Claude came to the table with two chilled wine glasses and poured the wine into each. “Shall I come back to take your order?”
Fox nodded, and Claude said, “Very well.”
“I came up with the idea to turn every room into a themed room when we renovated two years ago,” Fox said. “Each room is designed around a central Freudian theme. For instance, we have a room—”
Lea held up a hand, clipping Fox’s explanation. “You’re talking—Sigmund Freud?”
“Precisely.” Fox’s fascination with dreams and escapism was ingrained in him at an early age. His young life was filled with drama. Sure, he had every material thing a kid could ask for, but he had a violent father. And after what happened to his mother, well, all he could hope for was escape. This business was a vision he’d brought to life with the trust fund money he’d collected at twenty–one.
“That’s… interesting,” Lea said. “I’m from a small town, so I’ve certainly never heard of anything like that before. Tell me more.”
“Weary travelers request The Dream Room, which offers a sleep inducing environment with features like in–wall speakers that send out a choice of white noise or beach sounds, while simultaneous waterfall or beach imagery is projected on the dimly–lit walls.”
Lea smiled and Fox nearly lost his train of thought looking at the deep, angelic dimples on her cheeks. “Sounds like a room I’d like to spend some time in,” she said.
“If you ever do, make sure you relax in the marble soaking tub first. Then pull back the blackout curtains, turn on the imagery and sound systems, and fall asleep in total serenity.”
Fox’s descriptions appeared to induce a fantasy–like state in Lea. She’d propped her chin in her hand. Her lids became heavy, her blinking exaggerated. He couldn’t help but notice her long eyelashes. “Sounds divine,” she said. “Have you stayed in that room yourself?”
“Sure have, and I know from first–hand experience that it works.”
Claude came back and took their orders. Fox liked the way Lea glanced over the menu and picked the first thing that appealed to her, instead of asking a thousand questions about every item on the menu and then picking a salad, like most of his dates. Her choice represented her simplicity: spaghetti. No duck a la orange or any of the other fancy options. He himself wouldn’t eat it if it didn’t easily roll off the tongue when ordered. Fox went with the spaghetti, too.
He was glad his younger brother, Erickson, Karrigan’s twin, ran the two restaurants here at Hypnotic. Anything cooked by him was a fiesta for the taste buds. Fox himself couldn’t boil water, and he certainly was not cuisine–worldly. One simply named it, and Erickson could cook up just about anything from any country. At only twenty–two, he was a world–renowned chef.
Lea shrugged out of her cardigan and set it down on the bench beside her. The glowing candlelight on the table set off a shimmer on her soft shoulders. Her skin was milky white. Fox tried but couldn’t keep his eyes from going from shoulder to collarbone to perfectly natural cleavage. This woman was seducing him without even trying.
She put her elbows on the table and laced her fingers together right in front of her chest, blocking his view, but it was okay; he enjoyed staring into her big baby blues just as much. “I don’t get out much, and I find this hotel truly fascinating. Can you tell me more about the rooms?”
Fox didn’t want to intimidate her in any way, but The Dream Room was the most vanilla of all 162 rooms at Hypnotic. The rest were… well… sexier. Did he really want to get into The Fantasy Room with its plush king–sized bed with mirrors overhead and metallic shades of purples on the walls; The Seduction Room with its leopard–print rugs, gold sprayed ceiling, and self–burning candles on a permanent platform attached to the frame of the king bed in front of the stone–encased, wood–burning fireplace? The list went on.
“Well, like I said, they all have a particular Freudian aspect in one way or another. Think carved doors, high ceilings, low–slung couches with plush pillows and etched skylights. That’s Hypnotic.” But please don’t ask if he’d stayed in any of those rooms. He’d stayed in one—okay, a few—but the women had been forgettable. They’d used him as much he used them, thinking landing in his bed would somehow land them in his wallet. He could always see right through those kind of women. The one in front of him was authentic and he wanted a chance to spend some real, quality time with her. Not scare her out of there so fast her sandals caught fire.
“Too bad the convention’s not being held here,” Lea said, and Fox was glad she’d moved away from the room descriptions.
