by Heidi Betts
As excited as she was about the runway show itself, she wondered if there would be time to slip away for a massage and spa treatment. Lord knew the amenities at the Royal Crown had to be amazing.
Like any good PA, she needed to start making a list. Of everything she would need to pack for herself, but also whatever business-related items she—or more specifically, Nigel—might need.
Clothing-wise, she knew she should continue wearing garments exclusively from the Ashdown Abbey lines. But even though they did some very nice summer and activewear pieces, nothing that she’d seen so far was as ideal for the sun and surf atmosphere of Miami as her own designs.
Her lightweight fabrics, bright colors and floral prints would be perfect, absolutely perfect for such a trip. And she had several just-perfect pieces with her in California.
The question was: Did she have the courage to take them along and wear them in front of Nigel? Would he notice they weren’t from the Ashdown Abbey collections and wonder about her sudden switch? Or would he write it off as simply a female thing, knowing that women tended to have overstuffed closets filled with every type of clothing for every type of occasion and very few were loyal to only one designer or label? If it looked good, fit well and—with luck—was on sale, a woman would buy it.
She sighed. It wasn’t easy pretending to be a serious, buttoned-down executive secretary when all she wanted to do was rush home, kick off her shoes and blazer, let down her hair and run around packing sundresses and sandals for Miami as though it was a beach vacation rather than a short but significant business excursion.
Seven
The flight from Los Angeles to Miami was as long as it had ever been, but it passed by so smoothly, Lily couldn’t have said whether it took three hours or thirty.
Nigel’s—or rather, Ashdown Abbey’s—corporate jet was incredible. She’d been on a Jet Stream before, but traveling with Nigel as his personal assistant was quite different from traveling with her parents and sisters for a business-slash-pleasure trip. Especially since that had been years ago, when she was much younger and harder to keep in her seat.
This time around, she was mature enough to appreciate the soft-as-butter leather seats, the interior that looked more like a House Beautiful living room than the inside of an airplane and the single flight attendant who appeared when she was needed, but was otherwise neither seen nor heard.
A car was waiting for them when they landed. The driver stood outside, ready to collect their bags and load them into the trunk after holding the rear door while they climbed inside the perfectly air-conditioned vehicle. Given Miami’s balmy heat, Lily was grateful for the convenience.
Despite her continued misgivings, she’d opted for many of her own clothes for this particular excursion. She’d packed a couple of dark, formfitting suits, just in case, but had filled her luggage mostly with her own summer-inspired creations. Sleeveless maxi dresses that were feminine but elegant enough for the occasion, and a couple of linen skirts with light, flowy tops.
So far, Nigel didn’t seem to mind her change of wardrobe, even though she’d been wearing a much darker, more subdued outfit the last time he’d seen her, and now she was sunflower bright in a short yellow dress and strappy cloth espadrilles.
The truth was, she felt much more like herself dressed this way. But since she needed to remember she wasn’t supposed to be herself around Nigel Statham, that doing so could very well pose a problem.
She would have to be careful of what she said and how she acted—around everyone, not just Nigel—no matter what she was wearing.
When they arrived at the hotel, the driver pulled to a stop beneath the portico, then hurried around to open Nigel’s door. Nigel stepped out and turned back to reach a hand in toward her.
Lily slid across the seat, putting her fingers in his as she climbed out, careful not to flash too much thigh as her dress rode up a few perilous inches.
The second they touched, a wave of heat washed over her, making the breath stutter in her chest just a bit. She tried to tell herself it was the heavy humidity hitting her as she stepped out of the air-conditioned interior of the car, but she didn’t think that was true.
She’d been struck by too many unexpected hot flashes or zaps of electricity in his presence to believe they were geographical or weather-related. After all, she’d first noticed her reactions to his proximity in his office, and there had certainly been no natural humidity or direct sunlight beaming down on her there.
Avoiding Nigel’s gaze in case he’d noticed the hitch in her breath, she moved away from the car while the driver and a bellman unloaded their luggage and stacked it on a waiting cart. When they finished, Nigel tipped the driver, then placed a hand at the small of her back as they followed the hotel employee inside.
Nigel had already given the bellman his name so that as they passed the registration desk, key cards were ready. All the bellman had to do was collect them, then lead the way directly to the bank of elevators that would take them to the presidential suites.
Before they’d left Los Angeles, Lily had told Nigel that just because he was staying in a luxury suite didn’t mean she needed to. She could just as easily stay in a regular room, or perhaps a lower-level suite, then meet up with him whenever necessary.
Nigel wouldn’t hear of it, however. He insisted that it would be more convenient to have her right next door. And besides, the reservations had already been made; no sense bothering with them now.
So even though she still thought it was an unnecessary expense, she was kind of looking forward to having an entire presidential suite to herself. It would be almost like having the entire loft back in New York to herself, which almost never happened.
The elevator carried them slowly upward, the doors opening with a quiet whoosh. The bellman stepped out with the rolling luggage cart and led them down the carpeted hallway.
