SEDUCTION AT THE STARGRASS

by Charlee James

  Then she cleared her throat and stepped back, squaring her shoulders. The blush on her cheeks was the only indication that she was just as impacted by him as he was by her.

  “Thank you for the towels,” she said in a low whisper.

  “My pleasure,” he croaked. His throat was dry, and his body hummed with desire. His phone buzzed again. The bus would arrive in less than five minutes. “I need to greet my daughter at the bus, but I wonder.” He took a step back and surveyed her. “If you’ve ever heard the saying get results or get out of the way.” Zale took three wide steps in the direction of the elevator.

  “I don’t need to hear it. I live it.”

  He turned to the sound of Gemma’s voice, where a smug smile rested on her lips. Magnificent. High, sculpted cheeks, a pert nose, and sparkling eyes were a devastating combination. One that made his heart knock swiftly against his ribcage. She was young, beautiful, and wealthy,- with the whole world at her fingertips. And yet she chose to take charge. To blaze her own trail. That self-assured smile of hers could start wars, bewitch kings, convince a man to sign away his hotels.

  “I can’t decide if you’re a breath of fresh air, or a swirling storm,” he muttered, eyes still locked on hers.

  She leaned a shapely hip against the frame of her door. “I don’t think there’s much question as to which I’d prefer.”

  He couldn’t hold back his laughter. “The storm.”

  She grinned, and something mischievous played across her face. They stood like that, for one heart beat then two, respect and something more expanding in the space between them.

  His alarm buzzed, and he glanced at his watch. “Speaking of storms, Mila will be a hurricane if I’m late to the bus.”

  “Thanks for these.” She lifted the towels, and disappeared through her door. She’d slip into steaming soaker tub, bare skin glowing. Would she keep her hair pinned up? Wisps of glossy strands falling down around her face? He cleared the image with a sharp shake of his head.

  With long strides, he closed the distance to the elevator, unable to wash the smile from his face on the way down to the lobby. He’d been attracted to Gemma since they met two days ago. She fascinated him. At one moment she was discussing business strategy, and the next she was putting him in his place. No one ever questioned his actions or made him take pause, but Gemma had no problem going head-to-head with him. It was…exhilarating. He paced through the lobby, greeting his team on the way to meet Mila, while trying to banish Gemma from his thoughts.

  He let out a sigh of relief when the bus rounded the corner just as the entry doors closed behind him. Someday the bus would inevitably beat him to the portico, but it wouldn’t be today. The bus slowed to a halt and the glossy white door embossed with the school’s logo opened and his daughter skipped down the steps. “Have a nice afternoon!” She waved enthusiastically at the driver before skipping over to hug him.

  His little Mila was full of spice and sass, but he couldn’t be prouder of the child she was. Of course, she was stubborn, and at times, downright obstinate, but she also had a bright mind and a kind heart. He’d been concerned that the lack of a mother’s love might negatively impact her, but between him and his mother, they made sure she always felt cared for and safe. The day would come when she asked where her mother was and why she left. He wasn’t sure anything would prepare him for it. How Margaret could’ve abandoned this sweet child, abandoned him, still didn’t make sense.

  His mind instantly wandered to Gemma, and how her face had softened when she mentioned his daughter. He couldn’t picture the heiress of a multi-billion-dollar corporation elbows deep in dirty diapers, but she seemed to like children. Not that it mattered to him. Relationships weren’t something that interested him at the moment. He wanted to be an affiliate of Dalton, retaining all control of his properties while reaping the benefits of the corporation. To do that, he needed to show Dalton what an incredible asset they could find in Carris Retreats. He’d do well to remind himself that Dalton was only looking for ways to further line their pockets. His hotels meant nothing to them if he didn’t effectively present them as a revenue generating goldmine.

  “So, tell me all about your day. Did Ally and Avery ask for me?” Mila looked up at him, blue eyes glinting with excitement.

  “They did and could hardly wait until you got out of school to play.”

  Mila squealed and twirled in a circle. “Can I see if they’re at the pool, please?”

  “How can I say no? Change out of your school clothes first, please.” Zale returned her smile even as a trickle of guilt besieged him. At times he was still furious with Margaret. The experience of having the woman he loved, the mother of his child, leave, had left him utterly distrustful of relationships. His father had also left his mother, just as Margaret had left Mila. He wouldn’t allow the cycle to continue by getting involved someone who would inevitably walk out of their lives.

  Chapter 5

  Gemma sampled the made-to-order omelet and savored the combination of spinach and feta cheese. It was a wonder she was awake at all after tossing and turning through the night. She couldn’t get her mind off Zale. The instant she’d mentioned taking a bath, all she could think of was slipping into the steamy water with him. There was no doubt that her cheeks had turned cherry red. How did any woman function within twenty feet of him, let alone when he was standing with plush towels and dried lavender just inches away from the threshold of her room? She wasn’t one to overly fantasize about men; she was simply too busy with her career.

