Backfire

by Metsy Hingle

  Pride, stubborn and simple, held him back. He wanted Madeline. But he wanted her to make the decision for them to become lovers with her eyes open, because it was what she wanted, not because she had been coerced with promises of love or in the heat of the moment.

  “Chase, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…” She paused and finished straightening her clothes. “I didn’t intend for things to get so out of hand.”

  “How long are you going to make us wait, Madeline?” he asked, unable to keep the frustration out of his voice.

  Her chin angled up, even as color flooded her cheeks. “Despite my actions tonight, I’m not a tease, Chase. And I swear I’m not playing games with you.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?”

  “Then why are you so angry with me?” she demanded.

  “I’m not angry with you. I’m angry with myself.”

  “Why?” she asked, her expression puzzled.

  “Because you’re still not ready for an affair with me, and I’ve been ready since the moment I laid eyes on you three months ago.” Chase dragged his hands through his hair. He let out his breath. “And because I’m doing a lousy job of keeping my promise to let you catch up with me.”

  “I might not ever catch up.”

  “You will,” he told her, confident that it was only a matter of time.

  But that had been more than a week ago. And judging by the way Madeline had avoided him since that night, he was no longer quite so sure.

  “Where is he?”

  Chase jerked his thoughts back to the present at the sound of Henri Charbonnet’s voice..

  “You mean Chase? I mean, Mr. McAllister?” Ellen, his secretary asked.

  “Of course I mean McAllister.”

  “He’s in his office,” Ellen informed Charbonnet. “I’ll buzz through and tell him you’re here to see him.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll tell him myself.” Charbonnet shoved the door open and stormed into Chase’s office, clutching a crumpled sheet of hotel stationery in his fist.

  “Something I can do for you, Henri?” Chase offered calmly, taking in the mottled color of the other man’s face.

  “Yes,” he snarled. “You can start remembering just who it is that owns this hotel.”

  “If memory serves me correctly, it’s owned by Majestic Hotels and you,” Chase returned.

  “That’s right. I own this hotel. Not you.” Charbonnet’s nostrils flared. “So who the hell do you think you are, sending this—this letter to Lana Duvernay?” He threw the mangled sheet of paper down on Chase’s desk.

  Steepling his fingers, Chase gave a cursory glance to the letter he had sent to the decorator, thanking her for her efforts and informing her he had chosen another firm whose prices were more in line with their budget. He looked up again at Charbonnet. “I’m the person who’s responsible for seeing that the renovation of this hotel comes in on budgetsomething it won’t do if I use your friend Lana Duvernay to redecorate the suites. I’ve chosen another firm to do the work.”

  “You can’t do that. I’ve already promised Lana the job.”

  “Then you’ll just have to break that promise, because we’re not using her firm. Her prices were out of linesomething you would have known if you’d bothered to look at the other proposals we received. She was the highest of the three firms who bid for the job. Take a look and see for yourself.” He picked up the proposals and tossed them on the corner of the desk in front of Charbonnet. “Everything she’s proposed—the wall coverings, the drapes, even the carpet—it’s way over budget and thirty percent higher than the other bids.”

  Charbonnet didn’t so much as even glance at the other offers. “Of course Lana’s prices were higher. She’s the best. If you want the best, you have to pay for it.”

  “But you’re not the one paying for it,” Chase reminded him. “Majestic Hotels is.”

  Henri’s face flushed a deeper shade of red. He leaned forward, fury in his eyes. “Listen, you bastard, this is still my hotel. I’m its executive director and I’m the one who calls the shots around here. Not you. And I say Lana Duvernay gets the job.”

  Chase came to his feet, barely able to contain the anger and hatred gnashing around inside him. Placing his palms flat on the desk, he leaned closer and looked into Henri’s eyes. “No, Charbonnet. You listen,” he said, his voice hard and deadly, matching the feelings the other man elicited in him. “You may hold the title of executive director of this hotel, but it and the people who work here are no longer a part of your private little empire to command as you please. You’re not the one calling the shots now. You gave up that right when you sold controlling interest to Majestic Hotels. And like it or not, I’m the one who calls the shots for Majestic. And I say your pal Lana Duvernay does not get the job.”

