How did she know that?
“You aren’t ready.” The words were whisper soft near her forehead.
“For what? Him?” She smirked. “I’ve done my research. Mr. Locke gets a lot of attention from the press, so it wasn’t that hard. I think I know what to expect.”
He released her and scowled. “Did you know he likes to drop in on his new properties prior to any official meetings? Mr. Locke believes it’s the best way to get a feel for a place before the formal tours and breakfast burritos cloud his judgment.”
Bailey’s eyelid twitched, her world tilting for a heartbeat as she caught on.
She closed her sweater protectively and stepped back. “Does Mr. Locke also talk about himself in third person and not introduce himself on purpose, so his new employees can be embarrassed by his big reveal?”
He gave her a pained look. “Bailey.”
It was just her name, but it told her so much. He hadn’t meant to mislead her. He hadn’t expected anything that happened tonight. Join the club.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to sit down, Mr. Locke?” She tossed a few of her shirts off the narrow couch in her room and gestured politely. “Unless you’d like to get back to your associates. You must be tired, since your flight was delayed.”
You almost kissed Cameron Locke.
It was going to take time, and probably lots of alcohol, to process that.
He crossed his arms, the muscles straining his shirt in a way that was practically pornographic. “Most of my associates had earlier flights, and nothing but praise for you.”
“That’s nice.” And news to her. The last email she’d gotten had come yesterday, and it hadn’t mentioned exact arrival times.
The man traveled with an entourage. Who needed six or seven people following them around at all times? Rich people, that’s who. She didn’t mean to stereotype, but it was hard not to. Up the hill, in the canyon, on a different planet—that’s where people with Locke’s kind of money lived. The air was different there. He might as well be a Martian.
Who knew Martians were great big hotties?
“You surprised me.” He was staring at her mouth, distracting her. “Someone so young running an inn without a partner. It’s not an ordinary job. Living where you work. Constantly on call.”
She got this a lot. Usually from men. “Let me guess. You look at this place and see the innkeeper as a cookie-baking widow or a power couple who left the rat race to make their own applesauce? My guests have no issues with my age or relationship status, Mr. Locke. And no complaints about my service.”
“I’ve seen the reviews. After my meetings with Pikeson, it was obvious you were the one keeping this place afloat, if not thriving. I’m not trying to insult you, but things will be different now. You say you aren’t a fan of change, but change is exactly what this place needs. I have to wonder how you’ll manage my more hands-on approach.”
Her heart thundered in her ears at hands-on. “I said I wasn’t used to it, but I’m more than capable of adapting. I’m young and single. Flexibility is a given.”
He inhaled sharply and she bit her tongue. Everything coming out of her mouth sounded like a challenge or a sexual invitation. To her boss. She had a sinking feeling she was about to be fired.
It might be a good thing. She could catch up her shows or her reading. Spend more time visiting with friends. And now that he’d shown her she still had a sex drive, maybe she could finally accept those offers she’d been regularly turning down. She wasn’t sure if ending her celibacy made up for being homeless and having her dreams flushed down the toilet by some rich playboy, but it was something.
You won’t be homeless this time.
True. She had the money she’d been saving to buy the inn, and Dani would take her in until she found a new place. She loved Bailey like a sister, and the pool and a live-in chef would be icing on the couch-surfing cake. It would be like visiting a spa. She would make it work.
“Have I lost your interest?”
Never.
She’d been busy planning her depressing new life of unemployment and bracing for the hammer to fall. “Like you said, just sorting out the logistics. If you’ll give me tonight, I think I can have my things out by morning.”
“You can what?” He leaned back, looking as stunned as if she’d punched him. “Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because I’m fired?”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Why would you think that?” He rubbed the back of his neck, the movement so frustrated she almost wanted to smile again. Almost.
“Anyone would think that, Mr. Locke.”
“Most people wait until they hear the actual words.” He shook his head. “You’re not fired.”