The Billionaire's Kiss

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Orla

“All I want to do is sleep the remainder of the day away so I can find out what this Austin nightlife is all about.” I couldn’t keep the excitement—or the exhaustion—out of my voice. Though I couldn’t wait to start exploring, the nine-and-a-half-hour flight from Ireland to Texas had been brutal, leaving me jetlagged to the max.

The group I was traveling with was twenty strong, and it took two vans to take us from the airport to Whispers Resort and Spa in Austin, Texas. We’d traveled all night, arriving at our destination at ten in the morning. We were staying seven nights, and I hoped to have fun every single one of them. I’d worked my a*s off for an entire year just to be able to afford a week’s vacation.

They said everything was bigger in Texas, and I wanted to see that for myself. As we pulled up to the front entrance of the new resort, I couldn’t even see the top of the building, it was so high. So far, Texas was living up to the hype.

We piled out of the vans, the majority of us still yawning and stretching, and porters came out in droves to unload our luggage, greeting us as they got straight to work. “Welcome to Whispers, y’all.”

Moving with the crowd toward the double glass doors that slid open for us, I gazed at the lobby, as did everyone else. It was modern, stylish, and well-lit.

Working at a resort in Ireland myself, I loved visiting other resorts to see how mine compared. So far, this one was winning. But I wasn’t ready to concede yet. To me, a great resort experience means getting along with the staff, so I was eager to see how friendly they were. Our staff was amazingly friendly and a real point of pride for me. I had my doubts about Americans being able to offer as high a standard of courtesy as we Irish did.

“Hello, Kenmare citizens,” I heard a man call out. Though other people in my group were blocking my view of the new arrival, his deep voice reached all the way to the tips of my toes. “Welcome to Whispers Resort and Spa. I am Warner Nash, one of the owners of this fine place and the man who helped make your trip happen.”

Craning my neck to see the man to whom the voice belonged—one so smooth and deep, with a touch of what I could only assume was a Texas accent—I caught a glimpse of him as he came our way.

He was easy on the eyes, standing at a bit over six feet, with his broad shoulders giving him a rather powerful appearance. Beneath his dark hair, which was short and neatly combed to the side with the part on the left, his clean-shaven face glowed under the enormous crystal chandelier that hung above us. A black suit, with matching matte black dress shoes and a pale blue button-down underneath the jacket, brought out the blue in his kind eyes.

Eyes that found mine. As soon as our gazes met, he zoomed in on me. “I hope your trip was a pleasant one.”

As he looked at me, I slipped through the others to get to the front. “It wasn’t too bad,” I said with a grin.

“Glad to hear that, Miss—?” he asked for my name.

“Orla Quinn.” He was so young and handsome, too. I was surprised to see he was so young, considering his relationship with this amazing place. “You said you’re the owner here?” I blurted out.

“I am. My four brothers and I own this fine establishment,” pride resonated in his smooth voice. Looking at him—listening to him—was an experience. It reminded me of the Jameson Bow Street 18 Years Irish whiskey.

As a barmaid, I often found myself thinking in terms of liquor. “But you’re so young.”

“Just turned thirty-one on the fifth of December last month,” he said. “Nice of you to notice.”

“Mind yourself, Orla,” came the voice of Lilith O’Hare from behind me. “We’re all ready to get to our rooms, girl.”

The young owner’s eyes were still on me. “I’ll get out of your way so you can all check in and get to your rooms. If anyone would like a tour of this grand facility, I’ll be in my office over there.” He pointed to a grey door with his name on a brass plate at the top of it. “Feel free to stop by anytime you like.”

I watched him walk away, biting my lower lip. I had just met the man, and he was already making things quiver within me. I liked it.

Wasting no time, I checked myself in, then headed to his office. He intrigued me to no end, and my feet wouldn’t hear of going anywhere other than straight to him.

With a swift knock, I asked, “Can I come in?”

The door opened, and there he stood. Being that close to him allowed me to take in his height up close as he towered over my five-foot-five frame. I didn’t want to have to crane my neck as I looked up at him, so I took a step back.

