Heating Up Hawaii
Heating Up Hawaii
Carmen Falcone
Breathless Press
Calgary, Alberta
www.breathlesspress.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Heating Up Hawaii
Copyright © 2013 Carmen Falcone
ISBN: 978-1-77101-962-0
Cover Artist: Victoria Miller
Editor: Megan Martin
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations
embodied in reviews.
Breathless Press
www.breathlesspress.com
For my darling mother, Selda Falcone, who taught me that tomorrow is another day. It turns out she was right.
Chapter
One
Only a few more months.
Penny Ashbrook pressed her folded arms on the metal rail of the rooftop bar. She looked at the pallet of orange, yellow, and pink colors dipping into the background as the sun set behind the Dallas skyline. A few more months, and she’d be debt free–and not just monetarily.
Although each day would stretch into the length of a decade, she knew she could handle it. Hell, hadn’t she done just that for the past six months? She’d kept her head high and chin up even though her boss’s passive aggressiveness often drove her crazy. She’d pretended not to listen when small-minded coworkers whispered behind her back. At thirty, wasn’t she too old to be the talk of the office?
With a sigh, she stood straight and squared her shoulders. The much-awaited networking happy hour was not the place for a therapy session. She glanced around her. A sea of people occupied the large outdoor area. Elegantly attired men and women sought new contacts and hot leads while munching on caviar hors d’oeuvres and overpriced liquor.
She decided to stare at the blinding sun one more time, in hopes of extracting enough energy to walk around and get moving. After all, her client list wouldn’t just materialize in front of her, would it? She’d had to fight hard and strong to get where she wanted to be.
“Penny, I’ve just run into an old friend of yours,” her boss, Charles Dawn, told her while his fingers lightly touched her elbow. He prompted her to turn toward him and the tall, broad-shouldered man standing next to him.
Penny flashed her signature smile and squinted to get a sharper view of the man in front of her. An oversized palm tree shadowed him.
She guessed he was at least six feet two, which put her at a disadvantage at only five feet six. His dark gray designer suit looked tailor-made to fit the planes of his large chest, and good God, legs that went on and on.
Old friend?
She couldn’t remember having friends that looked this intimidating—old, or current. If she was honest with herself, the few friends she had, all vanished like dust after she’d called off her wedding.
But this man… He took a step in her direction, the setting sun illuminating his face as he moved out of the shade. She glanced at him like her eyes were old-fashioned camera lenses, capturing his features in slow motion and adjusting to his figure. His lips, sensual and rich like his clothes, twitched. As soon as her gaze collided with his, her heart skipped a beat for a few seconds only to resume and pound its way out of her beige linen dress.
Luc Leoni.
It couldn’t be, could it? To see him again after all these years.
Oh, but it was…
Penny stared into his two-colored eyes—one lighter than a clear blue sky, and the other reminiscent of murky seas. Yes, even they were ambiguous.
“Luc.” She cleared her throat, and noticed a couple of fine lines around his mismatched pair.
“Penelope.” Luc’s velvety voice was like a warm caress. His French accent alone lured women to drop their underwear by his bedside. His deep pronunciation of her name hadn’t changed…
Pen-ay-looh-paay.
Penny stiffened her back, offered him a professional handshake under Charles Dawn’s ambitious grin. Although she wished she could kick Luc Leoni where he deserved, she had to swallow her resentment and go along with it.
Luc took her hand in his larger one, and heat coiled low in her stomach. But instead of a professional handshake, he pulled her closer with a swift movement and leaned down. He kissed her on one cheek, his warm lips brushing gently on her skin. The whisper of a touch between his stubbled chin and her other cheek belted a wire of electricity into her system.
Penny smelled his earthy masculine cologne, where rich woodsy notes blended with a light citrus. Luc Leoni was a fantastic gift wrapping for an unworthy product.
He stepped back.
This can’t be my imagination…
The hot breeze ruffled a few lustrous black strands of his hair, warning her that it was all too real.
“What a small world,” Charles said. “I did fail to ask where you two know each other from.”
Penny tried to swallow her growing apprehension. She must have some really bad karma to face the man who broke her heart, after all those years, in front of Charles: her boss, the father of her former fiancé, and the man who made it hard for her to come to work every day.
“Champagne?” A coiffed waitress offered, her smile widening at Luc, who simply thanked her and shook his head. Penny picked a flute, her fingers tightening around the chilled glass.
“I was an intern at a hotel in New York for a couple of months, and Luc managed that hotel.” Penny sipped the sparkling liquid hoping—no—
needing
to cool her unpleasant ardor.
“How long ago was it, seven, eight years?” Luc scratched his chin as if they discussed a far less important event. She saw an emotion she couldn’t—or didn’t want to— read in the depths of his eyes.
“Eight years.”
And two months.
“
Oui
,” Luc said coolly. “You must be married now, with let me guess, two kids? Three?”
“Single.” Penny avoided looking at Charles and drank the remaining champagne in one big, clumsy gulp. “No kids.”
“Oh.” Condescension laced Luc’s voice. Clearly he remembered a conversation they’d shared long ago and was using it to embarrass her.
Certainly he didn’t have any other motives?
