Call To Redemption. Tawny Weber
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Darby had learned young to ignore what people said. As always, she’d aimed her focus on work. On finding the quickest climb up the ladder her father had chosen for her when she was ten. And nowhere on that ladder was there room for vacations. Work, education, networking. That was her focus. Her only focus.
She’d have happily continued her vacationless lifestyle if Grace hadn’t ferreted out that the HR exec was reluctant to recommend Darby for the new position. The woman was a stickler for that wimpy work-life balance she was always lecturing Darby on.
“I’ll make the entire eight days,” Darby vowed in answer to Grace’s comment about the office pool. Not just for the shot at the promotion, but because she was hardwired to prove that she could do whatever anyone said she couldn’t.
“I have every faith that you will. But do it right, okay? Treat it like a vacation, not a point of pride. Prove that you can have a life outside of work.”
“My career is my life,” she said with a sassy smile. But her sass turned into a sigh as soon as the words were out.
That catchphrase had been her personal mantra since graduating law school. A mantra she loved epitomizing because it made her feel powerful, and dammit, kept her on the fast track to success.
A mantra that had, quite recently, been thrown in her face along with a whole lot of other accusations that were probably just as true.
“Don’t start doubting yourself,” Grace responded, obviously reading her mind. The mothering tone came over the line like a finger shake with a hug on the side.
“Why would I doubt myself?”
Just because the guy she’d dated for eight months had accused her of caring about nothing except her career, to say nothing of being coldhearted, narrow-minded and obsessive.
“Exactly. Why would you?” Grace responded. “You’re a powerhouse. Darby Raye, Assistant US Attorney. Powerhouse federal prosecutor. Ballbuster, crime fighter, law wielder. You take no crap from anyone on your fast flight up the ladder of success. If a guy can’t handle that, too bad.”
“Exactly,” Darby agreed with a laugh. And she did agree. She’d never made a secret of her ambitions or her priorities.
But maybe Paul had had a few points. It’d been her obsessive focus on her career that had kept her from noticing the telltale warning signs that he saw their relationship as something much more serious than she did.
Darby had dated the man for almost four months while she was still living in Virginia. The JAG attorney had thought it was romantic to transfer from Little Creek to the San Diego naval base. She, on the other hand, thought it was creepy.
But knowing the value of well-placed bridges, influential circles and tiptoeing around fragile male egos, it’d taken her three months of letting him down gently to break it off.
And another one to convince him that it was actually over.
She should have skipped worrying about bridges and circles and tramped his damn ego as soon as he’d shown up on her doorstep in San Diego, Darby thought with a grimace.
Still, she had considered Paul Thomas a convenience. The guy had looked good on her arm, could handle the schmoozing through the social events she saw as a necessary component of a successful climb up the career ladder. His own commitments as a lawyer in the Navy Judge Advocate General’s office meant he was as busy as her, meaning he wasn’t around much. He was an entertaining dinner date, an undemanding sex partner and an interesting conversationalist.
And that relationship had given Darby the comforting, if false, belief that her life was well-rounded enough to not worry about eighty-hour work weeks and no interests outside of her career.
Now look what happened, she thought as she maneuvered the twisting, shell-encrusted steps.
The guy got emotionally grabby and demanding, she dumped him and here she was, stuck on a gorgeous island paradise, forced to prove she was well-rounded and obsession-free.
“This sucks,” Darby muttered, unconsciously pausing halfway down the stairs to stare out at the bleeding colors of the sun as it dripped into the ocean.
“This vacation is vital for your well-being,” Grace insisted with a sniff. “Weren’t you listening during that safety lecture last month on the necessity of a good work-life balance to avoid health issues and burnout?”
“I must have been in court that day.”
“You’re always in court on lecture days.”
“Funny how that works out,” Darby observed with a laugh as she continued down. “Have I mentioned how much I appreciate you putting those safety lectures on my calendar?”
“Things like that are the reason why you need this break.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with myself on this break?” Darby blurted out. Even as the words escaped, she wanted them back. She hated admitting that she didn’t know what to do, no matter what the situation. But since the confession was out there, she might as well score some advice. “Work relaxes me, Grace. Reading case law makes me happy. Climbing the ladder of success is my idea of staying healthy. Now I’m stuck here on a spit of sand, surrounded by water and strangers. No cases to argue, no work to do, not even a single law book to read.”
“Read the resort’s brochure. Avail yourself of all of those inclusive amenities. Do all the things you don’t normally do. Sleep late, indulge, sightsee. Lie on the beach, read a steamy romance novel, be friendly with strangers.”
Grace sighed at Darby’s grunt.
“You’re at an exclusive resort on one of the prettiest islands in the world,” the woman decreed, her frown coming over the phone line loud and clear. “If those brochures Jenkins shared are anything to go by, there’s a lot to do there. And keep in mind that since you took her recommendation on where to vacation, she’s very likely to ask you questions about your trip when you get back.”
“Like a pop quiz,” Darby muttered.
“The quiz is coming no matter what you do. So why not have a little fun. Let loose. Get wild.” Grace’s voice lowered, her words husky with laughter. “Have a vacation fling.”
“A man is what got me into this situation,” Darby pointed out as she continued her descent to the lanai. A man who’d accused her of being so uptight and controlling that she was incapable of handling a relationship of any kind.
“One of the reasons you’re on vacation is to forget about that loser, Paul. So start forgetting and start relaxing. Otherwise I’ll be forced to take steps,” Grace warned.
“Are you threatening an officer of the court?” Darby asked with a laugh.
“If that’s what it takes, sure.”
“Fine. I promise. By the time I get back in the office, I’ll be so relaxed you won’t recognize me.”
“Will it include a hot guy and orgasm options?”
“You think about sex too much,” Darby said dismissively.
“You never think about it because it doesn’t exist in your world. How long has it been?”
Since she’d had sex? Nine months, nineteen days and—Darby glanced at her watch and calculated the time difference—eight hours.
Since she’d had good sex? Tack on another three years to that tally.
Not that she was counting.
“A man isn’t necessary for happiness or success,” she pointed out instead of answering.
“You’re young, gorgeous and single,” Grace argued. “If you don’t get some soon, people are going to start giving weight to Paul Thomas’s whining.”
“Okay. That’s a valid counterargument.”
Darby