Room At The Inn

By Debbie Decker

Love, Suite Love
The quaint Royal Inn isn't exactly a four-star hotel but it's where architect Steve Preston had planned to to stay - until Dusty Thomas, the charming but dizzy owner, informs him that she can't find his reservation. Now there's no room at the inn, or anywhere else. Unless he doesn't mind sharing HER suite...
Steve can't refuse Dusty's hospitality - and his ravishing roomie does inspire sweet dreams. If he can persuade her to pick up the lingerie draped all over the furniture, they just might get along.
And if happy-go-lucky Dusty can persuade her handsome guest to join her in the hot tub, he just might relax and enjoy himself. But she doesn't hold out much hope - until his unexpected kiss convinces her that Steve is ready for anything...
This book is the first in the three book KEY TO HER HEART trilogy. Book two - Ghost of a Chance - will be released in May 2015.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debbie Decker
• Release date: Mar 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310415975

Debbie Decker

About Debbie Writers are crazy and I’m no exception. I mean, really... where do you think all these stories come from? It only takes something quirky and a “what if” thought comes barreling through my brain. I know, cuz I've had this affliction all my life. I was raised in a very small town in western Pennsylvania with a freedom kids don’t know anymore. In my town, everyone knew everyone AND everything about them. Doors were never locked and the grapevine was better than the town newspaper. Even though I now live in a massive city in Southern California, I’ll always be a small town girl. All my stories reflect that longing to return to a simpler, more personal, way of life. I’m a big believer in love. Though I’m divorced and raised my two wonderful children on my own, I believe there’s somebody fantastic out there who’s just as crazy as I am. I just haven’t met him yet! I’m the eternal optimist. Hopes and dreams are a part of my stories and my life. That’s not to say we don’t have difficult times, but I believe in rainbows. We should never stop trying and I have faith that happily ever after is there for all of us! Professionally, I've been a bit schizophrenic. By education, I’m a Speech Pathologist (therapist) and have never once done it. However, I have been a teacher, a buyer for a larger department store chain, a banker, a mortgage broker, an executive assistant to Bishops, resettled refugees from around the world and direct a food pantry. But the one thing that’s been consistent is writing. I love working with people and helping them. I also love the solitude of writing. See? CRAZY! Home is where my story starts. There is nothing more important than my family and friends. That’s why I write love stories... all kinds of love. I look at my life and appreciate how blessed I’ve been with amazing relationships. That’s another thing you’ll find in my stories - family and friends you can count on when the going gets tough. After all, LOVE is what makes the world go ‘round. Happy reading! Debbie

Book preview

Room at the Inn

Key to Her Heart Series

by

Debbie Decker

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2015 by Deborah Decker. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

Cover by The Killion Group www.thekilliongroupinc.com

eBook design by eBook Prep www.ebookprep.com

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Dedication

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Dedicated to: My father, who showed me the joy in books; my mother who made me open the envelope and the Pat Teal, the agent who never stopped believing.

And with much love and thanks to the following: my children, Jenni and Chris: the original group Karen Pershing, Lynn Willcox, Connie Marquis, Bobbi Cimo, and Barbara Yudt: AND Christine Ashworth and Gillian Fawthrop

Chapter 1

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Steve Preston scowled at the buzzer that apparently only customers heard. The hired help was either deaf or indifferent and if there was one thing that annoyed him more than anything else, it was incompetence. Yet, here he stood, cooling his heels, listening to voices and laughter coming through the open doorway across the room.

Leaving his luggage next to the door, he moved between two mint green armchairs that faced a large oak desk and placed his attaché case on one of the chairs. Since there was no standard hotel counter, he assumed all business was transacted in this corner of the lobby. After only a few moments of toe-tapping, Steve yelled a frustrated, Hello?

A woman poked her head out of what was probably the back office. Hi! I didn't hear anyone come in. How may I help you? The petite and shapely woman seemed to bounce behind the desk.

She wore hot pink dinosaur earrings that matched the dinosaurs printed on the pink and turquoise blouse. His gaze lowered when he heard a jingle, and he saw she had a parade of those extinct creatures circling her wrist. Steve shook his head. Why was he surprised? This whole day had been proof that Murphy's Law was truly in force. Since early that morning, he'd fought one battle after another while he closed up his office in Orange County. All he wanted was a stiff drink and a soft bed.

