Her touch. He’d gone too long without her touch.
And he was pissed as hell that he’d been reminded what it was like to walk through life like a dead man and suddenly experience a single jolt of sunshine, like the clouds breaking apart and allowing him one minute of peace.
Too bad peace never lasted, because a natural effect of finally being at peace…
Meant it wasn’t long before you experienced more war.
Fighting.
Death.
It always came back to that, didn’t it?
“Great.” He followed the kid down the hall and out the door, while little whiffs of Nikki’s perfume danced around his nostrils.
Cole was in front of the pool, waving his arms around frantically at an employee who was shaking her head, and then he glanced in Brant’s direction.
Cole took one murderous look at Brant. And charged.
It happened fast. As he got shoved into the pool, Brant pulled the angry bastard in with him.
“Pissing off employees!” Cole shoved Brant under the water then pulled him back up. “Taking advantage of Nikki!”
Brant fought for air then shoved his hands against Cole, pushing a wall of water between them. “It’s none of your fucking business!”
“The hell it is! I’m her best friend!”
“Is that what this is? A friend defending another friend’s honor?”
Cole splashed him. Mature.
Employees started filing in, their expressions horrified.
“Not here,” Brant said.
Cole nodded tersely.
“One reason.” Brant swam to the side of the pool, grabbed a clean towel, and wrapped it around his wet body. “Give me one reason not to fire your ass.”
Cole heaved himself up out of the pool. Cell phones were pointed at both of them.
“Back to work,” Brant barked. “Now.”
A few people grumbled. The rest flat-out ran back to wherever they were supposed to be, but not before looking at Cole as if asking for permission to listen to Brant.
Cole grabbed a towel and nodded.
A waiter asked, “Mr. Wellington, can I get you anything—?”
Brant glared.
The waiter cleared his throat. “More towels, maybe?”
“Two margaritas on the rocks, with salt,” Cole piped up. “Now.”
“Drinking during work hours.” Brant smirked. “You know that’s not really a mark in your favor.”
“Ask me if I give a shit,” Cole snapped.
“You’re fired.”
“You said that already.”
“And I meant it both times.”
“Don’t fire me. Not yet.” Cole leaned back against the chair. “Especially since I saved your life.”
Brant’s mouth dropped open. “By pushing me into the pool and trying to drown me?”
“By cooling you off.” Cole’s eyes narrowed. “According to some of the staff, you seemed overheated after your massage. I was concerned about heat stroke. And your job.” He leaned in with a sneer. “You’re welcome.”
Brant shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Damn it. Even though he was technically Cole’s boss, the man had a point. The company policy basically stated that any sort of fraternization between employees was frowned upon. He suspected he wasn’t the only one who’d been wanting to piss all over that policy.
“What do you know?” Brant asked.
“Too much.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Vague. Great. Just what he needed after a near drowning.
“You hurt her, and I’m going to run you over with my cement-filled SUV.”
Brant shook his head. “And there’s cement in your SUV because?”
“Because I plan on running you over, and I need it extra heavy.”
The waiter returned with their drinks. Brant sipped his, mainly because all he could think about was a certain masseuse and how he’d be seeing her in a few hours—finally.
His fingers itched to touch her. His body burned for her.
“Either you have a thing for margaritas or you’re thinking about her again,” Cole mused, chugging his own drink. “You don’t deserve her.”
“You don’t fucking know me,” Brant snapped.
“I don’t?” Cole leaned forward. “Hmm, let me see: Alcohol-induced orgies and the inability to keep it in his pants ring a bell?”
“What? You nearly kill me and suddenly you have no filter?”
“Or maybe I just don’t give a shit anymore.”
“You’re that protective of your…employee, huh?” Brant waited for Cole to slip, for the guy to say something like She’s mine. Cole shrugged and kept sipping his drink. Damn it.
“You run this hotel well,” Brant said, trying a different tactic. “But don’t think I won’t hesitate to fire your ass if I see any reason to be concerned that you aren’t the very best for business. You did just push your superior into the pool.”