“Orla, right?” he asked with a smile. Perfect teeth, white as any pearl, gleamed against his lips. The lower one a bit plumper than the upper, his lips looked utterly kissable.

I had to stop looking at his mouth lest he thinks me a tramp, so I moved my eyes to his gorgeous blue ones. “Yes, Orla Quinn from Kenmare, County Kerry, Ireland. I work at a luxury resort and spa in Kenmare called Sheen Falls Lodge. I’m a barmaid at the Sheen Cocktail Bar. I’d love a tour of this grand hotel of yours, Mr. Nash.”

“Mister?” Shaking his head, it was obvious he’d have none of that. “You call me Warner. You’re not that much younger than I am. Or so I think.”

“I’m twenty-seven. All four years separate us. I suppose I can call you by your first name, Warner.” I couldn’t recall ever being so drawn to someone. Looking over my shoulder, I saw the rest of my group heading to the elevators. “They’re all too tired to take a tour right now.” I’d been dreadfully tired upon arrival. But now that I’d met him, all that jetlag had somehow disappeared. “No need to wait.”

Offering me his arm, he smiled as I looped mine through. “Then tour, we shall.” Stepping away from his office, he said, “Ask me all the questions you want. I adore your accent, Orla.”

“I find yours quite adorable as well.” I’d always found it easy to talk to people, even if I’d just met them. I had to, working in the field I did—it made it impossible to be shy. “Do they call that a southern accent or a Texas accent?”

“It’s distinctly Texan.” He chuckled. “As Texans, we don’t really cotton to being thrown in with all the rest of the southern states. We’re kind of prideful in that way. How do things like that go in Ireland?”

“Kenmare is in Northern Ireland. There are many differences between us and those who call the Republic of Ireland their home,” I informed him. “Our accents are different, as well. People from the Republic have what most people consider the quintessential Irish accent. In Northern Ireland, we’ve been influenced by the Irish, Scottish, and English, so our accents show that influence. And, of course, we think our accents are far better than those of the southern dwellers.”

“Ah, so you can understand why Texans consider themselves a cut above the rest of the other southern states.” Turning to take me down a long corridor, he went on, “This is the way to Whispers bar. So, tell me, what makes Northern Ireland different from the Republic of Ireland? Is there some sort of a border or something like that between the two?”

“Not a physical one. One of the things people who visit Ireland talk about is how they’ll be motoring along and all the road signs are in kilometers. Then suddenly, the road signs change to miles. When you see those types of signs, it means you’ve entered Northern Ireland.”

“That’s how it is between the states here in America—aside from the change from metric to miles.” He shook his head, contradicting his statement. “But there aren’t any checkpoints the way there are when you cross into a new country. You just see a sign that says you’re in another state, is all.”

“But in America, you all use the same type of money, right?”

“We do.”

“In the Republic, they use euros, and in Northern Ireland, we use pounds, as England does. It makes it a bit complicated for tourists.”

“I bet it does.” He pushed open a set of heavy wooden doors with etched glass at the top. One had Whispers written in green on it. Also in green letters, the other had the word Bar. “Here we are. Tell me what you think about the bar.”

The room was full of natural lighting thanks to a wall of windows, making it feel nothing like the one I worked at. “This is different,” I exclaimed. I was used to dimly lit bars with heavy, dark wooden accents. Here, the bar was made of white marble with pale grey streaks in it. The lights above it ran the entire length of the long bar, making it sparkle and shine. “It’s appealing.”

“I know it’s not what most people are used to in a bar. We were going for something unique here. With the spa in mind, we wanted this bar to be airier and brighter than most bars.”

The barstools looked comfortable, with dark grey leather covering the seats and a high back made of stainless steel for patrons to lean back against. “The seating is great. I love those comfy barstools and there’s a nice intimacy to having those small sofas facing each other with a low table in between. It’s like being at home.”

“You have to see this place at night. We’ve got the coolest lights outside that bleed into the bar. It’s like it’s a completely different place.”

