Play My Game (Stark Trilogy, #3.7)(22)

I think about what she says as I pack a small suitcase. I hope she’s right. Considering the game that Damien put together for me, I feel a little bit like a slacker. Then again, there’s no reason I can’t step up to the plate next year. Or even for his birthday. After all, surely I could come up with some sort of personalized iPhone app.

The possibility amuses me, and I’m so lost in thinking about apps for lovers and scavenger hunts that I don’t hear Damien come in. I am sitting on the bed, my laptop bag beside me and my suitcase propped up in front of me like a desk, and I’m busily scribbling notes when he knocks lightly on the door frame.

I look up, confused for a second, then leap off the bed and rush into his arms. He kisses me with equal enthusiasm, then nods at the notebook that has fallen to the floor. “What did I interrupt?”

“I’ll tell you when I work out the details. Right now, I’ll just say that you have inspired another app.” I grin mischievously. “I’m certain it will be a best seller.”

He looks at me, amused. “How could it not, with you designing it? Are you ready?”

I am, and we gather our things, then take the elevator to the roof. The helicopter takes us to the airport where the now familiar jet waits for us, along with Grayson, the pilot, and Katie, the Stark fleet’s senior flight attendant.

We get settled in, and Katie brings us both champagne before she returns to the crew area and leaves us alone.

“I didn’t have the chance to thank you yesterday,” I say after we’re airborne. “First, you distracted me—”

“I believe you started the distracting, Mrs. Stark.”

“Maybe.” I am unrepentant. “But after that we were distracted by less enjoyable things. At any rate, a spa getaway sounds like the perfect Valentine’s Day present.”

“I’m very glad you think so.”

I lean over to kiss him. “So tell me about the Serafina Spa.”

“Remember when I told you that I’d been looking at islands to acquire in the Bahamas with the goal of opening a resort?”

“Sure. Did you decide to just buy this one?”

He laughs. “No. It’s an excellent resort with a fine reputation, but it caters to everyone. We’re staying in the private section, which has its own spa, bungalows, and the like. But the main areas are available to anyone. Singles, spring breakers, couples, families.”

“Sounds to me like my husband is trying to sneak in some business during our romantic getaway,” I tease.

He chuckles. “I assure you that wasn’t part of the plan. I’ve done enough research on Serafina already to know that not only is there plenty of room for a competitive couples-only resort to move in and still have both resorts flourish, but that Serafina is an exceptional spa and resort. And until I’ve built a Stark couples’ resort in the area, Serafina is the one resort to which I will take my wife.”

“Very nice save, Mr. Stark.”

He shoots me a stern look, but it’s clear that he’s amused.

“You gave yourself away, though.”

He frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You said it wasn’t part of the plan. Does that mean business is part of the plan now?”

“You, Mrs. Stark, are too smart for your own good.”

I smirk.

“Something unexpected came up. Would you mind? Just one short meeting if I can arrange it?”

I take his hand and squeeze. “Are you kidding? Of course I don’t mind.” I don’t tell him that I pretty much expected it. “What came up?”

“I’ll show you.” He turns on his iPad and pulls up an image of a skyscraper. “The Winn Building in New York,” he says, then taps the screen and pulls up another image, this one of a lovely building still partially under construction. “The Amsterdam Art and Science Museum.”

“They’re amazing.”

“They are,” he says. “The architect is Jackson Steele.” Another tap and I see a still photo from what looks to be a television interview outside at a construction site.

I have to admit the man is exceptional. It’s hard to tell from the grainy image, but I’m guessing that he’s in his thirties. He stands straight, looking as if he owns the world, with a strong jawline and wind-tossed hair that appears to be as thick and dark as Damien’s. But it’s his eyes that are the most striking—a vivid blue that seems to burst off the screen, even despite the very poor quality of the image.

“I’ve had my eye on him for a while,” Damien says, “specifically for the Bahamas resort.”

“Really?”

“I think he’ll jump at the opportunity.” He passes me the iPad, and I scroll through the images. “He’s done a number of projects, but nothing like I’m envisioning. An entire island redesigned. A blank slate. I think it will intrigue him.”

“No kidding.” I mean it, too. Steele’s buildings are spectacular, but Damien’s right. What he’s describing is unlike anything that Damien has included in Steele’s portfolio. “So you invited him to Serafina?”

Damien shakes his head. “Aiden called this morning,” he says, referring to Aiden Ward, the vice president of Stark Real Estate Development. “Turns out Steele is vacationing on Serafina this week. I’m hoping to steal an hour or so of his time.” He squeezes my hand. “Unfortunately, that means I’ll be taking time away from you, too.”