by Cara Summers
He wanted to stay with her—to lift her onto the bed and make love to her slowly, thoroughly, until the candles burned out. Until the birds heralded the sun. The need to do just that became so urgent that he tightened his arms around her. The realization moved through him that he could have stayed right where he was and held her for a very long time.
A tight knot, a bitter taste filled the back of his throat. This was what had kept him sitting on the lounge chair on his balcony for nearly an hour. It wasn’t merely passion or desire that she was able to pull out of him. She made him want to hold on.
Carefully, he shifted her, slipping his arm beneath her legs as he rose to his knees. For tonight the decision was simple. He’d go with her agenda. Just one night. No hassles.
He settled her on the bed, then dealt with the clothes they’d strewn over the floor. Finally, he locked the balcony doors and blew out the candles.
At the door to the room he hesitated, glancing back to where she lay beneath the covers, her hair spread across the pillows. He nearly took a step toward her before he found the strength to turn and leave the room.
JILLIAN STRUGGLED UP through layers of sleep, battling each one of them. As a little girl, she’d pictured sleep in her mind as a spiderweb that trapped and held her during the night. Some people—namely her sisters—had always broken free instantaneously in the morning. She never had. It was always much more tempting to just burrow into the pillow and try to recapture the remnants of whatever she’d dreamed during the night because the day ahead wasn’t likely to be nearly as interesting.
Today, the temptation to burrow was particularly strong. But the details of her dream had already become elusive, and if she was already thinking of it as a dream and trying to remember it, she was at least partially awake. With an inward sigh, she opened one eye and noted that there was enough sun blasting through the sliding glass doors to have her wincing.
Coffee. She’d learned long ago that a shot of caffeine straight up was the only way to get her eyes all the way open and her mind functioning. With that goal firmly in mind, she levered herself up off the pillow, tossed back the covers…and discovered she was naked.
That was enough to widen her eyes and spark her foggy brain. She never slept in the nude. Her still blurry vision strayed to the foot of the bed. Her blue lace panties and bra lay neatly across it and her robe hung from the post.
The bedpost…where her stranger… The floodgates sprung open, and details of what he’d done, of what she’d done and they’d done poured into her mind. She felt as though she were watching a film on fast-forward. She wanted to press a button, slow the images down, relive them.
He had swept her away. It hadn’t been a dream. He’d scaled that balcony like some kind of modern-day Zorro. Just thinking about it had her heart skipping a beat. Everything had been real. And wild. And wonderful.
And he was gone. Something tightened enough around her heart to make her rub the heel of her hand against it. Of course he was gone. A stranger who swept you away in the night didn’t stay for the morning after. That wasn’t part of the fantasy.
And this one hadn’t hung around at all. Her last memory of him had been lying on the floor on top of him after they’d made love. He’d been cradling her head, and she’d only intended to close her eyes for a few seconds.
Turning, she scanned the bed. There wasn’t any evidence that he’d joined her there. She shifted her gaze to the bedside table. After he’d tucked her in, he’d blown out the candles, folded her clothes neatly and even hung up her robe. Then he’d left.
The same way he’d come? Her heart gave a little thud as she shifted her gaze to the balcony doors. The brightness of the sun had her blinking again. What time…?
A quick glance at her watch had her leaping to her feet and grabbing her robe. It was after eight, and Colonel Jenkins and his son were due to arrive at ten. She raced to the little kitchen, pressed a button on the one-cup coffeemaker and sent up a prayer of thanksgiving for whoever had invented the technology. Thirty seconds and she inhaled the fumes, two minutes more and she took her first sip.
She could almost hear her brain cells clicking on. While she swallowed more, she paced back and forth in the small space. What she needed was a little reality check. The hunky stranger had more than fulfilled her fantasy, and she wasn’t sorry about that. She couldn’t be sorry. Now it was back to the workaday world where fantasies didn’t exist, but hard work often paid off. And that’s what she had in front of her—a day in which she sold her talent to the Jenkins men. She’d done her research on them. They were astute businessmen, and she was going to have to be at the top of her game.
With her priorities straight, Jillian drained the rest of her coffee and walked back into the bedroom. Giving the bedpost a wide berth, she headed toward her closet. But she changed her course a good ten feet from her goal and opened the sliding glass doors instead.
Because, dammit, she could feel him. The awareness he triggered in her zipped along her nerve endings with the speed of a flash fire. She glanced first at the balcony below hers. Empty. Moving to the railing, she spotted him at a table in the courtyard below. And he was talking to a redhead. Her belated recognition of the woman as Tess Callahan, one of the waitstaff, wasn’t in time to prevent the slap of jealousy that struck her like a blow.
No. She pressed a hand to her stomach. It couldn’t be jealousy. This man was a stranger. She didn’t even know his name. They’d had what she’d intended to be a one-night stand, and he’d moved on. So would she. She’d had a lot of practice.
Then his eyes met hers. The look was so direct, so intimate that she felt as if he’d touched her.
She still wanted him. She had no idea how long she stood there, unable to look away, unable to gather a coherent thought before he glanced back to Tess, smiled and spoke to her.
