Page 19 of Forbidden Hawaiian Nights
‘I cope.’
Two words signalling the end of the conversation. He didn’t look irritated. He looked bored.
A door had been slammed in her face, and she couldn’t blame him, because commenting on his private life was way out of order.
He was her boss and her role was to liaise with him about the hotel, end of story. Her role was not to make wise proclamations about his life choices. She wasn’t a landscape gardener turned shrink!
Her cheeks stung and she looked away, and with relief realised that they were nearing her house. She’d barely noticed the journey. She’d barely noticed her soaked clothes or her foot!
The driver was out of the car as soon as he’d killed the engine, umbrella at the ready. Max moved with similar alacrity, removing all chance of her taking a stand and trying to hobble to the door unaided.
In fact, her feet weren’t allowed to touch the ground at all. Swept off her feet twice in a day, Mia thought with a touch of mild hysteria, and not in the way she’d ever imagined it happening.
‘It’s in the front pocket,’ she muttered, before he could ask her where the house key was, and he duly located it and pushed open the door.
‘I’ll call you when I’m ready,’ he said to the driver, who nodded and returned to the car.
The rain followed them through the open door, but then Max slammed it shut, and it became a steady, noisy beating against the roof and walls.
This was not how he had imagined the day panning out. Of course, it was essential that he had a walk through with her. Not only was she knowledgeable when it came to the accounts system but her main job involved the outside space, the land, and he needed to have an idea of how she intended to utilise the space. When he had discussed the hotel with his sister well over a year ago when it had been in the embryonic stage, he had suggested an infinity pool and all the various outdoor luxuries that came with that, including a state-of-the-art bar nestled among the trees where cocktails and drinks could be served on a more or less non-stop basis.
All those ideas had gone down the drain, so it was necessary to know exactly what was destined to replace it, because the financial projections were all over the place.
Yes, this was a necessary trip, but even so he had been studiously putting it off.
Just having her sit at the other end of that boardroom table had been a challenge.
He’d been aware of her in ways that made a joke of his legendary self-control. He’d had to conduct most of his conversations on the phone, with his chair angled in such a way that she was just on the periphery of his vision, because every time he’d looked at her—her, head downbent, chin propped in the palm of her hand, her brown hair falling to one side—he’d had to fight against getting a hard-on.
It was crazy, and he didn’t like himself for it, but he hadn’t been able to do a thing about it. If he could have shouted questions across the table, he would have, but she’d had to edge next to him to stare at the same facts and figures on the same computer and her proximity had been great at messing with his head.
He wanted her. That was what it came down to. She was off-limits, but he wanted her, and the more he tried to ignore the tug at his senses the harder the tug was.
So he had deferred the inevitable trip to the hotel, and he certainly hadn’t envisaged a sudden torrential downpour bringing him to this place, in her house, with her in his arms.
She was as light as a feather. He could have lifted her with one hand. And was she aware that the way those wet clothes clung…?
He’d fought to stop himself from staring. He knew that he’d reacted somewhat more aggressively than the occasion demanded when she had fallen and done whatever she’d done to her foot.
Had he really said something about getting a doctor because he had to protect himself against a possible lawsuit?
He had opened the door wide to her comments about the way he lived his life. Not her business, and he could definitely care less, but she had got under his skin and he wasn’t sure whether that was because he was just so hyper-aware of her or because she insisted on ignoring all the Do Not Trespass signs everyone else managed to read very clearly.
She got to him in every way, and now here he was. In her house.
He looked around him and headed in the direction of the bedroom, while she remained passive in his arms, clearly having given up on fighting him. He could feel her warmth radiating beyond the wet clothes, the softness of her legs and the slightness of her body.
She was so natural—so lacking in any artifice. There was no make-up for the rain to wash away.
Never had he been more aware of his body or more alert to the temptation to hold her close, keep holding her, kiss her, touch her…
‘You need to change,’ he said abruptly.
He looked around him at her small house, with lots of wood and a feeling of homeliness. He’d glanced at the kitchen as he’d walked past and had seen colourful cupboards and an old pine table. The furniture in the living room was squashy and mismatched and the overhead fan was desultory. Here, in the bedroom, the double bed was covered with some kind of old-fashioned patchwork quilt, and there was a rocking chair by the window that overlooked a very pretty, panoramic view of shrubs and flowers and, in the distance, sand leading down to the sea.
The rain continued to pelt against the windows. If it hadn’t been raining, and if night hadn’t begun creeping in, casting long, dark shadows, Max was pretty sure he would have been able to hear the roll of the sea through the windows and see a blaze of stars in the sky.
Never one to get swept up in appreciating the scenery, he was momentarily disconcerted. He looked round to see her rising to her feet and he shook his head.
