Last Tailored Suit Read online

  Jenna made a note to speak with the gardener. If she was going to create a bed and breakfast retreat, she’d need a beautiful and calming landscape. Not this.

  Yes, she’d definitely speak with him. She just hoped he’d understand the importance of what she envisioned. If not, she might have to let him go. Jenna frowned. She really hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She hated the thought of having to fire someone. But, Mr. Miller hired her to do a job, and she was going to do it. She was too afraid of the consequences not to do her very best.

  Jenna opened the laptop and found the email. It was all set up for her and had Mr. Miller’s contact information already saved. Perhaps she should email him to let him know she had arrived. She doubted the gardener had told him. It took her several attempts before she decided on a simple, straightforward message.

  Mr. Miller,

  I have arrived at the mansion and would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience. I am eager to start work and have come up with a few ideas of which I hope you will approve. I have stationed myself in the kitchen for the time being. You may find me there when you are ready to meet.

  Thank you for the opportunity to work with you.

  In regards,

  Jenna Newman

  Jenna sat back and reread the email. It was to the point and perhaps a bit stiff, but it did the job without making her sound too green. She hit send and sat back, waiting for a response.

  The gardener was outside now, she noticed as she looked out the window. He was heading to the cluster of hedges, eating up ground with his long strides.

  He stopped suddenly and pulled a phone out of his pocket.

  Jenna sighed. She hoped he wasn’t one of those employees who spent fifty percent of his workday goofing off on his phone. Clearly, Mr. Miller needed her to keep a stronger eye on the place and the employees.

  * * *

  Greyson read the email and groaned. The woman was daft. It almost made him want to dress in a suit and tie, shave off his beard, and stand menacingly in front of her like the “lord of the business world” that she was expecting. Would she finally figure it out then?

  He had no desire to do any such thing, however. If she believed he was the gardener, then so be it. He was not going to cater to whatever business fantasy she had cooked up in her mind. But, business was business, so he had to at least answer.

  Ms. Newman,

  I’m busy at the moment. Please send all ideas by email. I will consider them and get back to you. There is a folder in your laptop with your name on it. Included in the folder is a list of items that will need to be completed, as well as business contacts that you will need to reach out to in the coming weeks. It is all explained in detail. Should you still have questions, please let me know.

  Greyson Miller

  Greyson shoved the phone into his pocket and yanked a hedge out of a pot. Dirt flew in every direction.

  “Damn,” he muttered, wiping the spray of soil off his arms.

  At least the list would get the woman off his back for a few weeks. That list was a mile long. He’d made it incredibly detailed so that even an intern could follow along without confusion . . . or questions. He didn’t want any questions. He didn’t want to talk.

  Jenna Newman nearly made him rethink his plan. He could have just as easily sold the mansion to a private buyer. But, he had wanted this to be his one last project before setting off. It would get the need out of his system and then he could concentrate on the rest of his life. Whatever that would entail.

  * * *

  Jenna read Mr. Miller’s email with a twinge of disappointment. She knew he was a busy man, but he could have at least taken a few minutes to welcome her aboard in person. Well, no matter, she would get to work right away.

  Finding the file Mr. Miller referred to, she began reading the extensive list. He had it all mapped out with specifics. God, he must be a micromanager if this list was any indication. He obviously didn’t have faith in her skills to open the bed and breakfast on her own.

  Jenna sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She might as well get to work, beginning with the task she thought was the most important — obtaining permits – and the paperwork to become a company. Everything else could be done while the papers were in motion.

  However, there was no mention of the bed and breakfast’s name. She couldn’t very well fill out the papers without a business name.

  She hated to bother Mr. Miller, but how else was she going to start this enormous list without even the most basic information?

  Mr. Miller,

  I have reviewed the list and will begin right away. I don’t see any mention of a business name for the bed and breakfast. Please let me know what it is and I will see to the rest of the details.

  Jenna Newman

  Greyson swore. It’s already begun, he thought. Of course, she did have a valid reason for emailing. He had thought of everything except the obvious — a name for the bed and breakfast. Wiping his dirty hands on his jeans, he replied.

  Please come up with a few ideas for a name and forward them to me.

  Jenna frowned and closed her laptop. If she was going to name the bed and breakfast, she was going to have to get a better feel for the place. It wasn’t a hardship to explore this wonderful mansion, by any means. In fact, it was something she looked forward to. With that in mind, she stood and began her journey.

  She lost her way a few times as she walked from room to room, but there was only one time when she became disorientated. It had nothing to do with being lost, though; because she knew, without a doubt, what room she’d stumbled across.

  The enormous bedroom on the second floor, complete with fireplace, stately king-size bed, and spacious bathroom with a whirlpool tub, was most definitely the master suite, and the scent was exactly the same as that of the study.

