Her heels sank into the crushed shells as she took the path from the parking lot. Why on earth had she chosen three-inch heels today? Not that she had a choice. She’d caught a red-eye flight immediately after finishing up an event she couldn’t miss. It meant she’d had no time to change from her lemon-yellow linen business suit and leopard-print heels. Huffing along, she reached the wide veranda of the renovated hotel.
Initially she’d been surprised when Juliet booked the engagement party, and subsequent wedding, at this location, until her sister explained the hotel’s face-lift. The pristine white exterior with shiny black shutters fronted by a wide veranda dotted with rocking chairs promised a no-stress zone for weary guests.
As she stepped into the spacious foyer, cool air greeted her, along with some major structural improvements. The new owner had removed the old ceiling to create an open two-story masterpiece. Nealy’s breath caught. Marble floors shone as light filtered through the frosted dome ceiling. A counter nearby, also in marble, had staff waiting behind it to help the guests.
She let out a low whistle. “Not too shabby.”
Her cell phone rang. This had to be Juliet worried about her ETA. As she crossed the highly glossed lobby floor, her heels echoed. “Hold on,” she said to herself, digging through the contents of her purse, intent on finding her phone, when she bumped into a tall, solid form.
“Whoa,” a deep masculine voice said as firm hands grabbed hold of her upper arms to steady her.
“I’m so sorry,” she sputtered, pushing her hair from her eyes. “I’m in a hurry and wasn’t watching where I—” Her words stopped as she recognized the man holding her in place. Him. “Dane?” she whispered.
“Nealy. Been a long time.”
Her breathing nearly stopped as she gaped at her ex-husband, Dane Peterson.
No. This couldn’t be right, could it?
“What are you doing here?” she managed to croak out.
“I’m the owner.”
“Of what?”
“The Grand Cypress Hotel.”
Granted, running into Dane made her thinking a little fuzzy, but... “You own this hotel?”
“Yep.”
Knocked off-kilter by her first glimpse of Dane after twelve years apart, her legs became shaky. Why hadn’t anyone told her Dane owned the hotel? Probably because they figured she wouldn’t step foot in the place if she knew.
They’d have been right.
He’d aged well, exceptionally well, as evidenced by the unexpected stirring in her belly. His dark blond hair, highlighted by the sun, was cut short, a far cry from the disheveled locks he’d once sported. Whiskey-hued eyes and tanned skin portrayed the picture of a man in his prime. Even more handsome than the boy from her memories. She still remembered the lanky teen, long hair falling over his brow into his eyes, wearing T-shirts proclaiming the name of a favorite band paired with ripped jeans and sneakers. Today, a mature Dane wore navy pants and a light blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His dark shoes shone.
His masculine scent, so alluring and familiar, had her leaning toward him until she realized her mistake and blinking furiously, she took a hasty step back from the stunning man standing before her and the powerful reaction he evoked.
“How did you come to own this place?”
“It’s what I do. Rehab old or failing hotels.”
“You renovated this hotel?”
“That’s right.”
Wow. Talk about total and complete shock.
Nealy shook her head, trying to reconcile this man with the boy she’d fallen head over heels in love with. Her pulse fluttered as the intensity of his gaze made her heart race and her eyes sting.
“Welcome home, Nealy,” Dane said in a low, familiar voice.
Her initial surprise at seeing him dissipated instantly as the hurt came rushing back. Apparently twelve years hadn’t healed the wound he inflicted when he’d shattered her life that summer. He’d married her, then turned right around and filed for an annulment, dashing her hopes of them spending their lives together. The dream had turned into a nightmare, courtesy of the man standing in front of her.
“Home is L.A. now. If you’ll excuse me, my sister’s expecting me.” She needed to escape from Dane before he noticed her curt tone hiding the traces of old hurt.
“Yeah. About that. There’s a problem.”
She raised a brow. “What’s happened?”
“It’s more like who happened.”
She shook her head. “You’ve lost me.”
“Remember Angela? The hotel’s in-house event coordinator?”
“Sure. We’ve been working together on both of Juliet’s parties.”
“Not any longer.”
She jammed a hand on her hip. “And why is that?”
“She quit this morning.”
Nealy tried to keep from gaping but didn’t succeed. “What did you do to her?”
Her sharp question earned her a throaty laugh. “Me? I didn’t do anything. You, on the other hand...”
As his sentence trailed off, she protested, “I just got here.”
“It seems you were a bit too...zealous in planning Juliet’s party. To quote Angela, ‘I’ve only dealt with Nealy over the phone. How much more nerve-racking will it be having her here in person?’ Your imminent arrival sent her over the edge.”
“Hey, I’m good at my job. I can’t help it if she was overwhelmed.”
“Overwhelmed or not, I’m minus an event coordinator.”
“Thankfully I’m here for Juliet. Her parties will be wonderful despite this upset.”
“Easy for you to say. You’ll be leaving soon. I’m the one on the hook with scheduled events over the next couple of days and no coordinator.”
She tugged the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. “Figuring out these problems is all in the day of a hotel owner. I’m sure you’ll manage. Excuse me.” She took two steps when she realized she didn’t know where to find her sister. Reluctantly she turned back to Dane.
“Down the hallway,” he said and pointed. “Second door on the right.”
She headed off, but not without hearing a husky, “Good to see you.”
Ignoring the blood roaring in her ears, she hurried to the room. Bad enough the party would be at this hotel, but to run into Dane while she was home? The knots in her stomach tightened. Why couldn’t she have gotten a flat tire? Preferably somewhere in L.A. so she would have missed her flight.
Did he have to look so good? Smell so good? And why had she turned into a flustered teenager? Because the man still had a way of getting under her skin, that’s why. She pressed her hand against her roiling stomach. She’d worked with top celebrities without so much as a bat of an eye, but two minutes with Dane had her insides screaming as if she were a starstruck groupie. She would not let him get to her during her time in Cypress Pointe.
Still, Dane Peterson, owner of the Grand Cypress Hotel. Who would have thought it? And what was she going to do to avoid him?
Before she could come to any conclusions, she crossed the threshold into a large banquet room and assessed the chaos.
Juliet was pacing. Lanie, her older sister, had a box that she was rustling through, pulling out rolls of bunting