A Gentleman's Affair (17 page)

“Christ, Scarlett. Why didn’t you mention
this to me last night?” Great! Now I am the reason for her falling
off of her wagon.

“Donovan, I wasn’t a full blown alcoholic or
anything. I never had to drink. But when I did, well…as you saw, I
act like an idiot.”

“You were not an idiot at all last night.
Not in any way, alright?” I try my best to convince her, my face
serious yet reassuring.

“See, that’s the thing…I never remember past
a certain point. I sort of black out,” she admits freely, yet I can
see the struggle in her eyes to do so.

“I see.” I nod as I fully dissect her
confession. “Well, I appreciate your honesty, but your past is
really none of my business. Everyone has a few secrets.” I
certainly do…

“I know, but I just wanted you to know,
that’s all.” She forces a slight smile.

She finishes up her second piece of toast,
and the color in her face begins to return. Cassidy sets down my
plate piled high with scrambled eggs, potatoes, bacon and biscuits
with gravy. Drinking gives me an appetite, clearly. I dig right in,
and Scarlett makes a face at my plate.

“Scrambled eggs?” she asks. “I’m sorry, but
that’s the last thing you should eat after drinking,” she
laughs.

“What is wrong with scrambled? How do you
take your eggs?” I reply, holding a large forkful of eggs close to
her face, laughing as she squirms at the sight of them.

“Stop, I’m going to throw up,” she laughs as
she helps herself to my potatoes.

“Well, I see that not only has your sarcasm
returned so has your appetite.” Winking, I scoop some of my
potatoes onto her small plate.

“Mmm…” She smiles wide as she practically
inhales them.

“Can I get you a real breakfast now?” I ask,
laughing.

“Mmm…” she nods.

“Alright,” I laugh. Excuse me, but I have to
say this again…she is adorable. “What would you like?”

“Pancakes,” she says, lighting up, all the
color returning to her beautiful face.

“Pancakes, it is.” I wink at Scarlett, then
call over Cassidy and order her a short stack. “Tell them to get
that right out, will you?” I add.

“Donovan, may I ask you a personal
question?”

“Of course.”

And sarcastic Scarlett just went back to
serious Scarlett in .0002 seconds. 

“Why are you single? I mean, you seem like
such a good guy…” She smiles in that forgive-me-for-being-so-nosy
kind of way.

“Fuck if I know, Scarlett,” I laugh, then
continue, “honestly, I want more now. ‘Back in the day’ I wanted a
hot body and a pretty face. But things have changed, and I have
become rather picky these days.” I shrug my shoulders, wondering if
that was too much.

But, she did ask…and just because “back in
the day” actually ended just a few months ago, well, that doesn’t
make me any less serious about finding “the one”.

“I have to admit, I did peg you as a
“playboy” Donovan. I mean, look at this hotel, not to mention Pisa.
You are charming and handsome…you are the ultimate playboy. You
could have any girl you want.” She looks down, and her cheeks
suddenly turn a light shade of pink.

Cassidy arrives with her pancakes and not a
moment too soon. Saved by the pancakes… phew.

“No comment,” I say with a smirk. “Eat your
pancakes.” 

“I’m eating,” she laughs, then smothers her
pancakes with syrup.

“So, tell me why it is that you are single,
Scarlett.” Two can play at this game.

“I don’t know. Probably because men are
stupid.” She says with a wink.

“That we are,” I laugh, nodding in
agreement. “That we are…”

“Thank you for making me come with you. I
feel so much better now.” And her plate is clean almost as fast as
it was set down before her.

“Good, I’m glad.” I finish my last sip of
coffee, watching her closely as she touches up her lipstick. Her
lips are so full and deliciously inviting. I love that she has no
idea just how incredibly sexy she is.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the
day?” I ask, wondering if, in fact, that was an invitation to spend
it together.

“Donovan, I live an exciting life. Sunday is
laundry day,” she replies with a giggle.

“Living on the edge, Scarlett?” I laugh as
we both stand up, knowing that our breakfast date has come to an
end. I drop a twenty on the table for Cassidy, and we leave the
restaurant.

