Date With a Diva

by Joanne Rock

  “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it looks like your kitchen is going to be out of commission for a while.” The young fire chief tugged off her helmet, revealing a long dark braid and concerned expression.

  “The exterior walls look sound, but there’s a hole in the floor and most of the countertop with the main appliances is completely demolished. We’ve got two casualties back there with broken limbs, but no fatalities.”

  No fatalities.

  The words put the whole situation into perspective. Lainie should be relieved there were no fatalities. And she was, damn it. She just hadn’t fully grasped how serious this situation might have been.

  “Has anyone called the police?”

  “Done.” Nico spoke up this time, jaw clenched as he took in the chaos all around them. “I called them on my way down here and I thought I saw a squad car pull up a minute ago.”

  The fire chief nodded, shoving her helmet under one arm. “They’ll need to speak to me first, but no doubt they’ll seek you out afterward.”

  She took off through the crowded lobby, easing around dazed hotel guests in her heavy boots.

  “They’ll want to know about Flynn’s call.” Nico pitched his cell phone from hand to hand, restless with caged anger. “You want me to get you a Coke? Shoehorn people back to their rooms? Help Brianne? Jesus, Lainie, I need a job to do.”

  She stared up at the man she’d been naked with less than an hour ago. A man she barely knew, yet she’d shown him a side of her she hadn’t even been sure existed anymore.

  After the sparks they’d generated in her suite, she hadn’t planned on letting their paths grow more entwined. She’d told herself she could have him only if they kept things simple, acknowledging that their relationship was a by-product of being on the rebound. Yet here they were, knee-deep in a catastrophe that made being without a chef look like child’s play.

  Now she didn’t even have a damn kitchen. Or did she?

  Telling herself this bond with Nico would only be temporary, she let a new plan of action take shape in her mind. A plan that would help the resort and give herself a little distance from him at the same time. A good thing considering all she really wanted to do now was run into those strong arms of his and hide for a few days.

  “If you want a job, I’ve got about twenty of them. First and foremost is making sure my Hollywood guests don’t leave, which means I may need your cooking expertise another day.”

  “Cooking?” He shook his head, scratching an impatient hand across his chest. “What do you want me to do, roast hot dogs over the open flames from the explosion?”

  “Definitely not.” She punched in a text message to Summer and Brianne while her brain finalized the details of a plan. They needed a meeting pronto. “Club Paradise houses a second, smaller kitchen off the café. With three restaurants and a coffee shop, Giselle insisted on two kitchens even though she did all her work out of the main one.”

  Nico nodded, shoulders relaxing slightly with the promise of an active role. “I remember her saying she liked to try out recipes there. She considered it her private turf.”

  “I’ll order a gazillion lobsters and we’ll have a big deck party tonight. By the time the newspapers are on the scene we’ll be making lemonade with these lemons.” She backed away from Nico and all the temptation that came along with him. She couldn’t afford to lose herself in those broad shoulders, wouldn’t allow herself to lean on any man again. Just as soon as she got this latest crisis under control she’d reassert herself as sole mistress of her destiny.

  Until then, who would it hurt if she stockpiled a few earth-shattering orgasms for posterity’s sake?

  Taking another step back, she paused when Nico followed.

  “What?”

  “You can’t leave yet. You haven’t talked to the police.” He signaled a uniformed officer who was just finishing up with the fire chief. “If that bastard Flynn is somehow connected to this, we need to nail him.”

  “We?”

  Nico sensed the inevitable speech about setting boundaries coming on, but he’d be damned if he was going to listen to it. Ever since they’d been jarred out of her hotel suite thanks to the kitchen explosion, he knew she’d give him the talk about maintaining their independence from one another, but this was definitely not the time.

  If he could just keep her distracted, maybe he could buy enough time to get her alone again before she decided she’d made a colossal mistake by sleeping with him.

