"I remember looking at my watch and having trouble focusing on the numbers glowing in the dark. It was almost four o'clock. After that, it's oblivion."
"I was all ready for another round of 'Name That Tune,' but you sort of keeled over and went to sleep," said Shelby. "Just like a man," she added with a wicked superior grin.
"What an unforgivable breach of etiquette! I promise that the next night you spend in bed with me, I won't roll over and go to sleep until you're fully satisfied."
"Promises, promises," she joked.
She was pleased that they'd easily resumed the camaraderie they had developed during last night's stormy siege. She even enjoyed his suggestive teasing in a way she'd previously been unable to, before they'd logged so many hours together.
Garrett swung his legs over the side of the bed and groaned. "I'd kill for a long, hot shower, a razor and a toothbrush and a change of clothes."
"Wait until you see the bathroom in the light. There's mold that looks like it dates back to prehistoric times," Shelby warned, walking into the bathroom to look around. "This shower could qualify as a scientific experiment."
"Then maybe we should forgo that dubious pleasure and head straight back to Port Key. Do you feel up to resuming our journey?"
Shelby caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the sink and grimaced. Her hair hung loose and straight around her shoulders and her bangs were askew. Her clothes, cheap and wrinkled, looked as if she'd slept in them, which of course, she had. "I could be the poster girl for grunge. Are you sure you want to be seen traveling with me?"
Garrett came to stand behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He nuzzled her hair away and kissed the soft, slender column of her neck. "You look pretty damn good to me," he said huskily.
His nearness, his smoldering sexuality hit her with the force of a sledgehammer. She was suddenly breathless and had to fight the urge to lean back into him, to rest her head in the hollow of his shoulder. He trailed a path of tiny stinging kisses along her neck while his fingers kneaded the soft swell of her belly.
He met her eyes in the mirror. "If I had to be stuck in the Seagull Motel for a night, there's nobody I'd have rather been with than you."
"I think that's what is called a backhanded compliment." Shelby laughed shakily. Her knees felt rubbery. She could feel the heat of his hard body burning through her, could feel the strength of him in the big warm hands that were lightly caressing her. His arousal throbbed potently against her, an unmistakable reminder of his virility. And of his desire … for her. Shelby trembled.
"Not backhand at all." Garrett turned her carefully in his arms to face him, molding her against him, stroking her closer until she melted into him. Then his mouth touched hers gently, brushing her lips with his, back and forth, in a slow, seductive rhythm.
Shelby held her breath, desire twisting sharply through her. The sensual effects evoked by his caresses were strong and instant. Her breasts tingled and ached as her nipples tightened, and a sweet, hot tension gripped her loins.
"Next time we spend a night together, we won't pass the time playing singing games and shooting pieces of candy into the trash can. Not that I didn't have a great time with you last night." His mouth was touching hers as he spoke, and she shivered with sensual arousal. "I have a great time with you no matter where we are or what we're doing."
His words sent a flood of warmth surging through her. It was the first time she'd ever heard such a sentiment expressed to her or about her. Shelby was well aware that spending time with her didn't exactly qualify as anybody's idea of fun. From the time she'd been a very little girl, she had known that Laney was the child of choice; the prickly, defensive shell she'd built around herself didn't inspire others to look to her for fun, laughs, and good times, either. Yet here was Garrett McGrath telling her that he liked being with her.
"No matter how awful the setting or trying the circumstances?" she queried lightly.
"It doesn't get much worse than a night without electricity in the Seagull Motel and I'd do it again tonight if you'd be here with me."
He cupped her face with one hand, gently caressing the soft skin of her cheek with his fingertips, his thumb tracing the fine line of her jaw. He used his other hand to settle her intimately against him.
Shelby felt the hard bulge of his sex pressing insistently against her own yielding softness and a fiery ache burned and throbbed within her, spreading from that one erotic point of contact to every nerve and muscle of her body. She gazed helplessly into his eyes, drowning in their passionate blue depths, until she could no longer hold open her lids. They snapped shut as her mind seemed to short-circuit, sending her spinning into a world of pure sensation.
