To Win Her Smile

by Mackenzie Crowne

  “Oh, please.” Piper held out her hand. “Let me help.”

  Rosa smiled and handed over Piper’s small bag, then led her out of the kitchen and down a hallway toward the front of the house. In the foyer, to the right of a gorgeous beveled glass front door, Rosa turned to climb the wide staircase with Piper at her heels. At the second floor landing, the steps curved and continued to the third floor.

  To the left was a large formal living room. The hallway on their right ran to the back of the house and had four doors. Rosa stopped in front of the first one and stood to the side to let Piper enter.

  A sigh escaped as she glanced around the large bedroom decorated with a definite feminine flair in pale yellow with cream and blue accents. In keeping with the décor of the rest of the house, Victorian period pieces dotted the room and complemented the focal, hand-carved canopied bed that would have been at home in any well-to-do, mid-nineteenth century English bedroom.

  “How lovely.” Piper ran her fingertips over a wingback chair covered in a Flights of Fancy pattern of cotton silk.

  “Sí. You like?”

  “Very much so.” Piper turned to Rosa.

  The older woman nodded and followed her inside, then crossed to open a door on the far right wall. “When Wyatt buys this house, I tell him, you pay too much for these things.” She entered the adjoining room and reappeared a moment later, minus Wyatt’s bag. “But he says, no. I want nice.”

  When Wyatt bought the house?

  Rosa shrugged and, indicating the opposite side of the room, she gave Piper a quick tour of the generous en-suite bath, pointing out where the spare towels and toiletries were to be found. Piper eyed several toothbrushes still in their packages in the vanity drawer, then turned to glance across the distance to the open door of the adjoining room where Rosa had left Wyatt’s bag.

  “Does Wyatt often have guests who arrive in need of toiletries?”

  She regretted the catty sounding words the second they left her lips, but it was too late to slap her hand over her mouth. She briefly squeezed her eyes shut. “Never mind. Please. Don’t answer that. I have no right to ask such a thing.”

  Rosa patted her arm and her delighted laughter was the last reaction Piper expected. “When a woman has feelings for a man, querida, she has every right to ask.”

  “But I don’t,” Piper was quick to defend, “have feelings, that is.” She laughed weakly. “Not that I don’t care for him, it’s just that he and I are…you see, we’re…”

  Rosa smiled serenely, but a question creased her brow.

  “Oh, bother. I think I may have given you the wrong impression. Wyatt and I are just business associates.”

  “Ahh,” Rosa drew out. “I help you unpack, sí?”

  “That really isn’t necessary. I don’t have very much. Just a change of... Oh, all right.” Rosa slid the overnight bag from Piper’s loosened fingers. She watched, slightly amused, as the older woman placed the bag on the mattress and tugged open the zipper.

  “I tell you this,” Rosa said over her shoulder. “For many years, I care for Wyatt.” She removed the slacks and blazer Piper had packed for tomorrow’s press announcement and laid them aside with the matching brimmed, newsboy cap. “I know mijo as the boy and the man. The women, they love him. They can’t help it. He is muy hermoso.” She glanced up from her task. “Er…handsome, and charming, too, no?”

  Piper nodded because she couldn’t argue Rosa’s point—and it bothered her tremendously that the stab of jealousy she’d experienced over those toothbrushes was back.

  Rosa dug into the bag once more and frowned. She held up the plain black ball cap and sweatshirt Piper had shoved to the bottom of the bag—just in case. Turning, the older woman ran a skeptical gaze over the chic slacks, blouse, and sweater Piper had worn on the plane. With a shake of her head, Rosa added the hat to the pile on the mattress.

  “But, this,” she swung an arm indicating the room and beyond, “this is his home, querida. His family is here. Meg and Mandy, they are his heart. Tonya, too,” she quickly added. “Never once does he bring a woman here. So, I thinking, who is this lady mijo brings with him on such a special night?”

