by Suzie Nelson
Janice nodded. “Yes, you’re on the top floor. Excellent choice. Do you have any bags?”
“They’ll be delivered shortly,” said Wolfe.
“Excellent,” said Janice. “We’ll have them brought straight up. This is our concierge, Avery. I’ll let her show you up to your room.”
Deacon nodded, his eyes briefly flicking back to Avery. “Sounds great.”
Janice handed Avery the key cards and Avery finally allowed herself to smile at the handsome man. “If you’ll just follow me,” she said, leading them to the elevator.
Deacon gave her a smile that made her feel lightheaded and nodded. “I’m all yours,” he said.
I wish, thought Avery.But the hotel had very strict policies when it came to fraternization between the staff and the guests. And Avery was a professional. She wasn’t about to run around after some guest, as sexy as he might be. Especially not this close to a promotion.
“On the roof, we have a terrace bar and restaurant, which is where we serve breakfast. Though, if you prefer, they also do a magnificent brunch. Some of the best French toast in the city, you have my personal guarantee.”
“Are you a French toast connoisseur?” Deacon asked, a sparkle in his eye.
Avery chuckled and nodded. “Well, actually, since you asked, yes, I am. I’ve been refining my tastes since I was three years old.”
“A true gourmet,” Deacon laughed. “That’s dedication to your craft.”
“Oh, yes,” Avery smiled, playing along. “I’ve suffered for my passion.”
The elevator dinged and opened onto the top floor.
“So, your rooms are just here at the end of the hall,” Avery said, leading them to the doors and letting them into the luxurious rooms. The tall windows let in the morning light, making the pale decorating look bright and inviting. For just a second, Avery let herself imagine Deacon laying her down on the large white bed. It was a nice dream. “Downstairs we have a 24-hour gym and on the first floor past the lobby, there’s a lovely, cozy drawing room with a fireplace, not that it’s really the season for that. On Sundays, we show films in our private theater. This week is Casablanca, if you’re interested. You’re here until Tuesday, aren’t you?”
“I am,” said Deacon. “And I love Casablanca.”
“Who doesn’t?” Avery smiled. “It’s a classic. Now, if you have any other questions, just give us a call at the front desk. We’re here around the clock.”
“Surely you’re not, though,” Deacon asked.
Avery shook her head and laughed lightly. “I love my job, Mr. Wolfe, but even I need to sleep. I’ll be here until seven tonight, and then you’ll be in the capable hands of Selena.”
Deacon gave her a slow, seductive half-smile and Avery felt an answering tingle from under her new pinstriped skirt. “Until seven? I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you for your help, Avery.”
Avery had to admit that it stroked her ego a little that he’d remembered her name. “My pleasure,” she replied, handing him the key cards. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”
“Oh,” Wolfe replied, his thumb brushing her fingers as he took the cards, “I’m sure I will.”
Avery took the stairs back down to the lobby, hoping the exercise would take her mind off that dizzying half-smile. They had had lots of beautiful people stay in the hotel but it wasn’t often that one affected her so much – or was so obviously as interested in her as she was in him.
Right before going back out to the front desk, Avery slipped into the staff bathroom to make sure her outfit wasn’t somehow betraying her and her burgeoning lust. She looked at herself in the mirror, unnecessarily smoothing down her crisp black top and the front of her skirt, and took a deep breath. The woman in the mirror smiled back at her. She was tall and slender, with a delicate neck and a thin face, whose best feature, in Avery’s opinion, was the large, thick-lashed brown eyes, framed by long, dark eyebrows. Even as a teenager, when she’d anguished over her thin body and ramrod straight chestnut hair, Avery had always loved her eyes.
But, while she had come to love her athletic frame and distinct features, guests tended to prefer Selena’s showy blonde, busty beauty to Avery’s more understated charms. Not that Avery minded. She wasn’t really the type to flirt and bat her eyelashes at the guests. But there’s something about Deacon that made her feel both relaxed and turned on at the same time. Avery blew out her cheeks and left the bathroom. She’d have to watch herself.
“There you are!” Janice smiled. “He certainly took a shine to you, didn’t he?”
Avery fought to keep herself from blushing. Had it been that obvious? “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “I think he might be the kind that just likes to flirt.” Which, to be fair, might very well be true.
But Janice wasn’t buying it. “Uh huh,” she said, raising an eloquent eyebrow. “Well, whatever the reason, you could do a heck of a lot worse. You do know who he is, right?”
Avery made a face. “I know his name from somewhere, but, honestly, I have no idea.”
“God, girl, do you literally live under a rock?” Janice shook her head, grinning.
“Maybe a little,” Avery smiled. “Tell me who he is.”
“He’s the son of Howard Wolfe, who owns that huge chain of luxury hotels in Asia.” Janice raised her eyebrows, waiting for the penny to land.
“Oh my God, you mean he’s one of the Wolfes? Like, the Wolfes who are in middle of buying us?” Avery gaped down at the other woman.
