“Oh, yes it does,” Callie piped up.
“No, Callie, it doesn’t. It leads to tears if the love isn’t there. Don’t kid yourself,” Moira said.
Callie bowed her head. “I know,” she said solemnly.
She placed her hand on Callie’s shoulder. “You’ll find both, Callie—I’m sure,” she said, not wanting to be too harsh on the girl.
“Maybe,” Callie said, not sounding like a teenager anymore. “Maybe you have, too. Why don’t you just let it happen like Mandy says? Ride the wave.”
She nodded and glanced at her watch. “I think I’m going to go catch a nap and then get ready for dinner.”
“Where to tonight?” Mandy asked, watching her get up.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yes we do,” they chorused.
“Well, his brother has come into town with his new girlfriend, so we’re going out with them.”
They all sounded like a giant tire leaking out together.
“Don’t get too excited ladies, it’s just dinner,” Moira said.
“Yeah, but dinner with his family.” Mandy winked at her. “That’s good.”
“No it’s not,” she hissed back. “Can I talk to you?”
Mandy followed her, and they found a table far enough away that the rest of the crew couldn’t hear.
“It’s just his brother, Moira, he—”
She lifted her hand to cut her off. “He’s not just a businessman, Mandy.”
“So what? You didn’t think he was.”
“Mandy,” she said gruffly. “He’s Steven Porter.”
“I don’t have Alzheimer’s yet. I know his name.”
“Jesus Christ girl, he’s the—Steven Porter.”
Mandy looked at her with a blank expression, and then the light bulb came on. “What?” She plunked herself down in the closest chair. “You’re shitting me?”
“Do I look like I’m yanking on your chain?”
“Oh—my—God.”
“That’s right. He’s not a little above my head he’s the stratosphere and the mesosphere above my head.”
“Steven fucking Porter?”
“I don’t think that’s his middle name, Mandy, and you’re not helping me here.”
“What the hell do you want me to say?”
“Smack me, so I’ll come to my senses and stop this.”
“Why would I do that? The guy likes you. He spent the night with you, stayed for breakfast, and wants you to meet his brother. I’d say that’s more than a one-night stand, don’t you?”
“That’s the problem. What the hell is he doing?”
“Can I tell the rest of the crew?” Mandy beamed at her.
“No,” she barked.
“You’re going to have to tell them sometime, especially when you become Mrs. Steven Porter.”
“Oh for the love of God, Mandy, smarten up. This is serious.” She picked up her bag and said, “I’m going back to the room and calling him to cancel. I can’t stand this churning in my stomach. I feel all prickly and on edge.”
“Ho.” Mandy rewrapped the towel around her waist. “Moira, are you falling in love with this guy?” she asked seriously.
“Don’t be an idiot. Of course not.”
“Really.”
“I told you because you can keep a logical head, and I can’t seem to think straight for some reason.”
“Oh shit, you are falling in love with him.”
“I’ve known him for three days, Mandy, that’s not possible.”
“It is when cupid strikes you in the ass with an arrow.”
She bent down to fix the strap on her sandal. Why the hell did she have to be so cheap, and buy everything from the discount stores. The damn thing was almost breaking already. “I can do without the idioms. Just tell me that I’m right to cancel tonight.”
“I can tell you that easy, but I don’t think Steven is going to like it. The guy is probably used to getting what he wants. He was smart enough to take over Hollywood. You aren’t going to pose much of a challenge.”
As soon as Mandy said that, she knew what to do.
“Moira, don’t,” Mandy warned, seeing the look in her eye. “Don’t blow him off just because of who he is. Obviously, he didn’t want to tell you for a reason. Think about it for a second.”
“That’s the problem, he’s taking up every square inch of my mind, Mandy.”
“If you were him, how would you know if someone liked you for who you are, not what you are. He’s like royalty. He probably can’t tell who his real friends are. It can’t be easy for him. Being with Steven would be like winning a jackpot, he’s worth billions, and I’m sure hundreds have tried for the posting.”
“I don’t want his money.”
Mandy reached over and gave her arm a squeeze. “I know that’s not who you are, but he doesn’t, at least not yet. Give him a chance. See where this goes. Maybe he does this all the time, but I don’t think so.” She played with an empty glass on the table. “You know I read those stupid Hollywood rags all the time. It’s amazing I didn’t recognize him actually. I should have, but anyways,” she said, flapping her hand through the air. “He’s this big-time bachelor, and he’s always with a different woman. Sometimes they call him the ‘big fish.’ It’s a stupid name, now that I know him. He actually seems like a really decent guy, and that’s hard to believe considering who he is.”
“Thanks, Mandy.” She gave her a quick hug. “I’ve got enough to juggle in my life, I don’t need to go fishing.”
She strolled back to her room deep in thought. By the time she slipped her card through the door reader she knew what she was going to do.
“Mr. Porter,” she said when he answered his cell.
“Sweetheart, what’s up? I’m just heading back to my car. I had to pick something up. I’ll be there at six.”
“Steven, I think I’m going to hang around here tonight.” The line went quiet for longer than it should have.
