Cerella Sechrist - Gentle Persuasion

His jaw, dusted with a fine smattering of stubble, hardened. “I don’t grant interviews anymore.”

“Oh, I’m not a journalist,” Ophelia assured him.

He studied her intently, his mind obviously scanning its memory banks.

“Ophelia Reid...” he murmured thoughtfully.

She took a sip of her juice, its cool sweetness sliding easily down her throat. “This is delicious, thank you. What sort of juice is it?”

“Guava,” he answered with some distraction before looking at her carefully. “We’ve never met,” he noted with certainty.

“No,” she agreed. “We never have.”

He leaned back, his own beverage standing forgotten. “But I would presume to say you’re not here for a vacation, reporter or no.”

Ophelia took the seat across from him, settling into the cushioned wicker chair. “Not exactly,” she admitted. She couldn’t help admiring the lean, muscled lines of his arms as he crossed them over his chest. No wonder the media had so often portrayed him as something of a demigod in the business world. His famed good looks were even more evident in person than they had been in the articles she’d been reading about him. It filled her with intimidation, and she reminded herself that his looks had nothing to do with her mission.

He narrowed his eyes and watched her. She held his gaze and stared right back.

“I’m here to make you an offer,” she finally said.

Dane dropped his arms and stood, his response short and sharp. “Not interested.”

She sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.

“You haven’t even heard the terms.”

He shook his head and placed several steps of distance between them, as though she were contaminated.

“Not. Interested.”

She leaned back, looking out over the garden. “Fine. This job’s not on commission for me, so...” She shrugged.

This statement apparently piqued his curiosity, as she’d known it would. Recruiters usually made their living solely on the commissions they reaped from placing high-salary executives in top-end jobs. Working an assignment gratis had to have a compelling reason behind it.

Sufficiently mistrustful, however, Dane did not nibble on this declaration, at least not immediately.

“Ophelia Reid.” He repeated her name once more. “You’re a headhunter.”

Now it was her turn to tense. “I’ve never been fond of that term. I prefer the more noble title of ‘executive recruiter’ in my profession.”

He scoffed. “You can paint it any color you like—it’s all the same to me.”

She took another sip of juice to prevent herself from rising to the bait. Dane Montgomery’s dislike of recruiters was well known, and she chose not to take his disdain personally.

When she remained silent, Dane began to pace, scratching his jawline thoughtfully before finally snapping his fingers.

“Reid Recruiting Agency.” He slid her a sideways glance. “You’re Lillian Reid’s daughter, aren’t you?”

She suppressed a wince, as she always did, when she was labeled in this manner. Her mother’s reputation forever preceded her, singling her out as the only child of the ferociously famous corporate negotiator.

“The one and only,” she coolly owned, lifting her glass in salute.

He frowned, seeming to notice the subtle frost in her tone. “Lillian Reid as your mother. That must have earned you your fair share of therapy.”

She tried not to glower at him for this observation. Her attempts caused him to grin, and she felt a strange stirring in her stomach at the sight. “So you work for your mother, then?” he confirmed, getting back to the subject at hand.

She nodded.

“How long?”

“Straight out of college. You can’t expect me to confess how many years ago that’s been.”

Dane closed one eye and pretended to size her up. “Less than ten, I’d say.”

She laughed, her tension easing slightly. “They told me you could be charming.”

“Could be?”

“When you want to be.”

“Ah.” He paused. “So?” he prompted.

“So, what?”

“Am I right? Ten years or less?”

She rolled her eyes. “Twelve, if you must know. I’m thirty-three.”

He clicked his tongue. “So young.”

“As compared to your thirty-six years?”

“You have done your homework.”

She swirled the ice in her glass. “I should warn you not to underestimate me.”

He scoffed. “As Lillian Reid’s daughter, you’re probably right.” He frowned. “If you’re not taking a commission, there must be some other incentive. You didn’t come here just for the weather, after all.” His lips twisted into a smirk of disdain.

“No,” she admitted. “I didn’t.”

He returned to his seat and picked up his glass. “Not to sound arrogant, but...the salaries I’ve been offered would have provided a, let’s just say, substantial commission for you, should I accept the proposal. Any particular reason why you’re foregoing your percentage?”

She placed her glass back on the table and leaned forward. “Some things in life are worth more than money.”

He grunted in acknowledgment. “Well said.” He waited a few seconds more before querying, “You’re not going to tell me your reasons, are you?”

She leaned back in her seat but remained silent. Instead of responding, she swiveled the topic in another direction. Gesturing to the gardens before them, she observed, “It’s easy to see why you gave up what you did. The islands are beautiful.”

Relaxing farther into his seat, he followed her gaze. “This is your first trip to Hawaii?”

She nodded. “Travel comes with the job, of course, but I’ve never had the pleasure before this. You gave me a good excuse.” Her eyes returned to his, and when they met, she found herself inexplicably unsettled. Diverting her attention away once more, she tried to keep herself on solid conversational ground. Her research had prepared her for Dane Montgomery’s handsome features, square jawline and toned physique, but the reality of those liquid blue eyes and deep voice was something else entirely.

“How many employees do you keep on staff here at the inn?” she asked, anchoring herself to neutral territory.

“Three, in addition to myself. There’s a set of rooms on the other side of the inn for them. They live here with me.”

“And they’re all locals?”

He cocked his head. “Why do you want to know?”

She sighed. She had known he’d be difficult, but she hadn’t expected such open mistrust. She shrugged. “It’s an interesting endeavor—giving up the corporate life like you did, buying a coffee plantation and inn, and setting out on a new venture. I’m curious.”

“If you’ve done your homework, I’m sure you’ve read all about it already.”

“Still...reading about a legend isn’t quite the same as meeting one.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you? If you’d bothered to compose a personality profile on me, you’d realize that flattery won’t get you very far.”

He had a point. She had made that very note in the margins of her paperwork during the flight over, and already, she had made the mistake of trying to play to his vanity. She had a flash of doubt as to her ability to accomplish this task. After all, she wasn’t the first recruiter to attempt luring Dane Montgomery out of retirement.

“I apologize,” she offered, “but before you turn me down flat, you should at least read the proposal.”

He sighed and looked away, off toward the mountains in the distance. She sensed a weariness emanating from him, and rather than take advantage of this vulnerability, she attempted to alleviate it.

“I have the entire week at my disposal,” she reminded him. “And I’m certain you feel a little ambushed by my arrival. Why don’t you take the afternoon to let the idea sink in, and I can present you with the proposal later?”