Connor shook his head. “I’ve known Winnifred for a long time. She’s a woman of her word. If she said she’d be here to cook for the conference next week, she will be. After that, if she can’t talk Harry into returning to her employ, well, I don’t know what will happen. I would expect that she would go back to her own life, but I could be wrong about that, too,” he cautioned. “Because I never in a million years would have expected Winnifred to follow Harry all the way out here and take a job at the resort just to be near him.”
“Me, neither.” Kristy had certainly lucked out. Winnifred was an excellent chef and superb hostess, and Kristy expected to learn a lot from the social doyenne, however long Winnifred Deveraux-Smith was at the resort.
“And speaking of them,” Kristy continued as a car turned into the parking lot. “It sounds like they’re back.”
“I’ll go and see if they need some help bringing in Winnifred’s things,” Connor offered.
For a self-made tycoon who had been reared in a luxurious environment, he sure was a hands-on kind of guy. Kristy nodded. “I’ll come, too.”
They walked around to the front of the lodge. Winnifred had been driving her Bentley. Harry looked disgruntled as he got out of the passenger side and went around to the trunk. He lifted half a dozen suitcases and two large hanging garment bags out of the rear of the car and set them on the pavement. Connor slipped inside the lodge and returned with one of the wheeled baggage carts that were stored to the left of the reception desk. He took it to Harry.
Winnifred walked over to Kristy. Although smiling purposefully, she seemed just as distressed as Harry, which made Kristy wonder how well this arrangement was going to work out. Nevertheless, she handed her the key to cottage 2. “You are supplying the linens, aren’t you?” Winnifred asked.
“Yes.” Kristy hesitated. “Although I doubt they are of the quality to which you’re accustomed.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Winnifred said with an airy wave as she followed Kristy into the linen closet to collect a complete set of bed linens, towels and pillows as well as a cache of complementary toiletries. “I can rough it as well as the next person.”
Behind her, Harry scoffed.
Winnifred whirled to face him. She gave the man a goading look that dared him to try and prove her wrong about that. “I can handle the cart and unload my belongings myself,” she announced stiffly.
“Don’t be silly,” Connor and Harry said in unison. There was no way they were letting a woman do that task when two able-bodied men were standing right there.
Harry looked at Connor, man-to-man. “I’ll take it. I’m headed that direction, anyway.”
They charged off, leaving Kristy and Connor in the lobby. “I think this is where we say good-night also,” Kristy said dryly.
Connor knew the evening was still young, as it was only nine o’clock. Most evenings he didn’t return home until midnight, and he rarely left his loft before nine in the morning, unless he had a business appointment or mission to complete, as he had that day. But because Kristy was on a different schedule, with her work and her kids, he nodded agreeably. She went around the reservations desk and came back with the key to Cabin 12. “You’re sure you want to do this?” she said skeptically.
The accommodations weren’t what he was accustomed to living in, but Connor couldn’t have cared less. He had learned a long time ago that it wasn’t the quality of the bed linens or furniture that made him feel at home. It was the people who lived in a place. The warmth they exhibited toward one another. The finest accommodations in the world couldn’t counter an emotionally chilly or aloof atmosphere. But Kristy obviously had yet to learn that. Probably, Connor noted inwardly, because she hadn’t ever lived in the stone-cold, stiffly formal atmosphere he had endured in his youth around his father. Had it not been for his mother, her inherent warmth and loving nature, well, who knew what kind of jerk Connor might have grown up to be?
Admiring how fresh and lovely Kristy looked, despite the very long day she’d had, Connor said, “We had a bet, lest you forget.”
She regarded him with equal parts amusement and challenge. “I haven’t forgotten.”
Connor didn’t imagine she had, since if she lost, she owed him a night on the town. “I’m supposed to be available to do hard labor twenty hours a day for seven days if I want that dinner date with you, and I do. So I have to live up to my commitment,” he told her seriously.
