Ophelia studied the stubborn man and tried to keep her expression neutral.

“Perhaps we’re both a little desperate, hmm? Why not see if it can work to both our advantages?” she asked.

She had always known Dane Montgomery would be the toughest recruitment of her career. But she had the feeling that if she could just spend enough time with him, get to know him, find some sort of compromise to their situations…

“Fine.”

“Fine? I mean…you’ll do it?” She knew that her face revealed her surprise.

“For $10,000, I’ll be your personal tour guide…for this week only.” He rose to his feet. “But let me warn you, Ms. Reid, that others with more experience than you have tried many times over the past three years to lure me back.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

He paused, seeming to consider her. “What makes you think you’ll have a better chance than they did?”

She met his gaze with determination. “I don’t know that I do,” she confessed, “but I have to try.”

He straightened at this, and did she imagine it? Or was there just the slightest hint of respect in his eyes to avoid repetition?

“Then let the games begin.”

Dear Reader,

I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Hawaii a total of three times in my life. The first, I was barely three years old and recall little other than crystal clear waters, deliciously cool breezes and soft, pristine sand. The second trip was a family vacation in my early teens that created a wealth of treasured (and humorous!) memories. And the last was only a couple of years ago, not too long after I had the idea for Gentle Persuasion.

The impression of Hawaii that has always stayed with me is the unique culture and welcoming aloha spirit of its people, the complicated beauty of its native language, and the purity and diversity of its landscape.

Hawaii is a place where it’s easy to fall in love. So it was no stretch of the imagination to consider characters who might be tempted to leave behind their mainland lives for the paradise of the islands.

Dane’s dreams of running a coffee plantation on the islands afforded me the opportunity to learn more about the families who live and work the hundreds of farms along the coast of Hawaii’s Kona region. Their daily struggles and triumphs helped give voice to the challenges of making such dreams a reality.

If you haven’t already, perhaps one day you can experience the beauty of the islands for yourself, but for now, I hope Gentle Persuasion gives you a small taste of paradise.

If you’d like to share your own Hawaii experiences, contact me through my website at www.cerellasechrist.com.

Gentle Persuasion

Cerella Sechrist

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CERELLA SECHRIST

lives in York, Pennsylvania, with two precocious pugs, Darcy and Charlotte, named after Jane Austen literary characters. She has won various competitions and a scholarship for her writing, which includes devotionals, full-length plays and novels. Her debut novel, Love Finds You in Hershey, Pennsylvania, recently was rereleased by Love Inspired. Cerella divides her time between working in the office of her family’s construction business and as a barista to support her reading habit and coffee addiction. Her novels exhibit her love for both the written word and food in fiction. You can find her online at her website, www.cerellasechrist.com, where she pens “Literary Fare: Fiction & Food,” a blog for readers.

MILLS & BOON

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Dedicated to my mom, Cherie Sechrist, who gave me my first glimpse of Hawaii at three, my first taste of coffee at five and a love of stories from the moment I could understand words.

Special thanks to my editor, Laura Barth, and senior editor Victoria Curran, for their input, advice and support. You have been invaluable. I raise my mug of Kona coffee to you both!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

IT WAS BALMY.

She hadn’t expected it to be so...balmy.

Ophelia Reid squared her shoulders as she stood at the doorway of the Okina Inn, the bed-and-breakfast where she’d booked lodging until she completed her mission in Hawaii.

She’d endured merciless teasing from her coworkers in the time before her flight: how privileged she was, as the CEO’s daughter, to snag this assignment. Yet, even in such lighthearted banter, there had been the glint of sympathy in their eyes. This was no simple placement such as those Reid Recruiting Agency normally performed. This was the assignment that would make or break her career and fulfill the dreams she had nurtured since childhood.

Clearing her throat, Ophelia raised her hand and rapped upon the door with solid determination. Only as her fist withdrew did she notice her hand was trembling slightly.

Frowning, she rested her arms at her sides and willed her fingers to still their shaking. She tapped out the seconds in her designer sling backs, resisting the desire to smooth her black slacks.

Minutes passed, and she again marveled at the temperate climate. Not too hot, not too cold—just as her assistant, Holly, had told her it would be. The trade winds offered a consistently sweet breeze, and the air held only the faintest hint of ocean moisture. Paradise.

For a moment, her shoulders sagged, and she let her head fall back, feeling the delicious pull of her tense muscles as they stretched along her spine.

The door opened, and she snapped her head forward, wincing at the abrupt movement.

A squat, round-faced woman with Polynesian features narrowed her eyes to slits at the sight of Ophelia standing on the doorstep.

“I’m Ophelia Reid.” She paused, hoping this introduction would be sufficient.

Apparently not. The woman stared.

“I’m a guest of the inn. I’ve booked the Lilly...koloni suite.” She stumbled over the Hawaiian name, and the stubby woman scowled.

“Liliuokalani,” she offered in a slightly accented voice, her tone disparaging.

Ophelia’s smile felt strained after her long flight. “That would be the one.”

The woman huffed and folded her short arms across her more-than-ample bosom. “Where’s your husband?” she demanded.

Ophelia’s mouth dropped at this question. “I don’t have a husband.” She winced at this statement, thinking of her longtime boyfriend, Cole. The two of them had broken things off shortly before she’d boarded the plane to Hawaii. The possibility of her moving to Paris had ignited an argument between them that could reach no satisfactory conclusion, and she had ended things after four long years of dating.

Her statement only served to heighten the woman’s suspicions. “What sort of haole woman books the Liliuokalani suite only for herself?”

“Haole?” Ophelia repeated, suspecting she had just been insulted.

“Foreigner. White,” came the clipped reply.

Ophelia flared her nostrils. “I will have you know that just because I am a single woman does not mean I cannot enjoy a luxury suite! This is the twenty-first century, and women are entitled to...to—” she flagged as she mentally cataloged her list of feminine rights “—to stay in luxury suites by themselves!” she lamely finished. “If they want to,” she added.

The other woman looked Ophelia up and down. “Maybe you’re single because you’re too skinny. A man wants a woman who can feed him. That’s the problem with you mainland girls. You starve yourselves and think that’s what a real man wants.” She reached out and pinched Ophelia’s bare arm to demonstrate her point.

Ophelia gasped in indignation, jerking her arm beyond her criticizer’s reach. “I can cook!” She automatically defended herself and then considered the relative dishonesty of this statement. “When I have to,” she tacked on to the end.

This elicited another harrumph from the Polynesian lady. “Microwave dinners don’t count. Neither do reservations at fancy restaurants.”

Frustration and fatigue churned madly in Ophelia’s stomach. “Are you going to show me to my room or not?” she demanded.

The irritating woman unfolded her arms to rest them on her wide hips. “The rooms are not ready. You’re too early to check in.”

“What do you mean the rooms aren’t ready? My assistant made the reservation on Friday. She was assured I could check in as soon as I arrived”

“I said—” the little woman amplified her voice by several notches, as if this might impart understanding “—the rooms are not ready!”

Ophelia felt pinpricks of tension shooting along her nerves. She had never been treated so abominably when trying to check in to a room. Except that one time in Paris when Holly had booked her at the wrong hotel. But even the most snooty of French concierges didn’t compare to the feisty lady before her. “Well...what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

The woman shrugged, as if this was a matter beyond her concern. Despite her upbringing, where appearances were everything, Ophelia suddenly wanted nothing more than to sink to the porch of the inn and cry with aggravation. It had been a long flight to the islands with a combined travel time of over twelve hours on two planes, and she had not expected to encounter such a greeting upon her arrival in this tropical paradise.

“Pele? Is there a problem here?”

The woman turned toward the voice at her back. Ophelia’s weariness suddenly evaporated at the appearance of the man behind her tormenter. Six feet, two inches tall with a scruffy jawline, russet-colored hair and the most startling blue eyes she had ever seen, Ophelia immediately recognized the singular presence of Dane Montgomery. Her stomach jerked with what she could only assume was relief at the presence of the very man she had been sent to find.

“Mr. Montgomery.” She smoothly extended a hand. “I’m Ophelia Reid.”

This poised introduction caused Dane to hesitate for a fraction of a second before slipping his hand into hers. His grip was firm, cool and brief, his expression guarded.

“I’m sorry. Did we...have an appointment?”

Pele answered for her. “This haole woman booked the Liliuokalani suite...for herself.”

The sight of Pele’s eyebrows, arched with meaning, stung.

Ophelia fought the blush threatening to stain her complexion. “There seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding,” she explained.

Dane looked from Ophelia to Pele and back to Ophelia again. “My apologies. You’re one of our guests?”

Ophelia nodded, trying to keep the pleasant this-isn’t-bothering-me-at-all smile stuck to her lips. “The Liliuokalani suite,” she confirmed, taking pains to pronounce the name correctly.

“I apologize,” Dane repeated and attempted to nudge Pele’s considerable girth from the doorway’s entrance. “Won’t you come in?”

“She has no husband!” Pele reminded him. “And the rooms are not ready!”

Dane carefully cleared his throat and steered Pele aside. “Well, then, why don’t you see about making the rooms ready, Pele?” he suggested, and Ophelia noted he spoke the words through clenched teeth.

The stout woman glowered. “She wants the suite all to herself,” Pele persisted.

“Which is absolutely not a problem.” Dane directed these words to Ophelia with a contrite look. He continued to prod Pele toward the stairs, no easy feat considering she appeared to be digging her heels into the rug as Dane pushed her along.

“This is what comes of girls starving themselves,” Pele muttered direly as her foot landed on the first step. “They lose all their senses!”

Her mumbling continued the entire length of the stairway until she disappeared onto the landing above. Dane turned with an expression of relief.

“I’m sorry we weren’t able to greet you properly. My receptionist has the day off, and Pele is our housekeeping staff. The Liliuokalani suite is usually reserved by honeymooners. Pele must have misunderstood. She can be quite...set in her ideas of propriety.”

Ophelia waved a hand to brush off the mix-up. “It’s not a problem.” Now that she had finally been allowed entry into the inn’s foyer, she took some time to survey her surroundings. The furnishings were exquisite: beachscape paintings in rich hues of cerulean blues, aquatic greens and ivory sand, a teak reception desk with track lighting, tropical plants dotting the end tables and a woven area rug covering the hardwood floor. Paradise kept looking better and better.

