by Jo Leigh
4
TRACE WALKED PAST her to the window and looked out at the view of the skyline. Impressive. He turned, scanning the space.
The color scheme was pastel, with sharp additions of crimson and black. He could see the attention to detail in everything from the crown molding to the silk drapes. Piper had clearly spared no expense here. It was the kind of penthouse designed to make the rich feel privileged, that catered to the most discriminating tastes. In fact, it reminded him of the Burj Al Arab hotel in Dubai—the only seven-star hotel in the world. Piper was aiming high.
“Let’s see the rest.” He stepped forward, but she headed away before he got too close. Which was good because his body thrummed with a need that was purely sexual.
It was insanity. His private hell. He wished he could forget about his job and just screw her through the mattress.
He followed her into the master bedroom. She’d walked over to the incredibly huge four-poster bed and her hand, with her long, narrow fingers, her perfect pink nail polish, rested on one of the plush pillows.
“We had the bed custom-made, along with all the linens. It’s larger than a California King, and the sheets are six-hundred-count Egyptian cotton. Which, by the way, we’ve used on all the beds in the hotel.”
“Not cheap.”
“Worth it,” she said, her hand skimming the detailed cherrywood headboard.
He wrestled his attention to other appointments. The velvet chaise, the deep burgundy walls, the modern crystal chandelier.
He heard a soft hum, and right in front of the chandelier, he watched a large slim screen lower from a hidden recess in the ceiling. Walking around to her side of the bed, he waited until the screen was in position. “Plasma?”
“The best there is,” she said. She pointed to a panel on the sleek bedside table. “Everything in the suite can be controlled from here. The temperature, the drapes, the sound system, the TV.” She pressed a button and the elegant draperies opened to reveal another floor-to-ceiling glass wall.
“So where’s the sex?” he asked.
“Everywhere,” she said, pointing him to a large armoire in the corner. “There are films, books, cameras, condoms of all kinds….” She swung the cabinet doors open. “Everything for the adventurous couple.”
He could see that. Aside from the items she’d mentioned, there was another aspect of adventure well stocked. Silk scarves, fur-lined cuffs, a leather harness, riding crop. And that’s all that was on immediate display.
“Of course,” she said, “all really intimate accessories are gifts from the hotel. Something to remember Hush by when the guests go home.”
He struggled to keep his expression neutral. All he could think about were the cuffs, with Piper’s wrists in them. The dark-red scarf covering those too-knowing eyes. Her body, stretched to its limit on that enormous bed.
Her hand moved from the cabinet door to the small of her throat. It was too easy to let his gaze move up those few inches to slightly parted lips, to the high color in her cheeks. To the hunger in her dangerous blue eyes.
PIPER CONTROLLED her breathing, but she couldn’t stop her heart from slamming in her chest. She tried to turn away from the heat of Trace’s gaze. She couldn’t move. Not an inch. Because what she saw in his eyes made everything that had happened in the past ten years vanish.
He wanted her. No denial would ever be enough to convince her otherwise. She’d seen him like this before, and as before, her sanity fled and her imagination took over.
Images tumbled as the strange connection between them grew: his face contorting in a mask of passion as he came inside her, the feel of his lips as they tugged at her nipples. How he would teach her what it was to let go, which didn’t make a damn bit of sense because the man was the epitome of stodgy.
Of course she’d had lovers after her embarrassing seduction fiasco with Trace. He might have turned her away, but others hadn’t. Unfortunately, dream-lover Trace was far more interesting than her real lovers had been. Not that she’d never had fun. Heavens no. But there was always something missing. Something she’d made up in her weird little brain.
The smartest thing she could do would be to just throw the man on the bed, right now, this minute, rip off his pants and get it over with already. There wasn’t a chance he could live up to the man she’d imagined. And then she could hate him in earnest.
He took a step. One step. That was enough. She broke free, turned her head, closed the armoire. Came back to her senses. “The bathroom is also designed for couples,” she said, forcing herself to walk casually.
For a blessed minute he didn’t join her, which gave her time to finish calming down.
“It’s big.”
She turned to Trace standing by the tub. “Big enough for four adults,” she said, grateful to be on an even keel. “There’s a separate sound system, a television, full access to lighting and an intercom.” She pointed to the freestanding shower. “Six showerheads plus the water bar. It’s also a steam room. The floor is heated from below, the towels are warmed to body temperature.”
“What, no oiled towel boys?”
She smiled. “For you, honey? We’d make an exception.”
“Oh, funny. You’re a scream.”
“You make me look good, lover.”
“In your dreams.”
She opened a mirrored cabinet which revealed shelves stocked with black-and-pink bottles. “We have signature scents, oils, soaps, lotions, shampoos. A small company in Brooklyn makes everything for us. Exclusively.”
“You’ve thought of everything.”
“Probably not. Yet.”
He ran his hand across the marble of the double sinks. “Okay, I can’t put this off any longer. Why? Why the sex angle? You must have known your father would never go for it.”
