Sweet Home Alaska (4 page)

He noted the crinkle of a smile in her eyes and wondered if she was in cahoots with Lauren. She turned to leave.

“Thank you,” Trey said.

Kayla stopped her retreat and turned around. “You’re welcome. Oh, and Cheryl Marshall called while you were out to lunch. Would you like me to call her back for you?”

He’d forgotten about the voicemail he’d left for Cheryl. His extra-cold shower last night had been designed to purge Lauren from his mind. There was something about her that spoke to his baser needs. Now he’d be temporarily working with her. He’d intended to let her down easy, say he’d hired someone else, but the minute she walked into his office, all those plans vanished. But he refused to fall back into the same infatuated state he’d once been in. High school was so long ago—in fact, his ten-year reunion would be here before he knew it. Lauren didn’t remember much about him, he was sure of it, except for maybe the lunchroom incident. They hadn’t even traveled in the same social circles. He had to quit thinking about Lauren. Maybe a date with Cheryl would do the trick.

Trey spun around in his leather chair and surveyed the winding Kenai River. He never thought Lauren would return. She’d fit in fine with the lower forty-eight states, or so he’d thought.

Now she was back.

His intercom buzzed. “Yes, Kayla?”

“Ms. Marshall is on line two and. . . just one moment.” The line went quiet. The intercom clicked. “And Ms. Kinkade is on line one. Which call would you like me to patch through?”

Trey could resist Lauren, but did he want to? Lauren was only business, he reminded himself. Only business. “Patch Miss Kinkade through and let Cheryl know I’ll call her back as soon as I’m able.”

He pressed the button on line one. He sucked in a breath, and said, “Hello?”

“Trey, its Lauren.” Her voice sounded breathy, sexy, memorable, and he wanted nothing more than to hang up.

“What can I do for you?” But he would never hang up on her. He held the phone closer to his ear, wishing for a whiff of her lilac scent.

“I just wanted to say thank you for hiring me. I promise you won’t regret it. I left yesterday without asking about a convenient time to get together to discuss the menus in more detail. Also, I’ll need to get the approximate number of guests, as well as visit the property. Is there a time we could get together to talk?”

“Sure, when would be good for you?” Whatever time worked for her, he knew he would agree. The woman held some kind of charged magnet, and he was the sucker who couldn’t resist the pull.

“If we could meet at the hotel, that would be best. I’d like to see the kitchen facilities for myself, and with the event only weeks away, the sooner the better.”

He wanted to see her again right now, but he’d wait at least twenty-four hours, and in the meantime, take a few more cold showers. “I’ll have Kayla check my calendar, but I believe I’m free tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow would be perfect. I look forward to it. Say six o’clock at the hotel?” Her sultry voice sang through the phone like an erotic lullaby.

Either that, or he needed his hearing checked. “Sure.” He was determined to think about the job at hand, not Lauren in her high heels. “If the time conflicts with my schedule, I’ll have Kayla give you a call.”

“Great. And I’ll bring dinner for us, so come hungry.”

He was hungry, but food wasn’t what he was thinking about. “Sure, okay. See you then. Goodbye,” he said.

After clicking the speakerphone to off, he tapped his fingers on his cherry wood monstrosity of a desk. The room suddenly felt empty. He envisioned Lauren sprawled out on his desk, wearing nothing but lacy thong underwear and spiked red heels.

What was wrong with him? His focus was shot. Lauren was a business partner, nothing more. She had left Alaska for a reason. It’s not as if she was back for good. Maybe meeting up with Cheryl would cure him. Or maybe he needed another run on the beach.

Chapter Six

Lauren packed the last of the “picnic” dinner into the cooler. Tuna sandwiches, curried chicken wraps, sliced watermelon, grapes and strawberries, potato salad, antipasto salad, coleslaw, cheese cubes, and a chilled bottle of wine. She didn’t want to actually cook at the hotel because she wasn’t sure what kind of kitchen facilities they had, and she wanted all her attention to be on the business at hand. She had to make sure Trey didn’t regret hiring her, and she needed to prove her food, even cold, was better than the best.

