Page 6 of Booked for Summer

Jeremy shrugged, the rebuke rolling off him like water off a flamingo’s back. ‘I thought we established that I’m not most people. That’s why you hired me.’

Liam had recruited the guest-services manager five years ago when he’d built his first hotel on the island, later expanding it to become Haven Resort, Nantucket. Most times, they tolerated each other. Other times, the man deliberately, or so it seemed, found the right buttons to press. Ashley, the resort manager, had acted as a well-needed buffer between them but until he found a replacement for her, they were stuck trying to rub along together without incurring too many dents. ‘What’s gone wrong now?’

Jeremy frowned. ‘Don’t you mean how can you help me?’

‘You don’t need my help.’ There was a reason he’d asked the man to act as deputy manager. ‘If you’ve come to see me, it’s to give me bad news.’

‘Well, that kind of depends on your definition of bad. For some, bad would mean something serious, like a fire, or an outbreak of salmonella. For others?—’

‘Just tell me.’ He’d had a brutal few days in Cape Cod, trying to buy land from a man in his late sixties who seemed to enjoy giving him the run-around. Liam half suspected he was being dangled on a string for the sheer entertainment of it. After that debacle, he’d travelled straight to Nantucket for a meeting that had been cancelled. Since then, he’d been stuck in this office for– he glanced at his watch– over four hours, making calls that should have been made last week, and scrolling through endless emails. He felt punch drunk with tiredness, his temper on a knife edge.

‘Leroy said the delivery he’s been waiting on still hasn’t arrived, so we’re running with very abridged menus tonight.’

Their rich guests only had a choice of five main courses instead of ten. ‘And?’

‘And the couple in the presidential suite say the shower isn’t working. Of course, they have two, but?—’

‘The price they’re paying, everything should be in full working order.’ He worked in the service industry. Liam understood why his customers expected what they’d paid for, just as he understood why they’d get some bad reviews as a result of tonight’s so-called limited menu. But when you’d lived in a room with a shared bathroom down the hallway and existed off canned soup from food banks because your grandma had lost one of her regular cleaning jobs, it was hard to feel too much sympathy. ‘Give them my room. I’ll sleep in the boat.’ He had a perfectly good house on Martha’s Vineyard, was having another one built on Nantucket, but he often preferred to spend the night on his yacht. There was something soothing about being on water. The gentle sway helped him sleep, something he’d had a problem with since boarding school.

‘Right.’ Jeremy shifted on his feet. ‘Now, don’t take this the wrong way. You are, of course, a joy to work with, but is there any update on a replacement for Ashley?’

‘I’m working on it.’

Jeremy cleared his throat. ‘You know there are rumours circulating about why she left.’

‘I don’t pay you to listen to rumours.’

‘No, but if you toldmewhy she left, I could quash the rumours and then you wouldn’t be paying half your staff to listen to them.’

‘It’s nobody’s business.’ Hotel gossip was vicious– Liam knew from bitter experience. ‘Anything else?’ He sounded too blunt, but he needed to get out of these four walls and into a shower. Follow that with an unwinding drink at the bar, and then sleep for twelve hours.

Yeah, as if he’d ever managed more than four.

As always, Jeremy ignored his bad mood. ‘That’s all I have to ruin your day with for the moment. I’m sure I can find something more for tomorrow. Enjoy your evening, boss.’

* * *

After moving his suitcase onto the boat– he’d not had time to unpack so at least that made giving up his suite easy– Liam took a shower, dried off and looked longingly at the king-sized bed. His body wanted to collapse onto the mattress, but he knew his mind would refuse to rest with it. With a sigh, he dragged on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and slipped on some flip-flops. The sun was setting as he headed towards the resort, painting the sky in vivid hues of pink and orange. This was his favourite time of the day on the island, the light more mellow, the hustle and bustle of the tourist crowds temporarily lulled as people disappeared back to their hotels for a shower before heading out to eat.

At the bar by the beach he spotted Leroy, Jeremy’s partner, and the man responsible for the resort’s three bars and restaurants. As if he sensed him, Leroy looked up from where he was talking with a group of guests and nodded in Liam’s direction. He was almost the total opposite to his fiancé; rich brown skin to Jeremy’s freckled white, dark hair to Jeremy’s ginger. Also, quieter and more serious, which probably explained why Liam felt more comfortable dealing with him.

‘Usual?’ Leroy asked, slipping behind the bar.

Liam nodded. They often conversed like this, a single word, a look, a movement of the head.

Raising the glass– a double Macallan 18, neat– in salute, Liam wandered off towards the beach. Discarding his flip-flops, he walked into the sea and savoured the first sip of the smooth and slightly sweet whisky. Also ridiculously expensive, but that’s why he’d first chosen it. When you didn’t have money but were trying to bluff obscenely rich people into investing in you, drinking ludicrously expensive whisky was as important as wearing a Tom Ford suit and custom-made shirt. Six years later, and he’d developed a taste for the damn stuff.

An exclamation of surprise to his left caused him to turn, and that’s when he saw her. The sexy blonde from the boat. She’d sunk into one of the sprawling sofas set on the sand and from the way she was frantically wiping at her sundress, she’d managed to spill her drink down herself.

Instinctively he set off towards her. He wished he could say it was the gentleman in him, wanting to help, but he knew himself better than that. This instinct was primal. Jade had oozed sex, and his body had suddenly decided sleep could wait.

‘Jade. We meet again.’

She jerked around, her expression shifting from surprise to embarrassment to something that looked like the same crackling sexual awareness he was experiencing. ‘Oh, it’s you. Kicked anyone else off your boat recently?’

He felt a flash of shame. His grandma would slap him if she knew how rude he’d been. ‘I apologise for earlier. You caught me at a bad moment.’ He indicated towards the now empty cocktail glass in her hand. ‘Can I buy you another?’

She nibbled on her bottom lip, which did not help his straining libido one little bit. ‘That would be great, thanks. Unless you’re doing it to watch me throw another cocktail down my dress, because let me tell you, once is definitely enough.’

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