Penthouse Suite (2 page)

Max opened the door and strode back to the bathroom, prepared to give a thorough tongue-lashing to the woman who’d done more to unsettle his psyche than anybody he’d ever met.

This time it was Max Sorrenson who swallowed hard and came to a screeching halt. The woman
had unzipped the coveralls and was leaning over, drying her dark hair. The garment hung open, revealing the soft curve of her breasts. The uniform was pulled tight across her bottom, and he could see that she wasn’t as thin as he’d first thought. Secretly leering at an employee was totally out of character for him. He’d never paid much attention to them one way or another—until now.

At that moment she straightened up, wiped the water from her face, and caught sight of Max behind her. He heard her sharp intake of breath, and for a moment she froze.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought I’d dry myself off so that I wouldn’t drip on your carpet.”

She was taller than he’d thought too. Her hair was a rich dark brown, all tousled into a fine silken web. There was a streak of grease across one flushed cheek, and her lips parted uncertainly as she raised her gaze to meet his. “I am sorry.”

“What for? I think that’s a good idea.” What was he saying? She had him muttering inane niceties when what he wanted to do was jerk her against him and kiss her senseless. He was even more astounded by the words he spoke next. “Why don’t you borrow one of my robes and let me drop that uniform in the dryer?”

Take off her clothes? “Eh, no, thanks. I don’t think so. I’ll just jump on the elevator and get back to the maintenance department. I’ll get dry clothes down there.” What was she thinking? The man was only protecting the image of his hotel. He wasn’t propositioning her. She was simply overreacting. Wasn’t she?

Max watched her expression change. He’d never
seen such an expressive face. Sensing her tension, Max decided that the possibility of being fired was worrying her. He’d put her at ease by letting her know that he was simply being practical.

“And let the guests see one of my staff members looking like a refugee from the chain gang? Just wait in there, and I’ll have someone bring up a dry uniform for you.” That was being practical, wasn’t it? he asked himself. Hell no, that was being brusque, the way he always reacted when he was threatened or unsure of himself.

Max stepped to the phone and punched a number. “Send one of the maids up here with a fresh pair of coveralls for the woman who’s filling in for Joe.”

Kate, glad to have his attention diverted from her, gathered up her tools, replaced them in the tool chest, and mopped the last of the water from the floor with the towel she’d used on her hair.

“Mr. Sorrenson, I want you to know that I don’t normally make such a mess. I knew that a job in a place like this would be a grand adventure, but I never expected to sabotage my employer’s home.”

“Working as a plumber is a grand adventure?”

Her voice wasn’t Dixie-soft and gentle like the women’s voices he was accustomed to hearing. Rather, she had a funny hesitant, disjointed way of speaking, like an excited little girl at an amusement park. Curiosity, tension, wonder, excitement, one emotion followed the other across her face like the credits rolling at the end of a movie. “I don’t believe that I ever knew anyone who thought plumbing was an adventure.”

“I really didn’t plan any of this. I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the poodle and the lady in the wheelchair. Of course, it was really my car
that caused the problem. It died in your driveway. Then she offered to have it repaired. Of course, I couldn’t let her do that. Saving her life wasn’t that big a deal. So I agreed to take Joe’s place for two weeks while I get it running again. That’s a fair exchange, don’t you think?”

Lady in a wheelchair? This was beginning to make sense. At least the wild story he was hearing and its connection with the lady in the wheelchair was no surprise. He’d spent most of his life trying to make sense out of incidents that were more unbelievable. The lady in the wheelchair had to be his Aunt Dorothea, the woman who’d raised him. After almost thirty-six years, both of them had given up on ever understanding what made the other one tick.

“Ms.… what did you say your name was again?”

“Kate, Kate Weston.”

“Miss Weston, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. But now that I know your presence here involves Dorothea Jarrett, it begins to make more sense. Before I do something rash, I think I’d better hear this story.”

“Mrs. Jarrett. Yes, that’s her name—the woman in the wheelchair. Do you know her?”

The doorbell pealed.

“Just hold on a minute. This ought to be your dry clothes.” Max went to the door, opened it, and took the dry coveralls, closing the door firmly in the face of the young hotel employee.

