Taken (14 page)
Your fingers slide from between mine as you sit back in your chair. “She talks to him. She wasn’t very active in the company when he started demanding money, so it didn’t affect her like it has me.”
“Does it bother you that she talks to him?”
You sit forward again and lean your elbows on your knees, careful to not make eye contact with me. “I don’t want her to pick sides. It’s best if she stays out of it.”
“But does it
bother you
, Merrick?”
You sigh and furiously rub the back of your head. “I was the one who took care of her—the one who has always taken care of her. Even after she got married, I…”
“You what? Took care of her better than her husband?”
“Yes. Don’t get me wrong, the guy loves her. I know that. But she’s got herself a younger version of my father. He doesn’t show her a lot of affection, and I hate to see her begging for it. God, it’s like some kind of mind-fuck just watching her wrestle with herself over holding his hand or touching his arm. Can’t he just reach out and take her hand? Would it kill him to show her he loves her?”
You lean back and bring your hands down, squeezing your knees. Pain sears your eyes. “Can’t someone be on my side for once? Someone I don’t sign a paycheck for? Am I that bad?”
My heart clenches. Words pool on my tongue.
I’ll be on your side.
But how can I say them? How can I think them? Are you that bad? I don’t know what you’re capable of, where your limits lay.
I can’t take seeing you like this. “I’ll make breakfast,” I say, standing and collecting my coffee mug and fruit dish.
“No.” You shift to your feet and try to take the bowl from me. “I was planning on it. It’s no problem. I want to.”
“Let me. Please.” I need to do something for you. I can’t promise to be on your side. Not yet. But, I need to give you something—make a gesture to ease you.
A helicopter flies over, followed by another. “Sounds like you’re going to be needed outside of the kitchen,” I say, pulling the fruit dish back from your fingers. “You might trust Joan with all of the details, but I just met her. I’d be more comfortable knowing you were there to oversee things. I’ll be here making breakfast.” You won’t refuse a request if it’s about the renovations. You put me in charge after all.
A smile slips across your lips and you narrow your dark, brooding eyes. “That’s a very sneaky tactic, Miss DeSalvo.”
“It’s called strategy, Mr. Rocha.”
Your laugh shakes any remaining anguish from your expression. “You are the boss. I’ll go and make sure everything is on schedule, but I won’t be gone long. Don’t get comfortable being without me.”
As you take the path through the gate, I step inside the hotel, and I puzzle at your last words.
Don’t get comfortable being without me.
Are you afraid to leave me alone? Afraid my thoughts of how crazy this situation is will get the better of me? If you hadn’t infiltrated my every waking hour, there’s a good chance I would’ve taken you up on your offer to take me back home.
You’ve muscled your way in. I feel the separation now that I’m here by myself, footsteps echoing down this hallway into an empty kitchen. I’m anxious for you to come back and fill the space with—you. With your smile and energy, your voice and laughter.
God, help me. I’m falling for you. How did I allow you under my skin like this? How can I get you out? A niggling in my brain goes off like a small alarm. I don’t want to get you out of my system.
I like you in here.
Chapter Ten
More than an hour has passed and I’ve got enough eggs and bacon staying warm in the oven for all of the crew and Joan—if she even eats. Given her size, it’s debatable.
There’s no broom in the hotel that I can find, so I’ve broken down a cardboard box and use it to sweep the shards of glass on the entryway floor into a pile in the corner. Two large suitcases sit right inside the kitchen that I ignore, certain my new wardrobe is folded neatly inside them. I’m not eager to accept it. Then again, it isn’t like accepting charity—you brought me here with no clothes.
What type of clothing would Joan pick out for me? I can only imagine. I’m going to be renovating an historic hotel in stilettos and spaghetti straps with a thong riding up my ass. If that’s the case, I’m sticking to wearing your clothes.
