Authors: Cerella Sechrist
Gentle Persuasion
CAN SHE DRAG HIM OUT OF PARADISE?
Landing reclusive marketing genius Dane Montgomery would be the coup of Ophelia Reid’s executive recruiting career—and her ticket to her dream job in Paris. It would also be practically impossible. With Dane firmly entrenched in his idyllic Hawaiian coffee plantation, and his intolerance of headhunters, luring him back to the New York rat race is a long shot.
If Ophelia fails, she sacrifices her dream. And if she succeeds, Dane sacrifices his. Neither can afford to give in—or give up. But spending a week with Dane, exploring the island…and their growing attraction…may weaken Ophelia’s resolve. And Dane’s starting to see that New York has one thing Hawaii doesn’t—Ophelia Reid. Too bad she’s moving to Paris!
Ophelia studied the stubborn man and tried to keep her expression neutral.
“Perhaps we’re both a little desperate, hmm? Why not see if it can work to both our advantages?” she asked.
She had always known Dane Montgomery would be the toughest recruitment of her career. But she had the feeling that if she could just spend enough time with him, get to know him, find some sort of compromise to their situations…
“Fine.”
“Fine? I mean…you’ll do it?” She knew that her face revealed her surprise.
“For $10,000, I’ll be your personal tour guide…for this week only.” He rose to his feet. “But let me warn you, Ms. Reid, that others with more experience than you have tried many times over the past three years to lure me back.”
“I’m well aware of that.”
He paused, seeming to consider her. “What makes you think you’ll have a better chance than they did?”
She met his gaze with determination. “I don’t know that I do,” she confessed, “but I have to try.”
He straightened at this, and did she imagine it? Or was there just the slightest hint of respect in his eyes to avoid repetition?
“Then let the games begin.”
Dear Reader,
I’ve had the pleasure of visiting Hawaii a total of three times in my life. The first, I was barely three years old and recall little other than crystal clear waters, deliciously cool breezes and soft, pristine sand. The second trip was a family vacation in my early teens that created a wealth of treasured (and humorous!) memories. And the last was only a couple of years ago, not too long after I had the idea for
Gentle Persuasion.
The impression of Hawaii that has always stayed with me is the unique culture and welcoming
aloha
spirit of its people, the complicated beauty of its native language, and the purity and diversity of its landscape.
Hawaii is a place where it’s easy to fall in love. So it was no stretch of the imagination to consider characters who might be tempted to leave behind their mainland lives for the paradise of the islands.
Dane’s dreams of running a coffee plantation on the islands afforded me the opportunity to learn more about the families who live and work the hundreds of farms along the coast of Hawaii’s Kona region. Their daily struggles and triumphs helped give voice to the challenges of making such dreams a reality.
If you haven’t already, perhaps one day you can experience the beauty of the islands for yourself, but for now, I hope
Gentle Persuasion
gives you a small taste of paradise.
If you’d like to share your own Hawaii experiences, contact me through my website at
www.cerellasechrist.com
.
CERELLA SECHRIST
Gentle Persuasion
CERELLA SECHRIST
lives in York, Pennsylvania, with two precocious pugs, Darcy
and Charlotte, named after Jane Austen literary characters. She has won various
competitions and a scholarship for her writing, which includes devotionals,
full-length plays and novels. Her debut novel,
Love Finds
You in Hershey, Pennsylvania,
recently was rereleased with Harlequin
Love Inspired. Cerella divides her time between working in the office of her
family’s construction business and as a barista to support her reading habit and
coffee addiction. Her novels exhibit her love for both the written word and food
in fiction. You can find her online at her website,
www.cerellasechrist.com
,
where she pens “Literary Fare: Fiction & Food,” a blog for readers.
Dedicated to my mom, Cherie Sechrist, who gave me my first glimpse of Hawaii at three, my first taste of coffee at five and a love of stories from the moment I could understand words.
Special thanks to my editor, Laura Barth, and senior editor Victoria Curran, for their input, advice and support. You have been invaluable.
I raise my mug of Kona coffee to you both!
CHAPTER ONE
I
T
WAS
BALMY
.
