His By Christmas

“None of my business. She’s off the clock.” He started at the beginning of the report. Again.

Almost immediately his attention wandered back outside to Justine’s trim, straight back. She’d changed from work clothes into cotton pants and a tank top for her foray into doing absolutely nothing. Although he recognized the fact that it was a beautiful setting—the crystal clear pool, wicker furniture with brightly colored cushions and the pristine white sand in front of the sea. The sun was setting and turning the underside of the wispy clouds orange, gold and purple. But she continued to do absolutely nothing, and that had him acutely curious.

He grabbed the crutches resting beside him and pulled himself up, then propped them beneath his arms and hobbled outside. There was an empty chair beside her and he lowered himself into it.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Not working.” She looked at him. “And neither are you, apparently.”

“I’m taking a break.” Ha. “So, seriously, what are you doing?”

“I’m looking at the sand, the ocean and that spectacular sunset.”

“I don’t mean this in a bad way—”

“Have you ever noticed that when someone says that, whatever comes next will not be positive reinforcement? It will be disapproving.”

Guilty, he thought, then barreled ahead anyway. “You’ve been looking at the view for a really long time.”

“It’s worth spending a lot of time on taking it all in.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s stunning. The beauty of nature fills up my soul.”

“Considering the length of your examination, can one assume your soul was that empty?”

The corners of her mouth curved up. “I’m filling the reserve tank. For tomorrow. You should try it.”

“So you think my soul is a quart low?”

“Judging by the defensiveness of your tone, I’d say that’s a very good possibility.”

“Are you always this mystical?” he asked.

“Are you always this nosy?” she countered.

“Maybe.”

“That’s a lot of negative energy. Why don’t you take in that magnificent view and think peaceful, healing thoughts?”

“What if I don’t—”

“Just give it a try,” she suggested.

“Okay.” He set the crutches on the cement patio beside him and rested his injured leg on the chair’s matching ottoman.

There was a refreshing breeze blowing off the ocean that gently rustled the nearby palm trees. The sun was an orange-yellow ball that seemed to be disappearing into the sea, and twilight crept closer, kept at bay by the villa’s outside lights. Cal let out a sigh as some of the tension left him. It really was a pretty place. But...

“Aren’t you getting bored?” he asked.

“No.”

“How can you just sit there?” He studied her delicate profile and the beautiful fiery-colored hair blowing off her face. “I know you said you’re filling up your soul, but how can you tell when it’s sufficiently topped off?”

She met his gaze and there was amusement in hers. “It takes longer when there are interruptions.”

“Do you set a timer?” he asked, warming to his cross-examination.

She ignored the question and stated the obvious. “You’re restless.”

“Because I’m not doing anything.”

“Letting your body rest and rejuvenate is actually doing something.”

“Doesn’t feel that way,” he grumbled.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you try counting your breaths? That will give you something to focus on.”

Besides her? When he could smell the scent of her skin in spite of the strong fragrance of tropical flowers and the sea all around? “Why would I want to focus on counting my breaths?”

“Inhale deeply,” she instructed without answering. “And let it out slowly. Then concentrate on the rising and falling of your chest. Up and down is one breath. Give it a try.”

“This is silly.”

“There you go,” she said. “I knew you would have an open mind.”

“You’re trying to spirit-shame me.”

“Is it working?” There was laughter in her voice.

“Yeah, kind of.”

“Good. Go with it.”

“Okay.” He did as instructed and drew in a deep breath, then released it and noted the rise and fall of his chest. “One... Two... Three...”

“Silent counting would be better,” she advised.

“Am I distracting you?”

“Yes.”

Right back at you, he thought. She was the personification of distraction. If being a diversion was part of an employee review, she would get very high marks. Now that he thought about it, she was pretty good at her job, too. She worked very hard and was incredibly efficient. His vacationing assistant should be worried about the competition.

That was a bluff. Shanna was excellent at what she did, and the best part was that when she was in the office, he never once thought about her any way but appropriately. Why was that? She was attractive, single, smart and funny. What combination of attributes made Justine such a challenge to his concentration?

