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“But they’ll have to have signed up as alumni to get the message.” Lindsey didn’t seem thrilled.
Shelby shrugged. “Lots of people do. I have, haven’t you?”
Mia shook her head. “Look, they answer, they don’t, so what? It’s Waikiki. We’re bound to meet some gorgeous surfers who’ll be ready to party,” she said, warming to the idea.
“I like it.” Shelby dug in her purse and produced a pen. “Anybody have a piece of paper or a dry napkin?”
Mia pulled her day planner out of her leather tote and tore off a used page. “Here.”
“Oh, my God, they still have those things around. Why don’t you use your BlackBerry?” Shelby found a clean spot on the table and started writing.
“I do both,” Mia said, and glanced at Lindsey, who understood about being careful. She did not look happy.
“Okay, how about something like this…” Shelby squinted as if she were having trouble reading her own writing, which was awful. No one could ever read it but her. “Here we go—‘Remember spring break? Mia, Lindsey and Shelby will be at the Seabreeze Hotel during the week of whatever. Come if you dare. You know who you are.’”
“Not bad, but we’ll have to be more specific.” Mia did a quick mental calculation. ‘Remember Spring Break 2004.’”
“Right.” Shelby scribbled in the correction. “Lindsey, what do you think?”
She shoved a hand through her blond hair and exhaled a shaky breath. It was dim in the bar, but Mia could see she was blushing. “I think you’ll have to change Lindsey to Jill.”
Shelby blinked. “You didn’t give him your real name?”
With a guilty smile, Lindsey shook her head.
Mia and Shelby exchanged glances, and burst out laughing.
DAVID PEARSON PASSED Mia’s empty office on his way to the conference room where he’d been summoned by his father and uncle.
He still couldn’t believe she was gone. The day she’d handed him her letter of resignation had been a shock. Now, two weeks and three days later, he still couldn’t come to grips with Mia no longer being with the firm. That she wouldn’t be stepping off the elevator each morning, early, before anyone but himself had arrived at the office, her green eyes still sleepy, her shoulder-length dark hair still down and damp. By eight, she’d have drunk three cups of coffee—no cream, a little sugar—and pulled her now dry hair back into a tidy French twist. He’d known her routine and habits almost as well as he knew his own.
“Good morning, Mr. Pearson.”
He looked blankly at the receptionist. Only then did he realize he’d stopped and had been staring at the plant Mia had left behind that was sitting near her office door. He silently cleared his throat. “Good morning, Laura.”
Smiling, the pretty young blonde continued toward the break room with a mug in her hand.
“Laura.”
“Yes?” she said, turning back to him.
“Will Mia be picking up this plant?”
She blinked. “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Well, something has to be done with it,” he said more gruffly than he intended. He never got involved in such petty matters. Even more annoying was the unexpected hope that he’d see her again. “Either have it sent to her or if she doesn’t want it, let someone take it.”
“Mia’s going to Hawaii. I’ll keep it watered for now.”
“Hawaii?” His chest tightened. “She’s moving?”
“I bet she wishes.” Laura grinned. “According to Lily, she’ll be gone for a week.”
“When is she leaving?”
The curiosity gleaming in the young woman’s eyes brought him to his senses.
“Never mind.” He shifted the file folders he’d been holding and started again toward the conference room. “Just do something with the plant.”
“In a couple of days,” Laura called after him. “She’s leaving in a couple of days…I think.”
David didn’t respond, but kept walking. What the hell was wrong with him? It was none of his business what Mia did. She’d quit. Thanked him for the opportunity to have been part of the firm, told him she would be pursuing other endeavors, and that was it. He hadn’t tried to talk her into staying. She was a damn good attorney, and he should have. But mostly he’d been too stunned.
The conference-room door was closed, and he knocked briefly before letting himself in. At one end of the long polished mahogany table sat his father, his uncle Harrison and Peter, one of the equity partners. Odd enough that his father would be in the office instead of on the golf course on a Friday, but all three men looked grim.
“Good morning, gentlemen.”
“David.” Peter nodded.
“Have a seat, David” was all his father said.
His uncle poured some water from a carafe on the table and pushed the glass toward David. “You’ll want to add a shot of Scotch to that in a minute.”
