Rescue Me (Butler Island) (8 page)

Chapter 11

“Looks like it’s going to be a late one tonight.”

Lana’s eyes veered from her computer monitor to Mayor
Cliffburg, hovering next to her with a worried expression. “Why? What’s going
on?”

The mayor braced one hand on her desk, the other on the
back of her chair. His blue and yellow striped tie caressed her forearm,
causing her to flinch slightly.

“Just got a call from the company we ordered our fireworks
from for the New Year’s Eve bonfire. Seems their warehouse was burglarized
early this morning.”

“Let me guess: they can’t fulfill our order.”

The mayor shook his head. “We need to put our heads
together; find a replacement company—and quickly. We’ve got less than a week to
make this happen.”

“Yeah, of course… I’ll make some calls.”

“Great”, he sighed as he pushed away. “Buzz me if you get
any leads.”

Mayor Cliffburg disappeared into his office, leaving Lana
alone with two monstrous dilemmas: finding a company with enough inventory to
supply fireworks before the bonfire next week, and locating a last minute
babysitter to pick Connor up from day camp and remain with him until the riddle
that’d been tossed at her moments ago was solved.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, she made note of the
time: half past four. Connor had to be picked up from day camp by five—or else
she risked having to pay a hefty late fee. She couldn’t afford that; she’d
barely scraped enough money together to place him in the special two week
program to begin with.

It was times like these she wished she would’ve saved her
vacation days, instead of wasting them crouched into a fetal position grieving
after Jimmy’s accident. In the end it hadn’t changed anything. Jimmy was still
gone. She could’ve used the five-hundred dollars she’d spent on the two-week
Christ-mas Break program on gas and hotel accommodations, establishing a new
holiday tradition with her son far from Butler Island, far from curious
onlookers and last-minute pyrotechnic emergencies.

Panic, thick and thriving, mounted inside her chest.

What was she going to do
? Lana
ran her fingers through her light brown hair, wracking her brain for a
solution. Because after all the heartache she’d endured this year, she figured
a miracle was long overdue.

Then suddenly it occurred to her. Reaching for her phone,
she dialed Randall’s number, relieved when she heard his voice come over the
line.

“Hello.”

“I have to work late! My parents are in the
Keys—Kendall’s busy with a newborn—Olivia’s still in Denver—and I’m freaking
out, because—”

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Lana”, he soothed. “Take a deep
breath and relax, okay?”

Lana sucked in a cleansing liter of air, releasing the
breath through her pursed lips.

“Better?”

Lana’s head bobbed up and down several times.

“Are you still there?”

Crud. Had she actually nodded as though he could see her?
“Sorry. Yeah, I’m still here.”

“Okay. Tell me what you need, Sweetheart.”

Lana twirled the phone cord around her finger, feeling a
sense of calmness suddenly wash over her. “I… I need a favor. A big one… Connor
has to be picked up from day camp in”—she glanced at the wall clock
again—“twenty-five minutes. I’m stuck here at work dealing with a major setback
in the New Year’s Eve celebration. I don’t know how long I’m going to be…”
Switching the handset to her other ear, she sighed. “I hate to ask, but—”

“It’s not a problem, Lana. Really. I’ll pick up Connor.
We’ll hang out at the marina for a bit, maybe grab a pizza or something, and
then head back to your place. I still have a key.”

Lana closed her eyes. “Thank you so much”, she whispered.
“I’ll be home just as soon as I can.”

Hours later Lana sat at her desk, her phone wedged
between her right shoulder and ear, waiting for the customer service rep from
the latest pyrotechnic company to return to the line. She’d been put on hold
roughly ten minutes ago by the kind gentleman. Apparently there’d been a
ferocious storm in Atlanta where the company was located, temporarily zapping
their computer system. He’d gone to the warehouse to check inventory the old
fashioned way with his eyeballs.

Lana peered through the large picture window to her left,
the normally serene view of the small courtyard now swallowed by opaque
darkness. Crickets serenaded as she mindlessly tapped the top of her pen
against a yellow legal pad. She would’ve picked the polish from her nails if
she had any left, but unfortunately the last remnants of frosted-pink enamel
had disappeared a half hour ago.

“Any luck?” The mayor inquired, appearing from his
office.

Lana shook her head from side-to-side. “You?”

He moved to stand beside her, leaning his backside
against the edge of her desk. “Nope, looks like we may be lighting sparklers
this year.”

“Yes, I’m here”, she spoke into the phone when the
gentleman returned to the line. She then displayed the universal hand gesture
to Mayor Cliffburg to indicate she’d be with him in a moment. “Uh-huh…
They
canceled
? How many are we talkin’?”

With his secretary distracted, the mayor pushed off the
desk, using the rare opportunity to look his fill without shame. Lana Phillips
had been his secretary for nearly seven years.

And for seven long years he’d wanted her.

Truthfully it was her looks that’d landed her the
position. One glimpse of her sinfully sweet smile and the gibberish printed on
her one-page resumé had no longer mattered.

But he’d been wrong about her. The woman was courteously
resolute when it came to her job: The perfect blend of aggressiveness and
grace; an angel with an ambitious agenda; the will of a lioness with a heart of
a cuddly kitten.

She had people eating out of the palm of her hand—himself
included.

“…Well, we usually aim for double that amount for a
fraction of the cost”, Lana explained as she spoke into the handset. “But since
you’re the first person I’ve spoken to today with inventory left, I guess we
can’t afford to be picky.”

Hmm
,
this sounded promising
.

The Mayor tore his attention away from the lavender bra
strap peeking out of her sleeveless sweater and carefully listened to her end
of the conversation.

