Call To Redemption. Tawny Weber

raspberry nestled against a delicate pink orchid while a hint of pink sugar dusted the edge of the glass. “Ms. Nulty called and ordered it for you. Please, enjoy.”

      Uh-huh.

      Wondering if she’d ever seen anything more girlie, Darby eyed the drink. She was tempted to refuse.

      But her secretary, Grace, would undoubtedly do a follow-up.

      And, hey, vacation.

      Darby was under strict orders to do it up right, and those orders had come from the Deputy Director of the US Attorney’s office. He was the man who, being the soul of trust, had assigned Grace as a guard dog to make sure she complied.

      So Darby took the drink.

      Then, just in case her boss had enlisted spies in addition to the guard dog—federal prosecutors really did have major trust issues—she took a cautious sip.

      “Mmm.”

      “Most delicious, isn’t it?”

      “Mmm,” she repeated, sucking down another taste of the creamy rum and coconut. It actually wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t Scotch.

      “Now go, down to the lanai. Enjoy the haupia and the beach while making new friends.”

      Did she have to?

      Darby didn’t consider herself an introvert—she didn’t have a shy bone in her body—yet she definitely wasn’t a people person. But she’d come on this vacation to someplace she’d never been, telling herself to try things she’d never done. Vacation was time to shake up life, to step outside the box.

      “The lanai sounds great,” she agreed. Adding a smile to her thanks, Darby headed for the stairs, sipping more of the frothy drink.

      She’d only made a few steps when her cell phone chimed.

      “AUSA Darby Raye,” she answered automatically.

      “I thought you said this was going to be a totally relaxed, one-hundred-percent-committed-to-only-having-fun vacation. Shouldn’t that include leaving your phone in your room, partying too loudly to hear a ringtone or relaxing enough to forget your job title.” The accusation came with just enough laughter to make Darby roll her eyes.

      “Hey, I’m in Hawaii wearing a flower in my hair and drinking pink froth at sunset. That says real vacation to me. Besides, it’s my first night. I’ve been here a total of two hours and am wearing flat sandals. Flat. Sandals. What’s that if not relaxed?”

      Darby glanced down at one of the sandals, angling her left foot this way and that. Flats definitely weren’t as flattering as heels. But maybe the copper beadwork rescued the look.

      Maybe.

      “Holy crap! You, Darby Raye, Assistant United States Attorney, ferocious federal prosecutor and general all-around hard-ass? Instead of mile-high sexy stilettos, you’re wearing flats?” The sound of Grace’s finger snap came through loud and clear over the robust sound of her laugh. “Send a photo. This I have to see.”

      “Nope. It’s your fault that me and my sandal-clad feet are even on vacation. Well, yours and the HR department. No photos. Not unless you want to trade places.”

      “I’d laugh, except I know you’re not kidding. You’d actually rather be here, slogging through another eighty-hour week instead of hanging ten on a surfboard or being pampered in a spa.” Grace’s sigh came through loud and clear.

      Of course she’d rather be working. She loved her career. Her job was her life, and she was damn good at it. Good enough that she was fast-tracking it to be one of the top attorneys in the Southern California office. Or she was, until Grace had mentioned to her lunch buddy in HR that Darby hadn’t taken a single vacation since she’d started with the US Attorney’s office in Virginia two years ago. She’d learned from the best that work was life and life was work. Since the tender age of twelve, she’d lived by that oft-quoted motto of her father’s. They were the last words he’d spoken to her on one of the rare times he’d availed himself of his custody visits.

      Darby puffed out a breath with enough force to flutter her bangs, but refrained from reminding her friend of that. Not because she wanted to avoid the argument. She was an attorney. She loved to argue. But the key to a good argument was knowing when a loss was inevitable. So Darby had easily recognized the uselessness of arguing with Grace when she’d pointed out that this vacation was Darby’s best shot at the upcoming slot on the National Security Division that was rumored to be opening in a few months.

      Darby wanted that spot. It’d be a big shiny feather in her cap, to say nothing of a smooth jump over a few rungs on the success ladder.

      She was good enough. She had a solid rep, an impressive case-closure rate in cybercrimes and human trafficking. And she had the support of a number of influential higher-ups. But her age, her lack of experience arguing terrorism cases and the new head of Human Resources’ fixation on a healthy work-life balance were working against her.

      She couldn’t do anything about her age, but thought her work on the Antiterrorism Advisory Council helped offset her lack of trial experience in matters of national security. Which left that work-life-balance crap. Darby grimaced.

      Hence, Grace’s answer... Vacation.

      As if reading her mind, Grace said, “Office pool puts you at three days, fourteen hours before you give up and hop a flight home.”

      “Any idea if Jenkins is in on that pool?” she asked, referring to the new head of Human Resources.

      “You know the bets are confidential,” Grace chided.

      “So?”

      “He puts you at two days.”

      Darby smiled—leave it to Grace. That ability to ferret out the tiniest of details was one of the woman’s best traits. Between that, enough tenacity to do a bulldog proud and a personality that blended like butter with anyone anywhere, the woman made a stellar legal secretary.

      A fact for which Darby was forever grateful.

      She’d gone through four secretaries in her first two weeks at the Southern California office and had been well on her way to cementing her reputation as a hard-ass with an attitude. That part she hadn’t minded, but the changeover and lack of decent help had put a serious crimp in her plans toward career stardom. That, and having to remember the names of the parade of secretaries had worn on her last nerve. When Grace Nulty had walked in the door looking like someone’s favorite aunt, she hadn’t bothered adding the redhead’s name to her cheat sheet.

      Within five weeks, the cheat sheet was trashed and Darby was satisfactorily tracking her way toward career stardom again. Not only did Grace keep up with Darby’s breakneck pace, but she also anticipated, intuited and, when necessary, argued.

      All awesome things.

      Until she’d turned them on Darby herself.

      First it’d been her relentless pursuit of friendship. Darby was perfectly content—happy, even—to be friendless in the workplace. As far as she was concerned, office-based friendships only led to trouble. Especially in a job as competitive and cutthroat as hers.

      She still wasn’t sure how the other woman had outflanked her, but somehow, they’d become friends. But not even Darby, a woman who argued for a living, had been strong enough to win against Grace’s relentless cheer and focused determination.

      She’d used that same cheer and determination to convince Darby that a week of luaus and lying on the beach would help her career.

      Damn the woman.

      It wasn’t that Darby had moral or religious objections to vacations...

      She just didn’t see the point.

      Oh, sure, maybe she should have taken a big celebratory vacation last year when she’d become a federal prosecutor. A lot of people had said making Assistant US Attorney by the time she was