Compromising Her Position

by Samanthe Beck

  Branded, like one of the herd. She ran her fingertip over the tender spot, triggering the memory of his mouth on her skin. She dragged her attention back to the conversation in time to hear the dispatcher tell her they had a drop-off in Twilight Cove and the cab would be in the drive in less than five minutes. Miracle. Fate smiled on her for once.

  She tossed the phone in her bag and then walked to the door. After opening it, she paused for a last look around. Stalling. Hoping he’d come down the stairs searching for her, and say some magic words that would make her feel like she could still do this.

  But she couldn’t. One positive thing had come out of the last six weeks. She wasn’t ready to give up on love anymore. She knew what she wanted, though, and she wasn’t going to find it with Rafe.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Dammit.” Rafe hit disconnect when his call went to Chelsea’s voicemail, and tossed his phone onto the kitchen island. It skidded across the granite and clattered onto the terrazzo floor. “Dammit,” he said again, at the same time Arden came through the sliding glass door leading from the deck.

  “And good morning to you, too.” She picked up his phone and handed it to him.

  “Thanks. When did you get back?” Realizing he sounded surly, he added, “And how was…wherever the hell you were?”

  “I got back about an hour ago, and San Francisco was lovely. Going out on a limb here, but am I interrupting some kind of temper tantrum?”

  “No.” He didn’t intend to explain to his little sister that his carefully laid plans had somehow backfired and he’d woken up alone this morning, instead of next to Chelsea. They were not eagerly scheduling his next trip to Maui over eggs and coffee.

  “Does it have anything to do with the woman who caught my cab?”

  “You saw her? Did she say anything?”

  “I didn’t see her. My driver got the call and said something along the lines of this being his lucky day, because he had a woman to pick up next door. I almost fell out of the car. You never bring women here. The deal liaison?”

  “I need coffee.”

  She wandered over to his machine and did the honors. “You must feel pretty strongly about her, to invite her to your house.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her to mind her own business, but what popped out instead was, “I love her.” His heart took a minute to resume beating after that confession, but the words—and the truth behind them—rang in his ears. He didn’t just want more from Chelsea. He wanted all.

  “Oh my God!” She spun and treated him to a huge smile, but then her expression sobered. “So what happened? Why’d she leave?”

  “It’s complicated, Arden. I had a strategy—”

  “Strategy.” She rolled her eyes. “You are definitely your father’s son.”

  He dropped into one of the tall stools around the island, and scrubbed his hand over his face. “We both walked into this with certain rules in place, and now I want to break every single one. Hell, I want to shatter them, but breaking and shattering seemed like bad tactics. I thought we should ease into it.”

  A sharp stare, disconcertingly similar to his own, skewered him. “Define ‘ease into it’?” She made air quotes around the words.

  “I don’t know. Just…” He trailed off, unsure how to phrase things. This was his little sister, after all. But she saved him the trouble.

  “Holy crap, Rafe. What the hell did you propose?”

  He winced and looked down at the counter. The flecks and grains in the granite formed an infinite variety of patterns. A question mark. A man walking off a cliff. The word “ass.” “I said I’d come to Maui once a quarter—give or take.”

  “What?”

  “Look, I know how it sounds now, in the light of day, okay?” He stood and stalked over to the fridge, then paced back to where he’d started. “At the time, I thought, ‘Just get the fuck out from under the hard stop imposed by the close of the deal. Get her to agree to keep us going, and then…whatever it took. Ratchet the frequency up until something had to give.’”

  “Amazing.” She shook her head and looked at him as if he were a lost cause. “Hard to believe she didn’t jump at your proposition.”

  “Shut up.” He stared out the window at the waves.

  “You know, all that breaking and shattering you wanted to avoid goes by another name.”

  He exhaled slowly, and braced his forearms on the island. He’d fucked up. He’d fallen short. And he knew it. Putting the right label on the mess wouldn’t improve a damn thing. “Do the semantics matter?”

