I turn to face him and he shackles my wrist, pulling me to the gate and him, his hand going to my jaw as he gives me a deep, fast kiss. “Make sure the maids didn’t lock you out of your room,” he says, settling me away from him.
Reluctantly, I walk to the door and slide it open. “It’s good,” I say.
“Yes,” he agrees. “It is good.” And then he turns and disappears into his room. I stare after him, and I’m not sure why, but something feels off. He’s just told me he can’t get enough of me. He’s just told me I’m exceptional and he’s working to save the company. What is this strange ball of anxiety in my chest? Fear over how drawn I am to him? How easily he could hurt me? Maybe. Or maybe not.
Forty-five minutes later, I’ve dressed in a pale blue sleeveless silk blouse and a black pleated skirt, with strappy black sandals. My hair is flat-ironed to a blonde, silky wave around my shoulders, and I’ve chosen a pale pink lipstick. I settle at the desk in my living area to begin making calls, trying to shake the anxiety from earlier, but I can’t. I try to call Meredith but don’t reach her, and I wonder if she’s on the call with Jensen. Next, I try Katie, only to get her voice mail. Finally, I call down to the front desk and make contact with the manager, who recovers from the shock of our presence quickly and promises to line up key staff for our interviews. Task complete, I repeat my earlier efforts and try to reach Meredith and Katie again, and upon failure, settle on staying busy. I pin down meeting times with the key management staff of the hotel, try to reach Meredith and Katie yet again with no luck, and find out which hotel is our biggest competition and lunch choice.
I’m just about to try Meredith again when there’s a knock on the door. I pause with my hand on the knob, telling myself Jensen will not impact me any differently than any other man I’ve dated.
I’m wrong.
I open the door and his presence slams into me with the fury of a hurricane, and I am definitely in the eye of the storm. And that storm is power and confidence in a pale-gray suit with a green tie that makes his already striking green eyes a pure emerald fire.
He looks me up and down and drags me to him, kissing me soundly on the lips. “Every time I’m away from you, I convince myself I won’t want you this much next time.”
“I’m not sure how I feel about that,” I say, despite having just done the same thing myself.
“I’m not either. Nor am I sure how I keep my hands off you while we conduct these meetings.”
He kisses me again, leaving me breathless. I reach up and wipe his cheek. “If we’re being discreet, I’d say leaving my lipstick off of you and on me is smart.”
“What fun is that?” he asks, wiping my cheek as well. “You’d better go fix your face and I’ll stay here like the good little Boy Scout I am, or you’ll never get that lunch I promised you.”
I laugh and turn away, but as I fix my lipstick, I remind myself to be cautious. He’s right. He’s no Boy Scout.
* * * *
Thirty minutes later, Jensen and I are sitting outside on a wooden patio of a waterfront restaurant that’s part of a nearby hotel, and I am heartily enjoying my meal. “This,” I say, pointing at the bowl in front of me, “is the best macaroni and cheese I’ve ever tasted and I’m a mac n’ cheese connoisseur.”
“The lobster is two thumbs up as well, let me tell you.” He motions to the waitress, who quickly joins us. “Is the head chef in?”
“No. He’s not here until four. Is something wrong? Can I get a manager?”
“Nothing is wrong. What’s the chef’s name?”
The waitress shares the chef’s information and Jensen types it into his phone. “And the manager?”
“Are you sure nothing is wrong?”
“Just the opposite,” Jensen assures her.
Once he’s asked a few more questions, she departs, and I arch a brow.
“The best talent is never looking for a job,” he replies. “You have to recruit them away.”
“That’s kind of evil.”
“All’s fair in love and war, and business is war.”
“A good reason for me to be a doctor. I don’t want to be part of this war or any other one.”
“Fighting to save lives is a war, isn’t it?”
“I’m not going to be a surgeon. I want to be a family practice doctor.”
“Surgeons get paid well for fighting the wars.”
“So do you, I’m sure, but I don’t want either job. General practice lets me see the same people often and contribute to their overall health. Which also means I’ll never be wealthy.”
“Your father was a GP?”
“He was a surgeon who became a GP.”
His eyes narrow. “That doesn’t happen often, does it?”
