by Alice Gaines
“Problem solved.” He lifted his glass in a toast. “The lady doesn’t want me.”
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Ryan said.
Grant snorted. “Since when did women make sense?”
“I misread her, obviously,” Adam said. She’d received his package hours ago. The delivery company had texted him an image of her signature on the receipt. She couldn’t possibly have missed the message of his present. She had to know it was an invitation to pick up where they’d left things on the island. If she’d had any interest at all, she would have contacted him.
“Are you sure she opened the package?” Ryan asked.
“It was from one of the elite women’s stores in the city,” Adam said. “Do you know any woman who wouldn’t have opened it?”
“Good point,” Ryan answered.
“Okay, she opened it, and she didn’t call,” Grant said. “Maybe she was busy.”
“It was hours ago.” He glanced at his watch. “Almost five hours ago.”
“Maybe she’s really busy,” Ryan said.
“Not too busy for this present,” Adam said. “It was quite intimate.”
He took a drink of his Scotch and savored the heat as it went down his throat. He’d been so damned sure he’d hear from her the moment she opened the box. How could she not? Those scarves spoke volumes. Oh, crap. He needed to listen to himself. They were scarves, pieces of cloth. And that sexy outfit. Damn, she might wear it for someone else.
“Well, dude, you struck out.” Ryan punched Adam’s shoulder. “It happens.”
Adam glanced at Grant. He’d been married and divorced, and he understood the feelings of utter failure. Now Adam had done it twice with the same woman.
“I’m sorry, man,” Grant said.
The waitress approached with a huge plate of onion rings and remoulade dip, the best appetizer in Manhattan and probably the world. Grant and Ryan dug in. Adam took one and nibbled on it. It tasted like sawdust.
The waitress had a little swing to her hips as she walked away. She was a good-looking woman with curves in all the right places, and both Ryan and Grant followed her with their gazes.
“You need to get laid,” Grant said. “Work out some of your frustrations.”
“Great idea…use one woman to get another one off my mind,” Adam said.
“A woman who only wants what you do…a good time,” Grant said. “No harm in that.”
That was the reason they’d proclaimed themselves players in the first place—having sex partners with no emotional involvement—to get their heads straight. He’d done that for years, but always in the back of his mind, there was Nicole. Always Nicole. No wonder he’d never committed to any other woman. Because he’d been attached to Nicole for so long, he’d had no problem being distant with other women.
“You know what?” He took another slug of his drink. “I got over her once. I can do it again.”
“That’s the spirit,” Grant said.
“I only wish I understood what went wrong,” Adam said. “The not knowing is killing me.”
“Another man?” Ryan offered.
“No sign of one.”
“Was she just playing you?” Grant asked.
All those orgasms. Nicole slumping against him and then giving him a smile that melted his heart. “No one’s that good an actress.”
“Then, what?” Ryan said.
The waitress returned with a huge tray with three plates on it. She set one in front of each of them and smiled at Grant. “Enjoy your meal.”
“Sure will,” Grant answered, and he watched her backside as the woman returned to the kitchen.
“You gonna make a move?” Ryan asked.
“Nah…we’d see her here all the time,” Grant answered.
The other two cut into their slabs of prime rib—rare, just the way Adam liked it. He took a small bite, but the meal didn’t hold any more appeal than the onion rings had.
Grant looked at Adam and then at Ryan. “This is serious if he’s going off his feed.”
“Yeah, man,” Ryan said. “We can’t have you moping around.”
“It had to have something to do with my original plan to sink her father’s company,” Adam said.
“That would tick her off, for sure,” Grant said.
It had to have something to do with that first phone call from Vivian, the one that had come in while he’d been asleep. His phone had recorded two calls from Vivian, but she’d only left one message. Could Nicole have answered one of those calls?
In his office, Vivian had insisted she hadn’t spoken to Nicole, and she’d been convincing. But something had to have happened. And now Vivian was out trying to get control of Westmore stock. Had she confronted Nicole somehow? Had she suggested to Nicole that she and Adam were lovers? He should have taken charge of this situation instead of counting on the scarves to win Nicole over.
“What I didn’t tell you guys is I had a partner in my plan.” He might as well come clean about all of this mess. Maybe his friends could think of a way out of this hole. “Someone Nicole hates.”
Grant chewed his beef for a second and then swallowed. “A woman?”
“Not just a woman, but her former stepmother. I can’t help but feel she’s behind this somehow.”
“You’re thinking the old lady got to Nicole somehow,” Ryan said.
“Unfortunately, Vivian’s not that old. Nicole’s father always married younger women,” Adam said. “And she’s beautiful.”
Ryan choked on his water. “You’ve been having sex with Nicole’s evil stepmother?”
“Hell no,” Adam said. “She has the personality of a cobra.”
“So…” Ryan said.
“Maybe Nicole thinks I have,” Adam said. “I wouldn’t put it past Vivian to drop hints.”
“Then just clear things up with a conversation,” Grant said. “Problem solved.”
“It could be a bit more complicated than that,” Adam said.
