by Jo Leigh
Although, as he watched, as his body thrummed with an unfamiliar cadence, he wanted to do just what Piper had asked of him. Let go. Stop thinking. Just feel.
Slowly, he turned to look at her. The lights danced across her face, turning her blond hair blue for just a moment, then back to pale. Her lips glistened and her eyes seemed dark and mysterious.
“Do you feel that?” she asked.
He nodded.
She touched his arm and he felt an almost electric shock at the contact. “That’s Hush, Trace. Right here, right now. You’re in it. And it’s not wicked. It’s human. It’s real.”
He shook his head, trying to move his hand, to get some distance. Instead he found himself leaning toward her, wanting to taste her.
The cocktail waitress saved him. She came by with their drinks, then handed him a small card. He had to laugh when he read it. It said Do Not Disturb. “What’s this?”
Piper sipped her drink. “It lets the waitresses know that refills aren’t necessary. That the couple at the table want privacy.”
“So they can what?”
“Participate.”
“What does that mean?”
“No one can see what’s going on beneath the tables, Trace. It’s private. It’s for couples. For lovers.”
“Unlimited groping? Blow jobs? What?”
Her lips came together in a hard line. “What did you want to talk about?”
He looked away, cursed under his breath. Then he took a drink. After a few seconds, he was ready to face her again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to go there.”
“You never leave there.”
“Fine, I’m a shit for wanting to help you. I’m a creep for wanting to smash that guy’s face in. And I must be the worst piece of crap ever for thinking you’re more than just sex.”
Her expression shifted, although in the damn blue light he couldn’t read her. “First of all, I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. I don’t need your help.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I don’t. I’ve managed all this time without you taking my bullets.”
“That’s not what you said the other night. Or wasn’t that you telling me that I could have you if only I’d—”
“That was supposed to be quid pro quo. You actually work with me, without prejudice, and I…”
“You what?”
“Never mind. It was a stupid idea, and it’s over now, so let’s just forget it.”
“What do you mean it’s over? You still have three days left, or is your pride actually worth half-a-billion dollars?”
She leaned closer to him, and now he could read her like a book. Her anger came off her in waves, and if she could have killed him with a look alone, he’d have been dust. “What. Do. You. Want?”
“You don’t believe me when I tell you. But I’ll say it again. I want to make this work. I want you to win. I want you and your father to make nice. I don’t see how I can be any clearer.”
“And the only way you can possibly conceive of this outcome is if I abandon my beliefs? If I toss the whole concept of Hush and become a carbon copy of Daddy?”
“Wait, did I miss the meeting where you came up with a compromise?”
“Dammit, Trace, you come at me like I’m spitting on the family name, and I’m supposed to be thrilled? God, I wish you’d come into the bar five minutes earlier.”
“I heard them.”
“And what they said meant nothing to you?”
He leaned back, wishing they could leave this music, this pulsing beat that kept intruding on his anger. He kept seeing the dancers in his peripheral vision, and every time, he reacted. It was ridiculous. “I never said you had to abandon everything.”
“Oh? What would you have me omit?”
“The PR campaign, for starters.”
“Excuse me?”
“Piper, you’re in bed. Naked. Looking like you’ve just been—”
“I know what the ads look like, Trace. I’m in them. And I’m not naked.”
“But it’s you. Why? Couldn’t you have hired a damn model?”
“I’m famous, Trace, and you know what I’m famous for? Nothing. I’ve done nothing all my life, and I’m the fourth-most-photographed person in the world. There isn’t a soul in America, hell, most of the world that doesn’t already see me as naked whether I’m dressed or not. The images are there. Always. Hundreds of them, thousands of them, and finally, I’m using them for something besides lining my cat litter.”
“Piper, they didn’t manipulate those photographs.”
She exhaled, then closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she was trembling. “No, they were all me. Every one of them. You’re right. I’m exactly what the tabloids say. I’m a ditzy, drunken slut of an heiress who does nothing but screw, party and shop.”
“I’m not saying they didn’t distort things.”
“Distort things? The press? How could you even think that?”
“All right, so you’ve had more than your share of intrusions in your life. It’s not as if you’ve tried to change your image.”
She smiled at him, and it was as cold as the ice in his vodka. “I think I’ve seen enough to know that Exhibit A is going to be a smashing success. People will line up for blocks. I wouldn’t change a thing.” She gathered her small purse and stood up.
“Don’t go. This isn’t over.”
She turned to leave, but he caught her wrist. He rose up next to her, close. “I meant to tell you how impressed I was with you this afternoon. You handled the negotiations like a pro.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“We don’t see things the same way, but that doesn’t mean I’m inflexible.”
She spun on him, getting right up into his face. “You’re the most inflexible man I’ve ever met. You’re worse than my father, because at least, if there’s enough money involved, he’ll bend. It’s all a matter of perspective, Trace. We’re both watching the same dancers, and where I see beauty and art and sensuality, you see naked tits. You’re the one with your mind in the gutter, Winslow. If you think Hush is sleazy, it’s because you’re bringing sleazy to the party.”
