by Nalini Singh
“If you did become a famous poet,” Sailor said to a laugh from Ísa, “would you give up the teaching?”
“No. I love teaching.” It felt like a calling.
“Can I hear one of your poems?”
“I’ll think about it.” Ísa felt oddly shy about sharing her work with him, showing him those quirky little pieces of her soul. “You must be tired,” she said to give herself time to think. “You’ve achieved an incredible amount in a short a time.”
“I’ve got probably half an hour of workable light left.” He finished up the last of his food. “You done for the day?”
Ísa made a face. “No, I’m handling something for Jacqueline that’s sucking up my time.”
“Is it to do with that megastore idea that was in the business news the other day? Not your mother’s usual style—revealing her plans before she’s got everything in place.”
Ísa should’ve known he’d figure out that something was off; Sailor Bishop was too smart for his own good. Going with her gut, she told him what was going on.
His eyes cooled when she began to talk about her investigation into anyone who’d been in Jacqueline’s office during the applicable period. “You think I did it?”
“Don’t you start,” she snapped, shoving her used chopsticks into their makeshift trash bag with unnecessary force. “I already spent far too long convincing my mother that it couldn’t be you. You’re not that dumb.”
He let out a loud laugh, throwing back his head, a beautiful creature kissed by the late-evening light. Ísa’s heart, it hurt.
“Who do you think it is?” he said afterward, his eyes sparkling.
“I’ve got nothing right now.” She wanted to pull out her hair from the frustration of it. “But if someone does want to hurt Crafty Corners, they might try something here. A lot of people are watching to see if Fast Organic will fail or succeed.”
“I’ll keep an eye out.” Sailor stared at the garden he’d laid out. “I didn’t get a loan from the bank today,” he said abruptly. “Or more specifically, I got half of what I need.”
Ísa stomach clenched; she understood instinctively that the setback was a bad one. She also understood what it meant for her fiercely ambitious and determined lover to trust her with this.
Closing her hand over his, she said, “Impact?”
“If I don’t do anything to mitigate the loss, things will change too much for me to realize what I’ve been planning for the past two years, ever since I identified a gap in the market.”
He would’ve been twenty-one at the time. Already dreaming huge dreams and with the drive and willpower to make those dreams happen. Was it any wonder she was so hopelessly in love with him?
Oh God.
Why the hell had she done that, admitted the truth? How could she hide from it now?
“It sounds like you have a plan,” she said through the lump in her throat.
Weaving his fingers through hers, Sailor held on fast. “I’ll have to double my workload,” he said, as if he wasn’t talking about an insane time investment.
As if he wasn’t breaking Ísa’s heart.
She braced herself to hear that he’d have no time for a relationship. No time for her.
“I’ll probably be a zombie,” he said, lifting their clasped hands to press a kiss to her knuckles. “But if you’ll let me, I’ll be your zombie.”
Ísa’s lungs hurt, she was finding it so hard to breathe. “Oh?”
“We could make it work,” he said, that same determined flame in the blue of his eyes that she’d seen when he talked about his business dreams. “Breakfast together at the crack of dawn”—a playful grin that asked her to smile with him—“then sophisticated dinner dates like this.” He waved a hand. “Followed by mutual nakedness at night.”
His passion was a wildfire that licked over her and asked her to believe even though she’d seen firsthand that no relationship could survive this kind of relentless stress. And no one as ambitious as Sailor would be satisfied with a single triumph.
There would always be more mountains to climb, more glories to achieve.
More important things than Ísa.
And still she wanted to believe. She loved him too much not to grasp at even the thinnest straw of hope. “What about the weekends?” Except for those magical five years with her grandmother, Ísa had spent countless hours alone as a child; the idea of repeating that existence was her personal nightmare.
Especially when it was Sailor she’d be missing.
“You could come with me,” Sailor said, his hand still locked possessively around her own. “After your work with Jacqueline is finished, you could grade papers and write your poetry while I landscaped.”
