Penthouse Suite (3 page)

“
Order Alpo for the poodle, who wasn’t supposed to be in the hotel anyway, and … smaller coveralls for Kate.
”

He studied his note for a moment and scribbled again.

“
Have a television set installed in the bedroom.
”

Almost at the elevator, he paused once more, turned, and made one final note.

“
Invite Kate for dinner on Friday night.
”

The insistent ringing of the phone awakened Kate. She sat up abruptly.

For a moment, she had forgotten where she was. She reached for the phone and put it to her ear.

“Kate, is it? This is Ricardo, the night manager. Sorry you have to start your second day on the job at five-thirty in the morning, but we have a little problem in nine-oh-four with one of our resident guests, Mrs. Jarrett. I’ll meet you at the elevator.”

Kate splashed cold water on her face, trying to force herself awake enough to tackle a problem. She quickly pulled on a fresh pair of Joe’s coveralls and ran a comb through her hair. Heading down the sidewalk that led from the housekeeping wing to the lobby, she shivered in the gray dawn air.

“Good. That was quick,” the slim, dark-skinned
man waiting by the door said in approval. “Normally Mrs. Jarrett has a companion with her, but Lucy left several days ago and isn’t back yet. Mrs. Jarrett asked for you.”

Kate yawned and followed Ricardo to the elevator. Mrs. Jarrett again. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know, but it sounded urgent. If you don’t already know it, Mrs. Jarrett is one of our most important resident guests. She keeps things lively.”

“I figured that out yesterday when she browbeat your day manager into giving me this job. Why is she in a wheelchair?” Kate asked, as much to let him know that she wasn’t sleepwalking as for information.

“Arthritis, I think. She can walk with difficulty, but she uses her wheelchair most of the time. Don’t let her helpless appearance fool you. She’s about as innocent as a killer bee. I just hope that the problem is something we can solve.”

“If it’s maintenance work, I think I can handle the job,” Kate replied. “I’ve had training in mechanics, carpentry, and plumbing. Anything else I can probably fake.”

“Not necessary. We always keep three maintenance men on duty in the daytime. Anything you can’t do, somebody else can. Mr. Sorrenson insists that everybody work together around here. We have a good team.”

“I met Mr. Sorrenson last night. He’s quite young to be so successful, isn’t he? What kind of man is he?” Besides being strong, silent, sensual, and knee-knocking sexy? she added silently.

“He’s pretty much a recluse. Doesn’t mix much with outsiders. Just lives up there and plays with his computers, his fishing boats, and his real
estate. I think he’d rather deal with spread sheets than people. He’s a fair man, but he doesn’t get involved. He expects us to do our jobs, and we do.”

“Really?” That didn’t sound much like the man she’d talked with at his kitchen table.

They reached the ninth floor, room 904. Ricardo knocked and directed his voice into a speaker panel beside the door. “It’s Ricardo, ma’am,
and
Kate.”

“Let Kate in. You go away.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Ricardo unlocked the door and gave Kate a shrug of his shoulders. It was clear that he was glad to be dismissed. “If you need help, I’ll be at the desk.”

Every light in the suite was burning when Kate entered. She blinked her eyes in protest and closed the door behind her. There was no sign of Dorothea.

“Mrs. Jarrett? Where are you?”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Well, come in here. I’m in the bathroom, and I can’t get this bony old body out of this damn slippery lily pond they call a hot tub.”

Kate followed the voice into a bedroom-sized bath that must have been designed for some movie star out of the nineteen-forties.

Black marble tiles covered the floor and ran over the side of a lotus-shaped pool, which was filled with rose-perfumed bubbles. In the midst of the bubbles was the pink-faced cherubic woman with her arms crossed in regal disdain.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem? Criminey, woman, use what sense the Lord gave you. Whoever created this swimming pool failed to take into consideration that
there are those of us who need sides, normal sides. I told them I didn’t want a hot tub in here anyway. Well? Don’t just stand there, come and get me out.”

“Come into the tub?”

“Unless you have the power to levitate.”

Kate tried to keep a straight face as she considered Day Two of her grand adventure in the hotel of the rich and famous. Only a few hours earlier she’d practically drowned herself in the penthouse. Now she was about to be knee-deep in bubble bath. This was some party she’d been invited to.

