I stared at the half dozen buttons on the shiny, silver machine, trying to decipher the meaning behind the hieroglyphic symbols engraved on them. I was the founder and CEO of a Fortune 500 company with a Mensa membership, a master’s in business and a (albeit honorary) doctorate degree from Harvard. I hired people at minimum wage to do this kind of thing for me. I should be able to figure this out. And I had to if I had any chance of making it through the day.

I held up my cup and pressed one of the buttons, and hot espresso sprayed out like liquid fire, searing my skin and staining my white dress shirt and tan, merino wool suit with dark blobs of sludge-like coffee. I yelped and pulled at the fabric, trying to get it away from my skin, but the clothes were perfectly tailored to hug my body.

I rushed to the sink and yanked out a handful of paper towels then drenched them and dabbed at myself. The water cooled my flaming skin some, but it also spread the stains around and left large wet spots all over my clothing. I sighed and dropped my head to my chest.

It was only 11 am, and I already felt defeated. I had hardly slept at all the night before; too many worries were rolling through my mind. And now I had lost my assistant.

Leanne wasn’t exactly an invaluable employee, but she was competent and did what I asked. I had no idea what I was getting with this new person. But I couldn’t afford to be picky, and she was the only one willing to start immediately. I hadn’t even asked for her name; I just told Tessa to send her over.

I also couldn’t stop thinking about how to improve relations between the resort and Sweet Bay. I needed to hire a hundred more local employees, and most of the residents resented the resort on principle. They’d done everything they could to stop me from building it. The council had made me jump through a dozen hoops and agree to ridiculous clauses before they’d approve my permits. Local contractors had blackballed me, and I couldn’t even eat at a restaurant in town without someone accosting me to tell me what a terrible thing I was doing.

When I first decided on the project, I anticipated that some residents might not like the idea of a tourist resort claiming part of the shoreline, but I never expected a citywide protest. I should’ve backed out in the beginning, when I got the first glimpse of their reaction. But now it was too late.

I’d already invested millions of dollars. I had to made this place a success. I had no doubt that visitors would flock from all over the country to enjoy the amenities I planned to offer. But I needed the residents to welcome them, not scare them away. How could I prove to them that the resort would be good for Sweet Bay?

When one of my contractors called me first thing that morning to tell me there was a problem, I rushed out of the house without breakfast or even a cup of coffee, and my brain and body were revolting. I was staring at my wet pants, wishing I could go back in time, when the girl of my dreams walked through the door.

“Calvin?”

I recognized the voice even before I saw her. I’d heard her say my last name a hundred times, usually with derision, but I couldn’t recall ever hearing her say my first name, even though I’d fantasized about it for years as a teenager. She didn’t sound so shocked in my fantasies.

I turned around, and it was like a time machine transported me back a dozen years. She looked almost exactly like she had back then. Eyes like melting chocolate I could drown in if I looked too deep. Sculpted cheekbones, and a tiny, pert nose over rosebud lips. Long, thick, coffee-colored hair that poured over her shoulders, only now it was streaked with caramel highlights. It fell almost to her trim waist that dipped in like a handhold between the perfect curves above and below. A soft, sheer, flowery dress draped over her satiny skin. My fingers tingled with the desire to touch and explore the textures.

She looked me up and down, her brow wrinkling at my wet, stained suit, and I was sixteen again — pimply, gangly, wearing cheap, unfashionable clothes, too shy to talk to girls, and too much of a loser to ever expect any attention from her — and Layla Emerson was the teenage fantasy who starred in all my dreams. Every ounce of self-confidence I’d gained in the last ten years disappeared in her presence.

“Layla.” Her name came out like a wish, a prayer, a benediction. I cleared my throat and deepened my voice. “What are you doing here?”

Her face wrinkled, and she started to wring her hands but then dropped them and smoothed them down her dress, emphasizing the curves. “I’m your new assistant.”

“Oh. Didn’t… aren’t you… I thought you moved away.” Brilliant, Calvin. She’d said five words to me, and I was already tongue-tied like I had been back in high school.

It had been the talk of the town when Layla moved to Hollywood — she made sure everyone knew that was where she was going. She left right after high school with a folder full of headshots and a movie role already lined up. There was no doubt in her mind she was going to be a star.

