The office phone rang and Gordon excused himself to answer. Jeannette took a stroll around the living room, admiring various knick-knacks and pictures and then she paused, doing another survey. No pictures of Deborah. There were photos of Gordon with presumably notable guests, a frame shot of an elderly couple signed, with love, mom and dad, but nothing of Deborah.

She wandered toward the kitchen and did a little snooping at the appliances, and the cozy dining area beside it. Four wicker-backed chairs and a round table sat amid more, interesting paintings and a lovely stand with an ornate vase of artificial flowers. More photos of Gordon and guests by the pool but still none of Deborah. She shook her head and enjoyed the silky feel of hair around her cheek and shoulder. Gordon came back and called her name.

"Sorry, I was being nosy."

"No problem. Want to see the rest?"

She looked at him, and other than the bathroom and the bedroom, she'd seen it all. "What else is there?"

The den, the laundry area, the bath . . . the bedroom. Upstairs."

"You have a den?"

"Sure, it was a small bedroom but we don't need two so--" He stepped past her and beckoned her to follow, missing the look at his remark about, we.

"Oh my," she remarked, leaning from the landing at the top of the stairs into the doorway of the tiny, book filled room. Gordon stood behind her holding his breath. A small desk with a computer and all the necessary peripherals stood in one corner and a very masculine leather easy chair with an ottoman flanked it. A side table, a portable phone and a large pottery tub that was a wastebasket completed the décor. Aside from more photos—still sans Deborah—the room was extremely cozy and private looking.

"This is your hideaway I presume."

"It is. I come here to contemplate strategies and devise my plans for going forward. This is where I came up with the proposals I made to the Chamber."

She laughed and turned to see that he wasn't. "Oops, did I make a social faux pas?'

"No, don't be silly." He started to move to the other door and then thought better of it. "It's a bit untidy, I think we can pass on the bedroom."

"Pity." The dim light in the hallway was enough to catch the glint from her moist lips and when she moved against him he took her in his arms and kissed her tenderly and then hungrily as he felt her respond.

"Gordon," she panted, breaking away. "I don't think we can do this."

"I can."

"I mean, what about Deborah?" She stayed pressed against him and he blinked.

"Deborah doesn't own me." He pressed back, lips seeking her neck and fragrant hair.

"Then what about my husband?" The voice was calm and in control.

Gordon turned to stone as she disengaged from his embrace. His arms still curled as if holding her but his face set in shock and horror.

"Husband?" He rasped. A vision of Clifford Whyst loomed in his mind's eye. The wealthiest man in the desert, if not the country. How could he have forgotten?

Jeannette ran her hands over her hips and took a breath. "Clifford Whyst? I believe you've heard of him?"

"I knew . . . didn't think . . . oh, God, I am so sorry."

"I understand, Gordon. Deborah has upset you and you're feeling vulnerable; maybe even vengeful."

He frowned. Actually I'm feeling horny but this curiously sudden, husband bit, has taken away the fun. "Maybe we should just call it a night. I'll put a hold on those rooms. I uh, I'll need a deposit."

She went back to the living room and got her purse. "A hundred okay?"

"Perfect. Thank you. When uh- when will they be coming in?"

"Around three. They'll check in, get changed and head to my place. The party should end around one at the latest."

"No problem, we don't have a curfew. Unless they come rolling in roaring drunk." He smiled to lighten the joke.

"Well you never know." She returned his smile and then placed a cool hand on his cheek. "I want you to know, Gordon, that was a very tender moment for me and I'll treasure it."

"Oh- well- thanks. Me too."

She leaned forward and kissed him again then waved goodnight and left. He stayed rooted, fingers feeling the lingering sensation on his lips. How did I not remember she was married? He scolded himself then stopped. Why do I think I should care? He went to the office and turned on the No Vacancy sign; he wasn't up to working any more tonight.

********************

Tuesday, and a stranger wouldn't believe there had been any rain for months. Flowers sagged in the morning heat and everything was bone dry and beige, including Gordon. He woke up at the sound of the telephone but before he could answer it stopped and mid curse he heard someone talking.

"I'm sorry I can only offer you two nights in that suite this weekend, we have accepted bookings for a special occasion that tie up the Friday night."

Gordon plodded to the office door and stared at Deborah's tanned legs in her hot short shorts, seated at the desk with the booking sheet. When she hung up he muttered a good morning and asked when she came back.

"I left time enough for your tour to be completed." Frosty.

"My tour, as you call it, ended right after you left. You read the whole thing wrong, Deb." He felt a shot of guilt over omitting the kiss. "Besides, it's not like we're married. I mean you and your girlfriends don't get hassled by me when you all go clubbing together."

She twiddled the pen in her fingers, then leaned an arm over the back of the chair and stretched her t-shirt beyond physics.

"You're right. I'm wrong. It's just that this partnership has strayed beyond business between us and sometimes I get territorial."

"Territorial. I like that." This was a moderate Deborah he hadn't seen before.

"Buzz off, Hardy." She tossed the pen down and stood up, tugging the shirt back into shape.

"Are you saying that neither of us should be overly concerned about the other's behaviour?"

"No, I'm not-- but then perhaps we should consider that route."

"Look, Deb, we have a good partnership in a good little business. It won't help to complicate things with emotions. I feel really lucky to have met you down here and discovered a kindred spirit in the running of a small hotel. Really." He watched her eyes soften and she turned the point of one foot on the floor. He braced for some trap.

"Me too, Gordon. I really do like running this place with the philosophy we share. It's kind of like a time machine for a lot of people. I've seen them stagger in with no expectations because we aren't mainstream and after one night they've stopped me on the patio or even phoned up to say how surprised and delighted they are about the place."

They both fell silent and just looked out the office window to the pool court and patio. When they had met two years ago at an open house for the new Colonial Palm Hotel, the towns largest and most prestigious addition to the community, they had both expressed similar views to the staff who were handing out questionnaires and an idle comment from a member about the two of them getting together led to exactly that.

They introduced themselves and chatted about the new hotel, the industry in general and how they would run a place if they had one. They had dinner together, talked more about their dreams and then enjoyed a vigorous romp in one the new hotel's suites. Seven months later, Gordon approached Deborah about a partnership in a small hotel he was buying. He needed help, not money, but a little investment wouldn't hurt.

In a flash Deborah agreed, supplying no money, but an overwhelming enthusiasm and a rolled-sleeves approach to the decorating and maintaining of the place. She did more than her share of the office work and used her few contacts to drum up advertising freebies for the other new hotel in town, the Posada de Jardines. The recreational sex was a side perk.

"So," he said, breaking the spell. "Are we okay?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry I was so bitchy."

"No, that's okay. I have to admit to a certain elevation of blood temperature when I'm around Jeannette. She is an extremely sexy woman." This was delivered with a purpose, and succeeded when he saw her wry smile.

"Sexy maybe. Available, not."

Gordon laughed. Oh really? "I think you're right about that. She's married."

"Like I didn't know."

"Of course," Gordon winced.

"I have to shower and get dressed, are you here for a while?"

"I'm a partner aren't I?"

"The best." He leaned toward her and dropped a peck on her cheek. "Won't be long."

"I'll be outside sweeping up our disintegrating flagstones."