Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) Page 4

  Don’t think about it, Nolan. You have six couples here, that’s all. If the place was full there’d be plenty of action at the pool.

  But I don’t believe it. I just don’t believe it.

  I go through the gate that separates the residence section from the hotel and I’m already taking my suit coat off before I even get inside. I throw it over the couch, the briefcase follows, and I go to work on my dress shirt.

  Two minutes later I’m wearing swimming trunks and diving into the private pool in front of the cabanas.

  When I come up for air I look straight at Ivy Rockwell in a bright yellow bikini.

  I flash her a Romantic grin out of habit, then catch myself and let it fall into a frown. “I’m glad you’re having a nice afternoon at the resort, Miss Rockwell.”

  She lowers her white sunglasses and peers down her nose at me. “I’m testing out the facilities, Mr. Delaney. The misters are off-target and the pool water is too hot.”

  “Is that so?” I ask, swimming over towards her lounge chair. “Feels good to me.”

  “That’s because you just got out of that stifling suit. But if you were me, sitting in this chair, aching for a refreshing dunk to cool down, you’d know better. Because I was thoroughly disappointed when I dove in ten minutes ago.”

  I stand up in the pool—the depth is only three feet. And as the water rushes down my chest, I don’t miss the fact that her eyes follow those little droplets all the way down to my dick. She recovers quickly, and her eyes find mine again.

  “Furthermore—”

  “Are you trying to impress me with your analysis, Miss Rockwell?”

  “Furthermore,” she repeats, “the AC in my cabana”—she nods her head behind her—“isn’t up to par with what one might expect when it’s a hundred and thirteen degrees outside. It only goes down to sixty-seven.”

  “Sixty-seven isn’t cool enough for you, Miss Rockwell?”

  “Hardly, Mr. Delaney. I’d like it to be sixty-six. But I can’t adjust it. Well, I can. But it doesn’t get any cooler because you have some sort of temperature threshold built in to prevent the AC from making it any cooler.”

  “Did you know that they charge you to use the AC in Paris hotels, Miss Rockwell?”

  “I did, actually. I’ve experienced it first-hand. But we’re not in France, Mr. Delaney. We’re in the United States. And people expect the freedom to choose their own temperature in a five-star hotel room. Especially,” she continues, “when it’s a hundred and thirteen degrees outside.”

  I walk over to the edge of the pool and lean down, resting my chin on my hands. Her feet are right in front of me. Her little toenails are painted yellow, like she was trying to match her suit.

  My gaze travels up her body, lingering on her legs for a moment, before continuing to her breasts, which are spilling out of her top. She shifts her legs, bending one knee into a sexy scissor arrangement, and stares me down.

  “Energy is expensive, Miss Rockwell.”

  “I realize that, Mr. Delaney. But people expect to be comfortable, whatever that word means to them, when they pay top dollar for a room. So my first suggestions would be to retarget the misters, nix the heaters on the pool at night—it’s simply not necessary since the water can’t possibly cool off enough to matter—and lower the threshold on your AC to sixty-two.”

  “Is that your professional opinion?” I ask.

  “It is.”

  I place my hands flat on the concrete and pull myself up and out of the pool, bringing a rush of water with me that splashes onto her perfectly tanned legs. She has to tilt her head up to me now, and I like the way that makes me feel.

  “Thank you for your suggestions,” I say, grinning that grin that drives women crazy. “I’m going to take care of this immediately.”

  “It was my pleasure to help, Mr. Delaney,” she calls. “That’s why I’m here.”

  I shoot her a look over my shoulder and shake my head.

  Don’t do it, Nolan. Don’t start fantasizing about your face between her legs. She’s going home tomorrow no matter what.

  Chapter Six - Ivy

  Holy shit. I did it. I stood up for myself and made an impression on Nolan Delaney. My heart is beating so fast, I need a moment to calm down.

  “Miss Rockwell?”

  Claudette’s voice startles me, and when I look over my shoulder, she’s standing a few feet in front of her cabana, door open wide.

