A Holiday Romance (2 page)

Lani was wrong. He’d put in plenty of face-to-face time. Real people were highly overrated.

There was a staccato rap on the door. Gavin Brill thrust his head inside. “Hey, Jarreau. I’m on my way home.”

“Give my best to the wife.” Kyle’s gut seized. He must be hungry.

“Sorry, man.” Gavin raised his eyebrows. At a scarce five-six, he was eight inches shorter than Kyle, but considered handsome by the women around the office. They swooned over his jet-black hair, blue eyes and Hollywood profile. “I’ll be too busy giving her mine.”

“No one likes a braggart.”

Gavin grinned. “I can’t help it.”

Kyle scowled; this was their act. “How many times did you call her today?”

Gavin had married Melina, one of their former reservation clerks. A cute little brunette who thought he was the sun and the moon and all the stars, too. Her adoration seemed cloying to Kyle, but he gave the couple allowances to be sappy newlyweds. Not that he’d admit it to Gavin.

The man’s grin widened. “Only eight. You owe me twenty.”

“Yeah, but how many times did
she
call you?”

“That wasn’t part of the bet.”

“A technicality,” Kyle said, but he took out his wallet. “I only have a hundred.”

Gavin gestured with his head. “Walk down with me and we’ll change it at the front desk.”

“You know I’m good for the money.”

“C’mon, bud. Don’t be a stick in the mud.”

First a fuddy-duddy and now a stick in the mud?

“I can offer extra incentive,” Gavin said. “Your unexpected arrival will put the fear of authority in the new night concierge. I hear he’s been hell on the staff, trying to prove himself.”

“Sounds like he has the right idea.”

To demonstrate that he wasn’t a fuddy, let alone a duddy, Kyle didn’t bother to roll down his sleeves and put on his jacket. They walked past the elevator to the stairwell and jogged down four flights, neither willing to break the pace.

“Melina says…” Gavin pushed through the staff door that opened onto a hidden corner of the vast lobby. He’d missed more than a few of their workouts lately and was trying not to pant. “Her friends at the desk—”

“Not my concern,” Kyle interrupted so the guy could inhale. Unless the minor problem had potential to grow into a larger issue, he’d learned to let his department managers deal with petty staff complaints. “Remember the chain of command.”

Gavin slid a finger inside his collar. “That’s what I told Melina you’d say, but she…” He shrugged. “She thought you’d care.”

“Care?” The word came out more sharply than Kyle had intended. He didn’t think of himself as uncaring,
even when it came to his family. Just strict. With the Jarreaus, fed up.

“I meant, if I brought up the problem on her friends’ behalf,” Gavin explained. “She doesn’t get that you don’t play favorites on the job.”

“The new concierge is only establishing the proper authority over his staff,” Kyle said, but he was uneasy. He
had
played favorites. Hiring both his foolish sister and his scoundrel younger brother was nepotism at its finest. The family ties he hadn’t been able to completely break.

Except for that small show of weakness, he’d been relentless in his climb up the corporate ladder. He was weeks away from a promotion that was a rare achievement for a man of thirty-six. Why should he have misgivings now?

Because he’d rather be respected by his staff than beloved?

Or was it because Lani had called him lonesome?

Or because Gavin had both a successful career and an adoring wife?

Kyle scanned the luxurious lobby. A reassuring sight. The lights of the stately yet rustic chandeliers cast a glow over ocher stucco walls. Tall palm fronds softened the empty corners. Guests moved about leisurely, most of them on their way to one of the lounges or restaurants. The bustle of white-jacketed employees was constant but discreet, as was the subtle infusion of music from a harpist and piano player on one of the overhanging balconies.

Only one woman seemed out of place—a rather plain brunette, unobtrusive except for a brightly colored outfit that shouted its newness. She was noticeable because she stood alone at the entrance, rubbing her hands on
her skirt while she gawked at the teak front desk and the potted orange trees and the skylights that opened the lobby to the lavender-tinged sky.

