A Holiday Romance (11 page)

Beep.
The voice mail cut off.

“More,” she whispered into the dead phone.

“A
LICE
,” K
YLE CALLED
.

She was standing at the front desk, her head bowed over the phone. A short conversation, but intimate, from her body language. She didn’t hear him.

She replaced the receiver but didn’t let go. The clerk finished with late-arriving guests and came over to where Alice stood. He said something Kyle couldn’t
hear and a look of surprise crossed the clerk’s face, but he picked up the phone and punched a couple of buttons for her. Then moved off with seeming reluctance.

Strange reaction.

Alice’s second conversation was even shorter. She wasn’t calling home; the desk clerk wouldn’t have to dial for her. Therefore, it was reasonable to assume she’d called someone in the hotel. Reasonable, also, to deduce that she’d called either him or Denver, rather than any friends she might have made—she’d likely have their direct lines.

The blood rising into his face didn’t feel reasonable.

She turned, smoothing down her skirt as her glance slid past him.

“Alice,” he said, stepping forward even though he was in his workout clothes, a sweat-soaked towel draped around his neck. “Over here.”

She spotted him, way off in the corner. Her head poked forward like a turtle’s. “Kyle? What are you—”

He met her halfway. “Excuse my appearance. I’ve been working out.” He took her by the elbow to the staff door. “Come with me.”

She hung back. “Where are we going?”

“Up to my suite.”

“Your suite? But you didn’t even get my—” Her mouth clamped shut.

“Get what?”

She shook her head.

“Don’t look so alarmed.” They passed through the corridor and got on the service elevator. He pressed the button for the penthouse floor, remembering how wowed he’d been the first dozen or so times he’d done that. Now all that mattered was the next rung up the ladder.

Nothing wrong with ambition, he thought, but his heart wasn’t in it, not when Alice was staring up at him with her big brown eyes.

“I only want to talk to you,” he explained, “but I’d rather not hang out in the lobby in shorts.”

“I see.” She still seemed uncomfortable.

“I’m not asking you up to see my etchings.”

“Oh, well.” She summoned a smile. “Too bad. I’ve always wondered what etchings looked like.”

They’d arrived. He led the way along the empty hallway to his door, glad for once that the hotel wasn’t fully booked. It gave them a semblance of privacy.

“Here we are.” They entered his chic sitting room, furnished in subdued grays, tans and walnut brown. “Do you mind waiting while I take a shower?” He pushed aside the louvered doors of the kitchenette. “May I offer you a glass of wine?”

“Sparkling water, please.”

He filled a glass with ice cubes and opened a bottle of Perrier.

She walked around the room, hesitating by his desk before moving on. She stopped to gaze at a large abstract painting that evoked a desert sunset. “This artwork is lovely.”

He explained that the penthouse suites were hung with originals from several well-known Southwestern artists, then handed her the glass. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be five minutes.”

This wasn’t the first time he’d had a woman up to his suite, but it was the first time he’d felt so damned nervous about it. Every word out of his mouth sounded completely lame.

The ice rattled. Alice hurriedly took a sip. “No rush.
I’ve got nowhere…I mean, I’m fine.” She dropped onto the couch. “I can wait.”

Maybe he wasn’t the only one feeling inept.

A
S SOON AS
Kyle had disappeared into the next room and Alice heard the shower come on, she bolted over to the telephone on the desk. The message light blinked incessantly.

That rambling, uncertain message! The idea of him listening to it in her presence made her cringe.

Too late. I’m here now.

She took a moment, staring absently around the suite. It was done up in high-style hotel, with dark wood and a nubby almond-colored rug. The curtains had a bold geometric pattern. Everything in its place. But something wasn’t right.

Then she realized what. There were almost no personal possessions. A few books on a shelf, but no photographs. One newspaper on the coffee table, still folded.

She slid open a desk drawer. Pens, pencils, paper clips, rubber bands, stamps, arranged in a teak tray. A sheaf of Oasis stationery and envelopes. A checkbook. The only item out of the ordinary was a green plastic frog on a key chain.

Where was all his
stuff?

She returned to the couch, knotting her hands. She unknotted them, leaned back against the cushions and tried to relax. That was almost impossible. She hadn’t dreaded a conversation so much since she’d met with Stewart to give back his engagement ring. Then, she’d been hurt, humiliated…pretty well destroyed.

In her perfect version of that meeting, Stewart would have gone back to his new fiancée with a black eye. Or
at least had a drink dumped over his head. But in reality, she’d cried. He’d hugged her and patted her shoulder, said she’d find someone else.

Alice tilted her head back, breathing through her nose. To find, one must seek. She hadn’t wanted to. Instead, she’d buried herself away on Osprey Island, the most familiar and comforting place in the world.

Sounds came from the bedroom. A door shutting, a drawer opening. Maybe he had a closet jam-packed with junk, but she doubted it.

Alice sat forward.
After six years, you damn well better be ready to seek.

She put on a bright expression to greet Kyle as he walked into the room. “You look refreshed,” she said. His damp hair was attractively disheveled. He wore a white polo shirt untucked over a pair of faded jeans. Bare feet. Very sexy.

“I feel good,” he said, getting a drink for himself. “Working out is my release after a long day.”

“I usually watch Johnny Depp movies.”

He dropped ice cubes into a tumbler. “You like pirates?”

“Yes, but
Benny and Joon
is my favorite.”