“Hey,” you say, strolling in behind me, “what are you doing? I’ll get that. The crew brought a broom and all the tools we’ll need to start working around this place.” You’re bare from the waist up, damp and glistening from the sun and practically glowing. “I rescued something just in time.” You step back and peer down the hall toward the lounge, then beckon someone with your hand.
Two men lumber into the entryway hauling a long wooden beam. I spy the etched heart with two sets of initials inside and recognize it immediately. “Thank God you remembered!” I rush forward and run my fingertips over the heart. “This can never get lost.”
Your smile is enormous, and you rock up on your toes with your hands shoved into the pockets of your faded jeans that fit every sculpted muscle. “I get the important things right, Rachael.”
Not sure how to respond, I only blink a few times before turning to the men holding the beam. “Please, lean it against the wall and come have some breakfast. I’ve made enough for everyone,” I say, turning to Merrick. “Will you go get them?”
You rub the back of your neck. “I’m sure they ate before they arrived. We should really get them going on the cabana.”
“Let’s call it a kick-off meeting then to get everyone on the same page. Please go get them.” I’m not wasting the food I made and the time I put into preparing it. I’m trying to do something nice, don’t you realize?
You’re hesitant. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” You nod toward the stairs.
Why do you have to over think this? “What?”
You nod again, and I follow you halfway up the steps. Stopping, you take my hand. Your face is focused, eyes dark and gleaming with power. “Don’t blur the line between employer and friend with these guys.”
“Like you and Joan?” The words tumble out, and I want to scoop them up and shove them back in, but I can’t.
You jerk back, shocked and quirk an eyebrow. Are you amused? “I mean it. They’ll take advantage of the situation if they can and screw off. You have to stay on top of them.” Your lips twist. “Not literally though, please. I’ll end up as jealous of the crew as you seem to be of Joan.” A sly, sexy grin forms on your lips.
“Why would I ever be jealous of Joan?” I spin on my heel, but before I can take one step down the stairs, you’ve got me by the shoulders.
“You shouldn’t ever be jealous of Joan,” you say, your mouth close to my ear, your warm breath tickling my neck. “You’re all I want.”
I shouldn’t ask. It’s none of my business, but I have to know. “Have you been with her?”
You squeeze my shoulders, and I’m so tense, it hurts. “Physically, yes. Emotionally, no.”
My eyes squeeze shut. “Recently?”
“Define recent.” Your fingers tighten on my shoulders again. Your thumbs dig into my back and massage.
“I don’t think I need to. You’ve just answered my question.” I push your hands off of me and stride down the stairs. The woman you’re involved with knows every detail of your life—plans every detail of your life. Now she’s here. How nice for you.
I storm into the kitchen and fling the oven door open. Grabbing a pot holder, I yank the baking sheets and casserole dishes out and slam them onto the marble island.
Fucking asshole.
Why would you bring me here if you’re with her? Why would you make me start to have feelings…?
Fucking asshole!
“Guys,” I hear you say out in the entryway, “go get the rest of the crew and tell them Miss DeSalvo has called a breakfast meeting.”
Work boots clomp away, and even if I don’t hear you come in, I can feel your presence in the kitchen with me. “Rachael, what do you want me to say? I didn’t expect you to react this way.”
“I’m not reacting any way. Just getting things ready for the meeting.” If you come near me right now, I’ll kill you. I can’t even look at you or I’ll throw something at your head.
You take two hesitant steps toward me. “This isn’t reacting?”
My eyes dart to yours. I feel mine blazing as if they could shoot lasers. “You’ll know when I’m reacting, Merrick. Trust me.” My finger slips off of the potholder and scorches onto a glass casserole dish. “Ow!”
You dart forward and grab my hand. “Under cold water. Now.”
I yank my hand away. “Don’t tell me what to do!”
Your fingers clamp over my wrist. Now your eyes could shoot lasers. “Stop.” You wrap your other arm around my waist and lead me to the sink. “You’re so damn stubborn.”
“You’re--” I clench my teeth. “A lot of things.”
