by Opal Carew
She’d seen neither hide nor hair of Noah since their altercation. Seth, however, stopped by with flowers. Twice. Stole a few kisses that kept her pulse racing.
On Friday afternoon, he phoned to invite her to dinner at his condo.
“Very casual,” he told her. “All you need to bring is that sexy body, your beautiful smile . . . and a bikini.”
She laughed. “It’s supposed to snow again tonight. Moonlight snowmobile-riding in our bathing suits is completely out of the question.”
“I have an indoor hot tub.”
“Oh. Well that’s a horse of a different color. What time?”
“I’ll send a driver for you around seven. That way you can have cocktails—and I don’t have to worry about you battling inclement weather in that tiny car of yours.”
“It is environmentally and economically friendly. Don’t knock the Prius.”
He chuckled. “Fine. I’ll be nice. Oh, and . . . Noah’s going to be joining us for dinner. He has some business to discuss with you.”
Her jaw dropped.
They were having dinner with Noah?
The line crackled for a few suspended seconds.
Seth filled the silence by saying, “See you tonight,” then disconnected the call.
Sylvia yanked her cell phone away from her ear and stared at it.
Blinked a couple of times. Tried to breathe.
She was attracted to both Seth and Noah. How the hell was she going to hide that from either man? Seth in particular?
She’d slept with him. Now she was also lusting after his best friend. So . . . not exactly convenient to be in the same room with both men.
Anxiety gnawed at her as she returned her attention to unpacking and shelving products.
Tried to anyway, because seven o’clock rolled around all too fast . . .
Chapter Six
Sylvia was pacing the minuscule entryway of her apartment when the doorbell rang. The driver was congenial, but he didn’t engage her in mindless chatter for two hours, for which Sylvia was eternally grateful. Her thoughts were on Seth. And Noah. Two of the hottest men she’d ever laid eyes on.
Two men who had both fucked her—in very different ways.
On the drive up the mountain, she contemplated what Noah might want to discuss with her. She couldn’t fathom him being interested in any of her equipment. His spa would have state-of-the-art facial stations and luxurious matching massage tables similar to what she would have purchased if they weren’t so damn far out of her price range.
So the notion that occurred to her next made her gasp inwardly.
What if he was going to ask her to walk away from her spa now? Before she even launched operations? So that Bayfront residents anticipated the opening of his sure-to-be-award-winning spa? So that he could hire the therapists and aestheticians she’d already painstakingly vetted and recruited?
Oh, Jesus!
Sylvia resisted the urge to smack the palm of her hand against her forehead.
She’d been so wrapped up in suddenly having to compete with the Covington Collection that she hadn’t even given full consideration to the fact that Noah would want local talent as certainly as he’d want to bring in specialists from San Francisco, Santa Barbara, San Diego . . . New York?
Son of a bitch.
The hits just kept coming.
Sylvia stewed while gazing out the side window at the light flurries. The sky glowed pink with the promise of a heavier fall. Golden rays shimmered through the cloud cover over the tops of hundred-foot pines, their branches laden with fresh powder.
It was such beautiful scenery that it should have been calming and tranquil. But everything inside of Sylvia churned so that she was tempted to tell the driver to return her to Bayfront.
But she didn’t feel as though she belonged there now any more than Bliss Mountain.
Not a foreign sensation.
When was Sylvia going to find her place in life?
And what about Chloe? She’d been so excited when Sylvia had told her about the Bayfront building. Now she was the one ripping the rug from underneath her friend’s feet. And just when they’d finally been thinking they’d found the right “hometown.”
Sylvia’s agitation mounted as the driver escorted her to Seth’s condo. So much so that she told him, “I wouldn’t wander too far. I’ll likely need a ride back in half an hour. Sorry.”
“Whatever you want, Miss Carter,” he kindly said. “Mr. Lofton pays me either way.”
“Right. Well. Thank you.”
She stared at the front door as the driver discreetly left her.
