Читать книгу A Bachelor At The Wedding - Kate Little - Страница 8

Matt turned the key and let himself in his front door. A penthouse suite atop the hotel, the luxury apartment was a laughably short commute.

He strolled across the onyx floor of the foyer and into the sweeping living room. He kicked off his shoes, slipped off his suit jacket and yanked off his tie. Then he fixed himself a drink, the usual, bourbon with a splash of soda. Already past seven, he noticed. Not much time left to get ready for his date. The buff-colored leather couch, covered with large suede and Kilim tapestry pillows, looked tempting and he longed to sit back and put his feet up. But Jenna would read him the riot act if he was late. She had pull at the trendiest restaurants and hated to miss out on a good table. A table where she could see all and be seen by all.

At times, she seemed to have no greater joy in life than finding her blurry photograph in the gossip pages of the morning newspaper. Not his style at all, though so far, he humored her. He’d never courted publicity and actively avoided it. Though the paparazzi always seemed to find him a worthy subject, he couldn’t quite understand the fascination. Especially when the gossip columnists put out some absurd story about his private life. But as Jenna often reminded him, any publicity was good publicity. He wasn’t so sure about that theory, but never bothered to argue with her.

He took a bolstering swallow of his bourbon and headed for the bedroom, a large master suite. Jenna was not the deepest, most sensitive person he had ever met—but she was very good in bed. Hey, a guy can’t expect a woman to be perfect.

Unfortunately, the concept of female perfection brought to mind one woman and one alone…Stephanie Rossi. He stripped off his shirt and trousers, wondering what Stephanie was like in bed. She always seemed so quiet and controlled. Yet he had long suspected that was an act, mostly for his benefit—a “persona” she donned for the office.

For one thing, there was her sense of humor. Surprisingly sharp and even zany at times. And he’d always found you could tell a lot about a woman by watching her eat. One morning he’d spied Stephanie having breakfast at her desk, a sticky cinnamon roll and a frothy cappuccino. The way she had delicately devoured the pastry, her eyes half closed as she licked the tip of one finger, her tongue darting out, skimming the trace of sugary icing….

He felt a lump forming in his throat—and other places on his anatomy—just thinking about it. She was a deeply sensual woman—no question about it. Secretly sensual perhaps. But that would make it all the more delightful to unveil her hidden, erotic side. Yes, a man would be very lucky indeed to be granted that special privilege.

Unlike Jenna, who flaunted her sexuality so boldly he’d become numb to it. Ah, well. Like the song goes, you can’t always get what you want.

He strolled across the bedroom in his briefs, not even bothering to glance at his image in the large mirror that hung on the opposite wall. For all his good looks and the admiring glances he constantly received, he was not a vain man. His tall, wide-shouldered frame was lean and fit, with well-developed muscles in his long legs, chest and arms. His chest was covered with a mat of dark brown hair, tapering down his flat, sculpted stomach. He liked to keep fit and needed to be in top shape just to keep up with his demanding lifestyle. He worked out regularly in the hotel’s fully equipped health club, and swam laps in the Olympic-size pool. Living across the street from Central Park made it easier to take an early-morning jog, or even go cycling.

Like many men approaching forty, Matt found it wasn’t quite as easy to finish those fifty sit-ups, or sprint that last mile. He sometimes worried about going “soft” all over. Yet the truth of the matter was, he didn’t have much to worry about. The women in his life never had any complaints.

As Matt pulled a dark-plum bath sheet from the linen closet, he noticed the light flashing on the phone machine, which sat on a writing desk in the corner of the bedroom. He walked over and pressed the answer button. Jenna’s high-pitched voice greeted him. She tended to squeal when excited and he turned the volume down.

“Hey, Matt. It’s me. I was really looking forward to seeing you, sweetie. But something has come up at work and I’m leaving tonight for—guess where?—the French countryside. Top secret emergency, sweetie, so don’t tell a soul. Guess what? Brian and Melanie are getting married—” Matt frowned. He didn’t know any Brian, or Melanie. Then he realized Jenna was talking about two famous actors who were always on the cover of the supermarket tabloids. Brian Bigelow and Melanie Marsh? Something like that.

Jenna, the celebrity authority, often referred to total strangers on a first-name basis, a habit he found annoying.

