Indiscretions Read online

  “After you,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “I’d like to clear our uninvited friends out of here before our regular guests are disturbed.”

  She sensed a grain of annoyance in his tone, one Brett apparently didn’t share since he kept grinning at the cameras as they made their way to the door. It left her curious, and she began to wonder whose arrangement this was. Had she been forced upon them by the owner of this hotel? Did these men owe her dad a favor? The court had left it to her father to arrange a place to serve her sentence. She’d assumed everyone was in agreement, but now she was beginning to have doubts.

  It would be nice to know what she was walking into, but in classic fashion, her father kept his dealings on a need-to-know basis. Even when those dealings were her life for the next thirty days.

  It’s not your concern.

  She could already hear him say it. Business matters, honey, nothing for you to involve yourself in.

  Whenever she tried to inject herself into an important discussion, he’d all but stop short of saying, Just be quiet and look pretty. And she knew without a doubt that very phrase had tumbled to the edge of his lips more than once in her life. But he also knew she was her mother’s daughter. Giving orders only meant she’d do the opposite, and just as he’d learned to deal with Abigail, he’d learned to treat Rachel with the same guarded caution.

  Taking a breath and exhaling the thought, she stepped into the relative quiet of the lobby.

  Let go of those things you can’t control.

  A very wise and spiritual friend had provided her that mantra, and she silently repeated it as she took in the surroundings.

  The Clearwater Springs Resort was a compound of tan stucco buildings with clay tile roofs, built in the Spanish mission style common to the area. Rustic furnishings of dark wood and rich textiles took up the grand lobby. Overhead, elaborate iron chandeliers hung from an exposed beam ceiling, the chunky wood clean but aged as though ancient wars had been fought in that very room. The space was a strange mix of upscale elegance and unrefined charm, the cold stucco walls softened by warm yellow light, fine regional art and polished terra-cotta floors.

  Apparently, there would be little sacrifice to her accustomed lifestyle while spending a month on these grounds. Aside, of course, from the forty hours a week she’d spend cleaning rooms. Although, even that was in question, judging by a few offhand comments her father had made on the ride up.

  Stefan, her personal assistant, came to her side, a key card in one hand and a pile of papers in the other.

  “You’re in the Hacienda Suite,” he said, handing her the card.

  “But—” Brett said, turning to Marc, who quickly cut him off.

  “It’s the best we have available,” Marc snapped.

  Brett narrowed his eyes, but kept quiet. Yes, there was definitely a dynamic in this room, and as soon as her father took off back to L.A., she intended to get to the bottom of it.

  “I’ll start unpacking your things,” Stefan went on, oblivious to the undercurrent swimming around them. “When you’re ready, give me a buzz and I’ll show you where we’re staying.”

  “We?” Marc asked, obviously not expecting the additional guest.

  “Stefan is Rachel’s assistant. She needs him,” her father interjected. Then he turned to Brett. “That was part of the agreement.”

  The look on Marc’s face soured. “Yes, well, if the four of us could sit for a moment and chat, I’d like to discuss that agreement.” He motioned toward a large wooden door.

  “Of course,” her father said. “Rachel, why don’t you go with Stefan while I talk to these men?”

  She pressed her lips and tried to fight off the embarrassment that threatened to color her cheeks. She didn’t know why her father’s brush-off hit her so squarely. He’d been treating her like a child since she was one. But for some reason, dismissing her in front of Marc packed an additional sting.

  “If it pertains to me, I’d like to be there,” she said.

  “Sweetheart,” her father started, but Brett cut in.

  “Actually, there’s a log she’ll need to complete for the courts. I’d prefer we go over it with both of you.”

  Defeated, her father sighed and checked his watch. “Fine, as long as we’re brief. I need to be in Santa Barbara by six.”

  “This won’t take long,” Marc said, tossing another one of those icy glances to his brother.

  And as she followed the men into the room, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her stay at Clearwater Springs was going to end up far more interesting than she’d expected. Though interesting good or interesting bad, it was way too soon to tell.

  2

  MARC ESCORTED Brett and the Winstons into one of the conference rooms that opened to the main lobby, gesturing toward the large mahogany conference table in the center of the room.

  “This is a nice resort you’ve got here,” Richard said. He held a chair for Rachel then took the one beside her. “My assistant wasn’t kidding when she said this was quite the hidden gem.”

  “Thank you,” Marc said. “We’re just beginning to build a name for ourselves.”

  “You two co-own this place. New blood in the hospitality industry, if I recall.”

  Marc looked forward to the day he could answer that question with a yes. Though this resort was his home and career, he was still far from being able to call it his own. But if things went as planned, that day would eventually come.

  “The resort’s owned by a partnership,” he admitted. “Brett and I are managing general partners.”

  Richard smiled. “It’s a lovely resort.” He turned to Rachel. “It looks like you’ll have plenty to do while you’re here.”

  “Absolutely,” she said. She turned her eyes to Marc. “I can think of a number of things, already.”

  He didn’t miss the innuendo in her voice or the suggestion in those dark, seductive eyes. A blade of heat curled up his neck, tightening his collar and drying his throat as she held that gaze on him and curved her mouth into a playful half smile.

