Page 21 of Dark Time

“Oh. Thanks.” I felt heat bloom in my cheeks and looked down at the last bite of my pastry. I was pleased that he thought that.

“I’m going to get dressed, just casual stuff for now. We don’t even have furniture in the place yet, so there’s no need for anything more.”

“Great. I’ll join you then.” The bathroom had enough room to accommodate both of us, so we showered and dressed together, and managed to get through it without too many distractions. Although, before we left the house, he pinned me to the wall in the hallway and kissed me absolutely silly.

His tongue swirled around mine for a long moment as his hand went to my waist. I had on a pair of jeans and a long gray sweater with a pair of designer combat boots on my feet. A long gray scarf finished off the look, but instead of letting it warm my neck, he was pulling it off to wrap around my waist. When he pulled tightly to him with the scar, I moaned into his mouth.

Dylan, the bastard, pulled his mouth from mine, and I tried to follow, but he stood up straight, smirked that infuriatingly adorable smile of his, and ran his finger through his hair to straighten the mess my hands had made of it.

“Let’s get out of here before I take you back to the bedroom and remove that rather concealing sweater you have on.”

I was in a daze by the time he put my scarf around my neck and pulled me into the elevator. I swear, I heard him chuckle when he started the car, and I looked over to give him a glare, but his face was clear of any kind of chuckling activity.

“You know you make my brain go dead when you kiss me like that,” I complained at him, and he chuckled out loud.

“Of course, I know that. Why else would I do it?”

My muttered response was drowned out by the sound of the engine of the car as he pulled into traffic, and I let it all go with a contented smile. It wasn't like I was going to complain too hard about being kissed silly. It was a wonderful thing.

Dylan drove us toward the beachfront, and I was surprised when he pulled into the parking garage. My family’s resort wasn’t far from this one, and I’d heard Trent say more than once that he’d like to acquire it, but the owner refused all of his offers. I wondered how Dylan had managed it but didn’t ask. It was none of my business.

“This, my lovely, will be the newest version of Pebbles, my own brand of resorts.” He guided me into another elevator that soon opened into the lobby. “There are seven floors of rooms, four penthouse suites, one of which will be ours, and a few rooms that we will use for staff quarters, should the need arise.”

He guided me into the reception area, and I could see workers had already gutted most of the furnishings and the carpets. Cement and drywall waited to be painted or covered by paneling. The reception was located at the rear of the building, opposite the beachfront side. That made it convenient to the parking garage, but I wondered if a separate office would be useful on the side that faced the beach.

“There is space for a bar inside, an infinity pool, which so many families want now, a bar at the back, and two restaurants.” I watched him, this normally confident man who now seemed uncertain, nervous even.

“It’s a good place to start. Definitely a good place to start. It’s in a good location; you’re on the beach. How many pools are there?” I was thinking about possibilities, and already my brain had returned to the old days of maintaining a resort from the back end, the part that none of my brothers had ever wanted to deal with.

“There are three pools and several hot tubs. We have plenty of water activities. I’m planning to put a full gym in, one of the bars will probably end up an Internet café type of area, and I have other ideas.” His words trailed off as his thoughts spun out to the future.

I could see what he wanted, a place where the guests never had to leave and families could spend their days together. “Have you thought about shuttle services, for those who want to see the sites?”

“I have, and I’m scouting a fleet now. I’ve also got someone working on how many staff we’ll need. Most of that is coming from my dad’s resorts. I’ll be able to put a lot of the practices from there into place here. I’ll pull in some of my staff from California for a little while until the staff here is trained properly. It’s a huge task, but I think it’s manageable.”

“You can do it, Dylan. I know you can.” I walked around the bare space and wondered at the possibilities. I didn’t want to butt in and give too many opinions.

Dylan was as deep into hotel management as I was, and he didn’t need my two cents to add into the pot of advice I was sure he was already getting. I walked around and couldn’t help but add in my own touches. I’d put a plant there, to hide the odd corner, and a chair in case someone wanted a corner to sit in if lines got long at reception.

In fact, I’d put a couch or two in here, and a table for a laptop and drinks that always came with large crowds. I couldn’t help but start to problem-solve for Dylan the same as I’d done in my family’s hotels around the world.

“I can’t believe I’ve spent so much time in hotels,” I said with a laugh. I’d told Dylan about my childhood, and then the adult years, so many endless days in hotels, dealing with problems. When my brothers were old enough to cause problems, I was called in a lot of the time to deal with it until my father got back.

Even as a teenager, I was the one who made decisions about what was to be done, how to control the damage. I’d been a problem-solver my entire life it would seem. I could do that for Dylan too.

I brushed the thought away as nonsense. Dylan has just said he was bringing staff in from his other resorts. He didn’t need me one bit.

He took me through the rest of the hotel and then we went home to have some lunch. Dylan had a meeting with a designer, but he told me he’d be back around five to take me to dinner. He’d been so nervous and almost twitchy that I’d been worried about him.

When he returned, I met him in the parking garage. He seemed calmer, if somewhat quiet. It wasn’t long before we arrived at one of our favorite restaurants and had placed our orders.

“Emily, I have an offer for you,” Dylan said from his seat across the table.

We always had the same table, in a private nook of the dining area, away from prying eyes. I was distracted, my mind on whether or not I should run my foot up his thigh, when he made his announcement.

My head tilted as I grew curious. “What’s that, Dylan? You want me to crawl under the tablecloth and open your zipper for you?”

It never failed to amaze me how aroused I always was around him. I was only half-teasing. The thought of doing just what I’d said made me flush, and something odd happened to my breathing.