All About Love

Chapter 3

Why am I going to this godforsaken place in Florida again?

Kyle Montgomery had been asking himself that question since he'd landed in Tampa the night before. Why couldn't his parents have decided to open a new hotel there, in a metropolitan environment? Tampa had much to recommend it as far as shopping and entertainment venues and a whole selection of tourist activities. He'd also done some research and discovered an abundance of conventions were held at the various hotels each year.

Those were the kinds of things he liked to sink his teeth into. Facilities that carried the Montgomery brand, that offered everything to guests and convention planners. He knew his parents had started with a bed-and-breakfast, but holy hell. They had all moved way beyond that. Now he had to waste his time at what was probably some dreary little roadside inn when he had other things to attend to. There was plenty of work waiting for him at the corporate offices in Dallas, and he itched to get back to it.

But his mother, Brenda Anderson Montgomery, it seemed was as much a meddler as her brother, his uncle Joseph. The man had married off three billionaire sons. Not, however, without a lot of angst on their part. He'd done his best to avoid the same fate, yet, it seemed, here he was.

"I don't want to wait too long to be a grandmother," she kept telling him. "You're the oldest and my best hope, so get busy."

He'd laughed, and asked, "Didn't you ever hear about letting nature take its course?"

"Now and then nature needs a boost," she'd retorted.

He'd only agreed to this to get her off his back. He had no interest in a bed-and-breakfast or the kind of small towns his parents had talked to him about. Tourism be damned, he could make a hundred times as much money opening his brand of hotels in the appropriate areas. Not to mention what he could rake in from the amenities he could offer."

"It isn't always about the money," his mother had protested when he brought it up.

"Tell that to my father. I think he has ties with dollar signs on them."

His bigger problem was he had an underlying suspicion his parents had more in mind than buying a B&B. And damn if that didn't irritate him just as much. He was too old for his parents to fix him up.

"Just go," Brenda insisted. "If you absolutely hate it, call us and let us know, and you're off the hook."

In truth, he had several what he called "valid reasons" for taking this trip that he was sure would be a pain in the rear. For one thing, he wanted to get his parents off his back. They were singing the grandparents song louder every day. He hated to admit it, but it was becoming old hat to him. He was tired of dealing with it all. Maybe he'd become a confirmed, grumpy bachelor, making money but not children. Of course, his parents would never get off his back about that one.

For another, he didn't want any further confrontations with Charlotte Hamilton who couldn't seem to get the message that their time together was over. For the past few weeks, she had been pushing for him to take her to the big Medallion Ball at the country club. Usually the women he dated knew the score - live for the moment with no commitment for the future. Lately, though, they'd become unaccountably clingy. Charlotte was probably the clingiest of all. If he went to the ball by himself, he'd have her unpleasantness to deal with, not to mention evading all the unattached women who would see him as fair game.

And, finally, he was tired of arguing with his parents about their stated desire to open a new branch of Montgomery Hotels.

"You need to broaden your horizons," his father, Hal, told him as he called on his way to the airport. "You're stuck in a rut."

"It's a rut I like," he protested. "And I perform well in it."

No one could deny he'd made some profitable moves for the corporation. And made himself, his parents, and his brothers billionaires in the process. Now, he felt like a kid who'd been sent to detention by his parents. He was thirty-five, for crying out loud.

"Life is about more than just that," his mother insisted. "Your father and I feel as if we've pushed you too hard. It's time for you to get married. Have children."

And holy crap, wasn't he sick of hearing that same old song time and time again.

"When I'm ready," he insisted over and over."

"You'll never be ready if we leave it up to you," his mother told him. "You need to start seeing the kind of women who worry more about families and less about being photographed."

"Those photographs help sell occupancy in our hotels," Kyle protested. "And draw investors."

"I'd rather have a nice family photo of you, your wife, and a few kids." This tidbit from his father.

"I'm not going to Florida," he insisted. "It's a waste of my time."

So how, then, had he ended up here in Tinyview, Florida, or whatever the hell it was called? Because, in the end, he figured it was easier than arguing with him. So, here he was. Running away on this trip had actually turned out to be a welcome escape for him, much as he complained about it.

And what was he supposed to do with himself, anyway? He had strict orders not to let on that he was there to size up the place as a possible purchase. So what did someone do at a dot on the map for four or five days?

At least he'd made the reservation under the name of Kyle Montgomery, just in case someone there knew who Roger Montgomery was. He used his middle name with family and friends. Roger was the rich executive. Kyle was the private person. He worked hard to keep that middle name off the radar.

American Express had made him jump through hoops to issue him a second card with Kyle Montgomery instead of his full name. It had been necessary, though. A slipup like that could have skewed the whole thing. When he'd made the reservation, he'd hesitated about telling them where he was from. But then he figured, what the hell. They wouldn't be expecting someone from Montgomery Hotels to be checking up on their facility. They'd never put two and two together.