  She reached into the bag one last time, retrieving Piper’s small toiletry case and the short silk sleep shirt she’d included at the last minute, and turned to study her with a penetrating gaze. “Then, I see the way he looks at you and how you look back, and I know. This one.” She waggled a finger in Piper’s direction. “She is special.”

  Piper bit back a horrified whimper. Obviously, Rosa was something of a romantic, mistaking attraction for something deeper, but those hungry reporters would be circling starting tomorrow. If Piper was looking at Wyatt in a way that drew attention, she had to know.

  “I’m not sure what you mean. Look back at him how? How do I look at him?”

  “Like he is the one, querida.”

  Oh, bloody hell, no.

  Chapter 13

  Nine hours later, Piper swallowed against her nerves as she waited in the short queue at the west entrance to the governor’s mansion. According to Wyatt’s early morning phone call, her name had been added to the list of attendees for his father’s press announcement. The car Wyatt had sent to deliver her across town had arrived promptly at seven-thirty and would be waiting to take her back to his house when the event was over. He’d meet her there once he was free.

  Sounding tired, he’d apologized again for abandoning her last night. She’d brushed his apology off with a reminder his family came first. And he definitely considered Mandy family, just as Rosa had said. What had begun as a quick visit to the little girl’s third floor bedroom had ended in a night spent pacing the floor of the local hospital emergency room with Tonya and Meg. A diagnosis of a respiratory infection was a concern for all of them, but Mandy was apparently doing much better this morning.

  He’d ended the call with a promise to find the time for their “when” soon. She’d answered with a noncommittal reply. As far as she was concerned, Karma had spoken loud and clear. It was a shame, but their chance had passed. No doubt, he would argue they could find a way to keep their fling private but, from the look of the circus at the end of the mansion’s driveway, that would be impossible.

  “Name and ID.”

  Piper blinked up at the man holding a clipboard in his beefy hand. Wyatt had warned her she would face several layers of security, and the Cro-Magnon specimen studying her as if she were a potential threat was apparently the first line of defense. From what she could see, no other layers were necessary. Easily topping six-foot-five, the man’s height alone was enough to intimidate. The narrowed, distrustful eyes, yard-wide shoulders, and muscles straining the seams of his dark suit were overkill.

  She held out her passport. “Piper Darrow.”

  After checking his clipboard against her name, he shifted his intense gaze from her face to her passport picture and back, then he eyed her billed cap. “Please remove the hat, Miss Darrow.”

  “Of course.”

  Grateful for the large satellite trucks blocking her from the view of the cameras at the end of the drive, she slid the cap from her head and presented it to the guard. Not a single emotion crossed his face as he stared at the tight knot of her auburn hair for several seconds, then flipped the cap over. After checking the lining and bill, he handed it back along with her passport.

  “Thank you, ma’am. If you’ll place your bag on the table and step through the detector, you’ll be directed from there.” He didn’t wait for her response before addressing the next in line. “Name and ID.”

  Once Piper’s camera bag had been thoroughly searched and she’d received a secondary wanding from a female guard, she was directed down the hallway toward the front of the mansion where the press announcement was to be held. She removed the smaller of her cameras from her case as she walked, stopping here and there t
o snap photographs. Stanchions roped off several rooms of the historic building, but others were open to viewing, like the grand ballroom and a small but charming library.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll proceed to the foyer, we’re about to begin.”

  Piper turned her head at the young man’s announcement, then followed the others streaming toward the front of the house. Compared to the huge crowd outside, the attendance inside was paltry. Maybe thirty people filled the foyer, but from what Wyatt had said, attendance was by invitation only.

  She had to hand it to Richard Hunter. The man obviously knew the value of controlling his universe. The grand ballroom would have allowed for a much larger audience, but the elegant entryway with its stunning spiral staircase leading to the upper floors of the mansion was a much more striking backdrop.

  A podium carrying the Oklahoma official state seal stood empty at its base. She noted there wasn’t a single chair in sight. Obviously, the governor didn’t mind a fidgety audience. That, or he planned to keep his announcement brief. Either way, it seemed he also knew how to make an entrance.

