Just This Once

  By Rosalind James

  Text copyright 2012 Rosalind James

  All Rights Reserved

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  New Zealand Map

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Epilogue

  Links

  Just Good Friends—Prologue

  Just Good Friends—Chapter 1

  Just Good Friends—Chapter 2

  New Zealand Map

  Prologue

  “Wow. Welcome to New Zealand.”

  Hannah said the words aloud. There was nobody around to hear her, after all. Despite the chill lingering in the morning air, she stood where she was for a few seconds more. The turquoise sea beckoned, its border of golden sand strewn with pale scallop shells left behind by the receding tide. It was exactly where she’d longed to be, these past weeks. And it was everything she’d hoped.

  She dropped her towel and sandals and stepped into the cool water. Aiming towards the point at the far end of the bay, she delighted in her steady progress. Her mind settled down into the familiar rhythm, focused only on her strokes and her breath as the minutes went by.

  Looking up at last to check her position, she felt a twinge of alarm. Had she not been swimming straight? The point was in the wrong place, wasn’t it? She treaded water, turned in a circle. Realized with shock that she’d come much farther than she’d expected. What had felt like her own fast pace had in fact been a powerful current in the outgoing tide. One that was doing its best now to pull her out to sea.

  No need to panic, she told herself firmly. All right, she was in some kind of rip tide. Now that she had stopped swimming, she could feel its strength. But she knew what to do, didn’t she? She had to swim across it, that was all. This happened to people all the time. She would aim for a course parallel to the shore rather than trying to force her way directly back against the current’s full power. Once she escaped the band of rip, she could turn back toward shore again. Back to safety.

  She changed directions deliberately, swam strongly and steadily, working on maintaining her parallel course. Her progress, though, seemed discouragingly slow. The rip was wider than she had anticipated. It might even have shifted, a nervous little voice whispered in the back of her mind. She had heard that could happen.

  She forced that treacherous voice back with an effort. She couldn’t do anything about it now, other than what she was already doing. Keep swimming parallel, she told herself fiercely. She could swim for an hour without stopping, she knew. That meant she could swim even longer if she had to. Eventually, she would get out of this. Willing herself to stay calm, counting her strokes, she made it to 100, then 200.

  And felt the change as she was caught by another, stronger rip. She had swum straight into it, and was once again being pulled out inexorably with the current.

  The first stirrings of real panic shortened her breath. She forced the fear back, focused on breathing with her strokes, and began to count again. 100 strokes, she told herself. Count. Breathe. But as she counted off 60, then 70, she could feel herself tiring, and knew she was losing the battle.

  Where were the people? She hadn’t seen a soul when she entered the water. Nobody knew where she was, and there was nobody to see her struggling. Nobody to help her. Nobody to save her.

  How could this be happening?

  All she had wanted was a vacation.

  Chapter 1

  “I need a vacation.”

  Hannah Montgomery blew out a frustrated breath on the words. She was running late. And she hated to be late, hated feeling rushed and flustered. The meeting started in half an hour, and she had planned to get there early so she could review her notes beforehand.

  She was ready, though. She had spent the entire previous evening preparing her materials, after all. She took one last quick look in the mirror. Professional and neat, check. Dark gray slacks, fitted blouse, heavy hair subdued in its usual neat, braided coil. She looked fine. She was fine.

  Grabbing her laptop case and double-checking that she had all the files she needed, she headed for the car. The 15-minute drive across Berkeley to her office would settle her down and help her focus on the day ahead. She wasn’t going to be late, just not early. It was going to be all right.

  But her usual tools—the classical music on the car stereo, yoga breaths, her morning run, even her pep talk—weren’t doing the trick this time. Instead, she kept thinking back to the phone conversation with her sister that had delayed her. And worrying.

  If worrying were an Olympic sport, she thought ruefully, she’d have at least one gold medal, for sure. But there was Kristen, rushing into “love” with another guy, who had cheated on her and broken her heart. Again. Well, she’d calmed Kristen down, and that would have to do for now. She’d call tomorrow and see if she could help her sister make a plan.

  Shaking it off and putting thoughts of Kristen firmly into their designated compartment in her mind, Hannah took a few more of those yoga breaths. Pulling to a stop in front of the large building that housed TriStyle Woman’s offices, she gave herself a final onceover in the car mirror and headed toward the conference room for The Ordeal.

  Beth met her at the door. “I beat you today,” her second-in-command teased. “First time that’s ever happened. Usually Miss Prepared is here fifteen minutes early for these things, putting the rest of us to shame.”

  “Kristen called,” Hannah sighed. “Another breakup.”

  Beth squeezed her arm in sympathy. “Well, you know there’s nothing like The Ordeal to give you plenty of time away from your problems.”

  “I know. I went for a run this morning, just to pep myself up and put myself in a positive frame of mind.”

  “Then I’ll be watching you, boss. I expect to see some of that post-endorphin serenity.”

