Flirting with Paradise

by Chris Keniston

  ***

  Somewhere inside every grown man was a small part of him that would always be a little boy. The little boy in Brad wished they could have gone shopping for Jason's baseball supplies tonight. Hope had casually mentioned that after this evening’s adventures Jason would be out like a light the second his head hit the pillow. She was only off by a few minutes.

  From the rearview mirror Brad could see the little boy was already soundly asleep in the backseat.

  Only one more block until he'd pull into the large lot for Hope's apartment complex. The section of town she lived in bordered a rather expensive area and belonged to an excellent school. Living in the humble, but well-kept neighborhood no doubt came with the perks of more affordable rents and the benefits of the better nearby elementary school.

  Turning into the lot and taking the space closest to her door, Brad slipped the car into Park and turned off the engine. "Looks like he didn't quite make it to his pillow."

  "Give me a few minutes to unlock the door, and I'll come back and get him." Hope unbuckled her seat belt.

  "I'll help."

  "You don't …" She bit her lower lip, the words she was about to add dying on her lips, and chuckled. "Thank you."

  They were making progress. Next time he wanted to do something for her, hopefully she wouldn't protest at all. "My pleasure."

  Brad opened the car door, unbuckled Jason's seat belt, practically dragged him from the car before tossing the boy over his shoulder, and, despite the juggling to get Jason into a comfortable carrying position, the squirt never blinked. Kids really did sleep like logs.

  Up the stairway, Hope held open her front door. "Follow the hall to the bedroom."

  Behind him, her low heels clicked against the tile floor. "His bed is on the left," she whispered.

  The average-size bedroom had a twin bed on either side. Brad laid down Jason and Hope immediately stripped him of his shoes and socks.

  "Anything else I can do?"

  She nodded. "His pajamas are on a hook at the back of the bedroom door."

  Retracing his steps, Brad closed the door and found two hooks. One higher up that held what had to be Hope’s nightgown. Most of the women he'd known in recent years slept in some comfortable combination of shorts and a cami top or a skimpy negligee. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a woman in a full-length nightgown. On a lower hook, level with the doorknob, was a pair of Ninja Turtle pajamas. Bingo.

  Standing next to the bed, he handed Hope the pajamas. "When he's out, he's really out."

  "Just like a rag doll."

  In no time, Hope had the boy in his nightwear and tucked under the blankets. Only a few minutes after that, she and Brad stood in the middle of the living room.

  "Could I interest you in a cup of coffee or tea?" she asked.

  "Coffee would be nice." He followed her the few feet into the tiny kitchen. Leaning back against the counter, he could take in pretty much the entire apartment. From what he could see, the place only had one bedroom. "Do you share the bedroom with Jason?"

  "Sometimes." She lifted her chin, pointing toward the living room. "The sofa opens. I usually sleep there."

  "When do you sleep in the other room?"

  "Once in a while he'll have a bad dream, or we'll do an indoor campout. On the odd day that I have to put in extra hours or fill in for a sick housekeeper—"

  "Like yesterday?"

  "Exactly like yesterday. Nothing replaces a real bed." She pulled two cups from the upper cupboards. "How do you take your coffee?"

  "Black."

  "Well, that's easy." With her back to him, she continued to move about the small space, pulling out spoons and saucers while the older coffeemaker spewed steam.

  "How long have you lived here?"

  "Since Jason started school. I had to choose between a better school and backyard."

  "And you picked the school."

  "We can always go play in a park. But these are the important years to establish his education base." The machine stopped making noises, and she filled two cups. "I keep saying someday I'll go back to school, get a degree, make more money. But then I come home dead tired and think living in an apartment isn't so horrible. I mean, lots of people buy condos. It's pretty much the same thing."

  "I suppose." He refrained from launching into the tax and real estate benefits of owning property. Especially since, at this moment, alarm bells sounded in the back of his head. All management positions with EastCo companies, including hotel housekeeping managers, required a college degree.

