“I have the feeling the news, whatever it is, is going to be bad, too.”
JOANIE HAD no sooner clocked in for her Saturdayevening shift than she was told Elizabeth Jermain wanted to see her. Asking Jerry to watch the concierge desk just a little longer, she climbed the sweeping staircase to Elizabeth Jermain’s suite.
As usual, when asking for updates on hotel activities, Elizabeth opened her leather notebook and got straight to the point. “I understand two of our guests, Phoebe Claterberry and Senator Wright’s son, Dennis, caused a scene in the garden this afternoon, in which you acted as peacekeeper and referee.”
“That’s right,” Joanie said.
Elizabeth frowned. “Can we expect any more problems from those two?”
“Actually I don’t think they’re speaking to each other at the moment.”
“I’d like you to do what you can to insure that situation remains defused,” Elizabeth cautioned.
“I’ll do whatever I can,” Joanie said.
“Now, are there any problems you would like to discuss with me?” Elizabeth asked with a smile.
“Just one. A guest, Mrs. Frances Flannagan, checked out several days early, with no explanation, when she had already rented a cottage for an entire week. I’ve tried to follow up to determine what the problem was, but so far I haven’t been able to get in touch with her.”
Elizabeth looked worried. “Please keep trying. As you know, I don’t want any of our guests to go away unhappy.”
Joanie nodded in agreement. Their business concluded, she stood. “I set up a lot of activities for her while she was here. I’ll talk to the people she was with. Maybe one of them will have a clue as to why she left the way she did,” Joanie said.
Twenty minutes later the Bride’s Bay golf pro told Joanie, “Mrs. Flannagan canceled her lessons with me.”
“What do you mean she canceled them?” Joanie repeated incredulously. “She told me they were going well.”
The pro shrugged. “Maybe she thought it would hurt your feelings if you found out she’d changed her mind.”
“I suppose that could be it.”
Joanie ran into Liz outside the clubhouse. “I heard you’re asking questions about Mrs. Flannagan,” Liz said.
Joanie nodded as together she and Liz headed for the main hotel. “Turn up anything?” Liz continued.
Joanie shook her head as they walked past the marina, where a variety of rainbow-colored sailboats peppered the bay. “Not yet. I can’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, though.”
Liz shot Joanie a concerned glance. “With the service at Bride’s Bay?” she asked, looking equally concerned.
“It’s possible.” Joanie shoved her hands into her pockets as they strolled through the formal gardens and waved at the judge, who was out checking over his precious roses. She knew that as hard as she’d tried to keep up with her job, she’d been distracted the past few days. Caring for Emily and repairing her relationship with Steve had taken precedence.
“Maybe Mrs. Flannagan just got homesick and decided to go home on the spur of the moment,” Liz suggested as they breezed past the fountain in the center of the garden.
“Maybe.” Joanie pushed her hand through her hair. “In the meantime, though, I’m going to keep trying to track her down.” When she and Liz mounted the steps to the hotel and walked into the lobby, Elizabeth Jermain was seated behind the counter registering several guests while Shad Teach saw to their luggage. Joanie’s assistant, Jerry, was equally busy at the concierge desk.
Without warning, Steve appeared at Joanie’s elbow. “May I speak with you a moment?”
“I’ll lend my grandmother and Jerry a hand,” Liz said.
“I’ll just be a minute,” Joanie said. She led Steve into her office and shut the door behind her. He was dressed in a suit. She knew by the serious look on his face that he had some news. “What’s up?” she asked.
He paused as if he didn’t know where to begin. “Irene’s Topeka physician put me in touch with another physician in Kansas City,” he began reluctantly. He was pale, his gray eyes unrelentingly grim.
“And?” Joanie’s heart pounded.
He swallowed hard, then said, “Irene is dead, Joanie. She died six months ago.”
Chapter Twelve
“I don’t understand,” Joanie began, reeling in shock. She looked into Steve’s face. “Then where was Emily all that time?”
