Chapter Six
By midafternoon, a payment had been negotiated with the Los Omegas cartel for the release of two Tex-Oil middle-management employees snatched en route to their Mexico City offices the previous morning. The suits overseeing Tex-Oil interests in the negotiations weren’t happy with the amount. The Peterson Group reps, the insurance company that supplied kidnapping and ransom coverage to Tex-Oil, indicated their willingness to wire funds to a Cayman Island account to pay for the men’s release.
Boone wasn’t convinced the deal was solid. The cartel had agreed too readily. Dread settled in his gut. He didn’t like feeling this way, didn’t like imagining what the families of the missing men must be going through. But he wasn’t being paid to worry. His mission was keeping laser focus on the recovery effort. Boone firmed his jaw and glanced at his point man, Alejandro Mata, who sat slumped in his chair, his fingers steepled and his expression hard as granite.
“What more do you want?” one of the insurance company reps asked. “They’ve given us proof of life.”
“Doesn’t feel right,” Alejandro said, echoing Boone’s thoughts. “When they call tonight with the account information, we’ll agree to two payments. The first, a quarter of the funds, paid to them now in goodwill. The second payment comes upon the handoff of the men.” Although he didn’t need Boone’s approval, he glanced his way.
Boone nodded, uneasy with the never-ending waiting game. He didn’t like the fact the only option they had so far was to play the kidnappers’ game and give in to their demands. “They hold all the cards. We haven’t been able to find their trail, and have no idea which faction of the cartel is even holding them. The operation was well organized. After the grab, they left so many trails we wasted time following every single lead. Their transmissions are scrambled. If anything happened to the phone they left at the scene, we wouldn’t have had a hope of communicating.”
“It’s pretty damn slick,” Alejandro muttered with a flip of a hand. “A grab in broad daylight. A driver in your employ who passed every security check.”
“Maybe your background checks aren’t that good,” the leader of the Tex-Oil team snarled.
Boone refused to show his irritation and met the man’s glare with a steely look. “Our screenings are the best in the business. We didn’t stop with the driver—we vetted his entire family. And we’ve been thorough with surveillance ever since the abduction. His nephew doesn’t get on the school bus without one of our people watching. But local cops are involved in this. Likely federal troops as well. It’s too professional.” Without giving the man a chance to rebut, he glanced back to Alejandro. “You’ll handle the response?”
Alejandro gave him a solemn nod. “We’re moving the response team again. Making sure the cartel can’t find us either.”
“Good.” Boone shot a glance farther down the table at Miguel Torres, an ex–Delta Force soldier who was the response team leader for Tex-Oil. Boone gave the man a steady stare. “Any concerns we haven’t addressed?”
“None,” Torres said, his tone clipped and professional. “Alejandro and I are in lockstep for the duration. So long as the suits let us handle it,” he said, tipping his head toward the executives who glared in frustration, “we’ll be fine.”
Boone glanced at his watch, and then back to the oil execs. Satisfied they’d done all they could at this point, he moved to end the meeting. “We’ll be in touch. Be ready to wire the cash as soon as you hear from us.” He pushed away from the table, walked to the door, and entered the code to unlock it.
The conference room was hardened against attack, a panic room with a steel-reinforced skeleton, sensors to test the air coming from its own dedicated air-conditioning unit, and an arsenal of weapons hidden in the base of the long ebony conference table.
His presence hadn’t been required for this meeting. Alejandro was his Mexican bureau chief and plenty experienced in K&R coordination. He’d been with Boone since he’d started the company, and was another member of his old SEAL unit whom he’d hired straight after leaving active duty. However, with the continued turbulence in the region, Boone liked to make a show, reassure the executives he still had his finger on the pulse of his company, however far-flung its assets. The security services division operated on trust. He’d earned it over the years for successful, discreet negotiations, and for mounting paramilitary operations for rescues when situations warranted. So far, this one hadn’t blown up.
Relocking the door, he headed down the closed-in breezeway to the main house and let himself in.
Beatrice, who’d been monitoring the comings and goings of his guests, waited in the living room. She turned in her swivel chair at the desk where she’d been working. “I assume all’s going well.”
“I wouldn’t be ducking out if it weren’t.”
She flushed. “Your other guest is at the pool,” she said, gesturing toward her computer monitor with the feed in the corner of the screen where she’d been keeping track of Tilly’s whereabouts.
He nodded his thanks. “We’ll be dining in tonight. Alone.”
She gave him a polite smile.