The only thing he could come up with was that karma had a lousy sense of humor.

“You’ve been very quiet.” Justine finally broke the silence.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It’s what you needed,” she said mysteriously.

“That’s news to me. And it makes you sound like a Tibetan monk,” he added.

“It takes a while to get the hang of the technique in order to free your mind. But you did very well with the breathing.”

He laughed. “Breathing is easy. If you can’t do that, you’ve got bigger problems than filling up your soul.”

“I’ll make a convert of you yet. And I’ve got a month to do it.” Justine got up and used the outside entrance to go into her suite.

Cal watched her go and admired the sexy movement of her hips in spite of the slight limp. His pulse jumped and his mouth went dry. There was breathing and there was heavy breathing. Justine could easily push him in the second direction. He’d teased her and she gave it right back, but he wanted her and it wasn’t a joking matter.

This whole bet started when his brother needled him about his lack of a sex life. Right now the truth Cal had denied was painfully clear.

* * *

The next morning, Justine showered and got ready for work, still a little in awe of her suite and surroundings. She had as much connection to luxury on this scale as she did to a unicorn. Sand and sea were just steps away, for goodness’ sake. The man providing this villa was also just steps away and he presented a whole different scale of excess. She really didn’t know what to make of him.

When she’d lost her husband and little girl in the accident, it was the aloneness that nearly crushed her. Family and friends tried to help, but she had to fight through by herself. And she had, but there were reminders in Texas. When Hart Energy announced the move to Blackwater Lake, Justine looked at it as an opportunity for a change of scene and the chance to start a new life.

Physical therapy and yoga had helped heal her body and she’d resigned herself to being alone. Like last night on the patio. Then Cal had joined her and that had an effect. He’d actually attempted to master the conscious breathing technique. It was endearing, really.

Other than wanting everyone around him to work as hard as he did, the man was a good boss and very considerate. Too much of everything if she was being honest. Too handsome, funny, smart and sexy for any breathing technique she was aware of to relax her when he was nearby.

She studied her appearance in the bathroom mirror. “There’s only one thing to do. Work hard and forget he’s around.”

Except they didn’t work until after breakfast. Cal had given her the option of room service by herself, but having resort staff deliver two separate meals seemed excessive. When she walked into the villa’s main area, breakfast was being set out on the dining room table. He signed for it and the staff wheeled away the cart and left.

Leaning on his crutches, Cal looked everything over, then met her gaze. “Breakfast is served.”

“Good morning. It looks wonderful.”

“It would be even better if you ordered something besides oats and dried grapes.”

“Better known as raisins. And that’s granola to you. I happen to really like it.”

“You might want to consider expanding your culinary horizons.”

“I will,” she promised, then spotted the cup and saucer. There was steam wafting from the top. “Coffee. A girl could get used to this.”

He sat at the head of the table. “Are you telling me that at home no one has coffee waiting for you in the morning?”

Justine took the chair at a right angle to his, where the bowl of granola waited. “Are you really concerned about my coffee consumption habits? Or is that a not-so-subtle query into my personal life?”

He lifted the metal dome covering his scrambled eggs, potatoes and turkey sausage. “The brilliance of my question is that you can interpret it any way you’d like.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” he asked. “What does that mean?”

“It was either a noncommittal hmm, or a thinly veiled rebuke of your humility.”

“You think I’m not humble?”

“When you call yourself brilliant? Duh.” She couldn’t help laughing at him. “And, just so you know, I’m going to answer what was asked. I take full responsibility for my morning coffee needs. What about you? Does Jeeves grind beans and brew the perfect cup of joe for you?”

“There is no Jeeves,” he said. “I have no staff. A cleaning service comes in once a week to make the condo habitable.”

“Condo.” She poured almond milk into the bowl, then spooned up a bite of granola. After chewing and swallowing, she said, “I’d have figured you for a palatial country home kind of guy.”

