Gentle Persuasion (11 page)

“It’s obviously important to you.” Ophelia found her voice softening to a more intimate level. “I’d love to see it through your eyes.”

He studied her for a few seconds, and she forced herself to hold his gaze, wondering what he must be thinking. Was he wounded by her words? Flattered?

After another minute, he gathered the sightseeing brochures together and pushed them to the side of the desk. “Sure. But I have to warn you, you might find it a little dull. Island life is not as fast-paced as New York. Especially when it comes to coffee farming.”

He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes. “That’s okay,” she assured. “I want to see what you do here. Really.” And she meant it.

So they grabbed a bite to eat in the dining room where Leilani, Keahi and Pele were gathered for breakfast. After she inquired about his arm, Ophelia and Keahi found themselves in a conversation about his life growing up on a rural coffee farm and his relationship with his parents. He seemed to harbor no regrets about the dreams his family had lost—their farm and livelihood. The repayment of his father’s health was more than enough for what they had given up, he said. Ophelia marveled at this outlook and found a deeper appreciation for Keahi and the Inoas in the process.

As she and Keahi chatted, she overheard snippets of Leilani pleading with Dane to convince Pele to let her spend more time with Sam. She couldn’t catch everything that was being said, given her absorption in her own conversation, but she heard enough to recognize that Dane seemed to mediate between grandmother and granddaughter pretty well. Had that skill come from his time as an executive? Or was he a natural-born arbitrator?

As breakfast finished, Dane doled out instructions for the day—there were two reservations arriving at the inn the following week, so Pele would be in charge of preparing the rooms and stocking the kitchen with necessities. Leilani would assemble the welcome packets and assist her grandmother while Keahi reviewed past-due invoices and called their creditors to buy more time.

Keahi slid a glance toward Ophelia, as if hesitant to speak in front of her.

“Keahi?” Dane prompted.

“Um...yeah, boss. There are a couple bills that just won’t wait any longer. I can’t buy us any more extensions.”

“Do we have any revenue free to pay something on them?”

He hesitated again. “A bit, but I was saving that for payroll.” He swiped a glance around the table, at Leilani and Pele.

“I can wait to be paid,” Leilani spoke up.

Pele pursed her lips, saying nothing.

Dane sighed.

“What if we halve the payroll for now and catch up the rest in another week?”

Pele shook her head. “Pay Keahi and Leilani. I have everything I need right here.”

Ophelia was touched by this declaration from the gruff housekeeper. For all her bluster, Ophelia had the sense that Pele loved Dane and her job at the Okina Inn.

“It’s not fair to do that to you, Pele,” Dane said.

“Who needs fair?” Pele fired back. “Are
you
taking a paycheck?”

Dane said nothing.

“When was the last time you
did
get paid?”

Ophelia’s gaze swiveled in curiosity from Pele to Dane, who glanced in her direction and then quickly away. Perhaps she should excuse herself. She doubted he wanted her to hear these particulars of his business, but then again, her mother would want her to exploit this opportunity for all its worth.

“Keahi can tell us,” Pele reminded.

“Too long,” Keahi returned. “He hasn’t taken any pay in over two months.”

“And you haven’t taken any pay in three weeks. Plus, I don’t have a family to support,” Dane pointed out. “Like Pele said, everything I need is right here.”

The older woman nodded in approval. “Then I don’t take any pay, either.”

“What about the money for my stay?” Ophelia found herself speaking up and felt a twinge of uncertainty as four sets of eyes turned toward her.

“Your deposit was already spent,” Leilani softly pointed out.

“But there’s the $10,000 that comes with Dane’s agreement to show me around. I can call New York, see that the money is wired immediately instead of at the end of my stay.”

Keahi leaned his large frame back in the chair and ran his palm over his chin thoughtfully. “That would certainly buy some time with the creditors.”

“But not with Masters,” Dane reminded.

Ophelia felt a cloud of gloom settle over the table.

“See what you can do with what we have, Keahi. If you can’t make it work, then maybe Ophelia can have that money sent.”

“Sure thing, boss.”

Dane rose to his feet. “I’ll leave you all to it. Ophelia’s going to accompany me around the plantation today, so if you need anything, we’ll be in and out.”

They each rose to get on with their tasks, and Ophelia followed Dane as he led the way out the door.

