by Karen Booth
“Sawyer,” she whispered. “Are you awake?” No answer. She crossed her arms, twisted her lips and looked around the room. Now what? No more whispering, that was for sure. “Sawyer, I need to go.”
He raised his head and turned to her, eyes half-open. “What? Did you say something?”
Oh good God, he was even more adorable than she’d prepared herself for, especially with a crease across his cheek. Best to do this quick. “I have to go. I can’t be into the office late and I really need to get home and change my clothes.”
He flipped to his back, tucking the sheet underneath his body, leaving himself barely covered at all. “I hate to see you go, but I understand.” He glanced over at the nightstand. “Is this for me?” He moved over on the mattress and patted the spot next to him. She didn’t accept the invitation. “Wow. What a treat. Sometimes the housekeeper brings me coffee, but I’m not hot for her like I am for you.” He took a sip and bobbed his eyebrows at her. “Come here for a sec.”
“I should really go. It doesn’t look good for the woman who wants the VP job to be late.”
“Just a second. I promise. No funny business.”
She knew very well that the minute she sat down on the edge of his bed, she was going to want to kiss him. She was going to want to fall back into everything they had done together yesterday and last night. That was a fantasy world worth visiting, but not a place to live. She had to remind herself of that. “Just a second.” She perched on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs, trying to keep to herself, but the first thing he did was take her hand.
“I just want to tell you that yesterday was amazing. I’m an idiot for not calling after the wedding. And I’m very sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’ve already apologized. I lied to you about the ring. We’re more than even on the topic of making mistakes.”
“Look, I’m apologizing on selfish grounds here. I still feel like I have things to make up for. I haven’t taken you out to eat for a proper dinner. If any woman deserves to be wined and dined, it’s you.” He cleared his throat and sat up in bed.
Kendall closed her eyes. It was one thing for him to tempt her with his body, but quite another for him to pursue her with his words. She had no defense for a man who could say romantic things. She had to remember how often those words ended up being empty, holding nothing real. “Maybe a work dinner. Maybe. Definitely no wining and dining. Not while I’m working for you. And we’re going to have to talk about this another time. I’m going to be late.”
“Tonight?”
She blinked about fifty times. “You do remember what a risk I took by coming over here, don’t you? By staying over here? By sleeping with you. This can’t happen again. It was wonderful, but it can’t happen again.”
He narrowed his gaze and a crease formed between his eyes. “I took a risk, too. What if something bad happened between us? I would still need your help on the Grand Legacy. And then where would we be? Stuck in an uncomfortable working situation, and I don’t have time for that.”
Kendall couldn’t even believe what he was saying. He’d taken a risk? She got up from the bed and straightened her dress, making a point of standing back so he couldn’t touch her. “Perhaps you took a risk, too, but I took a far greater one. You are your own boss. The worst thing you’ll have to endure is a few awkward conversations. I am not my own boss. I do not have the safety net of a trust fund or a vast inheritance or even actual job security. My boss would fire me, no questions asked, if she knew about this.”
“How in the world is anyone going to find out? It’s not like we weren’t careful.”
“Sawyer, listen to yourself. Your dad is watching your every move. And I’m fairly certain after yesterday that he’s following mine, too. I’m the one who has to walk downstairs right now and get into a cab. Anyone could see me leaving your apartment building. And then what?”
Sawyer sighed and absentmindedly scratched a spot right above his belly button, where an inexplicably sexy trail of hair led both north and south. It’d be a miracle if she got out of Sawyer Locke’s apartment alive. “I’d like to see you again.”
“And you will. When we meet at the hotel the day after tomorrow for the Margaret Sharp interview. We’ll see each other and our working relationship will remain in good condition, we’ll get some fabulous photographs of your beautiful hotel and come New Year’s Eve, your hotel will reopen to so much fanfare your head will be spinning.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But that’s what’s most important to you, isn’t it? The hotel?”
“That’s not a fair question. We don’t know each other that well.”
“Exactly the reason neither one of us should risk everything, just because we enjoy having sex with each other.”
“You certainly know how to be the voice of reason, don’t you?” He climbed out of bed, forgoing the sheet, walking up to her stark naked. “Just promise me one thing.”
Kendall felt like her heart was about to throw in the towel as he crept closer. How could it withstand the stops and starts involved with being around Sawyer? And then there were her poor eyes...she knew she should be looking at his face, but it was hard not to take one last look at everything she was giving up. “What’s that?”
He grasped her elbow and leaned into her. “On New Year’s Eve, when you’ve done your job, and my long nightmare is over, tell me you’ll kiss me when the clock strikes twelve.”
Kendall knew his request would eventually prove to be an empty statement. Sawyer was experiencing some sort of sex-induced amnesia. He didn’t date. He didn’t wait around for women. By the time New Year’s Eve arrived, he’d have some other woman on his arm and Kendall would be forced to smile and pretend like it didn’t bother her. But that would only last one night and she could probably live through that.
