Knight in Cowboy Boots: International Billionaires X: The Latinos

by Caro LaFever

  A murmur of agreement rippled through the audience and Nick relaxed, which surprised him. He hadn’t realized how tense he’d become since arriving here and surveying the damage. Even his charm and resolve would have been challenged by this amount of chaos. Yet Jessie had marched right into the hotel, past the flock of complaining guests, the firemen collecting their equipment, and assorted angry staff, right into the heart of the problem.

  “Thank you.” She straightened, brushing her hands down the slacks and button-down shirt she wore. He’d come to expect the simplicity of her clothes, though he still didn’t like them. There was something about the way she wore them that reminded him of a baby duckling suiting up for another rejection.

  She’d loved that red dress he’d chosen for her. She had. He knew it. So why didn’t any of her other clothes blaze with the defiance and flame he knew was an integral part of her?

  “I appreciate all the work you’ve already done in this crisis,” she continued, patting the back of one of the sous chefs. “But if you could please go to your stations and start your reports that would be fantastic.”

  The crew gradually moved toward the open doors leading into the hallway.

  “Ms. McDowell.” A distressed, disheveled man wearing the McDowell black-and-gold livery

  he’d noticed every concierge wore, rushed into the kitchen. “We’ve got problems.”

  His cowgirl didn’t even blink. “What is it, Sam?”

  “I’ve managed to secure rooms for most of the hotel guests.” The man waved a frantic hand toward the lobby. “Except there is one group that refuses to go if I can’t find them the same luxurious suites they’ve booked here.”

  “Jessica, Jessica!” A young woman wearing a harassed look and a too-tight skirt signaled from the other entryway into the restaurant. “The deputy chief is here to talk about code violations.”

  That brought a frown of intense concern to her face. “I need to get the rest of the guests—”

  “Jessie.” This time Nick did step in, because he understood her dilemma. Getting guests out of this place was of primary importance. However, talking to the fire chief and, hopefully, diminishing any possible violation citations was the priority.

  Her frowning face swung to him, and for a moment, her wide mouth relaxed into a half-smile. “What?”

  Walking through the shuffling, disappearing crowd, he came to her side. What he wanted to do was take her hand in his and squeeze. But that might lessen the respect she’d already gained with her staff and he wasn’t willing to risk it. “Let me handle the remaining guests.”

  Up close, he could detect the tension in her even more. The light sprinkle of freckles was stark on the white of her skin. Those mixed eyes of hers were muddy-brown with worry. He wanted to take her into his arms and dance her away from this, yet he knew the McDowell spirit would flame to life and yell. Plus, she needed to prove something. Not only to the staff, but to herself and her father.

  “I don’t know.” Her hands fisted at her side. “Guests are important, and if I had to guess, I know who the group is.”

  “Really?” Surprise coursed through him. The McDowells owned fifty-four hotels around the world. How could she possibly know who these truculent guests were?

  “Yes, really.” She glanced at him before looking back at the agitated concierge waiting for her. “My bet is they are Mr. and Mrs. Jackson and their family. They always attend the Horse and Stock Show at the Cow Palace in October.”

  The Cow Palace. Jesús. He hadn’t thought about that place in years.

  “Since this weekend is the last show and the Jacksons are incredibly demanding, it’s got to be them.”

  He grinned. “Ah. Jessie?”

  “Yeah?” Her face scrunched in obvious anxiety.

  “Bets? Demands?” he murmured under his breath so only she could hear. “Aren’t these my calling cards?”

  “What?” Her anxiety melted into confusion.

  “Cowboy boots. Country music. Two-step.” His grin grew wider. “I think I can use that drawl of mine to settle the Jacksons down just fine.”

  She gave him her side-eye.

  His grin didn’t falter. “Come on. I’ve got my charm, too. Let me take care of this issue, and you can take of the fire chief.”

  “This is my problem.” Her hands twisted into a knot in front of her. “This is something I should do.”

  Finally, he couldn’t not touch. His fingers laced through her reluctant ones. “You are doing it, Ginger Snap. It’s okay to have some help, though.”

