The young man glanced up from the computer and shot her a beaming smile. "Actually, we're all set up for you Miss Reed. Your room is ready."
She blinked in surprise. "Must have been a slow week for you to have rooms ready this early."
"I, uh, yes. We had some early checkouts." He busied himself typing information into the computer.
She glanced around while she waited. The hotel sported a comfortable atmosphere in the beige, cocoa and white color scheme she'd described to Mac in her fantasy home. Their fantasy home, she thought, feeling the onset of tears.
Obviously she couldn't put her bartender behind her. Even this luxurious hotel reminded her of Mac.
"Miss Reed?" The clerk's voice grounded her thoughts. "If you'll just sign here…"
Sam scrawled her name and accepted her white coded key.
"Room 315A. Take those elevators in the corner and someone will be around shortly with your luggage." He pointed toward an alcove nestled between several shops. "The restaurant is down one level and is already open for business. If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."
"Thanks again…" She leaned over the counter to read the name on his tag. "Joe. There is one more thing." She hated to ask, but she needed to know. "Has a Mr. Tom Webber checked in yet? Same conference."
The clerk tapped in a few computer keys. "Why, yes. Late last night. As a matter of fact, he left this for you."
A nervous fluttering arose in her stomach. "Thank you." She looked down to see an invitation to a firm cocktail party late this afternoon and a handwritten note informing her he'd be by to pick her up fifteen minutes before. So they could arrive together, arm in arm. A command performance, part of her obligation as his soon-to-be wife. She'd have to get to Tom before the party or perform as planned and wait until afterward to talk to him. The thought made her ill.
She glanced at her watch. It was too early to awaken her fiancé no matter how much she wanted this trauma behind her. Well, she could take care of other things in the meantime. At least her father was an early riser, and he deserved to hear her decision before Tom called him, raving about broken deals and dire consequences.
As she headed for the bank of elevators in the corner, she wondered if Tom might accept things better than she anticipated. Perhaps he'd made idle threats to her father, ones he'd never meant to carry out. He'd seen a man weaker than himself and preyed on that weakness. It didn't mean he'd follow through.
Tom was a nice-looking man, more than capable of attracting women. This wasn't a love match, and there were plenty of women more beautiful than she was, women more willing and better suited to play the role of a rich man's wife. Not that she believed anything could salvage her position in Tom's company. He was ruthless in business, and his personal life would be no different. To save his ego, Tom would never keep her around. To save her sanity and find the life that suited her best, Sam would give her notice regardless.
Her room was at the end of a very long, elegant corridor. Light wooden hand-carved sconces lined the walls and lit the way. If she understood the signs correctly, this floor would be on the pool level, but her room was in the opposite direction.
Without warning, the rooms became farther apart until there were no consecutive doors anymore. When she reached room 315A, she discovered there was also a 315B. Connecting rooms, she assumed, and her stomach cramped in a tight knot.
She hoped Tom hadn't gotten any crazy ideas about spending any intimate time with his fiancée. Until now he'd been content with holding hands in public for appearance's sake. She hoped that hadn't changed. It would only complicate what had to be done.
She inserted the card key and opened the door to her room. Suite, she mentally corrected herself as she took in the spacious area that defined the word luxury. Not one amenity was missing. She stood in an oversize room with a kitchen in one corner and living area in another. Her sweeping gaze caught a plush couch, tables, telephone, VCR and large-screen television. A person could live here well beyond one weekend and never want for a thing. There had to be a mistake. She should have realized it the minute the clerk told her there was a room available on an early weekday morning.
Curiosity took over, and she decided to explore before reporting the error. One partially open door led to a bathroom. She peeked inside. Taupe-and-cream marble, not the standard ceramic usually found in hotels, covered the floors, vanities and Jacuzzi tub. She glanced upward, seeing the full-service shower massage with nozzles everywhere, even in the marble walls.
Wow. She and Mac would have a blast in a place like this. Imagine all the uses he would find for the myriad jets in the Jacuzzi and stall shower. Heat blasted her body as she recalled their first time together in the old tub over the bar. She wrapped her arms around her, but it wasn't the same. She missed him already.
The extravagance here was impressive, but she'd been happier at Bear's. Because Mac had been with her. This suite and its luxuries meant nothing to her without him.
Finishing her brief tour, she noticed two more unopened doors. One she assumed would lead to a bedroom, the other possibly to her fiancé. She shivered at the thought. No noises sounded from either room. If Tom was inside, at least he was still asleep.
Sam quietly picked up the phone and called the front desk, explaining her predicament to Joe.
"I assure you there's been no error, Miss Reed."
"I've been to many conferences, Joe, and I can assure you my company doesn't splurge on suites for its employees." A standard room would be more likely.
"Let me check." Sam heard the clicking of computer keys before the clerk came back on the line. "Well, you're right."
"I knew it."
"You've been upgraded."
"Courtesy of?" she asked, but she already knew the answer. And she refused to remain here and be obligated to Tom when she knew she was about to break off their engagement.
"Hang on a minute, let me check."
