12 Stocking Stuffers
Page 62
She inhaled deeply and raised her chin. “You’re right. I have to get a grip and concentrate on damage control.”
“Attagirl.”
She exhaled. “Want some coffee?”
He checked his watch. “Sure, I’ve got a few minutes left on my break.”
“Okay,” she said, pouring the hot liquid into a cup for her friend. “Let’s go over what we know he knows about the hotel and about me.”
“Well, for starters, he knows we’re shorthanded in the salon.”
She frowned, then nodded.
He ticked off the items on his fingers. “He watched you stab yourself with a clipboard, the scarf incident in the elevator you told me about and the fire in the dining room.”
Her confidence started to slide.
“He was there when the tree got wedged in the front door, plus he came to the party last night, watched everyone get drunk and saw you dress up like a Christmas Playmate to pass out gifts.”
She slouched on her stool.
“He knows something strange happened to his pajama pants. And let’s not forget,” Manny said, then jerked a thumb toward her bedroom.
She closed her eyes. “Oh, God. Don’t remind me.”
“By the way,” he said lightly. “How was it?”
Cutting her gaze to him, she considered lying, then sighed. “Un-freaking-believable.”
He grinned. “Really?”
“I think I passed out once.”
“Darn.”
“Yeah, it’s a shame he turned out to be a conniving, lowlife, corporate scumbag who came here to dig up dirt on me.”
“Well, how did he act this morning? Was he sorry?”
She scrunched up her face. “No, the jerk had the nerve to act surprised—he said I’d known his identity all along.”
“But didn’t he tell you he sold adult toys?”
She nodded, then stopped, replaying their elevator conversation. “He said he was in sales, and when I asked him what kind, he answered ‘trinkets and things.’”
A frown wrinkled Manny’s forehead. “And from that comment, you assumed the man sold X-rated playthings?”
Cindy scoffed. “No. Then I asked if he was here for the trade show next week, and he said something like ‘As a matter of fact, I am preparing for next week.’”
Manny sighed. “Except he really meant he was preparing for his ream team to arrive at the Chandelier House for a good going-over.”
“Well, now I know that, but with the condoms and all—”
“What condoms?”
She rubbed her temples. “When I was in his bathroom washing up, he told me to get a couple of bandages out of his toiletry bag. I unzipped a pocket, and out fell enough contraceptives for China.”
“Which is interesting, but not particularly incriminating.”
“It was other things he said,” she insisted, then snapped her fingers. “He told me his father didn’t approve of his line of work.”
Manny shrugged. “Another blanket statement.”
“But there’s more!” The words tumbled out as she remembered them. “Last night we were talking about convention groups and I said something about the adult toy people—no, wait, I said ‘his people’ would be arriving shortly.”
He held up his hands. “His people will be arriving shortly.”
“Then he said he was glad I knew what he did for a living and hoped I understood why he had to be discreet.”
“Bingo! From that point on, he thought you knew he was Stanton.”
She gaped. “But if I knew he was Stanton, why would I have invited him to the party?”
“To butter him up, ply him with liquor.”
Nodding in dismay, she said, “He did say that people tended to treat him differently once they knew the truth about him.” She felt the blood drain from her face. “He said he was glad to see his line of work wouldn’t interfere with our ‘friendship.’”
“And you said?”
She stared at him. “I told him I was open-minded.”
Manny drained his cup and set it down with finality. “Well, at least now we know how the mix-up occurred, and that Stanton didn’t bed you under false pretenses.”
“No, he simply thought I knew who he was and would sleep with him anyway.”
He shrugged. “Probably not the first time it’s happened to him.”
She stopped, suddenly remembering the questions he’d asked about the chandelier. Nausea clutched her stomach. How much had she divulged?
“I’d better get back to work,” he said, pushing away from the bar. “The decorators are supposed to have unveiled the tree by now. Will I see you later?”
She nodded numbly. “I’m going to call a quick staff meeting as soon as I shower and do something with my hair.”
