Backfire
Hard. It was a good word to describe Chase McAllister. Despite the heartbreaker smile that told her he knew just what effect he had on women, there had been something hot and dangerous in his eyes when her father had introduced them. While working with a man like him might prove exciting, it would be unsettling.
Not that she was likely to have to worry about that problem. Madeline stifled a groan. After her remarks today, she doubted he would keep her on the hotel’s staff. She probably should just resign and get it over with. She was good at her job. She could hire on at one of the other hotels in the city. Heaven knew there were enough of them, new ones popping up like crazy since the opening of the casino. That’s why she had arranged to meet Kyle for breakfast, to ask for his help.
But the thought of working anyplace else made her want to weep. She loved the Saint Charles. It was in her blood. The hotel…the people, they were like family. She hated the thought of leaving. How could she just walk away?
Why should she have to? The stubborn voice inside her asked. She had more right to be here than Chase McAllister did. Why should she make it easy for him and his firm to take over her family’s hotel?
She wouldn’t, Madeline vowed. Not without a fight. She wasn’t going to quit. She wasn’t going to run away and hide. If Chase McAllister wanted her out, then he was going to have to fire her. Tipping up her chin, she slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder and headed back into the garden room where McAllister was speaking.
“Majestic Hotels is pleased to add the venerable Saint Charles Hotel to its family of fine, luxury properties…”
At the rear of the room, Madeline listened to Chase deliver his speech in that deep, authoritative voice of his. The fact that he had memorized his remarks and not used any notes was a nice touch, she conceded. So was that devilish smile that he kept flashing at the audience. From the looks on peoples’ faces—particularly the female ones—it was working.
“…and who better to have as our partner than Henri Charbonnet, the gentleman whose family founded the hotel. I’m personally looking forward to working with Henri—” His amused gaze swept over the crowd and halted when he reached her. He paused, staring at her long moments. “And with his daughter Madeline.”
Madeline glared at him. He was lying through his pretty white teeth and she knew it.
As though he could read her thoughts, Chase smiled at her then. His mouth curved in the most wicked smile. It was warm and deep, intimate, the type of knowing smile a man might share with his lover. The effect was delectable, captivating…and disturbing.
“Handsome fellow, isn’t he?”
Madeline swung her gaze to the pregnant woman standing beside her. Chloe James. Friends all of their lives, Chloe was the closest thing to a sister she had. Chloe had always been the adventuresome one of the two, and right now Madeline didn’t trust the silly grin pasted on her face. “Chloe, I didn’t see you standing there.”
“Yes. I know. You were too busy drooling over the hunk.”
“I’m not going to even dignify that with a denial.”
Ignoring her, Chloe went on, “Not that I blame you now. He really is good-looking, and that smile. Lord, it’s enough to make a girl’s knees go weak. The man certainly is sexy. Don’t you agree?”
“If you like his type,” Madeline replied as nonchalantly as she could. Not for the life of her would she admit that her own stomach had done a flip-flop before she had reminded herself just who he was.
The other woman chuckled. “Madeline, darling, regardless of what your type is, a woman would have to be dead not to notice a man like him.”
Madeline arched her brow at her friend. “Need I remind you that you’re a married woman, Chloe James? And a pregnant one at that? I wonder what Paul would have to say if he heard you?”
Chloe wrinkled her pert nose at Madeline. “Lighten up, Maddie. I didn’t say I was going to take him home with me—not that I wouldn’t be tempted to. I’m just saying he’s easy on the eyes. You have to admit he’s a lot different from the sort of fellows we used to date.”
He was different from the men she usually dated, Madeline admitted. For one thing, Chase McAllister didn’t have her ex-fiancé’s polished good looks. Chase’s dark blond hair was a tad too long, brushing the collar of his shirt, to be fashionable. His bone structure was good, and he certainly knew how to fill out a suit. But his skin was too deeply tanned for a man who supposedly spent his days behind a desk. And while his mouth curved into the most enticing smile, the scar that slashed across his chin ruined any chance of him being considered handsome—at least not in a conventional way.