HE LOOKED, Kristy thought as she led the way back to the linen room, prepared to live up to much more than that. The only problem with that, she mused as she opened the door to the twenty-by-twenty-foot room filled with floor-to-ceiling shelves, was it had been so long since she had had a date, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to go on one.
“Seriously,” Connor added, as Kristy led the way to the back of the room, where the boxes of new pillows were kept.
“I’ll give you eight hours off if you want, with no problem,” she offered seriously as she pulled a box from the bottom shelf.
Connor lounged against the shelving unit as Kristy opened the box and removed two plastic-wrapped pillows. “Those weren’t the terms of our bet.”
Trying not to think how cozy it was, being back here with him, she shrugged her shoulders amiably. “So I’m flexible,” she retorted.
Connor grinned as yet another meaning of her words sank in.
“About some things,” Kristy amended hastily. Not about going to bed with you. There, she was determined to be as aloof and practical-minded as they both needed her to be.
Connor smiled again, in a way that let her know he had thought of several other sexy ways her offhand comment could be interpreted. “Besides,” he continued casually, “I’d like to stay here.”
Kristy laid the pillows in his waiting arms. “Why?” She moved over to the shelf where quilted mattress pads were kept.
Connor followed amiably. “I want to understand what has you so tied to Paradise Resort that you’d give up millions to stay here.”
“How about I simply love it?” Kristy said dryly. She added a mattress pad to the two pillows in his arms.
Connor quirked a brow, and they studied each other in silence, until Kristy leaned against the opposite storage shelf and murmured, “You’ve never been attached to any one place, have you?”
Connor shook his head as his eyes roved her face. “I love Charleston,” he confided softly. “But I suspect I’d be just as happy in any other charming antebellum Southern city, if my family and friends were there. But they’re not. So Charleston is where I’ve put down my roots, too.”
Kristy led the way over to where pillow covers and pillow cases were kept. She selected two of each and, deciding he had enough in his arms for the moment, carried those herself. “How is your family, by the way?”
Connor waited as she plucked a white, thermal cotton blanket and bedspread printed with a beach scene from the shelves, and added them to the cache in her arms. “You heard about my parents’ divorce?”
Kristy nodded. It would have been impossible not to read about the scandal of the year. It had been in the society page of the Herald, in Bucky Jerome’s highly touted “Around the City” column. And although Kristy didn’t spend much time reading that, or keeping up with the activities of Charleston’s society set, everyone who was anyone in the area had been talking about it. It was news when two members of one of the most prestigious families in the entire Charleston area split up.
Kristy gave him a sympathetic look. “Daisy mentioned it. She said your father had gone off to Europe.” And although Connor’s sister had been pleased and relieved when her mother had left her father after finally discovering his blatant philandering, there was no telling how Connor felt about what had happened.
“It was for the best,” he said grimly, a look of abject disapproval coming into his smoky-gray eyes. “Given the flagrant nature of my father’s affair and his complete lack of remorse. Even now,” he sighed wearily, “my father t
hinks he had every right to run around that way.”
Kristy could see that Connor did not agree. Relieved that he didn’t share his father’s morals, or more accurately, lack thereof, Kristy picked up two freshly laundered sheets. “Is he still seeing the other woman?”
“No.” Connor followed Kristy over to the cabinet where the complimentary toiletries were kept. “She washed her hands of him, too. Although I’ve no doubt Father has taken up with someone else in Europe. I don’t think he understands even now what a betrayal his actions were to Mother and the entire family.”
“But you do,” Kristy noted softly, as she filled a plastic laundry bag with all the small items the room needed, like tissues, soap, shampoo and plastic beverage cups.
He trained his glance on her. “When a man pledges himself to a woman, he’s honor bound to keep that promise.”
Kristy could tell Connor believed that with all his heart and soul. “I gather that means you have never been unfaithful to a woman?” she queried lightly, realizing she was as deeply curious about him as he was about her.
“No.”
Aware that this pleased her, though she had no reason to feel that way, she said, “Have you ever been married?”