One that didn’t reach her eyes.
Boone made a mental note that Beatrice was due a promotion. A position that moved her out of his immediate influence. She’d become a little too familiar. Had overstepped her bounds a couple of times already, assuming a closer relationship than he’d tolerate. “You’re free for the rest of the day. Serge is on watch. Take one of the cars and do some shopping. Use the company card if you like.”
Her back stiffening, she arched a brow. “Thank you, sir.”
The emphasis she placed on the last word, one she rarely used as the staff closest to him always called him Boone, fired anger inside him. She was well aware of his sexual proclivities, having often called to book his room at The Platform and half a dozen exclusive clubs around the world. He’d never invited her. Would never. He wondered if her nose was out of joint because she’d assumed Tilly was a submissive he’d brought along for sex play.
He left her standing in the living room and walked down the hallway toward his own bedroom. Taking only a few moments, he donned swimming trunks and let himself out the garden gate.
The sun was intense. He hoped Tilly had made use of one of the beach umbrellas. If she’d let herself burn, he wouldn’t be pleased. His lips twitched at the thought of a suitable punishment. Something subtle that she wouldn’t recognize as such.
But he needn’t have worried. She lay on a hammock beneath an umbrella, sleeping. One cheek was pressed against the knotted ropes. Her skin was flushed, but from heat, not excessive sunning. Not surprising, she’d chosen the most demure of the bathing suits he’d ordered.
He glanced to the table beside her and noted an insulated thermos was on the table, the glass beside it half-filled. So she’d hydrated. Boone stepped close and placed his hand on her bare calf. A light touch, which didn’t waken her.
Giving into temptation, he smoothed a hand across her warm skin. Soft and creamy. The sunscreen she’d applied smelled faintly of mangos. He gave her skin another caress.
She gasped and raised her head, her eyes blinking away sleep as she realized who’d touched her. “Boone,” she said, her tone husky.
He slid away his hand. “I wondered if you’d like to join me for a swim,” he said, smiling because one of her cheeks bore deep indents from the hammock’s webbing.
Stretching her arms over her head, she gave a huge yawn. “I wasn’t comfortable going in alone. What if I cramped?”
He grinned. “I’ll keep you safe.” The statement stirred something inside, confusing him for a moment, and he pushed away the feeling before holding out his hand.
Tilly stared for a moment, but then accepted it and swung her legs over the side of the hammock. The moment she stood, she pulled away. They walked to pool’s edge, a foot of space between their swinging hands.
Boone shoved to the back of his mind that staff watched them via cameras mounted in trees surrounding the pool. He never really gave the surveillance a second thought, but he knew Tilly would consider it an invasion of her privacy. Given the world he operated in, the loss of privacy was necessary.
Nearing a natural rock outcropping overlapping the pool, he cast a sideways glance. “You’ll have to lose the sarong.”
“Hell. I showed more of my ass in my Daisy Dukes,” she muttered under her breath. Unknotting the garment, she let it fall to the ground, and then stood, her hands balling at her sides.
“You’re lovely. You’ve nothing to worry about.”
A snort sounded. “I’ve seen pictures on the Internet of the size twos you date.” She widened her arms. “I’m considerably larger.”
“You’re a healthy girl. With curves a man appreciates.”
“Okay,” she said, blowing out a deep breath. “If I wasn’t feeling self-conscious before, I am now.” She gave a little laugh.
A grin tugged the corners of his mouth. “Let’s see if the suit can withstand a little salt water.”
“What’s it made of?” She grinned. “Do you think it might dissolve?”
“A man’s entitled to his own fantasies.”
She laughed and climbed down the steps into the pool, deep enough that the water lapped at her smooth thighs. Then she dipped beneath the surface and popped up, glancing down at her suit. “Nope. You’re doomed for disappointment.”
Feeling lighthearted, he dove into the deep end of the pool. He surfaced, found his footing, and glanced around. She stood in the same place, her gaze locked on his frame. Before she looked away, he noted a sparkle of answering heat in her eyes.
Hiding a smile of satisfaction, Boone waved a beckoning hand. “Don’t worry. Join me.”
Again, she dunked down and swam toward him, careful to keep her head above the water.
“Not much of a swimmer?” he asked as she stopped in front of him, dog-paddling.
“I live on the bayou.” She wrinkled her nose. “Snakes, alligators…”
Boone laughed. “Come deeper. I’ll watch out for you. Nothing will nibble at your toes.” Unless it’s me.
