His by Christmas Read online

  “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—”

  “I’m sorry, what?”

  “I had something on the calendar for every day. Parasailing, hang gliding, wave riding, rock climbing—”

  Her mouth opened, hinting that she was appalled. “Those aren’t gentle, peaceful or restful. They’re life-threatening.”

  “I prefer to think of them as aggressive leisure interests.” She was really putting him on the defensive. “The point is that I broke my leg on the first day and had to cancel everything. And I couldn’t leave the island and lose the bet. Sitting around and doing nothing would have pushed me over the edge.” He shrugged. “I figured that I might as well work.”

  “Wow. You would rather work when there’s a beautiful, exciting island just outside the door to this luxury villa and it’s yours to explore?”

  “Not when you’re on crutches,” he retorted. “Believe me, I checked. No wave riding or parasailing when you’ve got a cast on your leg.”

  “You’ve never heard of plan B?”

  “Of course I have. But, like I said, I’m complicated. And nothing fun is cast-friendly.”

  There was a gleam in her eyes when she said, “I bet there’s a lot of fun things you can do with that plaster on your leg.”

  “I challenge you to come up with a list of activities for a guy in my situation. Until then, don’t judge.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t long before the lights came back on, the clouds disappeared and paradise was restored. Outside. Inside, Justine went to work, and when not busy doing something for her boss, she researched available activities on this tropical island. At lunchtime they took a break and she was ready with a list. After finishing a delicious meal of grilled fish, delicate rice, salad and the yummiest sugar cookies ever, she figured it was as good a time as any to bring it up.

  She was sitting in the club chair beside the cushy sofa where Cal was stretched out. “I’m ready for your challenge,” she said.

  “Which one would that be?”

  “I think asking the question is a stall technique, but we’ll play this your way.” She opened a file folder containing information she’d printed out. “There are many things to do on this island. Even for a man with limited mobility.”

  “Don’t even mention the W-word.”

  She was drawing a blank. “I’m sorry. The what now?”

  “Wheelchair.”

  “Ah.” She nodded her understanding. “You’re thinking limitations. My focus is broader. That’s the difference between us.”

  “No. The difference is that my leg is broken. Yours are just fine.” He stopped and that declaration settled in the air between them. “I’m sorry. By ‘fine’ I meant you’re not on crutches.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  Her leg was fine if you were just talking mobility. It had taken surgeries, time and hard work to regain function, albeit with a slight limp, but the extensive scars would always be a visual reminder of what she’d lost.

  �
��Moving on, then. No wheelchair. Got it.” She scanned her paperwork. “You were right.”

  “I’m surprised to hear you admit that.” But he looked puzzled. “What exactly is it that I’m right about?”

  “Activities at an island resort heavily favor guests who are not in a cast.”

  “Like I said, there’s nothing for me to do and I couldn’t just sit around and do nothing. Hence the work. Given my circumstances, that’s not a violation of the spirit of the wager with my brother. It comes under the heading of Circumstances Beyond My Control.”

  “Not completely true,” she told him. “I said it favors noninjured people, but there’s plenty to keep the physically challenged occupied.”

  “Such as?”

  “Massage.” She let that sink in for a moment. “The resort has a lovely menu of them. For example—the Swedish massage using long, fluid strokes to relieve muscle tension and improve circulation. Optimum blood flow will facilitate healing in your leg. And the technique will ease you into relaxation and relieve stress throughout your entire body. That’s not just the spirit of vacation. It’s proactive participation in it.”

  She looked up from her notes to gauge his reaction. There was a tight, tense expression on his face that wasn’t exactly disapproval, but something that made her heart skip a beat. It was as if he could think of something else to relieve his body’s tension, and that thought made her blush.

  Looking back at her notes, she started talking, anything to fill the silence. “Here’s one you might like. Vibrational massage using specially blended oils that vibrate with the frequency of the seven energy centers of the body to open and revitalize the chakras. This synergistic experience of breathing in each of the powerful aromatic oils, along with light massage, leaves you feeling balanced.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Balance is good. That’s why one takes a vacation. There’s nothing wrong with working hard, but you need to offset it with play.” She glanced up and saw amusement on his face. “What?”

  “You know what they say. Your chakras can’t be opened enough.”

  “Okay. Moving on.” She flipped through the research. “Oh, here’s something. Artistic palm arrangement.”

  “Basket weaving.”

  “Well...yes, but it would be helpful if you weren’t an activity snob. The pictures of what people have done are quite impressive. And you can do it sitting down. All you need are two good hands and a yearning for artistic adventure.”

  “I bet thrill seekers from all over the world are just flocking to that one,” he said wryly.

  She nodded. “Good to know your chakras might be closed but your mind is completely open to possibilities.”

  “I’m glad you noticed.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

  What she noticed was the way his smile and the gleam in his eyes warmed a path straight inside her and made her heart beat a little faster. Talk about possibilities. And no scenario in which she indulged them would end well. Look away, she told herself.

  “I’ll put you down as a maybe for artistic palm arrangement.” She turned a page. “Now, this sounded like fun.”

  “Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  She ignored him. “A cooking class specializing in cuisine from the island. As the description says, ‘Extend your vacation by bringing home the palate-pleasing recipes for the foods that enhanced your leisure experience.’”

  “Three strikes and you’re out.”

  “You’re determined not to be receptive to anything. I still won the challenge. There is stuff to do.”