  Hell, he already had the sinking feeling they’d messed up by getting intimate too fast. Despite his time as a celebrated athlete, he’d defied the odds and hadn’t slept with all that many women. He didn’t have much experience separating sex from a deeper connection, and apparently he sucked at it because he was already feeling pretty damn connected to Lainie.

  Given that she was carrying enough relationship baggage for both of them, that couldn’t be a good thing.

  “Yeah, we. I hate what that two-timing loser did to you and my sister.” Mentioning Giselle seemed to soothe her ruffled feathers momentarily since she nodded in vague agreement.

  And by then, thank God, the cops had arrived. He didn’t care to overthink the whole Lainie issue right now when her hotel was falling down around her ears. Notebook in hand, one of the officers took down informal statements from both of them, including details about Lainie’s call from her ex.

  Jealousy raged through him as he thought about Robert Flynn, a bastard who didn’t deserve to sleep with her shoes, let alone the rest of her. Damned strange how one scorching tangle on a deck lounger could inspire such protective feelings in a guy, but nevertheless, there it was. Lainie Reynolds might be the Club Paradise CEO and diva extraordinaire to the rest of South Beach, but he had seen something else in her. Something more vulnerable.

  He guessed she had let him see a side of her she rarely showed to anyone else.

  The police officer, a Latino guy who made up in width what he lacked in height, closed his notebook. “We’ll stop by the jail to find out more about the alleged call from your ex-husband, but the rules are strict about when an inmate can use the phone.” He shrugged and took off his hat to scratch his receding hairline. “Maybe someone else called you and just pretended to be your ex. You might want to think about other people who would like to see your hotel fail.”

  “I was married to Robert Flynn for six years. I think I’d know his voice.” Lainie took the officer’s card without glancing at it.

  “Well, if you think of anything else, give me a call. We want to make sure the fire wasn’t a deliberate act of violence.” He tipped his hat and walked away to join another officer still talking to the fire chief.

  Leaving Nico reeling from his words.

  “Deliberate?” The word circled around and around his head like an obnoxious cartoon bubble. “They think somebody could have set the fire on purpose?”

  Possibly to hurt Lainie?

  The implications blasted through the confusing mix of emotions that had descended on him ever since he’d crawled into bed with her. No matter what else might be going on between them, he wasn’t about to let anything happen to her.

  “I think he just said they wanted to rule it out.” She spoke with cool assurance, but her green gaze danced over the three-ring circus in the lobby as she bit her lip.

  “I think we’re going to make damn sure to keep you safe until they do.” His father had drummed into all his sons’ heads the importance of protecting the people around them. Especially women. And the old man didn’t say that because he was a chauvinist. Giacomo Cesare had lost the love of his life and a baby daughter in childbirth and he’d grieved for them the rest of his life.

  No, Nico couldn’t blame his dad for thinking women were more vulnerable.

  He waited for the inevitable bristling that would follow his words and was surprised when Lainie remained silent. He looked away from the coffee shop on the far side of the lobby, which seemed to be doing a great b
usiness despite—or maybe because of—the turmoil.

  “Lainie?”

  She stared off into space, her hand wedged inside her shoulder bag. He was surprised she’d managed to bring it with her since they’d left her suite in such a hurry.

  “Are you okay?” He couldn’t stop himself from putting an arm around her waist. “You want to sit down?”

  She stiffened at his touch. Possibly because they weren’t in a darkened room or rolling around in the privacy of her suite. “I’m fine. I just remembered something I probably should have shown to Officer Martinez.”

  Withdrawing a crumpled piece of paper from her purse, she moved through the crowd as if to hand it to him that minute.

  Nico snatched it from her hand first, ignoring her protest just because he was still tripped out over the possibility that someone might be trying to hurt her.

  Guess your chef quit at an inopportune time. I sure hope it’s not the first of many troubles to come.

  “When did you get this?” The note might have been innocuous enough if it hadn’t been combined with Flynn’s call to the hotel after the explosion. “Is it your ex-husband’s handwriting?”

