"Maybe it's just lust."
"Uh-huh." John took a sip of the steaming coffee.
"I mean, it has been a little while."
John balanced his mug on his knee. "In these hours you've been driving around before coming here, did you stop at a night spot? Sleazy or otherwise? Hook up?"
"No." The thought hadn't even occurred to him. He didn't want to pick up any woman. He wanted Hope.
John shook his head and raised his mug stopping short at his lips. "Any more questions?"
Sitting on the edge of his seat, his forearms resting on his thighs, Brad looked up at his most trusted friend. "Yeah. What do I do now?"
Chapter Ten
For two days Hope had been on pins and needles. She'd seen Brad in passing. A wave or a nod. Never close enough to talk and she had no reason to search him out. She often went days without seeing senior management. Heck, the only reason she saw as much of Keith as she did was because he'd always found reasons to come to her.
Now she was wondering if Brad might be dodging her altogether. Another reason why she'd avoided getting involved with a man all these years. For the same two days she'd been reliving that world-altering kiss, Jason had been talking about nothing else but going shopping with Brad tomorrow. She couldn't even fathom how she would deal with her son's disappointment if Brad backed out.
"How's it going?" Keith appeared in her doorway.
"It's going." She tried to plaster on a cheery smile until she took a longer look into Keith's eyes. "What's wrong?"
Easing his way into the tiny office, he moved a stack of paper off the only other chair available, dropped it on the floor, and scooted the seat closer to the desk before sitting.
Her stomach felt as though a swarm of angry bees had made themselves at home. Whatever the heck was wrong, was very wrong.
"I got the paperwork on the two maids EastCo is transferring to us from the other side of the island."
"And?"
"They seem fine. Nothing unusual. They're actually experienced maids. Were with the Royal Palms even before EastCo bought them out."
She really wished he would get to the part that had him pulling up a chair to talk to her.
"Attached to the employee files were EastCo's HR descriptions of their jobs. You know, experience required and all the other crap which comes with the hiring process."
Crap? Now she knew she wasn't going to like what he had to say.
"There was also the description and qualifications for your job."
Okay, that did it. Her stomach was now officially under attack. The score, Hope zero, bees two.
Keith leaned forward. "Hope, I don’t know how to tell you this other than to just spit it out. At EastCo, all managerial positions require a degree. A college degree."
"And I don't have one." No need to read between the lines. The writing on the wall was in large bold print. As soon as this transition to EastCo was complete, she would be screwed out of her job.
***
Today was Brad's turn on the grounds crew. On a scale of one to ten, it was somewhere above facilities, otherwise known as janitorial, and under reservations. He wouldn't have minded slapping a guest or two upside the head. The patience his people had to show while talking to disrespectful adults—who wouldn't be happy until they got an oceanfront room for the price of a popsicle—was mind-boggling.
The only good thing about baking under the Hawaiian sun was he got to see a lot more of the comings and goings of the staff. Like why the heck was his hotel manager heading toward the same building that officed housekeeping? It had become pretty obvious to him by Keith’s oddly protective behavior that, rather than maintaining good order at the workplace, what Keith had was a thing for Hope.
Perched on the end of his rake, he came within seconds of checking out what was going on for himself. For two days he'd forced himself to stay away from Hope. Convinced that, if he could escape the physical connection, he'd get his head screwed on straight and be able to think more rationally. There was nothing rational about the way he felt at this moment. Territorial didn't even begin to cover it. Assault and battery came close. Murder was more in the ballpark. And then he saw Keith leaving. Not that much can happen in—he looked at his watch—a fifteen-minute visit. At least not if the guy knew what he was doing.
Moving the same small pile of leaves back and forth at his feet, he kept his eyes on Keith until the man was once again in the main hotel building. Shoving aside the pile with one angry broad stroke, Brad would have smacked himself if he could. Talk about overreacting. He had no claim on Hope and no reason to believe anything was going on between her and Keith. Even if there were, none of it was his business. But that was the kick of it. He wanted it to be his business. Very much.
John was right. It is what it is. Brad could hide from his growing feelings as long as he wanted, but that didn’t change the fact that Hope had made herself at home under his skin. He had no idea if it was her pretty smile, her sense of loyalty to the company, her concern for her coworkers, her love for her son, or the way she nibbled on her lower lip every time she worried about money. But, whatever the heck it was, he wanted more of it. "Henry."
"Yes, boss man?"
Brad almost laughed. Today he was just part of the crew, but the other guy assigned to the same detail still treated him like a hotel manager. If the guy knew who he really was, he'd have a cow. "I'm taking a break. Getting a drink. Want something?"
"No thanks." Henry pointed to the water bottle at his side. "I'm fine."
"Be right back." Brad wished he weren't so sweaty, but enough was enough. He needed to at least check in on Hope. If nothing else, he had the perfect excuse—confirming tomorrow's shopping date.
Stopping in the men's room just inside the doorway, he took a second to wash his hands and face and do a fast finger-comb of his hair. Looking in the mirror, he decided his appearance could be a lot worse. By later this afternoon he'd be stinking like a wet dog.
