She sighed. Maybe she’d look into rental cars. The worst-case scenario was a taxi ride back to the airport. She’d just have to fight the urge to skip the car rental counter for the plane ticketing agent. A car would make it easier for her to scout out the competition too.
Randa shook her head as she tried to imagine what the hotel would look like after the conversion. It wasn’t hard. She could see the same hotel in at least fifteen other cities. The idea that they would take something totally unique, a one-of-a-kind experience, and make it average was depressing. But if she dared suggest that the uniqueness of the hotel contributed to the high booking rates, her father would suggest she go shopping and leave the strategy to him.
This pool area was an excellent example. She calculated space, occupancy, and safety requirements. It was pretty perfect for this hotel size, even if it was shaped like a guitar. The headstock was a shallow pool that little kids would love. Three child-sized water guns lined the edge, perfect for loud screechy water fights and drenching innocent bystanders. The neck was a long stretch that slowly deepened into the body, where the clear blue water was deep enough to dive. It was a resort pool for a nice hotel. Safe, serviceable, and surrounded by the best foliage Hawaii had to offer. Landscaping and upkeep must cost a fortune. The fun guitar would become a safe and serviceable rectangle painted with lap lanes. The trees and flowers would be replaced with something less expensive and easier to maintain.
The bright red lounge chairs could stay. They were very comfortable.
Exhausted by her unusual fit of conscience, Randa closed her eyes and rested her hands on her abdomen. She’d try a nap and then see what she could get from Laura.
She hadn’t slept well. First she’d had a nightmare about a homeless Misty who wandered the busy Memphis streets because her hotel was gone. And then when she’d started awake to see that it was only midnight, she’d fought the urge to sneak out to the lobby to make sure Misty was safe and sound. Telling herself it was crazy to worry about a dog that wasn’t even hers, she forced herself to stretch out and think of something else.
After she’d finished the hardcover she’d carried on the plane, she put it and her drugstore reading glasses on the nightstand. Still too restless to sleep, she had plenty of time left to think about Misty. And Tony. Misty would never be homeless. Willodean would take her… somewhere. And Tony would land on his feet in another job. Of course he would. Unless he was related to Willodean Jackson somehow. Maybe he was manager here because he couldn’t get a job anywhere else. Maybe he was on parole and lucky to have family to call on, a situation that she was just about to put an end to, possibly plunging him into despair and God knew what else and dooming him to roaming the streets instead of Misty.
She’d slapped her own forehead then and she repeated it now by the pool. She really shouldn’t read in bed. Clearly it made her imagination run wild. He was a grown man. He’d find another job.
Randa was the one with a potentially bigger problem. Her runaway brain would have her shooting herself in the acquisition foot if she didn’t watch it.
All because of a dog. Or a man she didn’t even know and had no business worrying over. She had plenty on her own plate to worry about.
“Was that an a-ha moment or a mosquito?”
Randa took a deep breath and opened her eyes to see Tony standing next to the lounger.
Then she forgot every worry she’d ever had and most of everything she knew.
Because if Tony lost his job running the Rock’n’Rolla Hotel, he had a future in underwear modeling. His swim trunks rode low on his hips and even though she’d seen swimsuits that showed a whole lot more of what a man was working with, she’d never seen another man with a body like his.
In her experience, handsome men were either gym rats or couch potatoes. She’d seen a lot of manscaping in her time too: hairless chests, spray tans, and even hair plugs once upon a time.
Out of the Hawaiian shirt and khakis, Tony was perfectly imperfect. His olive skin was lightly tan. Black ink swirled up his left arm. This close she could make out the words “Semper Fi” and then what looked like names, all in a simple script. She wanted to touch his tattoo, to trace her fingers up his arm. She wanted to feel his skin. Black curls covered his pecs and trickled to a thin line down his abdomen to disappear into…
God, help me. Randa felt the need to fan her face or stick her tongue out to pant. August in Memphis might camouflage her reaction, but she hadn’t known heat until Tony stood in front of her with no shirt on.
