Game On (Entwined Hearts) (23 page)

He took the coffee and thanked the steward. “There are plenty of reasons to have me around that aren’t associated with your indiscretions in college. You’re one of the heirs to a fortune and it makes you a target. I’ll be there if you need me.”

“And what qualifies you for that honor?” Kat sipped her refreshed drink. “A few self-defense courses at your local gym?”

“Two tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.” Cole resisted the urge to shrug off his suit jacket and unbutton his shirt to display his battle scars. “Ground pounder. I’ll be able to take care of you.”

Her eyes dropped to his chest, studying him again. “Indeed. We’ll see about that.”

Kat resisted the urge to hold her breath. The man was hotter than hot.

The toned muscles under his shirt showed his excellent physique, the way he carried himself evidence he’d done his time in the military. She could have checked his résumé but his alert status said it all. The way his eyes scanned the area around her, behind her as she strolled up to the plane—how he evaluated the man carrying her luggage, assessing him as a possible security risk.

This wasn’t a rented wannabe cop looking for a free ride and all the ass he could grab.

This man was a professional from the top of his cropped brown hair to his polished black shoes.

He was also damned handsome. The buzz cut actually added to his features with his piercing blue eyes and strong jawline making her feel safer just by his presence. He gave off an aura of security, a buffering zone around him of comfort and control.

And yet . . .

Kat felt a dangerous shiver sneak up her spine, a frisson of desire stroking her insides as she imagined what he’d be like unleashed. What lay under that sharply ironed white shirt; what did he hide under those black pants? What was Cole Harrison like when he wasn’t in charge, when he wasn’t in control?

Kat forced herself to look away from him before her focus went elsewhere, places she didn’t dare let it go.

She had work to do and none of it involved rolling the sexy bodyguard. He might be a distraction for a night, but she didn’t have the luxury of thinking about that—not now.

She reached over and pulled the window shade down before opening her laptop and focusing in on the business she had to save if she wanted to get out of New Orleans.

The image of a riverboat flashed on the screen, the old-style paddle fixed in place and useless. It had been a legitimate working vessel once upon a time, but now it’d been gutted from the inside out and renovated to hold as many gambling machines and gaming tables as possible. Two floors with a dance club at one end, a live entertainment venue.

Kat tried not to look at Cole. He’d be spending a lot of time there making sure the staff knew what to look for and keeping them honest. His responsibilities weren’t only to stand around and take care of her; he’d be in charge of revamping the security system and making sure both the hotel visitors and the gamblers were protected in every way possible.

The outside of the riverboat was gaudily painted in a series of red, orange, white, and blue panels with Christmas lights strung from stem to stern. She cringed, making a note to start shuffling paint designs immediately. While wild color schemes might enhance the appeal of some places, this wasn’t one of them.

It was her job to make it beautiful again, appealing to the tourists who wanted a bit of New Orleans magic and hoped Lady Luck would reach down and tap them on the shoulder.

Next to it sat a beautiful building, or it had been in its prime. The Majestic had begun life as a hotel servicing those who traveled the waterways, but like the paddleboat, it had fallen into disrepair over the decades and now was only a shadow of its old southern legacy. Since people began deciding to spend their money at newer, more modern hotels and casinos, the Majestic had slipped to the bottom of the list for visitors to New Orleans. A brief computer search showed single-star reviews on the review sites, most of the complaints mentioning the lack of enthusiasm from the staff and the lousy decor.

The building stood only ten stories high, short compared with the other hotels competing for visitors. The room occupancy was in single digits and it’d been an act of charity to keep the full staff on since McMaster purchased the hotel a month ago.

Kat studied the images of the hotel lobby, the worn furniture and sagging chairs making her wince. Faded red curtains hung everywhere, covering what she suspected was peeling paint and wallpaper. Pictures of landscapes hung in old wooden frames, most of them not even depicting New Orleans.

It reminded Kat of an old woman sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of a rooming house, telling tales of when she was young and popular, of the men rushing to court her with classic southern hospitality and manners. But no one came to see her anymore and she sat there waiting, waiting for suitors who weren’t interested in wooing the senior citizen.

