But here, suddenly, was the answer. A woman who knew every detail of the upcoming wedding, who had access to and influence over problems Rik couldn’t possibly create. And unless his signal decoder was seriously out of whack, she wasn’t as unavailable as she wanted him to believe. He felt a momentary pang of conscience at deliberately using her for his own purpose, but it passed. Stopping this ill-conceived wedding was worth whatever deception, whatever ruse, whatever scheme it cost…up to and including his hotel room.
Chapter Two
Rik reached the front desk just as Hallie gave the pretty, dark-haired clerk a perturbed look. “No, I don’t understand,” she was saying. “If I needed more bad luck today, I’d smash a mirror. All I’m asking is to change from one room to another room on a different floor. That can’t be so difficult”
The clerk shook her head, her long, straight hair swinging behind her shoulders with brisk apology. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bernhardt, but there’s nothing I can do.”
“Where’s the other reservation clerk? Where’s Kimo?”
“Kimo doesn’t work the front desk.” The clerk turned to answer the persistent ringing of the phone. “Paradise Bay,” she said. “This is Earlette. May I help you?”
“You can help me,” Hallie persisted. “Kimo does work the front desk because he took my registration and put me in room 1313.”
“Fourteen-thirteen,” Rik corrected, leaning casually against the counter beside her. “You’re in room 1413.”
Hallie glanced at him and frowned as if she couldn’t quite recall where she’d met him. She was wearing her glasses, but behind the pewter rims, her hazel eyes reflected anxiety, exasperation and the rising fog of too much tequila. “I know what room I’m in.” With a dismissive toss of her head, she leaned across the counter and waved her hand to gain Earlette’s attention again. “Yoo-hoo,” she said in an exaggerated whisper. “Can we talk?”
Earlette held up her index finger and tried to continue her phone conversation. But Hallie bent further across the counter and grasped the opposite edge, bringing her body into an intriguing alignment with the desk. Rik made it a point never to question a gift from the gods, and his appreciative gaze dropped from her slender shoulders to the curve of her hips and the softly sloped hollows behind her knees. He wondered, idly, what sort of erotic noises she made when a man kissed her there.
“Kimo made a big mistake,” she whispered loudly. “He put me in the wrong room. So if you’ll just put me in another one, that will fix everything.”
Earlette covered the mouthpiece. “Please, Ms. Bernhardt, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
“But this is important,” Hallie persisted, as Earlette turned away to finish her conversation. “My feet hurt and I’m not feeling too good myself.”
“You can lie down in my room.” Rik dangled the offer like a shiny red ribbon. “I’m on the tenth floor.”
Hallie looked over her shoulder and sighed. “I don’t suppose you’d want to trade.”
Rik arched his brows in what he hoped was a Eureka! expression. “Why didn’t I think of that? Of course I’ll swap rooms with you.”
“You will?”
He nodded, hoping the sudden, astonished look on her face was one of gratitude.
“Aw, shucks.”
He had expected something in the way of thanks, but that wasn’t it “What?”
“I’m stuck,” she repeated, her eyes cutting to the far side of the counter. “Stuck!”
In a glance, Rik noted her white-knuckled grasp on the countertop and realized the tequila was responsible for her softly blended consonants and her distress. She was not only a novice, she probably had never had a drink of liquor before in her life. When the full effect of the tequila hit her, he could only imagine what else she might get schtuck to. Feeling more than a slight twinge of responsibility for her present condition, he reached across and pried her fingers loose. Drawing her hands into his, he helped her straighten. “ There,” he said. “Un-schtuck.”
She looked at him, then at her hands, the counter and her hands again. “Thank you.” She spoke carefully, with only an enchanting blush to reveal her embarrassment.
“You’re welcome.” He gave her an it-could-havehappened-to-anyone shrug. “So, are we trading rooms?”
The creases reappeared on Hallie’s forehead as she formed her next words with distinct concentration. “I thought Mrs. Brewster wanted the wedding party on the same floor.”
