CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Sutton
“So we’ve experienced five of the top-ten list so far,” Brady says, running a line through Jeep ride adventures on my tacked list to the bulletin board. “Thoughts?”
“My thoughts are that all five are feasible for Ocean’s Edge. The question is, how do we adapt them to make them unique? Same goes with employment contracts.”
“I spoke with Teresa today,” Brady says about Sharpe International’s employment contract lawyer.
“And?”
“We went through the employee requests item by item. I explained how they compare to other resorts here, as well as gave my opinion on which ones were dealbreakers. She’s going to draw up a new contract so we have somewhere to start with Solomon,” he says, referring to Ocean’s Edge’s employee representative.
“Good. That’s great,” I say. “I spoke to two interior designers today and have a call with one later to begin a renovation plan.”
“Did you like either of the two you spoke with?”
“The first one not so much. Her mood board said contemporary modern over classic elegance and she fought me on that so she’s a no-go.
The second had some great ideas. We’ll see what the third says and then make a decision by the end of the week.
We need to get the ball rolling on that so plans can be submitted and materials ordered.
The reno most likely will happen after my time here is up, but you’ll have everything in place for a seamless process. ”
He snorts. “Seamless and renovation do not belong in the same sentence.”
“I know, but one can hope,” I murmur, getting distracted by an email that pops up on my screen from Roz in regards to our conversation earlier. “Oh, and ecotourism is a definite go.”
“It is?” Brady looks up from his computer, his voice full of surprise as he lifts his chin toward Callahan’s office. “You got the okay on it?”
A knowing smile slides across my lips. “We negotiated. I won.”
Brady does a double take and fist-bumps me across the desk. “Kicking ass and taking names. I like it.” He does a little dance that has me laughing and then stills immediately.
I look over to see Callahan standing there, shoulder leaning against the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, and his eyebrows raised.
Brady is frozen in place, and the sight of his raised eyebrows and mouth shocked into an “O” with the imposing figure of Callahan over his shoulder is comical.
“Something funny?” Callahan asks.
He heard me. I know he heard me, and it’s written all over that gorgeous face of his.
“We were just celebrating. I was telling Brady that after some thorough negotiations, you agreed to let me move forward with the ecotourism signage as well as offering the customized tours for our guests.”
“Some very thorough negotiations, indeed.”
How can he look at me with such a measured, aloof expression when I can’t even look him straight in the eyes without picturing him looking up at me from between my thighs the other night? In the office a few feet away, no less.
“Yes. Very.”
“Well, the activities and the amenities are the easy part. You won on that round. Now we need to get to the hard part. Staff benefits, budget projections for salaries, and the costs for updating the décor.”
“Yes, sir,” I say. “Brady and I were just discussing that before you walked in.”
“We were,” Brady says with a nod.
“Good to see that you two are working well together,” Callahan murmurs. “I also think it would be a nice touch to have homemade brownies delivered to every guest’s room upon arrival as a welcome gift.”
I all but choke on the sip of coffee I just took. “Brownies?”
He smirks when his eyes meet mine. “Yes. Brownies.” He looks from Brady to me and then back. “Think of it as, what do they call it? Brownie points, if you will, for choosing to stay here.”
“Brownie points?” Brady repeats.
“Exactly.” A stoic nod of Callahan’s head. “Keep up the good work. Carry on.”
He walks out of the office like he does every afternoon to get a late workout in before heading to meetings or falling asleep on the chair in the villa with his laptop on his knees and spreadsheets fanned out across the table.
Staring at the door he just left through, I can’t help but come to the realization that it’s even harder to resist him than I originally thought.
I just have to keep reminding myself I don’t care about him. Not his hard work or dedication here. Not the faraway look he gets in his eyes every once in a while when someone mentions his father. Not the raised voices I hear behind closed doors when a call from one of his brothers comes in.
And definitely not the fact that he keeps trying to answer my question when it’s unanswerable to begin with.