Gentle Persuasion (8 page)

His stare lingered for a moment longer before he turned his attention away.

“It must be difficult,” he ventured after a brief silence, “to live in her shadow.”

“Not so much her shadow as her very aura.”

“Mmm.” His silence following this nettled her, so that she looked at him.

“Don’t pretend to know what it’s like. I bet your parents are wonderful people—a mom who baked apple pies and welcomed you home from school, and a father who worked hard but took the time to help you with your homework at night.”

“You’re not that far off,” he agreed. “But my father’s gone now. He died of a massive heart attack two years ago.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” She felt a swell of sympathy for his loss, especially so soon after his retirement. She wondered if his father had ever had the chance to visit the inn and plantation to see what his son was trying to accomplish. “And your mother?”

“I tried to convince her to move here after his death, but she didn’t want to leave her life in Ohio behind. My sister lives about two hours from her, so she keeps an eye on things. Mom loves having her grandkids visit, and yes, it just so happens that her specialty is apple pie.”

Ophelia felt a swell of resentment, perhaps even jealousy. “My mother’s just not that kind of woman. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love me or anything like that. She does. I know she does.” Ophelia hated how defensive she sounded.

“I never said she didn’t.” Dane paused. “It must have been difficult for her, raising you alone.” He paused again, then said, “So how about dating? Anyone special?”

“Not...currently.”

He raised an eyebrow with interest. “I sense a story.”

“No, no story.” She spoke a little too quickly, and his second eyebrow rose. “Okay, well, there was someone, but we recently...decided to take a break.”

“We? A mutual parting?”

“Um...”

He rose up from where he’d been leaning on the rocks. She did the same.

“Was it a long-term relationship?”

“Four years.”

He whistled low. “So why the
break,
as you called it?”

“It’s complicated.”

He folded his arms across his chest, and she forced herself not to stare at the sight. “Come on, I’m curious.”

“I’m sure you are.” She made a face.

He unfolded his arms and held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry. It’s obviously a sore subject.”

She looked away.

“Did you love him?” he asked.

She felt a tug of something like...disappointment. “Like I said, it’s complicated.”

“When isn’t love complicated?”

Her eyes jerked to his. “And what about you? There was a long list of high-profile dates during your time, but you never stayed with anyone for long. Has someone here in Hawaii captured your attention? Is that why you’re so adamant about staying on the island?”

He shrugged noncommittally, and Ophelia felt another twinge of disappointment. His vague response led her to believe that maybe there was a special someone in his life, and to her chagrin, she found the thought upsetting.

“I’m sorry. I guess it’s not really my business, either.”

They sat in silence for a long time after that, watching the tourists in the bay and listening to the roar of surf. Ophelia found herself surprised that she wasn’t really uncomfortable in the quiet between them. Despite the awkwardness of their conversation, she continued to feel at ease around Dane.

She was marveling at this when Dane finally spoke up once more.

“There’s no one special in my life.”

She had her legs drawn up to her chest with her arms resting upon them. Now she turned and laid her cheek against her arm, waiting for him to look her way.

When he did, she felt her stomach somersault inside her.

“I’ve dated a lot of great women. I just never found one that I still wanted to be waking up to thirty, forty, fifty years down the road.”

She felt a swell of relief and hated that her emotions seemed to be reacting with no consideration for the part of her that knew attraction to Dane Montgomery was a bad idea.

“I have plans...to move to Paris,” she confessed. “Cole doesn’t want to join me. We argued about it— He always told me he’d come with me, when the time came. But now that I’m moving forward with the plan, he doesn’t want to leave New York.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. So...I told him I thought it would be better if we weren’t together for a while.”

She swiveled her head away from Dane and looked out over the ocean once more. “The truth is, I’m not sure if I love him or not. After four years...shouldn’t a person be more certain?”

Dane didn’t respond, so she shrugged.

“I don’t suppose hearing about my love life was what you had in mind when you agreed to take me sightseeing.”

“I don’t mind.” There was something in his tone, some catch of interest that drew her eyes back to his. He was studying her with that same intensity she had witnessed on and off throughout their morning together. She couldn’t be sure what he was thinking, but the heat in his stare warmed her more thoroughly than the Hawaiian sun.

She cleared her throat and straightened up. “Okay, then, what’s next on the agenda?”

Dane shook his head slightly, as though clearing it of whatever thoughts had been distracting him as he watched her. “Well, in keeping with the theme of sanctuary, there’s a church you might be interested in seeing.”

