His loss. Besides, for all his squawking, had he made a counteroffer? Not that Sunshine had heard.
Well, Sunshine’s assignment was to make sure the bride and groom had no problems in the bedroom. Technically, it was to make sure they were happy and it was generally found that happiness in the bedroom meant happiness all around. However, bedroom or not, Sunshine was thinking she could be happy with a hundred thousand dollars a year.
DYLAN SAT ALONE in the conference and studied the magnificent view of the Rockies, which he appreciated not at all. What was the matter with him? Alexis had gone to her meeting and now Dylan waited for Vincent and Margaret to return. They all seemed very casual about this whole prenuptial agreement, which left him feeling unsettled. Squeamish. He rubbed at a tight spot just to the side of his neck and miraculously, it eased. Honestly, for all intents and purposes, this was a business merger and if the bride had been anyone else, Dylan would have applauded the match.
But the bride was Alexis.
ALEXIS LAY PRONE ON THE BED of a very quaintly decorated Victorian-style room, the charms of which were currently lost on her.
Alexis’s eyes were closed and she’d taken aspirin to get rid of a throbbing tension headache caused by attempting to appear competent, in control and extremely hot while having her ex negotiate her future. She’d like to see anyone try that and not get a headache.
So? Did Vincent know she’d once dated Dylan or not? She couldn’t tell.
She was long over Dylan. Yes, he was still attractive. No, she was not going to admit that the instant she’d walked into the conference room she’d remembered how his mouth had felt on hers. She wasn’t proud of that. This guy had dumped her. Didn’t she have more self-respect than to picture him naked the first time she saw him in seven years?
Dylan hadn’t been the first to break her heart and he hadn’t been the last, but was there any woman alive who wouldn’t want to make a man who’d once dumped her kick himself when he saw her again?
Instead, she felt kicked. Just listening to him read the generous monetary settlement, with each year of marriage assigned a value in a way she tried not to find humiliating, was a strain. And she didn’t want to justify why she’d agreed to the work terms. She understood why they were there—Vincent planned to have children after all this time and wanted to guarantee that his wife was around to raise them. And he was acknowledging the career sacrifice she’d be making by providing her with financial independence. He’d never wonder whether she was there because she wanted to be, or because she felt stuck.
Why couldn’t everyone understand this?
And it wasn’t as if she was completely abandoning her career in law. She was just off the payroll. Alexis had assisted Vincent for a long time and she expected she’d continue outside the office.
She wasn’t going to think about it anymore. She was going to think about her wedding. Her lilac-and-white wedding. Lilac. The more she said it, the more it grew on her. Thank heaven it wasn’t pink. She was not a pink person, but lilac, possibly with royal-purple accents—she could work with lilac.
And her family was coming in. She and Vincent, though mostly Vincent, were paying their expenses. She would see her parents, her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and—mental drumroll—her sister and brother-in-law, along with three-year-old Madison, whom Alexis would get to see before her fourth birthday.
How wonderful that they were all able to stay a few days. How wonderful that they’d rearranged their schedules for her when she’d been putting them off for years and years…
Had she dozed off? Alexis sat up and quickly squinted at her watch at the same time she became aware of a presence in the room. A presence who was a blonde with old-fashioned sausage curls, red lips, a beauty mark and a great costume. Clearly, one of the hotel maids, probably trying to sneak in a fresh-towel delivery.
“Hi,” the girl said. “I’m Sunshine. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“No problem. I shouldn’t be sleeping now anyway.”
“Oh, good. I’ve been wanting to meet you. I’m—” here Sunshine clasped both hands over her swelling bodice “—such a fan.”
A fan? “I think you’re confusing me with someone else.”
“Oh, no. You’re Alexis O’Hara and you’re getting married Sunday afternoon, right?”
“Yes.”
“I just admire you for the way you’ve taken charge of your life. Women make stupid mistakes because they don’t think and they don’t play to their strengths.”
Well, yes, but what was she talking about?