At the end of it, he paused, slipped a key card into the coded lock, and let them into what was, indeed, a luxury suite.
The carpeting beneath their feet was thick and off-white, the furniture plush and chosen to match. French doors lined one entire length of the main room—facing the ocean, of course.
The view, even from across the room, was magnificent. Lily couldn’t wait to get to her own suite so she could walk out onto the balcony and enjoy the soft breeze and salty sea air.
Remaining near the open door, Lily watched the bellman pull bags from the cart. When he reached for hers, though, she stepped forward and stopped him.
“Oh, no,” she told him. “Those are mine. They go in my room.”
The young man paused, hand still on the handle of her overnight bag. “Would you like me to carry them into the bedroom for you?” he asked, sounding slightly confused.
“No,” she tried to clarify. “I’m staying in another suite. Next door, I believe.”
Letting go of the bag, he checked the small paper envelope in his hand that had held the key card. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but I was only given the key to one room. Could your room be under another name?”
That drew her up short. Turning to Nigel, she cast him a questioning glance. His face was as blank as a sheet of paper.
Sensing the confusion in the room, the young man cleared his throat. “Let me call down to the front desk. I’m sure there was simply an oversight. We’ll get it straightened out right away.”
Crossing the room, he picked up the phone resting on the credenza beside a huge vase of freshly cut flowers. He spoke in low tones to whoever picked up on the other end.
A moment later, he hung up and turned back to them, his expression saying clearly that they weren’t going to like whatever it was he had to say.
Lily’s stomach tightened as she waited.
“I’m sorry, but the front desk only has one reservation under Mr. Statham’s name, and none for you.”
Lily exchanged another confused glance with Nigel. He shrugged a shoulder beneath the tailored lines of his charcoal suit coat.
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“So we’ll get a second room now. It’s not a problem.”
The bellman winced, and Lily knew what was coming even before he took a fortifying breath to speak. The fact that he refused to look either of them in the eye was another clear sign of impending doom.
“Unfortunately, we’re fully booked. With the Fashion for a Cause event in town, just about all of the higher-end hotels are. I’m very sorry.”
For several beats, no one in the room said a word, or moved a muscle for that matter. The bellman looked nervous. Nigel looked undecided. And Lily was pretty sure she looked plain old put-out.
But whatever mistake or misunderstanding had taken place, it certainly wasn’t the poor hotel employee’s fault.
With a sigh, Lily said, “It’s all right. This suite is big enough for a family of twelve. I’m sure the two of us will be able to make do.” She ended with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
The bellman’s chest dropped as he blew out a breath of relief. He thanked her profusely and finished taking their luggage off the cart, which he then rolled to the door.
Nigel followed behind, handing him what she hoped was a generous tip—hazard pay, and for nearly being sent into a panic attack—before he disappeared into the hallway.
“I’m sorry,” Nigel said, strolling back to the center of the sitting area and stopping just a yard or so in front of her. “There must have been some sort of mix-up.”
“I’d say so.”
“My assistant normally makes these reservations for me.”
She lifted a brow, silently asking if he seriously intended to blame this situation on her.
He almost—almost—cracked a smile.
“I don’t usually invite my assistants to join me for these things, however, so when I asked you along, I apparently forgot to tell you we’d need to book a second room.”
“Apparently,” she replied drily.
Then, without another word, she turned and crossed to the large mahogany desk set against the far wall. Pulling open drawers, she found the phone book and started flipping through.
“What are you doing?” Nigel asked, moving a few feet closer.
“Looking for another hotel. A less ritzy one that might have a room available.”
Reaching the desk, he leaned back against the corner nearest where she was standing, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why?”
She shot him a castigating glance. “I’m going to need somewhere to sleep. And as we’ve established, you only reserved one room, and this hotel is full up.”
“I thought you said the suite was large enough for the both of us.”
Lily kept her attention glued to the phone book, pretending her stomach hadn’t just done a peculiar little somersault. In a low tone, she murmured, “I lied.”
“Don’t be silly,” he said after a moment of tense silence.
Though she kept her gaze strictly on the yellow pages of the directory, his long, masculine fingers suddenly came into view, grasping the book at its center and plucking it from her hold.
Setting it flat on the desk behind him, he remained where he was, one palm flat on the phone book to hold it in place and stop her from snatching it back.
“There’s no need for you to stay elsewhere when there’s plenty of room here. Besides, as I told you before, having you at another hotel, possibly all the way across town, won’t exactly be conducive to business. What if I need you for something?”
She narrowed her gaze, mimicking his earlier posture by folding her arms beneath her breasts and hitching back on one hip.
“You can call and I’ll come over. I’m sure that all of the hotels in this area have working phone lines and taxis that travel in between,” she told him flatly.
The specks of green in his hazel eyes flashed briefly, and Lily thought perhaps she’d gone too far. She was supposed to be his beck-and-call girl, after all, and should probably keep her sarcasm to a minimum.