The Salmon Catcher Hotel was three stories high, and Briggs Enterprises had done a lot to spruce up the outside. The building had a rustic, wooded lodge look. Each room boasted a log-style private deck with flower boxes on the rail. The hotel never used to have those aesthetic touches. The flowers in each window, as well as the front deck, were filled with wild irises. They were lovely. Most Alaskan flower boxes were filled with petunias, pansies, and marigolds—how interesting that the hotel featured wild irises. Or perhaps Trey had chosen them. In fact, now that Lauren thought back, there were also beautiful purplish-blue wild irises growing near the playground where she’d tracked Trey down. Interesting.

The curved cobblestone walkway led to an inviting covered porch, complete with bench seating along the rail. Light gray in color with white trim, the hotel felt more like a home.

The front door was locked. She checked the time on her cell phone and sniffed the salty smell of the ocean. She was fifteen minutes early. She gathered her notebook and cooler and made herself comfortable on one of the benches.

She barely had time to smooth out the wrinkles in her skirt before she spied Trey’s black truck parked behind her van. Rocking back and forth on her heels, she gave herself a pep talk about how there was no reason to be nervous because he’d already given her the job. Now they just needed to discuss the details, and the specifics of what kind of food he wanted. Yet, for whatever reason, he did make her nervous.

He was solid and austere, just like that big cherry wood desk in his office. He was embedded into the community like the grains in the wood. He fit in this town, and although she’d grown up here, her eight years away made her feel like a stranger.

Trey stepped out of his truck, and the sea’s breeze ruffled the short sleeves of his poplin button-up shirt. His eyes met hers.

Heat flushed her skin and she blew out a panicky breath. Where did that come from? He was her boss—not some long-lost lover, finally home to take her to bed.
Focus
. Apparently she’d been in Hollywood too long, because where else would she have come up with these half-baked, far-fetched stories?

She waved at him. He nodded and strode down the winding path toward her. Her belly knotted up in a ball. He wore casual khaki pants and brown leather shoes. She could envision boxer briefs melded against his ass and muscular thighs, hard and tight from daily runs along the beach.

She stopped her anxious rocking and took a step toward him. “Hello, Trey.”

“Lauren.” He nodded in his cool businesslike way.

“I hope you’re hungry. I brought lots of food.” Lauren fiddled with a seam of her skirt before picking up the cooler.

“I am.” He eyed her legs and shoes.

She shrugged, wondering if she detected interest in the way he looked at her, or whether he just liked her shoes. “I’m sorry it’s just a cold meal, but I didn’t know if the renovations had included a functioning kitchen yet.”

He pulled keys from his front pocket and unlocked the double doors. Wild iris designs engraved the stained glass. Apparently, he did have a thing for wild irises.

“As far as I know, everything is in working order,” he said pulling open the doors. “They only have some painting to complete on the third floor, then the carpet will be installed and furniture brought in.”

“I noticed all the rooms have decks. The hotel didn’t used to have that, did it?”

“No, I added the decks in the renovations.”

“Very nice touch. Could we go to the top floor to see the view of the ocean?”

“Sure.” He held the door for her.

She stepped inside. “I wasn’t sure if the rooms were furnished yet, so I brought a blanket for us. You know, so we’ll have a picnic of sorts.”

“Nope. No furniture on the third floor yet,” he said.

“Perfect. A picnic it is.” She flashed him a smile. “If you’ll take the cooler, I left the blanket in my van.”

His cheek twitched. His icy blue eyes surveyed her from top to bottom, then he reached for the cooler’s handle. Their forearms brushed against one another and the urge to sway against him left her momentarily breathless. Lauren grappled for balance on her four-inch heels before she made her escape out the door.

She fanned her heated face with her hands. Plain and simple, she wanted to jump the guy, but this was Trey Briggs, her client, and her temporary boss. As much as she might like it to be, this was not a date. Everything needed to be business.

She pulled the patchwork quilt made by Grandma from the back of her van. Lovingly, she stroked the fluffy polyester fabric and glanced up at the darkening sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance. What was it Grandma always said? ‘A man needed good food and even better sex to keep him happy?’ Well, she had the food part taken care of, but what would it be like to sleep with her former-classmate-turned-business-partner?

