Chapter 8

Daisy

Alf arrived an hour ago and I’ve been holed up in a conference room giving him a rundown of what’s happened on the island so far. Though I haven’t told my boss everything for obvious reasons.

Like the fact I had hot cave sex with our client yesterday afternoon.

This job means everything to me. I need to start acting like it. Though as Alf drones on about profit margins I tune out, already envisioning my own logo with a cute daisy on it.

The campaign is progressing well, considering Hart initially baulked at the PR I’d outlined to use him as part of Rochester’s new brand. We got some great shots around the pool yesterday, B.C.

Before Cave.

After our sizzling interlude, we were stilted and awkward, and couldn’t get away from each other fast enough. I’d expected it but it still hurt.

Crazy, considering he was excellent sorbet. Fresh and fabulous, completely cleansing me of Casper. Exactly what I’d wanted.

So why do I feel so hollow?

‘Daisy, pay attention.’ Alf snaps his fingers in my face. ‘I’ve already met with the client and he’s happy, so I’ll be flying out in the morning and leaving this in your hands.’

I refrain from saying, ‘So what’s new?’ Alf does nothing but delegate. One of the perks of being the boss, which is exactly why I want to be one.

I’ve paid my dues long enough.

As Alf regularly implies, I wouldn’t have this job if it hadn’t been for my father. Dear old Dad was in Alf’s marketing classes at uni and used the friendship card to land me this job. I didn’t mind at the time because I was desperate to land my first job and eager for experience. Five years later, I know something else Dad gave me—the life lesson to never, ever quit—is wearing thin.

I’ve almost resigned many times over the last twelve months but each and every time I’d hear Dad’s voice in my ear: ‘Adlers never quit, sweetheart. We never give up. We see things through, no matter how difficult or challenging.’

He drilled me in the family motto from the time I could walk and I know it’s the only thing that has prevented me from handing in my resignation to Alf.

Besides, I quit my engagement twelve months ago and I don’t want to add my job to that less than illustrious list. I know in my gut I did the right thing leaving Casper, that I could never be the kind of woman a guy like him demands, but the fact remains I still left, ignoring my insistent voice of reason that maybe I should’ve tried harder, maybe I should’ve been more accommodating, maybe I should’ve been…more.

My family didn’t say much when I left Casper but I saw the disappointment in their eyes, labelling me a quitter. The stupid thing is, I can live with that. But it’s hard to admit, even to myself, that deep down I feel like I walked away too easily in my personal life so no way in hell I’ll do the same in my professional one.

I’m sticking with Alf until I nail this Gem Island job. Who knows, maybe he’ll give me a promotion and I won’t feel compelled to leave? And maybe the reef sharks circling the island will grow wings too.

As for my performance, I’m not surprised Mr Rochester is happy with it, considering I spread my legs for him yesterday.

I’m being harsh on myself, because I didn’t have sex with him to get ahead in my job, I screwed him because I’ve never been so attracted to a guy before and I wanted to see what it felt like to have sex without emotional entanglement.

Turns out I don’t do so well having sex like a man.

Silly, because Hart gave me exactly what I wanted. The problem is, I want it again. While I’d never done it on the sand or in a cave, I wonder what it will be like on the luxurious bed in my villa, where we can do it more than once.

I’m not a sex maniac. My year-long drought is testament to that. Even with Casper, it didn’t bother me if he was tired. We had a routine, Wednesdays and Saturdays, and it quickly became rote even though we hadn’t been dating all that long when we moved in together. Before him I’d had three boyfriends, each lasting a few months tops.

Sex is fun with the right guy, and until now, I thought I’d already had it. Turns out my previous boyfriends and one narcissistic fiancé weren’t so great in the sack after all.

Damn Hart Rochester for making me want more than sorbet. One scoop isn’t enough: I want the whole damn tub, with sprinkles on top.

‘Is there a problem, Daisy?’

Lost in my musings, I wonder how much I’ve missed of Alf’s ramblings. I occasionally tune out but not to this extent and I certainly don’t fantasise about guys during our work discussions.

My cheeks are hot and I struggle not to squirm in my seat like I’ve been caught red-handed doing something naughty.

‘No, Alf, all good. I’m just envisaging how I can up the ante with the campaign.’

‘Excellent.’ He rubs his hands together. ‘Keep this up for a few more years and who knows? I might give you a promotion.’

WTF? I’ve been doing a stellar job for the last five years with minimal input from him. He’ll criticise for the sake of it, trying to find fault when there isn’t any. He metes out measly pay rises annually and acts like he’s giving me an extra ten grand. He takes all the credit for my ideas in meetings and is generally a pompous ass that needs to make better use of deodorant.