While Ophelia had been studying the main reception area, Dane had slipped behind the desk to consult the records.

“Here we are, Ophelia Reid. Liliuokalani suite. Paid for one week in advance.” He glanced up at her. He seemed to consider querying her further on this before remembering his manners as the inn’s owner and host.

“As you’re well aware, the suite is not quite ready for you yet. Perhaps you’d like to take some refreshment on the lanai?”

Ophelia nodded with relief. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”

He led her toward a set of glass-and-wood doors opening up onto a patio overlooking the gardens. She breathed deeply, once again enjoying the perfect weather.

“Would you like me to bring in your bags?” he questioned.

She shook her head. “They’ll be fine in my rental car for now.”

While Dane stepped behind the bar, Ophelia used the opportunity to regain some of her scattered composure. She tried to recall the speeches she had formulated on the flight from New York to LAX and then on to Kona International airport. She was good at this—a crack negotiator and a talented recruiter in her trade. But this was different. Everything—her career, the family business, her relationship with her mother/boss—hinged on this one man, this one job.

She was so deeply absorbed in thought that she jerked physically to awareness when Dane approached and set a tray of chilled juice and glasses on the table before her.

If he noticed her start, he didn’t draw attention to it. Instead, he poured them each a beverage and handed one toward her before taking a seat.

“If you don’t mind my asking, Ms. Reid—”

“Ophelia.”

“Ophelia,” he corrected, “how is it that you know who I am?”

She smiled easily at him. “It’s only been, what, three years since you retired to these islands, Mr. Montgomery? Surely, you didn’t think your celebrity status in the corporate world would be forgotten so readily.”

She noticed her mention of his former life caused Dane to reflexively tense.

“Your face has graced the covers of nearly every notable trade magazine in business.” And Dane Montgomery’s face was not a forgettable one, though she didn’t flatter him by saying so.

His jaw, dusted with a fine smattering of stubble, hardened. “I don’t grant interviews anymore.”

“Oh, I’m not a journalist,” Ophelia assured him.

He studied her intently, his mind obviously scanning its memory banks.

“Ophelia Reid...” he murmured thoughtfully.

She took a sip of her juice, its cool sweetness sliding easily down her throat. “This is delicious, thank you. What sort of juice is it?”

“Guava,” he answered with some distraction before looking at her carefully. “We’ve never met,” he noted with certainty.

“No,” she agreed. “We never have.”

He leaned back, his own beverage standing forgotten. “But I would presume to say you’re not here for a vacation, reporter or no.”

Ophelia took the seat across from him, settling into the cushioned wicker chair. “Not exactly,” she admitted. She couldn’t help admiring the lean, muscled lines of his arms as he crossed them over his chest. No wonder the media had so often portrayed him as something of a demigod in the business world. His famed good looks were even more evident in person than they had been in the articles she’d been reading about him. It filled her with intimidation, and she reminded herself that his looks had nothing to do with her mission.

He narrowed his eyes and watched her. She held his gaze and stared right back.

“I’m here to make you an offer,” she finally said.

Dane dropped his arms and stood, his response short and sharp. “Not interested.”

She sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“You haven’t even heard the terms.”

He shook his head and placed several steps of distance between them, as though she were contaminated.

“Not. Interested.”

She leaned back, looking out over the garden. “Fine. This job’s not on commission for me, so...” She shrugged.

This statement apparently piqued his curiosity, as she’d known it would. Recruiters usually made their living solely on the commissions they reaped from placing high-salary executives in top-end jobs. Working an assignment gratis had to have a compelling reason behind it.

Sufficiently mistrustful, however, Dane did not nibble on this declaration, at least not immediately.

“Ophelia Reid.” He repeated her name once more. “You’re a headhunter.”

Now it was her turn to tense. “I’ve never been fond of that term. I prefer the more noble title of ‘executive recruiter’ in my profession.”

He scoffed. “You can paint it any color you like—it’s all the same to me.”

She took another sip of juice to prevent herself from rising to the bait. Dane Montgomery’s dislike of recruiters was well known, and she chose not to take his disdain personally.

When she remained silent, Dane began to pace, scratching his jawline thoughtfully before finally snapping his fingers.

“Reid Recruiting Agency.” He slid her a sideways glance. “You’re Lillian Reid’s daughter, aren’t you?”

She suppressed a wince, as she always did, when she was labeled in this manner. Her mother’s reputation forever preceded her, singling her out as the only child of the ferociously famous corporate negotiator.

“The one and only,” she coolly owned, lifting her glass in salute.

He frowned, seeming to notice the subtle frost in her tone. “Lillian Reid as your mother. That must have earned you your fair share of therapy.”

She tried not to glower at him for this observation. Her attempts caused him to grin, and she felt a strange stirring in her stomach at the sight. “So you work for your mother, then?” he confirmed, getting back to the subject at hand.

She nodded.

“How long?”

“Straight out of college. You can’t expect me to confess how many years ago that’s been.”

Dane closed one eye and pretended to size her up. “Less than ten, I’d say.”

She laughed, her tension easing slightly. “They told me you could be charming.”

“Could be?”

“When you want to be.”

“Ah.” He paused. “So?” he prompted.

“So, what?”

“Am I right? Ten years or less?”

She rolled her eyes. “Twelve, if you must know. I’m thirty-three.”

He clicked his tongue. “So young.”

“As compared to your thirty-six years?”

“You have done your homework.”

She swirled the ice in her glass. “I should warn you not to underestimate me.”

He scoffed. “As Lillian Reid’s daughter, you’re probably right.” He frowned. “If you’re not taking a commission, there must be some other incentive. You didn’t come here just for the weather, after all.” His lips twisted into a smirk of disdain.

“No,” she admitted. “I didn’t.”

He returned to his seat and picked up his glass. “Not to sound arrogant, but...the salaries I’ve been offered would have provided a, let’s just say, substantial commission for you, should I accept the proposal. Any particular reason why you’re foregoing your percentage?”

She placed her glass back on the table and leaned forward. “Some things in life are worth more than money.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. “Well said.” He waited a few seconds more before querying, “You’re not going to tell me your reasons, are you?”

She leaned back in her seat but remained silent. Instead of responding, she swiveled the topic in another direction. Gesturing to the gardens before them, she observed, “It’s easy to see why you gave up what you did. The islands are beautiful.”

Relaxing farther into his seat, he followed her gaze. “This is your first trip to Hawaii?”

She nodded. “Travel comes with the job, of course, but I’ve never had the pleasure before this. You gave me a good excuse.” Her eyes returned to his, and when they met, she found herself inexplicably unsettled. Diverting her attention away once more, she tried to keep herself on solid conversational ground. Her research had prepared her for Dane Montgomery’s handsome features, square jawline and toned physique, but the reality of those liquid blue eyes and deep voice was something else entirely.

“How many employees do you keep on staff here at the inn?” she asked, anchoring herself to neutral territory.

“Three, in addition to myself. There’s a set of rooms on the other side of the inn for them. They live here with me.”

“And they’re all locals?”

He cocked his head. “Why do you want to know?”

She sighed. She had known he’d be difficult, but she hadn’t expected such open mistrust. She shrugged. “It’s an interesting endeavor—giving up the corporate life like you did, buying a coffee plantation and inn, and setting out on a new venture. I’m curious.”

“If you’ve done your homework, I’m sure you’ve read all about it already.”

“Still...reading about a legend isn’t quite the same as meeting one.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you? If you’d bothered to compose a personality profile on me, you’d realize that flattery won’t get you very far.”

He had a point. She had made that very note in the margins of her paperwork during the flight over, and already, she had made the mistake of trying to play to his vanity. She had a flash of doubt as to her ability to accomplish this task. After all, she wasn’t the first recruiter to attempt luring Dane Montgomery out of retirement.

“I apologize,” she offered, “but before you turn me down flat, you should at least read the proposal.”

He sighed and looked away, off toward the mountains in the distance. She sensed a weariness emanating from him, and rather than take advantage of this vulnerability, she attempted to alleviate it.

“I have the entire week at my disposal,” she reminded him. “And I’m certain you feel a little ambushed by my arrival. Why don’t you take the afternoon to let the idea sink in, and I can present you with the proposal later?”

He turned his eyes on her, the warm blue going a shade darker with what she could only hope wasn’t loathing. “How considerate of you,” he noted.

She bit her lip.

Clearing his throat, he rose to his feet. “I’ll check on Pele, see how she’s coming along on your suite.”

A deep exhaustion had settled into her bones. She wanted nothing more than a hot shower and a nap before facing the initial round of negotiations. “Thank you,” she responded.

Dane turned to go, but then he lingered on the threshold of the lanai, frowning at her. She smiled cheerfully, though it felt tight and awkward on her lips. He did not return the gesture. As he stole away, Ophelia relaxed her face and rested a hand over her stomach, attempting to convince herself it was only the stress of the situation that had caused the restlessness inside her.

* * *

WHILE OPHELIA REID waited for her rooms to be readied, Dane found himself struggling to explain his dilemma to Keahi.

“She is not the first haole to try and lure you away from the islands,” Keahi, his plantation manager, pointed out as he flipped through a sheaf of paperwork in their shared office.

“No,” he conceded, “but she may be the prettiest.”

Keahi looked up from his task with sudden interest, and Dane wished he could withdraw his offhand remark. He’d meant to make a joke of it, as much to convince himself that Ophelia Reid’s unexpected beauty was of no consequence as to prepare Keahi for it.

“Pretty, eh, boss?” A wide grin split the older man’s face. “You don’t pay no attention to the pretty ones.”

Dane grimaced. “I pay attention, Keahi. I just don’t pursue them.” After all, there had been no end to the beautiful women in his life—both those on the mainland, before his retirement, as well as the ones who came and went on the islands. But Dane had learned that most of them were still too interested in the successes of his past to appreciate the commitment to his new life in Kona.

Keahi rolled his eyes and reached for another stack of papers. “Leilani says you spend too much time alone.”

“Leilani is young and full of romantic notions about love,” Dane reminded and swiveled to face his own desk. “She thinks if I fall in love it will solve all my problems.”

