Читать книгу Millionaire: Needed for One Month: Thirty Day Affair - Maureen Child, Christie Ridgway - Страница 15

An hour later, Nathan rolled out of bed, his body replete, his mind racing. He glanced at Keira languidly stretching on the mattress and had to fight down an urge to lay back down and gather her up close. And because that thought was uppermost in his brain, he took a step or two away from the bed just for good measure.

“Now,” she said, sweeping her hair up to lay across the pillow like a red-gold banner, “wasn't that more fun than planning schedules?”

He grabbed his robe from the end of the bed, slipped it on, then stood up to look down at her. “If we spend the next few days like this,” he said with a smile he couldn't quite prevent curving his mouth, “by the time the storm ends, we'll be dead.”

“I can think of worse ways to go.”

So could he. That was one of his problems. Always before, Nathan's relationships with women had been uncomplicated and straightforward. Before he took a woman to bed, he made sure she felt as he did about affairs—that they should be undemanding, easily slipped in and out of, with no hard feelings, no promises made, so no promises broken.

Ordinarily, he never would have become involved with a woman like Keira. She had “complications” written all over her. And yet, at this moment, he couldn't really bring himself to regret what he'd found with her.

Regrets would come later. Once he was gone and safely wrapped up in his normal world. Once he was far enough away from her eyes that they didn't haunt him every damn minute.

“You're an unusual woman.”

She sat up, completely comfortable with her own nudity, and swung her hair back from her face. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome,” he said, his gaze dipping to the swell of her breasts, then back to her fathomless green eyes. She was tempting. More tempting than anyone he'd ever known before. He was walking through unfamiliar territory here and he felt as though he were trying to negotiate his way through quicksand.

What he needed was a little space. A little time to himself to gather his defenses and shore up the inner walls she seemed so determine to shatter.

Decision made, he said, “I'm going downstairs to get some work done.”

She looked at him for a long second or two, shook her head, then flopped back onto the bed, dragged the quilt up to cover herself and muttered, “Of course you are.”

A few hours later, Nathan was hunched determinedly over his computer, doing an excellent job of pretending Keira wasn't in the room.

Tossing the book she'd been trying to read for the last half hour onto the sofa cushion beside her, she frowned at the back of his head and said pointedly, “What're you doing?”

“Working.”

“Again, you mean. Well, I can see that, Mr. Chatty. Working on what? Still trying to find a way to schedule spontaneity?”

“No.” He shook his head, turned back to the computer and typed something else.

“Then what?”

“You're not going to give me any peace at all, are you?”

“Probably not,” she said.

“Fine.” He leaned back into the couch, winced and retrieved the book she'd dropped out from behind his back and set it on the coffee table. When he was settled again, he glanced at her and said, “I'm making some notes on how to confront the manager of the Gstaad Barrister.”

“Switzerland,” she said with a sigh. Then she asked, “Confront? About what?”

“I gave him specific instructions last time on how I wanted him to deal with the housekeeping staff, and they haven't been implemented.”

“Why not?”

He looked at her. “How the hell do I know?”

She curled her legs up under her, propped her elbow on the back of the sofa and leaned in. “What's wrong with the way he's handling things, then?”

Nathan sighed. “He's very … relaxed in his position. He allows the employees too much leeway in their work.”

“Does it all get done?”

“Yes, but—”

“So maybe,” Keira said, “he knows his people better than you do?”

“Maybe, but—”

She smiled. “So if you weren't stomping around bellowing orders like a bully, maybe you'd get more cooperation out of him?”

“I do not bellow,” Nathan said and sat up straight.

“But you do bully.”

He blew out a disgusted breath. “You don't understand. There's a right way and a wrong way to run a business, Keira.”

“Oh, I understand,” she said, reaching out to pat his shoulder, then letting her fingertips linger there just a moment or two. “Believe me, as mayor, I have to deal with people all the time. And it's just not logical to assume you can use the same strategy when dealing with different types of people.”

“It's always worked before,” he pointed out, scowling at her.

Keira scooted closer, leaned down and looked him dead in the eye. This she knew about. He might own all of the gorgeous hotels in the world, but Nathan Barrister was not a people person.

“But the thing is, Nathan, you don't know if it might work better doing things differently.”

“The company's policy has been in effect since my grandfather started the first hotel.”

“Jeez,” she said softly. “No wonder it's out-of-date.”

“I didn't say it was out-of-date.”

“Nope. I did.” Turning around, she sat back beside Nathan, tucked her hand through the crook of his arm and cuddled in. “Like, for instance, when Donna—she owns the pottery shop on the outskirts of town—wanted to increase her number of parking spaces in front of her shop, I went to bat for her with the town council. After all, her shop is out of the way, it wouldn't infringe on anyone else's parking. Why not?”

“Okay …”

“But, when the Clearwater wanted the same deal, I had to tell them no. Because they're in the middle of town, lakeside, and we just couldn't afford to lose tourist parking slots to make more room for their customers. Different situations, different rules.”

