by Ruth Langan
She looked up. “Thanks, Drew. That was really nice. But I’m afraid this can’t wait.”
“No problem.”
She sighed and watched as Drew set the remains of their lunch on the tray and quietly let himself out of her office.
It had been a pleasant interlude. But now it was time to get back to reality.
“Just look at them.” Jeremiah Cross stood outside the double doors of the ballroom and watched the parade of high school seniors. The girls floated by in their pastel prom gowns, while the boys made every attempt to look casual in their rented tuxedos. “I don’t believe I was ever that young.”
Celeste patted his arm. “I was just thinking the same thing.”
“You?” He swiveled his head to look her in the eye. “You’re in the prime of your life. Why, when I was your age, I had the feeling that the whole world was mine for the taking.”
“And did you take it, Jeremiah?”
He winked. “You bet I did. With both hands.” He pointed at the throng of students dancing. “But I never went to one of these.”
“Neither did I.”
At her admission he turned to her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that the senior prom is strictly an American tradition. They didn’t offer it in the Swiss boarding school I attended.”
“Well then, we’re going to have to do something about that little omission from your youth.” The old man made a grand bow. “Miss Celeste Sullivan, may I have this dance?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse. She’d already lingered here long enough. She had at least a dozen more things to see to before the evening ended. But he looked so sweet, his gnarled old hands reaching out to hers.
With a laugh she nodded. “Jeremiah, I thought you’d never ask.”
Fortunately the music was something soft and slow. Not that it would have mattered. Jeremiah Cross appeared to be a man who moved to his own music. He swept her into a graceful waltz, and they moved along the fringes of the dancers.
Celeste looked up into twinkling blue eyes. “Jeremiah, you’re a wonderful dancer.”
“Thank you.”
She shot him a speculative look. “You’re too smooth to be a rookie. Have you been holding out on me? I know we’ve never talked about this before, but were you a professional dancer in your youth?”
“I did a little of it.”
“A little? You did more than a little. Where did you do this dancing?”
“On Broadway. During one of those many breaks to restore my spirit.”
“Oh, be still my heart. I’m dancing with a professional dancer.”
“On Broadway we called ourselves hoofers.”
She gave a laugh as he twirled her and spun her, all the while deftly moving her around the floor until they arrived back where they’d started.
As the music ended he released her, then made a graceful bow. “Thank you for letting an old man remember his youth.”
“And thank you, Jeremiah, for my first prom dance.”
He lifted her hand to his lips, then turned. “Good evening, Mr. Hampton.”
“Jeremiah.” Drew kept his gaze on Celeste. “What did you mean by your first prom?”
“I was telling Jeremiah that it’s an American custom. They didn’t have proms at my boarding school.”
“That’s a shame. You missed something special.”
“Exactly what I was telling her.” The old man stepped aside and neatly pushed the two together. “Show her what she missed, Mr. Hampton.”
Drew felt the brush of her body against his and smiled as his arms came around her. “Care to dance?”
“No, I…”
It was too late. He was already moving her slowly to the music. She held herself stiffly, trying not to feel his hand at her back, or the way his breath skimmed her cheek. Or the brush of his body against hers.
“I suppose you went to a lot of proms.” She looked up at him, then away, hoping he couldn’t feel the way her heart had suddenly gone into spasm.
“One. My senior year. It set me back so much money, I had to work overtime for a month. But it was worth it. I took Rosemary Tucci. She was considered the babe of the class. Big brown eyes. Big hair. Big…” He shrugged. Grinned. And was glad to see that she was laughing.
“It bought me a lot of bragging rights.”
“I suppose that’s important to a guy.” She struggled to ignore the heat of his touch, but it was impossible.
“Everything’s important to a guy when he’s young and restless and his testosterone is raging.”
“I thought that was a condition of men until they were a hundred and five.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Guilty, ma’am.”
Celeste was grateful when the music ended. This was much too uncomfortable.
As they stepped apart, she saw Jeremiah looking unusually pleased with himself. He was such an old dear. He probably thought his little attempt to get her a dance partner more her age was nothing more than a harmless distraction. He couldn’t possibly know what it did to her heart.
“Well.” She kept her tone light. “Now I see what I missed.”
Drew nodded toward the courtyard, aglow with hurricane candles. “You also missed the wine-tasting. Want to get some dinner?”
Just then her cell phone rang. As she retrieved it from her pocket she shook her head. “Sorry. My day’s not over yet. But you go ahead.”
When she walked away Drew folded his arms over his chest and watched in silence. He needed to beware what he asked for. He’d come here hoping she hadn’t changed too much. That much had been given him. But it would seem that her attitude about work hadn’t changed either. She still thought she could outsmart time and work around the clock without paying a price.
What she needed, what she’d always needed, was somebody to see to all the little details of living, while she was busy working.
What she needed, he thought with a frown, was a keeper.
He looked up to see Jeremiah watching him. With a wave of his hand he strode away.
