Bargaining With the Boss

by Jennifer Shirk

  “What’s that?” Damon asked, taking a step in that direction.

  Kinsley shifted and blocked his way. “Nothing. Probably Colette.”

  He frowned. “I thought you said she wasn’t in the hotel.”

  “Oh. Then it’s probably the mice.”

  “Kinsley…”

  Another crash sounded. Then a string of curses broke through the air.

  His brows lifted. “The mice around here sure use colorful language.”

  “I can explain,” she said, lifting spread hands before him.

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  Just then Mr. Knotts came up behind her and tapped her on the shoulder. “Kinsley, dear, I just wanted you to know nothing is broken and no paint is spilled. Old Bob’s been having problems with the new ladder and keeps knocking it over. But don’t worry. It’s all fixed and he won’t disturb your guests again.”

  Kinsley held in a sigh. Not exactly how she wanted to “explain” everything to Damon. “That’s okay, Mr. Knotts. Thanks for letting me know.”

  “Should I take this muffin tray with me?” he asked, eyeing it longingly.

  A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Damon folded his arms as he watched Mr. Knotts retreat into the ballroom with the tray of muffins. “So…” he said, swinging his gaze back to her, “would Mr. Knotts and Old Bob be what you were about to explain to me?”

  “Yes. I hired them to spruce up the ballroom with a fresh coat of paint. Nothing major. But before you get all worked up, you have to know I did not use or plan to use any part of the hotel budget.”

  “But I can’t let you pay it out of pocket. Kinsley, this is such a waste of—”

  “I’m not paying for it, either.”

  Damon scratched his head. “Care to elaborate? Why would they paint if they’re not getting paid?”

  “Well, they agreed to help me because I asked.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Sure they did. Want to try that again?”

  “It’s true! Cape Harmony is a small town. They were friends with my parents. Mr. Knotts ’ wife passed away about a year ago. And if you must know, they sort of are getting paid. Just not with money. I promised a free weekend stay here at the hotel to the guys and a batch of my homemade chili, plus two pies to Mr. Knotts.”

  “Two pies?”

  “One blueberry and one pecan.” Truth be told, she thought two pies were a little much. After all, he was only one man. But the amount of money he had saved her in painting costs was worth the extra baking effort.

  Damon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Let me get this straight. You bartered your cooking skills for a paint job?”

  She fidgeted under his bladelike stare. “Um, yes?”

  He let out a chuckle. “Why did I ever underestimate you?”

  “I’m pretty used to it.” She looked away.

  It was actually one of the sticking points between her and Paul and why she ultimately decided to leave her job with the casino. She had never noticed it while they were together, but after their breakup, Paul was constantly finding ways to put her job performance down. Especially in front of her peers. Unfortunately, she was just vulnerable enough to start doubting her own abilities and believing what Paul was telling her. She had to get out of that toxic environment. Better for her to leave first than get fired later. Maybe things would have been different if she stayed and had fought for her job. But now she’d never know.

  Damon lifted her chin with his finger. “Hey, don’t look so glum,” he said, his voice softening. “You did good. Well, more like you did okay.”

  Her eyes widened. “I did? Thank you. I hoped you’d see it my way.”

  “Let’s not go nuts. I still question the professionalism and legality of your actions and the whole craziness of the situation. However, I’m guessing in this town, stuff like that flies all the time?”

  She shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  That drew a brief grin from him. “Thought so.”

  She bit her lip, observing his pale complexion. “Um, are you sure you don’t need anything?”

  “No, I’ll be fine.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to go. I’m expecting a phone call. Just try to keep the Three Stooges over there from disturbing the guests any more than they already have. Okay?”

  She half saluted. “Got it, boss.” He turned to walk back to his office. The situation played out a lot smoother than she expected—minus him making her about as breathless as a sixteen-year-old with those deep, languid stares of his. Maybe Damon’s allergies had gotten the better of him, or maybe they were actually making some leeway on seeing eye-to-eye on the future of the hotel. Either way, she appreciated his understanding. So much so that as she studied his retreating back, she felt compelled to call out to him.