“Don’t depend on what a man tells you to get you in the sack. Make ’em pay up front. And you are.”
Alexis gave her an icy look. “Are you referring to my prenuptial contract?”
Smiling widely, Sunshine nodded, her curls bouncing over her bare shoulders.
Alexis’s jaw dropped. “Were you listening at the door?”
“Certainly not!”
Well, somebody had heard something and Alexis wasn’t going to lower herself by questioning the hotel help. She would, however, inform the others. Vincent had a bad habit of talking loudly on his cell phone no matter where he was.
“Could I ask you a question?”
Alexis nodded.
Beaming, Sunshine bounced on the edge of the bed.
Alexis was taken aback. The maids were very friendly here.
Sunshine leaned forward, revealing an alarming expanse of pushed-up bosom. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Get him to keep paying!” Sunshine giggled. “Just getting him to marry you is what we all hope happens one day before we lose our looks, but how did you get him to agree to keep paying you afterward? Everybody knows it’s supposed to be free then.”
Alexis opened and shut her mouth. Twice. She should be offended, but this young girl was so good-natured and so eager and, well, the fan thing was flattering.
“I’m making a lot of money now and won’t be working after I’m married.”
“Exclusivity, yeah, I can see that. But marriage is usually enough.”
“That is where women go wrong.” Alexis warmed to her theme. “It should be enough. But what happens when you get a little older, you have a couple of kids and things begin to sag and hubby turns you in for a younger model? There you are with your best earning years behind you, and what have you got?”
The awestruck look on Sunshine’s face was exactly the balm Alexis’s frayed nerves needed. Her headache receded. Her self-confidence blossomed.
“And it’s good for him, too,” Alexis continued. “Think about it. He knows darn good and well you can afford to walk out of the marriage if you don’t like it, yet you choose to stay. Frankly, it’s got to be a huge ego boost.”
Were those tears in Sunshine’s eyes? “You’re such an inspiration,” she whispered.
Somebody finally got it. The last of Alexis’s headache eased.
“You’ve got to meet Miss Arlotta.”
Miss Ar—oh! That must be the wedding coordinator. Alexis was late. “I know.” But how did Sunshine know?
“She’s in the attic. I’ll take you there.”
The attic? There had been talk of choosing between two trellises. Maybe that’s where they were stored. Alexis stood and stepped into her shoes. “Thanks.”
“This is such an honor,” Sunshine said.
She was piling it on pretty thick, Alexis thought, then wondered if maybe meeting Miss Arlotta was the honor. She might be very exclusive. Quite honestly, sometime last week, Alexis had stopped asking the price of things.
As they walked down the hallway, Alexis looked to the smiling girl bouncing along next to her. “Great costume.”
“I know.” Sunshine raised a diaphanous panel of the long wrapper she wore. “I was going for innocent naughtiness. The old guys love it.”
The maid sure was blunt. “Good tips, huh?”
She shrugged a milky-white shoulder. “I did okay. Bett
er than some, not as good as others.” She poked Alexis with her elbow. “They love it when they see something they think they’re not supposed to be seeing. You might remember that.”
“Uh, okay. I think it’s a very clever marketing strategy for the hotel to play on its infamous past. I was looking at all the memorabilia in the little parlor downstairs.”
“It was the high rollers’ parlor. For the best customers and, of course, the best girls. Now, me, I figured it was the old guys and the widowers who had the money to spend and I got them to askin’ for me special. Smart, huh?”
Listen to her. She was so into her part. Alexis was charmed. “Very.”
“’Cause once I got to the high rollers’ parlor, other high rollers could see me and some of them would ask for me, too.” She looked momentarily wistful. “Some of them were mighty fine o’ face. Like your beau.”
Alexis knew she was referring to Dylan. Were there cameras in that private dining room? “How did you know?”
Sunshine stepped aside and indicated a door near the fire exit. “Attic stairs.”
