by Carsen Taite
Drew shrugged her off and faced her squarely. “Dad has cancer. Lung. Stage Three. It’s painful, it’s debilitating, and it’s fatal.” The light changed, and she drove through the intersection. “Kinda hard to manage a business when you’re dying.”
Greer was stunned. Clayton Lancer had been like a father to her. He was her only uncle, her mother’s brother. She couldn’t wrap her mind around the possibility of losing him. Greer was an only child. She figured she had not been a planned event in her parents’ lives. Professors Tom and Kim Davis were world-renowned archeologists. Their fame and the generous financial support they received were dependent on their availability to travel at a moment’s notice to the next promising dig or fund-raiser sponsored by a well-heeled patron. When she started high school, her parents had dropped Greer and her belongings at Clayton and Ellen’s place and taken off for Egypt on an extended dig. Greer could count on one hand the number of times she had seen them since. The Lancer ranch became her home, and Clayton and Ellen had assumed the job of raising her, a task she was sure had aged them both.
Greer always felt as though she was an afterthought to her parents. She found it ironic. No matter how abandoned she had felt as a child, she had selected for herself the same nomadic lifestyle. Well, here she was, back at the Lancer ranch, and she shrugged off a creeping feeling that she was not so unlike her parents. The number of times she’d been back since college probably didn’t add up to much more than her hand could hold. The comparison wasn’t flattering.
“But why sell the hotel? You can run it, can’t you?”
“Of course I can. In fact, I am running it. That was a condition of the sale.”
“Then why sell the place at all?”
“Cancer is expensive.”
Greer cringed. The weariness in Drew’s voice almost hid the accusation. The Lancers had never wanted for anything, but they weren’t wealthy, at least not wealthy the way Greer was. Not many were. Greer was a rock star in every sense of the word. She never gave a thought to the amount of money she had or spent. She had no concept of how much money she actually made. She only knew she had enough to do anything she wanted, have anything she wanted, and have plenty left over for Rick to pay the bills. She wanted to ask why no one had called her to tell her not only about Clayton’s illness, but that they needed money. She could probably buy a dozen Lancer Hotels and never notice a dip in her bank balance. Did her family really think she was so out of touch she wouldn’t care enough to do something about their troubles? Obviously Drew did, hence the cold shoulder since Greer arrived.
“Is there some reason no one let me know what’s going on?” Greer knew her tone carried more anger than she meant to convey.
“Is there some reason why we should assume our problems would be important to you?” Greer started to reply, but Drew held up a hand. “Don’t answer, it was a rhetorical question. Seriously, how long has it been since you did more than have your assistant send cards or flowers to recognize a birthday or other special occasion? Sometimes I wonder if you even gave the instructions yourself. Besides, there was nothing you could or can do.”
“I have money.” Even as she delivered the pronouncement, Greer knew it was hollow and Drew would misinterpret. Before Drew could say anything, Greer pushed on. “If money was what you needed, you know I have more than I can ever spend. I would have gladly given or loaned you whatever you need. All you had to do was ask.”
Drew sighed. It was as if she was tired of arguing. “Too late. The hotel’s gone. I’m on my way to meet the head of the takeover team. I hear she’s a real dragon lady.”
“But I thought you were managing the hotel?”
“I am, but it’s not our hotel anymore. It’s a ‘Steel Property,’ as I’ve been told by all the suits from corporate office over the past few days, and it ‘must rise to the level of their other boutique luxury hotels.’ I have to satisfy the dragon lady or they can exercise an option to replace me as the general manager and assign me to some flunky position.”
“Drew, I’m so sorry.” Greer placed her hand on Drew’s arm and squeezed. “Is there anything I can do?”
