dreams.
Not in the way normal people did, not in the I’ve-accomplished-my-goals kind of way.
No. In Calliope’s case, standing within the dual embrace of the eucalyptus trees and Xander’s arms, she knew she’d been here before.
She’d seen the face of the boy he’d been. She knew that the instant she’d met him, but did she recall seeing the face of the man she would one day come to love? Was that what her subconscious had been trying to tell her the day he’d arrived, as she’d watched him from the cliff top?
Life before Xander Costas seemed so...clear. So unencumbered despite the difficulties she’d faced—difficulties many people faced on a daily basis. But try as she might, she still couldn’t see past a day and what those days might hold.
Other than she longed to be held. Again. By him and only him.
Which scared Calliope to the very marrow of her bones.
He was steel to her grass. Unbendable to her pliability. Cemented in the world he helped to construct, while she thrived near the earth that had given her everything she ever needed. And yet...
“If today doesn’t give me anything to work with, I don’t know what will.”
Xander’s voice broke through Calliope’s thoughts. She glanced up as they stepped out of the grove. She offered a silent word of thanks to her butterflies for aiding her in her quest for the day.
With a slow blink of her eyes and lowering of her chin, the trees erupted in a flurry of wings as her butterflies abandoned their leaves to return to the trees at her farm. A manipulation of sorts, she reluctantly admitted. But if it helped get her point across...
Trees were more than obstacles to construction. They were testaments to time, with their own lives, their own histories and their own purpose. Special consideration should be taken when it came to removing even the most damaging of trees. Special consideration, planning and care.
That’s all she wanted. For every tree to be given a fair assessment for survival.
“I don’t mean to be difficult.” Calliope found herself apologizing before she could stop herself. She frowned. Where had that come from?
“Sure you do.” Xander didn’t seem offended by the notion. “Just like I do. We each have our own motives and goals. Figuring out a way around them is what makes life interesting, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Why was she surprised to hear that sentiment from his lips? “What are your motives, Xander?” Finally, she could explore Jason’s observations.
“You mean why did I take this job when I’ve spent most of my life dealing with multimillionaires and country-gobbling conglomerates?”
“I guess so.” The very idea that’s what he’d done was so foreign to her; she had no frame of reference. And wasn’t entirely sure she wanted one. “I might be wrong, but it feels as if you’re trying to rebuild something. Your family’s business, perhaps?”
“Forgive me, but I’m not buying that’s something you feel.”
“Jason mentioned your family is going through a difficult time. He also might have suggested I talk to you rather than expect you to agree with everything I’ve put forward.”
“I knew I liked that guy.” He stopped short of where he’d left his bag and cell phone, shoved his hands in his pockets and looked back to the trees. “Life seems simpler in there.”
“It often is,” Calliope agreed. “You don’t have to tell me, Xander. It’s none of my business. But if you do want someone to listen—”
“There’s no reason for you not to know. Honestly, I was surprised we were even given a shot at this design considering what happened.”
“Surprised but relieved. This isn’t just about wanting the job.” Harkening back to something Jason had said, she added, “You need it.”
“You do realize you could make a fortune as a therapist.”
“And now would be the time to observe that you use humor to deflect your feelings.” She wanted to reach out, to take his hand, to comfort him and tell him everything was going to be okay. But she knew once she touched him, she wouldn’t want to stop. This connection, this whatever it was that tethered them, wasn’t weakening. It was strengthening with every moment they spent together.
“It’s a family trait. Well, me and my brother at least.”
“Tell me about your family. And the business, as I’m assuming they are one and the same.”
“You really didn’t Google me?”
“I never Google anyone without their permission.”
That smile of his could light a shore of bonfires.
“My grandfather started Costas Architecture more than sixty years ago. It was his dream, even before he came to this country, to create buildings that would stand as a testament to his vision. When I was a little boy, Grandpa Nico would take the entire family back to Greece every summer, and every summer, he’d take me and my brother, Antony, up the steps to visit the Acropolis. We’d sit there for hours, looking at every stone, every carving, every inch of that creation and he’d say ‘This is what the Costas name should bring to the world. Eternity. Stability. A statement that what is in here—’” Xander tapped the side of his head “‘—and in here—’” he tapped his heart ‘“—can be out there.’”
“Your Grandfather Nico believed in being true to oneself.”
“He did, actually.” Xander’s smile dipped. “Funny, I never really thought of it that way before. But he made me understand we could do anything we set our minds to. He was so proud of his company, of the fact that the Costas legacy would stand the test of time and be a name known for excellence and superiority when it came to design and construction. Of course, my father followed in his footsteps, and then myself and Antony.”
“The brother you endlessly compete with?”
He nodded. “Although I’ll freely admit he has me beat in one area. He’s already married with two kids and a third on the way. Don’t think I’ve lived that down, yet.”
“You do seem a rather good catch,” Calliope teased.
“Never found the right woman.”
The way he looked at her when he said it had Calliope swallowing hard and wishing she’d kept her mouth shut. But she focused her gaze steadily on his, accepting that which she was beginning to realize she had no resistance for. “You were telling me about the business?”
