Page 19 of The Caress

I’m just finishing a conference call when I see Ella walk by outside the window.

With a goodbye so quick that it’s borderline rude, I hang up with the NewsCorp board and shut my laptop. I take off after her.

I’m still not sure where our relationship stands.

With my mother still here and seemingly lurking around every corner, Ella and I have gone back to playing the roles of employer and employee most of the time. But at least she’s smiling more and speaking to me again after that outing on the beach with Isla a couple of days ago, so that’s a plus.

And I have my new mantra ringing in my head.Be nice.I’m not a hundred percent certain how to go about that, but I’m damn well going to try.

"Hey," I call out to her as soon as I’m outside. She’s already halfway down the terraced steps toward the private stretch of beach. She looks so damn sexy in her bikini that I can’t help but stop in my tracks and stare when she turns to look back over her shoulder at me.

"What?" she prompts after a few awkwardly silent seconds. "Did you need something? Or did you just come out here to scare me half to death and then stare at me for five minutes?"

I snort because, yeah, I definitely got busted for staring. "It wasn’t five minutes," I say, breaking into a light jog to quickly close the distance between us. "I was just, uh, going to ask if you wanted some company out here. I didn’t realize you were going down to the beach, though."

"Your mother took Stella and Isla shopping," she shrugs. "So I thought I’d take the opportunity to check out the kayaks I saw in the boathouse down by the beach."

She can’t possibly think I’m going to sit back and watch while she kayaks into the ocean by herself, but I know better than to say that part out loud. I don’t pretend to understand women in general or Ella in particular, but I do know for sure that she doesn’t like to be told what to do.

Ironic, since she’s still technically an employee of mine.

"Mind if I join you?" I ask, doing my best to avoid sounding overly protective. She can’t accuse me of controlling her life if I’m asking for permission, right? "I haven’t laid eyes on those kayaks in years. It’ll be fun to see if I can still maneuver in one without tipping over."

"You really want to go kayaking?" A small smile spreads across her pretty lips. "With me?"

"I do. Is that okay?"

Her smile grows a little wider. "They’re your kayaks. I should probably be asking you."

"They’re technically my mother’s kayaks," I say with a rueful grin of my own. "As I’m sure she’d be happy to remind us. But I’m not going to bother asking her permission. It's easier to ask forgiveness afterward."

She laughs as we start walking down the steps toward the beach together. "Since when do you ask forgiveness for anything?"

"Good point. We won’t ask her anything at all."

Bit by bit, step by step, I can see the walls starting to come down. I can’t blame her for putting those walls up in the first place, of course, but it’s nice to be around each other without so much tension and animosity between us.

The kayaks are in good shape, just a little dusty. Ella is actually having an easier time with hers than I am as we take them out and start paddling along the rocky coastline.

"It’s so beautiful out here," she shouts back over her shoulder. "We should do this more often."

I’m too busy trying to stay upright to pay much attention to the natural beauty all around us. Ella watches me for a moment, a smile on her lips.

"What?" I ask. "Can’t a man try to maneuver his kayak in peace?"

She gives me a long, thoughtful look. Finally she shrugs and says, "I see it."

"See what?" I mutter.

I don’t remember kayaking being this much of a struggle. It’s probably been at least fifteen years, maybe longer, since I’ve had to balance myself against the gentle but relentless lapping of the ocean waves.

"I can see you trying to be more flexible. I think a few months ago, you would have just stood on the shore and watched as I paddled the kayak. Now you’re in the water with me. That’s progress."

A grunt leaves my lips. "We don’t have to pick it apart."

Ella shrugs a shoulder. "I’m just saying that I have noticed you trying to soften your approach and be less rigid. And I appreciate it."

My first instinct is to snarl at her. But I catch the sound and cut it off before it rises in my chest. Instead, I give her a grudging "thanks."

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