A Suite Life (Suite Love Series Book 2)

by Sue Gibson

  Apparently he wasn't nearly as conflicted, since he only paused briefly at her door.

  "Good night, Delaney. And thanks again. Without you, I'd never have accomplished all this," he said, waving in the direction of the gleaming driftwood sculpture.

  He flashed a glance to her face, but quickly dropped his gaze. Like most men with commitment phobias, he was probably squeamish when confronted with real emotion, she decided, in a desperate but unsuccessful attempt to excuse his behavior.

  "Keep in touch"

  His words sounded like something off a Hallmark card. Polite, friendly. Generic.

  She pushed hard against her door. Darkness enveloped her as she stepped across the threshold. The metallic click of the door incised the silent space, punctuating the end of all things Trey. She stretched her hand to the wall to collect her bearings. She threw her purse to the corner and almost made it to the bed before the sobs, rising from her belly, shook her body.

  The next morning the sun dawned only to fight its way though a thick layer of billowing gray clouds. Perfect, Delaney considered as she dragged open the floorto-ceiling drapes. The weather is totally in sync with my life.

  Bleary-eyed from her sleepless night, she glanced at her watch: 6:45 A.M. If she hustled, she might make it out of the building before Trey came down for breakfast. The last thing she wanted was an awkward elevator ride with Trey. Checking her watch again, she hurried to the bathroom.

  Nineteen minutes later, showered, dressed, and packed, she pressed zero on her phone and requested help with her bags.

  Soon Jason was at her door, a large luggage trolley po sitioned at his side. "Good morning, Miss Forbes. Sorry to see you leave. I hope your stay here was enjoyable"

  She nodded in response to the young man's polite inquiry. "It was, Jason. Thanks" It wasn't a lie. For the most part it'd been fabulous. Living the high life, dining and dancing, room service at her fingertips. Exactly what she'd imagined when she signed on for the job. And what a job! Her paintings now hung on the walls of a five-star hotel, with rave reviews to boot.

  "Yes, it has been amazing, in so many ways" All Trey had done was keep up his end of their bargain. No reason to resent him for that. She raised her chin and forced a smile. Paris, here I come. Much stronger for my time spent here, thanks to Trey.

  Thankfully, the elevator was empty of other guests. As much as she wanted to connect with Lily, she'd wait until she was at home again. Right now it was paramount she leave the hotel and her broken heart behind.

  Flo had phoned a few days before to tell her that her house was smoke-free and ready for occupation again, the tenants not moving in until next week.

  Thanks again to Jason, a car waited for her in the circular drive. She was whisked down the drive, through the dusty, tree-lined mile that led to the village's familiar streets.

  The small, white house never looked so good, she thought as the car crunched its way up her graveled driveway. She popped open the door handle, and the driver scurried to retrieve her luggage.

  Standing at the bottom of the steps, she studied the white-clad, two-story building. Gingerbread trim rimmed the roof. The tidy picket fence running along the property's perimeter was laden with blooming clematis vine. She drew in the sweet flavor of home and smiled her first genuine smile of the day. It's beautiful.

  She couldn't wait to sleep in her own bed. Peek through the kitchen's crisp, polka-dotted cafe curtains at her shaggy backyard grass.

  Maybe pop down to the Bluebird and nose out what she'd missed in Buttermilk Falls proper, while she'd been living a fairy-tale life at the Nirvana.

  Two steps in, the kitchen's wall phone jangled, its ring jarring, after becoming accustomed to the muted tones of her hotel's state-of-the-art system.

  She dropped her keys on the counter and hurried across the checkerboard linoleum, her heart fluttering in her chest. Maybe it was Trey?

  "Hey, girlfriend."

  It was Lily. "Hi, there. I thought honeymooners slept till noon."

  Lily giggled and relayed Delaney's words to Ethan, a mildly annoying habit, Delaney noted, of which cohabiting lovebirds overly indulged.

