Hustled To The Altar

by Dani Collins

  Outrage darkened her skin and parted her lips.

  He jerked back as she sat up, narrowly avoiding a forehead to the nose. “Look, I know it spoils the romance and romance is important to women, but I think it’s more important that both people be sure.”

  “I don’t know why I’m surprised. You turned me down the first time, too. But, for future reference . . . ” She spoke with sarcasm while her voice rose with indignation. “Do you think you’re ever going to want to fuck me?”

  Someone knocked on the door.

  There was no question that whoever stood outside the door had heard. After a pointed silence, a doubt-filled woman’s voice murmured, followed by a man’s. Spencer recognized the voices, even though he couldn’t decipher the words. Renny and Con. He cringed.

  Laila closed her eyes and dropped her face into her hands.

  Heat rose like a prickling rash from Spencer’s chest to his forehead, trailing irritation that flared into genuine anger. He was angry at Con for showing up at the worst possible time, angry at himself for creating this situation and angry with Laila for reducing what had almost happened between them to something as basic as fucking.

  “No,” he said quietly. “I want a hell of a lot more from you than a quick fuck.”

  She pulled her face out of her hands, shocked.

  Behind the door, he heard Renny speak again, in urging tones, then Con, dismissing whatever she said. Another knock came, this one more insistent.

  “Spencer,” Con called.

  Damn. Well, he wasn’t going to avoid facing Con. Fortunately, the shock of hearing Con’s voice took most of the starch out of his erection. With a minor adjustment and some straightening of his clothes, he was presentable enough to open the door.

  Con gave Renny a nudge and she stumbled into the room, smiling apologetically.

  Con followed in a casual stroll, hands tucked into his pockets, bearing straight and expression pleasant.

  “I’m looking for my pilot,” Con said. “Apparently he’s in here. Flying low.”

  Spencer and Laila both checked. Laila zipped.

  “Con, this is awkward enough,” Renny admonished.

  “I have an insatiable appetite for awkward.”

  “You would,” Laila mumbled.

  “That’s all you got? You would?” Con asked.

  “How about, get out?” she offered.

  Con turned to Renny. “All day, people have been trying to kick me out of rooms I paid for.”

  Laila shot a questioning glance at Spencer.

  Okay, he hadn’t been honest when he had let her believe he was paying for the food from the fridge, but he hadn’t seen any point in clarifying the accounting when the truth was, he could afford it. He tried to make his voice work. Renny was quicker.

  “Quit baiting her,” she ordered Con.

  “Me? She’s the one fishing for a story.”

  “Laila didn’t bring Spencer to this hotel room. I booked it and asked him to bring her here, to keep her away from Felix.”

  “And he really went above and beyond the call of duty. Remind me to give you a raise, Spence.”

  Laila had known when she had seen Con in town that this story could be the death of her career. What she hadn’t known was that it would be the death of her dignity. She could stay in this room and maybe get a story that would land her a new job, but it would cost her self-respect. She picked up her bag and swung it onto her shoulder.

  “Laila, wait,” Spencer said.

  “Screw you,” she muttered.

  “I thought you already established that he wasn’t interes—ouch!” Con removed Renny’s elbow from his belly and scowled at her.

  She scowled right back.

  As Laila tried to leave, Spencer stood in front of her. “Listen first, then decide if you’re leaving. Renny, I told Laila I’d ask you to give her an exclusive interview. If you don’t want to do it and Laila walks, so do I.”

  Laila stopped trying to tug her arm from Spencer’s hand and stared at him in disbelief. That had to be hard for him. She could see the strain around his lips and the stiff way he held himself. Spencer was the last person to seek a confrontation, but he stood tall and made her proud. She bit her lip. Yes, he stood tall and he stood for her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had done anything but disparage her. Moved, she fought welling up and getting emotional.

  And waited to hear Con fire Spencer.

  “If that’s—” Con began.

  Renny jumped in. “Well, Con, finding a way for everyone to win in this situation is going to be quite a challenge. Are you up to it?”