Garrett took her mouth again, this time with urgent and insistent demand. Eagerly, she parted her lips to the probing caress of his tongue and met it with her own.
The kiss was hot and deep, the sheer carnality of it staggering and addictive. Neither could bear to pull away, not even to breathe; so the kiss went on and on and on. When they were finally forced to break apart by sheer necessity, both were gulping for air. They stared at each other with glazed eyes, both breathing heavily.
For the first time in living memory, Garrett found himself at a loss for words. There was no easy quip that sprang quickly to his lips, no casual one-liner to lighten the atmosphere and put the kiss into perspective. Not that he knew what that perspective might be. The truth was, he'd never been so deeply and wildly affected by a kiss. Even their temperature-raising first kiss, which they'd shared in the ocean, hadn't packed the emotional wallop of this one.
He knew why, of course. It was because his emotions were involved, because the chemistry between them had been supplemented by the feelings he'd developed for her after their many hours together. He liked her, he enjoyed her company, even when she was sniping at him and challenging him. The McGraths didn't take to fawning sycophants, and the women he usually met who submissively pandered to his ego tended to bore him. No one could ever accuse Shelby Halford of pandering.
Garrett's lips curved into a smile. He couldn't imagine her boring him, either. Maddening him, perhaps, but that was all right. He'd lived his life among the maddening McGraths. He was one himself and proud of it.
Shelby stared at him, saw the secret smile twist his mouth and light his eyes. Her first reaction was to bristle in defense. All her old insecurities screamed that he was laughing at her, that she was the brunt of his own private joke. But before she dissolved into hurt and lashed out at him, a kinder, gentler, more optimistic point of view prevailed. One nurtured by what he'd told her earlier.
I have a great time with you no matter where we are or what we're doing… It doesn't get much worse than a night without electricity in the Seagull Motel and I'd do it again tonight if you'd be here with me.
His words echoed in her head. He'd said them and then kissed her with a hungry, ardent passion that she had never before experienced. Buoyed by that knowledge, Shelby allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—his smile was one of gladness, not derision. That maybe he felt the same excitement and anticipation that was joyously coursing through her. It was certainly powerful enough to make anyone smile.
* * *
They stopped at the first fast-food restaurant they saw, ordering from the drive-through window because neither cared to go inside. After the food was handed to them, Garrett pulled the little car into a parking space in the lot, where they ate their breakfast.
"This is the first time I've ever eaten one of these," Shelby remarked, taking a bite of a biscuit stuffed with an egg, sausage and cheese. "I normally have a piece of fruit, a bowl of hot cereal, and a cup of coffee for breakfast."
"You eat the same thing every day?"
"Well, the fruit is whatever happens to be in season, and I alternate between oatmeal and Cream of Wheat." She glanced over at him. He was unshaven and sweaty and wrinkled, but looked incredibly sexy in a disreputable sort of way. She remembered
lying in bed next to him, waking up and staring at him as he slept.
A flame of sensual fire licked through her and she had to stop and think hard to regain her train of thought. They'd been talking about breakfast and her boring habit of never deviating from her fixed menu. She made a valiant attempt to continue the conversation. "I guess you vary your breakfasts the way you vary your rental cars and stay in rooms with different-colored doors."
"Variety is the spice of life," he affirmed. "Have you ever considered going nuts, throwing caution to the wind and having a bowl of cornflakes instead of the requisite hot cereal? Or being a complete rebel and opting for a Danish? Too crazy for you, huh?"
Shelby swallowed a bite of hash brown potato, another breakfast first for her. "Sometimes I think I may be a bit too regimented," she admitted slowly. "That I need to vary my routine a little."
"A lot," Garrett amended. "But you're off to a good start. And I intend to see to it that you continue."
"You do?"
"Mmm-hmm. I'm going to stick to you like gum on a shoe while I'm at Halford House. And every day is going to be different."
