Summer Escape With The Tycoon

Noises sounded from the bathroom. Unhappy noises. Apparently a little peace was indeed too much to ask for.

When the door opened he schooled his features and turned around.

And nearly swallowed his tongue.

She was angry; there was no doubt about that. Her blue eyes, framed by sooty lashes and set above lips that remained full and plump even as they were puckered in displeasure, snapped at him. She was wrapped in a hotel robe, and it was big on her, but he still had the picture of her legs in his head and the front of the robe gaped just enough to offer a tantalizing glimpse of cleavage.

He swallowed. Hard.

“I suggest you take your bag and go right back down to the desk,” she snapped.

He offered what he hoped was a calm, pleasant smile. “I think we should go down there together. I’ll wait for you to get dressed.”

“I don’t think so.”

“But possession is nine-tenths of the law,” he reminded her. “So I’m not leaving. That—” he pointed to the bed “—is my bed and I’m going to be taking a nap on it, so let’s not be difficult.”

A smile touched her lips. “Don’t quote law at me,” she said, a bit of mockery in her tone. “I’m a lawyer.”

Ugh. “Of course you are,” he muttered. He frowned as he looked at her face more closely. There was something unsettlingly familiar about it, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She put her hands on her hips, which only made the gap in the front of the robe wider. He tried really hard not to stare, but damn, she was attractive. There was no denying that. Where had he seen her before?

“It just means that the only thing worse than having someone mistakenly in my room is having a lawyer mistakenly in my room.” He knew it was an unfair thing to say, but seriously. The whole reason he was on this trip alone was because of his divorce and he was still bitter about how much he’d lost in the settlement.

“Wow. All right.” She moved to the desk and picked up the phone. A few moments later she hung up and turned to face him. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get dressed. Someone will be here in a minute to sort this out. Please let them in.”

She grabbed something out of a closet, slammed a few dresser drawers and disappeared into the bathroom again.

He gawped at the bathroom door. Holy cats, but she had cool dismissal down to an art form, and she knew how to sling orders, too. If he weren’t so annoyed, he rather thought he could use someone like her in his company. The way she’d sashayed into the bathroom hadn’t escaped his notice. A memory tugged at the corner of his mind, but before he could try to grab it, she came back out at the exact same time as someone knocked at the door. They both moved to answer it, but Eric sent her a quelling look and stepped forward.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Quinn, Mr. Chambault. I’m Paul, the assistant manager, and I’m so sorry for the mix-up.” He tried a smile. “Mr. Chambault, I’m afraid there was an error upon check-in that resulted in you being given the keys to Ms. Quinn’s room.”

The look on her face was triumphant.

Eric hesitated a moment, searching for the right words rather than the ones spinning through his head. “Accidents happen. If I could be shown to my actual room, that would be great.”

Paul’s smile turned into something that resembled a grimace. “Unfortunately, your room isn’t quite ready yet. It’ll be about an hour. We’re happy to keep your bags for you in the meantime, and you’re welcome to wait in our executive lounge and enjoy some refreshment. I promise that you’ll be in your room and settled before your group dinner this evening.”

“Group dinner?” Ms. Quinn—that was what he’d said her name was—stepped into the conversation. “You’re not with the adventure tour, too, are you?”

Oh, Lord. He didn’t want to go through the next ten days with her in the group. Suddenly that solitary sitting-on-a-beach thing was looking very enticing—why had he chosen this over the tropical vacation he’d initially planned? He met her eyes and was surprised to see something that resembled embarrassment in their depths, not to mention her flushed cheeks. Whether caused by embarrassment or from the heat of the bath, he didn’t know, but the trip was ten days long and he didn’t want this inauspicious event to set the tone.

“I am,” he replied and nodded. “I guess there’s nothing to be done about it.”

There was an awkward pause. Paul began taking Eric’s suitcase and carry-on bag to a bell cart while Eric and Ms. Quinn stood awkwardly in what was, apparently, her room.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” she offered, slightly more subdued than she’d been earlier. He was about to snap back with a sharp retort when he put himself in her shoes. She’d been relaxing in a bath when a strange man had walked into the room. Of course she’d been angry...and she had every right to be. Even if the mistake had been in his favor, he could understand her reaction.