“There’s not a lot of choice in Blackwater Lake. The town is growing and housing is struggling to catch up and stay current.”

“I see.” She sipped her coffee, studying him over the rim of her cup. “You’re a complicated man, Cal Hart.”

“Keeps people on their toes.”

“People? Or women?” she asked.

“Women are people, too,” he pointed out.

“And they no doubt fall at your feet. From all that brilliance, whether you’re complicated or not,” she teased. “In fact, I bet most of them prefer not.”

“What do you prefer?” There was a deep, husky quality to his voice that could be called seductive. His eyes widened slightly and he said, “Don’t tell me. Simple hard work is your preference. It gets the job done. Speaking of which...what happened to the contract my lawyer emailed? There are pages missing.”

Apparently he was keeping this purely professional. Hence the pivot back to work. That was for the best, even though she was enjoying their verbal sparring. “I know. It’s on my to-do list. The internet was really slow, and then it just shut down.”

“Damn it.”

“I’m sorry. I checked with resort management late yesterday and they said the system can often be overloaded with data.”

“Then the system should be upgraded. If I was running this place...” He was buttering a slice of rye toast and stopped.

“What?” she prompted.

“Technology would be more efficient, for one thing.” The frustration in his expression grew more intense as the muscle in his jaw jerked.

“Think about this place,” she advised.

“I am. If someone is expecting some important documents or business negotiations requiring paperwork, their expectations will not be met.”

“Unless this location is intended to cater to expectations other than business. Outside are sea and sand, neither of which is particularly user-friendly to computer circuits or memory chips.”

“Of course not. No one’s going to use a fax machine on a paddleboard.”

“Exactly. People actually come here to get away from the rat race. To decompress outside in the water while soaking up the sun. Maybe upping their absorption of vitamin D while they’re at it.”

Cal glanced across the room, where the French doors were open to the patio. Outside, dark clouds had obscured the blue sky and were very swiftly rolling over the ocean toward them. Lightning flickered within the billowing black mass and a bolt zigzagged into the ocean.

“Great, just great,” he mumbled.

Justine thought the approaching storm closely mirrored the expression on her boss’s face. From the looks of it, he could use a refresher course in care and feeding of peace and relaxation. Something had him on edge. She hadn’t missed the way he’d abruptly changed the course of breakfast chitchat from personal back to business. If she hadn’t walked into this room prepared to work hard enough to forget he was there, she might not have noticed. But that was her plan of action and he’d gotten there first.

There was just one flaw in the all-work-to-avoid-play plan. And it was hard to ignore. “Cal, this is paradise. People come here to unplug. Technology doesn’t have to be business-fast. It’s not designed to do that. Probably so someone who’s even tempted to choose work over relaxation will just give in and let it go.”

“Try explaining that to my high-priced attorney who is waiting for me to look over that contract and get back to him. Strike while the iron is hot and all that. And there are other time-sensitive interests that are affected...”

A roaring sound outside made them both look out the doors. The storm had moved in really fast. Huge drops of torrential rain suddenly started bouncing on the patio, and the steady pounding was like the white noise on a sound machine. Then there was a crack of lightning and almost simultaneously the boom of thunder.

“It’s right over us.” The lights flickered and his expression grew even darker. “Paradise isn’t perfect, after all.”

“And yet, what most people wouldn’t give to ride out an electrical storm on a tropical island as opposed to being at home.”

“I’m not most people.”

“Maybe you should give it a try,” she snapped back. “Ordinary isn’t so bad...”

There was another flash and the booming sound of thunder. Then the lights went out.

“Isn’t that just swell?” Cal leaned back in his chair. “People, ordinary or otherwise, can’t do much of anything now. Including work.”

Justine glanced from the downpour outside to the irritated, angry look on Cal’s face. “Wow. Bummer. Since the business machines are out of commission, you might have to sit here and talk to me.”

“This would not happen in Blackwater Lake. And before you remind me the power can go out anywhere, I have a generator there.”