“Ah, she just cares about you,” Keahi said. “She appreciates all you’ve done for her and Pele. She wants you to be happy.” Dane heard the squeak of his friend’s chair as he turned in it. “She knows you deserve it.”

Dane pretended to study a list of items he needed to order for the inn to avoid having to respond.

“Boss?”

Dane suppressed a sigh and raised his head, turning in his chair to face his friend.

“You know the numbers aren’t good, brah.”

“We’ll figure it out.” He turned back around and bent his head over the paper before him. The list of expenses wasn’t long, but it felt exorbitant in the face of the other bills piling up.

“The numbers don’t lie,” Keahi pressed. “Maybe you should cut your losses. Take the pretty lady’s offer. Go back home.”

“This is my home,” Dane snapped. “I’m not going to abandon it. Besides, what would happen to you? And Pele? And Leilani? Leilani’s practically a kid. If I left, she’d fall right back into the same sort of trouble we fished her out of last year.”

Keahi clicked his tongue in disagreement. “Give the girl some credit, boss. She’s cleaned herself up real good in the last few months, especially now that she’s seeing Sam. She’d land on her feet.”

“No.” Dane shook his head. “I’m not taking the easy way out. We’ve got a good product, Keahi, and you know it. We just need some capital to get it out there.”

“And what about this Miss Reid? You gonna kick her out?”

Dane leaned back in his chair and grimaced. “I don’t think I can. She paid for her week in advance, and we can’t afford to refund her deposit.”

He chewed the inside of his cheek to prevent himself from voicing the rest of his thought aloud. Ophelia Reid was a pleasant addition to the inn with her honey-blond hair and startling green eyes. All the more reason, however, to keep his guard up around her. The inn and plantation’s rising debt left him vulnerable to whatever tactics Ms. Reid possessed.

“Do you know who her mother is?” Dane looked over his shoulder and made a dramatic pretense of shuddering. “Lillian Reid, founder and executive CEO for Reid Recruiting. That woman is merciless in her pursuits, and I’m sure she raised her daughter in the same manner.”

Dane felt a twinge of guilt after uttering these words. Ophelia may have been a headhunter, but he hadn’t sensed she was as ruthless as her mother. Then again, perhaps her lean form and pretty face had swayed him more than he wanted to admit.

“You know her mother?” Keahi questioned.

“Mostly by reputation. I met her a time or two at various fund-raisers, though.” He shrugged. “She had sharp teeth, as I recall. Like a vampire. And they say she runs her firm with the same sort of bloodthirsty fierceness.”

Keahi clicked his tongue. “Maybe you gotta feel sorry for this girl, then. With a mother like that?” He shook his head. “Maybe she’s just doing what she has to, coming here and making you this offer.”

Dane clenched his jaw before unhinging it to speak. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not accepting any contract. Ophelia Reid is wasting her time.”

Keahi sighed. “Then you best run those numbers again, boss. Because unless you can start pulling in a whole lot of customers like this Miss Reid, you might have to.”

CHAPTER TWO

AN HOUR AFTER her arrival at the inn, Ophelia lay in the center of an enormous bed, eyes fixed on the circling ceiling fan. Dane had brought her bags up from the car, and now they rested on the floor as she counted the rotations of the fan blades above her, willing her weariness to ease her into slumber.

She had drawn the suite’s shades, dimmed the lights and turned on her traveling white-noise machine, but the chatter in her brain wouldn’t allow for rest. Rolling onto her side, she closed her eyes and focused on her breathing, instead. In. Out. In. Out. In...

It was no good. She was too distracted by the task at hand.

You can do this, Ophelia. You can do it.

She had made this her mantra for the past forty-eight hours—ever since her mother had drawn Ophelia into her private office and commissioned her with this task. Even now, recalling the conversation, Ophelia felt her stomach churning anxiously.

She had just finished wrapping up negotiations for a CFO in an investment group when her assistant, Holly, had stuck her head through the door.

She’d looked up with a grin. “Dinner at Le Petite Renard to celebrate? It’s on me.”

The fact that her assistant didn’t jump at this invitation was Ophelia’s first clue something was up.

“Your mother’s back from her meeting with Bianca Towers.”

Ophelia’s relaxed posture tightened up at Holly’s warning tone. She waited.

“She wants to see you in her private office.” Holly paused and then added, “Now.”

Ophelia swallowed and instantly rose to her feet.

She, of all the people in this city, knew better than to keep Lillian Reid waiting. Quickly, she headed out into the main office area of her floor. She brushed by Holly on her way, catching her commiserating glance before moving toward the elevators.

The digital reading blipped all too slowly as she counted the floors until the elevator car reached her. She nodded politely at her coworkers, stepped inside and asked for the senior-executive floor.

Her mother’s floor.

Was it her imagination, or were they nudging and sharing glances behind her? It felt as if several sets of eyes were drilling pointed stares into her shoulder blades. She squared her posture and kept her expression impassive.

The wait for the elevator had been far longer than the ride. As the doors pinged open, Ophelia barely resisted the urge to chew her lip with nervousness. She tried to keep her face professionally neutral as she stepped toward the reception desk and was waved through to the inner sanctum of Reid Recruiting Agency.

She caved to insecurity as she passed the black marble awards wall and paused to try and assess herself in the shiny reflection of a plaque.

Everything was perfect, every blond hair in place. She straightened her spine, just as her comportment lessons had instilled in her, and smoothed the designer suit that hugged her thin, five-foot-nine-inch frame. She tried to smile.

Nothing happened.

Her eyes were blinking rapidly, a sign of her distress. This would not do. Lillian expected a placid pool, no matter what sort of emotions raged underneath. Emotional displays were for lesser people. The face you presented to the world must be...flawless.

Ophelia slid her eyes closed, willing a neatness of composure. When she opened them again, the hunted look was still evident.

She prayed her mother would not notice.

Knowing she had wasted precious seconds on this perusal, she hurried toward the glass doors and greeted Tamara, her mother’s assistant.

“You can go on in, Ophelia,” Tamara offered. The other woman’s tone sounded almost pitying.

Ophelia swallowed as she approached her mother’s door and knocked briefly before sticking her head inside.

“Ms. Reid? You wanted to see me?”

Lillian Reid had strict rules about how her daughter addressed her. While “Mother” was appropriate at family events and in the privacy of the home, when in the office or among business associates, only Ms. Reid would do.

“Ophelia. Come in.” Lillian made a pointed show of studying her wristwatch, though she made no remark on the length of time it had taken Ophelia to reach the top floor.

Ophelia remained composed as she crossed the room and waited behind the Parisian leather chairs reserved for those summoned to sit across the desk from Lillian. She knew better than to sit immediately. Lillian enjoyed issuing commands, even ones so small as when you might seat yourself.

Lillian lifted her gaze from her watch, looked at her daughter and after a pause, gestured toward one of the chairs.

“You may take a seat.”

Ophelia gracefully brushed a hand beneath her skirt as she did. She folded one leg over the other, her spine straight and several inches away from the seat’s back. Just as she had been taught.

She did not speak, knowing Lillian preferred to take the lead in such meetings. Her mother took longer than usual, however, to voice her wishes, and so Ophelia did her best not to fidget, not even to shift her weight from one side of the chair to the other.

Lillian Reid stared down at her desk for an inordinate length of time, her eyes sharply assessing the spotless surface. The silence lingered for so long that Ophelia felt an unusual concern rise within her.

Swallowing, she broke the rules with a soft murmur. “Mother?”

It was the wrong move. Lillian’s hawklike gaze shot upward and caught her in its sights.

“Ms. Reid,” she firmly declared.

Ophelia dropped her head in shame. “I apologize, Ms. Reid.”

Her poise proved flawless in nearly every situation she found herself thrust into, but one moment beneath her mother’s—Ms. Reid’s—sharp stare, and she felt reduced to a humiliated child.

Though she ignored the apology, the exchange at least shook Lillian from her silent reverie. She smoothed her short, faded blond hair, a display of tension from her that Ophelia rarely witnessed, and then folded her neatly manicured hands before her.

“We have a situation,” she announced, her voice matter-of-fact.

Not trusting herself to speak further, Ophelia waited for her mother to continue.

“I have just come from a meeting with Bianca Towers.”

Ophelia prepared herself for potentially bad news. Bianca Towers was the heiress of an internationally renowned resort chain. With the recent passing of her uncle, the young socialite now possessed sole command of the Towers business and fortune.

Her reputation as a flighty party girl had caused a drop in revenue for the Towers name once she came into the seat of power, and Bianca seemed anything but happy about it.

Towers Resorts International had been employing Reid Recruiting Agency for years as their main source to fill top positions within their company. As one of Reid Recruiting’s most lucrative accounts, it remained imperative they keep Bianca Towers on good terms.

This was no easy task considering the temperamental, impulsive nature of the twenty-five-year-old socialite. And if anything put Lillian Reid in a bad mood, it was schmoozing the rich.

“She wants to turn the company’s image around and restore its reputation as one of the chief international resort chains.”

Ophelia remained silent, letting her mother continue at her own leisure.

“She wishes to launch a major PR campaign to draw in a diverse clientele—something that holds universal appeal.”

Ophelia tentatively cleared her throat. “She seems...ambitious.” Ophelia wouldn’t have thought that from what she’d read of the girl.

Lillian Reid did not comment on the observation. Instead, she continued, “Miss Towers believes there is only one way to make this happen.”

Ophelia braced herself. Lillian rested her eyes on her daughter’s. “She wants Dane Montgomery to head the creative marketing division and lead the campaign.”

Ophelia swallowed. “He’s retired.”

Lillian rolled her eyes, and Ophelia berated herself for having pointed out the obvious.

“He’s the best.” From Lillian’s tone, it was clear she was mocking the very words Bianca must have spoken in Dane’s regard.

“Where is he?” Ophelia asked.

“Hawaii, if what the trades said three years ago still holds true. He gave everything up to—” she waved her hand dismissively “—grow fruit on an island or some such dull venture.”

Ophelia processed this. “So, Bianca wants us to recruit Dane Montgomery for her?”

Lillian nodded. Ophelia hesitated, loath to ask the next question.

“And...if we can’t?”

Her mother’s piercing stare sliced into her once more. “She pulls the entire Towers Resorts International account.”

Ophelia’s eyes widened. “What? Everything?”

