"Here Comes Trouble" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kauffman Donna)

Chapter 11

Kirby sipped her coffee and shuddered at the volcanic strength of it. But she desperately needed something to kick-start her into the day. Day One of her personal thirty-day death march. Well, her inn’s death march, anyway.

She stared at the computer monitor and the online bank statement she’d opened up; then she finally slid her glasses off and closed her eyes. She’d been juggling bills for almost three months now, pretty much since the day she’d opened. Initially, she’d still had a little something to juggle with. She’d known that without a sudden drop in temperatures and some snow, she was courting total failure. But she’d been trying to remain hopeful, positive. After all, how long could the damn heat wave last? It was unnatural. She’d honestly thought that things would turn around.

The call yesterday evening from Albert, a local tax accountant she’d hired early on to help her set up her books, had made it clear that her turnaround time was pretty much over. Her tax bill come April was going to be the felling blow, but the bank was already grumbling about her loan payments and Albert wasn’t sure she’d even make it long enough to be worrying about the IRS.

At the moment, she was numb. Too numb to even cry. She’d poured so much of herself, of…well, everything she’d had left in her after the disastrous end with Patrick, and every bit of what she’d been able to summon up after her life had taken such a drastic new course. She’d been determined to look at the ending with Patrick as the beginning of herself.

This was her rise from the ashes; this was her celebration of what her life could be. This was the middle finger she’d given to Patrick, to fate, and anyone else who’d ever made her feel like she couldn’t take care of business. Which, when it came down to it, she’d realized, was all on her. As Aunt Frieda had said often enough, “Just because folks don’t understand, respect, or support what you think is true about yourself doesn’t mean you have to listen to them.” Kirby had only needed to listen to herself. But she’d let the other voices, so many of them, drown her own out.

It had taken seeing her chosen partner for who he really was-who he’d always been if she’d just been more willing to see the truth-and the following hard look at what she’d allowed herself to believe, to accept as okay, for her to finally, at the age of thirty-seven, examine her life, her choices, and what she was going to do about it-moving forward.

And she had moved forward. She was proud, almost fiercely so, of what she’d accomplished here. The one thing she knew now was that if the current combination of events conspired to end this new dream, this new path…well, she’d simply find another one.

She dropped her forehead to the edge of her desk. “I just really, really don’t want to.” It would be so easy to wallow, to blame fate, to sink into that place where it was all about being the victim and not being in control of her life. She wouldn’t do that. Couldn’t. But, right at that very moment, she simply didn’t know where she was going to find the strength to rise again.

On a surge of anger, aimed at both the world in general and at herself in particular for not having an immediate plan of action, she shoved her chair back, took up her mug, and stalked into the kitchen. She hadn’t eaten since the middle of the day before and that wasn’t helping the hollow pit of dread in her stomach. Of course, the thought of food at that moment was abhorrent, but it was something she could do instead of staring and swearing. She popped the fridge door open and saw the neatly stacked containers of pasta and sauce. Her stomach gurgled. Pasta for breakfast. She reached for the container. Why the hell not?

She was heating up a bowl of noodles when Brett walked into the kitchen. “Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” She kept her gaze on the microwave door. As if that was going to speed things along. But she didn’t know what to say to him, so it was a handy distraction. The bell dinged and she slid the bowl out.

“Pasta for breakfast?” he said, coming closer but stopping at the cook island.

“Sounded like a good idea at the time.” She fished in the silverware drawer for a fork. “Thank you for saving some for me. And for cleaning up. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t mind.” He took another step closer. “Kirby-”

He broke off, and she paused in the act of forking up her first mouthful and glanced at him directly for the first time.

“I’m sorry,” he said, surprising her.

She lowered her fork. “For what?”

“Whatever’s going on with you. And for pushing last night. I just wanted to help out. I still do.”