“There’s something about him,” Chloe said. “Sort of…untamed. Makes a girl wonder what he’d be like in bed.”
“Chloe!”
“Oh, all right. I’ll shut up. But you have to admit he is sexy. Especially when he smiles.”
And he certainly knew how to use that smile, Madeline decided, watching him charm the guests.
Chloe sighed. “You’re lucky. You get to work side by side with him.”
“Funny, but I don’t think of myself as lucky at all.”
Chloe’s expression sobered. “I’m sorry, Madeline. I guess I wasn’t thinking. I know how much you loved this place.”
“I still love it.” Madeline shrugged. “Don’t pay any attention to me. It’s not like my father sold out completely. At least I still get to work here.” That is, if she still had a job in the morning.
“Now, ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy yourselves,” her father said after Chase had turned the microphone back over to him. “Eat, drink and enjoy.”
Ten minutes later Madeline set aside her untouched glass of champagne and started to work her way toward the exit. Her head was pounding, and if she had to keep the smile plastered on her face a moment longer, she was afraid her muscles would lock in the position permanently.
“If you want people to really believe you’re happy about this merger, you’re going to have to do better than that tight little smile you’ve been wearing.”
Madeline whirled around, nearly knocking the champagne glass out of Chase’s hand. She hadn’t even heard him come up behind her. The realization unsettled her…almost as much as the man himself. “I’m not happy about the merger, Mr. McAllister. So, why should I pretend that I am?”
“Because it’s important to your father that people not know the real reason he sold an interest in the hotel.”
It was true. Her father had told everyone that Chase’s firm had approached him, offering him a ridiculous sum of money for an interest in the hotel. He had claimed the deal had been too good to turn down—especially when he would remain at the helm of the hotel. He had bragged how he would use someone else’s money to renovate the Saint Charles and increase his investment at the same time. But the truth was he wouldn’t have been able to keep the hotel open for much longer without the influx of cash from Chase’s firm. From what her father had finally told her, the bills had been piling up for months. Not that she would admit that to Chase. Changing the subject, she asked, “What’s wrong with my smile?”
“It’s as phony as a three-dollar bill.”
“You mean like yours?” she tossed back.
Chase laughed, making deep grooves in his lean cheeks. And Madeline felt her stomach quiver in response. How could she abhor this man and find him attractive at the same time?
“No. Mine’s much better. I’ve got the phony smile down to an art. Part of my upbringing, you might say. Most people can’t tell the difference.”
But she could. She had known right away when he had smiled at her that it was genuine, not that fake curving of his lips that he had used to charm the audience. But the smile had been far too intimate, and filled with a sexual interest that had left her breathless. “No doubt I’ll get better.”
“Not likely. Unless you can do something about those eyes.”
“What’s wrong with my eyes?” she demanded.
“Not a thing. They’re quite beautiful, in fact. Your best feature…aside from your skin. You’ve got the most incredible skin, Madeline Charbonnet.”
Madeline flushed. The air in her lungs seemed to grow shallow as his gaze skimmed over her. It was happening again. He hadn’t laid a finger on her, just looked at her. And yet her body tingled as though he had caressed her. Suddenly feeling vulnerable, she demanded, “So, what do my eyes have to do with perfecting the art of the ‘phony smile’ as you called it?”
“Everything. Yours are much too expressive.” He took a step closer, bringing them almost toe-to-toe. Madeline forced herself to hold his gaze and not to step back. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much his nearness unnerved her.
“You remember that old adage about eyes being the mirrors to the soul?” he asked. “Well, that’s what yours are. The mirror to your soul. They show everything you’re feeling. Everything.”
Madeline looked away, embarrassed. And no doubt her eyes had told him that she found him attractive. “Then I guess I’ll just take my phony smile and expressive eyes on home and let the expert take over,” she said in a voice dripping with sarcasm. She started to walk away.
Chase grabbed her arm before she could take the first step. He turned her around to face him. “I’m afraid you’ve waited a little too late for that. Your father’s headed this way with that nosy woman reporter, and they’ve got a photographer with them.”