Lauren stared at the darkening clouds in an effort to get her mind back on business. She marched into the hotel. Her new mantra: she could be a businesswoman who was attracted to her client. Just because she wanted to explore more than just menu options with him didn’t mean she would. In fact, she bet lots of women had crushes on their clients. If they could keep it to business, so could she.

Once inside the tiled entryway, a sparkly chandelier hung overhead. Lauren moved to the circular staircase. Brass railings lined the oak edge, while earth-tone tiles formed a mosaic design across the floor. Whoever designed this had eclectic tastes, and she adored the unique feel of the room. She called out, “Trey, where’d you go?”

He emerged from what she assumed was the breakfast or dining area, where round solid wood tables were interspersed. The legs of the tables and chairs had the same brass rails as the staircase.

“I’m right here.” He gestured down the hallway. “Shall we take the elevator?”

“Sure. This is a beautiful place you have here. Just beautiful.”

“Thank you.” He stopped in front of the elevator and pressed the circular button. The doors opened and he motioned for her to step ahead of him.

Lauren felt the smallest whiff of heat against the small of her back. Had he touched her, or had she just imagined it?

Trey pressed the level-three button.

Lauren anxiously watched the electronic numbers flash by, determined not to look at Trey. Determined to keep her mind on business—impressing him with her food, not her bedside manner.

The elevator doors opened as the number 3 displayed in red overhead. She glanced at Trey. His gaze lingered on her ankles, then softened.

She shrugged, feeling nervous again. “I still have a thing for high-heeled shoes. That hasn’t changed in eight years.”

A half-smile flitted across his angular jaw.

It was the first time she’d seen a hint of a smile from him. Her stomach fluttered at the thought. She’d worn a casual A-line navy skirt and a button-up white blouse with capped sleeves. Her navy and white striped pumps completed her casual business attire. She’d even worn her hair up in a loose bun, hoping to pull off the professional look. Unfortunately, she felt anything but professional in Trey’s presence. Wanton thoughts kept sifting through her brain, like pushing the emergency stop button in the elevator and shoving her hands down his perfectly pressed khakis.

She held the blanket to her chest and walked in front of Trey down the hallway. She couldn’t resist putting extra sway in her gait, and casually unbuttoned the next-lower button of her blouse. So much for being professional.

“Hold up.” His deep voice sounded from behind her and she spun around.

She was pretty certain he’d been looking at her ass. Warmth spread from her belly to her breasts as female confidence only earned from a man’s appreciative glance zinged through her.

“You just passed our room.” The husky sound of his voice sent ripples of desire through every nerve of her body.

“Did I?” Her voice sounded breathy, but it might have been from walking so fast. Certainly not because of the anticipation of being alone with Trey in a hotel room. She had to stop her mind from wandering. This was business, not a date.

“This is one of the suites with the best view, but as I said, this floor’s renovations aren’t complete. I think sheet rock and plywood is all you’ll see.”

She hugged the blanket closer to her chest. “That’s why I have the blanket. A picnic is perfect.”

He slid the key card into the door and pushed it open. Flicking on the lights, he set the cooler down and gestured for her to enter.

She brushed by him and caught a whiff of his woodsy scent. She planted her feet slightly apart and surveyed the room. A ladder, paint buckets, and hard hats were stacked in the corner. The green granite, double bathroom sink and Jacuzzi tub were situated on one side, the deck with sliding glass doors on the other. It was easy to see where the king-size bed would fit with adjacent furniture in front of the miniature fireplace.

Behind her, Trey’s footsteps sounded across the bare floor. “It isn’t a real fireplace because the liability of anything real would be too costly.”

“It’s nice. You can flip a switch and it still gives the same ambiance of a real fire,” she said. “Can I step out on the deck?” Heat infused her body as though
she
was on fire. Hopefully stepping outside would cool her off. In more ways than one.

“Certainly.” He stepped in front of her and opened the sliding glass door.

Lauren moved onto the deck and into the ocean breeze. The darkening sky wasn’t from lack of sunshine since the sun didn’t set this time of year, but dark gray clouds covered the light.

“Looks like it’s going to rain, or we could have had our picnic outside.” She eyed the flower boxes filled with purple irises. “The stained glass windows of the entryway, combined with the flower boxes give a very welcoming feel to the place.”