Here Comes Trouble (18 page)

“But you were giving him something as well.”

“See, I guess that’s where I never quite really grasped that equity. I always felt I had to live up to it, earn it.”

“It being what, exactly?”

“Happiness. In my case, in my mind, that meant making Patrick happy, or making him love me. And that sounds so deeply pathetic. Like I didn’t think I was worth anything just by being myself. But I did. At least where the business part of it was.” She fell silent again, her thoughts clearly drifting inward.

“Just maybe not with the relationship part, huh?” he asked quietly.

She looked at him, and her eyes were stark again. “Yeah,” she said, her voice softer, a bit rougher. “Just maybe not with the relationship part.”

He stroked her hair a while longer, let her epiphany simmer a bit longer inside her head. Because he was pretty sure she already had most of this figured out long before this conversation. She’d felt duped, used, both in their private life and in their professional one. He couldn’t imagine the pain of that, coming from the most trusted person in her world. It had to have been the deepest blow imaginable. But Brett assumed she already figured out why she’d hung in there so long on a promise that was never delivered upon, the one of marriage and family.

That flash of pain, of sudden, stark awareness, had been some other link, some other connection, she’d finally made within herself. It made him want to know more. She’d said it made her think about who she’d been with Patrick and who she’d been before him. So, this went deeper into the past, he thought, to her childhood maybe. Something to do with the link the love of her adult life had to the love given to her in her childhood.

A pain that stark, a sadness that profound, had to reach pretty deep. He knew that part from personal experience. Experience he was no more excited to delve into and share than she probably was. It was enough that she’d gained a bit of insight, perhaps put a few more puzzle pieces of herself together. He’d thought about things like that a lot on his trek. Who he’d been, who he’d become, who and what were important to him. And what would truly make him happy.

He didn’t know how it would affect how she felt about him, but he was beginning to see the struggle she faced. Having loved a man for so long who, in reality, had never fully loved her back. Now getting herself involved with him, a man who, at best, didn’t even know what he wanted for himself, much less in a relationship with someone else.

It bothered him, more than a little, to realize that he was not, perhaps, someone she should invest herself in emotionally. He might not have had anything close to a traditional upbringing, and adulthood, thus far, certainly hadn’t changed that path. But he’d always known himself to be a good, honest, decent person, with a strong heart and solid dedication to those he loved. He had pride and integrity. He was a good man who felt worthy of giving and getting love.

So it was hard to accept that he might not be worthy of her. That, because of the kind of life he led, the uncertain future ahead, he could never be the right man for her.

More stunning still was the realization that, for the first time, outside family, he wanted to be the right man. There was a brief sensation of
finally,
and the relief of knowing for absolute certainty he did have that inside of him. He’d wondered. More than once. But there was no continued glory or joy in the discovery…because his
finally
was with Kirby.

Dammit.

She reached up and tapped his chin gently with the pad of her fingertip. “Now who’s lost in thought?”

His lips curved briefly, but for once he didn’t feel much like smiling.

She shifted a bit higher until his gaze met hers. “We’re quite a pair, you know.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I think we both have some stuff, in our past, that makes us a little misfit for traditional roles.”

“I don’t know why you’d say that about yourself. You’re running a place trying to make it a home away from home for other people.”

“Right,” she said softly, “because I haven’t figured out how to make one for myself. So this gives me one by proxy.”

It made his heart tight. “Kirby—”

“Don’t go feeling all sorry for me; that’s not what I meant. I just meant, we’ve both reached a certain age, we’ve both had our successes in life, but we’re both still trying to figure the rest out.”

“Maybe that’s what life is anyway. Trying to figure out what comes next. Life changes; goals change.”

“True. But I know some of the things I want. Or wanted, anyway. And I couldn’t get them.”

“So you make new goals.”

“I did.”

“But?”

She smiled, but there was a definite wistfulness in her eyes. “Life goes on, and you try and move along with it, but you realize that maybe the old goals are still the ones you wanted all along.” She slid up a bit farther until she could take his face in her hands. “Don’t look all worried on me. I’m not going to try and mold you to fit my dreams, okay? I know you’ve got your own things to work out.” She kissed him, and it was sweet and stirring and achingly poignant, all at the same time. “I’m not going to get in your way, okay?”