Instead of their regular server, a waitress from the bar appeared with a tray of drinks in her hand. She bent to put another Scotch in front of Adam. “You told Jim to keep ’em coming. And it looks like you’re out.”
They had told Jim, the bartender, that on their way in. And Adam had finished his second drink. He probably ought to skip it, but no one drove in Manhattan. If he got a little buzz on, he’d be taking a cab, anyway. He raised the glass and took a swig.
“I need to figure out exactly what Vivian’s done before I can confront Nicole.”
“That shouldn’t be too hard,” Ryan said. “You know where she lives, right?”
“I should. She’s invited me there often enough,” Adam answered.
Yeah, that’s what he should have done the moment he got back to New York—given Vivian a dose of reality. He was not interested in her sexually, and he’d decided against sinking Westmore Hotels. He needed to put his foot down instead of treating her with kid gloves. His life was his own, and if he wanted to be with Nicole, that was his business.
“Well, this isn’t exactly the way we planned our lives,” Ryan said. “But if Nicole’s really the one you want, you should go for it.”
Adam glanced at Grant. “What do you think?”
“You know how I feel about giving a woman that kind of power over you,” Grant said. “But it looks like she already has it.”
“Yeah, she does. And I have to make things right.” Even if he couldn’t get Nicole to forgive him for everything he and Vivian had done, he could undo the damage the campaign to undermine Westmore had accomplished. Then, at least, he’d be able to live with himself. He cut off a piece of his prime rib and chewed it. This time, it tasted a lot better.
…
The receptionist at Vivian’s apartment building told him to go up. Naturally. Even at…Adam checked his watch…almost eleven o’clock, she’d welcome him into her serpent’s lair. Hell, she probably thought he was making a booty call. Good luck with that, lady.
&nb
sp; The elevator took him up to the twenty-first floor in no time at all, and when he stepped into the hallway on her floor, he found her at the open door to her apartment. She wore a flowing floor-length gown in sapphire blue, and her dark curls spilled down her back.
When she spotted him, she smiled. “Hello, darling.”
“We have to talk.”
“Of course.” She gestured for him to come in and then closed the door. Gazing up at him, she grasped his hands. Her eyes widened as she sniffed the air between them. “Had a few, eh?”
“A few.” He’d probably had enough that he should have gone straight home, but he needed to straighten things out with her tonight. He could handle himself.
“Don’t worry. I have more.” She headed toward the living room and glanced back over her shoulder at him. “Scotch, isn’t it?”
“Scotch.” Had he ever had drinks with her or mentioned his preferences? No matter.
Her living room was as elegant as the woman herself. Decorated in white and gold with an oriental rug he probably shouldn’t be standing on. Some of the paintings looked like they belonged in a museum. She went to an intricately inlaid hutch and opened the doors to reveal a well-stocked bar.
“Have a seat,” she said. “I’ll only be a moment.”
He avoided the couch and sat in an armchair to the side. She soon joined him, holding two crystal tumblers in her hands, then handed him one. He tasted his drink—it was the really good stuff—and set his glass on the top of the coffee table.
“I’ve been dying for you to visit me,” she said as she sat on the couch near him. “What’s the occasion?”
He finally noticed her feet. She wore heeled slippers that matched her gown. She was probably dressed for bed. He could have waited until the morning, but damn it all, this needed to be settled now.
“I need to know if you’ve been in touch with Nicole Westmore,” he said.
She swallowed what she’d been drinking and set her glass on the table. “Why do you keep asking me that?”
“Have you?”
“As I told you this afternoon, no,” she said. “But I’m beginning to wonder if I shouldn’t be asking you the same question.”
“My personal life is just that…personal.”
She crossed one leg over the other and wagged her foot. “And so is mine.”
“Anything that happens between you and Nicole affects me.”
“I haven’t seen her. I haven’t spoken to her. And the only contact I ever hope to have with her is to watch her face as I take her daddy’s company away from her. Does that satisfy you?”
Again, her statement had the ring of truth to it. That still left the question of the second phone call that evening.
“Do you remember last Monday?”
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” she said. “You were still among the missing.”
“You called my phone twice but only left one message. Do you remember why?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She took another sip of her drink and appeared to think. “I called you in the early evening. I thought you answered, but there was only silence on the other end. I assumed something had gone wrong, so I hung up and called back.”
Something had gone wrong, all right. Nicole had probably intercepted that call. Simply seeing Vivian’s name come up on the display could have set her off. That would explain the sudden change in her. But she wouldn’t know anything except that Vivian had called him.
“Did you say anything on the first call?” he asked.
“I’m sure I did.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Think,” he said.
“For heaven’s sake, stop it,” she said. “What could be so important about a dropped phone call?”
“You’re right. Never mind.” No matter how hard he pushed on the subject of whether Vivian had spoken to Nicole, he continued to get the same answer, and it sounded honest. That didn’t mean Nicole hadn’t realized Vivian was calling him and come to her own conclusions. But Vivian couldn’t help him get more information, even if she wanted to.
“Why are you so intent on discussing Nicole Westmore with me?” Vivian demanded.
