Gentle Persuasion (9 page)

“Hi,” he greeted as he stepped onto the lanai.

She stirred, unfolding her long legs from where they were curled beneath her.

“Hey,” she replied. “How’s Keahi faring?”

Dane made a face. “He called me a nursemaid.”

“He’s lucky to have such a good friend.”

Dane didn’t respond to this statement, changing the subject, instead. “Are you ready for a bit more touring?”

She visibly perked up at this suggestion. “But I thought...with Keahi...”

“He insists he’s fine, and that we carry on with our arrangement.”

“Oh. Well. Dane, I understand if you have to temporarily suspend our agreement, due to unforeseen plantation business.”

Dane held up a hand to stop her. “A deal’s a deal. Let’s go.”

* * *

O
N
THE
DRIVE
to Holualoa, Dane gave Ophelia an overview of the village community.

“The town is situated on the incline of a dormant volcano—Hualalai, which is a perfect setting for the nearby coffee farms growing Kona beans. The village itself is filled with coffee shops and artists’ studios.”

“It sounds exactly like the sort of place I’d love to photograph,” Ophelia said in a wistful tone.

Dane went on to describe several of the cafés and art galleries before he realized the Jeep’s fuel gauge was resting near the
E.
Flicking on his turn signal, he pulled into a station to fill up the tank.

While Ophelia waited in the vehicle, Dane headed inside the convenience store and moved toward a display of tourist-inspired impulse buys that included overpriced sunglasses, high-SPF sunblock and—just what he had been looking for—several disposable cameras.

He ripped one off the rack and headed to the counter, laying down bills for the fuel as well as his purchase. He hurried back out of the store, offering a rushed “Mahalo” by way of thanks.

He tried to remain casual but he knew he grinned like a little boy as he approached the vehicle and saw Ophelia in the passenger seat, eyes closed and humming snatches of some song he couldn’t name beneath her breath. Her eyes flew open as he touched his door’s handle, and she looked at him with a happy grin. The sun from the previous day’s swim had bronzed her pale skin to a faint golden brown, setting off her green eyes and the honey tints in her hair. The look suited her, he decided with just the faintest of ripples stirring in his stomach.

He climbed inside the Jeep and handed her his purchase. “Here. This is for you.”

She frowned, first at the camera, and then at him. “What is this for?” she asked.

“I know you’ve been wishing you had a camera to take photos while you’re here. I figured a cheap disposable is better than nothing.”

She stared at him for so long that he began to wonder if his impromptu gift had offended her somehow.

“Never mind.” He reached to take it back, slightly embarrassed. “You’re probably used to high-end equipment. You can get better photos off a smartphone than with these.”

As his hand wrapped around the camera, his fingers brushed hers, and she jumped. But she didn’t let go.

“No, wait.”

He froze, their hands still touching.

“Thank you. It’s...” She drew a breath and looked away. “It was very nice of you.”

Her mumbled response left him uneasy. “I just thought—”

“Really.” She looked at him, and he could see her pleasure was genuine. “No one has ever done anything like that for me before. It’s a lovely gesture.”

Her eyes met his, and he felt his heart jerk involuntarily in response.

“Thank you,” she repeated.

He turned his attention to starting the Jeep in order to keep from falling into her soft, green gaze.

* * *

A
S
THEY
REACHED
the Holualoa village, Ophelia sat up straighter to drink in the sight of the artistic enclave, her interest piqued by the quaint, beautiful shops and galleries. She glanced at Dane as he explained that Keahi’s parents had invited them to stop by for a visit.

“They manage the Ho’okipa Café,” he said. “I try to make it a point to stop in every time I’m in the area.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you,” she remarked.

He gave a little shrug as he navigated the Jeep off the main street. “It’s partly guilt, I think. It’s only due to the family’s misfortune that Keahi ended up working for me.”

Ophelia frowned. “What happened?”

“Keahi was raised on a coffee farm that his family had owned for generations. His father got sick several years ago with a rare form of cancer. Keahi’s mother learned about a new treatment on the mainland, but because it was still in the trial stages, insurance wouldn’t pay for it.” Dane turned his face toward the driver’s-side window for an instant and then looked back at Ophelia. “They sold the coffee farm and all their holdings to pay for the trip and treatments.”