  “We’ll just see about that. You’ve overstepped your bounds on this one, McAllister. You forget you’re nothing but a flunky for Majestic, but I intend to see that you’re reminded of that fact.” He straightened, moving a few steps away before turning back to face Chase.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes. And once I’ve talked to your superiors at Majestic, we’ll see just which one of us will be calling the shots.”

  “Why don’t we find out right now?” Chase shoved the phone toward Charbonnet. “Go ahead. Make the call.”

  Chase waited, but when the other man made no move toward the phone, Chase taunted, “Don’t know the number? Would you like me to dial it for you?”

  Charbonnet glared at him. “I’ll dial it myself. From my office, you smug son-of-a-bitch. And when I finish, you’re going to find yourself out of a job and your ass being shipped back to New Jersey or wherever it is you come from.”

  “Don’t count on it, Charbonnet. I’m here until the renovations are finished and this place is back on its feet. Considering the poor job that’s been done of managing it, that’s liable to be some time.”

  “This is still my hotel and I want you out of here,” Charbonnet snapped, his face nearly purple with rage.

  Stunned by her father’s angry outburst, Madeline froze in the doorway leading into Chase’s offices. Closing the door to the suite, she looked over at Ellen who quickly buried her nose in a stack of files.

  “And until you’re gone, I want you to keep away from my daughter.”

  Madeline’s breath caught in her throat. She felt the color rush to her cheeks and hurried to the partially opened door.

  “Then you’ve got another problem. Because I have absolutely no intention of staying away from Madeline,” Chase said, his voice as hard and cold as his face. “My relationship with her is none of your business.”

  “Like hell it isn’t. She’s still my daughter, and I won’t have people talking about her because you—”

  “Father!” Madeline rushed into the room, mortified as much by her father’s warning off Chase as by the ugly flush of color staining his cheeks. She pushed the door closed behind her and went over to her father. “What on earth is going on here? Why are you fighting with Chase?”

  “Stay out of this, Madeline,” he father said. “It doesn’t concern you.”

  “Doesn’t concern me?” Madeline repeated, bristling at the dismissal. “Since I, and anyone within shouting distance, just heard you tell Chase to keep away from me, I’d say it does concern me.”

  “You’re only a small part of it. It’s business, Madeline. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Madeline checked the urge to flinch. It had always been this way. Her father not believing her capable of understanding or running the hotel as a business. He had already demonstrated that much by opting to sell off a share of the hotel, hadn’t he? So, why should it hurt to have him say as much now? It shouldn’t. But it did. “You might be surprised just how much I am capable of understanding about business,” she told him, unable to keep the hurt out of her voice.

  Her father sighed. Under the glare of the office lighting, she could easily define each line and groove in his fac
e. Today he looked every one of his sixty-three years, she thought. Was it her imagination, or were there more of those age lines than had been there a month ago? Suddenly Madeline felt swamped by thoughts of his mortality. “Father, I—”

  “Just leave it alone, Madeline. You worry about straightening things out between you and Bradley.” He touched her cheek, stroking it as he had when she was a little girl and had awakened from a bad dream. “You let me worry about the hotel.”

  His gaze flitted back to Chase and all the tenderness of a moment ago vanished. Moving back to the desk, he picked up the crumpled letter lying there. “You haven’t heard the last of this, McAllister—not by any means.”

  “I didn’t think I had.”

  He marched over to the door and pulled it open. “Are you coming, Madeline?”

  She hesitated, torn between her concern for her father and her desire to remain with Chase.

  “Go ahead, Madeline,” Chase told her, making the decision for her. She would have sworn she saw disappointment in his eyes.

  “But I had a message you wanted to see me.”