Steve sat on the edge of Joanie’s desk, looking as if he had the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. “With her only living relative, her sixty-nine-year-old grandmother, Frances Fiona Flannagan.”
“So it was Mrs. Flannagan who left Emily on my doorstep,” Joanie cleared a space on her desk so she could sit next to him.
Steve nodded, running a hand agitatedly through his hair. “Apparently.”
“I tried to call Mrs. Flannagan at her Kansas City home a few minutes ago. There was still no answer.”
A variety of emotions moved across Steve’s face. “I know,” he replied wearily, seeming distant. He hesitated. “Her physician referred me to a neighbor, who told me that Fiona expected to be away at least another week or two, and that, as much as it broke her heart, she would not be coming back with the baby. The neighbor thought, however, Fiona would change her mind. Hire a nurse. Anything to keep her granddaughter with her. Apparently Fiona was quite attached to Emily.”
“And no wonder,” Joanie said thickly. “She’s such a lovable little girl.” Joanie could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She pinched the bridge of her nose to keep them from falling. Steve needed her to be strong now. She wanted him to know he could count on her in times of hardship, as well as happiness.
“Well, this explains a lot,” Joanie went on evenly. “Why Mrs. Flannagan, or Fiona, hung around, asking so many questions, why she appeared to be hanging out around the staff quarters the night I did Emily’s laundry, why she delivered a second note telling you that you were the father when she knew we thought Emily had been left with me, not you.”
“The question is, what are Mrs. Flannagan’s intentions now?” Steve asked, the worried furrow between his brows deepening. “There’s still a lot to be worked out legally.”
And what are your intentions, Steve? If Mrs. Flannagan has changed her mind, will you figh t her for custody of Emily? Or simply share in the care of your child? And where do I fit in this picture? Will you still need me?
“And to do that we have to have Mrs. Flannagan here now,” Steve continued, tucking Joanie’s hand in his. He traced the inside of her wrist meditatively before releasing his grip. “I’ve got the detective checking the bus, plane and train stations right now, but I have the feeling she may not be as far away as she’d like us to think.”
“It’s possible she may have just gone over to a mainland hotel.” Joanie slipped off the desk and into her chair. She turned to her computer and reached for her phone. “I’ll get on it right away.
“In the meantime, maybe her partners in the bridge tournament know something,” Joanie suggested.
“Can’t hurt to ask,” Steve said.
“Especially since the Saturday-afternoon games haven’t wrapped up quite yet,” Joanie said.
“SO NONE OF YOU knew Mrs. Flannagan was leaving early?” Joanie asked the bridge players.
“No, but it wasn’t that big a surprise,” one said.
“She said she was homesick for a loved one,” another added.
The only “loved one” Mrs. Flannagan had now was Emily, Joanie thought. As she looked at Steve, she knew he was thinking the same thing. He, too, was worried they were going to lose Emily.
“She hadn’t imagined she could miss her loved one so much,” the first woman continued.
“Yes,” her partner confirmed. “And that made her have second thoughts about going so far away like this again.”
Joanie swallowed, realizing that what they were saying could mean that Mrs. Flannagan had changed her mind about rel
inquishing custody of Emily to Steve. “Did she say who the loved one was?”
“No, in fact she was downright coy about revealing it,” still another bridge player said. “But I had the feeling it wasn’t a beau she was talking about.”
Joanie glanced at Steve. The bridge players might not know, but she and Steve knew who the loved one was that Fiona had been talking about. Emily.
They thanked the guests and walked out into the hall.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Joanie asked.
Steve nodded, the tension in him almost palpable. “Whatever happens, it’s not going to be as simple and uncomplicated as we’d hoped.” He took her hand in his and looked into her eyes. “I’m going to need you more than ever.”
Joanie launched herself into his arms and held tight. “I’ll be here for you. I promise.”