He pulled her the rest of the way up, then rolled so she was under him again. He kissed her, and there was nothing sweet or tender about it. She responded to him instantly. And his body, so recently sated, roared to life again. He didn’t know what he was doing, just that he was suddenly angry and scared and uncertain and he didn’t want to be any of those things. What he wanted was to be buried deep inside Kirby again, where everything felt intensely, perfectly right.

If she seemed surprised by his sudden ardor, by the ferocity in the way he took her, she didn’t show it. Instead she rose right to the occasion and matched him thrust for thrust. She was moaning and he was all but growling when he came. It was wrong, venting his fear like this, but she was there to take it, to accept it, to make it all seem so very, very right.

She clung to him, her heart thundering against his, their breath deep and raspy gasps.

“Brett,” she whispered, her lips hot against the slick side of his neck.

“Mmm” was all he could manage. Only when he felt her hands on his face did he finally find the strength to open his eyes again.

“That was…unbelievable. But…what was that?”

He could have bluffed. And he knew he should. At any other time in his life, with the stakes insanely high, he would have done exactly what he knew had to be done. And he’d have won.

So why, when it was the most important game of his entire life, he went with the truth, he had no idea. Because the minute the words were out, he knew he was going to lose. And that was going to cost him the only thing that might have ever really mattered.

“That was me,” he said, still panting for air, but locking his gaze absolutely intently on hers, “telling you, that I want you to get in my way. Because, right or wrong for each other, I plan to get in yours.”

K
irby hung up the phone and looked at the clock on the wall behind the check-in counter. A little after nine p.m. Hunh. She sat down on the stool and slid the registration book a little closer. She was still reeling over the changes that had taken place in…what had it been? Not quite forty-eight hours. Most of those had been spent glued to the phone, taking room reservations for the next five weeks. It was crazy really.

Apparently, when Brett Hennessey decided he wanted to do something, it got done. People jumped. Plans were made. Things happened.

And phones started ringing.

She hadn’t seen much of him during that time. Which was probably just as well. Even with the frantic burst of business, his heated declaration was still uppermost in her thoughts. And every damn time she replayed those last few minutes they’d spent together through her mind, it gave her the exact same heady little rush.

Which she hadn’t yet decided was a good thing, or a really foolish thing.

While she’d been tied to the phone the last two days, taking reservations and frantically contacting vendors to make sure she could get in the supplies needed to support her suddenly full house, Brett had been over at the resort, hammering out all the actual event details with the folks there. Which was fine, really, as she’d been rather busy herself. So busy, in fact, that she was a little afraid of what she might have gotten herself into. “Careful what you wish for, Farrell,” she murmured as she flipped through the remainder of the January log and the first half of the February log.

Almost one hundred percent capacity, starting two and a half weeks from tomorrow and lasting for three full weeks after that. In some cases, folks were even staying after the event. She’d been very specific in making sure they knew that, as of that moment, it wasn’t exactly going to be a ski paradise if they were sticking around in hopes of getting time in on the slopes. More than a few had just laughed, making some comment about the Hennessey Fortune Factor and booked an extended stay anyway. So she’d smiled and taken their credit information. And hoped they didn’t check out early when confronted with the green slopes of the Green Mountains.

The phone rang again. She glanced at the clock. “Seriously?” But she already had pen poised as she answered the phone. “Pennydash Inn, this is Kirby, how can I help you?”

She listened, registration book at the ready. A few seconds later, the pen clattered to the book, her hand still frozen in place. “I’m sorry,” she managed to choke out, “did you just say you wanted to book a room for Jackson Deverill?
The
Jackson Deverill?” Jackson had been the hottest thing in Hollywood for at least the past decade. He was George Clooney, Hugh Jackman, and Brad Pitt all rolled into one amazing package of charm and good looks.

She quickly grabbed her pen again when Jackson’s assistant made it clear that yes, she was calling for
the
Mr. Deverill. Kirby quickly regained her professional footing and finished taking the booking, which would be for two. She racked her brain trying to remember who it was he was dating these days, but with her self-imposed news blackout, she honestly couldn’t remember. Not that it mattered.
Holy crap
was all she could keep thinking. During all those years spent working for her childhood resort-slash-home, then for Patrick, she’d crossed paths with both the very rich and the very famous. It just somehow seemed completely different when they wanted to stay in her very own quaint little Vermont inn. She hung up, let her mouth drop open again, then got up and danced a little jig around her stool.

Which was how Brett found her as he walked back in the front door. “Snow dance?”

