by Jeanne Allan
“Why would a Steele need a rich bride?”
“Daddy Steele made a lot of bad investments.”
“But I recently read they plan to acquire a small, deluxe hotel near Central Park in New York City.”
“That’s now. I’m talking about nine or ten years ago. The only thing that kept the Steele hotels out of bankruptcy court was Daddy Steele turning the management reins over to Thomas. I didn’t pay much attention at the time. David’s marriage was more interesting.”
“You knew his wife?”
“Knew of, like everyone else in New York. It was the scandal of the society page. A Steele eloping with one of the housekeeping staff. I never saw David again, and I felt bad when I heard about the plane crash. All of us girls liked David. He was like our younger brother. We felt protective of him.”
“Protective of a Steele? You’ve got to be kidding. Did you feel protective of Thomas, too?”
“I never met Thomas until Jake and I started staying in Steele hotels. I get the feeling Thomas doesn’t have much use for parties. I thought Merrilu was going to faint when he called and said he was coming tonight.” Kristy gave Cheyenne a speculative look. “And bringing a guest.”
Over Kristy’s shoulder, Cheyenne saw Thomas and Jake approaching. “Thomas came because it’s a good cause, isn’t that right, Thomas?”
“According to your sister.” Thomas handed her a flute of champagne.
Jake laughed. “Allie got a hold of us and strong-armed us into—how did she put it, Steele? Increasing our generosity? I want to know how much she got out of Worth.”
“Let’s go ask him,” Kristy said. “I think he needs rescuing.”
“Worth?” Cheyenne swung around. Her brother stood listening politely as Stephanie Winston talked, her hand on his arm.
“Who’s he talking to?” Jake asked.
“I don’t know,” Kristy said, “but she’s had so many face-lifts, it’s a wonder her ears don’t meet in the back of her head.”
“Kristy, she’s a friend of Thomas’s,” Cheyenne said.
“Oops, sorry, Thomas. Too much champagne, I guess.” Her face pink, she buried her face in her glass.
“Champagne, my... Didn’t you tell her?” Jake asked.
“I haven’t had a chance yet, you big goon.” Kristy turned luminous eyes toward Cheyenne. “I told Jake if he told you first I’d kill him and then when I saw you, we got off on another subject.” Her eyes darted at Thomas. “Anyway—”she raised her glass “—this is sparkling water.” She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant.”
Cheyenne thrust her champagne at Thomas and threw her arms around her friend. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you.”
Kristy hugged her back and the conversation degenerated into excited babble. Eventually Kristy tugged Jake off in Worth’s direction.
Cheyenne retrieved her champagne and gave Thomas an apologetic smile. “It probably doesn’t seem like such a big deal to you, but Jake and Kristy come from large, close-knit families and they’ve been trying to have a baby for quite a while.”
“I’m not against babies. I just don’t want one. I don’t want kids. Any kids. I don’t want a wife. I don’t want a family.”
The words and the firm voice he’d said them in should have convinced her, but Cheyenne couldn’t help thinking he reminded her of a little boy whistling in the dark, pretending he wasn’t afraid. She studied his face. “What do you want, Thomas?”
“I want to kiss the sexiest woman in the room, the one in the watermelon pink dress.”
Swallowing too much champagne, Cheyenne choked. Thomas Steele wasn’t the kind of man who’d kiss a woman in a room full of people.
When she’d recovered, Thomas gave her a half smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to kiss you. It was my awkward way of telling you you look very nice tonight.”
She pinned a smile on her face. “Thank you.” Nice. He’d been teasing her about Kristy calling her sexy. A shared joke. She kept smiling. “You look very nice, too.” She didn’t add she wanted to kiss the sexiest man in the room.
If she had said it, she wouldn’t have been teasing.
CHAPTER SIX
THOMAS leaned his elbows on the deck’s wooden railing. As dark as the night sky was, the mountains surrounding the valley loomed blacker. Pinpoints of light, houses, climbed the hillsides. The lights of Aspen clustered at this end of the valley floor, and he picked out the St. Christopher Hotel, the Wheeler Opera House, the Jerome Hotel and a few other of the Victorian mining town’s landmarks.
