"Oh, please spare me your false concern. As if you care whether I'm sad or disappointed or … or enraged! Furthermore, it isn't unusual for a man to be goggle-eyed over Laney. Most men are. She's very beautiful and very charming, as you well know from dinner last night."
"Beautiful, yes." Garrett shrugged. "But being charming includes warmth and spontaneity, and I didn't find that in your sister. She did a passable imitation, but her so-called charm struck me as calculating, a performance she turns on and off at will."
His was so close to her own interpretation of Laney that Shelby was unnerved. She felt disloyal and ashamed of herself for daring to doubt the Halford family creed. "Everybody is crazy about Laney," she recited.
"I'm not," Garrett said bluntly. "She's not only phony, she's boring. It was a struggle to feign an interest in whatever it was she kept jabbering about."
"She talked about her beauty pageant days," Shelby reminded him. "And, of course, about her dogs and how much she loves animals and they love her."
"Oh, yeah." Garrett groaned in reminiscence. "It's all coming back to me now, despite my best efforts to block it out. She claimed a dolphin swam up to her in the ocean and took her for a ride on its back. She happened to be wearing her tiara from the Miss Whatever pageant at the time." He rolled his eyes. "I think she's overdosed on reruns of Flipper."
"You don't believe Laney's story?"
"Oh, come on, Shelby! Riding an untamed dolphin with a tiara on her head? If you believe that, I'll tell you about the time I was abducted by aliens and we cruised the galaxy in their spaceship. Or maybe a tale about my lunch in the Amazon jungle with a lost tribe of headhunters."
"You do lead an interesting life," Shelby said coolly. She managed to suppress the giggle that welled within her. It would be unsisterly to laugh at his derision of Laney. "Everybody thinks Laney's dolphin story is fanciful and charming," she said.
"Who is this 'everybody' you keep quoting, Shelby? Your parents? Paul Whitley? I think the reaction of most sane people when they hear Laney's own personal Little Mermaid story is more like 'give me a break'."
"The light is green," Shelby replied pointedly. "You're holding up traffic."
The car behind them impatiently sounded its horn and Garrett turned his eyes back to the road.
Shelby's attention drifted to last night's dinner party with Garrett and her family. Beautiful Laney had been exuding her special brand of charm as she attempted to captivate Garrett McGrath. Garrett, however, had not been captivated. He'd treated her sister with the same friendly politeness he displayed to their mother, but directed his interest and attention to Shelby and her father, peppering the conversation with questions about Halford House and other high-end resorts, listening to their replies, seemingly filing information away in his mind for future reference.
Despite Laney's attempts to direct it otherwise, the conversation had revolved on the hotel business and rarely wavered from that course. Laney had finally cajoled Paul into taking her dancing at the resort's nightclub. Shelby had cringed when her parents jovially insisted that she and Garrett go dancing, too.
But before she'd had a chance to refuse in no uncertain terms, Garrett did it first, claiming he wanted an early night because he and Shelby were leaving in the morning for this trip to Key West.
There had been no getting out of it for her. As Garrett had said, her father had coerced her, making it clear that she was shirking her responsibilities to Halford House if she didn't accompany Mr. McGrath. And everybody knew what happened to employees whom Art Halford considered derelict in the line of duty. Shelby wasn't one to kid herself; she might be Arthur Halford's daughter, but he would deal no differently with her than any other employee who'd incurred his wrath.
And since she had been forced along on this so-called business trip, she intended to treat it as exactly that, making it obvious by her attire and her attitude that her presence meant strictly business. If Garrett McGrath thought he could lure her into another splendor-in-the-sea interlude…
Shelby felt her face grow pink as a renegade memory of herself in Garrett's arms flashed to mind. She immediately halted the direction her thoughts had taken and steered them along another, less disturbing track.
The sun continued to glare unrelentingly through the tinted windows, which were a paltry defense against the scorching rays. Reluctantly, but unable to bear it anymore, Shelby removed her suit jacket and laid it across the miniscule back seat.