“In that case,” he said with a wink, “I’ll see you in the spring.” Manny gave her forehead a sympathetic rub, then placed her wayward false eyelashes in the palm of her hand.
Cindy sighed. “I guess I’d better get used to wearing these things.”
Manny tilted his head. “Don’t you have a pair of reading glasses somewhere?”
She sniffed and nodded, cheering slightly. “Good idea. Maybe they’ll hide my black circles, too.”
He touched his thumb to a loose tear, then smiled. “Just you wait. Stanton will be gone by Christmas and you’ll forget this ever happened.”
Touched, Cindy watched Manny leave, then leaned heavily against the wall. “Gonna find out who’s naughty or nice,” she whispered.
ERIC TOWELED HIS HAIR DRY, mulling over the events of the last few hours. If he understood the scene in Cindy’s room this morning, she had been under the impression that he was some kind of adult toy salesman. Admittedly, he’d first told her he was in sales, but how she had concocted the rest of the story was beyond him.
His best guess was that someone on her staff—probably the concierge—had discovered his identity and called to deliver the news, not realizing he occupied her bed. On the other hand, if Manny had designs on Cindy for himself and suspected Eric had spent the night, the timing of the phone call might simply have been a bonus.
Regardless, the misunderstanding meant one thing—they’d slept together and he alone had known it would pose a conflict of interest. Last night’s justification that Cindy also knew the ramifications now fell flat. He should have conducted himself like the professional he was reputed to be.
Eric finished dressing, still stupefied over how he had let himself be drawn into Cindy Warren’s bed. He’d been propositioned by women more beautiful and more determined, but never had he succumbed to temptation during an assignment. Eric cursed—he was getting sloppy.
Feeling like a heel, he slowly rehung his rumpled tuxedo in the closet. He had to talk to Cindy, to try and explain…what? That he had assumed she was the kind of woman who would sleep with the man sent to evaluate her and the hotel? He sighed, then looked down as something crunched under his shoe. He knelt and picked up two broken pieces of one of Cindy’s earrings which must have gotten tangled in his clothing. Not surprising, considering their frantic progress to her bed.
Regret washed over him. Fortunately, the break along the narrow part of the long translucent teardrop appeared to be clean. Perhaps a jeweler could repair it. He hoped so—it was the least he could do to make up for his behavior last night.
He’d promised Lancaster an update call this morning, but considering what had transpired, he needed to clear his head and decide what to do next. He had compromised his objectivity and the trust of the general manager, not to mention the trust of a “good woman,” as Jerry had called her. Great, just what he wanted for Christmas—guilt.
Flashes of their lovemaking plagued him. She had pushed buttons he hadn’t known he possessed. Oh, the silly games were fun, but when he closed his eyes, what he remembered most was the total abandon on her lovely face as she climaxed with him buried inside her. At the ripe old age of thirty-six, he was no sexual novic
e, but no woman had ever bared her vulnerability to him that way. For a few seconds, she had passed complete control of her body and soul to him. She had trusted him, only to discover this morning that he wasn’t the person—or the man—she’d thought him to be.
And she was right, of course. He wasn’t a lovable man—hell, his own father preferred not to have him around. He had no business entertaining thoughts of spending time with Cindy Warren. She ran a hotel for misfits, ignoring corporate policies and making a laughingstock of what could be a stately property. He and Cindy Warren might be in perfect harmony between the sheets, but when it came to business, they were way off-key.
He wrapped the broken earring in a tissue and tucked the package inside his shirt pocket. Cindy didn’t answer her phone, and he couldn’t think of an appropriate message to leave, so he simply hung up. Perhaps he would catch her in the lobby and talk to her before she left the hotel.
Opting for the stairwell so he could smoke half a cigarette on the way, Eric slowly descended to the lobby. His temples throbbed with a nicotine headache, and his lower back hurt from either the strange mattress or the high-spirited ride he’d given Cindy the Naked Elf last night on a trip around the world. He gritted his teeth and snuffed out the cigarette. Hell’s bells, what had he gotten himself into?
