Desire and the Deep Blue Sea

by Olivia Dade

  Desire and the Deep Blue Sea

  Olivia Dade

  Copyright © 2019 by Olivia Dade

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  About Desire and the Deep Blue Sea

  They’re pretending. Until they aren’t.

  * * *

  Thomas McKinney has never wanted a woman the way he wants Callie Adesso. Since she started working alongside him at the Colonial Marysburg Research Library, he’s spent his desk shifts fumbling pencils, tripping over his own feet, and struggling to remember both the Dewey Decimal System and the existence of her inconvenient boyfriend. Now, however, Callie is suddenly single—and in need of a last-minute faux-boyfriend for an episode of HATV’s Island Match. Thomas is more than happy to play the part…and in the process, convince Callie that a week together isn’t nearly long enough.

  * * *

  Callie has never found a man as irritating as she finds Thomas. He may be brilliant, kind, and frustratingly handsome, but the absent-minded librarian also makes every workday an anxiety-inducing exercise in stress. Even seven days in paradise by his side won’t change her opinion of him. Really. No matter how attentive he is. And gentle. And sexy.

  * * *

  One plane ride later, the two of them are spending long, hot days under the sun and on display, pretending to be in love for a television show. This may be a vacation, but it’s also an act—as well as Thomas’s last chance to persuade the woman of his dreams to include him in hers. And soon, the island heat isn’t the only thing steaming up HATV’s cameras…

  Praise for Olivia Dade

  With richly drawn characters you’ll love to root for, Olivia Dade’s books are a gem of the genre—full of humor, heart, and heat.

  Kate Clayborn

  Desire and the Deep Blue Sea was a delight of a novella. I gobbled it up in one bite and have no regrets. The hero is a swoon-worthy, bumbling academic, all cautious restraint and patient devotion. The heroine is an anxious badass (yes, those qualities can and usually do coexist), not to mention incredibly relatable. This book is pure catnip. Enjoy.

  Talia Hibbert

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

  Also by Olivia Dade

  Preview of Tiny House, Big Love

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  About Olivia

  Acknowledgments

  For everyone who—like me—worries. Like, all the time. May you find love you never have to question or doubt.

  One

  Callie stared down at her dumbphone with even more loathing than usual.

  It couldn’t connect to the internet, of course, but that wasn’t why she hated it. God knew, she didn’t need constant reminders via e-mail and social media notifications of everything she should worry about, not when some days she was already worried from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she made herself quit reading and turn off her bedside light. The cell’s limited functionality was a feature, not a bug.

  No, she hated her phone because she hated making calls and sending texts. Period.

  And above all else, she hated it because she didn’t want to make this particular call.

  Just last month, she’d been given the numbers for Irene and Cowan, her intern contacts at Home and Away Television. Irene was kind of scary, to be honest. Cowan, though, had always seemed kind and reasonable, a model representative of America’s most popular cable channel devoted to all matters home- and travel-related.

  He’d also proven much less likely than Irene to sigh loudly whenever Callie took too long to respond to questions.

  She needed patience and understanding right now, so she was calling Cowan. Maybe he could figure a way out of this mess for her, a path that would allow her to film her episode of HATV’s Island Match without a boyfriend.

  Even though that would violate the entire premise of the show.

  Dammit. She didn’t want to tap his name on her contacts list. But the breakroom door was closed, she was alone, and she couldn’t delay any longer.

  When he answered his cell, she used her Professional Librarian Voice. Tried to exude calm and competence and confidence in every syllable, despite her anxiety.

  “Cowan? This is Callie Adesso. I think we may have a slight problem.” She put the phone on speaker and laid it on the table in front of her, so she didn’t have to hold it up with her trembling hand. “I wanted to let you know ASAP.”

  “Okay.” His deep voice sounded cautious. “What’s wrong?”

  Before Callie could answer, she heard a distinctive and aggrieved female voice over the line. “Oh, Jesus, what now?”

  Irene. Lord help them all.

  “For God’s sake, woman, you can’t just snatch my—” Cowan made a sort of growly noise, and Callie could decipher the faint sounds of a scuffle. “My apologies, Callie. Hold on just a moment, please.”

  Everything went silent, as Callie blinked at her phone in befuddlement.

  “We’re back.” Cowan sounded breathless. “And just so you know, you’re on speaker phone so both Irene and I can hear what’s going on. We’re here to help. Without any complaint.”

  Callie had a feeling that last bit wasn’t directed at her.

  A glance at the wall confirmed the sad truth. After dithering for so long, she only had ten minutes left of her break. She needed to get back on the desk with Thomas, much as she wished she didn’t. There was no time to prevaricate or stall further.

  “Andre and I broke up this morning,” she told them. “He won’t be able to film our episode of Island Match next week.”

  She could have sworn she heard Irene mutter I told you so.

