Starting Over (Nugget Romance 4)

by Stacy Finz

  She eyed the room one more time and just for the hell of it tried one of the recliners, leaning all the way back to view the flat-screen. Comfortable, she had to admit, and had a hard time making herself get up.

  On her way out, she stopped in Nate’s bedroom. Earlier she’d replaced the ratty quilt with new bedding she’d also gotten at Farm Supply. Who knew the feed store was like Macy’s? Seriously, it had a little bit of everything. The owners’ daughter did the buying and although the home décor and clothing had a decidedly Western flavor, the woman had marvelous taste.

  She carried the old quilt to the laundry room and couldn’t help but notice that it smelled like Nate. Woodsy and citrusy and soapy, like Irish Spring. Nate was an ass, but he did smell good. And look good. And feel good . . . especially when he was excited.

  Get your head out of the gutter.

  She shoved the blanket into his laundry basket and left the house before she could have any more naughty thoughts about its owner.

  The next morning, she made it to the Reno airport with just enough time to grab a muffin and coffee before her flight boarded. She was surprised to find that Nate had booked her in business class, even though it was such a short flight. Everything else—pamphlets highlighting their services, a portfolio of past events and a poster-board display of the inn—she’d sent with Nate in his car.

  When she got to San Francisco, a driver waited for her, holding a big sign with her name on it.

  “Slight change of plans, Ms. Dunsbury,” he said as he loaded her carry-on into the trunk of the Town Car. “Mr. Breyer has you at the Theodore instead of the Belvedere. It’s just a few blocks away, so you can walk or catch a cab for the bridal expo tomorrow morning. But he thought you would like the accommodations better.”

  “That sounds lovely.” She’d searched all of Nate’s hotels on the Internet and knew that the Theodore was his flagship as well as corporate headquarters.

  Sam stared out the window as the driver zipped onto the freeway. She’d been to San Francisco many times and loved it. Tonight, after she got settled in, Sam planned to walk around Union Square and maybe do a little shopping. Boy, had she missed Barneys and Saks and the designer stores that dotted Manhattan and Greenwich Avenue.

  “Sorry about the traffic, Ms. Dunsbury,” the driver called back to her. “Friday, everyone’s going into the city.”

  “No worries. I’m enjoying the ride.”

  Twenty minutes later, they inched up Powell Street as hordes of people vied for an open cable car. Most of the trolleys were packed so full that riders hung off the sides three deep.

  “That looks dangerous,” Sam commented to the driver.

  “Nah. But you stay away from those Muni buses. Those drivers are either drunk or crazy. Every day there’s another accident.”

  Sam made a mental note not to take any buses. She wanted to leave in one piece. When he finally pulled up in front the Theodore, she couldn’t believe how big and centrally located the hotel was. It was just a few blocks away from the St. Francis, where Sam usually stayed. Pictures on the website didn’t do the hotel justice.

  A bellhop took her luggage and when she went to give the driver a tip, he said, “It’s been taken care of, Ms. Dunsbury. You enjoy your stay, now.”

  She followed the bellhop into the lobby, an enormous space with marble pillars, high ceilings, and the most gorgeous moldings Sam had ever seen. The architecture was breathtaking. Sam had stayed in some of the finest hotels in the world, but the Theodore matched any of them in opulence.

  For some reason, she’d thought Nate ran boutique hotels. Elegant but small, and less luxurious than places like the Four Seasons and the Ritz Carlton. The Theodore proved her wrong. She went up to the check-in desk, a long, graciously designed marble counter, where at least ten clerks tended to guests.

  “Hello. Samantha Dunsbury. I’m checking in.”

  “Welcome, Ms. Dunsbury. Mr. Breyer has you on the thirty-second floor.” The clerk smiled and handed Sam an envelope with a card key. “Enjoy your stay.”

  The bellhop took her up on an elevator and she noticed that the thirty-second was the top floor. When the doors slid open, Sam was greeted with a panoramic view of the city. She could see the Golden Gate Bridge, the Bay Bridge and a bridge to the south, which she didn’t know.