There was no doubt in Randa’s mind that women would buy whatever he was selling, as long as he did it shirtless.
And she wanted him. She wanted to cancel the scouting trip and drag him away somewhere. Anywhere with air conditioning and a lock on the door.
She’d never felt like this. It was uncomfortable, but at the same time she was happy to know she could. She’d spent so much time carefully evaluating every man she met against her father’s checklist of suitability that she’d never taken one look and fallen into very deep lust. Besides, expensive suits and perfectly tailored tuxedos had nothing on Tony in swim trunks.
Maybe he wasn’t classically handsome but there was something magnetic about him. His intensity was hard to resist. But right now, his ferocious frown was telling her she’d been stuck at Defcon One of animal attraction long enough to cause problems.
The other thing she knew? He’d asked her a question but she had no idea what it was. She couldn’t answer it anyway. Her tongue had lost all feeling.
TONY TOSSED HIS towel down on a lounge chair and dragged it over into the shade next to Randa. She hadn’t said a word in response to what he’d felt was a pretty good teasing opening. He was out of practice chatting up women, but common courtesy seemed a reasonable expectation.
Maybe Randa Whitmore didn’t understand common courtesy. Rich people probably didn’t have to use it as much as the rest of the world.
She just sat there, in her floppy straw hat, her dark sunglasses, and the cover-up that covered her up from neck to knees in filmy white gauze. Her lipstick was bright red and Tony loved it. It was like she was some kind of vintage Hollywood starlet, taking in the restorative waters while also waiting for her close-up.
He wanted to yank the hat off, toss the glasses in the pool, and run his fingers through the long length of blonde hair dangling over her shoulder to rest on her breast. He wanted to do that right before he covered her sexy red mouth with his. He could see it in his head, right up to the point that she shoved him in the deep end for pushing his luck.
He was battling a monumentally stupid attraction while she couldn’t be bothered to speak.
Maybe he wasn’t quite as ready to find a girl as he’d thought.
And he knew she was a long shot anyway. If he’d just asked Cat out to dinner, he’d be making progress. Nice, steady progress. Instead, he’d tried running before he could walk. And against his own better judgment and the plans he’d made just the day before.
It had been the same damn story his whole life. And that pissed him off. When things were going pretty good, something changed. Sometimes it was something good like his new job managing a hotel, but often enough it was bad news, like Randa probably would be. And until she showed up he’d been satisfied with everything he had. He could feel the frown on his face.
She should at least tell him to go to hell. He decided then that he was going to insist she say something.
He propped his hands on his hips and waited. Randa opened her mouth and then promptly closed it. He had the strangest idea that he should do everything he wanted. Get rid of the hat and the glasses and kiss her senseless. More senseless maybe. At the very least, she’d be forced to react then. If this was going to turn into a mess, he ought to grab everything he could right now.
Huffing with disgust at the dangerous sensations fighting for control, Tony walked to the deep end and dove in. He needed the break and the cold water. This was probably his last shot
at having the pool all to himself for a while. The Elvis Week crowds would take over, and this would be a busy place. If he stuck to the middle, he got some decent laps in from end to end. Over the weekend he’d be lucky to get a toe in without bumping someone else.
The feel of the cool water brushing over his skin, the heat of the sun, the rhythm of his breathing and the cadence of his hands slicing through the water calmed him. It was quiet. He loved swimming. Always had. Now it was his reward for a long night and a bruising pace on the treadmill. Every day he ran with everything he had or lifted weights in the hotel’s small gym and then he hit the pool.
He swam until he couldn’t put off getting out any longer. His fingers were prunes and he was gasping for breath when he hauled himself out of the water.
And he was resolved. He wasn’t going to speak to her again. He needed rest. He was so tired now he might get some.
“You’re a great swimmer.”