“You can keep a low profile. The last thing Mom and Dad need is for you to bring the press down on them, especially now.” Drew’s tone had gone from wistful, back to snappy.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll stay out of your hair.” Uttering the word “hair” triggered Greer’s memory. Her first order of business would be to do something about the god-awful wig on her head. She glanced in the mirror. She could hide her blue eyes behind shades, but the hairpiece would have to go in favor of something more permanent. She didn’t want to risk exposure by having the color done at a salon, so she would need to handle it herself. “Drop me near a drugstore.” She checked her wallet. She didn’t have any cash, only a Platinum American Express card bearing the name Greer Davis. She had no intention of using that calling card. “Oh, and can I borrow a pair of sunglasses and a twenty?”
Chapter Seven
The distance from the El Dorado to the Lancer Hotel was only a few hundred yards, but Ainsley purposely took a winding amble in order to assess the town square, which she was surprised to find empty. In Chicago or New York hordes of people would be bustling about on their way to work. But here, in the early morning hours in this mountain town, a bare handful of individuals wandered around, seemingly with no specific purpose. She clicked off the tourist spots she had memorized from the brochure in her room. She spotted the Palace of the Governors and finally saw some industry in the sleepy town. Native American men and women spread blankets and arranged handcrafted jewelry, dream catchers, and other works of art in preparation for the daily parade of tourists. Ainsley had a hard time believing tourists would travel to this small mountain town to purchase trinkets from a mismatched group of locals who didn’t even try to make an effort at showcasing their wares. Random blankets served as the only background to their work. Ainsley reflected on the shiny displays in the windows on the stores lining Michigan Avenue and thought this place couldn’t have been farther away. She recalled seeing a brochure in her room extolling the Indian Market that had taken place on this very plaza a few weeks ago. She tried to reconcile the sleepy square with the pictures she’d seen in the brochure depicting hundreds of stalls and thousands of tourists looking for deals on original works of art. Hard to imagine such bustling energy in this tiny town. Ainsley was so absorbed in watching the vendors prepare for the end-of-summer crowds that she didn’t notice the woman heading her way until they collided with a crash.
“Oh my gosh, I’m sorry.” Ainsley backed up, but her hand gripped the arm wrapped around hers as both women teetered on the edge of a fall. When she finally gained her balance, Ainsley realized the arm she was holding belonged to Tray Cardon. She had a fleeting thought that Tray must have hurt her head, because her free hand was patting her head furiously as if searching for open wounds. Even with the dark sunglasses, Ainsley would have recognized Tray anywhere. It wasn’t the raging red hair, which seemed to have some strange blond highlights poking out around the edges she hadn’t noticed before. No, it was the adorable scruffiness about her, a trait normally not high on Ainsley’s list of attractive qualities, but she found herself wanting to roll around on the floor, making mad passionate love, and then scoop Tray into her arms and cuddle her. In other words, act completely out of character. What is it about her?
Before she could process the thought, her voice acted on its own and she blurted out, “Would you like to get some coffee?”
Tray looked confused and stammered out some unintelligible syllables. Ainsley flashed on the memory of their last parting and quickly backtracked. She had no business going for coffee anyway. She was expected at the hotel. “Never mind. Obviously you have things to do and so do I.” She started walking away. “Have a good day.”
Ainsley only made it a few steps before she realized her hand had slid into Tray’s and Tray had a firm grip. “Wait!”
Ain
sley couldn’t get far with Tray in tow. She faced her captor, eyebrows raised.
“I have to take care of some things this morning, but I could meet you for lunch. If you’re free.”
Ainsley couldn’t quite read the expression on Tray’s face. It was a combination of dread and hope, but she decided to ignore the body language and rely on the words and the spark jumping off the simple touch of their clasped hands. Tray confused the hell out of her, but she was irresistibly drawn to her. She didn’t do lunch when she was on site at a transition. She would never finish the long list of tasks she had planned for the first day if she went to lunch. Her team would think she had lost her mind if she took off for a meal in the middle of the day.
“I’m free.” The words were out before practicality could stop them. And she was glad. So glad, she decided to keep talking. “I’m staying at the El Dorado. Why don’t you meet me there at noon?”
