Page 31 of Clock Strikes Paradise

“Jeez, now you’re making me sound like a robot!”

She burst into laughter. “Honestly, from what you just told me, I think you two might just be perfect for each other. Obviously the man has a moral compass, and he’s proven there’s a human being hiding inside him too. Maybe you two just need to relax and let nature take its course.”

“I just don’t want things to get really weird between us. I’ll let you know how it goes.” I told her about our plans to go kayaking. “But just as two people enjoying the morning. Nothing else.”

“I’m just saying that for once in your life, maybe you should let go, Elise! But at any rate, go enjoy that tropical paradise. Relax and have some fun. Bonus points if that fun involves a certain tall, dark, and handsome billionaire. Love you!”

A smile remained on my face as I returned the sentiment before ending the call. And maybe my feet had a little extra bounce as I walked to change into board shorts and a rash guard.

Rachel was right. Clay and I had quickly gotten over the awkwardness and now something new was starting. He’d actually asked about me as a person! Minutes later, he and I walked along the stunning white beach together toward the kayak and paddleboard kiosk.

“I think I’ll stick with a kayak,” I said. “I’m not sure a paddleboard and I would be a good combination.” It was more that I didn’t want to look like an idiot and fall off in front of him, which was a very high probability.

“I prefer kayaks too,” he replied.

Clay and I checked out our kayaks and he helped me into mine. Together we set off on the gentle ocean, heading north toward the mangrove area the kiosk attendant recommended as a great place to explore. I was a little awkward at first, but I quickly found a relaxing rhythm as I paddled on one side, then the other. We passed the pale-pink Orchid restaurant, silent in the morning light.

A short distance later, the manicured resort grounds gave way to arching trees with trunks and roots sunk into the brackish water. “Here we are,” Clay said as we headed toward a broad, watery tunnel ahead. Tall, green trees arched overhead, and the area had a leafy, rich scent. “Ready?”

“Definitely,” I replied, smiling back at him as I dipped my paddle into the still water.

We glided together through the breathtaking marsh, sunlight filtering through the dense foliage above us and casting dappled patterns on the water. It was magical, like something out of a dream. Ospreys nested in the taller trees, their keen eyes watching us from above, while white egrets flew gracefully overhead. At one point, we even spotted a manatee lazily swimming in the distance.

“This is amazing,” I murmured, unable to tear my eyes away from the vibrant world around us.

Clay nodded. “I loved exploring this place when I was a kid. There’s always something new to discover.”

As we continued to paddle, I found myself sneaking glances at Clay. He seemed so at ease here, so different from the laser-focused businessman I knew back in New York. A sleeveless shirt showed every muscle of his arms flexing as he paddled.

“Look!” Clay pointed at something up ahead. A turtle was sunning itself on a fallen tree trunk, its head stretched toward the sky. It was a peaceful scene that somehow made the moment between us feel even more intimate.

“He’s a big guy,” I murmured, the sight captivating me.

The reptile turned its head to regard us but otherwise remained still. Our kayaks drifted closer together, our paddles momentarily forgotten. My pulse quickened as I met Clay’s gaze, feeling that familiar spark between us. He stared back at me, his eyes filled with a heat that had nothing to do with proper workplace behavior.

I was so entranced by the moment that I didn’t notice my kayak drifting toward Clay’s until we collided with a bump. Our laughter broke the silence, and the turtle dove back into the water with a splash.

“Sorry.” I giggled as we got our wobbling kayaks under control again. “I guess I got a little distracted.”

“That’s okay.” Clay’s smile lingered. That damn lock of hair flopped over his forehead again and he casually swept it back. “Have you ever been kayaking before?”

“No,” I admitted, a bit embarrassed as I started paddling again. “I grew up near a river in Pennsylvania, but I never spent much time on it.”

“Really?” Clay asked curiously. “Well, you’re doing great for a first-timer.”

“Thanks,” I replied, trying to brush off the compliment despite the glow spreading through me at his praise. “How about you? You seem pretty comfortable in a kayak. Do you do this often?”

He shrugged, a trace of sheepishness tingeing his handsome features as we moved through a broad canal. “Not exactly kayaking, but I was on the crew team at Harvard. It’s not quite the same thing, but it’s close enough. Though I haven’t done much of anything outside the gym in years. I’d forgotten how peaceful it is to be on the water.” His face clouded as he followed the movement of a massive blue heron gliding silently just over the water.

Two years ago, a leading sports magazine wrote a feature on Clay and Nate. They both stood on the cover, Clay in a suit and Nate in his New York Rangers jersey, both unsmiling and unbelievably gorgeous. Even back then, my gaze had repeatedly slid back to the icy blue eyes of my boss. Inside, I’d discovered that Clay’s journey to Harvard wasn’t unlike my own to Penn State. He was the valedictorian of his New England high school class and earned a full-ride scholarship. Just like I did. Our paths diverged there, however. I earned a bachelor’s in business but had beenequally interested in hanging out with my friends. At Harvard, he made the business contacts he would use to build his empire.

I glanced at his serious face as we paddled under a low-hanging branch. Apparently, that empire had come at more of a personal cost than I’d realized. I was glad he was taking time to enjoy our respite.

“I can understand why you have such fond memories of Calypso Key,” I said, sighing as I took in the lush scenery. “It’s such a beautiful, tranquil place.”

A smile spread across Clay’s face, making my heart skip a beat. “Yeah, Nate and I used to spend hours exploring this mangrove when we were kids. One time, our mother even sent the resort staff to find us when we lost track of time.”

As he shared the story, I pictured a young Clay and Nate, full of adventure and wonder as they navigated these waters. Had he been a happy, carefree child? Or serious and determined? He hadn’t grown up rich. His family had been solidly upper-middle class.