She shook her hand free, and walked away. His gaze moved down her body, down the tight dress and the long legs and the sway of her hips.
“Shit.” He thought about going after her, but finishing his drink was far more appealing given his state of mind, and hers. His gaze went to the dancers once again. And as the smoke swirled and the beat pulsed in his veins, he thought about what she’d said.
14
MEMORANDUM
To: Staff
From: Janice Foster, General Manager, HUSH Hotel
Date: Thursday
Re: Housekeeping Staff Tutorial
All housekeeping staff please report to conference room A at 9:30 a.m. to go over the guest preferences computer system.
To: Clarissa
Please make sure to put several bouquets in Ms. Devon’s suite and office. TREAD SOFTLY!
To: Eddie
Congratulations on Exhibit A! Saturday night, here we come!!!
To: All Staff
Final reports on state of the hotel due tomorrow at 6:00 p.m. NO EXCEPTIONS.
EARTHA KITTY was in heaven. The cat stood quite still for a second, then her whole sleek little body shivered before she skittered off to explore this new territory.
Piper smiled as she watched the black fur ball slinking and stalking and sniffing her way down the first aisle of the rooftop garden. At least something was good. Actually, the garden was good, too, and one of her favorite places in the city. All due to the loving tender care of Clarissa Armstrong, who was one of her favorite people, so it all made sense in a holistic sort of way.
Clarissa, who was in her seventies, lived for this garden. Rows and rows of gorgeous flowers, organic vegetables and hidden secrets. There were columns and railings and pergolas, each of them containing something magical. A plaster frog here, a whirligig there,
ideal places to sit, to listen, to smell the orgasmic scents. And there were fountains, too, beautiful little trickling whimsies that soothed the savage beast. And her beast needed soothing today.
She thought about sitting on the bower swing, but chose instead a lovely little stone bench where she could keep an eye on Eartha. Twenty minutes. That’s all she had to savor this idle pursuit. To stop and quite literally smell the flowers. No thoughts of work, of Trace, of Nicholas, of unions of anything but sunshine and sweetness were going to intrude. She’d spent the whole night tossing and turning, not sleeping, hating life, hating Trace, hating most everything, and she needed a break.
Eartha pounced on something. Piper wished she’d brought her video camera because it was just so damn cute. Water trickled softly nearby as she watched the grand battle: Eartha versus broken petal. The petal didn’t stand a chance.
“Well, hello.”
Piper turned at Clarissa’s voice. “Morning.”
“It’s nice to see you. It’s been too long.”
Clarissa looked wonderful, as always. Her hair looked youthful even though it was a perfect white, maybe because of the curls. Like Shirley Temple only not dorky. Today she had on green slacks and a white blouse. She looked like spring. “It has been too long. The garden is fabulous.”
“It is. But come Saturday, people will come. People who leave empty cups and step off the path.”
“We’ll have surveillance cameras mounted immediately, and all litterbugs will be shot.”
“I appreciate the gesture. Now would you like to continue to commune with the cat, or would you like to talk?”
“Talk would be good.”
Clarissa sat, folding one long leg over the other. “Pardon the observation, but you don’t look very happy. Is the hotel not ready?”
“It’ll be ready. Not completely, because that would be a miracle, but close. Enough to open.”
“Ah, so if it’s not the hotel…?”
“Would you like Hush if it was, say, a different kind of hotel?”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“What if it wasn’t the sexiest hotel to ever exist in Manhattan? If it was a Devon hotel. You’ve stayed at a Devon hotel, right?”
The older woman nodded. “I have. I’ve stayed at the Orpheus and at several of the smaller hotels. One in San Francisco and one in Hawaii.”
“So?”
“I’m still not entirely sure what you’re asking me.”
“Okay.” Piper took in some more of the glorious air. “What if Exhibit A was just a regular bar? With no dancers at all. And if the rooms didn’t have naughty videos or toys or the Kama Sutra in the drawers? What if the ads on all the billboards and in the magazines had pictures of the lobby or, I don’t know, the pool and spa? If it wasn’t Hush, would you still like it here? Would you think it was special?”
Clarissa didn’t answer for a long time. Long enough for Piper’s thoughts to spiral down and down.
“Although it wouldn’t exactly be Hush,” she said, finally, “it would still be a wondrous hotel. The guests would still come.”
“What guests?”
“All kinds.”
“Why?”
“Piper, the hotel is elegant and comfortable and absolutely stunning.” Clarissa reached over and touched Piper’s hand. “And they would still make love, they’d still find romance.” She spread her arms to encompass the rooftop. “Who could resist cupid’s arrow in a garden this lovely? The sheets will still be sinfully soft, and the bathtubs will still hold couples. I don’t think you could stop people from understanding the true heart of Hush if you tried. Not even if you called it Devon’s Bastard Hotel and Inn.”
Piper smiled. Her head wanted to deny Clarissa’s words, but she couldn’t. It wasn’t as if what Clarissa had said was bad. She had built the hotel for love, and not just because of the toys. Every design feature was made to evoke emotion, to free the inhibitions. But dammit, she didn’t want to take away the toys. The toys were cool and fun and she’d put a lot of thought and care into picking them out.
