age, she had learned to take swimming seriously and had abandoned all water play.
“Are you sure?” Garrett reached out his arm to run his thumb along the length of her bare arm. Shelby jumped away from him, as if he’d burned her with a match, the pathway of skin he’d traced, hot and tingling.
“I’m positive!” she snapped. “I—I don’t even like you!”
“You don’t, hmm?” Garrett arched his brows. “You could’ve fooled me, honey.”
A hot bolt of anger streaked through her. “Don’t call me honey! I’m not one of your floozies!”
“Floozies?” Garrett laughed out loud. “Where did you come up with that one? Masterpiece Theater?”
Shelby glared at him. “I suppose this is standard operating procedure for you—your obligatory pass at the boss’s daughter. But let me tell you it’s disgusting and demeaning. Do you need to...to validate your masculinity by making a pass at every woman you meet?”
“Your father is not my boss,” Garrett said calmly. “And I had no doubts about my masculinity, although if I had, your passionate response certainly would’ve...um...validated it.”
He moved closer, close enough to trace the taut outline of her nipple, which was defined and straining against the double layers of wet cloth plastered to her. He touched the pad of his thumb to the tight center and rubbed gently.
Shelby gasped as fiery sparks of pleasure flared and burned deep in the most secret part of her. She immediately slapped his hand away, as enraged by his unspeakable boldness as by her own traitorous response to it.
“I’m leaving,” she announced, turning to the shore. “I refuse to spend another moment in your company. You can entertain yourself until your lunch with my father.”
“Shelby,” he called.
Shelby didn’t stop walking, though she looked over her shoulder to glower imperiously at him. “If you try to stop me, I’ll fight you,” she promised. “I took a self-defense class and I can do major damage.”
“I’m letting you go,” Garrett called back, “because I want to, not because I’m even remotely worried about your fighting ability.”
He watched her wade out of the water and storm up the beach to snatch her shoes and socks. She didn’t bother to put them on, but broke into a run along the sand in the direction of the hotel.
Garrett stayed in the water, watching her until she disappeared from view. He wasn’t as cool as he’d led her to believe. He was thoroughly flummoxed by his incendiary response to her. He had kissed her on impulse, but he’d never expected her passionate response, which, in turn, had sent him soaring into the sexual stratosphere.
There was something downright fateful about the whole thing. His Grandmother McGrath was big on fate, always seeing its determining hand in everything, Garrett recalled with a smile. He was more prosaic and pragmatic himself. What Gran called fate, he called timing. The timing had to be right in buying and selling, just as timing was everything in sex, love and friendship.
Right now, the timing seemed highly auspicious. His first venture into the high-end hotel business had led to an encounter with a woman who interested, amused and aroused him.
He didn’t take it lightly. The motel business was Garrett’s real love and he’d come to accept that. He never expected to meet a woman as compelling to him as his business dealings.
Not that he had much opportunity to look for one. He was simply too busy to spend much time on his social life. There were too many other demands on his time. Since business took him all over the country, he was never in one place long enough to cultivate a serious relationship, though he’d had a certain number of no-strings, temporary ones. What red-blooded single man who’d reached the age of thirty-six hadn’t?
Lost in thought, Garrett slowly retraced his path to the hotel. Timing, he thought again. For the past year he’d been growing tired of the way things were and had finally decided to halt his descent into boredom and make some changes in his life. Adding the Halford House to the Family Fun Inns had been a professional change but it seemed that it might be time to make other changes, as well. Changes involving his personal life and those no-strings, temporary relationships.
Would Shelby Halford be part of those changes or was she merely the catalyst for what was to come? He didn’t know the answer but the question intrigued him.
* * *
Halford House’s formal dining room overlooked the ocean, providing a spectacular view for the diners. A smaller, more casual dining room known as The Grill was centrally located in the complex, surrounded by two huge, crystal blue pools, complete with cascading waterfall and poolside bar. Also on the premises were tennis courts, a golf course and a spa, all equipped with their own staff. A dock and marina adjacent to the private beach made sailboats, Jet Skis and catamarans available for hourly or daily rentals. The arcade of exclusive shops and the nightclub with live entertainment and dancing provided diversions for those guests uninterested in land or water sports.
“I’m impressed,” Garrett said as he toured the facilities with Shelby, pretending that it was the first time he’d seen them.
“It’s like a world unto itself,” Paul Whitley enthused. “A perfect world. Only the very best for the very best people.”
Garrett glared at him. When Arthur Halford had instructed Shelby to give Garrett a detailed, guided tour of the facilities this afternoon, he hadn’t mentioned that this bronze, blond surfer in the ice-cream suit would be part of the group.
Only the very best for the very best people. Whitley’s elitist sentiment instantly grated on Garrett. He visualized a 1940s version of Paul Whitley informing young Jack and Kate McGrath that they couldn’t be hired to serve the revered patrons of Halford House because they didn’t qualify, classwise. Only the very best for the very best people.
“Exactly what is your function here, Whitley?” Garrett asked, and received an icy look of disapproval from Shelby for his slightly challenging tone. But he was genuinely puzzled. Arthur Halford had made no mention of Paul Whitley, though he seemed to have some sort of official function around here. And some sort of connection to Shelby. Garrett frowned.
“Paul was the evening assistant manager at the Casa del Marina Resort in California,” Shelby replied before Paul had a chance to. “He was highly thought of there, and we here at Halford House are very fortunate that he was willing and able to join us.”
“And do what?” Garrett pressed. “Be the evening assistant manager? Do they need an assistant manager on every shift? Seems like bloated staffing, if you ask me.”
Shelby refrained from pointing out the obvious: that no one had asked Garrett “Cut Rate” McGrath anything. Yet he was the one doing all the asking, and offensively, too.
She glanced from Paul’s immaculate summer suit to Garrett’s inappropriate cutoffs and hideous banana yellow T-shirt imprinted with bright oranges and a palm tree, with Florida emblazed over the tacky scene in multicolored letters. She didn’t allow herself to concentrate on his muscular build or to remember the virile strength of him when he’d held her in his arms. She didn’t dare let her eyes linger on his hard, sensuous mouth or his deep, dark blue eyes. And most of all, she refused to even think about those impulsive,
