His By Christmas. Teresa Southwick

you for a palatial country home kind of guy.”

      “There’s not a lot of choice in Blackwater Lake. The town is growing and housing is struggling to catch up and stay current.”

      “I see.” She sipped her coffee, studying him over the rim of her cup. “You’re a complicated man, Cal Hart.”

      “Keeps people on their toes.”

      “People? Or women?” she asked.

      “Women are people, too,” he pointed out.

      “And they no doubt fall at your feet. From all that brilliance, whether you’re complicated or not,” she teased. “In fact, I bet most of them prefer not.”

      “What do you prefer?” There was a deep, husky quality to his voice that could be called seductive. His eyes widened slightly and he said, “Don’t tell me. Simple hard work is your preference. It gets the job done. Speaking of which...what happened to the contract my lawyer emailed? There are pages missing.”

      Apparently he was keeping this purely professional. Hence the pivot back to work. That was for the best, even though she was enjoying their verbal sparring. “I know. It’s on my to-do list. The internet was really slow, and then it just shut down.”

      “Damn it.”

      “I’m sorry. I checked with resort management late yesterday and they said the system can often be overloaded with data.”

      “Then the system should be upgraded. If I was running this place...” He was buttering a slice of rye toast and stopped.

      “What?” she prompted.

      “Technology would be more efficient, for one thing.” The frustration in his expression grew more intense as the muscle in his jaw jerked.

      “Think about this place,” she advised.

      “I am. If someone is expecting some important documents or business negotiations requiring paperwork, their expectations will not be met.”

      “Unless this location is intended to cater to expectations other than business. Outside are sea and sand, neither of which is particularly user-friendly to computer circuits or memory chips.”

      “Of course not. No one’s going to use a fax machine on a paddleboard.”

      “Exactly. People actually come here to get away from the rat race. To decompress outside in the water while soaking up the sun. Maybe upping their absorption of vitamin D while they’re at it.”

      Cal glanced across the room, where the French doors were open to the patio. Outside, dark clouds had obscured the blue sky and were very swiftly rolling over the ocean toward them. Lightning flickered within the billowing black mass and a bolt zigzagged into the ocean.

      “Great, just great,” he mumbled.

      Justine thought the approaching storm closely mirrored the expression on her boss’s face. From the looks of it, he could use a refresher course in care and feeding of peace and relaxation. Something had him on edge. She hadn’t missed the way he’d abruptly changed the course of breakfast chitchat from personal back to business. If she hadn’t walked into this room prepared to work hard enough to forget he was there, she might not have noticed. But that was her plan of action and he’d gotten there first.

      There was just one flaw in the all-work-to-avoid-play plan. And it was hard to ignore. “Cal, this is paradise. People come here to unplug. Technology doesn’t have to be business-fast. It’s not designed to do that. Probably so someone who’s even tempted to choose work over relaxation will just give in and let it go.”

      “Try explaining that to my high-priced attorney who is waiting for me to look over that contract and get back to him. Strike while the iron is hot and all that. And there are other time-sensitive interests that are affected...”

      A roaring sound outside made them both look out the doors. The storm had moved in really fast. Huge drops of torrential rain suddenly started bouncing on the patio, and the steady pounding was like the white noise on a sound machine. Then there was a crack of lightning and almost simultaneously the boom of thunder.

      “It’s right over us.” The lights flickered and his expression grew even darker. “Paradise isn’t perfect, after all.”

      “And yet, what most people wouldn’t give to ride out an electrical storm on a tropical island as opposed to being at home.”

      “I’m not most people.”

      “Maybe you should give it a try,” she snapped back. “Ordinary isn’t so bad...”

      There was another flash and the booming sound of thunder. Then the lights went out.

      “Isn’t that just swell?” Cal leaned back in his chair. “People, ordinary or otherwise, can’t do much of anything now. Including work.”

      Justine glanced from the downpour outside to the irritated, angry look on Cal’s face. “Wow. Bummer. Since the business machines are out of commission, you might have to sit here and talk to me.”

      “This would not happen in Blackwater Lake. And before you remind me the power can go out anywhere, I have a generator there.”

      “Then why don’t you go back there?” That was a very good question, one she’d asked the first day and hadn’t received an answer to. Call it the weird vibe of electrical energy in the air, but now she wanted to know. “Now that I think about it, carrying on business at the level you seem obsessed with is a challenge here. So, why didn’t you go home after breaking your leg? What’s going on, Cal? And don’t tell me ‘nothing.’”

       Chapter Four

      “But nothing is going on.”

      Pushing back against a statement of fact had put Cal in this predicament in the first place. You’d think he would know better than to keep doing it. Maybe he wasn’t capable of learning, after all.

      “Calhoun Hart, you’re a big, fat fibber.” Justine put her spoon down in her empty bowl. Her eyes narrowed on him and made him want to squirm, but he resisted the urge.

      “I have no idea what you mean.” He’d been about to say again that there was nothing going on, but decided it was protesting too much. He had to play this just right. “And ‘big, fat fibber’? Really? Is this junior high?”

      “And there it is,” she said triumphantly.

      “There what is?” He looked around the shadowy interior of the villa. “And how can you see it without the lights?”

      “You’re so glib.”

      Her tone didn’t make the comment sound like a compliment, but that didn’t stop him from running with it. “That just might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

      “You tap dance pretty well for a man with a broken leg.” The words were spoken in a pleasant voice, but her eyes were still narrowed on him. “Your behavior is classic.”

      “How?”

      “It tells me that you’re hiding something.” She held up her hand and started ticking things off on her fingers. “You turned the conversation back on me being ‘junior high.’ Then deflected to electricity. And tap-danced to twisting my words into a compliment. You better start talking, mister.”

      “Or what?”

      “Now who’s acting all junior high?” she accused him.

      He grinned. “Then I’m going for it all the way. You’re not the boss of me.” Since when was being on the hot seat so much fun? The only variable was Justine. “There’s nothing you can do to make me talk.”

      “Oh, you’re so wrong about that. There are many, many ways I could