by BETH KERY
“There’s nothing worse than urban hillbillies, Mr. Fall,” she explained with a small, apologetic smile. “I don’t know how much you actually know about Little Paradise, but that’s a pretty apt descriptor for who lives in the trailer park there. It’s just that in our case, the ‘hill’ is a giant garbage dump.”
She’d been trying to use levity. She must have only sounded flippant, though, because he looked very sober.
“My point is, Durand doesn’t just offer philanthropy to needy kids to get publicity and prime photo ops, and then drop them off on the streets and forget about them. The man I’m speaking of rose through the ranks, starting as a Camp Durand camper when he was twelve years old. People-building isn’t an empty philosophy at Durand. We want the best, no matter where the best comes from.”
She realized belatedly she’d turned and was staring at him now full in the face. Searching. Suspicious.
Hopeful.
Against her will, her gaze flickered down over his snow-white tailored dress shirt and light blue silk tie. A vivid, shocking impression popped into her head of sliding her fingers beneath that crisp cotton and touching warm skin, her palm gliding against the ridges and hollows of bone and dense, lean muscle. Her gaze dropped to his hands.
Just the thought of his hands sliding across her skin made her lungs freeze.
I’ll bet he could play me perfectly. He just looks like he knows his way around a woman’s body. He’d do things to me I’ve never even imagined.
They were completely inappropriate thoughts, but that didn’t halt her instinctive reaction. Need rushed through her like a shock to the flesh, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Her thighs tightened, as if to contain that unexpected flash fire.
Maybe it was because her few former lovers suddenly seemed young and clumsy in comparison to Dylan Fall?
Her stare leapt guiltily to his face. His dark brows slanted dangerously, but he also looked a little … startled? His eyes flickered downward, just like hers had. She hunched her shoulders slightly at the web work of sensation that tingled the skin of her breasts, tightening her nipples against her bra.
The whole scoring, nonverbal exchange lasted all of three ephemeral seconds.
Her hand curled into a fist when she recognized she’d let her guard drop.
“I’m happy for your friend. But I’m not a charity project,” she said.
“Neither was he.”
She flinched slightly at the stinging authority of his reply. Dylan Fall was a little scary in that moment.
“We’ll be in touch,” he repeated, looking down at the desk in a preoccupied fashion, and she knew she’d imagined not only that spark of mutual lust, but his cold, clear anger at her pitiful display of insubordination.
TWO
SEVEN WEEKS LATER
The first thing Alice’s gaze settled on when arriving at Camp Durand was the pale stone, ornate Victorian mansion looming above them. It stood perhaps a hundred and fifty feet from the edge of a craggy limestone bluff that dropped off dramatically to what Alice supposed would be a Lake Michigan beach. She couldn’t tell for certain with all the surrounding trees and foliage blocking the view immediately in front of the slow-moving limousine in which she rode.
Her avid stare at the mansion was torn away by a flash of gleaming, tanned skin and flexing muscle. The object of her snagged attention was probably around six feet tall and had short wavy golden-brown hair. He was definitely an athlete, given that body. He was helping another young man suspend a large banner that read, Welcome to Camp Durand. Welcome Home, between two oak trees. The brisk Lake Michigan wind was giving the pair a challenge hanging the flapping sign. Alice guessed they were two other Camp Durand counselors.
Yes. You actually are part of their elite little group. This isn’t a dream.
She had to keep reminding herself, but the trancelike quality of her consciousness only seemed to be amplifying since they’d pulled onto the long country road that led to the camp.
Within seconds of culminating her interview with Fall, she’d already abandoned all hope of getting a position at Camp Durand, let alone at Durand Enterprises itself. She’d shot above herself, but fortunately, she hadn’t let her head get too caught up in the stars.
She’d moved on, interviewing for several stable, boring-sounding positions in the city. Maggie had been right about one thing: The encounter with Fall had turned her from a hopeless interviewee into an average one with better-than-average qualifications.
She’d survived Little Paradise and graduate school. She’d lived through an interview with Dylan Fall.