She didn’t even care that he’d caught her acting the fool. “No, that’s the ‘my inn is booked up thanks to you’ dance.”

Grinning, he walked over to the desk. “Congratulations; that’s fantastic.”

“I just got off the phone with Jackson Deverill’s personal assistant. The Jackson Deverill.”

“Oh, good, Dev called. He bought in last night and I mentioned he might like your place. He prefers to keep a more ‘out of the way, under the radar’ profile when he’s playing.”

“You know Jackson Deverill?”

Brett nodded. “We’ve played at more than a few tables together over the years, sure. He’s one of the good guys. Hard to find a lot of those in his line of work, especially at his level of celebrity.” He caught her still staring at him, gaping was probably more like it, and chuckled. “What? I’m sure working at that resort out west you came across your fair share.”

“It was a little different. Okay, a lot different. I was just overseeing their stay. I wasn’t exactly on a first-name basis with them.”

“Well, you’ll love Dev. Everybody does.” He walked around behind the desk and scooped her easily into his arms.

She didn’t even question the easy familiarity, mostly because it felt just as easily and comfortably familiar to her. She looped her arms around his neck and he hiked her up his body so she could plant a kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

“You might want to hold off until you have to manage this hoard for a few weeks,” he said, laughing, but he didn’t let her slide back down his body. Instead he pinned her back against the wall under the stairs. “Dev will probably be the easiest guy you have. Depending on who he brings with him, anyway.”

“I thought you said he was a good guy; doesn’t he have good taste in women?”

“He’s like the perennial pushover, that guy. Sort of Charlie Brown and Lucy, always believing they have his best interest at heart. Usually it’s just his bank account they have their eye on.”

“Come on, he’s got a lot more going for him than his money.”

“I agree, one hundred percent. I’m just telling you like it is.”

He lowered his head, but before he could kiss her, she said, “Is it like that for you? Is that why you were so adamant about me getting to know you for you?”

“Money always tends to complicate things,” was all he said. Then his mouth was on hers and she really didn’t care to continue the conversation as it turned out.

When he moved from her mouth to her jawline, he murmured, “I need to head up and shower. Wanna come help me wash my back?”

“I’m not sure that’s part of the room services we offer here at Pennydash Inn,” she said, tipping her head back against the wall to allow him greater access.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” He nudged her higher up the wall and kissed down the side of her neck, to the tender spot between her neck and shoulder, nuzzling the collar of her shirt aside as he continued his exploration. “I’d like to think it’s just a personal favor. Between the two of us.” He kept dropping little kisses, then undid the top button of her shirt. With his teeth. “I’m really good at returning favors, by the way. In fact, I insist upon it.”

“Do you?” she said, her eyes drifting shut as he pushed her higher and slid another button free, allowing his mouth access to the soft fabric cups of her filmy little bra. “I think that sounds fair.” Then she groaned as he suckled one nipple through the pale pink silk.

“I missed you,” he murmured against her skin as he moved to the other side.

The deep rumble of his voice, the softly spoken confession, made her heart clutch. Maybe she should have figured out that whole fun or foolish thing before she let him do this to her again. Because she most definitely was not feeling remotely casual about Brett Hennessey…and he was making it clear that the feeling was quite mutual.

“Me, too,” she said, figuring it wasn’t right to play chicken when the man was currently making her feel incredibly fabulous.

He ran the tip of his tongue over her and slid her down his body and kissed her, so passionately, so deeply, that when he scooped her up in his arms and carried her up every single step to his room, she simply put her arms around his shoulders and let him.

Instead of the shower, he laid her across his bed and followed her down, rolling them both to their sides, legs intertwined.

“I thought we were exchanging shower favors.”

“I have to get back to the resort in a few hours for another meeting, so I thought perhaps I would get you good and sweaty first so we both could use a good back scrub.”

“We’re limited to each other’s backs?”

“I see it more as a starting-off point.”

“Ah,” she said, then giggled when he tugged her under him and rolled his weight on top of her. She was happy. Deliriously so. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever feeling so lighthearted before. She’d never had this kind of spontaneous connection with anyone, and it felt pretty damn fantastic. Surely, given that they were being so open and honest about where they were in their respective lives, enjoying this—him—wasn’t foolish. She was well aware of the possible painful outcome, but the simple question of would she rather not have spent time with him at all was an easy one to answer. This time, she was putting her happiness first.

