Page 5 of Into the Lion's Den (Secrets of the Northland Shifters)

“Sorry.” I stepped back in mortification, then looked away, pretending to study a large oil painting of purple flowers. “Got distracted by the lobby. It’s stunning.”

“Thank you,” he said. “My father designed it.”

I sensed movement out of the corner of my eye and looked back to see that Reese had made a sweeping gesture with one of my suitcases. The sleeve of his T-shirt strained against his bicep, and he tipped his head toward an open door a few feet beyond the front desk.

“Your office.” His voice took on a rumbling quality, and his eyes were just as potent as before. I couldn’t tell if he was second-guessing my promotion, or if he was just naturally intense.

Regardless, he was still waiting for me to enter the office first, so I did. Inside, there was a wide desk with two computer monitors. The ledge under the large picture window was covered with plants, their green leaves practically glowing in the sunlight.

Opposite the desk was a small cream-colored couch with needlepoint pillows in abstract designs. A bookcase stood behind the desk with several thick three-ring binders—all dated and labeledVendors,Menus, andReservations. It looked like the old events coordinator had organized everything nicely before she left. Maybe that meant I could pull this off.

I walked behind the desk to try out the chair and rubbed my fingertips on the leather armrests. Buttery soft.

“Do you like the chair?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s great.” But what would John Riordan think about this change in my work assignment?

“The planner for all bookings and events is in the desk drawer,” Reese said.

I pulled it out. It was another three-ring binder with a calendar section, as well as a section for contacts, notes, and a plastic sleeve for collecting business cards. Pretty old school.

I flipped the calendar section to May.

“In addition to managing the normal reservations,” Reese said, “we have two big events this spring that are already on the books. You’ll be in charge of coordinating with the kitchen staff and housekeeping.

“The first event is the annual fishing opener. We cater to an elite clientele—mostly CEOs from Minneapolis, Madison, and Thunder Bay—who come to fish the lake and show off their new boats and equipment. The same folks have been coming every year for the last decade or more, and everything is already set.

“The second is Omni-Vantage’s corporate retreat. The dinner still has to be arranged. That’s on you. Once we get into summer, we have the staff-appreciation party, but the rest of—”

He stopped talking.

I paused what I was doing and forced myself to meet his gaze. “I’m listening.”

“What are you doing?” His voice almost sounded like a growl.

“Oh.” I looked down at the planner. I’d unlocked the three metal rings and had been reorganizing the sections the way I liked them.

If I had to do this job, I was going to do it efficiently. “Just a few personal-preference changes.”

Reese frowned again. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make any changes to the way we do things. Even in regard to the smallest detail.”

“Oh.” I put my hands in my lap. I wouldn’t think reorganizing a notebook warranted such a strong reaction, but okay.

“As I was saying, the rest of the calendar is pretty slim as far as large groups go, so whatever you can swing.”

“This place would be a beautiful spot for wedding receptions. I could—”

“No,” Reese said.

I blinked. I must have heard him wrong. “Did you say...no?”

“We don’t do weddings here.”

My head jerked, still not following. “Why not? This place is gorgeous.”

“That was never part of my father’s vision. This is a man’s resort.”

That was a weird thing to say. It also made him sound like a bit of a dick. “Men get married.”

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