Len struggles to reclaim her motor skills, but after a second or two, she accepts the luggage, her face still slack.
No help from that quarter.
“Great. Shall we?” My attempt to inject a little extra perkiness into my voice ends with me sounding like a cheerleader after ten cups of coffee.
I do my best not to wince while praying that Kellin doesn’t decide we’re both deranged and hightail it out of here.
He offers another perfectly charming smile. If he notices my rattled nerves, he at least possesses the courtesy not to mention them. “Yes. I’m excited to see the property.”
“Right this way, Mr. Jameson.”
Over the phone, we agreed to begin his stay with a short tour of the hotel grounds. Nowadays, tours are the kind of task I usually assign to the concierge staff, but with so much riding on this, I need to handle his personally.
Before we turn away, Lenora widens her eyes at me, mouthing,work it.
Shooting her a death glare, I thank my lucky stars Kellin’s checking out a seascape on the wall. And exactly what does Lenora think I should work? My classy but boring business suit? Please.
I consider myself attractive in a no-nonsense, secretary-like way. I’m not a bombshell, nor a beach babe. A man this successful and sexy probably dates a different model every week.
Which is fine. Kellin’s not here to date me. He’s here to invest in my hotel. Hopefully.
“You know, I skipped lunch.” Kellin briefly rests a hand on my forearm. His touch makes keeping rational thoughts in my head more difficult than an act of Congress. “And I’ve heard wonderful things about your chef. Henri Moreau, isn’t it?”
So I’m not the only one who did their homework. The realization fizzes pleasantly through my head.
I admire a man who pays attention to detail. “Yes, Henri. One of our best finds.”
“You’ll have to introduce me to the menu.” While his unhurried tone relaxes me, his buttery, suggestive gaze frays my focus.
As we walk the halls, I struggle to keep from stuttering, and more than once, I’m left trailing off as he casts an appreciative glance at my profile or legs.
He’s so smooth, it’s like someone’s drizzling olive oil down my spine, vertebra by vertebra.
I may be stressed and perennially single, but I’m not so far gone that I don’t recognize sexual attraction.
Still, I can’t afford to lose myself to this man’s inconvenient allure. Thankfully, life as Declan Gallagher’s daughter has taught me how to keep up my guard. How to hide my true self.
If Kellin thinks he can charm and seduce me into giving him an advantage or signing a bad deal, he’s in for a rude awakening.
And he’ll soon find that out for himself.
I lead him through the hotel, pulling out all the stops. I show him the conference rooms, the gardens, the indoor pool, the outdoor pool, and the downstairs bars.
Throughout the tour, he compliments the decor. The hand-etched designs in the hall wainscoting. The imported wallpaper in the bar.
By the time we’ve circled back to the lobby, I’m aware of what a keen eye he has for expensive things.
He stops walking to admire the Botticino marble beneath our feet. “Italian marble, isn’t it? Must have required a significant initial investment.”
My radar pings. Interesting. A subtle probe into the hotel’s original financing.
I deflect while brushing a lock of hair behind my shoulder. “We believe in quality. The Cypress was renovated from the ground up, no expense spared. The epitome of luxury.”
“Someone has exquisite taste.” His eyelids lower when he smiles at me, his expression flickering with approval and an emotion that looks a lot like desire.
I try to ignore the fluttering sensation in my stomach. “I could say the same about you.”
He arches an amused eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?”
