A Very Important Guest (2 page)

“You’re here for that judicial conference?” As soon as she said it, she felt uncomfortable—like she shouldn’t know that much about him. 

“I am.” He arched a brow. “You know of it?”

“A little.” She thought a joke might get her out of the awkwardness. “It’s not like we get the agendas.”

He smiled. “What do you get?”

“Um … Not much. Just when guests are checking out and if there’s a V.I.P. on the floor.”

“See?” He pointed a finger at her. “I told you no one knows who I am. The hotel doesn’t think I’m a V.I.P.”

Abby hated being outwitted, so she kidded him in a playful tone. “Now, now. This hotel’s slogan is ‘everyone is a very important guest.’ ”

“Good save,” he said with a laugh. “You
should
go into politics.”

“But, I shouldn’t have left myself open like that.”

“It happens. The question is whether or not you can recover from it.” He nodded like he was giving his approval. “You’re quick.”

“Thanks.” Altogether unsettled by the compliment, she gave him a shy smile. “I should be quicker, though. I need to finish my rounds.”

His voice was faint, but her ears perked up when she heard him mutter, “Too bad.” He sighed. “I should also get a move on.”

“Have a nice time. Good night.”

“You, too.”

As she started for the door, it nagged on her that a friendly conversation had ended on such a flat note. She stopped and pointed at the desk. “Don’t forget your chocolates in case you miss dinner.”

He grinned as if he appreciated her attempt at a joke. “Don’t worry. I won’t.”

“Good.” Her response hung in the air as their eyes met. His stare was so unnerving that she headed for her housekeeping cart as a refuge from the uneasiness. But when she was almost safely out the door, he called out, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

Her eyes widened. While touching the cart to find some solid ground, she glanced back at him standing by the desk and still wearing a grin. She shyly returned it, and remembering her early shift the next day, said, “Maybe.”

* * *

The following morning, Abby closed her eyes in relief when there was no answer to her knock at room 828. When she entered the empty room, she whispered, “Thank God,” and got to work. She needed to clean as quickly as possible to avoid another awkward encounter with the congressman.

Multiple times over the night, she’d replayed her last conversation with him, and with each parsing of their words, she concluded he must’ve thought she was coming on to him. That made her cringe. She never flirted with men, and certainly not half-clad V.I.P. guests in their beds.

With her earphones in place, she attacked his room. On the bed sat the hotel’s card asking guests to reuse their linens. She smiled in appreciation at the time she was going to save.
Hurriedly tidying the room, she made good time, and as each minute passed and task completed, she became more certain she would avoid him that morning.

When she felt a tap on her shoulder as she scoured the tub, she jumped at the interruption. She pulled a single earphone out of her ear and turned to see him standing above her.

“Morning,” he said with a smile. His arms were crossed like he was proud he’d caught her. “Please, stop. You don’t need to do that.”

“Actually, I do.” She felt herself again succumbing to his charm. “It’s my job.”

“I suppose so, but you don’t have to do it for me.”

“I’m almost done. It’s okay.” She nodded toward the bedroom. “I still need to vacuum, though. It’ll be noisy. You may want to leave and come back later.”

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I have some time. I’ll sit on the balcony again.”

“I’ll hurry.” She turned around and began rinsing out the tub, hoping he’d left the bathroom. When she finished and he was gone, she felt some relief and started on the toilet.

In a matter of seconds, he returned with his hands placed on either side of the doorway as if he might lunge at her. “Now
that
you can’t do. I won’t let you clean my toilet,” he said sternly.

She snickered. “It’s actually the hotel’s toilet, and it’s something I must do.”

“Then if it has to be cleaned, I’ll do it myself.”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No, I’m not.” He stepped into the bathroom and extended his hand in a request for the toilet brush.

“Come on. I do this fifty times a day.”

“I don’t care.” His mouth was set with determination.

“You’re really serious?”

“I am.”

She looked askance at him, not understanding what he was up to, but despite her wariness, she handed him the scrubber. “If you insist. I’ll go vacuum.”

In only a few minutes, she’d expertly vacuumed the carpet, leaving a fresh smell and a perfect pattern in her wake. When she realized he hadn’t come out of the bathroom, she smirked, thinking he had no idea what he was doing. She was surprised to find him standing at the sink while fiercely cleaning the rim of the faucet. At that angle, she had a great view of him—tall with sandy hair, a dashing profile, and impossibly long eyelashes.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just finishing up,” he answered without looking at her.

She leaned against the doorjamb and crossed her arms in amusement. “You’re doing a good job. I’m surprised.”

“Why?” He chuckled.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to know how to clean.”

“Someone like
me
?” he asked with his eyebrows raised.

“Yes. Someone like you.” She raised her hand as if it was self-evident. “You’re a congressman. You have these things done for you, right?”

“Sometimes, but my dad is a steelworker. My mom is a high school teacher. I know something about work.”

“Oh.” She anxiously touched her mother’s necklace, feeling like a fool. How was she supposed to answer that? She couldn’t say what she really wanted to, which was
“Then why were you such an ass to me yesterday when I was on my hands and knees cleaning when you walked in?”
But she kept that thought to herself and instead said, “You’ve done a great job. I think the room is done.”

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“What?”

“You don’t believe that I know what it means to work.”

“Well … I wouldn’t say that,” she said as her anxiety increased.

“Then what?”

