11. Piper
PIPER
Iwas officially in paradise.
Lush, tropical, flower-scented paradise, complete with the promise of a waterfall somewhere in the distance. How was this my job?
Adding to the strangeness was the fact that I was holding hands with the man I used to detest, who I now had to admit I actually liked.
From the start, I’d assumed that Vincent was this emotionally stunted, closed-off bosshole who only cared about his bottom line, but he was slowly revealing that he was so much more.
His concern for this father and Nana Dee, and his willingness to share his vulnerable side with me on the flight over, had given me unexpected insights into the puzzle that was Vincent Forde.
I hoped he’d give me the chance to keep figuring him out.
Thankfully, the Sullivans had warmed to him too. They’d given us a tour of their stunning home, and we were now checking out our private bungalow, which was down the hill from the main house.
Our accommodations were what I’d call “fancy Hawaiian rustic”—soaring, bleached wood paneled vaulted ceiling and a wall of windows on the back side with white billowy curtains blowing in the breeze. It was quiet luxury with a focus on comfort and honoring the environment.
“This way, this way,” Jean beckoned cheerfully as she walked through the space. “I want you to see the view from the back.”
“You’re not going to believe it,” Joe added with a wink.
Vincent pulled me along until the four of us were looking out the open back wall, gazing out over the rolling fields of heliotrope. Miles of purple stretched out before us, the occasional flicker of pink and white wildflowers breaking through the violet sea.
No wonder the space smelled so sweet.
“It’s perfect,” Vincent said with awe.
I knew he was thinking about the harvest, but it sounded like real appreciation for the natural beauty of the land.
“We’re pretty proud of it,” Joe said. “Glad you’re here to see it.”
I held my breath. Whatever Vincent said next could make or break the entire trip.
I’d secured us the time with the Sullivans, but we still needed to jump through the hoops they presented in order to get to the contract stage.
And Vincent had to prove there was more to him than the jackass they’d met at the engagement party.
He turned to Joe. “I’m honored that you trust this harvest to Summit. Your contribution is the key to Evermore’s success, and we love that your farm’s DNA will always be a part of it. Thank you for all of this.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Humble. Appreciative.
Kind. And most importantly, real. This wasn’t Vincent putting on a show for the Sullivans; he truly meant it.
He knew how precious the blooms were to them, and he would put his good name on the line to make sure their land and legacy were cared for.
“It’s our great pleasure,” Joe replied.
The two men regarded one another for a few seconds, as if they were silently sealing the deal.
“Now, come see the outdoor shower!” Jean said as she scurried down a hallway.
Joe followed right behind her, leaving us bringing up the rear.
“Outdoor shower?” Vincent muttered to me under his breath. “What is this, summer camp?”
Ah, there he was. He hadn’t lost his edge after all.
“Stop,” I whispered, giving him a soft punch to the gut that only made him chuckle.
I forced myself to ignore how hard his stomach was against my fist. Like granite.
I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the possibility of showering outside either until I saw what Jean meant.
We stepped into an oasis of a bathroom, where the white porcelain soaking tub bordered a completely open-air space with two waterfall shower heads.
The privacy wall that blocked off the area was made of black volcanic rock, and the vines and tree branches grew down on it as if it was a natural part of the environment.
“Okay, wow,” I breathed.
“Have you ever tried an outdoor shower?” Jean asked.
I shook my head.
“Not one like this,” Vincent said. “I used a makeshift one when I was summiting a mountain, but that was a very different experience.”
Joe chuckled. “Let’s just say two shower heads mean twice the fun.”
It took a second for me to understand what he meant. I blushed, unable to stop myself from picturing it, even though there was no way Vincent and I were going to shower together.
Although…it wasn’t the worst idea I’d heard. I glanced over at him and tried to imagine how he’s look under the cascading water, head back, eyes closed, with me on my knees in front of him.
STOP IT.
What I wouldn’t give to see him wet.
Focus!
“I’m looking forward to giving it a try,” Vincent said, forcing me to stop thinking about gripping his naked ass. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, then planted a kiss on the top of my head.
So many sparklers went off along my spine. How were we going to manage this?
“Aww,” Jean sighed. “You two are so sweet together. I can’t wait to hear all about your story over dinner tonight. I know you’re both probably exhausted, so should we meet at six?”