STEVE’S SPEECH ended to a standing ovation and thunderous applause. A few minutes later the conference attendees began streaming out of the banquet hall. Joanie threaded her way into the hall, hearing comments as she went.
“Wow, what a speech!”
“Steve Lantz could motivate a stone into doing what he wanted!”
Phoebe Claterberry paused in front of Joanie. She was wearing a short, black-jersey tube dress that made her seem several years older than she was. Her hair was in a beguiling French twist. Still looking a little starry-eyed, Phoebe smiled at Joanie.
“I always knew what we did in the mentoring project was a good thing,” she said, “but Steve made all the sacrifices we make to be with the kids seem noble somehow. Like if we do it right it’s going to benefit us almost more than them.”
“Too bad he doesn’t have the solution to our problems,” Dennis Wright interjected, coming up to stand beside Phoebe.
“I’d hoped the two of you would’ve resolved your differences by now,” Joanie commented, trying her best to avert another emotional scene between the two college students.
Phoebe’s lip took on a pouty thrust. “I tried talking to him, Ms. Griffin. I think we should be the next James Carville and Mary Matalin—you know, opposing campaign managers who are romantically involved. But Dennis here refused.”
“I told you,” Dennis reminded Phoebe impatiently, “at this point in my life, my first loyalty has to be to my father and my political party.”
“See what I’m dealing with?” Phoebe said with an annoyed toss of her head. She whirled on her exboyfriend. “You haven’t got a romantic bone in your body, Dennis Wright!”
“And you, Phoebe, haven’t got a practical one in yours!” Exasperated, Dennis yanked at his tie and hurried off rudely.
Phoebe looked as if she was going to burst into tears.
“Are you all right?” Joanie asked, touching her arm.
Phoebe pulled herself together with visible effort. She gently blotted the tears sparkling on her lashes with the tips of her fingers. “Yes. But I need to talk to Steve.”
Joanie turned to see Steve heading for them, still signing autographs for the students as he went. Phoebe broke into a smile. She pushed through the crowd to his side and latched on to his arm the way a drowning person reached for a life preserver.
“Steve! I’m so glad I caught you before you left. I really, really need to talk to you.”
So do I, Joanie thought. But what could she say? She was an employee of the hotel. She couldn’t put her own needs above those of a Bride’s Bay guest, even if the guest’s demands were outrageously personal.
Steve looked at Joanie. “We’ll talk later,” she promised with a smile, knowing that he was as hamstrung as to what he could say and do as she was at the moment.
“Where are you going to be?” he asked, leaning forward and speaking into her ear so only she could hear.
“My quarters.”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Do what you have to do,” Joanie said, reassuring Steve with a look that said it was all right, she understood his dilemma. She turned on her heel and left.
When he arrived fifteen minutes later, Joanie had just finished rocking Emily to sleep. He let himself in. Together, as was their custom, they settled Emily in her crib for the night and went back into the living room, closing the door behind them.
“That was fast,” Joanie said. “I figured Phoebe would talk your ear off all evening.”
Steve acknowledged her comment with the quietly accepting shrug of one long accustomed to dealing with the complications set forth by adoring female fans.
“I like her, but she’s just a kid.”
“With one hell of a crush on you,” Joanie murmured.
Steve’s brows lifted inquiringly at the jealousy in her voice. Flushing beneath his close scrutiny, Joanie turned away.
“You noticed, hm?” he said wearily.
Joanie paced to the front window and drew the blinds. Crossing back to the small refrigerator, she struggled to get control of her feelings. It wasn’t easy; she was definitely feeling possessive tonight when it came to Steve.
“It would have been hard not to notice,” she said calmly. “In fact, that’s half the problem with her and Dennis Wright now. He sees her feelings for you, too.” And he felt just as jealous and insecure as Joanie did right now. Lord, that irritated her. She’d thought she’d put those days of feeling jealous and insecure where her relationship with Steve was concerned behind her.
