The Honeymooner Read online

  Libby stands and picks up her briefcase, avoiding eye contact with me. “I’m sorry to hear that. I think this is a huge mistake.”

  “That very well may be, but it’s my mistake to make,” I say, walking toward the door.

  When I open it, I see a very happy but tired looking Fidel poised to knock. Next to him is his wife, Winnie, who started working here as a receptionist when she finished college.

  Fidel smiles. “Hey, Reef, would you like to meet my son?”

  I look down to see a tiny bundle of human in Winnie’s arms. He has huge brown eyes, chubby cheeks, and thick black hair sticking up in every direction. “Well, you’re not cute at all, are you?”

  “Here, hold him,” Fidel says.

  Winnie hands the little guy to me before I can tell him I’m not used to babies.

  Once he settles in the crook of my arm, I go from feeling completely agitated to calm and happy in an instant. Huh, who knew babies were magic? I gently pick up his tiny hand with my thumb and forefinger, only to have him make a fist around my thumb. “Nice grip, kid.”

  Winnie comes to stand by me, and I lean down to give her a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations, Win. You look great.”

  “No, I don’t. I look like an exhausted whale.”

  Shaking my head, I say, “Your mirror must be broken because you look like a happy new mum.”

  “Hello,” Libby says, looking over my shoulder at the baby. “Oh, he’s absolutely perfect.”

  “He is, isn’t he?” Fidel says with a wide grin. “I’m Fidel. Are you a new hire?”

  Libby shakes her head. “No.”

  “Too bad. You should hire her, Reef,” Winnie says. “She seems to have a good eye for perfection.”

  Libby laughs, and I find myself smiling at the sound of it. Jesus, between turning to mush over a newborn and letting myself get all affected by a woman, I’m really starting to lose it.

  “Oh, sorry. Allow me to do the introductions,” Fidel says, trying to sound very formal. “Harrison Banks, meet Harrison Malcolm LeCroix.”

  My head snaps back in surprise, and when I look down again at little Harrison Malcolm, I can’t help but feel a lump in my throat. I clear it away and say, “You named him after…”

  “The original actor who played Han Solo, yes,” Fidel answers.

  “Fidel!” Winnie says, sounding slightly irritated. She turns to me. “We named him after you, Harrison. We wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for us over the years.”

  “Well, this is…” I blow out a big sigh, unable to finish that thought. Instead, I say, “It’s one hell of a smart way to ask for a raise.”

  ELEVEN

  Shake Those Money-Makers, Girls (A.K.A. The Desperate Girl’s Guide to Mergers and Acquisitions)

  Libby

  For the past hour, I've been sitting on my balcony nursing a Corona and picking at some insanely delicious salty fries I grabbed down at the burger bar while I try to figure out what my next move should be. Unfortunately, I’m coming up blank.

  Granted, I have been distracted. The sight of Harrison holding that adorable baby made me all gooey inside, and that image keeps popping into my head and muddling my thoughts.

  Dammit. I swear it's easier to be a man. Alan would certainly never have this problem — going all gaga over seeing a man holding a baby. A sculpted, gorgeous, strong, stubborn, principled man…

  Focus, Libby!

  I need to hatch a plan to save my career, because I seriously cannot go home without closing this deal. First of all, if I don’t manage it, I can pretty much kiss my leapfrog off Quentin’s team good-bye, and without that, my past few years of work at GlobalLux will have been for nothing. There’s no way I can handle Quentin’s crap much longer, which means I’ll need to find a new job and start at the bottom rung of the corporate ladder. Again. Second, if Richard and I really don’t get back together, the home I can afford and the one I want to live in will be drastically different, especially if I’m job-hunting instead of cashing a bonus cheque. Third, and quite possibly the worst thought at the moment (even though it shouldn’t be), is that if I can't even convince Harrison to at least let me to do an assessment of his resort, it would be an all-time low for anyone in our department. Alan and Quentin will never let me live it down. The buggers.

  Think, Libby, think.

