She glanced again at the spreadsheet. "Miss Hartman booked by e-mail the day after your telephone reservation," she told him, riffling through the filing cabinet for hard evidence. Finding what she was searching for—a copy of Miss Hartman's e-mail—she glanced it over before handing it across to him. "She asked to share your room."
He took the sheet, his eyes narrowing as he read it. "And you didn't think to check this with me?"
Laura bit her lip, struggling for patience. Whatever was going on in this man's private life, she didn't see why she should get dragged into it.
"It wasn't me who dealt with the booking," she pointed out. "However, since Miss Hartman specifically quoted your personal booking reference and asked to share your room, I can't see why Senhor Silva would have had any reason to question it." Defiantly, and a little acidly, she added, "I'm sorry if our desire to assist with a last-minute request has caused you any inconvenience."
"You have no idea," he muttered under his breath, reading the e-mail over again as though that simple action would make the whole mess go away.
Laura watched him cautiously. Reading between the lines, she suspected his girlfriend had taken one step too far. She was glad she wasn't in her shoes right now!
"I'll need another room," he said, finally breaking the awkward silence.
Shaking her head apologetically, she told him, "I'm sorry, we're completely full. You took the last room." The one next to mine, and won't that be a joy?
"Surely there must be something you could do, just for tonight?"
Laura shook her head again. If she was so inclined, she could gather up her luggage which she hadn't yet unpacked, let him have her room for the night, and drag all her own stuff up to the family house. But they didn't have a spare room, and after a full day travelling, she couldn't face sleeping on the sofa. Besides, Paulo's mother wouldn't allow her to. She would turf his sister out of her room and make her sleep on the sofa. Laura felt that was a bit much, even within the realms of the superb customer service they offered here.
"If there was something I could do, Mr. Stone, I would, but this is only a small hotel and I have no room for manoeuvre at this point."
"In that case, I'd like to speak to the owner," he said stubbornly.
Laura's hackles rose. As far as she could see, this whole thing was a personal issue between Daniel Stone and Natalie Hartman. Paulo wouldn't be able to do any more about it than she could. She had no intention of trooping up to the house and dragging him back down here just to tell his customer the same thing she had.
She decided a small white lie was in order. "I'm afraid the owners are away," she said quickly. "They left today and won't be back for just over two weeks." That wasn't entirely accurate, of course, but they were going first thing tomorrow and wouldn't be back until the day after Mr. Stone left, so he was stuck with her whether he liked it or not.
Unsurprisingly, he didn't. "The owners are away?" he asked sharply.
Laura couldn't help but take his attitude as a slur on her abilities – a direct hit to her pride. She was perfectly capable, and she didn't appreciate this man thinking otherwise.
"The hotel always runs smoothly on the rare occasion they take a break," she reassured him as politely as she was able. "Perhaps I could show you to your room now?"
Making it clear this was the only option left to him, she collected a second key to his room, moved past him, and strode purposefully through the doorway, leaving him to follow. His bags stood by his hire car and she reached for one of them, but he moved past her to lift them himself.
"I can manage," he said curtly.
Doing her best to ignore his macho gesture—what did he think she was going to do, swap his bag with hers while he wasn't watching?—Laura led the way down the gravel path to the rooms.
"I assume you're helping out here temporarily, Miss Matheson?" he asked as they walked.
He would assume that, Laura fumed. He probably doesn't think I'm capable of doing anything for any length of time!
"I take over each summer while Senhor and Senhora Silva visit relatives back in England," she replied tartly, smarting at his inference that she was a poor second to having the owners available to pander to his every whim. "Take over" was a bit of a stretch, but it certainly sounded better than his "helping out." "They're very good friends of mine," she added for good measure. "I've been doing it for years."
"I see." There was a calculating gleam in his eye, but it was swiftly gone as he quirked an incredulous eyebrow in her direction. "They leave you in charge? You amaze me!" And before she could reply, he strolled ahead, not slowed one iota by his luggage.
Standing open-mouthed at the insult, Laura watched the muscles bunch across his back through his shirt as he hefted his bags, and then couldn't believe she'd even noticed something like that. What was wrong with her today? The man was unbearable! Who cared whether he had a torso to die for?
Almost running to catch up with him, she worked hard to remain outwardly professional whilst inwardly seething at his attitude and at her hormones' traitorous determination to find the man attractive despite his obnoxiousness. Politely, she knocked at his door in case Miss Hartman was inside. When there was no reply, she unlocked it for him and held it open while he entered and deposited his bags.
Most guests were delighted by their rooms. Mr. Stone, apparently, was not.
"It has a double bed," he stated the obvious, glaring at the object as though it might be full of