* * *

H
OURS
LATER
, D
ANE
raised an arm to wipe at the sweat on his brow before checking the reading on the pH meter. Satisfied with the numbers, he glanced down at Ophelia, who sat on the ground, up to her elbows in compost and mud. She had been asking him questions all morning, mentioning different things she had learned from her tour with Leilani, and he found himself growing ever more expansive in his replies. He rambled on about planting, harvesting, processing and roasting, along with expounding on a description of bean flavor profiles that surely would have sent most women running for the coast. But Ophelia remained engaged in the conversation, interrupting occasionally to ask for clarification on some points. He found her interest intriguing, except that he couldn’t be certain whether she remained absorbed for her own sake or because it might benefit her assignment here.

It felt as though he had talked more in the past three hours than he had in the past three years, and Ophelia seemed to be listening to most of it. Even once the more physical work began—checking the plants for pests and fungus, hauling fertilizer and making sure the seedlings were receiving the proper drainage, she continued to respond to his descriptions of coffee farming and ask appropriate questions. He found himself looking her way more often than he should, studying the fall of blond tendrils across her perspiring forehead, the streaks of dirt staining her slender arms and the sparkle of her smile when she would look up and reply to something he’d said.

He didn’t think he had ever met a woman more beautiful, even covered in grime, as Ophelia Reid looked right now. Turning away, he attempted to refocus on the chores. Ophelia may have been pleasantly interested in the work they were doing, but her mood earlier in the day belied something else. Neither of them had discussed their kiss from the evening before, and he could not deny he had felt some disappointment at her return to the business at hand that morning. She had certainly responded to his kiss last night. But now...

“Tell me again—how many coffee cherries does it take to produce one pound of beans?”

His train of thought halted as she glanced his way, a smudge of soil streaking across her cheek so that he was highly tempted to lean across the coffee plant between them and wipe it away.

“About four thousand,” he answered.

“And that’s two trees?”

“Roughly.”

“That’s a lot of work for one pound of coffee. I don’t think I’ll ever take my morning cup for granted again.”

She paused.

“You know, there could be a lot of opportunities, back in New York, for you to get the word out about your coffee plantation.”

He felt himself tense, his fingers fumbling awkwardly with the pH monitor he was using to check the soil’s acidity levels. “And when would I find the time to do that, if I was working for Bianca Towers?”

He stole a glance from beneath lowered eyelids and watched Ophelia look up at him. “You’d still have a life of your own—time to pursue your hobbies...or date.”

She dropped her gaze immediately, and he wondered if she was hinting at something or if the word had just slipped out. After all, he had to remind himself, how much longer would Ophelia be in New York if he moved there? She had Paris in the offing. There would be no point in the two of them starting a relationship.

And even as the thought went through his brain, he found himself amazed that he considered Ophelia in that light. But after their kiss, he couldn’t seem to think of her any other way.

“What about you?” he asked. “Why not leave your mom’s company and move to Paris—or anywhere—on your own?”

She frowned. “I thought about it once or twice, in college. But this company is everything to my mother. It’s the thing that kept her moving after my father’s death. To leave would feel like...a betrayal. To her. To everything she worked for.”

He settled himself down on the ground beside her, still holding the pH monitor. “I understand that. It’s the same feeling I get when I think about leaving this place—a betrayal of the people who work for me. A betrayal of myself. I don’t quit easily.”

“But it wouldn’t be quitting,” she countered. “If anything, it would be a sacrifice to save your dreams here. The signing bonus you’ll receive from Towers Resorts would make a significant dent in your debts. It would buy you enough time to harvest and sell your crops.”

“Ophelia—”

“Listen, Dane. Please.” Her hand had come to rest on his, and every nerve ending in his fingers thrilled at the soft touch of her skin against his own. “I’m not going to pretend it wouldn’t be hard to leave the islands behind. This place is—” she looked around her before turning her eyes back to his “—charming. But what will you do if this plantation fails? What will happen to Keahi, Leilani, Pele? How will you have helped them, if you can’t get it back on its feet? Do you have any other recourse? Any other way to save this dream, than making this sacrifice?”

He stared at her, both resentful and grateful at the candor of her words. She didn’t flinch away from his gaze.

“I’m not sure I’m ready to go back,” he finally confessed.

“Don’t forget who you are,” she countered. “I think you’d relish the challenge of refining the Towers Resorts image. After all, you may have hated the corporate life, but you couldn’t have hated the work you did. Not all of it.”

“No,” he admitted. “The work wasn’t entirely the problem.”

“Then why not try a comeback?”