  Okay, what would Alan do?

  Oh Christ, I'm clearly desperate if I'm using Alan as the new gold standard of decision-making. I have to go back to the basics. Business is all about relationships. It's about two people who need something from each other who find a way to exchange goods or services in order to satisfy both of their needs. All I have to do is figure out what I have that Harrison wants.

  I grab a pen and a blank piece of paper out of my briefcase and jot down HARRISON at the top of the page. Drawing a line down the centre, I write ME on the other side of the line. Under his name, I write, ‘Wants to keep resort.’ On the other side, I write, ‘Wants to keep job.’

  Oh, you’re a regular brain surgeon, there, Libby.

  Crumpling up the paper, I toss it in the bin and grab a new sheet. Let’s try a different angle…what are Harrison’s weaknesses and how I can use those against him?

  I jot down HARRISON’S WEAKNESSES at the top. He really liked seeing me in my red undies down at the beach. I write ‘Me in lacy knickers’ and stare at it for second. Honestly at this moment, I'm not entirely certain I wouldn't put that offer out there.

  Oh my God, have some dignity, Libby!

  I tap my pen against my lips as I think. He definitely has a hero complex — he did, after all, save me from myself the other night. Two nights in a row, really.

  I write down, ‘Hero complex.’

  And that adorable baby. That baby and his parents matter to Harrison, too. ‘Attachment to Staff.’

  All at once, a solid plan comes flooding into my brain. I stand, causing the chair to scrape loudly against the concrete balcony, and gather up my things. I catch my reflection in the sliding glass door and smile at the woman who finally knows exactly what to do.

  Now I just have to find him.

  ***

  Okay, so finding Harrison was a lot harder than I thought. This resort is enormous and I’ve been wandering around for over forty-five minutes in the blistering heat. I’m now dripping with sweat, and even though I have an SPF 100 zinc oxide sunscreen covering every bit of exposed skin, I am definitely going to burn.

  In my excitement, I threw on my turquoise bikini and a sarong so I could try to ‘use what I’ve got.’ I figured I might as well attempt to turn his brain to mush too, since he had the nerve to look so dreamy holding that newborn.

  If I could only find the damn guy…

  I've asked just about everyone in the Paradise Bay uniform of a white golf shirt and khaki shorts if they know where Harrison might be, but apparently, he's as elusive to them as he is to me. Either that or he has so many strange women asking about him that they've learned not to tell.

  I make my way down to the excursion desk, which is located next to the one of the swimming pools, but no one is there. I stand for a moment, tapping my fingernails on the counter, then I notice a clipboard sitting right out in the open where anyone could read it. It's today’s schedule for all of the boats and tours. There’s a sunset cruise leaving in five minutes and the captain listed is none other than Harrison himself.

  “Gotcha,” I mutter as I hurry off in the direction of the resort pier.

  I arrive just as a young man is starting to lift the ramp connecting the catamaran to the pier.

  “Is there room for one more?” I call to him.

  He smiles and gives me a nod while he lowers the ramp. “You just made it. It must be your lucky day.”

  “Let's hope so,” I answer.

  He offers me his hand to help me climb aboard, and I accept, noting that his name tag reads ‘Justin.’ Feeling slightly unsteady as th
e catamaran rocks a little with the tide, I look around and see there's a surprisingly small group of people aboard — all couples, of course. Blech. One pair has already claimed spots on the net. They lay there cuddling and smiling at each other as the boat pulls away from the dock. I quickly find a spot to sit down and look around but don’t see any sign of Harrison.

  Before long, Justin offers me a beverage. He holds a cooler open so I can choose for myself. Channeling my inner Alan, I grab two cans of Corona. “Thanks. Say, where does the captain do all his…captaining from?” I ask, cringing inwardly at the fact that I can't think of the actual terminology.

  “Up those steps,” he says, pointing to my right.

  “Do you think it would be okay if I go up and say hi?”

  “Yes, you’re exactly the kind of guest he likes.”

