Bargaining with the Boss (Accidentally Yours) Page 4

  Or ever.

  Elena quirked an eyebrow as she peeled the wrapper from her muffin. “Your silence speaks volumes, you know.”

  “Really? Do tell.”

  “Well, let’s see. Your silence says you did meet someone at the wedding and…” She narrowed her eyes further. “Ooh, you met someone very cute, but he told you he had a girlfriend. No, wait, after a heavy make-out session, he then proceeded to tell you that he’d just broke up with his girlfriend and didn’t want to use you as a rebound, so it was for the best that you both go your separate ways. Wow, and I thought I heard it all. What a creep.”

  Kinsley laughed. “Your crystal ball needs cleaning. I wish something like that had happened.”

  “Ooh, so I’m on the right track, then.” Elena rubbed her hands together.

  “No. You’re not on any track,” Kinsley said, breaking off a piece of muffin. “You know me. Nothing even remotely interesting like that would happen in my life.” Or at least, it never used to happen… She swallowed. “If you must know, I just ended up having a nice conversation with one of the wedding guests—”

  “A male wedding guest, I’m guessing,” Elena interrupted.

  “Yes, a male wedding guest. We had a few drinks, flirted, shared one dance then…you know.”

  Actually, she didn’t know. Not exactly. That was the problem.

  Elena stared at her for several long seconds. “You had sex with Mr. You Know,” she deduced.

  “What? Oh my gosh, no.” Hopefully, no. “Absolutely not. I would never.” Pretty sure never. “Look, I don’t know why you’re pressing the issue. It’s not worth discussing.”

  Elena laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m pressing because I want to see you living again. Happy. First the death of your dad, then your breakup with Paul. You’ve already had too much happiness taken away from you.”

  Kinsley tensed at Paul’s name, feeling slightly mollified when the only emotion she felt was frustration and not hurt. She was more concerned with the state of her family’s hotel and her job than wallowing in depression over her ex-fiancé. Then with a sharp stab of pain in the chest she remembered it wasn’t her family’s hotel any longer.

  “I know, Elena. But it’s not Paul who’s sucking the happy out of my life at the moment. It’s—”

  “Good morning, ladies,” came a familiar deep voice.

  Oh, no. Her heart thudded. A voice that smooth either came out of a jar you poured over ice cream or… She slowly turned, preparing herself for who she was about to see standing there in the lobby.

  Damon St. James. Of course. The Happiness Sucker himself, apparently reappearing in her life to finish off the job. And didn’t it just figure that he would be leaning an elbow against the registration desk, looking too beautiful for this mere mortal world with his glowing tanned skin and shiny golden hair combed back just so.

  “Mr. St. James,” Kinsley said, managing a cool, professional voice. She was actually quite proud of herself for that, considering her knees did a little wobble at the dazzling blue eyes and the devil-may-care grin he was aiming her way. “What are you doing here?”

  “I own this place. Remember?” His smile was edged with friendly mockery.

  Don’t remind me. “I just meant that I’m surprised to see you.”

  Understatement of the year.

  “Nice to see you again too, Kinsley.” He sauntered over to where she was standing and extended a hand out to Elena. “Hi, I’m Damon St. James, the new owner of The Harbor Light.”

  Elena stood a little straighter as she shook his hand. “Oh, so nice to meet you. If we’d known you were stopping by, we would have had coffee and bagels waiting for you.”

  “How very thoughtful,” he said, shooting his dazzling grin her way. “Thank you. But for the record, this isn’t just a ‘stopping by’ kind of visit.”

  Kinsley frowned. “Oh? Does that mean you’ll be here all morning?”

  “Not quite.”

  “All…day?”

  “You’re getting warmer.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “Well, why don’t you just tell us what your plans are, Mr. St. James? As you can see, we’re all dying to know.”

  He let out a chuckle at her sarcasm but quickly composed himself. “I’ll be in town for at least the next few months to oversee things here,” he said, picking up his briefcase. “Now. Would you kindly show me to an office I can use?”

