“Connect me to Lana Hunter’s room, please.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. Ms. Hunter is not taking any calls.”

  What the hell?

  “Please, can you just call up and let her know I’m on the phone?”

  “I’m sorry sir, but no, she left specific instructions not to be disturbed.”

  Grant hung up. At least he knew where she was. Relief flooded through him, but he was baffled by the fact that she had left without a word. And now she wasn’t taking any calls. He wandered back to the great room and opened the doors to the lanai. The frangipani-scented night air blew in, reminding him of last night when Lana’d had the flowers in her hair.

  He pulled out his phone, about to call her, and realized he’d never gotten her cell phone number. He’d given her his card so it was up to her to call him now. He thought about going over to the hotel, but shook his head, decision made. Clearly she wanted to be alone, and he wasn’t about to go chasing, even if every muscle in his body twitched to jump back in his car and take off down the highway to her.

  If she wasn’t taking calls, she must have a good reason for it and he’d respect her privacy. The most simple explanation was that something had come up with her job. But it did aggravate him that she’d gone without a word. The least she could have done was leave a note.

  Plus, they’d made plans go to dinner tonight. He checked his watch. Another hour before their reservation. He stared out over dark water, a weight in his chest. Why did he get the feeling she wasn’t going to show?

  9

  DINNER LAST NIGHT had been excruciating. Martin had torn a strip off her, gone up one side of her and down the other about the state of her report, not replying to his messages quickly enough and she’d just sat there and let him. He’d never been a very understanding guy. All business and no-nonsense. She’d given up trying to lighten the mood and crawled back inside herself until the dinner was finally over, escaping the minute she was able.

  What kind of life did he have? She’d never looked at him as anything other than a square-headed, tough boss who pushed his employees until they found a new level of performance. And annoyance.

  The fight had gone out of her. Emotionally drained from the dinner and up all night fixing the debacle of her report she’d caught hell over for today’s meeting. She was exhausted. And now the client meeting had been moved to today. Martin hadn’t mentioned the client’s name and she was too brain-fried to think of asking, which she should have. Why was he keeping the client such a secret? This didn’t make her job any easier. Could it get any worse?

  She needed a couple of hours’ sleep before her breakfast meeting with Martin at ten. Lana went out onto the balcony and breathed in the tropical pre-dawn air. Waikiki was still asleep. It was dark, but the sunrise was starting to lighten the horizon. It reminded her of yesterday’s helicopter ride with Grant. So much had happened in just twenty-four hours that it felt like a dream.

  Part of her felt a little bad she hadn’t left a note or called to cancel the dinner plans with Grant. She’d totally forgotten about the dinner, her boss had had her so discombobulated. Lana wondered if Grant had gone anyway, and how long he might have sat there waiting for her. She pursed her lips, thinking about him at a table all alone. No, she wouldn’t feel sorry for him. After all, he hadn’t been truthful to her about his wife.

  Lana turned her back on the rising sun and drew the blackout drapes. She needed sleep for the hellish day ahead.

  * * *

  THE MORNING HAD gone by fine, if stressfully. But that was par for the course with Martin. They’d worked straight through and she was only now able to escape for a bit to find lunch. She and Martin still had a jam-packed afternoon before the dinner.

  The expansion of coffeehouses into Canada needed lots of fine tuning. She was going to propose a name change from the one Martin liked, King’ha. After some research, she’d come up with a couple of other names that she would present to the owner and CEO at dinner later. Kahiko, which in Hawaiian meant ancient, was easy to pronounce and lent an exotic flavor, or Honu, which meant turtle. Honu sounded a little more “Hawaiian” to her ears—and she loved sea turtles, too.

  She frowned, since turtles reminded her of the first night she’d spent with Grant. He’d spoken of the sea turtles in the pool by the beach where an ancient king had kept a bunch stashed for whenever he had a taste for them. And the coffee project only succeeded in reminding her of the morning after their night of sweet love.