Madeline tried to tug her arm free. “So? You and my father can be in the pictures. It’s his hotel. Not mine.”
“No, it’s not yours. But you wanted it. Still want it so bad you can taste it. I know all about wanting like that, Madeline.” His eyes grew dark, stormy.
Surprised by Chase’s reply, she stared at him, not knowing what to say. Did he feel sorry for her? Was it pity she saw in his eyes? She found that thought humiliating. She didn’t need his pity or want it. “What about my phony smile? And expressive eyes? Aren’t you afraid that my dislike for this merger and you will be apparent?”
“No. The pictures will probably be in black-and-white, so it won’t show. But if you’re worried,” he said, flashing another smile at her. “You can always give one of those sweet, sultry smiles you were using on the pretty boy in the Italian suit you were with.”
She frowned, wondering who he meant.
“Blow-dried hair, toothpaste grin.”
“Kyle?” Surprised by his comment, she didn’t even realize that he had taken her left hand and was studying it.
“You two lovers?”
“Of course not. He’s—” Furious with herself for responding, Madeline pulled her hand free. “That’s none of your business.”
Chase grinned. “That’s where you’re wrong. Everything about the hotel’s my business. But we’ll discuss that later. Right now you need to start smiling,” he said as the cameraman and others drew near. He leaned closer and whispered in her ear, “The sweet, sultry one, Madeline. Only this time pretend it’s for me.”
Two
He had to give her credit, Chase decided as Madeline’s lips curved up sweetly and she turned her face toward the camera. From the heated look she had leveled at him, she probably would have much preferred to slug him.
Not that he blamed her. After all, he had been the one to provoke her. He wasn’t even sure why he had done it, except that the anguish in those expressive eyes of hers had caught him off guard.
And it had made him feel guilty as hell. Feeling guilty had disturbed him, even spooked him a little—almost as much as his wanting her did.
His questions about her relationship had been out of line and he knew it. For some reason, knowing she would be meeting the guy in the morning had irritated him, like a pesky mosquito bite. But her response had pleased him.
“Great,” the reporter said as the photographer fired off another shot. “Now why don’t we take one with Madeline in the center and, Henri, you stand over here and, Mr. McAllister, you—”
“Chase,” he corrected, earning another warm look from the snoopy reporter, along with a glare from Madeline.
“…and Chase,” the woman amended. “You stand right here next to Madeline. Now smile everyone.”
The smile on Madeline’s lips wasn’t the same sultry one she had given the pretty-boy stiff with the manicured nails and three-hundred-dollar tie.
But it had the same effect. It had him wondering if her mouth was as sweet and soft and warm as it looked.
Not that he had any intention of finding out, Chase conceded as he slanted his mouth into a grin for the camera. Putting the deal together to buy into the Saint Charles had been difficult enough, especially considering his personal stake in the project. The last thing he needed was the complications a personal involvement with Madeline Charbonnet would create.
Because there would be complications. She came wrapped in an expensive package with a fancy pedigree. And while he might have learned to appreciate the finer things in life, he was strictly an off-the-rack kind of guy. As for his lineage, he would be hard-pressed to even trace his bloodlines back to his father, let alone generations of aristocrats. But even if those things didn’t factor in, the fact that she was Henri Charbonnet’s daughter did. That, in itself, made the notion of any relationship between them not only risky but downright foolish.
Tasting the champagne the waiter had provided, Chase waited for the photographer to stage the next shot and stole another glance at Madeline’s legs. But darned if the idea wasn’t tempting.
“Okay, everyone, lift your glasses in a toast to the new partnership,” the reporter instructed.
As he raised his glass, Chase caught Madeline’s eye. “To the partnership,” he said, tapping his glass against hers. His grin widened at the quick spark of anger in her green eyes that preceded the camera’s flash. He had no doubts that she would love to dump the contents of her glass over his head.