"Hot enough for you?" Garrett grinned.
Her lips tightened. "I was waiting for your 'I told you so.' You didn't disappoint."
"I hope I never disappoint you, Shelby," he said, the usual note of teasing mockery absent from his voice. He directed the air-conditioning vents toward her and increased the flow of cold air to maximum capacity. "Better?" he asked.
Shelby nodded, caught off guard by his helpfulness. The man was unpredictable, an enigma. A fascinating and perceptive one. She tried to keep from glancing at him, and when she did, she tried to keep those covert glances from lingering. It was getting harder and harder to do both.
They drove along the Overseas Highway, which connected the mainland with the string of islands known as the Florida Keys. As usual, the traffic was heavy with tractor-trailers, cars towing boats, RVs plus innumerable cars filled with tourists. Shelby had made the drive many times before, but this was Garrett's first trip on the highway that boasted forty-two bridges as it crossed the Keys and skimmed across the sea, the Atlantic Ocean on one side of it, the Gulf of Mexico on the other.
"As you might expect, I'm a big fan of billboards and fast-food stands and motels and strip malls," Garrett remarked after driving past all of them, "but I'd love to get off the highway and see something of the Keys. Hey, look at that sign for the International Fishing Museum. It says they'll help find a charter boat for deep-sea or back-country fishing. Let's do it!"
"This is a business trip," Shelby reminded him. "I'm certainly not dressed for a fishing expedition." She smoothed her skirt with her palms and gingerly eased her feet out of her pumps, which were beginning to pinch. "I've been to the museum, though. They have a large collection of antique fishing tackles that I found rather interesting."
"I'm more interested in fishing than looking at tackles, antique or not."
"I'd rather look at the tackles than charter a boat for the express purpose of luring innocent fish to their deaths."
Garrett groaned. "You're not one of those fanatics who won't eat something with a face, are you? Come to think of it, all you ate last night for dinner was a bowl of clam chowder, spinach salad and bread."
"None of which has a face," she observed. He looked so appalled that this time Shelby couldn't suppress the laughter bubbling up inside her. "No, I'm not overly zealous about what I won't eat, but I don't care to see my food in the transitional stages. You know, between life and death."
"You prefer it packaged and unrecognizable."
"Precisely."
"I guess this means you won't be joining me on my annual fall hunting trip?"
"How true."
"Say, what do you do for fun, anyway? We've already established that you don't hunt or fish or swim in the ocean in your clothes. Your runs on the beach are part of your serious exercise regime and not done for pleasure. So what about your leisure time? Do you ever just kick back and relax?"
Shelby shifted uneasily. "I'm not very good at relaxing," she admitted reluctantly. "Oh, I enjoy reading and the occasional television show—"
"Only public television, of course. You probably don't approve of network or cable fare."
"You make me sound like a stuffy old maid." Shelby grimaced. "Like that awful old crone pictured in the card game! Well, I suppose my life does seem awfully boring to someone like you." Her face was burning—and not from the sun's glare.
"I'm not exactly a fast-living, high-roller, party animal, either," Garrett confessed. "Most of my time is devoted to business. Building the company, keeping it
growing and successful hasn't left a whole lot of time for a wild social life. And in my spare time, I prefer being outdoors to reading or television. Even public television." His blue eyes gleamed.
She felt ridiculously relieved that he wasn't a fixture on the party circuit. "I really prefer working to anything else," she confided. "At the Casa del Marina, I was on duty more than I was off and I liked it that way."
"You must be going crazy at Halford House," Garrett remarked. "From what I've gathered, your father hasn't given you much to do since your return."
His perception rankled but she couldn't deny it. "No, my father hasn't found a place for me yet." It was a painful admission for her to make. "But I expect that to change," she added, lifting her chin, proudly defiant.
"And if it doesn't? Suppose your father decides to sell Halford House when he retires? What will you do then?"
"I don't believe in worrying about something that will never happen," Shelby said confidently. "Halford House has been in the family for three generations and it'll stay in the family for many more."
