The Billionaire's Proposal(4)

By: Avery James



But she was there on business, not to flirt with unusually attractive men. She wondered what Amy or Callie would think if they had seen her acting like a teenager.

A moment later, she had her answer. “Can I help you?” she heard someone say. She turned around and realized it was the concierge.

“Margaret Walsh, checking in,” she said. “Though the reservation might be under Haven.”

The concierge typed as quickly as she spoke, but he straightened his posture a bit upon the mention of the name Haven. “Pardon me, Ms. Walsh,” the concierge said. “It appears your reservation has been flagged.”

“Flagged?” Maggie asked.

The concierge tapped on the shoulder of the woman next to him and whispered something in her ear. “I apologize for the inconvenience. Your suite will be ready momentarily.”

Maggie looked at him. She wondered if there was a mistake. In situations like this, it was best just to go with the flow. “Of course,” she said. She turned around to take a look around the lobby, but she didn’t see Charming. When Maggie turned around, the woman was back at the concierge’s side, carrying a large wicker basket, loaded to the brim with fruit and what looked to be small bottles of alcohol.

The concierge handed Maggie a note along with her room key. We’re thrilled to have you on our team. Enjoy yourself this weekend, you’ve earned it. Oh, and enjoy the view. See you on Monday morning! —Amy & Callie. P.S. Abby says that if you don’t come back with a tan or a sunburn there will be consequences. Have fun. That’s an order.

Maggie laughed and shook her head as she read the note a second time. Have fun. She had her answer. She looked back across the lobby again to where Charming had been, wondering if she could summon the courage to flirt with a guy she knew she’d never see again, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“If you’d be so kind as to follow me,” the concierge said. “I will show you to your room. I think you’ll find it to your liking.”

When Maggie stepped into her room, she could barely believe what she saw. Her suite was enormous, and there were sets of doors with plantation shutters that led out to a balcony with sweeping beach and ocean views. Maggie stepped outside to take in the view. The salty ocean air washed over her, and she knew she was in paradise. She sat down on a lounge, closed her eyes and listed to the lull of the ocean lapping at the beach. Yeah, she could get used to this. She started to drift off to a state of relaxation, nodding off until her cell phone started buzzing. She looked at the screen. Abby was calling from the office.

“Hello?” she asked.

“Is it beautiful?” Abby asked. “Did you get the basket?”

“I got the basket,” Maggie said. “Was that your idea?”

“All Amy,” she said. “It’s part of her kinder, gentler workplace thing.”

“Even the rum?” Maggie asked.

“That one might have been me,” Abby said, “with a little input from Amy’s aunt. Don’t worry, Maggie, I got approval.”

“Do you really expect me to get drunk by myself?” Maggie asked.

“No, I expect you to find some handsome man and ply him with alcohol. Have you met anyone yet?”

Maggie sighed. “I’m here on business.”

“Not until Monday,” Abby said. “You’re on vacation for the next two days on Amy and Callie’s dime. And you didn’t answer my question.”

“You’re right, I didn’t,” Maggie said.

“Is there someone? There is!” Abby said. Maggie could hear the excitement growing in her voice. “Get some while you still can. Sunday evening, you corral Gavin Howard and bring him back. Monday morning, your ass belongs to your job.”

“We’ll see,” Maggie replied. “There was definitely something. Hey, while I have you, can you send through the non-Crayola-ed version of the file for me? You know, the one you were supposed to give me this morning.”

“Only if you promise to have fun tonight.”

“I promise,” Maggie said.

“I need photographic proof. Beach selfie, and you’ll get your file.”

“You’re crazy, you know that, right?”

“You’re in Key West at a hotel with a private beach, and you’re not on the beach, and I’m the one who’s crazy? What’s the temp there?”

“Eighty,” Maggie said.

“Beach selfie,” Abby said, “and I’ll send through the updated file to you tomorrow.”

“Fine,” Maggie said. “Thank you, by the way. For everything, I mean.”

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