It was impossible not to think of the last time she’d stood on this threshold. Seth had been searching for the correct key on the ring and Sylvia had been brimming with excitement. The forbidden notion of going to his condo during the middle of a party he was hosting, combined with the anticipation of how explosive their chemistry would be, had made her vibrate from head to toe. So that every single second it’d taken him to figure out how the hell to get them inside had heightened her arousal and exhilaration.
Now, despite all her consternation on the way up here, she flared again with the expectancy of what Seth might have in store for her.
And that thrill was intensified by knowing that it wasn’t just one breath-stealing man standing on the other side of the threshold waiting for her . . . but two.
Because even though she was steamed over Noah invading her life and turning it upside down . . . dear Lord, the man was too sinfully delicious to simply dismiss.
All, all, all bad and wrong.
And yet Sylvia’s fingertip pressed the buzzer to announce her arrival.
Butterflies took flight in her stomach. Her pulse hitched a few notches.
Get a grip, Sylvie. Be cool.
But she had no idea what Seth was up to. Or Noah.
The lock on the door sprang free and she steeled herself for—anything. The door cracked open and there was Seth, ruggedly handsome in Levi’s, a burgundy sweater, and tan hiking boots.
His shoulders seemed broader than before. His eyes greener. His smile sexier.
He leaned in and kissed her sweetly, sensuously. Lust rode the adrenaline rushing through her.
He took her hand in one of his and her tote bag in the other. Pulled her into the entryway. The stunning chandelier she’d admired the last time she was here was now turned off, in lieu of the yards of plush, lit garlands, festive wreaths, and a decorated tree.
“All of this wasn’t here last weekend,” she said on an astonished breath as she absorbed the gorgeous Christmas ambience—something she’d always loved and had rarely experienced.
Seth seemed to have grasped that, because he said, “You liked the lodge and the property all lit up. So I decorated for you.”
She crooked a brow.
“Okay,” he confessed, “I had someone do the decorating. But I did pick it all out myself.”
“It’s beautiful.” Her gaze swept toward the living room, and there was Noah, standing before the glowing fire with a glass of champagne in his hand. Returning her attention to Seth, she said, “But I’m still mad at you.”
Seth shot a look over his shoulder at his friend. Then told her, “He’s not a bad guy. And I invited him for a reason. A couple of them, actually. I got the sense the two of you might have hit it off if you weren’t considering him a rival.”
“Not considering, Seth. He is my rival.”
“And yet you didn’t deny the first part of my sentence. Hmm. Interesting.” His eyes sparkled with more than the reflection of the golden twinkle lights.
He led her into the living room and set her tote on the deep-gray, tufted, low-back sectional with a chaise lounge at one end. The enormous piece of furniture faced the fireplace. Candles on the mantle blazed and there were more complements to the holiday décor scattered here and there. Nothing overwhelming, just enough to infuse the condo with the right amount of seasonal cheer.
The chan
delier over the smoky glass dining table—set farther back and looking out onto the side of the mountain—was on a low setting and provided the only other illumination. Seth had created a seductive, inviting atmosphere, one enhanced by the sight of him and Noah, who wore all black again. A suit with its jacket unbuttoned and a crisp shirt opened at the neck.
“Sylvia.” Noah greeted her with a scorching look as Seth removed her coat. His gaze roved her body, taking in her tight brown leather pants and her cream-colored button-down fitted blouse with the lacy camisole matching in hue that peeked out at her breasts.
“Seriously, Noah?” she challenged him as the heat rimmed his tawny irises.
His grin was downright devilish. “Seriously, Sylvia.” He lifted his flute and gave a mock salute. “You are always quite the vision.”
Her heart fluttered. Damn it.
But, no . . . that was crazy. She couldn’t be hot for both of them—in front of them!
And for that matter . . . She jerked her chin upward and asked, “What, exactly, are you doing here? Seth said you have something to discuss with me.”