  “Callie…” Cowan’s tone softened even further. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  What would be the point of pretending? “Please don’t worry. I’m not heartbroken.”

  Not about that, anyway.

  Over the last couple of months, a relationship that had seemed promising if unspectacular had devolved into mutual dissatisfaction. Andre had stopped even pretending to listen to her, his bored gaze going unfocused whenever she tried to talk to him about her day or her worries or anything other than their dinner plans. And on the rare occasions he did pay attention to her, he’d begun responding to her concerns with increasing impatience. Telling her they were stupid and unfounded, and she just needed to get over them.

  As if it were that easy. As if she hadn’t already tried telling herself that thousands of times.

  In return for his impatience, she’d begun responding to his amorous overtures with indifference. So she’d spent the last several weeks in a sexless, tension-filled relationship with a boyfriend whom she barely saw.

  She should have ended things last month, probably. But starting a conversation about how and why their relationship had gone bad was way beyond her capabilities, as was a conversation about ending that relationship. If Andre hadn’t broached the topic himself, she had no idea when it would have happened.

  For someone like her, that kind of awkwardness and conflict could cause hives, and she wasn’t inviting more Benadryl into her life.

  So she’d stayed with Andre to avoid confrontation. Even more than that, though, she’d stayed with him for Island Match. For the beach.

 
; Not Virginia Beach. Not even Myrtle Beach or Nags Head. After one too many jellyfish stings, she shied away from any body of water where she couldn’t see her feet below the surface.

  No, she needed clear Caribbean water. Sun-warmed sand beneath her soles. Lapping waves, their soothing rhythm carrying away her thoughts and leaving her brain in blissful peace.

  And now she wasn’t going to get any of it.

  She blinked away the wetness blurring her vision.

  “I’m glad you’re not upset.” Cowan sounded relieved not to have to comfort a grieving near-stranger over the phone. “Don’t worry about the show. We’ll take care of cancelling all the travel arrangements, including—”

  His words failed to register as she swallowed a sob.

  She’d considered the trip her reward. Not for earning her MLS and landing a good job at the Colonial Marysburg Research Library, or at least not entirely. Instead, for waging an endless war with her doubts and her frustrated loneliness at work. For the way she kept putting one foot in front of another and answering calls on the desk and helping patrons and pretending to be okay even when she wasn’t, and the way she kept doing all of that until she was okay again.

  In pursuit of that trip, she’d overcome her reluctance to be on TV. She’d convinced a resistant Andre to fill out the Island Match application. She’d filmed an interview alongside him. She’d talked on the phone countless time to Irene and Cowan, even when her library shifts had left her weary of people and conversation. She’d braced herself for limited cable-television fame and notoriety. She’d accepted the presence of new worries and uncertainty as the trip grew near.

  Because she wanted that week on the beach. Needed it.

  But she couldn’t afford the trip on her own, not with her MLS-depleted savings, and she refused to ask for charity from her better paid and more successful family members.

  So if she didn’t speak now, she wouldn’t go to a gorgeous Caribbean beach, not for months or years to come, and she’d never know what might have been. She’d always wonder whether she could have done something, said something, advocated for herself and gotten what she wanted.

  God, speaking up was so hard.

  Still, she was going to do it.

  Maybe she could go on the trip by herself. Maybe she could substitute a friend or family member for Andre, and the show could proceed as normal. But she wouldn’t know unless she asked.

  “Cowan?” The word was thin and shaky. She could no longer summon Professional Librarian Voice. Instead, all she could muster was a frayed thread of sound.

  Still, Cowan stopped talking immediately. “Yes?”

  She squeezed her eyes closed and tried to breathe, but her brief, bright burst of conviction was already fading, even as a familiar fiery prickle spread across her chest.

  Literally every episode of Island Match involved a romantic couple. No exceptions. Why would she think they’d alter the entire premise of the show just for her?

  If she kept bothering them, Cowan and Irene were going to hate her, if they didn’t already, for delaying the inevitable. For asking questions and causing them more effort and trouble instead of simply disappearing into the ether.

  Besides, no one owed her a beach vacation. Someone else deserved this opportunity, and Cowan and Irene deserved to get off the phone so they could deal with the aftermath of Callie’s problems.

  She needed to keep her mouth shut. Avoid confrontation. Keep forcing a smile and wait until the pretense of being fine became reality.

  Yes, speaking up was so hard.

  Too hard for someone like her.

  “I’m sorry,” Callie whispered.

  Cowan’s voice was gentle. “It’s okay.” After a moment, he spoke again. “Like I said, you have nothing to worry about. We’ll take care of all the cancellations on our end. Do you have any other questions?”

  No. Everything seemed clear. Terrible, yes, but clear.

