by Renee Ryan
His smile widened, shoving open the door to her heart by a mere crack. With a hard blink, she slammed the tiny slit shut. Hopefully for good.
“You ready to come inside now?”
She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. Why this compulsion to catalog every line, every groove, every feature of his rugged, handsome face?
“Through with your inspection?”
Beast. “Almost.”
She forced her body to relax, her mind to clear, but nothing could stop her pulse from working itself into a frenzy. She had a sudden, shocking urge to reach out and cup his face, to stare into his eyes, to know this man on a deep, personal level.
Was it true then? Was she more like her mother than she realized, deep at her core? Was she flawed in her very character, like so many of the bad women of the Bible? Was she a Delilah, at heart? Or a Jezebel?
No, that couldn’t be true. She made mistakes, yes, and bad decisions at times, but she wasn’t wicked.
Mouth twisting at a sardonic angle, Dupree withdrew his watch from a pocket in his vest then made a grand show of releasing the clasp and looking at the time. “Ticktock, Miss O’Connor.”
His sarcasm hurled her into action. “Yes, yes. I’m ready now.”
“After you.”
Determined to maintain her dignity, she pirouetted quickly, driving her feet forward with sheer will alone. Once inside the hotel lobby, she nearly gained control over her foolish senses, but then Dupree closed in from behind.
“I’ll meet you in my office. You do remember the way?”
His whispered words hovered too close to her ear. The tiny shove on her lower back sent a chill navigating down her spine.
She really, really needed to get a handle on her emotions. “Yes, of course I remember.”
“Excellent.” With catlike grace, he shifted around her and trekked toward the restaurant. Strangely beholden to watch him stride through the lobby, Laney stood stationary, blinking after him, her heart keeping time with his fast moving feet.
He glanced at her over his shoulder, stopped. “Move along, Miss O’Connor. Dole reluctance doesn’t suit you.”
Making a face, she trudged toward the back of the hotel, all the while searching for an ally. Any would do. She passed her gaze over several people, then linked eyes with Hank.
Why not?
Determined to make her time at the Hotel Dupree as pleasant as possible, she waved a happy greeting.
After a brief hesitation and a slight shake of his head, Hank grinned at her in return. Warmed by his response, Laney allowed a brief smile to linger between them. At his encouraging nod, she continued forward with renewed confidence.
Inside Dupree’s office, she scanned the perimeter of the room, registering every nuance of the immaculate interior. All that she’d upset the night before had been put to rights. Even the books she’d used to prop up her sarcastic note were back on the shelves in their proper order.
Or so she assumed.
Out of some perverse need to know what sort of books Dupree enjoyed reading, she tugged a chair to the bookshelf and hopped on top. She scanned the closest titles, making murmurs as she went.
Oliver Twist, one of her favorites, a compilation of Shakespeare’s tragedies, not a favorite. She liked the comedies. Two Bibles, one written in English and one—she checked the spine—was that...Latin? She’d have to ask Katherine what Vulgate meant. Both books were well-worn, an indication they had been read often.
By Dupree? Or someone else?
Just as Laney began perusing the rest of the titles, Dupree’s commanding voice boomed through the room. “What are you doing on that chair?”
Startled, she twirled around on one foot, then fought to find a spot for the other.
Blocking the doorway with his impossibly broad shoulders, the man had the nerve to scold her as though she were a child. “Get down, now, before you fall down.”
“Oh, honestly, I’m in complete control.” She jammed her hands on her hips to prove her point. And promptly lost her balance.
Teetering from one foot to another, she waved her arms back and forth, praying the momentum would help her regain her balance.
It didn’t. She was going down hard.
Resigned, she thrust her hands out in front of her.
Dupree rushed forward, moving quickly enough to catch her around the waist. Thanks to his timely assistance, Laney’s face careened to a halt mere inches from smacking into the floor.
“You, Miss O’Connor, are a menace.”
Considering her current position, she couldn’t exactly argue the point.
Chapter Eight
Bent at the waist, her arms pinned in useless immobility, Laney remained perfectly still. One slip on Dupree’s part, one pucker on her part, and she’d be kissing the fashionable Oriental rug beneath her nose.
Not the best of scenarios.
“Seems we have an interesting situation here.” The grin in Dupree’s voice stole any chance of Laney finding the desire to thank him for his prompt rescue.
With more than just her pride inches from the floor, she couldn’t muster the poise to speak calmly. Or politely. “Help me up.” She gritted her teeth to avoid moving a muscle. “I mean it. This isn’t amusing anymore.”
As if it had ever been.
“You know,” he said, his tone full of easy camaraderie, as if they were enjoying a spot of tea, “after all we’ve been through, sort of seems appropriate to leave you...dangling.”
To her shame, tears formed. But Laney refused to let them fall. She did, however, squirm. Just a bit. Enough to have Dupree’s arms tighten around her waist.
“I find it necessary to advise you not to move like that. You just might find yourself with a face full of splinters.”
He was admonishing her? Again? As though he’d caught her with a toy that didn’t belong to her? “Dupree, I’m warning you...”
