by Jackie Wang
“I don't want you to treat me any differently from the rest of the staff,” Maggie said, arresting my gaze with her bewitching eyes.
“Don't worry…I wasn't planning on it,” I said.
“Good.” Maggie stood up, smoothing out her sweater dress. “If you want to criticize me, go ahead. I'm a big girl. I can handle it.” I realized she'd changed her outfit. Her new ensemble consisted of a figure-flattering knit dress and ankle boots. Did she do that for me? “Well, lay it on me,” she said, her lips quirking up as if to challenge me.
She wanted the truth from me...
I'd give her the goddamn truth.
“Maggie?”
“Yes, Roman?”
“You did an absolute shit job cleaning my room,” I said. “If you were my employee, I would’ve fired you on the spot. I’ll need you to dust my suite top to bottom tomorrow. Wipe, vacuum, wash everything. Bright and early.” It was also my excuse to see her again. Not that she needed to know that.
Maggie bit that succulent bottom lip of hers and nodded. “Noted,” she said. “I'll clean it tomorrow morning. Anything else?”
I nodded. “One more thing...Wear something more appropriate for work tomorrow.”
Maggie frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Your breasts were practically popping out earlier.”
“I don’t wear that to work!” Maggie cried, cheeks flaming. “I wasn't working when I came up earlier. And it wasn’t that bad!”
“Just thought I'd remind you to keep things professional.”
Maggie walked toward me and poked me in the chest with her index finger. “Well, how about you practice what you preach, Mr. Finnegan, and stop checking out my boobs. Perv!”
“I wasn't deliberately checking them out, they were actively trying to escape from your top,” I said, wrapping my hand around her finger and holding it tight. “If you're not careful, you'll end up giving people the wrong ideas.”
Maggie twisted away from my grasp and bit her lip. “What wrong ideas?”
“You know...”
“Say it,” she challenged.
“That you're a tramp.”
“Good night, Mr. Finnegan!” Maggie cried indignantly before she left.
I grinned as I watched her stomp upstairs. The look on her face when she got riled up...priceless. That quirk of her lips, the way her nostrils flared…the way she batted her long lashes…
Something told me it’d take every ounce of my self-restraint to keep things professional between us.
Chapter 5
13 days left
“I know I said 'bright and early', but you do realize it's six in the morning, right?” I asked. It was still dark out, and I was leaning against the door frame in my pinstripe flannel pajamas, trying not to ogle the sexy woman in front of me. I was still struggling with the time zone difference, and didn’t appreciate the early morning wake up call.
Maggie was wearing a bubble-gum pink uniform, paired with a bucket of cleaning supplies and a massive feather duster. An old Hoover sat to her left. “Just wanted to prove how serious I am about my job,” she replied, pushing her way into my room.
“But you forgot the first rule of hospitality,” I said.
“What's that?”
“Guests come first,” I reminded her. I snuck up behind her, relieved her of the bucket, and set it on the floor. “I'm still jet-lagged. Come back in three hours.”
“I won't be here in three hours,” Maggie said. “So it's either now, or Monday.”
“Don't you work here full-time?” I asked.
Maggie shook her head. “Not exactly.”
“Don't tell me you're married,” I said. “That you have housewife duties at home or something.”
“So what if I am?” Maggie shot back. “What's it to you?”
“That would be a pity,” I said. “But I guess I should've seen that coming. A pretty girl like you...lucky bastard probably snatched you up right after high school and put a ring on you.”
Maggie’s brows knit together. “Can I clean your suite or not?” she asked, rolling up her sleeves. “You're already awake.”
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and grinned. “The sun isn't even up yet. Are you always such an early bird?”
“You know what they say,” Maggie said, raising her duster, and tickling my face. “Early to bed and early to rise...”
I let out a sneeze, and Maggie laughed. It was a sweet and clear sound. I could listen to it all day. I wanted to make her laugh again.
The feather duster’s tip cruised along my cheek, and my nose twitched.
“Stop it,” I said, gripping Maggie’s wrist. “That tickles.”
