by Jo Leigh
Two limos were parked, ready to whisk her away. She could go to the Hamptons, Martha’s Vineyard, the airport.
Of course, she’d have to be back at some point. Despite her desire to disappear, the hotel was so damn close to opening, she couldn’t be away for long. Just thinking about all she had to do this week was enough to send her into a panic attack.
On the other hand, a panic attack would be better than what she was feeling now.
The valet stood at a respectful distance, sharp in his uniform, waiting attentively, but not obtrusively. Which was excellent, but it made her very aware that she was running away. That she’d let Trace get to her. Again.
She thought about going back inside, walking into the meeting as if nothing at all was wrong, but found herself wanting to head over to Fifth Avenue. Halfway to the limo, she heard something that stopped her. It wasn’t a voice, but a sound. A rather pitiful meow that cut straight through her roiling craziness.
It was dark in the garage and it wasn’t easy to discern the direction of the noise. A cat. A little one, she thought, but maybe it was just ill.
She hated that. Animals were her weakness, and although she donated a ton of money to shelters around the country, she still wanted to pick up every stray she saw. If she wasn’t careful, she’d turn into one of those cat ladies whose houses smelled like a litter box.
So she had three cats. No biggie. Her place was really large, and there was always someone around to take care of them.
The kitty cried again, and Piper got a bead on it behind the Dumpsters. She inched her way closer to the sad, sad sound, her heart aching. “Here, baby. Don’t be scared.”
Tiptoeing carefully, she looked behind a pillar, and almost didn’t see it. Thank goodness for the flash of green eyes. The cat wasn’t an infant, but it was young. And terribly dirty and so skinny Piper’s breath caught.
When she reached down, the cat didn’t try to run. She cried, but not with fear. Totally black, except for those emerald eyes, the cat curled into the crook of Piper’s arm, and that was it.
Piper walked right back into the hotel, straight to the laundry. In two days there would be three shifts working here, but now, she had the facility to herself. She went to one of the oversize sinks. The kitty needed to be cleaned first, fed second. As she waited while the water warmed, she got her cell and called the restaurant.
“This is Piper. I need a can of tuna in the laundry room.”
There was silence on the other end of the line. Then, “One moment, please.”
She turned off the water, and then she recognized head chef Jacob Hill’s voice. “Piper?”
She repeated her request.
“We don’t have canned tuna.”
“Oh. Do you have some fresh?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Could you grind some please, and have someone bring it to the laundry?”
Silence again, and then an amused, “Of course.”
It was there by the time the kitty was washed. Piper dried her with a towel, and the spiky-haired, damp cat attacked the tuna with a half purr, half growl.
For the first time that day, Piper felt at peace. Trace Winslow could go hang himself. She had someone to take care of now. Someone who’d love her, unconditionally. Who wouldn’t turn away from her, who wouldn’t break her heart. Who wouldn’t make her ache from a need that could never be assuaged.
“You’ll be Eartha Kitty,” she whispered. “And you’ll be mine.”
5
LISA SCOTT shut her office door as the interviews for the day concluded. She was inordinately pleased with the staff they’d hired, sure that Hush would be the most perfect place to stay in the city. She’d lived in hotels her whole life, and this one was extraordinary.
She just wished things were going as well in her personal life. She had no date to the big party. Yeah, she’d be working, so it wasn’t exactly a prime-date situation, but still. She was dateless. Had been dateless. Barely remembered dates at all. Maybe she could hire someone. An escort. Someone really hot who would follow her around like a puppy. Eww.
It wasn’t fair. Every straight man in the free world wanted to go out with Piper, and Piper didn’t want any of them. While none of the men in the free world gave her best friend a second look. At least not while Piper was in sight.
Perched on the edge of her desk, Lisa sighed. She should go outside the fold, meet people on her own. Take a class. Like Geocaching or oil painting.
In her copious free time. Right.