“Okay. I promise.” She let herself out of his apartment and hurried downstairs to the lobby, but she was now faced with Walter, while she was essentially doing the walk of shame in yesterday’s rumpled dress.
“Yes, of course,” Walter replied when she asked him to hail her a cab, but Kendall could read the disapproving tone of his voice.
She put on her sunglasses and didn’t say another word as Walter walked out to the street and blew a whistle when a cab slowed at the intersection.
“Thank you,” she said, slipping a few dollars into Walter’s hand. She ducked into the cab and closed the door right away. They were only partway down the block when her phone beeped with a text from Wes.
What happened to you yesterday?
She could already tell today was going to take great amounts of patience. Grand Legacy. Lots to do. Weather didn’t help.
Were you with Sawyer?
Kendall’s focus narrowed on her phone. Was she becoming overly paranoid? Yes. At the hotel.
She didn’t enjoy lying, but Wes was a special case in her mind. His behavior begged for selective information. Luckily, he stopped the inquisition there. Kendall slumped back in the seat, feeling as conflicted as she’d ever felt. Yesterday and last night with Sawyer had been everything she could have wanted from a night with him. But more of that wasn’t in the cards for her right now. No use getting all excited about something that wouldn’t last, however enjoyable and tempting it might be.
Kendall asked the driver to wait for her when she got to her apartment. She ran inside, changed clothes, sprayed some dry shampoo in her hair and was back in the cab in ten minutes flat. Balancing her cosmetic bag on her lap, she put on some makeup during the ride to the office. Miracle of miracles, she arrived at work only one minute late. She was feeling a good deal of personal triumph until she ran into Wes.
“Somebody sent you roses. Big, fat, red roses.”
“Oh, really?” she asked nonchalantly, even though she was thrown into a full-on panic. Ha
d Sawyer sent her flowers? She’d just been with him an hour ago. And to her job? He wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t that sort of guy. Or was he? He’d certainly seemed hell-bent on romance. He was being all seductive and impossible to resist, damn him.
She hurried back to her office. Sure enough, there on her desk sat a huge splay of long-stemmed roses in a tall glass vase, filling the room with a heady, sweet perfume. There had to be two dozen, and they were beautiful.
She closed her door behind her, so no one would see. There was a big part of her that wanted Sawyer to send her flowers. She wanted him to be that guy—hopelessly sweet and unafraid to make a grand gesture, even if it could get her in a heap of trouble. Her heart was beating a million miles a minute as she pulled the card out of the florist’s envelope.
For Kendall,
With hopes that you’ll accept my offer. I can’t wait long.
Fondly,
James Locke
The blood in her veins went cold. She collapsed into her chair. A very powerful man with countless connections and endless means had just threatened her for the second time, in a way that was, quite frankly, chilling. The worst part of it was that she was falling for his son. And that might spell disaster.
Nine
Sawyer needed to look good for the Margaret Sharp interview—they were going to photograph him in the speakeasy, behind the bar. Unfortunately, he had to cut his shower short. His phone was going crazy.
“Noah?” he answered, putting the call on speakerphone so he could wrap a towel around his waist.
“Where have you been?” Noah’s voice said he was out of breath. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you.”
“I was taking a shower.”
“The hotel was vandalized.”
Oh good God. No.
“I just got a call from Jerry. He was first on site this morning. I’m on my way over right now. You should do the same if you aren’t already on your way.”
Sawyer swiped at the fog on the mirror, shaking his head. There was now no time to tidy up his facial hair. Kendall was going to kill him if he looked scraggly. Which might be fine. She’d been incredibly distant since they’d made love. “Yeah. Okay. I can be there in thirty.”
“I guess it’s bad.”
“How bad?” Sawyer had visions of spray paint on the walls. Maybe a broken light fixture. The rooms that were the most important, and the most complete, were all locked up—the guest rooms, the apartments on the top floors, the grand ballroom and, of course, the speakeasy.
“I don’t know, exactly.”
Noah’s voice left Sawyer with an uneasy feeling square in the middle of his chest. He was supposed to meet Kendall at nine. Margaret Sharp and her photographer were coming to the hotel at ten. And they couldn’t afford yet another delay on the project. “I’m on my way.”
He called Kendall from the car. He’d asked his driver to get him there as quickly as possible. “We might have a problem. Any chance we can reschedule the interview and photo session today?”
“What? Why? I’ve been working on this for two weeks, Sawyer. Margaret flew in from LA last night. I can’t put her off. Nobody puts her off. Nobody.”
Sawyer’s phone beeped with a call from Noah. “Kendall, I’m sorry. Noah’s on the other line. I have to take this. All I can tell you is there’s been vandalism at the hotel and Noah said it’s bad. I’m on my way there now.”
“Oh no. I’m getting in a cab right now.”
Sawyer didn’t have time for fond farewells. He had to pick up the other line. “Hey. Sorry. On the line with Kendall.”
“I almost don’t want you to come, Sawyer. It’s so much worse than bad. This is going to put us so far behind.”