“I do. Champagne?” Noah offered.
“Not when we’re talking business.”
“Oh, Sylvia,” he playfully sighed. “I thought we were becoming friends.”
“We were. But then I deliberated over what you could possibly want from me that would cause you to be here for dinner tonight with me and Seth, and I started hating you again.”
“Damn,” Seth said as he clasped Noah’s shoulder. “It’s quite clear that you’re the one who’s lost his touch.”
Noah scowled. “You’ll both be eating crow when my hand is revealed.” He set aside his glass and pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his jacket. Handing the slim package to Sylvia, he said, “I spent all week on this. Considered dozens of options—including buying you out and making your spa a Covington Collection annex for all those in-between, quick-fixes you told me about. Then I realized I wasn’t quite digging deep enough into the gold mine.”
“Noah, how you love to entice with glittery words.”
He grinned again. “I only do it with you because I secretly think you like my flattery.”
“Think again.”
“Say what you must to keep the defenses intact. But when you take a look at what I have to offer, you just might be singing a different tune.”
“Doubtful.” She spared a glance toward Seth.
He shrugged and gave her an earnest look. “No idea what he’s up to, sweetheart. Noah is an enigma who can bend and flex to work out deals in the most mysterious ways.”
“Well, then,” she said and thrust the envelope back to Noah. “If it’s a deal you want, I’m not interested. I made up my mind. I’m going to try to generate as much revenue as I can between now and the opening of your hotel, and then sell my building. Chloe and I will find someplace else to live and work. We liked Tacoma, years ago. I’m currently looking into the opportunities there.”
“Or,” Noah told her in a challenging tone as he pushed her hand, still holding the envelope, back toward her. “Curiosity will get the best of you and you’ll have a little look-see at the solution I’ve come up with. Now, I will admit, it’s totally to my advantage. Well, to the spa’s and the clientele’s advantage as well, but ultimately . . . that is to my advantage, isn’t it?”
“You are quite the silver-tongued devil. What am I supposed to make of all of that?”
Seth laughed. “I think it means open the damn envelope, Sylvia. Even I’m dying of curiosity.”
She was, too. Though she pretended not to be. Still tried to keep her cool. With no real luck.
She sighed dejectedly—because she just wasn’t capable of maintaining a steady pulse around these two men. Then she tore open the flap and extracted the papers. Read every single word right down to the “This is an official letter of intent to hire,” and the proposed salary and the proposed percentage of stock options and the proposed title . . .
Her gaze snapped up to meet Noah’s. “Vice President of Spa Services?”
“I came up with that on the fly. If you don’t like it, pick something else.”
Her jaw slacked.
Noah said, “There’s more. Page two.”
She could barely process the salary and stock options to get to page two. It took several seconds, in fact, as her heart hammered in her chest. Then she slid away the top sheet and scanned the second.
“Oh, my God.” Tears instantly sprang to her eyes and she quickly said, “I have to sit.”
Before her knees gave out.
Both Seth and Noah lunged forward and suddenly she was perched on the edge of the sofa cushion, her eyes still locked on page two.
“I think she’s going to need a drink,” Noah told Seth. “Something a bit heartier than champagne.”
“Scotch,” she squeaked out. Then her gaze lifted to Noah’s and she said, “For Chloe, too?”
“Director of Spa Services. Or, again, whatever the hell you want to call the division.” He sank onto the matching oversized ottoman that served as a coffee table and gave her a sincere look. “Sylvia, I did my homework. You rattled off all those cities—and the spas you’d worked at are listed on your website. I called each one. Spoke with some employees, some managers, and all of the owners. You not only come highly recommended, they would all take you back in a heartbeat. Expressly asked me to tell you that, in the event you didn’t accept my offer. In fact, Elle Spa is deviously plotting how to win you over—hence me adding in the stock options.”
“I just can’t believe this . . .” Her mind reeled.
