Addicted to You (Swanson Court 2)

There’s a lot to see. The hotel has potential, even with my untrained eyes I can see that, but it’s also clear that it’s suffering. The spa is closed indefinitely for maintenance, as is the expansive putting green. The private bungalows that line the oceanfront are also empty. There’s a restaurant on the deck overlooking the ocean and the white sand beach. Only there do I see an impressive number of customers which, Dave tells me, is because the seafood is popular with the locals.

Afterward, we all have lunch on the deck. The McLarens recommend a fresh seafood dish that’s really excellent, and we talk about Newport, the old private mansions now open to the public, and the tourists that troop in every summer. There is no more talk of business, even though it’s clear that the McLarens are hopeful that Landon will make a decision that favors them.

Finally, Landon thanks them for their time and they walk with us to the entrance, waving goodbye as the valet brings the car around.

On the drive back, Landon puts on some evocative instrumental music, and I close my eyes, drowsy from lunch. “What did you think?” he asks.

I pause to gather all my impressions about the place. “It has a lot of potential,” I tell him, “but it feels so old. Like they’ve tried their best, but they don’t really know how to bring it up to date.”

Landon nods, “You’re right. That’s the impression I got too.”

“So,” I frown, thinking of the hopeful old couple. “What will you do? Will you invest in it?”

He pauses. “Not if they want to keep running the place. It’s admirable that they’ve held on for so long because everything else out there is owned by corporations. That’s why I decided to see for myself, even though my team had already put up a red flag.”

“Oh.” I don’t blame his team, but I can’t shake the image of the McLarens in my head. Maybe I’m too emotional for this business of making money.

Landon continues. “If I’m going to put the Swanson Court name on the hotel and inject my money into it, they’re going to need new management, new ideas, and thorough refurbishment to make it less ancient and more...” he searches for a word.

“Classic,” I offer.

He looks at me and smiles slowly. “Exactly.”

I listen as he talks about what he thinks the place needs. He’s incisive, calculating, thorough, and I’m glad that I’m seeing this side of him. Hotels are in his blood, I realize, but they’re also in his heart.

“You’re so sexy when you talk shop,” I say after a while.

He glances at me, a grin on his face. “Who knew? I’ll have to do more of that when I’m with you.” There’s a pause. “Thanks for coming today.”

“I didn’t mind.”

He nods. “But I’m glad you were there, and that I can talk about my work with you.”

It made me happy too, to be able to share that part of his life. “I’m glad you’re glad,” I tease.

He laughs. “I’m going to make you dinner,” he offers. “What would you like?”

I smile at him. “I’d eat anything you made.”

“Okay.” He thinks for a moment. “How do you feel about grocery shopping?”

The thought of him pushing a cart through the aisles of some grocery store is so incongruous with the image of Landon Court that I almost burst out laughing. However, he’s serious, and he soon pulls into the parking lot of a multi-chain brand.

“Isn’t there someone who can do this for you,” I tease, “so you don’t like... injure yourself or something?”

“You obviously think that I’m an invalid,” he says. “You’re wrong. Just watch me.”

Inside the store, I watch him as he carefully selects from the offering of fresh produce, meat, and vegetables. When he lifts two bunches of celery and turns to me with a ‘What do you think?’ expression, I can’t resist taking a picture with my phone, I show it to him, almost doubled over with amusement.

“Nobody would believe that was you.”

He shrugs, and tosses one bunch into the cart. “Not forceful, ruthless, and single-minded enough,” he says.

I recognize the words from some of the articles I’ve read about him, and I link my hand with his. “Well, at least I know what a sweetie you really are.”

That makes him smile, and we walk together to the counter. I’m enjoying the fact that besides his insane good looks, and the commanding aura he effortlessly exudes, we could be any regular couple, out shopping on a Saturday night. There’s something infinitely pleasurable in the fantasy.

Back at the house, I help him make dinner, mostly ogling him because he’s incredibly sexy even when he’s doing something as basic as cooking.