Chase laughed to himself. There was little chance of anything developing between them as long as she was furious with him. And dealing with Madeline Charbonnet spitting fire at him would be a lot safer.
“Thank you, Bitsy,” Henri said, moving over to the reporter after the photographer finished the shots. “When do you think the story and the photos will be in the paper?”
“I’m going to try for the Friday edition.”
“Excellent. And, of course, I want you to be the one who does the follow-up story on the renovations. Did I tell you they’re going to be quite extensive? Every suite in the hotel is being redone,” Henri said as he led the reporter away.
Chase turned back to Madeline who handed the waiter her untouched glass of champagne.
“What’s the matter? House brand doesn’t suit your taste buds, either?”
“What are you talking about?”
Chase took another sip from his glass. “I mean your father wanted to serve Dom Pérignon for the reception today. He wasn’t at all happy at being informed that he would have to settle for the house brand.”
“My father likes the best,” Madeline said, tossing up her chin another notch. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“No. Not if you can afford it.” He waited for her to fill the silence. When she didn’t, he asked, “What about you, Madeline? You have your father’s expensive tastes, too?”
He wasn’t being fair, goading her like this and he knew it. But then, he hadn’t counted on being moved by sad green eyes and a kissable mouth. The fact that he found her attractive was bad enough. He couldn’t afford to feel sympathy for Madeline Charbonnet, too. He was much better off having her spitting fire at him.
Or in this case ice…because the look she directed at him could freeze water on a hot July day. “I prefer to think of myself as discerning. Just because something comes with a fancy label doesn’t necessarily mean it’s the best.”
“No, it doesn’t. Does it?” That cool, controlled smile of hers was like waving a red flag at a bull. He couldn’t resist it or the chance to rattle her the way she had him. Stepping closer, he reached over to set his glass down on the table behind her. He grinned at Madeline’s small intake of breath and the light shiver of awareness that ran through her. At least she was as conscious of him as he was of her, he thought, pleased by the discovery. Tempted to touch that satiny skin, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “And what about people and their jobs, Madeline?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, confusion clouding her eyes. Those eyes of hers really were a dead giveaway to what she was feeling.
“I was wondering if your convictions about fancy packaging extended to people and the jobs they perform within a company or say, a hotel.”
“Mr. McAllister, I’m afraid you’ve lost me. Just what is it you’re asking?”
He allowed his gaze to skim over her again. “I was wondering whether you believed a fancy package and job title makes one person or the job they do more important than another. For example, do you see your position as director of sales more important to the operation of this hotel than say…that busboy over there.”
Madeline’s spine stiffened. She curled her hands into fists at her side. “I’m not a snob, McAllister. Just because my father owns…owned the Saint Charles, doesn’t mean I consider myself or my position of any more or any less value than anyone else’s.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Because I’ll be meeting with key members of the hotel’s staff to define and evaluate their positions. I’ve put you down for tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”
“But I have a breakfast appointment—”
“Be there, Madeline. Nine o’clock. Unless, of course, you’d prefer to seek other employment.”
Without waiting for her reply, he turned and headed back into the reception room.
You’re a real bastard, McAllister, Chase told himself as he shook hands with some banker. But then, being a bastard was better than allowing the classy Ms. Madeline Charbonnet to sneak past his conscience and appeal to whatever noble instincts he might have. He wanted her, and wanting her was a weakness. And one of the first lessons he had learned living at St. Mark’s and the succession of foster homes that followed was people used your weaknesses against you if you let them.
Given half a chance, he had no doubt that Madeline Charbonnet with her silken skin and made-for-kissing mouth would slip right past his safeguards and cut his heart out if he gave her half a chance.
He had no intention of giving her that chance. Having Madeline hate him was not only safer, but would also make it a hell of a lot easier for him when he brought Henri Charbonnet down.
The jerk. The big arrogant jerk. Madeline was fuming as she glanced at her watch for a third time in as many minutes. He had forced her to cancel her breakfast meeting with Kyle, only to have his secretary call her at eight forty-five and postpone their meeting until two o’clock—which had forced her to reschedule her afternoon appointments, as well.
