And he’d been too busy dealing with the disarray left by his ex, both personally and career-wise, to really care. But this mess was going to require some big decisions.
‘Well, actually, that’s not entirely true, is it?’
Claudia knew exactly what he was alluding to and hated that he was right. Hated it. But his name was still on the partnership agreement their parents had made them sign and he did have equal say—he just hadn’t been interested in claiming it before today.
Claudia sighed, feeling utterly defeated all of a sudden. ‘Look, I get it, you’re here out of some misguided sense of responsibility. But you really don’t need to worry. Everything’s fine and dandy. Just go back to London. I can only deal with one Luke at a time.’
Luke was torn between picking her up and dumping her in the ocean and pulling her into his arms. ‘I’m staying. I have a week off. I can help with the clean-up.’
This time Claudia’s laugh did not border on anything—it had lapsed into full-blown hysteria.
‘A week?’ she demanded, her voice high and shaky. ‘Well, gee, Luke, thank you for sparing seven lousy days out of your busy and important life to help out poor old Claude.’
She shook her head in disgust at him, the urge to slam the clipboard down on his head riding her as hard as the threatening tears. She would not cry!
‘Take a look at this place,’ she demanded, flinging her arms wide to distract from the crack in her voice. ‘Do you think this is going to be cleaned up in a week?’
Luke looked. He doubted it would be cleaned up in a month. But he had a major account on the hook, one that would erase for ever the big one he’d lost because he’d foolishly trusted the woman he’d loved. He couldn’t afford to spend a lot of time away. Hell, he couldn’t even afford seven lousy days.
But he was here, wasn’t he?
‘Let’s just take it one day at a time,’ he suggested, holding onto his temper.
Claudia glared at him. ‘Don’t patronise me. I have an entire army of people ready, willing and able to help me clean up when we get the all-clear. We don’t need someone whose heart isn’t in it and who doesn’t give a damn about the Tropicana.’
Luke clenched his fists in his pockets. Just because he hadn’t chosen to slavishly devote himself to a forty-year-old white elephant, didn’t mean he didn’t care. He glared at her. ‘And I suppose walking around with that damn clipboard and wearing that God-awful Hawaiian shirt and those polyester capris proves your level of give a damn?’
Claudia gasped at his insult. The uniform had been around since the beginning—it was iconic, damn it! But it gave her something else to focus on other than the prickle inside her nose caused by building emotion. ‘I’m on duty,’ she snapped.
It was Luke’s turn to snort. ‘For what? There’s nobody here, Claude.’
Claudia held herself erect. ‘I’m never off duty.’
And that, as far as Luke was concerned, was one of her problems. She was twenty-seven years old and, apart from her brief sojourns overseas with Avery every couple of years, the resort had been her entire focus.
‘You really need a life,’ he muttered, still smarting from her stinging judgment of him.
‘I need a life?’ She laughed again, all high and shaky. ‘This from a man who wears a freaking suit to the beach.’
‘I got the first flight I could,’ he said. ‘I went straight from work to Heathrow. I know it’s hard for you to believe but there are other people in this world just as dedicated to their jobs as you are to yours. Although I think manic obsession probably fits better in your case.’
‘The Tropicana isn’t a job. It’s our legacy,’ Claudia snapped.
Luke shook his head as a storm of frustration and disbelief raged in his gut. God, her doggedness was infuriating.
‘It’s not our legacy. It’s just an old-fashioned relic from a different time and everybody’s moved on but you. You’re not in Dirty Dancing, Claude, and this—’ he threw his arms wide at the destruction before him ‘—isn’t freaking Kellerman’s. Johnny Castle isn’t going to drop by and demand that nobody puts you in a corner.’
Claude blinked. A pain flared in the vicinity of her heart as he took everything she believed in and crushed it into the hot, white sand. Yes, she was sentimental and a romantic and she not only believed but had proved that there was a market for the style of resort he was so disparaging of. She just hadn’t realised he’d thought so little of the things that were important to her.
