A Suite Geek (Suite Love Series Book 3)

by Sue Gibson

  He straightened, dropping his hands to his sides. “On my own, already? Hey, I’ve been Ted for less than twentyfour hours. Aren’t you expecting

  too much too soon?”

  In truth, he was right. Her plan stood virtually no chance of succeeding if she abandoned Edward now. But her reaction to his presence had unnerved her and she’d overreacted.

  “You’re right. It’s just that you’ve made such remarkable progress so quickly.” Praise the student and he will work harder still.

  Edward’s shoulders pushed back with her words and a smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Well, I tried.”

  Not only had he come to her Tai Chi class, but he’d left off his hideous black socks. Minus the socks and

  factoring in the recurring smile, he’d leaped from geek to almost, well…hot, in one short night. She dragged her gaze back up his body to his face.

  “Really, I think you’re nearly there.” “Well, if you think so ….”

  “Christy, I need you over here,” a female voice called from across the patio. “Are we supposed to hold a pose this long?” another voice questioned from somewhere beyond her peripheral vision.

  “No! Everyone relax and draw in deep breaths of this lovely scented air. Draw it right down your belly.” She stepped away from Edward and took her place on the center stone. Clapping her hands softly, she gathered the attention of the group. “Follow me everyone in the creation of the next pose.”

  Everyone shifted and laughed with their attempts. Comfortable again in her leadership role, she glanced at Edward. He’d easily managed the new posture and was offering help to the red-haired man next to him. At her smile, he flashed a thumbs-up.

  She’d expected more of struggle from Edward. Usually her people skills and intuition were bang on and she hated to admit she might have pigeonholed Edward a bit too quickly.

  Concentrating on overseeing the poses and the follow-through motions, while avoiding touching Edward again, consumed the remaining minutes of the class. Edward appeared oblivious to her, gamely assisting his struggling neighbors.

  With a will of their own, her eyes kept going back to him. Each time he noticed, Edward smiled and gave the thumbs-up again. Whether a suggestion in “Dating for Dummies” or something he’d come up with on his own, that needed to stop.

  But she happily returned his smile. You had to love

  his attitude this morning. Overall he was putting out a real effort to be a Ted.

  Clapping her hands again, she announced the end of the class. “If you’ve enjoyed the class, check out the hotel’s web page for links to Tai Chi classes near your home.”

  A flurry of effusive appreciation poured out. “Thanks so much, Christy,” the petite woman said, reaching to shake her hand. “I’ll definitely follow up with a Tai Chi class when we get back home. Him too!” she added with a saucy nod to her husband—the tall, thin be speckled one.

  An enthusiastic nodding of heads followed from the group, assuring her that the morning had been a success. Stooping to stuff her towel and clipboard into her tote, she peered up through her eyelashes. Edward was locked in conversation with his new buddy. His hands and arms articulating his words, Edward described something of apparent interest to both men.

  She was anxious that he not escape the patio without her having a chance to put in place the next phase of her plan—creating a profile of his perfect female companion. Dropping to one knee, she fiddled with a shoelace. Seconds later a pair of size eleven’s stopped inches short of her pale pink size six’s. Keeping her head down, she tugged on the already snug knot.

  “So did you wake up in time to watch the cow crossing?” He didn’t need to know that she already determined he’d done so.

  “I did. And thank you. It was er…interesting.” He leaned in. “And you were right about it being a local attraction. There had to be at least a dozen other hotel guests there.”

  Had his future wife been there too, perched

  prettily on the rail fence? Uneasiness stirred in her stomach. She shook her head, dismissing the foolish response to his progress. Nothing today was making any sense.

  She glanced away. “You’re welcome, I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”

  Now, to come up with something he could handle on his own was her next challenge, while ferreting out what it was he looked for in a woman.

  “See you later,” he called over his shoulder. “Stan and I,” he tipped his head toward the spot he’d just vacated, “plan to meet at the docks in ten minutes for some fishing. I’m heading down to reserve a boat and a guide. I hear they have only three fishing boats.”