“Yep. He’s one of those Wolfes. Plus, he’s only, like, the most eligible bachelor in New York. He’s only thirty and he runs his father’s Hong Kong and Singapore branches. Word is they’re opening a new one in Indonesia next year. He must be in town for the deal.”
“Oh God,” said Avery. “I didn’t put two and two together. I had no idea! How could I be such an idiot?”
Janice shrugged. “It is only 7:30 in the morning. Plus he seems pretty down to earth for a multi-millionaire. He probably appreciated the fact that you didn’t start sucking up to him just because he’s the new owner’s son.”
“On the other hand, it’s more likely that he’s a spoiled brat and is totally offended by the fact that I didn’t do exactly that!” Avery put her head in her hands.
“Nah,” said Janice. “He had the hots for you. I seriously don’t think he minded.”
Avery peeked out from between her fingers. “You really think so?” she asked miserably.
“I really think so,” Janice replied. “Chill, boss. You look like amazing in that skirt. Harness that power.”
Avery let her hands fall. “Oh well, if nothing else, tonight he’ll meet Selena and she’ll give him all the attention he could want. She so much better with men than I am.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” Janice replied, “but she certainly has a gift for showing her tits in their faces.”
“Janice!” Avery frowned. “She’s not like that. She’s just good at flirting, that’s all. It’s not her fault she’s drop dead gorgeous.”
Janice looked up at her future boss. “There’s good at flirting, and there’s good at flirting, Avery. And you’re ten times prettier than she is. You just don’t gussy yourself up as much.”
Avery shook her head. “Now you’re just living in a fantasy land.”
Janice laughed. “Suit yourself, Avery. But I bet Deacon Wolfe would agree with me.”
“Stop it!” Avery half-giggled, half-moaned as she lightly slapped Janice with a brochure. “God, I can’t believe I flirted with a Wolfe!”
“You go, girl,” said Janice, dodging the brochure.
Then the front doors opened and an elegant older woman in a Chanel suit and pearls came striding in, followed by a parade of beautiful young men carrying an impossible amount of luggage. Janice and Avery immediately plastered on their most charming smiles and stood at attention. Everybody in the hotel business knew there was nobody so hard to please as a ri
ch woman over sixty.
Chapter 2
Deacon Wolfe pushed away the paperwork he was looking over and checked the sleek, black leather and gold watch on his wrist. He made a face. It was already eight o’clock. He’d missed the foxy little concierge from this morning. Running his hands over his face he thought back to the way her pert bum swished back and forth in her perfectly fitted pencil skirt. All the way up the hall he’d wondered what kind of nylons she was wearing. He knew it was unlikely, but he liked to imagine they were thigh-highs. He could almost imagine rolling the black lace down her long, lean legs.
His cock twitched in his slacks and he shook his head to clear it. Reaching back, he picked up the phone and rang the front desk for room service. A woman’s low, purring voice answered at the first ring.
“Concierge speaking, how may I help you?” the voice asked.
“Hi, I’m in room 714 and I’d like a cortado brought up, please. With a pastry of some sort.”
“We have some lovely freshly made pain au chocolats, if you’d like,” the beautiful voice continued.
“Perfect. One of those, please.” Deacon wondered if the woman on the other end of the voice knew she sounded like a call girl. It was sexy, but too over the top for him. She sounded like she was trying too hard.
“It’ll be right up,” said the voice.
“Thanks,” said Deacon and hung up. For a moment he sat in silence. Then he picked up the phone and called the front desk again. “Actually, sorry, you know what, I’ve changed my mind. Cancel that cortado.”
“Of course, sir,” the husky voice didn’t even sound surprised, just sexy. Deacon was mildly impressed. “Anything else I can get you instead?” Just that sounded like an innuendo and, unbidden, an image of Avery laughing sprang to mind.
“No, thanks. I think what I actually need is a bit of a walk.”
The voice laughed throatily in a way that Deacon was sure gave many men hard-ons immediately. “Well, I’m afraid that I can’t help you with it.”
He smiled. “No, I’m afraid not. Thanks for your help.”
“My pleasure,” was the smoky reply.
Deacon hung up again. Standing quickly, he crossed the room and tugged on his coat.
“Would you like me to come, sir?” Bart, his dour-looking bodyguard asked from the couch, where he was reading a magazine about guns.
Deacon shook his head. “Nah. I’m just going out for a quick walk to clear my head. If I suddenly decided to go on an all-night bender, I’ll text you.”
Bart nodded. “I’ll be ready and waiting.”
“Enjoy your magazine,” Deacon smiled.
“I always do, sir,” Bart replied.
Deacon shook his head, walking quickly to the elevators. Bart had subscriptions to have a dozen different gun magazines but Deacon just couldn’t see the appeal. Then again, he supposed that guns were the tools of Bart’s trade. You had to keep up-to-date, after all.
