Kristy sighed, shook her head and watched mutely as he did it again, this time not letting go too soon.
“Okay, now. Sprinkle cleanser all around the inside of the bowl.” She edged closer, watching approvingly as he followed her directions to the letter. “Good. Now take the sponge and work that cleanser in, being careful to get up around the inside of the rim.”
Very glad he had industrial-strength gloves on, Connor dabbed a little here and there. Kristy leaned in closer still, until the enticing softness of her breast brushed his extended arm. Connor began to have a different problem, starting near the front of his jeans. Fortunately, she was still focused on the task at hand.
“Don’t be afraid to give it a good scrubbing.” She straightened and winked. “It won’t bite.”
Tired of bending over, Connor got down on his knees. “Har de har har.”
Kristy braced her hands on her hips. “I thought you would see the adventure in this, eventually.”
Kristy Neumeyer was an adventure. Definitely. He didn’t know about the rest of this, though….
“Keep going,” she directed enthusiastically. “We’re going to scrub and rinse the whole commode, inside and out, until it’s clean enough to eat off of.”
Connor shook his head at that image as he put a lot more power into his scrub arm. He shot her a glance. “I don’t know about you, but I will not be taking any meals here.”
Connor thought, but couldn’t be sure, that he saw a hint of respect in her lovely brown eyes. She chuckled. “A sense of humor. Nice.”
As Connor continued working, the porcelain bowl began to sparkle the way the commodes in his own home always did.
“Be sure you get around the base of the toilet, too,” Kristy directed, backing away. “It can get pretty icky around the floor.”
Connor looked down. And promptly wished he hadn’t. No wonder women were always complaining about aim. “No kidding.”
Kristy leaned against the wall as Connor finished cleaning and rinsing around the commode. “That’s good enough,” she murmured at long last. “In fact,” she stated respectfully, “it’s excellent.”
It ought to be, Connor thought. He was sweating. He never perspired, except on the tennis court. He stood up again.
“Okay!” Kristy said enthusiastically, clapping her hands together. “One down, twenty-four to go!”
Connor had words for that particular goal. But none, he knew, that should be muttered in front of a lady. And despite her goading, Kristy Neumeyer was a lady. And a fine-looking one at that.
“I’m kidding,” she said humorously after a moment, attempting to take the cleanser can from him, despite his resistance to giving up or giving in. “You’ve proved your point. You can do this. Just as I’ve proved mine.”
Connor paused as their hands fought over the cleanser. He didn’t like the sound of this. “And your point was what, exactly?”
Kristy’s eyes gentled compassionately, letting him know it was okay, she forgave him. “That I’m not the kind of woman a tycoon-about-town like you wants to date.”
Connor stiffened. He had encountered attitudes like this before. He just hadn’t expected one from someone as down-to-earth and inherently compassionate as Kristy Neumeyer. “Next thing I know you’ll be calling me a blue blood.”
Kristy blinked, surprised by his pique. “Aren’t you?”
Connor grimaced. “That’s beside the point.”
She eyed him up and down, her glance scanning him slowly before returning to his face. “I don’t think so,” she said, stepping intimately closer as she angled her head up to his. “You see, Connor, I’m as common as they come. College educated, yes. In hotel management, no less. But there isn’t a drop of blue blood in my entire body.”
So? What did that have to do with anything? “That hasn’t stopped you from being friends with my sister Daisy,” Connor pointed out.
With a sigh of exasperation, Kristy waved off the comparison. “Daisy is her own woman. Besides, she rejected her aristocratic roots from the get-go.” She pointed a finger at him. “You don’t seem to have done that.”
Connor was not going to apologize either for being okay with who and what he was, or for being financially successful. He edged closer. “Now who’s the snob?” he demanded, irked.
“What?” Kristy blinked.
“I didn’t mention your background. I didn’t know what it was.” He pulled off the gloves, first one and then the other. He tossed them onto the sink, then continued in the same taut tone. “Nor did I care.”
