Cerella Sechrist - Gentle Persuasion

“And what are your plans for your stay, Ophelia? I believe your assistant said you were on a business trip?” Leilani questioned.

“Yes, I’m actually here to present your boss with an offer to return to the mainland. As the Creative Marketing Director of Towers Resorts International.”

“Towers Resorts? Aren’t they opening a resort in Waikiki?” Keahi questioned.

Ophelia nodded in acknowledgment. “Yes, among a few others. It’s part of an ongoing expansion project. However, Bianca Towers, who inherited the company following her uncle’s death, is striving for a new image, and she’d like your boss to lead the way for her.”

“He’s retired,” Pele flatly informed.

Dane said nothing and waited for Ophelia’s response.

“I understand, but your boss was the best the business world has seen in terms of innovation and success in the advertising and marketing field. It’s why he still receives offers, even three years into his retirement.”

She slid a glance his way, but he refused to react to this praise. He had heard the same drivel spouted endlessly for years—it failed to penetrate anymore. He was proud of his previous successes, but he felt driven by his newest challenge—cultivating coffee. Ophelia spoke of his old life, and he was only interested in the new.

Leilani, however, looked at him with a curious gaze. “Is that true? Were you really as good as she says?”

He reached for his coffee. “Headhunters exaggerate.”

“Recruiters,” Ophelia corrected, and he felt gratified by the way her jaw tightened on the word, “focus on potential.”

“Well, my potential has been refocused. Here. To this plantation.”

She met his gaze with a determined one of her own. “Perhaps you’d like to hear the terms of the proposal before you dismiss it out of hand?”

“After breakfast,” Dane relented, knowing he’d have to at least look at the offer. She wouldn’t give up until he did, and they might as well get the formalities out of the way so he could focus on running his plantation. “Deal,” Ophelia declared, the one word causing him to cringe as if it indicated he’d agreed to the contract.

Ophelia must have noticed his reaction because she frowned. “My suite is beautiful,” she said, as if this one compliment could make up for her being here.

“Ms. Reid—”

“Ophelia,” she again corrected.

“Ophelia,” he repeated with a nod in her direction, “is staying in the Liliuokalani suite.”

“Without a husband,” Pele tacked on as she settled into her own seat.

“I believe Lili-uo-kalani,” Ophelia pronounced the name with care, “was a forward-thinking lady, was she not? Surely she would approve of a single woman renting a suite that bears her name.”

Pele clucked her tongue. “What do you know of Liliuokalani?”

Ophelia’s grin seemed slightly smug, Dane thought. “I know she reigned as Hawaii’s last sovereign before the monarchy was overthrown around the turn of the previous century. She became queen following her brother’s death. David Kalakaua—am I saying that right?—who had named her his successor when he had no children to inherit the throne. A terrible injustice, the way she was imprisoned in Iolani Palace for a year and then later forced to abdicate. It is a fitting name for such a lovely suite, by the way.”

Dane stared at Ophelia following this unexpected flow of information. His gaze shifted to find Pele’s eyes narrowed to slits but then she gave a nod of approval. “You should eat more. You’re too skinny.”

Pele moved to pile another stack of waffles onto Ophelia’s plate. She nudged the syrup within easy reach. Dane eyed Ophelia again until she glanced his way, and then he arched his eyebrow in question at her newfound knowledge.

“I looked it up,” she confessed as she unfolded her napkin and smoothed it across her lap. “Your free Wi-Fi amenity is quite good here.”

He found himself fascinated by her confident demeanor, and the way she licked her lips before cutting into a section of waffle. The movements held him mesmerized, the length of her fingers, the curve of her wrist...until Keahi cleared his throat, and Dane shook himself back to awareness.

Ophelia didn’t seem to notice his distraction. “I only managed a brief glance at the property on my way in yesterday. Tell me more about the coffee plantation.”

Dane hesitated, uncertain why a recruiting headhunter wished to know about his life here unless she planned to use it in her arguments somehow. The air around the table grew thick with tension as he waited, studying Ophelia’s face. She remained turned toward him, her expression open and genuinely curious. He could feel the rest of his staff waiting for him to respond.

“There are fifteen acres, and about 2,500 coffee trees. We also have an orchard with mangoes, papayas, bananas and coconuts. Most of the fruit you’re served here at the inn is harvested from the plantation. We sit at an elevation of 1,200 feet above Kealakekua Bay, but we’re a short drive to some of the best attractions you’ll find anywhere, including snorkeling, swimming, historic spots, shopping and tours.”

“Yes, your brochure was most impressive,” she noted, and Dane frowned, realizing he had repeated most of what was already in their literature.

“So, why coffee?” Ophelia questioned as she speared a bite of sausage. “Why Hawaii?”

“Why not?” he countered. “Coffee is one of the world’s most sought-after commodities, and Hawaii is paradise.”

“But don’t you ever miss the city?” she pressed.

He leveled his gaze on her. “The concrete, the press of people, the exhaust fumes?”

“The accessibility, the high-rises, the adrenaline?”

“Didn’t we agree we’d negotiate after breakfast?”

To his consternation, he felt that same warmth spreading through his stomach as Ophelia Reid grinned brightly at him and didn’t say another word.

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER FINISHING HER proposal outlining the generous offer from Towers Resorts International, Ophelia was gratified to witness a slight break in Dane’s composure. He leaned back in his chair on the lanai and eyed her carefully.

“Those are some impressively decadent figures. Color me flattered. But I have to disagree on my worth—my skills hardly do such a number justice.”

“Bianca Towers would disagree. She feels you’re worth every penny of that price.”

“Ms. Towers is a spoiled brat, from what I’ve read,” Dane commented.

“Ms. Towers is quite concerned with the future image of Towers Resorts International. Her uncle’s passing and her subsequent inheritance of the company have created a media furor.”

“I noticed,” Dane dryly remarked. “Those photos of her, passed out drunk in the back of that rock star’s limo, were really in poor taste, even for the paparazzi.”

“Mmm, exactly. She needs a solid team behind her, to reestablish her company as a worldwide mecca of luxury and refinement.”

“And Ms. Towers feels she needs me to accomplish this?”

Ophelia leaned forward in her own seat and cocked her head. “Come now, Dane, don’t be modest. How many companies was it that you turned around during your time in the corporate spotlight?”

He scowled at her, but she would not be deterred.

“Take the case of the Heston Group alone. They were on the verge of bankruptcy from bad investments and poor media relations, and you stepped in at the last minute, raising them from the ashes and placing them within the top three companies in their field. Time magazine did an entire feature on it.”

“I don’t do that kind of work anymore,” he insisted. “And there are plenty of others who do. Go dangle your enormous salaries in front of one of them.” In his agitation, he stood and began pacing in front of the patio’s railing.