She hadn’t expected it to be so...balmy.
Ophelia Reid squared her shoulders as she stood at the doorway of the Okina Inn, the bed-and-breakfast where she’d booked lodging until she completed her mission in Hawaii.
She’d endured merciless teasing from her coworkers in the time before her flight: how privileged she was, as the CEO’s daughter, to snag this assignment. Yet, even in such lighthearted banter, there had been the glint of sympathy in their eyes. This was no simple placement such as those Reid Recruiting Agency normally performed. This was the assignment that would make or break her career and fulfill the dreams she had nurtured since childhood.
Clearing her throat, Ophelia raised her hand and rapped upon the door with solid determination. Only as her fist withdrew did she notice her hand was trembling slightly.
Frowning, she rested her arms at her sides and willed her fingers to still their shaking. She tapped out the seconds in her designer sling backs, resisting the desire to smooth her black slacks.
Minutes passed, and she again marveled at the temperate climate. Not too hot, not too cold—just as her assistant, Holly, had told her it would be. The trade winds offered a consistently sweet breeze, and the air held only the faintest hint of ocean moisture. Paradise.
For a moment, her shoulders sagged, and she let her head fall back, feeling the delicious pull of her tense muscles as they stretched along her spine.
The door opened, and she snapped her head forward, wincing at the abrupt movement.
A squat, round-faced woman with Polynesian features narrowed her eyes to slits at the sight of Ophelia standing on the doorstep.
“I’m Ophelia Reid.” She paused, hoping this introduction would be sufficient.
Apparently not. The woman stared.
“I’m a guest of the inn. I’ve booked the Lilly...koloni suite.” She stumbled over the Hawaiian name, and the stubby woman scowled.
“Liliuokalani,” she offered in a slightly accented voice, her tone disparaging.
Ophelia’s smile felt strained after her long flight. “That would be the one.”
The woman huffed and folded her short arms across her more-than-ample bosom. “Where’s your husband?” she demanded.
Ophelia’s mouth dropped at this question. “I don’t
have
a husband.” She winced at this statement, thinking of her longtime boyfriend, Cole. The two of them had broken things off shortly before she’d boarded the plane to Hawaii. The possibility of her moving to Paris had ignited an argument between them that could reach no satisfactory conclusion, and she had ended things after four long years of dating.
Her statement only served to heighten the woman’s suspicions. “What sort of haole woman books the Liliuokalani suite only for herself?”
“Haole?”
Ophelia repeated, suspecting she had just been insulted.
“Foreigner. White,” came the clipped reply.
Ophelia flared her nostrils. “I will have you know that just because I am a single woman does not mean I cannot enjoy a luxury suite! This is the twenty-first century, and women are entitled to...to—” she flagged as she mentally cataloged her list of feminine rights “—to stay in luxury suites by themselves!” she lamely finished. “If they want to,” she added.
The other woman looked Ophelia up and down. “Maybe you’re single because you’re too skinny. A man wants a woman who can feed him. That’s the problem with you mainland girls. You starve yourselves and think that’s what a real man wants.” She reached out and pinched Ophelia’s bare arm to demonstrate her point.
Ophelia gasped in indignation, jerking her arm beyond her criticizer’s reach. “I can cook!” She automatically defended herself and then considered the relative dishonesty of this statement. “When I have to,” she tacked on to the end.
This elicited another
harrumph
from the Polynesian lady. “Microwave dinners don’t count. Neither do reservations at fancy restaurants.”
Frustration and fatigue churned madly in Ophelia’s stomach. “Are you going to show me to my room or not?” she demanded.
The irritating woman unfolded her arms to rest them on her wide hips. “The rooms are not ready. You’re too early to check in.”
“What do you mean the rooms aren’t ready? My assistant made the reservation on Friday. She was assured I could check in as soon as I arrived”
“I
said—
” the little woman amplified her voice by several notches, as if this might impart understanding
“—the rooms are not ready!”
Ophelia felt pinpricks of tension shooting along her nerves. She had never been treated so abominably when trying to check in to a room. Except that one time in Paris when Holly had booked her at the wrong hotel. But even the most snooty of French concierges didn’t compare to the feisty lady before her. “Well...what am I supposed to do in the meantime?”