A bark of laughter shoots out of you. “A lot of bad things?”
“Mostly.”
You hold my hand under ice cold water and rest your chin on my shoulder. “Not all bad things I hope.”
“Right now, I’m struggling to think of something good.”
“It was only sex. She means nothing to me. I haven’t been with her since the day I interviewed you on the phone. I haven’t wanted anyone else since then.”
I huff. “I don’t believe that.”
You spin me around and lower your head so we’re eye-to-eye, our noses almost touching. “Believe it.”
I breathe you in. My eyelids fall to half-mast, heavy with desire. “Prove it,” I whisper.
The tip of your nose caresses mine. “How?”
“Find a way.”
The noisy conversation of a group of men and boots clomping toward the kitchen makes us straighten and step apart. I catch my breath, watching your eyes go from blazing hot with arousal to a more natural warm. “Your men have arrived, Miss DeSalvo.”
“My men,” I mutter, my mind rattled. “Right.”
You smile and your eyes crinkle at the corners. “Need a minute to collect yourself? I can get this started.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t.” Your lips brush mine.
“I want to.”
“I know.” Your stroke my cheek with the back of your hand. “I’m glad you don’t though.”
A feminine, “Ehem,” breaks our contact. “Are we interrupting?” Joan wears a toxic, irritated expression. “We were told you wanted to meet with us, Rachael.” She says my name like it’s poison rolling off her red lips.
“Yes.” Taking her in, a tremor runs though me. She’s been with you.
Your hand presses against the small of my back. “Have a seat everyone,” you say. “There are some chairs—feel free to sit on the counters. I’m afraid we don’t have enough seating for everyone.”
“This will need to be fast.” Joan flips through her planner. “We don’t have time to indulge in unscheduled breakfast meetings.”
“We have time to indulge in whatever Miss DeSalvo wishes us to indulge in.” Your voice is full of threat. She’s treading the line. She sniffs and tilts her chin in the air, but doesn’t respond.
I open the cupboard and haul out an armful of plates. “Go ahead and get some food. I want to thank you all for coming on such short notice.” Joan’s eyes pop to the size of silver dollars like treating the work crew like human beings is simply not heard of. “There’s a lot to do around here. When it’s finished, I hope you will all come back with your loved ones and enjoy it.” I glance at you out of the corner of my eye. “On the company, of course, as a way of saying thank you.”
The men start commenting to each other about how awesome a free vacation will be and thanking me as they fill their plates.
Beside me, you stiffen and raise a hand. “Given we meet our deadline for renovations. It won’t be easy.”
“I’m sure we’ll make it,” I say, cutting you off. You want me in charge; you’ve got me in charge. “I’m sure Joan has shown you the plans for the pool area and cabana. Once that’s complete, you’ll start on the hotel.”
“They’ve seen the blueprints, Rachael,” Joan says, speaking to me like I’m a child. “They know what to do.”
“Good. What will you be doing then?” I tilt my head and raise my eyebrows. “Are you their supervisor, or is there one on the crew? A foreman maybe?”
You cough beside me then turn to the sink and grab a glass for water. I think you might be choking on my words. The clink of silverware and dull mumble of the men stops.
“Overseeing the process,” she says, her words as cold and smooth as steel.
“When you’re not
overseeing the process
?” I say, narrowing my eyes. She will know where she stands with me. “You can help me cook, clean and take the helicopter to the nearest grocery store. I’m sure the men will need a lot of food to keep their energy up.”
Her eyes are calling me a bitch, but her mouth says, “Fine.”
You down a glass of water, but stay turned around, leaned against the sink. Your shoulders shake like you’re laughing. She watches you, and her face flames.
Just like that, I feel terrible for her. Did she know it was only sex? Even if she did, I can tell she wanted more. “Thank you for organizing everything, Joan. I appreciate it.”
“It’s my job,” she says curtly.
“Not cooking and cleaning, so thank you.”