Celeste glanced at the ancient clock in the entrance foyer. Two-thirty in the morning, and she’d been on her feet since early the previous morning. She smiled at the sleepy night clerk manning the front desk as she made her way to the elevator.
Just as she stepped inside and punched the button to the top floor, she heard a footstep and looked up to see Drew stepping in beside her.
“Aren’t you keeping awfully late hours?”
His smile was quick. “I might say the same for you. Is this a typical day?”
She sighed. “It seems to be a trend lately.” She glanced over. “What floor are you on?”
“The top floor.”
Her smile vanished. “And how did that happen? Did you request it?”
“As a matter of fact, your reservation clerk, Bitsy, assigned it. If that’s a problem for you, I could ask her to change it.”
“No. Of course not.” Celeste dismissed the quick flutter of nerves as simple exhaustion. He couldn’t possibly have known where she was staying. Could he?
When they reached the top, the doors glided silently open and Drew waited for her to step out first. They padded along the hallway carpeted in rich burgundy, dimly lit by ancient copper sconces outfitted with bulbs that flickered like candles.
She paused outside the door of her suite. After withdrawing the key from her pocket and unlocking the door, she turned. “I must say, I never dreamed when I left my room this morning that I’d be saying good-night to you, Drew.”
He gave her a lazy smile and took a step closer, enjoying the way she backed up. “You know what they say. What a difference a day makes.”
She hesitated when she felt the cool wall behind her. “I suppose you’ll have to file a report before you turn in.”
He shook his head. “Unlike you, Celeste, I’m not driven to cram twenty-five hours into every twenty-four.”
“Really? Then you
must have had an epiphany since you started working at Van Dorn. The Drew Hampton I knew used to love working around the clock.”
He shrugged. “I’m willing to save something for another day. Tomorrow’s soon enough.”
“Then I hope tomorrow always comes for you.”
He reached out and caught a strand of her hair, watching as the fiery strands sifted through his fingers. “I’m counting on it.”
She fought the nerves that skittered along her spine. “Goodnight, Drew.”
When she started to turn she felt his hand at her shoulder. She spun back, determined to put him in his place.
He recognized all the signs of temper. The fire in those green eyes, like points of flame. The flare of nostrils. The defiant lift of her chin. Her temper had always been wonderful to watch, like a display of brilliant fireworks.
“I’m so glad you haven’t changed, Celeste.”
“But I have changed. And, in case you haven’t noticed, so have things between us. I don’t want you touching me, Drew.”
“Sorry. I have to. Just this once.” His hands closed around her upper arms as he dragged her close and lowered his face to hers.
Reading his intention, her throat went dry, her eyes narrowed with disapproval.
He took no notice as his mouth covered hers.
At first the kiss was soft, hesitant. Celeste knew she ought to pull back, slap his face and lock herself away in her room where she would be safe. But it was already too late. The instant his mouth moved over hers, she was lost.
She stood very still, absorbing shockwave after shockwave, while the floor seemed to pitch and tilt, and her mind was wiped clean of every thought except one. He was the only man who had ever had the ability to affect her like this. His were the only lips that had ever made the earth move. And the hands moving along her shoulders, down her back, setting tiny fires along her spine, were the only ones capable of reducing her to whimpers of pure pleasure.
She hated that. It was a weakness in herself she despised. But there it was.
He’d known. The minute he’d seen her this morning, he’d known that all the feelings were still there between them. Or at least he’d hoped. And when he’d held her on the dance floor, it had all come flooding back to him. The heat. The fire. The need. Now, holding her, kissing her, all doubt was gone. Nothing had changed. He still wanted her.
He knew he had to stop. But he couldn’t find the will. Not yet. Not when her lips were so sweet, and her sighs were filling his mouth with the honeyed taste he’d never been able to forget. Not when he was drunk on the perfume of wildflowers that filled his lungs.
He lingered over her lips a moment longer, drawing out the taste, the pleasure, until he could summon the strength to step back. It would be so easy to drag her inside and shut out the world. To take and take until they were both sated. It was what he wanted. All he wanted. And right now, hearing her sighs of pleasure, he had no doubt it was what she wanted, too. But it was all happening too fast. There were too many barriers between them now.
Calling on all his willpower he lifted his head. Keeping his hands on her shoulders he waited until his world settled.
He pressed his lips to a tangle of hair at her temple. “Goodnight, Celeste.”
Without a word she turned and walked through the doorway, then closed the door firmly and threw the bolt.
She leaned her forehead against the closed door and listened to his muffled footsteps. When she heard the door open and close across the hall, she let out a long, deep sigh.
All those feelings she’d thought dead and buried had suddenly come rushing back, catching her by surprise. And all it had taken from Drew Hampton was one kiss. One simple kiss to light the fire.
Simple? She touched a fingertip to her lips. There had been nothing simple about that kiss. The touch of him, the taste of him, were still there, as powerful, as potent as ever.
She crossed the room and sank down on the edge of the bed, feeling completely shattered.
Why had he walked back into her life now? Was this about business? Or was there something else going on?