Maggie’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her breasts straining against her uniform. “Let me go.” Her dilated pupils and parted lips beckoned me.
How would she react if I kissed her right now?
She squirmed, but couldn't shake free. I leaned in, until our noses almost touched. I wanted to kiss her, damn it. I didn’t know why; I just did. And only two measly inches separated us.
Maggie inhaled sharply. “I have work to do, Roman. You’re the one who said we needed to be professionals.”
I let go of her wrist, and smoothed out my pajamas. She was right. But her words still stung; a searing reminder to never mix business with pleasure. I cringed, running a rueful hand through my disheveled hair. “Sorry. Please, continue cleaning.”
Maggie mirrored my actions, running her fingers through her hair as well. Then, she smoothed out her uniform, tugging at the hem. Her skin was flushed, and she was breathing fast. The spray of light freckles that caressed her high cheekbones became more prominent. And those glossy, engorged lips…they screamed for a kiss.
I cleared my throat. “How about you start on that hideous stag head over my bed,” I said, gesturing to the beast. “It's absolutely filthy.”
I walked into the bathroom, shut the door, and started the shower. After stripping off my pajamas, I called out, “In case I need to remind you, don't come in, I'm naked.” Not that her bumping into me naked would be the worst thing to happen to us.
“I'm not stupid!” Maggie said. “I have eyes and ears you know.”
Despite the fact she wore such a modest uniform today, I nevertheless fantasized about the way she had looked when we first met yesterday. Bent over on my bed, arse in the air. It wasn't a far stretch to picture her wearing something frilly and see-through, perhaps a lacy number with black garters…matched with a satin bra.
And just now...had she been flirting with me?
Obviously, it didn't take long before my morning wood to became unbearable. I considered rubbing one out before I finished my shower, but restrained myself. After all, it was a slippery slope I did not want to go down. If I did it once, I’d be doing it every day for the next two weeks.
“Do you need fresh towels?” Maggie asked, her voice muffled. “I've made your bed.”
I didn't really, but I said anyway, “Fresh towels would be great, thanks.”
Minutes later, after I'd stepped out of the shower, there was a knock on the bathroom door. “I've left the towels on your bed, and I’ve finished vacuuming.”
“Can you bring me a towel, please?” I asked. “I don't want to walk out naked.”
“Fine.”
I opened the door a crack and Maggie slipped a soft towel through. I hastily dried myself, and then wrapped the towel around my waist. Frowning, I stared down at the tent between my legs and wondered what I could do to quell my lust.
“I need to get going soon. I’m late for an appointment,” Maggie said. “Are you almost done?”
“Almost,” I said.
“Are you decent?”
“Fairly.”
“I’m coming in.”
“No—Hold on, wait—” I cupped my crotch as Maggie strode inside with a spray bottle.
She arched her brows. “Were you doing something nasty in here?”
“No.”
&
nbsp; Within seconds, her gaze drifted down to my hands. Their position immediately compromised me. “Were you—”
“No, I swear, I wasn’t—”
“You’re a man, it’s fine, I get it. But just don’t—not while I’m here,” Maggie said.
Frustrated beyond belief, I let my hands drop. My hard cock sprang free against the soft towel, and Maggie swallowed hard.
“I was trying to—Never mind.” I shook my head. She wouldn’t understand anyway; she already thought the worse of me.
Maggie looked away, at her own distorted reflection in the steamed-up mirror. “C-Can I just clean the tub now?”
I stepped aside. “Yes. I’ll be outside.” I walked up to her, and rested my still-wet palm against her shoulder. “I'm sorry, Maggie. I didn’t—never mind.”
She stiffened under my touch. “Just don't forget that you work for my parents. You might be some hotshot in London, but at Crescent Hill, you need to respect me. And the other staff. That means no jacking off when I’m in the same room, got it?”
“Yes ma'am,” I said, walking back out, toward my open suitcase. “But you need to know something too, Princess. I came here because your family begged me to help them...so you lot are at my mercy, not the other way around.”
