by S. K Munt
‘After all, it’s my life he’s decided to spare. For now.’
Tristan stiffened. The moment had been close to perfect. So of course, Lincoln had to show up and mess it up for him!
‘Do you mind?’ He snapped, shifting, putting himself slightly in front of the princess. ‘This is probably the fourth minute I’ve had alone with her in two weeks, Link. A little privacy would be nice!’ He glanced over at Saraya. ‘And is that an oar in your hand?’
‘The boat stalled about two hundred meters out.’ Saraya’s voice was thickened around her vowels. She held the paddle above her head. ‘I’m too drunk to fix it right, so we row, row rowed the boat...gently to the drama…’
Lux giggled. ‘Not so terribly merrily!’ Her accent was much thicker now. ‘Cos Link’s about to scream…’
Tristan had a hard time keeping a straight face at their singsongy commentary. And the knowledge that it had to have been Link who’d stalled the boat. Some ocean warrior! The guy couldn’t handle a ninety-five HP! How was he going to tame a megawatt woman?
‘Link…’ Ivyanne didn’t sound amused at all. ‘You’re not due back for hours!’
Lincoln cocked his head. ‘Worst excuse ever, Ivyanne.’
Ivyanne frowned. ‘What am I excusing?’ She glanced over at the women. ‘When did you…?’
‘Just in time to hear about your urge to bow down to sir Tristan’s crotch-you know-because he’s so quick-witted, at my expense!’
Ivyanne’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, god…’
‘My sentiments exactly!’ Lincoln threw something down on the sand. ‘Glad my humiliation makes for such hot foreplay for you two. I can just imagine how this little scene is going to stoke your fire, so let me get out of your hair so he can collect his IOU!’
‘Hey!’ Tristan snapped, seeing Ivyanne rush forward and sweep up Lincoln’s discarded offering from the sand. ‘Dial down the outrage, okay? If you’re shocked to hear her admit that she still wants me, then you’ve been living in denial and that’s not our problem.’
Ivyanne’s gasp made him turn his head.
‘Oh..’ She breathed, staring down into her arms. ‘Link...did you make this?’
Tristan narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to check out whatever had her melting. To his surprise, he realized that it was a bouquet. But instead of the typical floral offering, it was forged from slender sticks of driftwood, wrapped tightly with dried old netting, the ends decorated with various ocean-themed objects. Shells, cuttlefish, and seaweed arranged artfully to resemble blooms. It was disarmingly creative. Thoughtful, and unique. He swallowed, his scalp prickling. Damn-Lincoln was clever.
‘He did!’ Lux announced, staggering to the shore, towing the boat behind her. ‘He’s been behind the bar with a hot glue gun for like, two hours, making that.’ She waved her arm behind her towards the boat. ‘Got a picnic in there too. Was gonna treat ya real nice, Ivyanne.’
Tristan’s admiration turned to poison. He looked at Lincoln. ‘You were going to take her out on a date?’ He demanded. ‘The night I leave? Just flagrantly breaking the rules the second my back is turned?’ He shook his head. ‘I was right to be paranoid, pal. You’re slicker than you’ve let on!’
‘Screw you.’ Lincoln snarled. ‘Like you haven’t been known to bend the rules.’
Tristan looked to Ivyanne for back-up, but she was oblivious to them all. Her fingertips were curled, tentatively touching the sand-encrusted gift, her eyes shining with moved tears.
‘It’s beautiful.’ She looked up at Lincoln. ‘Thank you. This is the most thoughtful gift anyone’s ever given me.’
Tristan thought he was going to be sick. He watched Lincoln’s face for his reaction. For a brief moment, the other man’s expression softened. But then he must have felt Tristan’s gaze on him because his eyes locked on his, blazing black. His face tightened again and he took a step back, tearing his button-up shirt over his head and tossing it at Tristan.
‘And you just offended me more than anyone’s ever offended me.’ Lincoln snapped, his hands moving to the top button of his jeans, beginning to work the fly. ‘So eat the picnic yourself, princess. Or share it with Tristan. Can’t have you hard-at-work on your knees with an empty stomach once you stop laughing over this, can we?’