  “It was a nice try, but work makes time go faster.” He shrugged. “I just want it to pass so I can win the bet and go home to collect on it.”

  “That’s just wrong, Cal. Do you have any idea how many people would give almost anything to be in your shoes right now?”

  “You mean the broken leg, right?”

  “That’s just being deliberately obtuse.” She stood and glared down at him. “You have the opportunity to be in this gorgeous place and the means to enjoy it—even with your leg in a cast. You’re just feeling sorry for yourself, and it has to be said that it’s not a good look.”

  “Oh?”

  “No. You’re determined to be miserable and bring everyone around you down, too. If you’re going to win that bet, you have a responsibility to at least make an attempt to live up to the terms of it. Cheaters never prosper,” she added. For all the good it would do.

  “Are you going to rat me out?”

  “As tempting as that is—no. You have to live with your dishonesty. Guilty conscience and all that.” She shrugged and let the words sink in.

  Anger, annoyance and amusement had all drifted over his face, but now he just looked thoughtful. “If you were here on vacation instead of work, with or without a broken leg, what would you do to occupy yourself?”

  “I would sit on the beach in a lounge chair under a palm tree and read a book,” she said without hesitation. “Parasailing or hang gliding would not be my first choice, in case you were wondering.”

  “I wasn’t. And just so we’re clear, if I tried to get to the sand, I’d get stuck.” He nodded toward the crutches beside him. “And then there’s the whole issue of getting sand inside the cast.”

  “That’s the thing,” she said. “Just steps from this villa’s patio, there happens to be a lounge under a tree. You can make it that far and I’ll help you get the rest of the way. Your bum foot will never touch the sand.” It wouldn’t take much effort, and Justine didn’t know why she hadn’t thought of it sooner. “What do you say?”

  “I don’t have a book.”

  “I can loan you one,” she offered.

  “Is it about breathing techniques and chakras?” he asked suspiciously.

  “Actually, I can give you a choice. I have a romance novel or the action-adventure High Value Target written by Blackwater Lake’s very own bestselling author, Jack Garner.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Come on, Cal. Based on the schedule you had to scrap, you’re not a man who shies away from a challenge. I can’t believe you’re afraid. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “Famous last words—” But he swung his legs to the floor and grabbed the crutches, then stood and positioned them under his arms. “Well played, Miss Walker.”

  “That’s the spirit. Your vitamin D is doing the dance of joy at the prospect of replenishment.”

  “That’s something. It’s the only part of me capable of dancing at the moment.”

  “Okay, then. Let me think this through. A good general plans out a mission. So, wait on the patio.”

  She hadn’t considered the sand inside the cast and decided to put a fluffy beach towel on the lounge. Then she retrieved his sunglasses and handed them over before putting the book on the umbrella table anchored in the sand.

  Moving back beside him, she said, “I’m going to set your crutches against the palm tree there. You can balance for a moment, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay. I’ll be a human crutch. I’ll put my arm around your waist and you lean on me.”

  “Yeah. I figured that part out.”

  She put the plan in motion, then moved beside him and slid her arm around him. “You’re not in pain, are you?”

  “I’m fine.” His voice sounded deeper than usual, and it was usually pretty deep.

  She wasn’t sure whether or not he was just being tough but decided to take his word for it. “Can you hop?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  He was big, Justine realized. And solid. Not to mention warm and so very male. The thought put a hitch in her breathing. She hadn’t been this close to a man since losing her husband and for the first time realized how very m
uch she’d been missing it. She missed being touched, and a whole bunch of other feelings broke free and nearly overwhelmed her. But she couldn’t think about that now. Concentrate and don’t let him fall.

  Fortunately Cal was athletic and his balance was good. He could have done this alone but she wouldn’t let him. Because it had been her idea. They were standing in the sand by the lounge, and with his hand on her shoulder for balance, he maneuvered himself down onto it.

  “Easy peasy,” she said.

  “Not from my perspective,” he grumbled.

  Justine was breathing a little too fast and chalked it up to physical exertion. Admittedly the sparks she’d experienced from touching him were a bit disconcerting. Other than that the strategy was successful.

  “You’re going to love this.” She infused her voice with enthusiasm. “The sun. Wind in your hair. Looking at the ocean. When you’re not reading, of course.”

  “Yeah.” No enthusiasm.

  “The best part is relaxing. No work. No talking about work.” She sighed. “Heavenly.”

  “If you say so,” he said.

  “I do. Don’t worry. I’ll check on you. Just give me a wave when you want to come back in and I’ll be back out to give you a hand.”

  “Excuse me?” There was disapproval in his voice, but the aviator sunglasses hid his expression.

  “I have work to do.”

  “Not so fast. You’re not going anywhere.”

  Chapter Five

  “I’m not sitting out here all alone.” Cal didn’t care if there were dancing girls and acrobats. Justine had pushed him into this and now she was abandoning him? Uh-uh. Not going to happen.

  “But you’re paying me to do a job.”

  “I’m paying you to be my assistant. And I need assistance with this. Sit.” He pointed at the lounge beside his. “Stay. Talk.”

  “But—”

  “That’s an order.”

  She didn’t sit. “Seriously, Cal. There are things that I really need to get done. Be reasonable.”

  “I am.”

  “You definitely are not.” She settled her hands on her hips.

  Very shapely hips, he noticed. He sure would like to see her in a pair of shorts, or something besides loose linen slacks or long, flowing dresses.