  “Yes?” I say, getting to my feet and wrapping my towel around my waist.

  “I thought I told you not to interact with my brother?”

  “You did, but he approached me. It’s not in my best interest to be rude to the man responsible for choosing the next manager of Hundred Palms Resort when I want the job.”

  “Want the job?” Claudette asks, walking forward a few more paces. “I’ve already explained the situation, Miss Rockwell. You’re not getting the job. You’re here as a favor and nothing more. You’ll be sent home after the meeting tonight.”

  “Probably,” I say, forcing myself to stay brave. Why is Claudette so intimidating? Nolan was far easier to deal with than she is. “But until that happens I’m going to do my best to show that I’m worthy of the position. That I have things to contribute. And that I might just have an opinion that could help this resort.”

  Claudette scowls at me, annoyance all over her face. “It’s two o’clock. The meeting is at six. We’ll finish up at eight. You’ll be on the jet by nine. Don’t get too comfortable.”

  I nod and smile. But I don’t answer. I just walk towards my cabana and go inside.

  When I close the door I’m breathing hard, sweat pouring down my body. And not all of that has to do with the extreme heat.

  I did it.

  A small smile creeps up my face as I replay my first real interaction with Nolan Delaney. He was arrogant, sure. But he wasn’t demeaning. He listened to my assessment and took note on my observations. Which are correct. I was one hundred percent right and he knew it. And maybe the temperature of the rooms and pool water aren’t groundbreaking revelations, but it’s all in the details, right? That’s what makes a resort worthy of five stars.

  I can do this, I decide. I can. I might be right out of school, but I’m smart. I like details. I live for details.

  I quickly change out of my bathing suit and throw on some tan slacks and a silky white blouse that should help keep me cool in this abominable weather. I need more details between now and six o’clock. I need to walk this entire place. See all of it. Come up with a plan. It was dumb luck that I was frustratingly hot when I got to the room and decided to take a swim. Dumb luck that I figured out that the pool water was too hot. And dumb luck that Nolan Delaney came along at just the right moment to hear my complaints about them.

  But I did it.

  I take a deep breath as I dust my face with powder and reapply my eye makeup.

  Nolan Delaney is hot.

  I can’t stop thinking about that pool move. The way his muscles bulged in his arms as he drew himself up and out of the water. The sight of his body when he stood up. The little river of water that fell down over the curve of his chest and the six pack abs. The way he stared at my body, those hypnotic green eyes lingering on my breasts for the briefest of moments.

  He thinks I’m pretty. I can tell.

  But the way Claudette tells it, he probably thinks everyone is pretty. I mean, I am pretty. I’m not strikingly beautiful or anything. But I’m cute. My blonde-brown hair might be just another ordinary color, but my eyes are blue. A blue so light, they almost look gray. People say it’s one of my best features.

  Richard liked my eyes, but does Richard even count? I don’t want to brag, but I was a lot cuter than his last girlfriend. He pointed her out to me enough when we were walking across campus and saw her—all huddled up with her serious friends. She didn’t wear make-up or fashionable clothes like I did. She was one of those people who go to college to join things. Movements and marches. And
she was off-putting any time Richard said hi to her and we were together. Turning up her nose at me like I was some kind of pariah.

  Richard was the one who said I was too pretty for her. She loathed people who took an interest in their appearance.

  Well, I hope she’s happy working for whatever stuffy non-profit she ended up in after finishing her degree. Maybe she and Richard got back together? I haven’t talked to him since I broke up with him before graduation.

  At any rate, the point of this whole thought exercise is that I’m worthy of this job, of Nolan Delaney’s attention, and of things I never thought possible until that very moment when I stood up for myself out at the pool.

  I have what it takes to succeed in this world, regardless of the sheltered life my father wanted for me. And if Claudette is hell bent on getting rid of me ASAP, then what’s the harm with a few flirtatious moments with Mr. Romantic? What’s the harm in testing the waters?