  This was Greyson Miller’s room.

  It was as if walking into a different world. Sure, the suite was impressive, but there was something more to it. It felt as though he was standing in the room with her. If this was what it felt like to stand next to him, she was thankful that they hadn’t met after all. Her palms were sweaty, and her knees were oddly soft. It was the most bizarre reaction she had ever had. The knowledge that he would be sleeping only one floor below her in an otherwise empty mansion suddenly made her nervous.

  She stood in the center of the room and turned slowly, taking in every detail. This would be the last time she’d set foot in this room. She instinctively knew that she was in a man’s territory, and she would not cross the threshold again.

  But first . . .

  Jenna crossed over to the suite’s tiled and chromed bathroom and picked out two fresh, fluffy white towels from the cabinet. Her hospitality background was itching, making her do something that she probably shouldn’t do in this alpha male’s room.

  She couldn’t help herself.

  Chapter 3

  “Hi,” Jenna called as she crossed over rough ground, her stride quick and purposeful.

  Greyson gave a tight nod and kept working.

  “Are you sure you’re planting the hedge in the right spot?” she questioned.

  His jaw clenched before he glanced up. “I believe so.”

  “Maybe you should check with Mr. Miller,” she suggested. “Hedges normally frame the landscape.”

  “Your job is inside. My job is outside,” he gritted. “Let me do mine.”

  “It’s my job to oversee all aspects of the bed and breakfast, which includes the grounds as well.”

  Greyson sat back and wiped the dirt from his hands. What the hell had he gotten himself into? Never again will he attempt a project that required hiring someone. Employees were a nuisance and, more often than not, a hazard to his health. Even now, his chest tightened as this overbearing woman told him what her job was. He knew bloody well what her job was.

  Just ten minutes before, he had been prepared to go and find Jenna and set everything to rights. But now, he just wanted to di
g. And forget. And for her to go away. Was that too much to ask? It was as if she brought out the worst in him. A giant, snarling beast pushed against his chest, spurring him.

  “I’m following my landscaping design,” Greyson replied. “There’s no reason to concern yourself. It’ll be completed in time for the opening.”

  Jenna didn’t look convinced, but she ceased. Somehow he knew it wouldn’t be for long.

  “Do you know where I should park my car?” she finally asked.

  Greyson was relieved she changed the subject. He was reasonable enough to be hospitable to the annoying woman. For now. He stood and walked around her, giving them each a wide berth.

  “Meet me over at the garage,” he said. “There is an extra space that you can use.”

  She said a quick thank you and hurried to her car, which was still parked at the front door. He watched her cross the yard. Even her gait was purposeful. It had none of the soft sway that some women had. No, she was anything but soft.

  Greyson met Jenna at the garage, located fifty yards to the side of the mansion, and he opened the door for her. When she had parked and stepped out, he handed her a remote. “This remote will open each of the five garage doors. Each door has a separate button. I’m sure you can figure it out,” he said.

  “I’m sure I can,” she agreed, taking the remote from his outstretched hand and looking around. “Are all of these Mr. Miller’s cars?” she asked with a hint of awe.

  Greyson glanced over at his luxury and extremely expensive cars. While he enjoyed driving them, he didn’t use them all that often. “Yes,” was his one-word answer.

  “Will he need the space I’m parked in?”

  “No. It’s yours to use.”

  “Then he’s on property?” she asked, seeing as all of his cars were accounted for.

  Greyson took a breath and said, “Yes.”

  “Will you take me to him?”

  “I have work to do,” Greyson stated, turning to leave. He didn’t know why he didn’t just set the record straight right then and there.

  She grated on him, that was why. Let her believe what she wanted.

  Jenna reached out, touching Greyson’s dirt-filmed arm to stop him. She quickly yanked her hand away.

  Greyson took a step back to distance himself, keeping his gaze steady on her. She didn’t cower from his intense stare.

  Greyson knew he had a way of looking at a person to make them feel two inches tall . . . not that she wasn’t on the short side to begin with. He didn’t use the stare often, but it had helped with negotiations at times. When her brandy-colored eyes stared back at him without flinching, he was impressed.

  A little.

  “I’ll be on my way,” he said, turning away again.

  “What about meals?” she asked before he could escape. “Is there a cook, or should I go to the store?”

  “It’s just you and me,” he stated.

  “What about the man who left here this morning?” she asked.

  “That was my friend, Remy.”

  “Do your friends visit you here often?”

  “No, not often,” Greyson replied.

  Jenna gave a nod, but he could tell she was stewing about something. He had a feeling Mr. Miller was going to hear about it.

  “I’ll head to the store and make dinner tonight,” Jenna said. “Will you join me later?”

  Greyson wanted to say no, but instead said, “Yes. What time?” Being hospitable wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.

