“Never. I was only supposed to listen. But…”
She turned in her seat to face him. “But what?”
“I might have made a few bucks telling their boyfriends a few things so they knew what to expect.”
“You didn’t.”
He shrugged. “I was saving for a telescope and I saw an opportunity to help my fellow man. No guy should be caught unaware.”
“You were interested in the solar system?”
Interesting that she chose the sky over his selling information to call him on. “I was into Heaven Brooks and she was all about the stars. Thought I’d impress her with the size of my viewfinder.” He exited the highway and turned toward the mountains.
Charlie smirked. “Was she?”
Connor thought about lying, but only for a second. “No. She decided some other guy was more her type.”
“Silly girl.” Charlie got comfortable with her back against the seat again. “Pretty name, though.”
“How’d you get the nickname Charlie? It’s a big stretch from Ashley.”
She waved her hand in the air. “It’s a long, story and oh, look, the sign for Las Mundas.”
All of a sudden Loose Lips Charlie didn’t want to talk? If they weren’t pulling into the entrance for Las Mundas, he would have pressed her more.
“Conner,” she said, awe in her voice already. “What is this place?”
“It’s the best garden you’ll ever visit.” They pulled into a spot in the busy parking lot. “Back in the 40s a wealthy artist and writer named Jonathan Mundas bought the land.” Connor got out of the car and hurried around the hood to open Charlie’s door. “He spent the next thirty years designing and building a surrealistic landscape with canals, sculptures, trees, and plants. I’ll give you the tour.”
She put her bag over her shoulder, slipping the camera out at the same time. “World Heritage Fund helped with preservation?”
“We restored several of the concrete structures, installed an interpretive display to teach visitors about the site, and support conservation research by local college students. Environmental factors have proven the biggest threat so we’ve brought in landscape architects to help teach the stewardship running the site that the fantastical creations can coexist with a natural landscape.”
“You’re talking tree roots.”
“Among other things, yes. Marrying the natural world with man-made structures took talent and vision and we want to help protect it. The grounds get thousands of visitors taking a detour off the Route every year.”
“I can see why.” Charlie tilted her head back as they walked under the bamboo arch entrance, whimsical concrete columns lending support, colorful vines with waxy red flowers bundled in interesting shapes. “It’s like a Roald Dahl sanctuary.”
Connor let her words sink in. She looked at the world through lighthearted, inventive eyes that reminded him life shouldn’t be taken too seriously. “That’s exactly what it’s like.”
The impish crinkle in the corner of her bright blue eyes had him smiling in return.
“Connor, you made it,” a male voice said, drawing his attention away from Goldilocks.
“Esteban, it’s good to see you.” Connor shook the older man’s hand. “Sorry, I’m late.”
“It’s my fault, Esteban. Hi, I’m Char—Ashley Morgan with Natural World. Would it be okay if I took some pictures while I looked around?”
“Of course,” Esteban said.
“Great. Thanks.” She took off, obviously not interested in his tour-guide skills. Normally he preferred to let others have the task, but today he’d wanted to.
For the next hour he and Esteban drove a cart around the property and went over how the preservation techniques were working. The abnormally wet winter had allowed plant growth to go unchecked in some areas and Connor met with the group of landscapers, advising them on how to maintain as much wildlife as possible while safeguarding several concrete structures.
He and Esteban stopped at the wood-and-bamboo cabin that housed Mundas’s writings on the walls last. The small, whimsical house had suffered damage that took Connor some time to assess. So lost in detailing the long-term steps to protect the building, he hadn’t noticed Charlie standing just outside the open window frame. With her head tilted to the side and her eyes focused right on him, she looked as if she were hanging on his every word. Pride swelled inside him.
She nodded. A gesture, he guessed, that meant she wanted him to continue, so he did. When he and Esteban stepped out of the cabin, she was gone.
Hurrying back to the main area of the gardens, he thanked Esteban for the time and expertise he and local organizations were dedicating to the garden. He’d be back, he said, with a small crew at the end of the month to help revive the cabin. Then he went in quick search of Charlie.
Sunlight bounced off the land, brilliant in spots, subtle in others. Young and old alike strolled through the grounds as he made his way toward his favorite sculpture—the Stairway To The Sky. He never tired of seeing the winding stairs wrapped around a concrete pillar that reached toward the clouds.
A young boy stood at the foot of the architectural folly with his head craned back, chin jutting up. A woman held his hand. “Momma, are these the steps to Grandpa?”
The woman looked down at her son. “They lead to whoever you want them to. It’s different for everyone.”
Connor gulped. He’d been about the same age when his grandfather passed away and his mom had taken it hard. Maybe if she’d had a place like this to visit, it would’ve eased her mind. He’d never taken the time to realize it before, but many of the monuments he worked to preserve were about more than heritage. They were about hope.
His eyes were drawn away from the stairway to a small concrete bench. Goldilocks tucked a notepad away in her bag. He went and sat beside her, so drawn to her natural beauty that his heart pounded like it never had before.
They touched from their arms down to their knees, and it felt amazing to be connected that way.
