Mistletoe in Paradise Page 3

  Definitely Sally’s doing.

  The area was small, and the farthest she could move was maybe three feet. She was hugging herself and looking out at the stunning 360-degree view when James came up behind her.

  “So . . . what’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” she said, proud that she’d managed to collect herself.

  “It’s never nothing.” He moved to her side and eyed the water before turning all his attention on her.

  Feeling oddly vulnerable, her emotions still far too close to the surface for her comfort, she sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Yes,” he agreed. “Everything is.”

  Right. And this was James, who like it or not—and for the record, she didn’t—knew her better than just about anyone else, even if they hadn’t seen each other for a while. “My mom’s new boyfriend proposed to her. She’s got a date picked out and everything.”

  “Except she’s already married,” James pointed out.

  “Right.” Hannah patted the purse hanging across her body. “She’s divorcing him. I’ve got the papers.”

  James let out a surprised exhale. “Jesus, Hannah, you’re going to destroy the guy.”

  “Look, I know, okay? But she was going to have a courier deliver them just before he set sail yesterday, and I . . .” She shook her head. Closed her eyes. “I couldn’t let him find out like that.”

  She heard James expel a harsh breath. “She shouldn’t have let you do this for her, Hannah. She should never have put you in this position, much less this week of all weeks, over the holiday. She knew what this time means to him.”

  “Yeah,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “I know. I also know that heartbreak wasn’t on his Dear Santa list.” Nope. She’d been the only thing there.

  James lifted her chin with a finger and waited until she opened her eyes. “And I’d bet you delivering the news wasn’t on yours,” he said quietly.

  “No. I hate knowing I’m going to hurt him.”

  “That’s why you’re here this year, so he’d at least have you when he got the news.”

  She looked away, not sure her being here would help at all. “Figured I was better than nothing.”

  “You know you are,” he told her, his voice low and serious. “You’re important to him.”

  She hoped, but wasn’t all that sure sometimes.

  “So she’s not really joining us in Puerto Rico.”

  “I didn’t know she was going to tell him that,” she admitted. “I think he’s been holding out hope for a reconciliation this whole time. Finding out that’s not ever going to happen is going to break his heart. And not to make this about me, but I don’t have any idea how to tell him.”

  He ran the pads of his thumbs beneath her eyes, swiping at the tears she hadn’t been aware she’d let fall. “I get that. And it’s not your fault, Hannah. Not the way she chose to tell him or how he chose to keep his head in the sand for so long when it comes to her. But you’re here now. If I were you, I’d do it sooner rather than later. Rip off the Band-Aid.”

  She met his gaze, surprised by the not-your-fault thing. Intellectually she knew that was true, but emotions were never logical, at least not for her. “I’m going to break his heart.”

  “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

  Surprised that he’d gone there, she took a deep breath. They hadn’t talked about what had happened between them, indeed hadn’t been sure if they ever would. But she knew she owed him an apology. “James, about—”

  “What was on your list?” he cut her off to ask.

  “What?”

  “You said you doubted that divorce was on Harry’s Christmas list. How about you? What’s on yours?”

  She paused, thrown by a question that she actually hadn’t given a second’s thought to. “I . . . I don’t know.”

  “Why not?”

  She shrugged. “I guess I’ve been so worried about this, and also underwater at work, building a case that’s due to go before a judge in a few days, that I haven’t even had time to think about the holidays, much less what I’d wish for.”

  His eyes were on hers, unreadable now, as she braced for the age-old argument between them: She worked too hard, never took the time to live her life. And while that was all true, she didn’t want to fight with him. “James . . .”

  He held up a finger and disappeared down the ladder.

  Okay, so that’d gone pretty much as she’d expected. With a sigh, she sat on the platform, hugged her knees, and stared through the open slats of wood railing. The day was getting warmer and more humid now, each swell of the sea lit from the sun, the whitecaps sparkling like strings of twinkly infinity lights, so beautiful it took her breath away. As far as she could see there was nothing but wide-open ocean and an endless bright blue sky.

  There were certainly worse places to find herself in the dead of winter. But even that didn’t help all the butterflies flapping loose and fancy-free in her gut.

  “Here.”

  James had reappeared without a sound, crouching at her side, holding something out to her in a closed fist.

  She stared at his hand. “What is it?”

  “A Christmas present.”

  “Oh.” She shook her head. “But . . . I didn’t—I didn’t know you’d be here.”

  He opened his hand, palm up, revealing an exquisite anklet with dainty blue stone charms woven onto the delicate silver chain.

  Recognizing it immediately, she sucked in a breath. The stone was Larimar, a rare blue variety of the mineral pectolite, unique to the region. The last time she’d been here, she’d seen it on one of the islands and it had been all she’d wanted for Christmas that year. But neither of her parents had remembered.

  Clearly James had. She stared at it, her throat thick, unsure what this meant.

  “Maybe this will help get you into the holiday spirit,” James said quietly.

  She lifted her gaze from the anklet. “I thought you said you didn’t know I was coming.”