Jenna’s voice rattled on, and he listened with half an ear. He already knew the punch line. He’d been stood up for Brian and Melanie. For some reason, instead of feeling let down, he felt strangely…relieved.

“…so our sources heard the wedding was not going to be in Palm Springs or at Brian’s ranch in Montana. I mean, I knew that was a spin all along. Then I found out the real location. Brian’s stepmother’s chateau. She’s practically British royalty, you know. Lady Gainsworth…or Gainsworthy? I’m not sure…. Anyway, her personal secretary’s sister-in-law goes to the same day spa as I do. So she was getting a body wax in the booth right next to me and I heard everything. Lucky, right?”

How long was his message tape, Matt wondered. Didn’t it have an automatic cutoff at some point?

“Sorry, sweetie, but this really is the story of the year. I can’t miss out. Anyway, kisses and kisses, Matt sweetheart—” Matt heard some juicy kissing sounds and winced a bit. “I’ll make it up to you next week. Promise,” Jenna added with a sexy laugh.

A long, electronic beep signaled the end of her seemingly endless message. Well, so much for his hot date. He pressed the rewind button on the machine and headed for the shower.

Maybe Jenna breaking this date was in fact, a good thing.

This relationship wasn’t going anywhere and it was time he faced it. When she came back, he’d take her out to dinner and have the usual talk. “It’s not you, it’s me…” etcetera and so on. He knew his lines by heart by now. She’d probably be angry. Maybe even throw a drink at him. Some women did. He’d send her flowers, maybe a nice piece of jewelry?

Was there something wrong with him? Why was he so hard to please? Why couldn’t he find a woman who didn’t drive him crazy, or just plain bore him to tears?

Matt turned on the shower, adjusted the water to the steaming-hot temperature he preferred, then stepped into the black-marble and glass enclosure. For years, he’d been focused on building his business. Working hard and playing hard. He loved the company of charming, attractive women and was rarely without a gorgeous one in his life. But relationships—real relationships—were never a priority to him. Women seem to come and go, the next one always more enticing than the last.

As a young man, his motto had always been, “So many women, so little time.” But now it seemed more as if time was running out, and while he’d enjoyed the company of many, he still hadn’t found that special one in the world, the woman that was made just for him. Did she really exist? Would he ever find her?

Once upon a time, he’d been an optimist about such matters. A real romantic. But that had all changed back in college, when his first love left him for another man. She’d not only broken his heart, but had also made off with his inheritance, the seed money for his business. With the help of banks and investors, he’d managed to succeed anyway. Eventually, he’d realized that his ex-wife had robbed him of something even more valuable than money—the courage to reach out and love again.

Now it felt as if he was forever trapped in a hopeless loop of meaningless romances, with trophy dates like Jenna. Finally, just like tonight, he always found himself alone.

He briskly toweled off, then dressed in jeans and a black V-neck pullover. He combed his thick wet hair straight back and didn’t even think about shaving. Maybe I’ll grow a beard this weekend, he thought as he walked barefoot back into the living room.

He freshened his drink, then flicked on the evening news. The flashing images captured only a fraction of his attention. He was weary and the weekend seemed to stretch out endlessly—echoing with loneliness.

He’d take out his phone book and call someone. There were plenty of names to choose from. He could find a date for tonight, even at such short notice, he consoled himself. He and Jenna didn’t really have an exclusive relationship. He considered this solution, then realized there wasn’t any other woman he really wanted to see.

Well, there was one. But she was off-limits to him.

He took a gulp of his drink, the ice tinkling against the crystal glass. He’d drive out to his country house and spend the weekend at the beach. Being near the ocean always soothed his nerves and energized him. He’d spend the weekend. Maybe he’d meet somebody new out there, at the shore. Or in a club.

Is that what Stephanie would be doing this weekend? Not spending time with a boyfriend, he knew now. That was some relief. But maybe going out with girlfriends to singles clubs, or on blind dates, trying to find a new boyfriend?

He sighed and shifted restlessly in his seat. Why torture yourself? She’s clearly and totally off limits. Is that the fascination here? The kind of woman you need is running off to the French countryside to mingle with celebrities. Not hopping a subway to Brooklyn to babysit.

He glanced around the stylishly decorated, perfectly neat apartment. It suddenly felt so sterile…so oppressive. He had to get out of here. He snapped off the TV with the remote and dropped his glass on the marble coffee table.

