Run for Covers

“He’s a lot more, from what I hear. I’ve got connections downtown, and I heard his firm pulled applications from the licensing department. Is he opening offices in town?”

Laura reached forward and turned the recorder off. She looked so serious that Tori’s reporter’s instincts went wild.

“If you want to discuss Dale,” she said, “it’ll have to be off the record. And I would like to know why you’re interested in my personal life. You’re covering the grand opening.”

“But my slant is you, and what you’re doing here. Tyler can go mainstream with his documentary, but I need to appeal to my readers. There’s a local angle here that’ll launch my story into the major leagues. I won’t pass it up.”

“Our family history.”

“The Fords and the Grangers together for the first time since Westfalls. Not to mention a romance resort in town that our conservative grandfather has been curiously silent about.”

“He’s not our grandfather. He might technically be my mother’s father, but I’ve never met the man. As far as your grandfather’s concerned, I don’t exist.”

Tori considered that for a moment to decide on her line of questioning. The history between their families was as much a draw around here as erotic artist Mireille Marceaux was a mystery. Their family connection was another card in her hand that she could play to make her coverage something special, and since she intended to capitalize on this local angle, it wouldn’t hurt to get Laura’s read on the whole deal.

“I don’t think that’s entirely true,” she said. “Our grandfather has acknowledged you.”

“How?”

“By his silence.”

Laura narrowed her crystal blue gaze. “The senator hasn’t been silent. He made a statement a long time ago.”

Tori shook her head. “The senator talked around you. He spouted stuff about supporting values of traditional couples and businesses that bring tourist dollars into our local economy. But that’s not endorsing a romance resort. He didn’t criticize it, either, and people noticed. I’m the municipal reporter in this town. I hear the gossip on my beat.”

“The senator didn’t attend Miranda’s wedding,” Laura pointed out. “I assumed that meant he didn’t want people to mistakenly think he was in contact with a Granger.”

“Grandfather didn’t attend Miranda’s wedding because the Senate got called into special session. He’d planned to come.”

Laura set her cup on the table and sat back in her chair, looking disbelieving. “Are you saying you think my involvement here might have something to do with him not taking a stand against the inn?”

“I think it’s possible. Think about it, Laura. You might be spinning sex from the romance angle, but you’re still spinning sex. There’s a reason he’s handling this inn the way he is, and I think you’re it.”

Tori didn’t give her a chance to think about the implications of that statement. She’d planted the seed and that was enough for now. Hopefully, the seed would take root, and Laura would want to talk some more about their family history. Until then, though, Tori had an opportunity to steer the conversation in another direction.

“So tell me, if your date is pulling permits to open an office in town, do I assume that means Falling Inn Bed has worked its magic on you and Dale Emerson?”

Laura’s careful expression melted away, and she got a soft look in her eyes. “Dale says the magic’s contagious, and no one who walks through our doors is exempt. Not our featured bridal couple. Not even the bedding consultant or the man who built the Wedding Wing.”

“Contagious, hm? Now that’s a theory I haven’t heard about.”

But it was one that had promise. Tori could use all the help she could get in her quest to get Adam to enjoy the grand opening celebration. And when Laura waxed poetic about marriage proposals on construction sites and falling in love with her handsome architect, Tori thought she might just stand a chance at helping the hunky assistant GM catch some magic.

ADAM HADN’T STOPPED running since he’d opened his eyes this morning, though Laura had left Sunday a free day in their Naughty Nuptials schedule to give their newlyweds a chance to rest after the excitement of the wedding day. Guests had been checking out all morning, while the inn staff had been regrouping for the week of Risqué Receptions events ahead.

Adam had been looking forward to working out and a break from Tori Ford, but instead had found himself cleverly roped into giving her a tour of the hotel when he caught up with her midmorning at Bruno’s place.

In the time since he’d last seen her, Adam had mentally reviewed all the reasons why he didn’t want to involve himself with a woman who believed in fun for fun’s sake, no matter how much his body urged him otherwise. He believed this little exercise had done the trick.