“What’s going on?” As he slowly lowered himself into one of the sleek leather chairs, he looked from one bleak face to the next.
“We’ve lost the Decker account,” his father said, his complexion unnaturally pale.
David felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Thurston Decker was their second biggest client. “How?”
“That’s not all,” his uncle added, his features pinched. “It looks as if Cromwell may jump ship, as well.”
Bewildered, David looked to Peter, who was staring at his clenched hands. “I don’t understand.” David shook his head. “They’ve both been with us for two generations without a single complaint. We’ve done an excellent job for them.”
“They don’t dispute that.” His father removed his glasses and carefully began cleaning the lenses. “They’re citing the economy.”
“That’s bull.” Harrison angrily ran a hand through his graying hair. “It’s Thurston’s grandkids who’re responsible. Those greedy little bastards. They’re edging the old man out of the company and making a bunch of jackass changes.”
“No point in getting steamed,” David’s father said wearily. He rarely got angry or displayed much emotion. David was much like him in that way. “We need to focus on bringing them back around.”
“I doubt that’s a possibility,” Peter opined. He was a quiet, studious man, who’d joined Pearson and Stern a year before David, and arguably knew more about what was going on in the firm than either of the two senior partners. “I heard that Fritz Decker, the oldest grandson, has already hired one of his former prep school buddies who bought in to Flanders and Sheen. And for a much smaller retainer.”
“How reliable is that information?” David asked.
Peter’s mouth twisted wryly. “We can forget about Decker’s business.”
“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened to loyalty?” Harrison exhaled sharply and eyed David. “You might not know this, but your grandfather had just started this firm when Thurston Decker got into the booze business. He started out with one store and a bar. When he got tangled up with a moonshiner, your granddad took him on as a client for next to nothing.”
David had heard the story and just nodded. “What about Cromwell? Did we screw up, or is he playing the economy card, too?”
Peter shrugged. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Do we have a chance of wooing him back?”
“Good question.” His father put on his glasses. “We’ve lost a few smaller clients in the past couple of months, legitimately as a result of the economy, and nothing that would ordinarily concern us, but at this juncture, throw Decker and Cromwell into the pot and we’re in trouble.”
David sank back in his chair, his head feeling as if it weighed a ton. He never thought he’d see this day. Pearson and Stern had been a reputable, prestigious firm his entire life. “What happens now?”
“We cut back,” his father said. “No more weekly fresh flower deliveries, and the daily catering for the break room and conference rooms are to stop. You’d be as shocked as I was at how much those two items alone will save us.”
“What about layoffs?” Peter asked.
The question startled David, especially when neither his father nor his uncle balked. He hadn’t dared allow his imagination to go that far. Naturally he understood this was serious, but there had been other lows in Pearson and Stern’s history and they’d always taken pride in keeping every one of their employees. “Layoffs? Surely we’re not at that crossroad. We haven’t tried to drum up more business yet.”
“Not quite true. Your uncle and I have made some calls, but we’ve come up empty.”
David stared at the defeated look on his father’s tired face, and the heaviness in his chest grew. It wasn’t just his reasoned approach to business that made David admire the hell out of his dad. He’d always been a fair employer, a dignified member of the bar association, and David was glad that he’d recently been able to pull back from the office to spend some much deserved time on the golf course. “I can make some calls, too,” he said, withdrawing his BlackBerry from his pocket. “A couple of my old law professors from Harvard should be able—”
“David. Wait.”
He glanced up.
“There is something you can do. That sharp young attorney, Mia.”
“Mia Butterfield,” Peter clarified.
“Right.” Lloyd Pearson leaned forward. “There is a potential new client considering our firm. A very big client, who requires the administration of a rather large charitable foundation. That means a hefty retainer and billable hours for two to three full-time attorneys.”
“What does this have to do with Mia?” David asked, confused. “You do know she no longer works here.”
“Sadly, yes, because the new client has stipulated that Ms. Butterfield be in charge of the account.”
“That makes no sense. Mia never did estate planning.” David exhaled. “We have a stable of extremely talented tax and estate-planning attorneys. Or I could take on this new account myself.”
