Hush

by Jo Leigh

  Her father had been incensed. He blamed her entirely, not even giving her explanation a moment of credence. So she’d made up her mind, if they wanted a slut, she’d give them a slut.

  That had been years ago. She’d grown accustomed to it. And with Hush, she’d concluded that as long as that was the way it was, she might as well capitalize on the infamy.

  But was it how she wanted it to be forever? Did she want to be forty, and still be seen as the slutty, ditzy heiress? Was it even possible to change the way the world saw her?

  Her gaze went back to the photo, to her eyes. Who the hell was that woman? What was she trying to prove?

  She’d told him the truth the other night. She was famous for nothing. For winning the genetic lottery, perhaps. Nothing she’d done was noteworthy. She’d made appearances at charities, donated lots of money and even some time, but anyone could do that. The only thing that was hers and hers alone was Hush.

  If she changed the campaign, if she made the hotel less about sex, would it still be hers? Would it give her what she needed so badly?

  PIPER STEPPED into the lobby and was blindsided by popping flashbulbs. The press had swarmed the hotel, and they were shouting her name. And another name.

  “Logan, what about the rest of the tour?”

  “Are you here to try out the sex at Hush?”

  “Logan, over here!”

  Logan? What the hell? He was supposed to be on the road. They’d agreed. She’d told him it was over, and though he’d laughed, she’d thought he understood. So why was he here?

  “Hey, baby.”

  “Logan. What’s going on?”

  “You thought you could keep me away from the opening of a sex hotel?”

  “Why don’t we go to my office. We can talk. Privately.”

  She could smell the liquor on his breath. She doubted, given the glassiness of his eyes, that he was only high on booze. She needed to get him out of here, and away from her.

  “Let’s give them a little somethin’, eh, Piper?” He lurched toward her, his hand grabbing her shoulder.

  She jerked back, not wanting him, not wanting this. While he’d been annoying before, now he repulsed her. Everything about what they’d been made her ill.

  The flashbulbs blinded her, and the crush of bodies made her heart race. She had to get out of here, away from this insanity.

  Another hand, strong, sure, took her by the upper arm, and led her away toward the elevator. Like a leech, Logan held on to her, but she didn’t care as long as she could get away from the mob.

  She lost her footing once, but she didn’t fall. Because Trace held her up. It was Trace in front of her, holding on to her, helping her escape.

  She gazed up into his worried eyes, then back at the drunk and stoned Logan.

  Millions of women wanted Logan, dreamed of him, would have done anything to be in his bed. And he was nothing compared to Trace. Who made her crazy. Inflexible, demanding, rude. Incredible Trace.

  He got them into the elevator and blocked her from the cameras. Piper leaned against the stainless steel wall, gasping hard to refill her lungs. She smiled at Trace when he turned around.

  “Jesus, Piper.”

  He wasn’t worried. He was angry. Disgusted.

  “No, you don’t understand.” She shook off Logan’s hand. “It’s not what you think.”

  “Is it ever enough?” he said, his voice very low. Then his gaze moved down to her chest.

  She looked at her reflection in the door. Her blouse was open, her bra pushed down just enough to expose her right nipple.

  They’d gotten it again. The money shot.

  16

  TRACE GOT OFF on his own floor. Piper had buttoned up her blouse while Logan leered at her. What the hell had she seen in him? Logan was drunk, he smelled, his hair was filthy and his clothes a joke. Trace had always hated his band, hated his voice, hated him. And Piper had invited him to the opening? Nice of her to mention it.

  He slammed his suite door shut, too angry and disappointed to sit down. What was it with her? One step forward, two steps back. Couldn’t anything be easy?

  It was just past noon and they were supposed to meet at three with Kit to go over the ad campaign. As if it would do a damn bit of good. She seemed determined to make Hush the most notorious hotel in New York.

  He sat at the desk, opened his laptop, but it was no good. He needed to get out of here for a while. Go for a walk. See something other than this hotel.

  It took him almost fifteen minutes to get out. The press was camped out in the lobby. Lisa Scott and Janice Foster were doing everything they could to clear the place, but Trace doubted they had enough security on the premises.

  Well, with the big party only a day away, he supposed it was good publicity—if one subscribed to the belief that any publicity was good.

  He headed down Madison, not caring at all where he ended up, just so long as it wasn’t Hush. The air was warm, the crowds not too thick. After striding down a couple blocks, he’d finally cooled off.

  It just wasn’t working, that’s all he had to admit. A job gone wrong. Not everything was smooth sailing, and he and Piper…

  There was no “he and Piper.” He belonged to the job, and she was… She was a force of nature. So he saw more in her. So what? But if she didn’t see it herself, what was he supposed to do about it?

  Hell, who was he to judge? The woman had a life he could barely comprehend even though he’d been around her most of her life. But who could know what it was like to be followed everywhere? To have no privacy in public. To have her life documented in tabloids, to have each moment captured for better or worse.

  She had money and looks and what most people would think was the ideal life. But he knew better. He understood exactly what pressure her father put on her, how he’d hated that his first born was a girl. How hard it had been that she’d lost her mother so young.