He looked at her earnest face, the curve of her cheek with the streak of dirt along it. Unable to resist any longer, he reached out and cupped her jaw in his hands, rubbing the pad of his thumb along her skin. Was it his imagination, or did she tilt her head into his hand?

“Would you stick around? If I came back?”

A measure of sadness entered her eyes.

“Never mind.” He removed his hand from her cheek. “You have your own dreams to pursue. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.” He dropped his head, unable to look at her anymore. “It’s just that, if I agreed, I think it would be easier...if you were there.”

She made a soft noise, deep in her throat, drawing his eyes back to hers. He wondered if, somewhere deep down, she wanted him to ask her to stay. For him.

But that was impossible. They had just met, and she had held her own dreams since she was a child. He could understand that, even admire it. And as he had said, he wouldn’t get in the way of it.

“Dane...” She still gripped his other hand, her fingers tightening further. “It isn’t failure to leave. It might just be a necessary sacrifice to save your dream.”

He thought of Mrs. Inoa’s words to him.
What will your sacrifice be?

“I’ll think about it and give you an answer by the end of the week.”

These words seemed to startle her. Perhaps she had thought he was too stubborn to give in. Or maybe she had doubted her own powers of persuasion. After all, no recruiter before this had gotten him to seriously consider an offer. Then again, no recruiter had come at a time when he was so desperate for a solution.

“I believe your mother’s even more calculating than I thought.”

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

“Because...of all the recruiters she could have sent...she chose you.”

And then, because he couldn’t see any reason not to, he leaned in and kissed her once more.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
HE
NEXT
MORNING
, Ophelia lay in her bed at the inn, staring at the ceiling and enjoying the morning breeze redolent with tropical scents, as it wafted through her window. Her mind was consumed with one single thought.

Dane Montgomery.

He hadn’t agreed to the Towers Resorts offer, but he had conceded to think on it. And then he had kissed her. Again.

Her stomach fizzed with delight, and she turned onto her side, drawing her legs up over her torso, as if to contain the giddiness rolling through her. She had tried telling herself that her happiness was born of the possible success in her assignment—the distinct satisfaction of completing the task her mother had given her.

But she knew that wasn’t true. No other recruitment, no matter how important, had ever made her feel this way. It had nothing to do with the contract and everything to do with how Dane had looked at her yesterday afternoon during their time working the plantation.

But she couldn’t get too caught up in viewing Dane in a romantic light. It simply wasn’t an option, given their situations. She should be focusing on the final push to get Dane to sign the contract and then setting her sights on Paris.

That’s what she
should
be doing. And yet, the butterflies in her stomach protested mightily and kept her from maintaining focus.

Throwing off the covers, she decided to shift her nervous energy into getting ready for the day. She showered and dressed and then did her makeup and hair with methodical, exaggerated care. She told herself it was an exercise in restraining her emotions, but deep down, she knew she also wanted to look her very best when she descended the stairway of the inn and entered the dining room.

Applying a final swipe of mascara to her lashes, she stood back and surveyed her appearance. She had opted for the most casual outfit in her wardrobe—a plain, turquoise, button-down shirt and khaki slacks. The aquatic-blue set off her newly tanned skin and blond hair to a flattering degree. She tested a few looks in the mirror before drawing a breath and heading for the door.

When she reached the dining room, she entered and found Dane’s eyes instantly on her. While the others were engaged in conversation, Dane sat silent, fingers wrapped around his coffee mug and gaze trained on the door. She watched him straighten with interest at her arrival, a smile tugging at his lips. She felt gratified by this reaction and responded with a grin of her own, feeling the same giddiness she had experienced upon waking this morning gallop through her midsection once more.

As she moved farther into the room, Keahi and Leilani paused to say hello before resuming the conversation. Pele stood to begin moving breakfast dishes her way, but Ophelia insisted she sit back down and allow her to serve herself. Reluctantly, the other woman agreed, but Ophelia noticed her gaze moved back and forth between Dane’s quiet smile and Ophelia several times.

“—luau at Masters’s tonight.”

Keahi’s mention of Dane’s rival caused Ophelia to shift her attention. “Luau?”

She noticed Dane’s smile falter.

“Masters is hosting a luau this evening,” Dane remarked. “We’re all invited.”

“All of us?”

“He named you specifically.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure how to react to that. After all, she doubted she had made the most favorable of impressions on Masters during their first meeting.

“It begins at five, if you’d like to attend.”

“You’re all going?” Ophelia asked as she sliced into a section of ham.