They swam, Tilly venturing into deeper water, bobbing beneath and no longer looking apprehensive. When she rolled to her back and floated, he swam closer, enjoying the view. Her nipples were tight little beads against the thin fabric, her breasts gentle curves. More than anything, he wanted to cup one and see if it would fill his palm. Even more than that, he wanted to hear her gasp of pleasure. But because touching her now wasn’t the smartest plan, he refrained and glanced at her face.
She’d been watching him watching her, and she dropped her lower body and reached up to smooth back her hair. Tension tightened the sides of her mouth. “You really shouldn’t look at me like that. I work for you.”
“Am I making you uncomfortable in an unpleasant way?” he drawled.
Her mouth opened, but then she scrunched her nose. “You had to add that last bit? I could have said yes and it wouldn’t have been a lie.”
“So, in a pleasant way.” Heat pulsed in his veins and he flashed a smile, ruefully aware they were both fighting their attraction.
She shook her head. “This is the oddest corporate induction I’ve ever received.”
Boone shrugged, his casual gesture pure pretense. His attention was locked on its target like a heat-seeking missile and patience wasn’t winning. “You’re rested. You’ve seen a bit of what my life is like. Mission accomplished.”
“Helicopters and secret meetings.” She smiled, but her eyes narrowed on his face. “Do female employees always get this rarefied treatment?”
Boone raised both hands in surrender. “You have me there. I was pleasing myself. I wanted your company.”
She swam to the far side of the pool and climbed onto a rock, pulling up her knees and wrapping her arms around them as her gaze followed him.
Not liking the fact he couldn’t read her expression, he swam closer and hauled himself up beside her. Aware of how close they sat, and how much skin they exposed, he battled with his own body, hoping he wouldn’t betray the intensity of his interest in a way that might embarrass her. “I won’t lie and tell you I don’t hope that we’ll become close,” he said softly. “How close is up to you, Tilly. No pressure.” And as much as it killed him, he meant every word.
She heaved a sigh. Her gaze fell away as her cheeks grew rosy. “Wow, way to put it out there. I think I liked it better just wondering if this was something one-sided.” Her head swung back, gaze meeting his, nearly fearless. “I’m confused. I don’t understand why you’d be interested in me.”
At that moment, Boone felt his age. More than ten years separated them. Life had hardened him, made him sometimes cruel and ruthless. And although he’d begun this seduction as part of his plan to flush out a killer, he wanted none of the bitter ruthlessness to touch her. Tilly was showing an unexpected courage. She was being honest, displaying that innocent curiosity he found so enticing. But how could he answer her in kind? How could he be truthful? “You’re beautiful,” he said, and then grimaced inside, because while it was true, it wasn’t the reason he was interested in her. The answer was becoming very complicated.
“Size twos…” she sang back, her chin lifting higher.
He narrowed his gaze. “You’re someone from my home,” he said, nearing the truth. “I’ve been away a long time. You know the circumstances that forced to me to leave, and yet you don’t look at me with accusations in your eyes. I find that intriguing.”
Her gaze fell again. “You must know who I am.”
“Celeste’s cousin,” he said quietly. “You’re similar in appearance, but you couldn’t be further apart in personality. I have a type I’m attracted to,” he said with a self-mocking smile, “and you’re not it.” He let his gaze sweep her frame. “However, I approve of the differences, Tilly. There’s nothing more important to you than family. You’re loyal. Smart. Ambitious too, although your mother’s illness interrupted your life before you were able to realize your ambitions. I can offer you another path.”
Her breath left in a slow exhale. “And I have to wonder—at what price, Boone Benoit?”
The directness of her question and her unwavering blue gaze took his breath away. How could he tell her he’d give her anything she wanted not to change? Not to learn to despise him? And she worried what her involvement with him might cost her? Boone cleared his throat. “Do you want your brother to join you on the estate?”
Her lips firmed into a straight line. “Would you hold that over me to get what you want?”
“Would that make saying yes easier for you?” Her mouth began to open, but he gave a sharp shake of his head to forestall her argument. “Your brother coming to Maison Plaisir isn’t contingent upon anything. It has nothing to do with whether or not you surrender to me.”
She shook her head, tears shimmering in her eyes. “Surrender. Contingencies. Is everything a campaign, a military maneuver? Learn your target’s weaknesses and strike?”
Her tears tightened his chest. He reached for her hand.
Glaring, she pulled back, and then lowered her legs, preparing to push off into the pool.
