Stocking Stuffer, page 11
Denver’s grip tightened on his phone as he sensed the danger of losing out on the investment. It was ridiculous. Being a damn bachelor should’ve been an advantage, not a liability.
“I keep my personal life rather private,” he hedged as he ran through a dozen scenarios of what to say. His gaze settled on a pair of women who passed by him, both shooting coy smiles his way. An idea leapt into his mind.
“I do have a serious girlfriend, Jack. But I have kept it quiet. In fact, I was planning to propose to her this week.”
“Oh? We hadn’t heard—” Hudson began.
“Like I said, I keep my life private. After what happened to my father, you can’t blame me.”
“That’s true. I’m sorry I asked. It’s important to us, that’s all. I really need to know you’re a team player, in for the long haul. A good relationship can show that.”
“Yeah.” Denver couldn’t believe it. He had to find a woman he could talk into posing as his girlfriend, pull off a quick proposal, and then keep up the pretense until contracts were signed. After that, he and his “fiancée” could have a change of heart.
“Well, it’s settled, then. We’ll be on Paradise Island next week. I’ll have my assistant send you our travel information once we have it.”
“Wonderful,” Denver replied, putting all the false cheer that he could muster into the word. Thankfully, Hudson didn’t seem to notice. The moment the call ended, Denver threw his phone onto his towel and stifled a groan.
He needed to find a fake fiancée, and fast.
Chapter 2
Five days later
* * *
Blair stepped off the small shuttle bus once it parked in front of the main lodge at the Seven Seas Beach Club, and her eyes widened. The resort was even more spectacular than the pictures on the website. She’d studied Seven Seas extensively as part of her research for her campaign before she’d left Chicago. The entire complex had a loose but logical layout, with the main lodge in the center, which housed a massive dining hall, reception room, lobby, and corporate offices as a central hub. The apartments and suites were arranged in separate buildings expanding outward like the arms of a starfish. It left her with the relaxed feeling of being able to walk everywhere but not being too far away from anything.
“Welcome to the Seven Seas!” The young man left the valet station and met her by the shuttle.
“Thank you.” She stepped aside to allow the other guests to exit the vehicle.
“What’s the name on your reservation?” The man pulled out a slender tablet and opened up the active reservation list.
“Blair Ashworth.”
“Oh, yes, the Siren bungalow in the Nautilus complex. Let’s get you all signed in, and then we’ll have someone sit with you and explain the resort’s layout and amenities before taking you to your lodgings.”
She followed the man into the lobby. It was a grand circular room with white marble floors. Blue tile mosaics enhanced with brilliant gold and silver accented the lobby walls, and the domed ceiling was painted with detailed marine life. Sunlight poured through the atrium, making everything glow softly. After she checked in, she was given a silver wristband containing a waterproof chip.
“You just hold up your wristband to the black pad on your door, and it will open up. It will activate the safe in your closet as well.”
Blair studied the fancy wristband. It had to be expensive, but it was genius. Keycards got lost too easily.
“You can also upload funds into your account and use your wristband to pay for anything at the resort. Now, if you’ll follow me, I’ll get you a map and an escort to the Nautilus complex.” The man handed her a glossy foldable map and had a golf cart brought around. She and her luggage were loaded up, and the young woman in khaki shorts and a pale-blue polo shirt grinned at her from the driver’s seat.
“Nautilus?” the woman asked.
“Yep.” Blair sat in the passenger seat of the golf cart, and then it shot forward. They cruised down a gravel path beneath the palm trees.
“I’m Erica. Is this your first time here?” the driver asked.
“Yes, both at the resort and in the Bahamas. It’s so beautiful here.”
Erica chuckled. “Island living either draws a person in completely or it doesn’t attract them whatsoever. You love it or you hate it. I came here for spring break at age twenty and fell in love. I went back to college and switched my major to hospitality and hotel management. Then I graduated, got a job here, and haven’t left since except to go home to see my family on holidays.”
“Really? What about island life attracts you?” Blair asked. Erica was the perfect person to talk to for inspiration for Blair’s pitch to Denver Ramsey.
“I guess it’s that I feel closer to nature. There is a peace here that is hard to explain. Even though there are wild storms sometimes, you still feel restful here. The pace of life is slower, your stress lower. And the beauty—all the blues, golds, yellows, and whites,” Erica added thoughtfully. “Cheery but peaceful colors.”
“I noticed the hotel has a color scheme that’s limited, carefully thought out, well designed and consistent.”
Erica nodded as she took a turn in the cart, driving down another pathway. “The hotel owner had an active hand in the design. He didn’t leave a single detail out when he created this place. Every apartment has its own theme, and the overall resort was built with an intense dedication to the ocean, so the fantasy of the sea is unparalleled.”
“Could you give me an example of that?”
Erica checked her watch as she stopped in front of a series of close-set bungalows. A large sign with a nautilus shell indicated they had reached the right place.
“Be sure to schedule a dinner reservation near the aquarium at seven tonight and you’ll see. It’s worth it.”