  “I don’t know—”

  “Look at it like we’re partners.” When he said the last word, it shot through him—a well-aimed bullet—but he brushed the feeling aside. “You’re going to be much better at soothing a grumpy deputy chief with your knowledge of the hotel.”

  “True.” Her mouth curled into a reluctant smile.

  “And I am going to be as good as you at finding accommodations for would-be cowboys and cowgirls while all the time making them think it was their idea.”

  He let his eyes twinkle at the claim and, just as he hoped, she chuckled. “All right, cowboy. Go do your thing.”

  “And you do yours.” With one last teasing flick of his finger on her palm, he let her go. “Then, once we’re both done putting out our respective fires, I’ll feed you.”

  Glancing around at the fire-damaged kitchen, her chuckle went to a laugh. “Oh, God. That’s the last thing I want to think about.”

  “Jessica.” The woman with the tight skirt waved at her with impatience. “The fire chief won’t wait forever.”

  Marching away from him, her usual bun of hair sliding sideways on her head and a black blotch of soot running down the side of her white shirt, she looked to him like a conquering heroine riding to the rescue.

  “Jessie,” he called, a bright blaze of heat for her body and admiration for her spirit made him choke out her name.

  She stopped and turned to him, confusion and unease warring on her face. “Yes?”

  “You and I.” He pointed at her and then at himself.

  “Huh?”

  “Partners.” The word rolled off his tongue, still biting into him a like a bullet and yet, feeling right at the same time.

  Her eyes widened.

  “Together.” He hoped. He prayed. “We can handle anything.”

  Before she could respond with a frown of rejection at his outlandish claim, or a shake of her head at his outrageous bid, Nick walked away.

  She was dead tired.

  But she’d done it. She’d taken charge and fixed the mess. The staff reports were in. The deputy chief wasn’t going to file any citations. There was a plan in place for tomorrow when the clean-up would begin. And she’d successfully assured her grumbling father that this particular McDowell hotel would come back better than ever.

  She’d done it.

  Jess absently scratched her itchy head and stared blankly at the destruction of the kitchen once more. Now that the chaos had dissipated, her brain didn’t seem able to conjure one coherent thought.

  “Together.” Nick’s lightly accented voice came from behind her. “We can do anything.”

  The shock of his claim hours earlier—partners, you and I—flew back into the center of her confused and exhausted brain. What she needed was a bath and a bed. Not a man intent on his purpose. A purpose she still hadn’t dug out of him or her father. “I’m tired and dirty.”

  “Yeah.” He whispered to her side and slid a warm hand around her waist before she could decide what she wanted from him, if anything. “I’ve got that all handled.”

  “We can’t stay here,” she blurted. “The deputy fire chief told me no one can.”

  “I know.” His fingers tightened on her. “I’ve made arrangements.”

  Her fuzzy brain tried to make sense of what he said, but it was too fogged to go very far. “Arrangements.”

  Hauling her with him, he pulled her from the kitchen, down the hall, a
nd into the main lobby. The only people remaining in the hotel were the security staff. One lone man patrolled the front door.

  “I’m surprised your guard dog didn’t come with us.” Nick’s wry tone penetrated the fog for a moment.

  She smirked. “I don’t think he was invited.”

  “True.” Nick nodded at the patrolman before pushing open the glass door, guiding her into the lights and sounds of San Francisco. “I’m not likely to invite a guy on my plane who would cheerfully cut my throat and throw me out into the sky.”

  His humor was foolish and silly, yet it hit her tired funny bone and she laughed.

  “That’s better.” Tugging her around, he encircled her with his arms. His gaze caught hers and he gave her a tender smile instead of his usual cocky one. “I like that sound.”

  A tingle of warm excitement managed to break free of her exhaustion, and she threw him a bold glance. “Do you?”

  “I didn’t hear much of it during the last few hours.” His hands smoothed across her dirty clothes, as if he couldn’t care less about the dirt.

  Jess wasn’t obsessed with her clothes as she had been at one time, still, she did try and appear clean and crisp. She was far from that at this point.