  “Super!” Really? “And that’s true—only three boats,” she sang out as his big white sneakers squeaked across the patio. Her problem solved, she should’ve felt good, but instead she stuck her tongue out at his back.

  Slapping her hand over her mouth, she glanced around the grounds. The few stragglers appeared occupied, unaware of their Recreational Director’s hissy fit.

  Pulling in a breath, she sank to the warm patio stones. Things were great, really. Now she had the entire afternoon to screen the women at the spa properly. At this point she knew enough about Edward to recognize his Ms. Right. If she was a guest at the Nirvana, she’d facilitate a meeting. If not, then Edward would leave single, but better equipped to find her back on his own.

  With his easy compliance, her plan to socialize Edward had become more complicated, the rules of the game changing daily. Now more than ever, subtlety would be required. A nudge toward his

  potential partner was all that this Ted-like Edward needed. He practically sold himself.

  Closing the gate with a clang, she turned and trudged, head down, toward her office. Matchmaking wasn’t nearly as fun as it used to be.

  Chapter Ten

  “The local fishing guides swear that when the waves curl like that,” Jason pointed toward the lake, “the pickerel bite.”

  As they neared the dock the breeze swelled, the incoming waves lifting the tips of the small red and white fishing boats anchored in the bay.

  “Let’s hope a stiff wind from the west helps too,” Jason added with a laugh.

  Edward glanced down at his shorts. Normally he didn’t make impulsive decisions. But pants would be nice right now. And Stan Parker as his boat mate? What had he been thinking?

  But putting up with Stan and the unpredictable weather were worthy sacrifices if it would convince Christy that he was her kind of man, a Ted.

  So far, the plan appeared to be working. She’d smiled her approval at his friendly overtures toward Stan during the Tai Chi lesson. And when she learned that he was going fishing, she’d been almost speechless. Read the manual, eh.

  “Edward, old buddy, I made it! Got the whole afternoon free. The wife is at some outdoor spa or something , . ” Stan said, slapping him on the back. “I can’t wait to give the fishing a try. I hope you managed to reserve us a boat.”

  “Well, we definitely beat the crowd,” Edward said, his humor lost on Stan. “And call me Ted.”

  Still red-faced from the exertion, Stan’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the lake. “Sure, Ted, if that’s what your friends call you. Looks like we’re the only brave sailors up for fishing this afternoon, eh buddy?” he said, slapping Edward’s back again. “Think we should cancel? We could play some backgammon in the bar.”

  Stan had a point. Only adventurous, outgoing sorts would go out today. The kind of men Christy admired. “Absolutely not. No way. I’m looking forward to catching some…er pickerel.” He turned to the boats again. “Don’t forget, they provide a professional guide.”

  “Hello, gentlemen.” On cue, a young female voice called out from the beach. “I’m Lily, your fishing guide.”

  Turning to the sound, Edward lifted his arm in return to her friendly wave. No way. Slight, with unruly blond curls swirling around her face, she looked more like a sea nymph than a sturdy seaman. But dressed in faded jeans and a weatherproof jacke
t, she was more appropriately dressed than either men on the dock.

  In knee-high yellow boots, she waded into the shallow water and grabbed the bow of the closest boat. Unclipping its rope from the line, she hopped onto the pier and trailed the boat to its far end. Dropping to her knees, she secured the boat with a well-executed knot.

  Rising, she smiled and offered her small hand. “The hotel provides all your fishing gear and a light snack.” She nodded toward the boat. “I’ll take the back seat next to the motor.”

  Stan clambered in first, claiming the seat closest to the front of the boat. Then Edward stepped into the

  center and dropped into the vacant middle spot, one seat closer to their guide.

  Peering over the edge he calculated that, with their combined weight, the boat had sunk only a few inches deeper into the water. Buoyancy, a fascinating phenomenon.

