Chapter Six
Gray racked his brain for another question. This whole non-dating thing was turning out to be harder than he’d anticipated. Not a complaint, though. Because a simple breakfast with the beautiful Ella was more fun than he’d had on his last year’s worth of dates put together. Even without any of the fancy trappings that usually made a date special. Like champagne, a cleavage-baring cocktail dress on her, or second-base groping in the back of a cab.
Of course, it didn’t hurt that the supposedly simple breakfast of raspberry-stuffed French toast topped with warm maple syrup was served to them on a secluded stone patio overlooking the bright blue lake. The patio curled off the main dining room like a snail. Towering weeping willows shaded it from the morning sun. Ducks—geese—hell, Gray didn’t know, just that something grey that quacked kept waddling by with a trio of tiny, fluffy chicks following behind. Only big enough for three tables and covered by a green metal awning, the patio lent the illusion of privacy. A feeling often hard to come by at a hotel. Which meant a tick in the pro column of his notes on the place.
Sadly, the secluded patio didn’t come close to the privacy they’d shared the other night on her stairs. The lip-to-lip sort of privacy Gray badly wanted to revisit. The plain, light purple top Ella wore shouldn’t tempt him so much. Her loose skirt fell all the way to her deep purple sneakers with the hot pink tongue and racing stripe. The outfit was probably chosen for comfort as she stood over the massage table all day. It shouldn’t tempt him into a state of semi-arousal. But it did. She did. And he’d damn well return the favor. No reason they both shouldn’t leave the breakfast table hot and bothered.
As casual as could be, he asked, “What’s your favorite sexual position?”
The crystal tumbler of orange juice almost slid through her fingers to crash onto the flagstones below. But Gray was prepared for her reaction. He nipped it out of her suddenly lax fingers as Ella gaped at him.
“Why would you ask me that?” She took a breath and looked furtively over her shoulder. “For Pete’s sake, there are Manor guests right on the other side of those French doors.” Ella jerked her head in that direction. It was anything but subtle. Much like her loud stage whisper. “You can’t ask a thing like that. Not at breakfast.”
He enjoyed her adorable spluttering. It brought color to her cheeks. And Gray figured it was nothing more than a knee-jerk reaction. The woman who’d wrapped herself around him with such passion on the stairs up to her bedroom couldn’t truly be embarrassed by his question. Caught off guard, sure. But Gray would jump right into that big-ass lake in front of them, fully dressed, if she didn’t come back with a sassy response before he drained his coffee.
“It’s your game,” he said, idly stirring in more cream. Yeah. Cream. Not skim, not half-assed two percent. If he was going to stay at a genuine castle, he’d use full-fledged cream in his coffee. Gray never stayed in one place long enough to have a trainer. He made up for it by pushing himself through a rigorous running regimen. Pumped weights when he could find them. Experience proved the exercise gave him extra energy. But mostly Gray watched his diet because he didn’t want to end up with his Uncle David’s gut in five years, or inherit his grandfather’s blown abdominal aortic aneurism in twenty years.
Okay, maybe that wasn’t the whole truth. Maybe it was because he’d do everything possible to outlive his father. To be there to watch when they eventually wheeled the bastard out through the electrified prison gates nailed into a pinewood box. And to finally be one hundred percent certain the long nightmare had ended.
Ella curled her fingers back around her juice, pulling it closer. “My game? This isn’t a game, Gray. It’s a date.”
Ah. It was all the more satisfying to string her up by her own rules. “Nope. No official ‘dating’,” he put finger quotes around the word, “till the town green-lights us, remember?” Wacky it might be, but he’d respect her request. “Which is why you suggested we ask each other questions that we’d never, ever ask on a first date.” Thank God. It meant she couldn’t ask him something predictable, like what he did for a living. And that put off lying to her on a whole other level just a little while longer.
“Yes, but—”
“You mentioned a prize for whoever came up with the best anti-date question.”
“I was joking.”
“Really? Cause you seemed like you were gunning for the win when you started with politics,” he reminded her. Gray had gotten a kick out of her fearless launch into that topic. “You asked me who I voted for in the last election.”
Ella shook her head so fast that her ponytail smacked into the corner of her eye. She winced. “Politics themselves might be taboo on a first date. But asking about the election was a fairly mild question. The president did win by the biggest majority in decades. Chances were good, given our demographically similar ages, that we both voted for him. I didn’t blast you with pure shock value right off the top.”