  Lana didn’t want to think of Grant now. She’d managed the whole day and most of last evening to keep him out of her thoughts and now all it took was the thought of a turtle to have him crashing back into them.

  She wandered through the hotel, a bottle of water in one hand and a pastry in the other. Epic fail, because even that reminded her of the bakery Grant had taken her to. She had to shake him off. Maybe some sand between her toes would do the trick. She made her way toward the Banyan Courtyard.

  On the veranda, Lana paused, inhaling and loving all the different smells. Everything from flowers to food to coconut-scented suntan lotion wafted on the breeze. She raised her face and closed her eyes, allowing herself to get lost in the pleasant sensation, doing her best to not let sultry memories of her time with Grant invade the peaceful moment.

  He’d gotten under her skin a lot more than she’d first thought. Sighing, she walked down the steps toward the pool. Not really dressed for a stroll on the beach in her knee-length pencil skirt and three-quarter-length sleeved blouse, Lana toed off her shoes and kicked them under a chair before weaving her way between the sunbathers.

  It was a bit cloudy today, the sun peeping out now and then with a hint of rain in the air. It kind of made her feel better and matched her mood. She wasn’t missing any of the glorious Hawaiian sun being cooped up all day and night when she should have been enjoying the rest of her vacation that Martin has intruded upon. It was still hot, though, and she undid the top buttons on her blouse, pulling it apart to let the breeze flow in.

  She stood at the edge of the surf waiting for the waves to crawl up the beach and splash over her feet. Even the water was warm, but it was refreshing. She finished off her pastry, not really wanting to go back inside. Standing for a few more minutes she gazed out over the turquoise waters of Waikiki Bay. Her phone buzzed, and she quickly pulled it from her bra. A flash of disappointment swept through her when she saw it wasn’t Grant. Only micromanaging Martin.

  She shook her head and cursed under her breath. “Can I not even have a few minutes to myself?” She nearly pitched the phone into the waves.

  Not for the first time Lana wondered if she should start looking for another position. When she got back to Toronto she’d list herself on an executive search engine. Tonight she would change her LinkedIn profile to reflect that she was interested in new opportunities. The phone buzzed again.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” she told it and turned off the ringer. Back to the grind. She took her time, dragging her feet in the sand and walking back up to the pool—taking the long way—before fishing her shoes out from under the chair. She put her game face on and made her way to Martin’s penthouse suite, which was doubling as their meeting room.

  Strolling through the gracious lobby to the elevator, Lana glanced at the chair Grant had been sitting in that night when he came to pick her up. It seemed a lifetime ago, not just a few days. Her heart clenched, and finally she admitted it to herself—she missed him. For the first time since she took off yesterday, she wondered if she might have jumped to conclusions and misunderstood the photos.

  As she rode up to the penthouse, Lana decided she would give Grant a call tonight. He’d shown her such a good time—she needed to be more gracious.

  * * *

  “OKAY, THEN, LOOKS like we’re good,” Martin announced. He stood, walked over to the bar by the window and poured himself a drink of water. Lana watched him, relieved their marathon of number crunching and strategic planning was done.

  “Then I think I’m going to go to my room for a bit.” Lana piled all the papers neatly.

  “Why?” Martin asked. “You need to be here for the next meeting.”

  Lana let out a frustrated sigh. Martin gave her a surprised look and quite frankly she didn’t care. “Because I’ve been stuck in this room all day and in my hotel room most of yesterday and last night. I need a moment to myself.”

  “You had a break at lunch.” He turned his back on her and gazed out the window, then looked at his watch. “He should be arriving any time.” There was a knock at the door the moment as he finished speaking and Martin shot her a superior smile. “Right on time.” Martin greeted the businessman at the door. “Mr. Rankin, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  Rankin? Lana sat up a little taller. Why did that name sound familiar? The sound of footsteps approached and in that moment she remembered a business card given to her on a plane a couple of days ago. Was it really Grant?

  Lana swiveled in the seat, and when the men entered the room she stood up with a sharp intake of breath. “This is Ms. Hunter.” Little did he know that she knew Mr. Rankin a hell of a lot better than Martin would ever imagine.

