“Let’s take the trail along the harbor. It’s the most scenic. Luckily, most of the island is flat so you can really look at the sights.” The air slapped against his face as they pedaled along with water to his left bordered by low-lying shrubs and bursts of beach grass, and to the right, pitch pines and oak trees. He stayed near the tree line to give Gemma the best view of the red and blue boats that sailed carelessly on the Atlantic Ocean.
“I like your signs along the trail,” Gemma said. “It’s a good use of branding.” She looked like she was beginning to fall into an easy rhythm, glancing back at the trail for a few moments, then out at the water.
“It’s not Stargrass land, but I donated the signs in exchange for having the Stargrass logo on them. It takes nearly ten exposures for a person to remember an ad, and a logo is even more difficult to recall.” Now the wildlife preserve had its markers, trail riders could learn about the flora and fauna, and his resort would have more visibility.
“Smart move.” Her cheeks were pinkening under the rims of her tortoise shell sunglasses. Had she thought to apply sunscreen?
“I suppose there’s something to be said about a bit of mystery, too.” Zale took his eyes off the trail to look at Gemma, who was already studying him. Lost in the moment, their bikes swerved and nearly collided.
“Maybe in a person,” Gemma said once they’d regained their balance. “But in a product you’re trying to sell? Not so much.”
“The Stargrass is so much more than a product. It’s an essence, a community, a way of life.” He was canny with his marketing, but he’d have more resources if Dalton would agree to affiliate with him. “I did review your proposal,” he said. If he addressed this, got it out of the way, they could enjoy the morning together. “The offer is generous, but I can’t sell. The Stargrass was given to me by the man who was the closest thing I had to a father figure. It’s home now.”
“There’s nothing I can offer to sway your decision?” Her face fell, a glimpse of total defeat visible before she shuttered it away.
“No.” They pedaled silently for a few moments, before he continued. “There is another way our businesses could benefit from each other, though.”
“I’m listening,” she said, voice sincere.
“I’d be open to discussing an affiliation. Dalton could add Carris Retreats to its portfolio as a soft-brand. We’d maintain our own identity, giving Dalton guests what they’re really seeking—an authentic experience on the islands. Local food and culture. A unique concept for guests who are accustomed to your offerings and want something different. Dalton would receive a royalty fee on every booking, and in return, Carris would have access to your marketing platforms and loyalty programs.” He’d plant this seed of information, and send her a formal letter of intent when they returned to the hotel later in the evening. Gemma could consider his offer and discuss it further when he returned from his speaking engagement.
“We’re one of the only brands left that doesn’t have a portfolio of independent hotels. It’s an interesting concept, and one I’d like to discuss with the board.” After her initial disappointment, he sensed she was already busy weighing the benefits and liabilities of an affiliation, running numbers in her head, compiling a new plan A, B, and C. His chest swelled. This woman was an incredible business professional.
“My three resorts are located where real estate is limited. Tupelo Estate in Nantucket is right on the sound. Lady Slipper Lodge is nestled into the coast near Walker’s Point in Kennebunkport. All remaining land is protected by the wildlife commission. You won’t find a location to plant the Dalton flag right on the water. There’s a significant shortage of sites for new construction in these popular destinations.” He shrugged his shoulders. “And everyone and their mother rents their homes or apartments as a vacation rental now. Just one more slice of the leisure travel market you’re missing out on.”
“Those are all valid arguments.” Her head bobbed as she nodded. She was thinking about this. Hard.
“As a soft-brand, we wouldn’t influence your average daily rate.” Hotel chains often defined parameters outlining the maximum and minimum per night cost allowed. “Our rate ceiling is much higher during the busy tourist season, and visitors expect to pay a premium. The income Dalton will generate during the spring and summer will far exceed the expenditures incurred to give Carris access to your operating systems. I’ll share something more formal that you can send to the corporate office.” They rode in silence for a few minutes with the roll of waves and the cry of gulls to accompany them. “Now that business is out of the way, I want to know about you. Tell me something about yourself.” He shouldn’t want to know, he shouldn’t care, but she was magnetic, unforgettable. If he were a different man, he might’ve asked Gemma on a date.