An employee from the hospitality staff gestured to the solitary woman. They walked to the restaurant entrance, holding an animated conversation as if they were old friends.

Satisfied that his employee was doing her job, Kyle erased the new guest from his mind and went to make change at the desk. He wished that all the day’s distractions were as easily forgotten.

“I
S IT JUST
my imagination, or is almost everyone here kind of old?” Alice asked as she and Chloe walked toward the entrance of the restaurant. The hospitality director had explained that while there were several fine dining spots at the resort, the Oasis de la Luna was the best.

“The guests, that is,” Alice corrected herself. “Not the staff.”

Chloe chuckled. “I suppose you’re right. We do cater to an upscale older crowd. Not quite as much during the off-season, however. This is discount time, when we get more families on tight budgets. But there are always plenty of retirees who stick around, too.”

“Especially at the condos.” Alice hesitated. “I noticed when I arrived that the other residents were mostly senior citizens. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with that. I was just hoping for a diverse crowd.” Pah! She was hoping for young single men.

“Of course you’re right,” Chloe said breezily. “A number of the condos are owned by year-round senior residents. The snowbirds with two homes are the ones who move down in the winter and fly back north for the summer.”

“They seemed friendly.” Except for one old lady
who’d been scooting along the sidewalk on a Segway. She’d almost run Alice over.

“Very friendly, some of them. Watch out or they’ll adopt you.”

Alice nodded. While following a porter through the Spanish-style condominium village when she’d first arrived, she’d been waved at and helloed to by the poolside loungers. They’d called her over to join them, but she’d only waved back. After her long trip, she’d been eager to get out of the stifling heat and unpack.

“Thanks for the warning,” she said. “I don’t want to spend my entire vacation playing canasta and taking naps.” She’d had enough experience with that pace of life to keep her until she was eighty.

“The condo gangs seem to be into poker these days. And you might be surprised. Some of them are quite lively.”

“Oh, I’m sure they are. I didn’t mean to stereotype, it’s just that…” Alice broke off; she didn’t want to delve too deeply into her close acquaintance with the gray-haired set on Osprey Island. “I was hoping for more action. My mother and her friends, um…”

They had reached the entrance and were waiting for the maître d’ to return. Chloe looked at Alice. “Yes?”

Emotion had clotted in her throat. “You see, I was caring for my sick mother for a long time, and my life got to revolve around hers. Four months ago, she passed on. So, basically, I’m at loose ends. This trip is a new start for me.”

Chloe was sympathetic. “I hear you. You’re turning a fresh page. You want something different.
Not
the over-sixties crowd from the condos.”

“Yes,” Alice said gratefully.

“No problem! I’ll see to it that you have an especially exciting stay.” The dimples reappeared in Chloe’s small round face, one high on her cheek, two others framing her rosebud mouth. “I’ve got all sorts of ideas for activities galore.”

“Keep them within reason.” Alice couldn’t prevent a note of caution from creeping into her voice. “I talk a good game, but I’m not sure how daring I’ll actually be.”

“Naturally, the safety and comfort of our guests are our primary concerns,” Chloe said, but then she added, almost to herself, “Hmm, what about Camelback? And rock climbing…”

Oh, dear.
“Right now, I’d settle for dinner. It’s been a long day.”

“Of course.” Chloe waved impatiently for the maître d’ while surveying the busy dining room. “I’ll get you a good table. Would you prefer the patio?”

“Anything will do,” Alice said. The clink of silverware, the murmur of conversation and soft harp music were inviting. She watched a handsome, suntanned couple lean close over the flicker of a tea light and wished she wasn’t alone.

Never mind. Make the best of it.

“Even by the kitchen,” she added.

“
Pfft.
You deserve better than that.”

I do,
Alice silently agreed. She’d spoken out of habit. Like most Osprey Islanders, she was accustomed to humility. Ostentation was not appreciated there.

While Chloe conferred with the maître d’, Alice gazed at the elegant dining room. The rustic stone, wood and stucco of the lobby gave way to a more refined Spanish design with arches, glass lanterns and wrought-
iron sconces. White linen and exotic birds of paradise dressed the tables.