“Then why don’t you go back there?” That was a very good question, one she’d asked the first day and hadn’t received an answer to. Call it the weird vibe of electrical energy in the air, but now she wanted to know. “Now that I think about it, carrying on business at the level you seem obsessed with is a challenge here. So, why didn’t you go home after breaking your leg? What’s going on, Cal? And don’t tell me ‘nothing.’”

Chapter Four

“But nothing is going on.”

Pushing back against a statement of fact had put Cal in this predicament in the first place. You’d think he would know better than to keep doing it. Maybe he wasn’t capable of learning, after all.

“Calhoun Hart, you’re a big, fat fibber.” Justine put her spoon down in her empty bowl. Her eyes narrowed on him and made him want to squirm, but he resisted the urge.

“I have no idea what you mean.” He’d been about to say again that there was nothing going on, but decided it was protesting too much. He had to play this just right. “And ‘big, fat fibber’? Really? Is this junior high?”

“And there it is,” she said triumphantly.

“There what is?” He looked around the shadowy interior of the villa. “And how can you see it without the lights?”

“You’re so glib.”

Her tone didn’t make the comment sound like a compliment, but that didn’t stop him from running with it. “That just might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“You tap dance pretty well for a man with a broken leg.” The words were spoken in a pleasant voice, but her eyes were still narrowed on him. “Your behavior is classic.”

“How?”

“It tells me that you’re hiding something.” She held up her hand and started ticking things off on her fingers. “You turned the conversation back on me being ‘junior high.’ Then deflected to electricity. And tap-danced to twisting my words into a compliment. You better start talking, mister.”

“Or what?”

“Now who’s acting all junior high?” she accused him.

He grinned. “Then I’m going for it all the way. You’re not the boss of me.” Since when was being on the hot seat so much fun? The only variable was Justine. “There’s nothing you can do to make me talk.”

“Oh, you’re so wrong about that. There are many, many ways I could bring you to your knees.”

“One comes to mind. Using my crutches for a bonfire on the beach.” He met her gaze and shrugged.

“There’s no reason I have to be that cruel. Or literal.” She tapped her lip. “I can think of a much quicker, much simpler way.”

“What could be easier than commandeering a man’s crutches?”

“I could call your mother.” She smiled slowly and with more than a little wickedness.

“That’s low, Justine.”

“A girl has to do what a girl has to do.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “I wonder if there’s cell service during an electrical storm.”

For several moments Cal wasn’t sure that the pounding he heard wasn’t in his ears. His sneaky assistant frowned at her phone and he guessed Mother Nature was giving him a reprieve.

“You can’t call my mom. You don’t have her phone number.”

“Want to bet?”

He was beginning to wish he’d never heard the word bet. Little Miss Serene had a fairly ruthless expression on her face. Not unlike the stubborn set of her mouth when she refused to work overtime. She obviously wasn’t going to let this go.

“All right. You win. There is something.”

“Aha.” She pointed at him. “So you are a big, fat fibber.”

“Prevaricator. My vocabulary has improved since middle school.”

“Then start using your words and tell me what you’re up to. Pronto.”

“Would you mind if I sat on the couch and propped my leg up for this?”

Her eyebrows rose. “Is it a long story?”

“There are some things I need to explain. All to give you context,” he said.

“Well, we can’t go to work until the lights come back on anyway...”

“Good.” That would give him time to figure out how to say this so he wouldn’t drain all the reserves her soul had so recently stored up.

Cal pushed to a standing position and balanced on his right foot while he grabbed the crutches and propped them under his arms. He swung himself over to the huge couch and sank into it, then put the injured leg up and stretched it out.

“Do you want me to bring your plate over?” There was a spark of amusement in her eyes. “Keep up your strength for this?”

“Funny girl.” He’d lost his appetite halfway through. “No. I’ve had enough.”

“How about coffee?”

“Yes. Please,” he added.

She ferried cups, saucers and the insulated pot of coffee to the table then poured refills for both of them. Taking hers, she sat in the club chair beside him and looked expectant. “I’m listening.”

