So why had his daughter turned up? He knew she’d been to reception and asked if Rex was available to talk. And when she’d been told he wasn’t, she’d asked for Connor.
When his receptionist had asked for the reason, Savannah had left.
Why? What did she want to discuss? Did she want more money?
Connor’s suspicions belatedly resurged. It was no coincidence that she’d picked up a job in town. A job working for his father’s enemy. Bill Reid owned one of the few bits of land on the mountain that the Hughes didn’t control. And with his wife and sons he operated the town’s most successful restaurant and bar on it—St Clair’s. It was all too suspicious.
But instead of finding out more about why Savannah was here and what it was she wanted, Connor had lost his head and gone for a few minutes of hedonistic pleasure.
Stupid.
He’d always sworn never to compromise his principles for lust. He’d reckoned he had the one thing his father didn’t—integrity. He’d vowed never to be like Rex with his countless freaking affairs… Seemed Connor was as weak and as blinded when confronted with a desirable woman.
Pathetic.
Trouble was, he wanted her again already.
Not happening. He’d concentrate on work and that didn’t mean operating the damn lifts all day. He’d indulged in that enough. But he’d needed to be out there on the mountain and remember what it was he really loved.
“Good night, sir?” The night porter held the door for him.
“Yes, thanks,” Connor answered briefly. “Can you send Marilyn up to me in ten?”
“Of course.”
He’d get a debrief on how the day had gone from the bar and restaurant manager.
He had to pull it together. He wasn’t going back to St Clair’s—the competition. Wasn’t going to see what it was the beautiful Savannah wanted. Whether he was what she wanted again.
He took the secret spiral staircase at the back of the huge industrial kitchen and climbed the couple hundred stairs to the very, very top.
He’d worked so long and hard for this week and all he was rewarded with was a sense of disillusionment. Was this it? Finally he’d gotten what he’d worked so hard for so long for, yet he felt so… blah. Logan, his brother, had gone back to New York. Dani, his baby sister had also taken time out—running to New York to escape him and his adamant order that she return to varsity.
And he’d finally gotten his parents away on some Mediterranean cruise. It was the first vacation his father had had in years and it was only because Connor had booked it. He’d had to threaten him with exposure if he hadn’t gone. Though he and his father both knew it was an empty threat. Connor would never do anything to jeopardise Summerhill. So Rex had taken the official retirement line. Connor had complete control of the company.
No more screw-ups.
He tapped the security code to unlock the thick wooden door at the stop of the last curl of stairs. His father had thought he was mad to want the attic space as his own suite but he loved it. Loved the isolation and view. He could lock himself away, work on his computer and only had to glance up to survey his whole world through the windows.
He stepped straight into the shower and sluiced away the dried sweat from that insane encounter. He flicked the faucet to freezing to force heated memories from his head. He roughly toweled off and pulled on clean jeans and a tee. He’d just switched on his computer when there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he called.
Marilyn walked in, looking nervous.
“No problems?” he asked.
“No, everything’s smooth. Slight trouble with a few unruly guests in the bar but they’re staying at the apartments, not in the hotel. We encouraged them to head home.”
Connor nodded. “Covers at the restaurant? Takings from the bar?”
“Not bad. But not on target.”
He knew why that was. St Clair’s, arch-rival in the restaurant scene, had scored a beautiful trickster of a bartender. Connor settled more comfortably in his seat, he’d distract himself with details. “By how much?”
Savannah was glad she was on double shift duty again. It gave her restless body something to do. She’d helped out with waitressing in the restaurant in the late afternoon before switching back to straight bartending duty. She’d given Dante—Luca’s younger brother—a quick lesson in mixing a couple of classic cocktails in the short break between sessions.
The bar was busier than ever tonight, more a club atmosphere than the side room off a restaurant. It was good distraction and she didn’t need to keep watching the door. He wasn’t going to walk in. He’d gone.
