Me and Mr. Jones (Heartbreak Hotel Book 2)

by Christie Ridgway

  But because she’d been raised to gracefully cooperate and always fulfill expectations—and found she had an innate capacity for it—Audra pulled the door open to let the maintenance guy in. Aware he was at her heels, she drifted back to the living area, slipping off the sleep mask and dropping it on a nearby table. Drapes covered the windows so it was nearly dark, the only light coming from the British crime drama she’d been half-watching on the television before dozing off.

  Zombie-style, she headed for her spot on the sofa and curled up there again, knees drawn up and hands beneath her cheek. From the TV, the chilling notes of a blood-curdling scream signified another hapless villager had been horribly murdered, their body to be found later in a hazardous bog or under the charming footbridge over a babbling brook. The pair of detectives, he of the rumpled suit and she of the bad perm, would stand over the body soon, looking perplexed. Tortured not only by the crimes that remained unsolved but also by their own complicated lives.

  She snuggled deeper into the cushions and watched rain sluice over the killing site. Washing away evidence, of course.

  An inarticulate sound, something masculine that either expressed amusement, disfavor, or some combination of the two, sounded from behind the couch. Hmm. Maintenance Man had yet to move into one of the bathrooms attached to the bungalow’s two spacious bedrooms. She ignored him, as she really didn’t feel like human contact. Her best friend, Lilly, had left the bungalow to go back home a few days ago and the solitude since had been just fine by Audra.

  “Do you really like this kind of entertainment?” the man asked.

  “Hmm,” she said, electing not to tell him the cheerless drama matched her mood. No reason this stranger needed to know she’d been rejected mere hours before becoming a wife, but she thought that happenstance would put anybody off their A game. Though it had been Lilly’s idea they check in at The Hathaway, Audra had been glad for a place to retreat and lick her wounds. Since her arrival, she’d vacillated between numbing her brain with violent entertainment programming and wracking her brain to figure out how her relationship had gone wrong.

  Her ex-fiancé, Jacob, had never expressed a single misgiving during their engagement. She’d thought he’d been as committed to their shared future as she. Since he’d jilted her with that crappy text the morning of the wedding, she’d gone over and over the last year, even as she’d been shaken by her own deep, deep—and unspoken to anyone—undercurrent of relief.

  When she at last heard Maintenance Man move off toward the extra bedroom where Lilly had slept, she snuggled even deeper and sighed. The sooner he got to work, the sooner she’d have her unsullied solitude again. Wallowing was a sin quite similar to sloth, she supposed, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

  Sometime into the next gruesome death, she heard the heavy footsteps of the stranger. She instinctively glanced over her shoulder—hey, just confirming the creepy headmaster who for sure must be the perp hadn’t somehow migrated from British television to Santa Barbara real life, just like anyone would do—and got an eyeful of the back view of Maintenance Man crossing into her bedroom.

  He switched on the lights as he entered and something about his illuminated figure snagged her attention. She stared at those wide shoulders and the set of his head on them, his long legs and large hands, and felt a new alertness come over her.

  Puzzled by her response, she directed her attention back to the screen, but it wouldn’t hold. The body count hadn’t increased before she found herself on her sock-shod feet and was making her way toward the sounds of Maintenance Man’s activity.

  The bedroom was generously-sized and the drapes were closed here, too. By the light from one bedside lamp, she took a quick look around to ensure she hadn’t left anything personal and embarrassing about. But her luggage—packed for a Tahitian honeymoon—remained stowed in the closet. She’d made the bed herself after crawling from it to decamp to the living area sofa.

  As for the bathroom, her toiletries remained tucked in her suitcases. She’d used the toothbrush, paste, and floss provided by the hotel and meticulously avoided her reflection in the mirror.

  Approaching the lovely en suite with its rose-colored marble, huge walk-in shower, and separate soaker tub, Audra only had eyes for the stranger.

  He knelt on the floor, his head poking into the vanity cabinet beneath the sink. The pose pulled the material of his jumpsuit-thing tight to his muscled butt and she felt another little jolt. Huh.