  Kinsley’s mind whirled as she tried to get her bearings. Wait. Did he say he’d be staying here for a few months? Damon St. James was not going back to New York like he had planned. The fact that he was spending time here, observing and digging into the hotel’s day-to-day business, didn’t sit well with her—for a variety of embarrassing reasons.

  “Mr. St. James can use your dad’s old office, Kinsley,” Elena offered. “We haven’t done anything with it since he passed. Besides the cleaning staff storing paper towel rolls there, Colette is the only one who occasionally uses it.”

  Kinsley felt a slight stab of betrayal from Elena for suggesting someone like Damon St. James use her father’s office. But Elena wasn’t aware that his company was thinking of closing down the hotel—or that he was the man she’d met at her friend’s wedding. And as much as Kinsley hated to admit it, Elena was right. It was extra office space that was just going to waste.

  Kinsley pasted on a polite smile that felt extra tight against her cheeks. “Of course. Mr. St. James, I’ll show you the way.”

  She heard Damon let out another chuckle as he followed her through a large doorway just behind the front desk and then down a narrow corridor, where unfortunately the gold carpet was fraying and the walls looked to be in need of a good paint job. She really wished she’d known he was coming so she could have spruced things up a bit.

  The door to the office was already propped open. She flicked on the lights and gestured for him to make himself comfortable, which she only did out of good upbringing and because he was her boss. Although Damon seemed the kind of man who was used to doing exactly as he pleased without any encouragement from anyone, anyway.

  Wanting to leave his presence as soon as humanly possible and alert the staff, she turned on her heel to go. “I’ll leave you to get situated,” she said, charging for the door.

  “Wait a second,” he said. She stopped and turned. He was pointing at the desk with a scowl. “What’s that?”

  Kinsley looked at the desk then folded her hands. “That is Colette.”

  “Colette…” he said slowly, as if he was finally putting it together. “The same Colette who occasionally uses this office?”

  Kinsley nodded, banking down a smile that threatened to break.

  “Colette is a cat,” he said, slowly skirting the desk as if the animal were a bomb he’d been chosen to defuse.

  “Yes, she is a cat,” she agreed, trying not to laugh. The devil inside her liked seeing the great Damon St. James caught off guard like this. “Wade told me not to feed her, since she’s a little overweight, but she comes by the hotel anyway and stays for a while. We’re not sure if she has owners. But she likes to come here and nap, so the staff and I kind of unofficially adopted her.”

  Damon looked at her like she was an escaped mental patient. “You keep a cat in the hotel?”

  She swallowed. “Well, she’s kind of like our mascot now. Don’t worry. We don’t let her wander the building. She stays here in the back offices until she wants out again. She won’t bother you.” Unless you’re allergic. Kinsley could only hope. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Mr. St. James, I have work to get back to.”

  Kinsley turned away, only for Damon to call out to her again.

  “You know,” he said, waving a finger at her, “you can skip the Mr. St. James stuff. I’m not such a formal supervisor. And I think we know each other well—extremely well—enough for you to call me Damon.” He grinned. Then, like it was an afterthought, he added, “Please.”

  Kinsley tensed. She wasn’t even sure wh
y. Maybe because he seemed to be laying on the charm rather thickly, or maybe it was the please part that got to her. It made him sound too human, and she didn’t want to think of him like that. She supposed he had a point, though. There was no reason for her to pretend they were formal strangers—especially since that night at Lori’s wedding—as much as she wished it to be true. But keeping the formalities meant keeping up the pretense that nothing had happened between them, and that made her feel…safe and in control. It was much safer to keep him at a distance and hate him than remember the kinder side she’d seen of him. After all, he wasn’t here at the hotel to do her any favors. Only help himself and his company.

  “Of course. Whatever you want,” she said evenly.

  His lips curved. “Just yesterday you wanted me out of your way. Now it’s whatever I want?” With an unreadable look in those gorgeous blue eyes, he took a step toward her.