He leaned toward her, holding her there with just his gaze. “Are you angry because I’m manipulating you, or because you’re tempted? The truth, Tilly.”
“Am I tempted?” she asked, her voice husky. “Yes, but in the same way I couldn’t resist staring at a cobra.”
“So, I’m a snake.” His chest pinched. He snorted and looked away. “I’ll leave you to your swim.”
* * *
As he pushed off the ledge and into the water, Tilly wished she could have taken back that last bit. She’d seen his grimace, and although she couldn’t be sure it hadn’t been from pure annoyance, she thought she read pain in his expression.
Her mind whirled with everything he’d said. As she’d feared all along, he had ulterior motives for hiring her. He was attracted, that much was obvious, but was the reason because he saw her as a challenge to overcome? Or because he was truly interested…in her…not just the momentary pleasure he might find?
The answer worried her, because he was right—she was tempted. But now that was mitigated by the fact she was mad as hell, knowing just how well he’d planned to get her here. She wasn’t the least flattered by the effort. Deep down, she knew his motivation was revenge. How she was supposed to fit into his game plan, she didn’t know.
The tops of her shoulders tingled. She needed to get out of the intense sun. She’d take a shower, rummage through the kitchen for food, and do her best to avoid him until their departure.
The sight of him in his swim trunks, his sex perfectly outlined in the thin fabric, had been almost too much to bear. Her nipples had hardened instantly. Her mouth had watered. She’d had the urge to lick the droplets on his chest, to run her fingers through his short wet hair.
They’d both been nearly naked, wet, and steamy hot. She’d been tempted to tell him nothing mattered except that he ease the throbbing ache he was building inside her.
Boone Benoit might be an entitled jerk, but apparently she had a type too.
* * *
Tilly rolled to her back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. Her stomach rumbled. She wanted to ignore her hunger pangs and avoid any possible contact with Boone while she was still annoyed and anxious, and hadn’t yet decided what to do about it. Knowing she ought to quit rather than risk everything for a paycheck, still, she was tempted by the man and everything that came with him.
She glanced down at the nightgown she’d donned after her bath—a sheer pink negligee. So lovely and delicate she was afraid a hangnail would snag it. It fit perfectly, was nearly transparent. She’d never worn anything this beautiful or sexy.
Her stomach rumbled again, and she sighed. There was no way she’d last until morning.
Although she’d promised herself she intended to keep a low profile until they boarded the helicopter to return to Bayou Vert, she couldn’t resist the urge to primp a bit. For herself, because there were all those beautiful clothes hanging in the closet, and she’d missed the feel of fine fabric against her skin.
At least, that was her story, and she was going to stick to it. And if she happened to meet him in passing, well, Boone had seen her at her worst. Why not let him see her at her best? So she chose a soft silk wrap dress the color of watermelon. Soft pleating beneath her breasts emphasized her hourglass figure. The hook at the side was the only thing holding together the dress. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders in soft curls, and she applied makeup. Her skin looked radiant, slightly flushed from a little too much sun, but glowed with health. Three-inch silver leather sandals were overkill for a refrigerator raid, but she felt like a princess.
Holding her breath, she let herself out of her room and made a beeline for the kitchen, half hoping she wouldn’t meet Boone along the way, but half hoping she would. Peeking inside, her shoulders fell when she found the room empty. All dressed up and no one to notice.
Which was just as well. Her disappointment at his absence was frighteningly strong. She knew she was vulnerable to his overtures because she found him so darned attractive, so powerfully beautiful. Her nerves still felt raw after their conversation in the pool—from everything they’d said as well as his sheer physical perfection. She walked to the fridge, reached for the handle, and pulled, pausing when footsteps padded toward her. She stiffened.
A hand reached beyond her and shut the fridge door.
Her heart pounded like a snare drum. She didn’t know whether it was her natural fight-or-flight response, or simply her natural reaction to him.
Boone stood so close to her that his masculine scent—of male musk and that elusive hint of cinnamon—filled her senses. She turned her shoulders, intending to put space between them, but was unable to resist the pull to be even closer to him. Her breasts brushed against his chest. Clasping her hands behind her, she leaned back against the door.
“Going somewhere?” he murmured, his gaze sweeping downward.
Was the widening of his pupils due to his approval of her appearance? “Dinner, I hope. I’m starved.”
His eyes narrowed. A cool smile eased up the corners of his mouth. “You’re in luck. I have something for us on the patio.” He grasped her hand and tugged her behind him.