“Are you not feeling well?”
“No, that’s not it.”
“Moira, I’m just going to grab a shower first. Then we can talk.”
“No, we don’t need to talk.” She played with the fringe on the green satin pillow that sat next to her on the couch. “Steven, you’ve been very kind, but I just—”
“Moira, please, just give me thirty minutes. Have a shower and I’ll see you shortly.”
Her head cranked around when an alarm began.
“What’s that sound?”
“I think it’s the fire alarm.” She stood up and opened the door to the hallway, and got the full force of the alert. There was no doubt it was the fire alarm. She smelled for smoke—nothing. Suddenly, doors began to spring open down the hall. People popped their heads out like gophers from a hole.
“Moira, get downstairs.”
“It’s probably a false alarm.”
“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in two minutes. Get out of the hotel.”
“Don’t be silly, Steven. I’ll find out what’s going on, and I’ll call you back.” She cut him off, and threw the phone on the counter.
* * * *
“Moira—get out of the hotel—now!” The line went dead. “God damn it.” Steven quickly dialed Vince’s number, but it was busy. He thrust the phone into his pocket. Weaving through traffic, he reached the hotel in less than three minutes.
“Shit.” Dark, black smoke poured from the top floor of the west wing. Moira was on that floor but on the east side. The flames erupted from several windows, licking at the air for more strength. Hundreds of people already congregated out front. He ran from the car, pushing his way through the crowd, looking everywhere at once. He’d beat the fire trucks, but the siren’s bereft call wasn’t far off.
He spotted Vince, surrounded by a security team. “Vince!” He muscled his way into the circle. “Vince, what the hell is going on?”
“Don’t know yet, Steven, but as you can see, my resort is burning.
”
“Moira’s on that floor.”
“I’ve got my security team throughout the hotel doing room checks. I’m sure she’s coming out with the rest of the guests.”
The first two fire trucks arrived on scene. They slowed to pass through the crowd. Already in their gear, the firefighters jumped from the vehicles, headed toward the entrance.
“Steven.” He heard his name called and swiveled. “Steven, over here.” Mandy was waving with both arms. He ran toward her. Sasha, Patti, Callie, and Marcus stood in a tight group.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“We thought she was with you,” Mandy said, looking around, her brow wrinkling. “She left us at the pool, and said she was going back to the room.”
“She was in her room. I was talking with her when the alarm went off.”
“Then she’s probably on her way down,” Callie said, her attention glued to the top floor.
Patti thrust her hand to shield her eyes, looking up into the sky. “We’re talking about Moira here, Callie, you know what she’ll do.”
“What do you mean?” Steven asked, a heavy feeling dropping into his chest.
“She’s not just going to run for the stairs. She’s going to start banging on doors and helping people out,” Sasha said.
“She can’t do that,” he said, turning quickly to look at every face as people emerged from the hotel lobby.
“That fire is spreading fast, guys, it’s already taken at least fifteen rooms, and it’s jumped a floor,” Callie said. “This is not good. They’ll have to fight the fire from inside. It’s too high.”
Callie didn’t sound like a fun-loving little brat anymore. Even her voice had changed, and she was all business.
“I see her,” Marcus called behind him, starting to run.
The rest of the crew started to run as well, following Marcus. Moira had her arm wrapped around an old woman’s waist, helping her out of the hotel. She passed the woman off to a security guard, and said something to him quickly, then turned to run back inside.
“Moira,” Mandy called, reaching her first.
“Don’t talk, let’s go. There’s hundreds of people coming down the stairs and a lot of them are older. They’re having trouble. We need to help.”
Steven grabbed her arm to stop her. “No, Moira, that’s what the firemen do.”
“There’s only two trucks on scene. They need more resources, we’re it for now until more arrive.” She turned to head back inside.
“Moira, no. You’re not going back in there.”
She ripped her arm from his grasp. “Help or back off,” she ordered.
A young man and three of his friends who stood close by turned to face them. Their hair was shaved to barely a stubble. They wore khaki green shirts, and dog tags hung from each of their necks. In the prime of their life, they looked fit, and they were big guys. One of them stepped forward. “Ma’am, did you just say they need help in there?”
“Yes, are you military?” Moira asked.
“Yes, ma’am, Marines.”
“Then follow me,” she ordered.
Steven ran behind them. “They’re not going to let you back in there,” he said.
The confusion and amount of people swarming from the front doors was hard to control, but the traffic pattern was in one direction. Three security guards stretched their arms out to stop them as they approached the entrance. Moira didn’t even slow down. “Coast Guard, Marines.” She pointed at those who were with her. “You need all the help you can get.”
One of the security guards dropped his arms. “Go ahead, ma’am.”
Fuck, so much for that idea, Steven thought.
Moira stopped in the lobby and turned as her crew and the marines circled her. “Callie, Marcus, and Sasha take these big guys with you,” she said, pointing at two of the marines, “and head for the west staircase. Help those that are closest first and urge others to help people who aren’t making it down the stairs fast enough. They’ll bottleneck at the bottom, causing trouble up top. Go.” She turned to Patti, Mandy, and the other two marines. “Follow me to the east staircase. Mandy, I want you on ground level. Patti, you hand off to her. You two”—she motioned to the marines—“head to the upper floors and help from up there. Understand the plan?” she asked.
