Peggy Moreland – The Texan's Contested Claim: The Texan's Contested Claim / The Greek Tycoon's Secret Heir (страница 2)
The bell rang a third time, making her jump. She blew out a breath, then pasted on a cheerful smile and swung open the door.
“Hi,” she said and extended her hand in greeting. “You must be Garrett. I’m Ali, the innkeeper of Vista Bed and Breakfast.”
He stared, the oddest expression coming over his face, but didn’t make a move to take her hand.
She took a closer look at him. “You
The question seemed to snap him from his trancelike state.
“Sorry,” he said and took her hand. “It’s just that you look very much like…someone I know.”
A tingle of awareness skittered up her arm as his fingers closed around hers. Surprised by the sensation—and not at all sure she liked it—she broke the connection.
“You know what they say,” she said, with a careless shrug. “Everyone has a twin.”
He got that odd look on his face again and she inwardly groaned, thinking it was going to be a
“Come on in,” she said and opened the door wider. “You’ll have to pardon the mess,” she warned, thinking it best to prepare him for the disaster that awaited them in the den. “You caught me in the middle of clearing away my Christmas decorations.”
He stepped past her, trailing the seductive scent of sandalwood in his wake. “I hope my arriving early isn’t an inconvenience. I had my pilot fly me in earlier than I’d originally planned.”
He had his own pilot? Which probably meant he had his own plane, too. Unable to imagine that kind of wealth or the freedom it offered, she swallowed an envious sigh. “No problem.” She glanced out the door toward the rental car parked in her driveway. “Do you need help with your luggage?”
He pulled off his sunglasses, looking around as he tucked them into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’ll get it later, if that’s all right.”
When he met her gaze again, sans the sunglasses, she felt that same tingle of awareness she’d experienced when he’d clasped her hand, only this time he hadn’t touched her.
“Oh, wow,” she breathed, finding it all but impossible to look away.
“Excuse me?”
“Your eyes,” she said. “I didn’t notice until you took off your glasses. They’re brown. That rich, dark, melted chocolate kind of brown. And when the light hits them just right—” she opened and closed the door, varying the amount of light striking his face “—these little gold flecks flash like tiny explosions of light.”
He reached inside his jacket. “I can put them back on, if it bothers you.”
Realizing she was making a fool of herself, she offered him a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” she said, as she closed the door. “I tend to get carried away about lighting. It’s one of the curses of being a photographer. This way,” she said, and motioned for him to follow her. “I’ll give you a quick tour of the downstairs, then take you up to your room.
“Formal living room and dining room,” she said, gesturing left and right as she moved down the hall. “You’re welcome to use both, but most of my guests prefer the coziness of the den and breakfast room at the rear of the house. There’s a beautiful view of Town Lake through the windows there.”
She paused to point to a closed door at the end of a short hall. “That’s the entrance to my private living quarters. It’s the only portion of the house that’s off-limits to guests.”
He stopped beside her. “I noticed on your Web site that you cater to businessmen.” He angled his head to peer at her. “I believe the blurb read something like, ‘the Vista, where
The emphasis he placed on “all,” as well as his suggestive tone, put Ali’s back up. “If you’re thinking the Vista is a front for a call girl service,” she informed him tersely, “you’re wrong.”
“I didn’t say it was,” he returned mildly.
“Well, just so you understand, I provide my clients with nothing more than comfortable accommodations, home-cooked meals and workspace should they need it.”
“Which is all I expect,” he assured her. “I was merely curious why a woman who lives alone would prefer men as guests.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I never said I lived alone.”
“You didn’t have to. Your repeated use of ‘my’and ‘I’ made it obvious.”
When she continued to eye him suspiciously, he dropped his hands to his hips, and the corners of his mouth into a frown.
“Look,” he said, clearly irritated with her. “If you’re worried about your safety, don’t be. You’re perfectly safe with me. I’m not interested in you
She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or insulted, but one thing was certain—she’d angered her guest…something a person in her business couldn’t afford to do.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. “I’m usually not this defensive.”
