Page 22 of Clock Strikes Paradise

As I stood there, still peering through the blinds, it hit me all at once. I took a firm step back. Despite our proximity, he remained my boss, and I needed to remember that. Clay Harmon was one of the most eligible men on the planet, and I was hisassistant. I lived in the real world, not some children’s fable.

“Get it together, Elise,” I whispered to myself, stepping away from the slider and drawing a long breath. “You’re here for work, not romance.” And I knew better than anyone that nothing but grief came from believing in fairy tales. My gaze fell on the tattered resin angel I’d placed on the dresser earlier and held fast.

The memory crashed into my head like a train. I was ten years old and had spied a beautiful crystal cat sculpture in a boutique window display while walking with my father on a bitterly cold December afternoon. Glinting in the sun, the sizeable figure was nearly round as the feline sat with its tail curled around its paws. Even that young, I’d instantly known it was much too expensive for our struggling family. Dad noticed my fixation on the cat.

“Look at that,” he said with a wink. “Christmas is coming up, isn’t it? Wouldn’t that make an amazing gift?”

I was past the Santa stage at that point, so I just shook my head. “No, it’s all right. It looks like it costs a lot.”

He reared back, his brown hair ruffling in the cold breeze. “Nothing’s too expensive for my princess! I’ve got a bonus coming later this week. You just wait until Christmas morning.”

And so I had, my anticipation and naive belief growing every day. Especially once a heavy square box appeared inshiny wrapping paper under our tree. On the big morning, I’d raced to our living room with Mom and Dad,

Mom laughed at my enthusiasm. “He wouldn’t tell me what was in it. I’m as excited as you are!”

I ripped off the paper hiding my wonderful cat, then stared at the box within. Confusion filled me when I hefted the box up to my face and beheld the blue speckled object inside. “Is this a... bowling ball?” I’d never seen one in person, but I recognized it.

Dad’s face was now the color of a ripe tomato. “Well, that ol’ bonus didn’t come through like I thought. Sorry, princess.”

I refused to allow the tears that wanted to fill my eyes. Mom just stared at him. “What is she supposed to do with a bowling ball, Terry?”

His face became animated. “I thought you and I could learn to play together, Elise! I joined a bowling league. Our games are on Sundays at seven in the evening, so it’s perfect.”

Mom’s face turned to stone. “I do not want my daughter hanging around with a bunch of drunks on Sunday lamenting the end of the weeken?—”

“No,” I interrupted, understanding exactly what was going on. And making a decision. “I want to learn to play.” I took no small satisfaction from the shocked look on Dad’s face at hearing my news. I turned to my mother. “Thank you. I won’t let it interfere with school. This ball is my Christmas present, so I mean to enjoy it.”

And I had. I’d gone to the bowling alley week after week, struggling and learning. Stuffing tissue around my fingers so they fit in the holes better. All while learning to never get my hopes up. Never to believe in empty promises. And several years later, I won the league championship.

Dad’s gift hadn’t been malicious—that was the saddest part. He was right there teaching his unlikely acolyte. Though I never forgot that wide-eyed surprise when I’d agreed to his plan. He'd hugged me tight when I won, telling me how proud he was.

But it was my mother who appeared at my bedside the next night and presented me with the resin angel. Six inches long, it was simple, yet elegant. Something she’d obviously paid for from her meager earnings as a seamstress.

She brushed back the hair from my forehead. “Never forget you’re an angel. Your father sometimes acts before he thinks, but he loves you. I love you too.”

And now every time I looked at that angel, it was a reminder that sometimes all the love in the world wasn’t enough. That you had to create your own story.

Because sometimes fairy tales weren’t even for children.

With a bittersweet smile, I approached the dresser and pressed my lips to the angel. I gently placed it back on the wooden top. As I glanced around the room again, profound satisfaction filled me. Despite the maintenance problem, I was in this room and on this trip because I was damn good at my job. I was appreciated and paid well for that.

And if I was getting a little thumpy-hearted for my boss? Well, Clay Harmon wasn’t exactly Prince Charming, was he? I grinned broadly as I picked up a book and settled on the couch to read. Not being Cinderella, I wasn’t about to do drudge work the whole time I was in paradise.

Later,Clay knocked on my bedroom door and escorted me to dinner. With Bart gone, it was just us. As we walked toward Orchid, his charcoal-gray designer suitonly added to his already striking appearance. Once again, he’d gone for a more tropical vibe with a sunny yellow tie. I wore a swishy lavender dress. It was pretty and whimsical, yet professional enough for a business setting.

The hostess seated us at a secluded outdoor table for two overlooking the ocean, where the soft glow of candlelight and the delicate scent of potted orchids surrounded us. The gentle ocean breeze rustled the hair around my face. This setting was much more intimate than the community dinners we’d had so far, and a ripple ran through my belly. I tried to tamp it back down.

Clay studied the wine list for a moment before ordering a bottle of something red and French. After the server poured some for each of us, he raised his glass and proposed a toast, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “To keeping life unpredictable.”

Our conversation began with a discussion of changes necessitated by Bart’s absence. Clay’s demeanor became cooler and more professional, reinforcing that he could handle any financial situations that might arise. Not that I had any doubt. I offered to help with any extra work he might need and let him know the altercation with Bart wouldn’t affect my work.

A gleam entered his eye as he replied, “Yes, I’m becoming quite acquainted with your abilities. And your determination.”

My cheeks flushed at his words, and I smiled while I tried to determine if he was flirting with me.

As we enjoyed our entrees, Clay leaned in and told me he’d like me to accompany him in the morning to a meeting with both bidders and ensure they had everything they needed. Gratification surged through me atthe trust he was placing in me, and made me want to rise to the challenge even more.

Throughout the evening, I found myself letting my guard down, becoming more relaxed around him. That unspoken connection between us grew stronger. Clay opened up about the pressure he’d been under. His eyes drifted around the romantic restaurant, then over the ocean before us. “Being here on semi-vacation makes me realize I do nearly nothing but work. My only other regular activity is exercise.”