A fun argument could stir up the blood almost as much as a string of sexy promises. Gray preferred a woman who could go toe-to-toe with him. When Ella first told him about the mailbox arrangement, Gray had wondered if she’d turned into a pushover since…what did she call it? Disaster Day? But he’d only wondered for about two seconds.
As Ella continued with her story it was clear that her choice to be backed up by the entire town was made from a place of strength, not weakness. An acknowledgement that she needed help during her darkest days. But it also seemed Ella never actually relinquished her control, her independence, despite their loving smothering. She still got up every day, went to work and made people feel better. She chose not to give up. Not to huddle in her bed every day wallowing in misery. This was a woman with a backbone forged of steel and sheer grit. And with a breathtaking smile Gray intended to nudge out of her as often as possible.
“Oh, so you admit you tried to game me?” He leaned forward, hands braced on the edge of the green wrought iron table. “Planned to throw softballs until I caved and asked you something predictable and against the rules? Like the name of your movie star crush or your favorite boy band?”
The moment she decided to change tactics, Gray knew. She telegraphed it with a tiny uptilt of her right eyebrow. If he hadn’t been staring at her eyes, trying to drink them in, trying to pinpoint their exact combination of green and yellow and caramel, then he would’ve missed it. However hotly she’d planned to deny ever crushing on a boy band—something he wouldn’t believe for a second—Gray knew that moment had passed.
“It was a warm-up question.” She flicked it away. “I had to test and see if you were up to the challenge. I’ll admit, you impressed me when you lobbed right back with the one about the latest scandal at the Vatican.”
And that had kept their conversation flying nonstop, if somewhat hotly, for at least half of breakfast. “Politics and religion. The two most awkward topics to ever discuss on a date.”
“Well, we did start getting to know each other when I blurted out the tale of my parents’ tragic death. An argument about politics could only be a giant conversational step up from there.” Ella shook her head in a slow, regretful swing from side to side. “Clearly, I showed my hand too early. Should’ve saved the Disaster Day revelation for this morning.”
So she’d recovered enough to joke about the tragedy that upended her life. Gray added resilient to her list of attributes. A list he shouldn’t be making. The list he should be making, the list his paycheck depended on, shone a different spotlight on Ella. The list for his job should have a big star at the top next to her name. Point out that she’d fallen to pieces once already when life turned to crap. By her own admission had turned her back on running the hotel. Statistically speaking, she could fall apart again. Which made him feel like a giant douchebag for even thinking about it.
Gray knew she was the lynchpin to his entire recommendation. Come to think of it, Ella would probably be happier if someone else did own the hotel. She could tend to her massage clients without any other responsibilities scratching at her conscience. Taking ownership away might be the kindest thing he could do.
Of course, if he pulled that trigger, Gray would bet not only his paycheck but his hefty, year-end bonus that she’d never bestow that sassy smile on him again. Which left him screwed no matter how he looked at it.
He was in a sugar coma from breakfast. Little brown birds that sang like they’d had multiple starring roles in a cartoon perched on the hedge rimming the patio. And Ella looked a million times more delicious than the lip-smacking French toast. How was a guy supposed to formulate a plan in a place this idyllic? Instead, he pushed work to the side. Again. Along with the guilt that came with neglecting the entire reason for his visit to Mayhew Manor. Promised himself he’d buckle down as soon as she left to start her workday.
For now, it was more fun to keep the game going. Gray mimicked the flat tone of a buzzer. “Strategic error. Dead parents would’ve netted you the win for sure. So with politics and religion out of the way, the list of possible topics never discussed on a first date is short. You can’t act all shocked at my question. The only thing left for me was sex. Never comes up on a first date. Unless you’re a hooker or a porn star.”
She used her long, strong fingers to cover her mouth. But the telltale stretch of her grin showed at the edges. “Wow. You get bonus points for mentioning hookers and porn stars on our first official non-date date. You’re really going for the win.”
“My competitive spirit knows no bounds.”
“Fair enough.” Ella leaned back. Stretched out her legs so the skirt sheeted to the ground. Damn it. Now Gray was fantasizing about an actual sheet wrapped around her legs. The super soft one on his bed the color of a pale, green grape. With him underneath it. Wrapped around her. “But it’s my game, Gray. I invented it, even if I didn’t expect you to follow through. So I intend to win this inaugural match.”
