Leslie Kelly – Suite Seduction (страница 2)

Not to mention her butt-ugly dress.

ROBERT KENDALL felt a trickle of sweat slide from his hairline, through the slight indentation at his temple, and on down his cheek. The din of conversation and tinkling glasses in the crowded hotel bar receded as he focused on his companion, Monica Winchester. And what she’d just handed him. “Your room key?”

Of course it was her room key. He stared dumbly at the small object as if it was a venomous insect about to inject poison into the vulnerable flesh of his right palm.

“I was hoping for a more…enthusiastic response.”

Swallowing hard, Robert finally looked at the other item, the small square on which the key rested. The foil package was unmistakable. Not his brand. Probably not his size. But absolutely recognizable.

“You haven’t said anything.” Monica’s voice gained an edge. “Surely you aren’t surprised by this.”

He looked at the woman seated across from him at the lounge table. Not surprised? How could he not be surprised that his boss’s daughter had handed him her room key—and a condom—and practically ordered him to show up in her room that night?

“Come on, Robert, we’re two consenting adults. We’re in a strange city, stuck in this drafty old hotel for who knows how long. Why don’t we enjoy ourselves while we can?”

Robert stifled the first answer that popped into his head: Gee, maybe because the last Winchester Hotels employee you enjoyed yourself with ended up on the unemployment line.

Instead, he stalled, picking up his vodka tonic and bringing the glass to his lips. He sipped, his mind working overtime to think of a graceful way out of this predicament.

“Monica, obviously I’m flattered,” he said, knowing a lot of men in his situation would jump at what she offered. No question, the woman had an earthy, direct sexiness that would appeal to a lot of men—until they got to know her. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix pleasure with business.”

Monica Winchester, obviously not used to being turned down, waved her hand in disregard. “I’m barely involved in the business. I talked my way into this trip for one reason only.”

Robert’s eyes narrowed as she confirmed his suspicion about her motives for insisting she come to Philadelphia with him to check out the Kerrigan Towers. “I wondered about that.”

She smiled broadly. In the dim light of the smoky room her white teeth were predatory. “You’re my father’s golden boy, Robert. The son he’s never had. He relies on you and would like nothing better than for you to become a part of his family. Why do you think he’s been trying so hard to set us up?”

“Pairing us at dinner parties and inviting me for holidays isn’t quite the same as handing me a condom and a room key,” Robert said as he gestured to the waiter for another drink.

She chuckled. “It’s not like it’s an engagement ring. Why can’t we test the waters, see if we’re compatible?”

“Couples generally see if they’re compatible by going out on a few dates, catching a movie, maybe some dinner.”

“I’m not going to waste time having dinner with a man who doesn’t cut it for me in bed.”

Before the waiter could place the fresh drink on the table, Robert grabbed the glass and downed a third of its contents.

“I’ve surprised you.” Her amused tone annoyed him no small amount. “Listen, I have a few calls to make, then I plan to take a hot bubble bath. You stay here, have a drink or two, and come up when you’re ready. My room number’s on the key tag.”

“Monica…” he said as she stood and reached for her bag.

“Don’t say anything now you might regret later, Robert.” He wondered if he heard a threat in her voice. Sleep with me or I’ll get my daddy to fire you? It seemed ridiculous, of course. Ridiculous, but not impossible.

“I’ll see you later.” Not content to just walk away, she bent over and lightly kissed him. “Don’t disappoint me.”

A half hour and an additional drink later, Robert glanced at his watch, debating his course of action. Going to her room was out of the question. He could not have a one-night stand with James Winchester’s daughter. The man had earned Robert’s respect in the eight years they’d worked together. He’d trusted Robert from the first, when he’d been another fresh-from-Grad-school know-it-all who wanted to change the world. Or own it.

Maybe he hadn’t changed the world, but he had helped mold Winchester Hotels into the fastest-rising chain in the country. Not bad for a country boy from North Carolina, who’d never even stayed in a classy hotel until he’d graduated from college.