He knew a little of the town’s history. In the late 1870s, miners from Leadville had come over Independence Pass searching for ore. They found silver and the town boomed. With the demonetizing of silver, the miners moved on. Ranchers and farmers settled the quiet valley. Then in the late thirties, skiers found Aspen.
Thomas could see the runs carved out on Aspen Mountain. Those long-ago miners and skiers would be amazed if they saw the town and surrounding area now. Tourists flocked to Aspen for the natural beauty and the skiing, for cultural and intellectual pursuits. To rub shoulders with the rich and the famous.
The rich and famous who stayed at hotels like The St. Christopher.
He’d suggested the area to his grandmother after he’d skied here with college friends, but his grandmother had no interest in hotels not located in major cities. Several years ago, he’d remembered Aspen and purchased the St. Christopher, spending too much to bring it up to Steele standards.
Thomas could take or leave the glittering party scene, but he never discounted its appeal to others. He’d sensed the money in Aspen, and research had supported his instincts. The success of the St. Christopher Hotel validated his investment.
Music from a jazz trio, bursts of laughter and snippets of conversation came through open windows. Old Aspen mingled with new. He’d spotted foreign dignitaries, a Saudi prince, a minor member of British nobility, two congressmen, and businessmen who occupied various rungs on the corporate ladder of wealth and power.
One of The St. Christopher Hotel’s bellmen moonlighted as a bartender. Another bellman strolled through the rooms as a guest. Since she’d come as Thomas’s guest, Cheyenne had given the young man her ticket so he could mingle with the Hollywood stars, two movie directors and a Broadway producer at the party.
Cheyenne had planned all along to attend the party.
Aspen’s small size had disrupted his plan. Cheyenne knew everybody. Movie stars, heads of conglomerates, and CEO’s were part of her life in Aspen. She played with them and worked with them through her tours.
A minor glitch in his plan.
To get her out of his head, he had to prove she didn’t belong, didn’t fit in his life.
He slowly straightened. His life wasn’t in Aspen. His life was in New York City.
Last night he and Davy had walked with Cheyenne and Allie and the two dogs to the sisters’ condo. Cheyenne had insisted on stopping for ice cream cones. This after she and Davy and the dogs had danced around and through the water fountains. He tried to transfer that picture to New York City. It didn’t fit.
She wouldn’t fit.
He’d invent a reason to take her to New York City. She wouldn’t belong, and he’d see, once and for all, how ridiculous a relationship between the two of them would be.
Not that he was considering a relationship. Sleeping with her, yes, but not a relationship. A trip to the city would cure him of this ridiculous physical attraction he felt for her.
He didn’t want to hurt her. Davy liked her. She was wrongheaded, but it wasn’t her fault Thomas wasn’t cut out to be Davy’s father.
She’d get an all-expenses paid trip to New York. And he’d be cured. Winners all around. She should be grateful. He could have seduced her into his bed. Made her promises he had no intention of keeping. Instead he was giving her a treat.
Cheyenne craned her neck to see the New York City skyline before they headed through the Lincoln Tunnel. “I can’t b
elieve I let you talk me into coming.”
When Thomas told her he had to make a flying trip back to New York because negotiations for the Park Avenue hotel had hit a snag, her first reaction had been disappointment. For no good reason. She wouldn’t miss him. Wouldn’t even know he was gone.
Then he’d asked her to come along, calling the trip a bonus for her rearranging her schedule to accommodate taking on Davy. Cheyenne considered his invitation for about two seconds before accepting. Not for the marketing opportunities through the Steele head offices as he’d suggested, but for the opportunity to snoop.
Worth had been opposed to her going, but since he tended to think his sisters were still kindergarten age, she’d paid no attention to him. Or to Allie who’d preached caution, as Allie always preached caution when it came to men. Greeley, ever practical, had asked when was the last time anyone successfully stopped Cheyenne once she’d set her mind to do something. Cheyenne’s mom said she trusted Thomas. Mary Lassiter planned to have a lot of fun with Davy, and she told Cheyenne to have a good time in New York.
