His Accidental Heir. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
Mrs. Trager had given him. He’d kept all the accessories except for that one—the huge pink pet carrier made Cam look like he was travelling with Barbie’s Dreamhouse under his arm.
“She’s so cute.” Maresa kept her eyes on the dog and not on him. “And yes, I lived in Paris for a year before returning to Saint Thomas.”
“You’re from the area originally?” He almost regretted setting the dog down since it removed a barrier between them. Something about Maresa Delphine drew him in.
His gaze settled on the bare arch of her neck just above her jacket collar. Her thick brown hair had been clipped at the nape, ending in a silky tail that curled along one shoulder. A single pearl drop earring rolled along the tender expanse of skin, a pale contrast to her rich brown complexion.
“I grew up in Charlotte Amalie and worked in a local hotel until a foreign exchange program run by the corporate owner afforded me the chance to work overseas.” She glanced up at him. Caught him staring.
The jolt of awareness flared, hot and unmistakable. He could tell she felt it, too. Her pupils dilated a fraction, dark pools with golden rims. His heartbeat slugged heavier. Harder.
He forced his gaze away as the elevator chimed to announce their arrival on his floor. “After you.”
He held the door as she stepped out into the short hall. They passed a uniformed attendant with a gallon-sized jug stuffed under his arm, a pair of earbuds half-in and half-out of his ears. After a quick glance at Maresa, the young man pulled the buds off and jammed them in his pocket, then shoved open a door to the stairwell.
“Here we are.” Maresa stepped aside so Cam stood directly in front of the entrance to the Antilles Suite.
Poppy took a seat and stared at the door expectantly.
Cameron used the keycard to unlock the suite, not sure what to expect. Was Maresa Delphine worthy of what the company compensated her? Or had she returned to her hometown in order to bilk guests out of extra tips and take advantage of her employer? But she didn’t appear to be looking for a bonus gratuity as her gaze darted around the suite interior and then landed on him.
Poppy spotted the patch of natural grass just outside the bathroom door. The sod rested inside a pallet on carpeted wheels, the cart painted in blues and tans to match the room’s decorating scheme. The dog made a break for it and Cam let her go, the leash dangling behind her.
Lilacs flanked the crystal decanters on the minibar. Through the open door to the bathroom, Cameron could see the bubbles nearing the edge of the tub, the hot water still running as steam wafted upward.
So far, Maresa had proven a worthy concierge. That was good for the hotel, but less favorable for him, perhaps, since her high standards surely precluded acting on a fleeting elevator attraction.
“If everything is to your satisfaction, Mr. Holmes, I’ll leave you undisturbed while I go make your dinner reservations for the week.” She hadn’t even allowed the door to close behind them, a wise practice, of course, for a female hotel employee.
Rudolfo was already in the hall with the luggage cart. Cameron could hear Maresa giving the bellhop instructions for his bags. And Poppy’s.
“Thank you.” Cameron turned his back on her to stare out at the view of the hotel’s private beach and the brilliant turquoise Caribbean Sea. “For now, I’m satisfied.”
The room, of course, was fine. Ms. Delphine had passed his first test. But was he satisfied? No. He wouldn’t rest until he knew why the guest reviews of the Carib Grand were lower than anticipated. And satisfaction was the last thing he was feeling when the most enticing woman he’d met in a long time was off-limits.
That attraction would be difficult to ignore when it was imperative he uncover all her secrets.
As much as Maresa cursed her alarm clock chirping at her before dawn, she never regretted waking up early once she was on the Carib Grand’s private beach before sunrise. Her mother’s house was perched on a street high above Saint Thomas Harbor, which meant Maresa took a bike to the ferry each morning to get to the hotel property early for these two precious hours of alone time before work. Her brother was comfortable walking down to the dock later for his shift, a task that was overseen by a neighbor and fellow employee who also took the ferry over each day.
Now, rolling out her yoga mat on the damp sand, she made herself comfortable in child’s pose, letting the magic of the sea and the surf do their work on her muscles tight with stress.
One. Two. Three. Breathe.
Smoothing her hands over the soft cotton of her bright pink crop top, she felt her diaphragm lift and expand. She rarely saw anyone else on the beach at this hour, and the few runners or walkers who passed by were too busy soaking up the same quiet moments as she to pay her any mind.
Maresa counted through the inhales and exhales, trying her damnedest to let go of her worries. Too bad Cameron Holmes’s ice-blue eyes and sculpted features kept appearing in her mind, distracting her with memories of that electric current she’d experienced just looking at him.
It made no sense, she lectured herself as she swapped positions for her sun salutations. The guest was demanding and borderline rude—something that shouldn’t attract her in the slightest. She hated to think his raw masculinity was sliding under her radar despite what her brain knew about him.
At least she’d made it through the first day of his stay without incident. But while that was something to celebrate, she didn’t want her brother crossing paths with the surly guest again. She’d held her breath yesterday when the two passed one another in the corridor outside the Antilles Suite, knowing how much Rafe loved dogs. Thankfully, her brother had been engrossed in his music and hadn’t noticed the Maltese.
She’d keep Rafe safely away from Mr. Holmes for the next two weeks. Tilting her face to the soft glow of first light, she arched her back in the upward salute before sweeping down into a forward bend. Breathing out the challenges—living in tight quarters with her family, battling local agencies to get her brother into support programs he needed for his recovery, avoiding her former fiancé who’d texted her twice in the last twenty-four hours asking to see her—Maresa took comfort in this moment every day.
Shifting into her lunge as the sun peeked above the horizon, Maresa heard a dog bark before a small white ball of fluff careened past her toward the water. Startled by the sudden brush of fur against her arm, she had to reposition her hands to maintain her balance.
“Poppy.” A man’s voice sounded from somewhere in the woods behind the beach.
Cameron Holmes.
Maresa recognized the deep baritone, not by sound so much as by the effect it had on her. A slow, warm wave through the pit of her belly. What was the matter with her? She scrambled to her feet, realizing the pampered pet of her most difficult guest was charging into the Caribbean, happily chasing a tern.
“Poppy!” she called after the dog just as Cameron Holmes stepped onto the beach.
Shirtless.
She had to swallow hard before she lifted her fingers to her lips and whistled. The little Maltese stopped in the surf, peering back in search of the noise while the tern flew away up the shore. The ends of Poppy’s glossy coat floated on the surface of the incoming tide.
The man charged toward his pet, his bare feet leaving wet footprints in the sand. Maresa was grateful for the moment to indulge her curiosity about him without his seeing her. A pair of bright board shorts rode low on his hips. The fiery glow of sunrise burnished his skin to a deeper tan, his square shoulders rolling with an easy grace as he scooped the animal out of the water and into his arms. He spoke softly to her even as the strands of long, wet fur clung to his side. Whatever he said earned him a heartfelt lick on the cheek from the pooch, its white tail wagging slowly.
Maresa’s