I'm Steven Preston. He glanced at his watch. I have a reservation. This is the Royal Inn, isn't it?

It certainly is. Please, have a seat. She sat down in the desk chair and looked through the reservation list on the computer. Preston, Preston. She shook her head. I don't see a reservation for Preston. All of our weekend guests have checked in and I'm afraid we don't have any vacancies.

Now wait just a minute. He gave her a piercing look that she assumed was meant to intimidate her. My secretary wrote over a month ago and made arrangements with the owner. I have reservations starting today, October fifteenth, through January.

The woman merely raised an eyebrow at his scowl and leafed through a stack of papers. Let me see if I can find something in here.

Steve looked at the wildly curling red-gold hair that hung below the woman's shoulders. Her eyes were a startling bright blue over a small turned-up nose, altogether making her quite pretty.

Too bad she didn't know how to dress in a more businesslike manner. He glanced again at the casual jumpsuit. Although she was definitely not dressed to his taste, he found the colors dramatic and almost appealing, in a garish sort of way. At first he'd thought she was in her twenties, but the body and clothes were misleading. Now that he'd taken a closer look, he escalated her age to somewhere in her early thirties.

Steve shook his head. She was making a mess of the desktop, going through a batch of envelopes and papers. If this was the kind of person the owner had greeting his customers, he was probably not doing a land-office business. May I talk to the owner? I'm sure we could solve this problem quickly.

Dusty stopped what she was doing and looked up and extended her hand across the desk. Of course, I'm Dusty Thomas, owner and manager. In spite of the expensive charcoal gray suit emphasizing his broad shoulders and his thick dark hair combed to perfection, his compressed lips gave her the first clue regarding his personality: a card-carrying Type A. She sighed inwardly.

He hesitantly shook her hand. Oh, right.

Dusty smiled at his surprise. Mr. Preston, if you made reservations at my Inn that long ago, you should have received a confirmation email. She tilted her head, sending both stegosauruses swinging. Would you happen to have it?

Of course I do. She watched as he pulled out a smart phone. Scrolling to October, he handed it to her.

After a brief glance, Dusty gave it back and pointed to the date. This confirmation is for November, Mr. Preston. She opened her file drawer, and retrieved the printout of his original booking. It says here you wished the dates November 15 through January 31. She handed him the paper.

He looked at it with disgust. Can anything else go wrong today? He was about to close the phone email and noticed the attachment. Again, he handed her his phone. Wait a minute. The correct dates are right here.

He pointed to the bottom of the attachment and read aloud, Reservations October 15 thru January 31.

Just then, an older woman came out of the back office. Is everything okay, Dusty? The stately woman wore a lightweight striped cotton dress and had her gray hair pulled back into a severe bun. Something wrong?

Mr. Preston, this is Mabel O'Reilly, the assistant manager. Mabel, Mr. Preston's secretary made reservation for November. Unfortunately it should have been for October.

The secretary goofed, huh? Mabel perched on the edge of the desk and picked up his confirmation.

He sighed. Yes, but if you'll notice, the dates on the attachment were correct.

Mr. Preston, I'm terribly sorry about the mix-up, but we have nothing to offer you at this time.

Steve was weary of fighting battles. "Isn't there any room you could put me in? It doesn't have to be a suite."

No. Dusty shook her head. We really are full. I'm sure we could find you something in Palm Desert or Cathedral City. Maybe even La Quinta

I can't stay in any of those places! My car is being repaired so I need to stay in this immediate area.

This weekend is the annual Palm Springs Film Festival. You won't find anything in town until Monday afternoon at the earliest. Unless, of course, you wouldn't mind staying in a smaller, less expensive motel. One of those might have vacancies.

He looked around the lobby. No, thank you, he said firmly. Look, this place wasn't my idea. The contract manager of my company suggested I come here because of the location. He's stayed here and liked it. I prefer more modern, uh, contemporary style hotels, not... this. He waved his hand toward the beveled glass French doors and the Mediterranean-style pool area beyond.