  “They do.” She crossed the room and propped herself on the other side of the island, opposite him, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “It’s called laying your heart on the line. It’s where you drop the games and strategies, and tell the other person how you feel.”

  “In the language of negotiation, that’s called the all-or-nothing approach. It’s generally considered a risky move.”

  She smiled up at him. “Good thing you like to take risks.”

  Chelsea pulled her rental car into an open parking space near the address Laurie had given her. She raised her sunglasses to her forehead, and riffled through the file folder on her passenger seat until she found the small white envelope tucked between the freshly signed contracts for the sale of Tradewinds. Her hands shook as she opened the envelope, and her breath caught at the sight of all the zeroes on her bonus check. Fifty thousand dollars. Despite all the upheaval of the last twenty-four hours, she smiled. Sure, she’d failed miserably at guarding her heart, and her fresh start was an epic fail, but she’d accomplished one important goal.

  Clutching the check, she got out of the car and walked the few steps to the empty storefront with the For Lease sign in the window. She squinted against the noon sun and paused to take in the view. Across the street a row of tall palms swayed in the breeze, marking the transition from sidewalk to sand. Beyond, the Pacific glittered in all its cool, blue Montenido glory. When she pictured the ocean, she always pictured this.

  Home.

  And the perfect spot for the new improved Babycakes Bakery. Time to do her part to make it happen. She smoothed her white blouse and red pencil skirt—the outfit she’d packed in deference to Valentine’s Day—and realized she’d chosen the exact same outfit she’d worn on her infamous final day at Las Ventanas. Nice job, Chelsea. When it comes to repeating past mistakes, you get all the details right.

  Too many memories threatened. She turned quickly and headed for the door, but it swung open before she reached it. Laurie burst out onto the sidewalk and enveloped Chelsea in a tight hug. “I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

  Chelsea wrapped her arms around her best friend and returned the hug, blinking quickly when her eyelids started to prickle. “It’s good to see you too.”

  Laurie eased away and gave her a stern look. “Don’t cry on me. If you start, I’ll start, and I’m almost as ugly a crier as you.”

  “I won’t.” She forced her lips into a smile. “No crying. Not when we have something important to celebrate.” She held up the bonus check and danced it in front of Laurie’s face. “A Valentine’s Day surprise for you. I hear there’s a great opportunity to invest in a local business. I want in.”

  “Oh my God, you did it!” Blond curls bounced as Laurie jumped up and down, and then hugged her again. Just as suddenly, she stopped and pinned Chelsea with a serious look. “This is a lot of money, and I know how hard you worked to earn it. You sure you want to risk it on me?”

  “I want to invest it in you,” she corrected. “I don’t see a lot of risk. Babycakes thrived right up until the day it burned down. You know what you’re doing. You’ll have it thriving again in no time.”

  “We’ll have it thriving again. You pay in, I insist on making you a partner.” She held out her hand. “Deal?”

  Chelsea shook on it. “Deal.” A small, humor-challenged laugh escaped her. “Good timing for me considering I’m soon to be unemployed
again.”

  “Unemployed? I thought you were winging off to Tahiti next.”

  “I thought so too, but when I met with the Templetons this morning, and they started discussing the new resort, I just…” She trailed off and stared at the ocean. “I couldn’t go through with it. I don’t want to move to Tahiti. I don’t want to stay in Maui. I miss Montenido. All I really want to do is come home.” She exhaled the confession, faced her friend, and prepared for one more. “When it comes to fresh starts, I fail.”

  “How can you say that? If you don’t want to move to Tahiti, don’t move to Tahiti, but I count at least fifty thousand reasons you’re not a failure.” Hazel eyes flashed, but then clouded as they slowly assessed her. “Come on.” Laurie took her arm, pulled her into the empty store, and gave her the patented Laurie Peterson take-no-bullshit stare. “Okay, tell me what’s really going on, partner.”