“If I don’t fill this inn to capacity by the weekend and keep it that way until at least the middle of April, I’m going to lose the place,” she said, putting it out there without meaning to but too tired to get back into the verbal cat and mouse game they had played last night. “I don’t think there’s anything you can do about that, but I appreciate the concern.” She realized she sounded less than gracious and was certainly not on good hostess behavior, not by a long shot, but there didn’t seem to be much she could do about it. Brett was a guest, but he wasn’t exactly a guest. And he’d asked for the truth, so she refused to feel bad about giving him what he’d asked for.

“Actually,” he said, just as calm as he’d been before her less-than-cheerful reply. “I could. Help, that is.”

“How? You have a lot of poker buddies who need a place to hole up for a few months, get out of the desert for a while?”

He smiled at that. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. If Vermont had a gaming commission, I could probably get a game going out here, make you all kinds of revenue.”

“We have a lottery, but no gambling that I’m aware of.”

He didn’t respond right away, and it was clear his mind was spinning on something.

“What are you thinking?”

“I was thinking maybe something for charity. There are ways around the rules, or to make them work for you, anyway.”

She straightened from where she’d been leaning against the counter by the sink. “That’s-well, that’s actually a very nice idea, but if anything like that even looked like it was going to happen here, I can bet you the resort would find a way to co-opt it. They’d be equipped for it.”

“Yes, they would. And that would be exactly the way to go.”

She took her bite and then gestured to him with her fork. “So, how would that help me?”

“Because putting on an event like that isn’t just about bringing in a few players. It’s a lot more complex, and there are a lot of tentacles. I’m sure your place and any other place around here with rooms to spare would have no problem booking.”

“Is professional poker that big a draw?”

He didn’t say anything to that, and the light dawned.

“You’re that big a draw.”

“Do you want me to look into it?”

It was both a non-answer and all the answer she needed. Maybe it was time to do a little research on Brett. She’d been curious, but out of respect for his request, she hadn’t done any digging. Besides, in the past twenty-four hours, her thoughts had been on other issues. But with this offer, it appeared all bets were off when it came to leaving the past in the past.

“Could you honestly set something up that quickly?” She immediately waved a hand. “Forget I said that. I’m sorry. I have no business exploiting your fame, or livelihood.”

“I’m pretty sure I offered. That’s not exploiting.”

“You came here to get away from that. You’re a good guy, Brett, an incredibly nice guy, but I don’t want you to do something that you otherwise wouldn’t do.” She waved off his response again. “It’s amazingly generous of you to even offer. And I am appreciative, even if I don’t sound like it. But even if I was willing to let you do that, I think it would be too late to save me-the inn, I mean. And then you’d have done all of that for nothing.”

Now he closed the gap between them. He carefully took the bowl of pasta out of her hands and set it on the counter. Then he stepped right up into her personal space, pinning her back against the counter before he’d even touched her. Kirby could have scooted away. She could have done a lot of things. But she didn’t. And what that said about how much she’d learned regarding what she should accept, and what she should stand up to, she didn’t want to know.

But sticking her ground, at that moment, felt like the right thing to do. And if she was just lying to herself about that, well she could add that to the list of things to beat herself up over later.

“I want to help you, Kirby. One of the things about having achieved the successes I have is that I am in a position to do things like that. I kind of thought it must be something pretty drastic when you walked in here last night and, barring bad news about a family member, your business was the only thing I could think of that would put that look on your face. So, I gave it a lot of thought, but until just now, I didn’t see a clear path on how to help. Other than just hand you a chunk of cash to bail you out, if that was the problem, which I’d do. Hell, I’ll buy the damn place and you pay me back instead. I’m a lot friendlier than the banks. But I figured you’d be too proud to do something like that, despite the fact that I wouldn’t think one iota less of you for doing so. It won’t put a dent in my world, and it could make all the difference in yours.”

“You’re right. I couldn’t accept that kind of offer.” She looked past his shoulder, then made herself look back at him. “So, you’d already spent time thinking about this before you came in here?”