  Emotions got in the way of goals, but that didn’t seem to matter with Zale. Her attraction to him was a problem, and the only way to resolve that was keeping her goals at the forefront. Gemma was here to do three things, and three things only: to buy Carris Retreats, claim the title she’d worked so hard for, and finally get some validation from her family. And yet, the way his hands caressed hers as they exchanged the towels left her breathless. If she were here on vacation, would she be a bit reckless and entertain the idea of a quick fling? It was so unlike her, but something about Zale spoke to her on a primal level.

  “How’s your breakfast, Ms. Dalton?” The deep voice, all male, shot prickles down her spine. She washed the bite down with a swig of coffee. She hated being caught off guard. A couple walked by, enthusiastically waved at Zale, and said a few words of praise for the elaborate buffet. She could feel warmth travel up to the tips of her ears. How on earth could she be professional after they’d been locked in a heated gaze that was more sensual than any sex she’d ever had? She’d wanted to kiss him, almost did, until she remembered the reason why she was here.

  “I’ve never had better, if I’m being quite honest.” She regained her composure and looked at him over the rim of her coffee mug.

  “Why do I sense there’s a ‘but’ coming behind that statement?” The warm smile he’d shared with his guests was gone, lips now pressed in a thin line.

  “You could take it to the next level,” she said casually, all while her heart galloped inside her rib cage. His brow twitched, but as expected, he schooled his features quickly and pulled out a chair.

  “How so? All our ingredients are of the highest quality, sourced from local farms whenever possible. Options for vegans, vegetarians, gluten-free, and made by the very best chefs.”

  She’d hit a nerve and would enjoy playing it out. “There’s no doubt it’s decadent, but you’re wasting capital. Scale it back on the weekdays. Keep the omelet station, perhaps two or three hot items, and a deluxe continental. Offer this setup at a premium—an exclusive Sunday Brunch served on the terrace.”

  “I disagree. My guests already pay a premium to stay at the resort, and it’s my job to ensure every dime of their hard-earned money is well spent. Besides, we already offer a Sunday Brunch on the Terrace, a chocolate bar on Tuesdays, and Wednesdays are clambakes on the lawn.” Zale’s eyes narrowed as he assessed her. “If I signed the resorts over to Dalton, the product quality would lapse in fav
or of a higher profit.”

  “No, not the quality. Scaling back would give you more opportunities to be in the black, to invest that profit back into the resort. Add the cottages, the grand ballroom for weddings.” Gemma picked up her fork. She wasn’t about to let her breakfast get cold due to a long-winded debate. “There are product control policies you could put in place this very moment.” She took another bite of her eggs, smaller than the mouthful she’d been trying to enjoy when Zale arrived at her table.

  “Police the buffet table and tell my guests they can only have one serving?” Zale leaned back and crossed his arms over his broad chest.

  “Look at my plate. I took twice the amount of fruit and potatoes that I normally would because the chafing dishes are filled to the brim. It’s psychological. If you tell your chefs to only fill the pans halfway, guests will take less to be polite to the people in line behind them. Less waste, a higher profit, win-win.” She leaned back, more at ease now that she was in control.

  Zale uncrossed his arms and mirrored her relaxed posture. Gemma studied his face, his body movements, and detected a layer of defense replaced by respect. She’d chip away at him slowly until he was convinced that she would do what was best for his hotels, and sign them over to Dalton without a qualm.

  “Waste is minimal, and our guests enjoy to the fullest. This is a place for them to splurge, forget their waistlines, fast-paced lives, and demanding careers.” He made a sweeping gesture with his right arm, and she looked around the dining room. Smiles lit every face, children laughed with parents, and not one person was glued to the screen of a cell phone—a miracle in itself.

  “What happens to the prepped leftovers that never make it to the buffet?” she asked and speared a chunk of ripe, golden pineapple. The juice was sweet and tasted of summertime.

  “The team enjoys half—we serve three meals a day and snacks in the employee lounge, and the rest is split into single serve to-go containers. The local senior center picks them up each day at ten o’clock and distributes them as part of their meals on wheels program. It’s nice to be in the black, but even nicer to take care of your neighbors.” Zale glanced away and offered a discreet thumbs-up to a server who stopped to pick a stray sugar packet off the floor.

  Now it was her turn to don a new layer of respect. Perhaps she and Zale were more alike than they imagined. She’d facilitated similar programs to connect soup kitchens with Dalton Hotels. They also donated soap, toilet paper, and linen to local shelters. Gemma enjoyed taking a break every couple of weeks to hand deliver supplies to the Safe Haven for Women and Children. It was nice to read to the kids and fulfilling to give the moms a much-needed break. Her objectives for Dalton aligned with Zale’s principles, as well.

  “I hope you enjoy the rest of your breakfast, Ms. Dalton. I have a few things to attend to this morning starting with a parent-teacher conference at Mila’s school, but I highly recommend today’s painting class at noon. Tomorrow, we offer a late afternoon yoga session before our clambake and beachside bonfire.” His gaze was so intense, it felt as if she was the only person in the room. For a moment she was lost in the depths of his eyes. Without looking away, he lifted her hand. His rough palm against hers sent a current of electricity straight to the soles of her feet. He bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to the top of her skin. “I hope you have a restful day,” The sensual grit in his voice had her pulse thrumming.