His parents hadn’t understood his need to get away, to go live in New York City, of all places, leaving behind his five siblings, assorted aunts, uncles and cousins, and the family auto repair business. But Robert had been born with wandering feet, with dreams of building things, maybe even with a bit of a shark’s killer instinct.

Those qualities had served him well in his years working for Winchester Hotels. And James Winchester was not cheap about showing his appreciation. Plus, Robert genuinely liked the man. He couldn’t repay him by sleeping with his “little angel.”

Standing the little angel up, however, seemed infinitely more dangerous. Especially now, during a delicate scouting expedition of this grand old Philadelphia hotel. The Kerrigan Towers would transition nicely into a Winchester Hotel. But not if Monica threw a fit and sabotaged their critical meeting with the current owners the next morning. If she walked in playing corporate prima donna, the board, most of them members of the Sinclair family, would close ranks and fight the inevitable.

One thing he could not do was sit in the bar any longer. Dropping a tip on the table, he left the lounge and entered the deserted corridor. Working in the business had him paying attention to all the details other guests would never notice. The pale blue carpet in the hall was worn—clean, but threadbare after years of being walked upon by the hotel’s elite clientele. The plastered ceiling was yellowed, showing signs of spidery cracks that had been hastily repaired. He took mental note that the walls needed paint, and the rickety elevator groaned like an overworked old woman. Heck, even rooms in need of electronic keys to replace the archaic metal ones, like the one burning a hole in the right pocket of his sports coat!

The Kerrigan Towers was ripe for the plucking. And Robert had come to Philadelphia to pluck.

Noticing the lobby was deserted, he decided to do some snooping. Robert knew exactly where he needed to go. One of the most important spots to investigate in any hotel was the kitchen. He’d seen dozens of seemingly elegant establishments with ovens dirtier than any 24-hour roadside diner.

Since his reason for visiting the Kerrigan was hush-hush, at least until tomorrow’s board meeting, he certainly couldn’t ask for a tour. Now, just after midnight, seemed a good time to investigate. No one would be around, no one would be the wiser.

Robert slipped stealthily into the closed restaurant. Dodging between the backs of cushioned chairs, he took note of his surroundings. So far so good. The floor looked pristine. The air smelled sweet of fresh-cut flowers and well-prepared food. A hint of pine cleanser also indicated cleanliness, without being cloying or antiseptic.

Pushing quietly through the swinging doors, he looked around, assessing how well he could see in the darkened kitchen. But the room wasn’t completely dark. In the far corner, he saw a single light burning, and wondered if it was left on as a security measure. Walking gingerly on the tile floor to avoid making any noise, he made his way toward the light.

A hiccuping sob told him he was not alone.

“Please let me forget what an absolute fool I made of myself tonight!”

He froze.

“Please let me close my eyes and pretend I’m not a whiny, pathetic woman in an ugly green dress.”

Hidden in the shadows of a huge wall oven, Robert studied the woman sitting at a worktable beneath the single light.

Her dress really was damn ugly.

She, however, was quite lovely. She sat on a stool in front of a large, butcher-block table, where the chef probably worked when the restaurant was open. Her bare feet rested on the top rung of the stool, and her dress was haphazardly gathered in a mound of green fluff on her lap. Her legs were enough to stop his breath. Sweet, so sweet, encased in what appeared to be white thigh-high stockings that ended with a flirtatious bit of lace just below the edge of her hefted-up gown.

“Maybe one more bite,” the woman muttered. Robert bit the inside of his cheek to stop a laugh as he saw her plunge a fork into about half of what had once been a very large chocolate cake. She brought a portion to her mouth, letting out a pleased sigh as she bit off little pieces of it. Her tongue flicked out to lick the icing from the metal tines of the fork, and Robert had to swallow hard to contain the moan of appreciation he felt sure was going to spill across his lips.

She closed her eyes, dropping her head back, and he continued studying her, noting the long, smooth line of her throat, the generous curve of her hip, and the indentation of her waist in the tight dress. Not to mention the gorgeous, full breasts so magnificently displayed in the low-cut gown.