“Yes. If it was something with your family or a friend, I’d just do whatever I could to ease the situation, but if it was your business, the inn, then I figured a more direct kind of help would be better. I just didn’t know how to do that. But the charity event is perfect. It’s a way to do good, all the way around, without much of a downside.”

“Except putting you back in the world you just drove cross-country on a bike to get away from.”

“That’s my decision.”

“It feels like all of this is your decision.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. You can decide whether or not to take what I’m offering. I can’t force that solution on you. All I can do is let you know it’s available if you think it would help. But it’s your choice, your business to keep or lose, your life. If you have other ideas, then that’s great. I’ll help you there, too, if there is any way that I can.”

“Why?”

That stopped him. “What do you mean, why?”

“Why is it so important to you to help me? I realize we had sex, and I realize that you’re going to move on to whatever it is you decide to do next. This is merely a stop on your journey.”

“What in the hell does that have to do with me helping you? Do you think this is some kind of angle for some other…I don’t even know. What other agenda could you possibly think I have? I know you have some issues you’re dealing with, and I’m not talking about the inn now but with going forward with new relationships. You were totally up front with me about that. But I’m being totally up front with you. I have no other agenda other than I can help, I see you need some, and so why wouldn’t I step up?”

She’d pissed him off. Which she was sorry for, but it also was kind of fascinating to see. He was typically so laid back, matter of fact, but so soft spoken in the way he stated his thoughts. So this…this was different. And she wasn’t going to lie, it had her attention in more ways than one.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I was out of line, but I didn’t mean any insult. You’re right. I’m not as evolved as I thought I was. I still have some hang-ups-”

“I said issues. We all have them.”

“Whatever the case, you’re right. I’ve been too complacent in the past, too willing to let others dictate the course, even when I didn’t agree with it. I don’t want to do that anymore. So, it’s important to me to find my own solutions. To figure things out on my own.”

He surprised her by smiling. “Okay. So…you found me.”

“Actually, you found me. Or the inn, anyway.”

“Chicken and egg. The bottom line is I’m in your life and if you’re someone who looks at fate or things having a bigger meaning, then maybe that’s why I’m here. The point is, you are in control of this. I’m just saying I could be the solution to this problem.” His smile grew and it made that twinkle come to life in his eyes. “Maybe you’re just supposed to be smart enough to recognize a solution when there is one and use it to your advantage.”

She couldn’t help it, she smiled, too. “Either you really believe what you’re saying, or you’re an amazing bullshit artist.”

“It’s possible there is a little of both there.”

“So, what’s in it for you? You probably already know that your chances of getting lucky again are in your favor. And I doubt you’re looking for a free ride on your room charges.”

“Actually, I’m not certain of anything where you’re concerned. A pushover you are not.”

Now she smiled. “Well, then I’m making progress.”

“As for what’s in it for me? It’ll make me happy to help you out, to see you push through this stumbling block and have the chance to make this place be what you know it can be. You can’t help the weather.” He finally reached up and touched her face.

It took remarkable control not to rub her cheek into his palm.

“Let me do something good here. It helps me, too. Okay?”

“You make it really, really hard, you know that?”

He reached for her hips, tugged her up against him. “Well, then, I’d say we’re even.”

She laughed even as she blushed, which was kind of funny given what they’d been doing in this very kitchen just yesterday.

“Eat your pasta,” he told her, reaching past her to pick up the container.

“Now you’re going to ride herd on my food intake?”

He tucked the container into her hands and then framed her face and kissed her. Hard. “No,” he said when he lifted his head. “I just think stamina is probably going to be a good thing.”

“You think so, do you?” she said, going for sanguine, missing by a mile. He was…hell, she couldn’t even quantify any longer what he was.

“Let’s just say I’m hoping.” He pressed a finger to her mouth, then stroked her bottom lip. “And if you say anything else about my offer to help being some kind of insurance for extra favors, I will take that as a direct insult. Other than being one of the many reasons why I’m all wrapped up in you, this,” he said, dropping another hard kiss on her mouth, “has nothing to do with that.”