  How did he manage it all? She’d always accepted that her parents were busy with their business and couldn’t attend such things. The only way to gain their attention was through success, so she’d spent long hours on homework to get the best grades, vying for any scrap of praise. Gemma had never thought her family odd or cold, but watching Zale juggle the responsibilities to his resorts and raise a lovely child made her recognize the dysfunction in her own upbringing. How had it impacted her ability to form relationships? More like lack of. Her social life was a barren wasteland. Success first—everything else last.

  Her throat was suddenly tight. “Thank you, and please, call me Gemma,” she said, quickly soaking in a smile that made her pulse hammer.

  *

  Gemma took Zale’s recommendations and ended up creating a halfway decent painting of the harbor yesterday, which was currently positioned on her guestroom bureau. She moved across the room, lithe and springy from the yoga session. Now she was digging through her suitcase for clambake attire. She’d hung up her pressed suits and dresses, but this occasion seemed to call for something more relaxed.

  A chili-pepper-red swatch of jersey fabric peeked out from under a pair of jeans, and she slipped the soft material over her head. The dress pooled at her ankles and nipped in at the waist. She slid her bare feet into a pair of gold sandals that could easily be kicked off if she wanted her feet in the grass or sand. Flutters winged through her stomach and she touched her fingertips to her collarbone. If only Zale had told her if he’d be attending or not, she could calm the quick clip of her heart. Despite her extended stay, this was a business trip. But the prospect of seeing Zale gave her less than professional thoughts. Utterly indecent ones.

  She couldn’t recall the last time she’d been so riled up, and she couldn’t lose sight of all her hard work and aspirations because of a gorgeous man who she was starting to respect. The deal wouldn’t be one sided. Zale had so much to gain from the sale; she just had to help him see it. Incredible wealth, more leisure time to spend with Mila, all while still having a say in the hotels he worked so hard to build. If at any point she thought Zale would lose something big if he agreed to her terms, she’d tell him so—even if it cost her the COO position. She’d hate to see someone in the role who had no aspirations of altering the current business model, but she couldn’t live with herself if she deceived someone to get what she wanted.

  She checked her wristlet for her keycard, then breezed down to the main lobby and out onto the Great Lawn. The warmth caressed her skin, and sweet, smoky scents mingled with refreshing harbor air. A game of croquet was in progress to her left, horseshoe throws to her right, and a long, double-sided buffet was surrounded by round tables straight ahead. She loved the blue and white checkered picnic blankets positioned closer to the water, and the activities for all ages that gave the event a family cookout feel.

  “I hope you came hungry.” Zale’s unmistakable voice sounded behind her, and she suppressed a shiver. She turned and glanced up to meet his impossibly clear eyes. He inadvertently licked his bottom lip and warmth pooled from her shoulders to thighs. She shouldn’t be thinking of what that tongue would feel like licking a trail down her skin, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. He was too darn attractive, too alluring. Surely, he felt it too, this magnetic force field, casting an electric hum in the space between them. It was the first time they stood this close, and she filled her lungs with Zale’s scent: light bergamot, black currant, and sophistication. She was familiar with the Creed Aventus cologne, but on him, the fragrance was even more blissful. A sleep-with-your-T-shirt and wear-your-sweater type scent that drew her a step closer.

  “I am.” Her cheeks heated at the breathless note in her voice. What was happening to her? Gemma straightened her shoulders and lifted her chin in an effort to regain some of her dignity. Gemma Dalton did not swoon over men—okay, maybe she’d fantasized about Zale more than once since her arrival, not that she would ever act on it before she got a clear answer about his decision to sell—but now they were out in the open and her palms were sweating, her knees about to buckle. The thunder of feet made her turn just in time to see a trio of girls, led by Mila, chasing after a rogue kite with the Carris seal. Zale ran to the rescue, grabbed the kite’s tail, and returned it to his daughter with a kiss on the cheek.

  He made a small signal to the young houseman with shaggy blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. Within moments, the teenager was at his side with two more kites. Gemma recognized the twins Mila played with from the day of her arrival. Something warmed inside her when Mila smile
d up at her father and patted his cheek. He was her hero. It was simply beautiful. She cast her gaze out to the harbor, feeling like an imposter on a private moment. Her time here was a solemn reminder that she had little experience with a true family bond.

  Zale made a small sound in the back of his throat behind her, and she angled her body toward him. His collared button-down framed his well-built form, and he took on a casual refinement in tan chinos. Zale caught her lingering gaze, and he shot her a grin.

  Hopefully her foundation would conceal the blush creeping up her cheeks. So much for swooning. Now she’d been caught staring at the hard lines and planes of his body, too. Of imagining what he’d look like without those clothes on.

  “I reviewed your proposal,” he said, eyes focused on her, as if he could see all her most intimate thoughts. Before he could continue, Mila ran in their direction, her hair loose and wild, feet bare. The air was suddenly stripped from her lungs. This was Mila’s home, her playground, and Gemma was trying to take her legacy. Yes, it would give her more time with her father, millions in the bank, and a stable future, but how would it shape her life if the resorts no longer belonged to her family? She’d have to ensure they were able to keep their home here if Zale by some miracle decided to sell.