  “I didn’t. I saw it in a market in the Dominican Republic a few years back. I was going to give it to Harry to pass on to you.” He reached over and pulled her bare foot into his lap. Then he unhooked the anklet, carefully wrapped it around her ankle, and resecured it, the feel of his warm, calloused fingers on her skin giving her a shiver.

  He looked up. “Cold?”

  “No,” she whispered, beyond touched. “James, I didn’t get you anything.”

  His gaze fell to her lips and he smiled. “Well, I’ve been mentally working up quite the list. It’s pretty extensive.”

  She gave a shocked laugh and watched as his gaze fell to her mouth. Around them, the air was thick with regrets, longing for what had once been, and the fear of getting hurt. “James, I can’t—”

  “I know.”

  She stared down at the pretty anklet against her skin. “About that year and what happened between us . . .”

  He shook his head. “Not talking about it.”

  “But—”

  He set a gentle finger on her lips. “I’m still struggling with the fact that I’m back here on this boat without Jason.” He closed his eyes for a long beat. “I’m not . . . I’m not steady enough for more today.”

  It felt like a knife twisted in her heart. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

  James drew a deep breath. “You can leave the past in the past.”

  Just then a voice came over the loudspeaker.

  “Morning, cruisers, this is your captain speaking. All guests please join me on the aft deck immediately.” After a pause, the voice went on: “This means you, Smalls and WK!”

  Hannah sighed and eyed James, still crouched at her side, easily balanced on the balls of his feet. “Do you think he’s going to interrupt every conversation we try to have?”

  “It’s your dad. So yeah, probably.”

  Hannah found another laugh in her, and apparently James did, too, and as she soaked up the sight of his quick smile, she had to re
mind herself not to even think about falling for him again. Been there, done that, and it had been more than enough heartbreak for a lifetime.

  Chapter 4

  James held out a hand to Hannah and tugged her up, and okay, maybe into him just a little bit. But hell, no one had ever accused him of being smart when it came to matters of the heart. Even so, for that brief moment when she was off-balance and against him, his world stopped spinning.

  And he’d like to think that little hitch in her breath meant she felt the same. Which was bad because that meant that neither of them was thinking straight, always dangerous when it came to dealing with Hannah.

  She cleared her throat. “James . . .”

  “Captain called,” he said, and gestured for her to climb down first. Not, it should be noted, because he was a gentleman, but because if he had to watch her ass for that agonizing thirty-second climb down as he had on the way up, he wasn’t sure he could keep his hands to himself.

  They found Harry waiting on the aft deck, Santa hat firmly in place on top of his head, hands on hips.

  “Dad?” Hannah moved to him. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, which is a damn good thing. If it’d been a fire or some other emergency, you’d both be toast. Need to put a hitch in your giddyup, kiddos. The day’s a-wasting.”

  Hannah blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  Harry gestured dramatically behind him, where for the first time James realized they were within sight of the small private island that had been their Day Two stop on every trip he’d ever made on this ship. The island belonged to a friend of Harry’s, who allowed him to use it for his guests to play on. James and his family had spent a lot of time on that tiny little oasis of sand and bluffs, his mom and dad sitting on the shoreline reading or snoozing, or just watching James and Jason and Hannah go full-out in competitive spirit at whatever they’d been up to. They’d snorkeled here, played Nerf football on the beach, climbed palm trees, and raced to the top of the bluffs to jump into the water far below . . .

  So many adventures, and all of them had not only shaped James’s childhood but had also fueled him to want more adventures from such an early age. It was the reason he’d finally, a year after Jason’s death, started his own expedition company. He and a select group of people he’d hired worked as travel guides, taking groups out on adventures, specializing in high-end extreme vacations.

  Just this year, his company had finally started to take off in a big way and he needed, wanted, to dedicate his time to it.

  Which was why he was here. He, too, needed to talk to his dad. He’d tried a bunch of times over the past few years, but his dad, brilliant and stubborn, had managed to evade any real decision. James suspected he knew what his son wanted to talk to him about—leaving the family business for his own. So it was with no other choice that he’d come here, away from work, to get his dad’s full attention. What better way than being stuck on a boat together for three to four days with no other distractions?

  But he hadn’t expected the biggest distraction of them all—Hannah.

  “You two take the dinghy,” Harry said. “Sally and I will be right behind you on the inflatable. Set up for the day while you’re at it, huh? What?” he asked at Hannah’s dry look. “Gotta earn your keep, Smalls. This is a no-dough-earned trip for me. I let Hugo and Mateo have the week off. But even with that, my baby costs big bucks to keep running. There’s no such thing as a free ride. Or a free anything.”

  “Which is why you should’ve turned around when I asked,” Hannah said.

  “Maybe I wanted to give you a Christmas gift, too.”

  While Hannah looked to be trying to find a comeback for that, James tugged her to the dinghy, hoping to avoid having a fight.

  “Are you serious?” she asked him when they were alone.

  “Would you rather stay on board all day and scrub the decks?”

  He figured the point was made when she dropped into the dinghy and waited for him to jump in before untying them and starting to row.

  And that was the thing about Hannah. She was no shrinking violet. She’d never been content to sit back and let someone take over for her. If there was something that had to be done, she did it. Especially if that something happened to be an adventure. He’d loved that about her. Heck, he’d loved her.