“Oh?”
“At least I know someone here.”
“Who?”
“Well, not know, but…” Lea stammered, fidgeting with her napkin.
Fox clasped a hand over hers on top the table. “I’m messing with you.”
“Oh, good,” she sighed in relief.
Fox didn’t want to come right out and ask her if she had a boyfriend, so he came up with something a bit cleverer. “I have a suggestion. Why don’t you stay here and simply show up at The Sedgewick for the duration of the meetings? Nobody said you have to stay in the same hotel, did they?”
“Well, no, but accommodations at The Sedgewick have been paid for in advance. I doubt I could get a refund for a late cancellation. And not to be rude, but I’m guessing it would cost a small fortune to stay here.”
“That’s why it’s good to know”—he nudged her with his
elbow— “someone.”
Lea chuckled and gave Fox an extended look. He couldn’t figure out what he found so sexy about her pushing a lock of long, ash–colored hair behind one ear after it’d fallen across her eye. Maybe it was because her hair was untouched by a salon color. It was a simple shade of light brown that didn’t scream, Look at me! He couldn’t even say that; his own tips had been lightened in the hotel salon, Zen. But it had been at the urging of his sister, Karrigan. One of her friends had recently started at the salon and Karrigan, wanting Bianca’s first customer to be a friendly one with low expectations, volunteered her chum older brother.
“I appreciate the offer,” Lea finally said, “but I can’t. Even if you gave me a reduced rate, I’m sure I still couldn’t afford it.”
“Let me make it clearer; there’s no money involved. I’m offering my private room to you—no strings attached.” Lea’s eyes widened, and she straightened in her seat taking on her earlier, guarded posture, and he knew he better set her at ease fast. “It’s not like it sounds.” He was wishing it were. “You can have the room all to yourself. I wasn’t implying I’d be there at the same time.”
“Why?” Lea asked. “Why would extend me, a complete stranger, such a generous offer?”
“I’m incredibly attracted to you. I shouldn’t blurt it out like that, but it’s the truth. I hope you’re not taken, because I would love to get to know you better.”
“Well… your honesty is appreciated. I’d rather you shoot me straight. However, I’m recently divorced, and I’m not really looking to date at the moment.”
“Good thing the moment is such a fleeting thing,” Fox said with a grin. He had a feeling about this woman, a feeling down deep in the pit of his soul, that she was the one.
“Foooxx,” Lea said, wiggling a finger back and forth.
“Kidding. Seriously though, I don’t expect anything for it. But I would like to see you as a returning guest in the future. Let me earn your business, and maybe if I’m lucky… your friendship.”
“Hmm,” Lea said. A pause. “How do I know that you haven’t been offering up your room all week long, and I’m the first one dumb enough to take it?”
“Look me in my eye.” Fox angled his body, pointed to his face.
“Not last week, last month—not ever—have I invited a woman to The Opium Room.” Other rooms in the hotel, yes, he was guilty. But no one had ever slept in his room but him.
Hopefully, until now.
Out of nowhere,
Karrigan came trotting up to their table out of breath. “Finally,” she huffed, placing a hand over her seemingly racing heart. “I didn’t know where you went, and I’ve turned this place upside down looking for you.”
“Karrigan,” Fox said out of one side of his mouth. “It’s kind of a bad time.”
“Sorry.” She gave Lea a regretful look. “Sorry about interrupting.”
“Oh, no, go on,” Lea said.
“Dad called my cell. He’s looking for you. Said he needs to talk about Jill’s report.”
“That’s our business consultant,” Fox informed Lea.
“Come on, Fox,” Karrigan urged, pulling on his upper arm. “Don’t make me tell you exactly what Daddy said.”
Fox pulled his arm away, crossed them. “Go right ahead. Tell us what he said.” As soon as it rolled off his lips, Fox knew that bold, impulsive remark would come back to bite him.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you. To quote him directly, ‘Tell that damn brother of yours to get to my office stat, or I’ll cut his balls off and he’ll never sleep with one of the guests again.’”
