“I’M NORMALLY NOT this squeamish. I mean, I live in New York City. I’ve seen things.” But this wasn’t some scrambling little roach or scurrying sewer rat.
The maintenance man grinned. “Tarantula,” he said.
No kidding, it was a tarantula. One the size of her fist and it was clinging to the bathroom wall next to the bathtub. Larissa shivered, thinking how she’d been sitting on the floor while it had been crawling around. For all she knew, it could have crawled right by her foot. Or her hair. Heebie-jeebies ran across her skin.
All she wanted to do was take a nice long bath, thinking a whirlpool and a jungle view would be exactly what she needed to shake off her pity party and start fresh. Nowhere did her plans include sharing her tub with a man-eating creature.
She looked over from her place atop the double vanity. “Can you get rid of it?”
“Si.” Taking a hand towel, the man brushed the offending creature to the floor. Larissa squeaked and tucked her legs beneath her. How was that getting rid of anything?
Suddenly commotion sounded outside. “What happened?” Señor Chavez burst into the bathroom.
Oh, great, he was back. Was the general manager going to witness every embarrassing moment she had this trip? This time he brought a friend along, as well. A second dark-suited man pulled up behind him.
“The radio said there was an emergency.” He looked Larissa up and down with a scrutiny that made her wish she was wearing more than the complimentary robe. She tugged at the gap, making sure the cloth covered her legs.
“There was an emergency. I had an unwelcome guest,” she replied, pointing toward the floor. The maintenance man had laid the towel on the ground, and the tarantula was crawling onto the cotton surface toward the middle. “I called to have someone get rid of him.”
“I’m afraid tarantulas are an unfortunate byproduct of sleeping so close to the jungle,” the other man replied with a smile. In comparison to Señor Chavez’s scowl, it was positively blinding. “Our staff does its best to sweep them off the property, but every once in a while one makes its way into a room. I’m Jorge Chavez, the assistant manager, by the way.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” Larissa watched as the maintenance man scooped up the towel and spider. “What’s he going to do with him?”
“Pedro will release him away from the property. Don’t worry, he won’t be back.”
“I’m more worried about whether he has friends.”
“I doubt there are others, but we’ll sweep the villa to make sure. Of course, if you’re truly uncomfortable, I can arrange for you to move to a different suite.”
“No, that won’t be necessary.” With the spider gone, she was feeling a little braver. Not brave enough to move off the vanity, but braver. “As long as there are no others.”
“I’ll check the property myself.”
“Thank you.” She looked to the general manager, who hadn’t said a word since bursting on the scene. At first, she blamed the silence on annoyance, but now that she looked closer, she saw that he’d gotten lost in thought. Distance allowed her to see past the shutters, revealing the haunted sadness she remembered from last night. A sympathetic ache curled through her stomach. He didn’t seem the kind of man who would look so lost, and yet at the moment, lost was exactly the word she’d use.
“I didn’t mean to cause a big scene,” she said, raising her voice. Partly to let Jorge hear her and partly to shake Chavez from his thoughts. “When I called housekeeping, I didn’t expect an entire army to show up.”
“We were in the area.”
“They said it was an emergency.”
Both men spoke at the same time. Because it was the first Señor Chavez spoke since entering, Larissa turned her focus to him. He’d shaken off whatever ghost captured his attention and returned to scrutinizing with such ferocity you’d think she’d committed a crime, rather than been a victim. “It was an emergency to me,” she said, defensiveness rising. “You all might be accustomed to finding poisonous spiders in your bathrooms, but I’m not.”
“Contrary to popular belief, tarantulas aren’t deadly. At best, you’d get a slight fever.”
“Good to know. I’ll sleep much better knowing if one does decide to bite me, I won’t die.” His blunt tone surprised her. What happened to the exceedingly polite, do-anything-to-please-the-guest manager she met this morning? This man seemed far more intent in glaring at her. She didn’t understand the change, since she swore when he first burst into the room she saw real live fear on his face.
“No sign of any hairy friends,” Jorge announced, returning to the doorway. “I’ll have Pedro do a more thorough search and wash down the outside walls to make certain. I’m sorry for your discomfort.”
“Me, too. Now I’ll be looking everywhere for creepy crawlies my entire vacation.”
“We can still switch you to a different suite, if you’d like.”