“Right. The business. Dad and Antony are the creative force. The ones who can look at a site, then at a piece of paper and see what belongs there. Me? I’m the guy they send to find the clients, pitch the ideas. Close the deal.”
“You mean you’re the people person?”
“For most people. I’m betting you enjoy being an exception.”
She did indeed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t kid.”
His smile returned and she wondered if he saved it just for her. “I don’t mind. And I will freely admit to being more comfortable schmoozing clients over dinner and drinks than I am playing with a design program trying to come up with ideas.”
“Yet you got your degree in architecture.”
“Because that’s what was expected.” He shrugged, as if an extensive education was nothing more than an obligation. “I minored in business. That gave me the excuse to live and work remotely, dividing my time between Chicago and New York, traveling the world. But what I should have been doing was paying closer attention to what was going on at home. Antony tried to tell me he thought our father was taking on too much, overextending himself. He began to find mistakes in Dad’s work. Little things, nothing big, just enough to get those red flags ready to wave. He asked me to come home and talk to Dad with him. That we needed a united front.”
“Tried to tell you.” Calliope flinched against the waves of regret rolling off Xander. The sense of them was so strong she nearly stumbled back. Instead, she reached out, wrapped her arms around his. Moved in. And absorbed them.
“I didn’t listen. I was distracted, preoccupied with the next client, the next project. I thought I didn’t have time to go home and that Antony was exaggerating.” He shook his head and focused even harder on the grove. “As if it took a lot of work wining and dining clients, and spending money. I told him everything would be fine. That Dad would know when to back off and retire. In the meantime, Dad’s latest build was about to finish construction. A seven-story apartment building aimed at young professionals with families who didn’t want the commute to the suburbs. Quality living in the downtown with access to everything Chicago has to offer. A few weeks before it was done, part of it collapsed. Pancaked. The pressure brought down the rest of the building in hours and killed two construction workers. The investigation revealed a design flaw. One that Dad and everyone else had overlooked.” Xander cringed.
“I’m so sorry.” Calliope rested her head on his shoulder. “Your father must have been devastated. All of you must have been.”
“Have you ever seen anyone look completely defeated, Calliope? There’s this emptiness in their eyes, a hollowness in their face as if they’ve become a ghost of their former selves. My father didn’t try to deny anything. He didn’t fight the lawsuit and told the insurance company to pay out. He insisted we pay for all the funeral expenses, set up college funds for the men’s children. I found out a few months ago he’d paid off both families’ mortgages out of his own pocket. None of it helped him, though. He gave up. Turned in on himself. Turned on himself. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he brought the stroke on himself. Now all Antony and I can do is try to salvage what we can of the business. Rebuild the faith so many companies had put in us. And take on any project, big or small.”
“Which is what brought you to Butterfly Harbor.” She could feel the pain rolling inside of him as acutely as if it was her own. “You’re hoping it’ll get the business back on its feet. And maybe show your father there’s a way back too.”
Xander nodded. “He’s a good man, Calliope. A proud one, but a good one. No matter how busy he was, he found time for us, for each of us, even if it was a few minutes before we went to bed at night. Or he’d wake each of us up early in the morning so we could have breakfast together before he went to work. But I couldn’t do the same for him. I couldn’t find or make the time. Now Antony and I just want to do something for him. As if we can agree on what that is.”
“You want to rebuild what your grandfather began.”
“Antony thinks we should sell, not that the company is worth very much at the moment. But if we could manage one or two projects that would put us on the map again...”
Calliope tried yet again to reconcile the man beside her with the cold, detached drawings of the sanctuary he’d shared in the diner. There was such passion in Xander. Controlled, yes. But simmering beneath that surface of calm. She hadn’t seen it as clearly as she did now, no doubt because her preconceived notions about the man had been clouding her vision. Her intuition. “You didn’t draw them, did you?” She spoke without meaning to. He glanced at her, his brow furrowed.
“What?”
“The sanctuary plans you showed me and Gil. They weren’t yours, were they? Antony drew those. Because you asked him to.”
“How did you—?”
“That’s why you couldn’t convince us they would work. Because they aren’t you.” So much more made sense now. Her heart swelled, twisted for him. No wonder she hadn’t felt any connection to that building’s plan. It hadn’t been his. Except for the one, small sketch of colored glass in the bottom corner. “Xander, why? If you thought this job could be what you were looking for, why didn’t you present your own ideas?”
“Because I don’t have any.” Now who looked defeated? “I told you, I’m the closer. The one who collects the checks and writes the contracts. I’m not creative. I don’t think that way. Don’t believe me? Check out the overflowing trash cans in the cabin I’m staying in. I’m a man who quite literally cannot see the forest through the trees.”
“You’re wrong, Xander.” She let go of his arm and moved in front of him, placed herself in his line of sight and rose up on her toes so he had no choice but to look into her eyes. “If anything, you might be one of the few who honestly can.”