What else could rattle her?
When she’d gotten the call from Sebastian Kehoe two weeks ago, she’d been floored.
Kehoe hadn’t said so, but given the lateness of the invitation call, she’d figured one of the counselors—one of the ones who actually belonged at Camp Durand—had backed out at the last moment.
“That’s Thad Schaefer,” Brooke Seifert said confidently from where she sat across from Alice, nodding at the gorgeous guy holding the sign. Alice sat alone on the long seat next to the window of the chauffeur-driven limo. Brooke Seifert and Tory Hastings, two other Camp Durand counselors, sat across from her, chatting about topics Alice knew nothing about. Which was the whole point: to shut Alice out.
This morning, Alice had taken the “L” out to O’Hare Airport to meet up with the limo driver and two other incoming Camp Durand counselors. Alice had almost immediately noticed Brooke and Tory’s silent judgment when she introduced herself, the cool, slightly incredulous glances at her frayed jean shorts, T-shirt, combat boots, worn backpack, and army-surplus duffel bag. Which was fine by Alice. She’d already dismissed Tory and Brooke when the driver had mentioned their elite East Coast MBA programs and preppy, rich-girl names.
At the moment, however, all three of them shared something in common. They were all drooling over the half-naked golden dude outside the window. Something about the proprietary quality of Brooke’s tone just now implied she knew the guy personally.
“What kind of a name is Thad?” Alice mumbled, even though she didn’t unglue her gaze from Thad for a second.
“It’s short for Thaddeus, an old family name,” Brooke snapped. “We went to school together at Yale,” she said, her voice segueing to an intimate and slightly mischievous tone as she focused her attention on Tory, once again excluding Alice. Brooke had acquired Tory as a willing slave within two minutes of their meeting at the airport. Alice rolled her eyes, her gaze flickering back up to the stark mansion on the hill as if drawn by a magnet. She’d never seen a place with so many elaborate cornices, verandas, and towers. It looked so beautiful and still up there on the hill. Not that a house moved, of course. It was just that the trees and flowers swayed from the lake breeze and white clouds soared across the robin’s-egg-blue sky, but the house itself remained impervious to the flutter of second-to-second everyday life, like it was enchanted … frozen in time.
“His family and mine go way back. Dad went to school with Judge Schaefer, Thad’s dad,” Brooke was saying to her new best friend forever, Tory.
“Who lives in the big house?” Alice asked.
Brooke made a muted sound of annoyance at the interruption of her story, but she must not have been able to stop herself from showing off her unique knowledge. “They call it Castle Durand around Morgantown,” Brooke said, referring to the nearby Michigan town where Durand Enterprises’ corporate headquarters and several manufacturing plants and warehouses were located. Durand employed more than fifty percent of Morgantown’s population. “And Mr. Top Hot himself lives there, of course,” Brooke said smugly as the car slowed.
Alice jerked around. Mr. Top Hot could only mean one man.
“Dylan Fall? Lives on the same grounds as the camp?”
“This property isn’t just a camp. It’s the Durand estate. It’s not like he’ll have campers traipsing through his drawing rooms or splashing around in his pool,” Brooke said, sc
owling. “The estate is enormous. There are two golf courses, stables, several swimming pools, woods, a marina, miles of hiking trails, tennis courts, and gardens, and those are the private ones, not the ones designated for the camp. Although Fall very generously shares the stables, tennis courts, and one of the golf courses with the campers, from what I understand. My father played golf with some Durand managers here once at the executive course, and got a tour of the grounds,” she added, turning to Tory.
“We get to go there … To the castle, I mean,” Tory said. “Once in a while. There’s a dinner up there on the night we finish our training, before the kids come, and there are other events scheduled up there as the weeks go on. It was on the agenda in our packets. So … what were you saying about Thad Schaefer?” Tory wondered.
Alice silently absorbed this unsettling news as the sedan swung into a parking lot and Brooke resumed her self-satisfied jabbering. She’d read about the events in the literature Sebastian Kehoe had sent. She’d thought the term Castle Durand was some kind of fancy term for the camp headquarters or something. She hadn’t for a second imagined going to Dylan Fall’s house.