“Shit, Karrigan.” Fox came to his feet, fast, stood in front of Karrigan as if to block with his body anything else that might be on the way out of her uncensored mouth. At the same time, Claude arrived at the table with their dinner. Fox stepped out of the way to give him room. Under his breath, he said to Karrigan, “Did you really have to go and say that? Now I look like a huge ass.”
“Sorry.” Karrigan held out her hands to her side. “I warned you.”
No wonder at twenty–two, Karrigan still sometimes acted like two. The only girl out of three kids, Roman spoiled her senseless… financially anyway.
After Claude had set the plates down on the table, Fox leaned into the booth and said to Lea, “I know how that sounded, but please do not take it literally. Trust me, if you knew Roman Kemp, you’d understand.”
“This wasn’t a good idea. I don’t think I’ll stick around to eat.” Lea scooted down the booth to get out, but Fox was blocking her.
“Please,” Fox said, “don’t go. Just sit here with Karrigan, enjoy your meal, and let me go handle my father while you reconsider staying. Will you do that for me?”
Lea let out a sigh. “I guess I’ll think about it. I can’t make any promises though.”
“That’s great. Have Karrigan show you to the bar at eight o’clock. I’ll meet you there.”
—Lea
Karrigan scooted into the booth next to Lea. Without a word, she dug into Fox’s plate of spaghetti.
Had Fox really come right out and said he was interested in Lea? She was still trying to convince herself that she wasn’t imagining things. A man like Fox couldn’t possibly see anything resembling sexy in her. She was boring, homely… and broke. After paying the hefty six–hundred–dollar fee for the conference and then another eight–hundred for the room, her checking balance had dwindled to fourteen–hundred twenty–two. And working freelance, incoming funds were never a guarantee. Lea was nothing like the swanky, rich women Fox was likely used to spending time with.
Still, she couldn’t stop thinking about Fox’s provocatively titled, personal concept room. He said no other women had slept in his room, but Lea had her doubts. Fox was a handsome, successful businessman. He could have his choice of just about any woman on the planet. He was worldly and experienced and Lea was… inexperienced. She hadn’t been with anyone else but Brandon. She wouldn’t know how to please a man of his caliber.
“Uh, excuse me,” Lea said. “What bar is he talking about meeting me at?”
“Right here in the hotel. It’s called Dilemma. Just stick with me and you won’t get lost.” Karrigan crossed a foot over mid–thigh and jiggled a red Converse stiletto tennis shoe mere inches from Lea. She shoved in another huge bite of spaghetti, and sucked in the strand of noodle that hung out.
Lea liked Karrigan. She was approachable and carefree, and anybody who rocked six–inch stilettos made of canvas had to be trendy.
If Lea was going to even entertain the idea of getting back into the dating scene, she was going to need someone like Karrigan to bring her up with the times.
After finishing her scrumptious plate of spaghetti alongside Karrigan, Lea sat back and rubbed her belly. “Good Lord, that was good.”
Karrigan licked the sauce from one corner of her mouth, then the other. “I know. My brother Erickson is the bomb! He runs both restaurants here. We’re twins.”
“Really? Is it just the three of you?”
“Yep, just us three—and Father, but I rarely see him. He stays in his suite upstairs like a recluse. I think he’s got a public phobia.”
“Your father must think Fox is a lady–killer. I mean… for him to say that comment.”
“What? About tearing off Fox’s balls?” Karrigan said loudly, as she twiddled a long strand of hair around her index finger.
Lea looked around the room, and luckily, no one stared… long. “Uh, yeah, about that.”
Underneath the table, Karrigan’s leg was swaying back and forth, back and forth, rocking the entire bench. It was making Lea nauseous.
“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Karrigan said. “Roman says that all the time. At the first sign of trouble, he’s threatening to cut off someone’s balls. Even mine. I think he was castrated in his previous life.” She let her hair unravel from her finger and her feet stilled. Her full eyebrows shot up toward the ceiling. “Do you believe in reincarnation?”
“Uh… I… never really thought about it,” Lea said.
“Humph.” Silence.
Right back to leg swinging and hair twirling.