  “I’m a mess,” she muttered, trying to pull from his grasp.

  “So am I,” he said, pulling her right back in. “But we’re going to take care of that.”

  She supposed he’d gone ahead and booked them rooms in the same hotel he’d managed to coax the Jacksons into. “The Ritz?”

  “Naw.” Turning, he started down the street, with her trailing behind.

  “The Four Seasons?”

  “Naw.”

  Jessie frowned, and for the first time, she realized the limo they’d driven in from the airport wasn’t sliding to the curb. They’d walked beyond the hotel’s front door and were heading for Valencia Street. Perhaps the three hundred McDowell guests that had to be transferred had taken all of the available luxury rooms. Not that she needed luxury at the moment. A bed and shower would do. “Motel Ten?”

  At the mention of one of the notorious dives in the city, he flashed her a grin. “No self-respecting McDowell or Townsend would be caught in a place like that.”

  “Correct.” Her confusion deepened as he pulled her onto a side street she knew had no hotels. “Where are we going, Nick?”

  “And there’s my determined Jessie.” He kept walking.

  If she weren’t so tired, she’d object again to his claim of her as his, but she really just wanted to sleep. Her stomach growled. Loud enough to be heard through the swish of the late-night traffic and the muted sounds coming from the line of Victorian row houses they were going past.

  Nick’s low laugh came and Jess couldn’t help the flush rising on her neck. The combination of her fatigue and her embarrassment made her temper flare. “I’m hungry, so what—”

  “I’ve got the food covered, too.”

  Her frown was replaced by a scowl. “I’m not fit to go to a restaurant, even if it’s a tacky diner.”

  “Neither am I,” he said, in the same cheerful tone.

  Just as she was about to dig in her heels, he came to a stop. Pulling out an old-fashioned key, he inspected the elegant house in front of them. “Here we are.”

  “Where is here?” She inspected the detached Victorian. Even in the darkness of the night, she could tell it was painted in a variety of bright colors and was fully restored. Yet no sign proclaimed this Painted Lady as a hotel or a B&B for weary travelers. “What is going on?”

  Chuckling at her disgruntled tone, he grabbed her hand and strode up the stairs toward the front door. “This is a friend’s house. I called him after I dispensed with the Jacksons and he said we could stay here.”

  “I’m not going to crash on your friend’s couch.” Irritation filled her. “That’s crazy.”

  He jerked to a stop and swung around. His expression went from cheerful and amused to grim in one flat second. Again, Jess faced the angry man who had shocked her in the desert.

  “I’m not crazy,” he bit out. “And I sure as hell wouldn’t arrange for you to sleep on a fucking couch.”

  She stumbled back, her breath caught in her throat. Again, this man, this man with a horrible temper, had appeared. It stunned her how quickly he could change. Only his firm grasp on her hand kept her from running back toward the McDowell hotel.

  “Todo se va a la mierda,” he swore in a low growl. Shaking his head, he swept a hand across his face. “Sorry.”

  “I’m going to return to the hotel. There’s got to be somewhere I can sleep.” She jerked her hand from his and scrambled down the steps toward the street.

  “Jessie. Wait. My friend is in East Asia on a business trip. There’s going to be no one here but us and the fire chief isn’t going to let you sleep at the hotel.” With one leap, he was by her side. “Listen.”

  “I’m too tired for drama. I don’t want to fight, and I can’t handle your temper at the moment.” She clenched her teeth at him and kept walking. “I’ll call for the limo and find my own hotel room.”

  Grabbing her arm, he pulled her to stop. “As I told you, I’ve got this covered. Give me a chance, here.”

  “I’ve given you far too many chances.” She threw the words at him, as she tried to tug herself out of his grasp.

  “I need one more.”

  His reluctant plea made her pause. She snorted at him, though, just to prove she wasn’t snowed over. “Why should I?”

  “Because you’ll love this place, I know you will,” he cajoled, something she was becoming used to. “There’s a nice soft bed.”

  She snorted again. “Let me guess. With you in it.”

