"You stay strong, okay?" Isa said. "And you go to the physical therapy sessions for your balance. If anything else happens, don't try to hide it from me. I'll always have your back." As she'd dreamed of someone having hers when she'd been Catie's age.
Catie blew a breath down the line. "That was me blowing you a kiss, Issie. You're my favorite person in all the world. Don't tell Harlow though--he gets kind of jealous sometimes I think. And squish him for me. He's so excited about this internship."
Smiling, Isa put down the phone after saying bye to Catie. Only to look up and find her brother hovering in the doorway. "Harlow!" She got up at once and went around to hug her tall and lanky brother. "How's your first day going?"
"Awesome!" His excited eyes were dark and sharply slanted behind his wire-rimmed spectacles, his black hair slick straight and cut with ruthless neatness. Catie always moaned about how Harlow got the razor-blade cheekbones when he didn't even care about them and she got soft, rounded features that weren't yet adult.
"So," Isa said to the sibling she'd first met when she was twenty-three and Harlow was twelve, "what do they have you doing?"
"Mailroom." A roll of his eyes. "Apparently, it's where all the interns start. So here's your mail--Ginny said I could do a personal delivery this time."
Accepting it with a laugh, Isa kissed him on the cheek--though he looked around to make sure no one was watching before he'd bent down so she could reach. Then she waved him off to continue his rounds and went through the business mail. Nothing much.
A notation popped up on her phone calendar as she was scanning an invitation to an open house at another company: Meeting at Fast Organic #1. It was for a meeting set thirty minutes into the future, giving her just enough time to get to the location.
Grabbing her satchel, she put her laptop and a notepad into it before walking out. "Ginny, do you know what this meeting at Fast Organic is about?"
"Oh, I forgot to tell you. It's with someone your mother hired to do... I think it was interior decorating? Annalisa handled it to help me out." Ginny bit down on her lower lip. "I'm so sorry, I was so flustered when Jacqueline promoted me to assistant to the vice president, and then she was throwing all this information at me--"
"That's fine," Isa said, knowing exactly how overwhelming Jacqueline could be. "I've been through all the files--I can handle this." No doubt her mother had hired an individual who was in tune with the needs of the restaurant. If not, Isa had a very good grasp of the intended look and could nudge the designer in the correct direction. "What else is on my calendar today?"
Ginny took a quick look. "I've got a note here that you teach night classes on Tuesdays, so I've made sure not to schedule anything after three thirty for you."
"Excellent." Isa glanced at her watch. "I won't return to the office after the meeting--but if anything comes up, you have my number."
"Okay, boss," Ginny said brightly. "You make a really great vice president!" the brunette called out a minute later as Isa headed down the corridor.
Isa just waved behind her. It didn't matter if she was good at it; she didn't love it in the least. Not like she loved the poetry of William Butler Yeats and Percy Bysshe Shelley and Elizabeth Barrett Browning as well as the works of innovative modern poets like Nikita Gill. Not like she loved sharing the joy of those works with young minds. For her, the VP position was just a job. A job she'd been blackmailed into taking.
"Only for the summer." Leaving the colorful environs of Crafty Corners on that quiet reminder to herself, she got into her car.
She was mentally reviewing the concept plans for the Fast Organic stores when she turned in to the parking lot of the first location. Her eyes widened, her mouth going dry as her heart pulsated with a hard beat.
"Oh, Ginny." She groaned as she brought the car to a stop next to Sailor's truck. "It wasn't interior decorating but exterior decorating."
And there he was, crouching in one corner of the parking lot as he measured something. His thighs were strong and thick and really impossible to avoid staring at, given how he was crouching down. She could also see part of the tattoo composed of intricate shapes and lines on his left thigh, and it made her want to run her fingers over it... Maybe her lips too, if she were being honest.
No, Isa, she told herself sternly. There are many, many reasons why he is very, very wrong for you.