Deacon recognized the owner of the call girl voice without even needing to see her name tag. Behind the front desk, a stunning woman in a tight black linen dress and high, patent leather heels stood sorting mail. Her thick, wavy blonde hair had been done into one long French braid that hung over one shoulder and rested on her beautiful, golden cleavage. She looked like she’d walked right off a California beach and into business clothes.
As he approached, her tawny eyes flicked up from the mail and met his. Her large red lips curled slowly upwards in an appreciate smile. She liked what she saw. Or at least, she wanted him to think that she did. She was very good, Deacon had to give her that. But all her actions, from her sultry smile to the way she stood with one hip cocked to make her ass look better (not that it needed the help) were a bit too pat for his taste. A bit too showy.
“Hello,” he said, stopping briefly on his way out the door. “I believe we spoke on the phone a minute ago. I’m the undecided cortado drinker.”
The beauty gave a throaty laugh. “Yes, of course. I’m Selena, the night concierge.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said. “I just wanted to say thanks for your understanding.”
“Not at all,” she smiled, looking at him through heavy lidded eyes. “Our guests’ comfort is our first and foremost priority, Mr. Wolfe.”
Deacon nodded. “Glad to hear it,” he said and headed for the door, leaving the beautiful Selena alone at the desk.
For a while Deacon simply wandered the streets, slowly making his way to Central Park, enjoying the evening air. The golden light that came just before sunset was making the city even more beautiful than usual and Deacon felt as if he could have walked aimlessly like that forever.
The bright green flush of spring still lingered, but he knew that soon the summer humidity would have the city tight it its sweaty fist. Growing up he’d always hated the swampy heat of New York summers. Not that his family had ever stayed in the city. As soon as the first heat wave approached they had had their penthouse suite packed up and moved the whole family out to the summer mansion in the Hamptons. It helped that the “whole family” consisted of Deacon, his mother, and her small yappy lap dog, Bitzy. His father had only ever come out on the weekends – if that.
After wondering around for a while, Deacon crossed into Central Park. Breathing deeply, he smiled as he walked through the looping trails. All around him, people were going about their daily business: tourists were pouring over maps trying to figure out where they were, couples were cooing at each other (or arguing), kids were screeching with delight as they ran around, teenagers were draped across any stationary surface, texting frantically. Ah, New York. Deacon had missed his city. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent a whole week back. It had been years at least.
Working for his father’s hotel chain was fun and rewarding. Ever since he’d graduated from university and shown an aptitude for business, his father had started giving him more and more responsibility within the company. He’d started by managing one tiny boutique hotel in Paris and, slowly, he’d worked his way up from there. His father had always said that if his son was going to inherit it all when he died, then Deacon had damn well known what he was doing.
And Deacon did. It had even been his idea to expand into Asia, and, once his father saw that Deacon was taking his job seriously, he’d let Deacon run with it. Now Asia was one of their most successful markets. And Deacon loved his job. He loved living in Hong Kong – it was a beautiful, fascinating city. And he loved getting to travel the length and breadth of Asia, seeing cultures he’d only ever read about as a child. But, he had to admit, every once in a while it was nice to just come home. So, when his father had asked him if he’d like to oversee the purchase of the Crosby Street Hotel, he’d jumped at the chance.
As he walked, Deacon let his thoughts drift back to their favorite topic of late: Avery, the world’s most adorable concierge. She’d clearly had no idea he was one of the same Wolfe family that was currently in the process of buying her hotel, and Deacon had liked that she didn’t make a big deal of him. It had been clear from the start that she found him as attractive as he found her, the way she looked at him had spoken volumes, but her professionalism hadn’t wavered – unfortunately. But Deacon liked women who played it cool. Like most men, he liked the hunt. He thought back to her pert bum in its tight pencil skirt and her quick, laughing smile and grinned to himself.
And then, suddenly, as if summoned, there she was. Deacon stared. He thought maybe he was dreaming, or had mistaken some other slender brunette for her, but no, the longer he looked, the more undeniable it was: Avery was sitting on a park bench sipping a green smoothie and reading Mrs. Dalloway. Her rich chestnut hair was out of its tight bun and fell over her shoulders, glowing in the golden sunlight. As he watched, she tucked it behind one ear, frowning adorably at her book. She’d changed into a simple pink cotton dress that highlighted the rich warm hues of her skin.
I am the luckiest man on earth, thought Deacon Wolfe as
he watched her.
Quickly, a little scared that she would disappear into thin air if he waited too long, Deacon crossed to her bench. “Avery?” he asked, a smile spreading across his face.
Startled, the concierge jumped slightly as she looked up, lowering her book. “Holy shit,” she said. Her eyes grew wide as she realised she’d just sworn in front of a client. “I mean….Mr. Wolfe. Sorry. I – I didn’t see you there.”
Deacon chuckled at her flustered response. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to the bench.
“Of course,” she replied, her eyes flicking up and down his body surreptitiously. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Are you enjoying your stay? No problems with the room, I hope.”