“And I’m not usually mistaken for a predator,” he snapped back at her.
She squinched up her nose. “Can we hit Rewind?” she asked hopefully. “It seems we’ve gotten off to a bad start.”
“If it makes you feel better thinking our relationship will improve by starting over—” he tossed up a hand “—then by all means consider the tape rewound.”
To prove her willingness to play nice, she forced a smile. “Thanks. And to answer your question about my preference for business travelers, this is my home, as well as a bed-and-breakfast, and I discovered early on that businessmen are less disruptive to my daily life than tourists. Since they generally book only on weekdays, that’s an advantage, too, as it leaves my weekends free for my other job.”
He lifted a brow. “Other job?”
“Photography. I’m an aspiring photojournalist.”
“A woman of many talents.”
“You might want to withhold judgment until you see my work,” she warned, then smiled again and motioned him to follow her. “Come on, let’s finish the tour.”
She started down the hall again toward the kitchen. “In the mornings, you’ll find juice and coffee on the buffet in the breakfast room. I normally serve breakfast at seven on weekdays and eight on weekends, but since you’re my only guest, you can choose a different time, if you like.”
“Your current schedule is fine.”
“The den is through here,” she said, and led the way through an arched doorway. She stopped, her shoulders sagging at the amount of work awaiting her. “Welcome to the after-Christmas nightmare,” she said wearily.
“Damn,” he murmured, staring, then glanced her way. “Do you decorate every room in the house?”
“Pretty much. My friends accuse me of trying to make up for my dismal childhood Christmases.”
“Dismal?”
“A tabletop Christmas tree and one present dispensed on Christmas Eve just before bedtime.”
“Were your parents poor?”
She choked a laugh. “Hardly. More like boring.” Doubting her guest was interested in hearing about her dysfunctional family, she pointed to the antique armoire, all but concealed by the wreaths stacked high in front. “Believe it or not, there’s a flat screen television hiding behind that pile of greenery. You’re welcome to watch TV here or in your room, whichever you prefer. I have a wireless network, so you can connect to the Internet anywhere inside the house, as well as the patios outside.
“Both the front and back doors have a keyless entry,” she went on to explain. “I change the code every couple of weeks for security purposes. That’s about it downstairs,” she said and gestured toward a set of stairs on the far side of the room. “We’ll take the rear staircase to the second floor.”
When she reached the top landing, she headed for the opposite end of the hall. “You can have your pick of the bedrooms,” she told him, “but since you’re staying a month, I think the suite will better suit your needs. It has a separate sitting room, with a minifridge and bar. Plus, the bathroom is larger than the others, and has a tub perfect for soaking—a bonus, if you enjoy taking long baths.”
She pushed open the door to the suite then stepped back out of the way. “Unless you have any questions, I’ll leave you to settle in.”
“Just one.”
“What?”
“When my secretary made my reservations, she asked that you keep my stay here confidential.”
She held her hand up like a good Girl Scout. “I haven’t told a soul.”
“Good. No one can know I’m here.”
She teased him with a smile. “Why? Are the cops after you?”
He seemed to hesitate a moment, then shook his head. “No. I’m here to check out locations for a future expansion for my company. It’s imperative that my presence, as well as my plans, remain secret until I’m ready to go public.”
She drew an imaginary zipper across her mouth. “Your secret is safe with me. Anything else?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Well, if you think of something, I’ll be in the den dealing with the ghost of Christmas past.”
Garrett shook his head as he crossed to the bathroom to put away his shaving kit, unable to believe how close he’d come to blowing his cover. When Ali had opened the door to greet him, her likeness to his stepmother had momentarily rendered him speechless. The same blond hair and blue eyes, the same delicate features. They even had similar mannerisms, which he found inconceivable, since the two had never met.