“I’m afraid that’s simply unacceptable,” he told her, his already noticeable accent growing even thicker and more pronounced. “I don’t pay you to show up when you can, I pay you to be there when I need you.”
Score one for the prim-and-proper Brit, she thought.
Licking her lips, she said, “How much do you think you’ll need me?” No sarcasm this time, just a straight-out question. “I was under the impression this trip would be on the light side, as far as work was concerned.”
“Still,” he responded without really addressing her question, “it would be better for us to stay in close proximity, just in case. Having you one door over would have been fine, but no farther than that.”
Pushing away from the desk, he offered her an encouraging smile. “Don’t worry, we’ll make it work.”
He returned to the pile of their combined luggage in the center of the room. Picking up his briefcase in one hand, laptop case in the other, he moved them to the coffee table in front of the sofa. It matched the eggshell hue of the carpet almost perfectly.
“I don’t suppose this presidential suite has two bedrooms,” she remarked, relaxing enough to take a few steps in his direction.
She kept her arms across her chest, though. Not tightly, but because she knew if she let her arms fall to her sides, she would only end up fidgeting.
Resigning herself to staying in the same suite as her boss was one thing. Staying in the same suite with this man, who just happened to be her temporary boss, but who also caused her mouth to go dry and other places to grow damp, was something else entirely. It made her nerves jump and dance beneath her skin.
“I don’t believe so, though you’re welcome to check.”
More because it gave her a chance to put a little space between Nigel and herself than because she thought there was an actual chance at success, she strolled away to explore the rest of the suite.
For the most part, it had everything: a rather large kitchenette; dining and sitting areas; an entertainment area complete with television, DVD player, stereo and even a Wii; an officelike work area; and a balcony. There was a small bathroom in the main portion of the suite, but she assumed the bedroom had one of its own, as well.
And then there was the bedroom itself. Unless it somehow broke off into two separate sleeping quarters past the single doorway, there was only one. One spacious, beautiful, far-too-intimate bedroom.
Stepping over the threshold, she took in the totality of the room in a single glance. The enormous bed—a queen size, at least, but she suspected king—with the woven bamboo headboard. A low, matching bureau with an oval, almost seashell-shaped mirror attached. The small table and chair over by the sliding glass door leading to the balcony. And the open doorway that led to the master bath.
She’d been right about that, too. Apparently sparing no expense, the hotel had put in marble flooring, marble vanity, marble shower enclosure and marble tub surround. The bathtub and shower were also separate—one sunken, with jets that made her want to strip and climb in for a long, hot soak that very minute; the other the size of a compact car with an etched-glass enclosure and half a dozen nozzles arranged on the other three sides to send water spraying in all the right places.
Without a doubt, Nigel would be paying thousands of dollars a night for so many of these amazing amenities. And Lily was beginning to think they might just be worth it.
But the question remained—where was she supposed to sleep?
* * *
Nigel watched Lillian as she prowled around the suite, investigating the layout. He was afraid she would be disappointed by what she found—namely a single bed in a single bedroom off the main sitting area.
She stood in the doorway, studying the room. He tried to decipher her thought process by her body language—the line of her spine, set of her shoulders, the movements of her hands and fingers dangling at her sides. Unfortunately, she was giving nothing away.
After several long minutes, she turned back around. For a second, she stared at him, looking none too plea
sed. But then her gaze floated past him and her chest fell as she expelled a breath.
“I guess I can sleep on the sofa,” she said, giving him a wide berth as she walked past him. “With luck, maybe it pulls out.”
The sofa was long enough for a body to stretch out upon, but didn’t look comfortable enough that anyone would want to. Still, she started removing the cushions one by one, feeling around for a handle that would turn it into her bed for the night.
Nigel opened his mouth to stop her before the first cushion was even taken off, but found himself distracted by the sight of her shapely rear as she leaned over. He’d noticed her change in wardrobe this morning when he’d picked her up for their flight—from the dark, Ashdown Abbey business attire she’d been wearing around the office to a much lighter, brighter dress of unknown origins—but hadn’t truly appreciated her current clothing choice until just now.
When she didn’t find what she was looking for, she straightened with a huff, putting her hands on her hips. He could have gone on admiring the view all afternoon, but finally took pity on her.
“Nonsense,” he said, causing her to spin around, cushions still askew. “There’s no need for you to stay on the sofa.”
She quirked a brow. “Do you expect me to sleep on the floor, then?”
He gave a snort of laughter. “Certainly not.”
The quirked brow lowered as she narrowed both eyes, her mouth flattening into an angry slash. “If you say the bed is big enough for both of us,” she all but growled, “I will not be responsible for my actions.”
Her frown deepened when he chuckled at her obvious irritation.
“What kind of employer do you think I am?” he couldn’t help but tease.
She didn’t respond, simply waited, her expression still one of a woman who’d just unwittingly sucked on a lemon.