“Wasn’t going to say a word,” she said, looking a bit stunned.

“Good.” He nudged the bowl at her. “Eat.”

“Not all that hungry all of a sudden.”

“Hmm. Well.” His smile spread slowly. “Maybe we should focus on building your appetite, then. As it happens, I have quite an appetite. Where you’re concerned, anyway.”

Her entire body responded to his suggestion in ways that the best comfort food in the world couldn’t have appealed to her. “Shouldn’t we be working on…whatever it is we have to do to see if your idea will work?”

“I just have to make a few calls, find out what the time frame will have to be. It won’t take that much to generate interest; then it’s just a matter of figuring out the logistics.”

He kissed Kirby’s knitted brows. “Don’t worry. I’ll set it up so it works out for the best. For both of us.”

“Okay,” she said, still torn between massive relief and being a little worried that he was leaping before he was looking. “So, what happens next?”

“I’ll make those calls; then we’ll have to wait to get some feedback. I don’t think it will take long.” He brushed her hair from her cheek. “I know we can make this work.”

She took a short, shaky breath. “Okay. Wow, but okay.” She looked at him. “You’re sure?”

“One hundred percent sure. The question isn’t will it work, but how long it will take to put together.”

“All right.” She smiled a little, then, more confidently. “All right.”

He laughed. “See? Not all that hard, right?”

She laughed, too. “Oh, I didn’t say that. But I appreciate this, Brett. All of it. Your proposed solution and making it easier to say yes to accepting your help. This is the best solution I could hope for. Win-win.” Then she held his gaze in steady regard and grew more serious. “As long as you promise me this isn’t going to put you in a place you don’t need to be. I don’t know all the reasons you stopped playing, or why you left Vegas. But I can’t move forward with fixing my problem if it adds to yours.”

“I’m a big boy. I know what I’m doing.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He bracketed her hips and tugged her closer again. “So, I was thinking, we could either stand around here in the kitchen and talk about not eating my very fine pasta, or…”

Her stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. They both laughed.

“I’m not sure, but I think I was just flattered and insulted all at the same time.”

She shook her head. “But maybe I should at least make an effort. Is there anything I can do…with the rest of this? Any calls I can make locally to get the ball rolling?”

“Once I get things started out west, then yes, it’s definitely going to have to be a team effort.”

“Team efforts are good.” She picked up the pasta and found that she was kind of ravenous all of a sudden.

“Agreed.” He stepped back, gave her some space, and went to fix himself a cup of coffee.

Too late, she thought to warn him about the toxic level of caffeine she’d been shooting for earlier and had to apologize when he gagged. “Sorry.”

“Wow,” was all he said after he finished choking. “Sort of like a caffeine Slurpee.”

“Pretty much. I didn’t sleep. I needed a boost.”

“Astronauts need a boost. This is…wow.”

She sat down her bowl. “Let me make another pot.”

“I can do that. Eat.”

She saluted him with her fork. “Yes sir, captain sir.”

“It’s not so much about bossing you around as it is about me making a cup of coffee that won’t keep me up until 2025.”

“I’d call you on that, but you might have a point.” She gestured to the cupboard over the coffeemaker. “The beans are in there, and the grinder.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Freshly ground coffee?”

He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. She went back to forking up her now cold pasta. It was quite possibly the most delicious thing she’d ever eaten. “You know, and I’m not trying to butt in or anything, but given that you have apparently cashed in more than a few poker chips in your day, you could go out and get your own grinder and coffeemaker and have freshly ground and brewed coffee every single morning. Just saying.”

“For that I’d have to stay in one place for more than a week at a time. And remember to buy beans.”

“So you travel a lot? Are famous poker players like rock stars where you have a list of things you request that have to be in your dressing room?”

“We don’t get dressing rooms.”

“Right, you get actual rooms. Humongous suites in fancy hotels. Well, if the movies are to be believed.”