While she’d never spoken so plainly with a guest in the hotel, he still was a guest. She hated the thought of criticizing a customer, especially a member of Congress who could probably get her fired. She waived her hand to end the conversation. “It doesn’t matter. I need to get to my next room.”

His expression soured, but his dark brown eyes looked sincere. “It’s about yesterday, right? I was rude to you when we met, wasn’t I?”

"No. It was fine. I’m used to it.” She wanted to kick herself for adding the last part. She hadn’t meant to confirm he was rude.

“I knew it. I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I was cranky after the long flight, and I’d worked the whole time. It doesn’t excuse my behavior. I forgot you weren’t my staff.”

“Your staff?”

“I know. I also don’t treat my staff as well as I should.” He grimaced. “I get busy and …”

He shifted awkwardly, as if he was ashamed. Had she pushed him too far? She felt guilty and dismissed the situation. “Whatever. I’m sure they understand, and as for me, it’s not a problem.”

He was quiet for a moment, and Abby felt like he was appraising her as he stared. A smile soon formed on his face. “How about you let me take you out to dinner to make it up to you?”

“Dinner?” Her voice was riddled with disbelief.

“Yes, dinner.”

The word “dinner” rang through her brain as she debated what it might mean. It could be seen as a date, or it could just be a friendly meal. She hadn’t been on a date for at least two years, and she’d never gone out with a complete stranger. “But … but we don’t even know each other’s names.”

“Sure we do.”

“We do?”

He pointed to her chest. “Your name is Abigail, and you must know my name.”

“William Lloyd?” She cautiously grinned.

“My friends call me Will,” he said, extending his hand.

“Hi, Will.” She shook his hand, which made hers feel small. “I’m Abby Flaherty.”

“Abby,” he said as if he was mulling it over. “I like that name. So, will you go to dinner with me now?”

“Sure,” she said, telling herself it wasn’t a date.

“Great. Let me get the concierge to make reservations. When are you available? And can I pick you up?”

Picking her up was out of the question. That was definitely date behavior. Thinking of her afternoon trip to the nursing facility plus her commute, she said, “How about eight? Just tell me where to meet you.”

“Meet me? Well, we could meet here in the lobby, or better yet, I could come pick you up.”

Neither suggestion was palatable to her. While there weren’t rules against fraternizing with guests, it was frowned upon, and she didn’t want to be thought of that way. She shook her head. “No, I don’t think it’s a good idea to meet here, and I live in
Kailua
. It’s a bit of drive. I should just meet you at the restaurant.”

“Okay. If you insist.” He raised his eyebrows and smirked. “I need your number then.”

“Let me get a pen.”

Reaching for his back pocket, he said, “Just tell me. I’ll call you and then you’ll have my number, too.”

“All right,” she said, pulling her phone from her apron’s pocket. She wanted to giggle at the thought of having a congressman in her short list of contacts.

After she told him her number and answered his subsequent call, they both smiled. She wanted to avoid an awkward silence. “I should move on to the next room.”

“And I should move on to my next panel.”

“Is the conference interesting?”

“Some of it
.
” He nodded toward the door. “I’d rather be at the beach.”

“Don’t you get some time off?”

“A little.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to offer him a tour of the island, but she panicked and reined herself back in.
What are you thinking?
“That’s good,” she mumbled. With a glance at her watch, she said, “Now I really need to get back to work.”

“I’ll call you,” he said as if he was looking forward to it.

She opened up her hand and gestured toward the rag in his. “Can I have that back?”

“Here you go. But you’re not cleaning my bathroom again.”

As she took the rag from him, she rolled her eyes and smiled. “We’ll see about that.” She turned to get her vacuum, but temptation got to her. She looked again into the bathroom. “Oh, and if the Congress thing doesn’t work out, I can put in a good word for you at the hotel. You do a good job.”

He laughed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

Later that evening, Abby was happy to find street parking reasonably close to her destination, the swanky Nai Restaurant. As she walked toward the front door, she readjusted the purse on her shoulder. She wasn’t used to the small bag, which she only wore with her special dresses. Trying to dispel the nervousness welling inside of her, she patted her hair which fell down to her bare shoulders.

She kept telling herself she was just meeting an interesting acquaintance for dinner, and there were no strings attached, yet the quivers of her heart continued. It was a combination of the forgotten excitement of a first date, and the fear of going out with a guy who was a little older and very accomplished. She’d done some online research about Will, who turned out to be a thirty-one-year-old, rising political star. That was a far different biography from her last boyfriend, a starving artist.

When she entered the restaurant, she immediately saw Will with his head down, immersed in whatever was on his phone. He wore a starched Hawaiian shirt, khakis, and loafers without socks. For
Hawaii
, he was very well-dressed. As she walked toward him, he glanced up from his phone, and a wide smile spread across his face. She gave him a more demure one.

Without another look at his phone, he dropped it in his back pocket as he met her halfway. He held his hand out and said, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You look gorgeous. I mean, you’re very pretty, but right now…”

“Thanks.” Unnerved that the first thing he said to her was a very date-like compliment, she touched the strap of her sundress in search of an excuse. “It’s the dress. I’m not wearing my uniform.”

He side-eyed her. “It’s not just the dress.”

The hostess arrived and interrupted their conversation. When they were seated at their table and alone again, he looked up from the menu and studied her instead. “I feel like I’m meeting a whole other side of Abby.”