Authors: Carrie Alexander
Alice Potter of Osprey Island, Maine.
She was nothing extraordinary. Mild, affable, a little awkward. And yet something about her had engaged his interest.
Her gentle brown eyes…her tremulous attempt at witty conversation?
He considered, watching a smile light her face when a waiter arrived with her dessert, a miniature tower of cake drizzled with fruit and chocolate sauce. She studied the plate for a moment, then picked up a fork, pausing only to look around the room with an expectant smile that went unreturned. Her pleasure dimmed as she focused on the dessert.
Kyle gritted his teeth. Perhaps it was her loneliness that drew him.
He glanced away, fully aware that his continuing presence had put the lounge employees on edge. They hurried back and forth, giving their patrons one level above the usual top-notch service. None had taken a break to dally at the bar and shoot the breeze with Ramon the way they usually might.
They would be dying for Kyle to leave already. Not a single one of them would believe that the pressure on him to deliver far outweighed theirs. Some days—and some solitary middle-of-the-nights—he felt as though an elephant sat on his chest.
He lifted a finger to the bartender, who reacted instantly. The attentiveness meant everything to Kyle. He had command. He’d instilled in the staff a discipline that matched his own. Those things were more important than fleeting gratification or needy personal relationships that only caused trouble.
Ramon parked his fists on his hips. “Can I get you another, boss?”
The plate from Kyle’s meal had been removed, but a small pool of alcohol remained in his glass. “No, thanks. One’s my limit.” He crooked a finger. “Tell me…”
The bartender leaned in.
“When I leave, will the entire staff go on break at once?”
After a startled moment, Ramon smiled. “They’ll wait five minutes to be sure you’re gone.”
Kyle nodded. “That’s what I thought.” He pushed aside a crumpled cocktail napkin, dropped his feet to the floor. “Prepare for the mass exodus.”
He stood and turned, catching sight of Alice Potter
again. A waiter was taking away her dessert plate. She glanced at the other diners, catching her bottom lip with her teeth.
“I changed my mind,” he said to the young bartender. “Give me two glasses of champagne, please.”
“Right away.”
Kyle saw that all charges were added to his account, along with a hefty tip for Ramon, then carried the fine crystal into the restaurant. It had begun to empty out, but a number of patrons lingered over drinks to enjoy the Old World atmosphere.
Alice Potter was leaning forward on stiff arms as she gazed out the window at the twinkle of the patio lights and the dark sky beyond. She looked up with surprise when Kyle set the champagne flute in front of her.
“Miss Potter,” he said. “Your first night here deserves to be toasted with champagne. May I join you?”
Her fingers fluttered to her hair, worn shoulder-length in a rather shapeless brown bob. “Of course. But could we go outside to the patio? I was just thinking that I’d like to sit under the stars.”
He picked up the flutes. “Lead the way.”
She rose, hesitant as she reached for her handbag. “I haven’t paid the—”
“It’s taken care of.”
“Oh. Thank you. Thank you so much.” She seemed uncertain about accepting. “I suppose you can do that, charge it to the house, when you
are
the house.”
“Yes,” he said slowly. So she knew who he was. “Although I’m not really the house. Merely the overseer.” He caught the handle of the patio door with two fingers just as she reached for it, too. Their fingertips pressed.
She yanked her hand away. A waiter stepped in, holding the door open and smoothly relieving Kyle of the glasses.
There was an open table at the periphery, where sage and lavender swayed in the breeze. Kyle held out a chair for Alice.
She glanced at him with a shy smile as he seated himself. “You’re so mannerly.”
“I learned to be,” he admitted. “That’s not how I grew up.”
“Oh?”
He shrugged off her questioning look, not willing to go there. “You’re a long way from home.”
She sipped her champagne, quite the lady herself. “That’s the idea.” She turned her head toward the cooling breeze rolling in off the mountains. “I wanted to be as far away as I could manage. In an unfamiliar place.”
“You’ve never been to the Southwest before?”
“Not since a high-school class trip to Mazatlán. I haven’t been very adventurous. But I’m going to make up for that.” She made a face, and he liked her wry honesty, even the humility.
“During dinner,” she continued, “I was working on a list.”
His interest deepened. “May I see it?”
“Oh, no, it’s embarrassing.”
“Come on,” he coaxed.
Her cheeks were pink, her eyes large and velvety dark, dominating her oval face. She was almost pretty. “It’s nothing. Only a standard list of things to do and places to go while I’m here.”
“Then it can’t be embarrassing.”
“That depends. You don’t think it’s embarrassing for
a thirty-four-year-old woman to admit that she has about as much experience as a potted plant?”
Kyle grinned. “I doubt that’s true.”
She returned the grin, erasing every trace of exhaustion and sadness from her expression. “Nearly.”
He wanted to touch her. Instead, he put his elbows on the table and folded his hands against his chin, holding her gaze while he dug a thumbnail into his bottom lip. “Read me something off the list.”
After a moment, she looked away, blushing even more. “I’ll find an innocuous item.” She pulled the pocket notebook from her bag and flipped the pages where her scrawled handwriting looped.
She saw him peeking and shielded the list from view. She cleared her throat. “Here’s one—see a rattlesnake.”
He raised his eyebrows. “At least you don’t want to pet it.”
“It’s silly, I know. But I’ve never seen a rattlesnake. We don’t have them in Maine.”
“What else is on the list?”
“Get a picture taken with a saguaro cactus,” she read. “That’s not very exciting, is it?”
“Don’t pet the cactus, either.”