  Hannah laughed and moved to set up her place at the conference table. By the time she had her laptop, notes, and materials arranged just as she liked them, the room was beginning to fill. And The Ordeal had begun.

  She couldn’t remember who had first named it The Ordeal. Probably Emery. The irrepressible Product Director had a wicked sense of humor that kept them all looking at the funny side of TriStyle Woman’s office politics—and their boss, Felix Meister.

  And speak of the devil, here was Felix now, his horns practically showing. The Ordeal was his favorite time of the season. Emery claimed that he enjoyed it because he knew how much they all hated it, but Beth pointed out that Felix would have had to understand his staff’s feelings for that to be true.

  Ominously, he was carrying a stack of catalogs. Hannah groaned inwardly. She knew what this meant. Another suggestion that they copy another company’s product line. Reminding herself of those endorphins, she waited to see what it was this time.

  Felix didn’t disappoint. Two long hours into the all-day product meeting, he launched into his latest brainwave.

  “I was reviewing some other sportswear catalogs, and I noticed they have a much larger swimsuit line than we do. Take a look at these, and tell me what you think,” he began, pulling out catalogs and projecting one website after another displaying slinky, sexy string bikinis and high-fashion suits.

  “I also looked at the fashion magazines,” he continued, passing around a selection of magazines with pages marked. “With, as you can see, the same results. If anything, even more emphasis on color and trim. And, obviously, smaller, sexier suits.”

  Finally, he produced the coup de grace—last summer’s TriStyle Woman catalog.

  “Compare the suits you’ve just seen to the ones we carry,” he pronounced triumphantly. “Most of our suits are one-pieces, and the two-pieces are so utilitarian. And we don’t have any bikinis at all. I did some research, and found that bikinis are the most popular swimsuit style among women 18 to 34. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you all that our average customer age is 28. Lots of women buy a new swimsuit every year, and the average woman has three swimsuits. Three!”

  “So why,” he wound up for the big finish, “aren’t we doing more in this market? Why is our swimsuit section so small and so boring? We can change that, and we should. I’m thinking we double our swimsuit line for summer, and make it much sexier. Double space in the catalog, double space in the stores. Really make a splash, if you’ll excuse the pun.” He chuckled with satisfaction and sleeked back his thinning black hair, looking around expectantly.

  Emery was, as always, the first to speak into the stunned silence. “Could it be,” he drawled, “that we don’t carry tiny bikinis because we’re a . . . fitness company? Do you think the models in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition swam up to the beach in those suits? Is that why they’re all wet and sandy?”


>   The two assistants sitting at the end of the table giggled, and Felix flushed angrily.

  Here we go, Hannah thought. She stepped into the breach. “I think what Emery is trying to say,” she began as she flashed a quick warning glance at the Product Director, “is that the swimsuits you see in those catalogs are certainly popular and attractive. But they’re not what our customer is coming to our stores or catalog to find. The reason our swimsuits all look so athletic is that you can’t do a serious swim in a string bikini or a bandeau top. We know that our customer doesn’t necessarily do triathlons. But she thinks she might train for one soon. And she’s buying our products for her workouts, as you know.”

  She adopted her best serious, diplomatic tone, while trying not to sound patronizing. “But you have made me realize that we may be too conservative with the cuts and colors we’re choosing. Emery and Beth, maybe you could do a broader search and see what styles and brands we might add to give more pop to our swimsuit line. I think Felix makes a good point. No reason our customer can’t look good while she works out, right? And maybe she wants more than one suit, one for her serious workouts, and another for when she goes on vacation, with a little racier cut. Felix, could you leave us those magazines for reference when you leave today?”

  Felix looked mollified, Beth and Emery made a note, and Hannah gave herself a mental thumbs-up. Another crisis averted. And how many more to go?

  Lunch, as always, was sandwiches brought into the room, offering no chance for a real break. By five-thirty, Hannah had a pounding headache behind one temple and was more than ready for the meeting to end. Several more interactions had required handling with tact, but she thought she had been fairly successful. Now, though, she just wanted to go home.

  When Felix suggested she walk him out to his car, she knew she would have one more chance to bring her diplomacy skills out for an airing that day.

  He didn’t waste any time. “I’m getting pretty tired of Emery’s attitude,” he complained as they left the building. “Does he know who signs the checks? I’ve been thinking of replacing him anyway. He’s awfully expensive. I’m sure we could find a young person just out of school who’d be glad to grow into the job, at a fraction of his salary. With the job market the way it is, there are lots of hungry people out there.”

  Hannah reminded herself that it was Felix’s ego talking. Probably. She stood for a few seconds before responding, slowing him down and forcing him to focus on her.

  “Of course,” she answered slowly, “You’ll do what you think is best for the company. And that’s your prerogative. But I should point out that Emery is the best I’ve seen. You know our sales are up 34% since he joined the company two years ago. I don’t think that is a coincidence, do you? Do you have any problem with the job he does?”