“The Schaefers threw a big party for Thad and me when we heard the news,” Brooke was saying. “It’s the first time in Yale history that two of us were chosen from the School of Management for Camp Durand. Usually Durand only selects one. Thad and I hated competing for the spot. You can imagine how thrilled everyone was when we got the news we both got in.”
Right. People celebrated across the known WASP world.
“Two of you,” Tory said in awe. “I was the first to be picked from Brown in three years.”
“They try to even things out among the big business grad schools and then leave room for … you know. Possible outliers and unique cases,” Brooke explained patiently in a manner that set Alice to grinding her teeth.
“At least I’m unique,” Alice said, shoving open the car door immediately when the car halted.
“Oh, you’re special all right,” she heard Brooke say behind her as Alice lunged onto the gravel lot. She slammed the door shut in order to halt the sound of choked laughter coming from within. Brooke and her minion would want the limo driver to open the door for them anyway.
The last two hours in the backseat of that car had been pure torture. It definitely didn’t bode well for the next four weeks. Maybe this whole thing wasn’t so much a dream as a nightmare.
She hauled her backpack onto her shoulder and gave the emerging driver a nod. He’d introduced himself earlier as Todd Barrett.
“I’ll get all the bags and deliver them to the camp,” Todd said in a friendly fashion, starting to move past her. He paused. “The cabins and dining hall are down that path, right over through the woods,” he said, pointing. “If you want to have a look around, go on ahead. You can see the main lodge there through the trees.”
“Okay, thanks,” Alice muttered, embarrassed because something in his tone of voice told her he’d noticed her “outsider” status with Brooke and Tory during the drive, and felt sorry for her.
The banner hangers had risen on their stepladders. As Alice slowly approached them, a strong gust of lake wind suddenly jolted the dark-haired guy on his ladder and whipped the sign out of his grip. The vinyl material plastered against his chest and face. He made a muffled sound of distressed surprise and faltered on the stepladder, blinded. The hand that held the hammer flailed in the air as he grabbed for a solid grip with the other. Alice dropped her backpack, ran, and flew up the first three steps of the stepladder, grasping him at the waist.
“Whoa, hold still. I’ve got you,” she said. When he’d steadied on his feet, she reached and helped him peel the sign off his face. He looked around at her with thankful, startled dark eyes.
“You okay, Dave?” someone called.
Alice glanced aside and saw the guy they’d been leching over in the limo running up to them, the other end of the flapping banner and a hammer in his hands. Dave seemed to have gained his balance. She let go of him and stepped back down onto the ground.
“That’s a frickin’ strong wind,” Dave said disbelievingly, following her down the stepladder.
“Maybe you guys should hang it in the direction of the wind,” Alice suggested delicately, pointing between two alternate trees. “I know the kids won’t see it when they first arrive next week, but they will as they walk toward the cabins.”
Thad laughed. “The brains of the outfit,” he said, hitching a thumb at Alice. “I guess Harvard taught you everything but basic common sense,” he told Dave.
“You were marching in the same asshat parade. I was just doing what Sebastian told us to do. It was supposed to be a welcome for the counselors, too, but Sebastian and his crew didn’t get it up in time,” Dave said, firming his hold on the end of the madly flapping banner. Then he smiled, and Alice realized he was really very handsome in a quiet, reserved, smart-guy fashion. “So … welcome. And thanks, by the way,” he said to Alice, stretching out his hand. “Dave Epstein. And that’s Thad Schaefer.”
“Alice Reed,” she said, shaking Dave’s hand first.
“You move fast,” Thad told her as they exchanged a handshake. “I like that it in a woman.”
Dave snorted. Alice rolled her eyes and smiled, because Thad Schaefer had clearly been teasing. He had a tattoo of a leaping shark on his biceps and a smear of dirt on a bulging pectoral muscle. His green eyes were warm and friendly on her face. She didn’t think he was a male clone of Brooke, or at least that was her first impression.