“Okay.” He met her gaze and had the absurd thought that she looked pure and innocent even when threatening to tattle to his mother. Hopefully his confession wouldn’t crush that out of her. “I’m a very competitive guy. Could just be my nature or where I fall in the family birth order.”

“You’re the second son.”

Cal remembered his brother telling him to get over second-son syndrome. “So it’s common knowledge.”

“Hart Energy is a subsidiary of Hart Industries. If one works there, it would be hard not to know.”

“I guess. The thing is, that’s just a fact. It doesn’t convey any of the reality of growing up in Sam Hart’s shadow. We were born nine months apart.”

“Twins the hard way,” she interjected.

“That’s what my mom always says. Anyway, I had the distinction of trying to keep up with him, pretty much right out of the womb. I wanted to do everything he did, including getting my parents’ attention.”

“This is where you own up to acting out.”

He shook his head. “I did my best to be bigger, faster, stronger.”

“Going for bionic?” Her mouth twitched, as if she was holding back a laugh.

“No, only first.”

“Ah.” She nodded her understanding. “And that could never be.”

“I could never be firstborn, but in every other way I needed to win. School. Sports. Girls. We competed for the same ones.”

A shrink would have a field day with the fact that he married a woman who had loved another man first. That man happened to be his brother Sam. Cal shouldn’t have been so surprised and hurt when it didn’t work out, but they said love was blind.

“So, your whole life has been like the second-place car rental company that has to try harder?”

“Yes. We run different companies under the Hart Industries umbrella, and I want him to be successful. I just want my bottom line to be better than his.”

“That’s why you work so hard.”

“Exactly.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “But that still doesn’t explain why you didn’t go home after breaking your leg. In fact, it just makes me more curious.”

“I was getting to that part.” As slowly as possible. He was dreading the expression of disappointment that he knew she would wear. The why of that was a mystery he didn’t have time right now to think about. He took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, then set the cup back on the saucer. “It happened at Sam’s wedding.”

“It?”

“Apparently my family was concerned about the fact that I hadn’t taken a vacation in a while.”

“How long is ‘a while’?”

“Four years.”

“Wow. Long time.” Her eyes widened.

“Then Sam made a crack about my social life.”

“He thinks you’re burning the candle at both ends?” she guessed. “He doesn’t like your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have one. And he—”

“Said something about you not having sex, which got your macho all in a twist. Am I right?” she asked.

“Not about the macho part, but the rest is pretty accurate. How did you know?” And why did she say it straight out without any awkwardness? Maybe because the lights were still out and clouds filled the sky. There was no way he could see whether or not she was blushing. It was one step shy of making love in the dark.

“I know because I have brothers. Two.” She shrugged.

“Okay.” He let out a breath. “His comment touched a nerve and then there’s the classic car—”

“Just a hot minute. If this is you digressing to distract me, you should be warned that it won’t work.”

“That never crossed my mind.” Because he’d already tried that and found out she was too smart to be sidetracked by his charming repartee. “It’s important.”

“Okay, then. Carry on.”

“Our grandfather left Sam his classic Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow, even though I always told him I wanted it. He said it was about Sam being the oldest.” Cal sighed. “I really love that car. But apparently Granddad told Sam that I worked too much to care for the Duchess the way she needed to be cared for. To make a long story short—”

“Too late for that,” she teased.

He laughed. “Sam bet me that I couldn’t stay on this island for a month.”

“By ‘stay’ I assume he meant vacation?”

“That’s not what he said,” Cal stressed. “There was no stipulation about not working.”

“But it was implied. That’s the very definition of vacation,” she insisted. “And yet you brought me here to help you work.”

“I can’t deny that.”

There was the dreaded judgment in her eyes and it was definitely going against him. “That violates the very spirit of the wager. You’re supposed to be here taking a break. Resting and relaxing.”

Very little of either was going on, Cal thought. And it had only gotten worse since Justine showed up. “I honestly had planned to do that. I had a schedule of activities every day. A spreadsheet—”