  “And you know,” she continued, after Felix had reluctantly admitted Emery’s talent, “our team works really well. I’d hate to disrupt that. I’m not sure we could be as effective with someone else in that slot.”

  “And most of all,” she finished, blue eyes wide and sincere and looking straight at Felix, “I’m concerned that not everyone would stay if Emery left. Getting rid of him, if it were perceived as a move to save money by hiring someone cheap and not as good, would be a signal that I don’t think you’d want to send.”

  “Oh, I’d never do that,” Felix blustered. “Of course, if you feel that way about it . . . But you’d better talk to him. He can’t get away with being so disrespectful.”

  “You’re right, of course. And I will definitely bring it up with him. But,” she offered cheerfully, “I thought on the whole, the meeting went very well, didn’t you? I’m excited about the new lines.”

  With relief, she saw that he was willing to let her shift the conversation, and she soon had him in his low-slung sports car and on his way. Giving herself a mental shake, she turned around and headed back into the building.

  I need a glass of wine, she thought. A big glass of wine. And a bubble bath.

  Back in the building, Emery was whacking his head theatrically on the “Stress Relief Device: Bang Head Here” sign on the wall of the office Hannah shared with Beth. The sign got a workout every time Felix came in.

  “Bikinis!” he moaned. “Hannah, you fool, why haven’t you realized the potential of . . . the Brazilian Thong in the fitness market? Fio dental, the dental floss bikini! How did I miss that it was triathlon gear?”

  “Yes,” Hannah said severely, “but you were bad, Emery. You know you were. OK, I’ll admit, I had a hard time not laughing. But it isn’t actually a bad idea, once we water it down a bit. And you shouldn’t set him off like that. Can’t you be just a little more tactful? Could you wait two seconds instead of the words coming into your head and right out of your mouth? You’re going to push him too far one of these days. And I might not be able to save you.”

  “I can’t help it,” Emery complained. “You know as well as I do, the guy’s an idiot. I swear, I’m self-medicating before the next Ordeal.”

  “I don’t like them any more than you do,” Beth put in. “But we are lucky he’s not here every day. At least he knows that we know how to do our jobs, and he lets us do them, more or less.”

  “You’re right,” Hannah sighed as she sank into her chair, kicked off her shoes, and wiggled her toes. “We aren’t going to get this kind of experience anyplace else. Put in the years, grow the company, move up. That’s our plan.”

  Chapter 2

  An hour later, relaxing at last in that bubble bath, Hannah reluctantly admitted that it was getting harder to keep the plan in mind. It had all seemed so straightforward seven long years ago, when she had been an eager new college graduate with ambition and energy to burn. These past few months, though, she had begun to question her goals. It wasn’t just the stress, the twelve-hour days, and the trouble she’d been having in getting to sleep. It was the tiny tic at the corner of her eye that flickered all day to remind her that she wasn’t as firmly in control as she thought.

  She needed a vacation, that was all. And she was going to get one. She began to make plans in her head, and to feel more cheerful.

  “New Zealand.” She said the words out loud. Three weeks in New Zealand.

  When she’d told her friends about the trip, they’d been surprised, even a little shocked.

  “By yourself?” her best friend Susannah had asked, when Hannah had first mentioned it during their weekly phone call. “Will that be any fun for you?”

  “I can see that it wouldn’t be fun for you,” Hannah had responded, “but you know, not all of us are blissfully married to Dream Boy. And actually,” she said more seriously, “I think the going-alone part might be what I’m looking forward to most. I probably seem selfish, but everything’s been pulling at me lately. I have a good job, great friends, a wonderful family. But . . . I don’t know. I think I need some time by myself. Some space to see what I want, without any demands or any schedule, even a friend with me. Can you see what I mean?”

  “Well,” Susannah answered dryly, “I can certainly see why you want to escape your wonderful family for a while.”

  “You know it’s true,” she insisted as Hannah made a sound of protest. “You’re the only twenty-something I know with teenagers.”

  “You know I don’t have teenagers,” Hannah objected. “And they might still be searching, but they’re good kids.”

  “Kids? You’re only three years older than Kristen, you know. And yes, I think it’s great that you’re doing something for yourself for once. Anyway, being in New Zealand in summer sure sounds more appealing than staying here and watching it rain.”

  “I think New Zealand could be rainy too, in November. But it’ll be exotic, Southern Hemisphere rain. A whole different proposition. Anyway, I haven’t had a day off since Christmas, so three weeks sounds great. And the beach sounds even better—even in the rain. Felix was pretty upset when I told him how long I’d be gone, but I’m afraid if I don’t get away, he might not have me here at all. I suspect he could see that.”

  “It’s good for him,” Susannah answered roundly. “He takes advantage of you. Let him be without you for a few weeks and see how much you do. And who knows? You might meet somebody cute. A vacation romance. Wouldn’t that be great?”