  I squint my eyes. “How so?”

  “You’re pretty and you like beer.”

  Something about the way Justin says this bothers me, even though it shouldn’t. And if I were smart, I’d use this knowledge to my advantage instead of wondering if it means Harrison found a different beer-drinking, pretty woman to keep him company last night. “Well, maybe I’ll go up and say hello then…”

  I stand and grab hold of the railing as I make my way to the steep staircase. Checking my bikini top to make sure everything's where it should be, I then adjust my sarong and do a quick breath audit. Passable. This is about as good as it gets for me. Glancing down at my chest, I mutter to myself, “All right girls, at the moment, you’re all I’ve got.”

  Well, that’s not true. I have my brains…and these beers, so let’s go give this a try.

  When I reach the top deck, I give myself a second to take it all in — the crystal-clear water, the late day sun hanging low in the sky, and the very shirtless, very chiseled man behind the wheel, who is barefoot in a pair of low-slung swim trunks. He’s got a ball cap on, which gives him a laid-back, sporty look. He turns with a smile that fades as soon as he realizes who I am.

  “Hi, Harrison.” I steady myself as I walk over to him. Then, trying to look very relaxed, I grip the railing just to the left of where he's standing. “Peace offering?” I say, holding up one of the beers.

  “What’s the fine print?” he asks, glancing down at the Corona, and if I'm not mistaken, his eyes are also doing a little bit of a swipe across my chest.

  “No fine print. But it does come with an apology. I shouldn’t have suggested that I knew what your uncle would want. Or you. You were right, I don’t really know you at all.”

  For a moment, I worry he won’t accept my apology, and I feel my throat start to tighten. Then Harrison reaches out to take the drink, his fingers touching mine for the briefest of seconds. I exhale as he cracks it open, then takes a swig of beer. “You're not going to change my mind, so you might as well quit now.”

  “You mentioned that earlier,” I answer with a playful grin. Letting my smile fade, I say, “You're not like the other owners I've met.”

  “No? What are they like?”

  “Well, none of them have employees who name their firstborn after them, so that should give you a bit of an idea.”

  His face turns a bit red and he looks slightly embarrassed. “That's not exactly a regular occurrence around here. I actually don’t think they should have done that. I’ll make a terrible role model.”

  I chuckle a little at his self-deprecating remark. Clearing my throat, I say, “It helped me understand how much you care about your employees and vice versa. It also made me realize how much is at stake for you.”

  “Which is why I hope you can see I’m never going to sell.”

  “Not even if we were their last resort?” I ask, then add, “No pun intended.”

  He looks out to the horizon as he turns the wheel slightly with one hand. “You’re not our last resort.”

  “And you’re willing to gamble the future of everyone you care about on that?”

  “It’s not a gamble. I’ve been here for over twenty years, and you’ve been here for three days. Between the two of us, I’d say that makes me the expert in what is and isn’t good for Paradise Bay.”

  “Fair enough. You do know more about this resort than probably anyone. But between you and me, I’d say I’m the expert when it comes to the hotel and resort industry around the world, and that matters. You can’t ignore the changes that are happening everywhere else — not if you want to stay afloat,” I say.

  “I knew I never should’ve accepted the beer.”

  I give him a small smile. “What if I make a deal with you, completely off the record, both of us agreeing to go total cone of silence on it?”

  “I hope you didn’t think you could throw on a bikini, bring me a beer, and I’d hand over the keys to the resort,” he says. “Because if you think I’m that much of a cliché, that would be more insulting than thinking I have terrible taste in movies.”

  Why, yes, actually. That was phase one of my four-part plan. Shaking my head, I do my best to look shocked. “Of course not. I know you’re much smarter than that. And I completely respect why you turned me down earlier, too.”

  “But?” he asks with one eyebrow raised.