Even if she was willing to be stupid and forget all those other reasons, Sailor Bishop struck her as a charmer--and Isa had seen firsthand what happened to women who fell for charmers. It never ended well for the woman.
Not even Jacqueline had managed to hold on to her favorite charmer--Isa's father.
There was a reason Jacqueline was now in a happy marriage with a professor twelve years her senior who couldn't charm to save his life. He and Jacqueline had a quiet joy between them that Isa coveted.
Meanwhile, Stefan kept on charming women and racking up the young brides.
There was a lesson there in glaring neon.
But..., the devil in her whispered, not for the first time, while you're waiting to find your forever, how about some naughty times in the back of Sailor Bishop's truck?
Telling Devil Isa to shut up and that the debate was over, Isa got out and crossed the parking lot to Sailor, her satchel banging against her hip. He looked up with a smile at her approach.
Blue heat in those eyes, open male admiration.
"So," she said, "you're going to be our landscaper, are you?" She folded her arms and tried desperately to think of something nasty to say that would make him stop trying to charm her--because Isa wasn't so sure about her own self-control where this man was concerned. "What a big surprise."
Dark clouds swept across his expression. "I don't need to sleep with anyone to get work contracts, spitfire." A slow grin. "Though I am flattered that you think I can use my body to climb my way to the top."
Cheeks threatening to go hot, Isa said, "Let's get this over with. What's your plan?" Jacqueline had given her the basic outline, but that was it.
"All the plans are in the truck," he said, nudging his head that way as he rose to his feet. "Did you get the gift I left for you with the front desk?"
Isa was about to answer when her eyes fell to his knuckles. They were red and scraped. As if he'd punched someone in the jaw. "You hit Cody," she said, the words coming out a stunned whisper.
Even though she'd suspected, she hadn't really believed it.
A shrug of those big shoulders. "Yeah, I did."
"Why?"
"Because it needed to be done." His hand cupping her jaw, the pad of his thumb brushing across her lips--and his eyes steely in a way that kept startling her. "I should've done it that night, but I never went back into the warehouse after I ran out behind you."
As if that was enough. As if men went around punching other men all the time for the simple reason that they'd once badly hurt a woman.
He stepped closer, the heat of his body a rough caress and his smile like sunlight on her skin. "You planning to kiss my knuckles better?"
That scary, beautiful charm again.
Like melted chocolate and sin and all things just a little bit bad.
18
Temptation & Distraction
HIS REDHEAD GLARED AT HIM.
Sailor knew he shouldn't be messing with the vice president of the company for which he was doing the biggest job of his career so far, but he couldn't help himself.
"Is this what you call professional behavior?" Her tone was so icy that he almost bought it for a second--but then he caught the flush at the very tips of her ears.
Fascinated, he nearly gave in to the urge to lean down and nip at the nearest tip to see if she was sensitive there. He hadn't done that while she was naked in his arms in the water. In fact, he hadn't done a lot of things he wanted to do with and to this redhead with her blushes and her smart mouth and her way of looking at him as if she'd like to eat him up--after ripping off his clothes and running her hands all ov
er him.
Sailor was quite willing to be her sacrifice.
Even if she was a curvy distraction.
Because this distraction didn't only make his blood burn, she made the day brighter just by being in it. Every time he was lucky enough to be with her, he was just... happier. That was worth fighting for. Worth any prickles. Worth the bruised knuckles. Worth the super-early-morning starts just so he could carve out time in his day to play with her.
"My apologies, Ms. Rain," he said. "I'll keep it strictly professional from now on."
A distinctly suspicious glint in her eye.
Hiding his grin as he grabbed his stuff from the truck, he spread out the detailed plan on the hood. Anchoring the top of the plan with his cell phone and the tape measure, he put his hand on the third edge and Isa put her hand on the final one.
"This is what I see," he began.
"Wait," Isa said before he could continue. "You're talking about digging up the existing parking lot. Jacqueline didn't mention that."