“So,” he said, returning to his devastatingly seductive exploration of her collarbone. “Who all has registered for rooms?”

He continued to work his way down, opening buttons as he went, making it rather challenging to keep track of the conversation. She listed a few names, paused to gasp as he nipped the skin below her belly button, then somehow managed to dredge up a few more. It was on the last name that Brett paused and looked up.

“Did you say Uri Maksimov?”

She blinked, realized his wonderful tongue was not going to go back to doing what it was doing along the open line of her pants zipper, and lifted her head up to look at him. “I’m pretty sure I have the name right.”

“That’s his name. When is he arriving, do you remember the date?”

“I’d have to double check to make sure, but I think he’s scheduled to arrive first.”

“Which is when, exactly?”

“Little over two weeks from now.”

Brett dipped his chin and Kirby was pretty sure she heard him swear under his breath. She pushed up on her elbows, then leaned her weight to one side so she could reach out and stroke the side of his face. She urged his gaze back to hers. “What’s up? Do you want me to call him back and tell him I made a mistake and the room is already booked? I’m pretty sure I can fill the opening. At least enough that it won’t matter.”

“No, don’t do that.”

She waited a few seconds, but when he didn’t chime in to explain his obvious distaste for the situation, she nudged. “Wanna tell me why we don’t like Uri Maksimov?”

He did glance up at her then, but his attempt at a smile fell far short of reaching his eyes. “Have I told you how much I like it that you’re on my team?”

“You do a very good job of showing it, yes,” she said, wiggling her hips a little.

He dropped his chin for just a second; then he looked back at her. “I’m sorry, I ruined the mood.”

She laughed. “I’m pretty sure if you just breathe on me, we’ll go right back to being there. Or I will.” Her expression sobered when he didn’t immediately come back with a cute remark. She stroked the side of his face and ran her fingers through the hair at his temple. “It’s really not an issue to reverse the booking. We overbooked all the time when I worked the reservation desk at the resort. I’m very good at managing the guests so they don’t feel managed.” She paused and then dryly added, “And you really don’t want to make any jokes about my guest relations skills at this particular moment.”

That got a small chuckle out of him. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“So, I take it that Mr. Maksimov isn’t exactly a welcome guy. Is he a player?”

“He works for the owner of one of the newer casinos. Kind of the liaison between the owner and the promoters. Only been open a couple of years now.”

“Did you give the rights to some part of the event to one of the casinos in Vegas?”

“Yes, but not his.”

“Ah. So, why is he coming? And how will it work, combining the resort holding the event, with a casino…what role exactly does the casino play?”

“The resort here gets the event booking and all that goes with it, including a nice increase in guests. But since we’re in Vermont, I need a team to be able to come in and actually produce the event who knows what they’re doing.”

“So, like a sponsor or something?”

“Not exactly, though we’ll have them, too. This is more like the resort here is the producer and I’m hiring the director. They’ll get billed as event promoter, working in conjunction with the charity organization and the resort here in terms of it being used, more or less, as a satellite location to their resort in Vegas.”

“Right.”

He did smile now. “Clear as mud?”

“Let’s just say I trust that you know what you’re doing.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh, no, thank you. I’ve been involved in helping, planning, and overseeing very large events, usually racing oriented, with all kinds of international vendors, where I worked before, so that element isn’t new to me, but I understood the arena. I wouldn’t have the first clue what to do with what you’re handling. Even the charitable functions we had were all skiing and snowboard related in some manner.”

“It’s probably not much different, just different vendors and sponsors, different kind of sport, but more or less the same end result.”

“I guess you’re right. So what’s the deal with Maksimov? Why would he come out if he’s not part of the deal?”

“I’m sure he’ll have some pretense, but now that I’ve raised my head, no doubt he’s coming out to try and schmooze me into doing one of his upcoming events.”

“Do different hotels hold different poker events?”

“No, it’s usually one resort that gets the license to host the big events. But other hotels definitely have exhibition events, usually tied to a charity or bigger event of some sort, and bring us all in. It’s good exposure and the pros usually kick in. It’s good philanthropy, too, and the celebs usually come out as well. For the promoters, it’s good to get as many headliners locked in as early as possible. Ostensibly it’s for charity or some such, but if regular folks think they’re going to be rubbing elbows with celebrities while playing the five-dollar slots, then they tend to book into whatever hotel is holding the next upcoming widely advertised event.”