“And I’m sorry for freaking you out,” he replied. “It’s been a long day.”

Her lips twitched a little, and those pouty lips curved up in a smile. Then a smile with teeth...and then a light laugh came out of her mouth.

He chuckled a little, too. “Not exactly a great icebreaker, was it?”

“No,” she answered and stopped laughing. Her face was more relaxed now, though, and something shimmered in the room between them. Maybe it was just the awareness that he’d caught her in a fairly intimate situation. Whatever it was, he was uncomfortable with it.

“I’m Molly,” she said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. “Molly from Massachusetts.”

“Eric,” he answered, taking her hand. It was still warm from the heat of the water, and soft. But her grip was firm and he liked that. The memory slid back. Damn if she wasn’t the actual reason he was on this particular trip. “Wait. You’re—”

“We’re all set here, Mr. Chambault.” Paul reappeared at the door, interrupting Eric’s sentence. Eric dropped her hand, still a little shaken by his sudden realization. He’d seen that smile before. That soft, plump mouth with a teasing grin. It had been the mention of Massachusetts, though, that had really tipped him off. She was the woman from the hotel. The one who’d outbid him. He’d wanted the trip badly enough that he’d booked one for himself anyway. He’d never dreamed they’d be on the exact same one.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, then stepped away. Maybe she wouldn’t remember him, and he’d just pretend they were complete strangers. Because really, they were.

Ten days. She’d be a part of his tour group for the next ten days. One thing he knew for sure: he couldn’t ever interrupt her bath again. The last thing in the world he needed was a holiday romance. And Molly from Massachusetts could be very tempting, indeed.

* * *

Molly let out a breath as she stepped into the private dining room. She could do this. Good heavens, a room full of strangers was not an unusual thing, and they were all on holiday. No one was worried about division of assets or custody agreements. So why was she so nervous?

She wiped her hands on her linen trousers and admitted to herself that it was all due to Eric...whose last name was something French. She only remembered that because the assistant manager had called him Mr. Something or Other. But it fit. His voice was low and smooth, with just a hint of an accent on certain words. Together with his thick dark hair and chocolaty brown eyes, it was no wonder her sexy-ometer had gone a bit haywire the moment they’d shaken hands.

But that wasn’t all. She’d tried to have a short nap herself, and it had been in that moment just before nodding off that she’d remembered those eyes. She was good at placing people and he was the one who’d lost the bid on this very trip at the benefit this past spring. The big question was, did he remember her?

She was the last to arrive in the dining room, and there was one vacant seat at the table. And, of course, it was directly to the right of Eric. Her nerves went crazy again, sending butterflies winging through her stomach. Oh, well. Might as well get used to it and set the tone. After all, they were going to be in the same group for the next week and a half. At least he didn’t seem to remember her. She could just pretend that she’d never laid eyes on him before. No problem.

She went to the table and pulled out the chair. “Wow,” she said easily. “I didn’t expect you to save me a seat.”

He turned his gaze to her and she felt the little jolt of electricity again. “I didn’t,” he said dryly. “Five minutes ago you would have had a better selection.”

“I’ll survive.” She sat down and reached for her napkin. “Has everyone ordered?”

“No. Just our drink orders.”

A server came by and Molly ordered a pomegranate martini, and by the time it had arrived, food orders were being taken. She decided to start with a beet salad, then a main of duck. She listened as Eric ordered his dinner. Then she took a sip of her cocktail.

He’d seen her in the bath. Ever since, she’d wondered exactly how much he’d seen. She hoped her breasts had been covered. She’d definitely had her toes up on the faucet, but had the other bubbles provided cover for...everything else? Her face heated and she put down her glass and reached for her water.

“Something wrong?” he asked, reaching for a slice of bread. He smeared honeyed butter on the top and took a bite.

“Of course not.” She faked a smile and straightened. “Did you have your nap?”

He nodded. “I did. I didn’t have the distraction of a wonderful view.”

Discomfort slid through her. “I’m sorry?”