“Thank you, again…for everything, Donovan.”
She flashes a sweet smile my way as we walk towards the entrance of
the hotel.

“It was my pleasure, Scarlett. We will speak
tomorrow.” I smile back at her as I push open the large glass door.
She walks out and turns back with a last parting comment.

“Most definitely.” And with a wink, she is
off.

To do laundry. But something tells me that
she will be thinking about me, hopefully, as much as I will be
thinking about her and how fucking adorable she is.

Chapter Seventeen

~Floored, in more ways than one~

Mondays. We all hate them, but they come
four, sometimes five times a month. The past few months, Mondays
have been like the sequel to Groundhog Day. The usual uneventful
weekend, followed by work. Don’t get me wrong, I love my work. But
fuck if I don’t desperately need a social life again…and soon.

A few months ago, I would wake up most
mornings, Mondays included, to a hot random girl, or two, in my
bed. Since swearing off the playboy lifestyle, my bedroom has been
a virtual ghost town. The sound of crickets now replaces the sound
of moans and screams of ecstasy. My bed is a sad, sad place these
days.

Time for a change, I do believe.

So, Monday begins with a bang. And not the
kind that I like. Patrice interrupts my breakfast with one of her
911 phone calls. But this time it is an actual emergency…a mild
one, but an emergency all the same.

Lily and Christopher’s honeymoon has been
cut short, due to Lily breaking her arm during a hike. It seems
that she got into a fight with a mountain, and the mountain won.
They were due back in three days anyway, but with her now injured
and unable to work for a few weeks, we are short a chef. My
sous-chef has been pulling double shifts while Lily was away, but
he can’t do that alone for much longer.

I send Lily a quick text to not only wish
her well, but to give her shit for being such a klutz. Already
showered, I do a quick change into my Fitzgerald Saxxon suit and
head downstairs to calm Patrice down.

I walk into the reception area to find
Patrice flipping through the Rolodex with fury. I find it hilarious
that she still goes by that old thing. That was Dad’s, and for some
reason she likes the “personal” feel of it. I stopped trying to
figure out that woman years ago.

“I see that you have blown the dust off of
that old thing, again,” I chuckle, as she flashes a look of
irritation at me.

“Hardy-har-har, Mr. Hart. Would you take
this seriously, please?” She fishes out a card and asks, “Should I
give this place a call?” She flips the card around so that I can
read it.

“Monroe Temp Agency? Sure, knock yourself
out, Patrice. I am going to check my emails, so I will be in my
office if you need me.” I walk into my office and close the door.
Patrice will know that something is up with me. I never close my
door. I sit down behind my desk and call Scarlett.

“Hello?” Ahh, there it is, that sweet
voice.

“Good morning, Scarlett. How is your head
today?” I ask, teasing her, hoping to hear her giggle.

“Just fine, thank you for asking,” she
giggles. “How are you this morning?”

“Never better, actually,” I lie. Well, not a
complete lie. Aside from the small Lily emergency, I have never
felt better. At least, not in a long while.

“Good, so continuing our search for
draperies won’t darken your mood?” Another giggle. Nice.

“About that… we have a small emergency here,
so will it be alright if we do that here and shop on the web? I
just hate to leave Patrice until we have this situation figured
out.”

“That’s not a problem. I can be there in
about an hour…” she responds.

“Perfect. See you then, Scarlett.” I hang up
and walk back out to the reception area to see if Patrice has had
any luck.

“Well?” I ask, hoping to hear good news.

“No chefs at the agency right now,” she
huffs. “Any thoughts, Einstein?”

“Possibly. Why don’t you call the chef that
we had before Lily. What was his name? Ronnie?”

“Robbie?” she laughs, happy to correct me,
I’m sure.

“That’s it. Call him. Tell him that I will
double his salary if he is available.”

“Right away, sir,” she bites back, as she
flips through her trusty Rolodex again.

“When you are through with that, will you
have some sandwiches sent to my office? Scarlett is on her way
here, and we will be working through lunch…and someone interrupted
my breakfast.” I give her a wink and go back into my office.

“Right away, sir!” she shouts, in her
snarkiest tone ever.