“How reassuring.” Kristy made a face at him and tossed down her gloves, too. They landed next to his, in the sink.
“I’m attracted to you,” Connor explained, not embarrassed or ashamed about that, either. “It is as simple and complicated as that.”
Kristy looked him up and down as if to say, Yeah, right. “And the resort located on prime beach property that I recently inherited has nothing to do with said attraction,” she repeated disbelievingly.
Ignoring her gasp of dismay, Connor took her into his arms and brought her close. Knowing there was only one way to make his point, he looked deep into her eyes and said, “You tell me.”
Chapter Five
Kristy saw the kiss coming and reminded herself she had sworn to resist him, if he tried to possess her lips again. But as his mouth took hers, a thrill swept through her and she felt herself wanting and needing Connor Templeton the way she had never wanted and needed anyone. She moaned softly as he bent her backward and deepened the kiss until it was so hot and sensual it stole her breath away. He kissed her as if he meant to make her his, and yearning surged through her, overwhelming her heart and her mind. Surrendering helplessly despite the reservations still swirling inside her, Kristy wreathed her arms about his neck, curving her body into his, and kissed Connor passionately. She loved the dark, male scent of him, and the feel of him pressed up against her, so strong and warm and sexy. She loved the reckless, womanly way he made her feel. As if she still had her whole life—and plenty of passion and tenderness—ahead of her. Her lips parted all the more and she drew his tongue deeper into her mouth, continuing to stroke it with hers, and somehow the parity of their love play made the culmination of their desire all the sweeter. And more erotic. And still he kissed her as if he didn’t care how many roadblocks she threw in their way, or how difficult she made it for them to be together.
His hand slipped beneath her blouse and cupped her breast through the lace of her bra. Trembling with helpless pleasure, Kristy arched her back and luxuriated in the warm ribbons of sensation sweeping through her. She wanted so much more. She wanted them to make love. But they couldn’t, not here and not now, not when she still had so much work to do, and so little time to do it in. She couldn’t afford to mess around here, wearing her heart on her sleeve. Especially knowing that she would likely end up getting her heart broken when Connor inevitably approached her for what he had wanted from her from the first—her resort. So, telling herself it was for the best—for both of them— Kristy splayed her hands across his chest, tore her lips from his, and breathlessly, resolutely, pushed him away.
THE ABRUPT END to their hot embrace caught Connor by surprise. He had wanted to forget the business deal that had brought him here and just let their feelings—instead of logic and reason—take over today. He had wanted to let the complications of their circumstances be damned, and take Kristy somewhere quiet and private and make wild, passionate love to her, so thoroughly and completely that neither one of them would ever forget a single instant of it. And then, only then, deal with the unresolved specifics of their situation. Which, he admitted, were considerable. Not that they had stopped Kristy from responding to the chemistry flowing between them. He could tell by the look in her eyes that she had been as affected as he had by the spontaneous kiss, but was predictably—just as she had the evening before when he had kissed her good-night—determined not to admit her desire for him.
Kristy reg
arded him feistily. Stepping past him, she muttered, “Okay, Connor. You’ve proved your point. You are off the hook.”
He closed the distance between them and kept her from exiting the bathroom. Putting a hand to her shoulder, he turned her to face him. “What are you talking about?” Obviously, she deemed him guilty of something nefarious. He wanted to know what, precisely.
Kristy pressed her lips together resentfully.
“You didn’t have to take me in your arms and kiss me like that to get tossed out of here. Or get out of a chore you are obviously not cut out to do.”
“You don’t honestly think I kissed you to get out of cleaning another commode, do you?” Connor asked incredulously. Did she really think he was that shallow?
Kristy lifted her slender shoulders in an elegant little shrug. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” she told him with exaggerated civility as she danced away from him yet again. Sympathy lit her dark brown eyes as she regarded him kindly. “It’s the worst chore around here.”