Sawyer wasn’t sure which was worse—thinking about how bad it might be or actually seeing it. He only knew that he’d come too far to stop now. He wouldn’t let his dad stop him, if that was the case. “We’ll figure this out just like we’ve figured out everything else. I should be there in five minutes.”
He hung up the phone and watched out the window at the city passing by. His whole history was tied to New York. He loved it more than anything, but there were times when it felt as though this city was going to be the death of him. Would it be better if he just turned his back on the Grand Legacy, sold it and moved as far from his father as possible? Buy a hotel in Fiji, languish under blue skies, ankle-deep in crystal-clear water anytime he wanted, trade in his tailored suit for a bathing suit, and live out his days with a drink in one hand, in peace? Maybe he could convince Kendall to join him. It was a nice idea. Probably too nice.
The car rolled up in front of the Grand Legacy and Sawyer climbed out, taking a deep breath, reminding himself to keep his temper in check. People were counting on him. It was his job to be the calm and measured one.
“Sawyer!” Kendall’s voice came from behind him and he turned to see her getting out of a cab. “I came as quickly as I could.”
The sight of her was as welcome as the thoughts of Fiji and adopting a life that in no way resembled his current one. Leave it to him to entertain thoughts of third and fourth dates with a woman determined to keep her distance. “I haven’t been in yet. I have no idea what we’re walking into.”
“No reason to panic yet. I postponed our session with Margaret, but I can’t put her off forever.”
It took every bit of self-control Sawyer had not to pull her into his arms or at least take her hand. Not knowing what was waiting inside, he craved her touch.
They made their way past the daytime security—that was going to have to be around the clock now. There’d be no more relying on alarm systems, high-tech gadgetry and security cameras at night. There would be actual people on site at all times.
He and Kendall stepped into the lobby, where Noah was waiting for them. The room was uncharacteristically quiet for a weekday. It felt a bit like walking into a graveyard. “Kendall, this is my brother, Noah.”
“Nice to meet you,” Noah said as he shook her hand. It was a strong indication of how upset his brother was—he hardly looked at Kendall. Noah did not pass up the chance to chat up a beautiful woman.
“You, too.”
“Where are the crews?” Sawyer asked.
“I sent everyone except Jerry home. We need to keep this under our hats. Otherwise we have another fifty people who know what’s going on. I made up an excuse about an inspection.”
“Smart. I’m glad you’re thinking straight about this.” Sawyer clapped him on the back.
“I’m not thinking straight. And I don’t think you will be either once you see this.”
“Please. No more waiting. Let’s just get this over with. Where are we headed?”
“The speakeasy.”
Sawyer wasn’t sure he heard anything at all as they took the back stairs up to the bar. Noah was talking nonstop about what would need to be fixed, but Sawyer had to see it for himself. As it turned out, a powerful chemical smell was the first indication something was wrong. It grew stronger as he climbed each stair. He was afraid to ask what it was.
Kendall was right behind him, not saying a word. Her presence was difficult for him to grapple with. He wanted her there. By now she was as integral a part of this project as anyone. But he also didn’t want her pulled into his family drama. He didn’t want to give her even more proof that very little behind the scenes with the Lockes was ever pretty.
Noah opened the wood back entry door, the one with the small circular window that mirrored the design of the window on the front of the hotel. It all happened in slow motion as Sawyer stepped inside and caught the first glimpse. Upholstery was slashed. Drywall had been torn down to the studs. The art deco metal screens between the booths had all been toppled, and were nothing more than gnarled pieces of scrap. The pendant light fixtures above the bar were
smashed. Glass covered the carpet like uncut diamonds.
Kendall gasped. Sawyer couldn’t manage a single sound. It was as if twenty hands were clasped around his throat and he was powerless to fight for words. He took another step and the carpet squished beneath his feet. “What the?”
“They poured something all over the carpet. A cleaning product, we think. I wouldn’t walk around on it too much.”
“Is it just this room? Please tell me they didn’t get to the ceiling in the grand ballroom.”
“It was all in here,” Noah answered. “But you and I both know this is a disaster. The amount of custom work in this space could put us behind by months.”
Right now, he wasn’t thinking about how long it would take to catch up. He was too stuck on one detail. The destruction was limited to the speakeasy. This was more than an act of vandalism. It was a message. Sent directly by his father.
Sawyer felt something in the center of his back, then Kendall’s voice, the only pleasant thing in this room. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’ll get the interview rescheduled for later this afternoon so you can do whatever it is you need to work on this morning. We’ll tell Margaret this room isn’t ready to be photographed.”
“What are you going to say? We specifically said we wanted this room featured.”
“I’ll tell them it was premature. The finishing touches are still being finalized. We’ll focus on the grand ballroom. That’s enough of a showpiece and no one has seen that ceiling look like that since the 1950s. It’s still an exclusive. She’ll still get what she wants.”
“Do you think she’ll be suspicious?”
She shrugged. “Honestly? I have no idea. We’ll just have to do our best to make it all seem perfectly normal. I suggest you plan on answering every single one of her questions, no matter what.”
“What does that mean?”