“It will be my pleasure, Dane. And don’t worry, I’ll let Cal know about the change.”
“That’s great, Lyssa. I’ll let Westerbourne know you’ll be coming in my place. Before you go, however, you should know that he can be a hard case. He’s seen it all over the years, and he’s been cheated more than once, which has made him wary. Which means the story you told me isn’t going to work with him. But I trust that between you and Cal, you’ll pull it off.”
“Tell me everything about him. I’ll figure out what he needs to hear from us that will help him want to contribute to the foundation.” She’d never lie or make up stories. But she believed she could find a way to touch Mr. Westerbourne’s heart.
Then she’d face Cal with her news.
She had to get it done, and soon, even though she’d never be able to touch his heart.
Chapter Fourteen
The suite Dane had booked for Lyssa at his island resort in the Caribbean was sumptuous. The best part was the tub that overlooked an expanse of blue water. After the long flight, she soaked until her eyelids wouldn’t stay open anymore, then fell into bed and slept like the dead. When she woke in the morning, she felt fresh and ready to go.
She’d told Dane one little white lie—that she would call Cal about the change of plans. She hadn’t, deliberately, for one good reason: If Cal knew she was coming, he would surely find a reason to fly away before she could speak with him.
In the morning light, she appreciated just how stunning the resort truly was. Its immaculate grounds were landscaped with palm trees, lush flowering bushes, and bountiful native plants.
Dane sent a car for her, and she was glad to have someone else do the driving. The road to Westerbourne’s estate was narrow and winding, leading high up a mountain she guessed had once been a volcano. The jungle was lush, often hanging over the road like an arbor.
With every mile, her heart beat faster, and she worked to slow it down. No matter how Cal reacted, everything would be okay.
That was her current mantra: No matter how Cal reacts, everything will be okay.
She’d said it to herself enough times that she almost believed it, she thought with a small smile.
Thank God she was still able to laugh at herself—and her predicament. Laughter, her mother had always told her, was a brilliant way to be strong in the face of adversity. Lyssa was seeing the truth of her mother’s wisdom for herself.
Her driver took them through a massive wrought-iron gate that slid open as they approached, and knowing it would help quell her nerves, she asked to be dropped off at the base of the garden so that she could walk up to the house.
She instantly lost all track of time. How could she not when she was surrounded by a tropical landscape far more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen in a botanical garden’s hothouse? For several minutes, she meandered down one path and then another, before she finally headed toward the driveway, which was lined with ferns in all shades of green. The house was colossal, even by Maverick standards, with marble steps flanked by stone lions. The butler opened the door before she even knocked.
In a cultured tone much like Dane’s butler, Fernsby, in London, he said, “Welcome. It will be my pleasure to announce your arrival, Miss Spencer.”
She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, preparing herself to be at her very best. It was showtime. For the foundation…and her future.
* * *
“Your associate has arrived, Mr. Danniger,” the butler announced from the doorway. “Mr. Westerbourne, may I present Miss Lyssa Spencer.”
Cal, who had arrived only minutes earlier, was stunned speechless. He stood while Lyssa held out her hand to the wizened man in the wheelchair.
“You’re late,” was the decidedly gruff welcome.
“I’m so sorry. I’m afraid I couldn’t resist the lure of your garden.” Her eyes sparkled. “It’s magnificent.”
The age lines on the man’s face softened slightly as he took in her words. “You should have left your hotel earlier, in that case, so that you could have some time in the garden and still be on time for our meeting.” Then he relented a bit. “I chose all of the plants myself.”
Her eyes widened. “Of course you did. Only someone who loves where they live could pick the perfect plants for the perfect garden.”
“Now you’re just trying to butter me up.”
She laughed. “Believe me, you’d know if I was trying to butter you up. My mother always says she can see right through me.” She held out her arms. “What you see is what you get.”
At last—miraculously—Westerbourne cracked the hint of a smile. “Well, in that case, you might as well come in, since you’re already here. But kick off your shoes first. You’ve got dirt on them.”