The same clipped nod.

“But that would mean—”

“Cutbacks. Layoffs.” Lillian shuddered as she uttered the dire word, “Downsizing. These actions will be interpreted as weakness, and more clients will follow in Bianca’s wake.”

“We can’t let that happen.”

For the first time in ages, Lillian bestowed a rare smile of approval upon her daughter.

“No. We cannot.” She swiveled in her desk chair, tidying a stack of paperwork. “That’s why I’m sending you to Hawaii to recruit Dane Montgomery.”

This pronouncement elicited a round of blinking from Ophelia. She fought to maintain her poise in the face of this startling statement. “You’re...sending...me?”

True, she was one of Reid Recruiting’s best. Yet, such a crucial assignment surely called for the cream of the crop.

Lillian tented her fingers and fixed the full weight of her considerably intimidating stare on her daughter.

“You started as an assistant at this company, following your graduation from college. You have worked your way up the ladder without any help from me. I have shown no favoritism toward you thus far, and yet you have still made it clear your wishes are to expand our offices into Paris, with you at their helm as Director of European Operations. Do you, or do you not, wish to see your dreams fulfilled?”

Ophelia swallowed, striving for the same cool demeanor her mother exhibited now. Paris. It had been her dream since she was a child, during the short years she and her mother had lived abroad in France with her father. Those had been the happiest times of her life, and it was the tragedy of her existence that they had been so fleeting. Her father, considerably older than her mother, had passed on, and Lillian Reid had returned to the States with her young daughter in tow to found the Reid Recruiting Agency. Ever since that time, Ophelia had wished for two things: to earn her mother’s everlasting approval by following in her footsteps and to expand the corporation’s success into the city where she had been happiest—Paris, France. Every step of her education and career had been aimed toward that one, solitary goal.

“Are you saying...if I do this, if I can convince Dane Montgomery to return to New York as the Creative Marketing Director of Towers International...you’ll help me open the Paris branch?”

Lillian gave a short nod. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, is it not? I’ve certainly listened to enough chatter from you about it.”

Lillian rotated her chair toward the expansive window overlooking the city. “Countless others have tried to bring Montgomery out of retirement. If you succeed in procuring him for Bianca Towers, a coup like that will assure your success in an overseas venture. Our client lists will triple as everyone scrambles to sign with the agency responsible for doing the impossible—bringing Dane Montgomery back into the game.”

Ophelia felt a tremble beginning deep within the center of her chest, radiating outward in a peak of adrenaline. Paris. Her dream city. Her mother was right; she had talked about this for a long time. It had been her one desire ever since she’d been old enough to understand her mother’s business. She nibbled her lip as she considered the possibilities.

The offer, however, appeared to have a limited response time, and her reply must have been taking too long.

“Of course, if you feel you’re not ready, not up to the task...I can send someone else, one of the senior recruiters...”

“No!”

This slip of decorum caused Lillian to glance at her.

“No,” Ophelia continued in a calmer voice. “I’m capable. You know that.”

Lillian nodded. “I agree. Because you see, Ophelia—” she pivoted the chair back in her daughter’s direction “—only you can truly appreciate what is at stake here. Only you, as my child, know the sacrifices that have been made, the labor that has been involved in making Reid Recruiting one of the top agencies in the field. Only you can understand.”

She paused, her gray eyes calculating as she looked at her daughter. “We cannot lose that. Do you understand me? We will not lose that.”

Lillian was right. Only Ophelia could appreciate the significance of the situation—she had to succeed at this. She had to keep Reid Recruiting on top. If she didn’t do it, they were lost. And she, along with her mother, would suffer the worst of the consequences.

Should she accomplish this, however, she would be rewarded accordingly—Paris, Director of European Operations, her mother’s stamp of approval. A dream fulfilled.

Ophelia had set her features with the same frosty determination her mother’s had exhibited. “Yes. I understand. You can count on me, Ms. Reid.”

Another rare, if somewhat deprecating, smile had been bestowed.

Now, some forty-eight hours later, and thousands of miles away from that tense scene, Ophelia could still feel the stab of her mother’s grim expression. Compelled by the memory, she slung her long legs over the bed’s edge and pulled herself from its soft foundation to head toward the bathroom.

Staring into the carved-wood-frame mirror, she ran her fingers over her features, picking out the items which possessed a similarity to Lillian Reid’s. There were only slight resemblances—very little, other than the hair color her mother now dyed—between the two. She could have been anyone’s daughter, could have belonged to anyone.

But her lips. Her mouth. This was the one characteristic linking them genetically. The soft pink lips tapering outward to a pointed edge. This was her inheritance.

She touched that feature now and willed her lips upward.

Her mother’s infrequent smile stared back at her in haunting reminder.

Only you can understand.

* * *

AFTER UNPACKING HER suitcase, Ophelia stood beneath the bathroom shower for long minutes and let the warmth of the spray ease away her tension. Changing into more casual clothes, she stretched out on the bed once more and logged on to the inn’s internet connection.

She spent the next few hours on her laptop in the Liliuokalani suite, clicking through websites and articles that mentioned Dane Montgomery. The research Holly had given her, along with her mother’s instructions and her own memory, provided the necessary framework to form a profile of Dane’s past and accomplishments. But Ophelia knew she needed to dig deeper if she was to achieve her goal.

The web was a wealth of information on the former advertising executive, highlighting awards, achievements, accolades and a sparkling career path that had sent Dane higher and higher into the echelons of the corporate world. And then, suddenly, articles dated three years previously exploded into her browser, announcing Dane’s retirement and exit from business. There were dozens of speculations on the reasons: everything from a love child with some celebrity or other to a debilitating disease eating him alive. It was all fodder for the gossips, especially when Dane’s official statement proved to be rather dull reasoning.

I plan to seek out new challenges in a different direction. While I value my time spent in this industry, I’m looking to find personal fulfillment at a less frenzied pace.

He was labeled everything from “certifiably insane” to “a groundbreaking genius.”

In the end, Ophelia sensed he simply felt tired—a feeling she could relate to after her years climbing the ladder at Reid Recruiting. But she had worked relentlessly to prove her value, and now, finally, she would be rewarded. If she could drag Dane back to the world he had left behind.

With a sigh, Ophelia logged off and closed her laptop. She reached for a pillow and curled herself around it, her mind cataloging everything she’d gleaned from her research. She mentally filed away each scrap of information on Dane as she continued to form and revise her plan to recruit him. Soon, jet lag and the six-hour time difference between Hawaii and New York caught up with her. The next thing she knew, she woke to darkness outside her window and the soft sound of island crickets filtering in on the midnight air.

Sitting up in the bed, she realized she’d slept away the rest of the afternoon and all of the evening. Annoyed with this waste of hours, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and decided to see if, by chance, anyone remained awake.

Easing open the door to her room, she glanced down the hall in both directions. A soft light illuminated the stairs, so Ophelia headed that way, her feet moving soundlessly across the carpet. She had just reached the bottom step and noted all the inn’s lights were off for the evening when she heard what sounded suspiciously like a motorcycle outside. She crept closer to the open windows. The echo of hushed dialogue and muted giggles drifted toward her as the motorcycle purred gently.

Leaning forward, she carefully parted two of the blinds’ slats and peered out. In the pale light spilling from the front porch, Ophelia saw a girl leaning against the solid form of a young man as he remained seated on the bike.

They were murmuring affectionately, their foreheads pressed together, and Ophelia felt a sudden tug of longing. She couldn’t remember Cole ever cradling her in such a way—not even in the early stages of their relationship four years ago. But then, he had never much liked public displays of affection. She suppressed a sigh and though she felt jealous of the young couple outside the inn, she experienced no such regret for ending things with Cole.

But to be held in such a way...wasn’t that every girl’s dream?

As the embrace lingered, Ophelia felt embarrassed for intruding. Straightening, she began to head back toward the stairs but stubbed her toe on the edge of a cabinet, causing her to hop around and bite back a string of curses. By the time she regained her balance, the front door had eased open, and the girl she’d been spying on stood before her. For a moment, they simply stared at each other in surprise.

Ophelia rubbed her opposite foot over her smarting toe. “Sorry,” she apologized.

“For what?” the girl asked.

“Um...” Ophelia trailed off, reluctant to admit she’d been watching the younger woman’s midnight tryst.

“Are you a guest?” The girl stepped forward, and Ophelia could only nod in acknowledgment. The younger woman’s face split into a beaming smile featuring even white teeth against the backdrop of her smooth, sun-kissed complexion. “Aloha, I’m Leilani.” She extended a hand. “I’m in charge of reception, events and bookings.”

Though the words were spoken softly in deference to the late hour, Ophelia noted the pride in them. She relaxed at the friendly introduction.

“Ophelia Reid,” she said in equally hushed tones and inserted her hand into Leilani’s. “I flew in from New York this morning. I’m booked in the Liliuokalani suite for the week.”

“Oh, yeah.” Leilani’s head bobbed, her long, dark hair swishing forward with the movement. “You booked at the last minute, right? Something about unexpected travel plans?”

Ophelia licked her lips, uncertain how much she should reveal to one of Dane’s employees. “Well, um...yes. My assistant would have been the one to make all the arrangements.”

Leilani’s eyes widened. “Oh. Your assistant?”

“It’s a long story.”

Leilani cocked her head with curiosity, studying Ophelia. “Have you eaten?” she questioned at last.

Ophelia’s stomach growled right on cue. She frowned apologetically. “I fell asleep for a few hours. The time difference and all.”

Leilani waved a hand as if this happened all the time.

“I suppose I could drive down to the coast,” Ophelia considered. “Surely there’s got to be some late-night diners open or something.”

Now Leilani was shaking her head. She reached out to grab Ophelia’s hand, dragging her along as she spoke in whispers. “I’m starving! We’ll raid the fridge together. That way, if we get caught, I can tell them you forced me into it.”

Ophelia couldn’t help grinning at this girl’s friendliness.

“But there’s one condition.” Leilani halted and turned to face her. “You can’t tell my tutu or Dane that I got in so late.”

“Tutu?”

“My grandmother,” Leilani explained.

“Oh.” Ophelia considered her. “Are you breaking your curfew? I did that a time or two myself back in high school.” Never any more than that, though. She dared not risk it and upset her mother.

