FIVE

As if she would be able to do anything but notice him. Sadie glanced at the bottle of wine on her patio table and was surprised to see that it was more than half empty. The moon had migrated high into the sky, night having settled on the island. Her plate was empty; which explained why Sadie’s stomach was heavy, nerves and food battling for space. Colorado had been four months ago and she still couldn’t think about it without warring pangs of embarrassment and longing.

She and Lizzie had tactfully avoided any conversation about what Lizzie had seen until they were in the Denver airport waiting to board their flight. Lizzie had spun her latte around and around on one of the grubby café tables ringing the center terminal. She appeared more anxious about the incident than Sadie. At least on the surface.

“Lizzie, stop.” Sadie rested her hand on Lizzie’s arm briefly before continuing. “Ask what you want to ask, get it over with.”

“What happened, Sadie? What were you doing?” She practically hissed out the last word.

“Kissing, Lizzie. Certainly that part was obvious.”

Lizzie gave her arm a strong poke. “Be serious, Sadie. Obviously, that is what you were doing at the exact moment I ran into you two. You know that isn’t what I mean.” Concern filled Lizzie’s voice. “I mean, what do you think you were doing kissing a client? A VIP client! Kissing Jack Avery, of all people.”

Kissing Jack Avery. Sadie’s lips tingled just hearing those words. She wanted to press her fingers to them, remember the feel of his heat, his pressure against her. She wanted to do it again. So very much.

If Lizzie noticed Sadie’s abstracted look she gave no indication. “Anyone could have seen you. You were in a hallway, Sadie. Shit. What would have happened if Mr. Donovan had seen you? Or that squirrely guy from Procurement?”

“Brian?”

“Yes, Brian. Sadie,” Lizzie tapped her finger on the table, capturing Sadie’s attention. The women’s eyes met, held. All of the censure fell away from Lizzie’s voice, replaced with concern. “Sadie, I know you know this. I know you know how it would’ve looked to anyone else. Anyone who knows who you are. Who he is.”

Sadie wasn’t able to prevent the sigh that escaped her. “I know, Lizzie.”

“You know? Then explain it to me. Explain to me exactly what you know. Just so I’m sure we’re on the same page.” Despite her relatively young age, Lizzie had an astonishing talent for sounding like a disappointed parent. Or an admonishing school principal.

“Lizzie.” Sadie dropped her voice so that it was just shy of a reprimand. She was immensely fond of Lizzie. She appreciated her work, her skill, and her friendship. But she didn’t at all appreciate being scolded like a child by her assistant, especially not after leading their team through one of their most successful events ever.

“I’m not trying to piss you off. Really.” Lizzie reached out and squeezed Sadie’s hand. “I saw how you looked at him this week. Like you didn’t want to but couldn’t help yourself. And I saw how he looked at you. How he’s always looked at you. Even before you realized he was looking.” Lizzie pulled her hand away and squared her shoulders, as if she knew she was preparing for a fight. “But none of that matters. And I know you know why. But I still want to hear you say it.”

Sadie matched her posture to Lizzie’s and leveled her voice to a tone that mimicked Trina’s, their firm’s owner. “There can be no fraternization between staff and clients for two specific reasons. First, any relationship that surpasses the professional to the personal will bring the validity of our contracts into question, as Procurement could construe it as favoritism. Especially if the relationship takes place between members of senior leadership. Second, as our staff is predominantly female working onsite in hotels with predominantly male clients, if a sexual relationship between staff and client were ever discovered it could call into question the boundaries we must maintain between the two parties. And encourage other clients to believe – incorrectly – that they are entitled to special treatment from members of our team.”

“Shitbags.”

“Indeed.”

“Oh, and don’t forget sabotage.”

“That only happened once.”

“And Derrick did have a tendency to get over-emotional.”

“I don’t know. His emotion seemed pretty spot-on to me. Even if his behavior was beyond unprofessional.”

“What, you don’t think replacing Sebastian’s walk-on music with a particularly raunchy clip of phone sex after discovering that he was sleeping with another member of the production team was the height of professionalism?”

Sadie had hardly believed it when she’d heard. It hadn’t been her production crew or event, thank god. But one of their regularly contracted audio guys had fallen hard for a marketing director, who happened to be a regular feature at another clients’ events. And, as it also happened, a regular man-eater. Having caught Sebastian indecorously indisposed with one of the venue’s in-house audio-visual guys, Derrick had exchanged Sebastian’s stage entrance music – Macklemore’s Can’t Hold Us – with a recording that explicitly discussed just what Sebastian wanted held and by whom.

Sebastian had railed, threatened to sue for defamation of character. Trina had spent every bit of good will earned over her years with the client smoothing it over. Reducing their fees. Giving them a multi-year discount on the firm’s services. And, of course, firing Derrick.

“She will fire you, you know.” Lizzie returned Sadie’s attention to the real subject of their conversation. “She can’t risk the same thing happening again. Not that you would even contemplate doing something so unprofessional. But she won’t risk blowback of any kind. This gig, it’s all about integrity. You taught me that. The client lets you into their business, their world. You see content before the public, can’t invest in their stocks for fear of insider trading. You know their team, their best practices, their product details. Any hint that you can’t be trusted to follow the rules, and she’ll let you go. Regardless of how good you are.”

Sadie felt her chest sink, her shoulders curled up as if to better protect herself from the potential fallout that she had narrowly escaped.

“Tell me you won’t do it again.”