That was, of course, until he’d set eyes on her in a sundress that left her shoulders bare and too much cleavage swelling above the bodice. With red waves bouncing down her back as she moved past the hostess station, Adam had to admit that discipline wasn’t holding up in the face of the woman herself. Not when she caught sight of him, and her expression lit up. His pulse took a huge leap in tempo.

Steeling his spine, he forced a smile and asked, “How did your interview with Laura go?”

Slipping her arm through his, she moved close enough to accelerate his pulse a few more beats. “Great, thanks, but I’m stuffed. Remind me to stay out of this restaurant, or your chef will do some serious damage. I don’t want to have to go shopping for bigger sized clothes.”

Adam raked his gaze over her slim curves before he could stop himself and gave a short laugh. Nothing but perfection there. “Never fear, Ms. Ford. The spa’s cardiovascular schedule runs seven days a week.”

“Great minds and all that, Adam.” She tipped her head back to smile up at him and heaved a giant sigh that did amazing things to that swell of cleavage. “I’ll bet we could burn off lots of calories together.”

“Shall we go on a tour? Laura told me she took you through the Wedding Wing, but you haven’t seen the main hotel yet. I’ll be happy to show you.”

She pursed her lips in an exasperated moue, and he was pleased to sidestep at least one indecent proposal today.

“Thank you,” she said.

He directed her out onto the promenade. “I’m actually surprised Laura didn’t tour you around the whole property when you first arrived.”

“Oh, she offered, but I only let her show me the Wedding Wing. That’s her cupcake, after all.” Tori’s big blue eyes sparkled. “But I’m dying to see the original hotel, though. My sister and her husband stayed in the Roman Bagnio on their wedding night and to hear Troy tell it, he’d have enjoyed spending a few more nights there before flying off to Hawaii for their honeymoon. Think you can arrange to tour me through any of the inn’s original suites?”

Sure he could, but did he really want to be alone with her in suites with names like the Victorian Bordello, Sultan’s Seraglio and Demimondaine’s Boudoir?

No, yet he couldn’t help but be impressed at how neatly she twisted the situation around to corner him. Strategy he could respect, even when it meant postponing his workout even longer.

The woman was clever, he’d definitely give her that.

“I haven’t reviewed the audit reports yet, Ms. Ford, but we ran close to full occupancy last night. Seeing a suite might not be possible.”

“Today’s Sunday, and checkout was at noon. Surely some guests will have left by now. Can’t you slip me in for a peek?”

“Housekeeping’s scheduled after checkout.”

With her arm still locked through his, she tugged him around so they were headed back in the direction of the front desk. “Just check, please. For me.”

No wheedling, yet even so, Adam marveled at the way she managed to turn everything back around to what she wanted.

To be alone with him.

“I’ll check.” If only for a moment to put some distance between them and regain control of his pulse.

A trip behind the front desk almost did the trick until he found two suites recently vacated—the Red Light District and the Wild West Brothel. He considered claiming that none were available, but Adam wouldn’t lie—not even to spare himself a visit with this woman to the Red Light District, complete with spotlight, stage and chair suitable for a sexy lap dance.

“We’ll tour the Wild West Brothel.”

With any luck, the historically themed furnishings would distract this woman from the overt sexuality of the suite.

Then again, Adam wouldn’t get his hopes up. Not when Tori beamed at him across the counter and said, “Ride ’em, cowboy,” then led him up to the fifth floor herself.

“You’re familiar with the layout of the inn, I see,” he said dryly when she brought him right to the door with the appropriate shiny gold nameplate.

She gave a casual shrug that drew his gaze yet again to the red waves spilling over her shoulders and the delicate curve of her throat. “Wouldn’t be much of a reporter if I couldn’t find my way around without help.”

“No argument there.” He’d never met a more determined woman and he still had the memory of her in that see-through robe burned in his brain to prove it. Withdrawing his master keycard, he inserted it into the mechanism, unlocked the door and stepped inside to hold the door for his curious reporter.

Tori smiled up at him as she walked past and said, “Was that a compliment or a criticism, Adam?”