She cocked her head. “A church? Sounds like an odd tourist hotspot.”

He grinned. “Don’t judge it just yet. Come on, let’s head back to the Jeep.”

* * *

A
T
THE
ENTRANCE
of the St. Benedict Roman Catholic church, Dane gestured for Ophelia to precede him.

He couldn’t help inhaling quickly as she passed by, breathing in the faded scent of her shampoo along with salt water and sun. She had swept her blond hair back into a ponytail again, following their morning swim, and as she walked by, he noticed glittering crystals of sand sprinkled throughout the strands.

He followed behind her into the church, smiling with gratification as he heard her intake of breath.

“I’ve never seen so much color in a church,” she breathed.

They strolled down the center aisle together, Ophelia’s neck arching to take in the Gothic nave-inspired ceiling with its vibrant tropical hues conveying water, sand and palm trees. As they moved farther into the room, her head dropped to swivel right then left then right again as she took in the artwork covering the church’s walls. Images of saints and Biblical tales were reenacted throughout the murals and frescoes.

“The painting was done by a Belgian priest, Father Velghe, in 1899,” Dane said.

Ophelia moved down one of the pews to inspect a mural. “What kind of paint is it?” she asked, reaching out a hand to slide her fingers down the wood.

“Simple house paint,” Dane answered. “He did it for his parishioners, many of whom couldn’t read—”

“—but they could understand the Biblical stories in pictures,” she finished. “Smart fellow, this Father Velghe.”

Ophelia moved out of the pew toward the next painting. Dane followed a few steps behind, more interested in her reactions to the artwork than in the paintings themselves. He had made several visits to the painted church since he had moved to Hawaii. At times, the building hummed with parishioners, clergy or tourists. Other days, it rested still and serene, like now. It gave him the perfect opportunity to observe Ophelia while she directed her attention elsewhere.

He was still processing some of what he’d learned during their morning together. The history of her childhood and relationship with her mother had quickly drawn them into an emotional intimacy he hadn’t expected. And to his consternation, he had to admit that for a headhunter, he found Ophelia Reid rather...likable.

More than that, he confessed to himself, he realized he was attracted to her—and not just for her tall, trim figure and observant green eyes. He enjoyed talking with her and found himself simultaneously surprised and pleased by how understanding she appeared to be of his situation in Hawaii—his desire to retire from corporate life and his resentment at the continuing intrusions of his former career. During their time at the Place of Refuge and snorkeling in the bay, he’d experienced Hawaii anew through her eyes, thrilling at her pleasure in the culture and history of his island home.

He watched as she moved down another pew, her fingers gliding absently across the wooden back. Her hands were slim and finely boned with long, tapered fingers and neatly manicured nails painted in pale shades of opalescent pink. Her index finger showed slight wear, the nail polish chipped at the edges, and he found himself strangely intrigued by this minor detail.

It looked almost as if she had been chewing at the tip of her nail—a sign of nervousness, perhaps? He hadn’t seen her lose her composure, other than when she had challenged him at the bonfire...but perhaps the pressure of her assignment weighed on her. After all, a $10,000 incentive spoke of some desperation on Lillian Reid’s part.

What had the dragon lady said to her daughter before sending her off to the islands in an attempt to secure a contract with him? Did Ophelia feel the strain of those who had come before her and failed to convince him to return? If she did, she possessed a masterful ability at hiding it. She seemed easygoing and professional, confident enough to take on the challenge of his recruitment.... He wondered if there were any doubts beneath her steady facade.

The sound of Ophelia’s throat clearing drew his attention back to her face. She stood watching him with a curious expression, and he smiled as though his careful study of her had been purely intentional.

“What do you think?” he asked.

She ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. A nervous gesture? He imagined his staring had disconcerted her a bit. Cracks in her composure. He liked the thought.

“I love it,” she admitted, her eyes sweeping over the vaulted ceiling once more. “It’s an unmatched combination of Hawaiian culture and European imagery.”

“Well said.” He nodded with approval. “I thought, with your photographer’s eye, you might have an appreciation for it.”

She nodded, still eyeing several of the frescoes. “I wish I had brought a camera along. I’d love to take a few photographs.”

Before he could respond, he felt his cell phone vibrate with a call. Removing it from the pocket of his jeans, he checked the caller ID and saw Leilani’s name. He touched the screen to answer and brought it to his ear.

“Hi, Leilani, what’s up?”