“Lizzie, come on. This is ridiculous. Of course I won’t do it again. I’ve worked too hard, too long to jeopardize my career by hooking up with a client.”

“Well, at least we’re clear on that. Now tell me that you don’t want to do it again.”

“Lizzie…”

“Tell me. I’m not going to drop this until you say it.” Lizzie stared at her from across the table. Some of the tension had eased from her mouth but her eyes were still serious, her look almost pleading. “I know you, Sadie. I have seen you doggedly go after everything you’ve wanted for years. And when you want something you get it. So I need you to tell me that you don’t want it. That you don’t want him. Not just for your sake, but for mine. Otherwise I’m afraid I’ll be even more sleep deprived than usual.”

“I’m a grown-up, Lizzie. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“That isn’t what I want to hear.”

Sadie opened her mouth, started to force herself to say, “I don’t want Jack Avery. I don’t want anything from him. Nothing at all,” but just then they heard the final boarding announcement for their flight and dashed down the terminal to their gate, their conversation abandoned.

Which was a good thing, Sadie thought. Because she hated lying to Lizzie.

***

They hadn’t discussed it since. Not when they’d reviewed the guest list for the week in Nevis. Not when Trina had decided that Sadie would go on her own. And not when the envelope had arrived.

Sadie had been surprised by Lizzie’s restraint. Not that the letter seemed suspicious – other than the very fact that he had sent her an actual letter. Not an email. Not a text. He hadn’t had his assistant call her assistant. In fact, Sadie hadn’t seen or spoken to Jack since that breathless moment in the hallway. Complete silence, as if it had never happened. But when Lizzie dropped the envelope on Sadie’s desk she hadn’t even cocked an eyebrow. She had simply carried on reviewing the seating arrangements for the gala they were planning for the following week.

If Sadie was surprised at Lizzie’s restraint, she was utterly astounded by her own. She’d traced her fingers across the return address, “From the office of Jack Avery” clearly printed in thick ink on the heavy paper. She’d stared at her own name where it was hand written on the envelope’s face. But she’d refused to open it. She might not have been able to say the words out loud, but she kept them running on a silent loop in her head. “I don’t want Jack Avery. I do not want Jack Avery.” As a reminder, a talisman against her own temptation. And the letter had sat on her desk, seal perfectly intact, for the past month. Not hidden away, but intentionally pushed to the side. As evidence of her restraint. Proof to Lizzie. And to herself.

Sadie had brought it with her to the island so that she could return it to him. Unopened. That is what she’d planned.

But now, in the tranquil warmth of the tropical morning, Sadie realized she’d very possibly made a huge mistake. She had ignored a missive from one of her clients. An incredibly important client who was arriving on the island that night. The envelope could contain his requirements for the week. Instructions regarding his accommodations, or arrangements he wanted her to make for the extra days he was staying after the event. Sadie felt a small panic swell at the possibility that she’d willfully ignored crucial instructions for his stay. But then she reminded herself, Jack’s assistant would have confirmed all of those details directly with her, just as she’d asked Sadie to book his room – his villa – for three additional nights after the program concluded. No, Janine would not only never send important travel details to her via mail, she absolutely would not have forgotten to double – even triple – check that all of Jack’s requirements were met prior to his arrival.

Calm down; stop being ridiculous. Sadie took a deep breath and relaxed her fingers where they had crushed the envelope. Christ, maybe it was a doctor’s bill for treatment for frostbite after she’d made him sit out on the patio with her. She had no idea. Sadie laughed at herself, a half-choked, chiding sound.

“Get a grip and just open it.”

Sadie. Her name. It wasn’t typed, but handwritten. A bold scrawl made with a steady hand. Sadie inhaled a deep breath, steeling herself as she started to read words that she knew had absolutely nothing to do with work.

Sadie,

There is a particular view that I can’t stop thinking about. A spot at the Seven Winds where the island appears to lay itself out for you, lush, serene, addictively beautiful. You can see the sand where it drops beneath the ocean, where the water spreads out in sinking shades of sapphire before it breaks against the rise of St. Kitts in the distance.

Do you know the view I’m talking about? You must have seen it. You’ll have been to the Seven Winds, I know it. You’d never begin something so important without planning it out, without thinking through all of the critical steps. And I know that you’ve stood at the very spot I’m thinking of, eyes fixed to absorb every lushly painted detail. You may be in constant motion, Sadie, but I know you would never overlook something so breathtaking.

But I would be lying if I said that was the only thing I can’t stop thinking about. Because every time my mind pulls up that view, I see you there as clearly as I see the sun sparkling on the waves and the palm trees rustling in the wind. I know exactly how the island air smells, the salt slicing across the floral haze. I know exactly how the breeze feels, warm but never heavy. And I know, I know, exactly how it will be to stand there with you. To watch your face as the sun dips below the horizon. To look at you under that astonishing canopy of stars. To feel the heat of your skin inches from mine, softer, more hypnotic than the ebb and flow of the tide.

My mind will not give it up, Sadie. The thought of you. The thought of being there with you.

I’m not writing to warn you. I know that your head is already processing, calculating. Tempering my words with considerations and consequences. I’m writing to tell you that my mind won’t give it up – that I won’t give it up. Not until you stand there with me. And acknowledge just how breathtaking it is.

J.

 Sadie sank onto her bed. Her pulse was throbbing in her temples and she was alarmed that she couldn’t quite catch her breath. “Well,” she muttered. “Shit.”