Alice smoothed her skirt. It was a style she’d never worn before, striped like a flag in fiesta colors that suddenly seemed too garish and common. When she’d bought it, she’d imagined herself sipping sangria under an umbrella on a sunny patio, not sticking out like a cheap piñata at an exquisite soirée.

“All righty,” Chloe said. “You’ve got a table by the window, but it won’t be ready for another ten or fifteen minutes. I’d love to take you for a drink in the Manzanita Lounge. It’s right through here.”

“You don’t have to stick with me.” Alice lowered her eyes so that the other woman wouldn’t see how much she really didn’t want to be on her own tonight. “I’m sure you have other guests to attend to.”

“I can spare ten minutes.” Chloe looped a hand around Alice’s elbow. “In fact, you’d be doing me a favor. The new night concierge is a taskmaster. I don’t get to mingle with guests very often since he came on the job.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” Alice said with a light laugh that eased the strain in her throat. She wasn’t as prepared for this adventure as she’d have liked.

Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she’d have adjusted and would feel more equipped.

They went into the adjacent lounge and sat at the bar to order drinks. The bartender was a good-looking young Mexican whose dark eyes were set off by the high collar of the staff uniform. After serving them with a flourish, he was called away to the other end of the bar.

“Do you know him?” Alice whispered before taking a sip of a prickly-pear-flavored rum punch.

Chloe had settled for the nonalcoholic version. “Ramon? He’s new. Cute, don’t you think?”

“Young.”

“He’s putting himself through college, but he started late. He’s only a year younger than I am.”

“You’re young, too.” This was one of the times that thirty-four and never a bride seemed ancient to Alice. “Sounds like you know him pretty well.”

“We’ve talked.” Chloe grinned. “And flirted.” She swiveled to gaze longingly down the polished stone bar before swinging her stool back in Alice’s direction. “What about you? No significant other waiting for you at home?”

Alice spun her straw, swirling the ice in her drink. “No one.”

Chloe’s eyes creased. They were tilted up at the corners by the pull of her tightly anchored high ponytail. “Has your heart been broken?”

Alice blinked. Did it still show? She’d been jilted by Stewart almost five years ago.

Five years—wow. She hadn’t added it up lately. She felt as if the breakup had only recently happened. Yet she knew that she’d been lucky to be rid of the faithless man and that there were much deeper losses.

Under normal circumstances, she might have been able to get over Stewart and move on. But romantic options on Osprey were limited. She’d been left with far too many empty hours to brood.

“Water under the bridge,” she said, putting on a nonchalant front. “And way down the river.”

Chloe nodded sagely. “We’ve all watched that stream flow by.”

“Some of us more than others,” said a plump, older woman who was passing by. “My rowboat’s capsized a
few times, but I keep on paddling.” She raised her hand, calling out, “Yoo-hoo, cutie!” to a silver-haired man in cowboy boots and a bolo tie before hurrying away.

“That’s Leilani Steen,” Chloe said, “assistant to the boss.”

“The taskmaster?” Alice asked.

“Not
my
taskmaster. A different one. Actually quite a hot one, if he’d ever loosen his tie and pop off his cuff links.” Chloe spun right around, sitting straighter as she did. “Speak of the devil. There he is now.”

Alice glanced over her shoulder and saw the rowboat woman talking to someone who towered over her, while the woman’s suitor hovered at her elbow. “Which taskmaster?”

“Lani’s boss. Mr. Kyle Jarreau.” Chloe’s tone was filled with admiration. “Manager of the whole PM shebang.”

PM meant Prince Montez, Alice remembered, as a second look had her straightening up right alongside Chloe. There was something about the man who’d just walked into the lounge that made a woman draw a breath all the way to the bottom of her lungs.

Lani and her date had moved on and the “taskmaster” stood alone in the archway between bar and restaurant. Alone but at ease, his presence effortlessly commanding as he surveyed the area.