  “No.” Her tone was brusque. Impatient. Scared? She yanked the paper out of his hand and folded it again. “I thought it looked like a woman’s handwriting, but I wrote it off as someone being bitchy. Now that my kitchen has been blown up, however, I can’t afford to overlook it.”

  “Damn straight you can’t.” He moved out of the way of the EMS team carrying the stand-in chef who’d been injured in the explosion. That could have been Lainie. Could still be her if he didn’t watch her back and every other part of her until this whole mess could be sorted out. “And I’ll tell you what else you can’t overlook. Your safety is at risk here. You need to let somebody else manage things around here for a few days and get the hell out of Club Paradise until the police find out what’s going on.”

  Her jaw dropped wide open. “Leave my hotel the week that Hollywood comes knocking?” She shook her head and stared at him as if he’d just arrived from another planet. “Nico, I wouldn’t leave now if the lobby blew up around my ears. This hotel is my responsibility. My dream. And right at this moment in time, it just so happens to be my whole life.”

  She stared after the injured chef, concern etched in her eyes.

  “I take it that’s a no?” Did she have to be so stubborn? Still, he found it difficult to be angry with a woman whose mouth was still swollen from his kisses. A woman who was scared and trying hard not to show it.

  Distracted, she didn’t even answer. “I need to go check on that woman and extend an apology before I discuss the note with the police officer. Would you please excuse me?”

  “If you won’t do the smart thing and take a few days off, then I’m going to make it my business to watch out for you.” He wasn’t budging on that much.

  “In fact, I’m going to be your new best friend and roommate.”

  “I really don’t think that’s necessary.” She edged away from him as the crowd in the lobby started thinning out. Firefighters taped off the corridor leading toward the kitchen and the last of the injured people—all members of the wait staff—were brought outside to the ambulance. “And I need to take care of about twenty different things right now.”

  “You won’t be able to take care of jack shit if you’re the one on the paramedic’s gurney next time.” Frustration churned through him. He tugged her closer just to grab her attention—not because he needed to touch her. Or so he told himself. “Someone’s trying to hurt you. At the very least, they want to make trouble for you. The kind of trouble that could damn well get you killed if you’re not careful. Is good publicity really more important to you than your life?”

  She opened her mouth as if to argue, then clamped it shut again. Her jaw tightened. “If I agree to let you be my roomie for a few days, will you let me get back to work?”

  His fingers loosened on her upper arms, then smoothed over the skin bared by the formfitting red dress she wore.

  “Definitely. But I’m only leaving your side long enough to get things underway in the other kitchen and find some sucker to oversee the lobster prep. Then I’m stuck to your side and you’re not going to shake me again until the police either have someone in custody or a damn good explanation for what’s going on here.”

  A handful of Lainie’s West Coast guests breezed into the lobby from the street, shopping bags and cell phones in hand. They took in the turmoil in the smoky hotel, eyes wide. And if Nico didn’t miss his guess, Bram Hawthorne was sneaking into the hotel behind them, a wide-brimmed straw hat and sunglasses almost disguising him.

  Nico could feel Lainie straining to go play hostess and smooth over the mess.

  “Fine.” She nodded impatiently but at least she didn’t argue. “Knock yourself out and don’t forget to bring your own toothbrush. But I have to go.”

  She huffed away, calling him five different names under her breath. But all the names were familiar enough and they wouldn’t stop him from watching out for her.

  In fact, the sooner he organized the kitchen for the lobsterfest on the deck tonight, the faster he could be back at Lainie’s side making sure she was well protected. He knew he could do the job.

  He just wondered who was going to protect him from her.

  9

  SAINTS PROTECT HIM.

  Bram held his breath as a foursome of bikini-clad tourists approached him. He didn’t need to be mobbed right now in the wake of a serious accident at the hotel. No doubt the management would try to downplay the whole thing and it sure wouldn’t help their cause if there were photos of him signing autographs in front of the wreckage.