The woman shrugged, as if this was a matter beyond her concern. Despite her upbringing, where appearances were everything, Ophelia suddenly wanted nothing more than to sink to the porch of the inn and cry with aggravation. It had been a long flight to the islands with a combined travel time of over twelve hours on two planes, and she had not expected to encounter such a greeting upon her arrival in this tropical paradise.
“Pele? Is there a problem here?”
The woman turned toward the voice at her back. Ophelia’s weariness suddenly evaporated at the appearance of the man behind her tormenter. Six feet, two inches tall with a scruffy jawline, russet-colored hair and the most startling blue eyes she had ever seen, Ophelia immediately recognized the singular presence of Dane Montgomery. Her stomach jerked with what she could only assume was relief at the presence of the very man she had been sent to find.
“Mr. Montgomery.” She smoothly extended a hand. “I’m Ophelia Reid.”
This poised introduction caused Dane to hesitate for a fraction of a second before slipping his hand into hers. His grip was firm, cool and brief, his expression guarded.
“I’m sorry. Did we...have an appointment?”
Pele answered for her. “This haole woman booked the Liliuokalani suite...
for herself.
”
The sight of Pele’s eyebrows, arched with meaning, stung.
Ophelia fought the blush threatening to stain her complexion. “There seems to be a bit of a misunderstanding,” she explained.
Dane looked from Ophelia to Pele and back to Ophelia again. “My apologies. You’re one of our guests?”
Ophelia nodded, trying to keep the pleasant this-isn’t-bothering-me-at-all smile stuck to her lips. “The Liliuokalani suite,” she confirmed, taking pains to pronounce the name correctly.
“I apologize,” Dane repeated and attempted to nudge Pele’s considerable girth from the doorway’s entrance. “Won’t you come in?”
“She has no husband!” Pele reminded him. “And the rooms are not ready!”
Dane carefully cleared his throat and steered Pele aside. “Well, then, why don’t you see about making the rooms ready, Pele?” he suggested, and Ophelia noted he spoke the words through clenched teeth.
The stout woman glowered. “She wants the suite all to herself,” Pele persisted.
“Which is absolutely not a problem.” Dane directed these words to Ophelia with a contrite look. He continued to prod Pele toward the stairs, no easy feat considering she appeared to be digging her heels into the rug as Dane pushed her along.
“This is what comes of girls starving themselves,” Pele muttered direly as her foot landed on the first step. “They lose all their senses!”
Her mumbling continued the entire length of the stairway until she disappeared onto the landing above. Dane turned with an expression of relief.
“I’m sorry we weren’t able to greet you properly. My receptionist has the day off, and Pele is our housekeeping staff. The Liliuokalani suite is usually reserved by honeymooners. Pele must have misunderstood. She can be quite...set in her ideas of propriety.”
Ophelia waved a hand to brush off the mix-up. “It’s not a problem.” Now that she had finally been allowed entry into the inn’s foyer, she took some time to survey her surroundings. The furnishings were exquisite: beachscape paintings in rich hues of cerulean blues, aquatic greens and ivory sand, a teak reception desk with track lighting, tropical plants dotting the end tables and a woven area rug covering the hardwood floor. Paradise kept looking better and better.
While Ophelia had been studying the main reception area, Dane had slipped behind the desk to consult the records.
“Here we are, Ophelia Reid. Liliuokalani suite. Paid for one week in advance.” He glanced up at her. He seemed to consider querying her further on this before remembering his manners as the inn’s owner and host.
“As you’re well aware, the suite is not quite ready for you yet. Perhaps you’d like to take some refreshment on the lanai?”
Ophelia nodded with relief. “That would be lovely. Thank you.”
He led her toward a set of glass-and-wood doors opening up onto a patio overlooking the gardens. She breathed deeply, once again enjoying the perfect weather.
“Would you like me to bring in your bags?” he questioned.
She shook her head. “They’ll be fine in my rental car for now.”