  Probably sensing her presence, he backed up a bit and turned his head to look over his shoulder.

  Huh.

  The man was astonishingly handsome, now that she wasn’t blinded by the harsh light of day. Short dark hair, angled cheekbones and strong jaw, a mouth not too full or too thin, but just right. His thick eyelashes sat like a straight dark shelf over cat-green eyes.

  A shiver of nerves tracked down her spine.

  Good-looking men intimidated her, they always had. They struck her as another rule to follow, another expectation to live up to, and she’d avoided every Adonis that turned the eye of other girls. Her fiancé—ex-fiancé—had been lean and fit, though without the kind of heavy muscle that was hinted at beneath Maintenance Man’s clothing. Jacob’s hair had flopped over his forehead in a boyish way that she’d found…cute.

  There was nothing boyish about the guy kneeling just a few feet away. Nothing as banal as cute.

  As she watched, one of his dark eyebrows crooked up.

  What? Oh. She’d approached him and he likely wondered why. She couldn’t exactly touch her chest and say “filings” then point to him and explain “magnet,” though she supposed it wouldn’t surprise him. A gorgeous man like this would have women following him all the time.

  He’d have a reason to be arrogant.

  Her stomach clenched as the words “gorgeous” and “arrogant” reminded her of something she’d said to Lilly last week. Something she’d said she wanted. She’d even considered writing it down on one of her “It’s Time to Do” lists.

  But no, she could never get Maintenance Man to fall in love with her.

  Even if breaking his heart might, as she’d posited to Lilly, get her mojo back.

  His second eyebrow winged up and he shifted to face her completely. It was then she realized she’d been staring like a fruitcake.

  Yeah, definitely this guy would never be attracted to her.

  “I, um, was just, um…” She tried coming up with an excuse for why she’d followed him in here. “I wanted to know if you needed any help, Mr. Jones.”

  “Jones?”

  She nodded toward his wide chest. Wow. Very wide. Very hard, she guessed, as well. “Your name. It’s there on your jumpsuit.”

  “Jumpsuit?” His expression turned perplexed—or perhaps insulted—and he glanced down. “Coveralls.”

  Coveralls, jumpsuit. Potato, potahto. “Right.”

  “You know something about plumbing?” he asked.

  “Well, no.” Now she was beginning to feel more flustered, which was another reason why handsome men intimidated her. Or this one, at least. He exuded confidence. No doubt he felt as comfortable with a wrench as he would with a woman’s body.

  Wait…where had that thought come from?

  To distract herself from the hot tingles rushing over her skin, she continued on. “But I could look it up on YouTube. There’s DIY tutorials for anything. Last month I made tiered dessert platters by gluing together plates and upside-down glass candlesticks. A favor for a friend who was hosting her sister’s birthday party.”

  At the mention of a birthday, Maintenance Man’s brows lowered and he turned back to his work. “Thanks anyway, but I’ve got this.”

  Which left her with nothing to do but return to the living area unless she wanted to hang around and ogle his backside. As tempting as it was, Audra Montgomery didn’t gawk at strange men, no matter how tingly she felt.

  How alert.

  Alive.

  Her blood was actuall
y humming beneath the surface of her skin, she realized, as she settled back on the couch. Her palms confirmed that her face was hot and she had a hard time concentrating on her show’s body count when her pulse felt like tiny elves were pounding tiny mallets at her wrists and at her throat.

  But she supposed a few more people died as Mr. Jones continued his work. How could these rustic hamlets maintain a feasible population, Audra wondered, when the citizens kept kicking the bucket via violent means?

  She said as much to Maintenance Man as he returned to the living room, his attention once more captured by the TV’s screen and the depiction of the latest grisly murder.

  He paused. “You know this isn’t a documentary, right?”