It made her feel small. Insignificant. Unvalued.
And so very sad. For her and for him. His divorce sure had made him cynical.
And it was her undoing. Her vision blurred, the emotion she’d been holding back for days coming now whether she liked it or not. A solitary tear spilled down her cheek.
Luke saw the tear threaten, then fall and wished he could cut his tongue out. He’d been angry and frustrated and his words had been harsh and ill considered. Strands of her blonde hair had loosened and blew across her face, sticking to the wet tear track and her mouth.
‘Claudia.’ He took a step towards her.
Claudia shook her head and held up a hand to ward him off, swiping at the tear with the other, angry that he was a witness to it, that she was being weak and sentimental in front of him. ‘Just go back to London, Luke.’ She turned away, marching off, needing to get away from his toxic disregard as more tears ran down her face.
Luke watched as she turned away, marching back up the beach, her spine straight, her ponytail barely bouncing as she held her head high. He cursed his insensitivity.
That went well. Not.
TWO
Avery, Jonah, Isis and Cyrus looked up from the reception desk that had been turned into a mini war room as the glass entrance door was yanked open and a red-eyed, tear-streaked Claudia stalked inside the cavernous lobby. Jonah looked at Avery with a question in his eyes as Claudia steamed straight past them.
‘Claude?’ Avery called after her, her American accent echoing around the large, deserted foyer. Claudia didn’t stop or reply.
‘Claudia.’
This time Claudia hesitated slightly before throwing an, ‘I’m fine,’ over her shoulder and, ‘I just need some time alone,’ before hitting the wide elegant staircase that would have been perfectly at home in some maharajah’s palace.
There was a worried silence as four sets of eyes watched her beat her hasty retreat to her first-floor suite.
‘What was that about?’ asked Cyrus, a young local guy employed at the Tropicana as a bellhop.
‘I don’t know,’ said Isis, his sister, who usually worked Reception.
The siblings, products of hippy parents, were uncannily similar with their striking red hair and freckles.
‘I think I do,’ Avery said, her eyes narrowing as Luke strode up the wide front steps.
Luke, his shoes and jacket in hand, glanced at the reception desk as he entered the lobby. None of the people behind it looked very receptive.
He made his way across the expanse of mosaic tiles swirling together to form a tapestry of rich sandy tones. He diverted around colossal rugs, cushy lounge chairs and potted palms. Huge beige columns rose to the two-storey ceiling and bordered the domed mural on high. It showcased a midnight sky twinkling with stars, the edges decorated with palm leaves.
As a kid it had fascinated him endlessly; now it seemed just another relic of yesteryear.
‘Luke Hargreaves,’ Avery said, her voice full of accusation as he approached the desk. ‘Did you make Claude cry?’
Luke glanced at Jonah, standing behind Avery, who was sending him run away now signals with his eyes. Jonah knew as well as Luke that Avery was Claudia’s fiercest champion.
‘I’m rather afraid I did.’ He grimaced as he approached the desk.
Much to Luke’s surprise Avery’s shoulder’s sagged and she said, ‘Oh, thank God for that. She needed a damned good cry.’
The group all nodded in agreement, even Jonah. ‘Oh, yes,’ Isis agreed. ‘She’s been saying she’s fine and dandy for days now.’
‘Fine and dandy,’ Cyrus repeated. ‘Like a cracked record.’
‘Well...’ Luke shrugged ‘...mission accomplished.’
Luke was glad that little group were more relaxed and looking less like they wanted to hang, draw and quarter him. Apparently an upset Claudia was a good thing. But it didn’t help his guilt...the things he’d said had been fairly unforgivable.
He felt about as low as a man could feel.
He remembered all too well how it’d felt to be idolised by her and he much preferred that feeling. Although he’d certainly developed feet of clay as far as she was concerned since declining the opportunity to give up his entire life in the UK—no matter how shambolic—and manage the resort with her.