  “I figured on being a silent partner.”

  “Nice try, but no. Not when you’re standing there like the answer to my prayers and calling yourself a failure. How have you failed?”

  Sunbeams streamed through the twin front windows, revealing the weathered wood walls and floor of what Chelsea remembered as an art gallery. Dust floated in the columns of light, weightless and careless, and in stark contrast to her heavy thoughts. “I knew the rules. I told myself I wanted nothing from Rafe except fun, attraction, and great sex, and then I went and fell in love with him. I didn’t guard my heart.”

  “Oh, honey.” Laurie squeezed her arms. “Maybe he won it, fair and square?”

  “No. He wasn’t even trying for it.” She sank her fingers into her hair and pulled it back from her face, letting the slight tug in her scalp offset the pain in her chest. “That’s the most pathetic part. Rafe never led me down a false path. He was very upfront about what he wanted, and what he had to offer. He didn’t promise more.”

  “Have you asked for more?”

  “I don’t need to ask. I got a very clear answer last night when he proposed we take up where we left off whenever he’s in Maui.”

  “That’s not good-bye.”

  Chelsea resumed staring out the window. “It’s not a commitment either, and I can’t settle for less and still respect myself. It’s not Rafe’s fault. He’s not a bad person, and he’s not trying to hurt me, and he didn’t ask me to fall in love with him. I did that all on my own.” She kicked the toe of her red sling-back against the scarred wood baseboard. “That’s why I say my fresh start is a failure. You told me to guard my heart, but I’m too much of a lost cause to follow good advice.”

  She heard Laurie approach, and then felt the weight of her friend’s arm around her shoulders. “We’re quite a pair, you know?”

  Chelsea leaned her head against Laurie’s shoulder. “How do you figure?”

  “You can’t guard your heart, and I can’t stop guarding mine.”

  She raised her head and looked at her friend. “I’d rather be like you. It’s less painful.”

  “No.” Laurie sighed. “I’m beginning to think it’s just a chicken-shit way of not getting hurt, but here’s the really bad news. It doesn’t work.”

  A surprising admission, considering Laurie rarely acknowledged anyone had the power to hurt her.

  “At any rate, guarding your heart doesn’t involve denying honest feelings,” she continued. “Your love is valuable. Treating something so valuable like a dirty secret sells you short. Dig up some courage and tell him how you feel. Maybe he feels the same way.”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “Maybe he doesn’t,” Laurie conceded with a tilt of her head, “but he hasn’t played you, and he’s earned your honesty. You both deserve that much.”

  “All right.” She flattened a hand against her middle, hoping to release the knot in her stomach. “At the very least, I owe him an apology for running out this morning like I did.” She glanced at her watch. “I’m due at Las Ventanas to collect final signatures on the sale agreements. Afterward, I’ll ask for five minutes to apologize and then I’ll just”—she made a sweeping gesture with her hands—“lay my heart at his feet.”

  “Atta girl. And remember, you’re the prize.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Rafe held the door to the meeting room open for Arden and their father. From the corner of his eye he saw another figure come around the corridor and step into the hall. Chelsea. He turned to his father. “Call Vanessa on the Polycom. She’ll put us into the conference with the rest of the board.”

  “May I prepare a cup of coffee for you as well?”

  Luc’s dry remark barely registered. “Thanks,” he said, and started down the hall, his attention on Chelsea. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, but you know my vote. You have my proxy if you need to make the motion without me.”

  Her steps slowed as he closed the distance between them. He read apprehension in her big brown eyes.

  “Miss Wayne, a moment of your time before the meeting?”

  She fiddled with the legal-sized manila envelope clasped in her hands. “Yes. Certainly, Mr. St. Sebastian.” She looked right, then left, then back at him. “Where did you have in mind?”

  A door swung open to his left, and a maid stepped into the corridor holding an armful of table linens.

  “Here.” He caught the door before it closed, and held it open for her. “Step into my office.”