“Unfortunately.” Leilani’s voice held a tinge of annoyance. “Treat your enemies like your friends...”

“He’s not the enemy,” Dane softly chastised. “And it would be in bad form to snub our most influential neighbor.”

Leilani sighed. “But you know how he makes his money, Dane!”

Ophelia looked at Dane with renewed interest. “How does Masters make his money?”

Dane met her eyes quickly and then looked away.

“He imports
robusta
beans from other countries and then mixes them in with his own Kona ones. That way, he’s still selling Kona coffee, but it’s of an inferior quality—which he doesn’t advertise when he sells off his product at cut-rate prices to unsuspecting tourists.”

Ophelia’s jaw dropped. “But...that’s just
wrong.
”

“And illegal,” Keahi added. “But so far, no one’s been able to catch him at it.”

“Is he under investigation?” Ophelia pressed.

“He’s greased all the right wheels to avoid any formal inquiries.”

Ophelia felt a swell of sympathy for Dane. His financial issues went far deeper than she had realized. How could he compete with such underhanded business practices? It made the future of the Okina Inn and Plantation appear grim, indeed.

“Well, slimy as he is, I’d love to attend a luau,” Ophelia remarked, as much by way of conversation as to break the silence that had descended over the table. “It would be the perfect end to a wonderful week.”

This observation only served to entrench the silence deeper. Dane wouldn’t meet her eyes, and Pele frowned severely. Keahi sighed, and Leilani looked miserable. Was it because she had drawn attention to the fact her stay would be ending? Were they worried about what Dane’s response to her proposal might be?

She was just opening her mouth to comment further about the inn and how wonderful her week had been when the doorbell chimed from the front hall area. Ophelia noticed that the mood shifted to one of question as Dane looked to Leilani.

“Were we expecting guests today?”

“No, boss.” The young girl was shaking her head. “No one is arriving until Monday.”

Dane pushed back his chair as Leilani spoke and then headed for the door. The others remained for several minutes longer, the silence more portentous than Ophelia liked. She inclined her head toward the front hall area, curious. A few seconds later, she heard the low rumble of Dane’s voice, and her stomach, as if tuned to the sound, flipped with happiness.

But then she recognized the voice that followed, and everything inside her went flat.

It can’t be. Mother wouldn’t...

She tried to remain still and composed, tried to listen objectively to the conversation in the front hall. But when it became impossible to make out the words, she pushed back from the table, her breakfast abandoned, and moved toward the door.

She sensed the others perking up with interest behind her, but she didn’t pause to see if they followed. She made her way past the reception area and stepped toward the entryway, unable to see the new arrival past Dane’s height and broad shoulders. The conversation at the entrance paused, and a palpable silence hung in the air.

As she moved forward and around Dane, she felt her stomach drop, this time not with pleasure but disbelief.

Cole stood in the doorway.

* * *

D
ANE
DIDN
’
T
HAVE
to look at Ophelia to feel her stiffen beside him.

“Miss Reid, I was unaware your colleague would be joining you.” He turned his head in time to see her jerk with surprise. Was it his more formal use of her name? Or simply shock at seeing the man she had claimed to be her ex-boyfriend arrive on the doorstep?

He waited for her to turn her head, to meet his gaze, and when she didn’t, he felt a twinge of disappointment. Had this been a calculated move, this second recruiter’s arrival in Hawaii? Or was Ophelia as stunned as Dane himself felt?

“Cole, what are you doing here?”

Dane noted agitation in her voice but said nothing.

“Hello, Ophelia.”

Ophelia didn’t return the greeting.

“Come on, Fee, why should you get to have all the fun?” Cole asked. “I think this island is big enough for the two of us, don’t you? And besides, I wanted to meet the legendary Dane Montgomery myself.”

Dane ignored this comment as well as Cole’s ingratiating grin.

“How did you get here?” Ophelia finally spoke.

“The usual travel methods—by plane and then a taxi from the airport.”

“No, I mean...you don’t need to be here,” Ophelia stated, her words blunt.

Dane observed her distress and felt a passing tug of sympathy, but it quickly evaporated. “Perhaps I should give you two some time to confer,” he offered, turning to go.

“No, we don’t— I mean, I didn’t...”

He kept walking until he felt her hand grasping at his arm. He turned and met her pleading green eyes.

“I didn’t know he was coming, Dane. I swear that I didn’t.”

Dane looked from Cole’s self-assured expression to Ophelia’s desperate one. Then, slowly, he removed her fingers from his arm.