  "Well, we're not officially on our honeymoon anymore," Lily replied. "Home to stay. Ethan checked with the contractors this morning. Our house should be ready in about eight weeks"

  "That's great news. Have you told Emma yet?"

  "Phoned her an hour ago. Emma is thrilled about moving to Loon Lake. She loved her stay with Mom and Dad at the Hideaway and she talked nonstop about the deer that feed just outside the kitchen window. And because she enjoyed Emma's company so much, Mom has decided to start volunteering at Tay Valley's Down's Syndrome Day-Away Center!"

  "That's wonderful, Lily."

  "Ethan and I are heading over to surprise Emma now. And guess what!"

  Lily didn't wait for a reply, but Delaney didn't mind a bit. She'd missed her friend's chatter. E-mails just weren't nearly as much fun.

  "The three of us are staying in your gorgeous penthouse suites until the house is done!"

  So now it was Lily's turn to experience eight weeks of the suite life. "Perfect. Let me know your impressions, after you've been there for a while. I'd be interested."

  "Of course," Lily said, her voice lowering to a subdued tone. "I can't believe you're leaving, just when I get back home"

  "I know, our timing is the pits." She dragged a red and black chrome chair from the kitchen table and plunked down, feeling as if her guiding stars were a tad out of alignment at the moment. "But you know how long I've waited for my year in Paris."

  "I know. But, I thought maybe.... things might have.... changed. Maybe?"

  What was her intuitive friend hinting at? That was the thing about best friends, they dug until they unearthed all your secrets. Had she zeroed in on the attraction between her and Trey in one short evening?

  "No. Nothing's changed." Well, actually everything has changed. "Flo is sending over my tenant's postdated rent checks later today, and I'm hopping a plane for Paris day after tomorrow"

  In the wee hours last night, Delaney had decided against pouring out her heart to Lily. Sweet, softhearted Lily would feel impelled to persuade Trey to commit to poor, lovestruck Delaney. And that was something she couldn't risk. Especially after Trey's casual send-off last night.

  "Then let's have lunch at the Bluebird today," Lily tossed out, apparently willing to abandon the other more intriguing thread of conversation for now.

  Delaney's spirits rose. Now that's just what she needed. Lunch with Lily. "Let's. See you at noon, okay? I'll try to snag our table"

  She replaced the receiver, grabbed the smaller of the suitcases still stacked by the back door, and padded up the stairs to her childhood bedroom.

  She only needed to throw Lily off the scent for one day, and her secret would go with her, unspoken, to Paris.

  Thankfully, in an airport this small, lineups almost never happened, Delaney observed.

  During construction of the Nirvana, a deal had been struck with the municipality. Weatherall provided the property and financed the construction of the airstrip, leaving the administrative costs of the operation to the council. A real coup for both parties.

  "Your plane's still being fueled up, Delaney," Ted Sherman called out. "May as well grab a coffee while you wait."

  Delaney eyed the hulking coffee machine centered between the chips and chocolate bar dispensers. "Thanks, Ted, I think I'll just read a magazine. Just let me know when the plane's ready, please"

  Selecting a tattered magazine from the rack, she eyed the empty waiting room with satisfaction. She'd invited Lily and Ethan over for a barbecue last evening and they'd said their good-byes.

  Propping her feet on her carry-on, she wiggled against the molded plastic of her chair and opened her magazine. Flipping carelessly through the glossy ads, she congratulated herself for managing to make her escape from Buttermilk Falls with minimum fanfare. Thank heavens her parents were in Calgary, or there wou
ld have been a cake and streamers.

  The last thing she wanted was a tearful, emotional good-bye. As it was, she was just barely holding it together. Tears lay just beneath the surface, and she'd likely come undone, if pressed.

  During their lunch at the Bluebird, Lily had peppered her with pointed questions about Delaney's suite life at the Nirvana. Had she ever ordered chocolate cake at midnight? What had it been like working with Trey? Did swimming in the indoor pool dry out her hair? Didn't she love Trey's sense of humor?

