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Raymond stopped in front of the new kitchens and started detailing their attributes with as much enthusiasm as a tortoise sunning himself on a rock. “So,” he summed up in that all-the-time-in-the-world West Indies drawl of his. “Impressive, isn’t it?”
Quinn stuck her hands on her hips. “Not at the moment, no,” she said sharply. “But it will be.”
Raymond paled. “I thought you would be pleased with what we’ve done.”
“I’m not exactly sure which part of this disaster you’re referring to,” she responded curtly. “We’ll deal with it later. Right now let’s review the menus so we can discuss them over lunch. That’s what Matteo and Daniel really need to see.”
They sat on the poolside terrace while Le Belle Bleu’s head chef took them through the new menus he’d designed. By the end of his presentation, Matteo was convinced the lineup showed such an abject lack of creativity it wasn’t even appropriate for a three-star hotel, let alone Luxe.
“Where is the seafood?” Quinn asked, jamming a hand on the table as if to physically restrain herself. “St. Lucia is a Caribbean island. People expect seafood.”
The chef pointed to the entrées. “There are two fish dishes here.”
“Two out of twelve?”
“W-we thought it was sufficient.... We have an international clientele.”
“Who don’t eat appetizers?”
“Well, there is some crab in this one...”
Quinn dropped her head in her hands.
“Quinn?” Raymond’s placid tone was filled with apprehension. “Any other comments?”
“Yes,” she snapped. “But since it’s way past time for lunch, let’s do it over that.”
She sliced a look at Matteo and Daniel. “Consider this a work in progress.”
They ate by the sea. When Quinn attempted to sit on the other side of the table from him, Matteo deftly presented the chair beside him with a gallant flourish.
“The view is much better here.”
“I thought,” she stated evenly, “I would save it for you and Daniel since I’ll have more of a chance to enjoy it than you will.”
“Oh, no,” Daniel said hastily, clearly recognizing he was running this race a few too many steps behind, “the lady should have the best view, always.”
Matteo’s lips twisted as Quinn sat down. “I’m not sure ‘lady’ is the best description for you today,” he murmured in her ear as he pushed her chair in.
She gave him a glare that would have felled a lesser man. “You’re not giving the man a chance to breathe,” he counseled quietly, sitting down beside her. “I would have thought Warren taught you allies make better bedfellows.”
Her shoulders dropped. “He won’t last long enough to become an ally,” she muttered icily.
Matteo’s return glance was reproving. “You need to take a deep breath.”
She did. Lord knew she did. But she didn’t need to hear that coming from him right now. “Don’t think,” she said in a deadly quiet voice, pretending to point out a particularly good bread in the basket for the other’s benefit, “that last night gives you the right to cross the line with me.”
He took a piece of cornbread. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured. “But we do have to talk about it. Have a drink with me before dinner.”
She stared mutinously at him. The last thing she wanted to do, given her mood, was talk about last night. But she was pretty sure it couldn’t be avoided.
She nodded. “One drink.”
* * *
Matteo was waiting for her in the cliffside bar when she arrived, seated at a table near the sheer drop to the sea. Cool and elegant in black pants and a lavender shirt that only a man with the highest degree of self-confidence would wear, he made drool pool in her mouth.
He stood and held out her chair. “I ordered you a glass of the Riesling.”
Her favorite in the heat. His powers of observation were incomparable. As they had been this afternoon, noticing everything she had not. Like some superhero with X-ray vision.
“Thank you,” she murmured, sliding into the leather seat. “We’re due to meet the others in a half hour.”
He lowered himself gracefully into the seat opposite her. “I’ll get straight to the point then.”
Her head throbbed anew, despite the two painkillers she’d ingested. “Last night was an aberration,” she pronounced sharply. “A one-time thing. Never to be repeated. Can we leave it at that?”
“We should.” His mouth flattened into a straight line. “It would be disastrous for both of us for this to go anywhere.”
She let out a sigh of relief. So good they agreed on that.
“I wanted to say thank you, however.”
His huskily issued words made her heart skip a beat. “For what?”
He raked a hand through his close-cropped hair, and lifted his gaze to hers. “I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t come to me last night. I was in a dark, dark place.”
The vulnerable gleam in his eyes, the tense set of his big body made the urge to slide her hand over his monumental. But she kept it glued to the table because this could not go there. It couldn’t.
She swallowed hard. “I needed to exorcise my own demons.”
“He’s a jackass, Quinn.” His harshly issued words caught her off guard. “I don’t know what your husband did to you. I don’t know what he said to make you feel like any less of the woman you are. But a man who would walk away from the woman I held in my arms last night is crazy.”
Her heart went into free fall. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s a travesty.”
They sat there in silence because to say any more would be going to a place neither of them could venture. Matteo took a long pull of his beer, set it down and gave her a steady look. “Le Belle Bleu will never pass its inspection, Quinn. You have a seriously big problem on your hands.”
She exhaled deeply. “I know. But I’m not sure what to do. Raymond swears he has the best contractor on the island.”
“And today convinced you of that?”
What alternatives were there? Warren had asked her to handle it, but she was no construction expert. And she didn’t know the local business climate.
Matteo reached into his pants pocket, pulled out a business card and slid it across the table to her. “We’ve used this company to build some of our American restaurants. They have an impeccable track record and a presence here. I made a phone call this afternoon to them and they’re willing to come take a look.”
“In the next hundred years?” She pressed her hands to her temples. “I have an opening in two weeks. We need to at least have the kitchen in some sort of safe, working order. The rest we can do in phases.”
“If they agree to take on the job, they would do the urgent items right away. If they agree to take it on,” he underscored. “Because of De Campo’s relationship with them, I think we have some leverage. They’ve offered to come look at the hotel next week.”
“Really?”
He nodded. “If you like, I will stay and do the walk-through with you.”
Her lips formed the words yes, please. She needed his contact because no one else was calling her back. She was terrified Le Belle Bleu wasn’t going to open on time. But she was also clear on why Matteo was doing this. The closer he inserted himself into Luxe’s operations, the harder it would be for her not to choose De Campo.
It was also so not her style to accept help and Lord knew, the Quinn of last night was a terrifying, alien creature not helped by Matteo’s continued presence on this island. However, the panic raking its way up her throat was all-consuming. The hotel was a disaster.
“They will not screw you over, Quinn.” Matteo gave her an even look. “I know these guys. If anyone can fix this, they can.”
“All right.” She nodded. “But you need to understand, this will in no way help you in the bid process.”
He nodded and stood abruptly, his expression hardening into one that was all business. “Let me see if I can get them before dinner.”
Matteo strode off in the direction of his suite. Quinn wondered why her heart was now somewhere in the vicinity of her toes.
He was going to help her, wasn’t he? Help her drag Le Belle Bleu out of the mess it was in before her hotel chain’s reputation went into the toilet? This was no time to pine for him to acknowledge how amazing their night together had been.
Her grip around her wineglass tightened. Oh, my God. That’s exactly what she’d wanted him to do. She’d been expecting him to rehash last night, when all he’d wanted to do was help her relaunch her hotel, and, in doing so, ingratiate himself even more to Davis Investments.
Where in all this had she become that creature?