  Wishing to remain as unobtrusive as possible, she tucked into a corner at the back of the crowd. Through her lens, she observed not just the building’s impressive architecture, but the people who had been invited to such an event. As a British citizen, most of the faces were strangers to her, but she did recognize a few. Like the former, flamboyant Attorney General of the United States and his Hollywood starlet wife.

  The chatter of conversation suddenly quieted beneath the whirl of cameras. Piper aimed her lens at the second floor landing from which Richard Hunter descended. In his late sixties, he was still a handsome man with a commanding presence impossible to ignore.

  A half dozen people followed in his wake, including Wyatt and Megan. The governor stopped behind the podium and began to speak. His words were lost on Piper, however, as she captured father and son together in her lens.

  Similar in coloring and stature, the familial connection was impossible to miss. Tall and muscular, Richard Hunter’s shoulders weren’t quite as broad as his son’s, but they were close. His grayish-green eyes were an identical shade to Wyatt’s. Glossy, dirty blond hair, sprinkled with gray, carried the same waves evident in his son’s longer, shaggy cut and the hint of a cleft shadowed both their chins. However, where Richard Hunter’s eyes and practiced smile gleamed with anticipation, the studied lack of emotion on Wyatt’s handsome face made him appear sober and tense.

  A far cry from his usual, easy humor and relaxed attitude, the difference in his appearance was striking to witness. She wondered if anyone else noticed the stiffness of Wyatt’s shoulders or the lines of strain bracketing his lips.

  Startled by how badly she wanted to smooth them until they were gone, she reminded herself she was here to do a job. Focusing on his face, she found the right composition with the governor slightly blurred in the foreground. As she snapped the shot, Wyatt’s intense gaze found her through her lens. She lowered the camera. The moment stretched as they stared at one another. His features softened slightly. Not a smile, exactly, just an easing of the tension tightening his mouth, and emotion prickled the back of her nose and throat.

  At the podium, his father introduced him and his sister, Megan. Wyatt looked away, breaking the silent connection. For the next ten minutes, Piper did the job for which she’d been hired, photographing the others standing behind the governor, and capturing candid shots of his audience as well. As Richard Hunter concluded his remarks by announcing his intention to seek the presidency of the United States, Wyatt shifted on the stairs behind him, momentarily exposing him and his sister to Piper’s lens.

  She snapped a shot as Megan leaned into her brother’s side. Without looking her way, Wyatt closed his wide-palmed hand around her much smaller one, and squeezed. Around them, the candidate and his staff accepted the applause of the crowd with a sort of joyful anticipation. Piper aimed her shutter at the candidate’s children, standing stiffly in the midst of the celebration as if in solidarity against an unknown enemy, and the prickling at the back of her nose returned.

  This time, she lost the battle with the threatening tears. As the applause and shouts of congratulations continued, she dipped her head and slid from the room.

  Inside the car, she tugged the bill of her cap low on her forehead and pretended to dig through her camera bag as the driver maneuvered the vehicle through the throng still staked out at the end of the driveway. A half mile from the governor’s mansion, she gave up the pretense, dropping her head back against the rest and shutting her eyes.

  Thank God Karma had stepped in to deny her and Wyatt their “when.” Obviously, the good guy part of him had already weakened her reserve enough that she was tearing up over his protective nature for his sister. Good Lord. How much worse would it have been if she’d succumbed to her greedy attraction for him instead of just contemplating it? Sex with Wyatt Hunter would be a disaster. She’d been fooling herself, believing she could sleep with him, then walk away at the end of their fling with some lovely memories and a whistle on her lips.

  She would never be able to pull off that lie. From here on in, she’d need to guard her mind and heart more effectively.

  * * * *

  Wyatt swirled the inch of whiskey in the glass Meg had handed him and considered downing it. As requested, he’d done his familial duty. So why was he twiddling his thumbs in his father’s private den when this was the last place he wanted to be?