  Had he always been so tall? Her heart lurched, and as his eyes boldly raked over her, she took a step back, bumping her rear into the doorjamb.

  “Um, right. Well, I need to go,” she said, sounding as breathy as an asthmatic. She swallowed and rubbed her elbow. Suddenly she had a hard time breathing and her cheeks felt unbearably hot. “I have a meeting with the Chamber. The Chamber of Commerce of Cape Harmony. They’re very punctual. Well, most of the time.”

  She was rambling. There was a weird charge in the air because of his closeness. Memories of him kissing her on the dance floor came flooding back. But that was when she wasn’t acting like her normal boring self. When she was trying to be someone else.

  He narrowed his eyes. “I understand. But stop by my office after your meeting, when you have a free moment. We definitely need to talk.”

  Talk? That’s what he wanted? For some crazy reason, he had looked as if he wanted to kiss her. Which was ridiculous. He was her boss. And why would she even be thinking that he wanted to kiss her? He was just an awful, money-thirsty human being who…unfortunately by all definitions was…

  Still a hottie.

  Now she was thinking about how handsome he was. What was wrong with her head? The subtle woodsy scent of his cologne was acting like a drug, seeping into her central nervous system and obviously making her hallucinate.

  “Um, sure.” She willed herself to return a smile. “We can talk. Talk is good. We’ll talk. Absolutely.”

  She hightailed it out of the office before he could call her back a third time or before she said the word talk a fourth time. Based on that weird little reaction she just had, any more time spent with him seemed like a very bad idea. But she couldn’t avoid him forever, especially with his office just down the hall from hers. She knew that much. However, if she had any say whatsoever in the matter, their talk would come later. Much later. She would need that time to prepare for their next encounter and get her managerial head on straight.

  …

  Damon rubbed a hand over the top of his head as he reviewed The Harbor Light expenses from the past year. Good grief, it was worse than he’d thought.

  Reservations had been down last year. A terrible sign, considering the weather and overall summer events along the shore had been some of the best they’d had in quite a few years. Whoever Wade had hired as manager before Kinsley hadn’t done much to inspire banquet functions or even meeting room bookings. And if he had to wager a short guess, that person may have even been skimming money off the food budget as well.

  The hotel was understaffed, but with the finances the way they currently were, Wade and the previous general manager hadn’t made a move to invest more money into hiring and seemed to have let things continually slide down an inevitable sinking hole. Between the monthly income barely being able to cover its operations and the mortgage debt payments he’d inherited when his father passed, it was no wonder Wade had been so desperate to sell. Wade had his own career as a veterinarian, which probably kept his hands full. Though it could in no way compare to Kinsley’s feelings about the hotel, he was sure Wade must have been disappointed to lose a part of his past, too.

  Although Damon wished he could be so lucky as to lose a part of his own.

  He shut down the computer and stretched, frowning when he finally noticed the time. Two thirty. No wonder he was so hungry. About to get up, his gaze caught sight of the cat still lying across his desk. She was spread out on her side like a Roman goddess about to be fed grapes. And she was glaring at him.

  “What?” he asked. “I tried. I’m not the bad guy for once. This wasn’t any of my doing. Blame their father.”

  The cat continued its accusing stare.

  “Fine. Think what you want. I’m just doing my job.” He stood and turned his back to the cat. Sheesh. Not even a full day in and he was already having one-sided conversations with the hotel mascot. Nice. He rubbed his jaw.

  Speaking of conversations…

  He had told Kinsley he’d wanted to speak with her and she’d never shown up. Why was he even surprised? With her defiant attitude and her Scarlet O’Hara-like obsession with holding on to the hotel, she was making his work here a challenge. That tight little skirt she was parading around in made it a challenge, too, not to mention those killer high heels that had her legs looking about eight feet long. He hadn’t noticed them under all that pink puffy material of a bridesmaid dress she’d worn when they’d first met. All he had noticed that night was how sad her eyes had been despite her need to show the world the exact opposite. He was immediately drawn to it. To her. After all, he knew about facades too well. He hid a lot of guilt over his brother. He wondered what Kinsley tried to hide.

