As soon as I finished making the excuse my phone buzzed in my pocket. I slipped it out and saw that it was a text from Isla—almost as if she’d sensed that I was thinking about her.
“Hey! Going to get ready now. I’ll meet you down in the lobby in an hour?”
I replied with an affirmative and let my phone drop back into my pocket. An hour should give me plenty of time to get my head right.
I prepared a cup of coffee, doing my best to turn my attention from Isla to the work that I’d been sent there to do.
The conditions at the factory had been awful. I couldn’t quite believe that I was at the helm of a company that would subject workers to such an environment. My decision to send them all home for the holidays with pay might’ve been rash, but I didn’t regret it in the slightest. If the board wanted to throw a fit about the holiday pay and bonuses, I’d be happy to have it out with them. Hell, I’d pay out of my own pocket if I had to.
And I wondered how Edward was going to take it. He was a careful man, very methodical. If it were up to him, he’d have flown back to California and spent a good week or so thinking over the matter before coming to any major decisions. I respected this way of doing things, but sometimes immediate action was necessary.
I had no doubt this had been one of those times. The relief on the faces of Pedro and the rest of the team made it clear that they’d been beyond happy to hear my decision. And I was pleased to know that in a few days’ time the workers would be refreshed and relaxed from the holidays, a little extra money in their pocket and a more comfortable work environment to return to.
After finishing my coffee, I slipped out of my clothes, took a brief shower, and changed into a clean button-down and slacks. I finished just in time to receive another text from Isla, letting me know she was about to head down.
I was ready for some fun. Some good food, maybe a stroll through the nearby village, possibly even a drink or two—it sounded just right. And having Isla at my side made it all the more appealing.
But it wasn’t a date. Just a couple of coworkers getting to know one another and enjoying some time away from the office.
When I was ready I grabbed my things and headed down, stepping out of the elevator and into the grand lobby of the hotel.
“Hey!”
The bright, cheerful voice could only have belonged to Isla. I turned in her direction and it took all the restraint I had to stay cool.
She looked incredible. She wasn’t wearing anything outlandishly fancy—a light blue blouse, a pair of well-fitting jeans, and some nice sneakers. But something about the way she looked in that moment, bathed in the light of the sunset that poured in through the windows, took my breath away.
“Hey,” I replied, not able to get out another word.
This was strange, I realized. I’d dated—if you want to call it that—plenty of women over the years. But I couldn’t remember the last time one had been able to cast a spell on me the way Isla had in that moment.
What was going on?
I didn’t have too much time to think about it before she strolled over to me, all smiles.
“You’re looking dapper this evening,” she said, taking my collar in her fingers and giving it a gentle tug.
“And you’re looking…” I trailed off, trying to find the most appropriate word. She looked lovely, beautiful, stunning—but none of those were exactly the most professional adjectives to use. “…Chipper.”
Not sure how I settled on that one, but there it was.
Isla cocked her head to the side and gave a half-smile.
“Chipper?” she said. “Never been called that before, but I’ll take it.”
It was embarrassing. Sure, I’d stumbled because I hadn’t wanted to say anything inappropriate. But the way she’d made me trip over my words…
“Anyway,” I said. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” she said with a smile.
Together we strode through the arched doors of the hotel and out onto the city streets. The scene was as bustling as it had been earlier, the road packed with cars and trucks and bikes, the sidewalks full of pedestrians. The air was mild and pleasant, and the scent of the city was tinged with something fresh and lovely.
And more than that there were Christmas decorations everywhere, reminding all that despite the warm air and lack of snow, it was still the holiday season.
Together Isla and I started down the sidewalk, weaving through the throngs of people and taking a few turns until we were off the main road. Once the crowds had eased up and the noise of the traffic was more tolerable, we actually had a chance to speak.
“So,” I said. “Any regrets?”
“About coming along?” she asked.
She shook her head, her auburn hair bouncing slightly on her shoulders.
“Not even a little,” she said. “That was…a lot to take in at the factory. But we’re doing important work here. What’s going on needed to be taken care of, right?”
“Right,” I said. “And I’m only upset at the fact that I’d waited so long to be on top of it.”
“And what you said, about being more appreciative—I’ll never get frustrated by a long day at the office ever again.”
Another charming smile followed.
We continued on, taking in the sights and smells of the small marketplace we’d ended up in. Vendors were closing up for the day, putting away their fresh fruit and just-cut meats and preparing to settle in for the holiday. The sight of all the food on display made my stomach grumble, reminding me that I hadn’t had a bite to eat since that morning.
“You—”
“Hungry?” she finished.
“Great minds,” I said, grinning.
“Or hungry stomachs.”
I scanned our immediate surroundings, looking for something appealing. There was no shortage of restaurants in the nearby area, all still open for Christmas Eve dinner. The only question was deciding on one.
“Come on,” said Isla. “Let’s check them out.”
