Burned Deep (12 page)

Baby.

I swallowed hard. Had I heard that right?

Baby. Ari.
Yeah, there was no mistaking one for the other. Unless my mind was playing tricks on me and I'd wanted to hear the term of endearment.

But, no. That wouldn't be like me at all.

I said, “Travel safe.” And ended the call before I dropped the phone as panic seized me.

I hurried about, dressing in my favorite black suit and the new heels. All the while, I kept wondering,
Are we … dating?

I tried to focus on anything other than the staggering situation I was suddenly embroiled in as I drove to the resort. Dane had been right about Lux security. The gate was heavily guarded and I had to show two forms of ID and let them jot down my license plate number. Then I traveled to the entrance and Brandon was there to valet-park my SUV. 10,000 Lux was no less intimidating the second time around.

Inside, a fortysomething blonde whom I easily dwarfed greeted me.

“Patricia Lansing,” she said in a clipped manner. “Vice President of HR. Mr. Bax said you'd be expecting me.”

“Yes, of course. Paperwork and whatnot.”

“There's a lot of the ‘whatnot,'” she told me with a tight smile. “Mr. Bax is very thorough, and security is of utmost importance here. I'll take you straight to the clearance office so they can issue your personalized electronic badge. You'll need it to access the floors of the west wing, where all of the offices are located. The east wing is strictly suites and the penthouses. The conference center is located on the south lawns, but Amano will be the one to give you the tour of the resort, per Mr. Bax's request.”

“Okay.” I was already overwhelmed and I'd been here less than ten minutes.

“Also, you need the badge to access the top floor from inside the stairwell, and for your office door. You can leave it open when you're in there, but Mr. Bax insists the doors are all closed when you leave, even if it's just to visit the ladies' room. And your card will only get you into the reception areas of each department, not individual offices.”

Super-duper tight security. Interesting. But then again, he'd told me everything related to the grand opening was confidential, so I was sure he didn't want anyone unauthorized rifling through files.

Once I'd signed for the photo ID card and various security forms, we went to the fourth floor and swiped our badges to pass through a door that opened to an inner sanctum for HR and Legal. All overly opulent and pristine.

In a conference room, there were dozens of papers spread out on the oval mahogany table.

Patricia introduced me to Margo Tomlin, General Counsel, and she explained about the contracts, no-compete clauses, nondisclosure statements, conflict of interest documents … the list went on and on. Patricia covered all the benefits information, payroll, and tax forms. My head spun. Then they collected up the tall stack and handed it over.

Margo said, “You'll want to read everything carefully before you sign.”

“In blood?” I quipped. Seriously … this was
a lot.

The two VPs exchanged a look. Neither smiled at my joke.

“Mr. Bax told me you've already seen your office, so you know where it's located.” This from Patricia.

“Right across the hall.”

“And your staff will be one floor down, once hired. See Margo or myself if you have questions or need anything.”

“Thank you.”

I left them and balanced the paperwork as I flashed my electronic card against the reader to gain access to my office. I dumped my armful on the desk and surveyed my surroundings. Everything was exactly as it'd been the first time I'd walked in with Dane.

That memory came rushing back. My cheeks burned and my insides ignited as I thought of the racy words he'd whispered against my neck. The man was scandalous. And I was already addicted to his devilish side.

My gaze roved the room, landing on the huge all-white bouquet in the middle of the coffee table. Okay, that was new. Spying the small envelope alongside the elegant vase, I snatched it up and pulled out the card.

Next time, I want to hear you say my name when I make you come.… Dane

I fanned my face with the card.
Next time.
Oh, boy.

I tucked the missive into my purse and returned to the desk. As I eased into the gorgeous white leather chair, a roaring sense of
Oh, my God, I'm really doing this!
washed over me.

My stomach churned at the same time adrenaline pumped through my veins. My palms were a little clammy as I reached for the decorative gift box on the leather blotter. I pulled the satin ribbon and opened the long, narrow box. Inside was the same type of Montblanc fountain pen Dane had tried to lend me at El Rincon. Only, instead of initials, the inscription read:
10,000 Lux
.

Must be a signing bonus—apropos, given the endless amount of paperwork to which I'd have to add my John Hancock.

I read the accompanying card, this one appropriate for our
professional
association.

Welcome to the Lux, Miss DeMille. Thank you for helping us to make the resort a success.
Dane B. Bax, Owner

I stared at that last word.

This dual predicament sent a tickle down my spine. Turned out, I found having a little something covert on the side exciting. Except that it was my boss I played this wicked game with—detrimental to both me and my career.

I didn't have time to dwell on that perilous thought, though. I had forms and policies to read, and then the resort tour, taken mostly by golf cart. I was exhausted by the time I got home. As I fell into bed later, my phone jingled from its perch on the nightstand, signaling an incoming text.

It was Dane. I smiled.

How was your first day?

I typed:
Busy. And my hand is cramped from signing my name so many times. Seriously?

I don't like anything falling through the cracks.

Not a surprise when it came to him. I texted:
Thanks for the flowers. They're spectacular.

So are you. Now go to sleep. You have an even busier week ahead of you.

With a nod he obviously couldn't see, I wrote:
I suspected as much.

Sweet dreams.

Clearly, I found it impossible not to nibble on the lure.

You, too. Whenever it is that you sleep.

I returned the phone to the nightstand, drifting off with thoughts of Dane and 10,000 Lux racing through my head.

*   *   *

The week was a blur of activity. There were so many people to meet, so many different offices to try to find, so many things to learn about hotel life and how everything worked. Then there were the multitude of discussions on all of the opening events, guest lists, and planning to be handled. I was utterly brain fried—now understanding why my brides always stared at me with deer-in-the-headlights, glassed-over eyes during their initial consultation. The tables had been turned.