I’d quit fantasizing about her after I left for college, and I hadn’t been back to Sweet Bay much since, so I hadn’t been around to hear the local gossip. Had she ever made that movie? I never saw her name in lights or her face on the silver screen, but I rarely took time for things like movies.

After high school, I was laser-focused on making my own success, never stopping for a moment to enjoy it. I had hoped that coming back to Sweet Bay to run the resort would give me a chance to slow down a little and savor the fruits of my labor, but it was turning out to be a bigger challenge than I imagined.

“I did. I’ve been living in LA, doing the actress thing. But I wanted to take a little break. I missed Sweet Bay. I heard about the resort, and I thought it might be a great thing to get involved in.” She lifted her chin and tossed her hair, but I sensed there was more to it than she was letting on.

“So, you’re just here temporarily?”

Movie star to personal assistant was still a big change, even if it was temporary, and I wondered what else might have motivated her decision. Perhaps she hadn’t found the success she was looking for in Hollywood.

I glanced at her hands, wondering if she was married and had a family. I didn’t see a ring, but that didn’t mean anything. I wanted to ask her, but we’d never had the kind of relationship that allowed for small talk. The only things she ever said to me when we were teens were insults. I could still hear her taunts echoing in my head. Geek. Nerd. Loser.

She must’ve been remembering that as well, because she dropped her eyes to the floor and said, “Listen, Calvin, I owe you an apology. I wasn’t very kind to you in high school, and that was wrong. I hope you can forgive me. I’d really like to have this job.”

For years I’d endured the insults thrown around by her and everyone else in this town. A simple apology hardly made up for it. And whether she was sincere or not, time would tell. But my success was a form of revenge, and I needed an assistant as much as she seemed to want the job. And I couldn’t resist the idea of having her there, working hand in hand with me, even if just for a little while. It was almost like my fantasies had come true.

I put on the confident face I’d perfected over the years and smiled at her, pretending it was all forgotten. Most days it was. It was only coming back to Sweet Bay that had resurrected all those memories.

“High school was a long time ago. And if you can convince this stainless steel monster to produce a cup of coffee, the job is yours.” I gestured towards the offending espresso maker.

“I think I might be able to help.” She grinned, flashing that adorable smile that made me fall for her every time I saw it, even though she’d never been anything but cruel to me. It hit me the same way it always had.

She walked over to the machine and stared at the buttons for a moment before reaching for one, but she pulled back before she touched it. “This is a really fancy coffee maker.”

“It was the best I could find that was suitable for personal use.” I shrugged. Perhaps it was overly complicated, but now that I could afford it, I always bought the best. No one would deride me for being poor ever again.

She raised an eyebrow and nodded like she wasn’t impressed by my display of wealth. What did it take to impress this girl? Maybe I never could. Maybe I’d always be a loathsome Montgomery, despite my success and riches. That was the only reason she was there; she wanted something from me.

She held my coffee cup up to the machine and pushed a button, but nothing happened. Another button produced a puff of steam, but no liquid. When she reached for a third button, I jerked out a hand to stop her then gestured to my soiled clothes. “That’s the button that did this.”

She stared at my wet clothes for longer than she’d ever looked at me. My body quivered under her attention, and I felt goosebumps pop out all over my skin. What did she see when she looked at me?

I’d grown out of my teenage gangliness, and I worked hard to keep my body in good shape. I had a personal stylist who cut my hair every two weeks so it always looked its best and a personal tailor who made sure my clothing lived up to the image of a successful business mogul. When it came to business, I was confident, but all it took was one look from her to turn me into an insecure mess.

“Do you have the manual for this? I can read it and figure it out.”

“That might be better than pushing random buttons. I would hope the manual would be around here somewhere, but I have no idea where Leanne might have put it.”

I waved at the office Leanne had organized. I didn’t know where anything was. If I wanted something, I just asked her for it. I probably relied too heavily on my assistant, but letting her worry about the small details freed my mind to focus on the larger issues. But with Layla as my assistant, I feared all my focus would be on her.

“It might take me a while to sort through everything. In the meantime, would you like me to run get you a coffee? And maybe some clean clothes?”

I sighed. I could use a few minutes away from her to compose myself. I felt like there was a downed electrical wire flopping around inside me, sparking erratically. “I think I have a spare suit here, but a coffee would be great.”

