He found himself fascinated by her confident demeanor, and the way she licked her lips before cutting into a section of waffle. The movements held him mesmerized, the length of her fingers, the curve of her wrist...until Keahi cleared his throat, and Dane shook himself back to awareness.
Ophelia didn’t seem to notice his distraction. “I only managed a brief glance at the property on my way in yesterday. Tell me more about the coffee plantation.”
Dane hesitated, uncertain why a recruiting headhunter wished to know about his life here unless she planned to use it in her arguments somehow. The air around the table grew thick with tension as he waited, studying Ophelia’s face. She remained turned toward him, her expression open and genuinely curious. He could feel the rest of his staff waiting for him to respond.
“There are fifteen acres, and about 2,500 coffee trees. We also have an orchard with mangoes, papayas, bananas and coconuts. Most of the fruit you’re served here at the inn is harvested from the plantation. We sit at an elevation of 1,200 feet above Kealakekua Bay, but we’re a short drive to some of the best attractions you’ll find anywhere, including snorkeling, swimming, historic spots, shopping and tours.”
“Yes, your brochure was most impressive,” she noted, and Dane frowned, realizing he had repeated most of what was already in their literature.
“So, why coffee?” Ophelia questioned as she speared a bite of sausage. “Why Hawaii?”
“Why not?” he countered. “Coffee is one of the world’s most sought-after commodities, and Hawaii is paradise.”
“But don’t you ever miss the city?” she pressed.
He leveled his gaze on her. “The concrete, the press of people, the exhaust fumes?”
“The accessibility, the high-rises, the adrenaline?”
“Didn’t we agree we’d negotiate after breakfast?”
To his consternation, he felt that same warmth spreading through his stomach as Ophelia Reid grinned brightly at him and didn’t say another word.
CHAPTER THREE
AFTER FINISHING HER proposal outlining the generous offer from Towers Resorts International, Ophelia was gratified to witness a slight break in Dane’s composure. He leaned back in his chair on the lanai and eyed her carefully.
“Those are some impressively decadent figures. Color me flattered. But I have to disagree on my worth—my skills hardly do such a number justice.”
“Bianca Towers would disagree. She feels you’re worth every penny of that price.”
“Ms. Towers is a spoiled brat, from what I’ve read,” Dane commented.
“Ms. Towers is quite concerned with the future image of Towers Resorts International. Her uncle’s passing and her subsequent inheritance of the company have created a media furor.”
“I noticed,” Dane dryly remarked. “Those photos of her, passed out drunk in the back of that rock star’s limo, were really in poor taste, even for the paparazzi.”
“Mmm, exactly. She needs a solid team behind her, to reestablish her company as a worldwide mecca of luxury and refinement.”
“And Ms. Towers feels she needs me to accomplish this?”
Ophelia leaned forward in her own seat and cocked her head. “Come now, Dane, don’t be modest. How many companies was it that you turned around during your time in the corporate spotlight?”
He scowled at her, but she would not be deterred.
“Take the case of the Heston Group alone. They were on the verge of bankruptcy from bad investments and poor media relations, and you stepped in at the last minute, raising them from the ashes and placing them within the top three companies in their field. Time magazine did an entire feature on it.”
“I don’t do that kind of work anymore,” he insisted. “And there are plenty of others who do. Go dangle your enormous salaries in front of one of them.” In his agitation, he stood and began pacing in front of the patio’s railing.
“Bianca has been very specific,” Ophelia smoothly returned. “She wants you. Only your skills and knowledge will do.”
“Has no one ever told her she can’t have everything she wants?”
Ophelia felt her lips turn upward of their own volition. “I rather doubt it,” she couldn’t resist remarking.
He looked at her directly then, in such a way that Ophelia’s heart began to pound in her chest, and she was forced to turn her attention elsewhere before she began to blush. She focused her gaze on the garden below and savored the breeze, breathing deeply of the fecund scents of greenery and soil.
“Have you ever tasted Kona coffee, Ophelia?” Dane questioned, drawing her attention back to him.
He leaned against the lanai rail, his gaze intent on her. “No,” she confessed. “Though I’ve heard it is incomparable.”
“The remarkable thing about Kona coffee is how each farm’s beans lend a different layer to the flavor profile. While some Konas are nutty with a faint caramel flavor, others are slightly sweeter with berry notes. In general, all Kona coffees have a bright but mellow acidity to them with a full, almost buttery body.”
“You must have a gourmet’s palate,” she said.
Dane shrugged off this remark. “Not especially. But what I find interesting about coffee is the same thing I find interesting about people—the diverse layers of flavor, or purpose. Some are more complex than others with notes so varied and subtle that it takes true effort to define them.”
She held his eye as he studied her. “And you’re still trying to figure out mine, is that it?”
He didn’t respond, and the silence was broken when Pele entered the lanai carrying a tray with a white carafe, two demitasse cups and a plate of candied fruits and chocolate-covered macadamia nuts.
Dane took the tray from Pele and thanked her. She lingered, head cocked as she watched the two of them, until Dane pointedly cleared his throat.
“Thank you, Pele.”
With a shrug, she turned and headed back inside.
“Here.” Dane poured them each a demitasse cup of rich, dark coffee and passed one her way.
She leaned her nose into the fragrant beverage and noted the faintest scents of berry and cocoa. Blowing first on the liquid, she took a small sip and was rewarded with a satisfying explosion of tart fruitiness and mellow cocoa flavor along her tongue. She allowed the full body of the brew to linger in her mouth before it slid down her throat. Greedily, she took another steaming sip.
“It’s fantastic,” she admitted. “Easily the best cup of coffee I’ve ever tasted.”
He grinned proudly. “I knew you’d think so. It’s our own beans, roasted right here on the plantation.”
His pleased expression reminded her of a little boy who had been praised for a job well done. She took another sip. “Impressive.”
She reached for one of the chocolate macadamia nuts. The delicate milk chocolate against the nutty flavor of the treat only served to highlight the Kona roast’s cocoa notes even further.
“I assume this little exercise is meant to demonstrate for me the allure of island life?”
“The point of this little exercise was to demonstrate the quality of the product. Coffee is the second-most-traded commodity in the world, next to oil, and Kona is one of the most lucrative beans. Why should I give that up, along with paradise, to return to a city that never held much