“She didn’t want me,” Rik declared. “She thinks I’m a bad influence on her prospective son-in-law.”
“Are you?”
“I do my best.”
Hallie’s lips curved in a smile Rik found completely charming, if a bit slack.
Earlette hung up the phone and turned her attention to Hallie, and then by default to Rik. “Hello, Mr. Austin,” she said warmly. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Hello, Earlette. Don’t tell me you’re having another day like yesterday?”
“Worse, I’m afraid. What can I do for you?”
Hallie’s gaze swiveled from him to Earlette, but not before she took the precaution of planting her hands on the counter for balance. “That’s not what you said to me.
Rik slipped his arm around her shoulders as backup support. “Earlette, Ms. Bernhardt and I are switching rooms. Can you arrange that for us?”
“But, Mr. Austin—”
“Give me his room.” Hallie seconded Rik’s solution with a nod that brought her hand up to steady her head. “He can have mine.”
“It’s all right,” Rik assured Earlette. “I don’t mind moving upstairs.”
“As I’ve been trying to tell Ms. Bernhardt,” Earlette explained, “the computer is down, and until it’s up and running again, I can’t make any changes.”
Hallie looked at Rik. “That’s what she said to me.”
“Hmm,” he said.
“Can’t you change just one teeny-weeny room?” Hallie coaxed.
Earlette shook her head. “The best I can offer is to store your luggage.”
“I don’t have any Iudge…lug-gage.” A slur swam in Hallie’s voice and she paused to correct it. “My clothes could be somewhere in Rio de Janeiro by now.” She shook her head sadly. “I have to work and my clothes are off on their own little vacation. Now I ask you, what kind of justice is that?”
Rik gauged the situation and gave Earlette a persuasive smile. “Give me the key to room 1413.” he said. “I’ll take care of the swap” Drawing the key card to his own room from the pocket of his khaki shorts, he placed it on the counter in front of Hallie and took the key card Earlette held out to him. “You can do the paperwork and reprogram the keys when the computer comes back on. How does that sound?”
“Perfect” Hallie leaned down and took off her shoe, wobbling a little as she straightened. “It’s terribly warm in here, don’t you think?” Dropping her high-heeled sandal on the counter, she drew the back of her hand across her forehead and closed her eyes.
Rik’s palm hovered near her elbow, anticipating the moment when she’d fall flat on her face. “Let’s walk outside,” he suggested. “There’s a nice breeze.”
“Nice breeze? Did you say nice breeze?” Hallie slapped the counter for emphasis, then slung her hand around to shake off the sting. “Well, let me tell you something. I listen to the weather reports and it’s not a nice breeze, it’s a hurricane. And a damn hot one, too!”
Earlette’s dark eyes met his and Rik knew it was up to him to get Hallie upstairs and into his room before she passed out. Tucking his old room key into her hand, he guided her in a smooth turn away from the desk. “Let’s have some coffee.”
“Never touch the stuff.” Hallie hobbled forward and Rik grabbed for her shoe…which was just out of his reach. “Caffeine ruins your sleep. Didn’t you know that?”
“We’ll get decaf,” he promised, making another effort to hold on to her elbow and rescue her sandal.
She pulled away from
his grasp and limped toward a cluster of chairs, seemingly unaware that she was wearing only one shoe. “That’s even worse. Don’t you pay any attention to the health reports on the news?”
“I’ve been out of touch for a few years.” Rik tucked the lost sandal into his pocket and turned back in time to see Hallie kick her other shoe into the air. After a halfhearted swipe at catching it, she left the shoe where it landed and kept walking. She was going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow, he thought as he swept the second shoe off the floor and into his other pocket before catching up with her again. “Where are you headed?” he asked.
“Somewhere cool.” She fanned her flushed cheeks. “Aren’t you hot?”
“No. You’re just feeling the effect of the alcohol.”
“I don’t drink alcohol. It’s these clothes I’m wearing. There’re too many of them.” Sh& reached for the buttons at the bodice of her dress and Rik grabbed her hand.
