A Bachelor At The Wedding. Kate Little

you like. If you need a hand, just holler.”

      “This is my assistant, Stephanie Rossi. She’s come down to help out.”

      Matt stepped aside to make the introductions and Ben shook Stephanie’s hand. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. Rossi. Welcome. If you need anything at all while you’re here—”

      I’d better get it myself. Because there’s no one left working here, Stephanie silently finished for him. She glanced at Matt, sensing he knew what she was thinking and shared the joke. It was a struggle to keep a straight face as Ben completed his welcoming speech.

      “—just let me know. I’d be delighted to help you in any way possible….”

      Still, Stephanie felt awfully sorry for the guy. The disaster wasn’t exactly his fault. Though he might lose his job over it. She smiled at him. “Thank you,” she said quietly.

      “You must be tired from the trip. Would you like to see your rooms? I’ve booked you both in the beachfront suites. I think you’ll be quite comfortable.”

      That sounded like a plan, Stephanie thought. She was exhausted. She definitely wanted to see her room. Particularly, her pillow.

      But Matt seemed to have some other plan in mind. She could tell from the way he frowned at the suggestion, before he’d even spoken a word.

      “We didn’t come down here to sleep, Drury. I need a full update on the property. What kind of staff are we left with, what’s the occupancy? What’s going on with the union talks?”

      Matt’s voice rose a notch on each point. Ben Drury seemed to flinch inside his dark blue suit.

      Stephanie felt instantly jolted awake. She took a deep breath and glanced at Drury. He was in the hot seat and she felt sorry for him all over again.

      She suddenly felt sorry for herself, too. It looked as if they were going to be up all night.

      Up all night with Matthew Harding. Was her name going to be added to some long list in his diary, she joked to herself. With a footnote, of course.

      How could hell look so much like paradise?

      That was Stephanie’s first thought as she stepped through the glass doors and stared out at the magnificent view. The private patio, complete with a pool and hot tub, was set right on the beach, steps from the crystal blue bay. At half past six in the morning, the beach was totally empty, serene in the early light. The sand looked fine and white as sugar and the sea was a crystal shade of turquoise blue.

      The private patio was beautifully landscaped, with scarlet and white hibiscus and hot-pink bougainvillea that bloomed wildly while tall palms provided corners of shade. A lattice-work wall, covered with a lush, flowering vine separated the space from the neighboring suite.

      The suite where her boss was presumably still sleeping.

      Stephanie hugged the hotel-issue, terry-cloth bathrobe around her slim form and padded back inside. She wasn’t even sure how she’d woken up so early. The alarm clock she’d found on the nightstand had helped. And she never could sleep late in a strange place.

      But it was mostly sheer terror that had propelled her out of bed today, after little more than four hours’ sleep.

      She pulled apart the little coffeemaker in the suite’s efficient kitchen. She set it up and turned it on. Coffee. She needed some. Bad. Real bad. Though she must have drunk at least a gallon of it last night.

      They’d worked until nearly 2:00 a.m., Ben Drury, Matt, Stephanie and a few key executives, huddled together as they reviewed every facet of hotel operations. Hotel in-operations was more like it—as in totally inoperative, out of order, defunct.

      This was not a surprise. The surprise was that Matt—bullheaded, optimistic, never say die—Harding expected to keep things up and running until the labor dispute was resolved. Which, at the current rate, looked like never.

      Stephanie had to admire him. Another man would have closed the place down, booked the guests into other hotels, the Harding resort in the Florida Keys for instance. Or sent them home with rain checks or gift certificates. But not Matt Harding.

      Pushed to the wall—and delirious from sleep deprivation and an overdose of caffeine—Stephanie had come up with a few innovative ideas last night that seemed to both impress and please her boss.

      But it was one thing to come up with these crazy tactics to keep guests happy and fed and so full of blender drinks, they couldn’t budge off their lounge chairs, much less pack up and leave the place early.

      It was another story entirely to actually pull the rabbit out of the hat. To pull off these crowd-pleasing tricks.

      She’d left with the other executives, while Matt remained, going over the union contract with a bleary-eyed Drury.

      Matt had hardly seemed tired, she recalled, while the rest of them were sitting with their chins on the table. He had stamina. Loads of it. The gossip about him was true. He could go all night. She smiled into her mug as the errant image raced through her mind.

      The sound of splashing water broke into her thoughts. She returned to the glass doors again and glanced at the pool, expecting to see a seagull looking for a luxury bird bath. The pool was empty, without a ripple. Then she realized the sound was coming from next door. Matt’s territory.

      She took a few quiet steps outside and peeked through the vine-covered divider. She could see his dark head cutting through the surface of the water, his long muscular arms and smooth broad back glistening as he made his way down the length of the pool with a powerful breaststroke.

      He was…gorgeous. No question. He looked good in clothes, but this was something else altogether.

      She felt guilty watching him in secret, a peeping Tom. Or the female equivalent. Still, she couldn’t force herself to look away. He was the very definition of total hunk. The masculine ideal. His torso rose as he reached forward in the water and her gaze slid down his sleek form….

      What a pair of shoulders. Look at those arms. What a cute butt….

      He twisted onto his back, floating a moment as he stared at the sky, then started a backstroke.

      Her gaze scanned the flip side, from head to—

      Stephanie blinked and dropped her mug. It crashed and broke into a million pieces. She jumped out of the way with a muffled curse, hot coffee burning her toes. She glanced through the screen just long enough to see that Matt had indeed heard the noise and knew she was standing there.

      She heard the splashing stop and didn’t dare look again to see if he was coming out of the pool.

      “Stephanie? Is that you?”

      It’s my evil twin. I would never stand here, stalking you. Gawking at your naked anatomy…

      Feeling totally mortified, her cheeks flaming as if she’d sat all day in the sun, she swiftly crept inside, not daring to make a sound.

      Her only hope was to avoid Matt when he left his room, she decided.

      She quickly dressed in her rinsed-out underwear and yesterday’s outfit. Then twisted up her hair and brushed her teeth with the corner of a washcloth and the complimentary toothpaste.

      No makeup to hide the bags under her eyes. She could only find a tube of lipstick in her purse. The wrong color, but she put it on anyway, then checked herself out in the mirror.

      She looked terrible. No question.

      There are worse ways to start the day, Stephanie, she reminded herself. Like being caught checking out your boss in his birthday suit.

      Stephanie arrived at the main building of the hotel feeling breathless. Luckily, there was a plan, outlined last night at the meeting. The first hurdle was getting through breakfast service. Stephanie found every able-bodied employee of the hotel assembled in the kitchen, with most not having the faintest idea of what to do.

      She