Page 8 of Watching Her

After checking the time, I smiled. It was just past eight on a Monday morning in California. Dealing with me would be much better than a strong cup of coffee for the man. Even though I was in shorts and a tee shirt, I flipped my hair back, pretending I was dressed in a Christian Dior suit.

I might as well play the part of an executive. Thank God this wasn’t a Zoom meeting.

He picked up his extension on the second ring. “Jordan White.”

“Jordy. What a pleasure to hear your voice again.”

In approximately three seconds, he realized who was on the other line. His heavy sigh was priceless and telling. “Penelope Michaels.”

Yes, he knew exactly who I was and what I was capable of.

Time to swoop in for the kill.

Anita would soon owe me more than first class accommodations.

* * *

Shit. Double shit.

Evidently, I’d been too intoxicated from one too many glasses of champagne in first class or too exhausted to set the alarm on my phone correctly. Or maybe the time difference had thrown me off. Whatever the case, I was running late, furious with myself.

The last few days had been a whirlwind, almost missing my flight.

I’d gotten in late enough from the airport I’d yet to indulge in taking much time in soothing my senses in my incredible surroundings. I’d seen pictures and glossy brochures of some of the world’s most fabulous hotels in my former position, but the Tempest Grand was utterly amazing.

It held old world Mediterranean charm with arched floor-to-ceiling windows throughout, and ornate columns everywhere. Gothic stone fireplaces created warmth and ambience while walls painted in rich camel and carved wooden pieces added to the opulence.

The grand foyer was a breathtaking study in coastal affluence, even though the ocean was miles away. Sunlight poured through towering arched windows, catching the dust motes dancing over the cool ivory marble floors. Billowing, sheer white curtains framed breathtaking views of the pristine landscape while the deep azure of the velvet chaise lounges echoed the horizon. Overhead, a wrought-iron chandelier cast a warm, golden glow across walls adorned with vibrant, hand-painted Majolica tiles, instantly lulling every guest into a state of sun-drenched tranquility.

I sounded like a brochure for a marketing campaign. Oh, I could kill my ex.

Fresh flowers provided intense, seductive scents. Everywhere I looked was a wow factor. No wonder Anita had been embroiled in a panic attack.

My suite was fit for a king and the bathroom was to die for. Coming out of the elevator, I’d captured a glimpse of the pool nestled amongst lush green foliage with the mountains as a backdrop and longed to be nothing but a guest.

There were separate cabanas, a swim-up bar and hundreds of lounge chairs just begging to be used for relaxation. And the dining room and several bars I’d seen? Holy smokes.

All of the gorgeous amenities aside, I’d consider the hotel a failure if they hadn’t added a Starbucks. This girl needed far more coffee than was provided in her suite.

The time for sightseeing was over for now.

Thankfully with it being barely six in the morning, there were few guests awake and milling around downstairs. Everything was supposed to be set, the ballroom and auxiliary rooms ready and waiting. This was check-in and set-up day for the authors and some readers along with a few afternoon activities. If I’d had my druthers, I would have gotten in a day earlier, but I’d had to scramble to get my act and fledging business together.

There had to be something on my table to show the world I was ready to take them by storm.

I had one hour to myself to check things over before the mayhem began and planned on using every minute wisely.

As I flew into the small Starbucks, I took a deep whiff. There was nothing like the scent of coffee first thing in the morning.

“Welcome to the Tempest Grand,” the girl behind the counter said in the most welcoming voice. She was far more chipper than I remembered the barista at my local coffee shop having been. Maybe she was influenced by her luxurious surroundings.

“Thank you. Can I have a very tall Venti blond roast?”

“A working girl. Absolutely. Are you here for the charity event or the romance convention?”

I laughed. “Guess.”

“You have an aura of wealth, eager in anticipation of providing donations to aid children all across the world.”