  “No.” The one word was sincere and his eyes shone with the same sincerity. “There are two bedrooms in this house.”

  Glancing at the place once more, she had to admit to being curious to see the inside of a Painted Lady.

  Nick’s sharp gaze must have caught her interest because he smiled. His real smile. “There’s a big shower, too.”

  “With you—”

  His laugh cut her off. “I won’t be in there, either.”

  She eyed him.

  “Unless you want me to be.” His celestial-blue gaze turned from sincerity to sin.

  “No.”

  “Okay.” Shrugging, he began to pull her up the steps. “Your choice.”

  This man had a thousand secrets, but she didn’t think he was an out-and-out liar. So she had to assume there was a shower and a soft bed in this place. “Tell me there’s food.”

  “Yeah, there’s food.” His tight hold relaxed. “I had Chinese delivered.”

  Her stomach groaned its approval. All right. He’d won. She loved Chinese. “Tell me you ordered dim sum and I might forgive you for your temper.”

  With a swift move that took her by surprise, he yanked her into his arms on the last step. For a second, she felt as if they teetered, ready to tumble down to the street. But then he eased her, moving her into just the right spot in his embrace, and they steadied.

  “Jessie.”

  “What?” Glancing up, she met his penetrating gaze.

  “Don’t forgive me for anything, okay?” His hands brushed along her spine, pulling her closer. “Ever.”

  Chapter 16

  Jess peered into the red-and-white take-out box.

  She’d eaten every bit of the Kung Pao chicken. Actually, she’d inhaled the Kung Pao chicken.

  “Still hungry?” Nick lounged on the other tall kitchen stool, his chopsticks digging around in one of the other half-dozen boxes.

  “God, no.” Groaning, she plunked the empty carton on the counter. “It’s time for me to go to bed.”

  By the time he’d lured her into this home, she was ready to admit defeat and just fall into a bed. But once she’d stepped into the quaint, white-washed living room, and spotted the antique glass chandelier and the ornately carved fireplace, she couldn’t stop looking. Into th
e dainty kitchen with its white walls and blue trim. Over to the bay window with a comfy sofa wedged into its nook. Up, up, up the Persian-carpeted stairs to explore the master bedroom with its canopy bed and its decadent bath with a real clawfoot tub. Across the hallway to the modern office tucked neatly above the view of a darkened garden. Up the stairs again, to where Nick said she’d find her very own shower and bed.

  For a second, when she’d stared at the king-size bed in the master chamber, she’d wondered about him. And her. Together. She’d wondered how she was going to say no and keep this room to herself.

  “This isn’t yours,” he’d announced from behind her, smugness in his voice. “That bed is mine.”

  Twirling to face him, she arched her brow. “Putting me in the servants’ quarters, are you?”

  “I am.” He twirled, too. Not his body though, but his fingers twisting his fake mustache. “Unless, my lovely, you wanted to join me?”

  His lush brows rose and dropped making her laugh. With relief and yet, with a sliver of regret. “I don’t think so.”

  “I could tell you not to think.” Another twist and another raise of his brows.

  She laughed again and waved to the stairs. “I’m up there, aren’t I?”

  “Your own tower, my lovely. Especially designed for you.”

  Chuckling, she’d headed past him and marched up into the old attic. An attic that had been turned into an innocent girl’s dream.

  “Oh, my,” she whispered.

  The lines of the house’s roof gave a unique contour to the room. White beams arched overhead, combining at the peak of the house in a star pattern. Glass doors led out into the darkness, though she assumed there was some kind of terrace that would have a spectacular view of the bay. Another king-size bed sat by the far wall, this time a maple sleigh. Above it swung another splendid antique chandelier. The colors of the bedding were a soft cream and gray, making her think of misty mornings and quiet starlit nights.

  “My friend didn’t change this room when he bought the place,” Nick said from behind her. “He thought it perfect as it was.”

  “Yes, absolutely.” Her hand slipped along the wainscoting, loving the fine texture of the wood. “I wouldn’t have changed a thing, either.”