  If not for Meg, he’d relish telling his father’s campaign manager to go fuck himself before stalking out.

  Wyatt glanced her way and she offered him a grateful smile. Jesus. How the hell was she was holding up? The speed with which this latest infection had hit Mandy scared the shit out of him. He was still reeling.

  “Who is Piper Darrow?”

  Ah, shit.

  He offered Walter Crowley a tight smile. “No one you need to be concerned about.”

  Richard Hunter’s long-time henchman eased back in the winged-back chair opposite the couch where Wyatt sat. In a familiar nervous twitch, the older man tapped the file he carried on the knee he had crossed over the other. “From today on, anyone connected to the campaign is a concern.”

  Wyatt downed his glass, after all. Hissing at the burn, he spoke through clenched teeth. “She has nothing to do with the campaign.”

  Walter’s cool gray gaze remained steady. “Then what was she doing here?”

  “The woman in the ball cap?”

  Wyatt cursed beneath his breath, but didn’t bother to turn as his father spoke from the doorway. Obviously, Piper was the reason he was still here. He’d fucked up adding her name to the attendee’s list at the last minute. He should have known it would raise red flags for Walter but, after last night, he hadn’t been thinking straight.

  “Her name is Piper Darrow.” Walter stood and pulled a sheet of paper from his file. He handed it to Richard as he passed by. While Wyatt’s father rounded his desk and sat, Walter turned to Wyatt. “She took a lot of pictures.”

  “Miss Darrow took a lot of pictures because it’s her job, Walter.” Meg spoke before Wyatt could. Squeezing his shoulder, she stepped around the couch to sit at his side. “She’s a photographer hired by the Marauders for a promotional spot they’re putting together.”

  “Then your brother should have presented her credentials instead of listing her as a guest.”

  “What credentials would those be?” Wyatt eyed the older man with a steely stare. “She’s a photographer. Not a member of the press.”

  Jesus, if he could kick his own ass, he would. With everything that had happened in the last twelve hours, he should have put Piper on his plane and sent her back to Manhattan. Away from his family, Dad’s announcement, and Walter’s paranoid radar.

  She was an intelligent woman and the car he’d ordered had delivered her through t
he same gauntlet he’d run at the end of the driveway when he’d arrived from the hospital. For a woman who wanted nothing to do with the limelight, today’s chaos must have felt like something out of a nightmare, and she had to know it would only get worse in the coming weeks.

  He’d caught her hesitation and her subtle evasion when they’d spoken earlier. She was going to slam the brakes on any personal association between them. Unfortunately, he couldn’t allow that. While he couldn’t blame her for being scared, neither was he willing to walk away from the unprecedented pull between them. Not until it had run its course.

  He had his work cut out for him if he was going to calm her fears enough to convince her they could work something out between them. If she discovered Igor was asking questions about her when Wyatt had promised he’d keep her name out of things… Fuck that. She couldn’t know anything about the campaign’s interest in her because, if she did, he could kiss any chance he had of seeing her naked good-bye.

  “Have Jennings run a background check on her.”

  “Bullshit.” Wyatt whipped his head around to glare at his father. “I want her left alone.”

  “That’s not your call.”

  “Like hell, it isn’t.” Wyatt slammed his empty glass to the coffee table in front of him. “Your sycophants and volunteers may be willing to let you invade their privacy, but Piper has nothing to do with you or your campaign. The only reason she was here today was because I brought her. Stay the fuck out of her life.”

  “You made her a part of my life by bringing her here.”

  Richard dropped the paper Walter had handed him onto the desktop and leaned back in his desk chair. Even from a distance of six feet and upside down, Wyatt recognized Piper in the photo. Security had obviously snapped the picture. Half in profile and minus the cap she’d been wearing, her dark auburn hair gleamed in the sunlight outside the west portico.

  “A background check isn’t necessary, Dad.” Meg shifted on the couch to face Richard. “She really is working for the Marauders.”