“Ah,” he said, smiling at her, “but the situations in my hotels are all the same. Each one is a Barrister. So the rules should apply evenly.”

She nudged his shoulder and laughed shortly. “The hotels are all in different places. Different traditions, different employees.”

“But—”

“Would you decorate your Barbados hotel the same way you decorated the one in say, D.C.?”

“No …”

“So, same thing applies.” Leaning her head against his shoulder, she added, “Cut your managers a little slack, Nathan. Trust them to know their people and their hotels. Lighten up a little and you might be surprised by the results you get.”

He frowned thoughtfully and shifted his gaze to the screen of his laptop, where his carefully written-up notes were marked with bullet points. “You couldn't have made your point an hour ago? Before I started working on this stupid list?”

Keira laughed and Nathan took a heartbeat of time to simply enjoy the sound as it swirled around him. She was cuddled in close and he liked the feel of her pressed against him. He liked knowing she was sitting beside him reading quietly—or that she was in the kitchen making grilled cheese sandwiches—or tripping over a rug on her way down the hall.

He just liked knowing she was here. Outside, the storm was still blowing and Nathan was willing to admit, at least to himself, that if he had been here, trapped by himself, he would have been half crazy by now.

But having her here made for a different sort of crazy. Keira was becoming too much a part of his world. He hated knowing that he was beginning to count on hearing her move through the house. That he was looking forward to their next argument. That he wanted her even more now than he had the first time they were together.

Somehow, she was worming her way right into the heart of him. And Nathan wasn't sure how to keep her at a distance anymore. Or even if he wanted to. Which worried him more than a little.

He hadn't thought about anything but business for years. Now, his life was on hold and he was in a situation where the rules had all changed on him. He was in a place where there was too little work to do and too few distractions to keep him from having too much time to think. To wonder. To ask himself a few fundamental questions. Like what his life might have been like if he'd taken a different path.

He supposed most men wondered those things from time to time, but he never had. He'd never had any doubts about his life or how he lived it.

Until now.

Until Keira.

“What're you thinking?” she asked.

“No way,” he said. “I'm not playing that game again. I'm in no mood to get frostbite, thanks.”

Keira laughed, gave him a punch on the arm and said, “Fine, coward. Can I use your satellite phone?”

He turned and looked at her, curiosity taking small, annoying bites of him. “Who're you going to call? The lines are all down, remember?”

“My sister,” Keira said. “I know, it's really long distance, you know, to London and all. But I won't stay on long and I'll pay for the call.”

Something inside him eased back and he really didn't want to explore what that might mean. Instead, he rummaged through the briefcase beside him on the floor, came up with the phone and handed it over. “Talk as long as you want. My treat.”

“Wow. You'll do anything to get me to leave you alone, huh?”

The answer to that question should have been yes. Since he wasn't sure anymore if it was or not, he said nothing, just turned back to his computer and began to delete his well-thought-out letter.

Keira punched in her sister's number as she walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee. While she waited for Kelly to pick up, she took a sip and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Kel,” Keira said, pushing away from the counter and walking toward the bank of windows. Her gaze fixed on the storm still blowing like crazy out there, she listened to Kelly's excited yelp and settled in for a good talk.

“Where have you been?” Kelly demanded. “I've been trying to get you forever but the phone at home's out of order and, by the way, how are you calling me and whose phone is it? I didn't recognize the number.”

Keira laughed, took another sip of hot coffee and said, “Big storm blew in yesterday. Phone lines are down.”

“Then how—”

“It's a satellite phone,” Keira said quickly. “Nathan let me borrow it.”

“Nathan, is it?” Kelly whistled a little, then asked, “what's he doing at the house?”

“He's not at the house, Mom—I'm at his place.”

“You mean the lodge?”

“That's the one.” Keira grinned and watched her reflection smile back at her.

“So this storm. How bad is it?”

“Phone lines down, remember?”

“Which means the roads are blocked, which means you're stranded in that big lodge with Nathan Barrister?”

Keira laughed. “All that college wasn't a waste after all. You're really quick.”

“Very funny. How did this happen? Oh, K. You slept with him, didn't you?”

“Kelly …” Keira glanced back over her shoulder, as if Nathan could hear her sister's voice.

“You did. I can so hear it in your tone. It's that, this is none of your business, butt out, Kelly, tone. I know it well.”

“And yet,” Keira said through gritted teeth, “you always seem to ignore it.”

“I'm sorry. No, wait. I'm not. Honest to God, Keira, are you nuts? This is Nathan Barrister, for God's sake. He is sooooooo not your type.”

A quick jolt of anger shot through Keira but she managed to squelch it before she could shout. “What exactly is my type then, Kel? You tell me.”

“Someone remotely normal? As in, not some damn recluse? Someone who isn't one of the richest men on the planet? Someone who isn't renowned for strings of one night stands?”

Well, Keira thought bitterly, she'd had to ask. “You're really making me sorry I called,” she muttered and took another drink of coffee, appreciating the scalding heat as it sang down her throat.