Shana Jackson’s talent was exactly what the hotel needed. Shana Jackson in his bed for a weekend fling was exactly what he needed. Justin would get both because he believed in goal setting and achieving one’s goals.
Shana stared at the contract. Then she looked at Justin. The thought struck her that she was at a defining moment in her life. From this moment, all the rest of her life would emanate. Through Justin and the Lux Hotels she could realize her career dreams. It was her decision to do as Justin suggested and put the past behind them.
Looking at Justin her mind flashed with the same tender feeling she’d had about the hotel as she’d walked in today. There was something mystical about this hotel that called to her like a siren. She wanted this job. She wanted to be here. She wanted to see her visions for the hotel born into reality. Whether it was pride or sense of purpose or both, she didn’t know. But Justin was right. She was a committed type of person.
“So what do you say, Shana?” Justin said with sincere smile.
She was quick to answer. “Yes.”
Justin hadn’t intended to expel a sigh of relief, but he did. He hadn’t realized his tension was as severe as it was. For a man who rolled the dice on Wall Street as much and as often as he did, his attitude had always been cavalier about money and success. He’d always thought such things were his birthright. But the hotels were different. This was to be his legacy. This was the empire his forefathers had built and he was damned if he would let the thing go down the tubes. “Well done,” he said. “Shall we go over this list you sent to me on Wednesday?” he asked holding out a file.
Shana nodded her head in a clipped, business-like fashion. They had put the past behind them.
“I think we should start with the recommendations I’ve made for the suites themselves,” Shana said flatly. “I’d like the bedding to be executed in sateen sheets in golds and creams. All the beds should have Hungarian goose down comforters rather than bedspreads. Goose down pillows should be standard with non-allergenic pillows stored in the closets as an option. Baths in aqua blue paint, white marble floors and old-style medicine cabinets with sconce lighting rather than hanging mirrors.”
Justin watched her as she continued her litany of preferred design changes. He knew the marble floors would up the budget, but as she spoke and described the layouts, he knew her vision was dead on. All he could do was marvel.
They finished their meeting and Justin stood and held out his hand to her.
“Your concepts are good, Shana. We’ll talk later.”
She took his hand.
It was meant to be a business handshake. People did it every day in countries all over the world. It was a goodwill gesture. It was not meant to elicit shock waves of sensual pleasure, but Shana felt every tingle as if she’d stuck her finger in a light socket.
Had she actually jumped?
Shana retracted her hand and lifted her chin with an ever-so-slight air of haughtiness that she used to cover her embarrassment.
“I’ll be in my office,” she managed to say over the fuzz she felt clogging her brain. She looked at Justin and for an instant, he looked dazed.
She blinked.
He blinked.
Shana realized that Justin had seen her jump. He must absolutely know that she was affected by his touch.
Then he smiled.
Oh, God. I’m doomed. He knows I’m thinking about the kiss again.
Shana turned on her fashionable high-heeled shoes and walked across the Persian rug that had been loomed especially for the outsized room. No matter how quickly she walked, the office door kept moving away from her like one of those scenes in a horror movie. At last, her hand reached the doorknob and she turned it. This time when she turned around to look at him, she didn’t have any sassy defiant words to throw at him and no towel to drop.
On the mental tally sheet she kept, Justin had won this round. Shana made a vow that it would be the last win in his column.
CHAPTER FOUR
Justin was all too familiar with the glittering glass and steel offices of Leon Turnbull, the sharp shooter of all Manhattan contractual attorneys. The day after his father’s death, he’d consulted Leon about the feasibility of breaking Peter Yates’ contract with Felicity Cummings, then Director of Operations for the Lux Hotel Chain.
The flash of Felicity’s exquisite face and flawless body across his mind created an acrid taste in his mouth like he’d just tasted poison.
Felicity had come onto Justin like a bullet train. From the minute they were introduced in Peter’s office, no less, she’d let Justin know she wanted him. He’d reciprocated. It took less than two months for Felicity’s devious intentions to show and she waved them like a battle flag. She told Justin she was pregnant and produced a doctor’s report to prove it. For a brief week, Justin had been taken in by it all. During his momentary flash of insanity, he’d actually thought the idea of child of his own was something he wanted. The problem was that the child was part Felicity. He realized as he listened to her talk that her requests were cleverly disguised “demands” and nearly all her “dreams of their future” were underscored by his ability to pay through the nose for her upkeep and that of her child. Justin was immediately suspicious. Justin got a court order to demand another pregnancy test. Felicity failed. When he confronted her with the truth, she continued to lie.
In a rage, Justin escorted her out of his office and told her that she was never to speak to him again. He told her that he would inform his father of Felicity’s deviousness and he did. Peter, however, didn’t seem surprised. Peter told Justin that he liked Felicity and that he had hoped Justin would settle down with Felicity and stop his playboy ways. He’d even suggested Justin marry Felicity even though she’d tried to trap him. Outraged at his father, Justin threw up his hands. “You deal with her. I’m done!”