You’ve turned around, and you’re looking at me like I’ve grown a second head in the last thirty seconds. If
your
second head hadn’t led her on, maybe I could be a bitch to her without feeling guilty. I glare at you for a moment before grabbing a plate. “There’s plenty of food, so help yourselves to more. I’m looking forward to getting to know all of you.”
Beside me again at the island, you pick up a fork and tap it in your palm. “Nicely handled.”
“Nothing was handled. It was just a gesture on my part. I want them to like me.”
Your forehead creases. “They don’t have to like you. They have to do what you say, or they don’t get paid.”
“They’ll do more for me if they like me.” I grab your fork to stop your fiddling with it. “You’ve heard the expression: You catch more bees with honey than vinegar, haven’t you?”
“I’m not a beekeeper. I’m a CEO.” You snatch your fork back.
“You’re—a lot of things.”
Your lips twist and you grab a piece of bacon and point it at me. “Honey. I’ll keep that in mind.”
I lean forward and bite the end of your bacon. “You do that.”
You shake your head slightly and lean in to my ear. “These jeans aren’t discrete enough for you to do this to me.”
“Mmm…” I chew and take another bite from the bacon between your fingers.
“You’re making a spectacle of us.”
A man approaches us. His blonde hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and the black lines of a tattoo sneak from under the arm of his t-shirt down his bicep. He’s built—and hot. I blink a few times. You take my hand and squeeze, reminding me who brought me here. Jealous?
“Miss DeSalvo, I’m Beck Tanner, crew foreman. What you’re planning to do here is amazing. We’re all glad to be a part of it.” His eyes are bright, and it’s like there’s a live current running through them. He has so much energy streaming through his veins.
You squeeze my hand again. Feeling threatened?
“Thank you,” I say. “It’s a vigorous schedule. Do you foresee any issues?”
“We’ve discussed the schedule at length,” Joan says, coming forward with a click-clack of her heels. “It will be tight. There might be some issues--”
“With the motivation of a free vacation,” Beck says, cutting her off with a brilliant smile, “there won’t be issues. My guys will work around the clock if they have to. It’s a very generous gift. Thank you.”
“Very generous,” Merrick repeats, stuffing the rest of his bacon into his mouth.
“You’re welcome. Everyone needs incentives.” I lift a baking sheet to Beck. “Toast?”
He takes a piece and tears a bite off, winking at me. “Delicious breakfast, too. I might move into the hotel after the job’s done.”
You inhale a deep breath. “I need to check on something. Do you need me here any longer?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve got it covered.”
“More than covered,” you mumble behind me as you leave.
Joan swivels and follows you out, making my stomach clench. She’s like your shadow, and what’s the deal with the Mr. Moody routine all of a sudden? Like it’s my fault Beck’s a flirt.
“Everything okay?” he asks, watching you and Joan stalk off.
“Just fine.” I give him my most convincing smile, but don’t think he’s convinced.
“If you say so. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll find you later tonight to give you the daily report.”
“Daily report?”
“Just a quick update on our progress. I know Dragon Lady tracks the progress of the projects, but I’d much rather deal with you.” He winks again and turns back to his men.
Dragon Lady. Ha! I want to laugh, but it wouldn’t be professional. I probably should’ve stuck up for her and asked him not to call her that again. Probably—but didn’t—oh well.
Not finding you anywhere in the hotel, I wander outside. My hands are pruney from washing a million dishes, and my finger has a blister on it where it’s burned.
I follow the path to the pool. The tall grass and vines along the trail have been cut back with a weed whacker. I still hear it humming in the distance. I guess it would be easier to carry equipment and supplies through here without being tripped up by Mother Nature.
The crew comes into view, tearing down the roof of the covered cloister where you and I swung in the hammock. I wonder what you did with the rope hammock. I hope you saved it.
