She opened one eye, and gave him a looked that conveyed her definite lack of interest in getting up, but after a moment she opened them both, and Mark let his arms fall away so she could stretch and yawn, levering herself upright. While he sat up, she crawled out of the bed, bending to go through the drawers that they’d designated hers for something to wear.
“Well,” Mark said, knowing she wouldn’t mind hearing it, “that's a lovely view.”
Erica gave her hips a deliberate little wiggle that made Mark groan low in his throat and wish that he didn’t have things to do after all, because there were far better things they could be doing in here. Alone. Preferably before Erica put clothes on. She glanced back over her shoulder at him, fully aware of what she had just done, and gave him a smile that was entirely too sweet to be believable.
“If we had more time,” she said, “I'd let you get a closer look. But, as you so firmly pointed out, we’ve got places to be. And things to do. You’re running a hell of a popular hangout for the rich and famous these days.”
It was true. Since the piece on the country club had aired, the influx of customers had been—if Mark was honest with himself—almost more than they could handle. Which wasn’t a complaint. He had wanted the country club to succeed from the beginning. But the workload was putting stress on everyone. They were going to have to bring in more staff.
And things had been strained with Erica. The constant concerns of running a rapidly-expanding business hadn’t exactly made Mark the nicest person to be around; he knew that. And Erica didn’t take well to that.
Last night, though, had been good. For both of them. And the sex had been amazing. Mark buttoned his shirt as he watched Erica put makeup on, and wondered if there was any way he could manage a repeat performance later.
On his way out of the room he leaned over to steal a kiss, supporting her face gently in his palm and lingering for a long, delicious moment over her mouth. Then it was downstairs and to business, the pleasures of the bedroom put aside until after the work day had passed.
***
The phone was ringing again. At the reception desk, Christine picked up the line, answering smoothly, and Mark turned to head back toward the kitchen, where they would inevitably be having some kind of problem with something that he desperately needed to fix, as usual.
“Mr. Reid.” The head chef met him just inside. “The cabbages we got in are terrible quality. Half rotted, some of them. I can’t serve those to guests.”
And there was the problem, just like he’d expected. Honestly, they’d been open for long enough that the kitchen shouldn’t be having trouble with such mundane things, and if they did they should be able to handle it without him. But of course, they couldn’t. Mark sighed.
“Mr. Reid,” said a voice behind him. “You’ve got a Mr. Burwick on line two, demanding to speak with the owner of the country club. He won’t take no for an answer.”
“Chef Blake,” Mark said. “Go ahead and call the supply company. You’ve got the go ahead from me. And talk to the manager in charge of this stuff. He’s probably better help than I’d be.”
He crossed into the lobby again, taking the phone Christine offered.
“Yes,” he said. “This is Mr. Reid, owner of Little Lake Country Club. How can I help you?”
The voice that came down the line was overly loud. “Yes. Mr. Reid. Thank you for speaking with me. I think I misplaced my wallet while I was visiting. Have you had anything come through lost and found?”
“If someone’s wallet had been found, it would come directly to me,” Mark said. “We keep any lost and found valuables in my office. There hasn’t been anything today or yesterday.”
“Then it was stolen,” the man on the other end said. “And I’m holding the club responsible.”
Mark ran a hand through his hair, pausing to lean against one of the walls that was out of the way enough that he probably wouldn’t be run over by any of the serving staff moving back and forth between the kitchen and the restaurant, but was also not within the public eye. The last thing he needed to do was have an argument with a customer in front of his clientele, even over the phone.
“Mr…”
“Mr. Hill.”
“Mr. Hill,” Mark said. “If your wallet was stolen while you were at the club—and you have no proof of that—but if it was, then we aren’t responsible. It was your personal property, and on your body. We have no liability. There are signs clearly posted in the change rooms, fitness rooms, and several other locations throughout the club. If your wallet does—”
“You’re telling me that you’re going to just ignore the fact that my wallet was stolen on your property?” Mr. Hill demanded, shouting into the phone at a much higher volume than was polite or at all required.
“Your best option in a case like this is to call the police,” Mark told him, forcing his voice to stay calm. He wasn’t going to yell back at the man. Whatever the guy’s attitude, he was a customer, and Mark had a reputation as a business owner to uphold. A reputation which, some days, was beginning to feel increasingly unimportant in the face of the things some people thought they could get away with. But he hadn’t come this far for nothing. “Let them know that you think your wallet was stolen. I highly suggest you call your bank and cancel your credit cards if you haven’t already. They’ll be able to help you out a lot better than we will.”
“I’ll be sure to mention that in my review of your establishment,” Mr. Hill said sharply.
The line disconnected.
Mark straightened up, shaking his head, and started back toward the main part of the kitchen to deal with the cabbages. The never-ending nonsense had to settle down sometime. Eventually, everyone would settle in and they’d have a regular clientele and a well-oiled machine of a country club. But Alex might have warned him that running a business was going to be so chaotic before he’d encouraged him to do it.
Maybe Mark would mention that the next time they talked.
In the meantime, he had a dozen other things to deal with before the Saturday night crowd showed up in a few hours and he was expected to play socialite as well as business owner.