“And by the way,” Noah added, “you increased product sales at Mii amo by seventy-two percent, not sixty-eight.”
“Noah.” She shook her head, still in shock.
“What?” He smirked. “Do you not grasp that I’m a businessman who deals with billion-dollar properties and acquisitions? I’m no fool, Sylvia. I won’t overlook a phenomenal opportunity to staff my spa not only with killer leadership, but also with two women who know the business right down to what products to stock on the shelves and the latest-and-greatest detox waters to serve. You and Chloe have worked together for years. You both know all the ins and outs. The details that make a spa stand out. I don’t want Mii amo’s number two ranking. I want the number one ranking. And I want you to get it for me, Sylvia.”
“Noah, I’ve never been the head of a spa of this magnitude.” Panic crept around the fringes of her tone, as much as excitement did.
“But you’ve done exceptional things with some of the best of the best. And, Sylvia. . . . you’ll have Chloe. If you both agree.”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. Because this was an even grander level of stability for Chloe—far above what Sylvia had been trying to provide her.
Still, she couldn’t help reminding him, “Chloe hates you more than I do.”
“Just give me a chance.”
“I’ve known Noah for nearly two decades,” Seth interjected, handing her a tumbler of Scotch. “He doesn’t do shit like this if he’s not serious, sweetheart.”
Noah added, “If I’d seen your résumé come across my desk, I would have investigated further. And would have extended an offer. Not just because of the recommendations and the high praise, but because you know your market. You studied it when Mitzy Talkington left town and figured out what it was that Bayfront clients were looking for. Am I proud that I could very well—okay, most definitely—squeeze you out when I open my hotel? No. But that’s business. And I respect your talent and knowledge enough to know that the smartest thing for me to do is bring you in on the ground floor. Chloe, too.”
Sylvia took a deep drink. Seth settled in beside her and said, “Sounds like an astounding deal and an all-around win.”
“Sure. For me and for Chloe. It’s just—”
“No,” Noah said quietly as he pressed a fingertip to her lips. “Not yet. Don’t say no just yet. Think about it. Talk it over w
ith Chloe.”
“Noah,” she spoke around his finger, then delicately swept his hand away. “It’s not that this isn’t the most incredible job offer for us both. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart. It’s just that ever since I inherited that building, I wanted my own spa. What’s happened this past week has come about quickly. It’s kind of making my head spin. But mostly . . . it’s something I have to seriously process because . . .” Her gaze shifted to Seth and she said, “I told you about foster care. I didn’t tell you everything and never will because it’s pretty fucking horrific. Primarily for Chloe.”
Her attention returned to Noah. “She feels safe with me. She trusts me. She’s a different person with me—someone who can tell jokes and laugh at the most inconsequential things and wear these ridiculously cute hot-pink rain boots because they’re fun.” More tears flowed. “Chloe didn’t have fun growing up. Just like I didn’t have Christmas decorations. We’re meant to be together. What I do going forward has to be in her best interest. And that means . . . there’s a certain comfort level that has to fit Chloe’s personality.”
“And yours.” Noah swiped at fat drops on her cheek. “I told you I listen to what you say. Do you, me, and Chloe a favor and let all of this simmer in the back of your brain. We’ll talk in a few days or a week. Two. Take however long you need.”
He leaned in and kissed her forehead. So easily, so intimately.
Noah stood. “Don’t put the whole world on your shoulders, Sylvia.”
He started toward the front door.
Sylvia jumped to her feet. “Wait! You’re leaving? Before dinner?”
Over his shoulder, he said, “You wanted to know why I was here tonight. That’s it.”
Her gaze flashed to Seth.
He lifted his hands in the air. “Swear to God, sometimes I have no fucking clue what goes on in his mind.”
“You’re best friends,” she shot back.
“He’s got his head up his ass sometimes and then suddenly he sees the light of day—I can’t predict it!”
She crossed her arms over her chest. Glared at Seth.
“So now you like him . . .”