  No one had it easy, including Piper. But she also had advantages, lots of them.

  He walked by a newsstand, and there she was, plastered on three different tabloids. None of the pictures were particularly flattering, but she was at least fully clothed. By tomorrow, that would be different. If only she’d worn a different bra. Everyone walking down this street would see her breast.

  He slowed his pace as it hit him that he didn’t want anyone seeing Piper undressed. Anyone else.

  He cursed Logan, evidently aloud, given the look he got from an older woman carrying her groceries.

  Logan, bloody Barrister. Sleaze personified. Trace didn’t get it, and he didn’t get why he cared so much. It couldn’t be just because of their chemistry in bed.

  Okay, so that probably had something to do with it. She was terrific, and he’d never…

  He walked again, all his hard-fought calm shot to hell. He’d never experienced anything like being with Piper. Of course, he’d never met anyone who frustrated him more, either, when they got together. Damn.

  He thought about the massage, how she’d been so incredibly responsive. It had been torture to wait, but all he wanted was to make her go crazy. He’d heard men say that they got turned on by turning their women on, and he’d nodded and smiled and known they were lying through their teeth. He owed them an apology.

  His pace slowed once again. She’d been willing to compromise. Not to fold, which honestly, he’d never expected, but she’d offered a branch of hope. They were going to talk about a new campaign. One where she wasn’t half-naked. So maybe she’d forgotten about Logan? Or maybe she figured she had to pull out every trick she could?

  Piper was scared. Of course she was. She wanted to have her own success, she wanted something that was hers alone, and he couldn’t blame her.

  Another newsstand, only this time, a young woman was reading one of the tabloids with Piper on the cover. He approached her, trying not to look like a mugger. “Excuse me.”

  She looked up. He guessed she was in her twenties, wearing the traditional New York black,
her hair stylish, her makeup just right. She gave him a quick once-over, then smiled. “Yes?”

  “I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’d like to ask you a question. What do you know about Piper Devon?”

  She shrugged. “Rich, pampered, great style. Likes to party.”

  “Have you heard about her hotel?”

  “Are you taking a survey?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of it. Can’t help it.”

  “And?”

  She closed the paper and put it down, staring at Piper for a moment. “I like it. I think it would be fun to stay there, if I could afford it.”

  “So you like the concept behind it?”

  She smiled at him, and this time her once-over wasn’t so quick. “What’s not to like? Sex and hotels go together. Only this one is taking it to the next level.”

  “Okay, thank you. I appreciate your honesty.”

  “You’re welcome.” She reached into her large black purse and pulled out a business card. “If you want to do some personal research at Hush, well…”

  He took the card. She was an editorial assistant for a publishing company. Elaine Waycroft. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.” He continued his walk, stuffing the little card into his jacket pocket.

  Elaine Waycroft fit the profile for the perfect Hush guest. She didn’t make the kind of money to treat herself to the hotel, but she probably dated men who did. Young, single, hip. Piper was right, they would come. There was money to be made and a new clientele to cater to. There would always be room for hotels like the Orpheus, and for the Devon chain, but the times were changing and someone had to be on the front lines.

  Of course, it would be Piper. Having to fight every step of the way. She’d done it, though. The tricky part was that on paper, it looked like a strictly business move, but he knew for a fact that her motivation wasn’t so pure.

  Daddy had made her toe the line every moment she’d lived under his roof. She wasn’t a kid anymore, and it was time for her rebellion to end. For her own good.

  Somewhere, there had to be a workable solution. If she made a few modifications Piper could have Hush and her inheritance. All he had to do was figure out exactly what would have to change. He no longer believed she should turn the hotel into a Devon. It needed to be Hush. But maybe not quite so Hush.

  Compromise, that was the word of the day. If they could talk. If that bastard Logan wasn’t there.

  And once the hotel issue was solved, once Trace was back on his own home turf, he’d look at the situation between the two of them. If there even was a situation.

  “I DIDN’T ASK you to come.”

  “Surprise.”

  Piper went over to the window and looked down at the street. There were people walking, cars and taxis, the whole city was alive with bustle and purpose. She’d love to take a walk. A long one. Stopping in stores that caught her eye, maybe a little shopping. Anonymously. Privately. Just another customer, another pedestrian. But she couldn’t do that.

  She turned to face Logan who was lounging on the chaise. Of course he’d found the liquor, as if he hadn’t had enough. “Logan, we’re done. We were done a long time ago. I didn’t invite you to the party because I don’t want you here.”

  His head lolled back. “Right. You don’t want me. That’s a laugh, girl.”

  “Oh, God. Have you been reading Tiger Beat again? There are hundreds of groupies waiting to hold your hair back while you vomit. Go find one of them.”

  “But darlin’, it’s you and me. We’re a match made in heaven. We look marvelous in all those pictures, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t care. I have other things that are more important than getting my picture taken.”

  He laughed. Really laughed. Then he coughed for a long time. When he could breathe again, he looked at her. “You don’t have a life that’s not in the tabloids, baby.”