  No, he’s not going to be the one to take my virginity. I sigh, because it would’ve been fun. And there’s no way in hell I’m actually getting this job, especially with Claudette gunning for me to be sent home. But I could make an impression and get a reference.

  Yes, I decide as I exit the cabana. I’m going to scour this resort looking for details that might make all the difference and come up with a plan. With any luck, I’ll walk out of here firmly embedded in Mr. Delaney’s mind.

  I make my way over to the main building and enter the cool back of the lobby. The smell of food being served in the restaurant grabs my attention and I wander over to the hostess station.

  There’s no one there. I wait a few moments before craning my neck at the people in the dining room and get a wave from a server.

  “Seat yourself,” she calls. “We’re not fully staffed yet.”

  I nod and wander through the empty tables, taking a seat at a booth that overlooks the pool. There’s a couple out there. The older gentleman is swimming while his wife looks uncomfortably hot under a large shade umbrella, leaning into the misguided misters.

  Nolan appears, no longer wearing swim trunks. He’s in casual clothes now, like me. Dark slacks with a white shirt. No tie. Sleeves rolled up to reveal is perfectly tanned forearms. He says something to the woman, smiling, as he leans in and redirects the mister so that the water will soothe her skin properly.

  She smiles and says something. Probably a heartfelt thank you. This heat is not good. People still go to Las Vegas and Palm Springs in the summer, but they stay inside. I looked over the amenities book in the cabana before taking my swim. This resort seems to have a lot of outdoor activities and very little to do inside except the spa. No one will want to come here in the summer if that’s all there is to it. I wouldn’t.

  “Hi,” the server says, coming up to my booth. “I’m Elizabeth and I’ll be preparing your food today. I’m still finalizing the menu, but we’re stocked with just about everything, so choose your favorite dish and I’ll whip it up.”

  “Really?” I ask. “Anything?”

  “Pretty much,” Elizabeth says. “I’ve been cooking for about fifteen years now and not much can surprise me.”

  “Hmm,” I say, taking my gaze back to Mr. Delaney out by the pool. I’d like him on my menu. Focus, Ivy. “Where did you work before coming here, Elizabeth?”

  “Oh, I was teaching at a culinary school in New York.”

  “Big change, huh?”

  “Very big.” Elizabeth laughs. “But it’s exciting too.”

  “Well, I’d like something light for now. Maybe you could just give me a nice green salad? Do you have croutons? That’s my favorite part of a salad.”

  “I can make them fresh in just a few minutes. Anything else?”

  “No,” I say, once again distracted by Nolan Delaney. “That’s all.”

  She walks away and leaves me to my thoughts. Which is all aflutter when I notice Nolan making his way inside. I watch him as he stops at the restaurant. Come in here and talk to me, I silently beg.

  He catches my eye and shoots me the same disarming smile from our encounter at the private pool earlier.

  I practically melt. His sister was right. The charm oozes out of him, even from a distance. How does a man with so much negative baggage have the right to be so damn handsome?

  Shit, here he comes. What will I say? I look around nervously, aware that I’ve already pissed off Claudette once this afternoon.

  Be cool, Ivy. Be cool.

  “Miss Rockwell,” Nolan says when he’s close enough to my table to talk in a normal tone.

  “Mr. Delaney,” I say back with a smile. “Your sister doesn’t want me to talk to you. She says you’re quite a player.”

  What the hell, Ivy? That is not the definition of cool!

  “Is that right,” Nolan says, slipping into the booth across from me. “Mind if I sit?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Claudette’s warnings aren’t enough to scare you off?”

  “I’m not afraid of a challenge,” I say back. Smooth, Ivy. Smooth recovery.

  One eyebrow lifts up and his grin becomes lopsided. His expression says, Oh, really? and That’s interesting, at the same time.

  Yes. He’s got all the moves.

  “Mrs. Watters sends her thanks.”

  “Who?” I ask.

  Nolan waves his hand towards the window. “Mrs. Watters. I adjusted her mister and told her you discovered they were misaligned. She is eternally grateful for your attention to detail.”