“I’m almost nineteen,” Leilani said, “but after everything that happened last year, I still get treated like I’m a toddler sometimes. Especially by my tutu.”

Leilani released Ophelia’s hand and led her through a doorway, flicking on lights to reveal the interior of the inn’s kitchen. When Leilani began speaking once more, her voice was soft but not nearly so hushed as before.

“Dane’s not so bad—he trusts me. But Tutu still worries.”

“Your grandmother...er, your tutu, is...” Ophelia prompted.

“Oh, Pele. The housekeeper and cook? You probably met her already. You’d remember if you had.”

Ophelia grimaced at the recollection of the short, feisty woman. “Yes. I know what you mean.”

Leilani nodded, her expression serious despite the humor in Ophelia’s tone. “I got into some pretty bad stuff a year ago. I cleaned up my act but grandmas...you know how they are.”

Ophelia bit her lip and didn’t say anything. Her paternal grandparents had been gone long before she was born, and she had never gotten to spend much time with her maternal ones before they passed away during her college years. Her mother had avoided visits with them as much as possible.

Leilani seemed not to notice Ophelia’s silence as she turned and opened the fridge door to begin rummaging inside.

“Do you like huli huli chicken?” she asked from within the recesses of the refrigerator.

“I’m sorry—what?”

Leilani emerged holding several containers. “Huli huli chicken?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh, um...I guess it’s sort of like barbecue chicken but with ginger, soy sauce, brown sugar, you know.”

Another rumble in Ophelia’s stomach settled the matter for her. “I’d love to try it.”

Leilani nodded with a grin and continued to pull containers from the fridge, announcing their contents as she placed them on the kitchen island.

“Mango bread, huli huli chicken, steamed rice with pineapple, roasted sweet potatoes...”

Ophelia began peeling lids off the dishes. “Sounds like a feast.”

“Tutu may be a little prickly sometimes, but her food is pure sweetness.”

Inhaling the fragrant scents of soy, spice and sugar, Ophelia didn’t argue this statement. Leilani opened cupboards and pulled forth plates and glasses. Placing them on the kitchen island, she gathered utensils and began spooning out generous helpings of the leftovers.

“How are you enjoying Hawai’i?” the younger girl asked conversationally.

Ophelia noticed she pronounced her homeland’s name with the appropriate accent. It was a pleasant sound.

“It’s beautiful. An island paradise. But I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours, so I can’t say I’ve experienced much.”

“Except Tutu’s hospitality?” Leilani smirked as she slid a plate of food into the microwave above the stove to heat it.

“Is she always so...”

“Outspoken? Usually.” Leilani shrugged. “But she’s been touchy lately. Things are...tense.”

Ophelia straightened with interest. “Oh?”

“Yeah. The inn and plantation are experiencing financial issues. When Dane bought the property, it had fallen into pretty bad disrepair. He sank all of his savings into the renovations and roasting equipment, and he hasn’t been able to recoup his investment.”

Ophelia mulled over this new information. “Any new venture takes time to turn a profit,” she remarked.

“That’s what Dane tells Tutu to keep her from worrying. But it’s not hard to tell that he’s worried, too.”

The microwave emitted a series of beeps, and Leilani swapped out one plate for another. She turned to face Ophelia once more.

“So you should feel good, knowing your stay here contributes to a worthy cause.” She winked pleasantly, and Ophelia felt the sting of guilt.

“It’s a lovely inn, and I’m happy my stay will provide a bit of income. Only...”

Leilani placed the first warmed plate of food on the table and gestured for Ophelia to take a seat. Carrying her glass and a set of flatware with her, she settled at the teak table.

“Only?”

“Only, I’m afraid you’ve been nothing but sweet and open with me, and you’ll likely not appreciate my reasons for coming here in the first place.”

Leilani considered her for several seconds, and Ophelia left the plate of food untouched as they stared at each other. Eventually, the microwave’s beeping broke the silence.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Leilani made no move toward the microwave.

“Them?”

“From Dane’s past. From New York.”

“No, not exactly. I mean, yes, I’m from New York. But I just met your boss this morning. I knew him by his reputation in the corporate world, but we never laid eyes on each other before today.”

Leilani cocked her head, studying. “Then you’re one of those recruiters.”

Ophelia dipped her head in acknowledgment. “How many have there been? Before me?”

Leilani shrugged carelessly before turning toward the microwave. “Enough to become an annoyance.” She turned back and studied Ophelia. “None as pretty as you, though.”

Ophelia blushed, but Leilani turned back toward the microwave without commenting further. Removing her own warmed plate, she joined Ophelia at the table, settling comfortably across from her. Ophelia toyed awkwardly with her silverware, not wanting to appear rude by diving straight into the food. Her mother had instilled that habit in her long ago.

Leilani noted her fidgeting and grinned, putting her at ease once more. “Go ahead. Tutu’s a much better cook than conversationalist—I promise.”

Offering a small smile in return, Ophelia took up her fork and speared a chunk of roasted sweet potato. The starchy morsel melted on her tongue, a tangy ginger glaze causing her taste buds to tingle happily. She quickly forked another bite and then a third into her mouth before moving on to the crisp, smoky, soy skin of the huli huli chicken. After a long stretch of minutes and more bites that included the doughy, honeyed mango bread and fragrantly steamed rice with pineapple, Ophelia paused to take a breath. At some point while she ate, Leilani had filled her glass with lime-spiked water. She took a long sip before shrugging apologetically.

“I must have been hungrier than I realized.”

Leilani beamed at her. “It’s good to see a city girl eat like that. Most of the other recruiters who came turned up their noses at our food. It offended Tutu immensely.”

“It’s their loss,” Ophelia assured as she peeled another savory section of chicken from the bone and popped it into her mouth.

“Tutu’s going to end up loving you.”

Ophelia wrinkled her nose with skepticism. “I somewhat doubt that, but...” She paused. “Thank you. For not getting upset about why I’m here.”

Leilani licked her fingers and leaned back in her chair. “You’re just doing your job.”

“That’s a very positive outlook. I hardly imagine other recruiters were welcomed so generously.”

“Dane’s a grown man. He knew what he was doing when he left the mainland, and he knows what he’s doing here. No one can change that, except him. Tutu doesn’t give others enough credit to make their own decisions.”

Ophelia reached for a napkin from the stack in the middle of the table. She wiped her fingers with it before placing it next to her plate. “Is that why you were sneaking in tonight? She doesn’t trust you?”

“It’s more complicated than that. Tutu has been responsible for me for years. And she had good reason to worry for a long time. But things are different now. I’m different. And she hasn’t been able to see that.”

“She seems like a woman who could be pretty stubborn....” Ophelia thought about her own mother’s rigid standards and dropped her eyes to toy with the remains of her rice, pushing the grains into a tidy pile in the corner of her plate. “But I’m sure she loves you. She seems like someone who would love fiercely.”

When she looked back up, Leilani nodded. “She is! She’s been there for me through a lot. I just wish she’d give me some credit for how much I’ve changed.”

Ophelia tried redirecting the subject. “Who was it that brought you home tonight, if you don’t mind my asking?”

Leilani’s eyes sparkled at this question. “My boyfriend, Sam. We’ve been seeing each other for three months now. Dane’s even been giving him odd jobs around the plantation. I think it kinda drives Tutu crazy, having him around so much.” Leilani giggled at this.

“So do you have a boyfriend?” she asked.

Ophelia started at this unexpected question.

“Um...”

“You’re not wearing a wedding ring.” Leilani pointed out the obvious.

“No. I, er, recently got out of a long-term relationship.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

But even as she said the words, Ophelia noticed the younger girl smiling.

She raised her glass of water. “Then here’s to your week of island adventures.”

Ophelia thought it a strange toast, but she clinked her glass next to Leilani’s and then took a sip.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Leilani said. “It will be good for Dane.”

Ophelia couldn’t be sure what Leilani meant by that and decided perhaps it was safer not to ask.

* * *

DANE WAITED RATHER anxiously for Ophelia Reid to appear in the inn’s dining room the following morning. Keahi filled a large plate with stacks of golden macadamia nut waffles slathered in coconut syrup while Pele listened to Leilani chattering about her time kayaking at Kealakekua Bay the day before. Dane sipped from his coffee and made occasional attempts to read the newspaper, but with each slight noise, he would glance up, expecting to see Ophelia enter the room.

He attributed this edginess to Ms. Reid’s agenda—the last thing he wished to deal with was a pushy recruiter making the same offers he’d heard dozens of times in the past three years. But deep down, he had the uneasy feeling that Ophelia’s proposal wasn’t the only reason his gaze kept wandering to the dining room doorway.

He was sending just such a glance toward the entry when she finally appeared. The sight of her caused a tingling of interest along his nerves, but he forced himself to greet her casually with an offhand, “Good morning.”

He noted with a frown that she was not much more suitably dressed than the day before. Her pale green button-down shirt and knee-length black skirt flattered her figure immensely but reinforced the impression of her professional image. Dane didn’t much like the reminder, even if he did admire the long length of her calves as she crossed the room.

He forced himself to look away, returning to his papers, though he couldn’t find where he’d left off in the article he’d been reading. He finally placed the page aside and looked up, catching Ophelia’s eye. She offered a friendly smile, which ignited a warmth in his stomach. He found it a difficult endeavor to tear his gaze away from her.

“Are those waffles?” she questioned as she pulled out a chair.

“Macadamia nut,” Keahi offered around a mouthful of food. He shoved the platter her way before introducing himself. “I’m Keahi, the boss’s right-hand man.” He stood and reached across the table to offer the hand he had just mentioned.

She took it before seating herself across from Leilani and to Dane’s right. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Ophelia.”

“Keahi is my plantation manager,” Dane felt the need to elaborate.

“Would you like some sausage?” Leilani extended the plate.

Ophelia nodded and took a link. “Everything looks delicious, Pele.”

Pele didn’t utter a sound of acknowledgment but moved around the table to begin mounding several spoonfuls of fresh fruit onto Ophelia’s plate.

“Tutu loves to cook. It’s part of her nurturing spirit,” Leilani informed.

Dane cocked his head in curiosity. “Ophelia, you haven’t met Leilani yet, have you?”