Tony nodded at her as he bent to snatch his towel off the chair next to her. She’d taken off the sunglasses, so that was progress. He could feel the sweep of her eyes over his chest and down to where his wet trunks molded to his thighs.
And he had the idea that maybe she hadn’t been a snooty bitch before.
Maybe she’d been speechless.
Because she liked the way he looked in his swimsuit.
He covered the unexpected laugh with a cough.
Testing his theory, Tony ran his towel over his head and down his neck before drying his chest. Her eyes followed every inch, and Tony decided to have a seat. Try a little conversation. See how far this would go.
“Thanks. So which was it? Epiphany or mosquito?”
Randa was embarrassed. And cute. “Sorry about that. You surprised me, that’s all. I was thinking about something stupid I did, and I really didn’t need an audience.” She licked her lips. “I thought I was out here by myself.”
Tony thought she might be almost telling the truth. He had surprised her. Figuring out who the real Randa Whitmore was might be a fun game as long as he didn’t get too caught up in it.
He motioned at her cover-up. “Good thing you dressed in layers. Wouldn’t want you to get cold.” When she turned to frown at him, Tony smiled and watched her eyes widen.
“Are you smiling at me?” Randa clapped. “Oh, I didn’t believe it was possible. He teases and he smiles.”
Tony wanted to laugh but he was afraid that might send her back into speechless shock. He wasn’t absolutely sure he still could. But he wanted to and that mattered.
“Water’s nice. Maybe you should get in.” Tony shrugged. “Since you’re already here.”
Randa fidgeted with the cover-up, tugging the bottom edge down. “Tony, you may not know this, but sun damage is dangerous.”
He didn’t answer, just watched her.
“Plus, I mean… wrinkles, you know?” She slid her sunglasses back on and leaned back against the lounger.
Wrinkles? “So, you came out to sit beside the pool… why?” She was passing up a beautiful, deserted pool because she was worried about wrinkles? That made no sense. “If you can’t swim, say so. It’s no big deal.”
“Oh, I can swim.” She said it like she might be a little offended at the suggestion. “I was captain of my swim team in high school, thank you very much.”
Tony wanted to see her in a swimsuit. Badly. He wanted to burn the image of her in a bikini somewhere safe and sound that he could savor later to his heart’s content.
“Oh, right. You, on the swim team.” Tony watched her bright red lips tighten.
“I just don’t feel like swimming, that’s all.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“So you’re out here by the pool instead of… I don’t know, touring Graceland? Or doing your nails? Or bathing in unicorn blood to stave off wrinkles? You must have a long list of other things to do.”
Randa dismissed that idea with a wave. “Unicorn blood? Do you know how expensive that stuff is?”
Tony laughed. He couldn’t help it. It was rusty and harsh to his ears, but the feeling of letting go of some of the tension and fear that he might not ever laugh again, especially while sitting next to a beautiful woman, was so damn good. He felt a little warmer toward Randa. Even if she was up to no good, she was helping him along.
“I wanted to wait until the weekend for Graceland. I thought I’d ask Laura for a tour”—she paused and looked very obviously in his direction until he shook his head at her unspoken but obvious request to see the rest of the hotel—“later and I barely slept last night so I wanted out of the room.”
Thinking of her, a hotel bed, and barely sleeping was doing his concentration no good. “The first night in a new place can mess up your sleep, for sure.”
“Oh, I spend a lot of time in hotel rooms, so I…” Tony watched her face as she realized what she’d just said. That fit his idea of a corporate spy who traveled to pick up insider information. Her hand jerked like she wanted to slap her forehead again. She fought the urge. “You know, for my job as a… management consultant. I usually sleep pretty well and I had no complaints at all about my room.” She bit her lip and said, “I just had bad dreams and then spent too much time thinking.”
Tony took a deep breath, held it for a minute, and then exhaled quietly. This was something he understood very well. There was just something about three in the morning that made everything worse, like the door opened and every nightmare he had could visit. And once he was awake, falling back to sleep was impossible. Memories and fears and a million different questions kept him up and there was very little to do except flip on the television or…
“I finished the book I brought with me and then discovered I’d left the cord to charge my tablet at home.” Tony thought she looked pretty miserable at the confession. He understood the feeling perfectly.