  “Is that Alcatraz?” She pointed to an island not far from the Golden Gate.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The bellhop turned slightly and motioned at the row of windows. “That’s Oakland.”

  “Wow. You can see everything up here.”

  “You got the best room in the hotel,” he said. “Mr. Breyer’s penthouse is just down the hall.”

  She wondered if Nate put all the Breyer event planners working the expo up on the thirty-second floor of the Theodore. If so, mighty generous. The bellhop, Paul, according to his name tag, opened the door to a perfectly appointed three-room suite. Very posh. And the views every bit as breathtaking as the ones in the hallway. She couldn’t believe Nate would give a room like this to the help. Sure, she was a Dunsbury. But in California she was simply Nate’s employee.

  “I hope it’s to your satisfaction, Ms. Dunsbury,” Paul said, and stowed her luggage in the walk-in closet.

  “Are you kidding? It would be to the Queen of England’s satisfaction.”

  “Actually, she liked it very much.”

  Sam did a double take. “Queen Elizabeth stayed here? In this room?”

  “Yes, ma’am. It was in 1983. I was here, but it was before Mr. Breyer’s time. The Theodore’s a legend. It was one of Hollywood’s favorite hotels. Samuel Taylor brought Audrey Hepburn here to persuade her to play the lead in Sabrina. At least that’s how the story goes. Now that was even before my time.” He laughed and tapped the wall. “The Reagans used to stay next door.”

  “Really?” She had no idea. Not once had Nate talked about what a storied hotel this was. “Paul, are Mr. Breyer’s other hotels like this?”

  “In my humble opinion the Theodore is the best, but the Belvedere also has a lot of history. Before the old owners let it go to pot and the big names came to town, the Belvedere was one of the city’s crown jewels. Like the Theodore, Mr. Breyer renovated the place from top to bottom and brought it back to represent what this city used to be.” Paul harrumphed. “Not like that InterContinental glass monstrosity on Howard. His other hotels are smaller, have fewer services, but are real swank.”

  “Thank you so much for sharing the history of this beautiful hotel,” Sam said. “I wasn’t aware that it was so famous.”

  “You’re welcome, Ms. Dunsbury.” As he went to leave, Sam handed him a tip. “It’s all been taken care of, Ms. Dunsbury.”

  Alone, Sam took the time to really look around the suite. A big basket wrapped in cellophane sat in the middle of the coffee table. She pulled out the card. “Compliments of the Theodore,” it said. “We hope you enjoy your stay.” Sam took off the plastic. Inside was a bottle of Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon, Ghirardelli chocolates, Cowgirl Creamery cheese, Columbus salami, crackers, and fresh fruit. Nice how they included only local delicacies. She put the cheese in the mini fridge, once again wondering if all Nate’s employees got this kind of treatment.

  She unpacked her suitcase and removed the outfits she planned to wear from her suiter and carefully hung them in the closet, hoping they’d be wrinkle-free by tomorrow. Halfway to the bathroom to organize her toiletries, the phone rang. She dropped her cosmetics bag on the bed and picked up, fearing it was Andy with an emergency. “Hello.”

  “Hey. How was the flight?”

  She smiled. “It was great. And so is this room. My God, Nate, this place is amazing.”

  “You hungry?”

  She looked at her watch. It was already lunchtime. “I could eat.” She wondered if he would have food sent up to her room.

  “I’ve got a couple of meetings, so we’ll have to go to one of the restaurants here. You okay with that?” He planned to have lunch with her. Sh
e hadn’t expected that.

  “Of course. Give me ten minutes.”

  The second he clicked off, she started pulling off her clothes. Damn! She hadn’t packed a going-to-lunch-with-my-hot-boss outfit, just comfy travel clothes. She rifled through her offerings and decided on the dress she’d planned to wear to dinner with her friend Saturday night. It was a black-and-white Kate Spade. Very fitted. So she quickly shimmied into a one-piece Spanx number before pulling the dress over her head and grabbing the shoes to match.

  By the time he knocked on her door, she’d had just enough time to run a comb through her hair and touch up her makeup.

  “Hi,” she said. “Let me grab my purse.”