Max looked down at the oversized garment he was holding and shook his head. “Don’t we have any uniforms in a smaller size?” He handed the clothing to Kate and turned his back. “Get dressed, and then we’ll talk.”

Max smiled as he realized that from where he
was standing he could see the woman changing clothes behind him in his mirrored dressing room door. He couldn’t resist taking a peek. He was right. Her legs were long. And she was thin, but not too thin. Her breasts were … just perfect.

A gentleman wouldn’t have watched, he thought as he turned his head. But then a lady wouldn’t have watched him earlier. As Dorothea always said, turnabout is fair play. But all he could think of was that it was a good thing he wasn’t holding a wrench, or the entire suite would have been ankle-deep in water.

“Now, Kate. Start at the beginning.”

They were sitting at the glass and chrome table in the kitchen. Max was drinking mineral water, and Kate was sipping from a can of cola.

“Are you sure this is all right? I mean, I should get back downstairs, shouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have your pager?”

“Yes, sir. It’s on my cart.”

Sir?
Now that she wasn’t being threatened, his wild woman with the wrench had suddenly become the uncertain employee. “They know where you are. They’ll page you if you’re needed. I’m waiting to hear how you came to take Joe’s place.”

“Well, here goes. I guess it started when I got my last paycheck. I mean, it wasn’t my boss’s fault. He was a nice old man who owned a television repair business. He couldn’t pay me much, but he let me live in the shop. Business wasn’t very good. Then he lost his lease, and my last check bounced. He needed the money more than I did. Otherwise I would have installed a new water pump in my car before I left. I’d already been in
Atlanta for three months, and Florida was next on my list. I just took a chance.”

“Do you always take chances?”

Her hair was dry now. It curled softly across her shoulders. Her square-shaped face, bare of any makeup, seemed determined and proud. There was a tiny scar over her upper lip, and he wondered how she’d gotten it. There was something free and natural about the woman that Max couldn’t quite pin down.

“Take chances? Me? Sure, all the time. Don’t you?”

“No. Well, I suppose I do to some extent when I’m playing the market. But even then I never make a move unless I’ve studied all the possibilities carefully.”

“Market? As in stocks?” In her mind, the man across the table changed into the stern, manipulative, cold stockbroker Michael Douglas played in
Wall Street
. And then Max smiled. “Is that how you made all your money?” she asked.

“No. I inherited a fishing fleet. And I’ve managed to make a few wise investments.”

“Must be nice. I’ve never worked for anybody who was rich. Well, except for Lolly Daye, the owner of Lolly’s Amusement Park in Tennessee, but I never actually met her.”

“Were you a plumber there?”

“No. I was a painter. I worked on the carousel. The animals were magical. There was one special one, a unicorn. He was all white and gold. I could sit on his back, close my eyes, and imagine I was anywhere.”

Carousel. Max had a flashing memory of the first time he’d ever seen the carousel on the Carnival Strip. He’d been just a child. The animals
had seemed gigantic to him on the first ride, and he’d held on to his horse’s reins for dear life. Dorothea had been on the giraffe next to him, pretending to be a cowgirl and yahooing at the top of her lungs. He hadn’t thought of that carousel in years.

“What brought you to my hotel?”

“Oh, I never intended to stay here permanently. I knew this place was too rich for my blood. But La Casa del Sol, a place in the sun—I couldn’t resist staying one night. Then came the poodle and the wheelchair, and my car died. It was fate.”

Max took a swallow of mineral water and wondered what he was doing sharing his kitchen with a woman who lived in a TV repair shop, painted carousels, and repaired her own car. He’d never met a woman who moved from place to place.

“I never knew women moved around like that, unless they were circus employees or migrant workers. I thought all women wanted to settle down. You know, roots, that sort of thing.”

“Not me. Not yet. Maybe someday, after I’ve been everywhere and done everything. For now, my plan is to do something different every day for the rest of my life. Roots? That’s just another name for chains. And that’s one thing I’m not interested in. After three months in one place, I’m out. What about you? What do you do for fun?”

“Me? I don’t know. I don’t suppose I ever thought much about it before. I’ve always had goals and worked to reach them. That gives me great pleasure.”

“You mean making money?”