Too bad she was still ducking his official question. But he couldn’t wait to see what she thought could top it. After another swallow that almost drained his cup, Gray made a come-and-get-it wave of his fingers. “Bring it.”
“Actual inches—not the inflated number that guys always brag about to each other—how long is your penis?”
Yup. The automatic shocked virgin routine was gone. In its place was that playful spirit he’d glimpsed more than a couple of times already. And he still had at least three sips of coffee left, as predicted. Gray scooted back his chair. Angled it towards the lake, and spread his arms wide at shoulder height. “You’re welcome to come on over here and discover for yourself.”
A burble of laughter escaped her lips. Then, with obviously fake nonchalance, Ella made a show of looking at her wristwatch. Something silver and elegant. Probably a graduation gift from her doting parents. Whereas the only thing Gray got at his high school graduation was his face splashed over the tabloids as the son of a convicted sexual deviant. Oh well. It was far from the first sign that his father hadn’t ever bothered to think about how his actions affected his family. In the grand scheme of how his father screwed up their lives, a forgotten graduation present barely made a blip.
“Why, look at that—it’s almost time for my first massage. Sorry, Gray. We’ll have to continue this later.” Ella bounded out of her chair with a smile brighter than the diamonds of sunlight on the water almost blinding him. She leaned down to drop a kiss on his forehead. “How about we call this one a tie?”
“If it’s a tie, then we both win. And I’m claiming my prize right now.” He grabbed Ella’s waist to twist her backwards down onto his lap. One hand cradled her back. The other turned her face just enough to ensure her lips met his.
Gray kept it sweet. And PG. He knew heads inside were probably turning all the way around like owls to catch the show. If by some miracle none of the guests recognized Ella, the staff certainly did. He didn’t want to smear her reputation. All he wanted was a taste. The sweetness he’d drink off of her to sustain him through the day. So he didn’t tease her mouth open. Didn’t plunge inside. Tried desperately not to think about how the tight roundness of her ass rubbed against the inseam of his jeans.
So he kept the pressure light. More of a feathering than a full-blown kiss. Just enough to kick-start the heat between them. Just enough to notice the soft give to her lips. The faint stickiness from the maple syrup that led Gray to lick all along the top and then sweep back across the bottom. The way she leaned into his body when he nipped at the full swell of her lower lip. How her hair slid through his fingers to brush against his cheek.
And God almighty, he noticed the way his blood instantly heated at her touch. Not just where they touched, but all through his body. Heat that Gray tamped down immediately. If they couldn’t officially date yet, he sure as hell couldn’t nuzzle his way down her neckline to explore the creamy perfection of her breasts. Well, at least, not at breakfast. Behind closed doors was another matter. A plan he’d have to formulate ASAP. The illicit thrill of sneaking around would add a kick of fun. Not that he and Ella needed any help in the sparks department. That was as about as necessary as following a shot of J?ger with a chaser of Everclear.
So he smoothed his thumb along her cheekbone. Eased back with a sigh of regret. Heard a matching whisper of a sign from Ella. “Okay. Now you can go to work,” he declared.
“What? Don’t I get to claim my prize?” She ran her hand down the front of his Red Bulls jersey. Very suggestively. Gray would go so far as to say with purpose. That purpose evidently being to push him to the edge. Ella bent her head as though to kiss his neck. But all he felt was the swish of her ponytail as she twisted away, up and out of his embrace.
“Go ahead. I’m all yours,” he said. With only a tiny flicker of guilt. Okay, a stabbing zing of guilt. How long would he be able to keep Ella the woman separate from Ella Mayhew the owner he might put out of business?
“I’ll keep that in mind. But I think I’ll savor the anticipation for a while.” She grabbed a sweater striped with two shades of purple from the back of the chair. “You might want to swing by the mailbox if you get a chance. Find out if the town’s weighed in yet. Otherwise, meet me back here for breakfast tomorrow?”
“It’s a date…or not,” Gray corrected himself.
