“Cami,” he said, “I might want this to last.”
Leaning back slightly, she searched his eyes and pressed her hand against his cheek.
His lips brushed hers, and she swooned at his gentle caress.
“How can this last, Ben?” Was there a possibility of a future for them? Did they have a love that could last? “Our paths are literally on different hemispheres.”
“You and your realities.” Ben kissed the top of her head. “No more talk about work or about different paths. Let’s just enjoy tonight.”
“Agreed.” See, she couldn’t tell him. They’d just agreed not to talk about work, and she was a woman of her word.
“I need your signature.” Jordan handed Ben an iPad as he crossed the marble and steel lobby toward the manager’s office. Ben had been in Sydney one week, and he’d fallen into an easy routine. He missed the unpredictability of the schedule he’d kept in Hearts Bend, and the time difference made talking with Cami tricky.
The engineers had just connected the lobby fountain, and the crew was now serenaded by bubbling water. Light flooded the space from the domed ceiling, and the Emerald had a “lost in paradise” tropical feel.
It had been Ben’s idea to give the Emerald’s front entrance a lush, tropical garden ambiance, and so far, they were on track for a world-class lobby.
“What am I signing?” Ben said as he scribbled his name. “Please tell me this is for the towels.”
“And the tablecloths. The lads are unloading the crates now. We’ll have them laundered by the end of the week.”
Ben and Jordan headed in different directions at Ben’s office. Sitting at his neat, orderly desk that had no pictures of the people he loved, he kicked off his leather shoes. He missed his sneakers and work boots at the inn.
He missed Hearts Bend, and keeping in touch with Cami was hard, seeing as they were in radically different time zones. They kept up a running text conversation, but the reality of keeping a relationship going with Cami faded by the moment.
Ben grabbed a bottle of Mount Franklin water and returned to his desk. Taking a long swig, he reviewed the checklist on his screen.
Lobby paintings were hung and the wall texture complete. The commissioned sculpture by a local artist was due at the end of the week. The lighting was installed, and tonight they would test the light board for effects.
A group from Hong Kong had toured the Emerald this morning and signed a contract to begin the Jade Resort and Spa in the next two years. There was a dinner to celebrate in a half hour.
Jim had been impressed with the Hong Kong success. He’d clapped Ben on the shoulder after they left.
I wasn’t sure you were keeping on top of things while in that Podunk town, but you’ve proved me wrong. Well done.
Ben had turned the praise around on Jordan. He couldn’t have done any of this without him.
Another pass over the checklist, and Ben swirled his chair to look out over the harbor. The Opera House reflected on the water as a sailboat floated by. He’d been dreaming of this view since he’d gotten the assignment, but now that he was here, he missed the quiet garden and green fields outside the inn’s office window.
And this fancy, expensive office chair was not near as comfortable as Granddaddy’s old leather squeaker. Maybe he’d have the chair shipped over. And pack the picture of Granny and Granddaddy that sat on the desk.
Cami wouldn’t mind. Though, she’d hire a manager who would probably bring in an ergonomic chair or even a yoga ball.
He slid open the window and breathed in the saline air of the harbor. But oh, he missed the fresh Tennessee air, the scent of the grass after a rainstorm. He even missed Myrtle May’s off-key singing, and Bart trailing after her.
But what he missed more than anything? The feel of Cami in his arms and her sweet sigh after he kissed her.
But he had no time to dream of a woman thousands of miles away. He had just enough time for a quick nap before dinner. A week in Sydney and he was still jet-lagged.
He moved to the office couch and stretched out. He’d just started to drift off when his phone buzzed. He grinned. Another text from Myrtle May.
Walt made tuna again. Whole place smells like onions. It’s gross. But the Collinses checked in and raved about the scent of lunch. I think they’re aliens.
He hoped she continued these texts after the sale. She was the sports commentator of the inn’s happenings.
Ray said he replaced some coils or something in the AC unit of Cottage Two. Do I need to be texting all this to Cami Jackson?
He’d left a list for Ray. Myrtle May’s play-by-plays let him know Ray was ticking through the list faster than Ben ever had. The man had more energy in his seventies than Ben at thirty.