Garrett thought of Arthur Halford's willingness to sell Halford House, his eagerness to finalize the deal. He'd disposed of the Halford heritage without a thought, until his elder daughter's inconvenient arrival back on the scene. Even then, Halford hadn't reconsidered the sale, not for a moment. His only concern was to keep Shelby in the dark until a more convenient time presented itself for breaking the news. And then the old man had even abdicated on that, passing the unpleasant task on to the new owner himself.
It wasn't going to be easy, Garrett admitted with an inward groan. The more time he spent with Shelby, the more he realized how very difficult it would be to tell her that her father had sold out the family business without giving a thought to her own plans and dreams of running the place. And when she learned that Garrett McGrath of Family Fun Inns had bought the place…
His fingers tightened on the wheel. His interest in Shelby had begun as a lark, a bit of spontaneous curiosity, but it was rapidly developing into something else entirely. Something complicated and involved. And while he thrived on complicated and involved challenges in business, he carefully avoided such traps in his personal life.
Until now. He should have known he was in trouble the moment Shelby had burst into Art Halford's office, Garrett acknowledged. He'd felt something deep inside him respond to her on sight. And he finally admitted to himself that if he hadn't felt that almost primal attraction to her, he would've refused to go along with Halford's plan to deceive his daughter. He would have played it the usual Garrett McGrath way—blunt, open and forceful—and told her the truth then and there.
Garrett rarely felt the need to confide in others but he made it a point to be honest with himself. He wanted Shelby Halford. He wanted her soft and warm and laughing as she'd been in the ocean yesterday. He wanted her hungry and responsive, clinging to him in passion. He even wanted her, taut and edgy, in her staid business suit, prim hairdo and orthopedic panty hose. She intrigued him. She was intelligent and driven, witty and sensual when she wanted to be. When he inspired her to be.
In the seat beside him, Shelby was fighting a losing battle to keep her eyes trained to the window and the passing sights outside. Her gaze kept straying to Garrett, sliding over the dark thickness of his hair, his strong implacable profile. And then lower. To his hard-muscled arms and his big hands capably gripping the steering wheel. She swallowed, her mouth suddenly quite dry.
"You're awfully quiet all of a sudden," Shelby said nervously.
"So are you."
She actually blushed. Had he noticed that she'd been staring at him again? On the other hand, if he'd caught her looking at him, that meant he had been looking at her, too. She recognized the embers of sexual excitement flaring within her for exactly what they were.
And tried hard to tamp them with a stern, no-nonsense lecture to herself about the folly of developing a schoolgirl crush on Garrett McGrath. She was no longer a schoolgirl and Garrett was a man with his own agenda. He was a man who always seemed to get what he wanted—such as all those Family Fun Inns in places where others had worked to keep them out. Their efforts had been futile and Garrett McGrath had always prevailed.
Shelby remembered their brief ocean idyll yesterday. Somehow she'd ended up frolicking fully dressed in the water with him—she who'd never frolicked anywhere in her entire life! And then he had grabbed her and kissed her and she had responded with every fiber of her being.
Heat shimmered through her. Yes, Garrett McGrath got whatever he wanted. He was a dangerous man and she would do well to remember it. And to keep both her eyes and her thoughts away from him.
They drove across the Seven Mile Bridge leading to the Lower Keys and, finally, to the southernmost island of Key West. Garrett tossed Shelby a city map and she directed him to the Family Fun Inn, which he'd circled in ink.
"It's near Dog Beach," she remarked. "That's the only beach in Key West where dogs are allowed. Did you choose the location for that reason? Do most of your patrons travel with their pets?"
"A number of our inns have kennel facilities. Hmm, do you think Halford House should provide canine and feline accommodations? The rich and famous are as devoted to their pets as anybody else."
"Why don't you try it out at the Blue Springs?" Shelby suggested sweetly. "Install kennels there. We at Halford House will be eagerly awaiting the test results."