She should have declined, just to place their relationship on solid footing. But the past two days had been a whirlwind of changes and spiraling emotions. Her interest was piqued—she couldn’t deny that. If he was a jerk, she’d find out soon enough. The man couldn’t be that good an actor. And then the lust she felt every time she saw him would wither and die.
Why not take a chance? See where this led?
Tilly shook her head. The “why not” was obvious. Her cousin had been murdered and he’d been implicated. Her friends and family would be appalled. But she had good reason to believe he wasn’t to blame. Even though the accusation didn’t appear to have harmed him, she couldn’t walk away and be just one more person who abandoned him.
Way to put a damper on things. Still, she didn’t drag her feet as he led her out into the courtyard. The space glowed with Christmas lights shining overhead and candles glinting on a patio table. She couldn’t help but sigh at the lovely setting. His people had gone to quite a bit of effort to provide a romantic meal.
She glanced around, assuring herself they were alone. “A table for two?”
“Just us. Disappointed?” he asked, pulling out a chair to seat her.
She didn’t answer his question. She couldn’t. But that was as much of an admission she was happy with the arrangements as she was willing to give him. Covered dishes sat in the middle of the table. The aroma of cooked beef, peppers, and onions made her mouth water.
He poured red wine into glasses for them both, and then lifted the covers to reveal the dishes. “I hope you like fajitas.”
“I do,” she said, feeling a bit pampered.
Small dishes of freshly made guacamole and steamed corn tortillas were uncovered. He placed a tortilla on her plate then ladled meat, green peppers, and onions beside it. He unrolled her silverware and flicked the napkin before setting it in her lap.
A gesture that if it had happened in a restaurant wouldn’t have set her nerve endings afire, but his fingers brushed her lap. Not until he’d served himself and taken a seat did she draw a deep breath. “Thanks, this is lovely.”
She fashioned a taco and began to eat, glad to have her mouth filled so she wouldn’t be expected to hold a conversation with the man whose gaze seemed to notice everything. His stare didn’t waver.
She put down her taco and dabbed her mouth and chin. “Am I wearing my food?”
“Are you nervous, Tilly?”
The corners of her mouth tugged downward. “I shouldn’t be. It’s just dinner.”
“A little bit of edginess is warranted.”
Her muscles tensed and she blinked her surprise. “Because we’re alone?”
“Because I’m thankful there’s a table between us.”
Her breath hitched, and she slowly shook her head. “Otherwise…?”
“I’d be tempted to release that jeweled clasp holding together your dress.”
Heat filled her cheeks. She picked up the fajita taco and took a larger bite than she should have, suffering through his chuckles while she chewed and chewed. How dare he laugh when he was the one who’d made such an inappropriate comment? Anger flared, nearly choking her.
Although the food was tasty, her stomach was too knotted for her to enjoy it. She refused a second serving and instead sipped her wine, hoping the mellow liquid would soothe her ravaged nerves.
Boone helped himself to more food, then sat back in his chair, gliding his finger around the edge of his wineglass—still watching her with those sharp, icy-blue eyes.
Silence stretched between them. Not a comfortable one.
Tilly shifted in her chair and took another sip. “Perhaps you should tell me what my duties will be once we return to Bayou Vert. Because the job wasn’t described in the hiring notice, I don’t have any idea of what my day-to-day will be.”
He nodded. “I’ll want you to start working with Colby Jones. You’ve met him.”
“The construction foreman?”
“Yes, he’s been supervising the hiring of workers and overseeing the reconstruction. If you could help him by interfacing with the locals, getting word out a little more effectively, I’d appreciate it.”
She let his little fib about doing all his own hiring slide, but only because she was flattered he’d used the ploy. “Tired of Mae rippin’ down the notices?”
He grimaced. “The existence of a local newspaper would be helpful.”
A mountain breeze lifted her hair, and she smoothed it back. She cleared her throat. “I can help spread word. I assume he’ll still do the actual interviewin’ since I won’t know what questions to ask regardin’ laborers’ skills.”
“Yes.”
She glanced down at the wineglass she fingered. “You said I’d be a secretary.”
“Only when I need office help while I’m at Maison Plaisir.”
A twinge of disappointment dampened her mood. Of course he didn’t need her; he had Beatrice’s professional services.
Boone tapped the table with his finger, drawing her gaze again.
“When I travel, I’ll want you with me. You can keep in touch with Jonesy, but I don’t want you tied to the place twenty-four/seven. You’ll be responsible for hiring the hospitality staff to support our guests—clerks, cooking staff, housekeeping—but you’ll also need to hire a manager who will report to you.”