  "Did I lose you?" Hope stood, holding out a cup of coffee to him.

  "No. Sorry. My mind wandered."

  "Hard day?" She turned and strolled into the living room, taking a spot on the edge of the sofa, immediately kicking off her shoes and tucking her feet underneath her.

  "Not really hard, just busy." The only skin showing was her knees and yet, he couldn’t seem to stop staring at them. What was wrong with him? Even leg men didn’t get all bent out of shape over four inches of exposed knee.

  She blew on the hot coffee. "Geraldo is a nice guy. His eldest son just came to work with us." Once again she puckered her lips creating ripples along the top of the warm liquid, and had successfully captured his attention away from her knees.

  "So he said." Brad dragged his attention away from her pursed lips, still blowing on the steaming liquid, to something safer, like the dark brew in his own cup. "He's got a good handle on the property. I was rather surprised by all the repairs he could do without calling in outside help."

  "Experience counts for a lot." She slurped a tiny sip.

  "More than a lot.” He forced himself to keep his gaze on his own mug. “There was a sewer line break. He determined it was halfway between the Gardenia building and the parking lot. Had the grounds crew digging up the lines."

  "Mmm. I noticed the activity."

  He chanced looking up and meeting her gaze. "Any other maintenance crew I've worked with would have had a plumbing company handle the whole thing. This extra effort probably saved the parent company quite a bit of money."

  "Yeah, well be thankful you weren't shadowing the ground crew today or you would have been shoveling back there with them."

  The sweetness of her smile gave him an unexpected jolt. It took him a few seconds for his thoughts and mouth to connect. "Keith explained that, until he gets notified otherwise, he's following the former owner's manager trainee program. Hands-on in every department before a full-time manager rotation." The best way to keep the conversation on business was to focus on his coffee and the day. The system for training in place fell in line with what Brad’s plans had been, but, after only a day working on broken thermostats, dead sockets, and stopped-up toilets, he was beginning to appreciate the old guard's methods of retaining loyal staff rather than bringing in the supposedly brightest and best.

  "You'll be assigned the night shift first." Tilting her chin up and swallowing the last drop, she exposed the silken smoothness of a long neck and Brad reminded himself to keep his eyes anywhere but on her.

  "That's fine. I tend to be a night owl." He also had to remind himself that he didn't plan on being here long enough to be worked into the schedule, and that he certainly did want to rethink his original plans for the Paradise Shores’ future. "Do you like your job?"

  "I do." She set down her cup and shifted, letting her feet fall to the floor.

  The gaze he’d managed to keep to the floor, caught sight of her bare feet and lingered upward on shapely calves. He’d have to have been a blind fool not to notice she had nice legs. Very nice legs.

  "I get to start at 8:30, which allows me time to drop Jason off at school and no need for early morning childcare, and we're done at the hotel by four o’clock at the latest on a normal day. Sometimes, during the slower season with a full crew, we're finished even sooner, and I get to pick up Jason earlier." She shifted again and leaned her head back against the cushion, her chin rising just enough to o
nce again expose her neck fully.

  Tired of fighting, his mind shot straight to how much he wanted just a small taste of her neck, then her chin, then… "It's late for you. I'd better get going." He couldn't stand up fast enough. If he stayed in her apartment any longer, he was going to forget most of this scenario was just pretend and make a move he knew wasn't smart. No matter how much he wanted it.

  "Oh." She popped to her feet. "Yeah. Mornings come around awfully early."

  Blast. Did his mind have to take off to what she would look like in the early morning, sleepy eyed and her hair all tousled? He seriously needed to get his butt out of her home. "Thanks for the coffee. I'll see you tomorrow."

  "Bright and early." She pulled open the door and stood at the edge, less than a foot away from him. Actually only inches.

  "Yes." He moved to cross the threshold when he realized he wasn't quite ready to let go. Stopping short, he spun around to ask her what time she wanted him to pick her up on Saturday. What he hadn't accounted for was her coming around behind him. Instead of finding her a foot or more away, she was right there against him. Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and his instincts kicked in.

