"But you can't do this in a pool." Suddenly, without a hint of a warning, Garrett placed his hands around Shelby's waist.
Shelby felt heat flare within her. Their eyes met and held and a heavy silence engulfed them. Was he going to kiss her? she wondered. Did she want him to? Her heart was thundering madly against her ribs so hard and so loud, the beats echoed in her ears.
As she was pondering those questions, she felt his strong fingers tighten around her waist, felt him lifting her up, up of her feet. A dizzying, disorienting moment later, she was flying through the air and then plunging back into the water several feet away from him. She went under and came up spluttering.
Shelby grabbed a handful of her wet hair and pushed it out of her eyes. "You threw me!" she gasped.
"You've got a keen grasp of the obvious."
Shelby waded through the water, which lapped around her waist, back to where Garrett stood. He was grinning down at her, unrepentantly.
She found herself grinning back. "It was fun. Do it again."
* * *
Chapter 3
« ^ »
Garrett obliged. He picked her up by her waist, raised her out of the water and tossed her as easily as a beach ball. Once again, Shelby experienced the rush of sailing through the air and crashing back into the warm, clear water. Once again, she waded back to him.
"Again?" he asked.
She nodded. He picked her up and threw her again. Shelby emerged from under the water, laughing.
"One more time?" suggested Garrett.
He didn't wait for her reply but waded over to her, picked her up and tossed her back into the ocean. "Now it's your turn to throw me," he said when Shelby surfaced.
She eyed his solid, hard frame. "You've got to be kidding."
"Come on," he urged. "You at least have to try."
"What do you think I am? A sumo wrestler? I can't pick you up!"
"You can in the water. It negates gravity or something."
"'Negates gravity'?" Shelby repeated scornfully. "I'll bet you were a whiz in physics class with theories like that."
"I never took physics," Garrett confessed. He cupped his hand and splashed a spray of water at her. "I wasn't into science. My talents lay elsewhere—like in the cheap-motel industry."
"And in unassailable concepts like family fun," Shelby added. She vigorously splashed him back. "Personally, I've always considered family fun to be an oxymoron. You know, a complete contradiction in terms."
"Having met your father, I can understand why. Are your mother and sister as bad or worse?"
Shelby used both hands to shower him with blasts of water. "My mother is a dear. Everybody loves her. My sister is…" Her voice trailed off. How to describe Laney?
Garrett drew his own conclusions. "A jackal?" he suggested.
She shouldn't have laughed, Shelby scolded herself after she'd already done so. She tried to repair the damage. "Wait until you see Laney. You'll be tripping over your tongue as you spout accolades to her beauty."
"I never spout accolades," Garrett assured her.
He glided swiftly through the water to stand before her. "Are you going to toss me or not?" he challenged.
"I told you, it's impossible. Look." Shelby tentatively placed her hands on his waist. Her fingers locked around his wet skin, she felt his hard warmth beneath her palms. "See, I can't budge you. You're solid as a…a…" The husky thickness of her voice surprised her, and she lost her train of thought.
Her eyes flew to his face, just as he lowered his head to hers. Before she had a chance to speak or move or even think, Garrett's arms came around her and his mouth took hers.
For a split second Shelby was so startled she stood rigid in his embrace, her eyes wide open, her lips closed. She was pressed so tightly against him that she could feel him everywhere, enveloping her in his seductive masculine heat. She was achingly aware of the virile, burgeoning strength of him throbbing against her, of the muscular hardness of his chest crushing her breasts.
His mouth was seductively firm and tasted of saltwater, his big hands moved slowly and sensuously over her, molding her ever closer against the taut male planes of his body. Shelby's eyelids drifted shut as her arms crept around his neck. Her mind seemed to have short-circuited, giving her body free reign to do as it liked. And it most definitely liked these exciting, enthralling feelings coursing through her. A glowing warmth flamed deep in her belly, and she felt a secret intimate ache that swelled and throbbed within her.