“This place is magical,” she acknowledged with admiration and respect, her focus straight ahead. “I could spend hours here.”
“That a hint?”
“It wouldn’t kill you to ease up on the time frame a little. Here, give me your watch.” She put her hand out and waggled her fingers. “I’ll keep time for a while.”
“You want to wear my watch?”
“Uh-huh.”
For some reason having something of his on her body sounded hot and worth being tardy for. He took off his Omega, a birthday gift from his parents last year, and slipped it on her wrist. It hung like a bracelet, but his gut tightened at the sight. “Now what are you going to give me?”
She twirled the watch. “I just gave it to you.”
“What was it?” He looked around them.
“Free rein.” She jumped to her feet. “Take me somewhere the public doesn’t get to see and tell me more about heritage protection. Teach me everything.”
He stood. Bossy Goldilocks jacked up his pulse and he wanted to be mad about it, but everything that came out of her mouth put a ridiculous smile on his face instead.
Chapter Six
Charlie slowly pried opened her right eye to see where they were on the highway. She’d feigned sleep for the last couple of hours to avoid talking. After asking a boatload of questions—professional and personal—at Las Mundas, she figured she owed it to Connor to be quiet for a while.
She gave a little stretch and fake yawn and took a better look out the windshield. Tiny white spots danced in front of her as the sun set, making it difficult to focus. “Where are we?”
“A small town just outside Albuquerque near the Sandia Mountains. We’ll be here for a couple of days while I oversee a few things at the Hotel Buena Vista. It officially reopens next week.”
“The area is beautiful,” Charlie said, now that her eyes had adjusted to the sun’s eye-level light.
Connor nodded.
“
What makes this hotel special?”
“For almost ninety years it’s been a popular place to stay for transcontinental travelers. It has a history of hosting thousands of interesting people, from bank robbers to celebrities, which makes it appealing to locals and vacationers. We’ve preserved the exterior and kept as much of the old look as possible, but brought the rooms up to date.”
Charlie loved it already. She couldn’t recall ever staying anywhere historic, let alone a hotel with a colorful history.
And she wasn’t disappointed when they arrived. The quaint, four-story hotel with white shingles and red flowers blooming in windowsills charmed at first sight. Inside, the antique furnishings and dark, warm colors made her want to curl up in one of the high-back chairs with her sketchpad.
“Mr. Gibson,” the white-haired man behind the desk bellowed. “We’ve been expecting you.”
“Hello, Mac.” Connor extended his hand in greeting. “And I keep telling you to call me Connor.”
“Connor.” Mac’s full cheeks rounded further as he smiled.
“This is Ashley Morgan, a reporter tagging along with me this week. Please let everyone know to answer her questions and share any special insight into the hotel.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ashley,” Mac said.
Charlie tried to swallow the guilt lodged in her throat like tar. It took her a second to reply. “Please call me Charlie.”
“Mr. Punctual finally shows up,” a deep, masculine voice said over Charlie’s shoulder. “I was starting to worry.”
She turned, grazing Connor’s arm as he did the same, and electricity tap-danced across her skin. He cut her a quick glance like maybe he felt it, too.
“Worried my ass,” Connor said to the man approaching. They shared a one-armed hug with pats on the back. “Clay, this is Ashley, the reporter I texted you about. Ashley, Clay Doherty, head of security for World Heritage Fund.”
Clay’s assessing green eyes put her a little on edge. Not to mention he was all brawn and burliness and could probably knock her over with a tiny push from his pinkie.
“I, uh, usually go by Charlie. Nice to meet you.” She smiled.
“I always go by Clay and the pleasure is all mine.” Instead of smiling at her, he grinned at Connor and Charlie wasn’t sure what to make of it. “I need to catch Gibson up on a few things. Why don’t you look around?”
“Sure.”
Connor picked up her duffel bag and then his own. “I’ll have Mac hang on to these until we check into our rooms.”
“Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later.”
She watched them walk away—okay, she watched Connor’s very nice butt and broad shoulders walk away—before she strolled around the lobby, checked out the restaurant and lounge, and made her way outside along a brick pathway lined with sweet-smelling foliage and more red flowers. The sun slid into slumber as she reached the end of the walkway so she returned indoors and got comfortable on one of the high-back chairs. She started sketching and every muscle in her body relaxed.
“That’s really good.”
Charlie startled at Connor’s sexy voice and kind words. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed or noticed him approach, so lost in her drawings she’d tuned everything else out. He knelt beside her for a closer look. “Seriously good,” he said.
“Thank you,” she whispered and quickly closed her pad.
“Hang on.” He stopped her hand and leafed through a few of the other pages. “You’re incredibly talented, Charlie.”
She sucked in a breath. His compliment made her lightheaded, but his nearness put her heart into a wonderful flutter.
“This is a picture book?” Connor stood.
“Yes.” She took her time meeting his gaze, her eyes tracking up his body. He had a beautiful body. Plus, she needed a few seconds to get used to the idea of him discovering her secret passion.
Her dream.