  Delaney easily countered with her own line of questioning. Does it really rain in England all the time? Would they return to the Mediterranean for their fifth anniversary, as Lily had sworn in a passionate e-mail sent from Italy?

  Only when she told Lily how she came to paint again did Delaney stop censoring her words. She detailed the progression of her artistic renaissance, including Trey's supportive role. She didn't even care that the Gadabout Girls had put down their forks and had shushed the chattering children twirling aimlessly atop the cafe's vinyl-topped barstools in order to hear the conversation better.

  "Delaney" A deep, masculine voice returned her to real time.

  Her breath caught in her throat. The magazine slipped from her hands. Trey stood beside her suitcases, his hands stuffed into his jeans' pockets.

  She remained seated, her body cemented to the chair. What was going on? Had something happened to Lily? She looked past Trey through the glass to the parking lot and Trey's unoccupied car.

  "What are you doing here?" She knew her tone bordered on rude, but her plane was now rolling toward the terminal.

  Under his tan, he looked pale. He shifted uneasily from one foot to another and cast a glance toward the approaching plane. "Look. I know my timing is bad, but I really need to tell you something."

  "Okay, go ahead" Hope fluttered her chest. No. It can't possibly be.

  A plane buzzed the terminal like a big, annoying bee and she shifted ahead on her seat to better hear his words. He grabbed her hands and pulled her to a standing position. Their noses practically touching, his breath fanned her cheek.

  He spoke rapidly, as if he didn't say his piece quickly, he'd lose his nerve. "I love you. I know I said I wouldn't fall for you, but I did. You, this place, changed me. I want to be with you. That is, when you're ready. After Paris, of course" His grip tightened on her hands. His chest rose and fell under his shirt as he watched her with boy-like expectancy.

  Her knees like water, she lifted her hand and touched his face with her open palm. "Oh, Trey" He wasn't asking her to give up Paris. He was willing to wait while she lived her dream.

  The tears that had been threatening for three days clouded her eyes. He loved her. The big old black-andwhite movie way.

  "I don't want Paris anymore," she confessed. "I stopped needing Paris when I started painting again. I want to stay here. Paint where I love and understand the landscape. I was only still going to Paris to try and get over you."

  He tipped her chin with his fingertip and looked at her, naked vulnerability replacing his usual confidence. "So what are you saying?"

  She flung her arms around his neck. "I'm saying that I love you too. That I wanted to end our stupid pact weeks ago"

  Her words were barely out and he was kissing her. Her lips, her cheeks, her chin, her forehead.

  She pulled back in his arms and looked into his face, anxious to sort through the complications of a longdistance relationship. "Hey, maybe after Asia, Weatherall will bring you back to work on this continent," she said, trying to inject optimism in her voice.

  "I turned it down."

  "You what!" Stunned, she gulped hard. "I don't understand"

  "I'm done with living out of a suitcase. I want a real life."

  And he wants it with me. Pure joy coursed through her veins. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ted covertly watching them, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

  "I know of at least three deserving Weatherall executives primed and waiting for an opportunity like Asia," Trey continued. He steadied his gaze and looked directly into her eyes. "I asked Mr. Weatherall for the job of permanent manager, here at Loon Lake."

  What? He'd passed on the Asian project before he knew she no longer wanted to go to Paris. The last of her doubts fell away.

  "I can't think of a better place to live, once we're married," he ventured, "than 31 Lilac Lane, Buttermilk Falls, Ontario."

  She snuggled into his arms, thrilled at the thought of raising a family in her childhood home. "Just one little problem, Trey. My tenants are moving in day after tomorrow. I deposited their rent checks in the bank yesterday."

  "Hey, you're forgetting that I'm the go-to guy. There are no problems, only solutions. How about we give them a complimentary penthouse suite-for whatever time they need to find another house."

  She melted back into his waiting arms. "I knew there was a reason I fell for you"