“Considering our current positions—you down there and me, well, up here—I wouldn’t be tossing out threats if I were you. Now,” he adjusted his hold, “since I have you where I can keep an eye on you, shall we discuss the weather, that lovely sunset outside, or your upcoming duties in my hotel?”
Although her muscles screamed from her clenching them too tightly, Laney said in her firm, mother-of-the-house voice, “Let me up. This. Instant.”
“Ask nicely.”
A beat passed. And then another. “Please.”
He responded with a full-out, booming laugh.
“You’ve made your point.” She tried to sound in control of the situation. Hard to do with her head growing lighter by the minute. Truly, the man was beyond rude. “I’m starting to get dizzy.”
“Good, maybe it’ll plop some sense into you.”
“Dupree...”
“Right, right. Help you up.” He twisted her in his arms, and then shifted her to an upright position. “There. How’s that?”
“Unacceptable.” Her toes barely touched the ground.
Grinning, he lowered her all the way down. “Better now?”
No. His hands still gripped her waist. He didn’t seem to realize how much his touch bothered her. Or maybe he did. The rat.
“Yes.” She forced out the word with extreme care. “I’m fine.”
She expected him to release her then. But several seconds fled by. Then several more. And still his hands remained on her waist.
Tick, tick, tick, went the clock on the mantel.
Click, click, click, went her heart against her ribs.
With each intake of air, breathing became harder. Words eluded her. Common sense vanished.
Laney needed to step back, away from this man and his intense stare. She needed to put some distance between them. But a hidden part of her, a secret place she kept locked deep inside her soul, urged her to move a step closer.
What was wrong with her?
What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t he stepping back?
As they continued staring at one
another, a silent message passed between them, something new, something unsettling. Something...almost...pleasant.
Her vision blurred and her throat clogged.
If only she could get her voice to work properly.
“Are you all right, Miss O’Connor?”
She managed a nod.
“Truly?” He cocked his head at a concerned angle. “Your face is draining of color.”
No doubt. Her head felt lighter now than when she’d been hanging upside down.
“Laney?”
She tensed at the use of her given name, instinctively holding back a sigh. Of contentment. Oh, Lord, please, no. Don’t let me start liking this man now.
Too late, came the disturbing thought, too, too late.
Until this moment, Laney hadn’t realized how safe she felt in Dupree’s presence, as though he were a barrier between her and certain disaster.
And not just from the fall. But from all harm. For the first time in her life she wanted to rely on someone other than herself, someone who would take care of her and Katherine and the children.
What would it be like to be cared for by a man, by this man? To admit she needed help. To...simply...let...go?
Laney’s mind reeled at the sense of longing that came with the question.
It is better to take refuge in the Lord than to trust people. Good, solid, Biblical advice. Yet the foolish longing in her heart remained.
Dupree’s fingers flexed on her waist, squeezed gently, and then...
Intent filled his gaze and his head inched toward hers.
Was he going to kiss her?
Did she want him to kiss her?
Her pulse drummed a rapid staccato in her ears. She really must step back. Yes. Yes. She needed to step back.
She leaned forward instead.
The look in Dupree’s eyes turned soft, affectionate, and his hold gentled. For several eternal seconds he stared into her eyes. He didn’t utter a word—not, one, single, word—but Laney knew why he hesitated, knew why he didn’t close the distance between them.
He was waiting for her permission to proceed.
This was her chance to push him away. But a pleasant, warm emotion spread through her, one she’d never experienced before. Trust.
This man, for all his faults, would never hurt her. Laney knew it as surely as she knew the dollar amount she still owed Prescott.
Was it any wonder she was the one to take the final step toward him?
Smiling softly, Dupree wrapped his arms around her, his hold firm yet protective. Laney had never felt precious in her life.
Yet, now, inside this man’s embrace, she felt special, cherished even. She closed her eyes.
The smell of clean male mingled with tangy citrus filled her senses, settled in her heart, creating a memory that would last her a lifetime.
At twenty-five, she was about to experience her very first kiss. With Marc Dupree.
In spite of the explosive nature of their relationship, one word slipped out of her mouth. “Yes.”
“At last, we agree on something.” He ducked his head toward hers.
As though sensing the gravity of the moment, his lips stilled a hairbreadth away from hers, touching and yet not quite touching.
Her heart stuttered to a halt, then began beating again, picking up speed with each quick, painful breath she took.
Why wasn’t he pressing his lips fully to hers? “Marc?”
“Say my name again, Laney, without the question in your voice.”
“Marc,” she whispered.
“Very nice.”
Finally, he sealed his mouth to hers, in such a gentle, careful manner that Laney found every preconceived notion she’d ever had about men vanishing. All her life she’d considered men the enemy. She’d seen firsthand what they wanted from women. Nothing good or kind, but shameful acts that had to be paid for in advance, then hidden inside shadows and locked behind closed doors.
She’d never suspected tenderness could exist between a man and a woman, never thought a kiss could be sweet and affectionate.
Her mind slowly let go of all thought. Then awakened so quickly physical pain hammered behind her eyes.
