It had been years since Hunter had walked along this narrow dirt path. He had once made the trip at least once a day, but after he left the island, his trips were limited to an annual visit at best.
“Are you okay?” he asked Cassie, glancing at her flip-flops.
“Fine,” she said.
He smiled to himself. He was impressed. Most women would never have agreed to such an adventure. Especially when dressed in a fancy skirt and blouse. But Cassie did not seem to care what she was wearing. She seemed completely at ease, as if taking a walk to the edge of a volcano was a typical outing.
“It’s right up here,” Hunter said.
Cassie passed him, climbing up the peak. The crater had long since filled in, leaving just a grassy, narrow knoll. “It’s beautiful,” she said, looking at the blue-green Atlantic and the islands dotting the sea.
He nodded as he stood beside her. “I used to come here a lot.”
“Did you grow up on this island?”
He nodded. “I grew up in that ‘hut,’ as I believe you described it.”
Cassie swallowed as the color drained out of her face. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to insult you. I thought it was a cute house. I should’ve said bungalow.”
The look on her face made Hunter regret he had even mentioned it. Cassie was not a snob. It was his own clumsy way of proving that he wasn’t, either. “I know,” he said.
She nodded, seemingly relieved.
“You think it looks small now,” he said. “You should’ve seen it when my grandmother was alive.” He rolled his eyes and laughed. Out of the corner of his eye he could see her smile.
“Your grandmother lived there, too?”
“Yes. She took the bedroom and my father the couch, and I had a mattress on the floor.”
“You’re kidding?”
He shook his head. “No. We didn’t have much money. But my grandmother kept it together. You’d be surprised how far she could stretch one fish.”
“My grandmother was the same way,” she said. “She could stretch one pot roast a week.” She smiled.
“What about you?”
“Me?” She shook her head. “I can’t cook. I never felt the urge to try.”
“You’d rather be out taking pictures.”
She grinned. “I guess.” They walked in silence for a while. Hunter couldn’t help but think about her interest in photography. If Cassie did not have the mill, would she pursue a career behind the camera?
“What happened to your mother?” she asked.
“She died soon after I was born. My dad couldn’t cope, so my grandmother came out from France to help. She raised me.”
“Right,” she said, flashing him a bright smile. “I remember now.”
“What?”
“Say something in French.”
He hesitated. “Tu es la femme la plus belle que j’ai jamais vu,” he said quietly. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
“What does that mean?”
“It means…” He paused and glanced up at the sky. “I hope it doesn’t rain.”
She nodded as if she didn’t quite believe him. He shrugged and glanced away.
“Do you still have relatives in France?”
“Distant. My grandmother wanted to be buried back there, so I met some of them at her funeral.”
“That must have been interesting.”
“It was deafening.”
“What?”
“We’re a very loud family.”
She laughed, and he felt his spirits soar.
She glanced back toward the water. “This is so beautiful. It feels like we’re on the top of the world.”
“That’s why I loved it here. I could spend the day working and get home exhausted. But when I came up here I forgot everything. I felt as if I could take over the world.”
She paused a minute. “Why are you telling me all this?” she asked quietly, a slight hesitation in her voice.
Why was he? He was getting personal. He couldn’t seem to help himself. He wanted to open up to her, to prove to her he was not the bastard she thought he was. But there was only one way to do that.
“Hunter?” she said, still waiting for an answer.
“Cassie, I have to tell you, selling the mill to you does not make sense.”
He could see her stiffen.
“But I’m going to accept your offer.”
Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. “You are?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“So the mill will stay open?”
“That’s right.”
“Why?”
Why? Wasn’t it obvious? Because he couldn’t stand the thought of disappointing her.
Instead he said, “I didn’t realize that there was going to be such an insurgence from the locals. That’s not the way I do business.”
She stood still, almost as if she was afraid to breathe. “And you’ll still produce the Bodyguard cloth in China?”
Why had she brought up the patent? Was she insinuating that she wanted the patent, too? A mill that size could never handle the production of a mass-market product.
“That was the deal.” He could feel his defenses rise. He was angry. Didn’t she understand that this was a financial risk that he would never have assumed in any other circumstance? He was not a bank that reached out to nonprofit clients. He bought companies. He didn’t save them. “There will be some conditions of the sale, however,” he said, taking a step back. “After all, I need to know that my investment will be returned.”
“Of course,” she said. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest. She was looking everywhere but at him. What had happened? Shouldn’t she be happy? After all, he just gave her back the mill.
In any case, it was clear the cliff had lost its magic.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Cassie barely said a word when they returned to his father’s bungalow and retrieved her shoes, jacket and folder. She was polite and kind, but distant. Neither mentioned to his father that Hunter had agreed to sell the mill.
She was equally silent on the boat ride back. As they neared the dock, she finally said, “I’d like to return home as soon as possible.”
