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Heading back to the kitchen she found Mike washing dishes. She just about fell over. He glanced at her, a dish towel over his shoulder. “What is it now?” he asked.
Numb, she shook her head. “Nothing. Just not used to guys who clean up after themselves.”
He waved at the table. “Sit. Eat. I’ll do my impression of a Jewish mother and tell you that you need some meat on your bones.”
She glanced down at herself. “What’s wrong with my meat or my bones?”
He grinned. “Not much. Hungry?” Wiping his hands, he sat at the table. He’d served up two bowls that still steamed, scenting the air with oregano and other spices.
The man himself looked good enough to eat. The coveralls did everything to show off lean, muscular perfection.
Sitting at the table, he dug into the soup and asked, “So how long is this big blow going to last?”
She shrugged and tasted the soup. Flavors exploded in her mouth. She had to resist the urge to give a moan. “Why—you worried about missing a football game?”
He grinned. “There was a time football was just that big a deal for me.”
“Don’t tell me—star quarterback in high school, right? Complete with the cheerleaders hanging onto you.”
“It was college and I was heading for the big league. And then…” He let the words trail off and shrugged. “Life changes. And I blew out my knee.”
She stared at him. “You telling me this to get out of work?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t take a knee to swing a hammer. But I tell you—I do miss the game. Nothing as good as competing, putting your body on the line. The noise.”
“The girls?” She tipped her head to the side. “Sounds to me like you just figured out you’re getting older.”
He gave her that easy smile, the one that lit up his eyes and warmed her from the inside out. “Older and better. Big brother just got married, and he’s finally…finally let loose the reins of our company. As for girls…honey, it’s just me and my dog. Of course, Zach has my dog out at the ranch and—”
“Ranch? What—like in cattle?”
“Think more dude ranch and a place for kids to get out of the city and away from gangs. My sister-in-law’s running most of that show.”
She propped her elbows on the table and sipped her wine. The roof rattled, but she could hear the wind dying down. “Why are you out here, Mr. New York? You didn’t look dressed for a vacation.”
He grimaced. “Business, ma’am. And I could swear the weather reports said this storm was going to cut north and miss these islands.” He glanced up. “At least it sounds like it’s settling down.”
Finishing her wine, she picked up their empty soup bowls. “That’s what you get for trusting the weather service. As for settling—we now get the other side of it.”
He stared at her. “It’s a damn hurricane?”
She smiled. “No, they get hurricanes in the Caribbean. In the Pacific it’s a cyclone or a tropical storm. And, yeah, we’re going to get to set up and keep an eye on the place.”
“Oh, joy,” he muttered.
She made coffee. The Nessers didn’t answer the knock on their door—as expected. Juliet took the coffee and offered back a bright smile, and Ted now looked a little green. She advised him to take something to help him sleep, assured him the hotel had survived far worse storms, and headed back to the kitchen.
She found Mike with his feet up on the table and coffee in his hands. “Do we take turns taking watch or just sit up all night?”
Pulling up a chair next to his, she shrugged. “You’re welcome to get some sleep. I’m staying up.”
With a nod, he rose, lifted his coffee and said, “See you in the morning, boss.”
Without Mike around, the kitchen seemed colder—far more empty than it should. He’d filled up with room, and she had to admit it was easier to ride out the storm with someone else. She listened to the hotel groan, the boards sounding like the nails were pulling out and a distant banging of debris hitting something. The winds seemed stronger and for a minute she wondered if the place was going to make it. She heard the tearing of wood, and one of the boards ripped off the back window. “Dammit,” she muttered.
She was smart enough not to go out in that storm alone. Her parents had—or her father had and he’d been swept away. Her mom had unwisely gone after him. She wasn’t taking those kinds of risks. Heading to Mike’s room with a lamp, she knocked on his door. He didn’t answer, so she opened the door and shouted, “Hey, handyman. Could use a hand here!”
Covers rustled. She lifted the lamp.