“I will have to come see it tonight.”

“Let me get you something to sip on while we take our tour.” He walked up to the bartender and held up two fingers. “Can you get us two flutes of champagne, Gerald?”

“Of course I can, Warner.”

“You come here a lot?” I asked as I took a seat at the bar.

“No. I’m not much of a drinker.” He took the seat next to mine as the glasses were placed in front of us. Picking his up, he held it mid-air.

I took mine and held it up too. “What are we toasting, Warner?”

“To you having the best vacation ever, Orla Quinn.” He clanked his glass against mine before taking a sip.

I sipped mine then put it back on the bar. “You certainly know how to treat your guests.” I had the feeling that he might be the kind that picks out a woman in every large group that came in. “The women must love you.”

Shrugging, he took another sip before putting his glass down. “I don’t know about that.” His cell phone went off inside his jacket pocket, and he pulled it out. “It’s my assistant.” He swiped the screen. “Yes, Jezzy? Oh, I see. Yes, I’ll come back right now.” Putting the phone back into his pocket, he picked up his glass. “Seems some people in your group would like a tour after all. We’ll have to go back to get them. Grab your drink and come with me.”

Disappointment filled me as we left the bar to get the others. “I thought they were all tired,” I mumbled.

“Guess they found some reserve of energy. Or maybe they were just more excited about seeing this place than taking a nap.” His laughter echoed in the corridor as we walked at a fast pace.

“Seems so,” I didn’t even try to hide my disappointment. It felt nice being alone with him. And now I’d have to share him—and I didn’t care for that at all.

As we walked back into the lobby, I saw Mona Pendragon with her mother, waiting for us. Cecil O’Conner and his wife, Angel, were there too.

I knew Mona well enough to know what she was up to. Warner’s good looks hadn’t passed unnoticed by her. The brunette had been hunting hard and heavy for a man she could call her own, and her efforts had only increased ever since she entered her thirties a few years ago. She waved, wiggling her fingers in the air. “Over here, Warner.”

I waved back at her. “We see you, dear.” Whispering, I leaned close to Warner, “Watch out for her, she’s in heat.”

A burst of laughter erupted from his lips as he looked at me. “Is she, now? Thanks for the warning.”

Walking over to us, Mona extended her hand long before she was close enough to actually shake Warner’s. “Mona Pendragon. Like King Arthur Pendragon. It’s believed we’re direct descendants.”

Warner shook her hand politely. “Was he real? I was under the impression that he was just a character in a book written many centuries ago.”

“Are you a scholar as well as a magnate?” Mona asked him, a slight frown on her pouting mouth.

“I wouldn’t say so, but I have gone to college, and I have studied literature. But enough about me.” He looked at the rest of the group as more people got off the elevator. “Will you be joining us on tour?” he asked them.

Nodding, six more people joined us, making us quite the bunch. “We should go before more show up,” I muttered before taking a sip of champagne.

Mona’s eyes were on my drink. “Oh, goody,” she said with her shrill, nasally voice. “We get free drinks on this tour.”

Suddenly, I didn’t feel nearly as special as I had a few minutes before. The brochure had said the resort gave out free drinks to the guests, I remembered.

Given that I had a job similar to his, I should’ve known that Warner had to be nice to me. I thought that he might’ve had the hots for me, but nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

At least I had the alcohol to cool the embarrassment that swept through my body. “Back to the bar we go, then,” I muttered under my breath.

Warner didn’t offer me his arm this time. He led the pack back to the corridor as he rambled on about the tons of concrete that went into building the resort. And something was said about the zillions of lights that lit up the place.

I got lost in the back of the group as the jetlag came rushing back. As we neared the bar, I looked back, thinking about turning and going up to my room to take a nap. My feet kept shuffling forward though, as if they wanted to go on the tour that was no longer just for me.

A hand on my shoulder made my head turn back to the front. There stood Warner, a smile on his handsome face. “How about you get behind the bar and make me one of your specialties?”

I smiled, thinking maybe I was getting the special treatment after all.