Together we strolled down the block, peeking into the front windows and seeing what kind of fare each place offered. All of the choices looked so delicious, it was hard to decide.
“How about this one?” Isla asked, pointing to a restaurant across the street.
I couldn’t tell what she was looking at specifically. But before I had a chance to ask, she was already off, crossing the street and stopping at the front of a humble-looking restaurant. When I caught up to her, I checked out the inside, spotting what appeared to be a family-run place. An older man was in the kitchen, a woman about his age running the bar, and a pretty teenaged girl zipping around to the few tables with customers. A pair of younger kids playing near the back completed the scene.
“I’ve always thought that the best way to know if a place is good is if they’re family-owned and have kids running around,” she said.
“Works for me.”
I opened the door and let her in first. The scent of the place hit me immediately—the wonderful aroma of cooking meats mixed with something fresh and fruity. I’d been hungry before, but this pushed me over the edge into famished territory.
The hostess, who appeared to be the chef’s wife, greeted us with a smile and a “Feliz Natal”—“Merry Christmas” in Portuguese—and led us to a cozy table near the front window. The view looked out over the bustling street, the sunset even more dramatic than it had been earlier.
The teenaged waitress approached, just as friendly as her mother, and explained to us in surprisingly good English the specials for the evening. The roasted pork called out to me, and Isla went with the fish. The chef was kind enough to stop by the table, introduce himself, and recommend some good wine pairings. Moments later a bottle of delicious red was cracked open and the two of us were holding our glasses up for a toast.
“To the strangest Christmas ever,” Isla said with a smile.
“I’ll drink to that.”
We tapped our glasses and sipped,
the wine rich and delicious with a hint of spice. Moments later a small plate of coxinha—teardrop-shaped chicken croquettes—was placed on the table.
“I have to say,” said Isla as she washed down her first bite with a glass of wine. “That was impressive at the factory today.”
“How do you mean?” I asked.
“You were fearless,” she said. “You saw that something was wrong and you did the right thing and fixed it—no hesitation.”
“Hesitation is the first thing you learn to get rid of in this line of work,” I said. “A decision presents itself and you pick one choice, go with it, and never look back.”
“And that’s what you’re doing now?” she asked. “Not looking back?”
“Not even a little.”
“Not even if the board gets mad at you?”
I shrugged.
“This is how I see it,” I said. “You make decisions based upon your character, right? Based upon what sort of person you are, what kinds of values you have.”
“Sure,” she said.
“So,” I went on. “Something I’ve learned is that if you make a decision—a hard and final one—you’re going to make some people happy, and some people upset.”
“Sounds about right.”
“And if someone disagrees with a decision, that means they disagree with the values you hold—which means that they’re someone you’re not compatible with.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So in this example,” I said after popping another appetizer into my mouth and swallowing it down. “I did what I felt was right. More than that, I know it’s the first step in turning that factory around. If I go back to the States and certain members of the bored are pissed off at my call, well…”
“You know that they’re not your people.”
“Exactly,” I said. “After all, it takes a certain kind of person to think it’s a good idea to make employees toil in those kinds of conditions—and over the holiday no less.”
Isla shook her head at the idea of it.
“I felt so bad for them,” she said. “And I’m so glad you did what you did.”
“See?” I said with a smile. “I made a decision and I found my people.”
Her face lit up.
“Well, Mr. Forde,” she said. “I’m very, very happy to be one of your people.”
“The feeling is mutual, Ms. Marten.”
Chapter 10
Isla
I took one last bite of the bolo de rolo, letting the sweet, delicious pastry linger on my tongue for a moment before eagerly chewing it. Then I set my fork down and I was done.
“Okay!” I said, raising my hands in defeat. “That’s it—all done.”
“You sure?” asked Adam with a smile. “We could work our way down the dessert menu, try a little bit of everything.”
“How about you can and I watch,” I said.
“I just might,” he said with a grin.
The dinner had been amazing. The wine, the food, the company—all of it had added up to easily being one of the most memorial nights of my life.
“So,” said Adam, his glass of wine held in front of his broad chest. “Good Christmas so far?”
“Amazing,” I said. “One of the best I’ve had in years. And it’s not even the actual day.”
“That’s right,” he said. “We’re not due back until the day after Christmas. I wanted to give the aircrew the holiday off.”
“In keeping with the theme,” I said.
“Naturally.”
“And the factory’s closed,” I said. “So that means no work. I mean, I’m sure I can find something to do if you need me to—”
I felt a tinge of panic as I spoke, fearing that I’d come off as lazy. But Adam beat me to it, raising his palm and signaling for me to calm down.
“No work,” he said. “That’s the only rule. We’ve got great suites in the hotel, and everything’s on the company. You want to explore the city, go for it. You want to chill out and watch TV while room service waits on you, do it.”