And now the louse had kept her waiting for over twenty minutes. It was probably another stupid ploy to keep her off balance. But this time she had no intention of letting him succeed.
Madeline tapped her nails impatiently on the thick folder resting on her lap. She could hardly wait to shove the sales forecast reports under his nose. Obviously when he’d left instructions for her to bring them to the meeting, he hadn’t expected her to be able to produce them so quickly.
Irritated, Madeline stood and paced the length of the office he had claimed for himself. The desk was piled high with a mountain of reports, computer printouts and financial statements. The man had certainly been busy in the last forty-eight hours. From what she had gleaned from the staff, he had spent little time in the suite of rooms he had confiscated as his living quarters. Evidently, when he wasn’t in his office, he was busy sticking his nose into all corners of the hotel’s operations.
One thing was certain. Chase McAllister had certainly made his presence felt at the hotel—at least among the female staff. If one more secretary or housekeeper used the word hunk in conjunction with his name, she would scream.
Slapping the folder against her leg, Madeline retraced her path across the room. Maybe she should have just stuck to her original game plan and resigned. In a city booming with convention business, it wouldn’t have taken her too long to find another job. Another job certainly would have been healthier than standing here contemplating ways to murder Chase McAllister.
If only she hadn’t allowed her father to extract a promise from her last night to stay on temporarily for the sake of appearances. Oh, face it, Madeline. The promise you gave your father isn’t the reason you stayed. She had stayed on out of sheer stubbornness and she knew it. Because resigning was just what Chase McAllister expected and probably wanted her to do. It was the only thing that explained the little scene he had engineered between them yesterday at the reception.
Well, she refused to give him the satisfaction. If he wanted her out of here, he was going to have to fire her. And she wasn’t going to make it easy for him to do it, either. She was very good at what she did, and she had the sales bookings to prove it. If the dirty rat thought her sales production would provide him with the necessary grounds for her termination, he had just better think again.
Madeline whirled around at the sound of the door opening and watched the rodent himself walk in holding a plastic foam container with two cups on top. Her heart did a quick tap dance that she steadfastly ignored. Instead, she decided to give the chauvinist a dose of his own medicine.
It’s payback time, McAllister, she thought silently, and made a point of looking him over the same way he had done her the previous day. Taking her time, she noted the scuff marks on his shoes, the smudges of something that resembled grease on the gray slacks that matched the jacket she had seen hooked behind the door. Enjoying herself, Madeline flicked her gaze over his white dress shirt rolled up to the elbows, to the opened collar which had lost its crispness as well as the tie that any self-respecting hotelier would have had neatly knotted around it.
She made a deliberately slow sweep over his chin and stamped down the questions and flicker of empathy the scar aroused. She continued her blatant perusal, resting momentarily on that wicked mouth of his that seemed to want to kick into a grin, before lifting her gaze to meet his.
The blue eyes that looked back at her were gleaming with amusement that matched the smile spreading across his lips.
Madeline gritted her teeth. The man was insufferable, she thought, irked that he had found her once-over tactics amusing, while she had found his so unnerving. “You’re late,” she told him, deliberately looking at her watch.
“Yeah, I know. Sorry about that. There was a problem with one of the water heaters, and I went to give maintenance a hand.” He kicked the door shut and walked over to the desk.
“I didn’t realize you were a plumber,” she said coolly.
He shrugged, the ice in her voice having no effect on him. “Not all of us are born into the hotel business, Princess. Some of us have to work our way up. It’s not a bad way to learn all the ins and outs of making the business work.” He set the container down and removed the two cups from atop it. “My first hotel job was as a busboy at fifteen. I moved up to waiter the following year. Have a seat.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk.
Wary, Madeline picked her way across the carpet and sat down in the chair he had indicated. She crossed her legs and caught the quirk of his lips as his eyes followed the movement. Madeline tugged on the hem of her skirt and wished the thing were several inches longer. “Mr. McAllister—”
“What about you?” he asked, taking his seat. “What was your first hotel job?”