The sound of Leilani’s sniffles brought him to attention.

“Leilani?”

“Dane, you have to come to Kona Community Hospital’s emergency room.”

He felt a stab of panic deep in his abdomen. “What happened?”

“It’s Keahi. He’s hurt.”

“What happened?”

“There was so much blood. Just please hurry!”

Dane stood stunned for a moment. His face must have paled considerably because the next thing he knew, he felt Ophelia’s hand touching his arm.

“Dane? Is everything okay?”

“Are you with him now?” Dane asked, ignoring Ophelia’s question.

“I came outside to call you—cell phones aren’t allowed in the E.R.”

“What happened?” he repeated.

“He was doing some maintenance on the pulper. The next thing we knew, he came into the kitchen dripping blood.”

Dane drew a breath. “Okay, go back inside and stay with him, Leilani. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

As Dane ended the call, he was already heading for the door with Ophelia close on his heels.

CHAPTER SIX

“I’
M
SORRY
,
B
OSS
.”

Keahi uttered those words for the fifth time since Dane had been ushered into his friend’s bay in the E.R., and just as he had the previous five times, Dane offered the same reply.

“It’s okay, Keahi. I don’t blame you.”

“It happened by accident,” Keahi reiterated. “I was doing maintenance on the pulper, and it tipped the wrong way. I tried to grab it, to hold it upright, but it cut into me.” Keahi waved his freshly bandaged arm. The doctor had informed Dane that the four-and-a-half-inch laceration had required twenty-two stitches. “I should have called up Sam to help me.”

Dane watched as Keahi picked restlessly at the perimeter of his bandage.

“I’m really sorry, boss. It was an accident.”

Dane sighed. “Would you stop that?”

“Sorry.”

“I meant stop apologizing in general. And stop poking at your dressing unless you’re trying to get that pretty nurse to come back in here and redo her handiwork.”

Keahi broke into a grin, and Dane felt a flood of relief. “She said I put on a brave face while she stitched everything up. I’m going to ask for her number when she comes back.”

Dane shook his head. “Maybe this entire situation will work to your advantage, after all.”

Keahi leaned back on the hospital bed with a sigh. “You know me, brah. I never waste an opportunity with the ladies.”

This pronouncement elicited a soft chuckle from Dane that slowly faded. His gaze flickered around the curtained cubicle, observing the various machines and instruments. He felt relieved that Keahi’s wound hadn’t been more serious, though he knew his friend would be stuck in the office instead of out on the grounds until he healed. Guilt at the thought gnawed at the corners of Dane’s stomach. “Keahi?” He looked back at his friend. “I think I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”

Keahi straightened. “Why’s that?”

“I should have been there today. I never should have been wasting my time with some New York recruiter.”

Keahi clicked his tongue in disapproval. “It was for a good cause, remember? That pretty lady is paying you ten grand to ‘waste your time’ with her as you put it.”

“I’m not sure it’s worth it.” His feeling of responsibility cut far deeper than Keahi’s wound. He was just grateful the damage to his friend’s arm hadn’t been worse.

“Dane.”

He turned to see Keahi’s round face leveled with seriousness. “This is not your fault.”

He wished he possessed the same certainty on that score. Before he could reply, the curtains of the bay rattled as the nurse reentered the room.

“Mr. Inoa, your family just arrived.” She turned to Dane. “I’m sorry, but there’s only one visitor allowed per patient in the E.R.”

“Sure thing.” Dane straightened. “I’ll head back out to the waiting room and send in someone else.”

Keahi was grinning brightly at the pretty young nurse. “No hurry, brah.”

Dane suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. “How much longer do you think he’ll be here?” he asked the nurse.

“As soon as we process the paperwork, we’ll be giving Mr. Inoa—”

“Call me Keahi, sweetheart.”

The nurse paused at this interruption before continuing. “Final instructions before discharging him.”

Dane offered his thanks as the nurse directed him back to the waiting room. As he was leaving, he heard Keahi ask if his injury would require at-home visitation. He only wished he could have heard the nurse’s reply before he moved out of earshot. Upon reaching the waiting room, he was greeted by Keahi’s parents, who drew him into a hug.

“Pele called us,” Mrs. Inoa explained as she released Dane. “Is it a serious injury?”

Dane shook his head. “It’s a deep laceration, and he’ll have to refrain from any heavy lifting with that arm until it heals, but he’s going to be fine. He’ll likely have an impressive scar, though.”

