One Bossy Dare

While I’m waiting for coffee chemistry to do its thing, I drop into a lounge chair and stare out at the breathtaking view.

For men like Cole, this is the good life. If I just had a mai tai, it’d be perfection.

Only, there’s no denying the way he and Destiny keep dancing around some big, ugly shadow hanging over this place.

What kind of dark side does paradise have?

“Something smells goddamned delicious.”

I jump at the sound of his voice.

He hasn’t even entered the room yet, but that smooth bass voice covers my arms in goosebumps. I hop up, pulling off my safety goggles.

He comes around the corner a second later, all ripped muscles on full display in tan shorts and a colorful Hawaiian shirt.

Holy hell. Deep breath.

But he’s such an anti-Lump today that he doesn’t make it easy.

He stops in the doorway, deep-blue eyes roaming up and down my body. He doesn’t hide how they linger on a few choice places along the way.

My mouth is like cotton. When I swallow, I almost cough, crushed under the weight of Cole Lancaster’s hungry eyes.

When I’m finally able to look at him again, I see red.

Jesus.

Until him, I didn’t know a simple look could cut me open.

“I see you’ve settled in. I dig the island look,” I say, taking off my apron slowly and self-consciously.

“Glad you approve.” He bowls me over with that billion-dollar smile. “You working on the peaberry brew already?”

“Yep. If you want to stick around, it should be ready soon.”

“It’s only fair I offer up my services as taste tester.” He stops, his nostrils flaring, closing his eyes for a few heavy seconds as he inhales. “Goddamn, woman. If it’s half as good as it smells, I could kiss you.”

What?

I rock back like he just jabbed me with a cattle prod.

“To be fair, I’ve never worked with beans this delicate. I’m curious to see how it goes....” And not at all horribly curious about how he tastes, I lie to myself.

While we make small talk about the coffee farms, my brew finishes. I ladle black liquid into a cup, serving the first batch black like he requests.

Cole nearly rips it out of my hand before I can take a sip.

“Careful!” I shake my head. “Impatient, much? I wanted to make sure it’s even palatable before I serve it to my boss.”

“Like you’ve ever cared I’m your boss before.” He smirks.

“I mean, I need you alive to sign my paycheck. Can we lay off the coffee burns today?”

He snorts so hard his broad chest shakes.

“Y’know, I think you belong in Hawaii. I’ve never seen you so amused before.” I fill another cup, bring it to my mouth, and take a long sip, wrinkling my nose. “Eh. Not awful, but it’s a little more scorched today than I’d like.”

Cole looks at his cup and shrugs. He practically tosses it back in one gulp.

I’m not breathing, feeling the same tension a person on trial must get before a jury’s verdict.

“Not awful, Eliza? I could sell this now. Tastes like black gold.”

“Oil?”

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles.

I give him a doubtful look. “If it were just the mainland stores, maybe. But do you honestly think this is worth fifteen bucks per cup in a luxury resort?” I pause. “Smells like highway robbery to me.”

“It’s not the final version. You’ll tweak it and do a proper tasting survey, but it’s hardly a bad starting point. Quite a bit smoother than your average Kona roast.”

I eye him suspiciously, but see no sign he’s pulling my tail.

“I’ll admit you’ve spent way more time in luxury resorts than me. But I’m not sure the slogan of a Winthrope exclusive coffee should be ‘better than average.’”

He smirks, his eyes glowing like he could spank me—and wouldn’t that be godawful?

“Don’t kid yourself about the high-end crowd, honey badger. Rich people aren’t always as discerning as they think. Sometimes they’ll assume something is better only because they paid more. I agree we’ll make improvements, but I doubt it needs the work you think.” His gaze is so intense as he takes a step closer. “Perfect is the enemy of good enough, and that’s what makes the world run.”

“Did I accidentally sign up for your business course? I want out.”

I stare up at him, suddenly too breathless to keep sassing.

My eyes drop to his lips, that thick seam perfectly framed by his jaw, slowly chewing a hole in my whole world.

Yes, I’m aware I’m staring like a flipping idiot, but can I stop?

No.

“I don’t expect you to be chained to this lab the entire time we’re here, you know. Get the hell out. It’s a beautiful island. You should explore it. Fuck knows how many hours the rest of the team is actually working,” he rumbles.

Why does every little bout of grumping just make him hotter?