"And then you'll go back to Family Fun Inns' corporate headquarters in Buffalo and I'll take over running Halford House." She tried to keep her voice light and breezy but her spirits were drooping. She'd just stated the obvious and it hurt to hear it. Garrett's presence in her life was only temporary, a fact to keep in mind. Always.
But for the first time in her life, she understood how easy it would be to throw caution aside and simply get carried away by feelings, to stop thinking about tomorrow and live for the moment. To have a hot, no-strings affair with Garrett and damn the consequences…
Except the consequences would undoubtedly end up damning her. Suddenly edgy and skittish, Shelby quickly retreated into her self-protective shell, where she was safe and solitary and in control of foolish impulses. She had no intention of being left a poor heartbroken fool, crying the blues when Garrett McGrath headed out of town.
Shelby's mention of herself running Halford House sent a sharp pang of consternation through Garrett. Last night's isolation in the storm had provided a respite from his deception dilemma, but this morning's sunshine and subsequent return to Halford House offered no similar escape. Or solution to the problem. They were no closer to the truth; Shelby still thought he'd purchased the Blue Springs Resort and was hanging around Halford House to learn the high-end of the hotel business.
The idea struck him as more and more preposterous, especially after getting to know Arthur Halford. Shelby, of all people, should realize that her father did not have a generous bone in his body. Art would no sooner let a budget-motel executive bunk in at Halford House to learn the ropes than he would spend a night behind a fuchsia door at a Family Fun Inn. But then, Shelby didn't think her father would sell Halford House out from under her, either. She had seriously underestimated her father's cold-blooded, heartless quotient. When she learned the truth…
Garrett felt a mixture of sadness and concern for her. She would be crushed, but he vowed he would ease her pain. That is, if she let him. And that depended on how and when she learned the truth about the sale of Halford House and its buyer.
They were both quiet for the remainder of the drive to Port Key, preoccupied with their own thoughts and fighting the mounting fatigue resulting from their lack of sleep last night at the Seagull.
When they arrived back at the Halford House complex, Garrett dropped Shelby off at her parents' house, a small but comfortable ranch-style home on the perimeter of the grounds. She'd grown up there and upon her return from California had been ensconced back in her old bedroom, which had been stripped of all her old memorabilia and redecorated in the style of a Halford House guest room, in Halford green and ivory. Though she would have preferred one of the tiny bungalows set aside for upper management or even one of the staff rooms in the hotel annex, her parents had been insistent. She must stay in the family home. End of discussion.
Shelby had the car door open before Garrett braked to a full stop, and she hopped out the second he did. "Goodbye," she called over her shoulder, half running up the walk of inlaid stone.
Garrett recognized an escape when he saw one. He leaned out of the car and stood up, towering over the tiny red roof, to shout after her, "I'll see you later."
Her heart lurched. "No, I'm going to be very busy," she called back. She wasn't going to meekly acquiesce as he launched the fling that would break her heart. "I don't have time to see you."
Shelby fumbled with her key in the lock, willing the door to open immediately, just in case Garrett decided to follow her into the house. When he drove away toward cottage 101 instead, she told herself she was glad.
And knew she was lying. What she really was, was a seething mass of ambivalence, disappointed yet relieved that Garrett hadn't chased her into her home. Well, why should he? He thought he had plenty of time to woo her into his bed. He'd already tipped his hand earlier with his "I'm going to stick to you like gum on a shoe while I'm at Halford House" remark.
Ugh, gum on a shoe, she scorned. How disgusting and antiromantic! However, the operative phrase, the one that had set off her every defense, was the insouciant "while I'm at Halford House."
Tears of fury and exhaustion filled her eyes. So Garrett intended to have an affair with her for the duration of his visit and then fly north, leaving her behind without a second thought? Her temper flared. "Like hell he will!" she said aloud.
"Oh, you're back." Laney's appearance in the bright, airy foyer did nothing to improve Shelby's ever-worsening mood. As usual, Laney was impeccably dressed and made-up, her lustrous dark hair shiny, clean and perfectly coiffed. When she got a good look at bedraggled, Seagull-worn Shelby, her gorgeous eyes widened with horror. "What in the world happened to you?"