“My room is considerably smaller than yours, that’s all.”

She reached for the martini again—this could be a long evening. “It’s probably because I got a deluxe package.” She chanced a glance in his direction. “It’s really just a bucket-list kind of thing.”

He buttered another corner of his bread. “So what about this trip is on your bucket list?”

“Oh, well. Uh... Nothing? I mean, I don’t really have a bucket list.” Too late, she realized she’d contradicted herself, something she never did in her profession. Why was she so flustered?

Their salads were served and she picked up her fork. But Eric hesitated and she paused with her fork stuck in a piece of endive.

“What’s the matter?”

He shrugged. “I guess I’m just confused. If this is a bucket-list trip, but you don’t have a bucket list...”

Right. And the last thing she wanted to do was get into her motives and personal life. Instead she smiled. “Oh, that. Well, I’m a bit of a workaholic. I hadn’t really considered an actual bucket list, but I decided that I could do with some time off and something exciting. Trip of a lifetime, amazing experience, yada, yada.”

He nodded and the mood relaxed. “I get the workaholic thing. You’re a lawyer?”

“Yes, family law. Partner in the family firm. Dissolving marriages since 1982, when my dad started his own practice with a friend.”

“Oh.”

That was all he said, and the air seemed to cool around them. To her surprise, he then turned away and began talking to his neighbor on his left.

Maybe her first impression had been right after all. Rude and entitled. Maybe there’d been a moment of something that had flashed between them, but his snub just now had been real. Fine. She ate her salad and struck up a conversation with her neighbors, a husband and wife from northern Alberta who were involved in an oil-and-gas company. Their previous expedition had been walking the Camino de Santiago in Spain, and soon they had her laughing at some of their stories.

The duck was succulent and tasty; a glass of wine after the martini helped take the edge off her irritation with the man on her left. By the time dessert arrived, she was more than ready to head to bed and get a good night’s rest before tomorrow’s beginning of their trip.

She’d ordered the hotel’s signature cake, rich with hazelnut and cream, and promised herself she’d only take three bites and have a strong coffee. Eric had momentarily turned back, and when he saw the dark liquid in her cup, he gave it a side eye. Was it possible she’d been mistaken? The man beside her now didn’t hold any of the warmth and humor that she’d sensed in the mystery bidder back on Nantucket.

And why did she feel like tonight she’d been judged and had come up lacking in some way? Even her coffee got a sideways glance.

“It won’t keep me awake, if that’s what you’re thinking,” she said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to. Listen, I don’t know what I did or said to put you off, but maybe we should just agree we got off to a rough beginning and then stay out of each other’s way during the trip.”

“It’s your job.”

“Pardon?” She put down her fork.

He faced her. “It’s not you. I mean, this afternoon was embarrassing, and yes, I’m judging you on something superficial, but I just went through a major divorce. Let’s just say it was nasty and I lost a lot of money.”

“And you lost your wife, too, right?”

He gave her a cold look. “Don’t act like you care about that. Her lawyer certainly didn’t. It was all about the numbers, and putting a price tag on the six years we were married. Apparently I was such a horrible husband that she deserved five million a year in compensation.”

She knew that wasn’t how it worked, but that he was speaking from a place of bitterness. Moreover, he had to be loaded. Thirty million? He’d paid his ex-wife thirty million dollars?

“Your lawyer should have done better for you,” she said firmly, picking up her coffee cup. “Children?”

“None, thank God.” She sloshed some of her coffee and he shrugged. “Not that I dislike children. Quite the contrary. I’m just glad we didn’t have any to get caught up in a custody battle.”

She relaxed a little and met his gaze. “I know.”

“Do you?”

His tone was accusatory but this time she let it bounce off her. She did know. Her parents had stayed together but custody agreements were tough, and if anything made her cry in her job, that was it. Children were not possessions or assets. And sometimes there was an internal struggle between fighting for her clients’ interests and trying to do what was right for the kids.

“I think I’ll go up now.” She put down her cup and started to push out her chair.

“Nantucket,” he said, his voice firm and definitive. “You outbid me, Ms. Quinn.”

