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A sudden surge of anger burned white-hot in Claudia’s chest. Partnership decisions? What the hell? Did he think she’d be too distraught to not understand the true meaning behind such a casual announcement?
She drew herself up to her full five feet one inch, and jammed a hand on her hip. ‘You think you have the right to waltz in here—’
Claudia broke off as a pressure—rage and something more primitive—built in her sinuses and behind her eyes. It threatened to explode and robbed her momentarily of the ability to form a coherent sentence.
‘To just...sweep in when everything is such a bloody mess...and think you have a right to any decisions? You forfeited any rights when you walked away from the Tropicana last year.’
Luke tried to stay calm in the face of her anger. But Claudia always had driven him more nuts than any woman in the history of the world. She’d always been a firecracker where the resort was concerned, her petite, perennially cheerful disposition slipping quickly to growly Mummy bear when her precious Tropicana was threatened.
He kept his hands firmly buried in his pockets lest he succumb to the urge to shake her. Part of the reason she was in this mess was because she’d refused to listen to reason. If they’d gone the way he’d wanted to go with the resort they’d have been making money hand over fist as part of a bigger chain and therefore sheltered financially from such a monumental disaster.
But no. Claudia had wanted to keep the resort completely independent. Run it the way their parents had in some grand vision of yesteryear.
And he’d been too busy dealing with the disarray left by his ex, both personally and career-wise, to really care. But this mess was going to require some big decisions.
‘Well, actually, that’s not entirely true, is it?’
Claudia knew exactly what he was alluding to and hated that he was right. Hated it. But his name was still on the partnership agreement their parents had made them sign and he did have equal say—he just hadn’t been interested in claiming it before today.
Claudia sighed, feeling utterly defeated all of a sudden. ‘Look, I get it, you’re here out of some misguided sense of responsibility. But you really don’t need to worry. Everything’s fine and dandy. Just go back to London. I can only deal with one Luke at a time.’
Luke was torn between picking her up and dumping her in the ocean and pulling her into his arms. ‘I’m staying. I have a week off. I can help with the clean-up.’
This time Claudia’s laugh did not border on anything—it had lapsed into full-blown hysteria.
‘A week?’ she demanded, her voice high and shaky. ‘Well, gee, Luke, thank you for sparing seven lousy days out of your busy and important life to help out poor old Claude.’
She shook her head in disgust at him, the urge to slam the clipboard down on his head riding her as hard as the threatening tears. She would not cry!
‘Take a look at this place,’ she demanded, flinging her arms wide to distract from the crack in her voice. ‘Do you think this is going to be cleaned up in a week?’
Luke looked. He doubted it would be cleaned up in a month. But he had a major account on the hook, one that would erase for ever the big one he’d lost because he’d foolishly trusted the woman he’d loved. He couldn’t afford to spend a lot of time away. Hell, he couldn’t even afford seven lousy days.
But he was here, wasn’t he?
‘Let’s just take it one day at a time,’ he suggested, holding onto his temper.
Claudia glared at him. ‘Don’t patronise me. I have an entire army of people ready, willing and able to help me clean up when we get the all-clear. We don’t need someone whose heart isn’t in it and who doesn’t give a damn about the Tropicana.’
Luke clenched his fists in his pockets. Just because he hadn’t chosen to slavishly devote himself to a forty-year-old white elephant, didn’t mean he didn’t care. He glared at her. ‘And I suppose walking around with that damn clipboard and wearing that God-awful Hawaiian shirt and those polyester capris proves your level of give a damn?’
Claudia gasped at his insult. The uniform had been around since the beginning—it was iconic, damn it! But it gave her something else to focus on other than the prickle inside her nose caused by building emotion. ‘I’m on duty,’ she snapped.
It was Luke’s turn to snort. ‘For what? There’s nobody here, Claude.’
Claudia held herself erect. ‘I’m never off duty.’
And that, as far as Luke was concerned, was one of her problems. She was twenty-seven years old and, apart from her brief sojourns overseas with Avery every couple of years, the resort had been her entire focus.
