With No Reservations, page 7
The silence dragged out until it was painful. Lacey licked her lips. She hated herself for asking, because it was so obvious that he wanted her to. “What’s that?”
He looked up toward the shifting patterns of tree branches above his head. “The gratitude you would feel if I bailed you out.” His voice was low and indolent.
“I don’t quite understand.”
He turned his head and smiled at her. “Come on, Lacey. You never used to be lacking in imagination. When I think of the ways you could find to express your appreciation...”
She gasped and sat bolt upright in the lounge chair. “Damon Kendrick, you’re a filthy-minded beast!”
“Careful,” he warned. “I’m not sure that bikini will stand the strain if you get any more upset.”
“You’ve got a nerve! Carrying on like this, telling me you didn’t want the hotel, just so you could try to bluff me into your bed!”
His voice cut coolly across the tirade. “I’m not bluffing, Lacey. If I take on the Clinton, it will be as a personal favor to you. And I am not accustomed to doing favors without getting favors in return.”
She started to laugh. “You know, this is really a pathetic joke.”
“No joke about it.”
“The very idea that I would prostitute myself...” She sputtered to a halt.
“Don’t you think that’s putting it a little strongly? It’s not as if you wouldn’t have a good time. You know quite well that you would enjoy going to bed with me. Two years ago your prudish moral code kept you from doing it. Now...”
She swallowed hard, feeling as if she was fighting for her sanity. “You’re a better businessman than that,” she said desperately. “You didn’t get where you are by basing business decisions on something as crass as your own lust.”
“No,” he said coolly. “I didn’t. Don’t kid yourself that I’m willing to make a company sacrifice to have you. I’m not about to put my head on the block with my board of directors. If I buy the Clinton, you can bet that it’ll end up being a profit-maker.”
She seized on the fragment of hope. “Then why drag me into it at all? Either you want it or you don’t!”
“Because it really doesn’t matter to me whether I get the Clinton or not. It’s a marginal decision, and I’m inclined to turn it down simply because there are too many other opportunities right now to make that one worth my time. But you’re the thing that could tip the balance, Lacey.”
She felt as if her chest was so compressed that she would never be able to draw another breath.
“Because, you see, I do still want you.”
It was cool and precise, she thought in horror, as if he was talking about a new car or a piece of furniture!
The silence stretched out interminably.
“I suppose I should be flattered,” she said stiffly, thinking of the woman he’d brought to her party. “Your standards in women are going up.”
“I don’t know about that. You’ve been in my head for a long time.” He looked completely relaxed, sitting in the comfortable lounge chair, as if the proposition he had just made was a matter of complete indifference to him. He wasn’t even looking at her; he seemed to be admiring a cardinal in the top of the oak tree.
She said, sarcastically, “And I suppose you’d like to take care of implementing this little arrangement right now. My parents won’t be back for a couple of hours. It’s a perfect opportunity.”
He turned his head lazily and looked at her, and then got out of his chair. “If you like,” he said equably. In little more than a step he was beside her, bending to pick her up out of her chair.
She struggled in his arms. “No!” It was only a hoarse whisper; she had no strength left to scream. “I didn’t agree to it – I didn’t!”
“It certainly sounded to me as if you did.” He kicked the back door open and carried her into the wide hallway, He let her slide slowly till her toes barely touched the floor, and every square inch of her skin protested as the heat of his body scorched her. The tiny wisps of her bikini were no protection at all against the pressure of his hands forcing her against him, molding her muscles to the hard contours of his. His mouth came down on hers without gentleness, in a harsh and demanding kiss that cut off what might have been a shriek – or only a frightened whimper.
Then he let her go so suddenly that she staggered and would have crumpled to the floor if his hands hadn’t closed again on her upper arms and held her steady.
“I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you,” he said. He was breathing raggedly. “But actually, I didn’t bring you in here to ravish you today. I just carried you in so you wouldn’t cut your beautiful toes on the broken glass out there.”
It took a moment for the relief to soak through her. “I knew you couldn’t mean that horrible suggestion,” she whispered. “Damon—”
“Oh, I mean it. And as for this afternoon, and your invitation...”
“It wasn’t an invitation!”
“I could make love to you right now with the greatest of pleasure. But I told you once that it’s going to take considerably more than a one-night stand before I get tired of you, and I’m not going to risk losing that. When you come to me, Lacey—”
“I won’t,” she said hotly. “I still have options, you know!”
“You will come to me.” His voice was like the soothing whisper of a hypnotist. “Because you want to know what we could be like together.”
He pulled her against him, more gently this time. His lips were soft and tender, and yet this kiss was every bit as threatening. Her muscles wouldn’t work properly, she realized foggily. Nothing about her was functioning correctly. Her arms seemed to want to go around his neck...
He raised his head. “That’s just to remind you that being my mistress wouldn’t be such a terrible thing for you, after all.”
Then he was gone.
Lacey sagged against the wall. Even with that support, her legs wouldn’t hold her up, and she slid down to the hard oak floor in a crumpled heap. She sat there for a long time, knowing that she must get up, that she had to pull herself together before her parents came home.
