“Unless your hands are otherwise occupied?”
It took her a moment to process the sly comment, and then she jerked her hand out from under her skirt, and sat up at the same time, losing her hold on her phone in the process. Good Lord, had she really been about to stroke herself to oblivion accompanied by the sound of his voice?
She heard her name from somewhere nearby, and felt around for her phone. How long had this experimental naughty girl been lurking inside her? She fell back onto the bed, equal parts appalled and amazed. Tearing her attention away from the mirror, she cleared her throat. “Yes, Mr. St. Sebastian?”
“The villa sounds like a one-of-a-kind experience. I can’t wait to arrive and enjoy the pleasures firsthand.”
Smooth. Confident. Not the least bit out of his depth. This adventure constituted a new experience for her, but not for him. Not by a long shot. The ease with which he’d toyed with her reminded her they played in very different leagues. Did she really want to join his? Was she equipped to?
The air conditioner kicked in and pumped cool, heavy air over her skin. She shivered and tugged her skirt into place. “I’m sure you’ll find the villa accommodates all your needs, but other than the comforts it affords, you shouldn’t take anything for granted.” Great. Now she sounded like an uptight bitch. You just had something perilously close to phone sex with the man. Can you blame him for making assumptions?
His laughter carried over the line. “I promise you, Chelsea, I take nothing for granted.”
Maybe not, but she still felt like a mouse to his cat. Even though she had no idea which office at Las Ventanas he’d commandeered, she imagined him with his feet propped on a big polished desk, hand behind his head, smiling as he spoke into the phone. Before she could think up a brilliant comeback, he went on. “But when I find something I want, I work for it. I pursue relentlessly, if necessary.”
Wanted. Pursued. Magic words to a woman rebounding from a bruised heart and a trampled ego, with the power to entice her to do things she wouldn’t normally do. Tonight offered a perfect example. Not that she cast herself as some helpless victim of his calculated seduction. The telephone diversion might have been Rafe’s idea, but she’d gone along because she’d wanted to. To please herself. Literally. In a strange way, it seemed like a step in the right direction. She stood and slipped her feet into her shoes.
“Do you always get what you want, Mr. St. Sebastian?”
“Ask again, but call me Rafe this time.”
“Do you always get what you want, Rafe?”
“I just did. See?”
Okay, he’d played her like a child’s toy, yet she couldn’t help but laugh. “Tradewinds prides itself on providing excellent customer service, which includes addressing our guests in any way they prefer.”
“Maybe. But we both know there are things you’ll do for me that have nothing to do with customer service.” His voice dropped. “Things you’ve never done for anyone else. You never wanted to before, but you do now.”
Yes, she certainly did. He knocked her off balance, the way he teased her one moment and then hit her with unrestrained intensity the next. A tiny vestige of self-preservation had her scrambling to keep things light. “Hmm. Know what I really want to do right now?”
“Name it.”
“It’s pretty personal. I might shock you.”
“Nothing shocks me.”
“All right. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. I have this fantasy where I drive home, change into something comfy, and eat dinner in front of the TV while watching the Laker game highlights.”
He laughed, which didn’t completely cut the wire of sexual tension snapping between them, but brought the vibration down to a less distracting level. “Me, too. Unfortunately, only one of us is going to get to indulge that particular fantasy tonight.”
Fatigue or frustration weighted his voice. Maybe a little of both. Before she could remind herself of all the reasons she shouldn’t care, she asked, “How are things at Las Ventanas?”
“We’ve hit a few snags. This place misses you.”
“I miss it, too.” Saying the words sent a pang of homesickness through her, so she rushed on, “and I’m sorry about the snags.”
“They’re not your fault, although you’d certainly be able to work them out. I hear, ‘Chelsea always handled that,’ at least ten times a day. Barrington can’t run a simple occupancy report on his own.”
A small, petty part of her bounced and clapped at the idea of Paul floundering without her, but she strove to reply diplomatically. “He concentrated on supervising, and relied on me to bring him the information he needed.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. He relied on you for information and analysis. Now we’re all suffering from the loss.”
Suffering? Little needles of guilt pricked her inner pleaser into action. “I could try to help, if there are specific questions…?”
“I appreciate the offer, but I need to find a viable, long-term solution to the knowledge gap. Using you as an unofficial bridge until we can get our arms around the operation isn’t viable, or long-term. It’s also not fair to you.”
“I don’t mind. I left without notice.”
“No. This falls on me to fix, and I’ll fix it. My board expects Las Ventanas to re-launch next month as a St. Sebastian resort. We’ve got a lot of work to do between now and then, and the fact that everything takes more time and effort than I envisioned when I sold them on the plan is something I’ll have to deal with.”
“Can you go back to your board, explain you encountered unforeseen circumstances, and provide a revised plan?”
“Yes, but”—he paused, and she pictured his dark brows v-ing into the moody scowl that put a flutter in her stomach—“doing so would cost me more than I’m willing to pay.”
“I don’t understand. Why would they care if you held the re-launch next month versus the month after?”
“My father chairs the board. He believes in setting aggressive goals and achieving them. He does not believe in ‘unforeseen circumstances.’ I promised him three strategic acquisitions, in three key markets, by the close of our quarter in February. If I achieve the goal, he’ll step down as chairman and support my appointment. If I don’t, he won’t. I’ve been working toward this too long to give him an excuse to question my commitment. He can think what he wants about how I run my personal life. I make very few personal commitments, and I would never argue otherwise, but with respect to the business, I take my responsibilities seriously.”
Guilt flared again. Her abrupt resignation from Las Ventanas caused consequences she’d never imagined. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. This is not your problem. I’m not sure why I mentioned any of it, but it was not to make you feel responsible.”
“I honestly don’t mind helping.” She almost felt Laurie kicking her.
“You always take on other people’s problems?”
“Sort of, yes.” Apparently it was an evening for personal disclosures. “My friend Laurie recently pointed out to me that I chase approval. I hate to disappoint anyone.”
“Must be exhausting.”
“It’s led to some regrettable decisions. I’m trying to reel myself in.”
“Is that so?”
Criticism disguised as a question, but still her lips quirked. “This is different. I really want to help.”
“You are. As deal liaison for Tradewinds, you’ll help ensure this transaction goes smoothly and nobody has to manage any unforeseen circumstances.”
“I’ll do my best, but my other offer still stands, okay?”
“There are far more interesting ways for you to earn my approval.”