“If Dennis cares about Phoebe as much as I think he does,” Steve said, “he’ll realize that his jealousy isn’t helping anyone and he’ll start trusting and believing in Phoebe again. Fortunately they’ll both be out of here tomorrow.”
He accepted the chilled water Joanie handed him and paused to take a sip. His reflective glance remained on her face as he changed the subject skillfully. “Any luck in finding Fiona?”
Joanie shook her head, glad to talk about something else. “There’s no Frances or Fiona Flannagan registered in any of the hotels in the central reservations system.”
Steve drained his glass and put it down with a thud. “I suppose it’s possible she registered under another name.”
“Or is staying at one of the bed-and-breakfast places or hotels not on the CRS network.”
He folded his arms and regarded her with a cool, unswerving gaze. “Are there a lot of them?”
“Approximately a hundred. So far, I’ve only managed to check about twenty-five.” Aware of his eyes upon her, Joanie went to the phone. “We could start again now if you want.”
“No.” Moving with surprising speed, Steve caught her wrist before she could pick up the receiver and tugged her to his side. “I’ll turn it over to the detective,” he murmured decisively. “He can follow through for us from here.”
Joanie tried to protest, the need in her to see things settled becoming unbearable. She didn’t want to have to keep worrying about anyone or anything coming between them.
But Steve had other plans. Hands on her shoulders, he turned her to him, so they were standing face-to-face.
“I don’t want to think about that tonight, Joanie,” he said. His arms tightening like an iron band about her waist, he drew her closer, so they were touching in one long electric line from knee to breast. His lips dipping
possessively to hers, he kissed her, at first deliberately and surely, then with an increasing edge of desperation. Joanie knew she shouldn’t let him distract her this way, but she could not quite muster up the will to fight him, either.
“Damn it, Steve, you’re not playing fair,” she moaned, and felt her whole body soften in surrender as his tongue flicked softly between her lips.
“I never play fair.” He paused to shrug out of his shirt and toss it aside. “I thought you knew that.”
Joanie watched with disturbing hunger as he stripped off the rest of his clothes with the easy familiarity of a man who had made incredible love to her before and planned to make incredible love to her again. A man who knew he already had her heart.
“I do,” she b
egan, “but—”
Wearing only his boxers, he closed the distance between them. “Tonight, I want to think about us, Joanie. And only us.”
That wouldn’t be hard to do, Joanie thought, acknowledging his victory over her when he was standing before her, looking so unselfconsciously handsome, virile and athletic.
Gripping her upper arms, he pulled her against his hard length. He stared down at her, the look in his eyes potent and extremely sexual, as he murmured persuasively, “Tell me it’s what you want, too.”
As much as it would have served her purpose, she couldn’t deny this was so. It was much easier to seek out love than go searching for trouble. “It’s what I want, too,” she admitted with a soft sigh, her voice a ragged whisper of need as she wound her arms about his neck.
“Good,” Steve said, shifting his mouth back to hers again in a sensual, seeking kiss. No longer able to deny her own relentless desire, unable to resist touching him, she caressed the crisp hairs on his chest and the smooth muscles beneath. He was so strong, so sure of himself, so sure of them.
His lips forged a burning trail down her body, following the path of easily undone buttons and snaps, before moving to the rosy buds of her taut breasts, covering them with butterfly-light kisses that made her tremble. She slid her arms back around his neck and wound her fingers into his hair. Eyes closed, her head thrown back, she luxuriated in the nuzzling of his lips on her bare skin. Everything inside her was quaking, yearning. They had just started, but she didn’t know how much longer she could wait.
“I want you,” she whispered, holding him close, arching her hips in response, as her love for him flowed through her. “I want you so much.”
“Then show me,” he said hoarsely, trembling, too. “Show me how you feel.”
“Like this?”Feeling more daring and wanton than she could have imagined possible, she slipped her hands inside his boxers, knelt to tug them down and off. On her knees in front of him, she caressed him intimately, even as her own body flooded with warmth.
Matchmaking Baby Page 19