Sam drummed her fingernails against the glass tabletop. As things stood now, she'd have to pay for her expenses out of her own pocket, and she certainly couldn't afford to splurge on a suite. She'd have to budget carefully until she found a new job, and she didn't want to dip into her small savings unless absolutely necessary.
What kind of financial planner would she be if she didn't heed the advice she gave her own clients? Save and prepare for the future had always been her mantra. Too bad her dad hadn't listened. Then she wouldn't be in this predicament now.
Wrong. If she'd asserted herself from the beginning, if she'd taken control of the situation another way, she wouldn't be in this predicament now. She refused to blame her parent because she'd succumbed to old habits, agreeing to play the dutiful daughter out of a sense of misplaced need. Part of her new outlook meant taking responsibility for her role in this mess.
"Miss Reed? This upgrade's on the house," Joe informed her.
"Are you sure? But why…"
"I'm sorry, but I've got to run. An emergency, you understand. If you have any questions, just stop by the front desk later." A click was followed by a dial tone.
She'd been disconnected. "Five-star service my…" At least she knew Tom wasn't lurking in the next room. She slammed down the receiver. Loud.
If her accommodations weren't thanks to Tom, then whom? An even better question would be why?
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. "Valet," a voice called.
Great. Now her luggage would be deposited in this room, making it even more difficult for her to leave. She accepted her bags and tipped the bellman, then she called down to the front desk one more time. Joe insisted things were in order, refused to listen to her arguments and claimed there were no other available single rooms.
Sam tossed her arms in the air. "What else can go wrong?"
She tried her father, got his answering machine and left a message asking him to get back to her later. Ignoring the early hour, she called the hotel operator and asked to be connected with Tom Webber's r
oom. His personal voice mail, another amenity of this lovely hotel, informed her he had an early tee-time and lunch with clients, but he would meet up with everyone at the reception this evening.
She raised her gaze heavenward. "I had to ask?" Lowering herself onto the small couch, she propped her feet up and sighed. Confession was postponed, and all attempts at room switches would have to be done in person.
She had a day to kill. A day she could have spent with Mac, if she hadn't been so darn stubborn, so… The phone rang, cutting her off. "Hello?"
"Hi there, Sammy Jo."
Her heart began a rhythmic pounding that echoed in her ears. "Mac? Is that you?" Stupid question, but she was so relieved to hear from him she could have cried.
"Anyone else call you Sammy Jo… besides Zee, and he's outside waxing my car with no access to a phone."
"Waxing your… He's eighty years old. Do you want to give the man heatstroke?"
"I'm joking, Samantha."
"Oh." She laughed, even as she swiped at a stray tear that trickled down her cheek. "But I'm not. No one calls me Sammy Jo but you."
"Damn right," he muttered. "And don't you forget it."
He wasn't angry. She would have heard it in his voice. At least she thought she would have, but she couldn't be sure. "Mac?"
"What is it, sweetheart?"
"I… I'm glad you called." She paused, listening to his steady breathing, letting the sound burrow into her heart and reassure her. "And I'm sorry I walked out on you this morning. But I have things I need to take care of here, and I didn't know how to say goodbye, and now I'm sorry because we would have had more time, and I don't know if you're angry. Of course you have every right to be, but…"
"You're rambling," he interrupted her.
She grinned, pictured him grinning back, and the tightness in her chest eased for the first time since she'd left him in bed. "I know."
"Because you're nervous."
"Yes."
"I can take care of that, you know." His husky tone caused every nerve ending in her body to quiver. He aroused her with innuendo, relaxed her with his voice and touched her with a simple phone call.
She squeezed the receiver in her hand. "How?"
"Trust me, sweetheart."
* * *
"I do."
The simple admission did Mac in. He eased himself back against the pillow, wishing he weren't alone, that he didn't have to settle for her voice over the phone.
But the bar needed work, and Mac wasn't one to turn the reins over until the place had been cleaned up. He wouldn't ask Zee to help out, either. The old man had planned his weekly trip to the cemetery to visit his wife's grave. Mac couldn't intrude on his solitude. So until Bear returned in a few hours, Mac was on his own.
Think resourceful, Mackenzie. "Okay, sweetheart. Relax and tell me where you are."
She sighed. "My room."
He laughed. "I know that. I called you, remember? Describe it."
"Well, there's been some sort of mistake, and right now I'm in a suite. It's incredible. The colors, they're like a dream. My dream, the one I told you about, remember?"
As if he could forget. A house, a home, children, his and hers. Samantha's soft voice drifted over him like a cloud. She was happy in his hotel, in the suite that adjoined his, the one his sister used to live in before she got married and moved a few hours away.
"And Mac?"
"Yes?"
"You should see the bathroom. The colors are heaven, and the tub? It's a Jacuzzi." She'd dropped her voice, and the husky sound brought him back to the moment he'd first seen her, dirty from the desert but irresistible, nonetheless.
"You know what else? It's got a shower massage." She paused a beat. "Hand-held, Mac."
He groaned. A pulsing began in his groin that only grew with each image she evoked. He'd pictured her in his tub, naked and relaxed, all soapy skin, legs spread wide…
"Are you there?" she asked.