Maggie swallowed hard and ran a squeegee up and down the bathroom mirror. “You were kind to answer our call, Roman, but don't think for a second I'll worship the ground you walk on.”
“I wouldn't expect you to.” I shook out a t-shirt and slipped it on. “Truce?”
“You're the troublemaker, not me,” Maggie said, sticking out her tongue. “Now get out of my hair, and let me do my job.”
“Fine, I'll be downstairs having breakfast. Feel free to join me once you're done,” I offered.
“Joke's on you, Finnegan. We don't do breakfast here,” Maggie replied.
“What do you mean you don't do breakfast?” I asked, toweling my hair. “You're a lodge.”
Maggie sank to her knees and bent over the lip of the tub. Her body swayed sensuously as she wiped down the clawfoot soaker. In an almost inaudible whisper, she said, “Dad said it was too much hassle.”
“So where do guests go to eat breakfast?” I asked.
“Daisy's Café across the street, usually,” Maggie said. “Or you can buy something from the Fisherman’s Wharf. Though I don't think it opens until eight or nine.”
“Care to come with me, then?” I asked. “To Daisy’s?”
Maggie bit her lip and considered my proposition. “I don't think that's such a good idea, Roman. It's a small town. People love to gossip. Keep it professional, remember?”
There was that dreaded word again. The one that spelled death to anything that could possibly blossom between us.
“Let them talk. I have nothing to hide.” I took a deep breath.
Maggie paused, her body swiveling around to face mine. “Roman...you know we can’t…we shouldn’t be seen together.”
“We won't be working together forever. I'm only here for two weeks.”
“That's just it. You'll be flying back to London in thirteen days. I don't want to be some cheap fling,” Maggie said. “Like you said, let's just keep it professional, okay?” She kept wringing her sponge, even though it was already dry.
I hated how many times she’d repeated the word, ‘professional’ in the past five minutes. Fuck professional. No woman had been able to capture my attention this quickly in years. There was something about her that I found myself inexplicably drawn to. Maybe it was just a dangerous combination of lust, sleep-deprivation, and blue balls (I hadn’t shagged anyone in over seven months). Whatever it was, I couldn’t shake it off.
I sighed. There was nothing more I could say now to change her mind, though. “Fine. I'll see you later then. Or maybe tomorrow, yeah?”
Maggie nodded. “Have a good day, Roman.”
I waved. “Same to you. See you later, Maggie.”
Chapter 6
I made my way downstairs, and across the street to Daisy's Café. The olive-green storefront wasn’t much to look at, but at least it was tidy and well-maintained. The swinging sign had all its wooden letters intact, and unlike Crescent Hill Lodge, the place looked like its owners actually gave a damn. A mini Cyprus tree planter welcomed me when I crossed the street. Tiny holiday baubles and a glittery star were affixed to its chartreuse stems. Luckily, the shop was just opening as I approached the cheerful yellow front door.
“First customer of the day,” a buxom woman in her late fifties or sixties said. “Welcome to Penderton Island. You must be Roman Finnegan.”
She must’ve been psychic. Either that, or a town gossip. She wore a dark brown jumper, gray trousers, and very sensible shoes.
“You are?”
“Daisy Prescott,” she replied, holding out a callused, flour-dusted hand. “I know everyone in town. You're the only stranger I've seen all week. Come on in, and let's fill you up with some good coffee.”
Daisy was a stout, gray-haired woman who walked with a bit of a limp. As she went around the café, restocking napkins and wiping tables, I asked her about Crescent Hill Lodge.
“Used to be a beautiful place,” Daisy muttered, filling a mug with black coffee and handing it to me. “Then, five years ago, they just stopped caring. Neglected it. Became cold and sour toward the guests, and no one ever came back. Word got around. Business sank like a stone.”
“Did something happen five years ago? Why the change?”
“You'll have to ask Mercy about it,” Daisy said, sliding fresh muffins into a display case. “Not my place to say.” She hobbled over to my table; her ungainliness making my muffin jump around on the plate. Her curious eyes raked over me as she set down my breakfast. “Where are you from, Roman?”