  Lana met Grant’s gaze. Had she seen a flash of surprise, pleasure, before it shuttered to an unreadable expression? She saw a muscle work in his jaw, a new set to his lips she hadn’t seen before and a pinched expression at the edge of his eyes.

  She’d never seen him angry or upset, and if she had to guess, this was it. She clasped her hands behind her back and shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the next, suddenly feeling very exposed.

  “Lana! Don’t just stand there and be rude,” Martin barked.

  “It’s quite okay.” Grant interjected and stepped toward her. His hand was out and she dropped her gaze to it, remembering all the delights he and that hand had given her. No matter how hard she might try to forget, Lana knew he would always be the best lover she’d ever had. And the one that she had run from.

  But now wasn’t the time to get lost in sensual thoughts. He was a client, paying their company a lot of money to do their due diligence.

  “Ms. Hunter.” His voice was monotone. She glanced up into his face, but she couldn’t see any emotion there.

  When his fingers closed over hers she nearly melted into a puddle at the charge that crackled between them, and she tried desperately to keep her voice even. “Mr. Rankin.”

  Grant tightened his hold on her so she couldn’t pull her hand from his grip. Her gaze was locked with his, and her heart tumbled when she saw a fleeting expression of pain behind his chocolaty eyes.

  She’d hurt him.

  Martin moved behind Grant, and her attention was drawn to him. He was looking at her with a stern expression and sharply nodding his head to her seat. She still couldn’t pull her hand from Grant’s and was relieved when Martin spoke.

  “Now, then, shall we get down to business? The sooner we can wrap this up, the sooner we can head to dinner. I’ve had a table reserved on the veranda so we can take in the sunset over a fine meal.”

  Rather than letting her go, Grant guided her to the table and pulled out a chair for her with his free hand. As she moved to seat herself she froze—Grant’s fingers touched her back and swept up her spine as she plopped very ungracefully into the chair. She shivered when he stroked up her neck and tried to keep herself from panting. Why was he torturing her so? Glancing under her brows at Martin, hoping he hadn’t noticed, she was relieved to see he was standing at the bar pouring water for them all.

  “Stop,” Lana whispered, switching her gaze up to Grant, who stood unbearably close to her.

  But he didn’t do as she asked and stroked her neck lightly before trailing his fingers down her shoulder.

  “You never complained before.” His expression was still unreadable, but the pinched look around his eyes seemed to be softening.

  Martin turned to them and Grant took the chair next to her, leaning back as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His muscular legs, encased in very well-made trousers, spread wide. She did a double take, noticing the pleasant bulge in his pants, which only made her blood rush hotter through her veins.

  She forced herself to look away, only to find herself gawking at his arms crossed over his massive chest. She needed a cool drink of water to dampen the fire he’d just ignited inside her. Lana scrambled for one of the glasses Martin had just placed on the table, but as she reached for it, the press of Grant’s solid thigh against hers nearly had her catapulting out of her chair. She knocked the cut crystal glass, spilling water over the table.

  “Oh, no!” she blurted. She quickly grabbed the glass, trying to set it right but only scattering droplets of water across the paperwork and making the glass roll crazily.

  “Lana, for God’s sake, stop.” Martin lurched up, grabbing the papers to safety. “Please calm down and go get a towel.”

  She needed no further encouragement and fled to the bathroom, thankful for a moment to regain her composure. She shut the door behind her, put her hands on her head and sucked in a deep breath.

  Get a grip, girl.

  She looked in the mirror and patted her cheeks, trying to snap herself out of her sudden insecurity. She tucked her hair behind her ears, grabbed a towel and went out to take care of her mess.

  One way or another, she had to face Grant without making a complete fool of herself.

  10

  “SILLY GIRL,” MARTIN MUTTERED as Lana dashed to the bathroom.