When she noticed the satisfaction in his eyes, Penny’s gaze darted to the lime green walls for a moment. Asking about what he had done in those years was futile–she knew all too well. Those moments when curiosity won the battle against self-preservation and she typed his name in Google, or read a headline about him with a generous pint of cookies-and-cream ice cream beside her. Hell, the last time she’d done that had been only a few days before her doomed wedding day to someone else.
Luc Leoni was in his prime. Mid-thirties, he was the owner and CEO of an exclusive hotel chain. He had properties all around the world and dipped into diverse niches including hotels in dangerous locations, resorts specific for women travelers and for the gay community.
“I told Mr. Leoni what a great asset you are to our company.” Charles pulled her from her thoughts, his eyes on her like mold on a dirty shower curtain.
Penny turned her pressed lips into a smile. Something wasn’t right. It wasn’t like Charles to say nice things about her in public
. At least not anymore.
Luc had an unreadable look on his face. His duality went far beyond his eyes. His mother was French, where he supposedly inherited the veneer of cool sophistication that could throw someone off balance. But the intensity that sometimes flashed in his eyes could possibly be from his Italian father, from whom he’d inherited his surname and olive skin. The same intensity he showed in situations far more private.
Luc…the quiet lion. A lion all right, in name and pride.
“And Mr. Leoni told me he’s in the market for a new PR firm,” Charles continued with a self-congratulatory look on his face.
“My PR firm is no longer satisfying my needs,” Luc said to Charles, but he glared at her.
A shiver zipped down her spine.
Yes, it all made sense… Charles entertained the idea of representing Luc’s company. Why didn’t she think of it sooner? A big account like Luc’s would put their medium-range firm on the map, not to mention all the references they could get.
“I see.” Penny nodded, pleased at her nonchalant tone. “We have a lot of experienced consultants at our firm, Luc. I’m sure you will be satisfied.” She hoped, if he signed a contract with her firm, that she would never have to deal with him personally.
“I don’t know, Penelope. When I heard Charles rave about you, I imagined you would be a bit more eager about acquiring an account,” he said with a hint of mockery in his cultured voice, “as big as mine.”
As big as his
… Penny could feel the flush of crimson spreading across her cheeks. “Luc, I assure you—”
“If corporations in the hotel industry are supposed to be your specialty and your lack of initiative is palpable, how does that make your company look, I wonder?”
“How can you say that?” Penny started, blood pounding in her veins. Who the hell did he think he was, to come and try to humiliate her in front of her boss, and then just stand there with that smug look on his poker face? “I will have you know that DG PR & Consultants is a great firm, and you have no right to make assumptions based on a thirty second conversation.”
“What Penny is trying to say,” Charles said, and the pressure of his fingers on her elbow warned her of what was to come, “is that she is surprised and flattered by your interest. Mr. Leoni, do you mind if I have a word with Penny in private?”
“Not at all.” Luc flashed his straight, white teeth and gave her a once-over, leering at her. A hint of a smile formed on his lips, and it was clear he enjoyed the outcome.
Damn Luc Leoni.
He was probably having a nice evil laugh now at her expense, while Charles led her to the indoor area where waitresses went to replenish their trays or close tabs on a sleek computer screen.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked her in a low yet assertive tone. The smile on his lips didn’t match the menacing look in his eyes. “Listen to me, Penny Ashbrook–the only reason I still have you on my payroll is because I promised Darren I wouldn’t fire you over what you’ve done. You damn well deserved to get fired.”
Penny breathed in sharply. She was certainly paying a high price for her pride when she’d insisted she pay back the expenses of the doomed wedding day. Maybe going broke would make up for her guilt.
“Mr. Dawn, it’s not appropriate to bring this up.” Cold sweat broke out on her skin and she wiped it with the back of her hands.
“Fair enough.” Charles stepped closer. “I can, though, fire you over losing a big account because of whatever personal views you have of Luc Leoni.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.” Charles’s eyes narrowed. “The man needs a new firm, he said so himself.”
Penny squared her shoulders. “Mr. Dawn, how did you meet Luc? And how did he know I work for you?”
“I was talking about your work to Harry, my PA, in the men’s restroom.”
He talked smack about me to someone from the firm. No news there.
She didn’t expect a warm hug and a blanket from Charles, but at least some basic level professionalism.
Just a little bit more time
, she reminded herself. She would finish making the payments, and leave the firm and open her own boutique PR consultant office.
“Mr. Leoni happened to be washing his hands. He heard your name and told me that he was an old friend, and rumor has it, he’s in the market for a new PR firm here in Texas as he’s expanding his hotel group.”
Penny shook her head. “I doubt that he even needs a new PR.”
“Get over yourself, Penny.” Charles interrupted her with an impatient glare. “Mr. Leoni is a world-known hotelier, and he was kind enough to give you a chance. If you don’t go out there and secure this account, don’t bother coming to work tomorrow morning.” Charles smoothed his suit jacket, removing invisible lint from it. “And forget about any references from our firm.”
***
Luc stared at the high buildings that reached for the sky among the darkness of the star-free evening. Life worked in mysterious ways.
Who knew he would eavesdrop on a conversation about Penny Ashbrook while washing his hands in his newly acquired hotel? He should have let it go as an odd coincidence. There could be a different Penny Ashbrook from Dallas, not his Penelope. Not the woman who had stolen a year from his success. A year from the life he was supposed to live.