At last. A conversation Piper was completely prepared for. “It’s a niche that needed filling.”
“Pardon the pun?” he said, his lips turning up at the corners.
“No, I don’t think I can pardon that. I’ve done my homework, Trace. There’s nothing like this in Manhattan. Nothing.”
“Not even in Times Square?”
“I think your insistence in equating sex with sleaze is something you need to discuss with your therapist.”
He laughed. “Right. I’m probably the only person in New York who thinks a hotel designed for sex is tawdry.”
“No, you’re just one of the sadly misinformed. This hotel is about pleasure. Consensual, mutual pleasure.”
“The Kama Sutra in the bedside drawer? The cameras, the sex toys? Come on, Piper, don’t tell me this whole place doesn’t pander to the worst common denominator. You know damn well you’re going to supply the tabloids with years of grist.”
“And that’s bad for business how?”
“It’s not the way Devons do business.”
“Devons make money. I’m going to make tons of it. Just like always, it’s the bottom line that makes my father happy, and you know that as well as I do.”
Trace shook his head. “How can you be this naive? I could almost understand if this was Kyle’s idea. Not that he’d be foolish enough to piss off Nicholas like this, but he’s been known to make some bonehead moves.”
“What?” She leaned back against the door. “A disparaging comment about my brother? I thought the two of you were thick as thieves.”
“Kyle’s a decent kid.”
“Kyle’s a suck-up of the first order. If Dad says jump, all he knows how to do is ask ‘How high.’”
“He understands what’s at stake. He listens to your father. He’s not in the tabloids every other day.”
“Oh, right. Kyle, the apple of Daddy’s eye. You know what he told me? What he’s going to do with his trust-fund money?”
“No. What is he going to do?”
“He’s going to invest in Devon Industries. I mean, please.”
“He’s not dumb.”
“Oh, wait. I forgot that everything’
s about money. Always and forever, amen.”
“What are you doing this for, if not your inheritance?”
She shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“No?”
“Not a chance.”
He stepped toward her. “Try me.”
She headed out of the bathroom, not willing to play this game another minute. Trace had proved beyond any doubt exactly what mattered to him in life. The buck. And the only way he was going to get those bucks was by being a slavish toady to Nicholas Devon. The hell with who got hurt.
“I’ll skip the suites,” she said, feeling him behind her as she crossed the living room. She was cutting the tour short, but she had to get this over with. “Let’s go down to the workout room, and then I’ll take you to the spa.”
“Fine.”
“I made dinner reservations for nine,” she said, closing the penthouse door behind her.
“Fine,” he said again, sounding as frustrated as she felt. He walked ahead of her and called for the elevator. “I’d like to see the books.”
“What, the one in your nightstand isn’t enough?”
He gave her one of his patented glares. But just for a second. Then he turned away with a shake of his head.
The elevator door opened, and he held it for her. She passed him, careful not to get too close. She didn’t want a repeat of what had happened in the penthouse bedroom.
What she needed here was a plan. Some way to get past all this defensive bullshit. She needed Trace as an ally, not a sparring partner. Unfortunately, she had a terrible tendency to speak before she thought when she was with Trace. Her reaction just came so naturally. Strike before she was struck. It had been like that since she was seventeen.
“You coming?”
He stood by the open elevator door. She’d been so lost in her own thoughts she hadn’t realized they were at the fourth floor already.
She nodded, then headed for the workout room. It was very well equipped. Six treadmills, four elliptical trainers, a complete free weight set, Nautilus machines and more. She’d hired two professional trainers, and was in the process of finding two more. “We made sure the equipment was top-notch, and that the trainers are highly qualified.”
Trace wandered through the space. She wondered what he’d find to be critical about. She’d been to all the top hotels in the city and she knew this was one of the best facilities available. In fact, there was nothing second best at Hush.
“It looks good,” he said.
“Gee, thanks.”
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you think I’m here for, but as I told you last night, I’m here to help.”
“Right,” she said. “Do you want to see the spa?”
“Yeah, sure. Why not?”
Again, they went to the elevator, riding back up to the spa level. It was huge, covering most of the floor, and Piper was incredibly proud of how it had turned out. Everything was designed to ease the most stressed of guests, from the colors on the walls to the very air they breathed. Of course there were the regular Swedish and Shiatsu massages, but there was also aromatherapy, sensual, sports and other massages that offered cleansing of the chakras, balms for the soul.
Naturally, she didn’t broadcast her belief in such things and would have shot herself before she admitted it to Trace, who would have ridiculed her mercilessly. But the truth was, she felt strongly about the body/mind/universe connection. Only, when she was around Trace she become completely disconnected.
“What’s that smell?”
She looked at Trace who was sniffing the air, and she noticed the little furrow right between his eyes. A powerful urge hit to slowly run her tongue over that small patch of skin. She turned, cursing herself.
“Piper?”
“What?”
“The smell?”
“That’s a mix of eucalyptus and chamomile. For relaxation.” She breathed deep, putting the scent to the test as she turned back to face him.