She looked at him expectantly. He didn’t refute her supposition, other than to say, “Little inns in Vermont are more my speed.”

“So, in these big, fancy suites, can’t you make a few demands?”

“I could try.”

“But you don’t.”

“Never thought I needed anything that badly to be a pretentious ass about it.”

“Back to that arrogant-cocky argument.”

“Something like that.”

She made a humming noise and continued to regard him while she ate and he went about making the perfect cup of coffee with his new bright, shiny object. Boys and their toys, she thought. In Brett’s case, that included bikes and, apparently, bean grinders. She wondered to what other realms his interests extended.

“I can hear the wheels,” he said as he flipped off the grinder.

“That was the coffee grinder.”

He shot her a smile over his shoulder. “No, that was you, trying to figure out which of the million questions you have were okay to ask.”

She waved her fork at him. “Now that could be mistaken for arrogance.”

“Only if it wasn’t true.” He continued to look at her.

A little flush climbed her cheeks. “Okay, okay. Guilty as charged. But I wasn’t going to say anything, or ask anything.” At least not right that second.

“Well, now that I’m bringing my world to yours, I can hardly ask that you take me separately from all that. And you might as well know what you’re really getting into.”

“Such as?”

“In order to pull this off, it needs to be an event. A big event.”

Kirby still hadn’t wrapped her mind around all of the ramifications of Brett’s offered solution as yet. Heck, she hadn’t even wrapped her mind around the basic concept that Brett would be willing to do any of this for her in the first place. They hardly knew one another. She didn’t know him well enough to know for certain if this was a truly selfless act, or perhaps a step he wanted or needed to take for himself. Then again, if it got her what she needed, and helped him in some way, wasn’t that a win-win proposition? What did she care what he got out of it, if it solved her immediate problems?

“How big is big? I assume it will help the resort, since they’re hurting pretty big, too. And their continued success is vital for my continued success, so that’s all a good thing. And the town wins, too, with increased revenue, however briefly, from more visitors coming and spending their money here. What else do I need to know?”

He ducked his chin for a moment, and Kirby wondered again about his stake in this. He had, on the surface, anyway, left poker playing behind. Did he want to go back? Was this a way to ease himself back into the limelight and possibly garner the goodwill and support of event coordinators who might have been less than thrilled with his sudden defection from the game?

But then he was looking at her again, and there was nothing in his expression to help her decide. Only what he had to say, which was, “You know from Thad that I’m well known in that world.”

“All I know is what Thad said. If that’s what you’re wondering. I haven’t Googled you or anything. But yes, I did get the impression that you were something of a rock star in Vegas.”

“Poker tournaments are played all over, but even outside of Nevada, there is always a Vegas element to it all. I call it seedy glamour. Those are our roots, and while we might have dressed it up quite a bit over the years, scratch just below the surface and it really hasn’t strayed too far from that.”

“Are you saying that Pennydash is too conservative to handle a little flash?”

Brett chuckled at that. “Sweetheart, where I come from there’s no such thing as a ‘little flash.’ But no, I wasn’t speaking to the conservative bent of the area, though that might make a few folks uneasy, so it shouldn’t be discounted. I meant that it will be a spectacle by anyone’s standards, and everyone on board would need to understand that.”

She sat her empty container in the sink. “Define spectacle.”

“In addition to some very flashy players and, in some cases, the ridiculous entourages that come with them, you’ll have the promoters, who rarely say no to bling in any form, and that includes the complete media circus in all its many forms.”

“So, you’re saying we’ll be overrun with paparazzi or something?”

“Possibly.”

“For poker?” She lifted a hand. “That sounded like an insult, it wasn’t. I just meant-”

“The sports media will be there for the regular pros. The paps come out for the Hollywood celebrities. You might be surprised by how many of them play at a pretty high level. Promoters love them because they raise the buy-in.”

“Buy-in?”