  He stepped into the room and she saw him do a visual sweep of the suite. Cute. Obviously, he wanted to make sure that his staff had put everything in order. Then he did a visual sweep of her, giving no hint to whether he liked what he saw.

  As they walked out he took her arm. “I got us a table at Mitch Mica.”

  Sam recognized the name of the high-profile chef and had seen the entrance to his restaurant in the lobby. “Do you eat there a lot?”

  “Usually I grab a hot dog off the cart on Powell,” he said, and she checked to see if he was kidding. He wasn’t.

  “Why don’t we just do that?” she said.

  “The health department shut them down for listeria,” he said in that droll way of his.

  This time she was sure he was kidding, but who could tell with Nate? He steered her onto the elevator.

  “This hotel is spectacular, Nate. The architecture, the views, my room . . . Queen Elizabeth stayed there, for goodness’ sake. I can’t believe you never talk about it.”

  “I can’t believe you’re actually talking to me.” He looked at her to gauge her reaction. “Does this mean you’re no longer giving me the silent treatment?”

  She sidestepped. “You’re my boss. I don’t really have a choice.” He smirked. “You have more choices than anyone I know, Samantha.”

  “You’re one to talk. Look at this place, it’s worth a fortune.”

  “This place is owned by hundreds of investors. I just have an infinitesimal piece of it.”

  “But you have nine more.”

  “Again”—he led her out of the elevator—“lots of investors. The only place I truly own is the Lumber Baron. And even that I share with Maddy.”

  “Isn’t that the way most large hotels are owned?” she asked.

  “Many. But some, like the ones owned by my ex-brother-in-law’s family, are a sole proprietorship.”

  Sam knew he meant the Wellmonts. She’d heard through the powerful Nugget grapevine that Maddy had been married to Dave Wellmont, who’d been a “cheating son-of-a-bitch.” A direct quote from Donna Thurston.

  With his hand at the small of her back, he guided her into the restaurant.

  “Mr. Breyer, we have your table ready.” The hostess escorted them to a private spot in the back corner of the restaurant. “Chef Mica would like to send a few items out before you order. Either of you have any allergies or diet restrictions?”

  Nate looked at Sam, who smiled. “I eat everything but shellfish.”

  “Thanks, Lucy.” Nate spread his napkin over his lap and used the opportunity to discreetly glance at his watch.

  “Do you have to go soon?” she asked, trying to reconcile this powerful, ultracommanding Nate with the down-to-earth Nate from the Lumber Baron. Even his suit was different. More formal, more expensive, and definitely more authoritative. Just looking at him made her knees weak.

  “I’m good. But I have something this evening, so I’m afraid I won’t be able to take you to dinner.”

  “Nate, I wasn’t even expecting lunch. Do you give all your employees the red-carpet treatment—fancy suites, gift baskets, meals at Mitch Mica’s?”

  “Just the ones who are pissed off at me.”

  “I’m over it,” she said, waving her hand in the air. But the truth was, he’d hurt her feelings. She glanced around the beautiful restaurant. “So this is all to make up for the fact that you like my face and body, but everything else about me you can’t stand?”

  “That’s not what I said.” He leaned over the table. “What I don’t like is how much I like you.”

  She gulped. “Then this is to impress me?”

  “I suspect it takes a lot more than this to impress Samantha Dunsbury,” he said. “What’re your plans for the rest of the day?”

  The sommelier brought them a bottle of wine. “Chef thought this would be a nice accompaniment to some of the things he’s sending out.”

  “Thanks, Raj.” Nate swirled his glass, sniffed, tasted, and nodded his head. Raj proceeded to fill both their glasses and quietly disappeared.

  “You know about wine?” she asked.

  “Not a thing.” Nate smiled. “Don’t tell Raj, but I would’ve preferred beer. What’re your plans?”

  “I thought I’d check out the expo space at the Belvedere. You know, get a lay of the land. Then I wanted to walk around Union Square and do a little shopping.”

  “You need a driver?”

  “Isn’t it just a couple of blocks?”

  “Three. The concierge will give you directions and hook you up with the folks over at the Belvedere. Your promotional stuff is already there. All the good shops in Union Square deliver to the hotel, so don’t worry about having to carry your packages back.”

