by Jo Leigh
“There’s more at stake than Piper’s pride.”
“I think you’re wrong. On all sorts of levels. She earned this, Trace. You have no idea.”
“Look, I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s the way it is.”
The drinks were on the bar and Lisa got hers. “It’s the way it was. You and Nicholas are living in the past. I can understand her father, but frankly, you confuse the hell out of me.”
He got his own drink, then turned his attention to Piper.
It was like watching a silent movie, something glamorous and entrancing. Piper’s body language was perfect. The way she mirrored the reporter, her occasional touches creating a connection, her gaze on his. He knew how the guy was feeling. Snookered, completely, wanting nothing more than to be in her presence, special because he was the focus of all that energy.
Piper had a gift, and he wanted so much for her to put it to good use. Although he couldn’t hear the conversation, he knew without a doubt that it centered on sex. Not simply Hush, but Piper’s sexuality. As quality hotels were her father’s trademark, sexuality was Piper’s, and after her display of business acumen this afternoon, Trace was acutely aware that it didn’t do her justice.
If only he could help her see that. To take herself seriously. But listening to her flirting laughter, he knew it wasn’t the job of a few days, or even weeks.
She was so firmly rooted in her own image, she couldn’t shift her perspective. And if she didn’t, she was going to lose so much.
He wondered if this would be the final split between Piper and Nicholas. They’d never forgive each other, which was a damn shame. The only winner would be Kyle, and although he liked the kid, he wasn’t the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Devon Industries would suffer. Nicholas knew that, which is why he’d brought out the big guns.
Lisa sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“She does it so effortlessly. They just melt. She turns them into mush at the first laugh.”
“It’s what’s she’s been trained to do.”
“She may have perfected the technique, but she was like this even as a kid. I know, I watched.”
“You two have been friends for a long time.”
“Forever.”
He wondered at the sadness he heard behind the word. “It must have been difficult.”
“Not really. I don’t mind the shade.”
Trace studied the woman who he’d never paid much attention to. She wasn’t directly involved with Devon, so he’d only met her at the occasional party. She was attractive. Beautiful, really. Why hadn’t he noticed that before? Dark hair, nice eyes and a lush mouth. She was a little on the skinny side, but then that’s what all the women wanted, wasn’t it? She’d grown up in Piper’s shadow, and even after all these years, she was working for her friend. “Why’d you sign up?” he asked.
“I know hotels. I grew up in them, too.”
“I know. But why here? Why with Piper?”
“She’s my closest friend.”
“You didn’t want to find out what it would be like outside?”
“Not really. It’s what I’m used to.”
“Okay.”
“What about you?”
He looked at her.
“You went into the family business. Didn’t Piper tell me that you’d wanted to do something else? Family law?”
“That was years ago.”
“No regrets?”
His gaze moved to Piper, who was listening to the reporter with her head slightly tilted to the side. She had on a white silky dress, something that hugged her curves and made her look otherworldly. He wanted her. So much it hurt. But, like her friend, his lot in life was to be the man in the background, the one who stepped in after, who cleaned up the messes. He might have Piper’s attention this week, but only because she needed him. The moment the drama was over, he’d be back to a bit player. “Sometimes,” he said.
“I see,” Lisa said.
“What?”
She patted his hand. “It’ll pass. The effect seems to be localized.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“She has this effect on all men. Well, all straight men. No, I’ve actually seen it work on gay men, too. But when you’re away for a while, it won’t be so bad.”
“Lisa, you’re nuts.”
“I may be. But I’ve also been around long enough to recognize The Piper Effect, and honey, you’ve got it bad.”
Though he didn’t want to admit it, she was right. He also noticed Lisa was staring hard at the reporter, and she had been for a while. “You know that guy?”
“Nope. Just met him today.”
Trace took another drink, welcoming the spread of warmth as it slid down his throat. It occurred to him that it would be hard for Lisa to get any male attention while she was around Piper. And since she was around Piper all the time…
“Well, I have some work to do,” she said, standing up. She straightened her jacket, grabbed her purse from the bar. “Tell Piper I’ll see her in the morning.”
“Sure you don’t want to stay till the end of the interview? Maybe talk to Jace there. I’ll bet he’d love to hear your thoughts on the hotel.”
“Yeah, right. I’ll see you, Trace.”
He nodded. Watched her walk across the room. There was something going on there, but he wasn’t sure what. Of course she was a woman and they were notoriously mysterious, especially the one who so perplexed him, sitting across the room, her legs crossed and her skirt up high enough to make a man salivate.
He’d managed to keep his mind on business most of the day. At odd times, though, once in the middle of a sentence, memories of her in bed would invade. Memories of Piper naked, the sounds she made, the way her neck arched, the taste of her inner thigh.
He’d blushed, even while he felt like a teenager for doing so. But he’d never been in this situation before, where sex and business were all wrapped up in one frustrating package. He’d worked for his father’s law firm since college, and it had never come up. He’d never even been tempted to dip into the staff pool. Jesus, what was he doing? First law of business was don’t think with your dick. Okay, second law. First law was know your opponent. Only in this case he wasn’t quite sure who the opponent was.
