This time, he was ready for her when she ducked into the throng. If his stint as a goalie had taught him anything, it was how to anticipate an opponent’s moves.
“Then I’m damn well right behind you.” And what a fine designer-clad behind it was.
AN HOUR LATER, Lainie still couldn’t shake the determined company of Nico Cesare.
They’d intercepted Bram Hawthorne and had just finished helping smuggle him into the hotel. Thankfully, they’d managed to do so without losing the actor’s shirt or his limbs despite the urgent tugging of relentless fans. With Bram and his personal crew of assistants already on their way up to their private suites, Lainie headed toward the main desk only to realize the rapid click of her footsteps was echoed by the quiet thump of worn leather loafers behind her.
She whirled around to face him, only to be taken aback all over again by how his long, muscular body and wickedly dark eyes made her pulse flutter. Even celebrated actor Bram Hawthorne’s good looks took a back seat to this man’s raw masculinity. At least in Lainie’s opinion, which she realized might have been influenced by the most electrifying kiss of her whole life.
Gathering her wits, she knew the sooner she sent away big, gorgeous male distractions the better off she’d be. Her judgment in men had a hideous track record. No, her judgment in men didn’t just have a record. It had a rap sheet.
“I appreciate your help with our new guest.” She smiled tightly, wishing she had never picked up a bottle of bourbon tonight. Her head throbbed with the stress of the day. “But I can take things from here.”
She could already hear shouts for her attention from the registration desk. She had a thousand other things she needed to take care of before bed tonight, and none of them involved Nico.
“Why don’t I stick around and see how things are going in the kitchen? Giselle asked me to make sure the new chef—”
He was cut off by the arrival of her big, burly concierge, an endlessly tall Cuban man with heavy horn-rimmed glasses and an accent to die for when he wasn’t shouting over top of people.
“Ms. Reynolds!”
Even Nico backed up a step at the man’s raised voice, which wasn’t loud as much as very well projected.
Still, she didn’t appreciate being interrupted. Especially when she was just about to explain to her sexy-as-sin companion why they couldn’t work elbow to elbow like this.
She quirked an eyebrow in Dante Alvaro’s direction, not trusting herself to speak. Rumor had it she’d scared off a few of the employees at Club Paradise in their first year of business, and while she didn’t think rock-solid Dante would be easily intimidated, she didn’t wish to blow her stack in such a public forum.
“Sorry for interrupting you, Lainie.” His sour expression didn’t look in the least sorry. Dante was usually a very charming man, dazzling the guests with his well-connected sleight of hand as he provided primo tickets and dinner reservations. Today, however, he looked positively grim. “But I knew you’d want to be informed immediately that the new chef quit an hour ago.”
No. No. Nooo.
Lainie closed her eyes, fending off a mixture of stress headache, hangover and dangerous levels of frustration threatening to explode. Her well-run hotel was suddenly splitting at the seams, making her feel like an amateur. God, she hated that.
Nico cleared his throat, edging his way into the conversation with his broad shoulders and his cute butt that should have left an hour ago. “You can hire someone temporary in the morning while you conduct a new search, right? You must have résumés still on file after hiring this woman.”
“We have Hollywood royalty in the hotel. They’re probably already phoning in room-service orders for green M&M’s only and organically grown vegetables prepared according to their latest diet specifications. I don’t think even Giselle would have been ready to cook according to the Sugar Busters plan, so I’m damn sure that some culinary temp worker isn’t going to have a clue how to handle all the specialty orders.”
If she was hoping Dante would contradict her with some good news, her hopes were dashed when he began shaking his dark, bald head. “We already had over fifty special orders for breakfast tomorrow when I left the kitchen an hour ago.”
Exasperation draining her of ideas, Lainie peered around the lobby and noticed more people who were obviously Californians crowding the reception area. They were easy to spot with their neat manicures and tans that were probably misted onto their perfect bodies. Cell phones were already ringing in cheerful time like an AT&T symphony.
“I thought these people weren’t supposed to arrive for another three days.” She would have had security in place by then. And she most definitely wouldn’t have shown up on site with a few shots of bourbon muddling her brain and a sexy hockey player muddling her hormones.
Dante’s deep brown eyes darted around the busy lobby, exchanging some unspoken message with his assistant currently manning the concierge’s desk. “There was a hurricane in the Texas gulf that upset the location shooting schedule so they decided to visit Club Paradise early.”
“You realize I’m so screwed?” For once she had no idea what to do, no clue who to call to straighten out this mess. This should all have been Giselle’s department, damn it. She might have resigned her position as executive chef to pursue true love, but she still maintained an active share in the ownership of the resort. “We need to contact Giselle.”
“Wait.” Nico’s voice halted her in her scramble for her cell phone.
Could the man be any more presumptuous, insinuating himself into her crisis?
“Nico, I really need to take care of this now.” She felt Dante’s keen gaze on her and knew if she didn’t handle this carefully, the news of her odd friendship with Nico Cesare would be whispered all over the hotel.
“I agree.” Nico nodded slowly, as if he’d just reached a grave decision. “But Giselle has been unreachable for nearly two days so she must be in some really godforsaken country at the moment.”
So much for her great plan. She banged the cell phone slowly against her forehead, willing a solution to flash into her empty brain while Dante excused himself to get back to his desk.
“I know what we can do.” Nico slid the phone out of her hand between forehead thunks.
We? Still, she couldn’t afford to waste time arguing while her business reputation teetered on the brink of disaster.
“And that is?” She didn’t care where the ideas came from as long as they came.
“I’ll cook.” He announced it with so much authority, a stranger to the resort would almost believe he had the decision-making power here.
Arrogant man.
“What do you mean you’ll cook?” Was he insane? “You’re not even a chef.”
“Where do you think Giselle got all her best recipes?”
“Gee, I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes. “Culinary school, maybe? It would make sense since she’s a chef and you’re a hockey coach.” After yanking her phone out of his hands, she stuffed it back in her purse. She would speed dial Brianne and Summer for an emergency conference call in a minute, but first she needed to send Nico back home where he wouldn’t make ridiculous suggestions about how to run her business.
Where he wouldn’t be a constant reminder that she’d let her hair down with a man for the first time in forever, and she was already paying the price for her carelessness.
“And I suppose you’re going to do the cooking for all the eccentric eaters on your property tonight?” He looked her up and down as if he