“That’s a pretty good reason to slap your own forehead,” he drawled.
Randa brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Believe me, I am well aware.”
Tony was distracted by the way her hair slithered over her shoulder to slide down her back.
“I looked online for bookstores and there’s nothing close. Still, I’m thinking a taxi ride is in my future.”
“There’s an adult bookstore not too far away.” He watched her roll her eyes.
Randa slid her sunglasses back on with a huff. “Is this your concierge level service? Because I’m not impressed. I had something different in mind.”
It was on the tip of his tongue. He was about to offer her a ride. It wasn’t like it was out of his way to take her with him. He was planning to make his weekly trip to the Book Nook, his favorite bookstore.
But volunteering to spend that time with her would be a very bad idea.
She wrinkled her nose. “I guess you’ll just have to entertain me.”
Roughly a hundred different ways to keep her busy sprang to mind, but Tony was pretty sure none of them were what she meant. At least, he didn’t think so. He really hated the sunglasses. He couldn’t tell what she was thinking with them on, not that she’d been all that clear before. With her, he needed all the help he could get.
She leaned closer to him, close enough that he could smell her perfume, and put her hand on his arm. “Tell me about the tattoo.”
Tony cleared his throat. “I was a Marine.”
Her eyebrows rose over the dark glasses. “Uh, yeah, I was kind of getting that. Where? What did you do? For how long? Give me the details.”
Tony was a little sorry he’d demanded a response now. He didn’t really want to get into a heavy conversation with her. He had a “none of your business” answer on the tip of his tongue, but the look on her face was genuine. She wanted to know more about him. He cleared his throat. “Iraq, among other places. Combat logistics. And for too damn long.”
Randa just raised an eyebrow.
Tony rubbed his forehead. “We fixed things. In combat. I mean, that’s what we did. Moved things, repaired thing
s, roads, machinery, whatever… in combat. Okay?”
Randa pursed her lips. “The strong, silent type, I see.”
Tony didn’t answer.
“That sounds like a lot of hard work.” She squeezed his arm and his stomach tensed in reaction. Instead of setting him on edge or making him nervous, the way every touch had for the first year he’d been home, he wanted her to move that hand. All over. He had plenty of bare skin. He wanted her to touch all of it. “But important too. For safety and just… I don’t know, winning doesn’t seem to be the right word.”
She was right on both counts. It had been important. And winning was not the right word. But that was impossible to explain to a civilian, especially when he hadn’t really wrapped his own head around it.
“Whose names are these?” She ran the tip of her finger over the list of names in simple script that twisted in and out between the larger letters that made up Semper Fi.
Tony felt the tickle of her fingernail all the way to the soles of his feet. He squirmed in the chair and did his best to will away any other reaction. “Friends. People who mean a lot to me. That’s all. Just important people to me.” He frowned. “Don’t make this into some kind of movie of the week, okay? I was a Marine. I wasn’t wounded. I made it home. I do have friends who went through the same thing I did and who made a difference.”
Randa pursed her lips. “Sorry if I’m being too nosy. I’m just curious about what makes someone do something so permanent, you know?”
Tony closed his eyes and tried to loosen the muscles across his shoulders. He hated talking about this. “Are you talking about joining the Marines or the tattoo?”
Randa’s quiet laugh made him feel a little easier. “Well, I meant the tattoo, but maybe both now that you mention it.”
He turned his head to look at her. And he felt better. Her smile was beautiful. And sincere. “My dad was a Marine. I guess… I don’t know, maybe it felt like a connection to him.” He looked down at the names on his arm. “Maybe you don’t get it, but people matter more than things. I don’t have a lot of things but I remember the people who made a difference to me. And I don’t want to forget how lucky I’ve been.”
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