Her cheeks flamed as she put her napkin on the table. “Yes—yes, I did. I wasn’t sure you remembered. Mr....?”

“Chambault. And I remembered.” His gaze was hard, his body language sharp and edgy as he reached for his drink. “You held out to the last minute.”

“I play to win.”

“Not everything is a game.”

“No, but strategy matters. Good night, Mr. Chambault.”

She turned on her heel and walked away, her heart pounding. The evening hadn’t gone as she might have liked, but at least she’d ended it with the last word.

CHAPTER THREE

MOLLY STRETCHED IN front of her window and took a deep breath, taking in the view. Dawn had come about an hour earlier, and now the morning sun sparkled off Victoria’s inner harbor and the pristine white sailboats docked within it. She’d slept soundly; despite the turmoil of dinner, the mattress had been most comfortable, the pillows plump, and the dose of melatonin she’d taken for the time-zone changes had carried her off to sleep. Today they’d leave for the Cowichan Valley, where they’d visit several wineries, do some tasting and spend the night in luxury before heading for their more “rustic” adventures.

She was just about to head for the shower when her phone rang. A quick look at the screen showed it was her father, and she let out a sigh before answering. He’d thought her trip was foolish and ill-timed, but then she realized that her parents had kept to the same schedule for most of Molly’s life. A condo in Antigua every January for a week. Two weeks in Europe in May, before it got too hot. They stayed in the same places—the right places—with the right people and never varied. The idea of taking off on a whim had caused such an uproar that she’d had to postpone her originally planned trip and rebook.

Now he couldn’t even leave her alone for the ten days she was gone. She didn’t want to resent it, but she did. A lot.

“Good morning, Dad,” she said into the phone.

“It’s noon here.”

“I know.” She rolled her eyes. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to keep you up to date on the Morrison-Cleveland case. She’s asking for less alimony in exchange for full custody.”

Molly pinched the top of her nose and closed her eyes. “Which arrangement benefits the children more?”

“He’s our client, Molly. Not the children.”

A familiar feeling of rebellion rose into her throat. “Well, you know how I feel about this. Look, I know he’s our client but he had affairs and got caught, and then got stuck with a DUI charge. They’re going to have a more stable life with their mother at this point, and it would be great if we could keep them from using their children as leverage. He’s not a family guy, Dad. He’ll pay less in alimony and you can negotiate a fair visitation schedule.”

“I knew that was what you’d say.”

“Then why did you call?”

“You dropped the ball on this one. The idea is that he gets to keep his kids and a bigger portion of his money. You know that.”

Molly sat on the edge of the bed. “I’m not sure I agree.”

“You’d damn well better, for the fee he’s paying. Molly, we didn’t get where we are by being soft.”

There was a long pause, and then Molly said, “I’m on vacation, you know.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.”

The words I’m sorry sat on her lips. For leaving, for leaving her caseload with him, for disappointing him, for whatever else she might need to be sorry for. For being the child who’d survived? But she didn’t say it. She was so tired of apologizing when something didn’t go exactly to plan. Of daring to actually try to have a life of her own. She couldn’t always be Jack. His death hadn’t been her fault. But placating her parents was her fault. She’d got into the habit and now had a hard time getting out of it.

“You know you can do this in your sleep, Dad,” she replied instead. “You don’t need me there.”

“Not really the point, Molly. You left your clients in the lurch.”

Now she was getting truly irritated. “So you’ve said. But even you take a vacation. I’m back in ten days. The firm won’t fall apart.” She sighed and stood once more. “I’m late, so I’m going to have to cut this short. Bye, Dad.”

She hung up, knowing she’d catch hell later for hanging up on him. But seriously. Wasn’t she entitled to a holiday? And at twenty-nine years old she could figure out when and where she wanted to go. She didn’t need his approval, though for some reason both her parents seemed to think she did. She turned off her phone and shoved it into a shoulder bag. Her stomach growled. If she didn’t grab some breakfast soon, they’d be on the road and she’d be running on empty.

