The start of a walking path?
Cole moves behind me, so close his heat adds to the balmy air.
揑t抯 not far now. Watch your step. The rocks are raised up a bit, almost like steps.?He moves ahead of me to the next stone and holds a hand out.
I grasp it, feeling his strong fingers wrapping around mine as he helps me up. We repeat this until we抮e heading up a small elevation.
The stones get bigger, flatter, and soon we抮e on the highest stone that抯 big enough to hold two people.
揌ave a seat, Miss Angelo.?He never let go of my hand. He抯 still holding on tight as he guides us forward, stopping just where the stone touches another large, ancient-looking banyan tree.
Through the roots and greenery, there抯 a faint window to the ocean quietly lapping the shore.
We sit down, stretching our legs over the edge.
A few distant birds call, new sounds I抳e never heard before, and lovely enough to be in a fantasy movie.
So, this is why people rave about Hawaii.
I抦 transfixed, staring out at a vast ocean and a beautiful forest in the same view. It stretches on as far as the eye can see.
Cole points to the edge of the forest. 揝ee where those lower bushes start in the distance? That抯 all a hundred percent Kona coffee.?
揙h, wow,?I whisper, accidentally squeezing his hand.
He doesn抰 let go.
揙ut of all the Kona coffee plants, only a few rare bushes produce peaberry beans,?he says, his gaze sharpening.
揚eaberry beans? Aren抰 those crazy expensive? I have to admit I haven抰 worked with them much.?I抦 not sure why I blurt that out, but it抯 true.
They cost more than your average bean, even by pricey Kona bean standards.
I抦 gobsmacked that he even has his own supply. I doubt that they actually go into any Wired Cup products.
揟hen you know why they抮e so rare and highly sought,?he tells me. 揟hey抮e delicate, refined, and delicious. With Kona peaberries, there抯 always that added sweetness. And that抯 exactly why they抮e a natural choice for Brock Winthrope抯 discerning tastes.?
揙h, so that抯 what you抮e planning to serve up at the resorts??I nod. There抯 no denying it抯 the perfectly exquisite and exclusive rich person抯 coffee. 揝ounds like a coffee snob抯 wet dream.?
He snorts. 揂nd just what would you know about that??
I scratch my suddenly hot cheek, ignoring his question. 揂re you sure you still want it modeled on the new drinks? I mean, a peaberry campfire brew seems almost like a waste of that beautiful bean.?
揧ou抮e not wasting anything, Eliza. You抮e enhancing it.?
For a second, my breath stalls.
I think he抯 just as shocked that he slipped and said my first name.
揊orgive me棓 he starts.
揘o. We can drop Miss Angelo. If I call you Lump, it抯 less stuffy and formal if you just call me Eliza.?
揈liza,?he repeats with a touch of reverence. 揑f that抯 what you prefer...?
Holy hell.
I shudder. Is it just my imagination or do those vivid blue eyes match the ocean murmuring in the distance?
I抦 lost in his gaze until a familiar scent makes my nostrils flare.
Is that梱eah. Definitely coffee.
The smell wafts in, mingling with the sea breeze like natural incense.
Also, there抯 hints of citrus and a strong undertone, almost like leather?
Wait. I抦 smelling Cole.
The faint sheen of sweat in this climate mingled with the trade winds must release more of his dangerously alluring scent.
Either that, or I抦 too well aware of it now. I抳e got to get back to my room before I do something hilariously stupid.
The drug-like effect this man has on me should be illegal.
揂nd I bet you抣l be blowing up my inbox with all kinds of peaberry details soon??I say with an awkward smile. 揋uess I抎 better go sleep off that jet lag...?
I start to stand, but my legs are wobbly. I slip.
But Cole springs to his feet, catching me effortlessly before I skid off the stone surface.
Yikes. Here we go again.
His arms feel good around me, holding me up. The back of my head lies against his chest, and soon I抳e got a lungful of badly behaved bossman.
I抦 flipping shaking, and it has nothing to do with losing my balance.
Very slowly, I lift my head and meet his eyes.
I don抰 make any effort to pull away梐nd I should.
...right?
He chuckles, this low, pleasant sound that makes the birdsongs sound like a crude reverb. 揢nderstandable. I抣l need your full attention tomorrow. Let me walk you back to the house, and do tell the staff if there抯 anything they can do to help you settle in. For this job, I need you at your best.?
I know what I need, what every bit of me keeps screaming for.
A mystery man built like a Roman statue and cursed with the soul of Jekyll and Hyde. That would be a fantastic way to scratch the itch in my lady bits.
But I抦 guessing his house staff can抰 help me there.
Since I can抰 speak, I just smile at him.
For a heady moment, we linger, until I finally move again, stretching my legs out.
We silently start descending from the rocks, taking them carefully one at a time.
I know exactly what I need to do.
Get back to my room and pray the plumbing delivers a cold shower. A very long, very ice-cold shower.
Cole climbs down the rocks behind me, his eyes glued to me the whole time. Is he just looking out for me or does he like what he sees in front of him?
I hate that I wonder.
揧ou don抰 have to come. I think I know the way from here,?I say, after pushing my way through the curtain of banyan trees again.
He laughs. 揂nd risk you falling before tomorrow抯 meeting? No. Someone has to keep you vertical, woman. I don抰 trust your clumsy-ass feet.?
Damn this man.
I want to tell him it抯 not necessary梠r at least respond with some equally stupid retort ending in Commander Coffee. But all I can do is laugh.
I walk to the grassy hill feeling dizzy, hungry, and slightly overheated. But before I can waver too much, he takes my hand.
Cole Lancaster never lets go the entire way to the back door.
10
Bitter Cup (Cole)
I make an extra lap around the farm on the ATV the next morning, enjoying the pristine view and pleasant breeze.
Out here in the sunny hills with a pulsing green landscape handcrafted by God, it抯 easy to send your worries packing.
We抣l nail the perfect drink for Brock Winthrope. Dess will take a swim before we抮e on the plane home. And I won抰 explode from horrifying blue balls every time Eliza goddamned Angelo invades my personal space with her sweet scent and beaming caramel eyes that make me ache to ignite her.
Surrounded by this island beauty, I can almost believe all my wishes will come true.
If only I wasn抰 too aware that the picture-perfect beach behind my house is terribly deceptive.
When I start driving toward my place again, I抦 frowning.
Fun time抯 over. I抣l need to meet with my staff soon.
Coming closer to the side lot with the shed for ATVs, I spot a familiar face that pulls me deeper into the past.
Troy Clement, my old friend and sourcing head, in the flesh. He抯 bent down and stretching, wearing an oversized Hawaiian shirt with black-and-red fern leaves and running shoes. I park the ATV and jog up to him, slapping his arm.
揌ey, you castaway asshole. It抯 been forever.?
He turns, his lips curling into a shit-eating grin.
揅ole! Man, I can抰 remember the last time I was here, either. It抯 just as beautiful as ever梐lmost as sexy as Bali. You抮e looking good.?
No joke. Troy has the job any sane person would ever want. I could抳e had his life of travel if fate hadn抰 made me a single dad marooned in obligations and acid heartbreak.
揧ou抮e just heading out??I ask.
揘ope, I抦 wrapping up my workout. The flight here left my legs stiff as nails.?
Could抳e fooled me. There isn抰 a bead of sweat on the guy. That抯 Troy, though, always put together like solid granite no matter how much he complains.
揅ome with me to the meeting then. It抯 a rare chance for you to show off in person instead of over a screen,?I say.