Maisey Yates - Six Of The Best Of Desire 2016

Damn it. Her dignified bravery tugged at heartstrings he hadn’t tuned in ages. Why was Libby Parkhurst his problem? What was his mother thinking?

Outside his window, the late-January trees were barren and gray. Winter still had a firm hold on this corner of western North Carolina. It would be at least eight weeks before the first high-adventure group arrived. In the meantime, Libby would surely be able to handle the hotel aspects of the job. Taking reservations. Checking in guests. Making sure that all reasonable requests were accommodated.

But even if he split Charlise’s job and gave Libby the less onerous part, he’d still be stuck looking for someone who could handle the outdoor stuff. Where was he going to find a candidate with the right qualifications willing to work temporarily and part-time?

If this had been an emotional standoff, Libby would have won. She never blinked as she looked at him with all the entreaty of a puppy begging to be fed. He decided to try a different tack. “Our clients are high-end,” he said. “I need someone who can dress the part.”

Though her cheeks flushed, Libby stood her ground. “I’ve planned and overseen social events in a penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park. I think I can handle the fashion requirements.”

He eyed her frumpy clothing and lifted a brow...not saying a word.

For the first time, Libby lowered her gaze. “I suppose I hadn’t realized how much I’ve come to rely on the disguise,” she muttered. “I’ve dodged reporters for so long, my bag-lady routine has become second nature.”

Now he was the one who fidgeted. His unspoken criticism had wounded her. He felt the taste of shame. And an urgent need to make her smile. “A trial period only,” he said, conceding defeat. “I make no promises.”

Libby’s jaw dropped. “You’ll hire me?”

The joy in her damp green eyes was his undoing. “Temporarily,” he emphasized. “Charlise will be leaving in two weeks. In the meantime, she can show you how we run things here at the retreat center. When the weather gets a bit warmer, you and I will do a dry run with some of the outdoor activities. By the end of February, we’ll see how things are going.”

He had known “of” Libby for most of his life, though their paths seldom crossed. Patrick was thirty...Libby seven years younger. The last time he remembered seeing her was when Maeve had taken Patrick and his brothers to New York to see a hockey game. They had stopped by the Parkhurst home to say hello.

Libby had been a shy redheaded girl with braces and a ponytail. Patrick had been too cool at the time to do more than nod in her direction.

And now here they were.

Libby smiled at him, her radiance taking him by surprise. “You won’t be sorry, I swear.”

How had he thought she was plain? To conceal his surprise, he bent his head and scratched a series of numbers on a slip of paper. Sliding it across the desk, he made his tone flat...professional. “Here’s the salary. You can start Monday.”

When she saw the amount, Libby’s chin wobbled.

He frowned. “It’s not a lot, but I think it’s fair.”

She bit her lip. “Of course it’s fair. I was just thinking about how much money my family used to spend.”

“Is it hard?” he asked quietly. “Having to scrimp after a lifetime of luxury?”

“Yes.” She tucked the paper in her pocket. “But not in the way you think. The difficult part has been finding out how little I knew about the real world. My parents sheltered me...spoiled me. I barely knew how to cook or how much a gallon of milk cost. I guess you could say I was basically useless.”

Feeling his neck get hot, he reached for her hand, squeezing her fingers before releasing her. Something about Libby brought out his protective instincts. “No one is useless, Libby. You’ve had a hell of a year. I’m very sorry about your mother.”

She grimaced, her expression stark. “Thank you. I suppose I should tell you it wasn’t entirely a surprise. I’d been taking her back and forth to therapy sessions for weeks. She tried the suicide thing twice after my father’s trial. I don’t know if it was being without him that tormented her or the fact that she was no longer welcome in her social set, but either way, her pain was stronger than her need to be with me.”

“Suicide never makes sense. I’m sure your mother loved you.”

“Thank you for the vote of support.”

Patrick was impressed. Libby had every right to feel sorry for herself. Many women in her situation would latch onto the first available meal ticket...anything to maintain appearances and hang on to the lifestyle of a wealthy, pampered young socialite.

Libby, though, was doing her best to be independent.

“My mother thinks the world of you, Libby. I think she always wanted a daughter.”

“I don’t know what I would have done without her.”

Silence fell suddenly. Both of them knew that the only reason Patrick had agreed to interview Libby was because Maeve Kavanagh had insisted. Still, Patrick wasn’t going to go back on his word. Not now.

It wouldn’t take long for Libby to realize that she wasn’t cut out for the rigorous physical challenges that awaited her at Silver Reflections. Where Charlise had been an athlete and outdoorswoman for most of her life, Libby was a pale, fragile flower, guaranteed to wilt under pressure.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, Patrick had cause to doubt his initial assessment. Libby dived into learning her new responsibilities with gusto. She and Charlise bonded almost immediately, despite the fact that they had little in common, or so it seemed.

Charlise raved about Libby’s natural gifts for hospitality. And the fact that Libby was smart and focused and had little trouble learning the computer system and a host of other things Charlise considered vital to running Silver Reflections.

On the second Friday morning Libby was on his payroll, Patrick cornered Charlise in her office and shut the door. “Well,” he said, leaning against the wall. “Is she going to be able to handle it?”

Charlise reclined in her swivel chair, her amply rounded belly a match for her almost palpable aura of contentment. “The girl’s a natural. We’ve already had four clients who have rebooked for future dates based on their interactions with Libby. I can honestly say that I’m going to be able to walk away from here without a single qualm.”

“And the outdoor component?”

Charlise’s glow dimmed. “Well, maybe a tiny qualm.”

“It’s one thing to run this place like a hotel. But you and I both know we work like dogs when we take a group out in the woods.”

“True. But Libby has enthusiasm. That goes a long way.”

“Up until a year ago I imagine she was enjoying pedicures at pricey Park Avenue salons. Hobnobbing with Fortune 500 executives who worked with her dad. It’s a good bet she never had anyone steal her lunch money.”

Charlise gave him a loaded look. “You’re a Kavanagh, Patrick. Born with a silver spoon and everything that goes with it. Silver Reflections is your baby, but you could walk away from it tomorrow and never have to work another day in your life.”

“Fair enough.” He scratched his chin. “There’s one other problem. I told Libby that she would have to dress the part if she planned to work here. But she’s still wearing her deliberately frumpy skirts and sweaters. Is that some kind of declaration of independence? Did I make a faux pas in bringing up her clothing?”

“Oh, you poor, deluded man.”

“Why does no one around here treat me with respect?”

Charlise ignored his question. “Your mother offered to buy Libby a suitable wardrobe, but your newest employee is independent to say the least. She’s waiting to go shopping until this afternoon when she gets her first paycheck.”