Dear heaven, she thought, what am I going to tell my parents?
CHAPTER FIVE
Lacey was absolutely astounded that Ben and Ginny didn’t seem to notice anything wrong with her. They came home overflowing with plans for all the things they were going to do when winter came, and settled themselves at the dining room table with a stack of Arizona Highways magazines, a guidebook, and a map — all borrowed from George and Elinor Tanner.
Lacey retreated to the far end of the house and turned the television set on. Even there, she couldn’t entirely escape; her father kept drifting in to read her bits from the guidebook until finally she could stand no more.
She knew that she could not say anything to them tonight; she had to have a chance to think first. It wasn’t that she had any intention of taking Damon up on his insulting and horrifying proposition, but there had to be a way of telling Ben and Ginny with reasonable gentleness that the hotel would not be sold, after all. It was just going to take some calm thought to find it, and so she turned off the comedy that she’d been mindlessly staring at and went to say goodnight to her parents.
Ginny looked at her with startled concern. “But it’s so early, darling. Did you get too much sun today?” she asked solicitously. “Perhaps an aspirin and a cool bath would help.”
There aren’t enough pain-killers and gallons of water in the world to help, Lacey thought, unless I take an overdose or drown myself...
“Would you like me to come up and rub your back?”
Lacey shook her head emphatically and made a quick escape, and didn’t know whether to be glad or sorry that her mother didn’t follow her upstairs. She was happy not to have to deal with any more questions, of course, but, on the other hand, if the thought of Arizona was casting such a strong lure that it could actually overcome Ginny’s maternal instinct, it was going to be even harder to tell her that it now lay out of her reach.
But the quiet darkness of Lacey’s own room was no more conducive to thought than the senseless noise of the television had been. Every time she closed her eyes she could feel the urgent pressure of Damon’s mouth against hers and the way his body had seemed to burn an impression onto her soft skin. And, though she finally slept, it was to wake with a jerk over and over again from dreams that she couldn’t quite remember, but which she knew she would not want to analyze even if she could recall the details.
In the morning she looked five years older. “As if I’m due for a facelift,” she told her mirror. “Well, that’s one sure way to handle Damon — keep this up for a couple of weeks, and he won’t be interested anymore.”
The problem was, she might not have a couple of weeks. He hadn’t put a deadline on his offer, but the matter couldn’t be left hanging in limbo for long, or her father was going to start asking questions. And before that time came, Lacey knew she not only had to figure out what she was going to tell him about the sale falling through, but have some alternative plan to present for the hotel as well.
So she left a note on the breakfast table for her mother, who was still asleep, and went to work at an hour when the sun was still peering weakly over the horizon.
The yellow rose in the crystal vase on her desk had drooped and died over the weekend. “Poor thing,” Lacey said. “You didn’t have a fair chance, either, did you?” She touched it with a gentle finger, and a couple of withered petals dropped on to the blotter. This, she thought, is what Damon would do to me.
Not that he would intend to, exactly — but the effect would be the same.
She took from her desk drawer the folder that held the notes she had made last week about the renovation project and started all over again.
When her father’s secretary tapped on the door a couple of hours later, Lacey was so absorbed in her calculations that she didn’t hear. The secretary put her head in. “Miss Clinton, there’s a telephone call for you. And I’ve got those statistics you wanted.”
Lacey put her pen down reluctantly and reached automatically for the telephone. “Who’s calling?” she asked belatedly.
“Mr. Kendrick.”
Lacey wanted to swear. But she had already lifted the receiver; it was too late to instruct the woman to tell him that Miss Clinton had just stepped out to Tahiti and she’d be back in a year or two.
The secretary picked up the crystal vase. “I’ll get rid of this for you.”
“No! Leave it.” The secretary looked stunned at the sharp tone of Lacey’s voice, so she said, more gently, “I think I’ll press it. It’s a special rose.”
“What color is it?” Damon asked. His voice seemed to tickle her ear.
“Why on earth would you want to know?”
“Because in case it was a man who gave it to you, I wouldn’t want to repeat his gesture.”
“Believe me, Damon,” she said crossly, “I’m not likely to confuse you with anyone else.”
He laughed. “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Have you made up your mind yet?”
She tightened her grip on the telephone, and wished that it was his throat. “Yes. Remember? I told you yesterday that I’m not interested.”
“Oh, you’re interested all right. But we won’t argue that. Obviously you haven’t talked to your father this morning.”
Her voice came out in a sort of horrified squeak. “Do you mean you have?”
“Oh, it wasn’t much more than a social call. Don’t worry; I didn’t tell him anything about our discussion yesterday.”
“Then what did you tell him?”
“Why don’t you ask Ben? Of course, you should be careful not to arouse his curiosity too much, unless you plan to bare your soul altogether.”
“It would serve you right if I did tell him about your indecent little offer.”