Jealousy had a bitter and coppery flavor. Jillian narrowed her eyes on him. She’d told a few fibs now and then, but she didn’t make a habit of lying—especially to herself. She might not be as ready as he was to move on.
Then she glanced at her watch again. What to do about that little problem would have to stay on the back burner until she dealt with Colonel Jenkins and son.
IAN KNEW THE MOMENT THAT Jillian walked back into her room just as he’d sensed the moment she’d walked out onto her balcony. They had to run into one another at some point, and he’d figured better sooner than later. So he’d asked Tess Callahan to join him at a table in the courtyard while he interviewed her.
It had been a mistake to look at Jillian, but once he’d sensed her presence, he hadn’t been able to prevent himself. The fact that she was wearing the same blue robe she’d worn the night before had been enough to make his mind go temporarily blank. And he had no idea what he’d just said to Tess.
Whatever it was, it had evidently pleased her because she was beaming a smile at him. “I’d love some coffee. So nice of you to ask.” She lifted the pot she’d brought to the table and poured herself a cup. “Usually I’m the one asking that question.”
“I’m happy that you agreed to talk to me.”
“I’ve never talked to a real writer before,” Tess said. “Mr. Cooper said you’re doing research for a book on Haworth House.”
Ian smiled at her. According to the information Avery had given him, Tess was one of the most popular and industrious of the waitstaff. Working at Haworth House during the summer months helped offset her college tuition.
He’d spent a little time after he’d left Jillian’s room trying to plan the approach he’d take with Tess. She’d witnessed the guest who’d fallen down the staircase in the lobby. The trick would be to get her to volunteer that without asking a direct question.
“I’m looking for unusual events or stories about Haworth House today—since the Brightman sisters have opened it as a hotel. Things that will spark reader interest.”
“You must know about the ghost?” Tess asked.
“I do. Have you encou
ntered her?”
Tess shook her head. “And you must know about how that swindler Michael Davenport was arrested here?”
Ian nodded. “I do. Has anything happened since then?”
When Tess’s brow furrowed, he searched for something to say. His respect for his brother’s work as a field agent was already very high, but it was increasing with each passing second. “I can promise you I’ll hold everything in strictest confidence.”
“Well.” Tess leaned closer. “There’ve been two incidents that you might call out of the ordinary. First was the mushroom incident. If it hadn’t been for Jarrell, the chef, a lot of people might have gotten sick.”
“I’ve heard about it. The hotel was lucky.”
Tess shook her head. “The hotel was smart to hire Jarrell. In college, he was a genius in botany. Then he decided to give up science for culinary school. He’s amazing.”
“You seem to know him well,” Ian said.
Tess blushed. “We’re dating this summer. You don’t have to worry about the food here—not with Jarrell in the kitchen.”
“You mentioned two incidents?”
“A few days ago, one of our guests took what could have been a nasty tumble down the main staircase. I was on my way into the kitchen when I saw it and ran right over.”
“Did anyone else see what happened?”
She frowned. “There was another person in the lobby. He was the only one there except for the staff person on the front desk. By two in the afternoon, lunch is just about over and when the weather is good, the guests are mostly out and about.”
“So this man’s presence in the lobby was unusual?”
Tess shook her head. “What was unusual was that he never came over to offer help, and later, when I looked around, he was gone.”
Ian kept his tone casual. “Was he a guest?”
Tess frowned for a minute as she considered. “I can’t be sure. He was reading a newspaper so I didn’t get a look at his face.”
“Is there anything at all that you remember about him?”
“I was focused on the woman who fell. But…now that I think of it—he wore boots. Work boots. Most guests wear sandals or sneakers.” She glanced at her watch. “I have to go now. My shift starts in five.” She stretched a hand across the table and Ian shook it.
“Thanks, Tess.”
“You let me know when your book comes out, and I’ll buy a copy.”
“Sure thing.” Ian watched her race away. It was a hell of a lot easier to gather data on the Internet than it was to interrogate real people. You didn’t have to lie to your computer screen.
But Tess’s story of the man who’d disappeared right after the woman had fallen down the lobby stairs was something to think about. Pretty slim pickings, but it was all he had. He glanced down at his notes. Three seemingly unrelated incidents. Possible vandalism of the air-conditioning system, a package of bad mushrooms and a man in work boots hanging out in a fairly deserted lobby.
“Ryan.” Avery strode into the courtyard and over to his table. “How good are you with computers and software?”
“I have my moments.”
“Well, I hope you can have one now. Our whole system has shut down. I can’t check anyone in or out. And the line at registration is getting longer by the second.”
8
JILLIAN HEARD THE HUBBUB of voices in the lobby even before she reached the landing and turned to dash down the final flight of stairs. One glance at the crowd surrounding the registration desk told her there was a problem. Ten o’clock was always a busy time at Haworth House. The early ferry docked at nine-thirty so there would be new arrivals wanting to check in. And some of those in the line—no, make that throng—would be wanting to check out so they could catch the noon ferry. She knew that the hotel was fully booked, but she’d never seen this number of people in the lobby at one time.