  Grant had a rash of confusing emotions when he saw Lana standing across the room, against the backdrop of the beautiful vista outside the penthouse’s large windows. His heart had lurched painfully in his chest, and it had taken all his willpower not to rush over to her, demand to know why she taken off. It was thoughtless of her and a new side he hadn’t anticipated seeing in her. Not to mention her no-show at dinner last night. Yet here she was. In the flesh.

  He’d play along and see where she would take this. If he had to pretend he didn’t know her so her boss wouldn’t suspect anything, then that would be fine. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t make her squirm along the way. He knew which buttons to press to trigger a response in her. The first one had been helping her to her seat and running his fingers up her spine, feeling her shiver. And hearing her soft sigh was music to his ears.

  His cock thickened and his balls grew heavy, a reaction he hadn’t really expected and that effectively foiled his plan of teasing her. Getting himself seated to hide his hard-on had become paramount. Then he’d pressed his leg to hers, the need to keep feeling her overpowering.

  Before Martin could rant about Lana’s clumsiness, Grant interrupted him. “No worries, it was just an accident and it’s only water.”

  “It was carelessness. She’s not been herself these last couple of days and I must apologize for her lack of professionalism.”

  Grant wasn’t about to allow him to bash Lana, so he shut Martin down in a deep, firm voice. “I said, it’s no problem.” Martin stilled and looked at him, surprised. Clearly, he wasn’t used to people challenging him.

  So Lana “hadn’t been herself” lately? Interesting.

  “Right, well, she should be out momentarily.” Martin didn’t speak again until Lana returned with a towel.

  “Here, Lana, give me that.” Grant reached out for it.

  “No, it’s fine. I can do it.”

  Grant placed his fingers on her forearm, and gently took the towel from her. “Relax, it’s okay.” He cast a quick glance at Martin, as if to remind him to let it go.

  “Th-thanks. I’m sorry.”

  Grant turned, his gaze connecting with Lana’s. Her lower lip trembled, and suddenly he wanted to wrap his arms around her and make it all better.

  “For what? It’s only water.” Grant smiled, hoping she’d ease up on herself.

  “For everything.” She gave him a steady look.

  Yes, they needed to talk after this meeting. About a number of things.

  * * *

  LANA WAS DYING. Couldn’t wait for this meeting to be over so she could talk to Grant alone. She fidgeted, causing Martin to send her stern-eyed glances every now and then, so she focused on the paperwork in front of her, aware of the steady press of Grant’s thigh against hers.

  She felt his energy, his sexuality radiating off him in heavy waves, wrapping around her in a teasing and erotic haze. More importantly, she felt something else. Something deeper, sweeter, and it filled her with wonder. Sure, she needed to explain her rapid departure yesterday, but he needed to explain a few things, too. Why hadn’t he told her he was owner of this company? As she thought back over their time together, the comments about coffee became clues. He’d had any number of opportunities to tell her who he was. Why had he hidden it?

  Then it dawned on her. The house on the big island, the coffee plantation—did he own those, too? Out of the corner of her eye she saw Martin give her another stare, which she ignored as she turned to look at Grant. She met his gaze. Her increasing clarity and understanding made her angry. He’d been lying to her all along. Just what was the truth about him? Grant’s smile slowly turned to a frown and his brows furrowed, likely because Lana knew her feelings were showing. And she didn’t care.

  She’d been hobnobbing and having sex with a very wealthy and sound businessman, probably a married one. A man with lots of secrets and lies. Not just the little white kind, but big, impactful ones. Ones that reflected a personality of deception. The more she thought about the secrets, the less guilty she felt about leaving him so suddenly. She was pissed.

  Lana moved her thigh from his and slid the chair away a bit wanting—needing—to put space between them. He was still watching her, a frown curving his very kissable lips. Lana didn’t break their gaze and fought to keep eye contact with him. Stop thinking about kissing him. You’re mad at him and he needs to know that.

  For the remainder of the meeting, Lana kept her focus on the job at hand, doing her best to ignore the distraction of Grant’s closeness. Which made her frustrated in more ways than one.