When Ísa parted her lips—to say what, she wasn’t sure—he shook his head. “Try, Ísa. Please.”
It was the wrenching emotion in that last word that got to her.
Shaken by the raw power of it, she went against her every instinct and nodded. “When do you start your work schedule from hell?”
Hauling her into his lap, he thrust his hand into her hair, sent it tumbling around her shoulders. “I won’t let you down, spitfire.” A kiss that stole her will, threatened to steal all her own dreams, threatened to splinter her to pieces.
“I’ve already begun,” he told her afterward as she lay curled in his lap. “But I’ll have a break early in the new year—I made a promise to my dad months ago that I’d go on a family camping trip. Come with me?”
Shoving down her fear of being left behind in favor of bigger dreams, Ísa nodded. Because when Ísa Rain agreed to try something, she did so with her whole heart and soul. No regrets. No hesitation. “Yes,” she said on a wave of determination as potent as Sailor’s after stuffing her pain into a box and locking it shut. “I’ll come.”
Sailor kissed her knuckles again. And in his eyes, she saw a shadow that made her heart twist. He was hiding something else. “Sailor?” She scowled at him. “Talk to me.” It was a demand.
“Not tonight, Ísa.” Almost a plea. “Tonight let’s just be us.”
Not dropping her scowl, Ísa nonetheless ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re on notice, Sailor Bishop. If you want me to be yours, then you be mine.” She pressed her nose to his. “You talk to me.”
A softening of his lips, a slight curve. “I’ll talk at camp, boss lady,” he said. “I promise.”
Ísa would hold him to that promise. And she’d fight her hardest to hold on to every sexy, sweet, funny, powerful thing between them. Giving up was not in her vocabulary. Even when it might be good for her.
Just as well she didn’t own a diaphanous white gown.
Standards
A woman must have standards
Filmy white gowns might be all the rage
For madness or a nervous breakdown
But darling, black is far more dramatic
And lends gravitas to your insanity
~ Ísalind Rain
34
Happy New Year
ONLY DAYS LATER, THE NEW year roared in on a blast of summer heat… and a kiss that ignited Ísa’s blood to boiling point. Sailor had worked all day, but he was there for her at midnight, the two of them standing on the roof of her apartment building while, in the distance, fireworks erupted in splashes of light and color from Auckland’s Sky Tower.
“Are you making any new-year resolutions?” she whispered after the kiss while the fireworks still bloomed and her romantic heart dreamed of kisses into forever.
Expression solemn, Sailor cupped her cheek. “To kiss my Ísalind as much as possible.”
No, she stood no chance.
Rising on tiptoe, Ísa touched her lips to his as the balmy summer breeze twined around them, and all across the country, lovers kissed.
35
Ísa and Nayna and a Bottle of Tequila
TWO DAYS LATER, WHEN ÍSA finally made it home—after nine that night—it was to find Nayna sitting in her car outside Ísa
’s apartment building.
Ísa had stayed late at the office to work on the Case of the Dastardly Leaker, as dubbed by Catie with a little help from Harlow. Both had decided “spy” was far too sophisticated a title. According to them, “Leaker” was way more low class. As to how they’d figured out the investigation was occurring, it wasn’t exactly rocket science if you knew Jacqueline and how she’d react to such a breach.
“And who else would she ask to look into it but you?” Harlow had said guilelessly. “Family is everything to you, Ísa.”
Her sweet, occasionally goofy brother had hit the painful nail right on the head.
Shrugging off the unintended blow and her dream of standing on firm ground that would never shift—with a mate who always saw her—hidden protectively deep, she’d continued to work. She didn’t have Jacqueline’s labyrinthine contacts, but she had an English degree. It so happened that one of her classmates had ended up a journalist who worked for the newspaper that had printed the story.
When she’d called him up to ask about the newspaper’s policies, he’d said, “We don’t pay for information, doesn’t matter what the story. That’s what separates us from the tabloids.”