“I need to know what’s going on in her mind.” He wouldn’t share why.
Vivian lounged against the back of the couch, turning her body toward his. “We don’t have to worry about her. She has no power to stop us now.”
“You know that, do you?”
She gave him a cat-and-canary smile. “I’ve been busy. The people who didn’t sell their stock to us outright still have doubts about little Miss Westmore’s leadership. At the next stockholders’ meeting, a vote of no confidence will be the end of her.”
Could that be true? They’d started their campaign some time before. Real problems at Westmore Hotels had helped them at the beginning. Now the innuendo had become loud rumors, and Vivian had been buying up the stock in Nicole’s company. Nicole was in deep trouble, and he was responsible for most of it. The thought created a hollow place in his chest. Regardless of their history, Nicole didn’t deserve this, especially from a man who’d enjoyed her body. He had to fix this somehow.
“We’ve won, darling.” Vivian lifted her glass in a toast and then took a drink. “Reason to celebrate, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s a little premature.”
“Not at all.” She ran the tip of her finger around the rim of her glass in a sensuous move. Vivian was too smart to do something obvious, such as touching him or removing an article of clothing. But the signals were clearly there in the gleam of her eyes and the way she tilted her head to emphasize the line of her neck.
She wanted him. Of course, he’d known that, but he hadn’t worried about dealing with it. Now he’d come to her apartment late in the evening after having a few drinks. No wonder she thought she’d made progress.
“Maurice was a perfect cad, as you know, Adam,” she said. “My second husband wasn’t much better. I don’t seem to have very good taste in men.”
“I’m sorry, Vivian. I don’t think that’s any of my business.”
“We became partners because we both hated Maurice.”
He couldn’t deny it. At the time, when he’d been struggling for financing, he would have taken money from almost anyone. But getting back at Westmore had made the deal that much sweeter.
“We make good partners,” she continued. “Why don’t we take that to a new level?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Such scruples.” She tsked a few times. “We’re so like each other, darling. Neither of us will ever find ‘true love,’ if that even exists. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy each other.”
No, no, and hell no. She was a beautiful woman, a few years older than him, but not so much as to present a problem. If she weren’t such a viper, he’d normally consider having an affair with her. He’d take her hand and lead her to her bedroom. But after Nicole, that seemed so…well… Empty.
She leaned toward him and rested a hand on his knee. “I can satisfy you, darling. You won’t regret it.”
“You’re wrong. I regret it already.” He rose. “Thanks for the drink.”
She huffed and set her glass down. “You’re being tedious.”
No, he was being right for once. He’d made a mistake becoming involved with Vivian on any level. Trying to hurt Nicole, even to get back at her father, had been a worse one. He’d fix the first by leaving…now. He’d fix the second at the stockholders’ meeting.
“Have it your way.” Vivian waved a hand at him. “See yourself out.”
And he did exactly that.
Chapter Ten
The meeting was not going well, but then, Nicole hadn’t expected it to. The financials didn’t look good; the profit and loss sheet was even worse. Westmore Hotels had been struggling for years. Everyone knew it, and she couldn’t hide it. Her only hope in defeating the vote of no confidence motion lay in impressing t
he group with her presentation on Savvy.
Vivian St. James sat in the back, hardly speaking a word. She didn’t have to say anything—she’d already done her damage. She only needed to remain here and watch the rest of Nicole’s world implode. Peter Baxter sat on a chair at the front of the room near where Nicole stood at the podium. Only his support kept her from collapsing into a heap. Even so, her knees trembled—luckily where no one would see.
One of the stockholders—a short man in his sixties with sparse gray hair—approached the audience microphone. “What has the company done to minimize labor costs?”
Peter had prepared her for that question because it always arose in regard to her hotels. “Labor costs have to be high if you want to provide the customer with a truly luxurious experience. If a guest wants something, you have to have sufficient staff to deliver it promptly.”
“You can find cheaper workers,” the man said.
“Not to provide the same service,” she said. “Many of our guests see the same servers and other staff year after year. You can’t beat personal loyalty.”
A murmur rose up in the crowd. They all knew she was talking Westmore’s old model, which hadn’t worked for almost a decade. Customers who liked that kind of service were dying off. She’d have to get past these sorts of objections and into her presentation on Savvy to show them she had a plan for the future of the company.
“You need to get the unions out of there,” someone called out from the rear.
“Please, if you have a question, bring it to the microphone,” she said.
That only earned her grumbling. Peter rose and joined her at the podium. “For now, can we hold our questions until the end? Ms. Westmore has some exciting news she hasn’t shared yet.”
Her heart sank. She shouldn’t have had to rely on anyone else to get her through this meeting. She’d just demonstrated her inadequacy. If she couldn’t keep her shareholders in order, how could she run a company? She had to get back in control of this situation.
“We’re thrilled to announce a new resort with a unique concept in luxury hospitality.” She pressed the button on the podium, and the large screen behind her lit up with an image of the facade of Savvy. The crowd let out a soft gasp, and no wonder. Her baby was, indeed, impressive.