She eyed the bottles lined up behind the bar, hunting for her neon green water bottle. Luca had probably hidden it. He didn’t think it suited the black and white decor of the venue. But she needed to rehydrate and keep her mind sharp. The cocktail crowd had finally arrived and wanted a show. So what if she’d had no sleep last night? She could still juggle three bottles of vodka with the best of them.
She glanced over as a group of young women in peacock pretty dresses walked in. Perfect, they’d definitely want complicated concoctions. And there was her own water bottle—she’d left it by the ice bucket. Good.
“Another beer, doll.” Ultimate Jerk-Off and his side-kicks were there of course. Had been since they’d opened for the evening. Though they’d not bothered with eating tonight, opting to prop up the bar and drink. She was going to have to monitor them. But Luca could be the one to tell them when they’d had enough. She was done with dealing with them.
“Hey babe,” Ultimate Jerk-off winked at one of the cocktail queens who, Savannah was pleased to see, simply turned her back to him.
Ten cocktail creations later Savannah took another long swig from her water bottle. Serving so many beautiful, rich young things was hot and thirsty work. She wanted a break, just for a minute. She leaned her elbows on the bar. She could forget about the customers in front of her for five, couldn’t she?
But then her mind started trailing down a path she really didn’t want it to. Memories stirred sensations. Heat, closeness. Darkness.
Her vision blurred. She blinked, trying to refocus. Breathed in. Why did her lungs feel corseted? Maybe she needed something to eat? Had she even had dinner tonight? She couldn’t remember. She picked up her water bottle and took another sip.
“Excuse me? Can I get served please?” Another regular waved at her.
“Of course you can darling,” she smiled widely at him. “Sorry.”
The younger guy blinked and then flashed a huge smile back at her. “Okay. Great. I need champagne.”
“Of course you do,” Savannah purred. “A jeroboam tonight? Or just a magnum?”
His jaw dropped open. “A jeroboam sounds good, if you’ll have some with me?”
She thought about it while she found the right bottle in the fridge out back. Except thinking seemed to take a lot of time. How long was it since she’d had champagne?
Too long.
“Save me a glass,
” she murmured as she popped the giant bottle in front of her super-alert customer.
“Sure thing. I’m right here. Saving everything for you.”
“Nice.” Savannah licked her lips, vaguely noticing the guy’s eyes widen. But damn she felt thirsty. For water.
Someone came in through the door. Damn—was she still looking? But wait. This guy had ultra short hair. Ultra blue eyes.
OMG.
Her body flushed super hot. And she froze. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Hadn’t he finished his work up on the mountain? Why hadn’t he left town? Damn, but her body didn’t care. Nope, her body flooded with pleasure like she’d been starving for centuries. He wasn’t in the fluoro gear tonight, but jeans and a thin sweater. She saw more of his muscles. He was tall but not obscenely bulky. Whipcord strong. She knew there wasn’t an ounce of fat on his utterly honed torso.
She wanted to lick that torso. Again.
Was it her or had there been a second of stillness, of silence in the bar when he’d walked in? Impossible, the background dance beat was till blaring. It was that commanding presence that everyone in the restaurant seemed to be aware of. She frowned as she watched a few people go over and talk to him. A couple of the ultra-rich guys, a few more of the especially glam women. Their laughter rang too loud. Obsequious. King of the Mountain.
He wasn’t smiling. Wasn’t laughing. He was looking at her. And there was that anger banked in his eyes again. She liked it. She knew what it really was.
Lust.
Savannah pressed her hands down flat on the wood, trying to steady herself. Her legs wobbled, her brain had turned into cotton wool. She wanted to be bare assed and riding his cock again this second. To have gone from celibate to insatiable in less than twenty-four hours?
And damn, if he didn’t owe her. She’d not had the amazing night’s sleep he’d promised. Instead she’d lain awake thinking about what they’d done. What else they should have done. And he was going to pay for that. Long and slow this time. And hard.