The trip to New York wasn’t about a good time. She’d come for answers. Cheyenne wanted to know why Thomas refused to include Davy in his life. Not for the obvious reasons. Not once had Thomas said he didn’t believe in single parents; not once had he said Davy needed a mother; not once had he said his mother couldn’t bear to have someone else raise Davy. Davy’s few remarks about his grandmother indicated the woman didn’t give a hoot about her grandson.
After a rushed packing job, both for her and for Davy who was staying at the ranch, they’d left Aspen the next morning. A small commuter plane flew them to Denver where she and Thomas boarded a flight for Newark. A car and driver from the hotel met them at the airport.
Eager to snoop into Davy’s and Thomas’s background and circumstances, Cheyenne hadn’t delved deeply into Thomas’s motives for inviting her. Belated doubts crept in about the wisdom of coming. Why had Thomas really asked her? In appreciation as he’d said, or as a buffer against all the predatory women Kristy Norton had mentioned?
She considered and dismissed the possibility he’d brought her to seduce her. If Thomas Steele planned to seduce a woman, he’d make sure the woman knew. Thomas couldn’t have made it clearer he had no intentions of falling into bed with Cheyenne. Not that she wanted him to. It wasn’t as if his kiss had aroused any curiosity about making love with him.
“Relax. Johnny’s a good driver.”
Cheyenne turned to see Thomas watching her. Grateful he couldn’t read minds, she seized on the neutral topic. “I’m not used to being driven. Do you ever drive?”
“I have a car garaged near where I live. I drive it occasionally. Normally it’s more convenient to use a taxi or Johnny and the car.” He put his briefcase on his lap. “I want to refresh my memory on a few points before my meetings. If you’ll excuse me?”
Cheyenne dutifully turned her head toward the window as they exited the tunnel. She’d forgotten the noise. Taxis honked and sirens wailed. People moved along the sidewalks at breakneck speed. So different from Aspen Thomas said they’d go to the hotel from the airport and she could freshen up or rest or whatever. She planned on the whatever. As soon as Thomas left for his meetings.
“I hope to be free tomorrow afternoon so I can take you over to our main offices. How do you plan to spend the rest of your time?”
Cheyenne hoped he didn’t notice her guilty start. “This afternoon I might head over to Fifth Avenue. Tomorrow I’ll hit the art museums. The Met for sure, and maybe the Whitney, and the Museum of Modern Art.” She’d fit them in around her investigating. Investigating sounded better than snooping.
“Johnny can drive you.”
“Thanks, but I’ll walk. I love to look at the buildings.”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Not since college.”
The car pulled up in front of a tall, elegant gray stone building with an Art Deco facade, and soon Cheyenne stood in the middle of an exquisite gilt and marble lobby under the most opulent chandelier she’d ever seen. Before she could fully take in the intricate mosaic-tiled floor and stylized murals high on the walls, Thomas had whisked her into a birdcage elevator.
“I’ve arranged for my room to be prepared for you.”
“Where are you staying?”
If he heard the slight touch of panic in her voice, he ignored it. “At my place. I seldom use my room here.” He led her down a mahogany-paneled hall, through heavy double doors, stopping to unlock a single door. His look encompassed the impersonal room. “If you need anything, call the front desk.”
“I do need one thing. Where to find Pearl.”
“Pearl? What do you need with her?”
“Davy asked me to say hello to her and a few other people.”
Thomas shrugged. “Ask Edward, our head concierge. He’s worked here forever. Nothing goes on in this place Edward doesn’t know about. He’ll know where you can find Pearl.” He hesitated. “Don’t spend all your time delivering Davy’s messages.”
“I promised him. It won’t take me long.” She intended to grill every single person on Davy’s list about Davy’s life. And incidentally find out what she could about why Thomas had a phobia about caring. Not that he didn’t care for Davy. The silly man just refused to admit it.
“What’s the smirky little smile for?”
“Thinking about Fifth Avenue brings a smile to every woman’s face.”
Thomas ran his knuckles lightly down the side of her face and smiled. “Don’t spend all your money in one place.”
The warm highlights in his eyes did strange things to her insides. She wanted to press her face against his hand. She wanted to melt into his body. She did neither. Gathering her scattered wits, she said, “I won’t.”