‘Lincoln!’ Ivyanne got to her feet and took a faltering step after him. But words must have failed her, because she stopped, the bouquet dropping to hang limply at her side as she watched Lincoln run to the water, sending up a giant splash once he’d clumsily dived under.
‘Whoa.’ Saraya tossed her oar into the boat with a clatter of metal against plastic. ‘What’s he going to do with his jeans?’
‘Keep them on for a bit longer than he thought….’ Tristan drawled. He looked at Ivyanne, tensing at her visible distress as she watched his rival’s wake disperse. ‘Would you have gone with him Ivyanne?’
Ivyanne looked down at the bouquet of not-flowers in her hand and whispered: ‘Yes.’
Exhaustion claimed Tristan. ‘Thanks for your honesty. I know it’s the least you can do for me right now. And on that note-’ he reached over, patted the back of her neck. ‘I’m out of here.’
He wanted Ivyanne to turn to him, to offer an apologetic smile, or at least acknowledge that he was as present to her now, as he had been before Lincoln’s interruption.
But the princess continued to stare down at her feet, nodding gently. With her wild fountain of curls tamed into braids for once, there was no concealing the look of loss on her beautiful face as she hugged the artificial ocean bouquet to her chest.
5.
‘Come on boss…’ Sherri smacked Lincoln lightly on the ass as she passed him by on Thursday morning. ‘If you’re going to mope all day, you might as well tell me exactly what happened.’
Lincoln shook his head, pressing his lips together. He was curled over the bar, his chin resting in his hands, blankly staring out at the sea of blue and red-clothed breakfast guests who seemed so happy and carefree that he wanted to punch them. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Hadn’t been able to shake the image of Ivyanne tugging Tristan by the tie in that predatory way that had made everything poisonous inside him sizzle.
God. I’m an idiot. He buried his face into his hands, rubbing his eyes. I thought the way she looked at me was hot, but that was something else! ‘It’s too horrific to recount. Let’s just say that I need a drink, a nap, and-’
‘I can guess the rest.’ There was mirth in Sherri’s tone. ‘Where’s that plus sized beauty who was lurking about yesterday? I’m sure she’ll offer her services!’
Lincoln turned to Sherri, smiling sadly. He appreciated her trying to cheer him up, but it wasn’t going to work. He was too pissed off. ‘I’m pretty sure it won’t work for a while now, even if she did!’ He screwed up his face. ‘Its been traumatized.’
Sherri winked at him. ‘You’d be surprised what a gentle kiss better could fix, Mr Grey.’
Lincoln felt like someone had run a current from the power outlet and straight down his spine. He straightened, lifting his eyebrows, caught off guard. Her tone had been teasing, light-but that look in her eye...that was something else! ‘Come again?’
Sherri shrugged, adjusting the Australian flag bandana wrapped around her pin curls. She’d gone to a lot of effort to look patriotic, and the bold colors suited her, contrasting against her creamy skin. ‘Just sayin...maybe you shouldn’t put both your eggs in this one basket-especially while someone else is tugging on the other side of it.’
Lincoln frowned slightly. ‘She’s more than just a basket, Sherri. She’s….’
‘Sorry.’ A low voice said. ‘She’s really, really sorry.’
Lincoln’s shoulders tensed. He turned to see Ivyanne standing on the other side of the bar, her green eyes shifting from him to Sherri nervously. Her hair was still up, though damp and fuzzier than the day before, telling him she’d swum from Bracken, and she wore a red, one shouldered tank top that hugged her
as wholly as the white number she’d had on when he’d last seen her. It was paired with short denim cut-offs again. Red, and almost blue. White frangipanis were tucked into her braids near her crown, and low-cut white sand shoes glowed with that new-shoe-against-tan gleam, making her look sporty and fresh.
Lincoln couldn’t form a response. She looked so damn good that his body was already fizzing with the anticipation of pleasure, and the genuine despair in those limpid green eyes appealed to the love-struck sixteen year old boy still clawing to be released inside him.
‘Um...hi.’ Sherri said, filling the silence. ‘You must be the infamous Ivyanne. I’m Adele’s replacement, Sherri.’ She turned to Lincoln. ‘She works here? You didn’t tell me that.’