His father shook his head. “I’m afraid not having Mia Butterfield handle the account is a deal-breaker, and no, there was no further explanation. You worked most closely with her. You’ll have to convince her to come back.”
“I doubt that’s possible.” He vividly remembered the day she’d delivered her letter of resignation. She’d stayed while he read it, then without hesitation on her part or even a trace of regret she was out the door.
“Offer her a bonus, a promotion, certainly a raise. Whatever it takes. We need this business, David, or we bring out the chopping block.”
David loosened his tie and sank back. It was no use denying he wanted to see her again. For an instant he had wondered if her leaving would end up being the best thing that could’ve happened.
Damn it. Yeah, he wanted to see her again all right. But not like this.
2
THE HOTEL HADN’T CHANGED much in six years. Which was a very good thing because why mess with perfection? The lobby was airy and open, the fragrant scent of exotic flowers and salt water carried on the breeze that never failed to cool Mia off no matter how warm and humid the air.
She and Lindsey were headed to the Plantation Bar—by way of the sundry store to pick up a pair of sunglasses Lindsey had forgotten to pack—when they spotted Shelby walking through the lobby, alongside a bellman who carried her two designer bags.
“Look at her. She’s already tanned,” Lindsey said, shaking her head. The short pink sundress bared her shoulders and most of her legs, and a few more highlights had been added to her tawny-colored hair. She looked relaxed and happy, as if she’d already been here a week. So Shelby.
“Tanning salon,” Mia murmured and lifted a hand to get their friend’s attention. Mia had planned on using a tanning bed, too, but there had been no time. Up until her final day at Pearson and Stern she’d worked feverishly to make sure all loose ends were tied up and her one open case had been seamlessly turned over to one of the other junior associates. Then there had been some advance orders to place for the new business. Life had been hectic.
“Shoot, I worked up until the last minute,” Lindsey said. “I didn’t even have time to pick up some bronzing lotion.”
“I’m just glad we got some sleep on the plane.” They’d met up in Chicago and flown together directly to Honolulu. Since Shelby left from Houston, she’d come on her own. Having company, though, hadn’t mattered much to Mia or Lindsey. After chatting for half an hour, they’d both crashed for most of the flight.
“Aloha.” Shelby greeted them with a grin, her teeth particularly white against her tan face.
Mia noticed that she’d gotten a manicure, pedicure—the works—while Mia had been lucky to squeeze in a hair trim. “I hate you,” she said, eying Shelby’s strappy gold sandals and pretty pink toenails. “I really do.”
“Thank you.” Shelby glanced down at her tanned legs and feet. “I found the sandals yesterday. On sale, too.”
“We’ve already checked in,” Lindsey said, exchanging a glance with Mia. They both still wore their travel clothes, jeans and light sweaters, because Chicago had been nippy when they’d left that morning. “We scored adjoining rooms but they won’t be ready for another hour or two.”
“A whole hour? Bummer.” Shelby made a face, and then smiled prettily at the bellman. “Kimo, do you think we’ll really have to wait that long?”
His brown face split into a grin, and then he winked. “The assistant manager is my cousin. Let me see what I can do.” He put down the bags and set off on his mission.
His uniform included white shorts, and the three of them ogled his fine ass and muscled calves as he walked unhurriedly toward the front desk.
“I forgot how disgustingly healthy everyone looks around here, even in winter,” Mia idly observed.
“And how everyone seems to be related,” Lindsey said, and then turned to Shelby. “What a shameless flirt you are. Not that I’m not totally jealous.”
A smug smile curved Shelby’s lips. “Do you know if any of the guys showed up yet?”
Mia shrugged. “We were headed to the bar. If they’re here, they might be hanging out there or at the pool.”
“Oh, God.” Alarm widened Shelby’s hazel eyes. “You can’t go on the prowl dressed like that.”
“The prowl?” Mia laughed.
Lindsey rolled her eyes.
“Too bad we don’t know their last names,” Shelby said, “so we could see if they checked in.” Her gaze drifted past her friends. “Although if they don’t show, I see a couple of damn fine consolation prizes coming this way. No, don’t turn—”
Lindsey whipped her head around, and then abruptly turned back to Mia, her cheeks red when the two buff dudes wearing only swim trunks smiled at them.