“A compliment, of course.” He injected some sincerity into his voice as the door shut with an absurd note of finality.

“Wouldn’t do to criticize the reporter responsible for your reviews, hm?”

He didn’t get a chance to reply before she came to an abrupt stop in the foyer and laughed. “Oh, my. Look at this place. This is as incredible as the Wedding Knight Suite. Not as elaborate, but, still, very impressive.”

Stepping inside this suite always made Adam feel as if he were walking onto the set of a John Wayne western. A bar served as the dining area and a long mirror mounted with steer horns graced the wall above. Walls paneled in rustic wood bore vintage posters of lustful couples for a welcoming bunkhouse look.

All the furniture had been scaled in size for two, and the leather sex swing hanging from the ceiling was the focal point of the room. Adam knew the bedroom was set up with a wax warmer and specialty sheet set, so guests could engage in sexy branding.

Tori’s observation skills were clearly on because there were indeed differences between this romance-themed suite, which had been fashioned to accommodate the original hotel structure, and those designed for the new Wedding Wing. Building from the ground up had given Laura and Dale the chance to create suites on a grand scale.

Creating fantasies, he’d heard Laura call it.

Which made Adam wonder—not for the first time—why he’d been so completely unprepared for the way sex affected the management around here. He’d researched Falling Inn Bed thoroughly before interviewing for the position. He’d seen all the press and had even toured the property. Yet he’d still not fully understood that the inn’s sexy theme would change the requirements and attitudes for upper management.

In his mind, all properties had qualities targeting specific clienteles, but just because a hotel catered to an island vacation crowd didn’t mean management worked in beachwear.

Maybe he’d just been too eager for a chance to become a stockholder in the Falling Inn Corporation. Or maybe he’d been so intent on leaving Seattle after his broken engagement that he hadn’t paid close enough attention to what was really taking place at this inn.

And as he watched the sex-crazed reporter inspect the romance-themed suite, Adam couldn’t help but think that his oversight in assessing the management—whatever the reason—was directly responsible for Tori Ford becoming the top item on his agenda.

“Did Laura design these suites, too?” she asked.

“Not to my knowledge. If memory serves, she came on the scene after Ms. J and her staff had acquired the property. Laura did tell me these suites inspired the ones in the Wedding Wing.”

“Even bigger and better fantasies. Mm-mm.” She took off into the bedroom, where he knew she’d find a bed with the Rope ’Em and Ride ’Em specialty sheets—complete with custom pockets filled with sex toys—and the bathroom that boasted a garden spa for couples.

Leaning against the bar, Adam passed on this part of the tour. No doubt Tori would use their close proximity to a bed to get a reaction from him, and he’d rather not give her another opportunity to play her game.

She didn’t need his help. She was getting enough of a reaction by doing nothing more than crossing the room to peer out the windows that overlooked the forested park leading to the Falls. The noon sun threw her into sharp relief, and Adam imagined he could see the faint outline of her body through her sundress. The memory of all those luscious curves from yesterday’s performance still burned too hot in his brain.

And then she scooted into the swing. The supple leather seat molded her shapely bottom as she started up another show…this time, one that prompted thoughts of what she’d feel like with her legs wrapped around him, weightless…

She pushed off, and her long bare legs stretched out as she rode backward in a smooth glide. Her body arced with the motion, her hair spilling out behind her, treating Adam to an image of what she might look like spread out horizontally for that calorie-burning exercise she’d mentioned earlier.

One of her sandals slipped off, clattering onto the wooden floor and drawing his gaze to the neatly manicured toes in some shade of ultrafeminine pink. She laughed, a carefree sound that contrasted sharply with the tension coiling tight inside him as his blood rushed hard in a direction in which it shouldn’t be rushing.

“This is a wonderful suite. Sex swings and those sheets.” She gave a low whistle. “I thought the set in my suite was wild. Have you ever played with restraints and warm wax, Adam?”

“No, Ms. Ford. I haven’t.”

