Chelsea crept down the curved stairway she had no distinct memory of climbing last night, and saw her single piece of luggage sitting forlornly inside the front door where Daryl had left it last night. As if she’d really expected to have a quick, civilized dinner and then be on her way. Sore muscles in her calves, her thighs, and less mentionable places laughed at the very idea. He owned her body as soon as he touched her—a fact he’d firmly established in a supply closet at Las Ventanas—and pretending otherwise only gave him yet another opportunity to prove her wrong. He owned her heart, too, but at least that sad fact remained her secret. Determined to keep it that way, she relied on the meager pre-dawn light to guide her to the living room where she’d left her purse.

She had to get out of there. Now. Last night’s emotional roller coaster had left her reeling. Jealousy, followed by profound, head-swimming relief when he’d informed her the woman in the picture was his sister. For a few precious seconds she’d let her hopes soar, only to have them come crashing down when he’d tossed out what was essentially a, “Whenever I’m in Maui,” proposition. Admittedly, for him the offer probably felt like a commitment, but for her, it underscored the vast gap between what she wanted and what he had to give. Anger and pride had held her tongue last night, but if she faced him in the light of day, with her anger depleted and her pride fucked to shreds, she’d most likely throw herself at his feet and beg for whatever scraps he could offer. She’d subjugate her own wants and needs to suit him.

Same old Chelsea.

The thought got her moving. Carefully, she slipped her phone out of her bag, sat on the sofa, and called a cab. As she spoke with the dispatcher, she dug her compact out of her bag, opened it, and glanced into the mirror. Her listless, sleep-deprived reflection stared back at her, and a red mark decorated the side of her throat.

Branded, like one of the herd. She ran her fingertip over the tender spot, triggering the memory of his mouth on her skin. She dragged her attention back to the conversation in time to hear the dispatcher tell her they had a drop-off in Twilight Cove and the cab would be in the drive in less than five minutes. Miracle. Fate smiled on her for once.

She tossed the phone in her bag and then walked to the door. After opening it, she paused for a last look around. Stalling. Hoping he’d come down the stairs searching for her, and say some magic words that would make her feel like she could still do this.

But she couldn’t. One positive thing had come out of the last six weeks. She wasn’t ready to give up on love anymore. She knew what she wanted, though, and she wasn’t going to find it with Rafe.

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Dammit.” Rafe hit disconnect when his call went to Chelsea’s voicemail, and tossed his phone onto the kitchen island. It skidded across the granite and clattered onto the terrazzo floor. “Dammit,” he said again, at the same time Arden came through the sliding glass door leading from the deck.

“And good morning to you, too.” She picked up his phone and handed it to him.

“Thanks. When did you get back?” Realizing he sounded surly, he added, “And how was…wherever the hell you were?”

“I got back about an hour ago, and San Francisco was lovely. Going out on a limb here, but am I interrupting some kind of temper tantrum?”

“No.” He didn’t intend to explain to his little sister that his carefully laid plans had somehow backfired and he’d woken up alone this morning, instead of next to Chelsea. They were not eagerly scheduling his next trip to Maui over eggs and coffee.

“Does it have anything to do with the woman who caught my cab?”

“You saw her? Did she say anything?”

“I didn’t see her. My driver got the call and said something along the lines of this being his lucky day, because he had a woman to pick up next door. I almost fell out of the car. You never bring women here. The deal liaison?”

“I need coffee.”

She wandered over to his machine and did the honors. “You must feel pretty strongly about her, to invite her to your house.”

He opened his mouth to tell her to mind her own business, but what popped out instead was, “I love her.” His heart took a minute to resume beating after that confession, but the words—and the truth behind them—rang in his ears. He didn’t just want more from Chelsea. He wanted all.

“Oh my God!” She spun and treated him to a huge smile, but then her expression sobered. “So what happened? Why’d she leave?”

“It’s complicated, Arden. I had a strategy—”

“Strategy.” She rolled her eyes. “You are definitely your father’s son.”

He dropped into one of the tall stools around the island, and scrubbed his hand over his face. “We both walked into this with certain rules in place, and now I want to break every single one. Hell, I want to shatter them, but breaking and shattering seemed like bad tactics. I thought we should ease into it.”

A sharp stare, disconcertingly similar to his own, skewered him. “Define ‘ease into it’?” She made air quotes around the words.

“I don’t know. Just…” He trailed off, unsure how to phrase things. This was his little sister, after all. But she saved him the trouble.

“Holy crap, Rafe. What the hell did you propose?”

He winced and looked down at the counter. The flecks and grains in the granite formed an infinite variety of patterns. A question mark. A man walking off a cliff. The word “ass.” “I said I’d come to Maui once a quarter—give or take.”

“What?”

“Look, I know how it sounds now, in the light of day, okay?” He stood and stalked over to the fridge, then paced back to where he’d started. “At the time, I thought, ‘Just get the fuck out from under the hard stop imposed by the close of the deal. Get her to agree to keep us going, and then…whatever it took. Ratchet the frequency up until something had to give.’”

“Amazing.” She shook her head and looked at him as if he were a lost cause. “Hard to believe she didn’t jump at your proposition.”

“Shut up.” He stared out the window at the waves.

“You know, all that breaking and shattering you wanted to avoid goes by another name.”

He exhaled slowly, and braced his forearms on the island. He’d fucked up. He’d fallen short. And he knew it. Putting the right label on the mess wouldn’t improve a damn thing. “Do the semantics matter?”

“They do.” She crossed the room and propped herself on the other side of the island, opposite him, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “It’s called laying your heart on the line. It’s where you drop the games and strategies, and tell the other person how you feel.”

“In the language of negotiation, that’s called the all-or-nothing approach. It’s generally considered a risky move.”

She smiled up at him. “Good thing you like to take risks.”

Chelsea pulled her rental car into an open parking space near the address Laurie had given her. She raised her sunglasses to her forehead, and riffled through the file folder on her passenger seat until she found the small white envelope tucked between the freshly signed contracts for the sale of Tradewinds. Her hands shook as she opened the envelope, and her breath caught at the sight of all the zeroes on her bonus check. Fifty thousand dollars. Despite all the upheaval of the last twenty-four hours, she smiled. Sure, she’d failed miserably at guarding her heart, and her fresh start was an epic fail, but she’d accomplished one important goal.

Clutching the check, she got out of the car and walked the few steps to the empty storefront with the For Lease sign in the window. She squinted against the noon sun and paused to take in the view. Across the street a row of tall palms swayed in the breeze, marking the transition from sidewalk to sand. Beyond, the Pacific glittered in all its cool, blue Montenido glory. When she pictured the ocean, she always pictured this.