  He turned a flat stare on Renny. “Gosh, Renny, you’re so subtle I barely feel manipulated at all.”

  “Well really, Con, what’s more important? Your friendship with Spencer? Having a great pilot at your disposal when we need one? Getting your grandmother’s money back? Or, scoring a minor point against a former adversary in a game you won a long time ago?”

  He folded his arms and didn’t say anything.

  “Take a view of the whole board. Think beyond this turn. Don’t move unwisely.”

  “You know it gets me hot when you talk my language.”

  “Behave.” Renny turned to Spencer. “This is obviously important to you, but it’s coming out of left field for us. What’s up?”

  Spencer had known this part would suck, but he hadn’t expected it to suck this much. He actually checked his feet to see whether they were on fire, because that’s how it felt. Hot, airless. Hellish. And throwing an ultimatum at Con had been really dumb—not just because Con reacted to a challenge like a hyperactive kid reacted to sugar, but because it was a full-sized billboard advertisement stating how infatuated Spencer was with Laila. He was barely prepared to admit it to himself, let alone anyone else.

  “I put Laila on this story.”

  “You did?” Con asked, eyes wide with disbelief and betrayal.

  “I heard Mona tell Renny what had happened, and I emailed Laila because there’s value in this story getting told.” There. It was true and he could leave it at that. Maybe. Maybe not.

  Con was narrowing his eyes like Superman using his x-ray vision.

  “There are a thousand journalists you could have sent this to, Spencer. Any reason you chose Laila?” Renny asked.

  Con raised his brows, as if to say, Yeah, any reason?

  “I knew she’d treat the subject fairly.”

  Con snorted.

  Aw, hell, Spence thought. Now he had to pull out that macho stand-by, the ready stance and unbroken stare that said, Mind your manners, because I will throw the first punch.

  Con held the stare.

  Spencer was shy, but he wasn’t a coward. He knew how to hold his own with bulls and bar fighters and the first rule was no blinking. He didn’t want this to be a deal-breaker on their friendship, though, so he said, “I didn’t know you were coming here.” He hoped it would be enough of a concession to defuse the situation.

  “There you go,” Renny said to Con with forced brightness. “Laila didn’t come up here looking for you, and Spencer didn’t send her after you on purpose. No need to start drawing lines in the sand, right?”

  “I’m not talking to her,” Con said.

  “You don’t have to. I will,” Renny said. “As long as Con is kept out of it, I’d be happy to answer a few questions, Laila.”

  “Great,” Laila said, ready to agree to just about anything if it meant keeping these men from putting each other in the hospital. “But if this is going to—”

  “You’re doing the story,” Spencer told her, turning the blunt force of his stare on her.

  “Okay,” she said in a near whisper. She wondered why she was so turned on by the kind of tough-guy act that, from any other man, would have turned her off. At the same time, an avalanche of guilt packed itself around her feet. “You don’t have to do this. Why are you?”

  “Because you’ll do a good job.”

  “Right.”
She swallowed. No pressure. She glanced at Renny, reading catty suspicion in her expression. She moved on to Con but could stand only a millisecond of his contempt before she zeroed in on Spencer’s steady gaze again.

  For a moment, she debated the repercussions of staying, asking herself whether she would be selling out her principles if she accepted. Maybe. But backing out now, after Spencer had put his butt on the line, would be worse.

  “Let’s get it done, then,” she said to Renny.

  “Right now isn’t convenient.” Renny looked to Con. “We’re pressed for time.”

  “Laila’s on a deadline,” Spencer said.

  Laila held her breath. He wasn’t exactly lying for her. The deadline for Open Letter was self-imposed but very real. “Just tell me where,” she said to Renny. “I won’t get in your way and I promise I’ll be fast.”

  “Come to our suite in half an hour,” Renny suggested. “I have to see Mr. Laramie first,” she said to Con, answering his questioning frown.