I want to tell him where he can stick his job, and that after Gem Island I’ll be giving myself a promotion far away from him, but I settle for a sedate smile, knowing I’ll need to pop a heartburn pill or two later.

I won’t walk away, not this time.

I almost cheer when there’s a knock on the door and Hart strolls in. Alf fawns over him, effusive and embarrassing. Hart’s discomfort is obvious when Alf slaps him on the back and he steps away. Predictably, Alf doesn’t notice.

Alf nudges Hart again. ‘I’ll leave you in Daisy’s capable hands. She’s not too shabby at her job because I taught her everything she knows.’

My fixed smile doesn’t slip until Alf waddles out of the room, when I slump in relief.

‘That guy’s an asshole,’ Hart says, staring at me with raised eyebrows when I smother a snort.

‘He’s not so bad.’

He’s worse but I’d never badmouth my boss behind his back. I wave Hart towards the chair next to me so we can get started on the next stage of the campaign.

‘I admire loyalty.’ He points to the clearly labelled manila folders laid out in front of us. ‘From what I’ve seen so far, your work is excellent. You’ve done your research, your presentation was kickass, and your notes are impeccable. Why don’t you go out on your own?’

The last thing I would ever do is tell a client my plans. It’s unprofessional. Then again, I’ve already done unprofessional things with this particular client, what’s one more?

‘It has crossed my mind. But that whole loyalty thing…’ I shrug, wondering what he’d think of the real reason why I won’t walk away. ‘Alf gave me my first job. I’ve learned a lot.’

He studies me intently, like he knows I’m not telling him everything. ‘There’s a difference between blind loyalty and hiding your talents where they’re unappreciated.’

How the hell does he do that, articulate my doubts?

‘Who knows what will happen when I increase bookings across your chain of hotels? A big tick on my CV is always handy if I do decide to branch out.’

‘You’ve got a great work ethic.’ He nods, the admiration in his gaze making me want to preen. ‘Though we both know that making someone like me an identifiable part of the Rochester brand is what will really have clients clamouring for your PR services.’

His drollness makes me smile. ‘I didn’t want to state the obvious,’ I say, with a self-deprecating shrug that makes the corners of his mouth twitch.

An awkward silence descends, as I knew it inevitably would after how we parted yesterday. ‘Consider your palate cleansed’ was the last thing he said to me. True, but it was the way he said it that was the biggest let-down after the great sex: like it meant little and he couldn’t wait to escape.

Following an embarrassing crying jag in the shower afterwards, I was determined to put my game face on when we next met. But as the silence stretches I know I’ll have to broach the subject of what we did in that cave.

I clear my throat. ‘Yesterday was an aberration that shouldn’t have happened. We’re working together and it complicates things—’

‘Don’t do that,’ he snaps, a deep frown grooving his brows. ‘You’ve got nothing to apologise for.’

I’m so taken aback by his harsh tone I’m not sure how to respond.

He grimaces. ‘Sorry, it’s a pet hate. Don’t ever back down or apologise for something that isn’t your fault.’

Ah…so that’s what’s bugging him. He thinks he took advantage of me somehow. I need to disabuse him of this notion because it’s far from the truth.

‘You think what happened yesterday was all you?’

His frown deepens. ‘Of course. I lured you to the cave on the pretext of work, knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you after our little sparring session by the pool earlier.’

‘Oh.’

Call me na?ve but I didn’t suspect a thing.

‘Yeah. Oh.’ A faint pink tinges his cheeks, like he’s embarrassed. ‘Considering my spiel after our kiss on the beach that it wouldn’t happen again, doing something like that is all on me.’

‘As I recall, there were two people doing the fucking in that cave.’

Now it’s his turn to be shocked as his jaw drops and I place my finger under his chin and shut it.

‘I don’t know why you feel guilty about what happened. It was stupendous, exactly what I wanted, so don’t beat yourself up.’

I’m tempted to say more, like how much I’d like to do it again, but I wisely keep my mouth shut. I can’t allow this unexpected infatuation to derail my plans to make this the best job I’ve ever done.

‘Now that we’ve got that out of the way, why don’t you take a look at this campaign I’ve brainstormed and let me know what you think?’

I slide a folder across to him, silently willing him to drop the subject.

We had hot sex.

In a cave.

Shit happens.

But as he flicks through the sheets of paper and I study him, I know my plan to keep my hands off him will be sorely tempted over the next few weeks.