Blair made a mental note.
“You’re in Siren, so that’s the first one here. You remember the way we came?” Erica lifted her suitcase from the golf cart.
“Yeah,” Blair assured her.
“Excellent. Well, if you need anything, call the front desk or dial zero.” With a wave, Erica headed back up the path in the golf cart, and Blair turned toward the bungalow. It was a three-room suite with a master bath and a cozy porch that faced the sea. The view was worth every penny. The privately owned beach restricted access to it, which meant only a handful of grass huts and chairs dotted the white sandy shore a quarter of a mile from her bungalow.
Blair lifted her suitcase up the three steps to the porch and activated her door lock with her wristband. Then she rolled her suitcase deeper inside and left it by the bedroom so she could admire the suite.
Sea-blue walls with white trim and classy mermaid-accented decoration pieces made Blair feel like she was fully immersed in a seascape. The white wooden bookshelves and dining room table were covered with various shells, from large conch shells to flat silver dollars. She picked up one of the larger shells, her fingertips coasting along the soft-pink inner surface of the shell’s opening. Then she placed the shell back down and explored the rest of the rooms before she came back for her suitcase. Before she started on work, she wanted to take an hour to soak up some rays on the beach.
She changed into a modest two-piece swimsuit. The bright red color looked good with her long brown hair, which she tied back to keep it from getting hopelessly windblown. Then she grabbed her sunglasses, hat, sandals, and a towel.
The walk to the beach was pleasant, and by the time she got to the white sand and slipped off her sandals, that sense of peace Erica had talked about had settled over Blair. She wriggled her toes in the pale, warm grains and let out a relaxed sigh. A light breeze cooled her skin and rippled through the fronds of the nearby palm trees. As much as she was enjoying herself, she was also making mental notes about the atmosphere of the resort property, as well as the influence of nature. Later this week, she would take some photos to add to her pitch, assuming Denver didn’t feed her to the sharks before then. The thought of Denver and his inevitable anger encroached on the peace of the beach.
The sun had sunk lower in the sky by the time she collected her towel and slipped her sandals back on. She made her way across the beach and paused to take one last look at the view of sunlight on the water before she turned back toward the resort. She drew in a calm, deep breath that seemed to fill her lungs with tranquility itself. Erica was right; now that she was here, she never wanted to leave.
As she spun around, she collided with a wall of hard muscle and stumbled back. She barely stopped herself from falling as strong hands curled around her upper arms and lifted her up to stare into Denver Ramsey’s gorgeous hazel eyes.
“My apologies.” His voice rumbled low and deliciously deep. It sent her straight into dark, delicious fantasies of him in bed and all the things he could say with that voice that would melt her into a puddle.
He didn’t know her, so he didn’t recognize her—and for that she was grateful. They had never met before, though she had always been aware of him since the day she’d seen photos of him at his father’s funeral. But unless he had stalked her online, he wouldn’t, couldn’t know her face. He would soon, and when he did, the charming smile now on his lips would twist into a hateful sneer. She couldn’t judge him for it; he had every right to hate her. Still, she had to try to win his account, for herself and her father.
“No, it was my fault. I’m so sorry,” she replied.
“The view this time of day is beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked as he released her.
“It’s stunning.” She glanced back at the water before looking at him again.
She had a moment to observe him without his notice. He wore dark-blue swim trunks and held a mask and a snorkel in his hand. His chest was bare, and his skin was golden from the sun. The masculine perfection of his physique, which had been only hinted at in the Vanity Fair pictures, was on full display now.
He wasn’t simply handsome. He was a sea god who drowned helpless women in the waves of their desperate desire for him. Blair had never imagined any man could live up to fantasies, but Denver put those fantasies to shame. And in a matter of hours, he was likely going to kill her.
“Will you be staying here at the resort long?” Denver asked her.
“What? Oh, yes, about a week. I hope.” She deliberately neglected to introduce herself. “And you?” She already knew the answer, of course, but it was better to pretend she didn’t.
“Yes,” he lied smoothly, perhaps even better than she did. For a second, she was angry with him, but logically she understood. If he went around telling everyone he was the owner of the resort, then he would be swarmed by people wanting both him and his money.
“Can I escort you somewhere?” he offered.
It was tempting—too tempting—to let herself imagine him doing just that, escorting her back to her little bungalow and what could happen if she let him get her anywhere near a bed.
A blush warmed her face, and desire flushed her body with wave after wave of heat.
“I, uh . . . no, I’ll be fine. You look like you’re headed for a swim. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.” Her skin pebbled slightly at the feel of his possessive gaze drinking her in. Her nipples hardened into points, and she knew he could see that.
Clearing his throat, he glanced down at his snorkel mask. “Oh . . . right, swimming.” Then he flashed her a dazzling smile that just about erased all rational thoughts for a good couple of seconds. “Perhaps I’ll see you later?” He raised a brow in a teasing challenge.