Peter promised to do just that. Incredulously, Peter kept Felicity on the staff, though he’d told Justin he’d cut her pay and her responsibilities. She was efficient and at the time Peter didn’t have time to hire and train someone new. Felicity stayed and Justin avoided the Lux Hotel offices even more.
Fortunately, Leon had found the loophole Justin needed to remove Felicity from the staff and Shana Jackson had now taken over the position. Thinking of sexy Shana, Justin was grateful to Leon in more ways than one
“You want this straight out, or do you need morphine?” Leon joked as sat in his black leather ultra modern desk chair and handed Justin a written report.
Justin swallowed but didn’t flinch. He’d hoped Leon could save him. He guessed he was out of saviors for the moment. “Hit me.”
“It’s ironclad. Your father’s Will is one of the best I’ve seen. Geezus. It’s so good, I hired Bernstein and Goldman to do my Will,” he laughed.
Justin looked into Leon’s honey colored eyes and tanned face. He wondered when Leon had time to vacation. Leon was such a stickler for details and so anal about his work that Justin imagined him going to bed with his laptop still running every night. Maybe he’d gotten one of those spray-on tans. “Dad always bought the best when it came to things like this.”
“He may have made some mistakes in the hotels and he admitted to many of them, but he apparently believed you were making a mess of your life,” Leon said tugging on his monogrammed French shirt cuff.
“He believed I was a screw up and the only thing that could save me was being married. Didn’t matter to whom or if I was in love, just be married.”
Leon nodded. “Old school. I know the type. Have some for parents myself. If it makes you feel any better, this kind of proviso is not going to go away in the future. Do you have any idea the amount of American dollars that are tied up in trust funds? Billions. All those baby boomer parents who founded companies and worked their lives for their goals are not going to allow their children or grandchildren to lose the kitty by marrying the wrong person or spending a dime of it frivolously. You wouldn’t believe the legal stipulations put on the
se trust funds today. You have a lot of company in this kind of Will, my friend.”
“Somehow, Leon, that doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Romantic marriage is a thing of the past, Justin.”
“Cripes, it’s like we took a step back a hundred years,” Justin groaned as he swiped his face with his hand.
Justin looked past Leon’s beveled glass topped and polished chrome German made desk to the expansive window behind him and to the bustling scene of New York City twenty stories below. Only two months ago Justin had felt he’d had the world by the tail. He was wealthy, he had or could have any woman he wanted by simply hitting speed dial on his cell. He was respected by his clients and investors. His friends always made time for a game of handball or invited him to go sailing on their yachts they harbored in Nantucket, Fire Island or off the Florida coast when the winter turned cruel. His life had been perfect. Then his father had the gall to die and leave him with this blasted, idiotic Will.
Justin’s eyes shot back to Leon. All he had to do was reject the Will. He could walk away from the Lux Hotels just as easily as he had strolled into them a month ago. He could wash his hands of the whole damn thing.
He didn’t need this kind of aggravation in life. In a few years, this kind of stress could kill him, for gods’ sake.
Yes. That was what needed to be done. Be done with the Hotel. Shana. The whole thing.
Shana. She would go away, of course. Probably to some exotic foreign country and work her witchcraft on both the next ailing hotel and some devastatingly handsome aristocrat who would fall victim to her kisses just as Justin had.
His mind skidded to a halt. Had he fallen victim to her kiss? Wasn’t it the other way around? All he had intended to do was get her into bed, have sex, find it strangely disappointing somehow like he always did, though he could never define exactly why that always happened and then he would move on to the next woman in line. That was his life. That was how he’d made it work all these years.
Shana.
Hearing her name echo in his head stabbed his core like an erotic javelin. His breath hitched. Like a match being struck to the fuse on a keg of dynamite, he looked back at Leon and said, “I have to get married.”
“Only if you want to keep the hotel chain.”
That was the rub of it. Justin wanted the hotels more than he wanted anything in his life. They were his goal. They were his Mecca. He would do anything to keep them for himself. The Will said he had to get married. It didn’t say he had to stay married. He could do this for a year, which should be long enough to make certain the stipulations of the Will were met.
He looked at Leon. “I do.”
Leon smiled. “Those are the words to remember, but say them to a woman.”
Justin frowned.
Leon leaned forward in his chair, gazing intensely at Justin. “You do have a woman you can use. Yes?”
“I…I’m not sure.”
“Oh. That’s not so good.”
Shana stifled an urge to applaud as she watched the crew of burly workmen remove the tacky and very boring gray and gold patterned carpet that had covered the one hundred year old white and gold veined Italian marble floor of the hotel mezzanine. “Who would ever cover this magnificent floor? Design Nazis?”
Shana’s Blackberry vibrated and rang softly alerting her to a text message. “Justin.” She smiled happily to herself not realizing her own reaction. She read the message.
“I want to discuss a series of cost reductions for the renovations. Meet me at L’Absinthe on 83rd at one for lunch. J.”
Shana sent a quick reply affirming the lunch. For a long moment she held the Blackberry in her hand and realized she was feeling disappointment. But why? Justin was her boss. He had requested a business lunch. She had wanted their relationship to be strictly business. She got what she wanted. Didn’t she?
