The midweek miniconferences held in spacious ballrooms were big moneymakers for the hotel. The rooms were rented out for lectures and workshops. The hotel made money on guest charges, rental space and meals served. Hundreds of paid guests spent their money in the gift shops, bars and poolside as well.
Vanessa made the last and final phone call to secure all was right on track and sat back at her desk with smug satisfaction.
“A.R.M. meets Lily’s Designs,” she whispered with a smile. “It’s better than Frankenstein meets the Wolfman.”
“Talking to yourself again, Vanessa?” Brock stood at the threshold of her office.
“Uh, a bad habit of mine,” she said. Then gulped. She hadn’t seen Brock in the office, or anywhere for that matter, for three days.
He’d called her house and left a sweet message every day apologizing for his busy schedule. She’d been home, listening, screening the calls and staring at the phone, debating whether to pick it up. What would she say to him? How would she react? The coward in her won out and she’d let her answering machine accept all of her calls, avoiding him. Which was ridiculous since she knew they’d have to come face-to-face eventually.
“Did you get the flowers I sent?”
Vanessa rose from her desk and straightened out her black-and-white-print dress. Mustering bravado, she smiled. “Yes, they were lovely. Thank you.”
Brock walked into her office and closed the door behind him.
Vanessa worried her lip, sucking in oxygen.
Brock looked good. He wore white trousers and a russet shirt that set off his tanned skin. Her heart dipped a little. But she picked it right back up, determined to stay the course. The gleam she witnessed in his eyes told her he had other plans.
“I’ve missed you,” he said, coming to stand before her.
She blinked. “You missed me?”
“In my bed, Vanessa. You do remember how it was between us,” he rasped in a low voice, his gaze leveled on hers.
Staggered by his bluntness, she fumbled for the right words. “Oh…yes,” she said breathlessly, not at all how she’d intended to respond.
Brock grinned, his eyes darkened with intensity. “I don’t think I’ve had a better night in my life.” He moved closer. “How about you?”
She backed up. “Me?”
He came forward and lifted a strand of her hair, studying it. “I think I counted four orgasms, Vanessa.” His gaze found hers again. Rapid heat sizzled between them. “Does that qualify for a great night with you?”
Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut momentarily, reminded of her wanton behavior and her intense physical enjoyment that night. “It was wonderful.” She couldn’t lie about that. She wasn’t that much of a fraud.
“Good, I hope you aren’t the kind of woman who’d say it was a mistake. That nonsense doesn’t fly after spending the entire night naked together, doing the things we did to each other.”
“Oh, um.” What did he expect her to say to that?
It had been a mistake. A big mistake. And more importantly, there would be no repeat performances. But a tiny part of her wondered what Brock would do for an encore if they were to get together again.
Brock leaned in. Vanessa backed up again. This time the back of her legs hit the edge of her desk. She was as far as she could go, in many ways.
Brock closed the gap between them. His stance spread wide, encasing her body. He took hold of her waist and tugged her to him, splaying his hands on her backside. The second he touched her, sensations swept through her with shocking force. Her body reacted. She hated that it did. She stared at his shirt, opened at the throat and remembered gliding her tongue over that very spot.
“What’s the matter, Vanessa?” he asked.
“I’m swamped. Feeling distracted at the moment,” she said. “You caught me by surprise.”
“I caught you talking to yourself. You didn’t look busy.”
“Trust me. I’m busy.”
Brock hesitated a moment, then released her. He glanced at the papers on her desk. Walking around the desk, he picked up a manila folder and studied the cover. “Working on the A.R.M. account?”
Vanessa reached for the file and tugged it out of his hand. “Yes. It’s coming up in less than a week.” Without looking at the folder, she tucked it away quickly in her drawer, her heart hammering, worried she might have made some notes that were for her eyes only.
Brock walked over to the window in her office and looked out. “I’m fond of animals myself. What about you?”
She nodded. “Love them.”