She rolled her eyes, but her shoulders relaxed and she took another drink of champagne. Pages turned. “Hmm.” Her smile was almost flirtatious. “I can cross off
this
one.” She searched in her purse for a pen.
“What is it?”
She clicked the pen. “Drinks on the patio with a handsome stranger.”
“You’re making that up.”
“No, really. See?” She held up the book, showing him the line she’d drawn through number fourteen.
“I was number fourteen?”
“Well after the rattlesnake.” Her eyes met his. “I was working up to the really good ones.”
Warmth seeped into his face. He was glad he’d already loosened his tie. “What’s number fifteen? Maybe we can knock that one off, too.”
She turned the page. “Meet a cowboy.”
Kyle frowned. “Your fantasies aren’t very evolved.”
“That kinda feels like an insult, but I know what you mean.” She laughed. “I suppose I’m a slow starter. Except, well, they’re not fantasies, are they? Fantasies are…”
“Kiss a cowboy?” he suggested, knowing he shouldn’t. Her face turned even redder and she thrust the notebook back into her purse. He’d thought a drink with Alice Potter would be harmless, a mild conversation about resort amenities and the weather forecast. He’d thought he was doing it to make
her
feel better.
Not to make himself feel human.
Human? Try feeling like a
man.
She was not a stunner, not sophisticated or smooth. Nothing like Jenna. But she was clever and gentle. She brought out his protective instincts.
“Why did you come here?” he asked. “This resort, specifically.”
She was concentrating on her champagne, taking tiny sip after tiny sip. “Is this a customer survey?”
“Curiosity. You’re different from our usual guest.”
Her head came up. “Meaning I’m not seventy years old and wealthy?”
“And you’re…single. We’re not known as a singles resort, even though I’ve tried to expand our market.” He was striving to sound professional, which had never been a problem before.
“It’s not a spectacular story,” Alice said. “I just needed to get away from home. One day I was surfing the Internet, looking for interesting places I’d never been to, when I landed on a site that specializes in vacation-home exchanges. Long story short, I swapped two weeks with a condo owner. He’s staying at my cottage in Maine.” She toyed with the stem of her glass, her head bent to one side so her neck was exposed.
Kyle’s eyes lingered. “I see. So you’re in one of the condos.” Master of stating the obvious.
No wonder she’d made the seventy-year-old comment. The Prince Montez chain had plunged into the thriving vacation-condo market as an adjunct to their luxury resort hotels. While the condos were technically under Kyle’s command, that wasn’t an area where he needed to spend a lot of his time. Other than the occasional turnover of ownership or HOA—Home Owner’s Association—tussle, their management was a matter of maintaining the status quo.
“I don’t get over to the condos very often,” he said.
That meant he wasn’t likely to come across Alice after tonight. Probably a good thing. One “welcome” drink was fine, but he couldn’t afford to give her the idea that he was interested in her. The PM policy against fraternization between guests and employees was strictly enforced—by him. Although romantic relationships among employees was also frowned on, they happened more frequently than he would have preferred. Take Gavin, for example.
“I’m kept busy here,” he added, not sure why he felt the need to explain himself to Alice, except that she looked almost forlorn. A fringe of overly long bangs had fallen across her forehead, into her eyes.
“Yes.” She studied her fingers, caged around the glass.
Kyle clenched his jaw. He had fired two employees for fraternization. One a guy who’d played cabana boy a little too well, following up on the offers of flirtatious female guests, even after several warnings. The other had been an office worker, though fraternization had been the least of her crimes. She’d also been more than an employee to Kyle. His sister, in fact. Making her flouting of the rules a most uncomfortable situation.
But he’d done what he had to do. And he would do it again, even if that meant letting down sweet Alice Potter with her nursery rhyme name and her large dark eyes that held so much expectation and hope.
His fault, damn it. She’d have had no hopes if he hadn’t already stepped over the line.
“Thank you for sharing my company,” he said, rising to his feet.
For making me number fourteen.
“I enjoyed it.”
She looked up at him, blinking, then brushed her hair aside. “I did, too,” she said softly.
“Please let…let the staff know if you need anything at all during your stay with us.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“Would you like an escort back to the condo? We have carts available, or—”
“No, thank you. Now that it’s cooled off, I’ll enjoy the walk. The grounds are so beautiful.” She turned her face away, lifting it again to the balmy breeze. His gaze followed hers across the manicured vista, where guests strolled by twos and threes. Farther off, snatches of music played intermittently as the more garrulous groups entered the adjacent nightclub. “I’d like to stay here for a while longer.”
Kyle hesitated, but there seemed nothing left to say.
He could
not
ask her to go dancing. “Good evening, then, Miss Potter.”
Her lips parted. “Good evening, Mr. Jarreau.” She did not meet his eyes.
T
HE LONESOME ONESOME
,
Alice thought with derision as she accepted a second glass of champagne from the attentive waiter, even though one was enough to make her tipsy.
She supposed she qualified as a VIP now that she’d been noticed by the head honcho, but she couldn’t enjoy the moment of glory, such as it was. She’d rather have stayed anonymous than be given a taste of what it felt like to be admired and even flirted with before the attention was taken away again.
But that was the old Alice talking.
The new Alice should have been bolder. Made herself too enticing to resist. Somehow.
Her interlude with Kyle Jarreau was likely the only holiday flirtation she’d get. She would savor it when she was home.
Home alone.
No, focus on Kyle.
The way he held himself, for instance—erect and almost regal, evoking formality even with his button-down shirt undone at the cuffs and collar. His posture was so perfect that she’d reminded herself several times to sit up, lift her head high to meet his gaze.