  Lily wrapped her fingers around the pull cord’s handle and yanked hard. The outboard growled to life, leaving a trail of bubbles behind them as they pulled away from the pier. In minutes, they’d buzzed across the bay to Osprey Island.

  She dropped an anchor over the side and called out, “Here we are. A shoal runs the length of the island and this spot is a proven honey hole for pickerel. I think there’s a front coming in, so you’re almost certain to land a few fish.” A front. He eyed the distance from where the white-tipped waves broke against the island’s rocky shore back to the mainland.

  She unearthed two fishing rods from the bulky canvas bag stowed at her feet and handed over a small plastic case containing a half-dozen shiny lures. Some were fluorescent plastic things with three hooks on the end and a few were shiny and metallic with a single hook. “Any one of these lures will do the job, so pick what looks lucky to you and attach it the end of your rod.”

  Without hesitation he selected a triple-hook. Why waste your time with the others, he figured. The sooner they got out of this mini Titanic the better.

  “Now, just follow my example with the rod. Draw back, release the line and direct it toward a spot about twenty feet from the boat.” Her lure whizzed across the water.

  It seemed like all the women in Buttermilk Falls

  were talented, capable and extremely pretty. He cast into the waves. He hadn’t met Delaney, but her paintings were excellent and her photo in the brochure proved her to be quite attractive.

  And then there was Christy. His fingers loosened on the reel, his line ran unattended, undulating on the water’s surface. She was smart, movie star beautiful and really sweet too.

  “Edward,” Lily called out, “reel up a bit or your line will tangle.”

  He jumped to correct the problem. As for his name, it felt too late to suggest Lily call him Ted. He’d missed his chance at first introduction and telling her now just seemed silly.

  After a couple of missed attempts both he and Stan mastered the art of hooking and landing fish. Even Lily seemed impressed with their catch. “You two are doing an amazing job at filling the live well. You’ve enough here for a nice dinner for your family, or you can release them back to the lake.”

  He peered into the tank. “How do you fillet fish, Lily?” The idea of providing a meal for Christy was ridiculously appealing.

  “Don’t worry,” Lily assured, “at the Nirvana, the guests have all fun and we handle all the mundane stuff. The kitchen will prepare and serve your catch for dinner tonight, if you decide to keep it.”

  He closed the lid of the tank and turned to Stan. “So what do think? Release or eat?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ve never caught anything bigger than a minnow in my life. There’s no way I’m releasing any of mine. I want my boys to see what their old man caught. Let’s fry them up for dinner!”

  Stan had a point. He’d love to be the guy in the brochure holding up a string of fish. And if Christy

  happened to see him come ashore with his catch, well, that would be good too.

  “I’m with Stan. Let’s keep ‘em.”

  Lily beamed at her pupils. “So have you had enough, men, or shall we circle the Osprey Island before going back to the hotel? There’s no fishing on the other side, but the view of the bay is lovely.”

  As successful as the afternoon had been, his legs were cramping in the small space.

  “Oh, go ahead and give us the scenic tour, Lily”, Stan boomed from the bow of the boat. “I heard this island has an interesting history.”

  Expertly turning the tiny craft toward the lower end of the lake, she rounded the end of the island. “That’s Greensly Bay,” she said, her tone softening.

  Christy had mentioned this bay too. He looked beyond the expanse of floating lily pads to the old log lodge nestled in the trees.

  “The local community applauded the Weatheralls’ decision to retract their initial plans to build a heliport here on the island. That decision preserved not only this wonderful fishing spot but also the location of my own marriage proposal.”

  His head whirled to face his guide. “You’re Lily Weatherall?” Wife of the enormously wealthy Weatherall CEO? His gaze dropped to her faded jeans and the worm bucket nestled between her feet.

  “Yes. I’ve lived on this lake all my life and my Grandfather Greensly took me fishing for the first time when I was only three. I guess you could say I got hooked.” She giggled. “I guide whenever I have the time…I’m a marine biologist.” The boat chugged slowly up the opposite side of the island against the current. “My husband, Ethan, and I live just down

  there,” she said, pointing to the beautiful home Christy had mentioned on her tour.