  “You mentioned something about forms,” Richard added. “I really do need to make this quick.”

  Brett opened his binder. “I got these from your office. They were sent by the court. I just want to clarify the process of logging Rachel’s service hours so there are no misunderstandings.”

  “Actually,” Marc cut in, darting his gaze from Rachel and grabbing quick hold of his wits before this meeting took off without him. He placed a hand on the papers Brett was about to slide across the table. “There are a few other things I’d like to clarify before we get to that.” Swallowing hard, he pushed his thoughts to the business at hand. “It seems most of the discussions have gone on between Brett and your staff. Now that we’re all here together, I’d like to make sure we’re in agreement over the expectations by the court as well as yourselves.”

  He eyed his brother, pleased to find no panic in Brett’s eyes. Maybe he really had made sure it was clear Rachel would be expected to work during her stay, and that over the next four weeks, she’d be considered an employee, not a guest.

  “Of course,” Richard agreed.

  Marc opened his mouth to begin when the door opened and his concierge popped in.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” the woman said. “Phil Arnall is on the phone. He says he needs to speak with you immediately.”

  “I’ll have to call him back,” Marc said.

  “I told him you were in a meeting. He insists I interrupt. Plans to wait on the phone until you pick up.” The woman smiled apologetically. “He’s not taking no for an answer.”

  “Sounds like my kinda guy,” Richard joked with a laugh.

  Only Marc wasn’t laughing. Phil was one of the shareholders in the property who sat on the board of directors. Though the man owned a small fraction of the resort, he was responsible for one hundred percent of Marc’s headaches, continually looking for problems that didn’t exist, and Marc yearned for the day he an
d Brett owned controlling interest. He’d give anything to be able to tell Phil to go to hell.

  Unfortunately, the man had a talent for inciting the other partners, and as long as the board had ultimate power to call the shots, Marc had to keep peace.

  Exhaling an angry sigh, he rose from the table.

  “I’m sorry, I’ll have to take this.” He turned to Brett. “You know what we wanted to cover.”

  “Not a problem,” Brett said, but Marc held his eyes on his brother for a pause in an effort to convey this was serious.

  While he and Brett worked well together, it was no secret that Brett was the sales and idea man and Marc was the organizer and voice of reason. Together they created a successful balance, working in unison to temper each other’s extremes. But left alone, Brett Strauss was a loose cannon, and without Marc around to periodically defuse, only bad things happened.

  “I said, not a problem,” Brett repeated. And with a nod, Marc felt satisfied enough to walk out and take the call.

  He stepped down the hall to his office and picked up his private line. “Phil, I’m in the middle of a meeting. I hope this is urgent.”

  The comment was futile. Phil considered everything urgent. If only Marc had known that before accepting the man’s money back when they’d been wheeling and dealing to buy the resort.

  “What am I looking at on television, Marc?” Phil asked.

  “I haven’t a clue.”

  “It looks like my hotel has been converted into a celebrity halfway house. I don’t remember you clearing this with the board.”

  My hotel. An overexaggeration at best, and though Marc should be accustomed to the man by now, the phrase still rattled his nerves.

  Clearwater Springs was Marc’s brainchild. As long as he could remember, he’d wanted to own and operate a resort. When he was a kid on vacation in Maui or Palm Springs, he’d fantasized about coming to a place like this and staying for good. And as soon as he’d graduated from college with majors in finance and hotel management, that was exactly what he’d set out to do.

  With the help of Brett’s career as a professional tennis player and parents with wealthy connections, he’d scraped together a partnership to buy Clearwater Springs. And as part of the long-term plan, his family would continue to buy out the others’ shares until they held controlling interest.

  Marc had spent the past ten years working to buy this resort, and if things continued to go as planned, it would only be a few more years before he owned it outright. But in the meantime, he was stuck having to calm the waters with a retired bank executive who had too much time on his hands.

  “I don’t need to clear any employees or guests with the board,” he said. “You know that.”

  “You’ve entered an agreement with the San Diego courts. All contracts need to be approved—”

  “There’s no contract, Phil. Ms. Winston is free to carry out her sentence at any hotel or resort she chooses. The arrangements surrounding her stay are all within the power Brett and I hold as managing general partners.”

  Phil huffed. “You should have run this by us. If this turns out badly, you could ruin our investment and the reputation of the resort. I think this is too much publicity too soon. We don’t yet have the reputation to withstand any bad press that might come out of this.”

  “I can hardly see what—”

  “I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. Are you aware of that woman’s reputation? I don’t care how much money she has, that’s not the kind of clientele we want to attract to Clearwater Springs. Next, you’ll have a flock of drunken rock stars checking in and trashing all the rooms.”

  Marc rolled his eyes. “Only the good rooms, Phil.”

  Marc’s meaning flew over Phil’s head. “This is a family resort. You’d sold us on that concept yourself.”

  “And it still is a family resort. Nothing’s changed.”

  “You better hope it doesn’t. I’ll be keeping a close eye on the financials.” He always did. “If business goes in the tank over this I’ll have you tossed. That we can do.”