Kyle walked toward her, his feet silent on the rug. “I don’t know that one.”

She knew she had to speak, but her mouth seemed to be full of rocks. She swallowed. “Um, Kyle. I should probably tell you—”

“Hold that thought. I just need to check my messages.” He picked up the phone, pressed a button and started to say, “In case of any emergencies,” before he stopped to smile. “You left me one.”

At least that had pleased him. She watched his face
while he listened, unable to look away, even when his eyes darkened and his expression became serious.

“Well.” He put down the phone. “Looks like we’re on the same track.”

“We are?”

“I was going to come and find you, but then I saw you in the lobby.”

“Why?”

“I was on my way up from the…Oh. You mean why did I want to find you?”

Her hands wanted to fiddle. She folded them in her lap.
Composure,
she told herself.
This
conversation, she’d be the cool one. “Yes. I think we need to lay our cards on the table, as they say.”

Kyle sat in a chair across from her, slumped low with his long legs sprawled out. He grazed a knuckle under his chin. “This isn’t about gambling.”

“It’s not? I beg to differ.”

He slitted his eyes.

“The risk’s not mine,” she said, intending to refer only to the hotel fraternization code. But as soon as the words were out, she saw that she was also taking a risk. Somehow, without her knowing it, her heart, which Stewart had broken, had healed. Finally, she dared offer it to another man.

Sort of. Her departure date was still her safety hatch.

“You’re, uh, the one with rules to follow,” she concluded.

Kyle nodded. “It’s worse than you know. I have a performance review coming up next week. A team from PM headquarters is arriving to evaluate the resort and the job I’ve done as manager. If the report is excellent, I’ll be promoted to executive VP at corporate headquarters.”

“Oh. My.”

“So, you see, I can’t afford a single misstep.”

She frowned. “And I’d be a misstep.”

“Not necessarily.”

“I don’t see how not.”

“If we’re friends.”

“Of course. Just friends.”

“Like your message said.”

Good. Let’s ignore that last part, just as we’re ignoring our very un-friend-like kiss.

“Yes, my message.” She lowered her eyes, then spoke so quickly her voice came out raw. “Did you hear the whole thing?”

Kyle tipped his glass from side to side, watching the liquid slosh. “You were cut off.”

“Yes, well, what I was about to say was that I wouldn’t mind being more than friends.” She met his gaze. “We could have a romance. Or should I say, an affair. A short-term affair.” Now that was what was called laying her cards on the table, even though her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. “No one would have to know. It could be a secret. Like our kiss.”

His hand tightened on the tumbler. She thought the glass might break, but he reached forward and set it on the coffee table. His eyes never left hers. “That’s a bold offer.”

She matched his restraint. “That’s a noncommittal response.”

His chuckle rasped. “Yes, isn’t it? I’m not sure what to say.”

“You must have had offers before.”

“Yeah, but not from…” He waved a hand at her.

Her temper flared. “My type.”

“You’re not my
usual
type.”

“That’s unfortunate,” she said, still treading carefully. But what for? If she was going to do this, she really had to go for it.

She lifted her chin. “Because you are
my
type.”

Kyle leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

How could he be so constrained when she was telling him that she wanted him? Did he not care? The humiliation of that made her think of Stewart. “You remind me of my ex-fiancé.”

He frowned. “That doesn’t sound flattering.”

“Well, he was ambitious, too. I don’t mind ambition, if it doesn’t take over every aspect of a person’s life.” She stared. “Has yours?”

“Do you really care?”

“Of course I care.”

“Then why offer me an affair?”

She looked away.

“A short-term affair,” he added, deliberately repeating her words.

She cleared her throat. “I thought that’s all you’re interested in.”

He nodded. “Maybe so. From my
usual
type.”

“Oh, yeah? It’s so different with me? Because I’m—I’m—”

The phone rang, mercifully preventing her from continuing.

“You’ve become someone special to me, Alice,” Kyle said as he went to answer the phone. “Don’t sell yourself short.” He picked up, but concluded the call with a quick, “Yes, thanks.”

He turned slowly, his expression thoughtful. “I’m sorry, but I have to go. There’s a large group arriving—
magazine editors, a photographer. They’re staging a photo shoot at the resort. I’ve got to greet them.”

“Yes. I understand.” Alice edged toward the door. “No problem. I’ll go.” Part of her wanted to run. Another part of her was frustrated by the interruption. She needed to know, for good or bad, what Kyle thought about her. The comment about her being “special” to him wasn’t enough. It sounded too much like there should be a
but
after it.

A
but
followed by a
goodbye.

Except…there was still the way he’d kissed her during the monsoon. That kiss hadn’t been a goodbye. It’d been a hello.

“Please wait,” he said, getting his shoes. “I’ll walk you down.”

“It’s all right if you’re seen with me?”

“It’s fine.”

“They know at the front desk that I called you.”

“Right.” Kyle frowned as he came back into the room. He’d put on a navy blue sports coat, too, and suddenly seemed more like the Mr. Jarreau she’d first met. “Wait’ll the grapevine gets a hold of that.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Never mind. It’ll give them a distraction.”

“The thing is…” she began as he ushered her out the door. Whether it was his reassumed professionalism or the fact that she was ashamed of her behavior, especially the impulsive come-on, she was beginning to think she’d made a grave mistake.

After ringing for the elevator, Kyle turned to look at her. She had to finish.

“The thing is,” she said, “I also called Denver.”