  Edward reached out to shake her hand, forgetting he’d just spent two hours in her company.

  “I’m Edward Shillington, and it’s great to meet you. Christy Graham speaks very highly of you and all the work you do for….the Lake Association? Again, he forgot he was Ted. He’d missed his second opportunity. This was going to take some practice.

  “Isn’t Christy fabulous? But she probably oversold me a bit. I just do what I can—with the Friends of Loon Lake.”

  Yes, that was it, Friends of Loon Lake.

  “Christy is full of great ideas for the hotel and the guests. The Weatherall Group feel that she’s far too valuable to limit her talent to just one hotel. They have plans for her.”

  His chest swelled. He couldn’t agree more. “She does a great job getting everyone organized and excited about her ideas.” Somehow she’d managed to teach him Tai Chi and get him out in a boat with Stan Parker. And he’d only been here a couple of days. His hand stilled on the reel. But what did Lily mean by “plans"?

  “Christy has a solid future in the hotel industry,” Lily went on. “We will hate to lose her, but working at our corporate office in Toronto is a great opportunity. I really admire her dedication and ambition.”

  “Really?” So Recreational Director at this hotel was only a stepping stone to something bigger? He sat up straighter. But why would she leave Loon Lake for a job in administration—especially after all that talk about having the right name for the right job?

  He shifted on the seat and looked across the water

  to the Nirvana Hotel, his breath coming faster. Whatever the reason, he was all for it.

  Christy’s world was foreign—he never knew what to say. It was like walking around blindfolded in a mine field. But the corporate world—that was his comfort zone. He sucked in a lungful of pine-soaked air. Beauties didn’t date geeks, but business women did.

  Again, he readjusted against the seat, anxious to get off the lake. All in all, fishing with Stan hadn’t been so bad. He’d learned plenty about people today—that a marine biologist and CEO’s wife could be a fishing guide and that a recreational director could be headed to a corner office.

  Lily turned the boat toward the pier and twisted the throttle. Their little boat rocked and a tail of white spray shot out from behind. He leaned forward and searched the beach for Christy.

  Turning his head, he called over his should
er to Stan. “Let’s ask the chef to cook our fish tonight. I’ll track down Christy and meet you and your wife around seven o’clock. What do you say?”

  Lily’s head bobbed up from the tackle box. She smiled and returned to packing up the lures.

  He’d call Christy as soon as they docked. Dinner with Stan wasn’t high on his list, but if it meant more time with Christy he was all in.

  “Sounds good. I’ll be bringing the boys too.” Stan smiled. “You’ll love them once you get to know them.”

  “Great.” Christy liked kids, so maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it sounded.

  Lily eased their boat in behind the pontoon boat. Jason appeared and grabbed the rope. Offering his hand to Lily, he nodded his head toward the live well. “Nice work men. To the kitchen?”

  “Absolutely, Jason,” Stan boomed, patting his pants for his cell phone. “But first I want my boys to see them. Too bad my wife is still at the spa.”

  “Not to worry, Stan,” Lily said. “I’ll take a few pictures and have the front desk send the images up to the computer in your room.” She pulled a small digital camera from her pack. “I’m thrilled you had a good day. Enjoy your dinner!” Her smile included everyone.

  He returned her smile and pulled back his shoulders. “Thanks Lily. I enjoyed the experience. Kudos to you and your husband on the success of the hotel.”

  Lily smiled. “We have fabulous staff, like Christy.” She waved and hurried up the pier toward the hotel.

  ****

  Her mud mask smelled damp and earthy, like McKay’s lower meadow. Lying on her back with her hands soaking in a cucumber and aloe concoction, and her feet in the hands of a professional masseuse, she was seconds from falling asleep. She sighed, cracking the mud mask at the corners of her mouth. She had the best job in the world.