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But she wasn’t sure she could keep it going. But how could she leave? Every day she spent here had her falling in love a little more with the island—with the slower paced life and the sun and the surf. She even loved the parade of guests that came through. But maybe she wasn’t cut out for this kind of life.
The tears started again. She sniffed them back and straightened her shoulders. She had work to do. Moping around wasn’t going to get anything done. Hearing someone call her name, she followed the sound back to the shed behind the outdoor bar.
Mike stood with his back to her, his hands smudged with dark grease. He wiped his hands on a rag and glanced at. He looked away and back, and his frown deepened. “Have you been crying?”
She sniffed. “Allergies.”
He shook his head but turned back to the generator. “You’re right. You need some parts. But I might be able to get this hunk of junk working. Is there an auto supply store or a garage on the island?”
Karen leaned on the door frame. “Now you’ve got to be kidding. This is a resort—meaning we’re all about pleasure and leisure. Anything else has to be shipped in.”
Turning, he stared at her. “Okay, what about a boat yard. You have to at least have that.”
She nodded. “Yeah, we’ve got a small place a couple of miles from here.” She stared at him, tilted her head to the side. “I thought you were some kind of business guy?”
With a grin he turned to her. “Does that mean I can’t fix things? Look, I get what you’re trying to do here. You’ve got a great location—really good potential. My brother and I started out about the same. Lots of ambition and plans, and then we worked our tails off.” Mike glanced at the generator. “And, yeah, I’ve spent more time in corporate board rooms than I have repairing junk like this, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t have to rebuild my own first car from the ground up. Besides, the sooner I get your place up and running, the sooner I can get hold of someone at my firm and get my life back.”
She pushed off the door frame. “Meaning you can get back to first class room service? Fine. Works for me. Before you walk down to the boat yard, you can help me finish the cleanup outside.”
Turning, she headed for the gardening shed on the opposite side of the hotel. Behind her she heard a weak, “Walk?” Mike added a few more colorful swearwords. With a smile, she turned and called out, “Oh, I left you some better shorts and a top in the kitchen.”
Chapter Five
She spent the morning cleaning. Everything. She couldn’t afford a maid, so she did the rooms herself, changing sheets, getting the laundry in, putting up fresh towels. She left fruit and fresh flowers in each room. It was a good thing she only had four rooms occupied, but the truth was if she had the hotel filled, she’d be able to pay for help. Trouble was, she was caught between a skinny chicken and a not so fresh egg—she needed paying guests to be able to afford the advertizing to get more guests coming so she could hire staff and make this a first-class hotel again. She also needed these damn storms to lighten up for a time.
Trudging to the laundry room with her arms full of dirty linen, Karen let out a long breath and decided that what she needed most was lunch. She’d only had coffee this morning. Guests would be on their own for lunch today, but she might be able to manage a meal for them this evening. Anything to make them love their stay—because no one would be leaving for a couple of weeks unless they wanted to pay for the cost of a chartered flight back to Fiji.
Heading down the hall to the kitchen she smelled something spicy and heard bubbling. Her stomach rumbled.
Mike glanced up from the stove and smiled. “Seems I’m not the only one starving.”
He’d put on the shorts and shirt she’d left for him. His hair was wet as if he’d just showered. He was also barefoot—and had sinfully beautiful feet. Long and narrow with high arches, and those tan legs of his. Where did a business guy like him get off with a tan all over?
She leaned one hip against the counter. “This cooking thing of yours is getting to be a habit.”
He smiled at her. “You had a chicken in the fridge, so I made parmesan chicken. Any way to get some ice in here to keep the rest of it from spoiling?”
Turning, she put some plates on the table. “We might get some ice from Doobie’s—that’s the boat shop.” Heading to the stove, she leaned over the chicken. “Smells great.”
“Thanks to you, I now have five dishes I know how to make.” Mike nodded to the back door. “Let’s eat outside.”
She stared at him. “On what? The umbrellas and furniture went into storage as soon as we heard the storm was coming—which reminds me, I’ve got to get it out again.”
“Already there,” Mike said and pushed out the back door.
Outside she saw he’d set up one of the palm umbrellas with its metal table and chairs. Eyes narrowing, she stared at him. “You don’t waste time, do you?”
He shrugged. “Best I could do for now. I found a bottle of wine—not yours. It was part of the trash dumped on the beach. The god of the sea giveth as well as taketh away. I think it might be off the ferry, so I’m hoping my luggage will wash ashore.”
“Don’t hold your breath on that. Dakuwaqa is notoriously fickle.”
“Daku-who?”
“Don’t make fun of the guardian of the reef to Fiji. He’s pretty fierce and he can change himself into a shark. He protects all the islands.”
“Sounds like a nice guy I don’t want to meet.” He dished out the chicken and poured the wine. “I couldn’t find any noodles or potatoes.”
“I keep a bag of rice in the pantry. Noodles just go limp on you this close to the beach. Potatoes cost a fortune, and forget crackers.” She took a bite and gave a soft moan. “This is amazing. Anyone tell you that you could open a restaurant?”
