Their Festive Island Escape. Nina Singh
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the men.
Her eyes suddenly narrowed on his face. “Do I know you?” she demanded.
Reid hesitated. For the briefest moment, he debated telling her exactly who he was. The look on her face when she found out would be a sight to see.
Ultimately, he decided against it. What would be the point? She was a paying guest after all. She was entitled to the tropical vacation she had paid for. The resort was large and expansive. The beach alone covered over a mile. If he played his cards right, they would never have to run into each other again for the duration of her stay. In fact, he vowed to make sure of it.
He shrugged. “Everyone knows me. I’m Santa Claus.”
She studied him some more. Part of him wanted her to figure it out. Finally, she blew out a deep breath. “Right. Well, Santa. I’d like to go get a cup of coffee.” With that, she brushed against his arm in her haste to get past him. An enticing scent of coconut and sun-kissed skin tickled his nose. Some kind of static electricity shot through his elbow and clear down his side.
“Merry Christmas, princess.”
He spoke to her back as she stormed off. Her gait hastened as she walked past the breakfast cabana and instead veered toward the residential suite area. Apparently, she’d lost her appetite for the cup of coffee. That thought sent a tingle of guilt through his center.
Reid rubbed a hand down his face as he watched her walk away. Damn it. What had he just done? He thought about going after her to apologize. Now that he thought about it, he had to admit he’d been less than professional just now. As the newly minted co-owner of the Baja Majestic Resort on the beautiful island of Jamaica, he owed it to all of his guests to treat them well, regardless of any past history. He had no excuse. He’d just been so surprised to see her lying there, the recognition had thrown him off.
But he had to make sure not to slip up like that again. He couldn’t forget how important his role was here. No one else was going to get this place up to the standards that the Evanson clientele expected. His father certainly wasn’t up to the task. In fact, his father seemed to be doing everything possible to run the family hospitality business into the ground. A gambler through and through, his fraternal parent took way too many chances, risked too many valuables. The cleanup always fell to Reid. This current project being no exception.
He couldn’t allow himself to forget how much responsibility he bore. An entire conglomerate of employees, contract workers, and their dependents relied on Evanson Hotels and Resorts for their livelihoods and their future. Not to mention his own parents.
And he’d just gone and insulted a valuable, paying guest.
As much as he hated to admit it, he would have to make up for his behavior. He had to somehow atone for the way he’d just treated Celeste Frajedi.
Merry Christmas, princess.
The derisive words repeatedly echoed through her head as Celeste fled to her deluxe suite and slammed the door behind her. Walking over to the glass screen door leading to the third-floor balcony, she pulled aside the curtains to let the bright sunshine in. He hands were shaking, she realized with no small amount of dismay. He’d rattled her. When was the last time she’d actually felt thrown by a man? Or anyone else, for that matter? Her mother notwithstanding.
Perhaps a better question was why had she let the likes of a pretend Santa Claus in an ill-fitting suit and a side-skewed beard get to her so badly?
There was something about the way he’d looked at her. He clearly hadn’t liked what he’d seen. Had her feelings regarding the noisy children been so obvious? She hadn’t realized she’d shown any outward signs that she’d been bothered by them but clearly the man had picked up something. He’d called her a scrooge!
Never mind that his labeling of her as such was perilously close to the truth. Still, her attitude to Christmas was none of his business. How dare he treat her the way he had? Her ire and irritation shot up even further as she thought of the derision in his eyes as he’d studied her.
His negative view of her seemed way out of proportion to whatever imagined slight he’d witnessed. It was as if he’d disliked her on sight. Which brought back the question: Why had he seemed so familiar to her?
Celeste shook off the query. The answer hardly mattered. She had no doubt the upper-level management in charge of the resort would be appalled if they knew of the actions of their character actor employee. She was in the very business of appealing to consumers as a professional marketer. The faux Santa’s behavior would be considered a nightmare to any business leader. That was no way to treat any customer.
Still, the encounter shouldn’t have shaken her up as much as it had. She was a professional, after all. And she’d certainly suffered through worse humiliation. The best thing to do would be to try to just forget about the whole incident and put it completely behind her. She would chalk it up to yet one more instance of a negative holiday memory. As if she needed any more of those.
With a calming inhalation of breath, she sank to the carpeted floor. She would meditate until the whole interaction with the wayward St. Nick was nothing more than a mere ghost of a thought in her head. Relaxing all her muscles, she began to count down from ten. Then she did nothing but clear her mind.
It wasn’t easy.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Celeste had no idea how much time had passed before the annoying knocking roused her out of her deep state of meditative trance. Was it too much to ask for just some calming time after the morning she’d had? Apparently, this day was just going to be one irritation after another.
“Room service,” came a soft, feminine voice from the other side of her door.
It took a moment to reorient as Celeste forced herself to stand from her cross-legged sitting position on the floor. Her leg muscles screamed in protest at the abrupt movement as she walked to the door.
“There’s been some kind of mistake,” she said to the petite uniformed woman standing outside with a cart. “I haven’t ordered any room service.”
The woman smiled as she shook her head. “This is on the house, madam.” Without waiting for acknowledgment, she wheeled the cart toward the center of the room.
“I don’t understand?”
The woman’s smile didn’t falter as she answered. “No charge, madam. Compliments of the resort.” She handed her an envelope that had sat in the middle of the tray. With that, she pivoted on her heel and left the room.
Celeste blinked in confusion at the shut door before understanding dawned. Sure enough, when she read the note, her suspicion was confirmed.
Please accept this complimentary gesture as a token of appreciation and regret that you may have been inconvenienced in any way this morning.
Sincerely, The Baja Majestic Resort.
Someone in upper management must have witnessed the unpleasantness between her and Santa earlier this morning. She studied the goodies before her on the food service cart. They’d certainly made an effort to appease her. A silver carafe of steaming hot coffee sat in the center of the tray. A chilled bottle of champagne sent a curl of frost into the air. Orange juice and a variety of pastries rounded out the offerings. Not bad at all as a conciliatory gesture. Someone was trying hard to make things up to her. A foolish part of her felt guilty that perhaps bad Santa might have been chastised harshly by his superiors. Or even worse, that he’d been fired.
He may have been an overbearing clod, but he didn’t deserve to have his livelihood jeopardized. She would have to look into that. The desk attendant in the concierge lounge would surely know exactly what had transpired and the ultimate outcome that had led to the