That little piece of information had thrown a wrench in all her theories. She was still chewing over it when she pulled into the apartment block’s parking lot and saw Nayna’s car in a guest spot. Her friend was sitting inside.
Getting out of her own car, Ísa walked over to tap on the other woman’s window.
Nayna visibly jumped. “Jeez,” she said after scrambling out. “You gave me such a fright. I was away with the fairies.”
“How long have you been waiting?”
“Not long, just five minutes. I was going to call, see if you were home, but I decided to sit and brood in my car first.”
“Come brood with me instead,” Ísa said, her mind filled with thoughts of a certain blue-eyed gardener who made her do crazy things like decide to try to make their relationship work even though it was surely doomed.
Once inside Ísa’s apartment, both their purses down and shoes kicked off, Ísa made them a pot of tea.
“Mr. Blue Eyes coming over tonight?” Nayna asked.
“No, he promised to take his younger brothers to a late movie.” Ísa loved Sailor all the more for being such a good big brother, for carving out that time even when he was pushing himself to the limit from dawn to well past dusk. It wasn’t family commitments that had ever worried her—family was Ísa’s lifeblood. “Now sit. Talk.”
Settling into the sofa at Ísa’s side, Nayna said, “I need to get away” with a narrow-eyed expression on her face. “You know what I’ve realized? Raj is obstinate as hell in a quiet way. He’s decided on me and he’s not budging.”
“And you’re not sure yet?”
“I want to strip him naked and jump his bones like a sex maniac. Plus it turns out I like his brains.” Nayna gulped her tea down like it was whiskey. “But there’s all this other stuff in my head that’s making it hard to think.”
Slamming the teacup on the coffee table, she got up and began to pace, her breathing choppy. “Last night I got home to find my sister sitting at the kitchen table again, chatting away to my father. I love her, but at that instant I wanted to scream at her for ruining my life.”
A harsh exhale. “And that was when I realized she hadn’t done anything to me. This is my life, and I’m the one who’s screwed it up.” Slumping back on the sofa, she folded her arms, her expression set. “I’m taking some extra vacation time, getting the hell out of here so I can clear my head. I’ve already okayed it with my bosses.”
“Where are you going?” No way was Ísa about to let Nayna run off without getting all the details so she could watch out for her friend.
“Here.” Taking out her phone, Nayna forwarded the booking to Ísa.
“If Raj tracks me down and asks?”
“You know nothing.”
“Got it.”
Nayna did some more serious tea drinking. “So, you’re going camping?”
“I hate you,” Ísa said with a death glare. “I’m doing it for love.”
Snorting and laughing at the same time, Nayna told her to make sure she took toilet paper.
After threatening to strangle her best friend, Ísa admitted the truth. “I’m terrified I’ll come last with him, Nayna.” The other woman had witnessed Ísa’s lonely existence firsthand, had seen the scars being formed. “I’m also scared that I’ll talk myself into just another day, just another month, just another year, and when I look up, I’ll be all alone in a big house.”
“Bull. Shit.” Nayna poked Ísa in the side. “You’re not a child anymore. You’re a kick-ass woman who takes no prisoners. You really think you’ll let your Sailor pull that kind of crap?”
Your Sailor.
Ísa liked the sound of that. “I’m just as weak when it comes to Sailor as you are when it comes to Raj’s abs.”
Sighing, Nayna said, “I wish I’d shut my mouth at the party. He’s so pretty, and he was going to let me touch him all over.” A hard shake of her head. “But my dirty fantasies are not what we were talking about. Seriously, Ísa, you’re way too tough—and too honest—to fool yourself into a nightmare.”
As deeply in love as Ísa was with Sailor, she wasn’t so certain.
Right then, the night beyond the windows blurred as a sudden burst of rain thundered down in a resounding crash.
And Nayna said, “Fuck the tea. Where’s the tequila? I’ll sleep over.”