  His fingers curled around the back of her neck, pulling her nearer. Leaning in, he closed the short distance between them. The zing of electricity that crackled through him the second their lips touched had his other hand pulling her hard against him. What should have been a sweet, easy kiss had turned into a full-blown tangle of lips and a desperate need for more.

  Every soft curve of her delicate frame pressed against him from head to toe. Her hands wove around his waist; a low-keyed moan escaped between them, and the fire burning in his blood escalated like a lit match on gasoline. He wanted this woman. Desperately. Mind, body and soul.

  "Mommy."

  The single word registered in Hope's mind way faster than his. He'd barely processed the loss of her warmth as she sprang away, and he realized Jason had come down the narrow hall, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

  "Baby, what are you doing out of bed?"

  "I have to go potty." The kid seemed more asleep than awake.

  "Okay, honey." She was already walking away from the door and up the hall when she turned to him. "This will only take a minute."

  Brad nodded but knew the best thing he could do was leave. Swallowing hard, he forced the words from his lips. "You take care of him. I'll let myself out."

  With her right hand on her son's shoulder, turning him toward the bathroom door, she bobbed her head. "Good night."

  "Don't forget to lock up after me." Watching her nod and disappear into the bathroom with her son, he closed the door behind him and stared at the walkway in front of him. One foot in front of the other would get him to his car and then back to his hotel. He'd be peacefully alone and could get some much neglected work done before resuming his pretence tomorrow.

  Except, what he really wanted to do right now was turn around and knock on the door. He wanted to help tuck Jason in, to read him a bedtime story, to share another cup of coffee with Hope. And that was only the beginning of what was becoming a very long of list of wants—all including Hope, Jason, and a house with a spacious back yard. And none of which included telling her who he really was and that his stupid acquisition plans would cost her and the other employees much-needed jobs. What kind of mess had he gotten himself into?

  Chapter Nine

  Holy hot lips. Hands actually shaking, Hope dumped the rest of the carafe of hot coffee down the sink and poured herself an ice-cold glass of water.

  Every nerve ending in her entire body still tingled. From a kiss. One single sensational kiss. Had it been so long that she had completely forgotten how fabulous a kiss could be? Or had no one ever kissed her like that? Downing the entire glass in one very long gulp, Hope poured herself another and took a seat on the sofa. Legs curled beneath her, she set the glass on the end table and reached for the remote. She had little doubt she would not be getting much sleep tonight.

  Surfing the channels, quickly bypassing anything rated R, she nearly groaned with frustration. What would have happened had Jason not woken up? How far would she have gone? How far would Brad have taken it? He seemed pretty eager to escape. Was he just being a gentleman? Or was the reminder she came with the baggage of a little boy a turnoff? Or had she been such a lousy kisser that he wasn't interested at all?

  No. That made no sense. She may not have been kissing a whole lot of guys for a whole lot of time, but this guy was most definitely as consumed by the connection as she’d been. And would, no doubt, be again if she got within five feet of Brad Kane. Oh, heavens, and she'd agreed to spend Saturday with him. Well, with him and Jason. In the daytime. Besides, Jason had already proved to be an excellent chaperone. The kid worked better than ice water.

  She stood and opened the sofabed. All she needed was to relax and not let her mind run away with all the what-ifs. After a good night's sleep and with her senses back under control, she'd revisit what happened and decide what to do next—or not to do.

  ***

  "What on earth are you doing on my doorstep at this hour?" John Maplewood swung open his front door, allowing his best friend inside.

  "I've been driving for hours and not getting anywhere."

  Ava Maplewood came down the stairs, securing the belt on her bathrobe. "Oh, dear, I’ll put on the coffee. This looks like a two-pot night."

  Before Brad could say yes or no, Ava had turned toward the kitchen, and John had steered him into living room.

  "So what's got you looking like your cat died?" John poured a scotch neat and handed it to Brad. "Drink this before she gets back with the coffee."