It was . . . sad.

Now Kat had to come in and work her magic, turn the Majestic into a profitable hotel and casino. The reconstruction was going to take weeks, if not months, and the business would continue to bleed red.

But the physical issues weren’t her only concern.

She tapped on the staff listing, going to the top of the virtual page.

The image flared up with a touch of her finger.

The manager, Max Hopper, had been instructed to meet them on arrival. He’d been installed a year ago, courtesy of the previous owners, and hadn’t managed to turn a profit despite having a free hand with the property.

Another tap of her finger brought up the assistant manager, Julien Devereaux. It was a group picture with Max, the housekeeping staff behind them in a smiling, cheerful mob.

Max had a worried look on his face, the gray on his temples standing out from his short black hair. He wore a gray dress shirt and stood there, arms hanging free.

Julien looked quite different. The eyes caught her attention first, dark and hypnotizing. Long brown hair swept off his shoulders, daring her to order him to get a haircut. He stood beside Max with a cocky smirk, his hands jammed into his pockets. The black shirt was unbuttoned almost to his waist, showing off his bare chest.

He didn’t look like any assistant manager she’d met before.

Another click brought up Julien’s work history. He’d started out as a blackjack dealer not long before Hurricane Katrina had blasted New Orleans. While many had fled the city he’d stayed, refusing to evacuate.

He’d taken night courses and climbed the ranks, getting a business degree alongside the real-world experience. And yet . . . he’d stalled at the Majestic for some reason, staying at the hotel two years so far, even when Max had been parachuted in over his head. Julien had stayed there longer than any other assistant manager had. With his work experience he could have gone elsewhere and demanded twice the salary.

So why had he stayed?

Kat closed the file.

The man could be on the take, padding his salary with money stolen from the casino. She drew her finger along the virtual jawline, noting the cheeky sneer he gave the camera.

You might be a handsome bastard, but if you’re dirty you’re gone.

Her attention went back to Max. She hadn’t had to deal directly with a pilfering manager, but there was always a first time.

She turned to the waiting bodyguard.

“How good are you at throwing someone out on the street?”

A smile tugged at Cole’s lips. “I believe that’s part of my job description.”

She returned the grin with interest. “Good. I might have need for those particular skills.”

Kat couldn’t help looking at his hands. Strong, calloused, capable.

It took a concentrated effort to not think about what they’d be like on her bare skin.

Upon landing at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport, they transferred from the McMaster private jet to a helicopter.

Kat couldn’t help but flash back to the news reports from the hurricane’s attack as they flew, the televised images of the flooded streets and stranded people waving for help. The National Guard helicopters plucking children off the rooftops and the horrific images of refugees begging for help, and the final exodus: the tour buses taking many families to a new life from which they never returned, rebuilding in another city.

Some had predicted New Orleans would never recover, that Katrina had been a death blow to the city.

They’d been proven wrong.

She hoped she’d be able to add to the city’s success and recovery.

The helicopter hovered over the fading
H
on the roof for a second before coming to a soft landing. Kat let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and stared out into the sunset.

It was beautiful, the different pinks and oranges creating the illusion of heaven on the horizon. They were on the edge of the city, facing out onto the river and, not so far away, the Gulf of Mexico.

She couldn’t imagine a more tranquil setting.

The attendant opened the helicopter door and a wave of humidity hit her, choking the words in her throat. It was as if she’d jumped into a pool, the moist heat soaking her white dress.

Kat didn’t notice that Cole had come around from the other side until he was there, helping her down as the attendant who had flown in with them unpacked her luggage.

“Where—” She glanced around the rooftop. “Where is everyone?”

She wasn’t expecting a coronation, but the pebbled surface was empty without so much as a single hotel employee waiting to welcome her.

“They knew we were coming,” Cole said.

As if on cue the door to the stairwell flew open and a man emerged. His purple shirt was open almost to the waist and he wore black pants, tight in all the right places.