So she didn’t have a date for the party. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. And she wouldn’t, no matter what, go to the restaurant and eat half a gallon of Chef’s homemade ice cream.
A pint would have to do.
TRACE WALKED into the restaurant early, past the crush of well-dressed twenty- and thirtysomethings waiting for their names to come up. He knew Piper would show up at the last minute, and he wanted to form his own first impressions. It was an elegant room, but not overly so. Surprisingly, it was spacious, and the tables weren’t packed in next to each other. In fact, there were painted partitions between the tables that made each grouping distinct and private.
The maitre d’ was a beautiful long-legged beauty who he guessed was either a model or actress, maybe both. Just doing the restaurant gig by night, going on cattle calls and photo shoots during the day. It wasn’t quite as bad as Hollywood, but at a hotel like Hush there were bound to be a lot of hopefuls.
She led him to a table in the back, separated by floral arrangements instead of partitions, and treated him to a stunning smile as she left him with the menu and a silent invitation.
He responded with a nod, then turned his attention to the menu. It only took him a minute to decide on the seared tuna. The hotel theme had carried to the restaurant, with black tablecloths and pink accessories and the deco prints on the wall. If the food matched the level of the decor, the restaurant would do well.
A waiter arrived and Trace ordered a Stoli on the rocks. A glance at his Rolex made him look at the entrance, and sure enough, there was Piper, on time to the second.
She smiled graciously as she headed his way. Of course, everyone in the restaurant stared. She was Piper Devon, the tabloid queen. She handled it like a pro. Smooth as silk, making everyone in her path feel special.
She’d changed from the pants suit she’d had on earlier. Now she wore a pale-green dress, short to show off those incredible legs, and if it were any lower cut, it would have been a belt.
Her smile dimmed as she neared the table. He stood. Even with her heels she was almost a head shorter. And so slender, he wondered, for about the hundredth time, what it would feel like to hold her. He’d have to be careful. Nah, Piper was many things but fragile wasn’t one of them.
“Trace,” she said, as he held her chair for her.
“It’s a nice place,” he said, moving back to his seat.
“Yes, it is. The food’s wonderful. We’ve only been open two weeks and we’re booked for six months.”
He put his napkin back on his lap. “That’s great.”
“Speaking of great, how was your massage?”
“Excellent. Yours?”
“I’m a new woman.”
“I doubt that.”
The waiter came with his drink. Piper ordered a martini, the traditional kind, made with gin and two olives. When they were alone again, she touched the corner of her mouth with her finger, then leaned back in her chair. “What are you doing here, Trace?”
“I thought I’d eat.”
“Don’t be coy.”
“Me? You know exactly what I’m doing here. I’m giving you a chance. A way to make this work.”
“Do you agree with him?”
Trace nodded.
“Why?”
“Because gimmicks never last. The whole point of this exercise is to make a mark. An indelible mark. A respectable mark.”
“And the only way to do that is to recreate my father’s visi
on?”
“It’s been proven. Devon hotels have stood the test of time.”
“And so will Hush.”
“I don’t buy it,” he said.
Piper’s drink came, and they both ordered food. He waited for her to continue, anxious to know where she was heading with this. Despite what most of the world thought about her, Piper was no fool. She understood the game as well as anyone, so why the questions?
She made him wait. She sipped her martini, gave the room a slow once-over. When she finally faced him again, he recognized the determination in her eyes. “I have a proposition for you.”
“Oh?”
“Work with me this week. You know what I’m facing. Be part of it. Everything. The last-minute cosmetic touches, the dry runs to get the staff comfortable, the party, all of it.”
“And what, I’ll feel like it’s my hotel and use my influence to change your father’s mind? Come on, Piper.”
“I’m not finished.”
“Sorry.”
She leaned forward. His gaze dropped to her chest, to the soft, perfect beauty of her breasts. Dammit, how could she still do this to him? Make him ache with wanting her? Hadn’t he earned immunity? How many years did it take?