He glanced up the stairs behind him, then back to the group. He had to go and apologise. ‘Think I’ll go and see how she is. Say sorry.’
Avery shook her head. ‘No. That would be bad.’
Jonah agreed. ‘You should give her some time to cool off, man.’
Cool off? As if anyone could cool off in this God-awful heat without the electricity that usually cooled the vast lobby into a blissful paradise. The frustration that had ridden him down at the beach returned for a second spin and a sudden rush of bone-wearying tiredness joined the mix.
He was jet-lagged to hell and sweating like a pig in his inappropriate clothes, but he had to fix this.
‘Why didn’t you tell me on the chopper ride she was this fragile?’ Luke demanded of Jonah.
‘She’s not fragile,’ Avery said, rising quickly to Claudia’s defence.
‘You could have fooled me,’ he snorted.
‘She’s been working day and night organising everything like a Trojan, getting things into place so when the official all-clear comes tomorrow we can start the clean-up, not to mention having to deal with the two hundred guests we were expecting over the next few weeks.’ Avery glared at him. ‘And she’s been helping out in the town and at the other resorts. She’s been strong, she’s been a leader. She is not fragile.’
‘Then why is she bursting into tears?’
Avery shook her head at him and Luke felt lower still.
‘Because she’s exhausted. Because she’s stressed and worried. She’s barely slept a wink in five days. Because her entire life just got blown all to hell and maybe, just maybe, she’d thought you might be the one man who really understood her devastation. None of us here can truly understand how this disaster in this place she loves so much has wounded her. Except you. Is that what you did, Luke? Did you go down to the beach and tell her you understood?’
Luke avoided the doubt and reprimand in Avery’s gaze as guilt rode him again. ‘I asked you how she was doing,’ he said, turning to Jonah. ‘You said she was fine.’
Jonah nodded. ‘She is fine. And dandy. Considering everything she’s worked for this last year has been flattened to a pulp. She’s been keeping busy and putting up a good front for us all. But you’re family, man. Your opinion has always mattered more than anyone else’s.’
Luke scowled, hating that Jonah was right. He had lashed out and hurt her. ‘Right,’ he said after a moment. ‘So I’d better go and fix it, then.’
Avery made a tutting sound and it was Luke’s turn to glare. ‘What?’
‘I know you’re a man and all and it’s in your DNA to fix stuff but she doesn’t need that. She told us she needed some time alone and a smart man would just let her do it. And probably after that she needs you to shut your mouth and just hug her.’
Jonah nodded. ‘Give her some space, man. I wouldn’t add insult to injury if I were you.’
Luke knew it was good advice. But he couldn’t bear the fact that she was upstairs all alone crying because of the things he’d said. Claudia wasn’t a crier—never had been. She was bouncy and cheery and peppy.
She was a ray of freaking sunshine.
And he’d made her cry. He was responsible for her tears.
Luke shook his head. ‘Nope, sorry, can’t.’
And then he was gone and four sets of eyes watched him bound up the stairs following in Claudia’s footsteps.
Avery sighed. ‘And I thought he was smart.’
Jonah slid a hand onto Avery’s shoulder and squeezed as he pulled her gently back against his chest. ‘Even smart men can be stupid where women are concerned.’
She smiled and slid her hand over the top of his. ‘That’s true. You were pretty dumb.’
Jonah chuckled and dropped a kiss on her temple.
‘That’s not going to end well, is it?’ Cyrus asked his sister, agog that anyone would go against Claudia’s express wishes.
Isis shook her head. ‘His funeral.’
* * *
Luke’s feet took him without conscious thought to the door of the Copacabana Suite, the room where Claudia had lived with her parents since she was six years old. He and his parents had lived next door in the Mai Tai Suite. He hesitated before he knocked—maybe she didn’t reside here any more? Maybe she’d downgraded now her parents had moved on? It wasn’t as if a single woman needed a massive two-bedroom suite.