Tray hesitated for a second, then nodded. Ainsley, determined not to risk either of them changing their mind, said, “Great, I’ll see you then,” and she took off in what she hoped was the direction of her new hotel.
*
Greer shook her head as she watched the tightly tailored beauty walk through the plaza. She couldn’t believe she’d been in town for all of five minutes, and already she’d run into the person she least wanted to be near. She cursed Drew for dropping her off smack in the middle of downtown where all the tourists gathered. Frankly, she’d been lucky to get a ride from Drew at all, considering her grousing about being late to work. To top it all off, now she had a lunch date with the svelte Ainsley Faraday. Date? Is it really a date? Greer answered out loud. “It’s just lunch.” At her hotel. Greer’s wandering mind had to have the last word.
*
“Welcome to the Lancer Hotel.”
After last night’s dish session, Ainsley hadn’t expected to be greeted at the door, much less by a hot blonde who epitomized the beach blanket babes of her fantasies. She had to force herself to stop staring. It took a moment, but Ainsley finally recovered enough to introduce herself. “Happy to be here.” She didn’t try to conceal the sultry undertone. “Ainsley Faraday, pleased to meet you.”
The blonde gave Ainsley’s outstretched hand an icy stare before turning and walking in the opposite direction. Ainsley was so distracted by the abrupt nongreeting and the tight round ass, she almost missed the words the beautiful stranger tossed over her shoulder. “I’ll show you to your office.”
Paul was waiting in the office and made the introductions. “Ainsley Faraday, Drew Lancer.”
Oh, that explains the cold reception. Paul had filled Ainsley in on the back story the night before. Drew Lancer was the daughter of the former owners and the current manager of the hotel. She’d made it clear to the entire Steel team she opposed the sale of the hotel to a chain with every fiber of her being. Ainsley had encountered similar resistance before and was prepared to deal with unwillingness to change. She hadn’t been prepared, though, to be distracted by the drop-dead good looks of the angry party. She could almost feel Paul grinning behind her. They had worked together before, and he knew she had a weakness for stunning women. She shrugged. Paul also knew she never, ever let that particular weakness get in the way of her work ethic. She pushed away the nagging reminder that she had just made a lunch date on her first day at the new site.
Ainsley sucked in her breath and willed her business acumen to the forefront. “Ms. Lancer, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Your decision to stay on will prove invaluable to a smooth transition. We’re lucky to have you.” The words were pleasant and Ainsley didn’t mean most of them. It was a pleasure to meet such a beauty, but the pleasure was likely to be short-lived. Small-time property owners didn’t take kindly to the changes usually required to make their businesses become viable members of established, successful hotel lines. Ainsley imagined Drew Lancer would be no exception. She would probably fight the Steel team on every suggested change. She might as well plunge in and deal with Ms. Lancer’s anger. The sale of the hotel called for them to keep Drew on, but the specifics of her work were within Ainsley’s discretion. Drew would learn to deal with the new hierarchy, or she wouldn’t. The choice was hers, but no matter what, Ainsley was in charge now and she would do whatever it took to whip this property into shape.
She purposely turned away from Drew and addressed Paul to announce her first decision. “I’d like to go ahead and get started on the list we prepared last night. Why don’t you assemble whoever you think needs to be in on the meeting?” Paul left the room and Ainsley took a seat behind the large desk. Drew seemed unsure about whether she was supposed to stay or go, and Ainsley was pleased her directive had had the desired effect. She wanted the young Ms. Lancer to realize she was no longer in charge and to have a measure of uncertainty about her future. Comfort bred complacency, and Ainsley couldn’t afford the latter. She was interested to see if Drew would use this moment alone with her to suck up or tell her to go to hell.
“I know more about running this hotel than you ever will.”
Ah, the go-to-hell approach. Ainsley didn’t care, really. She knew things might go easier at first if the current management fully supported the takeover, but such support wasn’t the norm. She was prepared for a challenge. She wasn’t scared to tackle difficult projects, and she would rather get the hard parts out of the way. Drew was definitely going to be one of the hard parts.