She leaned back for another glide, this time arching her breasts high as the swing carried her backward. “Neither have I. Sounds like it might be fun.” The innuendo was in there and being the bold woman she was, Tori glanced at him with a smile just to make sure he was watching.

Adam was watching, all right. And reacting.

He’d have to be dead not to react to this woman, and he was very alive, as was his libido, which he’d obviously ignored for way too long.

She must have recognized his struggle because she slipped out of the swing, collected her sandal and headed his way, all sultry smiles and sexy purpose.

Adam stood his ground, refusing any show of weakness, not even a simple step backward when she sauntered right up to him and took over his personal space.

Sliding her fingers around his tie, she loosened the knot with a few easy motions and said, “Don’t you ever want to take a deep breath, Adam?”

“I can breathe just fine, Ms. Ford.”

Lifting that midnight gaze, she searched his expression, a slight frown creasing her brow at what she found there. “Let me tell you a secret. My family comes with a lot of baggage. Not only our history with Laura’s family, but a lot of visibility because my father and grandfather are politicians. It was all too easy to be sucked into trying to behave the way everyone expected me to behave.”

“What are you saying, Ms. Ford?”

“That I was like you once, Adam.” A soft smile touched her lips. “Surprise, surprise. I was all wrapped up in things that were keeping me from enjoying what was important in life.”

This was insight he hadn’t expected about her, and Adam wondered what had happened to make her turn that corner in her life. To transform from a woman of perfect decorum like her sister to this carefree spirit who only seemed focused on fun.

“You don’t know me, Ms. Ford. It’s presumptuous for you to think you know what I should find important in life.”

“That’s true. I don’t know you. But I know what I see. You’ve got a celebration happening in a hotel filled with sexy suites and a woman you share some serious chemistry with. Yet you shut yourself off to the possibilities the instant you realized you were attracted to me.”

To Adam’s profound annoyance, he couldn’t deny her claim, which left him to accept the hard reality. This woman had gotten under his skin no matter how much he had willed it otherwise.

3

AFTER THEIR BREAKFAST interview earlier, Laura Granger was about the last person Tori expected to see again when she appeared in the doorway of Falling Inn Bed’s records room, dressed casually in jeans and sandals, with her long blond hair bound stylishly in a braid.

“Got a minute?” she asked, sounding tentative. “Adam told me he left you in here.”

No doubt. After their tour of the main hotel, he’d brought her to this archive room and abandoned her here without a backward glance. She couldn’t blame the guy, really. She’d obviously hit close to the bone, and there was a little part of her that felt downright guilty for pushing him so hard. Adam was right—she didn’t know him. And she had no real idea why he was so determined to ignore their killer chemistry and all the unique possibilities of the Naughty Nuptials celebration.

Pushing herself up from the floor where she’d been searching through a filing cabinet that contained decades’ worth of press releases from all the inn’s various incarnations, she said, “Sure. I’m due a good stretch. What’s up?”

Laura didn’t answer, and Tori clasped her hands behind her back, stretching to ease muscles tight from crouching over that cabinet for too long.

She waited, wondering why Laura seemed nervous.

“Finding everything you need in here?” Laura asked.

Tori didn’t think that was why she came, but nodded. “Since they sprang this assignment on me only a few days ago, I haven’t had time to do my usual preliminary research on the inn’s history.”

“The history’s important?”

“Helps me add color to my articles. Just another way to interest my readers.” Cocking her hip against the table, she folded her arms across her chest. “So, are you here to interrogate me on my journalistic technique?”

Laura shook her head. “I’ve been thinking about our talk this morning and I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did your mother ever tell you what started all the trouble between our families?”

Tori stifled a grin. She’d wanted to talk about what had led their grandfather to disown his eldest daughter and start a family rift, but she hadn’t expected Laura to take the bait so quickly. “Not really. As the official nosy one in my family, I’ve tried picking her brain, but she just doesn’t like to talk about what happened.”

And she wasn’t the only one. To Tori’s knowledge her grandfather had never uttered one syllable about his eldest daughter, either, so the only thing she’d ever heard came by way of her sister, mostly gossip about how Laura’s mother had run off with a hippie to live in a commune.