  “I like to please, Mr. Delaney.” Too late I realize how that sounds. And so does he, because that other eyebrow is raised now, and his expression is one of keen interest.

  “I have to admit, Miss Rockwell, you intrigue me.”

  “How so?” I ask, my heart suddenly beating fast. His gaze goes to my chest, which is heaving as I try to breathe through my mistake. Can he tell that he’s having this effect on me? Can he see how flustered I get when he speaks? When he looks at me?

  “Weston Conrad is an experienced headhunter. He supplies the perfect candidates for the perfect positions in every Fortune 500 company in the US, and many lucrative businesses overseas as well. And yet he sent you.”

  It’s my turn to raise my eyebrows. “You say that like it’s a surprise.”

  “It is, Miss Rockwell. West doesn’t normally make mistakes. I’d ask him what he was thinking but he’s conveniently out of the office today. I have a feeling it was a joke.”

  “A joke?” I can’t stop the sudden anger in time to keep the disgust out of my voice. “I’m not a joke, Mr. Delaney. And your sister has already informed me that this was a pity invitation, so I am expecting to go home very soon. But since you’re forced to see me today, I will give you my expert opinion about your resort.”

  “Is that so?” Nolan says, leaning back in his chair. “Then by all means, commence with said expert opinion.” He waves his hand at me like some sort of king talking to a subject.

  “I’m still making my assessment, Mr. Delaney. You’ll get a full report at the meeting tonight.”

  “Will I?” he asks, grinning like a boy.

  Why is he so fucking handsome? I’d like to slap his face right now. I even picture it in my head, but decide Nolan Delaney would not tolerate that kind of outburst from a woman.

  Stay away from him. Claudette’s voice is in my head.

  I can’t quite decide if she’s exaggerating about his personality or not. But I am certain of one thing. Nolan Delaney is not a man who likes to be fucked with.

  “You will,” I say. “I was right about the misters and the temperature of the pool. I bet you’ve already called engineering and asked that they adjust the threshold on the AC.”

  “I have,” Nolan says. “I know good advice when I hear it. And yours came with proof. It was clever to take a dip in the pool. Especially wearing those few scraps of clothing you’re calling a bathing suit.”

  “It was the only thing I packed, Mr. Delaney. I won’t wear it
again if it distracts you.”

  “It was very distracting, Miss Rockwell,” he says, sliding out of the booth. “But it would be a shame if you weren’t able to enjoy the pool tonight when it’s cooler out. So don’t let me stop you from swimming.”

  “I have it on good authority that I’ll be on a jet back to Rhode Island tonight, Mr. Delaney. So it will hardly matter.”

  “I have it on good authority that you won’t, Miss Rockwell. But if you’d like to scale down the reaction you’ll get when I see you out in my private pool half naked, you can pick up a one-piece suit in the women’s shop on the west end of the hotel and charge it to your room.”

  He makes this little bow with his head and says, “Good day, Ivy. I look forward to the meeting.” And just as he turns he whispers, so low, I might not have been supposed to hear it, “And our midnight swim tonight.”

  I stare at his ass until he disappears out of view. He called me Ivy. He’s flirting with me. But why?

  “Miss Rockwell,” a familiar stuffy voice says from behind me.

  Shit. “Ms. Delaney,” I say, standing up and turning around.

  “Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?” She hisses the words in a whisper through clenched teeth. That sweet perfume smell is there again and I realize I hate it. I might even hate her.

  “Uh… no.”

  “Then why can’t you follow my simple instructions? I already told you not to interact with my brother. How much clearer can I make it?”

  “He came up to me. Sat down uninvited. What do you propose I do? Blow my chances at this job by telling him to get lost?”

  “We’ve already discussed this—”

  “We have, Ms. Delaney. And I’m done discussing it. Your threats are highly inappropriate. I’m here as an applicant, on Mr. Delaney’s request. How that got screwed up and these silly details about your friend the headhunter are not my concern. I’m here and I’m applying for this job. End of discussion.”

  “For now,” Claudette snaps.

  “For now,” I agree.