The intimate understanding of where love eventually led was part blessing and part curse. Blessing because he’d never experience the sickening twist of betrayal or the hollowness of a broken heart again—he’d never allow himself to be vulnerable to another. And a curse, because while relationships ultimately ended, it was nice to feel as though you had a partner, someone to navigate the rigors of life with, if only for a short time.
“Well, my favorite color is red. I love mangy dogs that look a little weathered and grumpy, and my guilty pleasure is reading fantasy novels poolside with a bucket-sized glass of sangria—I can’t even remember the last time I did that.” She smiled as he threw his head back and laughed. “And you?” she asked. He shot her an incredulous stare, surprised that she answered so quickly and honestly. When he’d tucked her hair behind her ear the night before, she ran away from him. What had changed?
“Green for the color, and each time I go to the island animal shelter I entertain taking every mutt back to the resort with me because Mila is desperate for one. Guilty pleasure…drinking my morning coffee outside on the balcony, reading with Mila, and eating too many helpings of a homecooked meal at my mother’s cottage.”
“That’s sweet. Does she live close by?” Gemma turned her head to look at the marina in the distance.
“Yes, just a few miles from the resort, right on the water. One night a week, she picks Mila up at school for dinner and a sewing lesson—they like to make dolls together. She helps in so many ways, like tomorrow for instance. She’ll watch Mila while I’m on my business trip.”
“How long will you be gone?” Was that disappointment in her voice, or did he imagine it?
“It’s just an overnight. It’s the Independent Hotelier Association’s annual conference. I was asked to be one of the keynote speakers. It’s a quick engagement—I return Saturday evening. Do you still plan to leave on Sunday?” When he imagined her packing her things, a hollowness settled in the pit of his stomach.
“Eager to see the last of me?” Gemma shot him a questioning look.
Was he? If he never kissed her, touched her, the passed opportunity might haunt him for the rest of his days. When she was near, he was barraged with thoughts. Like the surge of pleasure he’d had moments before when Gemma opened up to him, letting him see a small sliver of the woman beneath the carefully curated façade.
“No, actually.” His statement was met with silence, but the charged glance she threw his way filled their air with a sudden onslaught of tension. It was safer, wiser for them to both drop the conversation.
The trees and shrubbery thinned and were replaced by elegant estates and luxury vacation rentals. “Welcome to Edgartown,” he said. A few more blocks and they’d be in the heart of the downtown area with its quaint shops, an ice cream parlor, and several cafés featuring al fresco dining.
“I’ve read so much about this town.” She was staring up at an 1830s antique home. “I can picture the wives of prominent captains looking out those very windows at the ocean, waiting for their husbands to sail into port.” She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head, and her eyes filled with wonder.
His throat constricted, momentarily blocking his words. �
�The first town on the Vineyard. The economic development committee has done a beautiful job preserving it from an old whaling port to the ultimate tourist destination.”
After a few blocks, they reached the center of town. Shop-lined sidewalks were paved in red brick. Antique store signs hung over baskets of flowers, and cool air pumped out from doors left ajar. The sweet scent of baked goods floated in the air.
“Wow, this is so charming.” She slowed her bike to a halt when they reached the side walk. “Do we have time to window shop for a few minutes?”
“It wouldn’t be a true visit to Edgartown without some window shopping.” He shot her a smile and got off the bike. Together, they walked over to the racks at the side of an outdoor rental store and secured the bikes.
“Will they mind if we leave them here?” Gemma asked. Her eyes wandered up and down the quaint streets.
“No, the owner is a friend. It’s a tight-knit community. Nearly every business belongs to the Chamber of Commerce, and we help each other out the best we can. Stargrass guests can leave their equipment here while they shop, and I leave a few bikes here in case a problem arises with one on the trail. In exchange, Amelia uses our private beach for kayaking lessons.” Their arrangement worked well. “This is a place I’m proud to call home. City life isn’t for me. I do enjoy taking Mila and my mother to the occasional Broadway show, but it’s only for a short time before I want the peace of island.”