But the thought was only fleeting. Claudia Davis was as sentimental as they came. No way would she have passed up the nostalgia of her childhood home. Or the view from the balcony.
He knocked. No answer.
He knocked again. Louder. Still no answer.
‘Claude, I know you’re in there. Open up.’
No answer.
‘I can stand out here all day and knock,’ he warned, even if the thought made him weary to his bones. ‘Hell, I can just sit down here and wait for you to come out. You’re going to have to eventually. But I’m not going back to England. I’m not going anywhere for a week so you might as well get used to it.’
Still no answer. The door remained stubbornly closed. Luke sighed and slid down the door, propping his back against the dark grain wood. He was too bloody tired to stand upright. Despite the luxury of business class he hadn’t slept much on the plane—worry about the resort, about Claudia had unfortunately kept sleep at bay.
Luke rubbed his eyes and scrubbed at his face with his hands. He could hear the faint rasp of stubble already fighting back against the quick shave he’d managed in the restroom aboard the plane. He was used to keeping it ruthlessly smooth, and it bothered him—he really should do something about that.
After a shower. And a sleep.
In fact his whole appearance bothered him. His sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his top three buttons were undone, his expensive business shirt felt sticky against his sweaty chest and his bare feet were still coated with traces of sand.
Luke prided himself on his appearance. He believed it had a lot to do with his success. If you looked professional clients were more likely to part with their money.
He rapped again on the door, his knuckles connecting with the wood just above his shoulder. ‘Claude.’
Still no answer.
Luke looked back at his feet and rubbed his toes together to displace the sand. A fine sprinkling of gritty powder dusted the thinning, aged carpet with its palm-tree print that had graced this hallway for as long as he could remember.
As a kid roaming around the resort he’d never been without sand between his toes. He’d rarely even noticed it, for ever being chided by his mother for tracking it into the suite. He’d loved it back then.
But like everything else today, it bugged him and he leaned down with his fingers to brush it all off. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he rubbed his hands together
to remove the last trace of sand before quickly answering the text.
A pair of work boots filled his vision as he hit send and he glanced up to find Jonah looking down at him dangling a key—yes, they still had real bona fide keys at the Tropicana, of course—from his fingers.
‘This might help,’ Jonah said. ‘And if you tell Avery I gave it to you I will deny everything.’
Luke put the phone away and took Jonah’s offering. It was the keys to the Mai Tai. He smiled. ‘Thank you.’
Jonah and Luke had been friends a long time so when he reached out a hand Luke grabbed hold gratefully and let Jonah haul him to his feet. ‘Don’t screw it up,’ Jonah warned before retreating.
Luke made his way next door and slid the key into the lock. For twenty years the Davis family and the Hargreaves family had not only run the resort but lived right next door to each other. Somehow, miraculously, they’d made it through twenty years in business together and still come out as friends. Even choosing to take their trip of a lifetime together.
Luke stepped inside the suite, which looked more worn and shabby around the edges than ever. A familiar smell of old carpet, starched linen and the hibiscus air freshener that was synonymous with his childhood embraced him. He’d grown to hate that smell as his desperation to see the big wide world had grown more intense, but today it was soothing to ragged nerve endings.
He must be tired.
He glanced at the big king-sized bed covered in its colourful Hawaiian-style bedspread and was surprised by the overwhelming desire to leave Claudia alone as she’d requested and get some much-needed sleep. Tackle her when he could count on more than two functioning brain cells. But that solitary tear played in slow motion through his head and he placed temptation firmly behind him as he stalked to the connecting door.
A long-forgotten memory made Luke hesitate before sliding the key into the lock. When their parents had run the resort, the door was never locked. In fact it was usually left chocked open. On a hunch, he just reached for the handle.
Harlequin KISS August 2014 Bundle Page 2