The air in the room became electric, the employees galvanized. Alice rubbed her palms over the goose bumps on her arms. She swiveled toward the bar. The back of her head and neck tingled as if he’d looked her way.

“Uh-oh,” Chloe said without moving her lips. “He’s seen me.”

Alice exhaled.
Not me. Of course, not me.
“You’d better go on, then. I don’t want to keep you from your job.”

Chloe slid off the stool. “Have a nice dinner.” She laid her hand on Alice’s arm. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow and we’ll plan your schedule.”

Alice watched obliquely as Chloe passed the boss with a nodding bounce of her ponytail and a perky, “Good evening, Mr. Jarreau.”

He returned the nod without smiling.

He was solemn, but young for such a position of authority. Probably no more than forty, tops. Not that Alice knew much about the ins and outs of resort management, her only experience being the cakes she’d delivered to the White Gull Inn from her best friend Susan’s bakery.

She tipped forward and caught the straw between her teeth. The tingles returned, but when she flicked her gaze at Mr. Jarreau, he wasn’t looking her way. She wished he’d move. Go away. Prove that there was no cat-and-mouse awareness except in her overheated imagination.

Suddenly he appeared beside her, leaning past Chloe’s abandoned stool with his hands on the edge of the granite slab of the bar. He pressed forward, flexing tanned forearms beneath the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. “Busy night, Ramon?”

Loose tie, no cuff links, Alice noted with a shiver. Only a chunky platinum watch around one thick wrist. Chloe had got it wrong.

The bartender smiled, revealing his white teeth. “The usual, sir. The conference attendees drained five gallons of margarita mix in twenty minutes flat. Chef Chavez is causing a ruckus in the kitchens. Can I get you anything, Mr. Jarreau?”

“No.” He pushed away from the bar, ran his dangling
tie between two fingers. “Yes. I’ll have a whiskey sour. Light on the whiskey. I have an empty stomach.”

While Ramon busied himself, Jarreau’s glance rested on Alice for a second. She felt overly conscious of her elbows pressed to her ribs and her tongue against her teeth.

I’m nothing to him. Just another guest. One face among hundreds.

The thought rankled her. Why was she so dismissive of herself? Had her status as everybody’s helpmate become that ingrained?

“It’s a beautiful hotel,” she said. Her voice seemed too eager, too bright, if only to herself. “That is, from what I’ve seen so far. I just arrived a few hours ago. Chloe Weston was showing me around.”
Now I’m talking too much.
“She was very kind and welcoming. A real credit to the resort.”

“Excellent.” Mr. Jarreau took his drink from the bartender, and Alice didn’t know which of them he was addressing until he raised his glass to her. “Enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks.” Deep breath. “I’m Alice Potter. From Osprey Island, Maine.”

“Kyle Jarreau. Pleased to meet you.”

There was a moment of awkward silence. She felt compelled to fill it. “I know what you’re thinking.” She was plucking words from the whirl of her brain. “Alice Potter is such a nursery rhyme kind of name.”

“Huh,” he said, half a chuckle.

The maître d’had appeared at her other elbow. “Your table is ready, Miss Potter.”

She shot an amused glance at Mr. Jarreau as she disembarked. “You see what I mean?”

His mouth moved without quite reaching a smile. “Good evening.” One eyebrow tilted. “Miss Potter.”

Alice laughed and walked away. The swish of her full skirt no longer felt gaudy. It was festive.

K
YLE STAYED
at the bar in the Manzanita Lounge, ordering a turkey club sandwich from the grill. He chatted with Ramon about hoops and colleges and then college hoops during the bartender’s few quiet moments. That’d show Lani, he thought to himself at one point, even though the gibe felt immature when she was only thinking of his goodwill. His own mother had never been the type to monitor his social progress. She’d rarely even remembered to tell him to eat his vegetables.

From his position, he could see into the neighboring restaurant. At a distant table, a small one tucked in a corner beside a window, sat Miss Potter. Solo. His eyes returned to her again and again throughout the hour, watching as she alternately stared dreamily out the window and scribbled in a small notebook she set aside only when her dinner was served.