Her lips parted for him and his tongue penetrated the warm wetness of her mouth, deepening the kiss. Shelby moaned when his tongue rubbed hers, stroking in tantalizing sensual simulation.
He slipped his thigh between hers and she yielded to him, parting her legs to accommodate the thrusting male pressure. Hot, sweet pleasure streaked through her. Shelby clung to him, drowning in a smooth silky sea of desire. As if of their own volition, her hands moved over the taut muscles of his back, reveling in the solid masculine feel of him. Her fingers dared to move lower, to the strong muscular curve of his buttocks.
Garrett lifted his mouth from hers and, groaning, buried his lips in the soft, damp curve of her neck. He was breathing hard and his heartbeat was hammering in his ears, as if he'd been running in a high-speed race. He clutched her possessively, caressing her, inhaling her sweet and salty scent.
The feel of her soft hands on him was so arousing that his mind seemed to splinter. When she uttered a small, sexy moan, he took her mouth again. He tilted her head back, slanting his mouth more securely over hers to deepen the kiss and heighten the intimacy.
Shelby kissed him back with an ardor and a passion she had never before experienced. Her senses seemed to be excruciatingly attuned to him, to their kiss and her own wild responses. Her breasts were pressed against the wall of his chest, and their sensitive tips tightened with aching pleasure. Shelby twisted feverishly against him, rising on tiptoe to fit herself even more intimately into him. A syrupy warmth flowed through her. His mouth was hot and hard and demanding, and she loved it.
They kissed hungrily, fiercely, their kisses growing wilder and hotter and longer, one blending into another. Garrett's hands were in constant motion, touching her all over, caressing the curve of her breasts, her waist and hips. Cupping the rounded firmness of her bottom, his long fingers kneaded through the wet cotton covering her. He longed to strip it off, to see her, to feel her without the restricting material. He stroked the backs of her thighs, up and down in a sensually mesmerizing rhythm, then slipped his fingers under the wide-cut hem of her shorts.
Shelby felt his fingertips trace the elastic leg band of her panties, then slip audaciously underneath. The intimacy was shocking enough to jar her sense of time and of place back to the fore. Abruptly, she jerked herself away from him, her withdrawal so quick and unexpected that Garrett had no time to prevent her.
And he definitely would have prevented her from pulling out of his arms, he admitted, as he stared dazedly down at her. She was looking at him, her lips moist and slightly swollen from their kisses, her hazel eyes cloudy with passion. A shudder of desire racked him. He wanted nothing more than to yank her back into his arms and kiss her until hey were both senseless.
And Shelby knew it. The intensity in his blue gaze made her quiver. "I—it's broad daylight and we're right here in he ocean," she murmured shakily. "Anyone walking along the beach could see us…" Her voice trailed off. She was shaken and off-balance by her wild uninhibited response to him, and more than a little unnerved by the completeness of her surrender.
Garrett's mouth curved into a slow, sexy smile. "Do you want to go back to the cottage and continue this there?"
"No!" Shelby exclaimed, horrified. She had regained full control of herself. The unbridled passion that had sparked between them only moments ago now seemed impossible and inconceivably out of character for her. One moment they had been playing and splashing in the water together and the next they'd been locked in a hot embrace.
Shelby frowned. When was the last time she'd played and splashed in the water? When she'd been three? Perhaps four? Certainly by the time she had reached kindergarten age, she had learned to take swimming seriously and had abandoned all water play.
"Are you sure?" Garrett reached out his arm to run his thumb along the length of her bare arm. Shelby jumped away from him, as if he'd burned her with a match, the pathway of skin he'd traced, hot and tingling.
"I'm positive!" she snapped. "I—I don't even like you!"
"You don't, hmm?" Garrett arched his brows. "You could've fooled me, honey."
A hot bolt of anger streaked through her. "Don't call me honey! I'm not one of your floozies!"
"Floozies?" Garrett laughed out loud. "Where did you come up with that one? Masterpiece Theater?"