“I must attend to my roots,” Clarissa said. “But please come visit more often. The garden is so much more alive when you’re here.”
“Thank you.”
“Nonsense.” The older woman stood. “Don’t forget kitty.”
Piper didn’t actually see the cat, and so she went in search. She found her on her back, batting a morning glory. Piper lifted her into her arms and scratched the black tummy as she walked slowly toward the elevator.
“ANGELA, I’M GLAD you’re in so early. I need some things.” Trace finished wiping the shaving cream off his chin, then headed for the bedroom, his cell phone still up to his ear. “All the files on market research. Everything.”
“It’s a lot of files.”
“I know. But I’d appreciate seeing it all.”
“No problem.”
“Thanks. I’ll be in my room.” He hung up, then dialed room service, which, he was happy to say, was up to speed. He ordered eggs, wheat toast, orange juice and a large pot of coffee. Yeah, he had the small pot furnished by the hotel, but frankly, he didn’t want to bother. Once that was done, he opened the drapes halfway so the glare wouldn’t affect his computer screen, then he tackled his e-mail.
He didn’t give himself a minute. He’d done enough thinking. Now it was time for action.
Piper’s discourse last night hadn’t gone down well. He’d been awake until about three as he tried to put aside his prejudices and look at the hotel from her perspective.
He still wasn’t convinced that she was right, but he was determined to give her the benefit of the doubt. At least for the next couple of days, he would be open to all possibilities. Everything, including Piper’s approach to Hush, was entirely appropriate.
His cell rang, and he checked his watch. It was eight forty-five, and that could only mean one thing. “Hello, Nicholas.”
“I haven’t heard from you.”
“I have nothing new to report.”
“And why is that?”
“We’re working things out.”
“There’s a new billboard on Broadway. Piper looks like she’s inviting the Seventh Fleet into her bed.”
“I’m working on it.”
“I want the billboard replaced.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“You know full well that talking to Piper is futile.”
“It’s still her hotel.”
“Remind her again how much she stands to lose.”
Trace held back his sigh. This was his boss. His job. His only source of income. “Is there anything else?”
“There are naked dancers in the downstairs bar.”
“They’re not naked. Not completely.”
“Trace.”
“I was there, Nicholas. It was very tasteful.”
“It won’t sound tasteful in the papers. This has to stop. Have you read today’s Wall Street Journal?”
“Not yet.”
“Read page eight and tell me again how tasteful things are.”
“I’ll call you, Nicholas.”
The man hung up. Trace turned off his own phone and thrust the conversation out of his mind. He was not going to change his plans.
AT EIGHT-FIFTEEN, Piper was finally done. She’d spent the morning in the screening room, and it was everything she’d wanted it to be. It wasn’t large, just big enough for executives to see dailies, or have private viewings. Twenty of the most comfortable chairs on earth, bar service, room service, and even popcorn, the real fresh-popped kind.
After that, she’d met with Janice, and then she and Kit had spent several hours going over the opening night party, among other things. She’d grabbed some food in the employees’ cafeteria, had way too much coffee, and generally, aside from the few moments in the garden, it had been one hell of a tough day.
She got off the elevator and put the key card in the lock upside down. Twice. Finally, she walked inside and h
eard music.
She hadn’t left music on this morning. All of the guests had the option of having housekeeping turn on the stereo, but she hadn’t requested that. And there was a new floral arrangement on the coffee table, and what was that scent?
She knew this was her suite, at least until next Monday, so why was she hearing footsteps?
Trace.
She hadn’t seen him all day. At four, she’d called down to the front desk to see if he’d checked out. He hadn’t. But he hadn’t called her, either, and she’d assumed he’d taken her at her word last night and gone back to the Orpheus to tell Nicholas to change the will.
Now he was standing in her bedroom door.
“I’m tired, Trace. I’ve had a really long day, and all I want to do is take a bath and go to sleep. So if you want to argue with me, can you do it in your own room? I promise to argue back first thing tomorrow.”
“Piper,” he said, walking right for her. “Shut up.”
“Excuse me?”
He moved behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. As he urged her forward he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “No arguing. No witty comebacks. No talking whatsoever.”
“Trace.”
“Uh-uh. What did I just say?” He pushed her into her bedroom, and there was her big white fluffy Turkish robe on the bed. “Take off your clothes.”
“Trace—”
“If you don’t take off your clothes, I’ll take off your clothes, which isn’t a horrible idea except that it’s not on the agenda. So shut up and take off your clothes.”
“What the hell are you doing?” She turned to face him. “And why are you looking so smug?”
“All your questions will be answered the moment you’re naked.”
“I’ve had that seminar before, and no thanks.”
“Oh, ye of little faith.”
She laughed. “I’m supposed to trust you?”
“Yes, you are.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on the fact that it would drive you insane not to get to the bottom of this.”
“If I had even one ounce of energy, I’d hurt you.”