Both girls flushed with what looked like guilt to him. He studied them more closely.

“Have you?” he pressed.

“Of course not,” Ophelia spoke up and then reached across the table to extend her hand. “Leilani, you must be in charge of reception and bookings. You probably spoke to my assistant, Holly, on the phone on Friday.”

“Miss Reid, of course.”

“Please, call me Ophelia.”

They looked way too conspiratorial for two people who had just met. He glanced at Pele, but she was busy pouring Ophelia a glass of juice and didn’t notice the exchange. And then, as one, the two younger women turned to look at him. He had the strangest feeling of being left out of something, and he didn’t much like it. When he gave no reaction, they turned back to each other.

“And what are your plans for your stay, Ophelia? I believe your assistant said you were on a business trip?” Leilani questioned.

“Yes, I’m actually here to present your boss with an offer to return to the mainland. As the Creative Marketing Director of Towers Resorts International.”

“Towers Resorts? Aren’t they opening a resort in Waikiki?” Keahi questioned.

Ophelia nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, among a few others. It’s part of an ongoing expansion project. However, Bianca Towers, who inherited the company following her uncle’s death, is striving for a new image, and she’d like your boss to lead the way for her.”

“He’s retired,” Pele flatly informed.

Dane said nothing and waited for Ophelia’s response.

“I understand, but your boss was the best the business world has seen in terms of innovation and success in the advertising and marketing field. It’s why he still receives offers, even three years into his retirement.”

She slid a glance his way, but he refused to react to this praise. He had heard the same drivel spouted endlessly for years—it failed to penetrate anymore. He was proud of his previous successes, but he felt driven by his newest challenge—cultivating coffee. Ophelia spoke of his old life, and he was only interested in the new.

Leilani, however, looked at him with a curious gaze. “Is that true? Were you really as good as she says?”

He reached for his coffee. “Headhunters exaggerate.”

“Recruiters,” Ophelia corrected, and he felt gratified by the way her jaw tightened on the word, “focus on potential.”

“Well, my potential has been refocused. Here. To this plantation.”

She met his gaze with a determined one of her own. “Perhaps you’d like to hear the terms of the proposal before you dismiss it out of hand?”

“After breakfast,” Dane relented, knowing he’d have to at least look at the offer. She wouldn’t give up until he did, and they might as well get the formalities out of the way so he could focus on running his plantation. “Deal,” Ophelia declared, the one word causing him to cringe as if it indicated he’d agreed to the contract.

Ophelia must have noticed his reaction because she frowned. “My suite is beautiful,” she said, as if this one compliment could make up for her being here.

“Ms. Reid—”

“Ophelia,” she again corrected.

“Ophelia,” he repeated with a nod in her direction, “is staying in the Liliuokalani suite.”

“Without a husband,” Pele tacked on as she settled into her own seat.

“I believe Lili-uo-kalani,” Ophelia pronounced the name with care, “was a forward-thinking lady, was she not? Surely she would approve of a single woman renting a suite that bears her name.”

Pele clucked her tongue. “What do you know of Liliuokalani?”

Ophelia’s grin seemed slightly smug, Dane thought. “I know she reigned as Hawaii’s last sovereign before the monarchy was overthrown around the turn of the previous century. She became queen following her brother’s death. David Kalakaua—am I saying that right?—who had named her his successor when he had no children to inherit the throne. A terrible injustice, the way she was imprisoned in Iolani Palace for a year and then later forced to abdicate. It is a fitting name for such a lovely suite, by the way.”

Dane stared at Ophelia following this unexpected flow of information. His gaze shifted to find Pele’s eyes narrowed to slits but then she gave a nod of approval. “You should eat more. You’re too skinny.”

Pele moved to pile another stack of waffles onto Ophelia’s plate. She nudged the syrup within easy reach. Dane eyed Ophelia again until she glanced his way, and then he arched his eyebrow in question at her newfound knowledge.

“I looked it up,” she confessed as she unfolded her napkin and smoothed it across her lap. “Your free Wi-Fi amenity is quite good here.”

He found himself fascinated by her confident demeanor, and the way she licked her lips before cutting into a section of waffle. The movements held him mesmerized, the length of her fingers, the curve of her wrist...until Keahi cleared his throat, and Dane shook himself back to awareness.

Ophelia didn’t seem to notice his distraction. “I only managed a brief glance at the property on my way in yesterday. Tell me more about the coffee plantation.”

Dane hesitated, uncertain why a recruiting headhunter wished to know about his life here unless she planned to use it in her arguments somehow. The air around the table grew thick with tension as he waited, studying Ophelia’s face. She remained turned toward him, her expression open and genuinely curious. He could feel the rest of his staff waiting for him to respond.

“There are fifteen acres, and about 2,500 coffee trees. We also have an orchard with mangoes, papayas, bananas and coconuts. Most of the fruit you’re served here at the inn is harvested from the plantation. We sit at an elevation of 1,200 feet above Kealakekua Bay, but we’re a short drive to some of the best attractions you’ll find anywhere, including snorkeling, swimming, historic spots, shopping and tours.”

“Yes, your brochure was most impressive,” she noted, and Dane frowned, realizing he had repeated most of what was already in their literature.

“So, why coffee?” Ophelia questioned as she speared a bite of sausage. “Why Hawaii?”

“Why not?” he countered. “Coffee is one of the world’s most sought-after commodities, and Hawaii is paradise.”

“But don’t you ever miss the city?” she pressed.

He leveled his gaze on her. “The concrete, the press of people, the exhaust fumes?”

“The accessibility, the high-rises, the adrenaline?”

“Didn’t we agree we’d negotiate after breakfast?”

To his consternation, he felt that same warmth spreading through his stomach as Ophelia Reid grinned brightly at him and didn’t say another word.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER FINISHING HER proposal outlining the generous offer from Towers Resorts International, Ophelia was gratified to witness a slight break in Dane’s composure. He leaned back in his chair on the lanai and eyed her carefully.

“Those are some impressively decadent figures. Color me flattered. But I have to disagree on my worth—my skills hardly do such a number justice.”

“Bianca Towers would disagree. She feels you’re worth every penny of that price.”

“Ms. Towers is a spoiled brat, from what I’ve read,” Dane commented.

“Ms. Towers is quite concerned with the future image of Towers Resorts International. Her uncle’s passing and her subsequent inheritance of the company have created a media furor.”

“I noticed,” Dane dryly remarked. “Those photos of her, passed out drunk in the back of that rock star’s limo, were really in poor taste, even for the paparazzi.”

“Mmm, exactly. She needs a solid team behind her, to reestablish her company as a worldwide mecca of luxury and refinement.”

“And Ms. Towers feels she needs me to accomplish this?”

Ophelia leaned forward in her own seat and cocked her head. “Come now, Dane, don’t be modest. How many companies was it that you turned around during your time in the corporate spotlight?”

He scowled at her, but she would not be deterred.

“Take the case of the Heston Group alone. They were on the verge of bankruptcy from bad investments and poor media relations, and you stepped in at the last minute, raising them from the ashes and placing them within the top three companies in their field. Time magazine did an entire feature on it.”

“I don’t do that kind of work anymore,” he insisted. “And there are plenty of others who do. Go dangle your enormous salaries in front of one of them.” In his agitation, he stood and began pacing in front of the patio’s railing.

“Bianca has been very specific,” Ophelia smoothly returned. “She wants you. Only your skills and knowledge will do.”

“Has no one ever told her she can’t have everything she wants?”

Ophelia felt her lips turn upward of their own volition. “I rather doubt it,” she couldn’t resist remarking.

He looked at her directly then, in such a way that Ophelia’s heart began to pound in her chest, and she was forced to turn her attention elsewhere before she began to blush. She focused her gaze on the garden below and savored the breeze, breathing deeply of the fecund scents of greenery and soil.

“Have you ever tasted Kona coffee, Ophelia?” Dane questioned, drawing her attention back to him.

He leaned against the lanai rail, his gaze intent on her. “No,” she confessed. “Though I’ve heard it is incomparable.”

“The remarkable thing about Kona coffee is how each farm’s beans lend a different layer to the flavor profile. While some Konas are nutty with a faint caramel flavor, others are slightly sweeter with berry notes. In general, all Kona coffees have a bright but mellow acidity to them with a full, almost buttery body.”

“You must have a gourmet’s palate,” she said.

Dane shrugged off this remark. “Not especially. But what I find interesting about coffee is the same thing I find interesting about people—the diverse layers of flavor, or purpose. Some are more complex than others with notes so varied and subtle that it takes true effort to define them.”

She held his eye as he studied her. “And you’re still trying to figure out mine, is that it?”

He didn’t respond, and the silence was broken when Pele entered the lanai carrying a tray with a white carafe, two demitasse cups and a plate of candied fruits and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.

Dane took the tray from Pele and thanked her. She lingered, head cocked as she watched the two of them, until Dane pointedly cleared his throat.

“Thank you, Pele.”

With a shrug, she turned and headed back inside.

“Here.” Dane poured them each a demitasse cup of rich, dark coffee and passed one her way.

She leaned her nose into the fragrant beverage and noted the faintest scents of berry and cocoa. Blowing first on the liquid, she took a small sip and was rewarded with a satisfying explosion of tart fruitiness and mellow cocoa flavor along her tongue. She allowed the full body of the brew to linger in her mouth before it slid down her throat. Greedily, she took another steaming sip.

“It’s fantastic,” she admitted. “Easily the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted.”

He grinned proudly. “I knew you’d think so. It’s our own beans, roasted right here on the plantation.”

His pleased expression reminded her of a little boy who had been praised for a job well done. She took another sip. “Impressive.”

She reached for one of the chocolate macadamia nuts. The delicate milk chocolate against the nutty flavor of the treat only served to highlight the Kona roast’s cocoa notes even further.

“I assume this little exercise is meant to demonstrate for me the allure of island life?”

“The point of this little exercise was to demonstrate the quality of the product. Coffee is the second-most-traded commodity in the world, next to oil, and Kona is one of the most lucrative beans. Why should I give that up, along with paradise, to return to a city that never held much appeal for me and a career I left behind?”

As much as she hated to play the card Leilani had handed her the evening before, she knew she had to use it. “Because you’re drowning in debt, and the very best coffee beans in the world can’t save you if you don’t have the capital to properly distribute them.”