Dane called on Wednesday night, but I missed his call, because I was dead asleep. He texted, concerned. I immediately replied when I woke in the morning, telling him I was basically a zombie at this point but really, really excited. I didn't hear back, likely because it was the middle of the night for him.

On Thursday afternoon, I inspected the conference space and grand ballroom—and by
grand
I meant absolutely breathtaking. I stood in the center of the enormous room, envisioning black-and-white galas held under the glittery rays of chandeliers that sparkled like diamonds.

I'd been told by someone in Engineering that the artistically painted panes covering the domed ceiling could be diffused with the touch of a button to reveal a crystal-clear night sky. Or a stellar blue afternoon. Whatever. It was totally over-the-top. No surprise there.

I left with that overwhelming feeling I couldn't seem to shake when I was on-property. Down the wide Italian marble corridor, also lined with gorgeous chandeliers, I located the media room, beautifully laid out, all the equpiment and controls marked with their corresponding conference rooms. Nothing was on, and I was tempted to power up, because that panel was clearly labeled as well.

Eyeing the switches for the ballroom, I wanted to test the sound system. I liked to know well in advance how the acoustics were and the level of clarity of the speakers. My fingers itched to give it all a whirl.

But my good sense won out—what if I fucked something up? Dane had enough on his hands. No need to add media operational issues to the list.

I'd wait and ask the A-V guys to walk me through it all. They'd handle events, but it'd be helpful to have the knowledge in case of emergencies.

Tearing my gaze from the even more tempting remote panels nestled in their wall-mounted docking stations, which
were
powered on, I reached for the lever on the door, ready to head back to my office. I gave it a tug, but the door stuck. That happened sometimes at my townhome, when there was a lot of humidity in the air. The wood would swell and fill the door frame.

I pulled a little harder. Behind me, I heard a
thump
. Moments later, there was a strange crackle in the air.

I moved away from the door and surveyed the equipment again.

Another buzzing, hissing noise and my brow furrowed. I got down on my hands and knees, following the sound. Under a narrow table stacked high with opened boxes filled to the brim with packing slips and materials—and more were tucked under a portion of the table—I spied a panel of multiple outlets.

And, above it, I fixated on the stream of water flowing from a small hole down the wall that led to the plugs.

A spark made me gasp. A heartbeat later, a sharp sizzle had me jumping to my feet. The lights in the room flickered, then shorted out, making me panic. The remote units remained aglow, obviously holding a charge, though their docking station indicators dimmed. I had enough illumination to find the door. I yanked on the lever with force. The door flew open—just as the sparks ignited the twisted brown paper overflowing from the boxes.

Shit!

I barreled into the hallway and yelled, “Fire!”

One of the Electrical staff was close at hand—and instantly on his radio. A flurry of activity ensued with more staff rushing toward us, fire extinquishers at the ready. Before I knew it, Amano was at my side, ushering me out of the conference center.

My pulse raged. My chest heaved. Within seconds he had me in a golf cart speeding toward the main building.

“There was water leaking down the wall,” I told him.

He got on his own radio and relayed the information. By the time we reached the lobby, it was reported to him that the flames were out and they'd never gotten high enough to cause much damage or—thankfully—set off the sprinklers. I thought of all that media equipment and the extreme expense of replacing it and breathed a sigh of relief.

“So, what happened?” I asked, still reeling.

“Just a leak from one of the pipes.”

His normally stoic features appeared uncharacteristically tense. I studied him a few moments before he directed me to the bank of elevators.

He said, “I'll escort you upstairs. Why don't you stick close to your office this afternoon? You look a little pale.”

I pulled in a few deep breaths, then told him, “The door was stuck. I think the humidity made the wood swell.”

“I'll look into it.”

Why did that sound so … cryptic? Like he didn't believe that had been the cause of the jammed door?

He walked with me to my office. I swiped my badge and entered. He asked, “Are you okay?”

“Sure. That was just a little…”
Terrifying.
“Unexpected.”

“There are bound to be some mishaps here and there, while we work out all the kinks and get everything running smoothly. Lots of trial and error before the grand opening.”

“I get it. This is a huge project. Lots of bumps in the road.”

Though I found it hard to shrug off the fact that I'd almost been trapped in a room about to go up in flames.

“Why don't you sit for a while, have some cold water?” he suggested. “Get your color back.”

“Good idea.” I gave him a weak smile. I was still jittery, still breathing heavily.

“If you decide to check out the sights again, let me know. I'll take you around.”

“Amano. You have plenty to do. No need to babysit me. It was a fluke and I'm okay. In fact, it'd be all right with me if you didn't mention this to Mr. Bax.”

His brow crooked—a total
as if
look crossed his face.

“Right,” I grumbled. “Wishful thinking on my part.”

“Let me know if you plan to leave the building.” He disappeared.

I would have spent the rest of the afternoon dreading the big deal Dane would make of this except that he called less than ten minutes later.

“Why didn't you tell me what happened?” he asked—demanded? I couldn't tell. He sounded worried, angry, and irritated all at once.

“I had a feeling you'd hear about it from Amano within two seconds of him leaving my office.”

“I did.”

“So, you have the full scoop. What else was I going to disturb your day to say?”

“Naturally, I want to know about any issues with the hotel,” he informed me in a tight voice. “Especially when they involve an employee.”

I ventured to ask, “And when that employee is me…?”

“Then I want to know immediately—from you. Amano can only tell me what happened. And that it appeared to shake you up. Are you okay?”

I thought back to the bar, after Dane had rescued me from the blond with the diamondback tattoo. He'd wanted to know if I was all right—like it meant something to him. I had a feeling it did. A bit more now that we knew each other better.