Alexis didn’t open the door. “Sunshine, how did you know about Dylan?” If their privacy had been invaded, she wanted to know about it.
“I saw your face.”
Her face? She’d always thought she was good about masking her emotions. And, hey, there weren’t any emotions to mask here, at least not the nostalgic kind. “Was it obvious?”
“Only to me, honey.”
A stranger could figure out that there had once been something between Dylan and Alexis? That was not good.
“Let’s go,” Sunshine urged.
Maybe she should bring it up with Vincent. That would probably be best, Alexis thought as she opened the door and started up the stairs. A casual mention that they’d dated in law school—but then he’d wonder why she hadn’t brought it up before. As she’d explained to her mother, the problem here was that there was no problem and as soon as you tried to explain that there wasn’t a problem, people immediately thought that there was a problem, only you were trying to hide the size of it.
Alexis was so lost in thought that she’d climbed halfway up an extremely dark and dusty staircase before the rickety handrail had her thinking that this couldn’t be meant for guests. Talk about a lawsuit waiting to happen. She turned around to mention it to Sunshine. It was so dark, Sunshine nearly disappeared in the gloom. In a trick of what light there was, Alexis thought she could see the stairs right through her. She blinked.
“Just a little farther,” Sunshine said.
“You should tell the manager to install more light here. I’m surprised the building inspectors have let this go.”
“I don’t think the building inspectors see this staircase.”
“That’s not really the point.” Alexis came to the door at the top of the stairs. She reached for the old-fashioned door handle. “Is that original to the building?”
“As far as I know. I’ll get the door.”
Alexis never saw her touch it, yet the door creaked open. “That sounds like original hardware, too. I can’t believe the owner isn’t maintaining it.”
And then Alexis forgot about hotel-maintenance problems because the sight of the attic room rendered her mute.
It was as though the picture of the former brothel’s soiled doves, which hung in Sunshine’s high rollers’ parlor, had come to life. A group of young women, dressed in Victorian dishabille, lounged around boxes, trunks, old sheet-covered furniture and generations of castoffs.
“I—I thought this was a private meeting…”
“Hey, girls! Here she is! This is Alexis O’Hara.”
A tiny dark-haired woman raised her arms in a swirl of vintage Chinese silk. “Brava!” She began to clap in the rhythmic European way. “Brava!”
The others began clapping, too. A redhead in cowboy boots and a bustier stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. “Yee haw!”
“You do us proud, cherie!”
“What’s going on?” Alexis wondered aloud. Was this like celebrating a birthday at a restaurant and having all the waiters sing? Brides at the Inn at Maiden Falls get a send-off party from costumed maids?
“Yes, yes. She has done well for herself.” A throaty voice boomed from behind a desk that Alexis swore hadn’t been there moments before.
A woman with green-tinged skin, black eyebrows and yellow pin-curled hair sat behind the desk. She was only green-tinged because of the light from the green Tiffany-style torch lamp.
The girls quieted.
“I am Miss Arlotta,” she announced. “You may approach.”
Okay, so she was like a really exclusive wedding coordinator. Alexis decided to play along with whatever skit they were acting out and walked over to the desk. Up close, Miss Arlotta looked straight out of the Madams ’R’ Us catalog.
Sunshine appeared at her side. “Miss Arlotta, Alexis has been offered a contract for marriage that pays her one—hundred—thousand—dollars a year.”
More clapping erupted.
“In gold?” Miss Arlotta asked. She looked at Alexis. “Always make sure it’s in gold.”
Gold. Alexis just stopped herself from laughing. “That’s good advice,” she said, playing her role…of what, she didn’t exactly know.
“And that’s not all!” Sunshine clapped her hands together and gave a little jump. “She also gets the money she would have made if she’d been working.”
Madam Arlotta sat back. “Well, now that is impressive.”
“Maybe not so impressive.” Alexis was being eyed by a sour-faced woman who plucked at the ties around her corseted waist. “Depends on how much she made.”