“Yes, I guess it does boil down to that. Goals, problems, solutions, success. Fun never entered into it.”

“Sounds dull to me. How old are you, Max?”

“I’ll be thirty-six on my next birthday. How old are you, Kate?”

“I’ll be twenty-six on my next birthday. At first I thought you were older. More like Cesar than Lorenzo.”

Max wasn’t certain he liked being thought of as old. “Cesar and Lorenzo? Who are they?” he asked curiously. The woman kept him constantly off balance.

“They star in a Friday night television series called
Falcon Crest
. Cesar Romero is the suave older wealthy lover. Lorenzo Lamas is the young rich stud.”

“I take it you’re making a comparison to my wealth rather than to my sexual prowess.”

Max tilted his head quizzically and gave Kate a smile that made her feel all warm and tingly.

“Well, sure, of course,” she mumbled. “You’re rich, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so. I don’t think much about it.”

“You don’t watch much television, do you?”

“Not much. And you don’t impress me as the type to watch television, either. That seems rather a tame pastime for a liberated lady plumber.”

“I watched television with my mother, six years of television. I haven’t always been a liberated traveling lady.”

“Oh, what liberated you?”

“My mother died.”

An uncomfortable silence followed Kate’s statement. Max felt his throat tighten. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, and touched her hand. “My mother died, too, when I was very small.”

“I was twenty-four. That’s when I hit the road,” Kate said, allowing herself to enjoy the unexpected comfort of his touch for a moment before she
pulled her hand away. “I guess I’d better go. I’m sorry about the mess. But I really do know what I’m doing, and I’ll get the water temperature problem fixed as soon as I get a new shower head.”

She stood up and started toward the door, stopping to retrieve the maintenance cart.

“Wait,” Max said sharply. “I still don’t know about Dorothea Jarrett, the lady in the wheelchair.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, there was this poodle. He ran out of the hotel and caught his leash in Dorothea’s wheelchair and pulled her toward your pool. She was about to take a swim with her clothes on when I stopped her chair. I couldn’t take money as a reward, but she was pretty insistent. Then I found out that my car had committed suicide in your driveway. I know this must sound pretty wild to you.”

“No, no it doesn’t. I’ve had some experience with this manipulating lady. Dorothea has never been known to do anything the ordinary way if she could make it more exciting.”

“Well, she convinced the manager to hire me. I’d probably never have taken the job if it hadn’t been for my car. But they told me that Joe was going to be gone for two weeks and that he was your live-in maintenance man. Hey! It was fate. I fill in for Joe, get my two weeks’ pay, and live in La Casa del Sol.” Kate pressed the elevator button, watched the door slide silently open, and stepped inside.

“Even Kate Hepburn couldn’t ask for more than that. Good night, Mr. Sorrenson. By the way, if you’re going out, you’d better change your shoes.”

“Why?”

The elevator door closed.

Good night? Max looked down at his watch.
Eight-thirty. Good Lord. Almost as hour earlier he’d been due to pick up Danni Manderson for dinner. Instead he’d mopped a bathroom floor, cleaned the mirrored wall, and sat at his kitchen table talking to his hotel maintenance man … eh, woman. He’d completely forgotten about Danni.

But he did remember that sometime during the disaster they’d just weathered, he’d considered firing Kate. Instead he’d held her hand and comforted her.

Max looked at himself in the mirrored wall of the entranceway. He was grinning like some silly yokel. Mirrors. They really were wonderful things. Walking into his study, he located his calendar and jotted down a reminder to his secretary to write to his decorator and thank her for the mirrors. He wasn’t certain that he’d taken proper notice of them before.

He tried to call Danni, but she didn’t answer. Feeling guilty but not knowing what else to do, Max decided to visit with Dorothea. The story of the poodle and the rescue was too intriguing for him to overlook. He went into his closet and chose a jacket. What was it Kate had said about his shoes? He looked at his feet and burst out laughing.

Max Sorrenson, who never left his apartment without coordinating his clothes, was wearing one brown loafer and one black one. He grinned, shrugged his shoulders, and exchanged both shoes for a pair of sneakers that he rarely wore. He started out the door, returned to his desk, and added a postscript to the note to his secretary.