  “I do. But it can wait. You know where to find me. You get back to me when you’re ready,” he told her.

  Heat shimmied its way up her cheeks. She hadn’t missed the meaning behind the words or the message in those icy blue eyes before he’d turned his back on her and her father and buzzed for his secretary.

  Chase was angry. He was tired of playing the game. He wanted her and knew she wanted him. And if and when she was ready to take him as her lover, she would have to take the next step. Madeline swallowed hard at the thought as she followed her father out of the office.

  “Stay away from him, Madeline,” her father told her as they stepped inside the elevator. “Don’t be taken in by that so-called charm of his. Chase McAllister’s the wrong man for you.”

  Unfortunately, she thought as the doors closed and the old elevator made its way down to the lobby, Chase McAllister was the only man she wanted.

  But if Chase still wanted her, he gave no indication. She could have kissed him for not gloating over her father, when Majestic had firmly sided with Chase on the issue of the interior decorator for the hotel. But in the two weeks since she had left his office with her father, he hadn’t given her the opportunity. Nor had he tried to coax her into his bed.

  Madeline frowned. When they had been alone for scant seconds before a staff meeting, he’d made no attempt to steal a kiss. There had been no calls from him demanding she come to his office. There had been no further requests for her to join him for dinner or even coffee.

  And she had missed those stolen kisses. She had missed the trumped-up excuses to see her. She had missed him, Madeline admitted. She far preferred the arrogant, flirtatious Chase to this stranger who treated her with cool professionalism—and who seemed to go out of his way to avoid being alone with her.

  You know where to find me, Madeline. You get back to me when you’re ready.

  Well, she was ready.

  Madeline swallowed the lump of nerves lodged in her throat. Edgy, she crushed the skirt of her dress in her fist, then smoothed the black silk with her fingertips as she strode purposefully through the lobby to the elevators. She had been ready for more than a week and would have made the trip to Chase’s room sooner had it not been for her father. While her father had always spent less time than he should at the hotel, since his battle and loss to Chase on the decorating issue, his presence had grown even more scarce. Even though Chase was technically at the helm of hotel operations and had gained most everyone’s respect, the employees , for the most part, still considered the hotel to be the property of the Charbonnet family. Old habits and loyalties didn’t die easily.

  Hence, in her father’s absence, it was to her they turned for the everyday decision making or to handle any daily crises that arose. While she didn’t mind, it did eat into her time—especially considering she had her own job functions to perform in the sales and marketing departments.

  Perhaps it was just as well, she decided. Watching the floor numbers register, she waited to see which of the two elevators would make it down to the lobby first. Given her father’s strange mood of late and his unsuccessful attempts to get her and Bradley back together again, she wasn’t exactly his favorite person at the moment. No doubt, her approval rating as a daughter would take another dip when she finally did convince him that he was wasting his time where she and Bradley were concerned. He certainly wouldn’t be happy when she told him the reason she would never marry Bradley was because she was already in love with Chase.

  Her stomach somersaulted, just as it had when she had first come to that realization last week. She had been hit smack dab in the belly when she’d watched him help Ruthie with a heavy tray in the restaurant. The same feeling had hit her later, when she’d heard he’d given instructions that no waiter or waitress was to have their serving trays overloaded. At the staff meeting, there had been genuine affection and excitement in his eyes when he had shown old photos of the hotel and outlined the painstaking effort that had been undertaken to not change the hotel, but to restore it to its former beauty. She had known then that he loved her hotel as much as she did. And the kick in her belly had promptly moved straight to her heart.

  She loved him. While Chase might not love her, he did want her. And for now it would have to be enough. Her mother had once told her that the Saint Charles was a magical place—a place designed for lovers and for the celebration of love. Considering her parents’ devotion to each other and her father’s continued love for her mother despite her death years ago, perhaps it was true. Perhaps some of that magic would rub off on her and Chase. At any rate she intended to find out, Madeline told herself and pushed the button again, knowing it wouldn’t speed up the slowdescending elevator cars, but doing it all the same.