I was ready to do whatever it took to sell our love story, but I was happy they wanted an early dinner, because I was already feeling the time change.
“Works for us, right, hon?” Vincent asked me.
“It gives me just enough time to freshen up,” I replied.
“Do you dress for dinner?” Vincent asked.
I started to make a crack about a nude meal but thought better of it.
“Most of the time, we follow island rules,” Joe laughed. “Flip-flops are considered ‘dressed.’ Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”
Thanks to Vincent’s assistant Linda, I had a suitcase filled with options.
We’d gone on a quick shopping trip with Vincent’s card at his insistence, saying that since it was a business trip, it was the business’s responsibility to make sure I had everything I needed, including clothes to suit the occasion.
Even though he’d told me to get whatever I wanted, it took Linda’s gentle push to get me to pile up my choices on the counter at the fancy boutique he’d suggested.
“You two rest up, or do whatever,” Jean winked at us. “See you at six—come hungry.”
They walked out holding hands, leaving us alone.
“I guess I should unpack,” I said. I was happy to have a task to keep busy because the reality of what we were doing was slowly dawning on me.
Spending the night. In the same room. With my hot-as-fuck boss.
“That’s been taken care of. Check the closet,” Vincent called after me.
I frowned. What? No way. I pulled open the door to the room-sized closet and sure enough, every outfit was perfectly pressed and hung.
What was I supposed to do now to keep from obsessing about the beautiful man who kept staring at me?
“Come out here and join me,” Vincent’s voice rang down the hall, like he could sense my stress.
He was stretched out on a hammock on the porch with his hands clasped behind his head.
I pretended to rub my eyes and gawk at him. “What? Vincent Forde knows how to kick back and relax?”
“It’s not like I have much choice,” he retorted, his voice a lazy drawl that sent a shiver up my spine. “I need to embrace this whole ‘island time’ vibe if I want to get the contract signed. You should too.”
He pointed at the hammock next to his, and I gingerly started to lower myself into it. There was something about the way he watched me. Maybe it was the tropical heat, or maybe it was just him—but my heart thudded in my chest.
“Careful, they’re tippy,” Vincent said.
The warning came too late. I didn’t calculate how to counterbalance my body weight, and the thing flipped me onto my ass with a thump.
“Shit!” Vincent exclaimed. “Are you okay?”
He leaned over abruptly, and his hammock jiggled dangerously. For a split second, I was certain he was going to tumble down on top of me. I was half hoping for it.
I was facing the ground on my hands and one knee with my shoulders shaking from laughter. My other foot dangled in the air, caught in the hammock’s tassels.
“Piper?” Vincent demanded, probably because he couldn’t tell I was laughing. “Are you hurt?”
“No kidding they’re tippy,” I said through my tears of laughter.
He reached out to help me up. When I took his hand, I gave it a yank. His hammock nearly did a three-sixty before it dumped him on the ground next to me.
“Piper,” he growled, flat on his ass. The way he said my name—low, almost dangerous—made my stomach flip.
I bit my lip to hold back more laughter, but the sight of him sprawled there, hair slightly mussed, had me losing it again. He tried to keep his scowl, but eventually he cracked. Vincent Forde knew how to laugh, apparently.
And damn it, it did something to me. I’d promised myself to be on my best behavior given the whole work trip, future-of-the-company aspect, but this new and adorable version of Vincent was weakening my defenses.
We finally managed to collect ourselves, still grinning like idiots. He stood up first, offering me his hand again, and when he pulled me up, he drew me so close I could smell the faint scent of his cologne, clean and woodsy and utterly unnerving.
“You’re overtired and punch drunk,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over my temple. “It’s going to be a long night.”
My laughter subsided as reality hit. I glanced toward the bungalow, and there it was—a single bed down the hall.
Yup. It sure was going to be a very long night.
If I was grading our performance as a couple, I’d give us an A+. We were so adorable over dinner that even I started believing we were the real deal.
As expected, the meal was an impeccable selection of local fruits and vegetables, paired with seafood Joe told us had been caught just hours before. We were finally finishing dessert, and thanks to all the food, champagne, and jet lag, I could hardly keep my eyes open.
But I was having the best time ever.