And that was how Ísa ended up with her first hangover since college… and Nayna ended up drunk-dialing a certain man and telling him she wanted to lick his abs.
* * *
“TEQUILA IS THE DEVIL,” NAYNA moaned down Ísa’s private office line. “Oh, fuck, they’re announcing my flight. And Raj just sent me another picture of his abs. He’s added the tongue emoji.”
Ísa couldn’t help laughing, her stomach aching from the force of it. Thankfully, the over-the-counter painkillers she’d taken had finally kicked in. “How many does that make since you woke up?”
“Stop laughing,” Nayna said grumpily. “Do you know how hard it is to think when my phone is full of half-naked pictures of him that I just want to ogle?” Her breathing picked up. “Last call for my gate. Talk to you later.”
“Don’t get into any more trouble,” Ísa ordered.
“Forget trouble. Let’s just hope I don’t throw up.”
After hanging up, Ísa logged into her computer and saw that company security had finally forwarded her the recordings she’d asked for. Crafty Corners didn’t have internal security—that would just be creepy, the employees being watched all day. However, they did have security at all the main exits and entrances and in the elevators.
She still had a number of hours of footage to scan through when she had to stop and dive into the normal work of a vice president. When Jacqueline asked her to come to her office and report on the spy situation, Ísa replied that she was working on it and if Jacqueline didn’t stop with the micromanaging, Ísa would dump the whole mess in her lap.
The Dragon backed off.
And Ginny brought her in a neatly boxed package that had been left for her at the front desk. This cactus was a round ball of fluff that had Ísa grinning like a goof.
You’re a strange man, she messaged Sailor.
But I’m your strange man.
Ísa sucked in a deep breath at that, scared at just how much those words meant to her. But, determined to try, to have no regrets, she met him at the work site at seven thirty that night; she’d brought along a healthy “home cooked” meal. It was actually takeout from a family-style restaurant that tried for simple fare with little fat.
They did love their carbs, but she figured Sailor needed those carbs. Especially when she discovered he’d just grabbed a single sandwich for lunch. “Good grief, Sailor, muscles like that can’t survive on a sandwich alone. And you know I’m just here for th
e muscles.”
Grinning, he hauled her in for a kiss that was red-hot heat and possession, openly appreciative hands on her rear. Ísa tucked her own hands into the back pockets of his shorts and squeezed. He licked his tongue across hers in revenge. She toed off one of her kitten heels and ran her toes up his calf.
He broke the kiss with a groan. “You play dirty, spitfire.” Another suckling kiss. “I like it.”
“We should eat,” Ísa managed to say. “I know we’re standing next to a garden bed, but I hear those beds aren’t very comfortable.”
“Smart-ass.” He petted that ass. “But yeah, you’re right. Let’s eat.”
Afterward, Sailor’s blue eyes captured hers. “Do you have to go back to the office?”
Ísa thought about it and realized she could plug in her earbuds and review the security footage on her laptop. “No, I can work remotely.”
He immediately brought over another empty wooden crate. “Ta-da! Your outdoor desk.”
They didn’t speak over the next hour and a half as the summer evening turned to dusk, but they were together, and every so often, he’d swing by and tip up her chin for a kiss. Ísa’s toes curled a little more with every kiss, until by the time the light faded into night and Sailor had to pack it in for the day, she was so hungry for him that she would’ve attacked him in the back seat of his truck given half a choice.
As it was, she followed him home since it’d be easier for him to shower at his place. When he pressed her up against the closed front door and kissed her, all heat and sweat and dirt, she didn’t care in the least. The earthy smell of him was a primal aphrodisiac that sank into her blood and turned it to molasses.
Squeezing her breast when she began to tug at his T-shirt, he pulled back enough to tear it off, then unzipped her dress and pushed it down to pool at her feet. “Fuck, spitfire. You’re my favorite dessert.” He bent to nip at her throat, his rough-skinned hands blatantly shaping her breasts.