Either way, she had to gather the courage to keep him from getting to her. Otherwise she’d never have any self-respect left when he was gone.
And he would be gone, she reminded herself. A day or two at most, was all that would be needed to observe the operation here and examine the books. And then Drew Hampton would be gone again. Blowing into and then out of her life like a fierce summer storm. Charging the air with electricity. Bringing with him lightning and thunder and darkness.
And when he was gone she’d be like those flowers left in the wake of the storm. Flattened. Their petals torn and ragged.
But standing, she reminded herself. When he left she’d still be standing. As long as she took measures now to toughen herself against the forces of the battering wind and rain.
Chapter 3
Celeste had her morning routine down to a fine art. A steamy shower, followed by a cool spray to wake her. Her hair was cut so perfectly that all it needed was a few flicks of the brush, a quick dry, and every lock fell into place. With her complexion, all that was required was blusher and light eyeliner, followed by lip gloss. She slid her feet into simple bronze pumps and straightened the jacket of her bronze Armani suit, and she was ready for the day.
She picked up her phone to tuck into her pocket and was reminded of the phone message she’d discovered from her grandfather.
“Celeste, darlin’. I’ve been hearing such good things about you and the Old Liberty Tavern. Some fascinating news. You remember Andrew Hampton? He’s with Van Dorn Hotels now. Fine young fellow. Van Dorn is interested in acquiring a hotel in New Hampshire. I’ve given Andrew my blessing to visit you and observe your operation. Give him the VIP treatment while he’s there. This could be quite a feather in your cap, darlin’ lass. I hear Van Dorn pays top dollar if they see something they really want to acquire.”
Celeste made a mental note to call her grandfather later. He’d sounded oddly elated at the news that Drew was coming to observe her operation. And that puzzled her more than she cared to admit. Why was Grandpa Sully so eager to sell her hotel to a competitor?
Her hotel.
She stopped in her tracks. She’d taken over the operation of several failing hotels. Always with the knowledge that once they were earning their potential, she would move on. So why was this one different?
In the year she’d been here, she’d taken the Old Liberty Tavern from the lowest rung of Sullivan Hotels to a respectable standing, with a better than average profit statement. But that didn’t explain why it had become this personal crusade. She had no answer for it. True, she’d poured her heart and soul into it. But that had been so with every one of the hotels she’d been sent to restore. Why had this one become different from the rest?
Maybe because of its age and history. It reminded her of so many of the European inns she’d stayed in during her childhood. Maybe it was the town and the people. From the beginning they’d made her feel welcome here. As if she’d come home. As if she were living her childhood dream.
Still, it wasn’t like her to want to make one of the Sullivan hotels her own. She’d never before had the inclination to put down roots and stay in one place.
Still shaking her head, she let herself out of her room and locked the door, ready to face another day of nonstop work.
“’Morning. I thought I heard your door opening.”
She turned to find Drew just stepping out of his room. Was it a coincidence? Or had he been waiting for her?
“Good morning.” She kept her tone impersonal as she moved toward the elevator.
He pushed the button, then stood back with an admiring glance.
She caught his grin. “What’s so funny?”
He shook his head. “Some things never change.”
“Such as?”
“The way you always manage to look, even first thing in the morning, like you’re just stepping on
to a fashion runway.”
“And you find that funny?”
“I find that amazing.”
She was grateful for the arrival of the elevator. She didn’t want to stand here making small talk with him.
As she stepped in and punched the button, she was achingly aware of him standing beside her. Why did he have to look so good? So rugged and earthy, despite the perfectly tailored suit and Italian leather shoes. She would much prefer to concentrate on what had gone wrong between them when they’d parted. But when she looked at him, at that sexy heart-stopping grin, at that teasing glint of humor in his eyes, it wasn’t easy to remember the bad times. She found herself forgetting everything except the way she’d felt whenever he kissed her. The way that hard, muscled body felt pressed to hers. The way her heart always seemed to beat faster whenever he touched her.
After that kiss last night, all those old feelings were even closer to the surface. But hopefully, after today, he’d be gone. And she could get back to her life the way it had been before this painful reminder of her past.
As the elevator came to a stop on the main floor he followed her into the foyer. “Do you have time to share a little breakfast?”
“No.” She glanced pointedly at her watch, then headed toward her office. “But thanks anyway.”
He watched her walk away, then made his way to the coffee shop. Along the way he stopped in the gift shop. Armed with several newspapers, he settled down to devour the financial sections while enjoying the chef’s special breakfast of strawberries dipped in powdered sugar, followed by eggs scrambled with green pepper and onion and a sizzling breakfast steak.
Drew had eaten hotel meals all over the world. He considered himself an expert on what worked in a hotel and what didn’t. It occurred to him that the food here at the Old Liberty Tavern was some of the best he’d tasted. Much of it was simple fare. But it was tasty and prepared to perfection.
A little while later he looked up when Jeremiah paused beside his table.
“’Morning, Jeremiah.”