  “But still, do they think viewers don’t notice?” She turned her head to look at him, allowing herself another chance to gaze on his firm jaw and long-fingered hands. “All these deaths over all these several crime dramas defy logic. The UK would be down to, say, a population of fourteen, maybe twelve. Not counting the Royal Family, of course.”

  Okay, now she knew she was babbling, her brain-to-tongue connection as affected as the rest of her by his extremely handsome face and big, muscled body. Suddenly horribly self-conscious, she jumped up and busied herself at the flowers in a vase on the nearby desk. Three elaborate bouquets were delivered each day and she often occupied herself by changing their arrangement. It was a hobby of hers, and she found playing with flowers relaxing.

  “You could use some company,” Mr. Jones pronounced, and she could tell he thought her a bubble off because of her last comment. “You’re here all alone?”

  “My brother’s staying at the resort too,” she said. “But he disappears more often than not.”

  “Right,” Maintenance Man muttered.

  Audra bit her lip. The stranger likely was wondering who would sign the commitment papers when she started into another odd babble. Clearing her throat, she attempted to sound matter-of-fact instead of mad as a hatter. “You’re done then?”

  Without answering, he strode toward the thick drapes. “Nobody does well in darkness like this.” He didn’t hesitate to fling back the heavy material.

  Light flooded the room. Gasping, Audra’s hands went to her eyes. “Ow. Ow ow ow.” It took a moment for her to become acclimated enough to look at him again, her palms acting as a shade at her forehead. “What did you do that for?” she asked.

  “You could use some company,” he said again.

  Her stomach clenched again and more nerves skittered down her back. Was…was he hinting that he wanted to be that company? Could it possibly be so?

  She dropped her hands to press them to the absorbent cotton of her thick sweatpants. His green gaze hadn’t left her face, but she could feel the skin of her body reacting as if he touched her elsewhere—long fingers toying with her nipples, those just-right lips at her belly, his hot breath between her legs.

  Heat and wet trickled there.

  Audra’s breath backed up in her lungs. What would she say if he asked to see her? Her mind could hardly wrap around the thought, but a feminine, primal part of her was ready to wrap her trembling legs around his waist, no matter how out-of-character or ill-advised. A man had never stirred such a visceral, physical reaction in her. More nerves quivered under her skin and she licked her lips. “I—”

  “Any other problems with your accommodations?” he asked.

  Confused by the sudden switch of topics, she shook her head. “No.”

  “Shower’s working fine?”

  “Yes.” She supposed.

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then enjoy the rest of your stay,” Mr. Jones, the maintenance man said, and strode from the bungalow, shutting the door behind him.

  Audra ran the perplexing exchange through her head as she stared at where the man had just been standing. Beating back disappointment that came with a healthy dose of relief—would she really have agreed to date a stranger, no matter how sexy?—she decided it had clearly been projection, that part where she’d thought he was working up to asking her out. But that thing about the shower…what the hey?

  Then dread curdled the contents of her stomach. She glanced down at her stretched out sweat suit, put her hands to her tangled mess of hair. Then, on slow feet, Audra headed for her bathroom, and for the first time in several days took a good look at her reflection.

  And swallowed a shriek.

  Oh, God. Oh, no.

  It was bad. Very bad.

  All right. Okay. For sure, she’d never see Mr. Jones the maintenance man ever again.

  If the fates were kind. If they were not, and Audra encountered that specimen of gorgeous masculinity once more, she’d find the nearest hole in the ground and promptly drop inside it.

  Chapter 2

  The next day, Kane’s two sisters, Amber and Jessie, strolled into his office on their long legs, bearing three cups of coffee. “You’re a welcome sight,” he said, smiling at them and reaching for the mug Jessie extended, then read aloud the words printed on its side. “‘The future is always beginning right now.’”

  He slanted a glance at his youngest sister. “Trite, but true.”

  Jessie grinned at him. “I bought it for a buck at a yard sale this morning. I knew you’d appreciate it.”