Ophelia swallowed. “Wow,” she murmured. “That’s love.”

Dane glanced at her for a few seconds longer before turning his eyes back to the street. “The good news is that the treatments worked wonders. The cancer is in remission, and now Mr. and Mrs. Inoa manage the café here for a businessman based out of Waikiki. Keahi says selling the farm was worth every penny.”

This story left a knot in Ophelia’s throat. She considered her own pressures regarding the family business and how her mother had pressed upon her the need to right their precarious situation. What would Lillian Reid have done in a similar predicament? Ophelia had a feeling her mother would have chosen to go down with the ship rather than sell it off for salvation.

She shuddered and put away these gloomy thoughts.

“And Keahi doesn’t mind working for a plantation that’s not his own?”

Dane hesitated. “I’ve talked about eventually bringing him on as a partner. But considering the state of things...” He trailed off, and Ophelia felt bad for the reminder of Dane’s shaky financial condition, especially considering yesterday’s unfortunate accident.

The conversation halted awkwardly after that, and Dane parked the Jeep in silence. They exited the vehicle, and Ophelia carefully stowed her disposable camera in her bag before Dane came around and opened the door for her. She stepped outside and followed his lead to a modestly-sized café featuring a charming exterior with vintage signage and weathered antique tables on display. Inside, the café felt pleasantly cool with a breeze flowing freely from the many open windows and rotating ceiling fans. A plaque on the wall explained that
Ho’okipa
was Hawaiian for hospitality, and that this was the aim of the
Ho’okipa Café
toward their patrons. The floors were a worn hardwood, and each table displayed mosaic images of island flowers: hibiscus, plumeria, red ginger. Smooth koa boards with tribal designs etched along the front made up the base of the coffee bar while its surface was a sturdy, shining marble. Several customers were scattered through the small shop, their soft conversations blending with the relaxing strains of island music coming from the speakers. The scent of freshly pressed coffee and baked goods made Ophelia’s mouth water.

Dane directed her to the bar where handwritten chalkboard displays announced the day’s offerings: Kona coffee by the cup along with several choices of iced teas and other beverages, paninis with distinctive island flavors such as pulled pork and gruyère with a mango-pineapple salsa and teriyaki chicken with sweet Maui onion, and desserts that ranged from banana pudding with freshly whipped cream to coconut cheesecake.

She had just turned to Dane to comment on the cozy elegance of the place when a voice greeted them.

“Dane, aloha!”

An older gentleman approached with outstretched arms. His frame was broad and solid, but he looked too thin for a man of such wide proportions. Ophelia noted he had Keahi’s features, but his own were weathered with time and age.

“Aloha, Mr. Inoa,” Dane returned the salutation.

“We just spoke with Keahi. He says he’s feeling fine this morning, that his arm hardly bothers him.”

Dane sighed. “I hope that’s true. It seemed to pain him a bit this morning when he would move it.”

“That’s to be expected,” Mr. Inoa said and then cast a glance toward Ophelia.

Dane cleared his throat and gestured toward her. “This is Ophelia Reid, a guest of the inn. Ophelia, this is Keahi’s father, Makana Inoa.”

Mr. Inoa swept her hand into his, pumping it with a firm grip that belied the lack of weight on his large frame.

“Keahi told us all about it. A recruiter, aren’t you, Miss Reid?”

Ophelia wondered if Keahi had been generous or critical in his explanation of her to his parents. He’d been extremely congenial to her in their encounters at the inn, but perhaps his hospitality skills exceeded his boss’s on the matter of recruiters.

“Please, call me Ophelia,” she insisted. “And yes, I’ve come from New York to negotiate Dane’s possible return.”

“Miss Reid is overly optimistic in her thinking,” Dane stated as she felt him tense beside her and shift slightly away.

She tried to stifle her disappointment in the subtle gesture and focused her attention back on Mr. Inoa. “This is a lovely café, Mr. Inoa. Dane tells me you and your wife are the managers?”

Mr. Inoa nodded. “There is a wealthy businessman in Waikiki—he does not have the time to be in Holualoa every day, so Nani and I run the café in his absence.”