Back in the bedroom, he started to pack a bag. The phone rang and he paused. Jenna again? Maybe her plans changed and she was free.

He made no move to pick it up. He didn’t want to see her tonight after all. The machine answered on the third ring and he listened closely.

“Mr. Harding? I’m sorry to bother you. I’m not even sure if you’re there…but a problem has come up that you should know about….”

Stephanie. He leaped toward the writing desk and scooped up the receiver.

“Yes, Stephanie. I’m here. What is it?”

Some glitch with the banquet. She needed his help. He’d run down and smooth it out. Then maybe they’d have dinner together….

“It’s Blue Water Cay. Ben Drury, the general manager just called. Talks just broke off with the unions. All the local employees just walked off the job—”

“What!?” Matt jumped up from his seat at the desk.

Blue Water Cay was the newest Harding property, a luxury resort and spa set on a tiny island off Florida’s southwest coast. The resort had opened just weeks ago. There were always kinks to work out at a new hotel. He knew the unions were acting up, asking for changes on the contract they’d only just signed. He had a team of mediators and lawyers on it.

But a complete walk-off of all employees? That was a total disaster.

“It was hard to get all the details. You should probably speak to Mr. Drury directly. He’s waiting for your call.”

“Of course. Do you have his number handy?” Matt grabbed a pen and paper and jotted down the number Stephanie recited.

“Thanks. Don’t leave the hotel until you hear from me,” he added. “I may need you tonight.”

Stephanie promised to wait for his call. She said goodbye and hung up.

Matt quickly dialed the general manager of Blue Water Cay Resort. The phone rang once and Ben’s voice came on the line.

“What the hell is going on down there?” Matt began the conversation without bothering with a greeting. “My assistant says you just had a full-scale walkout.”

Ben confirmed the bad news and went on to explain the problem in detail. Beneath his calm tone, Matt could sense that the newly promoted general manager was indeed, in a panic.

Understandably. It was a mess few hoteliers would ever have to face. Yet Matt was still angry that the situation had gone so far out of control before anyone had called him.

“The worst news is the union reps have walked out of their meetings with our representatives. Unfortunately, guests are starting to walk out, too.”

Just what he didn’t want to hear. An incident like this could tarnish the new hotel’s reputation for years to come. Matt simply couldn’t let this happen.

“Enough said. I’ve got the picture.” Matt considered reading Ben Drury the riot act. Then realized that would only waste time. Once he reached the hotel, he’d have plenty of opportunity to reprimand his top executive.

“Hold tight. I’ll be there in a few hours.” Matt glanced at his watch. “I’ll call from Miami. Send a car to the airport.”

The trip to the island from New York required a flight to Miami and then a puddle jumper, a small twin-engine plane that made quick runs to the islands.

“Sure thing. It might be hard to catch a shuttle tonight, though. You may have to wait until morning,” Ben advised in a nervous tone.

“I’ll be there tonight. One way or another,” Matt promised him.

Sounding like a man about to face the guillotine, Drury said goodbye quickly and hung up.

And with good reason. There was a major mess to be cleaned up, and he was the only one able to do it.

Along with Stephanie Rossi, he silently added.

The thought struck like an inspiration. He couldn’t think of anyone at this moment more able to help him. He was sure of it. She had to come. He’d make her come. He wouldn’t give her any choice.

You just want to see her in a bathing suit, his chiding voice cut in.

That’s not it at all. I need help down there. I can’t do it all on my own. She’s terrific at handling disgruntled guests, figuring out staffing, everything that needs to be covered to run a hotel.

Okay…I would love to see her in a bathing suit. With one of those matching sarong things floating around her hips, he mused.

But that’s totally beside the point!

Packing his bag with one hand, he dialed Stephanie with the other and then tucked the phone between his shoulder and cheek.

“I just spoke to Drury. It’s a disaster. I’m going down there right away.”

“Oh…that’s too bad,” Stephanie murmured in agreement. He could hear the banquet in the background. The clatter of plates and the murmur of the partying journalists.

“Who’s at the concierge desk tonight?”

“Max,” Stephanie replied.

“Have him book two seats on the next flight to Miami. If he can’t find a connection to the Cay tonight, have him hire a private plane. Something small. Then meet me in the lobby in fifteen minutes. I need you to come along. Got that?”

He waited for her reply, hearing only silence. He imagined the shocked look on her lovely face.