The thought of accompanying him on trips like this one was dizzying. “I’m sure you have people who could liaise for you.”
“I do. But I find I’ve become insular.” He steepled his fingers under his chin. “As you’ve seen, most of my staff is made up of former marines and navy buddies. They’re intimidating to the locals. I’d like to make an effort to blend a bit more. The plantation will be my home, so the sooner I start making those relationships, the better. You can help me with that.”
Tilly pursed her lips. “Folks in the Bayou can be standoffish.”
“You mean they have long memories.”
She sighed. “Yes, they do.”
Boone waved a hand. “And yet you’re here. And not afraid of me.”
“Celeste was my cousin.” Her thoughts flew to her relatives and friends. “Some will think of me as a traitor to my own family. I might not actually be of much help to you buildin’ those relationships you want.”
“You’re a first step. I’ll appreciate your ideas on how I can polish up my tarnished image.”
A smile twitched the corners of her mouth, and she raised her head. “If you don’t drive around in that Bentley like you’re royalty, that might be helpful.”
“Should I buy a pickup?”
“Wouldn’t hurt.” She smiled. “Might be nice to see you doin’ some fishing or hiring an airboat for a swamp tour. Get to know the locals.”
“Sure they won’t try to toss me off the boat?”
She arched a brow and her gaze dropped to his muscled chest. “If you wore something besides dress shirts and suits, they might actually notice they’d have a hard time tossin’ you anywhere.”
His head tilted to the side “How about I put you in charge of my meet-the-locals campaign? And you’ll shop for things I should be wearing to impress them a little less.”
She grinned. “I promise I won’t put you in a Bubba Gump Shrimp T-shirt.”
His teeth flashed with his quick smile.
Darkness had deepened around them. Gone was her nervousness, although whether from the wine or the conversation, she wasn’t sure. “I guess you really do need someone like me.”
“Did you think I was hiring you just because you’re beautiful?”
She blinked, her smile fading. “I thought maybe you were hiring me just because I was Celeste’s cousin.” Her mouth dried, but she forced out the words. “Because I look so similar to Celeste, folks are bound to be nervous, thinkin’ you’re bound to repeat the past. If I managed not to die, you’d have your proof you’re not a murderer to wave in front of their faces.”
Boone breathed deeply. “You must not have a very high opinion of me.”
“I’m sorry if I’m bein’ blunt, but I thought you might appreciate a little plain speakin’. I don’t have any opinion of you at all. I don’t know you. But I did my homework. I studied you. You led an impressive career while you were in the navy. And somehow, you parlayed what you learned and the connections you made along the way into this company that you’ve taken global in just a few years. So I know you’re smart. That you’ve managed to inspire loyalty in the men who followed you from the navy. You hire the best. Have a stellar reputation.” Tilly gave him a straight, unblinking stare. “A dangerous one as well.”
Boone’s glance remained steady, which encouraged her to continue. “I know what you’ve accomplished, but I don’t know you. All I do know is that you’ve flirted with me, manipulated me into acceptin’ an ambiguous position. You can have your choice of female companions. Yet you want me to become more than just your local liaison. Certainly not a secretary.” A hand swept an arc in the air. “You’re makin’ this up on the fly.”
His lips pursed and he leaned an arm on the table. “Tilly, I hired you as my personal assistant, my local liaison, because I think you’re qualified. I decided that on the fly when I first met you.”
Crossing her arms, she leaned back. “You should have hired me as your hospitality manager. You won’t find anyone local who’s better suited. I know the area, can work with the local suppliers, the staff…”
“You don’t understand the nature of the guests I’ll be opening my house to.”
“You think I can’t comport myself among wealthy guests. That’s ridiculous.” She leaned forward, jaw tight. “You know where I worked. Those hotels are the best in Houston.”
Boone’s eyes narrowed. “The wealthy clientele at Maison Plaisir are a discreet group with certain…proclivities and preferences. A place like Bayou Vert, with its isolation, will give them the freedom and the privacy to be themselves.”
Unease crept along her skin and she shook her head. “Proclivities. Preferences. What are you talkin’ about?” Her eyes widened. Good Lord, was he reopening the estate only to make it some sort of sex club for the wealthy?
Boone’s gaze held steady, boring into hers. “I think the moment some of the more dominant men and women see you, they won’t rest until they can claim you for their own.”