me, Miss…?”
“Lowell. Alexandra Lowell. But almost everyone calls me Alex.”
Almost everyone. For half a second he wondered if those who didn’t fall into that category were men. No matter. He cleared his throat. “Alex. All right. If you don’t mind my asking, what do you do for a living?”
Those big blue eyes blinked. “I work the front desk of a chain hotel and run a Web site promoting the sights and sounds of San Diego.”
“Ah.” That explained things a little. She already had some of the skills a good concierge possessed. While he, he reminded himself, had an empty concierge desk and no prospects in sight.
That was a problem. McKendrick’s was known for its opulence, its attention to detail and, above all, its service. This hotel was the project that had saved Wyatt’s life. He’d built it from the ground up and poured his soul into it during the dark days, when he’d come to a fork in the road and realized that if he didn’t channel his anger into a meaningful goal, he would destroy himself.
These days the resort was a well-oiled machine, but even well-oiled machines could break down without care. A few customers without access to a competent concierge to pamper them could flood the review Web sites and do a lot of damage. Losing Belinda left a hole in customer service that needed to be filled immediately. He could run interference and handle some of her duties, but not all the time. Besides, some guests found him intimidating. He needed to take action. Now.
Wyatt glanced at Alex, a woman guests apparently warmed to, one used to directing people to the local sights and sounds, albeit those of a different city. None of the candidates he’d interviewed thus far could have done what Alex had done. His instincts were urging him to make a move.
Still he resisted. She was a total unknown, who claimed she had a tendency to rush in to help people. That meant she could be emotional, which could mean trouble. And she had those incredible vulnerable eyes that he found far too attractive.
“If you run a Web site, I assume you’re comfortable with Internet research?” he said, probing.
“The web is my weakness,” she confessed. “McKendrick’s site, by the way, has some great features. The virtual tour of the restaurants and clubs is amazing…although a menu for the ice cream bar at the Slide Pool would be helpful. That is, if you’re looking for suggestions.” She looked suddenly uncomfortable. “I—Please forget I said that. I apologize if I was rude.”
The woman just offered you a suggestion on how to improve the hotel Web site, McKendrick. At least interview her, his instincts screamed.
Okay, no avoiding the obvious. Despite his flaws and the mistakes he’d made in his life, he had an unerring instinct about what worked for McKendrick’s. He’d made a fortune following his gut feelings. Randy had been a spontaneous hire, driven purely by instinct, but Wyatt had never regretted the decision. Besides, with Belinda gone he couldn’t afford more time interviewing people who couldn’t handle the job. And this was Las Vegas. Fast. Temporary. A person you met today might be gone two hours from now. And Alex was a guest. Just passing through.
“I wonder—do you have a minute to step into my office?” he asked suddenly. “I have some questions.”
Now she looked wary. “I have friends waiting.”
He nodded. “Five minutes? It’s important.”
Still she hesitated.
For a second he thought he heard her mutter something under her breath about the wisdom of counting to ten. But then she nodded. “All right. After all, what difference can five minutes make?”
A lot, Wyatt thought. A lot could happen, and he had plenty of experience about all the bad things. This time, however, he was hoping for something more positive.
CHAPTER TWO
WYATT glanced at Alex as they moved down the hallway toward his office. She was tall and willowy and…restless. Moments earlier she had excused herself to make a call.
“My apologies for stealing you away from your friends,” he said.
“I just had to let them know where I am. They were expecting me several minutes ago. But since I’m here…could you help me forward a card to Belinda? Babies are important.”
“Do you have children of your own?” he asked.
“No. I’m not married.”
Wyatt felt his senses go on full alert, coupled with a slight sense of relief—no doubt a knee-jerk reaction to the fact that this beauty hadn’t been claimed. But there was also wariness because she hadn’t been claimed. He’d never allow himself to pursue a woman who wanted children. His kind didn’t promise forever, so they didn’t produce babies.
No matter. She would either say yes to what he was about to propose, and their new relationship would create distance between them, or she would say no and he’d never see her again.
Five minutes, he reminded himself, opening the door of his office. “Have a seat.”
She looked at the leather chair as if it might have sharp teeth hiding beneath the upholstery.
“Problem?”
“No. I was just thinking that I feel a bit like a kid who’s unexpectedly been sent to the principal’s office. Mr.—Mr.…?”
“McKendrick. Wyatt McKendrick.”
“Of course. Mr. McKendrick. I’m not sure what this is about, but I have to tell you that I’m pretty uncomfortable.”
“And frank.”
She shrugged. “That’s me.” But, despite her discomfort, she sat. She was wearing a white dress, and he couldn’t help noticing that she had amazing legs. He frowned at his reaction.
“Total honesty does bother some people,” she conceded, and he realized that she had noticed his frown.
Wyatt shook his head. “Honesty is…” What I demand of my employees, he’d meant to say. But he didn’t want to come on too strong. Starting with employee rules would be the wrong approach. “I’ll make this brief, Alex. I’m sure you could see how concerned Belinda was about her replacement.”
Alex looked wary. “Ye-es.”
“She takes her work very seriously, and she excels at it.”
“A good concierge must be hard to find.”
“Yes. The job requires someone who can think on her feet.”
“Of course.”
“Someone who knows how to make customers feel at ease, who makes them feel that their concerns matter, whether they need tickets to a show or have a plumbing problem.”
She blinked. Wyatt supposed the plumbing comment had been too much, since she’d handled such a problem only minutes earlier. But he didn’t have any time to waste. She was a guest here. Temporary.