"You got a minute?" He rapped on the door frame and almost leapt into the room when she raised her head, and he found those beautiful green eyes were laced red from crying. He was definitely going to murder Keith, preferably slowly and painfully.
She bowed her head, returning to the paperwork in front of her. "Not now. I'm behind on the laundry report."
To hell with laundry. Ignoring her, he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. "What happened? Is it Jason?"
Her head shot up. "Oh, no." The back of her hand swiped at an escaped tear. "He's fine. I'm just not taking some difficult news well."
So it was Keith. What had the ass-hat done? "I've been told I'm a good listener."
She ran another hand under her other eye. Straightening in her seat, she sucked in a deep breath, put on a brave smile, and he knew as sure as his name was Bradford Peyton that he was, beyond any doubt, falling in love with the woman in front of him.
"Thanks, but I'll be fine," she answered. "What did you need?"
To know what that idiot said to you. "What time did you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" For a moment he thought he saw a tiny spark of pleasure peek out from behind those sad eyes. Or was it just wishful thinking on his part?
"It's up to you." She forced a feeble smile.
"Nine o'clock too early?"
This time her eyes definitely lit briefly with amusement. "I have an eight-year-old. What do you think?"
That he didn't have a clue was the first thing to come to mind and that he didn't care came second. "Nine o'clock it is. And… well, if you tell me what's bothering you, maybe I can help."
She shook her head and pressed her lips together as though that might still the tears once again pooling in her eyes. Taking a deep breath and blowing it out slowly, her shoulders seemed to deflate with the expelled breath. "I was lucky that the Paradise Shores' former owner believed there was no substitute for hard work and experience”
He nodded. The owner, Brad was learning, was much smarter than he’d
given the guy credit for.
Her eyes fell shut again. “Not even a college degree."
A nasty knot formed in the pit of his stomach.
Breathing in and out again, she leveled her gaze with his. "It appears EastCo doesn't follow the same philosophy."
"They didn't fire you, did they?" They couldn't have. He clearly told his assistant to hold back the transition phase of Paradise Shores.
"No." She snatched a pen from the desk and rolled it between her fingers. "But it won't be long."
"You're good at your job. You care. Don't hesitate to step in and do the work yourself if needed. That's a rare commodity in an employee."
"Tell that to EastCo."
That's exactly what he had in mind. "Listen, try not to worry. I have a lot of friends in the business. I'm sure something will work out."
She smiled up at him. "You're a very sweet man, Brad. A bit of an optimist but sweet." Scooting closer to her desk, she waved him away. "You'd better get back to work before we both wind up getting the ax."
Right about now, the need to assure her all would be well almost had him telling her the truth about himself, to hell with the stupid two-week challenge. But an even stronger gut instinct told him, if he shared his secret now, he wouldn't stand an ice cube's chance in the sun of getting the girl. "You're right, but I'll check in on you later."
Still smiling, she nodded at him.
Outside the building he glanced around and walked toward the empty beach. Cell phone in hand he hit speed dial to his office. "Carol."
"How's today going?"
"To hell in a handbasket."
"What do I need to do?" This was why Carol was worth her weight to him in gold. No hurt feelings, just ready to man the battle stations.
"Listen very carefully. I want the following change written into policies for every last damn department in every damn division of EastCo. From now on, all internal applicants for executive and managerial positions can substitute on-the-job and life experience to fulfill degree requirements. Then get legal to give you the right mumbo jumbo to grandfather-in all positions from acquired companies, regardless of qualifications criteria, without us getting stuck with the crackpots. Got it?"
"Do you want me to tell legal exactly that?"
"Tell them anything you want, including, if I don't have this back and enforceable by end of business tomorrow, they can all find new jobs."
"Yes, sir. Got it." If anyone could prod legal into actually pulling this together in twenty four hours, it was Carol.
Shoving his phone into his pocket, Brad stomped back to his job for the day. Ava had been right. Being the one to buy the new toy was one thing, but having to polish it first yourself made one helluva difference. EastCo was in for some major changes when he got back to his office. And John was right too about Hope. She was it for Brad, but how to get her to fall for Bradford Peyton was something he had no clue how to do. Or did he?
Chapter Eleven
Tears welled in Hope's eyes. It was silly. Mothers weren't supposed to cry watching their sons play catch. Though she knew darn well it wasn't Jason throwing the ball that had her all misty, but the man squatting in front of him showing him how to catch with a mitt.
As she'd expected, there was nothing special or complicated about sports shopping for a little boy. They'd bought socks and shorts and left the jersey so the store could imprint his team name and number. Brad had insisted on buying the mitt as a gift, and, though Hope had almost stopped breathing at the price tag on the glove he'd chosen, Brad had instantly put her at ease.
"I'm single, well-employed, and have nothing else to spend my money on. Let me get him a good glove."
And she had. She'd also let him buy a batting practice set so he could help Jason with his swing before the official practices started. From where she sat on the park bleachers, Brad was going to have a lot of instruction time ahead of him.
"Hi there." Kara Harper climbed onto the bleacher beside her. "I thought it was you up here."