  He stopped and raised his brows expectantly.

  Speak, Kinsley. Speak. “Um, I just wanted to say thank you. Again. You had every right to kick Mr. Knotts and his team out of here earlier.”

  “You’re welcome. But I didn’t exactly have a choice.”

  “Well, by every right as the new owner, you did have a choice.”

  Damon met her gaze and held it silently for a long moment. “No,” he said softly, turning away, “I really didn’t.”

  …

  Damon collapsed into his office chair with a whoosh.

  Maybe he should have taken Elena’s offer to get him something from the pharmacy, because right now, he felt like his head weighed about fifty pounds. His back and shoulders ached, too. Probably from this antique office chair. He would get a cup or two of coffee in his system then go see if Kinsley had any aspirin.

  Kinsley.

  What was he going to do about her? He already knew what he’d like to do with her and to her. That wasn’t the issue, except that it had nothing at all to do with business or proper boss–employee relations. And that’s where the real problem lay.

  Kinsley was a funny and unique woman—like the town itself—that’s for sure. It kept him off-balance, the ability she had to surprise him all the time. One day she was strong and verbally fighting him to the death, and the next, she was vulnerable and hopeful, trying any way she could to keep the hotel viable for as long as possible. Two seconds in her company and she had him eating out of the palm of her hand—he, Mr. Knotts, and he was sure the rest of the painting crew as well. The thing was…she was so damn hard to say no to.

  Strange. He’d never had that problem before. He was a well-respected CEO. Yet, in the span of three days, he’d become a cat-petting, smoothie-drinking, wanting-to-be-friends-with-his-employee old softy. He ran a hand through his hair.

  His cell phone rang, and he looked down. It was the call he’d been expecting. And dreading.

  “Hi, Dad,” he answered.

  “Damon,” his father said in his gruff voice, “how is everything going in New Jersey?”

  Damon looked out the window at the beautiful spring sunshine sparkling over the Atlantic Ocean. Spectacular. Not the first thing that would normally have come to mind if someone had mentioned Jersey to him. It and the people here were both a pleasant surprise.

  “It’s not quite New York,” he answered, keeping his voice deliberately neutral. In New York City, he could blend. He was just another face in the crowd. A loner. Easier to keep to himself. But, in Cape Harmony, he was already feeling under the spotlight with people wanting to know more about him and his plans for The Harbor Light.

  Joseph St. James chuckled. “Yes, I’ve been. It’s very true. So, let’s get down to business, shall we? What’s the status down there?”

  Damon held in a sigh. Of course. With his father there was never time for chitchat—even with his own son. Without hesitation, he logged onto his laptop. “Well, looking at the balance sheet from last year—”

  “You have their balance sheet?”

  “Yes. The balance sheet for The Harbor Light Hotel.”

  “No, no. I want to know the status of
the Atlantic City acquisition. That casino that was built way over budget. What was it, The Coastal?”

  Damon sat back, perplexed. Then he remembered. The casino buyout. Crap, it’d completely slipped his mind. He’d been so busy with Kinsley and the hotel, he hadn’t given anything or anyone else a second thought. He was so screwed. “Uh, yeah, The Coastal. To be honest, when I didn’t hear from Smith’s attorney, I didn’t bother to follow up.”

  “Didn’t bother to follow up? Dammit, Damon. I’ve fired people for less than that. That was prime property we could have gotten for practically a song and a can of soda. What the hell were you thinking?”

  Damon rubbed a hand down his face, his headache growing worse. “I know. They were desperate to sell ever since their bankruptcy, but I think there might have been some contention with the city. Several bids had been withdrawn as a result.”

  “You think there was contention? You don’t make business deals on speculation, son. Only on facts. The deadline has passed, and you blew it. I was counting on that. Counting on you.”

