“While I’m in Alaska, yes.” Mesmerizing blue eyes float over my uniform, unnerving me. I was already feeling self-conscious in it. My skirt hugs my body from my hips right down to my knees. It’s a good thing that bending won’t be easy in it because the slit up the back is deep. The blouse is more fitted across the chest than I had expected, and I don’t know if that’s the design or my disproportionately ample boobs. It’s missing at least two buttons off the top for what I’m comfortable with. I won’t be able to lean over without exposing myself. All in all, it’s a modest, professional outfit that’s not so modest or professional after all. But I guess all the female liaisons wear it, so I need to suck it up.
Henry takes several steps back—his feet are bare—and gestures for me to come in.
I follow him, the smell of soap and aftershave filling my nostrils. His hair is still damp from a shower.
I finally force my eyes off him—because I’m staring—and train them on the full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows on the opposite end. The vast expanse of water stretches beyond. “Nice place.” Inside, the cabin walls and ceiling are made entirely of wood. I can’t be sure of what kind, but it has a grayish coloring, which complements the soft decorative palette of whites, grays, and creams. It’s obvious that a topnotch designer had a hand in every detail.
My head tips back to take in the double-story vaulted ceiling, and the thick beams running the length on either side. “Steep.”
“I like high ceilings,” Henry explains easily, wandering over to the dining table, where room service dishes rest. He pours himself a coffee. “Would you like one?”
I hold up my paper cup in answer.
A sexy smirk curls his lip. “I promise, this will be better.”
While he’s pouring into a second cup, my gaze drifts toward a sliding door to the right, half-open. Behind it I spy the bedroom, a mess of bed sheets strewn over the bed. My body begins to hum with the mental vision of Henry’s body tangled within those sheets. Does he wear something? Or does he sleep naked?
“Abbi?”
“Yes?” My head whips back to Henry, to find him holding the creamer over my cup.
“Cream and sugar?”
“Yes, please.”
He prepares it wordlessly and then sets the cup in front of me.
“Thank you.” I take a long sip, releasing a soft moan. He’s right—the stuff from the staff lodge tastes like mud by comparison.
He quietly watches me savor my coffee, one hand resting over the damask-upholstered dining chair, until I begin to squirm under the weighty gaze.
“Why did you tell Belinda to move me here? I don’t know the first thing about serving your wealthy guests. I’m going to disappoint people.” You, most of all.
He sets his mug down. “You’re not here to serve my rich guests. I want you to work for me.”
I frown, confused. “I thought I already was working for you.”
“Not as Wolf Cove staff. As my personal assistant.”
“Your personal assistant,” I repeat, surprise numbing my senses.
“I lost my assistant recently, and I need someone to keep me organized. Someone I can trust. And, frankly, I need someone to take care of me. Look at this place; it’s a disaster.”
I scan the room again at his prompt. Aside from a few loose newspapers and empty dishes, I don’t see anything amiss. “What would you need me to do?”
“Basic admin work, like managing my calendar and e-mail, booking my meetings, booking excursions with investors and other important clientele that come in. Attend management meetings with me. Liaise with Belinda to make sure the grand-opening event goes smoothly. That is especially important. There will be a lot of media here.”
“I have no experience.”
“That’s not what you said in your interview. You worked in the church office, managing your reverend’s calendar and helping organize events, right?”
I laugh. “That’s nothing like what you’re asking me to do now!” A weekly coffee with Edith, the ninety-two-year-old organist. The first of the month food drive in the church basement. Not exactly on par with the CEO of a luxury hotel chain’s daily schedule, I’m sure.
He pops a grape into his mouth and chews slowly. “I called the Reverend. He spoke highly of you.”
“Reverend Enderbey? You called him?” I squeak. “When?”
“A few days after the job fair.”
“You wanted me back then?” His eyebrows spike and I replay my words in my head. “I mean, for this job,” I quickly correct, flushing.
He flashes the tiniest, most devilish of smirks, and my stomach flutters. I’m beginning to crave those smirks. “I began considering you for the position then, yes.” With slow, measured steps, he closes the distance to me, circling me. “I called your aunt, too. We spoke at length about your work ethic, your reliability, and your values.” There's a hint of mockery with that last piece, and I wonder if that has to do with his own lack of faith, or my poor demonstration of those values to date. “She told me all about your painful breakup with the Reverend’s son.”
“Wait a minute.” It dawns on me. “So, that night on the dock, you already knew who I was and that you’d hired me to be your assistant?”
Henry stops directly behind me, forcing me to turn around. I find him on the edge of my personal space, like a sly animal closing in on me. Confusion and wariness compete for my attention. What kind of game is he playing here?
“I hadn’t made my final decision yet and, honestly,” his steely blue gaze flickers to my mouth, “after that night, I wasn’t sure that you would be a good fit for me.”
Because I practically licked his neck and asked him to sleep with me. Will I ever live that night down?
“That’s why I took you out yesterday morning. I needed to spend time with you, sober, to make sure that this would work.”
“And you think it will?”
“Obviously.”
Obviously. “So, then... Hiring me for the outdoor team—”
“Was never going to happen. When I found out, I made Belinda change you in the system before you got here. There is no way I am putting you in there with those guys. It’d be like dropping a lamb into a pack of wolves.”
So Belinda was in on this from the beginning. That explains her lack of concern or compassion. “I can take care of myself,” I argue, feeling more than a little annoyed at being deceived all this time.
He reaches up to touch my braid, his fingers skimming down the length of it until he lets it fall. “Really? And what do you think would have happened to you that night, had one of them found you on the dock instead of me?” Amusement slides off his face, replaced with a hard look. “Drunk and broadcasting that you’re a virgin, your hands all over the guy’s chest, whispering in his ear... asking him to fuck you.” I gasp at his words, more inappropriate now than when I said them to him that night. “Your night would have ended with you bent over the table in the utility shed, I can promise you that. Most men don’t have the kind of control that I do, not when you dangle that kind of bait in front of them.”
What is he saying? That he needed to exercise control that night? Was I maybe not imagining things? Was this beautiful, sexy, all-consuming man in front of me considering acting on my request?
I push that thought aside because it no longer matters, if I’m going to be working as his assistant. And because it’s plain ludicrous. Still, I struggle to regain my composure. My voice wobbles when I speak. “What if I don’t want to take this job?”
Surprise flickers across his face. “You don’t want to work with me every day? I thought you were happy that I was staying.”
“No, that’s not... I’m not saying...” I stumble over my words. “I mean, what if I’m not convinced I can do this job?”
He smiles now. “I’m convinced you can do it. You’re smart. I think you know when to jump at an opportunity. Fake it ’til you make it, right? Or something like that.”