Compromising Her Position (Compromise Me 1)

But honesty ought to be freely given. “I practically grew up at Las Ventanas. I worked there through high school and college—everything from housekeeping, to room service, to the gift shop. Once I had my degree, I spent three years as the assistant manager. I know that resort inside and out. I don’t have the same familiarity with this property.”

“I’m sure you’ve had a thought or two about Tradewinds.”

Okay. Maybe he’d pegged her a little. “I might have suggested we narrow our focus. Tradewinds has a desirable setting, with limited capacity. I think we should play to those limits, instead of pretending they don’t exist and trying to offer everything.”

“What do you recommend?”

“Take out the kiddie pool, because this is a singles resort. Yes, singles have kids, but they’re not bringing them on this type of vacation.”

Because he really appeared to be listening, she turned toward him, crossed her legs and rested her elbow on her knee. “Same deal with fifty percent of the banquet facilities. We need to be able to host bachelor and bachelorette parties—occasions like that—but the hotel is too small to be a major draw for conferences or other large events. We should go upscale and exclusive. Remodel the spa to double its current size. Turn all the guest rooms into retreats, on par with the VIP villas. Splurge on high thread count bedding, plush towels, and bathrooms guests will want to live in. I know prevailing wisdom says tourists come to Maui for the beach and the outdoor activities, not the accommodations, but some demographics fly in the face of prevailing wisdom. Singles with the right resources want their comforts.”

“I agree with everything you’ve said.” He tilted his head and aimed his lethal blue gaze at her. “Why is it so hard to believe I’d ask for your opinion on Tradewinds?”

All righty, then. Time to put it out there. A swallow of her drink fortified her nerves. “Opinions are one thing, but last night you expressed an interest in something else.” She placed her drink on the table and crossed her arms. “Just to be clear, I’m not interested in sleeping with my boss. I learned my lesson at Las Ventanas, and I won’t make the same mistake again.”

Rafe relaxed into the sofa, and draped an arm across the back. “As it turns out, I’m not your boss. You work for Tradewinds and report to John and Evelyn Templeton. Now, this is purely an assumption on my part, but I suspect you’re on the right side of your rule where they’re concerned.”

“Very funny.”

“Yet you’re not laughing.”

“Because I take my career seriously, and accepting the deal liaison role puts me at risk.”

One black brow winged up. “How do you figure?”

“If a whisper of what happened between us at Las Ventanas came out, everyone would think I landed the job because I slept with you. I’d be a joke.”

His expression cleared. “Apart from us, the Templetons, and a handful of lawyers and accountants, nobody’s going to know about this deal, or your part in it, until we close. Nobody here will know you’re doing a new job, much less speculate about how you landed it. Before I arrive next week, we’ll come up with a plausible cover story to ensure that’s the case, because we need to be able to spend time together without raising any speculation.”

“That’s reassuring, but—”

“But it skirts your main concern. What you’re really trying to figure out is whether you can trust me to keep a secret.”

Bingo. And trust had to be earned. “Can I?”

His eyes met hers, and held steady. “Yes. I don’t discuss my personal life with anyone. Seems we have that in common. I know you didn’t tell Barrington what happened, and I’m guessing you didn’t say a word to anyone else at Las Ventanas. Am I correct?”

She nodded.

“So there’s not much chance of anyone here learning the particulars of our first meeting. Does that help?”

Some, she had to admit, but his promises didn’t erase all her worries. Spit it out, she ordered herself. “Is ‘acquainting you with everything about Tradewinds’ a fancy way of saying you want—or expect…” She couldn’t bring herself to finish the question. God, her life officially qualified as a mess if she had to confirm whether her job duties included sex.

He didn’t blink. “The Templetons aren’t pimps and I’m not a John. Having sex with me is not part of the job.”

Now she felt like a big moron, but she’d take that over hooker. “Good to know.” She picked up her glass, sat back, and sipped her drink.

He rela

xed against the sofa as well, all broad and rangy and completely at ease. “I’m glad we got that squared away.”

“Me, too.” She settled deeper into the cushions and took another drink.

“When we have sex again, it will be for one reason only—because you can’t bear another second without me inside you.”

She sucked in a breath at the same moment she swallowed, and accidentally served her unsuspecting lungs a burning dose of rum and Coke.

Chapter Nine