Woo for them. Frankly, she barely gathered up the energy to care. Yes, the news underscored how long she’d been oblivious to something going on right under her nose, but she owed Paul and Cindy a big thank-you for showing her, once and for all, nice girls finished last.
She tossed her phone on the counter and it landed beside Rafe’s watch. An unwelcome memory barged into her mind, of buying that big, splashy timepiece for Paul. Yet another sad attempt to cater to the man in her life. At the time, she’d thought the generous gesture would foster intimacy by showing him the level of her commitment. Now it seemed like a perfect indicator of her level of insanity.
She shrugged out of the robe and stepped into the bath. When she sank into the warm water, her sore muscles insisted she knew certain aspects of Rafe pretty darn intimately. And that was exactly the level of intimacy she wanted in her life right now.
So stop getting uptight about toothbrushes and timepieces. Concentrate on fun, attraction, and hot sex. Six weeks from now you’ll be in Tahiti, managing a brand new resort, and Rafe will be satisfying his ambitions as the head of St. Sebastian Enterprises.
Chapter Fourteen
“Where are you, and, more to the point, where is my jet?”
Rafe stood on the balcony and contemplated chucking his phone over the bluff. “The G-6 belongs to the company, and I’m using it for company business.”
“A weekend rendezvous is not company business.”
“The Tradewinds acquisition is company business. I’m in Maui.”
“You were scheduled to leave for Maui today. Why—?”
“You were the one who told me not to leave the due diligence to the lawyers and accountants. You should be delighted. I’m taking your advice and spending time on-site, getting to know the property firsthand.”
“I take this to mean the Las Ventanas re-launch is on schedule? The agreement was three acquisitions completed and integrated by the deadline. If the re-launch does not proceed as planned, it hardly matters what happens with Tradewinds.”
Rafe closed his eyes and counted to ten. Losing his temper only validated his father’s suspicion he lacked the discipline to take the helm of the organization. “The Las Ventanas re-launch will not only occur as scheduled, it will be an unqualified success.”
“Oui, but you know I prefer to qualify everything. To that end, I have questions.”
Experience had taught him his best option was to tolerate the questions, answer those he saw no harm in answering, and dodge anything he preferred not to discuss. He doubted the illusion of cooperation completely fooled his father, but it would work better than sacrificing his phone to the Pacific. “Of course you do.” He lowered himself to a lounge chair while his father peppered him with questions about remodeling costs, personnel, marketing campaigns, and financial forecasts.
The Q&A portion of his evening continued through a trip to the bedroom to grab a shirt to go with the shorts he’d tugged on while waiting for his father to get on the line. He spent a long moment staring at the closed bathroom door, imagining wet, naked Chelsea on the other side.
Luc rambled on about the projected increase in revenue per available room while Rafe directed two waiters through the villa and stood by while they set up dinner on the terrace. He fielded questions about capital investments as he approved the wine, signed off on the bill, and sent the servers on their way.
The topic had turned to the guest list for the re-launch party, which meant his father was running out of minutia to torment him with, when a sound behind him drew his attention.
Chelsea hovered in the doorway between the main room and the terrace. A thin, strapless, yellow sundress hugged her curves and flared out at the waist to a short, leg-baring skirt. She’d swept her hair into a loose bundle. Strands escaped and tempted a man to toy with them before dragging his fingers through the whole silky mass.
“I have to go,” he said into the phone, and disconnected.
She raised her eyebrows. “Did you just hang up on your father?”
“I saved us a long, awkward good-bye.” God, he wanted her again. Wanted to back her up against the terrace rail, pull the dress off, and feast on her until he forgot all about dinner, or deals, or the stress of handling his father.
Glossed lips tipped up at one corner in a hesitant smile. The dimple begged for his tongue. “Sounds like an interesting relationship.” Her attention wandered to the linen-draped table. “I hope I didn’t delay dinner. You’re probably starving. I know I am.”
Back to plan A. They’d eat first. Then he’d peel her out of the wispy little sundress. He was fairly certain she didn’t have a stitch on underneath. His definition of essentials for her didn’t include underthings, and, consequently, he hadn’t bothered looking for any while he’d been in her villa. He held a chair for her and, once she was seated, took the one beside her. “Good. I ordered plenty. The chef recommended the seared scallops to start.”
She draped her napkin on her lap and then fiddled with her silverware. “They’re my favorite. Everything’s okay with your dad?”
“He’s annoyed with me, as usual. Kept insisting I’d borrowed his jet without permission.”
The smile flirted with her mouth again. She propped an elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “Is this the billionaire’s version of taking Dad’s car without asking?”
“Technically, it’s not his plane.”
“But you should have asked first?”
“That would be treating it like his plane, don’t you think?”