When he pushed away from the chair and took two steps closer, she suddenly realized that his indolent grace was hiding a fury that he couldn’t altogether disguise. Fisting her fingers around the towel, she braced herself.
She immediately recognized his voice when he finally spoke and it indisputably confirmed his identity. “Is that why you got so pissed off all of a sudden? Refused to play nice with me on the phone? Something lead you to believe that Courtney’s my girlfriend?”
At his implication, a quiver of something ran down Maria’s spine that she immediately tamped down. Whether the other woman was his girlfriend or not was moot at this point. Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Maria. “I’m pissed about a lot of things,” she tossed back truthfully, attempting to ignore his anger and focus on her own.
“Yeah?” He took another imposing step closer. “What would those things be?”
Maria held her ground, refusing to step back. “Why would you care? You’re only here to get rid of me. I’m not stupid, I know what this sudden trip of yours is all about.” She tried to slow her heart rate by breathing deeply, but that idea was shot to shit when his eyes dropped to her breasts. And son-of-a-bitch, he had beautiful eyes.
His gaze slowly lifted back to hers. “Do you?” he asked in a voice that hinted she had no clue what he was thinking.
She ignored the hint and continued in a belligerent tone that had her questioning her sanity, “Yep. Your fragile little girlfriend wants me gone but was too scared to do it.”
“Just for the record, Courtney’s not my girlfriend, and she wasn’t afraid to get rid of you. The only reason you’re still employed at this hotel is because of me.” The displeasure in his tone turned to icy contempt. “And you’re either completely brave or completely stupid not to realize it.”
Son-of-a-bitch just call her stupid? “Oh, I’m not stupid. I just don’t need your job. I think eight years of my life’s been enough, you know?”
There was a momentary pause before he asked, “You’re saying you’ve been working here for eight years?”
“You should know that already, if you gave even half a shit about your employees.”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken, as if he had every right to her thoughts. “I want to know what’s got your panties in a twist. You used to be, shall we say, quite pleasant on the phone. But that went to hell in a heartbeat.”
She gave him a cool stare, unable to contain her sarcasm. “And that upset poor little you, right?”
A look came over his features that would have quelled a lesser woman, but her bravado was only faltered by a fraction. “Honey, I’m going to give you fair warning,” he bit out. “Tread lightly around me, capisce?”
She stiffened her spine until she felt as if a steel rod was imbedded in her vertebrae. “Or what?”
His eyes turned glacial and his mouth flattened as he hissed, “You want to find out?”
Asshole didn’t scare her. He didn’t. “The worst you can do is fire me.”
He bared his teeth as his features turned remote while he held her gaze captive. “That’d be letting you off too easy. And I promise you, nothing about this is going to be easy for you.”
Her heart began pounding but she defiantly lifted her chin. “You don’t scare me. Not your fucking corporation and not your gazillions. Do your worst,” she challenged.
Just as he took another step forward, the outer door was pulled open and the night clerk walked into the room. The male college student, a part-time employee of about twenty, took one look at her and then nervously glanced at Garrett Rule before looking back to her. “Yes?” she asked a tad too sharply.
“I’m sorry to interrupt. But Romero Calderon is on the line and is insisting on talking to you. I’m sorry, Maria, he doesn’t seem to understand time zones.”
“It’s not a problem.” She wiped her damp palm down the towel that covered her torso and took the cordless phone the clerk extended. Why was she even taking the call? She was only going to get fired anyway. But she knew why . . .the hotel was her life, damn it, and she loved it as if it were a living, breathing entity. Walking away from the two men, she lifted the phone to her ear while she powered up her tablet that lay on a wrought iron table, knowing she was about to need it. Pulling up the calendar, she inquired in flawless Spanish, “Good Evening, Mr. Calderon. How are you this evening, sir? Or should I say morning?”
While she listened to his plea about needing an additional block of rooms for his arrival the next month, she flipped through the reservations calendar. As he continued to plead his case, knowing of the hotel’s recent upheaval, she assured, “Oh, no, no, it’s no problem . . . I promise you, the refurbishment is almost complete, you’re truly going to love the place even more so now. I’ll get you the extra rooms even if it means allowing one of your guests the use of my own personal suite for the duration of your visit.”