Connor couldn’t disagree with her on that as she picked up her discarded rubber gloves. He took them from her and tossed them down again, saying flatly, “And one you as owner of the resort, and an executive in your own right, should not have to do yourself.”
The flush of temper filled Kristy’s cheeks as she swung around to square off with him. “I’m not above any of the work around here, Connor,” she stated archly, as if her upper-middle-class background was somehow more noble or laudable than his aristocratic one. She jabbed a finger at the middle of his chest. “If I can assign an employee to do it, I have to be able to do it myself. Besides—” Kristy let out a quavering breath as she backed up against the bathroom wall “—there’s nothing undignified about doing an honest day’s labor.”
Another dig at his profession, Connor thought, his own seldom used temper beginning to heat up.
She flicked her fingers toward the door. “So you can run along now.”
His lips thinned. “And stop hounding you?”
“Yes,” Kristy snapped, looking even more irked.
Hands braced on his waist, Connor swaggered closer. No way was he going to let her slur on his character go unanswered. “That would be fine, if we were finished here,” he stated calmly, deliberately holding her glance. “We’re not. As you pointed out earlier, we still have twenty-four commodes left. I said I would help you do that. I will.”
She glared at him from beneath thick, dark lashes. Obviously, he thought with satisfaction, she resented his can-and-will-do attitude, his determination to earn her respect and her trust, no matter what it took, or how arduous she made the getting-to-know-each-other process.
“Thanks, but I can take it from here.” She started to move past him. He put out an arm to prevent her from leaving. She heaved a beleaguered sigh and he studied her upturned face.
“You don’t think I have it in me to finish cleaning twenty-four more commodes, do you?”
“No. Frankly, I don’t.”
Connor smirked. This was going to be easy! “Well, I bet you that I do,” he said audaciously. “In fact,” he added, when she continued to stare at him with a combination of amazement and pique, “I bet I could handle working here for an entire week without complaining or being tempted to give up once.” He wouldn’t mind being near her, either.
She rolled her eyes in frank disbelief. “Sure. Whatever, Connor.” Looking as disinterested as it was possible to look, she started to step past him.
Once again he blocked her path. “You don’t believe me?”
“No.” She lounged against the bathroom wall and folded her arms in front of her. “I don’t. In fact, if you want the absolute truth…”
“I do.” He egged her on with a provoking grin.
Kristy lifted an imperious brow. “I don’t think you could last for even a day here doing the kind of work that Harry and I will be doing for the next week, to get ready for the conference coming in.”
“Well, I can. And furthermore, I’ll prove it to you.”
“You’re nuts,” Kristy exclaimed, looking at Connor in a way that made him want to haul her into his arms again and kiss her until she melted against him.
“Ah. So you are afraid to make this wager with me,” Connor taunted playfully, edging closer.
Color flooded her cheeks. Her soft lips formed a kissable pout. “I most certainly am not!” she declared indignantly, her stubborn gaze still trained on his.
“Then prove it to me,” he challenged mildly.
“Fine.” She regarded him with the steely resolve of a Carolina belle, born and bred. “You want to make this stupid bet? We’ll do it.”
Connor grinned in satisfaction at once again getting the upper hand in this battle of wills, whether she knew it yet or not, before going on to stipulate audaciously, “If I win, I get that date I wanted. One night. With you. On the town.” He would use it to good advantage. To romance her and hopefully—finally—get her right where she belonged, in his arms—and in his bed!
Kristy stomped closer. “And if I win,” she stated, eyes sparkling, “and you do cry uncle before the week is out, you—Mr. Let’s Make a Deal—have to promise to never ever mention the sale of my property again. Furthermore, you have to get your partner, Skip Wakefield, to back off, too.”
Connor felt that was a fair price to pay, should he lose the bet. Not that he was going to. “Done,” he said, holding out his palm.
They shook hands. Kristy laughed then, the sound soft and musical. “This is going to be like taking candy from a baby,” she declared happily.