"We got stranded in the storm and had to spend the night in a dumpy motel in the Lower Keys." Shelby self-consciously tried to smooth her hair, then gave it up as hopeless. She knew she must look like something that had crawled out from under a rock.
Laney clearly thought so. She stared at her sister, appalled. "You and Garrett were stranded together in a motel?" she repeated incredulously.
"Nothing happened," Shelby was quick to reassure her. She cursed the ridiculous fiery blush that stained her cheeks.
"I should think not!" Laney laughed. "Not with you looking like that! And those clothes! They're worse than dreadful, Shelby. Where did you find them, in a trash container?"
Shelby wasn't up for explaining. An outfit from Julio's Gifts and Sundries probably equaled a Dumpster in Laney's mind, anyway. "It's a new look, called Dumpster chic. I take it you don't like it?"
Laney rolled her eyes. "May I give you some sisterly advice, Shelby? Take a shower and wash your hair, then burn those clothes. If you need something to wear, you can borrow something of mine. I seriously advise taking me up on my offer. Your own taste is—" She broke off, unable to come up with just the right derogatory term. "Well, I'm off to play tennis with Paul. Later, he's taking me to Miami Beach for dinner." She named an exclusive and very expensive restaurant there.
It occurred to Shelby that Paul, who had never even bought her a slice of pizza, was taking Laney to a place whose patrons' incomes and life-styles far exceeded his own. But then, Laney had a talent for inspiring men to treat her like the princess she fancied herself to be, even when they couldn't afford it.
Shelby tried to picture Laney's reaction to a night at the Seagull Motel and breakfast in a parking lot. Shelby gave up. It was too great a stretch for her imagination, anyway.
"Paul is a sweetie, and he's crazy about me. I hope you don't mind, Shel," Laney exclaimed breathlessly. "Paul and I didn't mean to fall in love and cut you out, but we were simply overwhelmed by our feelings. It was love at first sight for both of us." She shrugged and smiled artlessly.
"I don't feel at all slighted." Shelby's smile was equally artless. "Paul and I were co-workers and then friends, but we were neve
r in love." Was that a shadow of disappointment that crossed Laney's lovely face? How vexing for Laney to realize that she'd snagged merely her sister's friend not her lover, Shelby thought wryly.
"Anyway, I understand how it feels to have love strike like a lightning bolt." Shelby smiled with blinding sweetness. "It was that way for Garrett and me." With that, she sauntered down the hall to her own room, Laney's indignant gasp echoing in her ears.
Firing that volley was a measure of how exhausted she really was, Shelby decided, and conceded that a certain orneriness was involved, as well. Not to mention humor. Love strike like a lightning bolt? She almost laughed aloud at the hyperbole, but knew her sister hadn't found it funny. She'd deliberately incited Laney because from Laney's point of view, a man who fell for Shelby instead of her was committing an act of treason.
Shelby stripped and stepped gratefully under the hot, revitalizing spray of the shower. Love at first sight for her and Garrett! Ha! She really should be ashamed of herself for telling Laney such a whopper. But she felt no shame, not even a little. Instead, she felt a wistful longing that she quickly sought to suppress.
She did not wish that she and Garrett really had fallen in love at first sight. And she hadn't been struck by any love-tinged lightning bolts, either.
* * *
Garrett couldn't remember the last time he'd appreciated the simple joys of a hot shower as much as this one in the luxury bathroom of cottage 101. He was also enjoying the more luxurious pleasures as a guest—and owner—of Halford House. He padded into the living room wrapped in the thick, white, terry robe provided by the hotel, its crest embroidered on the front in Halford green thread.
The cottage was perfectly temperature controlled, dispelling the heat and humidity without resorting to the crypt-like frigidity that air-conditioning sometimes inflicted. He helped himself to some of the fresh fruit arranged in a bowl in the small kitchenette, then opened the refrigerator to find it stocked with everything from soda pop to fruit juice to imported beer to bottles of designer water. He was about to make his selection when a knock sounded at the front door.
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