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Lori Copeland is a bestselling author whose books includde Now and Always, Simple Gifts, Unwrapping Christmas, and Monday Morning Faith, which was a finalist for the 2007 Christy Awards. Lori was inducted into the Springfield Writers Hall of Fame in 2000 and lives in the beautiful Ozarks with her husband and family.

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stranded in paradise

WestBow Press

Chapter One

"Boy, Kim, this weather is nutty, isn't it? Where's the snow?"

"Rocky, I don't know," the female disk jockey deadpanned. "We don't have to worry about hurricanes here in Denver land: I WANT SNOW!"

Tess Nelson signaled, then switched lanes on the busy interstate. The Acura surged ahead, passing a slower-moving vehicle before shooting back to the right lane. The digital clock turned to 8:56 AM.

The disk jockeys kept up their banter. "Imagine a summer thunderstorm, a dark, hulking brute towering over ten turbulent miles into the heavens-black, rolling clouds spewing blinding rain, hailstones, and lightning. Then picture a line of these monsters seventy-five miles long, standing shoulder to shoulder," Rocky said of an approaching storm in the South Pacific. "Take that line and wrap it around into a circle 230 miles across and spin it counterclockwise at 140 miles an hour and you're in the eye of a hurricane. ... Must be something to experience ..." She frowned at the radio, as she wondered how long it took for those storms to fizzle out. She had a business trip planned for the following week in Hawaii, and the last thing she needed was some tropical depression to foul up her plans.

The Acura wheeled into the underground parking garage. Tires and power steering screeched as she ascended from the first floor to the second level. She turned into spot seven, shut off the engine, and looked at the clock. 8:57-oops. 8:58. On time.

Her newest twenty-something temp was waiting when the elevator doors opened to the fourteenth floor. "Suit wants to see you in his office." Judy chewed gum and pointed an acrylic-nailed, three-ringed finger toward the executive suite one floor up.

"I need to drop these things off in my office and get a cup of coffee-"

"No time, kiddo. The Man says now. Mucho pronto." The temp blew a bubble and popped it back into her mouth in one swift move.

Tess shifted the armload of folders, sunglasses, briefcase, and purse, then pilfered a notepad and pen from her secretary's desk. "Please spit out your gum." She pointed to the wastebasket.

"Yes, ma'am."

Ma'am? Tess flinched. She had to speak to Nick in personnel about the help he was sending her lately. The last one had taken breaks every hour to do her yoga stretches right there on the office floor. She didn't know how long she could deal with the endless array of teenyboppers behind the desk.

Stepping into the elevator, she punched floor thirty-seven and tapped the pen against the notepad as she watched the numbers change above the elevator's doors. To hear Len refer to the executive office as "his office" sounded strange. He'd taken over as chief executive officer of Connor.com upon the sudden death of his father, Dave Connor, the man who had started the company five years earlier. While dot com companies had been rising fast in the late nineties, Dave Connor had moved with caution, investing back into the business instead of buying new equipment and hiring employees he wouldn't be able to keep for the long haul. He was a man of vision. But Dave hadn't planned on dying at the age of sixty-one of a heart attack.

Dot com companies sell service, not a product, and Dave had built a strong, self-sustaining business because he cared about his customers. Connor.com allowed clients to place bids on large-ticket or small-ticket items online. If they wished, they could even do a closed bid.

Under Dave's management, changes were constantly made to meet a client's needs. Most of the schools in this area used Connor.com to order supplies like hand soap, detergent, grease-breaker soap, and soap for mopping kitchen floors, tile floors, and hardwood floors. One catalog they maintained listed over twenty thousand different soap items.

A company of this size needed a lot of people: a chief executive officer, chief financial officer, chief operations officer, chief technical officer, plus middle management people and a ton of technical geeks. Not everyone could manage a company this size the way Dave had done. She hoped Len was up to it.

Tess had met Dave at a Chamber of Commerce mixer five and a half years ago. He was a kind man who had treated her like a daughter almost from the time they met. When he had asked her to join his company a few months later, she'd jumped at the opportunity.

The job was a human resource manager's dream, with a lot of potential for advancement. She was ready for the challenges. For the past two years Dave had been grooming her to take the position of vice president of human resources, second in command of Connor.com.

Apparently, this morning Len was ready to announce that he was moving her into the job. She knew she was ready to steer the company through the turbulent waters of mergers and acquisitions, setting up profit sharing and a 401(k) program that would attract experienced and loyal employees. This was the crowning achievement of all her hard work.

As she reached Len's office, his secretary, Nancy, was coming out. "Hello," Tess chirped.

"Go on in," Nancy murmured, refusing to meet her eye. Odd. Nancy Silva was one of the friendliest people Tess knew. From the look on Nancy's face she wondered if something awful had happened to her.

"Thanks," Tess said as Nancy turned her back.

She opened the door. Len had made few changes to Dave's office. When she entered the world of mahogany and Prussian blue she found Len leaning back in Dave's chair, phone to his ear, staring out the big window behind the large desk that had been his father's for over twenty years. Len had that familiar pose, forefinger tapping the back of the phone as he spoke, as if prompting whoever was on the other end to hurry it up. His sandy hair fell against his forehead in that boyish way he had. Tess felt her back stiffen as the old feelings tried to wedge their way back in. Yes, Len had his charms, she told herself, but there was a selfish side to the man.

"See you the first of the week," Len said into the receiver, then hung up the phone and swung around. "Ah, Tess."

She smiled, reminding herself of what this meeting was no doubt about. "Ah, Len." She'd waited a long time for this moment, put in many a long day and given up countless weekends to make deadlines.

She sobered when he didn't return her smile, and uneasiness grew in the pit of her stomach. His life had changed tremendously when Dave died, she reasoned, he was just having a hard day.

She could be of invaluable help now that Dave was gone, of course, and she would. She knew the ins and outs of the company better than anyone, Len included. "Have a seat," Len invited.

She sank into one of the familiar leather chairs where she'd spent many an evening after five sitting, talking business, and laughing over Dave's corny jokes. She wondered briefly if she and Len would have the same kind of relaxed, creative relationship after working hours. Maybe the man could change. She looked up into his eyes.

"You know the dot com business is a little bizarre right now, with so many companies folding," Len said quickly as he raked a hand through his blond hair.

"Yes ..." Tess replied uncertainly, wondering where he was headed. Was Len thinking of merging with another company? Connor.com was financially stable, but right now wasn't the best time-

...