Shelby glared at him. "I suppose this is standard operating procedure for you—your obligatory pass at the boss's daughter. But let me tell you it's disgusting and demeaning. Do you need to … to validate your masculinity by making a pass at every woman you meet?"
"Your father is not my boss," Garrett said calmly. "And I had no doubts about my masculinity, although if I had, your passionate response certainly would've … um … validated it."
He moved closer, close enough to trace the taut outline of her nipple, which was defined and straining against the double layers of wet cloth plastered to her. He touched the pad of his thumb to the tight center and rubbed gently.
Shelby gasped as fiery sparks of pleasure flared and burned deep in the most secret part of her. She immediately slapped his hand away, as enraged by his unspeakable boldness as by her own traitorous response to it.
"I'm leaving," she announced, turning to the shore. "I refuse to spend another moment in your company. You can entertain yourself until your lunch with my father."
"Shelby," he called.
Shelby didn't stop walking, though she looked over her shoulder to glower imperiously at him. "If you try to stop me, I'll fight you," she promised. "I took a self-defense class and I can do major damage."
"I'm letting you go," Garrett called back, "because I want to, not because I'm even remotely worried about your fighting ability."
He watched her wade out of the water and storm up the beach to snatch her shoes and socks. She didn't bother to put them on, but broke into a run along the sand in the direction of the hotel.
Garrett stayed in the water, watching her until she disappeared from view. He wasn't as cool as he'd led her to believe. He was thoroughly flummoxed by his incendiary response to her. He had kissed her on impulse, but he'd never expected her passionate response, which, in turn, had sent him soaring into the sexual stratosphere.
There was something downright fateful about the whole thing. His Grandmother McGrath was big on fate, always seeing its determining hand in everything, Garrett recalled with a smile. He was more prosaic and pragmatic himself. What Gran called fate, he called timing. The timing had to be right in buying and selling, just as timing was everything in sex, love and friendship.
Right now, the timing seemed highly auspicious. His first venture into the high-end hotel business had led to an encounter with a woman who interested, amused and aroused him.
He didn't take it lightly. The motel business was Garrett's real love and he'd come to accept that. He never expected to meet a woman as compelling to him as his business dealings.
Not that he had much opportunity to look for one. He was simply too busy to spend much time on his social life. There were too many other demands on his time. Since business took him all over the country, he was never in one place long enough to cultivate a serious relationship, though he'd had a certain number of no-strings, temporary ones. What red-blooded single man who'd reached the age of thirty-six hadn't?
Lost in thought, Garrett slowly retraced his path to the hotel. Timing, he thought again. For the past year he'd been growing tired of the way things were and had finally decided to halt his descent into boredom and make some changes in his life. Adding the Halford House to the Family Fun Inns had been a professional change but it seemed that it might be time to make other changes, as well. Changes involving his personal life and those no-strings, temporary relationships.
Would Shelby Halford be part of those changes or was she merely the catalyst for what was to come? He didn't know the answer but the question intrigued him.
* * *
Halford House's formal dining room overlooked the ocean, providing a spectacular view for the diners. A smaller, more casual dining room known as The Grill was centrally located in the complex, surrounded by two huge, crystal blue pools, complete with cascading waterfall and poolside bar. Also on the premises were tennis courts, a golf course and a spa, all equipped with their own staff. A dock and marina adjacent to the private beach made sailboats, Jet Skis and catamarans available for hourly or daily rentals. The arcade of exclusive shops and the nightclub with live entertainment and dancing provided diversions for those guests uninterested in land or water sports.
"I'm impressed," Garrett said as he toured the facilities with Shelby, pretending that it was the first time he'd seen them.
"It's like a world unto itself," Paul Whitley enthused. "A perfect world. Only the very best for the very best people."
Garrett glared at him. When Arthur Halford had instructed Shelby to give Garrett a detailed, guided tour of the facilities this afternoon, he hadn't mentioned that this bronze, blond surfer in the ice-cream suit would be part of the group.