“…Well, Henry, we need those fireworks just as much as
your company needs to quickly unload the inventory so you won’t have to eat the
cost. Make us a deal we can’t refuse and it’s a win/win situation for
everyone…”

Mayor Cliffburg stroked his chin with his fingertips,
marveling at her bold, yet dignified approach. She was charming the pants off
the man on the other end of the line—
no surprise there
. In fact, if she
pushed hard enough, they’d probably get the damn fireworks for free.”

“… How soon can you get ’em to us? We’re located in the
Florida Panhandle…
Really
? Well, I think you’ve got yourself a deal!”

She recited the city’s credit card information, as well
as the billing and shipping addresses. “Thanks, Henry. Happy New Year to you,
too.”

After placing the handset back into position, she
slumped, allowing her head to thump against the desk. “I’m not sure how we
managed this”, she began, her voice slightly muffled, “but we’ll have
twenty-four fireworks delivered by Saturday at half-price.”

“Half-price?” he questioned as he stepped closer,
reaching out to touch her shoulders. “That’s definitely something to
celebrate…”

Lana tensed the moment she felt his hands. It wasn’t
necessarily that he was touching her—she’d been his secretary for almost seven
years, now. And when you worked closely with someone you were bound to
accidently touch.

But this wasn’t accidental.

This was more than a simple, nonchalant touch—this was a
caress. His fingertips grazed her bare arms, raising the hair on the back of
her neck. Lifting her head from the desk, she quickly glanced over her
shoulder. “I have to go. It’s late.” He must have sensed her discomfort,
because suddenly the unpleasant sensations of his fondling fingertips were
gone.

“You mean, you don’t have time for a celebratory
cocktail? C’mon, this is a big deal, Lana; we just dodged a bullet! Just one
drink”, he gestured with his finger.

“I’m sorry”, she uttered as she collected her belongings.
“I can’t. Randall’s watching Connor… He’s waiting for me.”

The mayor unclenched his jaw and shoved his hands in his
trouser pockets. He thought even less of Randall Burns than he had Jimmy
Phillips. The man was a hothead, a smartass, and a drunk. “Randall?—not sure
that was such a good idea, Lana.”

“Why do you say that?”

He shrugged, buying time while he carefully chose his
words. “He’s… ill-mannered. Is that really the kind of influence you want on
your son?”

Lana slid her other arm into her black blazer and then
ran her hands under the collar to free her long brown locks. “He’s been nothing
but kind to me and Connor over the years. And besides, I didn’t have much
choice considering the circumstances.”

Mayor Cliffburg opened his mouth to say something, but
quickly thought better of it. If he pushed she’d only get defensive, and if
there was one thing he did know, it was that Randall Burns didn’t deserve one
ounce of her blind devotion. “Fair enough. So about that celebratory drink…
Maybe some other time?”

“I don’t know. We’ll see.” Lana tossed her purse over her
shoulder and turned to go. She was several paces from the front entrance when
she heard his voice again.

“Good work tonight, Lana. As usual, you never cease to
amaze me…”

“Hey, I’m really sorry it took so long”, Lana spoke as
she carefully nudged the front door closed behind her.

Clicking the TV off, Randall rose from the couch and
shoved his hands knuckle-deep into the pockets of his denim jeans. “You get
everything straightened out at the office?”

“After spending hours on the phone on a wild-goose chase,
I managed to find a company in Atlanta with enough fireworks to get us by this
year.” She quickly glanced around the room, noting how uncharacteristically
quiet it was for eight-thirty in the evening. “Where’s Connor?”

“He fell asleep about twenty minutes ago watching
cartoons.”

“Really?” she asked incredulously as she lowered her
purse from her shoulder. She gently placed it on the entry table she’d
faux-finished earlier this month and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“That early?”

Randall nodded, scratching the back of his head. “He
helped me on the boat for a bit before we grabbed pizza. Think I wore the
little guy out.”

“You are just full of surprises”, she mumbled softly,
smiling. “Let me just check on him. I’ll be right back.”

Slowly pacing back and forth, Randall tried to convince
himself her praise meant nothing, that her angelic and genuine smile held no
significance.

But then he’d be lying. Because it had.

And somehow just knowing he’d been the one to ease her
weary mind tonight—that he’d been the person she’d turned to—created emotions
he’d long forgotten. A sense of warmth, along with something he couldn’t quite
name, quickly multiplied and unfurled deep in his chest. It was a feeling he
feared he’d become too fond of if he wasn’t careful.

“You were right. He’s exhausted—didn’t move a muscle when
I kissed him good night!”

Lucky kid
. Randall cleared his throat. “Anything else you need
before I go?”

Lana crossed her arms as she studied him from across the
room. “Yeah, you can have a drink with me. After the day I had, I could use
one.”

He wavered for a moment or two. It would probably be
better if he left; it’d taken every ounce of control he possessed not to act on
his feelings when she’d walked through the front door. He didn’t really
understand them, and it was
that
admission that scared him most.

His fascination with Lana had only intensified since the
night in his truck nearly a month ago. It seemed she’d gone from Jimmy’s sweet,
innocent wife to the beautiful woman starring in his graphically-erotic
fantasies almost overnight.

And that’s where she had to stay, because acting on them
would only complicate matters.

Being alone with Lana would only test his
resistance—something he knew would fail him when she looked at him like that:
her eyes pleading, her teeth nibbling on that plump bottom lip. Randall opened
his mouth to decline her invitation, except when the words materialized on his
tongue, he couldn’t seem to voice them. “Yeah, sure.”