Hope didn't see anyone else. "Are you alone?"
"No. Nick and Bradley are getting the gear from the car. Catherine is with her grandmother. Well, sort of her grandmother." Kara chuckled to herself. “Long story for another day.”
Something Kara’s easy manner made Hope want to hear the long story. Maybe some day. She had never really had time to make friends with parents or have play dates like so many families with two parents. She looked to the field where Nick and Bradley and another man were sauntering up to where Jason and Brad were. "I'm sure we won't stay much longer."
"Nonsense. Baseball is a team sport. It'll be good for everyone to get some practice in. The men love this sort of thing. That fella there, that’s Doug. He’s married to a friend of mine. They haven’t any children.” Kara turned to her and smiled. “Yet—but he volunteers to coach and loves it. He’s coming off basketball with some special needs kids and promised Nick he’d help with Bradley’s team."
“Oh,” Hope looked down at the massive amount of bags and equipment Nick and the others had unloaded. “I didn’t realize Nick was the coach.”
“Yep,” Kara laughed. “I’m lucky that the price of this boy’s toys doesn’t get any higher than a few bats, and gloves, and shoes, and,” she laughed some more. “you see where I’m going with this.”
After shopping with Brad and his penchant for the pricier toys, she easily laughed with her new friend. She really did get it. For the next while they chatted about anything from how fast kids grow to the price of gasoline to how to get paint off the kids’ clothes. By the time she got the full story on her husband Nick’s best friend’s mother stepping in as a grandmother figure, Hope was laughing so hard at the stories, she ached for a big happy family to fuss with.
“I think those guys are having too much fun.” Kara pointed to the field.
The men were laughing, switching places between batting and base coaches as each of the boys took turns and ran around the diamond. Plenty of high fives were shared, but more amongst the adults than the kids. Hope had to agree, the guys seemed to be bonding as much as she and Kara were. Which was really nice. She felt as though she'd made a new friend. Even though Kara was a part time attorney, and Hope was a glorified maid, she felt like she and Jason fit right in with the Harpers. And she liked it.
"Looks like the boys are packing up." Kara pointed to her husband, collecting balls into a bag.
"Yeah, it's time for lunch. They're probably starved."
Jason came running up and onto the bleachers, his friend on his heels. "Mommy, Mommy." At the top he practically crashed into her. "Can I go play at Bradley's house?"
Bradley sidled up by his mom. "Dad said it was okay."
"I don't know," Hope supplied. She wouldn't have wanted something like that sprung on her.
"Please. Please," the two boys echoed.
"We could bring him home later if you'd like?" Kara offered. "It's no problem. The more the merrier. It will be nice for Bradley and Jason to hang out."
And to play in a backyard, Hope thought. Until now she'd not let Jason accept any invitations to play at the homes of the other kids, afraid of what he'd feel about not having what they had. Now she realized how unfair she'd been to him. "Sure. Just call me when I need to come pick him up."
"Yay!" The boys ran off, shouting to the men waiting below.
Hope pulled out her phone. "What's your number?" Their telephone numbers exchanged, Hope climbed down to meet up with Brad. "I guess I've lost my son for the rest of the day."
"How about an early lunch? I know a great little place to eat by the shore—"
"Oh, you don't have to …" A huge smile pulled at her cheeks. "Sounds delicious."
They'd barely made it out of the parking lot when her cell phone sounded. "Hello?"
"Sorry to bother you—" Nina was on the other end “—but Teresa called in sick, and Sofia just sliced her hand open and is on her way to the ER, and we're way behind."
"And you
called everyone else?"
"Yeah, sorry."
"All right. I'll pick up my car and be right over."
"A couple of hours and we should be caught up. I won't need you to stay till we're all done."
"No problem. See you soon." Normally when she had to fill in for a few hours on a busy weekend, she'd just bring Jason with her and make the best of it. There was no making the best of losing out on a seaside lunch with Brad.
"They're calling you in on your day off?" Brad kept his eyes on the road.
"It happens. If you'll just drop me off at home, I'll pick up my car."
Instead of turning right at the corner toward her house, Brad turned left. "I'll take you. Four hands will be better than two."
"This time I have to say it. You don't have to do that."
He cracked a cocky smile. "Yeah, I do. I'm higher up on the food chain than you are. If it's your responsibility to run and help, it's even more so mine."
"Maybe, but still …"
"Besides, together we'll knock out the work faster, and then we can have a late lunch."
Her cheeks tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I like the sound of that."
"A late lunch?"
She nodded, but what really made her toes tingle and her face want to burst into a happy grin was the word together. Having someone to count on, no matter what, was looking way better than nice. So far, Brad had proved her wrong. He had plenty of substance.
***
Who would have thought coaching a handful of elementary school kids could be fun? When Jason finally swung and hit the ball, Brad was almost more excited than Jason. Brad actually found himself thinking ahead to spending more time with the boy—and his mother. Without trying, Brad could see them in a house with a big yard and a younger brother or sister in a family-size SUV. And wasn't that tidbit of information going to make his mother a happy woman?
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