He turned. “So, you’re an advocate for the Animal Rights March?”
She tilted her head and became thoughtful. “They can be a little extreme at times. But I’m all for kindness to animals.”
“You should see my brother Trent’s place in Crimson Canyon. He’s got a herd of wild horses on his property. It’s a sight to behold.”
Vanessa remained silent. Brock seemed reflective at the moment and she was grateful he’d focused his attention on something other than her.
“That’s why I’m here, Vanessa. To talk about Trent’s wedding. And my mother’s. We need to find a date that’s doable for everyone.”
“Oh, I’ll be happy to do that.”
Brock nodded and studied her a moment. “The luau went smoothly on Sunday. I’m pleased with the results. I think we may have ironed out all of our problems.”
The luau went well only because she’d been in bed with him when she should have been plotting another minicatastrophe. She returned the nod. “Me, too.”
Brock walked over to her and cupped her face in his hands. Before she could react, he brushed his lips over hers gently, kissing her with tenderness. “Check your calendar and get back to me with those dates.”
He left her, staggered by the impact of that kiss.
And wishing he was anyone but Brock Elliot Tyler, her sworn enemy.
Eight
T he next day, Akamu walked into Brock’s office, a file folder tucked under his right arm. Brock gestured for the hotel manager to sit down across from him. “I take it you have some information for me?”
“Boy, do I. Starting Monday we have five scheduled conferences booked for the week. One that’s an all-day event, three that are two-day events and,” he said, opening his file and checking, “one that goes for three full days.”
“Should bring the hotel revenue up. Can we accommodate that many?”
“It’ll be tight, boss. We’ve never had so many booked in one week before. All the meeting rooms will be holding events.”
Brock contemplated. “Any other news?”
Akamu grinned, then caught himself and soured his expression. “If you’re asking about Vanessa, yes. I have news. I know what she’s up to.”
Brock took a deep breath. A small part of him held some hope that he’d been wrong about the blond bombshell with brains. Akamu’s admission now slashed that hope. “What news?”
Again, Akamu’s mouth quirked up before he spoke and his expression took on a look of respect. “She planned the Long A.R.M. for Justice meeting in the Melia Room. And Lily’s Designs sales meeting in the Loke Lau Room.”
“Those rooms face each other. Now explain.” Brock leaned against the back of his chair and steepled his fingers, waiting.
Akamu didn’t attempt to hide his admiration. “You know what A.R.M. stands for, right?”
“Only a hermit living in the Sahara Desert wouldn’t know A.R.M. They’re a very vocal group.”
“Animal activists,” Akamu said.
“Go on.”
“Lily’s Designs specializes in selling designer handbags and accessories made exclusively with fur and leather. Seems our event planner has made a deal with Lily herself to showcase some of her top-selling designs in glass cases just outside the ballroom where her sales meeting takes place.”
“Hell! Vanessa will rub A.R.M.’s nose in it.”
Akamu bobbed his head in acknowled
gment. “It’s brilliant.”
Brock glared at him, frowning at Vanessa’s deceit and Akamu immediately cleared his throat and shifted in his seat nervously.
“Brilliant,” Brock droned between tight lips. “They’ll have a volcanic shouting match at best.”
“Or, they might come to blows. I’ve seen it a few times on late-night news. One of these activists sees a fur coat and they go pupule.” He circled his index finger around his temple a few times.
Brock rubbed his forehead. He’d seen the craziness, too. Red wine splashed across a fur coat. Riots in the streets. Celebrities rising up to the A.R.M. cause. “Is she planning anything else?”
Akamu shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve been over everything a dozen times.”
“No, she probably thought this would be enough. There’s no need for icing on the cake. She’s probably thinking this was a sweet enough deal.”
Akamu remained silent.
Brock thought on this awhile and then leaned in, lowering his voice. “Okay, I have a plan. Here’s what will happen next.”
Twenty minutes later, satisfied that his plan would work and his reputation would be salvaged, at least this week, Brock walked the distance to Vanessa’s office.
