Taken By Storm. Cat Schield

had been added to their management portfolio, he’d focused his attention on getting the newer ones up to RHG standards, leaving the earliest properties to function without as much oversight. For most this had worked out well.

      Normally Shane didn’t weigh in on staffing decisions at the hotel level, but he hadn’t liked some of the reports that had been coming out of The Opulence. Tom Busch had been hired by the area manager ten months earlier to act as the hotel’s executive manager, and the level of customer service had begun to drop.

      The timing of this was not good with the fifth anniversary retreat for Richmond Enterprises taking place in less than two weeks. Everything needed to be running as smooth as glass. The smallest bump could have a catastrophic ripple effect.

      “So, we’re having dinner to talk about the resort?” he asked.

      The shock on her face, quickly masked, sent a flurry of curses winging through his mind. Had he really just admitted to her that he’d assumed her invitation had been personal rather than business?

      She gnawed on her lower lip and avoided his gaze. A betraying flush raced up her throat and turned her cheeks bright pink. Shane noticed his own skin becoming hotter with each breath. What was it about Isabel that consistently threw him off balance?

      An awkward, breathy laugh escaped her. “Of course. You didn’t think I was hitting on you, did you?”

      “Well...no,” Shane replied, but his response lacked conviction. He cleared his throat, discomfort rendering him less judicious than usual.

      “And if I was?” The smile she threw at him had cheeky undertones.

      Attraction flared anew, tightening his gut. The unwelcome sensation continued to disturb him. “I always keep my business relationships strictly professional.”

      “Of course,” she repeated, nodding vigorously. “And it isn’t as if I thought...” Hot color flushed her cheeks as she trailed off.

      It occurred to Shane that this was the longest conversation he’d ever had with Isabel. He was starting to understand why all the management staff remarked on her winning personality as often as they praised her high level of customer service. She had a knack for drawing people in and making them like her.

      “I imagine you have a lot of women hitting on you,” she prompted when he declined to venture into the silence building between them. “After all, you’re handsome, intelligent and successful.”

      “Not as many women as you think,” he lied, easing her tension with a dry smile. “I work too much and play too little. Friends assure me I will end up a crusty old bachelor if I keep going like this.”

      Why was he discussing his personal life with a member of his staff? Because this slender redhead roused all sorts of unprofessional impulses.

      “All it will take is the right woman.”

      He doubted that was true. “Spoken like a true romantic.”

      “You say ‘romantic’ like it’s a dirty word.”

      He used his thumb to gesture at his chest. “Crusty old bachelor.”

      “You don’t believe in romance?”

      He was an emotionally shuttered workaholic. “Let’s just say I don’t have time for it.”

      “But do you believe in it?” she persisted, mesmerizing him with the specks of green shimmering in her hazel eyes.

      “No.”

      The single, blunt syllable was meant to shut down the conversation. To his dismay, he underestimated the petite idealist. She grinned at him, her challenging smirk a too-late warning that he’d blundered into quicksand.

      Before he could elaborate or explain, her smartphone buzzed. She shifted her attention to the screen and sighed.

      “The Jamisons’ wedding party has started to arrive early and we’re not quite ready for them. I have to go. See you at eight.” And then she was speeding off, her long strides taking her arresting presence beyond his reach.

      In the back of his mind, a voice reminded Shane why he avoided engaging with this woman. All the information he gleaned about her from his management staff said she excelled at her job because she had a knack for reading people and providing them an experience they didn’t even realize they wanted. Returning guests flocked to her concierge desk, knowing anything Isabel planned for them would be the perfect experience.

      Alone with his thoughts, Shane found himself needing a bracing hit of brisk mountain air. He turned in the opposite direction and headed for a side door that led to the lower terrace. That the encounter had not gone his way didn’t surprise Shane. Isabel’s quick mind, passionate nature and eloquence were more than a match for his dogged determination and disciplined pragmatism.

      He glanced at his watch as a cool fall breeze smacked his overheated face. He had four hours until their next meeting. Barely enough time for him to shore up his defenses. One thing was for certain, he needed his wits about him when dealing with Isabel Withers.

       Two

      “I can’t believe you lied to me.”

      Teresa St. Claire shied away from the accusations blazing in Liam Christopher’s eyes and shifted her attention toward the document clutched in his left hand. His father’s will. The venom in his eyes lanced through her, cutting deep into her heart. It was as if every bit of rapport they’d developed these last few weeks had been erased in the time it took for her to use the bathroom.

      Five minutes.

      What could possibly have gone this wrong in such a short period of time?

      When she’d slipped away from the yacht’s lounge, he’d been relaxed and in a good mood, his obvious affection turning her bones to mush.

      The last thing she expected on her return was to bear the brunt of his cold fury.

      “I didn’t. I haven’t,” she insisted, confused and off balance. “What’s going on?”

      The stack of papers fluttered as he gestured with them. “My father left you twenty-five percent of his personal stock in Christopher Corporation.”

       He’d done what?

      “That’s crazy,” Teresa murmured, barely able to breathe as she struggled to absorb that his father, her mentor, had left her a small fortune. “I don’t understand.”

      Shock and dismay made her thoughts thick and gummy. Beneath her feet, the sixty-eight-meter yacht churned placidly through the calm waters of Puget Sound, but Teresa’s equilibrium pitched and heaved. She tottered over to the closest chair and sat down.

       Why would Linus leave me anything?

      “...a year?” Liam had continued speaking, but she’d stopped listening. His voice had sounded muffled and indistinct as if she was hearing him while being submerged in water. “I need those shares back now.”

      The rage in Liam Christopher’s voice sliced through the fog surrounding Teresa. Wincing at his fury, she blinked several times to clear her vision. When she glanced his way, she wished his features had remained indistinct.

      She held out her hands in a conciliatory manner. “I missed what you said just now about the will’s terms. Could you repeat the last part?” She forced a shaky laugh. “This is all overwhelming.”

      “My father put a clause in the will that states you can’t divest yourself of the shares unless and until you spend a year on the board.”

      “What?” This additional complication on top of an already tricky situation threatened to overwhelm Teresa’s ability to maintain some semblance of calm.

      “Seems my father believed you’d be good for