“How about you?” she asked. “What has your mother said?”

Laura perused a framed newspaper article on the wall, an early twentieth-century announcement from Tori’s own paper about an upcoming slate of Christmas festivities. “Not much. She wanted to be an artist and open an artist retreat with my dad. The senator didn’t approve and gave her a choice—my dad and her art, or her family.”

“And she made her choice.”

“She did.”

“Two points for your mother for following her dreams.” Tori could understand the need to break free. It seemed to be sort of a knee-jerk thing in her family. With the kind of pressure on everyone around the senator, one either complied or rebelled. While she’d been accused of a lot of things in her life, total compliance had never been one of them.

“So is she happy with her choice?” Tori asked.

“My mom and dad are the happiest couple I know.”

“Which explains where your romantic streak comes from?”

Laura glanced over her shoulder. “I suppose. But following her dreams didn’t come without a price.”

There was subtext in that statement. Given what Tori remembered of their Westfalls years and how the Granger family had been ostracized by most of the town, she guessed that price had trickled down to Laura. “Your mom gets credit in my book. It must have taken guts to turn her back on everything.”

Tori hadn’t even managed to break away for college.

“My mom’s got guts in spades, Tori. No doubt there.”

“She must have, to give up her place in society.”

“I don’t think society was ever an issue. She’s your typical artist, indifferent to social standing and all that. I think giving up her family was an issue, though.”

“Really?” This was news. Tori always had the impression that everyone was content with the distance between the two families. At least, that was the way things seemed in the family mansion.

Laura turned back around and met Tori’s gaze evenly. “Something she said once has always stuck with me, and after talking with you this morning, I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“What’d she say?”

“That sometimes when someone dies, the people left behind are so hurt it’s easier to drift apart rather than face the pain of their loss.”

“Was she talking about our grandmother?”

Laura nodded.

“She died in that car accident when my mother was only six. I don’t think she remembers much about her.”

In fact, the only things Tori had ever heard about their grandmother had painted a picture of the perfect political wife and devoted parent whose tragic death had hit her family hard.

“What makes you think your mother had an issue with giving up her family?” Tori asked, curious.

“I was hoping you’d let me show you something.”

“Laura, I’m here to cover the bedding consultant and her Naughty Nuptials. Remember?”

“Then let’s go for broke.” Laura reached for the radio affixed to her belt. “Come in, picture taker.”

A few moments passed with the crackle of static between them before a male voice shot back, “Got a copy, bedding consultant. Go ahead.”

“I need a ten-four.”

“I’m soaking up the rays at your pool, babe.”

Tori recognized Tyler Tripp’s voice and listened to Laura sweet-talk him into leaving the pool to meet them in his room.

“Just wait,” she said to Tori. “I promise what I have to show you will be worth the trip.”

They caught up with Tyler on the third floor. He indeed had come straight from the pool, with his surfer shorts and wet hair. Laura gave him a big hug and said, “I so appreciate this. I know I promised you a whole day off.”

He flashed them a tolerant smile, his gaze raking lazily over Tori. “No rest for the wicked, babe. That’s the nature of the game. Tori knows.”

“Indeed.” She raked an equally lazy gaze over Tyler.

Now here was a man who knew how to enjoy his life. Tanned. Buff. Gorgeous long hair she could wrap herself in. He was enjoying himself out at the pool on a sunny Sunday rather than holing up inside to work. His dark gaze spelled trouble, and the silver studs adorning his eyebrow and ears made her wonder if he had piercings in places she couldn’t see without a research expedition into his surfer shorts.

His artistic mind had earned him the respect of the journalism community, and if he’d ever shown up on the doorstep of the family mansion, Rutger, her grandfather’s butler, would have slammed shut the door and called security.

He was exactly the type of man Tori normally found herself attracted to—even better, because of their common interest in journalism—only this man didn’t ignite even the teensiest spark.

No, everything she might have felt for this absolutely scrumptious man, she felt for the totally uptight and unsuitable assistant GM who wanted nothing to do with her.