Kate slipped out of her shoes, got a firm grip on her sense of humor, and stepped into the tub. She reached down to lift the slender frame of a very nude and very slippery Mrs. Dorothea Jarrett. Between the bubble bath and the downward slant of the hot tub, the chore was proving to be more difficult than she’d anticipated. She couldn’t get leverage on the helpless old woman.

“How did you plan to get out?”

“I never plan. Of course, I’ve never used any of this bubble bath before, either. How was I to know it would make the sides slippery? If I hadn’t brought my portable phone along, I’d probably be a prune by the time anybody found me.”

Just as Kate thought she was making progress, her foot hit a cake of soap, and down she went, skidding into a startled Mrs. Jarrett. Water sloshed over the sides. Mrs. Jarrett was hit by a tidal wave of foam, and Kate went under like the
Titanic
.

Kate came up sputtering. As the absurdity of the scene flashed through her mind, she began to laugh. Mascara ran down Dorothea’s face in wavy black lines. The older woman lifted eyelids heavy with false eyelashes and glared for a moment at
Kate before a choked-back giggle emerged like a giant hiccup.

“If this isn’t a fine kettle of fish,” Mrs. Jarrett said with a chuckle.

“Let me try sitting on the edge of the tub,” Kate said. “I’ll pull you up the side.”

It worked. At least, Kate got her up the edge. Though Mrs. Jarrett was fairly light, it took lots of effort on Kate’s part to get the woman into a chair.

“If you’ll just hand me a towel and my robe, I’ll manage. You did that rather well, considering how small you are, Kate,” Mrs. Jarrett complimented her.

“I’ve had some experience in lifting people. My mother was an invalid for almost six years, and she had to be moved around.”

“Was?”

Dorothea’s question was a normal one, Kate thought, and her answer came easily for the first time. “She died two years ago.”

“I’m sorry, Kate. What brought you to Florida?” Dorothea wrapped herself in the towel and began drying her face.

“Well, you remember those television commercials the temporary employment services used to run about working your way across the country? I decided if a typist could do it, so could I—three months at a time.”

“Why just three months?”

“I don’t want to get tied down. After twenty-four years of being in one place, I made up my mind that I would fill my life with grand adventures. By setting a time limit, I don’t—won’t—stay too long.”

“But don’t you get lonely?”

“Lonely is when you don’t have friends. I have
friends everywhere. Each new job is a challenge, and I love it. Of course, my life isn’t without its little problems—take my car for example. But I don’t mind. You have to expect a little sour with the sweet.”

“If life sends you lemons, you make lemonade. I like that philosophy. How do you like the Carnival Strip so far?”

“So far I’ve found it a bit wet, but once I learn my way around, I’m sure that I’m going to enjoy it.”

Kate slid her hands down the legs of her coveralls, squeezing the water over the tub. She reached for a towel to blot her face as she slipped her feet back into her loafers.

“I like you, Kate Weston. I truly do. And I think I have the perfect idea.”

“I’m afraid to ask.” Kate gave her hair one more vigorous rub as she waited to hear Mrs. Jarrett’s newest plan.

“I’m going to have the hotel manager let me borrow you for this evening. I like a person who uses lemons to make lemonade.” Dorothea slapped her thigh in glee. “Yes sir-ree! I’m going to help you learn your way around. We’ll have some fun. Oh, dear, you did get rather wet, didn’t you?”

Kate used the wet towels to soak up the water that had spilled over the tub edge and then threw them into the hamper. “Yes, rather.” Kate laughed. “But that seems to go with the job. We’re both a mess. What else can I do to help you?”

“You can start by pushing me to my bed. I need to get some sleep. Don’t know why I stay up so late,” she said as she removed the pink shower cap and fluffed her silver hair.

Kate steadied the chair as Dorothea stood, grimaced,
and swung around to lie back on her bed, still wrapped in the huge towel. “Go along with you now. I’m going straight to sleep. Just be back at eight o’clock tonight and wear a party dress. We’re going to have dinner with my nephew.”

“Mrs. Jarrett, I am the in-house maintenance department, and as far as I know, I’ll be on duty tonight. Besides, the closest thing I own to a dinner dress is a purple satin nightgown my cousin sent me from Texas. Why on earth would you want me to have dinner with your nephew?”