  “I’m sorry, sir. But you didn’t guarantee the reservation with a credit card or a check. We held the room until six o’clock, and when you weren’t here, the room was released.”

  Madeline’s gaze swiveled to the front desk where a middle-aged man, with his suitcase and briefcase resting beside him, stood glowering at the desk clerk. From the man’s rumpled suit and the weary lines of his face, she surmised he had just had one of those travel days from hell. Finding his hotel reservation canceled had evidently been the last straw.

  “And I’m telling you my flight was delayed. I couldn’t get here before six. I made that reservation months ago, and I want a room. Now,” the irate man demanded.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Addison. But all we have left are suites. The hotel’s almost filled up for one of the university graduations. As I explained, I can put you in a suite, but not at a king room rate.”

  “Listen to me, young man.” He leaned over the front desk and glowered at the clerk. “I come to this hotel several times a year, and I was planning to come back next month with my wife for a vacation, but if you can’t—”

  “Hello, Mr. Addison. Madeline Charbonnet, sales director for the Saint Charles.” She extended her hand. “We’re glad to have you visiting us again. What seems to be the problem, Marvin?”

  While the desk clerk went through a brief recap and Addison rehashed his travel day, Madeline made sympathetic noises as she surveyed the rooming list for weekend arrivals and departures. She queried Mr. Addison about his airline departure schedule, and after juggling with the guest arrivals scheduled for the following day, she turned back to the clerk. “Marvin, put Mr. Addison in Suite 503 and charge him the king room rate. Have housekeeping put his room first on the list for cleanup.” That way the suite would be ready for the late arrivals she had slated for the room. “Enjoy your stay with us, Mr. Addison.”

  “I will. Thank you, Ms. Charbonnet,” Addison told her, his face filled with relief.

  “We’ll look forward to having you and your wife join us next month. Perhaps you’d like Marvin to make your reservation for you now.”

  “I’ll do that. And I’ll guarant
ee it this time with my credit card. Thank you again.”

  “My pleasure,” she assured him. Marvin mouthed the words thank you and she gave him a wink, while Mr. Addison fished out his credit card and gave the clerk the dates for his trip next month.

  “Very smooth, Princess.”

  Madeline whipped around at the sound of Chase’s voice. Her heart stammered in her chest to find him standing behind her.

  “It seems there’s just no end to your talents. You’re able to soothe even the most irate guests with your charm—even when it’s not your job to do so.”

  Madeline’s breath caught in her throat. Excitement clawed its way up her spine. There was nothing soothing or the least bit charming about the hot, hungry light in his eyes as he looked at her. His gaze raked over her, stripping her bare of the black dress she had worn specifically with the intention of seducing him. An answering heat caught fire inside her.

  “Madeline,” Marvin called over to her from the front desk. “The couple in 905 wants to stay an extra day, but we’re sold out for tomorrow. Do you think you could take another look at the rooming list and see if—”

  Chase shot a silencing glance at the clerk. Anger seemed to vibrate from him. “You handle it, Marvin. Ms. Charbonnet’s not on duty.”

  “Chase, I don’t mind. Really.” She offered him a nervous smile.

  “But I do.” Before she could protest further, he cupped her arm and marched her outside to the street. “Where’s your car?” he asked, his voice razor sharp.

  “In the hotel garage,” she replied, confused by his obvious annoyance.

  “Come on, then. I’ll see you to your car. You should have been gone from here hours ago.”

  “But I did go home. To change clothes.”

  His gaze swept over her again. “Then you should have stayed home.”

  “I didn’t want to stay home.” Madeline stopped in the middle of the sidewalk to look at him and tell him she had come back to see him. A sliver of moonlight, combined with the faint glow from a street lamp, emphasized the rigid line of his jaw and the muscle ticking angrily in his cheek. The anger confused her, sent the nerves climbing through her stomach again. She took a deep breath. “I came back because I wanted—”