Connor grinned right back, feeling even more confident than she did as he taunted her mischievously, “You just take your prettiest dress out and get it ready to wear. Because come one week from today, sweetheart, you and I are going to paint the town red.”
KRISTY WORKED ONE SIDE of the hall, Connor worked the rooms on the other. To her surprise, he didn’t seem to mind the hard physical labor of the task they had undertaken. Two hours later, they were headed out to the lodge kitchen for a much needed respite and cold drink, when a beautiful woman in her early fifties walked in. Her dark hair was cut in stylish layers that nicely framed her patrician features, and she was wearing a beautiful ultrasuede suit the same color blue as her eyes. Kristy had never met Winnifred Deveraux-Smith, but she recognized the social doyenne of Charleston from pictures on the society page of the Herald, as Winnifred was always presiding over one charity function or another.
Curious as to why she would be there, Kristy strode forward to say hello and introduce herself. “I’m Kristy Neumeyer.”
Winnifred smiled like the gracious lady she was. “I’m Winnifred Deveraux-Smith. Pleased to meet you, dear. Connor…” Winnifred released her clasp on Kristy’s hand and shook Connor’s, too, leaning forward while he kissed her cheek. “Nice to see you, dear. Give your regards to your mother and sisters when you see them.”
“Thanks,” Connor said, regarding Winnifred affectionately. “I will.”
Kristy wasn’t sure why someone of Winnifred’s ilk would be at her place. Unless she wanted to see Harry Bowles. “I’m afraid we’re not open yet,” Kristy said.
Winnifred smiled. “I’m here to see my butler.”
Just then Harry appeared, rolling a cart overflowing with dusty draperies toward the laundry room. He gave the older woman a look simmering with resentment. “I’m not your butler anymore.”
Winnifred propped her hands on her hips and stared at Harry with equal pique. “You have made your point, Harry,” she murmured, clearly upset. “Now get your suit and tie back on and come home.”
Harry paused, straightened and glared right back at Winnifred. “Has anything changed?” he demanded.
Winnifred became flustered. She touched a hand to her hair, making sure it was in place. “You know why it can’t,” she stated miserably, still holding her ex-butler’s eyes.
Harry shrugged, looking as comfortable in his chinos and loose-fitting, tropic
al-weight work shirt as he had in his impeccably tailored suit and tie the previous day. “Then I’m staying.”
“Harry, for heaven’s sake! This is beneath you. Sorry, Ms. Neumeyer, but it is! Harry’s trained for so much more than…than laundry work or whatever it is he’s doing here!”
Harry let go of the laundry cart and stomped closer. “Don’t you mean that I am beneath you, madam?” he asked coldly. “Socially speaking, of course.”
Fearing things would be said that would later be regretted, Kristy cut in and told Winnifred cheerfully, “Harry is simply helping me out here. As soon as we get the resort up and running next week, he will be managing it for me.”
Winnifred looked even more upset. She stared at Harry in stunned amazement. “That means you’ve accepted a permanent position here?” She was obviously aghast.
Looking every bit the handsome blond Brit he was, Harry folded his arms in front of him. “Yes, madam, I have.”
“Then I want one, too,” Winnifred commanded, not to be outdone. She turned to Kristy and asked, “What positions are currently open?”
This was getting really strange, Kristy thought. She shrugged her slender shoulders. “Well, for starters, head chef and dining room manager.”
“I’ll take that one,” Winnifred said, setting down her stylish Kate Spade handbag.
Kristy frowned, aware that this demonstration of one-upmanship had gone on long enough. “This isn’t a game, Mrs. Deveraux-Smith.”
“Call me Winnifred, please.”
“We have fifty guests checking in next Wednesday for a five-day stay. Menus have to be planned. Supplies ordered. The cuisine has to be first-rate.” Otherwise, Kristy would consider the sales conference a failure no matter how much badly needed revenue it brought in.
Winnifred looked both hurt and incensed. “You don’t think I can cook, is that it?”
Taking Over the Tycoon Page 7
