Carrie Alexander - A Holiday Romance

“Thanks for the warning,” she said. “I don’t want to spend my entire vacation playing canasta and taking naps.” She’d had enough experience with that pace of life to keep her until she was eighty.

“The condo gangs seem to be into poker these days. And you might be surprised. Some of them are quite lively.”

“Oh, I’m sure they are. I didn’t mean to stereotype, it’s just that…” Alice broke off; she didn’t want to delve too deeply into her close acquaintance with the gray-haired set on Osprey Island. “I was hoping for more action. My mother and her friends, um…”

They had reached the entrance and were waiting for the maître d’ to return. Chloe looked at Alice. “Yes?”

Emotion had clotted in her throat. “You see, I was caring for my sick mother for a long time, and my life got to revolve around hers. Four months ago, she passed on. So, basically, I’m at loose ends. This trip is a new start for me.”

Chloe was sympathetic. “I hear you. You’re turning a fresh page. You want something different. Not the over-sixties crowd from the condos.”

“Yes,” Alice said gratefully.

“No problem! I’ll see to it that you have an especially exciting stay.” The dimples reappeared in Chloe’s small round face, one high on her cheek, two others framing her rosebud mouth. “I’ve got all sorts of ideas for activities galore.”

“Keep them within reason.” Alice couldn’t prevent a note of caution from creeping into her voice. “I talk a good game, but I’m not sure how daring I’ll actually be.”

“Naturally, the safety and comfort of our guests are our primary concerns,” Chloe said, but then she added, almost to herself, “Hmm, what about Camelback? And rock climbing…”

Oh, dear. “Right now, I’d settle for dinner. It’s been a long day.”

“Of course.” Chloe waved impatiently for the maître d’ while surveying the busy dining room. “I’ll get you a good table. Would you prefer the patio?”

“Anything will do,” Alice said. The clink of silverware, the murmur of conversation and soft harp music were inviting. She watched a handsome, suntanned couple lean close over the flicker of a tea light and wished she wasn’t alone.

Never mind. Make the best of it.

“Even by the kitchen,” she added.

“ Pfft. You deserve better than that.”

I do, Alice silently agreed. She’d spoken out of habit. Like most Osprey Islanders, she was accustomed to humility. Ostentation was not appreciated there.

While Chloe conferred with the maître d’, Alice gazed at the elegant dining room. The rustic stone, wood and stucco of the lobby gave way to a more refined Spanish design with arches, glass lanterns and wrought-iron sconces. White linen and exotic birds of paradise dressed the tables.

Alice smoothed her skirt. It was a style she’d never worn before, striped like a flag in fiesta colors that suddenly seemed too garish and common. When she’d bought it, she’d imagined herself sipping sangria under an umbrella on a sunny patio, not sticking out like a cheap piñata at an exquisite soirée.

“All righty,” Chloe said. “You’ve got a table by the window, but it won’t be ready for another ten or fifteen minutes. I’d love to take you for a drink in the Manzanita Lounge. It’s right through here.”

“You don’t have to stick with me.” Alice lowered her eyes so that the other woman wouldn’t see how much she really didn’t want to be on her own tonight. “I’m sure you have other guests to attend to.”

“I can spare ten minutes.” Chloe looped a hand around Alice’s elbow. “In fact, you’d be doing me a favor. The new night concierge is a taskmaster. I don’t get to mingle with guests very often since he came on the job.”

“Well, if you put it that way…” Alice said with a light laugh that eased the strain in her throat. She wasn’t as prepared for this adventure as she’d have liked.

Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she’d have adjusted and would feel more equipped.

They went into the adjacent lounge and sat at the bar to order drinks. The bartender was a good-looking young Mexican whose dark eyes were set off by the high collar of the staff uniform. After serving them with a flourish, he was called away to the other end of the bar.

“Do you know him?” Alice whispered before taking a sip of a prickly-pear-flavored rum punch.

Chloe had settled for the nonalcoholic version. “Ramon? He’s new. Cute, don’t you think?”

“Young.”

“He’s putting himself through college, but he started late. He’s only a year younger than I am.”

“You’re young, too.” This was one of the times that thirty-four and never a bride seemed ancient to Alice. “Sounds like you know him pretty well.”

“We’ve talked.” Chloe grinned. “And flirted.” She swiveled to gaze longingly down the polished stone bar before swinging her stool back in Alice’s direction. “What about you? No significant other waiting for you at home?”

Alice spun her straw, swirling the ice in her drink. “No one.”

Chloe’s eyes creased. They were tilted up at the corners by the pull of her tightly anchored high ponytail. “Has your heart been broken?”

Alice blinked. Did it still show? She’d been jilted by Stewart almost five years ago.

Five years—wow. She hadn’t added it up lately. She felt as if the breakup had only recently happened. Yet she knew that she’d been lucky to be rid of the faithless man and that there were much deeper losses.

Under normal circumstances, she might have been able to get over Stewart and move on. But romantic options on Osprey were limited. She’d been left with far too many empty hours to brood.

“Water under the bridge,” she said, putting on a nonchalant front. “And way down the river.”

Chloe nodded sagely. “We’ve all watched that stream flow by.”

“Some of us more than others,” said a plump, older woman who was passing by. “My rowboat’s capsized a few times, but I keep on paddling.” She raised her hand, calling out, “Yoo-hoo, cutie!” to a silver-haired man in cowboy boots and a bolo tie before hurrying away.

“That’s Leilani Steen,” Chloe said, “assistant to the boss.”

“The taskmaster?” Alice asked.

“Not my taskmaster. A different one. Actually quite a hot one, if he’d ever loosen his tie and pop off his cuff links.” Chloe spun right around, sitting straighter as she did. “Speak of the devil. There he is now.”

Alice glanced over her shoulder and saw the rowboat woman talking to someone who towered over her, while the woman’s suitor hovered at her elbow. “Which taskmaster?”

“Lani’s boss. Mr. Kyle Jarreau.” Chloe’s tone was filled with admiration. “Manager of the whole PM shebang.”

PM meant Prince Montez, Alice remembered, as a second look had her straightening up right alongside Chloe. There was something about the man who’d just walked into the lounge that made a woman draw a breath all the way to the bottom of her lungs.

Lani and her date had moved on and the “taskmaster” stood alone in the archway between bar and restaurant. Alone but at ease, his presence effortlessly commanding as he surveyed the area.

The air in the room became electric, the employees galvanized. Alice rubbed her palms over the goose bumps on her arms. She swiveled toward the bar. The back of her head and neck tingled as if he’d looked her way.

“Uh-oh,” Chloe said without moving her lips. “He’s seen me.”

Alice exhaled. Not me. Of course, not me. “You’d better go on, then. I don’t want to keep you from your job.”

Chloe slid off the stool. “Have a nice dinner.” She laid her hand on Alice’s arm. “I’ll be in touch tomorrow and we’ll plan your schedule.”