She gazed over the expansive changes that were occurring due to her vision co-mingled with Justin’s mandate. Everything was in upheaval. The old smoky mirror tiles had been removed from the staircase walls. All the old wallpapers had been removed and the walls were now being plastered and scored and would be painted by skilled faux painters. Gone were the faded print fabrics on the lobby furniture and the scared and chipped wood tables and occasional chairs had been sold to second hand shops.
Shana loved her work. She only had to look at a room, a lobby, and a guest quarter to see its real potential. It was as if this old hotel and all the people who had lived in it and come to it in the past were cheering her on. When the New York Lux Hotel had been built prior to World War I, it had rivaled the best hotels in the country and even some in Europe. But the owners had allowed her to grow old.
And no grand dame wants to age, Shana thought.
The Blackberry vibrated again. Justin sent a reply requesting her to bring the latest figures to their lunch.
Shana answered his text message.
Then he sent another message. “Is the steam room operational?”
Shana gaped at the message and felt an electric shock zing through her body. A vision of Justin stark naked sitting in the steam room filled her mind. The pressure of Justin’s lips on hers was a memory she’d been fighting all day. It was bad enough she couldn’t sleep due to dreams about making love with Justin, but going through her day trying to keep her mind on the task at hand was nearly impossible.
There was no question in her mind that Justin only wanted facts related to the work progress in the hotel. She was certain that memories of her in the steam room did not haunt him. He had plenty of gorgeous women to help him erase a simple kiss from his head. It was Shana’s guess that in a given week, Justin probably had dozens of kisses, hundreds even, from several others. He was a player and in her book, that was the same as a criminal. She thought of all those women he’d known. There was no question in her mind that he’d left a string of broken hearts. Such a man could never be trusted.
“None of which should matter to me in the least,” she told herself. “Justin and I have a business relationship. Nothing more. Nothing else.”
Shana is stone, Justin thought to himself as he looked at the beautiful woman sitting across from him on the banquette at L’Absinthe. He had hoped the very Parisian décor and the French menu would have put a romantic tone on their conversation, but Shana was all business. She kept her eyes so focused on the budget sheets, he didn’t think she’d looked at him once.
The frosted tulip sconces cast a soft glow onto Shana’s blonde hair, which she’d clipped to her nape. She told Justin she’d walked from the hotel to the restaurant, which was no short distance and he saw the tote bag that carried her Nike’s that attested to the truth of her statement. He guessed the brisk walk was the cause of the still damp tendrils that had escaped the clip and now dangled down the back of her neck.
Justin suddenly had an urge to kiss that creamy column of flesh. He wanted to see if there was any response to him. Then he felt himself start to get hard. He fought the blast of erotic sensations he felt as he listened to Shana’s soft, melodious voice fill his ears. He tried not to linger on fantasies of what he might have done, could have done in the steam room with her had he not lied to her.
He stirred in his seat. He drank a huge slug of icy cold water. Then he looked at her neck again. It was ivory white as if it had never seen the sun a single day. He knew her skin was soft because he’d touched her breast before.
My God, this is insane! He thought to himself. She thinks she is just my employee. She doesn’t know that I need her to be my wife. Get a grip, man. Don’t blow this before you start.
She had asked him a question. Again with no response. Shana stared at Justin. “You’re preoccupied with something. Maybe we should do this later,” she suggested good -naturedly.
“I am,” he admitted with a slow smile. “I confess I was thinking how beautiful you look today.”
Shana stared at him as if she hadn’t heard him. A compliment was just about the
last thing she’d expected from Justin’s lips. “What? Uh, I mean thanks?”
He chuckled and sat back in his chair slipping his arm over the back, which caused his suit jacket to open and reveal an expensive white silk shirt that was cut close to his muscular chest that she remembered with incredible clarity. Involuntarily, she licked her lips and then instantly caught herself.
Justin saw it and smiled more broadly. “You don’t believe you’re beautiful?”
Shana got the impression he was teasing her now, which was fine in and of itself, but why was he moving the conversation off business? He was the one who requested this meeting. Shana was confused and unfortunately, it showed. “I suppose I do. I never gave it much thought, really.”
“Surely people have told you that all your life,” he said flashing her a smile that could easily melt glaciers.
“Not really. Most of my childhood I was chubby and wore glasses and endured a series of retainers and finally braces over a seven year period. Trust me, beautiful was not what the kids called me.”
“What did they call you?”
“Four eyes,” Shana replied with a stabbing pain she’d thought had been long ago buried.
“I’m sorry,” Justin said with such soft empathetic tones, Shana looked up into his trusting blue eyes. For a long moment she wondered what her life would have been like, if anyone had been there for her when she was a child going through those terrible times. “I would have beat them up for you,” he said jokingly. “What did your Dad do?”
Shaking her head and glancing away, Shana realized she was fighting tears. “He had died by that time. There wasn’t anyone to help me. In fact, my Mom was working the Inn all the time and I was expected to help her out and that meant taking care of my three younger sisters and two brothers.”
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