  “Will six o’clock be okay?” she asked.

  “That’ll be fine.” He glanced at his watch but had to wipe it clean before he could read it. It was four o’clock now. That’d give him enough time to plant one side of the maze’s frame. He was already hungry. “I’ll see you then.”

  She gave a nod and opened her car door.

  “Wait,” Greyson said, halting in mid-step. He couldn’t let her pay for the meals at his house, for his bed and breakfast. She had him so turned around that he nearly forgot. He pulled out his wallet and extracted a few bills. “Buy whatever you need.”

  Jenna took the three one-hundred-dollar bills with a quizzical brow. “I can’t accept this.”

  “Why not?”

  “You’re an employee,” she stated, holding out the money. “I’ll expense the meal as soon as I figure out the banking information.”

  Greyson didn’t take the money and instead turned his back, replying as he walked away. “Then use the money until you figure it out.”

  * * *

  Jenna stared at the retreating form with pinched lips. The man was a continued source of aggravation.

  And she still hadn’t asked him his name. Ugh!

  Jenna settled into her car and started the engine. What was he doing walking around with over three hundred dollars in his pocket? There was something about that that made her cautious. Could he be trusted? What if the money came from an illegal avenue? She’d have to keep her eye on him until she figured out exactly who he was. A few questions over dinner could prove helpful.

  And for him to have friends visiting on company time was completely against the rules — if there were any rules. She had a feeling that might be another item on her to-do list.

  Either way, she was secretly happy he gave her money. The truth was, she was tapped out. This job had come at the nick of time. Now, she could make a decent meal instead of buttered noodles.

  Her culinary skills weren’t the greatest, but she did have a few decent recipes in her repertoire. She had nearly asked the surly gardener if he could cook, but with the layer of soil on him, she wouldn’t want him anywhere near the kitchen.

  It was really too bad he didn’t clean himself up. She had a feeling there was a decent-looking man underneath all that dirt and scruff. If only he had some manners under there too.

  * * *

  It was five thirty when Greyson put away his gardening tools for the night. He rubbed his knotted shoulders as he walked back to the house. He had a half hour to scrub the dirt off. Some dirt was just too stubborn and only came off after a good, hour-long soak in his hot tub. God, that would feel great right now. But it would mean he would miss dinner. Not only would that be rude, but he was starving. On cue, his stomach growled fiercely.

  Greyson walked up the flight of stairs and into his room. He peeled off his clothes that were caked with soil and tossed them into the laundry basket. As he headed to the bathroom, he noticed something in the middle of his bed.

  On closer inspection, he realized it was a towel folded to look like a dog. If the dog wasn’t so adorable and unexpected, he would think it ridiculous. He gave the dog a second glance and then continued to the bathroom.

  He turned on the water and stepped in.

  Jenna had obviously made the silly dog, and it gave Greyson insight into her forte. He had read her résumé before giving the okay to hire. He knew she wasn’t as qualified as some of the other applicants. Greyson rarely hired on qualifications alone. It was the person who added to the success of the business, not their puffed up résumé. While he had never met Jenna, he had liked what the recruiter had to say about her. And, really, this was a bed and breakfast, not a billion-dollar corporation. He didn’t need the manager to have a long list of credentials.

  The silly dog would fit in with the bed and breakfast atmosphere. He’d reserve judgment on the girl, which was becoming quite difficult. Impossible, really.

  Woman . . . not girl.

  She looked young, even with her severe matronly bun that he could tell wanted to escape from its confines. Her auburn hair was way too thick to stay restrained. If he had to guess from her résumé history, Jenna was in her mid twenties.

  And an utter pain in the ass.

  * * *

  Jenna was just putting the finishing touches on dinner when the gardener appeared looking at least clean, if nothing else. He gave her a mumble of greeting which she returned with the same amount of enthusiasm. She watched as he made himself at h
ome at the kitchen table, thumbing through some of her papers.

  “I’d rather you didn’t look through those,” Jenna said, carrying a pan of lasagna to the table, placing it next to the salad.

  His hand stalled as if frozen for a moment before he quickly jerked it away. “I actually didn’t want to see them,” he said. “Force of habit.”

  Force of habit to be nosy? She’d have to find an office that had a lock and key, if that was the case.

  “Would you care for something to drink?” she asked. “There’s water, soda . . .”

  “Beer.”

  How typical.

  “I’ll get it,” he said, stretching as he made his way to the refrigerator. “Would you like one?”

  “No, thank you,” she nearly snipped.

  He stared at her and then shrugged. “What would you care for?”

  “Just water for me.”

  “There’s wine, if you prefer,” he said, heading over to a wine rack placed prominently near the kitchen’s entrance and stocked to the hilt. “It’d go better with the lasagna anyway.”

  “I’d rather not drink while on company time,” she said.