Garrett frowned. Shelby believed he was buying the Blue Springs Resort. He'd momentarily forgotten that piece of fiction. He debated telling her here and now that he was not buying the Blue Springs at all, but rather, that the McGraths' venture into the high-end market of the hotel business comprised the purchase of Halford House.
He pulled the car into a parking space in front of Key West's Family Fun Inn and turned to Shelby. She'd put her jacket and shoes back on and was dabbing powder on her nose. She looked tense and uptight, uncomfortable and hot. Definitely unreachable. It stood to reason that while in such a mood she would not be very receptive to the news about the sale of Halford House. In fact, she might be quite unreasonable about it—and even less understanding about the deception surrounding it.
Garrett made up his mind. He wouldn't tell her. Not yet. She would have to find out eventually, of course, but not until the time was right. And he would know when and where that would be. One thing was certain. It wasn't now.
"Well, this is it," he announced as they climbed out of the car and stood in front of the motel. "Welcome to the Family Fun Inn."
Shelby stared at the white wood and concrete block structure with its row of rooms on the upper and lower levels. The door to each room was painted a different color and there didn't seem to be a single shade they'd missed. Shelby blinked at the brilliant purples and pinks and oranges and limes. The primary colors were well represented, too, with bright yellows, blues and reds.
For a few minutes she was silent, rather awed by the vivid sight. As much as she'd heard about Family Fun Inns, she had never actually seen one with her own eyes.
She tried to imagine the reaction of the owners of the understated, elegant Blue Springs Resort when the painters had finished with the new, unwanted Family Fun Inn that had sprung up next door to it. It was a sure bet they hadn't been pleased.
Garrett watched her expectantly. He seemed to be waiting for her to make some comment. "It looks like a giant crayon box," she said at last.
"That's exactly the effect we wanted." He nodded his approval. "Kids love colors and we've found from our market research that they have very particular ideas concerning the different colored doors. Some children are attached to one certain color, and at every Family Fun Inn they want a room with that same favorite colored door. Other kids like to collect different colors. They want to stay behind a different colored door every time they come. So we ask our guests for their door color preference when they make reservations or check in."
"It sounds scarily like your penchant for selecting rental c
ars. Collecting rides in different rental cars is bizarre enough, but collecting stays behind different colored doors is even stranger. Who cares if the room you're staying in has a turquoise door or an orchid door or a chartreuse door?" She did not add that all were equally garish, but the thought crossed her mind.
"Kids care. And on a family trip, their parents are willing to indulge them. It's a gimmick that has ensured us so much repeat business that other chains have stopped laughing, checked their occupancy rates and ours, and are trying to come up with something similar."
Shelby gazed at the dazzling array of colors lined up before her. "We can only hope they never will," she murmured under her breath.
Garrett identified himself to Tony Fontana, the motel manager, who seemed genuinely thrilled to meet the big boss at last.
"Your sister Fiona and her husband and their children were down last year, and I've also met Grace and Jeff, and, of course, Eilish," the manager exclaimed effusively. "Will you be staying here at the motel tonight, Mr. McGrath?"
Fontana slanted a discreet glance at Shelby, though not so discreet that she didn't see it and interpret it. He thought she was the big boss's bimbo!
* * *
Chapter 5
« ^ »
"No, we will not be spending the night," Shelby replied at once. "This is a business trip," she felt compelled to add. How many times had she said that today? It had practically become her rallying cry. She glared at Tony Fontana. Weren't her professional demeanor and her attire unmistakable clues that she was Garrett's colleague and not his bedmate du jour? It wasn't as if she'd shown up in a halter top and spandex miniskirt, dripping with costume jewelry and a wad of pink bubble gum in her mouth.
"How many vacancies do you have tonight, Tony?" Garrett asked smoothly, breeching the sudden awkward silence that had fallen.
"We have just one room available tonight, sir, but—"
"You're at full occupancy except for one room?" Shelby interjected incredulously. Astonishment overrode her annoyance as she considered the sizable vacancy at Halford House. Was Tony Fontana padding the occupancy rate to impress the boss? It was the off-season, after all.
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