"It's the basis for everything else." Sailor handed her a copy of the quote he'd done for Jacqueline. "There's no way to get the look the senior Ms. Rain wants for Fast Organic without--"
"I'm the one in charge of this account now," Isa said. "You have to sell me your idea." She shot him a narrow-eyed glance. "And I don't have a weakness for pretty and charming men."
This time when Sailor scowled, it was for real. "Don't you think that's a little sexist?"
"Excuse me?"
"Ignoring all my skills and bringing me down to being just a pretty man?" Part of him was delighted she saw him that way, but the hard-nosed businessman within was pissed--and irritated. He didn't want Isa thinking of him as anything but smart, a worthy opponent.
"Now you know what women feel like in the workplace," was her tart response. A moment later, she added, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did, especially after I asked you to be professional."
"So you don't think I'm pretty and charming?"
An even narrower-eyed glance. "Let's talk about your plan." It was an order.
Startled at this unyielding side of her--and turned on as well--Sailor began to go through the finer points of what he intended to. "It's all about working to create a certain atmosphere from the moment a customer drives in."
Excitement was a crashing wave inside his body as he laid out his vision. "We're talking green and healthy, and with this kitchen garden that I'm suggesting"--he tapped it on the map--"your customers will actually be able to see where a little of their food is coming from. Obviously, it's going to be mostly for show because you won't be able to grow enough, but you'll be growing some at least."
Sailor continued when Isa didn't interrupt. "People feel good about buying sustainable products, especially people in your targeted customer base. There's also the lack of a carbon footprint in taking lettuce from the garden to the kitchen and then to the plate. You can use that in your advertising and customer outreach. I'm betting the garden will also get a lot of play on social media."
Isa looked intrigued. "Can we extend that?" she asked. "Fast Organic is going to be fast food, but we won't be doing huge volumes. Our prices are at the premium end, which means we need to sell at a lower volume to make a profit. The plan is to grow a small but dedicated client base."
Sailor saw where she was going with this. "You want the kitchen garden big enough that you can actually supply most of the needs of the restaurant?"
Isa nodded. "Even if it's only certain items per season," she said. "For example, if we could say that all the tomatoes in the salad this month come from the Fast Organic gardens."
Sailor nodded slowly, his blood heating at having a client who was willing to work with him. That it was this woman who made him crave things he'd long pushed to the side, that was just the icing on the cake. "I'll have to rework the plans, but yeah, we could make that happen."
He took a pencil from his pocket and began to sketch in a few changes. "You'd then need to have a long-term gardener on contract who could make sure the garden stayed healthy. As it so happens, I know a gardener with excellent rates." Yes, he preferred to do landscaping, but he wasn't too proud to take maintenance jobs--it was all cash flow for his bigger dream.
Isa gave him a look that was pure Rain. "Let's do this first and see how good you are, Mr. Bishop."
Sailor wanted to kiss her and kiss her and kiss her. Telling himself to focus, that playtime was later, he said, "If we put in a larger kitchen garden, we're going to have to lose the little seating area here."
"Not necessarily." Isa stared at his plan. "What if we make it so people are welcome to do things in the garden during their lunch break? They can sit there. They can weed if they're in the mood."
"Like a community garden?" Sailor drew in a breath, and with it came her scent. "Might work with staff keeping an eye on things. The larger issue is what happens when the restaurant is closed."
He frowned at the map while Isa's scent tangled around him like invisible chains. "I only have sustainable fencing created of hedges in this plan, and I still think that's the look you should be going for, but if you're talking about a true kitchen garden, then we have to build in some way to protect the garden at night so folks don't sneak off with your produce."
He tapped his pencil on the plan before beginning to draw in a system of strong trellises that would let in light and look beautiful while still acting as protective walls. "One side can open to let people in during the day," he murmured. "We can train climbers over the rest. Something edible. Beans maybe. Or... will you be using edible flowers in your dishes?"