  “But, what if I promise that at the end of my assessment, if I think your people are better off with you as the owner and I can find a way for you to turn things around without needing the backing of GlobalLux, I promise to tell you — full disclosure, not holding anything back. I’ll even give you a copy of my report, including plans for fixing every inefficiency I find. That’s a hell of a deal, by the way. If you hired an independent analyst to come in and do that, it would cost you over 30,000 pounds.” I stop while I’m ahead (I hope).

  He narrows his eyes. “Why would you do any of that for me?”

  Here’s the part where I have to channel my inner-Alan and try not to throw up. “Because I need you as much as you need me. If I can’t get you to at least agree to the assessment, I’ll lose my job, which, now that I think of it, will go well with my no husband and no home.” I chuckle a little at my own dark joke.

  A look of sympathy softens his hard edges, but only for the slightest second before he throws the wall back up.

  “If I can’t go home having convinced you to at least let me do a preliminary assessment, it means I’m shit at my job. And to really lay it all out there, my last two deals didn’t exactly work out, so you’re my strike three.”

  I hold my breath while I wait for him to respond. His shoulders drop, and I know that I’m getting closer to hitting my mark. He stares at me for a long moment, his eyes searching for the truth.

  “You have my word, Harrison.” I place one hand over my chest. “I’m just asking for a chance to do my job, that's all. There is literally no risk here at all for you. Not even a hint of a risk. You’re not committing to sell, just giving me a chance to help you figure out what’s really best for Paradise Bay.”

  He sips his beer, making me wait for a reaction. “And you’ll actually tell me the truth? If you come to the conclusion that the resort is better off with me, you’ll say so?”

  I lift my hand, palm out. “My hand to God. If I believe your property will be better off without GlobalLux, the report is yours and I go away forever. It’s a no-lose situation, Harrison. You should take me up on it.”

  “And what if you don’t think the resort is viable on its own?”

  Ready. Aim. Fire. “Then I’ll make sure the offer I recommend will be so generous, your family and staff are taken care of.”

  I swallow, praying for a yes that I don’t get. Instead, he gives me a hard look. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  I look up, trying to think of a good reason. “Because I haven’t told a soul about your Beatles thing.”

  Chuckling, he says, “That’s only because I have some pretty juicy knowledge about you.”

  “Another reason to trust me.” I smile and blink, trying not to notice how the setting sun
is bringing out the green flecks in his eyes.

  He takes a long drag of his beer, then gives me a roguish smile. “Okay. I’ll let you have a peek inside my files.”

  “Really?” I squeal, hugging him before I can think better of it.

  Oh my, but that’s a nice hard, naked torso. And the way he smells, it’s like soap and delicious male. No, Vacation Libby, no!

  I quickly pull back and lower my voice, trying for a sophisticated look. “I mean, brilliant. You won’t regret it.”

  Much better. Well done, Business Libby. You got a yes.

  He gazes down at me and his eyes flick to my mouth for a second. “It’s almost not fair, you know.”

  “Why’s that?” I say, my voice sounding much breathier than I intend.

  “Because I’m going to show you such a good time, you’ll be willing to agree to anything just to stay a little longer.”

  “Go ahead. Do your worst.”

  ***

  Apparently, his worst is pretty damn impressive. About a minute after we made the deal, he stopped the catamaran, anchored it, threw on a snorkelling mask, then dove into the water, coming back up a minute later with a lobster in each hand. Then, he repeated this until he had one for each guest. And I have to say, seeing him climb back aboard that boat all wet almost made everything I’ve gone through up to this point worth it because — ha cha cha wow. There are no words to describe it.

  The atmosphere on the boat turned into a bit of a party, with the music turned up and another round of drinks served while Harrison made us the best tasting lobster of all time. He boiled them right there, then added a bit of pepper and a sprinkling of lime. Justin plated rice and warm cheese biscuits, with tiny cups of melted butter, before Harrison added the main event. Maybe it was the beer or the sunset, or the fact that Harrison said yes, but I honestly can’t remember a better meal in my life.

  He sat next to me on a soft bench while we ate. “How’s this meal for cost-efficient?” he asked.