  Though it was Saturday, all three of them were scheduled to work. The hospitality business ramped up on the weekends, so top management took their days off during the week. He sipped at the coffee as the young women dropped gracefully into his visitors’ chairs. Both very pretty, with friendly, open faces, they were often mistaken as twins. But Amber, with her dark gold hair was older by a year-and-a-half. Jessie’s hair was lighter, a sandy shade, and they both had the physiques of beach volleyball players, a game they’d all pursued growing up and continued to enjoy.

  When they didn’t state the purpose of their visit right away, he looked at them warily. “Is there something I should know?” He’d been glad of their distraction upon arrival, he had what he considered a Friday the thirteenth-hangover, and thought the pair would dispatch the unease he couldn’t seem to shake. But now they seemed a little…anxious.

  Which made him the same.

  “Are we still getting reservation requests from Daffy Duck?” he asked.

  Amber shook her head. “Gary in IT had that issue solved by noon yesterday.”

  The reservation system and their other technology needs were housed and maintained in a separate location north of downtown Santa Barbara, closer to the university. The facility served all of the Hathaway properties worldwide and while Kane had been concerned by the seeming breach, it was no surprise their team had managed to eliminate the problem swiftly.

  “I knew we could count on Gary and his group.”

  “It didn’t hurt that I put a little bug in the ear of Nolan Black Senior about Nolan Black Junior’s vacation hijinks when they checked out this morning.”

  “Isn’t that the kid who was trying to hack into the system to bypass the parental controls on the TV in his room?”

  “Yep. His parents didn’t want him playing video games—apparently he was supposed to be taking a break. When Gary caught on to that piece of mischief, Junior decided to amuse himself in other ways.”

  “How old is he?”

  “Twelve. If we had pay-per-view porn available on our entertainment system it could have been worse.”

  “Tell Gary to keep tabs on the kid. Maybe we want to hire him in a few years.” Kane paused, looking from one sister’s face to the other. “That’s it? There’s no snakes in the swimming pool or twenty-four-hour poker games going on in one of the suites?”

  Both incidents had occurred in the last month.

  “Nope,” Amber said. “We’re here on personal business.”

  Jessie nodded, then cleared her throat. “It’s time to plan your birthday celebration.”

  Swallowing his groan, he took a deliberate glance at his watch. “I don’t know if I hav
e time…” What he should have known was that this was coming. It probably had been lingering in the back of his mind, the source of that pervading sense of disquiet he couldn’t seem to shake.

  “You have nothing pressing to do right now,” Amber said firmly.

  Time to try another tack. Would honesty work? “Maybe we should go low-key this year, really low-key, as in skipping the celebration altogether.”

  Jessie’s expression fell, looking as if he’d broken her favorite toy and stolen the last of her Halloween candy. “But we never skip,” she said. “We always do something special together for each of our birthdays.”

  How could he tell her he wasn’t in the mood for it this time, when he’d never been in the mood for it? Their parents hadn’t made any kind of fuss over him from the beginning, nor for his little sisters either. Jim and Leigh Hathaway were too selfish to make anyone else’s day a focus of their lives, not even once a year.

  It wasn’t until Aunt Madeline, their mother’s aunt, had visited their house on Portola Road that the little girls first received the kind of loving care they deserved. A confirmed spinster, she’d witnessed the benign neglect that was the hallmark of the Hathaways’ parenting style and moved herself into the big estate, declaring she was some kind of governess-cum-nanny for the children. Jim and Leigh had accepted her presence with the same unconcern that they showed toward their offspring.

  After all, it only made it easier for them to stay out until all hours and take those long, childless vacations they so enjoyed.

  By the time Aunt Madeline arrived, Kane had become quite self-sufficient, finding any guidance he needed from the live-in handyman. But the girls had taken to their great-aunt and she, who didn’t know quite what to make of a boy-child anyway, had mostly left him alone. He was grateful for that and for the hand she’d had in raising Amber and Jessie.

  From her, they’d known what it was to be loved and learned to make friends and make connections with other people. Unlike Kane, who was maybe more like Jim and Leigh than he liked to think about.