  She hesitated, and gave him an odd look. Did she want him to go in first? He walked in, and found himself in the supply closet where they’d first met. Fine by him. He considered their first meeting a screaming success, aside from the part when she’d called him Paul.

  “Chelsea!”

  Speak of the devil. Barrington’s voice sailed down the hall. She turned, paled, and dodged his attempt at a hug, but the evasive maneuver didn’t send any hints to the man. “You came back. I knew you would. We need to talk.” He took her arm, stepped into the closet, and pulled her in as well.

  “Work brought me back to Las Ventanas, Paul. I’m not here for you.”

  “But—” Barrington spotted him. “What are you doing here?”

  Rafe drew in a breath to tell Barrington to get the hell out, but before he could speak Arden appeared at the door. She stuck out her hand. “You must be Chelsea. I’m Rafe’s sister, Arden. I’ve been dying to meet you.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Chelsea shook her hand, as if closet introductions occurred every day.

  “Chelsea—” Barrington attempted to interrupt, but another voice broke in.

  “What is going on?”

  Arden grinned. “Hi Dad.”

  Luc took the weight of the door from Arden and peered into the closet. “My memo did not arrive.”

  “What memo?” Rafe asked.

  “The one announcing you’d relocated our meeting to a closet.”

  A beat of silence followed, and then people started speaking at once.

  “Please give me another chance. I’m miserable with Cindy—”

  “—Dad, this is Chelsea.”

  “Ah, our deal liaison. Finally we meet—”

  And there it went, the end of his patience. “Enough!” Rafe barked, loud enough to silence everyone. He pressed his thumb to the space between his eyes, where a headache drummed. “Barrington, you’re fired.”

  “What? You can’t be serious.”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?” He spared the man a glower, and then turned to Chelsea. “We’d like to offer you the job of general manager of Las Ventanas.”

  “Her answer is no—”

  “Shut up, Paul.” He and Chelsea said the words at the same time. Barrington frowned and snapped his mouth closed.

  “We’ll double your current salary,” Luc tossed in.

  “It’s a very attractive offer, but—”

  “Before you answer, you should know there’s one string attached, and it’s non-negotiable.”

  “Merde,” his father cursed and shook his head. “This is no strategy.”

&
nbsp; He didn’t give a fuck. “The string is me. I won’t keep this thing between us in the closet anymore. I want—”

  “Not what you want,” Arden whispered. “How you feel.”

  “I feel like I want everybody out of here. You”—he pointed at Barrington—“empty your office. Now.”

  Barrington sputtered for a moment, then turned and stormed out of the closet.

  “Arden, Dad, please go get the board call started.”

  Arden stood her ground. “The call won’t take long. There are only two agenda items.”

  “Two? I count one—authorize the Tradewinds deal.”

  “Two,” his father confirmed. “Approve the purchase and appoint my successor as chairman. You’re recused from the second vote, as you’re the nominee.”

  “Our agreement was three acquisitions, closed and integrated.”

  Luc’s eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “Are you trying to talk me out of my decision? What is the problem? Are you not ready?”

  Hell, no. “I’m ready.”

  “Yes. I believe you are, which is why I scheduled the vote for today.”

  What timing. His father was handing him the goal he’d been jumping through hoops for, but he could barely focus on the triumph. “I’m honored, Dad. Let me know how the vote turns out. Now, if you don’t mind…” He ushered Luc and Arden out of the closet. “I have other business to resolve.”

  “Clearly, yes. I advise you to—”

  “Private business,” he said firmly, and slammed the door in his father’s face.

  “Rafe, you need to join your call,” Chelsea said softly from behind him. “You’re in the middle of important matters. We can talk later.”

  “No.” He took her arms and pulled her close, until he could feel her breath against his lips. “You are my most urgent priority. We talk now. The rest is going to barrel on without me anyway.”

  “But…it’s everything you worked for. Everything you want.”