Under His Obsession - A Steamy Workplace Romance - Cathryn Fox Page 0,21
home. I’m actually waiting to hear from him. I’ll let him know you stopped by with the johnnycakes. He’ll be disappointed that he missed out.”
“Before you fly back, I’ll bring a fresh batch for James.”
I put my hand on hers. “You’re too kind.”
“You’re the kind one, sir.”
Sir.
Jesus, when Khloe called me that earlier, a streak of anger behind the word, my dick stood up and took notice. I have no idea why I want to hear that on her lips in the bedroom.
“Things are good at Great Bay Resort?” Her husband, Samuel, had been injured in the hurricane, and after millions of dollars’ worth of repairs to Granddad’s resort, he’s back working. But now he’s out of maintenance—the lifting had aggravated his back—and working in the kitchen with Bevey and the rest of the culinary crew.
She steeples her fingers and looks at the sky. “Give me strength.”
I laugh. “I take it he’s underfoot.”
“He needs to leave me to the cooking. The man can’t boil water without burning it.”
“How about I pay him a visit and see what other job he might enjoy.”
“You are a savior,” she says, and a big splash below catches our attention. I glance through the glass-panel decking and catch a glimpse of Khloe swimming from one end of the infinity pool to the other. A bead of sweat travels down my back when she surfaces on the other end and I glimpse her breasts barely tucked in to a too small bikini top.
“I won’t take up any more of your time,” Bevey says, and when I turn to her I catch a knowing grin on her face.
“Don’t be silly. I enjoy spending time with you.”
“Something tells me there is someone else you’d rather be spending time with.”
I cock my head, a playful challenge. “Then you’d be wrong.”
She laughs and stands. “You’re selling, but I’m not buying,” she says. I just laugh and follow her back inside the house. The cool air-conditioning dries the moisture on my flesh. “You’ll be attending the Carnival in the village, yes?” I open my mouth, and she cuts me off. “You need to work less and play harder.”
“Have you been talking to Granddad?”
She laughs. “He’s a wise old man, Will. You should listen to him.”
I glance at my watch. “I would listen to him if he’d ever call me back.”
We head to the front door, and I give her a hug to see her off. Back inside, I’m about to go to my den but instead find myself wandering to the deck. I lean on the rail and look out, but Khloe is no longer in the pool. Now she’s making her way down the wooden steps that lead to the ocean. A warm breeze washes over me as I enjoy the view—and I’m not talking about Magdalen Bay.
Khloe steps into the water, slowly going deeper. For a moment, she disappears in the rough waves, then she jumps to the surface a little farther out. Her squeal of delight carries in the breeze and reaches my ears. It brings a smile to my face. I tug at my T-shirt and consider joining her, but that could only lead to trouble. It’s best I lock myself away in my office and get some work done. That and I should call and check on Granddad again.
I pull my phone from my back pocket, but my heart jumps into my throat when Khloe’s squeals of delight turn into a cry of pain.
What the hell?
She disappears under the water, and I take off running. I bolt through the house, push open the door leading to the lower back deck and take the steps to the ocean two at a time. I tug off my shirt and toss it as I go, then kick off my shoes. I reached the edge of the water and search for Khloe, but Jesus, I can’t find her. As full-blown panic burns through my blood, I splash into the surf and dive under. I swim, search, the salt water stinging my eyes. I break through the surface for air and catch a glimpse of Khloe trying to swim ashore.
“Khloe!” I call out.
“Will,” she whimpers, and I hurry to her. Her lips are twisted, and tears prick her eyes, but I can’t see any physical injuries. “What happened?”
“My leg. I don’t know what happened.”
I scoop her up and fight the tugging waves as I carry her back to the shore as quickly as possible. The second the sand goes from wet