“You must have a lot of knowledge about coffee after your years of farming.”

Mr. Inoa smiled, and Ophelia thought it was a touch wistful. “It was a hard life but a good one. To defeat the cancer, though, that is better. I could not have done it and continued to farm.”

His words moved Ophelia. “Your family must love you very much to have helped you with such a struggle.”

“I am blessed,” Mr. Inoa agreed.

“Dane, there you are. I just hung up the phone with Keahi.”

Ophelia turned to see an older woman with Polynesian features and graying hair approaching them.

She drew Dane into her arms, and Ophelia caught his pleased smile.

“Keahi had to practically shoo me out the door today. He called me a nursemaid, if you can believe it.”

Ophelia frowned, feeling a twinge of contrition for tearing Dane away from his friend so soon after the accident.

“Then you must be Miss Reid.” Mrs. Inoa turned to her.

“Please, call me Ophelia. And you must be Mrs. Inoa.”

To Ophelia’s surprise, the other woman drew her into a hug, as well. She allowed herself to be embraced, breathing in the faint fragrance of matcha as Mrs. Inoa enveloped her.

“Keahi told us you were staying at the Okina Inn. Welcome to Hawai’i.”

Much as Leilani had pronounced it, the name of her native state rolled off Mrs. Inoa’s tongue in the traditional cadence with a hard
v
sound placed where the
w
was typically written.

“Thank you.” For whatever reason, Ophelia found herself near tears as Mrs. Inoa released her. It took her a minute to realize it was because she could not remember the last time she had been hugged so genuinely. Certainly not by her mother. Lillian Reid abhorred overt demonstrations of affection. Even Cole was often uncomfortable with public displays of emotion.

“Come, you must sit.”

Mrs. Inoa ushered the two of them to a table while Mr. Inoa turned to address another couple who had entered the café. Ophelia and Dane each took a seat.

“What can I get for you? A cup of Kona? Or perhaps something cooler, such as an iced tea? We have several varieties of Ceylon tea blended with either passion fruit, pineapple or coconut.”

“That sounds wonderful. I’ll have the passion fruit tea, please.”

“And a cup of Kona for me, thanks,” Dane put in. “Do you think we could try those paninis on the menu?”

“Of course. I will put your order in right away.”

“And if you and Mr. Inoa have time, we’d love for you to join us.”

Mrs. Inoa glanced at Ophelia, seemingly uncertain if she felt the same way as Dane. Ophelia nodded at her. “Yes, I’d love to get the chance to hear more about your family. You must have quite a history with the island.”

These words caused Mrs. Inoa to beam proudly. “I will see if the staff needs any assistance or if they are all right without us for a few minutes.”

She moved away, and Ophelia turned her head to find Dane watching her once more. She attempted a smile, but the mood between them felt awkward.

“The Inoas seem like lovely people,” she commented, wanting to ease the tension she felt between them. Did he think she was only interested in spending time with him because of her recruitment agenda? The thought disappointed her, though she couldn’t understand why it should.

Dane gave a short nod in reply to her words but stayed silent. Ophelia concentrated on keeping herself from fidgeting by counting the tiles in the mosaic pattern on the tabletop before them. This practice had always served her well as a child at dull dinner parties where one hint of boredom would earn her a chastising glance from her mother. She simply trained herself to count something as a distraction—silverware, patterns in the wallpaper, designs in a tablecloth...

“You said you were working this assignment without commission.”

Ophelia looked up as he spoke, thrown by his sudden choice of topic. She found herself caught in the directness of his gaze. “But surely there’s something in it for you, if I agree to return.”

Ophelia leaned back in her seat and measured her answer. After a moment’s consideration, she saw no reason to keep it a secret from him.

“If you sign, Reid Recruiting will open another office in Europe, in Paris,” she clarified, “and I’ll become Director of European Operations.”

Following this admission, Dane remained frozen, and then he let out a low whistle. “So there really
is
a lot riding on this for you. Paris. Your dream city.”

This observation both thrilled and discouraged her—his tone held a slight edge, but she was pleased he had immediately noted how much living in Paris meant to her.

“And if I don’t agree to sign with Towers Resorts?”