Hunter glanced at her. “Okay.”
“I have to get back and tell everyone the good news.”
And Hunter had to deal with Willa. He knew she would not be pleased. She was already talking to museums about which items would be donated, looking forward to the large tax credit. And she had already taken several companies through who were interested in purchasing the space. She would immediately recognize that his selling the mill back to the workers was based on emotion rather than reason.
But he didn’t care what Willa might think. At the moment all he could think about was Cassie.
He had half hoped that their rendezvous might suddenly turn romantic. But it hadn’t. Even before he brought up the mill, Cassie had maintained her distance. It was as if she was purposely keeping him at arm’s length. What had happened to the spontaneous woman he had met on the beach?
“I’ll arrange your flight back,” he said.
“Thank you,” she said. “Will you be returning with me?”
“No.” It was obvious that Cassie was only interested in a business relationship. Unfortunately, he was not willing or able to accept a platonic relationship. He could not be near her without wanting to touch her, without being tempted to kiss her.
Therefore, it was best if he stayed away from her. He would not return to Shanville. The lawyers would handle it from there.
“Tomorrow, then?” she asked.
He shook his head. “There’s no reason to wait till tomorrow.” He glanced at her. She was staring at him. “Is there?” he asked. Give me a reason, he pleaded silently. Please.
She shook her head. “I guess not.”
His heart sank. He pulled up to the dock and stopped the boat. He stepped out and turned to offer her hi
s hand. When she was safely on the dock, he let go.
He said, “I’ll drive you to your hotel so you can gather your things. I’ll let my office know that you’ll be ready to leave in an hour.”
“Wait,” she said, stopping him.
He turned back toward her.
“I…I wanted to thank you.”
“Sure,” he said. “It’s business, right?”
“No, it’s not just business. You have been so kind. More than kind. I will always be grateful.”
Her soft silk blouse fluttered in the wind. Her long auburn hair, tousled by the wind and water, was a mass of wild and sexy curls.
“Hunter,” she said. Her emerald green eyes sparkled. “I think my first impression of you was correct.”
“What was that?”
“That you were a kind and gentle man.”
He smiled sadly. Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be enough. He turned and began walking toward the house.
“I don’t want it to end like this,” she said.
He stopped.
“I want to stay here tonight,” she continued. “With you.”
Nine
She said it. The words that had been floating in her head just came spilling out. And it was too late to take them back.
Not that she wanted to. In fact, she had meant every word.
She had been surprised by the turn of events. She had expected a stiff, informal board meeting, not a visit to his childhood home to meet his family and friends. She had been given a rare glimpse at the person behind the facade. Instead of a corporate jerk, she had found a man who still had a close relationship with his father and childhood friends, a man who had saved the island on which he had grown up.
He had a heart.
And up there on that cliff it had seemed as if he might have wanted to share it with her. In front of her eyes, he had metamorphosed back into the man she had originally met on the beach, the one who had split a coconut with his hands. The one with whom she had shared the most intimate of experiences.
But when he told her he was giving her back the mill, she could think of only one thing: returning to Shanville.
Why?
Because she had been frightened.
She was more terrified of Hunter, the man, than she had ever been of Hunter Axon, ruthless business tycoon.
It had taken a while to digest the information, taken a while to pump up her confidence. But ultimately she remembered that she had never run away from a challenge in her life. She was not about to start now.
And so she had offered to stay.
More than stay.
She had offered herself.
And from his reaction she could tell it was an offer he was not prepared to accept.
Hunter stood there, looking at her as if deciding what to do with her.
Perhaps, she thought, as her heart dropped, he had changed his mind. Perhaps she had misread the cues, the subtle signs of his interest. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps he didn’t want her anymore.
The deal was done, the offer accepted. He was ready for her to go home.
He nodded, still looking at her. “Good,” he said. Then he turned and began walking back toward the house.
Good? What did that mean?
As she hurried to catch up, Hunter swung open his phone. She could hear him arrange to have her things brought over from the hotel. That was that. He was about as excited as if she had offered him a bowl of soup.
“If it’s not convenient for you, I can stay at the hotel,” she said, still hurrying to keep up with him.
He stopped so short she almost ran into him.
“I don’t like games,” he said.
They were standing nose to nose, eye to eye. “Neither do I,” she said.
“Then why are you playing them? If you want to stay here tonight, you’re more than welcome. If not, I’ll see to your return to Shanville.”
Why was he being so cold and indifferent? Didn’t he want her to stay? “If you don’t want me here, I’ll—” She stopped talking. His gaze had softened and he was looking at her tenderly.
He touched her cheek. His fingers trailed downward, outlining her chin. He gently lifted her head toward him and kissed her. It was deep and sensual, filled with a passion that belied his outward calm. Her senses reeled and her knees grew weak. Finally he said, “I’ve wanted to do that ever since I saw you in that auditorium.”