“Exactly.” Ella hurried into the castle with a wave and a laugh. Gray sucked in a lungful of air perfumed with whatever the flowering trees were on the property. Might be cherry or apple. Not that he’d be around long enough to find out. But they’d sure looked pretty as he jogged underneath them yesterday. Way better than running on a treadmill in a tiny basement hotel gym.
The chair recently vacated by Ella scraped across stone as a tall, elderly man dropped his weight into it with a huff. “Mind if I join you?”
“I was just leaving.” Gray started to rise. This wasn’t a B & B. He had no intention of getting stuck making small talk with some retiree on vacation. His agenda was jam packed with a second big day of wandering down Main Street to see what dirt he could dig up on Mayhew Manor. Assess how the townspeople really felt about it—and how they might feel about something bigger and better. “You can have the table.”
“It isn’t the table I’m interested in getting to know.” He waved Gray back into his seat with a liver-spotted hand. Then extended it to Gray. “Sorry it took me this long to welcome you to the Manor, Mr. Locke.”
“How do you know my name?” The question came out a little harsher than Gray intended. But that was his knee-jerk animosity to what was probably just small town friendliness. He far preferred big-city anonymity. It made his job easier. It also didn’t give him a flashback to his hometown that always brought with it the special, gut-churning nausea of shame.
“Oh, I know everyone’s name.” A genial chuckle. “I’m Eugene Shalitsky, the general manager for this fine establishment.”
Gray crumpled up his mental agenda. Three-pointed it straight into the trash can. Far better to stay right here and dig a pickax into the gold mine of information Fate just sat at his table. “Nice to meet you. Quite a place you’ve got here.”
“Oh, it’s not mine. I think of myself as a caretaker for the owner. And also a caretaker of the owner. If you get my drift.”
He sure did. The closest thing Ella had left to a father figure had just watched Gray get up close and real personal with her. It felt weird, at best. “You saw us. Just now.”
“Indeed.”
Great. Was Grandpa here to kick his proverbial ass? “You’ve got a problem with it?”
“Indeed not.” The man flattened his palms on the fanciful scrollwork that made up the arms of the chair. “I’m grateful to you for putting some color back in Ella’s cheeks. She hasn’t looked at a man the way she looks at you in quite some time.”
Whoa. It felt even weirder for Eugene to thank him for putting the moves on her. Gray shifted in his chair. What was he supposed to say to that— my pleasure ?
“She’s a special girl.” Lame. Stupid. Thinking on his feet, having an answer at the ready for anything was one of his biggest job requirements. He must be off his game because the topic was personal, not professional.
“Quite so. It’s been my distinct pleasure to work with first her parents, and then Ella.” Eugene put a hand to the side of his mouth and leaned forward, as if imparting a secret. Gray was all for secrets. Of the business variety. The personal kind, he didn’t want to get near. And he had the feeling Eugene wasn’t about to share with him the guest retention rate or per-room profit margin. Sure enough, Eugene dropped his voice to a stage whisper. “Although the past few years have comprised more work than I’d bargained for, I don’t mind telling you.”
Obviously. But shouldn’t he mind? Opening up like this about his boss to a complete stranger? One whose only apparent knowledge of Ella was how to make her moan over muffins? The weird factor jacked up about two hundred percent. Gray cleared his throat. “Sorry. I feel like I missed half the conversation. Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I want to thank you for dragging Ella out of her hole. We’ve all tried, and gotten her close to back to normal. Looks like you just might be the one who gets her across that finish line.”
Yeah. Or he might be the one responsible for Ruffano & McIntosh Holdings snaking the property out from under her. The one to shoulder the burden of taking away the only legacy left by her dead parents. Guilt swamped him again, suffocating him. He reached reflexively for the coffee he’d already drained. No help there. Damn. Getting out of here—and getting coffee—moved to the top of his priority list. The white-haired manager might be trying to build Gray a pedestal, but he had a hammer full of reality he wasn’t afraid to wield.
“Look, I appreciate the sentiment, but you don’t know me. At all.” Clearly this misplaced conviction was a symptom of that stupid, small-town trust Gray so detested. The kind of trust that led people to believe nothing bad could ever happen in their town. The kind of trust that kept doors unbolted and windows unlocked. Trust like that made it easy for monsters to get you. Didn’t Eugene worry about the wrong kind of guy latching on to the very pretty, sweet, and wealthy-on-paper Ella? Because he damn well should.