I told her how I took my coffee, gave her a $20 bill, and she went off to find a coffee shop. Meanwhile, I pulled a spare suit out of the closet and changed, feeling more like the confident, successful adult I was instead of the insecure boy I used to be as soon as I slipped it on. I was jotting down the list of things I needed her to do when she returned with a steaming cup of coffee. The rich, roasted aroma perked up my senses almost as much as her entrance.

When she handed it to me, our fingers touched for a brief moment, and I struggled not to react. It was the first time I’d ever touched her. It was just the tiniest bit of contact, but it set the live wire inside me sparking again. Could she feel that, or was it only inside me? When she handed me my change, she didn’t touch me. Was that intentional?

I took a sip and let the warm liquid soothe me, breathing in deeply and closing my eyes. When I opened them, it was still a shock to see Layla standing there next to me, but I felt more in control of my faculties. “Ah, much better. Thank you. You didn’t get one for yourself.”

“Uh… no.” She seemed uncomfortable and didn’t explain. It was completely irrelevant to me, but my curiosity flared. I tried to ignore it. I couldn’t tell if Layla was annoyed or relieved when I didn’t press. She seemed a little of both.

I picked up the list I’d made and handed it to Layla, then I stood up and motioned for her to take a seat at the desk. She sat down but seemed unsure what to do with her hands. Eventually, she folded them on top of the desk.

“I made a list of things I need you to work on. I really need to hire a general manager, but so far, Tessa hasn’t found any candidates for me, so my assistant has been handling a lot of those tasks.”

I scowled into my coffee, wondering how hard Tessa was trying. I’d thought that she was willing to work with me since she’d get a take on every employee she found me, but so far, she’d sent very few candidates my way.

“I’m surprised you didn’t bring in people from your other businesses, people you already know and trust.” As soon as the words were out of Layla’s mouth, she looked like she wished she could reel them back in.

I took another sip of my coffee and made a face, not at the flavor, although it certainly didn’t compare to my expensive espresso machine, but at the employee situation. “Oh, believe me, I would’ve. But that was one of the stipulations set forth by the town council. I had to hire locals. I didn’t think it would be such a problem to find willing, qualified employees, but the few people in this town looking for employment are biased against me and the whole concept of the resort.”

She fiddled with the things on the desk, straightening them. “Yeah, it surprised me when I heard a resort was being built here. But all the job openings were one of the reasons I decided to come back.”

That tidbit was interesting. It hinted at a lot of things, but didn’t confirm any of them. And it only made me more curious. I tried to suppress the dozen questions that flitted through my mind, but one of them snuck through my defenses. “You wanted to work for me?”

Layla dropped her head, but not before a lovely shade of pink colored her cheeks. “I didn’t know you owned it until I overheard Tessa talking to you on the phone. I probably should’ve done more research into the company.”

I took that to mean the information might’ve influenced her decision. But she’d taken the job even after she learned she’d be working with me. That said something. I just wasn’t sure what. I also wasn’t sure how I felt about hiring her.

How could I work with her when I couldn’t quit staring at her like an infatuated teenager? Her soft curves, the way her hair spilled over her shoulders, tempting me to run my fingers through it, even the scent of her perfume, hidden under the strong odor of coffee, had me wanting to move closer so I could smell it better. All the attraction I’d felt for her as a teen came rushing back like no time had passed. Having her there would definitely be a distraction.

I also wondered how capable she was. Layla had never impressed me as an intelligent person, so I had no idea if she could handle the work I needed her to do. No matter how much I enjoyed having her there, I needed someone who could do the job.

I set my coffee down on the edge of her desk and put my hands on my hips, trying to act authoritative. “I rely a lot on my assistant. I need someone I can count on. Someone who can do whatever I ask of them.”

She gulped and gave me a shaky smile. “Then I’m your girl.”

Now that was a line I’d fantasized about her saying, but never in that context. I forced back a laugh. Talk about irony. “Well, I tend to be demanding. We’ll see if you can handle me.”

That came out much more suggestive than I intended, but she had the courtesy not to laugh. Instead, she dropped her head to hide her smile and looked over the list I’d given her. It was long, but nothing was very difficult. But the way the color drained from her face, she obviously thought differently.