“Subtle, sweetie. Real subtle,” Shelby whispered, her gaze averted, her lips barely moving.
“I’m going to get sunglasses,” Lindsey muttered.
Mia elbowed her. “Wait, here comes Kimo.”
The bellman approached, holding up three key cards.
“You’re a doll, baby,” Shelby told him, taking the cards from him and flashing one of her trademark smiles, before passing two cards to Mia and Lindsey. “Um, Linds?” Shelby whispered, leaning close to her friend, “you might want to get some bronzing lotion along with those sunglasses.”
FRESHLY SHOWERED and feeling rested from her nap on the plane, Mia left the other two to unpack and stake their territories while she went in search of an umbrella drink. The pool bar was packed with half-dressed people, lots of couples, but the Plantation Bar, which featured a view of the ocean, was shady, breezy and perfect. She slid onto a stool and studied the tented menu of exotic drinks.
The three of them sharing two adjoining rooms with a small parlor had sounded great in theory. It meant they had only two bathrooms, and while that setup had been fine in college, she was so not used to sharing anymore. But it was only for a week, and she wasn’t planning on spending much time in the room. Especially if spring-break Jeff showed up.
And if he didn’t…oh, well. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t be bummed if their Facebook shout-out went unanswered. Even if Jeff did show up, he might not be as tall as she remembered, or broad and hunky with thick sun-kissed hair. She couldn’t recall if he’d told her what his major had been, or if he’d shared his interests or much of anything else. They’d both been tipsy that night they met at the pool party—him more than her—and there had been a lot more kissing than conversation.
The swarthy, smiling bartender approached to take her order, and she settled on a blue fruity concoction, based solely on the pretty picture, and then swiveled around to gaze toward the beach. Aside from more couples stretched out on beach towels, there were a few groups of guys, but they looked young. One dude wearing a pair of red floral swim trunks and no shirt caught her attention. He was standing at an outside table where the bar met the sand. He had the same build as Jeff, except this guy’s hair was a bit darker and shorter.
“Here you go,” the bartender said, and she twisted around to find the tall, frothy drink garnished with a cherry, pineapple wedge and yellow paper umbrella. “Do you want to sign this to your room or keep a tab open?”
“I’ll sign for it now.” She grinned at the fancy cocktail. She wouldn’t be caught dead ordering something this froufrou in Manhattan.
She plucked the cherry first and popped it into her mouth before using both hands to pick up the odd-shaped glass. The only other people sitting at the bar was a couple huddled at the far end who’d been talking to the bartender. As she struggled with her first sip, determined to leave the pineapple wedge undisturbed, she noticed a man pulling out a stool at the other end of the bar close to the wall. Tall, short dark hair, cream-colored shirt.
Frowning, she set the glass back down. Even though she hadn’t actually gotten a good look at him, there was something oddly familiar about the way he moved, the way he…
Her heart somersaulted.
David.
Ridiculous, of course. It wasn’t him. Couldn’t possibly be. Not in this universe. Damn it. She had promised herself she wouldn’t think of him once on this vacation, and she’d blown it in the first two hours.
For peace of mind she had to take another look. Trying to be inconspicuous, she used her cocktail napkin to wipe up an imaginary spill and slid a sidelong look at him.
It couldn’t be. Except…it was.
Holy crap.
David smiled, and lifted his hand in a wave.
She blinked. Hard. He was still there. She’d never seen him in anything but a suit before. Certainly never seen him smile like that. David Pearson actually looked a little nervous. But that was impossible. In fact, this was nuts. What could he possibly be doing here?
“Mia?”
She blinked again, felt the heat of someone close behind her. A hand touched her shoulder, and she slowly turned.
“Mia, right?” It was red-swim-trunks guy.
She stared blankly at him, her mind still on David.
“It’s Jeff.”
“Jeff. Right. Of course.” She looked into his familiar blue eyes and forced a smile.
He gave her a lopsided grin, ducked and zeroed in for a kiss on the mouth.
She turned her head just in time. The wet sloppy smooch landed on her cheek. His beer-saturated breath nearly knocked her over.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, taking a second to right himself. “I wasn’t sure you’d show up. I couldn’t believe it when I read your post on Facebook. That was wild.”