Shutting the door behind him, Cheyenne leaned against it and closed her eyes. Physical attraction, she told herself as if it were a kind of mantra. Nothing but chemistry. Thomas Steele was not her type.
Forcing herself to breathe evenly, she reminded herself her purpose in coming to New York was not to daydream about Thomas. She’d come to snoop. For his own good. He and Davy belonged together. If Thomas couldn’t see that, then Cheyenne would show him.
After giving Thomas a few minutes’ head start, Cheyenne went down to the lobby.
A gray-haired gentleman with regal bearing stood at the concierge desk. Seeing Cheyenne walking in his direction, he gave her a warm smile. “Ms. Lassiter?”
His name tag told her she’d found Edward. “How did you know who I was?”
“Thomas stopped on his way out and asked me to give you a message. He’ll meet you in the dining room at seventhirty.”
“All right, but that doesn’t tell me how you picked me out.”
“Thomas said to look for a beautiful lady with bright, shining eyes.”
“Not the Thomas I know,” Cheyenne retorted.
Edward laughed. “I saw you come in with Thomas. Ever since Thomas called to say he was bringing a woman with him, we’ve all been anxious to see you.”
Cheyenne reddened. “It’s not like that. We’re business associates. He’s hired me to entertain Davy.” Edward gave her a look she had no trouble interpreting. If she was hired to entertain Davy, why was she in New York without him? “He hired my agency, I mean. Davy is with them.” The man nodded, as if willing to go along with a pretense. “He’s riding horses,” Cheyenne added desperately.
The man’s whole face lit up. “Davy’s riding horses? How ’bout that? He’s always wanted to ride in one of the horse-drawn carriages over by Rockefeller Center. Sammy—” Edward signaled a passing bellman “—Davy’s riding horses in Aspen.” He turned back to Cheyenne. “What else?”
She listed everything they’d done.
“Thomas went fishing?” Edward asked in shock. “We need to talk some more, Ms. Lassiter, but Thomas said you wanted to speak to Pearl. I caught her as she was leaving for the day and sent her up to Thomas�
��s room. You’ll be more private there”
Cheyenne wondered all the way up in the elevator why she needed to be private. Nothing about the matronly woman waiting at the door to Thomas’s room gave her the answer.
Inside the room, Pearl clasped her hands together and asked anxiously, “How’s Davy? How’s my baby doing? Is he happy out there in Colorado? I told him Thomas wasn’t a monster, but his grandmother put the fear in him, telling him if he didn’t behave, Thomas would shut him in his room. I knew he wouldn’t, but Davy, he’s got an imagination.” The woman stopped to breathe.
“Davy is fine. He’s having a great time, hiking, fishing, riding horses and—”
“Davy got to ride a horse? That’s fine. He’s always liked horses. He likes me reading stories about them to him.”
“You seem to know a lot about Davy.”
Pearl looked directly at Cheyenne. “I raised that baby. Me and the others.”
“The others?”
“People who work here at the hotel. Edward, some, although he’s a little old now for helping with a little one. To hear Edward tell it, he raised Thomas and his brother all by himself.”
“Pearl, Edward said you were on your way home, but I wonder, do you have time to talk?”
The maître d’ escorted Cheyenne through the dining room to the table where Thomas sat. “I’m sorry I’m late,” she said.
Thomas stood. “I was early.” His gaze swept over her. “You put your time to good use.”
Yes, she had. Not shopping as he meant. “Thank you.” The simple white dress had come from her suitcase, not Fifth Avenue.
A waiter silently materialized and poured her a glass of wine. Cheyenne glanced quickly through the gilt-edged menu and made her choices. Closing the menu, she gazed around the room taking in gleaming wood-paneled walls, gold-framed paintings, elegant chandeliers and a ceiling of red chinoiserie painting and elaborate wood molding. Luxurious chairs upholstered in red, green and gold stripes sat around tables clothed in snowy white. On the tables silver candlesticks held creamy candles topped with small crystal-beaded shades. Heavy lead crystal vases each held a single red rose. In an alcove across the room, a man in evening clothes played soft music on a black baby grand piano. Cheyenne turned to tell Thomas she liked the room.