“He had a God complex, complete with arrogance and attitude, or so he and my mother told me. I was too young to remember.” The waitress clears our plates and offers us dessert. We both opt for coffee.
“From surgeon to GP,” Jensen prods. “How did it happen?”
“He lost a patient he felt he shouldn’t have lost. A young boy. The medical board ruled in his favor, but he ruled against himself. He never operated again, and as for the arrogance and attitude, I only knew a kind, giving man whom everyone loved. But looking back, I remember the pain in his eyes. I didn’t know what it was then, but I do now.”
“To understand it, you have to know it.”
There are moments in my life that want to surface but I reject them, staying in the moment. “Don’t we all as adults?”
“Eventually, yes, and while I don’t want to wish pain on anyone at a young age, those who experience it earlier seem to cope better later.”
“Or it destroys them sooner,” I say, and as is becoming a theme with Jensen, I wonder what we are really talking about. He doesn’t really open up and tell me anything about himself, but it seems like maybe he’s trying.
The coffee arrives and we both add cream and sweetener. Jensen reaches in the briefcase he’d brought in order to go over some sort of business with me before our meetings, removing a folder. I’m hoping this is where he tells me about his earlier conference call. Thus far every time I’ve nudged for answers, he’s played dodge ball.
“We need to talk,” he says.
It’s the kind of prelude that would make anyone’s gut clench, and mine certainly does. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“We simply need to talk worst-case scenarios.”
“Worst-case scenarios?” I repeat like a robot.
“That’s right. I told you if I get out, I can’t control who is kept or who’s laid off.”
“Are you saying that’s what you’re going to do? Did the meeting go badly?”
“That’s not what I’m saying, but Meredith was in the meeting today and she made it clear you’re loyal to her. If I resign, you will be given the ax without question.”
“Oh. Well.” I swallow hard. “That’s...not fun to hear.”
He pulls a piece of paper from a folder and slides it over to me. “This is my answer.”
My gaze lowers to read what appears to be a contract. In disbelief, I take in what is an offer to pay me six months of salary, the exact amount I told him I need to be ready for school, on the condition I do not sue the company or him. My gaze jerks to his. “I thought you wanted my help?”
“I do. I want and need you to help me finish the site inspections, but not only does this secure your future, it makes you an objective consultant.” He places another piece of paper in front of me. “That’s a consultant agreement. It says you agree to consult at a specified hourly rate now and during the next six months. It’s a conditional clause of the first agreement.”
“When did you create this?”
“This morning.”
“Is this because you’re worried I’m going to sue you for what’s happened between us?”
“No, but it’s a perk to calm the board when they find out we’re seeing each other.”
“Seeing each other? Is that what we’re doing?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what we’re doing.” He hands me a pen. “Sign.”
“If this money goes to me and people are laid off, doesn’t this mean someone else is hurt because of me?”
“I’m not going to let the board take over, Danny. This is just a precaution.”
“Which means you aren’t a hundred percent sure you’re going to win this ‘war.’”
“Sign the deal.”
“I need to think about this and read it.”
“Don’t be foolish, Danny. Signing this secures your future.”
I bristle. “Reviewing a legal document rather than signing it at a lunch table with a man you barely know but have been naked with several times isn’t foolish. It’s smart.”
“I’m trying to protect you.”
“I didn’t ask for a Prince Charming, Jensen.”
“Sweetheart, I would never pretend to be Prince Charming.”
No. He’s a wolf, which seems to be what attracts me to him. “I need to review the documents and think this through.”
“Danny,” he urges softly. “There is no small print. This is good for you. If the board takes over and they decide to lay off staff, top salaries will go first. Managers will be fired and duties placed with other people at a lesser expense. The staff will be numbers. You will not. You’ll be Meredith’s close confidante.”
“What if you do stay in and Meredith needs me?”
“Then stay on board and work if you want, but you get paid in advance. Or go somewhere else and work until school starts and make extra.”
Lowering my gaze, I read both agreements again, and he’s right. They aren’t complicated and there’s no fine print to hide anything I might need to review. I’m not a fool. I’m pretty much alone in this world. I sign the agreements and slide them back to Jensen.