“I’m sorry…it’s a little noisy in here. Did you say you want me to come to Blue Water Cay?”

“That’s what I said. You’re my assistant, aren’t you?” he reminded her. “Isn’t an assistant expected to assist with emergencies?”

He felt a twinge of conscience at his gruff sarcasm.

He wasn’t really annoyed, just trying to strong-arm her into a quick agreement. If she didn’t fear her job was on the line, he reasoned, she might make some excuse not to go.

“Why…yes. I mean, of course. I just didn’t expect…” Stephanie paused and took a deep breath. “I don’t have any clothes. Or even a toothbrush. Maybe I should run up to my apartment and pack a bag.”

“Sorry. No time. You can buy a toothbrush and whatever you need at the resort. Just put it on an expense account. Any other questions?”

“Uh…no. Okay,” she said finally. “I’ll see you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.”

He hung up the phone and rubbed his face with his hands. Suddenly, he wondered if taking Stephanie Rossi with him was such a great idea after all.

“Whisked away! To a tropical paradise!”

That’s what Nana Bella’s reaction had been. Nana was the only family Stephanie had been able to reach while she waited in the lobby for her boss to appear. She knew they’d be looking for her over the weekend, maybe even call the police when she didn’t answer her phone messages. It was wiser by far simply to tell someone what was happening.

But her grandmother, bless her soul, hadn’t understood at all that this was hardly a pleasure trip and that her impossible boss probably expected her to body-block an entire herd of stampeding guests heading for the checkout desk. Among other impossible feats.

Nana didn’t get any of that. When she heard the news, she shouted, “Whoopee! You’re being whisked away to a tropical island! Just like Desiree and Chad….”

Desiree and Chad were Nana’s favorite characters from her favorite soap opera Tempest Rock. Since Nana’s world beyond the Rossi household was limited, the soap had become her primary point of reference and she often confused the events on Tempest Rock with real life.

“This is just business, Nana. A real emergency,” Stephanie explained.

The most miserable forty-eight hours of her life, most likely. Stephanie considered cooking up some last-minute excuse. Could she suddenly remember some crucial doctor’s appointment? Or some family crisis?

He’ll never believe me, she thought.

The moment to wriggle out of this invitation had passed. He hadn’t even given her a moment. She felt as if a gun had been held to her head, the unspoken threat being, “Come along…or else.”

“Believe me, I’m not being…whisked in any way, Nana. Hijacked is more like it.”

“I’ve seen pictures of your boss, sweetheart. I’d let that guy whisk me—or hijack me, even—in a heartbeat….”

“Nana…don’t be silly.” Stephanie felt her cheeks flush. Nana had a point. A fairly irrefutable one.

Stephanie felt someone standing beside her and looked up to find Matt. She wondered how long he’d been standing there. How much he’d overheard.

“So long, Nana. I’ve got to run—”

“Have a good trip, sweetheart. I’m going to light a candle for you!” Nana called happily after her.

Stephanie said goodbye again, clicked off her phone and stashed it in her purse.

“Checking in with your family?” His tone was bland but a faint light of amusement danced in his dark eyes.

“I needed to call in case anyone was looking for me.”

“Very thoughtful…and don’t worry about Sunday dinner. I’ll write you a note.”

She felt annoyed at his teasing for a moment. But his warm smile quickly melted her anger. Practically melted her bones, she realized. She found it hard enough to deal with him when he was being bossy and demanding. When he got all up close and personal like this, it was truly a challenge.

That’s the last time I’ll tell him anything about my real life, she vowed.

“I’ve got the e-tickets from Max. The flight leaves in about an hour and half, which should give us plenty of time. The car is out front, waiting,” she recited efficiently.

“Good work.” He smiled again, making her heart skip a beat. She’d never seen him dressed before in casual clothes. His worn denim jeans hung low on his hips, draping his long legs like an advertisement for male sex appeal. A soft black pullover, with the sleeves pushed up his forearms, molded his physique, emphasizing wide shoulders, a hard chest and washboard abs. He wore it without a T-shirt underneath and the high V-neck tantalized with a hint of dark chest hair.

He bent to pick up his duffel bag and she remembered again that she was traveling light. Frighteningly light.

What kind of clothes would she find at a resort shop on a tropical island—batik wrap skirts and tie-dyed bikinis?

Well, one disaster at a time, she coached herself.