  It was a line Marc had heard a dozen times before, and each time it never failed to give him a headache. Granted, he could have probably avoided Phil’s uproar if they’d sent a communication to the board. But in heart and soul, Clearwater Springs belonged to Marc. It was his life and passion and he treated it as such.

  “I understand your concerns and assure you, you have nothing to worry about.”

  He went on to recite the same pacifying speech he always gave when Phil called with his butt in a bundle. By the time he got off the phone, more than twenty minutes had passed and a glance outside the window found the Bentley and the entourage gone. Great.

  Unless Rachel left with them, the only thing between Marc and a dozen more headaches was his faith that his brother had sufficiently laid down the ground rules.

  And knowing Brett the way Marc did, that kind of faith was in short supply.

  “DON’T WORRY. You aren’t going to have to do a thing,” Brett assured, taking a swig of his iced tea as he, Rachel and Stefan enjoyed drinks on the shady terrace.

  They’d just said goodbyes to Rachel’s father, who gave her a quick kiss and a promise to come back and visit in a couple weeks. It was a sweet offer, one Rachel knew he sincerely meant. But if the man actually showed his face there again, she’d donate her entire trust fund to charity. Her dad wasn’t coming back. She’d be lucky to get a quick phone call, which was all fine and good. From the sound of things, she was going to have her hands full as it was.

  “We’re pairing you with Anita,” Brett went on. “You’ll like her. The day crew has gone home for the day, but I’ll introduce you to her and Jolie, the head of housekeeping, tomorrow. But mostly, you and Anita will work together. She’ll handle the dirty work. You can help by doing a bit of dusting.” Brett shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll be more bored than overworked.”

  “That might be a good time for you to phone in your daily blog,” Stefan said.

  With a fresh honeydew margarita in one hand, Stefan jotted down a note in the planner that kept both him and Rachel organized. Or more accurately, the planner kept Stefan organized, Stefan organized Rachel.

  He’d been in her employ practically since she graduated high school. At first, she’d been put off by the idea of an assistant, feeling as though her parents had basically hired a babysitter. But it wasn’t long before Rachel realized how badly she needed someone like him to handle her affairs.

  It was after she’d convinced herself that she was a horrible student that Rachel was diagnosed with a severe form of dyslexia. She was terrible with numbers, and despite the tutoring her parents had hired, she still couldn’t read without effort. Having Stefan come into her life had been like receiving a new, smarter brain, and she’d quickly decided that life without him would be unconscionable.

  Unfortunately, his relationship with his partner, Tyler, was growing serious, and lately he’d been cutting back his hours. She’d practically had to beg him to come for this four-week stay, but with many of her friends brushing her off since her conviction, she needed him now more than ever.

  “And vacuuming,” Brett added. “You can do that, right?”

  Rachel shrugged. “I don’t know. We’ve always had people…”

  She trailed off when she saw Marc step onto the terrace. He’d removed his jacket and tie since she’d seen him last, and while she’d loved the tailored suit look, she liked this casual style better. Without the jacket, she could see he was bulkier than she’d first assumed. He’d rolled his sleeves up to his elbows and loosened the top button on his shirt, revealing a faint tuft of dark hair that disappeared to places she wouldn’t mind exploring. His bulging chest and biceps couldn’t be hidden despite the loose fabric, and as she trailed her eyes down his flat stomach, she wondered what other delectable surprises the man kept hidden under those clothes.

  Wouldn’t it be fun to find out?

  Heck, right now
, she’d settle for a better view of his butt, but he remained in the archway facing the tables as he scanned the crowd.

  Despite the fact that Brett and Stefan were still talking, Rachel couldn’t rip her gaze from the sexy stud. The man was a cocktail of calm confidence and hot intensity that left her dizzy with intrigue. She’d love to know what that combination could produce between the sheets, and as she watched him study the room, her mind took off in a sensual fantasy that had her squirming in her seat.

  Her pulse quickened as she mentally traced a finger over that sharp jaw. She could practically feel his early evening stubble scraping against her skin. She wondered what those lips tasted like. Did he kiss hard or linger softly? Would he groan or would the only sound be the heavy beat of her heart?

  She felt as though she could sit and stare all day, mentally feasting on that body until her blood simmered to the boiling point. But just as her fantasy reel started getting to the good stuff, that steamy gaze swept back and collided with hers.

  For the briefest moment, he perked, one eyebrow arching slightly and his mouth revealing the barest hint of a smile. It disappeared quickly, but it was enough to give her a jolt of tickling pleasure. Every instinct told her he was as attracted to her as she was to him, and she stored that tidbit away for safekeeping. Brett assumed she’d be bored during her stay. Not if she had her way with his brother, she wouldn’t.

  Marc made purposeful strides toward their table, her mouth getting drier as he neared, and when he approached and uttered a greeting, she took a casual sip from her straw before offering her most flirty hello.

  She caught the uneven blink of his eyes and faint glance to her chest before he cleared his throat and turned his attention to his brother.

  Oh, yeah. Attraction with a capital A on a road that ran both ways. This little stay of hers just might end up to be a lot of fun.

  “I guess I’ve missed Richard,” he said, not yet motioning to take the available seat at the table.