Both options sounded great. But strangely, the only thing I really wanted at that moment was to spend the day with…him.
I stopped the thought dead in its tracks, my eyes going wide.
“You okay over there?” he asked.
I quickly cleared my throat.
“Yeah,” I said. “Fine. I think I’m ready to get moving, though. A walk after a good meal is always nice.”
“Totally agree,” he said.
He flagged down our waitress and quickly took care of the bill. After one more sip of wine, the two of us were off, the family wishing us a final “Feliz Natal” before we headed back out onto the city streets.
The evening was well on at this point, the sky a deep black above. We were far enough away from the city proper that it was even possible to catch a few glimpses of starlight above. It was so peaceful, so perfect.
And as we walked my eyes kept flicking down to Adam’s arm. I hated to admit it, but all I could think about was how wonderful it’d be to have him wrap it around me and pull me close, for me to rest my head on his shoulder.
How the hell was it possible that I was feeling this way about a man I’d only just met? Sure, he was handsome and kind and confident and charming, and I was pretty sure he’d been flirting with me all the way through dinner…
I groaned internally as I realized I’d answered my own question. But even in my distracted mind, I knew that anything happening between us was a bad, bad idea. And not even likely—surely he had his pick of women to date. Why would he choose me out of all of them?
He’s just being nice, I thought. Maybe he can smell on me the fact that my dating life is totally nonexistent, and he’s taking pity on me by throwing me some attention.
I dismissed that thought, deciding I was being far too negative. But still, I’d been out of the dating game for so long I’d been starting to feel like I was totally out of practice.
Practice, I thought. That’s the best way to look at it. I’m hanging out with one of the most gorgeous and eligible bachelors in the city. If I can keep it cool with him, I can keep it cool with any guy. Right? Just look at it as a baby step back into dating.
A knot in my stomach loosened a little at this thought. Nothing was going to happen between the two of us, as nice as the idea sounded, so why subject myself to any pressure? It’d be enough to enjoy the food and the wine and the sights and the smells and everything else. And the lovely company was the cherry on top.
As we turned a corner I glanced up at Adam. He had that expression on his face that I loved, the one that let me know he was in the middle of some serious thinking. And maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the change of scenery, but I was more than curious to know what was on his mind.
I opened my mouth to speak, but before did I heard the low buzz of a cell phone.
Adam reached into his pocket and took out his phone. As he read what was on the screen, he stopped where he stood, a small smile forming on his lips.
“What is it?” I asked.
“One of the board members,” he said. “Letting me know that the news of what we did here today has reached home.”
We. Both fear and excitement in equal measures ran through me at the notion of me being a part of this.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “Whatever happens here is on me. You’re not going to be on the hook if Mr. Corliss decides this is something worth blowing his top over.”
And again, before I had a chance to say anything else, Adam’s phone buzzed. Then it buzzed again, then again. This was no text—it was a phone call.
“Uh-oh,” he said. “It’s the big man himself.”
My blood went cold. Sure, Adam had assured me that he would take full responsibility, that I wouldn’t face any consequences. But knowing that the phone call buzzing in Adam’s hand right at that moment was the freaking boss of the company, one of the richest and most powerful men in California—hell, the entire country—was en
ough to make my head spin.
But instead of answering, Adam hit “silent” and dropped the phone back into his pocket.
“What?” I asked, shocked. “Aren’t you…”
He shook his head.
“Nah,” he said. “Didn’t you hear what I said back at the factory? No working over Christmas for Corliss employees. And the last time I checked, I was one of those.”
“Isn’t…isn’t he going to be mad?”
“He’ll be fine,” he said. “Edward’s not the type to blow his top over an unanswered call—too cool and calm and composed for that sort of thing. You and I are going to finish our night out, and he’s just going to have to wait.”
There he was again—so calm and fearless. It was admirable. It made me wonder if there was anything that could shake this guy.
And more than that, I was kind of excited about it. Adam had really made his boss wait so he could have a nice night with me? What did that mean?
“Anyway,” he said, gesturing forward. “Let’s go.”
We continued on, but I couldn’t shake what had just happened.
“I mean,” I said. “I guess you could tell him that the reception was crappy.”
Adam shook his head.
“I’m not big on lying like that,” he said. “Better to be straight with people. I’d simply tell him that I was busy with an employee and getting ready to take the holiday off.”
More admirable behavior. I began to feel a little silly about suggesting a lie.
“But let’s really start the holiday break by taking the subject of work off the table.”
“That’s more than fine with me,” I said. “But…what do you want to talk about?”
“How about you?” he asked, not hesitating in the slightest.
The same feeling of embarrassment that arrived whenever I became the subject took hold.
“You want to talk about me?” I asked. “There’s nothing really to talk about.”
“I doubt that’s true,” he said. “How about what you do for fun? Hobbies?”
“Does ‘work’ count?”
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