“I’m very good at what I do,” Alexis said.
The woman sniffed. “Hidden talents. Tricks. They always pay more for pervers—”
“Flo.” The woman immediately went silent. “Alexis is our guest.” Miss Arlotta stood and Alexis could see she was small for a woman with such a big voice. “We want you to know that though years and circumstances separate us, we celebrate what one of our own has accomplished for working women everywhere.”
“I—thank you.” This was just too weird.
“My Got. She vas showered viz more riches zan a royal courtesan.”
“I thought you were a royal courtesan, Countess,” Sunshine said.
“Zat is how I know zis.” The woman shrugged the silk robe over her shoulders. “I consider you my equal.”
Her equal? “And you were a courtesan?”
The Countess inclined her head. “Zat is so.”
“Like…a mistress.”
“Yes.”
The skit wasn’t as fun as it had been. “I’m not going to be a mistress. I’m getting married.”
“And, honey, how you pulled that off without letting him sample the goods is what I want to know.” This was from Miss Cowboy Boots.
“Glory, we always made them pay up front,” Sunshine said.
“Wait a minute…wait just a little minute. This isn’t amusing anymore.”
They all looked blankly at Alexis. Not one broke character.
“You’re—” she waved at them “—hookers. And you’re implying that I’m a hooker, too.”
“Honey,” boomed Miss Arlotta. “You’ve established that you can be bought. You’re just haggling over the price.”
“I am not a—”
“Lady of pleasure?”
“Bawdy basket?”
“Nightbird?”
“Raspberry tart?”
“Flesh peddler?”
“Sportswoman?”
“Jade?”
“Harlot?”
“Pavement princess?”
“Pavement princess?” the others echoed and looked toward a girl wearing wire-rim glasses and a wrapper embroidered with rosebuds.
“I read and keep up with the times,” she explained.
“Stop it everybody,” Sunshine said, while Alexis still reeled from the barrage of insults. “You
know she’s way above us. She’s like…a queen!”
“Did Dylan put you up to this?” Alexis could barely speak.
“Dylan’s a former caller. He’s carrying a torch for her,” Sunshine told the group.
“He is not!” Alexis was momentarily distracted.
“He is, too. And he’s downstairs right now, working his little heart out on your marriage papers.”
“That’s right. Marriage papers.” Alexis drew herself up. “This is only an agreement so that there are no misunderstandings about what either of us expects.”
“Hoo, boy! You expect a lot.”
As they laughed, Alexis’s head pounded again. “I’m going back downstairs. I have a wedding to plan.”
“That’s right. You don’t want to lose him now, honey!”
More laughter followed her. She couldn’t believe the hotel would allow a guest—especially one from whom they stood to make a great deal of money—to be so insulted. Maybe some brides wanted the full brothel theme for their wedding, but Alexis wasn’t one of them.
And she’d find out who was behind this skit. She would. But right now, her head hurt and she was going to lie down, take more aspirin, and Miss Arlotta, or whatever her real name was, could just wait for her.
3
ALEXIS STOPPED BY HER ROOM to grab her coat and down that second extra-strength aspirin. Filling her glass from the bathroom faucet, she winced at the light, closing her eyes as she swallowed. Her headache was back in full force. Giving in for a moment, she sat on the bed. If this second aspirin didn’t help, she was going to have to postpone the meeting. She couldn’t make decisions right now. She could barely think.
Alexis dropped back onto the pillows and stared at the crown molding around the edge of the ceiling. She could feel her pulse pounding. Her eyes closed and then the phone, an old-fashioned, elaborately gilded rotary-dial affair rang, pounded, stabbed, her eardrums.
“Yes?”
“Ms. O’Hara, this is Tracy Wilman? From guest services? I have us down for a four o’clock consultation? It’s four-thirty?”
“Is it?” People who only spoke in questions irritated her. Many things irritated her right now. “I’m not too happy with guest services.”
Can't Buy Me Love Page 4