Isa was so close now that he could feel her hip brushing against his thigh. "No, I don't think so. But we should be able to work with that. I'll talk to the chef who's finalizing the menu. We can move quickly because Fast Organic will be doing a number of limited-run products across the seasons."
Sailor continued to alter the plan. Snuggled up next to him in a way she probably didn't realize and he wasn't stupid enough to point out, Isa kept on asking questions, her face alight with interest. He realized that though she'd called him a pretty man, she was dead serious about him and his work.
He also realized she had a brain as dangerous as Jacqueline's.
His third realization was that he badly, badly wanted to stroke his hand down her back and over the curve of her rear. He'd probably squeeze, because an ass that beautiful deserved nothing else. Then he'd bend down and kiss his way up her spine and to those ears with their fascinating blushing tips.
That was when, out of nowhere, he realized a fourth thing that he'd simply forgotten to factor into his whole pursuit of his redhead: Isa was rich.
Way out of his league rich.
Even if he got his business off the ground as he wanted and was hoping to achieve, he wouldn't make any real money until at least two or three years into the future. And that money wouldn't ever compare to Crafty Corners unless he managed to achieve the biggest dream in his heart.
His fingers tightened around the pencil.
Hard as it was to bear the thought, his spitfire would most probably only ever see him as an amusement. Women as wealthy and as smart and as sexy as Isa tended to stick within their social and economic class when it came to serious relationships.
Mood suddenly dark even though he had no room in his life for a relationship and the removal of a distraction should've made him happy, he began to roll up his plan. "I'll need to rework the financial end of things in light of these changes. But," he continued, "I don't think it should make that much of a difference as we'll be taking out the seating area to extend the garden."
Not looking at her because, right now, his desires weren't the least bit civilized or professional--there might be biting involved--he wrenched his mind back to business. "How much leeway do I have to move ahead, given the changes? I have a line on some plants I can get for a lower than usual rate, but I have to act fast."
"Go ahead and get the plants," Isa said.
"But send me the updated quote tonight so I can keep the bean counters happy."
Stepping back from the truck on that very vice presidential statement, she gave him a searching look that was... softer, gentler, made his hunger to kiss her even more voracious. "Is everything okay?"
Sailor nodded. If he did this right, his work might well be featured in magazines and other publications across the country. Isa's full kitchen garden concept was an incredible one, especially when it related to fast food--it would take his work into truly groundbreaking territory.
He had to be professional. Even when he was shaking off a blow he'd never seen coming. The years between them, her stubbornness, even the fact she was now vice president of Crafty Corners, he'd been ready to deal with all that--but the amount of money at Isa's disposal? It was at such a level that it simply took her out of his orbit.
And still Sailor wanted to tumble her into the back seat of his truck.
Even if Isalind Rain, daughter of Jacqueline Rain, heir to a fortune in the tens of millions, would break his heart in the end.
* * *
ISA WAS STILL CHEWING OVER what had happened at the end of her meeting with Sailor when she drove into the school parking lot for her evening class. However, try as she might, she couldn't figure out what had happened. One moment he'd been flirting with her with his eyes, his body a hard line against hers, and the next he'd grown oddly distant and formal.
A knock on her car window. She jerked. "Oh, Diana." Getting out, she said, "Sorry, woolgathering."
"No problem" was the cheerful response from the thirty-something woman with ebullient black curls around a rounded face. "I thought we could go in together. I have to tell someone about the amazing violin concert I went to last night."
Smiling, Isa hitched the strap of her satchel over her shoulder and walked in with the gregarious music teacher. She had to get her head back in the game, and that game was the teaching that she loved whether it was adults or children.
The good thing about adults was their sheer dedication. No teenage groans here.
In fact, they were so enthusiastic and had so much to discuss that her class ran into overtime. It meant she was the last teacher to leave, but with it being summer and the entire country running on daylight savings time, the world was still bathed in light. Several of her students were also yet lingering just outside the main doors. From what she overheard, they were involved in a heated discussion about the true meaning of a Coleridge poem.