Mortified that David had seen what had happened, she leaned back, trying to put some distance between her and Jeff, who took the hint and sat on the stool beside her, fortunately not too close and blocking her view of David.
“When did you get here?” she asked, scrambling to concentrate.
“Yesterday morning. Me and two of my buddies. We got too much sun yesterday and spent more time than we should have at the bar today.” He smiled sheepishly. “You just get in?”
“A couple of hours ago. My friends are still unpacking.”
The bartender came for Jeff’s order, and she was relieved when he asked for a soft drink. Though she was disappointed that mentioning her friends hadn’t prompted him to volunteer whether his two buddies were the ones Lindsey and Shelby were expecting. She glanced at his friends and pretty much figured it out on her own. They didn’t look the least bit familiar, and boy, were they not the right type.
Her gaze went back to Jeff and she found his bloodshot eyes fixed intently on her. “You look the same,” he said, sounding relieved. “Your hair is shorter.”
“Yours, too.”
“Yeah.” He self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck. “Good ol’ corporate America.”
“Jeff.”
His friends hollered from across the bar, and when he turned to acknowledge them, she shot a look toward David. His seat was vacant, his glass half-empty. Her gaze shifted in time to catch a glimpse of his back as he left the bar.
“Look, we’ve rented surfboards,” Jeff said, signaling for his check. “You wanna come?”
“Maybe another day.”
“How about dinner?” Jeff lightly touched her hand and gave her the boyishly charming smile that had gotten to her six years ago. “You have plans yet?”
Her wistful gaze drifted helplessly toward the stool where David had been sitting only seconds ago. What was he doing here? It made no sense. Whatever the reason, it couldn’t have anything to do with her. He probably hadn’t given her a moment’s thought since she’d left. As soon as it was announced that she’d given her notice, nearly everyone had tried to talk her into staying with the firm. But not David. He hadn’t said a single damn word. This was simply a coincidence. A bizarre crazy coincidence. “No,” she said finally. “No, I don’t have plans.”
“I’ll make reservations someplace nice, and call your room when I get back. Okay?”
“Sure. I’m looking forward to it.” She didn’t even mind when he kissed her cheek.
DAVID HOPED HE WASN’T hanging around the lobby like an idiot for nothing. He checked his watch, then for the second time in five minutes, looked at his BlackBerry for messages, while mentally cursing his own stupidity. For God’s sake, he knew why she was here. He’d overheard the ladies talking in the break room about Mia and her friends’ plan to organize a reunion or some such thing relating to their senior year spring break.
Frankly it had sounded odd to him, not at all like something Mia would be involved in. He thought back to his own spring break, the last one before going to law school, and smiled. He and three friends had gone to Barbados for the week, where there had been a lot of women, too much drinking and not a shred of common sense among them. Twice they’d had to buy their way out of sticky situations with the local authorities.
Though nothing to be proud of, he wouldn’t have traded that wonderful, reckless carefree week for anything. Everyone needed that rite of passage. A few months later, he’d been firmly embedded in law school, studying his ass off, and doing the Pearson name proud. He hadn’t veered off course since, and he certainly wouldn’t pull an adolescent stunt like trying to recreate the week.
Hard to believe Mia was part of this at all. She was a damn fine lawyer, a sensible, focused woman. He admired that about her, and so much more. She was poised and sexy and had the most incredible green eyes that had the damning effect of turning his insides to butter. Which made him twice the fool for having followed her here.
No one at the firm knew he was here, except his father and uncle, and neither had said a word about him taking off in search of Mia. In fact, they had breathed a sigh of relief that he was on the case. Only David had known that he wasn’t in Hawaii to gain a client, no matter how desperately the company needed the influx of cash. He had come to see Mia for himself.
In the short time since she’d given her notice, too many of his thoughts had been regrets. He’d hidden his feelings for her for so long, he’d almost convinced himself that she didn’t fill him with want. He’d cursed the fact that she worked for his firm, which made her off-limits. Now, when his opportunity was finally here, when there would be no negative repercussions if he asked her out, he couldn’t. Not if he wanted to save a lot of jobs.