He cleared his throat. "Yes. I thought I was the one that was supposed to be taking care of you."
"I thought we could take care of each other." The pause this time seemed less deliberate. "We were good at that, weren't we?" she finally asked.
"You know we were. Have you eaten yet this morning?" He grasped for everyday conversation. Safe conversation that led him away from thoughts of Samantha, shower massages and making love. Long distance didn't cut it.
A direct flight from Arizona to New York wouldn't cut it, either.
"No breakfast yet, but I'm starving." She let the word drawl out on her tongue in a way that shot his resolutions to hell and back. "What about you? Are you hungry?" she asked.
Ravenous, he thought, but not for food. He glanced at the clock. A couple of more hours and this damn charade would be over with. "What are your plans?" he asked, steering her back to safe ground.
"Well, I have a cocktail party around four today, which is an obligatory thing, and then I've got… some personal business to take care of."
At which point he'd be back where he belonged and more in control of the situation. And himself. So far, he'd managed to keep the truth from Sam by offering Joe, his newest but most eager employee, a bonus if he managed to have Sam treated like a princess. One who had no idea who'd placed her on the throne.
That was Mac's job, one he planned on handling tonight.
"What about you?" she asked.
"I'll be doing my usual thing later on."
"Sounds good. Wish I could be there."
You will, sweetheart. You will. "I've got to clean things up around here… before Bear comes back."
"I never got to meet him."
Her wistful voice knocked a hole in his heart. "Maybe someday."
"Yeah. Maybe." Though he hated like hell leaving her with the impression that things between them were uncertain, she'd given him no choice. The telephone hadn't been invented for personal revelations this big. "Got to go, sweetheart."
"Bye, Mac."
He waited until she hung up the phone before doing the same. Then he dragged himself into the bathroom and turned the cold water on in the shower, full force. It would help ease the ache of desire, but not completely.
Only Samantha could do that. She had no idea what she did to him, and he wasn't talking just physically. Their relationship transcended sex. She taught him new things about himself, about his ability to love and give, but more important, she seemed to learn more about herself each day as well.
He finally had her where he wanted her, but the thought made him uneasy. As long as she remained in the dark, everything would be fine.
10
Sam bolted upright in bed. A sheen of perspiration covered her body, courtesy of the sensual dream she'd just experienced. Strategic parts of her body still tingled with the memory of Mac's hands on her skin, his lips tasting hers. She wrapped her arms around her waist to still the trembling, the yearning for something she couldn't have.
Because although Mac had called, he hadn't mentioned seeing her again. It hurt, she admitted, and she'd have to deal with that.
First she had to cope with reality, and that meant getting herself out of this gilded cage she couldn't afford. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and reached for her purse when she caught sight of her left hand and Mac's ring.
The ring she had to remove and replace with Tom's… at least until she officially ended things between them. Although she wanted nothing more than to keep Mac's ring close to her heart, she wouldn't humiliate her fiancé, despite his threats to do the same to her father. She might not love him, he might not love her, but they had an agreement. Once she'd said yes, he'd never been anything but accommodating and reasonable in their dealings. He deserved the same respect from her.
Her hands shook, and as she slipped the turquoise-and-silver ring off her finger, a premonition shook her, one similar to the eerie feeling she'd experienced in the tourist shop. As long as you wear this ring, you will be wed for eternity. Did that mean if she
removed the ring, she'd break the spell?
"What spell?" Sam shook her head at her foolish musings. She'd never believed in such nonsense before and she refused to start now.
After carefully placing the special ring in her purse, she eased Tom's three-carat diamond attention-getter onto her finger. The gold band felt cold against her skin. Suppressing a shiver, she darted into the hall and shut her door behind her.
Back in the lobby, she waited until Joe finished with another couple before waving to capture his attention.
"Good afternoon, Miss Reed."
She smiled at the courteous young man. "Hello, Joe."
"What can I do for you?"
"Well, like I said on the phone, there's a problem with the room, I mean the suite."
"It's not to your liking?"
"I like it just fine, who wouldn't? It's just that I don't belong there. I don't know who authorized the upgrade, but it's a mistake. One I can't afford. So please check your computer and find me an ordinary, standard room."
He shook his head. "I already told you there aren't any other rooms available."
She wanted to scream in frustration. "You said this morning you had quite a few early checkouts."
"And just as many check-ins. If it makes you feel better, this one won't cost you…"
He must have caught her warning look because he stuttered before continuing. "This won't cost you more than the standard room you think you should have." He practically beamed again. "Satisfied?"
She slapped her hand on the desk. "Not by a long shot." But it wasn't Joe's fault. "I'm sorry. But please just put my name on a waiting list or something and let me know if an opening becomes available. Is that all right?"
"Yes, Miss Reed."
"Good."
His gaze had settled on her hand. Her left hand. "That's a lovely ring."
"Thank you," she murmured.
"I always knew Mr. Mackenzie had good taste. He's my idol, you know. I'd like to learn as much as I can about hotel management from him and then…"
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