‘Must have slipped my mind.’ Lincoln mumbled. ‘Sorry...I had a pretty crummy day yesterday.’
A flash of annoyed suspicion briefly contorted Ivyanne’s pretty features, no doubt wondering what Lincoln had told Sherri about her-but her gaze didn’t budge from his.
‘Hey,’ she said softly. ‘It’ll be nice to meet you Sherri, once I’ve sorted something out with the boss here.’
Lincoln swallowed. He was used to the cloak and dagger aspect of their relationship-hiding their feelings, keeping their hands to themselves. Her blatant acknowledgment of exclusivity from the new girl, the slight warning that Sherri ought to leave them alone, both quickened his pulse, and rendered him speechless.
‘Um..okay…’ Sherri sounded more than a little put-out, and Lincoln didn’t blame her. It was the first time that Ivyanne’s countenance had come close to resembling arrogance. And despite the fact that he liked her getting possessive about him, he was irritated all the same that she waited until she’d messed up, to do it.
‘You’ll need a backbone to be married to a queen.’ Tristan’s words floated back to him. ‘And you’re as scared of her as you are of boats.’
Lincoln’s hand shot out, catching the tie of Sherri’s apron, preventing her retreat as he mentally drew on whatever courage he could grasp through his lust and insecurity. Ivyanne may have been in charge out on Bracken. But here, he was still the boss-and he had to make it clear that what he’d endured the night before wasn’t something she could batt away with those damn luscious eyelashes. And she definitely couldn’t go ordering the other staff around to make time with him-time she hadn’t actually earned.
‘Actually, the only discussion you and I need to have right now concerns this young lady.’ He stepped back, pulling Sherri in front of him, placing his hands on her delicate shoulders. ‘Ivyanne, this is Sherri Vandenberg. You’ll be answering to her from now on, so I’d suggest you make your welcome a little warmer.’
The girl under his hands tensed, but her reaction had nothing on Ivyanne’s own. The princess’s eyebrows shot up.
‘Already?’ She demanded. ‘I thought it was a trial. She’s been here half a day.’
‘And yet she already knows her way around the register better than you do.’ Lincoln smiled down at Sherri’s head briefly, then back to Ivyanne, keeping his gaze cool. ‘You were offered the position, and you didn’t want it. I’m seeing now that it was for the best-so I hope you do too.’
‘I’m looking forward to working with you Ivyanne.’ The discomfort was evident in Sherri’s tone, but she didn’t shrink into herself. ‘I have a lot of ideas-starting with a bit of a promotion for the function room Lincoln’s got under development.’ She reached into the pouch of her apron and withdrew a handful of glossy fliers. ‘I made these last night. Whenever you get a chance today, try and disperse these among the local guests, okay? And be sure to talk it up.’
Lincoln looked down, surprised. ‘You made them?’
Sherri turned and smiled up at him. ‘I could see you weren’t in the state for it when you returned from your uh, date last night-so I had a crack at it. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Don’t mind? They’re fantastic!’ He massaged her shoulders lightly. ‘I’m gonna need to convince you to stick around, you know.’
Sherri laughed lightly. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of a tempting enough offer.’ She handed the little stack to Ivyanne. ‘You all good with this?’
But Ivyanne didn’t take the slips-she didn’t even look at them. Her gaze was locked on Sherri’s shoulders, and Lincoln’s hands upon them.
‘Ivyanne…?’ Lincoln had to fight a triumphant smile. ‘You okay?’
Ivyanne lifted her gaze back to his, and scowled. Her eyes had never been so green. The sheer luminosity of her jealousy was dazzling to behold. And for once-he was the culprit, not the victim. She took the fliers and shoved them into her pants pocket.
‘Sure.’ She said in a tight voice. ‘I’m just peachy.’
Thorny is more like it. Lincoln grinned, thrilled to have brought the human out in her once more.
And he intended to keep it that way, until she wept at his feet for forgiveness instead of demanding it.
⁓
The sound of Lincoln and Sherri chuckling quietly over something-probably her- followed Ivyanne all the way down to the coffee machine. They were speaking in low tones, and the warmth in their voice froze her out.
