“Is that so?” I ask, swimming over towards her lounge chair. “Feels good to me.”
“That’s because you just got out of that stifling suit. But if you were me, sitting in this chair, aching for a refreshing dunk to cool down, you’d know better. Because I was thoroughly disappointed when I dove in ten minutes ago.”
I stand up in the pool—the depth is only three feet. And as the water rushes down my chest, I don’t miss the fact that her eyes follow those little droplets all the way down to my dick. She recovers quickly, and her eyes find mine again.
“Furthermore—”
“Are you trying to impress me with your analysis, Miss Rockwell?”
“Furthermore,” she repeats, “the AC in my cabana”—she nods her head behind her—“isn’t up to par with what one might expect when it’s a hundred and thirteen degrees outside. It only goes down to sixty-seven.”
“Sixty-seven isn’t cool enough for you, Miss Rockwell?”
“Hardly, Mr. Delaney. I’d like it to be sixty-six. But I can’t adjust it. Well, I can. But it doesn’t get any cooler because you have some sort of temperature threshold built in to prevent the AC from making it any cooler.”
“Did you know that they charge you to use the AC in Paris hotels, Miss Rockwell?”
“I did, actually. I’ve experienced it first-hand. But we’re not in France, Mr. Delaney. We’re in the United States. And people expect the freedom to choose their own temperature in a five-star hotel room. Especially,” she continues, “when it’s a hundred and thirteen degrees outside.”
I walk over to the edge of the pool and lean down, resting my chin on my hands. Her feet are right in front of me. Her little toenails are painted yellow, like she was trying to match her suit.
My gaze travels up her body, lingering on her legs for a moment, before continuing to her breasts, which are spilling out of her top. She shifts her legs, bending one knee into a sexy scissor arrangement, and stares me down.
“Energy is expensive, Miss Rockwell.”
“I realize that, Mr. Delaney. But people expect to be comfortable, whatever that word means to them, when they pay top dollar for a room. So my first suggestions would be to retarget the misters, nix the heaters on the pool at night—it’s simply not necessary since the water can’t possibly cool off enough to matter—and lower the threshold on your AC to sixty-two.”
“Is that your professional opinion?” I ask.
“It is.”
I place my hands flat on the concrete and pull myself up and out of the pool, bringing a rush of water with me that splashes onto her perfectly tanned legs. She has to tilt her head up to me now, and I like the way that makes me feel.
“Thank you for your suggestions,” I say, grinning that grin that drives women crazy. “I’m going to take care of this immediately.”
“It was my pleasure to help, Mr. Delaney,” she calls. “That’s why I’m here.”
I shoot her a look over my shoulder and shake my head.
Don’t do it, Nolan. Don’t start fantasizing about your face between her legs. She’s going home tomorrow no matter what.
Chapter Six - Ivy
Holy shit. I did it. I stood up for myself and made an impression on Nolan Delaney. My heart is beating so fast, I need a moment to calm down.
“Miss Rockwell?”
Claudette’s voice startles me, and when I look over my shoulder, she’s standing a few feet in front of her cabana, door open wide.
“Yes?” I say, getting to my feet and wrapping my towel around my waist.
“I thought I told you not to interact with my brother?”
“You did, but he approached me. It’s not in my best interest to be rude to the man responsible for choosing the next manager of Hundred Palms Resort when I want the job.”
“Want the job?” Claudette asks, walking forward a few more paces. “I’ve already explained the situation, Miss Rockwell. You’re not getting the job. You’re here as a favor and nothing more. You’ll be sent home after the meeting tonight.”
“Probably,” I say, forcing myself to stay brave. Why is Claudette so intimidating? Nolan was far easier to deal with than she is. “But until that happens I’m going to do my best to show that I’m worthy of the position. That I have things to contribute. And that I might just have an opinion that could help this resort.”
Claudette scowls at me, annoyance all over her face. “It’s two o’clock. The meeting is at six. We’ll finish up at eight. You’ll be on the jet by nine. Don’t get too comfortable.”
I nod and smile. But I don’t answer. I just walk towards my cabana and go inside.
When I close the door I’m breathing hard, sweat pouring down my body. And not all of that has to do with the extreme heat.
I did it.
A small smile creeps up my face as I replay my first real interaction with Nolan Delaney. He was arrogant, sure. But he wasn’t demeaning. He listened to my assessment and took note on my observations. Which are correct. I was one hundred percent right and he knew it. And maybe the temperature of the rooms and pool water aren’t groundbreaking revelations, but it’s all in the details, right? That’s what makes a resort worthy of five stars.
I can do this, I decide. I can. I might be right out of school, but I’m smart. I like details. I live for details.
I quickly change out of my bathing suit and throw on some tan slacks and a silky white blouse that should help keep me cool in this abominable weather. I need more details between now and six o’clock. I need to walk this entire place. See all of it. Come up with a plan. It was dumb luck that I was frustratingly hot when I got to the room and decided to take a swim. Dumb luck that I figured out that the pool water was too hot. And dumb luck that Nolan Delaney came along at just the right moment to hear my complaints about them.
But I did it.
I take a deep breath as I dust my face with powder and reapply my eye makeup.