“I’ve got work to do. Feel free to use the lanai to discuss your strategies.” His lips twisted bitterly before he turned, brushed by his employees hovering on the perimeter of the scene and headed for his office before his disappointment could become evident in his eyes.

* * *

O
PHELIA
WAS
LIVID
, and she made that fact known to Cole as soon as they were seated on the lanai. Or rather, while Cole sat and Ophelia paced.

“How
dare
you,” she railed at him, “infringe on my assignment! This is
my
job, Cole!
Mine!
You have no business being here!”

Cole held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I couldn’t agree more but tell that to your mother. Lillian’s the one who sent me.”

Cole was probably the only one of Lillian’s employees who could get away with calling the CEO by her first name. Not even Ophelia had earned that privilege during her time at Reid Recruiting. But then again, Cole had always been her mother’s darling. Thinking back, it was probably part of why Ophelia and he had begun dating in the first place—both wished to curry favor with the boss.

Ophelia stilled at these words and turned to stare at him. “She...what?”

Cole rested his hands on the arms of his wicker chair and looked up. “She called me into her office yesterday and said I should take the first available flight out of JFK. What exactly are you doing down here that required me to make a twelve-hour flight on the spur of the moment?”

Ophelia clenched her jaw. “I was doing just fine, until you showed up.”

Cole appeared skeptical. “From the reception I just received from Dane Montgomery, that hardly seems to be the case.”

Ophelia threw up her hands in exasperation. “Well, of course he wasn’t happy to see you! He resents all recruiters, especially the ones who show up unannounced and ambush him! Did you do any research on the flight over? Can you possibly conceive of what we’re up against?”

She knew she sounded melodramatic, but she was making a valiant effort to mask her true emotions. She didn’t want Cole to see how she really felt about Dane. It would only complicate matters further.

Cole waved her concerns away. “I’m here now, Fee. You don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

His pet nickname for her made her peevish. “Don’t call me that. My name is
Ophelia.
”

He made a face. She suspected he had never much liked her given name. He had once made some remark about Ophelia being the weakest of the characters in Shakespeare’s play
Hamlet.
Ophelia had dared to point out that the title figure seemed to be the worst of the cast in terms of weakness. Cole never brought the subject up again, though he still persisted in calling her “Fee” when he felt like it.

“Why did she send you?” Ophelia tried to come back to the topic at hand. “What are you supposed to do?”

“What I always do—close the sale.”

Ophelia ground her teeth together, ran a hand over her forehead as she paced, and then turned to face Cole once more. “I’ve got this, Cole. Your coming here is only going to make my job harder.”

He made a face and rose to his feet. “Then take it up with your mother,
Ophelia.
Believe me, I wasn’t that keen on bailing you out after you just threw away what we’ve had for four years. But I’m here. Because I care about your mother, I care about the company and, whether you believe it or not, I care about
you.
If you really want to go to Paris as badly as you say, I suggest you make use of my talents. Because you’re not going to get there without them.”

He turned on his heel to stalk out and nearly collided with Pele, who was carrying in a tray with a carafe and a few scones. Cole bowed slightly and exited the room as Pele turned dark, inquisitive eyes on her.

Ophelia felt her knees giving way and moved to the seat Cole had just vacated, sinking into it with a weary sigh.

“You want me to throw him out?” Pele offered as she placed the tray on the table.

Ophelia gave a short snort of laughter. “No, don’t do that. He’s really not so bad. And I don’t think it’s his fault. He probably doesn’t want to be here any more than I want to have him here.”

“Should I show him to your room?”

Ophelia’s head snapped up at this. “
My
room? No. No, absolutely not. Cole and I will
not
be sharing a room. Do you think you could fix one up for him? I can pay for another reservation.”

Pele nodded shortly. She paused, studying Ophelia.

“I’m really sorry, Pele.” Ophelia felt obliged to explain. “I didn’t know he was coming.”

Pele gave another clipped nod before turning and leaving Ophelia alone on the lanai.

* * *

W
ANTING
SOME
PRIVACY
, Ophelia slipped out of the inn, walking toward the coffee orchard before pulling her cell phone from her pocket. As she’d predicted, there were no new voice mails or any emails referring to Cole’s arrival. She felt the prickling of annoyance all over again at how her mother and Cole had taken her by surprise.

She checked the time. It was early afternoon in New York, a perfect hour to catch her mother at her desk. Bringing up her speed dial, she quickly chose her mother’s number before she could talk herself out of it.