This is just fantastic! She thought, stuffing the little waterproof bag under the counter and scowling freely now that her face was turned away from them. I’m in love with a man who think that ‘an eye for an eye’ is an adult way to handle a hurt.
Whatever remorse Ivyanne had been drowning in all night abated in reflex to the punishment he was intent on making her suffer through. She thought of how angry Tristan had been with her the day before, but how willing he’d been to talk it out once he’d cooled down. He’d needed mere hours to recover.
Lincoln, on the other hand, had apparently been soaking in toxic anguish all night, and wasn’t ready to let it go in the light of day. She understood that he was mad, and she knew there was nothing she could do to make it up to him. But trying to make her jealous with the new bartender, who’s blonde hair was as good as a red flag to Ivyanne, was just petty. And insulting her work performance was just crossing a line. If it was so easy to shrug her company off, why fight so hard for it to begin with?
Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them back. She’d gotten herself into this situation, and she was the only one who could bail them all out of it-by resisting the wave of drama. She just wished that both men understood the position she was in-had an inkling of what she was going through. Every time they pulled her in opposite directions, she could feel the flesh of her heart rip a little further. What was she going to have left to love either with, when they were through?
⁓
Tristan stared glumly out his third floor office window in The Rocks on Thursday morning. He was looking straight at the Harbor Bridge and the massive Australian flag hanging from it, wishing he was out there kicking up his heels instead of inside, dealing with his American clients who didn’t give a fig about what day it was down under.
He swiveled away from the sunny and bustling scene outside, reclining back in his leather office chair and despairing at the red and black abstract painting on the wall behind his desk-a piece of art which seemed to radiate anger that day.
He hated to admit it to himself-but he was beginning to wonder if his quest for Ivyanne was as equally meaningless. Two weeks ago, for a few brilliant hours, it had seemed like Tristan was about to have not only her hand, but her heart and her child to boot. Now, he wasn’t sure if he’d get any of it. And if he did manage to prevail, would it be an empty victory based on luck instead of love? The memory of seeing her turn her back to him to gaze longingly after Lincoln made his fingers curl into fists.
Yes, his impatience was turning into melancholy. He’d never been in love before, and he wasn’t handling it well. Seduction was his forte, and he’d already abused that avenue. So how did you earn a girl’s heart when she forbade you from touching her and shied away from being alone with you?
And what if you suspected that regardless of what
you did, you’d never break the hold another man had on her anyway?
I said I’d be patient, he thought to himself, twirling his chair away from the painting again. But deep down, part of her must wish I’d just release her. She hasn’t said it, but she must be thinking it. Is that the only way I can make her love me? To do as Ardhi did-and let her go?
The phone rang, breaking Tristan out of his depressing train of thought, reminding him that he was supposed to be working-hard. The more he got done every day, the fewer days he had to leave her unchaperoned with the lifeguard come hotelier intent on winning her heart.
‘Lo?’ he answered, idly wondering if Lincoln and Ivyanne had made up yet-or if she was missing him at all.
‘Mr Loveridge I have Mr Schorer on the line for you from Absalom Developments in Anaheim,’ his secretary Juanita said breathily. She was an over-sexed caricature of a secretary, possibly setting the women’s movement back decades with her willingness to assist him. But she was efficient, the clients loved her and whenever Tristan had found himself too busy to pursue a social life, Juanita and her rock hard Pilates body had stepped up to that challenge as well- with no strings attached. He hadn’t laid a hand on her for six months, but he had a feeling that she and Sven had something going on the side instead.
‘He says it’s quite urgent?’
‘Absalom?’ Tristan was surprised. That was the real-estate development company in Southern California that Tristan been trying to get in with for over two years. The one he’d flown back to strategies about, because Sven had heard that Absalom was coming into a green energy grant-and would be looking for environmentally friendly ways to enhance their designs. It was a booming company, and Tristan’s mouth went dry to know he was going to have to talk to the CEO without having prepared for it properly first.
But at the same time, something inside him lit up-a spark that had been doused out in Seaview, while out of his element. He leaned over his desk. ‘Put him through.’