Dane was well aware that her father treated her like shit and that he’d given her only six months to prove to him that she could run this place and show a profit—a mammoth undertaking after years of mismanagement had nearly run Mirage into bankruptcy.
Getting Mirage for himself was the main goal, but besting the arrogant bastard who treated his daughter like some bothersome employee was going to be icing on the proverbial cake. Victory was always sweet but victory over assholes was just plain fun. Dane was willing to admit he wasn’t exactly an angel himself, but at least he was a smart and careful devil.
Dane left his bag in his suite, taking only a moment to admire the open view and spacious room. The wall of windows made it seem like he was suspended above Gold Valley. The curved pool was just as inviting as he recalled.
Later he would fully take in the beauty of the room his mother had designed. The stone fireplace, the balcony, the high beams stretching across the ceiling.
For now, though, memories would have to wait. He had a woman to find.
* * *
“What do you mean he didn’t show up?”
Stella Garcia attempted to tamp down the migraine that threatened to further sour her already stressful, overloaded day. She stared at one of the hostesses for their main dining area and Stella thought for sure the poor girl was going to burst into tears.
Tears solved nothing—a life lesson Stella had learned from the start. Her mother had died after complications giving birth, ultimately leaving Stella with the most unloving father.
For reasons Stella still tried to wrap her mind around, she wanted his approval—craved it even. Would do anything to earn it, even if that meant taking on impossible tasks.
Which was how she found herself in the current situation—running a top-tier resort with a crowd of hungry patrons about to descend for dinner...and no cook.
Maybe if she’d had her mother, maybe if she’d had just one parent who pretended to actually care...
“He called and said he quit, effective immediately,” the hostess said, nervously tucking her short blond hair behind her ear. “He said something about moving back home to his wife in Oregon.”
Stella pulled in a deep breath and wished she could fast-forward to midnight when she could go up to her suite, pop open the prosecco and unwind.
Unfortunately, at this rate, she didn’t even know if she’d get to bed tonight. All-nighters were depressingly common with this job. Some days were certainly more difficult than others, but she had to keep reminding herself that she’d inherited a mess from the previous manager and her father thought her incapable of fixing it. Those were two highly motivational reasons to prove to the whole damn world that she could and would make Mirage the greatest, most talked about resort on the globe.
“Our guests will start rolling in within an hour,” she stated, tapping her finger on her chin as she thought out loud. “I’ll need to see if there’s anything already prepped or if we have to start from scratch. I know zilch about cooking.”
But she could make a spreadsheet on the financial analytics of nearly any type of business and never break a sweat. She actually loved business and numbers. Damn, she was such a nerd. Too bad her hobbies hadn’t included donning an apron and sizzling steaks.
Her young hostess shook her head. “I burn Pop-Tarts, so don’t look at me.”
If Stella had the time, she’d call up her now ex-chef and verbally shred him. But using her energy to get angry wouldn’t solve their problem. For now, she simply had to push that employee out of her mind because at this point, he was irrelevant.
Really, it was better that he was gone. She didn’t want anyone working for her who wasn’t loyal. There was no room for mistrust or laziness, especially when she was on the verge of getting Mirage back on its feet and finally taking charge of her own life.
“Maybe Martha could help,” the girl suggested.
Stella shook her head. “No, she’s off because her sister is getting married. Damn it. She would’ve been able to salvage this evening. She’s an amazing chef. I don’t even think Raul is coming in until Friday. I may have to call him in because we are in a bind. But I doubt he’d get here in time.”
Employees’ names raced through her mind. It was hard to think of any options. The kitchen staff had the perfect rhythm down and worked like clockwork...well, they did until someone decided to up and quit. But the synchronicity meant no one really stood out as someone who could be trusted to take over the kitchen, even just for one night.
“Okay,” Stella stated as she tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “We can do this. There’s a logical solution, I just have to figure it out.”
“Excuse me?”
Stella jerked her attention to the double wooden doors leading to the bar and private seating area. She was about to say they weren’t open yet, but her words died in her throat.
Hello, cowboy.
That charcoal-and-red-plaid shirt tucked into well-worn jeans did nothing to hide the beautifully muscled bulk of the mystery man in the doorway. Those shoulders stretched the material of his shirt and his silver belt buckle shone with some emblem she couldn’t quite make out.
Well, she could if she wanted to get caught staring at his junk, which wouldn’t really be the classiest move. Not to mention it would be totally unprofessional of her since he was a guest...and likely here with his significant other.
Shame, that. This man might be worth the risk of forgetting her duties and obligations, but she preferred her men to be available...unlike the jerk who thought she was his ticket into the family money—and that she was too dumb to uncover that he actually had a girlfriend with a kid on the way.
Yeah, no thanks, asshole.
Stella pulled her mind from the nauseating memory and opted to focus on the living fantasy standing in the doorway.
But that man would just have to stay a fantasy—along with every other man for the time being—because anything or anyone taking up her time would mean failing at her job, and her father was just waiting for one little slipup to sell this place out from under her. Her sole focus had to be on Mirage.
Smoothing down her button-up shirt-style dress, Stella took a step toward the striking man with dark eyes. “Our dining room doesn’t open for another hour. Did you need to make a reservation?”
Which he totally should, because there was plenty of divine food prepared by an experienced chef. Part of Stella wanted to laugh at the snarky comment inside her head, because she’d realized over the past few months that if she didn’t laugh, she’d have a nervous breakdown.
But at this moment, she worried that her laughter might border on manic or deranged. She was so, so close to getting what she wanted. There was no way she’d let a rogue chef thwart her plans.
“I couldn’t help but overhear that you’re in a bind.”
That whiskey-soaked voice had her shivering and the vivid fantasy she’d tried to push to the back of her mind kept rushing to the front. Wasn’t there some resort rule about lusting after a guest? After all, this was an adults-only resort so he probably wasn’t here alone. A man who looked like that likely never slept alone...while she knew no other way.
Oh, she wasn’t innocent, but she never stayed the night in someone’s bed, and over the past year she’d barely dragged herself into hers. She’d been working her ass off for her father, wanting to gain his approval, wanting...hell, something from him other than disdain.
Getting Mirage running like a dream was her last chance at some