“That really isn’t necessary.” A new room wouldn’t stop her from tiptoeing every time she stepped through the door. A thought occurred to her. “Although, I wouldn’t complain about having something taken off my bill. I mean, since my ability to relax has been compromised.” Laying it on a bit thick, but seeing how she was in the hole for seventy percent of her wedding, every little bit helped. She arched a brow in Señor Chavez’s direction, hoping he’d take the hint.
Instead, the man turned and spoke to his assistant in Spanish. Larissa didn’t understand a word of their conversation, but she noticed Jorge’s expression soften as he touched his boss’s shoulder.
“I’m going to find Pedro,” Jorge said after a moment. “If there’s anything else we can do to make your stay more comfortable...”
“I’ll let you know,” Larissa replied. She had a feeling she’d be able to parrot the phrase by the end of the week.
“Guess I’m not doing well when it comes to being low-maintenance,” she quipped once Jorge left.
The manager didn’t crack even the hint of a smile. “I’ll take another ten percent off your reception bill.”
Looked like she owed the tarantula a thank-you note. “Too bad his friends weren’t around. I might have gotten the costs knocked off the bill completely. I’m joking,” she added at his continued glare. “Nothing would be worth having five or six of those suckers crawling on my walls. One was bad enough.”
“You do realize you were never in any real danger. There was no need to tell housekeeping you had an emergency.”
“I didn’t.” Was that why he was angry? Okay, so her voice might have been high-pitched and panicked-sounding, and she might have asked that they get to her room “right away,” but she never used the word emergency. “It’s not my fault your housekeeping staff takes panicked tarantula calls seriously. Is that why you came back? Because you thought I was in danger?”
“I was told it was an emergency.”
A point he seemed incredibly intent on repeating. “Emergency could mean anything. It could mean a broken water faucet. What made you think something happened to me?”
He didn’t answer. Rather he strode to the large window on the far end of the bathroom. Hands clasped behind his back, he looked out the large window at the mangrove trees waving in the breeze. For a moment, Larissa thought he’d pulled inward again. “How’s your headache?” he asked.
“Better. Manageable.” What did that have to do with anything?
“And your mood?”
“Well, until Hairy the Spider showed up, I was planning on soaking myself into a better one. Why?”
“You were pretty upset when I left.”
“I was annoyed because I’m stuck paying for a wedding I’m not going actually have. Wouldn’t you be? I still don’t get what that has to do with—” Seeing him wash a hand over his features, a horrible thought hit her. “Don’t tell me you thought I—”
“To be honest, I wasn’t sure what to think,” he said, turning from the window. “When I left you were shaky, upset, stumbling around. Any number of things could have happened. You could have slipped and fallen, cut yourself on a broken glass....”
“Thrown myself off the balcony.”
“It’s not funny,” he snapped. “Distressed people behave unpredictably.”
So they did. But, considering his over the top reaction, Larissa had also managed to touch a nerve. She regretted the remark. “I’m sorry.”
“I am the one who should be sorry, Señorita Boyd. I overreacted. Hotel managers never like hearing there’s an emergency situation. The word is somewhat of a hot button, I’m afraid.”
Something about his expression, the way he avoided looking in her direction, said Larissa wasn’t getting the complete answer. “Have you ever had a guest...you know?”
“A guest? No.”
But someone. He’d avoided her gaze again. Larissa suddenly felt very, very bad about giving him a hard time. “I thought we decided you were going to call me Larissa.”
“So we did. And you should call me Carlos.”
“Fair deal. Thank you for saving me from the big mean spider, Carlos.”
“Housekeeping saved you, but you’re welcome anyway,” he replied with a smile. Finally. While he didn’t look completely relaxed, the shadows had receded from his features. Larissa was surprised to feel her own spine loosening as well.
Suddenly, it dawned on her that she’d held this entire conversation while curled up on the bathroom vanity. Slowly, she straightened one leg at a time, wincing at the stiffness in her kneecaps.
“How long have you been sitting there?” Carlos asked.
“Awhile. I was afraid to move past the spider, so I climbed up here to call housekeeping.”
“Tarantulas don’t jump.”
“I didn’t want to take any chances.” She swung her legs, trying to get back her circulation. Her joints clicked with the movement, sending sharp jolts across her kneecap. “Looks like I’m going to need that soak more than ever now.”
“Would you like some help getting down?”