While Dane stepped behind the bar, Ophelia used the opportunity to regain some of her scattered composure. She tried to recall the speeches she had formulated on the flight from New York to LAX and then on to Kona International airport. She was good at this—a crack negotiator and a talented recruiter in her trade. But this was different. Everything—her career, the family business, her relationship with her mother/boss—hinged on this one man, this one job.
She was so deeply absorbed in thought that she jerked physically to awareness when Dane approached and set a tray of chilled juice and glasses on the table before her.
If he noticed her start, he didn’t draw attention to it. Instead, he poured them each a beverage and handed one toward her before taking a seat.
“If you don’t mind my asking, Ms. Reid—”
“Ophelia.”
“Ophelia,” he corrected, “how is it that you know who I am?”
She smiled easily at him. “It’s only been, what, three years since you retired to these islands, Mr. Montgomery? Surely, you didn’t think your celebrity status in the corporate world would be forgotten so readily.”
She noticed her mention of his former life caused Dane to reflexively tense.
“Your face has graced the covers of nearly every notable trade magazine in business.” And Dane Montgomery’s face was not a forgettable one, though she didn’t flatter him by saying so.
His jaw, dusted with a fine smattering of stubble, hardened. “I don’t grant interviews anymore.”
“Oh, I’m not a journalist,” Ophelia assured him.
He studied her intently, his mind obviously scanning its memory banks.
“Ophelia Reid...” he murmured thoughtfully.
She took a sip of her juice, its cool sweetness sliding easily down her throat. “This is delicious, thank you. What sort of juice is it?”
“Guava,” he answered with some distraction before looking at her carefully. “We’ve never met,” he noted with certainty.
“No,” she agreed. “We never have.”
He leaned back, his own beverage standing forgotten. “But I would presume to say you’re not here for a vacation, reporter or no.”
Ophelia took the seat across from him, settling into the cushioned wicker chair. “Not exactly,” she admitted. She couldn’t help admiring the lean, muscled lines of his arms as he crossed them over his chest. No wonder the media had so often portrayed him as something of a demigod in the business world. His famed good looks were even more evident in person than they had been in the articles she’d been reading about him. It filled her with intimidation, and she reminded herself that his looks had nothing to do with her mission.
He narrowed his eyes and watched her. She held his gaze and stared right back.
“I’m here to make you an offer,” she finally said.
Dane dropped his arms and stood, his response short and sharp. “Not interested.”
She sighed. Of course it wouldn’t be that easy.
“You haven’t even heard the terms.”
He shook his head and placed several steps of distance between them, as though she were contaminated.
“Not. Interested.”
She leaned back, looking out over the garden. “Fine. This job’s not on commission for me, so...” She shrugged.
This statement apparently piqued his curiosity, as she’d known it would. Recruiters usually made their living solely on the commissions they reaped from placing high-salary executives in top-end jobs. Working an assignment gratis had to have a compelling reason behind it.
Sufficiently mistrustful, however, Dane did not nibble on this declaration, at least not immediately.
“Ophelia Reid.” He repeated her name once more. “You’re a headhunter.”
Now it was her turn to tense. “I’ve never been fond of that term. I prefer the more noble title of ‘executive recruiter’ in my profession.”
He scoffed. “You can paint it any color you like—it’s all the same to me.”
She took another sip of juice to prevent herself from rising to the bait. Dane Montgomery’s dislike of recruiters was well known, and she chose not to take his disdain personally.
When she remained silent, Dane began to pace, scratching his jawline thoughtfully before finally snapping his fingers.
“Reid Recruiting Agency.” He slid her a sideways glance. “You’re Lillian Reid’s daughter, aren’t you?”
She suppressed a wince, as she always did, when she was labeled in this manner. Her mother’s reputation forever preceded her, singling her out as the only child of the ferociously famous corporate negotiator.
“The one and only,” she coolly owned, lifting her glass in salute.
He frowned, seeming to notice the subtle frost in her tone. “Lillian Reid as your mother.
That
must have earned you your fair share of therapy.”
She tried not to glower at him for this observation. Her attempts caused him to grin, and she felt a strange stirring in her stomach at the sight. “So you work for your mother, then?” he confirmed, getting back to the subject at hand.