  But in the end, he’d been alone in that.

  They didn’t speak. The only sounds were the sliding of the oars into the water and the slap of the swells against the hull of the dinghy.

  “I’m surprised you came,” she finally said.

  “She speaks.” And because she was sounding breathless, he reached for the oars to take over, but she shook her head and kept rowing.

  “I’m surprised,” she went on. “Because I imagine you’re just as busy as I am, what with the two jobs.”

  His brows went up. “You’ve either been asking around about me or stalking me.”

  She actually blushed. It was fascinating. She was fascinating, damn her.

  “Fine. I’ve kept up with you through my mom,” she admitted. “She talks to your mom all the time.”

  He was surprised at the mixed feelings this stirred up in him. Yes, he very much enjoyed the idea of her keeping track of him. But it also pissed him off. “You could have texted, emailed, called . . . anything. I’d have told you whatever you wanted to know.”

  She stared at him, then looked away.

  “Right.” He nodded. “You didn’t want to talk to me. Message received, believe me.”

  “That’s not what the message was.”

  She didn’t say anything else, and hell if he would ask.

  Halfway to shore, she slowed, puffing for air. “I’ve spent . . . way too much time . . . behind a desk lately,” she gasped out.

  This time when he reached for the oars, she let him take them. “Do you love what you do?” he asked, genuinely curious. He wasn’t sure what there could be to enjoy, being in an office all day long pushing papers.

  She hesitated at the question, further piquing his interest. “I believe in what I do,” she finally said.

  He didn’t want to, but he felt a pang for her regardless. For him, too, and the loss of what once had been. She didn’t seem . . . happy. “Hannah.”

  She grimaced. “Look, things change, okay? Childhood dreams change. We grow up. I grew up. Exploring the planet, chasing adventures—that was a girl’s dream. What I do now works for me.”

  “Okay,” he said.

  She shook her head, stood up in the dinghy, tugged off her adorably sexy little sundress—leaving her in a heart-stopping white bikini—and dove into the water. A perfect dive, by the way, leaving almost no splash at all.

  When he pulled the dinghy up onto the sand, she was standing, hands on hips, dripping water as she stared down at a fancy spread of food and wine on a blanket in the shade between two palm trees. “Thought he told us to set up.”

  James shrugged. He’d given up trying to figure out Harry a long time ago. Most of the time he was a good guy with a short attention span when it came to anything other than the boat. But then every once in a while he did something that showed he was paying attention to the world around him beyond his own personal-space bubble.

  “I think the captain fancies he’s on the Love Boat,” Hannah said grimly.

  James opened the picnic basket, snatched an apple, and took a big bite. “At least he left us food.”

  She stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Don’t eat that! Don’t eat anything! You’ll only encourage him!” With that, she whipped around to stare at The Therapist and gasped.

  It was moving.

  Away from them.

  “Be back at sunset,” came Harry’s voice from the loudspeaker that carried over the water.

  Hannah lifted her hands in a “what the hell?” gesture at the boat.

  Nothing.

  She changed to a double middle finger salute.

  “Saw that,” Harry said from even fart
her away now.

  James took the moment to enjoy Hannah in the bikini from the back, a sight that most likely was going to kill him. She was angry, irritated to the max, and . . . gorgeous. She bent to her sundress on the blanket, where James had set it for her, having brought it from the dinghy—nearly giving him heart failure, but it would have been a helluva way to go. Pulling her phone from the pocket, she straightened and hit a number, putting it on speaker for James to hear.

  “WTF?” she said when her dad answered with a cheery “Yo!”

  Harry paused. “What does WTF mean?” he asked. “No, wait, let me guess. It means . . . thank you, Father.”

  She glanced at him across the water. “It means what the freak are you up to?”

  “Who, me?”

  “Yeah, you, Dad. Dumping us here. This fancy spread . . . What’ve you been doing, taking decorating tips from The Bachelor marathons?”

  “Hey, that was our secret,” Harry said. “Look, it just seemed like you needed a little fun. Take the day, enjoy it—though that might be hard to do, since you stole your phone back—but hopefully you’ll try.”

  “Dad.”

  “Work can keep, Smalls. Life can’t.”

  Hannah rubbed the crease between her eyes, looking like she was ready to blow a gasket. “You always do this to me. You put fun ahead of real life . . . Hello? Hello?” She looked at the screen. “Damn it. He disconnected me. Can you believe him?”

  James turned and started walking along the beach.

  “Where are you going?”

  Instead of answering, he headed to the base of the bluffs that he knew like the back of his hand. He could hear her following him, swearing beneath her breath about the crazy people in her life and the need for a change.

  James was all for change.

  It took twenty minutes to get to the top, but he beat his and Jason’s best time by at least five minutes. Which hurt like hell. He was standing there at the top, hand pressing against the ache in his chest, when Hannah came up beside him, breathing heavily.

  He waited for a smartass comment, not entirely sure he had it in him at the moment to volley back. But she didn’t say anything, wiseass or otherwise. She simply met his gaze. “You okay?” she asked softly.