He seems to let out a sigh of relief, quickly filing them in his briefcase, standing and pulling me to my feet. “I’m protecting you and you’re protecting you.”
He’s right. He is and I am. It’s true. Why wouldn’t it be true?
* * * *
Jensen and I come up with a plan for questioning the staff, each of us interviewing them with a different set of questions. I finish my last meeting, and since I can’t seem to locate Jensen, I head back to my room to pack. The first thing I do is change into faded jeans, a T-shirt, and Keds. Once my suitcase is sealed, I dial Jensen and he doesn’t answer. With a few minutes to spare, I open the patio door to take a last admiring look at the beach. Stepping outside, I lean on the railing when the soft murmur of Jensen’s voice touches my ears.
I turn to walk to the divider gate and call out, but his voice grows louder and I hear, “I told you, taking care of Danny was necessary.”
My heart drops to my feet. Necessary? It was necessary? I dart back into my room and stand at the edge of the door, pulling it almost shut, and not a second too soon. He steps onto his patio, and I hear, “I’m quite clear the goal is to take over the operation. Don’t fucking tell me what my job is.” I bite my lip and pray I’m not hearing what I think I’m hearing. “Danny’s got valuable insight Meredith will never let us see. Yes, I know it was an expense, but it’s the price of doing business.” He’s silent a moment. “Enough. I’m done. Hanging up now.”
I shut my eyes, inhaling as I try to think logically not emotionally. His phone rings again. “Meredith,” he answers. “No. Of course, I’m not trying to screw you over. I know you need Danny. And I know you need your budget. I paid for this out of my own pocket.”
I push off the wall. What? He paid out of his own pocket?
“Of course I’m trying to save the operation. That’s why I took on this expense. I know you need your budget dollars.” He makes a frustrated sound. “If you don’t want to have her back because you feel she’s now a spy, that’s your own problem.”
I feel sick. I shut the door and start to pace. I have no idea what I’ve just heard. I don’t know if Jensen is on Meredith’s side or the board’s. Or maybe he’s just on his own side. Whatever the case, I’ve become a token in a game and I don’t like it. I’m not saving jobs. I might even be costing jobs. I have no idea. I’m over my head and I’m not objective either. Even now, I want to go to Jensen and have him explain everything. I want him to wrap me in his arms, strip me naked, and make me forget why I care. I can’t stay. I have to leave. I don’t do war. I won’t do war and that’s what this is.
I grab my suitcase and purse before I can talk myself out of this. No. Before he talks me out of this. With my heart now in my throat instead of my stomach, I rush to the hallway and all but run to the elevator. Reaching for the button, my stupid hand shakes. It’s the adrenaline. And emotions. Damn it, I’m emotionally involved in this in far too many ways.
The doors open and I step forward when I hear, “Danny!”
At the sound of Jensen’s voice, I don’t dare look or my resolve will surely melt in the same way my body does for this man. I rush into the car and punch the button over and over as if it will close the doors sooner. They start to close and I watch them. “Come on, come on.”
A second before they seal, I see a glimpse of Jensen and hear, “Danny, what—”
I never hear the rest.
Aware he’s likely to take the stairs, I exit the elevator and I don’t go to the front door. I go to the side exit and I walk toward the hotel next door. The instant I’m at their front door, I grab a cab someone else is getting out of.
Once me and my bags are inside, I’m shocked to hear, “Danny!” a moment before Jensen pounds on the window.
“What are we doing here, lady?” the cab driver demands.
“Open up, Danny.”
“What do you want to do?” the cab driver demands.
“Roll it down half way.”
“The meter is running.”
“That’s fine,” I say.
He rolls the window down. “What the hell are you doing?” Jensen demands.
“I heard you talking on your patio.”
His jaw clenches. “I said nothing I wouldn’t say in front of you.”
“Of course you say that, and really it doesn’t matter. I started...I’m not making this business. We aren’t business and it is business. I can’t be a token.”
“You aren’t. Baby, listen to me. You rock my world. I’m protecting you and yes, I’m playing games with the people involved to get the right end result. But that’s the result you want, too.”
“Because it’s war.”
“Yes. Because it’s war.”