  She beamed at him. “Contrary to your opinion of me, I’m impressed, Nate.” Maybe it was the restaurant lighting, but she could’ve sworn Mr. Cynical blushed. “Tell me, how did you ever get your hands on this hotel? Paul the bellhop, who by the way deserves a raise for promoting this place so well, said you renovated the Theodore from top to bottom.”

  Nate took a sip of wine and nodded. “It had been one of San Francisco’s most famous hotels, but the last owners let it go to hell. By the time I got it, the Theodore needed millions of dollars of restoration—a hard sell to investors, especially given that in the last decade San Francisco has gotten a lot of the big luxury chains. Names that travelers know and value. But we were able to put together a long-term strategy that would put this place on top again. It would’ve been a shame to see it die. The hotel has a legacy.”

  “It’s like what you did with the Lumber Baron.”

  “Yeah,” he said, grinning. “Just on a much grander scale.”

  “You’re a very good businessman, aren’t you?” She supposed Royce must’ve been, too. But he didn’t save architectural treasures.

  “I just work hard. How about Saturday, after the expo, I show you some of the other Breyer properties?”

  Her face fell. “I have plans Saturday evening that I can’t get out of. Is there another time we could squeeze it in? I’m dying to see them.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. What’s up Saturday?”

  “I’m seeing an old friend from Greenwich. He lives here now.” She would’ve invited Nate to come along, but it seemed awkward.

  “Sounds nice,” Nate said, but Sam got the distinct impression that he was disappointed. “So about tomorrow, Tracy will show you the ropes. They’ll be a couple of other Breyer event planners there as well. Lean on them as much as you need to. So how do you know this guy from Greenwich?”

  “We grew up together, though he’s a few years older. His sister, my best friend and I all went to Vassar together.”

  “I didn’t know you went to Vassar.” Nate genuinely looked surprised. “What did you major in, or did you skip around departments?”

  Skip around? “Art history.” It just so happened that she graduated with honors.

  “Did you want to work in a museum or own a gallery?” he asked, leaning across the table.

  Before she could answer, the server came with an amuse-bouche for the table—shot glasses of cold soup.

  “This is delicious,” she said, sipping. “As far as art history, my family owns a large collection that we lend out to museums and public
spaces around the world. It’s important to us to keep adding to that collection so that we can continue to share. Although I was raised to appreciate art, I wanted to be educated well enough to carry on the family legacy.”

  The server returned with four different appetizers, each one looking better than the last.

  “You always get this kind of service?” she whispered. “All this food and I won’t have any room left to order an entrée.”

  “Try to force it down. I don’t want to offend the guy. He’s on the temperamental side and having his restaurant here brings in a lot of traffic.” He served her some calamari and took some for himself. “You giving up the art now that you’re in the hospitality business?”

  “Give it up? Why would I do that? It’s part of my family history. I help administer the George T. Dunsbury Trust, which puts aside millions every year for new art acquisitions. Not just for my family’s collections, but for museums like MoMA and the Met.”

  “How’s that working out from Nugget?” She detected a hint of sarcasm in his voice. But that was Nate. Acerbic and cynical. At least he wasn’t a con artist, like Royce.

  “Quite well, thank you. I Skype with the board at least once a week.” She wanted to stick out her tongue at him, but at the moment she had food in her mouth. What in tarnation ever gave him the impression that just because she’d moved to Nugget she would shirk her responsibilities?

  The waiter was headed their way and quietly Nate said, “Let’s order something. I don’t want to eat his freebies and run.”

  She looked at her menu for something light. “I’ll have the Caesar salad,” she told the server.

  Nate got the grilled Alaskan halibut. “How’s things back in Nugget?”

  “Good. Lucky’s excited about my winter ideas.” Nate rolled his eyes. “What? I’ve been working like a dog on that project.”

  He reached across the table and put his hand on hers. Electricity arced through her like she’d been touched by a lightning bolt. She credited the jolt to the fact that he had sexy hands. Large and strong with a smattering of dark hair that extended past his wrists.

  “Sam, not you,” he said. “You’ve come up with some great ideas.”