Evidently in no hurry to leave the intimacy of the linen room, Connor set the pillows and linens down on the waist-high table next to him. “Yes.”
This was news, Kristy thought.
Sadness crept into his eyes. “She died.”
Kristy felt her heart go out to him. She knew firsthand how that felt. Losing your mate was devastating no matter the situation. She’d been numb for at least a year. Connor looked as if a part of him were still recovering from the enormity of his loss. “When?” she asked quietly. Putting down her things, too, she reached over and touched his hand compassionately.
Connor twined his fingers with hers as he muttered, “Eleven years ago.” And judging from the closed look on his face, that was all he planned to say.
Kristy had not known Connor’s sister back then. They had become friends recently, at a women-in-business group that encouraged young women to take charge of their own destinies and begin their own businesses.
Before Kristy could change the subject, Winnifred and Harry came back into the lobby. Seeing Kristy and Connor standing near the doorway of the storage room, Winnifred headed straight for them and asked purposefully, “Kristy, do you have any paper I could use? I want to start planning menus for the conference next week.”
“Sure.” Letting Connor take charge of the linens, pillows and bag of toiletries, Kristy went behind the front desk for some stationery and a pen.
“What kind of meals do you want?” Winnifred asked, her expression all-business. Kristy noted she was as busy ignoring Harry as Harry was her.
“It’s up to you,” she answered. “You’re the expert at entertaining. The group is from Chicago, but they will be expecting regional fare. I’d like to stay in the fifty-dollar-per-person range, per day, however. Think you can do that and still have them raving about the cuisine they had here?”
“Leave it to me,” Winnifred said.
His expression grim, Harry headed for the laundry room. “I’m going to keep working on those linens,” he told Kristy.
“You know you don’t have to work this late,” she said. “I’m aware you’ve both already put in a very full day.”
“Believe me, I couldn’t sleep a wink if I tried right now,” Winnifred said stiffly. “I’ll be much happier working.”
“Same here,” Harry said.
Harry and Winnifred headed off in different directions as Connor stood there, his arms laden with the things meant for his cottage. “Now I’m beginning to feel lazy,” he murmured, obviously displeased.
Kristy chuckled as she ducked behind the reservation desk and opened a drawer. “Don’t. I’m going to work your buns off tomorrow.”
He grinned, as if anticipating just that.
“I presume you can find cottage 12 and make up your bed yourself?” Kristy said, handing over the key.
Connor hesitated just long enough for her to realize her handy-guy-to-have-around wasn’t as skilled as he wanted to pretend, even when it came to something that rudimentary. “Sure,” he said, the confidence in his voice at odds with the look in his eyes.
Kristy studied him cheerfully. “You’ve never made a bed in your life, have you?”
“Well, uh…”
She tamped down the smile that tugged at her lips, along with the amused warmth that went with it. “Who does it for you at home?”
He made a comical face, admitting, “Actually, I usually don’t make it at all during the week. But the sheets get changed every Friday when my housekeeper comes in.”
“So I suppose putting hospital corners on a bed is probably beyond you, too,” she guessed, telling herself it was no big deal if she lent him a helping hand.
Connor blinked in confusion. “Hosp—what?”
“Never mind. I’ll show you.” It would only take a moment. And given all the commodes he had cleaned, it was the least she could do, Kristy figured. She walked briskly through the dining room and stuck her head into the kitchen. Winnifred was seated at one of the long, stainless steel counters, writing busily. “I’m going to run down and show Connor how to make up a bed. Can you keep an ear out for the girls? They’re asleep. But if they should wander down from the owner’s suite upstairs, looking for me—”
“I’ll tell ’em where you are, and then come and get you,” Winnifred said.
“Thanks.” Kristy smiled. She strode back to where Connor was patiently waiting for her, and walked out the door with him, heading for the paved walkway that led from the lodge to the cottages. It was a beautiful October night, breezy and warm. Moonlight shimmered on the water, and the sound of the ocean rolling in to shore made a peaceful backdrop. The leaves of the palmetto trees rustled quietly in the wind.