“Ah.” He faced the wall of cascading water that made up the right side of the reception area.
“The water recycles,” she said. “It’s tested daily for any impurities. You could drink it with no ill effects.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
Caroline King walked into the room. She smiled at Piper, but when her gaze shifted to Trace, the smile changed. Piper had seen that reaction before. Trace was a very handsome man, but more than that, he had the kind of charisma that seemed to affect women in a very fundamental way. Fundamental, that was cute. The truth was, most women who saw Trace wanted to jump his bones.
Maybe there was a vaccine for that. She’d be first in line with her sleeve rolled up. Fact: the chemistry between them was undeniable. Now, how could she use it to her advantage?
“Piper has an appointment this evening,” Caroline said, after she’d introduced herself to Trace. “Why don’t you let me make one for you at the same time?”
“I’m sure Mr. Winslow has better things to do,” Piper said.
Trace turned away from the reception desk and gave her a smile that made her teeth clench. “I understand there are couples’ massages?”
“Oh,” Caroline said, tearing her gaze from Trace to look at her boss. “Of course.”
“That’s true,” Piper said, not at all ready to play this game. She needed time to think. To strategize. “They’re for couples.”
His smug smile said too much. “What other massages do you have?”
Caroline handed him the brochure they’d gotten from the printer only three days ago. While he looked at it, Caroline gave her a questioning look.
Piper answered with a small shake of the head. She wasn’t about to go into her history with Trace with any of the staff, no matter how much she liked them. Only one person knew about Trace and that was Lisa. But even Lisa didn’t know the whole truth.
“How about this sports massage?”
“It’s wonderful,” Caroline said. “If you have any specific areas that are giving you trouble, just tell your masseuse.”
“Six o’clock?”
Caroline smiled. “We’ll be ready for you.”
Trace nodded, then turned back to Piper. “That should give us enough time to finish the tour and with the CPA.”
“Thank you, Caroline. See you later.” Looking at Trace, she said, “You can go through the rest of the spa when it’s time for your appointment. I’ve got bartenders to interview before we can go over the accounting.”
He nodded, walking with her into the hall. “What was all that about the couples’ massage?”
“What?”
“Are we talking about breaking laws here? Is that why you didn’t want to take one with me?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s for lovers, okay? Not people you can barely tolerate.”
“Dost thou protest too much?”
“You wish, you perv.”
“Excuse me? Pot. Kettle?”
“Nothing in this hotel is illegal. Not at the pool, not in the gym and not in the spa.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I’m not a madam.”
“Then what’s the problem if there’s no line-crossing?”
She moved close to him, hating that she had to look up to meet his eyes. “Well, this explains a lot.”
He raised his brow.
“Lovers, Trace, are two people who care about each other more than they care for themselves. You can look it up if you don’t believe me.”
He took a step closer to her, invading her space. But she’d be damned if she’d back away.
“And you’d know about that, how?” he said dryly. “Oh, that’s right. Your latest rock-and-roll boy. I hear he has a really big…microphone.”
Piper trembled as she clamped her hands to her sides. “Have all the massages you want. Do it with a poodle for all I care. Do whatever you want, I don’t give a damn.”
“You’d miss me if I were gone.”
“Let’s try it and find out, shall we?”
He laughed. “God, you are a piece of work. You can take the woman out of the tabloids, but you can’t take the tabloids out of the woman.”
“You really don’t know the first thing about me, do you?” she asked. And then she turned on her heel and walked to the elevator. It was still open, and she pressed the button before he could join her. When the doors closed, she slumped against the wall. She wasn’t going to survive it. Not for a week.
He was her poison, her worst nightmare, and he knew more about making her insane than anyone, including her father.
TRACE DIDN’T CALL the elevator back. He ran his hand through his hair, annoyed that he’d baited Piper like that. She drove him completely insane. Who did she think she was trying to kid?
He’d known her for too long to buy into this game she was playing. She might be able to fool the media, but there was no way Trace was buying into her act.
The hotel was a game, pure and simple. A way to stick it to Daddy. Just like the musician boyfriends, the drugs and the parties, the ridiculous spectacle she made of herself. He’d seen the pictures, seen her in front of the paparazzi. She could have been so much more. But she preferred the attention, the notoriety. She had the makings of an incredible woman, but she just couldn’t break free from her image.
What he didn’t understand was why he cared. Why he still felt compelled to needle her, to make her squirm. Shit. Bad imagery. Damn.
THE INTERVIEW for the new bartender had gone well, and once they checked out Shandi’s references, she’d be a welcome addition. Just before four, Piper was in her office, going over the material the CPA would need for his meeting with Trace. She had no intention of staying.
Thankfully, her assistant, Angela, was so well informed that Piper wouldn’t be missed. She could tell Angela was confused about her skipping the meeting, but it didn’t matter. Piper had to get out, get away. There were a million things she could have done, but she wanted nothing to do with any of them. The second she could, she grabbed her bag and went down to the garage. She wasn’t sure where she was going, just anywhere but here. Anywhere Trace wasn’t.