*
The tall potted plant was a perfect screen. Greer felt well hidden from the activity in the lobby of the El Dorado, but she still had a perfect view of the entry. She hoped no one would choose that particular moment to water the plants. In her disheveled state, they would probably mistake her for a homeless person and escort her out the door. Then again, this was Santa Fe, the City Different. It would be perfectly normal for superstars like Julia Roberts or Val Kilmer to wander into the nice hotel dressed like they’d spent a day working on the ranch. She would simply be mistaken for an eccentric celebrity. Greer almost hit her head on the pillar behind her as she jerked away from the plant. The last thing she needed was to draw attention to herself by lurking in the greenery. She stood up straight, trying to act normal, as if she knew what normal was. Right now, normal was anything but. Normal would have included a limo driver holding open the door for her and her entourage, and swarms of bellmen vying for the chance to carry her bags while hotel guests hoped she would stop to sign autographs. Normal would have been the finest suite the hotel had to offer, with champagne on ice waiting for her arrival—courtesy of the manager. Normal would have been Greer setting the terms for this date, or whatever it was, and those terms would not have involved waiting behind a potted plant.
Greer mulled over the disadvantages of her current circumstance and decided she didn’t have to make things worse by having lunch with a stranger and pretending to be a normal person when she was a rock star. She patted the leaves of her plant shield back into place, firmly grasped the plastic bag containing her new hair color, and started toward the doors. She had enough cash left to grab a sandwich somewhere and take it to nearby Fort Marcy Park, where she could be herself, by herself.
She took two steps and smashed into Ainsley Faraday for the second time that day.
“Tray?” Ainsley rubbed her shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you behind the plant. Are you okay?”
Greer shut her eyes and willed herself far away. Was she destined to keep running, literally, into Ainsley? When she opened her eyes she quickly realized sheer will wasn’t strong enough to get her out of the situation. She would have to make some excuse and get the hell out. Greer opened her mouth to give some plausible explanation for her departure, but when she started to talk, she realized she had acquired a souvenir from this last run-in. “Ouch!”
“Oh my God, your lip is swelling. Did I hit you in the face?”
Greer looked pointedly at Ainsley’s shoulder and nodded. She would have to start watching where she was going. Here she was
, standing in the lobby of one of the most popular hotels in a popular tourist destination, with a fat lip and a blazing red wig that was probably off-kilter again. She had to start paying a lot more attention if she was going to stay in hiding until the press died down. Greer mumbled something she hoped sounded like she needed to go and started for the door. Ainsley’s hand held her in place.
“Wait.” Ainsley paused, took a deep breath, and then rushed out the rest of what she had to say. “Let me get you some ice. In my room. I mean, come with me to my room, and I’ll get you some ice for your lip. If you put something on it right away, the swelling will go down.”
Greer wavered. No telling how late Drew was going to work. No sense wandering around all day with a fat lip. She might as well kill some time until the swelling went down. She looked at the elegant, strong fingers on the hand holding hers and nodded. Ainsley led her to the elevator and punched the button for the Presidential Suite.
*
Ainsley was thankful a bucket of ice remained from breakfast. She feared if she left Tray in the room alone, she would probably bolt. Tray had looked ready to bolt from the moment Ainsley had started their first conversation during the flight from Chicago. I wonder if she’s from Chicago and, if so, why I haven’t seen her before. She looked vaguely familiar, but Ainsley was certain if she had seen her out in the Windy City, she wouldn’t have forgotten. Tray was definitely part chameleon. Something was different about her even today. As Tray carefully applied a washcloth full of ice cubes to her lower lip, Ainsley tried to figure it out. Finally, it hit her. “You’re wearing sunglasses!”
Tray flinched and reached a hand up to feel the frames, but she didn’t remove them. “Yes.” Long pause. “I’m very sensitive to light.”