“I’ve never had much time in a small community, but I can see the appeal. It’s easy to get lost amongst big corporations if you’re a small business. It’s nice to have everyone on an even playing field.” Gemma slid her fingers through a glossy, cherry red wristlet and they began to stroll down the brick-paved streets.
“Have you always lived in New York?” he asked as they passed under a candy-striped awning.
“Not always New York, but always a metropolitan area. When I was on break from prep school, I traveled with my grandparents to various flagship hotels. Oh, let’s go in here.” Gemma gasped and stared in the window at a glass display of handmade ceramics, paintings, and other treasures. There was a lightness in his chest as he watched her circle around the store, appreciating each piece and reading about the local artist. He waved across the store at the owner who was working the register and exchanged a smile. If Gemma’s interest was any indication of her intentions to purchase, he’d be in for a good sale.
“It must have been hard not to set down roots, somewhere.” He admired the blue-and-turquoise sea glass windchime made by the same artist who created the made-to-order chandeliers in his lobby, as Gemma inspected a pair of gold seashell earrings.
“I suppose it was, looking back,” she murmured. “But it didn’t seem that way at the time. Maybe a bit lonely, but always filled with new adventures.” Something sad and longing passed over her face, but it was gone in an instant.
“Those would be lovely on you,” he said, changing the subject. It wasn’t his intention to dig into her past, despite the urge to learn more about her. An urge he shouldn’t give in to.
“I was actually thinking of them for my mother. She lives in a Boston loft apartment, and I don’t get to see her as often as I should. My parents have their own lives now. After they got divorced, they both started fresh in separate cities.”
By the time they made it to the cash register, Gemma had gathered a tower of merchandise. A seascape painting for her grandmother, a painted cigar box for her grandfather, and a few whimsical seahorse sculptures for some of her team members.
Aaron Black grinned widely at her selection. “I’m glad you enjoyed the store.”
“Oh, I did. Everything is wonderful. There’s a lot of talent on the Cape and the Islands.” She took out her wallet, paused. “That’s incredible,” she said glancing at a nearby display of glass-blown paperweights. Gemma lifted one gently and cupped it between two hands. “It’s like holding the entire galaxy.”
Excitement shimmered in the depths of her eyes as she looked longingly at the piece of art held in her hands. His heart thudded as he watched fascination and joy splay across her delicate features. The collar of his polo shirt pressed too tightly against his neck, but he refused to give into the urge to yank another button open. His physical reaction to Gemma was unprecedented, and yes, slightly embarrassing. He was acting more like a teenager abuzz with raging hormones than a business professional.
“That’s actually really close to the artist’s vision. It’s called Galactic,” Aaron said, looking pleased by her compliment. Zale knew Aaron was the artist and that he rarely advertised that fact. The orb was stunning, with thousands of shimmering star-like specks swirling through a dark blue base.
She hesitated, rotating it easily in her hands. After a few seconds, she placed it back on the display. “It’s so beautiful. If only I had a practical use for it.” Gemma returned to the counter to complete her transaction. She’d purchased all manner of whimsical, impractical gifts for others, and for some reason, it didn’t sit well that she wouldn’t buy something that clearly delighted her.
He hadn’t noticed before, but Gemma always appeared practical and efficient. Her clothes were sharp with clean lines and an occasional bold pop of color, but otherwise everything was understated.
“I’ll have these delivered to the resort this afternoon, so you can enjoy the rest of your time in Edgartown without being bogged down by bags.” Aaron winked.
They said their goodbyes and walked to the glass door. As Zale pushed it open for Gemma, he paused then shot a look back at Aaron along with a subtle signal. Aaron gave him a thumbs-up and turned to the back of the counter for bubble wrap.
They walked down the brick-paved sidewalk until they reached The Doll’s Corner, Mila’s favorite store.