They nodded, and her crew disappeared into the opposing flow of people. She turned to face him. “Steven, go back outside. You’re responsible for a lot of people, you shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Christ, woman, shut up and let’s go.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her along with him, heading for the stairs.
Chapter Ten
Mandy met them, already coming back with a woman who had to be in her late eighties. The old girl leaned against Mandy who held her up with a strong arm clasped around her. A gentleman in his later years walked beside them trying to help, but he was barely managing himself.
Steven yelled at a security guard who stood on the side of the walkway keeping the traffic flowing.
“Yes, sir,” the guard said as he met them.
“Take this woman, and get her to the entrance.”
He turned. Moira had disappeared into the crowd. “Let’s go, Mandy.”
He fought his way through the people exiting the stairwell.
“Sir, you can’t go back up,” said a man in a suit with an earpiece and curly cord tucked into the neck of his shirt.
Steven could see that Moira had been right. People weren’t clearing the exit fast enough, and it was causing a backup. “You need to push people through here faster,” he yelled, so the guy could hear him over the clatter of conversation. He edged his way into the crowd and kept to the right side of the stairwell. “When you get to the exit, pick up the pace,” he said to people as they made their way down the stairs. Where the hell was Moira?
He met one of the marines on his way down with a young woman in his arms wearing a full-length leg cast. “Have you seen Moira and the others?”
“Which one’s Moira?”
“The small one, shoutin’ orders.”
“Yeah, she’s already on the tenth floor. There’s a lot of people still at that level. It thins out after that, but I didn’t get to the top. And the smoke is getting into the stairwell from above. That shouldn’t be happening. The positive pressure should keep the air flowing out of the stairwell,” he yelled, not stopping. “There has to be a door open up above, and it’s just feeding the fire with pressurized air.”
He climbed another two floors, watching for someone who was having difficulty, but everyone moved as carefully and as quickly as they could. At the sixth floor, he met one of the other marines. Three kids hung off him, one under each arm and another clinging to his neck like a little monkey, the worried mother close behind. “Have you seen my friends?”
“They’re on the tenth floor, man. There must be a tour of old-timers all stacked together up there. The firemen and your friends are there trying to get them out.”
“Thanks.” He took the stairs two, sometimes three at a time. He yanked open the tenth floor fire door as Patti was coming from the other side.
“Steven, thank God. The firemen have control of the elevator, and they took some in wheelchairs down already, but there’s more. They’ll have to be carried.”
He held the door open for Patti. She gripped the old-timer’s arm around her shoulder, bolstering him up. “We’re going to be fine. One step at a time, sir,” she said.
“Where’s Moira?”
“She’s to your right, down at the end of the hall.”
An acrid scent of plastic, wood, and burning cloth permeated the air. It filled Steven’s nose as he ran into the hallway, but he couldn’t see any smoke yet. Two firemen came toward him, each carrying someone.
“Sir, you have to get off the floor.”
“I’m here to help. Where’s Moira?”
“If you’re talking about the bossy little brunette, she’s down there.” He jerked his head behin
d him.
He looked up to see Moira helping another man. Their hands were linked together, and an old woman whose legs had atrophied from lack of use sat between them clad in a pale pink nightgown.
“Moira,” he called out.
She jerked her head up. “Steven, there’s a man in one of the rooms behind us. He’s crippled, he’s big, and he’s resisting rescue. Can you help him? Two rooms behind us, right hand side. The doors propped open.”
He nodded, and found the man sitting on the bed. He wasn’t big, he was huge, weighing in at well over three hundred pounds, and at least six foot six. “Hello? Hey there, I’m here to give you a hand outta here,” he said.
“No, son, I can’t make it,” the old man said, shaking his head.
“Don’t give up yet, old-timer. Come on,” he urged.
“No, son, save somebody else. I’ve lived a full life.”
He knew every second that passed, the fire was eating the top floors making its way to them. He knelt in front of the old man. “What’s your name?”
“Klaus.”
“I’m Steven, and we have two choices. I stand here and burn to death beside you or I help you. There’s more rescuers coming behind me. We’re going to get everyone out, and that means you, too.”
“It’ll take three men to get me down those stairs.”
“Don’t think so, just me, come on we’re going. Besides, if I don’t get you out of here, I won’t hear the end of it from the woman I think I’m falling for. So gimme a break here.”
The old boy’s watery, blue eyes looked down at him. “Women like heroes.” He chuckled.
“Well, I don’t know whether I’m a hero in her eyes, but I followed her into a burning building, and I’m going to carry you out of here if I have to. There’s got to be some brownie points in that, and you’re going to help me.”
The old man jerked his head in agreement, and slung his arm across his shoulders.
“All right, can you use your legs at all?”
“Not much left in this old workhorse,” he said.
Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 14
