“Oh, I’m definitely up for a massage,” a young woman was saying.
“But what kind?” the older woman with her asked eagerly. “I don’t even know what some of these are!”
Scarlet slipped past them to catch Lydia settling clean sheets over the massage tables.
“I wanted to give you heads up about a guest with a coconut allergy, a Mrs. Orainda Santaga.”
Lydia finished tucking the corners under and went to write down the allergy on her scheduling sheet. “Thank you, Scarlet. Did we get many guests from the cruise ship?”
“About a dozen,” Scarlet said.
“Oh good, we should be set for hands in the spa for today without calling Laura in.” Lydia suddenly looked very cagey, an unnatural look for her, and added, “She wasn’t feeling well earlier today, poor thing.”
Scarlet, who already knew about Laura’s pregnant condition but was letting everyone think she didn’t, had to keep an amused smile from her face with effort as Lydia bustled to find an alternate oil for the woman with the coconut allergy.
She caught sight of her reflection in one of the many mirrors and gave her serene face some thoughtful consideration.
Was she looking dated? Her clothing was the type generally called timeless, but maybe it was past time to try something new. And her hair, was it too s
evere? She touched the bun that always pulled her bright hair back from her face and wondered if it seemed uninviting.
A scowl reflected back at her. She didn’t want to look inviting and she was certainly not going to change her look because some stuck-up, big-shot lawyer from the city had come to her resort and danced with her.
Scarlet was furious with herself.
She rolled her shoulders back firmly and went to the kitchen to deliver the coconut allergy warning to Chef personally as well.
She hated Mal Moore, she reminded herself. He was her enemy.
Chapter 11
There was a young cat on Scarlet’s windowsill, grooming itself with one green eye firmly on Mal.
Mal had never considered that Scarlet would be the kind of person to have a pet and the creature was rather confounding.
He should probably attempt to win it over; the best way to exert influence was sometimes sideways. He stood on the far side of Scarlet’s desk trying to figure out how to achieve this goal. “Nice, kitty,” he attempted. “Come.”
The cat continued to twist itself in an impressive display of flexibility and run its tongue over its short, plush fur vigorously. It clearly had no intention of obeying.
It is very... small, his dragon observed. What purpose does it serve? Is she raising it to eat?
Don’t eat it, Mal said firmly. He was sure that would not improve his relationship with Scarlet.
He went around the desk to stand near it, since it was clearly not well-trained. Food was not the worst idea that his dragon had ever had. Perhaps it could be tempted with a treat. “What do cats eat?” He knew a little about dogs, but his exposure to cats was limited to media, and limited was the appropriate word for it.
His dragon gave a mental shrug. Mice?
Mal was strongly dubious that Scarlet would allow roaming mice at the resort. Unless they were guests.
The cat appeared to have finished its licking and now stared up at him, unblinking. After a moment of contemplation, it gave a trilling half-purr. Mal extended a hand to pet it and, alarmingly, it fell over on its side and rolled to its back.
Had he frightened it? It extended its legs, four limbs in each direction, and writhed in place as it made more of its trilling noises. Its belly was soft-looking and fluffy. Clearly this was an invitation for affection.
“It’s a trap,” Scarlet said from behind him.
Mal, alarmed that he hadn’t heard her approach, let his hand fall carelessly to the young cat’s belly.
The cat instantly curled into itself and reached up with all four paws, wrapping itself around Mal’s forearm with suddenly extended claws. Sharp teeth gnawed at his wrist, hard enough that he felt the prick through his shirt sleeve, but not quite hard enough to draw blood.