He sat in what she assumed was stunned silence. Ophelia placed her demitasse cup back on the tray.

“With all due respect, I think it takes more than a good cup of coffee to turn down an offer such as the one Bianca Towers has made you.”

She could tell by the hardening of his jaw that her words had only served to anger him.

“How do you know about the plantation’s financial situation?”

Ophelia held her breath for a second before releasing it. “Like you said, I’ve done my homework.”

He glared at her, and she felt every ounce of the pressure he must be under.

“Let me make you another offer,” she said. “My firm will pay you $10,000 in addition to my reservation at the inn if you’ll be my personal guide for this week. It will give you the opportunity to show off your paradise here, and it will allow me the chance to highlight all the benefits of Ms. Towers’s offer to you.”

The glare dissolved, replaced by wariness. She could tell he hadn’t expected this change in tactics.

“That seems somewhat...desperate.”

Ophelia attempted to keep her expression neutral. “Perhaps we’re both a little desperate, hmm? Why not see if it can work to our advantage?”

She had always known Dane Montgomery would be the toughest recruitment of her career. But she had the feeling that if she could just spend enough time with him, get to know him, find some sort of compromise to their situations...

“Fine.”

She knew that this time, her face revealed her surprise. “Fine? I mean...you’ll do it?”

“For $10,000, I’ll be your personal tour guide...for this week only.” He rose to his feet. “But let me warn you, Ms. Reid, that others with more experience than you have tried many times over the past three years to lure me back.”

“I’m well aware of that.”

He paused, seeming to consider her. “What makes you think you’ll have a better chance than they did?”

She met his gaze with determination. “I don’t know that I do,” she confessed, “but I have to try.”

He straightened at this, and did she imagine it, or was there just the slightest hint of respect in his gaze?

“Then let the games begin.”

* * *

FOLLOWING HER PRELIMINARY negotiations with Dane, Ophelia excused herself, heading to her room so she could check in back home. She stared at her cell phone for a long time before she finally decided to send her mother an email instead. It would be much less stressful than attempting to fill in the details by phone.

She opened up her laptop and typed a short missive.

To: Lillian Reid <lillian.reid@reidrecruiting.com>

From: Ophelia Reid <ophelia.reid@reidrecruiting.com>

Subject: Dane Montgomery

Ms. Reid,

Things are progressing naturally concerning Dane Montgomery, with the expected resistance to our offer. As we discussed, I have offered him the additional monetary incentive in exchange for his time, and he has agreed to the terms. I will continue to outline the benefits regarding his acceptance of this contract and will keep you apprised of any developments.

Sincerely,

Ophelia

She considered adding something of a more personal nature, even going so far as to type PS The weather is lovely, followed by We should visit here together one day, and then she immediately deleted such trite words, knowing what her mother would think of them.

She sent off the email and closed her laptop, hesitating as she considered calling Cole to see how he was doing. A sense of obligation prompted her to reach for her phone. She took note of the time difference, opened her speed-dial list and tapped Cole’s name. She drew a breath and held it as the line rang once, twice, three and then four times before her ex-boyfriend finally answered.

“Hello, Fee.”

She cringed at Cole’s nickname for her.

“Ophelia,” she corrected.

“Right. Of course. Sorry.”

He sounded truly contrite, and guilt washed over her. She quickly brushed it aside.

“How’s paradise?” he asked.

“It’s lovely,” she said, and realized she was nervously tapping her index finger on her laptop. She cleared her throat and pushed the computer from her lap.

“Have you convinced Montgomery to accept the contract yet?”

She felt a twinge of irritation. “I’ve barely been here twenty-four hours. It’s not the easiest recruitment ever, you know.”

“So I take it that’s a no?”

His voice held a hint of amusement, and she found her irritation rising.

“If you were here—”

“I’m not.” He cut her off.

This sudden interruption gave her pause. She couldn’t fault him for being touchy, not after she’d broken things off between them.

“I’m sure you’ll convince him eventually,” he said. This generous nod to her recruiting abilities sharpened her guilt even further, but she reminded herself of the reason she’d broken up with Cole in the first place.

“I’ll certainly do my best.”

The silence between them was strained.

“Cole—”

“Ophelia—”

They both stopped.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Fee?” She didn’t correct him a second time about the nickname. She already knew to what he referred.

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted, Cole. It’s the only thing I’ve ever asked of you—that you be willing to move to Paris so I could oversee the European branch when the time came. I know that it’s a big commitment, but every time we discussed it, you said you’d be willing to go with me when the time came. Now it’s finally coming to pass, and you’re backing out of your end of the bargain.”

“Don’t forget that the entire deal hinges on you bringing Montgomery out of retirement. You just pointed out that it’s not the easiest recruitment, by far.”

“It changes nothing about you and me, though. I asked you to choose. I told you what it came down to—Paris with me or New York without me. You made it quite clear what you preferred.”

“I asked for some time to think about it—I didn’t know I was writing us off forever by wanting a chance to consider my options.”

“I want to be more than an option for you,” she stated. “Besides, has anything changed since I left? Have you decided I’m worth it, after all?”

The soft static of the line spoke volumes even when Cole said nothing. She scoffed slightly.

“Paris is everything to me. Everything,” she reiterated.

“Everything?” His voice was wounded when he finally spoke.

She sighed with weariness and leaned over to rest her forehead in the palm of her hand. “Cole, please. You have always known how important this is to me.”

“But you’d be leaving everything familiar behind. Including your mother.”

A strangled laugh escaped her throat. “I could finally prove myself to her.”

“Prove yourself? To your own mother? Ophelia, that’s not necessary. Surely you know that.”

She couldn’t explain it to him. She wondered if he had ever understood, if he had ever even paid attention to what passed for a mother-daughter relationship between her and Lillian Reid.

Her lack of a reply must have compelled him to speak further. “Ophelia, be reasonable. We’re talking about our future.”

She felt a twist of pity for him. “Cole, I don’t think we have a future.”

Another minute of silence stretched out between them.

“And what’s your plan if you don’t succeed? If you can’t convince Montgomery to return?”

The thought left a weight of apprehension in her stomach. She couldn’t fail her mother like that. She couldn’t fail herself and her dreams.

“I’ll figure it out. There’s no need to concern yourself.”

“Of course not. Why would I do that?” His words were laced with resentment.

She felt herself bristle. “Right. No need to expect your support or anything.”

They sighed at the same time.

“Well, I just wanted to check in,” she said.

“Yeah. Thanks for that. And good luck with Montgomery. You’re probably going to need it.”

She resisted the urge to grind her teeth together.

“Right. Take care, Cole.”

“You, too.”

As she ended the call, she marveled at the two of them, how awkwardness outweighed any heartbreak they might have experienced. She wondered if their entire relationship had been based on convenience and expectation rather than love. For her part, she felt only frustration.

Placing these thoughts aside and trying not to let Cole’s words get to her, she began preparing for her tour with Dane.

When Ophelia reappeared on the first floor of the inn to meet up with her host, she found Leilani waiting for her instead. The younger girl appeared awkward and uncomfortable as she shifted from one sandaled foot to the other and tugged on the hem of her coral-colored T-shirt.

“Dane’s a little preoccupied right now, so he asked if I could give you a tour of the plantation in his place.”

Ophelia clenched her jaw. Her assignment here was difficult enough, given Dane’s stubborn recalcitrance, but to have him renege on their arrangement so soon rankled thoroughly. Her mother had not advised her to throw away money needlessly. The $10,000 incentive was meant to anchor Ophelia to Dane’s side, allowing her time to get to know the man and continually illustrate the benefits of his return.

But seeing Leilani’s discomfort, she didn’t feel she could take out her annoyance on the younger woman. She forced herself to relax.

“Well, he’ll just have to make it up to me later, won’t he? At least it will give us some girl time together, right?”

Leilani’s fidgeting eased as a look of relief bloomed on her pretty face. She nodded enthusiastically. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

* * *

“SURELY YOU CAN appreciate my situation, Dane.”

Dane clenched his jaw to keep from arguing. After all, Kenneth Masters had been generous enough in loaning Dane money to continue operations some months ago...if only Dane had realized the motives behind Masters’s scheme before he had accepted. Now, the other man was suddenly revising the terms and requesting payment in full within the week.

“It’s been a difficult year for all of us. You know how hard it is to compete with the larger estates.”

Dane still said nothing. It was rumored that Masters imported cheaper, inferior coffee beans from other regions, mixing them with his own crop of Kona in order to offer “quality Kona coffee” at a significantly lower rate of sale than his fellow farmers could provide. No one had dared to pursue an investigation on Masters, however, and Dane hadn’t learned about these illegal practices until after his deal with his shady neighbor had already been struck. It had unfortunately not occurred to Dane before this that perhaps Masters’s motivations in loaning him the sum went beyond the simple profit he would make on their interest terms.

Dane continued to dig his shovel into the dirt as he formed holes for a new crop of coffee trees. After he felt he had the right depth, he tossed in some fertilizer consisting of macadamia husks, coffee cherry pulp and other various greens and compostable materials.

When he finally looked back up from his task, he saw Masters frowning at him critically. He wondered if the man disapproved of his tenacity in planting more trees when his farm was on the verge of bankruptcy.

“I thought we had agreed to six months on the loan,” Dane finally said as he wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm.

“Well, as I’ve said, it’s been a difficult year.”

Dane sighed and leaned his weight wearily against the support of his shovel. “You know I was waiting until I harvest to pay you back the first installment.”

“I hate to put you in a tough place, Dane. I know you’ve been trying your best with this plantation. Perhaps your reach has exceeded your grasp, hmm? Coffee trees aren’t the same as corporate marketing. I have our contract in writing. There is a clause that states I can call in the loan at any time. My lawyer has all the necessary paperwork.”

Dane held Masters’s gaze until the other man looked away. He then straightened, took his shovel and began driving his spade into the earth once more, directing all his anger into the movement. He knew the clause Masters had mentioned. He hadn’t noticed it until the deal was already done. At the time, he’d been distracted—another recruiter had shown up on his doorstep, this one more obnoxious than most. Coupled with his growing concerns over the farm’s finances, he had been sloppy in his final review of the loan contract with Masters. The clause had not appeared until the last revision of the document, and he’d overlooked it in his haste to finalize the deal. When he had found the clause later, he’d hoped it was merely a formality. Now, he knew better. And he was angry at both himself for his carelessness and Masters for his underhanded trickery.