I see that I have a text from Lily,
apologizing profusely for being such a klutz. I return her text
with, “Yes, you are, but we still love you. Have a safe flight and
hurry up and heal that arm. You are irreplaceable, it seems.” I
press send and switch on my computer.

I try to get a jump-start on this drapery
situation, looking at all of the samples in the emails that
Scarlett sent last week, but they all look the same to me. Don’t
get me wrong, I care very much how the hotel looks, but again, this
is not my forté. I decide to wait for her to get here to make any
decisions.

I respond to a few emails, watching the
clock like an idiot. My favorite investor, Mike, has emailed an
update regarding Pisa. Good news. The hotel is now topped out, and
they are onto the exterior stone façade of the hotel. Mike and I
email back and forth a few time over the details of the “topping
out party” for the crew, choosing a date, menu, etc. I forward
Patrice the details so that she can book my flight and set up a
caterer. I only wish that my mom was here to see this. She would be
proud.

Scarlett interrupts my wandering mind with a
soft knock on my door. I look up and see her standing there, a
vision in a curve-hugging light blue dress and black heels. I will
call this look, “sexy professional”. She always looks incredible.
But I digress. Time to stop staring.

“Come in.” I grin at her as I stand, walking
over to greet her with a handshake. More like a quick hand-holding
session. Clearly we are past formalities, but I wanted to touch
her, and for that, I make no apologies. Sue me.

“I like your suit. Very nice, Donovan.” She
smiles as she sets down her briefcase. 

“Thank you,” I smile back, liking the fact
that she is obviously checking me out as well. “I took the liberty
of viewing the samples that you had emailed last week, and I have
to say…I don’t know the first thing about choosing drapes, anymore
than I did the furniture.” I pick up the chair that sits in front
of my desk and carry it around my desk, setting it next to my
chair.

“And that’s what you hired me for.” She
smiles and walks around to the chair, taking a seat. I sit down
beside her and open up her email.

“That is true.” I smile, pointing to one of
the photos on the screen. “So looking at all of these, I would have
to say that these are my favorites so far.” But what do I know?

“Hmm, how did that get in there? Those are
much too sheer, the sunlight will stream right through these.” She
takes over the mouse and scrolls down the page, pointing out a few
of the other choices. “This is what you need. These are called
blackout curtains. They will keep the sun out.”

“Alright, I do like those,” I smile,
sounding like the drapery novice that I am. Also, why are they
called “blackout” drapes, when in fact they are beige? This is why
I run the hotel.

“See, that wasn’t so hard,” she giggles.

Alright. I need to address this giggle of
hers. I have mentioned it many times, and giggling is usually best
left to eight-year-old girls with pig-tales. But let me tell you
that when Scarlett does it, it is something of an art form. It is
soft, sweet and rather sexy. Now that I have cleared that up, back
to shopping.

“Not at all. So we will use these in every
suite of the hotel?” I ask. “Correct?”

“Yes, all except for your penthouse.” She
scrolls down the page to show me the ones that she has chosen for
my place. “What do you think about these?”

“Those will work.” I guess? Can we just skip
to the part where I kiss you? As if no one saw that coming…

“Good. So we all that we have left is the
carpet. Did you still want hardwood for the lobby and restaurant?”
she asks, all the while taking notes.

“Yes. In here, as well,” I add, sounding
confident for a change.

“Right, you did tell me that.” She smiles,
jotting down more notes. “Are you ready to look at carpet
samples?”

“As ready as I will ever be.” I say with a
wink.

“This will be painless. I promise.” She
pulls two twelve inch by eight inch samples from her briefcase,
both of which have sixteen small squares of different colors and
textures of carpet attached to them. Alright let’s be honest, I
don’t see any difference here. This was my mom’s area of expertise.
I square my shoulders, take a deep breath and choose one of the
samples.

“You like that one?” she asks, shocked.

“Yes. Why? Am I wrong?” I laugh.

“No,” she laughs. “That one is my favorite.
I was hoping that you’d pick it, actually. Good choice.”

And before I can answer, Patrice comes in
with a small tray of sandwiches and fruit. She says “Hello” to
Scarlett, sets the tray on the desk, and excuses herself, allowing
us to continue.