“I know she’s taken with you, Mr. Locke.”
Jesus. Gray slammed his lids closed so Eugene wouldn’t see him roll his eyes. Who knew the bleeding heart of a true romantic lay under the crisply ironed shirt with the hotel logo embroidered in burgundy across the pocket? “For all you know, I could be all kinds of trouble for Ella. I could break her heart.”
“Her heart’s already been shattered into a thousand pieces by the death of her parents. Amazingly, it got stronger when it knitted back together. She just hasn’t put it to the test yet.” He leaned forward again, his oddly amiable smile fixed in place as he patted Gray’s knee. “I’ve got a good sense about folks. It’s never steered me wrong.”
“Well, trust me, I don’t want to hurt Ella.” There. Absolute truth. No promises made, though.
“See? I knew it.” Beaming with satisfaction, Eugene eased back into the chair with a wince. “Damned hip. I climbed the stairs to the tower four times yesterday. That was three-and-a-half times too many for my bursitis.”
It was his turn to say something. Some bridge to steer the conversation back towards a topic that didn’t make Gray so uncomfortable. And Eugene’s bum hip could be the perfect segue. “You’re the manager. Can’t you delegate the stair climbing to someone, oh, thirty years younger? Gotta train the next generation to take over, right?” Gray added a hearty laugh to take the sting out of his words.
“When you’ve got a, shall we say, guest complication, there’s not always time to wait for the elevator. Between you and me, the couple who checked out of the tower room this morning were as complicated as a five-thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle. I didn’t want to foist them off on anyone else.”
“You must have an assistant manager.” With the lightness of a whiffle ball, he tossed it out there. No need to show just how interested he truly was in the answer.
“Nope.”
Gray didn’t need to beat around the bush to hide his experience with hotels. Any corporation, no matter how big or small, required an organizational structure with subordinating levels. Law firms had partners and lawyers and paralegals. There were chefs and sous-chefs and line-cooks. Hospitals had attendings and residents and interns. That particular knowledge he’d gleaned over a weekend locked in an Omaha hotel room thanks to a blizzard that coincided with a Grey’s Anatomy marathon on the one channel that wasn’t wiped out by the storm. Not that he’d ever admit his newfound admiration for McSteamy’s luck with the ladies to anyone. Ever.
“An operation this size?” Gray tilted his head back and speared an arm out to indicate the breadth of the castle and its spotlessly manicured grounds. “Ella told me there are actually two hotels. How do you do it all without an assistant?”
Eugene dragged in a long, raspy sigh. “I can’t afford to let Ella think there’s a safety net of an assistant manager. So I do it all myself, and count the days until I don’t have to anymore.”
Now they were getting down to the good stuff. The sort of thing you couldn’t dig up on a business online. The dirt that had to be carefully finessed, in person. “What do you mean?”
Another sigh. Then he drummed the fingers of his right hand on the edge of the table, setting the silverware dancing and clinking. “I’ve got a fully trained assistant. Actually, when it comes right down to it, I’ve got a fully trained replacement. Ella Mayhew.”
The impression Ella gave Gray was that she’d run off to college and massage school without giving the castle and its operations a second thought. If it was true? If she was really primed to take over? It could complicate matters. The rough draft of the report he’d begun last night would need to be tossed. Everything reevaluated. Casually, Gray scratched the back of his neck. “I thought she was just a massage therapist.”
“Right now , she’s just a masseuse. But her parents raised her to run the place. They taught her everything about this hotel. She spent her summers apprenticing in every section of the hotel. Can she cook a four-course meal at the last minute for a hundred wedding guests? No. But does she know how to pull together the team to do it? Absolutely.” He ticked points off on his arthritis-swollen hands. “Sweet-talk the linen vendor into switching tablecloths at the last minute. Wrangle the wait staff who had the night off into coming back in for a shift. Call the florist for fresh centerpieces, including something special for the bridal suite. Juggle twenty other details that are all moving parts. It’d be second nature to Ella.”
It’d be second nature to Gray, too. But he’d keep that to himself. Instead, he’d just keep pushing open the conversational door and hope that Eugene kept barreling through it. “It’d be a lot of work.”
Eugene gave a dismissive wave. “Oh, there’d be some glitches while she settled in. But this hotel needs a Mayhew at the top spot. I just have to wait for her to realize it. So I hide my limp in front of her, try not to complain about my aches and pains. I’ve already put off retirement.”