Mr. Inoa chuckled, the sound tinged with relief. “He’ll probably find some way to use that to impress the ladies. I can’t wait to hear what stories he will come up with to explain how he received such a wound.”

Mrs. Inoa ignored her husband’s amusement and looked to Dane once more. “Can we see him?”

“Only one visitor is allowed with him at a time.”

“You go,” Mr. Inoa said to his wife. “I will keep Dane company.”

After directing Keahi’s mother to the E.R., Dane faced Mr. Inoa. “I’m sorry, sir.”

Mr. Inoa’s expression revealed his surprise. “Whatever for?”

Dane had to look away. “I wasn’t there when the accident happened. I should have been.”

When Mr. Inoa didn’t respond, Dane raised his eyes. The older man frowned in confusion.

“I was out sightseeing.” Saying the words out loud only served to deepen the shame Dane felt.

“With the recruiter?”

“Keahi told you about her?”

Mr. Inoa shrugged. “He said another recruiter had arrived, this one much prettier than the others.” He paused. “No one will judge you harshly, Dane, should you decide to return to the life you left behind.”

“No,”
Dane emphasized. “I have no plans to do that. But it’s because of her that I wasn’t with Keahi today, helping with the pulper maintenance.”

“Because of her?”

“Yes. Because she offered a monetary incentive if I agreed to show her around the island.”

“Ah. I see. And you’re feeling guilty that you accepted her offer.”

“I feel guilty that I wasn’t there when Keahi needed me,” Dane corrected.

Mr. Inoa studied him for several long, uncomfortable seconds. He finally shook his head. “No. That’s not what’s bothering you.”

“Excuse me?”

“Where is she?” Mr. Inoa asked by way of reply. He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes roaming the waiting room. “I assume she came to the hospital with you?”

“I insisted that she and Leilani head back to the inn together.”

Mr. Inoa’s gaze swiveled back around to study him. “What’s her name?”

“The recruiter? Ophelia Reid. Why?”

To Dane’s discomfort, Mr. Inoa didn’t answer but rather continued to study him.

“You like this one,” he finally pronounced.

Dane immediately scoffed and turned away, glancing around to see if anyone had overheard Mr. Inoa’s traitorous observation.

“You like her,” Mr. Inoa repeated, this time more softly, “and you feel guilty that you were enjoying your time with her when Keahi got hurt.”

Dane lifted his head to stare at Keahi’s father. He tried to convey with his expression that Mr. Inoa should abandon this line of thought.

“The plantation is ultimately my responsibility, as is the equipment. Now the pulper will need repairs, and I don’t have the money for it. If I’d been there to help Keahi, this never would have happened.”

Mr. Inoa seemed unfazed by this. “Bring her to the café tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Bring this recruiter woman to the café in Holualoa tomorrow. I would like to meet her.”

“Um...can I ask why?”

“I’m curious about her.”

Dane’s doubt must have showed because Mr. Inoa offered up a suggestion. “Perhaps this one should see what all you’d be leaving behind if you left here—not just the plantation and scenery but everyone who cares about you.”

This unexpectedly touched Dane. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

* * *

“
I
DON
’
T
EXPECT
you to understand. But it’s imperative that Dane Montgomery comes to work for me.”

Lillian Reid kept her face impassive and didn’t correct Bianca’s assumption—she understood more than the girl realized. Instead, she watched as her young client speared an olive from her chef’s salad and brought it to her lips. She resisted the urge to look around the establishment to see which of her rivals might be having lunch at this same restaurant. She had chosen it specifically because it was a place her fellow recruiters and clients frequented, aiming to show that Bianca Towers remained on her list of exclusive, high-profile clientele. She wanted them all to see that Reid Recruiting still held the Towers account.

“He’s the forbidden fruit, the executive no one else has managed to procure. I can certainly understand how that must hold some sort of allure,” she offered.

Bianca put down her fork with a frown, a small indentation forming between her brows. Lillian envied the girl’s smooth features, still unlined and fresh. How young she seemed. Young and perhaps a touch naive. She should have left these decisions to her board of directors and spent her days shopping and her evenings in clubs...or however she had been misspending her youth before her uncle’s death and the transfer of the family business to her name.