  “You’re not going to let that go, are you?” Con muttered. “Fine.” He started for the door.

  “Con,” Renny said, waiting for him to turn back to her. She waggled her head toward Spencer.

  “What? You expect me to kiss and make up? Spence can kiss my—”

  “Money,” Renny reminded.

  “Oh. Right. Get your machine in the air. Vern’s got fifty grand waiting at my place,” Con said.

  “I need transport to the airport,” Spencer said.

  “The Spitfire’s at the curb. I’ll walk down and clear it for you.”

  “Fifty—?” Laila blurted. This was a story.

  “You okay?” Spencer paused on his way out to ask. His appreciative look melted her insides.

  “Yeah, of course.” Her heart was racing and she wasn’t sure if it was from the confrontation, his nearness or the bells clanging a jackpot in her head. She suddenly felt as close and personal as they’d been a few minutes ago. The anger and frustration at stopping had been as intense as her other feelings toward him. That scared her, making her want to backpedal onto safer ground.

  “I need to find Murph.”

  “Right. The story.” His expression went cool and shuttered.

  She felt like an ungrateful cow. “I mean—” Her reaching hand found only air.

  5:41 p.m.

  Con considered taking an extra minute to have it out with Spencer, but from his position curbside, Con could see through the big windows of the hotel into the lobby that he needed to be on deck. Renny had located Laramie and was smiling appealingly at the hotel manager.

  Con shelved his desire to pick a fight with his pilot, thinking it was a waste of time anyway. Spencer had made it clear where he stood. Con wished he could believe Spence was thinking with his dick but knew him well enough to suspect it was more complicated than that. They would have to clear the air at some point, but they were on the clock and Spence didn’t look any more enthusiastic about deconstructing the situation than Con was. Con okayed the valet to hand over the Spitfire keys and turned his mind to inventing new distractions to keep Renny from going after that ring.

  And making up with Jacob. She seemed to have understood him when he had shown her his Prince of Play wounds. Surely that meant they could go back to what they had had before. Surely she was ready to admit she was as crazy about him as he was about her. If she would admit it, he’d ante up with his own confession of love. He just wanted her to go first. He wanted to know she loved him.

  As Con entered the hotel, he could see Laramie shaking his head apologetically.

  Con did a mental touchdown dance. Sometimes the dice rolled in your favor.

  “Quitting time?” he asked as he approached, taking advantage of the moment to sling a comforting arm over Renny’s shoulders. “That’s okay, Laramie. You’ve put in a full day. You deserve to clock out.”

  “Staying late isn’t the problem. I need to see this group to their rooms.” Laramie motioned toward the side doors, where three bellmen were unloading a bus with the deftness of stock boys preparing for a blue-light special. “We’re the S.W.A.R.M. site this year. Social Workers of America Recreational Mixer,” he explained.

  “Social workers. Lovely.” Renny scratched her chin.

  “Perry,” Laramie said, moving forward to give some instructions to a bellman.

  “Everything okay with Spence?” Renny asked Con.

  “Fine.”

  “You know what I mean. How are you about it?”

  Pissed, disappointed, hurt. “Fine.”

  “Fine,” she repeated. “Are you angry I said I’d talk to Laila?”

  “No. It got Spencer into the air and we were running out of time for that. We are running out of time. Let this go for now.” He jerked his chin toward Laramie.

  “I can’t. Jacob might be in the room, waiting for me.”

  Laramie came back to them. “I’m very sorry, Ms. O’Laughlin. Something has come up. The minute I’m free—”

  “Wait.” Renny caught Con’s eye, looked toward his wallet pocket and jerked her head meaningfully.

  “I don’t think so,” Con said.

  “I’ll pay you back,” she said through her teeth. “If you’re not going to help me get that ring, you’re going upstairs to do the Laila interview, because that starts in twenty minutes and I’m not leaving this lobby until I get that ring back.”

  Con slipped Laramie a fifty.

  If Laramie was reluctant to take it, it didn’t show. He pocketed it with a deftness that suggested he’d been doing it since the tender age of the average green bellman.