A radio blares, hammers pound, saws buzz. Shirtless men in cut-off shorts toss scraps of wood into a pile and take measurements. Joan sits cross-legged in a lawn chair in the shade talking on her cell phone, but you’re nowhere in sight.
“Hey! Miss DeSalvo!” Beck calls from up on a ladder. He nods his head farther down the trail. “I believe you’ll find what you’re looking for by the water.” He shoots me his trademark wink.
“Thanks!” I square my shoulders and walk past Joan, who doesn’t bother looking up at me.
It’s sweltering under the direct sun beating down on my head and shoulders. Bees drift lazily over wildflowers, and I think about my comment to you—how you’ll try to remember to be more honey-like.
You’re very honey-like around me. I understand your reluctance to let your charming side show in business relationships, but you honestly have no idea how to deal with people in your personal life. Honey would help all around.
Between two trees by the water, you lie in the hammock reading papers and gently swinging.
I stop walking and study you—so calm and relaxed—looking nothing like a billionaire business god with your hair blowing back and your chest bare. I could’ve never picked you out in a crowd—didn’t in fact.
You glace up and meet my eyes. “Are you stalking me?”
“I can only aspire to one day be as good of a stalker as you.”
You smirk. “I would say you’re too nice, but after putting Joan in her place, I think you just might have it in you after all.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” She’s your employee, not mine.
You shrug. “She has thick skin. I’m sure she’s over it.”
“Thick skin from working with you?” I walk toward you, running my palm of the tops of tall grass and flowers.
“It’s a requirement. I don’t like to worry about offending people.”
I reach you and weave my fingers through the rope hammock. “What about the honey?”
You roll your eyes, and I shove the hammock with all my strength, sending you swinging. “Okay!” You laugh. “I said I’d try for more honey, less vinegar. That’s what I’ll do.”
When the hammock swings back toward me, you grab me around the waist and pull me on top of you. “Hey!” We’re both laughing and swinging, and I snuggle in beside you, into the crook of your arm with my head on your chest. “You weren’t mad about Beck, were you?”
“Why would I be mad? I have no right to be mad—no claim over you.”
The heat from your chest warms my cheek. “You kept squeezing my hand.”
“I wanted to remind you I was there.”
“You were right beside me.”
“He was flirting. You were flirting back.”
I push up to look at you. “I was not flirting back. He’s our foreman. It would be unprofessional.”
Your eyes graze my face—over my cheeks, across my lips, down my neck and back to my eyes. “What if he wasn’t the foreman, or anyone working for you?”
“What are you asking me?”
Your lips tighten into a firm line. “Nothing.”
“It’s something. I can tell.” I brush a film of sawdust off your chest. Your muscles contract under my fingers.
Your nose nuzzles into my hair. “Does this mean I get to touch your chest, too?”
“Sure, if you’re brushing off sawdust.”
“You know I’m going to be up all night thinking of ways to get you covered in sawdust.” Your finger trails down my arm, bringing up goose bumps despite the temperature.
Speaking of tonight… “Where is everyone going to sleep? We should probably get some rooms ready.”
“So eager to leave me?” You trail your finger up and down my arm again. “I need to get a domestic out here.”
“A domestic? Like a maid?”
“Maid, cook, grounds keeper. I’ll tell Joan to place employment ads and we’ll start interviewing this week.”
“I can handle it. We don’t need someone right away.”
“I don’t want you handling it. You’re the boss, not the one scrubbing toilets.” You kiss my forehead, then guide it back down onto your chest. “I already miss it being just the two of us out here.”
I smile. “It’s only been a few hours.”
“I know. Maybe we can just leave the place in ruins and make them all go home.”
I prop my chin on my hands and glance up at you. “You know you don’t want to do that.”
You tap the tip of my nose. “No. I guess not.” You sigh. “It’s so much easier when it’s only the two of us. No arguments about past partners. No jealously over potentially flirtatious acts with foremen.”
“You mean no real life.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re dangerously close to becoming a hermit.”