“Darn it, Melody. Why don’t you answer your phone?” She stared at the screen for a second, wondering why her sister was so hard to contact. She’d been checking in with her every other day leaving voice mail messages. Most of the time Vanessa only got brief text messages back from her.
Vanessa slipped her cell phone back into her little pink leather purse she’d bought at a discount, a knockoff of one of Lily’s classic designs. She couldn’t afford the real thing. Those designer handbags went for a small fortune. Her mind clicked forward to the little fiasco waiting to happen on Monday. What a way to kick off the week.
“I need a word with you.” Brock Tyler appeared at her door. His eyes, deep, dark and deliciously brown, honed in on her.
She gasped. She had to be more careful. Brock was one to simply show up unannounced. Not that he hadn’t a perfect right—he was the owner of the hotel and her employer. She did answer to him, on one level.
“Hi!” She sounded a little too glad to see him. Over-compensating had always been a flaw of hers.
She must have given him the wrong impression because he closed the door behind him and strode over to her desk. She kept her eyes on him as he bent down and kissed her soundly on the lips until her nipples puckered under her blouse. He nuzzled her neck a second and she drank in his familiar scent. “Hi, back at you, baby.”
Vanessa chewed on her lip. “You wanted to see me?”
Brock’s grin was pure sin. “Always.”
Heat crawled up her throat. With just a look he could make her squirm. She hated that about him. He was like a force of nature, a windstorm that pulled you in the wrong direction.
Lucy opened the door and popped her head in. “Hey, how about lunch today,” she blurted before realizing Vanessa had company. “Oops! Sorry, Mr. Tyler.”
Brock backed away from Vanessa and smiled at Lucy. “Not a problem.”
“I’ll come back later.”
Thank God for Lucy. She had good timing, Vanessa thought. “Lunch sounds good, Lucy,” she managed to call out before Lucy shut the door, her footsteps fading down the hallway.
Vanessa gathered up files on her desk and set them in neat little piles. She inhaled, aware of Brock’s eyes on her.
“I won’t keep you from lunch,” he said. “Just wanted to get back to you about the date.”
“The date?” Vanessa’s mind raced. Had she made a date with him?
“For the double wedding.”
“Oh.” Was that disappointment she felt? She’d spent one erotic night with Brock and he’d only made halfhearted attempts to see her again. Her ego was bruised in one respect but in another she was grateful that she didn’t have to come up with excuses to refuse him.
He pointed to the calendar on her desk. “This day works good for everyone.”
Vanessa glanced down at the calendar to where his finger had landed. “That’s less than three weeks away!”
“Are you saying it’s not doable?” He pinned her down with a curious look.
“Well, um.” She’d given him dates that were available last night, but she’d never dreamed that they’d take the earliest possible one. Vanessa didn’t want to be working at Tempest when his family arrived. She didn’t want any part of their wedding. “It’s gonna be a push to get everything perfect.”
“I have faith in you. You’re more than capable of pulling this off.”
Vanessa looked away momentarily, chewing a little harder on her lip. He trusted her to make his mother’s and brother’s joint wedding perfect. Vanessa’s resolve dipped to a new low. Ruining his family’s wedding would put her in a reptilian class of creatures. “Sure, I can pull it off. But maybe they need a little more time.”
“Mom’s been alone most of her life. She and Matthew don’t want to wait any longer. And Trent doesn’t have a patient bone in his body.”
“Well, okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
She caught Brock’s quick frown before he nodded. “Consider it a personal favor to me.”
Vanessa didn’t want to do Brock any favors.
“Lucy will help you with anything you need.”
Oh, great. Now Lucy was involved. “Wonderful.”
“Thank you.” Brock braced his hands on her desk and leaned in. He smiled and touched a finger to her cheek, the soft caress gliding down to her mouth. He traced her lips tenderly and she caught the potent yet subtle hint of his sandalwood scent. He brought his mouth down gently. The sweetness of his slow kiss rippled through her heart.