“Players have to pay to enter the tournament. A ten-thousand buy-in is normal once you get to a certain level. And the more players buying in, the bigger the pots.”

“Ten thousand? Dollars? Just to play?”

He nodded. “And for many celebrities, that’s chump change, so it’s like their version of going to Disney for the weekend. Only the rides are a little more exciting.”

“So…you’re planning on inviting celebrities? I mean, ones known outside your field?”

He nodded. “It’s for charity. It will be a no-brainer, trust me. And I’ll get some pretty serious poker names here, too.”

“Because of charity?”

“Partly. There are some pretty big philanthropists in the upper echelons.”

“Including you?”

“I make it a point to give back, yes.”

“So, am I your current charity, then?” She wasn’t exactly insulted by it. She could hardly afford to be, and she knew his heart was in the right place.

“I don’t look at charity perhaps the same way you do. I like to give a helping hand or a leg up when I can. Folks did that for me, so it’s just giving back. I simply have the good fortune of being able to give back a lot.”

“That’s pretty great. And even greater that you do. I’m not even sure where to start in saying thank you. You’ve saved my life. Twice.”

“Just help me get this thing up and running. If it helps you get through this initial hump with the inn, helps the town and the resort get through this opening season, and supports a worthwhile cause at the same time, then it’s all worth it. You have many more winters to weather. I’m just helping you through this first one.”

“As leg ups go, it’s a pretty big one. I don’t know what to say.”

“I think we’re good on that score.”

She felt her eyes begin to burn a little, and she’d be damned if she cried in front of him every time things got a little emotional. She felt like an idiot for the whole shower thing yesterday. Sure, it had been a monumental moment for her, but he must have thought she was at least a little pathetic. And now, today, he was trying to rescue her. Again.

She felt, strongly, that this…relationship, if she could call it that, wasn’t anything like what she’d fallen into with Patrick. With what she’d allowed her life to become while being part of his. She tried, hard, to cling to what Brett had said, about finding opportunities and choosing to take advantage of them. He was here; he was willing to help. And whatever he got out of the deal would have nothing to do with her when it was all said and done. Totally, completely, different from Patrick. Not a rescue. More like a joining of forces. Because she was a force.

Even if, at the moment, she felt like a force on the verge of becoming a failure.

Brett finished brewing his coffee and she thought back over what he’d said. “The other players,” she said, thinking out loud, “you said some of them would come to support a good cause, but most of them are going to come to get a chance to play against you, aren’t they?”

He took a careful sip of his coffee, then turned back to face her. “Yes.” Neither humble nor arrogant. He’d said it like a simply stated fact.

“How long has it been since you played?”

“Long enough to make folks hungry.”

She didn’t push, but she was unabashedly curious to know more about his world. “You’ve really thought that part of this through? I don’t want you doing anything rash in the heat of the moment.”

“I’m very well aware of what I’m doing.”

She tilted her head. “That’s kind of a non-answer.”

“It’s the truth.”

So, she decided, this was how he was going to go with it now. He’d made his past fair game for her, but he was going to be all about the facts and just the facts, ma’am. She could hardly be picky. But it only served to make her more curious, not less. She decided it might be less awkward all around if she did her own digging on the subject of his career, get her own answers. And, if possible, do as he’d initially asked, and use what time they did have together to get to know him, outside of all that.

“What’s on the agenda today for you?” he asked.

“Cleaning the rooms.”

He lifted a questioning eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m aware the inn isn’t exactly overflowing, but the rooms have to be dusted, swept, polished, fluffed. I can’t have someone just stroll in unannounced and then make them wait in the foyer while I rush up to make sure there’s no dust on the furniture. I need to keep it guest-ready at all times.”

“I think about what the workload would be like if the place was full. Were you planning on hiring help? Like cleaning or cooking?”

“I was, during the busy season. But I planned on doing as much of it myself as I could, too. I like keeping busy-the busier the better. Less time to think.” She hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud, and when his gaze narrowed a bit on her, she rushed on. “It’s actually kind of fun, all the rushing around and making things right for my guests. I enjoy the noise and the general chaos of it all. It feels…vital. And I like being in the middle of all that.”