  The frustration in his father’s voice had the guilt that always floated just beneath the surface of their conversations came rising to the top. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

  Damon winced at his own words. A wave of nausea hit him as he relived the last time he’d apologized to his dad.

  “You were supposed to bring your brother home. Why didn’t you stay at the party?”

  “I was exhausted. I had just taken my last final.”

  “He counted on you. I counted on you.”

  “I’m so sorry, Dad.”

  Damon tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone bone dry. His skin felt on fire and too tight for his body. “My mind was on other things, Dad. I’ve been working on the hotel here in Cape Harmony. It needs work, but it has a great location.”

  “Yeah, yeah, see what you can salvage out of that place at least. I saw the specs. Not a bad property. Could be worth something in the end. In the meantime, I’ll send some feelers out to other casinos in the area. A lot took a hit when that wave of bankruptcy swept Atlantic City. I definitely want in there. There’s a rumor that one of the universities may set up some housing and classes there as a satellite location. That will bring in a new dynamic. So stay put for a while, I’ll let you know if anyone is willing to meet with us.”

  “Okay. And again, I’m sorry.”

  His dad was quiet for a moment. Eventually he uttered, “This can be fixed.” Then he ended the call.

  Damon placed his phone down, steeling his emotions. Damn. He’d let his father down again. He’d gotten his thinly veiled message. This mistake he made could be fixed. The mistake he made the night his brother died could not. Another reminder of how unworthy Damon was to be the one still living, and that Damon was to blame.

  He had to make this hotel a worthy investment. Maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to win his father’s approval. He had it once, when he was younger. While his brother was joining sports teams and spending hours out of the house at practices, Damon and his father had bonded watching old movies together. It’s where his appreciation for that classic era had stemmed. For a while, that time had been special for them. Then Damon had gone off to college and Carson had died. Things had never been the same between them since.

  But he could barely dwell on it or let it affect him like he usually allowed it to. The heaviness of his head weighed him down, and all he wanted at that moment was to close his eyes. So he slid his laptop over and gently laid his head on his desk. He couldn’t think about his father or property acquisitions right now. Visions of a pretty brunette with doe-like eyes filled his thoughts instead.

  Chapter Seven

  Kinsley stretched her back as she surveyed the freshly painted room. The white walls and glossy white trim made the area sparkle.

  Not too shabby. Amazing what a single coat of paint could do. A thousand times better than the previous gold and red colors the room had sported since the seventies.

  Mr. Knotts and the other workers had left over an hour ago and promised to be back on Friday to finish the trim and put on another coat. The ballroom floor could still use refinishing, but overall, the room now looked airy and updated. A place she was sure Arden would be willing to show her clients as a reception choice. She couldn’t wait for her and Damon to see the end result.

  Speaking of Damon…

  She hadn’t seen him all day. It wasn’t like him. He usually floated in and out of her office at will with various questions and paperwork. Was he even still here? She thought for sure he would have wanted to check on the painting progress. Maybe he wasn’t really as interested in helping her make the hotel a success as she’d thought. That was depressing. After all, he’d been the one to extend the olive branch and ask to become friends. Maybe that was just pretense, too, to throw her off guard and keep the employees toeing the line. She knew firsthand that business and money made people act funny.

  Another reason not to get involved with anyone you worked with.

  Not that Damon was even remotely interested in getting involved with her. He looked the type to have various women waiting in the wings in the city for him. Probably some swanky model types. Not a jilted hotel manager bookworm. “Friends” was all he wanted from Kinsley. And now she even had her doubts about that.

  She checked her watch. It was almost six o’clock, and the thought of going back to her empty duplex depressed her. She had a better plan. She’d grab her purse from her office and see if Elena wanted to get something to eat. Hopefully she didn’t already have plans with her fiancé, Scott.

