“I’m serving that night. I can slip you an invitation.”
So he waited on people for a living, too. “Won’t that jeopardize your job?”
He shrugged. “I’m not worried. It’s a temporary thing anyway.”
Still, something felt wrong. Jessie stood and said, “Well, thanks anyway, but I don’t have anything to wear.”
“What if I can get you something?”
She cocked her head to the side, baffled. “How?”
“You wouldn’t believe the things people leave behind in high-end hotels. I found this watch once, cost about two thousand dollars. Some guy just left it on the counter in the bathroom.”
“Didn’t you try and get it back to him?”
“It was in the lobby bathroom. We left it in the lost and found for months, but no one claimed it.”
“So you took it.”
“No, I wore it a couple of times, then I put it back.”
He borrowed it. “Are you saying women leave evening gowns at the hotel?”
“All the time.” His boyish smile was growing on her. It wasn’t as if she’d find a rich husband, or boyfriend for that manner, waiting tables at Denny’s.
“I don’t know…”
Jack stood and stepped close to her. He was a good four inches taller than she was, and Jessie wasn’t exactly short.
“What are you, a size eight, ten?”
“Eight, not that it’s any of your—”
“Business,” he finished for her. “I know.” His white teeth flashed in a grin. “Shoe size?”
She was still stuck on giving out her dress size to a stranger. At nearly five eight, being a size eight was perfect. Still, saying it aloud left a bad taste behind her tongue.
“Well?”
“What was the question?”
“Shoe size?”
“They leave shoes, too?”
“Sometimes.”
“Seven. I wear a seven in shoes.” That was easier to say.
“We’re good then.”
“I don’t know.”
“Come on, Jessie. What do you have to lose? A fancy night out, plenty of champagne, wine, shrimp cocktail, fruit, cheese, the works. All free.”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not working, Leanne already told me.”
Jessie shot Leanne a dirty look from across the restaurant. “Traitor,” she mumbled.
Jack nudged her with his elbow. “I’ll bring the dress Thursday morning.”
“Geez, did Leanne tell you my whole schedule?”
“Pretty much. I’ll bring the dress and the invitation. All you have to do is show up.”
“I won’t know anyone.”
“You’ll know me.” He winked at her and her stomach did a small roll in return. What did she have to lose? She could show up, have a glass of wine, and leave if it felt wrong being there.
“Oh, all right. I’ll go.”
“That’s my girl.” Jack pulled out his wallet and placed a ten on the counter.
“I’m not your girl.”
Jack chuckled. “Right. See ya on Thanksgiving, Jessie.”
Chapter Three
Samuel Fields, the Ontario Morrison Hotel manager, sat behind the desk from Jack with his back rod-straight and his lips forced into a tight smile. His three-piece suit fit perfectly around his shoulders, his tie impeccably neat. He’d been the manager of the Ontario hotel for over ten years, since its inception. Unless the man wanted a different view, he’d be there for the next ten. “It feels strange with you on the other side of this desk, Mr. Morrison.”
“Not sure why that would bother you, Sam. This is your office, not mine.”
“Yes, I guess it is.”
“I’m really not one who lords over things. My stay in Ontario will keep me here throughout the holidays. Once the initial construction is set in motion for ‘More for Less,’ I’ll be returning to Texas.”
“It’s been some time since anyone in your family has used the penthouse suite. I hope it meets your needs.”
The penthouse family suite took up nearly half the west tower’s top floor. Like in all the Morrison hotels, the family suite was just that: a suite the family could use to either sleep in during an overnight stay or as a perk for the many dignitaries that Jack and his father, Gaylord, associated with throughout the world. The Morrisons informed the hotels when the suites would be used and allowed the hotels to book them on the other days of the year. The suite had three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a full gourmet chef’s kitchen, dining room, and living quarters. The veranda and patios overlooked the airport and the flickering lights of the Inland Empire. The space could easily accommodate a house party of a hundred people, not that Jack was planning such an event. Deep mahogany hardwood floors covered the living and dining rooms. Plush sofas sat across from each other while occasional chairs and heavily wooded wrought-iron tables filled out the space. Live plants filled corners, and fresh flowers sat in vases by the front door and in the kitchen. At night, when the floor-to-ceiling windows that covered two walls couldn’t let light in, up lighting, down lighting, and recessed lighting could be used to set any mood.
Unlike any other room at the hotel, this one felt like home.
In Houston, his home took the entire top-floor penthouse, nearly double the size of the one he was in now. Living in a hotel wasn’t something he’d planned. In reality, he lived in the hotel only half the year. The other half was spent at his father’s or in hotels like the one he was in now.