Was he?
Connor knew better than to mix business and pleasure.
Knew better than to let anything cloud his judgment.
Yet there he had been last night, having dinner with her family and kissing her, and this morning, driving her and her children to school. Listening to her most intimate problems. Offering unsolicited advice!
“And what’s with the clothes, anyway?” Skip demanded as his glance swept Connor’s T-shirt and jeans. “You heading out on someone’s boat or something?”
He shrugged and said casually, “I was planning to see if I could help Kristy.” Which was another anomaly, as Connor knew nothing about the kinds of tasks she was doing. If he needed something fixed, he simply hired someone to do it for him. Kristy was a lot more hands-on.
“Good plan.” Skip nodded approvingly. He leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially, “Infiltrating the enemy camp.”
Connor and Skip had been friends for years, and business partners for the last fifteen. They’d enjoyed many a success together, Skip doing the business analysis and Connor working with all the parties to soothe the rough edges and get the deals implemented. Until now, Connor had appreciated Skip’s ability to keep his emotions out of any work situation. This time it was different. Maybe because for the first time someone stood to get hurt by what they were proposing. And Skip seemed either not to comprehend that or not to care. “She’s not our enemy,” Connor said flatly. He drained the last of his coffee and found it as cold and flat as his mood.
“She is if she won’t sell to the group we’ve put together,” Skip warned.
Connor was silent.
Beginning to look as upset with the situation as Connor was, Skip leaned forward and warned, “You’re not for one minute forgetting we’ve spent the past five months putting this project together or that we each stand to make a fortune from the deal, are you?”
No, Connor wasn’t forgetting that.
The problem was, he realized with a weary sigh, he couldn’t seem to forget Kristy Neumeyer, either. And that made it awfully darn hard to push on with a business proposition he knew she not only loathed, but was also resisting with every fiber of her being.
Chapter Four
When Harry Bowles returned from his shopping expedition, he was wearing a pair of loose-fitting trousers, a short-sleeved shirt and sneakers. He’d added a souvenir cap that said Folly Beach across the front, and he looked a lot more relaxed as he and Kristy sat down in her office to go over the work she had slated. Kristy took two bottles of water from her office fridge and handed him one. “I hate to tell you this, Harry,” she said as she sat down behind her desk, “but we’ve really got our work cut out for us if we want to be ready for that insurance agents convention next week.”
Harry smiled, unperturbed. “I’m used to hard work.”
Kristy was glad to hear it. “If you don’t mind my asking, what exactly did your duties as Winnifred Deveraux-Smith’s butler include?”
Harry unscrewed the lid to his water and drank sparingly. “A little bit of everything, as it happens,” he said rather formally. “I arranged parties, oversaw the household help that came in to cook and clean, dealt with the decorators and handymen that were hired for various tasks. I even managed Winnifred’s social calendar until her aunt Eleanor came in and took over those duties.”
It sounded as if he was a flexible guy, willing to take on whatever needed to be accomplished.
Kristy frowned. Here came the hard part. “Well, we don’t have maids yet and probably won’t for another week or two, so for the moment all those duties are going to fall to the two of us.” She paused, not sure how this was going to go, and regarded him seriously. “Are you up to that?” Because if not, he was not the man for the job, after all.
“Absolutely.” Looking ready for action, Harry put the cap back on his water bottle. “What do you need me to do today?”
Kristy rose and escorted him out, past the reservation desk to the center of the lodge. “Well, as you can see the lobby, club room, kitchen and dining room are in fine shape. So is the exterior of the hotel now, and all the cottages, and the apartment on the second floor of the south side of the building where my daughters and I reside. But all four wings of guest rooms are in need of a lot of TLC,” she warned, knowing he was in for a shock there. “We only need one wing for the conference next week, but all twenty-five rooms have got to be stripped and cleaned and put back together again, before next Wednesday. Actually, Tuesday, since the guests will be arriving Wednesday before noon, and we don’t want to still be doing any of that when they get here.”
“Sounds doable,” Harry said. “Where would you like me to begin?”
“I’d like you to take down all the draperies in the rooms. They’re going to need to be laundered. And the same goes for all the bed linens, including blankets and bedspreads.” Still not entirely sure that Harry wasn’t going to change his mind and bolt when he grasped the gargantuan task ahead, Kristy led him down a short hall to the big laundry room, where a half-dozen large commercial washers and dryers lined the walls. Kristy made her way over to a canvas cart. “You can put the linens in this and then bring them back here, and begin washing them.”
“Which rooms will I be stripping?” Harry asked, as he pushed the cart out into the hall.
“One hundred to one twenty-five. I’ll be working in the same wing. I’m going to start on the bathrooms.” Kristy handed him the maid’s set of room keys.
“Right-o, madam.”
Kristy stopped in her tracks, figuring they might as well get this cleared up right now. “And, Harry?”
He paused. “Yes, madam?”
“You’ve got to start calling me by my first name,” she insisted.
“Oh. Right. Kristy.” He smiled at her. She smiled back. He began pushing the linen cart again as the front door of the lobby swung open and Connor Templeton walked in. He was dressed as he had been earlier that morning, in a T-shirt and jeans. Kristy’s shoulders tensed, even as her heart took a little leap. She should not be so glad to see him. Particularly after the way they had parted a few hours ago….
Harry looked at her, the polite, formal butler again. “Would you like me to see what the gentleman wants, mad—er, Kristy?”
She shook her head. “I’ll handle Mr. Templeton.” She pointed in the direction of the north wing. “You go ahead and get started.”
Kristy crossed the lobby. Unsure whether it was excitement or annoyance speeding up her pulse, she noted dryly, “Like a bad penny, you keep turning up.”
“Ha, ha.” Smoky-gray eyes twinkling, he strode over to her. Before she could do anything to stop him, he curved a possessive hand about her elbow and leaned over to kiss her cheek in that casual Southern style of greeting he favored. Kristy knew it didn’t mean anything—Connor probably kissed dozens of female cheeks in the course of a single day as he said hello to women he knew—but she couldn’t keep her face from tingling at the soft-as-a-butterfly touch of his lips. Or keep from thinking how those same lips had felt—so sure and so right—over hers the night before, as they had ended the evening in a way that had felt anything but casual.
“So? What’s going on around here today?” Connor asked, as he stepped back.
“We’re working.” Or about to start, Kristy amended silently. “What did you need?”
Connor looked deep into her eyes. “I thought maybe we could go for coffee,” he suggested softly.
And darned if she didn’t want to forget everything and just go. “I don’t