She called for a bellhop to get her cases, and once they were collected she adjusted the strap on her bag and headed for the coffee shop. What she needed was a huge coffee and something to take away the gnawing in her gut. In a matter of minutes she was sipping on strong, black brew, with a cranberry muffin in her other hand and a banana tucked into her purse.

The group was congregating in the lobby, waiting for their transportation, chatting up a storm. Molly knew she should join in, make some acquaintances. That was what last night had been for—breaking the ice. Right now she held back. She was still irritated by her father’s call and that work life had intruded when she’d been gone only twenty-four hours.

Eric was standing by the sliding doors, talking to the couple she’d met at dinner last night. He was relaxed and smiling, and suddenly he laughed at something, the warm sound carrying across the lobby and sending goose bumps over her arms. She lifted her coffee and took a gulp, the hot liquid burning her throat.

He looked over and the smile slid off his face as he offered a basic polite nod.

Well, bully for him. He had a very closed mind, judging her for her job just because he was divorced. It wasn’t her fault that negotiations hadn’t gone his way.

She wondered why they’d split in the first place. There was always a reason. She’d heard them all in her years in the firm. A few had caused some raised eyebrows but little surprised her now. She looked at him, standing with his weight on one hip, his hand tucked into the pocket of pressed khakis and his shirt taut against a broad chest. Appearances didn’t count for a whole lot when it came to a lifetime of happiness, but she couldn’t discount the way her breath caught just a little when she looked at him. It wasn’t just that he was handsome. There was a quiet confidence that was magnetic. Yesterday he’d been insufferably overbearing when he’d barged into her room, but something told her he wasn’t always so abrasive.

So he didn’t like what she did for a living. So what? She hadn’t come on this trip as some sort of way to meet a man or hook up. She’d done it to expand her own horizons. To take charge of her own life and live a little. Eric Chambault wasn’t going to stand in the way of that, so she adjusted her shoulder strap, put a smile on her face and made her way to the congregated group standing just outside in the sun, waiting for the luxury passenger vans that would take them to their next destination.

* * *

Eric tipped back his head and let the sun soak into his face. Their tour guide, Shawn, had told them that the first day of the trip was their easiest one—wine tours and tastings. While it wasn’t really on the extreme adventure list, the tour centered on showcasing what Vancouver Island had to offer.

Right now Eric was sitting on a patio just outside the town of Duncan, with the sun beating down on his face and the smell of tart wine and freshly cut grass touching his nose. On his next deep breath, he thought he could taste the tang of the ocean in the air. Maybe this was the “easy” day, but the relaxation came as a welcome relief from his hectic schedule.

He was one of the first back from the tour of the cellars, but his solitude was short-lived as the other eleven in the group made their way, talking and laughing, to the stone patio for lunch. He straightened and smiled as people approached, already flushed from stopping at two other wineries before their late meal. A light laugh caught his attention and he looked up to see Molly—Ms. Quinn—smiling up at someone he’d met named Rick, who was a real-estate developer from Arizona. Rick was at least fifty with a booming laugh, so Eric wasn’t sure why on earth he’d feel the least bit of jealousy.

Maybe because when Molly looked at Eric she tended to scowl, rather than smile, like she was doing right now.

The group congregated around the collection of tables, and within moments the staff began delivering wine selections and platters of local cheese, freshly baked breads, olives, roasted vegetables and fruit. Once again, Molly seemed like the odd person out, like him. Everyone else was either part of a couple or traveling in pairs with a buddy. His skin tingled as her skirt brushed his arm when she pulled out a chair and sat beside him.

“This was a consequence I hadn’t anticipated,” he said quietly as she picked up her napkin.

“What’s that?”

“Being a single in a group full of doubles. It seems as if we’re paired up once again.”

“I apologize.”

Her voice was soft but there was an underlying steel that made him smile. “I should be the one apologizing,” he replied, feeling a bit like a jerk. “I shouldn’t have used the word consequence. It has a negative connotation.”

And yet the correct word seemed just out of reach.

She met his gaze, and he was momentarily lost in her clear blue eyes. “I’m sure that as we go on, we’ll make friends in the group so we’re not always stuck with each other.”