“Now I see why you like this,” Connor murmured, as they walked side by side. He slanted her a glance overtop the linens and pillows in his arms. “But all you would need to have is a home on the beach.”
“Is this a sales pitch, Connor?” Kristy asked as they walked up to the front door of cottage twelve. So he wouldn’t have to put his things down, or hand them over to her, she took the key from him and unlocked the cozy little unit. “Because if it is…”
“You’re not interested in hearing it,” Connor guessed as he sidled past her.
“Nope,” she said firmly. “I’ve made up my mind. And once I have done that it stays made up. Just ask anyone who knows me.”
Connor set the stack on the dresser. As he turned back to her, he drawled, “Ah, a stubborn woman.”
“Yes. I am.” Kristy looked around and tried to see the unit through Connor’s eyes. Unlike the hotel, the cottages had all been cleaned to perfection. And though the queen-size brass bed wasn’t made up, the dresser, desk and windows were all sparkling clean. The cotton drapes and matching upholstered armchairs were fresh and spotless, the adjacent bathroom gleaming. Kristy moved across the distressed hardwood floor to stand on the brightly colored rag rug near his feet. “I suppose you don’t have a stubborn bone in your body.”
“Probably not,” Connor conceded, as he looked around approvingly. Then he turned his probing glance to her. “I’m usually too busy trying to help everyone get along to take a stand and stick with it just for the heck of it.”
“Instead, you’re the consummate middleman,” Kristy noted, not sure when that had started sounding like a good thing to her.
Connor shrugged his broad shoulders unapologetically. “Pretty much.”
Upon further reflection, Kristy wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Oh, she could see how his ability to view all sides of a problem had its advantages, but she wanted him to take sides, too. Specifically, her side. Although she had no right to expect or even ask for that, Kristy knew. Deciding her thoughts about him were becoming far too intimate and personal for comfort, she gav
e him a bracing smile. “Okay.” She rubbed her hands together. “Ready to learn how to make up a bed, hotel style?”
Connor watched as she retrieved the mattress pad. “Sure.”
Kristy opened it up and spread it over the bed, pulling the contoured elastic edges over the two corners on one side, and then, more awkwardly, on the other.
Trying not to think about what it would be like to be in a bed with Connor, instead of just making one up together, Kristy went back to the dresser to retrieve the sheets. The sooner she got out of here, she decided, the better. Feeling a self-conscious heat move from her body to her face, she kept her eyes away from his and explained, “The first thing we do is unfold the sheet and center it on the bed.”
Connor looked at the flat, hemmed edges of one sheet, then checked out the other. “Shouldn’t one of these sheets be different from the other?” he asked, frowning.
So he knew a lot more than he thought, Kristy noted, feeling oddly pleased that he wasn’t a complete novice on the domestic front. “At home, yeah, you can buy contoured sheets with elastic around the edges, but in a hotel or a hospital you usually just use two flat sheets. Which is why we need hospital corners.”
He listened intently, his expression so deadly serious and perplexed that it was all Kristy could do not to laugh. “This really isn’t hard, Connor,” she soothed, reaching over to touch his arm reassuringly. “Guys in the military do it all the time.”
“Oh.” He began to relax.
Kristy opened up the sheet and spread it across the bed. With a quick flick of her wrists, she centered it on the mattress, then tucked the excess linen between the mattress and box springs at both the head and foot of the bed on her side. Connor did the same on his.
“Now tuck it in along the edges on your side, just like I’m doing. Yeah. Like that. Good. Now miter the ends—”
“Miter?” Connor paused, confused.
“Angle the corner of the fold.” Kristy demonstrated what she meant, so the sheet was wrapped snugly and neatly on all sides. “The way you do the ends of the wrapping paper on a Christmas present.”
Taking Over the Tycoon Page 10
