He straightened and let her go, studying her face. ‘Don’t look so scared.’ He rested his butt against the kitchen’s central aisle, folded his arms across his chest. ‘Joey’s my five-year-old godson. He sleeps over sometimes when Stella and Monty, his mom and dad, need a babysitter. Who did you think he was?’
‘I just wondered,’ she said, looking down at her toes, faint with relief. She forced a smile. ‘You don’t strike me as the babysitting type.’
‘There’s not a lot of babysitting involved.’ He smiled, the dimple winking at her again. How had she missed that yesterday? ‘I’m a total pushover. Joey calls all the shots. Hence the Pop Tarts. If Stella knew about those we’d both be toast. She’s like the sugar police.’As he spoke his face softened and his voice deepened with affection. He obviously adored the little boy and his parents.
This was a facet of him Kate never would have imagined. It made him seem almost as sweet as the Pop Tarts all of a sudden. Why the discovery should make her stomach tighten and her breathing become even more rapid she couldn’t guess.
‘So how about I order waffles?’ He arched an eyebrow, looking more dangerous than sweet. ‘We can get to the deadly sins we missed last night while we wait.’
She laughed, feeling pretty dangerous herself. ‘Did we miss any?’
He stepped back to her, his enticing male scent enveloping her as he brushed a knuckle across her cheek. ‘I bet I can find a few.’
‘Hmm.’ She considered him, holding her tongue between her teeth. ‘I’d love to take that bet,’ she said.
His hand dropped from her face as he grinned. He looked so delicious, it was almost indecent how much she wanted to take him up on his offer. Disappointment covered the fire in her belly like a wet blanket. ‘But unfortunately, I’ve only got fifteen minutes before I have to meet with your housekeeping manager, Mrs Oakley.’
To think she was going to be making beds all morning when she could have been tearing up the sheets with Zack Boudreaux. She’d had her one night of bliss, and now reality was back with a vengeance.
A line formed across his brow. ‘Why are you meeting Pat?’
‘I think it’s just a formality.’ She shrugged, turned to pour herself a cup of coffee. Looking at his bare chest was only adding to her misery. ‘I filled out the forms yesterday afternoon.’ She put the pot down, recalling the brief phone conversation she’d had with Patricia Oakley and the reams of paperwork that had been sent to her suite.
‘What forms?’
She pulled a cup out of the cabinet, placed it on the surface with a sharp click. ‘I couldn’t find any milk—will black do?’
‘I said, what forms?’
She looked at him over her shoulder, her eyes widening at his flat tone.
She turned round. ‘The employment forms, all two thousand of them.’ Cradling the mug of coffee in both hands, she blew on it, inhaled the delicious coffee scent. ‘Mrs Oakley’s going to sort out my social security number for me. It’s a good thing Andrew didn’t take my American passport with him. Or I really would have been up the creek.’ She took a quick sip. It might smell like coffee, but it tasted like water. She wrinkled her nose. ‘No offence,’ she said lightly, ‘but American coffee is disgusting.’
‘Why were you filling out employment forms for Pat?’
She frowned. Why was he behaving as if she were talking in a foreign language?
‘Because I’m going to work here—why else?’She narrowly avoided adding a Duh! It didn’t seem appropriate any more. The teasing mood of a moment before had disappeared.
His brows drew together in a forbidding line.
‘We talked about it, yesterday in your office, remember?’ Kate prompted. ‘You said you were going to ring her about it.’
‘Yeah, but I didn’t call her.’
‘I know you didn’t,’ Kate said, shifting uncomfortably against the hard marble.
She’d felt pretty foolish the day before when she’d mentioned his name to the housekeeping manager. He owned the hotel, for goodness’ sake, of course he didn’t concern himself with trifles. Still, she’d been oddly hurt when Mrs Oakley had told her she hadn’t been contacted by Mr Boudreaux, especially after getting his dinner invitation.
‘It’s all right,’ she said with a brightness she didn’t quite feel. ‘I sorted it out myself. Turns out two of the maids quit last week so Mrs Oakley was more than happy when I—’
‘You’re not working here.’ He interrupted her.
‘I..? Excuse me?’ Had she heard him correctly? She couldn’t have.
‘Kate…’ his voice softened a little ‘…I’ve got a strict rule against sleeping with women who work for me.’
‘Oh.’ The flush working its way up her neck made her feel foolish and more than a little hurt. She hadn’t realised how much she’d been looking forward to continuing their fling. She blinked, determined not to let her sadness at the dismissal show. Of course he’d only been looking for a one-night deal. So had she. When had she started thinking it could be anything else?
‘I understand,’ she said, concentrating on a space above his shoulder. She noticed the clock on the wall behind him and saw her get-out clause. She needed to leave before she embarrassed herself any further. ‘Well, it’s been fun, Zack,’ she said, putting her mug down on the counter. ‘But I really should be going. Mrs Oakley will be waiting.’ She gave him what she hoped was an unconcerned smile. ‘I don’t want to be late my first day on the job.’
She went to walk past him, but his fingers closed over her arm, stopping her dead.
‘You’re not listening to me, Kate.You’re not working here.’
She gawped at him. ‘Yes, I am,’ she said carefully. What was he on about?
‘No, you’re not,’ he said, the definite edge to his voice starting to worry her. ‘You don’t have to now.’
‘Of course, I do. I need the money.’
His jaw went rigid. ‘I gave you five hundred dollars. If that’s not enough, say so.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ She crossed her arms over her chest, trying to hold back her own temper. ‘I don’t want you to give me any more money. The more I take, the more I’ll have to pay back.’ Why was he being deliberately dense? ‘I left four of the hundreds you gave me in the living room, by the way. Mrs Oakley was nice enough to say she’d sort out a proper advance in a couple of days. When I—’
‘What are you talking about?’
She stiffened. Why was he so irritated?
He twisted away, shoving his fingers through his hair and combing it into unruly furrows. Frustration snapped in the air around him before he gave a long-suffering sigh and turned back. ‘You say you need money.’ He said the words slowly, surely, as if he were talking to a dim-witted child. ‘I gave you money. Why are you giving it back to me?’
‘Because it’s not my money,’ she shot back, annoyed at having to state the obvious. ‘It’s yours.’
‘So what? It’s only five hundred bucks. I don’t want it back.’
‘But I thought that was the advance we’d talked about.’
‘What advance?’ he said, holding his palms up in exasperation before slapping them down on the sideboard.