“Have a nice lunch, Vanessa.”
She snapped her eyes open and found him staring at her with an odd expression. Just a glimpse, a second in time, she noticed vulnerability on Brock’s face before he turned and walked out of her office.
He left her shattered and confused. Vanessa crossed her hands over her chest and slumped in her seat fighting the question that had begun to plague her constantly. Was it possible to hate someone and love them at the same time?
She feared she knew the answer, because a heart didn’t lie.
It was worth the cost of Tempest Maui itself, to see the bewildered look on Vanessa’s face Monday morning when she walked down the hallway to the bank of meeting rooms that in no way resembled the chaos she’d originally planned. Her gaze darted from one meeting room to the other and finally settled on the construction blockades in front of the Melia Room.
“What happened to the Animal Rights March group?” she probed Akamu.
Brock stood in an alcove, out of sight, listening and sneaking a peek at her discourse with his hotel manager.
“I had them scheduled in the Melia Room. The room should’ve been set up by now.”
Akamu replied, “A pipe burst in that room last night. Water soaked the carpets. The whole place reeks. Mold. Yuck.” Akamu pinched his nose. “You wouldn’t want to go in there.”
“Why wasn’t I notified?” Vanessa asked. Brock smiled hearing her ire rise.
“Oh, no need to wake you up. It happened very very late last night.”
Vanessa paced and narrowed her eyes as a crew set up the Loke Lau Room for Lily’s Designs. Lily’s employees worked diligently, placing handbags and accessories on display tables, the smell of new leather strong.
“What on earth did you do with the animal group?”
“A brainstorm,” Akamu answered. “The Atrium Restaurant is available today on the top floor. It’s being set up as we speak and I’m sure the president of the group will be glad to hear they’ll have such a beautiful room for their conference.”
“They don’t know?”
“No, I thought you should call him. You’re good with smoothing things out. Here,” he said, punching in the number and handing her his cell phone. “Be sure to tell them we hav
e natural exhibits up there and a waterfall. They’ll have no complaints. The room is ready for them.”
Vanessa’s lips curved down as she took the phone from his hand. “Right. But you should have called me about this.”
Akamu shrugged, ignoring her irritation.
Brock waited until she finished her phone conversation to walk up to them, enjoying every second of Vanessa’s discomfort. He glanced around the bank of meeting rooms, making a point to note the construction blockades. “Problems?” he asked.
Akamu launched into the story, finishing with, “And Vanessa just called the president of A.R.M. to tell them they’ll have their conference today in the Atrium Restaurant. She set it all up.”
“Is that true? They’re okay with it?”
Vanessa nodded. “Yes, they seemed pleased when I explained the amenities in the Atrium. They won’t have a moment of delay. Their conference will start as scheduled.”
“Good thinking, Vanessa,” Brock said. “You averted a disaster.”
“But it was Akamu’s idea,” she blurted.
Akamu nudged her. “Vanessa is too modest. She’s the charmer. She could sell sand to a beach bum.”
“Good job.” Brock glanced at Vanessa, whose smile was reluctant at best. “Both of you.”
Akamu looked at his watch, then excused himself. Vanessa started to retreat as well. “I’d better get back to—”
“Just a minute, Vanessa,” he said, reaching for her arm. He slipped his hand down to her slight wrist then took her hand. “I want to talk to you.”
The beautiful deceiver stiffened and fear entered her eyes. Brock enjoyed her moment of guilt. He led her to the alcove he’d ducked into minutes ago. With her back to the wall, she blinked and refused to look him in the eyes. “What?”
He tipped her chin up and forced her to meet his gaze. “This.”
He met with the softness of her mouth and kissed her until her tension faded. He wanted her still, even though he knew she was out to destroy him. Even through all the deceit. Brock wasn’t going to forgive her. He wouldn’t let her off the hook. But he wasn’t immune to her charms.
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