“I’ve got it.” She scooted her bottom forward, so that when she dropped, she wouldn’t land with much force. When she reached the edge, her feet still dangled six inches or so from the floor. “Funny, I remember jumping up with far less issue,” she said before sliding to the tile. No sooner did her toes touch down, than her ankles, numb from her sitting on them for so long, turned, causing her to wobble. Carlos immediately grabbed her elbows. They ended up standing hip to thigh. Larissa felt the roughness of summer wool against her skin, a reminder of how exposed she was beneath her robe. One little movement in either direction and the terrycloth would gap open. Warmth rose from the small space between their bodies. It joined with the coolness of his breath at the hollow of her throat, causing goose bumps.
“Are you steadier now?” he asked.
Larissa nodded. “Looks like you were right to worry. I’m not as steady as I thought.” More disturbing was the rush of awareness coiling through her system. She couldn’t remember ever reacting this strongly to a man’s proximity before, not even Tom’s, and here she’d reacted to Carlos twice. Afraid of what he’d think about her burning cheeks, she dropped her gaze to the floor.
“Perhaps after your bath,” Carlos began.
“Perhaps.” She wasn’t so sure. Relaxing her muscles when they were already like jelly didn’t seem like a smart idea all of a sudden. The solidness of his grip disappeared. Larissa reached back to hold the vanity.
“I’m sorry I gave you a hard time a moment ago. It was very kind of you to be concerned.”
“No more than I would do for any guest.”
Right. Because his job was to keep guests happy. She didn’t know what had her thinking she was any different. “Still, it seems as though you’re forever finding me in a bad way. Hopefully from here on in, I’ll be—”
“Lower maintenance?”
“Exactly.”
“We can only hope.” With a curt nod, he turned and left her alone. As quickly as possible, Larissa noted.
One of these times, he was going to leave with a good impression. Thus far, she hadn’t done a very good job.
In the meantime, she planned to soak away her hangover. Having indulged in her pity party, it was time to clear her head and figure out how she let things with Tom go so far south.
But, it wasn’t Tom who came to mind as she sank into the lavender-scented water. It was a pair of deep brown eyes she’d known for less than twenty-four hours. And a strong touch she could still feel on her skin.
* * *
“You have no idea how much this means to me. To us.” Paul Stevas played with the straw hat which, until five minutes ago, had covered his auburn curls. “Linda and I didn’t get to have a traditional wedding and there’s nothing I’d like more than to give her the wedding she always dreamed of.”
Carlos studied the man sitting across from him. Kid, really, as he couldn’t be more than twenty-one or twenty-two. The young man corralled him as he was crossed the lobby, and asked for help marking his first wedding anniversary. “We’re delighted to help,” he said. “I promise, this will be the anniversary celebration of a lifetime.”
“Linda’s going to be so excited. I was afraid because I asked so last-minute....” Carlos swore the boy’s eyes were growing moist. “I didn’t want to say anything to her until you and I spoke, in case things didn’t work out.”
“Last minute is never a problem at La Joya. Our job is to make sure you and your wife have the perfect vacation. Give us a day to pull together a basic proposal package for you to work off of, and we can go from there.”
“Fantastic.” The young man pumped Carlos’s hand. “And don’t worry about the budget. Money’s no object. I want her to have anything and everything she wants.”
He better have a big line of credit, then. Granting his true love’s every whim could get expensive. And in the end, it wasn’t always enough.
Carlos kept his thoughts to himself. Business was business. If Señor Staves wanted to run himself into debt in the name of love, La Joya would gladly take his business. Served as a nice change of pace to rearranging the accounts to keep their vendors happy. Or negotiating bills with sexy blond guests.
He walked Señor Stevas to the lobby, the young man thanking him effusively every step of the way. “You made our vacation,” he repeated, enthusiastically pumping Carlos’s hand one last time before leaving.
“Nice to see such a satisfied customer.”
His shoulder blades stiffened. Silly to think he could avoid Jorge forever. He could only imagine what his cousin thought about the way Carlos rushed to Larissa’s villa. Over a spider, no less. What had he been thinking? Contrary to what he told Larissa, he’d heard the term emergency used countless times in his career. Never had he rushed to a room the way he did hers.
Not in five years anyway. When he was married to Mirabelle, he rushed everywhere for fear something might have gone wrong.
“Carlos?”
Turning, he saw his cousin helping himself to one of the complimentary water bottles kept at the front desk. “Those are for the guests.”
His cousin’s reply was to hand him a water bottle as well. “You didn’t answer my question. What did you do to make his vacation?”