Did he really want Piper to fail? No, absolutely not. But was changing her plan failing? Only in her eyes.
He looked at her, and for the first time since he’d come into the bar, she looked back. He wasn’t sure if Jace was talking or not, but Piper’s gaze connected with his for a startling second, and he caught this tiny little smile, barely more than a hint, and damn if he didn’t feel his chest expand. It was as if he’d put something over on the Vanity Fair guy, that she’d slipped him a secret meant only for him.
He was turning into a woman, for God’s sake. Finishing off his vodka, he stood up, not willing to sit by like some groupie for one more minute. If Piper wanted to get together with him later, she had his cell. He needed to go to his own place and pick up some things.
He also needed to get his mind out of bed and back on business. Nothing was settled, not a damn thing.
LISA WENT BACK to her office. She had a lot to do tonight, and she wanted to go down to the final dress rehearsal at Exhibit A.
Eddie Benjamin had been working his tail off, choreographing the dancing and putting together the music and light show for the basement bar.
It was a unique concept, at least for Manhattan. A lounge with a great deal of privacy for the clientele, designed for couples, adults only. The music was sophisticated, the atmosphere rich with scent and exotic lights, including lasers and black lights and a bunch of other high-tech gizmos. But the main eye candy would be on the stage. The most gorgeous men and women she’d ever seen, professional dancers, dressed in almost nothing, and dances as close to sex as one could get and still be dressed.
Which begged the question, why on earth was she so anxious to see it? She had
no one in her life, and there wasn’t going to be anyone in her life ever, so why bother? It would only end up getting her all hot and bothered and then what? Another evening with B.O.B.? The rate she was going, she’d need to buy batteries by the case.
Dammit, she’d liked Jace.
She leaned back in her chair and stared at the stack of applications waiting for her approval. It’s not as if she didn’t like her job. She loved hiring and employee motivation and everything that went along with keeping a hotel running smoothly. The job wasn’t the issue. It was her. At least in college, she’d had a chance with guys. Until they found out who her best friend was. Until they met Piper. Then she might as well have been a potted plant for all they cared.
Who could blame them? Piper was everything, and she’d yet to meet a woman who could compete. And honestly, Lisa didn’t mind. Except sometimes.
She’d sat in that bar and watched two men turn into slavish pups just watching Piper. She wondered if Trace knew just how bad he had it for his client. Despite his earnest declarations about Nicholas Devon and how right he was, Trace was going to come around. There was no doubt in Lisa’s mind at all.
But he’d go kicking and screaming, which was good, because Piper needed someone who wouldn’t just fold.
At least she was through with Logan. Lisa shuddered. What an ass he was. But Piper didn’t care. He was easy, and he deflected some of the glare.
But she’d be much better off with Trace. If she didn’t blow it. Which she probably would, because despite Piper being one of the most wonderful humans ever, she was terminally stupid when it came to men.
Lisa opened the first file. As if she could talk. Oh, well. Being alone wasn’t fatal. She’d get through it, just like always.
PIPER MADE IT to the suite before her smile collapsed. God, the interview had dragged on forever, but she thought it had gone pretty well. Who cared? It was publicity, and she had no control over the press. None whatsoever. She had no control over a hell of a lot of things.
She wished she hadn’t been so distracted, though. It had been fine during the meetings. Trace had been at her side, working with her toward the best possible resolution, and would wonders never cease, he’d actually treated her with respect and, dare she think it, admiration.
Yep, that’s what it was. She’d seen it in his expression and in the way he deferred to her. Wow, that had been something.
It wasn’t that she was completely unused to being treated that way. Everyone who worked at the hotel or had had direct dealings with her eventually got that she wasn’t an airhead, and she wasn’t drunk. Not even when the meetings took place at parties where the champagne flowed. One thing she could do was hold her liquor. What the press didn’t know, in fact what no one knew, was that Piper had a system. She knew exactly how much she could drink before it impaired her judgment, and she never went there. Hadn’t for years. She grinned. She wasn’t a drunk, she just played one on TV.
It served her purpose. That’s all that mattered.
But she didn’t want to think about interviews or parties right now. She wanted a shower, a long one, and then it would be dinner and Exhibit A. She’d better make plans with Trace.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she let her hand trail over the silken bedspread. Her phone was in her purse, and her purse was right there, but her thoughts had crawled between the sheets, right back to last night.
It had been…memorable. Incredible, actually, and the more incredible it became, the scarier it got.
He still hadn’t budged. Not about Hush. But maybe today had given him a little push. Wouldn’t it be ironic if it turned out that he sided with her because of her business smarts instead of her body?
Wouldn’t happen. Couldn’t. But the whole bedroom thing still had a shot. Her only shot.
She grabbed the phone and called his cell. Left a message for him to call in half an hour. Then she headed for the shower to plan tonight’s seduction.
12
HE USED THE KEY Piper had given him. “Piper?”
No answer. He walked through the living room, his duffel bag in tow, to the bedroom. Her dress, a bra and a slip of material that were her panties, lay on the bed, but no Piper.