Brett’s gaze stayed quite focused on Kirby, and she realized she was holding her breath, waiting for whatever question he lobbed her way. She could hardly duck it, given the open stance he’d now taken with her where anything having to do with him was fair game. He already knew about Patrick, but all he understood was the basic context, that she’d been betrayed by someone who was supposed to have her best interests at heart. And she was good with that.

He saw a lot, too much, at times, so she was braced. Which was why what he did say came as a complete surprise. “Other than the screen, do you have any other stuff that needs to get done?”

“You-have got to be kidding. I couldn’t possibly ask anything else of you.”

“You aren’t asking. I’m offering. I am generally happiest when I have projects to work on.”

“I’d say you have a pretty big one at the moment.”

“Initially it’s going to be a bunch of phone calls.” He smiled. “I like to work with my hands.”

She couldn’t help it, she smiled, too. And flushed, maybe a little. “Yes, well, that’s great, but I can’t just-”

“Kirby.” He sat down his empty coffee mug and walked over to where she stood, still by the sink.

She liked how much bigger he was; it gave her this private little thrill every time he got into her personal space. She wondered if he could read that on her face, too. “What?” she replied gamely.

“You can just. You like to stay busy because it keeps you from having to think. I like to stay busy because it helps me think. I can’t sit and stare at the walls.” He stepped even closer. Then he lifted the hair from her neck and ears with the backs of his hands as he slid his fingers around to her nape.

It was all she could do not to moan a little as he brushed his fingertips over such sensitive skin.

“So, you can either go clean rooms while I bang nails into something…or we can go mess up a few rooms first. And I can work off this pent-up energy in an entirely different way.”

By banging me, she thought, and her entire body stood up and shouted yes. Emphatically so. She had every intention of smiling and saying no. She had an inn to save. Now was not the time to be frolicking naked with carefree abandon. So, it came as a surprise to them both, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, when she put her hands up on his shoulders and slid them around to the back of his neck and said, “I’ve found that dusting and scrubbing is a highly overrated method of distraction.”

“I find I couldn’t agree more.” He leaned in and kissed her, quite soundly, then made her squeal by lifting her up into his arms.

“Brett-”

He managed to nudge open the door to the narrow back stairway. “This feels rather indecent somehow, doesn’t it?” He looked down into her face, and his eyes were fully sparkling, his smile wide, and he’d never looked more handsome to her.

“Wicked, yes,” she said. “Having your way with the backstairs help.”

“Hold on.” He slid her legs around, but when they both wouldn’t fit on the skinny risers, he made her squeal again and grab at his belt loops as he slipped her over his shoulder.

“I can walk,” she said breathlessly.

“Where’s the wicked fun in that?”

They passed the door to the first floor. He wasn’t even out of breath. She still hadn’t found hers. “Where are we going?”

“I thought we’d start at the top. My room.” He pushed through the narrow door at the top of the stairs, then bumped open his own door, which he hadn’t closed all the way, and kicked it shut behind him. He laid her out on his bed and followed her down. “Then we can work our way down,” he added. “What do you say?”

He was already pushing up her shirt and sliding down her body.

“I think…working our way down…could be a very good idea,” she said on a breathless laugh.

He unzipped her pants and slipped them down her hips, taking her panties with them.

“Inspired, even,” she managed to gasp as he kissed his way back up her inner thigh.

It was impossible to believe that a mere hour ago all hope had seemed lost…and now, not only was there a plan to save her inn, but the gorgeous, sexy man responsible for saving it was about to make love to her. Again.

He slid his tongue over her as his hands moved up under her shirt and over her rock-hard nipples. She arched her back and lost all track of any thought she might have ever had as he took her body on that sweet, sweet climb. So effortlessly, so perfectly.

Distractions, indeed.