Page 3 of The Billionaire's Kiss
Chapter Two
Orla
“All I want to do is sleep the remainder of the day away so I can find out what this Austin nightlife is all about.” I couldn’t keep the excitement—or the exhaustion—out of my voice. Though I couldn’t wait to start exploring, the nine-and-a-half-hour flight from Ireland to Texas had been brutal, leaving me jetlagged to the max.
The group I was traveling with was twenty strong, and it took two vans to take us from the airport to Whispers Resort and Spa in Austin, Texas. We’d traveled all night, arriving at our destination at ten in the morning. We were staying seven nights, and I hoped to have fun every single one of them. I’d worked my ass off for an entire year just to be able to afford a week’s vacation.
They said everything was bigger in Texas, and I wanted to see that for myself. As we pulled up to the front entrance of the new resort, I couldn’t even see the top of the building, it was so high. So far, Texas was living up to the hype.
We piled out of the vans, the majority of us still yawning and stretching, and porters came out in droves to unload our luggage, greeting us as they got straight to work. “Welcome to Whispers, y’all.”
Moving with the crowd toward the double glass doors that slid open for us, I gazed at the lobby, as did everyone else. It was modern, stylish, and well-lit.
Working at a resort in Ireland myself, I loved visiting other resorts to see how mine compared. So far, this one was winning. But I wasn’t ready to concede yet. To me, a great resort experience means getting along with the staff, so I was eager to see how friendly they were. Our staff was amazingly friendly and a real point of pride for me. I had my doubts about Americans being able to offer as high a standard of courtesy as we Irish did.
“Hello, Kenmare citizens,” I heard a man call out. Though other people in my group were blocking my view of the new arrival, his deep voice reached all the way to the tips of my toes. “Welcome to Whispers Resort and Spa. I am Warner Nash, one of the owners of this fine place and the man who helped make your trip happen.”
Craning my neck to see the man to whom the voice belonged—one so smooth and deep, with a touch of what I could only assume was a Texas accent—I caught a glimpse of him as he came our way.
He was easy on the eyes, standing at a bit over six feet, with his broad shoulders giving him a rather powerful appearance. Beneath his dark hair, which was short and neatly combed to the side with the part on the left, his clean-shaven face glowed under the enormous crystal chandelier that hung above us. A black suit, with matching matte black dress shoes and a pale blue button-down underneath the jacket, brought out the blue in his kind eyes.
Eyes that found mine. As soon as our gazes met, he zoomed in on me. “I hope your trip was a pleasant one.”
As he looked at me, I slipped through the others to get to the front. “It wasn’t too bad,” I said with a grin.
“Glad to hear that, Miss—?” he asked for my name.
“Orla Quinn.” He was so young and handsome, too. I was surprised to see he was so young, considering his relationship with this amazing place. “You said you’re the owner here?” I blurted out.
“I am. My four brothers and I own this fine establishment,” pride resonated in his smooth voice. Looking at him—listening to him—was an experience. It reminded me of the Jameson Bow Street 18 Years Irish whiskey.
As a barmaid, I often found myself thinking in terms of liquor. “But you’re so young.”
“Just turned thirty-one on the fifth of December last month,” he said. “Nice of you to notice.”
“Mind yourself, Orla,” came the voice of Lilith O’Hare from behind me. “We’re all ready to get to our rooms, girl.”
The young owner’s eyes were still on me. “I’ll get out of your way so you can all check in and get to your rooms. If anyone would like a tour of this grand facility, I’ll be in my office over there.” He pointed to a grey door with his name on a brass plate at the top of it. “Feel free to stop by anytime you like.”
I watched him walk away, biting my lower lip. I had just met the man, and he was already making things quiver within me. I liked it.
Wasting no time, I checked myself in, then headed to his office. He intrigued me to no end, and my feet wouldn’t hear of going anywhere other than straight to him.
With a swift knock, I asked, “Can I come in?”
The door opened, and there he stood. Being that close to him allowed me to take in his height up close as he towered over my five-foot-five frame. I didn’t want to have to crane my neck as I looked up at him, so I took a step back.
“Orla, right?” he asked with a smile. Perfect teeth, white as any pearl, gleamed against his lips. The lower one a bit plumper than the upper, his lips looked utterly kissable.
I had to stop looking at his mouth lest he thinks me a tramp, so I moved my eyes to his gorgeous blue ones. “Yes, Orla Quinn from Kenmare, County Kerry, Ireland. I work at a luxury resort and spa in Kenmare called Sheen Falls Lodge. I’m a barmaid at the Sheen Cocktail Bar. I’d love a tour of this grand hotel of yours, Mr. Nash.”
“Mister?” Shaking his head, it was obvious he’d have none of that. “You call me Warner. You’re not that much younger than I am. Or so I think.”
“I’m twenty-seven. All four years separate us. I suppose I can call you by your first name, Warner.” I couldn’t recall ever being so drawn to someone. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the rest of my group heading to the elevators. “They’re all too tired to take a tour right now.” I’d been dreadfully tired upon arrival. But now that I’d met him, all that jetlag had somehow disappeared. “No need to wait.”
Offering me his arm, he smiled as I looped mine through. “Then tour, we shall.” Stepping away from his office, he said, “Ask me all the questions you want. I adore your accent, Orla.”
“I find yours quite adorable as well.” I’d always found it easy to talk to people, even if I’d just met them. I had to, working in the field I did—it made it impossible to be shy. “Do they call that a southern accent or a Texas accent?”