  “That’s it. Out. Go. Where the hell’s Martin? He never lets you far off the leash.”

  “Bloody Martin is with Keith, working on the Madison Square Garden gig.”

  Piper got her purse, her cell. She found Logan’s manager’s number in her speed dial and called. “Martin, this is Piper. Can you please come get Logan? He’s wasted here at Hush, and I can’t have him here.”

  Martin hesitated. “What? Trouble in paradise?”

  “Logan, being the genius he is, doesn’t understand the words ‘It’s over.’ I’m hoping you can make him see the light. I don’t want him here now, or ever. Certainly not at the party. Can you take care of this?”

  “Wait a minute, Piper. Let’s think this through. The publicity for both of you would be great.”

  “I don’t care. I want him gone. If you don’t do it, I’ll be forced to call in the police. With his tox level, I’m thinking you don’t particularly want that.”

  Martin, long used to having to babysit for the boys in the band, sighed. “Give me two hours. I’ve got to finish up here.”

  “Two hours, Martin. That’s it.”

  “Yeah. See you, Piper.”

  She hung up the phone. Logan was still smiling at her, as if it was all a colossal joke. She no longer cared. “I have a meeting,” she said. “You, stay here. Drink yourself into a coma for all I care, but don’t leave the suite. Martin will be here soon to get you.”

  He looked at her, suddenly serious. “Piper.”

  “Yes?”

  “You have any almonds? I could really go for some roasted almonds.”

  She shook her head, got her purse and left. Hoping beyond hope that the press had vacated. She didn’t go to the lobby to find out, but straight to her office.

  She returned a bunch of phone calls, mostly from publicists of guests. When she could finally breathe again, she simply sat in her chair, staring at the wall. Would Trace show up at the meeting?

  Why? Why did he always think the worst? Why didn’t he ask? It wasn’t fair, and she should be a lot angrier than she was.

  If he would just see her. But, like everyone else, he was blinded by the lights of the paparazzi. Which she’d expected, so why in hell did it hurt so much? The look on his face had been so disappointed. Disgusted. As if she’d ripped her own blouse just for kicks.

  If they’d just had sex, she could understand, but it had been more. They’d talked. Worked through some stuff. But then what did she know? Her track record with men sucked the big one, so why should Trace be different?

  Because he was Trace. Because he’d known her forever. Because he should know better.

  Oh, well. She’d survive. She still had to get through the next two days. Make decisions about the ad campaign, about Hush. She just had to stop wishing for things that didn’t exist.

  Funny, up until two hours ago, she hadn’t even realized she’d been wishing at all. That somehow Trace had become…something to her. She wasn’t even sure what. All she knew for sure is that it wasn’t much. How could it be when she disgusted him? When he thought so very little of her?

  She picked up the phone, called Kit. Asked her where she was on the new ideas. When she hung up, she thought about all the things she had to do in the hour before the meeting.

  She made one more call, up to Trace’s suite. He wasn’t there.

  “HEY, JACE, it’s Lisa Scott. From Hush.” Lisa sat back in her leather chair, willing her heart to stop beating so hard. It was ridiculous to be this nervous. He was just a guy, and it would come to nothing, so what was her problem?

  “Hey, Lisa. I was just going over my notes.”

  “Did you get everything you needed?”

  “From Piper, yeah. But it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you’d sit down with me for an hour or so.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re her closest friend.”

  “True. Which means I don’t dish. Ever.”

  “Not interested in anything but the truth.”

  “Gee, you’re the first journalist who’s ever said that to me.”

  He
laughed. “I won’t bring my thumbscrews or any other torture devices, I promise.”

  “Bummer.”

  He didn’t comment, and she cursed her stupid sense of humor.

  “I think this is going to be a fun interview,” he said, finally. “So when can we meet?”

  “Tonight? Say, eight? I could get us in to Amuse Bouche. I have connections.”

  “Sounds great.”

  “Oh, and, uh, Jace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I didn’t see your name on the guest list for the party.”

  “I wasn’t invited.”

  “Would you like to go?”

  “I’m a party animal.”

  “Great.” She didn’t want to sound too excited so she took a breath before she spoke. “You’re in.”

  “You’re wonderful.”

  She blushed.

  “Do you think that Piper will be there tonight?”

  “I’m not sure,” she said softly, her excitement replaced with disappointment.

  “I heard Logan Barrister was back in town. That he was there at the hotel.”

  “No comment.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “That’s okay. Hey, I’ll see you tonight.”

  “You bet. Bye.” She hung up the phone. Would she never learn? She’d actually thought for a minute there, that they’d connected. A little, at least. It was silly, really. He was doing an article on Piper, what else would he want to talk about? Certainly not her. She wasn’t anyone. Not anyone at all.

  PIPER TURNED OFF the video camera. She wasn’t at all sure she’d done the right thing. She could still just take the tape and leave. Trace would never know the difference.

  She went into his bathroom, and sighed at her face. Waterproof mascara. Great for swimming, lousy with tears. She pulled a tissue out and tried to fix the damage.