“You work with me during the day,” she said, “and by night, I’ll show you why Hush is going to succeed beyond even my wildest dreams.”
He forced himself to look up. “What?”
“Now who’s being coy?”
“Are you suggesting…?”
Her lips curved into a seductive smile. “You need to make an informed decision. In order to do that, you need to understand what Hush is all about.”
“Piper—”
“You were the one who made me think about it when you asked for a couples’ massage. And you were right. This hotel is for lovers,” she said, her voice a husky whisper.
She couldn’t possibly…
“We’re not lovers.”
“And yet, if you hum a few bars…”
“Piper.”
“Anything,” she said, making him forget to breathe. “Everything.”
He shifted in his chair. He was hard, as hard as he’d ever been, as he pictured the armoire in the penthouse, the toys, the handcuffs. He’d forbidden himself to seriously contemplate this…thing between them. Outside of his fantasies, at least. He could hardly admit to himself how often she came to him at night, when he was alone. Even when he wasn’t. But in the morning, he always knew that Piper was off-limits. She was the daughter of his boss. More than that, she was completely wrong for him. In every way. She was wild parties, she specialized in excess and debauchery. She was Piper Devon, the woman he’d been hired to tame.
“Look, Trace. I know you don’t find me unattractive. I mean, come on. The chemistry is there. We both know that,” she said, her voice so low he could barely hear her. “Don’t we?”
He swallowed. “I don’t think I can talk about this.”
“Tell me you don’t think about it. About us.”
“I don’t.”
“Look at my face instead of my breasts and say that.”
He knew he was blushing. He hadn’t done that in a while. But now that he thought about it, it occurred to him that the last time was because of Piper. She did have a way about her.
She leaned closer. “I’ve got one chance to catch the brass ring.”
“Thanks. I like being compared to a carousel horse.”
“You know what I mean.”
“This is crazy. There’s no way you’re going to change my mind. Certainly not that way.”
“I’m not asking you to betray your beliefs, Trace. But I deserve a fair evaluation, and you can’t do that from the sidelines. Let me teach you about Hush. If you still don’t believe in me, then fine. I’ll let it go, and never bother you again.”
He studied her. He knew everything about her face. The texture of her skin. The way her eyes became darker when she was angry. The tiny scar high on her right cheek. But he didn’t understand this. She barely tolerated him. They’d been at each other’s throats for years. And she had to know he couldn’t be bought. Not with money, and not with her body. “You really believe it, don’t you?”
She tilted her head slightly to the left.
“You think if we have sex, I’ll have a change of heart.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t say a thing about having sex. I said we’d be lovers.”
“And there’s a difference?”
“Trace, don’t.”
“It’s absurd. It can’t happen.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah.”
“All right then. Give me one night.”
“Pardon?”
“Tonight. I’m staying in the Pop Penthouse. Give me tonight, and we’ll renegotiate in the morning. What do you have to lose?”
He chuckled. Saw the waiter coming with their food, and schooled his expression into neutrality. He’d been hungry, eager to see the celebrity chef in action, and now he could barely spare a glance at his plate. He was too busy trying to figure out exactly what Piper was up to. This was as bizarre as anything he’d ever seen her do. But perhaps he’d underestimated her desperation.
She needed this hotel. More than her inheritance in fact. She needed what Hush represented. Her relationship with Nicholas was complex. She hated his methods but craved his approval. She flaunted her rebellion like a red flag, and reveled in his shock. He punished her with coldness. Yeah, she needed this. A successful Hush would be the ultimate screw-you to Daddy. The question was, did Trace want to dance in this twisted little tango?
Piper swiped her bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, and even though he knew exactly what she was doing, he still had to swallow hard and will his dick to settle the hell down.
“Will you?” she asked.
“Eat your salmon,” he said, not willing to entertain her proposition. A week in Piper’s bed. He’d have to be crazy. He picked up his fork and concentrated on the meal. At least he tried to. But he couldn’t stop himself from watching her. She pulled every small bite off her fork with deliberation, using her teeth, not her lips. Perfect lips he’d imagined around his cock.