  “If you don’t mind going to the basement without me, you can see through the metal cages in front of each of the shafts. You may even be able to reach through. In the meantime, I’ll call our maintenance man. He went home an hour ago, but lives near by. I’ll ask him to meet you there.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Renny said.

  “You’ll have to use the service elevator,” he said, crossing the lobby.

  They followed and watched Laramie lean into the scarred elevator, drawing a card from a retractable cord off his belt as he did. He pressed the floor button.

  “Thank you, Mr. Laramie.” Renny smiled her I’m-a-cute-female-and-you’re-my-hero smile.

  Laramie smiled his it’s-my-job-to-please-spoiled-guests-especially-when-they-tip-well smile and bowed his graying head.

  The doors shut and they descended.

  The service elevator smelled vaguely of stale food. Where the guest elevators had gold-framed menus mounted between etched mirrors, this one had unframed posters taped to the walls with phony-sounding motivational statements like “Customer service is about WHAT is right, not WHO is right” and “There is no ‘I’ in T.E.A.M.”

  Renny drummed her fingers against her thigh as she watched for the B for Basement to light up.

  Irritated, and determined to get her to admit it was him she wanted and not Jacob, Con said, “You’re going above and beyond for this ring, don’t you think?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t really want the domesticity package.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? Marriage is important to me.”

  “Cookie, you’re a risk junkie. If you wanted Jacob, you never would have left Greenbowl and never would have got this far into hustling Felix.”

  “I want to do the right thing.”

  “Bullshit. You want to have fun. I’m on to you. You don’t want conventional and respectable. You want me.” He was pretty sure. If she’d just admit it . . . .

  She squared off with him, arms folded, chin lifted. “I want to quit feeling like a lousy human being.”

  “Here’s news, sweetheart. Marrying a man because marriage is important to you is pretty lousy.”

  The elevator halted. She pivoted out of it, leaving a silence that could have curdled milk.

  He’d handled that well. Goddamned love. Exactly as he’d known it would, it had screwed up his ability to thin
k logically. Desperation was making him push her away when he should be pulling her closer.

  “Okay, that was a cheap shot,” he said to her back, using his natural stride to catch up to her, then shortening it to match hers.

  “I’m well aware you can’t resist an opportunity to score.” Her icy tone should have tripped out the boiler next to them.

  The huge cylinder was as long as the concrete walkway next to it. It burped and hissed, sending hot water through the pipes snaking off it. Big red letters painted on it read, “Authorized Personnel Only.”

  Con paced down the ramp alongside her, aware of the gentle bounce of her breasts, the lift of her hair, the hint of her scent beneath the thick, dry heat of the basement. She was so outstandingly beautiful—was finally where she belonged again, with him—and he couldn’t stand that she was fixated on that stupid, frigging ring.

  Okay, attacking wasn’t working. Maybe it was time to make a concession. “Felix knew I’d been to his apartment because I’d met some friends of his there.”

  “Who?”

  “A couple of criminals. They were real anxious to appear above the law. And real, real anxious to find Felix. They must have told him I’d been there.”

  “And why were you there?”

  “So the big one could wrinkle my shirt. What do you think?” Gran was the only person he’d ever loved and they weren’t mushy about it. The words didn’t come easily.

  “Seriously?” She halted to look at his shirtfront, brushed her hands down it.

  That was better. Touching was definitely better.

  “Did they hurt you?” she asked.

  He wanted to kiss the crinkle of concern between her brows. He played it cool, dismissed her concern with a shrug. “Tried to scare me. It didn’t work.” Much.

  “Felix did the same thing to me at the health mine,” she said with an exasperated shake of her head and made to keep walking.

  He grabbed her arm to halt her. “What?”

  “What what?”

  “What the hell happened at the health mine, Renny?”

  “Not much. It was when I first got there. Felix kind of stalked me in the cave. It was a creepy place. Once we connected, he was fine.”