Penthouse Suite Read Online Free Page B

swung around to lie back on her bed, still wrapped in the huge towel. “Go along with you now. I’m going straight to sleep. Just be back at eight o’clock tonight and wear a party dress. We’re going to have dinner with my nephew.”
    “Mrs. Jarrett, I am the in-house maintenance department, and as far as I know, I’ll be on duty tonight. Besides, the closest thing I own to a dinner dress is a purple satin nightgown my cousin sent me from Texas. Why on earth would you want me to have dinner with your nephew?”
    “Because he needs to learn his way around too. My nephew is a stick-in-the-mud. He’s very shy, never gets out. He has no fun friends. I’m dreadfully worried about him. About the only person he ever sees is me.”
    “Mrs. Jarrett, it would be very wrong for you to try and arrange something between me and your nephew. I’m only going to be at the hotel for two weeks, and I’m not interested in meeting a man.”
    “Nonsense! The hotel staff always humors me. I just pull my helpless old woman routine, and they do what I want. And I need you. Getting about without my companion isn’t really safe at my age. You saw what happened yesterday.”
    The woman was a master, playing on Kate’s guilt when she didn’t appear ready to agree. Kate wondered what she’d let herself in for, then chastised herself for thinking unkind thoughts about this grandmotherly widow who had the entire hotel staff under her thumb.
    “Good, it’s settled. Eight o’clock tonight, Kate. You won’t be sorry, I promise.”
    Kate wasn’t certain that she’d actually agreed to go to dinner, but until she could figure out a way to outmaneuver Mrs. Jarrett, she appeared to bestuck. She locked Mrs. Jarrett’s door, then punched the elevator button.
    Kate realized what a sorry sight she was—her coveralls soaking wet, her hair splattered with soap bubbles. Remembering Mr. Sorrenson’s request the previous night that she not be seen by the hotel guests, she hoped that it was early enough so that no one was around. If the hotel had had a service elevator, she wouldn’t have had any problem, she thought as the elevator doors opened. Stepping inside, she felt an uncomfortable trickle of water run down her leg and into her shoe. Her eyes, focused on the water circling on the carpet, caught sight of a pair of familiar bare feet and legs.
    The air left her lungs in a whoosh as she raised her gaze. Max Sorrenson wasn’t totally nude this time, but he might as well have been. The swimsuit he was wearing was smaller than his frown.
    Max Sorrenson had decided that physical exercise was the way to deal with the inexplicable frustration that kept him awake.
    Dorothea had been out all evening. He couldn’t seem to settle down to any serious work. By the time he’d decided to take a swim, it was early morning.
    Becoming involved with an employee was something he’d never allowed himself to do. Certainly he’d never lost sight of time, missed an appointment, or put on two different shoes. In fact, Max had been careful to keep his distance from anything more than a casual relationship with a woman. It wasn’t that he didn’t like women. He did—very much. Or at least he enjoyed them for atime. Then, invariably, they became too possessive, and the time came for him to move on.
    What had happened with this new employee had caught him by surprise. Until he was able to resolve the situation in his mind, he’d be unable to concentrate on anything else.
    He’d spent an hour sitting at his kitchen table talking to a woman who knew more about plumbing than he did and who repaired her own automobile as well. He’d be rational about this, impersonal. She was an employee, he wouldn’t call her by name. Using her name made her real. And yet he couldn’t forget how she’d stood up to him. How alive she’d been. How alive she’d made him feel.
    Even as he told himself that he’d be impersonal, her face drifted back into focus. She’d had