“We’re still in the lobby,” he said. “Probably not the best place to undress.”
“I’m only taking off my jacket.” She shook off his hand. “That’s not against the law here, is it?”
“Only if you’re not wearing a jacket.”
“I beg your pardon. I’m a professionable. I always wear a jacket.” Her speech was uncertain and careful, in the manner of someone who realizes they’re not feeling quite normal but thinks if they talk slowly enough, no one will notice.
“Okay, you’re wearing a jacket,” Rik said to appease her. “But you really shouldn’t take it off in the lobby.”
“Maybe I should and maybe I shouldn’t.” She stopped walking and faced him, her mouth sliding into an angled smile as she peeled off her glasses and let them dangle from her fingertips like a limp thread. “You aren’t going to try to stop me, are you?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it” He crossed his arms but kept ready in case she swayed off balance.
“Do you see this?” She held up the key card. “It’s the key to Paradise. Now you see it—” she dropped it down the front of her dress and showed him her empty palm “—and now you don’t”
At times, in the jungle, he’d fantasized about moments like this. A luxury hotel. Tropical breezes. A provocative woman, teasing him with her sexuality. Somehow, though, he’d never imagined it would take place in the lobby…and it had never once occurred to him that the woman would be skunked. “Let’s go upstairs,” he suggested. “I’ll show you my room.”
“You’re pretty fresh for an old guy, Rik Austin Texas.” She nodded, obviously pleased by her ability to remember his name. “Why don’t you ask me to dance?”
“There’s no music. I’d have to sing and you wouldn’t like that” He reached for her arm, but she slipped aside.
“Uh-uh-uh. No touching allowed on the first dance.”
She was losing inhibitions faster than he could count. Rik glanced at the few other people in or near the lobby, but no one seemed to be paying much attention. One of the benefits of being in a honeymoon hotel, he supposed. “Let’s go upstairs, Hallie.”
Her answer was a long, sensual stretch. Eyes closed, glasses swinging from her fingertips, arms swaying above her head like a supple young tree, she moved to the rhythm of a melody only she could hear. Rik watched her for a moment of purely virile enjoyment before he reluctantly stepped forward to stop the show.
“Hallie?” he said softly. “You should go upstairs and lie down.”
Her answer was a right-left tilt of her head, a onetwo swing of her hips and a resonating clap of her hands, which caught her glasses and crumpled them into uneven, ungangly thirds. Unconcerned, she threw them aside like a stripper tossing the first glove and belted out a remarkably tuneful, “Blame it on the bossa nova!”
Rik stroked his chin, debating his responsibility to remove her from the lobby and further embarrassment. True, he was thoroughly enjoying the slinky movement of her body, and on a strictly ethical note, he believed in the golden rule of allowing everyone the unchallenged opportunity to make a fool of themselves when they chose. He certainly didn’t want to be rescued on those few occasions when he crossed the line between acceptable and obnoxious behavior.
Not that Hallie was obnoxious. On the contrary, he found her unleashed inhibitions a charming surprise. If anyone had asked him when she first came into the bar, he’d have said that Ms. Bernhardt didn’t know how to relax, was afraid of anything she couldn’t control and was scared to death of her own sexuality. But now… Well, Jack always told him he was too quick to make up his mind about people.
A bronzed young man, holding tightly to the hand of a bronzed young woman, stopped within earshot of Rik.
“Who’s the boss of Nova?” she asked.
“Not who, what,” her partner answered in a selfimportant, patient tone that all but flashed a neon sign proclaiming them to be newly weds. “The Bossof Nova. It’s a star named for Clyde Bossof. I read about it in Science Digest.”
“Oh.” She sounded impressed by his reading material. “And he’s a songwriter, too? That’s pretty cool.”