  “I—” Callie gulped back another sob. “I don’t—”

  At that moment, when her personal history would have predicted that she would acquiesce to the inevitable, choke out a goodbye to Cowan and Irene, and never bother HATV again, a dark head of curls crowning a concerned face appeared through the little window in the breakroom door.

  Thomas.

  So tall. So handsome. So smart. So kind.

  Such a pain in the ass.

  He must be stooping, because otherwise she’d only see his chest in that square of glass.

  His dark brows had furrowed above those ocean-blue eyes, and he made some sort of weird chin-jerk at her. Oddly enough, she could translate that gesture.

  He’d heard something that worried him, even through the door. Which seemed impossible, given both the ambient noise in the library and the single-minded, damnable focus he normally displayed on the desk.

  However improbably, though, he’d detected something amiss. And now he wanted to know if she needed help. As if he, the architect of her current despair, the main reason she needed a freaking beach vacation to begin with, could solve her problems.

  She sniffed back more tears and waved him away.

  When he didn’t budge, she waved him away again.

  At that, he pressed his lips together, horizontal lines scored across his high forehead, and slowly, reluctantly, left the window.

  She stared after him for a moment.

  Single. Thomas was single. Charming in his own way. Exceedingly telegenic, she’d guess.

  And she’d seen his upcoming schedule. As soon as the spreadsheet came out every month, she immediately compared her shifts to his. Out of morbid curiosity, of course, and also to confirm once again just how thoroughly she was fucked.

  Their schedules were always in sync. Always. No matter how fervently she wished they weren’t, or how late she entered her schedule requests. Somehow, even if she waited until the very last hour, his requests still came in after hers, and whatever he put would mean the two of them were on the desk at the same time.

  It was inevitable. Unavoidable. Like choosing the slowest checkout lane at the grocery store.

  This month was no different. They were working together almost every shift. And for some bizarre reason, he’d even taken vacation next week, the same week as her.

  Maybe it was all a huge coincidence. Or maybe he knew her work ethic would allow him to function as he preferred on the desk—i.e., at the pace of a molasses-coated sloth—and he was gaming the system.

  The latter possibility had caused her no small amount of rage over the past few months.

  But before then, back when she’d first started at the library, she’d searched for his lean, handsome face in the breakroom and sighed happily when she’d found it. She’d arrived early at work to talk with him about whatever she was reading that day. She’d showed him pictures of her nieces and nephews, and he’d smiled down at the images with such gentleness she’d nearly gone liquid.

  She didn’t want to remember. It hurt to remember. But she couldn’t seem to help herself.

  And at that moment, something in her brain shorted out.

  She cleared her throat. When she opened her mouth again, Professional Librarian Voice rang out, loud as her heartbeat and clear as the Caribbean.

  “I do have another question, Cowan.” Inexplicably, her mouth had said that. Her voice. “What would you say if I told you I had a new boyfriend?”

  As soon as the last word emerged from her mouth, her face twisted into an instinctive wince, her stomach began to roil, and her skin might as well have burst into flame.

  Oh, Jesus. What had she done?

  She never spoke without thinking. Ever. So why had she done it now? To representatives of a cable television network, of all people? The two of them were in the entertainment industry, for God’s sake. Savvier and way more sophisticated than a woman like her.

  They had to know she was lying. But they weren’t saying anything.

  If they remained quiet much longer, Callie was going to throw
up.

  Confronted with such a brazen falsehood, maybe they’d lost the power of speech. Maybe they’d muted the phone or were communicating via carrier pigeon or semaphore flags about how much they hated her. Maybe they were preparing to hang up on her. She didn’t know, and the uncertainty was killing her.

  Finally, Irene broke the silence.

  “My, my, my. Callie Adesso, total dark horse.” For the first time in Callie’s memory, the other woman sounded highly entertained. “Didn’t you say you broke up with your ex earlier this morning?”

  “Yes.” Callie paused. “It was a long time coming.”

  “I’ll bet,” Irene said.

  “But just to be clear,” Callie rushed to add, “Thomas and I didn’t get involved until after I was free.”

  She was already a liar. No need to make herself sound like a cheater too.

  The other woman snorted. “You’re telling me you didn’t stray while you were with Andre, but you did find a new guy before lunchtime on the same day you became single? Is that right?”

  Lying wasn’t as easy or fun as she’d been led to believe.

  “Umm…” Callie bit her lip. “Yes. That’s right.”

  A gleeful laugh crackled through the cell’s speaker. “I don’t know whether to check your pants for flames or congratulate you for finally kicking that asshole to the curb.”

  At that, Callie’s eyes widened. “You thought Andre was an assh—”

  Cowan didn’t let her finish. “I’m sorry, Callie. The timing of your relationships is none of our business. Also, HATV and its employees would never call one of our applicants an asshole. Ever. Not under any circumstances. Please excuse us for a moment.”