From Mr. Oliver’s rigid posture behind the concierge desk, he assumed the man had indeed placed the ill-timed wake-up call.
“Good morning, Mr. Stanton,” the blond man said in a crisp tone, confirming his suspicion. When Eric neared, the man leaned forward and whispered, “I ought to punch your damn lights out.”
Eric blanched at the man’s verbal attack, then angered. “Mind your own business, Oliver.”
“We had an understanding last night when you left the party.”
Eric chewed the inside of his cheek. “Cindy made the pass.”
Manny scoffed. “She didn’t know who the hell you were!”
“Well, I thought she did.”
The blond man looked disgusted. “So is this standard procedure for you, Stanton?”
“I’m going to overlook that comment because I know how much you care about Cindy.” Eric clenched his teeth. “Now, have you seen her?”
Manny’s mouth tightened. “Yes.”
When he didn’t elaborate, Eric asked, “Where can I find her?”
The man’s blue eyes gave away nothing. “I believe she’s taking a day of vacation.”
“So she’s already left the hotel?”
“Can I help you, Mr. Stanton?”
He turned to find Cindy standing five feet away, looking more composed than he felt at the moment. Dressed casually in a pair of slim jeans, white turtleneck and a man’s boxy plaid sport coat, she looked like a coed. She’d stuffed her too-curly reddish hair under a green velvet newsboy hat, but a few strands had managed to escape down her back. The round wire glasses were new, and flattering. No one would have guessed this serene-looking woman had spent the better part of last night naked and writhing beneath, beside and on top of him.
“May I help you, Mr. Stanton?” she repeated coolly.
Eric walked toward her, stopping at a professional distance. Striving for a level tone, he said, “Cindy, I’d like a private word with you.”
“Sure,” she said, surprising him. “Except it will have to wait until after my staff meeting.” She glanced at her watch, then gave him a polite smile. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes—perhaps I can address your concerns then.” She signaled Manny, then strode toward the elevator.
Not sure what he expected, Eric stood rooted to the spot. “Ms. Warren,” he called.
She turned.
He suddenly wanted to see her smile again. “I thought you were due a day of fun and frolic.”
Her expression remained unmoved. “Something came up,” she said simply, then kept walking.
Watching her retreating back, Eric experienced a foreign twinge…loss? He coughed and thumped his chest, deciding that smoking on an empty stomach had given him heartburn. He wheeled in the opposite direction and went in search of coffee, pondering Cindy’s impending staff meeting.
…Twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six. Cindy stopped counting her steps at the elevator and began counting the seconds until the car arrived. In her pocket, she’d clicked the end of an ink pen in quick succession so many times, she’d practically worn out the button. Counting always helped calm her, and if ever she needed a soothing ritual, it was now. In five minutes she would admit to her staff that not only was Mr. Eric Stanton on the hotel premises, but she’d unwittingly ensured him anonymous access to her employees. As for the access she’d given him to herself, well that was beyond belief or understanding.
“Goodbye, Ms. Warren.”
She spun to see Mr. Stark approaching her, suitcase in tow. Stifling a groan, she painted on a smile. “Are you leaving, Mr. Stark?”
“Yes, headed home earlier than I’d planned.” He tipped his hat. “Thanks for the great tickets last night. The rat incident aside, I must say, I enjoyed my stay.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said tightly.
He folded a business card into her hand. “If you ever decide to remodel, give me a call and I’ll take some of this junk off your hands.”
“I’ll do that. Have a nice trip home.” As soon as he disappeared toward the door, Cindy flipped over his card. Reginald Stark, Antiques. She grimaced.
Manny walked up just as the elevator doors opened. “Perfect performance,” he murmured. “Don’t let Stanton know you’re rattled.”
“Rattled?” she said airily, stepping inside. “Who’s rattled?”
“Here,” he said, handing her a new ink pen. “For when the one in your pocket falls apart.”
She shot him a grateful smile, then sighed. “Do you want to hear the worst part about last night? I lost one of my earrings.”