“No, that’s not it.” Her client’s words were firm, but Lillian suppressed a sigh. The girl had illusions about Dane Montgomery—that bringing him back to New York would redefine her as a serious businesswoman. Lillian felt hard-pressed to keep from pointing out that Bianca’s own reputation had preceded her to the boardrooms of Towers International. The young woman had been known for extravagant indulgences and celebrity bad-boy relationships. Her belief that Montgomery could somehow repair her image aggravated Lillian. The girl’s tenacious insistence on bringing him back threatened serious repercussions for Lillian’s own business.

“Bianca, there are plenty of other talented executives in this field—”

“No.”

Lillian plastered a false smile on her face and then focused on her own salad for a full ten seconds, allowing her annoyance to fester and flame as she stabbed a bit of lettuce, cut it three times and then brought a tiny leaf to her lips. By the time she swallowed, she had regained control of her irritation.

“And if he refuses to come out of retirement for you? Will you consider someone else then?”

“I
told
you,” Bianca insisted, “it has to be him. If not, I’m pulling our account.”

Lillian gritted her teeth as she tried to remain calm. “I’m not sure that would help your situation. Such rash action might be deemed flighty or uninformed—exactly the sort of perceptions you’re trying to shed.”

Bianca’s jaw clenched, and Lillian knew she had gone too far.

“Listen, Lillian, I like you because the way you built your business, all on your own, is something I admire. But I’m not as inexperienced as you and my board seem to think. I studied my family’s company for years, and I learned a lot from my father growing up before he died and the business passed to my uncle. And it was my uncle who kept me out of the Towers offices so that he could run things the way he wanted. I rebelled at that, tried to tarnish our family’s name out of hurt and anger. It was selfish and stupid. But it’s my turn now, and I’m tired of being treated like a child.”

She ripped her napkin off her lap and began balling it up.

“I want Dane Montgomery. I’ve read all about him—my father always spoke of him as brilliantly talented. He’s the one to help me re-establish my image and the identity of my family’s company. If I can’t have him...then you can’t have the Towers account.”

And with that, the girl stood and strode away from the table, leaving Lillian fuming and hoping that Ophelia was doing everything she could to convince Dane Montgomery to return.

* * *

T
HEY
ALL
HOVERED
around Keahi the morning after his accident—Pele kept scooping extra helpings of eggs onto his breakfast plate, Leilani refilled his coffee cup half a dozen times and even Ophelia continually asked if there was anything she could get him. Dane watched the entire scene with a mixture of amusement and shame, silently chastising himself every time he saw Keahi move his bandaged arm and flinch with discomfort.

Following breakfast, Keahi insisted on joining Dane outside so they could ascertain the damage to the pulper after yesterday’s accident. Dane was relieved when they determined the repairs would be minimal, and Keahi suggested they call Sam, who had a gift for fixing machinery, to take a look at it free of charge.

After putting in a call to Sam, who said he could be by later that morning, Dane hung around, reluctant to leave his friend again after what had occurred. The two returned to the office where Dane insisted on moving everything within easy reach for Keahi, from the stapler to the rolling file drawer. At last, his friend held up his uninjured arm.

“Boss, you do realize my arm was just cut, not amputated, don’t you?”

Dane felt a twinge of embarrassment. “I’m just trying to help you out.”

Keahi grunted. “I get it, brah, you feel bad. But I can’t do my job if you’re playing nursemaid.”

Dane frowned. “I wasn’t—”

“Shouldn’t you be busy showing our pretty guest around the island?”

Dane found he had to suppress a cringe at this. As much as he’d enjoyed his time with Ophelia Reid the day before, it didn’t make up for the fact that he hadn’t been here when he was needed. It was another reminder that he belonged on his plantation and not back in New York.

“I’m not leaving, Keahi. I don’t see the point in indulging a recruiter’s whims when my plan is to stay right here.”

Keahi rolled his eyes. “Brah, if she’s paying you $10,000 for the week, I don’t care if you sail to the moon with her. Just fulfill your end of the bargain.”

Dane clicked his tongue. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

Keahi met his gaze. “Yes. I need to get some work done, and if I wanted to be fussed over, I’d have invited my mother to visit.”

Dane couldn’t help grinning. “Actually, your father suggested I take Ophelia to Holualoa so they could meet her.”

Keahi threw his one good arm up in the air in a gesture of relief. “Perfect plan! Take her. Go.”

“But shouldn’t I—”

“Go.”

* * *

D
ANE
FOUND
O
PHELIA
on the lanai, curled up on one of the chairs and looking out over the garden. Her expression was troubled, her lovely features marred by sadness. He felt a fleeting regret for leaving her to her own devices all morning.