This was Marc Dupree kissing her. He didn’t respect her. Or trust her. Or even like her. Was this some kind of ploy, a test to see how far she would go to earn money from him tonight?
Panicked at the thought, she pushed against his chest.
“Please, Marc.” She twisted to the right. And then to the left. “Please. Let me go.”
* * *
Palms up, blood rushing in his veins and pounding in his ears, Marc took a large step away from Laney. He’d never seen a woman react like that to a simple kiss, especially not a woman with Miss O’Connor’s vast array of life experiences and given...talents.
“Laney?” He used her given name on purpose. Despite her confounding reaction to their kiss, they’d gone far beyond the need for formality.
Doe-size eyes connected with his and Marc found himself fighting off a wave of guilt. Taking in her erratic breathing, large pupils and pale cheeks, he realized Laney was in a state of panic. No, not panic. Terror. She was terrified. Of him. Of what they’d just done.
Marc shook his head in bewilderment.
The gesture seemed to jolt her into action. Her hand flew to her throat and her eyes widened even more. “Why...why did you kiss me?”
Good question, one he wasn’t sure how to answer. But at the sound of her very real distress, and the genuine fear in her eyes—fear!—he decided to respond as truthfully as possible.
“Because I wanted to. And you wanted to kiss me in return. Regardless of this innocent routine of yours.” And, yes, her behavior had to be a calculated response.
If not...
He’d made a terrible mistake. And had kissed a woman who deserved better treatment than him pawing at her in his office.
Lifting shaky fingers to her lips, she blinked up at him. The look of shocked innocence appeared real.
Oh, she was good. Marc almost believed she was as stunned as she looked. Almost, but not quite. He couldn’t ignore the bits and pieces he’d already learned about her.
“Look, Laney, we both know you are no untouched maiden. So let’s forgo the rest of this ridiculous act of yours.”
“Act?” She fell back a step, looking as though he’d slapped her.
Marc had to admit, her performance was certainly first-rate, one of the best he’d ever seen.
Was he judging her unfairly?
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
“You, Marc Dupree, are ill-bred, rude and...and...” She tossed a loose strand of hair out of her face with a violent shake of her head. “Pigheaded.”
“Pigheaded?” He released a laugh lacking all humor. “Is that the worst you got for me, sweetheart?”
“Who gave you the right to judge me? You don’t even know me.”
“Oh, I know you.” Or did he?
Miss O’Connor is not your wife. Trey’s words came back to him, making Marc wonder if his judgment was indeed colored by his past. Had his experience with Pearl turned him into a cynic? A man who expected women to lie and cheat because his wife had done so over and over again?
Did that make him jaded, as Trey had claimed?
No. It made him cautious, a wise man who relied on his own power of reasoning. Every instinct told him that Laney O’Connor was hiding something from him, something monumental. And if Pearl had taught him anything it had been that nothing good came from secrets.
So why, then, wasn’t he demanding answers from Laney? Why was he experiencing this gut-wrenching guilt?
They stared at one another for five full seconds, or perhaps five eternities, Marc wasn’t sure which. He raked a hand through his hair, his puzzlement growing by the minute.
Who was Laney O’Connor? Her kiss called to mind innocence. Yet, in a single day, she’d broken into a locked safe, scaled a wall, climbed out a window and conducted business with the shifties
t banker in Colorado.
Was the woman a wolf in sheep’s clothing or a sheep in wolf’s clothing? Marc couldn’t be sure. And until he was certain, he would treat her with the same suspicion and distrust as before.
“Much as I’m enjoying this fascinating stare down,” he began. “We can’t stand here all evening glaring at each other.”
“No? Then what do you suggest we do?” Her eyes flashed amber fire, alerting Marc that her former spunk was well on the way to returning.
Just to be sure...
He leaned forward. She scooted back a step, hiding the move behind a quick toss of her chin. The gesture came a second too late. Marc had caught the fear underlying her actions. Fear of him.
Unable to explain why that troubled him so much, he scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Laney. I was out of line. I apologize for kissing you.”
She took another step back.
“I won’t try to kiss you again. I promise.”
The relief that filled her eyes belied the tart words that came out of her mouth. “I plan to hold you to that.”
“From you, I’d expect nothing less. Now.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should go over your job duties.”
“That sounds like a good idea.”
He picked up the dress he’d tossed to the floor when he’d seen her teetering on the verge of disaster. Grimacing, he shook out the layers of silk until the majority of wrinkles disappeared. “You will wear this while on duty at the front desk.”
“You want me to wear...that?”
“Yes.”
“But it’s so...so...” She trailed off, apparently lost for words.
“Respectable?” he offered.
“Black.”
“That’s right. The color and design are simple but elegant, just like my hotel. All my female employees wear identical dresses to this one.” He lifted the garment to make his point. “And while we’re on the subject, let me reiterate one final time. I run a respectable hotel, Laney, my guests rely on me to provide a comfortable, memorable stay that surpasses their wildest expectations.”
“So you’ve said. More than once. Ten times at least.”
“Save your sarcasm. I’m not in the mood to engage in another verbal battle.”