“Mila really wanted to come today. I’ll pick Bernadette up a new dress while we’re here.” Zale opened the door and held it for Gemma. The store was a little girl’s sugarplum dream. The ceiling was draped with pink tulle bunting, accentuating a crystal-laden chandelier that cast hints of iridescent color along the walls and shelves. Dolls from every designer were displayed in a floor-to-ceiling case at the back of the store, clothes lined the walls, and accessories for tea parties, camping, and the like were set up in every corner.
“Incredible,” Gemma whispered. “Bernadette will be the best dressed doll at the resort.”
Zale smiled. “No matter how many dolls Mila has, Bernadette is her favorite. My mother stitches gorgeous cloth dolls and she created that one when Mila was only a few months old.”
“Oh, how about this?” Gemma ran her fingers over the blush velvet skirt of a regal-looking gown with a lace train and puffed sleeves.
“I think that’s just Bernadette’s style,” he murmured, paying more attention to how soft her hands looked against the material than the choice of dress. Hands that had fit perfectly inside of his when he’d helped her up from the picnic blanket last night.
“And maybe something more modern, too. You know, in case she has to go to a conference or meeting.” She paused over a gray tweed dress with a black patent leather belt. Her face was completely at ease, with a smile highlighting the delicate rise of her cheek bones. He was at risk of buying out the entire shop at Gemma’s whim, just to keep that joyful grin on her face.
“Why not?” He reached out to take the dress hanger at the exact time as Gemma. Their hands connected, and a deep pull resonated at the base of his stomach. Neither moved, and he was lost in the rich depths of her eyes. The oddest sensation flooded him. A rush of warmth and fingers that ached to fully capture her hand in his. Gemma let go of the hanger first and put her hand to the base of her throat. What would it feel like to stroke the delicate skin there? To taste it?
Gemma clasped her hands together, then released them, before turning toward a nearby display. She wasn’t immune to him, either. Breath momentarily bottled up in his chest. Did he dare believe that Gemma was attracted to him as a man and not just a means to a signe
d contract? He studied her as she knelt down to view a little school setup. He shouldn’t be so delighted that she was attracted to him, as he had no intention pursuing their relationship beyond business, but he was all the same.
“How sweet. A mini library.”
“Remind me never to bring you and Mila in here together.” He chuckled, but the sound was deep and gritty. “You’d be a deadly combination. My credit card wouldn’t survive it.”
He paid for the dresses as Gemma mulled over a display of doll pets from poodles to ponies with jewel-toned saddles.
They continued going shop to shop, ducking in half a dozen more before they landed at the best spot on the island.
“You haven’t truly experienced Martha’s Vineyard until you’ve had a lobster roll and an ice cream from Cones and Cups.” His mother had always brought him here on pay weeks, and now he and Mila delivered her favorite flavor, Mocha Chip, every Sunday. It was still early in the day, so there were vacant tables outside the shop. They passed under a neon pink flag with a stitched cone, and a cheerful bell chimed as they entered the shop. The glass display boasted dozens of homemade flavors and the air was infused with the scent of buttery waffle cones. When their order was ready—two lobster rolls, a cup of peanut butter swirl for her and double cookie dough for him—they chose a shaded spot to sit outside. On her first bite of the lobster, Gemma sighed and his stomach instinctively tightened and heated.
“Good?” He smiled and struggled to keep his voice light, when his mind wandered to soft candle light and bare skin.
“So, so good.” A hint of playfulness twinkled in the depths of her eyes, ones that sent him into a blissful daze. “I would’ve given the bike tour an A plus already, but this sealed it.”
“The company has made this a particularly memorable trip for me, too,” he said gauging her expression. A blush swept over her cheeks, already pinkened by the heat and sun. What did he hope to gain from a comment like that? In just a few days, she’d pack her things and return to Manhattan. He didn’t only have his heart to guard, but Mila’s too.
SEDUCTION AT THE STARGRASS Page 6