“Did you check the bed?” he asked dryly.
“Yes, smart aleck, I did. It’s not in my room. I think I might have lost it when I put on that stupid Santa dress at the party. I checked the bar, but no luck.”
“Joel and I will look for it,” he soothed.
“I think this might be the worst week of my life,” she said as they approached the meeting room. “Do you think the staff will stone me?”
“They’ll come around when they realize he hoodwinked you, too.”
“Oh, now I feel better.”
“Don’t torture yourself. This was all one big misunderstanding. If he was good in bed, count your blessings.”
“Unless this affects his review of the hotel in a bad way. Talk about performance anxiety.”
“So call corporate human resources and tell them what happened—you thought he was a guest.”
“And then everyone in the home office will think I’m seducing guests on a regular basis.”
“That’s ridiculous, Cindy. My goldfish get more booty than you do.”
“I know that and you know that, but extended abstinence is difficult to prove.” She glanced around, then lowered her voice. “Especially after Mr. Stanton and I set land records for speed and endurance last night.” She groaned. “Manny, I don’t know what it is about this man, but just when I think I can’t do anything more idiotic around him, I amaze myself.”
With her heart pounding, she walked into the boardroom and greeted her staff already seated around the table. She decided to stand, eyeing the distance to the door in case she needed to make a quick getaway.
“This must be important,” Joel piped up, “considering you’re supposed to be off today after bringing a real, live date to the party.” A titter traveled around the room, stopping at Manny, who studied the ceiling tile.
Her cheeks flamed with memories of just how alive Eric had been last night—and just how much she’d wanted to kill him this morning. Still, she dredged up a wry smile. “I am planning to do my Christmas shopping later, but, um—” She cleared her throat. “First I want to discuss a personal matter with
you.”
Amy, sporting a white breathe-easy strip on her red nose, leaned forward. “Is everything okay, Cindy?”
She nodded vaguely, glanced at Manny, then plunged ahead. “I b-believe most of you met the gentleman who escorted me to the party last night.”
“Oh, my God,” Sam said, leaping to her feet. “Eric proposed, didn’t he?”
The room erupted while Cindy nearly swallowed her tongue.
“You’re getting married?” Joel exploded. He began clapping and hooting.
Approaching hysteria, Cindy waved her arms. “Wait!”
The door in the back of the room opened and to her abject horror, Eric Stanton walked into the melee.
Manny silenced the room with a two-finger whistle.
Everyone turned to stare at Eric.
He indicated the door. “I’m sorry to interrupt. I knocked.” Edging closer, he said, “I have a feeling I’m the reason this meeting was called.”
Unable to maintain eye contact with him, Cindy nodded, practically numb. “You might as well come in.” She waved everyone back into their seats, her mind spinning.
Joel frowned. “So are you and Eric getting married or what?” He yelped in pain and jerked back, eyeing Manny directly across the table.
She wished for something sharp to throw at Joel, then gripped the edge of the table. “First of all,” she said with deadly calm, “I’m not getting married anytime in the foreseeable future. And second—” She inhaled and swept an arm toward Eric. “Everyone, may I introduce Mr. Eric Quinn Stanton.”
He stepped up and glanced around the group, falling short of a smile. “Good morning. As you have previously been briefed, my review team and I will be conducting a routine study of your operations at the request of your parent company. I met most of you last night. Hello to the new faces.”
Jaws dropped. Eyes bulged. Adam’s apples bobbed. She watched as incredulity transformed to confusion, then accusing gazes swung back to her.
“Ms. Warren didn’t discover my identity until—” He caught her gaze and she silently begged him not to say “this morning” with all its lewd connotations. “Until a short while ago,” he finished.
Cindy glanced back to the group. “As we discussed, the rest of Mr. Stanton’s team will be arriving soon, but on Saturday instead of Monday. According to my schedule, they will be on the premises for five days, leaving on Wednesday the twenty-third.” She looked to Eric for confirmation.