Trophy Wives by Jan Colley Page B

workforce is well-supported. Do you know, one in ten people have a learning difficulty?”
    Lucy grinned. “We’re sneaking around all over the place.”
    Ethan guessed she was so accustomed to sweeping her problems under the carpet, she probably did not even notice she was being flippant. He pushed the brochures toward her. He was a patient man.
    â€œTell me about your plans for Summerhill.”
    â€œIdeas, not plans,” she corrected him. “Plans have to be written down.”
    â€œOkay.” He took a small notebook and pen from his jacket’s inside pocket. “You tell me the ideas, I write them down and get my secretary to type them up.” He looked at her, his pen poised over the notebook.
    Lucy gulped. “That’s nice of you, but they’re not ready to be drawn up into a business plan. They’re just some thoughts…”
    â€œWhat thoughts, Lucy?”
    She wiped her mouth and hands and picked up the remnants of the cooling food, dumping it onto the ground a few feet away. With enough racket to wake the dead, the seagulls closed in and Lucy dropped the empty paper into a bin close by.
    She sat back down hesitantly, obviously afraid he would laugh at her ideas. He convinced her otherwise.
    She had some great ideas, and he told her so. Courtesy vans for the village restaurants. Targeted advertising to golf clubs because of the world class Terrace Downs golf course that had been completed nearby recently. A health and beauty spa for the guests, including massage, hair salon, facials and a gym. Using Summerhill as a conference and function center. Tom could still have his hunting safaris but they could also offer weddings, whodunit nights, workshops…the list was endless.
    Ethan was impressed. He wrote everything down, cautioning against one or two things, just from a financial perspective. But most of her ideas were very viable, relevant to her market, and wouldn’t cost too much in initial outlay.
    â€œAnd then I could spend some time on the farm. Tom doesn’t have time these days—he’s more interested in the lodge. Since the farm manager quit, things have gotten out of hand. I’d love to see it back to full production.”
    Ethan had noticed the farm’s neglect on his rides. It was very understocked, the pastures in poor condition.
    They talked till the wind rose and chased the sun and the children away. Lucy lapped up his praise of her ideas as if she had never received a compliment in all her life.
    â€œYou are as sharp as a tack, Lucy,” he told her, “and don’t you let anyone tell you any different.”
    She glowed, a stranger to approbation. A late bloomer, and it occurred to him he’d like to nurture that and watch it grow. Without her brother pushing her down all the time, there were no limits to what she could achieve with a little encouragement.
    And then he remembered Turtle Island. If MagnaCorp successfully negotiated the deal, there would be no way he could spare the time to enjoy watching her grow.
    How far was New Zealand from the islands, anyway?
    Lucy uncapped a bottle of water and drank deeply, bending her head back and exposing the milky skin of her throat. A substantial urge to kiss her steamrolled him so completely, he held his breath for an age, worried there wouldn’t be another. She was so fresh, with a natural, almost childlike beauty. Her eyes showed every emotion.
    She brought the bottle away and licked her lips, then raised her eyes to his. Ethan was a second or two behind, his eyes still devouring the sight of the tip of her pink tongue slipping between her lips and trapping a bead of moisture at one corner. He mimicked her, an involuntary action, his own tongue darting out and touching his mouth. This close, he could see traces of the beige-pink-tinted lip gloss she applied regularly.
    He saw his thoughts, his desire leap in her eyes. Some magnetic force seemed to drag them