“I promised him a vow renewal ceremony to end all ceremonies.”
“Sounds simple enough.”
“Would be, if we had a decent wedding coordinator.”
“I take it this afternoon’s candidate failed to impress you?”
Busy drinking his water, Carlos could only shake his head. Impress was such a subjective term. While qualified, the man lacked imagination. Anyone could slap together menus and hang decorations. La Joya’s reputation required someone with passion. Whose events sang with magic and romance and all the other intangibles people were willing to pay top dollar to experience. Thus far, he’d yet to find such a person.
Ironically, once upon a time he would have been that person. Pre-Mirabelle, of course, when he saw everything through a romantic lens. Those days seemed so long ago. When he was young and willing to do anything—be anything—for the woman he loved. He’d fallen for Mirabelle on sight, and from that moment on nothing mattered but making her happy.
Little did he know he’d taken on an impossible challenge. Mirabelle could never be happy, at least not for long. Her demons—and did she have demons—needed, needed, needed. Right up to the end, when, sensing his heart had no more to give, she shattered it to pieces.
Perhaps his past was the problem. Here he was relying on his gut to find a wedding coordinator when he’d used up all his romantic instincts years ago. He hadn’t so much looked at another woman since Mirabell’s death. Even if his heart were whole, why put himself at risk a second time?
“So what are you going to do?” Jorge’s question brought him back to the issue at hand: Paul Stevas’s request.
“Have catering pull together a proposal and hope that it’s magical enough to please our young guest and his wife.”
“Seeing his enthusiasm, I think you’re safe.”
“Let’s hope. He did say money was no object.”
“Well, if that’s the case, perhaps you should steal Señorita Boyd’s ideas. I took a look at her file when reviewing our bookings—which by the way, appear to be in order—she and Maria pulled together quite an extravaganza. Too bad, it won’t be taking place.”
“Too bad indeed, seeing as how we’re now stuck paying for nearly half of it.”
“Tarantulas happen. We’d have given the same deal for any other guest.”
“Hmm.” Carlos tossed his empty bottle into a wastebasket. Did he run to the other guests’ rescue?
“Did Pedro spray her foundation? I would prefer we not have to make any further concessions.”
“Juanita called it an emergency. You had no way of knowing—”
“Did he spray?” While he appreciated Jorge’s effort, he wasn’t in the mood to discuss what happened.
“Si.”
“Good.”
“He also checked her room again. As I suspected, this morning’s visitor traveled solo. Although, if you’d like, I could double check myself.”
“No.” The vehemence with which he spoke embarrassed him. “I think we’ve wasted enough of our time on Señorita Boyd’s tarantula.”
“Right. I’ll leave well enough alone, then.” His cousin gave him a long look, full of smug double meaning that left Carlos feeling so exposed, he wanted to smack the man.
Instead, he said, “Thank you,” and headed back to his office.
He spent the rest of the afternoon with his nose stuck in occupancy reports, desperately hoping to push the morning’s escapades from his brain. He didn’t like how Larissa Boyd had captivated his attention. The hold made him uncomfortable. At the same time, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. If anything, the harder he tried, the more ingrained she became. How sexy she managed to look curled on that vanity. How, when she slid to the floor, her body came so close he’d felt the belt of her robe brushing against his pant leg. The way her lips parted in surprise...
Maldita! What was wrong with him? Larissa Boyd was but one attractive woman in a resort full of attractive women—a woman who’d been nothing but trouble, he might add. Why the sudden fascination? Had he been living so long as a monk that her innate sensuality had an extra strong grip?
Whatever the reason, he might as well forget getting any paperwork done. It was time for his evening walk anyway. Who knows what emergencies crept up while he was behind closed doors? Half the time, his inspection found the problems before the staff did.
Thankfully, after six weeks of robbing Peter to pay Paul, the resort appeared back on financial stable ground. The last thing they needed was a rash of bad reviews. But then, wasn’t that his job? To anticipate and erase problems before guests ever had a chance to complain? Lucky for everyone, guests were the one class of people he could keep happy.
The lobby was quiet when he opened the door. He must have been lost in thought longer than he realized. Gone were the sun-worshippers and sightseers. The soft flop of sandals had been replaced by the click of high heels. Guitar music and laughter drifted through the terrace porticos. The bar was in full swing. Both trestaurants would be, as well. Nighttime had arrived. He gave a few parting instructions to the night manager, and with Paul Stevas’s proposal tucked under his arm, set off for the day’s final inspection.