“Perhaps.” She couldn’t resist smiling a little at him before she walked away. Who knew she liked playing with fire? Because when he saw her later, she knew with dreadful certainty that he wouldn’t be happy about her being here, and she would definitely get burned.
Denver watched the bombshell in the red bikini saunter away and felt as though his entire body was on fire.
God, he wanted to grab her hips and feel them sway in his hold. She had some serious curves, the kind that made a man forget his name. Speaking of names, he needed to know hers.
She continued down the path to the Siren bungalow. He would have to call Simon and ask who she was. As much as he enjoyed a swim, he now had a far more intriguing prospect in front of him. He pulled his cell out of his pocket and dialed his operations manager.
“Simon, what’s my schedule this evening?”
“You have an appointment with an advertising firm. That’s at eight p.m.”
“Then reserve my table for dinner at seven and send an invitation to the Siren bungalow. I just met the occupant, and she was something.”
Simon chuckled. “Very well. I can do that.”
“Who am I meeting with this evening?”
“Let me see . . .” Denver heard a shuffling of paper, and then Simon replied, “The Bay Breeze agency?”
The feeling of elation and excitement for tonight’s dinner with the mystery brunette died. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. Why, is that a problem?”
Denver trusted Simon like a brother, but he hadn’t told him the full story about his father and who had been involved in his downfall. The company that had destroyed Denver’s life and his mother’s life had a shiny new name, but it was still run by Randall Ashworth—one of the two men who’d wrecked his father. Shock and rage tore through Denver like a riptide.
“I can cancel the meeting. Ms. Ashworth is staying for the week at the resort, but she may leave if I cancel.”
A strange ringing filled Denver’s ears. “Blair Ashworth is here? On my property?”
“Yes, let’s see. Oh . . .” The single syllable held a heaviness that Denver didn’t like.
“What is it?” He was certain he wasn’t going to like what his friend told him next.
“That woman you thought was something? In the Siren bungalow? That’s Blair Ashworth.”
“Oh, she’s something all right,” Denver nearly snarled into the phone before he regained control.
“So cancel dinner and the meeting?” Simon queried, concern clear in the softness of his words.
Denver glared at the waves rolling in. Damn the sea and its ability to calm him down when he wanted to rightfully rage.
“No.” He gave himself a moment to think. “Go ahead and keep the meeting and send the dinner invite as planned.”
“Are you sure?”
“Just do it.” Denver hung up.
Maybe he needed that swim after all. Because tonight, he was going to get a close-up view of the daughter of the man who had ruined his life, and then, when he was ready, he would send her running for the hills.
Blair got out of the shower just in time to hear someone knock on the front door of the bungalow. She hastily pulled on a robe and rushed to the front room to open the door. Erica stood there with a dark-blue envelope in her hand.
“What’s this?”
“A dinner invitation.” She beamed at Blair. “Apparently, my boss ran into you earlier, and he likes you.”
“Your boss?” Blair tried to pretend she didn’t know who Erica worked for.
“Yeah. He would like you to join him for dinner tonight. If you want to go, the details are in here.” She passed Blair the envelope. For a second, Blair almost giggled. It was like she was in middle school again, receiving notes from a boy who liked her.
“Thanks.” She watched Erica walk away before she closed the door and opened the envelope.
Miss Siren Bungalow Guest,
I hope you don’t mind the forward gesture, but I retained a private table for dinner tonight at seven and would love for you to join me this evening.
Cordially,
The man who rudely bumped into you this afternoon
Blair’s heart leapt, then stilled. Denver had invited her to dinner. He didn’t know who she was yet, but he would the second she had to tell him her full name.
She desperately wanted to have dinner with him, to see him relaxed and charming. It might give her a chance to charm him outside of a business environment so he’d be in a good mood and willing to listen to her ideas. She’d never get another chance to spend time with him like this if she didn’t seize the opportunity. But what could she say? Could she keep her true identity from him during dinner long enough to enjoy herself? If she was smart, she would leave now. Check out and catch a flight home as soon as possible. If she could pitch her campaign to him at least once, she could survive whatever came next, no matter how bad it was.
Blair set the invitation on the dining table and went to dry her hair and dress for dinner. This might be her only night here if he decided to throw her off the property, so she might as well try to enjoy it. She’d figure out a way to keep her name from him somehow, at least long enough to have dinner.
She wore a navy knee-length dress with sleeves and a pair of blue heels that were less beachy and more formal since she would be going to his office right after dinner. Even if he did toss her out, at least she would look nice. She tried to enjoy the walk to the lobby, even though she felt a bit like she was walking to her doom. The sun setting below the main building and the golden chandeliers above illuminated the entrance of the lobby and the interior. The blue, gold, and silver walls seemed almost to ripple with the light as though the lobby was underwater.
“Are you here for dinner?” a man in a hotel uniform asked her.
“Yes. I received this.” She held up the invitation.
When the man saw it, his eyes lit up. “Right this way. Your table is ready.”