So Karrigan was on her third or fourth life, and Roman was into the cruel and unusual. That was all nice, but still didn’t tell her what she really wanted to know. Was Fox a player or what?
Not that it mattered. Her mind was made up.
She was staying at the Sedgewick.
CHAPTER TWO
—Fox
As he rode the elevator up to the top floor, Fox fumed thinking how Karrigan had sabotaged him, whether she’d meant to or not. God, that girl was irresponsible, and even though she may not have a care in the world, some people did. At thirty years old, his priorities were beginning to change. He’d enjoyed his bachelorhood up to this point; it was the only feasible lifestyle for the last ten years. He’d run the hotel single–handedly while Roman barked orders from his wing back chair.
Now that he’d met someone who’d really made an impression, it was time to start taking his love life more seriously—if Lea would still have anything to do with him. He hoped she hadn’t left.
He stepped off the elevator, and just in front of him were the double doors to Roman’s lavish office, large enough to house the Duggars. Fox liked to humor his father, make him feel like his pedestal was still standing when the reality was, it wasn’t.
Fox hesitated to turn the knob as he knew what awaited him on the other side—a bunch of nonsense. In Fox’s opinion, most of Roman’s demands were ridiculous and not cost–effective to put it mildly. Like this partnership with Northside Hotel Consultants and their over–the–top representative, Jill Sandling. The woman created more problems for Fox; she certainly didn’t do her job and alleviate them.
Fox rubbed the back of his neck, and stopped putting off the inevitable.
“Foxworth, sit down,” Roman said, as Fox walked in. He gestured to a chair from the other side of his sleek–lined desk. “About damn time. I needed you here thirty minutes ago, so you could speak with Jill yourself. Just how in the hell did you let time get away from you? You knew she was coming today. Oh, and that reminds me, Jill wants to know who’s handling your calendar these days?”
“Are you finished, Father?” Fox asked, irritated. “I mean, is it possible that I can get a word in edgewise, or do you want to continue beating me under the table for the next half hour?”
“Might I remind you who you’re talking to, boy? If you want t
o be included in my will, I’d advise you to think hard before you take that tone with me again. Are we clear?”
Huge and foreboding, even at seventy–five, Roman Kemp was a man not to be toyed with. Fierce–tempered and strong–willed, Roman had managed his climb to the top by intimidating those who stood in his way. Fox had tried to emulate that approach to business, but could never pull it off very convincingly. What Fox did have over Roman was a mind for business. He’d didn’t have to puff up and bulldoze adversaries out of his way; he simply outsmarted them. And as far as the hotel, he managed every department himself. Except the cooking, of course.
“Yeah, we’re clear,” Fox said. “And Karrigan handles my calendar. Always has.”
“That’s your first mistake. Karrigan has too much going on to worry with your schedule. Jill said you need to hire a secretary.”
What Karrigan had going on was fraternizing with Hypnotic’s employees. You talk about AWOL. Fox had to cover for her ass on numerous occasions when she was supposed to be at the front desk. Later he’d find her holding up the counter at the bar chatting with Martin, the bartender. One time he’d gotten a positive identification on her inside Get it While it’s Hot Bake Shop, home of the sexual organ–shaped cakes, down at the shady edge of town. And God knows what she was doing there—Fox didn’t like to think about it, but presumed Karrigan was more sexually active than him and his brother put together. Erickson didn’t have time to date, spending all day going back and forth between the two on–site restaurants; Fox managed his time running the day–to–day operations.
“Jill’s wrong. I don’t need a secretary. I’m perfectly capable of handling my own affairs. And if you ventured down into the lobby yourself on occasion, you’d see that Karrigan is asking for trouble. She’s in with the wrong crowd and could really use some fatherly guidance.” Talk about a stretch—Roman had never taken a fatherly role in any of the kids’ lives. Why should it be any different now?
Truth be told, Fox couldn’t care less about taking up Karrigan’s slack; he spoiled his little sister as bad as anyone. Their mother had passed away from an infection when the twins were just a few weeks old, and Fox sympathized with both Erickson and Karrigan. But his heart went out to Karrigan the most; girls needed their mothers.
The Opium Room Page 2