I guess it's just as well we don't have anything available, Dusty said stiffly. Shall I call one of the more contemporary hotels in Palm Desert? Or would you prefer Cathedral City? I understand they have a new glass and steel hotel that you should feel right at home in.

Mabel broke into their edgy conversation. Mr. Preston, I'm sure if you had the opportunity to stay with us, you would understand why your business associate recommended us. She held up a hand to stop him from speaking. It's true we run a more traditional Inn, but everyone's taste is different.

It was obvious to Steve that Mabel was the peacemaker and he welcomed her interruption. He took a deep breath. Of course, you're absolutely correct. However, I'm still faced with a lodging problem. I'm in the process of moving my business from Irvine to Palm Springs and the new office is a couple of blocks away on Palm Canyon Drive and the office furniture will be arriving tomorrow. Steve hated having to explain himself to anyone, let alone these women, but if it got him a room, it might be worth it. The moving company backed into my car and now it's stuck in Irvine at the body shop waiting for parts so I had to fly into town and take a taxi here. To top that off, there were no car rentals available here in Palm Springs. I guess the Film Festival you mentioned got 'em all. He paused and looked at both women. Without a car, I hope you can understand why staying farther away is just impossible.

After a brief moment, Miss Thomas gave him a nod and took a three-ring binder off the shelf behind her and handed off a part of list. Mabel, would you mind helping me call a few of the local hotels and motels and see if they can help us?

Not at all. I'll use the phone in the back office.

Steve sat in the armchair and listened to Dusty call at least a dozen places trying to wheedle a favor. He reluctantly had to give her an A for effort. As she got to the end of her list, he stood up and began to pace. He stopped before the fireplace. It was a graceful Spanish style, made of stucco and brick, with hand wrought andirons. The wicker couch with floral cushions gave the area a warm and relaxed look.

Mabel returned a few minutes later. I've bargained with everything we have. Everyone's booked solid, except for the Marriott. They'll take twenty percent off the empty penthouse.

Both women looked expectantly at him, but when Mabel mentioned the astronomical price, he shook his head. Miss Thomas, I just want a room.

Mr. Preston! How many times do I have to tell you—

Dusty... I have an idea, Mabel said quietly.

I can tell by the look on your face that I'm not going to like it, Dusty said.

You never know. Mabel shrugged. The room next to yours is not in use.

With a roll her eyes she said dramatically, Gee whiz, I wish I'd thought of that. Of course, it does have one drawback... it has no bathroom. She gave him saccharine sweet smile.

You want to put me in a room without a bathroom?

You didn't ask for a bathroom. Only a room.

Mabel interjected helpfully, There's a connecting door between the room and Dusty's suite.

You're not suggesting we share the same bathroom, are you? Steve asked indignantly.

Mabel looked sheepish. Well, it was just a suggestion.

Dusty shrugged, Okay. Why don't I see which hotels we should call next?

Steve tried not to, but just had to ask, I know I'm going to regret this, but why doesn't this room have a bathroom?

Oh, it has a bathroom; there are just no fixtures in it yet. I've been remodeling, but unfortunately, the porcelain factory delayed our order, so it isn't finished.

It seemed his choices were to rent a room next to this woman—and share her bathroom—or live in a taxi and commute back and forth between a faraway hotel and his new office. When will a room be available here?

Dusty gulped. He couldn't really mean it, could he? She didn't want him staying here at all. There was something about him that made her uncomfortable. What was it about him that set her teeth on edge?

Maybe it was his aggressiveness. Or could it be his obstinacy? It was probably because the guy hadn't cracked a smile yet. Now, there was something she really couldn't stand... negative, pushy men.

The room? he prompted.

What? Oh. She looked through her reservations. We won't have any suites open for two weeks. There might be a few single rooms on Monday, she added quietly.

So what you're saying is that we'd only have to share the bathroom for three nights. Right? He pulled down the knot of his striped tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

Mabel gave Dusty a meaningful stare, then smiled at the gentleman. "Mr. Preston, since you're the paying customer, I'm sure Dusty intended to give you