“Because he needs to learn his way around too. My nephew is a stick-in-the-mud. He’s very shy, never gets out. He has no fun friends. I’m dreadfully worried about him. About the only person he ever sees is me.”

“Mrs. Jarrett, it would be very wrong for you to try and arrange something between me and your nephew. I’m only going to be at the hotel for two weeks, and I’m not interested in meeting a man.”

“Nonsense! The hotel staff always humors me. I just pull my helpless old woman routine, and they do what I want. And I need you. Getting about without my companion isn’t really safe at my age. You saw what happened yesterday.”

The woman was a master, playing on Kate’s guilt when she didn’t appear ready to agree. Kate wondered what she’d let herself in for, then chastised herself for thinking unkind thoughts about this grandmotherly widow who had the entire hotel staff under her thumb.

“Good, it’s settled. Eight o’clock tonight, Kate. You won’t be sorry, I promise.”

Kate wasn’t certain that she’d actually agreed to go to dinner, but until she could figure out a way to outmaneuver Mrs. Jarrett, she appeared to be
stuck. She locked Mrs. Jarrett’s door, then punched the elevator button.

Kate realized what a sorry sight she was—her coveralls soaking wet, her hair splattered with soap bubbles. Remembering Mr. Sorrenson’s request the previous night that she not be seen by the hotel guests, she hoped that it was early enough so that no one was around. If the hotel had had a service elevator, she wouldn’t have had any problem, she thought as the elevator doors opened. Stepping inside, she felt an uncomfortable trickle of water run down her leg and into her shoe. Her eyes, focused on the water circling on the carpet, caught sight of a pair of familiar bare feet and legs.

The air left her lungs in a whoosh as she raised her gaze. Max Sorrenson wasn’t totally nude this time, but he might as well have been. The swimsuit he was wearing was smaller than his frown.

Max Sorrenson had decided that physical exercise was the way to deal with the inexplicable frustration that kept him awake.

Dorothea had been out all evening. He couldn’t seem to settle down to any serious work. By the time he’d decided to take a swim, it was early morning.

Becoming involved with an employee was something he’d never allowed himself to do. Certainly he’d never lost sight of time, missed an appointment, or put on two different shoes. In fact, Max had been careful to keep his distance from anything more than a casual relationship with a woman. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women. He did—very much. Or at least he enjoyed them for a
time. Then, invariably, they became too possessive, and the time came for him to move on.

What had happened with this new employee had caught him by surprise. Until he was able to resolve the situation in his mind, he’d be unable to concentrate on anything else.

He’d spent an hour sitting at his kitchen table talking to a woman who knew more about plumbing than he did and who repaired her own automobile as well. He’d be rational about this, impersonal. She was an employee, he wouldn’t call her by name. Using her name made her real. And yet he couldn’t forget how she’d stood up to him. How alive she’d been. How alive she’d made him feel.

Even as he told himself that he’d be impersonal, her face drifted back into focus. She’d had freckles on her cheeks, they were faint but they’d been there. She didn’t need makeup to cover her flaws. There were none. Kate Weston was beautiful. And he knew that he wanted to see her again. The hotel was small. She’d be around somewhere. Maybe she’d come back with the new shower head. Maybe he’d call her to pick up Joe’s cap, which she’d left behind.

Resigned to the fact that he wouldn’t accomplish any more work, he’d finally decided that a swim might clear his mind of Kate Weston.

Resolutely pushing aside the disturbing thoughts that had plagued him for most of the night, Max pulled on a swimsuit, draped a towel around his neck, and stepped barefoot into the elevator.

The machine moved down only one floor. The door opened, and Kate Weston, the source of his consternation, stepped inside, soaking wet and dripping all over the plush carpeting.

He hadn’t been prepared. His overloaded senses went into red alert, and he overreacted. What he wanted to do was kiss her. What he did was go into some marine drill sergeant’s routine to cover his confusion. “That does it! Starting today,” his voice vibrated across the small enclosure, “I’m having the plumbing in this entire hotel inspected.”

Kate blanched. Max Sorrenson, the one person she didn’t want to see, was standing there scowling. She felt her stomach do a backward somersault. Wearing nothing but a swimsuit, he looked like a candidate for a
Playgirl
centerfold. The suit was little more than a small triangle of black satin with a snip of rope to hold it on. It left nothing to the imagination. Didn’t the man believe in clothes?