“Seriously,” Thad said as she dropped her hand from his. “I like fast people in general. At least while I’m here I do. Sebastian put me in charge of football, swimming, and sailing. Do you want to help me coach football? You’re a Durand counselor, right? You three are the last to get here. We’ve been waiting for you,” he said, nodding in the direction of the sedan. The driver was removing their luggage from the trunk, and Brooke and Tory were milling around, glancing in their direction, Tory holding back her long windblown blond hair from her face.
“Hey. I thought I was going to coach football with you,” Dave said, scowling.
“That was before I saw her,” Thad replied.
Dave made a subtle “I see your point” shrug. Alice laughed. She couldn’t help but be flattered. Thad hadn’t said it in a gross, lecherous fashion. He’d sounded honest and down to earth, and just plain nice. The two men seemed completely at ease with each other, and their comfortable bubble seemed to expand somehow to include her. It was just what she needed after sitting in the backseat with Brooke gnawing at her nerves for hours.
“Still, no fair recruiting her before anyone else gets a chance,” Dave persisted. “Are you any good at archery?”
“I don’t know,” Alice said. “I’ve got a pretty good aim with a rock though.”
“Do we want to know why?” Thad laughed.
“Probably not.”
He had a dimple in his right cheek and a great smile.
“I’m nothing great at football, but I like running. And oh … yeah, I am a Durand counselor,” she said dubiously, checking off Thad’s earlier queries.
“You sound a little uncertain about that,” Thad said.
“I feel a little old to be a camp counselor, I guess. It’s a unique setup they have going on here,” she said.
“If you call being under the microscope during an almost fourteen-hour workday a unique setup,” Dave said quietly. She shared a glance of silent understanding with him. Durand employees would be watching them constantly while they were there, observing how they reacted to stress, tallying who rose to challenges and who failed.
“Well, I plan to have some fun while I’m here,” Thad said. Dave gave him a skeptical look. “There’s nothing to say I can’t work hard and have fun, too,” Thad reasoned.
“Spoken like a true-blue Durand executive,” Dave replied with amused sarcasm.
“I’m just a little nervous about the kid factor,” Alice adm
itted honestly. “I’m not so sure what being a Durand exec has to do with babysitting.”
“Maybe the question should be: What does being a Durand exec have in common with being a prison guard or probation officer?” Dave said. “I hope I don’t sound too pessimistic for saying that, but Sebastian Kehoe told Thad and me firsthand a few minutes ago that quite a few of our sweet little future protégés have multiple past arrest records.”
“He was probably exaggerating to make a point,” Thad said with a shrug.
“I don’t think so,” Alice replied. She felt Thad’s gaze go sharp on her, but didn’t flinch in returning his glance. She herself had a couple petty arrests on her record, both acquired before she was seventeen. Police prowled Little Paradise constantly. Alice could never claim to have been an angel growing up, but neither could most kids. It was just that in Little Paradise, you had a damn good chance at being caught at something suspicious. She’d been squeaky clean since moving to Chicago and earning her undergraduate and graduate degrees. But it was kind of hard to live in Little Paradise—it was sort of challenging to be Sissy Reed’s daughter—and not have any run-ins with the law. She imagined it was a similar scenario for a majority of the kids who would be arriving by the busload from Chicago and Detroit in a week’s time.
She broke Thad’s stare when Tory and Brooke drew near. Brooke squealed Thad’s name and flew into his arms, her fingertips brushing over dense shoulder and back muscles. Alice noticed with grim amusement that her hug was a hell of a lot more enthusiastic than Thad’s perfunctory one. But in all fairness, maybe that was because he was holding a flapping sign and a hammer at the same time.
Thad and Brooke made introductions.
“Dave Epstein,” Brooke mused a moment later as she shook Dave’s hand. “Didn’t you go to high school at Choate Rosemary Hall with Thad?”
“Yeah. On most days, that is … when Thad wasn’t skipping class and fishing around the Thimble Islands in his dad’s boat or sleeping off a hangover,” Dave gibed with a half grin.