“But you aren’t going to, or you would have already done it. Why haven’t you told him, anyway? An interesting question — I’ve been thinking about it all morning. I’m going to be out of the office today, Lacey, but I’ll instruct my secretary that if you call, it’s of the ultimate importance that she find me no matter what.”
“Don’t bother. I’m not going to call, today or ever.”
“I’ll tell her anyway. Just in case,” he said softly, and then there was only the soft buzz of a dead line against her ear.
She slammed the telephone receiver down so hard she thought she’d broken it and stormed down the hall to her father’s office. At the door she paused and gave herself a mental shake. “You can’t go flying in there like a team of inquisitors,” she muttered, and took a deep breath. Tact, that was what was going to be required here.
Her father was reading the latest issue of a hotel-management publication. At least, Lacey thought, it wasn’t Arizona Highways.
She dropped into the chair beside his desk and said, “You know, Dad, I’ve been thinking a lot the past few days. And I’ve decided that perhaps I was being a little hasty last week in deciding to get out of the hotel business.”
Her father’s eyebrows climbed steeply up his forehead. “Don’t you think it’s a bit late for second thoughts? Damon’s not going to be happy if you change your mind.”
Daddy, she thought, you don’t know the half of it!
She took a deep breath. “I realize that I didn’t give the renovation fair consideration. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to look into it a little further. We should talk to the bankers, at least. Even if we decided in the end not to go ahead with it ourselves, having the information couldn’t hurt. It would certainly make the deal look better to a buyer.”
“But we have a buyer, Lacey. And knowing Damon and his habit of being ready for all possibilities, he probably had all the blueprints drawn two years ago. Why go to all that effort to duplicate his work?”
Lacey swallowed hard. “Well, why should we limit ourselves to one possible buyer?” she asked determinedly. “There are other chains. One of Damon’s competitors might bid more just to take it away from him. Not for the sake of thumbing their noses at him, exactly, but because it’s the best way to compete with him right in his own territory.”
“Lacey, I don’t know why you’ve suddenly decided Damon shouldn’t have this hotel, but—”
“I’m not sure I trust him, that’s all. Has he told you what he plans to do with it?”
“Not exactly. But I wouldn’t expect him to, until the papers are signed.”
“See? He might just skip the renovation and turn it into...” She rummaged around in her mind, but she couldn’t think of anything quite horrible enough.
“A house of ill fame?” her father asked with a wry smile. “No, Lacey. He told me just this morning that he was sure I’d be happy with the outcome.”
Lacey closed her eyes in pain.
“Daddy, please,” she whispered. “Let’s talk to the bankers, at least. It’s not as if you’ve already made a deal with Damon, after all.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “You know how much I’ve always hated to refuse you, don’t you, Lacey? Very well—if it will make you feel better, we’ll talk to the bankers. But I think it would only be fair to warn Damon that we’re having second thoughts about selling.”
That ought to amuse him greatly, Lacey thought bitterly.
THE GROUP OF VICE-PRESIDENTS of First Federal Bank who were gathered in the conference room in the gleaming new glass and steel building represented more lending power than Lacey had ever dreamed it was possible to put together at one table. She knew that winning them over would be a public relations victory larger and more important than any she had ever attempted before, and she had spent two days gathering her figures and rehearsing her presentation until it was letter-perfect.
Now, as she drew to a conclusion, she pushed her papers together, folded her hands on top of them and looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each of the five men and two women in turn.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, and let her voice drop to a soft, compelling plea, “I speak of the need for this renovation project out of personal knowledge. I spent last night as a guest in the Clinton Hotel, experiencing the same things that our guests do. And I must tell you honestly that by the standards of today’s traveler, the Clinton no longer has the edge of comfort and elegance that it always has boasted. Last night I discovered—”
Last night, she thought, while her words went on smoothly in that well-rehearsed speech. The very mention of last night was like a thorn in her side. For one thing, as soon as she had time, she intended to find out which of the Clinton’s employees was doubling as Damon Kendrick’s spy. It was obvious that he had one, for how else could he have learned that she was spending the night in the hotel?
She had been curled up with her notes, sipping a cup of almost-hot room-service tea, when the bedside telephone rang shortly before midnight. She answered a bit warily, thinking it might be the front desk with a problem.
Damon said, “So you took my suggestion to check the hotel out firsthand, did you?”
“And how did you happen to hear about it?”
“You know how information flies in this business. I hope you’re having a pleasant stay.”
“To be honest, not particularly. The bathroom is damned inconvenient, and there’s no reading light by the bed. When I rip into this place, you can bet that I’ll make sure...”
“I could come over,” he said promptly. “I can’t do much about the bathroom, but if I were there you wouldn’t need the reading light.”
“Thanks, anyway,” Lacey said tartly.
“Besides, two heads are better than one when it comes to looking for problems, and since most people travel in pairs, you could really get the full effect that way. For example, it’s hard to tell if a bed is comfortable for two people if there’s only one in it.”
She had hung up on him, but she’d had the uncomfortable feeling that he’d been laughing at her all the time.