Only the very best for the very best people. Whitley's elitist sentiment instantly grated on Garrett. He visualized a 1940s version of Paul Whitley informing young Jack and Kate McGrath that they couldn't be hired to serve the revered patrons of Halford House because they didn't qualify, classwise. Only the very best for the very best people.
"Exactly what is your function here, Whitley?" Garrett asked, and received an icy look of disapproval from Shelby for his slightly challenging tone. But he was genuinely puzzled. Arthur Halford had made no mention of Paul Whitley, though he seemed to have some sort of official function around here. And some sort of connection to Shelby. Garrett frowned.
"Paul was the evening assistant manager at the Casa del Marina Resort in California," Shelby replied before Paul had a chance to. "He was highly thought of there, and we here at Halford House are very fortunate that he was willing and able to join us."
"And do what?" Garrett pressed. "Be the evening assistant manager? Do they need an assistant manager on every shift? Seems like bloated staffing, if you ask me."
Shelby refrained from pointing out the obvious: that no one had asked Garrett "Cut Rate" McGrath anything. Yet he was the one doing all the asking, and offensively, too.
She glanced from Paul's immaculate summer suit to Garrett's inappropriate cutoffs and hideous banana yellow T-shirt imprinted with bright oranges and a palm tree, with Florida emblazed over the tacky scene in multicolored letters. She didn't allow herself to concentrate on his muscular build or to remember the virile strength of him when he'd held her in his arms. She didn't dare let her eyes linger on his hard, sensuous mouth or his deep, dark blue eyes. And most of all, she refused to even think about those impulsive, tempestuous kisses they'd shared in the ocean that morning.
Instead, she concentrated on his offending attire. No one wore jeans at Halford House, and as for his T-shirt … such an item had to have been purchased at an airport gift shop at best, or at worst, from one of those tourist-trap junk shops littering the coast. Thank goodness such places had not infected unspoiled Port Key—yet.
Shelby had a sudden horrible thought. "You're not thinking of trying to build a Family Fun Inn here on the island, are you?"
Was this his standard operating procedure? she wondered nervously. To come to a resort as an "observer" while casing the surrounding area like a burglar planning a follow-up sneak attack? She didn't know, Shelby realized. She knew nothing of how Garrett McGrath and his ever-successful Family Fun Inns broke
into a new market. Her lack of knowledge suddenly seemed a dangerous oversight.
"Where did that non sequitur come from?" Garrett asked, amused. "Oh, wait, let me guess. You were giving my T-shirt the evil eye… It naturally follows that your thoughts would jump from tacky T-shirt stands to Family Fun Inns."
"The presence of a Family Fun Inn would devalue Halford House, perhaps even leading to a similar crisis which befell the Blue Springs Resort," Paul Whitley said in alarm. "When the masses descend, they demand their usual prole vacation trappings—the junk food and souvenir places, the water slides and miniature golf." He shuddered, as if discussing a particularly gory mass murder.
"I seem to be experiencing a case of déjà vu," Garrett said dryly. "I had this same conversation with Shelby earlier this morning. Don't you high-end types talk about anything else? How about the weather? Or the local ball club?"
"You didn't answer my question, Garrett," Shelby pressed, anxiety gnawing at her. "Are you planning to put a Family Fun Inn here on Port Key?"
He liked the sound of his name on her lips, Garrett decided. This was the first time she'd addressed him as such and it pleased him that she was beginning to think of him on a first-name basis, though he doubted that she was aware of it herself.
His lips quirked. "No, Shelby, I promise I am not planning to put a Family Fun Inn anywhere near Port Key or Halford House."
It was a vow he could make with a clear conscience. He and Art Halford had signed the sale papers at lunch. He now owned Halford House. There was no way he was going to bring in a Family Fun Inn to compete with his own property.
"I wish I could believe you," Shelby murmured worriedly.
"I'll provide you with a sworn affidavit signed in blood, if you'd like. I, Garrett McGrath, do solemnly swear to keep Port Key free from Family Fun."
"Gentleman's word of honor?" Paul Whitley suggested, offering his hand to shake.
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