He wasn’t looking for Larissa Boyd, he told himself as he passed the hotel’s open air restaurant. He wasn’t. If he was scanning the tables at the open-air restaurant, it was simply to double-check service. Her presence leapt out at him purely by coincidence. How could a man not notice her? She was the only woman dining alone.
What a difference from the woman he left this morning. Gone were the smudged makeup and floppy hair, replaced by a thick blond bob. The strands brushed just below her jawline, the restaurant lighting turning the color silver. Perhaps the lighting was why her skin looked more radiant, as well. The waitperson said something, and she smiled with such enthusiasm, Carlos swore her face glowed.
Before he realized, he was halfway across the dining room floor.
She was gazing out the window when he approached the table. Mindlessly sipping from her champagne glass. A fringed shawl, so delicate a strong breeze would carry it away, covered her shoulders. Every time she raised her drink, the material would slip, revealing a sliver of white shoulder. Not much. Only enough to make you want to see more. Reminded him of the morning’s terrycloth robe, modest and tantalizing at the same time. Like this morning, his body reacted appreciatively.
His voice was uncharacteristically hoarse when he spoke. “Enjoying your dinner?”
She turned quickly, liquid spilling over the rim of her glass. “Señor Chavez! You startled me.”
“Lo siento. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he said, retrieving the handkerchief from his breast pocket. “And if I’m to call you Larissa, you should call me Carlos.”
It dawned on him she was the only guest he’d ever suggested use the familiar term. Oddly, the suggestion felt completely natural. “I take it, our view has claimed another victim.”
“Afraid so. I thought my villa cornered the market on beautiful, but I was wrong.”
“Paradise through every window.”
“For once, the advertising brochure doesn’t exaggerate.” She slipped the cotton from his fingers with a smile, a little shyer than the one she gave the waiter, but bright nonetheless. “You must think I’m a horrible klutz. Every time we meet, I’m stumbling or something. I swear I’m usually more graceful. Not much, but definitely more than you’ve seen.”
“This spill I’ll take the blame for. The others we’ll blame the champagne.”
“Oh, I blame the champagne for a lot of things, including not seeing my hairy visitor sooner. Cristal definitely does not come up as smoothly as it goes down.” His eyes must have flickered to the glass because she hastily added, “Sparkling water. My drinking alone days are finished.”
Good to know. Perhaps now she’d stop occupying his thoughts so much.
Or perhaps not, he thought, scanning her length. Worry certainly wasn’t what he was thinking at the moment. “You certainly look like you’ve recovered from your ordeals.”
“I have, thank you.” She handed back his handkerchief, now damp. “Amazing what a long soak and a five-hour nap can do for your psyche. I’m ready to start this trip fresh.”
“I’m glad. I hope your stay is everything you envisioned.”
“Well, that ship sailed six weeks ago, but I do plan to make the most of it. Who knows when I’ll get back to paradise?”
There was that smile again. The muscles in Carlos’s cheeks tightened, making him realize he was smiling broadly in return. “Well, let’s hope it’s not too long between trips.”
This was the point where he normally moved on, to greet another set of guests, to complete his perimeter check. “By the way, if you haven’t ordered yet, I recommend starting with the ceviche. It is Frederico, our head chef’s, specialty.”
“Oh, I intend to. Along with the sopa de lima and the pollo ticul.”
He recognized the menu immediately. “You’re having your reception dinner.”
“Of course. I planned it. I’m paying for it. By God, I’m going to eat it.”
“You’re a woman on a mission, then.”
“Damn straight. And after dinner, I plan on having two pieces of my cake. Diet be damned.”
Just as he hoped, she was stronger than she first appeared. Carlos’s appreciation grew stronger. Did she had any idea how attractive a quality resilience could be? “In that case, I hope the meal is everything you hoped for. Buenas noches.”
Finally, his legs moved and he took a step toward the next table.
“Carlos, wait.” Her fingers brushed his cuff, stopping him in his tracks. Turning, he caught her peering up through downcast eyes, the blue still vivid in spite of the mascara curtain. Her lower lip worried between her teeth. Simultaneously erotic and shy, the gesture turned his entire body alive with an awareness he hadn’t felt in half a decade.
“I don’t suppose you’d like to join me?” she asked.