What she really wanted to do with her life.
Her father had thought it foolish when she’d broached the subject with him after college. “You don’t go to Stanford and then draw pictures and write for children,” he’d said.
“Charlie?”
She blinked away thoughts of her dad. “Sorry. What?”
“I asked if you were an illustrator as well as a writer.”
Her chest tightened. She got to her feet and shook her head, slipped her sketchpad back into her shoulder bag. “No.”
Lines creased his forehead before he said, “I’ve read to my nieces and nephews and what I just saw is right up there with the best of them.”
Tears threatened the backs of her eyes. She looked down at the floor to study the floral pattern in the carpeting.
“Hey.” He lifted her chin with the slightly roughened pads of his fingers. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“The look on your face says otherwise.”
God, did he have to have a look on his that said let me help you? Because at the moment all she wanted to do was kiss him and lose herself to his incredible mouth and honeyed eyes and bone-melting touch.
“My dad thinks being a children’s author and illustrator is silly.”
“So?”
“So end of discussion.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re old enough to make your own decisions.”
“Not if I want to continue to have a relationship with my dad.” She took a step away from him. “Let’s just check in now, okay?”
He studied her for a beat before moving toward the registration desk. “It’s a good name,” he said.
“What?”
“Finley Quay. Kids would really like it.”
She smiled to herself. She loved the name of her basset hound and main character.
“Mac, we’re ready to head up,” Connor said, leaning on the desk.
“Absolutely. Rooms 310 and 312.” He handed Connor the key cards. “Things have been quiet on three.”
“Great, thanks. Bags there already?”
“Yes, sir.” Mac gave a nod and turned his attention to Charlie. “Enjoy your stay Miss Morgan.”
“Oh, uh, thank you. I’m sure I will.” Crap. She’d wasted an hour drawing instead of asking the staff questions and taking pictures. “And what did you mean ‘things have been quiet on three’?”
“I’ll explain on the way.” Connor strode to the elevator where they joined two other couples. “Evening,” he said, drawing nods from the men and flirty smiles from the women.
“So,” Charlie said, as they got off on three and walked down the hallway. “What did Mac mean?”
“The hotel is supposedly haunted.”
Charlie stumbled before coming to a halt. “What?”
Connor looked over his shoulder. “You okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. How could you bring me”—she gulped—“to a haunted hotel?”
Laughter danced in his gorgeous eyes, but a second later concern replaced the amusement. No doubt due to the panic in hers. He took her hand and rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“Yes there is.”
“You’ve seen one?” he asked honestly, and she wanted to kiss him again.
And God, her hand felt good where his thumb massaged. She wanted his fingers in other places. Which only proved how enamored she was with him because how could she possibly relax with spirits around?
“I’m not crazy.”
One corner of his sexy mouth tugged up. “I didn’t say you were.”
“Something weird happened once to make me believe.”
He laced his fingers with hers and tugged her toward room 310. “Let’s get inside and you can tell me about it.”
“I can’t.”
“Go in the room?” He pulled the key card out of the door and turned his head.
“Talk about it.” She freaked herself out just thinking about it. The weekend away with her college boyfriend to a swanky hotel and being awakened i
n the middle of the night by the feeling someone was watching her. And then her boyfriend bolting up out of bed because he swore he felt someone place a hand over his mouth and he couldn’t breathe. They’d later found out a woman had been killed in the room and thrown from the window by her husband. Similar reports had happened for over thirty years. Charlie told the concierge the room needed to come with a warning.
“Then we’ll have to keep your mind on something else.” Heat flared in his eyes and he opened the door.
Charlie forgot how to breathe. She already knew that mouth of his could kiss like nobody’s business, but combined with flirtatious words like that?
The big yellow yield sign she’d been seeing in the back of her mind turned to dust.
“We definitely will.”
…
The need to comfort Goldilocks almost matched the need to have her. Better yet, he could comfort her while burying himself deep inside her. That ought to make her forget about anything but him.
He pushed open the door and held it for her to enter first. Her teeth bit into her bottom lip as she brushed by him and he wanted to toss her onto the bed, strip off her clothes, lift her arms above her head, and slowly sink into her warm, welcome flesh.
Clay’s smug smile and irritating words from earlier flashed in his mind. “You’re going down, Gibson.” Meaning the drunken bet they’d made last month over which one of them had sex with strings attached first, owed the other a Porsche 918 Spyder. How the hell Clay knew he felt something for Charlie, he had no idea. Their friend and work associate McCall had often said Clay could see things in a person no one else could. And get them to share all their secrets. That was one of the things that had made him a top Navy SEAL before getting into security.
The Porsche’s price tag? A million dollars.
“We’re connected,” Goldilocks said.
Connor’s gaze jumped from the sweet curve of her ass in tight jeans to her beautiful face. “Sorry?” He sure as hell wanted them connected. Naked bodies pressed together until the scent on her skin covered and lingered on his.
She turned and nodded at a door. “Our rooms are connected. Which makes me a little more comfortable.”
His Million Dollar Risk Page 6