He took her hand, walking more slowly now. “Unfortunately, I have some business to attend to. But it shouldn’t take me long.”
“That’s fine,” she said. “Is there a place where I can freshen up?”
He touched her hair. “You look beautiful,” he said, practically caressing her with his eyes.
“Thanks,” she said. “But I would love a shower.”
He nodded. “We can arrange that.” They entered through the back. He led her through his grand rooms and up the sweeping staircase. As she walked up the stairs, she admired the paintings hanging on the wall. Most were by contemporary artists she had studied in school. “Is this a Kandinsky?” she asked, stopping in front of a painting with brightly colored cubes.
He nodded. “Do you like modern art?”
“Sometimes,” she replied honestly.
He smiled.
“But I can’t imagine having art like this in my house. I’d be so worried.”
“Worried?”
“What if there’s a hurricane…what if there’s a leak…?” She shrugged.
“It is a responsibility,” he said. “I’ll eventually donate most of these to a museum. In the meantime, I have a vault downstairs where I can put the paintings in case of a hurricane or leak.”
He stood there, looking at her as he continued to hold her hand. He started to walk again, but more slowly. He took her into a room that looked like an expensive hotel suite. A king-size bed faced French doors that overlooked the pool and the Atlantic beyond. Off to the side were two comfortable-looking lounge chairs.
Like the rest of the house, it looked brand-new. “Please make yourself at home. In the bathroom there are toiletries, robes, towels…anything you might need. I’ll see that you receive your things as soon as they arrive.” He held her hand to his lips and kissed it. It was a chivalrous, gallant act that had the desired effect. It left her wanting more.
He turned and left, closing the door behind him. She closed her eyes, fighting off a sudden case of nerves. Was she sure about this?
Could she handle another night with Hunter? After all, she still hadn’t quite recovered from the last one.
But she had little choice. In the argument between mind and body, her body was pulling rank.
One night. One more night.
And then she would be on a plane back to Shanville. She would be so busy she would forget all about her elusive lover. Right?
She walked into the bathroom. Like the rest of the house, it was grand, elegant and looked brand-new. White marble was everywhere, the countertop, the floor, the shower. Everything appeared to have been designed with women in mind—right down to the little basket of lilac-scented toiletries and the woman’s robe.
She suddenly realized that this was not just any old guest room. This was exactly what it looked like: a suite reserved for his female guests.
But why would he give them a separate room? Why not have them use his private quarters?
She wondered how many women had used this room to “freshen up.” Had the woman he’d gone out with the previous night used it, as well?
She glanced around the brightly colored walls. So what if she had? Cassie reminded herself that she could not think about the future or the past. She was there now, and that was all that mattered.
She scrubbed off the salt and sand, relaxing in the steamy heat of the shower. Afterward she wrapped herself in the fluffy robe and brushed her hair.
She stepped out of the bathroom. On the table between the lounge chairs was an open bottle of champagne and a crystal glass. Some
one had delivered it to her room while she had been in the shower.
She helped herself to a glass of champagne and walked out on the balcony.
She wondered whether she should dress in the same clothes she had worn to the island. After all, who knew when her clothes might arrive?
Then again, she thought, admiring the view, who cared? She was perfectly content to take a while to admire her beautiful surroundings and rehash the day’s events.
But she didn’t have long to wait. Within moments there was a knock on her door. When she opened it, Hunter himself was standing in front of her, carrying her suitcase.
She said, “I’m surprised you brought that up yourself.”
“Why?”
“I thought you’d have one of your…” Servants? Helpers? “One of the people who work for you.”
“The only person who works here is Gehta,” he said, walking past her and setting the suitcase on the bed. He had showered as well, and his wet hair was slicked back. He had changed out of the clothes he had worn that day and was wearing a linen shirt and pants.
“And she’s gone for the day,” he continued. “I’d never ask her to carry it up those steps, anyway.”
So they were alone. He was the one who had brought in the champagne.
“Are you enjoying the champagne?” he asked softly. She saw him swallow as his eyes slowly grazed down her body.
She nodded. “Yes, thank you.”
He took another step toward her, staring into her eyes. He touched her cheek.
It was just a touch, but it was enough to cause her body to react. Maybe the champagne, the shower, the beautiful and warm evening were all to blame.
Still looking into her eyes, he undid the tie to her robe. He paused, as if waiting for her to stop him. But she didn’t. All of her concerns faded away. All she could think about was how much she wanted him to touch her, to hold her. How much she wanted to feel him inside her.
He put his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed off her robe. It fell to the ground, leaving her naked and exposed.
He had not taken his eyes off hers. Usually she was modest and reserved, but there was something about Hunter that made her throw caution to the wind. She felt bold and passionate. Adventurous. She straightened her back, not afraid to display her body.
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