He swallowed, the tuna melting down his throat.
She sipped her martini, then trailed her finger over the rim of her glass. “Tell you what,” she said. “I’ll leave here after dinner. By myself. But I’ll make sure you have a key to my room.”
He didn’t answer. He was too busy thinking of all the reasons this was a bad idea. And all the ways he’d like to take her.
“Did I mention that you can use anything you want from the armoire?”
Oh, shit. “You play dirty.”
“I do a lot of things dirty.”
“One night,” he said, knowing he was every kind of fool.
Her reaction fascinated him. Equal parts triumph and fear. She was smart to be afraid. It was a dangerous game she was playing and the stakes were incredibly high.
PIPER WENT to her office, knowing she needed to cool her jets before she went up to the penthouse. It was crazy, what she was doing. She had no illusions about that. But it was her only hope. She needed this hotel. And, frankly, she’d grown too accustomed to money to adjust to none, which was shallow and selfish and all kinds of bad things, but also the truth. She’d never really gone up against her father on anything important. She’d learned the business, gone to school, gotten excellent grades. True, she’d also become notorious for her wild lifestyle, but in the long run, she was still Daddy’s little girl. If she had more time, she would have had more options. As it was, her back was against the wall.
God, she missed her mom. She’d always been able to talk to her. Her mother had been the intermediary, and she’d had Nicholas wrapped around her little finger. But that had ended when Piper was just a girl. She was on her own.
Trace truly was her last hope. During her massage tonight, the idea had come, and with it, frankly, some pretty interesting bodil
y reactions. But there’d also been something else. A feeling, no, not down there, a feeling that somewhere deep inside, Trace believed in her.
Okay, buried very, very deep. But through all the teasing, all the torment, there had always been a little glimmer. Hadn’t there?
She went to her desk but she didn’t sit. Instead she rested her hands on the back of her leather chair and looked at the architectural drawings on the wall. Her hotel, her baby. Once just in her imagination, now a reality, all because she wouldn’t take no for an answer.
Trace wanted her. There was no doubt about that. All these years, and the two of them still couldn’t sit in the same room and not think about sex. And once she had him in her bed, then maybe, just maybe, she could reach beyond those inflexible walls of his.
Somewhere inside him was the man who’d talked to a teenager about his own law firm, about becoming a different kind of lawyer, of actually using his talent to help people. Her future depended on finding that man again.
She’d had Angela bring her some things from home. Things she hadn’t thought she’d need so close to the opening. They were already up in the penthouse. She’d brought the big guns: the red teddy, the black corset, her ridiculously high-heeled stilettos. If she was going to do this, she was going to do it right. No holds barred. She’d use every trick in her book, starting with the penthouse.
Tomorrow night, if he was still with her, she’d take him up to the roof, where they’d have exclusive use of the pool and spa. The night after, she’d arrange for that couples’ massage. And then there was Exhibit A, the sofa bar, were she would take Trace to the final run-through before it opened to the public. But each night, they’d end up back at the penthouse. And each night, she’d take out another weapon in her arsenal. By the end of the week, one of them would break. She just prayed it wouldn’t be her.
It was time to go. She had a lot to do to get ready. The elevator ride was the longest of her life.
The first thing she did in the penthouse was go to the bar and pour herself a cognac. With drink in hand, she went to the bedroom where she saw that Angela, as always, had come through with shining colors. Her lingerie was spread on the bed like a trousseau. She set aside the red teddy and the silk kimono, put away the rest. Then she ran herself a bath. Once the water was running, and the lavender oil was poured, she turned her attention to the stereo system. She would have preferred classical, but she chose something more seductive. Gato Barbieri. The Last Tango in Paris soundtrack. It was one of her favorites. She had no clue what kind of music Trace liked. Perhaps tonight she’d find out.