“London.”
Daisy’s eyes glazed over. “Oh, I’ve always wanted to go there. Maybe one day…when I retire…”
I graciously accepted my muffin and began pulling off the wrapper. “How long have you been running this café?”
“Going on fifteen years now. Bought it when I first got married. ‘Course, I’m a widow now.”
“Sorry to hear that,” I said, taking a large bite of my muffin. After chewing and swallowing, I added, “Do you know Maggie Summers?”
Daisy snickered, a hand on her hip. “Who doesn’t?”
I creased my brow. “Why’d you snicker just now?”
“Did I?” Daisy slipped an apron over her head. “I didn’t mean to.”
“What can you tell me about Maggie?”
Daisy stopped what she was doing, and stared at me with her steel wool eyes. “She’s nothing but trouble, that one. I’d stay away from her if I was you.”
I asked Daisy to elaborate, but she clammed up and went back to work. “This café won’t run itself, ya know.”
After asking her a few more questions about the town, its residents, and Penderton Island in general, I thanked her, left a tip, and returned to the lodge.
Mercy was waiting for me in the foyer when I entered through the side door. I stamped my feet on the welcome mat, and shivered a little. “It’s monkeys out there,” I muttered, teeth chattering.
“Had a bite to eat at Daisy's?” Mercy asked. Angry purple crescents hung in fleshy piles around her tired eyes. “Did she update you with the morning gossip?”
“I had some coffee and a muffin, yes. Apparently, you don't serve breakfast here,” I said, frowning.
“We used to...But with practically no guests staying here over the holidays, we decided to cut it out altogether. Wasn’t worth the extra effort. We have self-serve coffee, tea, and Danish cookies, though, by the fireplace.”
“Mercy, things have to change around here,” I said. “You can't run a lodge and not offer guests three square meals a day. You have an empty restaurant, just sitting there, not generating any revenue.”
“It's not easy to convince Langston to change, Roman. Believe me, I've tried,” Mercy said, biting back tears.
“He's just so stubborn. He won't listen. He just won't. Nothing I say can get through that thick skull of his.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “Don't worry, Mercy. I'll make him see the light. It's my job.” I looked around. The lodge seemed deserted. “Where is everyone anyway? And where's Langston?”
“It's Saturday. The lodge is closed on the weekends. Langston sleeps in until noon.”
I just about fainted. “What?” I exploded. “Are you kidding me? It's closed on the weekends? Whose idea was that?”
This place had problem after problem after problem. How they managed to stay open all these years was beyond me. First no breakfast, then shut down for the weekends? Were they trying to go bankrupt on purpose?
“It was actually my idea,” Mercy said. “We haven't had more than three rooms booked on the weekends in months. I look after those guests myself. No one comes here on the weekends, so I tell the staff to stay home.” Mercy shrugged. “No point in paying wages so they can stand around doing nothing.”
“Mercy, you can't do that. A place like this...You should be booked to capacity every weekend for the holidays. People love vacationing on Penderton Island. I've done the research. It's an attractive, up-and-coming tourist destination. The fault is with you, with the hotel. Not with the guests.”
“Yes, people may love the island,” Mercy began, “But, for some reason, they just don't love our lodge.”
“I'm going to check in on my PR team’s progress later. They will try to attract locals and tourists alike to the lodge over the next two weeks. But it'll be up to you and Langston to implement the changes I make to keep this place alive. Got it?”
Mercy nodded slowly, her eyes welling with tears. “Thank you, Roman. I appreciate you helping us. If you didn't come here, we'd probably be bankrupt by January.” I saw a glimpse of the frailty that lay hidden in this woman’s eyes, and I softened. I came here to help her and her family. I wouldn’t leave until I succeeded.
“Don't worry, Mercy. It's my job to turn businesses around. We can do this. But first thing's first, make sure your staff comes in tomorrow. I want to show them the new menu and teach them proper service techniques. No more closing down on weekends, yeah? This lodge should be open all year round.”