“Maybe we can come to some other sort of arrangement?” Masters suggested.

“I’m sure you already have something in mind,” Dane remarked as he continued forcing his shovel into the soil, sweat beading on his brow.

“Why not a partnership? I’ll provide the funds to carry you until the harvest, and in turn, you use your reputation and business contacts on the mainland to advance our joined operations.”

Dane stopped digging but gripped the shovel handle tightly. “What was that?” He turned slowly, every line of his body tense at Masters’s suggestion. “We could do what?”

Masters didn’t even have the grace to look abashed. If anything, his smirk seemed even more pronounced than when he had first arrived and sought Dane out, forcing him to forego his afternoon tour with Ophelia and leaving his guest in Leilani’s hands. He was sure Ms. Reid had been anything but happy about the handoff. But now, his pesky recruiter lingered in the corner of his mind. The $10,000 incentive would go a long way in repaying his loan to Masters, even if the other debts still piled up in the interim.

“Come now, Dane. We both know this is a tremendous undertaking for you, especially given your background.”

“I was raised on a farm,” Dane pointed out. “In the Midwest. I’m not a stranger to the manual labor or the long hours.”

“Perhaps during your boyhood...” Masters trailed off. “But now? So many years later?” He clicked his tongue. “You’re in over your head, man. If you’re half the genius they claim, surely you can already see that.”

Dane only knew one thing—success was a lot of hard work and a healthy helping of luck. The hard work wasn’t the problem—he just hadn’t stumbled into the luck bit yet.

“Why not let me help you out? By merging your name with mine, we could go far, Montgomery. Especially given your reputation in the corporate world—why not use that to our advantage?”

In that moment, Dane wanted very much to command Masters to leave his property, but he knew that such a reaction would gain him nothing but the satisfaction of Masters’s indignation. It seemed everyone wanted a piece of his past and reputation, wishing to use his previous successes to their own benefit. He kept silent following Masters’s suggestion, considering the best response to buy him more time without surrendering to the other man’s demands. He was just thinking how desperately he needed some sort of miracle when he raised his head and saw Ophelia Reid striding toward them.

* * *

THOUGH OPHELIA HAD found Leilani to be an excellent guide, Dane’s absence had chafed more and more as they’d continued her tour of the plantation. Granted, the rows of coffee trees laden with green orbs waiting to ripen into red coffee cherries had proved an impressive sight, but Ophelia had continued to calculate the minutes as lost opportunities to speak with Dane personally. Still, she’d occasionally found herself absorbed by Leilani’s descriptions of wet processing, which resulted in a Kona coffee’s clean, bright acidity, and the technique of sun drying the beans on decks called hoshidanas. She’d found herself asking questions and then clarifying each step of coffee cultivation, harvesting, processing, roasting, packaging and finally, distribution.

And despite her irritation over Dane’s disappearing act, she had to admit his small operation was pretty impressive. She and Leilani had emerged from the plantation’s roasting room and begun walking back through the orchards as Leilani summarized the seasons on the plantation and the cycle of life on a coffee farm. But Ophelia had begun tuning out the words as she’d once more wondered exactly where Dane had hidden himself away.

Had that been his intention, to simply hide from her throughout the remainder of her stay? Clearly, his word meant nothing if he planned to avoid her, hoping she would go away. What about the $10,000 incentive? And if he thought, for even one second, that she would lack determination then he had certainly underestimated her!

The longer she’d thought about it, the higher her anger had risen so that by the time she and Leilani had rounded the corner of a row of coffee tree saplings, she had worked herself into an internal lather of righteous indignation.

And when she’d seen Dane Montgomery, standing at ease with a shovel in his hand, she’d muttered a triumphant, “Aha!” under her breath and barreled toward him.

She sensed Leilani’s gasp and the girl’s struggle to keep up with her, but she kept up a clipped pace down the row of trees until she came abreast of her quarry.

“We had a deal.”

“Ms. Reid—”

“Ophelia,” she snapped. “And you broke our bargain.”

Dane cleared his throat. “I apologize if you misunderstood—”

“Misunderstood?” She placed one hand on her hip. “Misunderstood? I hardly think I’m the one in need of clarification here.”

She noticed Dane’s jaw tighten. He seemed to have something to say, but she sensed he was desperately trying to hold his tongue. Then she became aware of the man beside Dane—a deeply tanned, silver-bearded gentleman who put Ophelia in mind of Long John Silver from the book Treasure Island.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” the would-be pirate announced. “Kenneth Masters.” He extended a hand. “Dane’s neighbor.”

Ophelia stuck her hand into his automatically. “Ophelia Reid, executive recruiter. From New York.”

“Ahhhh.” Masters’s face lit up with what seemed to be approval. “So you’ve come to make an attempt at whisking Mr. Montgomery back to the mainland.”

“No one is whisking me anywhere,” Dane remarked.

Leilani came into Ophelia’s line of vision, but she didn’t look at her. She hoped she hadn’t gotten the younger woman in trouble, but she wasn’t about to let Dane off the hook.

“Mr. Montgomery and I had an appointment. He agreed to give me a tour this afternoon.” She decided not to mention the particulars of their arrangement. “But he apparently has a different agenda.”

“I’m afraid that’s my fault,” Masters apologized. “Dane was not expecting my visit today, but it could not be put off. We had an important matter to discuss.”

Ophelia hesitated at this, her gaze shifting to Dane. She had never seen such tension in a man, tightly clenching his fist around the shovel’s handle, the veins in his arm standing in sharp relief along the lines of muscle. She wondered what it would be like to be cradled in the safety of that strong embrace. Blinking, she looked back at Masters and shoved the thought aside.

“I—” She stopped. “Is that true?” she asked.

Masters nodded. “Perhaps you could help us come to some sort of agreement on the subject.”

“Masters.” Dane’s tone was filled with warning, but Ophelia found herself curious. She suddenly realized the strain within the immediate atmosphere was not the direct result of her outburst against Dane. He had already been tense when she’d come upon this scene.

“Oh, Montgomery, why not get her input? After all, if she’s offering you some sort of contract, that could be a benefit to us all.”

Ophelia had been manipulated enough by her mother to see Masters’s tactics for what they were. Still, she waited. Dane made a noise of disgust, but he didn’t stop Masters from elaborating.

“I’m afraid Dane owes me a tidy sum of money—a loan I issued to him recently. Certain circumstances have forced me to call in the debt earlier than anticipated, but of course, Dane is not yet prepared to pay it. I’m suggesting a partnership, which would pair his name with my own resources. Of course, his contacts and reputation in the corporate world would help elevate our joint venture. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Ophelia stared at Masters. He stood, smiling amicably, and beneath the thin veneer of his pleasantness, she noted a flicker of smug conquest. He had Dane right where he wanted him, and the man was hard-pressed to keep from gloating. Ophelia felt a shudder of disgust run through her.

Shifting her gaze, she saw Leilani eyeing her with sympathy while Dane looked off into the distance, as if he couldn’t bear to witness this conversation.

She turned back to Masters, who continued to wait patiently, his grin growing more cocky and self-satisfied by the second.

“You’re suggesting you take over his operation and gain the benefit of his name and reputation?”

“That’s correct—a solution to satisfy everyone involved. Even you might benefit, should Dane decide to return to New York—he could promote our business there at the same time he accepts your client’s offer.”

Ophelia shook he head. “I’m afraid I have to disagree with you.”

Masters’s cheery smugness dissolved, his sneer faltering. “Excuse me?”

“It seems this scheme benefits you more than anyone else. Hardly a fair trade for a small loan of such short terms. And on the contrary, the proposal I’m offering would allow Dane the benefit of a substantial bonus, meaning he could easily clear any debt to you. No point in giving up his farm before harvesting his crops.” She waited a beat before speaking again. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

She found the sour twist to Masters’s mouth strangely gratifying. Risking a quick glance at Dane, she noted him watching her intently, his expression unreadable.

“Well.” This single word from Masters’s lips drew her attention back to him. “You’ll hardly convince Montgomery to return to the mainland with such faulty logic.”

The man suddenly seemed eager to leave.

“Dane, I’ll stop by again in a few days’ time. Unless, of course, you prefer to phone me with your decision sooner.” He cleared his throat and bowed to Ophelia. “Best of luck to you, then, Miss Reid.”

“Nice meeting you,” she answered, but the compliment was not returned as the man strode away.

The atmosphere felt slightly lighter after Masters’s departure, but Ophelia still recognized tension in the air as she faced Dane. She knew her outburst had done little to endear him to the object of her mission.

“I apologize for speaking so hastily concerning our agreement. I didn’t realize you were dealing with important plantation matters.”

Dane continued to eye her carefully, as if he couldn’t quite make up his mind about what had just happened.

“The problem with you and your kind, Ms. Reid, is that you never stop to consider the world is not revolving around you and what you want.”

Ophelia stiffened but bit her tongue to keep from offering a sharp reply. As she paused to rein in her temper, Leilani spoke up.

“I’m sure Dane still wants to honor your agreement. Right, boss?” Leilani nudged Dane’s arm, seeming to remind him of his position in this situation.

In spite of her frustration with the man, she felt a sort of pity as his shoulders sagged. He sighed, his voice simply weary. “Right. Fine.”

“How about if you and Ophelia join us for the bonfire tonight? Sam and some of our friends are having one on the beach. It’ll be fun, and maybe it’ll make up for this afternoon.”

Ophelia hesitated. The entire day had already been a mess of conflict and misunderstandings. She couldn’t imagine spending an entire evening in Dane Montgomery’s presence, given his current mood. And although she knew it was part of her assignment, she felt disinclined to continue pursuing negotiations with him just now.

But to her surprise, Dane agreed to Leilani’s suggestion.

“All right. If it will make up for my absence this afternoon.” He turned to Ophelia, and she couldn’t be sure if he was resigned or merely reserved on the matter. “Miss Reid...Ophelia. Would you like to join us this evening for a bonfire?”

And despite her own reservations, she answered with a polite nod.

“I would love to.”

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