say those very words. "We do occasionally have minor inconveniences."
Give me a break. "All right. Explain the minor inconvenience."
"Mrs. Salvetti canceled."
"No, she didn't."
Oliver's shoulders slumped. She knew what he was thinking. Here we go again.
"I'm afraid Mrs. Salvetti did cancel. It is odd, I'll agree. It's so rare to get two last-minute cancellations like this. Of course, you're both members of the same family, so I guess we could say it was really only one last-minute cancellation for two rooms."
"Listen to me. My aunt didn't cancel. She called me from the Aspen airport yesterday."
"Perhaps something came up at the last minute and she had to return home," he suggested.
"Something's very wrong."
"It's right here in my computer, Miss Delaney. Your aunt called yesterday afternoon."
What in the world was going on? As much as Avery wanted to continue to argue with Oliver, she knew it wouldn't solve
anything. She wasn't sure what to do now. If an emergency had come up at work and Carrie had had to return to Los Angeles, she would have called. She wouldn't have left Avery hanging like this. Oh, God, what if something had happened to her or Uncle Tony? What if there had been an accident?
Calm down, she told herself. If anything bad had happened to either Carrie or Tony, one or the other would have called her.
Avery began searching her backpack for her phone. She would get hold of Carrie on her cell phone right this minute and find
out what was going on.
She pulled out her Day-Timer and her billfold, clutched them in her right hand, and kept searching for her phone with her other hand. The damned thing always ended up on the bottom. "My aunt didn't cancel," she muttered. Then, more to herself than Oliver, she added, "There must have been a crisis at work. That's all I can think of to make Carrie turn around and go back home."
"Oh, your friend's back." Oliver didn't sound very cheerful.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your friend… he's coming this way. Maybe he can clear up this misunderstanding."
She didn't know what he was talking about. She didn't have any friends meeting her here. She turned around to see whom
Oliver was watching, but there was only a man striding toward the counter, a big man, she corrected. Odd, but he seemed to
be staring at her. And he didn't look happy.
"Are you referring to the gentleman coming this way?"
"Yes," he answered. "He was the one I was telling you about. He was here yesterday, looking for your aunt." In a low voice he added, "If anyone could benefit from our aroma stress-relief massage therapy, it's definitely your friend. I suggested the treatment to him, but he was quite…"
"Quite what?"
"Resistant to the idea. Actually, he was quite difficult about everything. I know I shouldn't say anything negative about a potential guest, but your boyfriend is wound tight inside. He should be practicing yoga on a daily basis. I mean, the man growled at me. He really did. Can you imagine? I told him you were scheduled to check in. It was noted in the computer under Mrs. Salvetti's reservation, and that's who he asked for when he came up to the counter. Your aunt called in and canceled. I had the unfortunate duty of telling him. Let me tell you, he wasn't happy about that news. He told me he'd come back today to see you, and he's been here since early morning. I noticed him when I came on duty. I hope he's in a better mood today."
She wasn't paying much attention to Oliver's prattling. She was busy watching the man crossing the lobby. He was something else. She'd never seen anyone like him, except maybe in the movies. The closer he came, the bigger he got. Tall and muscular, with dark hair and a weathered complexion. She guessed that he spent a good deal of his time outdoors or in a gym somewhere working on his abs. He was ruggedly good-looking, but he was too into the physical to appeal to her. She much preferred brains over muscle.
The man had great bone structure. That thought led to another, and she suddenly thought she knew who he was and what he wanted.
"You do know the gentleman, don't you?"
"It's okay. I'm sure he's a friend of my aunt's." Carrie had probably used him in one of her commercials, and maybe, since he
was in the area and had found out she was staying at the spa, he'd decided to stop by and say hello. It was either that, or
muscle man was out of work and hoping that Carrie would take a liking to him and offer him a job.
Avery had great sympathy for actors because it was such a competitive field and so much of the decision-making process
was out of their control. The odds against making it in Hollywood were astronomical. She made up her mind to do what she
could to help. She waited until he was about three feet away, then put her hand out and introduced herself. "My name's Avery Delaney." Oh, yes, he was definitely an actor. He had the dark, brooding look down cold.
He grasped her hand in his. "My name's John Paul Renard." His voice was deep and wonderfully southern.
Lordy, he had great eyes. The color of a gray dawn. She couldn't imagine him holding up a roll of paper towels in a commercial. Explosives, maybe, but not paper towels.
His body language intrigued her. He turned so that his back was to the counter; then his gaze slowly scanned the lobby. She got the odd feeling he was memorizing every face.
"You're a friend of my aunt Carrie's?"
"Yes."
No further explanation, no embellishment whatsoever.
"You're an actor, right?"
The question so surprised him he smiled. "No."
"Oh… I thought… then what do you do for a living?" God, she hated it when people asked her that question, and it was really none of her business how the hunk, who couldn't even bother to look at her when she spoke to him, paid his rent.
"I'm a carpenter."
No way. "A carpenter?"
"Uh-huh." He drawled out the answer and stared into her eyes. She could feel the heat rush to her face and hoped to heaven
she wasn't blushing. The man did have the strangest way about him.
Carrie was right. She really needed to start dating again. It had obviously been way too long. If a brute of a man like this one
could affect her… way too long.
"A carpenter," she repeated. Then, "Okay." She'd go along. "And you've done some work for my aunt?"
"No." He was back to watching the people strolling into the lobby as he answered. "I need to talk to her," he said impatiently.
"It's important. Where is she?"
"I'm not sure," she said. "But I'm about to find out." She turned around to search through her backpack again when a sudden, horrid thought occurred to her. She almost groaned out loud. "Did my aunt want you to meet me here?"
Carrie was up to her old tricks again, Avery decided, trying to play matchmaker. She was a little surprised at her aunt's nerve.
She thought that her last talk with Carrie had done the trick. Her aunt had promised- vowed, actually-never to try to fix her
up again.
Avery's voice was curt when she said, "Carrie isn't here today. If you're in the area, you could try back tomorrow."
He didn't take the hint and go away. Deciding to ignore him-no small feat considering his size-she continued to hunt for her phone. She finally found it on the very bottom and pulled it out. Oliver began to shake his head. "Is there a problem?" she asked.
"There are no problems at Utopia, but the use of cell phones on the premises is frowned upon." Having said that, he pointed to a black-and-gold sign propped on the counter near the corner.
She flipped open the phone's cover, pushed the speed dial to Carrie's cell phone, and said, "Then I guess you better start frowning."
John Paul liked her response. Spunk, he thought. What a surprise. The plastic California girl with the too-blue-to-be-true eyes