  Brad downed it in one fast gulp.

  John's brows shot up, and that annoying cocky grin slid across his face.

  "What?" Brad handed John the empty glass.

  "You're the one who texted me that you needed to talk. You tell me."

  Rubbing the heel of his palm against his forehead, Brad considered his words. For hours he'd driven up and down the Kona coastline, at first in the cheap rental he'd used with Hope and then in his BMW that he'd missed so much in just a few days. Neither had helped. "I don't know where to start."

  "Is this about the hotel? Did something go wrong?"

  "No and yes. Or maybe yes and yes. I don't know." Never in his entire life had he felt so confused. Torn.

  John didn't say a word. His long time friend simply sat in his favorite leather chair and waited.

  "EastCo has a policy that all management must have college degrees."

  John nodded.

  "It's been in place from day one. Standard for major corporations."

  "This is a problem?" John cocked his chin forward.

  "Yes. No. Maybe."

  "Decisive. Good." Leaning back, John stared stone-faced.

  Brad shot him a three fingered salute. “Read between the lines.”

  "Mature too.” John remained unfazed. “We're making progress."

  "It’s Hope."

  A curve at one side of his mouth, John continued to wait.

  "She's the head of housekeeping at the hotel."

  "And the one with the broken-down car."

  "Yes.” He waved awkwardly toward the bar and the scotch. “Got another one of those?"

  John shook his head. "One takes the edge off. Two won't solve anything. Keep going."

  Brad pushed to his feet and walked to the window. "She doesn't have a degree. But she does have an eight-year-old son. Jason. Cute kid."

  "The one who wants to play baseball?"

  Brad nodded. "Seems pretty smart for eight. At least I think so. She'd have to take a pay cut and go back to cleaning rooms full time when we implement EastCo's policies."

  "You are the boss."

  That much he knew. He'd already told himself all he had to do was say so, and she'd keep her job. Wouldn’t have to know she'd been an exception. And he wouldn't have to dwell over how many other people lost their jobs because of his st
andard policies. "I gave the hotel employees a thousand-dollar bonus so he could play ball."

  "Run that by me again?" John leaned forward again, his eyes wide with surprise.

  Brad spun around to face him. "After talking to Ava, I realized she was right. The problem with Hope letting Jason play ball was most likely the money, and Hope does seem to have a hard time accepting help so giving her the money outright probably wouldn't have gone very far. Instead I gave every employee of the hotel a one-thousand-dollar gift. Called it a bonus for staying with us during the transition."

  "Did it work?"

  "Yeah." He dipped his chin. "We're buying him new gear on Saturday."

  "We?" That eyebrow shot up high on his forehead again.

  Brad nodded.

  John leaned back again. "It's not her job security that has you tied up in knots."

  "She doesn't know anything about sports." It was a stupid thing to say, but he didn't want to give voice to what had been spinning around in his head for hours.

  "And you don't know anything about eight-year-olds."

  Ava came into the room carrying a tray with cups. She looked to her husband. "He's got it?"

  "Bad," John deadpanned.

  Wincing, she set the tray on the coffee table, then handed Brad a mug of black coffee. "You'd better tell her the truth about who you are sooner than later. And be warned, she'll be pissed." She gave a coffee mug to her husband, then holding her own cup turned back to Brad. "If you need a woman's point of view, let me know."

  Both men watched her exit, but John continued to follow her with his eyes long after Brad had turned away.

  Ava and John had to be wrong. "It can't be."

  John simply stared at him. That all-knowing, all-seeing look that almost always got John his way.

  Brad slid into the nearest seat. How could they be right? "I've known the woman all of two days."

  A raucous laugh came from John. "I felt like I'd been hit by a sledge hammer the second I saw Ava standing by her brother’s car. I was a little slow on the uptake to accept what was happening. Men like us often are. Cynics at heart I guess, but the feeling still hasn't gone away. Call it hokey, call it sappy, call it malarkey, whatever you like. For some people, when it's the one, it just is."