A few of the staff were carrying around trays of water bottles. She couldn’t even catch a glimpse of Avery. With a smile, she took some water from the nearest staff member. Luckily, she knew him. “Mike, what’s going on?”
“The computer system has shut down,” he said in a low voice. “There’s no way to print bills, accept credit cards or bring up reservations and check new guests into their rooms.”
“Where’s Mr. Cooper?”
“He’s on it. One of the guests has volunteered to help out.”
She’d started forward, intending to find Avery, when a deep male voice said, “Ms. Brightman?”
Whirling, she saw two tall and very handsome men walking toward her. Colonel Jenkins was instantly recognizable from the photos she’d seen on the Web and in various publications. In person, he reminded her a bit of Paul Newman—the lean build, the preppy looks that aged very well and the killer blue eyes. Though she knew the colonel to be nearing sixty, he could easily pass for more than a decade younger.
And the son, with only a hint of gray in the blond hair, seemed to have inherited all the right genes. The family resemblance was strong. And if their reputations held, they had the brains to go with the looks.
Smiling, she hurried toward them. “Colonel and Mr. Jenkins, welcome to Haworth House.”
Colonel Jenkins took her hand in both of his and beamed a smile. “A pleasure. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
“And please call me Matthew,” the younger man said.
“I will if you’ll call me Jillian.” As she shook his hand, some of the voices behind her grew more strident. “I hope the ferry ride was uneventful.”
“It was a nonevent, actually,” Matthew said. “At the last minute we decided to charter a helicopter. The weather was excellent for flying. Our time is tight, and we won’t be restrained by the ferry schedule.” He glanced past her shoulder. “Is there a problem?”
“We’re very busy,” she said, her mind racing. She had no idea how long it would take Avery to get the problem solved. “And the chaos you’re witnessing is temporary, just a little computer glitch.”
Both men frowned.
The knot in her stomach tightened.
“How bad a glitch?” Matthew asked. “Can we check into our rooms?”
Jillian brightened her smile. “Not at the moment. But the problem is being handled as we speak. And it won’t interfere with our meeting.” She signaled one of the bellhops. “Larry will take your bags and escort you to the courtyard for some coffee. If you’ll excuse me for a second, I’ll see that we’re notified just as soon as your room is ready.”
“One of the many problems of running a hotel,” Colonel Jenkins said with an understanding smile.
Matthew said nothing and the frown didn’t completely fade from his face.
She waited for a second as Larry led them away. She would have to make sure he got a big tip. The volume of the discontented voices in the lobby was rising as she circled the perimeter and walked behind the registration desk.
She stopped short and stared when she saw him. He was standing behind one of the computer screens, his hands flying over the keys. Mike had told her that one of the customers was helping. But she hadn’t expected…He wore jeans again, and a chambray shirt rolled up to the elbows. Just looking at him had heat shimmering through her.
Focus, Jillian.
Tearing her gaze away, she noted that Avery was doing what he had a knack for, using his charm on a steadily growing group of dissatisfied customers. Giving her stranger as wide a berth as possible, she reached Avery and mouthed the words, “How bad?”
“Bad,” he said in a voice only she could hear. “I’ve never seen anything like this before. And we have the same problem in the restaurant. They’re okay now, but by lunchtime… Ryan over there seems to know what he’s doing. In the meantime, I’m offering to mail bills as soon as we access them and hope for the best.”
“Ryan?” She resisted the urge to glance over at him.
“Yeah. Jack Ryan. I told you about him last night.”
“The writer.” Sh
e searched her mind for the details. “He’s doing research for a book on Haworth House.”
Jillian read worry in the look Avery wore. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d seen that expression on his face.
“If we can’t recover the data, we could take quite a financial hit on this,” he said.
“We’ll take it,” Jillian assured him. “What about the check-ins?”
“I’m offering them complimentary drinks and a meal while they wait for their rooms and a free one-night stay on their next visit.”
“Brilliant.” She placed a hand on his arm, gave it a quick squeeze. Though the temptation was strong, she once more resisted the urge to look back at her stranger. “How good is this Jack Ryan?”
Avery spared her another look. “He’s good. I trust him.”
She nodded. So Zorro was skilled at something other than scaling balconies. “Colonel Jenkins and his son are here.”
“Shit,” Avery muttered. Then without missing a beat, he said to the next couple in line, “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll be glad to mail you the final bill, and you can contact me personally.” He handed them a card. “In addition, you’ll receive a voucher for a free night’s stay on your next visit.”
Jillian watched the worried expressions on the faces of the young couple vanish.
“So we’re all set?” the young man asked.
“Absolutely,” Avery assured them. Then he muttered in a low tone to Jillian. “Sorry about this, sweetie. I can’t check the Jenkinses in right now. As of last night we were booked solid and I have no way of seeing exactly which rooms are free.”
Jillian could see the truth of what he was saying on the computer screen where a blur of numbers was running.
“We need to make the noon ferry,” an impatient voice said.
“No problem,” Avery said as he pushed an address form toward the man and delivered his spiel about mailing bills along with a voucher for a free night’s stay.