Kat recognized Julien Devereaux, her heartbeat increasing as she ran through the scenarios that would put him here. None of which included good things for her or the Majestic.

He strolled to them with his arms open and a wide grin showing off a bright smile that momentarily disarmed her annoyance.

“Sorry I’m a few minutes late. There were some issues I had to deal with.” He bowed to Kat. “Assistant Manager Julien Devereaux, at your service.”

She paused, caught between his gentlemanly approach and hard business. “Where’s Max?”

Julien frowned, tilting his head to one side. “Pardon me?”

“Max Hopper. Your boss?” She had to raise her voice as the helicopter rose to head back to the airport, buffeting them with a hot wind. She put her hands on her hips to emphasize her words, ignoring the dress whipping around her legs. “The manager. He should be the one to meet me here.”

“Ah, yes.” He smiled. “Mr. Hopper won’t be coming today. Actually, he’s probably at the airport by now.” He swept a hand toward the stairwell. “If you please.”

“Airport?” Kat frowned as he led her through the small entrance. “I don’t understand. I told him I’d be coming in by helicopter.”

“He’s cut and run.” Cole’s dry statement shot through the dim lighting as the elevator doors opened, ready to take them into the bowels of the hotel. “And left Julien here to pick up the pieces.”

The smile flashed again, reminding her of a Cheshire Cat on the prowl. “Yes. That’s basically what’s happened.”

Kat ground her teeth together, feeling the muscles at the back of her neck tighten. She had been at the Majestic all of three minutes and already things were going to hell. “Okay. First, take me to my office.”

All of the offices were on the hotel’s main floor. The elevator ride was silent, both men standing beside her.

As soon as they stepped out Julien sent the elevator back to the rooftop for her luggage. He led them through a side corridor to the office.

“This isn’t one of the main elevators,” she said.

“No. We use it for roof access only.” Julien smiled at a housekeeper as the uniformed woman brushed by, pushing a cleaning cart. “It gives a certain degree of privacy if it doesn’t open out into the lobby. For those visitors who want a discreet arrival.” He paused in front of an unmarked door. “Here we are.” He pushed it open and led them in.

She stepped in and looked around. The room reeked of tobacco, the bare shelves and walls signaling a hasty retreat for the previous owner.

“This was Max’s office.” Kat moved behind the antique rosewood desk, caressing the varnished wood with both hands before sitting.

The man did have good taste in furniture. The leather chair had thick, luxurious cushions pulling her into its embrace. She resisted the urge to wriggle her hips and wallow in the comfortable seat.

At least the idiot had done something right. Given the amount of time it was going to take to clean up the mess, she could at least do it in comfort.

“It was.” Julien gestured to a small box in the corner containing a few books and garish trophies. “I was finishing when you arrived. He took his personal effects and left the rest. I assumed you’d want to put up your own items.” He wrinkled his nose. “And get an air freshener from housekeeping.”

“I do. And I will.” She entwined her fingers and leaned in, locking the man in her sights. “Am I going to check the books and find that Max gave himself a generous bonus on the way out?”

“No.” Julien shook his head. “Max might not have been a good manager but he was an honest one.” He tapped his bare chest where the purple shirt hung open. “I, however, believe in trust, but verify. I made sure he left with nothing more than what he was owed.”

“I’ll still be checking the books.”

“Of course.” He settled in the leather-bound chair opposite her. “I expect you to. And to hold me responsible if there are any errors.” His attention went to Cole, now standing in the corner of the room like a Greek statue. “Is he really necessary?”

Kat glanced at Cole. “I guess so.”

She pressed her lips together, not sure if this was the right place or time to discuss security procedures.

Cole took the initiative. “I’m here to keep her safe from any and all dangers.” He eyed Julien.

Julien returned the glare with interest, holding his own.

Kat saw the tension between them, the invisible rubber band growing taut. She couldn’t help but enjoy the flash of heat spiraling through her veins at seeing both men face off over who would be in the same room as her. It was a hell of a sensual rush she hadn’t experienced before, running straight to her inner core as she watched them duel.