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And that was what she chose to concentrate on. Getting the Tropicana back. Salvaging the old reputation at the same time she forged ahead with establishing another—a first-class spa facility with luxury tent accommodation.
Who needed nights and nights of endless sex and passion?
She put Luke and what could have been in a special place to pull out and look at again another day in the future.
Maybe when it had stopped hurting so damn much.
* * *
The weeks blended into months and the resort exceeded Claudia’s expectations, achieving a seventy per cent occupancy over the winter season. Everyone was busy and it was good to have a cash flow again. They were able to re-establish a lot of activities—lei threading, bush-tucker tours, beachcomber collaging, shell jewellery and ballroom dancing were all added to the programme along with the Saturday night luau. Several regular themed nights—pirate, medieval and mermaids—were held in the dining room with food and entertainment to match, and proved popular with the families.
But the biggest change was the building of the day spa, which they’d decided to call Tropicana Retreat. Thanks to government and tourist-industry pressure on banks, councils and insurance companies, everything had gone through without a hitch and they were able to get the build started within two months.
Claudia had hired a local building company who were surprisingly available given how much of the area needed rebuilding. But so much couldn’t be done yet, not until insurance money had come through, so the company had jumped at the chance to create something special at the Tropicana.
Once the work started it took hardly any time to build. It was just a simple rectangular plan with a large open reception area that flowed into a salon area where manicures, pedicures and facials were done. Beyond that were four rooms for massage treatments and another room where a state-of-the-art Vichy shower was installed allowing them to do scrubs and all kinds of body wraps.
The fit-out took longer with Avery and Claudia poring over every single tile, pedicure chair, paint colour and blind-fabric swatch. Claudia was pleased to have Avery and her eye for the exquisite and happy to leave her to it once the big decisions had been made, freeing her up to tackle the hiring of staff.
Luke took on the task of managing the luxury tent accommodation, which, again, wasn’t a huge construction job. The wooden platforms were simple and sourcing the right fabric for the tent-like shelter wasn’t as difficult as he’d thought. The largest part of the build was the attached luxury bathroom facilities.
Nobody paid a few hundred dollars a night to sleep in a tent to have to go walkabout for a bathroom in the middle of the dark so it was important that they catered for that.
The biggest issue and the one that caused the most debate was deciding where each of the six tents would ultimately be located on the grounds. They had an enlarged aerial photograph of the grounds as they were now, post cyclone, that Jonah had taken from the chopper, and they used monopoly houses for the tent sites, which they moved around and around trying to choose the best positions.
It was exciting to watch everything come together. Claudia felt a renewed sense of pride and vigour in the Tropicana as her dreams slowly became reality.
And if there were times where things were a little tense between her and Luke or she caught him looking at her with such abject hunger she wanted to rip all his clothes off, then knowing they were creating something amazing together, that they were reshaping this wonderful legacy of theirs, helped to temper those times.
They were both doing the right thing with a relationship that was never going to go anywhere so pouring all their sexual energy into the Tropicana made sense.
Indulging would be easy. But the consequences would be hard.
It was better this way.
* * *
Two weeks out from the official launch of the Tropicana Retreat, Luke sat at his desk at eleven o’clock at night staring at the email recalling him, in no uncertain terms, to London. The multimillion-dollar account he’d been working on for months was ready to go and the company CEO in question wanted Luke there to do the presentation.
Only Luke.
It was his chance to redeem himself and restore his reputation. And he wanted it.
He needed it.
It wasn’t as if he were needed here any more with the bulk of the new project complete. Claudia could handle it from now on in. Hell, she’d always been able to handle it.
Damn their interfering parents.
What he couldn’t handle for too much longer was keeping his hands off her.
Another good reason to get the hell out of Dodge.
She swanned around in that awful uniform that was fast becoming the sexiest piece of polyester in the world, being all chirpy and pleasant and efficient, and all he wanted to do was drag her down behind that reception desk, demand that she open her legs and say, ‘Yes sir,’ to him, the way she said it to guests.