Gray gave the manager a longer, assessing glance. Still spry enough. Lots of hair. Also lots of deep creases around the eyes and mouth. Forehead, too. One hand was plastered to the aching hip. Eugene hid it well, but he had to be on the wrong side of seventy. “Really? For how long?”
“Too long. Supposed to make the announcement the month her parents were killed. My first grandchild had just been born. Little Bella. What a cutie.” Gray hoped he wasn’t about to be on the receiving end of the wallet photo whip-out. The last thing he needed was a ten-minute ramble down memory lane. “No way I could leave Ella in the lurch. I put it off. She never even knew. And now she won’t hear of anyone taking my place. Every time I bring it up, she hugs me. Says she can’t imagine the place without me. So I stay.”
Gray gaped at him. The selflessness displayed by Eugene blew him away. Stay on an extra six months to hire and train a replacement? Sure. But to hang in there for three years? With no foreseeable change in sight? That level of loyalty to the Mayhews and to their Manor spoke volumes. And it added yet another layer of complication to his overall evaluation.
“That’s amazing. No matter the circumstances, most people wouldn’t postpone their retirement for years. It takes a special kind of man.”
Eugene shrugged off the praise. “Problem is, I can’t wait much longer. Bella’s got a brother now. I promised I’d help look after them when their mother goes back to work in two months.”
Sounded to Gray like Eugene was pink-slipping himself. And soon. “Does Ella know?”
The corners of his mouth turned down, creating even deeper jowls. “Not yet. I was waiting for something. The right moment. A sign, I guess. And then you showed up.”
Oh, that was a sign all right. A sign that big changes were around the corner. Just not the ones Eugene expected. “Look, I like Ella. It’s no secret that I hope to spend more time with her while I’m here. But I’m only here for two weeks.” He said it slowly and clearly, so there’d be no possible confusion. No mixed message from Gray. Not to Eugene, not to Ella, and sure as hell not to himself.
“She looks so happy with you.” Damn it. Eugene’s comment seemed to ignore Gray’s last sentence. The most important one. The one that flat out told him not to pin any hopes on a future for Ella and Gray. “It does my old heart good to see it.”
The guilt returned, strangling Gray with a mix of remorse and shame. More than a little self-loathing, too. For years he’d maintained a clear line between mixing his work assignments with women. Gray was smart enough to know it could get messy. There was only one reason he’d given in to the temptation that was Ella. They both knew, from the start, that their time together came with a rapidly approaching expiration date.
But now the situation was getting complicated. He didn’t like knowing that he held the power to shape her future with his report. Gray disliked even more hiding that awkward fact from her. And now other people were involved in this sticky mess. What if there were more people like Eugene, getting their hopes up over nothing? More friends or employees who saw Gray as the lifeline that could pull Ella up the last few feet out of her well of despair? When in actuality, he might end up kicking her straight back into it.
Getting involved with Ella was a huge mistake. A Hindenburg sized mistake. A doping in the Tour de France and assuming you won’t get caught sized mistake. One he certainly couldn’t backpedal from with Eugene sitting there grinning at him. Escape was the only answer. He shot out of his chair.
“Don’t think for a second that I’m going to help you break the news. Or try to convince her to give up the job she loves to take over the one she’s run from her whole life.”
“She’s told you a lot. That’s good.” Another knowing nod.
Gray didn’t know how he’d gotten painted as the savior in this scenario. “Eugene, I wish you luck. But for both our sakes, I’m planning to pretend we never had this conversation.”
With a double-thump of his hand on the table for goodbye, he hurried around the edge of the building. Didn’t want to waste a second opening the door and cutting through the building. That led to the potential of seeing Ella. Right at this second, he didn’t know what he might say to her.
Unfortunately, it was clear to Gray that this thing between them—unlabeled yet undeniable—had to stop. Even contact as innocuous as their shared breakfasts was now laced with far too much meaning and potential. So he had twenty- two hours to figure out how to back out of their next non-date. Not that he’d be able to shake his attraction to Ella nearly that quickly. God, there were days he hated his job. And those days were rapidly outnumbering the days he liked it. Gray jingled his car keys as he picked up his pace across the wide lawn. This would definitely take more coffee.