  Breathing a sigh of relief as the girls walked right on by him, he had to laugh. Who would have ever thought the Mississippi backwoods farm boy would see the day when he’d hope women wouldn’t notice him? Unbelievable.

  Tugging his hat down lower on his head, he dodged the big guy with the mermaid tattoo he’d nearly knocked over yesterday as he wove through the dispersing crowd in the lobby. He tried to remember where the movie’s VIP lounge was set up so he could snag some dinner in peace. He remembered you were supposed to turn right at the statue of a naked Venus and left at the painting of a red poppy flower that looked exactly like a woman’s genitals, but after that…

  Daisy Stephenson popped into view, her sexy-as-hell body leaning up against a bookcase full of miniature erotic statues. She was scribbling in a small notebook with an orange pen.

  Thank you, God. He plastered on his best grin just in time to see her scurry away in the other direction.

  “Hey! Daisy, wait up.” He double-timed it up the hallway, wondering when was the last time he’d had to chase down a woman before.

  She turned, but she didn’t exactly look ready to smile and flirt the way she had when they’d met earlier.

  He whipped off his sunglasses and his hat. “I looked for you when the movie filming was over, but you were out of there so fast I didn’t have the chance to talk to you.”

  After sliding her pen into the spiral of her notepad, she tucked the paper under one arm. “I figured I didn’t need to stick around since I got the message loud and clear at the filming.”

  “What message?” He’d only sent her one that he knew of, and that was his request to visit the set.

  “Obviously you wanted me to see the chemistry between you and Rosaria.” She tossed her head as if to clear her long, wispy bangs from her eyes. They fell right back into place, one blond hank of hair curling around her wide blue eyes in a perfect frame. “You don’t need to spell it out for me.”

  “Me and Rosaria? Hell yeah, I think I do need to spell it out for you. I don’t have any chemistry with her.”

  Daisy huffed a rather inelegant snort that under other circumstances would have made him smile. “Could have fooled me.”

  “That was acting. And you know the only reason I did it so well?” Just remembering all his sala
cious thoughts about her was making him crazy to have her, to see if his wild imagination came anywhere close to the reality of being with her. Maybe because he had such a damn good imagination, too often he’d been disappointed when confronted with the object of his daydreams.

  He didn’t want it to be like that with her.

  She shook her head, her blue eyes looking a little less certain. “Why?”

  “Because I was imagining she was you the whole time.” Footsteps in the corridor behind them made him remember where they were. He nudged her into an open meeting room nearby and shut the door behind them.

  “You were?” She didn’t protest when he took her notepad and laid it down on one of the tables set with coffee cups, legal pads and pens bearing the Club Paradise logo. He flung his hat and sunglasses aside.

  “Yeah. I was.” He stepped closer, intrigued by her willingness to give him the cold shoulder before. The fans who had chased him in the past had made it clear they didn’t care what he did with other women, an attitude that had never set well with him and his more traditional values. “That’s why I wanted you there during the filming. So I could—you know—get motivated.”

  Her blue eyes widened with surprise. Then narrowed with feminine wile. “I’ll bet I could motivate you even more with a little incentive.”

  “Could you now?” His hands itched to cop a feel of those spectacular breasts inching near, but he would maintain the role of gentleman at least until she made her interest plain.

  “Absolutely. And I have a feeling I would love every minute of it.” The breathy words whispered over him before her voice strengthened. Hardened. “But I have to say I’ve been scammed by men in the past who are only after one thing. A girl can’t be too careful, you know.”

  “I’ve got gentleman written all over me.” He thumped his chest and wondered if she’d heard about his reputation as a Hollywood nice guy. “How can I make you trust me?”

  She shrugged. “Hmm. I dunno. But I did have a lot of fun at the movie filming until I thought you were trying to wave Rosaria in my face. Maybe I’d learn to trust you if we spent some more time together…maybe went to a few of the movie events with you?” She ran her fingers up his chest, hovered at the top button of his shirt and danced along the notch of bare skin above the button. “I’d love to give you some very explicit motivations for this sexy movie of yours.”