  Unfortunately, he wondered about Kinsley period. A lot. More than any boss should about an employee.

  And as much as she could barely tolerate his existence, she seemed a little nervous around him, too. Maybe it was time to let her off the hook and set the record straight about what had happened that night of the wedding. Clear the sexual tension in the air, so to speak. After that, their working together wouldn’t be an issue for her anymore. More importantly, once they talked it out like adults, she’d become less of a late-night fantasy for him as well. He’d stop thinking about her full mouth or how crazy-sexy her laugh was.

  Just as his thoughts about the pretty brunette were about to go down a naughty route, his cell phone went off. He cringed when he saw the number. Alec Dunleavy was an attorney and one of the board members of the St. James Organization. He was an arrogant guy about Damon’s age who graduated from Brown and had an uncanny tendency to suck up to his father.

  “St. James here,” he answered.

  “St. James is where exactly?” Alec asked by way of greeting. “Your secretary mentioned something about being at the Jersey Shore. Give Snooki my regards.”

  Damon’s jaw tensed. Three sentences in and his tolerance for Alec had already run its limit. “I’m flattered that you’re keeping tabs on me, Alec. But I believe that kind of thing is only reserved for my father and quite possibly my future wife.” As if I’d ever get married. “Is there something specific you needed?”

  “Yes,” Alec said tersely. “As a matter of fact, I’m doing your father a favor. He wanted a report on that little seaside hotel you bought, and he also wanted to know if you made any leeway on that casino acquisition in Atlantic City.”

  “I’m here at the hotel now. Tell him I’ll set up a conference call at the end of the month and report then. I’m still going over figures. And I haven’t heard anything about the casino yet.”

  “Tsk, tsk, Damon. Both should have been taken care of by now. Letting your dad down again, I see.”

  “Go to hell.”

  Alec chuckled. “Look, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m only repeating what I’ve heard through the grapevine. But it’s not only your father who’s disappointed with your recent dealings. The hotel and bar in San Diego, the water park in Florida, and now this. The board is beginning to question whether you have what it takes to run things when your father steps down.”

 
; “My father does not have intentions of stepping down anytime soon.”

  “Well, the board likes to think ahead. It’s called strategic planning. Just because you’re the only surviving heir doesn’t mean we’ll just hand you over the title. Especially if the board feels there is a candidate who could potentially do a much better job.”

  Damon scoffed. “Like who? You?”

  “Well, I won’t presume to read the board’s mind.”

  But I’m sure you’ll influence it. “Thanks for the message. Now I know you have contracts to create and fine print to hide, so I won’t keep you. Tell my father I’ll be in touch soon.”

  Damon disconnected the call with an irritated tap of his thumb. He wasn’t usually one for letting people get under his skin, but Alec Dunleavy managed to succeed every time. That’s because he knew Damon’s Achilles heel: his father.

  Damon had tried over the years to gain his father’s approval, to make him happy. To make it up to him…somehow. But he seemed to always come up short in anything he tried. Ever since the night of his brother’s accident, his parents had never looked at him the same. Carson’s death eventually took a toll on their parents’ already unhappy marriage, and they divorced while Damon was in college. Something else he was sure his father blamed on him.

  Damon ran a hand over his face, gathering his emotions before any of the staff saw him. Namely Kinsley Roberts. Not that she was planning to rush over to his office anytime soon to see how he was doing. No, he was sure she couldn’t care less. She was definitely in avoidance mode. Smart woman.

  But still… He wondered if she ever thought about the kiss they’d shared that night on the dance floor. He sure had. Unfortunately. Damon had had every intention of saying good night and heading back to his hotel room alone that night. After all, Kinsley seemed a nice woman. Smart. Beautiful. She checked off all the boxes of someone he’d be interested in. She was also a woman who, despite her broken engagement, still dreamed of a white wedding someday.