Rik felt a flicker of anxiety about the future leaders of the good ol’ U.S. of A., but he didn’t have time to brood over it. Across the lobby, he saw the unmistakable swing of Babs Brewster’s unmistakable pageboy and the equally unmistakable look of recognition on her Donna Reed face. Rik figured she had spotted him even before she stepped out of the elevator and wanted to remind him—once again—that the bachelor party on Friday night was not to turn into an orgy and that she expected him to deliver Jack, bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, tuxedoed and on time, to the ceremony on Saturday. It was too late to make a clean getaway. Hallie, blissfully unaware of everything except the song in her heart and the rhythm in her feet, bossa-novaed right in the path of the woman Rik intended one day to call Mom.
Hallie. One glance confirmed his gut feeling that she was in no condition to discuss the wedding. At the moment, he doubted she could remember who was getting married. But Babs had a long memory and she would not be forgiving of any embarrassment caused by the wedding coordinator she, personally, had hired. There was only one thing to do under the circumstances.
“Hey!” Hallie demanded as he wrapped his arms around her thighs and hoisted her over his shoulder like a worn-out, rolled-up carpet. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you how to dance?”
“This is how we do it in the jungle,” he said, and headed straight for the elevator, passing Babs in her impeccable beach attire and her husband, Danforth, in his yachting cap and sailor suit. Rik nodded cordially. “Hello, Mrs. Brewster. Mr. Brewster.”
“Rik, there’s an important matter I’d like to discuss with you.”
Whirling smoothly, Rik kept his face toward Babs and Dan and walked backward to keep Hallie’s face out of view. “I’m kind of occupied right now.” Giving Hallie a playful swat on the butt, he winked at Babs. “You understand.”
From the look on her artfully beautiful, perfectly made-up face, she appeared to understand all too well.
“Who do you think you are, you big gorilla?” Hallie demanded. “Tarzan, the monkey man?”
He managed, somehow, to keep her from wiggling off his shoulder, and kept smiling as he moved steadily backward toward those elevators. “She’s crazy about me.
“So it seems.” Babs took a few steps after him, clearly intent on getting a look at the woman slung over his shoulder. “Someone you met in the jungle, no doubt”
Rik jabbed the elevator button and maneuvered like a toreador to keep the two women from coming faceto-face. “She was raised by hyenas,” he said. “She isn’t accustomed to civilization yet.”
“Hyenas, you say.” Danny sounded intrigued.
“What do you feed her?”
“Kahlua pig. It’s all she’ll eat.”
“Ha! For your information, I’m a strict vegetablearian. I don’t eat pig—and especially not if it’s been Kahluaed.” Hallie’s flutter kick caught Rik in the ribs and he thought about saving himself a great dea
l of trouble and putting her on her feet so she could square off against Babs Brewster.
“There’s something familiar about her voice.”. Babs leaned to one side in an effort to see around him. “I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before.”
The elevator chimed its arrival and Rik shuffled sideways as the doors slid open. “’National Geographic,’” he supplied. “It’s the call of the wild.”
“I hear a Kahlua pig sandwich calling my name,” Danny announced.
His inspired tone was given short shrift by Babs’s aggrieved and perfectly audible response. “It frightens me to think Jack spent all those years in the jungle with that man.”
Rik smiled weakly as the elevator doors closed. This little escapade was going to be a setback in the son-inlaw and mother-in-law relationship he envisioned. On the other hand, if he didn’t stop Stephanie’s wedding, there wouldn’t be a relationship at all. Better to protect the reputation of the wedding coordinator and prevent the marriage from taking place than to let Hallie take the fall and leave the wedding arrangements completely in Babs’s controlling hands. Later, he’d worry about convincing the Brewsters he was an all-around nice guy.
“I thought hyenas lived in the desert.” Hallie walked her hands up his back, and pushed upright. Some perverse impulse kept his arms around her as she slid to the floor. Her skirt bunched about her waist and he felt the tantalizing rub of her legs against his, the sweetly curved shape of her pressed close to his chest. A warm, compelling awareness stroked his consciousness like Pachelbel’s music, sharp and scintillating, and for a long moment, they stood like partners at the end of a dance, breathing hard, yet hardly breathing at all.
Please Say I Do Page 3