  On the way to her office, Kinsley noticed the light in Damon’s office was still on. Wasting energy. Again, not like him. Ha, he wasn’t so perfect after all. If it was her duty to pick up after him, so be it. She stuck her arm through the door to reach the light panel then froze at the sight of Damon slumped over his desk.

  “Damon!” She rushed over to him, heart in her throat.

  Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. She had read about these kinds of things happening at work all the time. Seemingly healthy men in their thirties, found dead of a heart attack at their desks. She just never imagined someone as young and virile as Damon becoming part of that statistic.

  Kinsley ran a hand over his head. It was warm—quite hot, actually—and he moaned under her touch.

  Thank you, God. She let out a long relieved breath and tried to calm her nerves. Not dead and definitely not the result of allergies. If she had to guess, she’d say flu or some other sort of virus. He looked even worse than this morning. She rubbed his muscular back, trying to get his attention. Gosh, he felt nice. All warm and masculine. Even through his shirt, she felt the rich outlines of his athletic physique.

  Was it wrong that an itty-bitty part of her enjoyed touching him like this?

  She cleared her throat and tried to focus. “Damon,” she said again.

  His head rolled to the side. As he peered at her, his lips curved up a little. “Hey.”

  She gave him a small smile. “Hey.” Sweaty and pale and the man still managed to look awfully cute. “Damon, I need to get you into bed.”

  “You’re taking me to bed?” He closed his eyes, his lips still smiling. “I like the sound of that,” he said groggily.

  “No, not in that way—” Why was she even trying to argue? The poor man was clearly delirious. She shook him in an attempt to get his attention again. He shooed her away. He wasn’t budging. She needed help if she was to move him. She rushed over to the door and called for Elena, who ran into the office less than a minute later.

  Elena took one look at Damon and raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh my gosh! You killed him!”

  “Shhh! And no, I didn’t kill him. But why was that the first thing you thought of? He’s just sick. Probably the flu or something.”

  “Oh.” Elena seemed relieved. “Should I call a doctor?”

  “It’s after hours, so I think maybe we should take him home. But I nee
d help getting him to my car and then figuring out where he’s staying.”

  “Oh, that’s easy on both counts. He’s staying right here.”

  “What?” Kinsley blinked. “He’s staying at the hotel?” That news surprised her. Damon seemed like the kind of guy who would be staying out of town, maybe in an Atlantic City casino hotel, far removed from Cape Harmony and the people in it. She could tell from dinner the other night that he was not charmed by the small-town hospitality. Plus, he never mentioned to her he was staying at the hotel. Not that she had a right to know where he was living, anyway.

  “Yeah, he chose one of the suites. Room S7,” Elena said.

  Kinsley’s favorite in the entire hotel. It had the best view of the beach and boardwalk, and when she was little, she loved to hide out in the small storage closet off one of the bedrooms. “Do you have a key on you? Maybe we can manage to take him upstairs so he can lie down.”

  Elena patted her pocket with a grin. “Spare keys right here.” She looked down at Damon with a dubious glance. “He’s dead weight right now. Gorgeous dead weight, but still. Do you really think we’ll be able to move him?”

  Kinsley bit her lip. “Let’s see if we can get him to help us a bit.” She shook his shoulder lightly. “Damon, Elena and I are here to take you back to your room. Do you think you can stand?”

  Damon’s eyes were still closed, but he managed to slowly nod. Kinsley helped him roll back his chair, and both she and Elena grabbed an arm to help him stand. Goodness, he was a lot of man. Kinsley took his arm and placed it over her shoulders, so that she was practically cradled in his chest. Oh, lordy, he smelled fantastic, too, even burning up with a fever. She could think of worse ways to spend her evening.

  Elena, still holding on to his other arm, led them out the door and into the elevator. Kinsley braced herself under Damon, but she could tell he was trying his best to stand on his own and not put too much of his weight on her. Once they stood in front of his room, Elena pulled out the key and opened the door for them. They shuffled him into the bedroom, where Damon finally flopped onto the bed.