He put his bag down and went to the bathroom. Knocking loudly, he entered to find her sitting at the vanity. She’d wrapped herself in a Turkish towel, and her hair was wet. He stood where he was, basking in the view. Without makeup, sans any of her usual trappings, she was stunning.
She looked at his reflection in the mirror. Her brow rose when she saw that he was wearing jeans. “You didn’t call.”
“Did I screw up some plans?”
She shook her head. “I thought we’d eat, then go to Exhibit A.”
“Great. I have somewhere I want to take you.”
She nodded. “Give me a few minutes.”
“Okay,” he said as he crossed the room. “Can I watch?”
She seemed taken aback by his request. “Sure.”
“Great.” He pulled out a little stuffed stool from beneath the far side of the vanity. “Tell me about the interview.”
She picked up a jar and unscrewed the lid. Taking a dollop of the cream, she applied it to her face, moving her fingers in slow circles. “Nothing much to say except it’ll be fabulous for the hotel.”
“I suppose he wanted to know about the sex angle?”
She turned to him with a frown. “Yeah, Trace. Tomorrow we’re going to shoot a spread of me using all the toys from the armoire. We’ll make a video and give it to the first twenty guests.”
“I thought that was reserved for your interview with Hustler.”
“Did anyone tell you you’ve got a one-track mind?”
“Seeing you in that towel isn’t helping.”
With a flick of her wrist she undid the knot at the top of the towel and let the whole thing drop. “Is that better?”
He didn’t answer her. He was too busy staring at her body. It disarmed him to see her like that. Sitting so casually, with her makeup spread like a banquet. As if he was privy to a secret ritual.
She laughed, turned back to the mirror and picked up another potion.
He, of course, could pound nails with his dick. Which wasn’t part of the plan. Of course they could skip dinner and he could ravish her right here against the shower door, but no, he had plans.
Clearing his throat, he stood up and went for the door, adjusting his jeans as he did so.
Which reminded him. “I’ll meet you at the bar,” he said. “Dress casually.”
“How casually?”
“Remember those torn jeans you told me about?”
She didn’t respond, and he didn’t dare wait. He hoped that by the time he hit the lobby, his predicament wouldn’t be quite so obvious. Or so uncomfortable.
As soon as Trace left, Piper wrapped the towel around herself. It had felt weird being so naked in front of him, and she chastised herself for her foolishness. It was just that kind of stunt that had made the press paint her the slut. While she’d been mortified by the label in her early years, by now it had become her way of flipping the bird at the world.
They were going to think whatever they wanted, and it wouldn’t have mattered if she were the most discreet woman on earth, she’d been branded. She’d stopped fighting by the age of nineteen, and just lived her life the way she wanted to.
And while it had been fun to see Trace’s reaction, she now wished she hadn’t. She wasn’t even sure why. Just…
Maybe because it had been so exciting to work with him today. He was so bright, and they’d worked together as if they’d been a team forever. It was the most fun she’d had in a long, long time.
Out of bed, that is.
In bed, being with Trace was just as thrilling. He read her there just as he read her in the boardroom. Why was that?
They were so very different. He couldn’t even see the one thing that was most important to her. And yet…
She concentrated on her
face, putting on her makeup carefully, as she always did, and wondered what he wanted to do that required torn jeans.
ESCHEWING THE LIMO Piper had on call, Trace hailed a cab on Madison and told the driver to head over to Central Park. It was almost six-thirty when they arrived. A glorious April evening, the park was teeming with skaters and joggers and folks walking their dogs.
Piper adored the park, had grown up here. She’d spent her childhood at the model boat pond, taking gondola rides, watching the polar bears at the zoo. She knew the park, all the secret spots and the hidden nooks. And right now, Trace was taking her to one area she rarely frequented.
“I don’t know how to skate,” she said, as they reached the rental booth.
“I’ll teach you.”
She wasn’t sure about this, although she had to admit it looked like fun. There was the regular path, where those out for a casual ride could take it slow and easy. Then there was the lane for the speed skaters, which she wouldn’t be going near. And then there was the dancer’s arena, where talented people did amazing things without falling on their asses.
“What’s your shoe size?”
“Eight,” she said, then tried to decide if she should be insulted or pleased when he ordered knee pads, shoulder pads and a helmet.
When he handed her the gear, she looked at the black helmet dubiously. “How worried should I be about where this has been?”
He turned back to the craggy man behind the booth. “How often do you clean those?”
He pointed to a sign. It declared that all helmets and skates were steam-cleaned after each use.
“Okay then,” she said, and followed him to a bench.
He had his own skates, which were tons cooler than hers, and his own pads and helmet. When he stood, all decked out, she whistled. And she wasn’t kidding. “You look hot.”
He laughed. “I look like an overgrown geek.”
“But in a sexy way.”
He continued to grin. “Make sure the skates are tight. You don’t want wobbly ankles.”
“That’s for sure.”
He checked them, then helped her position her pads. She’d worn her jeans, as requested, and one of her favorite shirts. It wasn’t much more than a couple of scarves sewn together, but the scarves were Hermés and the print was fabulous, and basically, it made her feel pretty. Of course she’d never accessorized with padding.